Alfred had no opportunity for private conversation with his brother
before he went to his appointment at Lady Palliser's; nor indeed did he
now desire it till he should have come to some explanation with
Caroline.
In strange perplexity of spirits, trying in vain to persuade himself
that he had every thing to hope and nothing to fear, he repaired to
Jessamine Bower.
On entering the drawing-room he perceived Caroline, seated and alone.
When he was announced, she did not move. He approached; her eyes still
remained fixed on the ground, while the paleness of her complexion was
even more remarkable than usual, and a very slight but universal tremor
pervaded her whole frame. He stood before her, and as he did so,
trembled himself with undefined apprehension.
"Good heavens, Caroline!" he exclaimed, sinking on one knee, and
attempting to take her hand. She withdrew it hastily, and her cheeks
crimsoned while she cast one involuntary glance in the direction of the
conservatory. Alfred rose, folded his arms, and stood for a moment
silent, then said--"If I have been presumptuous, Lady Caroline, I have
much to plead in my excuse, and the interview of yesterday in
particular; I was certainly led to hope for a more favourable
reception, however little I may be deserving of it."
"I was--to blame," said Caroline, in a voice scarcely articulate, and
still without looking up.
"Is it possible! Do I interpret you right? Were those hopes, to me so
full of joy, altogether fallacious? But no, Caroline, I will not, I
cannot believe it! Lady Palliser objects, and you deem it your duty to
submit: even this thought would be happiness, compared with that of your
indifference! Or--or--"
"My caprice!" said Caroline, looking up almost wildly for a moment,
"Yes, think it my caprice!"
"I cannot believe it," he replied.
There was a considerable pause, during which he anxiously observed
Caroline, and perceived that silent tears were stealing down her
cheeks.
"Those tears are not caused by caprice," he said in a tone of
tenderness; "in compassion say," he added with sudden and vehement
earnestness, "that you are acting in obedience to Lady Palliser's
commands, and I too will submit." While speaking again he sank on his
knee before her, and tried to take both her hands. The terror however
with which she resisted, hastily rising as she did so--the more
effectually to avoid him--so much for the moment resembled aversion,
that he rose as hastily, and looking his amazement, said with a
hysterical intonation of voice, "If it is indeed so, I have a thousand
apologies to offer to Lady Caroline Montague for my impertinent
intrusiveness. To retire, however, and offend no more, will perhaps be
better than entering further into the subject." He was about to depart,
when pausing he said, "I will ask one question--Am I rejected? Do you
finally withdraw the hopes you yesterday bestowed?"
"I do," she replied.
He stood for a few moments to master his emotion, then pronouncing a
haughty good morning, hastily quitted the room and the house. In a few
moments after, he was pacing, without plan or intention, one of the many
shady and usually quite solitary walks, which branch off in every
direction from the general scene of gaiety, and near to which both
villas stood.
His pride, as well as every tenderer and worthier feeling, was wounded
beyond description. He now appeared, even to himself, in the light of
one who had indelicately, unfeelingly, and presumptuously sought a match
of worldly advantage, to which he had no pretension; and though he
could acquit himself of interested views in so doing, he felt that it
would be a romance and absurdity to expect so candid an interpretation
from any one else. The one continued dream, which had made up his whole
existence for many weeks past, was now dissipated in an instant. Nay, he
sought in vain among his own meditations for the apologies, even to
himself, which had before seemed sufficient. Caroline, so silent, so
fearful at the commencement of their acquaintance, had seemed to derive
a new existence from his growing attentions, while Lady Palliser,
instead of checking those attentions, and showing alarm at the visible
pleasure with which her daughter received them, had herself given him
what he then considered the most unequivocal encouragement, being always
the first to make intercourse easy to both, by desiring the always
timid Caroline to dance with him, walk with him, and sing with him. And
then the silent glow of secret pleasure with which the welcome command
was obeyed, confirmed sometimes perhaps by a momentary expression caught
when the eyes accidentally met, or at other times merely by an alacrity
of movement, or cheerfulness of tone in obeying or replying, which,
notwithstanding, betrayed volumes in a character too fearful and gentle
to let itself be regularly read aloud, yet too artless, too unpractised,
to know how utterly to seal its pages.
While such things had been, the prejudices of society had faded from his
mind; he had believed it not impossible that where an only child already
possessed immense estates, a parent might prefer the happiness of that
child to the unnecessary addition of other estates. Now all the
artificial estimates of life and manners, taught by early education,
returned in their fullest force, and he thought himself a madman ever to
have entertained such an opinion.
He now believed that every one who knew he had had the presumption to
pay his addresses to Lady Caroline Montague, would reprobate him and
say, that because he was a younger brother, and of course a beggar, he
wanted to make his fortune by marrying an heiress. How bitterly did he
now regret that he had ever had the rash folly to confess his passion.
Yet, so thoroughly disinterested had that passion been, that he had even
for the time lost sight of the possibility of being suspected by others
of motives of which he was himself incapable: all that through the
happy intoxication of his feelings had presented itself respecting
fortune, was a vaguely delightful remembrance that his poverty could
never entail any privations on Caroline. What was now to be done? The
wretched state of his feelings would have induced him to quit Cheltenham
immediately, but wounded pride prompted him to remain; he wished to let
Lady Caroline Montague see that her caprices should not govern his
conduct; that he could behave with composure in her society--with polite
self-possession even towards herself. But in this first moment of just
resentment, he knew not the difficulty of the task he courted. He
resolved to conceal the whole affair from Willoughby, and if his mother
and sisters persisted in making allusion to the subject of his
admiration of Lady Caroline Montague, to assure them gravely that he
never meant, in his circumstances, to subject himself to the suspicion
of seeking an heiress because she was an heiress.
Having come to so dignified a resolve, he flattered himself for the
moment that he was almost composed. Scarcely however had he arrived at
this conclusion, than fond memory, more at leisure than it had been
during the late angry burst of disappointed passion, began retracing
scenes, recalling looks, repeating words, recounting circumstances, till
his mind again became a troubled sea, from amidst the breakers of which
he beheld, but now with all the aggravated feelings of one sent adrift
in a bark without rudder or oar, tantalizing views, but too distant to
admit a hope of reaching a smiling happy shore--a haven of bliss to
fancy's eye, which appeared the more perfect now that it was
unattainable.
At one time he stopped short, and stood for about ten minutes like an
absolute statue, quite unconscious of any outward object. He was asking
himself, if it were not still possible that Caroline was acting under
the influence of Lady Palliser and if there might not come a time when
that influence would cease?