During the time occupied by the foregoing events, Francis continued a
gloomy inmate of his uncle's house. The duke and his brother George were
too indolent and inactive in their minds to pierce the cloud that
mortification and deadened affections had drawn around the real
character of their nephew; and although he was tolerated as the heir, he
was but little loved as a man.
In losing his brother, Francis lost the only human being with whom he
possessed any sympathies in common; and he daily drew more and more into
himself, in gloomy meditation on his forlorn situation, in the midst of
wealth and expected honors. The attentions he received were paid to his
rank, and Francis had penetration enough to perceive it. His visits to
his parents were visits of ceremony, and in time all parties came to
look to their termination with pleasure, as to the discontinuance of
heartless and forced civilities.
Affection, even in the young man, could not endure, repulsed as his
feelings were, for ever; and in the course of three years, if his
attachments were not alienated from his parents, his ardor had become
much abated.
It is a dreadful truth, that the bonds of natural affection can be
broken by injustice and contumely; and it is yet more to be deplored,
that when from such causes we loosen the ties habit and education have
drawn around us, a reaction in our feelings commences; we seldom cease
to love, but we begin to hate. Against such awful consequences it is one
of the most solemn duties of the parent to provide in season; and what
surer safeguard is there, than to inculcate those feelings which teach
the mind to love God, and in so doing induce love to the whole human
family?
Sir Frederick and Lady Margaret attended the church regularly, repeated
the responses with much decency, toasted the church next to the king,
even appeared at the altars of their God, and continued sinners. From
such sowings, no good fruit could be expected to flourish: yet Francis
was not without his hours of devotion; but his religion was, like
himself, reserved, superstitious, ascetic, and gloomy. He never entered
into social worship: if he prayed it was with an ill-concealed wish to
end this life of care. If he returned thanks, it was with a bitterness
that mocked the throne before which he was prostrate. Such pictures are
revolting; but their originals have and do exist; for what enormity is
there of which human frailty, unchecked by divine assistance, may not be
guilty?
Francis received an invitation to visit a brother of his mother's at his
seat in the country, about the time of the expected return of George
from America; and in compliance with the wishes of his uncles he
accepted it. The house was thronged with visitors, and many of them were
ladies. To these, the arrival of the unmarried heir of the house of
Derwent was a subject of no little interest. His character had, however,
preceded him, and a few days of his awkward and, as they conceived,
sullen deportment, drove them back to their former beaux, with the
exception of one; and she was not only amongst the fairest of the
throng, but decidedly of the highest pretensions on the score of birth
and fortune.
Marian Lumley was the only surviving child of the last Duke of
Annerdale, with whom had expired the higher honors of his house. But the
Earldom of Pendennyss, with numerous ancient baronies, were titles in
fee; and together with his princely estates had descended to his
daughter as heir-general of the family. A peeress in her own right, with
an income far exceeding her utmost means of expenditure, the lovely
Countess of Pendennyss was a prize aimed at by all the young nobles of
the empire.
Educated in the midst of flatterers and dependants she had become
haughty, vain, and supercilious; still she was lovely, and no one knew
better how to practise the most winning arts of her sex, when whim or
interest prompted her to the trial.
Her host was her guardian and relative; and through his agency she had
rejected, at the age of twenty, numerous suitors for her hand. Her eyes
were fixed on the ducal coronet; and unfortunately for Francis Denbigh,
he was, at the time, the only man of the proper age who could elevate
her to that enviable distinction in the kingdom; and an indirect measure
of her own had been the means of his invitation to the country.
Like the rest of her young companions, Marian was greatly disappointed
on the view of her intended captive, and for a day or two she abandoned
him to his melancholy and himself. But ambition was her idol; and to its
powerful rival, love, she was yet a stranger. After a few struggles with
her inclinations the consideration that their united fortunes and family
alliances would make one of the wealthiest and most powerful houses in
the kingdom, prevailed. Such early sacrifices of the inclinations in a
woman of her beauty, youth and accomplishments, may excite surprise; but
where the mind is left uncultivated by the hand of care, the soul
untouched by the love of goodness, the human heart seldom fails to set
up an idol of its own to worship. In the Countess of Pendennyss this
idol was pride.
The remainder of the ladies, from ceasing to wonder at the manners of
Francis, had made them the subject of their mirth; and nettled at his
apparent indifference to their society, which they erroneously
attributed to his sense of his importance, they overstepped the bounds
of good-breeding in manifesting their displeasure.
"Mr. Denbigh," cried one of the most thoughtless and pretty of the gay
tribe to him one day, as Francis sat in a corner abstracted from the
scene around him, "when do you mean to favor the world with your
brilliant ideas in the shape of a book?"
"Oh! no doubt soon," said a second; "and I expect they will be homilies,
or another volume to the Whole Duty of Man."
"Rather," cried a third, with bitter irony, "another canto to the Rape
of the Lock, his ideas are so vivid and full of imagery."
"Or, what do you think," said a fourth, speaking in a voice of harmony,
and tones of the most soothing tenderness, "of pity and compassion, for
the follies of those inferior minds, who cannot enjoy the reflections of
a good sense and modesty peculiarly his own?"
This might also be irony; and Francis thought it so; but the tones were
so soft and conciliating, that with a face pale with his emotions, he
ventured to look up and met the eye of Marian, fixed on him in an
expression that changed his death-like hue into the color of vermillion.
He thought of this speech; he reasoned on it; he dreamt on it. But for
the looks which accompanied it, like the rest of the party, he would
have thought it the cruellest cut of them all. But that look, those
eyes, that voice, what a commentary on her language did they not afford!
Francis was not long in suspense; the next morning an excursion was
proposed, which included all but himself in its arrangements. He was
either too reserved or too proud to offer services which were not
required.
Several gentlemen had contended for the honor of driving the countess in
a beautiful phaeton of her own. They grew earnest in their claims: one
had been promised by its mistress with an opportunity of trying the ease
of the carriage; another was delighted with the excellent training of
her horses; in short, all had some particular claim to the distinction,
which was urged with a warmth and pertinacity proportionate to the value
of the prize to be obtained. Marian heard the several claimants with an
ease and indifference natural to her situation, and ended the dispute by
saying--
"Gentlemen, as I have made so many promises from the dread of giving
offence, I must throw myself on the mercy of Mr. Denbigh, who alone,
with the best claims, does not urge them; to you then," continued she,
approaching him with the whip which was to be given the victor, "I
adjudge the prize, if you will condescend to accept it."
This was uttered with one of her most attractive smiles, and Francis
received the whip with an emotion that he with difficulty could control.
The gentlemen were glad to have the contest decided by adjudging the
prize to one so little dangerous, and the ladies sneered at her choice
as they left the house.
There was something so soothing in the manners of Lady Pendennyss, she
listened to the little he said with such a respectful attention, was so
anxious to have him give his opinions, that the unction of flattery,
thus sweetly applied, and for the first time, could not fail of its
wonted effects.
The communications thus commenced were continued. It was so easy to be
attentive, by being simply polite to one unused to notice of any kind,
that Marian found the fate of the young man in her hands almost as soon
as she attempted to control it.
A new existence opened upon Francis, as day after day she insensibly led
him to a display of powers he was unconscious until now of possessing
himself. His self-respect began to increase, his limited pleasures to
multiply, and he could now look around him with a sense of participation
in the delights of life, as he perceived himself of consequence to this
much admired woman.
Trifling incidents, managed on her part with consummate art, had led him
to the daring inference that he was not entirely indifferent to her; and
Francis returned the incipient affection of his mistress with a feeling
but little removed from adoration. Week flew by after week, and still he
lingered at the residence of his kinsman, unable to tear himself from
the society of one so worshipped, and yet afraid to take a step by
making a distinct declaration which might involve him in disgrace or
ridicule.
The condescension of the countess increased, and she had indirectly
given him the most flattering assurances of his success, when George,
just arrived from America, having first paid his greetings to his
reconciled parents, and the happy couple of his generosity, flew to the
arms of his brother in Suffolk.
Francis was overjoyed to see George, and George delighted in the visible
improvement of his brother. Still Francis was far, very far behind his
junior in graces of mind and body; indeed, few men in England were more
adapted by nature and education for female society than was Colonel
Denbigh at the period of which we write.
Marian witnessed all his attractions, and deeply felt their influence;
for the first time she felt the emotions of the gentle passion; and
after having sported in the gay world, and trifled with the feelings of
others for years, the countess in her turn became an unwilling victim to
its power. George met her flame with a corresponding ardor, and the
struggle between ambition and love became severe; the brothers
unconsciously were rivals.
Had George for a moment suspected the situation of the feelings of
Francis, his very superiority in the contest would have induced him to
retreat from the unnatural rivalry. Had the elder dreamt of the views of
his junior, he would have abandoned his dearest hopes in utter despair.
Francis had so long been accustomed to consider George as his superior
in everything, that a competition with him would have appeared
desperate. Marian contrived to keep both in hopes, undecided herself
which to choose, and perhaps ready to yield to the first applicant. A
sudden event, however, removed all doubts, and decided the fate of the
three.
The Duke of Derwent and his bachelor brother became so dissatisfied with
the character of their future heir, that they as coolly set about
providing themselves with wives as they had performed any other ordinary
transaction of life, They married cousins, and on the same day the
choice of the ladies was assigned between them by lots; and if his grace
got the prettier, his brother certainly got the richest; under the
circumstances a very tolerable distribution of fortune's favors.
These double marriages dissolved the charm of Francis, and Lady
Pendennyss determined to consult her wishes; a little pointed
encouragement brought out the declaration of George, and he was
accepted.
Francis, who had never communicated his feelings to any one but the
lady, and that only indirectly, was crushed by the blow. He continued in
public until the day of their union; was present, composed and silent;
but it was the silence of a mountain whose volcanic contents had not
reached the surface. The same day he disappeared, and every inquiry
after him proved fruitless; search was baffled, and for seven years it
was not known what had become of the general's eldest son.
George on marrying resigned his commission, at the earnest entreaties of
his wife, and retired to one of her seats, to the enjoyment of ease and
domestic love. The countess was enthusiastically attached to him; and as
motives for the indulgence of coquetry were wanting, her character
became gradually improved by the contemplation of the excellent
qualities of her generous husband.
A lurking suspicion of the cause of Francis's sudden disappearance
rendered her uneasy at times; but Marian was too much beloved, too
happy, in the enjoyment of too many honors, and of too great wealth, to
be open to the convictions of conscience. It is in our hours of pain and
privation that we begin to feel its sting: if we are prosperous, we
fancy we reap the fruits of our own merit; but if we are unfortunate,
the voice of truth seldom fails to remind us that we are deserving of
our fate:--a blessed provision of Providence that often makes the
saddest hours of our earthly career the morn of a day that is to endure
for ever.
General Denbigh and Lady Margaret both died within five years of the
marriage of their favorite child, although both lived to see their
descendant, in the person of the infant Lord Lumley.
The duke and his brother George were each blessed with offspring, and in
these several descendants of the different branches of the family of
Denbigh may be seen the different personages of our history. On the
birth of her youngest child, the Lady Marian, the Countess of Pendennyss
sustained a shock in her health from which she never wholly recovered:
she became nervous, and lost most of her energy both of mind and body.
Her husband was her solace; his tenderness remaining unextinguished,
while his attentions increased.
As the fortune of Ives and Isabel put the necessity of a living out of
the question, and no cure offering for the acceptance of the first, he
was happy to avail himself of an offer to become domestic chaplain to
his now intimate friend, Mr. Denbigh. For the first six years they were
inmates of Pendennyss Castle. The rector of the parish was infirm, and
averse to a regular assistant; but the unobtrusive services of Mr. Ives
were not less welcome to the pastor than to his parishioners.
Employed in the duties which of right fell to the incumbent, and
intrusted with the spiritual guardianship of the dependants of the
castle, our young clergyman had ample occupation for all his time, if
not a sufficient theatre for his usefulness. Isabel and himself remained
the year round in Wales, and the first dawnings of education received by
Lord Lumley were those he acquired conjointly with Francis from the care
of the latter's father. They formed, with the interval of the time spent
by Mr. Denbigh and Lady Pendennyss in town in winter, but one family. To
the gentleman, the attachment of the grateful Ives was as strong as it
was lasting. Mrs. Ives never ceased to consider him as a self-devoted
victim to her happiness; and although a far more brilliant lot had
awaited him by the change, yet her own husband could not think it a more
happy one.
The birth of Lady Marian had already, in its consequences, begun, to
throw a gloom round the domestic comforts of Denbigh, when he was to
sustain another misfortune in a separation from his friends.
Mr., now Dr. Ives, had early announced his firm intention, whenever an
opportunity was afforded him, to enter into the fullest functions of his
ministry, as a matter of duty. Such an opportunity now offered at B----,
and the doctor became its rector about the period Sir Edward became
possessor of his paternal estate.
Denbigh tried every inducement within his power to keep the doctor in
his own society. If as many thousands as his living would give him
hundreds could effect it, they would have been at his service; but
Denbigh understood the character of the divine too well to offer such an
inducement: he however urged the claims of friendship to the utmost, but
without success. The doctor acknowledged the hold both himself and
family had gained upon his affections, but he added--
"Consider, my dear Mr. Denbigh, what we would have thought of one of the
earlier followers of our Saviour, who from motives of convenience or
worldly-mindedness could have deserted his sacred calling. Although the
changes in the times may have rendered the modes of conducting them
different, necessarily the duties remain the same. The minister of our
holy religion who has once submitted to the call of his divine Master,
must allow nothing but ungovernable necessity to turn him from the path
he has entered on; and should he so far forget himself, I greatly fear
he would plead, when too late to remedy the evil, his worldly duties,
his cares, or even his misfortunes, in vain. Solemn and arduous are his
obligations to labor, but when faithfully he has discharged these
duties, oh! how glorious must be his reward."
Before such opinions every barrier must fall, and the doctor entered
into the cure of his parish without further opposition, though not
without unceasing regret on the part of his friend. Their intercourse
was, however, maintained by letter, and they also frequently met at
Lumley Castle, a seat of the countess's, within two days' ride of the
doctor's parish, until her increasing indisposition rendered journeying
impossible; then, indeed, the doctor extended his rides into Wales, but
with longer intervals between his visits, though with the happiest
effects to the objects of his journey.
Mr. Denbigh, worn down with watching and blasted hopes, under the
direction of the spiritual watchfulness of the rector of B----, became
an humble, sincere, and pious Christian.