CHESLEY MANOR--MARRIAGE OF LADY ROSAMOND.
We are again introduced to Lady Rosamond, now reinstated in the home of
her childhood. A sense of gratitude is awakened within her as she fondly
gazes upon the old familiar scenes surrounding Chesley Manor. The quaint
old structure was an exact specimen of an English manor house in the
early part of the seventeenth century, having been designed by an
architect of the royal household in the reign of James the First, whence
it still continued in the possession of its illustrious descendants.
The style adapted to the above named structure was more strictly
domestic than defensive. It was built in quadrangular form, containing
only one large court, upon which opened the stately hall, chapel, and
principal apartments. Though not commanding the imposing aspect and
grandeur of Bereford Castle, Chesley Manor had an air of true gentility
in keeping with that of its owner. Lofty windows, reaching to the
ground, looked out upon the gardens, which were enclosed by a high wall.
The period in which the present edifice was constructed was that of the
best style of English architecture, contrasting the more elegant and
graceful manor house with the frowning keep and embattled walls of the
olden castle.
Surrey, with its old historic associations, was a fitting abode for the
dreamy and poetic nature of the lovely, high-born maiden. The adjoining
districts, with vale and meadow, had a pleasing effect. Long neglected
parks and straggling decayed mansions, afforded ample scope for the
fanciful flights of her ladyship's fond imagination.
Sir Thomas was indeed happy in thus having his daughter once more to
brighten the home so long desolate and lonely. He enjoyed the perpetual
sunshine of her bright presence. He loved to caress his beautiful child
and admire her sweet and bewitching charms. Lady Rosamond seemed happy
when in her father's presence. She returned his tender endearments with
childish and playful gestures; she brought sunshine in her path in which
the flowers of affection bloomed with luxuriant beauty. She was esteemed
by the train of domestics and functionaries who performed the duties of
the household. This fact somewhat conciliated the young mistress of
Chesley Manor. Her grateful nature could not view these matters without
feeling their import.
Wandering through the exquisitely arranged suites of spacious rooms
which had been renovated with a desire to meet her approbation, Lady
Rosamond could not but experience a pang of heartfelt sorrow. Parental
love overcame her weakness. Sir Thomas alone possessed the key that
gained access to her feelings. He alone could turn aside the channel of
her resisting thoughts and mark the course for the tide of conflicting
torrents as they surge madly on.
Maude Bereford is once more cheered in the daily companionship of Lady
Rosamond. In their girlish and pretty ways those lovely girls form a
pleasing picture to grace the interior and surroundings of Chesley
Manor. Maude has a gentle and lovable disposition which wins the
admiration of both sexes. Though not a beauty, she is truly
beautiful--beautiful in heart, beautiful in soul. None see this mental
beauty more clearly than the young mistress of the manor. The gentle
nature and simple-minded heart of Maude Bereford sees in her cousin the
sweetness and worth which are so fondly adored by her brother Gerald.
That Lady Rosamond sees in her future husband all that can make the
heart truly happy is a source of constant delight to her loving cousin.
Maude has not the keen perception of the nature of the human heart.
Lady Bereford was sanguine over the result of her diplomatic tact. There
lay no obstruction in the path which she had marked out for Gerald
Bereford. No rivals had given cause for offence. Lady Rosamond had
readily encouraged the advances made by her suitor. It was now a settled
conclusion. The fact had been communicated throughout the country. Sir
Thomas had already received hearty congratulations on the brilliant
prospects of his only daughter. The event was eagerly anticipated in the
fashionable circles of high life. Many high-born maidens felt a tinge of
jealousy as they listened to the brilliant preparations awaiting the
marriage of the future Lord Bereford. His courtly manners, pleasing
graces, and handsome appearance, were the comment of many. His proud
privileges as peer of the realm, his princely castle and great wealth,
furnished themes for eulogy.
While the great event was pending, and general curiosity was awakened in
the course of proceedings, the Lady Rosamond alone remained passive. She
calmly listened to the different reports of those to whom was entrusted
the management of affairs with an ease that was perplexing in its
simplicity. A genial smile repaid any effort to please. She gave advice
with a gentle deference that surprised her most intimate friends and
companions. With calmness and subdued feelings did her ladyship examine
the costly satins and laces scattered in lavish profusion, and being in
readiness to assume the most courtly and elegant costumes at the
sanction of the fair enchantress. Maude Bereford was radiant with joy,
the delightful prospect was at hand. Bereford Castle was to receive her
dearest Rosamond. A splendid house was to be in readiness in the suburbs
of London, where she would revel in the delights of fashionable society
and the daily companionship of Lady Rosamond.
Gerald Bereford looked forward to the consummation of his hopes with
fond solicitude. Having received from Lady Rosamond a quiet appreciation
of his tenderness and deep love, he dared not to question closely the
motives which actuated her. Sometimes he had momentary doubts concerning
the entire reciprocation of her ladyship's trust and confidence, which
caused considerable anxiety, but the sweet, pensive smile which asserted
itself was sufficient to drive out a host of smothered grievances.
When Lady Rosamond promised to become the wife of Gerald Bereford she
did so from a true sense of duty and affection towards her only parent.
For him she would make the great sacrifice. Did the occasion demand, she
would sacrifice her life on his behalf. In reality she had made such a
test of her faith when she made her betrothal vow, bartering love,
happiness, and life. Yes; life, with its true enjoyments, by this
sacrifice, would become a mocking, bitter trial, to which even death
were gladly welcome. Yet the noble girl shrank not from the task which
the stern voice of duty had assigned. She would bear it without a
murmur. None save Mary Douglas should know the depths of feeling of
which her nature was capable. Gerald Bereford would acknowledge the
daily attention of a kind and dutiful wife. No human being should know a
secret that was to her more than life--a soul within--a burning,
smouldering fire, around which clings the shuddering form of outraged
Hope. Lady Rosamond has kept her secret, therefore the writer will keep
it in respect to her ladyship's inward sanctity. The reader may have
gained it; if not, dear reader, you will in the end be rewarded for your
patience by a disclosure. In the meantime let us follow her ladyship
through all the perplexing moments of her unhappy existence, admiring
the true courage and grateful sentiments which sustain her.
The day appointed for the eventful ceremony had arrived. Cards of
invitation having been issued to the most distinguished nobility
throughout the kingdom, a vast assemblage of expectant guests filled the
seats and aisles of the ancient gothic cathedral in which the marriage
was about to be solemnized. Happy smiles beamed upon all faces as they
glanced around the handsome edifice so beautifully decorated for the
occasion. Flowers and garlands were lavishly strewn around, scattered
upon the floor, upon the steps, upon the way-side; literally all space
was crowned with flowers. Gerald Bereford was truly a prepossessing
bridegroom, worthy of loving and being loved in return. His truthful
countenance was beaming with manly love. He was now ready to pronounce
those vows which in his heart met a ready response. Lady Rosamond and
her train of lovely bridesmaids have arrived. Hundreds of spectators are
anxious to catch a passing glimpse of the beautiful bride as she is led
to the altar by Sir Thomas Seymour, who gazes with loving tenderness
upon the object so soon to be taken from his heart and home.
The feverish flush of excitement upon the transparent complexion of the
bride lent additional aid to her matchless charms. Lady Rosamond is
indeed a creature of surpassing loveliness. The soft texture of white
satin that floats in bewitching folds of drapery around the faultless
form is heightened in effect by an intermixture of costly lace and
flashing jewels. The bridal veil, with its coronet of diamonds and
orange blossoms, conceals the features so passive in the efforts to
conceal the emotions which are struggling within the bosom of the fair
one as she slowly utters those vows which, in accordance with her former
resolve, she will earnestly strive to perform. Conscience awakens in her
a deep shudder by setting forth painful convictions of promises given
where her heart beats no response. But lady Rosamond felt relief from
the thought of her efforts to do what she could to atone for this
knowledge. Her husband would be happy in her presence if not her love.
Those were the thoughts that occupied the lovely bride as she accepted
the congratulations of the crowd who gathered around her. A pleasing
smile greeted every one of the guests; even Lady Bereford was satisfied
with the grateful acknowledgement. The bridegroom was a happy man. He
adored his lovely bride. He looked upon her as the perfect embodiment of
love and truth. Such were the sentiments that stimulated Gerald Bereford
as his wife was received into society with all the eclat attendant upon
rank, wealth and beauty. Her appearance on several occasions was hailed
with universal delight. Her unassuming manner, childlike disposition and
elegant grace made friends at every footstep. Jealousy found no favor in
the wake of Lady Rosamond. Her presence was sufficient warning to the
green-eyed monster to make hasty retreat.
Lord Bereford took a fond interest in his newly found daughter. He had
always loved Lady Rosamond as his own child. She reminded him of the
lovely sister who shared in his youthful joys. Maria Bereford was the
favorite sister of his early days; her daughter was a tender link in the
chain of memory. Lady Rosamond fully returned the affection borne her by
Lord Bereford. She found a strange relief when sitting by his side
listening to the stories which brought before her vivid conceptions of
her childhood and its happy past never to return--the days when her
heart was free to roam in its wayward and fanciful nights full of ardour
and the bouyant aspirations of unfettered youth.
Gerald Bereford proved indeed a tender and loving husband. His heart was
always ready to upbraid him if he were not ready to meet the slightest
wish of his young wife. Every kindness that could be bestowed on Lady
Rosamond daily suggested itself to the mind of her thoughtful husband.
He was only happy in her presence--she was the sunshine of his heart, of
his life, of his soul. Without Lady Rosamond this world was a blank--a
region "where light never enters, hope never comes." Nor was the fact
unknown to the dutiful and amiable wife. It grieved her deeply to
witness such an exhibition of true love and tenderness without its
receiving equal return. With heroic bravery she endeavored to reward her
husband by little acts of thoughtful kindness greeting his return from
the turmoil of political struggles. Pleasing surprises often met his eye
when least expected. Many pretty trinkets made expressly for his use, by
the fair hands of Lady Rosamond, were placed in careless profusion
around his private apartments. These trifling incidents were an
hundredfold more worth to Gerald Bereford than the most well-timed and
flattering acknowledgments of the many who daily courted his friendship.
Thus did her ladyship strive to make amends to her husband without
having recourse to deceit. She returned his caresses, not with a fervent
love, but with a feeling that such generous love exacted her sympathy.
In the tenderness of her heart some recompense must be made. Would she
ever learn to love her husband as he indeed deserved to be loved? When
would the hour arrive when she could say: "Gerald, I love you with my
entire heart and soul; I live for you alone; none other can possess the
great love I bear for you, my husband." Those questions were frequently
present in the mind of the devoted wife of Gerald Bereford. But he knew
it not. He was in blissful ignorance of the fire within as he fondly
dreamed of the pleasing graces of his lovely wife. He had no reason to
be otherwise than happy.
Lady Rosamond Bereford was above suspicion. She had no desire to possess
popularity outside her own household. The flattery of the opposite sex
was lost upon her. The false smile of base and unprincipled men found no
favor in the sight of her ladyship. She discountenanced many practices
sanctioned by the usages of good society. Virtue was the true criterion
upon which was based her ladyship's judgment.
It is almost needless to add that congratulations reached Lady Rosamond
from the family at Government House in Fredericton. It was not a matter
of surprise to Lady Douglas. She had too much confidence in the
character of her relative to doubt her resolution. Mary Douglas fondly
clung to the hope that her companion would, by some unforeseen power,
avert the threatening blow. She betrayed no astonishment. Though daily
expecting the sickening news of the marriage, the private secretary of
Sir Howard almost staggered under the sudden weight of anxiety which
possessed him when Captain Douglas made the startling disclosure, with
the accompanying remark: "Jove! I always said that Gerald Bereford was a
lucky fellow."
The thoughtful gaze of Mr. Howe as he stood in mute and silent
astonishment, raised a laugh from his companion, with the addition of a
second remark, implying that her ladyship must have made sad havoc upon
the heart of a certain individual, judging from the effect produced by
the announcement of her marriage.
True indeed! Lady Rosamond had made havoc upon the heart and affection
of a _certain individual_, as Captain Douglas roughly remarked, but not
the one to whom he made direct allusion.
The heart that suffered most will be the last to acknowledge. "Heaven
pity poor Trevelyan," murmured Mr. Howe.