To suffer the pangs of unrequited love was not, in the present instance,
the destiny of Calantha. That dark eye, the lustre of whose gaze she
durst not meet, was, nevertheless, at all times fixed upon her; and the
quick mantling blush and beaming smile, which lighted the countenance
of Lord Avondale, whenever her name was pronounced before him, soon
betrayed, to all but himself and Calantha, how much and how entirely his
affections were engaged. He was of a nature not easily to be flattered
into admiration of others—not readily attracted, or lightly won; but,
once having fixed his affections, he was firm, confiding and incapable
of change, through any change of fortune. He was, besides, of that
affectionate and independent character, that as neither bribe nor power
could have moved him to one act contrary to his principles of integrity,
so neither danger, fatigue, nor any personal consideration could have
deterred him from that which he considered as the business and duty of
his life. He possessed a happy and cheerful disposition,—a frank and
winning manner,—and that hilarity of heart and countenance which rendered
him the charm and sunshine of every society.
When Lord Avondale, however, addressed Calantha, she answered him in
a cold or sullen manner, and, if he endeavoured to approach her, she
fled unconscious of the feeling which occasioned her embarrassment. Her
cousins, Sophia and Frances, secure of applause, and conscious of their
own power of pleasing, had entered the world neither absurdly timid,
nor vainly presuming:—they knew the place they were called upon to fill
in society; and they sought not to outstep the bounds which good sense
had prescribed. Calantha, on the other hand, scarce could overcome her
terror and confusion when addressed by those with whom she was little
acquainted. But how far less dangerous was this reserve than the easy
confidence which a few short years afterwards produced, and how little
did the haughty Lady Margaret imagine, as she chid her niece for this
excess of timidity, that the day would, perhaps, soon arrive when careless
of the presence of hundreds, Calantha might strive to attract their
attention, by the very arts which she now despised, or pass thoughtlessly
along, hardened and entirely insensible to their censure or their praise!
To a lover’s eyes such timidity was not unpleasing; and Lord Avondale
liked not the girl he admired the less, for that crimson blush—that timid
look, which scarcely dared encounter his ardent gaze. To him it seemed
to disclose a heart new to the world—unspoiled and guileless. Calantha’s
mind, he thought, might now receive the impression which should be
given it; and while yet free, yet untainted, would it not be happiness
to secure her as his own—to mould her according to his fancy—to be her
guide and protector through life!
Such were his feelings, as he watched her shunning even the eyes of
him, whom alone she wished to please:—such were his thoughts, when,
flying from the amusements and gaiety natural to her age, she listened
with attention, while he read to her, or conquered her fears to enter
into conversation with him. He seemed to imagine her to be possessed of
every quality which he most admired; and the delusive charm of believing
that he was not indifferent to her heart, threw a beauty and grace over
all her actions, which blinded him to every error. Thus then they both
acknowledged, and surrendered themselves to the power of love. Calantha
for the first time yielded up her heart entirely to its enchantment;
and Lord Avondale for the last.
It is said there is no happiness, and no love to be compared to that
which is felt for the first time. Most persons erroneously think so;
but love like other arts requires experience, and terror and ignorance,
on its first approach, prevent our feeling it as strongly as at a later
period. Passion mingles not with a sensation so pure, so refined as that
which Calantha then conceived, and the excess of a lover’s attachment
terrified and overpowered the feelings of a child.
Storms of fury kindled in the eye of Lady Margaret when first she observed
this mutual regard. Words could not express her indignation:—to deeds
she had recourse. Absence was the only remedy to apply; and an hour,
a moment’s delay, by opening Calantha’s mind to a consciousness of her
lover’s sentiments and wishes, might render even this ineffectual. She
saw that the flame had been kindled in a heart too susceptible, and where
opposition would encrease its force;—she upbraided her brother for his
blindness, and reproached herself for her folly. There was but one way
left, which was to communicate the Duke’s surmises and intentions to
the Admiral in terms so positive, that he could not mistake them, and
instantly to send for Buchanan. In pursuance of this purpose, she wrote
to inform him of every thing which had taken place, and to request him
without loss of time to meet her at Castle Delaval. Mrs. Seymour alone
folded Calantha to her bosom without one reproach, and, consigning her
with trembling anxiety to a father’s care, reminded him continually,
that she was his only remaining child, and that force, in a circumstance
of such moment, would be cruelty.