As soon as Lord and Lady Avondale had quitted Castle Delaval, they
returned to Allanwater, previous to their departure for England. Buchanan,
as if to mark his still-continued resentment against Calantha, arrived at
Castle Delaval, accompanied by some of his London acquaintance almost as
soon as she had quitted it. He soon distinguished himself in that circle
by his bold libertine manners, his daring opinions and his overbearing
temper. He declared himself at utter enmity with all refinement, and
professed his distaste for what is termed good society. It was not long,
however, before Lady Margaret observed a strange and sudden alteration
in her son’s manners and deportment:—he entered into every amusement
proposed; he became more than usually condescending; and Alice Mac
Allain, it was supposed, was the sole cause of his reform.
Alice was credulous; and when she was first told that she was as fair as
the opening rose, and soft and balmy as the summer breeze, she listened
with delight to the flattering strain, and looked in the mirror to see
if all she heard, were true. She beheld there a face, lovely as youth
and glowing health could paint it, dimpling with ever-varying smiles,
while hair, like threads of gold, curled in untaught ringlets over eyes
of the lightest blue; and when she heard that she was loved, she could
not bring herself to mistrust those vows which her own bosom was but
too well prepared to receive. She had, perhaps, been won by the first
who had attempted to gain her affections; but she fell into hands where
falsehood had twined itself around the very heart’s core:—she learned
to love in no common school, and one by one every principle and every
thought was perverted; but it was not Buchanan who had to answer for
her fall! She sunk into infamy, it is true, and ruin irreparable; but
she passed through all the glowing course of passion and romance; nor
awoke, till too late, from the dream which had deluded her.
Her old father, Gerald Mac Allain, had, with the Duke’s permission,
promised her hand in marriage to a young man in the neighbourhood, much
esteemed for his good character. Linden had long considered himself as
an approved suitor. When, therefore, he was first informed of the change
which had occurred in her sentiments, and, more than all, when he was
told with every aggravation of her misconduct and duplicity, he listened
to the charge with incredulity, until the report of it was confirmed from
her own lips, by an avowal, that she thought herself no longer worthy
of accepting his generous offer,—that to be plain, she loved another,
and wished never more to see him, or to hear the reproaches which she
acknowledged were her due. “I will offer you no reproaches,” said Linden,
in the only interview he had with her; “but remember, Miss Mac Allain,
when I am far away, that if ever those who, under the name of friend,
have beguiled and misled you, should prove false and fail you,—remember,
that whilst Linden lives, there is one left who would gladly lay down
his life to defend and preserve you, and who, being forced to quit you,
never will reproach you: no, Alice—never.”
“Gerald,” said Lady Margaret, on the morning when Alice was sent in
disgrace from the castle, “I will have no private communication between
yourself and your daughter. She will be placed at present in a respectable
family; and her future conduct will decide in what manner she will be
disposed of hereafter.” The old man bent to the ground in silent grief;
for the sins of children rise up in judgment against their parents. “Oh
let me not be sent from hence in disgrace,” said the weeping girl; “drive
me not to the commission of crime.—I am yet innocent.—Pardon a first
offence.” “Talk not of innocence,” said Lady Margaret, sternly: “those
guilty looks betray you.—Your nocturnal rambles, your daily visits to
the western cliff, your altered manner,—all have been observed by me
and Buchanan”—“Oh say not, at least, that he accuses me. Whatever my
crime, I am guiltless, at least, towards him.” “Guiltless or not, you
must quit our family immediately; and to-morrow, at an early hour, see
that you are prepared.”
It was to Sir Everard’s house that Alice was conveyed. There were many
reasons which rendered this abode more convenient to Lady Margaret than
any other. The Doctor was timid and subservient, and Count Gondimar was
already a great favourite of the youngest daughter, so that the whole
family were in some measure, in Lady Margaret’s power. Her ladyship
accordingly insisted upon conveying Alice, herself, to Lady St. Clare’s
house; and having safely lodged her in her new apartment, returned to
the castle, in haste, and appeared at dinner, pleased with her morning’s
adventure; her beauty more radiant from success.
It is said that nothing gives a brighter glow to the complexion, or
makes the eyes of a beautiful woman sparkle so intensely, as triumph
over another. Is this, however, the case with respect to women alone?
Buchanan’s florid cheek was dimpled with smiles; no sleepless night had
dimmed the lustre of his eye; he talked incessantly, and with unusual
affability addressed himself to all, except to his mother; while a look
of gratified vanity was observable whenever the absence of Alice was
alluded to. He had been pleased with being the cause of ruin to any
woman; but his next dearest gratification was the having it supposed that
he was so. He was much attacked upon this occasion, and much laughing
and whispering was heard. The sufferings of love are esteemed lightly
till they are felt; and there were, on this occasion, few at the Duke’s
table, if any, who had ever really known them.