The whole party, at Castle Delaval, now proceeded to London for the
winter, where Lord and Lady Avondale were already established in the
Duke’s mansion in .... Square.
A slight cold and fever, added to the anxiety and grief Lady Avondale
had felt for her unhappy friend, had confined her entirely to her own
apartment; and since her arrival in town, Count Gondimar was almost the
only person who had been hitherto admitted to her presence.
He and Viviani now lodged in the same house; but the latter still
concealed himself and never was admitted to Lady Margaret’s presence
except secretly and with caution. He often enquired after Calantha; and
one evening the following conversation took place respecting her between
himself and the Count:
“You remember her,” said Gondimar, “a wild and wayward girl. Is she
less, do you suppose, an object of attraction now in the more endearing
character of mother and of wife—so gentle, so young she seems, so pure,
and yet so passionately attached to her husband and infant boy, that I
think even you Viviani would feel convinced of her integrity. She seems
indeed one born alone to love, and to be loved, if love itself might exist
in a creature whom purity, and every modest feeling seem continually to
surround.”
Viviani smiled in scorn. “Gondimar, this Calantha, this fair and spotless
flower is a woman, and, as such, she must be frail. Besides, I know
that she is so in a thousand instances, though as yet too innocent to
see her danger, or to mistrust our sex. You have often described to me
her excessive fondness for music. What think you of it? She does not
hear it as the Miss Seymours hear it, you tell me. She does not admire
it, as one of the lovers of harmony might. Oh no; she feels it in her
very soul—it awakens every sensibility—it plays upon the chords of her
overheated imagination—it fills her eyes with tears, and strengthens
and excites the passions, which it appears to soothe and to compose.
There is nothing which the power of music cannot effect, when it is thus
heard. Your Calantha feels it to a dangerous excess. Let me see her,
and I will sing to her till the chaste veil of every modest feeling is
thrown aside, and thoughts of fire dart into her bosom, and loosen every
principle therein. Oh I would trust every thing to the power of melody.
Calantha is fond of dancing too, I hear; and dancing is the order of the
night. This is well; and once, though she saw me not amidst the crowd,
I marked her, as she lightly bounded the gayest in the circle, from the
mere excess of the animal spirits of youth. Now Miss Seymour dances; but
it is with modest dignity: her sister Frances dances also, and it is with
much skill and grace, her sidelong glance searching for admiration as
she passes by; but Calantha sees not, thinks not, when she dances:—her
heart beats with joyous pleasure—her countenance irradiates—and almost
wild with delight, she forgets every thing but the moment she enjoys. Let
Viviani but for one night be her partner, and you shall see how pure is
this Calantha. She boasts too of the most unclouded happiness, you tell
me, and of the most perfect state of security and bliss; they who soar
above others, on the wings of romance, will fall. Oh surely they will
fall. Let her but continue in her present illusion a few short years—let
her but take the common chances of the life she will be called upon to
lead; and you, or I, or any man, may possess her affections, nor boast
greatly of the conquest. In one word, she is now in London. Give but
Viviani one opportunity of beholding her: it is all I ask.”
Gondimar listened to his young friend with regret. “There are women
enough, Viviani,” he said mournfully; “spare this one. I have an interest
in her safety.”—“I shall not seek her,” replied Viviani proudly: “please
your own fancy: I care not for these triflers—not I.”