|The gardens at Dilston, though somewhat formally laid out, as
previously mentioned, were very beautiful, and were just then in
perfection. The prince admired them very much, and of course everybody
else was enchanted.
After wandering about for some time--now stopping to look at one object,
now at another--the prince walked on with Lady Webb, and the party began
to disperse, moving about in different directions.
Somehow or other, Lord Derwentwater found himself alone with Anna.
He looked about for Dorothy, but she was a long way off with Charles
Radclyffe, and no one was near them.
Close to where they stood was a rustic bench, shaded by a tree, and
saying she felt a little fatigued, Anna sat down. Lord Derwentwater
could not do otherwise than take a place beside her.
We will not say what thoughts agitated her breast, but she felt that the
critical moment had arrived, and trembled lest any interruption should
occur before the word was uttered that might decide her fate.
She did not look at the lovely parterre of flowers before her--nor
listen to the plashing of the fountain--she heard nothing--saw nothing.
But the accents she longed for were not breathed, and Lord Derwentwater
remained silent. Why did he not speak?
Fearing the moment might pass, she raised her magnificent eyes, which
had been thrown upon the ground, and fixed them full upon him.
Though he spoke not, he had been watching her, and the glance he now
encountered pierced his breast. How much was conveyed in that long,
passionate look! How eloquent was the earl's reply! An instantaneous
revelation was made to each of the state of the other's heart. No longer
any doubt. He knew she loved him. She felt he was won.
Yet, as if to make assurance doubly sure, he took her hand. She did not
withdraw it, and still gazing tenderly at her, he said in a low voice,
but which was distinctly audible:
“Can you love me, Anna?”
Her glance became even more passionate, as she answered:
“I can--I do.”
“Will you be mine, then?” demanded the earl, passing his arm round her
waist, and drawing her towards him.
Her reply must have been in the affirmative, yet it was almost stifled
by the kiss imprinted on her lips.
He had only just released her from this fond embrace, when they became
conscious that they were not unobserved.
So engrossed were they by each other that they had not hitherto noticed
the prince and Lady Webb on the further side of the lawn.
Lord Derwentwater, in a moment, decided on the course he ought to
pursue.
“Come with me,” he said to Anna.
And, taking her hand, he led her towards her mother, whose feelings of
pride and satisfaction may be easily imagined when the announcement was
made, and her consent asked to their union.
But it was asked in a manner that does not belong to the present age,
and her consent was given with equal formality, and accompanied by a
blessing.
As they arose from their half-kneeling posture, the prince embraced the
earl, and said to him:
“Accept my sincere congratulations, cousin. Lovelier bride you could not
have found, and in every other respect she is worthy of you. And
you, fair damsel,” he added to Anna, who blushed deeply at the high
compliments paid her, “you may likewise be heartily congratulated on
your good fortune. You have won a husband as noble by nature as he is by
birth. All happiness attend you!”
These gracious observations produced a strong effect on the young pair
to whom they were addressed.
The prince did not, however, tarry for their thanks, but hastened away,
saying he desired to be first to communicate the joyful intelligence to
Sir John Webb.
The rest of the party were assembled on the terrace, and when they
saw the prince approaching, and noticed the peculiar expression of his
countenance, some suspicion of the truth crossed them.
Sir John, therefore, was not surprised, though secretly enchanted, when
a sign was given them to come forward, and, on obeying it, he learnt
from his highness's lips what had occurred. He did not attempt to
disguise his satisfaction, and his loud exclamations soon let the rest
of the party into the secret.
That the news was perfectly agreeable to all the others cannot be
asserted. The hopes of Tom Forster and his charming sister were
annihilated. But since the blow had fallen, it must be borne. So they
concealed their disappointment with a smile.
We are not quite sure that Charles Radclyffe was anxious that the earl
should marry, as his own position in the house might be changed by the
event; but, at all events, he looked pleased. And Father Norham, who
had an almost paternal affection for his noble patron, was certainly
pleased, for he believed Lord Derwentwater had taken a wise step.
Sir John Webb, who had been made the happiest of men by the success of
his wife's scheme, hurried off to embrace his daughter and the earl,
and give them his blessing, and all the others followed to witness the
scene.
Again certain painful feelings were stirred in the breasts of Forster
and his sister, but these were controlled, and all went off very well.
A proposition was next made by the prince, that met with ready
acceptance from all concerned. It was that the earl and his chosen bride
should be solemnly contracted together on the morrow.
“Lord Derwentwater and myself were brought up together like brothers,”
he said. “Long ago, I promised to find him a wife. He has now found one
for himself, and I entirely approve his choice. Since I can scarce hope
to be present at his lordship's marriage, it will be specially agreeable
to me to witness his betrothal.”
This intimation was quite sufficient, and it was arranged that the
ceremony should be performed by Father Nor-ham, and should take place,
next morning, in the little chapel.