Among the companions of Agnes and Marion Dunbar, none was more
calculated to excite a feeling of enthusiastic tenderness and regard
than Clara Granville, whom all approached with a feeling of nearly
romantic interest, occasioned by the etherealized delicacy of her
lovely countenance and fragile form. Sir Patrick, from her earliest
childhood, had always mentioned Clara in terms of such exaggerated
enthusiasm, that Agnes, imagining his taste to be very different,
believed him to be more than half in jest, though his language and
manner seemed daily to become more in earnest, while in terms of
rapture he admired her eloquent and intelligent conversation, so
different from the flippant nonsense of most girls, and the light
gracefulness of her step, saying she looked like some beautiful
apparition, less encumbered with body, and more endowed with spirit,
than any one who ever before stepped upon the earth. Her pale golden
hair, falling like a halo round her fair bright countenance, and the
rare beauty of her large downcast eyes, which were generally veiled
with a look of deep thought and sensibility, gave a charm so peculiar
to her aspect, that the eye loved to dwell upon it as upon some lovely
twilight scene, over which the light of heaven was casting its pure
and peaceful, yet fading refulgence. None looked at Clara without
fearing that she could not be long intended for this world, as the
fervor of her mind and feelings appeared so little in proportion to
the extreme delicacy of her complexion, which was tinted like a
rose-leaf on her transparent cheek, the color flitting with every
passing emotion. It did indeed seem as if the sword within must
quickly wear out the scabbard; yet Clara enjoyed society beyond
measure, and mingled in it with a zest which caused Sir Patrick often
to say she must be stronger certainly than she looked, and there was
nothing, he thought, more odious in a woman than rude health--a sort
of rudeness never certainly attributable to Miss Granville.
Agnes's favorite aversion had always been Clara, formerly her
cotemporary and rival at school, though the rivalship was only felt on
one side, as Miss Granville would have remained unconscious of its
very existence, but for the bitter taunts occasionally levelled at
her, and the tone of evident irritability in which Agnes took it
always for granted that the jealousy was mutual, attributing thoughts
and motives perpetually to her gentle companion, of which so amiable
and well-regulated a disposition was incapable. It may generally be
observed, that many more quarrels arise from people wilfully taking
offence, than from people wilfully giving it; and there is quite as
much ill-temper in the one case as in the other. Clara had suffered
much on account of her every inadvertent word or action being
purposely misconstrued; but she very properly viewed the annoyance as
a salutary lesson in circumspection, before entering the great arena
of society, and mildly avoided all collision of interests or opinions
with Agnes, though her whole powers of conciliation on the part of Sir
Patrick gave his sister reason to apprehend that his affections might
by possibility be engaged to her. Nothing could be more painfully
irritating than the tone of contempt with which Agnes "spoke at" Clara
respecting the art and cunning with which some manoeuvring misses
endeavored to push their fortune in the matrimonial world, by making
advances to gentlemen, which she would despise herself for
condescending to, and that lookers on see more of the game than is
intended. All this was said in such an accidental tone, and in such
general terms, that no decided notice could be taken of it by Clara,
who nevertheless felt so painful a consciousness of what was meant and
insinuated, that she ceased almost entirely to visit Agnes, or to
associate with her.
About the time when Mrs. Smythe left Portobello, Sir Patrick returned
from spending a month at Lady Towercliffe's in Fife, evidently
laboring under a depression of spirits very unusual with him; and when
Agnes, perplexed by observing that he did not attempt to throw off the
cloud of melancholy, tinged very strongly with ill-humor, which had so
suddenly come over him, tried to guess or discover the cause, she
found it for some time impossible to gain a glimpse of the truth,
though she asked as many questions as might have filled a volume of
Pinnock's Catechisms.
At length, after some miscellaneous conversation one day, Agnes
inquired for the twentieth time whether the party in Fife had been
agreeable, when Sir Patrick shortly and drily replied,
"Clara Granville was there!"
"But had you any new beauties?"
"Clara Granville!"
"Pshaw! Well, then! were there any agreeable people?"
"Clara Granville!"
"You are beyond all bearing absurd and tormenting, Pat!" continued
Agnes, with a contemptuous toss of her head; "but I may at least
venture with impunity to ask, were any of the ladies well dressed?"
"Clara Granville!"
"That ends my curiosity on the subject of your visit," replied Agnes,
angrily affecting to yawn. "Never try to persuade me you care for
Clara. She is the most unflirtable girl in the world! As cold as a
statue of ice in an east wind! She has the most tiresome style of
prettiness that can be conceived, with that alabaster paleness, that
petrifying calmness of manner, and a heart like a cucumber! The very
style of her dress is wearying, with not a color that one could give a
name to; and then her long undertoned tete-a-tete conversations about
nobody knows what, as dull and monotonous as a dinner-bell, never
enlivened with a bit of gossip, nor spiced with any scandal! There is
a whole "Society for the suppression of vice" in her eye every time
she looks at one! She would evidently be terrified for the echo of her
own voice, and never yet committed the indiscretion of a laugh!"
"Are you done?" asked Sir Patrick, in a tone of concentrated anger,
which would have silenced any one but Agnes.
"Done! I could speak for two hours without telling you half how little
I think of Clara Granville!" said she, in a paroxysm of eloquence.
"One comfort is, however, she will never take!"
"But Clara has already 'taken,' as you elegantly express yourself,"
exclaimed Sir Patrick, who had been walking vehemently up and down the
room during this tirade from Agnes, and now stood opposite to her,
with a look of angry defiance. "Clara is surpassingly lovely! Her
portrait should be the frontispiece to Finden's next Book of Beauty!
She has the loveliness of a seraph!"
"Certainly, if you mean that she looks as if the first breath of wind
would blow her down! like an overgrown geranium, that should be tied
up to a stick!"
"Clara is delicate and graceful as the first frail blossoms of
spring," interrupted Sir Patrick. "She has but one fault in the world,
and that is, being faultless! Clara is worth a whole creation of
ordinary girls! That look of mild serenity, and those deep, thoughtful
eyes, looking as serene as the blue firmament above. Her every
attitude is what a Guido might have delighted to paint. Agnes, there
is music and rapture in every tone of her voice! At Lady Towercliffe's
no one was looked at, nor spoken to, but Miss Granville! She stole
into all hearts, without any man guessing his danger till too late!
Everybody admired, or, I should rather, say, loved her!"
"You are 'everybody,' then, I suppose, for I never heard of any one
else, who for half a moment thought her tolerable. All this nonsense
is merely to tease me, Pat. Do confess it at once, and be serious!"
"That I never am when I can help it!"
"Well, then, let it always be a jest and I have no objection to call
up a laugh, if it be your humor; but I would engage to walk out of the
world at once, whenever Clara has a serious, downright proposal from
any presentable-looking man, such as one would not be ashamed to sit
in a room with!"
"What do you think of me, Agnes?" asked Sir Patrick, walking straight
up to her and looking his sister full in the face, with a momentary
attempt to be facetious, while his countenance betrayed considerable
agitation. "Would you be much astonished if I had made her an offer?"
"Nonsense, Pat! I would disown you for a brother! Now, do not look
like an ogre at me! You will say any absurdity in jest!"
"You know, Agnes, I have been a month in the house lately with Clara!"
replied Sir Patrick, in a voice which sounded by no means like jest;
"and that month was more than a lifetime in showing me the worth of a
real and heartfelt attachment. Even I, mercenary as I am, could value
it more than gold! I date the beginning of my existence from the hour
I first knew her. There is a depth of mind and heart in the character
of Clara Granville, utterly incomprehensible to ordinary observers.
She does everything well, and says everything with a grace peculiarly
her own. Her manner is the very essence of fascination. Every other
person seems coarse and vulgar in comparison; and I even feel so
myself! I know you will treat me to a cannonade of abuse against
Clara; but that is no matter now," added Sir Patrick, in a tone of
deep dejection; "perhaps it may do me good!"
"Wonders occur every hour of every day, but this is the greatest of
all!" observed Agnes, drily. "I never thought you would commit such a
piece of disinterested nonsense, as to fall in love, gratis, with any
penniless girl, and least of all with Clara. If you were to choose
among all the young ladies I know, blindfold, you could scarcely
choose one more unsuitable! If this indeed be true, Clara may be proud
of her conquest!"
"She ought!" replied Sir Patrick, glancing at his own magnificent head
in a mirror; "but being in many respects peculiar, she by no means
appreciated the honor as you expect!"
"You are possessed by the very genius of nonsense to-day, Pat! but if
such a catch as you were to fall in Clara Granville's way, I should
like to see her and all her family, not more than happy on the
occasion!"
"Well, then! open your ears of astonishment, Agnes! She has actually
rather refused me than otherwise! I am positively more in love with
Clara, than language can express! I could pursue her to the very ends
of the earth! I must, and shall marry her! I would shoot myself
to-morrow, if I thought there could be doubt of it," exclaimed Sir
Patrick, vehemently, while Agnes became gradually as grave as night.
"Clara at first actually accepted me! She was your sister-in-law
elect, for three long and happy weeks, and I did not think life could
have given me so much to live for; but she afterwards most perversely
and unaccountably revoked! What do you think was the reason, Agnes, of
all reasons in the world!"
"I am bad at guessing absurdities," replied Agnes, who would have
hurled a more angry answer at her brother, had she dared. "Whatever
might be the cause, it was very lucky for you, who may, if you know
your own value, make the first match in the kingdom!"
"Well, then! actually that she thought my religious principles not
sufficiently serious! That her brother disapproved of my morals and
conduct! I offered her any terms! To attend chapel with her once every
Sunday; to refrain from Sunday dinners, and Sunday travelling! Not even
to ride out on horseback that day; and, in short, to pass Sir Andrew's
whole Sunday bill in my house; but it did not satisfy her! What would
they have!" continued Sir Patrick, gnawing his lip with vexation. "I
gave her a _carte blanche_ to put my name down as a subscriber to as
many tract, missionary, and slave-abolition societies, as she pleased,
and asked her how many distressed families she wished me to maintain."
"How excessively handsome!" said Agnes, satirically. "All I need say
is, it was very genteel!"
"Yet Clara persevered in giving me a plump decline! No wonder you look
incredulous! I can scarcely yet believe it myself! This shall not
last, however! I felt piqued at first, and left her. I am always too
soon, or too late, in all I do; but it must be tried again and again!
I would rather live without the sun and stars, than without Clara
Granville! The very repetition of her name is a pleasure! Agnes, what
can you do to assist me!"
"Assist! I shall do everything in the world to bring you back your
senses, Pat! Rather than see that grave, priggish, matter-of-fact,
Clara, my sister-in-law, I would----"
Agnes could not, at the moment, think of any illustration sufficiently
strong to exemplify her abhorrence of such a catastrophe, and twisted
her ringlets over her finger for some moments, in dignified and
portentous silence. At length she said, with an air of supreme
contempt, "You know, Pat! Clara Granville has not a shilling in the
wide world!--never had! At school she used to be like a bale of cotton
from the manufactories; cotton stockings, pink gingham frocks, and
horrid grey beaver gloves! She once had a silk dress, and it was
turned, I think, three times!"
"Fiddlesticks and nonsense! So much the better! She will be an
excellent wife for a poor man; and poor enough I shall soon be! You
need not argue with a milestone, but put a good face on the matter in
time, Agnes; for during all the four thousand years that men have been
falling in love, and marrying, I believe no one ever did so merely to
please his sister, and I am not the man to begin! In most respects, I
may, perhaps, be sordidly anxious for money, but in the matter of love
I have taken the whim of being disinterested. If Clara had the Bank of
England for her portion, I could not love her more. As for heiresses,
I hear the only one worth a thought, Miss Howard Smytheson, with her
million a-year, is bespoke to order for De Crespigny."
"Perhaps he has taken the whim of being disinterested also!" replied
Agnes, arranging a favorite curl with great complacency at a mirror.
"His uncle is very arbitrary; and like all uncles, continues for ever
to think his nephew a perfect boy. He threatened lately to marry
himself, if Captain De Crespigny declined! That old dot has some
spirit! He seems not to be aware that there is such a thing in the
world for himself as a refusal; and certainly, Pat, I can scarcely
fancy the woman in existence who could refuse you. I hardly know
whether to wonder most that Clara had the opportunity, or that she had
the inclination!"
"The whim will soon wear off! She loves me, that is certain; but if
even she hated me, it would make no difference in my attachment. I like
her the better for showing some spirit, and great disinterestedness.
Clara's conduct was like herself, beautiful. Her affections are mine!
I see it, and no earthly power can tear her from me! I would follow
her to the very grave."
Sir Patrick did not by any means find Clara's resolutions, which were
formed upon principle, of such very malleable materials as he had
prophesied. His own feelings were, on all occasions, like a whirlwind;
and his eagerness, excited to excess by opposition, became unbounded
to meet Clara, or to catch the most distant glimpse of her
shadow,--but in vain. Day after day he contrived to pass beneath her
window, but she had adopted invisibility; and evening after evening,
he obliged Agnes, greatly against her inclination, to send the very
kindest notes of invitation, which he dictated himself, asking her to
the house; but the polite apology which invariably returned, might
almost have been lithographed, it became so frequently necessary; yet
still Sir Patrick persevered and hoped, saying one day, in a voice of
irritability and depression, to Agnes, "It seems as if we were
destined never to see Clara again!"
"That would be too much happiness," exclaimed Agnes peevishly;
twisting Clara's last reply into a thousand shapes and tossing it into
the fire. "This is all so like you, Pat! You invent a thousand reasons
for wishing something till it is obtained, and then you care for it no
more! If Clara Granville consented, you would be, like Sir Peter
Teazle, 'the most miserable man alive before people were done wishing
you joy!' Men are all so changeable and selfish!"
"Whether are men or women most selfish, I should like to know?"
"Men, decidedly! From six years old, till sixty, they seem born and
brought up to think of no one's comfort but their own, and they always
marry to please themselves!"
"Of course! and very right they should!"
Agnes had now got upon a favorite subject of declamation, the
selfishness of mankind,--for those who are selfish or ill-tempered
themselves, live always under the delusion that they are the only
persons living entirely exempt from such faults,--but her eloquence
now soon left her "in possession of the house," as Sir Patrick made a
rapid retreat, followed by that very effective slamming of the door,
so infallible a receipt for obtaining the last word in an argument,
and for asserting in undoubted terms, a very decided view of the
subject in question.
Though Sir Patrick Dunbar had long been known as a Tattersall and
Doncaster man, yet Clara Granville had little suspected that his name
was implicated in transactions of rather an equivocal complection,
while the good-natured half of the world persevered in calling it
scandal, being unwilling very severely to censure the peccadilloes of
the handsomest and most agreeable man in their circle of society,
living only for the enjoyment of the senses and the happiness of the
present hour, while he thought it too long a look-out to anticipate
what might happen the day after to-morrow. In respect to Sir Patrick's
reputation, a vague understanding seemed to prevail that all was not
right, yet no explicit explanation seemed ever to be obtained.
Some thing there was--what, none presumed to say,
Clouds lightly passing as the summer day.
There are not only faults in the very best characters, but redeeming
qualities also in the very worst, and with much selfishness, the
result of a perverted education, the handsome and fascinating Sir
Patrick had naturally a good temper and excitable affections, though
these were wound up occasionally to the wildest excess, while his
fortune was not more recklessly squandered than his attachment in the
momentary impulse of an hour.
As, therefore, no man is so thoroughly excellent as to be without
errors, neither is any living mortal so depraved as to be without
virtues, and the utmost extreme, in one respect or the other, will
only be perfected in an eternal world. It often seems to an observer,
as if two opposite beings had been kneaded into one, since qualities
so contradictory may be traced in the same individual.
Though Sir Patrick Dunbar was eager and rapacious in acquiring money,
and would incur any meanness to avoid paying it, he seemed,
nevertheless, lavish, and what some people mis-called generous, in
squandering what he called his own. Though cold and selfish in
general, some fine impulses had been in his nature, which proved him
capable of vehement, persevering, and passionate attachment, where his
affections, or rather his fancy, had been once engaged; while, at the
same time, he was more ashamed to testify any feeling than he would
have been to commit a crime, and endeavored to blind people towards
that sensibility which was in reality the redeeming point in his
character, by talking often with the utmost contempt and even ridicule
of all those for whom he might have been supposed to feel the weakness
of a real attachment.
Sir Patrick had indeed been, what his companions called, "fairly
caught," by Clara; and his heart, till now hermetically sealed against
all real confidence and friendship, was now for the first time
unclosed, in its inmost recesses, while even his hackneyed mind seemed
to catch a ray of light and warmth from the sunny freshness and purity
of Clara's intellectual mind. Her intelligent conversation, enlivened
by a vein of sly pleasing humor, had completely taken him by surprise,
being as fresh and gentle as a summer breeze, while her appearance, so
young, timid, and lovely, caused the eye to rest on her with a
sentiment of almost melancholy interest. Clara had only emerged from
school, finally, a few days before Sir Patrick met her at Lady
Towercliffe's, and her extreme naivete was her first attraction,
though that was superseded before long by still greater admiration,
while he became hourly more fascinated by her melancholy songs and
thoughtful conversation.
To Clara, Sir Patrick had only hitherto been known as a school
companion of her brother's, but so conscientiously did Richard
Granville invariably abstain from evil-speaking, that, even where
justice might have warranted the severest censure, he merely became
silent. It is observable that, in the wisdom of Providence, nothing is
made in vain. Even the very weeds that encumber our path have, when
under proper restraint, their important uses, and in the mind of man,
the tendency implanted by nature, to discuss and criticize the conduct
of others, has, when properly exercised, its own advantages, by acting
as a salutary restraint on the conduct of those who would otherwise do
evil with impunity, and by also giving a timely warning, and hanging
out a beacon-light to those who would otherwise trust their interest
and happiness where such confidence was unmerited, and where all
contact is dangerous.
Captain De Crespigny's jilting propensities were the less dangerous,
from their being so generally discussed in society, as few were
willing that the unwary should suffer, rather than his faults be
exposed to censure; but Mr. Granville, by not giving his sister timely
warning against the dissipated extravagance and almost infidel
principles of his old school-companion, had now, unfortunately exposed
her to a danger he had not anticipated, as it never occurred to his
imagination, in its wildest fancies, that the reckless, dissolute Sir
Patrick, who had long sneered at marriage, and even broken that holy
tie for others, might find a charm in the pure, calm, high-minded
Clara, which raised him above his ordinary self, and made him appear
all she could most like or admire. During their earlier intercourse,
she saw nothing in his conversation to disapprove, because Sir Patrick
most unintentionally deceived her into a belief of his being very
different from what he really was, owing to the respect with which he
treated all her opinions; and only when he talked to others, did she
become startled occasionally by the tone of careless defiance with
which he spoke of all those persons and things which she was most
accustomed to reverence and esteem. Before long, his attachment had
become so unbounded, that, conscious he could not obtain Clara's hand
if she knew his real character, he assumed all that seemed most likely
to secure her confidence, and, for the pleasure of being with her,
attended church regularly on Sunday at the village. Clara was
astonished at his evident ignorance of the forms of devotion; yet
knowing his education had been finished by a clergyman, she supposed
he must have imbibed a due respect for the ordinances; while Lady
Towercliffe, indulging her usual jobbing propensities, was enchanted
to make up a match of any kind in her own house, and praised Sir
Patrick as the most immaculate and perfect of men.
Clara's intimacy with Sir Patrick had been continually increasing for
some time, before his attention became so very obvious as to excite
her peculiar interest, or to make her conscious of a necessity for
inquiring into the state of her own heart; but, upon doing so, she
became instantly aware of the deep hold he had acquired over her
thoughts and affections. His frank, off-hand, good-humored manner had
pleased her, his amusing conversation had enlivened her, and at length
his ardent professions of attachment interested her deeply, being
expressed with all the eloquence of natural feeling.
Clara, in the gloomy recesses of Mrs. Penfold's school-room, had
learned nothing of the world, and her heart at once, therefore,
endowed Sir Patrick with all those amiable qualities which he assumed,
while she yielded herself to the most pleasing of all earthly dreams,
that of loving and being beloved by one who seemed to deserve and to
return her attachment; while her sole hesitation in accepting the
offer he soon after made of his hand, arose from her doubts, whether,
in the chief essential to mutual happiness, in religious faith, hope,
and morality, they were so far of similar mind as to afford a
well-grounded prospect of happiness.
In almost undoubting confidence of a satisfactory answer, Clara wrote
to consult her brother, then studying for holy orders at Oxford,
in whose opinion, on all occasions, she implicitly relied; and it
was with grief and astonishment, which no words could describe, that
she received a reply, in which Mr. Granville, with affectionate
earnestness, reproached himself for not having explicitly laid open to
her the character of his former companion and _ci-devant_ friend, who
was, he grieved to say, a ruined gamester--a bankrupt in fame, as much
as in fortune, dreaded by the most respectable among women, and shunned
by the most respectable among men, even by his kind, indulgent, but
high-minded uncle, Sir Arthur,--an open scoffer frequently at the
decencies of life, and still more at its most sacred duties and hopes.
"Sir Patrick makes no secret of his profligacy," continued Mr.
Granville, "showing the most flagrant dishonesty in the only way a
gentleman can be tempted to do so, by not paying his debts, while many
poor tradesmen have already been ruined by his extravagance; and he has
openly entered into a perfect crusade against religion and morality. In
short, my dear Clara, Sir Patrick is by no means to be trusted with the
happiness of another, and least of all with yours, being a confirmed
roue, still pursuing the very wildest career of unprincipled
dissipation. Many have already had reason to mourn they ever trusted
him or knew him, for he is the very reverse of all you believe and
wish. It would be extravagant to waste a hope upon the reformation of a
reckless libertine, who thus outrages every law of God and man; and
often have you and I agreed, that it was a thing not to be conceived, a
woman who rightly valued her immortal soul placing herself under the
authority and influence of a husband who did not! The risk is too
great; and how much better to suffer now the sorrow of a separation,
than to endure the long agony of an unsuitable union, for which your
own heart and conscience would continually upbraid you. If the
tenderest affection of a brother can in any degree compensate for the
sacrifice, you need not be told, my dear Clara, that I shall bestow it
upon you more lavishly than ever; and it will be my first earthly wish,
as well as my sacred duty, to render you happier than you could ever be
with a man of principles--, or rather of no principles,--like Sir
Patrick!"
Had the grave opened at Clara's feet, she could scarcely have been
more startled and astonished than by the contents of this most
unforeseen letter, the first unwelcome line ever received from
Richard. She could have borne anything but to find her lover
unprincipled or unworthy; and a wintry chill seemed to gather round
her heart, while, with a stifled groan which struggled for utterance,
she covered her face with her hand, and sank back upon a sofa. By a
powerful effort, Clara preserved herself from fainting--she was
resolved not to faint, and she did not--but in the secret chamber of
her heart all was darkness, loneliness, and grief. Visions of earthly
happiness had glittered for a time, in brightest coloring, before her
mind; but now they must be blotted out by her tears. They all lay
prostrate and disfigured at her feet, scorched and blasted as if by
lightning; and her heart, bewildered by a multitude of thoughts and
emotions, seemed full almost to bursting.
Clara wept many bitter tears over her letter, and she not only wept
but acted. Without delay, Clara prepared to return to the relation
with whom, during her brother's absence, she usually found a home; and
before her departure, not only wrote to Sir Patrick, stating in terms
of touching grief, all her reasons for so suddenly and unwillingly
withdrawing from her engagement to him; but she had a long and most
afflicting interview with him, vainly endeavoring to convince her
lover, that their total incompatibility of sentiment raised a barrier
between them, which forbade the possibility of their union.
Sir Patrick became nearly frantic with vexation, while he could not
but admire the beautiful grace of her manner, and the sorrowful
modulations of her voice when she spoke, yet unconscious how
completely the gentle Clara was ruled by principle as with a sceptre
of iron, he seemed utterly unable to comprehend why his talking
carelessly, or even contemptuously of religion, should in any degree
affect the preference which she had once confessed for him, and which
he felt assured she still entertained. With passionate vehemence he
urged the depth of his attachment, and his total indifference to
everything in life but herself, while he warmly protested that she,
and she only, could complete the reformation which her own influence
had already begun.
"You love me, Clara, and would cast me off for ever! Impossible! Let
us forget all my early indiscretions--my vices, then, if it must be
so--but why should every leaf of my past life be turned over now!
Since we met I have been an altered being! I am astonished even at
myself! If I have deceived you, it is because I deceived myself, but
now I am entirely in your power. Use it then kindly, and forget all
but my attachment; I have staked my whole happiness in life on the
hope of your accepting me. The wish to deserve you shall be a
sufficient motive to fit me for all the duties of life. Without you I
shall have no object, no hope, not even a home, for never more shall I
have one unless you share it. Clara, let me throw myself on your
compassion, if not on your love."
"Oh no!" said Clara, hurriedly, yet with a look of pale and tearful
distress, "I dare not hesitate! All must be as I have said. It will be
most for the happiness of both!"
"Happiness! speak not to me of happiness without you! It is a mockery!
Every tie to peace or virtue would then be ruptured."
"There are better ties to virtue and stronger," whispered Clara, in a
faltering voice, while she gasped for utterance, and a glow-like
sunset was on her cheek.
"No! no! not for me! There may be amusement, frivolity, gaiety, and
dissipation; but I never understood the real meaning of happiness till
we met. My whole thoughts, feelings, and character have been
revolutionized to please you, Clara, but your influence alone could
snatch me from evil--from myself--from all on which I have hitherto
wasted my existence. For your sake, and for yours alone, I could be
all, and more than you wish. Years spent in your society shall prove
the extent of your influence."
"By trusting to such a hope, many, like me, have wrecked their whole
peace both now and hereafter," said Clara, trying to speak with
firmness, but her voice became almost inaudible. "If it were the same
thing to will as to do, I have not a doubt of your sincerity; but the
mere resolution to change established habits, unless the power be
derived from above, is only an air-built castle to which I dare not
trust. It would be easy still to indulge myself in romantic schemes of
domestic happiness, such as I have lately anticipated, but these hopes
could only be blossoms without root or durability, unless they arise
from firm principles of religion. Without such a cement happiness has
neither worth nor durability."
"Clara! you have never loved as I do!" exclaimed Sir Patrick
reproachfully. "I never did, and never can express half what I feel;
but you do not yet know the heart you so cruelly undervalue! It seems
now as if you would rather cut off your hand than bestow it on me!"
"Perhaps in future years--" stammered Clara. "We are both young; and
if, for your own sake, you alter in some respects, we might yet look
forward to--to----"
"Speak not of delay! that is worse than death! I never in my life
could endure suspense! No! it must--it shall be now, or never!"
"Never, then," replied Clara, in a low, husky, indistinct voice,
while, in spite of herself, tears rolled over her face. "It ought
indeed to be never! Forget me, as if I were already dead! I must only
consent to pass my life with a confirmed and consistent Christian,
completely master of himself and of his actions. If we lived for each
other, I should have a thousand anxieties, regrets, and sorrows, which
you could neither foresee nor understand! Oh no! I must only love on
earth one whom I may hope to love hereafter for ever!"
"Must it be my misfortune, Clara, to have known you?" exclaimed Sir
Patrick, with agitated energy. "Do you not see that with me, to know
excellence is to love it, and that if we were constantly together, I
should always be like you. The loss of honor, fortune, or reputation,
I might endure; but your loss I cannot, and will not. Tell me, then,
are my whole affections to be buried in darkness, never to see a
dawn?"
"If my happiness in this world only were at hazard, I would venture
all for your sake?" replied Clara, in a low, gentle, tremulous voice.
"I feel grateful for your attachment--more than grateful; but marriage
is so very awful and sacred a tie! to devote every early thought,
every feeling, every hope, every hour of my life to one! I could not
and dare not enter on such a duty, without a perfect and unalterable
confidence. I feel that to be united in love and duty where I did not
esteem is a misfortune I could not survive--which I could scarcely
even wish to survive. In giving you my heart, as I have already done,
I ventured my all of worldly happiness on that one stake, and have
lost it; but there are better hopes and higher duties, which bind me
to follow them, even though death were the consequence."
Sir Patrick clenched his hands vehemently together, while his
countenance burned, and muttering a curse between his teeth, which
chilled the blood of Clara in her veins, he walked about the room with
rapidly-increasing excitement, till at length stopping before her, he
said, in accents of angry reproach, "You have spoken my doom, Clara,
and only from your own lips would I have believed it."
Clara buried her face in her hands, and feeling that her high-wrought
fortitude was giving way, she hurried towards the door; but as she
tremblingly endeavored to open it, Sir Patrick again seized her hand,
saying, "You are mine, Clara; you are bound by a promise that must not
be broken!"
"I shall never give myself to another," said she, still hastening
away. "Be happy in making others happy. May you yet find one who loves
you as I have done, and who shall not hereafter find the same reasons
for giving you up. I shall pray for you, and rejoice in all the good I
hear. Farewell."
No words could do justice to the silent agony of Clara's young heart,
when, in solitary grief, she retraced her whole intimacy with Sir
Patrick, and reflected that she had bid a last adieu to one whom she
must not esteem, and yet could not but love. All that this world could
offer she had rejected for conscience sake. A cold frost seemed to
gather around her spirit, while, trembling and depressed, she viewed
the desolation of all her lately cherished hopes; and amidst the
ruined fabric of her happiness, she now seemed like some solitary
pillar, surrounded by the broken fragments of what once supported and
adorned it; yet summoning to her aid that Christian firmness, which in
her amounted to heroism, she gazed on the shattered wreck without a
wish to restore it at the sacrifice of principle, determined, as far
as her sensitive nature would admit, to adopt the rule of an aged and
experienced Christian, "Hope nothing, fear nothing, expect anything,
and be prepared for everything!"