CHAP. IX.

When the family met at breakfast, the Baron appeared unusually affable,

and Sir Philip in high spirits. A walk was proposed to take a view

of the town, nunnery, and environs of the cattle. Roseline and her

sisters were requested to be of the party, and they were very soon

joined by De Clavering, De Willows, and Hugh Camelford. This little

promenade was so pleasant, that it seemed to harmonize every mind,

and to produce a redoubled and grateful relish for the early beauties

of the infant spring.

"Already now the snow-drop dar'd appear,

The first pale blossom of th'unripened year,

As Flora's breath, by some transforming pow'r,

Had chang'd an icicle into a flow'r.

Its name and hue the scentless plant retains,

And Winter lingers in its icy veins."

The Baron, who had politely offered the assistance of his arm to

Roseline, (which her father bade her accept,) whispered some very

fine things in her ear in praise of her shape, beauty, and

understanding,--told her it was a reproach on the taste and judgment

of his sex that so charming a female had not put on hymeneal

fetters;--it was a positive proof of the blindness of the god of love.

"Surely you forget, my lord, (replied the blushing Roseline,) that

I have scarcely left off my leading strings, and am but just liberated

from the confinement of the school."

Age, he told her, ought not to be reckoned by the number of years,

but by accomplishments and good qualities.

"That kind of calculation (said De Clavering) would make your age,

Miss de Morney, more upon a par with the Baron's."

"More upon a par, you mean, (added De Willows,) with our first

parent Adam."

"What Atam? (cried Hugh Camelford, skipping to the side of Roseline,

and eagerly handing her over a little run of water they were obliged

to cross,)--what were you saying about our crate crandfather Atam?

I have often wished to see the old poy, and trink a pottle of pure

water with him from the pond in the carten of Eden."

"Why so, sir?" said the stately and mortified Baron, who felt and

seemed to shrink from the contrast between the active and lively

gallantry of the giddy Cambrian and the slow and cautious efforts

of his own.

"Why?--why? pecause he must be a prave fellow to venture matrimony

with the first woman he saw."

"How the devil should he do otherwise than take the first, when there

was no other to choose!" said De Clavering.

"The tevil however was even with him after all, (replied the

unthinking Camelford;)--the old poy had petter have peen quiet."

"I do not see that, (said De Willows;) and, as the mischief was

productive of some good, surely we have no right to criticise with

severity that conduct which was forgiven by Being so much more

perfect than the creature he had created."

"That is as much as to say, (rejoined Camelford,) that, when we

choose to play the fool, cofet our neighbor's wife or taughter, we

have only to plame our own imperfect nature, repent, and be forcifen."

"That would be to trust our hopes of forgiveness upon a very sandy

foundation indeed, (said Sir Philip,) as determined guilt, or a

continuance in error, can have but little chance of immortal

happiness."

"And for our mortal share of that same commodity, (replied the lively

Hugh,) we must not trust to matrimony, I fear, as I never heard married

people found their happiness puilt upon a rock."

This speech produced a general laugh, but Sir Philip, who was by

no means pleased with the subject, said with a smile to the Baron,

"These young men think they know more than their forefathers."

"By which means, (replied he,) they will most assuredly entail upon

themselves the mortification of knowing less."

The conversation, during the rest of the walk, was confined to such

objects as occasionally presented themselves to observation. The

inhabitants of the town came to their doors to catch a look at the

party from the castle. To as many as were known by the governor he

spoke familiarly, as did the other gentlemen, and they concluded the

Baron must be some very great man, perhaps the king himself in

disguise, because he did not once condescend to address them.

Roseline chatted with some young girls who came out to make their

best curtesies, while the Baron thought all these attentions paid

to such plebeian souls wonderfully troublesome. At dinner he scarcely

spoke five words, and De Willows was do disgusted with his forbidding

haughtiness, that the next day he presented to De Clavering the

following satire on pride, saying it was a tribute justly due to the

Baron for his supreme excellency in the display of that detestable

feature in his character.

Hell's first born exhalation sure is pride!

Who, with its sister, envy, would divide

The various blessings to poor mortals given.

By the kind bounty of indulgent heaven.

What at the last have kings to make them proud!

A gilded coffin and a satin shroud.

The lordly worm on these will quickly prey;

For worms, like kings, in turn will have their day.

What then is man who boasts his form and make?

A reptile's meal,--a worm's high-flavour'd steak,

The epicure, who caters like a slave,

Is but a pamper'd morsel for the grave.

Envy's a canker of such subtle power,

It steals all pleasure from the gayest hour.

It is the deadly nightshade of the mind;

With secret poison all its arts refin'd;

And, when attended by it vile relation,

Would spread a plague destructive to a nation.

Then send these hags back to their native hell,

With fiends and evil spirits formed to dwell.

No more on worth let man look down with scorn,

And frown on those not quite so highly born;

Nor, as the coaches rattle from his door,

Boast, like proud Haman, of not being poor!

Earth's doom'd to earth, all folly there must end,--

Then read, and own the satirist a friend.

Madeline had been invited, and obtained permission of the abbess to

spend the following day at the castle. This gave additional vivacity

to the lively spirits of Edwin, who, with his sister, spent as much

time with the prisoner as they could steal, without exciting curiosity

of suspicion. Roseline gave them with some humour the ghost-story,

as imparted to her by Audrey, and cautioned Albert against having any

lights seen from the windows, lest it should be productive of such

inquiries as might lead to a discovery of the rooms being inhabited;

but, notwithstanding all her attempts to fly from herself, and conceal

from the observing eye of love her own internal conflicts, she was

almost tempted to throw aside the mask, and at once confess all

her apprehensions.

How were these apprehensions heightened, when, in the afternoon,

her father told her in a whisper he wished to see her in his study

before the family assembled at breakfast, having some intelligence

of the most agreeable nature to impart, which he hoped and believed

would make her one of the happiest, as it could not fail to render

her one of the most envied of her sex.

Roseline trembled, turned pale, and to the earliest opportunity of

withdrawing, not daring to trust Edwin with her fears, or risk

feeing the prisoner for some hours, lest her agitation should betray

suspicions of she knew not what, but in which her terrified imagination

confirmed all the hints her maid had given her.--Marry the Baron!--it

was a thought so unnatural, so repugnant to every wish, every feeling

of her heart,--so inimical to the ideas she had formed of happiness,

that it was not to be endured.--She wept, wrung her hands, recollected

herself, and again sunk into despondency; but at all events resolved

to acquire resolution to go through the interview with her father,

and give him such answers as should convince him an union with his

friend (if such was the painful subject he had to communicate) would

make her the veriest wretch on earth. Her heart was no longer in her

own possession, but that she must not dare to avow; all therefore that

she could determine was, to refuse the Baron, and to love the prisoner,

and him only, to the end of her life.

These important points settled for the present, gave to her perturbed

spirits momentary relief, and enabled her to join the family without

creating any suspicion that they were unusually depressed; when, however,

she followed her brother into the prisoner's room, it was with the

utmost difficulty she maintained any command over her feelings; but,

unwilling to alarm of distress her unfortunate lover, till necessity

compelled her to acquaint him with her sorrows, the only difference

her painful struggles produced was an addition of gentle tenderness

to her manner; and, though she had often thought her affection could

admit of no increase, yet, at this moment, he was, if possible, still

move beloved, still more endeared by the ten thousand uncommon ties

which had so wonderfully tended to unite hearts that appeared to be

under the directing will of Providence. The next morning, previously

to seeing her father, Roseline once more ventured to question Audrey,

and so earnestly begged she would explain all she meant by the hints

she had given respecting the Baron, that poor Audrey, softened almost

to tears by seeing her young lady really distressed, no longer

remembered her former petulance, but readily complied with her request,

though, in fact, all she knew amounted to little more than she had

already told;--namely, that the Baron came to look for a wife to carry

home, and shut up in his old castle;--that the Baron's servant had

informed her he was in love with her young lady;--that Sir Philip

liked him for a son-in-law, and they were soon to be married:--"But,

Christ Jesus, miss! he is such an infamy man, he would no more mind

ordering one of his vassals to be thrown into a fiery furnace than

my master would killing a pig; and Pedro says, he ought to have been

put into the spettacle court fifty and fifty times, for his entregens

and fornications; for, before his first wife died--"

"What then? (exclaimed Roseline,) has the Baron been married more

than once?"

"Bless your heart, miss, he has killed two wives already, and the

Lord in his mercy shorten his days, that a third my never fall into

the clutches of such a manufactor!--Miss, I would not fortify my word

even to gain a gentleman for a husband; and, as I have a Christian

soul, which I hope father Anselm will keep out of purgatory, I have

told the truth, and only the truth; you must demonstrate with your

father, but don't go for to get me turned out of my place for wishing

to preserve you from being led to the haltar by such an old

imperial task-master."

Roseline, too much alarmed to be as usual amused with the singular

oratory of her simple but well-meaning attendant, thanked her for

her good wishes, and promised never to mention the information she

had communicated.

"Well, then, bless your sweet face! I'll be crucified but I'll municate

to you all I can pick up. Pedro is marvelly keen and clever, yet he

appears as innocent as the babe unborn, and for all he gets pretty

gleanings and pickings out of his old master, he hates him as heartily

as I hates fast-days and confessions; for you see, miss, one does not

like to tell tales of oneself, and, in my opinion, some of monks and

father confessors don't find in their hearts any ejection to

us pretty girls."

Roseline, having dismissed her loquacious attendant, endeavoured to

acquire sufficient fortitude to meet her father with composure, and

to arm herself with resolution to withstand any attempts he might make

to compel her into measures from which every feeling of her heart

recoiled. She too well knew the warmth and obstinacy of her father's

temper, when he met with opposition in a favourite plan, not to dread

the contest. She now concluded, from many preceding circumstances,

that the Baron was brought to the castle for the horrid purpose of

becoming her husband, and unfortunately at this moment recollected

with redoubled tenderness the very great difference between him and

the man whom, by a chain of the most singular and interesting

circumstances, she had been led to regard with a degree of affection

she scarcely dared to investigate, and of which she knew not the full

force. Her brother, her dear Edwin, too, had formed an attachment

equally repugnant to the will and ambition of his father. The painful

recollection awakened her warmest sympathy, and increased her

own sorrows.

"Ah! (she exclaimed,) how darkly overclouded is the prospect which

a few months back seemed so bright! Well, let the tempest come, let

the thunder burst on my defenceless head, I will--"

Here she was interrupted by a summons to attend her father, which

she instantly arose to obey; but her trembling limbs were scarcely

able to support her, and she was obliged to rest several times before

she could sufficiently recover herself to appear in his presence,

without discovering the long and severe conflicts she had vainly

endeavoured to conquer.

Sir Philip, on her entering the room, eagerly arose to meet her, and

either did not, or, what is more probable, would not seem to notice

her confusion. He tenderly took her hand, and led her to a chair;

then, seating himself by her, observed with a smile, that he doubted

not her curiosity had been excited, and told her he would have a kiss

before he would disclose the secret; "for the business (he continued)

which I have to negotiate with my sweet girl demands secresy."

Roseline, afraid of trusting her voice, bowed in silence, but her

manner shewed she was all attention.

"My dear girl, (said Sir Philip,) why all this apparent tremor? I

hope you are, and ever have been convinced that my first, my most

anxious wishes are to see my children happy."--

(Then, thought Roseline, you will not surely so much mistake the road

to happiness as to propose your friend to me for a husband.)

"Baron Fitzosbourne has solicited me to intercede with you in his

behalf. Notwithstanding the greatness of his pretensions, he has even

condescended to entreat I would intercede with my dear Roseline, that

she will in due time permit him to lead her to the altar."

Roseline, extremely agitated, made an attempt to speak, which Sir

Philip observing, said, "Attend to me a few moments longer, my dear;

I will then give you leave to express your joyful surprise at the

good fortune which awaits you.--My noble friend, from the very first

moment of seeing you, loved, and wished to make you his own: he, like

a man of honour, inquired if your heart was disengaged; I assured him

it was, for I knew you too well, my dear girl, to suppose you would

ever dispose of it without a father's sanction. Eager to possess a

treasure which had never strayed from its own spotless mansion, he

then requested my permission to become a candidate for your favour.

I readily and freely gave it, and encouraged him to hope he would

meet neither with caprice nor opposition; at the same time I candidly

told him, that, though my fortune was upon the whole considerable,

yet, as my family was large and still might increase, my daughter's

portions could be but small,--so very small, that I feared it would

prove an impediment to your union. He generously overlooked this

objection, and wishes only to gain your heart and hand; while the

share you would be entitled to have of your father's property he

requests may be given among the rest of my family, and he will make

an equal settlement upon you, as if you brought him a large fortune.

Indeed, so noble and disinterested were his proposals, that they both

gratified and astonished me: they are such as no parent could receive

with indifference,--no young woman refuse. The Baron has not only a

princely fortune, but a princely spirit, and such unbounded interest,

that my Roseline will not only secure rank and splendor to herself,

but will prove the fortunate means of obtaining them for her brothers

and sisters, and of making the last closing scenes of her parents'

days happier and freer from care than they have ever been."

Ah! thought Roseline, and her own irretrievably wretched; for, among

all the treasures to be purchased by this unnatural union, happiness

is not included. She sighed deeply, and, without looking up,

remained silent.

Sir Philip, rather alarmed at the alteration in her countenance,

which changed from being extremely flushed to the most deadly paleness;

and, observing a tear stealing down her cheeks, still appeared

determined to think he should find no difficulty in over-ruling any

little objection she might venture to make. He put one hand into her's,

and the other round her waist, and again addressing her, said, "He

did not wonder that an offer so splendid and noble should affect and

overpower a spirit humble and unassuming as her's. I always knew the

inestimable value of the Baron's friendship, and am equally sensible

of the rich prize I possess in a daughter; but I never dared to

cherish the grateful hope that I should live to see two persons on

whom I depended for so large a portion of my happiness united, or

that a child of De Morney's was to repay the noble Baron for his

generosity to her father."

"For heaven's sake! my dear dear father, (cried the almost fainting

Roseline,) do not thus seem to misunderstand the nature of feelings

entitled to your tenderest pity.--I never, never can love the Baron!"

Sir Philip hastily arose; fury flashed from his eyes; every feature

was beginning to be convulsed with passion, but he struggled against

the rage he wished to subdue, while she continued,--"Consider my

extreme youth; contrast it with the age of your friend;--can I be

a fit or eligible wife for a man older than my father?--Would not

that be to punish most severely the man for whom, so far from loving,

I have ever felt an invincible dislike, which sometimes I have thought,

if he stayed much longer at the castle, would increase to aversion."

Sir Philip, who had neither expected to meet nor was prepared to

encounter an opposition so determined, was no longer able to keep

his passion within bounds.

"Roseline, (cried he, striking his clenched fist on the table, and

looking with the wildness of a maniac,) dare not presume to cherish,

or to avow, a dislike which will not only plunge a dagger into your

mother's heart, but rob you of a father. What business can a girl

of your age have to like or dislike but as your parents shall

direct?--Give them up for ever, or accept the Baron!--How will you

reconcile yourself to become an alien to your family?--how relish

spending your days in a nunnery, instead of enjoying liberty and every

pleasure in the gay sunshine of a court, glittering with diamonds,

surrounded by admirers, equal in rank and superior in fortune to many

of our most ancient nobility?--Consider well before you determine.

To enable you to conquer your diffidence, or caprice, on month I

will give you;--one month I will allow to the struggles of maiden

bashfulness, or the wayward humour of your sex. Yet hear at once my

final resolution. If, during that period, you either alarm or disgust

the Baron by your folly or ignorance, so as to make him repent the

noble overtures he had made to secure an alliance with my family,--or

if you attempt to damp the ardour of his passion by your coldness,--if

at the end of that period you do not, without any visible reluctance,

accept him as a lover, and promise to give him your hand, I will

instantly send you into a convent of the severest order, and compel

you to take the veil."

Roseline, overpowered by his manner, fell on the floor in a state

of insensibility.--Her father now saw he had gone too far; he was

alarmed; but, much as he felt himself distressed, he too well knew

what he was about, to call for assistance; he therefore, by the usual

methods, endeavoured to recover her as well as he could, and, as soon

as he saw her revive, soothed her hurried spirits with every fond

attention, addressed her by the tenderest appellations, and begged

her to have pity on him and on herself.

Roseline, too much terrified to contend farther at that time, heard

him with silent despondency, and hoped the cruel contest would be

ended by her death; for, as she never before had fainted she imagined

it was a prelude to her dissolution. Sir Phillip, to reconcile her,

if possible, to his ambitious views, argued the matter with that

sophistry and art which in all ages have been practised with too much

success; assured her of every flattering indulgence that a youthful

heart could desire desire,--painted her future prospects in colours

most likely to captivate the attention and ensnare the senses; and

even went so far as to promise, till the end of the month, he would

not mention the Baron's name to her again, but insisted on her

receiving his attentions with complacency, and desired her not to

make a confidant of any one in a matter of so much importance: he

likewise informed her, he had forbidden her mother's talking to her

on the subject, and concluded this painful interview with telling

her, he trusted her gentleness, duty, and affection, would determine

her to oblige and gratify her anxious and tender father in the first

and most prevailing wishes of his heart. He recommended her to retire

to her own room, and promised to find a proper excuse for her absence.

After leading her to the door of his apartment, he embraced and left her.

Sir Philip de Morney, though in many respects a kind father and a

good husband, was proud and aspiring. These passions, as he advanced

in years, gained additional ascendancy over his mind, and as he saw

his children approaching that period when it became necessary to

think of an establishment for them, he was more and more anxious to

see them placed among the great.

His lady, equally attached to the fascinating influence of birth

and splendor, had neither inclination nor power to counteract his

designs, nor to dispute with him on a point to which her own wishes

tended. She was too partial, too fond of her children not to think

they were calculated to shine in the most exalted situations, and

that they deserved every blessing, every indulgence which rank of

fortune could bestow. She had married a man much older than herself,

and was happy; therefore she saw no reasonable objection in the

difference of age between her daughter and the Baron, whose birth

carried an irresistible passport to her heart.

Sir Philip had talked the matter over with her, and, with that

prevailing influence he had ever retained, brought her not only to

consent to any measures he should find necessary to adopt in order

to carry his point, but obtained a solemn promise from her to conceal

from Edwin, and every one else, the sanguine establishment of their

daughter.--The fact was, Sir Philip had at different periods of his

life received many favours, and some of a pecuniary nature, from the

Baron, which had never been settled, and had it not been for the

assistance of the Baron's purse, he must have deeply mortgaged his

estates to carry on the law-suit, which, without the interest of his

friend, would at last have terminated against him. It was in

consequence of their unexpected meeting in town that he prevailed

upon him, with some difficulty, to return with him to the castle.

What ensued was so much beyond the most flattering expectations he

had ever dared to cherish, that the feelings of the parent were

sacrificed to ambition, and he instantly determined to carry his point,

let the consequence be what it would; and, though he had observed, in

the whole of Roseline's behaviour to his friend, convincing proofs

of that dislike which she had in her interview with him avowed, yet

he did not despair of gaining his purpose: he was aware that he might

find some little opposition to his wishes, and therefore to guard as

cautiously as possible against disappointments, he had more than once

represented to the Baron the youth, inexperience, and extreme timidity,

of his daughter, and the terror she would feel at being separated from

a mother from whom she had never been absent.

By such wary precautions as these he had prevailed upon his friend

to postpone making any proposals to Roseline, till he had paved the

way for a welcome reception. To such a plan a lover could not make

any reasonable objection, particularly one who wished to have as little

trouble as possible in the gratification of his desires.--Too proud,

haughty, and fastidious, to pay his court, or make any sacrifice to

the wayward humours of a young beauty, he secretly rejoiced that her

father would take the whole upon himself; and, knowing how agreeable

the offered alliance was to him, he had no fears but as soon as the

young lady's consent was asked, she would be happy to comply; he

therefore looked forwards with less impatience than he would have

done, had any doubts rested upon his mind.

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