"You cannot but recollect, my lord, (addressing himself to the Baron,)
that, when you married the Lady Blanch, I came into your family. I had
been brought up in her father's house, and from a boy was appointed to
attend her person, no one being allowed to command or employ me without
her permission. When all preliminaries were settled for your marriage
with my lady, I was informed that I was still to have the honour of
attending her; a favour so great, and voluntarily conferred, rendered me
not a little vain. You soon after married, and I became a resident in
your family: my lady still distinguishing me with her approbation, made
me grateful and happy, and, though I was frequently reproached by my
fellow-servants, with ill-humour and acrimony, for being so great a
favourite, I endeavoured all in my power to convince them, I wished not
to deprive them of any advantages they had enjoyed before I came among
them, and this in a little time made them more reconciled and obliging.
My dear young master was then in his infancy, and my place not being one
of the busiest, I had many hours of leisure, which I was allowed to
dispose of as suited my inclination: these hours I chiefly spent in the
nursery, and, being remarkably fond of children, I soon became so
strongly attached to the young lord, that I often regretted the
necessity of leaving him, which I was sometimes obliged to do for weeks
and months together, either when your lordship took my lady to town,
paid visits to your friends, or went to any other of your estates; and
once, if you recollect, you were absent a long time, when you carried my
lady to Montpellier, whose declining health led you to adopt this plan
for her recovery, which the physicians said would perfectly restore that
bloom a slow and nervous fever had stolen from her, and alarmed every
friend who saw the ravages sickness had made in a countenance formed to
captivate.--Ah! that unfortunate excursion!--I have wished with an
aching heart a thousand and a thousand times it had never been made.
During our absence my lady lost her fever, and gave birth to a son, who
very soon engrossed so much of her time and affection, that your
lordship had just reason to complain of the change it produced. There
was another change which you did not so soon discover.
During our residence among a parcel of jabbering foreigners, my lady
learned to despise the blessed manners and customs of her native
country, and all those feelings which once made her so charming. We must
eat, drink, sleep, dress, and do every thing after the French fashion. I
was often reproved for retaining more than any of my fellow-servants my
clumsy English manners. She frequently expressed her satisfaction that
her son first saw the light on the Gallic shore, where, if she could
have persuaded your lordship, she would have continued to reside.
After an absence of eighteen months, which appeared to me the length of
as many years, we returned to England, and found my young lord just
recovered from the small-pox, of a very bad sort, which had so much
altered him, that my lady believed, or rather affected to believe, that
your son had been changed during our absence, or that he might have
died, and some designing artful people had imposed their own offspring
upon you, to usurp his rights, and rob her little darling of his title
and estate. The boy she found in your castle could not be the sweet
creature she left:--_he_ was beautiful and finely formed;--_this_ was
ugly to a degree, robust, clumsy, and half an ideot.
I know not what arts were used to make your lordship give any credit to
so fallacious and improbable a tale; but I observed, with unfeigned
regret, from that time your affection was continually decreasing, till
at last your son was seldom admitted to your presence, and never
indulged with those fond caresses which, previous to your departure from
England, were frequently and tenderly repeated. He was generally
dismissed with the epithets of beggar's brat, foundling, and ideot."
"I feel deep contrition for yielding belief to such infernal tales,
(said the Baron,)--for being so long the dupe and tool of a designing
malicious woman, and neglecting the son of the most amiable and best of
wives. Ah! my Isabella! if you are permitted to look down on this lower
world,--if you are acquainted with the conduct of him to whom you
entrusted your virgin-heart, and made the chosen lord of your destiny,
how must you despise and detest the mean, the forgetful wretch, who
deserted the sacred, the precious charge you so tenderly committed to
his care! May my future penitence atone for the cruelty of my past
conduct, and my sainted Isabella intercede with her Creator for pardon
and forgiveness! Then may Fitzosbourne hope her spirit will in the grave
find a place of rest. No wonder my crimes have robbed her even of that
asylum."
The tears of remorse stole down the Baron's cheeks, and he gave Walter a
look of tender regret, that said as much as volumes could have done.
"I know to what your lordship alludes, (said Walter,) and I am happy
that it is in my power to remove a tormenting delusion from your mind,
which, all circumstances considered, I cannot be surprised, made so
forcible an impression on it. The striking likeness which I bear to my
ever-regretted mother had often been remarked to me by Albert, and was
undoubtedly designed to be the means of restoring me a father.
Every one being impatient to hear the remainder of the prisoner's story,
the explanation was deferred, and Albert went on.
"Before my young lord had recovered his former complexion, or his
features began to reassume some traits of what they had been, till
attacked and disguised by that baneful distemper, so often the grave of
beauty,--the enemy of love, I was one day summoned into my lady's
dressing-room. After desiring me to shut the door, and take care our
conversation was not overheard, she bade me sit down; I obeyed
reluctantly, as I never before had been allowed the honour of sitting in
her presence. She then inquired if I were in reality as much attached to
her as I had frequently pretended to be, and whether, if she should have
occasion to place a confidence in me, and require my assistance, she
might trust to my fidelity?
"As to your life, my good Albert, (cried her ladyship, rising, and
putting her purse and picture into my hand, which she compelled me to
take,) I hope that will long be preserved to do me service. The request
I shall make will neither involve you in difficulties not danger; and if
you faithfully perform what will be asked of you, rely upon my word, it
will not only free you from labour and servitude, but be a certain means
of procuring you a comfortable independence for the rest of your
life,--an income that will enable you to marry the woman you love, with
whom you may live to see yourself surrounded with a numerous offspring.
(The picture was drawn in the most flattering colours,--the back ground
was no quite so pleasing.)--But you must, to obtain my good opinion, and
secure to yourself those enviable comforts, (continued her ladyship,)
unconditionally and without knowing the nature of the service required
of you, take a solemn and sacred oath never to betray, by thought, word
or deed, the confidence reposed in you. I will give you three days to
consider of my proposal, and at the end of that time shall expect your
answer."
"I was now ordered to withdraw, which I immediately did, in a state of
mind not to be imagined. What could my lady mean?--what was the business
in which I was to be employed that demanded the solemn prelude of an
oath? Oaths were sacred things; they were not to be trifled with, and
were thought necessary only on the most important occasions. I next
recollected that I had known my lady from a child: she had ever been my
friend, had frequently given me good advice, and was religious,
generous, and charitable. It could not therefore be any wicked or unjust
action she wanted me to accomplish; _that_ was contrary to her nature.
What then had I to fear from taking an oath which could do no one any
harm, and might make my fortune? Independence was promised me. I was
young, sanguine, and aspiring, yet I had never dared to hope being
placed in a situation above that I at present enjoyed. The lure was
thrown out by a hand I could not resist, and I was caught by the
tempting bait, which I swallowed to the destruction of my own peace."
"But, by your fortunately having done so, (exclaimed Walter,) my life
was repeatedly preserved to enjoy the present moment of exquisite
happiness and soul-enlivening hope."--He fixed his eyes tenderly on the
blushing Roseline, as he uttered this affecting exclamation.
"When the appointed time was expired, (continued Albert,) I was admitted
to a second conference with my lady, and without making any terms,
being, as I thought, well assured I might safely rely on her virtue and
rectitude as trust to her generosity, I took the oath, which was tended
to me by father Paul, her confessor and domestic chaplain, to obey such
orders as were given me with secresy and fidelity, for which I was to
receive in quarterly payments eighty pounds a year, and to have clothes,
board, and every other necessary, allowed me.--Father Paul bore the
character of a just and pious man; therefore, had I retained any
reluctance, receiving the oath from so sacred and important a personage
would have rendered any doubts an unpardonable offence against our holy
church. In compliance with my earnest request to be informed what was
expected to be done by me, and when I was to enter on my task, father
Paul himself, after some little hesitation, opened the business.
"Her ladyship (he said) was convinced, and he was of the same opinion,
that the child, (meaning my young lord,) which passed for the son of the
worthy and unsuspicious Baron, was in all probability the spurious
offspring of some low-born peasant, the fruit of an illicit and illegal
amour, imposed upon the noble family, for base and artful purposes, by
some designing wretch, after the death of the lawful heir, which, by
some very wonderful means, has so far been brought to light as to
confirm the fact. This child was so totally different from that left in
England, it could not possibly be the same. He was beautiful, sensible,
lively, and active; this was an ugly brat, dull, and stupid, and as much
the child of King Solomon as of the Baron.--It was become necessary for
the honour and comfort of the family to send it away: it was to be
removed into some distant and healthy country for change of air, and
placed with a country woman to be nursed. After he had been absent a few
months, I was to withdraw myself from the Baron's service, take the boy
from his ignorant nurse, and accompany him to whatever place I should be
directed. Till he came to a certain age, I was to have the occasional
assistance of a female in rearing him up, and was desired to do all I
could for the poor stupid creature, who, to be sure, in the eyes of
impartial justice, had not yet been guilty of a crime; but, to prevent
his being so, by monopolizing the rights of another, this plan was
adopted.
"I was next commanded never to presume to give the most distant hint
either to himself or any one else, that he had ever been suspected, or
even thought of consequence,--never to mention the name of Fitzosbourne
to him, or to say that he or myself had resided in the family. When he
arrived at the age of fifteen, I might, if I were so inclined, give up
my task, and should have proper security for receiving my salary during
the rest of my life, even if the boy should luckily die before the age
fixed upon to release me from my engagements. If I chose the trouble, I
might teach him to read and write; but it was a matter of little
consequence:--the less such people knew, the better.--ignorance to them
was happiness, and knowledge only a burthen, of which it was better not
to be possessed.
"I had been unwarily drawn into the snare from which I now wanted
judgement, courage, resolution, to disentangle myself. The influence and
unbounded power my lady ever held over me,--her consequence, and my
humble station, arose to my terrified imagination, and I dared not
venture to expostulate against a plan sanctioned by the Lady Blanch, and
approved by father Paul, with whom it was equally dangerous to contend.
"Of the identity of the young lord I never cherished a doubt; and, if I
had, the restoration of his sweet features to their former beauty and
expression, which was now beginning to take place, would have banished
them as soon as they arose; yet the fear of offending kept me silent:
the oath I had taken hung over me with terror;--every struggle I made
with conscience was over-ruled by worldly motives. I would not be
perjured, but I consented to be ten times worse. Alas! I little
suspected, when I took that sacred, yet unhallowed oath, that I was
sentencing myself and a helpless innocent to years of hopeless
imprisonment,--to a kind of living death, and burthening my conscience
with the heavy crime of being the vile agent in assisting to rob the
best, the most amiable of all God's creatures of his title, a noble
estate, and even of that freedom which the poorest of his father's
vassals enjoyed."
"Dear Albert, (cried Walter,) do not abuse yourself so unjustly:
represent not your actions in colours that do not belong to them. If I
suffered, you did the same; the barbarous hands which robbed me of
liberty, and the all-cheering light of heaven, deprived you also of
your's. Had it not been for your unremitting and watchful care, your
more than parental tenderness, I had long ere now been numbered with the
dead, and my existence and injuries lost in eternal oblivion."
"My noble boy, (exclaimed the Baron,) there spoke the soul of your
angelic mother! Just so would she have shewn her grateful sense of
benefits received.--Go on, my friend, regard not the feelings you
excite; they are due to the sufferings of this injured youth, and to the
virtues of his generous guardian and protector."
Albert proceeded.--"A plan so deeply laid and artfully contrived,
supported by such authority and power, succeeded but too well. I was, in
due time, form, and order, dismissed from your lordship's castle, and
very soon the precious charge was delivered into the hands of the
villain who had been aiding and abetting his ruin; but the degrading,
self-reproving feelings, the horrid conflicts I endured, in the moment
when the innocent victim ran joyfully into the arms of the Judas who had
betrayed him, shouting, jumping, and skipping with pleasure, to think I
was come to live with him, and be his nurse, were such as I would not
have encountered for ten thousand worlds, could I have foretold the
scorpion stings with which I found them armed at all points. It was
judged necessary that we should speedily remove from the house of the
poor, ignorant woman to whom my young lord had been entrusted, and under
whose fostering and maternal care he had entirely recovered his looks,
and found more happiness than in the habitation of greatness. I took
care she should not go unrewarded for her kindness, and received at the
expected time my instructions for our removal.
"After a long and tiresome journey, we arrived at an old ruinated
castle, on the boarders of ----, and there I found a woman, who was
appointed to assist me in the care of my important charge. We had a
small, gloomy, and inconvenient apartment appropriated to our use; our
table was tolerably well supplied: we had plenty of what the country
afforded, were never denied any addition I requested should be made to
our wardrobe, and at times books and toys were sent unsolicited; my
salary was likewise punctually remitted me.
"Here we lingered away some time, and were afterwards removed to two
places before we were brought hither, owing I suppose to some
circumstance that rendered our removal necessary, for the better
secreting of our persons. Long before the time expired in which my
engagement was to end, and I should be authorised to demand my freedom
and continued award, I found myself so strongly attached to my young
lord, felt such pity for his situation, and such corroding regret at
having lent my assistance to his cruel prosecutors, I could not support
the most distant idea of forsaking him, and would have suffered torture
rather than have left him in a state so desolate and unprotected.
"I hinted in my letters, that, if any attempts were made to separate me
from my beloved charge, I should consider the oath which had hitherto
kept me faithful to their secret as no longer binding. I heard by
chance of the death of Lady Blanch, but never till very lately that she
had lost her son. I for some months cherished hopes that her death would
procure our liberty, and release me from my oath, but I was soon given
to understand, that to her brother she had discovered the secret; that,
in future, our remittances were to be sent by his order, and we were to
be guided by his direction.
Finding things thus settled and arranged, after we had lived so many
years in confinement, I concluded that the whole plan had been contrived
and executed with your lordship's consent, and no longer doubted but it
was your wish that the son of the Lady Blanch should inherit your titles
and estates."
"Good God! (exclaimed the Baron,) how awful and mysterious are they
dealings with us erring mortals! I was told, and supposed the tale was
true, that my poor boy died suddenly, in a few months after he was sent
from the castle, on the pretence that change of air was necessary. I
gave orders for his interment in our family-vault, went into mourning,
and knew not till this ever blessed day that a son of mine
existed.--Unhappy, mistaken, guilty Blanch!--the untimely fate of thy
darling boy is now fully and solemnly accounted for! It was doubtless
the just judgement of heaven for thy unpardonable crimes in depriving
the son of my Isabella first of his father's love, and then of his
protection. The agonies of thy dying moments are now explained: they
were the direful effects of unavailing contrition; for, when thou
wouldst have relieved thy mind of its heavy burthen, speech was denied
thee: I hope thy anguish, in those moments of terror, have in part
atoned for they unheard of cruelty.
"Father Paul has found a shelter in the grave from my resentment; but
the man, I will not call him brother, who must have been tempted to take
an active part in this iniquitous business, in the hopes of obtaining
some of my fortune for his children, still lives to feel my anger. What
could induce one of his exalted rank to persecute and rob the innocent,
if from his sufferings and seclusion he had not expected to reap
considerable benefit!"
"Perhaps the fear of punishment and exposure might prompt them to
continue the deception, (said Albert;) what occasioned our removal to
this castle I could never learn; it was sudden, and conducted with
secresy and caution, for we were guarded as if we had been prisoners of
state, owing, I presume, to some attack being made, or meditated,
against the castle we left; but, whatever was the cause, we had reason
to be thankful for the change it produced, as we had more liberty, and
better accommodation, than we had experienced in any other prison."
"I shall ever reproach myself, (said Sir Philip,) for having been led
into an act of such unpardonable oppression, for which I can never stand
excused to my own heart. I trusted too implicitly to the account which
was given me, not doubting the honour or veracity of the parties
concerned. I must now entreat, the worthy narrator would proceed with
his story, for I own I am very impatient to know how the son of my
friend obtained an introduction to my daughter."
"I trust, my father and indulgent friends will excuse my absence, (said
Roseline,) during a recital, that, in my present agitated state of mind,
would be too much for me to support."
"No, no, no!" was echoed from every part of the room. Walter, rising,
and seating himself by the side of Roseline, whispered something in her
ear that instantly reconciled her to a compliance with the general
request of the company.
Albert then proceeded, and gave an account of their first interesting
interview, and of the dangerous state to which long confinement and a
slow fever had reduced his master. He dwelt with delight on the tender
attentions of the charming Roseline to the poor, forlorn, helpless, and
dying prisoner; described her unremitting care, and mentioned with what
joy he marked their growing affection, which was soon visible to all the
parties but those most interested.--The friendship of Edwin was not
forgotten, nor were the polite and sisterly attentions of the gentle
Madeline passed over in silence. Nothing was omitted in the narrative
but the Baron's fright in the subterranean passage, and that for reasons
which will hereafter appear, he dared not venture to explain.
"Your alarm, my lord, (continued Albert,) on the night the ball was
given by Sir Philip de Morney, and which occasioned so much bustle and
confusion, originated from a cause more natural than you, misled by
terror, could suppose. To explain things in their proper order, we must
go back to the day previous to that of the ball.
"Miss De Morney and her brother had informed my master of what was
intended; in consequence of this intelligence, he became more restless
and wretched than I had ever seen him, and felt the miseries of his
situation so severely, that I trembled for the consequence so irritable
a state of mind might produce on a constitution sufficiently injured
already by the unsparing rigours of oppression and confinement. I
therefore, without giving him a hint of my intention, formed a plan in
my own mind to relieve his sufferings, little suspecting the surprising
and happy effects of which it would be productive, or once supposing,
that, in his successful rival, I should see Baron Fitzosbourne.--Never
was I so puzzled as in the moment I made that discovery, to conceal the
feelings by which it was attended, from giving any alarm to those which
had already harassed and half destroyed my dear master.
Without much difficulty I prevailed on Mr. De Morney to procure me two
female dresses, telling him for what purpose they were intended. He was
a first astonished at the singularity of my request; but, finding no ill
consequences likely to attend it, readily complied, and with the
assistance of his sister the matter was easily accomplished.
"We helped each other in putting on female attire as well as we could,
and took as much care as possible to make such an appearance as was not
likely to attract attention. At the time appointed we sallied forth in
our female habiliments, slipped through some of the forsaken apartments,
and joined without any suspicion a vast number of people who had
obtained permission to witness the festival, and see the company dance.
"The eyes of my young lord were feasted by beholding the beloved object
who engrossed his every thought, and constituted his every wish, exhibit
her elegant person in the mazy windings of the dance, which till now he
had never seen. With a kind of saddened delight, he was soon convinced,
that, though her person was engaged, her heart appeared to have no share
in the pleasure which was legibly depicted on the countenance of her
youthful companions; but, on that which his eyes alone delighted to
mark, he saw a silent uncomplaining sadness, which, at the time it
wounded, cheered and revived his soul with the sweet hope that, had he
been present, had he been her envied partner, no sadness had clouded her
brow,--no regret found entrance to her bosom.
"She frequently withdrew her eyes from the company to fix them on the
humble crowd, in which she concluded her lover was numbered. He likewise
felt his spirits relieved by the coldness and indifference with which he
saw she received every flattering attention that was paid her.--When he
had sufficiently satisfied his curiosity, and I observed he was weary of
being incommoded by the number of people which continued to increase, I
whispered him that I thought it time to retire, while the coast was
clear, and we could steal away undiscovered.
"He desired me to go first, saying he would follow me in a few moments.
I instantly obeyed. My master, by taking a wrong turn, was passing
through your lordship's bedchamber as you entered it. He saw it was his
rival, and, in the instantaneous indignation of the moment, forgot every
thing but he resentment which was rankling in his bosom.--You perceived
him,--looked alarmed, and trembled: he frowned, and shook his head,
while the face on which you gazed with terror was flushed with passion.
"On seeing you fall, unable to account for the cause, and fearful of
being discovered, he hurried out of the room, and hastened to inform me
of what had happened.--Hearing a vast bustle, I instantly disrobed my
master of his female attire, having already gotten rid of my own
disguise?--I was next day informed by Mr. De Morney that your lordship
had been alarmed by something in your own room, and was much indisposed.
I soon collected sufficient proof to be assured that it was the
appearance of your son which had occasioned this confusion, and imparted
enough of my sentiments to make myself understood. From that moment,
having no alternative, no other method to adopt, in order to bring about
a discovery, we agreed to enter the chapel, and these gentlemen, at the
request of their friend, hesitated not to be of the party."
To confirm more fully, and to remove every doubt from the mind of the
Baron, Albert produced many of the clothes and trinkets which had been
sent by the Lady Blanch. The mark of a bunch of currants on the arm of
Walter, with which he was born, and which had been occasioned by one of
nature's strongest freaks, was perfectly recollected by the Baron, and
was a fact not to be controverted.
So many corroborating and convincing testimonies of his identity would
have banished doubt, had any doubt remained; but truth and nature were
too prevailing to be disputed; the countenance of Walter was,
unsupported with farther evidence, sufficient to prove him the son of
the Lady Isabella.
This narrative contained so many interesting circumstances, cold and
unfeeling must have been the heart which could have heard it with
disbelief or indifference: no such heart was enshrined in the bosom of
the delighted audience; every eye readily paid the tribute of a tear.
The conduct of Roseline and her brother was generally applauded and
admired; all were eager to praise, and De Clavering slily observed,
that, if any young lady should fall in his way who had a mind to study
the use of herbs, he should conclude she had something more in her head
than a wish to learn physic or botany.
"Perhaps 'tis a sign of luf, (said Camelford,) when people pegin to
study potany, and that is the reason De Willows thinks so much apout it
himself; for I heard him in his sleep call out, that he must die, unless
some palm could be tiscovered to heal the wound in his heart, which was
as pig as a parn door."
De Willows called him an incorrigible miscreant for betraying the
secrets he pilfered from his friend, and vowed to be revenged in his own
way. This little sally gave an enlivening turn to the conversation, but
it was not possible that a party, circumstanced as the present, should
be able to converse on any subject but that in which every heart was
interested: it had even bereaved father Anselm and the abbess of many
tears.
Sir Philip de Morney avowed that the gentle and benevolent virtues of
his children made him blush at the failure of them in himself. The Baron
still shed tears, but they were tears more calculated to provoke envy
than excite compassion. He embraced his son again and again, led him to
Roseline, and entreated she would make the youth her captive for life,
and bestow on him the only treasure which could reward him for his long
confinement and uncomplaining fortitude. He called upon Sir Philip to
accept him for a brother instead of a son, saying, as he should now
certainly never think of marrying again, the settlements, with a few
alterations, might stand as they did. This proposal was too agreeable to
meet with any opposition. Upon Albert the Baron proposed settling an
annuity that would enable him to live in a stile equal to that of the
most respectable country gentleman; but this good man instantly declined
accepting the generous offer, declaring, that if they compelled him to
leave his dear young lord, and deprived him of the pleasure of attending
him, life would lose its value, and he should pine away the remainder of
his days in discontent and misery, though he were possessed of the most
unbounded affluence.
"And I, (said Walter,) though blessed with my gentle and lovely
Roseline, should appear despicable in her eyes, and contemptible in my
own, could I ever consent that my preserver, friend, and preceptor,
should live under any roof but mine. I hope and trust he will permit me
to repay to his declining age the mighty debt I owe him for his tender
care, his unceasing attentions to my helpless and persecuted youth."
Albert burst into tears, and, suddenly throwing himself at the feet of
Walter, found, in the eager and cordial embrace with which he raised
him, an ample reward for his long tried fidelity.
Edeliza, Bertha, and their youthful companions, were no longer able to
confine their joy in silence. Bertha crept to the side of Walter, and
looked at him with an expression of countenance so good humoured and
arch, that he took her on his knee, and inquired if she would give him
leave to be her brother.
"That I will! (said she.)--You are so tall and handsome, and by seeing
you I have found why my sister Roseline shed so many tears, had so many
fainting fits, and went about without singing the pretty songs she used
to do;--it was all owing to you;--therefore you must be very good, and
very entertaining, to make her love you better than she does Edeliza,
brother Edwin, or myself."
Lady de Morney, father Anselm, the abbess, Madeline, and Agnes de
Clifford, were severally introduced. The abbess, as she expressed her
approbation of her niece's lover, told her sister that she saw in this
animated and expressive countenance a likeness of her regretted Henry.
De Clavering and the rest were not silent. Never can there be found a
happier party than were at that time assembled in Bungay-castle. The
gloom, which had so long enveloped them, disappeared with every
threatening cloud, and was succeeded by the brightest sunshine. Various
reports were in rapid circulation respecting the circumstances which had
so wonderfully concurred to promote and secure the happiness of Walter
and Roseline; and, while some were pitying, others blaming the bride
that should have been, the parties themselves were congratulating each
other on account of that very disappointment which had been productive
of joy as great as it was unexpected.
Roseline, eager to disrobe herself of her bridal ornaments, which, in
spite of herself, carried her reflections back to the agonizing
conflicts she had endured when putting them on, retired with her young
friends, and then in the fulness of heart, as she embraced them with
delight, unmixed with self-reproach or doubt, informed them of her long
and tender attachment to the poor, helpless, and unknown prisoner.
Edeliza declared he was almost as handsome as De Willows. "But not half
so merry and good humoured as Mr. Camelford, (said Bertha;) but I will
try to make him romp with me, and then perhaps I shall like him as well."
Roseline smiled with complacency at her sister's artless observations,
in which she read the sentiments of hearts which had not yet learned the
art of concealing what they felt, and which already yielded to the
influence of the same blind god who had conducted her through such
varying scenes of hope, despair, and misery, to a prospect of the most
enviable happiness.
The whole company were invited to spend the remainder of the day at the
Castle, notwithstanding the purpose for which they came had been
defeated. Father Anselm, who, though a very pious and rigid Catholic,
had no objection to good living, very readily accepted the invitation.
The doors of the Castle were ordered to be thrown open; every one that
chose was permitted to partake of the hospitality and good cheer, and,
though the company were disappointed of being at a wedding, it would
have been impossible for an indifferent spectator to imagine any matter
of such consequence could have happened, as mirth, pleasure, and
satisfaction, revelled in every eye, and every countenance was drest in
the serene and placid smiles of joy and contentment.
Roseline was closeted half an hour with her mother and aunt; she
received their congratulations and caresses with that pure delight which
ever attends the heart when duty and affection are united. Lady de
Morney could not withhold her praises; yet once or twice gently adverted
to the dangers which might have arisen from the duplicity of her conduct
in concealing an attachment of so much importance to her future peace,
had not the holy virgin condescended to watch and guard her. The abbess
bestowed her most pious benediction on her lovely niece, who, she
pronounced, had acted under the influence of her guardian saint, and was
entitled to the ample reward which appeared to wait her acceptance.