At length the happy day arrived which was appointed for the
celebration of these long expected nuptials. We presume that the
morning, to the world in general, was exactly like what other
mornings had been, and that the sun shone without any perceptible
brilliancy being added to its rays, except in the eyes of the now
happy lovers.
The company assembled in the breakfast-room, and for some time waited
for Roseline. She soon made her appearance, led by her beloved
Walter, who had stolen unobserved to the chamber-door of his
mistress, to chide her for so long delaying his happiness. On this
occasion he was splendidly attired, and the bride, elegantly but
simply dressed, wanted not the borrowed aid of ornament, but, arrayed
in maiden bashfulness and artless purity, appeared all native
loveliness.
As she received the congratulations of her friends, a tear, which
stole from her expressive eye as it trembled to escape, appeared to
spotless harbinger of gratified affection, struggling to conquer the
becoming fears of unaffected modesty.
As soon as breakfast was over, they were accompanied to the chapel of
the nunnery by a numerous train of friends and dependents. On their
arrival, they were met by the Lady Abbess, the venerable and worthy
Father Anselm, and almost all the inhabitants of the nunnery, who
were allowed to assemble in the chapel on this joyous occasion, while
every face wore the appearance of cheerfulness.
A select party went back with them to the castle, where all who chose
were permitted to partake of the happiness, and share in the social
satisfaction which universally prevailed.
Mutual congratulations and good wishes were exchanged. Sir Philip and
Lady de Morney, happy as they were in the completion of their
ambition, could not restrain the sigh of heart-felt regret at the
thoughts of soon being separated from their beloved daughter.
Roseline was some time before she recovered her usual serenity, till
Edeliza, on observing her shed a tear as she looked at her mother,
said to her, in a whisper,--"I cannot imagine, my dear sister, why
you should weep. I do not think I should be so dejected if I were
married to De Willows,--though he never said half so many fine things
to me as the young Baron has done to you."
Roseline, smiling, pressed the hand of her sister, and, returning
her whisper, assured her she was indeed the most enviable of her
sex:-- but (added she) it requires more fortitude than I possess to
support such happiness as mine with equanimity and composure; and
the natural regret I cannot help feeling at leaving this place, and
soon being separated from the best and tenderest of mothers, convinces
me that Providence never intended we should enjoy bliss without alloy."
The next day the party sat off in new and splendid carriages, attended
by a numerous retinue of servants, for the Baron's castle in the
North of England. Their grand cavalcade brought a number of people
to take a farewell look of the lovely bride, whose departure was
generally regretted; and she was followed by the good wishes of all
who ever had the pleasure of enjoying her society.
Sir Philip and Lady de Morney, her two sisters, De Willows,
De Clavering, and Hugh Camelford accompanied her. Audrey had likewise
the honour of attending her lady as fille de chambre, and never felt
herself of such infinite consequence as she did when handed into the
travelling carriage by the Baron's gentleman, who did her the honour
to assist in packing her up to the chin amidst the boxes and luggage
entrusted to her care.
The party travelled slowly and pleasantly, stopping to see every
thing on their route that was worthy observation; and, as they were
now in the humour to be easily pleased, they were consequently amused
and gratified with almost every thing they saw.--It is a kind of
humour so extremely convenient, that I hope we shall be excused for
recommending the adoption of it to travellers of all countries and
denominations,--good humour, and serenity of mind, being the best
companions at home, are equally eligible to carry with us when we
go abroad.
On their arrival at Fitzosbourne-castle, they received a considerable
increase to their happiness by meeting Edwin and Madeline in perfect
health and good spirits.--Sir Philip and Lady de Morney's cup of
joy was filled to the brim, when they found themselves folded in the
arms of their long absent children, for whole lives they had so often,
and indeed at this very moment inwardly trembled.
The happy bride of the exulting Walter felt such a torrent of added
felicity, on being folded in the arms of her brother and Madeline,
that she was very near fainting. Observing this, the Baron, to call
off their attention, desired them to permit him to come in for
some share of their embraces, and in his turn to welcome them to
Fitzosbourne-castle. This had the effect it was designed to produce,
and the cordial welcome every one received from the Baron gave
additional satisfaction to the hours thus marked with joy, happiness,
and love.
After they had taken some refreshment, Edwin surprised them all by
approaching the Baron, and in the most submissive manner begging him
to pardon the liberty he had taken in introducing a guest to the
castle, whom, as yet, he knew not of being there,--a guest old and
weak, but who was, he hoped, slowly recovering from an attack of
illness so severe, as to have threatened his life, and which, in all
probability, would have terminated his mortal existence, but for the
unremitting attention he received from the Baron's domestics.
"No apology is necessary upon such an occasion, (said the Baron.)
Had my people been wanting in care to any one who required their
assistance, I should have instantly dismissed them.--When may I be
introduced to your friend? (added he.)--I am impatient to assure him
that this house, and all that it contains, are much at his service."
"Pray, my dear Edwin, (said Lady de Morney,) who is the person for
whom you have ventured to tax the Baron's hospitality thus largely,
and for whom you appear so much interested?"
"The father of this lady, (replied he, taking the hand of Madeline,
and leading her to his mother.)--To her I will refer you for an
account of our meeting, and the revolution it has fortunately
produced in our favour.
Madeline was instantly called upon to gratify the curiosity of the
company, and, without any delay, informed them, that Edwin and
herself having one day agreed to take a ramble, they told the people
with whom they lodged that they should not return till the evening.
Disguising themselves more than usual, so as to avoid the possibility
of being discovered, they sat off; and, being tempted by the extreme
fineness of the day, wandered till they came to the great road which
led to a large town, not five miles distant.
"In fact, (said the blushing narrator,) my dear Edwin, was grown
weary of solitude, and wished perhaps to see more faces than those
which he met in the obscure little cottage to which we were confined."
Every one smiled,--Edwin looked confused,--and Madeline thus proceeded.
"We had not walked more than half a mile in the great road, before
the number of people we met, and the curiosity our strange appearance
excited, determined us to choose a more private walk; but, just as
we were going to turn into a lane which led to a neighbouring village,
our attention was caught, and our design prevented by a carriage
being overturned within a hundred paces of us.
"The horses, proving restive, had drawn it up a high bank, which
occasioned the accident. One of the servants, seeing Edwin, beckened
him, and begged him to assist in the lifting it up, and liberating
his master from his perilous situation. He immediately ran off,
telling me to sit down on the bank till his return.
"Thinking, however, that I might possibly be of some service, I walked
slowly forwards; but guess my terror, when, just as we arrived at
the carriage, they were dragging from it a man to all appearance dead.
"I instantly flew to lend my assistance; but no sooner did I
distinguish his person, than I was nearly as lifeless as himself.--It
was my father,--my father dying on the road! The sight, however
terrifying to my fears and torturing to my feelings, gave me strength,
and inspired me with fortitude to help in preserving the life of
the author of my being.
"I took an opportunity to inform my dear Edwin who it was that claimed
our care and attention. After chafing his temples, and rubbing his
emaciated hands, some faint signs of life reanimated our endeavours.
"We found, by the conversation of the servants, that their master
had been recommended to try what change of air and travelling might
do, as medicine had failed in removing a disease which had long
preyed upon his constitution, and which had been increased by some
domestic sorrow.
"Alas! of that sorrow I knew myself to be the cause, and the tears,
which I shed upon his almost lifeless hand, as I saw him extended at
my feet, atoned I hope, in some measure, for the grief I had inflicted.
"When life was more perfectly restored, we moved him upon a grass plat,
till the carriage and horses could be got ready.--He took no notice
of any one, and appeared to be totally insensible of the accident,
and of every thing around him.--This at once determined us to intrude
on the Baron's goodness, and convey him to this castle.
"Having dispatched a messenger for the best advice we could procure,
one of his attendants and myself accompanied him in the carriage.
His head rested on my bosom, but he knew me not, nor once attempted
to speak. On our arrival here, we found every thing prepared for our
reception, Edwin having taken one of the horses, and rode full speed
to inform the Baron's servants a sick gentleman was coming, for whom
he requested their care and assistance.
"My father was taken from the carriage, and instantly put to bed.
Two medical gentlemen very soon arrived, who, on examining the state
of their patient, from the violence of the contusion and the total
deprivation of sense in which they found him, seemed to think there
was a concussion of the brain. They assured us, however, that his
life would not be endangered by the accident, but said, they saw
he was far advanced in decline, from which they apprehended more
fatal consequences.
"We continued our disguise, and, as our real names were totally unknown
in this neighborhood, having passed for a Mr. and Mrs. Danbury, we
were under no apprehensions of being discovered, should my father
recover his senses. After remaining in the most painful state of
suspense many days, he began to take notice of those who attended
him, but made no inquiries after his own servants, how he came into
a strange place, or the accident which had befallen him. One day, as
I was sitting by him, and holding his head, which I had been rubbing
with vinegar, he looked earnestly at me.
"If I did not think, if I did not know it was impossible, (said he,
in hurried accents, looking first at me, and then at Edwin, who was
standing at the foot of the bed,) I should almost be tempted to
believe that the hand which has so gently given me relief was the
hand of Madeline de Glanville, and that face the face I once fondly
doated upon; but it cannot be!--I am a poor, wandering, old man, whose
eyes must be closed by strangers, and I deserve it should be so. I
once had a daughter, but I banished her my sight:--I had a son, but
he perhaps is no longer an inhabitant of this world."
Here he stopped, and burst into a violent flood of tears. By a sign
from Edwin I understood he wished me to take this favourable opportunity
of making the discovery, for which he knew I languished. Falling
therefore, on my knees, in the most supplicating attitude, and pressing
his hand to my lips, I exclaimed:
"I am your daughter,--your Madeline, and there is the amiable, the
beloved husband for whom I dared to disobey my father, and for whom
at this moment I stand a trembling victim to the just laws of my
country and my religion!"
The scene which followed it is not in my power to describe. Suffice
it to say, that, from that interesting period, my father has not
only been reconciled, but renovated with health and strength. He
frequently laments the obstinacy which reduced us to the necessity
of taking such steps to prevent our separation. He has written letters
to every one he knows that has any interest with the higher powers
of the church, but his hopes of success are rested upon Lord
Fitzosbourne, to whom he is impatient to pay his respects."
"This moment I am ready to attend him, (said the Baron:) the father
of Madeline is entitled to every attention that has, or can be
shewn him."
After his lordship's visit had been paid, the rest of the party
followed of course, and a general harmony prevailed. Mr. de Glanville
was instantly placed wholly under the care of De Clavering, and soon
obtained as perfect a state of convalescence as the nature of his
constitutional habits would admit.
Now again hospitality and festivity took their turn to reign, and
the happy and distinguished Walter, after languishing so many years
in misery and confinement, found himself in the situation for which
nature had designed him.
Restored to his rank in the bosom of affluence, and surrounded by
tender and admiring friends, he soon lost that timid shyness which
had once rendered averse to society, and discontented with the world.
United to the only woman he had ever loved, and possessed of domains
more extensive and fertile than those of many a petty prince, with
a mind calculated to promote the happiness of his fellow-creatures,
he was beloved by all, and envied by many.
In a few months a full and free pardon was procured for Edwin and
Madeline, and Mr. de Glanville, having recovered, contrary to the
expectation of every one, from the indisposition which threatened
him with death at the time his daughter escaped from the Bungay nunnery,
on being convinced she had made so respectable and worthy a choice,
gave her a considerable portion, and afterwards, having the fears
of his son's death realized, she inherited his whole estate. Edwin
also rose to high rank in the army, and was an honour to his country.
Edeliza was happily married in due time to her beloved De Willows,
and, about six years after, the worthy Hugh Camelford led the blooming
and unreluctant Bertha to the altar.--To these young men the Baron
uniformly remained a bountiful and steady patron, and Sir Philip and
Lady de Morney lived many years to be grateful and happy spectators
of the felicity and prosperity of their children.
The Baron and his son became so sincerely attached to De Clavering
during his visit at Fitzosbourne-castle, that, in compliance with
their urgent and repeated entreaties, he consented to remain in
their neighborhood.
He very soon afterwards married a lady of respectability and fortune,
and his practice became so extensive, and so much esteemed, that his
superior knowledge proved a general blessing, of which many hundreds
of this fellow-creatures in a few years experienced the benefit.
The Baron was highly delighted with the society of De Clavering, and
it was with the utmost reluctance he ever consented to his being
a day absent from the neighborhood.
It was the intention of the Baron, after he had seen his son fixed,
and his household properly established, to have resided in another
of his castles, about twenty miles distant, but neither Walter nor
Roseline would consent to the proposal.
They reminded the Baron of the long and cruel separation which had
divided him from his son in the early part of his life, and so earnestly
entreated him not to interrupt their happiness, by withdrawing himself
from their society, and refusing to reside with them, that, pleased
and gratified by the tenderness with which the request was mutually
urged, he yielded to their persuasions, and a proper suite of rooms,
with a large retinue of servants, were set apart for the immediate
use of the Baron.
He continued to live with them many years, without any interruption
to his happiness; and, in seeing the harmony and felicity they enjoyed,
surrounded by a number of lovely and healthy grand-children, he found,
amidst the increasing infirmities of old age, sufficient attractions
in life to make it pleasant and desirable, while the cordial affection
and exemplary conduct of his son, joined to the endearing attentions
of the gentle and beloved Roseline, made him remember with joy and
gratitude the day in which he saw their hands united.
Albert never left his beloved master, but was as faithfully attached
to his children as he had been to himself. He had apartments
appropriated to his use, a servant to attend him, and met, in the
kind and unceasing attentions of his grateful friends, the just reward
of his long tried fidelity.
Often, in the dreary winter evenings, having drawn all the younger
part of the family around him, he would recite the incidents of his
life from the period of his confinement with Walter. To the young
Fitzosbournes it was a high treat to hear Albert tell the tale of
their beloved father's life.
Sometimes he would excite their wonder, and entertain them with the
surprising effect of his double voice; and, when he became a very
old man, he was as much beloved for what he had been, as he was
respected for his age, grey hairs, and universal philanthropy.
Though many overtures were made by the worthless brother of the
Lady Isabella to bring about a reconciliation, neither the Baron nor
his son could ever be prevailed upon to see him, and it was with some
difficulty the former was persuaded to give up bringing him to justice
for the crime he had committed.
The good abbess and the venerable father Anselm had the pleasure of
seeing their favourite Madeline as happy in the arms of her worthy
husband, as they had hoped she would have been in the bosom of their
church. Walter and his Roseline paid them many visits before they
were removed from their exemplary calling on earth to receive the
reward of their purity and virtue in the regions of immortality.
The hero and heroine of our tale retained the virtues of their
youth, the gentleness of their manners, and the sweetness of their
dispositions to the end of their lives; and, what may be thought rare
and singular, they never lost their humility, tenderness, and unbounded
affection for each other; but when age, that grave of beauty, had robbed
them of those outward graces, which nature with an unsparing hand
had bestowed upon their youth, love maintained its empire in their
faithful bosoms, and survived every change, till death summoned them
to meet the bright and unfailing recompense of a life spent in the
practice of religion, justice, and virtue.