Strange it might seem—that George, this afternoon,
Should recollect—’though thirteen years had flown—
He had, secreted, at his own command
A ready answer to the lord’s demand,—
Yet so it was; and where the secret lay
He interposed and brought it prone to day:
Thus thought the man; and now unto his eyes
An artificial medium he applies,—
Compares the image[184] which should be the test,
And which would rob or give his temples rest:
“Ah! (he exclaim’d) it is, it is the same;”
And having thus discern’d his honor’d name,
Return’d with joy and, smiling, said “Dear Sir,
Thou art the late Lord Mountjoy’s son ’tis clear:
And now, (said Hollybrand, whilst in the act
Of holding forth and pointing to the fact)
This truth unquestionably doth impel
The answer I now give: God speed thee well—
O Arnold, friend indeed!” (with scarce control
O’er the emotions of his manly soul.)—
And thus—with falt’ring speech, and quite unnerv’d,
“I give my bond, for thou hast well deserv’d
My dearest child, for thy integrity—
Thy gentleness—and generosity.”
“Well, Hollybrand, I’m glad your mind’s at ease,”
Said Arnold Mountjoy, “for thy daughter’s is,—
In thy brief absence she has thrice confess’d
The silent promptings of her youthful breast:
Henceforth our lives must interwoven be,
And this the dawn of thy prosperity.”
(Now the adventure, thus concisely told;
Nor less concise and pleasant, as so bold;
Provided—that within a month, or two,
The “cottage queen” should with her lover go
To Rollingate; and there, God willing it,
Domesticated at his noble seat,
She should be educated, and prepare
To share the duties of the “lordly heir.”
Till then Lord Arnold thought it ill-advis’d
The marriage contract should be solemniz’d;—
“I’ve friends,” said he, “who then I must invite—
Whose presence our good manners must requite:”
And twelve months hence he felt convinc’d dear Jane
Would those accomplishments of life attain:
Twelve other months, besides, George then shall see
His virgin daughter at the altar, free—
Free as the zephyrs which combine the air,—
For he had sworn he’d never trespass there,
Or jeopardize her sovereign right to be
The wife of him who wins her lawfully.)
To this,[185] like as a harp without the hand,
Stood speechless unpretending Hollybrand;
And, waiting ’til the impulse bade him speak,
Diverts a tear from his imbrownèd cheek;
Then he, in language not inapt, begun:
“Thy father, Arnold, must have loved his son!”—
But as his heart had urged him thus to say
His tongue grew pow’rless and refused t’obey.
[184] A portion of a letter, which bore the impression of the seal of the
late Lord Mountjoy, and which old Squire Prew had (on the occasion of one
of his visits) left at the cottage.
[185] The preceding sentence—“And this the dawn of thy prosperity.”