I know it well, my Lord--and sure the match
Were rich and honourable. Besides, the gentleman
Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities,
Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter.
Cannot your Grace win her to fancy him?"
TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.
A constant round of dinner parties in quick succession was briskly kept
up between d'Aremberg palace and Tyrconnel house. The anxiety of the
dowager duchess for the union of her son with the Lady Adelaide was
exceedingly great, and unremitting were her attentions and exertions for
its accomplishment.
"She would, upon that event," she often declared, "contentedly depart
from life, resigned in peace, when once her aged eyes had beheld what
her soul had so often longed for, the union of an only son with the
lovely and transcendently accomplished daughter of the dear and early
friend of her youth." And the fact was, that the Duke and Duchess of
Tyrconnel were equally as anxious in their wishes for the union of their
daughter with the Duke d'Aremberg, as his noble and venerable mother,
looking upon the marriage as "a consummation devoutly to be wished!"
One morning, at an early hour, the Duchess d'Aremberg despatched a note
to Lady Adelaide, requesting that she would favour her godmother with a
visit, so soon as might prove convenient, at the conclusion of
breakfast, to the Lady Adelaide. "She was desirous," as her Grace
expressed herself, to speak to her dear god-child upon a subject which
was important to her happiness. She requested, therefore, that so soon
as it might prove convenient Lady Adelaide would have the goodness to
call upon her old friend and godmother."
An answer acquiescive to the above request was returned, and at the
appointed time Adelaide waited upon the Duchess d'Aremberg, whom she
found seated on a low settee, that which, now varying in shape and
elevation, is in our modern days 'yclept a sofa. Before her Grace was
placed a small walnut spider-table. Her occupation was knitting a silk
purse: for even with the assistance of spectacles, she found it
difficult to read. At her feet reposed upon a velvet cushion her blind
and favourite lapdog Fidelle, who, hearing a stranger's steps to enter
the chamber, awoke from her slumbers, and saluted Adelaide with a volley
of barking, as loudly as age and infirmities permitted.
"Welcome, my dear Adelaide, my dearest god-child, whom I now gladly
embrace; and happy, too happy should I be to call thee by yet still a
dearer name than god-child: I would like to hear thee called daughter
and my son's duchess, while I the world forgetting, shall long by the
world be forgot. Yes, my dearest child, I fain would call thee by the
still fonder name of daughter, the wife of my beloved son, who from the
first moment in which he beheld thee, my dear Adelaide, could no longer
call his heart his own!"
Adelaide felt dreadfully embarrassed. She reddened, and blushed up to
the very eyes; and indeed some time had elapsed before she could muster
up resolution enough to speak her sentiments.
As soon as she recovered her presence of mind, she replied: "How deeply
grateful to the duchess she felt for her numerous attentions and
kindnesses, and above all for the high honour which her Grace had
intended for her, but which she must most gratefully, respectfully, but
yet most decidedly, decline. She could never--she would never, give her
hand, without at the same time that it was in her power to bestow her
heart, and that she candidly acknowledged it was not now in her power to
give."
The duchess again, however, ineffectually renewed her solicitations, yet
with no more success than before, and concluded, as she thought, with
the unanswerable climax of her appeal: "Oh, think, my dearest Adelaide,
how very agreeable the union would prove to the wishes and desires of
the Duke and Duchess of Tyrconnel, which so fully respond to my own!"
Adelaide, as soon as an opportunity presented, promptly availed herself
of it, arose, bade the duchess farewell, and departed homeward.
Upon her return she was met by her father, who conducted her into his
library, and addressed her thus:--
"D'Aremberg has been here this morning while you were absent, my love,
with his mother, and he has made a proposition to us that has met with
decided approbation from both your mother and from me. The duke has
offered you his hand, and places his coronet and estates, which are
princely, Adelaide, at your feet! He is in every respect worthy of you,
descended as he is from a brave and noble race of ancestry, from which
indeed he has not degenerated. Young, valiant, generous, and noble--and
although bred in the camp, yet is his mind stored with the learning of
ancient Greece and Rome; he is an adept in modern languages; and as to
his personal accomplishments and appearance, fame hath bruited it afar,
that fair ladies fully feel their force wherever d'Aremberg presents
himself. What says my Adelaide to this proposal?"
"Often and often, my dear father, have I heard you, and my mother
likewise, say, 'let no young woman ever give her hand in holy wedlock
who cannot also give her heart; if she gives her hand unaccompanied with
her heart, from that moment let her date the commencement of a wretched
life.' Now, dearest father, I cannot give my heart to the duke, and
therefore I consider that it would be dishonourable in me to give my
hand alone! I know well that it may be urged against me what and how
much I relinquish by this refusal--the elevated rank of a duchess, a
splendid fortune, and all the _accessoires_ of high rank. Yes, I abandon
all these, most willingly relinquish them all!"
"Ay, sage Adelaide," severely said the duke, "_all_ for a stranger!"
"Not so, my dear father! the Bruce is no stranger. His rank?--he who
preserved my father's life amid the rage of battle, surely cannot be a
stranger! Gratitude and honour forbid it!--it is impossible. He too is
descended from a brave and royal race--the blood of kings pulsates in
his veins. I shall be silent on all the noble qualifications he
possesses; those that run may read them. And I will not, I confess,
blush when I say that I love the man who preserved your valuable life,
and that upon him my hopes, my happiness, my future fortune in life
depend! I feel, most duly and deeply feel, honoured by the duke's
proposal; however, I respectfully, yet decidedly decline it."
"Indeed!!--So young, yet so determined too!"
"I would not, my Lord, be the daughter of the Duke and Duchess of
Tyrconnel were I to waver, or act irresolutely."
"I see most clearly, Adelaide, how matters stand--'_All for love, or the
world well lost!_' In a word, your heart is pre-engaged. The Bruce!"
"I will not, my dearest father, deceive you. I cannot, I shall not deny
it. My heart is truly engaged; and my affections are placed upon one
who is every way deserving of them, even were my rank higher than it
is."
"Have you ever, my child, observed a settled gloom which at times damps
the lustre of the Bruce's eye, and desolates his noble features? This
your mother and I have at times observed. You, doubtless, saw it not,
too much enamoured to make the discovery. But I have no manner of
hesitation in thinking, and declaring as my opinion, that Bruce has a
secret sorrow at heart;--and one day indeed, I must observe to you, that
your mother discovered him in tears."
"Oh, my dear father, it was only love--retired, sincere, and
unpretending love!--Surely I have wept often myself. But then they were
rather tears of joy to reflect, when finally your objections and mamma's
were overcome, how blest, how happy I should be, united to the Bruce!"
"I perceive, Adelaide, when it is too late, that I have only to condemn
myself for the incautious and imprudent introduction of Sir David
Bruce."
"Not so, my dear father, I saw and loved him before your
introduction--loved him at first sight! The declaration is strange, but
it is true. I know not how it was, but yet I know so it is, and I
honestly confess my weakness."
"And for this thy love at first sight!--this childish offspring of an
enthusiast's brain!--you seem fully resolved to relinquish the noblest
connexion in Belgium, of which princesses might be proud--a warrior
duke, descended from a long ennobled line of ancestry, his suit denied,
and the preference given to a stranger! Monstrous!--not to be endured.
Oh, such a damning fact ought not to have been disclosed to a father's
ear!"
"Oh, dear Sir, say not so. Not to be disclosed to a father's ear!--Oh,
then, pray Sir, to whom should I disclose it, if not to the ear of my
parent? Ought I not hope to find in his bosom a friend, a counsellor,
adviser, and protector; in a word, a father! You saw, Sir--you must have
seen, that I was beloved by the Bruce; and I had not the art to
disguise that I met, that I returned his love. Time was, when a child,
as I well remember, when you oft carried me on your shoulder, and took
me upon your lap: 'My Adelaide,' you then were wont to say, 'you should
ever consider your parents as your best friends, the most interested in
your welfare beyond all the world besides. Oh, never look upon them as
tyrants or oppressors; the tie of affection between a child and its
parents, from continued affection, is stronger even than the filial
bonds of nature herself. In doubt or distress, therefore, ever look up
to and consult your mother and me as your natural protectors and
advisers, in weal or in woe, as your sincerest friends, rest you
convinced, that you have upon earth; and be sure to take no decided step
whatever without consulting us, as you shall ever most cordially
receive, and candidly too, the best advice of your mother and me, and
always be assured of the warmth of the affection of both your parents.'
Now, my dear father, have I forgotten this advice? say rather intently
I have treasured up all these sayings in my heart, freshly stamped and
impressed, as if it were only yesterday that you had pronounced them.
Rest assured, dearest Sir, of this, that I shall never do a clandestine
act; and when thus I solemnly pledge myself to my parents never to marry
without _their consent_, oh, surely they will not--they could not be so
severe or so unjust as to require me to submit without my own!--more
especially when my heart is wholly disinclined--nay, and more, dislikes,
and wholly refuses assent. Say, should I hold forth my hand, dear and
honoured father, when my heart rejects, if not hates! Oh, say would it
not be most base and dishonourable; nay, more--it would be--(horrible to
reflect on!) it would be lying and prevaricating at the altar of God;
and there solemnly, but falsely, declaring that I would 'love, honour,
and obey' a man, however high his rank and great his worth, still that I
never loved, nor ever can love! No, no--a lie pronounced at the altar of
heaven!----I cannot do it!"
"Oh, my dearest Adelaide, indeed thou art my child--flesh of my flesh,
and blood of my blood. Believe me then, and despond not, my dearest
daughter, no aspiration to add to your rank or to increase your fortune
against your consent, shall ever again influence your mother or me. Come
then, my beloved, to thy father's arms, and never again shall our
opinions clash in collision. I glory in the name of father, when I count
that Adelaide is mine own dearest daughter; yea my only one! think then
no more, my dearest child, of what has gone past. I promise you solemnly
that you shall never again be teased or solicited upon this topic, so
think of what has passed but as the idle fantasy of a frightful dream!"
This eventful day appeared to the much-dejected Adelaide as the longest
and most wearisome she had witnessed in the annals of her life. Although
still she deeply suffered, and succumbed beneath the ban of exile from
her native land and home, Adelaide likewise had deeply felt her pride
wounded to the very core at the outlawry and attainder of her parents.
More perplexing still yet seemed those moments of trial which now had
arrived, when Adelaide had to encounter and oppose the opinions of a
parent, in which, although completely triumphant, yet still her success
gave her pain, but not joy. And although the day ended, as happily it
did, in reconciliation, yet it had commenced in the not-to-be-mistaken
tone of high and angry displeasure.
Quite overcome, from thus differing so widely in opinion from those she
deeply regarded, oppressed with a quick and fevered pulse, and a frame
sadly exhausted, Adelaide gladly retired to repose, mentally exclaiming,
as she departed to her chamber,
----"Husband! wife!
There is some holy mystery in those names,
That sure the unmarried cannot understand."