_Mr. Philip De Lancaster receives a second Visit from Sir David Ap Owen,
and is forced into Measures not very willingly acceded to._
Faithful to his time, Sir David walked into poor Philip’s room without
ceremony, followed by the bearer of the bond, and accompanied by a
miscreant, who, in the counterfeited dress of an officer, was in his
true character and profession nothing better than a bully and assassin.
There is the bond, said Ap Owen, throwing it on the table: this
gentleman, who drew it up, will read it over to you, and point out the
place where you are to sign and seal. Though in itself a mere matter of
form, yet where a lady’s honour is concerned, it is a form
indispensable. It will behove you therefore instantly to complete it: if
not, this brave and gallant officer, who holds a respectable command in
the army of his most faithful majesty, and is my friend, will be under
the unpleasant necessity to demand satisfaction of you in my name, and
settle time and place for deciding our difference by the death of one of
us.
Immediately the bond-bearer began to gabble it over with that kind of
inarticulate rapidity, which to Philip’s perturbed senses gave little
chance for understanding it. This ceremony being over, the operation of
signing and sealing was pressed forward with the utmost haste, and urged
by Sir David and his mock-military friend with no common importunity.
What could poor Philip do, _hedged in_, as he had observed, _between
matrimony and murder_? He looked up, and in the face of the
black-whiskered demon-like assassin, that stood over him with the pen,
read his fate if he refused: he signed the bond, and sealed it with _the
winged harp_, that never since the days of Bladud had been so disgraced:
by this he was pledged to a penalty of twenty thousand pounds, if he
failed in the conditions, or, if he fulfilled them, consigned over to
the arms of Mrs. Rachel Ap Owen, relict of Mr. David Ap Owen, and
daughter of he knew not whom.
As soon as this was done, the bond-bearer folded up his paper, thrust it
into his bosom and walked off: the principal and his second sate down on
each side of Philip--We have now one common interest, said Sir David,
and are friends for life. The injurious treatment I have received from
those, with whom I shall be so nearly connected, and chiefly from your
son, may now be amicably adjusted. You, Mr. Philip De Lancaster, will be
united to one of the most amiable women in the world; a lady descended
from the illustrious house of De La Cerda, and endowed with every grace,
and every virtue, that can render the married state correctly honourable
and supremely happy.
If it be but quiet, that is all I ask, poor Philip said in a desponding
tone. After a short pause he added--If this gentleman has no particular
objection to leaving us alone, I should wish to say a few words to you,
Sir David, in private upon family concerns.
Sir David desired the colonel, as he called him, to wait for him in the
next room: Philip took the liberty of informing him that he should go to
England by the pacquet for the purpose of settling some affairs, that in
consequence of Mrs. De Lancaster’s decease would require his presence.
To this Sir David replied--I perceive you have not strictly attended to
the conditions of the bond, you would have else have known that to
separate yourself from my mother before marriage would involve you in
the forfeiture of it. We mean to pass the winter months at Cintra, where
I have engaged a house in the near neighbourhood of Mr. Devereux’s
villa. It is sufficiently large to accommodate us both; and you will
there not only find yourself in an earthly paradise, but enjoy the full
opportunity of cultivating a more close acquaintance with the truly
amiable object, who is destined to make your future days respectable and
happy. What a violation would it be of all the rules of gallantry and
good faith were you to run over to England and desert her! No, my dear
sir, (and here Sir David took his hand and attempted a look, which, if
he meant it as a smile, was a wretched and most libellous imitation) no,
my dear sir, he said, I could not for any consideration in life submit
to part from my good father-in-law elect, for whom I have conceived so
cordial an esteem, and in whose society I promise myself so many
agreeable hours. Having now definitively adjusted your alliance with my
mother, I shall lose no further time in sounding Mr. Devereux on the
disposal of his daughter, and we may very probably effect a double
marriage at the same happy moment, provided only that I find the young
lady’s fortune answer my expectations.
That is truly a very prudent consideration, Philip replied, and puts me
in mind, Sir David, to ask you what is the fortune I am to expect with
the lady your mother.
The happiest that can befal you, was the answer, and a bond of twenty
thousand pounds cancelled on your wedding-day. With these words Ap Owen
left the room, whilst poor Philip, silenced but not satisfied, made no
further effort to detain him.
Though Mrs. Rachel De Lancaster had some grounds for expecting a
proposal, she had no such plea upon the score of actual promise as could
constitute a claim so peremptory as now was urged upon him; and with all
the partiality he had ever felt or expressed for the widow, it may well
be doubted if his dread of marriage would not in all cases have
outweighed his hopes of happiness. But now, crest-fallen and spiritless,
in a strange country, which he dare not quit, and conscious, that,
except within the walls of his far-distant home, he had not in the world
a friend, to whom he could unbosom his sorrows and appeal for succour
and advice, he poignantly felt the full impression of his distressful
situation. To his father he was ashamed to write; to his sister writing
could not serve him; Colonel Wilson was not a man for his purpose, and
there remained only his son John, whom, though he had hitherto treated
as a child, he now thought proper to address by letter; and in the
course of the next day, after as much meditation as his mind was capable
of, he wrote as follows.
“Dear son!
“The circumstance of your mother’s death, communicated to me in a
letter from your aunt, has involved me in a very serious
difficulty, of which I lose no time to give you an account. Sir
David Ap Owen, who has settled himself here for the winter, and
with whom I am upon the best terms, has used very cogent means to
prevail upon me to enter into contract of marriage, claiming the
fulfilment of a promise, which he states that I have made to Mrs.
Rachel Ap Owen his mother, when I visited her at Penruth Abbey.
Now though I will not deny but that words were said by me, which
she has a right to consider as extremely flattering, I do not think
they can be made to bear the interpretation of an absolute promise,
as insisted upon by Sir David. I protest to you, son John, I am not
a man inclined to hasty measures, more especially of a matrimonial
nature, being, as you know, rather studious of my repose; and of
course I took some pains to satisfy the gentleman that, with all
possible respect for the lady, it would suit me better to leave her
in possession of her tranquillity, and continue to enjoy my own.
Sir David’s answer to this was by the statement of an alternative,
which was not a little embarrassing, as he left me nothing but a
choice of difficulties; declaring that I must either instantly
decide to keep faith with his mother, and pledge myself to marry
her, or turn out with him and end the difference by the death of
one of us. Now though I am not afraid of death in a natural way,
knowing we all must die, yet I am for conscience-sake a most
determined enemy to duelling, by which my grandfather lost his
life; I therefore had insuperable objections to the latter part of
his proposal; and seeing him also accompanied by a gentleman of a
very martial appearance, who, though offering himself as second
only, seemed by far more terrible than his principal, I thought
good to compromise the matter, and executed a bond, obliging myself
under a very heavy penalty (not less than twenty thousand pounds)
to wed the lady on the expiration of three months to come. Now as
every one must acknowledge the uncommon merits of Mrs. Rachel Ap
Owen, and none can be more sensible of them than I am, I console
myself with the reflection, that if I shall be perfectly recovered
from my bruises, when the time comes that our union is to take
place, it may prove the happy means of restoring that antient and
accustomed harmony between our families, which with much regret I
understand has of late been interrupted. You are thus possessed of
what I have to say, and as I suspect that my father will be adverse
to this hasty match; and doubt if even Cecilia with all her candour
will be entirely reconciled to it, I conjure you by your filial
duty and affection, if you find them obstinate in their opposition,
to come over in person to my relief and comfort; forasmuch I am
bound not to stir from this country, and so closely watched that,
were I disposed to attempt it, I am certain the attempt would be
frustrated, and perhaps be fatal.
“This is the first letter I ever wrote to you; lay it to your
heart: recollect that you are my son, and if haply you possess that
active spirit of your ancestors, which has not descended upon me,
take pity on my situation, and hasten to the rescue of your
affectionate, but afflicted, father--
“PHILIP DE LANCASTER.”
Philip had just time to set his name to this lamentable epistle, when a
young gentleman of good person and elegant address, who had been
announced by the name of Devereux, entered the room. He understood Mr.
De Lancaster to be in habits of friendship with Sir David Ap Owen, and,
if he had not been misinformed, they were near neighbours in
Merionethshire.
Philip said he had been rightly informed. They were near neighbours. Sir
David’s seat at Penruth was not above four miles from Kray Castle, where
he lived with his father.
Penruth has been represented to me, said the gentleman, as a very fine
old venerable mansion--Philip nodded assent--And the estate about it
very considerable; indeed, as I have been told, very capital.
I have been told the same, Philip said; but I am not curious about
people’s estates. Sir Owen, this young gentleman’s uncle, lived very
handsomely, and very hospitably, upon it. That is all I know of the
matter.
I suspect, rejoined the other, I may appear to you more inquisitive than
I ought to be; but I beg leave to say in my own defence that I was
particularly referred to you by Sir David himself.
Sir David could not have referred you to a more unfit man: I am as
ignorant of my own father’s estate as I am of Sir David’s, and of Sir
David’s as I am of your’s.
Why then, sir, I must pay a visit to Penruth myself; for I have my
father’s strict commands to obtain information of every particular
necessary for him to know relative to Sir David Ap Owen, who, I must now
tell you, has made proposals to us for marrying my sister.
Yes, and to me, said Philip, for marrying his mother; you see therefore
it is a family-affair between us, and though I have not a single
syllable to offer why Sir David’s marriage with your sister should not
take place, I confess it would not break my heart if mine with his
mother was put off for ever. Now, sir, if you are bound to England, I
can truly say, I wish I were going with you; but if you meditate a visit
to Penruth Abbey, where there is nobody to receive you, I most earnestly
recommend it to you to turn aside and go to Kray Castle, where my father
and his family will be happy to see you, and where you may do me a
singular piece of service, if you will take charge of this letter, which
I have just been writing, and deliver it privately to my son, whilst I
will trouble you to be the bearer of a few lines to my good and worthy
father, simply to let him know how respectable a visitor I shall have
the honour to introduce to him, when you are pleased to avail yourself
of his well known hospitality.
Sir, replied Devereux, I am setting off for England in to-morrow’s
pacquet. Of your letter to your son I will take faithful charge, and
deliver it to him in the manner you prescribe. I also thankfully embrace
your very kind offer of introducing me to your father, of whose high
character for worth and honour I am not uninformed; whilst I must own
there is a mysterious kind of cloud about Sir David Ap Owen, through
which I am not able perfectly to see my way; for I find him totally
unknown to our British envoy here, and have not heard him say what
brings him and the lady, to whom it seems you are engaged, into this
country, having so lately succeeded to a great situation and
establishment in his own. With respect to his proposed connection with
my family, I must beg to say, that although we reside here in the
character and capacity of merchants, we have nevertheless such
pretensions on the score of noble birth and property by no means
inconsiderable, as give us a perfect right to use every honorable
precaution for knowing whom we are to receive into our alliance,
provided the gentleman, who proposes, shall prove acceptable to us as
well as to my sister; on whom nothing has been sparingly bestowed, that
either nature could give or education improve.
This being said, what further passed is not important to relate. Philip
wrote a short letter to his father, and having delivered it, and his
secret pacquet, to Mr. Devereux, took his leave of him, and as he
grasped his hand with a sensation, rarely, if ever, felt by him before,
he sent from his sad heart a longing sigh towards his beloved native
country, which fate, that had doomed him never more to visit it but as
a corpse, gave to the winds, that dispersed it on its passage.