A few days longer passed, and Emmeline yet heard nothing of the return
of Lord and Lady Westhaven; a circumstance at which she grew extremely
uneasy. Not only as it gave her reason to fear for the health of Lord
Delamere, for whom she was very anxious; but for that of Lady Westhaven,
whom she so tenderly loved.
She observed too, with concern, that under pretence of waiting the
arrival of his son and his son in law, Lord Montreville delayed all
advances towards a settlement; and that Mrs. Stafford, wearied by the
duplicity and chicanery of the Crofts', and miserable in being detained
so long from her children, grew quite disheartened, and was prevented
only by her affection for Emmeline from returning to France and
abandoning all hopes of an accommodation which every day seemed more
difficult and more distant.
The arrival of Lord Westhaven was on her account particularly desirable,
as he had promised Emmeline to make a point of assisting her; and on his
assurances she knew it was safe to rely, since they were neither made to
give himself an air of importance, nor meant to quiet the trouble of
present importunity, by holding out the prospect of future advantage
never thought of more.
Nothing, however, could be done to hasten this important arrival; and
the fair friends, tho' uneasy and impatient, were obliged to submit. But
from the restlessness of daily suspence, they were roused by two
letters; which brought in it's place only poignant concern. That to Mrs.
Stafford was from her husband; who, tho' he had neither relish for her
conversation nor respect for her virtues, was yet dissatisfied without
her; and even while she was wholly occupied in serving him, tormented
her with murmurs and suspicions. He scrupled not to hint, 'that as she
was with her beloved Miss Mowbray, she forgot her duty to her family;
and that as she had been now gone near a month, he thought it quite long
enough, not only to have done the business she undertook, but to have
enjoyed as much pleasure as was in her situation reasonable. He
therefore expected her to return to France, and supposed that she had
settled every thing to facilitate his coming back to England.' The
unreasonable expectations, and ungrateful suspicions, which this letter
contained, overwhelmed her with mortification. To return without having
finished the business on which she came, would be to expose herself to
insult and reproach; yet to stay longer, without a probability of
succeeding by her stay, would only occasion an aggravation of his ill
humour, and probably a worse reception when she rejoined him.
The letter to Emmeline was from Lady Adelina, and ran thus.--
_East Cliff, Oct. 16._
'Godolphin, my Emmeline, is at length returned to your unhappy
friend, who has passed many, many melancholy days since he left her.
My dear brother appears not only in better health, but in better
spirits than when he went from hence. Ought I then to repine? when I
see him, and when he tells me that you are well; and that affluence,
and with it, I hope, happiness will be your's? The very name of
happiness and of Adelina should not come in the same page! Ah! never
must they any where meet again. Pardon me for thus recurring to
myself: but the mournful topic will intrude! Unhappy Trelawny! he
had not quite compleated his twenty-fifth year. Tho' I never either
loved or esteemed him, and tho' to my early and hasty marriage I owe
all the misery of my life, his death has something shocking in it.
My weak spirits, which have of late been unusually deranged, are
sadly affected by it. Yet surely in regard to _him_ I have little to
reproach myself. Did he not abandon me to my destiny? did he not
plunge headlong into follies from which he resented even an effort
to save him? Alas! unless I could have given him that understanding
which nature
had denied him, my solicitude must ever have been vain! It is
some alleviation, too, to my concern, to reflect, that as much of
his honour as depended on me, has not, by the breath of public
fame, been sullied. And I try to persuade myself, that since his
life was useful to nobody, and had long been, from intemperance,
burthensome to himself, I should not suffer his death to dwell so
heavily upon me. Yet in spite of every effort to shake off the
melancholy which devours me, it encreases upon me; and to you I may
say, for you will hear and pity me, that there exists not at this
moment so complete a wretch as your Adelina!
'To my brother William, all gentle and generous as he is, I cannot
complain. It were ingratitude to let him see how little all his
tenderness avails towards reconciling me to myself; towards healing
the wounds of my depressed spirit, and quieting the murmurs of this
feeble heart. Yet methinks to have a friend, in whose compassionate
bosom I might pour out it's weakness and it's sorrows, would
mitigate the extreme severity of those sufferings which are now more
than I can bear.
'Where have I on earth such a friend but in my Emmeline? And will
she refuse to come to me? Ah! wherefore should she refuse it? I
shall be alone; for Godolphin is obliged to go immediately to London
to settle all the business I shall now ever have with the family of
Trelawny, and put it on such a footing as may preclude the necessity
of my ever meeting any of them hereafter. He tells me that your
affairs advance nothing till Lord Westhaven's return; and that our
dear Mrs. Stafford talks of being obliged to go back to her family.
If she must do so, you will not stay in London alone; and where is
your company so fondly desired, where can you have such an
opportunity of exercising your generous goodness, as in coming
hither? Our little boy--do you not long to embrace him? Ah! lovely
as he is, why dare I not indulge all the pleasure and all the pride
I might feel in seeing him; and wherefore must anguish so keen
mingle with tenderness so delicious!
'Ah! my friend, come to me, I entreat, I implore you! The reasons
why I cannot see London, are of late multiplied rather than removed,
and I can only have the happiness of embracing you here. Hesitate
not to oblige me then; for I every hour wish more and more ardently
to see you. When I awake from my imperfect slumbers, your presence
is the first desire of my heart: I figure you to myself as I wander
forth on my solitary walks.
And when I _do_ sleep, the image of my angelic friend,
consolatory and gentle, makes me some amends for visions less
pleasant, that disturb it.
'Ah! let me not see you in dreams alone; for above all I want
you--"when I am alone with poor Adelina." Come, O come; and if it be
possible--save me--from myself!
A.T.'
The melancholy tenor of this letter greatly affected Emmeline. She
wished almost as eagerly as her friend to be with her. But how could she
determine to become an inmate at the house of Godolphin, even tho' he
was himself to be absent from it? She communicated, however, Lady
Adelina's request to Mrs. Stafford, who could see no objection to any
plan which might promote the interest of Godolphin. She represented
therefore to Emmeline how very disagreeable it would be to her to be
left alone in town, when she should herself be obliged to leave her, as
must now soon happen. That there was, in fact, no very proper asylum for
her but the house of her uncle, which he seemed not at all disposed to
offer her. But that to Lady Adelina's proposal there could be no
reasonable objection, especially as Godolphin was not to be there.
Emmeline yet hesitated; till another letter from Stafford, more harsh
and unreasonable than the first, obliged her friend to fix on the
following Thursday for her departure; the absurd impatience of her
husband thus defeating it's own purpose; and Emmeline, partly influenced
by her persuasions, and yet more by her own wishes, determined at length
to fix the same time for beginning her journey to the Isle of Wight.
There was yet two days to intervene; and Mrs. Stafford was obliged to
employ the first of them in the city, among lawyers and creditors of her
husband. From scenes so irksome she readily allowed Miss Mowbray to
excuse herself; who therefore remained at home, and was engaged in
looking over some poems she had purchased, when she heard a rap at the
door, and the voice of Godolphin on the stairs enquiring of Le Limosin
for Mrs. Stafford. Le Limosin told him that she was from home, but that
Mademoiselle Mowbray was in the dining room. He sent up to know if he
might be admitted. Emmeline had no pretence for refusing him, and
received him with a mixture of confusion and pleasure, which she
ineffectually attempted to hide under the ordinary forms of civility.
The eyes of Godolphin were animated by the delight of beholding her. But
when she enquired after Lady Adelina, as she almost immediately did,
they assumed a more melancholy expression.
'Adelina is far from being well,' said he. 'Has she not written to you?'
'She has.'
'And has she not preferred a request to you?'
'Yes.'
'What answer do you mean to give it? Will you refuse once more to bless
and relieve, by your presence, my unhappy sister?'
'I do not know,' said Emmeline, deeply blushing, 'that I ought,
(especially without the concurrence of my uncle,) to consent; yet to
contribute to the satisfaction of Lady Adelina--to give _her_ any degree
of happiness--what is there I can refuse?'
'Adorable, angelic goodness!' eagerly cried Godolphin. 'Best, as well as
loveliest of human creatures! You go then?'
'I intend beginning my journey on Thursday.'
'And you will allow me to see you safe thither?'
'There can surely be no occasion to give you that trouble, Sir,' said
Emmeline apprehensively; 'nor ought you to think of it, since Lady
Adelina's affairs certainly require your attendance in London.'
'They do; but not so immediately as to prevent my attending you to East
Cliff. If you will suffer me to do that, I promise instantly to return.'
'No. I go only attended by my servants or go not at all.'
Godolphin was mortified to find her so determined. And easily
discouraged from those hopes which he had indulged rather from the
flattering prospects offered to him by Mrs. Stafford than presumption
founded on his own remarks, he now again felt all his apprehensions
renewed of her latent affection for Delamere. The acute anguish to which
those ideas exposed him, and their frequent return, determined him now
to attempt knowing at once, whether he had or had not that place in
Emmeline's heart which Mrs. Stafford had assured him he had long
possessed.
Sitting down near her, therefore, he said, gravely--'As I may not, Miss
Mowbray, soon have again the happiness I now enjoy, will you allow me to
address you on a subject which you must long have known to be nearest
my heart; but on which you have so anxiously avoided every explanation I
have attempted, that I fear intruding too much on your complaisance if I
enter upon it.'
Emmeline found she could not avoid hearing him; and sat silent, her
heart violently beating. Godolphin went on.--
'From the first moment I beheld you, my heart was your's. I attempted,
indeed, at the beginning of our acquaintance--ah! how vainly
attempted!--to conquer a passion which I believed was rendered hopeless
by your prior engagement. While I supposed you the promised wife of Lord
Delamere, I concealed, as well as I was able, my sufferings, and never
offended you with an hint of their severity. Had you married him, I
think I could have carried them in silence to the grave. Those ties,
however, Lord Delamere himself broke; and I then thought myself at
liberty to solicit your favour. It was for that purpose I took the road
to St. Alpin, when the unhappy Delamere stopped me at Besançon.
'When I afterwards related to you his illness; the sorrow, the lively
and generous sorrow, you expressed for _him_, and the cold and reserved
manner in which you received _me_, made me still believe, that tho' he
had relinquished your hand he yet possessed your heart. I saw it with
anguish, and continued silent. All that passed at Besançon confirmed me
in this opinion. I determined to tear myself away, and again conceal in
solitude a passion, which, while I felt it to be incurable, I feared was
hopeless. Accident, however, detaining me at Calais, again threw me in
your way; and I heard, that far from having renewed your engagement with
Lord Delamere, you had left him to avoid his eager importunity. Dare I
add--that _then_, my pity for him was lost in the hopes I presumed to
form for myself; and studiously as you have avoided giving me an
opportunity of speaking to you, I have yet ventured to flatter myself
that you beheld not with anger or scorn, my ardent, my fond attachment.'
From the beginning of this speech to it's conclusion, the encreasing
confusion of Emmeline deprived her of all power of answering it. With
deepened blushes, and averted eyes, she at first sought for refuge in
affecting to be intent on the netting she drew from her work box; but
having spoiled a whole row, her trembling hands could no longer go on
with it; and as totally her tongue refused to utter the answer, which,
by the pause he made, she concluded Godolphin expected. After a moment,
however, he went on.
'I have by no means encouraged visions so delightful, without a severe
alloy of fear and mistrust. Frequently, your coldness, your unkindness,
gives me again to despondence; and every lovely prospect I had suffered
my imagination to draw, is lost in clouds and darkness. Yet I am
convinced you do not _intend_ to torture me; and that from Miss Mowbray
I may expect that candour, that explicit conduct, of which common minds
are incapable. Tell me then, dearest and loveliest Emmeline, may I
venture to hope that tender bosom is not wholly insensible? Will you
hear me with patience, and even with pity?'
'What, Sir, can I say?' faulteringly asked Emmeline. 'I am in a great
measure dependant, at least for some time, on Lord Montreville; and till
I am of age, have determined to hear nothing on the subject on which you
are pleased to address me.'
'Admitting it to be so,' answered Godolphin, 'give me but an hope to
live upon till then!'
'I will not deny, Sir,' said Emmeline still more faintly, 'I will not
deny that my esteem for your character--my--my'
'Oh! speak!' exclaimed Godolphin eagerly--'speak, and tell me that----'
At this moment Le Limosin hastily came into the room, and
said--'_Mademoiselle, le Chevalier de Bellozane demande permission de
vous parler._'[39]
Godolphin, vexed at the interruption, and embarrassed at the arrival of
the Chevalier, said hastily--'You will not see him?'
'How can I refuse him?' answered she; 'perhaps he comes with some
intelligence of your brother--of my dear Lady Westhaven.'
By this time the Chevalier was in the room. Emmeline received him with
anxious and confused looks, arising entirely from her apprehensions
about Lady Westhaven and Lord Delamere; but the vanity of Bellozane saw
in it only a struggle between her real sentiments and her affectation of
concealment. She almost instantly, however, enquired after her friends.
'I left them,' said Bellozane, 'almost as soon as you did, and went
(because I wanted money and my father wanted to see _me_,) back to St.
Alpin, where I staid almost a fortnight; and having obtained a necessary
recruit of cash, I set off for Paris; where (my leave of absence being
to expire in another month) I was forced to make interest to obtain a
longer permission, in order to throw myself, lovely Miss Mowbray, at
your feet, and to pass the winter in the delights of London, which they
tell me I shall like better than Paris.'
Emmeline, disgusted at his presumption and volatility, enquired if he
knew nothing since of Lord and Lady Westhaven.
'Oh, yes,' said he, 'I saw them all at Paris, and asked them if they had
any commands to you? But I could get nothing from my good cousin but
sage advice, and from Lady Westhaven only cold looks and half sentences;
and as to poor Delamere, I knew he was too much afraid of my success to
be in a better temper with me than the other two; so we had but little
conversation.'
'But they are well, Sir?'
'No; Delamere has been detained all this time by illness, at different
places. He was better when I saw him; but Lady Westhaven was herself
ill, and my cousin was, in looks, the most rueful of the three.'
'But, Sir, when may they be expected in England?'
'That I cannot tell. The last time I saw Lord Westhaven was above a week
before I left Paris; and then he said he knew not when his wife would be
well enough to begin their journey, but he hoped within a fortnight.'
'Good God!' thought Emmeline, 'what can have prevented his writing to me
all this time?'
Godolphin, after the first compliments passed with the Chevalier, had
been quite silent. He now, however, asked some questions about his
brother; by which he found, that in consequence of endeavouring to
discourage Bellozane's voyage to England, Lord Westhaven had offended
him, and that a coldness had taken place between them. Bellozane had
ceased to consider Godolphin as a rival, when he beheld Lord Delamere in
that light; and was now rather pleased to meet him, knowing that his
introduction into good company would greatly be promoted by means of
such a relation.
'Do you know,' said the Chevalier, addressing himself to Emmeline, 'that
I have had some trouble, my fair friend, to find you?'
'And how,' enquired Godolphin, 'did you accomplish it?'
'Why my Lord Westhaven, to whom I applied at Paris, protested that he
did not know; so remembering the name of le Marquis de Montreville, I
wrote to him to know where I might wait on Mademoiselle Mowbray.
Monseigneur le Marquis being at his country house, did not immediately
answer my letter. At length I had a card from him, which he had the
complaisance to send by a gentleman, un Monsieur--Monsieur _Croff_, who
invited me to his house, and introduced me to Milady _Croff_, his wife,
who is daughter to Milor Montreville. _Mon Dieu! que cette femme la, est
vive, aimable; qu'elle a l'air du monde, et de la bonne compagnie._'[40]
'You think Lady Frances Crofts, then, handsomer than her sister?' asked
Godolphin.
'_Mais non--elle n'est pas peut-etre si belle--mais elle a cependant un
certain air. Enfin--je la trouve charmante._'[41]
Godolphin then continuing to question him, found that the Crofts' had
invited Bellozane with an intention of getting from him the purpose of
his journey, and what his business was with Emmeline; and finding that
it was his gallantry only brought him over, and that he knew nothing of
the late Mr. Mowbray's affairs, had no longer made any attempt to oppose
his seeing her.
Godolphin, tho' he believed Emmeline not only indifferent but averse to
him, was yet much disquieted at finding she was likely again to be
exposed to his importunities. He trembled least if he discovered her
intentions of going to East Cliff, he should follow her thither; for
which his relationship to Lady Adelina would furnish him with a
pretence; and desirous of getting him away as soon as possible, he asked
if he would dine with him at his lodgings.
Bellozane answered that he was already engaged to Mr. Crofts'; and then
turning to Emmeline, offered to take her hand; and enquired whether she
had a softer heart than when she left Besançon?
Emmeline drew away her hand; and very gravely entreated him to say no
more on a subject already so frequently discussed, and on which her
sentiments must ever be the same. Bellozane gaily protested that he had
been too long a soldier to be easily repulsed. That he would wait on her
the next day, and doubted not but he should find her more favourably
disposed. '_Je reviendrai demain vous offrir encore mon hommage. Adieu!
nymphe belle et cruelle. La chaine que je porte fera toute ma
gloire._'[42] He then snatched her hand, which in spite of her efforts he
kissed, and with his usual gaiety went away, accompanied by Godolphin.
Hardly had Emmeline time to recollect her dissipated spirits after the
warm and serious address of Godolphin, and to feel vexation and disgust
at the presumptuous forwardness of Bellozane, from which she apprehended
much future trouble, before a note was brought from Mrs. Stafford, to
inform her, that after waiting some hours at the house of the attorney
she employed, the people who were to meet her had disappointed her, and
that there was no prospect of her getting her business done till a late
hour in the evening; she therefore desired Emmeline to dine without her,
and not to expect her till ten or eleven at night.
As it was now between four and five, she ordered up her dinner, and was
sitting down to it alone, when Godolphin again entered the room.
Vexation was marked in his countenance: he seemed hurried; and having
apologized for again interrupting her, tho' he did not account for his
return, he sat down.
'Surely,' cried Emmeline, alarmed, 'you have heard nothing unpleasant
from France?'
'Nothing, upon my honour,' answered he. 'The account the Chevalier gives
is indeed far from satisfactory, yet I am persuaded there is nothing
particularly amiss, or we should have heard.'
'It is that consideration only which has made me tolerably easy. Yet it
is strange I have no letter from Lady Westhaven. Will you dine with me?'
added Emmeline. It was indeed hardly possible to avoid asking him, as Le
Limosin at that moment brought up the dinner.
'Where is Mrs. Stafford?' said he.
'Detained in the city.'
'And you dine alone, and will allow me the happiness of dining with
you?'
'Certainly,' replied Emmeline, blushing, 'if you will favour me with
your company.'
Godolphin then placed himself at the end of the table; and in the
pleasure of being with her, thus unmarked by others, and considering her
invitation as an assurance that his declaration of the morning was
favourably received, he forgot the chagrin which hung upon him at his
first entrance, and thought only of the means by which he might
perpetuate the happiness he now possessed.
Emmeline tried to shake off, in common conversation, her extreme
embarrassment. But when dinner was over, and Le Limosin left the room,
in whose presence she felt a sort of protection, she foresaw that she
must again hear Godolphin, and that it would be almost impossible to
evade answering him.
She now repented of having asked him to dine with her; then blamed
herself for the reserve and coldness with which she had almost always
treated a man, who, deserving all her affections, had so long possessed
them.
But the idea of poor Delamere--of his sadness, his despair, arose before
her, and was succeeded by yet more frightful images of the consequences
that might follow his frantic passions. And impressed at once with pity
and terror, she again resolved to keep, if it were possible, the true
state of her heart from the knowledge of Godolphin.
'I have seldom seen one of my relations with so little pleasure,' said
he, after the servant had withdrawn, 'as I to day met my volatile cousin
de Bellozane. I hoped he would have persecuted you no farther with a
passion to which I think you are not disposed to listen.'
'I certainly never intend it.'
'Pardon me then, dearest Miss Mowbray, if I solicit leave to renew the
conversation his abrupt entrance broke off. You had the goodness to say
you had some esteem for my character--Ah! tell me, if on that esteem I
may presume to build those hopes which alone can give value to the rest
of my life?'
Emmeline, who saw he expected an answer, attempted to speak; but the
half-formed words died away on her lips. It was not thus she was used to
receive the addresses of Delamere: her heart then left her reason and
her resolution at liberty, but now the violence of it's sensations
deprived her of all power of uttering sentiments foreign to it, or
concealing those it really felt.
Godolphin drew from this charming confusion a favourable omen.--'You
hear me not with anger, lovely Emmeline!' cried he--'You allow me, then,
to hope?'
'I can only repeat, Sir,' said Emmeline, in a voice hardly audible,
'that until I am of age, I have resolved to hear nothing on this
subject.'
'And why not? Are you not now nearly as independant as you will be
then?'
'Alas!' said Emmeline, 'I am indeed!--for my uncle concerns not himself
about me, and it is doubtful whether he will do me even the justice to
acknowledge me.'
'He must, he shall!' replied Godolphin warmly--'Ah! entrust me with your
interest; let me, in the character of the fortunate man whom you allow
to hope for your favour--let me apply to him for justice.'
'That any one should make such an application, except Lord Westhaven, is
what I greatly wish to avoid. I shall most reluctantly appeal to the
interference of friends; and still more to that of _law_. The last is,
you know, very uncertain. And instead of the heiress to the estate of my
father, as I have lately been taught to believe myself, I may be found
still to be the poor destitute orphan, so long dependant on the bounty
of my uncle.'
'And as such,' cried Godolphin, greatly animated, 'you will be dearer to
me than my existence! Yes! Emmeline; whether you are mistress of
thousands, or friendless, portionless and deserted, your power over this
heart is equally absolute--equally fixed! Ah! suffer not any
consideration that relates to the uncertainty of your situation, to
delay a moment the permission you must, you will give me, to avow my
long and ardent passion.'
'It must not be, Mr. Godolphin!' (and tears filled her eyes as she
spoke) 'Indeed it must not be! It is not now _possible_, at least it is
very _improper_, for me to listen to you. Ah! do not then press it. I
have indeed already suffered you to say too much on such a topic.'
Godolphin then renewed his warm entreaties that he might be permitted
openly to profess himself her lover: but she still evaded giving way to
them, by declaring that 'till she was of age she would not marry. 'Had I
no other objections,' continued she, 'the singularity of my
circumstances is alone sufficient to determine me. I cannot think of
accepting the honour you offer me, while my very _name_ is in some
degree doubtful; it would, I own, mortify me to take any advantage of
your generosity; and should I fail of obtaining from Lord Montreville
that to which I am now believed to have a claim, his Lordship, irritated
at the attempt, will probably withdraw what he has hitherto allowed
me--scanty support, and occasional protection.'
'Find protection with your lover, with your husband!' exclaimed he--'And
may that happy husband, that adoring lover, be Godolphin! May Adelina
forget her own calamities in contemplating the felicity of her brother;
and may her beauteous, her benevolent friend, become her sister indeed,
as she has long been the sister of her heart.'
'You will oblige me, Sir,' said Emmeline, feeling that notwithstanding
all her attempts to conceal it the truth trembled in her eyes and
faultered in her accents--'you will oblige me if you say no more of
this.'
'I will obey you, if you will only tell me I may hope.'
'How can I say so, Sir, when so long a time must intervene before I
shall think of fixing myself for life.'
'Yet surely you know, the generous, the candid Miss Mowbray knows,
whether her devoted Godolphin is agreeable to her, or whether, if every
obstacle which exists in her timid imagination were removed, he would be
judged wholly unworthy of pretending to the honour of her hand?'
'Certainly not unworthy,' tremblingly said Emmeline.
'Let me then, thus encouraged, go farther--and ask if I have a place in
your esteem?'
'Do not ask me--indeed I cannot tell--Nay I beg, I entreat,' added she,
trying to disengage her hands from him, 'that you will desist--do not
force me to leave you.'
'Ah! talk not, think not of leaving me; think rather of confirming those
fortunate presages I draw from this lovely timidity. I cannot go till I
know your thoughts of me--till I know what place I hold in that soft
bosom.'
'I think of you as an excellent brother; as a generous and disinterested
friend; for such I have found you; as a man of great good sense, of
noble principles, of exalted honour!'
'As one then,' said Godolphin, vehemently interrupting her, 'not
unworthy of being entrusted with your happiness; who may hope to be
honoured with a deposit so inestimable, as the confidence and tenderness
of that gentle and generous heart?'
'I do indeed think very highly of you.--I cannot, if I would, deny it.'
'And you allow me, then, to go instantly to Lord Montreville?'
'Oh! no! no!--surely nothing I have said implied such a consent.'
Godolphin, however, was still pressing; and at length brought her to
confess, with blushes, and even with tears, her early and long
partiality for him, and her resolution either to be his, or die
unmarried. She found, indeed, all attempts to dissimulate, vain: the
reserve she had forced herself to assume, gave way to her natural
frankness; and having once been induced to make such an acknowledgment
of the state of her heart, she determined to have no longer any secrets
concealed from him who was it's master.
She therefore candidly told him how great was her compassion for Lord
Delamere, and how severe her apprehensions of his rage, resentment and
despair.
He allowed the force of the first; but as to the other, he would not
suppose it a reason for her delaying her marriage.
'Poor Delamere,' said he, 'is of a temper which opposition and
difficulty renders more eager and more obstinate. Yet when you are for
ever out of his reach; as the obstacle will become invincible, he must
yield to necessity. While you remain single, he will still hope. The
greatest kindness, therefore, that you can do him, will be to convince
him that he has nothing to expect from you; and put an end at once to
the uncertainty which tortures him.'
'To drive him to despair? Ah! I know so well the dreadful force of his
passions, and the excesses he is capable of committing when under their
influence, that I dare not, I positively will not, risk it. I love
Delamere as my brother; I love him for the resemblance he is said to
bear to my father. I pity him for the errors which the natural
impetuosity of his temper, inflamed by the unbounded indulgence of his
mother, continually leads him into; and the misfortunes these causes are
so frequently inflicting on him; and should his fatal inclination for
me, be the means of bringing on himself and on his family yet other
miseries, I should never forgive myself; or him by whose means they were
incurred.'
'From me, at least, you have nothing of that sort to apprehend: I truly
pity Delamere; I feel what it must be to have relinquished the woman he
loves; and to find her lost to his hopes, while his passion is
unabated:--be assured my compassion for him will induce me rather to
soothe his unhappiness than to insult him with an ostentatious display
of my enviable fortune. Yet if you suffer me to believe my attachment
not disagreeable to you, how shall I wholly conceal it? how appear as
not _daring_ to avow that, which is the glory and happiness of my life?
and by your being supposed disengaged and indifferent, see you exposed
to the importunities of an infinite number of suitors, who, however
inconsequential they may be to _you_, will torment _me_. I do not know
that I have much of jealousy in my nature; yet I cannot tell how I shall
bear to see Delamere presuming again on your former friendship for
him.--Even the volatile and thoughtless Bellozane has the power to make
me uneasy, when I see him so persuaded of his own merit, and so
confident of success.'
'While you assert that you are but little disposed to jealousy, you are
persuading me that you are extremely prone to it. You know Bellozane can
never have the smallest interest in my heart. But as to Delamere, I am
decided against inflaming his irritable passions, by encouraging an
avowed rival, tho' I will do all I can by other means, to discourage
him. The only condition on which I will continue to see you is, that you
appear no otherwise interested about me, than as the favoured friend of
your sister, your brother, and Lady Westhaven. Press me, therefore, no
farther on the subject, and let us now part.'
'Tell me, first, whether your journey remains fixed for
Thursday?--whether you still hold your generous resolution of going to
Adelina?'
'I do. But I must insist on going alone.'
'And if Bellozane should enquire whither you are going? You see nothing
prevents his following you; and to follow you to East Cliff, he will,
you know, have sufficient excuse. Emmeline, I cannot bear it!--there is
a presumption in his manner, which offends and shocks me; and which,
however you may dislike it, it may not always be in your power to
repress!'
'Surely he need not know that I am going thither.'
It was now, therefore, agreed between them that if Bellozane called upon
her the next day, as he said he intended, she should be denied to him;
and that early on the following morning, which was Thursday, she should
set out for East Cliff, attended by Madelon and Le Limosin.
This arrangement was hardly made when Mrs. Stafford returned, weary and
exhausted from the unpleasant party with which she had passed the day.
With Emmeline's permission (who left the room that she might not hear
it) Godolphin related to Mrs. Stafford the conversation they had held.
It was the only information which had any power to raise her depressed
spirits; and as soon as Emmeline rejoined them, she added her entreaties
to those of Godolphin. They urged her to conquer immediately all those
scruples which divided her from him to whom she had given her heart; and
to put herself into such protection as must at once obviate all the
difficulties she apprehended. But Emmeline still adhered to her
resolution of remaining single, if not 'till she was of age, at least
till her affairs with her uncle were adjusted, and 'till she saw the
unhappy Delamere restored to health and tranquillity. But
notwithstanding this delay, Godolphin, assured of possessing her
affection, left her with an heart which was even oppressed with the
excess of it's own happiness.
[Footnote 39: The Chevalier is below.]
[Footnote 40: How lively and agreeable she is--how much she has the air
of a woman of fashion and of the world.]
[Footnote 41: Not so handsome, perhaps--but there is a something--in
short, I think her charming.]
[Footnote 42: I shall come again to-morrow to offer my homage. Adieu!
fair, cruel nymph! I place my glory in wearing your chains.]