CHAP. VI.
Rhodophil was about one-and-twenty, and Ferdinand in his eighteenth year, when walking one evening in the suburbs of Baden, they met an elderly woman, plainly but cleanly dressed, with a young one by her side, whose uncommon beauty instantly attracted the eyes of both the brothers. By mutual consent they turned and followed her; they observed them enter a mean-looking house correspondent to their appearance:—Both were eager to make inquiries, and were informed by a neighbour that the woman's name was Dupree, and the young girl, who was her niece, was called Claudina; they had only resided a few months in the town, and appeared to have but a very slender income. With this intelligence they returned home, both thoughtful, and each suspecting the sentiments of the other, which was, a desire of seeing and knowing a little more of this lovely Claudina.
When they met next morning, Rhodophil began to talk of the "pretty girl" they had seen; but in a lively manner, and in a tone of indifference that surprised Ferdinand, whose young heart had received a first impression, and who could not mention her but in terms of rapture that drew upon him the pleasantry of his brother. Ferdinand, incapable of art or dissimulation, openly avowed his intention of going in search of another view of his charmer; his brother laughed at his folly, and said he should take a different route.
Not to dwell too long on this part of the story, we shall only say, that Ferdinand found means to get acquainted with this young woman, and very soon engaged his heart to her, and acquired no small share of her's.—Mean time overtures were made to the woman by a friend of her's to sell her niece, or in other words, she was offered a handsome sum for herself, and a settlement on Claudina by a young Nobleman. Dupree, mercenary and poor, could not withstand the temptation; she endeavoured, to the utmost of her skill, to seduce the mind of her niece, by a display of all the advantages such an attachment would secure to her; but Claudina had the best security for the preservation of her honor, which was her love for Ferdinand, and the hope that, though not an elder brother, he would have a handsome fortune, and that his affection for her was an honourable one.—Those splendid overtures were therefore firmly rejected, though often renewed, and her lover felt himself under additional ties of love and obligation to a young woman, whose affection and good principles had stood the test of every temptation.
Mean time his mind could not be easy; he had every reason to imagine his father never would approve of a connexion so mean and unsuitable to the future views he had for his establishment; he dared not mention his attachment, and hourly dreaded the discovery and its consequences. His brother often rallied him upon his passion, and at first persuaded him greatly against the indulgence of a love so improper; but finding Ferdinand inflexibly determined to persevere, he had for some time ceased to speak on the subject. This young man grew daily more enamoured, and every moment more vexed and mortified at her humble situation, and the dangers to which she was exposed by her residence with an unprincipled woman. He had her taught privately several branches of education, and was charmed with her docility and the progress she made in her studies; every hour his love increased, and he determined to marry her privately.
One day walking in the garden, in a very pensive mood, Rhodophil joined him, and affectionately inquired into the cause of his melancholy.—Ferdinand, whose love for Claudina had by no means lessened his affections towards his brother, after a little hesitation, confessed the cause of his embarrassment, his resolution to wed Claudina, and the dread he entertained of displeasing so good a father, whom he dearly loved and honoured.
"If your resolution is taken," replied Rhodophil, "it would be a waste of time to enter into any arguments with you on the subject; the disadvantages attending it must be as obvious to yourself as to me. Your father never will give his consent, and if you do marry her, you must keep the affair secret; your father cannot live for ever."
This last observation shocked Ferdinand extremely.—"Good God!" exclaimed he, "shall I enter into an union where my only chance of happiness must arise from the death of a parent so tender and respectable? Perish the thought! No, let me be miserable from the disappointment of my wishes, but never let me be criminal, detestable in my own eyes." Rhodophil observed, that he was more hurt than was necessary at the hint he had dropped, which meant nothing more than a natural conclusion: "However," added he, 'to prove the sincerity of my fraternal affection, marry Claudina; I will add to your allowance by a portion of mine; you will then be enabled to maintain her, and by removing her to a different quarter of the town may elude all suspicion and observation."
How unequal was the prudence and resolution of eighteen to withstand the incitements of passion, or decline the indulgence of it when sanctioned by a brother! Ferdinand embraced his generous brother with transport, and, blind to all the ill effects that might be dreaded from an union so rash and unsuitable, he no longer hesitated, but the following day he informed Claudina and her aunt of his resolution, and for the first time asked, "Who, and what were her parents?" The aunt answered, "That her father, in early life, had been in the army, an officer; but dying soon after her birth, her mother had only a small pension to live on, which poorly supported her for about three years, when she also died, leaving Claudina to her care; that she (Dupree) having only a hundred crowns a year to live on, had remained in the country until this last year, when she thought it best to remove near the city, in the hope that her niece's beauty would get her a good husband." With this account Ferdinand was satisfied, and not a little pleased to find his mistress owed her birth to an officer, though she was poor and friendless. In a very few days he was united to his Claudina, and removed her to another quarter in the suburbs, where she lived decently, if not elegantly, and having an affectionate heart, and a good understanding, she was grateful for the advantages Ferdinand's love procured for her, without extending her wishes beyond them.
He had been married about six months; his wife promised an increase to their family, when one morning his father, who had appeared uncommonly grave at breakfast, ordered Ferdinand to attend him to the library. He obeyed; the manner, more than the words, struck him, and with an agitated heart he appeared before him.
"Ferdinand," said the Count, in a tone of solemnity, "I ardently wish to see you settled in life, an opportunity now offers not to be rejected. Count Benhorff has offered to give you his daughter, the Lady Amelia, whose large fortune and personal charms render the alliance most truly desirable, and entirely unobjectionable." He stopped, Ferdinand was thunderstruck; this was an occurrence that he had never once dreamt of. He hesitated, faltered, at length muttered out something about 'the impropriety of being married before his brother."
"That is not your business, Sir," resumed the Count; "your brother has other views; Count Benhorff and his daughter have done you the honour of a distinguished preference, and it only remains for you to receive my orders, and I should suppose, to comply with them immediately with gratitude and transport, suitable to an offer so splendid, and so much superior to my expectations of settling you in life; as you well know you have only a share of my personal fortune to expect." "With whatever share you have the goodness to appropriate for me, Sir, I hope I shall be content and thankful, nor meanly wish to aggrandize myself by marriage without I could love and honour the Lady. Pardon me, Sir," added he, gathering a little more courage, "pardon me, therefore, if I do not so readily accord to your wishes as you may expect, but never will I marry a woman I cannot love."
"And what, Sir," said the Count, kindling into a rage, "should prevent you from loving the Lady Amelia, who has a hundred adorers, though she has condescended to single you out, undeserving as I fear you are of the distinction. Tell me, Sir, what are the obstacles to your being attached to so charming a young woman?" Never did Ferdinand experience equal perplexity to that moment; he trembled, and his emotions scarcely permitted him to speak.
"I have no knowledge of her temper; her———."
"Say no more," cried the Count, interrupting him; "no more equivocation, I see I have not been misinformed, you have formed another attachment; say, tell me, is it not so?"
"I am above uttering a falsehood," answered Ferdinand; "I own it, Sir, there is a young woman———."
"Foolish, imprudent boy!" exclaimed the Count, in a violent rage; "your youth hath been seduced into an intrigue with an artful wanton."
"By Heavens! No," cried Ferdinand, "I have not been seduced, nor is she a wanton."
"Hold, insolent!" returned the Count, "and hear me; if you have formed an imprudent connexion, break it off, I will enable you to give a handsome sum, and have done with it. Prepare to carry your addresses to the Lady Amelia; these are my absolute commands, which I expect you to obey, or you are no longer a son of mine."
"Oh! my father," cried Ferdinand,—"reverse that cruel sentence, command not impossibilities."
"I do not," answered the Count, a little softened; "an affair of gallantry has nothing to do with an engagement of honour, an union for life. You are young, and have been drawn away by your passions; but decency forbids you to continue your attachment whilst you are soliciting the Lady Amelia's hand: I therefore request you, Ferdinand, I will not command, I desire you to dissolve your present connexion, and let me have the happiness of seeing you established in my life-time. You are the only pledge left me of a too tender affection: Your angel mother died in giving you life; let not that life so dearly purchased render my latter days unhappy; let me meet her in the realms above with the conscious delight of having completed the happiness of her child."
The Count's voice faltered as he pronounced the last words. Ferdinand was in agonies; he threw himself at his father's feet:—"Spare me, spare your wretched son; oh! Sir, happiness and Lady Amelia cannot be joined with me; happiness consists not in titles, grandeur, or riches: I am moderate in my wishes; my brother will aggrandize your house."
"And you," said the Count, interrupting him with fury, "you resolve to disgrace it. Just Heaven! how am I punished for my errors in the person of my darling son! Yes, you are my punisher; you have chosen to be the instrument of vengeance, to retaliate upon your father, and hasten the few short days that are allotted to me, full of sorrow and despair: But hear me, once more I command you to promise me that you will give up your present infatuation, that you will quit the society of that woman who has seduced you from your duty. Speak, say you will obey me."
"I dare not deceive my father," replied Ferdinand, with grief and horror in his countenance; "I dare not forfeit my integrity."
"You persist then in your folly, in your crimes," exclaimed the other, in a rage little short of madness; 'then mark my words: The allowance I have given you, I shall resume as long as you resist my will; the creature who has bewitched you I will punish, and if you dare to form any legal sacred connexion with her, my everlasting curses attend you both!"
"Stop, oh! stop," cried the frantic Ferdinand, "she is my wife!" The Count dropped into a chair.
"Wretch! unnatural wretch! what hast thou done?" said he, in a tone of horror, "thou art now an alien to my blood. I recall not what I have denounced; my curses are registered above; go, leave me, see me no more; dare not to enter any mansion where I reside, for I solemnly protest this is the last time I will behold thee!"—He rose from his chair, withdrew to a closet, and rang the bell. Orders were given to carry every thing belonging to Ferdinand out of the Castle that instant, and never to admit him more within its gates.