CHAPTER X.
"When nature's blush by custom is wiped off,
And conscience, deaden'd by repeated strokes,
Has into manners naturalized our crimes,
The curse of curses is, our curse to love!"
Young.
Rosilia now looked forward with much solicitude for the period when she should return to the Bower, notwithstanding she dreaded the effects upon her mind of its too great seclusion, and then more particularly, from being deprived of the company of her sister. Yet she wished to escape altogether from the society of those whom she could no longer regard, and whose visits had in consequence become irksome to her.
Her departure from London, however, was not postponed so long as she had expected. Her parents towards the middle of March, took the sudden resolution of repairing to Wales immediately; what could thus have hastened their determination, they did not think proper to reveal to her. Dr. Lovesworth visited at the house more frequently of late, and often regarded her with an expression that marked his interest in her welfare. It seemed as if it had been by his persuasions, her mother had been led to leave London sooner than she had intended.
So precipitately had they made their resolve, that when Sir Howard and Mr. Melliphant were informed of it, the latter felt as if a frightful gulph was opening to entomb his hopes for ever! Driven to the last extremity, where was then his stoicism? In all the real bitterness of woe, he sat like one stupified. At length, having brought himself to decide upon some plan or other, he seized his pen, knowing that now no further opportunity would ever be allowed him for meeting Rosilia alone, his only alternative was to endeavour to express on paper, the violent and contending feelings by which his heart was torn, in language which, if hers was not composed of steel, must effectually melt it. "Pity," thought he, "is nearly allied to love! 'Tis now my sole resource; nothing else is left me but to work upon the soft compassion, the sympathy, the oververflowing sensibility of her nature."
Scarcely had he finished his letter, than it was destroyed; another was written, which shared the same fate. He threw himself back into his chair in despair, ruminating upon his situation. "How poor is language," thought he, "to convey what I would utter." He made a third attempt,—an appeal, strong and energetic, which, though it did not please him, he would nevertheless venture to send;—but how? He thought of an expedient, having no other on which to determine; he sought Sir Howard, who had promised him his assistance, and by such promises had redeemed a considerable portion of his lost money. Thus purchased over to his interests, he could not refuse to assist him.
Having accordingly arranged their plans, he and Sir Howard proceeded together to the De Brookes about that time in the evening when the General was usually absent upon a visit to Dr. Lovesworth. Instead of ascending with him to the drawing-room, he had instructed Sir Howard to remain in the parlour, and to send up the servant with a message to Mrs. De Brooke, requesting a moment's conference with her; she accordingly descended, and while thus engaged, Melliphant, seizing the auspicious moment, bounded up the staircase; but on entering the apartment where he expected to find Rosilia alone, he found himself also in the presence of Dr. Lovesworth. He attempted to conceal his chagrin by an air of unconcern. Rosilia was occupied in the perusal of the "Scottish Minstrel," for the loan of which she was indebted to him. He spoke to her of the work with ease and fluency, pointing out to her observation those passages most worthy of note. Dr. Lovesworth spoke not, but his penetrating look threw upon his words and actions a restraint the most intolerable. The letter he had brought with him, for the purpose of delivering to her, remained in his pocket; he had no possibility of conveying it to her in such a manner as to escape detection from the Doctor.
Mrs. De Brooke having at this period entered, Melliphant made his bow, and hastened to rejoin Sir Howard, who remained below, and who having renounced for ever his pretensions to Rosilia in favour of Melliphant, was determined, if possible, never again to tempt himself, and his pledged faith, by a sight of her, for fear of being induced to revoke it; and since there was no further possibility of procuring to himself the prize he had so long kept in view, it but little concerned him into whose hands she might then fall.
The passion of revenge had long predominated over him; aiming at her destruction, since he was no longer able to obtain her for himself, why should he withhold his assistance to precipitate her into the arms of Melliphant? If revenge was sweet, how could it meet its gratification better, than by plunging her into the power of the dark, designing, hypocritical Melliphant! He to whom he owed so much,—to whom he was so much indebted,—how could he otherwise repay the infinite obligations he had laid him under, by his restoration of the property he had lost to him at play!
"Well," said he, to Melliphant, upon his rejoining him, "have you succeeded to your wishes?"
"By no means," replied the other; "the letter still remains in my pocket. That cursed parson was there, with his sanctified priestly countenance; his dark searching eye, was scarcely once removed from me."
"Dr. Lovesworth, I suppose you mean," said Sir Howard.
"The same; but we must yet endeavour to elude him. Sir Howard, may I ask of you to play the same part again to-morrow? Make any excuse, invent what you will, to engage Mrs. De Brooke below, whilst I make use of my time with her daughter above!"
This arrangement being formed, they betook themselves to their respective homes.
Melliphant was aware that the next day would be a very busy one with the General, it being the last of his stay in town, and necessarily requiring his absence from home. An occasion certainly might offer for his seeing Rosilia alone, if but for a few minutes; and those minutes he determined should not be lost to him.
After a night of extreme irritation, as soon as Melliphant had made a hasty breakfast, he hastened from his home to seek Sir Howard, whose assistance he found to be absolutely essential. Sir Howard was dressing, but the business of the toilet at length over, habited in an elegant morning suit, he surveyed himself in a full-length mirror, alternately looking at himself and Melliphant.
Though vain of his appearance, his form wanted height; Melliphant, if less handsome than Sir Howard, was in his person nicely proportioned; and though in general negligent of his attire, he had then, notwithstanding the extreme state of agitation under which he laboured, dressed himself with the greatest care. Sir Howard thought he had never seen him look to such advantage. They mounted the curricle, in waiting, and drove to Mrs. Belmour's, with the view of making her a party in the plot.
Sir Howard then, as acting openly in concert with Melliphant, was pleased to avail himself of a moment so propitious to advance his former interested designs upon the widow. Charmed to find she had brought him to her feet again, she resolved for a time to detain him there, flattered as she felt herself, and wavering with indecision as to whether she should adopt the title of ladyship or not. This high sounding title of distinction was most agreeable to her ear; but the idea of yielding up the sceptre she now held in her own hand, and placing it in that of one who would doubtless sway with absolute authority, "puzzled the will," and induced her, ere she decided, to reserve the matter for further consideration.
Having been instructed by Melliphant to act according to his desires, they left her to drive to the De Brookes.
"Are the ladies at home?" asked Sir Howard. "My mistress," answered the servant, "is in the drawing-room."
"And her daughter?" inquired Sir Howard.
"She is engaged in her own apartment."
Proceeding to mount the staircase with Melliphant, he whispered as he did so, "I would have remained below had she been with her mother, to give you the desired opportunity; as it is, I will ascend, but shall leave the room as soon as she enters it, and will then send up the message as planned to bring Mrs. De Brooke down to me."
They entered the apartment, where they found Mrs. De Brooke making some arrangements previous to her departure for the country. Sir Howard engaged her in discourse, whilst the heart of Melliphant incessantly fluttered; his ear was constantly on the watch, listening for the light step of Rosilia;—she came not. How precarious was his situation! dreading every second of time, that the intrusion of another might again throw obstacles on his plan.
Glancing his eye towards him, Sir Howard at length, with an air of affected indifference, asked after Miss De Brooke, and whether he might not be gratified by an occasion of bidding her adieu.
"Certainly," replied Mrs. De Brooke, ringing the bell, and desiring the servant who entered to tell her daughter she wished to see her in the drawing-room.
Tortured by doubt and fear, Melliphant had scarcely respired, when, as light dispels darkness, and diffuses gladness around, Rosilia herself appeared. The reflection, that but the next day was to transport her far from London, had, in chasing distrust, with its natural concomitants, restraint and reserve, given a sweet and placid composure to her demeanour. Sir Howard and Melliphant were both before her; the former how changed in manners and in aspect! the usual glow of his countenance being replaced by an almost ashy paleness; and not one word or look of his accustomed gallantry escaping him. Melliphant spoke little, but in his unassuming address and manners seemed, as ever he had been wont to appear, the mild, the worthy, and sensible Melliphant! Little did she imagine how well, by his bland expressions and gentle mien, he could insinuate himself into the favour of the unsuspecting.
As if suddenly recollecting himself, Sir Howard started from his seat.
"I do not intend, Mrs. De Brooke," said he, "to bid farewell at present, but shall call again, when I trust I shall also have the happiness of seeing the General;" and, making a hasty bow, he abruptly left the room.
After a few minutes the servant entered, with a message from him, desiring to see Mrs. De Brooke in the parlour, having something to communicate which had escaped him. Mrs. De Brooke descended; when Melliphant was put into possession of that moment so anxiously desired, so much sought for by him.
He seemed at first like one confounded and bereft of every faculty, but, from the urgent pressure of the interval, he suddenly recovered himself. He first spoke to Rosilia in vindication of himself relative to the works he had recommended to her perusal; when, after some further preliminary remarks, he rose and approached Rosilia, taking a small paper packet from his pocket.
"That," said he, committing it to her lap, "will better explain the motives which led me so unhappily to offend you; may I beseech you to read it, and to extend your clemency towards me in doing so?"
His lip quivered, his countenance varied from white to scarlet; he hastily trod the apartment, and had but time to throw himself into the seat he had quitted, when Mrs. De Brooke re-entered.
"You must prepare yourself, my dear," said she, addressing herself to Rosilia," to go instantly to Mrs. Belmour; she has sent me a note, to desire the favour of our coming down to see her; it appears she is too unwell to leave her room. And she will be so distressed, she says, if we leave town without bidding her farewell."
The heart of Melliphant sank within him; he feared that Mrs. De Brooke intended accompanying her daughter, and that Sir Howard had not properly acted his part.
"I will get ready immediately," answered Rosilia.
"Half an hour will be time enough," added Mrs. De Brooke, again consulting the note; "it is earlier than the time Mrs. Belmour has specified. You must go alone, and make my excuses for not coming with you,—Sir Howard having laid his injunctions upon me not to leave home, being desirous of introducing a friend of his, ere we leave town."
"So far our plot then has well succeeded," thought Melliphant, rising from his seat, and saying aloud, "I am engaged to go to a distant part of the town this morning, and I fear have already exceeded the time appointed, or I should have offered to conduct Miss De Brooke on her intended visit." He then made his bow, and left the room.
Meanwhile, Rosilia in her apartment, previous to making arrangements for her walk, ran her eye over the contents of Melliphant's letter. In the most glowing and impassioned language, it described the long and secret passion with which his heart had been overwhelmed, and was then torn, under the presage of an event the most grievous, that of never more seeing her! Her constant indifference, and a sense of his own unworthiness, had caused him to wrap up his feelings in the deepest folds of his heart; though to stifle and subdue them was impossible. Often when he might have appeared indifferent to all things around him, his soul had been most keenly alive and susceptible to the deepest impressions. He begged of her to forgive him this confession of his love.
"Your scorn," wrote he, "yes, your scorn, I could better bear, than that you should for one moment imagine I could be insensible to your attractions! Alas! you are unacquainted with the heart which adores you, in which your image is engraven, and which, after it ceases to beat, will descend with it to the grave."
He then entered upon a brief vindication of his conduct, relative to the motives which induced him to recommend her works which had appeared to have offended her. "The Sorrows of Werter," because it so fully described a passion of which he was himself the victim. "The Man of Feeling," because in the character of the hero he perceived traits resembling his own, and because the passion by which he was affected, equally affected him, and might in like manner terminate his existence. "La Nouvelle Héloise," because it painted those domestic scenes of which he had sometimes dared to think.
So terminated his epistle, which as Rosilia closed, a profound sigh escaped her. Her bosom panted for the enjoyment of conjugal happiness, with all its tender and endearing ties. She had affections to bestow, but none possessed them, and which had often caused her to feel sensible of a dearth, a vacuity, a species of isolation. Her heart was as it should be, in the order intended by her Creator, its affections, though not meeting with gratification,—an effect arising from the derangements and perversions in human life, a depraved state of society,—yet as such affections were given to form henceforth her paradise, of holy and sacred origin, springing direct from Deity! no shame, no dishonour could be attached to them—consistent were they with the nicest ideas that can be formed of female delicacy, innocence, and chastity!
Rosilia re-perused the letter of Melliphant; again folded it, and consigned it to the table; whilst her heart deeply and inwardly, but with regret, acknowledged Melliphant was not the man upon whom she could repose herself; that she had nought but pity, forgiveness,—perhaps a cold esteem,—to bestow, upon him. Her former disapprobation naturally of itself vanished; the cause in which it originated, she imagined, was now clear, evident, and convincing; no longer enveloped in shade on account of the great caution he had ever made use of, to conceal his attachment from the observation of any but herself.
His want of ingenuousness she might still declaim against, visible in so many concurrent circumstances,—the recommendations of the Nurse, combined with those of Mrs. Belmour; the books he had so assiduously pressed upon her,—it was impossible she could have remained so credulous and blind as not to perceive such a manner of acting involved design; and though she could never link her affections in association with one whose actions sprung not from that perfect integrity she so much reverenced and admired, yet when considered as the resources of love, springing from a natural diffidence of feeling, might she not excuse it?
Men were differently and variously acted upon, and however erroneous the judgment he had formed and the measures he had adopted, they had been such naturally most consonant with his ideas of attaining the object of his pursuit, that of being united to her by the connubial tie; and now that he no longer betrayed himself by hints, but had declared himself openly, how could she with justice condemn him? Had he not paid her the most flattering compliment it was possible to do? Had he not distinguished her from her sex in general; and though she could not admit of his addresses, was she to dismiss him with disdain?
Such being her reasonings, after her past persevering resistance, could it be thought inconsistent with her usual dignity of thought, unblemished purity, and strong virtuous principles, not only to pass a less severe censure upon the former conduct of Melliphant than she had hitherto done, but in a manner even to exculpate him? Such being the case, it may be plain to perceive that the artful and specious Melliphant had in the fullest extent, by his well arranged epistle, effected his wishes. Though unable to elicit a return of affection, his appeal to her sensibility, the pity and benevolence of her feelings, had not been fruitless,—since she was led to blame herself that she felt for him no higher sentiment than esteem.
She was about handing this packet to her mother, when recollecting the half hour must be elapsed, she hastened to put on her bonnet and mantle, and stepped to apprize her mother that she was going to Mrs. Belmour. Swiftly descending the staircase, the street-door closed after her.
As nothing could be more unpleasant to Rosilia than being obliged to leave home unattended by a companion, she walked with a hurried step. The few streets through which she had to pass, were mostly private, but scarcely had she reached that in which her invalid friend resided, than in attempting to pass a crowd that had assembled for some purpose, she was accidentally thrown against a gentleman supported on crutches. Instantly recovering herself, she turned to apologise, when her veil being partly drawn aside by the movement, she perceived a hectic flush in the pale countenance of the stranger, who exclaimed emphatically, "charming girl!"
Rosilia started at the sound, some recollections of the past crossing her mind. Did those words signify mere gallantly? She could not so construe them, as the tenderness and benignity in the look and accent with which they were accompanied, expressed a sentiment too refined for mere common-place gallantry!
She judged rightly; the stranger was a British officer, recently wounded, and of a most interesting appearance. Though by the accident which threw Rosilia against him, he had but indistinctly viewed her countenance, he had seen sufficient to convey to his bosom a secret delight and satisfaction, from having excited the compassionate sympathy of a young and lovely female!
The next moment the crowd dispersed, and the stranger lost sight of her.
Rosilia reached the door of Mrs. Belmour in safety, and on knocking, was admitted by Melliphant himself! Pained at so unexpected a rencontre, supposing him at a distant part of the town, Rosilia's first impulse was to retire, but the door was immediately closed upon her.
With a cautious and respectful air, Melliphant conducted her into a parlour, into which he followed; when, upon offering her a seat, Rosilia said, "I should be glad if Mrs. Belmour was informed of my being here. It is about the time she might expect to see me."
"I have just quitted Mrs. Belmour," returned he, "and it is by her desire that I have shown you in here; she has been truly much indisposed, and wished before she saw you to profit by a short repose; but, if you wish it, I will go and see whether at the present moment she can receive you?"
"I should be much obliged by your doing so," answered Rosilia.
Melliphant left the room under pretence of executing the commission given him, but, after remaining a short time outside the door, re-entered.
"It is as I supposed," said he; "but as I am informed her slumber seems doubtful, you may expect her summons every moment."
Not wishing immediately to betray his feelings, an interval of silence ensued, after which, in low and almost inarticulate sounds, he attempted to describe the grief into which he was plunged by the decision her parents had adopted of so suddenly leaving town. His language by degrees acquired an animated warmth and energy, extremely embarrassing to Rosilia, who found herself thus betrayed into an unfortunate intercourse with him, notwithstanding her late persevering efforts to avoid it: to terminate this, she rose with the intention of ringing for a servant, to learn whether she could yet see Mrs. Belmour.
Melliphant, however, rose at the same time, and, with a look and air of the most impassioned ardour, approached her. Almost unconscious of what she did, Rosilia sunk into her chair again. Why should she refuse to hear Melliphant, now that moment so critical had arrived, in which she felt it incumbent upon her to annihilate for ever his hopes? His attachment for her was now conveyed in expressions that could not be misunderstood; it was not possible for her, therefore, any longer to assume ignorance of their true meaning as she had hitherto done. She prepared herself therefore to inflict upon him one of the severest wounds he had probably ever sustained.
Her bosom throbbed violently; Melliphant perceived it, and mistaking the cause was encouraged. The agitation he witnessed, however, sprung entirely from the peculiar unpleasantness of the situation in which, for the first time in her life, she found herself placed—alone! and left to act unsupported under a circumstance so important.
She spoke—her words were scarcely audible—something like a negative met his ear, but he was not certain. Racked by contending feelings of suspense and passion, Melliphant paced the room, till Rosilia, regaining courage, and wishing to put an end to a scene so distressing, with a voice and manner firm, yet gentle, addressed him: "Mr. Melliphant," said she, "if it will conduce to your satisfaction to learn that you possess my esteem, I will not hesitate to declare it; but as a friend only can I regard you. Believe me, I have no warmer sentiment to bestow; and even if I had I could not indulge it, since it would meet with the decided disapprobation of my family, and never could I bring myself to act in opposition to them."
Having spoken, as she thought sufficient to soften her refusal, she ceased, whilst Melliphant, not offering a reply, with a profound and thoughtful gravity stood contemplating her. The last words, as they sounded upon his ear, seemed to have implied that with the consent of her parents he might have been encouraged.
Concern for the pain she had unavoidably occasioned in delivering the sentiments of her heart, diffused a sweet and pensive languor over her countenance, whilst, unable to raise her eyes, she added,
"I wish that you could induce yourself to think that my quitting London at this period is more fortunate than otherwise. In a little time you will be restored to peace. These impressions will fade; yes, I am assured, by a slight effort, you will be enabled to forget me."
Alas! the artless Rosilia—she was ignorant that such touching language, far from soothing, only augmented to the most desperate energy, the passion of Melliphant.
Giving himself up to the wildest phrenzy, he sought no longer to conceal his feelings. In frantic language, and vehement gestures, he pourtrayed to her the agony of his soul, and the despair to which he was driven. Rosilia, in affright, again precipitately rising, approached to ring the bell for the servant of Mrs. Belmour, but he seized her trembling hand in time to prevent her design.
"Cruel girl!" exclaimed he, his eyes flashing fire, and drawing a pistol from his bosom; "to what extremity do you drive me! Tremble for the consequences," added he, in accents scarcely human; "you drive me to madness; and I am no longer master of my actions! Promise to be mine,—mine only,—my wife! or this moment shall terminate my existence; my corse will lie bleeding at your feet! Promise! say but the word, and you are instantly released?"
No sooner had he uttered these terrific sounds, and was apparently bent upon executing his horrible threat, than two men, of fierce aspect, burst open the door, one of whom advanced precipitately forward, appearing to Rosilia as hirelings employed by Melliphant to assist in bearing her away; she was about plighting irrevocably her faith, when uttering a piercing shriek, all further sense forsook her, and she sunk in a state of insensibility to the ground.
On awaking from a long and deep swoon, Rosilia cast a doubtful glance around her; but, again closing her eyes, a sense of pain, trouble, and anxiety, caused her insensibly to wish it might be permitted her never more to re-open them. As nature, however, operated towards recovery, she felt sensible that some friendly hand had been applying restoratives, and had chafed her temples, and looking up was desirous to learn to whom she was thus indebted. It was Mrs. Belmour, and her attendants, who had recalled her to existence; she sighed, and whilst pressing the hand of Mrs. Belmour, in tokens of acknowledgment, cast around a timid and inquisitive glance.
"My dear young friend," said Mrs. Belmour, the attendants having withdrawn, "compose yourself; you have been very ill, but are now, I hope, recovering; in a short time you will be perfectly yourself again. I have not sent for Mrs. De Brooke, in the fear of alarming her." Rosilia was about replying, but Mrs. Belmour checked her, adding, she would not listen to anything she might say until she was more recovered.
In a few minutes Mrs. Belmour continued: "Those men, who so rudely burst in upon Mr. Melliphant, it was no wonder they alarmed you. Who do you think they were? No other than bailiffs, who, according to the account they give of themselves, had traced my friend here, and to whom there is no possibility of denying admittance. Wherever their object is to be met with, there, without ceremony, regardless of time or place, they force their way. I heard you shriek, my dear girl, and in the alarm I felt for you, forgetting my own illness, ran immediately to your assistance. Melliphant, in commending you to my care, sent for a coach, and was obliged to depart with his troublesome visitors."
Inwardly thanking the Supreme, for such an apparently divine interposition in her favour, Rosilia exclaimed, "Is then Mr. Melliphant imprisoned for debt?"
"So it appears," returned Mrs. Belmour. "I was really totally ignorant that he had cause for apprehending such an event; and I can but believe this unpleasant circumstance to arise from some little embarrassment springing from the generosity of his disposition, and from which, doubtless, his friends will soon liberate him."
The conversation was here interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. De Brooke. The bloom which had so recently faded from Rosilia's cheek, had begun to resume its seat, although the languor of her looks and air could not escape the eye of maternal solicitude; which Mrs. Belmour perceiving, related the circumstance, such as it appeared to her, and which, as the silence of Rosilia confirmed, Mrs, De Brooke did not doubt was the real statement.