CHAPTER I.
_In Which Captain Armine Proves Himself a Complete Tactician_.
THE midnight moon flung its broad beams over the glades and avenues ofArmine, as Ferdinand, riding Miss Temple's horse, re-entered the park.His countenance was paler than the spectral light that guided him on hisway. He looked little like a pledged and triumphant lover; but in hiscontracted brow and compressed lip might be read the determinationof his soul. There was no longer a contest between poverty and pride,between the maintenance or destruction of his ancient house, between hisold engagement and his present passion; that was past. Henrietta Templewas the light in the pharos amid all his stormy fortunes; thither hedirected all the energies of his being; and to gain that port, or sink,was his unflinching resolution.
It was deep in the night before he again beheld the towers and turretsof his castle, and the ivy-covered fragment of the old Place seemedto sleep in peace under its protecting influence. A wild and beautifulevent had happened since last he quitted those ancient walls. And whatwould be its influence upon them? But it is not for the passionate loverto moralise. For him, the regrets of the past and the chances of thefuture are alike lost in the ravishing and absorbing present. For alover that has but just secured the object of his long and tumultuoushopes is as a diver who has just plucked a jewel from the bed of somerare sea. Panting and wild he lies upon the beach, and the gem that heclutches is the sole idea that engrosses his existence.
Ferdinand is within his little chamber, that little chamber where hismother had bid him so passionate a farewell. Ah! he loves another womanbetter than his mother now. Nay, even a feeling of embarrassment andpain is associated with the recollection of that fond and elegant being,whom he had recognised once as the model of all feminine perfection, andwho had been to him so gentle and so devoted. He drives his mother fromhis thoughts. It is of another voice that he now muses; it is thememory of another's glance that touches his eager heart. He falls intoa reverie; the passionate past is acted again before him; in hisglittering eye and the rapid play of his features may be traced thetumult of his soul. A doubt crosses his brow. Is he indeed so happy;is it not all a dream? He takes from his bosom the handkerchief ofHenrietta Temple. He recognises upon it her magical initials, worked inher own fine dark hair. A smile of triumphant certainty irradiateshis countenance, as he rapidly presses the memorial to his lips, andimprints upon it a thousand kisses: and holding this cherished testimonyof his felicity to his heart, sleep at length descended upon theexhausted frame of Ferdinand Armine.
But the night that brought dreams to Ferdinand Armine brought him notvisions more marvellous and magical than his waking life. He who loveslives in an ecstatic trance. The world that surrounds him is not theworld of working man: it is fairy land. He is not of the same order asthe labouring myriads on which he seems to tread. They are to him but aswarm of humble-minded and humble-mannered insects. For him, the humanspecies is represented by a single individual, and of her he makes anidol. All that is bright and rare is but invented and devised to adornand please her. Flowers for her were made so sweet and birds so musical.All nature seems to bear an intimate relation to the being we adore; andas to us life would now appear intolerable, a burthen of insupportableand wearying toil, without this transcendent sympathy, so we cannothelp fancying that were its sweet and subtle origin herself to quitthis inspired scene, the universe itself would not be unconscious of itsdeprivation, and somewhat of the world's lustre might be missed even bythe most callous.
The morning burst as beautiful as such love. A rosy tint suffused thesoft and tremulous sky, and tinted with a delicate hue the tall treesand the wide lawns, freshened with the light and vanishing dew. The airwas vocal with a thousand songs; all was bright and clear, cheerful andgolden. Ferdinand awoke from delicious dreams, and gazed upon the scenethat responded to his own bright and glad emotions, and inhaled thebalmy air, ethereal as his own soul. Love, that can illumine the darkhovel and the dismal garret, that sheds a ray of enchanting lightover the close and busy city, seems to mount with a lighter and moreglittering pinion in an atmosphere as brilliant as its own plumes.Fortunate the youth, the romance of whose existence is placed in a scenebefitting its fair and marvellous career; fortunate the passion that isbreathed in palaces, amid the ennobling creations of surrounding art,and greets the object of its fond solicitude amid perfumed gardens,and in the shade of green and silent woods! Whatever may be the harshercourse of his career, however the cold world may cast its dark shadowsupon his future path, he may yet consider himself thrice blessed to whomthis graceful destiny has fallen, and amid the storms and troubles ofafter-life may look back to these hours, fair as the dawn, beautiful asthe twilight, with solace and satisfaction. Disappointment may witherup his energies, oppression may bruise his spirit; but baulked, daunted,deserted, crushed, lone where once all was sympathy, gloomy where allwas light, still he has not lived in vain.
Business, however, rises with the sun. The morning brings cares, andalthough with rebraced energies and renovated strength, then is theseason that we are best qualified to struggle with the harassing brood,still Ferdinand Armine, the involved son of a ruined race, seldom rosefrom his couch, seldom recalled consciousness after repose, without apang. Nor was there indeed magic withal, in the sweet spell that nowbound him, to preserve him, from this black invasion. Anxiety was oneof the ingredients of the charm. He might have forgotten his own brokenfortunes, his audacious and sanguine spirit might have built up manya castle for the future, as brave as that of Armine; but the veryinspiring recollection of Henrietta Temple, the very remembrance ofthe past and triumphant eve, only the more forced upon his memory theconviction that he was, at this moment, engaged also to another, andbound to be married to two women.
Something must be done; Miss Grandison might arrive this very day. Itwas an improbable incident, but still it might occur. While he wasthus musing, his servant brought him his letters, which had arrived thepreceding day, letters from his mother and Katherine, _his_ Katherine.They brought present relief. The invalid had not amended; theirmovements were still uncertain. Katherine, 'his own Kate,' expressedeven a faint fond wish that he would return. His resolution was taken inan instant. He decided with the prescient promptitude of one who hashis dearest interests at stake. He wrote to Katherine that he wouldinstantly fly to her, only that he daily expected his attendance wouldbe required in town, on military business of urgent importance to theirhappiness. This might, this must, necessarily delay their meeting. Themoment he received his summons to attend the Horse Guards, he shouldhurry off. In the meantime, she was to write to him here; and at allevents not to quit Bath for Armine, without giving him a notice ofseveral days. Having despatched this letter and another to his mother,Ferdinand repaired to the tower to communicate to Glastonbury thenecessity of his immediate departure for London, but he also assuredthat good old man of his brief visit to that city. The pang of thisunexpected departure was softened by the positive promise of returningin a very few days, and returning with his family.
Having made these arrangements, Ferdinand now felt that, come whatmight, he had at least secured for himself a certain period of unbrokenbliss. He had a faithful servant, an Italian, in whose discretion hehad justly unlimited confidence. To him Ferdinand intrusted the duty ofbringing, each day, his letters to his retreat, which he had fixed uponshould be that same picturesque farm-house, in whose friendly porch hehad found the preceding day such a hospitable shelter, and where hehad experienced that charming adventure which now rather delighted thanperplexed him.