CHAPTER XLVII.
Events come in clusters; and the very same day on which Henry waspublicly recognised as Marquis of Doncaster, Marion received a letterfrom Sir Patrick, announcing his intention immediately to return home.He alluded, with a degree of feeling which surprised and deeplyaffected her, to the death of Sir Arthur, and spoke of happy days yetto come, when he hoped she might, at length, be united to "the manwhom, above all others on earth, he esteemed the most, and liked thebest." In reading these words, Marion felt a pang of melancholysympathy for her brother, believing, of course, that they alluded tohis friend Captain De Crespigny; and deeply did she deplore the griefhe was about to suffer, when first he should hear of that appallingevent which had filled every heart with grief and consternation.
It was on a gloomy evening in the month of February, when the sun,having all day failed to disperse a thick fog, had sunk into darkness,that Marion, expecting her brother's return, used all the littleingenuity of affection to render his reception cheerful. The fireblazed brightly; the tea urn was on the table, and she herself hadtaken more than usual pains with her dress, besides having decked herface with unwonted smiles for the occasion.
When Sir Patrick at last arrived, there was a tone of unusual kindnessin his manner to both Agnes and Marion, who were surprised by thegenuine warmth with which he expressed his happiness on seeing themagain, and at the subdued melancholy in his voice. The fatal news ofCaptain De Crespigny's death had reached him on the road, and thereappeared a profound solemnity in his manner when he alluded to it, moreaffecting than the loudest expressions of grief; but it was a subjecton which he seemed incapable of speaking; while Marion scarcely thoughta human countenance could have expressed so much anguish. While Agnespreserved an almost statue-like silence, Marion took her brother's handin her own, and endeavored, by every affectionate endearment, totestify her sympathy, till at length he clasped her in his arms,saying, in accents almost choked with agitation, "Your sisterlykindness, Marion, has survived all my neglect and misconduct. Let methank you for that; but could it survive if I were to tell you of acruel and heartless treachery?"
"It can survive anything--everything," whispered Marion, earnestly."Say nothing that distresses you, Patrick! Never think of it again!"
"I must not only think of it for ever, Marion, but show my regret bytelling you all," replied he, in a tone of deep, concentrated feeling."But not now, Marion; not yet! I could not bear to do so in the fulltide of our happiness at meeting. You deserve to be loved as you areloved by one who is every way worthy of you."
The color rushed over Marion's countenance, and vanished as rapidlyagain; but her eyes, which had been fixed on those of Sir Patrick withsparkling affection, now fell sadly to the ground, while she made noreply, evidently trying to avoid her brother's notice, who seemed benton reading her thoughts.
"Marion," said he, gravely, "to what do you attribute RichardGranville's strange and unjustifiable silence?"
"It is strange, Patrick; but I could pledge my life it is notunjustifiable," replied Marion, in tremulous accents. "When I gave himmy heart, it was with a perfect conviction that he is incapable ofdeceit or dishonor, and I believe him so still. I trust him as I wouldbe trusted myself. In this world or in another we shall understand eachother again."
Marion's features kindled as she spoke; bright and beautiful tearsgathered in her eyes; her manner became more energetic; her whole heartseemed on her lips, and the deep melody of her voice was eloquenceitself, as she advocated the cause of her absent lover.
"But surely, Marion," said Agnes, turning round, as she was about toleave the room, "there are pen, ink, and paper to be found on theContinent, if he pleased to use them."
"Yes," added Sir Patrick; "and if Granville ever returns, Marion, youwill of course receive him coldly, give yourself all the airs ofinjured merit, and, in short, treat him from the very first as aflagrant criminal."
"Not at all, Patrick!" replied Marion, surprised at the lurking smileshe traced on her brother's countenance. "I place no dependance on myown attractions, or I might indeed despair; but my reliance rests onthe consistency and generosity of Richard himself, in which I cannot bemistaken. The features of his character, like the features of hiscountenance, are unalterable; and I could not believe in his identity,if he were deficient in honor and truth. Even at the worst, Patrick,"added Marion, while her glittering, wet eye-lashes drooped on herglowing cheek, "where we love it is a pleasure to forgive; but myconfidence as yet is unshaken."
"Then, Marion, you deserve to be happy--happier than I ever was, orever shall be; and never, believe me, had any one a brighter lot inprospect. Those tears have no business there! They will soon, I hope,be strangers to your eyes!"
There was a look of joyous emotion in the countenance of Sir Patrick ashe spoke, which made the heart of Marion leap to her very lips withagitation, while in broken and hurried accents he continued,
"I did intend to give you a long and painful explanation of myconduct--to tell you of my recent dangerous illness abroad, duringwhich I was attended by the most inestimable of friends; to describehow the slow progress of my recovery left me leisure for the counselsand conversation of the best of men; to say how the death of DeCrespigny has overawed and afflicted me, taking the gloss from my wholefuture existence on earth; and to tell you that the loss of ClaraGranville, and the last scene we had together, have put a climax to theentire change of all my thoughts and feelings in life. I am returned,Marion, now, to do justice wherever it is due; by years of carefulrestriction to discharge the uttermost farthing of my debts, and tomake two persons happy who deserve it."
A bright, quick flush passed across Marion's cheek, and a bewilderinghope darted into her mind, when Sir Patrick smilingly added, with athrilling tremor still in his voice,
"A stranger is waiting for me below, who can explain all better thanmyself. May he come up? I am too much agitated to be distinct!"
Scarcely had her brother left the room, before Marion heard a light,springing step on the stairs. The door was flung open; and if joy everkilled, it would have been now, when Marion, with almost incredulousastonishment, again beheld Richard Granville; his features lighted upby the smile of former days; his eyes radiant with joy, and hiscountenance almost convulsed with agitation, while, giving anexclamation of rapturous delight, he presented himself before her.
If Marion's life had depended on her speaking a word, she could not forsome moments have uttered it; but there is a silent eloquence in deepemotion, more powerful than language; and, giddy with excessiveastonishment, tears and smiles seemed to struggle for the mastery inher countenance, like the summer light and shade upon an aspen tree.
All was mutual confidence, and mutual affection now, while RichardGranville rapidly, and almost incoherently, conveyed to Marion's heartthe surpassing felicity of his own, telling her how the long hours ofhis absence had each and all of them been counted over withunimaginable impatience; that, she had never been a moment absent fromhis thoughts, and that, having seized the first instant to hasten tohis happiness, he had now returned to claim his promised bride, and inthe sight of heaven and earth, to dedicate to her all his earthlyaffections--to make her his own forever.
With a deep sob of gratified emotion, Marion listened; her feelingswere strained to the uttermost; but she frankly received all his joyfulprotestations of unchanged and unchangeable attachment, and attemptednot to conceal her own, saying, in low, tremulous accents, as soon asshe could command her voice to speak,--
"I think the more of myself for being loved by you. It will take alife-time to testify how deeply I value your affection."
"My happiness would be nothing if it could be expressed in words,"continued Richard, in accents of the deepest tenderness. "But letfuture years, my Marion, speak for me. It is said that no man wouldwillingly consent to live his life exactly over again; but we shall beso happy in each other, that nothing would make us hesitate except thehope of a still better life to come."
; "And now," said Sir Patrick, entering, with some degree of his oldvivacity restored, "your sails are full set, with a brisk breeze, forthe haven of happiness! May you both obtain everything you have beendisappointed of in former years, and find nothing left to wish for inthe future."
"That would be misery, rather than happiness," replied Mr. Granville,smiling. "No, Dunbar, for myself, and for my Marion, my still dearerself, I trust that we shall contentedly see the stream of events flowon, in sunshine or shadow, without a wish to change them. We shall beone on earth, one in heaven, and one throughout eternity, confiding ineach other with entire and unalterable affection; while every action ofour lives and every thought of our hearts shall be consecrated byimplicit obedience to that Beneficent Being who has bestowed on us somuch."
Our mutual bond of faith and truth No time can disengage; Those blessings of our early youth Shall cheer our latest age.
Those ills that wait on all below Shall ne'er be felt by me; Or gently felt, and only so, As being shar'd with thee.
COWPER.
THE END.
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