CHAPTER XIV.
He brings Earl Osmond to receive my vows. O dreadful change! for Tancred, haughty Osmond. --TANCRED AND SIGISMUNDA.
Mr. Vere, whom long practice of dissimulation had enabled to model hisvery gait and footsteps to aid the purposes of deception, walked alongthe stone passage, and up the first flight of steps towards Miss Vere'sapartment, with the alert, firm, and steady pace of one who is bound,indeed, upon important business, but who entertains no doubt he canterminate his affairs satisfactorily. But when out of hearing of thegentlemen whom he had left, his step became so slow and irresolute, asto correspond with his doubts and his fears. At length he paused in anantechamber to collect his ideas, and form his plan of argument, beforeapproaching his daughter.
"In what more hopeless and inextricable dilemma was ever an unfortunateman involved!" Such was the tenor of his reflections.--"If we now fallto pieces by disunion, there can be little doubt that the governmentwill take my life as the prime agitator of the insurrection. Or, grant Icould stoop to save myself by a hasty submission, am I not, even in thatcase, utterly ruined? I have broken irreconcilably with Ratcliffe, andcan have nothing to expect from that quarter but insult and persecution.I must wander forth an impoverished and dishonoured man, withouteven the means of sustaining life, far less wealth sufficient tocounterbalance the infamy which my countrymen, both those whom Idesert and those whom I join, will attach to the name of the politicalrenegade. It is not to be thought of. And yet, what choice remainsbetween this lot and the ignominious scaffold? Nothing can save me butreconciliation with these men; and, to accomplish this, I have promisedto Langley that Isabella shall marry him ere midnight, and to Mareschal,that she shall do so without compulsion. I have but one remedy betwixtme and ruin--her consent to take a suitor whom she dislikes, upon suchshort notice as would disgust her, even were he a favoured lover--ButI must trust to the romantic generosity of her disposition; and letme paint the necessity of her obedience ever so strongly, I cannotovercharge its reality."
Having finished this sad chain of reflections upon his perilouscondition, he entered his daughter's apartment with every nerve bent upto the support of the argument which he was about to sustain. Though adeceitful and ambitious man, he was not so devoid of natural affectionbut that he was shocked at the part he was about to act, in practisingon the feelings of a dutiful and affectionate child; but therecollections, that, if he succeeded, his daughter would only betrepanned into an advantageous match, and that, if he failed, he himselfwas a lost man, were quite sufficient to drown all scruples.
He found Miss Vere seated by the window of her dressing-room, her headreclining on her hand, and either sunk in slumber, or so deeply engagedin meditation, that she did not hear the noise he made at his entrance.He approached with his features composed to a deep expression of sorrowand sympathy, and, sitting down beside her, solicited her attention byquietly taking her hand, a motion which he did not fail to accompanywith a deep sigh.
"My father!" said Isabella, with a sort of start, which expressed atleast as much fear, as joy or affection.
"Yes, Isabella," said Vere, "your unhappy father, who comes now as apenitent to crave forgiveness of his daughter for an injury done to herin the excess of his affection, and then to take leave of her for ever."
"Sir? Offence to me take leave for ever? What does all this mean?" saidMiss Vere.
"Yes, Isabella, I am serious. But first let me ask you, have you nosuspicion that I may have been privy to the strange chance which befellyou yesterday morning?"
"You, sir?" answered Isabella, stammering between a consciousness thathe had guessed her thoughts justly, and the shame as well as fear whichforbade her to acknowledge a suspicion so degrading and so unnatural.
"Yes!" he continued, "your hesitation confesses that you entertainedsuch an opinion, and I have now the painful task of acknowledging thatyour suspicions have done me no injustice. But listen to my motives.In an evil hour I countenanced the addresses of Sir Frederick Langley,conceiving it impossible that you could have any permanent objections toa match where the advantages were, in most respects, on your side. Ina worse, I entered with him into measures calculated to restore ourbanished monarch, and the independence of my country. He has takenadvantage of my unguarded confidence, and now has my life at hisdisposal."
"Your life, sir?" said Isabella, faintly.
"Yes, Isabella," continued her father, "the life of him who gave life toyou. So soon as I foresaw the excesses into which his headlong passion(for, to do him justice, I believe his unreasonable conduct arises fromexcess of attachment to you) was likely to hurry him, I endeavoured,by finding a plausible pretext for your absence for some weeks, toextricate myself from the dilemma in which I am placed. For this purposeI wished, in case your objections to the match continued insurmountable,to have sent you privately for a few months to the convent of yourmaternal aunt at Paris. By a series of mistakes you have been broughtfrom the place of secrecy and security which I had destined for yourtemporary abode. Fate has baffled my last chance of escape, and I haveonly to give you my blessing, and send you from the castle with Mr.Ratcliffe, who now leaves it; my own fate will soon be decided."
"Good Heaven, sir! can this be possible?" exclaimed Isabella. "O, whywas I freed from the restraint in which you placed me? or why did younot impart your pleasure to me?"
"Think an instant, Isabella. Would you have had me prejudice in youropinion the friend I was most desirous of serving, by communicating toyou the injurious eagerness with which he pursued his object? Could I doso honourably, having promised to assist his suit?--But it is all over,I and Mareschal have made up our minds to die like men; it only remainsto send you from hence under a safe escort."
"Great powers! and is there no remedy?" said the terrified young woman.
"None, my child," answered Vere, gently, "unless one which you would notadvise your father to adopt--to be the first to betray his friends."
"O, no! no!" she answered, abhorrently yet hastily, as if to rejectthe temptation which the alternative presented to her. "But is there noother hope--through flight--through mediation--through supplication?--Iwill bend my knee to Sir Frederick!"
"It would be a fruitless degradation; he is determined on his course,and I am equally resolved to stand the hazard of my fate. On onecondition only he will turn aside from his purpose, and that conditionmy lips shall never utter to you."
"Name it, I conjure you, my dear father!" exclaimed Isabella. "What CANhe ask that we ought not to grant, to prevent the hideous catastrophewith which you are threatened?"
"That, Isabella," said Vere, solemnly, "you shall never know, until yourfather's head has rolled on the bloody scaffold; then, indeed, you willlearn there was one sacrifice by which he might have been saved."
"And why not speak it now?" said Isabella; "do you fear I would flinchfrom the sacrifice of fortune for your preservation? or would youbequeath me the bitter legacy of life-long remorse, so oft as I shallthink that you perished, while there remained one mode of preventing thedreadful misfortune that overhangs you?"
"Then, my child," said Vere, "since you press me to name what I would athousand times rather leave in silence, I must inform you that he willaccept for ransom nothing but your hand in marriage, and that conferredbefore midnight this very evening!"
"This evening, sir?" said the young lady, struck with horror at theproposal--"and to such a man!--A man?--a monster, who could wish to winthe daughter by threatening the life of the father--it is impossible!"
"You say right, my child," answered her father, "it is indeedimpossible; nor have I either the right or the wish to exact such asacrifice--It is the course of nature that the old should die and beforgot, and the young should live and be happy."
"My father die, and his child can save him!--but no--no--my dear father,pardon me, it is impossible; you only wish to guide me to your wishes. Iknow your object is what you think my happiness, and this dreadful taleis only told to influence my
conduct and subdue my scruples."
"My daughter," replied Ellieslaw, in a tone where offended authorityseemed to struggle with parental affection, "my child suspects me ofinventing a false tale to work upon her feelings! Even this I mustbear, and even from this unworthy suspicion I must descend to vindicatemyself. You know the stainless honour of your cousin Mareschal--markwhat I shall write to him, and judge from his answer, if the danger inwhich we stand is not real, and whether I have not used every means toavert it."
He sate down, wrote a few lines hastily, and handed them to Isabella,who, after repeated and painful efforts, cleared her eyes and headsufficiently to discern their purport.
"Dear cousin," said the billet, "I find my daughter, as I expected, indespair at the untimely and premature urgency of Sir Frederick Langley.She cannot even comprehend the peril in which we stand, or how much weare in his power--Use your influence with him, for Heaven's sake, tomodify proposals, to the acceptance of which I cannot, and will not,urge my child against all her own feelings, as well as those of delicacyand propriety, and oblige your loving cousin,--R. V."
In the agitation of the moment, when her swimming eyes and dizzy braincould hardly comprehend the sense of what she looked upon, it is notsurprising that Miss Vere should have omitted to remark that thisletter seemed to rest her scruples rather upon the form and time of theproposed union, than on a rooted dislike to the suitor proposed to her.Mr. Vere rang the bell, and gave the letter to a servant to be deliveredto Mr. Mareschal, and, rising from his chair, continued to traversethe apartment in silence and in great agitation until the answer wasreturned. He glanced it over, and wrung the hand of his daughter as hegave it to her. The tenor was as follows:--
"My dear kinsman, I have already urged the knight on the point youmention, and I find him as fixed as Cheviot. I am truly sorry my faircousin should be pressed to give up any of her maidenly rights. SirFrederick consents, however, to leave the castle with me the instantthe ceremony is performed, and we will raise our followers and begin thefray. Thus there is great hope the bridegroom may be knocked on the headbefore he and the bride can meet again, so Bell has a fair chance to beLady Langley A TRES BON MARCHE. For the rest, I can only say, that ifshe can make up her mind to the alliance at all--it is no time for meremaiden ceremony--my pretty cousin must needs consent to marry in haste,or we shall all repent at leisure, or rather have very little leisureto repent; which is all at present from him who rests your affectionatekinsman,--R. M."
"P.S.--Tell Isabella that I would rather cut the knight's throat afterall, and end the dilemma that way, than see her constrained to marry himagainst her will."
When Isabella had read this letter, it dropped from her hand, and shewould, at the same time, have fallen from her chair, had she not beensupported by her father.
"My God, my child will die!" exclaimed Vere, the feelings of natureovercoming, even in HIS breast, the sentiments of selfish policy; "lookup, Isabella--look up, my child--come what will, you shall not bethe sacrifice--I will fall myself with the consciousness I leave youhappy--My child may weep on my grave, but she shall not--not in thisinstance--reproach my memory." He called a servant.--"Go, bid Ratcliffecome hither directly."
During this interval, Miss Vere became deadly pale, clenched her hands,pressing the palms strongly together, closed her eyes, and drew her lipswith strong compression, as if the severe constraint which she put uponher internal feelings extended even to her muscular organization. Thenraising her head, and drawing in her breath strongly ere she spoke, shesaid, with firmness,--"Father, I consent to the marriage."
"You shall not--you shall not,--my child--my dear child--you shall notembrace certain misery to free me from uncertain danger."
So exclaimed Ellieslaw; and, strange and inconsistent beings that weare! he expressed the real though momentary feelings of his heart.
"Father," repeated Isabella, "I will consent to this marriage."
"No, my child, no--not now at least--we will humble ourselves to obtaindelay from him; and yet, Isabella, could you overcome a dislikewhich has no real foundation, think, in other respects, what amatch!--wealth--rank--importance."
"Father!" reiterated Isabella, "I have consented."
It seemed as if she had lost the power of saying anything else, or evenof varying the phrase which, with such effort, she had compelled herselfto utter.
"Heaven bless thee, my child!--Heaven bless thee!--And it WILL blessthee with riches, with pleasure, with power."
Miss Vere faintly entreated to be left by herself for the rest of theevening.
"But will you not receive Sir Frederick?" said her father, anxiously.
"I will meet him," she replied, "I will meet him--when I must, and whereI must; but spare me now."
"Be it so, my dearest; you shall know no restraint that I can saveyou from. Do not think too hardly of Sir Frederick for this,--it is anexcess of passion."
Isabella waved her hand impatiently.
"Forgive me, my child--I go--Heaven bless thee. At eleven--if you callme not before--at eleven I come to seek you."
When he left Isabella she dropped upon her knees--"Heaven aid meto support the resolution I have taken--Heaven only can--O, poorEarnscliff! who shall comfort him? and with what contempt will hepronounce her name, who listened to him to-day and gave herself toanother at night! But let him despise me--better so than that he shouldknow the truth--let him despise me; if it will but lessen his grief, Ishould feel comfort in the loss of his esteem."
She wept bitterly; attempting in vain, from time to time, to commencethe prayer for which she had sunk on her knees, but unable to calm herspirits sufficiently for the exercise of devotion. As she remained inthis agony of mind, the door of her apartment was slowly opened.