CHAPTER XXIV

Another month passed away--every hour, I imbibed, in large draughts, the deceitful poison of hope. A few days before that appointed for the departure of Augustus, I received a visit from Mr Montague, of whose situation, during his confinement, I had made many enquiries, and it was with unaffected pleasure that I beheld him perfectly restored to health. I introduced him to my friends, who congratulated him upon his recovery, and treated him with that polite and cordial hospitality which characterized them. He was on his way to Morton Park, and was particular in his enquiries respecting the late conduct of the lady of the mansion, of which he had heard some confused reports. I could not conceal from him our final separation, but, aware of his inflammable temper, I endeavoured to soften my recital as far as was consistent with truth and justice. It was with difficulty, that our united persuasions induced him to restrain his fiery spirit, which broke out into menaces and execrations. I represented to him--

'That every thing had been already explained; that the affair had now subsided; that a reconciliation was neither probable nor desirable; that any interference, on his part, would only tend to mutual exasperation, from which I must eventually be the sufferer.'

I extorted from him a promise--that, as he was necessitated to meet Mr Morton on business, he would make no allusions to the past--I should be mortified, (I added) by having it supposed, that I stood in need of a _champion_.--Mr Morton had no doubts of the rectitude of my conduct, and it would be barbarous to involve him in a perpetual domestic warfare.

Mr Montague, at the request of Augustus, spent that day, and the next, with us. I thought, I perceived, that he regarded Mr Harley with a scrutinizing eye, and observed my respect for, and attention to, him, with jealous apprehension. Before his departure, he requested half an hour's conversation with me alone, with which request I immediately complied, and withdrew with him into an adjoining compartment. He informed me--

'That he was going to London to pursue his medical studies--that, on his return, his father had proposed to establish him in his profession--that his prospects were very favourable, and that he should esteem himself completely happy if he might, yet, hope to soften my heart in his favour, and to place me in a more assured and tranquil position.'

I breathed a heavy sigh, and sunk into a melancholy reverie.

'Speak to me, Emma,' said he, with impatience, 'and relieve the anxiety I suffer.'

'Alas! What can I say?'

'Say, that you will try to love me, that you will reward my faith and perseverance.'

'Would to God, I could'--I hesitated--my eyes filled with tears--'Go to London,' resumed I; 'a thousand new objects will there quickly obliterate from your remembrance a romantic and ill-fated attachment, to which retirement, and the want of other impression, has given birth, and which owes its strength merely to opposition.'

'As that opposition,' retorted he, 'is the offspring of pride and insensibility--'

I looked at him with a mournful air--'Do not reproach me, Montague, my situation is far more pitiable than yours. _I am, indeed, unhappy_,' --added I, after a pause; 'I, like you, am the victim of a raised, of, I fear, a distempered imagination.'

He eagerly entreated me to explain myself.

'I will not attempt to deceive you--I should accuse myself, were I to preserve any sentiment, however delicate its nature, that might tend to remove your present illusion. It is, I confess, with extreme reluctance--with real pain'--I trembled--my voice faultered, and I felt my colour vary--'that I constrain myself to acknowledge a hopeless, an extravagant'--I stopped, unable to proceed.

Fire flashed from his eyes, he started from his seat, and took two or three hasty strides across the room.

'I understand you, but too well--Augustus Harley shall dispute with me a prize'--

'Stop, Sir, be not unjust--make not an ungenerous return to the confidence I have reposed in you. Respect the violence which, on your account, I have done to my own feelings. I own, that I have not been able to defend my heart against the accomplishments and high qualities of Mr Harley--I respected his virtues and attainments, and, by a too easy transition--at length--_loved his person_. But my tenderness is a secret to all the world but yourself--It has not met with'--a burning blush suffused my cheek--'It has little hope of meeting, a return. To your _honor_ I have confided this cherished _secret_--dare you betray my confidence? I know, you dare not!'

He seemed affected--his mind appeared torn by a variety of conflicting emotions, that struggled for victory--he walked towards me, and again to the door, several times. I approached him--I gave him my hand--

'Adieu, Montague,' said I, in a softened accent--'Be assured of my sympathy--of my esteem--of my best wishes! When you can meet me with calmness, I shall rejoice to see you--_as a friend_. Amidst some excesses, I perceive the seeds of real worth in your character, cultivate them, they may yield a noble harvest. I shall not be forgetful of the distinction you have shewn me, _when almost a deserted orphan_--Once again--farewel, my friend, and--may God bless you!'

I precipitately withdrew my hand from his, and rushed out of the room. I retired to my chamber, and it was some hours before my spirits became sufficiently composed to allow me to rejoin my friends. On meeting them, Mrs Harley mentioned, with some surprize, the abrupt departure of Montague, who had quitted the house, without taking leave of its owners, by whom he had been so politely received.

'He is a fine young man,' added she, 'but appears to be very eccentric.'

Augustus was silent, but fixed his penetrating eyes on my face, with an expression that covered me with confusion.