CHAPTER X.

I know it well, my Lord--and sure the match Were rich and honourable. Besides, the gentleman Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities, Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter. Cannot your Grace win her to fancy him?"

TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

A constant round of dinner parties in quick succession was briskly kept up between d'Aremberg palace and Tyrconnel house. The anxiety of the dowager duchess for the union of her son with the Lady Adelaide was exceedingly great, and unremitting were her attentions and exertions for its accomplishment.

"She would, upon that event," she often declared, "contentedly depart from life, resigned in peace, when once her aged eyes had beheld what her soul had so often longed for, the union of an only son with the lovely and transcendently accomplished daughter of the dear and early friend of her youth." And the fact was, that the Duke and Duchess of Tyrconnel were equally as anxious in their wishes for the union of their daughter with the Duke d'Aremberg, as his noble and venerable mother, looking upon the marriage as "a consummation devoutly to be wished!"

One morning, at an early hour, the Duchess d'Aremberg despatched a note to Lady Adelaide, requesting that she would favour her godmother with a visit, so soon as might prove convenient, at the conclusion of breakfast, to the Lady Adelaide. "She was desirous," as her Grace expressed herself, to speak to her dear god-child upon a subject which was important to her happiness. She requested, therefore, that so soon as it might prove convenient Lady Adelaide would have the goodness to call upon her old friend and godmother."

An answer acquiescive to the above request was returned, and at the appointed time Adelaide waited upon the Duchess d'Aremberg, whom she found seated on a low settee, that which, now varying in shape and elevation, is in our modern days 'yclept a sofa. Before her Grace was placed a small walnut spider-table. Her occupation was knitting a silk purse: for even with the assistance of spectacles, she found it difficult to read. At her feet reposed upon a velvet cushion her blind and favourite lapdog Fidelle, who, hearing a stranger's steps to enter the chamber, awoke from her slumbers, and saluted Adelaide with a volley of barking, as loudly as age and infirmities permitted.

"Welcome, my dear Adelaide, my dearest god-child, whom I now gladly embrace; and happy, too happy should I be to call thee by yet still a dearer name than god-child: I would like to hear thee called daughter and my son's duchess, while I the world forgetting, shall long by the world be forgot. Yes, my dearest child, I fain would call thee by the still fonder name of daughter, the wife of my beloved son, who from the first moment in which he beheld thee, my dear Adelaide, could no longer call his heart his own!"

Adelaide felt dreadfully embarrassed. She reddened, and blushed up to the very eyes; and indeed some time had elapsed before she could muster up resolution enough to speak her sentiments.

As soon as she recovered her presence of mind, she replied: "How deeply grateful to the duchess she felt for her numerous attentions and kindnesses, and above all for the high honour which her Grace had intended for her, but which she must most gratefully, respectfully, but yet most decidedly, decline. She could never--she would never, give her hand, without at the same time that it was in her power to bestow her heart, and that she candidly acknowledged it was not now in her power to give."

The duchess again, however, ineffectually renewed her solicitations, yet with no more success than before, and concluded, as she thought, with the unanswerable climax of her appeal: "Oh, think, my dearest Adelaide, how very agreeable the union would prove to the wishes and desires of the Duke and Duchess of Tyrconnel, which so fully respond to my own!"

Adelaide, as soon as an opportunity presented, promptly availed herself of it, arose, bade the duchess farewell, and departed homeward.

Upon her return she was met by her father, who conducted her into his library, and addressed her thus:--

"D'Aremberg has been here this morning while you were absent, my love, with his mother, and he has made a proposition to us that has met with decided approbation from both your mother and from me. The duke has offered you his hand, and places his coronet and estates, which are princely, Adelaide, at your feet! He is in every respect worthy of you, descended as he is from a brave and noble race of ancestry, from which indeed he has not degenerated. Young, valiant, generous, and noble--and although bred in the camp, yet is his mind stored with the learning of ancient Greece and Rome; he is an adept in modern languages; and as to his personal accomplishments and appearance, fame hath bruited it afar, that fair ladies fully feel their force wherever d'Aremberg presents himself. What says my Adelaide to this proposal?"

"Often and often, my dear father, have I heard you, and my mother likewise, say, 'let no young woman ever give her hand in holy wedlock who cannot also give her heart; if she gives her hand unaccompanied with her heart, from that moment let her date the commencement of a wretched life.' Now, dearest father, I cannot give my heart to the duke, and therefore I consider that it would be dishonourable in me to give my hand alone! I know well that it may be urged against me what and how much I relinquish by this refusal--the elevated rank of a duchess, a splendid fortune, and all the _accessoires_ of high rank. Yes, I abandon all these, most willingly relinquish them all!"

"Ay, sage Adelaide," severely said the duke, "_all_ for a stranger!"

"Not so, my dear father! the Bruce is no stranger. His rank?--he who preserved my father's life amid the rage of battle, surely cannot be a stranger! Gratitude and honour forbid it!--it is impossible. He too is descended from a brave and royal race--the blood of kings pulsates in his veins. I shall be silent on all the noble qualifications he possesses; those that run may read them. And I will not, I confess, blush when I say that I love the man who preserved your valuable life, and that upon him my hopes, my happiness, my future fortune in life depend! I feel, most duly and deeply feel, honoured by the duke's proposal; however, I respectfully, yet decidedly decline it."

"Indeed!!--So young, yet so determined too!"

"I would not, my Lord, be the daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Tyrconnel were I to waver, or act irresolutely."

"I see most clearly, Adelaide, how matters stand--'_All for love, or the world well lost!_' In a word, your heart is pre-engaged. The Bruce!"

"I will not, my dearest father, deceive you. I cannot, I shall not deny it. My heart is truly engaged; and my affections are placed upon one who is every way deserving of them, even were my rank higher than it is."

"Have you ever, my child, observed a settled gloom which at times damps the lustre of the Bruce's eye, and desolates his noble features? This your mother and I have at times observed. You, doubtless, saw it not, too much enamoured to make the discovery. But I have no manner of hesitation in thinking, and declaring as my opinion, that Bruce has a secret sorrow at heart;--and one day indeed, I must observe to you, that your mother discovered him in tears."

"Oh, my dear father, it was only love--retired, sincere, and unpretending love!--Surely I have wept often myself. But then they were rather tears of joy to reflect, when finally your objections and mamma's were overcome, how blest, how happy I should be, united to the Bruce!"

"I perceive, Adelaide, when it is too late, that I have only to condemn myself for the incautious and imprudent introduction of Sir David Bruce."

"Not so, my dear father, I saw and loved him before your introduction--loved him at first sight! The declaration is strange, but it is true. I know not how it was, but yet I know so it is, and I honestly confess my weakness."

"And for this thy love at first sight!--this childish offspring of an enthusiast's brain!--you seem fully resolved to relinquish the noblest connexion in Belgium, of which princesses might be proud--a warrior duke, descended from a long ennobled line of ancestry, his suit denied, and the preference given to a stranger! Monstrous!--not to be endured. Oh, such a damning fact ought not to have been disclosed to a father's ear!"

"Oh, dear Sir, say not so. Not to be disclosed to a father's ear!--Oh, then, pray Sir, to whom should I disclose it, if not to the ear of my parent? Ought I not hope to find in his bosom a friend, a counsellor, adviser, and protector; in a word, a father! You saw, Sir--you must have seen, that I was beloved by the Bruce; and I had not the art to disguise that I met, that I returned his love. Time was, when a child, as I well remember, when you oft carried me on your shoulder, and took me upon your lap: 'My Adelaide,' you then were wont to say, 'you should ever consider your parents as your best friends, the most interested in your welfare beyond all the world besides. Oh, never look upon them as tyrants or oppressors; the tie of affection between a child and its parents, from continued affection, is stronger even than the filial bonds of nature herself. In doubt or distress, therefore, ever look up to and consult your mother and me as your natural protectors and advisers, in weal or in woe, as your sincerest friends, rest you convinced, that you have upon earth; and be sure to take no decided step whatever without consulting us, as you shall ever most cordially receive, and candidly too, the best advice of your mother and me, and always be assured of the warmth of the affection of both your parents.' Now, my dear father, have I forgotten this advice? say rather intently I have treasured up all these sayings in my heart, freshly stamped and impressed, as if it were only yesterday that you had pronounced them. Rest assured, dearest Sir, of this, that I shall never do a clandestine act; and when thus I solemnly pledge myself to my parents never to marry without _their consent_, oh, surely they will not--they could not be so severe or so unjust as to require me to submit without my own!--more especially when my heart is wholly disinclined--nay, and more, dislikes, and wholly refuses assent. Say, should I hold forth my hand, dear and honoured father, when my heart rejects, if not hates! Oh, say would it not be most base and dishonourable; nay, more--it would be--(horrible to reflect on!) it would be lying and prevaricating at the altar of God; and there solemnly, but falsely, declaring that I would 'love, honour, and obey' a man, however high his rank and great his worth, still that I never loved, nor ever can love! No, no--a lie pronounced at the altar of heaven!----I cannot do it!"

"Oh, my dearest Adelaide, indeed thou art my child--flesh of my flesh, and blood of my blood. Believe me then, and despond not, my dearest daughter, no aspiration to add to your rank or to increase your fortune against your consent, shall ever again influence your mother or me. Come then, my beloved, to thy father's arms, and never again shall our opinions clash in collision. I glory in the name of father, when I count that Adelaide is mine own dearest daughter; yea my only one! think then no more, my dearest child, of what has gone past. I promise you solemnly that you shall never again be teased or solicited upon this topic, so think of what has passed but as the idle fantasy of a frightful dream!"

This eventful day appeared to the much-dejected Adelaide as the longest and most wearisome she had witnessed in the annals of her life. Although still she deeply suffered, and succumbed beneath the ban of exile from her native land and home, Adelaide likewise had deeply felt her pride wounded to the very core at the outlawry and attainder of her parents. More perplexing still yet seemed those moments of trial which now had arrived, when Adelaide had to encounter and oppose the opinions of a parent, in which, although completely triumphant, yet still her success gave her pain, but not joy. And although the day ended, as happily it did, in reconciliation, yet it had commenced in the not-to-be-mistaken tone of high and angry displeasure.

Quite overcome, from thus differing so widely in opinion from those she deeply regarded, oppressed with a quick and fevered pulse, and a frame sadly exhausted, Adelaide gladly retired to repose, mentally exclaiming, as she departed to her chamber,

----"Husband! wife! There is some holy mystery in those names, That sure the unmarried cannot understand."