Chapter 3

Still, however, both continued to have followers in abundance. The castle was the constant resort of gay dissipated youths, who, in the good spirits and good cheer of Adrian, enjoyed all they wished or cared for; and who took pains to initiate him in all their vicious courses. He had no real relish for the pleasures of the bottle, but was soon laughed out of his moderation; and rather than be thought wanting in spirit, poor Adrian plunged into excesses for which he had no natural taste, and in which he found little acquired gratification. They thought proper also to find fault with the decorations of the castle, on which Adrian had valued himself, and suggested many useless and expensive alterations. These were immediately ordered, but when the poor tradesmen, who had worked hard to oblige him, made their demands, his choice companions exclaimed in terms of violent wrath against them, assuring him it was extremely insolent in those people to expect payment as soon as their work was done, and that he ought to make them wait his leisure. The fact was, these wicked advisers, who were ignorant of the source from whence his fortune was derived, were afraid, if he paid his debts, he would not have money left to squander upon them. Adrian had not the slightest intention of defrauding any of the persons to whom he was indebted; he felt secure of being able to pay them whenever he chose it, and honestly intended to do so; but too weak in mind to bid defiance to the ridicule of those whom he ought to have despised, he suffered himself to be guided by them. In vain did Gabriel remonstrate; Gabriel had long lost his influence, though his young master's heart was not yet so corrupted as to dismiss the worthy man from his service, which his associates, who called him a tiresome preaching old fellow, would fain have persuaded him to do.

Several gentlemen who wished to pay their addresses to Amaranthe, had applied to Adrian for his interest, and also for information respecting the fortune they were to receive with her. Adrian expressed great indignation at such inquiries being made. He had really, in his heart, formed the most generous intentions towards his sister, but in the enthusiasm with which he first contemplated her beauty, and from the sincere affection he then felt for her, he conceived that she deserved the most disinterested attachment, and refused to make any promise of bestowing a portion upon her.

The first person who paid any serious attention to Amaranthe, was in her opinion, as, generally speaking, I fancy in that of all other young ladies in the same case, the most charming creature in the world. He was followed by a second, and she found him as charming; but when a succession of adorers appeared, she was completely perplexed. Her heart was incapable of making an election, and she began to think it would be very dull to fix upon one, and by that means lose the adulation and flattery of all the others. She therefore received them all alike, and divided her attention and her smiles equally amongst them. Thus the innocent Amaranthe, who was unacquainted with the name of coquetry, soon grew expert in the practice. On her first entrance into society she had formed an intimate acquaintance with Ethelinde, the daughter of a family distinguished for goodness and benevolence, and who lived in a handsome, though not profuse style. Ethelinde had nothing of the dazzling beauty of Amaranthe to boast of, her features were not so perfect, nor her complexion so brilliant, but her countenance was enlightened by intelligence, and her smiles were the smiles of modesty, and sweetness of temper. She was always unstudied and unaffected, and in her person and appearance were combined ease and elegance, with the irresistible charm of the most engaging feminine softness. Her understanding was excellent, and well cultivated, her manners correct, and her heart the seat of virtue and purity. Perfectly free from any meanness of temper, she felt no envy at the beauty of Amaranthe, but was, on the contrary, an unfeigned admirer of it, and eagerly sought her friendship. Amaranthe, who for some time felt gratified and obliged by Ethelinde's early notice, was equally desirous of cultivating her's, but ere many weeks had elapsed, they mutually discovered that they were not companions for each other. Ethelinde grew weary of hearing no other conversation than descriptions of the fine dresses her friend had worn at the different entertainments she had been at, or repetitions of all the nonsense that had been addressed to her there, and Amaranthe thought her deplorably dull and disagreeable, for wanting to talk of any thing else. Ethelinde was both too kind-hearted and too well-bred to appear to shun Amaranthe, and Amaranthe, who felt quite secure of never finding a rival in Ethelinde, continued to call her friend. She began, however, by degrees to suspect that she had been a little mistaken in this satisfactory point. It is true that whenever she appeared in public she was immediately surrounded by all the gentlemen in the room, but she could not avoid observing, that when Ethelinde was there also, many of them would turn to her, and when once engaged in conversation with her, never again quit her side, for that of her friend. This was sufficient ground for her conceiving a rooted dislike to the unassuming and unsuspicious Ethelinde.

An important addition was now made to the society into which Adrian and Amaranthe had been introduced, by the arrival of a young gentleman lately returned from travelling, to take possession of a large estate, and noble mansion annexed to it, in that country. Lionel had every thing that could recommend him to the favour of all to whom he was made known. Handsome and elegant in his person, his mind was stored with information, his taste refined, his conversation instructive and entertaining, and his manners affable and polished. Every father openly courted him as a companion and example to his son, and every mother secretly wished him to become the husband of her daughter.

Lionel was charmed with the brother and sister on his first introduction to them. He liked the frank cordiality of Adrian, and became the professed slave of Amaranthe's beauty. It required no length of time for penetration like Lionel's to discover his error in regard to Adrian; he found he had mistaken vivacity for genius, and frankness of manner for generosity of heart, when in fact his favourite proved unformed and untaught, indifferent to the opinion of all whom he ought to have valued, and given up to idleness and self-indulgence. Such a companion was quitted without any effort of resolution, but the sister's power over him did not yield so easily. Amaranthe's vanity had been too much flattered by such a conquest, for her to endeavour to conceal the satisfaction it afforded her, and the enamoured Lionel was willing to attribute the approbation she evinced, to genuine affection. He confessed himself disappointed in her mental qualities, but he laid all that to the want of education, and the blame upon those who brought her up. He delighted in the thought of instructing and cultivating her mind himself, and dwelt with rapture on the prospect of possessing such a creature, formed exactly to his own taste, and according to his own rules of right. The devoted lover indulged himself, in these pleasing expectations during several interviews that he had with his idol, when not interrupted by the presence of any other candidates for her favour; but when he saw her in company with some of her previous adorers, and observed the evident pleasure and complacency with which she listened to them all by turns, nothing could exceed his surprise and indignation. What! had she no more regard for him than for any of these senseless coxcombs? Were the smiles and attention that had so captivated him to be equally shared by them? This was not to be borne. He could have endured her ignorance, even a fool might be tolerated, but an unfeeling coquette never could. From that moment Amaranthe, with all her beauty, was dismissed from his heart for ever.

During his attendance on Amaranthe, Lionel had often remarked with approbation the meek and unaffected demeanor of Claribel. He had never indeed heard her converse much, but he judged that her silence was owing to timidity, and fancied that under so retired a manner, might be concealed solid sense, taste, and judgment. Her person, though not strikingly handsome, was pleasing, and her temper and disposition appeared to be perfectly amiable. He began therefore to pay her very serious attention, but here again poor Lionel had only to lament his mistake. He found Claribel quite as untutored as her cousins, without a spark more desire of improvement. He was not likely to meet with a repulse from so gentle a creature, but the acquiescence with which she received his assiduities seemed more the result of habitual passiveness than of reciprocal attachment. She betrayed no emotion of pleasure at his approach, or of concern at his departure. She listened to his conversation as he hoped with interest, but when describing what he considered as requisite points to insure happiness and respectability, he could perceive no symptoms of regret that their sentiments so little corresponded, nor could his avowed opinions awaken in her any exertion to render herself more acceptable to him. When he had taken sufficient time to study her character, he decided that the inelegant mirth, and ungoverned vanity of Amaranthe were preferable to the dawdling insipidity of Claribel. After this decision Lionel ceased to be a visitor at the castle.

The pride of Amaranthe had never before experienced so severe a wound. Her consequence was lessened in her own eyes, and she felt that it would be so in those of others, by the desertion of such a lover, for she had sense enough to discern the superiority of Lionel over all her other admirers. She could appreciate his worth, but she could not controul her own too long indulged inclinations, and was still too artless to conceal the wrong bias they had taken. The disappointment had a visible effect upon her temper: she grew peevish, and dissatisfied with every thing about her. She resolved to leave no means untried to regain the heart of Lionel, and the suggestion of a rival in his affection made her absolutely outrageous. She had so little considered Claribel in that light, that she had not deigned to notice Lionel's attention to her, which indeed her vanity whispered was merely a feint to pique herself, and to give him an opportunity of still hovering near her. The gift of the fairy, which had operated so much to Claribel's disadvantage in the opinion of her lover, secured her from sharing the keen mortification of her cousin at his loss.

Some time after this had happened, an invitation was sent to the inhabitants of the castle to an entertainment, which was to consist of a trial of skill in archery in the morning, and a ball in the evening. Adrian, who was now wholly devoted to his ill-chosen companions, had made some engagement he liked better with them, and would not go, and Claribel was confined at home by indisposition. Amaranthe looked forward with the most flattering anticipation to this proving the scene of her triumph, and restoring all her power over Lionel, who she knew was to be a principal guest there. She exhausted all her invention in contriving the most becoming dresses for both occasions, and selected every ornament that she thought would add lustre to her beauty. The anxiously expected morning arrived, and Amaranthe set forth in all her glory. She found a large company assembled in the part of the grounds marked out for the archery, where a tent was erected ingeniously fitted up, and a handsome collation prepared in it. The gentlemen who were to engage in the contest were all properly equipped for the purpose. Amongst the most conspicuous was Lionel, who with his bow in his hand and quiver on his shoulder, was compared by some of the company to the god of love. In a group of ladies opposite to her, Amaranthe discerned Ethelinde very simply attired, but looking so elegant, so unaffectedly good humoured, and desirous to please and be pleased, that no one could behold her without being prepossessed in her favour. She accosted Amaranthe with the utmost kindness, who very coldly accepted her proffered hand, for she felt an inward acknowledgment of superiority that fretted her beyond endurance. Nor could she at all account for it, having settled in her own mind, quite to her satisfaction, that she had never seen any thing half so ugly or so ill dressed.

The game began, and after each candidate for victory had exerted his strength and skill, Lionel was unanimously proclaimed the conqueror. The mistress of the feast had tastefully entwined a wreath of laurel, which stepping forward she, with an appropriate and polite compliment, placed upon the head of Lionel. Amaranthe's heart beat violently, for she felt assured of receiving her accustomed homage, and had ready all her sweetest smiles, and most engaging complaisance, as she saw Lionel approach the spot where she was seated. She found, however, that she might as well have reserved them for a fitter occasion, for he passed her without notice, and with a graceful bow, and look that bespoke respect and esteem, laid his trophy at the feet of Ethelinde. Amaranthe had no strength of mind to command herself on such a trial, nor could she conceal the disappointment and vexation it cost her, and was still more insupportably irritated by the general murmur of approbation that accompanied this action of Lionel. She refused to partake of the refreshments, and went home burning with feelings of resentment against him, and of most malignant animosity towards Ethelinde. Still her vanity was not subdued: she determined that the ball, where she meant to appear in a blaze of glittering ornaments, that she believed would render her beauty irresistible, should repay her for all the mortifications of the morning. She recounted the insult, as she thought fit to call it, that had been offered to her, in terms of bitter wrath to Claribel, who attended her toilet; but comforted herself with the near prospect of recrimination, and declared she should have far more pleasure in crushing the pride of that insolent little ugly moppet Ethelinde, than in captivating the first lord in the land. Claribel listened with patience and pity to the detail of her lamentable misfortunes, and disclosure of her amiable intentions, and at last ventured to say--"But, my dear cousin, are you not afraid of incurring the displeasure of the fairy, by falling into the errors she cautioned you against? You may remember she threatened to withdraw her favour if you were guilty of jealousy and envy, and do you know, I do not think you look near so well as you used to do."

To this remark Amaranthe for some moments answered only by surveying her cousin with a look of ineffable scorn, at last, her lips quivering with anger, she said--"Really, my dainty Claribel, whatever the fairy may do by me, I am afraid her precious gift to you has failed in its effect. I thought _you_, at any rate, were to be secured from the dominion of envy and spite." "Upon my word, cousin," answered Claribel mildly, "I am unconscious of ever having been subject to either. Since the fairy first appeared to us, I never felt less disposed to envy her favours to you than at this moment, and what can there be spiteful in thinking you do not look so well as you used to do?"

Ursula, who was present, assented to the opinion of Claribel. "Indeed, my sweet young lady," said she, "your cousin is right. I have lately observed, with pain and apprehension, your altered looks. I believe the racketing life you have led so long disagrees with you, and am seriously fearful that you will injure your health if you continue it."

It was in vain to urge any arguments against the self-conceit of Amaranthe: that her beauty could be in any degree diminished was a supposition that she would not admit into her thoughts. She added more ornaments to the profusion that already glittered on her person, and doubted not that, with such aids, she should eclipse every belle who would appear at the entertainment. Under this happy persuasion she entered the ball-room, but did not long remain under its cheering influence. No emotion seemed excited by her appearance, no gaze followed her footsteps; those of her former admirers, whom she saw there, rather shunned than approached her, and those who were strangers did not appear to notice her. After she had been seated some little time however, she was in joyful expectation of having her best wishes fulfilled, for she saw Lionel advancing, who, on coming opposite to her, stopped short, and fixed his eyes intently upon her.

Much as her heart fluttered, and her cheeks glowed at this almost unhoped for circumstance, she could not avoid discovering that his looks betrayed more of astonishment than of admiration. Suddenly seeming to recollect himself he slightly bowed, and passing on went up to Ethelinde, whom he immediately engaged for his partner. Fortunately for Amaranthe the bustle and confusion of the dance just then beginning, screened her from the observations that her violent agitation must otherwise have drawn upon her. The dance indeed began, but no one solicited the honour of her fair hand. Amazed, appalled, she knew not what to make of it, at length, rising up, she drew near a party who were in earnest conversation, and did not perceive her. "Is it possible," she heard one of them say, "that that ordinary awkward looking girl, so bedizened with finery, should be the beautiful Amaranthe, of whom I have heard so much, and who my chief purpose in coming hither was to see?" "Believe me," answered another, "what I tell you is true. What has happened to her I cannot conjecture, but I do assure you that not many weeks ago she was the most beautiful creature my eyes ever beheld."

"Oh, oh," said Amaranthe to herself, "now I discern the truth. This is a vile conspiracy amongst my enemies. Some of my wicked rivals, unable to submit to my superior attractions, have planned this scheme on purpose to mortify me, but they shall find themselves defeated in their atrocious designs." She then reared up her head, and stalked along the room with all the stately airs she could assume, but all in vain. Few of the company noticed her at all, and to those who did, she was evidently an object of ridicule. She had not command enough over herself to endure this long with patience. Abruptly quitting the assembly, she returned home in a state of mind and temper that threatened her with insanity. When arrived there she tore off all her gaudy apparel without once looking in the glass, and threw herself into bed, where for some hours she lay tumbling and tossing, but at last fell into a doze, from which she did not awake until mid-day. As soon as she arose she summoned Claribel, that she might give vent to her fury at the detestable events of the evening. Claribel heard the relation of her disgrace with unfeigned concern, but all the time she was speaking looked earnestly at her with marks of excessive surprise. After some hesitation, she, trembling as she spoke, said, "Pray, cousin, have you lately looked at your hyacinth?" The question operated like an electric shock upon Amaranthe. The truth flashed across her mind. She considered a moment, and then rushed to the cabinet where Felicia's pernicious gift was deposited. There indeed she found it with its "bright tint turned to a sickly and disgusting hue." She contemplated it with an aspect of wild despair, then with an effort of desperate resolution flew back to the glass, where, for the first time for many months, she looked at herself with eyes not blinded by vanity. What a spectacle presented itself to her view! Gladly would she have found herself only reduced to her original plainness. Her eyes then, though they sparkled not with the lustre with which the fairy afterwards endowed them, were yet brightened by the vivacity of youth. The texture of her skin was not so delicate, but her cheeks glowed with ruddy health, and though no fascinating dimples accompanied her smiles, they were the playful smiles of innocence. Now, sad reverse! her eyes were dimmed and sunk in her head, her cheeks hollow and of ghastly paleness, and the malevolent passions that had corroded her heart, were traced in deep furrows over her countenance. Almost frozen with horror she uttered a piercing shriek, and fell lifeless on the floor. Claribel affrighted, endeavoured to raise her, and called for assistance, but no one came near her. She thought she heard an unusual disturbance in the castle. Sounds of strange voices speaking loud, trampling of feet, and clapping of doors met her ear, and appeared as if a general uproar prevailed throughout. After she had for some time tried in vain to recover Amaranthe, Ursula hastily entered the apartment, her face pale with terror and dismay, which were increased by seeing the alarming state of her young mistress. Claribel, while she assisted in restoring her, briefly related what had happened, and the poor governess, on hearing it, broke out into bitter lamentations. "Ah! wicked, treacherous fairy," said she, "how have you abused my poor innocent children! would that you had never appeared with your vile gifts, only to betray them to their ruin, and plunge them into a thousand times greater misery than they could have experienced had they never seen you."

Claribel earnestly enquired her meaning, and the cause of the confusion she had heard, and with difficulty, amidst her sobs and moans, gathered what Ursula had herself learned from Gabriel. The creditors of Adrian, hearing of the extravagant style in which he lived, concluded he must soon expend his fortune, and that they should then have no chance of receiving what was due to them. They, therefore, determined to come in a body, and insist upon immediate payment. Adrian, though extremely enraged, resolved, in spite of the opposition of his associates, to satisfy all their demands at once that he might be rid of them. He accordingly repaired to the coffers where his treasures were secured, but on opening found them all empty. He exclaimed loudly that he had been basely robbed; then flew to every chest, desk, or bureau in which he had been used to seek a supply, but found not a single piece of money, or article of value of any kind: while searching the last place of safety he could think of, he was suddenly struck with the sight of his rose, which had fallen from the stalk, and every leaf withered and dead: frantic with despair, he rushed all over the castle proclaiming himself ruined, but hardly sensible of what he said or did. On hearing this, the profligate crew, who had called themselves his friends, speedily made off, nor would stay even to offer him consolation. The creditors incensed at being thus defrauded of their right, thought it best to make themselves what amends they could, and began tearing away all the costly furniture, and seizing upon every thing valuable they could find. The servants too, thinking they should have no other method of being paid, had joined in the general plunder, and were all taking their departure as soon as they could secure what they had pillaged.