Chapter X

Emmeline, in the mean time, remained in great uneasiness at Woodfield. Delamere, on his first arrival in town, wrote a short and confused note; by which she only learned that Lady Montreville was alive. After some days she received the following letter from Augusta Delamere.

'I will now try, my dearest Emmeline, to give you an account of
what has passed here since my brother's arrival.

'My mother is happily better; knows every body, and speaks more
distinctly; her fits return less frequently; and upon the whole, the
physicians give us hopes of her recovery, but very little that she
will ever be restored to the use of the arm which is contracted.

'On Friday, in an interval of her fits, Sir Hugh Cathcart and Dr.
Gardner, her physicians, proposed that she should see my brother, of
whose being living nothing we could any of us say could convince
her. She repeated to Dr. Gardner, who staid with her after the other
went, that she was deceived.

'He assured her that she was deceived in nothing but in her sudden
and unhappy prepossession; for that Mr. Delamere had never been in
the least danger, and was actually in perfect health.

'"He is alive!" cried my mother, mournfully--"I thank God he is
alive; but he knows my illness, and I do not see him--Ah! it is too
certain I have lost my son!"

'"You have not been able to see him, my dear madam; but he came up
as soon as he heard of your situation, and now waits your commands
at Colonel Fitz-Edward's lodgings.--Do you wish to see him?"

'"I do! I do wish to see him! Oh! let him come!"

'The agitation of her mind, however, brought on almost instantly a
return of the disorder; and before my brother's arrival, she was
insensible.

'Her distorted features; her hands contracted, her eyes glazed and
fixed, her livid complexion, and the agonizing expression of her
countenance, were at their height when Delamere was desired to go
into the room: my father believed that the sight of his mother in
such a situation could not but affect the feelings of her son.

'It did indeed affect him! He stood a moment looking at her in
silent terror; then, as if suddenly recollecting that he had been
the cause of this dreadful alteration, he turned away, clasped his
hands together, and burst into tears.

'My mother neither saw him or heard his loud sobs. My sister
looked at him reproachfully; and apparently to escape from her, he
came to me, and taking my hand, kissed it, and asked how long this
melancholy scene would last?

'The physician, who heard the question, said the fit was going
off. It did so in a few minutes. She sighed deeply; and seeing the
doctor still sitting by her, she asked if he would still perform his
promise, and let her see her son?

'At these words, Delamere stepped forward, and threw himself on
his knees by the bed side. He wept aloud; and eagerly kissed his
mother's hands, which he bathed in tears.

'She looked at him with an expression to which no description can
do justice; but unable to speak, she seemed struggling to explain
herself; and the physician, fearful of such agitation, said--"There,
madam, is Mr. Delamere; not only alive, but willing, I am persuaded,
to give you, in regard to his future conduct, any assurances that
you require to tranquillise your mind."

'"No!" said she, sighing--"that Delamere is living, I thank
heaven!--but for the rest--I have no hopes."

'"For the rest," resumed the doctor, "he will promise any thing if
you will only make yourself easy."

'At this moment my Lord entered--"You see, Sir," said he sternly
to Delamere, whom he had not seen since his arrival in London--"you
see to what extremity your madness has reduced your mother."

'Delamere, still on his knees, looked sorrowfully up, as if to
enquire what reparation he could make?

'My father, appearing to understand the question, said--"If you
would not be indeed a parricide, shew Lady Montreville that you have
a sense of your errors, and will give her no farther uneasiness."

'"Do, Frederic," cried my sister.

'"In what way, Sir?" said my brother, very mournfully.

'"Tell her you will consent to fulfil all her wishes."

'"Sir," said Delamere firmly, "if to sacrifice my own life would
restore my mother's, I would not hesitate; but if what your Lordship
means relates to Miss Otley, it is absolutely out of my power."

'"He is already married, I doubt not," sighed my mother.

'"Upon my soul I am not."

'"Come, come," cried Dr. Gardner, "this is going a great deal too
far; your Ladyship is but just convinced your son is living, and my
Lord here is already talking of other matters. Tell me, madam--what
do you wish Mr. Delamere to say?"

'"That he will not marry," eagerly interrupted my father, "but
with his mother's consent and mine."

'"I will not, my Lord," said Delamere, sighing.

'"That as soon as Lady Montreville is well enough to allow you to
leave her, you will go abroad for a twelvemonth or longer if I shall
judge it expedient."

'"I will promise _that_, if your Lordship makes a point of it--if
my mother insists upon it. But, my Lord, if at the end of that time
Emmeline Mowbray is still single----my Lord, you do not expect
unconditional submission--I shall then in my turn hope that you and
my mother will make no farther opposition to my wishes."

'My father, who expected no concession from Delamere, had at first
asked of him more than he intended to insist on, and now appeared
eager to close with the first terms he could obtain. Accepting
therefore a delay, instead of a renunciation, he said--"Well,
Delamere, if at the end of a twelvemonth you still insist on
marrying Miss Mowbray, I will not oppose it. Lady Montreville, you
hear what your son engages for; do you agree to the terms?"

'My mother said, very faintly--"Yes."

'The promise was repeated on both sides before the physician and
Fitz-Edward, who came in at the latter part of this scene. My mother
seemed reluctantly to accede; complained of extreme faintness; and
the scene beginning to grow fatiguing to her, my brother offered to
retire. She gave him her hand, which he kissed, and at her desire
consented to return to the apartments here which he used to occupy.
My mother had that evening another attack; tho' it was much less
severe. But as the contraction does not give way to any remedies yet
used, the physicians propose sending her to Bath as soon as she is
able to bear the journey.

'Thus, my dearest Emmeline, I have punctually related all you
appear so anxious to know, on which I leave you to reflect. My
mother now sees my brother every day; but he has desired that
nothing may be said of the past; and their conversations are short

and melancholy. Fitz-Edward has left London; and Frederic told
me, last night, that as soon as the physicians pronounce my mother
entirely out of danger, he shall go down to you. Ah! my lovely
friend! what a trial will his be! But I know _you_ will encourage
and support him in the task, however painful, of fulfilling the
promise he has given; and my father, who praises you incessantly,
says he is _sure_ of it.

Adieu! my dear Miss Mowbray!
your affectionate and attached,
AUGUSTA DELAMERE.'

_Berkley-square, March 3._

A few days after the receipt of this letter, Delamere went down to Tylehurst. Dejection was visibly marked in his air and countenance; and all that Emmeline could say to strengthen his resolution, served only to make him feel greater reluctance. To quit her for twelve months, to leave her exposed to the solicitation of rivals who would not fail to surround her, and to hazard losing her for ever, seemed so terrible to his imagination, that the nearer the period of his promised departure grew, the more impossible he thought it to depart.

His ardent imagination seemed to be employed only in figuring the variety of circumstances which might in that interval arise to separate them for ever; and he magnified these possibilities, till he persuaded himself that nothing but a private marriage could secure her. As he saw how anxious she was that he should strictly adhere to the promises he had given his father, he thought that he might induce her to consent to this expedient, as the only one by which he could reconcile his duty and his love. He therefore took an opportunity, when he had by the bitterness of his complaints softened her into tears, to entreat, to implore her to consent to marry him before he went. He urged, that as Lord and Lady Montreville had both consented to their union at the end of the year, if he remained in the same mind, it made in fact no difference to _them_; because he was very sure that his inclinations would not change, and no doubt _could_ arise but from herself. If therefore she determined then to be his, she might as well consent to become so immediately as to hazard the difficulties which might arise to their marriage hereafter.

Emmeline, tho' extremely affected by his sorrow, had still resolution enough to treat this argument as feeble sophistry, unworthy of him and of herself; and positively to refuse her consent to an engagement which militated against all her assurances to Lord Montreville.

This decisive rejection of a plan, to which, from the tender pity she testified, he believed he should persuade her to assent, threw him into one of those transports of agonizing passion which he could neither conceal or contend with. He wept; he raved like a madman. He swore he would return to his father and revoke his promise; and the endeavours of Mrs. Stafford and Emmeline to calm his mind seemed only to encrease the emotions with which it was torn.

After having exhausted every mode of persuasion in vain, he was obliged to relinquish the hope of a secret marriage, and to attempt to obtain another concession, in which he at length succeeded. He told Emmeline, that if she had no wish to quit him entirely, but really meant to reward his long and ardent affection, she could not object to bind herself to become his wife immediately on his return to England.

Emmeline made every objection she could to this request. But she only objected; for she saw him so hurt, that she had not the resolution to wound him anew by a positive refusal. Mrs. Stafford too, moved by his grief and despair, no longer supported her in her reserve; and as _their_ steadiness seemed to give way _his_ eagerness and importunity encreased, till they allowed him to draw up a promise in these words--'At the end of the term prescribed by Lord Montreville, Emmeline Mowbray hereby promises to become the wife of Frederic Delamere.'

This, Emmeline signed with a reluctant and trembling hand; for tho' she had an habitual friendship and affection for Delamere, and preferred him to all the men she had yet seen, she thought this not strictly right; and felt a pain and repugnance to it's performance, which made her more unhappy the longer she reflected on it.

On Delamere, however, it had a contrary effect. Tho' he still continued greatly depressed at the thoughts of their approaching separation, he yet assumed some degree of courage to bear it: and when the day arrived, he bid her adieu without relapsing into those agonies he had suffered before at the mere idea of it.

He carried with him a miniature picture of her, and entreated her to answer his letters; which, on the footing they now were, she could not refuse to promise. He then tore himself from her, and went to take leave of his mother, who still continued ill at Bath; and from thence to London, to bid farewel to his father; after which, Fitz-Edward accompanied him as far as Harwich, where he embarked for Holland.

As he had before been the usual tour of France and Italy, he purposed passing the summer in visiting Germany, and the winter at Vienna; and early in the spring to set out thro' France on his way home, where he purposed being on the 20th of March, when the year which he had promised his father to pass abroad would expire.

Lord Montreville, by obtaining this delay thought there was every probability that his attachment to Emmeline would be conquered. And his Lordship, as well as Lady Montreville, determined to try in the interval to procure for Emmeline some unexceptionable marriage which it would not be possible for her to refuse. They imagined, therefore, that their uneasiness on this head was over: and Lady Montreville, whose mind was greatly relieved by the persuasion, was long since out of all danger from the fits which had so severely attacked her; but the contraction of her joints which they had occasioned, was still so painful and obstinate, that the physicians seemed to apprehend it might be necessary to send her Ladyship to the waters of Barege.

In the mean time, Lord Montreville had obtained a post in administration which encreased his income and his power. Sir Richard Crofts possessed a lucrative employment in the same department; and his eldest son was become extremely necessary, from his assiduity and attention to business, and more than ever a favourite with all Lord Montreville's family, with whom he almost entirely lived.

A lurking _penchant_ for Fitz-Edward, which had grown up from her earliest recollection almost insensibly in the bosom of Miss Delamere, had been long chilled by his evident neglect and indifference: she now fancied she hated him, and really preferred Crofts, every way inferior as he was.

While the want of high birth and a title, which she had been taught to consider as absolutely requisite to happiness, made her repress every tendency to a serious engagement, she was extremely gratified by his flattery; and when among other young women (from whom he affected not to be able to stifle his unhappy passion,) she was frequently told how much he was in love with her, she was accustomed to answer--'Ah! poor fellow; so he is, and I heartily pity him.'

But while Lord and Lady Montreville thought Crofts's attendance on their daughters quite without consequence, he and his father insinuated an intended connection between him and one of them, with so much art, that tho' it never reached the ears of the family it was universally believed in the world.

A young nobleman who had passed the greater part of his life in the army, where he had lately signalized himself by his bravery and conduct, now returned to England on being promoted to a regiment; and having some business to transact with Lord Montreville in his official capacity, he was invited to the house, and greatly admired both the Miss Delameres, whose parties he now joined at Bath.

Crofts soon afterwards obtaining a short respite from his political engagement, went thither also; and tho' Miss Delamere really thought Lord Westhaven quite unexceptionable, she had been so habituated to behave particularly to Crofts, that she could not now alter it, or perhaps was not conscious of the familiar footing on which she allowed him to be with her.

Lord Westhaven, who had at first hesitated between the sprightly dignity of the elder sister, and the soft and more bewitching graces of the younger, no sooner saw the conduct of Miss Delamere towards Crofts, than his doubts were at an end. Her faults of temper had been hitherto concealed from him, and he believed her heart as good as her sister's; indeed, according to the sentimental turn her discourse frequently took, he might have supposed it more refined and sublime. But when he observed her behaviour to Crofts, he thought that she must either be secretly engaged to him, or be a decided coquet. Turning therefore all his attention to Augusta, he soon found that her temper was as truly good as her person was interesting, and that the too great timidity of her manner was solely owing to her being continually checked by her mother's partiality to her sister.

A very short study of her character convinced him she was exactly the woman calculated to make him happy. He told her so; and found her by no means averse to his making the same declaration to her father and mother.

Lord Montreville received it with pleasure; and preliminaries were soon settled. In about six weeks, Lord Westhaven and Miss Augusta Delamere were married at Bath, to the infinite satisfaction of all parties except Miss Delamere; who could not be very well pleased with the preference shewn her younger sister by a man whose morals, person, and fortune, were all superior to what even her own high spirit had taught her to expect in a husband.

Crofts, tho' he saw all apprehensions of having Lord Westhaven for a rival were at an end, could not help fearing that so advantageous a match for the younger, might make the elder more unwilling to accept a simple commoner with a fortune greatly inferior.

The removal, however, of Lady Westhaven gave him more frequent opportunities to urge his passion. Lady Montreville was now going to Barege, Bath having been found less serviceable than was at first hoped for; and Delamere was written to to meet her Ladyship and her eldest daughter at Paris, in order to accompany them thither.

Peace having been in the interim established, Lord Westhaven found he should return no more to his regiment, and purposed with his wife to attend Lady Montreville part of the way, and then to go into Switzerland, where his mother's family resided, who had been of that country.

Lady Westhaven was extremely gratified by this scheme; not only because she was delighted to wait on her mother, but because she hoped it would help to dissipate a lurking uneasiness which hung over the spirits of her Lord, and which he told her was owing to the uncertain and distressing situation of a beloved sister. But whenever the subject was mentioned, he expressed so much unhappiness, that his wife had not yet had resolution to enquire into the nature of her misfortunes, and only knew in general that she was unfortunately married.