Chapter IV

Lord Montreville, whose first object was his son, had observed, with some alarm, the immediate impression he seemed to have received from the beauty of Emmeline.

The next day, he made some farther remarks on his attention to her when they met at dinner, which gave him still more uneasiness; and he accused himself of great indiscretion in having thrown an object, whose loveliness he could not help acknowledging, in the way of Delamere, whose ardent and impetuous temper he knew so well. This gave his behaviour to Emmeline an air of coldness, and even of displeasure, which prevented her summoning courage to speak to him in the morning of the day after his arrival: and the evening afforded her no opportunity; for Lord Montreville, determined to keep her as much as possible out of the sight of Delamere, did not send for her down to supper, and had privately resolved to remove her as soon as possible to some other residence.

Thus his apprehensions lest his son should form an attachment prejudicial to his ambitious views, produced in his Lordship's mind a resolution in regard to placing more properly his orphan niece, which no consideration, had it related merely to herself, would probably have effected.

At supper, Delamere enquired eagerly for his 'lovely cousin.' To which Lord Montreville drily answered, 'that she did not, he believed, sup below.'

But the manner of this enquiry, and the anxious looks Delamere directed towards the door, together with his repeated questions, increased all Lord Montreville's fears.

He went to bed out of humour rather with himself than his son; and rising early the next morning, enquired for Miss Mowbray.

Miss Mowbray was walked out, as was her custom, very early, no one knew whither.

He learned also that Mr. Delamere was gone out with his gun without Fitz-Edward; who not being very fond of field sports, had agreed to join him at a later hour.

He immediately fancied that Delamere and Emmeline might meet; and the pain such a suspicion brought with it, was by him, who had hardly ever felt an hour's uneasiness, considered as so great an evil, that he determined to put an end to it as soon as possible.

After an hasty breakfast in his own room, he summoned Maloney to attend him, and went over the accounts of the estates entrusted to him, with the state of which his Lordship declared himself well contented. And not knowing to whom else he could apply, to enquire for a situation for Emmeline, he told Maloney, that as Miss Mowbray was now of an age to require some alteration in her mode of life, he was desirous of finding for her a reputable house in some town in Wales, where she might lodge and board.

Maloney, encouraged by being thus consulted by his Lord, ventured, with many bows, blushes, and stammering apologies, to disclose to Lord Montreville his partiality to Miss Mowbray.

And this communication he so contrived to word, that his Lordship had no doubt of Emmeline's having allowed him to make it.

Lord Montreville listened therefore in silence, and without any marks of disapprobation, to the account Maloney proceeded to give of his prospects and property.

While he was doing so, family pride made a faint struggle in his Lordship's breast on behalf of his deserted ward. He felt some pain in determining, that a creature boasting a portion of the Mowbray blood, should sink into the wife of a man of such inferior birth as Maloney.

But when the advantages of so easily providing for her were recollected; when he considered that Maloney would be happy to take her with a few hundred pounds, and that all apprehensions in regard to his son would by that means for ever be at an end; avarice and ambition, two passions which too much influenced Lord Montreville, joined to persuade him of the propriety of the match; and became infinitely too powerful to let him listen to his regard to the memory of his brother or his pity for his deserted ward.

He thought, that as the existence of Emmeline was hardly known beyond the walls of the castle, he should incur no censure from the world if he consigned her to that obscurity to which the disadvantages of her birth seemed originally to have condemned her.

These reflections arose while Maloney, charmed to find himself listened to, was proceeding in his discourse.

Lord Montreville, tho' too much used to the manners of politicians to be able to give a direct answer, at length put an end to it, by telling him he would consider of what he had said, and talk to him farther in a few days.

In the mean time his Lordship desired that no part of their conversation might transpire.

Maloney, transported at a reception which seemed to prognosticate the completion of his wishes, retired elated with his prospects; and Lord Montreville summoning Mr. Headly to attend him, mounted his horse to survey the ground on which he meditated improvements round the castle.

The cold and almost stern civility of Lord Montreville, for the little time Emmeline had seen him, had created despondence and uneasiness in her bosom.

She fancied he disliked her, unoffending as she was, and would take the first opportunity of shaking her off: an idea which, together with the awe she could not help feeling in his presence, made her determine as much as possible to avoid it, 'till he should give her a proper opportunity to speak to him, or 'till she could acquire courage to seek it.

At seven in the morning, she arose, after an uneasy night, and having taken an early breakfast, betook herself to her usual walk, carrying with her a book.

The sun was hot, and she went to a wood which partly cloathed an high hill near the boundary of the estate, where, intent only on her own sorrows, she could not beguile them by attending to the fictitious and improbable calamities of the heroine of a novel, which Mrs. Garnet (probably forgetting to restore it to the library of some former mistress,) had brought down among her cloaths, and which had been seized by Emmeline as something new, at least to her.

But her mind, overwhelmed with its own anxiety, refused its attention: and tired with her walk, she sat down on a tree that had been felled, reflecting on what had passed since Lord Montreville's arrival, and considering how she might most effectually interest him in her behalf.

Delamere, attended by a servant, had gone upon the hills in pursuit of his game; and having had great success for some hours, he came down about eleven o'clock into the woods, to avoid the excessive heat, which was uncommon for the season.

The noise he made in brushing through the underwood with his gun, and rustling among the fading leaves, alarmed her.

He stepped over the timber, and seating himself by her, seized her hands.

'Oh! my charming cousin,' cried he, 'I think myself one of the most fortunate fellows on earth, thus to meet you.'

Emmeline would have risen.

'Oh! no,' continued he, 'indeed you do not go, 'till we have had a little conversation.'

'I cannot stay, indeed Sir,' said Emmeline--. 'I must immediately go home.'

'By no means; I cannot part with you.--Come, come, sit down and hear what I have to say.'

It was to no purpose to resist. The impetuous vehemence of Delamere was too much for the timid civility of Emmeline; and not believing that any thing more than common conversation or a few unmeaning compliments would pass, she sat down with as much composure as she could command.

But Delamere, who was really captivated at the first, and who now thought her more beautiful than he had done in their former interviews, hesitated not to pour forth the most extravagant professions of admiration, in a style so unequivocal, that Emmeline, believing he meant to insult her, burst into a passion of tears, and besought him, in a tremulous and broken voice, not to be so cruel as to affront her, but to suffer her to return home.

Delamere could not see her terror without being affected. He protested, that so far from meaning to give her pain, he should think himself too happy if she would allow him to dedicate his whole life to her service.

Poor Emmeline, however, continued to weep, and to beseech him to let her go; to which, as her distress arose almost to agony, he at length consented: and taking her arm within his, he said he would walk home with her himself.

To this Emmeline in vain objected. To escape was impossible. To prevail on him to leave her equally so. She was therefore compelled to follow him. Which she did with reluctance; while he still continued to profess to her the most violent and serious attachment. They proceeded in this manner along the nearest path to the castle, which lay principally among copses that fringed the banks of the river. They had just passed through the last, and entered the meadows which lay immediately under the castle walls, when Lord Montreville and Headly, on horseback, appeared from a woody lane just before them.

At the noise of horses so near them, Emmeline looked up, and seeing Lord Montreville, again struggled, but without success, to disengage her hand.

Delamere continued to walk on, and his Lordship soon came up to them. He checked his horse, and said, somewhat sternly, 'So, Sir, where have you been?'

Delamere, without the least hesitation, answered--'Shooting, my Lord, the early part of the morning; and since that, making love to my cousin, who was so good as to sit and wait for me under a tree.'

'For mercy's sake, Mr. Delamere,' cried Emmeline, 'consider what you say.'

'Waiting for you under a tree!' cried Lord Montreville, in amazement. 'Do Miss Mowbray be so good as to return home.--And you, Frederic, will, I suppose, be back by dinner time.'

'Yes,' answered Delamere, 'when I have conducted my cousin home, I shall go out again, perhaps, for an hour before dinner.'

He was then walking on, without noticing the stern and displeased looks of his father, or the terror of poor Emmeline, who saw too evidently that Lord Montreville was extremely angry.

His Lordship, after a moment's pause, dismounted, gave his horse to a servant, and joined them, telling Delamere he had some business with Miss Mowbray, and would therefore walk with her towards the castle himself.

Delamere kissed her hand gayly, and assuring his father that for the first time in his life he felt an inclination to take his business off his hands, he beckoned to his servant to follow with his dogs, and then leaping over the hedge that separated the meadow from the hollow lane, he disappeared.

Emmeline, trembling with apprehension, walked with faultering steps by the side of Lord Montreville, who for some time was silent. He at length said--'Your having been brought up in retirement, Miss Mowbray, has, perhaps, prevented your being acquainted with the decorums of the world, and the reserve which a young woman should ever strictly maintain. You have done a very improper thing in meeting my son; and I must desire that while you are at the castle, no such appointments may take place in future.'

Tho' she saw, from the first moment of his meeting them, that he had conceived this idea, and was confirmed in it by Delamere's speech; yet she was so much shocked and hurt by the address, that as she attempted to answer, her voice failed her.

The tears however, which streamed from her eyes, having a little relieved her, she endeavoured to assure his Lordship, that till she met Mr. Delamere in the wood that morning, she did not know even of his having left the castle.

'And how happened you to be where he found you, Miss Mowbray?'

'I went thither, my Lord, with a book which I was eager to finish.'

'Oh! I remember that Maloney told me you was a great reader; and from some other discourse he held relative to you, I own I was the more surprised at your indiscretion in regard to my son.'

They were by this time arrived at the castle, and Lord Montreville desired Emmeline to follow him into the parlour, where they both sat down.

His Lordship renewed the discourse.

'This morning Maloney has been talking to me about you; and from what he said, I concluded you had formed with him engagements which should have prevented you from listening to the boyish and improper conversation of Mr. Delamere.'

'Engagements with Mr. Maloney, my Lord? Surely he could never assert that I have ever formed engagements with him?'

'Why not absolutely so.--I think he did not say that. But I understood that you was by no means averse to his informing me of his attachment, and was willing, if my consent was obtained, to become his wife. Perhaps he has no very great advantages; yet considering your situation, which is, you know, entirely dependent, I really think you do perfectly right in designing to accept of the establishment he offers you.'

'To become the wife of Maloney!--to accept of the establishment _he_ offers me! I am humbled, I am lost indeed! No, my Lord! unhappy as I am, I can _claim_ nothing, it is true; but if the support of an unfortunate orphan, thrown by Providence into your care, is too troublesome, suffer me to be myself a servant; and believe I have a mind, which tho' it will not recoil from any situation where I can earn my bread by honest labour, is infinitely superior to any advantages such a man as Maloney can offer me!'

She wept too much to be able to proceed; and sat, overwhelmed with grief and mortification, while Lord Montreville continued to speak.

'Why distress yourself in this manner, Miss Mowbray? I cannot see any thing which ought to offend you, if Maloney _has_ misrepresented the matter, and if he has not, your extraordinary emotion must look like a consciousness of having altered your mind.

'Your motive for doing so cannot be mistaken; but let me speak to you explicitly.--To Mr. Delamere, _my_ son, the heir to a title and estate which makes him a desirable match for the daughters of the first houses in the kingdom, _you_ can have no pretensions; therefore never do yourself so much prejudice as to let your mind glance that way.

'Maloney tells me he has some property, and still better expectations. He is established here in an excellent place; and should he marry you, it shall be still more advantageous. You are (I am sorry to be obliged to repeat it) without any dependance, but on my favour. You will therefore do wisely to embrace a situation in which that favour may be most effectually exerted on your behalf.

'As you have undoubtedly encouraged Maloney, the aversion you now pretend towards him, is artifice or coquetry. Consider before you decide, consider thoroughly what is your situation and what your expectations; and recollect, that as my son now means to be very frequently at Mowbray Castle, _you_ cannot remain with propriety but as the wife of Maloney.'

'Neither as the wife of Maloney, nor as Emmeline Mowbray, will I stay, my Lord, another day!' answered she, assuming more spirit than she had yet shewn. 'I wished for an interview to entreat your Lordship would allow me to go to some place less improper for my abode than Mowbray Castle has long been.'

'And whither would you go, Miss Mowbray?'

'On that, my Lord, I wished to consult you. But since it is perhaps a matter unworthy your attention; since it seems to signify little what becomes of me; I must determine to hazard going to Mrs. Watkins's, who will probably give me an asylum at least 'till I can find some one who will receive me, or some means of providing for myself the necessaries of life.'

'You then positively reject the overtures of Maloney?'

'Positively, my Lord--and for ever! I beg it may not be mentioned to me again!'

'And who is Mrs. Watkins?'

'The sister of Mrs. Carey, my Lord.'

'Where does she live?'

'At Swansea in Glamorganshire; where she is accustomed to take in boarders. She would, I believe, receive me.'

After a moment's consideration, Lord Montreville said, 'that perhaps may do, since you absolutely refuse the other plan; I would have you therefore prepare to go thither; but I must insist on no more morning interviews with Mr. Delamere, and that whither you are going may be kept unknown to him. But tell me,' continued he, 'what I am to say to poor Maloney?'

'That you are astonished at his insolence in daring to lift his eyes to a person bearing the name of Mowbray; and shocked at his falsehood in presuming to assert that I ever encouraged his impertinent pretensions!'

This effort of spirit exhausted all the courage Emmeline had been able to raise. She arose, and attempted to reach the door; but overcome by the violence of her agitation, was obliged to sit down in a chair near it.

She could no longer restrain the tears which were extorted from her by the mortifying scene she had passed through: and her deep sighs, which seemed ready to burst her heart, excited the compassion of Lord Montreville; who, where his ambition was not in question, was not void of humanity. The violent and artless sorrow of a beautiful young woman, whose fate seemed to be in his power, affected him.

He took her hand with kindness, and told her 'he was sorry to have said any thing that appeared harsh.'

His Lordship added, 'that he would have her write to Mrs. Watkins; that a servant should be sent with the letter; and that on condition of her concealing her abode from Delamere, she should be supplied with an annual income equal to all her wants.'

Then hearing Delamere's gun, which he always discharged before he entered the house, he hastened Emmeline away, desiring she would remain in her own apartment; where every thing necessary should be sent to her.