CHAPTER VI.

No te falterà otra Dama Hermosa y de galan talle, Que te quiera, y tu la quieras Porque lo mereces Zayde.

_Spanish Romance._

The visit of the Falkinghams at Cransley had now lasted more than ten days. Blanche ardently wished to be at home again. She felt wretched, hypocritical, and guilty. She found herself so uncomfortable where she was, that she imagined any change must be for the better. When they left Cransley, Lord Glenrith was to pay his parents a visit of a few days, and then to join them at Temple Loseley; after which they were all to proceed to London for the purpose of procuring the wedding paraphernalia.

Lady Blanche's depression became so evident, that even Lord Glenrith, although not an acute observer, could not avoid perceiving it. He was exceedingly flattered, and attributed it all to his approaching absence. He kindly consoled her. "I shall soon be with you again, Blanche. I love my father and mother dearly; but just now I do not think even they can succeed in keeping me above three days away from you. I hate the thought of leaving you, but it will be such a pleasure to meet again!--will it not, dearest Blanche? I think it will almost make up for the pain of parting; and then I suppose, I need not leave you any more. So we have nothing but joy before us." And he wondered his betrothed did not appear to be more consoled by this prospect.

He has handed them all into their travelling barouche, and he has thrown himself into his britska, and they have left Cransley in opposite directions. All the rest of the party had previously dispersed--all but Mr. Wroxholme, and he was going to town the next day. As he and Lady Westhope stood upon the steps watching the receding vehicles, they could not help communicating to each other their fears concerning the approaching marriage. Lady Westhope was exceedingly out of spirits at poor Blanche's prospects, and Mr. Wroxholme entered into her feelings, with all the delicacy of a person with good heart and good taste.

As their barouche rolled smoothly along, Lord and Lady Falkingham fell into deep and earnest conversation: Blanche sat in the back seat, absorbed in her own meditations. The road lay through an open, hilly, and heathy country, watered by small rivulets, on the immediate banks of which were sometimes seen a solitary cottage, and, close around, a small patch of cultivated ground. It was a mild watery day, with little positive rain, but one in which the shifting lights and gleams of pale sunshine give a purple hue to the heathy hill-side, and a bright yellow to the green meadow, or the mossy swamp. Her eyes mechanically watched the varying hues, and at length fixed themselves upon a lonely turf-roofed hut in the valley below. "How peaceful must be existence in such a hut!" she thought within herself; "no worldly considerations, no aspirations after rank and situation, can there interfere with the affections. A strong arm and a willing mind are all that are required to authorize the peasant lover to seek the hand of his peasant mistress. Personal, individual qualities alone are considered,--not the adventitious recommendations of fortune. How much happier must be that rank of life, where love, and love alone, leads to an union which is to endure as long as life itself! Oh! if I could, in honour and in respectability, become the wife of De Molton, how willingly would I resign every luxury to which I have been born, and live in that very cottage, unnoticed and unknown! I think I could gladly perform even the household drudgery: I could feed the chickens and sweep the brick floor, and pile up the blazing faggots, and prepare my husband's evening meal--if that husband were De Molton!"

She gazed upon the cottage as long as it remained in sight, and almost felt as if she left a place that was endeared to her by habit, when a turn in the road concealed it from her view.

It may be much questioned whether Lady Blanche's view of the various conditions of life were a correct one, and whether there may not exist as much, or more, disinterested love in the higher orders than in the lower.

But her thoughts continued, "And feeling thus, shall I promise entire, undivided, eternal love to another man? Has not my life been an enacted lie for the last fortnight? Can I make up my mind to continue for years and years this unceasing duplicity? I thought De Molton's image would have faded from my mind--I thought I should each day have become more attached to Lord Glenrith. I hear of so many happy wives who did not marry for love! But is this the case? No! his image rises to my mind's eye more frequently than ever, and I find my soul recoil more, every day, from poor dear Lord Glenrith's tenderness. I shall behave ill to him in breaking off the marriage, and I shall be called a jilt; but shall I not behave more ill to him by marrying him, when I feel as I now do? I will tell him the whole truth myself! It is a horrid alternative, but I cannot--I cannot marry him!"

The day after their arrival at home Lady Blanche communicated to her mother the resolution she had formed. Lady Falkingham was thunderstruck. Blanche had continued for the last week to admit of Lord Glenrith's attentions, and had never again alluded to her attachment, so that Lady Falkingham had convinced herself the childish affair had passed from her mind. She was inexpressibly grieved at the information; but she was a woman of principle, and could not insist upon her daughter's marrying, while a passion, which would become criminal, retained full possession of her breast. Lord Falkingham, as might be expected, was very indignant--perhaps more so at first than his wife had been; but when the first ebullition of anger was past, he was sooner able to resume his usual bearing towards his daughter. The days are passed, when any measures, beyond argument and persuasion, can be put into practice to force an unwilling bride to the altar; and argument and persuasion were of no avail with one who unequivocally declared that she had tried in vain to subdue her love for De Molton--that her efforts to return Lord Glenrith's affection were totally unavailing, and that, if she found herself his wife, she should be utterly miserable.

Two days had elapsed from Lord Glenrith's departure for his father's. On the third he was expected at Temple Loseley. There was no cross post; there was no time to write; and, indeed, Blanche thought she had rather tell him the whole truth herself, as she could better exonerate his friend from any blame, by word of mouth, than by letter.

Never did three persons await the coming of a gay and gallant bridegroom with more uncomfortable feelings. At the appointed moment on the third day he arrived, beaming with honest joy. After the first greeting, he slipped upon the finger of his love, with an attempt at sentimental mystery, a ring containing his own hair. He also brought from his mother the family diamonds, which, she said, would infinitely better grace the blooming young bride than the sober matron. Lord Glenrith exhibited them with some pride and great delight;--pride at the family glories--delight at offering them to Blanche.

Never were diamonds received so awkwardly, and with so little apparent gratitude.

"Why, Blanche! you do not seem to care about the diamonds," he said, in rather a mortified tone.

"Indeed I am very, very grateful to Lady Wentnor for her constant, her unmerited kindness to me--so much more than I deserve!"

"You are very modest, my dear Blanche! Well! I hope it is that you are so glad to see me, you cannot think about the diamonds; and if that is the case I will forgive you, and so will my mother too, I dare say. I have been told many women love their diamonds better than their husbands: that will not be your case, I trust, or you will care very little for me." He hurried off to dress for dinner, a little put out by the reception he had met with.

The dinner was most distressing. Lord Glenrith began, in the innocence of his heart, to tell them everything he had done, every arrangement that had been made, and how Lord and Lady Wentnor meant to visit Leamington for a few weeks, and to relinquish Wentnor Castle to them for their honeymoon; but he found his audience so cold, that he in his turn became chilled and daunted.

As they left the dining-room, Lady Blanche summoned all her courage, and said, "I wish to speak to you presently in the breakfast-room."

The die was cast! She must now tell him all. She seized her mother's arm as they crossed the hall. "O, mamma! what a task I have to perform! How could I ever accept poor dear Lord Glenrith, and plunge myself into this dreadful difficulty?"

"My dear, say rather, 'How could I let myself fall in love with a man whom it is utterly impossible I should marry?'--that would be more to the purpose. But it is too late now: there is no use in retrospection!"

It was not many minutes before they heard the dining-room doors open. Lady Blanche rushed into the breakfast-room adjoining, and in two seconds Lord Glenrith followed her. He saw something unusual had occurred, and he felt uneasy, but his mind never glanced towards what awaited him. "Well, Blanche, what in the world have you to say to me?" and he seated himself on the sofa by her side. "How glad I am we are once more quietly here, and no longer surrounded by simpering, quizzing acquaintances!" And there seemed a considerable danger of his attempting to put his arm round her waist. If he did meditate such a thing, his intentions were by no means carried into effect, for she started up to take her reticule off the table, and re-seated herself at the opposite side of the fireplace in an arm-chair.

"Lord Glenrith," she said, "I have something upon my mind which has made me very miserable of late."

"Miserable!--you miserable, and I not know it! What can I do, dearest Blanche? You know I would go through fire and water to serve you."

"Do not speak so kindly to me,--you make what I have to say more painful, more difficult. I deserve nothing from you but hatred and contempt."

"What are you talking about? Are you in your right senses?"

"Scarcely, I believe; for any other woman would think herself the happiest and most fortunate of creatures in marrying you; and if I was to do so, I should be both wicked and wretched!"

"Not marry me, Blanche!--you are dreaming. What can all this mean? It is very unpleasant, though you cannot mean what you are now saying."

"Indeed I do mean what I say; and you cannot know how much I have suffered in coming to this conclusion."

"This is strange--this is unaccountable!" and he passed his hands over his eyes, as if to make sure he was awake. "Have I done anything to change your opinion of me? I am not aware of having been wanting in any way--and I am sure, Blanche, I have loved you truly and sincerely." A tear glistened in his eye. "Tell me what I have done, and I will correct my fault. You are only saying this to try me; and if so, let me tell you that it is a very foolish jest, and one entirely unworthy of you." The colour mounted into his face, and he looked for a moment extremely angry.

"No! Lord Glenrith, this is no jest! I am in sober, serious, most sad earnest. Your conduct towards me has been from the beginning ten thousand times better than I deserved; but I should be treating you shamefully if I were to marry you when my heart--is another's."

"Your heart another's! Did you say so? Your heart another's! Then why, on earth, did you accept me?"

"Well may you ask that question, and well may I blush to answer it! I thought my affection was unrequited, and I esteemed you. My parents thought more highly of you than of any one. I believed I should soon prefer you to the one person I had loved, as much as I already did to all common acquaintances; and it was not till I found my affection was not unrequited, that I became aware of the depth and strength of my own attachment. I have been miserable ever since, and all I can now do is to tell you the honest truth."

Lord Glenrith sat with his eyes fixed on the ground. "This is a cruel blow!" he said at last; "I have not deserved this from you, Lady Blanche. And who is the favoured object? By heaven, it must be De Molton! I remember his countenance at dinner the day he was at Cransley--how pale he looked, and how continually he strove to catch a view of you by the épergne; and every time he met my eye, he looked in another direction! I am born to be made a fool of--to be deceived by the friend I have loved from childhood, and by the woman to whom I would fain have devoted all the rest of my existence!" He hid his face in his hands.

"Blame me, Lord Glenrith, for I deserve your reproaches; but your friend has never deceived you: Captain De Molton has always considered you more than himself."

"Then it is De Molton! These are the actions dictated by his high-flown notions of honour! A plain, matter-of-fact man would never have proved such a shabby fellow!"

"Captain De Molton shabby!" The word "shabby" sounded strangely on her ear when coupled with the name of De Molton. She would have answered Lord Glenrith angrily, if the consciousness of how deeply she had wronged him had not checked her speech; but she could rather have forgiven his calling her lover a black-hearted villain, than a "shabby fellow."--"Lord Glenrith," she repeated, "you wrong your friend. He carefully concealed from me his feelings till--till----"

"Till you had promised to marry me!"

"Till he fancied the avowal of them could not endanger your happiness, or, as he imagined, mine. When he took leave of me at Cransley, he showed some emotion, which caused him to reproach himself for betraying feelings he had long concealed. Then first I learned he did experience any feelings which he wished to conceal, and this discovery produced a revolution in my mind which appalled me. I strove to blind myself as to the nature of my sentiments, I strove to conquer them,--in vain; and now, what can I do, but throw myself on your mercy, and implore you to forgive me for having ever accepted the devotion of an honest man, whose affection I could not requite as it deserved!" She held out her hand to him.

"Oh, Blanche! you break my heart!" and he kissed the hand which she did not withdraw: she felt a tear fall upon it. Her very soul seemed to melt towards the kind being to whom she was giving so much pain.

"Believe me, Lord Glenrith, when I tell you, that every sentiment of esteem, respect, and gratitude--every sentiment which my reason can command, is yours; and that I esteem and respect you too highly to wish you married to a wife who cannot give you her whole heart. In a short time you will forget a person who has caused you nothing but disappointment and annoyance; and you will find many, many girls who will esteem themselves fortunate in being allowed to devote to you their first affections. You will soon rejoice in the liberty I now restore to you. While I have nothing in store for me but contempt and ridicule, you will find, with some one far superior to me in all respects, happiness, which I must not hope for."

"Never, Blanche, never!--I shall never marry!" And Lord Glenrith conscientiously believed what he uttered.

"Before we part, tell me that you forgive Captain De Molton, and that you believe me when I assure you, that he never intended to interfere with your interests."

"Yes," he said, "I do believe you, and I will try to forgive De Molton."

Everything was said. Blanche felt that their return to the drawing-room was very awkward, but there was no other course to pursue. She led the way to the door--there was nothing left for Lord Glenrith but to follow after. He felt that something of ridicule always attached itself to his position; but at the same time he felt injured, and he tried to put a certain resolute and dignified air into his walk. He looked flushed and heated, his eye glanced suspiciously and uneasily from side to side, but he attempted to assume an unembarrassed deportment.