“No, never from this hour to part, We’ll live and love so true;
The sigh that rends thy constant heart,
Shall break thy lover’s too.”
“But, my love,” cried Lord Cherbury, as he wiped away the tears which pity and horror at the fate of Lady Euphrasia had caused Amanda to shed, “will your brother, think you, sanction our happiness? Will he, who might aspire so high for a sister thus at once possessed of beauty and fortune, bestow her on one whose title may now almost be considered an empty one?” “Oh! do not wrong his noble nature by such a doubt,” exclaimed Amanda. “Yes, with pride, with pleasure, with delight, will he bestow his sister upon the esteemed, the beloved of her heart; upon him, who, unwarped by narrow prejudice or selfish interest, sought her in the low shade of obscurity, to lay, all friendless and forlorn as she was, his fortune at her feet. Could he indeed be ungrateful to such kindness, could he attempt to influence me to another choice, my heart would at once repulse the effort, and avow its fixed determination; but he is incapable of such conduct; my Oscar is all that is generous and feeling: need I say more, than that a spirit congenial to yours animates his breast.”
Lord Cherbury clasped her to his heart. “Dearest, loveliest of human beings,” he exclaimed, “shall I at length call you mine? After all my sorrows, my difficulties, shall I indeed receive so precious a reward? Oh! wonder not, my Amanda, if I doubt the reality of so sudden a reverse of situation; I feel as if under the influence of a happy dream; but, good Heaven! a dream from which I never wish to be awakened.”
Amanda now recollected that if she stayed much longer from the cottage she would have some one coming in quest of her. She informed Lord Cherbury of this, and rose to depart; but he would not suffer her to depart alone, neither did she desire it. The nurse and her daughter Betsey were in the cottage at her return to it. To describe the surprise of the former at the appearance of Lord Cherbury is impossible—a surprise mingled with indignation, at the idea of his falsehood to her darling child; but when undeceived in that respect, her transports were of the most extravagant nature.
[Pg 561]
“Well, she thanked Heaven,” she said, “she should now see her dear child hold up her head again, and look as handsome as ever. Ay, she had always doubted,” she said, “that his lortship was not one of the false-hearted men she had so often heard her old grandmother talk of.” “My good nurse,” said Lord Cherbury, smiling, “you will then give me your dear child with all your heart?” “Ay, that I will, my lort,” she replied, “and this very moment too, if I could.” “Well,” cried Amanda, “his lordship will be satisfied at present with getting his dinner from you.” She then desired the things to be brought to the little arbor, already described at the beginning of this book, and proceeded to it with Lord Cherbury. The mention of dinner threw nurse and her daughter into universal commotion.
“Good lack! how unfortunate it was she had nothing hot or nice to lay pefore his lortship! How could she think he could dine upon cold lamb and salad! Well, this was all Miss Amanda’s fault, who would never let her do as she wished.” With the utmost difficulty she was persuaded he could dine upon these things. The cloth was laid upon the flowery turf, beneath the spreading branches of the arbor. The delicacies of the dairy were added to their repast, and Betsey provided a dessert of new filberts.
Never had Lord Cherbury partaken of so delicious a meal—never had he and Amanda experienced such happiness. The pleasure, the tenderness of their souls, beamed in expressive glances from their eyes, and they were now more convinced than ever that the humble scenes of life were best calculated for the promotion of felicity. Lord Cherbury felt more reconciled than he had been before to the diminution of his fortune; he yet retained sufficient for the comforts, and many of the elegancies of life. The splendor he lost was insignificant in his eyes; his present situation proved happiness could be enjoyed without it, and he knew it was equally disregarded by Amanda. He asked himself,
“———What was the world to them—
Its pomps, its pleasures, and its nonsense all,
Who in each other clasp, whatever fair
High fancy forms, or lavish hearts can wish?”
All nature looked gay and smiling around him. He inhaled the balmy breath of opening flowers, and through the verdant canopy be sat beneath, he saw the bright azure of the heavens, and felt the benignant influence of the sun, whose potent beams heightened to glowing luxuriance the beauties of the surrounding land[Pg 562]scape. He expressed his feelings to Amanda; he heard her declare the similarity of hers; heard her with all the sweet enthusiasm of a refined and animated mind, expatiate on the lovely scene around them. Oh! what tender remembrances did it awaken, and what delightful plans of felicity did they sketch! Lord Cherbury would hear from Amanda all she had suffered since their separation; and could his love and esteem have been increased, her patient endurance of the sorrows she related would have increased them. They did not leave the garden till a dusky hue had overspread the landscape. Oh! with what emotions did Amanda watch the setting sun, whose rising beams she had beheld with eyes obscured by tears of sorrow! As they sat at tea in the room, she could not avoid noticing the alteration in the nurse’s dress who attended. She had put on all her holiday finery; and, to evince her wish of amusing her guests, had sent for the blind harper, whom she stationed outside the cottage. His music drew a number of the neighboring cottagers about him, and they would soon have led up a dance in the vale, had not the nurse prevented them, lest they should disturb her guests. Lord Cherbury, however, insisted on their being gratified, and, sending for his servant, ordered him to provide refreshments for them, and to reward the harper. He would not leave Amanda till he had her permission to come early next morning, as soon as he could hope to see her. Accordingly the first voice she heard on rising was his chatting to the nurse. We may believe she did not spend many minutes at her toilet. The neat simplicity of her dress never required she should do so, and in a very short time she joined him. They walked out till breakfast was ready.
“Together trod the morning dews, and gathered
In their prime fresh blooming sweets.”
Amanda, in hourly expectation of her brother’s arrival, wished, ere he came, to inform the inhabitants of the cottage of the alteration of his fortune. This, with the assistance of Lord Cherbury, she took an opportunity of doing in the course of the day to the nurse. Had she been sole relator, she feared she should have been overwhelmed with questions. Joy and wonder were excited in an extreme degree by this relation, and nothing but the nurse’s hurry and impatience to communicate it to her family, could have prevented her from asking again and again a repetition of it.
Lord Cherbury now, as on the foregoing day, dined with Amanda. Her expectations relative to the speedy arrival of[Pg 563] her brother were not disappointed. While sitting after dinner with Lord Cherbury in the garden, the nurse, half breathless, came running to tell them that a superb coach and four, which to be sure must be my Lort Dunreath’s, was coming down the road.
Lord Cherbury colored with emotion. Amanda did not wish he and her brother should meet, till she had explained everything relative to him. By her desire he retired to the valley, to which a winding path from the garden descended, whilst she hurried to the cottage to receive and welcome her beloved brother. Their meeting was at once tender and affecting. The faithful Edwins surrounded Oscar with delight and rapture, pouring forth, in their simple style, congratulations on his happy fortune, and their wishes for his long enjoying it. He thanked them with a starting tear of sensibility. He assured them that their attentions to his dear sister, his lamented parents, his infant years, entitled them to a lasting gratitude. As soon as he and Amanda could disengage themselves from the good creatures, without wounding their feelings, they retired to her room, where Oscar related, as we have already done, all that passed between him and the Marquis of Roslin.
As soon as the funeral of Lady Euphrasia was over, the marquis settled everything with him, and put him into formal possession of Dunreath Abbey. By the marquis’s desire, he then waited upon Lady Dunreath, to inform her she was at liberty, and to request she would not contradict the assertion of having been abroad. Mrs. Bruce had previously informed her of the revolution of affairs. “I own,” continued Oscar, “from the cruelty to my mother, and the depravity of her conduct, I was strongly prejudiced against her, attributing, I acknowledge, her doing justice to us, in some degree, to her resentment against the marquis; but the moment I entered her apartment this prejudice vanished, giving place to the softer emotions of pity and tenderness, while a thorough conviction of her sincere repentance broke upon my soul. Though prepared to see a form reduced by affliction and confinement, I was not by any means prepared to see a form so emaciated, so death-like—a faint motion of her head, as I entered, alone proved her existence. Had the world been given me to do so, I think I could not have broken a silence so awful. At length she spoke, and in language that pierced my heart, implored my forgiveness for the sufferings she had caused me to endure. Repeatedly I assured her of it; but this rather heightened than diminished her agitation, and tears and sobs spoke the anguish[Pg 564] of her soul. ‘I have lived,’ she cried, ‘to justify the ways of Providence to men, and prove that, however calamity may oppress the virtuous, they or their descendants shall at last flourish. I have lived to see my contrite wish accomplished, and the last summons will now be a welcome release.’ She expressed an ardent desire to see her daughter. ‘The pitying tears of a mother,’ she exclaimed, ‘may be as balm to her wounded heart. Oh! my prophetic words, how often have I prayed that the punishment I then denounced against her might be averted!’
“I signified her desire,” continued Oscar, “to the marquis. I found the marchioness at first reluctant to it, from a secret dread, I suppose, of seeing an object so injured; but she at last consented, and I was requested to bring Lady Dunreath from the Abbey, and conduct her to the marchioness’s room. I will not attempt to describe the scene which passed between affection on the one hand, and penitence on the other. The marchioness indeed seemed truly penitent: remorse and horror were visible in her countenance, as she gazed upon her injured parent. I begged Lady Dunreath, if agreeable to her, still to consider the Abbey as her residence. This, however, she declined, and it was determined she should continue with her daughter. Her last moments may, perhaps, be soothed by closing in the presence of her child; but till then, I think, her wretchedness must be aggravated by beholding that of the marquis and his wife. Theirs is that situation where comfort can neither be offered nor suggested—hopeless and incurable is their sorrow—for, to use the beautiful and emphatic words of a late celebrated writer, ‘The gates of death are shut upon their prospects.’”
Amanda now, after a little hesitation, proceeded to inform Oscar of her real situation, and entreated him to believe that she never would have had a concealment from him, but for the fear of giving him uneasiness. He folded her to his bosom as she ceased speaking, declaring he rejoiced and congratulated her on having found an object so well qualified to make her happy.
“But where is this dear creature?” cried Oscar, with some gayety; “am I to search for him, like a favorite sylph, in your bouquet; or, with more probability of success, seek him amongst the shades of the garden? Come,” said he, “your looks confess our search will not be troublesome.” He led her to the garden. Lord Cherbury, who had lingered near it, saw them approaching. Amanda motioned him to meet them. He sprang forward, and[Pg 565] was instantly introduced by her to Lord Dunreath. The reception he met was the most flattering proof he could receive of his Amanda’s affections; for what but the most animated expressions in his favor could have made Lord Dunreath, at the first introduction, address him with all the fervency of friendship? Extremes of joy and sorrow are difficult to describe. I shall, therefore, as perfectly conscious of my inability to do justice to the scene which followed this introduction, pass it over in silence. Lord Dunreath had ordered his equipage and attendants to the village inn, where he himself intended to lodge. But this was prevented by Lord Cherbury, who informed him he could be accommodated at his steward’s. It was here, when they had retired for the night, that, Lord Cherbury having intimated his wishes for an immediate union with Amanda, all the necessary preliminaries were talked over and adjusted; and it was agreed that the marriage should take place at the cottage, from whence they should immediately proceed to Lady Martha’s, and that to procure a license, they should both depart the next morning. At breakfast, therefore, Amanda was apprised of their plan, and though the glow of modesty overspread her face, she did not with affectation object to it.
With greater expedition than Amanda expected, the travellers returned from the journey they had been obliged to take, and at their earnest and united request, without any affectation of modesty, though with its real feelings, Amanda consented that the marriage should take place the day but one after their return. Howel was sent for, and informed of the hour his services would be required. His mild eyes evinced to Amanda his sincere joy at the termination of her sorrows.
On the destined morning, Lord Dunreath and his friend went over to the cottage, and in a few minutes were joined by Amanda, the perfect model of innocence and beauty. She looked, indeed, the child of sweet simplicity, arrayed with the unstudied elegance of a village maid; she had no ornaments but those which could never decay, namely, modesty and meekness.
Language was inadequate to express the feelings of Lord Cherbury. His fine eyes alone could do them justice—alone reveal what might be the sacred triumph of his soul at gaining such a woman. A soft shade of melancholy stole over the fine features of Lord Dunreath, as he witnessed the happiness of Lord Cherbury; for as his happiness, so might his own have been, but for the blackest perfidy.
As Lord Cherbury took the trembling hand of Amanda, to[Pg 566] lead her from the cottage, she gave a farewell sigh to a place where, it might be said, her happiness had commenced and was completed. They walked to the church, followed by the nurse and her family. Some kind hand had strewed Lady Malvina’s grave with the gayest flowers, and when Amanda reached it she paused involuntarily for a moment, to invoke the spirits of her parents to bless her union.
Howel was already in the church, waiting to receive them, and the ceremony was begun without delay. With the truest pleasure did Lord Dunreath give his lovely sister to Lord Cherbury, and with the liveliest transport did he receive her as the choicest gift Heaven could bestow. Tears of sweet sensibility fell from Amanda, as Lord Cherbury folded her to his bosom as his own Amanda. Nor was he less affected; joy of the most rapturous kind agitated his whole soul at the completion of an event so earnestly desired, but so long despaired of. He wiped away her tears, and, when she had received the congratulations of her brother, presented her to the rest of the little group. Their delight, particularly the nurse’s, was almost too great for expression.
“Well,” she said, sobbing, “thank Cot her wish was fulfilled. It had been her prayer, night, noon, and morn, to see the taughter of her tear, tear Captain Fitzalan greatly married.” Poor Ellen wept—"Well, now she should be happy,” she said, “since she knew her tear young laty was so.” Amanda, affected by the artless testimonies of affection she received, could only smile upon the faithful creatures.
Lord Cherbury, seeing her unable to speak, took her hand, and said—"Lord Cherbury never would forget the obligations conferred upon Miss Fitzalan.” Bridal favors and presents had already been distributed among the Edwins. Howel was handsomely complimented on the occasion, and received some valuable presents from Lord Cherbury, as proofs of his sincere frien............