CHAPTER VII.
_In Which Captain Armine Indulges in a Reverie_.
THE squire's carriage was announced, and then came his lady's shawl. Howhappy was Ferdinand when he recollected that he was to remain at Ducie.Remain at Ducie!
Remain under the same roof as Henrietta Temple. What bliss! whatravishing bliss! All his life, and his had not been a monotonous one; itseemed that all his life could not afford a situation so adventurous andso sweet as this. Now they have gone. The squire and his lady, and theworthy rector who recollected Armine so well; they have all departed,all the adieus are uttered; after this little and unavoidable bustle,silence reigns in the salon of Ducie. Ferdinand walked to the window.The moon was up; the air was sweet and hushed; the landscape clear,though soft. Oh! what would he not have given to have strolled in thatgarden with Henrietta Temple, to have poured forth his whole soul toher, to have told her how wondrous fair she was, how wildly bewitching,and how he loved her, how he sighed to bind his fate with hers, and livefor ever in the brilliant atmosphere of her grace and beauty.
'Good night, Captain Armine,' said Henrietta Temple.
He turned hastily round, he blushed, he grew pale. There she stood, inone hand a light, the other extended to her father's guest. He pressedher hand, he sighed, he looked confused; then suddenly letting go herhand, he walked quickly towards the door of the salon, which he openedthat she might retire.
'The happiest day of my life has ended,' he muttered.
'You are so easily content then, that I think you must always be happy.'
'I fear I am not so easily content as you imagine.'
She has gone. Hours, many and long hours, must elapse before he sees heragain, before he again listens to that music, watches that airy grace,and meets the bright flashing of that fascinating eye. What misery wasthere in this idea? How little had he seemed hitherto to prize the joyof being her companion. He cursed the hours which had been wasted awayfrom her in the morning's sport; he blamed himself that he had not evensooner quitted the dining-room, or that he had left the salon for amoment, to commune with his own thoughts in the garden. With difficultyhe restrained himself from reopening the door, to listen for the distantsound of her footsteps, or catch, perhaps, along some corridor, thefading echo of her voice. But Ferdinand was not alone; Mr. Temple stillremained. That gentleman raised his face from the newspaper as CaptainArmine advanced to him; and, after some observations about the day'ssport, and a hope that he would repeat his trial of the manor to-morrow,proposed their retirement. Ferdinand of course assented, and in a momenthe was ascending with his host the noble and Italian staircase: and hethen was ushered from the vestibule into his room.
His previous visit to the chamber had been so hurried, that he hadonly made a general observation on its appearance. Little inclined toslumber, he now examined it more critically. In a recess was a Frenchbed of simple furniture. On the walls, which were covered with a rusticpaper, were suspended several drawings, representing views in theSaxon Switzerland. They were so bold and spirited that they arrestedattention; but the quick eye of Ferdinand instantly detected theinitials of the artist in the corner. They were letters that made hisheart tremble, as he gazed with admiring fondness on her performances.Before a sofa, covered with a chintz of a corresponding pattern withthe paper of the walls, was placed a small French table, on whichwere writing materials; and his toilet-table and his mantelpiece wereprofusely ornamented with rare flowers; on all sides were symptoms offemale taste and feminine consideration.
Ferdinand carefully withdrew from his coat the flower that Henrietta hadgiven him in the morning, and which he had worn the whole day. He kissedit, he kissed it more than once; he pressed its somewhat faded form tohis lips with cautious delicacy; then tending it with the utmost care,he placed it in a vase of water, which holding in his hand, he threwhimself into an easy chair, with his eyes fixed on the gift he mostvalued in the world.
An hour passed, and Ferdinand Armine remained fixed in the sameposition. But no one who beheld that beautiful and pensive countenance,and the dreamy softness of that large grey eye, could for a momentconceive that his thoughts were less sweet than the object on which theyappeared to gaze. No distant recollections disturbed him now, no memoryof the past, no fear of the future. The delicious present monopolisedhis existence. The ties of duty, the claims of domestic affection, theworldly considerations that by a cruel dispensation had seemed, as itwere, to taint even his innocent and careless boyhood, even the urgentappeals of his critical and perilous situation; all, all were forgottenin one intense delirium of absorbing love.
Anon he rose from his seat, and paced his room for some minutes, withhis eyes fixed on the ground. Then throwing off his clothes, and takingthe flower from the vase, which he had previously placed on the table,he deposited it in his bosom. 'Beautiful, beloved flower,' exclaimedhe; 'thus, thus will I win and wear your mistress!'