CHAPTER V.
_Which Contains Some Rather Painful Explanations_.
THE reader will not perhaps be much surprised that the Marquis ofMontfort soon became the declared admirer of Miss Temple. He made theimportant declaration after a very different fashion from the unhappyFerdinand Armine: he made it to the lady's father. Long persuaded thatMiss Temple's illness had its origin in the mind, and believing that inthat case the indisposition of the young lady had probably arisen, fromone cause or another, in the disappointment of her affections, LordMontfort resolved to spare her feelings, unprepared, the pain of apersonal appeal. The beauty, the talent, the engaging disposition, andthe languid melancholy of Miss Temple, had excited his admiration andpity, and had finally won a heart capable of deep affections, butgifted with great self-control. He did not conceal from Mr. Temple theconviction that impelled him to the course which he had thought properto pursue, and this delicate conduct relieved Mr. Temple greatly fromthe unavoidable embarrassment of his position. Mr. Temple contentedhimself with communicating to Lord Montfort that his daughter hadindeed entered into an engagement with one who was not worthy of heraffections, and that the moment her father had been convinced of thecharacter of the individual, he had quitted England with his daughter.He expressed his unqualified approbation of the overture of LordMontfort, to whom he was indeed sincerely attached, and which gratifiedall those worldly feelings from which Mr. Temple was naturally notexempt. In such an alliance Mr. Temple recognised the only mode by whichhis daughter's complete recovery could be secured. Lord Montfort inhimself offered everything which it would seem that the reasonable fancyof woman could desire. He was young, handsome, amiable, accomplished,sincere, and exceedingly clever; while, at the same time, as Mr.Temple was well aware, his great position would insure that reasonablegratification of vanity from which none are free, which is a fertilesource of happiness, and which would, at all times, subdue any bitterrecollections which might occasionally arise to cloud the retrospect ofhis daughter.
It was Mr. Temple, who, exerting all the arts of his abandonedprofession, now indulging in intimations and now in panegyric,conveying to his daughter, with admirable skill, how much the intimateacquaintance with Lord Montfort contributed to his happiness, graduallyfanning the feeling of gratitude to so kind a friend, which already hadbeen excited in his daughter's heart, into one of zealous regard, andfinally seizing his opportunity with practised felicity, it was Mr.Temple who had at length ventured to communicate to his daughter theoverture which had been confided to him.
Henrietta shook her head.
'I have too great a regard for Lord Montfort to accede to his wishes,'said Miss Temple. 'He deserves something better than a bruised spirit,if not a broken heart.'
'But, my dearest Henrietta, you really take a wrong, an impracticableview of affairs. Lord Montfort must be the best judge of what willcontribute to his own happiness.'
'Lord Montfort is acting under a delusion,' replied Miss Temple. 'If heknew all that had occurred he would shrink from blending his life withmine.'
'Lord Montfort knows everything,' said the father, 'that is, everythinghe should know.'
'Indeed!' said Miss Temple. 'I wonder he does not look upon me withcontempt; at the least, with pity.'
'He loves you, Henrietta,' said her father.
'Ah! love, love, love! name not love to me. No, Lord Montfort cannotlove me. It is not love that he feels.'
'You have gained his heart, and he offers you his hand. Are not theseproofs of love?'
'Generous, good young man!' exclaimed Henrietta; 'I respect, I admirehim; I might have loved him. But it is too late.'
'My beloved daughter, oh! do not say so! For my sake, do not say so,'exclaimed Mr. Temple. 'I have no wish, I have had no wish, my child, butfor your happiness. Lean upon your father, listen to him, be guided byhis advice. Lord Montfort possesses every quality which can contributeto the happiness of woman. A man so rarely gifted I never met. There isnot a woman in the world, however exalted her rank, however admirableher beauty, however gifted her being, who might not feel happy andhonoured in the homage of such a man. Believe me, my dearest daughter,that this is an union which must lead to happiness. Indeed, were it tooccur, I could die content. I should have no more cares, no more hopes.All would then have happened that the most sanguine parent, even withsuch a child as you, could wish or imagine. We should be so happy! Forhis sake, for my sake, for all our sakes, dearest Henrietta, grant hiswish. Believe me, believe me, he is indeed worthy of you.'
'I am not worthy of him,' said Henrietta, in a melancholy voice.
'Ah, Henrietta, who is like you!' exclaimed the fond and excited father.
At this moment a servant announced that Lord Montfort would, withtheir permission, wait upon them. Henrietta seemed plunged in thought.Suddenly she said, 'I cannot rest until this is settled. Papa, leave mewith him a few moments alone.' Mr. Temple retired.
A faint blush rose to the cheek of her visitor when he perceivedthat Miss Temple was alone. He seated himself at her side, but he wasunusually constrained.
'My dear Lord Montfort,' said Miss Temple,' calmly, 'I have to speakupon a painful subject, but I have undergone so much suffering, that Ishall not shrink from this. Papa has informed me this morning that youhave been pleased to pay me the highest compliment that a man can pay awoman. I wish to thank you for it. I wish to acknowledge it in terms thestrongest and the warmest I can use. I am sensible of the honour, thehigh honour that you have intended me. It is indeed an honour of whichany woman might be proud. You have offered me a heart of which I knowthe worth. No one can appreciate the value of your character betterthan myself. I do justice, full justice, to your virtues, youraccomplishments, your commanding talents, and your generous soul. Exceptmy father, there is no one who holds so high a place in my affectionas yourself. You have been my kind and true friend; and a kind and truefriendship, faithful and sincere, I return you. More than friends wenever can be, for I have no heart to give.'
'Ah, dearest Miss Temple,' said Lord Montfort, agitated, 'I ask nothingbut that friendship; but let me enjoy it in your constant society; letthe world recognise my right to be your consoler.'
'You deserve a better and a brighter fate. I should not be your friendif I could enter into such an engagement.'
'The only aim of my life is to make you happy,' said Lord Montfort.
'I am sure that I ought to be happy with such a friend,' said HenriettaTemple, 'and I _am_ happy. How different is the world to me from whatit was before I knew you! Ah, why will you disturb this life ofconsolation? Why will you call me back to recollections that I wouldfain banish? Why------'
'Dearest Miss Temple,' said Lord Montfort, 'do not reproach me! Youmake me wretched. Remember, dear lady, that I have not sought thisconversation; that if I were presumptuous in my plans and hopes, Iat least took precautions that I should be the only sufferer by theirnonfulfilment.'
'Best and most generous of men! I would not for the world be unkind toyou. Pardon my distracted words. But you know all? Has papa told youall? It is my wish.'
'It is not mine,' replied Lord Montfort; 'I wish not to penetrate yoursorrows, but only to soothe them.'
'Oh, if we had but met earlier,' said Henrietta Temple; 'if we had butknown each other a year ago! when I was, not worthy of you, but moreworthy of you. But now, with health shattered, the lightness of myspirit vanished, the freshness of my feelings gone, no, my kind friend,my dear and gentle friend! my affection for you is too sincere to accedeto your request; and a year hence Lord Montfort will thank me for mydenial.'
'I scarcely dare to speak,' said Lord Montfort, in a low tone, as ifsuppressing his emotion, 'if I were to express my feelings, I mightagitate you. I will not then venture to reply to what you have urged;to tell you I think you the most beautiful and engaging being that everbreathed; or how I dote upon your pensive spirit, and can sit for hourstogether gazing on the language of those dark eyes. O Miss Temple, to meyou never could have be
en more beautiful, more fascinating. Alas! I maynot even breathe my love; I am unfortunate. And yet, sweet lady, pardonthis agitation I have occasioned you; try to love me yet; endure atleast my presence; and let me continue to cherish that intimacy thathas thrown over my existence a charm so inexpressible.' So saying, heventured to take her hand, and pressed it with devotion to his lips.