CHAPTER VI.
_Which Contains an Event Not Less Important Than the One Which Concluded Our Second Book_.
LORD MONTFORT was scarcely disheartened by this interview with MissTemple. His lordship was a devout believer in the influence of time. Itwas unnatural to suppose that one so young and so gifted as Henriettacould ultimately maintain that her career was terminated because heraffections had been disappointed by an intimacy which was confessedly ofso recent an origin as the fatal one in question. Lord Montfort differedfrom most men in this respect, that the consciousness of this intimacydid not cost him even a pang. He preferred indeed to gain the heart ofa woman like Miss Temple, who, without having in the least degreeforfeited the innate purity of her nature and the native freshness ofher feelings, had yet learnt in some degree to penetrate the mystery ofthe passions, to one so untutored in the world's ways, that she mighthave bestowed upon him a heart less experienced indeed, but not moreinnocent. He was convinced that the affection of Henrietta, if onceobtained, might be relied on, and that the painful past would only makeher more finely appreciate his high-minded devotion, and amid all thedazzling characters and seducing spectacles of the world, cling tohim with a firmer gratitude and a more faithful fondness. And yet LordMontfort was a man of deep emotions, and of a very fastidious taste.He was a man of as romantic a temperament as Ferdinand Armine; butwith Lord Montfort, life was the romance of reason; with Ferdinand,the romance of imagination. The first was keenly alive to all theimperfections of our nature, but he also gave that nature credit forall its excellencies. He observed finely, he calculated nicely, andhis result was generally happiness. Ferdinand, on the contrary, neitherobserved nor calculated. His imagination created fantasies, and hisimpetuous passions struggled to realise them.
Although Lord Montfort carefully abstained from pursuing the subjectwhich nevertheless engrossed his thoughts, he had a vigilant and skilfulally in Mr. Temple. That gentleman lost no opportunity of pleading hislordship's cause, while he appeared only to advocate his own; and thiswas the most skilful mode of controlling the judgment of his daughter.
Henrietta Temple, the most affectionate and dutiful of children, left toreflect, sometimes asked herself whether she were justified, fromwhat she endeavoured to believe was a mere morbid feeling, in notaccomplishing the happiness of that parent who loved her so well? Therehad been no concealment of her situation, or of her sentiments. Therehad been no deception as to the past. Lord Montfort knew all. She toldhim that she could bestow only a broken spirit. Lord Montfort aspiredonly to console it. She was young. It was not probable that the deathwhich she had once sighed for would be accorded to her. Was she alwaysto lead this life? Was her father to pass the still long career whichprobably awaited him in ministering to the wearisome caprices of aquerulous invalid? This was a sad return for all his goodness: a gloomycatastrophe to all his bright hopes. And if she could ever consent toblend her life with another's, what individual could offer pretensionswhich might ensure her tranquillity, or even happiness, equal to thoseproffered by Lord Montfort? Ah! who was equal to him? so amiable, sogenerous, so interesting! It was in such a mood of mind that Henriettawould sometimes turn with a glance of tenderness and gratitude to thatbeing who seemed to breathe only for her solace and gratification. Ifit be agonising to be deserted, there is at least consolation in beingcherished. And who cherished her? One whom all admired; one to gainwhose admiration, or even attention, every woman sighed. What was shebefore she knew Montfort? If she had not known Montfort, what would shehave been even at this present? She recalled the hours of anguish,the long days of bitter mortification, the dull, the wearisome, thecheerless, hopeless, uneventful hours that were her lot when lying onher solitary sofa at Pisa, brooding over the romance of Armine and allits passion; the catastrophe of Ducie, and all its baseness. And nowthere was not a moment without kindness, without sympathy, withoutconsiderate attention and innocent amusement. If she were querulous, noone murmured; if she were capricious, everyone yielded to her fancies;but if she smiled, everyone was happy. Dear, noble Montfort, thinewas the magic that had worked this change! And for whom were all thesechoice exertions made? For one whom another had trifled with, deserted,betrayed! And Montfort knew it. He dedicated his life to the consolationof a despised woman. Leaning on the arm of Lord Montfort, HenriettaTemple might meet the eye of Ferdinand Armine and his rich bride, atleast without feeling herself an object of pity!
Time had flown. The Italian spring, with all its splendour, illuminedthe glittering palaces and purple shores of Naples. Lord Montfort andhis friends were returning from Capua in his galley. Miss Temple wasseated between her father and their host. The Ausonian clime, thebeautiful scene, the sweet society, had all combined to produce a day ofexquisite enjoyment. Henrietta Temple could not refrain from expressingher delight. Her eye sparkled like the star of eve that glittered overthe glowing mountains; her cheek was as radiant as the sunset.
'Ah! what a happy day this has been!' she exclaimed.
The gentle pressure of her hand reminded her of the delight herexclamation had afforded one of her companions. With a trembling heartLord Montfort leant back in the galley; and yet, ere the morning sunhad flung its flaming beams over the city, Henrietta Temple was hisbetrothed.
BOOK VI.