The Young Duke

  CHAPTER XIV.

  _Pride Has a Fall_

  THERE is nothing more strange, but nothing more certain, than thedifferent influence which the seasons of night and day exercise upon themoods of our minds. Him whom the moon sends to bed with a head full ofmisty meaning the sun-will summon in the morning with a brain clear andlucid as his beam. Twilight makes us pensive; Aurora is the goddess ofactivity. Despair curses at midnight; Hope blesses at noon.

  And the bright beams of Phoebus--why should this good old name beforgotten?--called up our Duke rather later than a monk at matins, ina less sublime disposition than that in which he had paced among theorange-trees of Dacre. His passion remained, but his poetry was gone. Hewas all confidence, and gaiety, and love, and panted for the moment whenhe could place his mother's coronet on the only head that was worthy toshare the proud fortunes of the house of Hauteville.

  'Luigi, I will rise. What is going on to-day?' 'The gentlemen are allout, your Grace.'

  'And the ladies?'

  'Are going to the Archery Ground, your Grace.'

  'Ah! she will be there, Luigi?'

  'Yes, your Grace.'

  'My robe, Luigi.'

  'Yes, your Grace.'

  'I forgot what I was going to say. Luigi!'

  'Yes, your Grace.'

  'Luigi, Luigi, Luigi,' hummed the Duke, perfectly unconscious, andbeating time with his brush. His valet stared, but more when his lord,with eyes fixed on the ground, fell into a soliloquy, not a word ofwhich, most provokingly, was audible, except to my reader.

  'How beautiful she looked yesterday upon the keep when she tried tofind Dacre! I never saw such eyes in my life! I must speak to Lawrenceimmediately. I think I must have her face painted in four positions,like that picture of Lady Alice Gordon by Sir Joshua. Her full faceis sublime; and yet there is a piquancy in the profile, which I am notsure--and yet again, when her countenance is a little bent towards you,and her neck gently turned, I think that is, after all--but thenwhen her eyes meet yours, full! oh! yes! yes! yes! That first look atDoncaster! It is impressed upon my brain like self-consciousness. Inever can forget it. But then her smile! When she sang on Tuesdaynight! By Heavens!' he exclaimed aloud, 'life with such a creature isimmortality!'

  About one o'clock the Duke descended into empty chambers. Not a soulwas to be seen. The birds had flown. He determined to go to the ArcheryGround. He opened the door of the music-room.

  He found Miss Dacre alone at a table, writing. She looked up, and hisheart yielded as her eye met his.

  'You do not join the nymphs?' asked the Duke.

  'I have lent my bow,' she said, 'to an able substitute.'

  She resumed her task, which he perceived was copying music. He advanced,he seated himself at the table, and began playing with a pen. He gazedupon her, his soul thrilled with unwonted sensations, his frame shookwith emotions which, for a moment, deprived him even of speech. Atlength he spoke in a low and tremulous tone:--

  'I fear I am disturbing you, Miss Dacre?'

  'By no means,' she said, with a courteous air; and then, remembering shewas a hostess, 'Is there anything that you require?'

  'Much; more than I can hope. O Miss Dacre! suffer me to tell you howmuch I admire, how much I love you!'

  She started, she stared at him with distended eyes, and her small mouthwas open like a ring.

  'My Lord!'

  'Yes!' he continued in a rapid and impassioned tone. 'I at lengthfind an opportunity of giving way to feelings which it has been longdifficult for me to control. O beautiful being! tell me, tell me that Iam blessed!'

  'My Lord! I--I am most honoured; pardon me if I say, most surprised.'

  'Yes! from the first moment that your ineffable loveliness rose onmy vision my mind has fed upon your image. Our acquaintance has onlyrealised, of your character, all that my imagination had preconceived,Such unrivalled beauty, such unspeakable grace, could only have beenthe companions of that exquisite taste and that charming delicacy which,even to witness, has added great felicity to my existence. Oh! tellme--tell me that they shall be for me something better than a transientspectacle. Condescend to share the fortune and the fate of one who onlyesteems his lot in life because it enables him to offer you a stationnot utterly unworthy of your transcendent excellence!'

  'I have permitted your Grace to proceed too far. For your--for my ownsake, I should sooner have interfered, but, in truth, I was so astoundedat your unexpected address that I have but just succeeded in recallingmy scattered senses. Let me again express to you my acknowledgments foran honour which I feel is great; but permit me to regret that for youroffer of your hand and fortune these acknowledgments are all I canreturn.'

  'Miss Dacre! am I then to wake to the misery of being rejected?'

  'A little week ago, Duke of St. James, we were strangers. It would behard if it were in the power of either of us now to deliver the other tomisery.'

  'You are offended, then, at the presumption which, on so slight anacquaintance, has aspired to your hand. It is indeed a high possession.I thought only of you, not of myself. Your perfections require no timefor recognition. Perhaps my imperfections require time for indulgence.Let me then hope!'

  'You have misconceived my meaning, and I regret that a foolish phraseshould occasion you the trouble of fresh solicitude, and me the pain ofrenewed refusal. In a word, it is not in my power to accept your hand.'

  He rose from the table, and stifled the groan which struggled in histhroat. He paced up and down the room with an agitated step and aconvulsed brow, which marked the contest of his passions. But he wasnot desperate. His heart was full of high resolves and mighty meanings,indefinite but great, He felt like some conqueror, who, marking thebattle going against him, proud in his infinite resources and invinciblepower, cannot credit the madness of a defeat. And the lady, she leanther head upon her delicate arm, and screened her countenance from hisscrutiny.

  He advanced.

  'Miss Dacre! pardon this prolonged intrusion; forgive this reneweddiscourse. But let me only hope that a more favoured rival is the causeof my despair, and I will thank you----'

  'My Lord Duke,' she said, looking up with a faint blush, but with aflashing eye, and in an audible and even energetic tone, 'the questionyou ask is neither fair nor manly; but, as you choose to press me, Iwill say that it requires no recollection of a third person to make medecline the honour which you intended me.'

  'Miss Dacre! you speak in anger, almost in bitterness. Believe me,' headded, rather with an air of pique, 'had I imagined from your conducttowards me that I was an object of dislike, I would have spared you thisinconvenience and myself this humiliation.'

  'At Castle Dacre, my conduct to all its inmates is the same. The Dukeof St. James, indeed, hath both hereditary and personal claims to beconsidered here as something better than a mere inmate; but your Gracehas elected to dissolve all connection with our house, and I am notdesirous of assisting you in again forming any.'

  'Harsh words, Miss Dacre!'

  'Harsher truth, my Lord Duke,' said Miss Dacre, rising from her seat,and twisting a pen with agitated energy. 'You have prolonged thisinterview, not I. Let it end, for I am not skilful in veiling my mind;and I should regret, here at least, to express what I have hithertosucceeded in concealing.'

  'It cannot end thus,' said his Grace: 'let me, at any rate, know theworst. You have, if not too much kindness, at least too much candour, topart sol' 'I am at a loss to understand,' said Miss Dacre, 'what otherobject our conversation can have for your Grace than to ascertain myfeelings, which I have already declared more than once, upon a pointwhich you have already more than once urged. If I have not beensufficiently explicit or sufficiently clear, let me tell you, sir, thatnothing but the request of a parent whom I adore would have induced meeven to speak to the person who had dared to treat him with contempt.''Miss Dacre!'

  'You are moved, or you affect to be moved. 'Tis well: if a word from astranger can thus affect you, you may be better able to compreh
end thefeelings of that person whose affections you have so long outraged; yourequal in blood, Duke of St. James, your superior in all other respects.'

  'Beautiful being!' said his Grace, advancing, falling on his knee, andseizing her hand. 'Pardon, pardon, pardon! Like your admirable sire,forgive; cast into oblivion all remembrance of my fatal youth. Is notyour anger, is not this moment, a bitter, an utter expiation for allmy folly, all my thoughtless, all my inexperienced folly; for it wasno worse? On my knees, and in the face of Heaven, let me pray you to bemine. I have staked my happiness upon this venture. In your power is myfate. On you it depends whether I shall discharge my duty to society,to the country to which I owe so much, or whether I shall move in itwithout an aim, an object, or a hope. Think, think only of the sympathyof our dispositions; the similarity of our tastes. Think, think only ofthe felicity that might be ours. Think of the universal good we mightachieve! Is there anything that human reason could require that we couldnot command? any object which human mind could imagine that we could notobtain? And, as for myself, I swear that I will be the creature of yourwill. Nay, nay! oaths are mockery, vows are idle! Is it possible toshare existence with you, beloved girl! without watching for your everywish, without--'

  'My Lord Duke, this must end. You do not recommend yourself to me bythis rhapsody. What do you know of me, that you should feel all this? Imay be different from what you expected; that is all. Another week, andanother woman may command a similar effusion. I do not believe you tobe insincere. There would be more hope for you if you were. You actfrom impulse, and not from principle. This is your best excuse for yourconduct to my father. It is one that I accept, but which will certainlyever prevent me from becoming your wife. Farewell!' 'Nay, nay! let usnot part in enmity!' 'Enmity and friendship are strong words; wordsthat are much abused. There is another, which must describe our feelingstowards the majority of mankind, and mine towards you. Substitute forenmity indifference.'

  She quitted the room: he remained there for some minutes, leaning on themantelpiece, and then rushed into the park. He hurried for some distancewith the rapid and uncertain step which betokens a tumultuous anddisordered mind. At length he found himself among the ruins of DacreAbbey. The silence and solemnity of the scene made him conscious, by thecontrast, of his own agitated existence; the desolation of the beautifulruin accorded with his own crushed and beautiful hopes. He sat himselfat the feet of the clustered columns, and, covering his face with hishands, he wept.

  They were the first tears that he had shed since childhood, and theywere agony. Men weep but once, but then their tears are blood. We thinkalmost their hearts must crack a little, so heartless are they everafter. Enough of this.

  It is bitter to leave our fathers hearth for the first time; bitter isthe eve of our return, when a thousand fears rise in our haunted souls.Bitter are hope deferred, and self-reproach, and power unrecognised.Bitter is poverty; bitterer still is debt. It is bitter to be neglected;it is more bitter to be misunderstood. It is bitter to lose an onlychild. It is bitter to look upon the land which once was ours. Bitter isa sister's woe, a brother's scrape; bitter a mother's tear, and bittererstill a father's curse. Bitter are a briefless bag, a curate's bread, adiploma that brings no fee. Bitter is half-pay!

  It is bitter to muse on vanished youth; it is bitter to lose anelection or a suit. Bitter are rage suppressed, vengeance unwreaked, andprize-money kept back. Bitter are a failing crop, a glutted market, anda shattering spec. Bitter are rents in arrear and tithes in kind.Bitter are salaries reduced and perquisites destroyed. Bitter is a tax,particularly if misapplied; a rate, particularly if embezzled. Bitter isa trade too full, and bitterer still a trade that has worn out. Bitteris a bore!

  It is bitter to lose one's hair or teeth. It is bitter to find ourannual charge exceed our income. It is bitter to hear of others' famewhen we are boys. It is bitter to resign the seals we fain would keep.It is bitter to hear the winds blow when we have ships at sea, orfriends. Bitter are a broken friendship and a dying love. Bitter a womanscorned, a man betrayed!

  Bitter is the secret woe which none can share. Bitter are a brutalhusband and a faithless wife, a silly daughter and a sulky son. Bitterare a losing card, a losing horse. Bitter the public hiss, the privatesneer. Bitter are old age without respect, manhood without wealth, youthwithout fame. Bitter is the east wind's blast; bitter a stepdame's kiss.It is bitter to mark the woe which we cannot relieve. It is bitter todie in a foreign land.

  But bitterer far than this, than these, than all, is waking from ourfirst delusion! For then we first feel the nothingness of self; thathell of sanguine spirits. All is dreary, blank, and cold. The sun ofhope sets without a ray, and the dim night of dark despair shadows onlyphantoms. The spirits that guard round us in our pride have gone. Fancy,weeping, flies. Imagination droops her glittering pinions and sinks intothe earth. Courage has no heart, and love seems a traitor. A busy demonwhispers in our ear that all is vain and worthless, and we among thevainest of a worthless crew!

  And so our young friend here now depreciated as much as he had beforeexaggerated his powers. There seemed not on the earth's face a moreforlorn, a more feeble, a less estimable wretch than himself, but justnow a hero. O! what a fool, what a miserable, contemptible fool was he!With what a light tongue and lighter heart had he spoken of this womanwho despised, who spurned him! His face blushed, ay! burnt, atthe remembrance of his reveries and his fond monologues! the veryrecollection made him shudder with disgust. He looked up to see if anydemon were jeering him among the ruins.

  His heart was so crushed that hope could not find even one desolatechamber to smile in. His courage was so cowed that, far from indulgingin the distant romance to which, under these circumstances, we sometimesfly, he only wondered at the absolute insanity which, for a moment, hadpermitted him to aspire to her possession. 'Sympathy of dispositions!Similarity of tastes, forsooth! Why, we are different existences! Naturecould never have made us for the same world or with the same clay! Oconsummate being! why, why did we meet? Why, why are my eyes atlength unsealed? Why, why do I at length feel conscious of my utterworthlessness? O God! I am miserable!' He arose and hastened to thehouse. He gave orders to Luigi and his people to follow him to Rosemountwith all practicable speed, and having left a note for his host with theusual excuse, he mounted his horse, and in half an hour's time, with acountenance like a stormy sea, was galloping through the park gates ofDacre.

  BOOK III.