CHAPTER V.
_Arundel's Disappointment_
THE storm was past. He vowed that a dark thought should not again crosshis mind. It was fated that she should not be his; but it was somemiserable satisfaction that he was only rejected in favour of anattachment which had grown with her years, and had strengthened with herstature, and in deference to an engagement hallowed by time as well asby affection. It was deadly indeed to remember that Fate seemed to havedestined him for that happy position, and that his folly had rejectedthe proffered draught of bliss. He blasphemed against the Fitz-pompeys.However, he did not leave Dacre at the same time as Arundel, butlingered on. His affairs were far from being arranged. The Irishbusiness gave great trouble, and he determined therefore to remain.
It was ridiculous to talk of feeding a passion which was not susceptibleof increase. Her society was Heaven; and he resolved to enjoy it,although he was to be expelled. As for his loss of fortune, it gave himnot a moment's care. Without her, he felt he could not live in England,and, even ruined, he would be a match for an Italian prince.
So he continued her companion, each day rising with purer feelings anda more benevolent heart; each day more convinced of the falseness of hispast existence, and of the possibility of happiness to a well-regulatedmind; each day more conscious that duty is nothing more thanself-knowledge, and the performance of it consequently the developmentof feelings which are the only true source of self-gratification. Hemourned over the opportunities which he had forfeited of conducing tothe happiness of others and himself. Sometimes he had resolved to remainin England and devote himself to his tenantry; but passion blinded him,and he felt that he had erred too far ever to regain the right road.
The election for which Arundel Dacre was a candidate came on. Each daythe state of the poll arrived. It was nearly equal to the last. Theiragitation was terrible, but forgotten in the deep mortification whichthey experienced at the announcement of his defeat. He talked to thepublic boldly of petitioning, and his certainty of ultimate success; buthe let them know privately that he had no intention of the first, andno chance of the second. Even Mr. Dacre could mot conceal his deepdisappointment; but May was quite in despair. Even if her father couldfind means of securing him a seat another time, the present greatopportunity was lost.
'Surely we can make some arrangement for next session,' said the Duke,whispering hope to her.
'Oh! no, no, no; so much depended upon this. It is not merely his takinga part in the debate, but--but Arundel is so odd, and everything wasstaked upon this. I cannot tell you what depended upon it. He will leaveEngland directly.'
She did not attempt to conceal her agitation. The Duke rose, and pacedthe room in a state scarcely less moved. A thought had suddenly flashedupon him. Their marriage doubtless depended upon this success. He knewsomething of Arundel Dacre, and had heard more. He was convinced of thetruth of his suspicion. Either the nephew would not claim her handuntil he had carved out his own fortunes, or perhaps the uncle made hisdistinction the condition of his consent. Yet this was odd. It was allodd. A thousand things had occurred which equally puzzled him. Yet hehad seen enough to weigh against a thousand thoughts.