CHAPTER IX.
_A Last Appeal_
HE ROSE early, and managed to reach Dacre at the breakfast hour of thefamily. He discharged his chaise at the Park gate, and entered the houseunseen. He took his way along a corridor lined with plants, which ledto the small and favourite room in which the morning meetings of May andhimself always took place when they were alone. As he lightly steppedalong, he heard a voice that he could not mistake, as it were inanimated converse. Agitated by sounds which ever created in him emotion,for a moment he paused. He starts, his eye sparkles with strangedelight, a flush comes over his panting features, half of modesty, halfof triumph. He listens to his own speech from the lips of the woman heloves. She is reading to her father with melodious energy the passagein which he describes the high qualities of his Catholic neighbours. Theintonations of the voice indicate the deep sympathy of the reader. Sheceases. He hears the admiring exclamation of his host. He rallies hisstrength, he advances, he stands before them. She utters almost a shriekof delightful surprise as she welcomes him.
How much there was to say! how much to ask! how much to answer! Even Mr.Dacre poured forth questions like a boy. But May: she could notspeak, but leant forward in her chair with an eager ear, and a look ofcongratulation, that rewarded him for all his exertion. Everything wasto be told. How he went; whether he slept in the mail; where he went;what he did; whom he saw; what they said; what they thought; all must beanswered. Then fresh exclamations of wonder, delight, and triumph.The Duke forgot everything but his love, and for three hours felt thehappiest of men.
At length Mr. Dacre rose and looked at his watch with a shaking head. 'Ihave a most important appointment,' said he, 'and I must gallop to keepit. God bless you, my dear St. James! I could stay talking with you forever; but you must be utterly wearied. Now, my dear boy, go to bed.'
'To bed!' exclaimed the Duke. 'Why, Tom Rawlins would laugh at you!'
'And who is Tom Rawlins?'
'Ah! I cannot tell you everything; but assuredly I am not going to bed.'
'Well, May, I leave him to your care; but do not let him talk any more.'
'Oh! sir,' said the Duke, 'I really had forgotten. I am the bearer toyou, sir, of a letter from Mr. Arundel Dacre.' He gave it him.
As Mr. Dacre read the communication, his countenance changed, andthe smile which before was on his face, vanished. But whether he weredispleased, or only serious, it was impossible to ascertain, althoughthe Duke watched him narrowly. At length he said, 'May! here is a letterfrom Arundel, in which you are much interested.'
'Give it me, then, papa!'
'No, my love; we must speak of this together. But I am pressed for time.When I come home. Remember.' He quitted the room.
They were alone: the Duke began again talking, and Miss Dacre put herfinger to her mouth, with a smile.
'I assure you,' said he, 'I am not wearied. I slept at----y, and theonly thing I now want is a good walk. Let me be your companion thismorning!'
'I was thinking of paying nurse a visit. What say you?'
'Oh! I am ready; anywhere.'
She ran for her bonnet, and he kissed her handkerchief, which she leftbehind, and, I believe, everything else in the room which bore theslightest relation to her. And then the recollection of Arundel's lettercame over him, and his joy fled. When she returned, he was standingbefore the fire, gloomy and dull.
'I fear you are tired,' she said.
'Not in the least.'
'I shall never forgive myself if all this exertion make you ill.'
'Why not?'
'Because, although I will not tell papa, I am sure my nonsense is thecause of your having gone to London.'
'It is probable; for you are the cause of all that does not disgraceme.' He advanced, and was about to seize her hand; but the accursedminiature occurred to him, and he repressed his feelings, almost witha groan. She, too, had turned away her head, and was busily engaged intending a flower.
'Because she has explicitly declared her feelings to me, and, sincerein that declaration, honours me by a friendship of which alone I amunworthy, am I to persecute her with my dishonoured overtures--the twicerejected? No, no!'
They took their way through the park, and he soon succeeded inre-assuming the tone that befitted their situation. Traits of thedebate, and the debaters, which newspapers cannot convey, and whichhe had not yet recounted; anecdotes of Annesley and their friends, andother gossip, were offered for her amusement. But if she were amused,she was not lively, but singularly, unusually silent. There was only onepoint on which she seemed interested, and that was his speech. When hewas cheered, and who particularly cheered; who gathered round him,and what they said after the debate: on all these points she was mostinquisitive.
They rambled on: nurse was quite forgotten; and at length they foundthemselves in the beautiful valley, rendered more lovely by the ruins ofthe abbey. It was a place that the Duke could never forget, and which heever avoided. He had never renewed his visit since he first gave vent,among its reverend ruins, to his overcharged and most tumultuous heart.
They stood in silence before the holy pile with its vaulting arches andcrumbling walls, mellowed by the mild lustre of the declining sun. Nottwo years had fled since here he first staggered after the breakingglimpses of self-knowledge, and struggled to call order from out thechaos of his mind. Not two years, and yet what a change had come overhis existence! How diametrically opposite now were all his thoughts, andviews, and feelings, to those which then controlled his fatal soul! Howcapable, as he firmly believed, was he now of discharging his duty tohis Creator and his fellow-men! and yet the boon that ought to have beenthe reward for all this self-contest, the sweet seal that ought to haveratified this new contract of existence, was wanting.
'Ah!' he exclaimed aloud, and in a voice of anguish, 'ah! if I ne'er hadleft the walls of Dacre, how different might have been my lot!'
A gentle but involuntary pressure reminded him of the companion whom,for once in his life, he had for a moment forgotten.
'I feel it is madness; I feel it is worse than madness; but must I yieldwithout a struggle, and see my dark fate cover me without an effort? Oh!yes, here, even here, where I have wept over your contempt, even here,although I subject myself to renewed rejection, let--let me tell you,before we part, how I adore you!'
She was silent; a strange courage came over his spirit; and, witha reckless boldness, and rapid voice, a misty sight, and totalunconsciousness of all other existence, he resumed the words which hadbroken out, as if by inspiration.
'I am not worthy of you. Who is? I was worthless. I did not know it.Have not I struggled to be pure? have not I sighed on my nightly pillowfor your blessing? Oh! could you read my heart (and sometimes, I think,you can read it, for indeed, with all its faults, it is without guile) Idare to hope that you would pity me. Since we first met, your imagehas not quitted my conscience for a second. When you thought me leastworthy; when you thought me vile, or mad, oh! by all that is sacred,I was the most miserable wretch that ever breathed, and flew todissipation only for distraction!
'Not--not for a moment have I ceased to think you the best, the mostbeautiful, the most enchanting and endearing creature that ever gracedour earth. Even when I first dared to whisper my insolent affection,believe me, even then, your presence controlled my spirit as no otherwoman had. I bent to you then in pride and power. The station that Icould then offer you was not utterly unworthy of your perfection. I amnow a beggar, or, worse, an insolvent noble, and dare I--dare I to askyou to share the fortunes that are broken, and the existence that isobscure?'
She turned; her arm fell over his shoulder; she buried her head in hisbreast.