here again."
Mel. That probably may be, though it is nearly two months yet to winter.
Al. Great changes may take place within that time.
Mel. Yes, changes must take place; but nothing, I hope, to embitterpresent prospects.
Al. (peevishly.) As it respects yourself, I trust not, madam.
Mel. (tenderly.) And I sincerely hope not, as it respects you, Alonzo.
Al. That wish, I believe, is vain.
Mel. Why so ominous a prediction?
Al. The premises, from which it is drawn, are correct.
Mel. Your feelings accord with the season, Alonzo; you are melancholy.Shall we return?
Al. I ask your pardon, madam; I know I am unsociable. You speak ofreturning: You know the occasion of my being here.
Mel. For the purpose of visiting your friends, I presume.
Al. And no other?
She made no reply.
Al. You cannot have forgotten your own appointment, and consequentengagement?
She made no answer.
Al. I know, Melissa, that you are incapable of duplicity or evasion.I have promised, and now repeat the declaration, that I will silentlysubmit to your decision. This you have engaged to make, and this is thetime you have appointed. The pains of present suspense can scarcely besurpassed by the pangs of disappointment. On your part you have nothingto fear. I trust you have candidly determined, and will decideexplicitly.
Mel. (sighing.) I am placed in an exceedingly delicate situation.
Al. I know you are; but your own honour, your own peace, require thatyou should extricate yourself from the perplexing embarrassment.
Mel. I am sensible they do. It must--it shall be done.
Al. And the sooner it is done the better.
Mel. That I am convinced of. I now know that I have been inadvertentlyindiscreet. I have admitted the addresses of Beauman and yourself,without calculating or expecting the consequences. You have both treatedme honourably, and with respect. You are both on equal grounds as toyour character and standing in life. With Beauman I became firstacquainted. As it relates to him, some new arrangements have taken placesince you were here, which----
Al. (interrupting her, with emotion.) Of those arrangements I amacquainted.
Mel. (surprised.) By what means were you informed thereof?
Al. I received it from a friend in your neighbourhood.
A considerable pause ensued.
Al. You see, Melissa, I am prepared for the event.--She was silent.
Al. I have mentioned before, that, whatever be your decision, noimpropriety can attach to you. I might not, indeed, from variouscircumstances, and from the information I possess, I perhaps should not,have given you farther trouble on the occasion, had it not been fromyour own direction and appointment. And I am now willing to retirewithout further explanation, without giving you the pain of an expressdecision, if you think the measure expedient. Your declaration can onlybe a matter of form, the consequence of which I know, and my propositionmay save your feelings.
Mel. No, Alonzo; my reputation depends on my adherence to my firstdetermination; justice to yourself and to Beauman also demand it. Afterwhat has passed, I should be considered as acting capriciously andinconsistently, should I depart from it. Beauman will be here to-morrow,and----
Al. To-morrow, madam?
Mel. He will be here to-morrow, and you must consent to stay with usuntil that time; the matter shall then be decided.
Al. I--yes--it shall be as you say, madam. Make your arrangements as youplease.
Evening had now spread her dusky mantle over the face of nature. Thestars glistened in the sky. The breeze's rustling wing was in the tree.The "slitty sound" of the low murmuring brook, and the far offwater-fall, were faintly heard. The twinkling fire-fly arose from thesurrounding verdure and illuminated the air with a thousand transientgleams. The mingling discordance of curs and watch-dogs echoed in thedistant village, from whence the frequent lights darted their palelylustre thro' the gloom. The solitary whippoorwills stationed themselvesalong the woody glens, the groves and rocky pastures, and sung a requiemto departed summer. A dark cloud was rising in the west, across whosegloomy front the vivid lightning bent its forky spires.
Alonzo and Melissa moved slowly to the village; she appeared enrapturedwith the melancholy splendours of the evening, but the other subjectengaged the mental attention of Alonzo.
Beauman arrived the next day. He gave his hand to Alonzo with seemingwarmth of friendship. If it was reciprocated, it must have beenaffected. There was no alteration in the manners and conversation ofMelissa: her conversation, as usual, was sprightly and interesting.After dinner she retired, and her father requested Alonzo and Beauman towithdraw with him to a private room. After they were seated, the oldgentleman thus addressed them:
"I have called you here, gentlemen, to perform my duty as a parent to mydaughter, and as a friend to you. You are both suitors to Melissa; whileyour addresses were merely formal, they were innocent; but when theybecame serious they were dangerous. Your pretensions I consider equal,and between honourable pretenders, who are worthy of my daughter,I shall not attempt to influence her choice. That choice, however, canrest only on one: she has engaged to decide between you. I am come tomake, in her name, this decision. The following are my terms:--Noquarrel or difficulty shall arise between you, gentlemen, in consequenceof her determination. Nothing shall go abroad respecting the affair;it shall be ended under my roof. As soon as I have pronounced herdeclaration, you shall both depart and absent my house for at least twoweeks, as it would be improper for my daughter to see either of you atpresent: after that period I shall be happy to receive yourvisits."--Alonzo and Beauman pledged their honour to abide implicitly bythese injunctions. Her father then observed--"This, gentlemen, is all Irequire. I have observed that I considered your pretensions equal: sohas my daughter treated them. You have both made professions to her; shehas appointed a time to answer you. That time has arrived, and I nowinform you that she has decided in favour of--Alonzo."
* * * * *
The declaration of Melissa's father burst upon the mental powers ofBeauman, like a sudden and tremendous clap of thunder on the deep andsolemn silence of night. Unaccustomed to disappointment, he hadcalculated on success. His addresses to the ladies had ever beenhonourably received.
Melissa was the first whose charms were capable of rendering themsincere. He was not ignorant of Alonzo's attention to her: it gave himhowever but little uneasiness. He believed that his superiorqualifications would eclipse the pretensions of his rival. He consideredhimself a connoisseur in character, especially in the character of theladies. He conformed to their taste; he flattered their foibles, andobsequiously bowed to the minutia of female volatility. He consideredhimself skilled in the language of the heart; and he trusted that fromhis pre-eminent powers in the science of affection, he had only to see,to sue and to conquer. He had frankly offered his hand to Melissa, andpressed her for a decisive answer. This from time to time she suspended,and finally appointed a day to give him and Alonzo a determinate answer,though neither knew the arrangements made with the other.
Finding, however, the dilemma in which she was placed, she hadpreviously consulted her parents. Her father had no objection to herchoosing between two persons of equal claims to affluence andreputation; this choice she had made, and her father was considered themost proper person to pronounce it.
When Beauman had urged his suit to Melissa, he supposed that herhesitations, delays and suspensions, were only the effects of maidendiffidence and timidity. He had no suspicions of her ultimatelyrejecting it; and when she finally named the day of decision, he wasconfident she would decide in his favour. These sentiments he hadcommunicated to the person who had written to Alonzo, intimating thatMelissa had fixed a time which was to crown his happiest wishes.
He had listened therefore attentively to the words of Melissa's father,momentarily expecting to hear himself declared the f
avourite choice ofthe fair.
What then must have been his disappointment when the name of Alonzo waspronounced instead of his own! The highly finished scene of pleasure andfuture prosperity which his ardent imagination had depicted, hadvanished in a moment. The rainbow glories which gilded his youthfulhorizon, had faded in an instant--the bright sun of his early hopes hadset in mournful darkness. The summons of death would not have been moreunexpected, or more shocking to his imagination.
Very different were the sensations which inspired the bosom of Alonzo.He had not even calculated on a decision in his own favour. He believedthat Beauman would be the choice of Melissa. She had told him that theform of decision was necessary to save appearances: with this form hecomplied because she desired it, not because he expected the resultwould be in his favour. He had not therefore attended to the words ofMelissa's father with that eagerness which favourable anticipationscommonly produce. But when his name was mentioned; when he found he wasthe choice--the happy favourite of Melissa's affection, every tenderpassion of his soul became