Book: Marriage

S >> Susan Edmonstone Ferrier >> Marriage




"Your first impulse may perhaps be to accuse me of coldness and
ingratitude in quitting the place and country you inhabit, and resigning
you back to yourself, without personally taking leave of you; but I
trust that you will, on reflection, absolve me from the charge.

"Could I
have had any grounds to suppose that a personal interview would be
productive of comfort to you, I would have joyfully supported the
sufferings it would have inflicted on myself. But question your own
heart as to the use you would have made of such a meeting; bear in mind
that Lady Audley has my solemn promise never to be yours--a promise not
lightly given; then imagine what must have been an interview between us
under such circumstances.

"In proof of an affection which I can have no reason to doubt, I conjure
you to listen to the last request I shall ever make to my dear cousin.
Give me the heartfelt satisfaction to know that my departure has put an
end to those disagreements between mother and son of which I have been
the innocent cause.

"You have no reason to blame Lady Audley for this last step of
mine. I have not been intimidated--threats, believe me, never would have
extorted from me a promise to renounce you, had not Virtue herself
dictated the sacrifice; and my reward will spring from the conviction
that, as far as my judgment could discern, I have acted right.

"Forget, I entreat you, this inauspicious passion. Resolve, like me, to
resign yourself, without murmuring, to what is now past recall; and,
instead of indulging melancholy, regain, by a timely exertion of mind
and body, that serenity which is the portion of those who have obeyed
the dictates of rectitude.

"Farewell, Sir Edmund. May every happiness attend your future life!
While I strive to forget my ill-fated affection, the still stronger
feelings of gratitude and esteem for you can never fade from the heart
of

"ALICIA MALCOLM."

To say that no tears were shed during the composition of this letter
would be to overstrain fortitude beyond natural bounds. With difficulty
Alicia checked the effusions of her pen. She wished to have said much
more, and to have soothed the agony of renunciation by painting with
warmth her tenderness and her regret; but reason urged that, in exciting
his feelings and displaying her own, she would defeat the chief purpose
of her letter. She hastily closed and directed it, with a feeling almost
akin to despair.

The necessary arrangements for the journey having been hastily made, the
ladies set out two days after Sir Edmund had so hastily quitted them.
The uncomplaining Alicia buried her woes in her own bosom; and neither
murmurs on the one hand, nor reproaches on the other, were heard.

At the end of four days the travellers entered Scotland; and when they
stopped for the night, Alicia, fatigued and dispirited, retired
immediately to her apartment.

She had been there but a few minutes when the chambermaid knocked at the
door, and informed her that she was wanted below.

Supposing that Lady Audley had sent for her, she followed the girl
without observing that she was conducted in an opposite direction; when,
upon entering an apartment, what was her astonishment at finding
herself, not in the presence of Lady Audley, but in the arms of Sir
Edmund! In the utmost agitation, she sought to disengage herself from
his almost frantic embrace; while he poured forth a torrent of rapturous
exclamations, and swore that no human power should ever divide them
again.

"I have followed your steps, dearest Alicia, from the moment I received
your letter. We are now in Scotland-in this blessed land of liberty.
Everything is arranged; the clergyman is now in waiting; and in five
minutes you shall be my own beyond the power of fate to sever us."

Too much agitated to reply, Alicia wept in silence; and in the delight
of once more beholding him she had thought never more to behold, forgot,
for a moment, the duty she had imposed upon herself. But the native
energy of her character returned. She raised her head, and attempted to
withdraw from the encircling arms of her cousin.

"Never until you have vowed to be mine! The clergyman--the
carriage--everything is in readiness. Speak but the word, dearest." And
he knelt at her feet.

At this juncture the door opened, and, pale with rage, her eyes flashing
fire, Lady Audley stood before them. A dreadful scene now ensued. Sir
Edmund disdained to enter into any justification of his conduct, or even
to reply to the invectives of his mother, but lavished the most tender
assiduities on Alicia; who, overcome more by the conflicts of her own
heart than with alarm at Lady Audley's violence, sat the pale and silent
image of consternation.

Baffled by her son's indignant disregard, Lady Audley turned all her
fury on her niece; and, in the most opprobrious terms that rage could
invent, upbraided her with deceit and treachery--accusing her of making
her pretended submission instrumental to the more speedy accomplishment
of her marriage. Too much incensed to reply, Sir Edmund seized his
cousin's hand, and was leading her from the room.

"Go, then--go, marry her; but first hear me swear, solemnly swear"--
and she raised her hand and eyes to heaven--"that my malediction shall
be your portion! Speak but the word, and no power shall make me withhold
it!"

"Dear Edmund!" exclaimed Alicia, distractedly, "never ought I to have
allowed time for the terrifying words that have fallen from Lady
Audley's lips; never for me shall your mother's malediction fall on you.
Farewell for ever!" and, with the strength of desperation, she rushed
past him, and quitted the room. Sir Edmund madly followed, but in vain.
Alicia's feelings were too highly wrought at that moment to be touched
even by the man she loved; and, without an additional pang, she saw him
throw himself into the carriage which he had destined for so different a
purpose, and quit for ever the woman he adored.

It may easily be conceived of how painful a nature must have been the
future intercourse betwixt Lady Audley and her niece. The former seemed
to regard her victim with that haughty distance which the unrelenting
oppressor never fails to entertain towards the object of his tyranny;
while even the gentle Alicia, on her part, shrank, with ill-concealed
abhorrence, from the presence of that being whose stern decree had
blasted all the fairest blossoms of her happiness.

Alicia was received with affection by her grandfather; and she laboured
to drive away the heavy despondency which pressed on her spirits by
studying his taste and humours, and striving to contribute to his
comfort and amusement.

Sir Duncan had chosen the time of Alicia's arrival to transact some
business; and instead of returning immediately to the Highlands, he
determined to remain some weeks in Edinburgh for her amusement.

But, little attractive as dissipation had been, it was now absolutely
repugnant to Alicia. She loathed the idea of mixing in scenes of
amusement with a heart incapable of joy, a spirit indifferent to every
object that surrounded her; and in solitude alone she expected gradually
to regain her peace of mind.

In the amusements of the gay season of Edinburgh, Alicia expected to
find all the vanity, emptiness, and frivolity of London dissipation,
without its varied brilliancy and elegant luxury; yet, so much was it
the habit of her mind to look to the fairest side of things, and to
extract some advantage from every situation in which she was placed,
that pensive and thoughtful as was her disposition, the discriminating
only perceived her deep dejection, while all admired her benevolence of
manner and unaffected desire to please.

By degrees Alicia found that in some points she had been inaccurate in
her idea of the style of living of those who form the best society of
Edinburgh. The circle is so confined that its members are almost
universally known to each other; and those various gradations of
gentility, from the city's snug party to the duchess's most crowded
assembly, all totally distinct and separate, which are to be met with in
London, have no prototype in Edinburgh. There the ranks and fortunes
being more on an equality, no one is able greatly to exceed his
neighbour in luxury and extravagance. Great magnificence, and the
consequent gratification produced by the envy of others being out of the
question, the object for which a reunion of individuals was originally
invented becomes less of a secondary consideration. Private parties for
the actual purpose of society and conversation are frequent, and answer
the destined end; and in the societies of professed amusement are to be
met the learned, the studious, and the rational; not presented as shows
to the company by the host and hostess, but professedly seeking their
own gratification.

Still the lack of beauty, fashion, and elegance disappoint the stranger
accustomed to their brilliant combination in a London world. But Alicia
had long since sickened in the metropolis at the frivolity of beauty,
the heartlessness of fashion, and the insipidity of elegance; and it was
a relief to her to turn to the variety of character she found beneath
the cloak of simple, eccentric, and sometimes coarse manners.

We are never long so totally abstracted by our own feelings as to be
unconscious of the attempts of others to please us. In Alicia, to be
conscious of it and to be grateful was the same movement. Yet she was
sensible that so many persons could not in that short period have become
seriously interested in her. The observation did not escape her how much
an English stranger is looked up to for fashion and taste in Edinburgh,
though possessing little merit save that of being English; yet she felt
gratified and thankful for the kindness and attention that greeted her
appearance on all sides.

Amongst the many who expressed goodwill towards Alicia there were a few
whose kindness and real affection failed not to meet with a return from
her; and others whose rich and varied powers of mind for the first time
afforded her a true specimen of the exalting enjoyment produced by a
communion of intellect. She felt the powers of her understanding enlarge
in proportion; and, with this mental activity, she sought to solace the
languor of her heart and save it from the listlessness of despair.

Alicia had been about six weeks in Edinburgh when she received a
letter from Lady Audley. No allusions were made to the past; she wrote
upon general topics, in the cold manner that might be used to a common
acquaintance; and slightly named her son as having set out upon a tour
to the Continent.

Alicia's heart was heavy as she read the heartless letter of the woman
whose cruelty ad not been able to eradicate wholly from her breast he
strong durable affection of early habit.

Sir Duncan and Alicia spent two months in Edinburgh, at the end of which
time they went to his country seat in---shire. The adjacent country was
picturesque; and Sir Duncan's residence, though bearing marks of the
absence of taste and comfort in its arrangements, possessed much natural
beauty.

Two years of tranquil seclusion had passed over her head when her
dormant feeling were all aroused by a letter from Sir Edmund. It
informed her that he was now of age; that his affection remained
unalterable; that he was newly arrived from abroad; and that,
notwithstanding the death-blow she had given to his hopes, he could not
refrain, on returning to his native land, from assuring her that he was
resolved never to pay his addresses to any other woman. He concluded by
declaring his intent on of presenting himself at once to Sir Duncan, and
soliciting his permission to claim her hand: when all scruples relating
to Lady Audley must, from her change of abode, be at an end.

Alicia read the letter with grateful affection and poignant regret.
Again she shed he bitter tears of disappointment, at the hard task of
refusing for a second time so noble and affectionate a heart. But
conscience whispered that to hold a passive line of conduct would be, in
some measure, to deceive Lady Audley's expectations; and she felt, with
exquisite anguish, that she had no means to put a final stop to Sir
Edmund's pursuits, and to her own trials, but by bestowing her hand on
another. The first dawning of this idea was accompanied by the most
violent burst of anguish; but, far from driving away the painful
subject, she strove to render it less appalling by dwelling upon it, and
labouring to reconcile herself to what seemed her only plan of conduct.
She acknowledged to herself that, to remain still single, a prey to Sir
Edmund's importunities and the continual temptations of her own heart,
was, for the sake of present indulgence, submitting to a fiery ordeal,
from which she could not escape unblamable without the most repeated and
agonising conflicts.

Three months still remained for her of peace and liberty, after which
Sir Duncan would go to Edinburgh. There she would be sure of meeting
with the loved companion of her youthful days; and the lurking weakness
of her own breast would then be seconded by the passionate eloquence of
the being she most loved and admired upon earth.

She wrote to him, repeating her former arguments; declaring that she
could never feel herself absolved from the promise she had given Lady
Audley but by that lady herself, and imploring him to abandon a pursuit
which would be productive only of lasting pain to both.

Her arguments, her representations, all failed in their effect on Sir
Edmund's impetuous character. His answer was short and decided; the
purport of it, that he should see her in Edinburgh the moment she
arrived there.

"My fate then is fixed," thought Alicia, as she read this letter; "I
must finish the sacrifice."

The more severe had been the struggle between love and victorious duty,
the more firmly was she determined to maintain this dear-bought
victory.

Alicia's resolution of marrying was now decided, and the opportunity was
not wanting. She had become acquainted, during the preceding winter in
Edinburgh, with Major Douglas, eldest son of Mr. Douglas of Glenfern. He
had then paid her the most marked attention; and, since her return to
the country, had been a frequent visitor at Sir Duncan's. At length he
avowed his partiality, which was heard by Sir Duncan with pleasure, by
Alicia with dread and submission. Yet she felt less repugnance towards
him than to any other of her suitors. He was pleasing in his person;
quiet and simple in his manners; and his character stood high for
integrity, good temper, and plain sense. The sequel requires little
further detail. Alicia Malcolm became the wife of Archibald Douglas.

An eternal constancy is a thing so rare to be met with, that persons who
desire that sort of reputation strive to obtain it by nourishing the
ideas that recall the passion, even though guilt and sorrow should go
hand in hand with it. But Alicia, far from piquing herself in the
lovelorn pensiveness she might have assumed, had she yielded to the
impulse of her feelings, diligently strove not only to make up her mind
to the lot which had devolved to her, but to bring it to such a frame of
cheerfulness as should enable her to contribute to her husband's
happiness.

When the soul is no longer buffeted by the storms of hope or fear, when
all is fixed unchangeably for life, sorrow for the past will never long
prey on a pious and well-regulated mind. If Alicia lost the buoyant
spirit of youth, the bright and quick play of fancy, yet a placid
contentment crowned her days; and at the end of two years she would have
been astonished had anyone marked her as an object of compassion.

She scarcely ever heard from Lady Audley; and in the few letters her
aunt had favoured her with, she gave favourable, though vague accounts
of her son. Alicia did not court a more unreserved communication, and
had long since taught herself to hope that he was now happy. Soon after
their marriage Major Douglas quitted the army, upon succeeding to a small
estate on the banks of Lochmarlie by the death of an uncle; and there,
in the calm seclusion of domestic life, Mrs. Douglas found that peace
which might have been denied her amid gayer scenes.




CHAPTER XIV.

And joyous was the scene in early summer."

MADOC.

ON Henry's return from his solitary ramble Mrs. Douglas learnt from him
the cause of the misunderstanding that had taken place; and judging
that, in the present state of affairs, a temporary separation might be
of use to both parties, as they were now about to return home she
proposed to her husband to invite his brother and Lady Juliana to follow
and spend a few weeks with them at Lochmarlie Cottage.

The invitation was eagerly accepted; for though Lady Juliana did not
anticipate any positive pleasure from the change, still she thought that
every place must be more agreeable than her present abode, especially as
she stipulated for the utter exclusion of the aunts from the party. To
atone for this mortification Miss Becky was invited to fill the vacant
seat in the carriage; and, accordingly, with a cargo of strong shoes,
greatcoats, and a large work-bag well stuffed with white-seam, she took
her place at the appointed hour.

The day they had chosen for their expedition was one that "sent a summer
feeling to the heart."

The air was soft and genial; not a cloud stained the bright azure of the
heavens; and the sun shone out in all his splendour, shedding life and
beauty even over all the desolate heath-clad hills of Glenfern. But,
after they had journeyed a few miles, suddenly emerging from the valley,
a scene of matchless beauty burst at once upon the eye. Before them lay
the dark-blue waters of Lochmarlie, reflecting, as in a mirror, every
surrounding object, and bearing on its placid transparent bosom a fleet
of herring-boats, the drapery of whose black suspended nets contrasted
with picturesque effect the white sails of the larger vessels, which
were vainly spread to catch a breeze. All around, rocks, meadows, woods,
and hills, mingled in wild and lovely irregularity.

On a projecting point of land stood a little fishing village, its white
cottages reflected in the glassy waters that almost surrounded it. On
the opposite side of the lake, or rather estuary, embosomed in wood, rose
the lofty turrets of Lochmarlie Castle; while here and there, perched on
some mountain's brow, were to be seen the shepherd's lonely hut, and the
heath-covered summer shealing.

Not a breath was stirring, not a sound was heard save the rushing of a
waterfall, the tinkling of some silver rivulet, or the calm rippling of
the tranquil lake; now and then, at intervals, the fisherman's Gaelic
ditty chanted, as he lay stretched on the sand in some sunny nook; or
the shrill distant sound of childish glee. How delicious to the feeling
heart to behold so fair a scene of unsophisticated Nature, and to
listen to her voice alone, breathing the accents of innocence and joy!

But none of the party who now gazed on it had minds capable of being
touched with the emotions it was calculated to inspire.

Henry, indeed, was rapturous in his expressions of admiration; but he
concluded his panegyrics by wondering his brother did not keep a cutter,
and resolving to pass a night on board one of the herring boats, that he
might eat the fish in perfection.

Lady Juliana thought it might be very pretty, if, instead of those
frightful rocks and shabby cottages, there could be villas, and gardens,
and lawns, and conservatories, and summer-houses, and statues.

Miss Becky observed, if it was hers, she would cut down the woods, and
level the hills, and have races.

The road wound along the sides of the lake, sometimes overhung with
banks of natural wood, which, though scarcely budding, grew so thick as
to exclude the prospect; in other places surmounted by large masses of
rock, festooned with ivy, and embroidered by mosses of a thousand hues
that glittered under the little mountain streamlets. Two miles farther
on stood the simple mansion of Mr. Douglas. It was situated in a wild
sequestered nook, formed by a little bay at the farther end of the
lake. On three sides it was surrounded by wooded hills that offered a
complete shelter from every nipping blast. To the south the lawn,
sprinkled with trees and shrubs, sloped gradually down to the water.

At the door they were met by Mrs. Douglas, who welcomed them with
the most affectionate cordiality, and conducted them into the house
through a little circular hall, filled with flowering shrubs and foreign
plants.

"How delightful!" exclaimed Lady Juliana, as she stopped to inhale
the rich fragrance. "Moss roses! I do delight in them," twisting off a
rich cluster of flowers and buds in token of her affection; "and I quite
doat upon heliotrope," gathering a handful of flowers as she spoke. Then
extending her hand towards a most luxuriant Cape jessamine--

"I must really petition you to spare this, my favourite child," said her
sister-in-law, as she gently withheld her arm; "and, to tell you the
truth, dear Lady Juliana, you have already infringed the rules of my
little conservatory, which admit only of the gratification of two
senses--seeing and smelling."

"What! don't you like your flowers to be gathered?" exclaimed Lady
Juliana in a tone of surprise and disappointment; "I don't know any
other use they're of. What quantities I used to have from Papa's
hothouses!"

Mrs. Douglas made no reply; but conducted her to the drawing-room, where
her chagrin was dispelled by the appearance of comfort and even elegance
that it bore. "Now, this is really what I like," cried she, throwing
herself on one of the couches; "a large fire, open windows, quantities
of roses, comfortable Ottomans, and pictures; only what a pity you
haven't a larger mirror."

Mrs. Douglas now rang for refreshments, and apologised for the absence
of her husband, who, she said, was so much interested in his ploughing
that he seldom made his appearance till sent for.

Henry then proposed that they should all go out and surprise his
brother; and though walking in the country formed no part of Lady
Juliana's amusements, yet, as Mrs. Douglas assured her the walks were
perfectly dry, and her husband was so pressing, she consented. The way
lay through a shrubbery, by the side of a brawling brook, whose banks
retained all the wildness of unadorned nature. Moss and ivy and fern
clothed the ground; and under the banks the young primroses and violets
began to raise their heads; while the red wintry berry still hung thick
on the hollies.

"This is really very pleasant," said Henry, stopping to contemplate a
view of the lake through the branches of a weeping birch; "the sound of
the stream, and the singing of the birds, and all those wild flowers
make it appear as if it was summer in this spot; and only look, Julia,
how pretty that wherry looks lying at anchor." Then whispering to her,
"What would you think of such a desert as this, with the man of your
heart?"

Lady Juliana made no reply but by complaining of the heat of the sun,
the hardness of the gravel, and the damp from the water.

Henry, who now began to look upon the condition of a Highland farmer
with more complacency than formerly, was confirmed in his favourable
sentiments at sight of his brother, following the primitive occupation
of the plough, his fine face glowing with health, and lighted up with
good humour and happiness. He hastily advanced towards the party, and
shaking his brother and sister-in-law most warmly by the hand,
expressed, with all the warmth of a good heart, the pleasure he had in
receiving them at his house. Then observing Lady Juliana's languid air,
and imputing to fatigue of body what, in fact, was the consequence of
mental vacuity, he proposed returning home by a shorter road than that
by which they had come. Henry was again in raptures at the new beauties
this walk presented, and at the high order and neatness in which the
grounds were kept.

"This must be a very expensive place of yours, though," said he,
addressing his sister-in-law; "there is so much garden and shrubbery,
and such a number of rustic bridges, bowers, and so forth: it must
require half a dozen men to keep it in any order."

"Such an establishment would very ill accord with our moderate means,"
replied she; "we do not pretend to one regular gardener; and had our
little embellishments been productive of much expense, or tending solely
to my gratification, I should never have suggested them. When we first
took possession of this spot it was a perfect wilderness, with a dirty
farm-house on it; nothing but mud about the doors; nothing but wood and
briers and brambles beyond it; and the village presented a still more
melancholy scene of rank luxuriance, in its swarms of dirty idle girls
and mischievous boys. I have generally found that wherever an evil
exists the remedy is not far off; and in this case it was strikingly
obvious. It was only engaging these ill-directed children by trifling
rewards to apply their lively energies in improving instead of
destroying the works of nature, as had formerly been their zealous
practice. In a short time the change on the moral as well as the
vegetable part of creation became very perceptible: the children grew
industrious and peaceable; and instead of destroying trees, robbing
nests, and worrying cats, the bigger boys, under Douglas's direction,
constructed these wooden bridges and seats, or cut out and gravelled the
little winding paths that we had previously marked out. The task of
keeping everything n order is now easy, as you may believe, when I tell
you the whole of our pleasure-grounds, as you are pleased to term them,
receive no other attention than what is bestowed by children under
twelve years of age. And now, having, I hope, acquitted myself of the
charge of extravagance, I ought to beg Lady Juliana's pardon for this
long, and, I fear, tiresome detail."

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