“I love her the more,” said young Hazeldean, raising his front with a noble pride, that seemed to speak of his descent from a race of cavaliers and gentlemen,—“I love her the more because the world has slandered her name,—because I believe her to be pure and wronged. But would they at the Hall,—they who do not see with a lover’s eyes, they who have all the stubborn English notions about the indecorum and license of Continental manners, and will so readily credit the worst? Oh, no! I love, I cannot help it—but I have no hope.”
“It is very possible that you may be right,” exclaimed Randal, as if struck and half convinced by his companion’s argument,—“very possible; and certainly I think that the homely folks at the Hall would fret and fume at first, if they heard you were married to Madame di Negra. Yet still, when your father learned that you had done so, not from passion alone, but to save him from all pecuniary sacrifice,—to clear yourself of debt, to—”
“What do you mean?” exclaimed Frank, impatiently.
“I have reason to know that Madame di Negra will have as large a portion as your father could reasonably expect you to receive with any English wife. And when this is properly stated to the squire, and the high position and rank of your wife fully established and brought home to him,—for I must think that these would tell, despite your exaggerated notions of his prejudices,—and then, when he really sees Madame di Negra, and can judge of her beauty and rare gifts, upon my word, I think, Frank, that there would be no cause for fear. After all, too, you are his only son. He will have no option but to forgive you; and I know how anxiously both your parents wish to see you settled in life.”
Frank’s whole countenance became illuminated. “There is no one who understands the squire like you, certainly,” said he, with lively joy. “He has the highest opinion of your judgment. And you really believe you could smooth matters?”
“I believe so; but I should be sorry to induce you to run any risk; and if, on cool consideration, you think that risk is incurred, I strongly advise you to avoid all occasion of seeing the poor marchesa. Ah, you wince; but I say it for her sake as well as your own. First, you must be aware, that, unless you have serious thoughts of marriage, your attentions can but add to the very rumours that, equally groundless, you so feelingly resent; and, secondly, because I don’t think any man has a right to win the affections of a woman—especially a woman who seems to me likely to love with her whole heart and soul—merely to gratify his own vanity.”
“Vanity! Good heavens! can you think so poorly of me? But as to the marchesa’s affections,” continued Frank, with a faltering voice, “do you really and honestly believe that they are to be won by me?”
“I fear lest they may be half won already,” said Randal, with a smile and a shake of the head; “but she is too proud to let you see any effect you may produce on her, especially when, as I take it for granted, you have never hinted at the hope of obtaining her hand.”
“I never till now conceived such a hope. My dear Randal, all my cares have vanished! I tread upon air! I have a great mind to call on her at once.”
“Stay, stay,” said Randal. “Let me give you a caution. I have just informed you that Madame di Negra will have, what you suspected not before, a fortune suitable to her birth. Any abrupt change in your manner at present might induce her to believe that you were influenced by that intelligence.”