Louis took his hand with the enthusiasm of a manly heart re-illumining his momentarily saddened countenance.
"But I am, my uncle!" said he, "and when she, who alone I ever truly loved, has indeed uttered the fatal vow; I will do my best, to reconcile your plan of ministry, with that of Bishop Taylor's celibacy: and, so tread in the steps of my revered Pastor, to the end of my days!"
He put his uncle's hand to his lips, to conceal the sigh that would have ended the sentence.
Mr. Athelstone thought it best to pass immediately from a subject on which hope could have no footing; and he proposed, that as heaven had seen it good to spare the life of Duke Wharton, their next object was to preserve him from the knowledge of the government, until he were sufficiently recovered to pass beyond seas. To effect this concealment with the least mystery, he recommended entrusting the Marchioness and her family with what had happened. Don Garcia, the physician, would be bound to keep the secret, on account of the Duke's power in the Spanish court; and then he might be removed to Lindisfarne, as part of the travelling suite. In that remote place, he would be attended by Don Garcia; and might await his convalescence without much alarm for his personal safety. Louis highly approved of these suggestions; and settled, that as soon as he had seen Wharton in the morning, he would return to Alnwick, and make the necessary arrangements with the Marchioness.
Towards dawn, the Pastor dropt asleep in his great chair, and Louis was left to his meditations. He too well remembered the distressed, and almost reproachful looks, with which the mother of Marcella had regarded him, when he so quiescently permitted her daughter to hurry forward to the danger of her health; and also, the uncomplaining perseverance of Marcella, for the two first days; and the unselfed, and almost indignant firmness with which she bore the third. There was something in these remembrances, which, while they overpowered him with regretful shame at his seeming ingratitude, yet awakened a countless train of recollections that flowed like balm into his soul. With his lips, he foreswore all hope of Marcella; but there was a subtle something in the bottom of his heart, that would not allow him to feel that he must absolutely seek the resignation he professed.
He ruminated on the consolations he had received at her hands when he lay in sickness and in sorrow; on the gentle virtues, which, like silent rills, only betraying their hidden course by a brighter green above, shewed their foundation in the beautiful composure of her character. Her tender cares had been as unremitting as efficient; and made her influence be felt throughout his whole soul, even as the atmosphere that surrounded him; soft, balmy, and inspiring!
Louis knew not that he loved her, till he believed he took his last leave of her, on the steps of the altar in the chapel of Ceuta. He knew not how he loved her, till the burthen of his friend's delinquency was taken from his heart; and its first spring was to pour the rapture of the conviction into her pure bosom. He would not, however, acknowledge to himself, that he thought she loved him. But he felt it in every nerve of his body, in the dearest recesses of his soul, in every heaven-directed aspiration of his grateful spirit.
"And, in heaven alone," cried he, "will it be mutually imparted, and enjoyed!"