After introducing Count Altenberg to Mrs. Mortimer, Mrs. Hungerford said, “Till I had my daughter and all my friends in full force about me, I prudently did not make any attempt, Count Altenberg, upon your liberty; but now that you see my resources, I trust you will surrender yourself, without difficulty, my prisoner, as long as we can possibly detain you in this castle.”
Never was man less disposed to refuse an invitation than Count Altenberg at this moment. He wrote to Mrs. Falconer immediately that farewell note which had shocked Miss Georgiana so much.
As Lord Oldborough was preparing to return to town, and likely to be engrossed by ministerial business, his lordship, with less reluctance, relinquished his company; and the Count, with infinite satisfaction, found himself established at once upon a footing of intimacy at Hungerford Castle. The letter he had intended to write to his father was now written and sent; but it was expressed in yet stronger terms than he had originally designed—he concluded by conjuring his father, as he valued the happiness of his son, not to take a step in any of the treaties of marriage that had been planned for him, and besought him to write as soon as it was possible, to relieve his mind from suspense, and to set him at liberty to declare his attachment, if, upon further acquaintance with the English lady who had touched his heart, he should feel any hope of making such an impression on her affections as could induce her to make for him the great sacrifice of country, family, and friends. In the mean time, the hours and days passed on most happily at Hungerford Castle. Every succeeding day discovered to him some new excellence in the object of his affection. Mrs. Hungerford, with judicious, delicate kindness, forbore all attempts to display even those qualities and talents in Caroline which she most valued, certain that she might safely leave them to the discernment of her lover. That Count Altenberg loved, Mrs. Hungerford had too much penetration to doubt; and it rejoiced her heart, and satisfied all her hopes, to see a prospect of her young friend being united to such a man. Mrs. Mortimer felt as much joy and as much delicacy upon the subject as her mother showed.
In that near examination in domestic life, so dangerous to many women of the highest pretensions, Caroline shone superior. His love, approved by the whole strength of his reason, and exalted by the natural enthusiasm of his temper, was now at the highest. His impatience was extreme for the arrival of that answer to his letter, which he hoped would set him at liberty to declare his passion.
The letter at last arrived; very different were its contents from what he had hoped. A previous letter from his father to him, sent in a packet with government despatches by Mr. Cunningham Falconer, had not reached him. That letter, of which his father now sent him a copy, contained an account of the steps which had been taken, relative to a treaty of marriage between his son and the Countess Christina, a lady of high birth, beauty, and talents, who had lately appeared for the first time at that court. Count Altenberg’s father described the countess as one who, he was sure, must charm his son; and as the alliance was eagerly desired by the lady’s friends, and in every respect honourable for his whole family, the old Count was impatient to have the affair concluded. Receiving no answer to this letter, and pressed by circumstances, he had gone forward in his son’s name with the treaty, and had pledged him so far, that there was now, he declared, no possibility of retracting with honour. He lamented that his son should, in the mean time, have taken a fancy to an English lady; but, as Count Albert’s letter gave the assurance to his family that he would not take any decisive step till he should receive an answer, nothing could have been done in England that would commit his honour—absence would soon efface a transient impression—the advantages of the alliance proposed in his own country would appear stronger the more they should be examined—the charms of the Countess Christina, with her superior understanding, would have an irresistible effect; “and,” concluded the old count, “I beseech you, my dear Albert, as your friend—I will say more—I command you as your father, return to your own country as soon as you can obtain passports after receiving this letter.”
Count Altenberg would have left Hungerford Castle immediately, but he had still a lingering hope that his last letter to his father would produce a change in his mind, and for an answer to this he determined to wait; but a sudden change appeared in his manner: he was grave and absent; instead of seeking Caroline’s company and conversation as usual, he studiously avoided her; and when he did speak to her, his behaviour was so cold and reserved—so unlike his natural or his former manner, that the difference struck not only Caroline herself, but Rosamond and Mrs. Percy, who were, at this time, at Hungerford Castle. It happened that, on the very day, and nearly at the very hour, when Count Altenberg received this letter from his father, of which no one knew any thing but himself, there arrived at Hungerford Castle another of Mrs. Hungerford’s nieces, a young lady of uncommon beauty, and of the most attractive and elegant manners, Lady Florence Pembroke. She was just returned from Italy with an uncle, who had resided there for some time. Count Altenberg, from the moment he was introduced to Lady Florence, devoted to her his whole attention—he sat beside her—whenever he conversed, his conversation was addressed to her; and the evident absence of mind he occasionally betrayed, and all the change in his manner, seemed to have been caused by her ladyship’s appearance. Some sage philosophers know little more of cause and effect than that the one precedes the other; no wonder then that Rosamond, not famous for the accuracy of her reasoning, should, in this instance, be misled by appearances. To support her character for prudence, she determined not to seem to observe what passed, and not to mention her suspicions to her sister; who, as she remarked, was sensible of the count’s altered manner; and who, as she rightly conjectured, did not perceive it with indifference. The accomplishments, good sense, and exalted sentiments of Count Altenberg, and the marked attentions he had paid her, had made an unusual impression on the mind of Caroline. He had never declared his love, but involuntarily it had betrayed itself on several occasions. Insensibly Caroline was thus led to feel for him more than she dared to avow even to herself, when the sudden change in his manner awakened her from this delightful forgetfulness of every object that was unconnected with her new feelings, and suddenly arrested her steps as she seemed entering the paradise of love and hope.
At night, when they were retiring to rest, and Caroline and Rosamond were in their mother’s room, Rosamond, unable longer to keep her prudent silence, gave vent to her indignation against Count Altenberg in general reflections upon the fickleness of man. Even men of the best understanding were, she said, but children of a larger growth—pleased with change—preferring always the newest to the fairest, or the best. Caroline did not accede to these accusations.
Rosamond, astonished and provoked, exclaimed, “Is it possible that you are so blind as not to see that Count Altenberg—” Rosamond stopped short, for she saw Caroline’s colour change. She stood beside her mother motionless, and with her eyes fixed on the ground. Rosamond moved a chair towards her.
“Sit down, my dear love,” said her mother, tenderly taking Caroline’s hand—“sit down and compose yourself.”
“My dear mother, you required one, and but one promise from me—I gave it you, firmly intending to keep it; and yet I fear that you will think I have broken it. I promised to tell you whenever I felt the first symptom of preference for any person. I did not know my own mind till this day. Indeed I thought I felt nothing but what every body else expressed, esteem and admiration.”