"That would be to trust our hopes of forgiveness upon a very sandy foundation indeed, (said Sir Philip,) as determined guilt, or a continuance in error, can have but little chance of immortal happiness."
"And for our mortal share of that same commodity, (replied the lively Hugh,) we must not trust to matrimony, I fear, as I never heard married people found their happiness puilt upon a rock."
This speech produced a general laugh, but Sir Philip, who was by no means pleased with the subject, said with a smile to the Baron, "These young men think they know more than their forefathers."
"By which means, (replied he,) they will most assuredly entail upon themselves the mortification of knowing less."
The conversation, during the rest of the walk, was confined to such objects as occasionally presented themselves to observation. The inhabitants of the town came to their doors to catch a look at the party from the castle. To as many as were known by the governor he spoke familiarly, as did the other gentlemen, and they concluded the Baron must be some very great man, perhaps the king himself in disguise, because he did not once condescend to address them.
Roseline chatted with some young girls who came out to make their best curtesies, while the Baron thought all these attentions paid to such plebeian souls wonderfully troublesome. At dinner he scarcely spoke five words, and De Willows was do disgusted with his forbidding haughtiness, that the next day he presented to De Clavering the following satire on pride, saying it was a tribute justly due to the Baron for his supreme excellency in the display of that detestable feature in his character.
Hell's first born exhalation sure is pride!
Who, with its sister, envy, would divide
The various blessings to poor mortals given.
By the kind bounty of indulgent heaven.
What at the last have kings to make them proud!
A gilded coffin and a satin shroud.
The lordly worm on these will quickly prey;
For worms, like kings, in turn will have their day.
What then is man who boasts his form and make?
A reptile's meal,—a worm's high-flavour'd steak,
The epicure, who caters like a slave,
Is but a pamper'd morsel for the grave.
Envy's a canker of such subtle power,
It steals all pleasure from the gayest hour.
It is the deadly nightshade of the mind;
With secret poison all its arts refin'd;
And, when attended by it vile relation,
Would spread a plague destructive to a nation.
Then send these hags back to their native hell,
With fiends and evil spirits formed to dwell.
No more on worth let man look down with scorn,
And frown on those not quite so highly born;
Nor, as the coaches rattle from his door,
Boast, like proud Haman, of not being poor!
Earth's doom'd to earth, all folly there must end,—
Then read, and own the satirist a friend.
Madeline had been invited, and obtained permission of the abbess to spend the following day at the castle. This gave additional vivacity to the lively spirits of Edwin, who, with his sister, spent as much time with the prisoner as they could steal, without exciting curiosity of suspicion. Roseline gave them with some humour the ghost-story, as imparted to her by Audrey, and cautioned Albert against having any lights seen from the windows, lest it should be productive of such inquiries as might lead to a discovery of the rooms being inhabited; but, notwithstanding all her attempts to fly from herself, and conceal from the observing eye of love her own internal conflicts, she was almost tempted to throw aside the mask, and at once confess all her apprehensions.