Bungay Castle: A Novel. v. 1/2

by Mrs. Bonhote

De Willows called him an incorrigible miscreant for betraying the secrets he pilfered from his friend, and vowed to be revenged in his own way. This little sally gave an enlivening turn to the conversation, but it was not possible that a party, circumstanced as the present, should be able to converse on any subject but that in which every heart was interested: it had even bereaved father Anselm and the abbess of many tears.

Sir Philip de Morney avowed that the gentle and benevolent virtues of his children made him blush at the failure of them in himself. The Baron still shed tears, but they were tears more calculated to provoke envy than excite compassion. He embraced his son again and again, led him to Roseline, and entreated she would make the youth her captive for life, and bestow on him the only treasure which could reward him for his long confinement and uncomplaining fortitude. He called upon Sir Philip to accept him for a brother instead of a son, saying, as he should now certainly never think of marrying again, the settlements, with a few alterations, might stand as they did. This proposal was too agreeable to meet with any opposition. Upon Albert the Baron proposed settling an annuity that would enable him to live in a stile equal to that of the most respectable country gentleman; but this good man instantly declined accepting the generous offer, declaring, that if they compelled him to leave his dear young lord, and deprived him of the pleasure of attending him, life would lose its value, and he should pine away the remainder of his days in discontent and misery, though he were possessed of the most unbounded affluence.

"And I, (said Walter,) though blessed with my gentle and lovely Roseline, should appear despicable in her eyes, and contemptible in my own, could I ever consent that my preserver, friend, and preceptor, should live under any roof but mine. I hope and trust he will permit me to repay to his declining age the mighty debt I owe him for his tender care, his unceasing attentions to my helpless and persecuted youth."

Albert burst into tears, and, suddenly throwing himself at the feet of Walter, found, in the eager and cordial embrace with which he raised him, an ample reward for his long tried fidelity.

Edeliza, Bertha, and their youthful companions, were no longer able to confine their joy in silence. Bertha crept to the side of Walter, and looked at him with an expression of countenance so good humoured and arch, that he took her on his knee, and inquired if she would give him leave to be her brother.

"That I will! (said she.)—You are so tall and handsome, and by seeing you I have found why my sister Roseline shed so many tears, had so many fainting fits, and went about without singing the pretty songs she used to do;—it was all owing to you;—therefore you must be very good, and very entertaining, to make her love you better than she does Edeliza, brother Edwin, or myself."

Lady de Morney, father Anselm, the abbess, Madeline, and Agnes de Clifford, were severally introduced. The abbess, as she expressed her approbation of her niece's lover, told her sister that she saw in this animated and expressive countenance a likeness of her regretted Henry. De Clavering and the rest were not silent. Never can there be found a happier party than were at that time assembled in Bungay-castle. The gloom, which had so long enveloped them, disappeared with every threatening cloud, and was succeeded by the brightest sunshine. Various reports were in rapid circulation respecting the circumstances which had so wonderfully concurred to promote and secure the happiness of Walter and Roseline; and, while some were pitying, others blaming the bride that should have been, the parties themselves were congratulating each other on account of that very disappointment which had been productive of joy as great as it was unexpected.

Roseline, eager to disrobe herself of her bridal ornaments, which, in spite of herself, carried her reflections back to the agonizing conflicts she had endured when putting them on, retired with her young friends, and then in the fulness of heart, as she embraced them with delight, unmixed with self-reproach or doubt, informed them of her long and tender attachment to the poor, helpless, and unknown prisoner.

Edeliza declared he was almost as handsome as De Willows. "But not half so merry and good humoured as Mr. Camelford, (said Bertha;) but I will try to make him romp with me, and then perhaps I shall like him as well."

Roseline smiled with complacency at her sister's artless observations, in which she read the sentiments of hearts which had not yet learned the art of concealing what they felt, and which already yielded to the influence of the same blind god who had conducted her through such varying scenes of hope, despair, and misery, to a prospect of the most enviable happiness.