Bungay Castle: A Novel. v. 1/2

by Mrs. Bonhote

The whole company were invited to spend the remainder of the day at the Castle, notwithstanding the purpose for which they came had been defeated. Father Anselm, who, though a very pious and rigid Catholic, had no objection to good living, very readily accepted the invitation. The doors of the Castle were ordered to be thrown open; every one that chose was permitted to partake of the hospitality and good cheer, and, though the company were disappointed of being at a wedding, it would have been impossible for an indifferent spectator to imagine any matter of such consequence could have happened, as mirth, pleasure, and satisfaction, revelled in every eye, and every countenance was drest in the serene and placid smiles of joy and contentment.

Roseline was closeted half an hour with her mother and aunt; she received their congratulations and caresses with that pure delight which ever attends the heart when duty and affection are united. Lady de Morney could not withhold her praises; yet once or twice gently adverted to the dangers which might have arisen from the duplicity of her conduct in concealing an attachment of so much importance to her future peace, had not the holy virgin condescended to watch and guard her. The abbess bestowed her most pious benediction on her lovely niece, who, she pronounced, had acted under the influence of her guardian saint, and was entitled to the ample reward which appeared to wait her acceptance.

CHAP. VI.

When the party met at dinner, the simple elegance of Roseline's engaging figure, divested of those ornaments which a few hours before had been so lavishly put on her by the fingers of taste, appeared far more captivating: her eyes were illumined with an expression of joy and satisfaction to which they had long been strangers; the change conveyed a train of the most enchanting sensations to the heart of her admiring lover, and did not pass unobserved by her friends. To Sir Philip they carried a silent reproach for having so long robbed them of their lustre.

Roseline was seated between the Baron and his son, and, though this was the first time Walter had ever dined with so large a party, or witnessed the comforts of a plentiful table, laden with the rarities of art and nature, he was neither awkward not embarrassed; for his friend Albert, to fill up the heavy hours as they slowly crept away during their long and tedious imprisonment, had described to him the manners and customs of the world, among all ranks of people, with the utmost accuracy and care, and by these means prepared him for scenes which must otherwise have astonished, and in many instances alarmed, him.

The good Albert was placed between De Clavering and De Willows, who took this opportunity of shewing him their most flattering attention, and, in consequence, he was encouraged to hold a very respectable part in the conversation. As he had before given undeniable proofs of the goodness of his heart, he now unfolded to the company the excellence of his understanding, and convinced them, that, if the prisoner had been educated amidst the bustle of the world, he could not have found a better preceptor as to sound judgement and useful knowledge.—Thus honoured and happy, he found in part a reward for the integrity and humanity of his conduct, while the approving eye of his grateful master spoke a language which conveyed a joy to his heart that is rarely felt, and cannot be defined.

Edwin and De Willows paid every attention to their fair enslavers, no longer fearing the penetrating eyes of the governor, who was too much taken up with the eclaircissement of the morning to suspect any other lovers were present.

After the company rose from the table, at the Baron's particular request, they went to look into those dreary apartments to which the prisoner had been consigned at his first coming to the castle. Edwin produced the key of the trap-door, and conducted them down the same stairs which he and his trembling companions had descended when they were alarmed by the unusual noises they heard in the lower part of the castle. Every minute circumstance was interesting to the company; but to the Baron they were connected with a tale that awakened every feeling of his heart. Few therefore can be at a loss to guess his sensations when he entered the cold, gloomy, and unwholesome dungeon in which this darling son, the child of his Isabella, had lingered so many months, and was told by Albert, that it was far more comfortable and commodious than the one he had been inclosed in many long and tedious years.

The Baron shuddered with horror, sat down on the humble and uneasy couch which had been Walter's only bed, during a long and dangerous indisposition, and again called upon Albert to describe his first interview with Roseline; the tale was again repeated, and lost none of its effect by repetition.—Walter, the tear trembling in his eye as it was fondly bent on Roseline, grasped her hand, and poured out the warm effusions of his grateful and enamoured heart.

To trace the progress of nature, unvitiated by false taste, and uncorrupted by guilt, is, in my opinion, (said De Clavering,) the most entertaining and instructive history we can read, and far more useful is the language it contains than all the crabbed and unfeeling documents of the most studious philosopher, who loses the gentle propensities of his nature by snuffing up the dust of ancient libraries, till the spiders have woven their cobweb-looms in his head, and left no space for nature to creep in, and shew her unadulterated face; but, in my opinion, the chief happiness, both of man and woman, consists in the knowledge and practice of all the social affections."