Among scenes such as these, many happy months glided away; yet such was the delicate respect and mournful tenderness with which poor Willoughby was remembered, by both Alfred and Caroline, that the mention of love, in express terms, seemed to be, as by mutual consent, delayed. Alfred, indeed, would sometimes use, in speaking of futurity, the we—that promissory note of affianced love—and feel an indescribable thrill of delight in marking the conscious blush which his inadvertence was sure to excite on Caroline's fair cheek. Nor was the tender, the endearing thought, ever for a moment absent from his mind, that it was her secret attachment to him, the belief of his accusation, his terrible death, which had brought her, in the early morning of her days, to the dark portal of the tomb.
It was in moments of perfect calm, such as we have been describing, when either sailing on the smooth lake, or strolling with Mrs. Dorothea along its lovely margin, while the young people were occupied with each other, that Lady Arden would shudder involuntarily, when in imagination she contemplated, as from an immeasurable height, the frightful abyss of wretchedness into which she had been plunged so lately; and the horrors of which, from their stunning effect at the time, already seemed shadowy and indistinct, like the remembrance of some terrific dream!
"Yet such things have been," she would say, turning suddenly to Mrs. Dorothea, "and here I am, still in being! Would it not appear, that when the causes of suffering become extreme, confusion of spirit is sent in mercy to the succour of mortal weakness; as though such agony, as the soul can conceive when in full possession of its powers, were reserved to be the awful portion of the impenitent sinner after judgment! In our present state we know nothing perfectly—not even misery!"
CHAPTER XXIV.
We have hitherto neglected to mention, that in the correspondence held with Lady Palliser, her ladyship's consent to the future union of her daughter with our hero was duly sought and obtained.
Indeed Lady Palliser considered, that Caroline's name had been so provokingly mixed up with that horrible business, as she always designated the late afflictions of the Arden family, that marrying her to the remaining brother was now absolutely indispensable, as well as one which would prove an excellent practical explanation of the whole affair, and save her the trouble of saying an immensity about it, beside the risk of being neither understood nor believed. Now, too, that the title and estates were Alfred's, she had no very particular objection to him: that is to say, he was just as good now as his brother had been—though neither were matches such as Caroline might have expected, had she not made an egregious fool of herself. As to her ladyship's silly anger with our hero, for daring to admire her daughter more than herself, it had long since been forgotten amid myriads of more brilliant conquests.
Previously, however, to the return to England of our travelling party, Lady Palliser died after a very short illness, having taken cold at some royal fête, which, when already far from well, she had imprudently quitted her bed to attend.
This new mourning made it nearly two years after the death of poor Willoughby before the marriage of Caroline and Alfred was celebrated: that of Madeline with Mr. Cameron, who through all the troubles of the family had been faithful, took place as soon as the mourning for her brother was over.
Prior, however, to these events, and prior also to the return from abroad of the Arden family, Miss Fips, all her flyers and streamers of black crape, nay, her very parasol black, reappeared upon the stage, calling herself Mrs. Arden, and declaring that she had been privately married to the late Geoffery Arden; of which alleged fact, however, she failed to produce any satisfactory proof, save and except a son and heir, on whose behalf she claimed whatever property was left by the deceased.