This assurance, however, could not calm the disquietude of Sir Charles. His soul was tortured with impatience and anxiety for an explanation of the mystery, which the agitation of Amanda, and the evasive answers of Belgrave had betrayed. He sought the latter through the room till convinced of his departure, and resolved the next morning to entreat him to deal candidly with him.
Agreeably to this resolution, he was preparing, after breakfast, for his visit, when a letter was brought him which contained the following lines:—
“If Sir Charles Bingley has the least regard for his honor or tranquillity, he will immediately relinquish his intentions relative to Miss Fitzalan. This caution comes from a sincere friend—from a person whom delicacy, not want of veracity, urges to this secret mode of giving it.”
Sir Charles perused and re-perused the letter, as if doubting the evidence of his eyes. He at last flung it from him, and clasping his hands together exclaimed: “This is indeed a horrible explanation.” He took up the detested paper. Again he examined the characters, and recognized the writing of Colonel Belgrave. He hastily snatched up his hat, and with the paper in his hand, flew directly to his house. The colonel was alone.
“Belgrave,” said Sir Charles, in almost breathless agitation, “are you the author of this letter?” presenting it to him.
Belgrave took it, read it, but continued silent.
“Oh! Belgrave!” exclaimed Sir Charles, in a voice trembling with agony, “pity and relieve my suspense.” “I am the author of it,” replied Belgrave, with solemnity; “Miss Fitzalan and I were once tenderly attached. I trust I am no deliberate libertine; but, when a lovely, seducing girl was thrown purposely in my way——” “Oh, stop,” said Sir Charles, “to me any extenuation of your conduct is unnecessary; ’tis sufficient to know that Miss Fitzalan and I are forever separated.” His emotion overpowered him. He leaned on a table, and covered his face with a handkerchief.
“The shock I have received,” said he, “almost unmans me. Amanda was, alas! I must say is, dear, inexpressibly dear to my soul. I thought her the most lovely, the most estimable of women; and the anguish I now feel, is more on her account than my own. I cannot bear the idea of the contempt which may fall upon her. Oh, Belgrave, ’tis melancholy to behold a human being, so endowed by nature as she is, insensible or unworthy of her blessings. Amanda,” he continued, after a pause, “never encouraged me; I therefore cannot accuse her of intending deceit.”
“She never encouraged you,” replied Belgrave, “because she was ambitious of a higher title. Amanda, beneath a specious appearance of innocence, conceals a light disposition and a designing heart. She aspires to Mortimer’s hand, and may probably succeed, for his language and attentions to her last night were those of a tender lover.”
“I shall return immediately to Ireland,” said Sir Charles, “and endeavor to forget I have ever seen her. She has made me indeed experience all the fervency of love, and bitterness of disappointment. What I felt for her, I think I shall never again feel for any woman.