CHAPTER VII.
Our Hero accompanies Amelia and Mrs. Jennings to Denbigh. Past Mistakes are set to rights in a very natural and agreeable Manner.
The fine and valuable horse, which Sir Arthur Floyd and his friends had so handsomely presented to young John De Lancaster, and in whose noble veins ran the full blood of the mal-treated massacred Glendowr, was in constant attendance upon our hero, wherever he went, and no other hero was in the habit of riding him. When the ladies had set off for Denbigh, this favourite animal was by John’s order led out to the great hall-door for him to mount: The beauty of his form, the spirit of his eye and the elegance of his action having drawn a party of admirers, male and female about him, the poor old gouty grandfather at the instigation and by the advice of Madam Richards, whose voice was as an oracle in Glen Morgan, was wheeled into the hall and drawn out upon the landing-place before the portal to see his grandson in the saddle. It was indeed a spectacle well worth a lame man’s trouble to contemplate. The consciousness, which the fine animal seemed to entertain of his own dignity, and the sensibility with which he appeared to feel the caresses of his master, were noticed by the grandfather, who had been a famous sportsman in his time, and gave him great delight. John put his horse into graceful action, bowed respectfully to the old gentleman and rode off.
At about two miles distance from Denbigh he overtook the chariot. The light and nimble tread of his horse upon the mossy turf gave no notice of his approach: the ladies were engaged upon an interesting topick, and his name was on the lips of Amelia in the very moment when he rode up to the window, and, as it happened, on the side where she was seated: In the sudden emotion, which the sight of him occasioned, the start she gave, and the action that accompanied it, covered her with blushes; for she was conscious of having betrayed more joy and transport on the occasion than it is required of prudent young ladies to discover when they meet young men of their acquaintance on the road. Her’s was not the age however nor yet the nature, that could counterfeit tranquillity and indifference; so that when her eyes were directed towards him, they gave him clearly to perceive and know how welcome to her sight he was. He himself also was too much enraptured with what he contemplated to be either very able or very eager to help her out of her embarrassment; in a short time however she had recollected herself quite sufficiently to be extremely charmed with the beauty of his horse, extremely apprehensive of his danger when he came too near, and extremely happy when he came so very close to the window, that her fair hand could reach not only to caress and fondle that fine animal, but to display its own fair self to the owner of the animal, who, probably, was not so devoid of common sense, and incapable of observation, as not to know pretty nearly what proportion of those endearments were properly addressed to the horse, what virtually bestowed upon himself.
Upon his arrival at Mrs. Jennings’s house, the reception which John now met was very unlike what he had before experienced. The cases containing the miniature picture and the gold chain were delivered to him. Mrs. Jennings quitted the room, and upon his finding himself alone with Amelia, he began as follows—
I confess to you, Miss Jones, I feel myself very highly gratified by the handsome manner, in which you have declined taking this pledge of my poor mother’s affection and regard for you, till I could have an opportunity of delivering it into your hands agreeably to her particular instruction and desire. I am sensible it is a refinement, that very many people would not feel, but happily for me you did, and the melancholy event, that has since occurred, naturally makes me the more desirous of adhering strictly to what she gave me in command: this I now do, when I have the honour of presenting to you, as a token of her very sincere esteem, this miniature of your father; what the other case contains is simply a chain, which I hope you will accept from me, though it has neither the same intrinsic value as a relick, nor the same ideal value as a memorial of the donor.
Pardon me, exclaimed Amelia, eagerly interposing, what the other case contains is a gift not only very beautiful in itself, but infinitely valuable to me for the giver’s sake.
Oh! that I might believe you, cried the enraptured youth.
Indeed you may, she naturally replied. I prize it as your gift above all computation.
Nay, now, enchantress, he exclaimed, if your beauty and your kindness overcome my reason, you must either pardon my transports, or escape out of my company. To be told that you will prize this trifle, because it is my gift, is such a favour as can only be repaid by tendering to you my heart—my life—myself—my every thing—and, saying this, he pressed the unreluctant damsel to his bosom, accompanying each fond endearing phrase with tender but respectful delicate caresses.
As soon as he had released her from his arms he led her to a chair, kept her hand in his, and seated himself by her: she was not in the least abashed, did not betray any extraordinary agitation, nor studied to avoid his eyes; for real purity is not suspicious—Amelia, he cried, I know the sacred nature of the responsibility I have incurred by giving way to the raptures, which your charms inspired. Your father’s picture hangs before me; I well remember the apostrophe I made to it; you do not want the presence of Mrs. Jennings to guarantee my good behaviour; your very best duenna is my honour. That mother, who is scarcely cold in her shrowd, with her dying breath bequeathed you to my honour, my protection and my constant care through life. These are my duties; they are such as a brother, as a guardian or a father might engage in: I don’t commence my execution of them after the way of either of these, but, availing myself of the first favourable opportunity, and snatching at the first kind expression, which your politeness prompts you to address to me, I instantly throw my unprivileged arms about your chaste and beauteous person with all the ardour of a lover—All this is true: I felt that ardour, and I feel that love—Let me now ask you, Does the declaration of that love offend you?