"Perhaps you are right in regard to his care for his reputation, Mr. Burrel," replied Sir Sidney Delaware. "But I, who know him better, perhaps, than you do, can not reckon much upon his sense of equity. I know him well--thoroughly! In early years, before these children were born, Lord Ashborough and myself were unfortunately involved in a dispute, which did not arise in any great demonstration of a sense of equity on his part; and since that time, I have reason to believe that disappointment, added to a bitter quarrel, has caused him to watch an opportunity of treading on the head of one, against whom time even--the great mollifier of all things--has not been able to abate his rancor."
"I would fain believe that you do not quite do him justice," replied Burrel. "May not a little personal dislike on your own part, my dear sir, influence your mind against him?"
"No, indeed, Mr. Burrel! No, indeed!" answered Sir Sidney Delaware. "I know him _intus et in cute novi_. He was, and is, and ever will be, the same man. The cause of our quarrel now lies in the cold, forgetful dust, where all such dissensions cease. Besides, I was naturally the least offended of the two, being the injured person. I also was successful; he disappointed--notwithstanding all his arts; and therefore the matter with me was soon forgotten, while with him it has been, I am afraid, long remembered. Nevertheless," he added, "do not for a moment fancy that I am saying all this because I do not intend to follow your advice. Far from it--William shall go up. Indeed, I should think myself very wrong, were I to leave any means untried to remove those embarrassments which shut my children out from the society to which by birth they are entitled."
Captain Delaware soon joined the conference; and, although he shook his head at all idea of changing the determination of Lord Ashborough, yet he undertook to try, with a readiness that the cold and haughty demeanor which he described that nobleman to have maintained toward him, rendered a little extraordinary. The resolution, however, once taken, William Delaware was not a man, either by temperament or habit, to lose a moment in putting it into execution, and his plan, was instantly secured in the next morning's coach for London. Burrel agreed to dine at the mansion, and the day passed over with that additional drop of excitement, which renewed hope and expectation, however faint, are still sure to let fall into the cup of life.
Either it was really so, or Burrel fancied it, that Blanche Delaware was more lovely and more fascinating than ever; and, indeed, the feelings that had been growing upon her for several days, had added an indescribable and sparkling charm to all the attractions of youth, and grace, and beauty. The soul always did much in her case to increase the loveliness that nature had bestowed upon her face and form, and Burrel could not help imagining--even long before--that the graceful movement of each elegant limb, and finely modeled feature, was but the corporeal expression of a bright and generous mind within. But now the heart, too, was called into play, and all the warm and sunny feelings of a young and ardent bosom sparkled irrepressibly up to the surface, calling forth new charms, both in their accidental flash, and in the effort to suppress them.
All Burrel's enthusiasm, too--brought as he was by every circumstance into nearer connection with that fair being, than any other events could possibly have produced--having been admitted to that intimate friendship which no other man shared--having become the friend and adviser of her father and brother, and having saved her own life--all his own natural enthusiasm of character, therefore, unchained by any opposing motive, broke through all the habitual restraints of the state of life to which he had so long been accustomed; and during that afternoon, Henry Burrel, with very little concealment of his feelings, sat beside Blanche Delaware, full of that bright, unaccountable thing--love.
The matter was so evident, and indeed had been so evident for the last two or three days, that the eyes of Captain Delaware himself--not very clear upon such subjects--had been fully opened; and now, as Burrel bent over his sister's drawing-frame with a look of tenderness and affection that would bear but one interpretation, he turned his eyes upon his father to see whether it was really possible that he did not perceive the feelings that were kindling up before him.
No one, perhaps, had ever in his day felt more deep and sincere love than Sir Sidney Delaware, yet--it is wonderful! quite wonderful!--Burrel might almost, as the old romances term it, have died of love at his daughter's feet without his perceiving that any thing was the matter. Burrel was bending over Blanche Delaware with a look, and a tone, and a manner, that all declared, "Never, in the many mingled scenes which I have trod, did I meet with any thing so beautiful, so gentle, so graceful as yourself!" Captain Delaware, as I have said, turned his eyes upon his father; but Sir Sidney, with his fine head a little thrown back, a pair of tortoise-shell spectacles upon his nose, and his face to the book-cases, was walking quietly along, looking earnestly for Pliny.
Oh, had you not forgotten all your lessons in the natural history of the heart, you might have marked much, Sir Sidney Delaware, that would have given you more to study than could be found in Pliny, ay, or Plato either!
"I must look to it myself," thought Captain Delaware. "Poor Blanche! It would not do to have the dear girl's affections trifled with. Yet I do not think he is one to play such a part either.--Oh, no!--yet I must speak to him!"