Graham's Magazine, Vol. XL, No. 5, May 1852

by Various

This young man was an adopted son of a neighboring baron and his lady, whose name he bore. His real parents were unknown. His adopted parents found him, while an infant, laid at the foot of an oak, in Anchor-Wood. Having no children, they brought him up as their own; and he never gave them cause to repent of their choice—which is more than many parents, I fear, can say of their offspring. At an early age he displayed unusual sagacity, and a generous disposition. An old friar, who taught him Latin, and the limited course of education then pursued, declared that Heaven intended him for the church; but the Baron thought otherwise, and intended him for arms. His appearance corresponded with his character. He had a manly and a graceful figure, natural and well developed, not manufactured with wadding, not braced up by stays, as I hear fashionable men now are. He had a noble, open forehead, which you always find in a good man, and a frank and kind expression upon a handsome face. At an early age he was sent to the Low Countries, from whence he returned, after the lapse of five years, bringing with him spurs of knighthood, wounds and scars. He had been from his earliest days a visitor at the castle, in company with his adopted parents, and always received by Sir Hugh with cordiality.

From his youth he was a secret admirer of Agnes. Before he had entered his teens—during that romance period of life—he often used to dream of her. He would at times picture a beautiful castle, situate in a romantic spot, surrounded by a lovely garden, interspersed with fountains and grottoes, where he roamed about by her side, with happiness within, and beauty above and around. He would then put eloquently loving language into his mouth, and listen to an imaginary but equally sweet reply. She occupied his thoughts when awake. In his studies, in his devotions, in his walks, she was always next his heart. But delusions, however sweet, are transitory. These beautiful fancies would quickly fade before the substance of reality. The uncertainty of his origin, the pride and prejudices of her father would rise to his remembrance, and tear away all hope of that union which he so ardently longed for. In moments of despondency he would even doubt the love of Agnes—for as yet it had not been asked for or avowed. He sometimes thought, when they walked together upon a hill opposite her residence, or rode together in a hawking party, that she had a feeling deeper than mere partiality toward him; but this cheering supposition was damped by the knowledge of the uselessness of her consent, unless accompanied with her father’s approval. Nevertheless, he continued to hope against hope. It requires a great deal to cause the heart to abandon an object which it has once cherished. He thought that by perfecting himself in his military exercises, by acquiring fame in his intended profession, he might hide the obscurity of his birth, and render himself, in the eyes of Sir Hugh, a fitting husband for his daughter. With this impulse to stimulate he was industrious and zealous in his duties, and obtained his departure for Flanders sooner than his adopted parents had intended. There, he fulfilled his expectations—he obtained fame for his prowess, and admiration for his character.

Upon his return from the Low Countries, he was pleased to find that no rival had apparently supplanted him in her affection. He was equally pleased in observing that her manner had lost none of its wonted cordiality toward him. Her father also treated him with more respect, and his own friends looked on him with pride. But these propitious appearances did not induce him to divulge his secret, but they encouraged him to renew his former intimacy, so that he might with greater safety formally offer himself as a suitor.

With a woman’s penetrating eye in these matters, Agnes early had suspicions of his feelings and his intentions. She liked him before she knew it herself, and she adroitly gave him opportunities for meeting her, as if by accident; and he (but much more clumsily) would, at other times, throw himself in her way, as if by inadvertence. These intercourses, in time, displayed each other’s feelings too plainly for concealment. He offered her his love—she returned him her heart!

This, the most solemn engagement that man or woman can make, (but, alas! how often made lightly and thoughtlessly—how often made in ignorance of its obligations, in the utter want of its requirements!) was no sooner completed, than she thought for the first time about the approval or disapproval of Sir Hugh. Like Rhoderick, she was afraid to have his consent demanded at once; and as her lover seemed growing in his estimation, she deemed delay desirable.

Among the numerous suitors for her hand, was one whom she disliked more than all the others. He was noble in rank, and illustrious by descent. He possessed broad lands and a numerous retinue. Apparently his manner was agreeable, and his disposition good. But cruelty seemed to lurk beneath his mildness, and pride beneath his affability. Such, however, was the impression he made upon Agnes, and such he was known to be, among those who were well acquainted with him.

From his first visit she endeavored to keep him at a distance; but the effort was fruitless. He would intrude himself whenever he saw her with Sir Rhoderick. A dark shade would pass over his countenance, whenever he saw them apparently enjoying themselves. About two months after her engagement, he repeated his former offer, and again received a refusal. He therefore waited upon her father, and attributed his disappointment to Sir Rhoderick.

Upon this information the old knight became highly enraged, not so much for her refusal of the one, as for her acceptance of the other. He stormed and swore, and then assured his lordship that she should accept his hand, or none.

After the departure of the latter, Agnes was sent for by her father. He very angrily communicated the news he had received, and, in an incredulous tone, asked her if it was true? She replied in the affirmative, and then attempted to justify her choice. She tried to urge whatever she could in favor of him to whom she was betrothed, and in disparagement of his rival. But this attempt only added fuel to the flame. He waxed more wroth than before—he heaped abuse upon her, for accepting one whom he called of base blood, and threatened him with death, if he was again found within his castle.

He then entreated for her acceptance of De Burgh. He brought forward, with all the eloquence he could master, his wealth, his rank, his ancestry, his influence—but all in vain. True love is strengthened by opposition. Every request was met with a determined refusal. At length he threatened to send her to a convent if she persisted in her choice, and as she saw no hope of a connection with her lover, she accepted the offer. She felt that “a living death” was preferable to an odious marriage.