"Dearest Alrina.—I am wretched,—miserable! Grant me an interview for a few minutes. I have something of the greatest importance to communicate. I will be in the garden at the back of the house as soon as the other gentlemen are gone. I shall go out with them to prevent suspicion, and return on some pretence. The faithful bearer of this will assist you and let you know when.
"Adieu—my dearest love,
"Frederick."
When her attendant saw the agitation into which the young lady was thrown, on the perusal of this scrap of paper, her former conjectures were confirmed, and she determined to do her best to assist the two lovers. She had a sympathetic feeling, and she retired to the window under pretence of putting the blind straight, while Alrina perused, and reperused, these few pencilled lines, so dear to her. She thought but a few hours ago that she had overcome every feeling but that of duty and honor, and that she could look upon him whom she so dearly loved, as a brother. It was for his good that she had decided on this course; and she believed that she should have firmness and courage to carry it out to the end; and but a short time ago she felt so strong in her mind and will, that she wished to see him once more to tell him so again. But she then feared that no opportunity would ever offer, and that she should never see him again to explain to him fully the state; of her mind, and her real motives of action; for she felt that she had wronged him in what she had said, and wounded his feelings when she told him she could not love him. She knew she ought not to have said that; but what else could she say? Her father was alive then, and might recover; she could not tell her lover of her father's faults and crimes; and what was she to do? Now, that he was dead, all was known, and Frederick believed, she must now know all too, and she could now tell him why she could not marry him; and she wished and longed to see him once more—only once more—and now the opportunity had come; it might never come again. But her heart failed her; she could not see him and tell him calmly that they must part for ever, and explain her reasons fully, so as to make him understand clearly what she meant. No, she could not do this; and yet she felt that she must see him once more. So she decided on obeying the promptings of her heart; and calling the maid to her, she said she wished to be informed when the gentlemen left, and then she would walk in the back garden a little. It was not at all necessary to explain anything further to that shrewd girl, for she immediately saw how things stood, and managed accordingly.
The Pendrea ladies were summoned to the drawing-room, almost immediately after the departure of the gentlemen, to entertain Captain and Mrs. Courland and their niece, who had come to return the call the squire and his lady had made on them a few days before at Penzance, where they had taken lodgings. Nothing could be better for the interview between the lovers.
Grace, the go-between, as she styled herself, was delighted. She immediately went to Alrina's room, and informed her that all was ready, and that the coast was clear; which information rather astonished the young lady,—for she could not conceive how Grace should know that she wanted the coast clear; unless Frederick had told her more than she thought was prudent. However, she had made up her mind to go through with it; and, having put on her bonnet and shawl, which the prudent Grace had brought with her, followed her conductress into the garden, when Grace shewed her prudence again by withdrawing and leaving the two lovers to themselves.
Alrina trembled at the thought of the terrible trial she was about to go through, and her heart throbbed at every step as she walked down the narrow pathway of the little garden, which was at the very back of the house, secluded from view and sheltered by high walls, with no window to overlook it, although, when you were inside, every part of it was exposed enough, for the trees were very few and stunted.
Frederick had not arrived, evidently, unless he was concealed in the little arbour at the bottom of the garden. Alrina walked down to it and looked in. No, he was not there,—something had detained him, no doubt. She waited, and waited, and walked up and down; still he did not come. She was getting cold. She climbed up so as to look over the wall, but could see nothing of him; and now she began to think he had deceived her. He had taken this course to be revenged for the insult she had offered him, when she told him—he to whom she had so often before avowed the fondest love—that she could not love him. Yes; he had indeed been revenged, and she felt that she deserved it all.
But hark! she hears a footstep approaching towards the garden-door. Her ears are quick; they have been listening intensely for some time. Yes! it must be. She rushes towards the door, and is caught in the arms of two lovely girls.
"Alrina, you naughty girl," exclaimed Blanch, "how could you be so imprudent as to come out in this cold wind?
"Alrina!" exclaimed the young lady; "can it be possible? you, here!—and have I found you at last, my darling schoolfellow!" And the two girls, in their gushing love, embraced most lovingly and affectionately; and then there were explanations to be given and rereceived, and Blanche led the way into Alrina's room, where Julia informed Blanche how they had been at school together, and how her brother Frederick had fallen in love with Alrina, when she was out walking, and how she had carried letters and messages between them, and how her brother had searched for Alrina everywhere, when he returned from abroad, and had written her to search everywhere for his lost lady-love too; and kissing Alrina, in her girlish way, she said, "Oh! how glad Frederick will be to find you here."