The Children of the Abbey: A Tale. Regina Maria Roche
were then ushered into a room contiguous to the one occupied by Amanda, while the bustling of the waiters, and the clattering of knives, forks, and plates, announced the preparations for a late dinner. Oh! what were now the agitations of Amanda, to think that in one moment she could inform Lord Mortimer of her situation; but the transport the idea gave was relinquished almost as soon as felt, as such a measure she thought might perhaps for ever disoblige her father. In this tumult of doubt and perplexity he found her; and by his conduct convinced her that he not only knew of Lord Mortimer’s being in the house, but wished her to avoid him; for he instantly led her from the window, and, shutting it down, darted, for the first time in his life, a severe frown at her; a dagger in the breast of Amanda could scarcely have given her more pain—a cold horror ran through her veins, and she was oppressed by as many fears as if she had been conscious of offending him. The supper he had ordered was a little retarded by the late dinner of his gay neighbors; he would have had it in another room had another been disengaged; vainly did his timid companions try to eat—Amanda was sick, and Ellen frightened, though she knew not why; the waiter was dismissed, and the most unsocial silence prevailed.
Unbounded gayety reigned in the next apartment, from which every sound could plainly be distinguished. Dinner over, the exhilarating juice went round, and bumper toasts were called. Lord Mortimer at last was asked for a fair nymph. “I will give you,” exclaimed he, in a voice which denoted his being uncommonly elevated, “an Angel!”—Amanda’s heart beat violently and her cheeks glowed. “A name for this celestial beauty!” demanded one of the party: “Amanda,” cried his lordship. “Oh, faith, Mortimer, that won’t do;” said another of his companions; “this angel shall not pass without the rest of her name.” “Miss Fitzalan, then,” exclaimed his lordship. “Oh! oh!” cried a new voice, with a loud laugh, after clue honor had been paid to the toast, “I being to unravel a mystery; upon my soul I could not conceive till this instant what had kept you so long at the hall; for I had seen the maiden part of the household, and knew the metal there not very attractive; but this Amanda, I suppose, is the rosy daughter of some poor curate in its vicinity, who for”—“Beware!” interrupted Lord Mortimer in an agitated voice, “of what you say; give me no reason to repent having introduced a name so valued into this company—the situation of Miss Fitzalan is not exactly what you suppose: but let this suffice for you to know—it is such as secures her from every species of impertinence and were it even less protected, her own elegance and propriety would elevate her above receiving any.” The face of Fitzalan, during this conversation, was crimsoned over, and he again darted a frown at the trembling Amanda, which almost petrified her, he told her that she and Ellen must retire immediately to rest, as they had a long journey before them the ensuing day, which would require their rising early. Amanda, for the first time in her life, wished to be relieved from his presence, and gladly rose to obey him; he attended her himself to the room prepared for her, which was directly over that where the gentlemen sat; to think of rest was impossible; the severity of her father’s looks, and her precipitate journey—she knew not whither—but evidently for the purpose of avoiding Lord Mortimer, filled the thoughts of Amanda with confusion and distress: Ellen essayed artless consolation: “What the tefil do you think,” said she, “if I was to go down to give his lortship an intimation of your peing here; you could easily contrive to see him in the garden, or else we could pring him up here, and if the captain surprised us, we could pop him in a moment behind the curtain.” Amanda motioned her to silence, unwilling to lose the smallest sound of Lord Mortimer’s voice, and determined, anxious as she was to see him, never to act in opposition to her father. At length the horses were led from the stable, and the convivial party descended to them. Amanda softly raised the window, and saw Lord Mortimer eagerly vault upon the saddle; he gave a hasty adieu to the friends, and galloped off; they mounted at the same time, but took a contrary direction. Amanda leaned out till she could no longer hear the clattering of the horses’ hoofs; her heart sunk as the sound died upon her ear; she wept as she retired from the window; the idea of Mortimer’s disappointment aggravated her grief; she no longer opposed Ellen’s efforts to undress her; exhausted by fatigue, sleep soon closed her eyes, and fancy again transported her to Tudor Hall and Mortimer.
By the first dawn of day a knock at her chamber-door roused her from this pleasing illusion, and she heard her father desiring her to rise immediately. Drowsy as she was, she instantly obeyed the summons, and awaking Ellen, they were ready to attend him in a few minutes; a boat was already prepared, and on gaining the opposite side they found a carriage in waiting. Day was now just dawning; a gray mist enveloped the mountains, and cast a shade of obscurity upon all the inferior objects; at length the atmosphere began to brighten—the lucid clouds in the cast were tinged with golden radiance, and the sun in beautiful and refulgent majesty arose, gladdening the face of nature with its potent beams; the trees, the shrubs, seemed waving their dewy heads in sign of grateful homage, while their winged inhabitants, as they soared in the air, poured forth the softest notes of melody. Amanda, in spite of sadness, beheld the charming scene with admiration; and Fitzalan contemplated it with delight. “All nature,” he exclaimed, “points out to man the gratitude due to the Divine dispenser of good; hardened must that heart be against the feelings of sensibility, which the harmony and fragrance of this early hour awakens not to a perfect sense of it!” Amanda assented to his remark more by a smile than words, for she was ill able to speak. They stopped not till they reached Gwintey, where they breakfasted, and then proceeded, without resting again, to Holyhead, which place Fitzalan announced as they entered it. And now, Amanda first conceived the idea of being brought to another kingdom, which her father soon confirmed her in—for, as soon as they alighted, he inquired when a packet would sail, and heard with evident pleasure about six in the afternoon. He directly desired three passages to be engaged; and, having ordered an early dinner, dismissed Ellen into another room; and seating himself by Amanda, he took her hand, and with a tender voice thus addressed her: “To give pain to your gentle heart has inflicted torture on mine; but honor compelled me to the conduct which I have adopted, and which, I trust and believe, Amanda will excuse when she knows my motive for it, which in due order she shall hear.
“On Lord Cherbury’s arrival in town, I was immediately informed of it, according to the promise of his domestics, and directly sent him my letter; scarcely had he read it, ere, with all the ardor of true friendship, he came and brought me to his house, where we might securely reflect on what was to be done. His lordship soon formed a plan that at once inspired me with gratitude and pleasure, as it promised me competence without depriving me of independence—this was to accept the agency of a considerable estate in the north of Ireland, which he possessed in right of his wife, the late Countess of Cherbury, who was an Irish heiress. He proposed my residing in the mansion house, offering to advance a sum sufficient to answer all demands and exigencies; and striving to lighten the obligations he conferred upon me, by declaring he had long been seeking a man of well-known probity, as his last agent had gone off considerably in arrears to him. I accepted his generous offer, and soon freed myself from the power of Belgrave. I now felt a tranquillity I was long a stranger to, and was busied in preparing to come down to you, when Lord Mortimer’s letter, like a clap of thunder, broke the happy calm I enjoyed. Gracious heaven! I shuddered to think, that at the very period Lord Cherbury was building up my fortunes, the hopes he entertained for this darling son were in a way of being destroyed, through means of a connection of mine; he had hinted to me his having already settled upon a splendid alliance for Lord Mortimer, which he also hinted his heart was set on: this the infatuated young man had himself some knowledge of; for in his rash letter he entreated my secrecy relative to his proposal for you till beyond the reach of mortals to separate you: no doubt he would never have asked my consent, had he thought he could have procured you without it; he took me, I suppose, for some needy and ambitious creature, who would, though at the expense of integrity, grasp an opportunity of elevating a child to rank and fortune; but never was an erring mortal more mistaken, though dearer to me than the air I breath—though the lovely child of my lost Malvina—though a cherubim, whose innocent endearments often raised in me, as Prospero says—
An undergoing stomach—to bear up Against what should ensue.
I would rather see you breathless at my feet, than, by conscious and apparent meanness, deserve and incur the malevolence of calumny. I committed the letter to the flames, and requested Lord Cherbury’s final commands; being desirous