CHAPTER V
A Tender Avowal
IT MUST be confessed that Captain Ormsby and Major MIntyre were two very different sort of men to Mr. Ferrers. Never were two such gay, noisy, pleasant, commonplace persons. They were on leave from one of the Mediterranean garrisons, had scampered through Italy, shot red-legged partridges all along the Barbary coast, and even smoked a pipe with the Dey of Algiers. They were intoxicated with all the sights they had seen, and all the scrapes they had encountered, which they styled regular adventures: and they insisted upon giving everyone a description of what everybody had heard or seen. In consequence of their arrival, Mr. Ferrers discontinued dining with his accustomed host; and resumed his old habit of riding up to the casino, every evening, on his Barbary ass, to eat oranges and talk to the Consuls daughter.
I suppose you know Florence, Mr. Ferrers? said Major MIntyre.
Mr. Ferrers bowed.
St. Peters, of course, you have seen? said Captain Ormsby.
But have you seen it during Holy Week? said the major. Thats the thing.
Ah, I see you have been everywhere, said the captain: Algiers, of course?
I never was at Algiers, replied Mr. Ferrers, quite rejoiced at the circumstance; and he walked away, and played with the gazelle.
By Jove, said the major, with elevated eyes, not been at Algiers! why, Mr. Consul, I thought you said Mr. Ferrers was a very great traveller indeed; and he has not been at Algiers! I consider Algiers more worth seeing than any place we ever visited. Dont you, Ormsby?
The Consul inquired whether he had met any compatriots at that famous place. The military travellers answered that they had not; but that Lord Bohuns yacht was there; and they understood his lordship was about to proceed to this island. The conversation for some time then dwelt upon Lord Bohun, and his adventures, eccentricities, and wealth. But Captain Ormsby finally pronounced Bohun a devilish good fellow.
Do you know Lord Bohun? inquired Mr. Ferrers.
Why, no! confessed Captain Ormsby: but he is a devilish intimate friend of a devilish intimate friend of mine.
Mr. Ferrers made a sign to Miss Ponsonby; she rose, and followed him into the garden. I cannot endure the jabber of these men, said Mr. Ferrers.
They are very good-natured, said Miss Ponsonby.
It may be so; and I have no right to criticise them. I dare say they think me very dull. However, it appears you will have Lord Bohun here in a short time, and then I shall be forgotten.
That is not a very kind speech. You would not be forgotten, even if absent; and you have, I hope, no thought of quitting us.
I have remained here too long. Besides, I have no wish to play a second part to Lord Bohun.
Who thinks of Lord Bohun? and why should you play a second part to anyone? You are a little perverse, Mr. Ferrers.
I have been in this island ten weeks, said Mr. Ferrers, thoughtfully.
When we begin to count time, we are generally weary, said Miss Ponsonby.
You are in error. I would willingly compound that the rest of my existence should be as happy as the last ten weeks. They have been very happy, said Mr. Ferrers, musingly; very happy, indeed. The only happy time I ever knew. They have been so serene, and so sweet.
And why not remain, then? said Miss Ponsonby, in a low voice.
There are many reasons, said Mr. Ferrers; and he offered his arm to Miss Ponsonby, and they walked together, far away from the casino. These ten weeks have been so serene, and so sweet, he continued, but in a calm voice, because you have been my companion. My life has taken its colour from your character. Now, listen to me, dearest Miss Ponsonby, and be not alarmed. I love you!
Her arm trembled in his.
Yes, I love you; and, believe me, I use that word with no common feeling. It describes the entire devotion of my existence to your life; and my complete sympathy with every attribute of your nature. Calm as may be my speech, I love you with a burning heart.
She bowed her head, and covered her face with her right hand.
Most beauteous lady, continued Mr. Ferrers, pardon me if I agitate you; for my respect is equal to my love. I stand before you a stranger, utterly unknown; and I am so circumstanced that it is not in my power, even at this moment, to offer any explanation of my equivocal position. Yet, whatever I may be, I offer my existence, and all its accidents, good or bad, in homage to your heart. May I indulge the delicious hope that, if not now accepted, they are at least considered with kindliness and without suspicion?
Oh, yes! without suspicion, murmured Miss Ponsonbywithout suspicion. Nothing, nothing in the world shall ever make me believe that you are not so good as you aregifted.
Darling Henrietta! exclaimed Mr. Ferrers, in a voice of melting tenderness; and he pressed her to his heart, and sealed his love upon her lips. This, this is confidence; this, this is the womans love I long have sighed for. Doubt me not, dearest; never doubt me! Say you are mine; once more pledge yourself to me. I leave our isle this night. Nay, start not, sweet one. Tis for our happiness; this night. I shall return to claim my bride. Now, listen, darling! our engagement, our sweet and solemn engagement, is secret. You will never hear from me until we meet again; you may hear of me and not to my advantage. What matter? You love me; you cannot doubt me. I leave with you my honour: an honour never sullied. Mind that. Oh no, you cannot doubt me!
I am yours: I care not what they say: if there be no faith and truth in you, I will despair of them for ever.
Beautiful being! you make me mad with joy. Has fate reserved for me, indeed, this treasure? Am I at length loved, and loved only for myself!
CHAPTER VI
The Famous Lord Bohun
He has gone; Mr. Ferrers has departed. What an event! What a marvellous event! A revolution has occurred in the life of Henrietta Ponsonby: she was no longer her own mistress; she was no longer her fathers child. She belonged to another; and that other a stranger, an unknown, and departed being! How strange! And yet how sweet! This beautiful young lady passed her days in pondering over her singular position. In vain she attempted to struggle with her destiny. In vain she depicted to herself the error, perhaps the madness, of her conduct. She was fascinated. She could not reason; she could not communicate to her father all that had happened. A thousand times her lips moved to reveal her secret; a thousand times an irresistible power restrained them. She remained silent, moody, and restless: she plucked flowers, and threw them to the wind: she gazed upon the sea, and watched the birds in abstraction wilder than their wing: and yet she would not doubt her betrothed. That voice so sweet and solemn, and so sincere, still lingered in her ear: the gaze of that pure and lofty brow was engraven on her memory: never could she forget those delicate adieus!
This change in his daughter was not unmarked by the Consul, who, after some reflection, could not hesitate in considering it as the result of the departure of Mr. Ferrers. The thought made him mournful. It pained his noble nature, that the guest whom he so respected might have trifled with the affections of the child whom he so loved. He spoke to the maiden; but the maiden said she was happy. And, indeed, her conduct gave evidence of restlessness rather than misery; for her heart seemed sometimes exuberantly gay; often did she smile, and ever did she sing. The Consul was conscious there was a mystery he could not fathom. It is bitter for a father at all times to feel that his child is unhappy; but doubly bitter is the pang when he feels that the cause is secret.