# Duty and Inclination/Chapter 1

DUTY AND INCLINATION
CHAPTER I.
"The fountain's fall, the river's flow,
The woody valleys, warm and low;
The windy summit, wild and high,
Roughly rushing on the sky!
 Oh, may I with myself agree,
And never covet what I see;
Content me with an humble shade,
My passions tamed, my wishes laid."
Dyer.
HOW pleasant is the calm which reigns when the storm has ceased! The wind no longer roars in fearful gusts; the waters, which rushed along with rapid course, flow gently; all becomes serene and hushed in quiet. The beauty of the scene, the freshening cool of the evening air, the tranquillity which seemed to pervade all nature, diffused a ​momentary balm over the mind of General De Brooke, as he strolled around his beautifully diversified pleasure-grounds, and beheld the wild magnificence of the surrounding scenery. Those dark impending clouds, gathered by the recent storm, softly dispersing, fleeted away in æther. Every shadowy mist concentrating, passed over the hills, opening a bright perspective, and affording to the eye objects as various as they were lovely,—the picturesque vale, where the Avon, bordered by the pensive willow, spread its bounteous influence and fertilized the meadows; the hills forming an amphitheatre around, some tufted with hanging wood even to their summits, appearing the more luxuriant as contrasted with the barrenness of others. An undulating path led from cliff to cliff, till, obscured by the forest's interwoven branches, and then again appearing, it could be traced to the distant mountain, whose top, broad and towering, mingled in the blue expanse.
This rich assemblage, though to the General no longer wearing the charm of novelty, could not fail of exciting his admiration, to which was added a sentiment of attachment; for even a hill, a stream, wood, or lawn, nature's inanimate but charming objects, become the more endeared to ​us from a frequency of beholding them. When, turning with reluctance from this beautiful landscape, his eyes rested upon his mansion, he sighed; thoughts the most painful crowded upon and agitated him, as he stood contemplating the elegant structure. The persecutions, losses, and disappointments he had sustained arose in terrible array before him; whilst his misery was aggravated by the reflection, that every sanguine hope he had once indulged in of aggrandisement for himself, and consequently for his rising family, was completely baffled. Endued with the best and kindest feelings that ever graced humanity, he was yet acutely aware that the misfortunes he lamented had not fatality solely for their origin, but existed chiefly in his own errors of judgment,—his deficiency in a sound, solid, and reflective understanding. Of great impetuosity of feelings, he never could command their first impulse; but when the ebullition of them had subsided, he sunk into the calmness of resignation; for in addition to the consciousness of blessings still reserved to him under the joint relation of husband and father, he could support misfortune with the most Christian fortitude. To yield himself to vain repinings for past afflictions, he justly considered, would only render those of the present more acute, and ​enervate his mind at a time when courage and firmness were requisite to enable him to adopt a plan such as might rescue his family, not only from present but from future difficulties. After deliberating awhile, he found that the exhausted state of his finances was by no means adequate to his present expenditure; necessity therefore, from which there can be no appeal, determined him to quit his little paradise, that enchanting spot where the highest cultivation intermingled its fanciful decorations with the wild simplicity of unadorned nature.
No longer affluent, it was become necessary to subdue those feelings of regret, naturally excited by the display of taste and beauty everywhere visible, and which indeed might well cause him to waver in the decision to which his fallen fortunes had given rise.
"It is inevitable! The Villa must be parted with!" De Brooke at last ejaculated. "It must fall into the possession of others!" And where was he to go? where should he seek a residence? The wide world was open to him: he had a family,-his provision for them, alas, how scanty! As for himself, he could bear every deprivation; but his wife, his children, those dear and precious partners of every sad vicissitude, of every painful ​deprivation, they must be his companions in some humble abode, in some remote obscurity; for it was in virtuous privacy only that he could hope to find a shelter from an ill-judging and calumnious world.
With such ideas he might have been soothed, had his reflections dwelt with less uneasiness on his daughters, Oriana and Rosilia. He could not without extreme pain think of immuring in the depth of solitude those lovely girls, in the blooming season of youth, endowed with accomplishments such as he conceived could not fail to gain them the suffrage and esteem of those circles suited to the elevation of their birth. Into such a sphere it was no longer in his power to introduce them; and on this account it was that General De Brooke so deeply felt the sacrifice his cruel fortunes imposed. For their mother, his faithful partner alike in prosperity as in adversity, she, he was assured, would willingly fly with him even to the earth's remotest corner: her mind, strong yet pliant, could adapt itself to every situation. In all the emergencies of his varied life never had he seen her change; being devoid of that feminine weakness which still clings to the world, reluctant to forego its flattering sweets. He felt persuaded that the courage of his valued wife would still support her, ​and render her to himself as well as to his children an example and solace.
Such were the meditations of De Brooke, when his paternal sight was gratified by the appearance of his daughters. They had just returned from their evening's walk. He met them with cheerfulness, and giving an arm to each they continued their ramble. The endearing smiles and sweet welcome with which he had been greeted imparted peace to his lacerated bosom; and whilst his soul expanded with the sense of moral obligation and submission to the Divine will, he breathed forth the dictates of parental fondness to his children, in advice for their welfare through the chequered scenes of mortal existence, verifying by his own experience the precariousness of all earthly things.
He then proceeded to tell, or rather to confirm to them what they had before learnt, that his reduced income was insufficient for the many accumulated expenses of the villa, and that it was only adequate to a pleasant retirement, where they might exist free from the gaze of a prying world, in leaving which, he endeavoured to persuade them, they had nothing to regret,
"The world's infectious; few bring back at eve,
Immaculate, the manners of the morn."
Such (in the words of him who had of late become his favourite author) he felt assured was the case. Oriana was nineteen; her sister had scarcely attained her seventeenth year. Enriched with sense beyond their years, their confiding parent had ever made them the companions of his sorrows. They in return revered his virtues, and loved him with the truest filial piety. The misfortunes he had met with gave him an additional claim to their tenderness; and with the most lively sincerity they hastened to relieve him from a world which had robbed their invaluable parent of his peace; with sanguine earnestness expressing themselves convinced he would regain both health and happiness when established in the shade of some tranquil solitude. These amiable girls had never yet experienced a total seclusion, and were consequently unprepared for the isolation which awaited them; and as in the hour of youth every change presents a pleasing variety, so in the anticipation of the future it never occurred to them how great was the sacrifice they were on the point of making, and how difficult it is to reconcile a passive existence with the lively feelings of their age; for then it is that the allurements of life enchant the ​imagination; and in proportion as the mind pants for such enjoyments, a dearth is felt, rendering common things around wearisome and insipid.
Charmed by the sweet converse of his girls, the General had no inclination to terminate his walk; and as they proceeded through the outer gate of his extensive park, they perceived Captain Douglas dismounting from his horse. The hospitality of the General ever induced him to give his visitors a welcome reception, and the apology of Douglas for his intrusion at so unseasonable an hour, having caught a view of the party at a distance, was readily admitted.
The moon had spread her pale majestic light, and but faintly tinged the luxuriant vale beneath,—the rushing sound of streams, forming their way through the broken cavities and interstices of the hills,—the soft breeze,—the fragrant exhalations of the eglantine, embracing the stately elm, which cast partially around its solemn shade,—gave to the scene a species of enchantment. The night’s glorious orb heightened every object into the perfection of beauty; and as its silver beams rested upon the finer form of Rosilia, the sylphid charms of Oriana passed unnoticed.
Douglas felt enraptured, emotions the most powerful took possession of him; his eye intently ​gazed upon her, who, from the first moment he had beheld, her, had awakened feelings which to stifle was impossible. Oriana being still engaged in conversation with her father, Douglas occasionally, in accents scarcely audible, addressed Rosilia; the sorrows of her beloved parent, still fresh upon her thoughts, gave pensiveness to her countenance and sanctity to her manners. With her light and summer garb, sometimes encompassing her delicate form and sometimes floating in the night’s soft breeze, together with the airy grace investing her, she seemed like a being just descended upon the earth, prepared to soar again in aerial flights.
To awe the soul of Douglas, to check his bold presumption, his too great volatility, was difficult; but this Rosilia then for the first time undesignedly effected. The insinuations his remarks were intended to convey seemed not by her replies to be understood, and his complimentary speeches passed from her ear as unmeaning nothings.
From ever having been much favoured by the sex, Douglas had acquired a habit of approaching them with adulation, which, though disregarded by a few, he had found to be successful with the many, and he was consequently unprepared to encounter the timid modesty of Rosilia. Warm and impetuous, captivated by her attractions, his ​enraptured fancy fed on hopes, and painted the realization of them in colours the most glowing: such were the sentiments that either gave an eloquence the most animated to his observations, or caused his half-finished speeches to die away in accents scarcely coherent. Unconscious of being the magnet which thus enchained his faculties, Rosilia often conceived him to possess an extraordinary inconsistency, being at a loss to discover the design or inference of his conversations.
He mentioned having lately returned from the East, spoke of its luxuries and enjoyments; after which, his thoughts recurring to London, he largely expatiated on the fascinations of its pleasures, adding that unfortunately he had passed much of his time there, more than he ought to have done; unavoidable circumstances having in some degree induced it, and finding it difficult to resist the variety of amusements that gay city afforded.
The seriousness his countenance assumed during this short detail, in which he seemed to lament his early errors, caused Rosilia innocently to imagine he laboured under a painful sense of contrition; and as such an idea was deeply calculated to awaken her sensibility, she felt for him a concern and interest his gallantries and pointed assiduities had before proved insufficient to excite. ​Inexperienced as she was artless, she scarcely understood the meaning of the word pleasure, as so frequently applied by Douglas, Did it comprehend vice, or even error? It was a term to her vague and undefined. If indeed it was meant to express the opposition to virtue, viewed in such a light, it is true, he attached an idea to it which made her tremble.
Mindful of his daughters, the General warned them of the lateness of the hour. They soon reached the Villa, and Douglas felt the necessity of departing. Still an irresistible impulse detained him: he remained transfixed to the spot; but at last collecting his scattered reason, he stepped forward, politely bowed and withdrew.