# Duty and Inclination/Chapter 8

CHAPTER VIII.
"Meanwhile the world, Ambition, owns thy sway,
 Fame's loudest trumpet labours in thy praise;
For thee the Muse awakes her sweetest lay,
 And Flattery bids for thee her altars blaze."
And now, while we take a retrospect of the parentage and life of General De Brooke, let us leave him and his family in their retired cottage, equally remote, we will suppose, from the cares and molestations of the world, as it undoubtedly was from every gay allurement.
Sir Aubrey De Brooke, the father of the General, possessed sentiments and principles wholly opposed to those of his son. In proportion as the former, worldly and aspiring, mounted, by degrees, the high summit of fame, the latter, however amiable in temper, yet indiscreet and volatile, sunk, in the same gradual succession, into obscurity.
Sir Aubrey, early in life, married an heiress, well knowing that ambition tends only to disappointment and mortification, unless it meets with ​encouragement and assistance from fortune. The wealth of the lady of whom he made choice, though her least recommendation to those who estimated her virtues, was to Sir Aubrey her principal attraction, his views aiming at aggrandisement;—to rise, and to become renowned in his profession, being the chief and buoyant hope which ever gave animation and energy to his resolves.
His military prowess was marked with an ability ensuring success, defying the opposition of those casual obstacles which almost every individual must expect to encounter, even in the pursuance of schemes the most wise and best concerted. Talents prompted by zeal and activity can seldom remain long unnoticed, and particularly when fortune lends her aid to place them in a conspicuous light. Thus the father of De Brooke became distinguished, no less by his intrepidity than by his counsel: considered as one of the most experienced generals of the day, fame and honour attended him. The friend of his sovereign, the favourite at court, his interest and influence were unbounded. Successively appointed to stations of the highest eminence and responsibility in the kingdom, great was the splendour of his public character.
Let us now contemplate him in private life,—as ​a husband and a parent. He had several children; but of these two only survived, his first-born son, and a daughter two years older. The former, the unfortunate De Brooke, from his earliest years, never experienced that tender regard which nature has almost universally implanted in the parent's breast, and which seldom fails to awaken, in return, juvenile sympathy and sensibility. Perpetually engaged in public affairs, Sir Aubrey derived no pleasure from domestic scenes. The growing intelligence of youth, and the charms of innocence failed to impress his feelings; whilst the most trifling error of his children elicited his rebuke. He was never remiss, however, in fulfilling the obligations of a parent. Whether from a sense of duty, or from a feeling of pride, the most ample means were afforded by him in bestowing upon his son a finished education.
The young Aubrey, therefore, was placed at a public seminary of high repute, until found competent for a military college; after which he was sent with a preceptor abroad, to make the tour of Germany, France, and Holland. Though grateful for these advantages, and the acquirements thence attained, yet the want of early confidence in his father had left upon his mind impressions not to be effaced; insomuch that, on his return from ​his travels, when he presented himself to Sir Aubrey, he still, in approaching him, felt anxiety and dread. His polished exterior and travelled ease, however, were not obscured by the restraint he laboured under, and were perceived by his father with a feeling of gratification that mingled with his usual cold severity of aspect, and softened those harsh reflections he was ever inclined to pass upon his person, which, though but little beneath the ordinary height, still lost when contrasted with Sir Aubrey's lofty and superior stature.
The worldly parent estimated his son by his own standard; and his self-love would have been gratified, had the sapling of his rearing, in its progression to maturity, resembled more the stately trunk whence it had derived its origin. Nevertheless, Sir Aubrey hoped his son would, with an undeviating exactitude, pursue the path he had traced out for him; that path, in treading which he was to seek for the advantages and preferments of fortune only—to be, as himself, a courtier—to renounce and sacrifice every latent spring of youth, and every inclination and affection of his heart.
To act up to these cold and selfish maxims of ambition De Brooke found impossible; foreign, indeed, would have been such a conduct to the fervent bent of his feelings. Nevertheless, the plans ​of Sir Aubrey, for the future aggrandisement of his son, did not fail to meet with a prosperous beginning; and his having obtained for him an ensigncy in the Guards, (equivalent to a company in the line,) was truly a happy omen of future promotion in his military career. But, alas! ere long, these flattering prospects faded—the ambitious projects of the father were frustrated by the youthful levities of the son. It seemed as if, in every quality of his mind, De Brooke differed from his father.
"Inclinations vary;—and the Power
That beams, ascendant on the natal hour,
Even Twins produces of discordant souls,
And tempers wide asunder as the poles."
The one possessing cool deliberation, solidity of judgment, and inflexible perseverance; the other, of a warm imagination, volatile, and unreflecting. Pleasure, like a brilliant meteor, danced before his eyes; and never did he think how transient was the beam. A few indiscretions, of but trifling consequence, led to the commission of others of more serious import; which, when represented to Sir Aubrey, under, possibly, exaggerated details, incensed and irritated him to the highest degree. Little disposed to seek the confidence and friendship of his son, in order to instil into him better precepts, to advise and reclaim him by timely ​admonition, the mortification of offended pride unhappily prevailed, at a time when the young De Brooke was as open to conviction as he was new in the commission of error; and who, if found to be impatient of control, was yet mild; if extravagant, was yet generous; and if intemperate in the pursuit of pleasure, was no less ardent in every feeling of kindness and humanity.
But that which, above all other circumstances, conspired to alienate the affections of Sir Aubrey from his son, was his total aversion to a match he had set his mind upon, between the youthful Aubrey and a woman of high birth, an heiress, but counting nearly double his years. Unforgiving and relentless, in thus having his ambitious plans frustrated, to afford his mind alleviation under the wounds he had received on his son's account, he resolved a second time to banish him from his sight, and to send him to a foreign country; and for this an occasion soon presented itself.
General Sandford, with whom he was intimately acquainted, being at that particidar juncture despatched to Portugal, with the command of the British auxiliary army, was rejoiced to find he had it in his power to oblige both Sir Aubrey and his son, by appointing the latter his aide-de-camp. After, therefore, taking an affectionate leave of his mother ​and sister, De Brooke found himself upon the seas, pursuing his voyage to Lisbon.
Introduced immediately into the best houses, caressed by his general, and frequently employed upon active service, time, as it fled, gave him no cause to regret his absence from England. Unsubdued as was his gay, unthinking character, the irregularity of his actions often led him into circumstances and situations the most inconvenient and difficult. Nevertheless, unswayed by any intense or intemperate passion, moments often arose when the heart beat with a more calm pulsation; and the effervescent follies of the youth were dissipated, until some fresh and powerful incitement induced again his prevailing foibles.
During the period of his sojourn at Lisbon, he was made acquainted with several important changes in his family. The first was the marriage of his sister with a gentleman of the law, whose abilities were ever displayed amongst the circles of the great, and was accordingly introduced to the notice of Sir Aubrey. Having, in the career of his labours, amassed an immense revenue, he thought himself entitled to seek, in his matrimonial engagement, a connection which might confer greater splendour on his riches. Thus the daughter of Sir Aubrey De Brooke fixed his attention, even some ​years before he asked permission to address her; who, wishing an establishment of her own, was the more willing to profit by so advantageous a settlement, and enter into the views of her father. The courtship was but the affair of a moment; and De Brooke, her brother, justly concluded it to be a match formed solely upon interested motives—avarice on the one hand, and ambition on the other.
But a short period had elapsed after this alliance of his sister, when a temporary check was given to her worldly enjoyments, by the death of her mother. To De Brooke the intelligence proved a real affliction. The amiable qualities of his mother, and the tender care bestowed by her upon his infancy, were indelibly engrafted on his heart.
There was another, a constant companion and participator in the feelings of De Brooke—a humble friend—one who, in bearing testimony to his mother's virtues, dropped with him the tear, also, of gratitude, respect and affection to her memory—a negro servant, who, shortly after breathing the day in his native southern clime, was destined, with his sable mother, to be transported to the West India islands; where, after a few years had invigorated his limbs, he was made to toil, by the side of his mother, in the fields. Alas! to this early endurance of hardship, a keener misery was to follow. From ​some slight offence given by his mother to her employer, a fatal blow inflicted on her temple, aimed in a moment of phrenzied brutality, levelled her with the dust; presenting to the negro child a spectacle that filled his young, warm heart with horror! Shrieks and cries!—what might they avail?—could they restore the bleeding, the expiring victim to whom he owed his birth? Attractive were the features, shape and gait of that negress; not less so those of the boy, who bore a striking resemblance to her. The sole object of her love—the consoler in her toils—the soother of her existence—all in all to her, she had been the same to him.
A sudden dread of discovery, or remorse of conscience, arising in the author of so much misery, determined him to sell the young afflicted African to the American captain of a vessel trading in slaves, lately arrived from the coast of Guinea. The new master of the young negro, being no stranger to the source whence flowed his tears of grief, and not callous to the miseries of those depressed by fortune to servile dependence, noticed Robert (as he had been named) above his fellows in slavery. This kindness not only lightened the poor boy's sorrow, but caused him, in the expressions of his gratitude, to show he possessed ​an acuteness and discernment above his years—a discovery which decided his master, in the disposing of his other slaves as best suited his traffic, to keep Robert, with the view of making him serviceable to himself. Having remained in port only to take in a cargo of other merchandize, he set sail for the Cape, where his wife resided—the young mistress of a large hotel, frequented by travellers of all descriptions, carried thither for repose or refreshment, in their respective voyages to and from India, or other eastern parts—and of a kind-hearted disposition. She esteemed Robert accordingly; and therefore felt desirous of retaining him about her. In this, however, she did not succeed.
The captain, like most sea-faring men, after a due interval, dissatisfied with remaining on shore, and wishing to extend and vary his traffic, as he was sometimes in the habit of doing, accompanied by Robert, again put to sea, and steered his course, with his merchandize, for England.
Some private views leading him towards the north of England, it happened that he fell ill in a small village near the country-house, where chiefly resided the mother of De Brooke, who, living in comparative seclusion, devoted herself to her little family; whilst her husband, then General De Brooke, held nearly a permanent station at the court of his sovereign. ​The invalid merchant finding himself, by a long illness, involved in pecuniary embarrassments, which he had but little foreseen or provided against, in order to extricate himself in some degree from such difficulties, was under the painful necessity of parting with Robert. The tale of the merchant's unhappy situation reached the ear of her who ever befriended the distressed; and, with her charitable offerings of assistance to himself, she became also the protector of the orphan negro, by engaging him in her service.
No sooner was this humane act accomplished, and Robert had become an inmate of the house, than an inconvenience arose, on account of the antipathy of the General for those swarthy beings transported from the arid soil of Africa. The only expedient the benefactress of Robert could devise, was, to tell him he was to consider himself as the servant of her son; and, in consequence, needed not present himself before the General, unless called for. By behaving well, and attaching himself to her son, he might become his future valet. The sensibility of heart, which Robert could not help manifesting, on quitting his last master, endeared him as much to his mistress, as his readiness to oblige and good-natured manners had done with the rest of the household; and each partaking in ​the mutual desire of keeping him, it became customary amongst the dependents, whenever their master chanced to visit his family at his country mansion, to hurry Robert into some remote corner, where he might be secure from observation, nor incur the hazard of being turned out of doors, to wander abroad in an unpitying world.
A few months had passed, when one day the General unexpectedly made his appearance. Nothing could have happened more mal à propos, being just the moment when Robert had entered the usual sitting-room of the family; and, by the desire of his young master, was in the act of attaching a favourite monkey to the leg of a chair, to which Mrs. De Brooke, not wishing to oppose her son in what she considered a harmless diversion, had made no objection. The door suddenly opening, presented the General, erect, dignified and stately: struck with disdain and contempt at the objects which met his eye, he advanced not, but cast an inquisitive and indignant glance at his wife, who was about affording the desired explanation, when, seized with a panic, the black prostrated himself at the feet of the stern object before him, who looked so formidable; embraced his knees, sued, and pleaded for mercy.
Mrs. De Brooke, assuming courage, told her ​simple story, which, if not altogether approved of, yet did not, as she had anticipated, call forth any immediate animadversions. The lively gestures and looks of the young African having become his own intercessors, dictated by sensibility, and full of grace and candour, might have softened the breast of any, however repugnant to his caste or colour. He was, therefore, dismissed from the apartment without further comment.
But little older than his young master, Robert proved to him a great acquisition in promoting the success of his juvenile sports. Naturally ingenious, he failed not to accomplish whatever he attempted. In the construction of a boat, cross-bow, or kite, or any other sort of boyish handicraft, he was alike successful. Thus accustomed to participate with the young Aubrey in his hours of pastime, he at length began to associate with him in those more intimate links, the sympathies of the heart! If aught of anger from the father caused the son to shed a tear, retired and dismayed, Robert would silently give way to grief; and, on the contrary, if joy animated the young master, the same sentiment predominated in the servant. Thus, kindred in feeling, but never descending to familiarity, they grew to manhood. The black, in ever following the fortunes of De Brooke, was still, as we have ​already observed, closely attached to him on the shores of Portugal, an affectionate sharer in the grief he indulged in for the loss of the best of mothers.
Scarcely, however, had a decent period elapsed, when the task was imposed upon De Brooke of congratulating his father upon a second matrimonial engagement. The lady was a widow, and, from what he had heard, was equally distinguished for a cultivated intellect, as for a large inheritance or jointure left her by her late husband. What might be her pretensions to amiability he was yet to learn; but he had reason to suppose she possessed a character essentially different from that of his late mother, and for this reason, doubtless, more in concord and agreement with that of Sir Aubrey.
A lawyer and a step-mother had now entered his family,—formidable foes to contend with, thought De Brooke, unless the world had been led, as he hoped it had, to pass upon such a too indiscriminate censure. Time will determine, sighed he.
Her ladyship did not fail to reply to his letter of felicitation, and therein expressed the warmest assurances of ever acting in conformity with the general interests and harmony of the family of which she had the honour and happiness of becoming a member.
​ It was but a short period subsequently to this new-formed alliance that De Brooke had received the intelligence of his father having been installed a Knight of the Bath; the more flattering to Sir Aubrey, as a proof was given in this new and honourable distinction conferred upon him, how high he stood in the Royal confidence.
Unambitious as was De Brooke, such circumstances but slightly affected him. In a due space of time he returned to England, and, with the ardour of his sensitive disposition, felt impatient to present himself before his father, and obtain from him an introduction to his new relatives; hoping that time had reinstated him in his favour, and assuaged those indignant feelings he had manifested towards him previous to his voyage to Portugal. Nor was he altogether disappointed. Sensibly exhilarated as was Sir Aubrey in the late good fortune which had befallen him, his mind could not but admit of pleasurable feelings; and the past, though in a manner obliterated, was yet to be revived or not, in concurrence with existing circumstances.
The unlucky fatality, however, attendant upon De Brooke, so ordered it, that the resentment of Sir Aubrey was still to pursue him, and to become more than ever rooted and confirmed by an event ​in his life which we are about recordings most deeply influencing his future destiny.
An aged officer, with whom he had been on terms of great intimacy in Portugal, earnestly requested of him, that on his arrival in England he would make inquiries relative to a very particular friend; this was the Reverend Julius Basil who was not only a relation by marriage, but had been the early and most beloved associate of General Boville. De Brooke had promised to do all in his power towards procuring him the desired information respecting one, of whose existence and circumstances in life he had been long ignorant. Nor did he forget his promise.
The parsonage of Whitby, where he had been directed, in the county of York, he was informed, was still the abode of the Rev. J. Basil. He lost no time in repairing thither; and, having sent to acquaint Mr. Basil of the commissions with which he was charged, he received a polite invitation to attend him at his house. He accordingly went, and the result was the following letters from De Brooke to his friend General Boville in Portugal.
Letter I.
"I called upon your friend, the Reverend J. Basil, and was told by the servant who opened the door, ​that his master had retired to his study; and when there engaged, no one could gain admittance, as he always gave the strictest orders never to be intruded upon at those times. I discovered that these were intervals consecrated to religious meditation. I turned to go, but the servant stopped me by saying, that his master having expected my visit had ordered him to conduct me to the shrubbery, where in a short time he would attend me. I therefore passed with him into the pleasure-grounds: though much limited in space, they displayed exquisite taste, and commanded one of the most picturesque scenes that fancy can describe. Enchanted with the beauties around me, I had just seated myself on a rustic bench, when I received a summons to attend your friend.
"Never have I beheld a more venerable object. A very aged man, with locks of silver, clad in the deepest mourning; a tall emaciated form, bending with infirmity, but more, as was visible to the eye, from recent affliction. His countenance was marked by an expression language is inadequate to paint; it exhibited the most striking contrast to a frame, which seemed dissolving into air,—a frame, that would soon leave unshackled an immortal soul,—a soul that seemed soaring to its Maker, and its association with kindred spirits in heaven. His ​resplendent physiognomy, together with the superior energy of his expressions, absorbed me in listening awe and deep attention, till roused by the entrance of a young female, as touching and interesting as her revered parent. Upon seeing him engaged in conversation with me, she would have retired, had not her father urged her stay. She seemed scarcely to have attained her seventeenth year; her form was slight, but exquisitely beautiful; it was perfect symmetry: she was also clad in the sober livery of grief; a profusion of dark hair encompassed her head, and partly reclined upon a bosom as white, and we may suppose as pure, as the modest snowdrop. The pallidness of her cheek was for a moment tinged by a faint blush; excess of suffering seemed to have chased from their seat the roses glowing hue. Dejection and melancholy invaded the lovely mourner; she having but lately lost the best and most indulgent friend, her mother. Resignation, however, seemed just beginning to diffuse its balm, which, to the elasticity of the youthful mind, might soon dispel that grief which had no doubt been fast consuming her delicate frame. Her features, though not regular, were the more interesting and engaging; her large eyes, when raised to her father, apparently dimmed of their lustre, displayed ​so sweet an expression of tender sensibility, as convinced me she possessed a soul of no common mould.
"The good man regarded her with looks of the most benign affection, but mingled with that painful solicitude, disclosing to me that Angelina was the innocent cause of burthening her father's heart with keen oppression. Unhappy man! Thus did I interpret the language of his thoughts. Alas! he felt conscious that his weak frame was verging towards its parent dust; that his spirit would soon rejoin his consort; and what would become of his angelic child? so young, so fair!—and must she be left an orphan, friendless and forlorn, unprotected in an unfeeling world, exposed to those precipices and quicksands which surround the innocent? Tears glistened in the eyes of the venerable parent: such must have been his thoughts.
"I was deeply affected, and turned to conceal also my starting tear.
"Fear not, most excellent, most respectable of men! thou and thy daughter have kindled that interest in my heart, that when thou hast departed to the bright realms of eternal bliss, I will be a parent to thy child,—her friend, her brother: yes! and if she would yield to me her gentle heart, perhaps her husband. But should another be blest ​with that treasure, my task shall be to make her happy, even should my heart burst in the conflict; and when I abandon her, may God abandon me!
"Yours, &c., &c., "Aubrey De Brooke." "July 12."
Letter II.
"My imagination, my whole soul I should say, having become susceptible of a variety of feelings during my first visit to the Parsonage,—,veneration for the sire, love for the daughter preponderating over all,—I resolved to take up my abode in the little village, near the dear habitation containing objects superior to any the world had ever before presented to me. I thought I could not better employ my time during the leave of absence graciously granted me in consideration of my services abroad.
"The aged Basil, who is a man of penetration, soon discovered that I felt a more than common interest in visiting so frequently his rural retreat; and I was not less flattered and encouraged by the partiality he manifested, than by the confidence he reposed in me. He often expatiated with a parent's fondness upon the sweetness of disposition, the many amiable qualities of his dearly beloved ​child, his only solace; and I shall never forget his benign language; the resignation with which he touched upon the subject of his dissolution.
"The hour, he said, was fast approaching; he felt sensible that he was every day drawing nearer to the period which would close for ever this mortal scene, and which would leave his child an orphan.
"The last mournful words faltered on his lip: his venerable hands, his tear-swollen eyes, were raised in supplication to Heaven. My feelings became excessive: unconscious of what I did, I threw myself at his feet, and clasped his knees.
"'Dear sir,' I exclaimed, 'your child shall be protected. Grant me the right of doing so; grant me the blessing which I crave; make me her guardian!'
"He was inexpressibly affected; his frame shook; he made a motion for me to rise; I obeyed, but he spoke not.
"The next moment Angelina entered. She did not seem to observe my confusion, nor the agitation of her father: she held in her hand a bird, which, with infantine playfulness, she advanced to show me; and having caressed it with the simplicity of youth, she gave the little captive its liberty. The sorrow she had experienced for the ​loss of her mother had greatly abated since I first beheld her; she began to give way to sprightly sallies; her countenance assumed an expression of gaiety, less interesting, but more brilliant. I perceived, but it was not without increasing admiration, that vivacity was her natural characteristic.—If, when languishing under dejection, she captivated my heart, you may imagine how greatly my passion strengthened, when each day opened to my view some new grace, some new charm, as well mental as personal.
"This innocent creature has never been seen or admired by any, the village rustic excepted around her dwelling; she has therefore remained perfectly ignorant of the effect of her charms, and their power over the heart. Fashion, in the little spot she inhabits, has not usurped its sway: Angelina's natural beauties shine far more lovely in her simple attire than they possibly could do if invested by the trappings of art. Wild and thoughtless, light and airy, I have seen her chase a butterfly; her glossy tresses sporting in the breeze, sometimes entwining her beautiful neck, or partly shading her finely formed waist. The tutored belle of fashion gliding down the dance, amidst obsequious beaux, never awakened half the rapture, was never half so graceful and alert.
​ "I was almost a constant visitor at the Parsonage, but she who attracted me thither did not gratify me with her presence as often as I wished. The reflection pained me extremely. She no longer addressed me with her usual ingenuousness; her manners became reserved; it appeared as if she studiously avoided me. If she entered the room where I happened to be, it had the effect of accident, and she as quickly left it. In proportion as I gained upon the approbation of the father, I seemed to recede with the daughter, and which naturally caused me much uneasiness. I redoubled my attentions towards her; I resolved not to yield my point without a due perseverance; and, if I failed to excite a return of those sentiments with which she had inspired me, I would at least endeavour to merit her friendship. The resolution with which I ended my last letter I was persuaded nothing could shake—I had determined to keep it inviolable.
"Angelina, it is true, received my efforts to please her with complacency, and not without a smile that might have rewarded me for my sufferings, had I not conceived I had seen her smile more graciously, and her fine eyes sparkle with more brilliancy upon another, a young man in the neighbourhood, the son of a wealthy farmer. He sometimes came to the Parsonage; he was of a ​respectable and good appearance, but there was an unmeaning simplicity in his air and look, indicating no great brightness of intellect.
"Though he appeared to me of all beings in the world the most unsuitable to Angelina, yet, from the familiarity existing between the young people, I suspected he was my rival. Surely, thought I, Angelina could never sacrifice herself to one so much her inferior, to one so little capable of appreciating her perfections, did she not consider wealth as an equivalent for other deficiencies. The bare idea that such might be the case did injury to the sentiments I entertained of her, and I resolved to suspend all further investigation until I had questioned her father.
"The conference in which his daughter had interrupted us I had often sought, but never could find a fit opportunity to renew. The dear man, I believe, perceiving the anxiety I laboured under, addressed me himself upon the interesting topic.
"'Captain De Brooke' said he, grasping my hand while he spoke, 'my acquaintance with you has been but short; nevertheless it has been sufficient to assure me of your worth; the high integrity, the nobleness and disinterestedness of your mind and character. You are attached to my child; ​you have partly declared it: your whole proceedings show it. I purposely evaded speaking to you before; I wished to observe your manners, particularly in moments when you might be the least suspicious of my design: the scrutiny has ended in recommending you more strongly to my esteem. I also wished, as a silent spectator, to witness my child's behaviour towards you, whence I might be enabled to discover her sentiments.'
"At that moment I was breathless with expectation, my temples throbbed, a few words more were to decide my fate,—the plans I was to adopt for the future. He proceeded in a low voice, it was nearly inarticulate,—Good Heavens! had I heard aright?—'Angelina is engaged to another.' A dizziness seized my brain; he perceived it, and was hastening to call for assistance, but I checked him.
"'My good friend' he cried, 'you are overcome with alarm; attend to the conclusion of my story, and you will find that your fears are groundless. My dear daughter, with whom it is usual to think and feel as I do, has imbibed for you a great partiality. Nay, wherefore that distinistful smile? Her warm heart beats with a fervour, with sentiments much more powerful than a cold approbation merely given as due to your merits.'
​ "I interrupted him, and, with the ardour of an impassioned lover, expressed my transports, declaring that I adored her.
"'Nay, nay,' replied the good man smiling, 'for the present more moderation; you forget the late cause of your alarm; but I will explain her situation. I have had several children; Angelina was the youngest of all my little ones, and she only survived; the last that death deprived me of was a boy about the age of eleven: Angelina was then seven, but though so young, her sensibility was much affected by the loss of her brother, insomuch that I feared, in following him to the grave, I might be left childless. The only expedient I could devise towards diverting her grief, was to provide her with a playmate. Nichols, the young man whom you have seen here, was then about the age of my son, and struck the juvenile fancy of Angelina, as bearing some resemblance to her brother. I therefore solicited his friends to allow him to spend much of his time with us; he was a quiet inoffensive lad; and a mutual affection was the natural result of their childish sports: notwithstanding which, I have reason to be confirmed in my opinion, that their regard for each other never ripened into a permanent or warm attachment; nor do I think the happiness of either ​would be promoted by an union. It is true he possesses moral worth, but the higher intellectual faculty in him is incapable of improvement: a being suited to plod on in that humble mediocrity alone, to which he is by inheritance destined. Indeed, there admits of no comparison between him and my child, who is his superior in every respect: to great natural parts, she adds some cultivation, afforded by myself and her excellent mother; she is all warmth, energy and brilliancy; he is cold, phlegmatic, dull. It is impossible that natures so opposite can assimilate. However, Angelina, unaccustomed to gallantry, has not been till hitherto greatly sensible to the want of ardour in her lover, who, I am now persuaded, paid his addresses to her more through the instigation and advice of his friends, than from any preconceived, unbiassed sentiment of his own. He has been urged and pushed on in this affair, and has not courage in himself to pursue it. The superiority and refinement of Angelina awe and keep him from approaching her; notwithstanding the poor child, who by all his family has been ever much prepossessed in his favour, tries to encourage him by the really genuine kindness and affability of her manners. Some months have elapsed since she has been taught to consider him as the object destined for her future partner; it being her ​mother's dying wish, that when she had attained her seventeenth year, she might give her hand to Nichols. 'Without the protection of a husband,' said she, 'what will become of our dear child? advanced as you are in years, it is probable you will not long survive me.' The reflection was an awful one, and I attended to the injunctions of my dying wife.'
"The remembrance of his departed consort checked his utterance; he then feebly added: 'Thus you may trace the causes which have operated towards the favouring of this match, and no doubt you will approve of the reasons which have long led me to be desirous of putting a finish to all further proceedings, and which I should sooner have done; but, alas! I wanted courage under circumstances so distressing and critical. Providence, all gracious, all merciful, has heard my prayer in guiding you, Captain De Brooke, to my house. Oh, sir, may you be blessed as you deserve to be!'
"Tears chased each other down his furrowed cheeks; with scarcely less emotion I essayed to soothe him.
"'And will Angelina then be mine?' I exclaimed. His answer was by a warm pressure of the hand, whilst his countenance resumed its composure. 'I suspect that young Nichols,' continued he, ​'has imbibed an attachment for another; one, who is more his equal than my child; but on a principle of honour, his first engagements bind him to her. I entertain the supposition from what I have heard merely, and it is my intention to communicate with Angelina accordingly, who, I doubt not, will be instantly willing to release him from his captivity. Disengaged from Nichols, she will be no longer under the painful necessity of practising a restraint upon her feelings; and will then be at liberty freely to indulge those sentiments in your favour, which I have plainly perceived she has been struggling to subdue.'
"How delightful were such sounds! they penetrated my heart and filled me with ecstasy. The cause of Angelina's late reserve towards me was thus accounted for, and endeared her to me the more.
"Exhausted by the long conference he had held, I persuaded your benign friend to take refreshment; and after thanking him a thousand times for having raised me from a state of distress to make me the happiest of men, I returned to my lodgings in the little village just by; not, however, until I had acceded to the request of the dear Basil to renew my visits daily.
"Yours, &c. "A. De Brooke."
Letter III.
"How strangely and how suddenly are events sometimes brought about! How little did I imagine, when, in Portugal, you charged me with letters for your friend, that that friend was to become my father, by his child, his lovely child, becoming my wife! About two months have revolved since I first beheld her: she is now mine! Angelina is mine, by the closest and most indissoluble ties. But her father, that best of men, is no more—he is gone for ever! Heaven heard this departed saint; unworthy as I am, I was sent a harbinger of peace to him, in becoming the protector of his child. He had then nothing more to desire in this world. For many years the infirmity of his body had been rapidly advancing; it was easy therefore for his spirit to break its fetters, and soar to immortality,—that haven of eternal tranquillity, rest, and happiness.
"Had I never before entertained sentiments of religion, callous indeed must I have been, had I not become deeply impressed by the lessons I have been taught these few last months. What exemplary piety! what virtue and goodness have I not witnessed! and how has it caused me to deplore my former levities! Surely, had this good divine ​been acquainted with half the cause I have for repentance, he would have feared entrusting me with his beloved child!
"But I will proceed, in a more regular train, to inform you of the particulars respecting my marriage. The day after Mr. Basil had unburthened his mind in the explanation he made me, no less satisfactory to him than to myself, I wrote him a few lines, intimating that it was my wish to leave the country for a few weeks, but that beyond that period nothing could tempt me to prolong my absence; that I should count every minute lost until I revisited the Parsonage: for the present, I conceived motives of delicacy prevented me from so doing. To my short note I received, half an hour after, a very long letter from your dear and excellent friend; it is too much to transcribe, or you should have had it. The contents spoke at once to my soul; the sentiments were endearing, tender, kind, the language eloquent and persuasive; the aspirations of the saint breathed in every line. I resolved to peruse it daily, that my spirit might extract some portion of its charity; and that it might teach me not to waste in vain repinings the moments that separated me from the objects I loved.
"I have no doubt you will approve, as did her ​father, of my submitting to a temporary absence; it was to give Angelina time to collect herself. I would not upon any account have injured her delicacy, by intruding myself too soon upon her notice. I was aware that no one could plead my cause better than her father, were pleading necessary; he could urge my suit with gentleness, control,—God forbid! Angelina has never been accustomed to that harsh word, nor ever shall I use it. I shall never exert any authority over her than that of affection, and she will be too sensible of this goodness ever to take advantage of it.
"After three long tedious weeks I returned to the Parsonage, to that sweet, humble spot, containing objects so inexpressibly dear to me. A few minutes discovered them, the venerable Basil and his lovely daughter; they were seated together under the shade of a rustic arbour, at one side of their little rural plantation. As I advanced, I perceived Angelina covered with confusion; the dear girl was all timidity; she soon, however, recovered herself, and, with the most charming air in the world,—for it was perfect nature,—it proceeded from the interior bias of her affectionate heart,—she sprung forward to meet me, and, with a spontaneous movement, gave me her hand. I pressed it fervently to my breast; the action did ​not displease her; on the contrary, I could perceive pleasure beaming in her beautiful eyes. The father received me with the greatest cordiality, but I was pained on observing his increasing feebleness. They each resumed their seat in the arbour, and I placed myself beside the dear innocent girl. Love! what cannot love dictate? a thousand agreeable things, a thousand animated remarks! I had the satisfaction to behold in Angelina's expressive looks that I had not been deficient.
"I need not extend my letter by relating the full account of my courtship; suffice it to say, that Angelina's heart was wholly mine, of which I had the most convincing proofs. It gave me pleasure to find that the worthy sire did not start any objection to my proposals for a speedy marriage. I did not wish to distress his mind, nor indeed my own, by making much mention to him of Sir Aubrey, with regard to the little cordiality existing between him and myself. Family dissensions I knew above all things he dreaded; I therefore carefully avoided to touch upon such subjects, in the fear of retarding our nuptials. In fact, I succeeded in persuading him I had my fathers full consent to my marriage with his daughter: God forgive me for this deception! I practised it in compassion to his excessive languor, unwilling ​to disturb his contemplations of the eternal world into which he seemed hastening; and pre-occupied with these ideas, he did not give to my information the close scrutiny I had feared.
"If there was anything on earth of which I was tenacious, it was that of being wedded to a woman capable of engaging and fixing my affections; interested matches I have at all times abhorred; and I was well aware how much my father's notions differed from mine respecting this most important concern. Kept during my childhood at an awful distance from him, fatal impressions were unhappily stamped upon my mind. Truly no man can reverence a father more than I do mine; but to ask of him a mark of condescension, to petition his favour, I cannot; rather would I face the cannon's mouth. Despairing of his approbation of my marriage if solicited, I resolved to act for myself. I could not do better than conform to the opinion of so amiable a guide as your friend.
"'Union of mind' said he, 'harmony of disposition, similarity of taste, should undoubtedly be the first objects of consideration. A match formed upon worldly motives, mere speculation, or ambitious views, is faulty, is highly criminal: the reasons wherefore it is so are many. I conceive that even a want of competency, though undoubtedly ​it should be allowed due consideration, ought not to have too great an influence. Providence is always merciful; trust to Providence, and you will assuredly find support. If we could look into futurity, depend upon it we should find that all things have happened just as we ourselves should have directed them. If afflictions come, they are permitted in order to wean us from the things of time, strengthen our souls, and fit them for our final and everlasting abode above.'
"Thus spoke your pious and exalted friend, whose confidence I had been so favoured as to obtain. Why, then, should our union be delayed? He saw no reason; the day was fixed,—that happy day which gave me Angelina, and made me blessed! Surely the sun never shone upon a more charming creature, a more blooming bride, than when her saint-like parent bestowed her on me! Never shall I forget that sacred hour! Delighting in actions of beneficence, never so happy as when witnessing the happiness of others, the good Pastor gave upon the occasion, to a few select families and neighbouring villagers, a little rustic fête. We danced on the lawn before the door of his humble mansion; and never did I experience a more lively joy than when leading off with my bride, nature smiling around us. ​Description is inadequate to the scene; I leave you to imagine it.
"Does gaiety only inhabit towns? Is it alone seen in the splendid assembly? Are not midnight festivities often sources of sorrow, broken sleep, emaciated healthy mental vexation, including a numerous train of ills? Cannot gaiety be the inmate of a cottage? Oh, yes—pure of all alloy, I have seen it beaming in the face of every honest peasant. Gaiety has, of late, been my constant companion; has attended me in every occupation: when I walk, nature opens all her treasures to salute me; the whole creation smiling, seems to say, 'Enjoy, oh man! rejoice, and be happy!'
"I am now truly so, as is also Angelina. That placid resignation, deriving its birth from religion, has enabled her to control and subdue her feelings, more than I could have imagined, for the loss of her revered parent, gifted as she is with such acute sensibility. It is true she can now no longer lend a delighted ear to his elevated precepts; but they are engraven on her heart. Her parent is gone to those enjoyments earth could no more afford him, prepared as he was for heaven, and the beatitudes of an eternal state. Such is the light in which his child beholds her loss: well persuaded of this, and deeply instructed upon ​theological points, she would not recall him, had she even the ability to do so.
"His death was truly a happy one! After having performed the last solemn office, that of giving his dying blessing to his beloved and then afflicted child—as also to myself, and the domestics assembled around his bed—he was supported in the arms of my wife. I was kneeling by his side, when he made an effort to raise himself: at the same moment his calm and gentle look became illumined by an expression almost rapturous. These were the last memorable words uttered by the expiring saint:—'My children,' said he, 'weep no more! my prospects are glorious: angels call me; I obey; they welcome me to immortality.' His languid head sunk back—your friend was gone for ever!
"After the space of about half an hour, my wife suffered herself to be led from the apartment; and I used every argument that the tenderest affection could dictate to soothe the dear orphan left to my protection. She has now no relation in the world, on her side, nearer than yourself; whom, from the circumstance of your quitting England before her birth, she has of course never seen.
"From my former descriptions, you may remember the strong interest with which her youthful loveliness had inspired me from the first hour I ​beheld her. I breathed an inward and solemn vow to become the guardian of her innocence; and with the strictest adherence to perform the joint duties of parent, friend, and brother. She yielded me her gentle heart—I have become her husband; and am thence bound to her by the nearest and dearest tie in creation. And Heaven forbid that Angelina should ever have to say, I have neither parent, friend, nor brother!
"Yours, &c. "Aubrey De Brooke."