# Duty and Inclination/Chapter 2

CHAPTER II.
"Methinks I see, as thrown from her high sphere,
The glorious fragments of a soul immortal,
With rubbish mix'd and glittering in the dust."
Young.
Captain Douglas was the younger son of a noble Scottish family, and his elder brother, Lord Deloraine, was his only surviving relation. Cast early on the world, he was left to embark on the wide ocean of life, and to seek his fortune, with no other guide but his passions, at a time when they were calculated to gain a complete ascendancy over him; and every propensity, whether of good or evil tendency, alike met with unrestrained indulgence. The higher qualities of candour, warmth of heart, and generosity, were eminently possessed by Douglas; seeming as if inherent in him, as if he could not act in opposition to them,—proceeding not from any notions he entertained of moral rectitude.
Douglas also possessed a high sense of honour; perhaps nothing could have prevailed on him to violate that integrity which he conceived due from ​one human being to another: nor did this proceed from any principle of morality, but from those laws he had established to himself of civil order. Always swayed by the strong and ardent feelings of his heart, by duty never, he was rash, arrogant, and intemperate; nevertheless his perceptions were keen, his discriminations just. Viewed in such a light, he was as a noble structure left to ruin and desolation; for that time which might have been devoted to useful acquirements and honourable pursuits, was squandered away on the idle and the dissipated, amongst those fashionable profligates whose rank and fortune render the contagion of their example the more dangerous, in proportion to the splendour of the pomp and affluence surrounding them. As the companion of such associates, Douglas was early introduced to scenes of gaiety, too consonant to his taste, and where his fascinating address and brilliant exterior never failed to gain him a welcome reception.
Thus passed his youth, wasting in luxury; till suddenly called to reflection by the insufficiency of his means to cope with the frequent calls upon his purse, rendered necessary by the expensive pleasures of the society in which he had enrolled himself.
According to the custom of Scottish laws, his ​father, the late Lord Deloraine, had devised almost the whole of his immense revenue to support the title of his eldest son; leaving Douglas only a confined annuity, but what he deemed a handsome competency if aided by a lucrative yet honourable profession. His intentions however, such as he might have formed relative to the future career of his youngest son, had been unfortunately interrupted by his decease; and Douglas was of a character too lofty and aspiring, humbly to seek resources from a brother whose disposition to avarice was but too well known to him. He preferred rather to launch himself at once upon the world, and seek in it his future destiny,—whether prosperous or otherwise, time would best determine. Contrary to his interests, however, his scanty portion was soon exhausted by those habits of extravagance he had acquired, and which to support without fortune was impossible. To languish in privacy he could not.
Thus situated, he turned his thoughts towards a military life, as the most suited to favour his inclinations. Three-and-twenty was somewhat late, he conceived, to begin a professional career; but having no alternative, through the interests of his friends he procured an ensigncy in a regiment then under orders for India.
​ After a voyage affording but little variety to dispel ennui, he found himself in a foreign clime, where, to reconcile himself to his irremediable lot, he sought diversion in every shape; but, notwithstanding, an inward repining prevailed, to embitter the present, at best but a life of luxurious indolence, causing him to sigh for home, for the deprivation of which and his accustomed pleasures nothing could compensate; the dazzling charms of European women, the loss of those circles where wit and fashion reigned, and where his jocund hilarity contributed to delight, as also to inspire the same feeling in others.
Thus he was assiduous to dissipate time; which, as it still stole away, far from reconciling him, contributed only to excite his further aversion from that enervating soil, upon which his untoward destiny had thrown him. Daily more discontented, he resolved at length to quit a species of banishment so uncongenial to him, and applied for leave of absence, which he obtained, though only for the limited space of eighteen months: nevertheless he gladly availed himself of it, hoping some fortunate occurrence might intervene in that short period to prevent the necessity of returning. He accordingly, after an absence of five years, repaired to England, resorted to the Capital, renewed his intimacy with ​former companions, and entered a second time upon those wild irregularities, for which his temporary privations had but given him a keener zest.
Making with some friends an excursion to Bath, he there accidentally became introduced to General De Brooke and his amiable family. Deeply smitten with his youngest daughter, and yielding himself a willing victim to his passion, in order to have frequent occasions of seeing and conversing with the object who thus enslaved him, he fixed his abode in the neighbourhood; existence seeming tolerable only in proportion as the means were granted him for indulging in the presence of her whose image perpetually haunted him. Her radiant beauty wore to him an additional charm, heightened as it was by an association of mental graces he could not distinctly define, but which seemed in their effect matchless.
The general life of Douglas, his gay and unconcerned manners, led some to imagine he was unused to reflection; but such casual observers were mistaken. Possessing by nature a masculine energy, he was formed to think, and enter into the utmost refinements of intellect; his mind, improperly directed, had pursued a different bias; but he had never, even in his most jovial hours, thought lightly of virtue; the contemplation of it awed him, ​such indeed as it was painted in romance; in real life, where was the unsullied ray to be met with? Not in his own sex; and with Hamlet, he had been often inclined to exclaim, "Frailty, thy name is Woman!" That he had at last discovered one of a pure and simple innocence he had felt conscious during his last evening's promenade at the villa of Mount Zephyr; and as he rode gently home, sentiments new and powerful soothed whilst they repressed his transports. "What a lovely girl!" he breathed in secret; "what a heavenly meekness is blended with the eloquent expression of her countenance! to win her affections, to call her mine, what a bliss!"
A sense of unworthiness slightly intruded to check, for a moment only, his presumption; gay and sanguine hope, with all its exhilarating train of images, quickly crowded upon his fancy. Life with him seemed one boundless theatre of delight, and to enjoy was his unvaried maxim. Under the dominion of such false persuasions he passed the night, and when the morning dawned, the result of his meditations determined him not to protract the avowal of his sentiments. To declare them openly, indeed, was very far from his intentions; his deficiency of fortune, though his vanity led him to believe it might not sway Rosilia, yet he ​had knowledge of the world enough to be aware, might very differently influence her parents; and dreading nothing so much as a formal rejection by them, he resolved to make Rosilia alone the arbiter of his fate.
The greater part of his leave of absence had already expired; in a few short months the order would be received obliging him to rejoin his regiment: but not as the first did he picture to himself his second voyage; dreams of delight flashed over his elated fancy; Rosilia, his lovely bride, his enchanting companion, to soothe her timid fears when the vessel tossed upon the watery abyss, to feel sensible of her having sacrificed for him every other affection, and relinquished her native land to place upon himself her sole dependence, and look to him alone for protection. Thus was he engaged in tracing the happy future, when his servant entering put a note into his hand, which upon reading he found to contain an invitation from Sir Charles and Lady Valpée to a rural fête they purposed giving at their country seat, in order to celebrate the coming of age of their only son, Frederic. There cannot be a doubt, thought he, that the De Brookes will be there; the intimacy of the families renders it certain: a glow of rapture flushed his cheek, when, seizing his pen, he expressed compliance ​with the obliging favour. Nothing could have happened more propitious; fate seemed to favour his wishes. Warmed by the vehemence of his feelings, and counting every moment lost when not forwarding his views, he ordered his horse, that he might instantly ride to the Villa and hear from the De Brookes themselves their intention of gracing the birth-day with their presence.
Ushered into the room where Mrs.De Brooke and her daughters were employed in their morning avocations, he placed himself in a seat adjoining the work table, opposite to Rosilia, who, as he drew near, felt fearful lest her bashful emotion might be evident; but fortunately a remark from Mrs. De Brooke calling her attention, left her time to recover: but when he again addressed her she was still confused; she fancied that his manners wanted more of softness, more of respect; she liked not to be made conspicuous; and his attentions were so obvious, his regards so impassioned, his air so confident, no one ever excited more her natural timidity; but while she wished to fly his presence a consciousness of pleasure induced her stay. This embarrassment, so painful to herself yet so interesting to her admirer, was relieved by the entrance of her father, who cordially shook Douglas by the hand as he approached to meet him. Among the many ​visitors who frequented the Villa, none was held in higher estimation by the General than Douglas; his cheerful ease and pleasantry, the intelligence which animated his remarks, his knowledge of the worlds dispelled that inclination to seriousness which the General had gradually imbibed from the daily contemplation of his misfortunes. The discourse turned upon politics; but to Douglas, though he entered into the discussion with appropriate argument, and gave his opinions freely, the subject was at that moment the most indifferent, Rosilia and the birth-day gala claiming the first place in his thoughts. Every moment he was on the point of abruptly breaking off the conversation; and when the first pause ensued he expressed to Rosilia his hopes of seeing her at Sir Charles and Lady Valpée's fête on the following Thursday.
"We have received an invitation," she replied, "but have declined accepting it."
The eyes of Douglas, before brilliant and penetrating, instantly betrayed disappointment and regret. "Declined?", said he, in accents of impatience; "do you really intend not going?"
Upon Rosilia confirming what she had before said, endeavouring to conceal his chagrin, he added reproachfully, "You must indeed have much forbearance to refuse a festivity so novel, and which ​I doubt not will be attended with great splendour on such an occasion as this, in honour of the son and heir coming of age."
Having recovered the usual placidity of her demeanour, Rosilia spoke to him with a gentle confidence; and, as natural to youth, she much lamented the pleasure denied her. With looks of eloquent simplicity she could not help expressing her mortification, and that to one who seemed so well disposed to sympathize in her feelings; and upon his again urging her to tell him the cause which militated against her going, with artless hesitation she replied, it did not meet the approbation of her parents. Upon which Douglas, turning to Mrs. De Brooke, pressed her in terms of the warmest solicitude to change her resolution; but finding that every persuasion failed, and that the General was alike inexorable, he felt the necessity of desisting, when the door opened, and, to his inexpressible delight, the charming Lady Valpée herself was announced. She advanced with a gracious air, and with that benevolence which ever beamed on her open countenance, she took each extended hand of the lovely sisters, at the same time saying, "My dear girls, why, how is this? I can admit of no excuse, I can't indeed; Mrs. De Brooke, General, it is my intention to run ​away with your sweet treasures on Thursday, unless you promise me to revoke your note of this mornings and come with them to my rural fête. I shall indeed be most happy to see you."
"Let me assure your ladyship,” returned the General, "how much I feel myself flattered by your civility; that it still remains out of my power to accept it, for my family or myself, imposes upon me as well as upon them a great mortification."
"Well," resumed her ladyship, "I am very unfortunate in being prevented the gratification of seeing you, but surely you will make some amends to me by granting me the indulgence of your daughters' company? I shall be very proud of them, and take great care of my charges."
Mrs. De Brooke smiled, but shook her head; she was going to speak, when Lady Valpée interrupted her by saying, "Dear Mrs. De Brooke, you must not refuse me; I shall have a spare room quite at their service, and I should wish them to prolong then stay with me for a few days."
The General, who forcibly felt the kindness of this request, replied, "It is impossible, my dear Lady Valpée, to resist an offer so extremely obliging, one promising so much happiness to my girls, and which I already see anticipated in their sparkling looks; they are charmed by your ​ladyship's goodness towards them, and will consider themselves engaged to you for that day."
With all the warmth of their ages, the sisters then expressed their thanks for the very kind attention of Lady Valpée, who replied, "It is I, my dear girls, who am the obliged party; I shall expect you very early on Thursday morning, and the sooner you come the more agreeable." This point, so interesting to Douglas, and certainly not less so to the sisters, being now decided, the conversation took a general turn, and soon after Lady Valpée, rising to depart, was conducted by the happy Douglas to her carriage.
No one in the neighbourhood had as yet received the slightest intimation relative to the deranged state of affairs then existing at the Villa, or that it was the intention of the General so soon to remove; he therefore felt happy that his daughters, in compliance with the solicitations of Lady Valpée, were to attend the birthday of her son; though for his own part he felt that silence and solitude were best adapted to his present situation. Mrs. De Brooke, more alive to the future peace and welfare of her children than desirous of indulging them in present pleasure, felt a dread lest, in the ardour of their juvenile minds, they should imbibe a fondness for diversions, which to Rosilia had been ​hitherto entirely prohibited, and but rarely allowed to her sister, and such as they could never hope to partake of, doomed as they appeared to be, to the sameness of sequestered life. These considerations, however weighty in the first instance, soon became absorbed in the idea, that girls so eminently lovely as were hers, could not fail of attracting admiration; and her fancy yielding by degrees to the impression of the moment, she painted lovers, such as might transplant the fair blossoms of her culture from the dreary wilds of seclusion to soils more congenial to their sweetness and delicacy.
The agreeable company of Lady Valpée having cheered the General, he felt a wish to retain the good humour she had awakened; and what could be more conducive thereto than the society of Douglas? he requested of him, therefore, to spend the day at the Villa. The invitation, so gratifying to its object, was readily complied with; it would prolong to him moments that were precious, those fleeting intervals when occasion presented of insinuating to her he loved the deep regard with which she had inspired him, hoping thereby to effect an ascendancy over the softness of her heart. But Rosilia, as thoughtless of love as she was of beauty, notwithstanding love and beauty with every ​sweet attraction breathed around her, investing with seraphic charms her person, annexed no other idea of the seeming partiality of Douglas, than the supposition that it proceeded from habits of gallantry, acquired by an intercourse with fashionable life; a species of adulation, which from her mother's early instructions she had been taught to expect, as a current coin from the one sex to the other, insignificant in itself, and practised for the mere amusement of the moment. Though thus unsuccessful in gaining upon her confidence, Douglas nevertheless was not deficient in occupying and pleasing her fancy. Ah! why was there such an intermixture in him of impetuous feeling with tenderness of sentiment; why did she at one time turn aside, intimidated by his gaze, and at another lend a delighted ear to the masculine energy and grace of his language? His was a mind of extremes, rarely sustaining an equilibrium; good and evil swayed him alternately. He spoke in a sort of ecstasy upon the charms of the female sex, upon the endearments of married life; and whilst his eyes were directed with eloquent softness towards Rosilia, he drew such an interesting and glowing picture of the felicity, the bliss he should taste in domestic scenes, could he but share them with one he loved, that his remarks became too pointed to ​escape the penetration of the General or Mrs. De Brooke, and determined the former to lose no time in making inquiries into the character of one whom he had allowed with such unrestrained freedom to visit at his house. The ingenuous air of Douglas, his polite address, had hitherto spoken as passports in his favour, and the candid warmth with which he had then partly betrayed his sentiments could not be interpreted otherwise than to his advantage. His air of nobility, his general deportment, had indicated him by birth far superior to the adventitious and subordinate rank he held in the army; and under those embarassments so disastrous to his family, General De Brooke could feel no reasonable objection towards admitting his addresses. The happiness of his children was dear to his heart, and nothing could have given him a greater consolation in his afflictions than bestowing one or both of his daughters on objects deserving them.
In the course of conversation which followed these reflections of the General, Douglas, in speaking of his brother, Lord Deloraine, said that he expected to see him shortly in England, "which," added he, glancing his eye towards Rosilia, "I am heartily glad of, as I have nothing now to call me hence; and had my brother not been coming, he might have conceived a visit due from me to him ​in Scotland, He has desired me to seek for him a country residence in this neighbourhood; but with these beautiful scenes in view, my thoughts ever resting here, all other places lose so much by the comparison, that I have almost given up my search as fruitless."
Desirous of availing himself of so favourable an opening on what was of such moment to him as the disposal of his Villa, the General instantly replied, "My dear Douglas, if truly you are in search of a place for Lord Deloraine, you have my consent to offer him this."
"What! quit this charming spot? Are you indeed in earnest?" exclaimed Douglas. "Happy as I should be in procuring it for my brother, yet the sacrifice on your part—"
"It is necessary," interrupted the General; "affairs, important ones, call me hence."
"Then truly, you authorise me to address a letter to my brother on the subject?" said Douglas.
"Most willingly," answered the General, who, in rising as he spoke, shortly after retired from the apartment.
The evening had passed away, twilight was beginning to appear, ere Douglas was conscious of the many hours which had fled: to remain longer he feared might be intrusive; he rose to take his ​leave: "We shall meet on Thursday", said he to Rosilia, in tones that spoke more than the words.
"Oh, yes!" was her joyous and immediate answer; when, mistaking the meaning of her innocent pleasure, not supposing it sprung merely from the anticipated novelties of the fête, but enraptured by a manner so flattering and encouraging, he seized her hand, and pressed it with ardour. An impulse so sudden abashed the timid girl, whose countenance, overspread with confusion, recalled Douglas to a sense of his precipitancy: the soft pleadings of his look and utterance spoke volumes; and turning from her, he bowed gracefully to her mother and sister, and withdrew.
The impressions he left upon the youthful Rosilia being variable, were also fugitive; serenity, hitherto the predominating companion of her bosom, soon usurped its wonted sway; her slumbers were as light, as happy as her sisters; she arose with the dawn, careless of the future, enjoying the present, yielding to the charms of all around; she breathed with Oriana the freshness of the morning, and rambled with her over the shrubbery and while the healthful exercise invigorated her frame, it gave an additional lustre to her glowing beauty.