# Montalbert/Chapter 13

ROSALIE now saw the beloved parent, whom she yet dared not own, every day; and the discovery of her marrige with Montalbert, which she had so much dreaded, had been the means of procuring her the knoweldge of the blessing she possessed in a mother, who now secretly indulged all the tenderness of her heart. The eldest Miss Vyvian, now Mrs. Bosworth, was still at the family seat of her husband with her sister, and her father was gone into the north during the recess of parliament; no impediment, therefore, existed at present against Roslaie's passing almost all her time with Mrs. Vyvian, and so happy did this indulgence make her, that, had Montalbert been in England, she would hardly have had a wish left ungratified.
It was now indeed that such a friend was more necessary to her than ever, and it was more requisite that this dear friend should know she was a wife, since she found it was probable she should become a mother. Nothing was more immediately pressing than that Montalbert should be informed of this; but without the concurrence of Mrs. Vyvian, and indeed without her assistance, she dared not hazard a letter, which, if it fell into the hands of his mother, might be the most fatal consequence. The two letters she had received from Montalbert were but too expressive of his despondence and uneasiness; and though he seemed to stifle part of the anguish of his heart from tenderness toward his wife, she saw that the reception his mother had given him was far from having been pleasant, and that, while he yet acknowledged the necessity of his journey, he regretted that he had made it.
But Mrs. Vyvian, who had received letters from her son, knew yet more: she had learned that one reason for the impatience, expressed by the mother of Montalbert for his return to Naples, was, that she had projected a marriage for him with the daughter of a friend of her own, who had lately lost her husband, a Roman of high rank, and was now a very rich widow. Charles Vyvian related all the advantages offered by such an alliance: on the beauty of the young widow, and her predilection in favour of Montalbert, with whom she had been acquainted before her first marriage, he dwelt particularly; but added, laughingly, that he supposed Harry had left his heart in England, for at present he seemed as insensible to the charms of the lady, as deaf to the remonstrances of his mother.
Mrs. Vyvian was extremely distressed by this intelligence, which she carefully avoided communicating. Though she loved Montalbert extremely, she had many doubts whether in affairs of love he had more honour than other gay young men. She had reason formerly to believe his principles were very free, and she could not but fear, that he might consider his marriage with Rosalie, celebrated as it had been contrary to the laws of England, as an engagement so little binding, that he might break it whenever ambition or the love of variety might induce him to it.
The situation, therefore, of this beloved child, more dear than ever to her, was a dreadful weight on the spirits of Mrs. Vyvian; and she now felt renewed, in the person of Rosalie, all those cruel sensations which had corroded her own heart, when, betrayed by an unhappy passion into great and dangerous imprudence, she was compelled to undergo all the meanness of concealment, and all the terrors of detection. The similarity of their destinies hitherto endeared to her mother this lovely unfortunate young woman, who seemed too likely to be doubly a victim; yet, circumstanced as she was herself, she could not protect her openly, and even trembled every time she reflected that, with the return of the family of her husband, the indulgence of ever seeing Rosalie must be resigned; and that they must equally stifle their fears and their affections.
Every day rendered the situation of Rosalie more critical. Though Mrs. Lessington seemed, as if by a tacit agreement with Mrs. Vyvian, not to notice the preference Rosalie so evidently gave to the latter, and to suffer her to act as she pleased, others, who still supposed her a member of the Lessington family, could not be but surprised at her associating so little with them, nor help remarking, that whenever they did see her among them, there was something peculiar in her manner and appearance. The men, who had admired her beauty, but who had been repulsed at her coldness, now discovered, as they always do on such occasions, that the poor girl was in love; and while the elder ladies thought her proud, conceited, and full of airs, some of the younger entirely agreed with them, while others, more candid or more sensible, pitied her on the supposition that she had an "unhappy attachment;" or, as the damsels of lower rank would have expressed it, "that she was crossed in love."
Mrs. Vyvian was too deeply interested to have a moment's tranquility; and when the hour of Mrs. Bosworth's return approached, this anxiety became more and more insupportable: and it was certain that health so delicate could not long resist such painful solicitude.
After long deliberation and consulting with the Abbé Hayward, who had long been aware of who Roslaie really was, Mrs. Vyvian determined to write to Montalbert with the same precautions as those Rosalie used by his directions. This she executed, not without finding it the most difficlut and painful task she had ever undertaken. To avow the dissimulation of her whole life to her nephew, to explain to him circumstances of which she knew he must be entirely ignorant, words were not easily found. At length, however, the letter was written and sent off, and she returned once more to her long and pensive conferences with the object of it, with whom also a task yet remained quite as distressing to her.
This was to tell Rosalie to whom she owed her birth; to give a relation of circumstances which she knew must appear very strange to her. Mrs. Vyvian saw her often look as if she at once dreaded and expected this explanation; but never yet had she acquired courage to begin the conversation, and Rosalie was too timid to make any inquiries that led to it.
But Mrs. Bosworth and Miss Vyvian would now return in a short time, and then the mother and daughter must no longer indulge themselves with being together for whole days as they were now—a heavy presentment of future evil, to which the former was too apt to yeild, told her, that if the present time was lost, future opportunities might be wanting.—The next morning, therefore, after having made her resolution, she put it into execution.
Rosalie, whom she had desired to come early, was seated at work by her bedside, for she was too much indisposed to leave it; when Mrs. Vyvian, opening a little casket which she had previously placed near her pillow, put into the hands of Rosalie a miniature picture, and, in a trembling voice, said, "It is the likeness of—your father!"——It represented a man of two or three years and twenty: the countenance expressed understanding and vivacity of sentiment, and the whole figure was remarkably handsome. Rosalie gazed on it in silence, and with sensations that cannot be described. "Do you see no resemblance, my Rosalie, (said Mrs. Vyvian), to a face you know?—Ah! do you not trace in these features the likeness you bear to - - - - - - - - - -?—Believe me, my child, (continued she, unable to restrain her tears), this morning is the first time for many years that I have allowed myself to look at that picture, and now I resign it for ever—take it, my dear girl, and may you not resemble him in fortune as in features."
"Does my father yet live, Madam?" Rosalie would have said, but she could not articulate the sentence: her mother, however, understood her. "He does, (replied she), but not in England—I shall never see him more—nor am I guilty or wretched enough to wish it.—Never have these eyes beheld him since that fatal hour when I was compelled to give to another the hand which was his in the sight of God; but, though my hand was not at my own disposal, never has it acknowledged any sovereign but him to whom my fist vows were given: yet I very sincerely tried, when under the cruel necessity of giving myself to Mr. Vyvian, to fulfill the duties that were imposed upon me. He knew that I was compelled to marry him—he was indelicate and selfish enough to consider only the convenience of my fortune, and a person, which was then an object to a man, licentious and dissolute as he was: yet I think he never has had any just reason to complain of my counduct since I have borne the name of his wife. He knew I neither did nor ever could love him—for I told him so when I married him. He was contented to possess my fortune and my person—my heart he never thought worth the experiment that some men would have made to have gained it." A deep sigh and a long pause, which Rosalie did not interrupt, now followed.——
In a few moments Mrs. Vyvian seemed to have regained her resolution, and thus proceeded——"You should have an idea of what sort of a man, my father, Mr. Montalbert, was, before you can imagine how I was situated. I do not believe you know more than his name; for Mrs. Lessington was probably cautious of entering into any part of my unfortunate history.——Mr. Montalbert then, my father, was the elder brother of a family, which, from its name, was evidently of Norman extraction—a boast that is generally deemed a sufficient ground for the pride of ancestry in England. The Montalberts, however, could carry their genealogy much farther, and were content to begin it only among the Emperors of the East. As English Peers, they adhered to the unfortunate James the Second, were banished with him, and lost their property, their title, and their rights as British subjects. My father, being much connected with nobel families more fortunate, had interest enough to obtain restitution of a small part indeed of the great fortune of his family, but sifficient to give once more a footing in England, where he was happy enough to marry one of its richest heiresses. My mother, who was the only offspring of an alliance between two noble houses, inherited all their possessions, and gave them and herself to my father, in despite of the opposition of such of her family as pretended to any right of giving their opinion; for her father and mother being dead, there were only uncles or cousins whose dissent could not prevent her following her own inclinations.
"This great property was divided between me and my brother, the father of Montalbert, your husband, but not equally; for he had of course the greatest share. The nobel castle and the estates, belonging to it in the north, are the pincipal part of what remains to him in England; for having early formed connections upon the continent, he never loved or lived long in England: his life was not long, for he died soon after the birth of your husband; so soon, indeed, that he had neglected to make for him the provision he ought to have made, and, by a prior will, Harry Montalbert was left almost entirely dependent on his mother.
"In consequence of the long absences, and afterwards of the early death of my brother, I came to be considered by my father as an only child. Dissatisfied with a world, which he had, from personal infirmities, no longer the power of enjoying, he retired to Holmwood when I was about fifteen, and, from that time, you may imagine my life was very recluse, for then the country around it was less inhabited, and the roads less passable than they are now.
"Harsh as my father was, I loved him very tenderly, and therefore did not murmur at the confinement thus imposed upon me at a time of life when other young women enter the world and enjoy its pleasures: nor did the fatigues of constant attendance in a sick chamber, and continuing to read sometimes for half the night, for a moment deter me from doing my duty, or for a moment induce me to repine.
"I have since thought, Rosalie, that this period, with all its little hardships and inconveniences, was the happiest of my life.—My friend Mrs. Lessington, though then married, and some years older than me, was still often my companion, and shared a task which without her I could not have executed so well. Whenever I was released from the chamber of my suffering parent, I saw around me scenes of nature, which seemed to put on new beauties as if to reward me for my perseverance in painful duties; and if I tasted not the pleasures which are accounted happiness by very young women, I was at least content. Thus, without much variation, passed more than three years of my life.
"My father had a relation in Ireland, whose ancestors having suffered in the same cause as that in which the Montalberts had lost their property, had not been so fortunate in re-establishing their affairs; but their descendant was, with a numerous family, obliged to live on a very small estate, and in great obscurity in the north of Ireland.
"One of the sons, however, having been sent young to the East Indies, had done so well, that he wrote to have two of his three brothers follow him, informing his father, that though he could not make remittances for the purpose of fitting them out, he was sure when they arrived there of getting them into situations nearly as advantageous as his own.
"In consequence of this, their father sent his third and fourth sons to England, to solicit among their friends and their relations the means of equipping them in such a way as might enable them to avail themselves of these advantageous prospects. The eldest of the two soon found sufficient assistance in London, and departed; but the younger having been seized with a violent fit of illness in London, was under the necessity of seeing the last ship of the season sail without him, and at the invitation of my father, who had taken most of the expence of his equipment upon himself, he came down to Holmwood to recover his health, while he waited for an opportunity of following his brother, which was not likely to offer for some months.
"Ormsby was about one and twenty when he was thus received into the house of my father, who soon learned to consider him as a son; becoming so attached to him, that he was not easy in his absence.
"Even at this distance of time, I reflect with wonder on the carelessness with which my father suffered two very young people to be continually together, without appearing to think of the probability there was that they might form an attachment to each other. It is true that I have myself discovered inattention of the same sort in regard to you and Montalbert; but besides the prepossession of your predilection in favour of Vyvian, with which my mind was distracted, the character of Montalbert was so different from that of Ormsby, that it never occurred to me that there was equal hazard in your being continually in his company."——
Mrs. Vyvian now seemed to be much fatigued, and to be so little able to continue a narrative so affecting to her spirits, that Rosalie entreated her to forbear concluding it till she was less likely to suffer by dwelling on scenes which it gave her so much pain to recall; but the probability that their long and private conferences might be less frequent when they were continually liable to be broken in upon by Mrs. Bosworth and her sister, and the necessity there was that Rosalie should know the circumstances of her birth, and what were Mrs. Vyvian's wishes as to her future conduct, determined her, to exert herself to the utmost of her power, to conclude all she had to relate—the singular circumstances of her former life.
CHAP.