# Duty and Inclination/Chapter 63

CHAPTER XX.
In the society of those pleasing women, who failed not in their efforts to divert their guests, time would have passed most happily to Rosilia, but for one circumstance, which unfortunately threw a damp upon her cheerfulness.
While rambling one morning with her mother and friends around the Park and grounds, having accidentally met the nurse with her little favourite in her arms, and being desirous to remain awhile with their dear child, she loitered with her behind the party, who advanced considerably before her. The nurse, however, walking on with her charge, Rosilia, left alone, strolled leisurely forward, engaged in contemplating the charming scenes around her, when some one suddenly passed with a light and bounding step, whom her eye assured her was Melliphant. She could not be deceived,—the shape, the air, and gait were his.
Having advanced about a dozen yards, with the same quick motion as he had passed, he turned ​himself about. A wish to shun him, to avoid hearing the sound of his voice, supposing he would certainly accost her, caused her to avert from him her glance, and to slacken still more her pace; when, as if aware of her design, without taking apparent notice of her, he whistled to a small favourite dog of Mrs. Melbourne's that had been skipping before her, and attempted to allure the animal towards him, which answering to his call leaped instantly upon him.
Confused, perplexed, Rosilia conceived he was awaiting her approach, and that those accents she had hoped never more to hear would again meet her ear. He had stopped, however, and when she looked again he had disappeared behind an abrupt winding in the walk.
Turning immediately on the side leading to the mansion, in the fear of again seeing him, Rosilia quickened her steps, and reached the house shortly after the ladies accompanying her mother.
Perhaps no circumstance could have happened at that moment more unpropitious to Rosilia than the sight of Melliphant. He had flitted before her, like a dark phantom, disturbing her imagination, chasing from her bosom hopes inspired by the sweet and flattering expectation of a happier destiny than had hitherto been her lot. Alas! her evil genius hovering near, diffused a sombre hue over those scenes which had before breathed upon her sense so full of light, beauty, and loveliness!
As soon as Mrs. De Brooke had withdrawn to the ​private apartment assigned her, Rosilia, in much perturbation, joined her.
"Whom do you think I have seen, my dear mother," said she, "of all persons in the world I should have the least desired to have seen?—Mr. Melliphant!"
The distressed accents in which these words were spoken, caused her mother to suspend the arrangements she was making.
"My dear," replied she, turning hastily about, "you may be mistaken; I can hardly think you have seen Mr. Melliphant, but somebody, doubtless, who resembles him; your father, from good authority, having heard that, to shun the importunities of his creditors, he some time since fled from the kingdom."
"But the gait, air, and figure," returned Rosilia, "were so completely his, that I feel persuaded I could not be mistaken."
She then accurately described his manner of passing, and of noticing the dog that was with her.
"Extraordinary as it may seem," added Mrs. De Brooke, "I am still of opinion, by his not addressing you, that your sight deceived you."
Nearly doubting her faculty of vision, Rosilia began to hope it might be as her mother said.
"Besides," rejoined Mrs. De Brooke, "quiet your mind, my dear, on that score; for whether it was Melliphant or not, detected as his views and character recently have been, you have nothing more to apprehend from him, or his further persecution of you."
​ Admitting the justice of these consolatory reasonings, Rosilia descended to the dining-room, where her kind friends had already assembled.
In the course of the evening, with the view of promoting the amusement of her guests, Mrs. Boville led them into an apartment they had not yet seen, and which she styled her favourite chamber, where when alone she usually spent the greater part of her time. It was neatly furnished, being wholly void of any article of gaudy or costly value, with the exception of an inlaid cabinet of ivory and ebony, and some portraits on the walls.
The first of these that Mrs. Boville pointed to the notice of Mrs. De Brooke, was that of her deceased husband, General Boville. The countenance bore a benignant and gracious expression. "Do you not trace some resemblance there," inquired Mrs. Boville, "to one to whom I have the honour of being stepmother?"
"Yes, truly," replied Mrs. De Brooke, "the resemblance to Dr. Lovesworth is striking."
"General Boville was his father," added she.
"Can he be the same Boville whose name, merits, and qualities have been so often repeated and extolled to me during my early years?" asked Mrs. De Brooke.
"The Boville who married my father's sister, but whose decease left him an early widower."
A crowd of ideas flashed upon the memory of Mrs. De Brooke, which received confirmation when, in ​passing her eye to the portrait beyond, she beheld traits never to be forgotten,—those indelibly imprinted on her filial memory.
"My mother!" she exclaimed; "surely that portrait was designed for my mother!" and she would have sunk to the earth but for the timely support of Mrs. Boville.
The painting which caused her so sudden an emotion was indeed a finished resemblance of her much-loved mother, the loss of whom had been so recent, and whom she was so deeply bewailing, at the time De Brooke made his appearance at her father's parsonage, introduced by letters from an aged officer to the much-esteemed Vicar of Whitby. That aged officer, General Boville, being no other than the brother of her mother, and her uncle; he was also the late husband of Mrs. Boville, who became his second wife shortly after the period that De Brooke left Portugal on his return to England; Mrs. Boville and the General, therefore, were entire strangers to each other.
"Your mother!" exclaimed Mrs. Boville in her turn; "can it be possible that the sister of my late husband bore to you such near relationship?"—throwing her arms round Mrs. De Brooke, who, chasing the tears she had dropped to the memory of her parent, flew to meet the embrace of Mrs. Boville, who, from the kindness of her disposition, felt nearly equal warmth and delight, as if the ties of blood, and not those of marriage merely, in reality entitled her ​to use the appellation of niece. "How rejoiced I am" continued she, "to find in Mrs. De Brooke one so closely connected with my respected and ever-to-be-regretted Boville; and that it is now, though late, permitted me to claim relationship with her and her lovely daughters; the eldest of whom it is still reserved for me to see,—the youngest," rising from her seat as she spoke, "having already my friendship,—sweet, charming, and amiable as she is,—the grand-niece of my Boville!"
Rosilia flew towards her, and cordially returned the warm salutation she received,
"My excellent husband the General," said his widow, addressing Mrs. De Brooke, "entertained for your father a species of veneration as the earliest friend of his youth; and that the regard was mutual, the interchange of marriage in their respective families abundantly proves; it being also, it appears, a younger sister of your father's who was the first wife of Boville, of which union our esteemed Lovesworth is the issue."
This interesting explanation of family connections given by Mrs. Boville occasioned an éclaircissement exceedingly gratifying to Mrs. De Brooke and Rosilia. Doctor Lovesworth, for whom they had mutually, with the whole of their family, felt so great a partiality, was found to be the cousin-german of Mrs. De Brooke.
"With what happiness," exclaimed she, "shall I advance to take the Doctor by the hand when next I ​see him, and greet him by the appellation of cousin! The son of my proper aunt, and myself the daughter of his aunt, are we not doubly linked in the ties of consanguinity? What a singular and pleasing discovery!"
Deeply absorbed in the delight such contemplations opened to her, Rosilia entirely forgot the uneasiness caused by the sudden and unexpected sight of Melliphant (or one who so much resembled him) amongst the groves in which she had been rambling. "'Tis truly a happy day," thought she.
"And what will the dear General say," exclaimed Mrs. Boville, "when he returns and finds us all united in an agreeable family party? I shall enjoy with all my soul his surprise."
"And the dear good Lovesworth, now my cousin," rejoined Mrs. De Brooke, "how charming,—how delightful,—to claim kindred with him, and to hear him express his feelings,—his satisfaction, at the discovery! But pray, Mrs. Boville, or my dear aunt, I should now say, how came it that my cousin bears the name of Lovesworth, instead of his father's? This change of name has been the cause of my being so long kept in ignorance of our mutual connection."
"The circumstance has arisen from Boville having had two sisters, one of whom, it appears, married your father, the other Dean Lovesworth, who, independently of his high church preferment, possessed considerable property: being an excellent and pious ​ecclesiastic, and having no issue, he conceived a great partiality for the young Boville, his wife's nephew, who was frequently with him, and finding that he possessed abilities and uncommon piety for his years, he took a delight in opening his young mind early to the study of Divinity, which so much increased his liking for him, that he was led, finally, to adopt him for his heir, and to request him to assume his name.
"The death of the worthy Dean," continued Mrs. Boville, "was shortly after succeeded by that of his widow, which is the cause that Lovesworth is so amply endowed; and perhaps wealth thus accumulated from both father and uncle never descended to one so fully desirous and competent of making an honourable and charitable use of it; accounting himself an instrument in the hands of Providence, he is the poor man's friend, distributing blessings wherever he goes. I am quite proud, I assure you, notwithstanding our ages are not far distant, of calling him son, now that I have the happiness of knowing him personally, and have been eye-witness of his virtues. Having quitted Portugal on the decease of his father, I was solicitous to fix my retreat in this part of the United Kingdom, for the purpose of being within the vicinity of my step-son's charming retreat.
"It is about a year," she added, "since he indicated to me the possibility of my obtaining this place. From his recommendation, I accompanied him ​to the spot, which I found suited me so well, as to leave me no other consideration than the necessary arrangements to be made previous to entering; upon which Lovesworth told me the bargain was already struck, that the place was mine, and that all I had to do was to take possession. I was enchanted by the unexpected pleasure he had prepared for me: and so greatly had he attended to all that might in the least interest or gratify me, that, in conducting me over the grounds, he brought me to a spot, though distant and without the precincts, hedged in as if apparently forming a part of them. Nothing could be more retired, more isolated, more wholly obscured than that small recess; a sort of solemn feeling took possession of me upon perceiving we approached a cenotaph, bearing on the top an urn; an irresistible impulse led me to inspect the inscription; I bent over it, and found, to my surprise, it had been erected to the memory of my husband, by his son, the filial and affectionate Lovesworth. Such an act, you may conceive, had its due weight upon my feelings; but, alas! though it reminded me of the loss I had sustained, and caused my tears to reflow, the remains of my departed husband were not there,—they were left upon a foreign shore. Nevertheless, I was not the less sensible of this testimony of respect to his father, and attention to myself. It has tended also to render the spot invaluable and dear to me beyond measure,
"The place where the monument is erected ​contains a vault, marked by a mouldering tomb, in which are interred the remains of some ancient descendants, inhabiting probably this house ere it underwent modern repair,—and which gives to the spot, overgrown with brushwood and brambles, and planted with cypress, a sort of melancholy desolation, calculated to impress the weak-minded with terror. Superstitious as are the whole of my humble dependants, they positively assert the place is haunted, and that even at noonday they have been at times alarmed by the unnatural appearance and disappearance of one, in a dark garb, who flits here and there, without ever letting the sound of his voice be heard in accosting any one."
Mrs. De Brooke exchanged looks with her daughter, who immediately recollected how strangely the object, which struck her as being Mr. Melliphant, vanished from her sight. Since it was not unusual for the domestics to see a similar appearance, she now began to adopt more implicitly her mother's opinion, and to feel persuaded the object she had seen might be some solitary stranger, residing near, who felt himself often tempted to wander amidst the beautiful avenues; in which idea she became still more confirmed when, in reply to her mother's question relative to the inhabitants of the neighbourhood, Mrs. Boville answered, "that the seat of Sir Arthur Melliphant was the one nearest in situation to her own, but she had not made acquaintance with him, the family having been always absent ​from the country since she had taken up her abode in it."
"In her ladyship," added Mrs. Boville, "I promise myself a desirable neighbour; but as to the male part of the family, report does not speak highly in their favour."
In similar discourse time passed, until the hour of rest called them to retire. Each separated with many cordial attestations of friendship, and in the anticipation of renewing their pleasing conversation the following morning.