# Duty and Inclination/Chapter 67

CHAPTER XXIV.
"How high the bliss that waits on wedded love,
Best, purest emblem of the bliss above!
To draw new raptures from another's joy;
To share each grief, and half its stings destroy;
Of one fond heart to be the slave and lord;
Bless and be bless'd, adore and be adored:
To own the link of soul, the chain of mind,
Sublimest friendship, passion most refined,— Passion to life's last evening hour still warm.
And friendship brightest in the darkest storm!"
Prize Poem.
From the late circumstances befalling Douglas, it might seem indeed as if fortune, notwithstanding the many rude calamities he had met with, still regarded him as her favoured child;—to be brought back to Wales at a moment of such extreme necessity to the timely succour of the distressed Rosilia, his mind ever full of her, engaging as she did every thought and faculty of his soul; to be led to the spot to act in her defence when her situation had become so perilous; and after so long an absence from his native country, to return to it at so critical a juncture, to receive the last parting blessing of his brother, his nearest surviving relative.
Though always of a feeble constitution, Lord ​Deloraine had lingered out existence to its last thread; till at length, being made sensible of his near dissolution, he expressed a strong desire once again to behold Douglas; in whose arms he breathed his last!—an event which, however melancholy, had not been altogether unexpected by Douglas, he having paired to Scotland upon the intelligence of his brother's illness sooner than he had otherwise intended. In right of succession the family estate and title devolving upon him, he became in consequence Lord Deloraine; but this new dignity was not likely to produce an alteration in the heart and mind of one whose genuine worth and true nobility of soul had acquired such strength and consistency, superior to exaltation derived from any worldly cause whatever.
Not desiring to prolong his stay and absence from his friends in Wales beyond what was incumbent upon him with regard to a due observance of the necessary arrangements consequent on the death of his brother, he departed from Scotland with the inten tion at some later period of returning to it, and of probably making it the chief place of his future residence. Passing through London he chanced, as has been said, to fall in with Harcourt, whose salutations were most particularly warm, rejoiced to meet a friend to whom he was so signally indebted, and also to avail himself of the occasion of prosecuting his journey into Glamorganshire.
Perfectly aware of Harcourt's motives in going thither, Douglas spoke but little, absorbed in silent ​reverie upon that fate which seemed ever, as concerning Rosilia, to oppose his passion and to separate him from her. Scarcely had the only true attachment of which he had ever felt susceptible, and which if subdued for a time had never become extinguished, rekindled in his soul its pure and holy fires, than it was again to meet with repression. Dread, anxiety, and uncertainty infused their bitterness within him. Rigidly adhering to the highest principles of social duty, Rosilia herself must decide the point, thought he: but in thus reflecting he trembled under the possibility of Harcourt meeting her acceptance; having made up his mind not to proffer his own claims unless his friend met with a denial.
Harcourt had been well acquainted abroad with Mrs. Melbourne, in whose estimation he held some share; and Douglas had assured him of a cordial and hospitable reception from her sister Mrs. Boville. The long-tried patience of Douglas, his perseverance, and his noble self-denial and extreme delicacy in having given the priority to Harcourt in his claims on her to whom he had been formerly and still was so devotedly attached, were crowned at last with reward in being providentially the instrument of her preservation from tyranny, cruelty, and oppression. And amidst the horror and torturing anxiety of seeing her reduced to such a situation, how precious also had been to him those moments, like sweet balsam to his wounded feelings, when he awoke to the delicious ecstasy, the full and perfect consciousness of ​being beloved,—her sorrow, sighs, and tears, in clinging to him for protection, revealing a language impossible to be mistaken!
In joining the party assembled in the breakfast-room, not perceiving the object his eyes were in search of, he found, on inquiring, that she was prevented that morning from leaving her chamber through indisposition. A thousand ideas concerning her personal safety might have troubled him, had he not been tranquillized by the observations he gathered of the natural excellence of her constitution, rendering the symptoms of cold by which she was attacked but of little importance.
Greeting him under his newly inherited title of Lord Deloraine, the ladies Boville and Melbourne asked after his friend Colonel Harcourt, for whose sudden departure he was under the necessity of making some plausible excuse.
Mrs. De Brooke felt almost persuaded that Colonel Harcourt was the same whose card had been delivered to her as Mr. Harcourt when in pursuit of Rosilia, and who had so indefatigably kept his post about the house of Mrs. Herbert. How truly mysterious seemed his conduct, no less at the present moment than formerly, appearing and disappearing in a manner so sudden! might it be on their families' account? She awaited to make her surmises known to the General.
"My dear," exclaimed he, with looks and gestures expressive of the highest gratification, "I know it, ​I know all you would say, and more; it is not I from you, but you from me, who may look for information. The interview I have just had with Lord Deloraine has filled me with content, joy, and happiness. He has been ever the warm admirer of our child Rosilia, of which he has made me the most open acknowledgement; he is in a word, her warm and loving suitor, and will shortly become, by the good pleasure of the Supreme, her warm and loving husband."
In the fulness of their delight each happy parent embraced the other, and the General added, "You see, my dear, in such charming prospects opening upon us, in the happiness of one of our children, and in the liberality of poor Robert, the possibility of promoting that of the other, not to mention the enlargement of our own comforts, that if our union began in tears it is likely to end in smiles. Your dear respectable aunt Boville and her sister Mrs. Melbourne are about being informed, by our son-in-law who is to be, of his long-existing sentiments for our child,—and they will be, doubtless, quite enchanted with the idea of the wedding which will in consequence shortly take place. You can yourself apprise Oriana of it, but caution her not to intimate any of this new intelligence to her sister, whose mind must be kept calm, and at the present free from such topics,—as when well enough to appear amongst us. Lord Deloraine himself will make to her the disclosure of his hopes and wishes, and that in a manner ​the best suited to a mind so delicately refined as hers."
The General having thus amplified upon the subject with something of the garrulity of advancing age and the communicative frankness of his character, we shall only add that Lord Deloraine became the successful and acknowledged suitor of the fair Rosiha. "Take her," said the General, "she is yours; and if I mistake not, her pure and virgin affections have been ever yours."
Sensible of a gladness of soul, of a joy of heart long a stranger to him, powerful emotions ran through the frame of His Lordship in raising the hand he held, and in pressing it upon his lips. From henceforth passing his days continually in the presence of his destined bride, how truly she was impressed upon his fancy, how much and how wholly his mind and heart were occupied with and directed towards her, was manifest in every affectionate glance, in every expression of his countenance: every polished, easy, and graceful gesture was alike correspondent to his internal harmony; his every softened accent seemed to say, Rosilia, how I love thee! And such were not the mere outward semblances of passion; they were the pleasing, the beautiful effects of true and genuine love,—of feelings arising from a grateful sense of happiness conferred, in finding himself beloved by her, from whom he once conceived his early irregularities had separated him for ever!
As a stream, clear and bright, becomes foul with ​weeds, and stagnates by its distant meanderings from its pure and pellucid source,—so the active imagination, the capacious intellect of Douglas, those high and valuable endowments, had, by an undue use of them, been perverted. But drawn from his former dissipated life to the cultivation of his talents,—directed to their true and only means of usefulness, the general good of society,—from the false and insinuating pleasures of sense, he became acted upon by motives, and guided by principles, of a quite opposite tendency. Most happy was the change, and most delightful to contemplate!
We have seen him gradually rising from the penitent sufferer into the man gifted with those high, those transcendent qualities, so ennobling to human nature!—scrupulous in the discharge of every moral obligation; conscientiously just in all his actions; and with a zeal the most persevering and devout, shunning every species of evil. A reformation so complete, who could behold without offering their homage of admiration! No wonder, then, that the warm, the tender, affectionate heart of Rosilia, overflowing with sensibility, was melted with a joy unspeakable!
At her own particular request, the wedding ceremony was postponed, in order that it might take place at the Bower, and under the auspices of Dr. Lovesworth; the private retirement of that spot favouring, in her idea, the sacredness of the ceremony, and thence better suited to act in accordance ​with the religious sanctity of her feelings. He who was to act as officiating minister, and now the acknowledged relation of Mrs. De Brooke, was written to by the General, in order to inform him of the combination of pleasing events that had arisen in his family; and also to hasten his coming, for the purpose of joining the happy couple, and of participating in the general satisfaction reigning amongst them.
The worthy Doctor, rejoicing at the information, determined to set off with all dispatch for the mansion of Mrs. Boville; there to tender in person his affectionate felicitations to Mrs. De Brooke on account of the delightful discovery of his being her cousin; and after which, to act in his official capacity of uniting her blooming daughter to the much-admired and noble Lord Deloraine.
The moment he received the gratifying intelligence, he made a new will, nominating his cousin, Mrs. De Brooke, his principal inheritor,—for reasons not more of esteem and affection than of her being his nearest relation; nor were the parents of Philimore forgotten, bequeathing them a legacy. To the fair sisters Oriana and Rosilia, his second cousins, he left £10,000 each, intending to bestow the portion designed for the latter as a wedding gift on his part; to which the General would have added a few thousands, but His Lordship would not listen to any such donation: amply endowed himself in the fair object bestowed upon him, his dearest and most devout ​wishes were realized; he required nothing farther; his measure of happiness was complete on this side Heaven! Yielding, therefore, to solicitations so enforced, the General revoked his intention, finding truly that no equivalent he had in his power to make, could in any way answer to the handsome settlement made upon his daughter by her generous-minded partner.
The wedding taking place according to the arrangements stated, Lord Deloraine lost no time in repairing with his enchanting bride to the seat of his ancestors. The regrets of parting from her parents, sister, and friends, together with the dear little Rose, whom she had already taught to lisp the word "Mamma!", might have thrown a transient cloud of sorrow around Rosilia, had it not been chased by the delicate attentions of her husband, and the conviction that their absence would be but short.
Oriana, in the sympathy she had felt for her sister during the whole previous preparations for the wedding, had become in a great measure lost to a sense of her own private regrets, having learnt submission to the will of Providence. The loss of Philimore, and the subsequent sufferings she had endured in relation to that event, had softened her temper and rendered her more reflective. Thus her days passed on, and not unblessed.
Her wishes and desires, even in the brightest hours of expectation, had ever been moderate; but having lost him in whom those hopes, desires, and ​wishes had centered, her then widowed heart reposed itself upon the present, seldom straying beyond the tranquil boundary of its home,—there to cherish the memory of Philimore, recall him to her fancy, dwell upon his accents, and trace the even serenity of his countenance; catch, as she was wont to do, those pure beams of affection emanating from his eyes;—and during the still hour of night, when sleep had closed her outward sense, and the busy active intelligences within were alone open—could it then be mere imagination, could it then be the mere ideal vision of fancy?—or was it that her soul, transported into those eternal abodes in which he dwelt, presented a real existing being to her view, the perfect symmetry of the human form resplendent with beauty? for then no longer did he appear, as during her waking moments, the resemblance but of a fleeting shadow!
Rising from her couch, and reflecting upon her dreams in such moments, a powerful conviction would steal upon her mind, that the reciprocity of affection she had enjoyed with Philimore would be renewed and perpetuated for ever in eternity.