# Duty and Inclination/Chapter 6

CHAPTER VI.
"The flattering scene is o'er,
My hopes for ever—ever fled— And vengeance can no more."
We have said that Douglas was formed to fascinate and ensnare the female heart; Rosilia De Brooke had become the object of his pursuit, and difficult was it for her to resist his various attractions; but yet she did resist them: although his character could not stand the test of scrutiny, her fancy was captivated, but her understanding refused its homage. New as were these sentiments to her bosom, she scarcely could define the nature of them; she seemed to be entangled as by some powerful spell, while, at the same time, she acknowledged, with deep regret, that Douglas was not one to whom she could confide the future peace and comfort of her life. Thus he who had invariably succeeded in his designs upon every other, had the mortification to be rejected by the young and artless though intelligent Rosilia—notwithstanding she was shortly to quit a sphere ​which nature had eminently qualified her to ornament.
The minds of the sisters had been early formed, and improved by culture. Though not less moral and virtuous in actual principle than Rosilia, yet the characteristic vivacity of Oriana rendered her less firm in purpose; Duty and reason with her, if weighed against Inclination and affection, would have been found but light in the balance. With Rosilia it was otherwise: perhaps, from the very diffidence of herself and her own powers, she could with better security combat temptation; thoughtful and reflective, no consideration whatever could have led her to enter the marriage state with that precipitate rashness which lead so many young people to misery and reproach. She had been taught to consider matrimony as a solemn contract, a holy institution, which she would profane and abuse if she entered into it from any motives contrary to that true and lasting friendship,—that esteem and respect, that high opinion of the worth and merit of the object to whom she was to devote her life, look up to for support and protection, and with whom she might expect to find a return of those tender endearments so necessary to constitute her full and perfect happiness.
For the first time in her life Rosilia was called ​upon to decide for herself, and that too in the most important incident of it. Deeply and seriously did she reflect on the decision she should make.
"I cannot," she at length said to herself, "accept of Douglas; every idea that suggests itself to me only confirms me in the opinion that I cannot be his; were I to waive them, I should act inconsistently with every principle of virtue. To join myself in close association with one whom all the good and sensible censure as a libertine! Far be it from thee, Rosilia, to prove thyself so unthinking and giddy a creature! I cannot be his. And if, indeed, I had not these weighty objections, could I bestow my hand at such a moment as the present, when my father is about to part with his Villa, and break up his establishment? Might not my leaving him be construed into mercenary and selfish motives? might it not be supposed that I was impatient to fly from the ruin awaiting us?" She paused; and, after a short interval of hesitation, continued with a sigh: "These scruples; alas, these scruples! I would reject them had Douglas a virtuous mind, had he a character I could depend upon, could I freely and unreservedly bestow upon him my esteem and confidence."
The whole of Rosilia's proceedings had been uninfluenced by her parents, notwithstanding they ​had regarded her with the watchful eye of solicitude. They saw in Douglas much to admire; generosity sat on his manly brow; a noble candour accompanied his words and actions; he was naturally (they were persuaded) inclined to good; but some unlucky accident, the changes and chances of life, they supposed, had turned his mind from its original bias. The information the General had received, in his inquiries regarding the conduct of Douglas, had tended much to disappoint and vex him, having, with Mrs. De Brooke, entertained the hope of seeing one of his girls provided for, ere they left the Villa for a cottage retirement in Wales. The representation made of Douglas proved that he was by no means suited to become the partner of their Rosilia. A mind like hers, so delicately organized, they were well assured, could never support the rude blasts, which would undoubtedly assail it if connected with a man of free principles. If, indeed, she were so fortunate as to escape the contagion of his example, her heart, they well knew, would become lost to peace, would sicken under the contemplation of his vices. They blamed themselves for not having sooner made inquiries respecting him, being sensible the temptation was not a trifling one to which their child had been exposed. Her apparent indifference, ​however, to Douglas sometimes caused them to imagine her heart might have been untouched; sometimes they thought the contrary; and this idea, conjoined to the recollection of their ruined circumstances, rendered them fearful of opposing her inclinations. In rejecting the addresses of Douglas, they had no better prospect in view for her, than that of burying her youth in total seclusion, without a chance afforded her of forming any more advantageous settlement. Marriage might reclaim him; domestic life might gradually wean him from habits of dissipation. His income was undoubtedly scanty, but his interest was great; and his family connections every way calculated to promote them. Thus viewing the subject and reasoning with Rosilia accordingly, they left the final answer to herself; and, in proportion as it was important, they wished her to act from a mind free and unbiassed.
The resolution she had formed remained unchanged—a cottage and solitude awaited her. "Take me with you", said she: "allow me to share with my beloved Oriana, the humble lot to which we are reduced. Major Douglas is not one whom I should choose as the partner of my future life."
Thus affording the result of her meditations, her parents became confirmed in the idea that her ​heart had never yielded to sentiments of attachment for Douglas. How much were they mistaken! far from being pleased, how pained would they have been, had they been able to unravel the web, in the foldings of which lay concealed the real feelings of Rosilia; had they known, that he whom she thus refused, had been long the intimate associate of her every thought; that his image was engraved upon her fancy, and that every sigh breathed in secret was for him! How would the sublimity of her principles have risen upon their view, and how, in their fond approbation of the sacrifice of feeling she was making, would they have mingled the soul-harrowing idea of their broken fortunes, which thus consigned her virtues to inevitable obscurity!
That hour, so impatiently awaited by Douglas, that important hour at last arrived. Full of ardent expectation, indulging the most encouraging hopes, he hastened to the dwelling which contained the mistress of his soul. He was ushered into the drawing-room, where the family had assembled with visitors: his eye instantaneously caught that of Rosilia; her confusion was obvious: scarcely more able to control himself, he, however, advanced with that grace and ease by which no one perhaps was ever more distinguished. After ​paying his respects to the ladies, he was drawn aside by the General, who led him into an inner room. Rosilia was well acquainted with the nature of the conference which was to ensue; her heart throbbed as if it would have burst its inclosure; her whole frame trembled; she should have fled, but she feared drawing upon her the attention of the company. After the space of half an hour, her father and Douglas returned. The bitterness of woe sat depicted on the countenance of the latter; he cast at Rosilia a look, which penetrated to the inmost recesses of her soul.
To conceal her increasing emotions, she arose from her seat, and retired to an adjoining window, to which Douglas immediately following, in faint and faltering accents said, "Rosilia, do you indeed consign me to wretchedness, to eternal misery?—say, say it quickly—has your father given me your own free sentiments—are you resolved that I part from you now, and for ever?"
Rosilia hesitated; her respiration seemed suspended; until arming herself with courage to support her in a moment so decisive, in a voice scarcely audible, she replied in the affirmative.
"It is enough", rejoined Douglas, and rushed precipitately from the apartment.
Rosilia saw him fly along the avenue, she saw ​him turn: he pressed his hands with fervent transport on his breast, raised them to heaven, and seemed to bid her farewell for ever!
And where at that moment was the heroism of Rosilia? The captivating, the gay, the eloquent Douglas had vanished from her sight—was gone for ever! She remained a moment motionless, absorbed in melancholy; then retired to the privacy of her chamber, where her tears gushed forth in secret, and afforded a temporary relief to her oppressed heart.
The unhappy Douglas arrived at his home, raving like a maniac. He never before had received repulse from woman; his inflated vanity could but ill brook this humiliation of it, inflicted by one so young and inexperienced. He had felt assured of winning upon the affections of a character so artless, and had been only led to hazard his proposals from the imaginary security he had felt in having awakened in Rosilia a return of sentiment. No wonder then that he burst into a paroxysm of rage, as fruitless as it was tumultuous, uttering ungovernable and wild exclamations; till, at last, exhausted by the violence of his grief, he sunk into a state of stupor, bearing for the moment a semblance of patience,
"Short intermission, fraught with double woe;"
"Good God?" he exclaimed, after a long interval of thought; "it is now that I am punished for the irregularities of my past life,—now, when my whole soul is devoted to an object, whose expanding graces of mind and person I should have purified myself in contemplating,—now, when my heart burns with an unconquerable attachment;—now I am left desolate—alive only to the consciousness of being truly miserable! The retribution of Providence is just; I am stopped in my career by the chastisements, the sufferings it inflicts! It was not fit that the sanctity of that spotless maid should have received contamination from me; it was outrageous to suppose it—it was madness!"
The seeds of repentance thus gradually infused, continued to take still deeper root: it was a moment the most critical. From first seeing, then acknowledging his errors, Douglas might be led to correct them. Oh woman, behold thy power! Too often have thy bewitching charms enslaved ​men's minds to sin, and degraded them in the dust; but when to outward charms are united the sweet, the sacred, inward attractions of virtue, what canst thou not effect? The raising, the ennobling of a fellow creature, who, in the contemplation of thy transcendent worth, thy purity, seeks reformation, and endeavours to emulate thy bright example, in despite of every enticing snare and every powerful resistance he meets with, in the attempt to render himself worthy of thee!
The passion of Douglas seemed heightened by the barrier which now opposed it into uncontrollable ardour. Amongst the many women he had admired, Rosilia alone had been really capable of touching his heart, and of making on it any durable impression. The pleasing novelty arising from the modest sweetness of her manners had greatly contributed to secure her influence over him; for in vain had he sought her prototype in crowds and gay assemblies. If perchance some distinguished beauty attracted his admiration, it was but transient, when he found she could boldly confront his gaze, wholly divested of that engaging charm which ever caused on the cheek of Rosilia a lovely suffusion, as she turned abashed from the eye of observation. Thus it remained for her alone to awaken those finer feelings of his mind, which, till ​he saw her, had deeply slumbered. Happy would it have been for him had he met a Rosilia during the earlier period of his youth; he then might have been formed into everything good and noble. But, alas! his principles, originally good, had been soon shaken, and he became more and more exposed to those temptations which assail the young, and are so difficult to resist in the vortex of a voluptuous city, where luxury and pleasure, like the fatal syrens, charm only to deceive.
Had the passion of Douglas been crowned by success, had he obtained possession of Rosilia, intoxicated with bliss, he would probably not have been roused to that state of deep compunction in which we now behold him. Reformation, deferred, might never have taken place; and the awful hour of dissolution might have arrived, and have found him still impenitent.