# Duty and Inclination/Chapter 44

DUTY AND INCLINATION.
CHAPTER I.
"O ye pure inmates of the gentle breast,
Truth, Freedom, Love, O where is your abode?"
Beattie.
Through the medium of a servant who had been sent from the Park to London, Oriana had been made acquainted with the illness of Philimore, who lay extended on the bed of sickness, while she was denied the gratification of watching by his side; the poignancy of her affliction being aggravated by the idea that she had been herself the cause of his illness, arising doubtless from cold caught on the day of their last interview. In the agony of her soul, she was at one time tempted to fly to him, to allow no hindrance to stop her; and by so doing, reveal at once, undisguisedly and publicly, the claims he held upon her.
​ In secret she gave herself up to excessive sorrow,—portrayed in her imagination the frightful image of the dissolution of him to whom her affections had been so long linked in sweet connexion. Unhappy Oriana! wrapt in silent woe or in murmuring sounds, wild and frantic, nought could assuage her grief but the persuasion that if Philimore died she would not long survive him: "That moment," she exclaimed, "which consigns him to the tomb, will also strike the fatal blow at me! Death will be welcome, it will end a life that would be miserable without him!"
The physician who had been called to attend upon Philimore did not hesitate to pronounce his complaint an affection of the lungs; softening, however the case to his parents, by assuring them that he did not entertain any immediate fears of danger.
Philimore had dreaded nothing so much as that the intelligence of his illness should reach Oriana; the idea of the anguish she would suffer on his account seeming worse a thousand times than the acute bodily pain he endured.
From a second and third messenger, however, Oriana had each time the satisfaction of hearing that her Philimore was better; and she became still more solaced by the hope of again receiving his invaluable letters as soon as an improved state of convalescence would enable him to write; she having experienced no difficulty in receiving his communications, which were often delivered even in the presence of her aunt, who never, by the slightest curiosity, expressed a ​desire to learn who was her correspondent; a facility which greatly reconciled her residence at the Park, and consequent separation from her family.
The obsequious and polite Sir Howard had in the meantime so much won upon the attention of the General, that he as well as his lady became less desirous of quitting London than they had been previous to the intimacy formed with him.
Mrs. Herbert began to feel uneasiness on the score of his frequent visits, lest he should prove a second Harcourt. Having succeeded in dismissing the one, she was determined also, if possible, to counteract the views of the other, commencing her interference by saying what she thought might best depreciate him in the estimation of Rosilia; who, not aware of her artful designs, sometimes defended Sir Howard against her imputations, which she conceived were unmerited, but which gave Mrs. Herbert cause to suspect that in so doing she was not wholly disinterested, and that her inclinations, which she had fondly hoped would have been reserved to bless her son, had already become excited in favour of another.
"Ah," said she one day, in a disconsolate tone, "I see how it is, you are ambitious of a title, which has caused you to decide so prematurely. Truly," continued she ironically, "to be styled Your Ladyship! my Lady Sinclair! may well compensate for many deficiencies."
Indignant at the charge, Rosilia for a moment ​maintained a proud silence; but when she considered it was the friend of her infancy who had thus spoken, her age also claiming respect, she hesitated no longer to rescue herself from a suspicion so ill-grounded, but declared at once her real opinion and sentiments: "Sir Howard," added she, "is, I am certain, too discreet, and too much a man of discernment, to put my acceptance or refusal of him to the test, as he must doubtless be convinced that if he were to be thus tempted, mortification and disappointment only would be the result."
Mrs. Herbert would have replied, but Rosilia had disappeared.
On finding herself alone, and her real sentiments prevailing undisguised by artifice, Mrs. Herbert wondered that Rosilia could have broached an opinion so decided, a resolution so firm: "So difficult to please," thought she, "perhaps her Edward might meet with a like fate." The mother's partiality, however, placed the subject in a more favourable light, and she waited with renewed impatience her son's return to England.
It happened, however, that the bright expectations she formed, as to the fruition of her long-cherished scheme, met with a most formidable check by the General and his family removing to other lodgings, which, in the vexation she felt, she inwardly attributed to the machinations of Sir Howard.
He had taken them to look at a small but beautifully furnished house not far from the ​neighbourhood of Portland-place, and which by his address and recommendation he succeeded in procuring for them. Quick and keen-sighted as he ever was in forming conclusions of what might militate against the plans he had formed, Mrs. Herbert's dry salutation whenever he called upon her friends had not escaped him; but what was the most annoying to him in her conduct, whenever he intended to avail himself of a vacant chair by the side of Rosilia, Mrs. Herbert, as if purposely to oppose his so doing, was always certain to throw herself into it. "The cursed inquisitive looks of that beldame," ejaculated he upon quitting her house; "I must try to get rid of her, or she may outwit me." With such a determination, he contrived to draw away Rosilia and her parents from under her roof, to which they had been induced to consent by the airy situation of the new house, and the fine prospect it commanded.
Becoming nearly a daily visitor at their new residence, Sir Howard was so assiduous in forming some new engagement to enliven and steal away time that Rosilia could no longer complain of the monotony of her life. It was to the civilities and contrivances of Sir Howard she was at this period indebted for her every gratification. It was the merits of Sir Howard to which her attention was continually being attracted. Whence came it then that she still remained unconfiding and mistrustful of him? Did it originate in a too nice and sensitive delicacy that she thus shrunk from his notice, timidly to retire within ​herself? or might it be that her heart was shielded by former impressions?
Such could not be the case, her secret partiality for Douglas having found admittance to her imagination merely: having never met with the approval of her understandings it never took deep root in her heart, and hence, with the knowledge of his marriage, hope becoming utterly expelled, left her for the future perfectly at liberty to indulge in the conjugal sentiment. But however gracious and agreeable might be the general address, conversation, and deportment of Sir Howard, he did not convey to Rosilia that something, indefinable to herself, constituting the man of true worth, and which in the enthusiasm of her soul she looked for,—truth, wisdom, goodness, benevolence of heart, that truly which ennobles man. Sir Howard appeared presumptuous in his gallantry, and from casual circumstances she was sometimes disposed to doubt the strict veracity of his principles. She might judge harshly, or she might see but through the medium of her own peculiar susceptibility; be this as it may, it was reserved for Sir Howard to appear in a light still more amiable than hitherto.
It was one delightful evening towards the latter end of May, when Sir Howard proposed an excursion into the country. Having made an engagement with a friend, the General declined forming one of the party. Rolling leisurely along, the road on either side exhibiting a rich and picturesque scenery, Mrs. ​De Brooke and Rosilia found themselves upon a sudden embosomed in a recess the most luxuriant and flowery. Sir Howard called to the driver to stop; he wished to alight. It was just at the entrance of a little pathway, overshadowed by trees, whose entwining branches formed a sort of arbour. It seemed a spot formed for Dryads, or where an eremite might meditate without fear of disturbance.
Thus thought Rosilia, when there suddenly appeared in the winding path a figure, tall, slight, and fragile, bent by years and infirmity, whose aspect was that of poverty; supported by crutches he moved slowly and feebly along; a faint smile cheered his withered countenance as his eyes, sunk beneath furrowed brows, rested with complacency upon Sir Howard, before whom he stopped.
"May heaven reward you," said he, addressing him in broken accents, "may heaven bless you, my good, my honoured Sir!"
"How does Madge?" inquired Sir Howard in accents of benignity.
"She be quite well, and she'll be a deal glad to see you if you be coming down to the cot."
In attempting to turn he dropped one of his crutches, and would have fallen to the ground had he not been supported by Sir Howard, who, begging Mrs. De Brooke to excuse him for a few minutes, proceeded on with his venerable companion.
Deeply participating in this interesting scene, as soon as Rosilia, by an abrupt turning, lost sight of ​the receding figures, she, with her mother's consent, flew swiftly to the spot whence they had disappeared, where a small neat hut presented itself, screened from observation, behind the little lattice of which she stopped, fearful of intruding, and through which she could hear Sir Howard's inquiries relative to the furniture and other conveniences of the cottage, accompanied by promises to supply every want, with the thanks, blessings, and prayers of those guileless spirits, who being so near the regions of the blest, might, thought Rosilia, assuredly be heard in behalf of their benefactor.
"My honest friends," at length said Sir Howard, "I can stop no longer; fare ye well!"
Scarcely had he put his foot without than he caught sight of Rosilia: "Alone! can she be alone!" ejaculated he; when upon looking round to ascertain the fact, he perceived Mrs. De Brooke slowly advancing.
Frustrated in his hopes he hurried towards her, and offered the support of his arm.
"Which way shall we bend our course?" inquired he; "amongst these sylvan scenes awhile, or to the barouche?"
"Not, I hope," answered Rosilia, "until we have entered that sweet little cottage, and made acquaintance with its owners."
Mrs. De Brooke seconding her daughter's wish, Sir Howard, stepping in with alacrity, brought out two wicker chairs for the fair visitors of Madge.
​ 'Tis in habitations such as these, where the honest peasant dwells, where content smiles through indigence, that the affluent, the proud, may learn to bound their wishes, and perceive the vanity of wealth. A neat simplicity adorned the rustic cot, and poor old Madge, the wife of the aged labourer already described, hobbled forth, oppressed with years, but with all the testimonies of cordiality, to welcome his visitors. She had been just employed in the task of feeding some newly hatched chickens, which Rosilia begged she would continue, lending also her assistance, often desisting from her work to fondle and cherish the little half-fledged fluttering things.
Obliged at length to obey the mandate of her mother, she turned to follow her, when, as she did so, she caught Sir Howard's deep and penetrating eye. What a child! what infantine simplicity! thought he; yet combined with a judgment so mature, an intelligence so rich! Surely she is a riddle; the more I study her, the less I appear to understand her. Recollecting himself he was quickly at the side of Mrs. De Brooke, to whom he was ever cautious of paying his chief attentions.
"'Tis truly a neat and comfortable asylum," said she, "bestowed, if I judge aright, by the hand of charity, where age may find a shelter from the buffets of adversity."
She would gladly have extracted some little history relative to the venerable pair; but Sir Howard, with an apparent reserve, seemed desirous of evading ​the information, and all that she could gather was that they had been very poor and in great distress, that he had known them to be honest and industrious domestics, formerly in the service of his father, and as they were too infirm any longer to assist themselves, he felt happy it had fallen to his lot to supply their little wants.
"And is poor old Margery capable of attending to all the concerns of the cottage," inquired Rosilia, "within as well as without?"
"She has nothing to do, poor soul," answered Sir Howard, "but sit at her spinning-wheel and feed her poultry; all beside is performed by a robust country girl."
He sought to change the topic, and soon after arrived at the barouche in waiting.
The shades of evening were already advanced, but Sir Howard solicited the permission of Mrs. De Brooke to proceed a little further previous to returning home, in order to enjoy the view of a dell, remarkable for its extent, beauty, and romantic appearance.