Modern Flirtations: A Novel

by Catherine Sinclair

  CHAPTER IX.

  Among the companions of Agnes and Marion Dunbar, none was morecalculated to excite a feeling of enthusiastic tenderness and regardthan Clara Granville, whom all approached with a feeling of nearlyromantic interest, occasioned by the etherealized delicacy of herlovely countenance and fragile form. Sir Patrick, from her earliestchildhood, had always mentioned Clara in terms of such exaggeratedenthusiasm, that Agnes, imagining his taste to be very different,believed him to be more than half in jest, though his language andmanner seemed daily to become more in earnest, while in terms ofrapture he admired her eloquent and intelligent conversation, sodifferent from the flippant nonsense of most girls, and the lightgracefulness of her step, saying she looked like some beautifulapparition, less encumbered with body, and more endowed with spirit,than any one who ever before stepped upon the earth. Her pale goldenhair, falling like a halo round her fair bright countenance, and therare beauty of her large downcast eyes, which were generally veiledwith a look of deep thought and sensibility, gave a charm so peculiarto her aspect, that the eye loved to dwell upon it as upon some lovelytwilight scene, over which the light of heaven was casting its pureand peaceful, yet fading refulgence. None looked at Clara withoutfearing that she could not be long intended for this world, as thefervor of her mind and feelings appeared so little in proportion tothe extreme delicacy of her complexion, which was tinted like arose-leaf on her transparent cheek, the color flitting with everypassing emotion. It did indeed seem as if the sword within mustquickly wear out the scabbard; yet Clara enjoyed society beyondmeasure, and mingled in it with a zest which caused Sir Patrick oftento say she must be stronger certainly than she looked, and there wasnothing, he thought, more odious in a woman than rude health--a sortof rudeness never certainly attributable to Miss Granville.

  Agnes's favorite aversion had always been Clara, formerly hercotemporary and rival at school, though the rivalship was only felt onone side, as Miss Granville would have remained unconscious of itsvery existence, but for the bitter taunts occasionally levelled ather, and the tone of evident irritability in which Agnes took italways for granted that the jealousy was mutual, attributing thoughtsand motives perpetually to her gentle companion, of which so amiableand well-regulated a disposition was incapable. It may generally beobserved, that many more quarrels arise from people wilfully takingoffence, than from people wilfully giving it; and there is quite asmuch ill-temper in the one case as in the other. Clara had sufferedmuch on account of her every inadvertent word or action beingpurposely misconstrued; but she very properly viewed the annoyance asa salutary lesson in circumspection, before entering the great arenaof society, and mildly avoided all collision of interests or opinionswith Agnes, though her whole powers of conciliation on the part of SirPatrick gave his sister reason to apprehend that his affections mightby possibility be engaged to her. Nothing could be more painfullyirritating than the tone of contempt with which Agnes "spoke at" Clararespecting the art and cunning with which some manoeuvring missesendeavored to push their fortune in the matrimonial world, by makingadvances to gentlemen, which she would despise herself forcondescending to, and that lookers on see more of the game than isintended. All this was said in such an accidental tone, and in suchgeneral terms, that no decided notice could be taken of it by Clara,who nevertheless felt so painful a consciousness of what was meant andinsinuated, that she ceased almost entirely to visit Agnes, or toassociate with her.

  About the time when Mrs. Smythe left Portobello, Sir Patrick returnedfrom spending a month at Lady Towercliffe's in Fife, evidentlylaboring under a depression of spirits very unusual with him; and whenAgnes, perplexed by observing that he did not attempt to throw off thecloud of melancholy, tinged very strongly with ill-humor, which had sosuddenly come over him, tried to guess or discover the cause, shefound it for some time impossible to gain a glimpse of the truth,though she asked as many questions as might have filled a volume ofPinnock's Catechisms.

  At length, after some miscellaneous conversation one day, Agnesinquired for the twentieth time whether the party in Fife had beenagreeable, when Sir Patrick shortly and drily replied,

  "Clara Granville was there!"

  "But had you any new beauties?"

  "Clara Granville!"

  "Pshaw! Well, then! were there any agreeable people?"

  "Clara Granville!"

  "You are beyond all bearing absurd and tormenting, Pat!" continuedAgnes, with a contemptuous toss of her head; "but I may at leastventure with impunity to ask, were any of the ladies well dressed?"

  "Clara Granville!"

  "That ends my curiosity on the subject of your visit," replied Agnes,angrily affecting to yawn. "Never try to persuade me you care forClara. She is the most unflirtable girl in the world! As cold as astatue of ice in an east wind! She has the most tiresome style ofprettiness that can be conceived, with that alabaster paleness, thatpetrifying calmness of manner, and a heart like a cucumber! The verystyle of her dress is wearying, with not a color that one could give aname to; and then her long undertoned tete-a-tete conversations aboutnobody knows what, as dull and monotonous as a dinner-bell, neverenlivened with a bit of gossip, nor spiced with any scandal! There isa whole "Society for the suppression of vice" in her eye every timeshe looks at one! She would evidently be terrified for the echo of herown voice, and never yet committed the indiscretion of a laugh!"

  "Are you done?" asked Sir Patrick, in a tone of concentrated anger,which would have silenced any one but Agnes.

  "Done! I could speak for two hours without telling you half how littleI think of Clara Granville!" said she, in a paroxysm of eloquence."One comfort is, however, she will never take!"

  "But Clara has already 'taken,' as you elegantly express yourself,"exclaimed Sir Patrick, who had been walking vehemently up and down theroom during this tirade from Agnes, and now stood opposite to her,with a look of angry defiance. "Clara is surpassingly lovely! Herportrait should be the frontispiece to Finden's next Book of Beauty!She has the loveliness of a seraph!"

  "Certainly, if you mean that she looks as if the first breath of windwould blow her down! like an overgrown geranium, that should be tiedup to a stick!"

  "Clara is delicate and graceful as the first frail blossoms ofspring," interrupted Sir Patrick. "She has but one fault in the world,and that is, being faultless! Clara is worth a whole creation ofordinary girls! That look of mild serenity, and those deep, thoughtfuleyes, looking as serene as the blue firmament above. Her everyattitude is what a Guido might have delighted to paint. Agnes, thereis music and rapture in every tone of her voice! At Lady Towercliffe'sno one was looked at, nor spoken to, but Miss Granville! She stoleinto all hearts, without any man guessing his danger till too late!Everybody admired, or, I should rather, say, loved her!"

  "You are 'everybody,' then, I suppose, for I never heard of any oneelse, who for half a moment thought her tolerable. All this nonsenseis merely to tease me, Pat. Do confess it at once, and be serious!"

  "That I never am when I can help it!"

  "Well, then, let it always be a jest and I have no objection to callup a laugh, if it be your humor; but I would engage to walk out of theworld at once, whenever Clara has a serious, downright proposal fromany presentable-looking man, such as one would not be ashamed to sitin a room with!"

  "What do you think of me, Agnes?" asked Sir Patrick, walking straightup to her and looking his sister full in the face, with a momentaryattempt to be facetious, while his countenance betrayed considerableagitation. "Would you be much astonished if I had made her an offer?"

  "Nonsense, Pat! I would disown you for a brother! Now, do not looklike an ogre at me! You will say any absurdity in jest!"

  "You know, Agnes, I have been a month in the house lately with Clara!"replied Sir Patrick, in a voice which sounded by no means like jest;"and that month was more than a lifetime in showing me the worth of areal and heartfelt attachment. Even I, mercenary as I am, could valueit more than gold! I date the beginning of my existence from th
e hourI first knew her. There is a depth of mind and heart in the characterof Clara Granville, utterly incomprehensible to ordinary observers.She does everything well, and says everything with a grace peculiarlyher own. Her manner is the very essence of fascination. Every otherperson seems coarse and vulgar in comparison; and I even feel somyself! I know you will treat me to a cannonade of abuse againstClara; but that is no matter now," added Sir Patrick, in a tone ofdeep dejection; "perhaps it may do me good!"

  "Wonders occur every hour of every day, but this is the greatest ofall!" observed Agnes, drily. "I never thought you would commit such apiece of disinterested nonsense, as to fall in love, gratis, with anypenniless girl, and least of all with Clara. If you were to chooseamong all the young ladies I know, blindfold, you could scarcelychoose one more unsuitable! If this indeed be true, Clara may be proudof her conquest!"

  "She ought!" replied Sir Patrick, glancing at his own magnificent headin a mirror; "but being in many respects peculiar, she by no meansappreciated the honor as you expect!"

  "You are possessed by the very genius of nonsense to-day, Pat! but ifsuch a catch as you were to fall in Clara Granville's way, I shouldlike to see her and all her family, not more than happy on theoccasion!"

  "Well, then! open your ears of astonishment, Agnes! She has actuallyrather refused me than otherwise! I am positively more in love withClara, than language can express! I could pursue her to the very endsof the earth! I must, and shall marry her! I would shoot myselfto-morrow, if I thought there could be doubt of it," exclaimed SirPatrick, vehemently, while Agnes became gradually as grave as night."Clara at first actually accepted me! She was your sister-in-lawelect, for three long and happy weeks, and I did not think life couldhave given me so much to live for; but she afterwards most perverselyand unaccountably revoked! What do you think was the reason, Agnes, ofall reasons in the world!"

  "I am bad at guessing absurdities," replied Agnes, who would havehurled a more angry answer at her brother, had she dared. "Whatevermight be the cause, it was very lucky for you, who may, if you knowyour own value, make the first match in the kingdom!"

  "Well, then! actually that she thought my religious principles notsufficiently serious! That her brother disapproved of my morals andconduct! I offered her any terms! To attend chapel with her once everySunday; to refrain from Sunday dinners, and Sunday travelling! Not evento ride out on horseback that day; and, in short, to pass Sir Andrew'swhole Sunday bill in my house; but it did not satisfy her! What wouldthey have!" continued Sir Patrick, gnawing his lip with vexation. "Igave her a _carte blanche_ to put my name down as a subscriber to asmany tract, missionary, and slave-abolition societies, as she pleased,and asked her how many distressed families she wished me to maintain."

  "How excessively handsome!" said Agnes, satirically. "All I need sayis, it was very genteel!"

  "Yet Clara persevered in giving me a plump decline! No wonder you lookincredulous! I can scarcely yet believe it myself! This shall notlast, however! I felt piqued at first, and left her. I am always toosoon, or too late, in all I do; but it must be tried again and again!I would rather live without the sun and stars, than without ClaraGranville! The very repetition of her name is a pleasure! Agnes, whatcan you do to assist me!"

  "Assist! I shall do everything in the world to bring you back yoursenses, Pat! Rather than see that grave, priggish, matter-of-fact,Clara, my sister-in-law, I would----"

  Agnes could not, at the moment, think of any illustration sufficientlystrong to exemplify her abhorrence of such a catastrophe, and twistedher ringlets over her finger for some moments, in dignified andportentous silence. At length she said, with an air of supremecontempt, "You know, Pat! Clara Granville has not a shilling in thewide world!--never had! At school she used to be like a bale of cottonfrom the manufactories; cotton stockings, pink gingham frocks, andhorrid grey beaver gloves! She once had a silk dress, and it wasturned, I think, three times!"

  "Fiddlesticks and nonsense! So much the better! She will be anexcellent wife for a poor man; and poor enough I shall soon be! Youneed not argue with a milestone, but put a good face on the matter intime, Agnes; for during all the four thousand years that men have beenfalling in love, and marrying, I believe no one ever did so merely toplease his sister, and I am not the man to begin! In most respects, Imay, perhaps, be sordidly anxious for money, but in the matter of loveI have taken the whim of being disinterested. If Clara had the Bank ofEngland for her portion, I could not love her more. As for heiresses,I hear the only one worth a thought, Miss Howard Smytheson, with hermillion a-year, is bespoke to order for De Crespigny."

  "Perhaps he has taken the whim of being disinterested also!" repliedAgnes, arranging a favorite curl with great complacency at a mirror."His uncle is very arbitrary; and like all uncles, continues for everto think his nephew a perfect boy. He threatened lately to marryhimself, if Captain De Crespigny declined! That old dot has somespirit! He seems not to be aware that there is such a thing in theworld for himself as a refusal; and certainly, Pat, I can scarcelyfancy the woman in existence who could refuse you. I hardly knowwhether to wonder most that Clara had the opportunity, or that she hadthe inclination!"

  "The whim will soon wear off! She loves me, that is certain; but ifeven she hated me, it would make no difference in my attachment. I likeher the better for showing some spirit, and great disinterestedness.Clara's conduct was like herself, beautiful. Her affections are mine!I see it, and no earthly power can tear her from me! I would followher to the very grave."

  Sir Patrick did not by any means find Clara's resolutions, which wereformed upon principle, of such very malleable materials as he hadprophesied. His own feelings were, on all occasions, like a whirlwind;and his eagerness, excited to excess by opposition, became unboundedto meet Clara, or to catch the most distant glimpse of hershadow,--but in vain. Day after day he contrived to pass beneath herwindow, but she had adopted invisibility; and evening after evening,he obliged Agnes, greatly against her inclination, to send the verykindest notes of invitation, which he dictated himself, asking her tothe house; but the polite apology which invariably returned, mightalmost have been lithographed, it became so frequently necessary; yetstill Sir Patrick persevered and hoped, saying one day, in a voice ofirritability and depression, to Agnes, "It seems as if we weredestined never to see Clara again!"

  "That would be too much happiness," exclaimed Agnes peevishly;twisting Clara's last reply into a thousand shapes and tossing it intothe fire. "This is all so like you, Pat! You invent a thousand reasonsfor wishing something till it is obtained, and then you care for it nomore! If Clara Granville consented, you would be, like Sir PeterTeazle, 'the most miserable man alive before people were done wishingyou joy!' Men are all so changeable and selfish!"

  "Whether are men or women most selfish, I should like to know?"

  "Men, decidedly! From six years old, till sixty, they seem born andbrought up to think of no one's comfort but their own, and they alwaysmarry to please themselves!"

  "Of course! and very right they should!"

  Agnes had now got upon a favorite subject of declamation, theselfishness of mankind,--for those who are selfish or ill-temperedthemselves, live always under the delusion that they are the onlypersons living entirely exempt from such faults,--but her eloquencenow soon left her "in possession of the house," as Sir Patrick made arapid retreat, followed by that very effective slamming of the door,so infallible a receipt for obtaining the last word in an argument,and for asserting in undoubted terms, a very decided view of thesubject in question.

  Though Sir Patrick Dunbar had long been known as a Tattersall andDoncaster man, yet Clara Granville had little suspected that his namewas implicated in transactions of rather an equivocal complection,while the good-natured half of the world persevered in calling itscandal, being unwilling very severely to censure the peccadilloes ofthe handsomest and most agreeable man in their circle of society,living only for the enjoyment of the senses and the happiness of thepresent hour, while he thought
it too long a look-out to anticipatewhat might happen the day after to-morrow. In respect to Sir Patrick'sreputation, a vague understanding seemed to prevail that all was notright, yet no explicit explanation seemed ever to be obtained.

  Some thing there was--what, none presumed to say, Clouds lightly passing as the summer day.

  There are not only faults in the very best characters, but redeemingqualities also in the very worst, and with much selfishness, theresult of a perverted education, the handsome and fascinating SirPatrick had naturally a good temper and excitable affections, thoughthese were wound up occasionally to the wildest excess, while hisfortune was not more recklessly squandered than his attachment in themomentary impulse of an hour.

  As, therefore, no man is so thoroughly excellent as to be withouterrors, neither is any living mortal so depraved as to be withoutvirtues, and the utmost extreme, in one respect or the other, willonly be perfected in an eternal world. It often seems to an observer,as if two opposite beings had been kneaded into one, since qualitiesso contradictory may be traced in the same individual.

  Though Sir Patrick Dunbar was eager and rapacious in acquiring money,and would incur any meanness to avoid paying it, he seemed,nevertheless, lavish, and what some people mis-called generous, insquandering what he called his own. Though cold and selfish ingeneral, some fine impulses had been in his nature, which proved himcapable of vehement, persevering, and passionate attachment, where hisaffections, or rather his fancy, had been once engaged; while, at thesame time, he was more ashamed to testify any feeling than he wouldhave been to commit a crime, and endeavored to blind people towardsthat sensibility which was in reality the redeeming point in hischaracter, by talking often with the utmost contempt and even ridiculeof all those for whom he might have been supposed to feel the weaknessof a real attachment.

  Sir Patrick had indeed been, what his companions called, "fairlycaught," by Clara; and his heart, till now hermetically sealed againstall real confidence and friendship, was now for the first timeunclosed, in its inmost recesses, while even his hackneyed mind seemedto catch a ray of light and warmth from the sunny freshness and purityof Clara's intellectual mind. Her intelligent conversation, enlivenedby a vein of sly pleasing humor, had completely taken him by surprise,being as fresh and gentle as a summer breeze, while her appearance, soyoung, timid, and lovely, caused the eye to rest on her with asentiment of almost melancholy interest. Clara had only emerged fromschool, finally, a few days before Sir Patrick met her at LadyTowercliffe's, and her extreme naivete was her first attraction,though that was superseded before long by still greater admiration,while he became hourly more fascinated by her melancholy songs andthoughtful conversation.

  To Clara, Sir Patrick had only hitherto been known as a schoolcompanion of her brother's, but so conscientiously did RichardGranville invariably abstain from evil-speaking, that, even wherejustice might have warranted the severest censure, he merely becamesilent. It is observable that, in the wisdom of Providence, nothing ismade in vain. Even the very weeds that encumber our path have, whenunder proper restraint, their important uses, and in the mind of man,the tendency implanted by nature, to discuss and criticize the conductof others, has, when properly exercised, its own advantages, by actingas a salutary restraint on the conduct of those who would otherwise doevil with impunity, and by also giving a timely warning, and hangingout a beacon-light to those who would otherwise trust their interestand happiness where such confidence was unmerited, and where allcontact is dangerous.

  Captain De Crespigny's jilting propensities were the less dangerous,from their being so generally discussed in society, as few werewilling that the unwary should suffer, rather than his faults beexposed to censure; but Mr. Granville, by not giving his sister timelywarning against the dissipated extravagance and almost infidelprinciples of his old school-companion, had now, unfortunately exposedher to a danger he had not anticipated, as it never occurred to hisimagination, in its wildest fancies, that the reckless, dissolute SirPatrick, who had long sneered at marriage, and even broken that holytie for others, might find a charm in the pure, calm, high-mindedClara, which raised him above his ordinary self, and made him appearall she could most like or admire. During their earlier intercourse,she saw nothing in his conversation to disapprove, because Sir Patrickmost unintentionally deceived her into a belief of his being verydifferent from what he really was, owing to the respect with which hetreated all her opinions; and only when he talked to others, did shebecome startled occasionally by the tone of careless defiance withwhich he spoke of all those persons and things which she was mostaccustomed to reverence and esteem. Before long, his attachment hadbecome so unbounded, that, conscious he could not obtain Clara's handif she knew his real character, he assumed all that seemed most likelyto secure her confidence, and, for the pleasure of being with her,attended church regularly on Sunday at the village. Clara wasastonished at his evident ignorance of the forms of devotion; yetknowing his education had been finished by a clergyman, she supposedhe must have imbibed a due respect for the ordinances; while LadyTowercliffe, indulging her usual jobbing propensities, was enchantedto make up a match of any kind in her own house, and praised SirPatrick as the most immaculate and perfect of men.

  Clara's intimacy with Sir Patrick had been continually increasing forsome time, before his attention became so very obvious as to exciteher peculiar interest, or to make her conscious of a necessity forinquiring into the state of her own heart; but, upon doing so, shebecame instantly aware of the deep hold he had acquired over herthoughts and affections. His frank, off-hand, good-humored manner hadpleased her, his amusing conversation had enlivened her, and at lengthhis ardent professions of attachment interested her deeply, beingexpressed with all the eloquence of natural feeling.

  Clara, in the gloomy recesses of Mrs. Penfold's school-room, hadlearned nothing of the world, and her heart at once, therefore,endowed Sir Patrick with all those amiable qualities which he assumed,while she yielded herself to the most pleasing of all earthly dreams,that of loving and being beloved by one who seemed to deserve and toreturn her attachment; while her sole hesitation in accepting theoffer he soon after made of his hand, arose from her doubts, whether,in the chief essential to mutual happiness, in religious faith, hope,and morality, they were so far of similar mind as to afford awell-grounded prospect of happiness.

  In almost undoubting confidence of a satisfactory answer, Clara wroteto consult her brother, then studying for holy orders at Oxford,in whose opinion, on all occasions, she implicitly relied; and itwas with grief and astonishment, which no words could describe, thatshe received a reply, in which Mr. Granville, with affectionateearnestness, reproached himself for not having explicitly laid open toher the character of his former companion and _ci-devant_ friend, whowas, he grieved to say, a ruined gamester--a bankrupt in fame, as muchas in fortune, dreaded by the most respectable among women, and shunnedby the most respectable among men, even by his kind, indulgent, buthigh-minded uncle, Sir Arthur,--an open scoffer frequently at thedecencies of life, and still more at its most sacred duties and hopes."Sir Patrick makes no secret of his profligacy," continued Mr.Granville, "showing the most flagrant dishonesty in the only way agentleman can be tempted to do so, by not paying his debts, while manypoor tradesmen have already been ruined by his extravagance; and he hasopenly entered into a perfect crusade against religion and morality. Inshort, my dear Clara, Sir Patrick is by no means to be trusted with thehappiness of another, and least of all with yours, being a confirmedroue, still pursuing the very wildest career of unprincipleddissipation. Many have already had reason to mourn they ever trustedhim or knew him, for he is the very reverse of all you believe andwish. It would be extravagant to waste a hope upon the reformation of areckless libertine, who thus outrages every law of God and man; andoften have you and I agreed, that it was a thing not to be conceived, awoman who rightly valued her immortal soul placing herself under theauthority and influence of a husband who did not! The risk is toogreat; and
how much better to suffer now the sorrow of a separation,than to endure the long agony of an unsuitable union, for which yourown heart and conscience would continually upbraid you. If thetenderest affection of a brother can in any degree compensate for thesacrifice, you need not be told, my dear Clara, that I shall bestow itupon you more lavishly than ever; and it will be my first earthly wish,as well as my sacred duty, to render you happier than you could ever bewith a man of principles--, or rather of no principles,--like SirPatrick!"

  Had the grave opened at Clara's feet, she could scarcely have beenmore startled and astonished than by the contents of this mostunforeseen letter, the first unwelcome line ever received fromRichard. She could have borne anything but to find her loverunprincipled or unworthy; and a wintry chill seemed to gather roundher heart, while, with a stifled groan which struggled for utterance,she covered her face with her hand, and sank back upon a sofa. By apowerful effort, Clara preserved herself from fainting--she wasresolved not to faint, and she did not--but in the secret chamber ofher heart all was darkness, loneliness, and grief. Visions of earthlyhappiness had glittered for a time, in brightest coloring, before hermind; but now they must be blotted out by her tears. They all layprostrate and disfigured at her feet, scorched and blasted as if bylightning; and her heart, bewildered by a multitude of thoughts andemotions, seemed full almost to bursting.

  Clara wept many bitter tears over her letter, and she not only weptbut acted. Without delay, Clara prepared to return to the relationwith whom, during her brother's absence, she usually found a home; andbefore her departure, not only wrote to Sir Patrick, stating in termsof touching grief, all her reasons for so suddenly and unwillinglywithdrawing from her engagement to him; but she had a long and mostafflicting interview with him, vainly endeavoring to convince herlover, that their total incompatibility of sentiment raised a barrierbetween them, which forbade the possibility of their union.

  Sir Patrick became nearly frantic with vexation, while he could notbut admire the beautiful grace of her manner, and the sorrowfulmodulations of her voice when she spoke, yet unconscious howcompletely the gentle Clara was ruled by principle as with a sceptreof iron, he seemed utterly unable to comprehend why his talkingcarelessly, or even contemptuously of religion, should in any degreeaffect the preference which she had once confessed for him, and whichhe felt assured she still entertained. With passionate vehemence heurged the depth of his attachment, and his total indifference toeverything in life but herself, while he warmly protested that she,and she only, could complete the reformation which her own influencehad already begun.

  "You love me, Clara, and would cast me off for ever! Impossible! Letus forget all my early indiscretions--my vices, then, if it must beso--but why should every leaf of my past life be turned over now!Since we met I have been an altered being! I am astonished even atmyself! If I have deceived you, it is because I deceived myself, butnow I am entirely in your power. Use it then kindly, and forget allbut my attachment; I have staked my whole happiness in life on thehope of your accepting me. The wish to deserve you shall be asufficient motive to fit me for all the duties of life. Without you Ishall have no object, no hope, not even a home, for never more shall Ihave one unless you share it. Clara, let me throw myself on yourcompassion, if not on your love."

  "Oh no!" said Clara, hurriedly, yet with a look of pale and tearfuldistress, "I dare not hesitate! All must be as I have said. It will bemost for the happiness of both!"

  "Happiness! speak not to me of happiness without you! It is a mockery!Every tie to peace or virtue would then be ruptured."

  "There are better ties to virtue and stronger," whispered Clara, in afaltering voice, while she gasped for utterance, and a glow-likesunset was on her cheek.

  "No! no! not for me! There may be amusement, frivolity, gaiety, anddissipation; but I never understood the real meaning of happiness tillwe met. My whole thoughts, feelings, and character have beenrevolutionized to please you, Clara, but your influence alone couldsnatch me from evil--from myself--from all on which I have hithertowasted my existence. For your sake, and for yours alone, I could beall, and more than you wish. Years spent in your society shall provethe extent of your influence."

  "By trusting to such a hope, many, like me, have wrecked their wholepeace both now and hereafter," said Clara, trying to speak withfirmness, but her voice became almost inaudible. "If it were the samething to will as to do, I have not a doubt of your sincerity; but themere resolution to change established habits, unless the power bederived from above, is only an air-built castle to which I dare nottrust. It would be easy still to indulge myself in romantic schemes ofdomestic happiness, such as I have lately anticipated, but these hopescould only be blossoms without root or durability, unless they arisefrom firm principles of religion. Without such a cement happiness hasneither worth nor durability."

  "Clara! you have never loved as I do!" exclaimed Sir Patrickreproachfully. "I never did, and never can express half what I feel;but you do not yet know the heart you so cruelly undervalue! It seemsnow as if you would rather cut off your hand than bestow it on me!"

  "Perhaps in future years--" stammered Clara. "We are both young; andif, for your own sake, you alter in some respects, we might yet lookforward to--to----"

  "Speak not of delay! that is worse than death! I never in my lifecould endure suspense! No! it must--it shall be now, or never!"

  "Never, then," replied Clara, in a low, husky, indistinct voice,while, in spite of herself, tears rolled over her face. "It oughtindeed to be never! Forget me, as if I were already dead! I must onlyconsent to pass my life with a confirmed and consistent Christian,completely master of himself and of his actions. If we lived for eachother, I should have a thousand anxieties, regrets, and sorrows, whichyou could neither foresee nor understand! Oh no! I must only love onearth one whom I may hope to love hereafter for ever!"

  "Must it be my misfortune, Clara, to have known you?" exclaimed SirPatrick, with agitated energy. "Do you not see that with me, to knowexcellence is to love it, and that if we were constantly together, Ishould always be like you. The loss of honor, fortune, or reputation,I might endure; but your loss I cannot, and will not. Tell me, then,are my whole affections to be buried in darkness, never to see adawn?"

  "If my happiness in this world only were at hazard, I would ventureall for your sake?" replied Clara, in a low, gentle, tremulous voice."I feel grateful for your attachment--more than grateful; but marriageis so very awful and sacred a tie! to devote every early thought,every feeling, every hope, every hour of my life to one! I could notand dare not enter on such a duty, without a perfect and unalterableconfidence. I feel that to be united in love and duty where I did notesteem is a misfortune I could not survive--which I could scarcelyeven wish to survive. In giving you my heart, as I have already done,I ventured my all of worldly happiness on that one stake, and havelost it; but there are better hopes and higher duties, which bind meto follow them, even though death were the consequence."

  Sir Patrick clenched his hands vehemently together, while hiscountenance burned, and muttering a curse between his teeth, whichchilled the blood of Clara in her veins, he walked about the room withrapidly-increasing excitement, till at length stopping before her, hesaid, in accents of angry reproach, "You have spoken my doom, Clara,and only from your own lips would I have believed it."

  Clara buried her face in her hands, and feeling that her high-wroughtfortitude was giving way, she hurried towards the door; but as shetremblingly endeavored to open it, Sir Patrick again seized her hand,saying, "You are mine, Clara; you are bound by a promise that must notbe broken!"

  "I shall never give myself to another," said she, still hasteningaway. "Be happy in making others happy. May you yet find one who lovesyou as I have done, and who shall not hereafter find the same reasonsfor giving you up. I shall pray for you, and rejoice in all the good Ihear. Farewell."

  No words could do justice to the silent agony of Clara's young heart,when, in solitary grief, she retraced her wh
ole intimacy with SirPatrick, and reflected that she had bid a last adieu to one whom shemust not esteem, and yet could not but love. All that this world couldoffer she had rejected for conscience sake. A cold frost seemed togather around her spirit, while, trembling and depressed, she viewedthe desolation of all her lately cherished hopes; and amidst theruined fabric of her happiness, she now seemed like some solitarypillar, surrounded by the broken fragments of what once supported andadorned it; yet summoning to her aid that Christian firmness, which inher amounted to heroism, she gazed on the shattered wreck without awish to restore it at the sacrifice of principle, determined, as faras her sensitive nature would admit, to adopt the rule of an aged andexperienced Christian, "Hope nothing, fear nothing, expect anything,and be prepared for everything!"