‘I will go myself, General,’ said Orlando. ‘I thank you,’ cried Tracy, affecting great unconcern, ‘but I dare say it is nothing worth your troubling yourself to go out for.’
Orlando, however, went out, and instantly returned bringing with him Captain Warwick.
Surprise was visible on the faces of all the party, but that of General Tracy expressed consternation - Why Warwick came he could not conjecture; but he felt it to be extremely disagreeable to him that he came at all. Warwick was covered with dust, and had that wild and fatigued look that announces tumult of spirit from an hot and rapid journey. The person, however, that nature had given him, was such as no disadvantageous circumstance could obscure. He looked like a young hero just returned unhurt from the field to recount its triumphs.
After addressing his uncle, and being introduced to Mr and Mrs Somerive, he turned gaily to Orlando, and, shaking him by the hand, said, ‘I don’t know, my friend, how you can ever forgive the man whose fortune it is to announce to you that you must quit immediately such a circle of friends as I now find you in!’
‘Quit them!’ exclaimed Mrs Somerive. ‘Quit us! leave us!’ cried her husband. – ‘Yes, indeed!’ answered Warwick with less vivacity: ‘That part of our regiment which is in England, consisting of two companies, is ordered to join the troops that are going thither, and are to sail from Portsmouth next week. The moment I was sure of this, which was not till late last night, I thought it best to come down myself; because the time is so short that my friend here, the young ancient 3, had better proceed immediately from hence to Portsmouth.’
Never was a greater, a more sudden change, than these few words made in the dispositions of all present – except Tracy, whose only distress was the appearance of Warwick, where he so little wished to see him. Mrs Somerive, struck to the heart by the cruel idea of losing Orlando, retired in silent tears; and her daughters, little less affected, followed her. Somerive bore this painful intelligence with more apparent fortitude; but he felt it with even greater severity, and with something like a prepossession that he should never see Orlando again if he left England. He stifled, however, his emotions, and endeavoured to do the honours of his house to his unexpected visitor; but the effort was too painful to be long supported, and in a few moments he left the room, saying to Orlando, that as the General and Captain Warwick might perhaps have some business, they would leave them together.
CHAPTER IX
MR SOMERIVE threw himself into a chair, and, clasping his hands eagerly together, exclaimed, ‘Good God! what is to be done now?’
‘Nothing, my dear Sir,’ replied Orlando, ‘can or ought to be done, but for me to obey the orders I have received; and, I beseech you, do not suffer a matter so much in course, or which might have been so easily forseen, to make you unhappy!’
‘What will become of me,’ cried Somerville wildly, ‘when you, Orlando, are gone? – And your brother, your unhappy brother! is a misery rather than a protection to your sisters, to your mother . . . !’
‘They will want no protector, Sir,’ said Orlando, much affected by his father’s distress, ‘while you live – and . . . !’
‘That will be but a very little while, my son! the cruelty of your brother has broken my heart! While you were all that could make me amends, the wound, however incurable, was not immediately mortal; but now – !’
He put his hands on his heart, as if he really felt there the incurable wound he described bleed afresh. Orlando, concealing his own concern as well as he could, endeavoured to sooth his father, by representing to him that this was always likely to happen, and that probably a few months would restore him to his family. – Somerive listened to nothing but his own overwhelming apprehensions, and cast his thoughts around to every remedy that might be applied to so great an evil. The assurance General Tracy had given him that there was no likelihood Orlando should be sent abroad, now appeared a cruel deception, which had betrayed him into such folly and rashness as sending into the army that son on whom rested all the dependence of his family. – Bitterly repenting what he could not now recall, he caught at the hope that Mrs Rayland might interpose to prevent her favourite’s being exposed to the dangers of an American campaign –
‘You cannot go,’ cried Somerive, after a moment’s pause; ‘Mrs Rayland will never suffer it – it will be renouncing all the advantages she offers you.’
‘I must then renounce them, Sir,’ said Orlando; ‘because I must otherwise renounce my honour. – What figure, I beseech you, would a man make, who having in December accepted a commission, should resign it in May because he is ordered abroad? My dear Sir, could you wish such an instance should happen in the person of your Orlando?’
The unhappy father could not but acknowledge the truth of what Orlando said; but his heart, still unable to resist the pain inflicted by the idea of losing him, clung involuntarily to the hope that the attachment of Mrs Rayland might furnish him with an excuse for withdrawing from the army, and the greatness of the object for which he staid justify his doing so to the world. – Orlando in vain contended that this could not be, and besought his father not to give to his mother any expectations that it could – ‘Consider, Sir,’ said he, ‘that my mother will suffer enough; and let us try rather to soften those sufferings than to aggravate them by suspense, and by those fallacious hopes which will serve only to irritate her concern: when my going to whither my duty calls me is known to be inevitable, my mother, with all her tenderness of heart, is too reasonable either fruitlessly to oppose or immeasurably to lament it – she would despise a young man who shrunk from his profession because there was danger in it, and, I am sure, affectionate as she is, would rather see her son dead with honour, than living under the stigma of cowardice!’
‘I believe you are right, Orlando,’ replied Somerive; ‘and I will endeavour, my son, to conquer this selfish weakness. – But Mrs Rayland, it is necessary you immediately see her.’ – ‘I shall go thither to-night, Sir,’ said Orlando, ‘that I may wait upon her early in the morning; but do not, I entreat you, harbour an idea that Mrs Rayland will even wish to prevent my departure.’
Somerive now, at the earnest entreaty of Orlando, promised to compose himself before he went to his wife and daughters, and not to encourage their want of fortitude, by shewing himself wholly deficient in it. He then wished him good night, saying, that he would speak a few words to Captain Warwick, and then go to the Hall.
Somerive retired with an oppressed heart; and Orlando entreated Warwick to walk with him part of the way. He then heard that he must go to Portsmouth within two days; and Warwick, who spoke of it with all the indifference of a soldier long used to these sudden orders, proceeded to talk of other matters. – ‘Do you know,’ said he, ‘that I am in love with all your sisters, my friend? but particularly with my future aunt? – Orlando, I shall be a very loving nephew. – What eyes the rogue has! – Egad, I shall be always commending the Portuguese fashion of marrying one’s aunt – that is, if our old boy should have the conscience to make an honourable retreat.’
‘You are a happy man, Warwick,’ answered Orlando: ‘How lightly you can talk of what would depress half the young fellows in England – the chance of losing such a fortune as the General’s marriage may deprive you of!’
‘Oh, hang it!’ replied Warwick, ‘’tis not the fortune I mind, for I suppose I shall have some of it at last, unless some little cousins should have the ill nature to appear against me; but I hate that such a lovely girl as this Isabella of yours should be sacrificed to my poor old uncle, whom, if you could see him in the morning, before he is, like Lord Ogleby, wound up for the day, you would vote to be much fitter for flannels and a good old nurse, than for a husband to a girl of nineteen – and such a girl! upon my soul, she is a little divinity!’
‘Not half so interesting in my mind,’ said Orlando, ‘as the soft, sensible Selina.’
‘You are no judge of your sisters – Selina, that is I suppose the second, is a beautiful Madonna;
but Isabella, my most respectable aunt, is a Thalia, a Euphrosyne. – I have a great notion, Somerive, that she would prefer the nephew to the uncle – I have half a mind to try.’
‘There is hardly time for the experiment, I fear,’ answered Orlando; who made an effort to be as unconcerned as his friend.
‘Not time!’ cried Warwick. ‘Yes, there is time enough to a soldier accustomed to carry every point by a coup de main – I own, indeed, for an approach by sap I should be too much limited. – Orlando, shall I try my military skill? have I your leave? – Or should you object to exchange the intended grave Governor for the Soldier of fortune?’
‘Not I, indeed,’ answered Orlando; ‘you have my permission, Warwick – and so now I will wish you good night; for, if I take you any farther, you will not find your way back.’
‘Trust that to me, Orlando.’ answered his friend; ‘I am used to reconnoitre in all lights, from the golden rays of Phoebus to the accommodating beams of the paper lantern of an apple-woman at the corner of a street in a country town. – But whither art going, my friend? for that is a question which I set forth without asking.’
‘To the Hall,’ replied Orlando.
‘To the Hall! – and to the turret of that Hall! – Oh! you happy dog!’ –
‘Monimia – my angel! – It was not kind
To leave me like a turtle here alone!’
‘Hah, my friend! has your sweet nymph of the enchanted tower no para-nymph that you could introduce me to? It will be horribly flat for me to go back, to go to my solitary couch, and envy you here, and my prosperous uncle there – I shall hang myself before morning.’
Orlando, hurt at this light way of naming Monimia, answered rather coldly, ‘Your spirits are really enviable, Warwick; but do not let them hurry you into a persuasion that I am happy enough now to be amused with them, pleasant as they are!’
‘Why, what the devil’s the matter with you?’ answered Warwick; ‘you are not going to turn parson, I trow? But really so dolorous a tone is fit only for the pulpit of a methodist. – Why what makes you unhappy, when such a girl as you describe Monimia –’
Orlando interrupted him warmly – ‘You are determined to mistake me, Captain Warwick! Whatever confidence I have reposed in you in regard to Monimia, surely I have never said any thing that should authorise you to speak thus lightly of her. It is true that I love her passionately, that her heart is mine; but if you suppose –’
‘Pooh, pooh! I suppose nothing – Pr’ythee do not be so grave about your little Hero, my dear Leander!’ – Then assuming a more serious tone, he added: ‘But, upon my soul, I mean nothing offensive, my friend; and rattled as much to disguise my own heaviness as to divert yours, for I have left people with whom I should much rather have remained a little longer, and that without having time to attempt consoling the gentle heart that is breaking for me.’ He then communicated to Orlando an intrigue in which he had engaged after he left him. Orlando represented to him all the cruelty and folly of his conduct. – ‘Oh! yes,’ cried Warwick; ‘all that you say is very wise and very true, and it must be owned that it comes with peculiar propriety from you, my most sage friend! – Now that we are within sight of the Hall, for, if I mistake not, that great building which is before us is the abode of the sybil whose rent-roll exceeds in value the famous leaves of antiquity, and of the fair vestal, who –’
‘Nay, nay!’ cried Orlando, ‘you are beginning again; I will not stay to hear you.’
‘Only let me go with you to the next rise,’ answered Warwick; ‘only shew me the light from the turret, and I will be content:
‘It is the East – and Juliet is the Sun!’
And then I will go back like a miserable wretch as I am, and try to dream of my future aunt.’
‘Rather try not to dream of her,’ said Orlando; ‘upon my honour, Warwick, this gaieté de coeur of yours excites at once my envy and my fear.’
‘Oh! a soldier, and afraid! – What, do you think I shall release the General’s fair prisoner, and, like an undutiful nephew, escape from the garrison with the old boy’s prize?’
‘No, no, Warwick, I have no such apprehensions; but,’ – ‘But what? Egad, my friend, considered in a political light, it is clear to me that this is the very best thing I could do. – But behold the venerable towers of Rayland Hall!
‘Ye distant spires, ye antique towers
That crown the woody glade,
Where fond Orlando still adores
The sweet imprison’d maid!’
Give me a moment’s time,’ added Warwick, pausing – ‘but a moment, and I will make for you a parody on the whole 4.’
‘You are intolerable, Warwick,’ cried Orlando, ‘and I positively will endure you no longer!’ – ‘Yes, a little longer,’ said Warwick; ‘let me finish my parody; I tell you I am in a fortunate vein. – You, Orlando, who are yourself a poet, would you be tasteless enough to check a man inspired? – Listen, I am going on –’
‘Nay, but this is sad trifling, my dear Warwick! and what is worse, you will really be heard from the house, which will not be a trifling inconvenience. Besides, upon my honour, your returning so late across the park is unsafe; for, when the old butler has no reasons of his own to have them kept up, there are three fierce blood-hounds let loose to range over it all night, and they would not fail to seize any stranger.’
‘D – n your blood-hounds! – Pr’ythee, Orlando, do you think I am not accustomed to guards of all sorts, and have encountered the mastiff dog, and the dragon aunt, in twenty scrambling adventures?’
‘I do not doubt your prowess,’ replied Orlando; ‘but here, as there is no reward, why should you exert it?’
‘Mais seulement pour me tenir en baleine, mon ami, et pour passer le temps – But, however, if it is seriously inconvenient to you, I will go. – Come, now, to be serious – at what time to-morrow shall you be at your father’s?’
‘Long before you are awake probably, for you know you are never very alert in a morning.’
‘Not when I have nothing to do; but, pray, are your family early risers? At what hour may I ask, by anticipation, the blessing of my blooming aunt?’
‘That you must discover, for it is very uncertain – and now, Warwick, once more good night!’
‘Good night! O most fortunate and valorous Orlando of the enchanted castle!’
Orlando then gave his light-hearted friend directions to find his way back, and when he left him, advanced slowly towards the house, from which he was not above three hundred yards distant.
His mind, which had been at first distracted by the distress of his father, and since harassed by the ill-timed raillery of his friend, now returned to those bitter reflections which arose from the certainty of his being immediately to take a long leave of Monimia, and under the cruel necessity of telling her so. But a few hours since he looked forward to the pleasure of meeting Monimia with only tidings of satisfaction and hope; now, he was to meet her, only to tell her that they were to part so soon, never perhaps to meet again!
He now entered his Study (for one of the servants sat up to let him in), and endeavoured to collect himself enough to communicate what he had to say to Monimia, without too much shocking her. But when he thought that their next meeting might be the last they should ever have, his own courage forsook him, and he dreaded lest he should be quite unable to sustain hers.
The hour soon came when he knew she expected him; and he trembled as he led her down the stairs. At length, since it was impossible to disguise from her those emotions which agitated his mind, he related to her all the occurrences of the eventful day, and the necessity there was for his preparing himself the next day, and taking leave of this part of the country the day following.
Monimia could not shed tears; her heart seemed petrified by the greatness and suddenness of the blow, which fell with more force, because their last interview had been so little embittered by fears or broken by alarms. When, however, Orlando explained to her, that this hono
ur would be irreparably injured if he even expressed any reluctance to enter on the active parts of the profession he had engaged in, and that to attempt disengaging himself now would be a blemish on his character from which he could never recover, her good sense, and her true tenderness for him, gave her some degree of composure, and even of resolution. As he declared that he felt nothing so severely as leaving her – leaving her unprotected, and almost alone in the world, she nobly struggled to conceal her own anguish, that she might not aggravate his; and, since his going was inevitable, endeavoured not to depress, by her fears, that spirit with which it was necessary for him to go.
Orlando, as much charmed by her sense as her affection, became ashamed of betraying less tender resolution than a timid uninformed girl. She taught him how to repress his concern; and this interview, instead of increasing his regret, fortified his mind against it. Monimia remained with him a less time than usual – with faltering lips he entreated her to meet him again the next night, because it would be the last. – Monimia, unable to articulate, assented only by a broken sigh! and Orlando retired to his bed, where sleep absolutely refused to indulge him with a few hours of forgetfulness till towards morning.
When he had told Warwick that he should be at his father’s house early in the morning, he forgot that he should be detained by the necessity he was under to attend Mrs Rayland. He sent up for permission to wait upon her at breakfast, which was immediately granted; and he opened to her, as soon as he was admitted, the reason of this early visit, and the necessity he was under to take leave of her the next day, to join his regiment in America.
Mrs Rayland expressed more surprise than concern at this information: accustomed, from early impressions, to high ideas of the military glory of her ancestors, and considering the Americans as rebels and round heads, to conquer them seemed to her to be not only a national cause, but one in which her family were particularly bound to engage. – She had contemplated only the honours, and thought little of the dangers of war. The trophies that surrounded the picture of her warlike grandfather Sir Orlando, and the honourable mention that was made of his prowess in the family annals, seemed to her ample compensation for a wound in his leg, which had made him a little lame for the rest of his life. Of Orlando’s personal danger, therefore, she had, as he expected, no apprehensions, and was rather desirous he should justify her partiality to him, by emulating the fame of the heroes of her family, then afraid of what might happen in the experiment.
Charlotte Smith- Collected Poetical Works Page 131
