Duty and Inclination/Chapter 11
CHAPTER XI.
"Love, the desire of Gods! the feast of heaven!
Yet to earth's favor'd offsping not denied!
Ah, let not thankless man the blessing given
Enslave to fame, or sacrifice to pride."
De Brooke was received by Sir Aubrey, if not with cordiality, at least with a demeanour free from his accustomed moroseness.
"I have sent for you," said he, "to congratulate you upon some good news, of which I have been myself but a few hours informed; and which is, that you may expect in a few days to see your name gazetted in the list of Colonels."
Such intelligence, though not altogether unexpected, was not the less agreeable, and could not but be received by De Brooke with suitable demonstrations of joy; and, supposing that his father might have been accessory to this his good fortune, he was about to express his thanks, when, waving his hand, Sir Aubrey hastily returned; "No, no, it is not to me that you are obliged; I know nothing of the business; I have by no means been instrumental to it: your name, I suppose, has been included amongst those who had a right to expect promotion; and more particularly yourself, on account of your recent services in Portugal."
Some officious friends of Sir Aubrey, acting as it were like spies upon the conduct of his son, and loving to represent defects through the magnifying glass of calumny, had not failed, from time to time, to make reports to his father relative to his various extravagances; others again, in consideration of his many better qualities, or, from motives of benevolence, endeavoured, if not to extenuate them, at least to throw over them the veil of charity: nevertheless, from the entanglement of his affairs, they had become but too plainly obvious to Sir Aubrey; and his mind in consequence laboured under impressions of a nature not to allow him openly to acknowledge that it was by any intercession of his that his son's promotion had been obtained. Thus, whatever might be the secret motive of Sir Aubrey in forwarding the welfare of his son, he was very far from receiving gratification in the thanks due to him for so doing.
The breach of confidence and attachment existing between Sir Aubrey and his son, was to be repaired but by the compliance of the latter with one sole condition, and he felt a repugnance to any circumstance, so long as this remained unaccomplished, carrying with it an appearance of reconciliation.
In hearing from his father the flattering tidings of his advancement, De Brooke had been sensible of elation; but how quickly did such a feeling vanish, upon perceiving Sir Aubrey's indifference manifested, notwithstanding his professions of congratulation, by his regulated tones, and cold expression of his countenance! his mind then naturally recurred to the embarrassed state of his finances. His newly-acquired rank would bring with it a desirable acquisition to his income; but it would not yield him those more immediate resources of which he stood in such absolute need. Sir Aubrey touched upon subjects as unimportant as they were uninteresting: De Brooke sought to assume a complacency foreign to him: thus each seemed labouring under a forced restraint, as if occupied with thoughts they wished, yet forbore to express.
At last, after an interval of silence, Sir Aubrey in accents denoting displeasure, but which he essayed to modify, said: "Upon your return from Portugal, Aubrey, you were perfectly free from any incumbrance or debt whatsoever. That you have, since that period, and during a course of years, launched into thoughtless expenses and actions, in every way unworthy of my son, from whom a very different conduct might have been expected, your present difficulties testify. Of such I have received information, and it remains for me only to hope the detail has been exaggerated."
Dispirited and perplexed, De Brooke hesitatingly replied: "It is but too true, sir, I stand convicted; I can but avow my error by the confession, that I have unfortunately learned wisdom, alas! too late, I have already made retrenchments, and I trust, by further economies, I shall in a short time recover my losses."
"I imagine", said Sir Aubrey, "that you blind yourself with false expectations:" but after a pause, during which he seemed revolving some important point, he added; "Attend to me, Aubrey; attend to the proposals I am going to make you; if you disregard them, you alienate yourself from me for ever! If you follow them, and the measures I shall prescribe, you will reinstate yourself in my good opinion; you will entirely restore yourself to my lost favour and esteem: my purse is yours, you may command it; your present embarrassments shall be mine, no matter to what extent; I will set you free from them all. You will thence rise from the mists by which you are now surrounded, to view before you an open and fair day, full of honours, grandeurs, dignities, such as I myself enjoy: decide;" said he, whilst he fixed upon De Brooke his eye, animated by the exaltation of pride; "it remains for you to make the choice!"
An appeal, which spoke so powerfully to his feelings, from a father who had hitherto conducted himself with such disdain towards him, operated irresistibly to charm the mind of De Brooke.
"Good heavens!" he ejaculated, "grant that it may be in my power to comply,—that I may merit that reward above all so flattering, so dear to the filial tenderness of my heart, a perfect reconciliation with my father! Proceed, sir", continued he: "believe me, it is my most ardent hope, my most unbounded desire, to conform myself in every respect to your wishes."
Sir Aubrey reddened. He feared by this emphatic reply of his son, that he was wholly unprepared for the sacrifice he was about demanding of him, the sole condition on which depended a return to his favour and promised recompense. Nevertheless, strongly bent upon carrying his point, and rendering his son entirely subservient to his views, with a voice deep and inflexible, he said; "Without entering upon further preface, I shall state at once to you, Aubrey, that it is a disgraceful passion I urge you to subdue; a passion which holds you in bondage, closes the world against you, robs you of every advantage, and, above all, of your father's friendship."
De Brooke started. To what insidious calumny had his father listened, or to what peculiar passion did he allude? He had no reproaches to make himself, excepting on the score of prodigality.
"No man," continued Sir Aubrey, "was ever guilty of greater weakness, of greater folly, was ever more blind to his proper interests: had you been guided more by reason, and less by the love of pleasure, instead of yielding to so fatal an infatuation, you would have exerted all your powers to have resisted it."
Still ambiguous as was Sir Aubrey in all he said, De Brooke could only apply his language to that which most prevailed over his thoughts, the deranged state of his finances. In begging, therefore, his father to spare his further rebukes, he added; "Having already abjured my errors, sir, I am resolved my future conduct shall testify the sincerity of my reformation."
"It is what I ardently hope," resumed Sir Aubrey, softening the asperity of his accents; "and I trust I shall not be deceived. I am not so much surprised that the novelty of rustic charms might for a time have fascinated your attention, as that you should have persevered in yielding yourself so devotedly her captive, during an interval now of some years."
Pale, speechless with the emotions that rushed upon his heart, De Brooke then but too clearly saw the drift of his father's argument. "I find also," continued Sir Aubrey, regardless of the sudden change so obvious in his son, "that you have the misery to be encumbered with a child, perhaps children; they must of course be provided for; but happily the ways of doing so, for children of such a description, are many, and but little expensive."
Had Sir Aubrey spoken from his real feelings, he would openly and at once, have recommended his son's illegitimate children, as he supposed them, to be sent to the parish! Fearing, however, to excite indignation, rather than docility to his wishes, he wisely checked himself.
De Brooke struggled for utterance, but, completely subdued by the violence of his agitation, remained silent.
"Aubrey! Aubrey!" exclaimed the father, perceiving the conflict, "act as a man, as my son; for once in your life, show firmness, resolution, a decision of character, when an occasion so important, necessity so imperious, demands it of you. Sooner or later a breach must be effected; why not now? send the girl back to the country whence you have brought her; her child along with her; and trust me, the means shall not be withheld towards the furnishing them with an adequate subsistence." Expecting a reply, he paused; but impatient at not receiving any, nor even the thanks due to a promise, as he conceived, at once kind, condescending and generous, he passionately exclaimed, "You are now made acquainted with my terms, sir; choose,—do you resign your mistress or your father? speak, and put an end to this fruitless silence."
With a mixed feeling of disdain and sorrow, too big to find its vent in language, De Brooke had listened to the finish of his father's heart-rending speech; when, clasping his hands together, with looks of agony he articulated; "Your words, sir, act as so many poniards to my heart; you speak of my Angelina, (for I presume it is her you mean) as if she were no better than the female who proffers herself to abandoned pleasures; and my child—"
"Hold!" interrupted Sir Aubrey; "not so; a distinction is due; her first derogation from virtue doubtless originated in yourself; this I will admit; but at the same time must freely tell you, that there is but one way of redressing the injury you have done her, and which is by ceasing to live with her; by sending her back to the country, and restoring her to the simple manners to which she has been accustomed; and by so doing, her lost honour may not be altogether irrecoverable, or without resource."
"In what an abyss of misery am I plunged!", again ejaculated De Brooke. "Powers of mercy! what a mistake, what a fatal mistake, you have laboured under, sir!"
Endeavouring to allay the disorder of his mind, he thenwith breathless energy entered into a brief detail of every circumstance relating to his marriage, the parentage of his wife; and glowing with enthusiasm by the retrospect of scenes dear to his memory, the personal and mental graces of Angelina coming so enhanced to him by the charms of her innocence and virtue, still he would have expatiated upon her perfections, had he not been checked in his utterance by the aspect of Sir Aubrey, who, proud, indignant, lowering, paced with hasty strides his chamber; till, abruptly stopping before his unhappy son, and fixing his enraged and penetrating eyes upon him, a torrent of invective seemed ready to burst from his quivering lips, but again averting his gaze, and turning suddenly away, whilst measuring his steps, the violence of his rage burst inward; finding vent in terms deep, smothered and incoherent. The space of a few minutes thus elapsed, and De Brooke hesitated whether he should attempt to appease his wrath, by again pleading his suit; to raise his voice, however, he found impossible, so formidable seemed the pause; which at last was broken by Sir Aubrey loudly denouncing imprecations upon his son. He then violently flung open a door, closed it after him, and disappeared.
Thus in a fit of passion, as was usual with Sir Aubrey, terminated this dispute, leaving De Brooke in a state easier to conjecture than describe. "A father's curse!" he inwardly exclaimed; "my offence—is it of so great a magnitude to wed without a parent's knowledge? does it merit a parent's curse?" He fervently prayed it might not; and becoming less perturbed by the feelings which insinuated themselves, he left the house.
However Sir Aubrey might be aware of the rash and hasty character of his son, he was nevertheless far from supposing him so wholly lost and blind to his future interests, as at once to have plunged himself into disasters of such an accumulated nature, as those which he had gathered around him. The new discovery he had made of his having married without his approbation, was a circumstance, that even in his calmer moments he felt he never could forgive; and when he considered to whom he had thus bound himself, then indeed his animosity was raised to its utmost pitch of aggravation: he had given himself to one, who in a worldly sense, possessed not a single recommendation; but, above all, to crown his indignation, he had given himself to one who, from the ambiguity of the explanation made him during a former interview, he had been led to conclude had first stooped to that state which for ever degrades the sex; a consideration how powerfully adapted to enforce the conviction, that in despite of every temptation, incitement or seduction to overcome, nothing ought to be held so inviolably sacred, to be prized even beyond existence, as a chaste, unsullied fame!
But whilst under the influence of this gross delusion, Sir Aubrey had been occasionally tranquillized, in giving way to suggestions that afforded some mitigation to his injured pride. He had allowed himself to hope that the time might arrive when, as is frequently the case, some other favourite, possessing the charm of novelty, might withdraw his son from the fascinations which then enslaved him; on the other hand, there was nothing he had so much dreaded, as the long-continued ascendency of Angelina over his affections, arising from the fatal anticipation that marriage might be the result; and at once not only finally extinguish his hopes for the future, but also, of what he could never think of but With the utmost degree of rage, tarnish his high name, transmitting it to a race degenerate and unworthy!
Under the influence of these predominating feelings he had sent for his son, if, possibly, ere it became too late, by holding out a recompense, proportionate to the sacrifice he was about to require of him, he might induce him to relinquish for ever her, for whom he felt such an inveterate aversion, as interposing herself between his lofty ambition and those towering views of grandeur which had so long become the sole and ruling desire of his heart. The newly-acquired rank he had to announce to his son, he vainly supposed might have brought with it that elation of mind, which might prove the necessity of uniting fortune to rank; and in consequence conduct him to the choice of a partner, who might bestow upon him this (in Sir Aubrey's opinion) most important and essential acquisition. But when, from his son's own confession, he was given to behold, in all its aggravated colours, the realization of the much-dreaded event, involving the total destruction of his most cherished hopes and projects, as well as a breach of filial respect and duty towards a parent always desirous of bestowing upon his son every advantage in his power, it is not surprising, in the depth of injured and wounded self-love, that his unhappy son became for ever alienated from his place in his affections, and that the rigour of his resentment never ceased to manifest itself, even to the latest period of his existence.