Duty and Inclination/Chapter 9
CHAPTER IX.
"In vain to seek in man for more than man."
De Brooke, being an officer in the Guards, found himself under the necessity of fixing his residence in London—a circumstance he much regretted, and would have gladly avoided; as, by subjecting his conduct to the immediate inspection of Sir Aubrey, it greatly militated against the design he had formed of keeping his marriage, as long as it was possible, a secret. To have disposed of himself for life, under age, in the bonds of matrimony, without having afforded his father the slightest intimation of the sacrifice—and that to an object, however transcendent her worth or dear to his affections, possessing neither friends nor fortune—taken from a remote obscurity—unknown to any—was an event, that, whenever his destiny should reveal, would most essentially tend, he was well persuaded, to the injury of his future fortune.
Unthinking as we have described De Brooke in so important an action of his life as marriage, though his conscience acquitted him of any very serious or flagrant evil; yet he could not conceal from himself, that however harsh the conduct of his father had ever been to him, he had been culpable in that want of due regard and respect incumbent upon a son. It would thence, he well knew, be justly said to his discredit, that he had neglected parental authority to a degree scarcely to be sanctioned, had he progressed to years beyond those he then numbered. But, however seriously he reflected upon the subject, the illegality of the step he had taken never entered into his most remote conception.
After, therefore, his leave of absence had expired, and he was necessitated to return to the capital, he judged it necessary to break to Angelina, with as much delicacy as possible, the circumstance of his having deceived her father into the belief that he had obtained the consent of Sir Aubrey to his marriage with her. His affection for her, he assured her, was founded on the purest conjugal love; and, justified by the goodness of his intentions, the urgency and peculiarity of his case, he had conceived such a deception necessary, in order to evade consequences the most fatal to his hopes.
As it may be easily imagined such a disclosure was greatly calculated to afflict Angelina, De Brooke gave her every assurance that the concealment of his union would be but temporary. Having so far arranged this concern, the next was to sequester his Angelina in as much privacy as possible. Alas! had he attended to the suggestions of his heart, and self-approvals, in having selected her from the world under motives so disinterested and generous, he would have pursued a very different plan; he would have given immediate publicity to his marriage, exulting in the choice he had made. The pride of the husband could not have been more gratified, than by displaying at once, to an admiring world, his young, interesting, and blooming bride, in all the native lustre of personal and mental charms. Why, with a heart accustomed hitherto to follow the guidance of its own generous dictates, why did a mistaken judgment interfere to lead him from an act of honour and uprightness—to form so unfortunate, so fatal a decision? The dread of incurring the frown of Sir Aubrey—of encountering that formidable sternness, those severe rebukes, which, in his days of youth, made their strong impression, and, even in maturer years, struck the same terror over his imagination; but which, in the present important crisis of his fate, connected with the future peace of Angelina, instead of flying from, he should have sought rather to have mitigated and softened.
He hired small lodgings at Kennington, the situation being healthy and airy; which would afford to Angelina the society of a Mr. and Mrs. Philimore, residing in the neighbourhood, with whom he had been intimately associated previous to his embarkation for Portugal.
Mrs. Philimore, to a truly amiable character, united gay and affable manners; rendering more apparent the congeniality between her and Angelina. As the mother of several children, he was much attached to her home; and her newly-acquired young friend, equally delighting in domestic scenes, participated in the demands her little ones made upon her care and tenderness. This growing attachment between Mrs. Philimore and his wife was to De Brooke a subject of gratification, foreseeing that thence might arise to the latter many desirable resources.
Having established himself in his new abode, duty required of him to call upon his father, then shining in the full meridian of fame,—high in honours, caressed at court, the favourite of his sovereign. The worldly parent received his son with an air more gracious than was customary: he welcomed him by an address consonant to the warm feelings of De Brooke, whose bosom's throb evinced that his filial affection was far from being extinguished; that still he honoured and revered his parent. He felt seized with a desire to throw off all concealment, to declare his marriage, and the powerful motives which had led him to take so precipitate a step. Scarcely, however, was the idea suggested, than it was suppressed. A secret impulse he could not conquer, exciting an awful dread of his father's displeasure, still closed his lips, and enforced his silence.
The satisfaction of Sir Aubrey upon seeing his son proceeded from a favourite scheme he had been meditating, which had for its object, through the medium of De Brooke, the gratification of his pride; and whatever was presented through that channel, from his notions of prudence, and the inflexibility of his character, was adhered to pertinaciously. The polished grace with which De Brooke had presented himself did not pass from Sir Aubrey's observation without an inward pleasure. His son already held a rank in the army such as young noblemen were emulous of obtaining; and, through his high favour at court, the king had graciously promised that his son, Captain De Brooke, should be promoted to the first colonelcy falling vacant. What more immediately, however, at that moment occupied his thoughts, was a matrimonial connection for his son with a lady of family, but of more distinguished fortune. Her person was unexceptionable; and he entertained not the slightest doubt but that De Brooke, on his naming her, would be instantly desirous to bend the knee and pay homage to this fair being—a prize so valuable, and in every respect worthy of his highest ambition.
With an aspect the most agreeable Sir Aubrey proceeded to state the infinite advantages to be derived from this contemplated union, while De Brooke, wholly unprepared for such an attack upon his feelings, by a proposition so new and distressing, became lost in perplexity and dismay. The warm eulogium passed by Sir Aubrey upon the object of his selection, proved how, deeply interested he was in the fulfilment of his views. That any obstacle could arise to oppose those views he had not admitted even of a possibility; and much less on the part of his son, who, he imagined, had but to hear, to obey, to solicit, and to obtain. With surprise and anger, therefore, he marked the embarrassment, the inward vexation, in which his son seemed plunged, from the moment he began to intimate, and while continuing to urge, his proposition.
"You seem, sir", said he, with a look of sternness, "rather dissatisfied than otherwise at the pains I take to promote your welfare. I am unwise, I find, in so doing: deemed officious, I neither receive gratitude nor thanks. The sooner I cease to intermeddle, the better."
"Spare me, spare me," replied the son. "Not so, believe me, my dear sir. I am sensible of the kind interest you take in my concerns—,but"—The brow of Sir Aubrey became more contracted, while, with restless irritability, he attended to the disclosure which was to follow "but—at present—I have no wish—" De Brooke still hesitated; he knew not how to proceed: the dread of discovery, and the consciousness of the duplicity he was practising, caused him to labour under a confusion the most embarrassing. "Sir", continued he, "will you pardon me for the present? That I have not seemed duly thankful and pleased at your proposal is owing to the suddenness—I was entirely unprepared."
"For which reason," returned Sir Aubrey, with impetuosity, "you have not had leisure to frame falsehoods to deceive me. I cannot suppose you quite so weak as you profess to be. Even a whining, silly girl could only say,—'Allow me leisure to deliberate—marriage is a serious affair—I must have time to consider;' with such like superfluous fooleries unbecoming your age and sex, and more particularly the filial duty you owe to myself." De Brooke was about to expostulate; but the angry parent, in tones of irony, continued: "Pray, say no more—say no more, sir; I am already sufficiently convinced how obstinately you are bent on opposing my views for your good, whatever I advise. You dissent from—in short, I know you well, sir; and how you have ever disregarded my counsels: but henceforward I will have done with you."
Roused by an address so vehement and scornful, and, as De Brooke conceived, unmerited, the fire of passion, which he had been struggling to subdue, in his turn kindled within him; and as the incensed Sir Aubrey concluded his last sentence, he had silently ejaculated, "If he knew the whole—if even I had declared my marriage—he could not be more vindictive. Then wherefore any longer conceal it?" Starting from his seat, he approached his father, who was inwardly muttering sounds of anger. Raising his voice, he said, "Know then, sir, that an already-formed attachment to a young and innocent creature forms a barrier—an insurmountable barrier—to the connection you have proposed."
"I thought so—I suspected as much," replied Sir Aubrey, with a sarcastic sneer. "Some favourite holds you in bondage; and you prefer her disgraceful chains to the honourable alliance I am suggesting,—to a union calculated to procure you riches and rank,—the favour of your father, and consideration in the world. But go—go", said he, in contemptuous tones; "you are unworthy to bear my name, sir. Go to this secret object, whose amorous dalliance alone is suited to a mind grovelling as yours."
No longer able to contain himself, De Brooke burst forth with a vehemence of feeling it was impossible to suppress. That such debasing language should be applied to his virtuous wife fired him with indignation; and not perceiving, in his tumult of ideas, that the mistake of his father naturally sprung from his own inaccuracy of explanation, he vindicated his wife with all the warmth due to her injured innocence; while, at the same time. Sir Aubrey, with a voice almost choked with passion, exclaimed, "Leave me, sir—leave my house!" and denouncing a heavy imprecation, he flung open an opposite door, closed it with violence, and disappeared.
Absorbed by the most painful images, De Brooke remained motionless; till, roused by the entrance of a servant, he hastily left the house, inwardly resolving never more to enter it.
While unconsciously directing his steps towards home, and meditating upon the unfortunate conference he had just held with his father, he bitterly recalled to mind his severity of conduct towards him, experienced from the days of his childhood, and to which he attributed that extreme embarrassment usually overwhelming him when in his presence. He reflected, also, upon his own self-forbearance, hitherto invariably exercised in despite of his natural impetuosity; and felt surprised that his habitual respect and awe of his father should have been overcome in his last interview. Though a circumstance perfectly new, he was so far from regretting it, that it pleased him to think he had, for once, endeavoured to assert his own independence.
Scarcely had he entered his lodgings, than Mrs. De Brooke, perceiving an alteration in his looks, sought with a tender solicitude to learn the cause. Seating himself beside her, and affectionately taking her hand, he briefly revealed to her the subject of dispute which had arisen between himself and his father; and though softening, in some manner, the severe expressions used by the latter, naturally described with fidelity the passionate energy into which he had been himself betrayed, and which had as yet scarcely subsided.
"Thus, my dear," added he, "our union is made known; by concealing which for a time, I had hoped finally to have effected your introduction to my father and Lady De Brooke, as well as to my sister and her husband; an event, however greatly to be desired, now, I am sorry to say, retarded, and, during a certain interval, become wholly impracticable. The treasures I possess in you, though to me more valuable than the wealth of the Indies, are not such as my father estimates. The high and affluent circumstances to which he has raised himself, it grieves me to say, closes his mind to all but worldly prejudices and selfish affections. Sad perversion of the human heart! Who would wish for fame and fortune, if they thus extinguish the best and finest feelings of humanity?"
With a mournful countenance Angelina had attentively listened to her husband. "It is I," thought she, "who am the cause of estranging him from his father." A heavy sigh escaped her, whilst tears, precious to De Brooke, in all their liquid lustre, fell from her beamy eyes. He kissed them away, as they chased each other down her lovely cheeks. She was his heart's best treasure, the partner of his purest pleasures. He clasped her to his bosom, recalled to mind her dying parent, and felt most forcibly the claim she held upon his protection.