^\ .lte-WNt?v,t=. 8^3 W\^^ Ss^L f' < y CI £-• '^- 4*^ ALINE. AN OLD FRIEND'S STO'RY, BY THE AUTHOR OF "THE GAMBLER'S WIFE," '^ DAUGHTERS, " SYBIL LENNARD," &:•. &c. &c. I cannot tell how the truth may be, I say the tale as t'was said to me." Scott. VOL. I. LONDON : T. C. NEWBY, 72, MORTIMER STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE. 1848. J. B'ttmo, PKIMTKK AJIb 81 SBKOTTi-KB, WOKIMQ, aUBJtST. 8^^ . v.l ALINE. CHAPTER I " Ye are the stars of earth and dear to me, For ye to me are more than sweet or fair — I love ye for the memories that ye bear Of by -gone hours, whose bliss was but a dream." HOWITT. • • •' Yes ! once, across my lonely path •*> There came a form of light, * And memory's magic holds her arm, N In youthful beauty bright. «* E'en now I see her fair, pale brow, \ Her lip of the ruby's glow, > And her cheek's warm tint was the morning's blush, ^ On a wreath of virgin snow." — Anon. ^^ ^ It was on a summer evening that, from the K window of a quiet lodging at Brompton, I first 2 VOL. I. B ALINE. beheld the being who has inspired me with the presumptuous desire to swell the list of contem- poraries, who, with their trembling, withered fingers, take up the pen to recall some young life into being — to raise up the shadow of some sweet flower whose crumbling relics are so fondly treasured in their memory. Yes, Aline ! you too shall take your place amidst "the old man's darlings, '^ shall have your story written, shall speak to the hearts still open to the kindly sympathies of our nature, and crave your meed of love, interest, and pity. I sat then that summer's evening at my window, looking into the little garden which lay behind the house I occupied. I had but risen that day from a bed of sickness, 4o which I had been confined during the latter part of the week. The air in this quarter, more free from the smoke of the metropolis, seemed this evening balmy and refreshing to my languid senses, the flowers grateful and pleasing to my eye. ALINE. 3 I love flowers, and not only for their scent and beauty. " They bring me tales of youth, and tones of love,'' and remind me of all that is fresh, pure, innocent, and healthful. I need not the '' violet 'neath its mossy stone," *' the primrose stars in the shadowy grass," to awaken romantic, fresh and pleasing associa- tions ; the scent, even of the parched wall- flower, adorning the mechanics' bits of garden ground in the crowded outskirts ; the pale mio-nionette, from its confined tenement on the sill of some humble window, has often caused me to pause, and feel such enchantment, as did Wordsworth's poor Susan, when in the silence of morning, she passes the corner of Wood Street, and hears the loud song of the thrush. '• She looks — and her heart is in heaven, but they fade, The mist and the river, the hill and the shade ; The stream will not flow, and the hill will not rise, And the colours have all passed away from her eyes." It is the most familiar, home-bred Eng- 4 ALINE. lish flowers^ that I love the best, which wake up pleasant memories of old [friends, old scenes, old delights — whilst, I know not how it is, the languid, voluptuous odours of the exotics exert over my heart, in its weak, morbid moods, a very contrary influence, of pining memories, vain regrets, and restless longings. But to return to my window^, — I felt almost irritated that the fresh scent of roses, carna- tions, sweet briar, and other such hke favourites, appropriately adorning my landlady's neat little plot, should be eclipsed by the richer, heavier incense, exhaled upon the evening air, by some choice hot-house plants, ranged on a stand at the entrance of the garden of the neighbour- ing house. "Who lodges next door?" I enquired of a servant-maid, who brought me in a paper which Ihad sent for to beguile the evening. " Signer Angelo," she answered ; " the great singer at the opera j'' and the woman looked as proud as if she had announced our proxi- ALiXE. i> mity to the divine Michael Angelo or Michael the archangel himself, whilst I turned away in wrath and proportionate discontent, for I had a true John Bull's prejudice against foreigners ; and an especial grudge against that class who annually monopolize so large a portion of British wealth, interest and patronage, to the prejudice of national merit, industry, and talent. I turned away, looking upon the perfumed intruders of the garden with small increase of favour. '* And these are the Signer Angelo's flowers, I suppose V was my enquiry. " Yes, sir, they are come from Knight's Gardens, for the signor's lady." *' The signor's lady ? hum ! and is she a singer too?" *^ No, sir, they say not ; she lives very quiet here and does not go to the opera with the signor. But then she has only lodged here some six weeks, and in that time has been con- " ALIxVE. fined, and is but only just about again. You'll see her, mayhap, in the garden^ sir ; she has come out these two or three evenings for a bit, to look at her flowers, and breathe the air.'' My informer then departed, leaving me to the perusal of my paper, and the expectation of this promised gratification, a sight of the fierce-eyed, dark-haired signora, I had in a moment imaged to myself as the Italian's lady — handsome and bold, a style of woman I abhor, and to crown all, essentially foreign. It was then, just as I had completed this por- trait in my fancy, that you. Aline, appeared before me. Fairest, purest, sweetest of English flowers, how had I maligned you ! Gentleness, delicacy, modesty, all that I love most in woman, seemed before my view, in the person of that tender, graceful girl, who, in her white dress, a shawl thrown over her person, stepped forward into the garden. Before I saw her face, I felt fully persuaded ALIXE. 7 that she must be, not only English born and bred, but of truly gentle birth and nurture ; for though no air of pride or conscious dignity, but rather the humble timidity of youth, spoke in her tranquil movements, there was no mis- taking in her mien and tonrneur, that in- describable character which so distinguishes the higher classes of females in our land, and I wondered much, how such as she could be the opera singer's wife. But \^hen turning, as if to inhale the fra- grance of her flowers, she slightly raised her sweet face, the air gently lifting her light ches- nut ringlets from the clear, pale brow, and I beheld the pure delicacy of her features and complexion— the mild radiance of her starry eye — the extreme gentleness of her countenance, rendered still more interesting by the tinge of timid sadness so touchingly mingled with its innocent expression, I wondered still more angrily what adverse fate had drawn a creature, whose appearance at once stamped her on my ALINE. conception as one of so refined a stock and nature, into a sphere so unaccordant, as I thought, with all that she was, or ought to be ; that a pearl so pure, so spotless a lily, one whom, had she been my daughter, I would have prized and guarded with such jealous care, should be possessed by an opera singer, a Signor Angelo, in short, any whiskerandoed Italian in the world. The lady moved about the small enclosure ; her step was somewhat languid, but that might be from her recent illness ; her head drooped thoughtfully, and then she plucked a flower or two, a sprig of heliotrope, a gardenia, warbling, in a low tone, a few snatches of a song, broken off with, what I fancied, a sigh ; and then she sank down, as if already wearied, on a seat near her plants. A maid-servant soon after came out and removed some of them under shelter, with whom she conversed a little in a low tone, and soon after re-entered and appeared no more that night. But I could not get rid of the im- ALINE. y pressioh she had made on my mind, and I longed for more information on the subject, though half ashamed to appear curious, half inclined to encourage the gossipping pro- pensity of my landlady ; I however made no more enquiries that night. The next morning, almost the first direction to which my eye tra- velled, on opening my newspaper, was the opera column, and there, sure enough, second only to the encomiums bestowed on the previouc? night's performance of a new prima donna, just then the rage in town, were the praises poured forth in exaltation of the first tenor, Signor Angelo, whose re-appearance on the London stage (though rather late in the day, for the season had become somewhat ad- vanced) was hailed with delight by the musical world. Two years before, when quite a youth, he had made his debut on the boards of her Majesty's Theatre, with unrivalled success ; but like a brilhant meteor, he had startled with B 3 10 ALINE. his brightness^ then as suddenly disappeared. I read the paragraph and glanced over the further detail of the critic. But what did this reveal to me of one whose image had haunted me through the long night ? It was not of her husband I wished to learn. Nothing had I gained, but to engrave the impression still more forcibly on my mind, of the unmeet fate to which such sweet delicacy had been treated. A favourite Italian singer ! An idea quite an- tagonistical with all thoughts of respectability, gentility and domestic virtue ! Poor, fair, young Signoi-a Angelo, I thought I (I knew not then her own sweet name.) They had certainly been hitherto quiet neigh- bours, this opera singer and his wife — as yet, no professional business had sounded in my ears — but this, I afterwards learnt, was in considera- tion of my illness, reported by my landlady ; and most part of this next day, Friday, I was abroad on business, and saw nor heard any- thing more of my next door neighbours. ALINE. 11 But Saturday afternoon, distinctly through my open window, a preface of some bi'illiant chords reached my ears, and then was sung forth in the highest, richest, fullest tones of a man's voice, one of the most beautiful airs of the Somnambula. Prejudiced as I was against operatic singing and its professors in general, I was taken by surprise by this sudden burst of rich melody. Entranced, charmed, I listened, as if it had been the chanting of an angel, rather than the be- grudged Signor Angelo, for he alone I reasonably concluded must be the singer. And then al- most at first unheeded, I saw the fair young form fleet out into the garden, and begin to cull a choice bouquet from her assemblage of exotics, but with a quiet stillness and half smile of fond, charmed attention, which spoke her absorption in the strains still continuing within. And once I saw her look up, and hastily brush what I was sure was a tear from her 12 . ALINE, eyes, as the sinirer's voice rose with thrilling notes of pathos which penetrated, through and through, even to my prejudiced heart. Alas ! alas ! I felt less wonder now» I thought at that moment, I could guess the magic which had so untowardly directed that young creature's fate. If Orpheus melted the rocks and stones be- neath his fascinating powers — are maidens' hearts so hard that they should resist, in an evil hour, a similar syren spell ? But the music died away — and with it all my momentary relentings towards the chorister, whose voice my ear had not proved so adder- like as totally to resist. I was watching again with jealous eye those slight fingers, arranging with a dexterous grace the bouquet she had culled, and thinking how, rather in the service of some young queen, so delicate a handmaid should have been employed ' — when in propria persona, the as yet unseen hero of my cogitations suddenly appeared. ALINE. 13 With sprightly grace stepped forth the young Itahan, upon the scene — still warbling the last ardent bars of the song he had con- cluded ; and suiting his action to the expressive terms — '^ Mia bene adorataP' or some such high flown nonsense, he encircled with one arm the young wife's waist, and pressed her towards him ; bending upon her at the same time a glance which spoke more than acting from the dark eyes, which, when thus turned towards me, I thought the most splendid I ha I ever beheld. Indeed, prejudiced as I was, I could not fail to be almost as much charmed with this Signor Angelo's appearance, as I had just been with his voice. Not but that I had already pictured him as handsome. Most of those Italians are so in a way — but here was more than that effective contrast of black and white effeminate grace, or bandit-like fierceness, so charming to the eye of the fair sex, though rather despicable to us, 14 ALINE. rough, plain, prejudiced Englishmen ; here, not only most supremely handsome were those above- mentioned eyes — those Italian fine cut features, that broad brow, so dazzlingly white beneath the jet black hair — but there was a frank, open expression in his countenance — a free, manly grace in his address — a momentary truthful- ness in his glance, which prevented my feelings revolting, as they would otherwise have done, against the piece of acting with which I was thus indulged. How could I look upon it, but as a rehearsal of that which in another hour or two, would be displayed before admiring crowds — his fair, gentle, almost cold companion, ex- changed for a brilliant prima donna ? Cold I say, for I thought I marked in the manner with which this tender demonstration was re- ceived, some little want of answering cordiality. Yes, though the young creature passively suf- fered the tender embrace, and slightly — very slightly smiled — she lifted not her eyes from the employment she was completing, and rather ALINE. 15 abruptly interrupted the scene, which probably, with all her English natural reserve, she might think a little too conspicuous for an open gar- den, where they might perhaps be exposed to prying gazers — curious old fellows like myself, for instance ! Gently disengaging herself — she placed the bouquet in her husband's hands. It seemed the sign of dismissal, for taking it with a " Grazia mia hella ! Ah, that I must leave you!'' they both turned and re-entered the house. And so ended my second garden scene. 16 ALfNE, CHAPTER II. •" They bring me tales of youth and tones of love — And 'tis and ever was my wish and way To let all flowers live freely, and all die Whene'er their genius bids their Souls depart, Among their kindred in their Native place." ' Landor. " Thou cam'st unknown, and lovely, — and around Thy coming, and thy bearing, and thy mood Hang mystery,— 'and in guessing at its clue, Mystery grew interest, and the interest love !" EuGKNE Aram. My landlady had discovered my love of flowers, and besides adorning my apartment with her choicest blossoms, had since my recovery, re- ALINE. 17 peatedly invited me to walk in her garden, and gather freely from its contents. This evening, I availed myself for the first time of the former part of the invitation, and soon found myself leaning upon my stick, my eyes fixed upon the pure blossoms of a lovely white rose tree, the pride of the little domain, which I had often contemplated with admiration from my window. One opening bud in particular rivetted my gaze. It brought before my memory my only child, lost " long, long ago," my bud of promise untimely faded, leaving me relationless on earth. Thus occupied, unconscious that any eye was upon mey poor, sear and yellow leaved tree ! I probably looked a very invalided, melancholy old man, — and her gentle heart, may be, was touched by my venerable appearance — for the young, bless their dear hearts ! think silver hair so pretty, and mine was even then silvery, though it was many years ago. It might have bespoke 18 ALINE. her interest and favour, or perhaps it was the cunning of her dear sex which prompted her to accomplish the wishes of her heart. However it might have been, I only know that I suddenly heard myself addressed by the sweetest voice in the world close beside me. Yes, turning at the sound, I was assured — which at first I could scarcely believe — that it was I, who was the object of this gentle apostrophe ; for I saw AUne's eyes fixed upon me with the kindest expression, as, standing near the railings dividing us, a blush suftusing her cheek, with a slight timidity, she expressed her hope that I had recovered from my illness. " I hope, sir,'^ she added, '' that you are better, and that my husband's singing this afternoon did not disturb you," I was so taken by surprise at this unexpected address, that I answered hastily, nay, some- what churlishly I fear it may have sounded, " No not at all, I thank you, young lady f but I think the moisture in my eye, which a word, a ALINE. 19 look of kindness from the young — more espe- cially '' kindness in woman,'' so readily brings from the parched fountain of the old man's heart, pleaded my excuse, for she did not turn away, but said, after an instant's pause — " What beautiful roses !" I never gather flowers ; with the poet I may say — " I never pluck the rose, the violet's head Hath shaken with my breath upon its bank, And not reproached me, the ever sacred cup Of the pure lily hath between my hands Remained unsoiled, nor lost one grain of gold." But I could not read that longing look aright, and be so great a churl as to resist it. ^* My landlady will not, I am sure, grudge you one rose, Madam, if you care to accept of it," was my reply, and whilst she gracefully ex- pressed her thanks, I severed the fairest, fresh opened bud, from the flourishing bush, and with my old fashioned manner, presented it to her. She received it in her fair hand with a 20 ALINE. smile, and a blush, and then repeating her thanks, added — ^' And now, sir, you must accept something from my garden ;" and the lovely creature looked towards her plants. '* No thank you, dear lady,'^ I said, ungraci- ously enough, " do not disturb your flowers ; it is not worth while robbing your plants for an old man like me/' *^ Perhaps you do not care for flowers," she continued with the same unchanged sweet- ness. . *^ Yes— yes, lady ! I love them much, I hope I have the taste to love all the good and beauti- ful works of God ; but in their place, dear lady, all in their place, that place which their Creator destined for them— there I love to see them flourish and abide/' " Then you prefer perhaps your garden roses to my hot house exotics ; well I must confess every time T have entered this garden lately, I have thought how willingly I would exchange the ALINE. ' 21 finest of my plants, for one white rose such as you have now so kindly given me." " Yes, yesj no doubt young lady, it is poor human nature to think that most fair — most desirable, which is out of our way, however rich and beautiful may be the objects attainable. Ah ! if all wishes were as innocent as yours to- day have been ! But it is the same in life — we all know by experience, sooner or later, often too late alas ! to profit by the knowledge — even from our first parent, who sold Paradise for an apple — Esau his birthright for a basin of porridge, ever — ever the same ! Sad it is to think we so constantly overreach our destiny — why should we not remain where God has placed us, and curb our desires, contentedly receiving what he vouchsafes to give ?" " Does he allude to me or my flowers ?" might have been the surmise of my sweet listener as I thus darkly struck upon so tender a chord of her lifers history ; and the startled, conscious gaze with which she lifted her eyes to my face 22 ALINE. thus seemed to enquire — then blushing she bent them to the ground. I thought I had offended her by my garruhty — and language, certainly of a tone a little too unrestrained for our five minutes' acquaint- ance, and I was quite prepared to receive a reserved look and cold bow as the conclusion of our interview. I was mistaken ; when Aline again raised her eyes and looked upon me, her smile was as kind as before, though a saddened, almost humiliated, expression mingled with it. *' Thank you," she said, " for the beautiful rose ; I shall go and put it into water." " And thank you, dear lady, for your kind enquiry after the old man,'' I answered. "It is seldom one so young and fair as you, can spare thought and care for such as me. I trust our friendship will not end here, but that we may have a kind glance and a word together as lono* as we remain nei":hbours.'' ALINE. 23 She smiled her assent^ and then said with a sigh — *' I do not know how it is, but you remind me so much of an uncle I once had — a dear, dear uncle ! It is not so much in looks but in your manner, your style of speaking.'^ " Indeed !" I said smiling, and with intui- tive curiosity, I asked — '' What uncle?'' " My uncle George Anderson, my mother's brother/' " George Anderson ! my dear friend George Anderson ?' was my more sad than asto- nished exclamation, for these kind of coin- cidences, become too common occurrences, ere we have passed far down the vale of years, to cause us much astonishment or emotion ; whilst she, with that young /resh spirit, to u horn such things appear almost like miracles, ;vith tearful eyes and^ kindled cheek, seized my hand, ex- claiming — " And were you really my dear uncle's friend, 24 ALINE. that dear uncle with whom I passed so many- happy days in my childhood — my mother's only- relation, who was so kind, so fond of me, and who would, I feel sure, be so still, were we ever to meet again ?" 1 will not trouble my readers with the detail of the prolonged conversation which naturally followed a discovery so mutually interesting. This friend then of mine, George Anderson, the oldest and dearest friend I had ever pos- sessed, though many years my junior, and who, from his having spent the last years of his life in foreign travel, had been entirely separated from me, was, I learnt, the maternal uncle of this interesting young woman. I remembered now well that he had a young sister, whose death, shortly after a marriage which had exalted her to a high rank in life, he had deeply mourned. I remember too, shortly before his quitting England, about ten years before the period on which I am now dwelling, having met him in ALINE. the streets of London, leading by the hand a sweet little girl whom he had presented to me as his niece, and who now — pretty child ! I could easily identify with the lovely girl before me ; but her father's title, the husband of that friend's sister, I could not now recall to my recollection, and Aline, as with lively pleasure she dwelt upon her childish reminiscences of her fondly remembered relative, still steered clear of any direct mention of her father's name, and all particulars relative to her own individual history of later date than that era of which her uncle formed a feature. We parted then, as may be supposed, with my interest only the more excited, and my curiosity little allayed, from the certainty which her earnest solicitation, that I should visit her on the morrow, seemed to afford me, of gaining by this promised intimacy a fullci* insight into the nature of this fair creature's apparently misplaced position. The next morning I delayed to no late hour VOL. I. c 26 ALINE. availing myself of her invitation, and, as my landlady would have said, " stepping next door/' I knocked and rang, and, enquiring of the servant for Madame Angelo, was admitted. I had felt some hope that I should find the object of my visit alone, having no very strong inclination for the acquaintance of the signor ; but this I also knew was in some degree inevi- table, if that of his young wife was to be culti- vated; therefore, when in the sitting room I found the Italian alone, I endeavoured to meet with as much civility as possible, his warm greeting as, leaving a pile of music with which he seemed very busily engaged, he hastened for- ward to receive me. Gay, easy, and elegant — yet with a serious sweetness in his manner and address, speaking tolerable English, yet plentifully interspersed with Italian expressions, — he begged me to be seated, declared his satisfaction that his wife should have the pleasure of my acquaintance — his povera piccola — si sola, sola tanto tanto-^ ALINE. 27 then expressing his sorrow that an engagement would oblige him to leave the house almost directly, he went to the door, and caused the house to echo with the melodious sounds which both the music of the tone and tongue in which they were pronounced produced. *' Mia Alina, mia Alina, mia AUna carissima, il signor — il tuo amico.'' Aline instantly answered to his call, and en- tering, greeted me with a smile of pleasure. She introduced me to her husband as her uncle George's friend, as she had before informed him, and, having made me resume my seat, placed herself by my side ; whilst the signor politely repeating his excuses, busied himself about the room in preparations for his depar- ture, probably for an opera rehearsal. His fair wife did not suffer him to complete them with- out her assistance, but rising gently, took from his hand the music of which he had at length completed his selection, rolled and bound it together with a ribbon, returning it with a smile c 2 28 ALINE. of kind affection, as he thanked her with tender fervour for this little service. '^ Addio mia bene/" he then said, and pressed the hand she extended with gallantry to his lips. '" Addio Carlo mio !" AHne replied, and bow- ing to me wdth renewed apologies, the young Italian left his wife, and her old visitor together. Aline's eyes had followed her husband's retreating form with a look of serious — almost anxious affection, but when the door closed, she turned towards me, and our conversation almost immediately fell upon the subject, of that mu- tual theme of interest — her uncle ! I had much upon which to dwell, in the life and character of that most amiable, talented, though somewhat peculiar individual, to which she listened for nearly half an hour with untired interest and delight. It was with some feeling of wonder that I perceived this deep impression made by one single relation on the mind of so young a person, one with whom all communication had been so ALINE. 29 early severed, excepting by letters occasionally received by her from him after his quitting London. But then she again let fall, in the course of conversation, that he was the only relative belonging to her mother, with whom she had ever had any personal acquaintance, and we all know, how often the young as well as the old are reduced to sigh for some warm, kind heart of relation or friend passed away from earth — one which we remember gilding our childhood with a sun of warmth and gladness with it for ever departed ! Poor child ! I thought, perhaps she has thus early felt the chill which cold or unkind spirits can cast upon our path in life — no wonder then she cherishes the memory of that kind hearted uncle ! Though I avoided any seeming endeavour to lead her to enter upon those personal points of her history and circumstances from which she still seemed nervously anxious to keep clear, as 30 ALINE. our discourse became more familiar, allusions to the same were inevitable. I had even gleaned from her lips, that her father had not long remained a widower, that she had brothers and sisters, and other vague hints relative to her past and present condition, of the same nature. But the pain and confusion which any par- ticular approach on my part, on that ground, seemed to produce, made me always retreat from the subject. I had not yet won sufficient confidence from my lovely, new made friend to be made the participator in her concerns. I was destined, however, before I left the house to be in a degree enlightened by a strangely interesting occurrence. A knock at the street door suddenly attract- ing my attention, I arose, saying that as she "was going to have visitors I should not intrude my presence longer, but she answered — " It can only be some one come to enquire for Signor Angelo, I^' — and with a sigh it was said, "/have no visitors, — without indeed/' she con- ALIXE. 31 tinued as steps were heard upon the stairs, " it is the doctor who attended me in my late ill- ness. '' The servant turned the handle of the door, held it open for the entrance of the guest, but gave no name. I looked for my hat in readiness to depart. AUne, I thought, suddenly cast a pale, nervous startled glance towards the door, as the new comer was heard slowly advancing. A middle- aged man, grave and distinguished in appearance, stood before us, at the sight of whom Aline, who had already risen from her seat, uttered a stifled cry, and murmuring, " My father!'* sprang one step towards him, but, as still the proud man remained immoveable, gazing down upon her with a half stern, half sorrowful glance, she stopped short — her head sank upon her bosom, her hands clasped ; trembling, drooping, she stood like a tall, slender flower before the breeze. The words which had fallen from Aline's lips made me hasten still more to depart. 32 ALINE. I felt that my farther presence now could he but an intrusion, and hurriedly seizing my hat and stick, I bowed and withdrew. My salutation was returned with cold but high bred politeness by the gentleman who had glanced quickly towards me, and as I hoped, only awaited my departure to cast aside that cold, stern demeanour towards his poor young daughter. I left them still standing as I have described, and quitted the house with a heart full of pity and deep interest. A beautiful horse I found without, but no groom in attendance ; its bridle being held by a boy at the door. In about an hour's time I watched from my front window the father remount and ride away, grave, stern in countenance as before. ALl.NE. 33 CHAPTER III ** And Gertrude climbed a widow'd father's knee. * * # * 5t Young, innocent, on whose sweet forehead mild, The parted ringlets shone in simplest guise. * * « * « Now like a new existence to his heart, That living flow'r uprose beneath his eye, Dear as she was from cherub infancy. * * * * ♦ To time, when as the rip'ning years went by, Pier lovely mind could culture well repay. And more engaging grew, from pleasing day to-day.' GhRTRUDE OF WYOMING. And now, if any interest has arisen in mv reader's minds, in behalf of the young creature I have introduced to their notice — they will not c 3 34 ALINE. be sorry, T presume, that the old man, laying aside the personal style of narrative, should detail the full particulars which he slowly and gradually obtained, of the events appertaining to her history— and that he should now place it before them, as simply and connectedly as he may. This is the extent to which he can pretend. His imagination is dulled — his elo- quence impaired. He must narrate without painting, and though such is a language at variance with that used by the poet, and the novel writer, he is unambitious enough to adopt such a colourless style. The infant daughter of Sir Alexander Seyton was baptised by the high sounding names of "Alexandrina Maria,*' on the evening of the same day that the eyes of the mother, who had some hours before given her birth, were closed in death — for it was feared that the child would also die. The father immersed in grief at his loss, gave his infant daughter scarcely a thought, and the ALINE. 35 attendants, already prevising the prospect of a second marriage, saw little importance, whether the poor delicate babe lived or died. But they performed their duty towards it to the uttermost, and that successfully, for the infant not only lived, but thrived and grew into the good graces of all, through her loveliness and en- gaging ways. The little Alexandrina, visited occasionally by relations, lived in the country with her nurses, for the first year of her life, whilst the father travelled abroad. At the end of that period, Sir Alexander returned to England, sent for his child to London, caressed and admired the little creature, thought it really the sweetest infant he had ever seen, and felt his heart open towards it, very paternally. Again the widower occupied himself with the pleasures, or rather business of life, to which the natural bent of his mind made him inclined. He had already attained considerable political cele- brity, and the little Ahne — for so in familiar pai>- 36 ALINE. lance his child was called, received, as may be imagined, but a small share of the statesman's time and attention. But a very few months had seen the little lady domiciled in her father's London house, ere she, or, at least, her nurses were apprized, that a change in her circumstances was about to take place. The morning after Sir Alexander returned from a lengthened visit in the country, the child was brought into her father's study, to sit as usual on his knee for a few minutes, to receive his kind caress, some playful words, and, occasionally, an expensive toy. She was a fair, gentle creature, and her sweet smile and soft caress seemed this morning peculiarly to attract the father's tender notice. " Poor little thing '" he murmured. Then suddenly addressing the nurse, he said in a voice of some emotion : — " Robertson ! I am obliged for the care and attention you have bestowed upon Miss Sey ton ; ALINE. 37 I trust you will continue in my service, and give equal satisfaction to the future mistress of this house." Robertson started, coloured and curtsied, with as much well feigned surprise, as if the mysterious hints and innuendoes of Sir Alexan- der's valet, who had accompanied his master in his late lengthened visit to the Marquis of Marchmont's, had not circulated through the establishment. " I wish to inform you,^' Sir Alexander con- tinued, bending his face, shghtly crimsoned, to receive the offered stroke from his unconscious daughter's little satin-like hand, " and you are at liberty to make the circumstance generally known in this house, that I am shortly to marry Lady Adelaide Mai'chmont, a daughter of the Marquis of Marchmont." <' Indeed, Sir Alexander ! I wi3h you all hap- piness, sir, lam sure, for your sake and this dear little lady's, sir !" " Thank you, thank you,'' hastily interrupted 38 ALINE. her master^ and rising and placing the child in her arms as a signal of dismissal^ the little Aline was carried back to her nursery. Fortunately, the little girl was of too unen- lightened an age to be much edified by the re- marks and innuendoes henceforth so often sound- ed in her presence as to her future chances of peace and happiness inlife— ideas, which, being founded on the vulgar notion of step-mothers in its broadest extent, might otherwise have raised some very disagreeable fears in her young mind, with regard to her prospects, and excited pre- judices against the individual who was to stand towards her in that connection. But as it was, with the most perfect confidence did the gentle, little Aline, when some months after she was brought down in her lace frock and white satin sash, to greet her bridal step-mother's arrival in her new home, lift up her rosy mouth for the kiss she was desired by her father to give to the beautiful mamma, in whose arms he had placed ALINE. 39 her, and who so kindly smiled and caressed her. Poor little creature ! she had never learnt by experience any thing of the relationship thus named, but still she seemed as if by instinct to inchne towards the idea comprised in the name of" Mamma !" as something to love and be loved by. And though the servants of course insinuated that it was all very well at first, prophesying a different story soon, when the nursery would be filled with children of her oion — there was no- thing in after days to open Ahne's perception to the contrary view of this relationship. Lady Adelaide Seyton shewed herself wanting neither in kindness nor attention to her ready made daughter, displaying indeed more affection towards the little girl than most brides, young and fashionable as herself, would have done ; and though the nursery — and, as years passed on, the schoolroom — did rapidly fill with children of her own, Aline found no diminution 40 ALINE. of the care and consideration lavished upon her temporal interests, nor of the kindness, if not tenderness, with which, equally as her sisters, the step - daughter was ever treated by the beautiful mother : and Aline on her part soon learnt to adore Lady Adelaide, with a love which, however, as she advanced in years, be- came mingled with a certain degree of fear, the result of that reserve and distance, which the etiquette of high life so often interposes be- tween parents and children in that grade of society. Lady Adelaide had received what is called a superior education, one in every way fitted to prepare her for the sphere of life for which she was designed, and at the early age of eighteen, she had entered upon her married state with as much ready knowledge and capacity to perform her duty therein, as can be possessed by the most experienced and matured peeresses of the realm. She set forth at once with the determination ALINE. 41 to acquit herself to perfection in every depart- ment of her duty, and in a worldly sense, the only foundation upon which she ever thought of building, she admirably carried out her plan of conduct. Lady Adelaide Sey ton shone in society as one of its most brilliant and attractive ornaments — the best of wives the most ex- emplary of mothers ! In that latter character, beginning with Ahne, Lady Adelaide commenced her course most consistently, earnestly and ju- diciously. By the refined, careful culture and nurture of the Miss Seyton's minds, persons, and dispositions, they bid fair to prove indeed all that was lovely, and of good report amongst the daughters of the land. Judiciously too, as I have said, was this training carried out. It was not considered necessary or wise, to render their childhood miserable, or at least joyless, for the attainment of this end. In a beautiful country home, revelling in the innocent and healthful pleasures, and recrea- tions of a rural life, so plentifully afforded to 42 ALINE. them, joined to all that money could pro- cure of educational advantages, the most con- siderable portion of the first pure and happy period of their life was passed. Aline, at the age of fifteen, found herself the eldest of a large and beautiful family, of which she was the fairest flower, the equally, if not best beloved. Her father certainly in his inmost soul loved her above all ; though naturally grave and re- served in manner, and his mind deeply im- mersed in affairs of state, he had not much leisure to testify his fatherly affection. The rides and walks, few and far between, in which Aline, in town or country, sometimes accom- panied him, were rendered by this inevitable estrangement, instead of the treat and pleasure they were intended to be, periods of restraint and embarrassment, to the shy, timid, little daughter, who if she were silent, feared to be considered stupid or ungrateful, if she ven- tured to talk, that her remarks would appear ALINE. 4S silly or uninteresting, to him, so engrossed with grave and weighty thoughts and cogi- tations. And yet Ahne loved her father most ear- nestly, most reverently, but with that mingled fear which casteth out perfect love, and which in a degree also distinguished the young girl's feelings towards her mother-in-law. Alas ! that the pride, the circumstances of life should thus exercise such chilling and dan- gerous restraints over the natural affections, often implanted as powerfully — often more so — in the hearts of the higher classes than in those of parents and children of a humbler grade of life, possessing no such constraints and impe- diments to the development of similar feelings. How differently Aline felt in the companion- ship of that maternal uncle, with whom, during her occasional sojourns in London, the young niece had been allowed by her step-mother, to spend the holidays begged by him for that purpose,— that uncle with whom she dared to 44 ALINE. talk, as she dared to none else, so clever — so full of knowledge, yet so simple and childlike- so gay, amusing and original, who showed, and told berthings socurious^andso new; places, objects, too, in that wonderful large wilderness, London, which opened and enlarged her mind so consi- derably beyond the straightening, unromantic sphere of west-end etiquette. But these most enjoyable features of her young days were not destined to be of long continuance ; just when, by her advancement in years and intellect, she was beginning more fully to appreciate that much loved relative, Mr. Anderson determined to carry into execu- tion his long contemplated project, of leaving England, to renew his foreign travels, and the uncle and all the pleasant world of thought, with which he was associated in Aline*s mind, became one of those reminiscences of childhood, which the bright imagination of the opened in- tellect of after years, invests in such glowing, romance-like colours. ALINE. 45 Those wanderings through the gloomy vaults, and silent aisles of Westminster Abbey, where she would walk with noiseless tread by her uncle's side, holding his hand, with such a childlike reverence, pressing down her soul, till he broke the spell of awe with his kind voice, explaining or commenting upon some monu- ment or tomb of poet, or warrior, so pleasantly, so graphically, yet accordant to her youthful capacity ; the rumbling of the carriages from without, the murmur of the multitude, or perhaps the light laugh of pleasure, contrasting so strangely with the death-like repose within ; or perchance the notes of the deep organ would burst upon their ear, its awful harmony breathe forth *' heaving higher and higher the accordant notes, piling sound on sound ;'' then its pause — and the breaking out, amidst the sudden silence, of angel-like voices in sweet gushes of melody ! How eagerly now would Aline become di- 46 ALINE. rectress, and draw her willing uncle from the grave-like stillness and desolation around, nearer and nearer to the choir from whence these living heavenly sounds proceeded ; and then he told her once in his fanciful way, as he looked down on her bright yet serious face, that she was his angel, leading him from the shades of Hades to the gates of Paradise. This and less striking, less vividly traced remembrances, such as beautiful pictures, strange people, old houses, curious places, — all which had seemed but slightly at the time to rivet her young perception^ in future years would flash forth into the light of memory, and perplex her mind, as to where, when, and how, she had seen and visited them. But these interesting passages were cut short, as we have said, by the loss of the society of that uncle in whom they originated, and her life returned to the same matter of course conformity, the fate of most young ladies of her age and station. ALIXE. 47 This was a conclusion, not much regretted by Lady Adelaide Seyton, ^Yho, though pos- sessed of too much good feeling to place any obstacles to the intercourse of her young step- daughter with her only maternal relative, of too much good sense not to be aware that commu- nion with an intellectual and original mind, which she had sufficient genius to appreciate and admire, was likely to be more healthful and en- larging to Aline's reasoning faculties, than the cut and dried home routine of school-room education, still began to entertain fears, both from hints received from governesses and her own observation, that the indulgences above described, had somewhat the effects of dis- arranging the young girl's mental system for regular studies, giving it in short a desultory, unsettled turn, a distaste to all that did not touch her imagination, or excite her fancy. Music was the talent for which she gave most evidence of taste and capacity, indeed her 4S ALINE. master said in some such words, as those once used by a follower of Terpsichore, respecting a superexcellent pupil : " C'est dommaye que mademoiselle etoit nee dame; elle fer ait sa fortune si elle etoit pauvre filler Lady Adelaide Seyton was an excellent musician, a perfect amateur, and therefore it may perhaps seem strange to all but very apt connoisseurs oi\ium.2Ln{2tx\di particularly woman's) nature, her seeming rather inclined to dis- courage, than cultivate, any transcendent ex- cellence of her young step-daughter's in that department. But this she certainly did, reasoning that it was unnecessary, and often prejudicial to a girl in Aline's situation, to be rendered too con- spicuous by any showy taste or talent. So Aline's musical, and especially vocal powers and inclinations, were in the school-room, kept somewhat in abeyance, though like the bird. ALINE. 49 when the dark curtain, with which its cage has been covered to drown its song, is removed, it broke forth with greater might and stronger passion hereafter. VOL. I. 50 ALINE. CHAPTER IV. ** My spirit like a charmed bark doth swim. Upon the liquid waves of thy sweet singing. Far away into the regions dim Of rapture, as a boat with swift sails winging His way adowu some many winding river. The silver key of the fountain of tears, Where the spirit drinks 'till the brain is wild ; Softest grave of a thousand fears, Where their mother Care, like a drowsy child, Is laid .asleep in flowers." Shelley. Aline, on her sixteenth birthday, was in Lon- don, undergoing the usual strict finishing dis- cipline of her education. The morning of that anniversary, she was summoned to the breakfast room, to receive ALINE. 51 the accustomed congratulations and birthday presents of her father and Lady Adelaide. An embrace and kind words from each. Then, the pretty bracelet from Sir Alexander, and sevigne from her step-mother, having been pre- sented and received with smiles and kind thanks, the father, as she prepared to depart, wound his arm round her waist, and having again kissed her brow, and gazed at her for a moment, with his grave, earnest fondness, said kindly — " How are you going to spend the day, my love?" " Much as usual, I suppose Papa." " What, at your studies ? Is not some special treat usual on such occasions — a holiday, or some- thing of the sort?" and Sir Alexander glanced at Lady Adelaide, who smiled, but answered •' Oh, that is the custom with the young ones, but Aline, 1 think, has rather pass'^d the age to appreciate such childlike favours — your father forgets that you are nearly a woman now Aline." Aline smiled, but perhaps a holiday would D 2 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY 52 ALINE, have been little less acceptable to her now, than six years ago. '' But is there nothing that would be a treat to her ?" the father continued ; " 1 have not a moment to spare to-day, or she should ride with me." " Well ! any thing that she fancies/' Lady Adelaide replied; " what would you like, Aline? to drive with me in the park this afternoon, or to go to the exhibition, or ." Aline murmured an assent, but with a lan- guid indifference, whilst at the same time the blood mounted to her brow, so that her step- mother answered rather coldly : — " Oh, do not say yes, if it will not be a plea- sure to you, dear ; is there any thing else V AHne still hesitated, and coloured yet more deeply. *'Have you no choice?'' her father rejoined, somewhat impatiently ; ** why, if we had asked Ada or Rose, they would have had plenty of ideas ready for the occasion.'' ALINE. 53 *' Oh Papa,'' Aline interrupted desperately, '^ there is one thing — but it is too much— too great a favour to ask." " Never mind, let us hear it," said Sir Alex- ander with a smile. '* Out with it Aline." *' Perhaps Mamma would not like it/' she continued, glancing timidly at Lady Adelaide, "as I am not out — as -'' " Let me hear your proposition, at any rate Aline," Lady Adelaide said with some curiosity ; " you know if I do not consider it as right and convenient to be granted, I can but say so. I: is not, I hope, to appear at your aunt's ball next week, as she rather inconsiderately proposed, to that I cannot accede." " Oh no. Mamma, it is to-night — it is the Opera ! that is — if it were possible — if it were convenient." And in her eagerness, she clasped her hands together. " For that i long — I so much wish " "Can you take her, Adelaide?'' asked Sir 54 ALINE. Alexander, after the pair had exchanged a look and a smile together.'^ Lady Adelaide hesitated. " Our box is so small, and you know I pro- mised that till next year, my sister should benefit by the place Aline will then occupy ; she will have enough of the opera in her time — but," she continued, as she remarked the resigned, patient disappointment, to which the momen- tary excitement of hope was yielding in Aline^s gentle countenance, " as you were so rash, Sir Alexander, as to promise this little lady her choice of favours, I suppose, just for to-night I must manage," and she smiled, "to satisfy this preposterous demand, and squeeze her in between Emily and myself.'' Aline's eyes sparkled between smiles and tears, as she threw her arms round Lady Ade- laide's neck, in speechless ecstacy ; and never did a heart throb with more trembling enjoy- ment, than that within the breast of the fair girl who in her white dress, her only ornaments ALINE. 55 the simple pearl sevigne on her brow, and the bracelet on her arm^ sat forward between her step-mother, and her eldest maiden sister that nightj in one of the best boxes of the Opera House. Have we not all more or less — as we have advanced in life and matured in its fatal wisdom — to enumerate amongst our regrets, that diminution in our capacity of pure enjoyment, which we remember so vividly possessing in our childhood or early youth ; that unsullied, uu- mingled pleasure presenting itself to the eye, the ear, the intellect, which our riper years seldom can preserve. How few, for instance, amongst that large audience could taste the pure enjoyment with which the young Aline, with nothing but her fresh, unblemished taste and innate talent, to prepare her for its appreciation, drank in the feast of music at which she for the first time sat as a delighted guest. How was she charmed— ravished ! 56 ALTNE. She had no distraction, no diverting interests or passions in that brilliant assemblage — the first bewildered glance over, it was all nothing to her. She had not come to look upon men and women, but to listen. The first rising of the curtain— the first exquisite strain of melody from a voice, which exceeded, as she thought, any thing which human powers could compass, for it was the first time that she heard art and nature in its perfection thus conformed — and she was en- tranced ! — wTapped in an elysium of sound, till the close of the performance. She was pecu- liarly fortunate that night, for there also ap- peared a prima donna, the most perfect that ever trod the London boards, whilst the first tenor was a star which had just shot forth, creating scarcely less sensation ; the beauty of his song only exceeded by that of his personal appear- ance and acting. But more of him hereafter. Aline was all absorption, excitement flushing ALINE. 57 her cheek and kindling her eye. At another time, the exquisite pathos of a passage would cause the tears to gush forth. Once, in forgetful enthusiasm, some brilliant perfection of artistic skill impelled her irresistibly to rise and bend eagerly forward till recalled to recollection by the words — " My dear Aline !" uttered by her mother, in a tone half reprehensive, half amused, and, '* My dear Miss Seyton !'' by the thoroughly scandalized Lady Emily ; especially as this conspicuous ebullition of feeling turned not a few opera glasses in that direction ; and the pretty new Miss Seyton became, during the rest of the evening, the subject of no inconsider- able observation. ** Well, iVhne, how do you like him ?" sounded in the young girl's ear, as the curtain fell at the end of one of the acts. Aline started and looked round. The words were spoken by a young man she had known from childhood. Lord Meivyn, who D 3 58 ALINE. had made his way to the seat Lady Adelaide had vacated for one at the back of the box, in order to converse with some gentlemen. " Who V Aline asked, blushing and smiUng. **Who? why the angel who is turning all the ladies' heads — that man Angelo." '' He does sing most beautifully,'^ she an- swered, simply but earnestly. '' 1 am so glad to see you here, Aline,^' the young man continued, affectionately ; " this looks something like your coming out ; when will that really be ?" '* Oh ! not for a whole year, I am only six- teen to-day.*' " What a bore ! oh will you not enjoy your first ball !'* " Not half so much as my first opera, I am sure," Aline replied with a mingled smile and sigh, as if she felt that the enjoyment she had tasted that night, had been too ex- quisite to allow of any other ever being of equal relish. ALINE. 59 " What, not even to dance with me V^ was the young man^s exclamation. " No, not even that," she said, w ith her truth- ful, childUke smile, cold as the first dawn of morning. And Aline returned home to her school- room — her studious seclusion — and in her dreams, in her vivid remembrance alone, was this exquisite treat renewed. But it had not been lost upon her — this one night had, as it were, given her her first insight into the mysteries and magic of music. Indeed, her singing instructress was charmed with the perceptible improvement, the enlarged com- prehension of the art now joined to her native talent and power. She longed for others to hear and admire, but, as yet her pupil had never sang out of her own immediate family circle. Music was, that season, all the rage in the fashionable world. Lady Adelaide Seyton^s house was the centre 60 ALINE, of all that was brilliant and excellent in that line, both amateur and professional. Evening concerts, morning rehearsals, were weekly carried on in her house, to which the young recluse could only listen from afar, like a caged bird to the free vocalists of the woods, from her gloomy school-room, or her restless couch. ALINE. 6l CHAPTER V, *• Of all the arts beneath the heaven, That man has found, or God has given, None draws the soul so sweet away, As music's melting mystic lay, Slight emblem of the bliss above, It soothes the spirit all to love." Ettrick Shepherd. It was at the opening of the season that Aline had gone to the Opera, and the gay spring was towards its close^ and the young girl still pursued her studies, in the seclusion of the school-room. But there was an important break made at length in this state of affairs. 62 ALINE. It was at the close of one of those rehearsals in preparation for a musical entertainment, in- tended to exceed all its predecessors in bril- liancy, which was to be given by her ladyship the following week, that one morning, the door of the school-room opened, and Lady Adelaide entered, followed by Madame C, the singing mistress of Miss Seyton, and a stranger, for whose presence Lady Adelaide thus accounted, as her daughter and the governess arose to meet her. " Dear Aline, Madame C. and I have brought this gentleman to give us his opinion of your voice ; Madame has told him wonders, so you must do your best/^ " Oh Madame !'* said Aline, blushing, and with a reproachful glance at her instructress. '* Come, come, ma rosignole ! do not be afraid, but shew off your belle voix ;'* and Madame C. sat down to the piano, which Aline approached with all the disagreeable ALINE. 63 feelings of one about to undergo critical proof. Her judge, to whom her timid eyes had but slightly glanced, stood behind her, near to where Lady Adelaide was seated, with whom he conversed in a low musical tone, whilst the song was preparing. The air at last was chosen, Madame's few, rapidly-uttered injunctions given, the prelude executed, and Aline sang, labouring under all the disadvantages of her nervousness and timidity, but well enough to call forth the approving interjections, ever and anon breathed into her ear. " There, Signor Angelo, have I not reason to be proud of my pupil?'' cried Madame C, as she struck triumphantly, the last chords of the accompaniment. Aline, who was stepping modestly back, raised her eyes quickly on hearing this address. A glance of startled interest lighting up her sweet countenance, met those of her critic ; 64 AUNE. and oh I such large, dark, yet softly expressive eyes, beamed approvingly upon her. He gave the praise required with all the graceful suavity of a foreigner, yet without any overstrained flattery, marking out at the same time the 2 points in her voice requiring improvement and correction. "But why," he continued, with a slight graceful shrug of his shoulders, turning to Lady Adelaide (who spoke of the change time and industry might effect upon her daughter's vocal abilities,) " why should la signorina sing so well — what will her fine sing- ing avail, except indeed for the delight of her intimate friends, and for that it is already more than sufficient ; but the labour and sorrow, and loss of strength and time necessary to attain per- fection, he added with a beautiful smile, pressing his hand lightly on his chest " ah ! your charm- ing daughter is fortunate not to require that.'' " Oh, I would endure it all to sing as well as you, Signor Angelo !" Aline ventured to say. ALINE. 65 He smilingly bowed in acknowledgment of the compliment, but again shook his head. "My daughter has heard very little good singing, Signor Angelo, therefore you may imagine that she was not a little dehghted with that of Madame and your own at the Opera, where she went* for the first and only time, early in the spring/^ "Ah, I entreat you, sing Mademoiselle a little song, Signor Angelo/^ exclaimed the good- natured German, "it will so charm her." " Oh no,'' interrupted Lady Adelaide, " Sig- nor Angelo must be too fatigued for any more unnecessary exertion. We have already de- tained him too long." A rosy flush had coloured Aline's ivory brow at Madame C.'s proposal, her lips had parted with a radiant smile, but at her mother's sug- gestion, her countenance fell. But the signor heeded not that objection. Seating himself with alacrity, he glanced with respectful gallantry towards Aline, and com- 66 ALINE. menced a light but beautiful little canzonetta, whilst the young girl stood meekly listening by his side, her eyes fixed upon his face, fair and innocent as the pure white rose of which the singer sang, the graceful compliments thereby intended, which a foreigner never fails to find opportunity to introduce, as uncon- sciously received, as the flower heeds the in- cense offered to its praise. Then the Italian arose in some haste, for he had in reality much over-taxed his leisure, and having received the timid but gracefully ex- pressed thanks of Aline, he bowed with the gentlest, sweetest smile, and reconducted by Lady Adelaide, left the room. A step-daughter is scarcely ever fortunate enough to escape entirely the grudge that seems as a matter of course to be attached to one in a like position, by the opposite party, and though Aline had found little from the mother whereof to complain — though be- loved by her brothers and sisters as much or ALINE. 67 more, than half^ or whole sister, ever was be- loved, she still was not totally without her por- tion of invidious enmity. The elder sisters of Lady Adelaide — Rosa non colte nelle loro stagione" — were far from feeling much love for this fast growing up step- daughter, destined so soon to push them out of the position which the chaperonage of Lady Adelaide had hitherto afforded these advancing spinsters. They were provoked at her existence ; it brought troubles upon them, which might otherwise have been delayed three more years, that being the difference of age, between Aline and their eldest niece, Ada, — Ada they argued, whose debut they would have witnessed with an aunt's pleasure, and gladly yielded to her their seat in the opera box or carriage. But as to this girl, who was nothing to them or they to her, it was very provoking and disagreeable. The ladies were also heard to say, that they were sure she would not marry, just be- cause it was of consequence that she should do 68 ALINE. SO, for they knew their sister would hate having a grown up step-daughter, though as a child it had been all very well. Never was there, however, such an inoffen- sive, humble, little creature, as Aline Seyton, during her girlhood, always receiving any such manifestations of the aforesaid feelings with the most unsuspecting sweetness, arguing that she could not expect to find equal favour in the eyes of her step-mother's sisters, as did their own nieces. " And so that child, Aline Seyton, is actually to be brought forward for display on Friday night. I must say it is foolish of Adelaide to allow it !" remarked Lady Emily. " Or rather say, vain of her,'^ answered tartly Lady Sarah, " for it is only because the child's voice suits well in that trio in which Adelaide performs with such eclat, that she is induced to break through her resolve to keep Aline quite out of society, till it is abso- ALINE. 69 liitely necessr.ry to bring her out — which you may be sure she is in no hurry to do." " Oh, I do not think my sister need be afraid of being cut out by her step-daughter, —she is a pale, thin thing, — no brilHancy I — will never make much sensation/' said Lady Emily. Lady Sarah sighed as she thought the pale girl had at least " la heaute du dmhle^^ which to regain she would have given all her little lingering brilliancy, for she had been a beauty in her day. The following circumstance had given rise to this little colloquy between the two old young ladies. There was, as they said, a trio of great beauty, which by royal request was to form part of the programme of the musical fete in prospect — two parts of which her ladyship, whose vocal powers were very considerable, had arranged for herself and Angelo, but for the third there was some difficulty in deciding whom to chose, for it was not exactly a part to suit the ambition of 70 ALINE. any of the first rate and fastidious professors, yet was one which to preserve the effect of the whole, required voice and talents to a degree which Lady Adelaide, who wished this piece to be the gem of the evening, could not find amongst her amateur friends. It was her coadjutor, Signor Angelo, who first suggested '^Mademoiselle sajille .'" " Might not Mademoiselle Seyton take a part so suitable to her beautiful voice ?" Her daughter was too young, her ladyship ob- jected ; even if her vocal powers were sufficient for the trial, it was too early for them to be brought forward so conspicuously. Signor Angelo regretted, but did not presume to press the point, but Madame C. was not so quiescent. She declared it quite a scandale, that her pupil should not be allowed this op- portunity of letting her beautiful voice be heard, that the Ladies this, and the Misses that, with not half Miss Seyton's talents, were brought forward for the pleasure of their parents' guests. ALINE. 71 on all occasions— that the voices of Lady Adelaide and her daughter together w ould be a treat too exquisite. Her ladyship had no idea of the finest points of Miss Seyton's voice, no one had but herself. It was then Madame C, who at length pre- vailed, and finally conveyed the tidings to her astonished pupil, that her voice was considered worthy to mingle with that of the celebrated Signor Angelo, and Lady Adelaide — for public exhibition too ! However, Aline set herself meekly and dili- gently to the study of her appointed task, and when the morning fixed for the practising of the piece together arrived, she was tolerably well prepared in voice and spirit for the tune. It was to be a private rehearsal, not even Madi me C. was able to attend to accompany the performers. At the appointed hour, Aline was summoned to the music room — a lofty saloon, the vaIu- dow commanding a view ol the park, and 72 ALINE. found Lady Adelaide, with the young Italian, in attendance. " Well Aline ! I trust your part is well pre- pared/' said her ladyship, " you don't know what a strict judge you have in Signor Angelo — nothing but perfection satisfies his ear.'' This was not very encouraging to Aline, but she glanced timidly at the countenance of this redoubted mentor, and there was nothing very fearful in the smile which accompanied his de- precatory protestation against this report. And Aline smiled too — though she felt also her heart beat quickly for a moment, as she met the gaze which the young Italian fixed upon her face, lighted up at the moment with that blushing smile. But it was more of Lady Adelaide than the young artiste that she felt afraid. It was the first time she had ever sang with her step- mother. However, the young performer ac- quitted herself with credit — the voices of the two amalgamated admirably. Aline and her ALINE. 73 mother^s were like the nightingale and the lark. Still it was a difficult performance, and Signer Angelo was not quite satisfied. Lady Adelaide, with her fine compass of voice and well practised execution, readily accommo- dated herself to his corrections, but with his younger pupil (for in that light the mother and daughter were considered on this occasion by the talented artist) he had more difficulty, or perhaps, as the most promising pupil, with her, he took more pains. He would not allow the slightest tone of in- correctness to pass unnoticed, not even the most imperceptible error. It was a compliment in reality, but one which Ahne, accustomed to a more indulgent or less fastidious instructress, was not able rightly to appreciate. Lady Adelaide was at length called away on business, and leftthem together. For the better mastering of a passage, Signor Angelo sung it over and over again, and ex- VOL. I. E 74 ALINE. plained it with assiduity. And Aline^ with the same sweetness and patience, repeated it often. Angelo had from his earliest youth been accus- tomed to the unsparing toil and industry of a professional study, and in the ardour and interest gradually stealing upon him for his present occupation, he was forgetful that it might not be so agreeable to the object of his pains. '^ Ancora, ancora I" he had again and again repeated, and Aline began to feel at length quite provoked, for the awe of her mother's presence removed, she felt less subdued, and she was really tired. The twenty -first time the passage had been gone over, and then she paused. *^ I am so tired, Signor Angelo," she mur- mured, and her eyes filled with tears though she tried to smile. ^' If you please — no more this morning. I cannot," she added with a slight tone of petulance in her voice, " I cannot sing it any more now," and she sank on a chair close by, which Lady Adelaide had before occupiedv The young master had, of course. ALINE. 75 been seated at the piano — she alone had stood that long, long hour and a half, and her tall, delicate form was almost exhausted, a fact, which in his absorption, and eagerness in his pursuit, seemed to have escaped Signer Angelo's re- membrance. But now he started up in a sudden fit of penitent remorse, reproached himself with his forgetfulness, overwhelmed her with the most earnest, anxious apologies, and supplications for forgiveness, seized Lady Adelaide's fan, which lay on the instrument, for the weather was sultry, and fanned her heated brow ; he even ended by taking her hand — that peculiarly beautifully formed hand with its taper, almond nails, on which his eyes had often fixed whilst she patiently turned the leaves of the song. Yes, in his earnestness, he even took one of those little hands and pressed it in his own, yet all this with such gentle respect, such freedom from all familiarity, the action flowing so spon- taneously, as it were, from the natural warmth of his heart, that the greatest prude could 76 LINE. scarcely have frowned^ far less the artless Aline, who only smiled through the tears which pique had at first drawn forth, and gratitude now retained. " Oh no V' she said, ^^ I am not so very tired. I was only beginning to be so — and Madame C. has spoilt me, for I am rather idly inclined ; but I will practise this passage very diligently and 1 hope by the next time we sing it together, I shall not be so stupid.^* " Stupid ! ah Signorina !" exclaimed the Italian. A servant entered at this moment, sent by Lady Adelaide to say that her ladyship was sorry to have been interrupted, but that as she was unavoidably prevented from return- ing to the music room, she would not detain Signer Angelo any longer. So Aline's lesson was at an end — a lesson in which who knows but that the seeds of other knowledge than that of music had beens own ? ALINE. CHAPTER VI. " My mind misgives, Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars. Shall bitterly begin — With this night's revels." Romeo and Juliet. Aline Seyton was henceforth a constant assist- ant at the rehearsals preceding the fete in pro- spect. The difficulties of the trio were thoroughly vanquished, amateurs and professors astonished and delighted with the new addition to their corps, and praise and flattery abundantly lavished upon the young debutante. 78 ALINE. Aline's courage and spirit rose with the newly developed perception of her powers and talent. Lady Adelaide did not inwardly approve, but found it difficult to withdraw her from the scene in which she proved so great an acqui- sition. The fete, too, had been unavoidably postponed for a fortnight, and in that interval Aline was drawn into other parts of the programme. The night at length arrived. A brilliant com- pany assembled — the royal guest amongst them, and the performance commenced. Not for some time was Aline called upon for her part, and till her services were required, she had been seated with her governess in a retired part of the room hidden from the company ; young Lord Mervyn had alone found her out, and seating himself by her side, they conversed together in a low voice : " 1 have not seen you for a long time. Lord Mervyn," Aline said with the easy freedom ALINE. 79 she still preserved towards the playfellow of her childhood. *• Have you not ?" he said, as he gazed with interest on the improved loveliness of her face and form : " I saw you the other morning." " Where V Aline enquired. " In the music room, when the rehearsal was going on/^ he rephed. " I did not see you.^' "Oh no, you were far too much occupied and surrounded by those gabbling Italian people. A linnet amongst a set of parrots ! I wonder Lady Adelaide likes her house to be the resort of such a crew, or at any rate admits you into their company. It is a dreadful nui- sance, this mania just now, for every thing t;^ ith an Italian name, that can sing. Every house in London one enters, is infested by Signer this, or Signora that. They are all very well in their proper places, but bringing them for- ward in society, in this ridiculous way — making 80 ALINE. them at home in houses, morning, noon and night ; it is too much of a good thing. " Aline smiled ; she knew as yet nothing of the politics of society, and took things as she found them ; but she said — " Oh, Lord Mervyn, you are jealous, because you cannot sing as well as these Italians/^ ^^ Well!" replied the young man, *^ I do not mean to say they should not sing — it is their trade, and they are fit for nothing else — but it is no reason that one's mothers and sisters should sing with them. I should not let my wife do so, I assure you, Aline/^ " Should you not V Aline answered^ with laughing unconcern ; ^' I wish 1 was your wife then, at this moment, for I would give worlds not to be going to sing now, and my time is approaching.'' The young man smiled significantly at the first part of this speech, and gazed upon her with redoubled interest. Aline did not heed it, and, all unconscious- ALINE. 81 ness, turned to speak with Signer Angelo, who just now approached, but she started and turned pale, when she heard he had come to summon her to the piano. '' What! already, Signor Angelo?*' ^' Yes, already," he answered, with an en- couraging smile, looking down upon her up- raised face. She arose and accompanied him to the piano, where, amidst the plaudits, still resounding in commendation of the last per- formance, Aline took her place by the side of Lady Adelaide. Lord Mervyn had eyed the handsome Italian askance, as he approached them. He was jealous even that he should be in a position to exchange smiles and words with his innocent Aline, for so he already designated her in his in- ward mind. His, he intended her to be at some future day, when he should consider himself old enough and steady enough to marry, and he knew his father, and her father, friends both E 3 82 ALINE. social and political, would wish for nothing better. Lord Mervyn was an only son, accustomed to have every person and every thing bow to his control. He never, therefore, contemplated the possibility of any obstacle to this plan, tut already assumed the right to find fault with any thing around the young Aline, which did not suit his own peculiar notions about women. Lord Mervyn had wished Aline to be intro- duced into society, to dance and talk with him, not to be displayed with opera singers and ama- teurs, for the amusement of the London society. In the meantime, as he moved away to mingle with the audience — to abuse private concerts, and vote all music a bore, any where but at the opera — Aline's appearance at the instrument had excited no little interest. She had as yet, been little seen and heard of, and was now reported not out, but only allowed for this one evening to gratify her musical in- structress by assisting at the concert, so that ALINE. 83 the musical critics only anticipated her perfor- mance with indulgent patience. But when Aline stood up by the side of her mother — very nervous, truly, but pretty con- fident of acquitting herself with credit — all were struck with the simple grace and loveliness of her appearance, and still more astonished with the talent she displayed in her perform- ance. A murmur ran through the saloon. The fresh, sweet beauty of her voice rose in truth, high and clear, Uke the skylark^s amidst the deeper richness of Lady Adelaide's, mingling with still greater effect with the exquisite melody of the professor's, who seemed himself quite delighted ; for he turned once or twice at the close of a well executed passage, with an applauding smile towards his young coaju- trice, which did not fail to impart the intended encouragement. The trio ended, Lord Mervyn had again made his way to Aline's side, offered his arm, and led 84 ALINE. her forth blushing and breathless, from the warm plaudits that followed. "Well AUne, you got through it capitally !" he said. " Do you think so — did it sound well — what did Papa say — was he pleased ?'^ she pantingly asked. " I heard him tell his Royal Highness, that he had no idea you could sing at all." " Really ! and Mamma, I wonder what she thought?'^ " Oh, she had enough to do, I suppose, to think about her own part,'' replied Lord Mervyn. " Signorinay^ a musical voice sounded at that moment, in their ears, ^^ I come by order of his Royal Highness, to have the honour of conduct- ing you to his presence/* " Me !" exclaimed Aline. ^' Yes, Signorina," he replied, *^ by permis- sion also of Sir Alexander and Lady Ade- laide." "Come Aline," said Lord Mervyn, '^ I will ALINE. 85 take you," and he would have drawn her on, but Angelo interposed — " Pardonnez, moi Milord, but I cannot yield the commission with which I was directly charged. Signorinay will you honour me ?" And he offered his arm. Aline accepted it, smiling her excuse to Lord Mervyn. The young man's brow darkened. " Impertinent !" he murmured and turned away. The artiste Angelo had become the spoilt child of the London society. There was no house of fashion and rank, possessing the least taste or patronage for music, in which he had not the entree as a favoured guest, rather than a professional singer, for not only was he a talented performer, but a perfectly gentleman- like and agreeable member of society. At the close of the trio, when the royal guest had appeared, to offer in person his thanks and praises to his fair and accomplished enter- 86 ALINE. tainer, and her young and no less fair and ac- complished daughter, he was accompanied by Sir Alexander himself, who, with no little sur- prise had listened half-disapproving, half- proud, to the pubHc display of his little Aline, — as he still called her,— in the character of so accom- plished a songstress. He had indeed been told occasionally of her possessing a fine voice, and had heard her in her earlier girlhood sing little songs for her amuse- ment, but had never of late had time or thought to ascertain her improvement in the accomplishment. Sir Alexander looked anxiously around for his daughter as his Royal Highness was com- plimenting his wife, but Lord Mervyn had drawn her away, " Where is Aline gone ?" he asked. "Yes indeed, where is the little nightin- gale," rejoined the Duke, "I must have the pleasure of being re-introduced to her. I have not seen the young lady since she was ALINE. 87 a baby, I believe. Signer Angelo, I hear that to you she owes her perfection in the piece she has so splendidly performed. You shall have the pleasure of pursuing the fugitive, and bringing her to speak to me." Signer Angelo bowed. " You will not have much trouble in finding Miss Seyton, I dare say/' said Lady Adelaide, smiUng. " But sir," she continued, addressing the Duke, *' you see she is very young and un- sophisticated ; having completed her task, she runs away to amuse herself Hke a child, quite satisfied that she has performed all that is re- quired of her.^' " Ah, ah, she vrill learn to know better, doubtless before long — sing to a different tune!" laughed the duke. " But here she comes look- ing like a blush rose, — why Seyton she is too pretty to sing so well !" Sir Alexander thought so too. And Lady Adelaide, she felt a movement of something like jealousy towards her fair step- 88 ALINE. daughter. She was herself too young and handsome to brook the prospect of being out- shone or rivalled by one in Aline^s position. " And what a handsome fellow that Angelo is !" continued his Royal Highness; ** why all our young men will be jealous of him ! I de- clare there is Mervyn looking daggers at him already. Ah, Lady Adelaide, your daughter is not so young either that she cannot do some mischief," But Aline had now arrived, leaning on the young Italian's arm, truly with the blush of a rose on her delicate cheek, her eyes sparkling with timid excitement. The Duke assailed her with playful compli- ments and praises. " We must have you oiF to Italy, young lady,'^ he concluded by saying, " and there you will become such a syren that we ^shall have Laporte kidnapping you, — shall we not Signor Angelo ? But joking apart, Seyton, you must let your daughter have some good instruction ; ALINE. 89 Lady Adelaide tells me she has had very little, only Madame C, who is a clever woman, but," shrugging his shoulders, *^ not grande chose after all." " I leave all that to Lady Adelaide," an- swered Sir Alexander, with a grave smile ; " for my part I think Aline sings quite well enough already for all intents and purposes, but Lady Adelaide will, of course, do all that is right and necessary." " Oh yes ! Aline shall have a few more good lessons," said her Ladyship. " If Signor An- gelo, for instance," she continued turning to him with a gracious smile, " would accord her the great favour — I know you do not give lessons, but . . . . " " Oh I command him to do so," playfully cried the Duke, '' he would not be so ungallant a gentleman as to refuse. What do you say. Miss Ahne ?'' Aline, now leaning on her father^s arm, lifted her eyes with a smile, and met those of her 90 ALINE. (as it might have seemed) unwilling master — blushing she hastily withdrew them. " What do you say, Signor Angelo ?" asked Lady Adelaide. The colour rose to the young man's brow, and he looked grave, but at this last appeal he bowed, murmuring — " I am at your Ladyship's service," and entered speedily into an arrange- ment for the same with Lady Adelaide, the two being considerately left together, as his Royal Highness said, to arrange all necessary matters — for royalty of that date, was, as all know, very kindly officious in the affairs of others whenever their interest was enlisted in any cause — and our Duke in question was a great fanatico per la musica. ALINE. 91 CHAPTER VIL " Some fall in love with voices, some with ejes. Some men are linked together by a tear ; Others by smiles ; many who cannot tell What time the angel pass'd who left the spell." Faber. The singing lessons commenced. They were carried on in the large saloon, the voices accom- panied by the splendid instrument it contained, under the surveillance of a staid English gover- ness, seated with a book or work, in a situation which commanded the best view of the lively park. Sometimes a young sister was allowed to be present for the improvement of her musical taste, but soon Aline was the only one of the 92 ALINE. young party who remained in town. The others were sent to a villa at Wimbledon — Ada, the eldest, being somewhat delicate — to spend the remainder of the period, political affairs de- tained Sir Alexander from the country. Lady Adelaide divided her time equally be- tween the two establishments ; occasionally she joined Aline in her lessons to sing or to listen, but it was seldom that her numerous engage- ments would allow her leisure for such occupa- tions. Her Ladyship, however, dwelt much upon the value of the instruction now aflforded to Aline, and her hope that she would do her best to profit by it to the utmost, for it was worth its weight in gold. And Aline thought indeed it might be so, if it were profitable to listen to a voice, whose slightest tone was music — a voice which she felt to steal into her soul, and modulate her notes to his ; but in the art of teaching in a theoretical sense she began to fancy her talented master ALINE. 93 somewhat deficient, or unskilled, thus proving himself a very different teacher from that he had shewn himself in her first difficult lesson. Perhaps he was too young, too inexperienced in the business, perhaps he disliked the occu- pation and soon wearied of it ; for she re- membered his hesitation when it was first pro- posed by her mother. Certainly after the 'first few lessons, his energy and interest in the pur- suit appeared to wax faint. Angelo sang for her, with her, listened, approved by a sweet melancholy smile, cor- rected her errors by his own exquisite notes, but he sighed often. This, with Aline 's own, at first, simple un- conscious smiles, was the only intercourse ex- changed. The lessons proceeded, as may be supposed, very quietly and smoothly to all appearance. To Aline they would have proved perfect enjoy- ment, had it not been for something in the con- 94 ALINE. strain! and melancholy of her instructor, which began to trouble her. Yes ! he was the first victim. All know that the souls of the children of the south are quick and fiery — that passion is soon kindled therein ; and the heart of young Angelo, with all the warmth of his country, was also tender as a woman's. It required not much time or opportunity to inspire him with love for the fair English girl. His hesitation, when invited to become her master, had doubtless sprung from some percep- tion of the danger of such an ofiice. But alas ! the stern strong mind, which can see and choose at once the right, and resist the wrong, unwaver- ing, uncompromising, unbiassed by temptation, was not his. He yielded, and what could he expect ? that the intimate communion, the smiles, the glances, the sweet breath which fanned his cheek, the chance touches of that soft hand, would strengthen and steel his heart against the dan- ger? ALINE. 95 No ! but feeling that it was hurtful to him alone, completely hopeless, he argued that there could be therefore no peril, no wrong. Unconscious, innocent and calm, what was it to the young girl if she were beloved by him ? And he did conceal eflfectually, he thought, his pain and weakness. But his dejection could not thus be disguised, his sighs stifled ; still he hoped, he trusted, that it was not his fault that soon, too soon, with a strange mixture of ecstacy and dismay, he heard the trembUng accents, saw the blushing cheek, the shrinking, drooping eye of his youthful pupil. The grave governess at her post, listened and watched, but saw and heard nothing but what she should have heard and seen. The master steady, grave and respectful, the pupil docile, attentive, modest — though perhaps, by degrees, an increase of womanly dignity might have been perceptible in Aline's demeanour, for conscious weakness often takes refuge in out- ward pride. 96 ALINE. The governess little guessed, when all was so calm without, the subterraneous fire working its way within. But at length she remarked that Miss Sey- ton was looking pale, that her spirits were variable, her appetite indifferent, and she mentioned this to Lady Adelaide, who was too busy at the time to remark much upon it, but ordered Aline to Wimbledon for a little change of air and relaxation from her studies. A week she spent there, and then returned to profit by a few last singing lessons, which were to enable her to take part in the musical entertainments destined to enliven Seyton Park, and to which Signor Angelo had pronounced it compatible with his numerous engagements to lend his valuable assistance. Lord Mervyn that week was constantly at the villa, and Aline thrown much in his society. Lady Adelaide seemed to encourage the com- ALINE. 97 panionship^ but the young man found Aline altered, distraite. " What is the matter ?" hesaid once, as they strolled together on the lawn, AUne silently pulling to pieces the flowers she had gathered ; " I hear you have studied away your roses, your appetite, or something of the sort, and I think your tongue too — sung it away, perhaps, with that Signor Angelo, eh?" The roses bloomed forth for the time in full beauty on the face upon which he gazed, and a low sigh involuntarily heaved from his fair companion's breast. " Or your heart, perhaps !'^ Lord Mervyn continued, a slight tinge of bitterness mingling in his playful tone, as he fixed his gaze upon the young girl's countenance. Aline erected her graceful head, cast the despoiled flower to the ground, and walked on with a half ofi^ended smile. " I do not understand you, Lord Mervyn," VOL. I. F 98 ALINE. she said, and she began to warble an Italian air, but stopped abruptly with another blush and another sigh, then sprang from his side to join her young sisters, who were playing amongst the flowers. This apparently trifling passage was not so unimportant as it may appear. Words are never unimportant, they are weighty, responsible things ; they can give a substance and a shape to what may have been before, but as a passing shadow, a flitting fantasy of the mind which might otherwise have passed away as such, and left no trace behind. " Lost my lieart to Signor Angelo V what could that imply ? Here was something on which to muse, — was it this then that caused those feelings, half pain, half pleasure, which had troubled her of late in Signor Angelo's presence ? why, present or absent was he for ever in her thoughts ? was this the reason of ALINE. 99 the distaste and weariness which attended all occupations succeeding those singing lessons ? --was this having lost her heart? Ashamed, and afraid at the idea of this first conceived, yet scarcely comprehended, misfor- tune, how she trembled when she was the next time summoned to her master's presence. He, with all the cold respect he could infuse into his voice and manner, enquired after her health, and she murmured in as cold a tone as she could assume, that she was better. They always spoke in Italian, Lady Adelaide having desired it for Aline 's improvement in that language, though the governess understood it not. This was a dangerous liberty, but Signer Angelo never abused it. His words, as I have said before, had been of late ever few, ever con- strained. This morning Aline sang ill, one song in particular she could not manage. Her voice F 2 100 ALINE. was faltering, its power seemed gone. There was what the French call larmes dans sa voix and at length, with larmes dans ses yeux, she abruptly paused, and turned away her head to conceal, as it would seem, the embarrassment of her failure, and her nervous emotion — then the governess remarked apologetically, that Miss Seyton's late indisposition had rendered her nervous, and at her suggestion Signer Angelo said he would sing the passage for his pupil. He began. It was an air of exquisite pathos — the words impassioned — full of tender love. The governess listened over her book, but looked up soon ; for strange to say in the very same thrilling passage, in the same quivering note on which the pupil had failed, the voice of the perfect, matchless master, also faltered, stum- bled, and fell. The governess looked up surprised, but it was over, the all that could have met her eye, that first look exchanged, that never-to-be-for- ALINE. 101 gotten glance which tells the tale, and all is lost! " Galeotto fu il lihio e chi lo scrisse '' But what the song and who the writer I cannot tell. Signor Angelo had risen abruptly, and was bending over some music on the instrument ; Aline, still standing, had turned her face away ; in that short fleeting moment they each felt nought but that they loved each other ! " Was the lesson over ?" the governess en- quired. " Yes," murmured the Italian, and lifting up his head, the sadness had passed from his briUiant countenance. The Signorina Seyton was fatigued, he said, and Aline also then turned her head, her eyes drooping, but tears glittering on the lashes, her cheeks all glowing, her bosom heaving. No after glance was ventured, no word ex- changed. 102 ALINE. The Signer bowed to the governess, and withdrew. Aline, as in a dream, followed Miss Peters to the schoolroom. ALINE. 103 CHAPTER VIII. ** "What say'st thou, wise-one ? that all powerful love Can fortune's strong impedimenta remove ; Nor is it strange that worth should wed to worth, ^ The pride of genius with the pride of birth." Crabbe. " I knew thy state, my station, and I knew A princess was no love mate for a bard." Byron. There was a children's /eie at the end of the season, to which Lady Adelaide conducted her beautiful flock. All now had returned to London in pre- paration for the country move near at hand. Aline, of course, was not included in the juvenile party. She was in the drawing room, where, from 104 ALINE. the pretty mignonne Ada of thirteen to the prized and petted heir and only son of four, the children were all collected previous to de- parture. Aline had been caressed and petted by the young ones for being left at home, and having received a kind kiss from her step-mother, who advised her to stay and amuse herself in the drawing room, she watched from the window the handsome equipage drive off with its lovely freight. Then she turned away with the sigh which, when left alone, even the most happy and care- less so often heave, they know not why. But was Aline careless and happy ? not careless it seemed, for care renders a person thoughtful, and she — who a few weeks ago, if left thus alone, with liberty to amuse herself as she pleased, would have been gay as the bird that flits from bush to bush, with but her own innocent imagin- ings to beguile the moments, or would have flown to seek the nursery where was one like herself ALINE. 105 deterred on score of age from the amusement of the day,— had sunk upon a seat in reverie profound, now a crimson blush, now a sigh, now a smile holding influence over her coun- tenance. It was a reverie, broken at length by a start which seemed to change the spirit of her mood, for she became now, restless, if not as gay as the flitting bird, nay rather as one scared, frightened, flying from it knows^not what. She was on the stairs, the corridor, the gallery, and finally had stolen in to the music room, when, by her conscious, hasty look, as she stood one moment at the door, and cast a furtive glance around, one would have thought she had come to some forbidden spot. Then gliding in as a bird that has at lengch found its haven of rest, she seated herself be- fore the instrument, struck a few, low chords, which, with hands idly resting on the notes, her eyes fixed, she allowed to die away into silence. Aline knew not herself, how long she had sat, 106 ALINE. when the door opened so softly, that absorbed in meditation, she heard it not, nor the hushed footstep which followed — nothing, till her name was spoken softly — tenderly in her ear — and then she started up, the bright blood rushing in torrents over face and brow, whilst from her lips escaped the involuntary exclamation — " Signor Angelo I" But turning round, she beheld Lord Mervyn. The young man fixed upon her for a moment a cold, astonished glance, then said, as Aline stood ashamed and confused before him — " You are disappointed in your visitor/* " I expected,^' she answered, turning away her head, but assuming a collected tone, " I cer- tainly expected Signor Angelo to give me my lesson this afternoon, and " " And your singing master is allowed the privilege of addressing you by your christian name ?'' " Oh, no, no V exclaimed Aline, with fright- ALINE. 107 ened eagerness, crimsoning to her temples, " never, never, I assure you, but '' She could not say, that at the very moment her name was pronounced, her foolish thoughts had been picturing how sweet it would be to hear that name pronounced by those Hps of music, and marvelling whether she should ever have that delight afforded to her ears, or rather, alas ! to her heart. And for one short moment, she had been deluded into the idea that her desire was accomplished. " And you are sitting here awaiting his ar- rival, and practising your eyes on his image, instead of your voice and fingers with his song \'* and Lord Mervyn turned his glance scornfully on the music resting on the desk, upon the first page of which was the printed portrait of the composer, Signor Angelo, on which Aline's eyes had been riveted. " Lord Mervyn ! " was all the culprit could answer, taking; refuo-e in a tone of offended dignity. 108 ALINE. *' How long are these lessons to last?" Lord Mervyn then continued. " You are very inquisitive this evening, Lord Mervyn ! May I ask what brought you here, what lesson you are sent to give me, for I am not allowed to receive gentlemen visitors, when I am alone !" was Aline's reply. *^ Only your singing master !" answered Lord Mervyn dryly, " but I will tell you. Miss Seyton, why you see me here. I came with a message from my father to yours, and having given it, I asked and received Sir Alexander's permission to pay my respects to his daughter ; having also obtained the sanction of Lady Ade- laide, who I met surrounded by her fair progeny, and who told me that you were at liberty for the morning, and that I might pay you a short visit ; not finding you in the drawing-room, my instinct suggested to me that you were pro- bably here — having become such a musical devotee — but if my presence is disagree- able '' ALINE. 109 '' Oh, no, no ! Lord Mervyn/' Aline exclaimed in her natural tone of frank simplicity, «' I am very glad to see you.'' " But you would have preferred seeing Signer Angelo V^ An impatient, angry flush passed over AUne's face. " But you do not take your lessons alone," he persisted. " No, of course not. Miss Peters " " Aline, I see you think me very impertinent, but forgive me, if I ftel for you the interest of a brother — nay more than a brother, " he con- tinued, with softened earnestness, "and I am very particular — very jealous — I hated that Italian from the first — he is too young, too well looking for the office he has undertaken, with regard to you, and men of that class are often so impudent — so imposing — you do not know what wretches they are — what cha- racters they bear. I see behind the scenes — you only see things under the most favour- 110 ALINE. able aspect ; for instance, this Signor Angelo *^Lord Mervyn/^ interrupted Aline, with some warmth, *^ you could not say any thing against Signor Angelo, I am sure, but if so, "what is it to me?'* " What indeed, Aline, that beggarly singer ? but if nothing to you, why that indignant glance and why these tears ?'* *' Because — because,'^ sobbed Aline, ^' he shall not be insulted, and I will not be thus tor- mented.'* " Your blushes, when I have mentioned his name !" continued the unsparing catechiser, his excitement increasing with the sight of her emotion — " Oh Aline, I have noticed much of this of late — I cannot think so ill of you— you would not so debase yourself— but my love for you, as I said before, makes me very jealous — very watchful — promise me, do not take another lesson of that Italian." '* How absurd ! how veiy foolish you are. ALINE. Ill Lord Mervyn !" she exclaimed, attempting to smile, but with nervous agitation in her manner, and withdrawing the hand the young man had seized with passionate fervour : '^ Why should I not have my lesson to-day ? it is my last." *^ And you will not give it up for me ? Listen, Aline. I have told you that I love you. I have done so ever since we were children to- gether, but now more — much more — so fervently that it is the dearest wish of my heart — its sweetest dream, that you will some day become my wife. Our parents desire it — mine have already told me so. Now therefore, you know the cause of my deep jealousy and anxiety for you. Is it not justifiable — is it not natural? Will you not now say you love me — that you will one day accept me for your husband }" Aline only hung her head, pale and trem- bling. " You don't love me ?' the young man pas- sionately exclaimed. " Oh, yes, Lord Mervyn but " 112 ALINE. ^^ If SO, prove it ; do not see that Italian again.'* ^* I must, I must ! what would mamma say ? how should I excuse myself?" *' Easily — you can be ill — anything, Aline. Suspecting what I do, unless you promise me this, I shall feel it my duty to go to your father and mother, and " " Oh, no, no !" Aline cried, weeping passion- ately. *'Why — why is all this? yes, I will promise, but you too, I will never see again, never love. Be your wife, oh think it not, rather, far rather '* *'Be the Opera Singer's wife, perhaps V' re- torted Lord Mervyn, in a tone of kiUing scorn. '^ Rather, jfar rather !'* murmured Ahne, in a low voice, her tears ceasing suddenly, and an expression of resolute defiance beaming on her pale face. ''I wish you joy then, degraded girl 1^^ ex- claimed Lord Mervyn, gazing furiously on her " and I leave you to make room for your ac- ALINE. 113 knowledged lover. But no— that is what you desire— I will not so abandon you, till you have told me whether he has ever dared to speak to you— and if you have been so rash and deluded, as to listen to— words of love from that singing slave," *^If Signor Angelo were here, he would not allow you to name him thus— he is no slave, he has the soul and spirit of a gentleman." " He has at least an able champion in Miss Seyton ; but this is not now the question. Will you answer mine V ''You are too impertinent, I know not why I should answer you, but — " and she rose from her seat, " these shall be my last words to you, he has never spoken, and I have never listened to ought but what was good and amia- ble from his lips.*^ " Charming, no doubt !'^ replied the angry young man, in a mocking tone. " Well, Miss Seyton, I leave you to his amiable, kind speeches, I am going to the fete. I shall see 114 ALINE. Lady Adelaide there, but do not fear, I will not betray you, I will keep your secret." She stood some time in bewildered silence, he lingering as if still averse to leave her. *' What secret?" at length Aline murmured. '' That you love this Italian !" This was coming to the point, this must bring the denial the young man so ardently desired to hear. But no, it did not come. Aline's lips moved as if she would have spoken it, but no sound came. Again she had recourse to her dignity. ** Go — Lord Mervyn !'* she said, " this is enough, but do not think I shall remain at your mercy, I will go too and seek my father ; I will tell him all.'* Lord Mervyn looked at her for a moment doubtingly, but there was a truthful purpose expressed in the anxious, delicate countenance. He had perhaps been hard on one, so calm and innocent — his heart smote him for the torment- ALINE. 115 ing, perhaps unjustifiable inquisition to which he had submitted her, and his tender feeUngs towards the young, fair thing rushed back in their full force. He seized her hand, pressed it to his lips, and exclaimed — '^ Dear, dear Aline, you will ? — then all will be well, you will take no more of these lessons !" *' No no ! — only leave me ! Hush ! some one is coming !'^ and she cast a look of terror towards the door, which now opened. But it was only the governess, who looked somewhat scandalized at the unexpected discovery of her charge's companionship, particularly as the ap- pearance of both was somewhat flurried and ex- cited. " Miss Seyton/' she said, " there wants, I believe, half an hour to your singing lesson, so in the mean time I thought that perhaps— ^^ " Miss Sey ton will not take her singing lesson to day,'* Lord Mervyn said in a tone of com- mand, which made Miss Peters stare. 116 ALINE. " I think, my Lord, it is too late to make any alteration ; the Signor will soon arrive, and his time is precious." " Hang bis precious time ! — Miss Seyton is not well ; do you not see how pale she is ?" " Miss Seyton often looks pale — but are you really ill, my dear?" Miss Peters enquired. " Yes, no/' Ahne answered, '' not very well," and then there was a pause. Lord Mervyn took his hat and cane. " I must go now,^' he said. Then approach- ing Aline, he whispered. — " Aline you have promised me — remember — I shall be on the watch. I shall see him come. I shall see him go. If the time be long, I shall ask the man some questions which it may not be safe for him to answer — do not see him — do not receive him. Good morning. Miss Peters, I hai forgotten a message my sister commis- sioned me to give Miss Seyton — good morn- ing !'^ and he withdrew. '' What is all this about your singing lesson, ALINE. Wj Miss Seyton ?"' the governess resumed, as she gazed upon her pupil, who sat as in a dream, with pale and nervous countenance ; *^ the hour approaches.'^ " No no ! I cannot. Miss Peters. I will go to my father. I have something to say to him," and Aline was gone. The governess looked significantly after (as she began to suspect) the future Lady Mervyn. Of why and wherefore she sought the formid- able presence of her grave father, Aline had but a confused perception, but she felt a longing for some refuge, some help from the waves of trouble, perplexity, shame and weakness, which had risen up around her— some refuge from herself, from Mervyn, from Angelo, and where could she fly but to the parent nest, to the father who was kind, though stern,— tender, though grave and forbidding? She glided down the grand staircase— all was quiet in the mansion, and she felt, instead of fear, a soft tender feeling, foi which she herself 118 ALINE. could account ; but was she going to find re- lief from all the care and trouble of her heart on the bosom of her father, perhaps by her trustful conduct, to gain in him henceforth a friend and comforter, and break the icy barrier so long interposed between herself and this only parent 1 All other pains and passions seemed engulfed by these sweet, natural feelings. Aline arrived at the door of that same apart- ment through which she had been wont in her infancy to be carried to her father's knee, in in- nocent, unsuspecting confidence and fondness. Her heart beat fast, but with more of eager solicitude for the fulfilment of this new con- ceived project, than with her old sentiment of fear. Aline tremblingly turned the handle of the door and entered. She had closed it behind her, and advanced some timid steps forward ere she distinctly heard the murmur of several voices, and per- ALINE. 119 ceived that she had introduced herself into a party of eight or nine persons, seated in grave and earnest converse, of which the next moment she was the object of astonished observation. The voices simultaneously hushed, and she stood in the midst, thunder struck and sore dis- mayed. " Aline !'^ she heard her father murmur in a tone of the coldest and most amazed surprise, *' My dear AHne, what do you want?'' and the grave conclave rose out of respect to the daughter of their colleague. " Nothing, Father, nothing ! — I beg your par- don," she murmured in much confusion, raising her distressed and abashed eyes imploringly to his face ; " I thought you were alone or I would not have intruded. I will go/' and Ahne turned to depart. But she was stayed by a gallant as well as learned member of the conclave, who said, as he approached her and took her hand with much suavity — 120 ALINE. " No, no, Miss Seyton, we must not allow that, we are the intruders, if we are the cause of your expulsion. Pray, Sir Alexander, attend to your daughter — all business, even his Majesty's, must give place to that of a lady — above all, to one so fair.^' Whilst another distinguished individual of venerable and most fatherly countenance, said, looking with kind, benevolent expression on the young intruder, and pitying her embarrass- ment — " Yes, yes. Miss Seyton ; we will spare, and gladly too. Sir Alexander for a short time to you, and can do very well without him, in the interval ; your business is doubtless much more interesting to him. My daughters used often to have weighty, little matters to commimicate to me. Go, go, Sir Alexander !" "No/' murmured Aline, her confusion only redoubled. '^ No, no 1 not for the world. It was nothing of importance. — I can wait.^' ALINE. 121 " I should think so," Sir Alexander said with a dry, cold smile, his finger still resting on the passage on the parchment, in the perusal of which he had been interrupted ; and he glanced impatiently towards the door, through which Aline, with her unrelieved burden, must retreat. Yes, she must wait. The nation, which has so many fathers — so many counsellors, must be served, whilst the child, who has but one father, is cast back on her ovn strength — or rather, weakness. The senator must not yield to the parent. Public services — public duty must take place of private. This is not well ; but so it is, and, perhaps, in a worldly sense, so it must be. Then still more happy ought we to be that there is a Father in heaven, who, though the ruler of the world, the director of the universe, marks the meanest sparrow as it falls, clothes the lily of the field, and will never reject us when we come unto him for guidance and relief. VOL. I. ^ 122 ALINE. And where did Aline flj ? Like a bird fright- ened from the expected refuge of its nest, she fluttered back to the snare ! Yes, some spell seemed to draw her steps back to the scene of danger and temptation. She returned to the music room. The door was opened from within by another hand, and she stood directly facing Signer Angelo, as with slow regretful steps, having received his dismissal from the governess, he was about to leave the house. His face lighted up with a ray of pleasure, on first beholding Aline, and then he glanced, with some surprise and anxiety, on the painful agitation expressed by her countenance and ap- pearance. "And you will not sing to day?'' he en- quired in the gentlest accents ; '' and yet you are not ill ?" "No, not ill, but go, pray go — oh, Signor Angelo !" And she hid her face in her hands. ALIXE. 123 as he continued, in tones of the deepest me- lancholy — « My Lord Mervyn has been with you, I understand/' "What, what!" she gasped in terror. " How did you know I had seen him ?" " Oh, I have myself just met him riding near the house, and received a glance, which, inno- cent as I am of the offence, I often receive from Lord Mervyn." " Ah, yes, yes !" and Ahne clasped her hands in an agony of supplication ; "then for mercy's sake stay no longer, oh, he will be so enraged, he will insult, he will kill you — and I —and you — will be lost for ever !" A glance of rapture illumined the counte- nance of the Italian. " 3Iia Alina, mia AlinaT' he breathed in a low voice, whose thrilling tones, more than the gentle force of the hand which pressed her own, drew her to his side. G 2 124 ALINE. "You— I — am lost? PercM, perche mia bene? perche io famo perche tu rnami V* Oh weak, weak, young hearts ! Ahne, you were lost indeed, had Lord Mervyn seen you at that moment I ALINE. 125 CHAPTER IX, •* Fill the bright goblet, spread the festive board ! Summon the gay, the noble, and the fair'! Through the loud hall, in joyous concert pour'd, Let mirth and music sound. But ask thou not if happiness be there, Lift not the festal mask !" Lord op the Isles. The Seytons left town soon after this day. The young people proceeded to their beauti- ful country home, Sir Alexander and his lady on a short tour of visits, prev'ous to joining their family at Merriford. Aline Seyton brought not back the free, un- shackled heart of her childhood to the woods and shades of Merriford ; fihe could not walk 126 ALINE. amidst her guileless sisters as before, and joy as they did in the innocent amusements of former days. She came with a secret, a concealment in her bosom. I do not mean to condemn her love — my young readers would smile at the old man implying as a crime, innocent love, excited involuntarily in the heart, and for one so fitted to inspire it. No, as long as that love led not Aline from duty, it might rather be looked on as a pitiable than an unpardonable weakness— one v\hich indeed she might have felt the necessity, the duty, of struggling to subdue, but need not so much as have blushed to feel. But this was not now the case ; she had left the right path, she had entered the wrong, she had yielded to the weakness, and had become a deceiver. The deceiver must be bold and strong ; wit- ness therefore her becalmed eye, her unblushing, unblanching cheek. From that day of temptation she had a part to play— she must not betray ALINE. 127 herself, or another— she must live for the day of reunion, when with the professional corps, he would arrive, whom she now, without shame or sense of degradation, had learnt to think on as her acknowledged, her accepted lover, to whom, by promise, her fate was hnked. With his image was her soul now filled, as she roved at hberty amidst the sylvan shades of Merriford, weav- ing romantic visions of the future, when all difficulties and obstacles — by some means, — overpast, she should have commenced the life, so brightly coloured by her imagination, with the husband of her choice. What a rise, instead of a fall, to her concep- tion would it be, to follow the path of so gifted a being ! Into what a world of interest, romance, refinement, — yes, that mental refinement, with which talent surrounds its possessor — its lustre how far brighter— how superior to the glare of rank and circumstances,— would that path lead her! The countries they would visit, the atmosphere of gen'. us in which she 128 ALINE. would exist in lovely Italy ! — and then to meet her much loved uncle, the appreciater and warm admirer of talent — of beauty and genius in every form and shape ! He, if all the praud world else should turn their backs upon him, would prize and welcome her gifted husband as his relative , But, as yet, these were only abstracted ideas, apart from the doubts and fears of the present prospect, — for, of how the fulfilment of these happy visions was to be brought about, she had no defined comprehension. Aline had not gone so far as the contemplation of the bold step, whose often recurrence has, of late, become the disgrace of our day. The most desperate projects of redress which she had formed extended but to tears and kneel- ing and earnest supplication. Oft denials — angry, scornful denials, she anticipated, but still in the end, with the sanguine, hopeful spirit of youth, by some strange means were to be achieved, consent and victory 1 ALINE. 129 Her parents' return was the signal for pre- parations for the intended festival, in which Aline was to be allowed more freely to join — for reasons the most destructive to her airy castles. The prospect presented itself of an early marriage for the step-daughter. The moment arrived — the company began to assemble, and among the first arrivals, were the two Ladies Marchmont, and Lord Mervyn. The meeting between the young lord and Aline — considering that they had not met since the last stormy interview we related — was one of less outward embarrassment than might have been expected. Lord Mervyn was all tenderness and devo- tion, and Aline, alas ! was forced to play the hypocrite, and, in self-defence, to r.ppear to for- get and forgive his offence towards her, to strive hard to avert the jealous suspicion which had made her tremble for the arrival of the critical moment. G 3 130 ALINE. They touched not on the subject of the ex- pected professors. When the theme was broached in their presence, they each listened silently, with averted eyes. The house at length filled, and the day be- fore the arrival of the royal guest, a carriage stopped at the door, containing the musical party. It was composed of Signor Angelo, another performer of the same sex and country, an English vocalist, patronised by his royal high- ness, the German Madame C, and a young pupil of the last named Italian, who had not yet appeared on the stage. Unfortunately for xVline, she was at a window of an apartment commanding a view of the entrance, Lord Mer- vyn by her side ; and too conscious, even if her trembling limbs would have allowed her to retreat — she was forced to remain and listen to the comments, which his lordship, with ma- licious pleasure, made on the party then alighting. ALINE. 131 Others too, were around, joining in the criti- cism, and she must not even turn her head to hide the palor which had overspread her coun- tenance at first sight of the vehicle, which, from its appearance — the huge violincello on the top, and the small guitar, (on which, as an accompaniment, the Italian girl was par- ticularly^ skilled,) gave, at the first coup d'ceul, such manifest tokens of the characters of its occupants. The dark, snuff-begrimed countenance of the elder Italian, was visible at the window, and, on the door being opened by the domestics, he was the first to alight, gesticulating and chattering. " What a beast !" was the critique bestowed upon him by Lord Mervyn, as the man stood gabbling with the little German, who was the next to bustle out, and in her harsh gut- teral, half French, half English, was direct- ing the disposal of her goods, and equally excited the satirical merriment of the lookers- 132 ALINE. on. Then Signor Angelo sprung out, and turned directly to assist the descent of Miss Firrs, a lady of somewhat large dimensions, whose broad foot and thick ancles received their due compliment of notice, but except a few wit- ticisms from the gentlemen on the " Arigel^^ and some affected exclamations from the ladies which greeted him — Angelo passed tolerably well through the ordeal. Then, last and least, a diminutive figure, shabbily equipped, was with the utmost gentleness and kindness, handed, or rather lifted out by the young Italian, and being set upon the ground, stood the size of a child of thirteen, and attracted, in her turn, the remarks of the lookers-on. *' In the name of all that is wonderful, who is that mite ? — what a creature to take the place of ^^ (the great 'prima donna of the sea- son, of whose services Lady Adelaide had been disappointed.) '* Oh, she is a prodigy they say," exclaimed ALINE. 133 another, ^' and I caught a glimpse of a fine pair of eyes, and jet black hair ; somewhat of a 3Iig- non, or a Fenella, I presume, and I dare say great fun, — but such a gabbering, did you ever hear ? What a journey they must have had ! I cannot say I envy the gentlemen their fair companions.'' In the meantime, Signor Angelo — as he stood until the unnecessary bustle and excitement of the trio had subsided, (the Uttle Italian girl re- maining as if for protection by his side) — formed a strong contrast to his companions ; his de- meanour was calm, gentlemanlike, his coun- tenance very pale, very grave, denoting some impatience of the scene ; nevertheless, a pang of shame and humiUation, — a shght warning and foretaste of the future, — shot through Aline's heart, on beholding him, who, until now, she had seen standing alone in his genius and talent, or only surrounded his fellow per- formers in character, not in the common des- habille in which they were now displayed to view. 134 ALINE. This circumstance gave Aline a lesson. She saw with v\hat contempt and 'persiflage the proud and scornful of her own degree, treat so- ciety of which they form not a part, and she felt an inward shrinking when she saw, or fancied she saw, a sidelong glance from Lord Mervyn, cast upon her. Her relief was great, when she was able to escape and fly to her own room, for she trembled lest the professors should be introduced into her presence, and she would not for worlds have met him at that moment. A groundless fear was this however, for orders had been given that the artistes should immedi- ately be shown to the department of the man- sion, apportioned for their accommodation. But she knew that Signor Angelo, and Miss Firrs were to be invited to join the dinner party that evening, and nervously, as may be supposed, she awaited that trial. At the appointed hour, Aline descended to the drawing-room as usual w^ith her step-mother. ALINE. 135 The guests assembled. He came at last — she heard his voice — her heart throbbed fast, but she dared not even lift up her eyes ; Lord Mervyn was by her side. Diuner was announced. Lord Mervyn did not, as usual, appropriate her, as his companion, but having offered his arm to a dowager, and seen Aline accept that of a raw youth of large expectations, who sidled up bashfully to request the honour, he managed, on entering, to appro- priate seats exactly opposite to her. And Aline felt her eyes again riveted on her plate, by the terrors of his strict and watchful scrutiny, whilst absently she answered, or forced herself to make some incoherent remarks to her neighbour, who began to fancy he had at last fcund one being as shy and embarrassed as himself. Waxing impatient of these demonstrations of her own cowardice, with a desperate effort, Aline turned her eyes with quiet timidity around in the direction from which, ever and anon, she heard the sweet, flute-like, piercing tones proceed, 136 ALINE. and those eyes, so melancholy and so mild, were fixed full upon her — the blood mounted to her face in torrents. " Aline, will you have some wine ?" she heard a voice at that moment exclaim, and starting, she bowed her face, the colour of the snowy damask, from which her trembling hand at- tempted, but in vain, to lift her glass. She raised her eyes no more that night. Signor Angelo delighted the company with a song, fortunately. Aline was not allowed by Lady Adelaide, to comply with the entreaties of the company— her voice was to reserve all its powers for the ensuing week. The next morning was to be devoted by the musicians, professional and amateurs, to the arrangement and rehearsal of the per- formances of the nightly entertainments with which the royal visitor was to be treated during his stay at Merriford. Even on this exclusive occasion, Lord Mervyn managed to obtain Lady Adelaide's ALINE. 137 permission to be present — a privilege accounted for by the rest of the company, by the suppo- sition which the devoted attention of Lord Mervyn to Miss Seyton, now estabhshed as a certainty, that a matrimonial engagement subsisted between them. My readers, I will not weary myself^ or you, by a minute relation of that, which, as you are already acquainted with the sequel, would be to me lost labour, and to you but a tiresome relation ; suffice it that the strict vigilance of the jealous suitor continued to impose, not only that morning, but on every future occasion, such restraint over their intercourse, that no word or look could pass between those two beings, who had exchanged such words, such looks together. All remarked how the gay, the handsome, the agreeable Angelo had become dispirited, and altered in looks, but this was accounted for by his delicate health, and only made him more in- teresting in the eyes of his admirers. As for the 138 ALINE. weak, young Aline, borne on by the excitement of all that surrounded her, none remarked any difference in her, nor knew the painful disquiet gnawing at her heart. Even Lord Mervyn was so satisfied, his sus- picions were so allayed, that two days before the party was to break up, he renewed the pro- posal he ha4 in some sort made, in their strange interview in the music saloon. But with prayers and tears, pleading her youth and inexperience, Aline again implored him to cease his suit, and not even mention the subject to her parents. But of his intentions, Lord Mervyn, with ominous coldness, informed her, Sir Alexander and Lady Adelaide were already well informed ; nevertheless, assuring her, that, as for none else but her, he would have exposed himself to the risk of a second refusal, she need not fear his molestation a third time, and then he left her abruptly. Aline was soon after summoned to Lady Adelaide, and with more severity than she had ALINE. 139 ever yet met with from her stepmother, was re- buked for her fooUsh and unreasonable conduct, in having thus hastily rejected an offer so de- sirable in every respect, and so favoured by her father, who contemplated the marriage as a settled affair, and would be greatly dis- pleased by her behaviour on the occasion. Lord Mervyn, she said, talked of leaving Mer- riford the next day, and her capricious conduct would place them in a very disagreeable posi- tion with regard to his mother and sister, who were amongst the assembled guests, indeed perhaps occasion a breach between the two famiUes, very painful, considering the long friendship subsisting between them. Lady Adelaide requested also an explanation of the hints Lord Mervyn had thrown out, con- cerning some suspected obstacle between him and her affections. It was with cold astonishment her ladyship witnessed the effect these words produced on 140 ALINE. the young girl — the terror and confusion with which they seemed to inspire her. And when Lady Adelaide pressed for an ex- planation, with stammering tongue and crim- soned cheek, Aline muttered — ^^She did not know what Lord Mervyn meant — she only felt she could not love him, could not marry him — at least, not now." " Not now, of course, foolish girl !" rejoined her stepmother more mildly ; " we do not wish you to marry on the spot — not for months, — perhaps a year, when you will have been intro- duced ; but the engagement is already an un- derstood thing,^' And Lady Adelaide continued to descant to the weeping girl on all the advantages of posi- tion, rank and fortune, as well as person, pos- sessed by her suitor ; and the reproach, and, as it might have appeared by her expressions, al- most disgrace, which his summary rejection would draw upon her. *'Yes really," observed Lady Emily, who ALIXE. 141 had been let into the secret, and entered in the midst of the lecture, " she deserves nothing better than to be Tvhipped, and sent to bed like an obstinate child, if with no other reasons than those she chooses to give, she persists in such nonsense.'* And when Aline, in terror of a renewed catechising, on the subject of Lord Mervyn's insinuation, and of an interview with her father, suffered a promise to be wrung from her, that if Lord Mervyn would wait till the following day, she would consider the matter more fully be- fore she ultimately decided, fain would she have undergone the latter part of the punishment Lady Emily proposed, and have gone to hide her head in darkness and solitude, rather than face the light, the voice, the music, but more than all, her open, and her secret lovers, that even- ing — the one to whom, against her inclination, she felt that she was about to yield — the other, against her heart, her conscience, treacherously — and, as it must seem, unhesitatingly to 142 ALINE. abandon, as if her love had been a dream, its declaration a song ! And she had no power to explain, to tell him all she felt, all she suffered — that if she were sacrificed, she was no wiUing victim. But her mother desired her to retire to com- pose herself, for her evening's appearance, de- siring her to conciliate Lord Mervyn as much as possible by her manner, and behaviour to- wards him. ALINE. 143 CHAPTER X. " Farewell ! I never more will see Those eyes, — but hide, far off my pain ; And thou wilt have forgotten me, Or smile thou see''st me not again- Live happy, in thy happier lot ; And I will strive, (ift so must be) To think 'tis well to be forgot, Since it may keep a pang from thee." Barry Cornwall. As Aline was passing to her own room, she had occasion to cross a gallery, where the sound of song reached her ear. It was the Italian girl singing to the young Seytons, who formed a circle around her ; they with their fairy forms, and fair elfin locks, prettily con- 144 ALINE. irasting with the dark, not lovely, but inte- resting young being — the poor pupil, who was suffered, when released from the severe master, or the exigeant company she was employed to amuse, to lend her services for the entertain- ment or improvement of the children of the family. She stopped her song when Aline, her handkerchief to her eyes, would have passed hastily by, but was stopped by one of the little party, who begged her to stay and listen to one song from Lucia, whilst the child fixed her gaze curiously on her sister's swollen eyelids, and woe-struck countenance. " Go on, Lucia !" she cried. But no — Lucia was silent and turned away, suddenly saying she must go — and she departed abruptly, to tell Signor Angelo, with a kind of malicious elation, that she had seen the pale, young lady whom he loved and she hated, pass by, her eyes red with weeping. •'And pray why do you hate her Lucia?" ALINE. 145 asked the elder Italian, who with Madame C. was in the room with Angelo. ** Because he loves her/' she laconically answered, placing herself on a stool at the young man's feet, as he sat dejectedly leaning his head upon his hand. *^ Because he loves her/' she continued, glancing up to his face with a look of a sullen child, " and will not speak to me." Angelo hfted up his face suffused with a deep blush and frowned upon the child ; and with- drawing, with a gesture of impatience, the hand of which she had caressingly taken possession, said sternly, " TaceteV^ whilst the other man laughed loud, exclaiming coarsely, " So Lucia has guessed your secret, x^mico ! well who knows what your begli ccchi may do for you— never be faint hearted — carry her off to Italy, and train her into a prima donna. She sings like an angel and would make a sensation VOL. I. H 146 ALINE. at the Russian Opera next year ; as the Signora Alina she will make your fortune. Angelo rising with a still more stern tone, and a gesture of disgust, repeated the same com- mand, and left the room. He entered his apartment, and, having sadly meditated for a few moments, sat down to write. That evening whilst Aline was singing a duet with Signor Angelo, Lord Mervyn at his post of observation, though at a greater distance than usual, she suddenly turned as pale as death, and fainted in the arms of the Italian. In the general dismay, for the first moment she was allowed to remain there like a broken lily — he standing motionless the while with a mild, sweet, blissful expression on his countenance. But the next, he was rudely relieved of his burden by Lord Mervyn, who pierced through the circle which was forming round the sense- less form, and almost dragged her from his sup- port- ALINE. 147 ^^ Carry her into the air !" exclaimed one of the party, and Mervyn bore her, followed by Lady Adelaide, into the conservatory. Ere however he reached it. Aline had begun to revive and open her eyes. Her first movement was to plunge her hand into her bosom, murmuring, " My letter — where is my letter? ah !" and then with an expression half of relief, half of fear, she pressed her hand upon it, as if for the pro- tection of some treasure there concealed ; then struggling to free herself from Lord Mervyn's support, said hurriedly, '^ I am better — I am quite well." A quick, suspicious glance shot across Lord Mervyn's countenance, as he heard the words, and noted the movement into which she had been betrayed. He looked as if he fain would have forced away the protecting hana, and torn the suspected treasure from its snowy sanc- tuary. But even if he had so dared. Lady Adelaide and others were now with them ; her father H 2 148 ALINE. had hastened to the spot with tender anxiety, but none save Mervyn had heard the excla- mation of AUne, who was now seated, inhahng the restoratives brought for her use, and soon suffered herself to be led upstairs to her bed- room, where, having been left by Lady Adelaide for repose, she resisted the proposition of her maid, to allow herself to be undressed, and begged to be left quietly alone for a little while. When the servant returned in a quarter of an hour, she found the door locked, and her young lady answered from within, that she had un- dressed herself, and was in bed and inclined to sleep, and that she might not be disturbed, she had fastened the door. But even as she spoke. Aline might still have been seen seated, dressed, as the servant had left her, in a large arm chair, a letter in her hand wet with the tears which had been falling fast upon it. The maid again retired. Again Aline perused the epistle. Let us read it also, though so doing, — poor, imprudent ALINE. 149 wilful girl ! may draw upon you more blame, win for you less pity from the wise and right thinking, than my partial heart would desire. But I must be just^ and this story I humbly trust may be looked upon as a moral lesson to the young and thoughtless — vTould that it might warn one of such from the folly it sets forth ! The letter was written in Italian, and I pre- tend not to do it justice by my rough translation, but it ran thus — " SiGXORINA, *' Forgive my boldness in thus venturing to address you. Fear not. It is in no spirit of pre- sumption, with no desire to remind you of what has passed between us, that I thus have dared ; no, rather I write to implore you to forget the past, to let it not stand in the way of your welfare, your own happiness, the natural desires of your family concerning your destiny ! And to be plain, I well know to what end their wishes tend. " I know that your hand is promised to ano- 150 ALINE. ther — to Lord Mervyn ! I see your trouble and perplexity, I hear of your tears. "Alina! once more, only once more, let me call you by that sweet name, a sound my lips must not again presume to utter — ^Zzwa, let not the remem- brance of my love trouble you, or draw forth those tears. Let it be to you as a forgotten dream. The Italian singer will depart to-morrow from your sight. Elsewhere will he pursue his voca- tion — perhaps never again return to England ; but should fate bring him back to these shores, he will then be to you no more than he should ever have been, the humble cantatore on whom the ladies of the land may look, to listen, and admire, but never love. ^* Ah, how weak, selfish, unworthy, unwise, did my sentiment for one so fair and gentle, render me ! — What momentary presumption did it excite — I was in mercy punished as I deserved. ^' I came here to the mansion of your parents — my kind, confiding patrons ! with the vain. ALINE. 151 treacherous hope that the affection, or rather the passing weakness of my lovely pupil, which in a moment of agitation she had betrayed, might, whilst dwelling for a blissful period beneath the same roof together, still form a dear but secret link between us. " I am punished— God be praised, that so it has been ! for what could have resulted from such love as ours, in our different circumstances and positions 1 To me misery, to you disgrace in the eyes of the proud world. I read my punishment in your averted looks, your embarrassed mien, your confusion, your avoidance of me — by the sight of the devoted lover, ever at your side, — permitted, if not encouraged — by the whispers of all around, that you are destined for one another. I saw the trouble, which, in my pre- sence, such devotion on Lord Mervyn's part, in- flicted upon you. Let it no longer distress you. I hear that you have refused him, and thus ex- cited the anger of your friends. Presuming then to feel that I may, in some way, be connected 152 ALINE. with your rejection of this honourable suit, I write to intreat you, fair, young, gentle lady, to allow no scruples, no self-reproach on my ac- count, to weigh upon your conscience in this matter. I give you back your heart — ah ! that you could restore me mine ! '' Yes ; bestow it on a worthier object, on that young nobleman, who will at least raise you to the level which your birth, your nurture, doth demand. ^' And let me comfort my repining heart, and reassure your tender pity, by the suggestion — What, if the dream had been realized ? — if fate, cruelly kind, had united us, and made you mine ? Weak, weak heart, how it thrills with that bold idea 1 What, if so it had been — and the high born, high bred lady, had sunk to the grade of Carlo Angelo, who, to maintain him- self, and wife, must barter his time, his healthy nay, perhaps his life, for gold ? '* What, if time had brought to her, repent- ance of her act — impatience at her position — ALINE. 153 disgust for his vocation, ah ! even diminished affection towards him ? " What then would remain to him to do, but either live on in hopeless misery and self-re- proach, or die, the only means whereby to set her free and restore her to the grade in life, from which he had withdrawn her ? No, — indeed it is well ! Signorina, you have done wisely, kindly, and so my sore heart will try to feel. Adieu, be happy ! and time then, perchance, may restore peace to the heart of — ■ Carlo Angelo/' This then was the letter, which, whilst stoop- ing together over the music in search of aduei^ the writer had slipped into the hands of Aline, and which she, without any outward sign of dis- comfiture and surprise, had received and pressed into her bosom. But the real effect on her overstrained nerves — the excited feelings which this transaction had produced — may be divined from the sequel. And now she had drawn forth with trembUng H 3 154 ALINE. eagerness the hidden billet, and as often as her dizzy eyes would enable her to fix and compre- hend the characters, had perused its contents. What would he say now, who had once poured into her ears such tender words — the true language of love compared with that cold egotism of her English lordly lover little worth the name ? How eager was she to catch once more the re-awakened strain, that strain so long hushed, even if its language were changed from sweet flattery to bitter reproach. Any thing from him, from his heart ! She read and her cheek burnt, her breast was pierced. No eloquence, no tender warmth, was there — cold — cold, measured, were those first lines. He cast back her love upon Lord Mervyn ! But the irrepressible outburst of tenderness which followed, reassured her pride ; the ardent struggle to restrain the expression of his own feelings — the delicacy with which he refrained from allusions to her own part in the love pas- sage of a former day — the whole spirit which ALINE. 155 pervaded the epistle, and pierced pathetically to her heart, through the simple resignation of its language. Her heart dissolved once more in tears of tenderness and sympathy. *' Carlo, Carlo ?' she murmured, though never before had she called him by that name, even to herself. " Thine, Carlo ! thine ! and why not thine ? never another's will I be. A dream, a for- gotten dream ! No, never to me shalt thou be as such. Shame — humiliation to be thine ! the talented, the good, the beautiful ! No more meet thee ! To be driven like a slave, to wed with one against whom my heart revolts — And why ? — Not because he is more good, more talented, more beautiful, — but richer, more nobly born ! Carlo, you shall no longer toil alone ; my talents, poor indeed, in comparison to yours, shall assist, shall lighten your labours. We will toil and sing for ever together, or when you are ill or weary, AHne will sing, and Carlo shall 156 ALINE. Thus the excited girl mused — bright visions illumining her eyes. But, " I depart to-morrow, from hence, from England.'* At the sight of those words, the visions seemed dispelled. To-morrow — left to the power of her step- mother, and the influence of Lord Mervyn, with only her weak spirit to oppose them — her fears, her cowardice ! — oh, what should she do to stop him — to see him — to speak to him once more, though for what purpose she scarcely knew ? Dim, undefined at least were the suggestions which arose in her mind. But who knows, to what dangerous path one hasty, ill-advised step may lead ? ALINE. CHAPTER XL " There she sees, a damsel bright Drest in a silken robe of white — That shadowy in the moonlight shone. The neck that made that white robe wan, Her stately neck, and arms were bare. * * * * ♦ And wildly glittered here and there The gems entangled in her hair, I guess 'twas frightful there to see A lady so richly clad as she, Beautiful, exceedingly." Coleridge. And where did Aliae bend her steps ? Hav- ing risen and unlocked her door, she opened it, and glancing without, stood one minute listening — her face pale, but bright with the 158 ALINE. inward excitement to which she had worked her mind. Whither should she go? for she could no longer remain in solitude — in inaction. She must move, she must act. She must tell some one of her feelings — her madness, if so they pleased to call it ; and Carlo Angelo must not depart, without the knowledge of her un- changed affection. He should not depart, deem- ing her love the passing fancy of a weak girl ; he should know that for his love, she would sacrifice every thing. But how tell him all this ? A passing thought had been, to fly to her father, brave his anger and cold surprise, so but at least it might reach her lover's ears, that she was not ashamed to confess her love for him, even to that proud father. But no ! — she drew back from the formidable idea, which, even in her exaltation of spirit, that distantly removed, unsympathising father pre- sented to her mind — the last attempt of the kind she had made, and its consequent embarrassing failure, rising up to scare her still more And ALINE. 159 indeed fearfully did she recoil from the idea o£ the curling lip and disdainful eye, the sharp or bitter words, which such a declaration, such an appeal as she meditated, would draw upon her from her beautiful step-mother ; towards whom of late, the innocent adoration of her childhood, and the more mingled feelings of her increasing years, had been gradually changing into senti- ments more questionable, less amiable ; per- haps she had begun by degrees to feel her true position, as the step-daughter of a still young and lovely woman ; nay, there might even have dawned upon her the hideous symp- toms of a spirit of jealousy, rivalry, — those de- structive enemies to love and confidence, admi- ration and respect. Slight and trivial were the signs, but still she felt that so it was. Alas ! there are, I fear, many daughters by blood and nature too, in this same grade of fashion, who have experienced something of this sort. 160 ALINE. No ! Aline would go to neither father nor mother ; she had no friend or confidant either, to whom to have recourse, to aid her in this emergency, one on which her peace of mind and welfare, and that of Carlo, so much depended. But ! — a thought flashed across her mind, and after musing for a moment, she glided on in the direction leading to the apartments ap- propriated to the professors ; — she could do so without fear of encountering any one. It was Saturday night, and all the household, in this well arranged establishment, had retired before midnight ; it was an hour past that time now, and all was quiet as sleep itself. On, the unhappy Aline passed, her shaded lamp in her hand, through the passages, down the flight of stairs conducting to her desti- nation, the only sound, the rustling of her white silk dress. Breathless, she paused for a moment's thought before a door, and then murmured in a low hurried voice, " Madame C." ALINE. 161 There was a pause, then a step, and the door was opened, as by an abi'upt, impatient hand. But instead of the plain, good-natured face of the German, appeared the strange, olive- complexioned countenance, peering darkly upon her, with long, black hair hanging dishevelled about it, of the little Italian girl. " Che voleteV^ she exclaimed, almost before perceiving the identity of the intruder, and she started back a pace on perceiving the white clad figure of Miss Seyton. " I guess 'twas frightful there to see A lady so richly clad as she, Beautiful exceedingly." And with an expression of somewhat more of suspicious curiosity, than courteous respect, Lucia said, " Madame C. was still in the sitting- room, with Signor, and Miss H.," and the young singer held the door, as if she did not 162 ALINE. much desire any continued intercourse with her untimely visiter. It was to Madame C, well known and liked by the family, that the care and comfort of her companions, the professors, had been committed, that lady holding herself respon- sible for the decency and good order of the party, whilst under her patron's roof. She had taken the young Italian girl under her chaperonage and protection, and established her in her own apartment ; and, apparently to carry out to the full her kind anxiety for the bodily and mental health of this almost child, the good lady had sent her to bed, whilst the elders lingered over the enjoy- ment of the good repast, with which they were every night supplied. Aline abashed, and discomposed, hesitat- ingly murmured — "It does not signify. It is of no conse- quence/' and retreated. Lucia watched her through the half closed ALINE. 163 door, stood another instant irresolute, then sprang hastily forward, and disappeared Aline had heard the sound of an opening door, with that of voices, from some neighbour- ing apartment, and with a sudden impulse of shame and fear, at being thus strangely dis- covered, fled to avoid the rencontre thus threat- ened by the approaching footsteps. Finding her only access, for that purpose, to be a door standing open, leading to a kind of raised terrace, which faced this portion of the mansion, she turned lightly aside, and stood without, her lamp extinguished by the air, into which it was so quickly transported. Aline stood motionless, a pale, ghost - like figure, her white dress, shining shadowy, the jewel on her brow faintly glistening in the moon-light. She stood in trouble, and in terror, for she found herself with one, the last, yet the first, she would, in that moment of agitation, have wished to meet— Carlo Angelo ! 164 ALINE. He too looked as if he had seen an appari- tion, when, roused by the rusthng of her robe from the deep reverie, in which he leaned against the balustrade, he turned his face, as pale as her own, beneath the moon-beams. Yet more lustrous still, the large, dark eyes, w^hich gUstened so darkly bright upon the fair intruder in his solitude. "AHna — Miss Seyton !" he murmured, with profound respect, as he approached her doubt- fully. " Signor Angelo, I did not— I did not — ex- pect to meet you here !" she now tremblingly, blushingly, replied. He was silent, but held her hand within his own, and gazed upon her face. What less could he do ? And she withdrew it not, but looked aw^ay and smiled — hung her head and wept. Then he reassured her, calmed her, so tenderly, yet still so reverently, and she began to explain, — at least, to attempt to do so. ALINE. 165 " His letter— Madame C." He heard little besides, yet seemed to under- stand, to be satisfied, yes, more than satisfied, — even to be plunged in the fulness of ecstacy ; and he soon heard all, slowly and by degrees, but all in the end, and more perhaps than what Madame C. was to have heard, ah ! more indeed than that ! And his pale melancholy had vanished — his scruples, his disinterestedness, his duty to her parents ! He was the bright, the happy, the hopeful lover ! And Aline consented to give up all — home, duty, affections, maiden pride, maiden pro- priety, and fly with him at once, quickly, un- hesitatingly, ere the things they feared — the difficulties and dangers of their several posi- tions — again interposed between them. ' The hour, the opportunity was good. But the white dress, the bare and whiter arms^ was that a garb fit for travelling guise ? Angelo re- luctantly — fearfully urged her to depart, to 166 ALINE. make some change of apparel — they must sepa- rate for a brief space. But Aline's step faltered, she lingered, she hesitated, as if afraid of the long, dark way back to her apartment, with the load of meditated treachery to carry — perhaps she had some presentiment of accident and discovery ; or perchance, she fancied her heart might have failed her when reflection or ne- cessity for exertion roused her to a clear sense of what she was about to do. Finally turning, she clasped her hands and murmured — "I am afraid, F cannot — cannot go — if I do, I shall never, never return,^' and she clung to him, whilst he folded her in his arms and wept. Angelo then looked round. The terrace on which they stood had been appropriated by the professors, as a kind of lounge in their leisure hours. The musician there smoked his cigars — there Miss Firrs deigned indolently to stroll and ALINE. 167 flirt a little, Madame C. to chatter and lounge, Lucia to twang her guitar, or follow Angelo in his saunterings, with her keen or sullen eyes, when he had coldly repulsed her attempts to attract his notice. Fragments of the aforesaid cigars were still strewed on the ground, and other relics of the party, for the removal of which, the servants had been too busy to attend. There was even a large cloak of the ItaKan girl's lying care- lessly in a corner. It was on this, that Angelo, in his time of need, fixed his eyes. He stooped — raised the mantle, and doubt- fully offered it to Aline for a covering. It was not rejected, and Angelo wrapped the dark cloak over Aline's form — her silken, shining dress glistening like a cloud be- neath — or rather, fitter emblem ! — like the fair, pure maiden name and fame now about to be so blackened over by a deed, the most ill-ad- vised which a maiden — apart f.om actual guilt — can commit. 16S ALINE. *• Her doom is writ, her name is grown Familiar in the common mouth. And she, who was, when all unknown. Like sunbeam bursting from the south," is overshadowed by a step too questionable, too notorious for one of that sex of whom it has been said, " The most perfect amongst them are those of whom neither good nor bad ever is heard.^' sj: * * * Hours of terror and suspense seemed to Aline the few moments, during which, having been thus equipped, she was left upon the Terrace, till Angelo, more provident than her- self, returned with a writing-desk under his arm. He drew her on : the first step she m ade was irresolute — lingering, she looked back — repenting fondness for those she left filling her heart at that moment. Afraid, she felt to go, but loath to return, like all weak tremblers on the brink of evil. ALINE. 169 Her companion paused. " Aline !" he murmured fearfully, but ear- nestly, " do you — will you repent V " No— noP' she faintly gasped, and they went forth together. VOL. I 370 ALINE. CHAPTER XII. " Oh, unhappy girl ! Who would be a father ? O Heaven ! how got she out I O treason of the blood ! Fathers, from hence, trust not your daughters' mind, By what you see them act." Othello. They went forth; they did what many un- thinking, wild, young people have done before them, with more or less excuse. The old man must not, in his partial tender- ness for one amongst that number, cast a veil over or extenuate a deed, which, for their own sake — for that of their friends, and the common- wealth of social England — demands our sternest ALINE. 171 reprobation, our sharpest rigour. But the old man's heart has grown too soft and weak, to wield with will or power, the mentor's rod. He casts it down and weeps when he ought to condemn — mourns for Aline and all the fair, young things, who by indiscretion, such as hePs, have drawn upon themselves in after days, dis- tress of mind, body, or estate. If misfortune be the consequence of— to use the mildest term — the ill advised action, will it not bear with it besides the barbed arrow — the sharp sting of self-reproach ? My young friends snatch not the fruit, which hangs upon the tree of life ; wait in faith and patience. In its hours of ripeness it will drop gently at your feet — shaken by the breath of Providence, and that will be sweet and pleasant to your taste, which otherwise you may find so bitter. Some one, I think, has written the chronicles of Gretna Green. Let another indite the after history of its votaries. Looking at the^^nd of 1/2 ALINE. these things, might prove a more useful under- taking. I conceive, that for one 2m-repented, there might be proved a hundred rued — or at least regretted marriages of this kind. Though that too notorious receptacle for *' j^oung men and maidens '^ in similar straits as that we are now about with grief to tell, and which is I hear, about to be closed by law, against fugi- tives of the kind, — was open to our adventurers, the ignorance and innocence of our young pair, seem to have prevented their avaiUng themselves of the proffered convenience. By Angelo, a foreigner and stranger to the ways and means of accommodation England .ffords for such purposes, neither the name nor character of Gretna was perhaps known nor understood — by the strictly educated girl, pro- bably almost as little. They went forth ; they walked down to the river's side, which, in order more expeditiously to arrive at the village inn, they must cross. The boat was moored and fastened to the brink. Then there was the nervous moment of its un- ALINE. 173 fastening— in the mean time. Aline standing shivering, trembling, from head to foot, for the rope was coiled and knotted, rendering it a difficult task, which however the dexter- ous fingers of the Italian — though all unused to such rough work — speedily accomplished. Then entering with his fair companion, An- gelo took up the oars and made for the opposite bank, which with some little difficulty, the un- skilled boatman reached in safety. And once more, they hurried on in silence and nervous haste to the destined inn. There, with some difficulty and grumbling, at the unseasonable hour for such application, the singer, and his professed sister companion in the art w^ere sup- plied with requisites for a speedy flight to Lon- don. And when the metropolis was reached, then what should they do ? Aline, with the simple confidence of her youth and inexperience, never cared to ask. She thought all must be right in the end, mdeed, never 174 ALTNE. dreamt of a possibility of its being otherwise. And fortunately, in this case, confidence was not misplaced. They entered London. The obscure locality to which to avoid detection she was taken, the strange people to whom they were constrained to apply for assistance in the emergency, and finally the hurried ceremony, which legally was but half accomplished, for Angelo was a Roman Catholic —all this in after days seemed to Aline' s mind as a confused dream ; also the hurried passage to the French coast, and the second unhallowed nuptials, which afterwards sealed her destiny. No such dream-like remembrance however was that which subsequently ensued, but a sensible and sharp reality. The following morning, as AUne, pale and drooping from the effects of the extraordinary fatigue and agitation she had undergone, re- clined on a sofa in the apartment of the hotel, Angelo kneeling by her side caressingly enticing her to taste of the coflfee he held to her lips — a ALINE. 175 carriage rattled to the door, and well known voices burst upon their ears. Aline started up, and the beatings of her heart might have been distinctly heard. Angelo rose from his knees and looking towards the door, stood firm, calm, erect — though very pale. Hasty steps ascended the stairs, and the door was burst fiercely open — " Dark as a dream" Lord Mervyn stood before them. " Swift as a dream" he glanced around on Angelo and AHne, and thundering out — " Villain ! rascal ! coward ! vile, wretched Italian ! and other opprobrious English epithets, sprang forward and aimed a blow with his whip at the former, who, slowly retreating, escaped the istroke ; and Aline, in another moment, had with a piercing shriek thrown her- self between the two, clinging to her husband, whilst the upUfted whip was suspended in the air, and the young lord stood pale with rage, regarding the defended object of his ire. 176 ALINE. " Coward ! base wretch I" he at length ex- claimed, *' it is well for you to be protected by *' A Una ! — mia bene ! leave me — force me not to hear myself so addressed!" exclaimed Angelo, and he attempted to disengage himself from her hold. *^ No, no !" cried Aline, " Lord Mervyn go, leave us ; you shall not touch him — he is my husband J" But this declaration far from producing the desired effect, seemed but to inflame still more, the desperate rage of the defeated lover. Seizing Aline's arm with a dexterous, yet not ungentle wrench, he separated her from Angelo, and holding her at arms^ length, again raised his whip, this time however, caught ere it fell, by Angelo, who, now at liberty, sprang forward to defend himself from the insulting attack. But here the conflict was arrested. A hoarse, agitated, but commanding voice was heard behind them. ** Mervyn! this is my place that you have ALINE. 177 taken. I will have no mad, useless brawls — Leave it to me, I beg, to speak to my daughter, and call this person to account." Mervyn stepped back, dropping the Land of Aline, whose first impulse at sight of her father, was to throw herself on her knees, and hide her face in the cucihions of the sofa. But when the angry words which followed, met her ears, and she lifted her eyes and saw the awful anger — more dreadful than the im- patient fury of Lord Mervyn — expressed in Sir Alexander's countenance — crawling towards him, she shielded once more her husband in her arms, gasping in accents of child -hke terror — "Father! forgive us— forgive him — do not hurt him, look — look !" And she held up her hand, with the mar- riage ring thereon. '* Oh it is too late — you cannot part us now — I am his wife — " ** It is true," murmured Ar gelo ; " of what- I 3 178 ALINE. ever blame and anger I may be worthy — the fault is not to be undone, and I will defend to my last drop of blood, the right I possess over my wife/' Sir Alexander, spurning the hand in indignant disgust, which Aline again held out in testimony of the truth of her husband's last words, with a low curse expressive of all the withering aver- sion with which the term * my wife * inspired him — looked down upon the wretched girl — as overcome and exhausted, she glided from her husband, and crouched meekly upon the ground at his feet — then making a movement with his foot as if he would have spurned her — he abruptly left the room. Lord Mervyn turned on his heel and fol owed — '* What is to be done, sir V* he demanded of Sir Alexander, in an impatient tone. '' Nothing !" And the father cursed no more — but groaned in agony of wounded pride and affection. ALINE. 179 My young readers— it is a grievous thing to call forth a father's groan I The curse may be drawn forth by hasty pas- sion, and may be recalled — repented of ^ but the groan of agony must come from the wounded spirit, the scars of which, though time may heal the sore, must for ever remain to wit- ness against the aggressors. So, beware ! " Mia Alina ! look up — speak — they have gone." ^* Gone — gone!'* murmured Aline, raising her bewildered eyes from her husband's shoulder ; '^ oh Carlo— my father — my father ! has he abandoned me for ever ? will he never speak to me again ?" *' We must hope — we must hope, mia bene,^' murmured Angelo, in pale and anxious distress at her sorrow — " But if you are thus afflicted — and I the cause— how shall I bear it ? how must I reproach — blame myself!" and his tears mingled with those of Aline. 180 ALINE* But the sight of them quenched hers — in her turn she became the soother — the comfor- ter ; — and those two young creatures by degrees losing all thought, all care, but of one another, soon after went to Italy. The dismay — the horror and the scandal, M'hich the discovery, on the following morning, of the joint disappearance, of the eldest daugh- ter of the house, and the Italian opera singer, spread through Merriford, needs no descrip- tion . The discovery — with regard to the young lady — by the servant, who carried the tidings in affright to Sir Alexander and Lady Ade- laide, soon followed by intelligence of the same nature relating to Signor Angelo, first gave rise to suspicions, concerning which the parents were for long, the most incredulous of belief. It was a thing impossible, inconceivable, that she, the young, innocent, gently nurtured daughter, could have thus degraded herself. ALINE. 181 But the relation of Lacia threw too clear and indubitable a light upon the subject. Aline at that unseemly hour, lurking in such suspicious locality; Oh, it was all too clearly proved ! The route of the fugitives to London, hav- ing been ascertained, the distracted father, and the raving lover started in pursuit. The company hurriedly dispersed, and Lady Adelaide, who had, from the first, shut herself up in her own room, was wholly abandoned to the tender condolences of her sisters. How grateful she should be, they argued, that the base girl was not her own, that the bad blood, which could alone have incited her to so disgraceful an action, she owed to another mother— a Marchmont would never have so de- based herself! But Lady Adelaide possessed kindly feeling, as well as worldly pride ; the anguish she felt on the occasion was divided : she grieved for the fate of her step-daughter, and she smarted 182 ALINE. under the idea of the slur, the disadvantage, the stigma, this fatal conduct would cast upon the daughters she had to bring forward in the world. It was indeed a day of darkness and distress, that into which the hitherto gentle and be- loved Aline had plunged her father's house. The pursuit and its conclusion, we need not repeat. On his return, Sir Alexander for a whole fortnight, shut himself up in his private apart- ments, and in this strict solitude he and Lady- Adelaide mourned together. None but their children were suffered to approach them ; even the servants were, as much as possible, ex- cluded from their presence. For many months they saw no company, the father no strangers but on business. The iron had truly entered into the strong, stern soul of the statesman. Children take a parent's love on trust. " The love of parents has a deep, still ALINE. 183 source," though dark and turbid the surface may appear — Distrust it not — Dare not to send the shaft within, and say, no love is there, to strike ! 184 ALINE. CHAPTER XIII. '* Know'*6t thou the land where citrons bloom, and where The golden orange breathes its fragrant air ? Where winds are ever soft, and blue the skies, Where myrtles spring, and groves of laurel rise ? KiTow'st thou that land my love ? Away, away ! Oh ! might I with thee 'mid its beauty stray ?'' GOETHB. They went to Italy, the Italian and his young bride — to Italy, that land of enchantment, of oblivion, of consolation ! It was new life to Aline — she was wrapped as in a vision — old things seemed to have passed away into forgetfulness — old spheres of existence ALINE. 185 —old ties — old affections ! Her husband's country had become her country— his God her God! There was nothing to break the spell. Angelo relinquished all engagements^ sacri- ficed all means of emolument arising from hi& vocation, to devote himself exclusively to his lovely bride. To the popular first tenor of a London sea« son, this inaction was at present quite feasible. He had made a little fortune for the present emergency. The Russian winter engagement, which he had almost accepted, had been abruptly broken off. Winter — spring — and summer, were spent by Aline in love, luxury and en- joyment, as unalloyed as that of any lady of independent lord or gentleman. The young couple were all in all to one ano- ther, and shrunk from society; but yet, from their youth, beauty, talent — and more than all, the mystery cast over them, when /jy chance throvyn 186 ALINE. in its way, they were the objects of the deepest interest and admiration. Angelo, having dropped for the present his professional character, in which, in his own country, he was as yet unknown, having only received his musical education there, and that at Florence — and from thence, after one Parisian season, proceeded to England — the married pair might, had they so desired it, have preserved their incognito, and affected an entree on equal footing, into the society around them ; which as an acknowledged public singer, could not have been the case, in Italy, where artistes are not so generally well received as in England or even France. They are, it is true, highly admired, ap- plauded, and asked to all the leading parties, but appreciated solely for their talents, are never admitted to that comparative equality — that intimacy, which they have gained in our own country. But Angelo and his young wife availed them- ALINE. 187 selves very sparingly of this privilege thus afford- ed to them. They had sufficient pleasure in each other's society, and in the amusement derived from the varied charms of the famed land in which they dwelt, to care to risk the disagree- able accidents to which such a position might have exposed them. In Naples, their morning rides over the sur- rounding country — chmbing the sides of Mount Vesuvius — or their moonlight rowing in the bay, where for hours they floated on the waves — singing their favourite songs together— many a passer-by resting entranced upon their oars, to listen to the handsome ItaUan, and his fair young bride !— ah ! there was as yet nothing to make Aline repent the step she had taken— to cause her to deplore her alienation from her own people — her own home ! She even forgot to weep over the long, un- answered letters of entreaty for forgiveness, she had sent to her afflicted parents. Her lot had as yet, fallen in too fair a ground, for her to 188 ALINE. look back with yearning tenderness to her father s house. Alas ! in how great a degree, is selfishness mixed up with every affection and quality of the human heart, and none more than in that of the child's towards its parents — rarely is there to be found much of disinterestedness in the composition of filial love or gratitude — seldom — until stern cares, troubles, and hardships, encounter him in his journey through life, does he look back with yearning tenderness to his paternal home-— does he feel there are fetters harder than the parental chain — that the hardest filial dependence is nevertheless the sweetest of all dependences— then, and not till then, would he fain arise, and fly to his father's or mother's arms for comfort and support. Aline therefore — although she often talked with pride and affection of her father's talents and kindness towards herself — of her step- mother's beauty and fascination — of her young sisters and little brother— it was as one who ALINE. 189 had not yet begun to realize her actual situation with regard to them-— for no painful doubts or apprehensions, mingled as yet very fearfully with her idea concerning them. Aline was too youthful to carry her thoughts very far onwards^ from the all sufficient enjoyment of the present. She hoped and concluded^ rather than re- flected, on the chances and probabilities of all being right in the end. But matters could not go on thus for ever. The sum of money made by the fruits of one season is not inexhaustible ; on his profession Angelo was perfectly dependent ; and as yet his wife had received no pecuniary assistance what- ever from her father. Long before broaching the subject to Aline, he foresaw the absolute necessity of recommenc- ing his labours, and had begun, iu preparation, to recruit his suspended powers by study and practice, in which course his young wife in a mea- sure joined — though unconscious perhaps, of his object. It might indeed almost have appeared 190 ALINE. that she had forgotten the position of her hus- band — so much, with a perhaps false, but very natural delicacy and tenderness for her feelings, did he strive, during this year of indulgence, to keep back from her every thing likely to remind her of the vocation from which, unfor- tunately, he himself began, for her sake, to shrink with inward aversion, almost shame — that vocation how far from despicable, if the temptations surrounding it be only resisted and overcome — comprising as it does that talent the most precious and most lovely — the only talent which we know shall never die. For angels sing in heaven, and man shall sing in heaven. Witness this first sign of the evils attendant on all ill-assorted marriages — on mes-alliances. But was Angelo to have spent his strength — laboured in vain to gain the eminence he seemed to have attained in his profession — only to be dragged backwards by the pride and false fas- tidiousness of an unmeet alliance ? No ! it must not be so in practice, however in spirit ALINE. 19l he might be inclined to cast away the means of emolument his resplendent gifts afforded him. Aline, at length, herself broke the ice. They had been singing together a duet of exquisite beauty, the difficulties of which, the pupil wife had so well mastered, that her master, in the ardour of his approbation and delight, started up, and folded her in an ardent embrace. "Ah, Carlo!" she laughingly exclaimed, ** what a sensation shall we not create together on the stage ! shall I not rival Malebran herself? when shall we begin — on what stage shall I make my debut V^ Her husband's countenance changed, but he smiled playfully, and called her his hella, 'prima donna, then added, in a tone of assumed gaiety : ** We will see what her practisings with me for my engagement at and at and her studies from the opera boxes she shall have — will do for my little Alina—ah ! doubtless she will be a prize even for La- porte, next spring ?' 192 ALINE. *' Laporte ? ah ! but that would be in Lon- don !" and Aline crimsoned and seemed to re- coil from the idea. " Shall you sing again in London, next spring ?" she then asked, turning a little pale ; but after musing thoughtfully for a moment, she again burst forth, saying : *^ But seriously. Carlo, how delightful it would be for me to appear once, just once on the stage — say at Bologna, where I am not known, where I am so unlikely to be recognised under a false name ; might I not — as Amina, for instance V^ Her husband shook his head. " No, not for the world, Carissima I** he said gravely, and more firmly than he had ever be- fore spoken words contrary to her wishes. *'My A Una on the stage ? — oh no !** # * * # It was therefore from her private box, like any independent lady of the land, that Aline, at the opera at Bologna, first beheld her husband in his public character. It was a novel and a strange thing to her to ALINE. 193 see him thus, particularly considering Angelo's fastidious method of arrangement. Previous to the day of his appearance, she literally saw or heard nought like preparation, save perhaps more of the melodious sound of his splendid voice. Scarcely need she have been aware that she was the wife of the first tenor of the Bolognese theatre — nothing pro- fessional, or appertaining thereto, being suf- fered to approach her. When the night came — Angelo conducted her to the curtained box he had taken for her use, and leaving her attended by her respectable English maid, in a short time after, appeared in his appointed role before her eyes. His part concluded, he returned to reconduct Aline home. Thus with no difference, save tht unavoidably lengthened absences, which his professional duties entailed upon her husband, AUne, still surrounded by every luxury and delicacy during tlie autumn and winter, but by slow degrees, VOL. I. ^ 194 ALINE. was allowed to become acquainted with any of the disagreeables attending her position, or the consequent feeling of dissatisfaction springing up therefrom — and for which, but for the long and perhaps injudicious struggle of her hus- band, to delay the evil day, her mind might have been more gradually and wisely prepared. Any sensations of this sort which she experienced might be dated perhaps, not from any real change of outward circumstances, but from the era of new thoughts, new feelings, new long- ings, new ambitions in woman's heart, namely, her maternal prospects. In the exclusive solitude, to which her position doomed her^ Aline had full time for the expan- sion of such ideas ; and as the spring approached, the former shrinking reluctance, which had prompted her husband to decline the London engagement, gave place to a nervous, anxious desire that he would apply for it again, in order that her child might be born in her own country, and perhaps form that reconnecting link be- ALINE. 195 tween herself and family, which— more for the sake of that unborn infant than for her own — more to reassure her Carious sinking spirits, and procure for him a position in society, of which he was in every way so worthy, she imagined she coveted — for others rather than from any repugnance of her own to the estate of life she had chosen to share with her husband, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, or from any looking back with selfish desire to the pride and circumstances of the po- sition she had forfeited for his sake. But was it really so. Aline ? or did the proud blood you inherited from your father, rise against the idea of your position as an opera singer's wife ? We shall see hereafter ; the sensation as yet was scarcely understood. It was in accordance therefore, with Aline's earnest desire, that an engagement for the middle of the London season having been ef- ected, they had arrived in England towards the end of May. 196 ALI>JE. CHAPTER XIV. De tout ce qui t'aimoit n'est'il plus rien qui t'aime ?" Lamartine. " Art thou then desolate Of friends, of hopes forsaken ?" Mrs. Hemans. A HIRED coach was passing, early one after- noon, through the most fashionable locale of the metropolis, mingling with the gay and grand equipages, dashing through the streets and squares — the driver receiving the impudent retorts of his craft, the contemptuous rebuffs of his more exalted compeers, or the passing jokes of his equals, with as much unceremonious ALINE. 197 freedom, as if his employer had been the shab- biest man or coarsest woman, that ever hailed him from his stand in the streets of London. No, it was evident that AHne's hack coachman had little taste for an appreciation of the fair, the young, or the delicate among his fares, or he would certainly have bridled his tongue, and driven with more tender consideration for her nerves and feelings. The high bred Aline had never perhaps felt so great a load of depression and discomfort weigh down her spirit as now — during this rattling, noisy drive, with the hot sun glaring in through the uncurtained windows, the rude straw carpeting her dainty feet. For outward circumstances, let philosophers say what they will, have a wonderfully influ- ential effect upon the feelings of the inward man, and although her present object would have been one indeed of nervous excitement, under any consideration, Aline's frame of mind might certainly have been of an easier — a more 198 ALINE. cheerful character, had an equipage less un- pleasing to her sense and sensibility, borne her to her destination. During the absence of her husband, she had — unknown to him — set forth upon her present anxious adventure. Having ordered the coach in which we now find her proceeding, she had emerged from her house, nerved, as she had imagined, to brave all the difficulties and dis- comforts which might attend the expedition. It was not the first time she had thus tra- versed the streets of the metropolis. — No ! how joyfully had she often sprung into a similar conveyance in the course of her expeditions w ith "Uncle George,'' how far more joyfully than into her parents' well appointed equipages. It was therefore, no spurious pride or vain deli- cacy, which influenced her, but circumstances do so completely colour our feelings on such occasions. Poor Aline ! she sat, in her lonely discomfort, nervous, anxious and ashamed, first bending ALINE. 199 forward with sorrowiuUy distended eyes to see the progress she was making, then sinking back, sick at heart — those eyes all tearful— her lips all quivering — as familiar places, recalling familiar memories, swam before her dizzy sight. As for the chance of being recognised, that fear did not even occur to her, so lonely — so strange — so alienated did she feel from her former sphere of existence. And yet she was going to her father's house, the house of her birth — that house in which her mother died — praying that the child for whom she was called to give up her young life, might prove her husband's joy, pride and comfort ! And that same child was coming now to that father's door, to sue for pardon and acceptance— pardon for the act which had plunged him in anger, and in sorrow far more bitter than anger. My readers ! had not poor Aline indeed good right to look pale, even as death, when the coach — too soon for her wildly bea^ng heart, — rattled 200 ALINE. round Hyde Park Corner, and the driver, pulling up with a sudden dexterous jerk, arrested their course before the very familiar door bearing the number to which he had been directed. And then he descended. Whilst Aline, as the man ran up the broad steps to give his most hacknified knock and ring, leaned back, hiding her face in her hands. She could not have raised her eyes to the house for worlds, though at the barred windows on high, she could so well image to herself little faces of brother and sisters peeping out, towards whom her heart sprung forth with renewed yearnings to behold. ** Who must I ask for Miss V and the coach- man stood by her side, touching his hat interro- gatively. AHne started and hastily handed him a note she held ready in her hand. *' Give that !" she said faintly, and return- ing with it to the door — thrown open at that moment — he presented it to the porter, who glanced disparagingly at the equipage, to which ALINE. 201 his attendance had been required. But he took the billetj asking if there were any answer required, and whilst the man returned to the coach to enquire, employed himself, in an ex- amination of the direction. "Yes, yes !'' Aline replied in nervous haste. And the note was soon passing from one to the other of the long menial train, up to the boudoir of the Lady Adelaide Seyton, to whom it was addressed ; and there in the meanwhile sat the pale girl, so sick— so sad at heart — her delicate condition adding to her weakness of mind and body — imagining to her- self, the progress of her note — thinking that now her stepmother had received it — now broken the seal — now read it — and then ! — Oh I then the agonizing, trembling interval of suspense! — If spurned — if admitted? — either alternative seemed at the moment to present as trying an ordeal. But her suspense, though it seemed an hour of agony, was not in reality of very long dura- K 3 202 ALINE. tion. The street door, which had been closed by the porter on so undignified a personage as the hack coachman, was at length re- opened, and a note handed out to him. Aline bent forward eagerly, but sank back with a sickening qualm, as she saw that ap- proaching, on which so much concerning her, depended. Scarcely could her trembling hand reach out to take the paper, or when secured hold it while she scanned its contents. " Shall I drive on Miss V enquired the man. "No, no, not yet — wait !'^ she gasped, and attempted to open the folded envelope. It was some time ere, having effected this, her dizzy sight could discern that the enclosure contained therein, was her own writing just be- fore sent in, and now so speedily returned. Was it really so ? yes — yes, too surely ! The shock steadied her visionary powers. As if to make the fact more certain still, ere she believed the appearance of her very eyes, she glanced at her own signature, placed at the end ALINE 203 of the humble supplication to be allowed an interview with her father and mother, "Aline Angela /" Ah ! under it, on the remaining blank space, there had been some fresh lines inserted — in the well known characters of Lady Adelaide's handwriting. Aline's aching eyes glanced over them. Their purport was as follows *' In consideration for our remaining daughters, your father and myself are bound to guard them from the disadvantage and disgrace of the society of the person above named. ** Adelaide Seyton.'' Aline did not weep — too much did her heart feel wounded — nor did offended pride come to her relief, but she clasped her hands and bent forward to the window, casting forth a piteous, humble glance of childlike beseeching, as if to ask whether there were no hope, no relenting from this cruel sentence. 204 ALINE. She met the gaze of the servant standing at the door, his countenance changed from his before careless disdain, to a pained, distressed expres- sion. He had now discovered who was the oc- cupant of that ignoble equipage, dishonouring the proud portal of which he was the consequen- tial Cerberus. The man coloured, hesitated looked painfully embarrassed, but finally stepped forward, and approached the coach, bowing re- spectfully, and stammering forth some words of greeting — his countenance assuming an air of sympathy as he beheld the pale, agitated demeanour of his master's daughter. "Jones!" murmured Aline, and burst into tears. So grateful did her wounded spirit feel at that moment for any trait of sympathy, that she could have lain her head on the old servant's shoulder and wept thereon. Jones stood in silent distress, and when, with a strong effort, Ahne had restrained her emotion, she looked so pale and faint that he said, *' Will you please to have a glass of water, ALINE. 205 Miss ? — I beg pardon — Ma'am — a glass of wine perhaps?" '' Oh no, no, thank you !'^ Aline exclaimed, roused by the demand, " no, thank you, Jones — are they all well at home ? — Be so good as to tell the man to drive back to .'' She put her hand to her head as if wearied, and be- wildered, then added — '^he knows where he brought me from." Jones obeyed, adding to his orders to the driver some particular instructions as to his safe conveyance of the young lady, taking good care at the same time to ascertain the locale of her destination. A. rich equipage dashed up at this moment, the footman of which calling in a commanding voice for the hackney coach to give place, hastily the driver gathered up his reins and poor Aline was driven, in more senses than one, from her father's house. 206 ALINE. CHAPTER XV. *' Is there in bowers of endless spring, One known from all the seraph band, By softer voice, by smile and wing More exquisitely bland ! Here let him speed : to-day this hallowed air, Is fragrant with a mother's first and fondest prayer.' Keblb. Little did Aline, during her transit home- wards, think of the discomfort of her conveyance. There is a certain pitch of crushed feehng — of wearied, grieved spirit, at which circumstances — so prominent before — are unheeded, un perceived. Worn and weary, in mind and body, the un- happy girl re-entered the house at Brompton, ALINE. 20 7 of which she and her husband, had taken pos- session a few days previously. Angelo was still absent ; he had not returned since she quitted the house. Sinking down on the sofa, in her little draw- ing room, with scarce strength to divest herself of her bonnet and shawl, and casting them from her, she tore her rejected letter — till then con- vulsively clutched in her hand — to atoms, and threw the fragments through the window, to be scattered by the air ; determining that poor Carlo should never, by her means, be made cognizant of this most unhappy adventure — the cruel mor- tification, the crushing, wounding rejection, to which she had exposed herself. But Angelo learnt it in part ere long, since it became necessary to account, in some degree, for the sudden illness, from which, on his re- turn home, he found his wife suffering. He was therefore informed by her maid, of the fatiguing drive of the afternoon ; and when her perils beinn- over, and a httle son born, he poured 208 ALINE. his joyful endearments in her ear, he at the same time chided her playfully for a perilous truancy, which might have proved so fatal in its effects, and asked her why she had gone out in so impro- per a conveyance, instead of waiting for the pretty little carriage he had promised her. Aline was obliged to confess something of the truth, whilst — though she earnestly strove to repress them — her sore weakness would not permit it to be so, and the tears forced themselves from her eyes down her pale cheeks at that wounding remem- brance. And then the husband's distress and indig- nation were extreme. He sank down on his knees, by the bedside, and covered her hand with kisses and tears. "And they treated my AHna thus I — they sent my sweetest, my fairest from her father's door ? Per Dio ! e troppo crudele e troppo barbaro I and they once flattered — fawned upon the singer in their own proud home, nay, but the other night, sat and hstened, smiled and ALINE. 209 applauded, as if he had been au angel, and yet so to despise the man, that the wife of his bosom — their own daughter — must be trampled beneath their feet ! Ah Alina, I will never sing to them again !" he murmured passionately — " I will starve — I will beg first— I will rather work with my own hands to maintain you !" and the young man buried his face on the bed. " No Carlo !" Aline fondly murmured, as she soothingly passed her feeble hand over his ebon locks, ^' do not let it grieve you ;" and with a sad smile, quoting the words of Desde- mona, in the Opera of Othello, she added — " * Se il padre anche ni abandona^ we have a consolation now in this caro piccolino,'" and she pressed her babe to her bosom. '" But/' Aline continued, strengthened for the moment, by the prejudicial excitement, to which her husband's agitation had worked her, " did you say — did you say Carlo, that you sang at the Opera the other night ? you never told me of that, but al- lowed me to chide you so peevishly, for leaving 210 ALINE* me all that long evening, and till so late at night. Ah, I half suspected something of the sort, and it made me perhaps only the more unreasonable. But though not for myself I was irritable," she continued, as Angela tried to explain, that it had been indeed to save her feelings, that he had concealed the truth, fearing vrhat might have been her dislike and repugnance, on the occa- sion — "it must not be so again, carissimo .'' And Aline continued sweetly, ^' I must not stand in the way of your advantage or comfort in your profession. Fear not — I shall be but too proud — too pleased to be the wife of the unrivalled Opera singer — to hear of his suc- cess — his renown — to see the tears — the smiles like those of which I was the witness when so entranced, I listened to him at my first Opera, never dreaming of the bliss of having one day the privilege of calling that angelic singer, mine. But tell me — did you say" — and her cheek flushed fearfully, ^^ did Lady Adelaide hear you the other night — oh ! did she really Hsten to you, and then repulse me i'— and my ALINE. 211 father !'^ she turned away her head—*' was he there?" " No, no, dearest — only your Mamma, and Lady Emily, and your pretty, young sister." "What, Ada?'' " Yes, Ada ! leaning forward with her golden locks and bright blue eyes, like a little fairy. She caught my eye, and almost for the first time brought, distinctly to my remembrance, how, on the night to which she alludes, my Aline, so marked amidst the starry maze, by her delicate youth — her innocent simplicity, sat bending forward, with such intensity of 80ul speaking in her eye. My own beloved !" Angelo continued, his voice trembling wiih intense agitation, "sometimes on your ac- count, my heart feels fearfully oppressed — agonizing ideas float before my vision when I look forward to the future— God in his mercy save me from one sorrow too heavy for me to bear— May I never live to see that you remember that night — to repent its con- sequences." 212 ALINE. Aline, now really exhausted, could only feebly press her lips to his hands. But fortunately, the nurse, much scandalized by the length to which the interview had extended, entered at this moment to banish (as indeed it was high time she should) the inconsiderate young hus- band, and Angelo retreated, to destroy, with ges- tures of bitter mortification, the letter, which, on the first effulgence of his joy, he had commenced, to announce to Sir Alexander, the tidings of an event which, he deemed, must fill the father's heart with almost as intense a pleasure as his own, and entirely remove all bitterness and wrath against the young mother from his mind. And now reader, this portion of my story brings us to the point from whence we started, when Aline — ** Like a reviving flower when storms are hushed on high," came forth to breathe the evening air in the little garden — still weak and drooping in body and spirit, from the subduing in- fluence of the perilous ordeal through which she had so lately passed. ALINE. . 213 She had that morning been with her babe to one of the parish churches, and knelt in meek thanksgiving for her own safety, — her babe pressed to her bosom, whilst her Catholic husband, as he stood gazing aloof, forgetting in his fond idolatry, the heretical precincts in which he stood, fancied, as Aline thus ap- peared — the dark purple colours of a stained window casting a soft glow on her face and form — that he beheld, in that fair, young mother, one of the most perfect living embodi- ment of the many images of her, whom the artists of his land have so delighted to honour — " That mother whose virgin bosom was uncrossed With the least shade of thought to sin allied, Woman ! above all women glorified O'er tainted nature's solitary boast. Purer than foam on central ocean tossed. Brighter than eastern skies at day-break strewn, With forced roses — than the unblemished moon, Before her wane begins on Heaven's blue coast." Poor human Aline ' I am not so dotardly partial an old man, as to pretend to give you any claim to the application of those lines. 214 ALINE. Even poetical licence forbids the adoption of the simile — Poetry which — as one has said, to the scandal no doubt of many good, orthodox souls, " is only privileged to be idolatrous, when the saint invoked is she who nursed the Saviour in her virgin bosom.'' No, I only seize en passant, the occasion offered for quoting some part of Wordsworth's beautiful sonnet — one which has always struck me as more purifying, more elevating, to the gazing spirit, than the divinest picture of any divine painter of old, of which Angelo, at that moment, might have been dreaming. But to return to our poor earthly mother, Aline. She had thus knelt, she had given her earthborn infant into the arms of the clergy- man, to receive the touch of the life-giving stream, the sign of the holy cross — and the young soldier " Duly sworn "With true and fearless mind to serve the Virgin born.'* ALINE. 215 The name was murmured in faint and hurried accents, as if by stealth, and in fear of its being forbidden even there — for it \vas her father's proud name of "Alexander,'' — or, as the babe's own father echoed, in the softer language of his native tongue — " Alessandro ! " AYhen the young wife and mother had left the holy edifice, and turned back to the world, and the earthly thoughts and feelings it in- spires, reflections of rather a sad character might have prompted the sighs which she breathed perchance over her infant's sleeping face — reflec- tions on the different auspices under which that day's ceremony w^ould have taken place, had another lot been her's. Well did she remember the christenings of her young sisters and brothers, and though she did not sigh for the goodly company— the costly dress, the high-born sponsors— all the pride and pomp attending those occasions ! — still, the countenance, the support of those who 216 ALINE. should naturally smile upon an event so auspi- cious, it is hard to miss — more especially, when conscience rises up in accusation as to the cause of their absence. And perhaps some such thoughts as these, might have been haunting Aline's mind, during the garden stroll in which our heroine was first introduced to the reader; perchance, carrying on her imaginings from the unsmiling opening of her little darling's career, she might have been sadly pondering on the future destiny of her offspring, deprived by her own fault of the place and station amongst her own people, with which she had not till then deemed it would have been so hard to dispense. She had had, no doubt, plenty of time to think on these things during her late illness, and full leisure to brood over the persisted neglect of her family. But — whether it be the relief from pain — the care and attention of which the invalid is the sole engrossing, all im- portant object — we all know that the early period of convalescence is generally one in ALINE. 217 which all the troubles and cares of daily life are discarded — however heavily they may be- fore have beset the burdened frame and spirit. But then comes the re-action, when the un- welcome enfranchisement arrives and sends us '' back to busy life again," and how heavily the burden of cares and troubles (however light and trifling they may have been, and still in reality may be,) appear on the first throwing off the invalid, and the going forth again into the busy scenes of life. Can we not all in some degree sympathize in these feelings — morbid, though they may some- times be ; for on the emancipation from some sickness or sorrow of the mind or body, when the time is passed in which the selfish absorption, '' the luxury of w^oe,'' can be allowed, how often do we carry thankless— joyless hearts abroad, in lieu of those which should be swelling high with grateful joy and love to Him who has raised us from darkness and the shadow of death ! We can therefore, all more or less imagine, VOL. I. I- 218 ALINE. how the subjects of sadness and disquiet — which during the last few weeks had slept as calmly as the babe on her bosom — should wake up now and press upon Aline, at the time to which I allude— that she should again feel them with something of the vividness which had so strangely impressed her during the untoward drive that month ago. The strangeness of her position — in or near that large, large place, yet cut off so entirely from all former relationship therein ! — she felt as a prized flower, before the much tended nurs- ling in the centre of a well cultivated garden, now suddenly transported into a wilderness ! And oh ! fair maiden flowerets, who so eagerly strive to catch the breeze which is to waft you from the garden of your early homes — take an old man's warning. — It must be often so, even under happier auspices than those of Aline. Dream not of matrimony as the smooth and flowery plain of liberty and independence you have imaged it to be. ALINE. 219 The thorns and briars of care and trouble, of which till now you knew not the existence, will meet you there, and make you deem it indeed a wide wilderness, when Hkened to that w hich you have left, — an unquiet sea, compared to the smooth stream of your former life ! Much need have you indeed to prove, ere you embark upon it, the strength of skill of the guide of thy soul, the master of the prow — thy husband ! But more plainly speaking, — take not the holy state in hand, unadvisedly, lightly or wantonly, but reverently, discreetly, soberly, in the fear of God ; then indeed, you may go forth in faith and hope, and joy, though still with trembling, and God will be thy stay, thy guide and thy confidence. Without his blessing, " Unguided sail — unmastered prow," must be indeed thy fittest emblems. More would the old man say to the race of English daughters whom he loves so tenderly, L 3 220 ALINE. did he think it would have any weight with them, but he fears the words of warning would be breathed in vain. After his poor judgment, " I deem ye hap- pier, if ye so remain." But he well knows the tempting fruit must be plucked and tasted, ere the measure of bitterness mixed up therein will be credited and proved. But — as you will doubtless say, — having prosed enough, let us return to the narrative. ALINE. 221 CHAPTER XVI. ** Parental love, my friend has power o'er wisdom, And is the charm, which, like the falconer's lure. Can bring from heaven the highest soaring spirit. So when famed Prospero doff'd his magic robe, It was Miranda plucked it from his shoulders.'* Walter Scott. The news of the celebrated singer Angelo's intended re-appearance on the London stage, had created, with the general interest it excited, emotion of a nature much more intense in the minds of the Seyton family. The announcement came suddenly — unex- pectedly, without any preparation, or perhaps 222 ALINE. terms might have been proposed, to ward off the disagreeable position in which Lady Ade- laide, in particular, considered that such a state of affairs must place the relations of the un- fortunate daughter. Any pecuniary sacrifice would she have urged her husband to make, and Sir Alexander's fortune was so large, that easily might he have offered an adequate sum to the Italian, could he by that means have kept him out of England. But now", it was impossible. The news came to their ears, but a few days before the imme- diate appearance of Angelo, and he with his wife, must ere then have arrived in London. There was no alternative— nothing left, but to fix what was the best course to be taken in the dilemma, and that point. Lady Adelaide had soon determined. The matter must be carried off with a high, firm hand. Let the singer Angelo appear in public as before — why not ? why should they be troubled, or incommoded thereby ? why not ALINE. 223 as ready to enjoy the delight which his arts must minister to them ? What was the Opera singer to them, but for his voice — much less the Opera singer's wife ? To herself— her hus- band - her children. Aline in that character was as one blotted out, even from their recollection ! * # * # # ^ # « " And I may go to the Opera on Saturday, Mamma V' the young Ada exclaimed. "Yes, my love, and you will have a great treat ; you will hear Angelo sing,'^ answered her mother, striving to look unconcerned. " Angelo! — Signor Angelo !'' the girl ex- claimed, the colour mounting to her brow, and the tears involuntarily to her eyes. " What !'* she continued, in a low voice, " Aline*s hus- band !" ''You will hear Angelo, the Opera singer, Ada : I beg that you will only remember that," Lady Adelaide replied, in a cold, stern manner. " His private history, or of whom he is the 224 ALINE. husband, concerns you not. If you cannot promise me that you will look upon this matter in a sensible light, you must stay at home — I know what you would say,'' the mother added, as she marked the signs of innocent surprise and distress of her, as yet unsophisticated, little girl at this ^seemingly unnatural enactment — '' It is but natural, my dear, that you should have some pecuHar feehngs, considering the circumstances of the case — but you know, Ada, your father's and my sentiments on the subject — you know that by that wretched Aline's dis- graceful act " Lady Adelaide spoke the sister^s name in a low, mysterious voice, and paused abruptly. It was the first time since the elopement that it had ever been pronounced in the hearing of the children. " Yes," Lady Adelaide continued, and her voice denoted agitation, ** Aline has severed herself from us — as effectually as if she had died— dead, indeed, she is to all her kindred. ALtNE. 225 It is pitiful, it is grievous, but it must be so — society would be fearfully disarranged, if such deeds were sanctioned. The Opera singer's wife can never be ought to us — you understand me Ada?" and Lady Adelaide kissed her affec- tionately. " Yes, yes, Mamma !'' murmured Ada, trying to smile. Thus easily did Lady Adelaide prepare the way in one quarter. With her husband, ap- parently, she had as little difficulty. He heard her give her opinion on the subject, without contradiction or objection, but listened in thoughtful silence — he went about his daily business with a subdued and sadder mien, and did not even to his wife again broach the subject. Lady Adelaide had gone, as we know to the Opera, with her daughter Ada, who— upon a different system to that pursued with the step-daughter -— had been, since AHne's marriage, much brought forward by her mother. L 3 226 ALINE. The childish appearance of the pretty, little girl, put all present rivalship out of the question, and made the notice and admiration she excited, pleasing and piquant to Lady Adelaide's mater- nal vanity ; besides, she was not her step-daughter, which made all the difference. We may well imagine, that it was with no common interest and curiosity, that the Sey- tons' box was observed on that particular night in question, and all were not a little astonished at the proud, sang-froid preserved by Lady Adelaide, at the nervous moment of her son-in- law's appearance ; when, in lieu of the loud plaudits with which the reappesrance of so favourite a singer is usually hailed, a strange and ominous silence seemed to declare the de- sire, of— at least — the higher grade of the audience, to mark, as it were, their disapproval of the private actions of the man. But so cold a welcome could not be of long duration. All private feelings soon melted away, and the splendid singer's sins were forgotten. ALINE. 227 in the ecstatic delight and admiration, he drew forth from every hearer. Even Lady Adelaide — whose heart had in reaUty beat not a little fast beneath the cold exterior she presented on the first sight of the performer, towards whom she stood in so sin- gular a position — even she was often, during the Opera, carried away into forgetfulness by the power of that transcendent voice. Two days after, arrived the luckless appeal of poor Aline, at her father's door. When the note was brought in, Lady Adelaide was in her boudoir surrounded by her children, as it was her custom half an hour after their din- ner, and before her engagements for the after- noon commenced. She took it carelessly, but having glanced at the direction, started— paused, and examined it with slightly changed colour ; then breaking the seal hurriedly, cast her eyes over the contents. Lady Adelaide told the servant to v.ait for an 228 ALINE. answer, then looking up abruptly, demanded if Sir Alexander were at home. " No, my Lady ! gone out about a quarter of an hour.'' *' Who brought the note ?'' she asked. ^^ A lady in a coach, my Lady." Again Lady Adelaide glanced at the note- paused an instant irresolutely, and looking round at her children, bade them come from the window, some of the younger ones having ran there to examine the equipage. Then she rose slowly, and desiring the servant to wait, approached the writing-table, and with an anxious, agitated countenance, hastily — as if she mistrusted her own resolution— indited at the bottom of poor Aline 's note, the harsh addition. Without giving herself time for further re- flection, Lady Adelaide folded the paper, gave it to the servant, and then sat motionless, lean- ing her head on her hand, till the sound of retreating wheels was heard. Then she arose ALINE. 229 —looking anxious and uncomfortable— to de- scend to the drawing-room, to receive the visi- tors, whose approach the loud knock foretold. Lady Adelaide did not tell her husband what had occurred. She deemed it useless to dis- compose and trouble his mind by a relation of the incident. She considered she had taken a right course, one which his reason would approve, although— she felt it by her own pangs of conscience, at the time, accusing her of harsh- ness and hardship of heart — his natural feelings might rebel against it. They had not therefore, for some time, even mentioned the subject of Aline to one another, when one morning, Sir Alexander approached his lady with a newspaper, and pointing to the column of births. Lady Adelaide read — ^* The wife of Signor Angelo, of a son*' and then re- stored it to his hands, with a deep sigh. '* Poor thing!" she murmured, "with what different feelings we might have read such an 230 ALINE. announcement — but now,'' and she shrugged her shoulders hopelessly. ^' Now we can only curse the day on which she was born," the father rejoined bitterly, and turned away with a smothered groan. '^I wonder if she is well taken care of, whether she is in want of any thing, in such an emergency ? — something might be done !^' Lady Adelaide suggested — her woman's sym- pathy awakened. But Sir Alexander shook his head — " No, no !" he exclaimed, much agitated, " it is of no use — no weak compromisings — no soft- hearted relentings in such an extreme case — no half measures ! Those who have taken her, must take care of her — those singers and players with whom she has surrounded her- self!" Lady Adelaide sighed compassionately ; but felt in no slight degree relieved, that her hus- band shewed himself so little more relentingly inclined than herself— yet the father, one month ALINE. 2.5 1 later, was pursuing his course towards the abode of this disowned child. Yes ! — the interest and affection of a parent for his offspring, is hard totally to destroy, and the heart of Sir Alexander, in spite of his out- ward profession of stern determination, was inwardly ill at ease, hard to reconcile with such extreme severity. Often, in the press of busi- ness, as well as in the quiet hours of night, thoughts of his child would arise and pierce his soul. He thought of her much-loved mother — the wife of his youth — and it seemed as if by this casting away of her daughter, he was doing de- spite to her memory, tearing the link which still bound them in spirit to each other ! Through the medium of the porter, a servant of very long standing, who found occasion to hint to his master his knowledge of Aline's abode. Sir Alexander gained information con- cerning his daughter ; but thb, he kept secret 232 ALINE. both in his own household, and also from the object of his inquiries. By these means he learnt the privacy — the quiet — the loneliness in which she existed, in- stead of the objectionable society — the un- suitable atmosphere, in which he imagined Ahne to be living, and his feelings con- cerning her took a different colouring. "Poor child — unlucky girl!" he mused; " perhaps already brought to rue the unmeet fate she so rashly incurred. Alone, no doubt, much, much alone ! And is this to last all her life ? her young existence wasted — her happiness all lost ? — for how can my child be happy thus transplanted — with that singer-^ that Italian? — her foolish love almost inevit- ably decreased — or worse perhaps — herself neglected — suffering from the cursed fetters !" Could nothing be done to preserve her from some portion of her fate ? — Yes, he had de- termined he would go and see her, and propose a separate maintenance — that she should be ALINE. 233 placed under some respectable protection, in- dependent of her husband, and thus not only- secure her respectability, but prevent the total alienation from her family, which must other- wise be her fate, T* T* T> *J^ 5|> On these anxious thoughts was the states- man pondering, as he rode forth, on the morn- ing of his Brompton visit, with contracted brow and anxious countenance, in that direc- tion — and those who saw and recognised him, little guessed the object of his meditation — doubtless deeming his mind busied rather with affairs of state, and cares of business of a public character. A young man met Sir Alexander on his way, and greetings having been exchanged between them, turned his horse's head to join him. Sir Alexander gave a sidelong glance, as if of some discomfiture, at this movement ; and then looking straight forv,'ard, pursued his way in silence. 234 ALINE. " May I ask where you are bound. Sir Alex- ander ?'^ the intruder enquired. "On particular business," Sir Alexander drily rephed. " Private ?" demanded his questioner, with a smile, though respectful. " Private .'" was the still drier answer, "Then," answered his young companion, "I will not intrude on you my company," and turning his horse's head, he nodded, and re- ceiving a grateful acknowledgment from Sir Alexander for his consideration, rode away in a contrary direction. But whether idle curiosity, or other motives prompted him, he had soon turned again, and following slowly at some distance, managed to track the destination of the elder equestrian ; for soon after the dismounting of Sir Alexander, he might have been seen sufficiently near the door of the house, occupied by Signor Angelo, to recognise his friend's horse held by a boy. ALINE. 235 He curiously surveyed the mansion, but did not ride past it— then turning his steed, he galiopped off the way he came. It was Lord Mervyn ! 236 ALINE, CHAPTER XVII " Why is thy cheek so wild and wan Sir Leoline ? Thy only child Lies at thy feet— thy joy, thy pride, So fair, so innocent, so mild. The same for whom thy lady died — Oh ! by the pangs of her dear mother Think thou no evil of thy child — For her, and thee, and for no other, She prayed the moment ere she died — Prayed that the babe for whom she died Might prove her dear lord's joy and pride — That prayer her deadly pains beguiled — And would'st thou wrong that only child, Her child and thine ?" Christobelle. " Is Madame — is — " the name seemed to stick in the proud man's throat, " is the lady who lives here, at home ?" ALINE. 237 " Madame Angelo, Sir V enquired the maid, who opened the door to Sir Alexander, "yes. Sir." " Alone ?" " Yes, I believe Sir. I will see, if you please — Signor Angelo I know is out." '' Ah ! that will do — 1 wish to see the lady." " If you please. Sir — be pleased to walk up — what name shall I say ?" " Oh never mind my name." And Sir Alexander having entered the house, followed the servant with slow, firm steps, but a beating heart, up the stairs, and appeared as already detailed, before his startled daughter. :{: :i: ^ :}: >ic Still when the door had closed upon the old visitor, and they were left alone together, did the awful pause continue. The father and daughter stood facing each other, the former in such dread silence — the latter in such distressing emotion. 238 ALINE. Aline had ever stood in awe of that grave father, — ever suffered from timid embarrass- ment in his presence — but now, to feel herself a culprit before him— an object of his just and merited displeasure ! — whilst the remembrance of the dreadful scene which had succeeded her elopement, added to his present terrible demean- our, — for so it appeared to her — seemed to blast her sight — stop her breath— annihilate her! and she wished she could have fainted — died — to save herself from the terrors of that dread- ful moment, which seemed to her to last for ever. Her slight form , rocking, quivering like a slender plant, sunk down at length, and humbly crawling at her father's feet, Aline's weak, faint voice tremblingly raised itself for pity and for- giveness — " Father, do not look upon me thus ! speak to me, if only angry words, but do not kill me by such silent sternness — I am your child, ALINE. 239 though I sinned against you — for my mother's sake do not destroy her only child." " And was it for her mother s sake, that only child so well performed her dying prayer — that the child for whom she died might prove a blessing to the father, bereaved by her birth of his young loved wife ? Was it for the sake of that mother, her child so deceived, so wounded, so disgraced her father, and all belonging to him ?'' Sir Alexander spoke these words sternly, and bitterly, motioning her to rise, for he was not one who, by tears, kneeling, and a few pathetic words, would deem a grave and unrepented mis- demeanour absolved and atoned for ; and now he regarded, or appeared to regard, her words, as those of whining hypocrisy, her despairing movements as acting, and he turned away im- patiently, as Aline continued to kneel in sup- plication for mercy. '* Rise and compose yourself, pray, before I can listen to any thing you may have to say ; as for me, I did not come here to ' destroy' you, not 240 ALINE. even to reproach you. As for forgiveness, do not expect that those tears, those lamentations, will ensure you such a boon — Rise, I command you !" And seating himself, Sir Alexander averted his head, as if he might not, as Aline slowly obeyed him, be called upon to assist her in so doing. She was in a measure calmed by this chilling harshness, and standing trembhngly by his side, ventured to murmur in a humble voice an enquiry after her brothers, sisters, and Lady Adelaide. Sir Alexander, for a moment, turned his before averted face angrily tow^ards his daughter, and in a loud, stern voice, which left her quiver- ing in every limb, exclaimed — " Do not presume to mention them !'* Aline again burst into tears and sobbed — ** Oh father !'' imploringly. " Sit down !'^ he cried in the same tone. And she, who for nearly two years had heard no harsher tone than that like the gentlest ALINE. 241 music, threw herself on a sofa at a Httle dis- tance, hid her face in the cushions, and wept passionately. The door at this moment opened softly, and a respectable woman, with a baby in her arms, made her appearance, anxious alarm depicted on her comely countenance. '' Why, my dear lady, what is all this about ?" she exclaimed ; '^ as sure as possible you will make yourself ill," and she glanced sharply at Sir Alexander. The nurse had heard his loud, angry voice, the plaintive tones of Aline, her sobs of emo- tion, and she could bear it no longer ; therefore came down to interpose. She was the monthly nurse, a personage usually of so much importance and authority during her brief reign. The commanding appearance of Sir Alexander seemed to inspire her with some feelings of respect, but she was not daunted, though her defence was aimed more indirectly. VOL. I. M 242 ALINE. " Now, dear lady, pray compose yourself, she said ; it is a shame at you should be agitated in this manner — you, still so weak and delicate ; Signor Angelo will be grieved^ — angry with me for having allowed it. There, there !" as Aline lifted up her head with some attempt to allay the violence of her emotion. " And here is the darling in his pretty cloak and hood come to see his Mamma, and going out to take his first walk. Oh, no ! we must not have tears dropped upon him — that would be unlucky,'' continued the nurse, at the same time uncovering the infant's face so as to display it to the view of the visiter, of whose identity she had probably some suspicion. But Sir Alexander noticed not the babe, even by a glance ; rising, he said gravely and firmly, though in a tone perceptibly softened — "And now if you are sufficiently composed, we had better go at once into the business which brought me here.'' Business / — it was a cold word to Aline's ALINE, 24:5 heart — not affection then, or fatherly longing to see his offending child, had brought him to her — but —business i The idea was effectual to calm her agitation. Business seemed ever to stand in the way of her affection, and feeling towards her father — She said in a broken voice to the nurse — ** Take him away," adding with a tinge of bitterness, as Mrs. Forde approached the infant near her to be kissed, *' I cannot kiss him now ;" and the nurse slowly retreating, she was once more seated on the sofa, with her pale, tear-stained face, alone, with her father, standing before her. " Aline have you ever repented of the step you have taken ?" " Oh yes, oh yes, father !'' For again the softened tone in which the words were spoken melted her heart. ** Oh, you have !" he exclaimed quickly, " and of what pray V^ M 2 244 ALINE. *' Of having, by my conduct, incurred your displeasure/' *' But what has wrung from you this repent- ance ? Disinterested, I cannot flatter you by be- Iteving it to j be no, — confess the truth — you do not feel yourself so happy now, as in your girlish delusion you expected to be ; you are now con- vinced of the mistake you have committed — are dissatisfied, discontented with the situation in life you so rashly embraced for yourself — you have discovered that a mes-alliance based on folly, levity, filial treachery, ingratitude I can never be a union of happiness and comfort ?'' Aline, too much conscience stricken to be fully aware of the real significance of her father's assumption concerning her sentiments, seemed but to confirm it by her silently downcast eyes, and agitated countenance. *^ Yes, wretched girl !" the father continued, " doubtless you have repented, and would now willingly return with me to the home and posi- tion you so rashly cast away, and exchange the ALINE. 245 yoke with which you have shackled yourself, for the light and easy chains against which you so ungratefully rebelled/' Ahne still remained silent — spell-bound, writhing inwardly at every harsh word which fell from her father's lips. He continued, and his voice became evidently less severe, though its tones denoted intense agitation. '' Aline, if it be as I suspect — if the man for whom you ungratefully forsook the guides and guardians of your youth, has proved what indeed might only have been expected — in short, misera- ble child ! — if you are, as I cannot but conclude, wretched, I have a proposal to make, by which I would fain save you, in a measure, from the fate you have well merited — but from which, in pity to the youth and folly which assisted you to err, I would fain protect you." Aline now hfted up her eyes fearfully, be- ginning in part to comprehend the meaning his words implied ; but with what a quick and 246 ALINE. startled glance were they raised, when Sir Alexander proceeded and declared that he was ready and willing to offer her husband, any terms — any sum of money which might bribe him to accede to a complete separation between them. "Between me and Carlo?" she almost shrieked — all the womanly feelings of the wife rising up in array around her heart, and she arose and turned her gaze in bold defiance on her father's face. " What, separate me from Carlo^ from my husband, my fond, my only too kind — my most beloved husband — propose such a plan to him ? oh never — never ! — the very idea would break his heart T' What could Sir Alexander reply to this? In making the proposition, he had hastily con- cluded on the character and conduct of the Italian. He had determined him to be grasp- ing, avaricious, careless, and indifferent, to say the least of it, towards his wife, and in his eager- ness to snatch Aline from a position, which in- ALINE. 247 volved the proud family in such an untoward situation— he hazarded the proposal, without ascertaining the true state of his daughter's circumstances and feehngs towards her husband. Established in some respectable position, sepa- rated from the objectionable husband, she might, he thought, be in some degree again restored to her own family. These had been the views, which in the attempt to carry them out, had induced Sir Alexander to seek this interview. The states- man father had looked more to the expediency of the measure, than to the equity of the plan he had proposed — cold calculations, rather than natural feelings, was its basis. He manifested therefore little sympathy in this outburst of conjugal affection, but continued coldly — ^' I can then have nothing more to say upon the subject ; if you are content to continue in your present state — the Opera Singer s wife ! and if your husband is willing to maintain you, of course I have no right tu interfere further 248 ALINE. in the matter. You must in this case resign o yourself to the utter alienation from your family, which, for their sake, must, under such circum- stances, be strictly persisted in. Linked to your husband, you must look for nothing from us for yourself— no pecuniary advantage or profit to him, whilst he retains you. — This letter will explain to him my intentions, had I found you otherwise disposed — and it may still be as well for you for his sake to consider them. As far as money is concerned, it will be his gain '^ Aline interrupted him. " Gain — profit !" she exclaimed, *^ what do you mean — with whom, Father, do you think you have to deal? Not with my husband, not with Carlo Angelo ! — you speak as if he were some vile, mercenary wretch, who would sell his wife for gain — for gold ! Oh, if he had heard that any one but you, had hinted such a suggestion, had thought it even possible ! — And /, to consent to leave him for the sake of any one on earth — brother, sister, even you, Father !— did I not ALIXE. 249 leave all for him, and should I not cleave to him to the last moment of my existence ?" Sir Alexander's countenance plainly shewed the scorn and anger these words excited, and Aline, comprehending his thoughts, continued! with increasing energy — *' Yes ! let those who will, despise him, scorn him, but why should they ? Good heavens is it because fate has rendered him dependent upon the sweetest, purest talent God bestows on man? — yes, and let those who despise him, des- pise me too. I want nothing from them. I, in my turn, will despise all such, and glory in what they consider my shame — the superiority, the nobility, of my perfect husband — so infinitely above all I ever saw or knew, before I met with him. I will love him still more — I will conform myself wholly to his position — I will no longer stand, as I fear I may hitherto have too much done, in the way of his welfare and success in life — I will not shrink, in the fullest sense of the word, from being the Singer's wife ! I will follow M 3 250 ALINE. his steps wherever they may bend, if he would allow me — even on the stage itself!'^ "Yes !" continued Aline, rapidly, as she saw the angry flush deepen on her father's face at these last words — *' Why should not my talent — poor, though it be in comparison with his — why should it not lighten and assist his labours ? Father 1" she added, and her passionate fervour gave place to a calm dignity, " forgive me, but it was a cruel — unnatural idea to suggest — Go home and ask your wife if she would ever be in- duced to forsake her husband ? — if all the world beside despised and scorned him, whether she would not only love him the more ? And so will I mine, through honour and dishonour, through good report and ill report. As high — as honora- ble — as nobly gifted and good is mi/ husband in his position, as you, Father, can be in yours/' Sir Alexander gazed in surprise. He had little thought there dwelt such rich stuff in the bosom of that weak— he had almost deemed — abject girl. There was something noble, lovely ALINE. 251 — vTomanly in her sentiments, which penetrated even to his stern, world-cased heart. But he suffered not the feelings which her enthusiasm raised up outwardly to transpire ; and when Aline had paused breathless, from intense emo- tion, he arose, and averting his head, offered his hand. The daughter seized it, and pressed it kindly and affectionately to her lips. Sir Alexander in silence, placed the letter to which he had alluded, together with a bank-note, in her hand. She recoiled, and would have rejected it, but again, in his stern, commanding voice, he desh'ed her to take it. '^The time may come,^' he said, " when you may feel disposed to reconsider the contents of that letter ; till then may God preserve you in the fate you have chosen for yourself— Fare- well !" He did not trust himself with another glance. Hia firm, heavy footsteps slowly crossed the 252 ALINE. room. He had re-descended the stairs, passed the threshold, seized the bridle from the boy who held his horse, and throwing him some money, rode away. * * * * ^ :H « « It was a relief to Aline, when the street door closed. She seemed to breathe more freely, and sat gazing upon the letter and the bank- note, with bewildered abhorrence. Had they been received from any hand, but her father's, they would have been flung away in indignant disgust. She had gone through such a variety of feel- ings and emotions, during the trying interview, that she now seemed exhausted. The nurse brought the baby to her, and anxiously regarded her, but seeing the poor, young mother fondly, but with an absent mien, smile upon the infant, and seemingly not in- clined for conversation, she did not attempt to disturb her -, and having again departed with ALINE. 253 her nursling, Aline sat down by the window, in breathless, anxious expectation of her hus band's return. He came at last ; his light, eager step wasJ heard ascending the stairs, and with his bright, loving face, but pale as it ever was after his long morning exertions, he appeared before her. "My Aline!" he exclaimed, in a tone of anxious enquiry — for Aline was standing in the middle of the room, awaiting him with such strange, dreamy significance on her counte- nance. '^ Mia Alina ! what has happened ?" She flew into his arms, and once more her tears flowed forth upon his bosom. Again he caressingly soothed her, and en- quired what had happened. « My father. Carlo 1" Angelo started. " You will not let them take me from you V* " Take you from me ? — JVo ! per Bacco,"' the Italian cried, his dark eyes glancing defiance. 254 ALINE. "I thought so — not for ail the gold they can offer you — but this letter — it will tell you all. But no— do not read it, let us destroy it, and think and speak no more of the horrid sug- gestion.^^ Whether or not Angelo read the letter. Sir Alexander certainly received no further com- munication upon the subject. ALINE. 255 CHAPTER XVIII. ViL I have a boon to ask. Tri. Command my power. And deem it thus most honour'd Lady let your will Appoint each circumstance, I am too bless'd Proving my homage thus. Vlspers of Palermo. " I HAVE a great favour to ask you, dear Sir,'' said Aline to me, when next I spoke to her over the garden railings^ a few mornings after my visit. "What can I do for you, dear lady? — you will make me very happy ^J enhsting me in your service." 256 ALINE. I gazed on her face as I spoke, and it struck me, that a change had passed over it since I had first seen her on this spot— some new spirit seemed to manifest itself in her countenance and demeanour, some firmer — nobler — more dig- nified spirit. But I thought it might be that the languor and consequent prostration of mentaf and bodily strength, had more fully passed away ; and then I thought of her as I had last seen her, trembling, drooping before her father's glance of sorrowful, stern displeasure, and almost wondered how her head had ever raised itself again, with such calm, gentle, and determined dignity of mien. Had he forgiven her — that severe looking father ? had he restored once more the light of his countenance to his alienated daughter — the singer's wife ? I knew now who that father was, and had nearly made myself cognizant of the rough out- line of my heroine's history. ALINB. 257 '' You are very kind," she said, " but I am afraid you will think mine a somewhat bold re- quest, ignorant as I am of your tastes and habits ; you must say so, if it is the least dis- agreeable or troublesome to you to accede to it/' Aline paused, and wondering not a Httle what this bold request might be, I smilingly re- proached her for setting me down as so selfish or ungallant an old churl as to be willing to grasp at any such agreement, and begged the ' fair lady to name her wishes. " You are aware, I conclude, of my husband's profession,'' she said calmly, her eyes firmly fixed upon my face, her cheek " colouring slowly'' as she spoke. I bowed affirmatively, " Now you may imagine that it is a great de- privation to me ''' Again she paused for an instant, but then continued simply — " Do you ever go to the Opera?'' 258 ALINE. " No lady," I answered, " many 's the day since I was there, and the very last time was with your uncle — I have not been much in the way of such things till of late, but if I had, it would have been all the same; music I dearly love — but in its natural state. The nightingale's thrilling melody bursting suddenly on my ear, the lark's clear carol, would delight me more than the most splendid triumph of art, to which I might sit and listen, in cold, critical expectation of en- joyment. But do not think I despise all human melody. If you, lady, wdll kindly treat me some day with the music of your sweet voice, you will see how I shall appreciate it.'^ " And my husband's — what delight would it not give you !" " No doubt, Madame — it has indeed already done so — When it burst upon my ear the other day in su iden, and as it were, spontaneous harmony, he could not have had a more en- raptured listener." ALINE. - 259 "Then come to the Opera and hear him in greater perfection/' Aline eagerly rejoined. " It would not be greater perfection to my taste— but you are forgetting, dear lady, the little service I was to render you." '^ Oh that is already refused," Aline replied, with a smile, " you will not accompany me to the Opera." ^•'Accompany you to the Opera!" '^ Yes,'' she said, smiling at my surprised ex- pression, "The fact is,*' she continued,"! can no longer endure to relinquish that — to me — most exquisite enjoyment — I cannot bear to think that whilst all London is feasting on my hus- band's talents, I sit at home, cut off from the sight and sound of them, and too, I long to hear her! But Carlo objects to my going, for he is fastidious concerning my chaperon. There is a box at my disposal, and had it been agreeable to you, Sir, how de- lighted I should have been, would you have 260 ALINE. taken upon yourself that office. I should not have been so bold as to have conceived the idea of proposing such a plan to one of so short and slight an acquaintance, but I can scarcely think of my Uncle George's friend as a stranger and perhaps I imagined that for that Uncle's sake he might have done '' "My dear lady, for the niece's — for the niece's sake, let it be so ; take rae with you, put me into a back corner of the box and make use of the old man as you will.'^ " How very kind !" Aline exclaimed, tear- fully extending to me her hand. '- Not at all — I am proud, very proud of be- ing chosen chaperon to such a fair, young lady." "Proud! oh no!" she exclaimed with a smile, in which there was however a tinge of bitterness, " not proud of being chaperon to the singer^s wife.^' Then after a pause she continued — '" It is but fair that you should know all the particulars connected with her to whom you are ALINE. 261 SO kindly disposed ; you shall know all when you choose to come and listen—and then you will find how much more valuable is the kind- ness you confer upon me, than you can now imagine, — for upon the kindness of new friends is all I have now to depend. Well I" she con- tinued after a pause, " I will tell Carlo how amiable you are going to be, and I wiU let you know at what hour we must set off. Early I think it must be, on account of m.y husband V » * * '^^ r^ * * At an early hour that evening therefore, I accordingly found myself by appointment in the little drawing room next door, awaiting the ap- pearance of Aline and her husband, wondering, and half disposed to feel provoked at having involved myself in such an unsuitable office as chaperon to the Opera Singer's wife ! But all bitterness vanished when the door opened, and Aline, led by her husband, entered the room, looking as lovely, as fair as ever I had beheld a woman. 262 ALINE. The husband looked so fond, so proud of her, as well he might, for she seemed to me the perfection of purity and grace. Simply — yet handsomely attired, her dress was made high up to the throat, in foreign fashion, and edged with splendid lace, for which the stores of some old curiosity shop in Rome had evidently been ransacked — her hair curled in natural ringlets round her brow, like some picture of Sir Peter Lely's I have some where seen — a Henrietta Maria, I believe it is ! Altogether so fair, and noble did she look, that I could not but regret, she was not destined to grace some prince or noble's side, instead of to be shut up in an obscure box with an old fellow like myself. Ah ! truly could I have felt all my old wrath- ful prejudices rekindle against the husband, had not my eye been involuntarily fascinated by him also, as they turned towards him. He thanked me for my kindness in affording his Aline the comfort of my society and pro- ALINE. 253 tection— And who could look upon the young man, as he spoke, without prejudice and wrath immediately dispersing? There was something touchingly sweet, and beautiful, in the expres- sion of that pale countenance — those brilliant eyes so earnest, yet so mild, radiant as they were at that moment, with love and happiness. I answ^ered, that the favour I considered my own, and enquired what opera we were to have that evening. " I Puritani r Aline answered gaily, " Come, I will shew you Arturo;'' and rising on the tips of her slender feet, she unclasped the agraffe of the cloak in which Angelo was en- veloped, and drew it back, revealing him to my startled eyes in the handsome costume of that character. And then she turned to me an eager glance, as if to claim my admiration. I gratified her, by a few words to that effect, whilst the husband smilingly, but with a slight gesture of impatience 264 ALINE. at the inspection, disengaged himself to regain possession of his mantle. "Yes!" said Aline, more seriously, with reference to my admiring observation, whilst her eyes fixed fondly on her husband, '' I only wish that I was to be his Elvira." Angelo gazed on her tenderly, but a shade as of some disturbing feeling passed across his countenance, then gently throwing a shawl over her, he said, '* he feared they should be late, and that we must depart immediately.'^ I led Aline to the carriage, and we proceeded through the glare and heat of the London summer evening, to the Italian Opera-house. The drive was rather a silent one, Aline's spirits seemed to have been suddenly subdued. She looked pale and nervous, as she sat opposite to her husband — her hand in his — her eyes now fixed anxiously upon his face, now abstractedly averted from us, and turned towards the win- dow, and joining little in the conversation with which, out of politeness, or from the wish to ALINE. 265 conceal some similar feelings of anxiety in his own demeanour, Angelo endeavoured to enter- tain me. Our topics were, however, all of an irrelevant nature, and touched not on the subject of the Opera, till Aline interrupted us, shewing on what her thoughts had been running, by saying suddenly — " You will come to us, the moment the Opera is over, Carlo?" " Si, sij carissima /" he said, soothingly. ''Because,'^ she continued, "you said some- thing to-day about a supper to which you were expected.'' " Ah, but that does not signify," her husband answered, hastily, and slightly colouring, " I am always expected as a matter of course ; it is a regular thing, but I have no intention of going without you." " Without meP' Aline repeated in a tone of surprise, her cheek in its turn crimsoning deeply, VOL. I. N 266 ALINE. with a slight irrepressible expression of scorn in her eyes, as she fixed them on her husband's face. Yes, without you, mia Bella P' he replied, soothingly and caressingly, her hand locked in his. '^ Without you, and as you cannot go, neither will I — ^* "Ah'/' she said, evidently re -assured, but added, rather in the tone of a spoilt and petted child - *' If you have to wait for me to go, you will have to stay away always, and that will not do, it may perhaps give offence. '^ Angelo bent towards her, and said something I could not hear, in a low, melodious tone of fondness, which Aline acknowledged by a tear- ful, penitent expression of affection, when he again raised his head, and Aline began to talk to me with an effort of cheerfulness, till we reached our destination. We entered the theatre by a private ingress, Angelo preceding ALINE. 267 to shew the way. But it seemed by a demur with the box-keeper who came forward, that there was some mistake about the box, and we were obhged to wait in the lobby, whilst Angelo left us, to speak with one of the managing powers. He returned with a clouded brow of annoy- ance and displeasure, and to Aline's enquiries of what was the matter, informed her with very energetic invectives against the originators of the mistake, that he found a seat in the box, which he had considered engaged for her sole use, was to be appropriated by another lady, and the arrangements could not at this late period be altered. Aline too looked somewhat dismayed, but soothingly said — " Ah, well it cannot be helped — I do not mind it much, who is the lady, Carlo V '-' Oh, Madame— — " and he hurriedly repeated some Italian name— the wife also, as I after- wards learnt, of a member of the corps, and I saw an expression of repugnance on Alme's N 2 268 ALINE. countenance, but saying quickly — '' Well ! as it cannot be otherwise — " she pressed to pro- ceed. " If it will annoy you, I would rather you should go home, dearest,'^ — Angelo said, much disconcerted. *^ Go home !" Aline exclaimed ; " oh not for the world !" and as he led her to the box, I following, I heard her say in a low, playful voice — " Ah Carlo ! why do you try to make me so foohshly fastidious and exclusive — why should I disdain the company of Madame Lucetti. I have always heard that she is perfectly respect- able — I dare say we shall get on excellently well together.^' I thought from the expression of the hus- band's countenance, as he turned his face upon Aline, that he had no particular wish that such should be the case. He, however, appeared somewhat reconciled to the disappointment, by her cheerful treatment of the annoyance, and ALINE. 269. having seen us established, said, looking at me with a confiding smile — '' I am sure Monsieur will take care of you !" and quitted the box, leaving us to- gether. 270 ALINE, CHAPTER XX. " So may we mark the magic power of song Spread like enchantment through a mighty throng Of men, whose aims and passions, — thoughts, — desires — Have nought in common." Vandyk. The house was as yet but scantily filled, the dress circle almost empty ; Aline and I looked forth and surveyed the scene at leisure. It was long since I had been at the Opera, and it made me melancholy, as is generally the case on such occasions, to think of all that has occurred since last we viewed the long neglected ALINE. 2/1 scene. But my readers will doubtless feel mere interested in Aline's sensations under similar circumstances than in the old man's, and will wonder, if the remembrance of her first and last visit and all that had since occurred, did not awaken very thrilling feelings in her breast. But no — the past did not appear to have much to do with the emotion she now mani- fested- I believe the power of association has but little comparative influence over the minds of the young as with us elder spirits — " The present, the actual, which were they our all Too heavy our burthen, too hopeless our thrall," are, whatever may be the nature and extent of their good and evil, neither too much nor too little for their elastic hearts. Aline was evidently not dreaming of the past in the excitement of the present time. Her thoughts were with her husband behind the scenes, and though indeed, ever and anon, her 272 ALINE. eyes were riveted on a certain box in the dress tier, with a look of painful attention, it was evidently anticipation, more than past recollec- tions, which nervously attracted them to the spot. ^^ * * * * * * The overture commenced, and then soon after came pouring in the rich, the noble, the beautiful of the land, quickly changing the aspect of the vast theatre, as the fast gathering stars of night light up the firmament of heaven, only a change more dazzling, more bewilder- ing, more tiring to the eye, attracted hither and thither by each successive alluring ap- parition. What soft and delicate lovehness, what sparkling beauty — what noble grace — what bloom of youth — what briUiancy of maturer years appeared before the sight ! A scene of magic fascination, was it indeed to my unac- customed view. " In truth, lady ! this is a costly treat that ALINE. 273 you have procured me !" I could not re- frain from whispering to my fair companion. She noticed my observation by an absent smile. Her eyes carelessly scanned the circles, and then again her glass turned upon that par- ticular point of interest. Mine followed it, but in the same moment that it did so, her's was abruptly lowered, and she glanced quickly and suspiciously towards me, as if to learn whether I had understood the cause of her emotion ; then, having for a few seconds sat pale and immove- able, as if suffering from some sudden shock, sunk back behind the curtain, in the folds of which she hid her face from my view. I then took occasion to examine into the cause of this agitation, and could not but conclude, that yonder woman of proud and patrician beauty, whom I beheld with the lovely young girl, by whom she was accompanied— as was really the case,— stood in very near relationship to the poor Aline, and I could not wonder that the sight of those, amongst whom she had once doubt- N 3 274 ALINE. less, held such familiar place, now so careless and unconscious of her presence, should pro- duce a similar effect. I was glad, in order to divert her thoughts from these painful sensations, when the cur- tain rose, and I touched her arm gently to draw her attention. Aline started up eagerly, seemingly recovered, and prepared to listen and enjoy. But ere the splendid chorus had concluded, our attention was disagreeably attracted by the opening of our box door, and the succeeding disturbance and bustle consequent on the en- trance of a fresh comer. It was Madame Lucetti. She was attended by some one to the door, judging from the talking which preceded her appearance. But she came in alone with that easy degage air peculiar to foreign women, and having taken possession, sans ceremonie, of the front seat, which, retiring to the chair behind Aline, I ceded to her, arranged herself to her satis- ALINE. 275 faction, and then commenced a cool and keen inspection, with her bright, black eyes, of the company in which she found herself. First she glanced at me, but had evidently soon seen enough in that quarter, and smiUng to herself, turned her attention to her fair vis- a-vis, who seemed to inspire her with more in- terest ; for with that easy, good-natured im- pertinence, quite different to the rude stare of an English woman, in a like position, she began to survey her from head to foot. Aline coloured and drew up her shght form with patrician hauteur, as she submitted to the displeasing process, and I did not think there appeared much prospect of the cordiality, she had promised her husband to shew towards her handsome companion, who, on her part, wanted but some Uttle advance to address Aline. Yes, she was handsome — very handsome — this Italian woman ! The old man indeed should have considered himself mucl: favoured by find- 276 ALINE. ing himself the sole cavalier of two such speci- mens of beauty. But I have before expressed my prejudice against the description of beauty of the new comer, and did not neglect to make some in- vidious comparisons between the lustrous Southern, and the fair, lovely delicacy of my English Ahne. Its whole style, though frank, cordial and full of natural grace, yet breathed of careless boldness, and the unconstrained elastic spirit of enjoyment, more bent on gaining that end, than scrupulous about the means — totally at variance with the shrinking character, modesty of demeanour, the sensitive delicacy, that starts even at the shadow of evil, which generally cha- racterizes the attributes of an English woman. How plainly did the expression of the piquant countenance, from which the raven hair was drawn tightly back, that of the dark orbs rolling in their ample sockets like two fiery balls, seem to tell of self-indulgence, and luxu- rious case, the gentle expression of Ahne's ALINE. 277 to speak the feminine feelings of a tender wife and mother, in which the affections of her soul is solely wrapped. The very colour of their cheeks were calcu- lated to carry on in one's mind the comparison. The one, as if the pure hues of her complexion had been ever fanned by the refreshing breeze of her early country home — the other lit up, by the glow reflected from the golden sunset of her southern land. And then their hands — even they I fancied might have told a tale, charac- teristic of these different natures. As my eyes fell on that of Aline, " So white, so soft, so delicate, so smooth, As if she wore a lily for a glove" —that fair hand, with its pink almond pointed fingers, with which she held back the crimson curtain shading her, seeming to partake of the puritv and coldness of marble, whilst to that of Madame Lucetti, equally beautiful of its kind, as from time to time she drew it from its glove, sparkling with jewels— one might have said in the 278 ALINE. words of Othello, as a writer has remarked of the hand belonging to a beautiful portrait of Titian's — "This hand of yours requires A sequester from pleasure, fasting, and prayer, Much eastigation, exercise devout ; For here's a young and melting devil here, That commonly rebels." But to continue — The disturbing influence of our handsome intruder was soon forgotten, in the increasing and exciting interest of the Puritani, which soon withdrew Aline 's atten- tion and thoughts from such petty annoyances. The exquisite prima donna, was in the open- ing scene of her appearance, suspending every listener's delighted breath, but whether even her surpassing charms were sufficient to arrest and absorb the attention of Aline, was rendered doubtful to me, by the restless expectant glances of her eyes, directed eagerly ever and anon from the singers to the scenes, as if they would fain have pierced them ; and when at length the ac- clamations which announced the approach of ALINE. 279 Arturo made themselves heard, she turned eagerly towards me and murmured in a tone so animated and excited that Madame also looked and smiled — '• Now he is coming!" Then with parted lips — kindling eyes and cheeks flushed with the agitation of suspense, awaited the close of the beautiful duet, " A qual suono!" and the chorus following. I once more whispered, and touched Aline's arm, for, as if overcome by nervous delight at the arrival of the moment of her heart's desire, she had now bowed her head, and veiled her eyes with her hand. She raised them half fearfully, as I spoke. Arturo was entering on one side, surrounded by his squires and pages, bearing the wedding presents, and meeting Elvira and the rest of the group entering from the other — the applause and acclamations of the audience mingling with the chorus of honour which welcomed his ap- proach. It was the first appearance of the favourite singer in this newly represented opera. 280 ALINE. But this first meed of praise doubtless was drawn forth more by the admiration with which the personal appearance of the action must have struck every eye, than from any other cause. Splendid indeed was his beauty, beyond all imagination. I even forgot for the moment all my operatic prejudices, charmed with the stage effect, the theatrical trickery, which seemed so to heighten the attractions of the pale, young Italian, with whom we had so shortly parted. He was now the brave cavalier, radiant, dazzling almost to the sight, with excess of beauty. Eagerly he moves forward to meet Elvira, takes her hands and pours forth in tones, oh I of what thrilling sweetness ! — ** A te o cara/' that strain of well known loveliness — raising as he concluded, one glance towards our box, which lighted up Aline's whole face with a vivid blush, as bright, as blissful as ever lover's glance called forth on maiden^s cheek. Madame Lucetti also glowed with fresh ani- ALINE. 281 mntion, and I heard her murmur with a much approving smile, " Oh ! hello bellissimo Angela /'' But all throughout that scene, Elvira might have complained that the eyes of Arturo, which should have been gazing in tender adoration into the dark orbs raised to meet them, were oftener directed to a certain spot regions above. The first act concluded, the curtain fell, and Aline turned to me with a tearful smile of triumphant pleasure. Madame Lucetti chimed in with her plaudits, and we were beorinnino; to form somewhat of a sociable trio, when the Italian's eyes, glancing round the house, seemed to have been arrested by some object of interest ; and having fixed her glass for a few^ moments in one direction, she dropped it with a well satisfiea smile, and seeming to become forgetful of our existence, turned her eyes ever and anon in careless expectation towards the door, which in a few moments after, was abruptly opened, giving 282 ALINE. unceremonious entrance to three young men whom the Signora greeted with gay and laugh- ing welcome, while the cavaliers began a string of gallant speeches and self congratulations on having found her out at last. Annoyed and provoked, I glanced at Aline to mark how she bore the intrusion, and was dismayed to see her deadly pale, her counte- nance expressive of the deepest agitation. She sat rigid and motionless as if petrified by some unpleasing apparition. I glanced angrily at the intruders. Two or them were carefully surveying my young charge — but the observation of the other, — a pale fair young man, handsome, but with an expression of countenance that did not please me, — was absorbed in his attention to Madame Lucetti, and Aline had not yet attracted his eye. Suddenly, however, he looked up, and turned his gaze, to ascertain who might be the other fair occupant of the box. His countenance scarcely underwent any per- ALINE. 283 ceptible change, he only fixed his eyes firmly on her face with the scrutinizing gaze, as of a rattle-snake, and AUne's turned still more pale, as if she felt that gaze, though she turned not her eyes to meet it. I looked sternly on the man, who then withdrew his eyes and turned to the Signora, with whom he commenced a whispered conversation. I enquired of Aline — '^ Does the presence of these people torment you? they have no business, I should think, to intrude here ; if you empower me to do so, I will put an end to this annoyance.^' " Oh no, no !" she murmured in a trembling voice, '' perhaps you had better not — I will try not to mind it." But this appeared difficult, particularly as the objectionable observation of herself was soon renewed, by this last mentioned man, accom- panied by the shghtest semblance of a cynical smile, which played upon his lips, when he turned his side-long glances towards her. 284 ALINE. This intruder soon allowed his two compa- nions to take up the discourse with the Signora, and seated himself in silence, nearly opposite to Aline. She could bear it no longer. "Oh, send them away!" she murmured, taking advantage of his turning towards Ma- dame Lucetti, who somewhat tenaciously ad- dressed him — " I cannot support this without Carlo — and the curtain must soon draw up — ah, there it is !'' I turned immediately — and rising, whilst Aline averted her head and buried her face in the curtain, I addressed myself directly to the obnoxious offender, civilly informing him that as the box had originally been taken, with the idea that it should be appropriated exclu- sively to the use of Madame Angelo, and it was not agreeable to her, to receive strangers in it, I was under the necessity of requesting, with many apologies, that her privacy might be respected. The two youngest men stared. Madame Lu- ALINE. 285 cetti looked surprised and somewhat offended — but the two former were, at any rate gentlemen, and the quiet, lady-like dignity of Aline's appear- ance having, doubtless, inspired them with a sen- timent of respect, they manifested no inclination to resist her desire, but rose to depart, after exchanging a smile and a slight shrug with Madame Lucetti, who did not appear to take this treatment in such good part. The young man, I have particularly men- tioned, did not however intend to allow himself to be chasse-ed with impunity. His companions had already passed out, and he, I trusted intended to follow, when exchang- ing a glance with the Signora, he suddenly bent towards Aline, and to ray surprise addres- sed her. I could not distinguish all he said— but heard that he called her Aline, and understood at once, that it was some former friendship or relationship with this person, which had excited 286 ALINE. her agitation in thus finding herself so unex- pectedly in his presence. However it was, his present conduct seemed to have been more beneficial than otherwise, in restoring Aline's composure, for though on the first surprise, she started violently, the colour mounting in ruby-like torrents to her face and brow, she had soon erected her head and bowed slightly, with a cold collected dignity, shewing that however, I might have seen her the timid trembling girl before a parent's anger, she was not disposed to allow Lord Mervyn (for as such my readers will have recognised him,) to pre- sume upon her position. I thought the young lord looked a little dis- concerted, and at a loss how to proceed, but recovering himself, he said, with his usual tone of sarcasm, although perhaps a slight tinge of condescension mingled w^ith it, '^How splendidly your husband sings to- night — he excels even himself!" ALINE. 287 " He does Indeed!" she answered proudly, and her eyes sparkled, as she turned them im- patiently on the stage, as if she anxiously watched his reappearance. " But I find he takes no part in the second act." Lord Mervyn stood for a moment in silence by her side, and then abruptly turned, and saying a few careless words to the little pleased Madame, he departed. Aline heaved a sigh of relief, glancing at me, as if she would discern whether my curiosity had been excited ; but I would not make it so appear. ***** ***** I will not go more minutely through the de- tails of the evening. Beautiful as it all was, my old head was swimming with fatigues, and so was it with Aline, if I might have judged by her pallid cheeks and languid eyes, when Angelo, bereft of his stage attire, joined us to scort us home. He was received by the Signora, with animated 288 ALINE. greeting, whilst Aline, springing up at the open- ing of the door, clung to his arm x'vith a fond, confiding smile — " Are you very tired, my Aline ?" he tenderly enquired, after having acknowledged with his fascinating smile, the assiduity of his fair com- patriate. '^Rather — now,'^ Aline answered, "I am quite ready to go home — but I have been de- lighted/' Angelo told her the carriage v.as waiting, and they could immediately depart. '^ But you, Signor Angelo, will return, I hope I'' exclaimed Madame Lucetti. " Mon- sieur, I am sure," and she glanced at me, " will make an excellent escort. And then,'' she con- tinued, laughingly, " your wife having dismissed my cavaliers, with such cruelty, you do not surely intend to have the barbarity to leave me all alone in this dismal opera box. — You do ? — oh these exigeante English wives P' and she glanced merrily at Ahne. *^ But really, Signor Angelo," ALINE. 289 Madame Lucelti continued, with a tone of more real pique, as having gallantly raised her hana to his lips, he made another attempt to proceed — *' Are you never to be again allowed to attend my petits soupers V^ *' Oh, go, dear Carlo, if you like ;" poor Aline murmured — wearied at this delay. But Angelo gaily exclaiming -, **■ With plea- sure, with pleasure, any other day, bella Signora, but now I beg you, let me carry this poor, pale uly home " — we were at length suffered to depart. Aline's head rested silently on her husband's bosom, for the most part of the drive home. I parted from them at the door, after receiving warm and grateful thanks from both, for the exertions 1 had made in their service. It all seemed to me, when I laid my aching head on my pillow, a strange bewildering dream. The gay glittering scene in which I had been that night — the sounds which VOL. I. o 290 ALINE. my ears, closed as I had deemed them to be for evermore to the voices ** of singing men and singing women," had been drinking in with irresistible delight ! ALINE. 291 CHAPTER XX. And thou dost mask thy grief the while With scornful sneer, and bitter smile." L. E. L ** Guess who I have seen to-night, little Ada," whispered Lord Mervyn, as, following her mo- ther, he was leading the young Miss Seyton through the crush room of the Opera House at the close of the evening's performance. " Who ?" cried the girl, lifting her eyes curi- ously to his countenance. " Yes !— and talked to in this very house !" he continued. " Any body that I know very well ?^* o 2 292 ALINE. " Yes, some one you did know very well, ever since you were born.'' " But why cannot you tell me at once who it is ?" Ada said impatiently. "Well! — if you like;" replied Lord Mer- vyn ; " but perhaps you had better not mention it to your father and mother — I have seen your sister. Aline." " Aline 1" exclaiired Ada, pausing in her strong surprise, her youthful countenance blanching with the emotion this information called forth. " But really, Lord Mervyn ?" « Yes, really !" They had by this time reached the door, and Lady Adelaide looking back, enquired with a smile — with what dire intelligence Lord Mer- vyn was dismaying her daughter's mind. He laughed and handed the beautiful girl into the carriage after her mother. ^' What was it, Ada,'' Lady Adelaide con- tinued, as they drove on, "in Lord Mervyn's ALiXE. 20:5 communication, that seemed to frighten you so much }" Ada hesitated. " Nothing, Mamma ! at least. I had better not tell you vvhat it was — you might be angry — for it was about poor Aline." '•' Ah ! then indeed you had better not tell me — it is very improper Lord Mervyn men- tioning the subject. I desire you will never allow him to do so to you again.'^ And Lady Adelaide relapsed into displeased silence. But the mischief was done, and for the fu- ture Ada Seyton did not go to the Opera with thoughts of music uppermost in her mind. They were divided with the idea of the be- loved sister who might be also there, and often, had she dared, would she have put the question to her previous informer Lord Mervyn, who, having received a little lecture on the sul)ject from Lady Adelaide, did no": for some time volunteer to relieve her curiosity on that point. 294 ALINE. A lively interest existed in the young and ap- parently very childish mind of Ada for the sister vpho had — during their early years — inspired her with the most tender love and admiration, even though of late she had been taught to look upon her as one who had deceived her pa- rents and disgraced herself and family — it was not an interest — as all who know the workings of the human heart will well imagine — likely to be diminished by this dai'k, mysterious alien- ation from its object. She longed to talk about poor Aline to her sistersj the two elders of whom she could at least, more or less, have tutored into her affec- tionate remembrance ; but the subject had been so strictly forbidden from the first, that this would have seemed to her to be involving them in some crime. Even Lord Mervyn — the only means in that way open to her — was now cut off, by her mother's mandate ; and as yet, that mother's mandate was as the law of the Medes and Persians to the young daughter. ALINE. 295 As for Lord Mervyn, my readers doubtless wish to know how he may have carried off the bitterness and angry feehng which the elope- ment of the beloved of his spoilt and selfish heart, must necessarily have created. Some might have doubted that he ever could have really loved Aline — for from the scene in the hotel, when he displayed his fury in the presence of the offenders themselves — never did his nearest relations hear him speak of the affair, but with calm, careless scorn, or pity for the poor girl, who had so thrown herself avvay — nor had he withdrawn himself from society, nor at all relaxed in his intimacy with the Seyton's. It is true, Sir Alexander could no longer take the same pleasure in the sight of one, who awoke such painful remembrances in his mind- but of course it was different with Lady Adelaide, and after a little time she had been able to receive him with all the ease and cordi- ality of former days. 296 ALINE. Lord Mervyn displayed the same brotherly interest for the little girls — for Ada especially — into whose society, now that she was so brought forward by her Mother, he was much thrown, and whom many thought bid fair in time to take her step sister's place in his affections. But some change, dated from the epoch of the elopement, had certainly been worked in the young lord. He had plunged into a wilder life of dissipation — whilst ladies complained of the caustic sarcasm — always in no slight degree peculiar to the manner and demeanour of the spoilt favourite — being now increased to ten- fold bitterness. Strange the power which a pure, early love can exert over a man's heart ! A power which may be for good or evil in the end — good if the love be prosperous — the contrary, I am inclined to think, if unfortunate. It is said, disappointment is salutary to the young, nay even, "that he is blessed whose first love has been crossed -'" but (to men, more ALI.VE. 297 especially) — it is my opinion that love crosses are seldom sanative— that the wound thereby inflicted, scarcely ever proves beneficial to their future career in life. They had perhaps set out with their happi- ness placed in some fair virtuous course — their hopes are baffled, and henceforth they deem themselves excused for the recklessness of the life in which they choose to embark. But it is indeed wonderful, the power of which I speak, the strength and constancy with which it lingers in man's breast ! For instance, it seemed a strange thing that the young girlish creature, whom he had known from a child, should have gained an influence over Lord Mervyn's mind, of sufficient force to keep unhealed the wound — even to the moment when after long months of absence he met Aline in the opera box— and again when a few days after he stood at the door of Madame Lucetti's supper room, and could not make up his mind to enter, and brave the torture of o 3 298 ALINE. being in the odious presence of Aline's husband — whom he discovered amongst the guests. Not all the entreaties of the fair hostess could overrule his caprice — as she deemed it — not having at the time any distinct idea of the cause of the aversion. She managed, however, with her woman^s tact to worm it out at last. ** He could not sit down to supper,^' he petu- lantly exclaimed, " with that infernal Italian fellow—Angelo !" Madame Lucetti defended her favourite vigorously, and even went so far as to declare carelessly that she could not then, she was sorry to say, enjoy the pleasure of his Lordship's society, as nothing would tempt her to exclude Signor Angelo from her house and table — such a particular friend of hers, as the young Italian had ever been ! Lord Mervyn pouted his lip like a spoilt child and answered that he was sorry then that henceforth he should have to deprive himself of the pleasure of supping with Madame Lucetti. ALINE. 299 Then suddenly changing her mood, the Italian laughed merrily, and proposed as an amend- ment, that Angelo should bring with him the next time his pretty English wife, which might qualify in a degree the husband's objected pre- sence. This seemed to make some impression on Lord Mervyn, but he said with a sneer — "Aline ! and would you bring her here?" .• " And why not, pray, my Lord ?" ** She would be completely out of her ele- ment/' was the reply. " I do not see that/' persisted the Italian, " it is the one into which her present position in life naturally leads her ; she is fortunate if she gain an entree into an element as comme ilfaut^'' and Madame curtseyed \vith a graceful mock humility to Lord Mervyn, ''as the one over which— I flatter myself— I have the honour to preside — Oh yes !" she continued, as she per- ceived the brightening countenance of her listener, " I mean to make good friends with 300 ALINE, that pretty, cold young sposa of Angelo's — I like her looks — She will soon tire of playing the recluse at Brompton — depend upon it — and find it very convenient to have me to take her by the hand, and put her a little au fait in the proceedings of our set — Yes ! though she did look so shy of me the other night.'' And in some degree she gained her point — this fascinating Madame Lucetti ! She called one day on Aline when I was present, and even during that interview much of the coldness and reserve which my heroine had testified towards her on their first meeting, was melted away from her heart by the kind and engaging manners of her new friend. Nor was it to be wondered that the poor, young thing, so bereft of female companionship should readily incline towards the insinuating foreigner ! how could she resist it when offered to her in so seducing a shape, as that of the gay and beautiful Italian ? Madame Lucetti was the wife of the cele- ALINE. 301 brated singer — whose wonderful bass voice was deservedly the delight and glory of the Italian Opera. She was herself of good family, and no scandal of any grave nature had ever yet been seriously attached to her character, although from the style and tenor of her manners and deportment the world in general, might have been reasonably led to look upon it with some suspicion. But I am persuaded, Angelo thought no evil of this woman — or he never would have allowed Aline to cultivate her intimacy. 302 ALINE. CHAPTER XXI. " No bird, whose feathers gaily flaunt, Delights in cage to bide : * * * * And better loves my lady bright, To sit in liberty and light. * * * * We hold our greyhound in our hand, Our falcon on our glove , But where shall we find leash or band. For dame that loves to rove ?" Scott's Marmion. One afternoon Aline sent to me, to beg that I would come to see her start in her new pony carriage. I went accordingly, and found a beautiful, little equipage at the door. I entered the house, and there was Aline very prettily dressed, on the point of descend- ing the stairs, with her husband and Madame ALINE. 303 Lucetti, who I learnt was to accompany Aline, and initiate her in the mysteries of driving, in which art, Madame was an adept. A groom followed on horseback ; and alto- gether it was as well appointed a turn out as could be desired. Aline appeared proud and happy, at the prospect of the new enjoyment, of which she was about to partake— Madame Lucetti, all spirit and animation, looking bright and hand- some. I certainly rather marvelled that Angelo could trust his wife with such assurance, to her care, but the Signora seemed to possess much skill and confidence, and the ponies — they assured me — were most excellently trained. The whole concern was bought from »i lady oi driving celebrity, and considered perfection. Angelo's eyes sparkled with pleasure, as he handed the ladies into the carriage, and after a great many tender words between him and Aline, and some laughing speeches from Ma- dame, the latter touched the little steeds with 304 ALfNE. the whip, and off they started. He watched them proceed with a proud, well pleased smile. He was so glad, he said, to give his Aline a little pleasure and amusement, she had led of late so triste a life — so much alone and Ma- dame Lucetti was a very gay companion. " Meglio sola che male accompagnatay' I felt somewhat inclined to answer ; for what- soever Madame Lucetti might be, I could not but dread the companionship, into which, from her husband's position, Aline must often inevitably be thrown. We continued to converse for a short time ; but at length, Angelo, on looking at his watch, abruptly broke off, said he was very late, and taking leave of me, re-entered the house. A short time after, I saw a cab drive to the door, into which, with piles of music under his arm, he hastily sprang, and then was driven away. At about seven that evening, I was surprised ALINE. 305 by his suddenly entering my room, with a pale, agitated countenance. "Monsieur ;" he exclaimed, "Aline has not yet returned-— what can have happened ? Gra- cious heavens !— if any accident have occurred !'' 1 tried to calm his fears. The ladies might have been tempted to prolong their stay in the park — the fashionable hour having only just elapsed. But no — Aline knew that he would return to dinner at half past six — that he was engaged for a concert in the evening — she would not have been absent intentionally for the world, he was sure — she would not have subjected him to such anxiety and terror on her account. I could not gainsay this conjugal confidence, but thought to myself at the same time, that if Signor Angelo began to supply his young wife with such gay company, and all the means and appliances to boot for gay doings, he must not expect to find things quite the same as before, any more than the owner of the tame, pet bird. 306 ALINE. who lets his favourite forth into the open garden, amidst its wild companions, can hope to find it ever ready, as formerly, at his beck and call. I offered, nevertheless, to be of any possible use, proposing if it would be any relief to him that I should go in search of the truant, alone, or accompany him, for that purpose. He thanked me, and accepted the latter pro- position. His engagement would prevent the possibility of his returning with his wife, there- fore if I would be so kind as to accompany him, he said, it would be a comfort, to leave Alina, when found, under my charge, and escort home. She was also to have gone to the concert, but that would now be impossible. Angelo had already made his evening toilette, and having sent for a cab, returned to me, to await its coming ; during which interval I enquired whether he had dined, or did not intend to do so before setting out. He appeared to have forgotten all about his ALINE. 307 dinner, but said it would be impossible for him to sit down to eat then — that he was not hun- gry, and had no time ! I found, on further enquiry, that he had not touched food since the morning, and, seeing how pale and exhausted he already appeared, I implored him to recruit his strength by the re- freshment of food. All my persuasions, however, only induced him to swallow a glass of wine, and the cab stopping at the door, he hurried me into it, and we drove through the park, without per- ceiving any signs of the object of our anxiety. "Where does Madame Lucetti live?" I en- quired. " In Charles Street,'* was the reply. " Shall we go there }" I suggested, and thither we were accordingly about to proceed, when Angelo, leaning from the window, as we passed a large mansion in South Audley Street, said, with a peculiar expression on his counte- nance, as he gazed upon it — 308 ALINE. *^ I have often been in that house — but when shall I ever enter it a^ain ?' At the same moment, a servant, standing at that very door, started forward, suddenly, as if he had caught sight of and recognised Angelo ; for he hailed our driver, calling upon him to stop, which he accordingly did ; and the man approached, and respectfully addressed my companion, saying — " Signor Angelo, I believe ! I beg pardon for stopping you — but — I thought that you would like to know that Madame Angelo is at Sir Alexander's, not hurt, only frightened after her accident — I was just going to accompany her home/' '' Accident?— Good Heavens! — then she has had an accident ?'' cried Angelo. " Let me out I beg." The servant stepped back, to give place to the cabman to obey the order, but did not him- self attempt to lend assistance ; and Angelo seemed suddenly to change his mind, for when ALINE. 309 half out of the carriage he turned back abruptly, saying to me in a low voice — '* I cannot enter that house now — would you, Sir, have any objection to go in and bring me my Aline, if she is well enough ; or give me intelhgence concerning her. It is getting very late, but I cannot possibly go on without having heard some tidings of my wife.'' I descended accordingly, and walking back the few^ steps we had driven beyond the point, the servant hastily preceded me, looking evi- dently relieved, that I, instead of Angelo, was about to enter the house. Soon I was ushered into the mansion, which, as I had just ascertained, belonged to Sir Alex- ander Seyton. Livery servants were standing about the hall, who stared curiously at me ; but my cicerone did not yield me to the charge of any of them, but with a very important and mysterious air conducted me along— through lobbies and pas- sao-es — to the door of an apartment, at which— 310 ALINE. begging me to wait an instant — he knocked, then entered, closing it behind him. I heard voices from within, and the door soon re-openingj I was requested to enter. I did soj and was much struck by the scene which presented itself to my sight. It was the library, evidently, the apartment in which I found myself — a handsome, spacious room — and on a sofa, at one extremity, my eyes immediately sin- gled out Aline, seated, surrounded by a group of beautiful children, and one pretty girl of fifteen or sixteen, close to her side, fondly holding her hand within her own. Aline was very pale, and her countenance bore signs of strong and recent agitation. Her eyes were downcast, and there was a happy, though nervous smile, trem- bling on her lip, which spalce little of inward ease, or pure pleasurable emotion. Leaning against the mantel-piece, stood the same grave, proud man, I had seen at Bromp- ton, a few weeks before, only now, somewhat less stern — less firm — less unbending in de- ALINE. 311 meanour, his eyes expressive of softened emotion, as they moved restlessly over this little group. But the most striking feature of the picture, perhaps, consisted in the very beautiful woman standing by Sir Alexander's side, the haughty swelling of whose tall form, and the scornful annoyance depicted in her whole countenance, as she followed the direction of her husband's glance, told of no very strong feeling of satis- faction to be moving within her breast. Of course, I beheld this in one rapid coup (TcBul, for my appearance necessarily interrupted the aspect of the scene. All eyes immediately turned towards me, and Aline, starting to her feet and colouring deeply, stood looking almost as one who is convicted in the commission of some crime, as she glanced timidly towards me, whilst I approached nearer to the group. Sir Alexander bowed civillv, his lady also haughtily inclining her head. 312 ALINE. Having returned their salutations, and apo- logized for my intrusion, I addressed myself to Aline. " We have been very uneasy, dear lady, on your account, as you may imagine, and your husband is now anxiously vv^aiting to see you, or to receive the tidings, I may convey to him, concerning your w^ell-doing, if you are not ready to join him immediately." "Ready? oh yes, quite ready!" she mur- mured. *' I have been very impatient to return to him, but hoped some message would have reached him before now." ** No! he has received none,'^ I answered, and musing on the slight symptoms of impatience I fancied to have seen in the young wife's demeanour on my entrance, passing in review before my spirit, all the uxury and splendid comforts of circumstance and situation, into which I beheld Aline, as it uere once again naturalized,— I could not but refrain a sigh, not now called forth so much for Aline's, as for Angelo's sake. ALINE. 313 But the young wife really seemed now, in all haste to rejoin her husband, and to request, by timid glances towards her parents, permis- sion so to do. She had been divested of some part of her driving apparel, and on Sir Alexander turning to me, with the enquiry whether a carriage was in attendance for his daughter, and my re- plying in the affirmative, and that Signor x\ngelo waited therein, Sir Alexander turned coldly away, and Aline ventured to ask her sister to assist her in reassuming her attire ; with which request, the young Ada complied with affectionate alacrity, though she looked sad, ^Yhen, the service being completed, Aline thanked her and bade her adieu. The young girl kissed her sister affectionately, but seemed constrained in her demonstrations of tender regret, by the cold, silent presence of her parents. Sir Alexander had invited me to be seated, which offer— being in haste to depart--I did VOL. I. ** 314 ALINE. not accept, and after the question concerning the carriage, he did not again address me. AUne next fondly kissed each of her sisters, and her Httle brother, then with a humble, timid mien approached her father. He took her hand very gravely, and held it for a moment, whilst she so earnestly and pite- ously gazed up into his face, that the stern man could not refrain. He stooped down and kissed her brow, then abruptly turned away, took a very business-like looking letter from a servant who entered at that moment, and left the room — and Aline, her eyes swimming with the tears of thrilling, grateful emotion, which no doubt, that parental kiss — the first for so long a time received — had excited, now stood before Lady Adelaide, and lifted a beseeching gaze towards her ; but that lady, now seated, holding a lovely child on her knee, preserved her cold hauteur of demeanour, merely bowing her fair, stately head, making, as it might have seemed, her ALIXE. 315 little burden, who caressingly clung around her, an excuse for not offering her hand. But Aline would not thus be satisfied. "Lady Adelaide !'' she murmured, in a low voice, " do not force me to go without having thanked you for this great — oh how great plea- sure that you have allowed me !" '^ You have nothing to thank me for, Aline," the haughty lady replied, in a hurried, impatient manner, though I thought I discovered a slight trembling in her rich, fine toned voice, which in some degree, interfered with the full effect of the deportment it seemed her desire to assume. "You know,'' she continued, " that with my sanction, what has happened, would never have taken place, nor never will again, if I can pre- vent it. I gave you my sentiments on the sub- ject, and at that time they were also your father's — when you asked for admittance at this door, some weeks ago. Mine remain unchanged,^' Lady Adelaide continued, with increased vehe- mence, ''and ever will so remain. If such oc- p 2 316 ALINE. currences as those of to-day are, by the officious, unjustifiable interference or ruse of others, to be forced upon me, I cannot help it ; but as far as regards my children/' and she cast her eyes round upon them, " I must take measures to prevent for the future, what I so highly disap- prove." Aline, who was bending over the little hands of her baby sister, which she had taken in her own, murmured in a tearful voice — " I shall never trouble you again, Lady Ade- laide — and believe me, not of my own accord, would I have intruded now ; but do not grudge me this one indulgence, as I am here — an in- dulgence, which as you say, can never be re- peated. Never, never will I again intrude into the house, in which I was born — never again disgust you with my presence — but now — say but one kind word — give me but one gentle glance from your beautiful eyes, and I shall leave you happy .'^ '' There — there !" cried Lady Adelaide, in ALINE. 317 her turn, evidently affected, and she extended her hand to her step-daughter, but at the same time averted her head, as if in impatient annoyance. AUne seized it, and covered it with tears and kisses. " That is enough !" Lady Adelaide continued, in a tone of passionate agitation ; "ah, this pains and distresses me, beyond measure ! Go now, I entreat you — I cannot bear it, and what can it avail?" I now offered Aline ray arm, to lead her away, feeling for the suspense and anxiety in which her husband had remained all this time — and she delayed no longer accompanying me. She dried her eyes, as we passed through the passages, composing herself, no doubt, for her meeting with Carlo, concerning whom at the same time she made some hurried enquiries. The servants as we passed, all regarded my companion with respectful interest and scrutiny, the porter in particular, whom she timidly no- 318 ALINE. ticedj and who pressed forward eagerly to open the door, and attend her to the carriage. Aline was soon clasped in her husband's arms, but I was obliged to interrupt the ecstacies of Signor Angelo, at their reunion, in order to ascertain what was to be the plan of our pro- ceedings, and at the same time to remind him that the appointed hour for his engagement had nearly arrived. " Oh, my Ahne ! must I leave you then, so soon, or are you well enough to accompany me as far as the Hanover Square Rooms, and then return with Monsieur ?" " Certainly, certainly. Carlo ! I could not quit you at this moment, for the world— oh, those tiresome engagements ! — they are always in the way — how much they take you from me!" *'No more, than engagements of pleasure might have taken from you a husband of a different position, Aline," Angelo remarked, with a tender smile ; " but I have yet to ask ALINE. 319 what has thus ta.ken yoit from me, so very long. Oh ! how you alarmed me ! what was my terror when you did not return ! and when I found you once more within those walls — ah ! 1 fan- cied for one dreadful moment, that my Aline would never more come forth from them to Carlo again — that she was lost to him for *o" ever I" " Carlo — how could such imaginings for a moment occur to you?" Aline exclaimed, re- proachfully — ''ah no!" with a sigh, "but I have so much to tell you — too much to attempt in this short time that we are together, and my head begins to ache sadly.'' Her husband begged her not to fatigue her- self, but to keep all she had to say, till his return home, but Aline shortly d'='.tailed the ad- ventures of the day. They were scarcely concluded when our ar- rival at the door of the concert rooms compelled them to part — and I was som escorting Aline back to her home. 320 ALINE. During our trajet, I learned from her^ fur- ther particulars of the accident — but, as my readers are soon to have them at large, I will not detail them here. I entered the house with Aline, and it was interesting to witness the pleasure of the young mother, when restored to her infant. The respectable nurse, who I have before mentioned, brought it down to meet her, testify- ing much reHef and pleasure at her return. Satisfied with consigning her into such good and careful hands, I bade Aline good night, and took my leave. I had indeed enlisted myself into a strangely novel service. END OF vor.. «^ r ^liit*x,im j3^ ^^^ UNIVERSITY OF ILUN0I9-URBANA ^J*