Sir Robert remembered his promise to his wife, that he would never urge

his daughter's marriage with Burrell; and although he avoided noticing

this as an apology to the knight, yet he firmly stated his dislike to

press Constantia on the subject; and earnestly inquired if there were no

other way by which he could show his gratitude than by interfering in

the matter, at all events, until the year of mourning for Lady Cecil had

expired.

Burrell feigned astonishment at this reply: the hand of Mistress Cecil,

he said, had long been betrothed to him; he confessed that he did not

think Sir Robert would for a moment have hesitated to comply with his

most reasonable request: he urged various motives for hastening the

union, and finally entreated the baronet's permission to address his

daughter herself on the subject. To this Sir Robert offered no

opposition; he was ignorant of the strength of Constantia's feelings

with regard to Burrell. She had been affianced to him in her early

girlhood, when much too young to have an opinion on the matter; and as

the union had never been pressed upon her, she had not been called upon

to state any objections to it. Her poor mother had seen, with the

clearness of a mother's love, that the marriage would never tend to her

child's happiness: she had observed both characters narrowly, and was

perfectly convinced of Burrell's worthlessness. She could not impress

this conviction on Sir Robert's mind; but in her last moments she

extorted from him the promise that he would never urge the union. This

was, as we have seen, all she could obtain; and Sir Robert was content

to "keep the word of promise to the ear," without reference to the

sense.

Burrell seemed perfectly satisfied with the permission he had obtained,

and left Sir Robert in the library, expressing his determination to

speak to Mistress Cecil on the subject that evening.

"And he will make her a very affectionate husband," mused Sir Robert,

after his departure: "how can he do otherwise? But I do not interfere in

it; I know she has no other attachment; and my Constantia's sense of

duty will oblige her to love her husband. Oh, yes, she will be

happy--happy--happy"--he said, as if the repetition of the word could

give birth to the feeling.

It was the clear and balmy twilight; the sun had left the west in glory,

and the delicious breeze of evening was mingling among the young leaves

of the shrubs and trees; all appeared in contentment and at peace, when

the Lady Frances Cromwell and Constance sat together upon a mossy bank,

but a few yards distant from the house, yet so overshadowed by venerable

trees, that not a turret nor a vestige of the building was to be seen.

The spot they had chosen for their resting-place was known as "the Fairy

Ring:" it was a circular mound, girdled by evergreens, which, in their

turn, were belted by forest-trees, that spread in an opposite direction

to the house, into what was called the Ash Copse. The dark green of our

winter shrub, the spotted laurustinus, was relieved by the golden

tassels of the laburnum, just opening into bloom; the hawthorn contended

for beauty and perfume with the delicate blossoms of the purple lilac;

while its modest sister, the white, sent forth her pale green leaves,

and delicate buds, over a bed of double violets:-"Where all the earth beneath--the heaven above,

Teem'd with the earliest spring of joyous youth,

Sunshine, and flowers, and vague, and virgin love."




readonlinefreebook.com Copyright 2016 - 2024