"Hold!" cried Edric, "I cannot allow you to send for the princess till I have first explained my real sentiments——"
"Nonsense!" said the duke. "However, I see there is no occasion to send for her; for yonder she comes. I will meet her and explain my sentiments, and then it will be quite time enough to talk about yours."
So saying, he broke from Edric, who attempted to detain him; and advanced to meet Rosabella.
"Good God!" exclaimed Edric, "what will become of me? this obstinate old man will tell her, I wish our union: and for worlds, I would not mortify the proud spirit of Rosabella, by publicly declining her hand. What shall I do? I must request a private interview, and throwing myself upon her mercy, persuade her to reject me."
"Then you still persist in your determination," said Sir Ambrose. "I had hoped my kindness in appearing to forget what passed yesterday, had disposed you to comply with my wishes. However, since you seem inclined to adhere to your resolution, you cannot be surprised that I should follow your example, and I can only repeat, that if you do not marry Rosabella, you know the alternative."
"I do," said Edric, firmly; "and I am prepared to meet it."
In the mean time, the duke had met Rosabella, and had evidently begun to declare his wishes to her, for the colour had fled from her cheeks, and her eyes were cast upon the ground, whilst her strongly compressed lips, as she walked silently by his side, showed that it was with infinite difficulty that she controlled her feelings sufficiently to hear him with patience.
"In short," said the duke, as they drew near Sir Ambrose and his son, "I have fixed upon the day after to-morrow for your wedding, and, though I own the time is somewhat short to make preparations, you must be satisfied to have your wedding clothes after your marriage instead of before, which I should think need not make much difference. So now all you'll have to do, will be to tell your cousin; and the day after to-morrow your name will be Montagu."
"And do you know of whom you are disposing so unceremoniously?" asked Rosabella, raising her brilliant eyes from the ground, and fixing them upon him with a look of proud scorn. The duke shrunk involuntarily from the withering glance, which seemed to fall upon him with the fabled power of that of the basilisk.
"Of whom I am disposing?" stammered he, unconsciously repeating her words, "Of whom I am disposing? Why, of my niece, to be sure," he continued, arranging with difficulty his scattered ideas. "You are my niece, are you not?"
"Yes," returned Rosabella, "unfortunately I am your niece; and I blush for an uncle who does not scruple to abuse so barbarously the last legacy bequeathed to him by an unfortunate brother. Yes, my lord duke, I am your niece—your protégée—your dependant. I am not ashamed to own that I owe my daily bread to your bounty; but notwithstanding all this, I am not aware that I am your slave, nor do I think the pecuniary obligations I am under to you, sufficient to give you the right of disposing of me as an article of furniture, or a beast of burthen."
"You mistake the matter entirely, Rosabella," said the duke; "I do not wish to hurt your feelings."
"Do you think, then, that I am formed of stone or iron, that I am to be told to marry when and where you list, without having my inclinations consulted or my affections gained? Look at the bridegroom for whom you destine me. Certainly I must be insensibility itself to resist such overwhelming ardour."
"You are right, Rosabella," replied the duke; "he is enough to provoke a stone. I admire your spirit; a woman should not unsought be won, and he, I own, looks as if he expected you to go down upon your knees, and beg him to accept of your hand."
"You are mistaken," returned Edric, now taunted into the necessity of avowing himself, in spite of his former resolutions; "it is not merely coldness that dictates my conduct. I should have explained myself before, had you permitted it, though I would willingly have spared the princess this public declaration. However, as I am now forced to avow my real sentiments, I openly and solemnly protest, that no torments shall ever force me to become the husband of Rosabella. I am sorry——"
"Spare your pity, Sir," said the princess, haughtily, and interrupting him—"I, at least, have no occasion for it; for know, that I too would sooner experience a thousand deaths than become your wife. Nothing but the respect I owe my uncle has prevented my declaring my sentiments sooner."
"And only my affection for my father kept me silent."
"What a considerate pair! and how highly we ought to feel obliged to them!" said the duke, ironically. "And pray, if your respect and affection permit you to answer the question, what may it be your high will and pleasure to intend doing now?"
"Whatever you please," replied both Edric and Rosabella, almost at the same instant.
"Dear me! how amazingly condescending! So, as long as you are permitted to have your own way, we may have the honour of suggesting plans for your approbation whenever we please. How astonishingly kind! I am afraid we shall never be able to show ourselves properly grateful, Sir Ambrose."
"This irony, my lord," said Edric, firmly, "is unworthy both of yourself and us. I will allow that you and my father have both reason to be displeased with our conduct, as it has disappointed hopes which you have long cherished; but permit me to say, that if you had expressed your displeasure in serious, manly, and open terms as he did, it would have been much more befitting your high rank and the importance of the subject, than the taunting irony you have thought proper to make use of."
"Schooled too! by St. Wellington!" exclaimed the duke. "Upon my word, these are fine times, when a man of my age and rank is to be lectured by a beardless stripling!"
"I did not mean to offend your grace," said Edric; "and I am sorry the violence of my feelings compelled me to use language unbefitting my youth, and disrespectful to an old and valued friend of my father."
"Say no more, young man," replied the duke, "apologies only double an offence. If such are your sentiments, I would rather you declared than concealed them, as I think even insolence preferable to hypocrisy. However, after what has passed, I can never meet you amicably again, and I shall even avoid entering the house of my friend, Sir Ambrose, whilst you remain in it." This was spoken with dignity, and a majestic firmness of tone. The duke's voice, however, trembled a little as he continued—"I shall be sorry to lose the society of my old friend, and I should be equally sorry to induce him to desert you, but I cannot willingly expose myself to insult; and I must accordingly decline all farther intercourse with your family."
"Decline all farther intercourse with our family!" exclaimed Sir Ambrose. "This from you, duke! And Edmund! my darling Edmund! is he to suffer for the faults of his brother?"
"How do you know that the loss of my daughter would make him suffer?" asked the duke, sneeringly. "Perhaps when the moment came for me to give her to him, he too would make a bow, and humbly asking my pardon, beg leave to decline the honour. Oh! curse such politeness!"
"My dear duke, I would answer for Edmund with my life. He adores Elvira, and loves you as a father. You, too, have always professed to love him—"
"And so I do. Didn't I rejoice like an old fool at his triumph? Didn't I determine to give my daughter, and bestow my estate upon him? And were not these proofs of love?"
"They were, they were! my dear friend! and, as he has never done any thing to offend you, why should not your favourable intentions continue? Why should you punish him on account of this ungrateful idiot, whom I renounce for ever."
"Oh, my father! my dear father!" exclaimed Edric; "do not say for ever!"
"Yes, for ever! I repeat," resumed Sir Ambrose. "Begone and let me never see you more. I told you yesterday my determination, and as you have chosen to incur the penalty, you must take the consequence. Come, my friend," continued he, taking the arm of the duke, "let us leave him to his own reflections. Thank God! we are none of us answerable for the faults of our children; and it would indeed be sad, if you and I were to break a friendship