“Marry!” cried Edric, in alarm.
“Yes,” returned his father, “the Duke has just most generously proposed that you shall marry Rosabella; and that he will give her a fortune equal to what he gives Elvira.”
“But I do not love Rosabella, and nothing shall induce me to marry her: I should be utterly miserable even to think of it.”
“Not marry Rosabella!” exclaimed Sir Ambrose, in the utmost astonishment.
“Indeed, I cannot. I am convinced she would make me wretched, for our tempers don’t assimilate, and we should both be miserable. I should be very sorry to cause either you or the Duke a moment’s uneasiness. But in an affair like this, which concerns the happiness of my whole life.—”
“Don’t talk to me, Sir,” cried Sir Ambrose, in a violent passion, “I won’t hear a word, Sir—not a syllable: my son shall obey my orders. Go to your room, Sir, and prepare to marry Rosabella immediately, or never expect to see my face again.”
“My dear father!” said Edric, attempting to take Sir Ambrose’s hand.
“Away, Sir!” cried the baronet, shaking him off; “obedience far outweighs words. If I am your dear father, you will act in compliance with my wishes; and if you do not, it is a mockery to call me ‘dear.’ ”
“I cannot marry Rosabella!”
“Was ever such obstinacy!—such folly! The world will think you distracted.”
“I care not for the world!” cried Edric, impatiently.
“But you must care for the world—the world must not be slighted! and as long as you live in it, you must conform to its opinions. I don’t like to hear people say they don’t care for the world; when people pretend to scorn it, it is generally because they have done something to make it scorn them.”
“But, my dear father! you would not wish me to sacrifice my conscience to its dictates.”
“And pray, Sir, what has your conscience to do with the matter in question?”
“Should I not sacrifice it by marrying a woman I feel I could never love? In my opinion, nothing can be more sacred than the marriage vow; and with what feelings could I enter into this solemn engagement in the presence of Almighty God, calling upon him to witness it, when I knew my heart was at variance with my words? My soul would recoil with horror at such blasphemy.”
“You talk about your conscience, Edric—but should you not rather say your inclinations? The person of Rosabella does not please your fancy, I suppose; and to gratify a capricious whim, you would destroy the happiness of your father, and ruin your own prospects forever.”
“It is not of the person of Rosabella that I complain; I allow her to be beautiful as a Venus, and that her talents even exceed her personal charms: but when I see her dark eyes flashing fury, and her lips curved into an expression of pride, hatred, or scorn, I forget her beauty, and think only of the fearful passions of her soul.”
“Your objections are futile, Edric; at any rate, they are of no avail. You must marry her—I am sorry it is against your inclination, but I will not have my authority disputed: however, as I have always been an indulgent father, I do not wish you to decide hastily, and I give you four-and-twenty hours to make up your mind: at the expiration of which time you shall marry Rosabella or quit my house forever. No reply, young man; I won’t hear a word.”
It was in vain to attempt a reply; and Edric left his father’s presence oppressed by that strange, mysterious presentiment of evil, which, like a fearful cloud, dark, gloomy, and impenetrable, sometimes hangs upon our thoughts, foreboding horrors; though so dimly and indistinctly, that, like the gigantic phantoms we sometimes fancy through the mist of twilight, their terrors seemed increased tenfold by the very uncertainty that half shrouds them from our sight. Mingled with these feelings, was one of wild, unearthly joy. Driven from his father’s house, he would be free to travel—his doubts might be satisfied—he might, at last, penetrate into the secrets of the grave; and partake, without restraint, of the so ardently desired fruit of the tree of knowledge. Nothing would then be hidden from him. Nature would be forced to yield up her treasures to his view—her mysteries would be revealed, and he would become great, omniscient, and godlike. His mind filled with a chaos of thoughts like these, which he strove in vain to arrange, and which seemed to swell his brain almost to bursting, Edric sought the study of Dr. Entwerfen to inform his worthy tutor of the change a few short hours had wrought in his destiny.
V
“Why did not you join with your cousin in inviting Clara Montagu to go with us to London?” said the Duke to Rosabella, as their balloon proceeded homewards.
“I thought the humility of my situation rendered it improper,” returned Rosabella, with an affected air of modesty. “It surely would be wrong for a poor dependant like myself, to take the liberty of inviting guests to the house of her patron.”
“Rosabella! you know I can’t bear to hear you talk so ridiculously—I hate to hear of your dependant situation, and humility, and nonsense; we all know that you are not humble, you are as proud as Lucifer; and as to dependance, I never make any distinction between you and Elvira. You are my daughters whilst I live, and shall be my heiresses when I die—aye, and perhaps before I die, but you’ll see.”
“I am sure my cousin did not mean to offend-you, Sir,” said Elvira; “She loves you tenderly, and—”
“Apropos de bottes!” exclaimed the Duke, “what letter was that which I saw you receive this morning?”
“It was from Edmund,” replied Elvira trembling and blushing, as she drew it from her bosom, and gave it to her father.
In case of Claudia’s death, Elvira and Rosabella were the next heiresses to the throne; and as neither had
