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 http://www.archive.org/details/henriettatemplel01disr
 
 HENRIETTA TEMPLE.
 
 HENRIETTA TEMPLE, 
 
 St Ucbc ^torn. 
 
 BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR OF "VIVIAN GREY." 
 
 ''• Quoth Sancho, read it out by all means ; for I mightily delight 
 in hearingr of Love-stories." 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LOXDuX : 
 
 HENRY COLBURN, 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET 
 
 MDC'CXXXVJI.
 
 LONDON I 
 ERAOBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIAR^
 
 ^23 
 B3SA 
 
 TO 
 
 THE COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY, 
 
 LA 
 
 SJksc Volumes 
 
 ARE INSCRIBED 
 
 BY HIS AFFECTIONATE FRIEND. 

 
 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF THE FAMILY OF ARMINE, 
 AND ESPECIALLY OF SIR FERDINAND AND OF 
 SIR RATCLIFFE. 
 
 The family of Armine entered England with 
 William the Norman. Ralph D'Ermyn was 
 standard-bearer of the Conqueror, and shared 
 prodigally in the plunder, as appears by 
 Domesday Book. At the time of the general 
 survey, the family of Ermyn, or Armyn, pos- 
 sessed numerous manors in Nottinghamshire, 
 and several in the shire of Lincoln. William 
 d 'Armyn, lord of the honor of Armyn, was 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 one of the subscribing Barons to the Great 
 Charter. His predecessor died in the Holy 
 Land before Ascalon. A succession of stout 
 barons and valiant knights maintained the high 
 fortunes of the family ; and, in the course of the 
 various struggles with France, they obtained 
 possession of several fair castles in Guienne and 
 Gascony. In the wars of the Roses the 
 Armyns sided with the house of Lancaster. 
 Ferdinand Armyn, who shared the exile of 
 Henry the Seventh, was knighted on Bosworth 
 Field, and soon after created Earl of Tewkes- 
 bury. Faithful to the Church, the second Lord 
 Tewkesbury became involved in one of those 
 numerous risings that harassed the last years of 
 Henry the Eighth. The rebellion was unsuc- 
 cessful, Lord Tewkesbury was beheaded, his 
 blood attainted, and his numerous estates 
 forfeited to the Crown. A younger branch of 
 the family, who had adopted Protestantism, 
 married the daughter of Sir Francis Walsing- 
 ham, and, attracted by his talents in negociation, 
 the notice of Queen Elizabeth. He was sent on
 
 A LOVE STORY. 3 
 
 a secret mission to the Low Countries, where, 
 having greatly distinguished himself, he obtained 
 on his return the restoration of the family estate 
 of Armine, in Nottinghamshire, to which he 
 retired after an eminently prosperous career, 
 and amused the latter years of his life in the 
 construction of a family mansion, built in that 
 national style of architecture since described by 
 the name of his royal mistress, at once magnifi- 
 cent and convenient. His son Sir Walsing- 
 ham Armine figured in the first batch of 
 baronets under James the First. 
 
 During the memorable struggle between the 
 Crown and the Commons, in the reign of the 
 unhappy Charles, the Armine family became 
 most distinguished Cavaliers. The second Sir 
 Walsingham raised a troop of horse, and gained 
 great credit by charging at the head of his 
 regiment, and defeating Sir Arthur Haselrigg's 
 Cuirassiers. It was the first time that that 
 impenetrable band had been taught to fly ; but 
 the conqueror was covered with wounds. The 
 
 b2
 
 4 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 same Sir Walsingham also successfully defended 
 Armine House against the Commons, and com- 
 manded the cavalry at the battle of Newbury, 
 where two of his brothers were slain. For these 
 various services and sufferings Sir Walsingham 
 was advanced to the dignity of a baron of the 
 realm, by the title of Lord Armine, of Armine, 
 in the county of Nottingham. He died without 
 issue, but the baronetcy devolved on his youngest 
 brother, Sir Ferdinando. 
 
 The Armine family, who had relapsed into 
 popery, followed the fortunes of the second 
 James, and the head of the house died at St. 
 Germains. His son, however, had been prudent 
 enough to remain in England and support the 
 new dynasty, by which means he contrived to 
 secure his title and estates. Roman Catholics, 
 however, the Armines always remained, and 
 this circumstance accounts for this once-distin- 
 guished family no longer figuring in the history 
 of their country. As far, therefore, as the 
 house of Armine was concerned, time flew
 
 A LOVE STORY. O 
 
 during the next century with immemorable 
 wing. The family led a secluded life on their 
 estate, intermarrying only with the great Ca- 
 tholic families, and duly begetting baronets. 
 
 At length arose, in the person of the last Sir 
 Ferdinand Armine, one of those extraordinary and 
 rarely gifted beings who require only an oppor- 
 tunity to influence the fortunes of their nation, 
 and to figure as a Caesar or an Alcibiades. 
 Beautiful, brilliant, and ambitious, the young 
 and restless Armine quitted, in his eighteenth 
 year, the house of his fathers, and his stepdame 
 of a country, and entered the Imperial service. 
 His blood and creed gained him a flattering 
 reception; his skill and valour soon made him 
 distinguished. The world rang with stories of 
 his romantic bravery, his gallantries, his eccentric 
 manners, and his political intrigues, for he 
 n early contrived to be elected King of Poland. 
 Whether it were disgust at being foiled in this 
 high object by the influence of Austria, or 
 whether, as was much whispered at the time, he
 
 6 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 had dared to urge his insolent and unsuccessful 
 suit on a still more delicate subject to the 
 Empress Queen herself, certain it is that Sir 
 Ferdinand suddenly quitted the Imperial 
 service, and appeared at Constantinople in 
 person. The man, whom a point of honour 
 prevented from becoming a Protestant in his 
 native country, had no scruples about his pro- 
 fession of faith at Stamboul : certain it is that 
 the English baronet soon rose high in the 
 favour of the Sultan, assumed the Turkish 
 dress, conformed to the Turkish customs, and, 
 finally, led against Austria a division of the 
 Turkish army. Having gratified his pique by 
 defeating the Imperial forces in a sanguinary 
 engagement, and obtaining a favourable peace 
 for the Porte, Sir Ferdinand Armine doffed his 
 turban, and suddenly reappeared in his native 
 country. After the sketch we have given of 
 the last ten years of his life, it is unnecessary 
 to observe that Sir Ferdinand Armine im- 
 mediately became what is called extremely
 
 A LOVE STORY. 
 
 fashionable ; and, as he was now in Protestant 
 England, the empire of fashion was the only 
 one in which the young Catholic could dis- 
 tinguish himself. Let us then charitably set 
 down to the score of his political disabilities the 
 fantastic dissipation and the frantic prodigality 
 in which the liveliness of his imagination, and 
 the energy of his soul, exhausted themselves. 
 After three startling years he married the Lady 
 Barbara Ratcliffe, whose previous divorce from 
 her husband, the Earl of Faulconville, Sir 
 Ferdinand had occasioned. He was, however, 
 separated from his lady during the first year of 
 their more hallowed union, and, retiring to Rome, 
 Sir Ferdinand became apparently very devout. At 
 the end of a year he offered to transfer the whole of 
 his property to the Church, provided the Pope 
 would allow him an annuity, and make him a 
 Cardinal. His Holiness not deeming it fit to 
 consent to the proposition, Sir Ferdinand quitted 
 his capital in a huff, and, returning to England, 
 laid claim to the Peerages of Tewkesbury and
 
 8 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 Ararine. Although assured of failing in these 
 claims, and himself, perhaps, as certain of ill 
 success as his lawyers, Sir Ferdinand, neverthe- 
 less, expended upwards of 60,000/. in their 
 promotion, and was amply repaid for the 
 expenditure in the gratification of his vanity in 
 keeping his name before the public. He was, 
 indeed, never content, except when he was 
 astonishing mankind, and while he was appa- 
 rently exerting all his efforts to become a King 
 of Poland, a Roman Cardinal, or an English 
 Peer, the crown, the coronet, and the scarlet 
 hat, were in truth ever secondary points with 
 him, compared to the sensation throughout 
 Europe, which the effort was contrived and 
 calculated to ensure. 
 
 On his second return to his native country, 
 Sir Ferdinand had not re-entered society. For 
 such a man, indeed, society, with all its superfi- 
 cial excitement, and all the shadowy variety 
 with which it attempts to cloud the essential 
 monotony of its nature, was intolerably dull and
 
 A LOVE STORY. 9 
 
 common- place. Sir Ferdinand, on the contrary, 
 shut himself up in Armine, having previously 
 announced to the world that he was going to 
 write his memoirs. This history, the construc- 
 tion of a castle, and the prosecution of his 
 claims before the House of Lords, apparently 
 occupied his time to his satisfaction, for he 
 remained quiet for several years, until, on the 
 breaking out of the French Revolution, he 
 hastened to Paris, became a member of the 
 Jacobin Club, and of the National Convention. 
 The name of Citizen Armine appears among the 
 regicides. Perhaps in this vote he avenged 
 the loss of the crown of Poland, and the still 
 more mortifying repulse he received from the 
 mother of Marie Antoinette. After the execu- 
 tion of the royal victims, however, it was disco- 
 vered that Citizen Armine had made them an 
 offer to save their lives and raise an insurrection 
 in La Vendee, provided he was made Lieutenant- 
 general of the kingdom. At his trial, which, 
 from the nature of the accusation and the cha- 
 
 b 3
 
 10 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 racter of the accused, occasioned to his gratifi- 
 cation a great sensation, he made no effort to 
 defend himself; but seemed to glory in the 
 chivalric crime. He was hurried to the 
 guillotine, and met his fate with the greatest 
 composure, assuring the public with a mysterious 
 air, that, had he lived four-and-twenty hours 
 longer, everything would have been arranged, 
 and the troubles which he foresaw impending 
 for Europe prevented. So successfully had 
 Armine played his part, that his mysterious and 
 doubtful career occasioned a controversy, from 
 which only the appearance of Napoleon dis- 
 tracted universal attention, and which, indeed, 
 only wholly ceased within these few years. 
 What were his intentions ? Was he or was he 
 not a sincere Jacobin ? If he made the offer to 
 the royal family, why did he vote for their 
 death ? Was he resolved, at all events, to be at 
 the head of one of the parties ? A middle 
 course would not suit such a man ; and so on. 
 Interminable were the queries and their solu-
 
 A LOVE STORY. 11 
 
 tions, the pamphlets and the memoirs, which the 
 conduct of this vain man occasioned, and which 
 must assuredly have appeased his manes. Re- 
 cently it has been discovered that the charge 
 brought against Armine was perfectly false and 
 purely malicious. Its victim, however, could 
 not resist the dazzling celebrity of the imaginary 
 crime, and he preferred the reputation of closing 
 his career by conduct, which at once perplexed 
 and astonished mankind, to a vindication which 
 would have deprived his name of some brilliant 
 accessories, and spared him to a life of which he 
 was, perhaps, wearied. 
 
 By the unhappy victim of his vanity and pas- 
 sion Sir Ferdinand Armine left one child, a son, 
 whom he had never seen, now Sir Ratcliffe. 
 Brought up in sadness and in seclusion, educa- 
 tion had faithfully developed the characteristics 
 of a reserved and melancholy mind. Pride of 
 lineage and sentiments of religion, which even in 
 early youth darkened into bigotry, were not 
 incompatible with strong affections, a stern sense
 
 12 HENRIETTA TEMPLE, 
 
 of duty, and a spirit of cbivalric honour. 
 Limited in capacity, he was, however, firm in 
 purpose. Trembling at the name of his father, 
 and devoted to the unhappy parent whose pre- 
 sence he had scarcely ever quitted, a word of 
 reproach had never escaped his lips against the 
 chieftain of his blood, and one too whose career, 
 how little soever his child could sympathise with 
 it, still maintained, in men's mouths and minds, 
 the name and memory of the house of Armine. 
 At the death of his father Sir RatclifFe had just 
 attained his majority, and he succeeded to 
 immense estates encumbered with mortgages, 
 and to considerable debts, which his feelings of 
 honour would have compelled him to discharge, 
 had they indeed been enforced by no other 
 claim. The estates of the family, on their 
 restoration, had not been entailed ; but, until Sir 
 Ferdinand, no head of the house had abused the 
 confidence of his ancestors, and the vast posses- 
 sions of the house of Armine had descended 
 unimpaired ; and unimpaired, as far as he was
 
 A LOVE STORY. 13 
 
 concerned, Sir Ratcliffe determined they should 
 remain. Although, by the sale of the estates, 
 not only the incumbrances and liabilities might 
 have been discharged, but himself left in posses- 
 sion of a moderate independence, Sir Ratcliffe 
 at once resolved to part with nothing. Fresh 
 sums were raised for the payment of the debts, 
 and the mortgages now consumed nearly the 
 whole rental of the lands on which they were 
 secured. Sir Ratcliffe obtained for himself only 
 an annuity of three hundred per annum, which 
 he presented to his mother, in addition to the 
 small portion which she had received on her first 
 marriage ; and for himself, visiting Armine 
 Place for the first time, he roamed for a few 
 days with sad complacency about that magnifi- 
 cent demesne, and then, taking down from the 
 walls of the magnificent hall the sabre with 
 which his father had defeated the Imperial host, 
 he embarked for Cadiz, and very shortly after 
 his arrival obtained a commission in the Spanish 
 service.
 
 14 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 Although the hereditary valour of the Ar- 
 mines had descended to their forlorn repre- 
 sentative, it is not probable that, under any 
 circumstances, Sir Ratcliffe would have risen to 
 any particular eminence in the country of his 
 temporary adoption. His was not one of those 
 minds born to command and to create ; and his 
 temper was too proud to serve and to solicit. His 
 residence in Spain, however, was not altogether 
 without satisfaction. It was during this sojourn 
 that he gained the little knowledge of life and 
 human nature he possessed ; and the creed and 
 solemn manners of the land harmonised with 
 his faith and habits. Among these strangers, 
 too, the proud young Englishman felt not so 
 keenly the degradation of his house; and some- 
 times — though his was not the fatal gift of ima- 
 gination — sometimes he indulged in day dreams 
 of its rise. Unpractised in business, and not 
 gifted with that intuitive quickness which 
 supplies experience and often baffles it, Ratcliffe 
 Armine, who had not quitted the domestic
 
 A LOVE STORY. 15 
 
 hearth even for the purposes of education, was 
 yet fortunate enough to possess a devoted friend ; 
 and this was Glastonbury, his tutor, and con- 
 fessor to his mother. It was to him that Sir 
 Ratcliffe intrusted the management of his 
 affairs, with a confidence which was deserved ; 
 for Glastonbury sympathised with all his feelings, 
 and was so wrapped up in the glory of the 
 family, that he had no greater ambition in 
 life than to become their historiographer, and 
 had been for years employed in amassing 
 materials for a great work dedicated to their 
 celebrity. 
 
 When Ratcliffe Armine had been absent about 
 three years his mother died. Her death was 
 unexpected. She had not fulfilled two-thirds of 
 the allotted period of the Psalmist, and in spite 
 of many sorrows she was still beautiful. Glas- 
 tonbury, who communicated to him the intelli- 
 gence in a letter, in which he vainly attempted 
 to suppress his own overwhelming affliction, 
 counselled his immediate return to England, if
 
 16 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 but for a season, and the unhappy Ratcliffe 
 followed his advice. By the death of his mother 
 Sir Ratcliffe Armine became possessed, for the 
 first time, of a very small, but still an independent 
 income ; and having paid a visit, soon after his 
 return to his native country, to a Catholic noble- 
 man, to whom his acquaintance had been of 
 some use when travelling in Spain, he became 
 enamoured of one of his daughters, and his 
 passion being returned, and not disapproved 
 by the father, he was soon after married to 
 Constance, the eldest daughter of Lord 
 Gran di son.
 
 A LOVE STORY. 17 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ARMINE DESCRIBED. 
 
 After his marriage Sir Ratcliffe determined 
 to reside at Armine. In one of the largest parks 
 in England there yet remained a fragment of a 
 vast Elizabethan pile, that in old days bore the 
 name of Armine Place. When Sir Ferdinand 
 had commenced building Armine Castle, he had 
 pulled down the old mansion, partly for the sake 
 of its site and partly for the sake of its materials. 
 Long lines of turreted and many-windowed 
 walls, tall towers, and lofty arches, now rose in 
 picturesque confusion on the green ascent where 
 heretofore old Sir Walsingham had raised the 
 fair and convenient dwelling, which he justly 
 deemed might have served the purpose of a long 
 posterity. The hall and chief staircase of the
 
 18 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 castle, and a gallery, alone were finished ; and 
 many a day had Sir Ferdinand passed in arrang- 
 ing the pictures, the armour, and choice rarities 
 of these magnificent apartments. The rest of 
 the building was a mere shell ; nor was it in all 
 parts even roofed in. Heaps of bricks and stone, 
 and piles of timber, appeared in all directions ; 
 and traces of the sudden stoppage of a great 
 work might be observed in the temporary saw- 
 pits still remaining, the sheds for the workmen, 
 and the kilns and furnaces, which never had 
 been removed. Time, however, that had stained 
 the neglected towers with an antique tint, and 
 had permitted many a generation of summer 
 birds to build their sunny nests on all the coignes 
 of vantage of the unfinished walls, had exercised 
 a mellowing influence even on these rude acces- 
 sories, and in the course of years they had been 
 so drenched by the rain, and so buffeted by the 
 wind, and had become so covered with moss and 
 ivy, that they rather added to than detracted 
 from the picturesque character of the whole 
 mass.
 
 A LOVE STORY. 19 
 
 A few hundred yards from the castle, but 
 situate on the same verdant rising ground, and 
 commanding, although well sheltered, an exten- 
 sive view over the wide park, was the fragment 
 of the old Place that we have noticed. The rough 
 and undulating rent which marked the severance 
 of the building was now thickly covered with 
 ivy, which in its gamesome luxuriance had con- 
 trived also to climb up a remaining stack of tall 
 chimneys, and to spread over the covering of the 
 large oriel window. This fragment contained a 
 set of very pleasant chambers, which, having been 
 occupied by the late baronet, were of course 
 furnished with great taste and comfort; and 
 there was, moreover, accommodation sufficient for 
 a small establishment. Armine Place, before Sir 
 Ferdinand, unfortunately for his descendants, 
 determined in the eighteenth century on building 
 a feudal castle, had been situate in very famous 
 pleasure-grounds, which extended at the back of 
 the mansion over a space of several hundred 
 acres. The grounds in the immediate vicinity
 
 20 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 of the buildings had of course suffered severely, 
 but the far greater portion had only been 
 neglected ; and there were some indeed who 
 deemed, as they wandered through the arbour- 
 walks of this enchanting wilderness, that its 
 beauty had been materially enhanced even by 
 this very neglect. It seemed like a forest in a 
 beautiful romance ; a green and bowery wilder- 
 ness where Boccaccio would have loved to woo, 
 and Watteau to paint. So artfully, indeed, had 
 the walks been planned, that they seemed inter- 
 minable, nor was there a single point in the whole 
 pleasaunce where the keenest eye could have 
 detected a limit. Sometimes you wandered in 
 those arched and winding walks dear to pensive 
 spirits ; sometimes you emerged on a plot of turf 
 blazing in the sunshine, a small and bright 
 savannah, and gazed with wonder on the group 
 of black and mighty cedars that rose from its 
 centre, with their sharp and spreading foliage. 
 The beautiful and the vast blended together; 
 and the moment after you had beheld with
 
 A LOVE STORY. 21 
 
 delight a bed of geraniums or of myrtles, you 
 found yourself in an amphitheatre of Italian 
 pines. A strange exotic perfume filled the air : 
 you trod on the flowers of other lands ; and 
 shrubs and plants, that usually are only trusted 
 from their conservatories like sultanas from their 
 jealousies, to sniff the air and recal their bloom, 
 here learning from hardship the philosophy of 
 endurance, had struggled successfully even 
 against northern winters, and wantoned now in 
 native and unpruned luxuriance. Sir Ferdinand, 
 when he resided at Armine, was accustomed to 
 fill these pleasure-grounds with macaws, and 
 other birds of gorgeous plumage; but these had 
 fled away with their master, all but two swans, 
 which still floated on the surface of an artificial 
 lake, narrow, but of great and unswerving 
 length, and which marked the centre of this 
 Paradise. 
 
 In the remains of the ancient seat of his 
 fathers Sir RatclifFe Armine and his bride now 
 sought a home. The principal chamber of
 
 22 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 Armine Place was a large irregular room, with 
 a low but richly-carved oaken roof, studded with 
 achievements. This apartment was lighted by 
 the oriel window we have mentioned, the upper 
 panes of which contained some very ancient 
 specimens of painted glass, and, having been 
 fitted up by Sir Ferdinand as a library, contained 
 a large collection of valuable books. From the 
 library you entered through an arched door of 
 painted glass into a small room, of which, it 
 being much out of repair when the family 
 arrived, Lady Armine had seized the opportunity 
 of gratifying her taste in the adornment. She 
 had hung it with some old-fashioned pea-green 
 damask, that exhibited to advantage several 
 copies of Spanish paintings by herself, for her 
 ladyship was a very skilful artist. The third 
 and remaining chamber was the dining-room, a 
 somewhat gloomy chamber, being shadowed by 
 a neighbouring chestnut. A portrait of Sir 
 Ferdinand, when a youth, in a Venetian dress, 
 was suspended over the old-fashioned fire-
 
 A LOVE STORY. 23 
 
 place ; and opposite hung a fine hunting piece 
 by Schneiders. Lady Armine was a very amiable 
 and accomplished woman. She had enjoyed the 
 advantage of a foreign education under the 
 inspection of a cautious parent ; and a residence 
 on the Continent, while it had afforded her 
 many graces, had not, as unfortunately some- 
 times is the case, divested her of those more 
 substantive though less showy qualities of which 
 a husband knows the value. She was pious and 
 dutiful : her manners were graceful, for she had 
 visited courts and mixed in the most polished 
 circles, but she had fortunately not learnt to 
 affect insensibility as a system, or to believe that 
 the essence of good breeding consists in showing 
 your fellow creatures that you despise them. Her 
 cheerful temper solaced the constitutional gloom 
 of Sir Ratcliffe, and, indeed, had originally won 
 his heart, even more than her remarkable beauty ; 
 and while at the same time she loved a country 
 life, she possessed in a lettered taste, in a beautiful
 
 24 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 and highly-cultivated voice, and in a scientific 
 knowledge of music and of painting, all those 
 resources which prevent retirement degenerating 
 into loneliness. Her foibles, if we must confess 
 that she was not faultless, endeared her to her 
 husband, for her temper reflected his own 
 pride, and she possessed the taste for splen- 
 dour which was also his native mood, although 
 circumstances had compelled him to stifle its 
 gratification. 
 
 Love, pure and profound, had alone prompted 
 the union between Ratcliffe Armine and Con- 
 stance Grandison. Doubtless, like all of her race, 
 she might have chosen amid the wealthiest of the 
 Catholic nobles and gentry one who would have 
 been proud to have mingled his life with hers ; 
 but, with a soul not insensible to the splendid 
 accidents of existence, she yielded her heart to 
 one who could repay the rich sacrifice only with 
 devotion. His poverty, his pride, his dangerous 
 and hereditary gift of beauty, his mournful
 
 A LOVE STORY. 25 
 
 life, his illustrious lineage, bis reserved and 
 romantic mind, had at once attracted her fancy 
 and captivated her heart. She shared all his 
 aspirations and sympathised with all his hopes ; 
 and the old glory of the house of Armine, and its 
 revival and restoration, were the object of her 
 daily thoughts, and often of her nightly dreams. 
 
 With these feelings Lady Armine settled 
 herself at her new home scarcely with a pang 
 that the whole of the park in which she lived 
 was let out as grazing ground, and only trusting, 
 as she beheld the groups of ruminating cattle, 
 that the day might yet come for the antlered 
 tenants of the bowers to resume their shady 
 dwellings. The good man and his wife who 
 hitherto had inhabited the old Place, and shown 
 the castle and the pleasaunce to passing travel- 
 lers, were, under the new order of affairs, 
 promoted to the respective offices of serving-man 
 and cook, or butler and housekeeper, as they 
 styled themselves in the village. A maiden 
 
 vol. i. c
 
 26 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 brought from Grandison to wait on Lady 
 Armine completed the establishment, with her 
 young brother, who, among numerous duties, 
 performed the office of groom, and attended to 
 a pair of beautiful white ponies which Sir 
 Ratcliffe drove in a phaeton. This equipage, 
 which was remarkable for its elegance, was the 
 especial delight of Lady Armine, and certainly 
 the only piece of splendour in which Sir Rat- 
 cliffe indulged. As for neighbourhood, Sir Rat- 
 cliffe, on his arrival, of course received a visit 
 from the rector of his parish, and, by the 
 courteous medium of this gentleman, he soon 
 occasioned it to be generally understood that 
 he was not anxious that the example of his 
 rector should be followed. The intimation, in 
 spite of much curiosity, was of course respected. 
 Nobody called upon the Armines. This happy 
 couple, however, were too much engrossed with 
 their own society to require amusement from any 
 other sources than themselves. The honeymoon
 
 A LOVE STORY. 27 
 
 was past in wandering in the pleasure-grounds, 
 and in wondering at their own marvellous hap- 
 piness. Then Lady Armine would sit on a 
 green bank and sing her choicest songs, and Sir 
 Ratcliffe repaid her for her kindness by speeches 
 softer even than serenades. The arrangement 
 of their dwelling occupied the second month : 
 each day witnessed some felicitous yet economical 
 alteration of her creative taste. The third 
 month Lady Armine determined to make a 
 garden. 
 
 " I wish," said her affectionate husband, as 
 he toiled with delight in her service, M I wish, 
 my dear Constance, that Glastonbury was here ; 
 he was such a capital gardener." 
 
 iC Let us ask him, dear Ratcliffe ; and, per- 
 haps, for such a friend, we have already allowed 
 too great a space of time to elapse without 
 sending an invitation." 
 
 " Why, we are so happy," said Sir Ratcliffe, 
 smiling; "and yet Glastonbury is the best creature 
 
 c 2
 
 28 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 in the world. I hope you will like him, dear 
 Constance." 
 
 " I am sure I shall, dear Ratcliffe. Give me 
 that geranium, love. Write to him to-day; 
 write to Glastonbury to-day."
 
 A LOVE STORY. 29 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ARRIVAL OF GLASTONBURY. 
 
 Adrian Glastonbury was a younger son 
 of an old but decayed English family. He had 
 been educated at a college of Jesuits in France, 
 and had entered at an early period of life the 
 service of the Romish Church, whose communion 
 his family had never quitted. At college young 
 Glastonbury had been alike distinguished for his 
 assiduous talents, and for the extreme benevo- 
 lence of his disposition. His was one of those 
 minds to which refinement is natural, and which 
 learning and experience never deprive of sim- 
 plicity. Apparently, his passions were not 
 violent ; perhaps they were restrained by his 
 profound piety. Next to his devotion, Glaston- 
 bury was most remarkable for his taste. The
 
 30 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 magnificent temples in which the mysteries of 
 the Deity and saints he worshipped were cele- 
 brated developed the latent predisposition for 
 the beautiful, which became almost the master 
 sentiment of his life. In the inspired and 
 inspiring paintings that crowned the altars of the 
 churches and the cathedrals in which he minis- 
 tered, Glastonbury first studied art ; and it was 
 as he glided along the solemn shade of those 
 Gothic aisles, gazing on the brave groining of the 
 vaulted roofs, whose deep and sublime shadows 
 so beautifully contrasted with the sparkling 
 shrines and the delicate chantries below, that 
 he first imbibed that passion for the architecture 
 of the middle ages that afterwards led him on 
 many a pleasant pilgrimage, with no better com- 
 panions than a wallet and a sketch-book. Indeed 
 so very sensible was Glastonbury of the influence 
 of the early and constant scene of his youth on 
 his imagination, that he was wont to trace his 
 love of heraldry, of which he possessed a 
 remarkable knowledge, to the emblazoned win-
 
 A LOVE STORY. 31 
 
 dows that perpetuated the memory and the 
 achievements of many a pious founder. 
 
 When Glastonbury was about twenty-one 
 years of age, he unexpectedly inherited from an 
 uncle a sum which, though by no means consi- 
 derable, was for him a sufficient independence ; 
 and as no opening in the service of the Church 
 at this moment offered itself, which he considered 
 it a duty to pursue, he determined to gratify 
 that restless feeling which seems inseparable 
 from the youth of men gifted with fine sensibi- 
 lities, and which probably arises in an uncon- 
 scious desire to quit the common-place, and to 
 discover the ideal. He wandered on foot 
 throughout the whole of Switzerland and Italy ; 
 and, after more than three years absence, returned 
 to England with several thousand sketches, and 
 a complete Alpine Hortus Siccus. He was even 
 more proud of the latter than of having kissed 
 the Pope's toe. In the next seven years the life of 
 Glastonbury was nearly equally divided between 
 the duties of his sacred profession and the grati-
 
 32 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 fication of his simple and elegant tastes. He 
 resided principally in Lancashire, where he 
 became librarian to a Catholic nobleman of the 
 highest rank, whose notice he had first attracted 
 by publishing a description of his grace's resi- 
 dence, illustrated by his drawings. The duke, 
 who was a man of fine taste and antiquarian 
 pursuits, and an exceedingly benevolent person, 
 sought Glastonbury's acquaintance in conse- 
 quence of the publication, and from that moment 
 a close and cherished intimacy subsisted between 
 them. 
 
 In the absence of the family, however, Glas- 
 tonbury found time for many excursions; by 
 means of which he at last completed drawings 
 of all our cathedrals. There remained for 
 him still the abbeys and the minsters of the 
 West of England, a subject on which he was 
 ever very eloquent. Glastonbury performed all 
 these excursions on foot, armed only with an 
 ashen staff which he had cut in his early travels, 
 and respecting which he was very superstitious ;
 
 A LOVE STORY. 33 
 
 so that he would have no more thought of jour- 
 neying without this stick than most other people 
 without their hat. Indeed, to speak truth, 
 Glastonbury has been known to quit a house 
 occasionally without that necessary appendage, 
 for, from living much alone, he was not a little 
 absent ; but, instead of piquing himself on such 
 eccentricities, they ever occasioned him mortifica- 
 tion. Yet Glastonbury was an universal favou- 
 rite, and ever a welcome guest. In his journeys 
 he had no want of hosts ; for there was 
 not a Catholic family which would not have 
 been hurt had he passed them without a 
 visit. He was indeed a rarely accomplished 
 personage. An admirable scholar and profound 
 antiquary, he possessed also a considerable prac- 
 tical knowledge of the less severe sciences, was a 
 fine artist, and no contemptible musician. His 
 pen, too, was that of a ready writer; — if his 
 sonnets be ever published, they will rank among 
 the finest in our literature. 
 
 c 3
 
 34 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 Glastonbury was about thirty when he was 
 induced by Lady Barbara Armine to quit a roof 
 where he had passed some happy years, and to 
 undertake the education of her son Ratcliffe, a 
 child of eight years of age. From this time 
 Glastonbury in a great degree withdrew himself 
 from his former connexions, and so completely 
 abandoned his previous mode of life, that he 
 never quitted his new home. His pupil repaid 
 him for his zeal rather by the goodness of his 
 disposition, and his unblemished conduct, than 
 by any remarkable brilliancy of talents or 
 acquirements : but Ratcliffe, and particu- 
 larly his mother, were capable of appreciating 
 Glastonbury ; and certain it is, whatever might 
 be the cause, he returned their sympathy with 
 deep emotion, for every thought and feeling of 
 his existence seemed dedicated to their happiness 
 and prosperity. 
 
 So great indeed was the shock which he expe- 
 rienced at the unexpected death of Lady Barbara,
 
 A LOVE STORY. 35 
 
 that for some time he meditated assuming the 
 cowl ; and, if the absence of his pupil prevented 
 the accomplishment of this project, the plan was 
 only postponed, not abandoned. The speedy 
 marriage of Sir Ratcliffe followed. Circum- 
 stances had prevented Glastonbury from being 
 present at the ceremony. It was impossible for 
 him to retire to the cloister without seeing his 
 pupil. Business, if not affection, rendered an 
 interview between them necessary. It was 
 equally impossible for Glastonbury to trouble a 
 bride and bridegroom with his presence. When, 
 however, three months had elapsed, he began to 
 believe that he might venture to propose a 
 meeting to Sir Ratcliffe ; but while he was yet 
 meditating on this step, he was anticipated by 
 the receipt of a letter containing a very warm 
 invitation to Armine. 
 
 It was a beautiful sunshiny afternoon in June. 
 Lady Armine was seated in front of the Place 
 looking towards the park, and busied with her
 
 36 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 work; while Sir Ratcliffe, stretched on the 
 grass, was reading to her the last poem of 
 Scott, which they had just received from the 
 neighbouring town. 
 
 " Ratcliffe, my dear," said Lady Armine, 
 " some one approaches." 
 
 "A tramper, Constance ?" 
 
 -" No, no, my love, rise ; it is a gentleman." 
 
 " Who can it be?" said Sir Ratcliffe, rising; 
 " perhaps it is your brother, love. Ah ! no, it 
 is — it is Glastonbury ! " 
 
 And at these words, he ran forward, jumped 
 over the iron hurdle which separated their lawn 
 from the park, nor stopt his quick pace until he 
 reached a middle-aged man of very prepossessing 
 appearance, though certainly not unsullied by 
 the dust, for assuredly the guest had travelled 
 far and long. 
 
 " My dear Glastonbury, " exclaimed Sir Rat- 
 cliffe, embracing him, and speaking under the 
 influence of an excitement in which he rarely
 
 A LOVE STORY. 37 
 
 indulged, "lam the happiest fellow alive. How- 
 do you do ? I will introduce you to Constance 
 directly. She is dying to know you, and quite 
 prepared to love you as much as myself. O ! 
 my dear Glastonbury, you have no idea how 
 happy I am. She is a perfect angel." 
 
 " I am sure of it," said Glastonbury, very 
 seriously. 
 
 Sir Ratcliffe hurried his tutor along. " Here 
 is my best friend, Constance," he eagerly ex- 
 claimed. Lady Armine rose and welcomed 
 Mr. Glastonbury very cordially. " Your pre- 
 sence, my dear sir, has, I assure you, been long 
 desired by both of us," she said, with a delight- 
 ful smile. 
 
 " No compliments, believe me,' 1 added Sir 
 Ratcliffe, " Constance never pays compliments. 
 Do you, sweet? She fixed upon your own 
 room, herself. She always calls it Mr. Glaston- 
 bury's room ; she does upon my word. Is not 
 she an angel r "
 
 38 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 M Ah ! madam," said Mr. Glastonbury, 
 laying his hand very gently on the shoulder 
 of Sir Ratcliffe, and meaning to say something 
 very felicitous, " I know this dear youth well ; 
 and I have always thought whoever could 
 claim this heart should be counted a very 
 fortunate woman." 
 
 " And such the possessor esteems herself,' 1 
 replied Lady Armine with a smile. 
 
 Sir Ratcliffe, after a quarter of an hour or so 
 had passed in conversation, said.. " Come, Glaston- 
 bury, you have arrived at a good time ; for dinner 
 is at hand. Let me show you to your room. I 
 fear you have had a hot day's journey — Thank 
 God, we are together again — Give me your 
 staff — I will take care of it — No fear of that — 
 So, this way — You have seen the old Place 
 before? — Take care of that step — I say Con- 
 stance," said Sir Ratcliffe, in a suppressed voice, 
 and running back to his wife, " How do you 
 like him?"
 
 A LOVE STORY. 39 
 
 " Very much, indeed." 
 " But do you really ? " 
 " Really, truly." 
 
 " Angel ! " exclaimed the gratified Sir Rat- 
 cliffe.
 
 40 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 PEOGRESS OF AFFAIRS AT ARMINE. 
 
 Life is adventurous. Events are perpetually 
 occurring, even in the calmness of domestic 
 existence, which change in an instant the whole 
 train and tenor of our thoughts and feelings, and 
 often materially influence our fortunes and our 
 character. It is strange, and sometimes as 
 profitable as it is singular, to recal our state on 
 the eve of some acquaintance which transfigures 
 our being ; with some man whose philosophy 
 revolutionizes our mind; with some woman 
 whose charms metamorphose our career. These 
 retrospective meditations are fruitful of self- 
 knowledge. 
 
 The visit of Glastonbury was one of those 
 incidents, which, from the unexpected results
 
 A LOVE STORY. 41 
 
 that they occasion, swell into events. He had 
 not been long a guest at Armine before Sir 
 Ratcliffe and his lady could not refrain from 
 mutually communicating to each other the gra- 
 tification they should feel could Glastonbury be 
 induced to cast his lot among them. His bene- 
 volent and placid temper, his many accomplish- 
 ments, and the entire affection which he evidently 
 entertained for everybody that bore the name 
 and for everything that related to the fortunes 
 of Armine, all pointed him out as a friend 
 alike to be cherished and to be valued. Under 
 his auspices the garden of the fair Constance 
 soon flourished : his taste guided her pencil, 
 and his voice accompanied her lute. Sir Rat- 
 cliffe, too, thoroughly enjoyed his society : 
 Glastonbury was with him the only link, in life, 
 between the present and the past. They talked 
 over old times together ; and sorrowful recol- 
 lections lost half their bitterness, from the 
 tenderness of his sympathetic reminiscences. 
 Sir Ratcliffe, too, was conscious of the value
 
 42 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 of such a companion for his gifted wife. And 
 Glastonbury, moreover, among his many accom- 
 plishments, had the excellent quality of never 
 being in the way. He was aware that young 
 people, and especially young lovers, are not 
 averse sometimes to being alone ; and his friends, 
 in his absence, never felt that he was neglected, 
 because his pursuits were so various, and his 
 resources so numerous, that they were sure he 
 was employed and amused. 
 
 In the pleasaunce of Armine, at the termina- 
 tion of a long turfen avenue of purple beeches, 
 there was a turreted gate, flanked by round 
 towers, intended by Sir Ferdinand for one of 
 the principal entrances of his castle. Over the 
 gate were small but convenient chambers, to 
 which you ascended by a winding staircase in 
 one of the towers ; the other was a mere shell. 
 It was sunset; the long vista gleamed in the 
 dying rays, that shed also a rich breadth of 
 light over the bold and baronial arch. Our 
 friends had been examining the chambers, and
 
 A LOVE STORY. 43 
 
 Lady Armine, who was a little wearied by the 
 exertion, stood opposite the building, leaning on 
 her husband and his friend. 
 
 " A man might go far, and find a worse 
 dwelling than that portal," said Glastonbury, 
 musingly. "Methinks life might glide away 
 pleasantly enough in those little rooms, with 
 one's books and drawings, and this noble avenue 
 for a pensive stroll." 
 
 " I wish to heaven, my dear Glastonbury, 
 you would try the experiment," said Sir Ratcliffe. 
 
 "Ah! do, Mr. Glastonbury," added Lady 
 Armine, " take pity upon us ! " 
 
 " At any rate, it is not so dull as a cloister," 
 added Sir Ratcliffe, " and, say what they like, 
 there is nothing like living among friends.'" 
 
 " You would find me very troublesome," 
 replied Glastonbury with a smile, and then, 
 turning the conversation, evidently more from 
 embarrassment than distaste, he remarked the 
 singularity of the purple beeches. 
 
 Their origin was uncertain ; but one circum-
 
 44 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 stance is sure : that, before another month had 
 past, Glastonbury was tenant for life of the 
 portal of Armine Castle, and all his books and 
 collections were safely stowed and arranged in 
 the rooms with which he had been so much 
 pleased. 
 
 The course of time for some years flowed on 
 happily at Armine. In the second year of their 
 marriage Lady Armine presented her husband 
 with a son. Their family was never afterwards 
 increased, but the proud father was consoled by 
 the sex of his child for the recollection that the 
 existence of his line depended upon the precious 
 contingency of a single life. The boy was 
 christened Ferdinand. With the exception of 
 an annual visit to Lord Grandison, the Armine 
 family never quitted their home. Necessity as 
 well as taste induced this regularity of life. 
 The affairs of Sir Ratcliffe did not improve. 
 His mortgagees were more strict in their 
 demands of interest, than his tenants in pay- 
 ment of their rents. His man of business, who
 
 A LOVE STORY. 45 
 
 had made his fortune in the service of the 
 family, was not wanting in accommodation to 
 his client ; but he was a man of business ; he 
 could not sympathise with the peculiar feelings 
 and fancies of Sir Ratcliffe, and he persisted 
 in seizing every opportunity of urging on him 
 the advisability of selling his estates. However, 
 by strict economy and temporary assistance from 
 his lawyer, Sir Ratcliffe, during the first ten 
 years of his marriage, managed to carry on affairs, 
 and though occasional embarrassments sometimes 
 caused him fits of gloom and despondency, the 
 sanguine spirit of his wife, and the confidence 
 in the destiny of their beautiful child which she 
 regularly enforced upon him, maintained on the 
 whole his courage. All their hopes and joys 
 were indeed centred in the education of the little 
 Ferdinand. At ten years of age he was one of 
 those spirited, and at the same time docile, boys, 
 who seem to combine with the wild and careless 
 grace of childhood the thoughtfulness and self- 
 discipline of maturer age. It was the constant
 
 46 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 and truthful boast of his parents, that, in spite of 
 all his liveliness, he had never in the whole 
 course of his life disobeyed them. In the village, 
 where he was idolised, they called him " the 
 little prince ;" he was so gentle and so generous ; 
 so kind, and yet so dignified in his demeanour. 
 His education was very remarkable ; for though 
 he never quitted home, and lived indeed in such 
 extreme seclusion, so richly gifted were those 
 few persons with whom he passed his life, that 
 it would have been difficult to have fixed upon 
 a youth, however favoured by fortune, who 
 enjoyed greater advantages for the cultivation of 
 his mind and manners. From the first dawn of 
 the intellect of the young Armine, Glastonbury 
 had devoted himself to its culture ; and the kind 
 scholar, who had not shrunk from the painful 
 and patient task of impregnating a young mind 
 with the seeds of knowledge, had bedewed its 
 budding promise with all the fertilising influence 
 of his learning and his taste. As Ferdinand 
 advanced in years, he had participated in the
 
 A LOVE STORY. 47 
 
 accomplishments of his mother ; from her he 
 derived not only a taste for the fine arts, but no 
 unskilful practice. She, too, had cultivated the 
 rich voice with which Nature had endowed him ; 
 and it was his mother who taught him not only 
 to sing, but to dance. In more manly accom- 
 plishments Ferdinand could not have found a 
 more skilful instructor than his father, a con- 
 summate sportsman, and who, like all his ances- 
 tors, was remarkable for his finished horseman- 
 ship, and the certainty of his aim. Under a 
 roof, too, whose inmates were distinguished for 
 their sincere piety and unaffected virtue, the 
 higher duties of existence were not forgotten; 
 and Ferdinand Armine was early and ever 
 taught to be sincere, dutiful, charitable, and 
 just; and to have a deep sense of the great 
 account hereafter to be delivered to his Creator. 
 The very foibles of his parents which he imbibed 
 tended to the maintenance of his magnanimity. 
 His illustrious lineage was early impressed upon 
 him, and inasmuch as little now was left to them
 
 48 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 but their honour, so was it doubly incumbent 
 upon him to preserve that chief treasure, of 
 which fortune could not deprive them, un- 
 sullied. 
 
 This much of the education of Ferdinand 
 Armine. With great gifts of nature, with 
 lively and highly cultivated talents, and a most 
 affectionate and disciplined temper, he was 
 adored by the friends, who nevertheless had too 
 much sense to spoil him. But for his character, 
 what was that ? Perhaps, with all their anxiety 
 and all their care, and all their apparent oppor- 
 tunities for observation, the parents and the 
 tutor are rarely skilful in discovering the cha- 
 racter of their child or charge. Custom blunts 
 the fineness of psychological study : those with 
 whom we have lived long and early, are apt to 
 blend our essential and our accidental qualities 
 in one bewildering association. The consequences 
 of education and of nature are not sufficiently 
 discriminated. Nor is it, indeed, marvellous, 
 that for a long time temperament should be
 
 A LOVE STORY. 49 
 
 disguised and even stifled by education ; for it 
 is, as it were, a contest between a child and a 
 man. 
 
 There were moments when Ferdinand Armine 
 loved to be alone, when he could fly from all the 
 fondness of his friends, and roam in solitude 
 amid the wild and desolate pleasure-grounds, or 
 wander for hours in the halls and galleries of the 
 castle, gazing on the pictures of his ancestors. 
 He ever experienced a strange satisfaction in 
 beholding the portrait of his grandfather. He 
 would stand sometimes abstracted for many 
 minutes before the portrait of Sir Ferdinand, in 
 the gallery, painted by Reynolds, before his 
 grandfather left England, and which the child 
 already singularly resembled. But was there 
 any other resemblance between them than form 
 and feature? Did the fiery imagination and the 
 terrible passions of that extraordinary man lurk 
 in the innocent heart and the placid mien of his 
 young descendant ? Awful secrets these, which 
 this history shall unfold. No matter now ! 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 Behold, he is a light-hearted and airy child ! 
 Thought passes over his brow like a cloud in a 
 summer sky, or the shadow of a bird over the 
 sunshiny earth; and he skims away from the 
 silent hall and his momentary reverie, to fly a 
 kite or chase a butterfly !
 
 A LOVE STORY. 51 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A DOMESTIC SCENE. 
 
 Years glided away without any remarkable 
 incidents in the life of young Ferdinand. He 
 seldom quitted home, except as companion to 
 Glastonbury in his pedestrian excursions, when 
 he witnessed a different kind of life to that 
 displayed in an annual visit which he paid to 
 Grandison. The boy amused his grandfather, 
 with whom, therefore, he became a favourite. 
 The old Lord, indeed, would have had no 
 objection to his grandson passing half the year 
 with him ; and he always returned home with a 
 benediction, a letter full of his praises, and a 
 ten-pound note. Lady Armine was quite 
 delighted with these symptoms of affection on 
 the part of her father towards her child, and 
 
 n 2 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF iLUNCHS
 
 52 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 augured from them the most important future 
 results. But Sir Ratcliffe, who was not blessed 
 with so sanguine a temperament as his amiable 
 lady, and who, unbiassed by blood, was perhaps 
 better qualified to form an opinion of the cha- 
 racter of his father-in-law, never shared her 
 transports, and seldom omitted an opportunity 
 of restraining them. 
 
 "It is all very well, my dear," he would 
 observe, " for Ferdinand to visit his relations. 
 Lord Grandison is his grandfather. It is very 
 proper that he should visit his grandfather. I 
 like him to be seen at Grandison. That is all 
 very right. Grandison is a first-rate establish- 
 ment, where he is certain of meeting persons of 
 his own class, with whom circumstances unhap- 
 pily " — and here Sir Ratcliffe sighed — " debar 
 him from mixing ; and your father, Constance, 
 is a very good sort of man. I like your father? 
 Constance, you know, very much. No person 
 ever could be more courteous to me, than your 
 father has ever been. I have no complaints to
 
 A LOVE STORY. 53 
 
 make of your father, Constance ; or your brother, 
 or indeed of any member of your family. I 
 like them all ; I like them very much. Persons 
 more kind, or more thoroughly bred, I am sure 
 I never knew. And I think they like us — I do, 
 indeed — I think they like us very much. They 
 appear to me to be always really glad to see us, 
 and to be unaffectedly sorry when we quit them. 
 I am sure I should be very happy if it were in 
 my power to return their hospitality, and wel- 
 come them at Armine : but it is useless to think 
 of that. God only knows whether we shall be 
 able to remain here ourselves. All I want to 
 make you feel, my love, is, that if you are 
 building any castle in that little brain of yours 
 on the ground of expectations from Grandison, 
 trust me, you will be disappointed, my dear, 
 you will indeed. ,, 
 
 " But, my love—" 
 
 " If your father die to-morrow, my dear, he 
 will not leave us a shilling. And who can 
 complain ? I cannot. He has always been
 
 54 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 very frank. I remember when we were going 
 to marry, and I was obliged to talk to him about 
 your portion — I remember it as if it were only 
 yesterday — I remember his saying, with the 
 most flattering smile in the world, ' I wish the 
 ofo,000, Sir RatclifFe, were £ 50,000, for your 
 sake; particularly, as it never will be in my 
 power to increase it.' " 
 
 " But, my dear RatclifFe, surely he may do 
 something for his favourite, Ferdinand?" 
 
 " My dear Constance — there you are again ! 
 Why favourite ? I hate the very word. Your 
 father is a good-natured man, a very good- 
 natured man — your father is one of the best- 
 natured men I ever was acquainted with. He 
 has not a single care in the world, and he thinks 
 nobody else has ; and what is more, my dear, 
 nobody ever could persuade him that any body 
 else has. He has no idea of our situation ; he 
 never could form an idea of our situation. If I 
 chose to attempt to make him understand it, he 
 would listen with the greatest politeness, shrug
 
 A LOVE STORY. 55 
 
 his shoulders at the end of the story, tell me to 
 keep up my spirits, and order another bottle of 
 Madeira, in order that he might illustrate his 
 precept by practice. He is a good-natured 
 selfish man. He likes us to visit him, because 
 you are gay and agreeable, and because I never 
 asked a favour of him in the whole course of 
 our acquaintance : he likes Ferdinand to visit 
 him, because he is a handsome fine-spirited boy, 
 and his friends congratulate him on having such 
 a grandson. And so Ferdinand is his favourite ; 
 and next year I should not be surprised were he 
 to give him a pony ; and perhaps, if he die, he 
 will leave him fifty guineas, to buy a gold 
 watch. " 
 
 " Well, I dare say you are right, Ratcliffe; 
 but still nothing that you can say, will ever 
 persuade me that Ferdinand is not papa's 
 decided favourite." 
 
 w Well ! we shall soon see what this favour is 
 worth," retorted Sir Ratcliffe, rather bitterly. 
 " Regularly every visit for the last three years,
 
 56 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 your father has asked me what I intended to do 
 with Ferdinand. I said to him last year, more 
 than I thought I ever could say to any one — I 
 told him that Ferdinand was now fifteen, and 
 that I wished to get him a commission ; but 
 that I had no influence to get him a commission, 
 and no money to pay for it, if it were offered me. 
 I think that was pretty plain ; and I have been 
 surprised ever since, that I ever could have 
 placed myself in such a degrading position as to 
 say so much." 
 
 w Degrading, my dear Ratcliffe, " said his wife. 
 
 £ I felt it as such ; and such I still feel it." 
 
 At this moment Glastonbury, who was stand- 
 ing at the other end of the room, examining a 
 large folio, and who had evidently been very 
 uneasy during the whole conversation, attempted 
 to quit the room. 
 
 " My dear Glastonbury," said Sir Ratcliffe, 
 with a forced smile, " you are alarmed at our 
 domestic broils. Pray, do not leave the room. 
 You know we have no secrets from you."
 
 A LOVE STORY. 57 
 
 " No, indeed, do not go, Mr. Glastonbury, 1 ' 
 added Lady Armine : " and if indeed there be 
 a domestic broil," — and here she rose and kissed 
 her husband, — " at any rate witness our recon- 
 ciliation. " 
 
 Sir Ratcliffe smiled, and returned his wife'^ 
 embrace with much feeling. 
 
 " My own Constance," he said, " you are 
 the dearest wife in the world ; and if I ever feel 
 unhappy, believe me it is only because I do 
 not see you in the position to which you are 
 entitled. 1 ' 
 
 " I know no fortune to be compared to your 
 love, Ratcliffe ; and as for our child, nothing 
 will ever persuade me that all will not go right, 
 and that he will not restore the fortunes of the 
 family." 
 
 " Amen ! n said Glastonbury, closing the 
 book with a reverberating sound. " Nor indeed 
 can I believe that Providence will ever desert a 
 great and pious line ! * 
 
 n 3
 
 58 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 CONTAINING ANOTHER DOMESTIC SCENE. 
 
 Lady Armine and Glastonbury were both 
 too much interested in the welfare of Sir Rat- 
 cliffe, not to observe with deep concern that a 
 great, although gradual, change had occurred in 
 his character during the last five years. He had 
 become moody and querulous, occasionally even 
 irritable. His constitutional melancholy, long 
 diverted by the influence of a vigorous youth, 
 the society of a charming woman, and the inte- 
 resting feelings of a father, began to re-assert its 
 ancient and essential sway, and at times even to 
 deepen into gloom. Sometimes whole days 
 elapsed without his ever indulging in conver- 
 sation ; his nights, once tranquil, were now 
 remarkable for their restlessness; his wife was
 
 A LOVE STORY. 59 
 
 alarmed at the sighs and agitation of his dreams. 
 He quite abandoned also his field sports, and 
 none of those innocent sources of amusement, in 
 which it was once his boast their retirement was 
 so rich, now interested him. In vain Lady 
 Armine sought his society in her walks, or con- 
 sulted him about her flowers. His frigid and 
 monosyllabic replies discouraged all her efforts. 
 No longer did he lean over her easel, or call for 
 a repetition of his favourite song. At times 
 these dark fits passed away, and if not cheerful, 
 he was at least serene. But, on the whole, he 
 was an altered man ; and his wife could no 
 longer resist the miserable conviction, that he 
 was an unhappy one. 
 
 She, however, was at least spared the mortifi- 
 cation, the bitterest that a wife can experience, 
 of feeling that this change in his conduct was 
 occasioned by any indifference towards her; for, 
 averse as Sir Ratcliffe was to converse on a sub- 
 ject so hopeless and ungrateful as the state of
 
 62 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 his fortune, still there were times in which he 
 could not refrain from communicating; to the 
 partner of his bosom all the causes of his misery, 
 and these, indeed, too truly had she divined. 
 
 "Alas!" she would sometimes say, as she 
 tried to compose his restless pillow ; " what is 
 this pride, to which you men sacrifice every 
 thing ? For me, who am a woman, love is 
 sufficient. Oh, my Ratcliffe, why do you not 
 feel like your Constance? What if these estates 
 be sold, still we are Armines ! and still our dear 
 Ferdinand is spared to us I Believe me, love, 
 that if deference to your feelings has prompted 
 my silence, I have long felt that it would be 
 wiser for us at once to meet a necessary evil. 
 For God's sake, put an end to the tortures of 
 this life, which is destroying us both. Poverty, 
 absolute poverty, with you and with your love, 
 I can meet even with cheerfulness ; but indeed, 
 my Ratcliffe, I can bear our present life no 
 longer ; I shall die, if you be unhappy. And
 
 A LOVE STORY. 61 
 
 oh ! dearest Ratcliffe, if that were to happen, 
 which sometimes I fear has happened, if you 
 were no longer to love me " 
 
 But here Sir Ratcliffe assured her of the 
 reverse. 
 
 u Only think," she would continue, " if when 
 we married we had voluntarily done that which 
 we may now be forced to do, we really should 
 have been almost rich people \ at least we should 
 have had quite enough to live in ease, and even 
 elegance. And now we owe thousands to that 
 horrible Bagster, who, I am sure, cheated 
 your father out of house and home, and, 
 I dare say, after all, wants to buy Armine for 
 himself.'" 
 
 " He buy Armine ! An attorney buy Armine ! 
 Never, Constance, never — I will be buried in its 
 ruins first. There is no sacrifice that I would 
 not sooner make — " 
 
 " But, dearest love, suppose we sell it to some 
 one else, and suppose after paying every thing we 
 have thirty thousand pounds left. How well we
 
 62 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 could live abroad on the interest of thirty thou- 
 sand pounds ! " 
 
 " There would not be thirty thousand pounds 
 left now ! " 
 
 " Well, five-and-twenty, or even twenty. I 
 could manage on twenty. And then we could 
 buy a commission for dear Ferdinand." 
 
 «* But to leave our child ! " 
 
 " Could not he go into the Spanish service. 
 Perhaps you could get a commission in the 
 Spanish Guards for nothing. They must 
 remember you there. And such a name as 
 Armine ! I have no doubt that the King would 
 be quite proud to have another Armine in his 
 guard. And then we could live at Madrid ; and 
 that would be so delightful ; because you speak 
 Spanish so beautifully, and I could learn it very 
 quickly. I am very quick at learning languages. 
 I am, indeed." 
 
 " I think you are very quick at every thing, 
 dear Constance. I am sure you are really a 
 treasure of a wife; I have cause every hour
 
 A LOVE STORY. 63 
 
 to bless you; and if it were not for my 
 own sake, I should say that I wished you had 
 made a happier marriage.'"' 
 
 " Oh ! do not say that, Ratcliffe ; say any- 
 thing but that, Ratcliffe. If you love me, I 
 am the happiest woman that ever lived. Be 
 sure always of that." 
 
 " I wonder if they do remember me at 
 Madrid ! " 
 
 " To be sure they do. How could they for- 
 get you — how could they forget my Ratcliffe ? 
 I dare say, you go to this day by the name of 
 the handsome Englishman." 
 
 " Poh ! I remember when I left England 
 before — I had no wife then, no child, but I 
 remembered who I was — and when I thought I 
 was the last of our race, and that I was in all 
 probability going to spill the little blood that 
 was spared of us in a foreign soil — oh, Constance, 
 I do not think I ever could forget the agony of 
 that moment. Had it been for England, I 
 would have met my fate without a pang. No !
 
 46 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 Constance, I am an Englishman — I am proud of 
 being an Englishman. My fathers helped to 
 make this country what it is ; no one can deny 
 that ; and no consideration in the world shall 
 ever induce me again to quit this island. " 
 
 " But suppose we do not quit England. Sup- 
 pose we buy a small estate, and live at home." 
 
 " A small estate at home ! A small, new 
 estate ! Bought of a Mr. Hopkins, a great 
 tallow-chandler, or some stock-jobber about to 
 make a new flight from a Lodge to a Park. Oh 
 no ! that would be too degrading." 
 
 " But suppose we keep one of our own 
 manors ? " 
 
 " And be reminded every instant of every day 
 of those we have lost ; and hear of the won- 
 derful improvements of our successors. I should 
 go mad." 
 
 " But suppose we live in London ? " 
 
 " Where ? » 
 
 " I am sure I do not know ; but I should think 
 we might get a nice little house somewhere."
 
 A LOVE STORY. 65 
 
 " In a suburb ! a fitting lodgment for Lady 
 Armine. No ! at any rate we will have no 
 witnesses to our fall." 
 
 " But could not we try some place near my 
 father's?" 
 
 " And be patronised by the great family with 
 whom I had the good fortune of being connected. 
 No ! my dear Constance, I like your father very 
 well, but I could not stand his eleemosynary 
 haunches of venison, and great baskets of apples 
 and cream cheeses sent with the housekeeper's 
 duty." 
 
 " But what shall we do, dear Ratcliffe ? " 
 
 " My love, there is no resisting fate. We 
 must live or die at Armine, even if we 
 starve." 
 
 " Perhaps something will turn up. I dreamt 
 the other night that dear Ferdinand married an 
 heiress. Suppose he were? What do you 
 think ? " 
 
 " Why, even then, that he would not be as 
 lucky as his father. Good night, love ! "
 
 66 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 CONTAINING AN UNEXPECTED VISIT TO LONDON, 
 AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 
 
 The day after the conversation in the library 
 to which Glastonbury had been an unwilling 
 listener, he informed his friends that it was 
 necessary for him to visit the metropolis ; and as 
 young Ferdinand had never yet seen London, he 
 proposed that he should accompany him. Sir 
 Ratcliffe and Lady Armine cheerfully assented 
 to this proposition ; and as for Ferdinand, it is 
 difficult to describe the delight which the antici- 
 pation of his visit occasioned him. The three 
 days that were to elapse before his departure 
 did not seem sufficient to ensure the complete 
 packing of his portmanteau ; and his excited 
 manner, the rapidity of his conversation, and
 
 A LOVE STORY. 67 
 
 the restlessness of his movements, were very 
 diverting. 
 
 " Mamma ! Is London twenty times bigger 
 than Nottingham ? How big is it then ? Shall 
 we travel all night ? What o'clock is it now ? 
 I wonder if Thursday will ever come ? I think 
 I shall go to bed early, to finish the day sooner. 
 Do you think my cap is good enough to travel 
 in ? I shall buy a hat in London. I shall get 
 up early the very first morning, and buy a hat. 
 Do you think my uncle is in London ? I wish 
 Augustus were not at Eton, perhaps he would 
 be there. I wonder if Mr. Glastonbury will 
 take me to see St. Paul's ! I wonder if he will 
 take me to the play. Yd give anything to go to 
 the play. I should like to go to the play and 
 St. Paul's ! Mamma ! do you think six shirts 
 are enough? I think I had better take eight. 
 I am sure there must be room for eight. What 
 fun it will be dining on the road ! " 
 
 It did indeed seem that Thursday never 
 would come; yet it came at last. The travellers
 
 68 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 were obliged to rise before the sun, and drive 
 over to Nottingham to meet their coach ; so they 
 bid their adieus the previous eve. As for 
 Ferdinand, so fearful was he of losing the coach, 
 that he scarcely slept, and was never convinced 
 that he was really in time, until he found him- 
 self planted in breathless agitation outside of the 
 Dart light post coach. It was the first time in 
 his life that he had ever travelled outside of a 
 coach. He felt all the excitement of expanding 
 experience and advancing manhood. They 
 whirled along : at the end of every stage, 
 Ferdinand followed the example of his fellow- 
 travellers and dismounted, and then with 
 sparkling eyes hurried to Glastonbury, who was 
 inside, to inquire how he sped. " Capital 
 travelling, isn't it, Sir? Did the ten miles 
 within the hour. You have no idea what a 
 fellow our coachman is ; and the guard, such a 
 fellow our guard ! — Don't wait here a moment. 
 Can I get anything for you ? We dine at 
 Mill-field. What fun!"
 
 A LOVE STORY. 69 
 
 Away whirled the dashing Dart over the rich 
 plains of cur merry midland ; a quick and 
 dazzling vision of golden corn fields and lawny 
 pasture land ; farm houses embowered in orchards 
 and hamlets shaded by the straggling members 
 of some vast and ancient forest. Then rose in 
 the distance the dim blue towers or the graceful 
 spire of some old cathedral, and soon the 
 spreading causeways announce their approach 
 to some provincial capital. The coachman 
 flanks his leaders, who break into a gallop ; the 
 guard sounds his triumphant bugle ; the coach 
 bounds over the noble bridge that spans a stream 
 covered with craft ; public buildings, guildhalls, 
 and county gaols, rise on each side. Rattling 
 through many an inferior way, they at length 
 emerge into the High Street, the observed of all 
 observers, and mine host of the Red Lion or the 
 White Hart, followed by all his waiters, advances 
 from his portal with a smile to receive the 
 ic gentlemen passengers."
 
 70 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 " The coach stops here half an hour, gentle- 
 men : dinner quite ready ! " 
 
 'Tis a delightful sound. And what a dinner ! 
 What a profusion of substantial delicacies ! 
 What mighty and Iris-tinted rounds of beef! 
 What vast and marble-veined ribs ! What 
 gelatinous veal pies ! What colossal hams ! 
 Those are evidently prize cheeses ! And how 
 invigorating is the perfume of those various and 
 variegated pickles ! Then the bustle emulating 
 the plenty ; the ringing of bells, the clash of 
 thoroughfare, the summoning of ubiquitous 
 waiters, and the all-pervading feeling of omni- 
 potence, from the guests, who order what they 
 please, to the landlord, who can produce and 
 execute everything they can desire. 'Tis a 
 wondrous sight ! Why should a man go and 
 see the pyramids and cross the desert, when he 
 has not beheld York Minster or travelled on the 
 Road! 
 
 Our little Ferdinand amid all this noveltv
 
 A LOVE STORY. 71 
 
 heartily enjoyed himself, and did ample justice 
 to mine host's good cheer. They were soon 
 again whirling along the road, but at sunset, 
 Ferdinand, at the instance of Glastonbury, 
 availed himself of his inside place, and, wearied 
 by the air and the excitement of the day, he 
 soon fell soundly asleep. 
 
 Several hours had elapsed when awaking from 
 a confused dream, in which Armine and all he 
 had lately seen were blended together, he found 
 his fellow-travellers slumbering, and the mail 
 dashing along through the illuminated streets of 
 a great city. The streets were thickly thronged. 
 Ferdinand stared at the magnificence of the shops 
 blazing with lights, and the multitude of men 
 and vehicles moving in all directions. The 
 guard sounded his bugle with treble energy, 
 and the coach suddenly turned through an 
 arched entrance into the court-yard of an old- 
 fashioned inn. His fellow-passengers started, 
 and rubbed their eyes. 

 
 72 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 M So ! we have arrived, I suppose ;" grumbled 
 one of these gentlemen, taking off his night-cap, 
 
 " Yes, gentlemen, I am happy to say our 
 journey is finished, " said a more polite voice ; 
 " and a very pleasant one I have found it. 
 Porter, have the goodness to call me a coach." 
 
 " And one for me," added the gruff voice. 
 
 M Mr. Glastonbury,*" whispered the awe- 
 struck Ferdinand, " is this London ? rt 
 
 " This is London : but we have yet two or 
 three miles to go before we reach our quarters. 
 I think we had better alight and look after our 
 luggage. Gentlemen, good evening ! " 
 
 It was ten o'clock. Mr. Glastonbury hailed a 
 coach, in which, having safely deposited their 
 portmanteaus, he and Ferdinand entered : but 
 our young friend was so entirely overcome by 
 his feelings and the genius of the place, that he 
 was quite unable to make an observation. Each 
 minute the streets seemed to grow more spacious 
 and more brilliant, and the multitude more dense
 
 A LOVE STORY. 73 
 
 and more excited. Beautiful buildings, too, 
 rose before him ; palaces, and churches, and 
 streets, and squares of imposing architecture ; to 
 his inexperienced eye and unsophisticated spirit, 
 their route appeared a never-ending triumph. 
 To the hackney-coachman, however, who had 
 no imagination, and who was quite satiated with 
 metropolitan experience, it only appeared that 
 he had had an exceeding good fare, and that he 
 was jogging up from Bishopsgate Street to 
 Charing Cross. 
 
 When Jarvis, therefore, had safely deposited 
 his charge at Morley's Hotel, in Cockspur 
 Street, and had extorted from them an extra 
 shilling, in consideration of their evident rusti- 
 cation, he bent his course towards the Opera 
 House, for clouds were gathering, and, with the 
 favour of Providence, there seemed a chance 
 about midnight of picking up some helpless 
 beau, or desperate cabless dandy, the choicest 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 victim in a midnight shower of these public- 
 conveyancers. 
 
 The coffee-room at Morley's was a new scene 
 of amusement to Ferdinand, and he watched 
 with great diversion the two evening papers 
 portioned out among twelve eager quidnuncs, 
 and the evident anxiety which they endured, 
 and the nice diplomacies to which they resorted 
 to obtain the envied journals. The entrance 
 of our two travellers, so alarmingly increasing 
 the demand over the supply, at first seemed to 
 attract considerable and not very friendly notice ; 
 but when a malignant half-pay officer, in order 
 to revenge himself for the restless watchfulness 
 of his neighbour, a very political doctor of 
 divinity, offered the journal, which he had long 
 finished, to Glastonbury, and it was declined, 
 the general alarm visibly diminished. Poor 
 Mr. Glastonbury had never looked into a news- 
 paper in his life, save the County Chronicle, to 
 which he occasionally contributed a communi-
 
 A LOVE STORY. 75 
 
 cation giving an account of the digging up of 
 some old coins, signed Antiquarius ; or of the 
 exhumation of some fossil remains, to which he 
 more boldly appended his initials. 
 
 In spite of the strange clatter in the streets, 
 Ferdinand slept well, and the next morning, 
 after an early breakfast, himself and his fellow- 
 traveller set out on their peregrinations. Young 
 and sanguine, full of health and enjoyment, 
 innocent and happy, it was with difficulty that 
 Ferdinand could restrain his spirits, as he 
 mingled in the bustle of the streets. It was a 
 bright sunny morning, and, although the end of 
 June, the town was yet quite full. 
 
 "Is this Charing- Cross, sir ? — I wonder if 
 we shall ever be able to get over. — Is this the 
 fullest part of the town, sir ? — What a fine day, 
 sir ? — How lucky we are in the weather ? — We 
 are lucky in everything ! — Whose house is 
 that ? — Northumberland House ! — Is it the 
 Duke of Northumberland's ? — Does he live 
 
 e 2
 
 76 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 there ?How I should like to see it! — Is it 
 very fine ? — Who is that ? — What is this ?— 
 The Admiralty ; oh I let me see, the Admiralty ! 
 — The Horse Guards. — Oh ! where, where ? — 
 Let us set our watches by the Horse Guards. 
 The guard of our coach always sets his watch 
 by the Horse Guards. — Mr. Glastonbury, 
 which is the best clock the Horse Guards or 
 St. Paul's? — Is that the Treasury? Can we 
 go in ? — That is Downing Street, is it ? — I 
 never heard of Downing Street. — What do they 
 do in Downing Street ? — Is this Charing- 
 Cross still, or is it Parliament Street ? — Where 
 does Charing-Cross end, and where does Par- 
 liament Street begin ? — By Jove, I see West- 
 minster Abbey ! " 
 
 After visiting Westminster Abbey, and the 
 two Houses of Parliament, Mr. Glastonbury, 
 looking at his watch, said it was now time to 
 call upon a friend of his who lived in St. 
 James's Square. This was the nobleman with 
 whom early in life Glastonbury had been
 
 A LOVE STORY. 77 
 
 connected, and with whom and whose family he 
 had become so great a favourite, that, notwith- 
 standing his retired life, they had never 
 permitted the connection entirely to subside. 
 During the very few visits which he had made 
 to the metropolis, he always called in St. 
 James's Square, and his reception always as- 
 sured him that his remembrance imparted 
 pleasure. 
 
 When Glastonbury sent up his name he was 
 instantly admitted, and ushered up stairs. The 
 room was very full, but it consisted only of 
 a family party. The old Duchess, who was a 
 most interesting personage, with fine grey hair, 
 a clear blue eye, and a most soft voice, was 
 surrounded by her grandchildren, who were at 
 home for the Midsummer holidays, and who had 
 gathered together at her house this morning to 
 consult upon amusements. Among them was her 
 grandson, the heir presumptive of the house, a 
 youth of the age of Ferdinand, and of a very
 
 78 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 prepossessing appearance. It was difficult to 
 meet a more amiable and agreeable family, and 
 nothing could exceed the kindness with which 
 they all welcomed Glastonbury. The duke 
 himself soon appeared in his morning gown. 
 " My dear, dear Glastonbury ," said the kind- 
 hearted old gentleman, " I heard you were here, 
 and I would come. Caroline will not let me enter 
 her rooms in these rags, but to-day I am to be 
 excused. This shall be a holiday for us all. 
 Why, man, you bury yourself alive ! M 
 
 " Mr. Armine, 1 " said the Duchess, pointing to 
 Ferdinand. 
 
 " Mr. Armine, how do you do ? Your 
 grandfather and I were very well ac- 
 quainted. I am proud and glad to know his 
 grandson. I hope your father, Sir Ratcliffe, and 
 Lady Armine are quite well. Well, my dear 
 Glastonbury, I hope you have come to stay a 
 long, long time. You must dine with us every 
 clay, you must indeed. You know we are very
 
 A LOVE STORY. 79 
 
 old-fashioned people ; we do not go much into 
 the world ; so you will find us at home every 
 day ; and we will do what we can to amuse 
 your young friend. Why! I should think he 
 was about the same age as Digby ? Is he at 
 Eton ? His grandfather was ! I never shall 
 forget the time he cut off old Barnard's pig- 
 tail. He was a wonderful man — Poor Sir Fer- 
 dinand ! — He was indeed ! " 
 
 While his Grace and Glastonbury maintained 
 their conversation, Ferdinand conducted himself 
 with so much spirit and propriety towards the 
 rest of the party, and gave them such a lively 
 and graceful narrative or all his travels up to 
 town, and the wonders he had already witnessed, 
 that they were quite delighted with him ; and, 
 in short, from this moment, during his visit to 
 London, he was scarcely ever out of their 
 society, and every day became a greater 
 favourite with them. His letters to his mother, 
 for he wrote to her almost every day, recounted
 
 80 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 all their successful efforts for his amusement, 
 and it seemed that he passed his mornings in a 
 round of sight-seeing, and that he went to the 
 play every night of his life. Perhaps there 
 never existed a human being who at this 
 moment more thoroughly enjoyed life than 
 Ferdinand Armine. 
 
 In the meantime while he thought only of 
 amusement, Mr. Glastonbury was not inat- 
 tentive to his more important interests ; for the 
 truth is that this excellent man had introduced 
 him to the family only with the hope of 
 interesting the feelings of the Duke in his 
 behalf. His Grace was a man of a very gene- 
 rous disposition. He sympathised with the 
 recital of Glastonbury, as he detailed to him the 
 unfortunate situation of this youth, sprung from 
 so illustrious a lineage, and yet cut off by a 
 combination of unhappy circumstances from 
 almost all those natural sourees whence he might 
 have expected support and countenance. And
 
 A LOVE STORY. 81 
 
 when Glastonbury, seeing that the duke's heart 
 was moved, added that all he required for him, 
 Ferdinand, was a commission in the army, for 
 which his parents were prepared to advance 
 the money, his Grace instantly declared that 
 he would exert all his influence to obtain 
 their purpose. 
 
 Mr. Glastonbury was, therefore, more grati- 
 fied than surprised when, a few days after the 
 conversation which we have mentioned, his 
 noble friend informed him, with a smile, that 
 he believed all might be arranged, provided his 
 young charge could make it convenient to quit 
 England at once. A vacancy had unexpectedly 
 occurred in a regiment just ordered to Malta, 
 and an ensigncy had been promised to Ferdi- 
 nand Armine. Mr. Glastonbury gratefully 
 closed with the offer. He sacrificed a fourth 
 part of his moderate independence in the pur- 
 chase of the commission and the outfit of his 
 young friend, and had the supreme satisfaction, 
 
 e 3
 
 82 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 ere the third week of their visit was completed, of 
 forwarding a Gazette to Armine, containing the 
 appointment of Ferdinand Armine as Ensign in 
 the Royal Fusileers.
 
 A LOVE STORY. 83 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 a visit to Glastonbury's chamber. 
 
 It was arranged that Ferdinand should 
 join his regiment by the next Mediterranean 
 packet, which was not to quit Falmouth for a 
 fortnight. Glastonbury and himself, therefore, 
 lost no time in bidding adieu to their kind 
 friends in London, and hastening to Armine. 
 They arrived the day after the Gazette. 
 They found Sir Ratcliffe waiting for them at 
 the town, and the fond smile and cordial 
 embrace, with which he greeted Glastonbury, 
 more than repaid that good man for all his 
 exertions. There was, notwithstanding, a per- 
 ceptible degree of constraint both on the part of 
 the baronet and his former tutor. It was very 
 evident that Sir Ratcliffe had something on his
 
 84 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 mind, of which he wished to disburden himself; 
 and it was equally apparent that Glastonbury 
 was very unwilling to afford him an oppor- 
 tunity. Under these rather awkward circum- 
 stances, it was perhaps fortunate that Ferdi- 
 nand talked without ceasing, giving his father 
 an account of all he had seen, done, and heard, 
 and of all the friends he had made, from the 
 
 good Duke of to that capital fellow the 
 
 guard of the coach. 
 
 They were at the park gates : Lady Ar- 
 mine was there to meet them. The carriage 
 stopped ; Ferdinand jumped out and embraced 
 his mother. She kissed him, and ran forward 
 and extended both her hands to Mr. Glaston- 
 bury. " Deeds, not words, must show our 
 feelings," she said, and the tears glittered in her 
 beautiful eyes ; Glastonbury, with a blush, 
 pressed her hand to his lips. After dinner, 
 during which Ferdinand recounted all his 
 adventures, Lady Armine invited him, when 
 she rose, to walk with her in the garden. It
 
 A LOVE STORY. 85 
 
 was then, with an air of considerable confusion, 
 clearing his throat and filling his glass at the 
 same time, that Sir Ratcliffe said to his remain- 
 ing guest, . 
 
 " My dear Glastonbury, you cannot suppose 
 that I believe that the days of magic have re- 
 turned. This commission — both Constance and 
 myself feel, that is, we are certain — that you are 
 at the bottom of it all. The commission is pur- 
 chased. I could not expect the Duke, deeply as 
 I feel his generous kindness, to purchase a com- 
 mission for my son : I could not permit it. No ! 
 Glastonbury, 11 and here Sir Ratcliffe became 
 more animated, " you could not permit it; my 
 honour is safe in your hands ? " Sir Ratcliffe 
 paused for a reply. 
 
 " On that score my conscience is very clear,' 1 
 replied Glastonbury. 
 
 " It is then, it must be then as I suspect," re- 
 joined Sir Ratcliffe. " I am your debtor for 
 this great service. 11 
 
 "It is easy to count your obligations to me,' 1
 
 86 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 said Glastonbury, " but mine to you and yours 
 are incalculable." 
 
 " My dear Glastonbury,'" said Sir Ratcliffe, 
 pushing his glass away, as he rose from his seat 
 and walked up and down the room, " I may be 
 proud, but I have no pride for you, I owe you 
 too much — indeed, my dear friend, there is noth- 
 ing that I would not accept from you, were it in 
 your power to grant what you would desire. It 
 is not pride, my dear Glastonbury, do not mistake 
 me, it is not pride that prompts this explanation 
 — but, but, had I your command of language, I 
 would explain myself more readily — but the 
 truth is, I, I — I cannot permit that you should 
 suffer for us, Glastonbury, I cannot indeed. 1 ' 
 
 Mr. Glastonbury looked at Sir Ratcliffe stea- 
 dily ; then rising from his seat, he took the 
 Baronet's arm, and without saying a word walked 
 slowly towards the gates of the castle where he 
 lodged, and which we have before described. 
 When he had reached the steps of the tower, 
 he withdrew his arm, and saying, " let me be
 
 A LOVE STORY. 87 
 
 pioneer," invited Sir Ratcliffe to follow him. 
 They accordingly entered his chamber. 
 
 It was a small room lined with shelves of books, 
 except in one spot, where was suspended a por- 
 trait of Lady Barbara, which she had bequeathed 
 him in her will. The floor was covered with so 
 many boxes and cases, that it was not very easy 
 to steer a course when you had entered. Glas- 
 tonbury, however, beckoned to his companion to 
 seat himself in one of his two chairs, while he 
 unlocked a small cabinet, from a drawer of 
 which he brought forth a paper. 
 
 " It is my will," said Glastonbury, handing it 
 to Sir Ratcliffe, who laid it down on the table. 
 
 fc Nay, I wish you, my dear friend, to peruse 
 it, for it concerns yourself." 
 
 " I would rather learn its contents from your- 
 self, if you positively desire me, 1 ' replied Sir Rat- 
 cliffe. 
 
 " I have left every thing to our child," 
 said Glastonbury ; for thus, when speaking to 
 the father alone, he would often style the son. 
 
 " May it be long before he enjoys the bequest,"
 
 88 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 said Sir Ratcliffe, brushing away a tear, " long, 
 very long." 
 
 " As the Almighty pleases/' said Glastonbury, 
 crossing himself with great devotion. " But liv- 
 ing or dead, I look upon all as Ferdinand's, and 
 hold myself but the steward of his inheritance, 
 which I will never abuse." 
 
 " Oh ! Glastonbury, no more of this, I pray ; 
 you have wasted a precious life upon our forlorn 
 race. Alas ! how often and how keenly do I feel, 
 that had it not been for the name of Armine, 
 your great talents and goodness might have gain- 
 ed for you an enviable portion of earthly felicity ; 
 yes, Glastonbury, you have sacrificed yourself 
 to us. 
 
 " Would that I could !" said the old man with 
 brightening eyes and an unaccustomed energy 
 of manner. " Would that I could ! would 
 that any act of mine — I care not what — could 
 revive the fortunes of the house of Armine. 
 Honoured for ever be the name, which with 
 me is associated with all that is great and glorious 
 in man, and (here his voice faltered, and he turn-
 
 A LOVE STORY. 89 
 
 ed away his face,) exquisite and enchanting in 
 woman ! 
 
 "No, Ratcliffe," he resumed, "by the memory 
 of one I cannot name — by that blessed and 
 saintly being from whom you derive your life, 
 you will not, you cannot deny this last favour I 
 ask, I entreat, I supplicate you to accord me — 
 me, who have ever eaten of your bread, and 
 whom your roof hath ever shrouded l n 
 
 " My friend, I cannot speak,'" said Sir Rat- 
 cliffe, throwing himself back in the chair, and 
 covering his face with his right hand; u I know 
 not what to say ; I know not what to feel." 
 
 Glastonbury advanced, and gently took his 
 other hand. " Dear Sir Ratcliffe," he observed, 
 in his usual calm, sweet voice, " if I have erred 
 you will pardon me. I did believe that, after 
 my long and intimate connection with your house, 
 after having for nearly forty years sympathised 
 as deeply with all your fortunes as if, indeed, 
 your noble blood flowed in these old veins ; after 
 having been honoured on your side with a friend-
 
 90 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 ship which has been the consolation and charm 
 of my existence — indeed, too great a blessing, I 
 did believe, more especially when I reminded my- 
 self of the unrestrained manner in which I had 
 availed myself of the advantages of that friend- 
 ship, I did believe — actuated by feelings which 
 perhaps I cannot describe, and thoughts to which 
 I cannot now give utterance — that I might ven- 
 ture, without offence, upon this slight service : 
 Ay, that the offering might be made in the 
 spirit of most respectful affection, and not alto- 
 gether be devoid of favour in your sight." 
 
 " Excellent, kind-hearted man ! " said Sir 
 Ratcliffe, pressing the hand of Glastonbury in 
 his own ; " I accept your offering in the spirit 
 of perfect love. Believe me, dearest friend, it 
 was no feeling of false pride that for a moment 
 influenced me ; I only felt — " 
 
 " That, in venturing upon this humble ser- 
 vice, I deprived myself of some portion of my 
 means of livelihood : you have mistaken. When 
 I cast my lot at Armine, I sank a portion of my
 
 A LOVE STOKY. 91 
 
 capital on my life ; so slender are my wants here, 
 and so little does your dear lady permit me to de- 
 sire, that, believe me, 1 have never yet expended 
 upon myself this apportioned income ; and, as 
 for the rest, it is, as you have seen, destined for 
 our Ferdinand. Yet, a little time and Adrian 
 Glastonbury must be gathered to his fathers. 
 Why, then, deprive him of the greatest gratifi- 
 cation of his remaining years ? the consciousness 
 that, to be really serviceable to those he loves, it 
 is not necessary for him to cease to exist. ,, 
 
 " May you never repent your devotion to our 
 house ! " said Sir Ratcliffe, rising from his seat. 
 " Time was we could give them who served us 
 something better than thanks ; but, at any rate, 
 these come from the heart.""
 
 92 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE LAST DAY AND THE LAST NIGHT. 
 
 In the mean time, the approaching departure 
 of Ferdinand was the great topic of interest at 
 Armine. It was settled that his father should 
 accompany him to Falmouth, where he was to 
 embark ; and that they should pay a visit 
 on their way to his grandfather, whose seat 
 was situate in the West of England. This sepa- 
 ration, now so near at hand, occasioned Lady 
 Armine the deepest affliction ; but she struggled 
 to suppress her emotion. Yet often, while appa- 
 rently busied with the common occupations of 
 the day, the tears trickled down her cheek ; 
 and often she rose from her restless seat, while 
 surrounded by those she loved, to seek the 
 solitude of her chamber, and indulge her over-
 
 A LOVE STORY. 93 
 
 whelming sorrow. Nor was, indeed, Ferdinand 
 less sensible of the bitterness of this separation, 
 With all the excitement of his new prospects, 
 and the feeling of approaching adventure and 
 fancied independence, so flattering to inexpe- 
 rienced youth, he could not forget that his had 
 been a very happy home. Nearly seventeen 
 years of an innocent existence had past, undis- 
 turbed by a single bad passion, and unsullied by 
 a single action that he could regret. The river 
 of his life had glided along, reflecting only a 
 cloudless sky. But if he, indeed, had been 
 dutiful and happy — if at this moment of severe 
 examination his conscience were indeed serene — 
 he could not but feel how much this enviable 
 state of mind was to be attributed to those who 
 had, as it were, imbued his life with love ; 
 whose never- varying affection had developed all 
 the kindly feelings of his nature, had anticipated 
 all his wants, and listened to all his wishes ; had 
 assisted him in difficulty, and guided him in 
 doubt ; had invited confidence by kindness, and
 
 94 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 deserved it by sympathy ; had robbed instruc- 
 tion of all its labour, and discipline of all its 
 harshness. 
 
 It was the last day ; on the morrow he was 
 to quit Armine. He strolled about among the 
 mouldering chambers of the castle, and a host 
 of thoughts and passions, like clouds in a stormy 
 sky, coursed over his hitherto serene and light- 
 hearted breast. In this first great struggle of 
 his soul, some symptoms of his latent nature 
 developed themselves, and, amid the rifts of the 
 mental tempest, occasionally he caught some 
 glimpses of self-knowledge. Nature, that had 
 endowed him with a fiery imagination and a 
 reckless courage, had tempered those dangerous, 
 and hitherto those undeveloped and untried gifts, 
 with a heart of infinite sensibility. Ferdinand 
 Armine was, in truth, a singular blending of the 
 daring and the soft ; and now, as he looked 
 around him, and thought of his illustrious 
 and fallen race, and especially of that extraor- 
 dinary man, of whose splendid and ruinous
 
 A LOVE STORY. 95 
 
 career — that man's own creation — the surround- 
 ing pile seemed a fitting emblem, he asked 
 himself if he had not inherited the energies 
 with the name of his grandsire, and if their 
 exertion might not yet revive the glories of his 
 line. He felt within him alike the power and 
 the will ; and while he indulged in magnificent 
 reveries of fame, and glory, and heroic action, 
 of which career, indeed, his approaching depar- 
 ture was to be the commencement, the associa- 
 tion of ideas led his recollection to those beings 
 from whom he was about to depart. His fancy 
 dropped like a bird of paradise in full wing, 
 tumbling exhausted in the skv : he thought 
 of his innocent and happy boyhood ; of his 
 father's thoughtful benevolence, his sweet mo- 
 ther's gentle assiduities, and Glastonbury's de- 
 votion; and he demanded aloud, in a voice of 
 misery, whether Fate could indeed supply a lot 
 more exquisite than to pass existence in these 
 calm and beauteous bowers with such beloved 
 companions.
 
 96 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 His name was called : it was his mother's 
 voice. He dashed away a desperate tear, and 
 came forth with a smiling face. His mother 
 and father were walking together at a little dis- 
 tance. He joined them. 
 
 " Ferdinand," said Lady Armine, with an air 
 of affected gaiety, " we have just been settling 
 that you are to send me a gazelle from Malta." 
 And in this strain, speaking of slight things, yet 
 all in some degree touching upon the mournful 
 incident of the morrow, did Lady Armine for 
 some time converse, as if she were all this time 
 trying the fortitude of her mind, and accustoming 
 herself to a catastrophe which she was resolved 
 to meet with fortitude. 
 
 While they were walking together, Glaston- 
 bury, who was hurrying from his rooms to the 
 Place, for the dinner hour was at hand, joined 
 them, and they entered their home together. It 
 was singular at dinner, too, in what excellent 
 spirits everybody determined to be. The dinner, 
 also, generally a very simple repast, was almost
 
 A LOVE STORY. 97 
 
 as elaborate as the demeanour of the guests, and, 
 although no one felt inclined to eat, consisted of 
 every dish and delicacy which was supposed to 
 be a favourite with Ferdinand. Sir RatclifFe, in 
 general so grave, was to-day quite joyous, and 
 produced a magnum of claret, which he had 
 himself discovered in the old cellars, and of 
 which even Glastonbury, an habitual water- 
 drinker, ventured to partake. As for Lady 
 Armine, she scarcely ever ceased talking ; she 
 found a jest in every sentence, and seemed only 
 uneasy when there was silence. Ferdinand, of 
 course, yielded himself to the apparent spirit of 
 the party ; and, had a stranger been present, he 
 could only have supposed that they were cele- 
 brating some anniversary of domestic joy. It 
 seemed rather a birth-day feast than the last 
 social meeting; of those who had lived together 
 so long, and loved each other so dearly. 
 
 But, as the evening drew on, their hearts 
 began to grow heavy, and every one was glad 
 
 vol. i. f
 
 98 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 that the early departure of the travellers on the 
 morrow was an excuse for speedily retiring. 
 
 " No adieus to-night ! " said Lady Armine 
 with a gay air, as she scarcely returned the 
 habitual embrace of her son. " We shall be all 
 up to-morrow." 
 
 So wishing his last good night, with a charged 
 heart and faltering tongue, Ferdinand Armine 
 took up his candle and retired to his chamber. 
 He could not refrain from exercising an unusual 
 scrutiny when he had entered the room. He 
 held up the light to the old accustomed walls, 
 and threw a parting glance of affection at the 
 curtains. There was the glass vase which his 
 mother had never omitted each day to fill with 
 fresh flowers, and the counterpane that was her 
 own handywork. He kissed it ; and, flinging off 
 his clothes, was glad when he was surrounded by 
 darkness, and buried in his bed. 
 
 There was a gentle tap at his door. He 
 started.
 
 A LOVE STORY. 99 
 
 " Are you in bed, my Ferdinand ?" inquired 
 his mother's voice. 
 
 Ere he could reply he heard the door open, 
 and he observed a tall white figure approaching 
 him. 
 
 Lady Armine, without speaking, knelt down 
 by his bedside, and took him in her arms. She 
 buried her face in his breast. He felt her tears 
 upon his heart. He could not move ; he could 
 not speak. At length he sobbed aloud. 
 
 " May our Father that is in heaven bless you, 
 my darling child ; may He guard over you ; 
 may He preserve you ! " Very weak was her 
 still solemn voice. " I would have spared you 
 this, my darling. For you, not for myself, have 
 I controlled my feelings. But I knew not the 
 strength of a mother's love. Alas ! what mother 
 has a child like thee ? Oh ! Ferdinand, my 
 first, my only-born — child of love, and joy, and 
 happiness, that never cost me a thought of sor- 
 row ; so kind, so gentle, and so dutiful ! — must 
 we, oh ! must we indeed part ? 
 
 f 2
 
 100 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 " It is too cruel,'" continued Lady Armine, 
 kissing with a thousand kisses her weeping child. 
 " What have I done to deserve such misery as 
 this ? Ferdinand, beloved Ferdinand, I shall die. v 
 
 " I will not go, mother, I will not go," wildly 
 exclaimed the boy, disengaging himself from her 
 embrace, and starting up in his bed. u Mother, 
 I cannot go. No. no, it never can be good to 
 leave a home like this." 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! my darling. What words 
 are these ? How unkind, how wicked is it of me 
 to say all this ! Would that I had not come ! 
 I only meant to listen at your door a minute, 
 and hear you move, perhaps to hear you speak — 
 and like a fool — how naughty of me! — never, 
 never shall I forgive myself — like a miserable 
 fool I entered." 
 
 k ' My own, own mother — what shall I say ? — 
 what shall I do ? I love you, mother, with all 
 my heart, and soul, and spirit's strength : I love 
 you, mother. There is no mother loved as you 
 are loved ! "
 
 A LOVE STORY. 101 
 
 " 'Tis that that makes me mad. I know it. 
 Oh ! why are you not like other children, Fer- 
 dinand ? When your uncle left us, my father 
 said s Good bye/ and shook his hand ; and' he, 
 he scarcely kissed us, he was so glad to leave 
 his home ; but you To-morrow — no, not to- 
 morrow. Can it be to-morrow ! " 
 
 " Mother, let me get up and call my father, 
 and tell him I will not go." 
 
 " Good God ! what words are these ? Not 
 go. 'Tis all your hope to go ; all ours, dear 
 child. What would your father say were he to 
 hear me speak thus ? Oh ! that I had not en- 
 tered ! What a fool I am ! " 
 
 " Dearest, dearest mother, believe me we shall 
 soon meet." 
 
 M Shall we soon meet ? God ! how joyous 
 will be the day." 
 
 '* And I — I will write to you by every ship." 
 
 " Oh ! never fail, Ferdinand, never fail." 
 
 M And send you a gazelle, and you shall call it 
 by my name, dear mother."
 
 102 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 " Darling child !" 
 
 " You know I have often stayed a month at 
 Grandpapa's, and once six weeks. Why ! eight 
 times six weeks, and I shall be home again." 
 
 " Home ! home again ! eight times six weeks 
 — A year, nearly a year ! It seems eternity. 
 Winter, and spring, and summer, and winter 
 again — all to pass away. And for seventeen 
 years he has scarcely been out of my sight. 
 Oh ! my idol, my beloved, my darling Ferdi- 
 nand, I cannot believe it ; I cannot believe that 
 we are to part." 
 
 y Mother, dearest mother, think of my father, 
 dearest; think how much his hopes are placed 
 on me — think, dearest mother, how much I have 
 to do. All now depends on me, you know. I 
 must restore our house.'' 
 
 " O ! Ferdinand, I dare not express the 
 thoughts that rise upon me; yet I would say 
 that, had I but my child, I could live in peace, 
 how or where I care not." 
 
 " Dearest mother, you unman me."
 
 A LOVE STORY. 103 
 
 " It is very wicked. I am a fool — I never, no ! 
 never shall I pardon myself for this night, Fer- 
 dinand." 
 
 " Sweet mother, I beseech you calm yourself. 
 Believe me we shall indeed meet very soon, and, 
 somehow or other, a little bird whispers to me 
 we shall yet be very happy." 
 
 " But will you be the same Ferdinand to me 
 as before? Ay ! there it is, my child. You will 
 be a man when you come back, and be ashamed 
 to love your mother. Promise me now," said 
 Lady Armine with extraordinary energy, "pro- 
 mise me, Ferdinand, you will always love me. 
 Do not let them make you ashamed of loving me. 
 They will joke, and jest, and ridicule all home 
 affections. You are very young, sweet love, very, 
 very young, and very inexperienced and sus- 
 ceptible. Do not let them spoil your frank and 
 beautiful nature. Do not let them lead vou 
 astray. Remember Armine, sweetest, dear, 
 dear Armine, and those who live there. Trust 
 me, oh ! yes, indeed believe me, darling, you
 
 104 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 will never find friends in this world like those 
 you leave at Armine." 
 
 " I know it," exclaimed Ferdinand, with 
 streaming eyes ; " God be my witness how deeply 
 I feel that truth. If I forget thee and them, 
 dear mother, may God indeed forget me." 
 
 " My darling, darling Ferdinand," said Lady 
 Armine, in a calm tone, " I am better now. I 
 hardly am sorry that I did come now. It will 
 be a consolation to me in you absence to remem- 
 ber all you have said. Good night, my beloved 
 child ; my darling love, good night. I shall not 
 come down to-morrow, dear. We will not meet 
 again — I will say good bye to you from the 
 window. Be happy, oh ! be happy, my dear 
 Ferdinand, and as you say, indeed, we shall soon 
 meet again. Eight-and-forty weeks ! Why what 
 are eight-and-forty weeks? It is not quite a year. 
 Courage,my sweet boy ! let us keep up each other's 
 spirits, love. Who knows what may yet come 
 from this your first venture in the world? I am full 
 of hope. I trust you will find all that you want.
 
 A LOVE STORY. 105 
 
 I packed up everything myself. Whenever you 
 want anything write to your mother. Mind, you 
 have eight packages ; I have written them down 
 on a card, and placed it on the hall table. And 
 take the greatest care of old Sir Ferdinand's 
 sword. I am very superstitious about that 
 sword, and while you have it I am sure you will 
 succeed. I have ever thought that, had he taken 
 it with him to France, all would have gone right 
 with him. God bless, God Almighty bless you, 
 child. Ee of good heart. I will write you 
 everything that takes place, and, as you say, we 
 shall soon meet. Indeed after to-night," she 
 added in a more mournful tone, " we have nought 
 else to think of but of meeting. I fear it is very 
 late. Your father will be surprised at my ab- 
 sence." She rose from his bed and walked up 
 and down the room several times in silence ; then 
 again approaching him, she folded him in her 
 arms and instantly quitted the chamber, without 
 again speaking. 
 
 f 3
 
 106 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE ADVANTAGE OF BEING A FAVOURITE 
 GRANDSON. 
 
 The exhausted Ferdinand found consolation in 
 sleep. When he woke the dawn was just break- 
 ing. He dressed and went forth to look, for the 
 last time, on his hereditary woods. The air was 
 cold, but the sky was perfectly clear, and the 
 beams of the rising sun soon spread over the blue 
 heaven. How fresh, and glad, and sparkling was 
 the surrounding scene ! With what enjoyment 
 did he inhale the soft and renovating breeze ! 
 The dew quivered on the grass, and the carol of 
 the wakening birds, roused from their slumbers 
 by the spreading warmth, resounded from the 
 groves. From the green knoll on which he 
 stood, he beheld the clustering village of Armine, 
 a little agricultural settlement, formed of the 
 peasants alone who lived on the estate. The
 
 A LOVE STORY. 107 
 
 smoke began to rise in blue curls from the cottage 
 chimneys, and the church clock struck the hour 
 of five. It seemed to Ferdinand that those 
 labourers were far happier than he, since the 
 setting sun would find them still at Armine : 
 happy, happy Armine ! 
 
 The sound of carriage wheels aroused him 
 from his reverie. The fatal moment had arrived. 
 He hastened to the gate according to his promise, 
 to bid farewell to Glastonbury. The good old 
 man was up. He pressed his pupil to his bosom 
 and blessed him with a choking voice. 
 
 " Dearest and kindest friend V murmured 
 Ferdinand. 
 
 Glastonbury placed round his neck a small 
 golden crucifix that had belonged to Lady Bar- 
 bara. " Wear it next your heart, my child," said 
 he ; u it will remind you of your God, and of us 
 all." Ferdinand quitted the tower with a thou- 
 sand blessings. 
 
 When he came in sight of the Place he saw his 
 father standing by the carriage, which was already
 
 108 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 packed. Ferdinand ran into the house to get 
 the card which had been left on the hall table 
 for him by his mother. He ran over the list 
 with the old and faithful domestic, and shook 
 hands with him. Nothing now remained. All 
 was ready. His father was seated. Ferdinand 
 stood a moment in thought. 
 
 " Let me run up to my mother, sir? " 
 
 " You had better not, my child," replied Sir 
 Ratcliffe, " she does not expect you. Come, 
 come along." 
 
 So he slowly seated himself, with his eyes fixed 
 on the window of his mother's chamber ; and, as 
 the carriage drove off, the window opened, and 
 a hand waved a white handkerchief. He saw no 
 more ; but as he saw it he clenched his hand in 
 agony. 
 
 How different was this journey to London to 
 his last ! He scarcely spoke a word. Nothing 
 interested him but his own feelings. The guard 
 and the coachman, and the bustle of the inn, 
 and the passing spectacles of the road, appeared
 
 A LOVE STORY. 109 
 
 a collection of impertinences. All of a sudden 
 it seemed that his boyish feelings had deserted 
 him. He was glad when they arrived in Lon- 
 don, and glad that they were to stay in it only a 
 single day. Sir Ratcliffe and his son called 
 upon the Duke; but, as they had anticipated, 
 the family had quitted town. Our travellers 
 put up at Hatchett's, and the following night 
 started for Exeter in the Devonport mail. Fer- 
 dinand arrived at the western metropolis without 
 having interchanged with his father scarcely a 
 hundred sentences. At Exeter, after a night of 
 most welcome rest, they took a post-chaise, and 
 proceeded by a cross-road to Grandison. 
 
 When Lord Grandison, who as yet was 
 perfectly unacquainted with the revolutions 
 in the Armine family, had clearly comprehended 
 that his grandson had obtained a commission 
 without either troubling him for his interest, or 
 putting him in the disagreeable predicament of 
 refusing his money, there were no bounds to the 
 extravagant testimonials of his affection, both
 
 110 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 towards his son-in-law and his grandson. He 
 seemed, indeed, quite proud of such relations ; 
 he patted Sir Ratcliffe on his back, asked a thou- 
 sand questions about his darling Constance, and 
 hugged and slobbered over Ferdinand, as if he 
 were a child of five years old. He informed all 
 his guests daily (and the house was very full) 
 that Lady Armine was his favourite daughter, 
 and Sir Ratcliffe his favourite son-in-law, and 
 Ferdinand especially his favourite grandchild. 
 He insisted upon Sir Ratcliffe always sitting at 
 the head of his table, and always placed Ferdi- 
 nand on his own right hand. He asked his 
 butler aloud at dinner why he had not given a 
 particular kind of Burgundy, because Sir Rat- 
 cliffe Armine was here. 
 
 " Darbois," said the old nobleman, " have not 
 I told you that that Clos de Vougoet is always 
 to be kept for Sir Ratcliffe Armine ? It is his 
 favourite wine. Clos de Vougoet directly to 
 Sir Ratcliffe Armine. I do not think, my dear 
 madam (turning to a fair neighbour), that I have
 
 A LOVE STORY. Ill 
 
 yet had the pleasure of introducing you to my 
 son-in-law, my favourite son-in-law, Sir Ratcliffe 
 Armine. — He married my daughter Constance, 
 my favourite daughter Constance. — Only here 
 for a few days, a very, very few days indeed. — 
 Quite a flying visit. — I wish I could see the whole 
 family oftener and longer. — Passing through to 
 Falmouth with his son, this young gentleman 
 on my right, my grandson, my favourite grand- 
 son, Ferdinand. — Just got his commission. — 
 Ordered for Malta immediately. — He is in the 
 Fusileers, the Royal Fusileers. — Very difficult, 
 my dear madam, in these days to obtain a com- 
 mission, especially a commission in the Royal 
 Fusileers. — Very great interest required, very 
 great interest, indeed. — But the Armines are a 
 most ancient family, very highly connected — 
 very highly connected ; and, between you and 
 me, the Duke of would do anything 
 
 7 JO 
 
 for them. — Come, come, Captain Armine, 
 take a glass of wine with your old grand- 
 father." 
 
 " How attached the old gentleman appears to
 
 112 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 be to his grandson," whispered the lady to her 
 neighbour. 
 
 " Delightful ! yes ! " was the reply, " I be- 
 lieve he is the favourite grandson." 
 
 In short, the old gentleman at last got so 
 excited by the universal admiration lavished on 
 his favourite grandson, that he finally insisted on 
 seeing the young hero in his regimentals ; and 
 when Ferdinand took his leave, after a great 
 many whimpering blessings, his domestic 
 feelings were worked up to such a pitch of 
 enthusiasm, that he absolutely presented his 
 grandson with a hundred-pound note. 
 
 "Thank you, my dear grandpapa," said the 
 astonished Ferdinand, who really did not expect 
 more than fifty — perhaps even a moiety of that 
 more moderate sum ; " thank you, my dear 
 grandpapa ; I am very much obliged to you, 
 indeed." 
 
 " I wish I could do more for you ; I do, 
 indeed," said Lord Grandison; "but nobody 
 ever thinks of paying his rent now. You 
 are my grandson my favourite grandson, my
 
 A LOVE STORY. 113 
 
 dear favourite daughter's only child. And you 
 are an officer in his Majesty's service — an officer 
 in the Royal Fu si leers — only think of that ! It 
 is the most unexpected thing that ever happened 
 to me. To see you so well and so unexpectedly 
 provided for, my dear child, has taken a -very 
 great load off my mind ; it has indeed. You 
 have no idea of a parent's anxiety in these 
 matters ; you have not indeed ; especially of a 
 grandfather. You will some day, I warrant 
 you," continued the noble grandfather, with an 
 expression between a giggle and a leer ; " but 
 do not be wild, my dear Ferdinand, do not be 
 too wild, at least. Y^oung blood must have its 
 way ; but be cautious ; now, do ; be cautious, 
 my dear child. Do not get into any scrapes ; 
 at least, do not get into any very serious scrapes ; 
 and, whatever happens to you," and here his 
 lordship assumed a very serious, and even a 
 solemn tone, " remember you have friends ; 
 remember, my dear boy, you have a grand- 
 father, and that you, my dear Ferdinand, are 
 his favourite grandson."
 
 114 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 This passing visit to Grandison rather rallied 
 the spirits of our travellers. When they arrived 
 at Falmouth, they found, however, that the 
 packet, which waited for government despatches, 
 was not yet to sail. Sir Ratcliffe scarcely knew 
 whether he ought to grieve or to rejoice at the 
 reprieve ; but he determined to be gay. So 
 Ferdinand and himself passed their mornings 
 in visiting the mines, Pendennis Castle, and the 
 other lions of the neighbourhood ; and returned 
 in the evening to their cheerful hotel, with good 
 appetites for their agreeable banquet, the mut- 
 ton of Dartmoor and the cream of Devon. 
 
 At length, however, the hour of separation 
 approached ; a message awaited them at the inn, 
 on their return from one of their rambles, that 
 Ferdinand must be on board at an early hour on 
 the morrow. That evening the conversation 
 between Sir Ratcliffe and his son was of a 
 graver nature than they usually indulged in. 
 He spoke to him in confidence of his affairs. 
 Dark hints, indeed, had before reached Ferdi- 
 nand ; nor, although his parents had ever spared
 
 A LOVE STORY. 115 
 
 his feelings, could his intelligent mind have 
 altogether refrained from guessing much that 
 had never been formally communicated. Yet 
 the truth was worse even than he had antici- 
 pated. Ferdinand, however, was young and 
 sanguine. He encouraged his father with his 
 hopes, and supported him by his sympathy. He 
 expressed to Sir Ratcliffe his confidence that the 
 generosity of his grandfather would prevent 
 him at present from becoming a burden to his 
 own parent, and he inwardly resolved that no 
 possible circumstances should ever induce him 
 to abuse the benevolence of Sir Ratcliffe. 
 
 The moment of separation arrived. Sir 
 Ratcliffe pressed to his bosom his only, his 
 loving, and his beloved child. He poured over 
 Ferdinand the deepest, the most fervid blessing 
 that a father ever granted to a son. But, with 
 all this pious consolation, it was a moment of 
 agony. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST BOOK.
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PARTLY RETROSPECTIVE, YET VERY NECESSARY 
 TO BE PERUSED. 
 
 The courteous reader will have the kindness 
 to understand that an interval of nearly five 
 years had elapsed between the event which 
 formed the subject of our last chapter and the 
 recall to England of the regiment in which 
 Captain Armine now commanded a company. 
 This period of time had passed away not un- 
 fruitful of events in the experience of that 
 family, in whose fate and feelings I have 
 attempted to excite the interest of the reader.
 
 118 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 In this interval Ferdinand Armine had paid one 
 short visit to his native land ; a visit which had 
 certainly been accelerated, if not absolutely 
 occasioned, by the untimely death of his cousin 
 Augustus, the presumptive heir of Grandison. 
 This unforeseen event produced a very great re- 
 volution in the prospects of the family of Armine ; 
 for although the title and entailed estates of 
 Grandison devolved to a very distant branch, the 
 personal property of the old Lord was of great 
 amount ; and, as he had no male heir now living, 
 conjectures as to its probable disposition were 
 now rife among all those who could possibly 
 become interested in it. Whatever arrangement 
 the old Lord might decide upon, it seemed 
 nearly certain that the Armine family must be 
 greatly benefited. Some persons even went so 
 far as to express their conviction that everything 
 would be left to Mr. Armine, who everybody 
 now discovered to have always been a particular 
 favourite with his grandfather. At all events, 
 Sir Ratcliffe, who ever maintained upon the
 
 A LOVE STORY. 119 
 
 subject a becoming silence, thought it as well 
 that his son should remind his grandfather 
 personally of his existence ; and it was at his 
 father's suggestion that Ferdinand had obtained 
 a short leave of absence, at the first opportunity, 
 to pay a hurried visit to Grandison and his 
 grandfather. 
 
 The old Lord yielded him a reception which 
 might have flattered the most daring hopes. 
 He embraced Ferdinand, and pressed him to his 
 heart a thousand times ; he gave him his blessing 
 in the most formal manner every morning and 
 evening ; and assured everybody that he now 
 was not only his favourite, but his only grand- 
 son. He did not even hesitate to affect a growing 
 dislike for his own seat, because it was not in his 
 power to leave it to Ferdinand ; and he endea- 
 voured to console that fortunate youth for this 
 indispensable deprivation by mysterious intima- 
 tions that he would, perhaps, find quite enough 
 to do with his money in completing Armine 
 castle, and maintaining its becoming splendour.
 
 120 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 The sanguine Ferdinand returned to Malta with 
 the conviction that he was his grandfather's heir, 
 and even Sir Ratcliffe was almost disposed to 
 believe that his son's expectations were not 
 without some show of probability, when he 
 found that Lord Grandison had absolutely fur- 
 nished him with the funds for the purchase 
 of his company. 
 
 Ferdinand was fond of his profession. He had 
 entered it, indeed, under the most favourable 
 circumstances. He had joined a crack regiment 
 in a crack garrison. Malta is certainly a most 
 delightful station. Its city, Valetta, equals in 
 its noble architecture, if it even do not excel, 
 any capital in Europe ; and although it must be 
 confessed that the surrounding region is little 
 better than a rock, the vicinity, nevertheless, of 
 Barbary, of Italy, and of Sicily, presents ex- 
 haustless resources to the lovers of the highest 
 order of natural beauty. If that fair Valetta, 
 with its streets of palaces, its picturesque forts 
 and magnificent church, only crowned some
 
 A LOVE STORY. 121 
 
 green and azure island of the Ionian Sea, Corfu 
 for instance, I really think that the ideal of 
 landscape would he realized. 
 
 To Ferdinand, who was inexperienced in the 
 world, the dissipation of Malta, too, was 
 delightful. It must be confessed that, under all 
 circumstances, the first burst of emancipation 
 from domestic routine hath in it something very 
 fascinating. However you may be indulged at 
 home, it is impossible to break the chain of 
 childish associations — it is impossible to escape 
 from the feeling of dependence and the habit of 
 submission. Charming hour when you first 
 order your own servants and ride your own 
 horses, instead of your father's ! It is delightful 
 even to kick about our own furniture ; and 
 there is something manly and magnanimous in 
 paying our own taxes. Young, lively, kind, 
 accomplished, good-looking, and well-bred, 
 Ferdinand Armine had in him all the elements 
 of popularity ; and the novelty of popularity 
 quite intoxicated a youth who had passed his life 
 
 G
 
 122 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 in a. rural seclusion, where be had been appre- 
 ciated, but not huzzaed. Ferdinand was not 
 only popular, but proud of being popular. He 
 was popular with the Governor, he was popular 
 with his Colonel, he was popular with his mess, 
 he was popular throughout the garrison. Never 
 was a person so popular as Ferdinand Armine. 
 He was the best rider among them, and the 
 deadliest shot ; and he soon became an oracle at 
 the billiard-table, and a hero in the racket- 
 court. His refined education, however, fortu- 
 nately preserved him from the fate of many other 
 lively youths : he did not degenerate into a mere 
 hero of sports and brawls, the genius of male 
 revels, the arbiter of roistering suppers, and the 
 Comus of a club. His boyish feelings had their 
 play ; he soon exuded the wanton heat of which 
 a public school would have served as a safety- 
 valve. He returned to his books, his music, 
 and his pencil. He became more quiet, but he 
 was not less liked. If he lost some companions, 
 he gained many friends ; and, on the whole, the
 
 A LOVE STORY. 123 
 
 most boisterous wassailers were proud of the 
 accomplishments of their comrade ; and often an 
 invitation to a mess dinner was accompanied by 
 a hint that Armine dined there, and that there was 
 a chance of hearing; him sing;. Ferdinand now 
 became as popular with the Governor's lady as 
 with the Governor himself, was quite idolized by 
 his ColonePs wife, while not a party throughout 
 the island was considered perfect without the 
 presence of Mr. Armine. 
 
 Excited bv his situation, Ferdinand was soon 
 tempted to incur expenses which his income did 
 not justify. The facility of credit afforded him 
 not a moment to pause ; everything he wanted 
 was furnished him ; and, until the regiment 
 quitted the garrison, he was well aware that a 
 settlement of accounts was never even desired. 
 Amid this imprudence he was firm, however, in 
 his resolution never to trespass on the resources 
 of his father. It was with difficulty that he 
 even brought himself to draw for the allowance 
 which Sir Iiatcliffe insisted on making him ; and 
 
 g 2
 
 124 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 lie would gladly have saved his father from 
 making even this advance, by vague intimations 
 of the bounty of Lord Grandison, had he not 
 feared this conduct might have led to suspicious 
 and disagreeable inquiries. It cannot be denied 
 that his debts occasionally caused him anxiety, 
 but they were not considerable ; he quieted his 
 conscience by the belief that, if he were pressed, 
 his grandfather could scarcely refuse to discharge 
 a few hundred pounds for his favourite grand- 
 son ; and, at all events, he felt that the ultimate 
 resource of selling his commission was still re- 
 served for him. If these vague prospects did not 
 drive away compunction, the qualms of con- 
 science were generally allayed in the evening 
 assembly, in which his vanity was gratified. 
 At length he paid his first visit to England. 
 That was a happy meeting. His kind father, 
 his dear, dear mother, and the faithful Glaston- 
 bury, experienced some of the most transporting 
 moments of their existence, when they beheld, 
 with admiring gaze, the hero who returned to
 
 A LOVE STORY. 125 
 
 them. Their eyes were never satiated with 
 beholding him ; they hung upon his accents. 
 Then came the triumphant visit to Grandison : 
 and then Ferdinand returned to Malta, in the 
 full conviction that he was the heir of fifteen 
 thousand a-year. 
 
 Among many other, there is one characteristic 
 of capitals in which Valetta is not deficient : the 
 facility with which young heirs apparent, pre- 
 sumptive, or expectant, can obtain any accom- 
 modation they desire. The terms — never mind 
 the terms — who ever thinks of them ? As for 
 Ferdinand Armine, who, as the only son of an 
 old Baronet, and the supposed future inheritor 
 of Armine Park, had always been looked upon 
 by tradesmen with a gracious eye, he found 
 that his popularity in this respect was not at 
 all diminished by his visit to England, and its 
 supposed consequences ; slight expressions, ut- 
 tered on his return in the confidence of convivial 
 companionship, were repeated, misrepresented, 
 exaggerated, and circulated in all quarters.
 
 126 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 We like those whom we love to be fortunate. 
 Everybody rejoices in the good luck of a popu- 
 lar character ; and soon it was generally under- 
 stood that Ferdinand Armine had become next 
 in the entail to thirty thousand a-year and a 
 peerage. Moreover, he was not long to wait 
 for .his inheritance. The usurers pricked up 
 their ears, and such numerous proffers of accom- 
 modation and assistance were made to the for- 
 tunate Mr. Armine, that he really found 
 it quite impossible to refuse them, or to reject 
 the loans that were almost forced on his ac- 
 ceptance. 
 
 Ferdinand Armine had passed the Rubicon. 
 He was in debt. If youth but knew the fatal 
 misery that they are entailing on themselves 
 the moment they accept a pecuniary credit 
 to which they are not entitled, how they would 
 start in their career ! how pale they would turn ! 
 how they would tremble, and clasp their hands 
 in agony at the precipice on which they are 
 disporting ! Debt is the prolific mother of folly
 
 A LOVE STORY. 127 
 
 and of crime ; it taints the course of life in all 
 its streams. Hence so many unhappy mar- 
 riages, so many prostituted pens, and venal 
 politicians ! It hath a small beginning, but a 
 giant's growth and strength. When we make 
 the monster, we make our master, who haunts 
 us at all hours, and shakes his whip of scorpions 
 for ever in our sight. The slave hath no over- 
 seer so severe. Faustus, when he signed the 
 bond with blood, did not secure a doom more 
 terrific. But when we are young, we must 
 enjoy ourselves. True ; and there are few 
 things more gloomy than the recollection of a 
 youth that has not been enjoyed. What pros- 
 perity of manhood, what splendour of old age, 
 can compensate for it ? Wealth is power ; and 
 in youth, of all seasons of life, we require 
 power, because w r e can enjoy everything that 
 we can command. What, then, is to be done ? 
 I leave the question to the schoolmen, because 
 I am convinced that to moralise with the inex- 
 perienced availeth nothing.
 
 128 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 The conduct of men depends upon their tem- 
 perament, not upon a bunch of musty maxims. 
 No one had been educated with more care than 
 Ferdinand Armine ; in no heart had stricter 
 precepts of moral conduct ever been instilled. 
 But he was lively and impetuous, with a fiery 
 imagination, violent passions, and a daring soul. 
 Sanguine he was as the day ; he could not 
 believe in the night of sorrow, and the impene- 
 trable gloom that attends a career that has 
 failed. The world was all before him ; and he 
 dashed at it like a young charger in his first 
 strife, confident that he must rush to victory, 
 and never dreaming of death. 
 
 Thus would I attempt to account for the ex- 
 treme imprudence of his conduct on his return 
 from England. He was confident in his future 
 fortunes ; he was excited by the applause of the 
 men, and the admiration of the women ; he 
 determined to gratify, even to satiety, his ex- 
 cited and restless vanity ; he broke into profuse 
 expenditure ; he purchased a yacht ; he engaged
 
 A LOVE STORY. 129 
 
 a villa; his racing-horses and his servants ex- 
 ceeded all other establishments except the 
 Governor's, in breeding, in splendour, and in 
 number. Occasionally wearied with the mo- 
 notony of Malta, he obtained a short leave of 
 absence, and passed a few weeks at Naples, 
 Palermo, and Rome, where he glittered in the 
 most brilliant circles, and whence he returned 
 laden with choice specimens of art and luxury, 
 and followed by the report of strange and flat- 
 tering adventures. Finally, he was the prime 
 patron of the Maltese opera, and brought over a 
 celebrated Prima Donna from San Carlos in his 
 own vessel. 
 
 In the midst of his career, Ferdinand received 
 intelligence of the death of Lord Grandison. 
 Fortunately, when he received it, he was alone ; 
 there was no one, therefore, to witness his blank 
 dismay when he discovered that, after all, he 
 was not his grandfather's heir ! After a vast 
 number of the most trifling legacies to his daugh- 
 ters, and their husbands, and their children, and 
 
 g 3
 
 130 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 all his favourite friends, Lord Grandison left 
 the whole of his personal property to his grand- 
 daughter Katherine, the only remaining child 
 of his son, who had died early in life, and the 
 sister of the lately deceased Augustus. 
 
 What was to be done now ? His mother's san- 
 guine mind — for Lady Armine broke to him the 
 fatal intelligence — already seemed to anticipate 
 the only remedy for this " unjust will." It was 
 a remedy delicately intimated, but the intimation 
 fell upon a fine and ready ear. Yes ! he must 
 marry ; he must marry his cousin ; he must 
 marry Katherine Grandison. Ferdinand looked 
 around him at his magnificent rooms ; the damask 
 hangings of Tunis, the tall mirrors from Mar- 
 seilles, the inlaid tables, the marble statues, and 
 the alabaster vases that he had purchased at 
 Florence and at Rome, and the delicate mats 
 that he had himself imported from Algiers. He 
 looked around and he shrugged his shoulders — 
 " All this must be paid for," thought he ; " and, 
 alas ! how much more ! " And then came across
 
 A LOVE STORY. 131 
 
 his mind a recollection of his father and his cares, 
 and innocent Armine, and dear Glastonbury, and 
 his sacrifice. Ferdinand shook his head and 
 sighed. 
 
 "How have I repaid them!" thought he. 
 " Thank God they know nothing. Thank God 
 they have only to bear their own disappointments 
 and their own privations : but it is in vain to 
 moralise. The future, not the past, must be my 
 motto. To retreat is impossible ; I may yet 
 advance and conquer. Katherine Grandison : 
 only think of my little cousin Kate for a wife! 
 They say that it is not the easiest task in the 
 world to fan a lively flame in the bosom of a 
 cousin. The love of cousins is proverbially not 
 of a very romantic character. "Tis well I have 
 not seen her much in my life, and very little of 
 late. Familiarity breeds contempt, they say. 
 Will she dare to despise me ? " He glanced at 
 the mirror. The inspection was not unsatisfac- 
 tory. Plunged in profound meditation, he paced 
 the room.
 
 132 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 IN WHICH CAPTAIN ARMINE ACHIEVES WITH 
 RAPIDITY A RESULT WHICH ALWAYS REQUIRES 
 GREAT DELIBERATION. 
 
 It so happened that the regiment in which 
 Captain Armine had the honour of commanding 
 a company was at this time under orders of 
 immediate recall to England ; and within a 
 month of his receipt of the fatal intelligence of 
 his being, as he styled it, disinherited, he was on 
 his way to his native land. This speedy depar- 
 ture was fortunate, because it permitted him to 
 retire before the death of Lord Grandison became 
 generally known, and consequently commented 
 upon and inquired into. Previous to quitting 
 the garrison, Ferdinand had settled his affairs 
 for the time without the slightest difficulty, as 
 he was still able to raise any money that he 
 required.
 
 A LOVE STORY. 133 
 
 On arriving at Falmouth, Ferdinand learnt 
 that his father and mother were at Bath, on a 
 visit to his maiden aunt, Miss Grandison, with 
 whom his cousin now resided. As the regiment 
 was quartered at Exeter, he was enabled in a 
 very few days to obtain leave of absence, and 
 join them. In the first rapture of meeting all 
 disappointment was forgotten, and in the course 
 of a day or two, when this sentiment had some- 
 what subsided, Ferdinand perceived that the 
 shock which his parents must have necessarily 
 experienced was already considerably softened 
 by the prospect in which they secretly indulged, 
 and which various circumstances combined in 
 inducing them to believe was by no means a 
 visionary one. 
 
 His cousin Katherine was about his own age; 
 mild, elegant, and very pretty. Being very fair, 
 she looked extremely well in her deep mourning. 
 She was not remarkable for the liveliness of her 
 mind, yet not devoid of observation, although 
 easily influenced by those whom she loved, and
 
 134 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 with whom she lived. Her maiden aunt evi- 
 dently exercised a powerful control over her con- 
 duct and opinions ; and Lady Armine was a 
 favourite sister of this maiden aunt. Without 
 therefore apparently directing her will, there was 
 no lack of effort from this quarter to predispose 
 Katherine in favour of her cousin. She heard 
 so much of her cousin Ferdinand, of his beauty, 
 and his goodness, and his accomplishments, that 
 she had looked forward to his arrival with feel- 
 ings of no ordinary interest. And, indeed, if 
 the opinions and sentiments of those with whom 
 she lived could influence, there was no need 
 of any artifice to predispose her in favour of her 
 cousin. Sir Ratcliffe and Lady Armine were 
 wrapped up in their son. They seemed scarcely 
 to have another idea, feeling, or thought in the 
 world, but his existence and his felicity ; and 
 although their good sense had ever preserved 
 them from the silly habit of uttering his pane- 
 gyric in his presence, they amply compensated 
 for this painful restraint when he was away.
 
 A LOVE STORY. 135 
 
 Then he was ever the handsomest, the cleverest, 
 the most accomplished, and the most kind- 
 hearted and virtuous of his sex. Fortunate 
 the parents blessed with such a son ! thrice 
 fortunate the wife blessed with such a husband ! 
 
 It was therefore with no ordinary emotion 
 that Katherine Grandison heard that this perfect 
 cousin Ferdinand had at length arrived. She 
 had seen little of him even in his boyish days, 
 and even then he was rather a hero in their 
 Lilliputian circle. 
 
 Ferdinand Armine was always looked up to 
 at Grandison, and always spoken of by her 
 grandfather as a very fine fellow indeed ; a 
 wonderfully fine fellow, his favourite grand- 
 son, Ferdinand Armine : and now he had 
 arrived. His knock was heard at the door, his 
 step was on the stairs, the door opened, and 
 certainly his first appearance did not disappoint 
 his cousin Kate. So handsome, so easy, so 
 gentle, and so cordial; they were all the best 
 friends in a moment. Then he embraced his
 
 136 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 father with such fervour, and kissed his mother 
 with such fondness : it was very evident that 
 he had an excellent heart. His arrival, indeed, 
 was a revolution. Their mourning days seemed 
 at once to disappear ; and although they of course 
 entered society very little, and never frequented 
 any public amusement, it seemed to Katherine 
 that all of a sudden she lived in a round of de- 
 lightful gaiety. Ferdinand was so amusing and 
 so accomplished ! He sang with her, he played 
 with her ; he was always projecting long summer 
 rides, and long summer walks. Then his con- 
 versation was so different to everything to which 
 she had ever listened. He had seen so many 
 things and so many persons ; everything that 
 was strange, and everybody that was famous. 
 His opinions were so original, his illustrations 
 so apt and lively, his anecdotes so inexhaustible 
 and sparkling ! Poor inexperienced, innocent 
 Katherine ! Her cousin in four-and- twenty 
 hours found it quite impossible to fall in love 
 with her ; and so he determined to make her fall
 
 A LOVE STORY. 137 
 
 in love with him. He quite succeeded. She 
 adored him. She did not believe that there 
 was any one in the world so handsome,, so good, 
 and so clever ! No one, indeed, who knew 
 Ferdinand Armine, could denv that he was a 
 rare being ; but, had there been any acute and 
 unprejudiced observers who had known him in 
 his younger and happier hours, they would 
 perhaps have remarked some difference in his 
 character and conduct, and not a favourable one. 
 He was indeed more brilliant, but not quite so 
 interesting as in old days ; far more dazzling, 
 but not quite so apt to charm. No one could 
 deny his lively talents and his perfect breeding, 
 but there was a restlessness about him, an 
 excited and exaggerated style, which might have 
 made some suspect that his demeanour was an 
 effort, and that under a superficial glitter, by 
 which so many are deceived, there was no little 
 deficiency of the genuine and sincere. Kathe- 
 rine Grandison, however, was not one of those 
 profound observers. She was easily captivated.
 
 138 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 Ferdinand, who really did not feel sufficient 
 emotion to venture upon a scene, made his pro- 
 posals to her when they were riding in a green 
 lane; the sun just setting, and the evening star 
 glittering through a vista. The lady blushed, 
 and wept, and sobbed, and hid her fair and 
 streaming face, but the result was as satisfactory 
 as our hero could desire. The young equestrians 
 kept their friends in the Crescent at least two 
 hours for dinner, and then had no appetite for 
 the repast when they had arrived. Nevertheless 
 the maiden aunt, although a very particular 
 personage, made this day no complaint, and was 
 evidently far from being dissatisfied with any- 
 body or anything. As for Ferdinand, he called 
 for a tumbler of champaign, and secretly drank 
 his own health, as the luckiest fellow of his 
 acquaintance, with a pretty, amiable, and high- 
 bred wife, with all his debts paid, and the house 
 of Armine restored.
 
 A LOVE STORY. 139 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 IN WHICH FERDINAND RETURNS TO ARM1NE. 
 
 It was settled that a year must elapse from 
 the death of Lord Grandison before the voimg 
 couple could be united : a reprieve which did 
 not occasion Ferdinand any very acute grief. 
 In the mean time the Grandisons were to pass at 
 least the autumn at Armine, and thither the 
 united families proposed soon to direct their pro- 
 gress. Ferdinand, who had been nearly two 
 months at Bath, and was a little wearied of court- 
 ship, contrived to quit that city before his 
 friends, on the plea of visiting London, to 
 arrange about selling his commission ; for it was 
 agreed that he should quit the army. 
 
 On his arrival in London, having spoken to 
 his agent, and finding town quite empty, he set
 
 140 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 off immediately for Armine, in order that he 
 might have the pleasure of being there a few 
 days without the society of his intended ; run 
 through the woods on the approaching first of 
 September; and, especially, embrace his dear 
 Glastonbury. For it must not be supposed 
 that Ferdinand had forgotten for a moment 
 this invaluable friend ; on the contrary, he had 
 written to him several times since his arrival ; 
 always assuring him that nothing but impor- 
 tant business could prevent him from instantly 
 paying him his respects. 
 
 It was with feelings of no common emotion, 
 it was with feelings even of agitation, that Fer- 
 dinand beheld the woods of his ancient home 
 rise in the distance, and soon the towers and 
 turrets of Armine Castle. Those venerable 
 bowers, that proud and lordly house, were not 
 then to pass away from their old and famous 
 line? He had redeemed the heritage of his 
 great ancestry ; he looked with unmingled com- 
 placency on the magnificent landscape, once to
 
 A LOVE STORY. 141 
 
 him a source of as much anxiety as affection. 
 What a change in the destiny of the Armines ! 
 Their glory restored ; his own devoted and 
 domestic hearth, once the prey of so much care 
 and gloom, crowned with ease, and happiness, 
 and joy ; on all sides a career of splendour and 
 felicity. And he had done all this ! What a 
 prophet was his mother ! She had ever indulged 
 the fond conviction that her beloved son would 
 be their restorer. How wise and pious was the 
 undeviating confidence of kind old Glastonbury 
 in their fate ! With what pure, what heartfelt 
 delight, would that faithful friend listen to his 
 extraordinary communication ! 
 
 His carriage dashed through the Park gates 
 as if the driver were sensible of his master's 
 pride and exultation. Glastonbury was ready 
 to welcome him, standing in the flower-garden^ 
 which he had made so rich and beautiful, and 
 which had been the charm and consolation of 
 many of their humbler hours. 
 
 " My dear, dear father,"' exclaimed Ferdi-
 
 142 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 nand, embracing him, for thus he ever styled 
 his old tutor. 
 
 But Glastonbury could not speak ; the tears 
 quivered in his eyes and trickled down his 
 faded cheek. Ferdinand led him into the 
 house. 
 
 " How well you look, dear father," con- 
 tinued Ferdinand ; " you really look younger 
 and heartier than ever. You received all my 
 letters, I am sure ; and yours, — how kind of 
 you to remember and to write to me ! I never 
 forgot you, my dear, dear friend. I never 
 could forget you. Do you know I am the 
 happiest fellow in the world ? I have the 
 greatest news in the world to tell my Glas- 
 tonbury ! and we owe everything to you, every- 
 thing. What would Sir Ratcliffe have been with- 
 out you ? what should I have been ? Fancy 
 the best news you can, dear friend, and it is 
 not as good as I have got to tell. You will 
 rejoice, you will be delighted! We shall fur- 
 nish a castle ! by Jove we shall furnish a castle !
 
 A LOVE STORY. 143 
 
 we shall, indeed, and you shall build it ! No 
 more gloom ; no more care. The Armines shall 
 hold their heads up again, by Jove they shall ! 
 Dearest, dearest of men, I dare say you think 
 me mad. I am mad ; mad with joy. How 
 that Virginian creeper has grown ! I have 
 brought you such lots of plants, my father ! 
 a complete Sicilian Hortus Siccus. Ah, John, 
 faithful John ! give me your hand. How is 
 your wife ? Take care of my pistol-case. Ask 
 Louis ; he knows all about everything. Well, 
 my dear, dear Glastonbury, and how have you 
 been ? how is the old tower ? how are the old 
 books, and the old staff, and the old arms, and 
 the old everything ? dear, dear Glastonbury ! " 
 
 While the carriage was unpacking, and the 
 dinner-table prepared, the friends walked in the 
 garden, and from thence strolled towards the 
 tower, where they remained some time pacing 
 up and down the beechen avenue. It was very 
 evident, on their return, that Ferdinand had 
 communicated his great intelligence. The coun-
 
 144 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 tenance of Glastonbury was quite radiant with 
 delight. Indeed, although he had dined, he 
 accepted with readiness Ferdinand's invitation 
 to repeat the ceremony ; nay, he quaffed more 
 than one glass of wine ; and, I believe, even 
 drank the health of every member of the united 
 families of Armine and Grandison. It was late, 
 very late, before the companions parted, and 
 retired for the night ; and I think, before they 
 bade each other good night, they must have 
 talked over every circumstance that had oc- 
 curred in their experience since the birth of 
 Ferdinand.
 
 A LOVE STORY. 145 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 IN WHICH SOME LIGHT IS THROWN ON THE 
 TITLE OF THIS WORK. 
 
 How delicious, after a long, long absence, to 
 wake on a sunny morning, and find ourselves at 
 home ! Ferdinand could scarcely credit that he 
 was really again at Armine. He started up in 
 his bed, and rubbed his eyes, and stared at the 
 unaccustomed, yet familiar sights, and, for a 
 moment, Malta, and the Royal Fusileers, Bath 
 and his betrothed, were all a dream ; and then 
 he remembered the visit of his dear mother to 
 this very room on the eve of his first departure. 
 He had returned; in safety had he returned, 
 and in happiness, to accomplish all her hopes, 
 and to reward her for all her solicitude. Never 
 felt any one more content than Ferdinand 
 Armine — more content and more grateful. 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 He rose and opened the casement ; a rich and 
 exhilarating perfume filled the chamber ; he 
 looked with a feeling of delight and pride over 
 the broad and beautiful park ; the tall trees rising 
 and flinging their taller shadows over the bright 
 and dewy turf, and the last mists clearing away 
 from the distant woods, and blending with the 
 spotless sky. Every thing was sweet and still, 
 save, indeed, the carol of the birds, or the tinkle of 
 some restless bell-wether. It was a rich autum- 
 nal morn. And yet, with all the excitement of his 
 new views in life, and the blissful consciousness 
 of the happiness of those he loved, he could 
 not but feel that a great change had come over 
 his spirit since the days he was wont to ramble 
 in this old haunt of his boyhood. His innocence 
 was gone. Life was no longer that deep un- 
 broken trance of duty and of love from which he 
 had been roused to so much care; and if not 
 remorse, at least to so much compunction. He 
 had no secrets then. Existence was not then a 
 subterfuge, but a calm and candid state of serene
 
 A LOVE STORY. 147 
 
 enjoyment. Feelings then were not compro- 
 mised for interests; and then it was the excel- 
 lent that was studied, not the expedient. " Yet 
 such I suppose is life," murmured Ferdinand ; 
 " we moralise when it is too late; nor is there 
 any thing more silly than to regret. One 
 event makes another : what we anticipate sel- 
 dom occurs; what we least expect generally 
 happens ; and time can only prove which is most 
 for our advantage. And surely I am the last 
 person who should look grave. Our ancient 
 house rises from its ruins ; the beings I love 
 most in the world are not only happy, but 
 indebted to me for their happiness, and I — I 
 myself, with every gift of fortune suddenly 
 thrown at my feet — what more can I desire? 
 Am I not satisfied? Why do I even ask the 
 question ? I am sure 1 know not. It rises like 
 a devil in my thoughts, and spoils every thing. 
 The girl is young, noble, and fair — and loves me. 
 And her — I love her — at least I suppose I love 
 her. I love her at any rate as much as I love, 
 
 H 2
 
 148 RENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 or ever did love, woman. There is no great 
 sacrifice, then, on my part; there should be 
 none ; there is none ; unless, indeed, it be that a 
 man does not like to give up without a struggle 
 all his chance of romance and rapture. 
 
 " I know not how it is, but there are moments 
 I almost wish that I had no father and no mother ; 
 ay ! not a single friend or relative in the world, 
 and that Armine was sunk into the very centre 
 of the earth. If I stood alone in the world, 
 methinks I might find the place that suits me ; — 
 now every thing seems ordained for me, as it 
 were, beforehand. My spirit has had no play. 
 Something whispers me that, with all its flush 
 prosperity, this is neither wise nor well. God 
 knows I am not heartless, and would be grate- 
 ful ; and yet, if life can afford me no deeper 
 sympathy than I have yet experienced, I cannot 
 but hold it, even with all its sweet affections, as 
 little better than a dull delusion." 
 
 While Ferdinand was thus moralising at the 
 casement, Glastonbury appeared beneath; and
 
 A LOVE STORY. 149 
 
 his appearance dissipated in an instant this gather- 
 ing gloom. " Let us breakfast together," pro- 
 posed Ferdinand. " I have breakfasted these 
 two hours," replied the hermit of the gate. " I 
 hope that on the first night of your return to 
 Armine you have proved auspicious dreams." 
 
 " My bed and I are old companions," said 
 Ferdinand ;" and we agreed very well. I tell 
 you what, my dear Glastonbury, we will have a 
 stroll together this morning, and talk over our 
 plans of last night. Go into the library and 
 look over my sketch-books. You will find 
 them on my pistol-case, and I will be with you 
 anon." 
 
 In due time the friends commenced their 
 ramble. Ferdinand soon became excited by 
 Glastonbury's various suggestions for the com- 
 pletion of the castle; and as for the old man 
 himself, between his architectural creation and 
 the restoration of the family, to which he had 
 been so long devoted, he was in a rapture of
 
 150 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 enthusiasm, which afforded an amusing contrast 
 to his usual meek and subdued demeanour. 
 
 " Your grandfather was a great man," said 
 Glastonbury, who in old days seldom ventured 
 to mention the name of the famous Sir Ferdi- 
 nand : " there is no doubt he was a very great 
 man. He had great ideas. How he would 
 glory in our present prospects ! 'Tis strange 
 what a strong confidence I have ever had in the 
 destiny of your house. I felt sure that Provi- 
 dence would not desert us. There is no doubt 
 we must have a portcullis.'" 
 
 " Decidedly a portcullis," said Ferdinand ; 
 " you shall make all the drawings yourself, my 
 dear Glastonbury, and supervise every thing. 
 We will not have a single anachronism. It shall 
 be perfect." 
 
 " Perfect," echoed Glastonbury ; " really per- 
 fect ! It shall be a perfect Gothic castle. I have 
 such treasures for the work. All the labours of 
 my life have tended to this object. I have all
 
 A LOVE STORY. 151 
 
 the emblazonings of your house since the Conquest. 
 There shall be three hundred shields in the hall. 
 I will paint them myself. Oh ! there is no place 
 in the world like Armine ! " 
 
 " Nothing," said Ferdinand ; " I have seen a 
 great deal, but, after all, there is nothing like 
 Armine." 
 
 " Had we been born to this splendour,' 1 said 
 Glastonbury, " we should have thought little of 
 it. We have been mildly and wisely chastened. 
 I cannot sufficiently admire the wisdom of Pro- 
 vidence, which has tempered, by such a wise 
 dispensation, the too-eager blood of your race." 
 
 " I should be sorry to pull down the old 
 Place," said Ferdinand. 
 
 " It must not be," said Glastonbury ; " we 
 have lived there happily, though humbly." 
 
 " I would we could move it to another part 
 of the park, like the house of Loretto," said 
 Ferdinand with a smile. 
 
 " We can cover it with ivy," observed 
 Glastonbury, looking somewhat grave.
 
 152 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 The morning stole away in these agreeable 
 plans and prospects. At length the friends 
 parted, agreeing to meet again at dinner. 
 Glastonbury repaired to his tower, and Ferdi- 
 nand, taking his gun, sauntered into the sur- 
 rounding wilderness. 
 
 But he felt no inclination for sport. The 
 conversation with Glastonbury had raised a 
 thousand thoughts over which he longed to 
 brood. His life had been a scene of such con- 
 stant excitement, since his return to England, 
 that he had enjoyed little opportunity of 
 indulging in calm self-communion ; and now 
 that he was at Armine, and alone, the contrast 
 between his past and his present situation struck 
 him so forcibly, that he could not refrain from 
 falling into a reverie upon his fortunes. It was 
 wonderful — all wonderful — very, very wonder- 
 ful. There seemed, indeed, as Glastonbury 
 affirmed, a providential dispensation in the 
 whole transaction. The fall of his family — the 
 heroic, and, as it now appeared, prescient firm-
 
 A LOVE STORY. 1J3 
 
 tress with which his father had clung, in all 
 their deprivations, to his unproductive patri- 
 mony — his own education — the extinction of his 
 mother's house — his very follies, once to him a 
 cause of so much unhappiness, but which it now 
 seemed were all the time compelling him, as it 
 were, to his prosperity; — all these, and a thousand 
 other traits and circumstances, flitted over his 
 mind, and were each in turn the subject of his 
 manifold meditation. Willing was he to credit 
 that destiny had reserved for him the character 
 of restorer : that duty, indeed, he had accepted, 
 and yet — 
 
 He looked around him as if to see what devil 
 was whispering in his ear. He was alone. No 
 one was there or near. Around him rose the 
 silent bowers, and scarcely the voice of a bird or 
 the hum of an insect disturbed the deep tran- 
 quillity. But a cloud seemed to rest on the fair 
 and pensive brow of Ferdinand Armine. He 
 threw himself on the turf, leaning his head on 
 one arm, and, with the other, plucking the wild 
 
 h 3
 
 154 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 flowers, which he as hastily, almost as fretfully, 
 flung away. 
 
 " Conceal it as I will," he exclaimed, " I am 
 a victim ; disguise them as I may, all the consi- 
 derations are worldly. There is, there must be, 
 something better in this world than power, and 
 wealth, and rank ; and surely there must be 
 felicity more rapturous even than securing the 
 happiness of a parent. Ah ! dreams in which 
 I have so oft and so fondly indulged, are ye, 
 indeed, after all, but fantastical and airy visions ? 
 Is love, indeed, a delusion, or am I marked out 
 from men alone to be exempted from its delicious 
 bondage? It must be a delusion. All laugh 
 at it, all jest about it, all agree in stigmatising 
 it the vanity of vanities. And does my experi- 
 ence contradict this harsh but common fame ? 
 Alas ! what have I seen or known to give the 
 lie to this ill-report ? No one — nothing. Some 
 women I have met more beautiful, assuredly, 
 than Kate, and many, many less fair ; and some 
 have crossed my path with a wild and brilliant
 
 A LOVE STORY. 155 
 
 grace, that has for a moment dazzled my sight, 
 and, perhaps, for a moment lured ! me from 
 my way. But these shooting stars have but 
 glittered transiently in my heaven, and only 
 made me, by their evanescent brilliancy, more 
 sensible of its gloom. Let me believe then, oh ! 
 let me of all men then believe, that the forms 
 that inspire the sculptor and the painter have 
 no models in nature ; that that combination of 
 beauty and grace, of fascinating intelligence and 
 fond devotion, over which men brood in the soft 
 hours of their young loneliness, is but the 
 promise of a better world, and not the charm of 
 this one. 
 
 "But, what terror in that truth ! what despair ! 
 what madness ! Yes ! at this moment of severest 
 scrutiny, how profoundly I feel that life without 
 love is worse than death ! How vain and void, how 
 flat and fruitless, appear all those splendid 
 accidents of existence for which men struggle, 
 
 Do 7 
 
 without this essential and pervading charm ! 
 What a world without a sun ! Yes ! without
 
 156 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 this transcendent sympathy, riches and rank, 
 and even power and fame, seem to me at best 
 but jewels set in a coronet of lead ! 
 
 " And who knows whether that extraordinary 
 being, of whose magnificent yet ruinous career 
 this castle is in truth a fitting emblem — I say 
 who knows whether the secret of his wild and 
 restless course is not hidden in this same sad 
 lack of love ? Perhaps, while the world, the 
 silly superficial world, marvelled and mora- 
 lised at his wanton life, and poured forth their 
 anathemas against his heartless selfishness, per- 
 chance he all the time was sighing for some soft 
 bosom whereon to pour his overwhelming pas- 
 sion — even as I am ! 
 
 " O Nature ! why art thou beautiful? My heart 
 requires not, imagination cannot paint, a sweeter 
 or a fairer scene than these surounding bowers. 
 This azure vault of heaven, this golden sunshine, 
 this deep and blending shade, these rare and fra- 
 grant shrubs, yon grove of green and tallest pines, 
 and the bright gliding of this swan-crowned lake
 
 A LOVE STORY. 157 
 
 —my soul is charmed with all this beauty and 
 this sweetness ; I feel no disappointment here ; 
 my mind does not here outrun reality ; here 
 there is no cause to mourn over ungratified 
 hopes and fanciful desires. Is it then my 
 destiny that I am to be baffled only in the 
 dearest desires of my heart ? n 
 
 At this moment the loud and agitated barking 
 of his dogs at some little distance roused Ferdi- 
 nand from his reverie. He called them to him, 
 and soon one of them obeyed his summons, but 
 instantly returned to his companion with such 
 significant gestures, panting and yelping, that 
 Ferdinand supposed that Basto was caught 
 perhaps in some trap : so, taking up his gun, he 
 proceeded to the dog's rescue. 
 
 To his great surprise, as he was about to 
 emerge from a berceau on to a plot of turf, in 
 the centre of which grew a very large cedar, he 
 beheld a lady in a riding-habit standing before 
 the tree, and evidently admiring its beautiful 
 proportions.
 
 158 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 Her countenance was raised and motionless. 
 It seemed to him that it was more radiant than 
 the sunshine. He gazed with rapture on the 
 dazzling brilliancy of her complexion, the 
 delicate regularity of her features, and the large 
 violet-tinted eyes, fringed with the longest and 
 the darkest lashes that he had ever beheld. 
 From her position her hat had fallen to the 
 very back of her head, revealing her lofty and 
 pellucid brow, and the dark and lustrous locks 
 that were braided over her temples. The 
 whole countenance combined that brilliant 
 health and that classic beauty which we associ- 
 ate with the idea of some nymph tripping over 
 the dew-bespangled meads of Ida, or glancing 
 amid the hallowed groves of Greece. Although 
 the lady could scarcely have seen eighteen 
 summers, her stature was above the common 
 height; but language cannot describe the 
 startling symmetry of her superb figure. 
 
 There is no love but love at first sight. This 
 is the transcendent and surpassing offspring of
 
 A LOVE STORY. 159 
 
 sheer and unpolluted sympathy. All other is 
 the illegitimate result of observation, of reflec- 
 tion, of compromise, of comparison, of expe- 
 diency. The passions that endure flash like 
 the lightning : they scorch the soul, but it is 
 warmed for ever. Miserable man whose love 
 rises by degrees upon the frigid morning of 
 his mind ! Some hours indeed of warmth and 
 lustre may perchance fall to his lot ; some 
 moments of meridian splendour, in which he 
 basks in what he deems eternal sunshine. But 
 then how often overcast by the clouds of care, 
 how often dusked by the blight of misery and 
 misfortune ! And certain as the gradual rise 
 of such affection is its gradual decline, and 
 melancholy set. Then, in the chill dim twilight 
 of his soul, he execrates custom ; because he 
 has madly expected that feelings could be 
 habitual that were not homogeneous, and 
 because he has been guided by the observation 
 of sense, and not by the inspiration of sympathy. 
 Amid the gloom and travail of existence sud-
 
 160 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 denly to behold a beautiful being, and, as 
 instantaneously, to feel an overwhelming con- 
 viction that with that fair form for ever our 
 destiny must be entwined ; that there is no 
 more joy but in her joy, no sorrow but when 
 she grieves ; that in her sigh of love, in her 
 smile of fondness, hereafter is all bliss ; to feel 
 our flaunty ambition fade away like a shrivelled 
 gourd before her vision ; to feel fame a juggle 
 and posterity a lie ; and to be prepared at once, 
 for this great object, to forfeit and fling away 
 all former hopes, ties, schemes, views ; to vio- 
 late in her favour every duty of society ; — 
 this is a lover, and this is love ! Magnificent, 
 sublime, divine sentiment ! An immortal flame 
 burns in the breast of that man who adores and 
 is adored. He is an ethereal being. The 
 accidents of earth touch him not. Revolutions 
 of empire, changes of creed, mutations of 
 opinion, are to him but the clouds and meteors 
 of a stormy sky. The schemes and struggles of 
 mankind are, in his thinking, but the anxieties of
 
 A LOVE STORY. 161 
 
 pigmies, and the fantastical achievements of apes. 
 Nothing can subdue him. He laughs alike at 
 loss of fortune, loss of friends, loss of character. 
 The deeds and thoughts of men are to him 
 equally indifferent. He does not mingle in 
 their paths of callous bustle, or hold himself 
 responsible to the airy impostures before which 
 they bow down. He is a mariner, who, in the 
 sea of life, keeps his gaze fixedly on a single 
 star ; and, if that do not shine, he lets go the 
 rudder, and glories when his barque descends 
 into the bottomless gulf. 
 
 Yes ! it was this mighty passion that now 
 raged in the heart of Ferdinand Armine, as 
 pale, trembling, panting, he withdrew a few 
 paces from the overwhelming spectacle, and 
 leant against a tree in a chaos of emotion. 
 What had he seen ? What ravishing vision 
 had risen upon his sight ? What did he feel ? 
 What wild, w r hat delicious, what maddening 
 impulse now pervaded his frame ? A storm 
 seemed raging in his soul— a mighty wind, dis-
 
 162 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 pelling in its course the sullen clouds and 
 vapours of long years. He was, indeed, as one 
 possessed, waving his agitated arm to heaven, 
 and stamping with his restless foot upon the 
 uncongenial earth. Silent he was, indeed, for 
 he was speechless ; though the big drop that 
 quivered on his brow, and the slight foam that 
 played upon his lip, proved the difficult triumph 
 of passion over expression. But, as the wind 
 clears the heaven, passion eventually tranquillises 
 the soul. The tumult of his mind gradually 
 subsided ; the flitting memories, the scudding 
 thoughts, that for a moment had coursed about 
 in such wild order, vanished and melted away, 
 and a feeling of bright serenity succeeded, a 
 sense of beauty and of joy, and of hovering 
 and circumambient happiness. 
 
 He advanced, he gazed again ; the lady was 
 still there. Changed, indeed, her position ; her 
 front was towards him. She had gathered a 
 flower, and was examining its beauty. 
 
 " Henrietta ! " exclaimed a manly voice from
 
 A LOVE STORY. 163 
 
 the adjoining wood. Before she could answer, 
 a stranger came forward, a man of middle age, 
 but of an appearance remarkably prepossessing. 
 He was tall and dignified, fair, with a very 
 aquiline nose. One of Ferdinand's dogs fol- 
 lowed him barking. 
 
 " I cannot find the gardener anywhere," said 
 the stranger ; " I think we had better re- 
 mount." 
 
 " Ah, me ! what a pity ! " exclaimed the lady. 
 
 " Let me be your guide," said Ferdinand, 
 advancing. 
 
 The lady rather started; the gentleman, not . 
 at all discomposed, welcomed Ferdinand with 
 great elegance, and said, " I feel that we are 
 intruders, sir. But we were informed by the 
 woman at the lodge that the family were not 
 here at present, and that we should find her 
 husband in the grounds." 
 
 " The family are not at Armine," replied 
 Ferdinand ; " I am sure, however, Sir Ratcliffe 
 would be most happy for you to walk about the
 
 164 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 grounds as much as you please ; and, as I am 
 well acquainted with them, I should feel 
 delighted to be your guide." 
 
 " You are really too courteous, sir," replied 
 the gentleman ; and his beautiful companion re- 
 warded Ferdinand with a smile like a sunbeam, 
 that played about her countenance till it finally 
 settled into two exquisite dimples, and revealed 
 to him rows of teeth that, for a moment, he 
 believed to be even the most beautiful feature 
 of that surpassing visage. 
 
 They sauntered along, every step developing 
 new beauties in their progress, and eliciting from 
 his companions renewed expressions of rapture. 
 The dim bowers, the shining glades, the tall 
 rare trees, the luxuriant shrubs, the silent and 
 sequestered lake, in turn enchanted them, until, 
 at length, Ferdinand, who had led them with 
 experienced taste through all the most striking 
 points of the pleasaunce, brought them before 
 the walls of the castle. 
 
 "And here is Armine Castle ;" he said, " it is
 
 A LOVE STORY. 165 
 
 little better than a shell, and yet contains some- 
 thing which you might like to see." 
 
 " Oh ! by all means," exclaimed the lady. 
 
 M But we are spoiling your sport," suggested 
 the gentleman. 
 
 u I can always kill partridges," replied Ferdi- 
 nand, laying down his gun ; " but I cannot 
 always find agreeable companions." 
 
 So saying, he opened the massy portal of 
 the castle, and they entered the hall. It was 
 a lofty chamber, of dimensions large enough to 
 feast a thousand vassals, with a dais and a rich 
 Gothic screen, and a gallery for the musicians. 
 The walls were hung with arms and armour 
 admirably arranged ; but the parti- coloured 
 marble floor was so covered with piled-up cases 
 of furniture, that the general effect of the scene 
 was not only greatly marred, but it was even 
 difficult in some parts to trace a path. 
 
 " Here," said Ferdinand, jumping upon a 
 huge case, and running to the wall, " here is 
 the standard of Ralph D'Ermyn, who came
 
 166 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 over with the Conqueror, and founded the 
 family in England. Here is the sword of 
 William D'Armyn, who signed Magna Charta. 
 Here is the complete coat armour of the second 
 Ralph, who died before Ascalon. This case 
 contains a diamond-hilted sword, given by the 
 Empress to the great Sir Ferdinand, for de- 
 feating the Turks; and here is a Mameluke 
 sabre, given to the same Sir Ferdinand by the 
 Sultan, for defeating the Empress." 
 
 " Oh ! I have heard so much of that great 
 Sir Ferdinand," said the lady, " I think he 
 must have been the most interesting character 
 that ever existed." 
 
 " He was a marvellous being," answered her 
 guide, with a peculiar look, " and yet I know 
 not whether his descendants have not cause to 
 rue his genius." 
 
 " Oh ! never, never ! " said the lady ; " what 
 is wealth to genius ? How much prouder, were 
 I an Armine, should I be of such an ancestor 
 than of a thousand others, even if they had
 
 A LOVE STORY. 167 
 
 left me this castle as complete as he wished it 
 to be ! " 
 
 " Well, as to that," replied Ferdinand, " I 
 believe I am somewhat of your opinion ; though 
 I fear he lived in too late an age for such order 
 of minds. It would have been better for him, 
 perhaps, if he had succeeded in becoming King 
 of Poland." 
 
 " I hope there is a portrait of him,*'' said the 
 lady ; " there is nothing I long so much to see. 
 I feel quite in love with the great Sir Ferdi- 
 nand." 
 
 " I rather think there is a portrait," replied 
 her companion somewhat drily. " We will try 
 to find it out. Do not you think I make 
 an excellent cicerone ? " 
 
 " Indeed most excellent," replied the lady. 
 
 " I perceive you are master of your subject," 
 replied the gentleman, thus affording Ferdinand 
 an easy opportunity of telling them who he was. 
 The hint, however, was not accepted. 
 
 " And now," said Ferdinand, " we will ascend 
 the staircase."
 
 168 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 Accordingly they mounted a large spiral stair- 
 case, which indeed filled the space of a round 
 tower, and was lighted from the top by a lan- 
 tern of rich coloured glass, on which were em- 
 blazoned the arms of the family. Then they 
 entered the vestibule, — an apartment spacious 
 enough for a saloon ; which, however, was not 
 fitted up in the Gothic style, but of which the 
 painted ceiling, the gilded panels, and inlaid 
 floor, were more suitable indeed to a French 
 palace. The brilliant doors of this vestibule 
 opened in many directions upon long suites of 
 state chambers, which indeed merited the 
 description of shells. They were nothing more : 
 of many the flooring was not even laid down ; 
 the walls of all were rough and plastered. 
 
 " Ah !" said the lady, " what a pity it is not 
 finished !" 
 
 " It is indeed desolate," observed Ferdinand, 
 " but here perhaps is something more to your 
 taste." So saying he opened another door, and 
 ushered them into the picture gallery.
 
 A LOVE STORY. 169 
 
 It was a superb chamber, nearly two hundred 
 feet in length, and contained only portraits of 
 the family, or pictures of their achievements. 
 It was of a pale green colour, lighted from the 
 top ; and the floor, of oak and ebony, was partially 
 covered with a single Persian carpet, of the most 
 fanciful pattern and brilliant dye, a present from 
 the Sultan to the great Sir Ferdinand. The 
 earlier annals of the family were illustrated by a 
 series of paintings, by modern masters, repre- 
 senting the battle of Hastings, the siege of 
 Ascalon, the meeting at . Runnymede, the 
 various invasions of France, and some of the 
 most striking incidents in the wars of the Roses, 
 in all of which a valiant Armyn prominently 
 figured. At length they stood before the first 
 cotemporary portrait of the Armyn family, one 
 of Cardinal Stephen Armyn, by an Italian mas- 
 ter. This great dignitary was legate of the 
 Pope in the time of the seventh Henry, and in 
 his scarlet robes and ivory chair, looked a Papal 
 Jupiter, not unworthy himself of wielding the 
 
 vol. I. I
 
 170 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 thunder of the Vatican. From him the series of 
 family portraits was unbroken ; and it was very 
 interesting to trace, in this excellently arranged 
 collection, the history of national costume. Hol- 
 bein had commemorated the Lords Tewkesbury 
 rich in velvet, and golden chains, and jewels. 
 The statesmen of Elizabeth and James, and 
 their beautiful and gorgeous dames, followed ; 
 and then came many a gallant cavalier by Van- 
 dyke. One admirable picture contained Lord 
 Armine and his brave brothers? seated together 
 in a tent round a drum, on which his Lordship 
 was apparently planning the operations of the 
 campaign. Then followed a long series of unme- 
 morable baronets, and their more interesting 
 wives and daughters, touched by the pencil of 
 Kneller, of Lely, or of Hudson ; squires in wigs 
 and scarlet jackets, and powdered dames in 
 hoops and farthingales. 
 
 They stood before the crowning effort of the 
 room, the masterpiece of Reynolds. It repre- 
 sented a full-length portrait of a young man,
 
 A LOVE STORY. 171 
 
 apparently just past his minority. The side of 
 the figure was alone exhibited, and the face 
 glanced at the spectator over the shoulder, in a 
 favourite position of Vandyke. It was a coun- 
 tenance of ideal beauty. A profusion of dark 
 brown curls was dashed aside from a lofty fore- 
 head of dazzling brilliancy. The face was per- 
 fectly oval; the nose, though small, was high 
 and aquiline, and exhibited a remarkable dila- 
 tion of the nostril ; the curling lip was shaded by 
 a very delicate mustachio ; and the general 
 expression, indeed, of the mouth and of the large 
 grey eyes, would have been perhaps arrogant 
 and imperious, had not the extraordinary 
 beauty of the whole countenance rendered it 
 fascinating. 
 
 It was indeed a picture to gaze upon and to 
 return to ; one of those visages, which, after 
 having once beheld, haunt us at all hours, and 
 flit across our mind's eye unexpected and unbid- 
 den. So great indeed was the effect that it pro- 
 duced upon the present visiters to the gallery, 
 
 i 2
 
 172 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 that they stood before it for some minutes in 
 silence ; the scrutinizing glance of the gentleman 
 indeed was more than once diverted from the 
 portrait to the countenance of his conductor, and 
 the silence was eventually broken by our hero. 
 
 " And what think you," he inquired, " of the 
 famous Sir Ferdinand ? " 
 
 The lady started, looked at him, withdrew 
 her glance, and appeared somewhat confused. 
 Her companion replied, " I think, sir, I cannot 
 err in believing that I am indebted for much 
 courtesy to his descendant." 
 
 " I believe," said Ferdinand, laughing, " that 
 I should not have much trouble in proving my 
 pedigree. I am generally considered an ugly 
 likeness of my grandfather.'* 
 
 The gentleman smiled, and then said, " I 
 hardly know whether I can style myself your 
 neighbour, for I live nearly ten miles distant. 
 It would, however, afford me sincere gratification 
 to see you at Ducie Bower. I cannot welcome 
 you in a castle. My name is Temple,"' he con-
 
 A LOVE STORY. 173 
 
 tinued, offering his card to Ferdinand, " I need 
 not now introduce you to my daughter. I was 
 not unaware that Sir Ratcliffe Armine had a son, 
 but I had understood that he was abroad.'" 
 
 " I have returned to England within these 
 two months," replied Ferdinand, " and to Ar- 
 mine within these two days. I deem it fortunate 
 that my return has afforded me an opportunity 
 of welcoming you and Miss Temple. But you 
 must not talk of our castle, for that you knovv is 
 our folly. Pray come now and visit our older 
 and humbler dwelling; and take some refresh- 
 ment after your long ride.' 1 
 
 This offer was declined, but with great 
 courtesy. They quitted the castle, and Mr. 
 Temple was about to direct his steps towards 
 the lodge, where he had left his own and his 
 daughter's horses ; but Ferdinand persuaded 
 them to return through the park, which he 
 proved to them very satisfactorily must be the 
 nearest way. He even asked permission to 
 accompany them ; and, while his groom Mas
 
 174 HENRIETTA TKMPLE. 
 
 saddling his horse, he led them to the old Place, 
 and the flower garden. 
 
 " You must be very fatigued, Miss Temple. 
 I wish that I could persuade you to enter and 
 rest yourself." 
 
 " Indeed, no : I love flowers too much to leave 
 them." 
 
 <4> Here is one that has the recommendation of 
 novelty as well as beauty," said Ferdinand, 
 plucking a strange rose, and presenting it to 
 her. "I sent it to my mother from Bar- 
 bary. " 
 
 " You live amidst beauty." 
 
 " I think that I never remember Armine 
 looking so well as to-day." 
 
 " A sylvan scene requires sunshine," replied 
 Miss Temple. " We have, indeed, been most 
 fortunate in our visit." 
 
 " It is something brighter than the sunshine 
 that makes it so fair," replied Ferdinand ; but 
 at this moment the horses appeared.
 
 A LOVE STORY. 175 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 IN WHICH CAPTAIN ARMINE IS VERY ABSENT 
 DURING DINNER. 
 
 li You are well mounted," said Mr. Temple 
 to Ferdinand. 
 
 " 'Tis a barb — I brought it over with me." 
 
 " Tis a beautiful creature,'' said Miss 
 Temple. 
 
 " Hear that, Selim," said Ferdinand ; " prick 
 up thine ears, my steed. I perceive that you 
 are an accomplished horsewoman, Miss Temple. 
 You know our country, I dare say, well ?" 
 
 " I wish to know it better. This is only the 
 second summer that we have passed at Ducie." 
 
 " By the bye, I suppose you know my land- 
 lord, Captain Armine ?" said Mr. Temple. 
 
 " No, r said Ferdinand; " I do not kno
 
 176 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 single person in the county. 1 have myself 
 scarcely been at Armine for these five years, and 
 my father and mother do not visit any one." 
 
 " What a beautiful oak !" exclaimed Miss 
 Temple, desirous of turning the conversation. 
 
 " It has the reputation of being planted by 
 Sir Francis Walsingham," said Ferdinand. " An 
 ancestor of mine married his daughter. He was 
 the father of Sir Walsingham, the portrait in 
 the gallery with the white stick. You remember 
 it ? n 
 
 " Perfectly : that beautiful portrait ! It must 
 be, at all events, a very old tree." 
 
 " There are few things more pleasing to me 
 than an ancient place/' said Mr. Temple. 
 
 " Doubly pleasing when in the possession of 
 an ancient family," added his daughter. 
 
 " I fear such feelings are fast wearing away," 
 said Ferdinand. 
 
 " There will be a re-action," said Mr. 
 Temple. 
 
 " They cannot destroy the poetry of Time," 
 said the lady.
 
 A LOVE STORY, 177 
 
 u I hope I have no very inveterate preju- 
 dices," said Ferdinand ; " but I should be sorry 
 to see Armine in any other hands than our own, 
 I confess.*" 
 
 " I never would enter the park again," said 
 Miss Temple. 
 
 " As far as worldly considerations are con- 
 cerned," continued Ferdinand, " it would, per- 
 haps, be much better for us if we were to part 
 with it." 
 
 " It must, indeed, be a costly place to keep 
 up," said Mr. Temple. 
 
 " Why, as far as that is concerned," said 
 Ferdinand, " we let the kine rove and the sheep 
 browse where our fathers hunted the stag and 
 flew their falcons. I think if they were to 
 rise from their graves, they would be ashamed 
 of us." 
 
 " Nay !" said Miss Temple, " I think yonder 
 cattle are very picturesque. But the truth is, 
 anything would look well in such a park as this. 
 There is such variety of prospect."" 
 
 i 3
 
 178 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 The park of Armine, indeed, differed very 
 materially from those vamped-up sheep-waiks 
 and ambitious paddocks which are now honoured 
 with the title. It was, in truth, the old chase, 
 and little shorn of its original proportions. It 
 was many miles in circumference, abounding in 
 hill and dale, and offering much variety of 
 appearance. Sometimes it was studded with 
 ancient timber, single trees of extraordinary 
 growth, and rich clumps that seemed coeval 
 with the foundation of the family. Tracts of 
 wild champaign succeeded these, covered with 
 gorse and fern. Then came stately avenues of 
 sycamore or Spanish chestnut, fragments of 
 stately woods, that in old days, doubtless, 
 reached the vicinity of the mansion house. 
 And these were in turn succeeded by modern 
 coverts. 
 
 At length our party reached the gate whence 
 
 Ferdinand had calculated that they should quit 
 the park. He would willingly have accompanied 
 them. He bade them farewell with regret, which
 
 A LOVE STORY. 179 
 
 was softened by the hope expressed by all of a 
 speedy meeting. 
 
 " I wish, Captain Armine," said Miss Temple, 
 " we had your turf to canter home upon. Now, 
 mind you do not get locked up in the picture 
 gallery, by mistake, and forget to come to 
 Ducie.' , 
 
 " That is, indeed, impossible," said Ferdi- 
 nand. 
 
 " By the bye, Captain Armine," said Mr. 
 Temple, " ceremony should scarcely subsist 
 between country neighbours, and certainly we 
 have given you no cause to complain of our 
 reserve. As you are alone at Armine, perhaps 
 you would come over and dine with us to-mor- 
 row. If you can manage to come early, we will 
 see whether we may not contrive to kill a bird 
 together ; and pray remember we can give you a 
 bed, which I think, all things considered, it 
 would be but wise to accept." 
 
 " I accept everything," said Ferdinand 
 smiling ; i( all your offers. Good morning, my 
 dearest Sir; good morning. Miss Temple.' 1
 
 180 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 " Miss Temple, indeed P 1 exclaimed Ferdi- 
 nand, when he had watched them out of sight. 
 " Exquisite, enchanting, adored being ! With- 
 out thee, what is existence ? How dull, how 
 blank does everything even now seem ! It is as 
 if the sun had just set. Oh ! that form ! that 
 radiant countenance ! that musical and thrilling 
 voice ! Those tones still vibrate on my ear, or I 
 should deem it all a vision ! Will to-morrow 
 ever come ? Oh I that I could express to you 
 my love, my overwhelming, my absorbing, my 
 burning passion ! Beautiful, beautiful Hen- 
 rietta ! Thou hast a name, methinks, I ever 
 loved. Where am I ? — what do I say ? — what 
 wild, what maddening words are these ? Am 
 1 not Ferdinand Armine, the betrothed : the 
 victim ? Even now methinks 1 hear the chariot- 
 wheels of my bride. God ! if she be there— if 
 she indeed be at Armine on my return — 111 not 
 see her — I'll not speak to them — I'll fly. I'll 
 cast to the winds all ties and duties— I will not 
 be dragged to the altar, a miserable sacrifice, to 
 redeem, by my forfeited felicity, the worldly
 
 A LOVE STORY. 181 
 
 fortunes of my race. O ! Armine, Armine — she 
 would not enter thy walls again, if other blood 
 but mine swayed thy fair demesne: and I, shall 
 I give thee another mistress, Armine ? it would 
 indeed be treason ! Without her I cannot live. 
 Without her form bounds over this turf, and 
 glances in these arbours, I never wish to view 
 them. All the inducements to make the 
 wretched sacrifice once meditated then vanish ; 
 for Armine, without her, is a desert — a tomb — a 
 
 hell. I am free, then. Excellent logician ! 
 
 j © 
 
 But this woman — I am bound to her. Bound ? 
 
 The word makes me tremble. I shiver : I hear 
 
 the clank of my fetters. Am I, indeed, bound ? 
 
 Ay ! in honour. Honour and Love ! A contest ! 
 
 Pah ! The Idol must yield to the Divinity ! " 
 
 With these wild words and wilder thoughts 
 
 © 
 
 bursting from his lips and dashing through his 
 mind ; his course as irregular, and as reckless as 
 his fancies ; now fiercely galloping, now break- 
 ing into a sudden halt, Ferdinand at length 
 arrived at home ; and his quick eye perceived
 
 182 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 in a moment that the dreaded arrival had not 
 taken place. Glastonbury was in the flower- 
 garden, on one knee before a vase, over which 
 he was training a creeper. He looked up as he 
 heard the approach of Ferdinand. His presence 
 and benignant smile in some degree stilled the 
 fierce emotions of his pupil. Ferdinand felt 
 that the system of dissimulation must now com- 
 mence ; besides, he was always careful to be 
 most kind to Glastonbury. He would not allow 
 that any attack of spleen, or even illness, could 
 ever justify a careless look or expression to that 
 dear friend. 
 
 " I hope, my dear father, " said Ferdinand, 
 " I am punctual to our hour ? " 
 
 " The sun-dial tells me," said Glastonbury, 
 " that you have arrived to the moment ; and I 
 rather think that yonder approaches a summons 
 to our repast. I hope you have past your 
 morning agreeably ? " i 
 
 " If all days would pass as sweet, my father, 
 I should indeed be blessed."
 
 A LOVE STORY. 183 
 
 " I, too, have had a fine morning of it. You 
 must come to-morrow, and see my grand em- 
 blazonry of the Ratcliffe and Armine coats ; 
 I mean it for the Gallery.'* 1 With these words 
 they entered the Place. 
 
 " You do not eat, my child,'"' said Glaston- 
 bury to his companion. 
 
 " I have taken too long a ride, perhaps," said 
 Ferdinand ; who, indeed, was much too excited 
 to have an appetite, and so abstracted that any 
 one but Glastonbury would have long before 
 detected his absence. 
 
 " I have changed my hour to-day," continued 
 Glastonbury, " for the pleasure of dining with 
 you ; and I think to-morrow you had better 
 change your hour, and dine with me." 
 
 c< By the bye, my dear father, you, who 
 know everything, do you happen to know a 
 gentleman of the name of Temple in this 
 neighbourhood ? n 
 
 " I think 1 heard that Mr. Ducie had let 
 the Bower to a gentleman of that name.'"
 
 184 HENRIETTA TEMrLE. 
 
 " Do you know who he is ? " 
 
 " I never asked ; for I feel no interest ex- 
 cept about proprietors, because they enter into 
 my County History. But I think I once heard 
 that this Mr. Temple had been our Minister at 
 some foreign Court. You give me a fine 
 dinner, and eat nothing yourself. This pigeon 
 is very savoury.'" 
 
 " I will trouble you. I think there once was 
 a Henrietta Armine, my father ? " 
 
 " The beautiful creature ! " said Glastonbury, 
 laying down his knife and fork ; " she died 
 young. She was a daughter of Lord Armine, 
 and the Queen, Henrietta Maria, was her god- 
 mother. It grieves me much that we have no 
 portrait of her. She was very fair, her eyes of 
 a sweet light blue. 11 
 
 " Oh! no; dark, my father; dark and deep 
 as the violet." 
 
 " My child, the letter-writer, who mentions 
 her death, describes them as light blue. I know 
 of no other record of her beauty."
 
 A LOVE STORY. 185 
 
 " I wish they had been dark," said Ferdinand, 
 recovering himself; " However, I am glad there 
 was a Henrietta Armine; 'tis a beautiful name." 
 
 " I think that Armine makes any name sound 
 well," said Glastonbury. " No more wine, 
 indeed, my child. Nay ! if I must/ 1 continued 
 he with a most benevolent smile, " I will drink 
 to the health of Miss Grandison ! " 
 
 <6 Ah !*" almost shrieked Ferdinand. 
 
 " My child, what is the matter?" inquired 
 Glastonbury. 
 
 " A gnat, a fly, a wasp ; something stung me. 
 Oh ! pah ! — it is better now," said Ferdinand. 
 
 " Try some remedy," said Glastonbury ; " let 
 me fetch my oil of lilies. 'Tis a specific. 1 ' 
 
 " Oh ! no ; 'tis nothing ; nothing, indeed. A 
 fly, only a fly ; nothing more ; only a venomous 
 fly. Sharp at the moment ; nothing more." 
 
 The dinner was over : they retired to the 
 librarv. Ferdinand walked about the room 
 restless, and moody. At length he bethought 
 himself of the piano, and affecting an anxiety to
 
 186 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 hear some old favourite compositions of Glaston- 
 bury, he contrived to occupy his companion. 
 In time, however, his old tutor invited him to 
 take his violoncello and join him in a concerto. 
 Ferdinand, of course, complied with this invita- 
 tion, but the result was not very satisfactory. 
 After a series of blunders, which were the natu- 
 ral result of his thoughts being occupied on 
 other objects, he was obliged to plead a head- 
 ache, and was glad when he could escape to his 
 chamber. 
 
 Rest, however, no longer awaited him on his 
 old pillow. It was at first delightful to escape 
 from the restraint upon his reverie which he had 
 lately experienced. He leant for an hour over 
 his empty fire-place in mute abstraction. The 
 cold, however, in time drove him to bed, but he 
 could not sleep. His eyes indeed were closed, 
 but the vision of Henrietta Temple was not less 
 apparent to him. He recalled every feature of 
 her countenance, every trait of her conduct, 
 every word indeed that she had expressed.
 
 A LOVE STORY. 187 
 
 The whole series of her observations, from the 
 moment he had first seen her, until the moment 
 they had parted, were accurately repeated, her 
 very tones considered, and her very attitudes 
 pondered over. Many were the hours that he 
 heard strike : he grew restless and feverish. 
 Sleep would not be commanded. He jumped 
 out of bed, he opened the casement, he beheld 
 in the moonlight the Barbary rose-tree of which 
 he had presented her a flower. This consoling 
 spectacle assured him that he had not been, as 
 he had almost imagined, the victim of a dream. 
 He knelt down and invoked all heavenly and 
 earthly blessings on Henrietta Temple and his 
 love. The night air, and the earnest invocation 
 together, cooled his brain, and Nature soon de- 
 livered him exhausted to repose.
 
 188 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 3N WHICH CAPTAIN ARMINE PAYS HIS FIRST 
 VISIT TO DriCIE.. 
 
 Yes! it is the morning. Is it possible ! Shall 
 he again behold her? That form of surpassing 
 beauty, that bright, that dazzling countenance, 
 again are they to bless his entranced vision. 
 Shall he speak to her again? That musical and 
 thrilling voice, shall it again sound and echo in 
 his enraptured ear ! 
 
 Ferdinand had reached Armine so many days 
 before his calculated arrival, that he did not 
 expect his family, and the Grandisons, to arrive 
 for at least a week. What a respite did he not 
 now feel this delay : if ever he could venture to 
 think of the subject at all. He drove it indeed
 
 A LOVE STORY. 189 
 
 from his thoughts. The fascinating present com- 
 pletely engrossed his existence. He waited until 
 the post arrived. It brought no letters; letters 
 now so dreaded ! He jumped upon his horse 
 and galloped towards Ducie. 
 
 Now while our hero directs his course towards 
 the mansion of his beloved, the reader will per- 
 haps not be displeased to learn something more 
 of the lady and her father, than Ferdinand 
 gleaned from the scanty knowledge of Glaston- 
 bury. Mr. Temple was the younger son of a 
 younger branch of a noble family. He inherited 
 no patrimony, but had been educated for the 
 diplomatic service, and the influence of his 
 family had early obtained him very distinguished 
 appointments. He was envoy to a German 
 court, when a change of ministry occasioned his 
 recal, and he retired after a long career of able 
 and assiduous service, comforted by a pension 
 and glorified by a privy-councillorship. He 
 was an acute and accomplished man, practised 
 in the world, with great self-controul, yet de- 
 voted to his daughter, the only offspring of
 
 190 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 a wife whom he had lost early and loved 
 much. Deprived at a very tender age of 
 that parent of whom she would have become 
 peculiarly the charge, Henrietta Temple found 
 in the devotion of her father all that con- 
 solation of which her forlorn state was sus- 
 ceptible. She was not delivered over to the 
 custody of a governess, or to the even less sym- 
 pathetic supervision of relations. Mr. Temple 
 never permitted his daughter to be separated 
 from him ; he cherished her life and he directed 
 her education. Resident in a city which arro- 
 gates to itself, not without justice, the title of 
 the German Athens, his pupil availed herself of 
 all those advantaoes which were offered to her 
 by the instruction of the most skilful professors. 
 Few persons were more accomplished than 
 Henrietta Temple, even at an early age, but her 
 rare accomplishments were not her most remark- 
 able characteristics. Nature, who had accorded 
 to her that extraordinary beauty which we have 
 attempted to describe, had endowed her with 
 great talents, and a soul of sublime temper. I
 
 A LOVE STORY. 191 
 
 was often remarked of Henrietta Temple — and 
 the circumstance may doubtless be in some 
 degree accounted for by the little interference 
 and influence of women in her education — that 
 she never was a girl. She expanded at once 
 from a charming child into a magnificent woman. 
 She had entered life very early, and had pre- 
 sided at her father's table for a year before his 
 recal from his mission. Few women, in so short 
 a period, had received so much homage : but she 
 listened to compliments with a careless, though 
 courteous ear, and received more ardent aspira- 
 tions with a smile. The men, who were puzzled, 
 voted her cold and heartless; but men should 
 remember that fineness of taste, as well as apathy 
 of temperament, may account for an unsuccessful 
 suit. Assuredly Henrietta Temple was not 
 deficient in feeling. She entertained for her 
 father sentiments almost of idolatry : and those 
 more intimate or dependent acquaintances best 
 qualified to form an opinion of her character, 
 spoke of her's always as a soul gushing with
 
 192 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 tenderness. Notwithstanding their mutual de- 
 votion to each other, there were not many 
 points of resemblance between the characters 
 of Mr. Temple and his daughter — for she was 
 remarkable for a frankness of demeanour 
 and a simplicity, yet strength, of thought 
 which remarkably contrasted with the artifi- 
 cial manners, and the conventional opinions 
 and conversation of her sire. A mind at once 
 thoughtful and energetic, permitted Henrietta 
 Temple to form her own judgments ; and an 
 artless candour, which her father never could 
 eradicate from her habit, generally impelled her 
 to express them. It was, indeed, impossible even 
 for him long to find fault with these ebullitions, 
 however the diplomatist might deplore them ; for 
 nature had so imbued the existence of this being 
 with that indefinable charm which we call 
 grace, that it was not in your power to behold 
 her a moment without being enchanted. A 
 glance, a movement, a sunny smile, a word of 
 thrilling music, and all that was left to you was
 
 A LOVE STORY. 193 
 
 to adore. There was, indeed, in Henrietta 
 Temple that rare and extraordinary combi- 
 nation of intellectual strength, and physical 
 softness, which marks out the woman capable of 
 exercising an irresistible influence over mankind. 
 In the good old days, she might have occasioned 
 a siege of Troy or a battle of Actium. She was 
 one of those women who make nations mad, and 
 for whom a man of genius would willingly peril 
 the empire of the world ! 
 
 So, at least, deemed Ferdinand Armine, as he 
 cantered through the park, talking to himself, 
 apostrophising the woods, and shouting his pas- 
 sion to the winds. It was scarcely noon when 
 he reached Ducie Bower. This was a Palla- 
 dian pavilion, situate in the midst of the most 
 beautiful gardens, and surrounded by greeu 
 hills. The sun shone brightly, the sky was 
 without a cloud ; it appeared to him that he had 
 never beheld a more elegant and sparkling 
 scene. It was a temple worthy of the divinity 
 it enshrined. A facade of four Ionic columns 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 fronted an octagon hall, adorned with statues, 
 which led into a saloon of considerable size 
 and exquisite proportion. Ferdinand thought 
 that he had never in his life entered so brilliant 
 a chamber. The lofty walls were covered with 
 an Indian paper of vivid fancy, and adorned 
 with several pictures, which his practised eye 
 assured him were of great merit. The room, 
 without being inconveniently crowded, was 
 amply stored with furniture, every article of 
 which bespoke a refined and luxurious taste: 
 easy chairs of all descriptions, most inviting- 
 couches, cabinets of choice inlay, and grotesque 
 tables covered with articles of virtu ; all those 
 charming infinite nothings, which a person of 
 taste might some time back have easily collected 
 during a long residence on the continent. A 
 large lamp of Dresden china was suspended 
 from the painted and gilded ceiling. The three 
 tall windows opened on the gardens, and admit- 
 ted a perfume so rich and various, that Ferdi- 
 nand could easily believe the fair mistress, as she
 
 A LOVE STORY. 195 
 
 told him, was indeed a lover of flowers. A 
 
 light bridge in the distant wood that bounded 
 the furthest lawn, indicated that a stream was at 
 hand. What with the beauty of the chamber, 
 the richness of the exterior scene, and the bright 
 sun that painted every object with its magical 
 colouring, and made every thing appear even 
 more fair and brilliant, Ferdinand stood for 
 some moments quite entranced. A door opened, 
 and Mr. Temple came forward and welcomed 
 him with great cordialitv. 
 
 After they had passed a half hour in looking 
 at the pictures and in conversation to which they 
 gave rise, Mr. Temple, proposing an adjourn- 
 ment to luncheon, opened a door exactly opposite 
 to the one by which he had entered, and con- 
 ducted Ferdinand into a dining room, of which 
 the suitable decoration wonderfully pleased his 
 taste. A subdued tint pervaded every part of 
 the chamber: the ceiling was painted in grey 
 tinted frescos of a classical and festive character, 
 and the side table, which stood in a recess sup- 
 K 2
 
 19G HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 ported by four magnificent columns, was adorned 
 with very choice Etruscan vases. The air of 
 repose and stillness, which distinguished this 
 apartment, was heightened by the vast con- 
 servatory into which it led, blazing with light 
 and beauty, rows of orange trees in bloom, 
 clusters of exotic plants of radiant tint, the 
 sound of a fountain, and gorgeous forms of 
 tropic birds. 
 
 " How beautiful ! " exclaimed Ferdinand. 
 
 " 'Tis pretty, 11 said Mr. Temple, carving a 
 
 pasty, " but we are very humble people, and 
 
 cannot vie with the Lords of Gothic castles. 1 ' 
 " It appears to me," said Ferdinand, " that 
 
 Ducie Bower is the most exquisite place I ever 
 
 beheld." 
 
 " If you had seen it two years ago, you would 
 
 have thought differently, " said Mr. Temple ; 
 
 M I assure you I dreaded becoming its tenant. 
 
 Henrietta is entitled to all the praise, as she 
 
 took upon herself the whole responsibility. 
 
 There is not on the banks of the Brenta a more
 
 A LOVE STORY. 197 
 
 dingy and desolate villa than Ducie appeared 
 when we first came ; and as for the gardens, they 
 were a perfect wilderness. She made everything. 
 It was one vast, desolate and neglected lawn, 
 used as a sheep-walk when we arrived. 
 As for the ceilings, I was almost tempted to 
 whitewash them, and yet you see they have 
 cleaned wonderfully ; and after all it only 
 required a little taste and labour. I have not 
 laid out much monev here. I built the conser- 
 vatory, to be sure. Henrietta could not live 
 without a conservatory." 
 
 " Miss Temple is quite right,"" pronounced 
 Ferdinand. " It is impossible to live without 
 
 a conservatorv." 
 
 j 
 
 At this moment the heroine of their conversa- 
 tion entered the room, and Ferdinand turned 
 pale as death. She extended to him her hand 
 with a most graceful smile ; as he touched it, he 
 trembled from head to foot. 
 
 " You were not fatigued, I hope, by your ride, 
 Miss Temple," at length he contrived to say.
 
 198 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 u Oh, no ! not in the least ! I am an ex- 
 perienced horsewoman. Papa and I take the 
 longest rides together. 1 ' 
 
 As for eating with Henrietta Temple in the 
 room, Ferdinand found that quite impossible. 
 The moment she appeared, his appetite vanished. 
 Anxious to speak, yet deprived of his accustomed 
 fluency, he began to praise Ducie. 
 
 " You must see it," said Miss Temple, "shall 
 we walk round the grounds ? M 
 
 " My dear Henrietta,'* said her father, 
 " I dare say Captain Armine is at this moment 
 sufficiently tired ; besides, when he moves, he 
 will like, perhaps, to take his gun; you forget 
 he is a sportsman, and that he cannot waste 
 his morning in talking to ladies and picking 
 flowers. 51 
 
 *< Oh ! indeed, Sir, I assure you," said Ferdi- 
 nand, " there is nothing I like so much as 
 talking to ladies, and picking flowers ; that is to 
 say, when the ladies have as fine taste as Miss 
 Temple, and the flowers are as beautiful as those 
 at Ducie."
 
 A LOVE STORY. 199 
 
 " Well, you shall see my conservatory, Cap- 
 tain Armine," said Miss Temple, " and you shall 
 go and kill partridges afterwards." So saying, 
 she entered the conservatory, and Ferdinand 
 followed her, leaving Mr. Temple to his 
 pasty. 
 
 " These orange groves remind me of Paler- 
 mo," said Ferdinand. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Miss Temple, " I have never 
 been in the sweet south ! " 
 
 " You seem to me a person born to live in a 
 Sicilian palace," said Ferdinand, " to wander in 
 perfumed groves, and to glance in a moonlight 
 warmer than this sun." 
 
 " I see you pay compliments," said Miss 
 Temple, looking at him archly, and meeting a 
 glance serious and soft. 
 
 " Believe me, not to vou." 
 
 " What do you think of this flower?" said 
 Miss Temple, turning away rather quickly and 
 pointing to a strange plant. i( It is the most 
 singular thing in the world ; but if it be tended
 
 200 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 by any other person than myself, it withers 
 Is it not droll ? " 
 
 " I think not," said Ferdinand. 
 " I excuse you for your incredulity ; no one 
 does believe it ; no one can ; and yet it is quite 
 true. Our gardener gave it up in despair. 
 I wonder what it can be." 
 
 " I think it must be some enchanted Prince," 
 said Ferdinand. 
 
 " Oh ! if I thought so, how I should long for 
 a wand to emancipate him ! " said Miss Temple. 
 " I would break your wand, if you had one," 
 said Ferdinand. 
 
 " Why ? " said Miss Temple. 
 " Oh ! I don't know," said Ferdinand, M I 
 suppose because I believe you are sufficiently 
 enchanting without one." 
 
 " I am bound to consider that most excellent 
 logic," said Miss Temple. 
 
 " Do you admire my fountain and my birds? " 
 she continued, after a short pause. "After 
 Armine, Ducie appears a little tawdry toy."
 
 A LOVE STORY. 201 
 
 " Ducie is Paradise," said Ferdinand. " I 
 should like to pass my life in this conserva- 
 tory." 
 
 " As an enchanted Prince, I suppose," said 
 Miss Temple. 
 
 " Exactly," said Captain Armine, " I would 
 willingly this instant become a flower, if I were 
 sure that Miss Temple would cherish my 
 existence.''' 
 
 " Cut off your tendrils, and drown you with 
 a watering pot," said Miss Temple, M you 
 really are very Sicilian in your conversation, 
 Captain Armine.' 1 
 
 " Come,"" said Mr. Temple, who now joined 
 them, Ci if you really should like to take a stroll 
 round the grounds, I will order the keeper to 
 meet us at the cottage." 
 
 " A very excellent proposition," said Miss 
 Temple. 
 
 " But you must get a bonnet, Henrietta — I 
 must forbid your going out uncovered." 
 
 " No, Papa, this will do,' 1 said Miss Temple, 
 
 k 3
 
 202 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 taking a handkerchief, twisting it round her 
 head, and tying it under her chin. 
 
 " You look like an old woman, Henrietta," 
 said her father, smiling. 
 
 " I shall not say what you look like, Miss 
 Temple," said Captain Armine, with a glance 
 of admiration, "lest you should think that I was 
 this time even talking Sicilian. " 
 
 " I reward you for your forbearance with a 
 rose," said Miss Temple, plucking a flower. 
 " It is a return for your beautiful present of 
 yesterday." 
 
 Ferdinand pressed the gift to his lips. 
 
 They went forth ; they stepped into a Para- 
 dise, where the sweetest flowers seemed grouped 
 in every combination of the choicest forms — 
 baskets, and vases, and beds of infinite fancy. 
 A thousand bees and butterflies filled the air 
 with their glancing shapes and cheerful music, 
 and the birds from the neighbouring groves 
 joined in the chorus of melody. The wood 
 walks through which they now rambled, ad-
 
 A LOVE STORY. 203 
 
 mitted at intervals glimpses of the ornate land- 
 scape, and occasionally the view extended 
 beyond the enclosed limits, and exhibited the 
 clustering and embowered roofs of the neigh- 
 bouring village, or some woody hill studded 
 with a farm house, or a distant spire. As for 
 Ferdinand, he strolled along, full of beautiful 
 thoughts and thrilling fancies, in a dreamy state 
 which had banished all recollection or con- 
 sciousness but of the present. He was happy ; 
 positively, perfectly, supremely, happy. He 
 was happy for the first time in his life. He had 
 no conception that life could afford such bliss as 
 now filled his being. What a chain of miser- 
 able, tame, factitious sensations seemed the 
 whole course of his past existence. Even the 
 joys of yesterday were nothing to these ; Armine 
 was associated with too much of the common- 
 place, and the gloomy, to realise the ideal 
 in which he now reveled. But now all circum- 
 stances contributed to enchant him. The no- 
 velty, the beauty of the scene, harmoniously 
 blended with his passion. The sun seemed to
 
 204 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 him a more brilliant sun than the orb that 
 illumined Armine; the sky more clear, more 
 pure, more odorous. There seemed a magic 
 sympathy in the trees, and every flower remind- 
 ed him of its mistress. And then he looked 
 around, and beheld her. Was he positively 
 awake? Was he in England ? Was he in the 
 same globe in which he had hitherto moved and 
 acted ? What was this entrancing form that 
 moved before him ? Was it indeed a woman ? 
 
 O ! dea certe ! 
 That voice, too, now wilder than the wildest 
 bird, now low and hushed, yet always sweet — 
 where was he, what did he listen to, what did 
 he behold, what did he feel ? The presence of 
 her father alone restrained him from falling on 
 his knees and expressing to her his adoration. 
 
 At length our friends arrived at a picturesque 
 and ivy-grown cottage, where the keeper with 
 their guns and dogs awaited Mr. Temple and 
 his guest. Ferdinand, although a keen sportsman, 
 beheld the spectacle with dismay. ; He execrated, 
 at the same time, the existence of partridges,
 
 A LOVE STORY. 205 
 
 and the invention of gunpowder. To resist his 
 fate, however, was impossible ; he took his gun 
 and turned to bid his hostess adieu. 
 
 " I do not like to quit Paradise at all,' 1 he said 
 in a low voice, " must I go ? " 
 
 " Oh ! certainly;' said Miss Temple. " It 
 will do you a great deal of good. Take care 
 you do not shoot Papa, for, somehow or other, 
 you really appear to be very absent to-day."' 
 
 The caution of Miss Temple, although given 
 in jest, was not altogether without some founda- 
 tion. Captain Armine did contrive not to kill 
 her father, but that was all. Never did any one, 
 especially for the first hour, shoot more wildly. 
 In time, however, Ferdinand sufficiently rallied 
 to recover his reputation with the keeper, who 
 from his first observation began to wink his eye 
 to his son, an attendant bush-beater, and occa- 
 sionally even thrust his tongue inside his cheek — 
 a significant gesture perfectly understood by 
 the imp. " For the life of me, Sam," he 
 afterwards profoundly observed, " I couldn't 
 make out this here Captain by no manner of
 
 206 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 means whatsomever. At first I thought as how- 
 he was going to put the muzzle to his shoulder. 
 Hang me, if ever I see sich a gentleman. He 
 missed every thing; and at last if he didn't hit 
 the longest flying shots without taking aim. Hang 
 me, if ever I see sich a gentleman. He hit every 
 thing. That ere Captain puzzled me, surely." 
 
 The party at dinner was increased by a neigh- 
 bouring Squire and his wife, and the rector of 
 the parish. Ferdinand was placed at the right 
 hand of Miss Temple. The more he beheld 
 her, the more beautiful she seemed. He detected 
 every moment some charm before unobserved. 
 It seemed to him that he never was in such 
 agreeable society, though, sooth to say, the con- 
 versation was not of a very brilliant charac- 
 ter. Mr. Temple recounted the sport of the 
 morning to the Squire, whose ears kindled at a 
 congenial subject, and every preserve in the 
 county was then discussed, with some episodes 
 on poaching. The Rector, an old gentleman, who 
 had dined in old days at Armine Place, reminded 
 Ferdinand of the agreeable circumstance, san-
 
 A LOVE STORY. 207 
 
 guine, perhaps, that the invitation might lead to 
 a renewal of his acquaintance with that hospi- 
 table board. He was painfully profuse in his 
 description of the public days of the famous Sir 
 Ferdinand. From the service of plate to the 
 thirty servants in livery, nothing was omitted. 
 
 * Our friend deals in Arabian tales," whispered 
 Ferdinand to Miss Temple ; " you can be a wit- 
 ness that we live quietly enough now." 
 
 " I shall certainly never forget my visit to 
 Armine," replied Miss Temple; " it was one 
 of the most agreeable days of my life." 
 
 u And that is saying a great deal, for I 
 think your life must have abounded in agree- 
 able days." 
 
 " I cannot, indeed, lay any claim to that misery 
 which makes many people interesting," said Miss 
 Temple; " I am a very common-place person, 
 for I have been always happy." 
 
 When the ladies withdrew, there appeared but 
 little inclination on the part of the Squire and 
 the Rector to follow their example ; and Captain 
 Armine, therefore, soon left Mr. Temple to his
 
 208 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 fate, and escaped to the drawing-room. He 
 glided to a seat on an ottoman, by the side of his 
 hostess, and listened in silence to the conversa- 
 tion. What a conversation ! At any other time, 
 under any other circumstances, Ferdinand would 
 have been teazed and wearied with its common- 
 place current : all the dull detail of county tattle, 
 in which the Squire's lady was a proficient, and 
 with which Miss Temple was too highly bred not 
 to appear to sympathise — and yet the conversa- 
 tion, to Ferdinand, appeared quite charming. 
 Every accent of Henrietta's sounded like wit; 
 and when she bent her head in assent to her com- 
 panion's obvious deductions, there was about each 
 movement a grace so ineffable, that Ferdinand 
 could have sate in silence and listened, entranced, 
 for ever : and, occasionally, too, she turned to 
 Captain Armine, and appealed on some point to 
 his knowledge or his taste. It seemed to him 
 that he had never listened to sounds so sweetly 
 thrilling as her voice. It was a bird-like burst 
 of music, that well became the sparkling sun- 
 shine of her violet eyes.
 
 A LOVE STORY. 209 
 
 His late companions entered. Ferdinand rose 
 from his seat ; the windows of the saloon were 
 open ; he stepped forth into the garden. He felt 
 the necessity of being a moment alone. He pro- 
 ceeded a few paces beyond the ken of man, and. 
 then leaning on a statue,and burying his face in his 
 arm, he gave way to irresistible emotion. What 
 wild thoughts dashed through his impetuous soul 
 at that instant, it is difficult to conjecture. Per- 
 haps it was passion that inspired that convulsive 
 reverie ; perchance it might have been remorse. 
 Did he abandon himself to those novel senti- 
 ments which in a few brief hours had changed 
 all his aspirations, and coloured his whole exist- 
 ence ; or was he tortured by that dark and per- 
 plexing future, from which his imagination in 
 vain struggled to extricate him ? 
 
 He was roused from his reverie, brief but 
 tumultuous, by the note of music, and then by 
 the sound of a human voice. The stag detect- 
 ing the huntsman's horn could not have started 
 with more wild emotion. But one fair organ 
 could send forth that voice. He approached, he
 
 210 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 listened ; the voice of Henrietta Temple floated 
 to him on the air, breathing with a thousand 
 odours. In a moment he was at her side. The 
 Squire's lady was standing by her ; the gentlemen, 
 for a moment arrested from a political discussion, 
 formed a group in a distant part of the room, the 
 rector occasionally venturing in a practised whis- 
 per to enforce a disturbed argument. Ferdinand 
 glided in unobserved by the fair performer. 
 Miss Temple not only possessed a voice of rare 
 tone and compass, but this delightful gift of 
 nature had been cultivated with refined art. 
 Ferdinand, himself a musician, and passionately 
 devoted to vocal melody, listened with un exag- 
 gerated rapture. 
 
 " Oh ! beautiful ! " exclaimed he, as the song- 
 stress ceased. 
 
 " Captain Armine ! " cried Miss Temple, look- 
 ing round with a wild, bewitching smile. u I 
 thought you were meditating in the twilight." 
 
 " Your voice summoned me." 
 
 " You care for music ? " 
 
 " For little else."
 
 A LOVE STORY. 211 
 
 U 
 
 You sing ? " 
 
 ic I hum." 
 
 " Try this." 
 
 " With you ? " 
 
 Ferdinand Armine was not unworthy of sing- 
 ing with Henrietta Temple. His mother had 
 been his able instructress in the art even in his 
 childhood, and his frequent residence at Naples 
 and other parts of the south, had afforded him 
 ample opportunities of perfecting a talent thus 
 early cultivated. But to night the love of some- 
 thing beyond his art inspired the voice of Fer- 
 dinand. Singing with Henrietta Temple, he 
 poured forth to her in safety all the passion 
 which raged in his soul. The Squire's lady 
 looked confused. Henrietta herself grew pale ; 
 the politicians ceased even to whisper, and ad- 
 vanced from their corner to the instrument ; 
 and when the duet was terminated, Mr. Tem- 
 ple offered his sincere congratulations to his 
 guest. Henrietta also turned with some words 
 of commendation to Ferdinand ; but the words 
 were faint and confused, and finally requesting
 
 212 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 Captain Armine to favour them by singing 
 alone, she rose and vacated her seat. 
 
 Ferdinand took up the guitar, and accom- 
 panied himself to a Neapolitan air. It was 
 gay and festive, a Ritornella which might 
 summon your mistress to dance in the moon- 
 light. And then, amid many congratulations, 
 he offered the guitar to Miss Temple. 
 
 " No one will listen to a simple melody 
 after anything so brilliant, " said Miss Temple, 
 as she touched a string, and, after a slight 
 prelude, sang these words : — 
 
 THE DESERTED. 
 
 I. 
 
 Yes ! weeping is madness, 
 
 Aicay with this tear, 
 Let no sign of sadness 
 Betray the wild anguish I fear. 
 When we meet him to night, 
 Be mute then my heart ! 
 And my smile he as bright, 
 As if ice were never to part.
 
 A LOVE STORY. 213 
 
 II. 
 
 Girl ! give me the mirror 
 
 That said I was fair ; 
 Alas I fatal error, 
 This picture reveals my despair. 
 Smiles no longer can fjass 
 
 O'er this faded brow, 
 And I shiver this glass, 
 Like his love and his fragile vow ! 
 
 " The music," said Ferdinand, full of enthu- 
 siasm, "is"" 
 
 " Henrietta's," replied her father. 
 
 " And the words ? "< 
 
 " Were found in my canary's cage," said 
 Henrietta Temple, rising and putting an end to 
 the conversation.
 
 214 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 IN WHICH CAPTAIN ARMINE INDULGES IN A 
 REVERIE. 
 
 The Squire's carriage was announced, and 
 then came his lady's shawl. How happy was 
 Ferdinand, when he recollected that he was to 
 remain at Ducie. Remain at Ducie ! Remain 
 under the same roof as Henrietta Temple. 
 What bliss ! — what ravishing bliss ! All his 
 life — and his had not been a monotonous one, — 
 it seemed that all his life could not afford a 
 situation so adventurous and so sweet as this. 
 Now they have gone. The Squire and his lady, 
 and the worthy rector who recollected Armine 
 so well — they have all departed, all the adieus 
 are uttered ; after this little and unavoidable 
 bustle, silence reigns in the saloon of Ducie. 
 Ferdinand walked to the window. The moon
 
 A LOVE STORY. 215 
 
 was up; the air was sweet and hushed; the 
 landscape clear, though soft. Oh ! what would 
 he not have given to have strolled in that 
 garden with Henrietta Temple, to have poured 
 forth his whole soul to her, to have told her 
 how wondrous fair she was, how wildly 
 bewitching, and how he loved her, how he 
 sighed to bind his fate with hers, and live for 
 ever in the brilliant atmosphere of her grace 
 and beauty. 
 
 " Good night, Captain Armioe," said Hen- 
 rietta Temple. 
 
 He turned hastily round, he blushed, he 
 grew pale. There she stood, in one hand a 
 light, the other extended to her father's guest. 
 He pressed her hand, he sighed, he looked 
 confused ; then suddenly letting go her hand, he 
 walked quickly towards the door of the saloon, 
 which he opened that she might retire. 
 
 " The happiest day of my life has ended," he 
 muttered. 
 
 " You are so easily content, then, that I think 
 you must always be happy."
 
 216 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 " I fear I am not as easily content as you 
 imagine." 
 
 She has gone. Hours, many and long hours, 
 must elapse before he sees her again, before he 
 again listens to that music, watches that airy 
 grace, and meets the bright flashing of that 
 fascinating eye. What misery was there in this 
 idea ? How little had he seemed hitherto to 
 prize the joy of being her companion. He 
 cursed the hours which had been wasted away 
 from her in the morning's sport ; he blamed 
 himself that he had not even sooner quitted the 
 dining-room, or that he had left the saloon for 
 a moment, to commune with his own thoughts 
 in the garden. With difficulty he restrained 
 himself from re-opening the door, to listen for 
 the distant sound of her footsteps, or catch, 
 perhaps, along some corridor, the fading echo 
 of her voice. But Ferdinand was not alone — 
 Mr. Temple still remained. That gentleman 
 raised his face from the newspaper, as Captain 
 Arminc advanced to him ; and, after some
 
 A LOVE STORY. 217 
 
 observations about the day's sport, and a hope 
 that he would repeat his trial of the Ducie 
 preserves to-morrow, proposed their retirement. 
 Ferdinand of course assented, and, in a moment, 
 he was ascending with his host the noble and 
 Italian staircase ; and he then was ushered from 
 the vestibule into his room. 
 
 His previous visit to this chamber had been 
 so hurried, that he had only made a general 
 observation on its appearance. Little inclined 
 to slumber, he" now examined it more criticallv. 
 In a recess was a French bed of simple furni- 
 ture. On the walls, which were covered with a 
 rustic paper, were suspended several drawings, 
 representing views in the Saxon Switzerland. 
 They were so bold and spirited that they 
 arrested attention ; but the quick eye of Fer- 
 dinand instantly detected the initials of the 
 artist in the corner. They were letters that 
 made his heart tremble, as he gazed with 
 admiring fondness on her performances. Be- 
 fore a sofa, covered with a chintz of a corre- 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 sponding pattern with the paper of the walls, 
 was placed a small French table, on which were 
 writing materials ; and his toilette table and his 
 mantel-piece were profusely ornamented with 
 rare flowers ; on all sides were symptoms of 
 female taste and feminine consideration. 
 
 Ferdinand carefully withdrew from his coat 
 the flower that Henrietta had given him in the 
 morning, and which he had worn the whole day. 
 He kissed it, he kissed it more than once ; he 
 pressed its somewhat faded form to his lips with 
 cautious delicacy ; then tending it with the 
 utmost care, he placed it in a vase of water, 
 which holding in his hand, he threw himself into 
 an easy chair, with his eyes fixed on the gift he 
 most valued in the world. 
 
 An hour passed, and Ferdinand Armine 
 remained fixed in the same position. But no 
 one who beheld that beautiful and pensive 
 countenance, and the dreamy softness of that 
 large grey eye, could for a moment conceive 
 that his thoughts were less sweet than the
 
 A LOVE STORY. 219 
 
 object on which they appeared to gaze. No 
 distant recollections disturbed him now, no me- 
 mory of the past, no fear of the future. The 
 delicious present monopolised his existence. 
 The ties of duty, the claims of domestic affec- 
 tion, the worldly considerations that by a cruel 
 dispensation had seemed, as it were, to taint 
 even his innocent and careless boyhood, even the 
 urgent appeals of his critical and perilous situa- 
 tion — all, all were forgotten in one intense 
 delirium of absorbing love. 
 
 Anon he rose from his seat, and paced his 
 room for some minutes, with his eyes fixed on 
 the ground. Then throwing off his clothes, and 
 taking the flower from the vase, which he had 
 previously placed on the table, he deposited it in 
 his bosom. M Beautiful, beloved flower/' ex- 
 claimed he ; " thus, thus will I win and wear 
 your mistress !" 
 
 l 2
 
 220 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 A STRANGE DREAM. 
 
 Restless are the dreams of the lover that is 
 young. Ferdinand Armine started awake from 
 the agony of a terrible slumber. He had been 
 walking in a garden with Henrietta Temple — her 
 hand was clasped in his — her eyes fixed on the 
 ground, as he whispered most delicious words. 
 His face was flushed, his speech panting and low. 
 Gently he wound his vacant arm round her 
 graceful form ; she looked up, her speaking eyes 
 met his, and their trembling lips seemed about to 
 cling into a — 
 
 When lo ! the splendour of the garden faded, 
 and all seemed changed and dim : instead of the 
 beautiful arched walks, in which a moment 
 before they appeared to wander, it was beneath
 
 A LOVE STORY. 221 
 
 the vaulted roof of some temple that they now 
 moved ; instead of the bed of glowing flowers 
 from which he was about to pluck an offering 
 for her bosom, an altar rose, from the centre of 
 ■which upsprang a quick and lurid tongue of fire. 
 The dreamer gazed upon his companion, and 
 her form was tinted with the dusky hue of the 
 flame, and she held to her countenance a scarf, 
 as if oppressed by the unnatural heat. Great 
 fear suddenly came over him. With haste, 
 yet with delicacy, he himself withdrew the 
 scarf from the face of his companion, and this 
 
 movement revealed the visage of Miss 
 
 Grandison. 
 
 Ferdinand Armine awoke and started up m 
 his bed. Before him still appeared the unex- 
 pected figure. He jumped out of the bed — he 
 gazed upon the form with staring eyes and open 
 mouth. She was there — assuredly she was 
 there : it was Katherine — Katherine his be- 
 trothed — sad and reproachful. The figure 
 faded before him ; he advanced with out-
 
 222 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 stretched hand ; in his desperation he deter- 
 mined to clutch the escaping form ; and he 
 found in his grasp his dressing-gown, which he 
 had thrown over the back of a chair. 
 
 (i A dream, and but a dream, after all," he 
 muttered to himself; <( and yet a strange one." 
 
 His brow w r as heated ; he opened the case- 
 ment. It was still night ; the moon had vanished, 
 but the stars were still shining. He recalled 
 with an effort the scene with which he had 
 become acquainted yesterday for the first time. 
 Before him, serene and still, rose the bowers of 
 Ducie. And their mistress ? That angelic form 
 whose hand he had clasped in his dream, was not 
 then merely a shadow. She breathed, she lived, 
 and under the same roof. Henrietta Temple 
 was at this moment under the same roof as him- 
 self : and what were her slumbers ? Were they 
 wild as his own, or sweet and innocent as her- 
 self ? Did his form flit over her closed vision at 
 this charmed hour, as hers had visited his ? Had 
 it been scared away by an apparition as awful ?
 
 A LOVE STORY. 223 
 
 Bore any one to her the same relation as Kathe- 
 riiie Grandison to him ? A fearful surmise, that 
 had occurred to him now for the first time, and 
 which it seemed could never again quit his brain. 
 The stars faded away — the breath of morn was 
 abroad — the chant of birds arose. Exhausted 
 in body and in mind, Ferdinand Armine flung 
 himself upon his bed, and soon was lost in slum- 
 bers undisturbed as the tomb.
 
 224 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 WHICH I HOPE MAY PROVE AS AGREEABLE TO 
 THE READER AS TO OUR HERO. 
 
 Ferdinand's servant, whom he had de- 
 spatched the previous evening to Armine, 
 returned early in the morning with his master's 
 letters ; one from his mother, and one from Miss 
 Grandison. They were all to arrive at the 
 Place on the day after the morrow. Ferdinand 
 opened these epistles with a trembling hand. 
 The sight of Katherine's, his Katherine's, hand- 
 writing was almost as terrible as his dream. 
 It recalled to him, with a dreadful reality, his 
 actual situation which he had driven from his 
 thoughts. He had quitted his family, his family 
 who were so devoted to him, and whom he so 
 loved, happy, nay, triumphant, a pledged and 
 rejoicing bridegroom. What had occurred
 
 A LOVE STORY. 225 
 
 during the last eight and forty hours seemed 
 completely to have changed all his feelings, all 
 his wishes, all his views, all his hopes ? He had 
 in that interval met a single human being, a 
 woman, a girl, a young and innocent girl ; he 
 had looked upon a girl and listened to her voice, 
 and his soul was as changed as the earth by the 
 sunrise. As lying in his bed he read these 
 letters, and mused over their contents, and a-1 
 the thoughts that they suggested, the strange- 
 ness of life, the mystery of human nature, were 
 painfully impressed upon him. His melancholy 
 father, his fond and confiding mother, the 
 devoted Glastonbury, all the mortifying cir- 
 cumstances of his illustrious race, rose in painful 
 succession before him. Nor could he forget his 
 own wretched follies and that fatal visit to Bath, 
 of which the consequences clanked upon his 
 memory like a degrading and disgraceful fetter. 
 The burthen of existence seemed intolerable. 
 That domestic love, which had so solaced his 
 existence, recalled now only the most painful 
 
 l3
 
 226 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 associations. In the wildness of his thoughts, 
 he wished himself alone in the world, to struggle 
 with his fate and mould his fortunes. He felt 
 himself a slave and a sacrifice. He cursed 
 Armine, his ancient house, and his broken 
 fortunes. He felt that death was preferable to 
 life without Henrietta Temple. But even sup- 
 posing that he could extricate himself from his 
 rash engagement ; even admitting that all worldly 
 considerations might be thrown aside, that the 
 pride of his father, and his mother's love, and 
 Glastonbury's pure hopes, might all be outraged ; 
 what chance, what hope, was there of obtaining 
 his great object ? What was he — what was he, 
 Ferdinand Armine, free as the air from the 
 claims of Miss Grandison, with all sense of duty 
 rooted out of his once sensitive bosom, and 
 existing only for the gratification of his own 
 wild fancies ? A beggar, worse than a beggar, 
 without a home, without the possibility of a 
 home to offer the lady of his passion ; nay, not 
 even secure that the harsh process of the law
 
 A LOVE STORY. 227 
 
 might not instantly claim its victim, and he him- 
 self be hurried from the altar to the gaol ! 
 
 Moody and melancholy, he repaired to the 
 saloon, he beheld Henrietta Temple, and the 
 cloud left his brow and lightness came to his 
 heart. Never had she looked so beautiful, so 
 fresh and bright, so like a fair flower with the 
 dew upon its leaves. Her voice penetrated his 
 soul, her sunny smile warmed his breast. Her 
 father greeted him too with kindness, and in- 
 quired after his slumbers, which he assured Mr. 
 Temple had been satisfactory. 
 
 " I find," continued Mr. Temple, " that the 
 post has brought me some business to day which, 
 I fear, claims the morning to transact. But I hope 
 you will not forget your promise to try again our 
 preserves. I fear they are not very rich; but 
 we poor tenants of the soil can scarcely vie with 
 you Lords of the land. The keeper will be 
 ready whenever you summon him." 
 
 Ferdinand muttered something about trouble 
 and intrusion and the expected arrival of his
 
 228 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 family, but Miss Temple pressed him to accept 
 the offer with so much expression that refusal 
 was impossible. 
 
 After breakfast Mr. Temple retired to his 
 library, and Ferdinand found himself alone for 
 the first time with Henrietta Temple. 
 
 She was copying a miniature of Charles the 
 First. Ferdinand looked over her shoulder. 
 
 " A melancholy countenance !" he observed. 
 
 " It is a favourite one of mine, ,, she replied. 
 
 " Yet you are always gay ? " 
 
 " Always." 
 
 " I envy you, Miss Temple."" 
 
 " What, are you melancholy ? " 
 
 u I have every cause." 
 
 " Indeed, I should have thought the reverse." 
 
 " I look upon myself as the most unfortunate 
 of human beings,''' replied Ferdinand. 
 
 He spoke so seriously, in a tone of such deep 
 and bitter feeling, that Miss Temple could not 
 resist looking up at her companion. His coun- 
 tenance was indeed most gloomy.
 
 A LOVE STORY. 229 
 
 " You surprise me," said Miss Temple, " I 
 think that few people ought to be unhappy, and 
 I rather suspect that fewer are than we imagine.*" 
 
 " All I wish is/' replied lie, " that the battle 
 of Newbury had witnessed the extinction of our 
 family as well as our peerage. ,, 
 
 " A peerage, and such a peerage as yours, 
 is a fine thing," said Henrietta Temple, " a 
 very fine thing; but I would not grieve, if I 
 were you, for that ; I would sooner be an Armine 
 without a coronet, than many a brow, I wot of, 
 with." 
 
 "You misconceived a silly phrase," rejoined 
 Ferdinand. " I was not thinking of the loss of 
 our coronet, though that is only part of the 
 system. Our family I am sure are fated. Birth 
 without honour, estates without fortune, life 
 without happiness, that is our lot." 
 
 "As for the first," said Miss Temple, "the 
 honourable are always honoured ; money, in 
 spite of what they say, I feel is not the 
 greatest thing in the world ; and as for misery,
 
 230 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 I confess I do not very readily believe in the 
 misery of youth." 
 
 " May you never prove it," replied Ferdi- 
 nand ; " may you never be, as I am, the victim 
 of family profligacy and family pride. ,, So 
 saying, he turned away, and, taking up a book, 
 for a few minutes seemed wrapped in his 
 reflections. 
 
 He suddenly resumed the conversation in a 
 more cheerful tone. Holding a volume of Pe- 
 trarch in his hand, he touched lightly, but 
 with grace, on Italian poetry ; then diverged 
 into his travels, recounted an adventure with 
 sprightliness, and replied to Miss Temple's 
 lively remarks with gaiety and readiness. The 
 morning advanced ; Miss Temple closed her 
 portfolio, and visited her flowers, inviting him 
 to follow her. Her invitation was scarcely ne- 
 cessary : his movements were regulated by hers ; 
 he was as faithful to her as her shadow. From 
 the conservatory they entered the garden. Fer- 
 dinand was as fond of gardens as his mistress.
 
 A LOVE STORY. 231 
 
 She praised the flower-garden of Armine. He 
 gave her some account of its principal creator. 
 The character of Glastonbury highly interested 
 Miss Temple. Love is confidential ; it has no 
 fear of ridicule ; Ferdinand entered with free- 
 dom, and yet with grace, into family details, from 
 which, at another time and to another person, he 
 would have been the first to shrink. The 
 imagination of Miss Temple was greatly inte- 
 rested by his simple, and, to her, affecting account 
 of this ancient line living in their hereditary 
 solitude, with all their noble pride and haughty 
 poverty. The scene, the circumstances, were all 
 such as please a maiden's fancy ; and he, the 
 natural hero of this singular history, seemed 
 deficient in none of those heroic qualities which 
 the wildest spirit of romance might require for 
 the completion of its spell. Beautiful as his 
 ancestors, and, she was sure, as brave, young, 
 spirited, graceful, and accomplished ; a gay and 
 daring spirit blended with the mournful melody 
 of his voice, and occasionally contrasted with the
 
 232 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 somewhat subdued and chastened character of 
 his demeanour. 
 
 " Well, do not despair," said Henrietta Tem- 
 ple ; " riches did not make Sir Ferdinand happy. 
 I feel confident the house will yet flourish." 
 
 " I have no confidence/' replied Ferdinand ; 
 " I feel the struggle with our fate to be fruitless. 
 Once, indeed, I felt like you ; there was a time 
 when I took even a fancied pride in all the 
 follies of my grandfather. But that is past; I 
 have lived to execrate his memory/'' 
 
 "Hush! hush!" 
 
 " Yes, to execrate his memory ; I repeat, to 
 execrate his memory ; his follies stand between 
 me and my happiness." 
 
 " Indeed, I see not that." 
 
 " May you never ! I cannot disguise from 
 myself that I am a slave, and a wretched one, 
 and that his career has entailed this curse of 
 servitude upon me. But away with this ! You 
 must think me, Miss Temple, the most ego- 
 tistical of human beings, and yet, to do myself
 
 A LOVE STORY. 233 
 
 justice, I scarcely ever remember having spoken 
 of myself so much before." 
 
 " Will you walk with me," said Miss Temple, 
 after a moment's silence ; " you seem little in- 
 clined to avail yourself of my father s invitation 
 to solitary sport. But I cannot stay at home, 
 for I have visits to pay, although I fear you will 
 consider them rather dull ones." 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 " My visits are to cottages." 
 
 " I love nothing better. I used ever to be my 
 mother's companion on such occasion s." 
 
 So, crossing the lawn, they entered a beautiful 
 wood of considerable extent, which formed the 
 boundary of the grounds, and, after some time 
 passed in most agreeable conversation, emerged 
 upon a common of no ordinary extent or beauty, 
 for it was thickly studded in some parts with 
 lofty timber, while in others the furze and fern 
 gave richness and variety to the vast wilderness 
 of verdant turf, scarcely marked except by the 
 light hoof of Miss Temple's palfrey.
 
 234 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 " It is not so grand as Armine Park," said 
 Miss Temple ; le but we are proud of our 
 conimon." 
 
 The thin grey smoke that rose in different 
 directions, was a beacon to the charitable visits 
 of Miss Temple. It was evident that she was 
 a visiter both habitual and beloved. Each cot- 
 tage door was familiar to her entrance. The 
 children smiled at her approach ; their mothers 
 rose and courteseyed with affectionate respect. 
 How many names and how many wants had she 
 to remember ; yet nothing was forgotten ! Some 
 were rewarded for industry, some were admo- 
 nished not to be idle ; but all were treated with 
 an engaging suavity more efficacious than gifts 
 or punishments. The aged were solaced by her 
 visit ; the sick forgot their pains : and as she 
 listened with sjanpathising patience to long nar- 
 ratives of rheumatic griefs, it seemed her pre- 
 sence in each old chair, her tender enquiries and 
 sanguine hopes, brought even more comfort than 
 her plenteous promises of succour from the
 
 A LOVE STORY. 235 
 
 Bower in the shape of arrowroot and gruel, port 
 wine and flannel petticoats. 
 
 This scene of sweet simplicity brought back 
 old days and old places to the memory of Ferdi- 
 nand Armine. He thought of the time when he 
 was a happy boy at his innocent home ; his 
 mother's boy, the child she so loved and looked 
 after, when a cloud upon her brow brought a 
 tear into his eye, and when a kiss from her lips 
 was his most dear and desired reward. The last 
 night he had past at Armine, before his first 
 departure, rose up to his recollection ; all his 
 mother's passionate fondness, all her wild fear 
 that the day might come when her child would 
 not love her as dearly as he did then. That 
 time had come. But a few hours back — ay ! but 
 a few hours back — and he had sighed to be alone 
 in the world, and had felt those domestic ties 
 which had been the joy of his existence, a bur- 
 then, and a curse. A tear stole down his cheek ; 
 he stepped forth from the cottage to conceal his 
 emotion. He seated himself on the trunk of a
 
 236 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 tree, a few paces withdrawn ; he looked upon 
 the setting sun that gilded the distant land- 
 scape with its rich yet pensive light. The scenes 
 of the last five years flitted across his mind's eye 
 in fleet succession ; his dissipation, his vanity, his 
 desperate folly, his hollow worldliness. Why, 
 oh ! why had he ever left his unpolluted home ? 
 Why could he not have lived and died in that 
 sylvan paradise? Why, oh ! why was it impos- 
 sible to admit his beautiful companion into that 
 sweet and serene society ? Why should his love 
 for her make his heart a rebel to his hearth? 
 Money, horrible money ! It seemed to him that 
 the contiguous cottage and the labour of his 
 hands with her, were preferable to palaces and 
 crowds of retainers without her inspiring pre- 
 sence. And why not screw his courage to the 
 sticking-point, and commune in confidence with 
 his parents ? They loved him ; yes, they idol- 
 ised him ! For him, for him alone, they sought 
 the restoration of their house and fortunes. Why, 
 Henrietta Temple was a treasure richer than any
 
 A LOVE STORY. 237 
 
 his ancestors had counted. Let them look on her, 
 let them listen to her, let them breathe as he 
 had done in her enchantment ; and could they 
 wonder, could they murmur at his conduct ? 
 would they not, oh ! would they not rather ad- 
 mire, extol it ! But then, his debts, his infernal, 
 his overwhelming debts. All the rest might be 
 faced. His desperate engagement might be 
 broken ; his family might be reconciled to ob- 
 scurity and poverty : but, ruin ! what was to 
 grapple with his impending ruin ? Now his 
 folly stung him, now the scorpion entered his 
 soul. It was not the profligacy of his ancestor, 
 it was not the pride of his family then, that stood 
 between him and his love ; it was his own culp- 
 able and heartless career ! He covered his face 
 with his hands ; something touched him lightly, 
 it was the parasol of Miss Temple. 
 
 " I am afraid," she said, " that my visits 
 have wearied you ; but you have been very kind 
 and good." 
 
 He rose rapidly with a slight blush. w Indeed,"
 
 238 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 he replied, " I have past a most delightful morn- 
 ing, and I was only regretting that life consisted 
 of any thing else but cottages and yourself." 
 
 They were late ; they heard the first dinner 
 bell at Ducie as they re-entered the wood. " We 
 must hurry on/' said Miss Temple; " dinner 
 is the only subject on which papa is a tyrant. 
 What a sunset ! I wonder if Lady Armine will 
 return on Saturday. When she returns, I hope 
 you will make her call upon us, for I want to 
 copy all the pictures in your gallery ." 
 
 " If they were not heir-looms, I would give 
 them you," said Ferdinand ; but, as it is, there is 
 only one way by which I can manage it." 
 
 "What way?" enquired Miss Temple, very 
 innocently. 
 
 " I forget," replied Ferdinand, with a peculiar 
 smile. Miss Temple seemed to comprehend a 
 little more clearly, and looked a little confused.
 
 A LOVE STORY. 239 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 AN EVENING STROLL. 
 
 In spite of his perilous situation, an inde- 
 finable sensation of happiness pervaded the soul 
 of Ferdinand Armine, as he made his hurried 
 toilette, and hastened to the domestic board of 
 Ducie, where he was now the solitary guest. 
 His eye caught Miss Temple's as he entered the 
 room. It seemed to beam upon him with inte- 
 rest and kindness. His courteous and agreeable 
 host welcomed him with polished warmth. It 
 seemed that a feeling of intimacy was already 
 established among them, and he fancied him- 
 self already looked upon as an habitual mem- 
 ber of their circle. All dark thoughts were 
 driven away. He was gay and pleasant, and 
 duly maintained with Mr. Temple that conver-
 
 240 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 sation in which his host excelled. Miss Temple 
 spoke little, but listened with evident interest to 
 her father and Ferdinand. She seemed to de- 
 light in their society, and to be gratified by 
 Captain Armine's evident sense of her father's 
 agreeable qualities. 
 
 When dinner was over, they all rose together, 
 and repaired to the saloon. 
 
 " I wish Mr. Glastonbury were here," said 
 Miss Temple, as Ferdinand opened the instru- 
 ment. " You must bring him, some day, and 
 then our concert will be perfect." 
 
 Ferdinand smiled, but the name of Glaston- 
 bury made him shudder. His countenance 
 changed at the future plans of Miss Temple. 
 Ci Some day," indeed, when he might also take the 
 opportunity of introducing his betrothed ! But 
 the voice of Henrietta Temple drove all care 
 from his bosom ; he abandoned himself to the 
 intoxicating present. She sang alone ; and then 
 they sang together ; and, as he arranged her 
 books, or selected her theme, a thousand in-
 
 A LOVE STORY. 241 
 
 stances of the interest with which she inspired 
 him developed themselves. Once he touched 
 her hand, and he pressed his own, unseen, to 
 his lips. 
 
 Though the room was lit up, the windows 
 were open, and admitted the moonlight. The 
 beautiful saloon was full of fragrance and of 
 melody ; the fairest of women dazzled Ferdinand 
 with her presence ; his heart was full, his senses 
 ravished, his hopes were high. Could there be 
 such a demon as care in such a paradise ? Could 
 sorrow ever enter here? Was it possible that 
 these bright halls and odorous bowers could 
 be polluted by the miserable considerations that 
 reigned too often supreme in his unhappy 
 breast ? An enchanted scene had suddenly risen 
 from the earth for his delight and fascination. 
 Could he be unhappy? Why, if all went 
 darker even than he sometimes feared, that man 
 had not lived in vain who had beheld Henrietta 
 Temple ! All the troubles of the world were 
 folly here; this was fairy-land, and he, some 
 
 vol. i. M
 
 242 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 knight who had fallen from a gloomy globe 
 upon some starry region flashing with perennial 
 lustre. 
 
 The hours flew on ; the servants brought in 
 that light banquet whose entrance in the country 
 seems the only method of reminding our guests 
 that there is a morrow. 
 
 " ' Tis the last night," said Ferdinand, smil- 
 ing, with a sigh. " One more song ; only one 
 more. Mr. Temple, be indulgent ; it is the 
 last night. I feel," he added, in a lower tone, 
 to Henrietta, " I feel exactly as I did when I 
 left Armine for the first time." 
 
 w Because you are going to return to it ? That 
 is wilful." 
 
 " Wilful or not, I would that I might never 
 see it again." 
 
 il For my part, Armine is to me the very land 
 of romance." 
 
 " It is strange." 
 
 " No spot on earth ever impressed me more. 
 It is the finest combination of art, and nature,
 
 A LOVE STORY. 243 
 
 and poetical associations I know ; it is indeed 
 unique." 
 
 " I do not like to differ with you on any 
 subject." 
 
 " We should be dull companions, I fear, if 
 we agreed upon everything." 
 
 " I cannot think it." 
 
 " Papa," said Miss Temple, " one little stroll 
 upon the lawn ; one little, little stroll. The 
 moon is so bright ; and autumn, this year, has 
 brought us as yet no dew." And as she spoke, 
 she took up her scarf and wound it round 
 her head. " There," she said, " I look like 
 the portrait of the Turkish page in Armine 
 Gallery ; don't I ? " 
 
 There was a playful grace about Henrietta 
 Temple, a wild and brilliant simplicity, which 
 was the more charming, because it was blended 
 with peculiarly high breeding. No person in 
 ordinary society was more calm, or enjoyed a 
 more complete self-possession; yet no one, in 
 the more intimate relations of life, indulged 
 
 m 2
 
 244 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 more in those little unstudied bursts of nature, 
 which seemed almost to remind one of the playful 
 child rather than the polished woman ; and 
 which, under such circumstances, are infinitely 
 captivating. As for Ferdinand Armine, he 
 looked upon the Turkish page with a coun- 
 tenance beaming with admiration ; he wished 
 it was Turkey wherein he then beheld her, or 
 any other strange land, where he could have 
 placed her on his courser, and gallopped away 
 in pursuit of a fortune wild as his soul. 
 
 They walked in the garden, the arms of 
 Henrietta Temple linked between her father's 
 and Captain Armine's. Though the year was 
 in decay, summer had lent this night to autumn, 
 it was so soft and sweet. The moon-beam fell 
 brightly upon Ducie Bower, and the illumined 
 saloon contrasted effectively with the natural 
 splendour of the exterior scene. Mr. Temple 
 reminded Henrietta of a brilliant fete which 
 had been given at a Saxon palace, and which 
 some circumstances of similarity recalled to his
 
 A LOVE STORY. 245" 
 
 recollection. Ferdinand could not speak, but 
 found himself unconsciously pressing Henrietta 
 Temple's arm to his heart. The Saxon palace 
 brought back to Miss Temple a wild melody 
 which had been sung in the gardens on that 
 night. She asked her father if he recollected 
 it, and hummed the air as she made the inquiry. 
 Her gentle murmur soon expanded into song. 
 It was one of those wild and natural lyrics that 
 spring up in mountainous countries, and which 
 seem to mimic the prolonged echoes that in 
 such regions greet the ear of the pastor and the 
 huntsman. 
 
 Oh ! why did this night ever have an end !
 
 246 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 CHAPTER XF. 
 
 A MORNING WALK. 
 
 It was solitude that brought despair to Fer- 
 dinand A ratline. The moment he was alone his 
 real situation thrust itself upon him; the mo- 
 ment that he had quitted the presence of Hen- 
 rietta Temple, he was as a man under the in- 
 fluence of music when the orchestra suddenly 
 stops. The source of all his inspiration failed 
 him ; this last night at Ducie was dreadful. 
 Sleep was out of the question ; he did not 
 affect even the mimicry of retiring, but paced 
 up and down his room the whole night, or flung 
 himself, when exhausted, upon a restless sofa. 
 Occasionally he varied these monotonous occu- 
 pations, by pressing his lips to the drawings 
 which bore her name ; then, relapsing into a
 
 A LOVE STORY. 24:7 
 
 profound reverie, he sought some solace in re- 
 calling the scenes of the morning, all her move- 
 ments, every word she had uttered, every look 
 which had illumined his soul. In vain he en- 
 deavoured to find consolation in the fond belief 
 that he was not altogether without interest in 
 her eyes. Even the conviction that his passion 
 was returned, in the situation in which he was 
 plunged, would, however flattering, be rather a 
 source of fresh anxiety and perplexity. He 
 took a volume from the single shelf of books that 
 was slung against the wall ; it was a volume of 
 Corinne. The fervid eloquence of the poetess 
 sublimated his passion ; and, without disturbing 
 the tone of his excited mind, relieved in some 
 degree its tension, by busying his imagination 
 with other, though similar, emotions. As he 
 read, his mind became more calm and his feel- 
 ings deeper, and, by the time his lamp grew 
 ghastly in the purple light of morning that 
 now entered his chamber, his soul seemed so 
 stilled, that he closed the volume, and though
 
 248 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 sleep was impossible, he remained nevertheless 
 calm and absorbed. 
 
 When the first sounds assured him that some 
 were stirring in the house, he quitted his room, 
 and after some difficulty found a maid-servant by 
 whose aid he succeeded in getting into the gar- 
 den. He took his way to the common where he 
 had observed, the preceding day, a fine sheet of 
 water. The sun had not risen more than an 
 hour ; it was a fresh and ruddy morn. The 
 cottagers were just abroad. The air of the 
 plain invigorated him, and the singing of the 
 birds, and all those rural sounds that rise with 
 the husbandman, brought to his mind a wonder- 
 ful degree of freshness and serenity. Occasion- 
 ally he heard the gun of an early sportsman, to 
 him at all times an animating sound ; but when 
 he had plunged into the water, and found him- 
 self struggling with that inspiring element, all 
 sorrow seemed to leave him. His heated brow 
 became cool and clear — his aching limbs vigor- 
 ous and elastic — his jaded soul full of hope and
 
 A LOVE STORY. 249 
 
 joy. He lingered in the liquid and vivifying 
 world, playing with the stream, for he was an 
 expert and practised swimmer ; and often, after 
 nights of Southern dissipation, had recurred to 
 this natural bath for health and renovation. 
 
 The sun had now risen far above the horizon ; 
 the village clock had long struck seven ; Ferdi- 
 nand was three miles from Ducie Bower. It was 
 time to return, yet he loitered on his way, the 
 air was so sweet and fresh, the scene so pretty, 
 and his mind, in comparison with his recent feel- 
 ings, so calm, and even happy. Just as he 
 emerged from the woods, and entered the 
 grounds of Ducie, he met Miss Temple. She 
 stared, and she had cause. Ferdinand, indeed, 
 presented rather an unusual figure ; his head 
 uncovered, his hair matted, and his countenance 
 glowing with his exercise, but his figure clothed 
 in the identical evening dress in which he had 
 bid her a tender good night. 
 
 " Captain Armine ! M exclaimed Miss Temple, 
 " you are an early riser, I see." 
 
 m 3
 
 250 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 Ferdinand looked a little confused. " The 
 truth is," he replied, " I have not risen at all. 
 I could not sleep ; why, I know not : the even- 
 ing, I suppose, was too happy for so common- 
 place a termination ; so I escaped from my room 
 as soon as I could do so without disturbing your 
 household ; and I have been bathing, which 
 refreshes me always more than slumber." 
 
 " Well, I could not resign my sleep, were it 
 only for the sake of my dreams." 
 
 " Pleasant I trust they were. c Rosy dreams 
 and slumbers light ' are for ladies as fair as 
 you. " 
 
 M I am grateful that I always fulfil the poet's 
 wish ; and what is more, I wake only to gather 
 roses — see here ! " 
 
 She extended to him a flower. 
 
 " I deserve it," said Ferdinand, " for I have 
 not neglected your first gift," and he offered her 
 the rose she had given him the first day of his 
 visit. " 'Tis shrivelled," he added, " but still 
 very sweet — at least to me."
 
 A LOVE STORY. 251 
 
 u It is mine now,'" said Henrietta Temple. 
 
 " Ah ! you will throw it away." 
 
 " Do you think me, then, so insensible to gal- 
 lantry so delicate ? " 
 
 " It cannot he to you what it is to me," replied 
 Ferdinand. 
 
 '"' It is a memorial," said Miss Temple. 
 
 " Of what, and of whom?" inquired Ferdi- 
 nand. 
 
 " Of friendship and a friend." 
 
 " 'Tis something to be Miss Temple's friend." 
 
 " I am glad you think so. I believe I am 
 very vain, but certainly I like to be liked." 
 
 " Then you can always gain your wish without 
 an effort." 
 
 " Now I think we are very good friends," said 
 Miss Temple, " considering we have known 
 each other so short a time. But then papa likes 
 you so much." 
 
 " I am honoured as well as gratified by the 
 kindly dispositions of so agreeable a person as 
 Mr. Temple. I can assure his daughter that
 
 252 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 the feeling is mutual. Your father's opinion 
 influences you ? " 
 
 " In every thing. He has been so kind a 
 father, that it would be worse than ingratitude 
 to be less than devoted to him." 
 
 " Mr. Temple is a very enviable person." 
 
 " But Captain Armine knows the delight of a 
 parent who loves him. I love my father as you 
 love your mother." 
 
 " I have, however, lived to feel that no per- 
 son's opinion could influence me in every thing ; 
 I have lived to find that even filial love— and 
 God knows mine was powerful enough — is, after 
 
 all, but a pallid moonlight beam, compared with 
 j> 
 
 " See ! my father kisses his hand to us from 
 the window. Let us run and meet him."
 
 A LOVE STORY. 253 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 CONTAINING AN OMINOUS INCIDENT. 
 
 The last adieus are bidden : Ferdinand is on 
 his road to Armine, flying from the woman whom 
 he adores, to meet the woman to whom he is be- 
 trothed. He reined in his horse as he entered 
 the park. As he slowly approached his home, he 
 could not avoid feeling that, after so long an 
 absence, he had not treated Glastonbury with 
 the kindness and consideration he merited. 
 "While he was torturing his invention for an excuse 
 for his conduct, he observed his old tutor in the 
 distance ; and, riding up and dismounting, he 
 joined that faithful friend. Whether it be that 
 love and falsehood are, under any circumstances, 
 inseparable, Ferdinand Armine, whose frankness 
 was proverbial, found himself involved in a long
 
 254 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 and confused narrative of a visit to a friend 
 
 whom he had unexpectedly met, whom he had 
 known abroad, and to whom he was under the 
 greatest obligations. He even affected to regret 
 this temporary estrangement from Armine after 
 so long a separation, and to rejoice at his escape. 
 No names were mentioned, and the unsuspicious 
 Glastonbury, delighted again to be his compa- 
 nion, inconvenienced him with no cross-examina- 
 tion. But this was only the commencement of 
 the system of degrading deception which awaited 
 him. 
 
 Willingly would Ferdinand have devoted all 
 his time and feelings to his companion ; but in 
 vain he struggled with the absorbing passion of 
 his soul. He dwelt in silence upon the memory 
 of the last three days, the most eventful period 
 of his existence. He was moody and absent, 
 silent when he should have spoken, wandering 
 when he should have listened, hazarding random 
 observations instead of conversing, or breaking 
 into hurried and inappropriate comments ; so
 
 A LOVE STORY. 255 
 
 that to any worldly critic of his conduct he 
 would have appeared at the same time both dull 
 and excited. At length he made a desperate 
 effort to accompany Glastonbury to the picture 
 gallery, and listen to his plans. The scene, in- 
 deed, was not ungrateful to him, for it was 
 associated with the existence and the conversa- 
 tion of the lady of his heart : he stood entranced 
 before the picture of the Turkish page, and 
 lamented to Glastonbury, a thousand times, 
 that there was no portrait of Henrietta Arminc. 
 
 M I would sooner have a portrait of Henrietta 
 Armine, than the whole gallery together,'" said 
 Ferdinand. 
 
 Glastonbury stared. 
 
 " I wonder if there ever will be a portrait of 
 Henrietta Armine. Come, now, my dear Glas- 
 tonbury," he continued, with an air of remarkable 
 excitement, <k let us have a wager upon it. What 
 are the odds ? "Will there ever be a portrait of 
 Henrietta Armine ? I am quite fantastic to-day. 
 You are smiling at me. Now do you know, if I
 
 256 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 had a wish certain to be gratified, it should be 
 to add a portrait of Henrietta Armine to our 
 gallery ?" 
 
 " She died very young," remarked Glaston- 
 bury. 
 
 " But my Henrietta Armine should not die 
 young," said Ferdinand. " She should live, 
 breathe, smile — she " 
 
 Glastonbury looked very confused. 
 
 So strange is love, that this kind of veiled 
 allusion to his secret passion relieved and grati- 
 fied the overcharged bosom of Ferdinand. He 
 pursued the subject with enjoyment. Anybody 
 but Glastonbury might have thought that he had 
 lost his senses, he laughed so loud, and talked so 
 fast about a subject which seemed almost non- 
 sensical ; but the good Glastonbury ascribed 
 these ebullitions to the wanton spirit of youth, 
 and smiled out of sympathy, though he knew not 
 why, except that his pupil appeared happy. 
 
 At length they quitted the gallery ; Glaston- 
 bury resumed his labours in the hall, where he
 
 A LOVE STORV. 2.57 
 
 was copying an escutcheon ; and, after hovering 
 a short time restlessly around his tutor, now 
 escaping into the garden that he might muse over 
 Henrietta Temple undisturbed, and now return- 
 ing for a few minutes to his companion, lest the 
 good Glastonbury should feel mortified by his 
 neglect, Ferdinand broke away altogether, and 
 wandered far into the pleasaunce. 
 
 He came to the green and shady spot where he 
 had first beheld her. There rose the cedar, 
 spreading its dark form in solitary grandeur, and 
 holding, as it were, its state among its subject 
 woods. It was the same scene, almost the same 
 hour : but where was she ? He waited for her 
 form to rise, and yet it came not. He shouted 
 Henrietta Temple, yet no fair vision blessed his 
 expectant sight. Was it all a dream ? Had he 
 been but lying beneath these branches in a rap- 
 turous trance, and had he only woke to the 
 shivering dulness of reality ? What evidence 
 was there of the existence of such a being as 
 Henrietta Temple ? If such a being did not
 
 258 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 exist, of what value was life ? After a glimpse 
 of Paradise, could he breathe again in this tame 
 and frigid world ? Where was Ducie ? Where 
 were its immortal bowers, those roses of superna- 
 tural fragrance, and the celestial melody of its 
 halls ? That garden, wherein he wandered and 
 hung upon her accents ; that wood, among whose 
 shadowy boughs she glided like an antelope; 
 that pensive twilight, on which he had gazed with 
 such subdued emotion ; that moonlight walk, when 
 her voice floated, like Ariel's, in the purple sky : 
 were these all phantoms ? Could it be that this 
 morn, this very morn, he had beheld Henrietta 
 Temple, had conversed with her alone, had 
 bidden her a soft adieu ? What — was it this 
 day that she had given him this rose ? 
 
 He threw himself upon the turf, and gazed 
 upon the flower. The flower was young and 
 beautiful as herself, and just expanding into 
 perfect life. To the fantastic brain of love there 
 seemed a resemblance between this rose and her 
 who had culled it. Its stem was tall, its counte-
 
 A LOVE STORY. 259 
 
 nance was brilliant, an aromatic essence pervaded 
 its being. As he held it in his hand, a bee came 
 hovering round its charms, eager to revel in its 
 fragrant loveliness. More than once had Ferdi- 
 nand driven the bee away, when suddenly it suc- 
 ceeded in alighting on the rose. Jealous of his 
 rose, Ferdinand, in his haste, shook the flower, 
 and the fragile head fell from the stem ! 
 
 A feeling of deep melancholy came over him, 
 with which he found it in vain to struggle, and 
 which he could not analyse. He rose, and pres- 
 sing the flower to his heart, he walked away and 
 rejoined Glastonbury, whose task was nearly 
 accomplished. Ferdinand seated himself upon 
 one of the high cases which had been stowed 
 away in the hall, folding his arms, swinging his 
 legs, and whistling the German air which Miss 
 Temple had sung the preceding night. 
 
 " That is a wild and pretty air," said Glas- 
 tonburv, who was devoted to music. " I never 
 heard it before. You travellers pick up choice 
 things. Where did you find it ? "
 
 260 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 " I am sure I cannot tell, my dear Glaston- 
 bury ; I have been asking myself the same ques- 
 tion the whole morning. Sometimes I think I 
 dreamt it." 
 
 " A few more such dreams would make you a 
 rare composer," observed Glastonbury, smiling. 
 
 " Ah ! my dear Glastonbury, talking of music, 
 I know a musician, such a musician, a musician 
 whom I should like to introduce you to above all 
 persons in the world." 
 
 " You always loved music, dear Ferdinand ; 
 'tis in the blood. You come from a musical 
 stock on your mother's side. Is Miss Grandison 
 musical ? " 
 
 " Yes — no — that is to say, I forget — some 
 commonplace accomplishment in the art, she has, 
 I believe ; but I was not thinking of that sort of 
 thing; I was thinking of the lady who taught 
 me this air." 
 
 " A lady ! " said Glastonbury ; " the German 
 ladies are highly cultivated." 
 
 " Yes ! the Germans, and the women espe-
 
 A LOVE STORY. 261 
 
 cially, have a remarkably fine musical taste,' 1 
 rejoined Ferdinand, recovering from his blunder. 
 
 " I like the Germans very much," said Glas- 
 tonbury, " and I admire that air." 
 
 " Oh ! my dear Glastonbury, you should hear 
 it sung by moonlight." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Glastonbury. 
 
 ■* Yes ; if you could only hear her sing it by 
 moonlight, I venture to say, my dear Glaston- 
 bury, that you would confess that all you had ever 
 heard, or seen, or imagined, of enchanted spirits 
 floating in the air, and filling the atmosphere 
 with supernatural symphonies, was realised." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Glastonbury, " a most accom- 
 plished performer, no doubt ! Was she profes- 
 sional?" 
 
 " Who?" inquired Ferdinand. 
 
 " Your songstress." 
 
 " Professional ! oh ! ah ! yes ! No ! she was 
 not a professional singer, but she was fit to be 
 one ; and that is an excellent idea, too ; for I 
 would sooner, after all, be a professional singer,
 
 262 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 and live by my art, than marry against my 
 inclination, or not marry according to it." 
 
 " Marry ! " said Glastonbury, rather asto- 
 nished ; " what, is she going to be married 
 against her will ? Poor, devoted thing ! " 
 
 " Devoted, indeed ! " said Ferdinand ; " there 
 is no greater curse on earth." 
 
 Glastonbury shook his head. 
 
 44 The affections should not be forced," the 
 old man added ; rt our feelings are our own 
 property, often our best." 
 
 Ferdinand fell into a fit of abstraction ; then, 
 suddenly turning round, he said, " Is it possible 
 that I have been away from Armine only two 
 days. Do you know it really seems to me a 
 year ! " 
 
 " You are very kind to say so, my Ferdi- 
 nand," said Glastonbury.
 
 A LOVE STORY. 263 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 IN WHICH CAPTAIN ARMINE FINDS REASON TO 
 BELIEVE IN THE EXISTENCE OF FAIRIES. 
 
 It is difficult to describe the restlessness of 
 Ferdinand Armine. His solitary dinner was an 
 excuse for quitting Glastonbury : but to eat is 
 as impossible as to sleep, to a man who is really 
 in love. He took a spoonful of soup, and then 
 jumping up from his chair, he walked up and 
 down the room, thinking of Henrietta Temple. 
 Then to-morrow occurred to him, and that other 
 lady that to-morrow was to bring. He drowned 
 the thought in a bumper of claret. Wine, mighty 
 wine ! thou best and surest consolation ! What 
 care can withstand thy inspiring influence ; from 
 what scrape canst thou not, for a moment, extri- 
 cate the victim ! Who can deny that our spiritual
 
 264 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 nature in some degree depends upon our corpo- 
 real condition ? A man without a breakfast is 
 not a hero ; a hero well fed is full of audacious 
 invention. Every thing depends upon the circu- 
 lation. Let but the blood flow freely, and a man 
 of imagination is never without resources. A 
 fine pulse is a talisman ; a charmed life; a balance 
 at our bankers. It is good luck ; it is eternity ; 
 it is wealth. Nothing can withstand us; nothing 
 injure us; it is inexhaustible riches. So felt 
 Ferdinand Armine, though on the verge of a 
 moral precipice. To-morrow ! what of to-mor- 
 row ? Did to-morrow daunt him ? Not a jot. 
 He would wrestle with to-morrow, laden as it 
 might be with curses, and dash it to the earth. It 
 should not be a day ; he would blot it out of the 
 calendar of time ; he would effect a moral eclipse 
 of its influence. He loved Henrietta Temple. 
 She should be his. Who could prevent him ? 
 Was he not an Armine? Was he not the near 
 descendant of that bold man who passed his 
 whole life in the voluptuous indulgence of his
 
 A LOVE STORY. 265 
 
 unrestrained volition ! Bravo ! he willed it, 
 and it should be done. Everything yields to 
 determination. What a fool ! what a miserable 
 craven fool had he been to have frightened him- 
 self with the flimsy shadows of petty worldly 
 cares ! He was born to follow his own pleasure ; 
 it was supreme ; it was absolute ; he was a des- 
 pot ; he set everything and everybody at de- 
 fiance ; and, filling a huge tumbler to the health 
 of the great Sir Ferdinand, he reeled to bed, 
 glorious as an Emperor. 
 
 On the whole, Ferdinand had not committed 
 so great an indiscretion as the reader, of course 
 shocked, might at first imagine. For the first 
 time for some days he slept, and slept soundly. 
 Next to wine, a renovating slumber perhaps puts 
 us in the best humour with our destiny. Fer- 
 dinand awoke refreshed and sanguine, full of 
 inventive life, which soon developed itself in a 
 flow of most improbable conclusions. His most 
 rational scheme, however, appeared to consist in 
 winning Henrietta Temple, and turning pirate, 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 or engaging in the service of some distant and 
 disturbed state. Why might he not free 
 Greece, or revolutionise Spain, or conquer the 
 Brazils? Others had embarked in these bold 
 enterprises ; men not more desperate than him- 
 self, and not better qualified for the career. 
 Young, courageous, a warrior by profession, 
 with a name of traditionary glory throughout 
 the courts of Christendom, perhaps even re- 
 membered in Asia, he seemed just the indi- 
 vidual to carve out a glorious heritage with 
 his sword. And as for his parents, they were 
 not in the vale of years; let them dream on 
 in easy obscurity, and maintain themselves at 
 Armine until he returned to redeem his here- 
 ditary domain. All that was requisite was the 
 concurrence of his adored mistress. Perhaps, 
 after all his foolish fears, and all his petty 
 anxiety, he might live to replace upon her 
 brow the ancient coronet of Tewkesbury ! 
 Why not ? The world is strange ; nothing 
 happens that we anticipate : when apparently
 
 A LOVE STORY 267 
 
 stifled by the common-place, we are on the 
 brink of stepping into the adventurous. If he 
 married Miss Grandison, his career was closed : 
 a most unnatural conclusion for one so young 
 and bold. It was evident that he must marry 
 Henrietta Temple ; and then ? Why, then 
 something would happen totally unexpected 
 and unforeseen. Who could doubt it ? Not he ! 
 He rose, he mounted his horse, and gal- 
 loped over to Ducie Common. Its very aspect 
 melted his heart. He called at the cottages 
 he had visited two days before. Without 
 inquiring after Miss Temple, he contrived to 
 hear a thousand circumstances relating to her 
 which interested and charmed him. In the 
 distance rose the woods of Ducie ; he gazed 
 upon them as if he could never withdraw his 
 sight from their deep and silent forms. Oh, 
 that sweet Bower ! Why was there any other 
 world but Ducie ? All his brave projects of 
 war, and conquest, and imperial plunder seemed 
 dull and vain now. He sickened at the thought 
 
 n 2
 
 268 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 of action. He sighed to gather roses, to listen 
 to songs sweeter than the nightingale, and wan- 
 der for ever in moon-lit groves. 
 
 He turned his horse's head ; slowly and sor- 
 rowfully he directed his course to Armine. Had 
 they arrived ? The stern presence of reality 
 was too much for all his slight and glittering 
 visions. What was he after all ? This future 
 conqueror was a young officer on leave, obscure 
 except in his immediate circle, with no inheri- 
 tance, and very much in debt; awaited with 
 anxiety by his affectionate parents, and a young 
 lady whom he was about to marry — for her 
 fortune ! Most impotent epilogue to a magni- 
 ficent reverie ! 
 
 The post arrived at Armine in the afternoon. 
 As Ferdinand, nervous as a child returning to 
 school, tardily regained home, he recognised the 
 approaching postman. Hah ! a letter ? What 
 was its import ? The blessing of delay ? or 
 was it the herald of their instant arrival ? Pale, 
 and sick at heart, he tore open the hurried lines
 
 A LOVE STOItY. 269 
 
 of Katherine. The maiden aunt had stumbled 
 while getting out of a pony phaeton, and expe- 
 rienced a serious accident ; their visit to Armine 
 was necessarily postponed. He read no more. 
 The colour returned to his cheek, re-inforced by 
 his heart's liveliest blood. A thousand thoughts, 
 a thousand wild hopes, and wilder plans, came 
 over him. Here was, at least, one interposition 
 in his favour ; others would occur. He felt 
 fortunate. He rushed to the tower, to tell the 
 news to Glastonbury. His tutor ascribed his 
 agitation to the shock, and attempted to console 
 him. In communicating the intelligence, he was 
 obliged to finish the letter ; it expressed a hope, 
 that, if their visit were postponed for more 
 than a day or two, Katherine's dearest Ferdinand 
 would return to Bath. 
 
 Ferdinand wandered forth into the Park to 
 enjoy his freedom. A burden had suddenly 
 fallen from his frame ; a cloud that had haunted 
 his vision had vanished. To-day, that was so 
 accursed, was to be marked now in his calendar
 
 270 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 with red chalk. Even Armine pleased him ; its 
 sky was brighter, its woods more'vast and green. 
 They had not arrived ; they would not arrive 
 to-morrow, that was certain ; the third day, too, 
 was a day of hope. Why ! three days, three 
 whole days of unexpected, unhoped for freedom, 
 it was eternity ! What might not happen in 
 three days ! In three days he might fairly re- 
 main in expectation of fresh letters. It could 
 not be anticipated, it was not even desired, that 
 he should instantly repair to them. Come, he 
 would forget this curse, he would be happy. The 
 past, the future should be nothing; he would 
 revel in the auspicious present. 
 
 Thus communing with himself, he sauntered 
 along, musing over Henrietta Temple, and 
 building bright castles in the air. A man en- 
 gaged with his ideas is insensible of fatigue. 
 Ferdinand found himself at the Park gate that 
 led to Ducie ; intending only a slight stroll, he 
 had already rambled half-way to his beloved. 
 It was a delicious afternoon: the heat of the
 
 A LOVE STORY. 271 
 
 sun had long abated ; the air was sweet and 
 just beginning to stir; not a sound was heard, 
 except the last blow of the woodman's axe, or 
 the occasional note of some joyous bird waking 
 from its siesta. Ferdinand passed the gate ; he 
 entered the winding road, the road that Hen- 
 rietta Temple had so admired ; a beautiful green 
 lane, indeed, with banks of flowers, and hedges 
 of tall trees. He strolled along, our happy 
 Ferdinand, indefinite of purpose, almost insen- 
 sible whether he were advancing or returning 
 home. He plucked the wild flowers, and pressed 
 them to his lips, because she had admired them — 
 rested on a bank — lounged on a gate — cut a 
 stick from the hedge — traced Henrietta Temple 
 in the road, and then turned the words into 
 Henrietta Armine — and so, and so, and so — he, 
 at length, stared at finding himself on Ducie 
 Common. 
 
 Beautiful common ! How he loved it ! How 
 familiar every tree and rustic roof had become 
 to him ! Could he ever forget the morning he
 
 272 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 had bathed in those fresh waters ! What lake 
 of Italy, what heroic wave of the midland 
 ocean, could rival in his imagination that simple 
 basin ! He drew near to the woods of Ducie, 
 glowing with the setting sun. Surely there was 
 no twilight like the twilight of this land ! The 
 woods of Ducie are entered. He recognised 
 the path over which she had glided ; he knelt 
 down and kissed that sacred earth. As he ap- 
 proached the pleasure grounds, he turned off 
 into a side path, that he might not be perceived ; 
 he caught, through a vista, a distant glimpse of 
 the mansion. The sight of that roof, wherein 
 he had been so happy ; of that roof that con- 
 tained all that he cared or thought for in this 
 world, overcame him. He leant against a tree, 
 and hid his face. 
 
 The twilight died away, the stars stole forth, 
 and Ferdinand ventured in the spreading gloom 
 of night to approach the mansion. He threw 
 himself upon the turf, and watched the chamber 
 where she lived. The windows were open, there
 
 A LOVE STORY. 273 
 
 were lights within the room, but the thin curtains 
 were drawn, and concealed the inmates. Happy, 
 happy chamber ! All that was bright, and fair, 
 and sweet, were concentrated in those charming 
 walls ! 
 
 The curtain is withdrawn ; an arm — an arm 
 which cannot be mistaken — pulls back the drapery. 
 Is she coming forth ? No, she does not ; but he 
 sees, distinctly he sees her. She sits in an old 
 chair that he had often praised ; her head rests 
 upon her arm — her brow seems pensive ; and in 
 her other hand she holds a volume that she 
 scarcely appears to read. Oh ! may he gaze 
 upon her for ever ! May this celestial scene, this 
 seraphic hour, never pass away. Bright stars — 
 oh ! do not fade ; thou summer wind that playest 
 upon his brow, perfumed by her flowers, refresh 
 him for ever; beautiful night be for ever the 
 canopy of a scene so sweet and still; let exist- 
 ence glide away in gazing on yon delicate and 
 tender vision ! 
 
 Dreams of fantastic love — the curtain closes ; 
 n 3
 
 274 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 a ruder hand than her's has shut her from his 
 sight ! It has all vanished ; the stars seem dim, 
 the autumnal air is dank and harsh; and where 
 he had gazed on heaven, a bat flits wild and fleet. 
 Poor Ferdinand, unhappy Ferdinand, how dull 
 and depressed our brave gallant has become ! 
 Was it her father who had closed the curtain ? 
 Could he, himself, thought Ferdinand, have been 
 observed ? 
 
 Hark ! a voice softer and sweeter than the 
 night breaks upon the air. It is the voice of his 
 beloved — and, indeed, with all her singular and 
 admirable qualities, I do not know that there was 
 any thing more remarkable about Henrietta 
 Temple than her voice. It was a rare voice ; so 
 that in speaking, and in the most ordinary con- 
 versation, there was no one whose utterance was 
 more natural and less unstudied ; it forcibly 
 affected you. She could not give you a greeting, 
 bid you an adieu, or make the most routine 
 remark, without impressing you with her power 
 and sweetness. It sounded like a bell, sweet
 
 A LOVE STORY. 275 
 
 and clear and thrilling; it was quite astonish- 
 ing — ay ! it was ridiculous — what influence a 
 little word uttered by this woman, without 
 thought, would have upon your life. Of such 
 fine clay is man made. 
 
 That beautiful voice recalled to Ferdinand 
 all his fading visions ; it renewed the spell which 
 had recently enchanted him ; it conjured up again 
 all those sweet spirits that had a moment since 
 hovered over him with their auspicious pinions. 
 He could not, indeed, see her ; her form, indeed, 
 was shrouded, but her voice reached him ; a voice 
 attuned to tenderness, even to love ; a voice that 
 ravished his ear, melted his soul, and blended 
 with his whole existence. His heart fluttered, 
 his pulse beat high, he sprang up, he advanced 
 to the window ! Yes ! a few paces alone divide 
 them : a single step and he will be at her side. 
 His hand is outstretched to clutch the curtain, 
 
 his , when suddenly the music ceased. His 
 
 courage vanished with its inspiration. For a
 
 276 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 moment he lingered, but his heart misgave him, 
 and he stole back to his solitude. 
 
 What a mystery is Love ! All the necessities 
 and habits of our life sink before it. Food and 
 sleep, that seem to divide our being, as day and 
 night divide Time, lose all their influence over 
 the lover. He is, indeed, a spiritualised being, 
 fit only to live upon ambrosia, and slumber in 
 an imaginary paradise. The cares of the world 
 do not touch him ; its most stirring events are 
 to him but the dusty incidents of by-gone annals. 
 All the fortune of the world without his mistress 
 is misery ; and with her all its mischances a 
 transient dream. Revolutions, earthquakes, the 
 change of governments, the fall of empires, are 
 to him but childish games, distasteful to a manly 
 spirit. Men love in the plague, and forget the 
 pest, though it rages about them. They bear a 
 charmed life, and think not of destruction until 
 it touches their idol, and then they die without 
 a pang, like zealots for their persecuted creed.
 
 A LOVE STORY. 277 
 
 A man in love wanders in the world as a som- 
 nambulist, with eyes that seem open to those 
 that watch him, yet in fact view nothing but 
 their own inward fancies. 
 
 Oh ! that night at Ducie, through whose long 
 hours Ferdinand Armine, in a tumult of enrap- 
 tured passion, wandered in its lawns and groves, 
 feeding on the image of its enchanting mistress, 
 watching the solitary light in her chamber that 
 was to him as the pharos to a mariner in a 
 tumultuous voyage ! The morning, the grey 
 cold morning, came at last ; he had out watched 
 the stars, and listened to the matins of the 
 waking birds. It was no longer possible to 
 remain in the gardens unobserved ; he regained 
 the common. 
 
 What should he do ? whither should he wend 
 his course ? To Armine ? Oh ! not to Armine ; 
 never could he return to Armine without the 
 heart of Henrietta Temple. Yes ! on that great 
 venture he had now resolved ; on that mighty 
 hazard all should now be staked. Reckless of
 
 278 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 consequences, one vast object now alone sustained 
 him. Existence without her was impossible ! 
 Aye ! a clay, a day, a single, a solitary day, should 
 not elapse without his breathing to her his pas- 
 sion, and seeking his fate from her dark eyes ! 
 
 He strolled along to the extremity of the com- 
 mon. It was a great table land, from whose 
 boundary you looked down on small rich valleys ; 
 and into one of these, winding his way through 
 fields of golden grain and pastures, of which the 
 fertile soil was testified by their vigorous hedge- 
 rows, he now descended. A long, low farm- 
 house, with gable ends and ample porch, an 
 antique building that in old days might have 
 been some manorial residence, attracted his atten- 
 tion. Its picturesque form, its angles and 
 twisted chimneys, its porch covered with jessa- 
 mine and eglantine, its verdant homestead and 
 its orchard rich with ruddy fruit, its vast barns 
 and long lines of ample stacks, produced alto- 
 gether a rural picture complete and cheerful. 
 Near it ran a stream, which Ferdinand followed,
 
 A LOVE STORY. 279 
 
 and which, after a devious and rapid course, 
 emptied itself into a deep and capacious pool, 
 touched by the early sunbeam, and grateful to 
 the swimmer's eye. Here Ferdinand made his 
 natural toilet ; and afterwards slowly returning 
 to the farm-house, sought an agreeable refuge 
 from the sun in its fragrant porch. 
 
 The farmer's wife, accompanied by a pretty 
 daughter with downcast eyes, came forth and 
 invited him to enter. While he courteously 
 refused her offer, he sought her hospitality. 
 The good wife brought a table, and placed it in 
 the porch, and covered it with a napkin purer 
 than snow. Her viands were fresh eggs, milk 
 warm from the cow, and bread she had herself 
 baked. Even a lover might feed on such sweet 
 food. This happy valley and this cheerful set- 
 tlement wonderfully touched the fancy of Ferdi- 
 nand. The season was mild and sunny, the air 
 scented by the flowers that rustled in the breeze, 
 the bees soon came to rifle their sweetness, and 
 flights of white and blue pigeons ever and anon
 
 280 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 skimmed along the sky from the neighbouring 
 gables that were their dovecotes. Ferdinand 
 made a salutary, if not plenteous meal ; and 
 when the table was removed, exhausted by the 
 fatigue and excitement of the last four-and-twenty 
 hours, he stretched himself at full length in the 
 porch, and fell into a gentle and dreamless 
 slumber. 
 
 Hours elapsed before he awoke, vigorous 
 indeed, and wonderfully refreshed ; but the sun 
 had already greatly declined. To his astonish- 
 ment, as he moved, there fell from his breast a 
 most beautiful nosegay. He was charmed with 
 this delicate attention from his hostess, or per- 
 haps from her pretty daughter with those down- 
 cast eyes. There seemed a refinement about 
 the gift, and the mode of its offering, which 
 scarcely could be expected from these kind yet 
 simple rustics. The flowers, too, were most 
 rare and choice ; geraniums such as are found 
 only in lady^ bower, a cape jessamine, some 
 musky carnations, and a rose that seemed the
 
 A LOVE STORY. 281 
 
 sister of the one that he had borne from Ducie. 
 They were most delicately bound together, 
 too, by a bright blue ribband, fastened by a gold 
 and turquoise pin. This was most strange ; this 
 was an adventure more suitable to a Sicilian 
 palace than an English farm-house ; to the 
 gardens of a princess than the clustered porch 
 of his kind hostess. Ferdinand gazed at the 
 bouquet with a glance of blended perplexity 
 and pleasure ; then he entered the farm-house, 
 and made inquiries of his hostess, but they were 
 fruitless. The pretty daughter with the down- 
 cast eyes was there too ; but her very admi- 
 ration at the gift, so genuine and unrestrained, 
 proved, if testimony indeed were necessary, that 
 she was not his unknown benefactor : admirer, 
 he would have said ; but Ferdinand was in love, 
 and modest. All agreed no one, to their know- 
 ledge, had been there ; and so Ferdinand, che- 
 rishing his beautiful gift, was fain to quit his 
 new friends in as much perplexity as ever.
 
 282 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 WHICH CONTAINS AN INCIDENT WHICH IS THE 
 TERMINATION OF MOST TALES, THOUGH 
 ALMOST THE BEGINNING OF THE PRESENT. 
 
 It was about two hours before sunset that 
 Captain Armine summoned up courage to call 
 at Dueie Bower. He inquired for Mr. Temple, 
 and learned to his surprise that Mr. Temple 
 had quitted Ducie yesterday morning for Scot- 
 land. 
 
 " And Miss Temple ? " said Ferdinand. 
 
 " Is at home, Sir," replied the servant. 
 
 Ferdinand was ushered into the saloon. She 
 was not there. Our hero was very nervous ; he 
 had been bold enough in the course of his walk 
 from the farm-house, and indulged in a thou- 
 sand imaginary conversations with his mistress ;
 
 A LOVE STORY. 283 
 
 but, now that be was really about to meet 
 her, all his fire and fancy deserted him. 
 Everything occurred to him inauspicious to 
 his suit ; his own situation, the short time she 
 had known him, his uncertainty of the state 
 of her affections. How did he know she was 
 not engaged to another ? why should she not be 
 betrothed as well as himself? This contingency 
 had occurred to him before, and yet he had 
 driven it from his thoughts. He began to be 
 jealous ; he began to think himself a very great 
 fool; at any rate, he resolved not to expose 
 himself any further. He was clearly premature ; 
 he would call to-morrow or next day ; to speak 
 to her now was certainly impossible. 
 
 The door opened ; she entered, radiant as the 
 day ! What a smile ! what dazzling teeth ! 
 what ravishing dimples ! her eyes flashed like 
 summer lightning; she extended him a hand 
 white and soft as one of those doves that had 
 played about him in the morning. Surely never 
 was any one endued with such an imperial pre- 
 sence. So stately, so majestic, and yet withal
 
 284 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 so simply gracious; full of such airy artlessness, 
 at one moment she seemed an empress, and then 
 only a beautiful child ; and the hand and arm 
 that seemed fashioned to wave a sceptre, in an 
 instant appeared only fit to fondle a gazelle or 
 pluck a flower. 
 
 " How do you do ? " she said ; and he really 
 fancied she was going to sing. He was not yet 
 accustomed to that marvellous voice. It broke 
 upon the silence, like a silver bell just touched 
 by the summer air. " It is very kind of you to 
 come and see a lone maiden," she continued ; 
 " papa has deserted me, and without any prepa- 
 ration. I cannot endure to be separated from 
 him, and this is almost the only time that he has 
 refused my solicitation to accompany him. But 
 he must travel far and quickly. My uncle has 
 sent for him ; lie is very unwell, and papa is his 
 trustee. There is business; I do not know what 
 it is, but I dare say not very agreeable. By the 
 bye, I hope Lady Armine is well ? " 
 
 " My papa has deserted me," said Ferdinand, 
 with a smile. " They have not yet arrived, and
 
 A LOVE STORY. 28J 
 
 some days may yet elapse before they reach 
 Armine." 
 
 " Indeed ! I hope they are well." 
 
 " Yes ; they are well." 
 
 " Did you ride here ? M 
 
 " No." 
 
 " You did not walk?" 
 
 " I hardly know how I came ; I believe I 
 walked." 
 
 M You must be very tired ; and you are stand- 
 ing ! pray sit down ; sit in that chair; you know 
 that is your favourite chair." 
 
 And Ferdinand seated himself in the very 
 chair in which he had watched her the preceding 
 night. 
 
 " This is certainly my favourite chair," he 
 said ; " I know no seat in the world I prefer to 
 this." 
 
 " "Will you take some refreshment ? I am 
 sure you will ; you must be very tired. Take 
 some hock ; let me order some hock — papa 
 always takes hock and soda water. I shall order
 
 286 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 some hock and soda water for you." She rose 
 and rang the bell in spite of his remonstrance. 
 
 " And have you been walking, Miss Temple ? " 
 inquired Ferdinand. 
 
 " I was thinking of strolling now," she replied, 
 " but I am glad that you have called, for I wanted 
 an excuse to be idle." 
 
 An hour passed away, nor was the conversa- 
 tion on either side very brilliantly supported. 
 Ferdinand seemed dull, but, indeed, was only 
 moody, revolving in his mind many strange inci- 
 dents and feelings, and then turning for conso- 
 lation in his perplexities to the enchanting vision 
 on which he still could gaze. Nor was Miss 
 Temple, indeed, in her usually sparkling vein ; 
 her liveliness seemed an effort; she was more 
 constrained, she was less fluent than before. Fer- 
 dinand, indeed, rose more than once to depart ; 
 yet still he remained. He lost his cap ; he 
 looked for his cap ; he found his cap ; and then 
 again seated himself. Again he rose, restless 
 and disquieted, wandered about the room, looked
 
 A LOVE STORY. 287 
 
 at a picture, plucked a flower, pulled the flower 
 to pieces. 
 
 " Miss Temple," he at length observed, " I 
 am afraid I am very stupid ! w 
 li Because you are silent? " 
 " Is not that a sufficient reason ? n 
 ** Nay ! I think not — I think I am rather 
 fond of silent people myself; I cannot bear to 
 live with a person who feels bound to talk 
 because he is my companion. The whole day 
 passes sometimes without papa and myself ex- 
 changing fifty words ; yet I am very happy ; I 
 do not feel that we are dull : " and Miss Temple 
 pursued her work which she had previously 
 taken up. 
 
 " Ah ! but I am not your papa; when we are 
 very intimate with people, when they interest us, 
 we are engaged with their feelings, we do not 
 perpetually require their ideas. But an acquaint- 
 ance, as I am, only an acquaintance, a miserable 
 acquaintance, unless I speak or listen, I have no 
 business to be here ; unless I in some degree
 
 288 HENltlETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 contribute to the amusement or the convenience 
 of my companion, I degenerate into a bore." 
 
 " I think you are very amusing, and you may 
 be useful if you like, very;" and she offered 
 him a skein of silk, which she requested him to 
 hold. 
 
 It was a beautiful hand that was extended to 
 him ; a beautiful hand is an excellent thing in 
 woman ; it is a charm that never palls, and better 
 than all, it is a means of fascination that never 
 disappears. Women carry a beautiful hand with 
 them to the grave, when a beautiful face has long 
 ao-o vanished, or ceased to enchant. The ex- 
 pression of the hand, too, is inexhaustible ; and 
 when the eyes we may have worshipped no longer 
 flash or sparkle, the ringlets with which we may 
 have played are covered with a cap, or worse, a 
 turban, and the symmetrical presence which 
 in our sonnets has reminded us so oft of ante- 
 lopes and wild gazelles, have all, all vanished ; 
 the hand, the immortal hand, defying alike time 
 and care, still vanquishes, and still triumphs ;
 
 A LOVE STORY. 289 
 
 and small, soft, and fair, by an airy attitude, a 
 gentle pressure, or a new ring, renews with 
 untiring grace the spell that bound our ena- 
 moured and adoring youth ! 
 
 But in the present instance there were eyes as 
 bright as the hand, locks more glossy and luxu- 
 riant than Helen of Troy's, a cheek pink as a 
 shell, and breaking into dimples like a May 
 morning into sunshine, and lips from which stole 
 forth a perfume sweeter than the whole conserva- 
 tory. Ferdinand sat down on a chair opposite 
 Miss Temple, with the extended skein. 
 
 " Now this is better than doing nothing ! ;1 
 she said, catching his eye with a glance half- 
 kind, half-arch. " I suspect, Captain Armine, 
 that your melancholy originates in idleness." 
 
 il Ah ! if I could only be employed every day 
 in this manner ! " ejaculated Ferdinand. 
 
 " Nay ! not with a distaff; but you must do 
 something. You must get into parliament." 
 
 " You forget that I am a Catholic,'' said Fer- 
 dinand. 
 
 vol. i. o
 
 290 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 Miss Temple slightly blushed, and talked 
 rather quickly about her work ; but her com- 
 panion would not relinquish the subject. 
 
 " I hope you are not prejudiced against my 
 faith," said Ferdinand. 
 
 " Prejudiced ! Dear Captain Armine, do not 
 make me repent too seriously a giddy word. I 
 feel it is wrong that matters of taste should 
 mingle with matters of belief ; but, to speak the 
 truth, I am not quite sure that a Howard or an 
 Armine, who was a Protestant, like myself, 
 would quite please my fancy as much as in their 
 present position, which, if a little inconvenient, is 
 very picturesque.''' 
 
 Ferdinand smiled. " My great grandmother 
 was a Protestant," said Ferdinand, " Margaret 
 Armine. Do you think Margaret a pretty 
 name ? " 
 
 " Queen Margaret ! yes ! a fine name, I think ; 
 barring its abbreviation." 
 
 " I wish my great grandmother's name had not 
 been Margaret, ,, said Ferdinand very seriously.
 
 A LOVE STORY. 291 
 
 " Now, why should that respectable dame's 
 baptism disturb your fancy ? " inquired Miss 
 Temple. 
 
 u I wish her name had been Henrietta," replied 
 Ferdinand. " Henrietta Armine. You know 
 there was a Henrietta Armine once ? " 
 
 ei Was there ?" said Miss Temple rising. 
 " Our skein is finished. You have been very 
 good. I must go and see my flowers. Come." 
 And as she said this little word, she turned her 
 fair and finely-finished neck, and looked over her 
 shoulder at Ferdinand with an arch expression of 
 countenance peculiar to her. That winning 
 look, indeed, that clear, sweet voice, and that 
 quick graceful attitude, blended into a spell 
 which was irresistible. His heart yearned for 
 Henrietta Temple, and rose at the bidding of her 
 voice. 
 
 From the conservatory they stepped into 
 the garden. It was a most delicious after- 
 noon ; the sun had sunk behind the grove, and 
 the air, which had been throughout the day 
 
 o 2
 
 292 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 somewhat oppressive, was now warm, but mild. 
 At Ducie there was a fine old terrace facing the 
 western hills, that bound the valley in which the 
 bower was situate. These hills, a ridge of 
 moderate elevation, but of very picturesque form, 
 parted just opposite the terrace, as if on purpose 
 to admit the setting sun, like inferior existences 
 that had, as it were, made way before the splen- 
 dour of some mighty lord or conqueror. The 
 lofty and sloping bank which this terrace 
 crowned was covered with rare shrubs, and 
 occasionally a group of tall trees sprang up 
 among them, and broke the view with an inter- 
 ference which was far from ungraceful — while 
 ivy and other creepers, spreading forth from 
 large marble vases, had extended over their 
 trunks, and sometimes, even in their play, had 
 touched their topmost branches. Between the 
 terrace and the distant hills extended a vast tract 
 of pasture land, green and well-wooded by its 
 rich hedge-rows ; not a roof was visible, though 
 many farms and hamlets were at hand ; and, in
 
 A LOVE STORY. 293 
 
 the heart of a rich and populous land, here was 
 a region where the shepherd or the herdsman 
 were the only evidences of human existence. It 
 was thither, a grateful spot at such an hour, that 
 Miss Temple and her companion directed their 
 steps. The last beam of the sun flashed across the 
 flaming horizon as they gained the terrace ; the 
 hills, well wooded, or presenting a bare and acute 
 outline to the sky, rose sharply defined in form ; 
 while in another direction some more distant 
 elevations were pervaded with a rich purple tint, 
 touched sometimes with a rosy blaze of soft and 
 flickering light. The whole scene, indeed, from 
 the humble pasture-land that was soon to creep 
 into darkness, to the proud hills whose sparkling 
 crests were yet touched by the living beam, was 
 bathed with lucid beauty and luminous softness, 
 and blended with the glowing canopy of the 
 lustrous sky. But on the terrace, and the groves 
 that rose beyond it, and the glades and vistas 
 into which they opened, fell the full glory of the 
 sunset. Each moment a new shadow, now rosy 
 
 o 3
 
 294 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 now golden, now blending in its shifting tints all 
 the glory of the iris, fell over the rich pleasure- 
 grounds, its groups of rare and noble trees, and 
 its dim or glittering avenues. 
 
 The vespers of the birds were faintly dying 
 away, the last low of the returning kine sounded 
 over the lea, the tinkle of the sheep- bell was 
 heard no more, the thin white moon began to 
 gleam, and Hesperus glittered in the fading sky. 
 It was the twilight hour ! 
 
 That delicious hour that softens the heart of 
 man — what is its magic f Not merely its 
 beauty ; it is not more beautiful than the sun- 
 rise. It is its repose. Our tumultuous passions 
 sink with the sun ; there is a fine sympathy 
 between us and our world, and the stillness of 
 Nature is responded to by the serenity of the 
 soul. 
 
 At this sacred hour our hearts are pure. All 
 worldly cares, all those vulgar anxieties and 
 aspirations that at other seasons hover like 
 vultures over our existence, vanish from the
 
 A LOVE STOllY. 295 
 
 serene atmosphere of our susceptibility. A sense 
 of beauty, a sentiment of love, pervade our 
 being. But if at such a moment solitude is full of 
 joy — if, even when alone, our native sensibility 
 suffices to entrance us with a tranquil, yet 
 thrilling, bliss — how doubly sweet, how multi- 
 plied must be our fine emotions, when the most 
 delicate influence of human sympathy combines 
 with the power and purity of material and 
 moral nature, and completes the exquisite and 
 enchanting spell ! 
 
 Ferdinand Armine turned from the beautiful 
 world around him, to gaze upon a countenance 
 sweeter than the summer air, softer than the 
 gleaming moon, brighter than the evening star. 
 The shadowy light of purple eve fell upon the 
 still and solemn presence of Henrietta Temple. 
 Irresistible emotion impelled him ; softly he 
 took her gentle hand, and scarcely winding 
 round her waist his trembling arm, he bent his 
 head, and murmured to her, " Most beautiful, I 
 love thee ! "
 
 296 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 As, in the oppressive stillness of some tropic 
 night, a single drop is the refreshing harbinger 
 of a shower that clears the heavens, so even 
 this slight expression relieved in an instant the 
 intensity of his o'er-burthened feelings, and 
 warm, quick, and gushing, flowed the words that 
 breathed his fervid adoration. " Yes ! " he 
 continued, " in this fair scene, oh ! let me turn 
 to something fairer still. Beautiful, beloved 
 Henrietta, I can repress no longer the emotions 
 that, since I first beheld you, have vanquished 
 my existence. I love you, I adore you ; life in 
 your society is heaven; without you I cannot live. 
 Deem me, oh ! deem me not too bold, sweet 
 lady ; I am not worthy of you, yet let me love ! 
 I am not worthy of you, but who can be ? Ah ! 
 if I dared but venture to offer you my heart, if 
 indeed that humblest of all possessions might 
 indeed be yours, if my adoration, if my devotion, 
 if the consecration of my life to you, might in 
 some degree compensate for its little worth, if I 
 might live even but to hope
 
 A LOVE STORY. 297 
 
 w You do not speak, my treasure ; my beloved 
 is silent. Miss Temple, Henrietta, admirable 
 Henrietta, have I offended you ? am I indeed 
 the victim of hopes too high and fancies too 
 supreme ? Oh ! pardon me, most beautiful, I 
 pray your pardon. Is it a crime to feel, per- 
 chance too keenly, the sense of beauty like to 
 thine, dear lady ? Ah ! tell me I am forgiven ; 
 tell me indeed you do not hate me. I will be 
 silent, I will never speak again. Yet, let me 
 walk with you. Cease not to be my companion 
 because I have been too bold. Pity me, pity 
 me, dearest, dearest Henrietta. If you but 
 knew how I have suffered, if you but knew the 
 nights that brought no sleep, the days of fever, 
 that have been mine since first we met, if you 
 but knew how I have fed but upon one sweet 
 idea, one sacred image of absorbing life, since 
 first I gazed on your transcendent form, indeed I 
 think that you would pity, that you would 
 pardon, that you might even 
 
 " Tell me is it my fault that you are beautiful.
 
 298 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 
 
 Oh ! how beautiful, my wretched and exhausted 
 soul too surely feels ! Is it my fault those eyes 
 are like the dawn, that thy sweet voice thrills 
 through my frame, and but the lightest touch of 
 that light hand falls like a spell on my entranced 
 form ? Ah ! Henrietta, be merciful, be kind ! " 
 
 He paused for a second, and yet she did not 
 answer ; but her cheek fell upon his shoulder, 
 and the gentle pressure of her hand was more 
 eloquent than language. That slight, sweet 
 signal was to him as the sunrise on the misty 
 earth. Full of hope, and joy, and confidence, 
 he took her in his arms, sealed her cold lips 
 with a burning kiss, and vowed to her his eternal 
 and almighty love ! 
 
 He bore her to an old stone bench placed on 
 the terrace. Still she was silent ; but her hand 
 clasped his, and her head rested on his bosom. 
 The gleaming moon now glittered, the hills and 
 woods were silvered by its beam, and the far 
 meads were bathed with its clear, fair light. 
 Not a single cloud curtained the splendour of the
 
 A LOVE STORY. 299 
 
 stars. What a rapturous soul was Ferdinand 
 Armine's as he sat that night on the old bench, 
 on Ducie Terrace, shrouding from the rising 
 breeze the trembling form of Henrietta Temple ! 
 And yet it was not cold that made her shiver. 
 
 The clock of Ducie church struck ten. She 
 moved, saying, in a faint voice, u We must go 
 home, my Ferdinand ! " 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 BRADBURY AND EVANS, PAINTERS, H HITES-RIARS.
 
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