Lucretia | Page 9

her words to her companion,--"do not alarm
yourself by exaggerating the difficulties; do not even contemplate them:
those be my care. Mainwaring, when I loved you; when, seeing that
your diffidence or your pride forbade you to be the first to speak, I
overstepped the modesty or the dissimulation of my sex; when I said,
'Forget that I am the reputed heiress of Laughton, see in me but the
faults and merits of the human being, of the wild unregulated girl, see
in me but Lucretia Clavering'" (here her cheeks blushed, and her voice
sank into a lower and more tremulous whisper) "'and love her if you
can!'--when I went thus far, do not think I had not measured all the
difficulties in the way of our union, and felt that I could surmount
them."
"But," answered Mainwaring, hesitatingly, "can you conceive it
possible that your uncle ever will consent? Is not pride--the pride of
family-- almost the leading attribute of his character? Did he not
discard your mother--his own sister--from his house and heart for no
other offence but a second marriage which he deemed beneath her? Has
he ever even consented to see, much less to receive, your half-sister, the
child of that marriage? Is not his very affection for you interwoven with
his pride in you, with his belief in your ambition? Has he not
summoned your cousin, Mr. Vernon, for the obvious purpose of
favouring a suit which he considers worthy of you, and which, if
successful, will unite the two branches of his ancient house? How is it
possible that he can ever hear without a scorn and indignation which
would be fatal to your fortunes that your heart has presumed to choose,
in William Mainwaring, a man without ancestry or career?"
"Not without career," interrupted Lucretia, proudly. "Do you think if
you were master of Laughton that your career would not be more
brilliant than that of yon indolent, luxurious coxcomb? Do you think
that I could have been poor-hearted enough to love you if I had not
recognized in you energies and talents that correspond with my own
ambition? For I am ambitious, as you know, and therefore my mind, as

well as my heart, went with my love for you."
"Ah, Lucretia, but can Sir Miles St. John see my future rise in my
present obscurity?"
"I do not say that he can, or will; but if you love me, we can wait. Do
not fear the rivalry of Mr. Vernon. I shall know how to free myself
from so tame a peril. We can wait,--my uncle is old; his habits preclude
the chance of a much longer life; he has already had severe attacks. We
are young, dear Mainwaring: what is a year or two to those who hope?"
Mainwaring's face fell, and a displeasing chill passed through his veins.
Could this young creature, her uncle's petted and trusted darling, she
who should be the soother of his infirmities, the prop of his age, the
sincerest mourner at his grave, weigh coldly thus the chances of his
death, and point at once to the altar and the tomb?
He was saved from the embarrassment of reply by Dalibard's approach.
"More than half an hour absent," said the scholar, in his own language,
with a smile; and drawing out his watch, he placed it before their eyes.
"Do you not think that all will miss you? Do you suppose, Miss
Clavering, that your uncle has not ere this asked for his fair niece?
Come, and forestall him." He offered his arm to Lucretia as he spoke.
She hesitated a moment, and then, turning to Mainwaring, held out her
hand. He pressed it, though scarcely with a lover's warmth; and as she
walked back to the terrace with Dalibard, the young man struck slowly
into the opposite direction, and passing by a gate over a foot-bridge that
led from the ha-ha into the park, bent his way towards a lake which
gleamed below at some distance, half-concealed by groves of venerable
trees rich with the prodigal boughs of summer. Meanwhile, as they
passed towards the house, Dalibard, still using his native tongue, thus
accosted his pupil:--
"You must pardon me if I think more of your interests than you do; and
pardon me no less if I encroach on your secrets and alarm your pride.
This young man,--can you be guilty of the folly of more than a passing
caprice for his society, of more than the amusement of playing with his
vanity? Even if that be all, beware of entangling yourself in your own

meshes."
"You do in truth offend me," said Lucretia, with calm haughtiness, "and
you have not the right thus to speak to me."
"Not the right," repeated the Provencal, mournfully,