He had only time to remark the air and countenance of Damon and the young lady. They appeared mutually cold and embara.s.sed. He could trace in his friend the aukwardness and timidity of one who was unused to act a studied part. Miss Frampton, with a countenance uninterested and inattentive, affected the carriage of a person who thought herself insulted.

Lord Osborne was now announced. He was a young n.o.bleman, that had spent a considerable part of his fortune upon the continent. With a narrow understanding and a contracted heart, he had been able by habitual cunning and invincible effrontery, to acquire the reputation of a man of parts.

Courage was the only respectable quality, his possession of which could not be questioned. He was a debauchee and a gamester. There was no meanness he had not practised, there was no villainy of which he could not boast. With this character, he was universally respected and courted by all such as wished to acquire the reputation of men of gaiety and spirit.

The ladies were all dying for him, as for a man who had ruined more innocence, and occasioned a greater consumption of misery, than any other man in the kingdom.

The face of Miss Frampton visibly brightened the moment his name was articulated. She was all spirits and agitation, though she seemed to feel something aukward in her situation. When he entered the room, she flew half way to meet him, but, suddenly recollecting herself, stopt short. "My dear Miss Frampton," said his lordship, with a familiar and indifferent air, "I cannot stop a moment. I am mortified to death. The most unfortunate man! But I could not live a whole day without seeing you.

Believe me to be more impa.s.sioned, more ardent than ever." Saying this be directed a slight glance and a half bow towards our two friends. "Farewel, my charmer, my adorable!" said he, and kissed her hand. Miss Frampton struck him a slight blow with her fan, and crying, with an easy wink, "Remember!" she dropt him a profound curtesey and his lordship departed.

For a moment the whole company was silent. "By my soul," exclaimed sir William, "this is the most singular affair!" "Oh, nothing at all,"

answered the young lady. "It is all _a la mode de Paris_. In France no man of fashion can presume to accost a lady, whether young or old, but in the language of love. But it means no more, than when a minister of state says to his first clerk, _your humble servant_, or to the widow of a poor seaman, _your devoted slave_." "Oh," cried sir William, "that is all. And by my faith, it is mighty pretty. What think you Damon? I hope, when you are married, you will have no objection to lord Osborne, or any other person of fashion making love to your wife before your face."

"What an indelicate question!" said Miss Frampton. "I declare, baronet, you are grown an absolute boor. n.o.body ever talks of marriage now. A woman of fashion blushes to hear it mentioned before a third person." "Why, to say the truth, madam, I have been honoured with so great an intimacy by Damon, that I thought that might excuse the impropriety. And now, pray your ladyship, must I wait till we are alone, before I ask my friend whether his happy day be fixed?" "Since you will talk," said Miss Frampton, "of the odious subject, I believe I may tell you that it is not.

We are in no such hurry." "My dear sweet play-fellow," said the baronet, "I must tell you once for all that I am no adept in French fashions. So that you will give me leave to use the unceremonious language of an Englishman. My friend here, you know, is a little sheepish, but I have words at will. I thought matters had been nearer a termination." "And pray, my good sir, let the gentleman speak for himself. If he is not dissatisfied, why should you be in such haste?" "Indeed, madam,"

interposed Damon, "I am not perfectly satisfied. Perhaps indeed a lover ought to think himself happy enough in being permitted to dance attendance upon a lady of your charms. But I once thought, madam, that we had advanced somewhat farther." "I cannot tell," answered the lady with an air of levity. "Just as you please. But I cannot see why we should put ourselves to any inconvenience. Lord Osborne"--"Lord Osborne!" interrupted sir William with some warmth, "and pray what has his lordship to do with the matter?" "Really sir William," replied Miss Frampton, "you are very free. But his lordship is my friend, and I hope Damon has no objection to his continuing so." "Look you," answered sir William, "I would neither have lord Osborne for the rival of Damon now, nor for your _chichisbee_ hereafter." "And yet I am not sure," cried she, "that he may not be both." "Is there then," said the baronet, "no engagement subsisting between you and Damon?" "I believe," cried Miss Frampton, a little hesitating, "there may be something of the kind. But we may change our minds you know, and I do not think that I shall prosecute upon it. Ha!

ha! ha!" "To say the truth," replied sir William, "I believe lord Osborne is not only the rival of Damon, but a very formidable one too. But let me tell you, Bella, a character so respectable as that of my friend, and so true an Englishman, must not be allowed to dance attendance." "As he pleases. I believe we understand one another. And to say the truth at once, perhaps some time hence I may have no aversion to lord Osborne."

The reader will not suppose that the conversation continued much longer.

Damon and the young lady came to a perfect understanding, and parted without any very ungovernable desire of seeing each other again. And thus by the gay humour and active friendship of sir William Twyford, an affair was happily terminated, which, from the timidity and gentleness of our hero, might otherwise have lingered several months to the mutual dissatisfaction of both parties. Damon quitted the house in raptures, and was no sooner seated in the chariot, than he pressed his friend repeatedly to his breast, and committed a thousand extravagancies of joy.

CHAPTER IX.

_A tragical Resolution._

Damon and his friend spent the evening together in the chambers of our hero. They now discussed a variety of those subjects, which naturally arise between friends who have been for any time separated. Damon threw aside that reserve which the consciousness of a fault had hitherto involuntarily imposed upon him, and related more explicitly who the lady was of whom he was so much enamoured, and in what manner he had first seen her. Recollecting that the baronet was just returned from the environs of Southampton, he eagerly enquired into the health and situation of his mistress.

Sir William related to him the adventure of Mr. Prettyman, as we have already stated it to our readers, and deeply lamented the persecution to which Delia was subjected from the haughty victor. "And is there," cried Damon eagerly, "no prospect of his lordship's success?" "I believe,"

answered sir William, "that he is of all men her mortal aversion." "And is there no happy lover in all her train, that she regards with a partial eye?" "None," replied the baronet, "she is chaste as snow, and firm as mountain oaks." "Propitious coldness!" exclaimed Damon, "for that may heaven send down a thousand blessings on her head!"

"But you talked," added he, "of some occasion of your journey which you deferred relating to me." "The occasion," answered sir William, determined to preserve inviolate the secret of Delia, "is already fulfilled. I heard from young Eustace of the appearance and addresses of Osborne, and suspecting the rest, I determined to deliver you from the clutches of a girl whom I always thought unworthy of you. And now" added he cheerfully, "free as the winds, we can pursue uncontrolled the devices of our own hearts."

The next morning the two friends proceeded to the house of lord Thomas Villiers, the father of Damon. He had already learned something of the visits of lord Osborne at Beaufort Place. He was not therefore much surprised to hear of the scene, which had pa.s.sed between his son and the lady of that mansion. But there was something more to be done, in order to gain the approbation of the father to the new project, in the prosecution of which both these friends were equally sanguine.

Lord Thomas Villiers was, as we have already said, avaricious. He was not therefore much pleased with the proposal of a match with a lady, whose fortune was not the half of that of Miss Frampton. He was tinctured with the pride of family, and he could not patiently think for a moment, of marrying his only son to the daughter of a tradesman. Sir William employed all his eloquence, and accommodated himself with infinite dexterity to the humours of the person with whom he had to deal. Damon indeed said but little, but his looks expressed more, than the baronet, with all his abilities, and all his friendship, was able to suggest. In spite of both, the father continued inexorable.

The mind of Damon was impressed with the most exalted ideas upon the subject of filial duty. Had his heart been pre-engaged, before the affair of Miss Frampton was proposed to him, he might not perhaps have carried his complaisance so far, as to have married the indifferent person, in spite of all his views and all his prepossessions. But in his estimate, the actual entering into a connection for life in opposition to the will of a parent, was a mode of conduct very different from, and far more exceptionable than the refusing to unite oneself with a person in whose society one had not the smallest reason to look for happiness.

There was another inducement that had much weight with Damon, and even with his more sanguine friend, sir William Twyford. The fortune neither of Damon nor Delia was independent. Lord Thomas Villiers was filled with too many prepossessions and too much pride, easily to retract an opinion he had once adopted, or to forgive an opposition to his judgment. The narrow education of a tradesman it was natural to suppose had rendered the mind of Mr. Hartley still more tenacious, and unmanageable. And neither would sir William have been willing to see his friend, nor would the lover readily have involved his mistress in circ.u.mstances of pecuniary distress.

The resolution of Damon was therefore speedily taken. Every motive that could have weight, served to counteract the bias of his inclination. He by no means wanted either firmness or spirit. He resolved to struggle, nor to cease his efforts till he had conquered. With this design he entreated, and, after some difficulties, obtained of his father leave to enter himself in the army, and to make a campaign in America.

The character of his heart seemed particularly formed for military pursuits. He was grave and thoughtful, he was generous and humane. To a mind contemplative and full of sensibility, he united a temper, frank, open, and undisguised. He was usually mild, gentle and pliant. But in a situation, that called for determination and spirit, it was impossible to appear more bold and manly, more cool and decided,--Affectionate was the farewel of his father, and still more affectionate that of his friend.

Damon, though he endeavoured to summon all his resolution, could not restrain a sigh when he considered himself as about to sail for distant climates, and recollected, that probably, before his return, his beloved mistress, _dearer than life and all its joys_, would be united, irrevocably united to another. But here we must take leave of our hero, and return to his fair inamorata.

DAMON

AND

DELIA.

PART the SECOND.

DAMON

AND

DELIA.

PART the SECOND.

CHAPTER I.

_In which the Story begins over again_.

Sir William Twyford had taken care to inform Miss Fletcher, and by her means Delia herself, of every circ.u.mstance as it occurred. Delia was indeed flattered by the breach that had taken place with Miss Frampton, and the perfect elucidation, which the story of this lady afforded to the most enigmatical expressions of Damon, in the interesting scene that had pa.s.sed between them in the alcove. She no longer doubted of the reality of his attachment. Her heart was soothed, and her pride secretly flattered, in recollecting that she had not suffered herself to be caught by one who was perfectly indifferent to her.

But the information that stifled all her hopes, and gave her the prospect of so long, and, too probably, an eternal absence, sat heavy upon her spirits, and preyed upon her delicate const.i.tution. From the persecutions of lord Martin she had no respite. Her eye grew languid, the colour faded in her damask cheek, and her health visibly decayed.

At this time Miss Fletcher proposed a journey to Windsor and other places, and intreated to have her friend to accompany her. Mr. Hartley, with all his foibles, was much attached to his only child, and deeply afflicted with the alteration he perceived in her. He readily therefore gave his consent to the proposed jaunt. "When she returns, it will be time enough,"

said he to lord Martin, "to bring things to the conclusion, so much desired by both of us. I will not put my darling into your hands, but with that health and gaiety, which have so long been the solace of my old age, and which cannot fail to make any man happy that deserves her."

Delia set out without any other inclination, than to escape from intreaties that were become in the highest degree disagreeable to her. She was addressed no longer upon a topic, of which she wished never to hear.

Her eye was no longer wounded with the sight of her insolent admirer. This had an immediate and a favourable effect upon her. The conversation of Miss Fletcher was lively and unflagging, and the simplicity of her remarks proved an inexhaustible source of entertainment to our heroine.

They travelled leisurely and visited a variety of parks and seats of n.o.blemen which lay in their way. The taste of Delia was delicate and refined. A continual succession of objects; gardens, architecture, pictures and statues soothed her spirits, and gradually restored her to that gaiety and easiness of temper, which had long rendered her the most lovely and engaging of her s.e.x.

At length they arrived at Windsor. The simple dignity of the castle, its commanding situation, and the beautiful effects of the river from below, rendered it infinitely the most charming spot our heroine had yet seen.

Her spirits were on the wing, she was all life and conversation, and the most constant heart, that nature had ever produced, for a moment, forgot her hopes, her fears, her inclinations, and her Damon.

She was now standing at a window that commanded the terrace. The evening was beautiful, and the walk crouded. There were a.s.sembled persons of all s.e.xes and of different ranks. All appeared gaiety and splendour. The supple courtier and the haughty country gentleman seemed equally at their ease. There was thoughtless youth and narrative old age. The company pa.s.sed along, and object succeeded object without intermission.

One of the last that caught the eye of Delia, was that of two gentlemen walking arm in arm, and seeming more grave than the rest of the company.

They were both tall and well shaped; but one of them had somewhat more graceful and unembarra.s.sed in his manner than the other. The latter was dressed in black, the former in colours, with much propriety and elegance.

As they turned at the end of the walk the eye of Delia caught in the latter the figure of Damon. She was inexpressibly astonished, she trembled in every limb, and could scarcely support herself to a seat. Miss Fletcher had caught the same object at the same moment, and, though she probably might not otherwise have been clear in her recollection, the disorder of Delia put her conjecture out of doubt. She therefore, before our heroine had time to recollect herself, dispatched her brother, who had attended them in their journey, to inform Damon that a lady in the castle was desirous to speak with him.

In an instant our hero and his companion, escorted by young Fletcher, entered the room. The astonishment of Damon, at being so suddenly introduced to a person, whom he had never expected to see again, was immeasurable. He rushed forward with a kind of rapture; he suddenly recollected himself; but at length advanced with hesitation. There was no one present beside those we have already named. The castle was probably familiar to every person except Delia and her companions. Every one beside was therefore a.s.sembled upon the terrace.