the storm was past. he vowed that a dark thought should not again cross his mind. it was fated that she should not be his; but it was some miserable satisfaction that he was only rejected in favour of an attachment which had grown with her years, and had strengthened with her stature, and in deference to an engagement hallowed by time as well as by affection. it was deadly indeed to remember that fate seemed to have destined him for that happy position, and that his folly had rejected the proffered draught of bliss. he blasphemed against the fitz-pompeys. however, he did not leave dacre at the same time as arundel, but lingered on. his affairs were far from being arranged. the irish business gave great trouble, and he determined therefore to remain.
it was ridiculous to talk of feeding a passion which was not susceptible of increase. her society was heaven; and he resolved to enjoy it, although he was to be expelled. as for his loss of fortune, it gave him not a moment’s care. without her, he felt he could not live in england, and, even ruined, he would be a match for an italian prince.
so he continued her companion, each day rising with purer feelings and a more benevolent heart; each day more convinced of the falseness of his past existence, and of the possibility of happiness to a well-regulated mind; each day more conscious that duty is nothing more than self-knowledge, and the performance of it consequently the development of feelings which are the only true source of self-gratification. he mourned over the opportunities which he had forfeited of conducing to the happiness of others and himself. sometimes he had resolved to remain in england and devote himself to his tenantry; but passion blinded him, and he felt that he had erred too far ever to regain the right road.
the election for which arundel dacre was a candidate came on. each day the state of the poll arrived. it was nearly equal to the last. their agitation was terrible, but forgotten in the deep mortification which they experienced at the announcement of his defeat. he talked to the public boldly of petitioning, and his certainty of ultimate success; but he let them know privately that he had no intention of the first, and no chance of the second. even mr. dacre could mot conceal his deep disappointment; but may was quite in despair. even if her father could find means of securing him a seat another time, the present great opportunity was lost.
‘surely we can make some arrangement for next session,’ said the duke, whispering hope to her.
‘oh! no, no, no; so much depended upon this. it is not merely his taking a part in the debate, but — but arundel is so odd, and everything was staked upon this. i cannot tell you what depended upon it. he will leave england directly.’
she did not attempt to conceal her agitation. the duke rose, and paced the room in a state scarcely less moved. a thought had suddenly flashed upon him. their marriage doubtless depended upon this success. he knew something of arundel dacre, and had heard more. he was convinced of the truth of his suspicion. either the nephew would not claim her hand until he had carved out his own fortunes, or perhaps the uncle made his distinction the condition of his consent. yet this was odd. it was all odd. a thousand things had occurred which equally puzzled him. yet he had seen enough to weigh against a thousand thoughts.
