The Heroine. Barrett Eaton Stannard

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      'I will!' exclaimed he, pacing the chamber with long strides, and slapping his heart, 'and I call all the stars of respectability to witness the vow. Then, Lady Cherubina,' continued he, stopping short before me; 'then, when maddened and emaciated, I shall pillow my haggard head on a hard rock, and lulled by the hurricanes of Heaven, shall sink into the sleep of the grave.' —

      'Dear Montmorenci!' said I, quite overcome, 'live for my sake – as you value my – friendship, – live.'

      'Friendship!' echoed he. 'Oh! Cherubina, Oh! my soul's precious treasure, say not that icy word. Say hatred, disgust, horror; any thing but friendship.'

      'What shall I say?' cried I, ineffably affected, 'or what shall I do?'

      'What you please,' muttered he, looking wild and pressing his forehead. 'My brain is on fire. Hark! chains are clanking – The furies are whipping me with their serpents – What smiling cherub arrests yon bloody hand? Ha! 'tis Cherubina. And now she frowns at me – she darts at me – she pierces my heart with an arrow of ice!'

      He threw himself on the floor, groaned grievously, and tore his hair. I was horror-struck.

      'I declare,' said I, 'I would say any thing on earth to relieve you; – only tell me what.'

      'Angel of light!' exclaimed he, springing upon his feet, and beaming on me a smile that might liquefy marble. 'Have I then hope? Dare I say it? Dare I pronounce the divine words, she loves me?'

      'I am thine and thou art mine!' murmured I, while the room swam before me.

      He took both my hands in his own, pressed them to his forehead and lips, and leaned his burning cheek upon them.

      'My sight is confused,' said he, 'my breathing is opprest; I hear nothing, my veins swell, a palpitation seizes my heart, and I scarcely know where I am, or whether I exist!'

      Then softly encircling my waist with his arm, he pressed me to his heart. With what modesty I tried to extricate myself from his embrace; yet with what willing weakness I trembled on his bosom. It was Cherubina's hand that fell on his shoulder, it was Cherubina's tress that played on his cheek, it was Cherubina's sigh that breathed on his lip.

      'Moment of a pure and exquisite emotion!' cried he. 'In the life of man you are known but once; yet once known, can you ever be forgotten? Now to die would be to die most blest!'

      Suddenly he caught me under the chin, and kissed me. I struggled from him, and sprang to the other end of the room, while my neck and face were suffused with a glow of indignation.

      'Really,' said I, panting with passion, 'this is so unprovoked, so presuming.'

      He cast himself at my feet, execrated his folly, and swore that he had merely fulfilled an etiquette indispensible among lovers in his own country.

      ''Tis not usual here, my lord,' said I; 'and I have no notion of submitting to any freedom that is not sanctioned by the precedent of those exalted models whom I have the honour to imitate.

      'I fancy, my lord, you will find, that, as far as a kiss on the hand, or an arm round the waist, they have no particular objection. But a salute on the lip is considered inaccurate. My lord, on condition that you never repeat the liberty, here is my hand.'

      He snatched it with ardor, and strained it to his throbbing bosom.

      'And now,' cried he, 'make my happiness complete, by making this hand mine for ever.'

      On a sudden an air of dignified grandeur involved my form. My mind, for the first time, was called upon to reveal its full force. It felt the solemnity of the appeal, and triumphed in its conscious ability.

      'What!' cried I, 'knowest thou not the fatal, the inscrutable, the mysterious destiny, which must ever prevent our union?'

      'Speak, I conjure you,' cried he, 'or I expire on the spot.'

      'Alas!' exclaimed I, 'can'st thou suppose the poor orphan Cherubina so destitute of principle and of pride, as to intrude herself unknown, unowned, unfriended; mysterious in her birth, and degraded in her situation, on the ancient and illustrious House of Montmorenci?

      'Here then I most solemnly vow, never to wed, till the horrible mystery which hangs over my birth be developed.'

      You know, Biddy, that a heroine ought always to snatch at an opportunity of making a fatal vow. When things are going on too smooth, and interest drooping, a fatal vow does wonders. I remember reading in some romance, of a lady, who having vowed never to divulge a certain secret, kept it twenty years; and with such inviolability, that she lived to see it the death of all her children, several of her friends, and a fine old aunt.

      As soon as I had made this fatal vow, his lordship fell into the most afflicting agonies and attitudes.

      'Oh!' cried he, 'to be by your side, to see you, touch you, talk to you, love you, adore you, and yet find you lost to me for ever. Oh! 'tis too much, too much.'

      'The milliner is here, Miss,' said the maid, tapping at the door.

      'Bid her call again,' said I.

      'Beloved of my soul!' murmured his lordship.

      'Ma'am,' interrupted the maid, opening the door, 'she cannot call again, as she must go from this to Kensington.'

      'Then let her come in,' said I, and she entered with a charming assortment of bonnets and dresses.

      'We will finish the scene another time,' whispered I to his lordship.

      His lordship swore that he would drop dead that instant.

      The milliner declared that she had brought me the newest patterns.

      'On my honour,' said I to his lordship, 'you shall finish this scene to-morrow morning, if you wish it.'

      'You may go and be – Heigho!' said he, suddenly checking himself. What he was about to say, I know not; something mysterious, I should think, by the knitting of his brows. However, he snatched his spear, shield, and helmet, made a low bow, laid his hand on his heart, and stalked out of the chamber. Interesting youth!

      I then ran in debt for some millinery, drank hartshorn, and chafed my temples.

      I think I was right about the kiss. I confess I am not one of those girls who try to attract men through the medium of the touch; and who thus excite passion at the expence of respect. Lips are better employed in sentiment, than in kissing. Indeed, had I not been fortified by the precedent of other heroines, I should have felt, and I fear, did actually feel, even the classical embrace of Montmorenci too great a freedom. But remember I am still in my noviciate. After a little practice, I shall probably think it rather a pleasure to be strained, and prest, and folded to the heart. Yet of this I am certain, that I shall never attain sufficient hardihood to ravish a kiss from a man's mouth; as the divine Heloise did; who once ran at St. Preux, and astonished him with the most balmy and remarkable kiss upon record. Poor fellow! he was never the same after it.

      I must say too, that Montmorenci did not shew much judgment in urging me to marry him, before I had undergone adventures for four volumes. Because, though the heroic etiquette allowed me to fall in love at first sight, and confess it at second sight, yet it would not authorize me to marry myself off quite so smoothly. A heroine is never to be got without agony and adventure. Even the ground must be lacerated, before it will bring forth fruits, and often we cannot reach the lovely violet, till we СКАЧАТЬ