He withdrew. An address so familiar, with a voice and countenance so
complacent, from Mr. Valmont to me, was food for reflection. The friend
too! The friend of my father!--I felt not the necessity of exercise. I
approached not the narrow stair-case. I thought not of the armoury. I
remained in one posture; and Andrew's entrance, with my dinner, first
broke in upon my reverie.
The meal ended and Andrew gone, it was resumed; and as long thinking
will ever bring something home to the affections, I had left Mr.
Valmont, his smiles, and his friend, to dwell on the image of my
Clement--when my uncle led into the room a man somewhat older in
appearance than himself, of an unmeaning countenance, whose profusion of
dress sat heavy on an insignificant form. I turned away scornfully; for
I thought it a profanation of the term to call this being _the friend of
my father_.
How long he staid I cannot exactly tell--too long I thought then. He
seemed to talk of me to Mr. Valmont; but to me he said little; and,
owing perhaps to my dislike of the man, that little I did not rightly
understand, and never attempted to answer.
When I saw Andrew in the evening, I ventured a few questions; and, with
difficulty, learned there was company in the castle who were not
expected to go away till late. I desired him to inform me as soon as
they had departed; and, accordingly, a little, before twelve, Andrew
opened my door, gave three distinct nods, shut it after him, and
departed.
I understood his signal. Never had I passed a day in the house before;
and I almost panted for the enjoyment of fresh air. The night was calm
and serene; and the moon shone with a frosty brightness in a clear
unclouded sky.
Wrapping myself in a cloak, I descended with a quick and joyful step.
Neither light nor sound existed in the castle; and, unbarring the heavy
doors, I sallied out in defiance of cold, to enjoy the lightness I then
felt at my heart. The moonbeam directed my course; and I turned up the
hill at the back part of the castle where no trees intercepted the
partial light.
Standing on the summit, I looked around and my eye caught the glittering
surface (made resplendent by the moon's reflection) of that small and
beautiful lake which you may remember rises on the skirts of my wood.
Thither I hastened; and, seated on the bank, I became enraptured with
the scene. All seemed in union with my mind; only, that an undisturbed
serenity reigned through nature; and, with the peace in my breast, a
tumult of delight claimed its share.
I sang. I gave vent to my pleasure in words; in exclamations!--till at
length the sound of two, from some very distant bell, floated through
the air, and I rose to regain the castle.
Never in day time did I quit the park without visiting our oak; and now,
when my heart bounded high with hope and pleasure, it would have been
impious thus to have departed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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