CHAPTER 15
DARNFORD returned the memoirs to Maria, with a most affectionate letter, in
which he reasoned on "the absurdity of the laws respecting matrimony, which,
till divorces could be more easily obtained, was," he declared, "the
most insufferable bondage." Ties of this nature could not bind minds governed
by superior principles; and such beings were privileged to act above the
dictates of laws they had no voice in framing, if they had sufficient strength
of mind to endure the natural consequence. In her case, to talk of duty, was a
farce, excepting what was due to herself. Delicacy, as well as reason, forbade
her ever to think of returning to her husband: was she then to restrain her
charming sensibility through mere prejudice? These arguments were not
absolutely impartial, for he disdained to conceal, that, when he appealed to
her reason, he felt that he had some interest in her heart.--The conviction was
not more transporting, than sacred--a thousand times a day, he asked himself
how he had merited such happiness?--and as often he determined to purify the heart
she deigned to inhabit--He intreated to be again
admitted to her presence.
He was; and the tear which glistened in his eye, when he respectfully pressed
her to his bosom, rendered him peculiarly dear to the unfortunate mother. Grief
had stilled the transports of love, only to render their mutual tenderness more
touching. In former interviews, Darnford had
contrived, by a hundred little pretexts, to sit near her, to take her hand, or
to meet her eyes--now it was all soothing affection, and esteem seemed to have rivalled love. He adverted to her narrative, and spoke with
warmth of the oppression she had endured.—His eyes, glowing with a lambent
flame, told her how much he wished to restore her to liberty and love; but he
kissed her hand, as if it had been that of a saint; and spoke of the loss of
her child, as if it had been his own.--What could have been more flattering to
Maria?—Every instance of self-denial was registered in her heart, and she loved
him, for loving her too well to give way to the transports of passion.
They met again and again; and Darnford declared,
while passion suffused his cheeks, that he never before knew what it was to
love.--
One morning Jemima informed Maria, that her master intended to wait on her,
and speak to her without witnesses. He came, and brought a letter with him,
pretending that he was ignorant of its contents, though he insisted on having
it returned to him. It was from the attorney already mentioned, who informed
her of the death of her child, and hinted, "that she could not now have a
legitimate heir, and that, would she make over the half of her fortune during
life, she should be conveyed to Dover, and permitted to pursue her plan of
travelling."
Maria answered with warmth, "That she had no terms to make with the murderer
of her babe, nor would she purchase liberty at the price of her own
respect."
She began to expostulate with her jailor; but he sternly bade her "Be silent--he
had not gone so far, not to go further."
Darnford came in the
evening. Jemima was obliged to be absent, and she, as usual, locked the door on
them, to prevent interruption or discovery.--The lovers were, at first,
embarrassed; but fell insensibly into confidential discourse. Darnford represented, "that they might soon be
parted," and wished her "to put it out of the power of fate to separate
them."
As her husband she now received him, and he solemnly pledged himself as her
protector--and eternal friend.--
There was one peculiarity in Maria's mind: she was more anxious not to deceive,
than to guard against deception; and had rather trust without sufficient
reason, than be for ever the prey of doubt. Besides,
what are we, when the mind has, from reflection, a certain kind of elevation, which
exalts the contemplation above the little concerns of prudence! We see what we
wish, and make a world of our own--and, though reality may sometimes open a
door to misery, yet the moments of happiness procured by the imagination, may,
without a paradox, be reckoned among the solid comforts of life. Maria now,
imagining that she had found a being of celestial mould--was happy,--nor was
she deceived.--He was then plastic in her impassioned hand--and reflected all
the sentiments which animated and warmed her.*
* Two and a half lines of dashes
follow here in the original[Publisher's note].