The Monk - Matthew Gregory Lewis [90]
He, who thought it necessary to maintain himself in her good graces, strove to console her under her disappointment by committing a little violence upon truth.
“Ah! segnora,” he replied in a melancholy voice, “how grieved will he be at losing this opportunity of paying you his respects! A relation’s illness has obliged him to quit Madrid in haste: but on his return he will doubtless seize the first moment with transport to throw himself at your feet!”
As he said this, his eyes met those of Elvira: she punished his falsehood sufficiently by darting at him a look expressive of displeasure and reproach. Neither did the deceit answer his intention. Vexed and disappointed, Leonella rose from her seat, and retired in dudgeon to her own apartment.
Lorenzo hastened to repair the fault which had injured him in Elvira’s opinion. He related his conversation with the marquis respecting her: he assured her that Raymond was prepared to acknowledge her for his brother’s widow; and that, till it was in his power to pay his compliments to her in person, Lorenzo was commissioned to supply his place. This intelligence relieved Elvira from an heavy weight of uneasiness: she had now found a protector for the fatherless Antonia, for whose future fortunes she had suffered the greatest apprehensions. She was not sparing of her thanks to him, who had interfered so generously in her behalf; but still she gave him no invitation to repeat his visit. However, when upon rising to depart he requested permission to enquire after her health occasionally, the polite earnestness of his manner, gratitude for his services, and respect for his friend the marquis, would not admit of a refusal. She consented reluctantly to receive him: he promised not to abuse her goodness, and quitted the house.
Antonia was now left alone with her mother: a temporary silence ensued. Both wished to speak upon the same subject, but neither knew how to introduce it. The one felt a bashfulness which sealed up her lips, and for which she could not account; the other feared to find her apprehensions true, or to inspire her daughter with notions to which she might be still a stranger. At length Elvira began the conversation.
“That is a charming young man, Antonia; I am much pleased with him. Was he long near you yesterday in the cathedral?”
“He quitted me not for a moment while I staid in the church: he gave me his seat, and was very obliging and attentive.”
“Indeed? Why then have you never mentioned his name to me? Your aunt launched out in praise of his friend, and you vaunted Ambrosio’s eloquence: but neither said a word of Don Lorenzo’s person and accomplishments. Had not Leonella spoken of his readiness to undertake our cause, I should not have known him to be in existence.”
She paused. Antonia coloured, but was silent.
“Perhaps you judge him less favourably than I do. In my opinion his figure is pleasing, his conversation sensible, and manners engaging. Still he may have struck you differently: you may think him disagreeable, and——”
“Disagreeable? Oh! dear mother, how should I possibly think him so? I should be very ungrateful were I not sensible of his kindness yesterday, and very blind if his merits had escaped me. His figure is so graceful, so noble! His manners so gentle, yet so manly! I never yet saw so many accomplishments united in one person, and I doubt whether Madrid can produce his equal.”
“Why then were you so silent in praise of this phœnix of Madrid? Why was it concealed from me, that his society had afforded you pleasure?”
“In truth, I know not: you ask me a question which I cannot resolve myself. I was on the point of mentioning him a thousand times; his name was constantly on my lips; but when I would have pronounced it, I wanted courage