“Your frankness charms me,” replied Lorenzo: “You shall find, that in your favourable opinion of me you were not deceived; yet I hope that the reasons now in my power to allege, will persuade you to withdraw a request which I cannot obey without infinite reluctance. I love your daughter, love her most sincerely; I wish for no greater happiness than to inspire her with the same sentiments, and receive her hand at the altar as her husband. ’Tis true I am not rich myself, my father’s death has left me but little in my own possession; but my expectations justify my pretending to the Condé de las Cisternas’ daughter.”
He was proceeding, but Elvira interrupted him——
“Ah! Don Lorenzo, you forget in that pompous title the meanness of my origin. You forget that I have now passed fourteen years in Spain, disavowed by my husband’s family, and existing upon a stipend barely sufficient for the support and education of my daughter. Nay, I have even been neglected by most of my own relations, who out of envy affect to doubt the reality of my marriage. My allowance being discontinued at my father-in-law’s death, I was reduced to the very brink of want. In this situation I was found by my sister, who, amongst all her foibles, possesses a warm, generous, and affectionate heart. She aided me with the little fortune which my father left her, persuaded me to visit Madrid, and has supported my child and myself since our quitting Murcia. Then, consider not Antonia as descended from the Condé de las Cisternas; consider her as a poor and unprotected orphan, as the grand-child of the tradesman Torribio Dalfa, as the needy pensioner of that tradesman’s daughter. Reflect upon the difference between such a situation and that of the nephew and heir of the potent duke of Medina. I believe your intentions to be honourable; but as there are no hopes that your uncle will approve of the union, I foresee that the consequences of your attachment must be fatal to my child’s repose.”
“Pardon me, Segnora; you are misinformed if you suppose the duke of Medina to resemble the generality of men. His sentiments are liberal and disinterested; he loves me well, and I have no reason to dread his forbidding the marriage, when he perceives that my happiness depends upon Antonia. But supposing him to refuse his sanction, what have I still to fear? My parents are no more; my little fortune is in my own possession; it will be sufficient to support Antonia, and I shall exchange for her hand Medina’s dukedom without one sigh of regret.”
“You are young and eager; it is natural for you to entertain such ideas. But experience has taught me to my cost, that curses accompany an unequal alliance. I married the Condé de las Cisternas in opposition to the will of his relations; many an heart-pang has punished me for the imprudent step. Wherever we bent our course, a father’s execration pursued Gonzalvo. Poverty overtook us, and no friend was near to relieve our wants. Still our mutual affection existed, but, alas! not without interruption. Accustomed to wealth and ease, ill could my husband support the transition to distress and indigence. He looked back with repining to the comforts which he once enjoyed. He regretted the situation which for my sake he had quitted; and, in moments when despair possessed his mind, has reproached me with having made him the companion of want and wretchedness. He has called me his bane! the source of his sorrows, the cause of his destruction! Ah! God! he little knew how much keener were my own heart’s reproaches! He was ignorant that I suffered trebly, for myself, for my children, and for him! ’Tis true that his anger seldom lasted long: his sincere affection for me soon revived in his heart, and then his repentance for the tears which he had made me shed, tortured me even more than his reproaches. He would throw himself on the ground, implore my forgiveness in the most frantic terms, and load himself with curses for being the murderer of my repose. Taught by experience, that an union contracted against the inclinations of families on either side must be unfortunate, I will save my daughter from those miseries which I have suffered. Without your uncle’s consent, while I live, she never shall be yours. Undoubtedly he will disapprove of the union; his power is immense, and Antonia shall not be exposed to his anger and persecution.”
“His persecution? How easily may that be avoided! Let the worst happen, it is but quitting Spain. My wealth may easily be realised. The Indian islands will offer us a secure retreat. I have an estate, though not of value, in Hispaniola: thither will we fly, and I shall consider it to be my native country, if it gives me Antonia’s undisturbed possession.”
“Ah! youth, this is a fond, romantic vision. Gonzalvo thought the same. He fancied that he could leave Spain without regret; but the moment of parting undeceived him. You know not yet what it is to quit your native land: to quit it, never to behold it more! You know not what it is to exchange the scenes where you have passed your infancy, for unknown realms and barbarous climates!—to be forgotten, utterly, eternally forgotten by the companions of your youth!—to see your dearest friends, the fondest objects of your affection, perishing with diseases incidental to Indian atmospheres, and find yourself unable to procure for them necessary assistance! I have felt all this! My husband and two sweet babes found their graves in Cuba: nothing would have saved my young Antonia, but my sudden return to Spain. Ah! Don Lorenzo, could you conceive what I suffered during my absence! Could you know how sorely I regretted all that I left behind, and how dear to me was the very name of Spain! I envied the winds which blew towards it: and when the Spanish sailor chaunted some well-known air as he passed my window, tears filled my eyes, while I thought upon my native land. Gonzalvo too——my husband——”
Elvira paused. Her voice faltered, and she concealed her face with her handkerchief. After a short silence she rose from the sopha, and proceeded——
“Excuse my quitting you for a few moments: the remembrance of what I have suffered has much agitated me, and I need to be alone. Till I return, peruse these lines. After my husband’s death I found them among his papers. Had I known sooner that he entertained such sentiments, grief would have killed me. He wrote these verses on his voyage to Cuba, when his mind was clouded by sorrow, and he forgot that he had a wife and children. What we are losing ever seems to us the most precious. Gonzalvo was quitting Spain for ever, and therefore was Spain dearer to his eyes than all else which the world contained. Read them, Don Lorenzo, they will give you some idea of the feelings of a banished man.”
Elvira put a paper into Lorenzo’s hand, and retired from the chamber. The youth examined the contents, and found them to be as follows:
THE EXILE.
Farewell, oh native Spain! farewell for ever!
These banished eyes shall view thy coasts no more:
A mournful presage tells my heart, that never
Gonzalvo’s steps again shall press thy shore.
Hushed are the winds; while soft the vessel sailing
With gentle motion plows the unruffled main,
I feel my bosom’s boasted courage failing,
And curse the waves which bear me far from Spain.
I see it yet! Beneath yon blue clear heaven
Still do the spires, so well-beloved, appear.
From yonder craggy point the gale of even
Still wafts my native accents to mine ear.
Propped on some moss-crowned rock, and gaily singing,
There in the sun his nets the fisher dries;
Oft have I heard the plaintive ballad, bringing
Scenes of past joys before my sorrowing eyes.
Ah! happy swain! he waits the accustomed hour,