Selected Works of Eliza Haywood

Love in Excess - Part 2

Each day we break the bond of human laws
For love, and vindicate the common cause.
Laws for defence of civil rights are placed,
Love throws the fences down, and makes a gen'ral waste.
Maids, widows, wives, without distinction fall,
The sweeping deluge Love comes on and covers all.
—— Dryden

The contentment that appeared in the faces of the new married pair, added so much to the impatience of the Chevalier Brillian to see his beloved Ansellina, that in a few days after the wedding, he took leave of them, and departed for Amiens. But as human happiness is seldom of long continuance, and Alovisa placing the ultimate of hers in the possession of her charming husband, and secure of that, despised all future events, 'twas time for Fortune, who long enough had smiled, now to turn her wheel, and punish the presumption that defied her power.

As they were one day at dinner, a messenger came to acquaint Count D'Elmont that Monsieur Frankville was taken suddenly so violently ill, that his physicians despaired of his life, and that he begged to speak with him immediately. This gentleman had been guardian to the Count during his minority, and the care and faithfulness with which that trust had been discharged made him with reason regret the danger of losing so good a friend. He delayed the visit not a moment, and found him as the servant had told him, in a condition as could cherish no hopes of recovery; as soon as he perceived the Count come into the chamber, he desired to be left alone with him, which order being presently obeyed, "My dear charge," said he taking him by the hand and pressing it to his trembling bosom, "you see me at the point of death, but the knowledge of your many virtues, and the confidence I have that you will not deny me the request I am about to ask, makes me support the thoughts of it with moderation." The other assuring him of his readiness to serve him in any command, encouraged the old gentleman to prosecute his discourse in this manner: "You are not ignorant, my lord," rejoined he, "that my son (the only one I have) is on his travels, gone by my approbation, and his own desires to make the tour of Europe; but I have a daughter, whose protection I would entreat you to undertake; her education in a monastery has hitherto kept her entirely unacquainted with the gaieties of a court, or the conversation of the beau monde, and I have sent for her to Paris purposely to introduce her into company, proper for a young lady, who I never designed for a recluse; I know not whether she will be here time enough to close my eyes, but if you will promise to receive her into your house, and not suffer her artless and unexperienced youth to fall into those snares which are daily laid for innocence, and take so far a care, that neither she, not the fortune I leave her, be thrown away upon a man unworthy of her, I shall die well satisfied." D'Elmont answered this request, with repeated assurances of fulfilling it, and frankly offered, if he had no other person in whom he rather would confide, to take the management of the whole estate he left behind him, till young Frankville should return. The anxious father was transported at this favour, and thanked him in terms full of gratitude and affection; they spent some hours in settling this affair, and perhaps had not ended it so soon, if word had not been brought that the young lady his daughter was alighted at the gate; 'tis impossible to express the joy which filled the old gentleman's heart at this news, and he began afresh to put the Count in mind of what he had promised concerning her. As they were in this endearing, though mournful entertainment, the matchless Melliora entered, the surprise and grief for her father's indisposition (having heard of it but since she came into the house) hindered her from regarding anything but him, and throwing herself on her knees by the bed-side, washed the hand which he stretched out to raise her with, in a flood of tears, accompanied with expressions, which unstudied, and incoherent as they were, had a delicacy in them, that showed her wit not inferior to her tenderness, and that no circumstance could render her otherwise than the most lovely person in the world; when the first transports of her sorrow were over, and that with much ado she was persuaded to rise from the posture she was in, "The affliction I see thee in my dear child," said her father, "would be a vast addition to the agonies I feel, were I not so happy as to be provided with means for a mitigation of it; think not in losing me thou wilt be left wholly an orphan, this worthy lord will dry thy tears. Therefore, my last commands to thee shall be to oblige thee to endeavour to deserve the favours he is pleased to do us in accepting thee for —" He would have proceeded, but his physicians (who had been in consultation in the next room) coming in prevented him, and Count D'Elmont taking the charming Melliora by the hand, led her to the window, and beginning to speak some words of consolation to her, the softness of his voice, and graceful manner with which he delivered himself (always the inseparable companions of his discourse, but now more particularly so) made her cast her eyes upon him; but alas, he was not an object to be safely gazed at, and in spite of the grief she was in, she found something in his form which dissipated it; a kind of painful pleasure, a mixture of surprise, and joy, and doubt ran through her in an instant; her father's words suggested to her imagination, that she was in a possibility of calling the charming person that stood before her, by a name more tender than that of guardian, all the actions, looks, and address of D'Elmont served but to confirm her in that belief. For now it was that this insensible began to feel the power of beauty, and that heart which had so long been impregnable surrendered in a moment, the first sight of Melliora gave him a discomposure he had never felt before, he sympathized in all her sorrows, and was ready to join his tears with hers, but when her eyes met his, the god of love seemed there to have united all his lightnings for one effectual blaze; their admiration of each other's perfections was mutual, and though he had got the start in love, as being touched with that almighty dart, before her affliction had given her leave to regard him, yet the softness of her soul, made up for that little loss of time, and it was hard to say whose passion was the strongest; she listened to his condolements, and assurances of everlasting friendship with a pleasure which was but too visible in her countenance, and more enflamed the Count. As they were exchanging glances, as if each vied with the other who should dart the fiercest rays, they heard a sort of ominous whispering about the bed, and presently one of those who stood near it beckoned them to come thither; the physicians had found Monsieur Frankville in a much worse condition than they left him in, and soon after perceived evident symptoms in him of approaching death, and indeed there were but a very few moments between him and that other unfathomable world; the use of speech had left him, and he could take no other leave of his dear daughter than with his eyes; which sometimes were cast tenderly on her, sometimes on the Count, with a beseeching look as it were to conjure him to be careful to his charge, then up to Heaven, as witness of the trust he reposed in him. There could not be a scene more melancholy than this dumb farewell, and Melliora, whose soft disposition had never before been shocked, had not courage to support so dreadful a one as this, but fell upon the bed just as her father breathed his last, as motionless as he. It is impossible to represent the agonies which filled the heart of D'Elmont at this view, he took her in his arms, and assisted those who were endeavouring to recover her, with a wildness in his countenance, a trembling horror shaking all his fabric in such a manner, as might have easily discovered to the spectators (if they had not been too busily employed to take notice of it) that he was actuated by a motive far more powerful than that of compassion. As soon as she came to herself, they forced her from the dead body of her father (to which she clung) and carried her into another room, and it being judged convenient that she should be removed from that house, where everything would serve but to remind her of her loss; the Count desired the servants of Monsieur Frankville should be called, and then in the presence of them all, declared their master's last request, and ordered an account of all affairs should be brought to his house, where he would immediately conduct their young lady as he had promised her father. If Melliora had been without any other cause of grief, this éclaircissement had been sufficient to have made her miserable. She had already entertained a most tender affection for the Count, and had not so little discernment as not to be sensible she had made the like impression on him; but now she waked as from a dream of promised joys, to certain woes, and the same hour which gave birth to her passion, commenced an adequate despair, and killed her hopes just budding.