Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 179: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

166 JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT nor Ayellino. Such were my impressions: and they were natural enough. You cannot therefore wonder that I passed you coldly in the street, or that I should eyen haye made up my mind to await an opportunity for inflicting punishment upon you. But I strongly deprecated my son’s subsequent violence—and still more his folly insummoning you before the legal authorities.’ The Count of Tivoli paused for a few moments, and then resumed in the following manner :— “T did not for a moment imagine that you con- tinued to be a yisitor at whatsoever place my daughter had taken up her abode: it was there- fore upon Signor Ayellino’s moyements that I em- ployed police-agents to institute an espial. How- ever, I am extending my explanations beyond the limit which I had purposed: and yet if I enter thus into detail, it is that I may the better excuse myself for the injustice which you, Mr. Wilmot, have experienced at the hands of myself and my son. My daughter has told me everything—the circumstances under which you brought her to Rome—the mystery with which she enshrouded herself—the delicacy of your conduct towards her —then the noble generosity which you displayed on learning that she was ill and in distress—and the fact that until yesterday you remained in ignorance of who she really was. That when acci- dentally learning this secret, and having been pre- viously made aware of Signor Avellino’s attach- ment for my daughter, you should haye thought to befriend those with whom, at your age, you might naturally sympathize—cannot be held as a very great crime in the estimation of a just and reasonable man. At all events, Lowe you so much reparation for the injustice done you by myself and my son—and I owe you so much gratitude for your magnanimous as well as humane and delicate conduct towards my daughter—that I dare not for another instant suffer your interference on Signor Avellino’s behalf to weigh with me prejudicially against you. I therefore hope, Mr. Wilmot, that all the past will be on both sides forgotten ?” “ With pleasure, my lord!’ I exclaimed: “ and truly delighted am I that Imo longer stand as an object of suspicion in your eyes.” “ Signor Avellino,” resumed the Count of Tivoli, now addressing himself to my friend, “ your own conduct must be viewed in a more fayourable light since I have learnt everything from the lips of my daughter. Now that I find you were in no way privy to her escape from the convent—nor even the instigator thereof—but that until yester- day you were in total ignorance of everything that had occurred, I cannot continue to feel that same animosity which led me to set sbirri upon your track and provoke your arrest. I will even admit that it was natural enough for a young man to avail himself of the opportunity of obtaining an | interview with the young lady whom he loyes, and | who for his sake alone has placed herself in a most peculiar position. But let me give youa few words of explanation as to my motive in deciding that yourself and Mr. Wilmot should be brought to the palace of his Eminence. I knew not whether a secret marriage might not have been solemnized between my daughter and yourself: I knew no- thing—lI could discover nothing—until the police- agents traced you just now to that obscure street where I at length found my daughter. It fortu- nately happened that my son and myself were at home when the intimation was hurriedly sent off that you had secreted yourself in that poor coffee. house—that Mr. Wilmot had just been seen in the same street—and that there was consequently every reason to hope the search was upon the point of proving successful. Accompanied by my son, I sped into that neighbourhood: but I repeat that until I had seen my daughter and learnt everything from her lips, I was in total ignorance of how matters really stood. Therefore on falling in with you, I had to proyide against any contingency that might possibly come to my knowledge; and hence my command that you should be brought to the palace of his Eminence, on whose wisdom I purposed to throw myself, and according to whose judgment I vowed that my own decision should be given. From all that I haye said—from all the circumstances which haye come to my knowledge— you can be at no loss to understand, Signor Ayel- lino, that I think far better of you than I did before. Indeed, I must confess that the great fault is my daughter’s—and the greatest amount of blame must rest with her. She has taken a step which threatens her reputation with ruin :—to this fact I cannot blind myself. I am bound likewise to acknowledge that I have been moyed by her entreaties anc her tears—moyed also by the eyi- dences of that fond, deyoted, unchanging loye which you bear for each other ; and I ean no longer shut my eyes to the truth that Antonia’s happi- ness depends upon an alliance with yourself. I am now speaking frankly, as a father and as a man of the world. For my own part, I am at length willing to waiye what may be a prejudice “ No, not a prejudice,” interposed Cardinal An- tonio Grayina, now speaking for the first time during the interview which had already lasted nearly an hour. * That observation of his Eminence,” said the Count of Tivoli,in a tone which was deeply mourn- ful, “ proclaims to you, Signor Avellino, the nature of the one obstacle which now bars your hopes of an union with my daughter. Henceforth neither yourself nor Mr. Wilmot must regard me as a stern implacable parent. I give my assent,’ continued the Count, with much emotion, “so far as the matter rests with me ;: but I haye promised that Antonia shall never marry save and except with the consent of his Eminence, her godfather— and that pledge on my part must be faithfully kept. I have entreated his Eminence—I haye reasoned with him—and alas! have failed to move him! But he agreed that this interview should take place in his presence ; and I am not therefore altogether without the hope that he will yet in his natural generosity suffer himself to be moved. I have now no more to say: it is for you, Signor Avellino, to endeavour to win the assent of his Eminence.” “No,” said the Cardinal sternly, “ not a word from Signor Ayellino’s lips! Listen. It is true that I gaye my permission for this interyiew and all these explanations to take place in my presence. But wherefore? You, Count of Tivoli, appear not fully to have understood my motiye. It was not that I might place myself in the position of one who wished to be entreated or implored that he might either grant or refuse a particular thing according to that alternative which would afford COMmicooolks (©)