Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 372: what you’re looking at

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

JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. EE Eee ee OS ~ With these words I burst abruptly away from the little group; and I hurried up the avenue to- For some moments I could only see the mansion indistinctly through the dimness wards the house. of my tears. Iam searching for language, reader, to convey an idea of the emotions which I expe- rienced: but I cannot find words to express wy Oh! I thought within myself, that though I came clad in mourning-apparel, yet would it be the most miserable of affectations to pretend that my heart was in utter mourning likewise! Therefore there must be no damp thrown upon whatsoever welcome was prepared for me!—there must be no saddening influence shed upon the For feelings. souls of those whom I was about to meet! the words of the porter had vividly recalled to my recollection the parting promise of Sir Matthew two years back :—“ Thencome, Joseph! be sure to come !—and rest assured that you shall be received with open arms. Yes—there shall be festivities and rejoicings and God grant that I may be alive to weleome the wanderer home!” And God had granted the old Baronet’s fervent wish: he was alive—and he was well: and not merely the half-uttered hints of the porter, but my own heart told me, that his arms would be ex- tended to receive me. On I went: nearer and nearer I drew to the house. I looked up towards the windows: but not a single countenance did I behold there. A mo- mentary chill of disappointment seized upon me: but, O heaven! how quickly was it dispelled—with what swiftness did it turn into a thrill of gushing emotions—when at. the very moment the old clock on the summit of the Hall began proclaiming the hour of noon, a band struck up its superb harmony ; and forth from the portals of the venerable man- sion poured Sir Matthew’s tenantry, with their wives and little ones, all apparelled in their gala- dresses. . I staggered—I reeled—I felt an intoxi- cation of the brain: it was a wildness of happiness —an ecstasy of feeling—a paradise of thrilling emotions, which even these words which I am using are puny and insignificant to describe ! Loud rang forth the grand harmony in strains of pealing welcome; and now upon the threshold I caught sight of a group whose presence all ina moment gave wings to my teet—and on I sped. There was Sir Matthew Heseltine: there was Mrs. Lanover: aud there was Annabel,—Annabel, the angel of my idolatry—the joy of my heart and O heaven, how beautiful! A ery of wild delight rang from my lipsas I thus bounded forward. And the old Baronet’s arms were open to receive me; and they closed around me—and as I sank sobbing upon his breast, he said, “ Welcome, my dear boy !—ten thousand welcomes greet thee to thy home!” And the music pealed forth its kindred strains ; and then Annabel was folded in myembrace. Yes, before all the assembled tenantry did I embrace her thus: for I no longer saw that crowd—I heard not . their cheers—I had no eyes nor sense for anything except the one object of my long devoted love—the darling of my heart, the bright and beauteous An- Nor did her mother chide me tnat I should have thus poured forth my gushing feelings in re- spect to her daughter, before giving any attention to herself: and it was with a voice full of deepest emotion that Mrs. Lanover, when [I at length nabel ! 859 turned towards her, said, as she folded me in her arms, “ God be thanked ! you are returned, my dear boy—and Annabel is your own !” I was conducted up towards the great drawing- room: but on the way thither, the old Baronet and the ladies suddenly observed for the first time that IT was in mourning; and Sir Matthew, stop- ping short, said, “ Joseph, what means this P’?—at the same time glancing at my vesture. “ Ask» me not for explanations now, my dear sir,” I responded. “ You, see that I am happy Oh, I have every reason to be happy !”—and I car- ried the hand of Annabel to my lips. The Baronet said no moro on that occasion with regard to the mourning; and we entered the drawing-room. There we all four sate down—not for immediate conversation—our hearts were too full for discourse. We looked at one another,—a thousand delightful things being expressed in our eyes; and not forasingle moment did the Baronet display any of those eccentricities which had been wont to characterize him during the former period of our acquaintance. I sate next to Annabel,— her delicate white hand clasped in my own—that hand which I knew would be mine, and that by it I should lead her to the altar! said how beautiful she looked: her < appearance was absolutely ravishing. An ineffable joy shone in her large azure eyes; but there was the blush of maiden bashfulness upon her damask cheeks. The rich masses of her golden hair floated upon her ivory shoulders: a half smile of bliss, which parted her vermilion lips, disclosed the pearly teeth with- in. Her figure—tall and exquisitely symmetrical —was only just so much expanded from the more sylphid slenderness of an earlier period as to take the developments proper to her age: for she was now in her twenty-third year. This was likewise my age; and presently, when our tongues began to unlock themselves, and our feelings allowed us to give utterance to our thoughts, I was compli- mented by Sir Matthew and Mrs. Lanover on the improvement, as they were pleased to term it, which had taken place in my own appearance. In- deed, during the two years of our separation, I had lost that boyishness of look which had cha- racterized me at the time of my self-exile; aud my mirror had told me that I had acquired a more manly air. As for Annabel, I cannot help again referring to her matchless, her wondrous beauty. The lithe, slender, fairy-shaped girl who seven years back had burst like a charming vision upon my sight on the first day of my introduction to Lanover’s house in Bloomsbury, had now expanded into the lovely and well-developed young woman. Yet still she looked younger than she really was: for there was a certain halo of girlish innocence, so to speak, in- vesting her with its pure light and holy animae tion; and it was easy to read in her looks that she was the same artless, unsophisticated, chaste- minded being that she was af the time we first be- came acquainted. She knew more of the world, it is true—but only to profit by that experience in a good sense, and to have none of tue first freshness of her youthful feelings marred by that more ex- tended knowledge. When once we had begun to discourse, we all four of us soon got on to talk more quickly: we had so many things to say! €ElO@QO) Ser ne eee et eee ee een Op | I have already ~ Bat when I spoke of .