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The Black Dwarf-Part22_WALTER SCOTT(1771-1832)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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I cannot overcharge its reality."



Having finished this sad chain of reflections upon his perilous

condition, he entered his daughter's apartment with every nerve



bent up to the support of the argument which he was about to

sustain. Though a deceitful and ambitious man, he was not so



devoid of natural affection but that he was shocked at the part

he was about to act, in practising on the feelings of a dutiful



and affectionate child; but the recollections, that, if he

succeeded, his daughter would only be trepanned into an



advantageous match, and that, if he failed, he himself was a lost

man, were quite sufficient to drown all scruples.



He found Miss Vere seated by the window of her dressing-room, her

head reclining on her hand, and either sunk in slumber, or so



deeply engaged in meditation, that she did not hear the noise he

made at his entrance. He approached with his features composed



to a deep expression of sorrow and sympathy, and, sitting down

beside her, solicited her attention by quietly taking her hand, a



motion which he did not fail to accompany with a deep sigh.

"My father!" said Isabella, with a sort of start, which



expressed at least as much fear, as joy or affection.

"Yes, Isabella," said Vere, "your unhappy father, who comes now



as a penitent to crave forgiveness of his daughter for an injury

done to her in the excess of his affection, and then to take



leave of her for ever."

"Sir? Offence to me take leave for ever? What does all this



mean?" said Miss Vere.

"Yes, Isabella, I am serious. But first let me ask you, have you



no suspicion that I may have been privy to the strange chance

which befell you yesterday morning?"



"You, sir?" answered Isabella, stammering between a

consciousness that he had guessed her thoughts justly, and the



shame as well as fear which forbade her to acknowledge a

suspicion so degrading and so unnatural.



"Yes!" he continued, "your hesitation confesses that you

entertained such an opinion, and I have now the painful task of



acknowledging that your suspicions have done me no injustice.

But listen to my motives. In an evil hour I countenanced the



addresses of Sir Frederick Langley, conceiving it impossible that

you could have any permanent objections to a match where the



advantages were, in most respects, on your side. In a worse, I

entered with him into measures calculated to restore our banished



monarch, and the independence of my country. He has taken

advantage of my unguarded confidence, and now has my life at his



disposal."

"Your life, sir?" said Isabella, faintly.



"Yes, Isabella," continued her father, "the life of him who gave

life to you. So soon as I foresaw the excesses into which his



headlong passion (for, to do him justice, I believe his

unreasonable conduct arises from excess of attachment to you) was



likely to hurry him, I endeavoured, by finding a plausible

pretext for your absence for some weeks, to extricate myself from



the dilemma in which I am placed. For this purpose I wished, in

case your objections to the match continued insurmountable, to



have sent you privately for a few months to the convent of your

maternal aunt at Paris. By a series of mistakes you have been



brought from the place of secrecy and security which I had

destined for your temporary abode. Fate has baffled my last



chance of escape, and I have only to give you my blessing, and

send you from the castle with Mr. Ratcliffe, who now leaves it;



my own fate will soon be decided."

"Good Heaven, sir! can this be possible?" exclaimed Isabella.



"O, why was I freed from the restraint in which you placed me?

or why did you not impart your pleasure to me?"



"Think an instant, Isabella. Would you have had me prejudice in

your opinion the friend I was most desirous of serving, by



communicating to you the injuriouseagerness with which he




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