Damon and Delia: A Tale

They now retired to rest. The next morning, Delia was much better recovered from her terror and fatigue, than could have been expected. Mr. Godfrey however had not thought it adviseable that she should be removed that day, and had therefore set off early in the morning for Southampton, that he might himself be the messenger of these happy tidings.

"I hope Miss," said Mrs. Wilson, who attended our heroine, "that you will dress yourself as well as you can." "And why" cried Delia, "do you desire that? I can see nobody, I can think of nothing, but my absent and anxious Damon." "Let us hope," replied the other, "that he is very well. But, Miss, we expect lord Thomas Villiers by dinner time." "Lord Thomas Villiers!" exclaimed Delia, in the extremest surprise. "Yes," cried Mrs. Wilson. "He is our landlord, and he always comes over once about this time of the year." "Alas," said Delia, "I can see nobody. But I had rather meet any person at this time, than lord Thomas Villiers." "Bless me, Miss! why I am sure he is a very good sort of a gentleman." "I dare say he is," cried Delia. "But indeed, and indeed, Mrs. Wilson, I cannot see him. Pray oblige me in this." "Law, well I cannot think what objection you can have! There must be something very particular in it."

Such were the hints that Mrs. Wilson threw out for the satisfying of her curiosity, but Delia was not disposed to be more communicative. The good woman however, with the error of our heroine before her eyes, was determined not to commit a similar fault. Lord Thomas was therefore scarcely arrived, before she set open the flood gates of her eloquence, in describing the rescue, and the unrivalled beauty of the lady under her roof.

His lordship had long had a misunderstanding with lord Martin upon the subject of their contiguous estates. As his temper was not the most gentle, nor his memory upon these subjects the most treacherous, he expressed his triumph in loud shouts, and repeated horse laughs, upon the recent defeat of his antagonist. Nothing however would content him but a sight of the lady. "That," said Mrs. Wilson, "my guess is too nice to consent to. You must know, she has a particular dislike to your lordship." "A dislike to me!" said the old gentleman, whose curiosity was now more inflamed than even "Will you be contented," said his kind hostess, "with a peep through the key hole!" and without waiting for an answer, she took him by the hand, and led him up stairs. "By my foul!" said his lordship, "she is the finest woman in the world. Devil take me, if I can contain myself," and he burst into the room.

Lord Thomas advanced a few steps, and then stopping, clasped his hands; "Why she is an angel of a woman! And did Martin, that dirty scoundrel, think he could run away with you? Impudent, pot-bellied spider! Ah, if my son had fallen in love with such a woman as you, I could forgive him any thing." And seizing her hand he pressed it to his lips. "Forgive me, charmer," cried he, "I am an old fellow. I will do you no harm."

Delia, though pleased with the behaviour of her intended father-in-law, dared not yet discover herself to him. In the afternoon, Mr. Godfrey, and Sir William Twyford, arrived. Damon, agitated as he was by the most dreadful images that a troubled fancy could suggest, appeared in the morning in a high fever. Instead of being able to hasten to the mistress of his soul, he was confined to his bed, and attended by physicians.

"Ha," cried lord Thomas, as soon as he saw the baronet, "and who sent for you? What do you want? I think, Sir, you are the gentleman to whom I am obliged for telling my son, that duty to parents is a baby prejudice, that obstinacy is a heroic virtue, and that fortune, fame, and friends, are all to be sacrificed to the whining passion, which, I think, you call love." "My lord," replied the baronet, "I have done nothing, of which I feel any reason to be ashamed. But a subject more pressing calls for my immediate attention." Then turning to Delia, "Give me leave to congratulate you, madam, and heaven can tell how heartily I do it, upon the generous and happy interposition of Mr. Godfrey." "And pray," interrupted lord Thomas, "how came you acquainted with that lady?" "Oh, tell me," cried Delia, with an impatience not to be restrained by modes and forms, "tell me, how does my Damon? Why is he not here? Alas, I fear"–"Fear nothing," cried the baronet. "He is safe. He is at your father's house, and impatient to see you." "And is this the lady," cried lord Thomas, "of whom my son is enamoured? But he shall not disobey me. I will never permit it. Sir, if this be the lady, I will give her to him with my own hand. But where is the ungracious rascal? Why does not he appear?" "Nothing, be assured," said the baronet, "but reasons of the last importance, could have kept him back in so interesting a moment." "Alas, I fear," cried Delia, "since you endeavour to conceal them from me, they are reasons of the most afflicting nature." "It is in vain," replied Sir William, "to endeavour at concealment." "Your son," turning to lord Thomas Villiers, "is confined to his bed. The anxiety and fatigue that he suffered, in consequence of the extraordinary step of lord Martin, have thrown him into a fever. But be not uneasy, my Delia," taking her hand, "there is no danger. One sigh, one look from you will restore him." "Ten thousand curses," exclaimed the father, "upon the head of the contemptible, misbegotten ravisher! But let us make haste. I am glad however that my rogue of a son is a little punished for his impertinence. Let us make haste."

Saying this, he ordered the horses to his chariot, and the whole company prepared to set out for Southampton immediately. The only business which remained, was the dispatching a message, which was done by one of sir William's servants, from Mr. Godfrey to lord Martin, announcing his name, and informing his lordship, that he was to be met with any time in the ensuing week at Mr. Moreland's.

Lord Martin was a good deal bruised and enfeebled with the adventure of the preceding evening. He had been obliged to undergo a lustration of near an hour, before he could be put to bed. He was just risen, when the message was delivered. "Zounds!" cried the peer, "he is, is he? And so this fellow, whom nobody knows, has the impudence to snub me! By my title, and all the blood of my ancestors, he is not worthy of my sword. I will have him assassinated. I will hire some blackguards to seize him, and bind him in my presence, and I will bastinado him with my own hand. Furies and curses! I do not know what to do. Oh, this confounded vanity! Not contented with one disgrace, I have brought upon myself another, ten times more mortifying than the first. By Tartarus, and all the infernal gods, I believe I had better let it rest where it is! Wretch, wretch, that I am!" And he threw himself on the bed in an agony of despair.

Damon had slept little the preceding night, and his slumbers had been disturbed with a thousand horrible imaginations. The first person who appeared in his chamber the next morning he addressed with "Where, where is she? Where is my Delia? My life, my soul, the mistress of my fate? Ah, why do you look so haggard, so unconsoling. You have heard nothing of her? Give me my clothes. I will pursue her to the world's end. I will find her, though she be hid deep as the centre." "Sir, be pacified," said the servant, "she is safe." "Safe," cried our lover, "why then does she not appear to comfort me? But haste, I will fly to her. I will clasp, I will lock her, in my arms. No, nothing, not all the powers on earth, shall ever part us more." "Sir, she is not in the house." "Not in the house," cried Damon starting, "Ha! say. I will not be cheated. On thy life do not trifle with my impatience."

At this moment Mr. Godfrey entered the room. "Who is there?" cried Damon, starting at every whisper. "It is your friend," said Godfrey. "A friend that owes you much, and would willingly pay you something back again." "I do not understand you," replied our hero. "I can talk of nothing but my Delia. Oh Delia! Delia! I will teach thy name to all the echoes. I will send it with every wind to heaven. Ever, ever, shall it dwell upon my lips." "Delia," replied the other, "is in safety. I have been so happy as to rescue her." "Ha! sayest thou? let me look upon thee well. I am somewhat disordered, but I think thy name is Godfrey. Thou shouldst not deceive me. Thou art not old in falsehood." "I do not deceive thee. On my life I do not!" exclaimed Godfrey, with emotion. "Compose thyself for a few hours. Or ever thou shalt see the setting sun, I will put thy Delia into thy arms again."

Damon was somewhat composed by these assurances. No voice like that of Godfrey had power to sooth his mind to serenity. But though he sought to restrain himself, he listened to every noise. He started at the sound of every foot, and the rattle of a carriage in the street agitated his soul almost to frenzy.

"Why does not she come? What can delay her? I have counted every moment. I have waited whole ages. I see, I see, that every thing conspires to cheat, and to distract me. Damon has not one friend left to whisper in his ear–to whisper what? That Delia is no more? That all her beauties are defaced, by some sacrilegious hand? That all her heaven of charms have been rifled? Oh, no. I must not think of that. But hark! I thought I heard a sound, but it is delirium all. Sure, sure it comes this way. I will listen but this once."

The door of the chamber now flew open. But oh, what object caught the raptured eye of Damon! He was just risen. "It is, it is my Delia!" and they flew into each others arms. But having embraced for a moment, Damon took hold of her hand, and held her from him. "Let me look at thee. And is it Delia? And art thou safe, unhurt? I would not be mistaken." "Yes, I am she, and ten times more my Damon's than ever." "It is enough. I am contented. But hark! who comes there? Sure it is not the brutal ravisher? No," cried he, in a voice of surprise, "it is my father."

Lord Thomas Villiers, who had been a witness of this scene, could restrain himself no longer. "Come to my arms, thy father's arms," cried he, "and let me bless thee." "Stay, stay," cried Damon. "Yes I know thee well. But I will never be separated from her any more. I will laugh at the authority of a parent. Tyranny and tortures shall not rend me from her." "The authority of a parent," replied lord Thomas, "shall never more be employed to counteract thy wishes. I myself will join your hands."

The constitution of Damon was so full of sensibility, that it was some days before he was completely recovered. In the mean time, the amours of Sir William Twyford, and Mr. Hartley, continually ripened, and it was proposed, that the three parties should be united in the same day.

"And now," said Damon, "I have but one care more, one additional exertion, to set my mind at ease. My Godfrey, I owe thee more than kingdoms can repay. Tell me, instruct me, what can I do to serve you? Damon must be the most contemptible of villains, if he could think his felicity complete, when his Godfrey was unhappy."

"Think not of me," said Godfrey, "I am happy in the way that nature intended, beyond even the power of Damon to make me. Since I saw you, a favourable change has taken place in my circumstances. In spite of various obstacles, I have brought a tragedy upon the stage, and it has met with distinguished success. My former crosses and mortifications are all forgotten. Philosophers may tell us, that reputation, and the immortality of a name, are all but an airy shadow. Enough for me, that nature, from my earliest infancy, led me to place my first delight in these. I envy not kings their sceptres. I envy not statesmen their power. I envy not Damon his love, and his Delia. Next to the pursuits of honour and truth, my soul is conscious to but one wish, that of having my name enrolled, in however inferior a rank, with a Homer, and a Horace, a Livy, and a Cicero."

The next day the proposed weddings took place. It is natural perhaps, at the conclusion of such a narrative as this, to represent them all as happy. But we are bound to adhere to nature and truth. Mr. Hartley and his politician for some time struggled for superiority, but, in the end, the eagle genius of Sophia soared aloft. Sir William, though he married a woman, good natured, and destitute of vice, found something more insipid in marriage, than he had previously apprehended. For Damon and his Delia, they were amiable, and constant. Though their hearts were in the highest degree susceptible and affectionate, the first ebullition of passion could not last for ever. But it was succeeded by the feast of reason, and the flow of soul. Their hours were sped with the calmness of tranquility. When they saw each other no longer with transport, they saw each other with complacency. And so long as they live, they will doubtless afford the most striking demonstration, that marriage, when it unites two gentle souls, and meaned by nature for each other, when it is blest of heaven, and accompanied with reason and discretion, is the sweetest, and the fairest of all the bands of society.