The Bridal ring : or, The Maiden's sacrifice. A domestic romance

Preface

. The Romance of "The Bridal Ring; or, The Maiden's Sacrifice," is founded upon some very curious facts that took place during the early period of that long and desolating war which involved this couutry in the expense of seating the Bourbons upon that throue from which they were so soon again dislodged by the force of popular opinion. For the honour of the British Army, we may safely conclude, that, even at a time when interest at Court procured commissions in the most scandalous manner, that there were few so bad as Captain Strachan ; and we think we may now positively assert, that it woidd be impossible for such a man to hold a commission. The Author feels duly grateful for the flattering success which the work has received ; and he begs to assure those members of the press who have from time to time, as the work proceeded in its periodical issue, added their commendations to public approval, that he is much iudebted to them for the candid spirit which dictated their reviews.

It is presumed that, now in its complete form, the work will be a welcome addition to the library. London, May, 1851, — • ■' ■■ ■ the BRIDAL RING; OB, THE MAIDEN'S SACRIFICE. A ROMANCE OF OREAT POWER.

Chapter I

that 'ae picturesque county of Devonshire could produce, and the twitter of THE proposal.— a SCENE IN a sbrtjb. innumerable birds was making the still bery.— the ruinedJ Farmer, —a air TOCal witll harmony, when a young jrue .rie_.d.-."<..w forlove of and beautifai girl, w]_ose general ap fcŒHEE. AMELIA.' „ pearan(Je betok°ened haste and grief, Sunset was lending the imige of its made her way with hasty steps down a beauty to one of the loveliestjlandscapes lane that was rich in it shadows, its No. 1. RTNG ; OR, glimpses of sunshine, and ■ its floral beauties. ting some help from my godfather, l would, from the top of this stile, wave my handkerchief; but if unsuccessful, this blue sash would let her know, and she could prepare father better thau I could for either chance. I must keep my word, or she might awaken in Lim false hopes."

She loosened from her slender waist the blue sash she wore, and mounting upon the stile, she, in a slow, dejected manner, waved it in the light, balmy air, that was gently floating around her. From her present position she could well see her father's farm and homestead. The house was one of those large, irregular-looking buildings, thc architecture of which owed something to every age, although the prevailing character was Elizabethan. It was surrounded en all sides, except the seuth, by fine timber ; and extending for a considerable distance in that southerly directian were the fertile fields that belonged to Riversdale, which was the name of the place. She who now tearfully gazed upon the well-known old place was Amelia Revis, the only ctnld of Farmer Revis ; who, from a variety of ciroumstances, some within and some without his control, had fallen at length under pecuniary difficulties which threatened to drive him from his old patrimony, and make him and his beautiful child wanderers upon the face of the earth.

The young girl was simply, but yet elegantly attired ; that is to say, there was all the elegance of style, but none of the costliness of material about her apparel. She was a lady of nature's own making, and her simple muslin dress became dignified when associated with the delicate and gentle being to whom i. belonged. Her sunny hair floated about her neck and shoulders in more disorder than it was wont to be allowed to assume, and the heightened colour upon her cheek showed that she had been, or was going, upon some errand which strongly interested her feelings. At first she sped down the beautiful lane with great rapidity, but as she neared a stile which was at the farther end, and which partially defended the verdant meadow that was beyond, she paused irresolutely. " Another hope gone," she said, despondingly.

" Alas, my poor father, how will he fight up against the misfortunes that have come over him ? Indeed, I did think that my old rich godfather might have, at snch a time, opened his heart and his purse ; but no— no — there is no hope." She dashed some tears from her eyes, and ran on for some short distance further, until she was in sight of the stile, and then she paused again, but it was to dash aside tbe hair that came clustering about her eyes. It was to raise a small snm, which would have Warded off the immediate danger, tbat Amelia bad been to her godfather ; but a stern refusal bad been the result. She was now returning, full of grief and despair, to narrate the ill success of her mission. " Why do I look upon the old house ?'' she said, in a tone ot deep pathos. "It will soon pass away from us for ever.

My father is yet twenty pounds short of the claim that, if not satisfied by twelve o'clock to-morrow, will drive him from his farm. How strange it is that this ruin should have come so suddenly." It was strange, indeed. There was a mystery about the whole affair which Amelia had no means of fathoming ; but that there was a mystery, she felt con fident. "I can scarcely bear," she said, "to look at the dear old house that so soon may be taken from us. The house where I was born, too j where my poor father hoped to live his life-long, and where my dear mother——" Sobs choked the utterance of the young girl, and for a time those sounds of grief from her breast mingled strangely with the chattering melody of hundreds of forest birds, seeking shelter for the night in tbe thickly interlacing boughs of tbe elm and the sycamore, which lined the lane on either side.

" I must let them know," she said, at length, "I must let them know, I promised Julia Anderson, who has been so kind to us, and who has done so much to soothe and support the spirits of my father, tbat if I were successful in get- She certainly bad known tbat her father's affairs were not prosperous, and that there was some constant claim upon bis resources which prevented tbe possibility of his doing well ; but she bad no idea that they were so near ruin as they turned out to be. " Alas — alas ! what will became of us ?" she said, in a low, plaintive tone, as she descended from the stile. the contrary, you should have everything to hope. You must, after all, thiuk but lightly of your father's distresses and approaching ruin, if you haughtily refuse a bearing to oue who has tbe ability, and perhaps tbe will, to save him."

Amelia was astounded that be, a per fect stranger as she considered him to be to her aud to her family, should actually be aware of the state of things at the farm. He fancied tbat ber surprise was an in dication of some change of feeling, and be advanced a pace or two nearer to ber. Tbe manner in which she on tbe instant recoiled from him was quite sufficient to convince him tbat be was mistaken if be fancied he had made any advance in her esteem. " What should become of us, my dear ?" said a voice close to her, and npon starting at its proximity, and look ing in the direction from whence it pro ceeded, she saw one who was particu larly the object of her dread and aver sion. This was a Captain Strachan, who belonged to a marching regiment which was stationed in tbe immediate vicinity of tbe village, on tbe outskirts of which the farm of Mr. Revis was situate.

" 'Tis well," be said, with bitterness. " Now listen to me, Amelia Revis. I am seldom prophetic, but when I am, you may be assured that I will stir Hea ven and earth, and the other place besides, to fulfil that which I promise. The day will come when you shall kneel at my feet and sue for one of those looks of favourable regard you now affect to shrink from with horror." There was an air of insolent assurance about this man, which was particularly abhorrent to tbe feelings of Amelia, and she shrunk from the contamination of his touch, as he stretched out his band towards ber. " What, my village belle," be cried, "still in the sulks ? Come, now, tell me what it is that has put you in the pouts this fine evening." Amelia disdained to make any reply to this insolent speech, and the captain, fearing that she would escape him, adroilly stepped between her and the stile, where he stood with a smile of triumph upon his lips.

" Well, my beauty," he added, " so you won't make a friend of me ?" " Sir," said Amelia, goaded now to say something, "he who is cowardly enough to insult an unprotected girl, can be no friend to any one." '-' Indeed ! Where did you read that, now? In some play or novel ? If s very fine, indeed, but not quite appropriate to your situation or mine. Amelia Revis, I love you." "Captain Strachan, I despise you !" " A fair beginning ; but if you listen to me a little longer, I shall, perhaps, be able to convince you that policy would dictate another course." " Never — oh, never !" " Well, we shall see, unless you accept from me at once twice the sum which will make up the amount your father has to pay to-morrow ; and iu return, all I ask of you at present is, that you will wind those fair arms around me, and say, ' Henry Strachan, I love you.' An easy way, methinks, of earning forty pounds."

Amelia felt sick at heart. The strange knowledge that he had of the exact amount which her father was deficient in was confusing ; but at the touch of his hand upon her shoulder she imme diately recovered, and with a shriek bounded from him. " Think you to escape me ?" he cried. "No, Amelia, you do not leave me now unfil I have kissed the devil I" A large dog belonging to the farm, and of the true English mastiff breed, had quietly crossed the meadow— made his way under the stile, and without giving the remotest sign as indicating his presence, be fastened his teeth in the ankle of the captain, and held him as fast as though he were in a vice. " Help — help — curses !" shouted the captain. Amelia took the opportunity of sur- " Let me pass, sir. I will not hold further converse with you. Let me pass, sir." " Wherefore so anxious to leave me ?

You have nothing to dread from me. On ; OR, 4 mounting the stile, and when she was safe on the other side, she called to the do?- . -- . ... down the sides of which a faded broad gold stripe showed that they had be longed to a regimental costume. It was quite clear from his manner that he con sidered himself to be no whit forced to humble to Captain Strachan. - Prince— Prince !" In a moment he released the captain, and with all the composure in the world crept under the stile again, and rejoined his young mistress, as if he had done no thing to speak of. The countenance of Captain Strachan was perfectly livid with rage. He shook his clenched fist in the direction of the farm, as he exclaimed— "Oh, you are there Clinton," said Strachan. " I am." " Well, did you overhear what passed ?" " Yes, to be sure I did.

What of it P I don't care." " Be it so. Revenge or love is my motto. You have seemed me, Amelia, and twenty four hours shall not elapse ere you will feel the consequences of my hate." " I know you don't care ; but there is this result of it, that the blow must be struck to-morrow." "Be it so." " The farm must be seized to-morrow morning after twelve. The money will not be paid, and Mr. Huncks, the attor ney, here, will be my agent to take care of it. You had better reside in secret upon it, for which proceeding I will make to him some sufficient excuse, and when old Revis and his daughter leave, which they must do, I will keep ar; eye upon their movement." Prince, seeing the clenched fist of the captain, appeared to consider it a sort of defiance, so back he bolted to give battle to the captain, who no sooner saw the movement than he roared out — "Call off the dog!

Murder! Call off the dog !" A word from Amelia brought Prince to her side again, and without casting a glance behind her, for she knew now that she was effectually protected, she made her way hastily towards her father's house. "And do you mean to tell me, Strachan, that your only motive in all this affair is your love for Amelia r" " And revenge." " Against whom ?" " Everybody who has thwarted me- Listen to me, Clinton. You know that by my means 1 have saved you from death." Captain Strachan stood in the lane, watching her for a few moments, and then lie muttered — " Be it so. I have power, and I shall not scruple to exercise it. Well, I can guess why it is that my proffered affection is scorned. The schoolmaster's son, Arthur Wilton, is the favoured lover of this young beauty ; but it shall go hard with me if I do not yet find some means of bending her stubborn haughtiness to my will, and of likewise being revenged upon him."

He stepped back from the stile, and taking a small silver whistle from his pocket, he blew it with a peculiar thril ling found. In a few moments it was replied to by another, and then there was a rustling in the hedge to his right, and a man .prang on to the pathway. A more ferocious-looking being could scarcely have been imagined than this fellow, who now, with an air of equality faced Captain Strachan- His attire consisted of a ragged military undress coat, with trowsers. " Pshaw ! How often do you go on saying that ! You know as well as I do that it's the old man's means tbat has done it all." " By my contrivance." " Well— well." " Say no more, then, about it. I was only going to remark, that having con ceived such an affection for Amelia as I never yet felt for woman, I hate most naturally and completely the person who opposes me."

" Young Wilton ?" " Yes. The sou of the village school master. And when I have concluded matters at the farm, it shall not be long before I find some means of revenging myself upon him." " I have seen him." " Curses oa him !" " Ay, curses break no bones." " But he shall have broken bones for "Ah, well, it don't matter to me. I'm out of it." all that." The clear, inspirating» sound of a drum and fife, playing a martial air, came upon their ears, as they scrambled up the bank on one side of the lane to catch a glimpse of the recruiting party. " Be careful, captain ; when I said I saw him, I was about to add that I saw as sturdy a young fellow of his inches as one may see upon a long summer's day. He is more than a match for either you or I, and perhaps for both of us put together." «! Bah !"

Chapter II

" It's the easiest thing in the world to say, * Bah !' but I don't know that it ever overcame an enemy yet." THE KECRUIT. — THE FARM SAVED.— THE THREAT. " My child," said Farmer Revis, on the morning following the events we have just recorded, as he parted the fair hair upon the brow of Amelia, and kissed her tenderly, " my child, we must be re signed to our fate. All is lost I" "But father — father! — this mystery —this strange affair, which no one can understand — — " "But I will overcome Wilton for all that. You shall see that come about." "Shall I?" " Be assured you shall." " Well, settle matters your own way. I flatter myself I have achieved a height of philosophy that makes me tolerably indifferent to all things, except good eat ing — plenty to drink— a dry bed, and personal safety."

"Hush— hush!" " It was but yesterday I heard Robert,, Mr. Angand's gardener, say there was not in the whole of Devon so fertile a little farm as Riversdale, or a better farmer than you, father, and yet you say all is lost." " All of which, you know, I have made yours for some considerable time now." " Granted." " And all of which you shall have for a continuance in the farm of Riversdale, which will be mine to-morrow. You have kept a strict watch, I hope, to be certain that nothing was removed from the farm for the purpose of raising the money ?" " All's right." " Well, yo« are quite unknown now in this part of the country, except to a very few ; and all you have to do is to keep most carefully out of the way of the old man to-morrow. His pride, I think, will induce him, when he is turned out of his farm, at once to leave the neighbourhood."

" Very likely. What's that ?" " Only a drum or fife, belonging to the recruiting party of the regiment. Men are so scarce now, and the war rages upon the continent so fiercely, that Colonel Percival, in order to complete his complement of men, intends offering twenty pounds to any approved recruit." "Indeed'." Farmer Revis rose and paced the room for a few moments ; then he said — " Robert was right." " And you are careful, father, and just to all, and yet all is lost." " As you say, my child, all is lost ! I— I cannot tell you ! I dare not tell you how it is that we are beggars ; but this I can do— I can ask you to trust your father's honour, and to believe that the mystery, be it what it may, is not one that before heaven will be his dis grace." " Is this kind, father ? — is it necessary ."

Amelia flung herself upon ber father's neck, and burst into tears. A fast foot approaches — she rose, and tried to smother her emotions. The handle of the door is turned, and then, as if the person approaching had only done so from eager»ess, there came a low tap upon the panel. "Arthur — it is Arthur !"said Amelia. " Yes ; aud in the course of a few days he hopes by such means to get suf ficient to march to the next depot with. I, however, shall still be kept in England, until the regiment is one of a few months' " Come in," said Mr. Revis. "Come in." Arthur Wilton stepped into the apart ment with a smile of pleasure upon his older standing." face. ; OR, to own au honest passion ? Father, I love him." " Oh, joy — joy !" cried Arthur. The uplifted hand of Farmer Revis restrained him. " Hold I" he cried.

" You shall hear all. Arthur Wilton, I bave not been so blind or so negligent of my child's happiness as not to see that you were loot ing upon her with eyes of affection, and that she was not indifferent to the manifestations of a feeling which had already found a place in her own bosom. I knew that you loved each other." « Sir, I " "Hear me out. Various circumstances have combined to surround me with grief and difficulty ; my worldly circumstances have suffered, and — ■ and " '•' Good morning, Mr. Revis," he said. "I hope you are well, sir. Amelia, I have brought you some of the last blos soms of your favourite flowers. What — what is amiss ?" He saw tears in the eyes of Amelia, and that the countenance of Farmer Revis expressed trouble ai!d anxiety. Before any reply could be made to him, a door at the opposite end of the room opened, and old Dame Revis, the aunt of Amelia, hobbled into the apartment by the aid of two sticks.

"My dream — my dream!" she said. " My dream ! Where's the child — the child ?" She always called Amelia the child. There was a. strange, unearthly look upon the old woman', face, which terrified and grieved Amelia, who ran up to her, and placing ber arms around her, assisted her to a seat. *' You are not well, dear aunt." " My dream — my dream !" added the old woman. " My dream ! How came I to dream it ? Bury the lady deep — deep — deep. There — there, don't chop the hand off with the spade, though it does project above ground. Hush — hush ! Tramp down the earth harder — harder still. How pale she looks — how very pale !" f She raves," said Farmer Revis. " Alas — alas !" moaned Amelia. " Go on, sir. Ob, go on." " For years past I have been paying away large sums— the last of them is due to-day ; I — 1 cannot meet it, and by the conditions of my debt, the farm and all that I possess in the world becomes forfeit to my creditor.

I am twenty pounds short of the amount required, which is one hundred pounds." Arthur drew a long oreath. " Twenty pounds only, sir ? Why why, surely there are friends ?" "Who have been tried and found wanting. Twelve o'clock to-day is the last hour at which the payment can be made." "Poor lady, her mind is gone," said Arthur Wilton. " Some dream has completely disturbed her faculties. Is it upon her account that I see you so distressed ?" "But — but, sir — the farm produce— the furniture — the freehold itself — surely there is abundance of means of raising so small a sum." Amelia shook ber head, as she said faintly — "No, Arthur. My aunt's state isa new trouble, only of this morning's growth — I — I thank you for the flowers. Good-bye, Arthur, good-bye — good — " She burst into tears. "It would, indeed, seem so, Arthur," replied Mr. Revis; " but the same power which binds me to pay it all, likewise binds me to touch nothing here under a heavy penalty.

I dare not, and have not dared to sell a load of hav for the last two years without written permission given me, of whom I wish not to speak further." " Amelia — Amelia !" cried Arthur. " What is this ?" " Hush— hush ! Bury the dead," muttered old Deborah Revis. " Bury the dead — deep — deep — while the clouds flit over the fair moon's face." Arthur looked staggered and amazed. " I see," continued Revis, " that this tale is almost revolting to your under standing. I dare not render it more clear. Young man, I bid you farewell. We shall be far away to-night from here." "Father— father, tell him all," cried Amelia. " You may trust him, for now in times of trouble, difficulty, and dis tress, I declare to you that — that he loves me ; and— and why should I blush "No, no, no! Twenty pounds, say you, onlv wanted to preserve you iu the farm?"

" the blood ? — where's all the blood ? A strong man should have some blood iu him. Is this a fit task for such hands ? Wait till the moon peeps out a_-ain, Amelia, my child ; and then stamp stamp upon the face of the dead ! It's all my dream — all my dream \" Amelia shuddered, and Farmer Revis, looking towards the old woman, cried — > " What in the name of Heaven does she rave about now? Alas! what will become of her ?" " But twenty pounds." "Alas — alas ! and we cannot boast of the possession of so many shillings I Is this, indeed, the last sum that this ex torlionate, unknown, mysterious wretch can demand of you, sir ." " It is the last." Arthur clasped his hands, and looked wistfully at Amelia, while ttevis walked to a window and gave a shudder, as he heard the church clock strike ten.

" Father, have hope." " Hope ? — hope ? No, my Amelia ! Even hope, that I have, I scarcely k_ow how, contrived to cherish for these last two years, has at length deserted me." " That dreadful secret !" " Farewell, Arthur !" said Amelia, holding out her hand to him. " Farewell ! God bless you !" " Amelia — Amelia ! For the love of Heaven, tell me is all this real, or merely some phantom of your father's brain ? Ob, speak to me !" " You know, Arthur, all that I know." " Can it be possible ?" "Indeed, yes, Arthur! Go — oh, go from me at once ! It is a pang, now, so look upon you, because it can but tell me of the pang to come in parting from you. All that could be parted with has been already parted with, to make what my father already has paid to I know not whom. There is some mystery hanging over our house, which I dare not further inquire into."

" There are two hours yet." " What mean you ?" " There are two hours until twelve, Amelia, I will try what can be done. Be of good cheer ! Twenty pounds, you say — only twenty pounds ? I — I will try." "Arthur— Arthur!" " Hush ! It must continue one for a time. My Amelia, the day will come when I, perhaps, may tell you all, but not now — not now, darling." " Oh, father, father, how pa'.e you look ! Your eyes are fixed upon some thing. Father, what is it ?" Revis pointed through a window, which commanded a view along a gra velled walk, conducting to the house, and by following that direction with her ej es, Amelia saw that three men were approaching. She knew them all. One was Mr. Huncks, she villa. e lawyer — another was the beadle of the parish, a general con stable, whose name was Flummery, and the third was no other than Captain Strachan, whose coming to the farm was as great a surprise to her as it was an affliction.

She could not imagine in what possi ble way he should become mixed up iu her father's affairs, although, certainly, in his interview with her in the lane he had shown an intimate knowledge of them, which it completely baffled her to account for. " Amelia, do not unman me by those tears. Hush ! nothing of this to your father. Mr. Revis." "Sir?" "I wish you good-morning, sir." Eevis merely inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, and then sunk into a chair, aud covered his face with both his hands, appearing to give himself completely up to painful reflection. Arthur made two steps towards him, as though he would have spoken to him, but he changed his purpose, and after one more glance at Amelia, he hastily left the room. " Behold ! behold ! " cried farmer Revis, bursting into an agony of grief.

"Behold ! They come to wrest from me my only possession ! Amelia, my child — my Amelia, we shall be beggars !* He sunk upon a couch that was in the room, and seemed to be incapable of making any effort to save himself. Amelia fixed her eyes upon the advan cing men, and with breathless anticipa tion of what their message was, she stood an image of despair. " How now ?" muttered old Deborah, placing her fingers upon her lips. " Now for the box. Take it out. Where's all S opened as doors from the floor to the ceiling, and towards which now the ap proaching party was rapidly making its And in a few moments more they all stood only separated from the room by the window. Mr. Huncks rapped upon it with his knuckles. Revis, with a strange, staggering gait, . made his way towards the window, and j although his hands trembled so that he I could scarcely do so, he managed to undo j the fastening.

The window opened, and the three i unwelcome guests entered the room. Prince made a short dart towards Stra chan, but Revis restrained the dog, who, at the command of his master, crouched down, whining and dissatisfied, under a i large table that was in the centre of the room. The keen, gray eyes of old Deborah, too, seemed to scan the intruders with a strange and preternatural scrutiny. CHAPTER IU. MALICE DEFEATED. — THE GENEROUS SACRIFICE. All was silent in the apartment, so that the sound of the footsteps without upon the crisp gravel came plainly upon the ears of the ruined farmer and his daughter. Suddenly Revis rose and clutched Amelia by the wrist, as in a hoarse, half choked voice he said, pointing at the same time through the window at Captain Strachan, who was the foremost of the group — " My child ! my child ! do not — do not anger that — that man — fiend I should call him. — Do not allow any natural feeling of resentment at what may be said or done to-day to tempt you to a reply tbat — that — hush ! — no more !