ABSTRACT
Matilda began to indulge a hope that Sir Harold’s mysterious threat respecting Strathallan, ‘I wait him at the Rocks,’ was one of those vague suggestions of momentary frenzy, to which she had annexed an unnecessary and ideal importance. While the mansion resounded with the plaintive languish of Æolian harps, and voices worthy of a place in the cherub choir, filled up the intervals between, could she believe the master’s breast the seat of desperation and revenge? The knowledge that Lord Strathallan had already / appeared at one or two of those performances which now took place almost every evening, encouraged her to adopt this consolatory idea. To these concerts, which afforded the most exquisite treat to the real lovers of musical science, combining the exertions of the most distinguished theatrical talent, with whatever the amateur could contribute, of taste and native grace, the neighbouring gentry were made welcome, with a generous and universally extended hospitality, which made the unhappy Baronet, noble even in his eccentricities, universally popular, if not universally admired. If his design was by this to draw a perpetual crowd around him, it must be confessed that he succeeded admirably. Some accepted his invitations, to judge, by their own observations, if report spoke too favorably of the dispositions he had made for their entertainment; some went merely because they heard others did so; and some, and, by far the smallest number, from real taste for the pleasures of harmony, offered under their most attractive form. Of this last number was Strathallan. Since the commencement of his brother’s gradual amendment, he had sometimes beguiled a languid hour, among the enchanting harmonies of the Rocks; and had thus been led to renew the acquaintance the Baronet had formed with him, at Tunbridge. Of Matilda he had seen nothing; a formal visit, which had passed, when he was from home, was the only one she had lately made to Woodlands; and this visit, had not yet been returned by Lady Strathallan.
