diff options
Diffstat (limited to '9414-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 9414-0.txt | 17534 |
1 files changed, 17534 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/9414-0.txt b/9414-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6e42e78 --- /dev/null +++ b/9414-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,17534 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Tales And Novels, Volume 5 (of 10), by Maria Edgeworth + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: Tales And Novels, Volume 5 (of 10) + Tales of a Fashionable Life: Manoeuvring; Almeria; and Vivian. + +Author: Maria Edgeworth + +Release Date: September 30, 2003 [eBook #9414] +[Most recently updated: March 5, 2021] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: Jonathan Ingram, Tapio Riikonen and PG Distributed Proofreaders and David Widger + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES AND NOVELS, VOLUME 5 (OF 10) *** + + + + +TALES AND NOVELS, VOL. V + +MANOEUVRING; ALMERIA; AND VIVIAN. (TALES OF FASHIONABLE LIFE.) + +By Maria Edgeworth + + +In Ten Volumes. With Engravings On Steel. + + +1857. + + + + +MANOEUVRING. + + + +CHAPTER I. + +“And gave her words, where oily Flatt’ry lays The pleasing colours of +the art of praise.”--PARNELL. + + +NOTE FROM MRS. BEAUMONT TO MISS WALSINGHAM. + +“I am more grieved than I can express, my dearest Miss Walsingham, by +a cruel _contre-temps_, which must prevent my indulging myself in the +long-promised and long-expected pleasure of being at your _fête de +famille_ on Tuesday, to celebrate your dear father’s birthday. I +trust, however, to your conciliating goodness, my kind young friend, to +represent my distress properly to Mr. Walsingham. Make him sensible, I +conjure you, that my _heart_ is with you all, and assure him that this +is no common apology. Indeed, I never employ such artifices with my +friends: to them, and to you in particular, my dear, I always speak with +perfect frankness and candour. Amelia, with whom, _entre nous_, you +are more a favourite than ever, is so much vexed and mortified by this +disappointment, that I see I shall not be restored to favour till I can +fix a day for going to you: yet when that may be, circumstances, which I +should not feel myself quite justified in mentioning, will not permit me +to decide. + +“Kindest regards and affectionate remembrances to all your dear +circle.--Any news of the young captain? Any hopes of his return from +sea? + +“Ever with perfect truth, my dearest Miss Walsingham’s sincere friend, + +“EUGENIA BEAUMONT. + +“P.S.--Private--read to yourself. + +“To be candid with you, my dear young friend, my secret reason for +denying myself the pleasure of Tuesday’s fête is, that I have just heard +that there is a shocking chicken-pox in the village near you; and I +confess it is one of my weaknesses to dread even the bare rumour of such +a thing, on account of my Amelia: but I should not wish to have this +mentioned in your house, because you must be sensible your father would +think it an idle womanish fear; and you know how anxious I am for his +esteem. + +“Burn this, I beseech you---- + +“Upon second thoughts, I believe it will be best to tell the truth, and +the whole truth, to your father, if you should see that nothing else +will do----In short, I write in haste, and must trust now, as ever, +entirely to your discretion.” + + +“Well, my dear,” said Mr. Walsingham to his daughter, as the young lady +sat at the breakfast table looking over this note, “how long do you mean +to sit the picture of The Delicate Embarrassment? To relieve you as far +as in me lies, let me assure you that I shall not ask to see this +note of Mrs. Beaumont’s, which as usual seems to contain some mighty +mystery.” + +“No great mystery; only----” + +“Only--some minikin mystery?” said Mr. Walsingham. “Yes, ‘_Elle est +politique pour des choux et des raves_.’--This charming widow Beaumont +is _manoeuvrer_.[1] We can’t well make an English word of it. The +species, thank Heaven! is not so numerous yet in England as to require +a generic name. The description, however, has been touched by one of our +poets: + + ‘Julia’s a manager: she’s born for rule, + And knows her wiser husband is a fool. + For her own breakfast she’ll project a scheme, + Nor take her tea without a stratagem.’ + +Even from the time when Mrs. Beaumont was a girl of sixteen I remember +her manoeuvring to gain a husband, and then manoeuvring to manage him, +which she did with triumphant address.” + +“What sort of a man was Colonel Beaumont?” + +“An excellent man; an open-hearted soldier, of the strictest honour and +integrity.” + +“Then is it not much in Mrs. Beaumont’s favour, that she enjoyed the +confidence of such a man, and that he left her guardian to his son and +daughter?” + +“If he had lived with her long enough to become acquainted with her real +character, what you say, my dear, would be unanswerable. But Colonel +Beaumont died a few years after his marriage, and during those few years +he was chiefly with his regiment.” + +“You will, however, allow,” said Miss Walsingham, “that since his death +Mrs. Beaumont has justified his confidence.--Has she not been a good +guardian, and an affectionate mother?” + +“Why--as a guardian, I think she has allowed her son too much liberty, +and too much money. I have heard that young Beaumont has lost a +considerable sum at Newmarket. I grant you that Mrs. Beaumont is an +affectionate mother, and I am convinced that she is extremely anxious to +advance the worldly interests of her children; still I cannot, my dear, +agree with you, that she is a good mother. In the whole course of the +education of her son and daughter, she has pursued a system of artifice. +Whatever she wanted them to learn, or to do, or to leave undone, some +stratagem, sentimental or scenic, was employed; somebody was to hint +to some other body to act upon Amelia to make her do so and so. +Nothing--that is, nothing like truth, ever came directly from the +mother: there were always whisperings and mysteries, and ‘Don’t say that +before Amelia!’ and ‘I would not have this told to Edward,’ because it +might make him like something that she did not wish that he should like, +and that she had _her reasons_ for not letting him know that she did not +wish him to like. There was always some truth to be concealed for some +mighty good purpose; and things and persons were to be represented +in false lights, to produce on some particular occasion some partial +effect. All this succeeded admirably in detail, and for the management +of helpless, ignorant, credulous childhood. But mark the consequences +of this system: children grow up, and cannot always see, hear, and +understand, just as their mothers please. They will go into the world; +they will mix with others; their eyes will be opened; they will see +through the whole system of artifice by which their childhood was so +cleverly managed; and then, confidence in the parent must be destroyed +for ever.” + +Miss Walsingham acknowledged the truth of what her father said; but +she observed that this was a common error in education, which had the +sanction of high authority in its favour; even the eloquent Rousseau, +and the elegant and ingenious Madame de Genlis. “And it is certain,” + continued Miss Walsingham, “that Mrs. Beaumont has not made her children +artful; both Amelia and Mr. Beaumont are remarkably open, sincere, +honourable characters. Mr. Beaumont, indeed, carries his sincerity +almost to a fault: he is too blunt, perhaps, in his manner;--and Amelia, +though she is of such a timid, gentle temper, and so much afraid of +giving pain, has always courage enough to speak the truth, even in +circumstances where it is most difficult. So at least you must allow, my +dear father, that Mrs. Beaumont has made her children sincere.” + +“I am sorry, my dear, to seem uncharitable; but I must observe, that +sometimes the very faults of parents produce a tendency to opposite +virtues in their children: for the children suffer by the consequences +of these faults, and detecting, despise, and resolve to avoid them. As +to Amelia and Mr. Beaumont, their acquaintance with our family has been +no unfavourable circumstance in their education. They saw amongst us +the advantages of sincerity: they became attached to you, and to my +excellent ward Captain Walsingham; he obtained strong power over young +Beaumont’s mind, and used it to the best purposes. Your friendship for +Amelia was, I think, equally advantageous to her: as you are nearly of +the same age, you had opportunities of winning her confidence; and your +stronger mind fortified hers, and inspired her timid character with the +courage necessary to be sincere.” + +“Well,” persisted Miss Walsingham, “though Mrs. Beaumont may have used +a little _finesse_ towards her children in trifles, yet in matters of +consequence, I do think that she has no interest but theirs; and her +affection for them will make her lay aside all art, when their happiness +is at stake.” + +Mr. Walsingham shook his head.--“And do you then really believe, my dear +Marianne, that Mrs. Beaumont would consider any thing, for instance, in +the marriage of her son and daughter, but fortune, and what the world +calls _connexion and establishments_?” + +“Certainly I cannot think that these are Mrs. Beaumont’s first objects; +because we are people but of small fortune, and yet she prefers us to +many of large estates and higher station.” + +“You should say, she professes to prefer us,” replied Mr. Walsingham. +“And do you really believe her to be sincere? Now, there is my ward, +Captain Walsingham, for whom she pretends to have such a regard, do you +think that Mrs. Beaumont wishes her daughter should marry him?” + +“I do, indeed; but Mrs. Beaumont must speak cautiously on that subject; +this is prudence, not dissimulation: for you know that my cousin +Walsingham never declared his attachment to Miss Beaumont; on the +contrary, he always took the most scrupulous pains to conceal it +from her, because he had not fortune enough to marry, and he was too +honourable to attempt, or even to wish, to engage the affections of one +to whom he had no prospect of being united.” + +“He is a noble fellow!” exclaimed Mr. Walsingham. “There is no sacrifice +of pleasure or interest he would hesitate to make to his duty. For his +friends there is no exertion, no endurance, no forbearance, of which he +has not shown himself capable. For his country----All I ask from Heaven +for him is, opportunity to serve his country. Whether circumstances, +whether success, will ever prove his merits to the world, I cannot +foretell; but I shall always glory in him as my ward, my relation, my +friend.” + +“Mrs. Beaumont speaks of him just as you do,” said Miss Walsingham. + +“Speaks, but not thinks,” said Mr. Walsingham. “No, no! Captain +Walsingham is not the man she desires for a son-in-law. She wants to +marry Amelia to Sir John Hunter.” + +“To Sir John Hunter!” + +“Yes, to Sir John Hunter, a being without literature, without morals, +without even youth, to plead in his favour. He is nearly forty years +old, old enough to be Amelia’s father; yet this is the man whom Mrs. +Beaumont prefers for the husband of her beloved daughter, because he is +heir presumptive to a great estate, and has the chance of a reversionary +earldom.--And this is your modern good mother.” + +“Oh, no, no!” cried Miss Walsingham, “you do Mrs. Beaumont injustice; I +assure you she despises Sir John Hunter as much as we do.” + +“Yet observe the court she has paid to the whole family of the Hunters.” + +“Yes, but that has been merely from regard to the late Lady Hunter, who +was her particular friend.” + +“_Particular friend!_ a vamped-up, sentimental conversation reason.” + +“But I assure you,” persisted Miss Walsingham, “that I know Mrs. +Beaumont’s mind better than you do, father, at least on this subject.” + +“You! a girl of eighteen, pretend to know a manoeuvrer of her age!” + +“Only let me tell you my reasons.--It was but last week that Mrs. +Beaumont told me that she did not wish to encourage Sir John Hunter, +and that she should be perfectly happy if she could see Amelia united to +such a man as Captain Walsingham.” + +“Such a man as Captain Walsingham! nicely guarded expression!” + +“But you have not heard all yet.--Mrs. Beaumont anxiously inquired from +me whether he had made any prize-money, whether there was any chance of +his returning soon; and she added, with particular emphasis, ‘You +don’t know how much I wish it! You don’t know what a favourite he is of +mine!’” + +“That last, I will lay any wager,” cried Mr. Walsingham, “she said in a +whisper, and in a corner.” + +“Yes, but she could not do otherwise, for Amelia was present. Mrs. +Beaumont took me aside.” + +“Aside; ay, ay, but take care, I advise you, of her _asides_, and her +whisperings, and her cornerings, and her inuendoes, and semiconfidences, +lest your own happiness, my dear, unsuspecting, enthusiastic daughter, +should be the sacrifice.” + +Miss Walsingham now stood perfectly silent, in embarrassed and +breathless anxiety. + +“I see,” continued her father, “that Mrs. Beaumont, for whose mighty +genius one intrigue at a time is not sufficient, wants also to persuade +you, my dear, that she wishes to have you for a daughter-in-law: and yet +all the time she is doing every thing she can to make her son marry that +fool, Miss Hunter, merely because she has two hundred thousand pounds +fortune.” + +“There I can assure you that you are mistaken,” said Miss Walsingham; +“Mrs. Beaumont dreads that her son should marry Miss Hunter. Mrs. +Beaumont thinks her as silly as you do, and complained to me of her +having no taste for literature, or for any thing, but dress, and +trifling conversation.” + +“I wonder, then, that Mrs. Beaumont selects her continually for her +companion.” + +“She thinks Miss Hunter the most insipid companion in the world; but I +dare not tell you, lest you should laugh at me again, that it was for +the sake of the late Lady Hunter that Mrs. Beaumont was so kind to the +daughter; and now Miss Hunter is so fond of her, and so grateful, that, +as Mrs. Beaumont says, it would be cruelty to shake her off.” + +“Mighty plausible! But the truth of all this, begging Mrs. Beaumont’s +pardon, I doubt; I will not call it a falsehood, but I may be permitted +to call it a _Beaumont_. Time will show: and in the mean time, my dear +daughter, be on your guard against Mrs. Beaumont’s art, and against +your own credulity. The momentary pain I give my friends by speaking +the plain truth, I have always found overbalanced by the pleasure +and advantage of mutual confidence. Our domestic happiness has arisen +chiefly from our habits of openness and sincerity. Our whole souls +are laid open; there is no management, no ‘_intrigue de cabinet_, no +‘_esprit de la ligue_.’” + +Mr. Walsingham now left the room; and Miss Walsingham, absorbed in +reflections more interesting to her than even the defence of Mrs. +Beaumont, went out to walk. Her father’s house was situated in a +beautiful part of Devonshire, near the sea-shore, in the neighbourhood +of Plymouth; and as Miss Walsingham was walking on the beach, she saw +an old fisherman mooring his boat to the projecting stump of a tree. His +figure was so picturesque, that she stopped to sketch it; and as she +was drawing, a woman came from the cottage near the shore to ask +the fisherman what luck he had had. “A fine turbot,” says he, “and a +john-doree.” + +“Then away with them this minute to Beaumont Park,” said the woman; “for +here’s Madam Beaumont’s man, Martin, called _in a flustrum_ while you +was away, to say madam must have the nicest of our fish, whatsomever it +might be, and a john-doree, if it could be had for love or money, for +Tuesday.”--Here the woman, perceiving Miss Walsingham, dropped a curtsy. +“Your humble servant, Miss Walsingham,” said the woman. + +“On Tuesday?” said Miss Walsingham: “are you sure that Mrs. Beaumont +bespoke the fish for Tuesday?” + +“Oh, _sartin_ sure, miss; for Martin mentioned, moreover, what he had +heard talk in the servants’ hall, that there is to be a very _pettiklar_ +old gentleman, as rich! as rich! as rich can be! from foreign parts, +and a great friend of the colonel that’s dead; and he--that is, the old +_pettiklar_ gentleman--is to be down all the way from Lon’on to dine at +the park on Tuesday for _sartin_: so, husband, away with the john-doree +and the turbot, while they be fresh.” + +“But why,” thought Miss Walsingham, “did not Mrs. Beaumont tell us the +plain truth, if this is the truth?” + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + “_Young Hermes next, a close contriving god, + Her brows encircled with his serpent rod; + Then plots and fair excuses fill her brain, + And views of breaking am’rous vows for gain_.” + + +The information which Mrs. Beaumont’s man, Martin, had learned from the +servants’ hall, and had communicated to the fisherman’s wife, was more +correct, and had been less amplified, embellished, misunderstood, or +misrepresented, than is usually found to be the case with pieces of +news which are so heard and so repeated. It was true that Mrs. Beaumont +expected to see on Tuesday an old gentleman, a Mr. Palmer, who had been +a friend of her husband’s; he had lately returned from Jamaica, where he +had made a large fortune. It is true, also, that this old gentleman +was _a little particular_, but not precisely in the sense in which the +fisherman’s wife understood the phrase; he was not particularly fond +of john-dorees and turbots, but he was particularly fond of making his +fellow-creatures happy; particularly generous, particularly open and +honest in his nature, abhorring all artifice himself, and unsuspicious +of it in others. He was unacquainted with Mrs. Beaumont’s character, as +he had been for many years in the West Indies, and he knew her only +from her letters, in which she appeared every thing that was candid and +amiable. His great friendship for her deceased husband also inclined him +to like her. Colonel Beaumont had appointed him one of the guardians of +his children, but Mr. Palmer, being absent from England, had declined to +act: he was also trustee to Mrs. Beaumont’s marriage-settlement, and +she had represented that it was necessary he should be present at the +settlement of her family affairs upon her son’s coming of age; an event +which was to take place in a few days. The urgent representations of +Mrs. Beaumont, and the anxious desire she expressed to see Mr. Palmer, +had at last prevailed with the good old gentleman to journey down +to Beaumont Park, though he was a valetudinarian, and though he was +obliged, he said, to return to Jamaica with the West India fleet, which +was expected to sail in ten days; so that he announced positively that +he could stay but a week at Beaumont Park with his good friends and +relations. + +He was related but distantly to the Beaumonts, and he stood in precisely +the same degree of relationship to the Walsinghams. He had no other +relations, and his fortune was completely at his own disposal. On this +fortune our cunning widow had speculated long and deeply, though in fact +there was no occasion for art: it was Mr. Palmer’s intention to leave +his large fortune to the Beaumonts; or to divide it between the Beaumont +and Walsingham families; and had she been sincere in her professed +desire of a complete union by a double marriage between the +representatives of the families, her favourite object would have been, +in either case, equally secure. Here was a plain, easy road to her +object; but it was too direct for Mrs. Beaumont. With all her abilities, +she could never comprehend the axiom that a right line is the shortest +possible line between any two points:--an axiom equally true in morals +and in mathematics. No, the serpentine line was, in her opinion, not +only the most beautiful, but the most expeditious, safe, and convenient. + +She had formed a triple scheme of such intricacy, that it is necessary +distinctly to state the argument of her plot, lest the action should be +too complicated to be easily developed. + +She had, in the first place, a design of engrossing the whole of Mr. +Palmer’s fortune for her own family; and for this purpose she determined +to prevent Mr. Palmer from becoming acquainted with his other relations, +the Walsinghams, to whom she had always had a secret dislike, because +they were of remarkably open, sincere characters. As Mr. Palmer proposed +to stay but a week in the country, this scheme of preventing their +meeting seemed feasible. + +In the second place, Mrs. Beaumont wished to marry her daughter to Sir +John Hunter, because Sir John was heir expectant to a large estate, +called the Wigram estate, and because there was in his family a certain +reversionary title, the earldom of Puckeridge, which would devolve to +Sir John after the death of a near relation. + +In the third place, Mrs. Beaumont wished to marry her own son to Miss +Hunter, who was Sir John’s sister by a second marriage, and above twenty +years younger than he was: this lady was preferred to Miss Walsingham +for a daughter-in-law, for the reasons which Mr. Walsingham had given; +because she possessed an independent fortune of two hundred thousand +pounds, and because she was so childish and silly that Mrs. Beaumont +thought she could always manage her easily, and by this means retain +power over her son. Miss Hunter was very pretty, and Mrs. Beaumont +had observed that her son had sometimes been struck with her beauty +sufficiently to give hopes that, by proper management, he might be +diverted from his serious, sober preference of Miss Walsingham. + +Mrs. Beaumont foresaw many difficulties in the execution of these +plans. She knew that Amelia liked Captain Walsingham, and that Captain +Walsingham was attached to her, though he had never declared his love: +and she dreaded that Captain Walsingham, who was at this time at sea, +should return, just whilst Mr. Palmer was with her; because she was well +aware that the captain was a kind of man Mr. Palmer would infinitely +prefer to Sir John Hunter. Indeed, she had been secretly informed that +Mr. Palmer hated every one who had a title; therefore she could +not, whilst he was with her, openly encourage Sir John Hunter in his +addresses to Amelia. To conciliate these seemingly incompatible schemes, +she determined----But let our heroine speak for herself. + +“My dearest Miss Hunter,” said she, “now we are by ourselves, let me +open my mind to you; I have been watching for an opportunity these two +days, but so hurried as I have been!--Where’s Amelia?” + +“Out walking, ma’am. She told me you begged her to walk to get rid of +her head-ache; and that she might look well to-day, as Mr. Palmer is to +come. I would not go with her, because you whispered to me at breakfast +that you had something very particular to say to me.” + +“But you did not give _that_ as a reason, I hope! Surely you didn’t tell +Amelia that I had something particular to say to you?” + +“Oh, no, ma’am; I told her that I had something to do about my +dress--and so I had--my new hat to try on.” + +“True, my love; quite right; for you know I wouldn’t have her suspect +that we had any thing to say to each other that we didn’t wish her to +hear, especially as it is about herself.” + +“Herself!--Oh, is it?” said Miss Hunter, in a tone of disappointment. + +“And about you, too, my darling. Be assured I have no daughter I +love better, or ever shall. With such a son as I have, and such a +daughter-in-law as I hope and trust I shall have ere long, I shall think +myself the most fortunate of mothers.” + +Silly Miss Hunter’s face brightened up again. “But now, my love,” + continued Mrs. Beaumont, taking her hand, leading her to a window, and +speaking very low, though no one else was in the room, “before we talk +any more of what is nearest my heart, I must get you to write a note +for me to your brother, directly, for there is a circumstance I +forgot--thoughtless creature that I am! but indeed, I never can _think_ +when I _feel_ much. Some people are always so collected and prudent. +But I have none of that!--Heigho! Well, my dear, you must supply my +deficiencies. You will write and tell Sir John, that in my agitation +when he made his proposal for my Amelia, of which I so frankly approved, +I omitted to warn him, that no hint must be given that I do any thing +more than permit him to address my daughter upon an equal footing with +any other gentleman who might address her. Stay, my dear; you don’t +understand me, I see. In short, to be candid with you--old Mr. Palmer is +coming to-day, you know. Now, my dear, you must be aware that it is of +the greatest consequence to the interests of my family, of which I +hope you always consider yourself (for I have always considered you) as +forming a part, and a very distinguished part--I say, my darling, that +we must consider that it is our interest in all things to please and +humour this good old gentleman. He will be with us but for a week, +you know. Well, the point is this. I have been informed from undoubted +authority, people who were about him at the time, and knew, that the +reason he quarrelled with that nephew of his, who died two years ago, +was the young man’s having accepted a baronetage: and at that time +old Palmer swore, that _no sprig of quality_--those were the very +words--should ever inherit a shilling of his money. Such a ridiculous +whim! But these London merchants, who make great fortunes from nothing, +are apt to have their little eccentricities; and then, they have so +much pride in their own way, and so much self-will and mercantile +downrightness in their manners, that there’s no managing them but by +humouring their fancies. I’m convinced, if Mr. Palmer suspected that I +even wished Amelia to marry Sir John, he would never leave any of us a +farthing, and it would all go to the Walsinghams. So, my dear, do you +explain to your brother, that though I have not the least objection to +his coming here whilst Mr. Palmer is with us, he must not take umbrage +at any seeming coldness in my manner. He knows my heart, I trust; at +least, you do, my Albina. And even if I should be obliged to receive or +to go to see the Walsinghams, which, by-the-bye, I have taken means +to prevent; but if it should happen that they were to hear of Palmer’s +being with us, and come, and Sir John should meet them, he must not +be surprised or jealous at my speaking in the highest terms of Captain +Walsingham. This I shall be obliged to do as a blind before Mr. Palmer. +I must make him believe that I prefer a commoner for my son-in-law, or +we are all undone with him. You know it is my son’s interest, and yours, +as well as your brother’s and Amelia’s, that I consider. So explain all +this to him, my dear; you will explain it so much better, and make it so +much more palpable to your brother than I could.” + +“Dear Mrs. Beaumont, how can you think so? You who write so well, and +such long letters about every thing, and so quick! But goodness! I shall +never get it all into a letter I’m afraid, and before Mr. Palmer comes, +and then it will soon be dressing-time! La! I could say it all to John +in five minutes: what a pity he is not here to-day!” + +“Well, my love, then suppose you were to go to him; as you so prudently +remark, things of this sort are always so much easier and better said +than written. And now I look at my watch, I see you cannot have time to +write a long letter, and to dress. So I believe, though I shall grieve +to lose you, I must consent to your going for this one day to your +brother’s. My carriage and Williamson shall attend you,” said Mrs. +Beaumont, ringing the bell to order the carriage; “but remember you +promise me now to come back, positively, to-morrow, or next day at +farthest, if I should not be able to send the carriage again to-morrow. +I would not, upon any account, have you away, if it can possibly be +helped, whilst Mr. Palmer is here, considering you as I do [The carriage +to the door directly, and Williamson to attend Miss Hunter]--considering +you as I do, my dearest Albina, quite as my own daughter.” + +“Oh, my dearest Mrs. Beaumont, you are so kind!” said the poor girl, +whom Mrs. Beaumont could always thus easily _pay with words_. + +The carriage came to the door with such prompt obedience to Mrs. +Beaumont’s summons, that one of a more reflecting or calculating nature +than Miss Hunter might have suspected that it had been ordered to be in +readiness to carry her away this morning. + +“Fare ye well, my own Albina! be sure you don’t stay long from us,” + said Mrs. Beaumont, accompanying her to the hall-door. “A thousand kind +things to everybody, and your brother in particular. But, my dear Miss +Hunter, one word more,” said she, following to the carriage door, and +whispering: “there’s another thing that I must trust to your management +and cleverness;--I mentioned that Mr. Palmer was to know nothing of _the +approbation_ of Sir John’s suit.” + +“Oh, yes, yes, ma’am, I understand perfectly.” + +“But stay, my love; you must understand, too, that it is to be quite a +secret between ourselves, not to be mentioned to my son even; for you +know he is sudden in his temper, and warm and quite in the Walsingham +interest, and there’s no knowing what might be the consequence if +it were to be let out imprudently, and Sir John and Edward both so +high-spirited. One can’t be too cautious, my dear, to prevent mischief +between gentlemen. So caution your brother to leave it to me to break +it, and bring things about with Edward and Amelia,”--[stopping +Miss Hunter again as she made a second effort to get into the +carriage,]--“You comprehend, my dear, that Amelia is not in the +secret yet--so not a word from your brother to her about _my +approbation!_--that would ruin all. I trust to his honour; and +besides--” drawing the young lady back for the third whisper.--Miss +Hunter stood suspended with one foot in air, and the other on the +step; the coachman, impatient to be off, manoeuvred to make his +horses restless, whilst at the same time he cried aloud--“So! so! +Prancer--stand still, Peacock; stand still, sir!” + +Miss Hunter jumped down on terra firma. “Those horses frighten me so +for you, my dear!” said Mrs. Beaumont. “Martin, stand at their heads. My +dear child, I won’t detain you, for you’ll be late. I had only to say, +that--oh! that I trust implicitly to your brother’s honour; but, +besides this, it will not be amiss for you to hint, as you know you can +delicately--_delicately_, you understand--that it is for his interest +to leave me to manage every thing. Yet none of this is to be said _as +if from me_--pray don’t let it come from me. Say it all from yourself. +Don’t let my name be mentioned at all. Don’t commit me, you understand?” + +“Perfectly, perfectly, ma’am: one kiss, dear Mrs. Beaumont, and adieu. +Is my dressing-box in? Tell him to drive fast, for I hate going slow. +Dearest Mrs. Beaumont, good bye. I feel as if I were going for an age, +though it is only for one day.” + +“Dear, affectionate girl! I love _heart_--Good bye--Drive fast, as Miss +Hunter desires you.” + +Our fair politician, well satisfied with the understanding of her +confidante, which never comprehended more than met the ear, and secure +in a chargé d’affaires, whose powers it was never necessary to limit, +stood on the steps before the house-door, deep in reverie, for some +minutes after the carriage had driven away, till she was roused by +seeing her son returning from his morning’s ride. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + _“Will you hear a Spanish lady, + How she woo’d an English man? + Garments gay as rich as may be, + Deck’d with jewels, she had on.”_ + + THE SPANISH LADY’S LOVE. _Percy’s Reliques of Ancient Poetry_ + + +Mr. Beaumont had just been at a neighbouring farm-house, where there +lived one of Mr. Walsingham’s tenants; a man of the name of Birch, a +respectable farmer, who was originally from Ireland, and whose son was +at sea with Captain Walsingham. The captain had taken young Birch under +his particular care, at Mr. Walsingham’s request. + +Birch’s parents had this day received a letter from their son, which in +the joy and pride of their hearts they showed to Mr. Beaumont, who was +in the habit of calling at their house to inquire if they had heard any +news of their son, or of Captain Walsingham. Mr. Beaumont liked to +read Birch’s letters, because they were written with characteristic +simplicity and affection, and somewhat in the Irish idiom, which this +young sailor’s English education had not made him entirely forget. + + +LETTER FROM BIRCH TO HIS PARENTS. + +“H.M.S. l’Ambuscade. + +“HONOURED PARENTS, + +“I write this from sea, lat. N. 44.15--long. W. 9.45--wind N.N.E.--to +let you know you will not see me so soon as I said in my last, of the +16th. Yesterday, P.M. two o’clock, some despatches were brought to +my good captain, by the Pickle sloop, which will to-morrow, wind and +weather permitting, alter our destination. What the nature of them is I +cannot impart to you, for it has not transpired beyond the lieutenants; +but whatever I do under the orders of my good captain, I am satisfied +and confident all is for the best. For my own share, I long for an +opportunity of fighting the French, and of showing the captain _what +is in me_, and that the pains he has took to make a gentleman, and an +honour to his majesty’s service, of me, is not thrown away. Had he been +my own father, or brother, he could not be better, or _done more_. +God willing, I will never disgrace his principles, for it would be +my ambition to be like him in every respect; and he says, if I behave +myself as I ought, I shall soon be a lieutenant; and a lieutenant in his +majesty’s navy is as good a gentleman as any in England, and has a right +(tell my sister Kitty) to hand the first woman in Lon’on out of her +carriage, if he pleases, and if she pleases. + +“Now we talk of ladies, and as please God we shall soon be in action, +and may not have another opportunity of writing to you this great while, +for there is talk of our sailing southward with the fleet to bring the +French and Spaniards to action, I think it best to send you all the news +I have in this letter. But pray bid Kate, with my love, mind this, that +not a word of the following is to take wind for her life, on account of +my not knowing if it might be agreeable, or how it might affect my good +captain, and others that shall be nameless. You must know then that when +we were at ----, where we were stationed six weeks and two days, waiting +for the winds, and one cause or other, we used to employ ourselves, +I and my captain, taking soundings (which I can’t more particularly +explain the nature of to you, especially in a letter); for he always +took me out to attend him in preference to any other; and after he had +completed his soundings, and had no farther use for me in that job, I +asked him leave to go near the same place in the evening to fish, which +my good captain consented to (as he always does to what (duty done) can +gratify me), provided I was in my ship by ten. Now you must know that +there are convents in this country (which you have often heard of, +Kitty, no doubt), being damnable places, where young _Catholic_ women +are shut up unmarried, often, it is to be reasonably supposed, against +their wills. And there is a convent in one of the suburbs which has a +high back wall to the garden of it that comes down near the strand; and +it was under this wall we two used to sound, and that afterwards I used +to be fishing. And one evening, when I was not thinking of any such +thing, there comes over the wall a huge nosegay of flowers, with a stone +in it, that made me jump. And this for three evenings running the same +way, about the same hour; till at last one evening as I was looking up +at the wall, as I had now learned to do about the time the nosegays +were thrown over, I saw coming down a stone tied to a string, and to the +stone a letter, the words of which I can’t particularly take upon me to +recollect, because I gave up the paper to my captain, who desired it of +me, and took no copy; but the sense was, that in that convent there was +shut up a lady, the daughter of an English gentleman by a Spanish +wife, both her parents being dead, and her Spanish relations and +father-confessor (or catholic priest of a man), not wishing she should +get to England, where she might be what she had a right to be by birth, +at least by her father’s side (a _protestant_), shut her up since she +was a child. And that there was a relative of hers in England, who with +a wicked lawyer or attorney had got possession of her estate, and made +every body believe she was dead. And so, it being seven years and more +since she was heard of, she is what is called dead in law, which sort of +death however won’t signify, if she appears again. Wherefore the letter +goes on to say, she would be particularly glad to make her escape, and +get over to old England. But she confesses that she is neither young nor +handsome, and may-be never may be rich; therefore, that whoever helps +her must do it for the sake of doing good and nothing else; for though +she would pay all expenses handsomely, she could not promise more. And +that she knew the danger of the undertaking to be great; greater for +them that would carry her off even than for herself. That she knows, +however, that British sailors are brave as they are generous (this part +of the letter was very well indited, and went straight to my heart +the minute ever I read it); and she wished it could be in the power of +Captain Walsingham to take her under his immediate protection, and +that she had taken measures so as she could escape over the wall of the +garden if he would have a boat in readiness to carry her to his ship; +and at the same hour next evening the stone should be let down as usual, +and he might fasten his answer to it, which would be drawn up in due +course. Concluding all this with, ‘That she would not go at all unless +Captain Walsingham came for her himself (certifying himself to be +himself, I suppose), for she knew him to be a gentleman by reputation, +and she should be safe under his protection, and so would her secret, +she was confident, at all events.’ This was the entire and sum total of +the letter. So when I had read to the end, and looked for the postscript +and all, I found for my pains that the lady mistook me for my captain, +or would not have written or thrown the nosegays. So I took the letter +to my captain; and what he answered, and how it was settled (by signals, +I suppose) between them after, it was not for me to inquire. Not a word +more was said by him to me or I to him on the topic, till the very night +we were to sail for England. It was then that our captain took me aside, +and he says, ‘Birch, will you assist me? I ask this not as your captain, +so you are at liberty to do as you please. Will you help me to rescue +this lady, who seems to be unjustly detained, and to carry her back safe +to her country and her friends?’ I told him I would do that or any thing +else he bid me, confident he would never ask me to do a wrong thing; +and as to the lady, I should be proud to help to carry her off to old +England and her lawful friends, only I thought (if I might be so bold) +it was a pity she was not young and handsome, for his sake. At that he +smiled, and only said, ‘Perhaps it was best for him as it was.’ Then +he settled about the boat, and who were to go, and when. It was twelve +o’clock striking by the great town clock when we were under the walls of +the convent, as appointed. And all was hush and silent as the grave for +our very lives. For it was a matter of life or death, I promise you, and +we all knew as much, and the sailors had a dread of the Inquisition upon +them that was beyond all terrible! So we watched and waited, and waited +and watched so long, that we thought something must have gone wrong, +or that all was found out, and the captain could not delay the ship’s +sailing; and he struck his repeater, and it was within a quarter of one, +and he said, ‘It is too late; we must put back.’ Just then, I, that was +watching with the lantern in my hand, gave notice, and first there comes +down a white bundle, fastened to the stone and cord. Then the captain +and I fixed the ladder of ropes, and down came the lady, as well as ever +she went up, and not a word but away with her: the captain had her in +a trice in our boat, safe and snug, and off we put, rowing for the bare +life, all silent as ever. I think I hear the striking of our oars +and the plashing of the water this minute, which we would have gladly +silenced, but could not any way in nature. But none heard it, or at +least took any notice against us. I can give you no idea of the terror +which the lady manifested when the boat stood out to sea, at the +slightest squall of wind, or the least agitation of the waves; for +besides being naturally cowardly, as all or most women are for the first +time at sea, here was a poor soul who had been watching, and may be +fasting, and worn out mind and body with the terror of perfecting her +escape from the convent, where she had been immured all her life, and as +helpless as a child. So it was wonderful she went through it as well as +she did and without screaming, which should be an example to Kate and +others. Glad enough even we men were when we reached the ship. There +was, at that time, a silence on board you could have heard a pin drop, +all being in perfect readiness for getting under way, the sails +ready for dropping, and officers and sailors waiting in the greatest +expectation of our boat’s return. Our boat passed swiftly alongside, +and great beyond belief was the astonishment of all at seeing a woman +veiled, hoisted out, and in, and ushered below, half fainting. I never +felt more comfortable in my life than when we found her and ourselves +safe aboard l’Ambuscade. The anchor was instantly weighed, all sail +made, and the ship stood out to sea. To the lady the captain gave up his +cabin: double sentries were placed, and as the captain ordered, +every precaution that could shield her character in such suspicious +circumstances were enforced with the utmost punctilio. I cannot +describe, nor can you even conceive, Kate, the degree of curiosity shown +about her; all striving to get a sight of her when she first went down, +and most zealous they were to bring lights; but that would not do, for +they could not see her for her veil. Yet through all we could make out +that she was a fine figure of a woman at any rate, and something more +than ordinary, from the air she had with her. The next day when she was +sitting on deck the wind by times would blow aside her veil so as to +give us glimpses of her face; when, to our surprise, and I am sure to +the captain’s satisfaction, we found she was beyond all contradiction +young and handsome. And moreover I have reason to believe she has fine +jewels with her, besides a ring from her own finger, which with a very +pretty action she put on his, that next day on deck, as I noticed, when +nobody was minding. So that no doubt she is as much richer as she is +handsomer than she made believe, contrary to the ways of other women, +which is in her favour and my good captain’s; for from what I can judge, +after all he has done for her, she has no dislike nor objection to him. + +“I have not time to add any thing more, but my love to Kitty, and Nancy, +and Tom, and Mary, and little Bess; and, honoured parents, wishing you +good health as I am in, thank God, at this present, + +“I am your dutiful and loving son, + +“JOHN BIRCH. + +“P.S. I open my letter to tell you we are going southward immediately, +all in high spirits, as there is hopes of meeting the French and +Spaniards. We have just hoisted the nun-lady on board an English packet. +God send her and this letter safe to England.” + + * * * * * + +Mr. Beaumont might perhaps have been amused by this romantic story, and +by the style in which it was told, if he had not been alarmed by the +hint at the conclusion of the letter, that the lady was not indifferent +to her deliverer. Now Mr. Beaumont earnestly wished that his friend +Captain Walsingham might become his brother-in-law; and he began to have +fears about this Spanish lady, with her gratitude, her rings, and the +advantages of the great interest her misfortunes and helpless condition +would excite, together with the vast temptations to fall in love that +might occur during the course of a voyage. Had he taken notice of the +postscript, his mind would have been somewhat relieved. On this subject +Mr. Beaumont pondered all the way that he rode home, and on this subject +he was still meditating when he saw his mother standing on the steps, +where we left her when Miss Hunter’s carriage drove away. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +“I shall in all my best obey you, madam.” HAMLET. + + +“Did you meet Miss Hunter, my dear son?” said she. + +“Yes, ma’am, I just passed the carriage in the avenue: she is going +home, is not she?” said he, rather in a tone of satisfaction. + +“Ah, poor thing! yes,” said Mrs. Beaumont, in a most pathetic tone: “ah, +poor thing!” + +“Why, ma’am, what has happened to her? What’s the matter?” + +“Matter? Oh, nothing!--Did I say that any thing was the matter? Don’t +speak so loud,” whispered she: “your groom heard every word we said; +stay till he is out of hearing, and then we can talk.” + +“I don’t care if all the world hears what I say,” cried Mr. Beaumont +hastily: but, as if suppressing his rising indignation, he, with a +milder look and tone, added, “I cannot conceive, my dear mother, why you +are always so afraid of being overheard.” + +“Servants, my dear, make such mischief, you know, by misunderstanding +and misrepresenting every thing they hear; and they repeat things so +oddly, and raise such strange reports!” + +“True--very true indeed, ma’am,” said Mr. Beaumont. “You are quite +right, and I beg pardon for being so hasty--I wish you could teach me a +little of your patience and prudence.” + +“Prudence! ah! my dear Edward, ‘tis only time and sad experience of the +world can teach that to people of _our_ open tempers. I was at your age +ten times more imprudent and unsuspicious than you are.” + +“Were you, ma’am?--But I don’t think I am unsuspicious. I was when I was +a boy--I wish we could continue children always in some things. I hate +suspicion in any body--but more than in any one else, I hate it in +myself. And yet--” + +Mr. Beaumont hesitated, and his mother instantly went on with a fluent +panegyric upon the hereditary unsuspiciousness of his temper. + +“But, madam, were you not saying something to me about Miss Hunter?” + +“Was I?--Oh, I was merely going to say, that I was sorry you did not +know she was going this morning, that you might have taken leave of her, +poor thing!” + +“Take leave of her! ma’am: I bowed to her, and wished her a good +morning, when I met her just now, and she told me she was only going to +the hall for a day. Surely no greater leave-taking was requisite, when I +am to see the lady again to-morrow, I presume.” + +“That is not quite so certain as she thinks, poor soul! I told her +I would send for her again to-morrow, just to keep up her spirits at +leaving me. Walk this way, Edward, under the shade of the trees, for I +am dead with the heat; and you, too, look so hot! I say I am not so sure +that it would be prudent to have her here so much, especially whilst Mr. +Palmer is with us, you know--” Mrs. Beaumont paused, as if waiting for +an assent, or a dissent, or a leading hint how to proceed: but her son +persisting in perverse silence, she was forced to repeat, “You know, +Edward, my dear, you know?” + +“I don’t know, indeed, ma’am.” + +“You don’t know!” + +“Faith, not I, ma’am. I don’t know, for the soul of me, what Mr. +Palmer’s coming has to do with Miss Hunter’s going. There’s room enough +in the house, I suppose, for each of them, and all of us to play our +parts. As to the rest, the young lady’s coming or going is quite a +matter of indifference to me, except, of course, as far as politeness +and hospitality go. But all that I leave to you, who do the honours for +me so well.” + +Mrs. Beaumont’s ideas were utterly thrown out of their order by this +speech, no part of which was exactly what she wished or expected: not +that any of the sentiments it contained or suggested were new to her; +but she was not prepared to meet them thus clothed in distinct words, +and in such a compact form. She had drawn up her forces for battle in +an order which this unexpectedly decisive movement of the enemy +discomfited; and a less able tactician might have been, in these +circumstances, not only embarrassed, but utterly defeated: yet, however +unprepared for this sudden shock, with admirable generalship our female +Hannibal, falling back in the centre, admitted him to advance impetuous +and triumphant, till she had him completely surrounded. + +“My being of age in a few days,” continued Mr. Beaumont, “will not make +any difference, surely; I depend upon it, that you will always invite +whomever you like to this house, of which I hope, my dear mother, you +will always do me the favour to be the mistress--till I marry, at least. +For my wife’s feelings,” added he, smiling, “I can’t engage, before I +have her.” + +“And before we know who she is to be,” said Mrs. Beaumont, carelessly. +“Time enough, as you say, to think of that. Besides, there are few women +in the world, I know scarcely one, with whom, in the relation of mother +and daughter-in-law, I should wish to live. But wherever I live, my dear +son, as long as I have a house, I hope you will always do me the justice +and the pleasure to consider yourself as its master. Heaven knows +I shall never give any other man a right to dispute with you the +sovereignty of my castle, or my cottage, whichever it may be. As to the +rest,” pursued Mrs. Beaumont, “you cannot marry against my wishes, my +dear Edward; for your wishes on this, as on all other subjects, will +ever govern mine.” + +Her son kissed her hand with warm gratitude. + +“You will not, I hope, think that I seek to prolong my regency, or to +assume undue power or influence in affairs,” continued Mrs. Beaumont, +“if I hint to you in general terms what I think may contribute to your +happiness. You must afterwards decide for yourself; and are now, as you +have ever been, master, to do as you please.” + +“Too much--too much. I have had too much liberty, and have too little +acquired the habit of commanding my will and my passions by my reason. +Of this I am sensible. My excellent friend, Captain Walsingham, told me, +some years ago, that this was the fault of my character, and he charged +me to watch over myself; and so I have; but not so strictly, I fear, as +if he had watched along with me.----Well, ma’am, you were going to give +me some advice; I am all attention.” + +“My dear son, Captain Walsingham showed his judgment more, perhaps, in +pointing out causes than effects. The weakness of a fond mother, I am +sensible, did indulge you in childhood, and, perhaps, more imprudently +in youth, with an unlimited liberty to judge and act for yourself. Your +mother’s system of education came, alas! more from her heart than her +head. Captain Walsingham himself cannot be more sensible of my errors +than I am.” + +“Captain Walsingham, believe me, mother, never mentioned this in +reproach to you. He is not a man to teach a son to see his mother’s +errors--if she had any. He always spoke of you with the greatest +respect. And since I must, at my own expense, do him justice, it was, +I well remember, upon some occasion where I spoke too hastily, and +insisted upon my will in opposition to yours, madam, that Captain +Walsingham took me aside, and represented to me the fault into which my +want of command over myself had betrayed me. This he did so forcibly, +that I have never from that hour to this (I flatter myself) on any +material occasion, forgotten the impression he made on my mind. But, +madam, I interrupt you: you were going to give me your advice about--” + +“No, no--no advice--no advice; you are, in my opinion, fully adequate to +the direction of your own conduct. I was merely going to suggest, that, +since you have not been accustomed to control from a mother, and since +you have, thank Heaven! a high spirit, that would sooner break than +bend, it must be essential to your happiness to have a wife of a +compliant, gentle temper; not fond of disputing the right, or attached +to her own opinions; not one who would be tenacious of rule, and +unseasonably inflexible.” + +“Unseasonably inflexible! Undoubtedly, ma’am. Yet I should despise a +mean-spirited wife.” + +“I am sure you would. But compliance that proceeds from affection, you +know, can never deserve to be called mean-spirited--nor would it so +appear to you. I am persuaded that there is a degree of fondness, of +affection, enthusiastic affection, which disposes the temper always to +a certain softness and yieldingness, which, I conceive, would be +peculiarly attractive to you, and essential to your happiness: in short, +I know your temper could not bear contradiction.” + +“Oh, indeed, ma’am, you are quite mistaken.” + +“Quite mistaken! and at the very moment he reddens with anger, because +I contradict, even in the softest, gentlest manner in my power, his +opinion of himself!” + +“You don’t understand me, indeed, you don’t understand me,” said Mr. +Beaumont, beating with his whip the leaves of a bush which was near him. +“Either you don’t understand me, or I don’t understand you. I am much +more able to bear contradiction than you think I am, provided it be +direct. But I do not love--what I am doing at this instant,” added he, +smiling--“I don’t love beating about the bush.” + +“Look there now!--Strange creatures you men are! So like he looks to his +poor father, who used to tell me that he loved to be contradicted, and +yet who would not, I am sure, have lived three days with any woman who +had ventured to contradict him directly. Whatever influence I obtained +in his heart, and whatever happiness we enjoyed in our union, I +attribute to my trusting to my observations on his character rather than +to his own account of himself. Therefore I may be permitted to claim +some judgment of what would suit your hereditary temper.” + +“Certainly, ma’am, certainly. But to come to the point at once, may I +ask this plain question--Do you, by these reflections, mean to allude +to any particular persons? Is there any woman in the world you at this +instant would wish me to marry?” + +“Yes--Miss Walsingham.” + +Mr. Beaumont started with joyful surprise, when his mother thus +immediately pronounced the very name he wished to hear. + +“You surprise and delight me, my dear mother!” + +“Surprise!--How can that be?--Surely you must know my high opinion of +Miss Walsingham. But----” + +“But--you added _but_----” + +“There is no woman who may not be taxed with a _but_--yet it is not +for her friend to lower her merit. My only objection to her is--I shall +infallibly affront you, if I name it.” + +“Name it! name it! You will not affront me.” + +“My only objection to her then is, her superiority. She is so superior, +that, forgive me, I don’t know any man, yourself not excepted, who is at +all her equal.” + +“I think precisely as you do, and rejoice.” + +“Rejoice? why there I cannot sympathize with you. I own, as a mother, I +should feel a little--a little mortified to see my son not the superior; +and when the comparison is to be daily and hourly made, and to last +for life, and all the world to see it as well as myself. I own I have a +mother’s vanity. I should wish to see my son always what he has hitherto +been--the superior, and master in his own house.” + +Mr. Beaumont made no reply to these insinuations, but walked on in +silence; and his mother, unable to determine precisely whether the +vexation apparent in his countenance proceeded from disapprobation of +her observations, or from their working the effect she desired upon his +pride, warily waited till he should betray some decisive symptom of his +feelings. But she waited in vain--he was resolved not to speak. + +“There is not a woman upon earth I should wish so much to have as a +daughter-in-law, a companion, and a friend, as Miss Walsingham. You must +be convinced,” resumed Mrs. Beaumont, “so far as I am concerned, it is +the most desirable thing in the world. But I should think it my duty to +put my own feelings and wishes out of the question, and to make myself +prefer whomsoever, all things considered, my judgment tells me would +make you the happiest.” + +“And whom would your judgment prefer, madam?” + +“Why--I am not at liberty to tell--unless I could explain all my +reasons. Indeed, I know not what to say.” + +“Dear madam, explain all your reasons, or we shall never understand one +another, and never come to an end of these half explanations.” + +Here they were interrupted by seeing Mr. Twigg, a courtly clergyman, +coming towards them. Beaumont was obliged to endure his tiresome +flattery upon the beauties of Beaumont Park, and upon the judicious +improvements that were making, had been made, and would, no doubt, +be very soon made. Mrs. Beaumont, at last, relieved his or her own +impatience by commissioning Mr. Twigg to walk round the improvements by +himself. By himself she insisted it should be, that she might have his +unbiassed judgment upon the two lines which had been marked for the new +belt or screen; and he was also to decide whether they should call it a +belt or a screen.--Honoured with this commission, he struck off into the +walk to which Mrs. Beaumont pointed, and began his solitary progress. + +Mr. Beaumont then urged his mother to go on with her explanation. Mrs. +Beaumont thought that she could not hazard much by flattering the vanity +of a man on that subject on which perhaps it is most easily flattered; +therefore, after sufficient delicacy of circumlocution, she informed her +son that there was a young lady who was actually dying for love of him; +whose extreme fondness would make her live but in him; and who, besides +having a natural ductility of character, and softness of temper, was +perfectly free from any formidable superiority of intellect, and had the +most exalted opinion of his capacity, as well as of his character and +accomplishments; in short, such an enthusiastic adoration, as would +induce that belief in the infallibility of a husband, which must secure +to him the fullest enjoyment of domestic peace, power, and pre-eminence. + +Mr. Beaumont seemed less moved than his mother had calculated that the +vanity of man must be, by such a declaration--discovery it could not +be called. “If I am to take all this seriously, madam,” replied he, +laughing, “and if, _au pied de la lettre_ my vanity is to believe that +this damsel is dying for love; yet, still I have so little chivalry in +my nature, that I cannot understand how it would add to my happiness to +sacrifice myself to save her life. That I am well suited to her, I am +as willing as vanity can make me to believe; but how is it to be proved +that the lady is suited to me?” + +“My dear, these things do not admit of logical proof.” + +“Well--moral, sentimental, or any kind of proof you please.” + +“Have you no pity? and is not pity akin to love?” + +“Akin! Oh, yes, ma’am, it is akin; but for that very reason it may not +be a friend--relations, you know, in these days, are as often enemies as +friends.” + +“Vile pun! far-fetched quibble!--provoking boy!--But I see you are not +in a humour to be serious, so I will take another time to talk to you of +this affair.” + +“Now or never, ma’am, for mercy’s sake!” + +“Mercy’s sake! you who show none--Ah! this is the way with you men; all +this is play to you, but death to us.” + +“Death! dear ma’am; ladies, you know as well as I do, don’t die of love +in these days--you would not make a fool of your son.” + +“I could not; nor could any other woman--that is clear: but amongst us, +I am afraid we have, undesignedly indeed, but irremediably, made a fool +of this poor confiding girl.” + +“But, ma’am, in whom did she confide? not in me, I’ll swear. I have +nothing to reproach myself with, thank God!--My conscience is clear; I +have been as ungallant as possible. I have been as cruel as my +nature would permit. I am sure no one can charge me with giving false +promises--I scarcely speak--nor false hopes, for I scarcely look at the +young lady.” + +“So, then, you know who the young lady in question is?” + +“Perhaps I ought not to pretend to know.” + +“That would be useless affectation, alas! for I fear many know, and have +seen, and heard, much more than you have--or I either.” + +Here Mrs. Beaumont observed that her son’s colour changed, and that he +suddenly grew serious: aware that she had now touched upon the right +chord, she struck it again “with a master’s hand and prophet’s fire.” + She declared that all the world took it for granted that Miss Hunter was +to be married to Mr. Beaumont; that it was talked of every where; that +she was asked continually by her correspondents, when the marriage was +to take place?--in confirmation of which assertion, she produced bundles +of letters from her pockets, from Mrs. and Miss, and from Lady This, and +Lady That. + +“Nay,” continued she, “if it were confined even to the circle of one’s +private friends and acquaintance, I should not so much mind it, for one +might contradict, and have it contradicted, and one might send the poor +thing away to some watering-place, and the report might die away, as +reports do--sometimes. But all that sort of thing it is too late to +think of now--for the thing is public! quite public! got into the +newspapers! Here’s a paragraph I cut out this very morning from my +paper, lest the poor girl should see it. The other day, I believe you +saw it yourself, there was something of the same sort. ‘We hear that, as +soon as he comes of age, Mr. Beaumont, of Beaumont Park, is to lead +to the altar of Hymen, Miss Hunter, sister to Sir John Hunter, of +Devonshire.’ Well,--after you left the room, Albina took up the paper +you had been reading; and when she saw this paragraph, I thought she +would have dropped. I did not know what to do. Whatever I could say, you +know, would only make it worse. I tried to turn it off, and talked of +twenty things; but it would not do--no, no, it is too serious for that: +well, though I believe she would rather have put her hand in the fire, +she had the courage to speak to me about it herself.” + +“And what did she say, ma’am?” inquired Mr. Beaumont, eagerly. + +“Poor simple creature! she had but one idea--that you had seen it! that +she would not for the world you had read it. What would you think of +her--she should never be able to meet you again--What could she do? It +must be contradicted--somebody must contradict it. Then she worried me +to have it contradicted in the papers. I told her I did not well know +how that could be done, and urged that it would be much more prudent not +to fix attention upon the parties by more paragraphs. But she was _not_ +in a state to think of prudence;--_no_. What would you think was the +only idea in her mind?--If I would not write, she would write that +minute herself, and sign her name. This, and a thousand wild things, she +said, till I was forced to be quite angry, and to tell her she must be +governed by those who had more discretion than herself. Then she was so +subdued, so ashamed--really my heart bled for her, even whilst I scolded +her. But it is quite necessary to be harsh with her; for she has no more +foresight, nor art, nor command of herself sometimes, than a child of +five years old. I assure you, I was rejoiced to get her away before +Mr. Palmer came, for a new eye coming into a family sees so much one +wouldn’t wish to be seen. You know it would be terrible to have the poor +young creature _commit_ and expose herself to a stranger so early +in life. Indeed, as it is, I am persuaded no one will ever think of +marrying her, if you do not.----In worldly prudence--but of that she +has not an atom--in worldly prudence she might do better, or as well, +certainly; for her fortune will be very considerable. Sir John means to +add to it, when he gets the Wigram estate; and the old uncle, Wigram, +can’t live for ever. But poor Albina, I dare swear, does not know +what fortune she is to have, nor what you have. Love! love! all for +love!--and all in vain. She is certainly very much to be pitied.” + +Longer might Mrs. Beaumont have continued in monologue, without danger +of interruption from her son, who stood resolved to hear the utmost sum +of all that she should say on the subject. Never interrupting her, he +only filled certain pauses, that seemed expectant of reply, with the +phrases--“I am very sorry, indeed, ma’am”--and, “Really, ma’am, it is +out of my power to help it.” But Mrs. Beaumont observed that the latter +phrase had been omitted as she proceeded--and “_I am very sorry indeed, +ma’am,_” he repeated less as words of course, and more and more as if +they came from the heart. Having so far, successfully, as she thought, +worked upon her son’s good-nature, and seeing her daughter through the +trees coming towards them, she abruptly exclaimed, “Promise me, at all +events, dearest Edward, I conjure you; promise me that you will not +make proposals _any where else_, without letting me know of it +beforehand,--and give me time,” joining her hands in a supplicating +attitude, “give me but a few weeks, to prepare my poor little Albina for +this sad, sad stroke!” + +“I promise you, madam, that I will not, directly or indirectly, make an +offer of my hand or heart to any woman, without previously letting you +know my determination. And as for a few weeks, more or less--my mother, +surely, need not supplicate, but simply let me know her wishes--even +without her reasons, they would have been sufficient with me. Do I +satisfy you now, madam?” + +“More than satisfy--as you ever do, ever will, my dear son.” + +“But you will require no more on this subject--I must be left master of +myself.” + +“Indubitably--certainly--master of yourself--most certainly--of course.” + +Mr. Beaumont was going to add something beginning with, “It is better, +at once, to tell you, that I can never--” But Mrs. Beaumont stopped him +with, “Hush! my dear, hush! not a word more, for here is Amelia, and I +cannot talk on this subject before her, you know.----My beloved Amelia, +how languid you look! I fear that, to please me, you have taken too +long a walk; and Mr. Palmer won’t see you in your best looks, after +all.--What note is that you have in your hand?” + +“A note from Miss Walsingham, mamma.” + +“Oh! the chickenpox! take care! letters, notes, every thing may convey +the infection,” cried Mrs. Beaumont, snatching the paper. “How could +dearest Miss Walsingham be so giddy as to answer my note, after what I +said in my postscript!--How did this note come?” + +“By the little postboy, mamma; I met him at the porter’s lodge.” + +“But what is all this strange thing?” said Mrs. Beaumont, after having +read the note twice over.--It contained a certificate from the parish +minister and churchwardens, apothecary, and surgeon, bearing witness, +one and all, that there was no individual, man, woman, or child, in the +parish, or within three miles of Walsingham House, who was even under +any suspicion of having the chickenpox. + +“My father desires me to send Mrs. Beaumont the enclosed _clean bill +of health_--by which she will find that we need be no longer subject +to quarantine; and, unless some other reasons prevent our having the +pleasure of seeing her, we may hope soon that she will favour us with +her long promised visit. + +“Yours, sincerely, + +“MARIANNE WALSINGHAM.” + +“I am delighted,” said Mrs. Beaumont, “to find it was a false report, +and that we shall not be kept, the Lord knows how long, away from the +dear Walsinghams.” + +“Then we can go to them to-morrow, can’t we, mamma? And I will write, +and say so, shall I?” said Amelia. + +“No need to write, my dear; if we promise for any particular day, and +are not able to go, that seems unkind, and is taken ill, you see. And as +Mr. Palmer is coming, we can’t leave him.” + +“But he will go with us surely,” said Mr. Beaumont. “The Walsinghams are +as much his relations as we are; and if he comes two hundred miles to +see us, he will, surely, go seven to see them.” + +“True,” said Mrs. Beaumont; “but it is civil and kind to leave him to +fix his own day, poor old gentleman. After so long a journey, we must +allow him some rest. Consider, he can’t go galloping about as you do, +dear Edward.” + +“But,” said Amelia, “as the Walsinghams know he is to be in the country, +they will of course come to see him immediately.” + +“How do they know he is to be in the country?” + +“I thought--I took it for granted, you told them so, mamma, when +you wrote about not going to Walsingham House, on Mr. Walsingham’s +birthday.” + +“No, my dear; I was so full of the chickenpox, and terror about you, I +could think of nothing else.” + +“Thank you, dear mother--but now that is out of the question, I had best +write a line by the return of the postboy, to say, that Mr. Palmer is to +be here to-day, and that he stays only one week.” + +“Certainly! love--but let me write about it, for I have particular +reasons. And, my dear, now we are by ourselves, let me caution you not +to mention that Mr. Palmer can stay but one week: in the first place it +is uncivil to him, for we are not sure of it, and it is like driving him +away; and in the next place, there are reasons I can’t explain to you, +that know so little of the world, my dear Amelia--but, in general, it is +always foolish to mention things.” + +“Always foolish to mention things!” cried Mr. Beaumont, smiling. + +“Of this sort, I mean,” said Mrs. Beaumont, a little disconcerted. + +“Of what sort?” persisted her son. + +“Hush! my dear; here’s the postboy and the ass.” + +“Any letters, my good little boy? Any letters for me?” + +“I has, madam, a many for the house. I does not know for who--the bag +will tell,” said the boy, unstrapping the bag from his shoulders. + +“Give it to me, then,” said Mrs. Beaumont: “I am anxious for letters +always.” She was peculiarly anxious now to open the post-bag, to put +a stop to a conversation which did not please her. Whilst seated on a +rustic seat, under a spreading beech, our heroine, with her accustomed +looks of mystery, examined the seals of her numerous and important +letters, to ascertain whether they had been opened at the post-office, +or whether their folds might have been pervious to any prying eye. Her +son tore the covers off the newspapers; and, as he unfolded one, Amelia +leaned upon his shoulder, and whispered softly, “Any news of the fleet, +brother?” + +Mrs. Beaumont, than whom Fine-ear himself had not quicker auditory +nerves, especially for indiscreet whispers, looked up from her letters, +and examined, unperceived, the countenance of Amelia, who was searching +with eagerness the columns of the paper. As Mr. Beaumont turned over the +leaf, Amelia looked up, and, seeing her mother’s eyes fixed upon her, +coloured; and from want of presence of mind to invent any thing better +to say, asked if her mother wished to have the papers? + +“No,” said Mrs. Beaumont, coldly, “not I, Amelia; I am not such a +politician as you are grown.” + +Amelia withdrew her attention, or at least her eyes, from the paper, +and had recourse to the beech-tree, the beautiful foliage of which she +studied with profound attention. + +“God bless me! here’s news! news of the fleet!” cried Beaumont, turning +suddenly to his sister; and then recollecting himself, to his mother. +“Ma’am, they say there has been a great engagement between the French +and Spaniards, and the English--particulars not known yet: but, they +say, ten sail of the French line are taken, and four Spaniards blown +up, and six Spanish men-of-war disabled, and a treasure-ship taken. +Walsingham must have been in the engagement--My horse!--I’ll gallop over +this minute, and know from the Walsinghams if they have seen the papers, +and if there’s any thing more about it in their papers.” + +“Gallop! my dearest Edward,” said his mother, standing in his path; “but +you don’t consider Mr. Palmer--” + +“Damn Mr. Palmer! I beg your pardon, mother--I mean no harm to the old +gentleman--friend of my father’s--great respect for him--I’ll be back by +dinner-time, back ready to receive him--he can’t be here till six--only +five by me, now! Ma’am, I shall have more than time to dress, too, cool +as a cucumber, ready to receive the good old fellow.” + +“In one short hour, my dear!--seven miles to Walsingham House, and +seven back again, and all the time you will waste there, and to dress +too--only consider!” + +“I do consider, ma’am; and have considered every thing in the world. My +horse will carry me there and back in fifty minutes, easily, and five to +spare, I’ll be bound. I sha’n’t light--so where’s the paper? I’m off.” + +“Well--order your horse, and leave me the paper, at least, while he is +getting ready. Ride by this way, and you will find us here--where is +this famous paragraph?” + +Beaumont drew the paper crumpled from the pocket into which he had +thrust it--ran off for his horse, and quickly returned mounted. “Give me +the paper, good friends!--I’m off.” + +“Away, then, my dear; since you will heat yourself for nothing. But only +let me point out to you,” said she, holding the paper fast whilst +she held it up to him, “that this whole report rests on no authority +whatever; not a word of it in the gazette; not a line from the +admiralty; no official account; no bulletin; no credit given to the +rumour at Lloyd’s; stocks the same.--And how did the news come? Not +even the news-writer pretends it came through any the least respectable +channel. A frigate in latitude the Lord knows what! saw a fleet in a +fog--might be Spanish--might be French--might be English--spoke another +frigate some days afterwards, who heard firing: well--firing says +nothing. But the frigate turns this firing into an engagement, and +a victory; and presently communicates the news to a collier, and the +collier tells another collier, and so it goes up the Thames, to some +wonder-maker, standing agape for a paragraph, to secure a dinner. To the +press the news goes, just as our paper is coming out; and to be sure we +shall have a contradiction and an apology in our next.” + +“Well, ma’am; but I will ask Mr. Walsingham what he thinks, and show him +the paper.” + +“Do, if you like it, my dear; I never control you; but don’t overheat +yourself for nothing. What can Mr. Walsingham, or all the Walsinghams in +the world, tell more than we can? and as to showing him the paper, you +know he takes the same paper. But don’t let me detain you.--Amelia, who +is that coming through the gate? Mr. Palmer’s servant, I protest!” + +“Well; it can’t be, I see!” said Beaumont, dismounting. + +“Take away your master’s horse--quick--quick!--Amelia, my love, to +dress! I must have you ready to receive your godfather’s blessing. +Consider, Mr. Palmer was your father’s earliest friend; and besides, he +is a relation, though distant; and it is always a good and prudent thing +to keep up relationships. Many a fine estate has come from very +distant relations most unexpectedly. And even independently of all +relationships, when friendships are properly cultivated, there’s no +knowing to what they may lead;--not that I look to any thing of that +sort here. But before you see Mr. Palmer, just as we are walking home, +and quite to ourselves, let me give you some leading hints about this +old gentleman’s character, which I have gathered, no matter how, for +your advantage, my dear children. He is a humourist, and must not +be opposed in any of his oddities: he is used to be waited upon, and +attended to, as all these men are who have lived in the West Indies. A +_bon vivant_, of course. Edward, produce your best wines--the pilau and +currie, and all that, leave to me. I had special notice of his love for +a john-doree, and a john-doree I have for him. But now I am going to +give you the master-key to his heart. Like all men who have made +great fortunes, he loves to feel continually the importance his wealth +confers; he loves to feel that wealth does every thing; is superior to +every thing--to birth and titles especially: it is his pride to think +himself, though a commoner, far above any man who condescends to take a +title. He hates persons of quality; therefore, whilst he is here, not +a word in favour of any titled person. Forget the whole house of +peers--send them all to Coventry--all to Coventry, remember.--And, now +you have the key to his heart, go and dress, to be ready for him.” + +Having thus given her private instructions, and advanced her secret +plans, Mrs. Beaumont repaired to her toilet, well satisfied with her +morning’s work. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +“Chi mi fa piu carezze che non sole; O m’ha ingannato, o ingannar me +vuole.” + + +“By St. George, there’s nothing like Old England for comfort!” cried Mr. +Palmer, settling himself in his arm-chair in the evening; “nothing after +all in any part of the known world, like Old England for comfort. Why, +madam, there’s not another people in the universe that have in any of +their languages a name even for comfort. The French have been forced to +borrow it; but now they have got it, they don’t know how to use it, nor +even how to pronounce it, poor devils! Well, there’s nothing like Old +England for comfort.” + +“Ah! nothing like Old England for comfort!” echoed Mrs. Beaumont, in a +sentimental tone, though at that instant her thoughts were far distant +from her words; for this declaration of his love for Old England alarmed +her with the notion that he might change his mind about returning +immediately to Jamaica, and that he might take root again and flourish +for years to come in his native soil--perhaps in her neighbourhood, to +the bane of all her favourite projects. What would become of her scheme +of marrying Amelia to the baronet, and her son to the docile Albina? +What would become of the scheme of preventing him from being acquainted +with the Walsinghams? For a week it might be practicable to keep them +asunder by _policising_, but this could never be effected if he were to +settle, or even to make any long stay, in the country. The Walsinghams +would be affronted, and then what would become of their interest in the +county? Her son could not be returned without that. And, worse than all +the rest, Mr. Palmer might take a fancy to see these Walsinghams, who +were as nearly related to him as the Beaumonts; and seeing, he might +prefer, and preferring, he might possibly leave half, nay, perhaps +the whole, of his large fortune to them,--and thus all her hopes and +projects might at once be frustrated. Little aware of the long and +perplexing trains of ideas, which his honest ejaculation in favour +of his native country had raised, Mr. Palmer went on with his own +comfortable thoughts. + +“And of all the comforts our native land affords, I know of none so +grateful to the heart,” continued he, “as good friends, which are to be +found nowhere else in such perfection. A man at my time of life misses +many an old friend on his return to his native country; but then he +sees them still in their representatives, and loves them again in +their children. Mr. Beaumont looked at me at that instant, so like his +father--he is the image of what my friend was, when I first knew him.” + +“I am rejoiced you see the likeness,” said Mrs. Beaumont. “Amelia, my +dear, pour out the coffee.” + +“And Miss Beaumont, too, has just his expression of countenance, which +surprises me more, in her delicate features. Upon my word, I have reason +to be proud of my god-daughter, as far as appearances go; and with +English women, appearances, fair as they may be, seldom are even so good +as the truth. There’s her father’s smile again for me--young lady, if +that smile deceives, there’s no truth in woman.” + +“Do not you find our coffee here very bad, compared with what you have +been used to abroad?” said Mrs. Beaumont. + +“I do rejoice to find myself here quiet in the country,” continued Mr. +Palmer, without hearing the lady’s question; “nothing after all like +a good old English family, where every thing speaks plenty and +hospitality, without waste or ostentation; and where you are received +with a hearty welcome, without compliments; and let do just as you +please, without form, and without being persecuted by politeness.” + +This was the image of an English country family impressed early upon +the good old gentleman’s imagination, which had remained there fresh and +unchanged since the days of his youth; and he now took it for granted +that he should see it realized in the family of his late friend. + +“I was afraid,” resumed Mrs. Beaumont, “that after being so long +accustomed to a West-Indian life, you would find many things unpleasant +to your feelings here. But you are so kind, so accommodating. Is +it really possible that you have not, since your return to England, +experienced any uncomfortable sensations, suffered any serious injury to +your health, my dear sir, from the damps and chills of our climate?” + +“Why, now I think of it, I have--I have a cough,” said Mr. Palmer, +coughing. + +Mrs. Beaumont officiously shut the window. + +“I do acknowledge that England is not quite so superior to all other +countries in her climate as in every thing else: yet I don’t ‘damn the +climate like a lord.’ At my time of life, a man must expect to be a +valetudinarian, and it would be unjust to blame one’s native climate +for that. But a man of seventy-five must live where he can, not where +he will; and Dr. Y---- tells me that I can live nowhere but in the West +Indies.” + +“Oh, sir, never mind Dr. Y----,” exclaimed young Beaumont: “live with us +in England. Many Englishmen live to a great age surely, let people say +what they will of the climate.” + +“But, perhaps, brother,” interposed Amelia, “those who, like Mr. Palmer, +have lived much in a warm climate, might find a return to a cold country +dangerous; and we should consider what is best for him, not merely what +is most agreeable to ourselves.” + +“True, my dearest Amelia,” said Mrs. Beaumont; “and to be sure, Dr. +Y---- is one of our most skilful physicians. I could not be so rash +or so selfish as to set my private wishes, or my private opinion, in +opposition to Dr. Y----‘s advice; but surely, my dear sir, you won’t let +one physician, however eminent, send you away from us all, and banish +you again from England? We have a very clever physician here, Dr. +Wheeler, in whom I have the greatest confidence. In my own case, I +confess, I should prefer his judgment to any of the London fashionable +physicians, who are so fine and so hurried, that they can’t take time +to study one’s particular constitution, and hear all one has to say to +them. Now that is Wheeler’s great excellence--and I should so like to +hear his opinion. I am sure, if he gives it against me, I will not say +a word more: if he decide for Jamaica, I may be vexed, but I should make +it a point of conscience to submit, and not to urge my good friend to +stay in England at his own peril. Happy they who can live where they +please, and whose fortune puts it in their power to purchase any +climate, and to combine the comforts and luxuries of all countries!” + +Nothing more was said upon the subject: Mrs. Beaumont turned the +conversation to the different luxuries of the West and East Indies. Mr. +Palmer, fatigued by his journey, retired early to rest, little dreaming +that his kind hostess waked, whilst he slept, for the purpose of +preparing a physician to give a proper opinion upon his case. Mrs. +Beaumont left a note to her favourite Dr. Wheeler, to be sent very early +in the morning. As if by accident, the doctor dropped in at breakfast +time, and Mrs. Beaumont declared that it was the luckiest chance +imaginable, that he should happen to call just when she was wishing +to see him. When the question in debate was stated to him, he, with +becoming gravity of countenance and suavity of manner, entered into a +discussion upon the effect of hot and cold climates upon the solids and +fluids, and nervous system in general; then upon English constitutions +in particular; and, lastly, upon _idiosyncrasies_. + +This last word cost Mr. Palmer half his breakfast: on hearing it he +turned down his cup with a profound sigh, and pushed his plate from him; +indications which did not escape the physician’s demure eye. Gaining +confidence from the weakness of the patient, Dr. Wheeler now boldly +pronounced, that, in his opinion, any gentleman who, after having +habituated himself long to a hot climate, as Jamaica, for instance, +should come late in life to reside in a colder climate, as England, for +example, must run very great hazard indeed--nay, he could almost venture +to predict, would fall a victim to the sudden tension of the lax fibres. + +Though a man of sound good sense in most things, Mr. Palmer’s weakness +was, on medical subjects, as great as his ignorance; his superstitious +faith in physicians was as implicit as either Dr. Wheeler or Mrs. +Beaumont could desire. + +“Then,” said Mr. Palmer, with a sigh still deeper than the first--for +the first was for himself, and the second for his country--“then +England, Old England! farewell for ever! All my judges pronounce +sentence of transportation upon me!” + +Mr. Beaumont and Amelia, in eager and persuasive tones of remonstrance +and expostulation, at once addressed the doctor, to obtain a mitigation +or suspension of his sentence. Dr. Wheeler, albeit unused to the +imperative mood, reiterated his _dictum_. Though little accustomed to +hold his opinion against the arguments or the wishes of the rich and +fair, he, upon this occasion, stood his ground against Miss and Mr. +Beaumont wonderfully well for nearly five minutes; till, to his +utter perplexity and dismay, he saw Mrs. Beaumont appear amongst his +assailants. + +“Well, I said I would submit, and not say a word, if Dr. Wheeler was +against me,” she began; “but I cannot sit by silent: I must protest +against this cruel, cruel decree, so contrary too to what I hoped and +expected would be Dr. Wheeler’s opinion.” + +Poor Dr. Wheeler twinkled and seemed as if he would have rubbed his +eyes, not sure whether he was awake or in a dream. In his perplexity, he +apprehended that he had misunderstood Mrs. Beaumont’s note, and he now +prepared to make his way round again through the solids and the fluids, +and the whole nervous system, till, by favour of _idiosyncrasy_, he +hoped to get out of his difficulty, and to allow Mr. Palmer to remain +on British ground. Mrs. Beaumont’s face, in spite of her powers of +simulation, lengthened and lengthened, and darkened and darkened, as +he proceeded in his recantation; but, when the exception to the general +axiom was fairly made out, and a clear permit to remain in England +granted, by such high medical authority, she forced a smile, and joined +loudly in the general congratulations. Whilst her son was triumphing +and shaking hands with Mr. Palmer, she slipped down stairs after Dr. +Wheeler. + +“Ah, doctor! What have you done! Ruined me! ruined me! Didn’t you read +my note? Didn’t you _understand_ it?--I thought a word to the wise was +enough.” + +“Why!--then it was as I understood it at first? So I thought; but then +I fancied I must be mistaken afterwards; for when I expected support, my +dear madam, you opposed my opinion in favour of Jamaica more warmly than +any one, and what was I to think?” + +“To think! Oh, my dear doctor, you might have guessed that was only a +sham opposition.” + +“But, my dear ma’am,” cried Dr. Wheeler, who, though the mildest of men, +was now worked up to something like indignation, “my dear ma’am--sham +upon sham is too much for any man!” + +The doctor went down stairs murmuring. Thus, by excess of hypocrisy, our +heroine disgusted even her own adherents, in which she has the honour +to resemble some of the most wily politicians famous in English history. +But she was too wise ever to let any one who could serve or injure her +go discontented out of her presence. + +“My dear, good Dr. Wheeler, I never saw you angry before. Come, come,” + cried Mrs. Beaumont, sliding a _douceur_ into his hand, “friends must +not be vexed for trifles; it was only a mistake _de part et d’autre_, +and you’ll return here to-morrow, in your way home, and breakfast with +us; and now we understand one another. And,” added she, in a whisper, +“we can talk over things, and have your cool judgment best, when only +you, and I, and Mr. Palmer, are present. You comprehend.” + +Those who practise many manoeuvres, and carry on many intrigues at +the same time, have this advantage, that if one fails, the success of +another compensates for the disappointment. However she might have been +vexed by this slight _contre-temps_ with Dr. Wheeler, Mrs. Beaumont +had ample compensation of different sorts this day; some due to her own +exertions, some owing to accident. Her own exertions prevented her dear +Albina Hunter from returning; for Mrs. Beaumont never sent the promised +carriage--only a note of apology--a nail had run into one of the +coach-horse’s feet. To accident she owed that the Walsinghams were not +at home when her son galloped over to see them the next morning, and to +inquire what news from Captain Walsingham. That day’s paper also brought +a contradiction of the report of the engagement and victory; so that +Mrs. Beaumont’s apprehensions on this subject were allayed; and she had +no doubt that, by proper management, with a sufficient number of notes +and messages, misunderstandings, lame horses, and crossings upon the +road, she might actually get through the week without letting the +Walsinghams see Mr. Palmer; or at least without more than a _vis_, or +a morning visit, from which no great danger could be apprehended. “Few, +indeed, have so much character,” thought she, “or so much dexterity in +showing it, as to make a dangerous impression in the course of a formal +morning visit.” + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +“Ah! c’est mentir tant soit peu; j’en conviens; C’est un grand mal--mais +il produit un bien.” VOLTAIRE. + + +The third day went off still more successfully. Dr. Wheeler called at +breakfast, frightened Mr. Palmer out of his senses about his health, and +convinced him that his life depended upon his immediate return to the +climate of Jamaica:--so this point was decided. + +Mrs. Beaumont, calculating justly that the Walsinghams would return +Mr. Beaumont’s visit, and come to pay their respects to Mr. Palmer this +morning, settled, as soon as breakfast was over, a plan of operations +which should keep Mr. Palmer out till dinner-time. He must see the +charming drive which her son had made round his improvements; and she +must have the pleasure of showing it to him herself; and she assured him +that he might trust to her driving. + +So into Mrs. Beaumont’s garden-chair he got; and when she had him +fairly prisoner, she carried him far away from all danger of intruding +visitors. It may readily be supposed that our heroine made good use of +the five or six hours’ leisure for manoeuvring which she thus secured. + +So frank and cordial was this simple-hearted old man, any one but Mrs. +Beaumont would have thought that with him no manoeuvring was necessary; +that she need only to have trusted to his friendship and generosity, and +have directly told him her wishes. He was so prepossessed in her favour, +as being the widow of his friend, that he was almost incapable of +suspecting her of any unhandsome conduct; besides, having had little +converse with modern ladies, his imagination was so prepossessed with +the old-fashioned picture of a respectable widow lady and guardian +mother, that he took it for granted Mrs. Beaumont was just like one of +the good matrons of former times, like Lady Bountiful, or Lady Lizard; +and, as such, he spoke to her of her family concerns, in all the +openness of a heart which knew no guile. + +“Now, my good Mistress Beaumont, you must look upon me just as my friend +the colonel would have done; as a man, who has your family interests at +heart just as much as if I were one of yourselves. And let me in to all +your little affairs, and trust me with all your little plans, and let +us talk over things together, and settle how every thing can be done +for the best for the young people. You know, I have no relations in the +world but your family and the Walsinghams, of whom, by-the-bye, I know +nothing. No one living has any claim upon me: I can leave or give my +own just as I please; and you and yours are, of course, my first +objects--and for the how, and the what, and the when, I must consult +you; and only beg you to keep it in mind, that I would as soon _give_ as +_bequeath_, and rather; for as to what a man leaves to his friends, he +can only have the satisfaction of thinking that they will be the better +for him after he is dead and gone, which is but cold comfort; but what +he gives he has the warm comfort of seeing them enjoy whilst he is alive +with them.” + +“Such a generous sentiment!” exclaimed Mrs. Beaumont, “and so unlike +persons in general who have large fortunes at their disposal! I feel so +much obliged, so excessively--” + +“Not at all, not at all, not at all--no more of that, no more of +that, my good lady. The colonel and I were friends; so there can be no +obligation between us, nor thanks, nor speeches. But, just as if you +were talking to yourself, tell me your mind. And if there are any little +embarrassments that the son may want to clear off on coming of age; +or if there’s any thing wanting to your jointure, my dear madam; or if +there should be any marriages in the wind, where a few thousands, more +or less, might be the making or the breaking of a heart;--let me hear +about it all: and do me the justice to let me have the pleasure of +making the young folks, and the old folks too, happy their own way; for +I have no notion of insisting on all people being happy my way--no, no! +I’ve too much English liberty in me for that; and I’m sure, you, my +good lady, are as great a foe as I am to all family managements and +mysteries, where the old don’t know what the young do, nor the young +what the old think. No, no--that’s all nonsense and French convent +work--nothing like a good old English family. So, my dear Mistress +Beaumont, out with it all, and make me one of yourselves, free of the +family from this minute. Here’s my hand and heart upon it--an old friend +may presume so far.” + +This frankness would have opened any heart except Mrs. Beaumont’s; but +it is the misfortune of artful people that they cannot believe others +to be artless: either they think simplicity of character folly; or else +they suspect that openness is only affected, as a bait to draw them into +snares. Our heroine balanced for a moment between these two notions. She +could not believe Mr. Palmer to be an absolute fool--no; his having +made such a large fortune forbad that thought. Then he must have thrown +himself thus open merely to _try her_, and to come at the knowledge of +debts and embarrassments, which, if brought to light, would lower his +opinion of the prudence of the family. + +“My excellent friend, to be candid with you,” she began, “there is +no need of your generosity at present, to relieve my son from any +embarrassments; for I know that he has no debts whatever. And I am +confident he will make my jointure every thing, and more than every +thing, I could desire. And, as to marriages, my Amelia is so young, +there’s time enough to consider.” + +“True, true; and she does well to take time to consider. But though I +don’t understand these matters much, she looks mightily like the notion +I have of a girl that’s a little bit in love.” + +“In love! Oh, my dear sir! you don’t say so--in love?” + +“Why, I suppose I should not say _in love_; there’s some other way of +expressing it come into fashion since my time, no doubt. And even then, +I know that was not to be said of a young lady, till signing and sealing +day; but it popped out, and I can’t get it back again, so you must even +let it pass. And what harm? for you know, madam, without love, what +would become of the world?--though I was jilted once and away, I +acknowledge--but forgive and forget. I don’t like the girl a whit the +worse for being a little bit tender-hearted. For I’m morally certain, +even from the little I have heard her say, and from the way she has been +brought up, and from her being her father’s daughter, and her mother’s, +madam, she could not fix her affections on any one that would not do +honour to her choice, or--which is only saying the same thing in other +words--that you and I should not approve.” + +“Ah! there’s the thing!” said Mrs. Beaumont, sighing. + +“Why now I took it into my head from a blush I saw this morning, though +how I came to notice it, I don’t know; for to my recollection I have not +noticed a girl’s blushing before these twenty years--but, to be +sure, here I have as near an interest, almost, as if she were my own +daughter--I say, from the blush I saw this morning, when young Beaumont +was talking of the gallop he had taken to inquire about Captain +Walsingham, I took it into my head that he was the happy man.” + +“Oh! my dear sir, he never made any proposals for Amelia.” That was +strictly true. “Nor, I am sure, ever thought of it, as far as ever I +heard.” + +The saving clause of “_as far as ever I heard_,” prevented this last +assertion from coming under that description of falsehoods denominated +downright lies. + +“Indeed, how could he?” pursued Mrs. Beaumont, “for you know he is no +match for Amelia; he has nothing in the world but his commission. No; +there never was any proposal from that quarter; and, of course, it is +impossible my daughter could think of a man who has no thoughts of her.” + +“You know best, my good madam; I merely spoke at random. I’m the worst +guesser in the world, especially on these matters: what people tell me, +I know; and neither more not less.” + +Mrs. Beaumont rejoiced in the simplicity of her companion. “Then, my +good friend, it is but fair to tell you,” said she, “that Amelia has an +admirer.” + +“A lover, hey! Who?” + +“Ah, there’s the misfortune; it is a thing I never can consent to.” + +“Ha! then now it is out! There’s the reason the girl blushes, and is so +absent at times.” + +A plan now occurred to Mrs. Beaumont’s scheming imagination which +she thought the master-piece of policy. She determined to account for +whatever symptoms of embarrassment Mr. Palmer might observe in her +daughter, by attributing them to a thwarted attachment for Sir John +Hunter; and Mrs. Beaumont resolved to make a merit to Mr. Palmer of +opposing this match because the lover was a baronet, and she thought +that Mr. Palmer would be pleased by her showing an aversion to the +thoughts of her daughter’s marrying _a sprig of quality_. This ingenious +method of paying her court to her open-hearted friend, at the expense +equally of truth and of her daughter, she executed with her usual +address. + +“Well, I’m heartily glad, my dear good madam, to find that you have the +same prejudices against sprigs of quality that I have. One good commoner +is worth a million of them to my mind. So I told a puppy of a nephew of +mine, who would go and buy a baronetage, forsooth--disinherited him! but +he is dead, poor puppy.” + +“Poor young man! But this is all new to me,” said Mrs. Beaumont, with +well-feigned surprise. + +“But did not you know, my dear madam, that I had a nephew, and that he +is dead?” + +“Oh, yes; but not the particulars.” + +“No; the particulars I never talk of--not to the poor dog’s credit. It’s +well he’s dead, for if he had lived, I am afraid I should have forgiven +him. No, no, I never would. But there is no use in thinking any more +of that. What were we saying? Oh, about your Amelia--our Amelia, let me +call her. If she is so much attached, poor thing, to this man, though +he is a baronet, which I own is against him to my fancy, yet it is to +be presumed he has good qualities to balance that, since she values +him; and young people must be young, and have their little foolish +prepossessions for title, and so forth. To be sure, I should have +thought my friend’s daughter above that, of such a good family as she +is, and with such good sense as she inherits too. But we have all our +foibles, I suppose. And since it is so with Amelia, why do let me see +this baronet-swain of hers, and let me try what good I can find out in +him, and let me bring myself, if I can, over my prejudices. And then +you, my dear madam, so good and kind a mother as you are, will make an +effort too on your part; for we must see the girl happy, if it is not +out of all sense and reason. And if the man be worthy of her, it is not +his fault that he is a sprig of quality; and we must forgive and forget, +and give our consent, my dear Mrs. Beaumont.” + +“And would you ever give your consent to her marrying Sir John Hunter?” + cried Mrs. Beaumont, breathless with amazement, and for a moment thrown +off her guard so as to speak quite naturally. The sudden difference +in her tone and manner struck even her unsuspicious companion, and he +attributed it to displeasure at this last hint. + +“Why, my very dear good friend’s wife, forgive me,” said he, “for this +interference, and for, as it seems, opposing your opinion about your +daughter’s marriage, which no man has a right to do--but if you ask +me plump whether I could forgive her for marrying Sir John Hunter, +I answer, for I can speak nothing but the truth, I would, if he is a +worthy man.” + +“I thought,” said Mrs. Beaumont, astonished, “you disinherited your own +nephew, because he took a baronet’s title against your will.” + +“Bless you! no, my dear madam--that did displease me, to be sure--but +that was the least cause of displeasure I had. I let the world fancy +and say what they would, rather than bring faults to light.--But no more +about that.” + +“But did not you take an oath that you would never leave a shilling of +your fortune to any _sprig of quality?_” + +“Never! my dearest madam! never,” cried Mr. Palmer, laughing. “Never was +such a gander. See what oaths people put into one’s mouth.” + +“And what lies the world tells,” said Mrs. Beaumont. + +“And believes,” said Mr. Palmer, with a sly smile. + +The surprise that Mrs. Beaumont felt was mixed with a strange and rapid +confusion of other sentiments, regret for having wasted such a quantity +of contrivance and manoeuvring against an imaginary difficulty. All this +arose from her too easy belief of _secret underhand information_. + +Through the maze of artifice in which she had involved affairs, she now, +with some difficulty, perceived that plain truth would have served her +purpose better. But regret for the past was not in the least mixed with +any thing like remorse or penitence; on the contrary, she instantly +began to consider how she could best profit by her own wrong. She +thought she saw two of her favourite objects almost within her reach, +Mr. Palmer’s fortune, and the future title for her daughter: no obstacle +seemed likely to oppose the accomplishment of her wishes, except +Amelia’s own inclinations: these she thought she could readily prevail +upon her to give up; for she knew that her daughter was both of a +timid and of an affectionate temper; that she had never in any instance +withstood, or even disputed, her maternal authority; and that dread of +her displeasure had often proved sufficient to make Amelia suppress or +sacrifice her own feelings. Combining all these reflections with her +wonted rapidity, Mrs. Beaumont determined what her play should now be. +She saw, or thought she saw, that she ought, either by gentle or strong +means, to lure or intimidate Amelia to her purpose; and that, while +she carried on this part of the plot with her daughter in private, she +should appear to Mr. Palmer to yield to his persuasions by degrees, +to make the young people happy their own way, and to be persuaded +reluctantly out of her aversion to _sprigs of quality_. To be sure, it +would be necessary to give fresh explanations and instructions to Sir +John Hunter, through his sister, with the new parts that he and she were +to act in this domestic drama. As soon as Mrs. Beaumont returned from +her airing, therefore, she retired to her own apartment, and wrote +a note of explanation, with a proper proportion of sentiment and +_verbiage,_ to her dear Albina, begging to see her and Sir John Hunter +the very next day. The horse, which had been lamed by the nail, now, of +course, had recovered; and it was found by Mrs. Beaumont that she had +been misinformed, and that he had been lamed only by sudden cramp. Any +excuse she knew would be sufficient, in the present state of affairs, to +the young lady, who was more ready to be deceived than even our heroine +was disposed to deceive. Indeed, as Machiavel says, “as there are +people willing to cheat, there will always be those who are ready to be +cheated.” + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +“Vous m’enchantez, mais vous m’épouvantez; Ces pieges-là sont-ils bien +ajustés? Craignez vous point de vous laisser surprendre Dans les filets +que vos mains savent tendre?” VOLTAIRE. + + +To prepare Amelia to receive Sir John Hunter _properly_ was Mrs. +Beaumont’s next attempt; for as she had represented to Mr. Palmer that +her daughter was attached to Sir John, it was necessary that her manner +should in some degree accord with this representation, that at least it +should not exhibit any symptoms of disapprobation or dislike: whatever +coldness or reserve might appear, it would be easy to attribute to +bashfulness and dread of Mr. Palmer’s observation. When Amelia was +undressing at night, her mother went into her room; and, having +dismissed the maid, threw herself into an arm-chair, and exclaimed, +half-yawning, “How tired I am!--No wonder, such a long airing as we took +to-day. But, my dear Amelia, I could not sleep to-night without telling +you how glad I am to find that you are such a favourite with Mr. +Palmer.” + +“I am glad he likes me,” said Amelia; “I am sure I like him. What a +benevolent, excellent man he seems to be!” + +“Excellent, excellent--the best creature in the world!--And so +interested about you! and so anxious that you should be well and soon +established; almost as anxious about it as I am myself.” + +“He is very good--and you are very good, mamma; but there is no occasion +that I should be _soon established_, as it is called--is there?” + +“That is the regular answer, you know, in these cases, from every young +lady that ever was born, in or out of a book within the memory of man. +But we will suppose all that to be said prettily on your part, and +answered properly on mine: so give me leave to go on to something more +to the purpose; and don’t look so alarmed, my love. You know, I am not a +hurrying person; you shall take your own time, and every thing shall +be done as you like, and the whole shall be kept amongst ourselves +entirely; for nothing is so disadvantageous and distressing to a young +woman as to have these things talked of in the world long before they +take place.” + +“But, ma’am!--Surely there is no marriage determined upon for me, +without my even knowing it.” + +“Determined upon!--Oh dear, no, my darling. You shall decide every thing +for yourself.” + +“Thank you, mother; now you are kind indeed.” + +“Indubitably, my dearest Amelia, I would not decide on any thing without +consulting you: for I have the greatest dependence on your prudence and +judgment. With a silly romantic girl, who had no discretion, I should +certainly think it my duty to do otherwise; and if I saw my daughter +following headlong some idle fancy of fifteen, I should interpose my +authority at once, and say, It must not be. But I know my Amelia so +well, that I am confident she will judge as prudently for herself as I +could for her; and indeed, I am persuaded that our opinions will be now, +as they almost always are, my sweet girl, the same.” + +“I hope so mamma--but----” + +“Well, well, I’ll allow a maidenly _but_--and you will allow that Sir +John Hunter shall be the man at last.” + +“Oh, mamma, that can never be,” said Amelia, with much earnestness. + +“_Never_--A young lady’s _never_, Amelia, I will allow too. Don’t +interrupt me, my dear--but give me leave to tell you again, that +you shall have your own time--Mr. Palmer has given his consent and +approbation.” + +“Consent and approbation!” cried Amelia. “And is it come to this? +without even consulting me! And is this the way I am left to judge for +myself?--Oh, mother! mother! what will become of me?” + +Amelia, who had long had experience that it was vain for her to attempt +to counteract or oppose any scheme that her mother had planned, sat down +at this instant in despair: but even from despair she took courage; +and, rising suddenly, exclaimed, “I never can or will marry Sir John +Hunter--for I love another person--mother, you know I do--and I will +speak truth, and abide by it, let the consequences be what they may.” + +“Well, my dear, don’t speak so loud, at all events; for though it may +be very proper to speak the truth, it is not necessary that the whole +universe should hear it. You speak of another attachment--is it possible +that you allude to Captain Walsingham? But Captain Walsingham has never +proposed for you, nor even given you any reason to think he would; or if +he has, he must have deceived me in the grossest manner.” + +“He is incapable of deceiving any body,” said Amelia. “He never gave me +any reason to think he would propose for me; nor ever made the slightest +attempt to engage my affections. You saw his conduct: it was always +uniform. He is incapable of any double or underhand practices.” + +“In the warmth of your eulogium on Captain Walsingham, you seem, Amelia, +to forget that you reflect, in the most severe manner, upon yourself: +for what woman, what young woman especially, who has either delicacy, +pride, or prudence, can avow that she loves a man, who has never given, +even by her own statement of the matter, the slightest reason to believe +that he thinks of her?” + +Amelia stood abashed, and for some instants incapable of reply: but at +last, approaching her mother, and hiding her face, as she hung over +her shoulder, she said, in a low and timid voice, “It was only to my +mother--I thought that could not be wrong--and when it was to prevent a +greater wrong, the engaging myself to another person.” + +“Engaging yourself, my foolish child! but did I not tell you that you +should have your own time?” + +“But no time, mother, will do.” + +“Try, my dear love; that is all I ask of you; and this you cannot, in +duty, in kindness, in prudence, or with decency, refuse me.” + +“Cannot I?” + +“Indeed you cannot. So say not a word more that can lessen the high +opinion I have of you; but show me that you have a becoming sense +of your own and of female dignity, and that you are not the poor, +mean-spirited creature, to pine for a man who disdains you.” + +“Disdain! I never saw any disdain. On the contrary, though he never gave +me reason to think so, I cannot help fancying----” + +“That he likes you--and yet he never proposed for you! Do not believe +it--a man may coquet as well as a woman, and often more; but till he +makes his proposal, never, if you have any value for your own happiness +or dignity, fancy for a moment that he loves you.” + +“But he cannot marry, because he is so poor.” + +“True--and if so, what stronger argument can be brought against your +thinking of him?” + +“I do not think of him--I endeavour not to think of him.” + +“That is my own girl! Depend upon it, he thinks not of you. He is all in +his profession--prefers it to every woman upon earth. I have heard him +say he would not give it up for any consideration. All for glory, you +see; nothing for love.” + +Amelia sighed. Her mother rose, and kissing her, said, as if she took +every thing she wished for granted, “So, my Amelia, I am glad to see you +reasonable, and ready to show a spirit that becomes you--Sir John Hunter +breakfasts here to-morrow.” + +“But,” said Amelia, detaining her mother, who would have left the room, +“I cannot encourage Sir John Hunter, for I do not esteem him; therefore +I am sure I can never love him.” + +“You cannot encourage Sir John Hunter, Amelia?” replied Mrs. Beaumont. +“It is extraordinary that this should appear to you an impossibility the +very moment the gentleman proposes for you. It was not always so. Allow +me to remind you of a ball last year, where you and I met both Sir +John Hunter and Captain Walsingham; as I remember, you gave all your +attention that evening to Sir John.” + +“Oh, mother, I am ashamed of that evening--I regret it more than +any evening of my life. I did wrong, very wrong; and bitterly have I +suffered for it, as people always do, sooner or later, by deceit. I was +afraid that you should see my real feelings; and, to conceal them, I, +for the first and last time of my life, acted like a coquette. But if +you recollect, dear mother, the very next day I confessed the truth +to you. My friend, Miss Walsingham, urged me to have the courage to be +sincere.” + +“Miss Walsingham! On every occasion I find the secret influence of these +Walsinghams operating in my family,” cried Mrs. Beaumont, from a sudden +impulse of anger, which threw her off her guard. + +“Surely their influence has always been beneficial to us all. To me, +Miss Walsingham’s friendship has been of the greatest service.” + +“Yes; by secretly encouraging you, against your mother’s approbation, in +a ridiculous passion for a man who neither can nor will marry you.” + +“Far from encouraging me, madam, in any thing contrary to your +wishes--and far from wishing to do any thing secretly, Miss Walsingham +never spoke to me on this subject but once; and that was to advise me +strongly not to conceal the truth from you, and not to make use of any +artifices or manoeuvres.” + +“Possibly, very possibly; but I presume you could conduct yourself +properly without Miss Walsingham’s interference or advice.” + +“I thought, mamma, you liked Miss Walsingham particularly, and that you +wished I should cultivate her friendship.” + +“Certainly; I admire Miss Walsingham extremely, and wish to be on the +best terms with the family; but I will never permit any one to interfere +between me and my children. We should have gone on better without +advisers.” + +“I am sure her advice and friendship have preserved me from many faults, +but never led me into any. I might, from timidity, and from fear of your +superior address and abilities, have become insincere and artful; but +she has given me strength of mind enough to bear the present evil, and +to dare at all hazards to speak the truth.” + +“But, my dearest Amelia,” said Mrs. Beaumont, softening her tone, “why +so warm? What object can your mother have but your good? Can any Miss +Walsingham, or any other friend upon earth, have your interest so much +at heart as I have? Why am I so anxious, if it is not from love to you?” + +Amelia was touched by her mother’s looks and words of affection, and +acknowledged that she had spoken with too much warmth. + +Mrs. Beaumont thought she could make advantage of this moment. + +“Then, my beloved child, if you are convinced of my affection for you, +show at least some confidence in me in return: show some disposition to +oblige me. Here is a match I approve; here is an establishment every way +suitable.” + +“But why, mamma, must I be married?” interrupted Amelia. “I will not +think, at least I will try not to think, of any one of whom you do not +approve; but I cannot marry any other man while I feel such a partiality +for--. So, dear mother, pray do not let Sir John Hunter come here any +more on my account. It is not necessary that I should marry.” + +“It is necessary, however,” said Mrs. Beaumont, withdrawing her hand +haughtily, and darting a look of contempt and anger upon her daughter, +“it is necessary, however, that I should be mistress in my own house, +and that I should invite here whomever I please. And it is necessary +that you should receive them without airs, and with politeness. On this, +observe, I insist, and will be obeyed.” + +Mrs. Beaumont would receive no reply, but left the room seemingly in +great displeasure: but even half her anger was affected, to intimidate +this gentle girl. + +Sir John Hunter and his sister arrived to breakfast. Mrs. Beaumont +played her part admirably; so that she seemed to Mr. Palmer only to +be enduring Sir John from consideration for her daughter, and from +compliance with Mr. Palmer’s own request that she would try what could +be done to make the young people happy; yet she, with infinite address, +_drew Sir John out_, and dexterously turned every thing he said into +what she thought would please Mr. Palmer, though all the time she seemed +to be misunderstanding or confuting him. Mr. Palmer’s attention, which +was generally fixed exclusively on one object at a time, had ample +occupation in studying Sir John, whom he examined, for Amelia’s sake, +with all the honest penetration which he possessed. Towards Amelia +herself he scarcely ever looked; for, without any refinement of +delicacy, he had sufficient feeling and sense to avoid what he thought +would embarrass a young lady. Amelia’s silence and reserve appeared +to him, therefore, as her politic mother had foreseen, just what was +natural and proper. He had been told that she was attached to Sir John +Hunter; and the idea of doubting the truth of what Mrs. Beaumont had +asserted could not enter his confiding mind. + +In the mean time, our heroine, to whom the conduct of a double intrigue +was by no means embarrassing, did not neglect the affairs of her dear +Albina: she had found time before breakfast, as she met Miss Hunter +getting out of her carriage, to make herself sure that her notes of +explanation had been understood; and she now, by a multitude of scarcely +perceptible inuendoes, and seemingly suppressed looks of pity, contrived +to carry on the representation she had made to her son of this damsel’s +helpless and lovelorn state. Indeed, the young lady appeared as much in +love as could have been desired for stage effect, and rather more than +was necessary for propriety. All Mrs. Beaumont’s art, therefore, was +exerted to throw a veil of becoming delicacy over what might have been +too glaring, by hiding half to improve the whole. Where there was +any want of management on the part of her young coadjutrix, she, with +exquisite skill, made advantage even of these errors by look? and sighs, +that implied almost as emphatically as words could have said to her +son--“You see what I told you is too true. The simple creature has not +art enough to conceal her passion. She is undone in the eyes of the +world, if you do not confirm what report has said.” + +This she left to work its natural effect upon the vanity of man. And in +the midst of these multiplied manoeuvres, Mrs. Beaumont sat with ease +and unconcern, sometimes talking to one, sometimes to another; so that +a stranger would have thought her a party uninterested in all that was +going forward, and might have wondered at her blindness or indifference. + +But, alas! notwithstanding her utmost art, she failed this day in +turning and twisting Sir John Hunter’s conversation and character so as +to make them agreeable to Mr. Palmer. This she knew by his retiring +at an early hour at night, as he sometimes did when company was not +agreeable to him. His age gave him this privilege. Mrs. Beaumont +followed, to inquire if he would not wish to _take something_ before he +went to rest. + +“By St. George, Madam Beaumont, you are right,” said Mr. Palmer, +“you are right, in not liking this baronet. I’m tired of him--sick of +him--can’t like him!--sorry for it, since Amelia likes him. But what can +a daughter of Colonel Beaumont find in this man to be pleased with? He +is a baronet, to be sure, but that is all. Tell me, my good madam, what +it is the girl likes in him?” + +Mrs. Beaumont could only answer by an equivocal smile, and a shrug, that +seemed to say--there’s no accounting for these things. + +“But, my dear madam,” pursued Mr. Palmer, “the man is neither handsome +nor young: he is old enough for her father, though he gives himself the +airs of a youngster; and his manners are--I can allow for +fashionable manners. But, madam, it is his character I don’t +like--selfish--cold--designing--not a generous thought, not a good +feeling about him. You are right, madam, quite right. In all his +conversation such meanness, and even in what he means for wit, such +a contempt of what is fair and honourable! Now that fellow does not +believe that such a thing as virtue or patriotism, honour or friendship, +exists. The jackanapes!--and as for love! why, madam, I’m convinced he +is no more in love with the girl than I am, nor so much, ma’am, nor half +so much!--does not feel her merit, does not value her accomplishments, +does not Madam! madam! he is thinking of nothing but himself, and her +fortune--fortune! fortune! fortune! that’s all. The man’s a miser. +Madam, they that know no better fancy that there are none but old +misers; but I can tell them there are young misers, and middle-aged +misers, and misers of all ages. They say such a man can’t be a +miser, because he is a spendthrift; but, madam, you know a man can be +both--yes, and that’s what many of your young men of fashion are, and +what, I’ll engage, this fellow is. And can Amelia like him? my poor +child! and does she think he loves her? my poor, poor child! how can she +be so blind? but love is always blind, they say. I’ve a great mind to +take her to task, and ask her, between ourselves, what it is she likes +in her baronet.” + +“Oh, my dear sir! she would sink to the centre of the earth if you were +to speak. For Heaven’s sake, don’t take her to task, foolish as she is; +besides, she would be so angry with me for telling you.” + +“Angry? the gipsy! Am not I her godfather and her guardian? though I +could not act, because I was abroad, yet her guardian I was left by +her father, and love her too as well as I should a daughter of her +father’s--and she to have secrets, and mysteries! that would be worse +than all the rest, for mysteries are what I abhor. Madam, wherever there +are secrets and mysteries in a family, take my word for it, there is +somethings wrong.” + +“True, my dear sir; but Amelia has no idea of mysteries or art. I only +meant that young girls, you know, will be ashamed on these occasions, +and we must make allowances. So do not speak to her, I conjure you.” + +“Well, madam, you are her mother, and must know best. I have only her +interest at heart: but I won’t speak to her, since it will so distress +her. But what shall be done about this lover? You are quite right about +him, and I have not a word more to say.” + +“But I declare I think you judge him too harshly. Though I am not +inclined to be his friend, yet I must do him the justice to say, he has +more good qualities than you allow, or rather than you have seen yet. He +is passionately fond of Amelia. Oh, there you’re wrong, quite wrong; he +is passionately in love, whatever he may pretend to the contrary.” + +“Pretend! and why should the puppy pretend not to be in love?” + +“Pride, pride and fashion. Young men are so governed by fashion, and so +afraid of ridicule. There’s a set of _fashionables_ now, with whom love +is a _bore, _you know.” + +“I know! no, indeed, I know no such thing,” said Mr. Palmer. “But this +I know, that I hate pretences of all sorts; and if the man is in love, I +should, for my part, like him the better for showing it.” + +“So he will, when you know him a little better. You are quite a +stranger, and he is bashful.” + +“Bashful! Never saw so confident a man in any country.” + +“But he is shy under all that.” + +“Under! But I don’t like characters where every thing is under something +different from what appears at top.” + +“Well, take a day or two more to study him. Though I am his enemy, I +must deal fairly by him, for poor Amelia’s sake.” + +“You are a good mother, madam, an indulgent mother, and I honour +and love you for it. I’ll follow your example, and bear with this +spendthrift-miser-coxcomb sprig of quality for a day or two more, and +try to like him, for Amelia’s sake. But, if he’s not worthy of her, he +sha’n’t have her, by St. George, he shall not--shall he, madam?” + +“Oh, no, no; good night, my good sir.” + +What the manoeuvres of the next day might have effected, and how far Sir +John Hunter profited by the new instructions which were given to him in +consequence of this conversation, can never be accurately ascertained, +because the whole united plan of operations was disturbed by a new and +unforeseen event. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +“Un volto senza senno, Un petto senza core, un cor senz’ alma, Un’ alma +senza fede.” GUARINI. + + +“Here’s glorious news of Captain Walsingham!” cried young Beaumont; “I +always knew he would distinguish himself if he had an opportunity; and, +thank God! he has had as fine an opportunity as heart could wish. Here, +mother! here, Mr. Palmer, is an account of it in this day’s paper! and +here is a letter from himself, which Mr. Walsingham has just sent me.” + +“Oh, give _me_ the letter,” cried Mrs. Beaumont, with affected +eagerness. + +“Let me have the paper, then,” cried Mr. Palmer. “Where are my +spectacles?” + +“Are there any letters for _me?_” said Sir John Hunter. “Did my +newspapers come? Albina, I desired that they should be forwarded here. +Mrs. Beaumont, can you tell me any thing of _my_ papers?” + +“Dear Amelia, how interesting your brother looks when he is pleased!” + Albina whispered, quite loud enough to be heard. + +“A most gallant action, by St. George!” exclaimed Mr. Palmer. “These are +the things that keep up the honour of the British navy, and the glory of +Britain.” + +“This Spanish ship that Captain Walsingham captured the day after the +engagement is likely to turn out a valuable prize, too,” said Mrs. +Beaumont. “I am vastly glad to find this by his letter, for the money +will be useful to him, he wanted it so much. He does not say how much +his share will come to, does he, Edward?” + +“No, ma’am: you see he writes in a great hurry, and he has only time, as +he says, to mention _the needful_.” + +“And is not the money _the needful?_” said Sir John Hunter, with a +splenetic smile. + +“With Walsingham it is only a secondary consideration,” replied +Beaumont; “honour is Captain Walsingham’s first object. I dare say he +has never yet calculated what his prize-money will be.” + +“Right, right!” reiterated Mr. Palmer; “then he is the right sort. Long +may it be before our naval officers think more of prize-money than +of glory! Long may it be before our honest tars turn into calculating +pirates!” + +“They never will or can whilst they have such officers as Captain +Walsingham,” said Beaumont. + +“By St. George, he seems to be a fine fellow, and you a warm friend,” + said Mr. Palmer. “Ay, ay, the colonel’s own son. But why have I never +seen any of these Walsinghams since I came to the country? Are they +ashamed of being related to me, because I am a merchant?” + +“More likely they are too proud to pay court to you because you are +so rich,” said Mr. Beaumont. “But they did come to see you, sir,--the +morning you were out so late, mother, you know.” + +“Oh, ay, true--how unfortunate!” + +“But have not we horses? have not we carriages? have not we legs?” said +Mr. Palmer. “I’ll go and see these Walsinghams to-morrow, please God I +live so long: for I am proud of my relationship to this young hero; +and I won’t be cast off by good people, let them be as proud as they +will--that’s their fault--but I will not stand on idle ceremony: so, my +good Mistress Beaumont, we will all go in a body, and storm their castle +to-morrow morning.” + +“An admirable plan! I like it of all things!” said Mrs. Beaumont. “How +few, even in youth, are so active and enthusiastic as our good friend! +But, my dear Mr. Palmer--” + +“But I wish I could see the captain himself. Is there any chance of his +coming home?” + +“Home! yes,” said Beaumont: “did you not read his letter, sir? here it +is; he will be at home directly. He says, ‘perhaps a few hours after +this letter reaches you, you’ll see me.’” + +“See him! Odds my life, I’m glad of it. And you, my little Amelia,” + said Mr. Palmer, tapping her shoulders as she stood with her back to him +reading the newspaper; “and you, my little silent one, not one word have +I heard from you all this time. Does not some spark of your father’s +spirit kindle within you on hearing of this heroic relation of ours?” + +“Luckily for the ladies, sir,” said Sir John Hunter, coming up, as he +thought, to the lady’s assistance--“luckily for young ladies, sir, they +are not called upon to be heroes; and it would be luckier still for +us men, if they never set themselves up for heroines--Ha! ha! ha! Miss +Beaumont,” continued he, “the shower is over; I’ll order the horses out, +that we may have our ride.” Sir John left the room, evidently pleased +with his own wit. + +“Amelia, my love,” said Mrs. Beaumont, who drew up also to give +assistance at this critical juncture, “go, this moment, and write a note +to your friend Miss Walsingham, to say that we shall all be with them +early to-morrow: I will send a servant directly, that we may be sure to +meet with them at home this time; you’ll find pen, ink, and paper in my +dressing-room, love.” + +Mrs. Beaumont drew Amelia’s arm within hers, and, dictating kindest +messages for the Walsinghams, led her out of the room. Having thus +successfully covered her daughter’s retreat, our skilful manoeuvrer +returned, all self-complacent, to the company. And next, to please +the warm-hearted Mr. Palmer, she seemed to sympathize in his patriotic +enthusiasm for the British navy: she pronounced a panegyric on the +_young hero,_ Captain Walsingham, which made the good old man rub his +hands with exultation, and which irradiated with joy the countenance of +her son. But, alas! Mrs. Beaumont’s endeavours to please, or rather to +dupe all parties, could not, even with her consummate address, always +succeed: though she had an excellent memory, and great presence of mind, +with peculiar quickness both of eye and ear, yet she could not always +register, arrange, and recollect all that was necessary for the various +parts she undertook to act. Scarcely had she finished her eulogium on +Captain Walsingham, when, to her dismay, she saw close behind her Sir +John Hunter, who had entered the room without her perceiving it. He +said not one word; but his clouded brow showed his suspicions, and his +extreme displeasure. + +“Mrs. Beaumont,” said he, after some minutes’ silence, “I find I +must have the honour of wishing you a good morning, for I have an +indispensable engagement at home to dinner to-day.” + +“I thought, Sir John, you and Amelia were going to ride?” + +“Ma’am, Miss Beaumont does not choose to ride--she told me, so this +instant as I passed her on the stairs. Oh! don’t disturb her, I beg--she +is writing to Miss Walsingham--I have the honour to wish you a good +morning, ma’am.” + +“Well, if you are determined to go, let me say three words to you in the +music-room, Sir John: though,” added she, in a whisper intended to be +heard by Mr. Palmer, “I know you do not look upon me as your friend, +yet depend upon it I shall treat you and all the world with perfect +candour.” + +Sir John, though sulky, could not avoid following the lady; and as soon +as she had shut all the doors and double-doors of the music-room, she +exclaimed, “It is always best to speak openly to one’s friends. Now, my +dear Sir John Hunter, how can you be so childish as to take ill of me +what I really was forced to say, for _your_ interest, about Captain +Walsingham, to Mr. Palmer? You know old Palmer is the oddest, most +self-willed man imaginable! humour and please him I must, the few days +he is with me. You know he goes on Tuesday--that’s decided--Dr. Wheeler +has seen him, has talked to him about his health, and it is absolutely +necessary that he should return to the West Indies. Then he is perfectly +determined to leave all he has to Amelia.” + +“Yes, ma’am; but how am I sure of being the better for that?” + interrupted Sir John, whose decided selfishness was a match for Mrs. +Beaumont’s address, because it went without scruple or ceremony straight +to his object; “for, ma’am, you can’t think I’m such a fool as not to +see that Mr. Palmer wishes me at the devil. Miss Beaumont gives me no +encouragement; and you, ma’am, I know, are too good a politician to +offend Mr. Palmer: so, if he declares in favour of this young _hero,_ +Captain Walsingham, I may quit the field.” + +“But you don’t consider that Mr. Palmer’s young hero has never made any +proposal for Amelia.” + +“Pshaw! ma’am--but I know, as well as you do, that he likes her, and +propose he will for her now that he has money.” + +“Granting that; you forget that all this takes time, and that Palmer +will be gone to the West Indies before they can bring out their +proposal; and as soon as he is gone, and has left his will, as he means +to do, with me, you and I have the game in our own hands. It is very +extraordinary to me that you do not seem to understand my play, though I +explained the whole to Albina; and I thought she had made you comprehend +the necessity for my _seeming,_ for this one week, to be less your +friend than I could wish, because of your title, and that odd whim of +Palmer, you know: but I am sure we understand one another now.” + +“Excuse me,” said the invincible Sir John: “I confess, Mrs. Beaumont, +you have so much more abilities, and _finesse_, and all that sort +of thing, than I have, that I cannot help being afraid of--of not +understanding the business rightly. In business there is nothing like +understanding one another, and going on sure grounds. There has been so +much going backwards and forwards, and explanations and manoeuvres, +that I am not clear how it is; nor do I feel secure even that I have the +honour of your approbation.” + +“What! not when I have assured you of it, Sir John, in the most +unequivocal manner?” + +It was singular that the only person to whom in this affair Mrs. +Beaumont spoke the real truth should not believe her. Sir John Hunter +continued obstinately suspicious and incredulous. He had just heard that +his uncle Wigram, his rich uncle Wigram, was taken ill, and not likely +to recover. This intelligence had also reached Mrs. Beaumont, and +she was anxious to secure the baronet and the Wigram fortune for her +daughter; but nothing she could say seemed to satisfy him that she was +not double-dealing. At last, to prove to him her sincerity, she gave +him what he required, and what alone, he said, could make his mind +easy, could bring him to make up his mind--_a written assurance_ of her +approbation of his addresses to Amelia. With this he was content; “for,” + said he, “what is written remains, and there can be no misunderstandings +in future, or changing of minds.” + +It was agreed between these confidential friends, that Sir John should +depart, _as it were_, displeased; and she begged that he would not +return till Mr. Palmer should have left the country. + +Now there was a numerous tribe of _hangers-on_, who were in the habit of +frequenting Beaumont Park, whom Mrs. Beaumont loved to see at her +house; because, besides making her feel her own importance, they were +frequently useful to carry on the subordinate parts of her perpetual +manoeuvres. Among these secondary personages who attended Mrs. Beaumont +abroad to increase her consequence in the eyes of common spectators, and +who at home filled the stage, and added to the bustle and effect, her +chief favourites were Mr. Twigg (the same gentleman who was deputed to +decide upon the belt or the screen) and Captain Lightbody. Mr. Twigg was +the most, elegant flatterer of the two, but Captain Lightbody was +the most assured, and upon the whole made his way the best. He was a +handsome man, had a good address, could tell a good story, sing a good +song, and _make things go off_ well, when there was company; so that he +was a prodigious assistance to the mistress of the house. Then he danced +with the young ladies when they had no other partners; he mounted guard +regularly beside the piano-forte, or the harp, when the ladies were +playing; and at dinner it was always the etiquette for him to sit beside +Miss Beaumont, or Miss Hunter, when the gentlemen guests were not such +as Mrs. Beaumont thought entitled to that honour, or such as she deemed +_safe_ companions. These arrangements imply that Captain Lightbody +thought himself in Mrs. Beaumont’s confidence: and so he was to a +certain degree, just enough to flatter him into doing her high or low +behests. Whenever she had a report to circulate, or to contradict, +Captain Lightbody was put in play; and no man could be better calculated +for this purpose, both from his love of talking, and of locomotion. He +galloped about from place to place, and from one great house to +another; knew all the lords and ladies, and generals and colonels, +and brigade-majors and aides-de-camp, in the land. Could any mortal +be better qualified to fetch and carry news for Mrs. Beaumont? +Besides news, it was his office to carry compliments, and to speed the +intercourse, not perhaps from soul to soul, but from house to house, +which is necessary in a visiting country to keep up the character of +an agreeable neighbour. Did Mrs. Beaumont forget to send a card of +invitation, or neglect to return a visit, Lightbody was to set it to +rights for her, Lightbody, the ready bearer of pretty notes, the maker +always, the fabricator sometimes, of the civilest speeches imaginable. +This expert speechifier, this ever idle, ever busy scamperer, our +heroine dispatched to engage a neighbouring family to pay her a morning +visit the next day, just about the time which was fixed for her going to +see the Walsinghams. The usual caution was given. “Pray, Lightbody, do +not let my name be used; do not let me be mentioned; but take it upon +yourself, and say, as if from yourself, that you have reason to believe +I take it ill that they have not been here lately. And then you can +mention the hour that would be most convenient. But let me have nothing +to do with it. I must not appear in it on any account.” + +In consequence of Captain Lightbody’s faithful execution of his secret +instructions, a barouche full of morning visitors drove to the door, +just at the time when Mrs. Beaumont had proposed to set out for +Walsingham House. Mrs. Beaumont, with a well-dissembled look of +vexation, exclaimed, as she looked out of the window at the carriage, +“How provoking! Who can these people be? I hope Martin will say I am not +at home. Ring--ring, Amelia. Oh, it’s too late, they have seen me! and +Martin, stupid creature! has let them in.” + +Mr. Palmer was much discomfited, and grew more and more impatient when +these troublesome visitors protracted their stay, and proposed a walk to +see some improvements in the grounds. + +“But, my good Mistress Beaumont,” said he, “you know we are engaged to +our cousin Walsingham this morning; and if you will give me leave, I +will go on before you with Mr. Beaumont, and we can say what detains +you.” + +Disconcerted by this simple determination of this straight-forward, +plain-spoken old gentleman, Mrs. Beaumont saw that farther delay on her +part would be not only inefficacious, but dangerous. She now was eager +to be relieved from the difficulties which she had herself contrived. +She would not, for any consideration, have trusted Mr. Palmer to pay +this visit without her: therefore, by an able counter-movement, she +extricated herself not only without loss, but with advantage, from this +perilous situation. She made a handsome apology to her visitors for +being obliged to run away from them. “She would leave Amelia to have the +pleasure of showing them the grounds.” + +Mrs. Beaumont was irresistible in her arrangements. Amelia, disappointed +and afraid to show how deeply she felt the disappointment, was obliged +to stay to do the honours of Beaumont Park, whilst her mother drove off +rejoicing in half the success, at least, of her stratagem; but even as +a politician she used upon every occasion too much artifice. It was said +of Cardinal Mazarin, he is a great politician, but in all his politics +there is one capital defect--“_C’est qu’il veut toujours tromper_.” + +“How tiresome those people were! I thought we never should have got +away from them,” said Mrs. Beaumont. “What possessed them to come this +morning, and to pay such a horrid long visit? Besides, those Duttons, at +all times, are the most stupid creatures upon the face of the earth; +I cannot endure them; so awkward and ill-bred too! and yet of a good +family--who could think it? They are people one must see, but they are +absolutely insufferable.” + +“Insufferable!” said Mr. Palmer; “why, my good madam, then you have the +patience of a martyr; for you suffered them so patiently, that I never +should have guessed you suffered at all. I protest I thought they were +friends and favourites of yours, and that you were very glad to see +them.” + +“Well, well, ‘tis the way of the world,” continued Mr. Palmer; “this +sort of--what do you call it? double-dealing about visitors, goes on +every where, Madam Beaumont. But how do I know, that when I go away, you +may not be as glad to get rid of me as you were to get away from these +Duttons?” added he, in a tone of forced jocularity. “How do I know, +but that the minute my back is turned, you may not begin to take me to +pieces in my turn, and say, ‘That old Palmer! he was the most tiresome, +humoursome, strange, old-fashioned fellow; I thought we should never +have got rid of him?” + +“My dear, dear sir, how can you speak in such a manner?” cried Mrs. +Beaumont, who had made several vain attempts to interrupt this speech. +“You, who are our best friend! is it possible you could suspect? Is +there no difference to be made between friends and common acquaintance?” + +“I am sure I hope there is,” said Mr. Palmer, smiling. + +There was something so near the truth in Mr. Palmer’s raillery, that +Mrs. Beaumont could not take it with as much easy unconcern as the +occasion required, especially in the presence of her son, who maintained +a provoking silence. Unhappy indeed are those, who cannot, in such +moments of distress, in their own families, and in their nearest +connexions, find any relief from their embarrassments, and who look +round in vain for one to be _responsible_ for their sincerity. Mrs. +Beaumont sat uneasy and almost disconcerted. Mr. Palmer felt for his +snuff-box, his usual consolation; but it was not in his pocket: he +had left it on his table. Now Mrs. Beaumont was relieved, for she had +something to do, and something to say with her wonted politeness: in +spite of all remonstrance from Mr. Palmer, her man Martin was sent back +for the snuff-box; and conjectures about his finding it, and his being +able to overtake them before they arrived at Walsingham house, supplied +conversation for a mile or two. + +“Here’s Martin coming back full gallop, I vow,” said Miss Hunter, who +could also talk on this topic. + +“Come, come, my good lady,” said Mr. Palmer, (taking the moment when the +young lady had turned her back as she stretched out of the carriage +for the pleasure of seeing Martin gallop)--“Come, come, my good Mrs. +Beaumont, shake hands and be friends, and hang the Duttons! I did not +mean to vex you by what I said. I am not so polite as I should be, I +know, and you perhaps are a little too polite. But that is no great +harm, especially in a woman.” + +Martin and the snuff-box came up at this instant; and all was apparently +as well as ever. Yet Mrs. Beaumont, who valued a reputation for +sincerity as much as Chartres valued a reputation for honesty, and +nearly upon the same principle, was seriously vexed that even this +transient light had been let in upon her real character. To such +_accidents_ duplicity is continually subject. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +“Led by Simplicity divine, She pleased, and never tried to shine; She +gave to chance each unschool’d feature, And left her cause to sense and +nature.”--MORE. + + +Arrived at Walsingham Park, they met Miss Walsingham walking at some +distance from the house. + +“Is Captain Walsingham come?” was the first question asked. “No, but +expected every hour.” + +That he had not actually arrived was a comfortable reprieve to Mrs. +Beaumont. Breathing more freely, and in refreshed spirits, she prepared +to alight from her carriage, to walk to the house with Miss Walsingham, +as Mr. Palmer proposed. Miss Hunter, who was dressed with uncommon +elegance, remonstrated in favour of her delicate slippers: not that she +named the real object of her solicitude--no; she had not spent so much +time with Mrs. Beaumont, that great mistress of the art of apologizing, +without learning at least the inferior practices of the trade. Of course +she had all the little common arts of excuse ever ready: and instead of +saying that she did not like to walk because she was afraid to spoil her +shoes, she protested she was afraid of the heat, and could not walk so +far. But Mr. Beaumont had jumped out of the carriage, and Mrs. +Beaumont did not wish that he should walk home _tête-à-tête_ with Miss +Walsingham; therefore Miss Hunter’s remonstrances were of no avail. + +“My love, you, will not be heated, for our walk is through this charming +shady grove; and if you are tired, here’s my son will give you his arm.” + +Satisfied with this arrangement, the young lady, thus supported, found +it possible to walk. Mr. Palmer walked his own pace, looking round at +the beauties of the place, and desiring that nobody might mind him. This +was his way, and Mrs. Beaumont never teased him with talking to him, +when he did not seem to be in the humour for it. She, who made something +of every thing, began to manage the conversation with her other +companions during the walk, so as to favour her views upon the several +parties. Pursuing her principle, that love is in men’s minds generally +independent of esteem, and believing that her son might be rendered +afraid of the superiority of Miss Walsingham’s understanding, Mrs. +Beaumont took treacherous pains to _draw her out_. Starting from chance +seemingly, as she well knew how, a subject of debate, she went from +talking of the late marriage of some neighbouring couple, to discuss +a question on which she believed that Miss Walsingham’s opinion would +differ from that of her son. The point was, whether a wife should +or should not have pin-money. Miss Walsingham thought that a wife’s +accepting it would tend to establish a separate interest between married +people. Mr. Beaumont, on the contrary, was of opinion, that a wife’s +having a separate allowance would prevent disputes. So Miss Hunter +thought, of course, for she had been prepared to be precisely of Mr. +Beaumont’s opinion; but reasons she had none in its support. Indeed, she +said with a pretty simper, she thought that women had nothing to do +with reason or reasoning; that she thought a woman who really loved _any +body_ was always of that person’s opinion; and especially in a wife she +did not see of what use reasoning and _all that_ could be, except to +make a woman contradict, and be odd, and fond of ruling: that for her +part she had no pretensions to any understanding, and if she had ever so +much, she should be glad, she declared upon her honour, to get rid of it +if she could; for what use could it possibly be of to her, when it must +be the husband’s understanding that must always judge and rule, and a +wife ought only to obey, and be always of the opinion of the man of her +choice?--Having thus made her profession of folly in broken sentences, +with pretty confusion and all-becoming graces, she leaned upon Mr. +Beaumont’s arm with a bewitching air of languid delicacy, that solicited +support. Mrs. Beaumont, suppressing a sigh, which, however, she took +care that her son should hear, turned to Miss Walsingham, and, in a +whisper, owned that she could not help loving abilities, and spirit too, +even in her own sex. Then she observed aloud, that much might be urged +on her side of the question with regard to pin-money; for not only, as +Miss Walsingham justly said, it might tend to make a separate interest +between husband and wife, but the wife would probably be kept in total +ignorance of her husband’s affairs; and _that_ in some cases might +be very disadvantageous, as some women are more capable, from their +superior understanding, of managing every thing than most men, indeed, +than any man she could name. + +Even under favour of this pretty compliment, which was plainly directed +by a glance of Mrs. Beaumont’s eye, Miss Walsingham would not accept of +this painful pre-eminence. She explained and made it clear, that she had +not any ambition to rule or manage. + +“That I can readily believe,” said Mr. Beaumont; “for I have observed, +that it is not always the women who are the most able to decide who are +the most ambitious to govern.” + +This observation either was not heard or was not understood by Miss +Hunter, whose whole soul was occupied in settling some fold of her +drapery: but Mr. Beaumont’s speech had its full effect on Mrs. Beaumont, +who bit her lip, and looked reproachfully at her son, as if she thought +this an infringement of his promised truce. A moment afterwards she felt +the imprudence of her own reproachful look, and was sensible that she +would have done better not to have fixed the opinion or feeling in her +son’s mind by noticing it thus with displeasure. Recovering, herself, +for she never was disconcerted for more than half a minute, she passed +on with easy grace to discuss the merits of the heroine of some new +novel--an historic novel, which gave her opportunity of appealing to +Miss Walsingham on some disputed points of history. She dexterously +attempted to draw her _well-informed_ young friend into a display of +literature which might alarm Mr. Beaumont. His education had in some +respects been shamefully neglected; for his mother had calculated that +ignorance would ensure dependence. He had endeavoured to supply, at a +late period of his education, the defects of its commencement; but he +was sensible that he had not supplied all his deficiencies, and he +was apt to feel, with painful impatient sensibility, his inferiority, +whenever literary subjects were introduced. Miss Walsingham, however, +was so perfectly free from all the affectation and vanity of a +bel-esprit, that she did not alarm even those who were inferior to her +in knowledge; their self-complacency, instead of being depressed by the +comparison of their attainments with hers, was insensibly raised, by the +perception that notwithstanding these, she could take pleasure in +their conversation, could appreciate their good sense or originality of +thought, without recurring to the authority of books, or of great names. +In fact, her mind had never been overwhelmed by a wasteful torrent of +learning. That the stream of literature had passed over, it was apparent +only from its fertility. Mrs. Beaumont repented of having drawn her +into conversation. Indeed, our heroine had trusted too much to some +expressions, which had at times dropped from her son, about _learned +ladies_, and certain _conversaziones_. She had concluded that he would +never endure literature in a wife; but she now perceived her mistake. +She discerned it too late; and at this moment she was doubly vexed, for +she saw Miss Hunter _produce_ herself in most disadvantageous contrast +to her rival. In conformity to instructions, which Mrs. Beaumont had +secretly given her, not to show too much sense or learning, because +gentlemen in general, and in particular Mr. Beaumont, disliked it; this +young lady now professed absolute ignorance and incapacity upon all +subjects; and meaning to have an air of pretty childish innocence or +timidity, really made herself appear quite like a simpleton. At the +same time a tinge of ineffectual malice and envy appeared through her +ill-feigned humility. She could give no opinion of any book--oh, she +would not give any judgment for the whole world! She did not think +herself qualified to speak, even if she had read the book, which indeed +she had not, for, really, she never read--she was not a _reading lady_. + +As Miss Hunter had no portion of Mrs. Beaumont’s quick penetration, she +did not see the unfavourable impression these words made: certain that +she was following exactly her secret instructions, she was confident of +being in the right line; so on she went, whilst Mrs. Beaumont sighed in +vain; and Miss Walsingham, who now saw and understood her whole play, +almost smiled at the comic of the scene. + +“O dear, Mrs. Beaumont,” continued Miss Hunter, “how can you ever +appeal to me about books and those sorts of things, when you know I know +nothing about the matter? For mercy’s sake, never do so any more, for +you know I’ve no taste for those sorts of things. And besides, I own, +even if I could, I should so hate to be thought a blue-stocking--I would +not have the least bit of blue in my stockings for the whole world--I’d +rather have any other colour, black, white, red, green, yellow, any +other colour. So I own I’m not sorry I’m not what they call a genius; +for though genius to be sure’s a very fascinating sort of thing in +gentlemen, yet in women it is not so becoming, I think, especially in +ladies: it does very well on the stage, and for artists, and so on; but +really now, in company, I think it’s an awkward thing, and would make +one look so odd! Now, Mr. Beaumont, I must tell you an anecdote--” + +“Stop, my dear Miss Hunter, your ear-ring is coming out. Stay! let me +clasp it, love!” exclaimed Mrs. Beaumont, determined to stop her in the +career of nonsense, by giving her sensations, since she could not give +her ideas, a new turn. + +“Oh, ma’am! ma’am! Oh! my ear! you are killing me, dearest Mrs. +Beaumont! pinching me to death, ma’am!” + +“Did I pinch, my dear? It was the hinge of the ear-ring, I suppose.” + +“I don’t know what it was; but here’s blood, I declare!” + +“My love, I beg you a thousand pardons. How could I be so awkward! But +why could not you for one moment hold your little head still?” + +Miss Walsingham applied a patch to the wound. + +“Such a pretty ear as it is,” continued Mrs. Beaumont; “I am sure it was +a pity to hurt it.” + +“You really did hurt it,” said Mr. Beaumont, in a tone of compassion. + +“Oh, horridly!” cried Miss Hunter--“and I, that always faint at the +sight of blood!” + +Afraid that the young lady would again spoil her part in the acting, and +lose all the advantages which might result from the combined effect of +the pretty ear and of compassion, Mrs. Beaumont endeavoured to take off +her attention from the wound, by attacking her ear-rings. + +“My love,” said she, “don’t wear these ear-rings any more, for I assure +you there is no possibility of shutting or opening them, without hurting +you.” + +This expedient, however, nearly proved fatal in its consequences. +Miss Hunter entered most warmly into the defence of her ear-rings; and +appealed to Mr. Beaumont to confirm her decision, that they were the +prettiest and best ear-rings in the world. Unluckily, they did not +particularly suit his fancy, and the young lady, who had, but half an +hour before, professed that she could never be of a different opinion +in any thing from that of the man she loved, now pettishly declared that +she could not and would not give up her taste. Incensed still more by a +bow of submission, but not of conviction, from Mr. Beaumont, she went +on regardless of her dearest Mrs. Beaumont’s frowns, and vehemently +maintained her judgment, quoting, with triumphant volubility, +innumerable precedents of ladies, “who had just bought _the very same_ +ear-rings, and whose taste she believed nobody would dispute.” + +Mr. Beaumont had seen enough, now and upon many other occasions, to be +convinced that it is not on matters of consequence that ladies are apt +to grow most angry; and he stood confirmed in his belief that those who +in theory professed to have such a humble opinion of their own abilities +that they cannot do or understand any thing useful, are often, in +practice, the most prone to insist upon the infallibility of their taste +and judgment. Mrs. Beaumont, who saw with one glance of her quick +eye what passed at this moment in her son’s mind, sighed, and said to +herself--“How impossible to manage a fool, who ravels, as fast as one +weaves, the web of her fortune!” + +Yet though Mrs. Beaumont perceived and acknowledged the impracticability +of managing a fool for a single hour, it was one of the favourite +objects of her manoeuvres to obtain this very fool for a +daughter-in-law, with the hope of governing her for life. So +inconsistent are cunning people, even of the best abilities; so ill do +they calculate the value of their ultimate objects, however ingeniously +they devise their means, or adapt them to their ends. + +During this walk Mr. Palmer had taken no part in the conversation; he +had seemed engrossed with his own thoughts, or occupied with observing +the beauties of the place. Tired with her walk--for Mrs. Beaumont always +complained of being fatigued when she was vexed, thus at once concealing +her vexation, and throwing the faults of her mind upon her body--she +stretched herself upon a sofa as soon as she reached the house, nor +did she recover from her exhausted state till she cast her eyes upon a +tamborine, which she knew would afford means of showing Miss Hunter’s +figure and graces to advantage. Slight as this resource may seem, +Mrs. Beaumont well knew that slighter still have often produced great +effects. Soon afterward she observed her son smile repeatedly as he +read a passage in some book that lay upon the table, and she had the +curiosity to take up the book when he turned away. She found that it +was Cumberland’s Memoirs, and saw the following little poem marked with +reiterated lines of approbation: + + “Why, Affectation, why this mock grimace? + Go, silly thing, and hide that simp’ring face. + Thy lisping prattle, and thy mincing gait, + All thy false mimic fooleries I hate; + For thou art Folly’s counterfeit, and she + Who is right foolish hath the better plea; + Nature’s true idiot I prefer to thee. + + Why that soft languish? + Why that drawling tone? + Art sick, art sleepy? + Get thee hence: begone. + I laugh at all thy pretty baby tears, + Those flutt’rings, faintings, and unreal fears. + + Can they deceive us? + Can such mumm’ries move, + Touch us with pity, or inspire with love? + No, Affectation, vain is all thy art! + Those eyes may wander over ev’ry part; + They’ll never find their passage to the heart.” + + +“Why, Affectation, why this mock grimace? Go, silly thing, and hide that +simp’ring face. Thy lisping prattle, and thy mincing gait, All thy false +mimic fooleries I hate; For thou art Folly’s counterfeit, and she Who +is right foolish hath the better plea; Nature’s true idiot I prefer to +thee. + +Why that soft languish? Why that drawling tone? Art sick, art sleepy? +Get thee hence: begone. I laugh at all thy pretty baby tears, Those +flutt’rings, faintings, and unreal fears. + +Can they deceive us? Can such mumm’ries move, Touch us with pity, or +inspire with love? No, Affectation, vain is all thy art! Those eyes may +wander over ev’ry part; They’ll never find their passage to the heart.” + +Mrs. Beaumont, the moment she had read these lines, perceived why her +son had smiled. The portrait seemed really to have been drawn from Miss +Hunter, and the lines were so _à propos_ to the scene which had just +passed during the walk, that it was impossible to avoid the application. +Mrs. Beaumont shut the book hastily as her dear Albina approached, for +she was afraid that the young lady would have known her own picture. +So few people, however, even of those much wiser than Miss Hunter, know +themselves, that she need not have been alarmed. But she had no longer +leisure to devote her thoughts to this subject, for Mr. Walsingham, +who had been out riding, had by this time returned; and the moment he +entered the room, Mrs. Beaumont’s attention was directed to him and to +Mr. Palmer. She introduced them to each other, with many expressions of +regret that they should not sooner have met. + +Characters that are free from artifice immediately coalesce, as metals +that are perfectly pure can be readily cemented together. Mr. Palmer +and Mr. Walsingham were intimate in half an hour. There was an air of +openness and sincerity about Mr. Walsingham; a freedom and directness in +his conversation, which delighted Mr. Palmer. + +“I am heartily glad we have met at last, my good cousin Walsingham,” + said he: “very sorry should I have been to have left the country without +becoming acquainted with you: and now I wish your gallant captain was +arrived. I am to set off the day after to-morrow, and I am sadly afraid +I shall miss seeing him.” + +Mr. Walsingham said, that as they expected him every hour, he hoped +Mr. Palmer would persuade Mrs. Beaumont to spend the day at Walsingham +House. + +Mrs. Beaumont dared not object. On the contrary, it was now her policy +to pretend the fondest friendship for all the Walsingham family: yet, +all the time, pursuing her plan of preventing Mr. Palmer from discerning +their real characters and superior merit, she managed with great +dexterity to keep the conversation as much as possible upon general +topics, and tried to prevent Mr. Palmer from being much alone with +Mr. Walsingham, for she dreaded their growing intimacy. After dinner, +however, when the ladies retired, the gentlemen drew their chairs close +together, and had a great deal of conversation on interesting subjects. +The most interesting was Captain Walsingham: Mr. Palmer earnestly +desired to hear the particulars of his history. + +“And from whom,” said young Beaumont, turning to Mr. Walsingham, “can he +hear them better than from Captain Walsingham’s guardian and friend?” + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + _“Yet never seaman more serenely brave + Led Britain’s conquering squadrons o’er the wave.”_ + + +“Friends are not always the best biographers,” said Mr. Walsingham; “but +I will try to be impartial. My ward’s first desire to be a sailor was +excited, as he has often since told me, by reading Robinson Crusoe. When +he was scarcely thirteen he went out in the Resolute, a frigate, under +the command of Captain Campbell. Campbell was an excellent officer, +and very strict in all that related to order and discipline. It was his +principle and his practice never to forgive _a first offence_; by which +the number of second faults was considerably diminished. My ward was not +much pleased at first with his captain; but he was afterwards convinced +that this strictness was what made a man of him. He was buffeted about, +and shown the rough of life; made to work hard, and submit to authority. +To reason he was always ready to yield; and by degrees he learned that +his first duty as a sailor was implicit obedience. In due time he was +made lieutenant: in this situation, his mixed duties of command and +obedience were difficult, because his first-lieutenant, the captain’s +son, was jealous of him. + +“Walsingham found it a more difficult task to win the confidence of +the son than it had been to earn the friendship of the father. His +punctuality in obeying orders, and his respectful manner to the +lieutenant, availed but little; for young Campbell still viewed him with +scornful yet with jealous eyes, imagining that he only wanted to show +himself the better officer. + +“Of the falsehood of these suspicions Walsingham had at last an +opportunity of giving unquestionable proof. It happened one day that +Lieutenant Campbell, impatient at seeing a sailor doing some work +awkwardly on the outside of the vessel, snatched the rope from his hand, +and swore he would do it himself. In his hurry, Campbell missed his +footing, and fell overboard:--he could not swim. Walsingham had +the presence of mind to order the ship to be put about, and plunged +instantly into the water to save his rival. With much exertion he +reached Campbell, supported him till the boat was lowered down, and got +him safe aboard again.” + +“Just like himself!” cried young Beaumont; “all he ever wanted was +opportunity to show his soul.” + +“The first-lieutenant’s jealousy was now changed into gratitude,” + continued Mr. Walsingham; “and from this time forward, instead of +suffering from that petty rivalship by which he used to be obstructed, +Walsingham enjoyed the entire confidence of young Campbell. This good +understanding between him and his brother officer not only made their +every day lives pleasant, but in times of difficulty secured success. +For three years that they lived together after this period, and during +which time they were ordered to every quarter of the globe, they never +had the slightest dispute, either in the busiest or the idlest times. At +length, in some engagement with a Dutch ship, the particulars of which +I forget, Lieutenant Campbell was mortally wounded: his last words +were--‘Walsingham, comfort my father.’ That was no easy task. Stern as +Captain Campbell seemed, the loss of his son was irreparable. He never +shed a tear when he was told it was all over, but said, ‘God’s will be +done;’ and turning into his cabin, desired to be left alone. Half an +hour afterwards he sent for Walsingham, who found him quite calm. ‘We +must see and do our duty together to the last,’ said he. + +“He exerted himself strenuously, and to all outward appearance was, as +the sailors said, the same man as ever; but Walsingham, who knew him +better, saw that his heart was broken, and that he wished for nothing +but an honourable death. One morning as he was on deck looking through +his glass, he called to Walsingham; ‘Your eyes are better than mine,’ +said he; ‘look here, and tell me, do you see yonder sail--she’s French? +Le Magnanime frigate, if I’m not mistaken. ‘Yes,’ said Walsingham, ‘I +know her by the patch in her main sail.’--‘We’ll give her something +to do,’ said Campbell, ‘though she’s so much our superior. Please God, +before the sun’s over our heads, you shall have her in tow, Walsingham.’ +‘_We_ shall, I trust,’ said Walsingham.--‘Perhaps not _we_; for I own +I wish to fall,’ said Campbell. ‘You are first-lieutenant now; I can’t +leave my men under better command, and I hope the Admiralty will give +you the ship, if you give it to his Majesty.’--Then turning to the +sailors, Captain Campbell addressed them with a countenance unusually +cheerful; and, after a few words of encouragement, gave orders to clear +decks for action. ‘Walsingham, you’ll see to every thing whilst I step +down to write.’ He wrote, as it was afterwards found, two letters, both +concerning Walsingham’s interests. The frigate with which they had to +engage was indeed far superior to them in force; but Campbell trusted to +the good order and steadiness as well as to the courage of his men. The +action was long and obstinate. Twice the English attempted to board the +enemy, and twice were repulsed. The third time, just as Captain Campbell +had seized hold of the French colours, which hung in rags over the side +of the enemy’s ship, he received a wound in his breast, fell back into +Walsingham’s arms, and almost instantly expired. The event of this day +was different from what Campbell had expected, for _Le Succès_ of fifty +guns appeared in sight; and, after a desperate engagement with her, in +which Walsingham was severely wounded, and every other officer on board +killed or wounded, Walsingham saw that nothing was left but to make a +wanton sacrifice of the remainder of his crew, or to strike. + +“After a contest of six hours, he struck to _Le Succès_. Perfect silence +on his deck; a loud and insulting shout from the enemy! + +“No sooner had Walsingham struck, than La Force, the captain of _Le +Succès_ hailed him, and ordered him to come in his own boat, and to +deliver his sword. Walsingham replied, that ‘his sword, so demanded, +should never be delivered but with his life.’[2] The Frenchman did not +think proper to persist; but soon after sent his lieutenant on board +the Resolute, where the men were found at their quarters with lighted +matches in their hands, ready to be as good as their word. La Force, +the captain of _Le Succès_, was a sailor of fortune, who had risen by +chance, not merit.” + +“Ay, ay,” interrupted Mr. Palmer, “so I thought; and there was no great +merit, or glory either, in a French fifty gun taking an English frigate, +after standing a six hours’ contest with another ship. Well, my dear +sir, what became of poor Walsingham? How did this rascally Frenchman +treat his prisoners?” + +“Scandalously!” cried Beaumont; “and yet Walsingham is so generous that +he will never let me damn the nation, for what he says was only the +fault of an individual, who disgraced it.” + +“Well, let me hear and judge for myself,” said Mr. Palmer. + +“La Force carried the Resolute in triumph into a French port,” continued +Mr. Walsingham. “Vain of displaying his prisoners, he marched them up +the country, under pretence that they would not be safe in a sea-port. +Cambray was the town in which they were confined. Walsingham found the +officers of the garrison very civil to him at first; but when they saw +that he was not fond of high play, and that he declined being of their +parties at billiards and _vingt-un_, they grew tired of him; for without +these resources they declared they should perish with _ennui_ in a +country town. Even under the penalty of losing all society, Walsingham +resisted every temptation to game, and submitted to live with the +strictest economy rather than to run in debt.” + +“But did you never send him any money? Or did not he get your +remittances?” said Mr. Palmer. + +“My dear sir, by some delays of letters, we did not hear for two months +where he was imprisoned.” + +“And he was reduced to the greatest distress,” pursued Beaumont; “for +he had shared all he had, to the utmost farthing, with his poor +fellow-prisoners.” + +“Like a true British sailor!” said Mr. Palmer. “Well, sir, I hope he +contrived to make his escape?” + +“No, for he would not break his parole,” said Beaumont, + +“His parole! I did not know he was on his parole,” said Mr. Palmer. +“Then certainly he could not break it.” + +“He had two tempting opportunities, I can assure you,” said Beaumont; +“one offered by the commandant’s lady, who was not insensible to his +merit; the other, by the gratitude of some poor servant, whom he had +obliged--Mr. Walsingham can tell you all the particulars.” + +“No, I need not detail the circumstances; it is enough to tell you, +sir, that he withstood the temptations, would not break his parole, and +remained four months a prisoner in Cambray. Like the officers of the +garrison, he should have drunk or gamed, or else he must have died of +vexation, he says, if he had not fortunately had a taste for reading, +and luckily procured books from a good old priest’s library. At the end +of four months the garrison of Cambray was changed; and instead of a set +of dissipated officers, there came a well-conducted regiment, under the +command of M. de Villars, an elderly officer of sense and discretion.” + +“An excellent man!” cried Beaumont: “I love him with all my soul, +though I never saw him. But I beg your pardon for interrupting you, Mr. +Walsingham.” + +“A prattling hairdresser at Cambray first prepossessed M. de Villars in +Walsingham’s favour, by relating a number of anecdotes intended to +throw abuse and ridicule upon the English captain, to convict him of +misanthropy and economy; of having had his hair dressed but twice since +he came to Cambray; of never having frequented the society of Madame +la Marquise de Marsillac, the late commandant’s lady, for more than a +fortnight after his arrival, and of having actually been detected in +working with his own hand with smiths’ and carpenters’ tools. Upon +the strength of the hairdresser’s information, M. de Villars paid the +English captain a visit; was pleased by his conversation, and by all +that he observed of his conduct and character. + +“As M. de Villars was going down stairs, after having spent an evening +with Walsingham, a boy of twelve years old, the son of the master of +the lodging-house, equipped in a military uniform, stood across the +landing-place, as if determined to, stop him. ‘Mon petit militaire,’ +said the commandant, ‘do you mean to dispute my passage?’ ‘Non, mon +général,’ said the boy; ‘I know my duty too well. But I post myself +here to demand an audience, for I have a secret of importance to +communicate.’ M. de Villars, smiling at the boy’s air of consequence, +yet pleased with the steady earnestness of his manner, took him by +the hand into an antechamber, and said that he was ready to listen +to whatever he had to impart. The boy then told him that he had +accidentally overheard a proposal which had been made to facilitate the +English captain’s escape, and that the captain refused to comply with +it, because it was not honourable to break his parole. The boy, who +had been struck by the circumstance, and who, besides, was grateful +to Walsingham for some little instances of kindness, spoke with much +enthusiasm in his favour; and, as M. de Villars afterwards repeated, +finished his speech by exclaiming, ‘I would give every thing I have +in the world, except my sword and my honour, to procure this English +captain his liberty.’ + +“M. de Villars was pleased with the boy’s manner, and with the fact +which he related; so much so, that he promised, that if Walsingham’s +liberty could be obtained he would procure it. ‘And you, my good little +friend, shall, if I succeed,’ added he, ‘have the pleasure of being the +first to tell him the good news.’ + +“Some days afterwards, the boy burst into Walsingham’s room, exclaiming, +‘Liberty! liberty! you are at liberty!’--He danced and capered with +such wild joy, that it was some time before Walsingham could obtain any +explanation, or could prevail on him to let him look at a letter which +he held in his hand, flourishing it about in triumph. At last he showed +that it was an order from M. de Villars, for the release of Captain +Walsingham, and of all the English prisoners, belonging to the Resolute, +for whom exchanges had been effected. No favour could be granted in a +manner more honourable to all the parties concerned. Walsingham arrived +in England without any farther difficulties.” + +“Thank God!” said Mr. Palmer. “Well, now he has touched English ground +again, I have some hopes for him. What next?” + +“The first thing he did, of course, was to announce his return to the +Admiralty. A court-martial was held at Portsmouth; and, fortunately for +him, was composed of officers of the highest distinction, so that +the first men in his profession became thoroughly acquainted with the +circumstances of his conduct. The enthusiasm with which his men bore +testimony in his favour was gratifying to his feelings, and the minutes +of the evidence were most honourable to him. The court pronounced, that +Lieutenant Walsingham had done all that could be effected by the most +gallant and judicious officer in the defence of His Majesty’s ship +Resolute. The ministry who had employed Captain Campbell were no longer +in place, and one of the Lords of the Admiralty at this time happened +to have had some personal quarrel with him. A few days after the trial, +Walsingham was at a public dinner, at which Campbell’s character became +the subject of conversation. Walsingham was warned, in a whisper, that +the first Lord of the Admiralty’s private secretary was present, and was +advised to be _prudent_; but Walsingham’s prudence was not of that sort +which can coolly hear a worthy man’s memory damned with faint praise; +his prudence was not of that sort which can tamely sit by and see a +friend’s reputation in danger. With all the warmth and eloquence of +friendship, he spoke in Captain Campbell’s defence, and paid a just and +energetic tribute of praise to his memory. He spoke, and not a word +more was said against Campbell. The politicians looked down upon their +plates; and there was a pause of that sort, which sometimes in a company +of interested men of the world results from surprise at the imprudent +honesty of a good-natured novice. Walsingham, as the company soon +afterwards broke up, heard one gentleman say of him to another, as they +went away, ‘There’s a fellow now, who has ruined himself without knowing +it, and all for a dead man.’ It was not without knowing it: Walsingham +was well aware what he hazarded, but he was then, and ever, ready to +sacrifice his own interests in the defence of truth and of a friend. For +two long years afterwards, Walsingham was, in the technical and elegant +phrase, _left on the shelf, and the door of promotion was shut against +him.”_ + +“Yes, and there he might have remained till now,” said Beaumont, “if it +had not been for that good Mr. Gaspar, a clerk in one of their offices; +a man who, though used to live among courtiers and people hackneyed in +the political ways of the world, was a plain, warm-hearted friend, a man +of an upright character, who prized integrity and generosity the +more because he met with them so seldom. But I beg your pardon, Mr. +Walsingham; will you go on and tell Mr. Palmer how and why Gaspar served +our friend?” + +“One day Walsingham had occasion to go to Mr. Gaspar’s office to search +for some papers relative to certain charts which he had drawn, and +intended to present to the Admiralty. In talking of the soundings of +some bay he had taken whilst out with Captain Campbell, he mentioned +him, as he always did, with terms of affection and respect. Mr. Gaspar +immediately asked, ‘Are you, sir, that Lieutenant Walsingham, of +the Resolute, who at a public dinner about two years ago made such a +disinterested defence of your captain? If it is in my power to serve +you, depend upon it I will. Leave your charts with me; I think I may +have an opportunity of turning them to your advantage, and that of the +service.’ Gaspar, who was thoroughly in earnest, took a happy moment to +present Walsingham’s charts before the Admiralty, just at a time when +they were wanted. The Admiralty were glad to employ an officer who had +some local information, and they sent him out in the Dreadnought, a +thirty-six gun frigate, with Captain Jemmison, to the West Indies.” + +“And what sort of a man was his new captain?” said Mr. Palmer. + +“As unlike his old one as possible,” said Beaumont. + +“Yes,” continued Mr. Walsingham; “in every point, except courage, +Captain Jemmison was as complete a contrast as could be imagined to +Captain Campbell. Whatever else he might be, Jemmison was certainly a +man of undaunted courage.” + +“That’s of course, if he was a captain in the British navy,” said Mr. +Palmer. + +“From his appearance, however, you would never have taken him for a +gallant sailor,” said Mr. Walsingham: “abhorring the rough, brutal, +swearing, grog-drinking, tobacco-chewing, race of sea-officers, the Bens +and the Mirvans of former times, Captain Jemmison, resolving, I suppose, +to avoid their faults, went into the contrary extreme of refinement and +effeminacy. A superlative coxcomb, and an epicure more from fashion than +taste, he gloried in descanting, with technical precision, on the merits +of dishes and of cooks. His table, even on shipboard, was to be equalled +in elegance only by his toilet.” + +“The puppy!” exclaimed Mr. Palmer. “And how could Captain Walsingham go +on with such a coxcomb?” + +“Very ill, you may be sure,” said Beaumont; “for Walsingham, I’ll answer +for it, never could conceal or control his feelings of contempt or +indignation.” + +“Yet, as Captain Jemmison’s lieutenant, he always behaved with perfect +propriety,” said Mr. Walsingham, “and bore with his foppery and +impertinence with the patience becoming a subordinate officer to his +superior. Jemmison could not endure a lieutenant whose character and +manners were a continual contrast and reproach to his own, and he +disliked him the more because he could never provoke him to any +disrespect. Jemmison often replied even to Walsingham’s silent contempt; +as a French pamphleteer once published a book entitled, _Réponse au +Silence de M. de la Motte_. On some points, where duty and principle +were concerned, Walsingham, however, could not be silent. There was a +lad of the name of Birch on board the Dreadnought, whom Walsingham had +taken under his immediate care, and whom he was endeavouring to train +up in every good habit. Jemmison, to torment Walsingham, made it his +pleasure to counteract him in these endeavours, and continually did all +he could to spoil Birch by foolish indulgence. Walsingham’s indignation +was upon these occasions vehement, and his captain and he came to +frequent quarrels. Young Birch, who had sense enough to know which +was his true friend, one day threw himself on his knees to beseech his +lieutenant not to hazard so much on his account, and solemnly swore that +he would never be guilty of the slightest excess or negligence during +the remainder of the voyage. The young man was steady to his promise, +and by his resolution and temper prevented Walsingham and his captain +from coming to a serious rupture. When they arrived at their place of +destination, Jamaica, Captain Jemmison went on shore to divert himself, +and spent his time in great dissipation at Spanish Town, eating, +dressing, dancing, gallanting, and glorying in its being observed by +all the ladies that he had nothing of a sea-captain about him. The other +officers, encouraged by his precept and example, left the ship; but +Walsingham stayed on board, and had severe duty to perform, for he could +not allow the crew to go on shore, because they got into riots with the +townspeople. Soon after their arrival, and even during the course +of their voyage, he had observed among the sailors something like +a disposition to mutiny, encouraged probably by the negligence and +apparent effeminacy of their captain. Though they knew him to be a man +of intrepidity, yet they ridiculed and despised his coxcombry, and his +relaxation of discipline gave them hopes of succeeding in their mutinous +schemes. Walsingham strongly and repeatedly represented to Captain +Jemmison the danger, and remonstrated with him and the other officers +upon the imprudence of leaving the ship at this juncture; but Jemmison, +in a prettily rounded period, protested he saw no penumbra of danger, +and that till he was called upon by Mars, he owned he preferred the +charms of Venus. + +“This was vastly elegant; but, nevertheless, it happened one night, +when the captain, after having eaten an admirable supper, was paying his +court to a Creole lady of Spanish Town, news was brought him, that the +crew of the Dreadnought had mutinied, and that Lieutenant Walsingham +was killed. One half of the report was true, and the other nearly so. At +midnight, after having been exhausted during the preceding week by his +vigilance, Walsingham had just thrown himself into his cot, when he +was roused by Birch at his cabin-door, crying, ‘A mutiny! a mutiny on +deck!’--Walsingham seized his drawn cutlass, and ran up the ladder, +determined to cut down the ringleader; but just as he reached the top, +the sailors shut down the hatchway, which struck his head with such +violence, that he fell, stunned, and, to all appearance, dead. Birch +contrived, in the midst of the bustle, before he was himself seized +by the mutineers, to convey, by signals to shore, news of what had +happened. But Captain Jemmison could now be of no use. Before he could +take any measures to prevent them, the mutineers weighed anchor, and +the Dreadnought, under a brisk breeze, was out of the bay; all the other +vessels in the harbour taking it for granted that her captain was on +board, and that she was sailing under orders. In the mean time, whilst +Walsingham was senseless, the sailors stowed him into his cabin, and set +a guard over him. The ringleader, Jefferies, a revengeful villain, who +bore malice against him for some just punishment, wanted to murder him, +but the rest would not consent. Some would not dip their hands in blood; +others pleaded for him, and said that he was never cruel. One man urged, +that the lieutenant had been kind to him when he was sick. Another +suggested, that it would be well to keep him alive to manage the ship +for them, in case of difficulties. Conscious of their ignorance, they +acceded to this advice; Jefferies’ proposal to murder him was overruled: +and it was agreed to keep Walsingham close prisoner till they should +need his assistance. He had his timekeeper and log-book locked up with +him, which were totally forgotten by these miscreants. Never seaman +prayed more fervently for fair weather than Walsingham now did for +a storm. At last, one night he heard (and he says it was one of the +pleasantest sounds he ever heard in his life) the wind rising. Soon it +blew a storm. He heard one of the sailors say--‘A stiff gale, Jack!’ and +another--‘An ugly night!’ Presently, great noise on deck, and the pumps +at work. Every moment he now expected a deputation from the mutineers. +The first person he saw was the carpenter, who came in to knock in the +dead lights in the cabin windows. The man was surly, and would give no +answer to any questions; but Walsingham knew, by the hurry of his work, +that the fellow thought there was no time to be lost. Twice, before he +could finish what he was about, messages came from _Captain Jefferies,_ +to order him to something else. Then a violent crash above from the fall +of a mast; and then he heard one cry--‘I’ll be cursed if I should care, +if we did but know where-abouts we are.’ Then all was in such uproar, +that no voices could be distinguished. At last his cabin-door unlocked, +and many voices called upon him at once to come upon deck that instant +and save the ship. Walsingham absolutely refused to do any thing for +them till they returned to their duty, delivered up to him their arms, +and their ringleader, Jefferies. At this answer they stood aghast. Some +tried entreaties, some threats: all in vain. Walsingham coolly said, +he would go to the bottom along with the ship rather than say a word +to save them, till they submitted. The storm blew stronger--the danger +every moment increasing. One of the mutineers came with a drawn cutlass, +another levelled a blunderbuss at Walsingham, swearing to despatch him +that instant, if he would not tell them where they were. ‘Murder me, +and you will be hanged; persist in your mutiny, you’ll be drowned,’ +said Walsingham. ‘You’ll never make me swerve from my duty--and you know +it--you have my answer.’ The enraged sailors seized him in their arms, +and carried him by force upon deck, where the sight of the danger, +and the cries of ‘Throw him overboard!--over with him!’ only seemed to +fortify his resolution. Not a word, not a sign could they get from him. +The rudder was now unshipped! At this the sailors’ fury turned +suddenly upon Jefferies, who between terror and ignorance was utterly +incapacitated. They seized, bound, gave him up to Walsingham, returned +to their duty; and then, and not till then, Walsingham resumed his +command. Walsingham’s voice, once more heard, inspired confidence, and +with the hopes revived the exertions of the sailors. I am not seaman +enough to tell you how the ship was saved; but that it was saved, and +saved by Walsingham, is certain. I remember only, that he made the ship +manageable by some contrivance, which he substituted in the place of the +rudder that had been unshipped. The storm abating, he made for the first +port, to repair the ship’s damages, intending to return to Jamaica, to +deliver her up to her captain; but, from a vessel they spoke at sea, he +learned that Jemmison was gone to England in a merchantman. To England +then Walsingham prepared to follow.” + +“And with this rebel crew!” cried Beaumont; “think, Mr. Palmer, what a +situation he was in, knowing, as he did, that every rascal of them would +sooner go to the devil than go home, where they knew they must be tried +for their mutiny.” + +“Well, sir, well!” said Mr. Palmer. “Did they run away with the ship a +second time? or how did he manage?” + +He called them all one morning together on deck; and pointing to the +place where the gunpowder was kept, he said--‘I have means of blowing up +the ship. If ever you attempt to mutiny again, the first finger you lay +upon me, I blow her up instantly.’ They had found him to be a man of +resolution. They kept to their duty. Not a symptom of disobedience +during the rest of the voyage. In their passage they fell in with an +enemy’s ship, far superior to them in force. ‘There, my lads!’ said +Walsingham, ‘if you have a mind to earn your pardons, there’s your best +chance. Take her home with you to your captain and your king.’ A loud +cheer was their answer. They fought like devils to redeem themselves. +Walsingham--but without stopping to make his panegyric, I need only tell +you, that Walsingham’s conduct and intrepidity were this time crowned +with success. He took the enemy’s ship, and carried it in triumph into +Portsmouth. Jemmison was on the platform when they came in; and what a +mortifying sight it was to him, and what a proud hour to Walsingham, you +may imagine! Having delivered the Dreadnought and her prize over to his +captain, the next thing to be thought of was the trial of the mutineers. +All except Jefferies obtained a pardon, in consideration of their return +to duty, and their subsequent services. Jefferies was hanged at the +yard-arm. The trial of the mutineers brought on, as Jemmison foresaw it +must, many animadversions on his own conduct. Powerful connexions, and +his friends in place, silenced, as much as possible, the public voice. +Jemmison gave excellent dinners, and endeavoured to drown the whole +affair in his choice Champagne and _London particular Madeira_; so his +health, and success to the British navy, was drunk in bumper toasts. + +“Ay, ay, they think to do every thing now in England by dinners, and +bumper toasts, and three times three,” said Mr. Palmer. + +“But it did not do in this instance,” said Beaumont, in a tone of +exultation: “it did not do.” + +“No,” continued Mr. Walsingham; “though Jemmison’s dinners went +down vastly well with a party, they did not satisfy the public. The +opposition papers grew clamorous, and the business was taken up so +strongly, and it raised such a cry against the ministry, that they were +obliged to bring Jemmison to a court-martial.” + +“The puppy! I’m glad of it, with all my soul. And how did he look then?” + said Mr. Palmer. + +“Vastly like a gentleman; that was all that even his friends could say +for him. The person he was most afraid of on the trial was Walsingham. +In this apprehension he was confirmed by certain of his friends, who +had attempted to sound Walsingham as to the nature of the evidence he +intended to give. They all reported, that they could draw nothing out +of him, and that he was an impracticable fellow; for his constant answer +was, that his evidence should be given in court, and nowhere else.” + +“Even to his most intimate friends,” interrupted Mr. Beaumont, “even to +me, who was in the house with him all the time the trial was going on, +he did not tell what his evidence would be.” + +“When the day of trial came,” pursued Mr. Walsingham---- + +“Don’t forget Admiral Dashleigh,” said Mr. Beaumont. + +“No; who can forget him that knows him?” said Walsingham: “a warm, +generous friend, open-hearted as he is brave--he came to Captain +Walsingham the day before the court-martial was to sit. ‘I know, +Walsingham, you don’t like my cousin Jemmison (said he), nor do I much, +for he is a puppy, and I never could like a puppy, related to me or not; +be that as it may, you’ll do him justice, I’m sure; for though he is +a puppy he is a brave fellow--and here, for party purposes, they +have raised a cry of his being a coward, and want to shoot him _pour +encourager les autres_. What you say will damn or save him; and I have +too good an opinion of you to think that any old grudge, though you +might have cause for it, would stand in his way.’ Walsingham answered +as usual, that his opinion and his evidence would be known on the day +of trial. Dashleigh went away very ill-satisfied, and persuaded that +Walsingham harboured revenge against his relation. At last, when he was +called upon in court, Walsingham’s conduct was both just and generous; +for though his answers spoke the exact truth, yet he brought forward +nothing to the disadvantage of Jemmison, but what truth compelled him +to state, and in his captain’s favour; on the contrary, he spoke so +strongly of his intrepidity, and of the gallant actions which in former +instances he had performed in the service, as quite to efface the +recollection of his foppery and epicurism, and, as much as possible, +to excuse his negligence. Walsingham’s evidence absolutely confuted the +unjust charge or suspicion of cowardice that had been raised against +Jemmison; and made such an impression in his favour, that, instead of +being dismissed the service, or even having his ship taken from him, as +was expected, Jemmison got off with a reprimand.” + +“Which I am sure he well deserved,” said Mr. Palmer. + +“But certainly Walsingham was right not to let him be run down by a +popular cry, especially as he had used him ill,” said Mr. Beaumont. + +“Well, well!--I don’t care about the puppy,” cried Mr. Palmer; “only go +on.” + +“No sooner was the trial over, and the sentence of the court made known, +than Admiral Dashleigh, full of joy, admiration, and gratitude, +pushed his way towards Walsingham, and stretching out his hand, +exclaimed--‘Shake hands, Walsingham, and forgive me, or I can’t forgive +myself. I suspected you yesterday morning of bearing malice against that +coxcomb, who deserved to be laughed at, but not to be shot. By Jove, +Walsingham, you’re an honest fellow, I find.’ ‘And have you but just +found that out, admiral?’ said Walsingham, with a proud smile. ‘Harkee, +my lad,’ said Dashleigh, calling after him, ‘remember, I’m _your_ +friend, at all events.--Take it as you will, I’ll make you mine yet, +before I’ve done with you.’ Walsingham knew that at this time Admiral +Dashleigh’s friends were in power, and that Dashleigh himself had great +influence with the Admiralty; and he probably treated the admiral thus +haughtily, to show that he had no interested views or hopes. Dashleigh +understood this, for he now comprehended Walsingham’s character +perfectly. Immediately after the trial, Walsingham was made commander, +in consequence of his having saved the Dreadnought, and his having taken +l’Ambuscade. With this appointment Dashleigh had nothing to do. But he +never ceased exerting himself, employing all the interest of his high +connexions, and all the personal influence of his great abilities, to +have Walsingham made post, and to get him a ship. He succeeded at last; +but he never gave the least hint that it was done by his interest; for, +he said, he knew that Walsingham had such nice notions, and was such a +proud principled fellow, that he would not enjoy his promotion, if +he thought he owed it to any thing upon earth but his own merit. So a +handsome letter was written by the secretary of the Admiralty to +Captain Walsingham, by their lordships’ desire, informing him, ‘that in +consideration of his services and merit, his majesty had been pleased to +make him post-captain, and to appoint him to the command of l’Ambuscade +(the prize he took), which would be sent out on the first occasion.’ The +secretary ‘begged leave to add expressions of his private satisfaction +on an appointment so likely to be advantageous to the public,’ &c. +In short, it was all done so properly and so plausibly, that even +Walsingham never suspected any secret influence, nor did he find out the +part Dashleigh had taken in the business till several months afterwards, +when a _discreet_ friend mentioned it by accident.” + +“I was that discreet friend,” said Mr. Beaumont. + +“Well, all this is very good, but there’s no love in this Story,” said +Mr. Palmer. “I hope your hero is not too proud to fall in love?” + +“Too proud!--We are told, you know, that the greatest hero, in the +intervals of war, resigned + + ‘To tender passions all his mighty mind.’” + +“Tender passions!--Captain Walsingham is in love, then, hey?” said Mr. +Palmer. “And may I ask--Bless me! I shall be very sorry if it is with +any body but--may I ask to whom he is attached?” + +“That is a question that I am not quite at liberty perhaps to answer,” + said Mr. Walsingham. “During the interval between his return in the +Dreadnought and his being appointed to l’Ambuscade, an interval of about +eighteen months, which he spent in the country here with me, he had time +to become thoroughly acquainted with a very amiable young lady--” + +“A very amiable young lady! and in this neighbourhood?” interrupted Mr. +Palmer; “it must be the very person I mean, the very person I wish.” + +“Do not ask me any more,” said Mr. Walsingham; “for my friend never +declared his attachment, and I have no right to declare it for him. He +was not, at the time I speak of, in circumstances to marry; therefore he +honourably concealed, or rather suppressed, his passion, resolving not +to attempt to engage the young lady’s affections till he should have +made a fortune sufficient to support her in her own rank in life.” + +“Well, now, that’s all done, thank Heaven!” cried Palmer: “he has +fortune enough now, or we can help him out, you know. This is excellent, +excellent!--Come, is it not time for us to go to the ladies? I’m +impatient to tell this to Mrs. Beaumont.” + +“Stay, my good Mr. Palmer,” said Mr. Walsingham. “What are you going to +do?” + +“Let me alone, let me alone--I’ll only tell what I guess--depend upon +it, I guess right--and it may do a great deal of good to tell it to Mrs. +Beaumont, and it will give her a great deal of pleasure--trust me--trust +me.” + +“I do trust _you_--but perhaps you may be mistaken.” + +“Not at all, not at all, depend upon it; so let me go to her this +minute.” + +“But stop, my dear sir,” cried Mr. Beaumont, “stop for another reason; +let me beg you to sit down again--I am not clear that Captain Walsingham +is not at this instant in love with--perhaps, as it is reported, married +to a Spanish lady, whom he has carried off out of a convent at ----, and +whom I understand he is bringing home with him.” + +“Heyday! a Spanish lady!” said Mr. Palmer, returning slowly to his seat +with a fallen countenance. “How’s this?--By St. George, this is unlucky! +But how’s this, I say?” + +“You did not let us finish our story,” said Mr. Beaumont, “or we should +have told you.” + +“Let me hear the end of it now,” said Mr. Palmer, sitting down again, +and preparing himself with several pinches of snuff. But just at this +instant a servant came to say that coffee was ready. + +“I will never stir from this spot for coffee or any thing else,” said +Mr. Palmer, “till I know the history of the Spanish lady.” + +“Then the shortest and best way I have of telling it to you is, to beg +you to read this letter, which contains all I know of the matter,” said +Mr. Beaumont. “This letter is from young Birch to his parents; we have +never heard a syllable directly from Walsingham himself on this subject. +Since he reached Lisbon, we have had no letters from him, except +that short epistle which brought us an account of his taking the +treasure-ship. But we shall see him soon, and know the truth of this +story; and hear whether he prefers his Spanish or his English mistress.” + +“‘Fore George! I wish this Spanish woman had stayed in her convent,” + said Mr. Palmer; “I don’t like runaway ladies. But let us see what this +letter says for her.” + +The letter is the same that Mr. Beaumont read some time ago, therefore +it need not here be inserted. Before Mr. Palmer had finished perusing +it, a second message came to say that the ladies waited tea, and that +Mrs. Beaumont wished not to be late going home, as there was no moon. +Mr. Palmer, nevertheless, finished the letter before he stirred: and +then, with a heavy sigh, he rose and said, “I now wish, more than ever, +that our captain would come home this night, before I go, and clear up +this business. I don’t like this Spanish plot, this double intrigue. Ah, +dear me!--I shall be obliged to sail--I shall be in Jamaica before the +fifth act.” + +“How expectation loads the wings of time!” exclaimed Mrs. Beaumont, +as the gentlemen entered the drawing-room. “Here we have been all +day expecting our dear Captain Walsingham, and the time has seemed so +long!--The only time I ever found long in this house.” + +“I should like to know,” said Mr. Walsingham, after a bow of due +acknowledgment to Mrs. Beaumont for her compliment, “I should like to +know whether time appears to pass more slowly to those that hope, or +those that fear?” + +Mrs. Beaumont handed coffee to Mr. Palmer, without attempting to answer +this question. + +“To those that hope, I should think,” said Mr. Palmer; “for hope long +deferred maketh the heart sick; and time, I can answer for it, passes +most slowly to those who are sick.” + + “‘Slow as the year’s dull circle seems to run, + When the brisk minor pants for twenty-one,’” + +said Mr. Walsingham, smiling, as he looked at young Beaumont. “But I +think it is the mixture of fear with hope that makes time appear to pass +slowly.” + +“And is hope ever free from that mixture?” said Miss Walsingham. “Does +not hope without fear become certainty, and fear without hope despair? +Can hope ever be perfectly free from some mixture of fear?” + +“Oh, dear me! yes, to be sure,” said Miss Hunter; “for hope’s the most +opposite thing that ever was to fear; as different as black and white; +_for_, surely, every body knows that hope is just the contrary to fear; +and when one says, _I hope_, one does not ever mean _I fear_--surely, +you know, Mrs. Beaumont?” + +“I am the worst metaphysician in the world,” said Mrs. Beaumont; “I have +not head enough to analyze my heart.” + +“Nor I neither,” said Miss Hunter: “Heigho!” (very audibly.) + +“Hark!” cried Mr. Beaumont, “I think I hear a horse galloping. It is he! +it is Walsingham!” + +Out ran Beaumont, full speed, to meet his friend; whilst, with, more +sober joy, Mr. Walsingham waited on the steps, where all the company +assembled, Mr. Palmer foremost, with a face full of benevolent pleasure; +Mrs. Beaumont congratulating every body, but nobody listening to her; +luckily for her, all were too heartily occupied with their own feelings +to see how ill her countenance suited her words. The sound of the +galloping of the horse ceased for a minute--then recommenced; but before +it could be settled whether it was coming nearer or going farther away, +Mr. Beaumont returned with a note in his hand. + +“Not Walsingham--only Birch--confound him!” said Mr. Beaumont, out of +breath. “Confound him, what a race I took, and how disappointed I was +when I saw Birch’s face; and yet it is no fault of his, poor lad!” + +“But why did not he come up to the house? Why did not you let us see +him?” said Mr. Walsingham. + +“I could not keep him, he was in such a hurry to go home to his father +and mother, he would only stop to give this note.” + +“From Walsingham? Read, quick.” + +“Plymouth, 5 o’clock, A.M. just landed. + +“Dear friends, I cannot have the pleasure of seeing you, as I had hoped +to do, this day--I am obliged to go to London instantly on business that +must not be delayed--Cannot tell when I can be with you--hope in a few +days--Well and happy, and ever yours, H. WALSINGHAM.” + +All stood silent with looks of disappointment, except Mrs. Beaumont, who +reiterated, “What a pity! What a sad pity! What a disappointment! What a +terrible disappointment!” + +“Business!” said Mr. Beaumont: “curse his business! he should think of +his friends first.” + +“Most likely his business is for his friends,” said Miss Walsingham. + +“That’s right, my dear little defender of the absent,” said Mr. +Walsingham. + +“Business!” repeated Mr. Palmer. “Hum! I like business better than +pleasure--I will be patient, if it is really business that keeps him +away from us.” + +“Depend upon it,” said Miss Walsingham, “nothing but business can keep +him away from us; his pleasure is always at home.” + +“I am thinking,” said Mr. Palmer, drawing Mr. Walsingham aside, “I am +thinking whether he has really brought this Spanish lady home with him, +and what will become of her--of--him, I mean. I wish I was not going to +Jamaica!” + +“Then, my dear sir, where is the necessity of your going?” + +“My health--my health--the physicians say I cannot live in England.” + +Mr. Walsingham, who had but little faith in physicians, laughed, and +exclaimed, “But, my dear sir, when you see so many men alive in England +at this instant, why should you believe in the impossibility of your +living even in this pestiferous country?” + +Mr. Palmer half smiled, felt for his snuff-box, and then replied, “I am +sure I should like to live in England, if my health would let me; but,” + continued he, his face growing longer, and taking the hypochondriac cast +as he pronounced the word, “_but, _Mr. Walsingham, you don’t consider +that my health is really--really--” + +“Really very good, I see,” interrupted Mr. Walsingham, “and I am +heartily glad to see it.” + +“Sir! sir! you do not see it, I assure you. I have a great opinion of +your judgment, but as you are not a physician--” + +“And because I have not taken out my diploma, you think I can neither +see nor understand,” interrupted Mr. Walsingham. “But, nevertheless, +give me leave to feel your pulse.” + +“Do you really understand a pulse?” said Mr. Palmer, baring his wrist, +and sighing. + +“As good a pulse as ever man had,” pronounced Mr. Walsingham. + +“You don’t say so? why the physicians tell me--” + +“Never mind what they tell you--if they told you the _truth_, they’d +tell you they want fees.” + +Mrs. Beaumont, quite startled by the tremendously loud voice in which +Mr. Walsingham pronounced the word _truth_, rose, and rang the bell for +her carriage. + +“Mr. Palmer,” said she, “I am afraid we must run away, for I dread the +night air for invalids.” + +“My good madam, I am at your orders,” answered Mr. Palmer, buttoning +himself up to the chin. + +“Mrs. Beaumont, surely you don’t think this gentleman an invalid?” said +Mr. Walsingham. + +“I only wish he would not think himself such,” replied Mrs. Beaumont. + +“Ah! my dear friends,” said Mr. Palmer, “I really am, I certainly am a +sad--sad--” + +“Hypochondriac,” said Mr. Walsingham. “Pardon me--you are indeed, and +every body is afraid to tell you so but myself.” + +Mrs. Beaumont anxiously looked out of the window to see if her carriage +was come to the door. + +“Hypochondriac! not in the least, my dear sir,” said Mr. Palmer. “If you +were to hear what Dr. ---- and Dr. ---- say of my case, and your own Dr. +Wheeler here, who has a great reputation too--shall I tell you what he +says?” + +In a low voice, Mr. Palmer, holding Mr. Walsingham by the button, +proceeded to recapitulate some of Dr. Wheeler’s prognostics; and at +every pause, Mr. Walsingham turned impatiently, so as almost to twist +off the detaining button, repeating, in the words of the king of Prussia +to his physician, “_C’est un âne! C’est un âne! C’est un âne!_”--“Pshaw! +I don’t understand French,” cried Mr. Palmer, angrily. His warmth +obliged him to think of unbuttoning his coat, which operation (after +stretching his neckcloth to remove an uneasy feeling in his throat) he +was commencing, when Mrs. Beaumont graciously stopped his hand. + +“The carriage is at the door, my dear sir:--instead of unbuttoning your +coat, had not you better put this cambric handkerchief round your throat +before we go into the cold air?” + +Mr. Palmer put it on, as if in defiance of Mr. Walsingham, and followed +Mrs. Beaumont, who led him off in triumph. Before he reached the +carriage-door, however, his anger had spent its harmless force; +and stopping to shake hands with him, Mr. Palmer said, “My good Mr. +Walsingham, I am obliged to you. I am sure you wish me well, and I thank +you for speaking so freely; I love honest friends--but as to my being a +hypochondriac, believe me, you are mistaken!” + +“And as to Dr. Wheeler,” said Mrs. Beaumont, as she drew up the glass +of the carriage, and as they drove from the door, “Dr. Wheeler certainly +does not deserve to be called _un âne,_ for he is a man of whose medical +judgment I have the highest opinion. Though I am sure I am very candid +to acknowledge it in the present case, when his opinion is so much +against my wishes, and all our wishes, and must, I fear, deprive us so +soon of the company of our dear Mr. Palmer.” + +“Why, yes, I must go, I must go to Jamaica,” said Mr. Palmer in a more +determined tone than he had yet spoken on the subject. + +Mrs. Beaumont silently rejoiced; and as her son imprudently went on +arguing in favour of his own wishes, she leaned back in the carriage, +and gave herself up to a pleasing reverie, in which she anticipated the +successful completion of all her schemes. Relieved from the apprehension +that Captain Walsingham’s arrival might disconcert her projects, she +was now still further re-assured by Mr. Palmer’s resolution to sail +immediately. One day more, and she was safe. Let Mr. Palmer but sail +without seeing Captain Walsingham, and this was all Mrs. Beaumont asked +of fortune; the rest her own genius would obtain. She was so absorbed +in thought, that she did not know she was come home, till the carriage +stopped at her door. Sometimes, indeed, her reverie had been interrupted +by Mr. Palmer’s praises of the Walsinghams, and by a conversation which +she heard going on about Captain Walsingham’s life and adventures: +but Captain Walsingham was safe in London; and whilst he was at that +distance, she could bear to hear his eulogium. Having lamented that she +had been deprived of her dear Amelia all this day, and having arranged +her plan of operations for the morrow, Mrs. Beaumont retired to rest. +And even in dreams her genius invented fresh expedients, wrote notes of +apology, or made speeches of circumvention. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +“And now, as oft in some distempered state, On one nice trick depends +the general fate.”--POPE. + + +That old politician, the cardinal of Lorraine, used to say, that “a lie +believed but for one hour doth many times in a nation produce effects of +seven years’ continuance.” At this rate what wonderful effects might +our heroine have produced, had she practised in public life, instead of +confining her genius to family politics! The game seemed now in her own +hands. The day, the important day, on which all her accounts with her +son were to be settled; the day when Mr. Palmer’s will was to be +signed, the last day he was to stay in England, arrived. Mr. Beaumont’s +birthday, his coming of age, was of course hailed with every possible +demonstration of joy. The village bells rang, the tenants were invited +to a dinner and a dance, and an ox was to be roasted whole; and the +preparations for rejoicing were heard all over the house. Mr. Palmer’s +benevolent heart was ever ready to take a share in the pleasures of his +fellow-creatures, especially in the festivities of the lower classes. He +appeared this morning in high good humour. Mrs. Beaumont, with a smile +on her lips, yet with a brow of care, was considering how she could make +pleasure subservient to interest, and how she could get _business_ done +in the midst of the amusements of the day. Most auspiciously did her +day of business begin by Mr. Palmer’s declaring to her that his will was +actually made; that with the exception of certain legacies, he had left +his whole fortune to her during her life, with remainder to her son +and daughter. “By this arrangement,” continued he, “I trust I shall +ultimately serve my good friends the Walsinghams, as I wish: for though +I have not seen as much of that family as I should have been glad to +have done, yet the little I have seen convinces me that they are worthy +people.” + +“The most worthy people upon earth. You know I have the greatest regard +for them,” said Mrs. Beaumont. + +“I am really sorry,” pursued Mr. Palmer, “that I have not been able to +make acquaintance with Captain Walsingham. Mr. Walsingham told me his +whole history yesterday, and it has prepossessed me much in his favour.” + +“He is, indeed, a charming, noble-hearted young hero,” said Mrs. +Beaumont; “and I regret, as much as you do, that you cannot see him +before you leave England.” + +“However,” continued Mr. Palmer, “as I was saying, the Walsinghams will, +I trust, be the better sooner or later by me; for I think I foresee that +Captain Walsingham, if a certain Spanish lady were out of the question, +would propose for Amelia, and would persuade her to give up this foolish +fancy of hers for that baronet.” + +Mrs. Beaumont shook her head, as if she believed this could not possibly +be done. + +“Well, well, if it can’t be, it can’t. The girl’s inclination must not +be controlled. I don’t wonder, however, that you are vexed at missing +such a husband for her as young Walsingham. But, my good madam, we +must make the best of it--let the girl marry her baronet. I have left a +legacy of some thousands to Captain Walsingham, as a token of my esteem +for his character; and I am sure, my dear Mrs. Beaumont, his interests +are in good hands when I leave them in yours. In the mean time, I wish +you, as the representative of my late good friend, Colonel Beaumont, to +enjoy all I have during your life.” + +Mrs. Beaumont poured forth such a profusion of kind and grateful +expressions, that Mr. Palmer was quite disconcerted. “No more of this, +my dear madam, no more of this. But there was something I was going +to say, that has gone out of my head. Oh, it was, that the Walsinghams +will, I think, stand a good chance of being the better for me in another +way.” + +“How?” + +“Why you have seen so much more of them than I have--don’t you, my +dear madam, see that Miss Walsingham has made a conquest of your son? I +thought I was remarkably slow at seeing these things, and yet I saw it.” + +“Miss Walsingham is a prodigious favourite of mine. But you know Edward +is so young, and men don’t like, now-a-days, to marry young,” said Mrs. +Beaumont. + +“Well, let them manage their affairs their own way,” said Mr. Palmer; +“all I wish upon earth is to see them happy, or rather to hear of their +happiness, for I shall not see it you know in Jamaica.” + +“Alas!” said Mrs. Beaumont, in a most affectionate tone, and with a sigh +that seemed to come from her heart; “alas! that is such a melancholy +thought.” + +Mr. Palmer ended the conversation by inquiring whom he had best ask +to witness his will. Mrs. Beaumont proposed Captain Lightbody and Dr. +Wheeler. The doctor was luckily in the house, for he had been sent for +this morning, to see her poor Amelia, who had caught cold yesterday, and +had a slight feverish complaint. + +This was perfectly true. The anxiety that Amelia had suffered +of late--the fear of being forced or ensnared to marry a man she +disliked--apprehensions about the Spanish incognita, and at last the +certainty that Captain Walsingham would not arrive before Mr. Palmer +should have left England, and that consequently the hopes she had formed +from this benevolent friend’s interference were vain--all these things +had overpowered Amelia; she had passed a feverish night, and was really +ill. Mrs. Beaumont at any other time would have been much alarmed; for, +duplicity out of the question, she was a fond mother: but she now was +well contented that her daughter should have a day’s confinement to her +room, for the sake of keeping her safe out of the way. So leaving poor +Amelia to her feverish thoughts, we proceed with the business of the +day. + +Dr. Wheeler, Captain Lightbody, and Mr. Twigg witnessed the will; it was +executed, and a copy of it deposited with Mrs. Beaumont. This was one +great point gained. The next object was her jointure. She had employed +her convenient tame man[3], Captain Lightbody, humbly to suggest to her +son, that some increase of jointure would be proper; and she was now in +anxiety to know how these hints, and others which had been made by more +remote means, would operate. As she was waiting to see Mr. Lightbody +in her dressing-room, to hear the result of his _suggestions_, the door +opened. + +“Well, Lightbody! come in--what success?” + +She stopped short, for it was not Captain Lightbody, it was her son. +Without taking any notice of what she said, he advanced towards her, and +presented a deed. + +“You will do me the favour, mother, to accept of this addition to your +jointure,” said he. “It was always my intention to do this, the moment +it should be in my power; and I had flattered myself that you would not +have thought it necessary to suggest to me what I knew I ought to do, or +to hint to me your wishes by any intermediate person.” + +Colouring deeply, for it hurt her conscience to be found out, Mrs. +Beaumont was upon the point of disavowing her emissary, but she +recollected that the words which she had used when her son was coming +into the room might have betrayed her. On the other hand, it was not +certain that he had heard them. She hesitated. From the shame of a +disavowal, which would have answered no purpose, but to sink her lower +in her son’s opinion, she was, however, saved by his abrupt sincerity. + +“Don’t say any thing more about it, dear mother,” cried he, “but pardon +me the pain I have given you at a time when indeed I wished only to give +pleasure. Promise me, that in future you will let me know your wishes +directly, and from your own lips.” + +“Undoubtedly--depend upon it, my dearest son. I am quite overpowered. +The fact was, that I could not, however really and urgently necessary +it was to me, bring myself to mention with my own lips what, as a direct +request from me, I knew you could not and would not refuse, however +inconvenient it might be to you to comply. On this account, and on this +account only, I wished you not to know my wants from myself, but from an +intermediate friend.” + +“Friend!”--Mr. Beaumont could not help repeating with an emphasis of +disdain. + +“_Friend_, I only said by courtesy; but I wished you to know my wants +from an intermediate person, that you might not feel yourself in any way +bound, or called upon, and that the refusal might be implied and tacit, +as it were, so that it could lead to no unpleasant feelings between us.” + +“Ah! my dear mother,” said Mr. Beaumont, “I have not your knowledge +of the world, or of human nature; but from all I have heard, seen, +and felt, I am convinced that more unpleasant feelings are created in +families, by these false delicacies, and managements, and hints, and +go-between friends by courtesy, than ever would have been caused by the +parties speaking directly to one another, and telling the plain truth +about their thoughts and wishes. Forgive me if I speak too plainly at +this moment; as we are to live together, I hope, many years, it may +spare us many an unhappy hour.” + +Mrs. Beaumont wiped her eyes. Her son found it difficult to go on, and +yet, upon his own principles, it was right to proceed. + +“Amelia, ma’am! I find she is ill this morning.” + +“Yes--poor child!” + +“I hope, mother--” + +“Since,” interrupted Mrs. Beaumont, “my dear son wishes always to +hear from me the plain and direct truth, I must tell him, that, as the +guardian of his sister, I think myself accountable to no one for +my conduct with respect to her; and that I should look upon any +interference as an unkind and unjustifiable doubt of my affection for my +daughter. Rest satisfied with this assurance, that her happiness is, in +all I do, my first object; and as I have told her a thousand times, no +force shall be put on her inclinations.” + +“I have no more to say, no more to ask,” said Mr. Beaumont. “This is a +distinct, positive declaration, in which I will confide, and, in future, +not suffer appearances to alarm me. A mother would not keep the word of +promise to the ear, and break it to the hope.” + +Mrs. Beaumont, feeling herself change countenance, made an attempt to +blow her nose, and succeeded in hiding her face with her handkerchief. + +“With respect to myself,” continued Mr. Beaumont, “I should also say, +lest you should be in any doubt concerning my sentiments, that though I +have complied with your request to delay for a few weeks--” + +“_That_ you need not repeat, my dear,” interrupted Mrs. Beaumont. “I +understand all that perfectly.” + +“Then at the end of this month I shall--and, I hope, with your entire +approbation, propose for Miss Walsingham.” + +“Time enough,” said Mrs. Beaumont, smiling, and tapping her son +playfully on the shoulder, “time enough to talk of that when the end of +the month comes. How often have I seen young men like you change their +minds, and fall in and out of love in the course of one short month! +At any rate,” continued Mrs. Beaumont, “let us pass to the order of the +day; for we have time enough to settle other matters; but the order of +the day--a tiresome one, I confess--is to settle accounts.” + +“I am ready--” + +“So am I.” + +“Then let us go with the accounts to Mr. Palmer, who is also ready, I am +sure.” + +“But, before we go,” said Mrs. Beaumont, whispering, “let us settle what +is to be said about the debts--_your_ debts you know. I fancy you’ll +agree with me, that the less is said about this the better; and that, in +short, the best will be to say nothing.” + +“Why so, madam? Surely you don’t think I mean to conceal my debts from +our friend Mr. Palmer, at the very moment when I profess to tell him all +my affairs, and to settle accounts with him and you, as my guardians!” + +“With him? But he has never acted, you know, as one of the guardians; +therefore you are not called upon to settle accounts with him.” + +“Then why, ma’am, did you urge him to come down from London, to be +present at the settlement of these accounts?” + +“As a compliment, and because I wish him to be present, as your father’s +friend; but it is by no means essential that he should know every +detail.” + +“I will do whichever you please, ma’am; I will either settle accounts +with or without him.” + +“Oh! _with_ him, that is, in his presence, to be sure.” + +“Then he must know the whole.” + +“Why so? Your having contracted such debts will alter his opinion of +your prudence and of mine, and may, perhaps, essentially alter--alter--” + +“His will? Be it so; that is the worst that can happen. As far as I am +concerned, I would rather a thousand times it were so, than deceive him +into a better opinion of me than I deserve.” + +“Nobly said! so like yourself, and like every thing I could wish: but, +forgive me, if I did for you, what indeed I would not wish you to do for +yourself. I have already told Mr. Palmer that you had no embarrassments; +therefore, you cannot, and I am sure would not, unsay what I have said.” + +Mr. Beaumont stood fixed in astonishment. + +“But why, mother, did not you tell him the whole?” + +“My dear love, delicacy prevented me. He offered to relieve you from +any embarrassments, if you had any; but I, having too much delicacy and +pride to let my son put himself under pecuniary obligations, hastily +answered, that you had no debts; for there was no other reply to be +made, without offending poor Palmer, and hurting his generous feelings, +which I would not do for the universe: and I considered too, that as all +Palmer’s fortune will come to us in the end--” + +“Well, ma’am,” interrupted Mr. Beaumont, impatient of all these glosses +and excuses, “the plain state of the case is, that I cannot contradict +what my mother has said; therefore I will not settle accounts at all +with Mr. Palmer.” + +“And what excuse _can_ I make to him, after sending for him express from +London?” + +“That I must leave to you, mother.” + +“And what reason _can_ I give for thus withdrawing our family-confidence +from such an old friend, and at the very moment when he is doing so much +for us all?” + +“That I must leave to you, mother. I withdraw no confidence. I have +pretended none--I will break none.” + +“Good Heavens! was not all I did and said for _your_ interest?” + +“Nothing can be for my interest that is not for my honour, and for +yours, mother. But let us never go over the business again. Now to the +order of the day.” + +“My dear, dear son,” said Mrs. Beaumont, “don’t speak so roughly, so +cruelly to me.” + +Suddenly softened, by seeing the tears standing in his mother’s eyes, he +besought her pardon for the bluntness of his manner, and expressed his +entire belief in her affection and zeal for his interests; but, on +the main point, that he would not deceive Mr. Palmer, or directly or +indirectly assert a falsehood, Mr. Beaumont was immoveable. In the midst +of her entreaties a message came from Mr. Palmer, to say that he was +waiting for the accounts, which Mrs. Beaumont wished to settle. “Well,” + said she, much perplexed, “well, come down to him--come, for it is +impossible for me to find any excuse after sending for him from +London; he would think there was something worse than there really is. +Stay--I’ll go down first, and sound him; and if it won’t do without the +accounts, do you come when I ring the bell; then all I have for it is +to run my chance. Perhaps he may never recollect what passed about your +debts, for the dear good old soul has not the best memory in the world; +and if he should obstinately remember, why, after all, it’s only a bit +of false delicacy, and a white lie for a friend and a son, and we can +colour it.” + +Down went Mrs. Beaumont to sound Mr. Palmer; but though much might +be expected from her address, yet she found it unequal to the task of +convincing this gentleman’s plain good sense that it would fatigue him +to see those accounts, which he came so many miles on purpose to +settle. Perceiving him begin to waken to the suspicion that she had some +interest in suppressing the accounts, and hearing him, in an altered +tone, ask, “Madam, is there any mystery in these accounts, that I must +not see them?” she instantly rang the bell, and answered, “Oh, none; +none in the world; only we thought--that is, I feared it might fatigue +you too much, my dear friend, just the day before your journey, and I +was unwilling to lose so many hours of your good company; but since you +are so very kind--here’s my son and the papers.” + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + _“A face untaught to feign; a judging eye, + That darts severe upon a rising lie, + And strikes a blush through frontless flattery.”_ + +To the settlement of accounts they sat down in due form; and it so +happened, that though this dear good old soul had not the best memory +in the world, yet he had an obstinate recollection of every word Mrs. +Beaumont had said about her son’s having no debts or embarrassments. +And great and unmanageable was his astonishment, when the truth came +to light. “It is not,” said he, turning to Mr. Beaumont, “that I am +astonished at your having debts; I am sorry for that, to be sure; +but young men are often a little extravagant or so, and I dare +say--particularly as you are so candid and make no excuses about it--I +dare say you will be more prudent in future, and give up the race-horses +as you promise. But--why did not Madam Beaumont tell me the truth? Why +make a mystery, when I wanted nothing but to serve my friends? It was +not using me well--it was not using yourself well. Madam, madam, I am +vexed to the heart, and would not for a thousand pounds--ay, fool as I +am, not for ten thousand pounds, this had happened to me from my good +friend the colonel’s widow--a man that would as soon have cut his hand +off. Oh, madam! Madam Beaumont! you have struck me a hard blow at my +time of life. Any thing but this I could have borne; but to have one’s +confidence and old friendships shaken at my time of life!” + +Mrs. Beaumont was, in her turn, in unfeigned astonishment; for Mr. +Palmer took the matter more seriously, and seemed more hurt by this +discovery of a trifling deviation from truth, than she had foreseen, or +than she could have conceived to be possible, in a case where neither +his interest nor any one of his passions was concerned. It was in +vain that she palliated and explained, and talked of delicacy, and +generosity, and pride, and maternal feelings, and the feelings of a +friend, and all manner of fine and double-refined sentiments; still +Mr. Palmer’s sturdy plain sense could not be made to comprehend that a +falsehood is not a falsehood, or that deceiving a friend is using him +well. Her son suffered for her, as his countenance and his painful and +abashed silence plainly showed. + +“And does not even my son say any thing for me? Is this friendly?” said +she, unable to enter into his feelings, and thinking that the part of +a friend was to make apologies, right or wrong.--Mr. Palmer shook hands +with Mr. Beaumont, and, without uttering a syllable, they understood one +another perfectly. Mr. Beaumont left the room; and Mrs. Beaumont burst +into tears. Mr. Palmer, with great good-nature, tried to assuage that +shame and compunction which he imagined that she felt. He observed, +that, to be sure, she must feel mortified and vexed with herself, but +that he was persuaded nothing but some mistaken notion of delicacy could +have led her to do what her principles must condemn. Immediately she +said all that she saw would please Mr. Palmer; and following the lead +of his mind, she at last confirmed him in the opinion, that this was an +accidental not an habitual deviation from truth. His confidence in her +was broken, but not utterly destroyed. + +“As to the debt,” resumed Mr. Palmer, “do not let that give you a +moment’s concern; I will put that out of the question in a few minutes. +My share in the cargo of the Anne, which I see is just safely arrived in +the Downs, will more than pay this debt. Your son shall enter upon his +estate unencumbered. No, no--don’t thank me; I won’t cheat you of your +thanks; it is your son must thank me for this. I do it on his account. +I like the young man. There is an ingenuousness, an honourable frankness +about him, that I love. Instead of his bond for the money, I shall +ask his promise never to have any thing more to do with race-horses or +Newmarket; and his promise I shall think as good as if it were his bond. +Now I am not throwing money away; I’m not doing an idle ostentatious +thing, but one that may, and I hope will, be essentially useful. For, +look you here, my good--look here, Mrs. Beaumont: a youth who finds +himself encumbered with debt on coming to his estate is apt to think of +freeing himself by marrying a fortune instead of a woman; now instead of +freeing a man, this fetters him for life: and what sort of a friend must +that be, who, if he could prevent it, would let this be done for a few +thousand pounds? So I’ll go before I take another pinch of snuff, and +draw him an order upon the cargo of the Anne, lest I should forget it +in the hurry of packing and taking leave, and all those uncomfortable +things.” + +He left _Madam_ Beaumont to her feelings, or her reflections; and, in +a few minutes, with an order for the money in his hand, went over +the house in search of his young friend. Mr. Beaumont came out of his +sister’s room on hearing himself called. + +“Here,” said Mr. Palmer, “is a little business for you to do. Read this +order over; see that it is right, and endorse it--mind--and never let +me hear one word more about it--only by way of acknowledgment--ask your +mother what you are to give me. But don’t read it till you are out of my +sight--Is Amelia up? Can I see her?” + +“Yes; up and in her dressing-room. Do, dear sir, go in and see her, for +my mother says she is too feverish to leave her room to-day; but I am +sure that it will make her ten times worse to be prevented from seeing +you the last day you are with us.” + +“Does the little gipsy then care so much for me?--that’s fair; for I +am her friend, and will prove it to her, by giving up my own fancies to +hers: so trust me with her, _tête-à-tête_,--young gentleman; go off, if +you please, and do your own business.” + +Mr. Palmer knocked at Amelia’s door, and fancying he heard an answer of +admittance, went in. + +“Oh, Mr. Palmer, my good Mr. Palmer, is it you?” + +“Yes; but you seem not above half to know whether you are glad or sorry +to see your good Mr. Palmer; for while you hold out your hand, you turn +away your face from me.--Dear, dear! what a burning hand, and how the +pulse goes and flutters! What does Dr. Wheeler say to this? I am a bit +of a physician myself--let me look at you. What’s this? eyes as red +as ferret’s--begging your eyes’ pardon, young lady--What’s this about? +Come,” said he, drawing a chair and sitting down close beside her, “no +mysteries--no mysteries--I hate mysteries--besides, we have not time for +them. Consider, I go to-morrow, and have all my shirts to pack up: ay, +smile, lady, as your father used to do; and open your whole heart to me, +as he always did. Consider me as an old friend.” + +“I do consider you as a sincere, excellent friend,” said Amelia; “but--” + Amelia knew that she could not explain herself without disobeying, and +perhaps betraying, her mother. + +“No _buts_,” said Mr. Palmer, taking hold of her hand. “Come, my little +Amelia, before you have put that ring on and off your pretty finger +fifty times more, tell me whom you would wish to put a ring on this +finger for life?” + +“Ah! that is the thing _I cannot_ tell you!” said Amelia. “Were I alone +concerned, I would tell you every thing; but--ask me no more, I cannot +tell you the whole truth.” + +“Then there’s something wrong somewhere or other. Whenever people tell +me they cannot speak the truth, I always say, then there’s something +wrong. Give me leave, Amelia, to ask--” + +“Don’t question me,” said Amelia: “talk to my mother. I don’t know how I +ought to answer you.” + +“_Not know how!_ ‘Fore George! this is strange! A strange house, +where one can’t get at the simplest truth without a world of +difficulty--mother and daughter all alike; not one of ‘em but the son +can, for the soul of ‘em, give a plain answer to a plain question. _Not +know how!_ as if it was a science to tell the truth. Not know how! as +if a person could not talk to me, honest old Richard Palmer, +without _knowing how!_ as if it was how to baffle a lawyer on a +cross-examination--_Not know how_ to answer one’s own friend! Ah! this +is not the way your father and I used to go on, Miss Beaumont. Nay, nay, +don’t cry now, or that will finish oversetting the little temper I have +left, for I can’t bear to see a woman cry, especially a young woman like +you; it breaks my heart, old as it is, and fool that I am, that ought +to know your sex better by this time than to let a few tears drown my +common sense. Well, young lady, be that as it may, since you won’t tell +me your mind, I must tell you your mind, for I happen to know it--Yes, I +do--your mother bid me spare your delicacy, and I would, but that I have +not time; besides, I don’t understand, nor see what good is got, but +a great deal of mischief, by these cursed new-fashioned delicacies: +wherefore, in plain English, I tell you, I don’t like Sir John Hunter, +and I do like Captain Walsingham; and I did wish you married to Captain +Walsingham--you need not start so, for I say _did_--I don’t wish it now; +for since your heart is set upon Sir John Hunter, God forbid I should +want to give Captain Walsingham a wife without a heart. So I have only +to add, that notwithstanding my own fancy or judgment, I have done my +best to persuade your mother to let you have the man, or the baronet, of +your choice. I will go farther: I’ll make it a point with her, and bring +you both together; for there’s no other way, I see, of understanding +you; and get a promise of her consent; and then I hope I shall leave you +all satisfied, and without any mysteries. And, in the mean time,” added +Mr. Palmer, taking out of his coat pocket a morocco leather case, and +throwing it down on the table before Amelia, “every body should be made +happy their own way: there are some diamonds for Lady Hunter, and God +bless you.” + +“Oh, sir, stay!” cried Amelia, rising eagerly; “dear, good Mr. Palmer, +keep your diamonds, and leave me your esteem and love.” + +“That I can’t, unless you speak openly to me. It is out of nature. Don’t +kneel--don’t. God bless you! young lady, you have my pity; for indeed,” + turning and looking at her, “you seem very miserable, and look very +sincere.” + +“If my mother was here!--I _must_ see my mother,” exclaimed Amelia. + +“Where’s the difficulty? I’ll go for her this instant,” said Mr. Palmer, +who was not a man to let a romance trail on to six volumes for want of +going six yards; or for want of somebody’s coming into a room at the +right minute for explanation; or from some of those trivial causes by +which adepts contrive to delude us at the very moment of expectation. +Whilst Mr. Palmer was going for Mrs. Beaumont, Amelia waited in terrible +anxiety. The door was open; and as she looked into the gallery which +led to her room, she saw Mr. Palmer and her mother as they came along, +talking together. Knowing every symptom of suppressed passion in her +mother’s countenance, she was quite terrified, by indications which +passed unnoticed by Mr. Palmer. As her mother approached, Amelia hid +her face in her hands for a moment, but gaining courage from the +consciousness of integrity, and from a determination to act openly, +she looked up; and, rising with dignity, said, in a gentle but firm +voice--“Mother, I hope you will not think that there is any impropriety +in my speaking to our friend, Mr. Palmer, with the same openness with +which I have always spoken to you?” + +“My dear child,” interrupted Mrs. Beaumont, embracing Amelia with a +sudden change of manner and countenance, “my sweet child, I have tried +you to the utmost; forgive me; all your trials now are over, and you +must allow me the pleasure of telling our excellent friend, Mr. Palmer, +what I know will delight him almost as much as it delights me--that the +choice of Amelia’s heart, Mr. Palmer, is worthy of her, just what we all +wished.” + +“Captain Walsingham?” exclaimed Mr. Palmer, with joyful astonishment. + +“Sit down, my love,” said Mrs. Beaumont, seating Amelia, who, from the +surprise at this sudden change in her mother, and from the confusion of +feelings which overwhelmed her at this moment, was near fainting: “we +are too much for her, I have been too abrupt,” continued Mrs. Beaumont: +“Open the window, will you, my good sir? and,” whispering, “let us not +say any more to her at present; you see it won’t do.” + +“I am well, quite well again, now,” said Amelia, exerting herself. +“Don’t leave, don’t forsake me, Mr. Palmer; pray don’t go,” holding out +her hand to Mr. Palmer. + +“My dear Amelia,” said Mrs. Beaumont, “don’t talk, don’t exert yourself; +pray lie still on the sofa.” + +“Her colour is come back; she looks like herself again,” said Mr. +Palmer, seating himself beside her, regardless of Mrs. Beaumont’s +prohibitory looks. “Since my little Amelia wished me to stay, I’ll not +go. So, my child--but I won’t hurry you--only want one sign of the head +to confirm the truth of what your mother has just told me, for nobody +can tell what passes in a young lady’s heart but herself. So then, it +is not that sprig of quality, that selfish spendthrift, that Sir John +Hunter, who has your heart--hey?” + +“No, no, no,” answered Amelia; “I never did, I never could like such a +man!” + +“Why, I thought not--I thought it was impossible; but--” + +Mrs. Beaumont, alarmed beyond conception, suddenly put her hand before +Mr. Palmer’s mouth, to prevent him from finishing his sentence, and +exposing the whole of her shameful duplicity to her daughter. + +“Absolutely I must, and do hereby interpose my maternal authority, and +forbid all agitating explanations whilst Amelia is in her present state. +Dr. Wheeler says she is terribly feverish. Come, Mr. Palmer, I must +carry you off by force, and from me you shall have all the explanations +and all the satisfaction you can require.” + +“Well,” said Mr. Palmer, “good bye for the present, my little Amelia, +my darling little Amelia! I am so delighted to find that Captain +Walsingham’s the man, and so glad you have no mysteries: be well, be +well soon. I am so pleased, so happy, that I am as unruly as a child, +and as easily managed. You see, how I let myself be turned out of the +room.” + +“Not turned out, only carried out,” said Mrs. Beaumont, who never, even +in the most imminent perils, lost her polite presence of mind. Having +thus carried off Mr. Palmer, she was in hopes that, in the joyful +confusion of his mind, he would he easily satisfied with any plausible +explanation. Therefore she dexterously fixed his attention on the +future, and adverted as slightly as possible to the past. + +“Now, my good sir, congratulate me,” said she, “on the prospect I have +of happiness in such a son-in-law as Captain Walsingham, if it be indeed +true that Captain Walsingham is really attached to Amelia. But, on the +other hand, what shall we do if there is any truth in the story of the +Spanish lady? Oh, there’s the difficulty! Between hope and fear, I am in +such a distracted state at this moment, I hardly know what I say. What +shall we do about the Spanish lady?” + +“Do, my dear madam! we can do nothing at all in that case: but I will +hope the best, and you’ll see that he will prove a constant man at last. +In the mean time, how was all that about Sir John Hunter, and what are +you to do with him?” + +“Leave that to me; I will settle all that,” cried Mrs. Beaumont. + +“But I hope the poor man, though I don’t like him, has not been jilted?” + +“No, by no means; Amelia’s incapable of that. You know she told you just +now that she never liked him.” + +“Ay; but I think, madam, you told me, that she _did_,” said Mr. Palmer, +sticking to his point with a decided plainness, which quite disconcerted +Mrs. Beaumont. + +“It was all a mistake,” said she, “quite a mistake; and I am sure you +rejoice with me that it was so: and, as to the rest--past blunders, like +past misfortunes, are good for nothing but to be forgotten.” + +Observing that Mr. Palmer looked dissatisfied, Mrs. Beaumont continued +apologizing. “I confess you have to all appearance some cause to be +angry with me,” said she: “but now only hear me. Taking the blame upon +myself, let me candidly tell you the whole truth, and all my reasons, +foolish perhaps as they were. Captain Walsingham behaved so honourably, +and had such command over his feelings, that I, who am really the most +credulous creature in the world, was so completely deceived, that I +fancied he never had a thought of Amelia, and that he never would think +of her; and I own this roused both my pride and my prudence for my +daughter; and I certainly thought it my duty, as her mother, to do +every thing in my power to discourage in her young and innocent heart +a hopeless passion. It was but within these few hours that I have +been undeceived by you as to his sentiments. That, of course, made an +immediate change, as you have seen, in my measures; for such is my high +opinion of the young man, and indeed my desire to be connected with the +Walsinghams is so great, that even whilst I am in total ignorance of +what the amount or value may be of this prize that he has taken, and +even whilst I am in doubt concerning this Spanish incognita, I have not +hesitated to declare, perhaps imprudently, to Amelia, as you have just +heard, my full approbation of the choice of her heart.” + +“Hum!--well--hey!--How’s this?” said Mr. Palmer to himself, as he tried +to believe and to be satisfied with this apology. “Madam,” said he +aloud to Mrs. Beaumont, “I comprehend that it might not be prudent to +encourage Amelia’s partiality for Captain Walsingham till you were +sure of the young man’s sentiments; but, excuse me, I am a very slow, +unpractised man in these matters; I don’t yet understand why you told +_me_ that she was in love with Sir John Hunter?” + +Mrs. Beaumont, being _somewhat in the habit of self-contradiction_, was +seldom unprovided with a concordance of excuses; but at this unlucky +moment she was found unprepared. Hesitating she stood, all subtle as she +was, deprived of ready wit, and actually abashed in the presence of a +plain good man. + +“I candidly confess, my dear sir,” said she, apologizing to Mr. Palmer +as he walked up and down, “that my delicacy or pride,--call it what you +will,--my false pride for my daughter, led me into an error. I could not +bring myself to acknowledge to any man, even to you--for you know that +it’s contrary quite to the principles and pride of our sex--that she +felt any partiality for a man who had shown none for her. You must be +sensible it was, to say no more, an awkward, mortifying thing; and I +was so afraid even of your finding it out, that--forgive me--I did, I +candidly acknowledge, fabricate the foolish story of Sir John Hunter. +But, believe me, I never seriously thought of her marrying him.” + +“‘Fore George! I don’t understand one word of it from beginning to end,” + said Mr. Palmer, speaking aloud to himself. + +Regardless of the profusion of words which Mrs. Beaumont continued +pouring forth, he seated himself in an arm-chair, and, deep in reverie +for some minutes, went on slowly striking his hands together, as he +leaned with his arms on his knees. At length he rose, rang the bell, and +said to the servant, “Sir, be so obliging as to let my man Crichton know +that he need not hurry himself to pack up my clothes, for I shall not go +to-morrow.” + +Struck with consternation at these words, Mrs. Beaumont, nevertheless, +commanded the proper expression of joy on the occasion. “Delightful! +I must go this instant,” cried she, “and be the first to tell this +charming news to Amelia and Edward.” + +“Tell them, then, madam, if you please, that I have gained such a +conquest over what Mr. Walsingham calls my hypochondriacism, that I am +determined, at whatever risk, to stay another year in Old England, and +that I hope to be present at both their weddings.” + +Mrs. Beaumont’s quick exit was at this moment necessary to conceal her +dismay. Instead of going to Amelia, she hurried to her own room, locked +the door, and sat down to compose her feelings and to collect her +thoughts; but scarcely had she been two minutes in her apartment, when +a messenger came to summon her to the festive scene in the park. The +tenants and villagers were all at dinner, and Mr. Beaumont sent to let +her know that they were waiting to drink her health. She was obliged to +go, and to appear all radiant with pleasure. The contrast between their +honest mirth and her secret sufferings was great. She escaped as soon as +she could from their _senseless_ joy, and again shut herself up in her +own room. + +This sudden and totally unexpected resolution of Mr. Palmer’s so +astonished her, that she could scarcely believe she had heard or +understood his words rightly. Artful persons may, perhaps, calculate +with expertness and accuracy what will, in any given case, be the +determinations of the selfish and the interested; but they are liable to +frequent mistakes in judging of the open-hearted and the generous: there +is no sympathy to guide them, and all their habits tend to mislead them +in forming opinions of the direct and sincere. It had never entered into +Mrs. Beaumont’s imagination that Mr. Palmer would, notwithstanding +his belief that he hazarded his life by so doing, defer a whole year +returning to Jamaica, merely to secure the happiness of her son and +daughter. She plainly saw that he now suspected her dislike to the +Walsinghams, and her aversion to the double union with that family: she +saw that the slightest circumstance in her conduct, which confirmed his +suspicions, would not only utterly ruin her in his opinion, but might +induce him to alter that part of his will which left her sole possessor +of his fortune during her life. Bad as her affairs were at this moment, +she knew that they might still be worse. She recollected the letter +of _perfect approbation_ which Sir John Hunter had in his power. She +foresaw that he would produce this letter on the first rumour of her +favouring another lover for Amelia. She had just declared to Mr. Palmer, +that she never seriously thought of Sir John Hunter for her daughter; +and, should this letter be brought to light, she must be irremediably +convicted of the basest duplicity, and there would be no escape from the +shame of falsehood, or rather the disgrace of detection. In this grand +difficulty, Mrs. Beaumont was too good a politician to waste time upon +any inferior considerations. Instead of allowing herself leisure to +reflect that all her present difficulties arose from her habits of +insincerity, she, with the true spirit of intrigue, attributed her +disappointments to some deficiency of artifice. “Oh!” said she to +herself, “why did I _write?_ I should only have _spoken_ to Sir John. +How could I be so imprudent as to _commit_ myself by writing? But what +can be done to repair this error?” + +One web destroyed, she, with indefatigable subtlety, began to weave +another. With that promptitude of invention which practice alone can +give, she devised a scheme, by which she hoped not only to prevent Sir +John Hunter from producing the written proof of her duplicity, but by +which she could also secure the reversionary title, and the great Wigram +estate. The nature of the scheme shall be unfolded in the next chapter; +and it will doubtless procure for Mrs. Beaumont, from all proper +judges, a just tribute of admiration. They will allow our heroine to +be possessed not only of that address, which is the peculiar glory +of female politicians, but also of that masculine quality, which the +greatest, wisest, of mankind has pronounced to be the first, second, and +third requisite for business--“Boldness--boldness--boldness.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +“The creature’s at her dirty work again.”--POPE. + + +Amongst the infinite petty points of cunning of which that great +practical philosopher Bacon has in vain essayed to make out a list, +he notes that, “Because it worketh better when any thing seemeth to be +gotten from you by question than if you offer it of yourself: you may +lay a bait for a question, by showing another visage and countenance +than you are wont, to the end to give occasion to the party to ask what +the matter is of the change.” + +“What is the matter, my dearest Mrs. Beaumont? I never saw you look so +sad before in all my life,” said Miss Hunter, meeting Mrs. Beaumont, who +had walked out into the park on purpose to be so met, and in hopes of +having the melancholy of her countenance thus observed. It was the more +striking, and the more unseasonable, from its contrast with the gay +scene in the park. The sound of music was heard, and the dancing had +begun, and all was rural festivity: “What is the matter, my dearest Mrs. +Beaumont?” repeated Miss Hunter; “at such a time as this to see you look +so melancholy!” + +“Ah! my love! such a sad change in affairs! But,” whispered Mrs. +Beaumont, “I cannot explain myself before your companion.” + +Mr. Lightbody was walking with Miss Hunter: but he was so complaisant, +that he was easily despatched on some convenient errand; and then Mrs. +Beaumont, with all her wonted delicacy of circumlocution, began to +communicate her distress to her young friend. + +“You know, my beloved Albina,” said she, “it has been my most ardent +wish that your brother should be connected with my family by the nearest +and dearest ties.” + +“Yes; that is, married to Amelia,” said Miss Hunter. “And has any thing +happened to prevent it?” + +“Oh, my dear! it is all over! It cannot be--must not be thought of--must +not be spoken of any more; Mr. Palmer has been outrageous about it. Such +a scene as I have had! and all to no purpose. Amelia has won him over to +her party. Only conceive what I felt--she declared, beyond redemption, +her preference of Captain Walsingham.” + +“Before the captain proposed for her! How odd! dear! Suppose he should +never propose for her, what a way she will be in after affronting my +brother and all! And only think! she gives up the title, and the great +Wigram estate, and every thing. Why, my brother says, uncle Wigram can’t +live three months; and Lord Puckeridge’s title, too, will come to my +brother, you know; and Amelia might have been Lady Puckeridge. Only +think! did you ever know any thing so foolish?” + +“Never!” said Mrs. Beaumont; “but you know, my dear, so few girls have +the sense you show in taking advice: they all will judge for themselves. +But I’m most hurt by Amelia’s want of gratitude and delicacy towards +_me_,” continued Mrs. Beaumont; “only conceive the difficulty and +distress in which she has left me about your poor brother. Such a shock +as the disappointment will be to him! And he may--though Heaven knows +how little I deserve it--he may suspect--for men, when they are vexed +and angry, will, you know, suspect even their best friends; he might, I +say, suspect me of not being warm in his cause.” + +“Dear, no! I have always told him how kind you were, and how much you +wished the thing; and of all people in the world he can’t blame you, +dearest Mrs. Beaumont.” + +At this instant Mrs. Beaumont saw a glimpse of somebody in a bye-path +of the shrubbery near them. “Hush! Take care! Who is that lurking there? +Some listener! Who can it be?” + +Miss Hunter applied her glass to her eye, but could not make out who it +was. + +“It is Lightbody, I declare,” said Mrs. Beaumont. “Softly,--let us not +pretend to see him, and watch what he will do. It is of the greatest +consequence to me to know whether he is a listener or not; so much as he +is about the house.” + +An irresistible fit of giggling, which seized Miss Hunter at the odd +way in which Lightbody walked, prevented Mrs. Beaumont’s trial of his +curiosity. At the noise which the young lady made, Mr. Lightbody turned +his head, and immediately advancing, with his accustomed mixture of +effrontery and servility, said, that “he had executed Mrs. Beaumont’s +commands, and that he had returned in hopes of getting a moment to say a +word to her when she was at leisure, about something he had just learned +from Mr. Palmer’s man Crichton, which it was of consequence she should +know without delay.” + +“Oh, thank you, you best of creatures; but I know all that already.” + +“You know that Mr. Palmer does not go to-morrow?” + +“Yes; and am so rejoiced at it! Do, my dear Lightbody, go to Amelia and +my son from me, and tell them that charming news. And after that, pray +have the compassion to inquire if the post is not come in yet, and run +over the papers, to see if you can find any thing about Walsingham’s +prize.” + +Mr. Lightbody obeyed, but not with his usual alacrity. Mrs. Beaumont +mused for a moment, and then said, “I do believe he was listening. What +could he be doing there?” + +“Doing!--Oh, nothing,” said Miss Hunter: “he’s never doing any thing, +you know; and as to listening, he was so far off he could not hear a +word we said: besides, he is such a simple creature, and loves you so!” + +“I don’t know,” said Mrs. Beaumont; “he either did not play me fair, or +else he did a job I employed him in this morning so awkwardly, that I +never wish to employ him again. He is but a _low_ kind of person, after +all; I’ll get rid of him: that sort of people always grow tiresome and +troublesome after a time, and one must shake them off. But I have not +leisure to think of him now--Well, my dear, to go on with what I was +saying to you.” + +Mrs. Beaumont went on talking of her friendship for Sir John Hunter, +and of the difficulty of appeasing him; but observing that Miss Hunter +listened only with forced attention, she paused to consider what this +could mean. Habitually suspicious, like all insincere people, Mrs. +Beaumont now began to imagine that there was some plot carrying on +against her by Sir John Hunter and Lightbody, and that Miss Hunter +was made use of against her. Having a most contemptible opinion of her +Albina’s understanding, and knowing that her young friend had too little +capacity to be able to deceive her, or to invent a plausible excuse +impromptu, Mrs. Beaumont turned quick, and exclaimed, “My dear, what +could Lightbody be saying to you when I came up?--for I remember he +stopped short, and you both looked so guilty.” + +“Guilty! did I?--Did he?--Dearest Mrs. Beaumont, don’t look at me so +with your piercing eyes!--Oh! I vow and protest I can’t tell you; I +won’t tell you.” + +The young lady tittered, and twisted herself into various affected +attitudes; then kissing Mrs. Beaumont, and then turning her back with +childish playfulness, she cried, “No, I won’t tell you; never, never, +never!” + +“Come, come, my dear, don’t trifle; I have really business to do, and am +in a hurry.” + +“Well, don’t look at me--never look at me again--promise me that, and +I’ll tell you. Poor Lightbody--Oh, you’re looking at me!--Poor Lightbody +was talking to me of _somebody_, and he laid me a wager--but I can’t +tell you that--Ah, don’t be angry with me, and I will tell, if you’ll +turn your head quite away!--that I should be married to _somebody_ +before the end of this year. Oh, now, don’t look at me, dearest, dearest +Mrs. Beaumont.” + +“You dear little simpleton, and was that all?” said Mrs. Beaumont, vexed +to have wasted her time upon such folly: “come, be serious now, my dear; +if you knew the anxiety I am in at this moment--” But wisely judging +that it would be in vain to hope for any portion of the love-sick +damsel’s attention, until she had confirmed her hopes of being married +to _somebody_ before the end of the year, Mrs. Beaumont scrupled not to +throw out assurances, in which she had herself no further faith. +After what she had heard from her son this morning, she must have been +convinced that there was no chance of marrying him to Miss Hunter; she +knew indeed positively, that he would soon declare his real attachment, +but she could, she thought, during the interval retain her power over +Miss Hunter, and secure her services, by concealing the truth. + +“Before I say one word more of my own affairs, let me, my dearest +child, assure you, that in the midst of all these disappointments and +mortifications about Amelia, I am supported by the hope--by something +more than the hope--that I shall see the daughter of my heart happily +settled soon: Lightbody does not want penetration, I see. But I am +not at liberty to say more. So now, my dear, help me with all your +cleverness to consider what I shall do in the difficulties I am in at +this moment. Your brother has a letter of mine, approving, and so forth, +his addresses to my daughter; now, if he, in the first rashness of his +anger, should produce this to Palmer, I’m undone--or to my son, worse +and worse! there would be a duel between them infallibly, for Beaumont +is so warm on any point of honour--Oh, I dread to think of it, my dear!” + +“So do I, I’m sure; but, Lord, I’m the worst person to think in a +hurry--But can’t you write a letter? for you always know what to say so +well--And after all, do you know, I don’t think he’ll be half so angry +or _so disappointed_ as you fancy, for I never thought he was so much in +love with Amelia.” + +“Indeed!” + +“I know, if it was not a secret, I could tell you--” + +“What? No secrets between us, my darling child.” + +“Then I can tell you, that just before he proposed for Amelia, he was +consulting with me about proposing for Mrs. Dutton.” + +“Mrs. Dutton, the widow! Mrs. Dutton! How you astonish me!” said Mrs. +Beaumont (though she knew this before). “Why she is older than I am.” + +“Older! yes, a great deal; but then you know my brother is no chicken +himself.” + +“To be sure, compared with you, my dear, he is not young. There’s a +prodigious difference between you.” + +“Above twenty years; _for,_ you know, he’s by another marriage.” + +“True; but I can’t believe he proposed for Mrs. Dutton.” + +“Not actually proposed, because I would not let him; for I should +have hated to have had such an unfashionable-looking woman for my +sister-in-law. I never could have borne to go into public with her, you +know: so I plagued my brother out of it; and luckily he found out that +her jointure is not half so great as it was said to be.” + +“I could have told him that. Mrs. Dutton’s jointure is nothing nearly +so large as mine was, even before the addition to it which my son so +handsomely, and indeed unexpectedly, made to it this morning. And did I +tell you, my dear? Mr. Palmer, this day, has been so kind as to leave me +all his immense fortune for my own life. But don’t mention it, lest it +should get round, and make ill-will: the Walsinghams know nothing of it. +But to return to your poor brother--if I could any way serve him with +Mrs. Dutton?” + +“La! he’d never think of her more--and I’m sure I would not have him.” + +“You dear little saucy creature! indeed I cannot wonder that you don’t +like the thoughts of Mrs. Dutton for a _chaperon_ in town.” + +“Oh, horrid! horrid!” + +“And yet, would you condemn your poor brother to be an old bachelor, +after this disappointment with Amelia?” + +“La, ma’am, can’t he marry any body but Mrs. Dutton?” + +“I wish I could think of any person would suit him. Can you?’ + +“Oh, I know very well who I think would suit him, and one I like to go +into public with of all things.” + +“Who?” + +“And one who has promised to present me at court next winter.” + +“My dearest child! is it possible that you mean me?” + +“I do;--and why not?” + +“Why not! My sweet love, do you consider my age?” + +“But you look so young.” + +“To be sure Mrs. Dutton looks older, and is older; but I could not bring +myself, especially after being a widow so long, to think of marrying a +young man--to be sure, your brother is not what one should call a very +young man.” + +“Dear, no; you don’t look above three, or four, or five years older than +he does; and in public, and with dress, and rouge, and fashion, and all +that, I think it would do vastly well, and nobody would think it odd at +all. There’s Lady ----, is not she ten years older than Lord ----? and +every body says that’s nothing, and that she gives the most delightful +parties. Oh, I declare, dearest Mrs. Beaumont, you must and shall marry +my brother, and that’s the only way to make him amends, and prevent +mischief between the gentlemen; the only way to settle every thing +charmingly--and I shall so like it--and I’m so proud of its being my +plan! I vow, I’ll go and write to my brother this minute, and--” + +“Stay, you dear mad creature; only consider what you are about.” + +“Consider! I have considered, and I must and will have my own way,” said +the dear mad creature, struggling with Mrs. Beaumont, who detained her +with an earnest hand. “My love,” said she, “I positively cannot let you +use my name in such a strange way. If your brother or the world should +think I had any share in the transaction, it would be so indelicate.” + +“Indelicate! Dear me, ma’am, but when nobody will know it, how can it +be indelicate? and I will not mention your name, and nobody will ever +imagine that you knew any thing of my writing; and I shall manage it +all my own way; and the plan is all my own: so let me go and write this +minute.” + +“Mercy upon me! what shall I do with this dear headstrong creature!” + said Mrs. Beaumont, letting Miss Hunter go, as if exhausted by the +struggle she had made to detain her impetuous young friend. Away ran +Miss Hunter, sometimes looking back in defiance and laughing, whilst +Mrs. Beaumont shook her head at her whenever she looked back, but found +it impossible to overtake her, and vain to make further opposition. As +Mrs. Beaumont walked slowly homewards, she meditated her own epistle to +Sir John Hunter, and arranged her future plan of operations. + +If, thought she, Miss Hunter’s letter should not succeed, it is only a +suggestion of hers, of which I am not supposed to know any thing, and +I am only just where I was before. If it does succeed, and if Sir +John transfers his addresses to me, I avoid all danger of his anger on +account of his disappointment with Amelia; for it must then be his play, +to convince me that he is not at all disappointed, and then I shall +have leisure to consider whether I shall marry Sir John or not. At all +events, I can draw on his courtship as long as I please, till I have by +degrees brought Mr. Palmer round to approve of the match. + +With these views Mrs. Beaumont wrote an incomparable letter to Sir John +Hunter, in which she enveloped her meaning in so many words, and so +much sentiment, that it was scarcely possible to comprehend any thing, +except, “that she should be glad to see Sir John Hunter the next day, +to explain to him a circumstance that had given her, on his account, +heartfelt uneasiness.” Miss Hunter’s letter was carefully revised by +Mrs. Beaumont, though she was to know nothing of it; and such was the +art with which it was retouched, that, after all proper corrections, +nothing appeared but the most childish and imprudent simplicity. + +After having despatched these letters, Mrs. Beaumont felt much anxiety +about the effect which they might produce; but she was doomed by her own +habits of insincerity to have perpetually the irksome task of assuming +an appearance contrary to her real feelings. Amelia was better, and +Mr. Palmer’s determination to stay in England had spread a degree of +cheerfulness over the whole family, which had not been felt for some +time at Beaumont Park. In this general delight Mrs. Beaumont was +compelled seemingly to sympathize: she performed her part so well, that +even Dr. Wheeler and Captain Lightbody, who had been behind the scenes, +began to believe that the actress was in earnest. Amelia, alas! knew +her mother too well to be the dupe even of her most consummate powers +of acting. All that Mrs. Beaumont said about her joy, and her hopes +that Captain Walsingham would soon appear and confirm her happy +_pre-sentiments_, Amelia heard without daring to believe. She had such +an opinion of her mother’s address, such a sublime superstitious dread +that her mother would, by some inscrutable means, work out her own +purposes, that she felt as if she could not escape from these secret +machinations. Amelia still apprehended that Sir John Hunter would not be +irrevocably dismissed, and that by some turn of artifice she should find +herself bound to him. The next morning Sir John Hunter, however, finally +relieved her from these apprehensions. After having been closeted for +upwards of two hours with Mrs. Beaumont, he begged to speak to Miss +Beaumont; and he resigned all pretensions to the honour which he had +so long and so ardently aspired to. It was his pride to show that his +spirits were not affected by this disappointment: he scarcely indeed +exhibited that decent appearance of mortification which is usually +expected on such an occasion; but with provoking haughtiness professed +himself sincerely obliged to Miss Beaumont for having, _however late +in the business_, prevented him, by her candour, from the danger of +crossing her inclinations. For this he could scarcely be sufficiently +thankful, when he considered how every day showed the consequences of +marrying young ladies whose affections were previously engaged. He had +only to add, that he hoped the world would see _the thing_ in the same +light in which he took it, and that Miss Beaumont might not find herself +blamed for breaking off _the matter_, after it had been so publicly +reported: that, for his part, he assured her, he would, as far as he was +concerned, do his utmost to silence unpleasant observations; and that, +as the most effectual means to do this, he conceived, would be to show +that he continued on an amicable footing with the family, he should +do himself the honour to avail himself of the permission--invitation, +indeed--he had just received from Mrs. Beaumont, to continue his visits +as usual at Beaumont Park. + +To this Amelia could make no objection after the express declaration +which he had just made, that he renounced all pretensions to her favour. +However keenly she felt the implied reproach of having encouraged Sir +John as her admirer, while her affections were previously engaged, and +of having shown candour _late_ in this affair, she could not vindicate +herself without accusing her mother; therefore she attempted neither +excuse nor apology, submitted to let the unfeeling baronet enjoy her +confusion, whilst she said, in general terms, she felt obliged by his +assurance that she should not be the cause of any quarrel between two +families who had hitherto lived in friendship. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + _“Him no soft thoughts, no gratitude could move; + To gold he fled, from beauty and from love!”_ + + DRYDEN. + +All that passed in the two hours’ conversation between the discarded +baronet and the mother of his late mistress did not transpire; but Mrs. +Beaumont said that she had taken infinite pains to reconcile Sir John +to his fate, and his subsequent behaviour showed that she had +succeeded. His attention towards her also plainly proved that he was not +dissatisfied by the part she had acted, or rather by the part that he +thought she had acted. Thus all things went on smoothly. Mrs. Beaumont, +in confidence, told her friend, Miss Hunter, that Sir John had behaved +with the greatest propriety and candour (candour! that hackneyed word); +that he had acknowledged that his principal inducement to propose for +her daughter had been a desire to be connected with a family for which +he had such peculiar regard. + +“This, my love,” continued Mrs. Beaumont, “was all, you know, that your +brother could, with propriety, say on such an occasion; all indeed that +I would permit him to say. As to the rest, on Amelia’s account, you +know, I could not refuse his request to continue his visits in this +family on the same footing of friendship as usual.” + +Whether this was the truth and the whole truth, the mystery that +involves all cabinet-councils, and more especially those of female +politicians, prevents the cautious historian from presuming to decide. +But arguing from general causes, and from the established characters and +ruling passions of the parties concerned, we may safely conjecture that +the baronet did not at this time make any decisive proposal to the +lady, but that he kept himself at liberty to advance or recede, as +circumstances should render it expedient. His ruling passion was +avarice; and though he had been allured by the hints which his sister +had thrown out concerning Mrs. Beaumont’s increased jointure, and +vast expectancies from Mr. Palmer, yet he was not so rash as to act +decisively upon such vague information: he had wisely determined to +obtain accurate and positive evidence from Captain Lightbody, who +seemed, in this case, to be the common vouchee; but Lightbody happened +to be gone out to shoot _flappers_.[4] + +Consequently Sir John wisely entrenched himself in general professions +of regard to Mrs. Beaumont, and reflections on the happiness of being +connected with such a respectable family. Mrs. Beaumont, who understood +the whole of the game, now saw that her play must be to take Captain +Lightbody again into her confidence. + +Ever careful not to commit herself, she employed Miss Hunter to +communicate _her own scheme_ to the captain, and to prepare him on +the requisite points with proper answers to those inquiries which she +foresaw the baronet would make. + +“You know, my love,” said Mrs. Beaumont, “you can find a proper moment +to say all you wish to Lightbody.” + +“Oh, yes,” said Miss Hunter, “I will if I possibly can this day; but it +is so difficult to find a good time--” + +“At dinner, suppose?” said Mrs. Beaumont. + +“At dinner! surely, ma’am, that’s an awkward time, is not it, for +talking of secrets?” + +“The best time in the world, my dear; you know we are to have the +Duttons, and the Lord knows whom besides, to-day. And when there’s a +large company, and every body talking at once, and eating, and drinking, +and carving, it is the best time in the world! You may say what you +please; your neighbours are all happily engaged, too busy to mind you. +Get near fat Mr. Dutton, and behind the screen of his prodigious elbow +you will be comfortably recessed from curious impertinents. My dear, +the most perfect solitude is not so convenient as one of these great +dinners.” + +Whilst Mrs. Beaumont was demonstrating to Miss Hunter that the most +convenient and secure time for a _tête-à-tête_ is at a large dinner, she +happened to look out of the window, near which they were standing, and +she saw her son and daughter with Mr. Palmer walking in the park; they +sat down under a tree within view of the house. + +“Come away from the window, my dear,” said Mrs. Beaumont; “they will +observe us, and perhaps think we are plotting something. I wonder what +they are talking of! Look how earnestly Amelia is stretching out her +neck, and Mr. Palmer striking his cane upon the ground. Come back a +little, my dear, come back; you can see as well here.” + +“But I see a gentleman on horseback, galloping. Oh, ma’am, look! he has +stopped! he has jumped off his horse! Captain Walsingham it must be!” + +“Captain Walsingham it really is!” said Mrs. Beaumont, pressing forward +to look out of the window, yet standing so, that she could not be seen +from without. + +“Dear,” said Miss Hunter, “but how delighted Mr. Beaumont seems; and +how Mr. Palmer shakes Captain Walsingham’s hand, as if he had known him +these hundred years! What can make them so glad to see him? Do look at +them, ma’am.” + +“I see it all!” said Mrs. Beaumont, with an involuntary sigh. + +“But, dear Mrs. Beaumont,” pursued Miss Hunter, “if he has actually +come at last to propose for Amelia, don’t you think he is doing it in a +shabby sort of way? When he has been in London too--and if he has taken +such a treasure too, could not he have come down here a little more in +style, with some sort of an equipage of his own at least? But now only +look at him; would you, if you met him on the road, know him from any +common man?” + +Another sigh, deep and sincere, was all the answer Mrs. Beaumont made. + +“I am sure,” continued Miss Hunter, as Mrs. Beaumont drew her away from +the window, “I am sure, I think Amelia has not gained much by the change +of admirers; for what’s a captain of a ship?” + +“He ranks with a colonel in the army, to be sure,” said Mrs. Beaumont; +“but Amelia might have looked much higher. If she does not know her own +interest and dignity, that is not my fault.” + +“If she had such a fortune as I shall have,” said Miss Hunter, “she +might afford to marry for love, because you know she could make her +husband afterwards keep her proper equipages, and take her to town, and +go into parliament, and get a title for her too!” + +“Very true, my darling,” said Mrs. Beaumont, who was at this instant +so absent, that she assented without having heard one syllable that her +darling said. + +“But for Amelia, who has no such great fortune of her own, it is quite +another thing, you know, dearest Mrs. Beaumont. Oh, you’ll see how +she’ll repent when she sees you Lady Puckeridge, and herself plain +Mrs. Walsingham. And when she sees the figure you’ll make in town next +winter, and the style my brother will live in--Oh, then she’ll see what +a difference there is between Sir John Hunter and Captain Walsingham!” + +“Very true, indeed, my dear,” said Mrs. Beaumont; and this time she did +not answer without having heard the assertion. The door opened. + +“Captain Walsingham! dare I believe my eyes? And do I see our friend, +Captain Walsingham, again at last?” + +“At last! Oh, Mrs. Beaumont, you don’t know how hard I have worked to +get here.” + +“How kind! But won’t you sit down and tell me?” + +“No; I can neither sit, nor rest, nor speak, nor think upon any subject +but one,” said Captain Walsingham. + +“That’s right,” cried Mr. Palmer. + +“Mrs. Beaumont--pardon my abruptness,” continued Captain Walsingham, +“but you see before you a man whose whole happiness is at stake. May I +beg a few minutes’ conversation with you?” + +“This instant,” said Mrs. Beaumont, hesitating; but she saw that Mr. +Palmer’s eye was upon her, so with a smile she complied immediately; and +giving her hand graciously to Captain Walsingham, she accompanied him +into a little reading-room within the drawing-room. + +“May I hope that we are friends?” said Captain Walsingham; “may I hope +so, Mrs. Beaumont--may I?” + +“Good Heavens! Friends! assuredly; I hope so. I have always had and +expressed the highest opinion of you, Captain Walsingham.” + +“I have had one, and, hitherto, but one opportunity of showing +myself, in any degree, deserving of your esteem, madam,” said Captain +Walsingham. “When I was in this country some years ago, you must have +seen how passionately I was in love with your daughter; but I knew that +my circumstances were then such that I could not hope to obtain Miss +Beaumont’s hand; and you will do me the justice to allow that I behaved +with prudence. Of the difficulty of the task I alone can judge.” + +Mrs. Beaumont declared, that she admired Captain Walsingham’s conduct +inexpressibly, now that she understood what his feelings and motives had +been; but really he had kept his own secret so honourably, that she had +not, till within these few days, when it was _let out_ by Mr. Walsingham +to Mr. Palmer, had the most distant idea of his being attached to her +daughter. + +Captain Walsingham was too polite even to _look_ a doubt of the truth of +a lady’s assertion: he therefore believed, because it was impossible. + +Mrs. Beaumont, determining to make her story consistent, repeated nearly +what she had said to Mr. Palmer, and went on to confess that she had +often, with a mother’s pride, perhaps, in her own secret thoughts +wondered at the indifference Captain Walsingham showed towards Amelia. + +Captain Walsingham was surprised that Mrs. Beaumont’s penetration +should have been so strangely mistaken; especially as the symptoms of +admiration and love must be so well known to a lady who had so many and +such passionate admirers. + +Mrs. Beaumont smiled, and observed, that Captain Walsingham, though a +seaman, had all the address of a courtier, and she acknowledged that she +loved address. + +“If by address Mrs. Beaumont means politeness, I admire it as much as +she does; but I disclaim and despise all that paltry system of artifice, +which is sometimes called address. No person of a great mind ever +condescends to use _address_ in that sense of the word; not because they +cannot, but because they will not.” + +“Certainly--certainly,” said Mrs. Beaumont; “there is nothing I love so +much as frankness.” + +“Then, frankly, Mrs. Beaumont, may I hope for your approbation in +addressing Miss Beaumont?” + +“Frankly, then, you have my full approbation. This is the very thing +I have long secretly wished, as Mr. Palmer can tell you. You have ever +been the son-in-law of my choice, though not of my hopes.” + +Delighted with this frank answer, this full approbation, this assurance +that he had always been the son-in-law of her choice, Captain Walsingham +poured out his warm heart in joy and gratitude. All suspicions of Mrs. +Beaumont were forgotten; for suspicion was unnatural to his mind: +though he knew, though he had experience almost from childhood, of +her character, yet, at this instant, he thought he had, till now, been +always prejudiced, always mistaken. Happy those who can be thus duped by +the warmth of their own hearts! It is a happiness which they who smile +in scorn at their credulity can never enjoy. + +Wakening a little to the use of his understanding, Captain Walsingham +disconcerted Mrs. Beaumont, by suddenly saying, “Then there was not any +truth in the report, which I have heard with horror, that you were going +to marry Miss Beaumont to Sir John Hunter?” + +“Then there was not any truth in the report I heard with horror, that +you were going to marry yourself to a Spanish nun?” said Mrs. Beaumont, +who had learned from a veteran in public warfare, that the best way to +parry an attack is not to defend, but to make an assault. + +“My dear Captain Walsingham,” added she, with an arch smile, “I really +thought you were a man of too much sense, and above all, too much +courage, to be terror-struck by every idle report. You should leave +such _horrors_ to us weak women--to the visionary mind. Now, I could not +blame poor Amelia, if she were to ask, ‘Then was there no truth in +the report of the Spanish incognita?’--No, no,” pursued Mrs. Beaumont, +playfully, refusing to hear Captain Walsingham; “not to me, not to +_me_, must your defence be made. Appear before your judge, appear before +Amelia; I can only recommend you to mercy.” + +What a charming woman this Mrs. Beaumont would be, if one could feel +quite sure of her sincerity, thought Captain Walsingham, as he followed +the lady, who, with apparently playful, but really polite grace, thus +eluded all further inquiry into her secret manoeuvres. + +“Here, my dearest Amelia,” cried she, “is a culprit, whom I am bringing +to your august tribunal for mercy.” + +“For justice,” said Captain Walsingham. + +“Justice! Oh, the pride of the man’s heart, and the folly! Who ever +talks of justice to a woman? My dear captain, talk of mercy, or cruelty, +if you will; we ladies delight in being called cruel, you know, and +sometimes are even pleased to be merciful--but to be just, is the last +thing we think of: so now for your trial; public or private, Captain +Walsingham?” + +“Public! as I am innocent.” + +“Oyes, oyes! all manner of men,” cried Mr. Beaumont. + +“The Spanish cause coming on!” cried Mr. Palmer: “let me hear it; and +let me have a good seat that I may hear--a seat near the judge.” + +“Oh, you shall be judge, Mr. Palmer,” said Amelia; “and here is the best +seat for our good judge.” + +“And you will remember,” said Mr. Beaumont, “that it is the duty of a +good judge to lean towards the prisoner.” + +“To lean! No, to sit bolt upright, as I will if I can,” said old Mr. +Palmer, entering into the pleasantry of the young people as readily as +if he had been the youngest man in the company. As he looked round, his +good countenance beamed with benevolent pleasure. + +“Now, sir captain, be pleased to inform the court what you have done, +or mean to do, with a certain Spanish nun, whom, as it is confidently +asserted in a letter from one of your own men, you carried off from her +nunnery, and did bring, or cause to be brought, with you to England.” + +“My lord judge, will you do me the favour, or the justice, to order that +the letter alluded to may be read in court?” + +This was ordered, and done accordingly. + +“My lord judge,” said Captain Walsingham, “I have nothing to object to +the truth of the main points of this story; and considering that it was +told by a very young man, and a traveller, it contains but a reasonable +share of _‘travellers’ wonders.’_ Considering the opportunity and +temptation for embellishments afforded by such a romantic tale, less +has been added to it by the narrator than the usual progress of strange +reports might have prepared me to expect. It is most true, as it has +been stated, that I did, by her own desire, carry away from a nunnery, +at ----, this lady, who was neither a nun nor a Spanish lady, nor, as I +am compelled by my regard to truth to add, young, nor yet handsome. +My lord judge, far be it from me to impeach the veracity of the +letter-writer. It is admitted by the highest and the lowest authorities, +that beauty is a matter of taste, and that for taste there is no +standard; it is also notorious, that to a sailor every woman is fair and +young, who is not as old as Hecuba, or as ugly as Caifacaratadaddera. I +can therefore speak only to my own opinion and judgment. And really, my +lord, it grieves me much to spoil the romance, to destroy the effect of +a tale, which might in future serve for the foundation of some novel, +over which belles and beaux, yet unborn, might weep and wonder: +it grieves me much, I say, to be compelled by the severity of this +cross-examination to declare the simple truth, that there was no love in +the case; that, to the very best of my belief and judgment, the lady was +not in love with any body, much less with me.” + +“As you have admitted, sir,” said the judge, “as you have voluntarily +stated, that to a sailor every woman is fair and young, who is not as +old as Hecuba, or as ugly as that other woman with the unspeakable name, +you will be pleased to inform the court how it happened, or how it was +possible, that in the course of a long voyage, you could avoid falling +in love with the damsel whom you had thus rescued and carried off. +Experience shows us, sir, that at land, and, I presume, at sea, +proximity is one of the most common causes of love. Now, I understand, +she was the only woman you saw for some months; and she had, I think +you allow, possession of your cabin, to and from which you had of course +constant egress and regress. Sir, human nature is human nature; here is +temptation, and opportunity, and circumstantial evidence enough, in our +days, to hang a man. What have you to offer in your defence, young man?” + +“The plain fact, my lord, is, that instead of three months, I was but +three days in the dangerous state of proximity with the Spanish lady. +But had it been three months, or three years, there is my defence, my +lord,” said Captain Walsingham, bowing to Amelia. “At the first _blush_, +you allow it, I see, to be powerful; but how powerful, you cannot feel +as I do, without having looked, as I have done, into the mind.” + +“I have looked into the mind as well as you, sir. You have a great deal +of assurance, to tell me I cannot feel and judge as well as you can. +But, nevertheless, I shall do you justice. I think your defence is +sufficient. I believe we must acquit him. But, pray--the plain matter of +fact, which I wanted to hear, I have not yet got at. What have you done +with this lady? and where is she?” + +“She was carried safely to her friends--to her friend, for she has but +one friend, that I could find out, an old aunt, who lives in an obscure +lodging, in a narrow street, in London.” + +“And, upon honour, this is all you know about her?” said Mrs. Beaumont. + +“All--except that she is in hopes of recovering some property, of which +she says she has been unjustly defrauded by some of her relations. After +I had paid my respects at the Admiralty, I made it my business to see +the lady, and to offer my services; but into her lawsuits, I thank God, +it was not my business to inquire, I recommended to her a good honest +lawyer, and came here as fast as horses could carry me.” + +“But was not there some giving of diamonds, and exchanging of rings, one +day, upon deck?” said Mrs. Beaumont. + +“None,” said Captain Walsingham; “that was a mere fable of poor Birch’s +imagination. I recollect the lady showed me a Spanish motto upon her +ring; that is all I can remember about rings.--She had no diamonds, +and very few clothes. Now,” cried Captain Walsingham, growing a little +impatient of the length of his trial, for he had not yet been able to +speak for more than an instant to Amelia, “now, I hope, my trial is +ended; else its length will be, as in some other cases, the worst of +punishments.” + +“Acquitted! acquitted! honourably acquitted!” said Mr. Palmer. + +“Acquitted, acquitted, honourably acquitted by general acclamation,” + cried Mr. Beaumont. + +“Acquitted by a smile from Amelia, worth all our acclamations,” said +Mrs. Beaumont. + +“Captain Walsingham,” said Miss Hunter, “did the lady come to England +and go to London in a Spanish dress and long waist?” + +She spoke, but Captain Walsingham did not hear her important question. +She turned to repeat it, but the captain was gone, and Amelia with him. + +“Bless me! how quick! how odd!” said Miss Hunter, with a pouting look, +which seemed to add--nobody carries me off! + +Mr. Beaumont looked duller than was becoming. + +Mrs. Beaumont applied herself to adjust the pretty curls of Miss +Hunter’s hair; and Mr. Palmer, in one of his absent fits, hummed aloud, +as he walked up and down the room, + + “‘And it’s, Oh! what will become of me? + Oh! what shall I do? + Nobody coming to marry me, + Nobody coming to woo.’” + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + “True love’s the gift which God has giv’n + To man alone, beneath the heav’n; + It is the secret sympathy, + The silver link, the silken tie, + Which heart to heart, and mind to mind, + In body and in soul can bind.” + +Happy love, though the most delightful in reality, is the most +uninteresting in description; and lovers are proverbially bad company, +except for one another: therefore we shall not intrude on Captain +Walsingham and Amelia, nor shall we give a journal of the days of +courtship; those days which, by Rousseau, and many people, have been +pronounced to be the happiest; by others, the only happy days of +existence; and which, by some privileged or prudent few, have been found +to be but the prelude to the increasing pleasures of domestic union. + +Now that Mr. Beaumont saw his sister and his friend thus gratified in +their mutual esteem and affection,--now that he saw all obstacles to +their union removed, he became uncontroulably impatient to declare his +own attachment to Miss Walsingham. + +“My dear mother, I can bear it no longer. Believe me, you are mistaken +in the whole romance you have imagined to yourself about Miss Hunter. +She is no more in love with me than I am with her. Since you fixed my +attention upon her, I have studied the young lady. She is not capable of +love: I don’t mean that she is not capable of wishing to be married, but +that is quite a different affair, which need not give me any peculiar +disturbance. My dear mother, find another husband for her, and my life +for it, her heart will not break; especially if you give her bales of +wedding finery enough to think and talk about for a calendar year. + +“You abominably malicious monster of cruelty, I will not smile, nor will +I allow you to indulge your humour in this manner at the expense of your +poor victim.” + +“Victim! never saw a girl look less like a victim, except, indeed, as +to her ornaments. I believe it is the etiquette for victims to appear +dressed out with garlands, and ribands, and flowers.” + +“Positively, Edward, I won’t allow you to go on in this style;--do +you know you seriously hurt and offend me? do you consider that Miss +Hunter’s mother was my most intimate friend, and this match I have +anxiously wished, in consequence of an agreement made between us at your +birth and Albina’s?” + +“Oh, ma’am, those agreements never turned out well, from the time of the +Arabian tales to the present moment. And you must pardon me if, after +having tried all that reason and patience would do, in vain, I now come +to impatience, and a little innocent ridicule. Except by laughing, I +have no other way left of convincing you that I never can or will marry +this young lady.” + +“But so pretty a creature! Surely you _have thought_ her pretty.” + +“Extremely pretty. And I acknowledge that there have been moments when +the influence of her--beauty, I can’t call it--prettiness, joined to +the power of my mother’s irresistible address, have almost lapped me +in elysium--a fool’s paradise. But, thank Heaven and Miss Walsingham! +I unlapped myself; and though the sweet airs took my fancy, they never +imprisoned my soul.” + +“Vastly poetical! quite in the blue-stocking style.” + +“Blue-stocking! Dear mother, that expression is not elegant enough +for you. That commonplace taunt is unworthy of my mother,” said Mr. +Beaumont, warmly, for he was thrown off his guard by the reflection +implied on Miss Walsingham. “Ignorant silly women may be allowed to +sneer at information and talents in their own sex, and, if they have +read them, may talk of _‘Les Précieuses Ridicules_,’ and _‘Les Femmes +Savantes_,’ and may borrow from Molière all the wit they want, +to support the cause of folly. But from women who are themselves +distinguished for talents, such apostasy--but I am speaking to my +mother--I forbear.” + +“Great forbearance to your mother you have shown, in truth,” cried Mrs. +Beaumont, reddening with genuine anger: “Marry as you please! I +have done. Fool that I have been, to devote my life to plans for the +happiness and aggrandizement of my children! It is now time I should +think of myself. You shall not see me the defeated, deserted, duped, +despised mother--the old dowager _permitted_ in the house of which +she was once the mistress! No, no, Mr. Beaumont,” cried she, rising +indignantly, “this shall never, never be.” + +Touched and astonished by a burst of passion, such as he scarcely had +ever before seen from his mother, Mr. Beaumont stopped her as she rose; +and taking her hand in the most affectionate manner, “Forgive me, my +dear mother, the hasty words I said just now. I was very much in the +wrong. I beg your pardon. Forgive your son.” + +Mrs. Beaumont struggled to withdraw the hand which her son forcibly +detained. + +“Be always,” continued he, “be always mistress of this house, of me, +and mine. The chosen wife of my heart will never torment you, or degrade +herself, with paltry struggles for power. Your days shall be happy and +honoured: believe me, I speak from my heart.” + +Mrs. Beaumont looked as if her anger had subsided; yet, as if struggling +with unusual feelings, she sat silent. Mr. Beaumont continued, “Your +son--who is no sentimentalist, no speech-maker--your son, who has +hitherto perhaps been too rough, too harsh--now implores you, by these +sincere caresses, by all that is tender and true in nature, to believe +in the filial affection of your children. Give us, simply give us your +confidence; and our confidence, free and unconstrained, shall be given +in return. Then we shall be happy indeed.” + +Touched, vanquished, Mrs. Beaumont leaned her head on her son, and said, +“Then we shall be happy indeed!” The exclamation was sincere: at this +moment she thought as she spoke. All her schemes were forgotten: the +reversionary title, the Wigram estate--all, all forgotten: miraculous +eloquence and power of truth! + +“What happiness!” said Mrs. Beaumont: “I ask no other. You are right, +my dear son; marry Miss Walsingham, and we have enough, and more than +enough, for happiness. You are right; and henceforward we shall have but +one mind amongst us.” + +With true gratitude and joy her son embraced her; and this was the most +delightful, perhaps the only really delightful, moment she had felt for +years. She was sincere, and at ease. But this touch of nature, strong +as it was, operated only for a moment: habit resumed her influence; art +regained her pupil and her slave! Captain Lightbody and Miss Hunter came +into the room; and with them came low thoughts of plots, and notes, +and baronets, and equipages, and a reversionary title, and the Wigram +estate. What different ideas of happiness! Her son, in the mean time, +had started up, mounted his horse, and had galloped off to realize some +of his ideas of felicity, by the immediate offer of his hand to the lady +who possessed his whole heart. Cool as policy, just recovered from the +danger of imprudent sensibility, could make her, Mrs. Beaumont was now +all herself again. + +“Have you found much amusement shooting this morning, Lightbody?” said +she, carelessly. + +“No, ma’am; done nothing--just nothing at all--for I met Sir John in the +grounds, and could not leave him. Poor Sir John, ma’am; I tell him we +must get him a crook; he is quite turned despairing shepherd. Never saw +a man so changed. Upon my soul, he is--seriously now, Mrs. Beaumont, you +need not laugh--I always told Sir John that his time of falling in love +would come; and come it has, at last, with a vengeance.” + +“Oh, nonsense! nonsense, Lightbody! This to me! and of Sir John Hunter!” + +Though Mrs. Beaumont called it, and thought it nonsense, yet it +flattered her; and though she appeared half offended by flattery so +gross, as to seem almost an insult upon her understanding, yet her +vanity was secretly gratified, even by feeling that she had dependents +who were thus obliged to flatter; and though she despised Captain +Lightbody for the meanness, yet he made his court to her successfully, +by persisting in all the audacity of adulation. She knew Sir John Hunter +too well to believe that he was liable to fall in love with any thing +but a fair estate or a fine fortune; yet she was gratified by feeling +that she possessed so great a share of those charms which age cannot +wither; of that substantial power, to which men do not merely feign +in poetical sport to submit, or to which they are slaves only for a +honey-moon, but to which they do homage to the latest hour of life, +with unabating, with increasing devotion. Besides this sense of pleasure +arising from calculation, it may be presumed that, like all other female +politicians, our heroine had something of the woman lurking at her +heart; something of that feminine vanity, which inclines to believe in +the potency of personal charms, even when they are in the wane. Captain +Lightbody’s asseverations, and the notes Sir John Hunter wrote to his +sister, were at last listened to by Mrs. Beaumont with patience, and +even with smiles; and, after it had been sufficiently reiterated, +that really it was using Sir John Hunter ill not to give him some more +decisive answer, when he was so unhappy, so impatient, she at length +exclaimed, “Well, Lightbody, tell your friend Sir John, then, since +it must be so, I will consult my friends, and see what can be done for +him.” + +“When may I say? for I dare not see Sir John again--positively I dare +not meet him--without having some hope to give, something decisive. He +says the next time he comes here he must be allowed to make it known to +the family that he is Mrs. Beaumont’s admirer. So, when may I say?” + +“Oh, dearest Mrs. Beaumont,” cried Miss Hunter, “say to-morrow.” + +“To-morrow! impossible!” + +“But when?” said Miss Hunter: “only look at my brother’s note to me +again; you see he is afraid of being cast off at last as he was +before about Amelia, if Mr. Palmer should object; and he says this +disappointment would be such a very different affair.” + +“Indeed,” said Captain Lightbody, “I, who am in Sir John’s confidence, +can vouch for that; for I have reason to believe, that--that _the +connexion_ was the charm, and that the daughter would not have been +thought of. Stop, I was charged not to say this. But _when_ Mrs. +Beaumont, to return to my point--” + +“Oh! name an early day,” cried Miss Hunter, in a fondling tone; “name +an early day for my brother’s coming; and then, you know, it will be so +_nice_ to have the wedding days fixed for both marriages. And, dearest +Mrs. Beaumont, remember I am to be your bride’s-maid; and we’ll have a +magnificent wedding, and I shall be bride’s-maid!” + +“The dear innocent little creature, how mad she is with spirits! Well, +you shall be my bride’s-maid, if the thing takes place.” + +“_If.--If_ to the winds!--Captain Lightbody, tell my brother--No, I’ll +write myself, and tell him he may come.” + +“How she distresses me! But she is so affectionate, one does not know +how to be angry with her. But, my dear, as to naming the day when he may +publicly declare himself, I cannot; for, you know, I have to break the +affair to Mr. Palmer, and to my son and daughter, and I must take my own +time, and find a happy moment for this; so name a day I cannot; but +in general--and it’s always safest to use general terms--you may say, +_soon_.” + +This was Mrs. Beaumont’s ultimatum. The note was written accordingly, +and committed to the care of the confidential captain. + +This business of mysterious note-writing, and secret negotiations[5], +was peculiarly suited to our heroine’s genius and taste. Considering +the negotiation to be now in effect brought within view of a happy +termination, her ambassador, furnished with her ultimatum, having now +actually set out on his ostensible mission of duck-shooting, our fair +negotiatrix prepared to show the usual degree of gratitude towards those +who had been the principal instruments of her success. The proper time, +she thought, was now arrived, when, having no further occasion for Miss +Hunter’s services, she might finally undeceive her young friend as to +any hopes she might retain of a union with Mr. Beaumont; and she felt +that it was now indispensably necessary to disclose the truth, that her +son had declared his attachment to Miss Walsingham. + +Mrs. Beaumont opened the delicate case with a sigh, which claimed the +notice of her young confidante. + +“What a deep sigh!” said Miss Hunter, who was perfect, to use a musical +term, in her lessons, _pour observer les soupirs_: “What a sigh! I hope +it was for my poor brother?” + +“Ah, no, my love! for one nearer my heart--for you.” + +“For me!--dear me!” + +“You see before you a mother, all of whose fondest wishes and plans are +doomed to be frustrated by her children. Amelia would have her way: I +was forced to yield. My son follows her example, insists upon marrying +without fortune, or extraordinary beauty, or any of the advantages which +I had fondly pointed out in the daughter-in-law of my heart. You turn +away from me, my darling! How shall I go on? how shall I tell you all +the terrible truth?” + +“Oh, ma’am, pray go on; pray tell me all.” + +“Miss Walsingham; that’s all, in one word. These Walsinghams have forced +themselves into my family,--fairly outwitted me. I cannot tell you how +much, how deeply I am mortified!” + +“Thank Heaven! I am not mortified,” cried Miss Hunter, throwing back her +head with pettish disdain. + +Mrs. Beaumont, who had prepared herself for a fainting fit, or at least +for a flood of tears, rejoiced to see this turn in the young lady’s +temper. + +“That’s right, my own love. Hew I admire your spirit! This pride becomes +you, and is what I expected from your understanding. Set a just value +upon yourself, and show it.” + +“I should set but little value on myself, indeed, if I did not think +myself equal to Miss Walsingham; but Mr. Beaumont knows best.” + +“Not best, I fear,” said Mrs. Beaumont; “but, from a child he was ever +the most self-willed, uncontrollable being; there was no moving, no +persuading him. There was no power, no appeal, my love, I did not try.” + +“Dear ma’am, I am excessively sorry you did.” + +“Why, my dear, I could not refrain from doing all I could, not only for +my son’s sake, but for yours, when I saw your affections, as I feared, +so deeply engaged. But your present magnanimity gives me hopes that the +shock will not be irrecoverable.” + +“Irrecoverable! No, really, ma’am. If Mr. Beaumont expects to see me +wear the willow for him all my life, his vanity will be mistaken.” + +“Certainly, my dear,” replied Mrs. Beaumont, “you would not be so weak +as to wear the willow for any man. A young lady of your fortune should +never wear the weeping but the golden willow. Turn your pretty little +face again towards me, and smile once more upon me.” + +Miss Hunter had sat with her face turned from Mrs. Beaumont during the +whole of this dialogue--“as if by hiding her face, she could conceal the +emotions of her mind from me,” thought her penetrating observer. + +“Spare me, spare me, dearest Mrs. Beaumont,” cried Miss Hunter, hiding +her face on the arm of the sofa, and seeming now disposed to pass from +the heights of anger to the depths of despair. + +Mrs. Beaumont, less hard-hearted than some politicians, who care not who +dies or lives, provided they attain their own objects, now listened +at least with seeming commiseration to her young friend, who, with +intermitting sighs, and in a voice which her position or her sobs +rendered scarcely audible, talked of dying, and of never marrying any +other man upon the earth. + +Not much alarmed, however, by the dying words of young ladies, Mrs. +Beaumont confined her attention to the absurdity of the resolution +against marriage in general, and at this instant formed a plan of +marrying Miss Hunter to one of her nephews instead of her son. She had +one unmarried nephew, a young man of good figure and agreeable manners, +but with only a younger brother’s portion. To him she thought Miss +Hunter’s large fortune would be highly convenient; and she had reason to +believe that his taste in the choice of a wife would be easily governed +by her advice, or by his interest. Thus she could, at least, prevent her +young friend’s affections and fortune from going out of the family. +In consequence of this glimpse of a new scheme, our indefatigable +politician applied herself to prepare the way for it with her wonted +skill. She soothed the lovelorn and pettish damsel with every expression +that could gratify pride and rouse high thoughts of revenge. She +suggested that instead of making rash vows of celibacy, which would only +show forlorn constancy, Miss Hunter should abide by her first spirited +declaration, never to wear the willow for any man; and that the best way +to assert her own dignity would be to marry as soon as possible. After +having given this consolatory advice, Mrs. Beaumont left the young +lady’s grief to wear itself out. “I know, my love,” added she, “a friend +of mine who would die for the happiness which my obstinate son does not, +it seems, know how to value.” + +“Who, ma’am?” said Miss Hunter, raising her head: “I’m sure I can’t +guess whom you can possibly mean--who, ma’am?” + +“Ah! my dear, excuse me,” said Mrs. Beaumont, “that is a secret I cannot +tell you yet. When you are ‘fit to hear yourself convinced,’ may be, I +may obtain leave to tell you your admirer’s name. I can assure you, he’s +a very fashionable and a very agreeable man; a great favourite with our +sex, a particular friend of mine, and an officer.” + +“Lord bless me!” exclaimed Miss Hunter, starting quite up, “an officer! +I can’t imagine whom you mean! Dear Mrs. Beaumont, whom can you mean?” + +Mrs. Beaumont walked towards the door. + +“Only tell me one thing, dearest Mrs. Beaumont--did I ever see him?” + +Mrs. Beaumont, wisely declining to answer any more questions at present, +quitted the room, and left Miss Hunter dying--with curiosity. + +The new delight of this fresh project, with the prospect of bringing to +a happy termination her negotiation with Sir John Hunter, sustained Mrs. +Beaumont’s spirits in the midst of the disappointments she experienced +respecting the marriages of her son and daughter; and enabled her, with +less effort of dissimulation, to take apparently a share in the general +joy which now pervaded her family. Her son expressed his felicity +with unbounded rapture, when he found his proposal to Miss Walsingham +graciously received by the object of his affections, and by all her +family: his gratitude to his mother for no longer opposing his wishes +gave a tenderness to his manner which would have touched any heart but +that of a politician. Amelia, also, even in the midst of her love for +Captain Walsingham, was anxiously intent upon showing dutiful attention +to her mother, and upon making her some amends for the pain she had +caused her of late. Whenever the brother and sister were together, +in all their views of future happiness their mother was one of their +principal objects; and these dispositions both Miss Walsingham and +Captain Walsingham were earnest to confirm. No young people could have +higher ideas than they had of the duty of children towards parents, and +of the delight of family confidence and union. In former times, when Mr. +Beaumont had been somewhat to blame in the roughness of his sincerity +towards his mother, and when he had been disposed to break from her +artful restraints, Captain Walsingham, by his conversation, and by his +letters, had always used his power and influence to keep him within +bounds; and whenever he could do so with truth, to raise Mrs. Beaumont +in his opinion. She now appeared in a more advantageous light to her +family, and they were more disposed to believe in her sincerity than +they had ever been since the credulous days of childhood. The days of +love and childhood are perhaps, in good minds, almost equally credulous, +or, at least, confiding. Even Mr. Walsingham was won over by the +pleasure he felt in the prospect of his daughter’s happiness; and good +Mr. Palmer was ten times more attentive than ever to Madam Beaumont. +In his attention, however, there was something more ceremonious than +formerly; it was evident, for he was too honest to conceal his feelings, +that his opinion of her was changed, and that his attention was paid +to her rather as the widow of his old friend than on her own account. +Amelia, who particularly remarked this change, and who feared that it +must be severely painful to her mother, tried by every honest art of +kindness to reinstate her in his regard. Amelia, however, succeeded only +in raising herself in his esteem. + +“Do not disturb yourself, my dear young lady,” said he to her, one day, +“about your mother and me. Things are on their right footing between us, +and can never be on any other. She, you see, is quite satisfied.” + +Mrs. Beaumont, indeed, had not Amelia’s quick sensibility with regard +to the real affections of her friends, though she was awake to every +external mark of attention. She was content, as Mr. Palmer before others +always treated her with marked deference, and gave her no reason +to apprehend any alteration in his testamentary dispositions. When +settlements were talked of for the intended marriages, Mr. Palmer seemed +to consider Mrs. Beaumont first in all their consultations, appealed for +her opinion, and had ever a most cautious eye upon her interests. +This she observed with satisfaction, and she was gratified by the +demonstrations of increased regard from her son and daughter, because +she thought it would facilitate her projects. She wished that her +marriage with Sir John Hunter should appear well to the world; and for +this reason she desired that it should _seem_ to be liked by all her +family--seem, for as to their real opinions she was indifferent. + +Things were in this situation, when Mrs. Beaumont _caused herself to be +surprised_[6] one morning by Mr. Palmer, with a letter in her hand, deep +in reverie. + +“Oh! my dear Mr. Palmer, is it you?” cried she, starting very naturally; +“I was really so lost in thought--” + +Mr. Palmer hoped that he did not disturb her.--“Disturb me! no, my good +friend, you are the very person I wished to consult.” Her eye glanced +again and again upon the letter she held in her hand, but Mr. Palmer +seemed provokingly destitute of curiosity; he however took a chair, +and his snuff-box, and with a polite but cold manner said he was much +honoured by her consulting him, but that of course his judgment could be +of little service to a lady of Mrs. Beaumont’s understanding. + +“Understanding! Ah!” said she, “there are cases where understanding is +of no use to women, but quite the contrary.” + +Mr. Palmer did not contradict the assertion, nor did he assent to it, +but waited, with a pinch of snuff arrested in its way, to have the cases +specified. + +“In love affairs, for instance, we poor women,” said Mrs. Beaumont, +looking down prettily; but Mr. Palmer afforded no assistance to her +bashful hesitation; she was under the necessity of finishing her +sentence, or of beginning another, upon a different construction. +The latter was most convenient, and she took a new and franker +tone:--“Here’s a letter from poor Sir John Hunter.” + +Mr. Palmer still sat bending forward to listen with the most composed +deference, but pressed not in the slightest degree upon her confidence +by any question or look down towards the letter, or up towards the +lady’s face, but straightforward looked he, till, quite provoked by his +dulness, Mrs. Beaumont took the matter up again, and, in a new tone, +said, “To be candid with you, my dear friend, this is a subject on which +I feel some awkwardness and reluctance in speaking to you--for of all +men breathing, I should in any important action of my life wish for your +approbation; and yet, on the present occasion, I fear, and so does Sir +John, that you will utterly disapprove of the match.” + +She paused again, to be asked--What match? But compelled by her +auditor’s invincible silence to make out her own case, she proceeded: +“You must know, my good sir, that Sir John Hunter is, it seems, +unconquerably bent upon a connexion with this family; for being refused +by the daughter, he has proposed for the mother!” + +“Yes,” said Mr. Palmer, bowing. + +“I thought you would have been more surprised,” said Mrs. Beaumont: “I +am glad the first sound of the thing does not, as I was afraid it would, +startle or revolt you.” + +“Startle me, it could not, madam,” said Mr. Palmer, “for I have been +prepared for it some time past.” + +“Is it possible? And who could have mentioned it to you--Captain +Lightbody?” + +“Captain Lightbody!” cried Mr. Palmer, with a sudden flash of +indignation: “believe me, madam, I never thought of speaking to Captain +Lightbody of your affairs, I am not in the habit of listening to such +people.” + +“But still, he might have spoken.” + +“No, madam, no; he would not have dared to bring me secret information.” + +“Honourable! quite honourable! But then, my dear sir, how came you to +know the thing?” + +“I saw it. You know, madam, those who stand by always see more than the +players.” + +“And do you think my son and daughter, and Captain Walsingham, know it +too?” + +“I fancy not; for they have not been standers by: they have been deeply +engaged themselves.” + +“That’s well--for I wished to have your opinion and advice in the first +place, before I hinted it even to them, or any one else living. As I +feared the match would not meet your approbation, I told Sir John so, +and I gave him only a provisional consent.” + +“Like the provisional consent of that young Irish lady,” said Mr. +Palmer, laughing, “who went through the marriage service with her +lover, adding at the end of each response, ‘provided my father gives +his consent.’[7] But, madam, though I am old enough certainly to be your +father, yet even if I had the honour to be so in reality, as you are +arrived at years of discretion, you know you cannot need my consent.” + +“But seriously, my excellent friend,” cried she, “I never could be happy +in marrying against your approbation. And let me, in my own vindication, +explain to you the whole of the affair.” + +Here Mr. Palmer, dreading one of her long explanations, which he knew +he should never comprehend, besought her not to invest him with the +unbecoming character of her judge. He represented that no vindication +was necessary, and that none could be of any use. She however persisted +in going through a sentimental defence of her conduct. She assured +Mr. Palmer, that she had determined never to marry again; that her +inviolable respect for her dear Colonel Beaumont’s memory had induced +her to persist in this resolution for many years. That motives of +delicacy and generosity were what first prevailed with her to listen to +Sir John’s suit; and that now she consoled and supported herself by +the proud reflection, that she was acting as her dear Colonel Beaumont +himself, could he know the circumstances and read her heart, would wish +and enjoin her to act. + +Here a smile seemed to play upon Mr. Palmer’s countenance; but the smile +had vanished in an instant, and was followed by a sudden gush of tears, +which were as suddenly wiped away; not, however, before they reminded +Mrs. Beaumont to spread her handkerchief before her face. + +“Perhaps,” resumed she, after a decent pause, “perhaps I am doing wrong +with the best intentions. Some people think that widows should never, on +any account, marry again, and perhaps Mr. Palmer is of this opinion?” + +“No, by no means,” said Mr. Palmer; “nor was Colonel Beaumont. Often +and often he said in his letters to me, that he wished his wife to marry +again after he was gone, and to be as happy after his death as she +had been during his life. I only hope that your choice may fulfil--may +justify--” Mr. Palmer stopped again, something in Shakspeare, about +preying on garbage, ran in his head; and, when Mrs. Beaumont went on +to some fresh topics of vindication, and earnestly pressed for his +_advice_, he broke up the conference by exclaiming, “‘Fore Jupiter, +madam, we had better say nothing more about the matter; for, after all, +what can the wit of man or woman make of it, but that you choose to +marry Sir John Hunter, and that nobody in the world has a right to +object to it? There is certainly no occasion to use any management +with me; and your eloquence is only wasting itself, for I am not so +presumptuous, or so unreasonable, as to set myself up for the judge of +your actions. You do me honour by consulting me; but as you already know +my opinion of the gentleman, I must decline saying any thing further on +the subject.” + +Mrs. Beaumont was left in a painful state of doubt as to the main point, +whether Mr. Palmer would or would not alter his will. However, as she +was determined that the match should be accomplished, she took advantage +of the declaration Mr. Palmer made, that he had no right to object to +her following her own inclinations; and she told Sir John Hunter that +Mr. Palmer was perfectly satisfied; and that he had indeed relieved +her mind from some foolish scruples, by having assured her that it was +Colonel Beaumont’s particular wish, often expressed in his confidential +letters, that his widow should marry again. So far, so good. Then the +affair was to be broken to her son and daughter. She begged Mr. Palmer +would undertake, for her sake, this delicate task; but he declined it +with a frank simplicity. + +“Surely, madam,” said he, “you can speak without difficulty to your own +son and daughter; and I have through life observed, that employing +one person to speak to another is almost always hurtful. I should not +presume, however, to regulate your conduct, madam, by my observations; +I should only give this as a reason for declining the office with which +you proposed to honour me.” + +The lady, compelled to speak for herself to her son and daughter, opened +the affair to them with as much delicacy and address as she had used +with Mr. Palmer. Their surprise was great; for they had not the most +remote idea of her intentions. The result of a tedious conversation of +three hours’ length was perfectly satisfactory to her, though it would +have been to the highest degree painful and mortifying to a woman of +more feeling, or one less intent upon _an establishment_, a reversionary +title, and the Wigram estate. How low she sunk in the opinion of her +children and her friends was comparatively matter of small consequence +to Mrs. Beaumont, provided she could keep fair appearances with the +world. Whilst her son and daughter were so much ashamed of her intended +marriage, that they would not communicate their sentiments even to each +other,--they, with becoming duty, agreed that Mrs. Beaumont was very +good in speaking to them on the subject; as she had an uncontroulable +right to marry as she thought proper. + +Mrs. Beaumont now wrote letters innumerable to her extensive circle of +connexions and acquaintance, announcing her approaching nuptials, and +inviting them to her wedding. It was settled by Mrs. Beaumont, that +the three marriages should _take place_ on the same day. This point +she laboured with her usual address, and at last brought the parties +concerned to give up their wishes for a private wedding, to gratify +her love for show and parade. Nothing now remained but to draw the +settlements. Mrs. Beaumont, who piqued herself upon her skill in +business, and who thought the sum of wisdom was to excel in cunning, +looked over her lawyer’s drafts, and suggested many nice emendations, +which obtained for her from an attorney the praise of being a vastly +clever woman. Sir John was not, on his side, deficient in attention +to his own interests. Never was there a pair better matched in this +respect; never were two people going to be married more afraid that +each should _take the other in_. Sir John, however, pressed forward +the business with an eagerness that surprised every body. Mrs. Beaumont +again and again examined the settlements, to try to account prudentially +for her lover’s impatience; but she _saw_ that _all_ was right there on +her part, and her self-love at last acquiesced in the belief that +Sir John’s was now the ardour of a real lover. To the lady’s +entire satisfaction, the liveries, the equipages, the diamonds, the +wedding-clothes were all bought, and the wedding-day approached. Mrs. +Beaumont’s rich and fashionable connexions and acquaintance all promised +to grace her nuptials. Nothing was talked of but the preparations for +Mrs. Beaumont and Sir John Hunter’s marriage; and so full of business +and bustle, and mysteries, and _sentimentalities_, and vanities was she, +that she almost forgot that any body was to be married but herself. The +marriages of her son and daughter seemed so completely to merge in the +importance and splendour of her own, that she merely recollected them as +things that were to be done on the same day, as subordinate parts that +were to be acted by inferior performers, whilst she should engross the +public interest and applause. In the mean time Miss Hunter was engaged, +to Mrs. Beaumont’s satisfaction and her own, in superintending the +wedding-dresses, and in preparing the most elegant dress imaginable for +herself, as bride’s-maid. Now and then she interrupted these occupations +with sighs and fits of pretty sentimental dejection; but Mrs. Beaumont +was well convinced that a new lover would soon make her forget her +disappointment. The nephew was written to, and invited to spend some +time with his aunt, immediately after her marriage; for she determined +that Miss Hunter should be her niece, since she could not be her +daughter. This secondary intrigue went on delightfully in our heroine’s +imagination, without interfering with the main business of her own +marriage. The day, the long-expected day, that was to crown all her +hopes, at length arrived. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +“On peut étre plus fin qu’un autre, mais pas plus fin que tous les +autres.”--ROCHEFOUCAULT. + + +The following paragraph[8] extracted from the newspapers of the day, +will, doubtless, be acceptable to a large class of readers. + + +“FASHIONABLE HYMENEALS. + +“Yesterday, Sir John Hunter, of Hunter Hall, Devonshire, Bart., led to +the hymeneal altar the accomplished Mrs. Beaumont, relict of the late +Colonel Beaumont, of Beaumont Park. On the same day her son and daughter +were also married--Mr. Beaumont to Miss Walsingham, daughter of E. +Walsingham, Esq., of Walsingham House;--and Miss Beaumont to Captain +Walsingham of the navy, a near relation of Edward Walsingham, Esq., of +Walsingham House. + +“These nuptials in the Beaumont family were graced by an overflowing +concourse of beauty, nobility, and fashion, comprehending all the +relations, connexions, intimate friends, and particular acquaintances +of the interesting and popular Mrs. Beaumont. The cavalcade reached +from the principal front of the house to the south gate of the park, a +distance of three-quarters of a mile. Mrs. Beaumont and her daughter, +two lovely brides, in a superb landau, were attired in the most elegant, +becoming, fashionable, and costly manner, their dress consisting of the +finest lace, over white satin. Mrs. Beaumont’s was point lace, and she +was also distinguished by a long veil of the most exquisite texture, +which added a tempered grace to beauty in its meridian. In the same +landau appeared the charming brides’-maids, all in white, of course. +Among these, Miss Hunter attracted particular attention, by the felicity +of her costume. Her drapery, which was of delicate lace, being happily +adapted to show to the greatest advantage the captivating contour of +her elegant figure, and ornamented with white silk fringe and tassels, +marked every airy motion of her sylph-like form. + +“The third bride on this auspicious day was Miss Walsingham, who, with +her father and bride’s-maids, followed in Mr. Walsingham’s carriage. +Miss Walsingham, we are informed, was dressed with simple elegance, +in the finest produce of the Indian loom; but, as she was in a covered +carriage, we could not obtain a full view of her attire. Next to the +brides’ equipages, followed the bridegrooms’. And chief of these Sir +John Hunter sported a splendid barouche. He was dressed in the height of +the ton, and his horses deserved particular admiration. After Sir John’s +barouche came the equipage belonging to Mr. Beaumont, highly finished +but plain: in this were the two bridegrooms, Mr. Beaumont and Captain +Walsingham, accompanied by Mr. Palmer (the great West-Indian Palmer), +who, we understand, is the intimate friend and relative of the Beaumont +family. Then followed, as our correspondent counted, above a hundred +carriages of distinction, with a prodigious cavalcade of gentry. The +whole was closed by a long line of attendants and domestics. The moment +the park gates were opened, groups of young girls of the Beaumont +tenantry, habited in white, with knots of ribands, and emblematical +devices suited to the occasion, and with baskets of flowers in their +hands, began to strew vegetable incense before the brides, especially +before Mrs. Beaumont’s landau. + + ‘And whilst the priests accuse the bride’s delay, + Roses and myrtles still obstruct her way.’ + +“The crowd, which assembled as they proceeded along the road to the +church, and in the churchyard, was such that, however gratefully +it evinced the popularity of the amiable parties, it became at last +evidently distressing to the principal object of their homage--Mrs. +Beaumont, who could not have stood the gaze of public admiration but +for the friendly and becoming, yet tantalizing refuge of her veil. +Constables were obliged to interfere to clear the path to the church +door, and the amiable almost fainting lady was from the arms of +her anxious and alarmed bride’s-maids lifted out of her landau, and +supported into the church and up the aisle with all the marked gallantry +of true tenderness, by her happy bridegroom, Sir John Hunter. + +“After the ceremony was over, Sir John and Lady Hunter, and the two +other new-married couples, returned to Beaumont Park with the _cortège_ +of their friends, where the company partook of an elegant collation. The +artless graces and fascinating affability of Lady Hunter won all hearts; +and the wit, festive spirits, and politeness of Sir John, attracted +universal admiration--not to say envy, of all present. Immediately after +the collation, the happy couple set off for their seat at Hunter Hall. + +“Mr. Beaumont, and the new Mrs. Beaumont, remained at Beaumont Park. +Captain and Mrs. Walsingham repaired to Mr. Walsingham’s. + +“It is a singular circumstance, communicated to us by the indisputable +authority of one of the bride’s-maids, that Miss Walsingham, as it was +discovered after the ceremony, was actually married with her gown the +wrong side outwards. Whether this be an omen announcing good fortune to +_all_ the parties concerned, we cannot take upon us to determine; but +this much we may safely assert, that never distinguished female in the +annals of fashion was married under more favourable auspices than the +amiable Lady Hunter. And it is universally acknowledged, that no lady +is better suited to be, as in the natural course of things she will soon +be, Countess of Puckeridge, and at the head of the great Wigram estate.” + + * * * * * + +So ends our newspaper writer. + +Probably this paragraph was sent to the press before the _fashionable +hymeneals_ had actually taken place. This may in some measure account +for the extraordinary omissions in the narrative. After the three +marriages had been solemnized, just when the ceremony was over, and Lady +Hunter was preparing to receive the congratulations of the brilliant +congregation, she observed that the clergyman, instead of shutting his +book, kept it open before him, and looked round as if expecting another +bride. Mrs. Beaumont, we should say Lady Hunter, curtsied to him, +smiled, and made a sign that the ceremony was finished; but at this +instant, to her astonishment, she saw her bride’s-maid, Miss Hunter, +quit her place, and beheld Captain Lightbody seize her hand, and lead +her up towards the altar. Lady Hunter broke through the crowd that was +congratulating her, and reaching Miss Hunter, drew her hack forcibly, +and whispered, “Are you mad, Miss Hunter? Is this a place, a time for +frolic? What are you about?” + +“Going to be married, ma’am! following your ladyship’s good example,” + answered her bride’s-maid, flippantly,--at the same time springing +forward from the detaining grasp, regardless even of the rent she made +in her lace dress, she hurried, or was hurried on by Captain Lightbody. + +“Captain Lightbody!” cried Lady Hunter; but, answering only with a +triumphant bow, he passed on with his bride. + +“Heavens! will nobody stop him?” cried Lady Hunter, over-taking them +again as they reached the steps. She addressed herself to the clergyman. +“Sir, she is a ward in chancery, and under my protection: they have +no licence; their banns have not been published: you cannot, dare not, +surely, marry them?” + +“Pardon me, Lady Hunter,” said Captain Lightbody; “I have shown Mr. +Twigg my licence.” + +“I have seen it--I thought it was with your ladyship’s knowledge,” + replied Mr. Twigg. “I--I cannot object--it would be at my own peril. If +there is any lawful impediment, your ladyship will make it at the proper +response.” + +A friend of Captain Lightbody’s appeared in readiness to give the young +lady away. + +“The ceremony must go on, madam,” said the clergyman. + +“At your peril, sir!” said Lady Hunter. “This young lady, is a ward of +chancery, and not of age!” + +“I am of age--of age last month,” cried the bride. + +“Not till next year.” + +“Of age last month. I have the parish register,” said Captain Lightbody. +“Go on, sir, if you please.” + +“Good Heavens! Miss Hunter, can you bear,” said Lady Hunter, “to be the +object of this indecent altercation? Retire with me, and only let me +speak to you, I conjure you!” + +No--the young lady stood her ground, resolute to be a bride. + +“If there is any lawful impediment, your ladyship will please to make it +at the proper response,” said the chaplain. “I am under a necessity of +proceeding.” + +The ceremony went on. + +Lady Hunter, in high indignation, retired immediately to the vestry-room +with her bridegroom. “At least,” cried she, throwing herself upon a +seat, “it shall never be said that I countenanced, by my presence, such +a scandalous marriage! Oh! Sir John Hunter, why did you not interfere to +save your own sister?” + +“Save her! Egad, she did not choose to be saved. Who can save a woman +that does not choose it? What could I do? Is not she your ladyship’s +pupil?--he! he! he! But I’ll fight the rascal directly, if that will +give you any satisfaction.” + +“And he shall have a lawsuit too for her fortune!” said Lady Hunter; +“for she is not of age. I have a memorandum in an old pocket book. Oh! +who would have thought such a girl could have duped me so!” + +Lady Hunter’s exclamations were interrupted by the entrance of her +son and daughter, who came to offer what consolation they could. The +brilliant congregation poured in a few minutes afterwards, with their +mingled congratulations and condolence, eager, above all things, to +satisfy their curiosity. + +Captain Lightbody, with invincible assurance, came up just as Lady +Hunter was getting into her carriage, and besought permission to present +his bride to her. But Lady Hunter, turning her back upon him without +reply, said to her son, “If Captain Lightbody is going to Beaumont Park, +I am not going there.” + +Mrs. Lightbody, who was now emancipated from all control, and from all +sense of propriety, called out from her _own_ carriage, in which she was +seated, “That, thank Heaven! she had a house of her own to go to, +and that nothing was farther from her thoughts than to interrupt the +festivities of Lady Hunter’s more mature nuptials.” + +Delighted with having made this tart answer, Mrs. Lightbody ordered +her husband to order her coachman to drive off as fast as possible. +The captain, by her particular desire, had taken a house for her at +Brighton, the gayest place she could think of. We leave this amiable +bride rejoicing in the glory of having duped a lady of Mrs. Beaumont’s +penetration; and her bridegroom rejoicing still more in the parish +register, by the help of which he hoped to obtain full enjoyment of what +he knew to be his bride’s most valuable possession--her portion, and to +defy Lady Hunter’s threatened lawsuit. + +In the mean time, Lady Hunter, in her point lace and beautiful veil, +seated beside her baronet, in his new barouche, endeavoured to forget +this interruption of her triumph. She considered, that though Miss +Hunter’s fortune was lost to her family, yet the title of countess, +and the Wigram estate, were _secure_: this was solid consolation; and +recovering her features from their unprecedented discomposure, she +forced smiles and looks suitable to the occasion, as she bowed to +congratulating passengers. + +Arrived at Beaumont Park, she prepared, without appetite, to partake of +the elegant collation, and to do the honours with her accustomed grace: +she took care to seat Mr. Palmer beside her, that she might show the +world on what good terms they were together. She was pleased to see, +that though two younger brides sat near her, she engaged by far the +largest share of public admiration. They were so fully content and +engrossed by their own feelings, that they did not perceive that they +were what is called _thrown into the shade_. All the pride, pomp, and +circumstance of these glorious hymeneals appeared to them but as a +dream, or as a scene that was acting before them, in which they were +not called to take a part. Towards the end of the collation, one of the +guests, my Lord Rider, a nobleman who always gave himself the air of +being in a prodigious hurry, declared that he was under the necessity of +going off, for he expected a person to meet him at his house in town, on +some particular business, at an appointed day. His lordship’s travelling +companion, who was unwilling to quit so prematurely the present scene of +festivity, observed that the man of business had engaged to write to his +lordship, and that he should at least wait till the post should come in. +Lady Hunter politely sent to inquire if any letters had arrived for his +lordship; and, in consequence of his impatience, all the letters for +the family were brought: Lady Hunter distributed them. There was one for +Captain Walsingham, with a Spanish motto on the seal: Lady Hunter, as +she gave it to him, whispered to Amelia, “Don’t be jealous, my dear, but +that, I can tell you, is a letter from his Spanish incognita.” Amelia +smiled with a look of the most perfect confidence and love. Captain +Walsingham immediately opened the letter, and, looking at the signature, +said, “It is not from my Spanish incognita,--it is from her aunt; I will +read it by and by.” + +“A fine evasion, indeed!” exclaimed Lady Hunter: “look how coolly he +puts it into his pocket! Ah! my credulous Amelia, do you allow him to +begin in this manner?” pursued she, in a tone of raillery, yet as if +she really suspected something wrong in the letter; “and have you no +_curiosity_, Mrs. Walsingham?” + +Amelia declared that she had none; that she was not one of those who +think that jealousy is the best proof of love. + +“Right, right,” said Mr. Palmer; “confidence is the best proof of love; +and yours, I’ll venture to say, is, and ever will be, well placed.” + +Captain Walsingham, with a grateful smile, took his letter again out of +his pocket, and immediately began to read it in a low voice to Amelia, +Lady Hunter, and Mr. Palmer. + + * * * * * + +“DEAR SIR, + +“Though almost a stranger to you, I should think myself wanting in +gratitude if I did not, after all the services you have done my family, +write to thank you in my niece’s name and in my own: and much I regret +that my words will so ill convey to you the sentiments of our hearts. +I am an old woman, not well accustomed to use my pen in the way of +letter-writing; but can say truly, that whilst I have life I shall be +grateful to you. You have restored me to happiness by restoring to me my +long-lost niece. It will, I am sure, give you satisfaction to hear, that +my niece--” + + * * * * * + +Captain Walsingham stopped short, with a look which confirmed Lady +Hunter in all her suspicions,--which made Mr. Palmer take out his +snuff-box,--which startled even Mr. Beaumont; but which did not raise +in the mind of Amelia the slightest feeling of doubt or suspicion. She +smiled, and looked round at her alarmed friends with a manner which +seemed to say, “Can you suppose it possible that there can be any thing +wrong?” + +“Pray go on, Captain Walsingham,” said Lady Hunter, “unless--unless you +have particular, very particular reasons.” + +“I have particular, very particular reasons,” said Captain Walsingham; +“and since,” turning to Amelia, “this confiding lady does not insist +upon my going on--” + +“Oh!” said Lady Hunter, gaily, snatching the letter, “I am not such a +credulous, or, as you call it, confiding lady.” + +“I beg of your ladyship not to read it,” said Captain Walsingham, in an +earnest tone. + +“You beg of me not to read it, and with that alarmed look--Oh! +positively, I must, and will read it.” + +“Not at present, then, I entreat you!” + +“This very instant,” cried Lady Hunter, affecting all the imperious +vivacity of a young bride, under favour of which she determined to +satisfy her malicious curiosity. + +“Pray, Lady Hunter, do not read it,” repeated Captain Walsingham, laying +his hand over the letter. “It is for your own sake,” added he, in a low +and earnest voice, “it is for your own sake, not mine, that I beg of you +to forbear.” + +Lady Hunter, imagining this to be only a subterfuge, drew the letter +from beneath Captain Walsingham’s hand, exclaiming, “For _my sake!_ Oh, +Captain, that is a charming _ruse de guerre_, but do not hope that it +shall succeed!” + +“Oh! mother, believe him, believe him,” cried Amelia: “I am sure he +tells you the truth, and he speaks for your sake, not for his own.” + +Amelia interceded in vain. + +Mr. Palmer patted Amelia’s shoulder fondly, saying, “You are a dear good +creature.” + +“A dear credulous creature!” exclaimed Lady Hunter. She had now +undisturbed possession of the letter. + +Captain Walsingham stood by with a face of great concern; in which +Amelia and Mr. Beaumont, without knowing the cause, seemed to +sympathize. + +The contest had early attracted the attention of all within hearing +or view of her ladyship, and by this time had been pointed out and +accounted for in whispers, even to the most remote parts of the room; so +that the eyes of almost every individual in the assembly were now fixed +upon Lady Hunter. She had scarcely glanced her eye upon the letter, when +she turned pale as death, and exclaimed, “He knew it! he knew it!” Then, +recollecting herself, she made a struggle to conceal her dismay--the +forced smile quivered on her lip,--she fell back in a swoon, and was +carried out of the room by her son and daughter. Sir John Hunter was at +another table, eating eel-pie, and was the last person present who was +made to understand what had happened. + +“It is the damned heat of the room, I suppose,” said he, “that made her +faint;” and swallowing the last morsel on his plate, and settling his +collar, he came up to Captain Walsingham. “What’s this I hear?--that +Lady Hunter has fainted? I hope they have carried her into the air. But +where’s the letter they say affected her so?” + +“In my pocket,” said Captain Walsingham, coolly. + +“Any thing new in it?” said Sir John, with a sulky, fashionable +indifference. + +“Nothing new to you, probably, Sir John,” said Captain Walsingham, +walking away from him in disgust. + +“I suppose it was the heat overcame Lady Hunter,” continued Sir John, +speaking to those who stood near him. “Is any body gone to see how she +is now? I wonder if they’ll let me in to see her.” + +With assumed carelessness, but with real embarrassment, the bridegroom +went to inquire for his bride. + +Good Mr. Palmer went soon afterwards, and knocked softly at the lady’s +door. “Is poor Lady Hunter any better?” + +“Oh! yes; quite well again now,” cried Lady Hunter, raising herself from +the bed, on which she had been laid; but Mr. Palmer thought, as he +saw her through the half-opened door, she still looked a deplorable +spectacle, in all her wedding finery. “Quite well again, now: it was +nothing in the world but the heat. Amelia, my love, go back to the +company, and say so, lest my friends should be uneasy. Thank you, kind +Mr. Palmer, for coming to see me: excuse my not being able to let you +in now, for I must change my dress. Sir John sends me word his barouche +will be at the door in ten minutes, and I have to hurry on my travelling +dress. Excuse me.” + +Mr. Palmer retired, seeing clearly that she wished to avoid any +explanation of the real cause of her fainting. In the gallery, leading +from her room, he met Captain Walsingham, who was coming to inquire for +Lady Hunter. + +“Poor woman! do you know the cause of her fainting?” said Captain +Walsingham. + +“No; and I believe she does not wish me to know it: therefore don’t tell +it me,” said Mr. Palmer. + +“It is a secret that must be in the public papers in a few days,” said +Captain Walsingham. “This lady that I brought over from Lisbon--” + +“Well, what can she have to say to Mrs. Beaumont?” + +“Nothing to Mrs. Beaumont, but a great deal to Lady Hunter. You +may remember that I mentioned to you that some of her relations had +contrived to have her kept in that convent abroad, and had spread a +report of her death, that the heir-at-law might defraud her of her +property, and get and keep possession of a large estate, which fell to +him in case of her death. Of further particulars, or even of the name of +this estate, I knew nothing till this morning, when that letter from +the aunt--here it is--tells me, that the estate to which her niece +was entitled is the great Wigram estate, and that old Wigram was the +rascally heir-at-law. The lawyer I recommended to the lady was both an +honest and a clever fellow; and he represented so forcibly to old Wigram +the consequences of his having his fraud brought to light in a court of +equity, that he made him soon agree to a private reference. The affair +has been compromised, and settled thus:--The possession of the estate is +given up, just as it stands, to the rightful owner; and she forbears +to call the old sinner to an account for past arrears. She will let him +make it out to the world and to his own conscience, if he can, that he +bona-fide believed her to be dead.” + +“So,” said Mr. Palmer, “so end Madam Beaumont’s hopes of being at +the head of the Wigram estate, and so end her hopes of being a +countess!--And actually married to this ruined spendthrift!--Now we see +the reason he pressed on the match so, and urged her to marry him before +the affair should become public. She is duped, and for life!--poor Madam +Beaumont!” + +At this moment Lady Hunter came out of her room, after having changed +her dress, and repaired her smiles. + +“Ready for my journey now,” said she, passing by Mr. Palmer quickly. “I +must show myself to the world of friends below, and bid them adieu. One +word, Captain Walsingham: there’s no occasion, you know,” whispered she, +“to say any thing _below_ of that letter; I really don’t believe it.” + +Too proud to let her mortification be known, Lady Hunter constrained +her feelings with all her might. She appeared once more with a pleased +countenance in the festive assembly. She received their compliments +and congratulations, and invited them, with all the earnestness of +friendship, to favour Sir John and her, as soon as possible, with their +company at Hunter Hall. The company were now fast departing; carriages +came to the door in rapid succession. Lady Hunter went through with +admirable grace and variety the sentimental ceremony of taking leave; +and when her splendid barouche was at the door, and when she was to bid +adieu to her own family, still she acted her part inimitably. In all the +becoming mixed smiles and tears of a bride, she was seen embracing by +turns her beloved daughter and son, and daughter-in-law and son-in-law, +over and over again, in the hall, on the steps; to the last moment +contriving to be torn delightfully from the bosom of her family by her +impatient bridegroom. Seated beside him in his barouche, she kissed her +hand to Mr. Palmer,--smiled: all her family, who stood on the steps, +bowed; and Sir John drove away with his prize. + +“He’s a swindler!” cried Mr. Palmer, “and she is--” + +“Amelia’s mother,” interrupted Captain Walsingham. + +“Right,” said Mr. Palmer; “but Amelia had a father too,--my excellent +friend, Colonel Beaumont,--whom she and her brother resemble in all that +is open-hearted and honourable. Well, well! I make no reflections; I +hate moral reflections. Every body can think and feel for themselves, I +presume. I only say,--Thank Heaven, we’ve done with _manoeuvring!_” + + + + + + +ALMERIA. + + +John Hodgkinson was an eminent and wealthy Yorkshire grazier, who had +no children of his own, but who had brought up in his family Almeria +Turnbull, the daughter of his wife by a former husband, a Mr. Turnbull. +Mr. Turnbull had also been a grazier, but had not been successful in the +management of his affairs, therefore he could not leave his daughter any +fortune; and at the death of her mother, she became entirely dependent +on her father-in-law. Old Hodgkinson was a whimsical man, who, except in +eating and drinking, had no inclination to spend any part of the +fortune he had made; but, enjoying the consequence which money confers, +endeavoured to increase this importance by keeping all his acquaintance +in uncertainty, as to what he called his “_testamentary dispositions_.” + Sometimes he hinted that his step-daughter should be a match for the +proudest riband in England; sometimes he declared, that he did not know +of what use money could be to a woman, except to make her a prey to +a fortune-hunter, and that his girl should not be left in a way to be +duped. + +As to his daughter’s education, that was an affair in which he did not +interfere: all that he wished was, that the girl should be kept humble, +and have no fine notions put into her head, nor any communication with +fine people. He kept company only with men of his own sort; and as he +had no taste for any kind of literature, Almeria’s time would have +hung rather heavy upon her hands, had she been totally confined to his +society: but, fortunately for her, there lived in the neighbourhood +an elderly gentleman and his daughter, whom her father allowed her +to visit. Mr. Elmour was a country gentleman of a moderate fortune, +a respectable family, and of a most amiable character: between his +daughter Ellen and Miss Turnbull there had subsisted an intimacy +from their earliest childhood. The professions of this friendship had +hitherto been much the warmest on the part of Almeria; the proofs +were, perhaps, the strongest on the side of Ellen. Miss Elmour, as +the daughter of a gentleman, whose family had been long settled in the +country, was rather _more considered_ than Miss Turnbull, who was the +daughter of a grazier, whose money had but lately raised him to the +level of gentility. At Mr. Elmour’s house Almeria had an opportunity +of being in much better company than she could ever have seen at her +father’s; better company in every respect, but chiefly in the popular, +or more properly in the aristocratic sense of the term: her visits had +consequently been long and frequent; she appeared to have a peculiar +taste for refinement in manners and conversation, and often deplored the +want she felt of these at home. She expressed a strong desire to acquire +information, and to improve herself in every elegant accomplishment; +and Ellen, who was of a character far superior to the little meanness +of female competition and jealousy, shared with her friend all the +advantages of her situation. Old Hodgkinson never had any books in his +house, but such as Almeria borrowed from Mr. Elmour’s library. Ellen +constantly sent Miss Turnbull all the new publications which her father +got from town--she copied for her friend the new music with which +she was supplied, showed her every new drawing or print, gave her the +advantage of the lessons she received from an excellent drawing master, +and let her into those little mysteries of art which masters sometimes +sell so dear. + +This was done with perfect readiness and simplicity: Ellen never seemed +conscious that she was bestowing a favour; but appeared to consider +what she did as matters of course, or as the necessary consequences of +friendship. She treated her friend at all times, and in all companies, +with that uniform attention and equality of manner, which most people +profess, and which so few have strength of mind to practise. Almeria +expressed, and probably at this time felt, unbounded gratitude and +affection for Ellen; indeed her expressions were sometimes so vehement, +that Miss Elmour rallied her for being romantic. Almeria one day +declared, that she should wish to pass all the days of her life at +Elmour Grove, without seeing any other human creatures but her friend +and her friend’s father. + +“Your imagination deceives you, my dear Almeria,” said Ellen, smiling. + +“It is my heart, not my imagination, that speaks,” said Almeria, laying +her hand upon her heart, or upon the place where she fancied her heart +ought to be. + +“Your understanding will, perhaps, speak a different language by and by, +and your heart will not be the worse for it, my good young lady,” said +old Mr. Elmour. + +Almeria persisted even to tears; and it was not till young Mr. Elmour +came home, and till she had spent a few weeks in his company, that she +began to admit that three was the number sacred to friendship. Frederick +Elmour was a man of honour, talents, spirit, and of a decided character: +he was extremely fond of his sister, and was prepossessed in favour +of every thing and person that she loved. Her intimate friend was +consequently interesting to him; and it must be supposed, that Miss +Elmour’s praises of Almeria were managed more judiciously than eulogiums +usually are, by the effect which they produced. Frederick became +attached to Miss Turnbull, though he perceived that, in firmness and +dignity of character, she was not equal to his sister. This inferiority +did not injure her in his opinion, because it was always acknowledged +with so much candour and humility by Almeria, who seemed to look up to +her friend as to a being of a superior order. This freedom from envy, +and this generous enthusiasm, first touched young Mr. Elmour’s heart. +Next to possessing his sister’s virtues and talents, loving them was, +in his opinion, the greatest merit. He thought that a person capable +of appreciating and admiring Ellen’s character, must be desirous +of imitating her; and the similarity of their tastes, opinions, +and principles, seemed to him the most secure pledge for his future +happiness. Miss Turnbull’s fortune, whatever it might be, was an object +of no great importance to him: his father, though not opulent, was in +easy circumstances, and was “willing,” he said, “to deprive himself of +some luxuries for the sake of his son, whom he would not controul in the +choice of a wife--a choice on which he knew, from his own experience, +that the happiness of life so much depends.” + +The benevolent old gentleman had peculiar merit in this conduct; because +if he had a weakness in the world, it was a prejudice in favour of what +is called _good family and birth_: it had long been the secret wish of +his heart that his only son might marry into a family as ancient as his +own. Frederick was fully sensible of the sacrifice that his father made +of his pride: but that which he was willing to make of what he called +his luxuries, his son’s affection and sense of justice forbade him +to accept. He could not rob his father of any of the comforts of his +declining years, whilst in the full vigour of youth it was in his power, +by his own exertions, to obtain an independent maintenance. He had +been bred to the bar; no expense had been spared by his father in his +education, no efforts had been omitted by himself. He was now ready +to enter on the duties of his profession with ardour, but without +presumption. + +Our heroine must be pardoned by the most prudent, and admired by the +most romantic, for being desperately in love with a youth of such a +character and such expectations. Whilst the young lady’s passion was +growing every hour more lively, her old father was growing every hour +more lethargic. He had a superstitious dread of making a will, as if +it were a preparation for death, which would hasten the fatal moment. +Hodgkinson’s friends tried to conquer this prejudice: but it was in vain +to reason with a man who had never reasoned during the whole of his life +about any thing except bullocks. Old Hodgkinson died--that was a matter +of no great consequence to any body--but he died without a will, and +that was a matter of some importance to his daughter. After searching in +every probable and improbable place, there was, at length, found in his +own handwriting a memorandum, the beginning of which was in the +first leaf of his cookery-book, and the end in the last leaf of his +prayer-book. There was some difficulty in deciphering the memorandum, +for it was cross-barred with miscellaneous observations in inks of +various colours--red, blue, and green. As it is dangerous to garble law +papers, we shall lay the document before the public just as it appeared. + +_Copy from first leaf of the Cookery-look_. + +I John Hodgkinson of Vetch-field, East Riding of Yorkshire, Grazier and +so forth, not choosing to style myself Gentleman, though entitled so to +do, do hereby certify, that when I can find an honest attorney, _it is +my_ intention to make my will and to leave-- + +[_Here the testator’s memorandum was interrupted by a receipt in a +diminutive female hand, seemingly written some years before_.] + +Mrs. Turnbull’s recipe, infallible for all aches, bruises, and strains. + +Take a handful of these herbs following--Wormwood, Sage, Broom-flowers, +Clown’s-All-heal, Chickweed, Cumphry, Birch, Groundsell, Agremony, +Southernwood, Ribwort, Mary Gould leaves, Bramble, Rosemary, Rue, +Eldertops, Camomile, Aly Campaigne-root, half a handful of Red +Earthworms, two ounces of Cummins-seeds, Deasy-roots, Columbine, Sweet +Marjoram, Dandylion, Devil’s bit, six pound of May butter, two pound of +Sheep suet, half a pound of Deer suet, a quart of salet oil beat well in +y’ boiling till the oil be green--Then strain--It will be better if you +add a dozen of Swallows, and pound all their Feathers, Gizzards, and +Heads before boiling--It will cure all aches--[9] + +[_Beneath this valuable recipe, Mr. Hodgkinson’s testamentary +dispositions continued as follows_.] + +All I am worth in the world real or personal-- + +To Collar a Pig. + +Take a young fat pig, and when he is well scalded, cut off his head, +then slit him down the back, take out his bones, lay him in a dish of +milk and water, and shift him twice a day--for the rest, turn to page +103. + +To my step-daughter Almeria, who is now at Elmour Grove in her +eighteenth year-- + +[_Written across the above in red ink_.] + +Mem’m--I prophecy this third day of August, that the man from Hull will +be here to-morrow with _fresh_ mullets. + +And as girls go, I believe a good girl, considering the times--but if +she disoblige me by marriage, or otherwise, I hereby revoke the same. + +[_Written diagonally in red ink_.] + +Mem’m--Weight of the Big Bullock, 90 score, besides offal. + +[_The value was so pale it could not be deciphered_.] + +And I further intend to except out of my above bequest to my daughter +Almeria, the sum of ... + +A fine method to make Punch of Valentia dram. v. page 7. + +Ten thousand pounds, now in Sir Thomas Stock’s my banker’s hands as a +token of remembrance to John Hodgkinson of Hull, on account of his being +my namesake, and, I believe, relation-- + + * * * * * + +[_Continuation in the last leaf of the prayer-book_.] + +It is my further intention (whenever I find said honest attorney fit +for my will) to leave sundry mourning rings with my hair value +(_blank_)--one in particular to Charles Elmour, sen. esquire, and also-- + +[_Upside down, in red ink_.] + +Mem’m--Yorkshire Puddings--Knox says good in my case. + +Hodgkinson late Hannah A Turnbull (my wife) her prayer book, born Dec’r +5th, 1700, died Jan’y 4th, 1760; leaving only behind her, in this world, +Almeria Turnbull (my step daughter). + +Also another mourning ring to Frederick, the son of Charles Elmour, Esq. +and ditto to Ellen his daughter, if I have hair enough under my wig. + +[_Diagonal in red ink_.] + +Mem’m--To know from Dr. Knox by return of post what is good against +sleep--in my case-- + +This is the short of my will--the attorney (when found) will make it +long enough.--And I hereby declare, that I will write no other will with +my own hand, for man, woman, or child--And that I will and do hereby +disinherit any person or persons--male or female--good--bad--or +indifferent--who shall take upon them to advise or speak to me about +making or writing my will--which is no business of theirs--This my last +resolution and memorandum, dated, this 5th of August--reap to-morrow, +(glass rising)--1766, and signed with my own hand, same time. + +John Hodgkinson, grazier & so forth. + + * * * * * + +Now it happened, that Mr. Hodgkinson’s namesake and relation disdained +the ten thousand pounds legacy, and claimed the whole property as +heir-at-law. Almeria, who was utterly unacquainted with business, +applied to Mr. Elmour in this difficulty, and he had the goodness to +undertake the management of her affairs. Frederick engaged to carry +on her law-suit, and to plead her cause against this rapacious Mr. +Hodgkinson of Hull.--Whilst the suit was pending, Miss Turnbull had +an opportunity of seeing something of the ways of the world; for the +manners of her Yorkshire acquaintance, of all but Ellen and the Elmours, +varied towards her, according to the opinion formed of the probable +event of the trial on which her fortune depended. She felt these +variations most keenly. In particular, she was provoked by the conduct +of Lady Stock, who was at this time _the_ fashionable lady of York: Sir +Thomas, her husband, was a great banker; and whenever she condescended +to visit her friends in the country, she shone upon them in all the +splendour and pride of wealth. Miss Turnbull, immediately after her +father’s death, went, accompanied by old Mr. Elmour, to Sir Thomas +Stock, to settle accounts with him: she was received by his lady as a +great heiress, with infinite civility; her visit punctually returned, +and an invitation to dinner sent to her and the Elmours with all due +expedition. As she seemed to wish to accept of it, her friends agreed to +accompany her, though in general they disliked fine dinners; and though +they seldom left their retirement to mix in the gaieties of York. +Miss Turnbull was received in rather a different manner from what she +expected upon this occasion; for between the sending and the accepting +of the invitation, Lady Stock had heard that her title to the fortune +was disputed, and that many were of an opinion that, instead of having +two hundred thousand pounds, she would not have a shilling. Almeria was +scarcely noticed, on her entrance, by the lady of the house; she found +herself in a formidable circle, where every body seemed to consider +her as being out of her place. At dinner she was suffered to go to a +side-table. From the moment she entered the house till she left it, Lady +Stock never deigned to speak to her, nor for one instant to recollect +that such a person existed. Not even Madame Roland, when she was sent +to the second table at the fermier general’s, expressed more indignation +than Almeria did, at the insolence of this banker’s lady. She could +think and speak of nothing else, all the time she was going home in +the evening to Elmour Grove. Ellen, who had more philosophy than our +heroine, did not sympathize in the violence of her indignation: on the +contrary, she was surprised that Almeria could feel so much hurt by the +slights of a woman, for whom she had neither esteem nor affection, and +with whom she was indeed scarcely acquainted. + +“But does not her conduct excite your indignation?” said Miss Turnbull. + +“No: it rather deserves my contempt. If a friend--if you, for instance, +had treated me in such a manner, it would have provoked my anger, I dare +say.” + +“I! Oh, how impossible!” cried Almeria. “Such insufferable pride! Such +downright rudeness!--She was tolerably civil to you, but me she never +noticed: and this sudden change, it seems, Frederick, arises from her +doubts of my fortune.--Is not such meanness really astonishing?” + +“It would be astonishing, perhaps,” replied Frederick, “if we did not +see similar instances every day.--Lady Stock, you know, is nothing but a +mere woman of the world.” + +“I hate mere women of the world,” cried Almeria. + +Ellen observed, that it was not worth while to hate, it was sufficient +to avoid them.--Almeria grew warmer in her abhorrence; and Ellen at +last expressed, half in jest, half in earnest, some fear, that if Miss +Turnbull felt with such exquisite sensibility the neglect of persons +of fashion, she might in a different situation be ambitious, or vain of +their favour. Almeria was offended, and was very near quarrelling with +her friend for harbouring such a mean opinion of her character. + +“Do you imagine that _I could_ ever make a friend of such a person as +Lady Stock?” + +“A friend! far from it. I am very sure that you could not.” + +“Then how could I be ambitious of her favour? I am desirous only of the +favour, esteem, and affection of my friends.” + +“But people who live in what is called the world, you know, my dear +Almeria, desire to have acquaintance as well as friends,” said Ellen; +“and they value those by their fashion or rank, and by the honour which +may be received from their notice in public places.” + +“Yes, my dear,” interrupted Almeria; “though I have never been in +London, as you have, I understand all that perfectly well, I assure +you; but I only say, that I am certain I should never judge, and that I +should never act, in such a manner.” + +Ellen smiled, and said, “It is difficult to be certain of what we should +do in situations in which we have never been placed.”--Almeria burst +into tears, and her friend could scarcely pacify her by the kindest +expressions. + +“Observe, my dear Almeria, that I said _we,_ not _you_: I do not pretend +that, till I have been tried, I could be certain of my own strength of +mind in new situations: I believe it is from weakness, that people are +often so desirous of the notice of persons for whom they have no esteem. +If I were forced to live among a certain set of company, I suppose I +should, in time, do just as they do; for I confess, that I do not think +I could bear every day to be utterly neglected in society, even such as +we have been in to-day.” + +Almeria wondered to hear her friend speak with so little confidence of +her own spirit and independence; and vehemently declared that she was +certain no change of external circumstances could make any alteration in +her sentiments and feelings. Ellen forbore to press the subject farther, +although the proofs which Almeria had this day given of her stoicism +were not absolutely conclusive. + +About a month after this conversation had passed, the suit against Miss +Turnbull, to set aside Mr. Hodgkinson’s will, was tried at York. The +court was crowded at an early hour; for much entertainment was expected, +from the oddity of old Hodgkinson’s _testamentary dispositions_: +besides, the large amount of the property at stake could not fail to +make the cause interesting. Several ladies appeared in the galleries; +among the rest, Lady Stock--Miss Elmour was there also, to accompany +Almeria--Frederick was one of her counsel; and when it came to his turn +to speak, he pleaded her cause with so much eloquence and ability, as to +obtain universal approbation. After a trial, which lasted many hours, +a verdict was given in Miss Turnbull’s favour. An immediate change +appeared in the manners of all her acquaintance--they crowded round her +with smiles and congratulations; and persons with whom she was scarcely +acquainted, or who had, till now, hardly deigned to acknowledge her +acquaintance, accosted her with an air of intimacy. Lady Stock, in +particular, recovered, upon this occasion, both her sight and speech: +she took Almeria’s hand most graciously, and went on chattering with the +greatest volubility, as they stood at the door of the court-house. Her +ladyship’s handsome equipage had drawn up, and she offered to carry Miss +Turnbull home: Almeria excused herself, but felt ashamed, when she saw +the look of contempt which her ladyship bestowed on Mr. Elmour’s old +coach, which was far behind a number of others, and which could but ill +bear a comparison with a new London carriage. Angry with herself for +this weakness, our heroine endeavoured to conceal it even from her own +mind; and feelings of gratitude to her friends revived in her heart the +moment she was out of the sight of her fine acquaintance. She treated +Ellen with even more than usual fondness; and her acknowledgments of +obligation to her counsel and his father were expressed in the strongest +terms. In a few days, there came a pressing invitation from Lady Stock; +Mr. Elmour had accounts of Miss Turnbull’s to settle with Sir Thomas, +and, notwithstanding the air of indifference with which she read the +cards, Almeria was not sorry to accept of the invitation, as she knew +that she should be received in a very different manner from that in +which she had been treated on her former visit. She laughed, and said, +“that she should be entertained by observing the change which a few +thousand pounds more or less could produce in Lady Stock’s behaviour.” + Yet, such is the inconsistency or the weakness of human wishes, that the +very attentions which our heroine knew were paid merely to her fortune, +and not to her merit, flattered her vanity; and she observed, with a +strange mixture of pain and pleasure, that there was a marked difference +in Lady Stock’s manner towards her and _the Elmours_. When the evening +was over, and when she “had leisure to be good,” Almeria called herself +severely to account for this secret satisfaction, of which she had been +conscious from the preference given her over her friends--she +accused herself of ingratitude, and endeavoured to recover her own +self-complacency by redoubled professions of esteem and affection +for those to whom she had so much reason to be attached. But fresh +invitations came from Lady Stock, and the course of her thoughts again +changed. Ellen declined accompanying her; and Miss Turnbull regretted +this exceedingly, because it would be so distressing and awkward for her +to go _alone_. + +“Then why do you go at all, my dear?” said Ellen; “you speak as if there +were some moral necessity for your visit.” + +“Moral necessity! oh, no,” said Almeria, laughing; “but I really think +there is a _polite_ necessity, if you will allow me the expression. +Would it not be rude for all of us to refuse, when Lady Stock has made +this music party, as she says, entirely on my account--on our account, +I mean? for you see she mentions your fondness for music; and if she had +not written so remarkably civilly to you, I assure you I would neither +go myself, nor think of pressing you to go.” + +This oratory had no effect upon Ellen: our heroine went alone to +the music meeting. The old coach returned to Elmour Grove at night, +empty--the servant brought “Lady Stock’s compliments, and she would +send her carriage home with Miss Turnbull early the next morning.” After +waiting above an hour and a half beyond their usual time, the family +were sitting down to dinner the next day, when Miss Turnbull, in Lady +Stock’s fine carriage, drove up the avenue--Frederick handed her out +of the carriage with more ceremony and less affection than he had ever +shown before. Old Mr. Elmour’s manner was also more distant, and Ellen’s +colder. Almeria attempted to apologize, but could not get through her +speech:--she then tried to laugh at her own awkwardness; but her +laugh not being seconded, she sat down to dinner in silence, colouring +prodigiously, and totally abashed. Good old Mr. Elmour was the first +to relent, and to endeavour, by resuming his usual kind familiarity, to +relieve her painful confusion. Ellen’s coolness was also dissipated when +Miss Turnbull took her aside after dinner, and with tears in her eyes +declared, “she was sorry she had not had sufficient strength of mind +to resist Lady Stock’s importunities to stay all night;--that as to the +carriage, it was sent back without her knowledge; and that this morning, +though she had three or four times expressed her fears that she should +keep her friends at Elmour Grove waiting for dinner, yet Lady Stock +would not understand her hints;” and she declared, “she got away the +very instant her ladyship’s carriage came to the door.” By Ellen’s kind +interposition, Frederick, whose pride had been most ready to take the +alarm at the least appearance of slight to his father and sister, was +pacified--he laid aside his ceremony to _Miss Turnbull_; called her +“Almeria,” as he used to do--and all was well again. With difficulty and +blushes, Almeria came out with an after-confession, that she had been so +silly as to make half a promise to Lady Stock, of going to her ball, and +of spending a few days with her at York, before she left the country. + +“But this promise was only conditional,” said she: “if you or your +father would take it the least ill or unkindly of me, I assure you I +will not go--I would rather offend all the Lady Stocks in the world than +you, my dearest Ellen, or your father, to whom I am so much obliged.” + +“Do not talk of obligations,” interrupted Ellen; “amongst friends there +can be no obligations. I will answer for it that my father will not be +offended at your going to this ball; and I assure you I shall not take +it unkindly. If you would not think me very proud, I should tell you +that I wish for our sakes, as well as your own, that you should see as +much of this Lady Stock, and as many _Lady Stocks_, as possible; for I +am convinced that, upon _intimate_ acquaintance, we must rise in your +opinion.” + +Almeria protested that she had never for an instant thought of +comparing Ellen with Lady Stock. “A friend, a bosom friend, with an +acquaintance--an acquaintance of yesterday!--I never thought of making +such a comparison.” + +“That is the very thing of which I complain,” said Ellen, smiling: +“I beg you will make the comparison, my dear Almeria; and the more +opportunities you have of forming your judgment, the better.” + +Notwithstanding that there was something rather humiliating to Miss +Turnbull in the dignified composure with which Ellen now, for the first +time in her life, implied her own superiority, Almeria secretly rejoiced +that it was at her friend’s own request that the visits to her fine +acquaintance were repeated. At Lady Stock’s ball Miss Turnbull was +much _distinguished,_ as it is called--Sir Thomas’s eldest son was her +partner; and though he was not remarkably agreeable, yet his attentions +were flattering to her vanity, because the rival belles of York vied for +his homage. The delight of being taken notice of in public was new to +Almeria, and it quite intoxicated her brain. Six hours’ sleep afterwards +were not sufficient to sober her completely; as her friends at Elmour +Grove perceived the next morning--she neither talked, looked, nor moved +like herself, though she was perfectly unconscious that in this delirium +of vanity and affectation she was an object of pity and disgust to the +man she loved. + +Ellen had sufficient good-nature and candour to make allowance for +foibles in others from which her own character was totally free; she +was clear-sighted to the merits, but not blind to the faults, of her +friends; and she resolved to wait patiently till Almeria should return +to herself. Miss Turnbull, in compliance with her friend’s advice, +took as many opportunities as possible of being with Lady Stock. Her +ladyship’s company was by no means agreeable to Almeria’s natural taste; +for her ladyship had neither sense nor knowledge, and her conversation +consisted merely of common-place phrases, or the second-hand affectation +of fashionable nonsense: yet, though Miss Turnbull felt no actual +pleasure in her company, she was vain of being of her parties, and even +condescended to repeat some of her sayings, in which there was neither +sense nor wit. From having lived much in the London world, her +ladyship was acquainted with a prodigious number of names of persons of +consequence and quality; and by these our heroine’s ears were charmed. +Her ladyship’s dress was also an object of admiration and imitation, +and the York ladies begged patterns of every thing she wore. Almeria +consequently thought that no other clothes could be worn with propriety; +and she was utterly ashamed of her past self for having lived so long +in ignorance, and for having had so bad a taste, as ever to have thought +Ellen Elmour a model for imitation. + +“Miss Elmour,” her ladyship said, “was a very sensible young woman, no +doubt; but she could hardly be considered as a model of fashion.” + +A new standard for estimating merit was raised in Almeria’s mind; and +her friend, for an instant, sunk before the vast advantage of having +the most fashionable mantua-maker and milliner in town. Ashamed of this +dereliction of principle, she a few minutes afterwards warmly pronounced +a panegyric on Ellen, to which Lady Stock only replied with a vacant, +supercilious countenance, “May be so--no doubt--of course--the Elmours +are a very respectable family, I’m told--and really more genteel than +the country families one sees: but is not it odd, they don’t _mix +more?_ One seldom meets them in town any where, or at any of the +watering-places in summer.” + +To this charge, Almeria, with blushes, was forced to plead guilty for +her friends: she, however, observed, in mitigation, “that when they +were in town, what company they did see was always the best, she +believed--that she knew, for one person, the Duchess of A---- was a +friend of the Elmours, and corresponded with Ellen.” + +This judicious defence produced an immediate effect upon Lady Stock’s +countenance; her eyebrows descended from the high arch of contempt: and +after a pause, she remarked, “it was strange that they had not accepted +of any of the invitations she had lately sent them--she fancied they +were, as indeed they had the character of being, very proud people--and +very odd.” + +Almeria denied the pride and the oddity; but observed, “that they were +all remarkably fond of _home_.” + +“Well, my dear Miss Turnbull, that’s what I call odd; but I am sure I +have nothing to say against all that--it is the fashion now to let every +body do as they please: if the Elmours like to bury themselves alive, +I’m sure I can’t have the smallest objection; I only hope they don’t +insist upon burying you along with them--I’m going to Harrowgate for a +few days, and I must have you with me, my dear.” + +Our heroine hesitated. Lady Stock smiled, and said, she saw Miss +Turnbull was terribly afraid of these Elmours; that for her part, she +was the last person in the world to break through old connexions; but +that really some people ought to consider that other people cannot +always live as they do; that one style of life was fit for one style of +fortune, and one for another; and that it would look very strange to the +world, if an heiress with two hundred thousand pounds fortune, who if +she produced herself might be in the first circles in town, were to be +boxed up at Elmour Grove, and precluded from all advantages and offers +that she might of course expect. + +To do our heroine justice, she here interrupted Lady Stock with more +eagerness than strict politeness admitted, and positively declared that +her friends never for one moment wished to confine her at Elmour Grove. +“On the contrary,” said she, “they urged me to go into company, and to +see something of the world, before I--” marry, she was going to say--but +paused. + +Lady Stock waited for the finishing word; but when it did not come, she +went on just as if it had been pronounced. “The Elmours do vastly right +and proper to talk to you in this style, for they would be very much +blamed in the world if they acted otherwise. You know, young Elmour +has his fortune to make--very clever certainly he is, and will rise--no +doubt--I’m told--in his profession--but all that is not the same as a +ready-made fortune, which an heiress like you has a right to expect. But +do not let me annoy you with my reflections. Perhaps there is nothing +in the report--I really only repeat what I hear every body say. In what +every body says, you know there must be something. I positively think +you ought to show, in justice to the Elmours themselves, that you are +at liberty, and that they do not want to monopolize you--in this +unaccountable sort of way.” + +To this last argument our heroine yielded, or to this she chose to +attribute her yielding. She went to Harrowgate with Lady Stock; +and every day and every hour she became more desirous of appearing +fashionable. To this one object all her thoughts were directed. Living +in public was to her a new life, and she was continually sensible of her +dependence upon the opinion of her more experienced companion. She +felt the _awkwardness_ of being surrounded by people with whom she was +unacquainted. At first, whenever she appeared she imagined that every +body was looking at her, or talking about her, and she was in perpetual +apprehension that something in her dress or manners should become +the subject of criticism or ridicule: but from this fear she was soon +relieved, by the conviction that most people were so occupied with +themselves as totally to overlook her. Sometimes indeed she heard the +whispered question of “Who is that with Lady Stock?” and the mortifying +answer, “I do not know.” However, when Lady Stock had introduced her to +some of her acquaintance as a great heiress, the scene changed, and +she found herself treated with much _consideration_; though still the +fashionable belles took sufficient care to make her sensible of her +inferiority. She longed to be upon an equal footing with them. Whilst +her mind was in this state, Sir Thomas Stock, one morning, when he +was settling some money business with her, observed that she would in +another year be of age, and of course would take her affairs into her +own hands; but in the mean time it would be necessary to appoint a +guardian; and that the choice depended upon herself. She instantly named +her friend Mr. Elmour. Sir Thomas insinuated that old Mr. Elmour, though +undoubtedly a most unexceptionable character, was not exactly the most +eligible person for a guardian to a young lady, whose large fortune +entitled her to live in a fashionable style. That if it was Miss +Turnbull’s intention to fix in the country, Mr. Elmour certainly was +upon the spot, and a very fit guardian; but that if she meant to appear, +as doubtless she would, in town, she would of course want another +conductor. + +“To cut the matter short at once, my dear,” said Lady Stock, “you +must come to town with me next winter, and choose Sir Thomas for your +guardian. I’m sure it will give him the greatest pleasure in the world +to do any thing in his power--and you will have no difficulties with +him; for you see he is not a man to bore you with all manner of advice; +in short, he would only be your guardian for form’s sake; and that, you +know, would be the pleasantest footing imaginable. Come, here is a pen +and ink and gilt paper; write to old Elmour this minute, and let me have +you all to myself.” + +Almeria was taken by surprise: she hesitated--all her former +professions, all her obligations to the Elmour family, recurred to her +mind--her friendship for Ellen--her love, or what she had thought love, +for Frederick:--she could not decide upon a measure that might offend +them, or appear ungrateful; yet her desire of going to town with Lady +Stock was ardent, and she knew not how to refuse Sir Thomas’s offer +without displeasing him. She saw that all future connexion with _the +Stocks_ depended on her present determination--she took a middle course, +and suggested that she might have two guardians, and then she should be +able to avail herself of Sir Thomas’s obliging offer without offending +her old friends. In consequence of this convenient arrangement, she +wrote to Mr. Elmour, enclosing her letter in one to Ellen, in which the +embarrassment and weakness of her mind were evident, notwithstanding all +her endeavours to conceal them. After a whole page of incomprehensible +apologies, for having so long delayed to write to her dearest Ellen; and +after professions of the warmest affection, esteem, and gratitude, +for her friends at Elmour Grove; she in the fourth page of her epistle +opened her real business, by declaring that she should ever, from the +conviction she felt of the superiority of Ellen’s understanding, +follow her judgment, however repugnant it might sometimes be to her +inclinations; that she therefore had resolved, in pursuance of Ellen’s +advice, to take an opportunity of seeing the gay world, and had accepted +of an invitation from Lady Stock to spend the winter with her in +town--that she had also accepted of Sir Thomas Stock’s offer to become +one of her guardians, as she thought it best to trouble her good friend +Mr. Elmour as little as possible at his advanced age. + +In answer to this letter, she received a few lines from Mr. Elmour, +requesting to see her before she should go to town: accordingly upon her +return to York, she went to Elmour Grove to take leave of her friends. +She was under some anxiety, but resolved to carry it off with that +ease, or affectation of ease, which she had learnt during her six weeks’ +apprenticeship to a fine lady at Harrowgate. She was surprised that no +Frederick appeared to greet her arrival; the servant showed her into Mr. +Elmour’s study. The good old gentleman received her with that proud +sort of politeness, which was always the sign, and the only sign, of his +being displeased. + +“You will excuse me, Miss Turnbull,” said he, “for giving you the +trouble of coming here; it was my business to have waited on you, but +I have been so far unwell lately, that it was not in my power to leave +home; and these are papers,” continued he, “which I thought it my duty +to deliver into your own hands.” + +Whilst Mr. Elmour was tying up these papers, and writing upon them, +Almeria began two sentences with “I hope,” and “I am afraid,” without in +the least knowing what she hoped or feared. She was not yet sufficiently +perfect in the part of a fine lady to play it well. Mr. Elmour looked up +from his writing with an air of grave attention when she began to speak, +but after waiting in vain for an intelligible sentence, he proceeded. + +“You have judged very wisely for me, Miss Turnbull, in relieving my +declining years from the fatigue of business: no man understands the +management or the value of money better than Sir Thomas Stock, and +you could not, madam, in this point of view, have chosen a more proper +guardian.” + +Almeria said, “that she hoped Mr. Elmour would always permit her +to consider him as her best friend, to whose advice she should have +recourse in preference to that of any person upon earth;” recovering her +assurance as she went on speaking, and recollecting some of the hints +Lady Stock had given her, about the envy and jealousy of the Elmours, +and of their scheme of monopolizing her fortune; she added a few +commonplace phrases about respectability--gratitude--and great +obligations--then gave a glance at Lady Stock’s handsome carriage, +which was waiting at the door--then asked for Miss Elmour--and hoped she +should not be so unfortunate as to miss seeing her before she left the +country, as she came on purpose to take leave of her--then looked at her +watch:--but all this was said and done with the awkwardness of a novice +in the art of giving herself airs. Mr. Elmour, without being in the +least irritated by her manner, was all the time considering how he +could communicate, with the least possible pain, what he had further to +say--“You speak of me, Miss Turnbull, as of one of your guardians, in +the letter I had the favour of receiving from you a few days ago,” said +he; “but you must excuse me for declining that honour. Circumstances +have altered materially since I first undertook the management of your +affairs, and my future interference, or perhaps even my advice, might +not appear as disinterested as formerly.” + +Miss Turnbull here interrupted him with an exclamation of astonishment, +and made many protestations of entire dependence upon his disinterested +friendship. He waited with proud patience till she had finished her +eulogium. + +“How far the generous extent of your confidence, madam, reaches, or may +hereafter reach,” said he, “must be tried by others, not by me--nor yet +by my son.” + +Almeria changed colour. + +“He has left it to me, madam, to do that for him, which perhaps he +feared he might not have sufficient resolution to do for himself--to +return to you these letters and this picture; and to assure you that he +considers you as entirely at liberty to form any connexion that may be +suited to your present views and circumstances.” + +Mr. Elmour put into her hand a packet of her own letters to Frederick, +and a miniature picture of herself, which she had formerly given to her +lover. This was an unexpected stroke. His generosity--his firmness of +character--the idea of losing him for ever--all rushed upon her mind at +once. + +Artificial manners vanish the moment the natural passions are touched. +Almeria clasped her hands in an agony of grief, and exclaimed, “Is he +gone? gone for ever?--I have deserved it!”--The letters and picture fell +from her hand, and she sunk back quite overpowered. When she recovered, +she found herself in the open air on a seat under Mr. Elmour’s study +windows, and Ellen beside her. + +“Pity, forgive, and advise me, my dear, my best, my only real friend,” + said Almeria: “never did I want your advice so much as at this moment.” + +“You shall have it, then, without reserve,” said Ellen, “and without +fear that it should be attributed to any unworthy motive. I could almost +as soon wish for my brother’s death as desire to see him united to any +woman, let her beauty and accomplishments be what they might, who had +a mean or frivolous character, such as could consider money as the +greatest good, or dissipation as the prime object of life. I am firmly +persuaded, my dear Almeria, that however you may be dazzled by the first +view of what is called fashionable life, you will soon see things as +they really are, and that you will return to your former tastes and +feelings.” + +“Oh! I am, I am returned to them!” cried Almeria; “I will write directly +to Lady Stock and to Sir Thomas, to tell them that I have changed my +mind--only prevail upon your father to be my guardian.” + +“That is out of my power,” said Ellen; “and I think that it is much +better you should be as you are, left completely at liberty, and +entirely independent of us. I advise you, Almeria, to persist in your +scheme of spending the ensuing winter in town with Lady Stock--then you +will have an opportunity of comparing your own different feelings, +and of determining what things are essential to your happiness. If +you should find that the triumphs of fashion delight you more than the +pleasures of domestic life; pursue them--your fortune will put it +in your power; you will break no engagements; and you will have no +reproaches to fear from us. On the contrary, if you find that your +happiness depends upon friendship and love, and that the life we +formerly led together is that which you prefer, you will return to +Elmour Grove, to your friend and your lover, and your choice will not be +that of romance, but of reason.” + +It was with difficulty that Almeria, in her present fit of enthusiasm, +could be brought to listen to sober sense and true friendship. Her +parting from Ellen and Mr. Elmour cost her many tears, and she returned +to her fashionable friend with swollen eyes and a heavy heart. Her +sorrow, however, was soon forgotten in the bustle and novelty of a +new situation. Upon her arrival in London, fresh trains of ideas were +quickly forced upon her mind, which were as dissimilar as possible from +those associated with love, friendship, and Elmour Grove. At Sir Thomas +Stock’s, every thing she saw and heard served to remind, or rather to +convince her, of the opulence of the owner of the house. Here every +object was estimated, not for its beauty or elegance, but by its +costliness. Money was the grand criterion, by which the worth of animate +and inanimate objects was alike decided. In this society, the worship of +the golden idol was avowed without shame or mystery; and all who did not +bow the knee to it were considered as hypocrites or fools. Our heroine, +possessed of two hundred thousand pounds, could not fail to have a large +share of incense--every thing she said, or looked, was applauded in Sir +Thomas Stock’s family; and she would have found admiration delightful, +if she had not suspected that her fortune alone entitled her to all this +applause. This was rather a mortifying reflection. By degrees, however, +her delicacy on this subject abated; she learned philosophically to +consider her fortune a thing so immediately associated with herself +as to form a part of her personal merit. Upon this principle, she soon +became vain of her wealth, and she was led to overrate the consequence +that riches bestow on their possessor. + +In a capital city, such numerous claimants for distinction appear, with +beauty, birth, wit, fashion, or wealth to support their pretensions, +that the vanity of an individual, however clamorous, is immediately +silenced, if not humbled. When Miss Turnbull went into public, she +was surprised by the discovery of her own, nay even of Lady Stock’s +insignificance. At York her ladyship was considered as a personage high +as human veneration could look; but in London she was lost in a crowd of +fellow-mortals. + +It is, perhaps, from this sense of humiliation, that individuals combine +together, to obtain by their union that importance and self-complacency, +which separately they could never enjoy. Miss Turnbull observed, that +a numerous acquaintance was essential to those who lived much in +public--that the number of bows and curtsies, and the consequence of the +persons by whom they are given or received, is the measure of merit and +happiness. Nothing can be more melancholy than most places of public +amusement, to those who are strangers to the crowds which fill them. + +Few people have such strength of mind as to be indifferent to the +opinions of numbers, even considered merely as numbers; hence those who +live in crowds, in fact surrender the power of thinking for themselves, +either in trifles or matters of consequence. Our heroine had imagined +before she came to town, that Lady Stock moved in the highest circle +of fashion; but she soon perceived that many of the people of rank who +visited her ladyship, and who partook of her sumptuous entertainments, +thought they condescended extremely whilst they paid this homage to +wealth. + +One night at the Opera, Almeria happened to be seated in the next box to +Lady Bradstone, a proud woman of high family, who considered all whose +genealogy could not vie in antiquity with her own as upstarts that ought +to be kept down. Her ladyship, either not knowing or not caring who was +in the next box to her, began to ridicule an entertainment which had +been given a few days before by Lady Stock. From her entertainment, the +transition was easy to her character, and to that of her whole family. +Young Stock was pronounced to have all the purse-proud self-sufficiency +of a banker, and all the pertness of a clerk; even his bow seemed as if +it came from behind the counter. + +Till this moment Almeria had at least permitted, if not encouraged, this +gentleman’s assiduities; for she had hitherto seen him only in +company where he had been admired: his attentions, therefore, had been +flattering to her vanity. But things now began to appear in quite a +different light: she saw Mr. Stock in the point of view in which Lady +Bradstone placed him; and felt that she might be degraded, but could not +be elevated, in the ranks of fashion by such an admirer. She began to +wish that she was not so intimately connected with a family which was +ridiculed for want of taste, and whose wealth, as she now suspected, was +their only ticket of admittance into the society of the truly elegant. +In the land of fashion, “Alps on Alps arise;” and no sooner has the +votary reached the summit of one weary ascent than another appears +higher still and more difficult of attainment. Our heroine now became +discontented in that situation, which but a few months before had been +the grand object of her ambition. + +In the mean time, as Mr. Stock had not overheard Lady Bradstone’s +conversation at the Opera, and as he had a comfortably good opinion of +himself, he was sure that he was making a rapid progress in the lady’s +favour. He had of late seldom heard her mention any of her friends +at Elmour Grove; and he was convinced that her romantic attachment to +Frederick must have been conquered by his own superior address. Her +fortune was fully as agreeable to him as to his money-making father: +the only difference between them was, that he loved to squander, and +his father to hoard gold. Extravagance frequently produces premature +avarice--young Mr. Stock calculated Miss Turnbull’s fortune, weighed +it against that of every other young lady within the sphere of his +attractions, found the balance in her favour by some thousands, made his +proposal in form, and could not recover his astonishment, when he found +himself in form rejected. Sir Thomas and Lady Stock used all their +influence in his favour, but in vain: they concluded that Almeria’s +passion for Frederick Elmour was the cause of this refusal; and they +directed their arguments against the folly of marrying for love. Our +heroine was at this time more in danger of the folly of marrying for +fashion: not that she had fixed her fancy upon any man of fashion in +particular, but she had formed an exalted idea of the whole species--and +she regretted that Frederick was not in that magic circle in which +all her hopes of happiness now centred. She wrote kind letters to Miss +Elmour, but each letter was written with greater difficulty than the +preceding; for she had lost all interest in the occupations which +formerly were so delightful. She and Ellen had now few ideas in common; +and her epistles dwindled into apologies for long silence--promises +of being a better correspondent in future--reasons for breaking these +promises--hopes of pardon, &c. Ellen, however, continued steady in her +belief that her friend would at last prove worthy of her esteem, and of +her brother’s love. The rejection of Mr. Stock, which Almeria did not +fail to mention, confirmed this favourable opinion. + +When that gentleman was at length with some difficulty convinced that +our heiress had decided against him, his manners and those of his +family changed towards her from the extreme of civility to that of +rudeness--they spoke of her as a coquette and a jilt, and a person who +gave herself very extraordinary airs. She was vexed, and alarmed--and in +her first confusion and distress thought of retreating to her friends +at Elmour Grove. She wrote a folio sheet to Ellen, unlike her late +apologetic epistles, full of the feelings of her heart, and of a +warm invective against fashionable and interested _friends_. After a +narrative of her quarrel with the Stocks, she declared that she would +immediately quit her London acquaintance and return to her best friend. +But the very day after she had despatched this letter she changed her +mind, and formed a new idea of a _best friend_. + +One morning she went with Lady Stock to a bookseller’s, whose shop +served as a fashionable _lounge_. Her ladyship valued books, like all +other things, in proportion to the money which they cost: she had +no taste for literature, but a great fancy for accumulating the most +expensive publications, which she displayed ostentatiously as part of +the costly furniture of her house. Whilst she was looking over some +literary luxuries, rich in all the elegance of hot-press and vellum +binding, Lady Bradstone and a party of her friends came into the room. +She immediately attracted and engrossed the attention of all present. +Lady Stock turned over the leaves of the fine books, and asked their +prices; but she had the mortification to perceive that she was an object +rather of derision than of admiration to the new comers. None are so +easily put out of countenance by airs, as those who are most apt to +play them off on their inferiors. Lady Stock bit her lips in evident +embarrassment, and the awkwardness of her distress increased the +confidence and triumph of her adversary. She had some time before +provoked Lady Bradstone by giving a concert in opposition to one of +hers, and by engaging, at an enormous expense, a celebrated performer +for _her night_: hostilities had thenceforward been renewed at every +convenient opportunity, by the contending fair ones. Lady Bradstone now +took occasion loudly to lament her extreme poverty; and she put this +question to all her party, whether if they had it in their power they +should prefer having more money than taste, or more taste than money? +They were going to decide _par acclamation_, but her ladyship insisted +upon taking each vote separately, because this prolonged the torments of +her rival, who heard the preference of taste to money reiterated half a +dozen times over, with the most provoking variety of insulting emphasis. +Almeria’s sufferings during this scene were far more poignant than those +of the person against whom the ridicule was aimed: not that she pitied +Lady Stock--no; she would have rejoiced to have seen her humbled to the +dust, if she could have escaped all share in her mortification: but as +she appeared as her ladyship’s acquaintance, she apprehended that she +might be mistaken for her friend. An opportunity offered of marking the +difference. The bookseller asked Lady Stock if she chose to put her name +down in a list of subscribers to a new work. The book, she saw, was to +be dedicated to Lady Bradstone--and that was sufficient to decide her +against it. + +She declared that she never supported such things either by her name +or her money; that for her part she was no politician; that she thought +female patriots were absurd and odious; and that she was glad none of +that description were of her acquaintance. + +All this was plainly directed against Lady Bradstone, who was a zealous +patriot: her ladyship retorted, by some reflections equally keen, but +rather more politely expressed, each party addressing their inuendoes +to the bookseller, who afraid to disoblige either the rich or the +fashionable, preserved, as much as it was in the power of his muscles, a +perfectly neutral countenance. At last, in order to relieve himself from +his constraint, he betook himself to count the subscribers, and Miss +Turnbull seized this moment to desire that her name might be added to +the list. Lady Bradstone’s eyes were immediately fixed upon her with +complacency--Lady Stock’s flashed fire. Regardless of their fire, +Almeria coolly added, “Twelve copies, sir, if you please.” + +“Twelve copies, Miss Turnbull, at a guinea a-piece! Lord bless me, do +you know what you are about, my dear?” said Lady Stock. + +“Perfectly well,” replied our heroine; “I think twelve guineas, or +twenty times that sum, would be well bestowed in asserting independence +of sentiment, which I understand is the object of this work.” + +A whisper from Lady Bradstone to one of the shopmen, of “Who is that +charming woman?” gave our heroine courage to pronounce these words. Lady +Stock in great displeasure walked to her carriage, saying, “You are to +consider what you will do with your twelve copies, Miss Turnbull; for I +am convinced your guardian will never let such a parcel of inflammatory +trash into his house: he admires female patriotism, and _all that sort +of thing_, as little as I do.” + +The rudeness of this speech did not disconcert Almeria; for she was +fortified by the consciousness that she had gained her point with Lady +Bradstone. This lady piqued herself upon showing her preferences and +aversions with equal enthusiasm and _éclat_. She declared before a large +company at dinner, that notwithstanding Miss Turnbull was _nobody_ by +birth, she had made herself _somebody_ by spirit; and that for her part, +she should, contrary to her general principle, which she confessed was +to keep a strong line of demarcation between nobility and mobility, +take a pride in bringing forward merit even in the shape of a Yorkshire +grazier’s daughter. + +Pursuant to this gracious declaration, she empowered a common friend to +introduce Miss Turnbull to her, on the first opportunity. When people +really wish to become acquainted with each other, opportunities are +easily and quickly found. The parties met, to their mutual satisfaction, +that very night in the waiting-room of the Opera-house, and conversed +more in five minutes than people in town usually converse in five months +or years, when it is their wish to keep on a merely civil footing. But +this was not the footing on which Miss Turnbull desired to be with Lady +Bradstone; she took the utmost pains to please, and succeeded. She owed +her success chiefly to the dexterous manner in which she manifested +her contempt for her late dear friend Lady Stock. Her having refused an +alliance with the family was much in her favour; her ladyship admired +her spirit, but little suspected that the contemptuous manner in which +she had once been overheard to speak of this _banker’s son_ was the +real and immediate cause of his rejection. The phrase--“_only_ Stock +the banker’s son”--decided his fate: so much may be done by the mere +emphasis on a single word from fashionable lips! Our heroine managed +with considerable address in bringing her quarrel with one friend to +a crisis at the moment when another was ready to receive her. An +ostensible pretext is never wanting to those who are resolved on war. +The book to which Miss Turnbull had subscribed was the pretext upon this +occasion: nothing could be more indifferent to her than politics; but +Lady Bradstone’s party and principles were to be defended at all events. +Sir Thomas Stock protested that he might be hurt essentially in the +opinion of those for whom he had the highest consideration if a young +lady living under his roof, known to be his ward, and probably presumed +to be guided by him, should put her name as subscriber to twelve copies +of a work patronized by Lady Bradstone. “The mere circumstance of its +being dedicated to her ladyship showed what it _must_ be,” Sir Thomas +observed; and he made it a point with Miss Turnbull that she should +withdraw her name from the subscription. This Miss Turnbull absolutely +refused. Lady Bradstone was her confidante upon the occasion, and +half-a-dozen notes a day passed between them: at length the affair +was brought to the long wished-for crisis. Lady Bradstone invited Miss +Turnbull to her house, feeling herself, as she said, bound in honour to +_bear her out_ in a dispute of which she had been the original occasion. +In this lady’s society Almeria found the style of dress, manners, and +conversation, different from what she had seen at Lady Stock’s: she had +without difficulty imitated the affectation of Lady Stock, but there +was an ease in the decided tone of Lady Bradstone which could not be +so easily acquired. Having lived from her infancy in the best company, +there was no heterogeneous mixture in her manners; and the consciousness +of this gave an habitual air of security to her words, looks, and +motions. Lady Stock seemed forced to beg or buy--Lady Bradstone +accustomed to command or levy admiration as her rightful tribute. The +pride of Lady Bradstone was uniformly resolute, and successful; the +insolence of Lady Stock, if it were opposed, became cowardly and +ridiculous. Lady Bradstone seemed to have, on all occasions, an +instinctive sense of what a person of fashion ought to do; Lady Stock, +notwithstanding her bravadoing air, was frequently perplexed, and +anxious, and therefore awkward: she had always recourse to precedents. +“Lady P---- said so, or Lady Q---- did so; Lady G---- wore this, or Lady +H---- was there, and therefore I am sure it is proper.” + +On the contrary, Lady Bradstone never quoted authorities, but presumed +that she was a precedent for others. The one was eager to follow, the +other determined to lead, the fashion. + +Our heroine, who was by no means deficient in penetration, and whose +whole attention was now given to the study of externals, quickly +perceived these shades of difference between her late and her present +friend. She remarked, in particular, that she found herself much more +at ease in Lady Bradstone’s society. Her ladyship’s pride was not so +offensive as Lady Stock’s vanity: secure of her own superiority, Lady +Bradstone did not want to measure herself every instant with inferiors. +She treated Almeria as her equal in every respect; and in setting her +right in points of fashion never seemed to triumph, but to consider her +own knowledge as a necessary consequence of the life she had led from +her infancy. With a sort of proud generosity, she always considered +those whom she honoured with her friendship as thenceforward entitled to +all the advantages of her own situation, and to all the respect due to +a part of herself. She now always used the word _we_, with peculiar +emphasis, in speaking of Miss Turnbull and herself. This was a signal +perfectly well understood by her acquaintance. Almeria was received +every where with the most distinguished attention; and she was +delighted, and absolutely intoxicated, with her sudden rise in the world +of fashion. She found that her former acquaintance at Lady Stock’s were +extremely ambitious of claiming an intimacy; but this could not be done. +Miss Turnbull had now acquired, by practice, the power of looking at +people without seeming to see them, and of forgetting those with whom +she was perfectly well acquainted. Her opinion of her own consequence +was much raised by the court that was paid to her by several young +men of fashion, who thought it expedient to marry two hundred thousand +pounds. + +How quickly ambition extends her views! Our heroine’s highest object had +lately been to form an alliance with a man of fashion; she had now three +fashionable admirers in her train, but though she was flattered by their +attention, she had not the least inclination to decide in favour of any +of these candidates. The only young man of her present acquaintance who +seemed to be out of the reach of her power was Lord Bradstone; and upon +the conquest of his heart, or rather his pride, her fancy was fixed. +He had all his mother’s family pride, and he had been taught by her to +expect an alliance with a daughter of one of the first noble families in +England. The possibility of his marrying a grazier’s daughter had never +entered into his or Lady Bradstone’s thoughts: they saw, indeed, every +day, examples, among the first nobility, of such matches; but they saw +them with contempt. Almeria knew this, and yet she did not despair of +success: nor was she wrong in her calculations. Lord Bradstone was fond +of high play--his taste for gaming soon reduced him to distress--his +guardian was enraged, and absolutely refused to pay his lordship’s +debts. What was to be done?--He must extricate himself from his +difficulties by marrying some rich heiress. Miss Turnbull was the +heiress nearest at hand. Lord Bradstone’s pride was compelled to yield +to his interest, and he resolved to pay his addresses to the Yorkshire +grazier’s daughter: but he knew that his mother would be indignant at +this idea; and he therefore determined to proceed cautiously, and to +assure himself of the young lady’s approbation before he should brave +his mother’s anger. + +The winter was now passed, and her ladyship invited Miss Turnbull to +accompany her to Cheltenham;--her son was of the party. Our heroine +plainly understood his intentions, and her friendship for Lady Bradstone +did not prevent her from favouring his views: neither was she deterred +by her knowledge of his lordship’s taste for play, so ardent was her +desire for a coronet. The recollection of Frederick Elmour sometimes +crossed her imagination, and struck her heart; but the pang was soon +over, and she settled her conscience by the reflection, that she +was not, in the least degree, bound in honour to him--he had set her +entirely at liberty, and could not complain of her conduct. As to +Ellen--every day she determined to write to her, and every day she put +it off till to-morrow. At last she was saved the trouble of making and +breaking any more resolutions: for one evening, as she was walking with +Lady Bradstone and her noble admirer, in the public walk, she met Miss +Elmour and her brother. + +She accosted Ellen with great eagerness; but it was plain to her +friend’s discerning eyes that her joy was affected. After repeating +several times that she was quite delighted at this unexpected meeting, +she ran on with a number of commonplace questions, commencing and +concluding with, “When did you come?--How long do you stay?--Where do +you lodge?” + +“We have been here about a fortnight, and I believe we shall stay about +a month longer.” + +“Indeed!--A month!--So long!--How fortunate!--But where are you?” + +“We lodge a little out of the town, on the road to Cirencester.” + +“How unfortunate!--We are at such a shocking distance!--I’m with Lady +Bradstone--a most charming woman!--Whom are you with?” + +“With my poor father,” said Ellen; “he has been very ill lately, and we +came here on his account.” + +“Ill!--Old Mr. Elmour!--I’m extremely concerned--but whom have you to +attend him?--you should send to town for Dr. Grant--do you know he is +the only man now?--the only man Lady Bradstone and I have any dependence +on--if I were dying, he is the man I should send for. Do have him for +Mr. Elmour, my dear--and don’t be alarmed, above all things--you know +it’s so natural, at your father’s age, that he should not be as well as +he has been--but I distress you--and detain you.” + +Our heroine, after running off these unmeaning sentences, passed on, +being ashamed to walk with Ellen in public, because Lady Bradstone had +whispered, “_Who is she?_”--Not to be known in the world of fashion is +an unpardonable crime, for which no merit can atone. Three days elapsed +before Miss Turnbull went to see her friends, notwithstanding her +extreme concern for poor Mr. Elmour. Her excuse to her conscience was, +that Lady Bradstone’s carriage could not sooner be spared. People in +a certain rank of life are, or make themselves, slaves to horses +and carriages; with every apparent convenience and luxury, they are +frequently more dependent than their tradesmen or their servants. +There was a time when Almeria would not have been restrained by these +imaginary _impossibilities_ from showing kindness to her friends; but +that time was now completely past. She was, at present, anxious to avoid +having any private conversation with Ellen, because she was ashamed +to avow her change of views and sentiments. In the short morning +visit which she paid her, Almeria talked of public places, of public +characters, of dress and equipages, &c. She inquired, indeed, with a +modish air of infinite sensibility, for poor Mr. Elmour; and when she +heard that he was confined to his bed, she regretted most excessively +that she could not see him; but a few seconds afterwards, with a +suitable change of voice and countenance, she made an easy transition +to the praise of a new dress of Lady Bradstone’s invention. Frederick +Elmour came into the room in the midst of the eulogium on her ladyship’s +taste--she was embarrassed for a moment; but quickly recovering the tone +of a fine lady, she spoke to him as if he had never been any thing to +her but a common acquaintance. The dignity and firmness of his manner +provoked her pride; she wished to coquet with him--she tried to excite +his jealousy by talking of Lord Bradstone: but vain were all her airs +and inuendoes; they could not extort from him even a sigh. She was +somewhat consoled, however, by observing in his sister’s countenance the +expression, as she thought, of extreme mortification. + +A few days after this visit, Miss Turnbull received the following note +from Miss Elmour: + +“MY DEAR ALMERIA, + +“If you still wish that I should treat you as a friend, show me that you +do, and you will find my affection unaltered. If, on the contrary, you +have decided to pursue a mode of life, or to form connexions which make +you ashamed to own any one for a friend who is not a fine lady, let +our intimacy be dissolved for ever--it could only be a source of mutual +pain. My father is better to-day, and wishes to see you. Will you spend +this evening with him and with Your affectionate ELLEN ELMOUR?” + +It happened that the very day Miss Turnbull received this note, Lady +Bradstone was to have a concert, and Almeria knew that her ladyship +would be offended if she were to spend the evening with the Elmours: +it was, as she said to herself, _impossible_, therefore, to accept of +Ellen’s invitation. She called upon her in the course of the morning, +to make an apology. She found Ellen beside her father, who was seated +in his arm-chair: he looked extremely pale and weak: she was at first +shocked at the change she saw in her old friend, and she could not utter +the premeditated apology. Ellen took it for granted that she was come, +in consequence of her note, to spend the day with her, and she embraced +her with affectionate joy. Her whole countenance changed when our +heroine began at last to talk of Lady Bradstone and the concert--Ellen +burst into tears. + +“My dear child,” said Mr. Elmour, putting his hand upon his daughter’s, +which rested upon the arm of his chair, “I did not expect this weakness +from you.” + +Miss Turnbull, impatient to shorten a scene which she had neither +strength of mind to endure nor to prevent, rose to take leave. + +“My dear Ellen,” said she, in an irresolute tone, “my dearest creature, +you must not distress yourself in this way--I must have you keep up your +spirits. You confine yourself too much, indeed you do; and you see you +are not equal to it. Your father will be better, and he will persuade +you to leave him for an hour or two, I am sure, and we must have you +amongst us; and I must introduce you to Lady Bradstone--she’s a charming +woman, I assure you--you would like her of all things, if you knew her. +Come--don’t let me see you in this way. Really, my dear Ellen, this is +so unlike you--I can assure you that, whatever you may think, I love you +as well as ever I did, and never shall forget my obligations to _all_ +your family; but, you know, a person who lives in the world, as I do, +must make such terrible sacrifices of their time--one can’t do as one +pleases--one’s an absolute slave. So you must forgive me, dear Ellen, +for bidding you farewell for the present.” + +Ellen hastily wiped away her tears, and turning to Almeria with an air +of dignity, held out her hand to her, and said, “Farewell for ever, +Almeria!--May you never feel the want of a sincere and affectionate +friend!--May the triumphs of fashion make you amends for all you +sacrifice to obtain them!” + +Miss Turnbull was abashed and agitated--she hurried out of the room to +conceal her confusion, stepped into a carriage with a coronet, drove +away, and endeavoured to forget all that had passed. The concert in the +evening recalled her usual train of ideas, and she persuaded herself +that she had done all, and more than was necessary, in offering to +introduce Ellen to Lady Bradstone. “How could she neglect such an +offer?” + +A few days after the concert, Almeria had the pleasure of being +introduced to Lady Bradstone’s four daughters--Lady Gabriella, Lady +Agnes, Lady Bab, and Lady Kitty. Of the existence of these young ladies +Almeria had scarcely heard--they had been educated at a fashionable +boarding-school; and their mother was now under the disagreeable +necessity of bringing them home to live with her, because the eldest was +past seventeen. + +Lady Gabriella was a beauty, and determined to be a Grace--but which of +the three Graces, she had not yet decided. + +Lady Agnes was plain, and resolved to be a wit. + +Lady Bab and Lady Kitty were charming hoydens, with all the _modern_ +simplicity of fourteen or fifteen in their manners. Lady Bab had a fine +long neck, which was always in motion--Lady Kitty had white teeth, and +was always laughing;--but it is impossible to characterize them, for +they differed in nothing from a thousand other young ladies. + +These four sisters agreed in but one point--in considering their mother +as their common enemy. Taking it for granted that Miss Turnbull was her +friend, she was looked upon by them as being naturally entitled to a +share of their distrust and enmity. They found a variety of causes of +complaint against our heroine; and if they had been at any loss, their +respective waiting-maids would have furnished them with inexhaustible +causes of quarrel. + +Lady Bradstone could not bear to go with more than four in a +coach.--“Why was Miss Turnbull always to have a front seat in the +coach, and two of the young ladies to be always left at home on +her account?”--“How could Lady Bradstone make such a favourite of a +grazier’s daughter, and prefer her to her own children as a companion?” + &c. + +The young ladies never discouraged their attendants from saying all the +ill-natured things that they could devise of Miss Turnbull, and they +invented a variety of methods of tormenting her. Lady Gabriella found +out that Almeria was horridly ugly and awkward; Lady Agnes _quizzed_ her +perpetually; and the Ladies Bab and Kitty played upon her innumerable +practical jokes. She was astonished to find in high life a degree of +vulgarity of which her country companions would have been ashamed: but +all such things in high life go under the general term _dashing_. +These young ladies were _dashers_. Alas! perhaps foreigners and future +generations may not know the meaning of the term! + +Our heroine’s temper was not proof against the trials to which it was +hourly exposed: perhaps the consciousness that she was not born to the +situation in which she now moved, joined to her extreme anxiety to be +thought genteel and fashionable, rendered her peculiarly irritable +when her person and manners were attacked by ladies of quality. She +endeavoured to conciliate her young enemies by every means in her +power, and at length she found a method of pleasing them. They were +immoderately fond of baubles, and they had not money enough to gratify +this taste. Miss Turnbull at first, with great timidity, begged Lady +Gabriella’s acceptance of a ring, which seemed particularly to catch her +fancy: the facility with which the ring was accepted, and the favourable +change it produced, as if by magic, in her ladyship’s manners towards +our heroine, encouraged her to try similar experiments upon the +other sisters. She spared not ear-rings, crosses, brooches, pins, and +necklaces; and the young ladies in return began to show her all the +friendship which can be purchased by such presents--or by any presents. +Even whilst she rejoiced at the change in their behaviour, she could +not avoid despising them for the cause to which she knew it must be +attributed; nor did she long enjoy even the temporary calm procured by +these peace-offerings; for the very same things which propitiated the +daughters offended the mother. Lady Bradstone one morning insisted +upon Lady Gabriella’s returning a necklace, which she had received from +Almeria; and her ladyship informed Miss Turnbull, at the same time, with +an air of supreme haughtiness, that “she could not possibly permit +_her_ daughters to accept such valuable presents from any but their own +relations; that if the Lady Bradstones did not know what became them, it +was her duty to teach them propriety.” + +It was rather late in life to begin to teach, even if they had been +inclined to learn. They resented her last lesson, or rather her last act +of authority, with acrimony proportioned to the value of the object; +and Miss Turnbull was compelled to hear their complaints. Lady Gabriella +said, she was convinced that her mother’s only reason for making her +return the necklace was because she had not one quite so handsome. Lady +Agnes, between whom and her mamma there was pending a dispute about a +pair of diamond ear-rings, left by her grandmother, observed, that her +mother might, if she pleased, call _jealousy, propriety_; but that she +must not be surprised if other people used the old vocabulary; that her +mamma’s pride and vanity were always at war; for that though she +was proud enough to see her daughters _show well_ in public, yet she +required to have it said that she looked younger than any of them, and +that she was infinitely better dressed. + +Lady Bab and Lady Kitty did not fail in this favourable moment of +general discontent to bring forward their list of grievances; and in the +discussion of their rights and wrongs they continually appealed to our +heroine, crowding round her whilst she stood silent and embarrassed. +Ashamed of them and of herself, she compared the Lady Bradstones with +Ellen--she compared the sisters-in-law she was soon to have with the +friend she had forsaken. The young ladies mistook the expression of +melancholy in Almeria’s countenance at this instant, for sympathy in +their sorrows; and her silence, for acquiescence in the justice of their +complaints. They were reiterating their opinions with something like +plebeian loudness of voice, when their mother entered the room. The ease +with which her daughters changed their countenances and the subject of +conversation, when she entered, might have prevented all suspicion but +for the blushes of Almeria, who, though of all the party she was the +least guilty, looked by far the most abashed. The necklace which hung +from her hand, and on which in the midst of her embarrassment her eyes +involuntarily fell, seemed to Lady Bradstone proof positive against her. +Her ladyship recollected certain words she had heard as she opened the +door, and now applied them without hesitation to herself. Politeness +restrained the expression of her anger towards Miss Turnbull, but it +burst furiously forth upon her daughters; and our heroine was now as +much alarmed by the violence of her future mother-in-law as she had +been disgusted by the meanness of her _intended_ sisters. From this +day forward, Lady Bradstone’s manner changed towards Almeria, who could +plainly perceive, by her altered eye, that she had lost her confidence, +and that her ladyship considered her as one who was playing a double +part, and fomenting dissensions in her family. She thought herself +bound, in honour to the daughters, not to make any explanation that +could throw the blame upon them; and she bore in painful silence the +many oblique reproaches, reflections upon ingratitude, dissimulation, +and treachery, which she knew were aimed at her. The consciousness that +she was treating Lady Bradstone with insincerity, in encouraging the +addresses of her son, increased Miss Turnbull’s embarrassment; she +repented having for a moment encouraged his clandestine attachment; and +she now urged him in the strongest manner to impart his intentions to +his mother. He assured her that she should be obeyed; but his obedience +was put off from day to day; and, in the mean time, the more Almeria saw +of his family, the more her desire to be connected with them diminished. +The affair of the necklace was continually renewed, in some shape or +other, and a perpetual succession of petty disputes occurred, in which +both parties were in the wrong, and each openly or secretly blamed her +for not taking their part. Her mind was so much harassed, that all +her natural cheerfulness forsook her; and the being obliged to assume +spirits in company, and among people who were not worth the toil of +pleasing, became every hour more irksome. The transition from these +domestic miseries to public dissipation and gaieties made her still more +melancholy. + +When she calmly examined her own heart, she perceived that she felt +little or no affection for Lord Bradstone, though she had been flattered +by his attentions, when the assiduity of a man of rank and fashion was +new to her; but now the joys of being a countess began to fade in her +imagination. She hesitated--she had not strength of mind sufficient to +decide--she was afraid to proceed; yet she had not courage to retract. + +Ellen’s parting words recurred to her mind--“May you never feel the want +of a sincere and affectionate friend! May the triumphs of fashion make +you amends for all you sacrifice to obtain them!”--“Alas!” thought +she, “Ellen foresaw that I should soon be disgusted with this joyless, +heartless intercourse; but how can I recede? how can I disengage +myself from this Lord Bradstone, now that I have encouraged his +addresses?--Fool that I have been!--Oh! if I could now be advised by +that best of friends, who used to assist me in all my difficulties!--But +she despises, she has renounced me--she has bid me farewell for ever!” + +Notwithstanding this “farewell for ever,” there was still at the bottom +of Almeria’s heart, even whilst she bewailed herself in this manner, a +secret hope that Ellen’s esteem and friendship might be recovered, and +she resolved to make the trial. She was eager to put this idea into +execution the moment it occurred to her; and after apologizing to the +Lady Bradstones for not, as usual, accompanying them in their morning +ride, she set out to walk to Miss Elmour’s lodgings. It was a hot +day--she walked fast from the hurry and impatience of her mind. The +servant who attended her knocked twice at Mr. Elmour’s door before any +one answered; at last the door was opened by a maid-servant, with a +broom in her hand. + +“Is Miss Elmour at home?” + +“No, sir, she left Cheltenham this morning betimes, and we be getting +the house ready for other lodgers.” + +Almeria was very much disappointed--she looked flushed and fatigued; +and the maid said, “Ma’am, if you’ll be pleased to rest a while, you’re +welcome, I’m sure--and the parlour’s cleaned out--be pleased to sit +down, ma’am.”--Almeria followed, for she was really tired, and glad to +accept the good-natured offer. She was shown into the same parlour where +she had but a few weeks before taken leave of Ellen. The maid rolled +forward the great arm-chair, in which old Mr. Elmour had been seated; +and as she moved it, a gold-headed cane fell to the ground. + +Almeria’s eyes turned upon it directly as it fell; for it was an old +friend of hers: many a time she had played with it when she was a child, +and for many years she had been accustomed to see it in the hand of +a man whom she loved and respected. It brought many pleasing and some +painful associations to her mind--for she reflected how ill she had +behaved to the owner of it the last time she saw him. + +“Ay, ma’am,” said the maid, “it is the poor old gentleman’s cane, sure +enough--it has never been stirred from here, nor his hat and gloves, +see, since the day he died.” + +“Died!--Good Heavens!--Is Mr. Elmour dead?” + +“Yes, sure--he died last Tuesday, and was buried yesterday. You’d better +drink some of this water, ma’am,” said the girl, filling a glass that +stood on the table. “Why! dear heart! I would not have mentioned it +so sudden in this way, but I thought it could no way hurt you. Why, it +never came into my head you could be a friend of the family’s, nor more, +may be, at the utmost, than an acquaintance, as you never used to call +much during his illness.” + +This was the most cutting reproach, and the innocence with which it was +uttered made it still more severe. Almeria burst into tears; and the +poor girl, not knowing what to say next, and sorry for all she had said, +took up the cane, which had fallen from Almeria’s hands, and applied +herself to brightening the gold head with great diligence. At this +instant there was a double knock at the house-door. + +“It’s only the young gentleman, ma’am,” said the maid, as she went +towards the door. + +“What young gentleman?” said Almeria, rising from her seat. + +“Young Mr. Elmour, ma’am: he did not go away with his sister, but stayed +to settle some matters. Oh, they have let him in!” + +The maid stood with the parlour-door half open in her hand, not being +able to decide in her own fancy whether the lady wished that he should +come into the room or stay out; and before either she, or perhaps +Almeria, had decided this point, it was settled for them by his walking +in. Almeria was standing so as to be hid by the door; and he was so +intent upon his own thoughts, that, without perceiving there was any +body in the room, he walked straight forward to the table, took up +his father’s hat and gloves, and gave a deep sigh. He heard his sigh +echoed--looked up, and started at the sight of Almeria, but immediately +assumed an air of distant and cold respect. He was in deep mourning, and +looked pale, as if he had suffered much. Almeria endeavoured to speak; +but could get out only a few words, expressive of _the shock and +astonishment_ she had just felt. + +“Undoubtedly, madam, you must have been shocked,” replied Frederick, in +a calm voice; “but you could not have reason to be much astonished. My +father’s life had been despaired of some time--you must have seen how +much he was changed when you were here a few weeks ago.” Almeria could +make no reply; the tears, in spite of all her efforts to restrain them, +rolled down her cheeks: the cold, and almost severe, manner, in which +Frederick spoke, and the consciousness that she deserved it, struck her +to the heart. He followed her, as she abruptly quitted the room, and +in a tone of more kindness, but with the same distant manner, begged to +have the honour of attending her home. She bowed her head, to give that +assent which her voice could not at this instant utter; and she was +involuntarily going to put her arm within his; but, as he did not seem +to perceive this motion, she desisted, coloured violently, adjusted +the drapery of her gown to give employment to the neglected hand, then +walked on with precipitation. Her foot slipped as she was crossing the +street; Frederick offered his arm--she could not guess, from the way in +which it was presented, whether her former attempt had been perceived or +not. This trifle appeared to her a point of the utmost importance; for +by this she thought she could decide whether his feelings were really +as cold towards her as they appeared, whether he felt love and anger, or +contempt and indifference. Whilst she was endeavouring in vain to form +her opinion, all the time she leant upon his arm, and walked on in +silence, a carriage passed them; Frederick bowed, and his countenance +was suddenly illuminated. Almeria turned eagerly to see the cause of the +change, and as the carriage drove on she caught a glimpse of a beautiful +young lady. A spasm of jealousy seized her heart--she withdrew her +arm from Frederick’s. The abruptness of the action did not create any +emotion in him--his thoughts were absent. In a few minutes he slackened +his pace, and turned from the road towards a path across the fields, +asking if Miss Turnbull had any objection to going that way to Lady +Bradstone’s instead of along the dusty road. She made no objection--she +thought she perceived that Frederick was preparing to say something of +importance to her, and her heart beat violently. + +“Miss Turnbull will not, I hope, think what I am going to say +impertinent; she may be assured that it proceeds from no motive but the +desire to prevent the future unhappiness of one who once honoured my +family with her friendship.” + +“You are too good--I do not deserve that you should be interested in +my happiness or unhappiness--I cannot think you impertinent--pray speak +freely.” + +“And quickly,” she would have added, if she dared. Without abating any +of his reserve from this encouragement, he proceeded precisely in the +same tone as before, and with the same steady composure. + +“An accidental acquaintance with a friend of my Lord Bradstone’s, has +put me in possession of what, perhaps, you wish to be a secret, madam, +and what I shall inviolably keep as such.” + +“I cannot pretend to be ignorant of what you allude to,” said Almeria; +“but it is more than probable that you may not have heard the exact +state of the business; indeed it is impossible that you should, because +no one but myself could fully explain my sentiments. In fact they were +undecided; I was this very morning going to consult your sister upon +that subject.” + +“You will not suppose that I am going to intrude my counsels upon you, +Miss Turnbull; nothing can be farther from my intention: I am merely +going to mention a fact to you, of which I apprehend you are ignorant, +and of which, as you are circumstanced, no one in your present society, +perhaps no one in the world but myself, would choose to apprize you. +Forgive me, madam, if I try your patience by this preface: I am very +desirous not to wound your feelings more than is necessary.” + +“Perhaps,” said Almeria, with a doubtful smile, “perhaps you are under +a mistake, and imagine my feelings to be much more interested than they +really are. If you have any thing to communicate to Lord Bradstone’s +disadvantage, you may mention it to me without hesitation, and without +fear of injuring my happiness or his; for, to put you at ease at once, +I am come to a determination positively to decline his lordship’s +addresses.” + +“This assurance certainly puts me at ease at once,” said Frederick. But +Almeria observed that he neither expressed by his voice nor countenance +any of that joy which she had hoped to inspire by the assurance: on +the contrary, he heard it as a determination in which he was personally +unconcerned, and in which pure benevolence alone could give him an +interest. “This relieves me,” continued he, “from all necessity of +explaining myself further.” + +“Nay,” said Almeria, “but I must beg you will explain yourself. You do +not know but it may be necessary for me to have your antidote ready in +case of a relapse.” + +No change, at least none that betrayed the anxiety of a lover, was +visible in Frederick’s countenance at this hint of a relapse; but he +gravely answered, that, when so urged, he could not forbear to tell +her the exact truth, that Lord Bradstone was a ruined man--ruined +by gaming--and that he had been so indelicate as to declare to his +_friend_, that his sole object in marrying was money. Our heroine’s +pride was severely hurt by the last part of this information; but +even that did not wound her so keenly as the manner in which Frederick +behaved. She saw that he had no remains of affection for her lurking +in his heart--she saw that he now acted merely as he declared, from a +desire to save from misery one who had formerly honoured his family +with her friendship. Stiff, cold words--she endeavoured to talk upon +indifferent subjects, but could not--she was somewhat relieved when they +reached Lady Bradstone’s door, and when Frederick left her. The moment +he was gone, however, she ran up stairs to her own apartment, and looked +eagerly out of her window to catch the last glimpse of him. Such is +the strange caprice of the human heart, that a lover appears the +most valuable at the moment he is lost. Our heroine had felt all her +affection for Frederick revive with more than its former force within +this last hour; and she thought she now loved with a degree of passion +of which she had never before found herself capable. Hope is perhaps +inseparable from the existence of the passion of love. She passed +alternately from despair to the most flattering delusions: she fancied +that Frederick’s coldness was affected--that he was acting only from +honour--that he wished to leave her at liberty--and that as soon as he +knew she was actually disengaged from Lord Bradstone, he would fly +to her with all his former eagerness. This notion having once taken +possession of her mind, she was impatient in the extreme to settle her +affairs with Lord Bradstone. He was not at home--he did not come in till +late in the evening. It happened, that the next day Almeria was to be of +age; and Lord Bradstone, when he met her in the evening, reminded her +of her promise not “to prolong the torments of suspense beyond that +period.” She asked whether he had, in compliance with her request, +communicated the affair to Lady Bradstone? No; but he would as soon as +he had reasonable grounds of hope. Miss Turnbull rejoiced that he had +disobeyed her injunctions--she said that Lady Bradstone might now be for +ever spared hearing what would have inevitably excited her indignation. +His lordship stared, and could not comprehend our heroine’s present +meaning. She soon made it intelligible. We forbear to relate all that +was said upon the occasion: as it was a disappointment of the purse +and not of the heart, his lordship was of course obliged to make +a proportional quantity of professions of eternal sorrow and +disinterestedness. Almeria, partly to save her own pride the +mortification of the repetition, forbore to allude to the confidential +speech in which he had explained to _a friend_ his motives for marrying; +she hoped that he would soon console himself with some richer heiress, +and she rejoiced to be disencumbered of him, and even of his coronet; +for in this moment coronets seemed to her but paltry things--so much +does the appearance of objects vary according to the medium through +which they are viewed! + +Better satisfied with herself after this refusal of the earl, and in +better spirits than she had been for some months, she flattered herself +with the hopes that Frederick would call upon her again before he left +Cheltenham; he would then know that Lord Bradstone was no longer her +lover. + +She fell asleep full of these imaginations--dreamed of Frederick and +Elmour Grove--but this was only a dream. The next day--and the next--and +the next--passed without her seeing or hearing any thing of Frederick; +and the fourth day, as she rode by the house where the Elmours had +lodged, she saw put up in the parlour window an advertisement of +“_Lodgings to be let_.” She was now convinced that Frederick had left +Cheltenham--left it without thinking of her or of Lord Bradstone. The +young Lady Bradstones observed that she scarcely spoke a word during +the remainder of her morning’s ride. At night she was attacked with a +feverish complaint: the image of the beautiful person whom she had seen +in the coach that passed while she was walking with Frederick, was now +continually before her eyes. She had made all the inquiries she could, +to find out who that young lady might be; but this point could not be +ascertained, because, though she described the lady accurately, she was +not equally exact about the description of the carriage. The arms and +livery had totally escaped her observation. The different conjectures +that had been made by the various people to whom she had applied, and +the voices in which their answers were given, ran in her head all this +feverish night. + +“Perhaps it was Lady Susanna Quin--very likely it was Lady Mary +Lowther--very possibly Miss Grant; you know she goes about with old Mrs. +Grant in a yellow coach--but there are so many yellow coaches--the arms +or the livery would settle the point at once.” These words, _the arms +and the livery would settle the point at once,_ she repeated to herself +perpetually, though without annexing any ideas to the words. In +short, she was very feverish all night; and in the morning, though she +endeavoured to rise, she was obliged to lie down again. She was +confined to her bed for about a week: Lady Bradstone sent for the best +physicians; and the young ladies, in the intervals of dressing and going +out, whenever they could remember it, came into Miss Turnbull’s room +to “hope she found herself better.” It was obvious to her that no one +person in the house cared a straw about her, and she was oppressed with +the sense of being an encumbrance to the whole family. Whilst she was +alone she formed many projects for her future life, which she resolved +to execute as soon as she should recover. She determined immediately +to go down to her own house in the country, and to write to Ellen a +recantation of all her fine lady errors. She composed, whilst she lay on +her feverish pillow, twenty letters to her former friend, each of them +more eloquent and magnanimous than the other: but in proportion as her +fever left her, the activity of her imagination abated, and with it her +eloquence and magnanimity. Her mind, naturally weak, and now enfeebled +by disease, became quite passive, and received and yielded to the +impressions made by external circumstances. New trains of ideas, +perfectly different from those which had occupied her mind during her +fever, and in the days preceding her illness, were excited during her +convalescence. She lay listening to, or rather hearing, the conversation +of the young Lady Bradstones. They used to come into her room at night, +and stay for some time whilst they had their hair curled, and talked +over the events of the day--whom they had met--what dresses they had +worn--what matches were on the tapis, &c. They happened one night to +amuse themselves with reading an old newspaper, in which they came to +an account of a splendid masquerade, which had been given the preceding +winter in London by a rich heiress. + +“Lord! what charming entertainments Miss Turnbull might give if she +pleased. Why, do you know, she is richer than this woman,” whispered +Lady Bab; “and she is of age now, you know. If I were she, I’m sure I’d +have a house of my own, and the finest I could get in London. Now such a +house as my aunt Pierrepoint’s--and servants--and carriages--and I would +make myself of some consequence.” + +This speech was not lost upon our heroine; and the whisper in which it +was spoken increased its effect. The next day, as Lady Bab was sitting +at the foot of Almeria’s bed, she asked for a description of “my aunt +Pierrepoint’s house.” It was given to her _con amore_, and a character +of “my aunt Pierrepoint” was added gratis. “She is the most charming +amiable woman in the world--quite a different sort of person from mamma. +She has lived all her life about court, and she is connected with all +the great people, and a prodigious favourite at court--and she is of +such consequence!--You cannot imagine of what consequence she is!” + +Lady Gabriella then continued the conversation, by telling Miss Turnbull +a great secret, that her aunt Pierrepoint and her mother were not on +the best terms in the world: “for mamma’s so violent, you know, about +politics, and quite on a contrary side to my aunt. Mamma never goes to +court; and, between you and me, they say she would not be received. +Now that is a shocking thing for us; but the most provoking part of the +business is, that mamma won’t let my aunt Pierrepoint present us. Why, +when she cannot or will not go to the drawing-room herself, what +could be more proper, you know, than to let us be presented by Lady +Pierrepoint?--Lady Pierrepoint, you know, who is such a prodigious +favourite, and knows every thing in the world that’s proper at court, +and every where: it really is monstrous of mamma! Now if you were in +our places, should not you be quite provoked? By-the-bye, you never were +presented at court yourself, were you?” + +“Never,” said Almeria, with a sudden feeling of mortification. + +“No, you could not--of course you could not, living with mamma as you +do; for I am sure she would quarrel with an angel for just only talking +of going to court. Lord! if I was as rich as you, what beautiful +birthday dresses I would have!” + +These and similar conversations wrought powerfully upon the weak mind of +our poor heroine. She rose from her bed after her illness wondering what +had become of her passion for Frederick Elmour: certainly she was now +able to console herself for his loss, by the hopes of being presented at +court, and of being dressed with uncommon splendour. She was surprised +at this change in her own mind; but she justified it to herself by the +reflection, that it would show an unbecoming want of spirit to retain +any remains of regard for one who had treated her with so much coldness +and indifference, and who in all probability was attached to another +woman. Pride and resentment succeeded to tenderness; and she resolved +to show Frederick and Ellen that she could be happy her own way. It +is remarkable that her friendship for the sister always increased or +decreased with her love for her brother. Ambition, as it has often been +observed, is a passion that frequently succeeds to love, though love +seldom follows ambition. Almeria, who had now recovered her strength, +was one morning sitting in her own room, meditating arrangements for the +next winter’s campaign, when she was roused by the voices of Lady Bab +and Lady Kitty at her room door. + +“Miss Turnbull! Miss Turnbull! come! come!--Here’s the king and queen +and all the royal family, and my aunt Pierrepoint--come quick to our +dressing-room windows, or they will be out of sight.” + +The fair hoydens seized her between them, and dragged her away. + +“Mamma says it’s horribly vulgar to run to the windows, but never mind +that. There’s my aunt Pierrepoint’s coach--is not it handsome?--Oh! +everything about her is so handsome!--you know she has lived all her +life at court.” + +The eulogiums of these young ladies, and the sight of Lady Pierrepoint’s +entry in to Cheltenham in the wake of royalty, and the huzzas of the +mob, and the curiosity of all ranks who crowded the public walks in +the evening, to see the illustrious guest, contributed to raise our +heroine’s enthusiasm. She was rather surprised afterwards to observe +that Lady Pierrepoint passed her sister and nieces, on the public walk, +without taking the slightest notice of them; her head was turned indeed +quite another way when she passed, and she was in smiling conversation +with one of her own party. + +Lady Gabriella whispered, “My aunt Pierrepoint cannot _know_ us now, +because we are with mamma.” + +Miss Turnbull now, for the first time, saw Lady Bradstone in a situation +in which she was neglected; this served to accelerate the decline and +fall of her ladyship’s power over her mind. She began to consider her +not as a person by whom she had been brought into notice in the circles +of fashion, but as one by whom she was prevented from rising to a higher +orbit. Lady Bradstone went to see her sister the day after her arrival, +but she was _not at home_. Some days afterwards Lady Pierrepoint +returned her visit: she came in a sedan chair, because she did not wish +that her carriage should be seen standing at Lady Bradstone’s door. It +was incumbent upon her to take every possible precaution to prevent the +suspicion of her being biassed by sisterly affection; her sister and +she were unfortunately of such different opinions in politics, and her +sister’s politics were so much disapproved of, where Lady Pierrepoint +most wished for approbation, that she could not, consistently with her +principles or interest, countenance them, by appearing in public with +one so obnoxious. + +Miss Turnbull observed, with the most minute attention, every word and +gesture of Lady Pierrepoint. At first view, her ladyship appeared all +smiling ease and affability; but in all her motions, even in those of +her face, there was something that resembled a puppet--her very smiles, +and the turns of her eyes, seemed to be governed by unseen wires. Upon +still closer observation, however, there was reason to suspect that this +puppet might be regulated by a mind within, of some sort or other; for +it could not only answer questions by a voice of its own, and apparently +without being prompted, but moreover it seemed to hesitate, and to take +time for thought, before it hazarded any reply. Lady Pierrepoint spoke +always as if she thought her words would be repeated, and must _lead to +consequences_; and there was an air of vast circumspection and mystery +about her, which appeared sublime or ridiculous according to the light +in which it was considered. To our heroine it appeared sublime. Her +ladyship’s conversation, if a set of unmeaning phrases be deserving of +that name, at length turned upon the concern she felt that it had not +been in her power to procure an increase of pension for a certain Mrs. +Vickars. “Such a respectable character!--the widow of a distant relation +of the Pierrepoints.” There was no probability, after all the interest +and influence she had used, she said, that Mrs. Vickars could ever +be gratified in the line she had attempted; that therefore it was her +ladyship’s advice to her to look out for some situation of an eligible +description, which might relieve her from the distressing apprehension +of appearing burdensome or importunate. + +As well as her ladyship’s meaning could be made out, cleared from the +superfluity of words with which it was covered, she wished to get rid of +this poor widow, and to fasten her as an humble companion upon any body +who would be troubled with _such a respectable character!_ Miss Turnbull +foresaw the possibility of obliging her ladyship by means of Mrs. +Vickars: for as she proposed to purchase a house in town, it would be +convenient to her to have some companion; and this lady, who was of a +certain age, and who had always lived in the best company, would be well +suited to serve as her chaperon. To do our heroine justice, considering +that she was unpractised in manoeuvring with court ladies, she conducted +her scheme with a degree of address worthy of her object. Through the +medium of Lady Bab and Lady Gabriella, she opened a correspondence with +Lady Pierrepoint. Mrs. Vickars was introduced to Miss Turnbull--liked +her prodigiously; and Lady Pierrepoint was most happy in the prospect +of her relation’s being so eligibly situated. In proportion as Miss +Turnbull advanced in the good graces of Lady Pierrepoint, she receded +from Lady Bradstone. This lady’s indignation, which had been excited +against Almeria by her not siding with her against her daughters, now +rose to the highest pitch, when she perceived what was going on. No +crime could in her eyes be greater than that of seceding from her party. +Her violence in party matters was heightened by the desire to contrast +herself with her sister Pierrepoint’s courtly policy. Lady Bradstone, +all the time, knew and cared very little about politics, except so +far as they afforded her opportunities for the display of spirit +and eloquence. She had a fine flow of words, and loved to engage in +argument, especially as she had often been told by gentlemen that her +enthusiasm became her extremely, and that, even if a man could resist +the force of her arguments, he must yield to the fire of her eyes. It +happened that Miss Turnbull was present one day when Lady Bradstone had +been unusually warm in a political argument, and Lady Pierrepoint as +cool and guarded as her sister was eager. Almeria was appealed to, and +gave judgment in favour of Lady Pierrepoint, who happened to be in the +right. Regardless of right or wrong, Lady Bradstone became more and more +vehement, whilst Lady Pierrepoint sat in all the composed superiority +of silence, maintaining the most edifying meekness of countenance +imaginable, as if it were incumbent on her to be, or at least to seem, +penitent for a sister’s perversity. She sighed deeply when the _tirade_ +was finished, and fixed her eyes upon her beautiful niece Gabriella. +Lady Gabriella immediately filled up the pause by declaring that she +knew nothing of politics and hoped she never should, for that she did +not know of what use they were to women, except to prevent them from +going to court. + +Lady Bradstone expressed high indignation at perceiving that her +daughters thought more of dancing at a birthnight ball than of the good +of the nation. + +Mrs. Vickars, who was present, now interposed a word as mediatrix, +observing, that it was natural for the young ladies at their age: and +Miss Turnbull, catching or imitating something of the tone of Lady +Pierrepoint, ventured to add, that “it was a pity that Lady Bradstone’s +daughters did not enjoy all the advantages of their high rank, and that +she really wished Lady Bradstone could be prevailed upon to enter into +conciliatory measures.” + +On hearing this speech, Lady Bradstone, no longer able to restrain her +anger within the bounds of politeness, exclaimed, “I am not surprised at +receiving such advice from you, Miss Turnbull; but I own I am astonished +at hearing such sentiments from my daughters. High sentiments are to be +expected from high birth.” + +How Lady Bradstone contrived to make her aristocratic pride of birth +agree with her democratic principles, it may be difficult to explain; +but fortunately the idea of preserving consistency never disturbed her +self-complacency. Besides, to keep her ladyship in countenance, there +are so many examples of persons who live as royalists and talk as +republicans. + +Almeria could not brook the affront implied by Lady Bradstone’s last +speech; and matters were now brought to a crisis: she resolved not to +remain longer in a house where she was exposed to such insults. She was +of “age, and, thank Heaven! independent.” + +Lady Bradstone made no opposition to her determination; but +congratulated her upon the prospect of becoming independent. + +“I agree with you, Miss Turnbull, in thanking Heaven for making me +independent. Independence of mind, of course,” added she, “I value above +independence of purse.” + +Whatever vexation our heroine might feel from this speech, and from +the perfect indifference with which Lady Bradstone parted from her, +was compensated by the belief that she had by her conduct this evening +ingratiated herself with Lady Pierrepoint. She was confirmed in this +opinion by Mrs. Vickars, who said that her ladyship afterwards spoke of +Miss Turnbull as a very judicious and safe young person, whom she should +not scruple to protect. She was even so condescending as to interest +herself about the house in town, which Miss Turnbull talked of +purchasing: she knew that a noble friend of hers, who was going on a +foreign embassy, had thoughts of parting with his house; and it would +certainly suit Miss Turnbull, if she could compass the purchase. Almeria +felt herself highly honoured by her ladyship’s taking a concern in any +of her affairs; and she begged of Mrs. Vickars to say, that “expense was +no object to her.” She consequently paid a few hundred guineas more +than the value of the house, for the honour of Lady Pierrepoint’s +interference. Her ladyship saw into the weakness of our heroine’s +character, and determined to make advantage of it. It was a maxim of +hers, that there is no person so insignificant, but some advantage may +be made of them; and she had acted upon this principle through life, +sometimes so as to excite in the minds of the ignorant a high admiration +of her affability. It is said, that when Lady Pierrepoint was asked why +she married, she replied, “To increase my consequence, and strengthen my +connexions.” + +Perhaps this speech was made for her by some malicious wit; but it +is certain that she never upon any occasion of her life neglected an +opportunity of acting upon this principle. She was anxious with this +view to have as many dependents as possible: and she well knew that +those who were ambitious of a curtsy from her at the playhouse, or +a whisper at the opera, were as effectually her dependents as the +mendicants at her door, who are in want of a shilling. The poor may be +held in the iron fetters of necessity, but the rich are dragged behind +the car of fashion by the golden chains of vanity. + +The summer in the life of a fine lady is a season comparatively of so +little consequence, that the judicious historian may pass over some +months of it without their being missed in the records of time. He +hastens to the busy and important season of winter. + +Our heroine took possession of her magnificent house in town: and Mrs. +Vickars was established as _arbitratrix elegantiarum_. + +This lady deemed herself a judge in the last appeal of every thing that +became a person of fashion; and her claim to infallibility upon those +points was established by her being fourth cousin to Lady Pierrepoint. +Almeria soon discovered in her companion an inordinate love of power, +and an irritability of temper, which misfortunes and ill health had +increased to such a degree that it required more than the patience of +a female Job to live with her upon good terms. Martyrs in the cause of +vanity certainly exhibit wonderful, if not admirable, fortitude, in the +midst of the absurd and extravagant torments which they inflict upon +themselves. Our heroine endured for a whole season, without any outward +complaint, but with many an inward groan, the penance which she had +imposed upon herself: the extent of it can be comprehended only by those +who have been doomed to live with a thoroughly ill-tempered woman. The +reward was surely proportioned to the sufferings. Miss Turnbull received +a smile, or a nod, or something like a curtsy from Lady Pierrepoint, +whenever she met her in public; her ladyship’s cards were occasionally +left at the Yorkshire heiress’s door; and she sometimes honoured Miss +Turnbull’s crowded rooms, by crowding them still more with her august +presence. There was further reason to hope, that her ladyship might be +induced to present Almeria at court before the next birthday. All +these advantages were to be attributed to Mrs. Vickars, for she was the +connecting link between two beings of inferior and superior order. +We forbear to describe, or even to enumerate, the variety of balls, +suppers, dinners, déjeunés, galas, and masquerades, which Miss Turnbull +gave to the fashionable world during this winter. The generous public +forget these things the week after they are over; and the consequence +they bestow endures no longer than the track of a triumphal chariot. + +Our heroine was never fully convinced of this truth till it was +confirmed by her own experience. She found it necessary continually to +renew her expensive efforts, to keep herself alive in the memory of her +great acquaintance. Towards the time when she expected to be presented +at court by Lady Pierrepoint, a sudden coolness was apparent in her +ladyship’s manner; and one morning Almeria was surprised by a note from +her, regretting, in the most polite but positive terms, that it would +be absolutely out of her power to have the honour of presenting Miss +Turnbull at St. James’s. In the utmost consternation, Almeria flew for +an explanation to Mrs. Vickars. Mrs. Vickars was in a desperate fit of +_the sullens_, which had lasted now upwards of eight-and-forty hours, +ever since her advice had not been taken about the placing of certain +bronze figures, with antique lamps in their hands, upon the great +staircase. It was necessary to bring the lady into a good humour in +the first place, by yielding to her uncontrolled dominion over the +_candelabras_. This point being settled, and an unqualified submission +in all matters of taste, past, present, or to come, declared or implied +on the part of our heroine, Mrs. Vickars on her part promised to set out +immediately on an embassy to Lady Pierrepoint, to discover the cause of +the present discontent. After making sundry ineffectual attempts to +see her noble relation, she was at last admitted; and after one hour’s +private audience, she returned to the anxious Almeria with a countenance +lengthened to the utmost stretch of melancholy significance. + +“What _is_ the matter, Mrs. Vickars?” + +It was long before this question was answered; but after many friendly +lamentations, Mrs. Vickars could not help observing, that Miss Turnbull +had nobody to blame in this business but herself. This, or any thing +else, she was willing to admit, to get at the point, “But what have I +done? I dare say it is, as you say, all my own fault--but tell me how?” + +“How!--Can you, my dearest Miss Turnbull, forget that you did the most +imprudent and really unaccountable thing, that ever woman did?--Lady +Pierrepoint _had it_ from Stock the banker. Now you must be certainly +conscious to what I allude.” + +Almeria still looked innocent till Mrs. Vickars produced the book +dedicated to Lady Bradstone, for twelve copies of which Miss Turnbull +had subscribed. Her name was printed among the list of subscribers, and +there was no palliating the fact. When her companion saw that she was +quite overwhelmed with the sense of this misfortune, she began to hint, +that though the evil was great, it was not without remedy; that in her +own private opinion, Lady Pierrepoint might have passed over the thing, +if she had not heard it at a most unlucky moment. The provoking banker +mentioned it to her ladyship just after he had disappointed her of +certain moneys, for which she was negotiating. From her situation and +means of obtaining secret and early intelligence, she had it frequently +in her power to make money by selling in or out of the stocks. Such an +opportunity at present occurred; and “it was a great pity,” Mrs. Vickars +observed, “that the want of a little ready money should preclude her +from the possibility of profiting by her situation.” Miss Turnbull, +who was not deficient in quickness of comprehension, upon this hint +immediately said, “that her ladyship might command some thousands which +she had in Sir Thomas Stock’s bank.” Lady Pierrepoint the next day found +that it would be best to hush up the affair of the subscription to +the fatal pamphlet. She said, “that she had with infinite satisfaction +ascertained, that the thing had not been noticed in the quarter where +she feared it would have created an insuperable prejudice--that there +were other Turnbulls, as she was happy to understand, in the world, +besides Mrs. Vickars’s friend; and that as, in the list of subscribers, +she was mentioned only as _Miss_ Turnbull, not as Almeria Turnbull, all +was safe, and nobody would suspect that a lady presented at court by my +Lady Pierrepoint could be the same person that subscribed to a book of +such a description.” + +This affair being adjusted, the league was tacitly formed between +interest and vanity. Miss Turnbull was presented at court by Lady +Pierrepoint, and her ladyship bought into the stocks with the Yorkshire +heiress’s money. The gratification of Almeria’s ambition, however, did +not complete her happiness. When she was at the summit of the Alps of +fashion, she saw how little was to be seen. + +Though she liked to have it to say that she was a great deal with Lady +Pierrepoint, yet the time always passed most heavily in her company; +nor was the inferiority of this lady’s understanding compensated by +an affectionate heart. Her smoothly polished exterior prevented all +possibility of obtaining any hold over her. She had the art at once +to seem to be intimate with people, and to keep them at the greatest +distance; as, in certain optical deceptions, an object which appears +close to us, eludes our hand if we attempt to grasp it. Almeria felt the +want of that species of unreserved confidence and friendship which she +had formerly enjoyed with Ellen. In judging of what will make us happy, +we are apt to leave time out of the account; and this leads to most +important errors. For a short period we may be amused or gratified by +what will fatigue and disgust us if long continued. The first winter +that she spent in dissipation she was amused; but winter after winter +passed; and the recurrence of the same public diversions, and the +same faces, and the same common-place conversation, wearied instead of +interesting her. But as the pleasure of novelty declined, the power +of habit increased; and she continued the same course of life for six +years--six long years! against both her judgment and her feelings, the +absolute slave of an imaginary necessity. Thus the silly chicken remains +prisoner in a circle of chalk: even when the hand by which it was held +down is removed, it feels an imaginary pressure, from which it dares not +even attempt to escape. + +Almeria, however, was now arrived at an age when she could no longer, +with any propriety, be called a chicken: she was seven-and-twenty; and +the effect of keeping late hours, and the continual petty irritations +to which she had been subject, were sufficiently visible in her +countenance. She looked in a morning so faded and haggard, that any one +not used to the _wear and tear_ of fashionable faces would have guessed +Almeria’s age to be seven-and-thirty instead of seven-and-twenty. During +her six campaigns in London, she or her fortune had made many conquests; +but none of her London captives had ever obtained any power over her +affections, and her ambition could not decide upon the pretensions of +her several suitors. Lady Pierrepoint, who was her prime adviser, had an +interest in keeping her unmarried; because during this time her ladyship +employed most advantageously certain moneys, which she had borrowed +from our heiress. This female politician made some objection to +every proposal; continually repeating, that Miss Turnbull might do +better--that she might look higher--that with her pretensions, there +could be no doubt that she would have a variety of advantageous +offers--and that her _play_ should be to raise her value by rejecting, +without hesitation, all pretenders but those of the first distinction. +Lady Pierrepoint, who usually spoke with all the ambiguity of an oracle, +seemed on this subject more than usually mysterious. She dropped half +sentences, then checked herself, hinted that she was not at liberty to +speak out; but that she had her own private reasons for advising her +friend Miss Turnbull not to be precipitate in her choice. Her ladyship’s +looks said more than her words, and Almeria interpreted them precisely +as she wished. There was a certain marquis, whom she sometimes met at +Lady Pierrepoint’s, and whom she would have been pleased to meet more +frequently. He was neither young, nor handsome, nor witty, nor wise. +What was he then?--He was a marquis--and is not that enough?--Almeria +saw that he was looked up to as a person of great influence and +importance, and she now had the habit of trusting to the eyes and ears +of others. She now considered what people were _thought of_, not what +they really were; and according to this mode of estimation she could +not fail to form a high opinion of this exalted personage. He paid her +distinguished, but not decisive attention; and perhaps the uncertainty +in which she was kept as to his views increased her interest upon the +subject. There was always some obstacle, which seemed to prevent him +from declaring himself:--at one time he was suddenly obliged to go +ambassador to some foreign court; he went, and stayed a year; at his +return he was immersed in politics, and deplored his hard fate in terms +which Almeria thought it was impossible not to construe favourably +to her wishes. She thought she was upon the point of becoming a +marchioness, when his lordship was again sent into what he called +banishment. Lady Pierrepoint had constantly letters from him, however; +passages from which she from time to time read to Almeria, in whose weak +mind this kept alive an indistinct hope, for which she had no rational +foundation. She was confirmed in her belief that the marquis had serious +thoughts of her, by the opinion of Mrs. Vickars, who she thought was +in the secret, and who certainly would not speak decidedly without +sufficient reason. Indeed, nothing but the pleasure she received from +Mrs. Vickars’s favourable prognostics upon this subject could have in +any degree balanced the pain she daily endured from this lady’s fretful +temper. Almeria submitted to her domineering humour, and continued to +propitiate her with petty sacrifices, more from fear than love--from +fear that her adverse influence might be fatal to her present scheme of +aggrandizement. Weak minds are subject to this apprehension of control +from secret causes utterly inadequate to their supposed effects; and +thus they put their destiny into the hands of persons who could not +otherwise obtain influence over their fate. + +The time at length arrived when our heroine was to be confirmed in her +expectations, or wakened from her state of self-delusion. The +marquis returned from abroad, and Lady Pierrepoint wrote a note more +mysteriously worded than usual, signifying that she “wished to have +a conference with Miss Turnbull on a subject of some importance; and +begged to know at what hour in the morning she might be secure of the +pleasure of finding her at home.” Almeria named her hour, and waited +for its arrival with no small impatience. Lady Pierrepoint’s thundering +knock at the door was heard; her ladyship was shown up stairs; and she +entered the room with a countenance that seemed to promise well. She +preluded with many flattering phrases--declared that ever since she had +been first acquainted with Miss Turnbull at Cheltenham, she had always +considered her with sentiments of esteem, of which she had since given +indeed the most convincing proofs, by accepting of obligations from her. + +“Obligations!” exclaimed Almeria, with an air of polite astonishment. + +“Yes, my dear Miss Turnbull,” continued her ladyship, with still more +polite humility, “I am under obligations to you assuredly. Things of a +pecuniary nature ought not to be named, I confess, in the same sentence +with friendship; yet for the sake of one’s family it is, whilst we +remain in this world, the duty of every one to pay a certain degree of +attention to such points; and a person who has, like me, advantages of +situation and connexions, would not be justifiable in neglecting, under +due limitations, to make use of them.” + +Miss Turnbull readily assented to these guarded truisms, but wondered to +what all this was to lead. + +“The money which you have had the goodness to trust in my hands,” + continued her ladyship, “has, without in the least impoverishing, or, I +hope, _inconveniencing_ you, been of the most material advantage to me.” + +Almeria comprehended that her ladyship referred to her speculations +in the stocks, and she congratulated her upon her success; and added +assurances, that for her own part she had not been in the slightest +degree _inconvenienced_. Whilst Miss Turnbull uttered these assurances, +however, she was not sorry to see Lady Pierrepoint take out of her +pocket-book bank notes to the amount of her debt; for in plain truth, +the interest of this loan had never been punctually paid; and Almeria +had often regretted that she had placed so much of her fortune out of +her own power. “Let me now return these to you with a thousand thanks,” + said her ladyship. “Indeed, my niece Gabriella has more reason even than +I have to thank you; for you must know, my dear Miss Turnbull, that all +my speculations have been for her. From the time that she came to live +with me, I was determined that she should be properly established; and +you must be sensible that, for a young lady’s establishment in our days, +money is as essential as beauty. La belle Gabrielle is now provided for +as she ought to be, and of course the consequence will be a suitable +alliance.” Miss Turnbull expressed her satisfaction at finding that +her money had been instrumental in attaining so happy a purpose, and +presumed to ask if her ladyship had any immediate alliance in view. + +“It is a secret as yet; but I have no secrets for you, my dear Miss +Turnbull: indeed, I came here this morning by our dear Gabriella’s +particular desire to communicate it to you. I flatter myself you will +approve of her choice--our favourite marquis.” + +Almeria was so much astonished and shocked by these words, that she +turned as pale as if she were going to faint. “Our favourite marquis!” + she repeated in a faltering voice; “I thought----” + +The fear of becoming ridiculous restrained her anger, and she +paused.--“You thought, perhaps,” resumed the perfectly-composed Lady +Pierrepoint, “you thought, perhaps, my dear, that there was too great a +disparity of age between Gabriella and the marquis.” + +“Oh! no.” + +“Why, that is an objection, I confess; at least it would be to some +young ladies: but as Gabriella is satisfied, we may waive that.” + +“Oh! yes, certainly.” + +“One cannot help being interested for him; he is such a respectable +character--and so much in love! It would really surprise you, my dear; +for you know he was a man, one would have imagined, so much immersed in +politics--I protest I never had a suspicion of his having a thought of +Gabriella, till the proposal was absolutely made.” + +“I am sure _I_ never suspected the marquis’s attachment to Lady +Gabriella,” said Miss Turnbull: “on the contrary--” + +“On the contrary,” pursued Lady Pierrepoint, “he paid her always, as I +remember, less attention than to twenty others, who were indifferent to +him.” + +The struggle was still violent in our heroine’s mind between rage and +the dread of exposing herself to ridicule. Lady Pierrepoint saw this, +and coolly held her in this dilemma. + +“Now,” continued her ladyship, “men are such unaccountable creatures, +one never can understand them. Do you know, my dear Miss Turnbull, I +had, till his lordship explained himself unequivocally to me, a notion +that he was in love with you.” + +“Really!” said our heroine, forcing a laugh. + +“Did your friend Mrs. Vickars never tell you so?” + +“Yes, she did--frequently.” + +“Both of us mistaken, you see, my dear. Mortifying! to find one’s +judgment so fallible. I tell the marquis, he might absolutely have been +privately married to Gabriella without my finding him out--it is so easy +now, the easiest thing in the world, to impose upon me. Well, I must bid +you adieu for the present, my dear Miss Turnbull--you may imagine I have +a world of business on my hands.” + +With the utmost appearance of cordiality Lady Pierrepoint shook our +heroine’s receding hand; and, without seeming to notice the painful +emotions visible in Almeria’s countenance, departed smiling, and +perfectly composed. + +The moment that her ladyship had left the room, our heroine retired to +her own apartment, and hastily bolted the door to prevent the intrusion +of Mrs. Vickars, whose curiosity and condolence, whether real or +affected, she was not in a humour to endure. She walked up and down the +room in great agitation, by turns angry with Lady Pierrepoint, with the +marquis, with Lady Gabriella, with Mrs. Vickars, and with herself. +After her anger had spent itself, the sorrowful certainty that it +was unavailing remained; the disappointment was irremediable, and her +mortification was the more poignant, because she had no human being to +sympathize in her feelings, no one to whom she could complain. + +“So this is fashionable friendship!” said she to herself. “This is the +end of all Lady Pierrepoint’s and Lady Gabriella’s professions of regard +for me!--Fool that I have been, to become their dupe!--With my eyes +open I saw nothing that was going forward, though now I can recollect +a thousand and a thousand circumstances, by which I might have been +undeceived. But I trusted implicitly--idiot that I was!--to the +friendship of this treacherous, unfeeling courtier. Once I had a friend, +to whom I might trust implicitly--I never, never, shall find her equal.” + +A transient recollection of former times crossed her mind--but those +times could not be recalled; and the present pressed upon her most +forcibly. Frustrated in all her ambitious schemes, she was sensible that +all that now remained for her was to conceal her disappointment, and +to avoid the contempt to which she would be exposed in the world, if it +were whispered that Miss Turnbull had fancied that the Marquis of ---- +was in love with her, whilst he was all the while paying his addresses +to Lady Gabriella Bradstone. This powerful fear of ridicule conquered, +or suppressed, all other feelings. With all the resolution she could +assume, Almeria went to Mrs. Vickars, and congratulated her upon the +happy event which was soon likely to take place in her family: she even +constrained herself so far, as, without expressing either suspicion or +resentment, to hear her companion disclaim all knowledge of the affair, +and declare that she had, that morning, for the first time, heard of it +from Lady Pierrepoint, with a degree of astonishment from which she had +not yet recovered. + +In a few weeks afterwards Lady Gabriella’s marriage took place. Our +heroine’s mortification was much increased by the splendour in which the +bride appeared, and by the great share of the public attention which +the fair marchioness seemed for some days to engross. Miss Turnbull +was weary of hearing the praises of her equipages and dress; and the +dissimulation she was continually obliged to practise towards Mrs. +Vickars became intolerable. Nothing but a pretext for quarrelling with +this lady was wanting to Almeria, and nothing but an excuse for leaving +Almeria was now desired by Mrs. Vickars, who had received an invitation +from the marchioness, which she was impatient to accept. The ladies one +morning after breakfast fell into a dispute upon the comparative +merits of blue and green. It was not to all appearance a very dangerous +subject, but in certain situations every subject becomes dangerous. + +“This riband is a beautiful blue,” said Miss Turnbull. + +“I confess I do not think so,” said Mrs. Vickars; “it is a very +unbecoming shade of blue.” + +“Unbecoming!--I have been told by twenty people, that it is remarkably +becoming to me. Mrs. Ingoldsby told me yesterday, that she never saw so +beautiful a blue.” + +“Mrs. Ingoldsby’s taste is not infallible, I imagine,” said Mrs. +Vickars, with a contemptuous smile. + +“It may not be infallible,” replied our heroine, “but it is at least as +much to be relied upon as other people’s.” + +“I am sure I do not pretend to compare my taste to Mrs. Ingoldsby’s; +but I may be permitted to have an opinion of my own, I hope: and in my +opinion it is a frightful blue, and shockingly unbecoming. And at all +events I like green infinitely better than blue; and I beseech you, Miss +Turnbull, not to wear this hideous riband.” + +“I am sure I don’t pretend to set my taste in competition with Mrs. +Vickars’s, but I must confess I cannot think this a frightful blue, or +shockingly unbecoming; nor can I agree with any body in preferring +green to blue; and for once I shall take the liberty of following my own +fancy.” + +“For once!--I am sorry I ever presumed to offer an opinion upon this or +any other subject to Miss Turnbull--I shall be more cautious in future; +but I candidly own I did think I might prefer green to blue without +giving offence.” + +“It gives me no offence, I assure you, Mrs. Vickars, that you should +prefer green to blue; I am not so ridiculous. But people who cannot bear +to be contradicted themselves are always apt to fancy that others have +the same strange sort of domineering temper.” + +“People who can bear nothing but flattery, Miss Turnbull, should have +such a friend as Mrs. Ingoldsby, who would swear that blue is green, +and black white, I make no doubt,” said Mrs. Vickars; “for my part, I am +sorry I cannot get rid of my troublesome sincerity.” + +“Sincerity! Sincerity!--To do you justice, Mrs. Vickars, whatever I may +have felt about trifles, in affairs of importance I have never found +your _sincerity_ troublesome.” + +The ironical accent upon the word _sincerity_ sufficiently marked Miss +Turnbull’s meaning. + +The irritable temper of Mrs. Vickars put it out of her power to act a +part with that “exquisite dissimulation,” for which some of her sex have +been celebrated by the judicious Davila. Thrown off her guard by the +last sarcastic insinuation, Mrs. Vickars burst into an angry defence +of her own sincerity with respect to the affair of the marquis and Lady +Gabriella. Almeria observed, that this “defence was quite unnecessary, +as she had not made any accusation; and these apologies could be +prompted only by Mrs. Vickars’s own _tenderness_ of conscience.” Mrs. +Vickars replied with increasing acrimony. She said, that her “conduct +needed no apologies, and that she should not stoop to make any, to +soothe the disappointed ambition of any person whatever.” Reproach +succeeded reproach--sarcasm produced sarcasm--till at last Mrs. Vickars +declared, that after what had passed it was impossible she should remain +another day in Miss Turnbull’s house. This declaration was heard +by Almeria with undisguised satisfaction. The next day Mrs. Vickars +accepted of an invitation from the marchioness; and our heroine +afterwards protested that she was as much rejoiced to be freed from the +encumbrance of such a companion as Sinbad the sailor was to get rid of +the old man of the sea, who fastened himself upon his shoulders with +such remorseless tenacity. + +She resolved to be more cautious in choice of her next companion. There +were many candidates for the honour of supplying the place of Mrs. +Vickars; amongst these was Mrs. Ingoldsby, a lady who was perfect +mistress of the whole art of flattery, by means of which she had so +far ingratiated herself with Miss Turnbull, that she felt secure of a +preference over all competitors. Almeria had indeed almost decided in +her favour, when she received a note from a Mrs. Wynne, an old lady with +whom she had formerly been acquainted in Yorkshire, and who, being just +come to town, was eager to renew her intimacy with Miss Turnbull. +She was a woman of an excellent heart, and absolutely incapable of +suspecting that others could be less frank or friendly than herself. She +was sometimes led into mistakes by this undistinguishing benevolence; +for she imagined that all which appeared wrong would prove right, if +properly understood; that there must be some good reason for every thing +that seemed to be bad; that every instance of unkindness or insolence +was undesigned; and that every quarrel was only a misunderstanding. +Possessed by this good-natured kind of wrong-headedness, she frequently +did the most provoking, by way of doing the most obliging things +imaginable. + +Upon this principle she would place contending parties by surprise in +the very situation which of all others they most wished to avoid, and +then give the signal for a pitched battle, by begging the enemies would +shake hands with one another. Now she had heard it reported in Yorkshire +that there was some coolness between the Elmours and Miss Turnbull; but +she was morally certain there could be no truth in this report, for a +variety of the very best reasons in the world. + +“In the first place,” argued Mrs. Wynne, “to my certain knowledge, Miss +Turnbull was, from her infancy, always the greatest favourite at Elmour +Grove, the pupil of the good old gentleman, and the intimate friend of +the daughter. During that odd Hodgkinson’s lifetime, Almeria was always +with Miss Ellen Elmour, who treated her quite like a sister. I am sure +I remember, as if it was yesterday, her introducing Miss Turnbull to me, +and the affectionate way in which she spoke of her--and I particularly +recollect hearing Almeria Turnbull, amongst other grateful things, say, +that she should wish to live and die with her friends at Elmour Grove. +Then she had stronger reasons afterwards for being attached to them--you +know it was Mr. Frederick Elmour who gained her large fortune for her. I +was in the court-house in York the very day the cause was decided, and +I never heard a man speak with more energy and eloquence than Frederick +Elmour did in her defence. It was plain, indeed, that the eloquence came +from his heart--as to the law part of the business, I know my nephew, +who understands those things, said it was a very nice question, and that +if her cause had not been managed as ably as it was, she would not have +gained her fortune. Now of course this was a thing that never could be +forgotten. I own, I expected that there would have been a match between +Miss Turnbull and Mr. Elmour; but Sir Thomas Stock, her guardian, took +her away from us, and Mr. Elmour fell in love with another lady. But all +this time Miss Turnbull has never married, though she has been so much +in the great world, and from her large fortune must have had so many +offers. I heard it said yesterday, that she had refused Sir Thomas +Stock’s eldest son, and my Lord Bradstone, and some others; now it is +plain she would not marry merely for money or title. My nephew, who is +so amiable and sensible, is just the man for her, and he had used to +admire her very much in former times, when he met her at Elmour Grove.” + Mrs. Wynne hinted her wishes to her nephew, but he seemed not much +inclined towards Miss Turnbull, “because,” said he, “though Frederick +and his sister never uttered a syllable to her disadvantage, I cannot, +from circumstances, help imagining, that she has not behaved well to +them; and besides, after five or six years spent in the great world, and +in all the dissipation in which she has lived, her disposition cannot +probably be the same as it was when I knew her in the country.” + +Mrs. Wynne could not, with her good-natured eyes, see the force of any +of these objections, and she was determined to convince her nephew of +their futility. With this view she formed a scheme which was to be kept +a profound secret from the parties concerned, till the moment when it +should be ripe for execution. She heard that Miss Turnbull was in want +of a companion; and she knew that Mrs. Henry Elmour, a very amiable +young widow, distantly related to the Elmour family, and who had +formerly been a friend of Almeria’s, was at this moment in great +distress. She had no doubt that Miss Turnbull would be delighted with an +opportunity of serving any one connected with a family to whom she +owed such obligations. Mrs. Wynne fancied that this would be the finest +occasion imaginable to prove to her nephew, that, notwithstanding +Almeria had lately lived so much in the fashionable world, she had the +same grateful heart as formerly. + +Eager to come to this demonstration, Mrs. Wynne wrote immediately to +the distressed widow, begging her to come to town with all possible +expedition; “for I have found, or at least I am morally sure of finding, +the most charming situation your heart can desire. I say no more, that I +may not deprive you of the pleasure of the surprise.” + +The same day that she sent this letter to the post, she despatched the +following note to Almeria: + + +‘MY DEAR MISS TURNBULL, + +“I am too well persuaded of the goodness of your heart to fear that you +should think my present interference impertinent. We used to be very +good friends in Yorkshire, and I am sure shall be just the same in +London; therefore I write without ceremony, as friends should. I called +upon you twice, but found you were, unluckily, not at home. Now I have a +matter very near my heart to speak to you about, that perhaps will turn +out as much to your satisfaction as to mine. I cannot express myself so +well as I could wish in writing, but am sure you will not repent your +kindness, if you will do us the honour of dining with us in a family +way on Friday next; and in the mean time, let me beg you will not decide +your choice of a companion. I cannot be more explicit, lest (as I have +said once before to-day) I should deprive you of the pleasure of the +surprise. Dear madam, forgive this freedom in one who most sincerely +wishes you well (as Friday will prove). My nephew, Henry Wynne (whom you +may remember a great admirer of yours), desires his best respects; and +with every good wish I remain, Dear Miss Turnbull’s + +“Affectionate humble servant, + +“M. WYNNE.” + + +This letter at first surprised our heroine, and afterwards afforded +subject for much ridicule to Mrs. Ingoldsby, to whom Almeria showed +it. She laughed at the odd freedom of the Yorkshire dame, at the +old-fashioned plainness of the style--parenthesis within parenthesis--at +last concluding with respects and best wishes, and _remaining_ dear Miss +Turnbull’s humble servant. She opined, however, upon the third perusal +of the letter, that Mrs. Wynne was anxious to present her nephew to Miss +Turnbull, and that this was the real meaning of her curious note--that +probably she wished to surprise her with the sight of some Yorkshire +damsel, who had formed the reasonable expectation, that because Miss +Turnbull had done her the honour to notice her ages ago in the country, +she was to be her companion in town. Mrs. Ingoldsby further observed, +that Mrs. Wynne, though she had not practised at court, was no bad +politician in thus attempting to recommend a companion to Miss Turnbull, +who would, of course, be entirely in her nephew’s interests. Almeria’s +vanity was indirectly flattered by these insinuations, which tended +to prove her vast consequence, in being thus the object of plots +and counterplots; and she the more readily believed this, from the +experience she had had of Lady Pierrepoint’s manoeuvres. “It is really +a dreadful thing,” said she, “to be a great heiress. One must be so +circumspect--so much upon one’s guard with all the world. But poor Mrs. +Wynne shows her cards so plainly, one must be an idiot not to guess her +whole play.” + +To “mistake reverse of wrong for right” is one of the most common errors +in the conduct of life. Our heroine being sensible that she had been +ridiculously credulous in her dealings with Lady Pierrepoint, was now +inclined to be preposterously suspicious. She determined with her next +admirer to pursue a system diametrically opposite to that which she had +followed with the marquis; she had shown him attractive complaisance; +she was now prepared to display the repulsive haughtiness becoming +the representative of two hundred thousand pounds: she had completely +adopted Lady Pierrepoint’s maxim. _That a lady should marry to increase +her consequence and strengthen her connexions_. Her former ideas, that +love and esteem were necessary to happiness in a union for life, seemed +obsolete and romantic; and the good qualities of her admirers, though +they were always to be mentioned as the ostensible reasons for her +choice, were never in reality to influence her decision. + +To stoop at once from a marquis to a private gentleman would be +terrible; yet that private gentleman was worthy of some little +consideration, not because he was, as Almeria remembered, a man of +excellent sense, temper, and character, but because he had a clear +estate of eight thousand pounds a-year, and was next heir to an earldom. + +Miss Turnbull cannot properly be called a female fortune-hunter; but, +to coin a new name for our heroine, which may be useful to designate +a numerous class of her contemporaries, she was decidedly a female +_title-hunter_. + +She accepted of the invitation to dinner, and, accompanied by a proper +supporter in Mrs. Ingoldsby, went to Mrs. Wynne’s, dressed in the utmost +extravagance of the mode, blazing in all the glory of diamonds, in hopes +of striking admiration even unto awe upon the hearts of all beholders. +Though she had been expressly invited to a _family party_, she +considered that only as an humble country phrase to excuse, beforehand, +any deficiency of magnificence. She had no doubt that the finest +entertainment, and the finest company, Mrs. Wynne could procure +or collect, would be prepared for her reception. She was somewhat +surprised, especially as she came fashionably late, to find in the +drawing-room only old Mrs. Wynne, her nephew, and a lady, who, from her +dress and modest appearance, was evidently _nobody_. Miss Turnbull swept +by her, though she had a disagreeable recollection of having somewhere +seen this figure in a former state of existence. Mrs. Wynne, good +soul! did not believe in wilful blindness, and she therefore said, with +provoking simplicity, “Miss Turnbull, this is your good friend, Mrs. +Henry Elmour--poor thing! she is sadly altered in her looks since you +saw her, a gay rosy lass at Elmour Grove! But though her looks are +changed, her heart, I can answer for it, is just the same as ever; and +she remembers you with all the affection you could desire. She would not +be like any other of her name, indeed, if she did otherwise. The Elmours +were all so fond of you!” + +The name of Elmour, instead of having that irresistible charm, which +Mrs. Wynne expected, over Almeria’s heart, produced a directly contrary +effect. It recalled many associations that were painful to her pride; +she was vexed to perceive that obligations and intimacies which she had +forgotten, or which she wished to forget, were remembered so obstinately +by others. All this passed in her mind whilst Mrs. Wynne was speaking. +With a look of ill-humoured surprise, Almeria half rose from her seat, +and, as Mrs. Henry Elmour was presented to her, uttered some phrases +in an unintelligible voice, and then sunk back again on the sofa. Mrs. +Wynne made room for the widow between her and Miss Turnbull--Mr. Wynne +kept aloof--a dead silence ensued--and Miss Turnbull, seeing that in her +present position there was nothing else to be done, condescended to hope +that all Mrs. Henry Elmour’s friends in Yorkshire were well when she +left them. Mrs. Wynne’s countenance brightened up, and she now addressed +her conversation to Mrs. Ingoldsby, in order to leave the pair, whom she +had destined to be friends, at perfect liberty to talk over “old times.” + +Mrs. Henry Elmour naturally spoke of the happy days which they had spent +together at Elmour Grove; but Miss Turnbull was so much occupied in +clasping one of her diamond bracelets, that half of what was said to her +seemed not to be heard, and the other half to create no interest. She +looked up, when she had at length adjusted her bracelet, and with an +insipid smile (learnt from Lady Pierrepoint) seemed to beg pardon for +her fit of absence. The unfortunate Mrs. Elmour recommenced all she had +said; but though Miss Turnbull’s eyes were at this time directed towards +the widow’s face, they wandered over her features with such insolent +examination, that she was totally abashed. Having gained her point, +our heroine now looked round as the door opened, in expectation of the +entrance of some persons who might be worthy of her attention; but, +lo! it was only a servant, who announced that dinner was served. Miss +Turnbull’s surprise could be equalled only by her indignation, when she +found that it was literally to a _family party_ she was invited. “Miss +Turnbull,” said Mrs. Wynne, as they were sitting down to dinner, “I +have been much disappointed in not having the company of some friends of +yours, who I expected would dine with us to-day; but they will be with +us, I hope, to-night--they were unluckily engaged to dine with the +Duchess of A----.” + +Miss Turnbull vouchsafed to appear interested, when the name of +a duchess was mentioned; but her countenance again changed to an +expression of almost angry vexation, when Mrs. Wynne explained, that +these friends were Mr. and Mrs. Elmour, and Mr. Charles Wynne and his +lady. “Miss Ellen Elmour, you know: she was----“--“Very true, I saw +her marriage in the papers, I remember, some time ago,” replied Miss +Turnbull; “a year, if I’m not mistaken.” + +“Two years ago, madam,” said Mrs. Wynne. + +“Was it two?--I dare say it might--you know it is so impossible to keep +a register of deaths and marriages in one’s head. Pray, are you at all +acquainted, Mrs. Wynne, with the Duchess of A----? She was always a +prodigious friend of the Elmours, as I remember. How is that?--Are they +any way related, I wonder?” + +“Yes; they are now related by marriage,” said Mr. Wynne; “Mrs. Elmour is +a niece of the duchess.” + +“Indeed!” + +“She is a charming woman,” said Mr. Wynne; “so beautiful and yet so +unaffected--so sensible, yet so unassuming.” + +“Pray,” interrupted Mrs. Ingoldsby, “has not her grace conversaziones, +or reading parties, or something in that style every week?--She is quite +a learned lady, I understand. There was always something odd about her, +and I cannot help being afraid of her.” + +“I assure you,” said Mrs. Wynne, “that there is nothing odd or strange +about the Duchess of A----. She has always the most agreeable society +that London can afford.” + +Miss Turnbull and Mrs. Ingoldsby interchanged looks of affected +contempt: but Mr. Wynne added, “Her grace has, you know, a taste +for literature and for the arts; and the most celebrated literary +characters, as well as those who have distinguished themselves in active +life, assemble at her house, where they can enjoy the most agreeable +conversation--that in which a knowledge of books and of the world is +happily blended.” + +“And as to being afraid of her grace,” resumed Mrs. Wynne, “that is +quite impossible; she has such affable, engaging manners. I am sure, +even I am not in the least afraid of her.” + +“But you know,” said Miss Turnbull, with a malicious look of mock +humility, “there is a difference between you and me.--I would not meet +her grace for the world, for I am persuaded I should not be able to +articulate a syllable in her classical presence--I have not been used to +that style of company, by any means. I assure you I should be, as Mrs. +Ingoldsby says, horribly afraid of your witty duchess.” + +“She has none of the airs of a wit, believe me,” said Mrs. Wynne, +growing more and more earnest; “and if you will not believe me, ask your +friend Ellen.” + +“Oh, excuse me, I beseech; I shall ask no questions--I only beg leave to +keep myself well when I am well. The Elmours who are so clever, and have +such merit and so on, are all vastly better suited to her grace than I +am.” + +No contradiction ensued--our heroine was mortified beyond the power of +concealment. + +After dinner, when the ladies retired, Mrs. Wynne, though somewhat +alarmed and puzzled by Miss Turnbull’s behaviour, summoned all the +resolution which benevolence could inspire, and resolved at once to come +to the point with our heroine. She flattered herself that all in Miss +Turnbull that appeared inauspicious to her hopes was only _her manner,_ +that sort of manner which people, who live much in high life, catch and +practise, without meaning to give themselves airs, or to humble their +neighbours. + +Many persons will perhaps think good Mrs. Wynne almost an idiot: but she +was a woman of abilities; and if she did not exert them in discovering +with promptitude the follies of others, she enjoyed much happiness in +her benevolent scepticism. This evening, however, she was doomed to +be absolutely convinced, against her will, that she had formed too +favourable an opinion of one of her fellow-creatures. + +She was eager to explain herself to Almeria before Ellen and Mr. +Frederick Elmour should arrive; she therefore took her aside, and +began without any preface:--“My dear Miss Turnbull, here is a charming +opportunity for you to do a kind, and generous, and grateful action. +This poor Mrs. Henry Elmour!--She has told you how she has been reduced +to distress without any imprudence of hers. Now you could not, I am +sure, prove the goodness of your own heart better to your friends +(who will be here in half an hour) than by showing kindness to this +unfortunate widow. I cannot presume to say more than that I think she +would make a most agreeable companion to an amiable, sensible young +lady--and you have not decided your choice, have you?” + +“Pardon me, I have decided, beyond a possibility of retracting,” replied +Miss Turnbull, haughtily. + +“I am very sorry,” said Mrs. Wynne, with an expression of real concern +in her countenance. “I have been very imprudent.” + +“Really I am infinitely distressed that it is out of my power to oblige +her; but the lady who is with me now, Mrs. Ingoldsby, has a prior +claim.” + +Prior claim!--prior to that of the Elmour family! thought Mrs. Wynne. + +The decisive manner in which Miss Turnbull spoke precluded all further +hope. + +“Well, I did think it would have been such a pleasure to Miss Turnbull +to meet Mrs. Henry Elmour, and all her old friends the Elmours here +to-day; and I fancied, that if there had been any little coolness or +misunderstanding, it would quite have passed off, and that I should have +had the joy of seeing you all shake hands--I thought it would have been +such an agreeable surprise to you to see all the Elmour family, and +Ellen’s charming little girl, and Mr. Frederick Elmour’s boy!” + +A more disagreeable surprise could scarcely have been imagined for +our heroine. She informed Mrs. Wynne, coldly, that there was not the +slightest quarrel between her and any of the Elmours; and that therefore +there was no necessity, or possible occasion, for any shaking of hands +or reconciliation scenes: that undoubtedly the style of life she +had been thrown into had entirely separated her from her Yorkshire +acquaintance; and time had dissolved the sort of intimacy that +neighbourhood had created: that she should always, notwithstanding, be +most particularly happy to meet any of the Elmour family; though, from +her situation, it was a good fortune she had not often enjoyed, nor +indeed could in future expect: but that she wished it to be understood, +and repeated, that she always in all companies properly acknowledged the +obligations she had to Mr. Frederick Elmour as a lawyer. Her cause, she +believed, was the first in which he had distinguished himself; and +she was rejoiced to find that he had since risen so rapidly in his +profession.--As to Miss Ellen Elmour, she was a very charming, sensible +young woman, no doubt; and Miss Turnbull assured Mrs. Wynne she was +delighted to hear she was so suitably married in point of understanding +and temper, and all that sort of thing--and besides, to a gentleman of +a reasonable fortune, which she was happy to hear Mr. Charles Wynne +possessed. + +Here she was interrupted in her speech--the door opened, and the Duchess +of A----, Mr. and Mrs. Elmour, and Mr. and Mrs. Charles Wynne, were +announced. Our heroine was not prepared for the sight of the duchess; +and her grace’s appearance made her receive her old friends in a manner +very different from that in which she had determined to meet them. +Practised as she was, she stood irresolute and awkward, whilst Ellen, +with easy, graceful kindness, accosted her, and immediately introduced +her to the Duchess of A----. As Mr. Frederick Elmour approached, and as +his beautiful wife was presented to Miss Turnbull, not all her efforts +could conceal the mortification she endured, whilst she pronounced that +she was vastly happy--quite delighted--that all this was really such an +agreeable and _unexpected surprise_ to her--for she did not even know +any of her Yorkshire friends were in town. + +Mrs. Ingoldsby came up to her assistance. Miss Turnbull rallied her +spirits, and determined to make her stand upon the exclusive ground of +fashion. Those who comprehend the rights of the privileged orders of +fashion are aware that even a commoner, who is in a certain _set_, is +far superior to a duchess who is not supposed to move in that magic +circle, Almeria, upon this principle, began to talk to the duchess +of some of her acquaintance, who were of the highest _ton_; and then +affectedly checked herself, and begged pardon, and looked surprised at +Mrs. Ingoldsby, when she found that her grace was not acquainted with +them. Much as Miss Turnbull had reason to complain of Lady Pierrepoint +and the young bride the marchioness, she now thought that their names +would do her honour; and she scrupled not to speak of them as her +best friends, and as the most amiable creatures existing.--Such is the +meanness and insufficiency of vanity! + +“Poor Lady Pierrepoint,” said the Duchess of A----: “with her +independent fortune, what could tempt her to enslave herself, as she has +done, to a court life?” + +“Her ladyship finds herself suited to her situation, I believe,” said +Miss Turnbull. “Lady Pierrepoint is certainly formed, more than most +people I know, to succeed and shine in a court; and she is in favour, +and in power, and in fashion.” + +“Does it follow of course that she is happy?” said Ellen. + +“Oh! happy--of course; I suppose so.” + +“No doubt,” said Mrs. Ingoldsby; “she has every reason to be happy: has +not she just made her niece marchioness?” + +Miss Turnbull repeated “_Happy!_ to be sure Lady Pierrepoint is happy, +if any body in the world is happy.”--A short sigh escaped from our +heroine. + +Ellen heard the sigh, and attended to it more than to her words; +she looked upon her with compassion, and endeavoured to change the +conversation. + +“We spend this winter in town; and as I think I know your _real_ tastes, +Almeria,” said she, taking Almeria’s hand, “we must have the pleasure of +introducing you to some of her grace’s literary friends, who will, I am +sure, please and suit you particularly.” + +Mr. Frederick Elmour, who now really pitied Almeria, though in his +pity there was a strong mixture of contempt, joined his sister in her +kindness, and named and described some of the people whom he thought +she would be most desirous of knowing. The names struck Miss Turnbull’s +ears, for they were the names of persons distinguished in the +fashionable as well as in the literary world; and she was dismayed and +mortified by the discovery that her _country friends_ had by some means, +incomprehensible to her, gained distinction and intimacy in society +where she had merely admission; she was vexed beyond expression when she +found that _the Elmours_ were superior to her even on her own ground. +At this instant Mrs. Wynne, with her usual simplicity, asked Mrs. Elmour +and Ellen why they had not brought their charming children with them; +adding, “You are, my dears, without exception, the two happiest mothers +and wives I am acquainted with. And after all, what happiness is there +equal to domestic happiness?--Oh! my dear Miss Turnbull, trust me, +though I am a silly old woman, there’s nothing like it--and friends at +court are not like friends at home--and all the Lady Pierrepoints that +ever were or ever will be born, are not, as you’ll find when you come to +try them, like one of these plain good Ellens and Elmours.” + +The address, simple as it was, came so home to Almeria’s experience, +and so many recollections rushed at once upon her memory, that all her +factitious character of a fine lady gave way to natural feeling, and +suddenly she burst into tears. + +“Good heavens! my dear Miss Turnbull,” cried Mrs. Ingoldsby, “what +is the matter?--Are not you well?--Salts! salts!--the heat of the +room!--Poor thing!--she has such weak nerves.--Mr. Elmour, may I +trouble you to ring the bell for our carriage? Miss Turnbull has such +sensibility! This meeting, so unexpected, with so many old friends, has +quite overcome her.” + +Miss Turnbull, recalled to herself by Mrs. Ingoldsby’s voice, repeated +the request to have her carriage immediately, and departed with Mrs. +Ingoldsby as soon as she possibly could, utterly abashed and mortified; +mortified most at not having been able to conceal her mortification. +Incapable absolutely of articulating, she left Mrs. Ingoldsby to cover +her retreat, as well as she could, with weak nerves and sensibility. + +Even the charitable Mrs. Wynne was now heard to acknowledge that she +could neither approve of Miss Turnbull’s conduct, nor frame any apology +for it. She confessed that it looked very like what she of all things +detested most--_ingratitude_. Her nephew, who had been a cool observant +spectator of this evening’s performance, was glad that his aunt’s mind +was now decided by Almeria’s conduct. He exclaimed that he would not +marry such a woman, if her portion were to be the mines of Peru. + +Thus Miss Turnbull lost all chance of the esteem and affection of +another man of sense and temper, who might even at this late period of +her life have recalled her from the follies of dissipation, and rendered +her permanently happy. + +And now that our heroine must have lost all power of interesting the +reader, now that the pity even of the most indulgent must be utterly +sunk in contempt, we shall take our leave of her, resigning her to that +misery which she had been long preparing for herself. It is sufficient +to say, that after this period she had some offers from men of fashion +of ruined fortunes; but these she rejected, still fancying that with +her wealth she could not fail to make a splendid match. So she went on +coquetting; and coquetting, rejecting and rejecting, till at length she +arrived at an age when she could reject no longer. She ceased to be an +object to matrimonial adventurers, but to these succeeded a swarm of +female legacy-hunters. Among the most distinguished was her companion, +Mrs. Ingoldsby, whose character she soon discovered to be artful and +selfish in the extreme. This lady’s flattery, therefore, lost all its +power to charm, but yet it became necessary to Almeria; and even when +she knew that she was duped, she could not part with Mrs. Ingoldsby, +because it was not in her power to supply the place of a flatterer with +a _friend_.--A friend! that first blessing of life, cannot be bought--it +must be deserved. + +Miss, or as she must now be called, _Mrs_. Almeria Turnbull, is still +alive--probably at this moment haunting some place of public amusement, +or stationary at the card-table. Wherever she may be, she is despised +and discontented; one example more amongst thousands, that wealth cannot +purchase, or fashion bestow, real happiness. + +“See how the world its veterans rewards--youth of folly, an old age of +cards!” + +_Edgeworth’s-Town_, 1802. + + + + + + +_VIVIAN_. + + + +PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. + + +Miss Edgeworth’s general views, in these stories, are explained in the +preface to the first volume. I cannot, however, omit repeating, that +public favour has not yet rendered her so presumptuous as to offer hasty +effusions to her readers, but that she takes a longer time to revise +what she writes than the severe ancients required for the highest +species of moral fiction. + +Vivian exposes one of the most common defects of mankind. To be “infirm +of purpose” is to be at the mercy of the artful or at the disposal of +accident. Look round, and count the numbers who have, within your own +knowledge, failed from want of firmness. + +An excellent and wise mother gave the following advice with her dying +breath: “My son, learn early how to say, No!”--This precept gave the +first idea of the story of Vivian. + +THE ABSENTEE is not intended as a censure upon those whose duties, and +employments, and superior talents, lead them to the capital; but to warn +the thoughtless and the unoccupied from seeking distinction by frivolous +imitation of fashion and ruinous waste of fortune. + +A country gentleman, or even a nobleman, who does not sit in parliament, +may be as usefully and as honourably employed in Yorkshire, Mid Lothian, +or Ireland, as at a club-house or an assembly in London. + +Irish agents are here described as of two different species. That there +have been bad and oppressive Irish agents, many great landed English +proprietors have felt; that there are well-informed, just, and +honourable Irish agents, every-day experience can testify. + +MADAME DE FLEURY points out some of the means which may be employed +by the rich for the real advantage of the poor. This story shows that +sowing gold does not always produce a golden harvest; but that knowledge +and virtue, when early implanted in the human breast, seldom fail to +make ample returns of prudence and felicity. + +EMILIE DE COULANGES exposes a fault into which the good and generous are +liable to fall. + +Great sacrifices and great benefits cannot frequently be made or +conferred by private individuals; but, every day, kindness and attention +to the common feelings of others is within the power, and may be the +practice, of every age, and sex, and station. Common faults are reproved +by all writers on morality; but there are errors and defects that +require to be treated in a lighter manner, and that come, with +propriety, within the province of essayists and of writers for the +stage. + +R. L. EDGEWORTH. _May_, 1812. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +“To see the best, and yet the worse pursue.” + + +“Is it possible,” exclaimed Vivian, “that you, Russell, my friend, my +best friend, can tell me that this line is the motto of my character!--’ +To see the best, and yet the worse pursue.--Then you must think me +either a villain or a madman.” + +“No,” replied Russell, calmly; “I think you only weak.” + +“Weak--but you must think me an absolute fool.” + +“No, not a fool; the weakness of which I accuse you is not a weakness +of the understanding. I find no fault either with the logical or the +mathematical part of your understanding. It is not erroneous in either +of the two great points in which Bacon says that most men’s minds be +deficient in--the power of judging of consequences, or in the power of +estimating the comparative value of objects.” + +“Well,” cried Vivian, impatiently, “but I don’t want to hear just now +what Bacon says--but what _you_ think. Tell me all the faults of my +character.” + +“All!--unconscionable!--after the fatigue of this long day’s journey,” + said Russell, laughing. + +These two friends were, at this time, travelling from Oxford to Vivian +Hall (in ----shire), the superb seat of the Vivian family, to which +Vivian was heir. Mr. Russell, though he was but a few years older than +Vivian, had been his tutor at college; and by an uncommon transition, +had, from his tutor, become his intimate friend. + +After a pause, Vivian resumed, “Now I think of it, Russell, you are to +blame, if I have any faults. Don’t you say, that every thing is to +be done by education? And are not you--though by much too young, and +infinitely too handsome, for a philosopher--are not you my guide, +philosopher, and friend?” + +“But I have had the honour to be your guide, philosopher, and friend, +only for these three years,” said Russell. “I believe in the rational, +but not in the magical, power of education. How could I do, or undo, in +three years, the work of the preceding seventeen?” + +“Then, if you won’t let me blame you, I must blame my mother.” + +“Your mother!--I had always understood that she had paid particular +attention to your early education, and all the world says that Lady +Mary Vivian, though a woman of fashion, is remarkably well-informed and +domestic; and, judging from those of her letters which you have shown +me, I should think that, for once, what all the world says is right.” + +“What all the world says is right, and yet I am not wrong:--my mother +is a very clever woman, and most affectionate, and she certainly paid +particular attention to my early education; but her attention was too +particular, her care was too great. You know I was an only son--then +I lost my father when I was an infant; and a woman, let her be ever +so sensible, cannot well educate an _only_ son, without some manly +assistance; the fonder she is of the son the worse, even if her fondness +is not foolish fondness--it makes her over-anxious--it makes her do too +much. My mother took too much, a great deal too much, care of me; she +over-educated, over-instructed, over-dosed me with premature lessons of +prudence: she was so afraid that I should ever do a foolish thing, or +not say a wise one, that she prompted my every word, and guided my every +action. So I grew up, seeing with her eyes, hearing with her ears, and +judging with her understanding, till, at length, it was found out that +I had not eyes, ears, or understanding of my own. When I was +between twelve and thirteen, my mother began to think that I was not +sufficiently manly for my age, and that there was something too yielding +and undecided in my character. Seized with a panic, my mother, to make +a man of me at once, sent me to ---- school. There I was, with all +convenient expedition, made ashamed of every thing good I had learned at +home; and there I learned every thing bad, and nothing good, that could +be learned at school. I was inferior in Latin and Greek; and this was a +deficiency I could not make up without more labour than I had courage to +undertake. I was superior in general literature, but this was of +little value amongst my competitors, and therefore I despised it; and, +overpowered by numbers and by ridicule, I was, of course, led into all +sorts of folly, by mere _mauvaise honte_. Had I been in the habit of +exercising my own judgment, or had my resolution been strengthened by +degrees; had I, in short, been prepared for a school, I might, perhaps, +have acquired, by a public education, a manly, independent spirit. If +I had even been wholly bred up in a public school, I might have been +forced, as others were, by early and fair competition, to exercise my +own powers, and by my own experience in that microcosm, as it has been +called, I might have formed some rules of conduct, some manliness +of character, and might have made, at least, a good schoolboy. Half +home-bred, and half school-bred, from want of proper preparation, +one half of my education totally destroyed the other. From school, of +course, I went to college, and at college, of course, I should have +become one of the worst species of college lads, and should have had +no chance, in my whole future life, of being any thing but a dissipated +fool of fashion, one of the _Four-in-Hand Club_, or the _Barouche Club_, +or the _Tandem Club_, or the _Defiance Club_, had not I, by the greatest +good fortune, met with such a friend as you, and, by still greater good +fortune, found you out for myself; for if my mother had recommended you +to me, I should have considered you only as a college tutor; I should +never have discovered half your real merit; I doubt whether I should +have even seen that you are young and handsome: so prejudiced should I +have been with the preconceived notion of a college tutor, that I am not +certain whether I should have found out that you are a gentleman as well +born and well bred as myself; but, be that as it may, I am positive that +I never should have made you my companion and friend; I should never +have thrown open my whole soul to you, as I have done; nor could you +ever have obtained such wondrous power as you possess over my mind, if +you had been recommended to me by my mother.” + +“I am sorry,” said Russell, smiling, “that, after so many wise +reflections, and so many fine compliments, you end by proving to me that +my wondrous power is founded on your wondrous weakness. I am mortified +to find that your esteem and friendship for me depended so much upon my +not having had the honour of your mother’s recommendation; and have not +I reason to fear, that now, when I have a chance of becoming acquainted +with Lady Mary Vivian, and, perhaps, a chance of her thinking me a fit +companion and friend for her son, I must lose his regard and +confidence, because I shall labour under the insuperable objection of an +affectionate mother’s approbation?” + +“No, no,” said Vivian; “my wilful folly does not go quite so far as +that. So that I maintain the privilege of choosing my friends for +myself, I shall always be pleased and proud to find my mother approve my +choice.” + +After a few moments’ pause, Vivian added, “You misunderstand, quite +misunderstand me, if you think that I am not fond of my mother. I +respect and love her with all my soul:--I should be a most ungrateful +wretch if I did not. I did very wrong to speak as I did just now, of +any little errors she may have made in my education; but, believe me, I +would not have said so much to any one living but yourself, nor to you, +but in strict confidence; and, after all, I don’t know whether I ought +not to lay the blame of my faults on my masters more than on my poor +mother.” + +“Lay the blame where we will,” said Russell, “remember, that the +punishment will rest on ourselves. We may, with as much philosophic +justice as possible, throw the blame of our faults on our parents and +preceptors, and on the early mismanagement of our minds; yet, after we +have made out our case in the abstract, to the perfect satisfaction of a +jury of metaphysicians, when we come to _overt_ actions, all our judges, +learned and unlearned, are so awed, by the ancient precedents and +practice of society, and by the obsolete law of common sense, that they +finish by pronouncing against us the barbarous sentence, that every man +must suffer for his own faults.” + +“‘I hope I shall be able to bear it, my lord,’ as the English sailor +said when the judge----But look out there! Let down that glass on your +side of the carriage!” cried Vivian, starting forward. “There’s Vivian +Hall!” + +“That fine old castle?” said Russell, looking out of the window. + +“No; but farther off to the left, don’t you see amongst the trees that +house with wings?” + +“Ha! quite a new, modern house: I had always fancied that Vivian Hall +was an old pile of building.” + +“So it was, till my father threw down the old hall, and built this new +house.” + +“And a very handsome one it is.--Is it as good within as without?” + +“Quite, I think; but I’ll leave you to judge for yourself.--Are not +those fine old trees in the park?” + +From this time till the travellers arrived at Vivian Hall, their +conversation turned upon trees, and avenues, and serpentine +_approaches_, and alterations that Vivian intended to make, when he +should be of age, and master of this fine place; and he now wanted but a +twelvemonth of being at legal years of discretion. When they arrived at +the hall, Lady Mary Vivian showed much affectionate joy at the sight of +her son, and received Mr. Russell with such easy politeness that he was +prepossessed at first in her favour. To this charm of well-bred manners +was united the appearance of sincerity and warmth of feeling. In +her conversation there was a mixture of excellent sense and general +literature with the frivolities of the fashionable world, and the +anecdotes of the day in certain high circles, of which she seemed to +talk more from habit than taste, and to annex importance more from the +compulsion of external circumstances than from choice. But her son,--her +son was the great object of all her thoughts, serious or frivolous. +She was delighted by the improvements she saw in his understanding +and character; by the taste and talents he displayed, both for fine +literature and for solid information: this flattered her hope that he +would both shine as a polished gentleman and make a figure in public +life. To his friend Russell she attributed these happy improvements; +and, though he was not a tutor of her own original selection, yet +her pride, on this occasion, yielded to gratitude, and she graciously +declared, that she could not feel jealous of the pre-eminent power he +had obtained over her son, when she saw the admirable use he made of +this influence. Vivian, like all candid and generous persons, being +peculiarly touched by candour and generosity in others, felt his +affection for his mother rapidly increased by this conduct; nor did his +enthusiasm for his friend in the least abate, in consequence of the high +approbation with which she honoured him, nor even in consequence of her +ladyship’s frequent and rather injudicious expressions of her hopes, +that her son would always preserve and show himself worthy of such a +friend. + +He joined in his mother’s entreaties to Russell to prolong his visit; +and as her ladyship declared she thought it of essential consequence to +her son’s interest and future happiness, that he should, at this _turn +of his life_, have such a companion, Russell consented to remain with +him some time longer. All parties were thus pleased with each other, and +remained united by one common interest about the same objects, during +several weeks of a delightful summer. But, alas! this family harmony, +and this accord of reason and _will_, between the mother and son, were +not of longer duration. As usual, there were faults on both sides. + +Lady Mary Vivian, whose hopes of her son’s distinguishing himself by his +abilities had been much exalted since his last return from Oxford, had +indulged herself in pleasing anticipations of the time when he should +make his appearance in the fashionable and in the political world. She +foresaw the respect that would be paid to her, on his account, both by +senators and by matrons; by ministers, who might want to gain a rising +orator’s vote, and by mothers, who might wish to make an excellent match +for their daughters: not only by all mothers who had daughters to marry, +but by all daughters who had hearts or hands to dispose of, Lady +Mary felt secure of having her society courted. Now, she had rather +extravagant expectations for her son: she expected him to marry, so as +to secure domestic happiness, and, at the same time, to have fashion, +and beauty, and rank, and high connexions, and every amiable quality in +a wife. This vision of a future daughter-in-law continually occupied her +ladyship’s imagination. Already, with maternal _Alnascharism_, she had, +in her reveries, thrown back her head with disdain, as she repulsed the +family advances of some wealthy but low-born heiress, or as she rejected +the alliance of some of the new nobility. Already she had arranged +the very words of her answers to these, and determined the degrees and +shades of her intimacies with those; already had she settled + +“To whom to nod, whom take into her coach, Whom honour with her hand;” + +when one morning, as she sat at work, absorbed in one of these reveries, +she was so far “rapt into future times,” that, without perceiving that +any body was present, she began to speak her thoughts, and said aloud to +herself, “As if my son could possibly think of her!” + +Her son, who was opposite to her, lying on a sofa, reading, or seeming +to read, started up, and putting down his book, exclaimed, in a +voice which showed at once that he was conscious of thinking of some +particular person, and determined to persist in the thought, “As if your +son could possibly think of her!----Of whom, ma’am?” + +“What’s the matter, child? Are you mad?” + +“Not in the least, ma’am; but you said----” + +“What!” cried Lady Mary, looking round; “What did I say, that has +occasioned so much disturbance?--I was not conscious of saying any +thing. My dear Selina,” continued her ladyship, appealing to a young +lady, who sat very intent upon some drawing beside her, “my dear Selina, +you must have heard; what did I say?” + +The young lady looked embarrassed; and the colour which spread over her +face, brought a sudden suspicion into Lady Mary’s mind: her eye darted +back upon her son--the suspicion, the fear was confirmed; and she grew +instantly pale, silent, and breathless, in the attitude in which she was +struck with this panic. The young lady’s blush and embarrassment had a +very different effect on Vivian; joy suddenly sparkled in his eyes, and +illumined his whole countenance, for this was the first instant he had +ever felt any hope of having obtained an interest in her heart. He was +too much transported at this moment to think either of prudence or +of his mother; and, when he recollected himself, he was too little +practised in dissimulation to repair his indiscretion. Something he did +attempt to say, and blundered, and laughed at his blunder; and when his +mother looked up at him, in serious silence, he only begged pardon for +his folly, confessed he believed he was mad, and, turning away abruptly, +left the room, exclaiming that he wondered where Russell had been all +the morning, and that he must go and look for him. A long silence +ensued between Vivian’s mother and the young lady, who were left alone +together. Lady Mary first broke the silence, and, in a constrained tone, +asked, as she took up the newspaper, “Whether Miss Sidney had found any +news?” + +“I don’t know, ma’am,” answered Miss Sidney, in a voice scarcely +articulate. + +“I should have imagined there must be some news from the continent: +but you did not find any, I think you say, Miss Sidney;” continued Lady +Mary, with haughty, averted eyes. After turning over the pages of the +paper, without knowing one word it contained, she laid it down, and rose +to leave the room. Miss Sidney rose at the same time. + +“Lady Mary, one instant; my dear Lady Mary.” + +Lady Mary turned, and saw Selina’s supplicating eyes full of tears; but +her ladyship, still retaining her severity of manner, coldly said, “Does +Miss Sidney desire that I should stay?--Does Miss Sidney wish to speak +to me?” + +“I do--as soon as I can,” said Selina in a faltering voice; but, raising +her eyes, and perceiving the contemptuous expression of Lady Mary’s +countenance, her own instantly changed. With the firm tone of conscious +innocence, she repeated, “I do wish to speak to your ladyship, if you +will hear me with your usual candour; I do not expect or solicit your +usual indulgence.” + +“Miss Sidney,” replied Lady Mary, “before you say more, it becomes me to +point out to you, that the moment is past for confidence between us two; +and that in no moment could I wish to hear from any person, much less +from one whom I had considered as my friend, confessions, extorted by +circumstances, degrading and unavailing.” + +“Your ladyship need not be apprehensive of hearing from me any degrading +confessions,” said Miss Sidney; “I have none to make: and since, without +any just cause, without any cause for suspicion, but what a blush, +perhaps, or a moment’s embarrassment of manner may have created, you +think it becomes you to point out to me that the moment for confidence +between us is past, I can only lament my mistake in having believed that +it ever existed.” + +Lady Mary’s countenance and manner totally changed. The pride of rank +yielded before the pride of virtue; and perhaps the hope that she had +really no cause for suspicion at once restored her affection for her +young friend. “Let us understand one another, my dear Selina,” said she; +“if I said a hasty or a harsh word, forgive it. You know my affection +for you, and my real confidence; in actions, not in words, I have shown +it.--In thought, as well as in actions, my confidence in you has been +entire; for, _upon my word,_ and you know this is not an asseveration I +lightly use, _upon my word,_ till that unfortunate moment, a suspicion +of you never crossed my imagination. The proof--if there could need any +proof to you of what I assert--the proof is, the delight I take in your +society, the urgent manner in which I have so frequently, this summer, +begged your company from your mother. You know this would have not only +been the height of insincerity, but of folly and madness, if I had +not felt a reliance upon you that made me consider it as an absolute +impossibility that you could ever disappoint my friendship.” + +“I thank your ladyship,” said Selina, softened by the kind tone in which +Lady Mary now spoke, yet still retaining some reserve of manner; +“I thank your ladyship for all your kindness--it has flattered me +much--touched me deeply--commanded my gratitude, and influenced my +conduct uniformly--I can and do entirely forgive the injustice of a +moment; and I now bid you adieu, my dear Lady Mary, with the conviction +that, if we were never to meet again, I should always hold that place in +your esteem and affection with which you have honoured me, and which, if +it be not too proud an expression, I hope I have deserved----Won’t you +bid me farewell?” + +The tears gushed from Lady Mary’s eyes. “My dear, charming, and prudent +Selina, I understand you perfectly--and I thank you: it grieves me to +part with you--but I believe you are right--I believe there is no other +safety--no other remedy. How, indeed, could I expect that my son could +see and hear you--live in the house with you, and become intimately +acquainted with such a character as yours, without danger! I have +been very imprudent, unaccountably imprudent, to expose him to such +a temptation; but I hope, I trust, that your prudence will repair, in +time, the effects of my rashness--and again and again I thank you, my +dear young friend--but, perhaps it might be still better that you should +not leave us abruptly. Still better than your absence, I think, would be +the conviction you might impress on his mind of the impossibility of +his hopes: if you were to stay a day or two, and convince him by your +indifference that----” “Excuse me, that is what I cannot undertake,” + said Selina, blushing, and conscious of blushing. Lady Mary was too +polite and too delicate to seem to observe her confusion, but, embracing +her, said--“If we must part, then take with you my highest esteem, +affection, and gratitude; and this much let me add, that my most +sanguine expectations for my son’s happiness would be realized, if +amongst the women to whom family interests must restrict his choice, he +could meet with one of half your merit, and half your attractions.” + +“_Amongst the women to whom family interests must restrict his choice_,” + repeated Selina to herself many times, as she journeyed homewards; and +she pondered much upon the meaning of this phrase. Vivian was sole +heir to a very large property, without encumbrances of any kind; what, +therefore, was the necessity that restricted his choice? The imaginary +necessity of ambition, which confined him to a certain circle of +fashionable, or _highly connected_ people. Selina Sidney, though she was +not rich, was of a very good gentleman’s family; her father had been a +colonel in the British army: during his life, Mrs. Sidney had been in +the habit of living a great deal in what is called _the world,_ and +in the best company; and though, since his death, she had lived in +retirement, Miss Sidney had received an education which put her upon a +footing with young ladies of the highest accomplishments and refinement +in the kingdom. With every solid and amiable quality, she had all those +external advantages of appearance and manner which Lady Mary Vivian +valued most highly. Selina, who was convinced that Lady Mary appreciated +her character, and was peculiarly fond of her company and conversation, +could not but feel surprise, mixed with some indignation, perhaps with a +little resentment, when she perceived that her ladyship’s prejudices +and ambition made her act so completely in contradiction to her better +judgment, to her professions, and to her feelings of affection. Whatever +Miss Sidney thought upon this subject, however, she determined to +continue to avoid seeing Vivian any more--an excellent resolution, in +which we leave her, and return to her lover. + +A walk with Russell had brought him back in the full determination of +avowing his attachment sincerely to his mother, and of speaking to her +ladyship in the most respectful manner; but, when he found that Miss +Sidney was gone, anger and disappointment made him at once forget his +prudence, and his intended respect; he declared, in the most passionate +terms, his love for Selina Sidney, and his irrevocable determination +to pursue her, to the end of time and space, in spite of all opposition +whatsoever from any person whatever. His mother, who was prepared for a +scene of this sort, though not for one of this violence, had sufficient +command of temper to sustain it properly; her command of temper was, +indeed, a little assisted by the hope that this passion would be +transitory in proportion to its vehemence, much by the confidence she +had in Miss Sidney’s _honour_, and in her absence: Lady Mary, therefore, +calmly disclaimed having had any part in persuading Miss Sidney to that +measure which had so much enraged her lover; but her ladyship avowed, +that though it had not been necessary for her to suggest the measure, +she highly approved of it, and admired now, as she had ever admired, +that young lady’s prudent and noble conduct. + +Softened by the only thing that could, at this moment, soften +him--praise of his mistress--Vivian, in a most affectionate manner, +assured his mother that it was her warm eulogiums of Miss Sidney which +had first turned his attention to the perfections of her character; and +he now inquired what possible objections she could make to his choice. +With the generous enthusiasm of his disposition, heightened by all the +eloquence of love, he pleaded, that his fortune was surely sufficient to +put him above mercenary considerations in the choice of a wife; that in +every point, except this one of _money_, Selina Sidney was, in his own +mother’s opinion, superior to every other woman she could name, or wish +for, as a daughter-in-law. + +“But my tastes are not to blind me to your interests,” said Lady Mary; +“you are entitled to look for rank and high connexion. You are the +representative of an ancient family, have talents to make a figure in +public; and, in short, prejudice or not, I confess it is one of the +first wishes of my heart that you should marry into a noble family, or +at least into one that shall strengthen your political interest, as well +as secure your domestic happiness.” + +Vivian, of course, cursed ambition, as all men do whilst they are in +love. His arguments and his eloquence in favour of a _private station_, +and of the joys of _learned leisure, a competence, and domestic bliss_, +were worthy of the most renowned of ancient or modern philosophers. +Russell was appealed to with much eagerness, both by mother and son, +during their debates. He frankly declared to Lady Mary, that he thought +her son perfectly right in all he now urged, and especially in his +opinion of Miss Sidney; “but at the same time,” added Russell, “I +apprehend that he speaks, at this moment, more from passion than from +reason; and I fear that, in the course of a few months, he might, +perhaps, entirely change his mind: therefore, I think your ladyship is +prudent in refusing, during the minority of your son, your consent to a +hasty union, of which he might afterwards repent, and thus render both +himself and a most amiable woman miserable.” + +Russell, after having given his opinion with the utmost freedom, when +it was required by Lady Mary, assured her that he should no farther +interfere; and he trusted his present sincerity would be the best pledge +to her of his future discretion and honour. This equitable judgment and +sincerity of Russell’s at first displeased both parties, but in time +operated upon the reason of both; not, however, before contests had gone +on long and loud between the mother and son--not before a great deal +of nonsense had been talked on both sides. People of the best abilities +often talk the most nonsense where their passions are concerned, because +then the whole of their ingenuity is exercised to find arguments in +favour of their folly. They are not, like fools, content to say, _This +is my will_; but they pique themselves on giving reasons for their +will; and their reasons are the reasons of madmen, excellent upon +false premises. It happened here, as in most family quarrels, that the +disputants did not allow sufficiently for the prejudices and errors +incident to their different ages. The mother would not allow for the +romantic notions of the son, nor could the son endure the worldly views +of the mother. The son, who had as yet no experience of the transitory +nature of the passion of love, thought his mother unfeeling and +barbarous, for opposing him on the point where the whole happiness of +his life was concerned; the mother, who had seen the decline and fall of +so many _everlasting loves_, considered him only as a person in a fever; +and thought she prevented him, by her calmness, from doing that which he +would repent when he should regain his sober senses. Without detailing +the daily disputes which now arose, it will be sufficient to mark the +result. + +Vivian’s love had been silent, tranquil, and not seemingly of any great +consequence, till it was opposed; but, from the instant that an obstacle +intervened, it gathered strength and force, and it presently rose +rapidly, with prodigious uproar, threatening to burst all bounds, and to +destroy every thing that stopped its course. Lady Mary was now inclined +to try what effect lessening the opposition might produce. To do her +justice, she was also moved to this by some nobler motives than fear; +or, at least, her fears were not of a selfish kind: she dreaded that her +son’s health and permanent happiness might be injured by this violent +passion; she was apprehensive of becoming an object of his aversion; +of utterly losing his confidence, and all power over his mind; but, +chiefly, her generous temper was moved and won by Selina Sidney’s +admirable conduct. During the whole time that Vivian used every means +to see her, to write to her, and to convince her of the fervour of his +love, though he won all her friends over to his interests, though she +heard his praises from morning till night from all who surrounded her, +and though her own heart, perhaps, pleaded more powerfully than all +the rest in his favour; yet she never, for one instant, gave him the +slightest encouragement. Lady Mary’s esteem and affection were so much +increased by these strong proofs of friendship and honour, that +her prejudices yielded; and she at length declared, that if her son +continued, till he was of age, to feel the same attachment for this +amiable girl, she would give her consent to their union. But this, she +added, she promised only on one condition--that her son should abstain +from all attempts, in the interval, to see or correspond with Miss +Sidney, and that he should set out immediately to travel with Mr. +Russell. Transported with love, and joy, and victory, Vivian promised +every thing that was required of him, embraced his mother, and set out +upon his travels. + +“Allow,” said he triumphantly to Russell, as the chaise drove from the +door, “allow, my good friend, that you were mistaken, in your fears of +the weakness of my character, and of the yielding facility of my temper. +You see how firm I have been--you see what battle I have made--you see +how I have _stood out_.” + +“I never doubted,” said Russell, “your love of your own free will--I +never doubted your fear of being governed, especially by your mother; +but you do not expect that I should allow this to be a proof of strength +of character.” + +“What! do you suppose I act from love of my own free will merely?--Do +you call my love for Selina Sidney weakness?--Oh! take care, Russell; +for if once I find you pleading my mother’s cause against your +conscience----” + +“You will never find me pleading any cause against my conscience. I have +told your mother, as I have told you, my opinion of Miss Sidney--my firm +opinion--that she is peculiarly calculated to make the happiness of your +life, provided you continue to love her.” + +“Provided!--Oh!” cried Vivian, laughing, “spare your musty provisoes, my +dear philosopher! Would not any one think, now, you were an old man of +ninety? If this is all you have to fear, I am happy indeed.” + +“At present,” said Russell, calmly, “I have no fear, as I have just +told your mother, but that you should change your mind before you are of +age.” + +Vivian grew quite indignant at this suggestion. “You are angry with me,” + said Russell, “and so was your mother: she was angry because I said, I +_feared,_ instead of I _hoped,_ you would change your mind. Both parties +are angry with me for my sincerity.” + +“Sincerity!--no; but I am angry with you for your absurd suspicions of +my constancy.” + +“If they are absurd, you need not be angry,” said Russell; “I shall be +well pleased to see their absurdity demonstrated.” + +“Then I can demonstrate it this moment.” + +“Pardon me; not this moment; you must take time into the account. I make +no doubt but that, at this moment, you are heartily in love with Miss +Sidney; but the thing to be proved is, that your passion will not +decline in force, in proportion as it meets with less resistance. If it +does, you will acknowledge that it was more a love of your own free will +than a love of your mistress that has actuated you, which was the thing +to be proved.” + +“Hateful Q.E.D.!” cried Vivian; “you shall see the contrary, and, at +least, I will triumph over you.” + +If Russell had ever used art in his management of Vivian’s mind, he +might have been suspected of using it in favour of Miss Sidney at this +instant; for this prophecy of Vivian’s inconstancy was the most likely +means to prevent its accomplishment. Frequently, in the course of their +tour, when Vivian was in any situation where his constancy was tempted, +he recollected Russell’s prediction, and was proud to remind him how +much he had been mistaken. In short, the destined time for their return +home arrived--Vivian presented himself before his mother, and claimed +her promise. She was somewhat surprised, and a little disappointed, by +our hero’s constancy; but she could not retract her word; and, since +her compliance was now unavoidable, she was determined that it should be +gracious. She wrote to Selina, therefore, with great kindness, saying, +that whatever views of other connexions she might formerly have had for +her son, she had now relinquished them, convinced, by the constancy +of her son’s attachment, and by the merit of its object, that his own +choice would most effectually ensure his happiness, and that of all his +friends. Her ladyship added expressions of her regard and esteem, and of +the pleasure she felt in the thoughts of finding in her daughter-in-law +a friend and companion, whose society was peculiarly agreeable to her +taste and suited to her character. This letter entirely dissipated +Selina’s scruples of conscience; Vivian’s love and merit, all his good +and all his agreeable qualities, had now full and unreproved power to +work upon her tender heart. His generous, open temper, his candour, +his warm attachment to his friends, his cultivated understanding, +his brilliant talents, his easy, well-bred, agreeable manners, all +heightened in their power to please by the charm of love, justified, +even in the eyes of the aged and prudent, the passion he inspired. +Selina became extremely attached to him; and she loved with the +delightful belief that there was not, in the mind of her lover, the +seed of a single vice which threatened danger to his virtues or to their +mutual happiness. With his usual candour, he had laid open his whole +character to her, as far as he knew it himself; and had warned her of +that vacillation of temper, that easiness to be led, which Russell +had pointed out as a dangerous fault in his disposition. But of this +propensity Selina had seen no symptoms; on the contrary, the steadiness +of her lover in his attachment to her--the only point on which she had +yet seen him tried--decided her to trust to the persuasive voice of love +and hope, and to believe that Russell’s friendship had in this instance, +been too harsh or too timorous in its forebodings. + +Nothing now delayed the marriage of Vivian and Selina but certain legal +rites, which were to be performed on his coming of age, and before +marriage settlements could be drawn;--and the parties were doomed to +wait for the arrival of some trustee who was with his regiment abroad. +All these delays Vivian of course cursed: but, upon the whole, they +were borne by him with heroic patience, and by Selina with all the +tranquillity of confiding love, happy in the present, and not too +anxious for the future. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +“My dear Russell,” said Vivian, “love shall not make me forget +friendship; before I marry, I must see you provided for. Believe me, +this was the first--one of the first pleasures I promised myself, in +becoming master of a good fortune. Other thoughts, I confess, have +put it out of my head; so now let me tell you at once. I hate paltry +surprises with my friends: I have, you know--or rather, probably, you do +not know, for you are the most disinterested fellow upon earth--I have +an excellent living in my gift; it shall be yours; consider it as such +from this moment. If I knew a more deserving man, I would give it to +him, upon my honour; so you can’t refuse me. The incumbent can’t live +long; he is an old, very old, infirm man; you’ll have the living in a +year or two, and, in the mean time, stay with me. I ask it as a favour +from a friend, and you see how much I want a friend of your firm +character; and I hope you see, also, how much I can value, in others, +the qualities in which I am myself deficient.” + +Russell was much pleased and touched by Vivian’s generous gratitude, and +by the delicacy, as well as kindness of the manner in which he made +this offer; but Russell could not consistently with his feelings or his +principles live in a state of dependent idleness, waiting for a rich +living and the death of an old incumbent. He told Vivian that he had too +much affection for him, and too much respect for himself, ever to run +the hazard of sinking from the rank of an independent friend. After +rallying him, without effect, on his pride, Vivian acknowledged that he +was forced to admire him the more for his spirit. Lady Mary, too, who +was a great and sincere admirer of independence of character, warmly +applauded Mr. Russell, and recommended him, in the highest terms, to a +nobleman in the neighbourhood, who happened to be in want of a preceptor +for his only son. This nobleman was Lord Glistonbury: his lordship was +eager to engage a person of Russell’s reputation for talents; so the +affair was quickly arranged, and Lady Mary Vivian and her son went +to pay a morning visit at Glistonbury Castle, on purpose to accompany +Russell on his first introduction to the family. As they approached the +castle, Vivian was struck with its venerable Gothic appearance; he had +not had a near view of it for some years, and he looked at it with new +eyes. Formerly he had seen it only as a picturesque ornament to the +country; but now that he was himself possessor of an estate in the +vicinity, he considered Glistonbury Castle as a point of comparison +which rendered him dissatisfied with his own mansion. As he drove up +the avenue, and beheld the towers, turrets, battlements, and massive +entrance, his mother, who was a woman of taste, strengthened, by her +exclamations on the beauty of Gothic architecture, the wish that was +rising in his mind to convert his modern house into an _ancient_ castle: +she could not help sighing whilst she reflected that, if her son’s +affections had not been engaged, he might perhaps have obtained the +heart and hand of one of the fair daughters of this castle. Lady +Mary went no farther, even in her inmost thoughts. Incapable of +double-dealing, she resolved never even to let her son know what her +wishes had been with respect to a connexion with the Glistonbury family. +But the very reserve and _discretion_ with which her ladyship spoke--a +reserve unusual with her, and unsuited to the natural warmth of +her manner and temper--might have betrayed her to an acute and cool +observer. Vivian, however, at this instant, was too much intent upon +castle-building to admit any other ideas. + +When the carriage drove under the great gateway and stopped, Vivian +exclaimed, “What a fine old castle! how surprised Selina Sidney would +be, how delighted, to see my house metamorphosed into such a castle!” + +“It is a magnificent castle, indeed!” said Lady Mary, with a sigh: “I +think there are the Lady Lidhursts on the terrace; and here comes my +Lord Glistonbury with his son.” + +“My pupil?” said Russell; “I hope the youth is such as I can become +attached to. Life would be wretched indeed without attachment--of some +sort or other. But I must not expect,” added he, “to find a second time +a friend in a pupil; and such a friend!” + +Sentiment, or the expression of the tenderness he felt for his friends, +was so unusual from Russell, that it had double effect; and Vivian was +so much struck by it, that he could scarcely collect his thoughts in +time to speak to Lord Glistonbury, who came to receive his guests, +attended by three _hangers on_ of the family--a chaplain, a captain, +and a young lawyer. His lordship was scarcely past the meridian of life; +yet, in spite of his gay and debonair manner, he looked old, as if he +were paying for the libertinism of his youth by premature decrepitude. +His countenance announced pretensions to ability; his easy and affable +address, and the facility with which he expressed himself, gained him +credit at first for much more understanding than he really possessed. +There was a plausibility in all he said; but, if it were examined, +there was nothing in it but nonsense. Some of his expressions appeared +brilliant; some of his sentiments just; but there was a want of +consistency, a want of a pervading mind in his conversation, which to +good judges betrayed the truth, that all his opinions were adopted, not +formed; all his maxims commonplace; his wit mere repetition; his sense +merely _tact_. After proper thanks and compliments to Lady Mary and +Mr. Vivian, for securing for him such a treasure as Mr. Russell, he +introduced Lord Lidhurst, a sickly, bashful boy of fourteen, to his new +governor, with polite expressions of unbounded confidence, and a rapid +enunciation of undefined and contradictory expectations. + +“Mr. Russell will, I am perfectly persuaded, make Lidhurst every +thing we can desire,” said his lordship; “an honour to his country, +an ornament to his family. It is my decided opinion that man is but +a bundle of habits; and it’s my maxim, that education is _second_ +nature--_first_, indeed, in many cases. For, except that I am staggered +about original genius, I own I conceive with Hartley, that early +impressions and associations are all in all: his vibrations and +vibratiuncles are quite satisfactory. But what I particularly wish for +Lidhurst, sir, is, that he should be trained as soon as possible into a +statesman. Mr. Vivian, I presume you mean to follow up public business, +and no doubt will make a figure. So I prophesy; and I am used to these +things. And from Lidhurst, too, under similar tuition, I may with reason +expect miracles--‘hope to hear him thundering in the house of commons in +a few years--‘confess ‘am not quite so impatient to have the young dog +in the house of incurables; for you know he could not be there without +being in my shoes, which I have not done with yet--ha! ha! ha!----Each +in his turn, my boy! In the mean time, Lady Mary, shall we join the +ladies yonder, on the terrace? Lady Glistonbury walks so slow, that she +will be seven hours in coming to us; so we had best go to her ladyship: +if the mountain won’t go to Mahomet--you know, of course, what follows.” + +On their way to the terrace, Lord Glistonbury, who always heard +himself speak with singular complacency, continued to give his ideas on +education; sometimes appealing to Mr. Russell, sometimes happy to catch +the eye of Lady Mary. + +“Now, my idea for Lidhurst is simply this:--that he should know every +thing that is in all the best books in the library, but yet that he +should be the farthest possible from a book-worm--that he should never, +except in a set speech in the house, have the air of having opened a +book in his life--mother-wit for me!--in most cases--and that easy style +of originality, which shows the true gentleman. As to morals--Lidhurst, +walk on, my boy--as to morals, I confess I couldn’t bear to see any +thing of the Joseph Surface about him. A youth of spirit must, you know, +Mr. Vivian--excuse me, Lady Mary, this is--_an aside_--be something of a +latitudinarian to keep in the fashion: not that I mean to say so exactly +to Lidhurst--no, no--on the contrary, Mr. Russell, it is our cue, as +well as this reverend gentleman’s,” looking back at the chaplain, who +bowed assent before he knew to what, “it is our cue, as well as this +reverend gentleman’s, to preach prudence, and temperance, and all the +cardinal virtues.” + +“_Cardinal_ virtues! very good, faith! my lord,” said the lawyer, +looking at the clergyman. + +“_Temperance!_” repeated the chaplain, winking at the officer; “upon my +soul, my lord, that’s too bad.” + +“_Prudence!_” repeated the captain; “that’s too clean a cut at poor +Wicksted, my lord.” + +Before his lordship had time to preach any more prudence, they arrived +within bowing distance of the ladies, who had, indeed, advanced at a +very slow rate. Vivian was not acquainted with any of the ladies of the +Glistonbury family; for they had, till this summer, resided at another +of their country seats, in a distant county. His mother had often met +them at parties in town. + +Lady Glistonbury was a thin, stiffened, flattened figure--she was +accompanied by two other female forms, one old, the other young; not +each a different grace, but alike all three in angularity, and in a cold +haughtiness of mien. After reconnoitring with their glasses the party +of gentlemen, these ladies quickened their step; and Lady Glistonbury, +making her countenance as affable as it was in its nature to be, +exclaimed, “My dear Lady Mary Vivian! have I the pleasure to see your +ladyship?--They told me it was only visitors to my lord.” + +Mr. Vivian had then the honour of being introduced to her ladyship, to +her eldest daughter, Lady Sarah Lidhurst, and to Miss Strictland, the +governess. By all of these ladies he was most graciously received; +but poor Russell was not so fortunate; nothing could be more cold and +repulsive than their reception of him. This did not make Lady Sarah +appear very agreeable to Vivian; he thought her, at this first view, one +of the least attractive young women he had ever beheld. + +“Where is my Julia?” inquired Lord Glistonbury. “Ah! there she goes +yonder, all life and spirits.” + +Vivian looked as his lordship directed his eye, and saw, at the farthest +end of the terrace, a young girl of about fifteen, running very fast, +with a hoop, which she was keeping up with great dexterity for the +amusement of a little boy who was with her. The governess no sooner saw +this than she went in pursuit of her young ladyship, calling after her, +in various tones and phrases of reprehension, in French, Italian, and +English; and asking whether this was a becoming employment for a young +lady of her age and rank. Heedless of these reproaches, Lady Julia still +ran on, away from her governess, “to chase the rolling circle’s speed,” + down the slope of the terrace; thither Miss Strictland dared not pursue, +but contented herself with standing on the brink, reiterating her +remonstrances. At length the hoop fell, and the young lady returned, not +to her governess, but, running lightly up the slope of the terrace, to +her surprise, she came full in view of the company before she was aware +that any strangers were there. Her straw hat being at the back of her +head, Lady Glistonbury, with an indignant look, pulled it forwards. + +“What a beautiful colour! what a sweet countenance Lady Julia has!” + whispered Lady Mary Vivian to Lord Glistonbury: at the same time she +could not refrain from glancing her eyes towards her son, to see what +effect was produced upon him. Vivian’s eyes met hers; and this single +look of his mother’s revealed to him all that she had, in her great +prudence, resolved to conceal. He smiled at her, and then at Russell, as +much as to say, “Surely there can be no comparison between such a child +as this and Selina Sidney!” + +A few minutes afterwards, in consequence of a sign from Lady +Glistonbury, Julia disappeared with her governess; and the moment was +unnoticed by Vivian, who was then, as his mother observed, looking up at +one of the turrets of the old castle. All its inhabitants were at this +time uninteresting to him, except so far as they regarded his friend +Russell; but the castle itself absorbed his attention. Lord Glistonbury, +charmed to see how he was struck by it, offered to show him over every +part of the edifice; an offer which he and Lady Mary gladly accepted. +Lady Glistonbury excused herself, professing to be unable to sustain +the fatigue: she deputed her eldest daughter to attend Lady Mary in her +stead; and this was the only circumstance which diminished the pleasure +to Vivian, for he was obliged to show due courtesy to this stiff +taciturn damsel at every turn, whilst he was intent upon seeing the +architecture of the castle, and the views from the windows of the towers +and loop-holes of the galleries; all which Lady Sarah pointed out with a +cold, ceremonious civility, and a formal exactness of proceeding, which +enraged Vivian’s enthusiastic temper. The visit ended: he railed half +the time he was going home against their fair, or, as he called her, +their petrified guide; then, full of the Gothic beauties of Glistonbury, +he determined, as soon as possible, to turn his own modern house into +a castle. The very next morning he had an architect to view it, and to +examine its capabilities. It happened that, about this time, several of +the noblemen and gentry, in the county in which Vivian resided, had been +seized with this rage for turning comfortable houses into uninhabitable +castles. And, however perverse or impracticable this retrograde movement +in architecture might seem, there were always at hand professional +projectors, to convince gentlemen that nothing was so feasible. Provided +always that gentlemen approve their estimates as well as their plans, +they undertake to carry buildings back, in a trice, two, or three, +or half a dozen centuries, as may be required, to make them Gothic or +Saracenic, and to “add every grace that time alone can give.” A few days +after Vivian had been at Glistonbury Castle, when Lord Glistonbury came +to return the visit, Russell, who accompanied his lordship, found his +friend encompassed with plans and elevations. + +“Surely, my dear Vivian,” said he, seizing the first moment he could +speak to him, “you are not going to spoil this excellent house? It +is completely finished, in handsome modern architecture, perfectly +comfortable and convenient, light, airy, large enough, warm rooms, well +distributed, with ample means of getting at each apartment; and if you +set about to new-model and transform it into a castle, you must, I see, +by your plan, alter the proportions of almost every room, and spoil the +comfort of the whole; turn square to round, and round again to square; +and, worse than all, turn light to darkness--only for the sake of having +what is called a castle, but what has not, in fact, any thing of the +grandeur or solid magnificence of a real ancient edifice. These modern +baby-house miniatures of castles, which gentlemen ruin themselves to +build, are, after all, the most paltry, absurd things imaginable.” + +To this Vivian was, after some dispute, forced to agree; but he said, +“that his should not be a baby-house; that he would go to any expense to +make it really magnificent.” + +“As magnificent, I suppose, as Glistonbury Castle?” + +“If possible:--that is, I confess, the object of my emulation.” + +“Ah!” said Russell, shaking his head, “these are the objects of +emulation, for which country gentlemen often ruin themselves; barter +their independence and real respectability; reduce themselves to +distress and disgrace: these are the objects for which they sell either +their estates or their country; become placemen or beggars; and end +either in the liberties of the King’s Bench, or the slaveries of St. +James’s.” + +“Impossible for me! you know my public principles,” said Vivian: “and +you know that I think the life of an independent country gentleman the +most respectable of all others--you know my principles.” + +“I know your facility,” said Russell: “if you begin by sacrificing thus +to your taste, do you think you will not end by sacrificing to your +interest?” + +“Never! never!” cried Vivian. + +“Then you imagine that a strong temptation will not act where a weak one +has been found irresistible.” + +“Of this I am certain,” said Vivian: “I could never be brought to sell +my country, or to forfeit my honour.” + +“Perhaps not,” said Russell: “you might, in your utmost need, have +another alternative; you might forfeit your love; you might give up +Selina Sidney, and marry for money--all for the sake of a castle!” + +Struck by this speech, Vivian exclaimed, “I would give up a thousand +castles rather than run such a hazard!” + +“Let us then coolly calculate,” said Russell. “What would the castle +cost you?” + +The expense, even by the estimates of the architects, which, in +the execution, are usually doubled, was enormous, such as Vivian +acknowledged was unsuited even to his ample fortune. His fortune, though +considerable, was so entailed, that he would, if he exceeded his income, +be soon reduced to difficulties for ready money. But then his mother +had several thousands in the stocks, which she was ready to lend him to +forward this castle-building. It was a project which pleased her taste, +and gratified her aristocratic notions. + +Vivian assured his friend at parting, that his reason was convinced: +that he would not yield to the whims of taste, and that he would +prudently give up his folly. So he determined; and he abided by his +determination till he heard numbers speak on the other side of the +question. With Vivian, those who spoke last frequently seemed to speak +best; and, in general, the number of voices overpowered the weight +of argument. By the persuasions of his mother, the example of his +neighbours, and the urgency of architects and men of taste who got about +him soon afterwards, he was convinced that there was no living without +a castle, and that the expense would be _next to nothing at all. +Convinced_, we should not say; for he yielded, against his conviction, +from mere want of power to resist reiterated solicitations. He had +no other motive; for the enthusiasm raised by the view of Glistonbury +Castle had passed away: he plainly saw, what Russell had pointed out to +him, that he should spoil the inside of his house for the sake of the +outside; and, for his own part, he preferred comfort to show. It was +not, therefore, to please his own taste that he ran into this imprudent +expense, but merely to gratify the taste of others. + +Now the bustle of building began, and workmen swarmed round his house; +the foundations sank, the scaffolds rose; and many times did Vivian sigh +and repent, when he saw how much was to be undone before any thing could +be done; when he found his house dismantled, saw the good ceilings +and elegant cornices knocked to pieces, saw the light domes and modern +sashes give way; all taken out to be replaced, at profuse expense, by a +clumsy imitation of Gothic; how often did be sigh and calculate, when he +saw the tribes of workmen file off as their dinner bell rang! how often +did he bless himself, when he beheld the huge beams of timber dragged +into his yards, and the solid masses of stone brought from a quarry at +an enormous distance!--Vivian perceived that the expense would be treble +the estimate; and said, that if the thing were to be done again, he +would never consent to it; but now, as Lady Mary observed, it was too +late to repent; and it was, at any rate, best to go on and finish it +with spirit--since it was impossible (nobody knew why) to stop. He +hurried on the workmen with impatience; for he was anxious to have the +roof and some apartments in his castle finished before his marriage. The +dilatoriness of the lawyers, and the want of the trustee, who had not +yet arrived in England, were no longer complained of so grievously by +the lover. Russell, one day, as he saw Vivian overlooking his workmen, +and urging them to expedition, smiled, and asked whether the impatience +of an architect or of a lover was now predominant in his mind. Vivian, +rather offended by the question, replied, that his eagerness to finish +this part of his castle arose from his desire to give an agreeable +surprise to his bride; and he declared that his passion for Selina +was as ardent, at this moment, as it had ever been; but that it was +impossible to make lawyers move faster than their accustomed pace; +and that Miss Sidney was too secure of his affection, and he too well +convinced of hers, to feel that sort of anxiety, which persons who had +less confidence in each other might experience in similar circumstances. +This was all very true, and very reasonable; but Russell could not help +perceiving that Vivian’s language and tone were somewhat altered since +the time when he was ready to brave heaven and earth to marry his +mistress, without license or consent of friends, without the possibility +of waiting a few months till he was of age. In fact, though Vivian would +not allow it, this consent of friends, this ceasing of opposition, this +security and tranquillity of happiness, had considerably changed the +appearance, at least, of his love. Lady Mary perceived it, with a +resolution to say nothing, and see how it would end. Selina did not +perceive it for some time; for she was of a most unsuspicious temper; +and her confidence in Vivian was equal to the fondness of her love. She +began to think, indeed, that the lawyers were provokingly slow; and when +Vivian did not blame them as much as he used to do, she only thought +that he understood business better than she did--besides, the necessary +trustee was not come--and, in short, the last thing that occurred to her +mind was to blame Vivian. + +The trustee at length arrived, and the castle was almost in the +wished-for state of forwardness, when a new cause of delay arose--a +county election: but how this election was brought on, and how it was +conducted, it is necessary to record. It happened that a relation of +Vivian’s was appointed to a new seventy-four gun ship, of which he came +to take the command at Yarmouth, which was within a few miles of him. +Vivian recollected that Russell had often expressed a desire to go on +board a man-of-war. Vivian, therefore, after having appointed a day +for their going, went to Glistonbury to invite Russell: his pupil, Lord +Lidhurst, begged to be permitted to accompany them: and Lady Julia, +the moment she heard of this new seventy-four gun ship, was, as her +governess expressed it, wild to be of the party. Indeed, any thing +that had the name of a party of pleasure, and that promised a transient +relief from the tedious monotony in which her days passed; any thing +that gave a chance of even a few hours’ release from the bondage +in which she was held between the restraints of the most rigid of +governesses and the proudest of mothers, appeared delightful to this +lively and childish girl. She persecuted her governess with entreaties, +till at last she made Miss Strictland go with her petition to Lady +Glistonbury; whilst, in the mean time, Lady Julia overwhelmed her father +with caresses, till he consented; and with much difficulty, prevailed +upon Lady Glistonbury to give her permission for the young ladies to go +with their governess, their brother, their father, and Lady Mary Vivian, +on this excursion. The invitation was now extended to all the company +then at the castle; including the representative of the county, who, +being just threatened with a fit of the gout, brought on by hard +drinking at the last election, expressed some reluctance to going with +this party on the water. But this gentleman was now paying his humble +devoirs to the Lady Sarah Lidhurst; and it was represented to him, by +all who understood the ground, that he would give mortal offence if he +did not go; so it was ruled, that, hot or cold, gout or no gout, he +must appear in the Lady Sarah’s train: he submitted to this perilous +necessity in the most gallant manner. The day proved tolerably +fine--Vivian had an elegant entertainment provided for the +company, under a marquee pitched on the shore--they _embarked_ in a +pleasure-boat--Lady Sarah was very sick, and her admirer very cold; but +Lady Julia was in extasies at every thing she saw and felt--she feared +nothing, found nothing inconvenient--was charmed to be drawn so easily +from the boat up the high side of the ship--charmed to find herself on +deck--charmed to see the sails, the ropes, the rigging, the waves, the +sea, the sun, the clouds, the sailors, the cook dressing dinner--all, +all indiscriminately charmed her; and, like a school-girl broke loose, +she ran about, wild with spirits, asking questions, some sensible, some +silly; laughing at her own folly, flying from this side to that, from +one end of the ship to the other, down the ladders and up again; whilst +Mr. Russell, who was deputed to take care of her, could scarcely keep +up with her: Lord Glistonbury stood by, holding his sides and laughing +aloud: Miss Strictland, quite disabled by the smell of the ship, was +lying on a bed in the state cabin; and Lady Sarah, all the time shaded +by an umbrella held by her shivering admirer, sat, as if chained upright +in her chair of state, upon deck, scorning her sister’s childish levity, +and proving herself, with all due propriety, incapable of being moved to +surprise or admiration by any object on land or sea. + +Lady Mary Vivian, while she observed with a quick eye all that passed, +and read her son’s thoughts, was fully persuaded that neither of the +Lady Lidhursts would be likely to suit his taste, even if his affections +were disengaged: the one was too childish, the other too stiff. “Yet +their birth and connexions, and their consequence in the county,” + thought Lady Mary, “would have made their alliance highly desirable.” + Every body seemed weary at the close of this day’s entertainment, except +Lady Julia, who _kept it up_ with indefatigable gaiety, and could hardly +believe that it was time to go home, when the boat was announced to row +them to shore: heedless, and absolutely dizzy with talking and laughing, +her ladyship, escaping from the assistance of sailors and gentlemen, +made a false step in getting into the boat, and, falling over, would +have sunk for ever, but for Mr. Russell’s presence of mind. He +seized her with a strong grasp, and saved her. The fright sobered her +completely; and she sat wrapped in great-coats, as silent, as tractable, +and as wet as possible, during the remainder of the way to shore. The +screams, the ejaculations, the reprimands from Miss Strictland; the +questions, the reflections, to which this incident led, may possibly be +conceived, but cannot be enumerated. + +This event, however alarming at the moment, had no serious consequence; +for Lady Julia caught neither fever nor cold, though Miss Strictland +was morally certain her ladyship would have one or the other; indeed she +insinuated, that her ladyship deserved to have both. Lady Sarah’s poor +shivering knight of the shire, however, did not escape so well. Obliged +to row home, in a damp evening, without his great-coat, which he had +been forced to offer to Lady Julia, in a pleasure-boat, when he should +have been in flannels or in bed, he had “cause to rue the boating of +that day.” His usual panacea of the gout did not come as expected, _to +set him up again_. The cold he caught this day killed him. Lady Sarah +Lidhurst was precisely as sorry as decorum required. But the bustle of a +new election was soon to obliterate the memory of the old member, in +the minds of his numerous friends. Lord Glistonbury, and several other +voices in the county, called upon Vivian to stand on the independent +interest. There was to be a contest: for a government candidate declared +himself at the same moment that application was made to Vivian. The +expense of a contested election alarmed both Vivian and his mother. +Gratified as she was by the honour of this offer, yet she had +the prudence to advise her son rather to go into parliament as +representative for a borough than to hazard the expense of a contest +for the county. Miss Sidney, also, whom he consulted upon this occasion, +supported his mother’s prudent advice, in the most earnest manner; and +Vivian was inclined to follow this counsel, till Lord Glistonbury came +one morning to plead the contrary side of the question: he assured +Vivian, that from his experience of the county, he was morally certain +they should carry it without trouble, and with no expense _worth +mentioning_. These were only general phrases, to be sure, not arguments; +but these, joined to her ambition to see her son member for the county, +at length overpowered Lady Mary’s better judgment: her urgent entreaties +were now joined to those of Lord Glistonbury, and of many loud-tongued +electioneerers, who proved to Vivian, by every thing but calculation, +that he must be returned if he would but stand--if he would only declare +himself. Russell and his own prudence strongly counselled him to resist +these clamorous importunities; the two preceding candidates, whose +fortunes had been nearly as good as his, had been ruined by the +contests. Vivian was very young, but just of age; and Russell observed, +“that it would be better for him to see something more of the world, +before he should embark in politics, and plunge into public business.” + “True,” said Vivian; “but Mr. Pitt was only three-and-twenty when he was +minister of England. I am not ambitious; but I should certainly like to +distinguish myself, if I could; and whilst I feel in youth the glow of +patriotism, why should I not serve my country?” + +“Serve it and welcome,” said Russell: “but don’t begin by ruining +yourself by a contested election; or else, whatever glow of patriotism +you may feel, it will be out of your power to be an honest member of +parliament. If you must go into parliament immediately for the good +of your country, go in as member for some borough, which will not ruin +you.” + +“But the committee of our friends will be so disappointed if I decline; +and my mother, who has now set her heart upon it, and Lord Glistonbury, +and Mr. C----, and Mr. G----, and Mr. D----, who are such zealous +friends, and who urge me so much----” + +“Judge for yourself,” said Russell, “and don’t let any persons who +happen to be near you persuade you to see with their eyes, and decide +with their wishes. Zealous friends, indeed!--because they love to +make themselves of consequence, by bawling and scampering about at an +election!--And you would let such people draw you on, to ruin yourself.” + +“I will show you that they shall not,” cried Vivian, seizing a sheet +of paper, and sitting down immediately to write the copy of a circular +letter to his friends, informing them, with many thanks, that he +declined to stand for the county. Russell eagerly wrote copies of this +letter, which Vivian declared should be sent early the next morning. +But no sooner was Russell out of sight than Lady Mary Vivian resumed her +arguments in favour of commencing his canvass immediately, and before +his friends should cool. When she saw the letters that he had been +writing, she was excessively indignant; and, by a torrent of female and +maternal eloquence, he was absolutely overwhelmed. Auxiliaries poured +in to her ladyship on all sides; horsemen after horsemen, freeholders +of all degrees, now flocked to the house, hearing that Mr. Vivian had +thoughts of standing for the county. They were unanimously loud in their +assurances of success. Old and new copies of poll books were produced, +and the different interests of the county counted and recounted, +balanced and counterbalanced, again and again, by each person, after his +own fashion: and it was proved to Mr. Vivian, _in black and white, and +as plain as figures could make it_, that he had the game in his own +hands; and that, if he would but declare himself, the other candidate +would, the very next day, they would be bound for it, decline the +contest. Vivian had a clear head, and a competent knowledge of +arithmetic; he saw the fallacies and inaccuracies in their modes of +computation; he saw, upon examining the books, that the state of +the county interests was very different from what they pretended or +believed; and he was convinced that the opposite candidate would not +decline: but after Vivian had stated these reasons ten times, and his +mother and his electioneering partisans had reiterated their assertions +twenty times, he yielded, merely because they had said twice as much +as he had, and because, poor easy man! he had not power to resist +continuity of solicitation. + +He declared himself candidate for the county; and was soon immersed in +all the toil, trouble, vexation, and expense, of a contested election. +Of course, his marriage was now to be postponed till the election should +be over. Love and county politics have little affinity. What the evils +of a contested election are can be fully known only to those by whom +they have been personally experienced. The contest was bitter. The +Glistonbury interest was the strongest which supported Vivian: Lord +Glistonbury and _his lordship’s friends_ were warm in his cause. Not +that they had any particular regard for Vivian; but he was to be _their +member_, opposed to the court candidate, whom his lordship was anxious +to keep out of the county. Lord Glistonbury had once been a strong +friend to government, and was thought a confirmed courtier, especially +as he had been brought up in high aristocratic notions; but he had +made it his great object to turn his earldom into a marquisate; and +government having delayed or refused to gratify him in this point, +he quitted them with disgust, and set up his standard amongst the +opposition. He was now loud and zealous on every occasion that could, +as he said, _annoy_ government; and merely because he could not be a +marquis, he became a patriot. Mistaken, abused name! how glorious in +its original, how despicable in its debased signification!--Lord +Glistonbury’s exertions were indefatigable. + +Vivian felt much gratitude for this apparently disinterested friendship; +and, during a few weeks, whilst this canvass was going on, he formed +a degree of intimacy with the Glistonbury family, which, in any other +circumstances, could scarcely have been brought about during months +or years. An election, in England, seems, for the time, to level all +distinctions, not only of rank, but even of pride: Lady Glistonbury +herself, at this season, found it necessary to relax from her usual +rigidity.--There was an extraordinary freedom of egress and regress; and +the haughty code of Glistonbury lay dormant. Vivian, of course, was the +centre of all interest; and, whenever he appeared, every individual of +the family was eager to inquire, “What news?--What news?--How do things +go on to-day?--How will the election turn out?--Have you written to Mr. +Such-a-one?--Have you been to Mr. Such-a-one’s?--I’ll write a note for +you--I’ll copy a letter.”--There was one common cause--Miss Strictland +even deigned to assist Mr. Vivian, and to try her awkward hand to +forward his canvass, for it was to support the Glistonbury interest; and +“there was no impropriety could attach to the thing.” Russell’s extreme +anxiety made Vivian call more frequently even than it was necessary at +the castle, to quiet his apprehensions, and to assure him that things +were going on well. Young Lord Lidhurst, who was really good-natured, +and over whose mind Russell began to gain some ascendancy, used to stand +upon the watch for Vivian’s appearance, and would run up the back stairs +to Russell’s apartment, to give him notice of it, and to be the first +to tell the news. Lady Sarah--the icy lady Sarah herself--began to +thaw; and every day, in the same phrase, she condescended to say to +Mr. Vivian, that she “hoped the poll was going on as well as could be +expected.” It was, of course, reported, that Vivian was to succeed the +late representative of the county in all its honours. In eight days he +was confidently given to Lady Sarah by the generous public; and the day +of their nuptials was positively fixed. As the lady was, even by the +account of her friends, two or three years older than Mr. Vivian, +and four or five years older by her looks, and as she was peculiarly +unsuited to his taste, he heard the report without the slightest +apprehension for his own constancy to Selina. He laughed at the idea, as +an excellent joke, when it was first mentioned to him by Russell. Lord +Glistonbury’s manners, however, and the cordial familiarity with which +he treated Vivian, gave every day increasing credit to the report. “If +he were his son, my lord could not be more anxious about Mr. Vivian,” + said one of the plain-spoken freeholders, in the presence of the Lady +Lidhursts.--Lady Sarah pursed up her mouth, and threw back her head; but +Lady Julia, archly looking at her sister, smiled. The vivacity of Lady +Julia’s manner did not appear excessive during this election time, when +all the world seemed mad; on the contrary, there was, in her utmost +freedom and raillery, that air of good-breeding and politeness, in which +vulgar mirth and liberty are always deficient. Vivian began to think +that she was become less childish, and that there was something of +a mixture of womanish timidity in her appearance, which rendered her +infinitely more attractive. One evening, in particular, when her father +having sent her for her morning’s work, she returned with a basket full +of _the Vivian cockade_, which she had made with her own delicate hands, +Vivian thought she looked “very pretty:” her father desired her to give +them to the person for whom they were intended, and she presented them +to Mr. Russell, saying, “They are for your friend, sir.”--Vivian thought +she looked “very graceful.”--Lady Mary Vivian suppressed half a sigh, +and thought she kept the whole of her mind to herself. These happy days +of canvassing, and this _freedom of election_, could not last for ever. +After polling the county to the last freeholder, the contest was at +length decided, and Vivian was declared duly elected. He was chaired, +and he scattered money with a lavish hand, as he passed over the heads +of the huzzaing populace; and he had all the honours of an election: the +horses were taken from his carriage, and he was drawn by men, who were +soon afterwards so much intoxicated, that they retained no vestige of +rationality. Not only the inferior, but the superior rank of electors, +as usual upon such occasions, thought proper to do honour to their +choice, and to their powers of judgment, by drinking their member’s +health at the expense of their own, till they could neither see, hear, +nor understand. Our hero was not by any means fond of drinking, but he +could not refuse to do as others did; and Lord Glistonbury swore, that +now he had found out that Vivian could be such a pleasant companion over +a bottle, he should never listen to his excuses in future. + +A few days after this election, parliament met for the dispatch of +business; and as some important question was to come on, all the members +were summoned, by a peremptory call of the house. Vivian was obliged +to go to town immediately, and compelled to defer his marriage. He +regretted being thus hurried away from Selina; and with a thousand +tender and passionate expressions, assured her, that the moment his +attendance on public business could be spared, he should hasten to the +country to claim his promised happiness. The castle would be finished +by the time the session was over; the lawyers would also have completed +their settlements; and Vivian said he should make every other necessary +preparation whilst he was in town: therefore he urged Selina now to +fix the time for their marriage, and to let it be the first week of the +recess of parliament. But Miss Sidney, who had great delicacy of feeling +and dignity of character, thought that Vivian had of late shown some +symptoms of decreased affection, and that he had betrayed signs of +unsteadiness of character. In the whole affair of the castle-building +and of the election, he had evidently been led by others instead of +following his own conviction:--she wisely dreaded that he might, in more +important actions, yield his judgment to others; and then what security +could she have for his principles? He might, perhaps, be led into all +sorts of fashionable dissipation and vice. Besides these fears, she +considered that Vivian was the possessor of a large fortune; that his +mother had with difficulty consented to this match; that he was very +young, had seen but little of the world, and might, perhaps, in future, +repent of having made, thus early in life, a _love match_. She therefore +absolutely refused to let him now bind himself to her by any fresh +promises. She desired that he should consider himself as perfectly +at liberty, and released from all engagement to her. It was evident, +however, from the manner in which she spoke that she wished to restore +her lover’s liberty for his sake only; and that her own feelings, +however they might be suppressed, were unchanged. Vivian was touched and +charmed by her delicacy and generosity: in the fervour of his feelings +he swore that his affections could never change; and he believed what he +swore. Lady Mary Vivian was struck, also, with Miss Sidney’s conduct +at parting; and she acknowledged that it was impossible to show at once +more tenderness and dignity. No one, however, not even Vivian, knew how +much pain this separation gave Selina. Her good sense and prudence told +her indeed, that it was best, both for her happiness and Vivian’s, that +he should see something more of the world, and that she should have some +farther proof of the steadiness of his attachment, before she should +unite herself with him irrevocably: but whilst she endeavoured to +fortify her mind with these reflections, love inspired many painful +fears; and, though she never repented having set him free from his +promises and engagements, she trembled for the consequences of his being +thus at liberty, in such scenes of temptation as a London life would +present. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +When our hero arrived in London, and when he was first introduced into +fashionable society, his thoughts were so intent upon Selina Sidney, +that he was in no danger of plunging into dissipation. He was surprised +at the eagerness with which some young men pursued frivolous pleasures: +he was still more astonished at seeing the apathy in which others of his +own age were sunk, and the listless insignificance in which they lounged +away their lives. + +The call of the house, which brought Vivian to town, brought Lord +Glistonbury also to attend his duty in the house of peers: with his +lordship’s family came Mr. Russell, whom Vivian went to see, as soon and +as often as he could. Russell heard, with satisfaction, the indignant +eloquence with which his friend spoke; and only wished that these +sentiments might last, and that fashion might never lead him to imitate +or to tolerate fools, whom he now despised. + +“In the mean time, tell me how you go on yourself,” said Vivian; “how +do you like your situation here, and your pupil, and all the Glistonbury +family? Let me behind the scenes at once; for, you know, I see them only +on the stage.” + +Russell replied, in general terms, that he had hopes Lord Lidhurst would +turn out well, and that therefore he was satisfied with his situation; +but avoided entering into particulars, because he was a confidential +person in the family. He thought that a preceptor and a physician +were, in some respects, bound, by a similar species of honour, to speak +cautiously of the maladies of their patients, or the faults of their +pupils. Admitted into the secrets of families, they should never make +use of the confidence reposed in them, to the disadvantage of any by +whom they are trusted. Russell’s strictly honourable reserve upon this +occasion was rather provoking to Vivian, who, to all his questions, +could obtain only the dry answer of--“Judge for yourself.”--The nature +of a town life, and the sort of intercourse which capital cities afford, +put this very little in Vivian’s power. The obligations he was under to +Lord Glistonbury for assistance at the election made him anxious to show +his lordship respect and attention; and the sort of intimacy which that +election had brought on was, to a certain degree, kept up in town. Lady +Mary Vivian was constantly one at Lady Glistonbury’s card parties; +and Vivian was frequently at his lordship’s dinners. Considering +the coldness and formality of Lady Glistonbury’s manners, she was +particularly attentive to Lady Mary Vivian; and our hero was continually +an attendant upon the ladies of the Glistonbury family to all public +places. This was by no means disagreeable to him, as they were persons +of _high consideration_; and they were sure of drawing into their circle +the very best company. Lady Mary Vivian observed that it was a great +advantage to her son to have such a house as Lord Glistonbury’s open to +him, to go to whenever he pleased. Besides the advantage to his morals, +her ladyship was by no means insensible to the gratification her pride +received from her son’s living in such high company. The report which +had been raised in the country during the election, that Mr. Vivian was +going to be married to Lady Sarah Lidhurst, now began to circulate +in town. This was not surprising, since a young man in London, of any +fortune or notoriety, can hardly dance three or four times successively +with the same young lady, cannot even sit beside her, and converse with +her in public half a dozen times, without its being reported that he +is going to be married to her. Of this, Vivian, during his noviciate in +town, was not perhaps sufficiently aware: he was soon surprised at being +asked, by almost every one he met, when his marriage with Lady Sarah +Lidhurst was to take place. At first he contented himself with laughing +at these questions, and declaring that there was no truth in the report: +but his asseverations were not to be believed; they were attributed to +motives of discretion: he was told by his companions, that he kept his +own counsel very well; but they all knew _the thing was to be_: he was +congratulated upon his good fortune in making such an excellent match; +for though, as they said, he would have but little money with Lady +Sarah, yet the connexion was so great, that he was the luckiest fellow +upon earth. The degree of importance which the report gave him among +the young men of his acquaintance, and the envy he excited, amused +and gratified his vanity. The sort of conversation he was now in the +constant habit of hearing, both from young and old, in all companies, +about the marriages of people in the fashionable world, where fortune, +and rank, and _connexion_, were always the first things spoken of or +considered, began insensibly to influence Vivian’s mode of speaking, if +not of judging. Before he mixed in this society, he knew perfectly +well that these were the principles by which _people of the world_ are +guided; but whilst he had believed this only on hearsay, it had not +appeared to him so entirely true and so important as when he saw and +heard it himself. The effect of the opinions of a set of fine people, +now he was actually in their society, and whilst all other society +was excluded from his perception, was very different from what he had +imagined it might be, when he was in the country or at college. To do +our hero justice, however, he was sensible of this _aberration_ in his +own mind, he had sense enough to perceive from what causes it arose, and +steadiness sufficient to adhere to the judgements he had previously and +deliberately formed. He did not in material points change his opinion of +his mistress; he thought her far, far superior to all he saw and heard +amongst the belles who were most admired in the fashionable world; but, +at the same time, he began to agree with his mother’s former wish, that +Selina, added to all other merits, had the advantage of high birth +and connexions, or at least, of belonging to a certain class of high +company. He determined that, as soon as she should be his wife, he would +have her introduced to the very _first society_ in town: he pleased +his imagination with anticipating the change that would be made in +her appearance, by the addition of certain elegancies of the mode: +he delighted in thinking of the sensation she would produce, and the +respect that would be paid to her as Mrs. Vivian, surrounded as he would +take care that she should be, with all those external signs of wealth +and fashion, which command immediate and universal homage from the great +and little world. + +One day, when Vivian was absorbed in these pleasing reveries, Russell +startled him with this question: “When are you to be married to Lady +Sarah Lidhurst?” + +“From you such a question!” said Vivian. + +“Why not from me? It is a question that every body asks of me, because +I am your intimate friend; and I should really be obliged to you, if +you would furnish me with an answer, that may give me an air of a little +more consequence than that which I have at present, being forced to +answer, ‘I don’t know.’” + +“You don’t know! but why do not you answer, ‘Never!’ as I do,” said +Vivian, “to all the fools who ask me the same question?” + +“Because they say that is your answer, and only _a come off_.” + +“I can’t help it--Is it my fault if they won’t believe the truth?” + +“Why, people are apt to trust to appearances in these cases; and if +appearances are contrary to your assertions, you should not wonder that +you are not believed.” + +“Well, time will show them their mistake!” said Vivian.--“But I don’t +know what appearances you mean.--What appearances are against me?--I +never in my life saw a woman I was less disposed to like--whom it would +be more impossible for me to love--than Lady Sarah Lidhurst; and I am +sure I never gave her, or any of her family, the least reason to imagine +I had a thought of her.” + +“Very likely; yet you are at Lord Glistonbury’s continually, and you +attend her ladyship to all public places. Is this the way, do you think, +to put a stop to the report that has been raised?” + +“I care not whether it stops or goes on,” said Vivian.--“How!--Don’t I +know it is false?--That’s enough for me.” + +“It may embarrass you yet,” said Russell. + +“Good Heavens!--Can you, who know me so well, Russell, fancy me so weak +as to be embarrassed by such a report? Look--I would rather put this +hand into that fire and let it be burned off, than offer it to Lady +Sarah Lidhurst.” + +“Very likely.--I don’t doubt you think so,” said Russell. + +“And I would do so,” said Vivian. + +“Possibly.--Yet you might be embarrassed nevertheless, if you found that +you had raised expectations which you could not fulfil; and if you found +yourself accused of having jilted this lady, if all her friends were to +say you had used her very ill.--I know your nature, Vivian; these things +would disquiet you very much: and is it not better to prevent them?” + +“But neither Lady Sarah nor her friends blame me: I see no signs in the +family of any of the thoughts or feelings you suppose.” + +“Ladies--especially young and fashionable ladies--do not always show +their thoughts or feelings,” said Russell. + +“Lady Sarah Lidhurst has no thoughts or feelings,” said Vivian, “any +more than an automaton. I’ll answer for her--I am sure I can do her the +justice to proclaim, that she has always, from the first moment I +saw her till this instant, conducted herself towards me with the same +petrified and petrifying propriety.” + +“I do not know what _petrified propriety_ exactly means,” said Russell: +“but let it mean what it may, it is nothing to the present purpose; +for the question is not about the propriety of Lady Sarah Lidhurst’s +conduct, but of yours. Now, allowing you to call her ladyship a +petrifaction, or an automaton, or by whatever other name you please, +still, I apprehend, that she is in reality a human creature, and a +woman; and I conceive it is the duty of a man of honour or honesty not +to deceive her.” + +“I would not deceive her, or any woman living, upon any account,” said +Vivian. “But how is it possible I can deceive her, when I tell you I +never said a word about love or gallantry, or any thing like it, to her +in my life?” + +“But you know language is conventional, especially in gallantry,” said +Russell. + +“True; but I’ll swear the language of my looks has been unequivocal, if +that is what you mean.” + +“Not exactly: there are certain signs by which the world JUDGES in these +cases--if a gentleman is seen often with the same lady in public.” + +“Absurd, troublesome, ridiculous signs, which would put a stop to all +society; which would prevent a man from conversing with a woman, +either in public or private; and must absolutely preclude one sex from +obtaining any real knowledge of the characters and dispositions of the +other.” + +“I admit all you say--I feel the truth of it--I wish this were changed +in society; it is a great inconvenience, a real evil,” said Russell: +“but an individual cannot alter a custom; and, as you have not, by +your own account, any particular interest in becoming more intimately +acquainted with the character and disposition of Lady Sarah Lidhurst, +you will do well not to expose yourself to any inconvenience on her +account, by neglecting common received forms and opinions.” + +“Well! well!--say no more about it,” said Vivian, impatiently; “spare me +all farther logic and morality upon this subject, and I’ll do what you +please--only tell me what you would have me do.” + +“Gradually withdraw yourself for some time from this house, and the +report will die away of itself.” + +“Withdraw myself!--that would be very hard upon me!” cried Vivian; “for +this house is the most agreeable house in town to me;--because you live +in it, in the first place; and then, though the women are as stiff as +pokers, one is always sure of meeting all the pleasant and clever men +at Glistonbury’s good dinner. Let me tell you, good dinners, and good +company, and good conversation, and good music, make altogether a very +pleasant house, which I should be confoundedly sorry to be forced to +give up.” + +“I don’t doubt it,” said Russell; “but we must often give up more even +than this for the sake of acting with consistency and honour; we must +sacrifice the less to the greater good; and it is on these occasions +that people show strength or weakness of mind.” + +Vivian felt the justice of his friend’s observations--resolved to follow +his advice--and to withdraw himself gradually from the Glistonbury +circle. He had not, however, steadiness enough to persist in this +resolution; one engagement linked on another; and he would soon, +probably, have relapsed into his habit of being continually of their +parties, if accident had not for a time suspended this intimacy, by +leading him into another, which seemed to him still more attractive. + +Among the men of talents and political consequence whom he met at Lord +Glistonbury’s was Mr. Wharton, whose conversation particularly pleased +Vivian, and who now courted his acquaintance with an eagerness which was +peculiarly flattering. Vivian knew him only as a man of great abilities; +with his real character he was not acquainted. Wharton had prepossessing +manners, and wit sufficient whenever he pleased to make the worse appear +the better reason. In private or in public debate he had at his command, +and could condescend to employ, all sorts of arms, and every possible +mode of annoyance, from the most powerful artillery of logic to the +lowest squib of humour. He was as little nice in the company he kept as +in the style of his conversation. Frequently associating with fools, +and willing even to be thought one, he made alternately his sport +and advantage of the weakness and follies of mankind. Wharton was +philosophically, politically, and fashionably profligate. After +having ruined his private fortune by unbounded extravagance, he lived +on--nobody knew how--in careless profusion. In public life he made a +distinguished figure; and seemed, therefore, to think himself raised +above the necessity of practising any of the minor virtues of economy, +prudence, or justice, which common people find essential to their +well-being in society. Far from attempting to conceal, he gloried in +his faults; for he knew full well, that as long as he had the voice of +numbers with him, he could bully, or laugh, or shame plain reason and +rigid principle out of countenance. It was his grand art to represent +good sense as stupidity, and virtue as hypocrisy. Hypocrisy was, in his +opinion, the only vice which merited the brand of infamy; and from this +he took sufficient care to prove, or at least to proclaim, himself free. +Even whilst he offended against the decencies of life, there seemed +to be something frank and graceful in his manner of throwing aside all +disguise. There appeared an air of superior liberality in his avowing +himself to be governed by that absolute selfishness, which other men +strive to conceal even from their own hearts. He dexterously led his +acquaintance to infer that he would prove as much better than his +professions, as other people are often found to be worse than theirs. +Where he wished to please, it was scarcely possible to escape the +fascination of his manner; nor did he neglect any mode of courting +popularity. He knew that a good table is necessary to attract even men +of wit; and he made it a point to have the very best cook, and the very +best wines. He paid his cook, and his cook was the only person he did +pay, in ready money. His wine-merchant he paid in words--an art in which +he was a professed and yet a successful adept, as hundreds of living +witnesses were ready to attest. But though Wharton could cajole, he +could not attach his fellow-creatures--he had a party, but no friend. +With this distribution of things he was perfectly satisfied; for he +considered men only as beings who were to be worked to his purposes; and +he declared that, provided he had power over their interests and their +humours, he cared not what became of their hearts. It was his policy +to enlist young men of talents or fortune under his banners; and +consequently Vivian was an object worthy of his attention. Such was +the disorder of Wharton’s affairs, that either ready money or political +power was necessary to his existence. Our hero could, at the same time, +supply his extravagance and increase his consequence. Wharton thought +that he could borrow money from Vivian, and that he might command his +vote in parliament; but, to the accomplishment of these schemes, there +were two obstacles--Vivian was attached to an amiable woman, and was +possessed of an estimable friend. Wharton had become acquainted with +Russell at Lord Glistonbury’s; and, in many arguments which they had +held on public affairs, had discovered that Russell was not a man who +ever preferred the expedient to the right, nor one who could be bullied +or laughed out of his principles. He saw also that Russell’s influence +over Vivian was so great, that it supplied him with that strength of +mind in which Vivian was naturally deficient; and, if our hero should +marry such a woman as Miss Sidney, Wharton foresaw that he should have +no chance of succeeding in his designs; therefore his first objects +were, to detach Vivian from his friend Russell and from Selina. One +morning he called upon Vivian with a party of his friends, and found him +writing. + +“Poetry!” cried Wharton, carelessly looking at what he had, been +writing, “poetry, I protest!--Ay, I know this poor fellow’s in love; +and every man who is in love is a poet, ‘with a woeful ditty to his +mistress’s eyebrow.’ Pray what colour may Miss Sidney’s eyebrows +be?--she is really a pretty girl--I think I remember seeing her at some +races.--Why does she never come to town?--But of course she is not to +blame for that, but her fortune I suppose.--Marrying a girl without a +fortune is a serious thing in these expensive days; but you have fortune +enough for both yourself and your wife, so you may do as you please. +Well, I thank God, I have no fortune! If I had been a young man of +fortune I should have been the most unhappy rascal upon earth, for I +should have always suspected that every woman liked me for my wealth--I +should have had no pleasure in the smiles of an angel--angels, or their +mothers, are so venal now-a-days, and so fond of the pomps and vanities +of this wicked world!” + +“I hope,” said Vivian, laughing, “you don’t include the whole sex in +your satire.” + +“No--there are exceptions--and every man has his angel of an exception, +as every woman has her star:--it is well for weak women when these stars +of theirs don’t lead them astray; and well for weak men when these +angel exceptions before marriage don’t turn out very women or devils +afterwards. But why do I say all this? because I am a suspicious +scoundrel--I know and can’t help it. If other fellows of my standing in +this wicked world would but speak the truth, however, they would show +as much suspicion and more than I do. Bad as I am, and such as I am, +you see, and have the whole of me--nobody can say Wharton’s a hypocrite; +that’s some comfort. But, seriously, Vivian, I don’t mean to laugh at +love and angels--I can just remember the time when I felt all your +sort of romance--but that is in the preterpluperfect tense with +me--completely past--ambition is no bad cure for love. My head is, at +this present moment, so full of this new bill that we are bringing into +parliament, that Cupid might empty his quiver upon me in vain.--Look! +here is an impenetrable shield!” added he, wrapping round him a thick +printed copy of an act of parliament. “Come, Vivian, you must come along +with us to the house, + + ‘And, mix’d with men, a man you must appear.’” + +Vivian felt much ashamed of having been detected in writing a sonnet, +especially as it afforded Wharton such a fine subject for raillery. +He accompanied the party to the House of Commons, where Wharton made a +brilliant speech. It gained universal applause. Vivian sympathized in +the general enthusiasm of admiration for Wharton’s talents, accepted +an invitation to sup with him, and was charmed by his convivial powers. +From this day, he grew every hour more intimate with Wharton. + +“I can enjoy,” thought Vivian, “the pleasure of his society without +being influenced by his libertine example.” + +Lady Mary Vivian saw the rise and progress of this intimacy, and was +not insensible to its danger; yet she was gratified by seeing her son +distinguished by a man of Wharton’s political consequence; and she +satisfied her conscience by saying, “He will bring my son forward in +public life; and, as to the rest, Charles has too good principles ever +to follow his example in private life.” + +Wharton had too much address to alarm Vivian’s moral prejudices on +a first acquaintance. He contented himself with ridiculing only the +exaggeration of any of the virtues, still affecting to believe in +virtue, and to love it, wherever it could be found genuine. By the +success of his first petty attacks, he learned the power that ridicule +had over our hero’s mind; and he did not fail to make use of it +continually. After having, as he perceived, succeeded in making Vivian +ashamed of his sonnet to Selina, and of appearing as a romantic lover, +he doubted not but in time he should make _true_ love itself ridiculous; +and Wharton thought it was now the moment to hazard another stroke, and +to commence his attack against friendship. + +“Vivian, my good fellow! why do you let yourself be ruled by that modern +stoic in the form of Lord Lidhurst’s tutor? I never saw any of these +cold moralists who were real, warm-hearted, good friends. I have a +notion I see more of Russell’s play in the house where he has got than +he thinks I do; and I can form a shrewd guess why he was so zealous in +warning you of the report about Lady Sarah Lidhurst--he had his own +snug reasons for wanting you away--Oh, trust me for scenting out +self-interest, through all the doublings and windings of your cunning +moralist!” + +Reddening with indignation at this attack upon his friend, Vivian warmly +replied, that Mr. Wharton ought to restrain his wit where the feelings +of friendship and the character of a man of honour were concerned; that +he did not, in the least, comprehend his insinuations with regard to +Russell; but that, for his own part, he had such firm reliance upon +his friend’s attachment and integrity, that he was at any time ready to +pledge his own honour for Russell’s, and to answer for it with his life. + +“Spare your heroics, my dear Vivian!” cried Wharton, laughing; “for we +are not in the days of Pylades and Orestes;--yet, upon my soul, instead +of being as angry with you as you are with me, at this instant I like +you a thousand times the better for your enthusiastic credulity. For +my part, I have, ever since I lived in the world and put away childish +things, regretted that charming instinct of credulity, which experience +so fatally counteracts. I envy you, my dear boy!--as to the rest, you +know Russell’s merits better than I do: I’ll take him henceforward upon +trust from you.” + +“Thus Wharton, finding that he was upon dangerous ground, made a timely +retreat: the playful manner and open countenance with which he now +spoke, and the quick transition that he made to other subjects of +conversation, prevented Vivian from suspecting that any settled design +had been formed to detach him from Russell. From this time forward, +Wharton forbore raillery on love and friendship; and, far from seeming +desirous of interfering in Vivian’s private concerns, appeared quite +absorbed in politics. Avowing, as he did, that he was guided solely by +his interest in public life, he laughed at Vivian for professing more +generous principles. + +“I know,” cried Wharton, “how to make use of a fine word, and to round a +fine sentence, as well as the best of you; but what a simpleton he must +be who is cheated by his own sophistry!--An artist, an enthusiastic +artist, who is generally half a madman, might fall in love with a statue +of his own making; but you never heard of a coiner, did you, who was +cheated by his own bad shilling? Patriotism and loyalty are counterfeit +coin; I can’t be taken in by them at my time of day.” + +Vivian could not forbear to smile at the drollery and wit with which +this profligate defended his want of integrity; yet he sometimes +seriously and warmly asserted his own principles. Upon these occasions, +Wharton either overpowered him by a fine flow of words, or else +listened with the most flattering air of admiration, and silenced him by +compliments to his eloquence. Vivian thought that he was quite secure of +his own firmness; but the contagion of bad example sometimes affects +the mind imperceptibly; as certain noxious atmospheres steal upon the +senses, and excite the most agreeable sensations, while they secretly +destroy the principles of health and life. A day was fixed when a +question of importance was to come on in the House of Commons. Wharton +was extremely anxious to have Vivian’s vote. Vivian, according to the +parliamentary phrase, _had not made up his mind_ on the subject. A heap +of pamphlets on the question lay uncut upon his table. Every morning +he resolved to read them, that he might form his judgment, and vote +according to his unbiassed opinion; but every morning he was interrupted +by some of the fashionable idlers whom his facility of temper had +indulged in the habit of haunting him daily. “Oh, Vivian! we are going +to such and such a place, and you _must_ come with us!” was a mode of +persuasion which he could not resist. + +“If I don’t do as they do,” thought he, “I shall be quite unfashionable. +Russell may say what he pleases, but it is necessary to yield to one’s +companions in trifles. + + ‘Whoever would be pleased and please, + Must do what others do with ease.’” + +This couplet, which had been repeated to him by Wharton, recurred to him +continually; and thus Wharton, by slight means, in which he seemed to +have no interest or design, prepared Vivian for his purposes, by working +gradually on the easiness of his disposition. He always argued, that it +could not possibly signify what he did with an hour or two of his day, +till at last Vivian found that he had no hours of his own, that his +whole time was at the disposal of others; and now that he really wanted +leisure to consider an important question,--when his credit, as a member +of the senate, and as a man just entering political life, depended on +this decision,--he literally could not command time to read over the +necessary documents. So the appointed day arrived before Vivian’s +opinion was formed; and, from mere want of time to decide for himself, +he voted as Wharton desired. Another and another political question came +on; the same causes operated, and the same consequences ensued. Wharton +managed with great address, so as to prevent him from feeling that he +gave up his freewill. Before Vivian was aware of it, whilst he thought +that he was perfectly independent of all parties, public opinion had +enrolled him amongst Wharton’s partisans. Of this Russell was the first +to give him warning. Russell heard of it amongst the political leaders +who met at Lord Glistonbury’s dinners; and, knowing the danger there is +of a young man’s _committing_ himself on certain points, he, with the +eagerness of a true friend, wrote immediately to put Vivian upon his +guard:-- + +“My Dear Vivian, + +“I am just going into the country with Lord Lidhurst, and perhaps may +not return for some time. I cannot leave you without putting you on your +guard, once more, against Mr. Wharton. I understand that you are thought +to be one of his party, and that he countenances the report. Take care +that you are not bound hand and foot, before you know where you are. + +“Your sincere friend, + +“H. Russell.” + +With the natural frankness of his disposition, Vivian immediately spoke +to Wharton upon the subject. + +“What! people say that you are one of my party, do they?” said Wharton: +“I never heard this before, but I am heartily glad to hear it. You are +in for it now, Vivian: you are one of us; and with us you must stand or +fall.” + +“Excuse me there!” cried Vivian; “I am not of any party; and am +determined to keep myself independent.” + +“Do you remember the honest Quaker’s answer to the man of no party?” + said Wharton. + +“No.” + +“I think it was about the year ‘40, when party disputes about Whig +and Tory ran high--but no matter what year, it will do for any time. A +gentleman of undeviating integrity, an independent man, just such a man +as Mr. Vivian, offered himself candidate for a town in the east, west, +north, or south of England--no matter where, it will do for any place; +and the first person whose vote he solicited was a Quaker, who asked him +whether he was a Whig or Tory?--‘Neither. I am an independent, moderate +man; and when the members of administration are right, I will vote with +them--when wrong, against them.’ ‘And be these really thy principles?’ +quoth the Quaker; ‘then a vote of mine thou shalt never have. Thou seest +my door, it leadeth into the street; the right hand side of which is for +the Tory, the left for the Whigs; and for a cold-blooded moderate man, +like thee, there is the kennel, and into it thou wilt be jostled, for +thou beest not _decided_ enough for any other situation.’” + +“But why should the moderate man be condemned to the kennel?” said +Vivian. “Was there no middle to your Quaker’s road? A stout man cannot +be EASILY jostled into the kennel.” + +“Pshaw! pshaw!” said Wharton: “jesting out of the question, a man is +nothing in public life, or worse than nothing, a _trimmer_, unless HE +JOINS a party, and unless he abides by it, too.” + +“As long as the party is in the right, I presume, you mean,” said +Vivian. + +“Right or wrong’” cried Wharton, “a man must abide by his party. No +power, and no popularity, trust me, without it!--Better stride on the +greasy heads of the mob than be trampled under their dirtier feet. An +armed neutrality may be a good thing, but an unarmed neutrality is fit +only for fools. Besides, in Russell’s grand style, I can bring down the +ancients upon you, and tell you that when the commonwealth is in danger +he cannot be a good man who sides with neither party.” + +“If it be so necessary to join a party, and if, after once joining it, I +must abide by it, right or wrong, for life,” said Vivian, “it behoves +me to consider well, before I commit myself; and, before I go into the +ranks, I must see good reason to confide, not only in the abilities, but +in the integrity and public virtue of my leader.” + +“Public virtue! sounds fresh from college,” said Wharton; “I would as +soon, and sooner, hear a schoolboy read his theme as hear a man begin to +prose about public virtue--especially a member of parliament. Keep that +phrase, my dear Vivian, till some of the treasury bench come to court +you; then look superb, like a French tragic actor, swelling out your +chest, and throwing the head over the left shoulder--thus--exclaim, +‘Public virtue forbid!’--practise! practise!--for if you do it well, it +may be worth a loud huzza to you yet; or better still, a snug place or +pension. But stay till you’re asked--stay till you’re asked--that’s the +etiquette; never till then let me hear public virtue come out of your +lips, else you’ll raise suspicion of your virtue, and lower your price. +What would you think of a pretty actress who began to talk to you of +her reputation before you put it in any danger? Oh, Vivian! my honest +fellow! unless you would make me think you no better than thousands that +have gone before you, never let me hear from your lips again, till the +_proper_ time, the hypocritical state phrase--public virtue.” + +“I had always, till now, understood that it was possible to be a patriot +without being a hypocrite,” replied Vivian; “I always understood that +Mr. Wharton was a patriot.” + +“A very fair sarcasm on me,” said Wharton, laughing. “But you know, I’m +a sad dog; never set myself up for a pattern man.--Come! let’s home to +dinner, and a truce with politics and morality. I find, Vivian, you’re a +sturdy fellow, and must have your own way; no bending, no leading you, +I see. Well! it is a good thing to have so much strength of mind: I envy +you.” + +It must be recorded to the credit of our hero, that in defiance of +Wharton’s raillery, he talked, and--oh! still more wonderful!--thought +of public virtue, during nearly half of his first session in parliament. +But, alas! whilst his political principles thus withstood the force of +ridicule, temptation soon presented itself to Vivian in a new shape, +and in a form so seducing, as to draw his attention totally away from +politics, and to put his private, if not his public, honour, in the most +imminent peril. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +One morning, as Vivian was walking with Mr. Wharton up Bond-street, they +were met by a party of fashionable loungers, one of whom asked whether +Mrs. Wharton was not come to town yet. + +“Mrs. Wharton!” said Vivian, with an air of surprise. + +“Yes, she came to town this morning,” said Wharton, carelessly; then +laughing, as he turned to look at Vivian, “Vivian, my good fellow! what +smites you with such surprise? Did not you know I was married?” + +“I suppose I must have heard it; but I really forgot it,” said Vivian. + +“There you had the advantage of me,” said Wharton, still laughing. “But +if you never heard of Mrs. Wharton before, keep your own secret; for +I can tell you she would never forgive you, though I might. Put a good +face on the matter, at any rate; and swear you’ve heard so much of +her, that you were dying to see her. Some of these gentlemen, who have +nothing else to do, will introduce you whenever you please.” + +“And cannot I,” said Vivian, “have the honour of your introduction?” + +“Mine! the worst you could possibly have. The honour, as you are pleased +to call it, would be no favour, I assure you. The honour!--honour of a +husband’s introduction! What a novice you are, or would make me believe +you to be! But, seriously, I am engaged to-day at Glistonbury’s: so, +good morning to you.” + +Accustomed to hear Wharton talk in the freest manner of women and +marriage in general, and scarcely having heard him mention his own wife, +Vivian had, as he said, absolutely forgotten that Wharton was a married +man. When he was introduced to Mrs. Wharton, he was still more surprised +at her husband’s indifference; for he beheld a lady in all the radiance +of beauty, and all the elegance of fashion: he was so much dazzled by +her charms, that he had not immediately power or inclination to examine +what her understanding or disposition might be; and he could only repeat +to himself, “How is it possible that Wharton can be indifferent to such +a beautiful creature!” + +Incapable of feeling any of what he, called the romance of love, the +passion, of course, had always been with Mr. Wharton of a very transient +nature. Tired of his wife’s person, he showed his indifference without +scruple or ceremony. Notorious and glorying in his gallantries, he +was often heard to declare, that no price was too high to be paid for +beauty, except a man’s liberty; but that was a sacrifice which he +would never make to any woman, especially to a wife. Marriage vows +and custom-house oaths he classed in the same order of technical +forms,--nowise binding on the conscience of any but fools and dupes. +Whilst the husband went on in this manner, the wife satisfied herself by +indulgence in her strongest passions--the passion for dress and public +admiration. Childishly eager to set the fashion in trifles, she spent +unconscionable sums on her pretty person; and devoted all her days, or +rather all her nights, to public amusements. So insatiable and restless +is the passion for admiration, that she was never happy for half an hour +together, at any place of public amusement, unless she fixed the gaze +of numbers. The first winter after her marriage she enjoyed the +prerogatives of a fashionable beauty; but the reign of fashion is more +transient even than the bloom of beauty. Mrs. Wharton’s beauty soon grew +familiar, and faded in the public eye; some newer face was this season +the mode. Mrs. Wharton appeared twice at the opera in the most elegant +and becoming dresses; but no one followed her lead. Mortified and +utterly dejected, she felt, with the keenest anguish, the first symptoms +of the decline of public admiration. It was just at this period, when +she was miserably in want of the consolations of flattery, that Vivian’s +acquaintance with her commenced. Gratified by the sort of delighted +surprise which she saw in his countenance the first moment he beheld +her, seeing that he was an agreeable man, and knowing that he was a man +of fortune and family, she took pains to please him by all the common +arts of coquetry. But his vanity was proof against these: the weakness +of the lady’s understanding and the frivolity of her character were, for +some weeks, sufficient antidotes against all the power of her personal +charms; so much so, that at this period he often compared, or rather +contrasted, Mrs. Wharton and Selina, and blessed his happy fate. +He wrote to his friend Russell soon after he was introduced to this +celebrated beauty, and drew a strong and just parallel between +the characters of these two ladies: he concluded with saying, +“Notwithstanding your well-founded dread of the volatility of my +character, you will not, I hope, my dear Russell, do me the injustice to +apprehend that I am in any danger from the charms of Mrs. Wharton.” + +Vivian wrote with perfect sincerity; he believed it to be impossible +that he could ever become attached to such a woman as Mrs. Wharton, even +if she had not been married, and the wife of his friend. So, in all the +security of conscious contempt, he went every day to wait upon her, or +rather to meet agreeable company at her house,--a house in which +all that was fashionable and dissipated assembled; where beauty, +and talents, and rank, met and mingled; and where political or other +arrangements prevented the host and hostess from scrupulously excluding +some whose characters were not free from suspicion. Lady Mary Vivian +never went to Mrs. Wharton’s; but she acknowledged that she knew many +ladies of unblemished reputation who thought it no impropriety to +visit there; and Mrs. Wharton’s own character she knew was hitherto +unimpeached. “She is, indeed, a woman of a cold, selfish temper,” said +Lady Mary; “not likely to be led into danger by the tender passion, or +by any of the delusions of the imagination.” + +Vivian agreed with his mother in this opinion, and went on paying +his devoirs to her every day. It was the fashion of the times, and +peculiarly the mode of this house, for the gentlemen to pay exclusive +attention to matrons. Few of the young men seemed to think it worth +while to speak to an unmarried woman in any company; and the few who +might be inclined to it were, as they declared, deterred by the danger: +for either the young ladies themselves, or their mothers, immediately +formed expectations and schemes of drawing them into matrimony--the +grand object of the ladies’ wishes and of the gentlemen’s fears. The men +said they could not speak to an unmarried woman, or even dance with her +more than twice, without its being reported that they were going to +be married; and then the friends and relatives of the young ladies +pretended to think them injured and ill-treated, if these reports were +not realized. Our hero had some slight experience of the truth of these +complaints in his own case with the Lady Sarah Lidhurst: he willingly +took the rest upon trust--believed all the exaggerations of his +companions--and began to think it prudent and necessary to follow +their example, and to confine his attentions to married women. Many +irresistible reasons concurred to make Mrs. Wharton the most convenient +and proper person to whom he could pay this sort of homage: besides, +she seemed to fall to his share by lot and necessity; for, at Wharton’s +house, every other lady and every other gentleman being engaged in +gallantry, play, or politics, Mrs. Wharton must have been utterly +neglected if Vivian had not paid her some attention. Common politeness +absolutely required it; the attention became a matter of course, and +was habitually expected. Still he had not the slightest design of going +beyond the line of modern politeness; but, in certain circumstances, +people go wrong a great way before they are aware that they have gone +a single step. It was presently repeated to Mr. Vivian, by some of Mrs. +Wharton’s confidantes, in whispers, and under the solemn promise of +secrecy, that he certainly was a prodigious favourite of hers. He +laughed, and affected to disbelieve the insinuation: it made its +impression, however; and he was secretly flattered by the idea of being +a prodigious favourite with such a beautiful young creature. In some +moments he saw her with eyes of compassion, pitying her for the neglect +with which she was treated by her husband: he began to attribute much +of her apparent frivolity, and many of her faults, more to the want of +a guide and a friend than to a deficiency of understanding or to defects +of character. Mrs. Wharton had just sufficient sense to be cunning--this +implies but a very small portion: she perceived the advantage which she +gained by thus working upon Vivian’s vanity and upon his compassion. She +continued her operations, without being violently interested in their +success; for she had at first only a general wish to attract his +attention, because he was a fashionable young man. + +One morning when he called upon Wharton to accompany him to the House of +Commons, he found Mrs. Wharton in tears, her husband walking up and down +the room in evident ill-humour. He stopped speaking when Vivian entered; +and Mrs. Wharton endeavoured, or seemed to endeavour, to conceal her +emotion. She began to play on her harp; and Wharton, addressing himself +to Vivian, talked of the politics of the day. There was some incoherence +in the conversation; for Vivian’s attention was distracted by the air +that Mrs. Wharton was playing, of which he was passionately fond. + +“There’s no possibility of doing any thing while there is such a cursed +noise in the room!” cried Wharton. “Here I have the heads of this bill +to draw up--I cannot endure to have music wherever I go--” + +He snatched up his papers and retired to an adjoining apartment, begging +that Vivian would wait one quarter of an hour for him.--Mrs. Wharton’s +tears flowed afresh, and she looked beautiful in tears. + +“You see--you see, Mr. Vivian--and I am ashamed you should see--how I am +treated.--I am, indeed, the most unfortunate creature upon the face of +the earth; and nobody in this world has the least compassion for me!” + +Vivian’s countenance contradicted this last assertion most +positively.--Mrs. Wharton understood this; and her attitude of +despondency was the most graceful imaginable. + +“My dear Mrs. Wharton”--(it was the first time our hero had ever called +her “his dear Mrs. Wharton;” but it was only a platonic dear)--“you take +trifles much too seriously--Wharton was hurried by business--a moment’s +impatience must be forgiven.” + +“A moment!” replied Mrs. Wharton, casting up to heaven her beautiful +eyes--“Oh! Mr. Vivian, how little do you know of him!--I am the most +miserable creature that ever existed; but there is not a man upon earth +to whom I would say so except yourself.” + +Vivian could not help feeling some gratitude for this distinction; and, +as he leaned over her harp with an air of unusual interest, he said +he hoped that he should ever prove himself worthy of her esteem and +confidence. + +At this instant Wharton interrupted the conversation, by passing hastily +through the room.--“Come, Vivian,” said he; “we shall be very late at +the house.” + +“We shall see you again of course at dinner,” said Mrs. Wharton to +Vivian in a low voice. Our hero replied by an assenting bow. + +Five minutes afterwards he repented that he had accepted the invitation, +because he foresaw that he should resume a conversation which was at +once interesting and embarrassing. He felt that it was not right to +become the depository of this lady’s complaints against her husband; yet +he had been moved by her tears, and the idea that he was _the only man +in the world_ to whom she would open her heart upon such a delicate +subject, interested him irresistibly in her favour. He returned in +the evening, and was flattered by observing, that amongst the crowd of +company by which she was surrounded he was instantly distinguished. He +was perfectly persuaded of the innocence of her intentions; and, as +he was attached to another woman, he fancied that he could become the +friend of the beautiful Mrs. Wharton without danger. The first time he +had an opportunity of speaking to her in private, he expressed this +idea in the manner that he thought the most delicately flattering to +her self-complacency. Mrs. Wharton seemed to be perfectly satisfied with +this conduct; and declared, that unless she had been certain that he was +not a man of gallantry, she should never have placed any confidence in +his friendship. + +“I consider you,” said she, “quite as a married man:--by-the-bye, when +are you to be married, and what sort of a person is Miss Sidney?--I am +told she is excessively handsome, and amiable, and sensible.--What a +happy creature she is!--just going to be united to the man she loves!” + Here the lady gave a profound sigh; and Vivian had an opportunity of +observing that she had the longest dark eyelashes that he had ever seen. + +“I was married,” continued she, “before I knew what I was about. You +know Mr. Wharton can be so charming when he pleases--and then he was so +much in love with me, and swore he would shoot himself if I would not +have him--and all that sort of thing.--I protest I was terrified; and I +was quite a child, you know. I had been out but six weeks, and I thought +I was in love with him. That was because I did not know what love +was--_then_;--besides, he hurried and teased me to such a degree!--After +all, I’m convinced I married him more out of compassion than any +thing else; and now you see how he treats me!--most barbarously and +tyrannically!--But I would not give the least hint of this to any +man living but yourself. I conjure you to keep my secret--and--pity +me!--that is all I ask--pity me sometimes, when your thoughts are not +absorbed in a happier manner.” + +Vivian’s generosity was piqued: he could not be so selfish as to be +engrossed exclusively by his own felicity. He thought that delicacy +should induce him to forbear expatiating upon Selina’s virtues and +accomplishments, or upon his passion. He carried this delicacy so far, +that sometimes for a fortnight or three weeks he never mentioned her +name. He could not but observe that Mrs. Wharton did not like him +the less for this species of sacrifice. It may be observed, that Mrs. +Wharton managed her attack upon Vivian with more art than could be +expected from so silly a woman; but we must consider that all her +faculties were concentrated on one object; so that she seemed to have an +instinct for coquetry. The most silly animals in the creation, from the +insect tribe upwards, show, on some occasions, where their interests +are immediately concerned, a degree of sagacity and ingenuity, which, +compared with their usual imbecility, appears absolutely wonderful. The +opinion which Vivian had early formed of the weakness of this lady’s +understanding prevented him from being on his guard against her +artifices: he could not conceive it possible that he should be duped +by a person so obviously his inferior. With a woman of talents and +knowledge, he might have been suspicious; but there was nothing in Mrs. +Wharton to alarm his pride or to awaken his fears: he fancied that he +could extricate himself in a moment, and with the slightest effort, +from any snares which she could contrive; and, under this persuasion, he +neglected to make even that slight effort, and thus continued from hour +to hour in voluntary captivity. + +Insensibly Vivian became more interested for Mrs. Wharton; and, at the +same time, submitted with increased facility to the influence of her +husband. It was necessary that he should have some excuse to the +world, and yet more to his own conscience, for being so constantly at +Wharton’s. The pleasure he took in Wharton’s conversation was still a +sort of involuntary excuse to himself for his intimacy with the lady. +“Wharton’s wit more than Mrs. Wharton’s beauty,” thought he, “is the +attraction that draws me here--I am full as ready to be of his parties +as of hers; and this is the best proof that all is as it should be.” + +Wharton’s parties were not always such as Vivian would have chosen; but +he was pressed on, without power of resistance. For instance, one night +Wharton was going with Lord Pontipool and a set of dissipated young +men, to the house of a lady who made herself fashionable by keeping a +faro-bank. + +“Vivian, you’ll come along with us?” said Wharton. “Come, we must have +you--unless you are more happily engaged.” + +His eye glanced with a mixture of contempt and jealousy upon his wife. +Mrs. Wharton’s alarmed and imploring countenance at the same moment +seemed to say, “For Heaven’s sake, go with him, or I am undone.” In +such circumstances it was impossible for Vivian to say no: he followed +immediately; acting, as he thought, from a principle of honour and +generosity. Wharton was not a man to give up the advantage which he had +gained. Every day he showed more capricious jealousy of his wife, though +he, at the same time, expressed the most entire confidence in the honour +of his friend. Vivian still thought he could not do too much to convince +him that his confidence was not misplaced; and thus, to protect Mrs. +Wharton from suspicion, he yielded to all her husband’s wishes. Vivian +now felt frequently ashamed of his conduct, but always proud of his +motives; and, with ingenious sophistry, he justified to himself the +worst actions, by pleading that he did them with the best intentions. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +By this time Lady Mary Vivian began to hear hints of her son’s +attachment to Mrs. Wharton; and, much alarmed, she repented having +encouraged him to form a political or fashionable intimacy with the +Whartons. Suddenly awakened to the perception of the danger, Lady +Mary was too vehement in her terror. She spoke with so much warmth and +indignation, that there was little chance of her counsels being of use. + +“But, my dear madam, it is only a platonic attachment,” argued Vivian, +when his mother represented to him that the world talked loudly of his +intimacy with Mrs. Wharton. + +“A platonic attachment!--Fashionable, dangerous sophistry!” said Lady +Mary. + +“Why so, ma’am?” said her son, warmly; “and why should we mind what the +world says? The world is so fond of scandal, that a man and woman cannot +have any degree of friendship for one another without a hue and cry +being immediately raised--and all the prudes and coquettes join at once +in believing, or pretending to believe, that there must be something +wrong. No wonder such a pretty woman as Mrs. Wharton cannot escape envy, +and, of course, censure; but her conduct can defy the utmost malice of +her enemies.” + +“I hope so,” said Lady Mary; “and, at all events, I am not one of them. +I know and care very little about Mrs. Wharton, whom I have always been +accustomed to consider as a frivolous, silly woman; but what I wish to +say, though I fear I have lost your confidence, and that my advice will +not--” + +“Frivolous! silly!” interrupted Vivian; “believe me, my dear mother, you +and half the world are, and have been, under a great mistake about her +understanding and character.” + +“Her forming a platonic friendship with a young man is no great proof +of her sense or of her virtue,” said Lady Mary. “The danger of platonic +attachments, I thought, had been sufficiently understood. Pray, my +dear Charles, never let me hear more from you of platonics with married +women.” + +“I won’t use the expression, ma’am, if you have any objection to it,” + said Vivian; “but, mother, you wish me to live in the most fashionable +company, and yet you desire me not to live as they live, and talk as +they talk: now, that is next to impossible. Pardon me, but I should not +have thought,” added he, laughing, “that you, who like most things that +are fashionable, would object to _platonics_.” + +“Object to them!--I despise, detest, abhor them! _Platonics_ have been +the ruin of more women, the destruction of the peace of more families, +than open profligacy ever could have accomplished. Many a married woman, +who would have started with horror at the idea of beginning an intrigue, +has been drawn in to admit of a platonic attachment. And many a man, +who would as soon have thought of committing murder as of seducing his +friend’s wife, has allowed himself to commence a platonic attachment; +and how these end, all the world knows.” + +Struck by these words, Vivian suddenly quitted his air of raillery, and +became serious. Had his mother stopped there, and left the rest to his +good sense and awakened perception of danger, all would have been well; +but she was ever prone to say too much; and, in her ardour to prove +herself to be in the right, forgot that people are apt to be shocked, by +having it pointed out that they are utterly in the wrong. + +“Indeed, the very word platonics,” pursued she, “is considered, by those +who have seen any thing of life, as the mere watchword of knaves or +dupes; of those who deceive, or of those who wish to be deceived.” + +“Be assured, ma’am,” said Vivian, “that Mrs. Wharton is not one of those +who wish either to deceive or to be deceived; and, as to myself, I hope +I am as far from any danger of being a dupe as of being a knave. My +connexion with Mrs. Wharton is perfectly innocent; it is justified +by the example of hundreds and thousands every day in the fashionable +world; and I should do her and myself great injustice, if I broke off +our intimacy suddenly, as if I acknowledged that it was improper.” + +“And what can be more improper? since you force me to speak plainly,” + cried Lady Mary; “what can be more improper than such an intimacy, +especially in your circumstances?” + +“My circumstances! What circumstances, ma’am?” + +“Have you forgotten Miss Sidney?” + +“By no means, ma’am,” said Vivian, colouring deeply; “Mrs. Wharton is +well apprized, and was, from the first moment of our friendship, clearly +informed of my----engagements with Miss Sidney.” + +“And how do they agree with your attachment to Mrs. Wharton?” + +“Perfectly well, ma’am--Mrs. Wharton understands all that perfectly +well, ma’am.” + +“And Miss Sidney! do you think she will understand it?--and is it not +extraordinary that I should think more of her feelings than you do?” + +At these questions Vivian became so angry, that he was incapable of +listening farther to reason, or to the best advice, even from a mother, +for whom he had the highest respect. The mother and son parted with +feelings of mutual dissatisfaction. + +Vivian, from that spirit of opposition so often seen in weak characters, +went immediately from his mother’s _lecture_ to a party at Mrs. +Wharton’s. Lady Mary, in the mean time, sat down to write to Miss +Sidney. Whatever reluctance she had originally felt to her son’s +marriage with this young lady, it must be repeated, to her ladyship’s +credit, that Selina’s honourable and disinterested conduct had won her +entire approbation. She wrote, therefore, in the strongest terms to +press the immediate conclusion of that match, which she now considered +as the only chance of securing her son’s morals and happiness. Her +letter concluded with these words:--“I shall expect you in town +directly. Do not, my dear, let any idle scruples prevent you from coming +to my house. Consider that my happiness, your own, and my son’s, depend +upon your compliance. I am persuaded, that the moment he sees you, the +moment you exert your power over him, he will be himself again. But, +believe me, I know the young men of the present day better than you do: +their constancy is not proof against absence. If he lose the habit of +seeing and conversing with you, I cannot answer for the rest.--Adieu! I +am so much harassed by my own thoughts, and by the reports I hear, that +I scarcely know what I write. Pray come immediately, my dear Selina, +that I may talk to you of many subjects on which I don’t like to trust +myself to write. My feelings have been too long repressed.--I must +unburden my heart to you. _You_ only can console and assist me; and, +independently of all other considerations, you owe to my friendship +for you, Selina, not to refuse this first request I ever made +you.--Farewell! I shall expect to see you as soon as possible. + +“Yours, &c. + +“MARY VIVIAN.” + +“_St. James’s-street_.” + +In this letter, Lady Mary Vivian had not explained the nature of her +son’s danger, or of her fears for him. Motives of delicacy had prevented +her from explicitly telling Miss Sidney her suspicions that Vivian was +attached to a married woman. “Selina,” said her ladyship to herself, +“must, probably, have heard the report from Mr. G----, who is so often +at her mother’s; therefore, there can be no necessity for my saying any +more than I have done. She will understand my hints.” + +Unfortunately, however, Miss Sidney did not comprehend, or in the least +suspect, the most material part of the truth; she understood simply, +from Lady Mary’s letter, that Vivian’s affections wavered, and she +imagined that he was, perhaps, on the point of making matrimonial +proposals for some fashionable belle, probably for one of the Lady +Lidhursts; but the idea of his becoming attached to a married woman +never entered her thoughts. Many motives conspired to incline Selina to +accept of the invitation. The certainty that Lady Mary would be highly +offended by a refusal; the hint, that her influence over Vivian would +operate immediately, and in all its force, if he were to see and +converse with her; and that, on the contrary, absence might extinguish +his passion for ever; curiosity to learn precisely the nature of the +reports, which his mother had heard to his disadvantage; but, above +all, a fond wish to be nearer to the man she loved, and to have daily +opportunities of seeing him, prompted Selina to comply with Lady Mary’s +request. On the contrary, good sense and delicacy represented, that +she had released Vivian from all promises, all engagements; that, at +parting, she had professed to leave him perfectly at liberty: that it +would, therefore, be as indelicate as imprudent to make such an attempt +to reclaim his inconstant heart. She had told him, that she desired +to have proof of the steadiness, both of his character and of his +attachment, before she could consent to marry him. From this decision +she could not, she would not, recede. She had the fortitude to persist +in this resolution. She wrote to Lady Mary Vivian in the kindest, but, +at the same time, in the most decided terms, declining the tempting +invitation. + +It happened that Vivian was with his mother at the moment when Selina’s +answer arrived. In the firm belief that such a pressing invitation as +she had sent, to a person in Selina’s circumstances and of Selina’s +temper, could not be refused, her ladyship had made it a point with her +son to dine _tête-à-tête_ with her this day; and she had been talking to +him, in the most eloquent but imprudent manner, of the contrast between +the characters of Mrs. Wharton and Miss Sidney. He protested that his +esteem and love for Miss Sidney were unabated; yet, when his mother told +him that he would, perhaps, in a few minutes see his Selina, he +changed colour, grew embarrassed and melancholy, and thus by his looks +effectually contradicted his words. He was roused from his reverie by +the arrival of Selina’s letter. His mother’s disappointment and anger +were expressed in the strongest terms, when she found that Selina +declined her invitation; but such are the quick and seemingly perverse +turns of the human heart, Vivian grew warm in Selina’s defence the +moment that his mother became angry with her: he read her letter with +tender emotion, for he saw through the whole of it, the strength, as +well as the delicacy of her attachment. All that his mother’s praises +had failed to effect, was immediately accomplished by this letter; +and he, who but an instant before dreaded to meet Selina, now that +she refused to come, was seized with a strong desire to see her; his +impatience was so great, that he would willingly have set out that +instant for the country. Men of such characters as Vivian’s are +peculiarly jealous of their free will; and, precisely because they +know that they are easily led, they resist, in affairs of the heart +especially, the slightest appearance of control. + +Lady Mary was delighted to hear her son declare his resolution to leave +town the next morning, and to see Miss Sidney as soon as possible; but +she could not forbear reproaching him for not doing what she wanted +precisely in the manner in which she had planned that it should be done. + +“I see, my dear Charles,” cried she, “that even when you do right, I +must not flatter myself that it is owing to any influence of mine. Give +my compliments to Miss Sidney, and assure her that I shall in future +forbear to injure her in your opinion by my interference, or even by +expressing my approbation of her character. My anger, it is obvious, has +served her better than my kindness; and therefore she has no reason to +regret that my affection has been lessened, as I confess it has been, by +her late conduct.” + +The next morning, when Vivian was prepared to leave town, he called upon +Wharton, to settle with him about some political, business which was to +be transacted in his absence. Wharton was not at home--Vivian knew that +it would be best to avoid seeing Mrs. Wharton; but he was afraid that +she would be offended, and he could not help _sacrificing a few minutes +to politeness_. The lady was alone; apparently very languid, and +charmingly melancholy. Before Vivian could explain himself, she poured +forth, in silly phrases, but in a voice that made even nonsense please, +a rariety of reproaches for his having absented himself for such a +length of time.--“Positively, she would keep him prisoner, now that +she had him safe once more.” To be kept prisoner by a fair lady was +so flattering, that it was full an hour before he could prevail +upon himself to assert his liberty--the fear of giving pain, indeed, +influenced him still more than vanity. At last, when Mrs. Wharton spoke +of her engagements for the evening, and seemed to take it for granted +that he would be of her party, he summoned resolution sufficient--Oh! +wonderful effort of courage!--to tell her, that he was under a necessity +of leaving town immediately. + +“Going, I presume, to--” + +“To the country,” said Vivian, firmly. + +“To the country!----No, no, no; say at once, to Selina!--Tell me the +worst in one word!” + +Astonished beyond measure, Vivian had not power to move. The lady fell +back on the sofa in violent hysterics. Our hero trembled lest any of her +servants should come in, or lest her husband should at his return find +her in this condition, and discover the cause. He endeavoured in vain to +soothe and compose the weeping fair one; he could not have the +barbarity to leave her in this state. By sweet degrees she recovered her +recollection--was in the most lovely confusion--asked where she was, and +what was going to happen. Vivian had not the rashness to run the risk +of a second fit of hysterics; he gave up all thoughts of his journey +for this day, and the lady recovered her spirits in the most flattering +manner. Vivian intended to postpone his journey only for a single +day; but, after he had yielded one point, he found that there was no +receding. He was now persuaded that Mrs. Wharton was miserable; that she +would never forgive herself for having betrayed the state of her heart. +His self-love pleaded powerfully in her favour: he considered that her +husband treated her with mortifying neglect, and provoked the spirit +of retaliation by his gallantries. Vivian fancied that Mrs. Wharton’s +attachment to him might render her wretched, but would never make her +criminal. With sophistical delicacy he veiled his own motives; and, +instead of following the plain dictates of reason, he involved his +understanding in that species of sentimental casuistry which confounds +all principles of right and wrong. But the dread that he felt lest +Wharton should discover what was going on might have sufficiently +convinced him that he was not acting honourably. The suspicions which +Mr. Wharton formerly showed of his wife seemed now to be completely +lulled asleep; and he gave Vivian continually such proofs of confidence +as stung him to the soul. By an absurd, but not an uncommon error of +self-love, Vivian was induced to believe, that a man who professed to +cheat mankind in general behaved towards him in particular with strict +honour, and even with unparalleled generosity. Honesty was too vulgar a +virtue for Wharton; but honour, the aristocratic, exclusive virtue of a +gentleman, he laid claim to in the highest tone. The very frankness with +which Wharton avowed his libertine principles with respect to women, +convinced Vivian that he had not the slightest suspicion that these +could be immediately applied to the ruin of his own wife. + +“How can you, my dear Wharton, talk in this manner?” said Vivian once, +when he had been speaking with great _freedom_. + +“But it is better,” added he, with a sigh, “to speak than to act like a +villain.” + +“Villain!” repeated Wharton, with a sarcastic laugh; “you are grown +quite ridiculous, Vivian: I protest, I don’t understand you. Women +now-a-days are surely able, if not willing enough, to take care of +themselves; and _villains_, though they were very common in the time +of Miss Clarissa Harlowe, and of all the tragedy queens of the last +century, are not to be heard of in these days. Any strange tales of +those male monsters called seducers could gain credit during the ages +of ignorance and credulity; but now, the enlightened world cannot +be imposed upon by such miracles; and a gentleman may be a man of +gallantry--nay, even a lady may be a woman of gallantry--without being +hooted out of society as a _monster_; at all events, the blame is, as it +should be, equally divided between the parties concerned; and if modern +lovers quarrel, they do not die of grief, but settle their differences +in a court of law, where a spinster may have her compensation for a +breach of contract of marriage; a father or a husband their damages for +the loss of the company, affection, solace, services, &c., as the case +may be, of his wife or daughter. All this is perfectly well understood; +and the terrors of law are quite sufficient, without the terrors of +sentiment. If a man punish himself, or let himself be punished, twice +for the same offence, once by his conscience, and once by his king and +his country, he is a fool; and, moreover, acts contrary to the spirit +of the British law, which sayeth--see Blackstone and others--that no +man shall be punished twice for the same offence.--Suffer your +risible muscles to relax, I beseech you, Vivian; and do not affect a +presbyterian rigidity, which becomes your face as ill as your age.” + +“I affect nothing--certainly I do not affect presbyterian rigidity,” + cried Vivian, laughing. “But, after all, Wharton, if you had a daughter +or a sister, what would you think of any man, your friend for instance, +who should attempt--” + +“To cut your speech short at once,” interrupted Wharton, “I should not +think at all about the matter; I should blow his brains out, of +course; and afterwards, probably, blow out my own. But treachery from a +friend--from a man of honour--is a thing of which I can hardly form an +idea. Where I give my confidence, I give it without any paltry mental +reservation--I could not suspect a friend.” + +Vivian suffered, at this instant, all the agony which a generous mind, +conscious of guilt, could endure. He thought that the confusion of his +mind must be visible in his countenance--his embarrassment was so great +that he could not utter a word. Wharton did not seem to perceive his +companion’s agitation, but passed on carelessly to other subjects of +conversation; and at length completely relieved Vivian from fear of +immediate detection, by asking a favour from him--a pecuniary favour. + +“All is safe--Mrs. Wharton, at least, is safe, thank Heaven!” thought +Vivian. “Had her husband the slightest suspicion, he never would +condescend to accept of any favour from me.” + +With eagerness, and almost with tears of gratitude, Vivian pressed +upon Wharton the money which he _condescended_ to borrow--it was no +inconsiderable sum. + +“Wharton!” cried he, “you sometimes talk freely--too freely; but you +are, I am convinced, the most open-hearted, unsuspicious, generous +fellow upon earth--you deserve a better friend than I am.” + +Unable any longer to suppress or conceal the emotions which struggled in +his heart, he broke away abruptly, hurried home, shut himself up in his +own apartment, and sat down immediately to write to Mrs. Wharton. The +idea that Mrs. Wharton loved him in preference to all the fashionable +coxcombs and wits by whom she was surrounded had insensibly raised our +hero’s opinion of her understanding so much, that he now imagined that +the world laboured under a prejudice against her abilities. He gave +himself credit for having discovered that this beauty was not a fool; +and he now spoke and wrote to her as if she had been a woman of sense. +With eloquence which might have moved a woman of genius, with delicacy +that might have touched a woman of feeling, he conjured her to fortify +his honourable resolutions; and thus, whilst it was yet time, to secure +her happiness and his own. “Instead of writing this letter,” added he +in a postscript, “I ought, perhaps, to fly from you for ever; but that +would show a want of confidence in you and in myself; and, besides, upon +the most mature reflection, I think it best to stay, and wait upon you +to-morrow as usual, lest, by my precipitation, I should excite suspicion +in Wharton’s mind.” + +The weak apprehension that Mrs. Wharton should betray herself by another +fit of hysterics, if he should leave town, and if his departure +should be suddenly announced to her by her husband, or by some common +acquaintance, induced him to delay a few days longer, that he might +prepare her mind by degrees, and convince her of the necessity for their +absolute separation. When he had finished his letter to Mrs. Wharton, he +was sufficiently well pleased with himself to venture to write to Miss +Sidney. His letters to her had of late been short and constrained; but +this was written with the full flow of affection. He was now in hopes +that he should extricate himself honourably from his difficulties, and +that he might at last claim his reward from Selina. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +After he had despatched his two letters, he became excessively anxious +to receive Mrs. Wharton’s answer. By trifling but unavoidable accidents, +it was delayed a few hours. At last it arrived; Vivian tore it open, and +read with surprise these words: + +“Your letter is just what I wished, and makes me the happiest of +women--that is, if you are sincere--which, after all you’ve said, I +can’t doubt. I am so hurried by visitors, and annoyed, that I cannot +write more; but shall have time to talk to-night at the opera.” + +At the opera Mrs. Wharton appeared in high spirits, and was dressed with +more than usual elegance. It was observed that she had never been seen +to look so beautiful. There was something in her manner that puzzled +Vivian extremely; this extraordinary gaiety was not what he had reason +to expect. “Is it possible,” thought he, “that this woman is a mere +coquette, who has been amusing herself at my expense all this time, +and can now break off all connexion with me without a moment’s regret?” + Vivian’s pride was piqued: though he wished to part from the lady, he +could not bear that this parting should evidently cost her nothing. +He was mortified beyond expression by the idea that he had been duped. +After the opera was over, whilst Mrs. Wharton was waiting for her +carriage, he had an opportunity of speaking to her without being +overheard. + +“I am happy,” said he, with a constrained voice, “I am extremely happy +to see you, madam, in such charming spirits to-night.” + +“But are not you a strange man to look so grave?” cried Mrs. Wharton. “I +vow, I don’t know what to make of you! But I believe you want to quarrel +for the pleasure of making it up again. Now that won’t do. By-the-bye, +I have a quarrel with you, sir.--How came you to sign your name to that +foolish stuff you wrote me yesterday? Never do so any more, I charge +you, for fear of accidents. But what’s the matter now?--You are a +strange mortal!--Are you going to die upon the spot?--What is the +matter?” + +“My letter to you was not signed, I believe,” said Vivian, in an altered +voice. + +“Indeed it was,” said Mrs. Wharton. “It was signed Charles Vivian at +full length. But why are you in such tremors about it? I only mentioned +it to put you on your guard in future.--I’ve burnt the letter--people +always get themselves into scrapes if they don’t burn love-letters--as +I’ve often heard Mr. Wharton say,” added she, laughing. + +To his unspeakable consternation, Vivian now discovered that he had +sent the letter intended for Selina to Mrs. Wharton; and that which was +designed for Mrs. Wharton he had directed to Miss Sidney. Vivian was +so lost in thought, that the cry of _“Mrs. Wharton’s carriage stops +the way!”_ was vociferated many times before he recovered sufficient +presence of mind to hand the lady out of the house. He went home +immediately, that he might reflect upon what was best to be done. His +servant presently gave him a letter which a messenger had just brought +from the country. The packet was from Selina. + +“Enclosed, I return the letter which I received from you this morning. I +read the first three lines of it before I perceived that it could not be +intended for me--I went no farther.--I cannot help knowing for whom +it was designed; but you may be assured that your secret shall be kept +inviolably.--You have no reproaches to fear from me.--This is the last +letter I shall ever write to you.--Leave it to me to explain my own +conduct to my mother and to yours; if they think me capricious, I can +bear it. I shall tell them that my sentiments are totally changed: I am +sure I can say so with perfect truth.--Oh, Vivian, it is you who are to +be pitied; every thing may be endured except remorse. Would to Heaven, I +could save you from the reproaches of your own heart!--Adieu! + +“SELINA SIDNEY.” + +The feelings of Vivian’s mind, on reading this letter, cannot be +described. Admiration, love, tenderness, remorse, successively seized +upon his heart. Incapable of any distinct reflection, he threw himself +upon his bed, and closed his eyes, endeavouring to compose himself to +sleep, that he might forget his existence. But, motionless as he lay, +the tumult of his mind continued unabated. His pulse beat high; and +before morning he was in a fever. The dread that his mother should come +to attend him, and to inquire into the cause of his illness, increased +his agitation:--she came. Her kindness and anxiety were fresh torments +to her unhappy son. Bitterly did he reproach himself as the cause of +misery to those he loved and esteemed most in the world. He became +delirious; and, whilst he was in this state, he repeated Mrs. Wharton’s +name sometimes in terms of endearment, sometimes in accents of +execration. His mother’s suspicions of his intrigue were confirmed by +many expressions which burst from him, and which were thought by his +attendants to be merely the ravings of fever. Lady Mary had, at this +crisis, the prudence to conceal her doubts, and to keep every body, as +much as possible, out of her son’s apartment. In a few days his fever +subsided, and he recovered to the clear recollection of all that +had passed previously to his illness. He almost wished to be again +delirious. The first time he was left alone, he rose from his bed, +unlocked his bureau, and seized Selina’s letter, which he read again and +again, studying each line and word, as if he could draw from them every +time a new meaning. + +“She read but three lines of my letter,” said he to himself; “then she +only guesses that I have an intrigue with Mrs. Wharton, without knowing +that in this very letter I used my utmost influence to recall Mrs. +Wharton to--herself.” + +The belief that Selina thought worse of him than he deserved was +some consolation to Vivian. He was resolved to recover her esteem: he +determined to break off all connexion with Mrs. Wharton; and, full of +this intention, he was impatient till the physicians permitted him to go +abroad. When he was at last free from their dominion, had escaped from +his chamber, and had just gained the staircase, he was stopped by his +mother. + +“Charles,” said she, “before you quit me again, it is my duty to say a +few words to you upon a subject of some importance.” + +Lady Mary led the way to her dressing-room with a dignified air; Vivian +followed with a mixture of pride and alarm in his manner. From the bare +idea of a maternal lecture his mind revolted: he imagined that she was +going to repeat the remonstrance which she had formerly made against his +intimacy with Mrs. Wharton, and against _platonics_ in general; but he +had not the least apprehension that she had discovered the whole truth: +he was, therefore, both surprised and shocked, when she spoke to him in +the following manner: + +“The libertinism of the age in which we live has so far loosened all +the bonds of society, and all the ties of nature, that I doubt not but +a mother’s anxiety for the morals of her son--her only son--the son over +whose education she has watched from his infancy, may appear, even in +his eyes, a fit subject for ridicule. I am well aware that my solicitude +and my counsels have long been irksome to him, I have lost his +affections by a steady adherence to my duty; but I shall persevere with +the less reluctance, since the dread of my displeasure, or the hope of +my approbation, cannot now touch his sensibility. During your illness, +you have betrayed a secret--you have reason to start with horror. Is +it possible that a son of mine, with the principles which I have +endeavoured to instil into his mind, should become so far depraved? Do +I live to hear, from his own lips, that he is the seducer of a married +woman--and that woman the wife of his friend?” + +Vivian walked up and down the room in great agony: his mother continued, +with increased severity of manner, “I say nothing of your dissimulation +with me, nor of all your _platonic_ subterfuges--I know that, with a +man of intrigue, falsehood is deemed a virtue. I shall not condescend to +inquire farther into your guilty secrets--I now think myself fortunate +in having no place in your confidence. But I here declare to you, in the +most solemn manner, that I never will see you again until all connexion +between you and Mrs. Wharton is utterly dissolved. I do not advise--I +COMMAND, and must be obeyed--or I cast you off for ever.” + +Lady Mary left the room as she uttered these words. Her son was deeply +struck with his mother’s eloquence: he knew she was right, yet his pride +was wounded by the peremptory severity of her manner:--his remorse and +his good resolutions gave place to anger. The more he felt himself +in the wrong, the less he could bear to be reproached by the voice +of authority. Even because his mother _commanded_ him to give up all +connexion with Mrs. Wharton, he was inclined to disobey--he could not +bear to seem to do right merely in compliance to her will. He went to +visit Mrs. Wharton in a very different temper from that in which, half +an hour before this conference with his mother, he had resolved to see +the lady. Mrs. Wharton knew how to take advantage both of the weakness +of his character and of the generosity of his temper. She fell into +transports of grief when she found that Lady Mary Vivian and Miss Sidney +were in possession of her secret. It was in vain that Vivian assured her +that it would be kept inviolably; she persisted in repeating, “that her +reputation was lost; that she had sacrificed every thing for a man who +would, at last, desert her in the most treacherous and barbarous +manner, leaving her at the mercy of her husband, the most profligate, +hard-hearted tyrant upon earth. As to her being reconciled to him,” she +declared, “_that_ was totally out of the question; his behaviour to her +was such, that she could not live with him, even if her heart were not +fatally prepossessed in favour of another.” Her passions seemed wrought +to the highest pitch. With all the eloquence of beauty in distress, she +appealed to Vivian as her only friend; she threw herself entirely upon +his protection; she vowed that she could not, would not, remain another +day in the same house with Mr. Wharton; that her destiny, her existence, +were at Vivian’s mercy. Vivian had not sufficient fortitude to support +this scene. He stood irresolute. The present temptation prevailed over +his better resolutions. He was actually persuaded by this woman, whom +he did not love, whom he could not esteem, to carry her off to the +continent--whilst, at the very time, he admired, esteemed, and loved +another. The plan of the elopement was formed and settled in a few +minutes;--on Mrs. Wharton’s part, apparently with all the hurry of +passion; on Vivian’s with all the confusion of despair. The same +carriage, the very same horses, that had been ordered to carry our hero +to his beloved Selina, conveyed him and Mrs. Wharton the first stage +of their flight towards the continent. The next morning the following +paragraph appeared in the newspapers:-- + +“Yesterday, the beautiful and fashionable Mrs. W----, whose marriage we +announced last year to the celebrated Mr. W----, eloped from his +house in St. James’s-street, in company with C---- V----, member for +----shire. This catastrophe has caused the greatest _sensation_ and +astonishment in the circles of fashion; for the lady in question had +always, till this fatal step, preserved the most unblemished reputation; +and Mr. and Mrs. W---- were considered as models of conjugal felicity. +The injured husband was attending his public duty in the House of +Commons; and, as we are credibly informed, was, with patriotic ardour, +speaking in his country’s cause, when this unfortunate event, which for +ever bereaves him of domestic happiness, took place. What must +increase the poignancy of his feelings upon the occasion remains to be +stated--that the seducer was his intimate friend, a young man, whom he +had raised into notice in public life, and whom he had, with all that +warmth and confidence of heart for which he is remarkable, introduced +into his house, and trusted with his beloved wife. Mr. W---- is, we +hear, in pursuit of the fugitives.” + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +In the modern fashionable code of honour, when a man has seduced or +carried off his friend’s wife, the next thing he has to do is to fight +the man whom he has injured and betrayed. By thus appealing to the +ordeal of the duel, he may not only clear himself from guilt; but, if +it be done with proper spirit, he may acquire celebrity and glory in the +annals of gallantry, and in the eyes of the fair and innocent. In our +hero’s place, most men of fashion would have triumphed in the notoriety +of his offence, and would have rejoiced in an opportunity of offering +the husband the satisfaction of a gentleman. But, unfortunately for +Vivian, he had not yet suited his principles to his practice: he had +acted like a man of fashion; but, alas! he still thought and felt like a +man of virtue--as the following letter will show. + +“TO THE REV. HENRY RUSSELL. + +“Indignant as you will be, Russell, at all you hear of me, you cannot +be more shocked than I am myself. I do not write to palliate or +apologize--my conduct admits of no defence--I shall attempt none, +private or public--I have written to my lawyer to give directions that +no sort of defence shall be set up on my part, when the affair comes +into Doctors’ Commons--as it shortly will; for I understand that poor +Wharton has commenced a prosecution. As to damages he has only to name +them--any thing within the compass of my fortune he may command. Would +to God that money could make him amends! But he is too generous, too +noble a fellow--profligate as he is in some things, how incapable would +he be of acting as basely as I have done! There is not, perhaps, at +this moment, a human being who has so high an opinion of the man I have +injured as I have myself:--he did not love his wife--but that is no +excuse for me--his honour is as much wounded as if I had robbed him of +her during the time he loved her most fondly:--he once doted upon her, +and would have loved her again, when he was tired of his gallantries; +and they might then have lived together as happily as ever, if I had +not been--. What was I?--What am I?--Not a villain--or I should glory in +what I have done--but the weakest of human beings--and how true it is, +Russell, that ‘all wickedness is weakness!’ + +“I understand that W----, wherever he goes, calls me a coward, as +well as a scoundrel; and says that I have kept out of the way to avoid +fighting him. He is mistaken. It is true, I had the utmost dread of +having his life to answer for--and nothing should have provoked me to +fire upon him;--but I had determined how to act--I would have met him, +and have stood his fire. I should not be sorry, at present, to be put +out of the world; and would rather fall by his hand than by any other. +But since this is out of the question, and that things have taken +another turn, I have only to live, as long as it shall please God, a +life of remorse--and, at least, to try to make the unfortunate woman who +has thrown herself upon my protection as happy as I can. + +“If you have any remaining regard for a pupil who has so disgraced you, +do me one favour--Go to Miss Sidney, and give her what comfort you can. +Say nothing _for me_, or _of me_, but that I wish her to forget me +as soon as possible. She discarded me from her heart when she first +discovered this intrigue--before this last fatal step. Still I had +hopes of recovering her esteem and affection; for I had resolved--But no +matter what I resolved--all my resolutions failed; and now I am utterly +unworthy of her love. This, and all that is good and happy in life, all +the fair hopes and virtuous promises of my youth, I must give up. Early +as it is in my day, my sun has set. I truly desire that she should +forget me; for you know I am bound in honour--Honour! How dare I use the +word? I am bound, after the divorce, to marry the woman I have seduced. +Oh, Russell! what a wife for your friend!--What a daughter-in-law for my +poor mother, after all her care of my education--all her affection--all +her pride in me!--It will break her heart! Mine will not break. I shall +drag on, perhaps, to a miserable old age. I am of too feeble a nature to +feel these things as strong minds would--as you will for me; but do not +blame yourself for my faults. All that man could do for me, you did. +This must be some consolation to you, my dear and excellent friend! May +I still call you friend?--or have I no friend left upon earth? + +“C. VIVIAN.” + +From this letter some idea may be formed of what this unhappy man +suffered at this period of his life, from “the reflections of a mind not +used to its own reproaches.” The view of the future was as dreadful +as the retrospect of the past. His thoughts continually dwelt upon the +public trial which was preparing--before him he saw all its disgraceful +circumstances. Then the horror of marrying, of passing his whole future +existence with a woman whom he could not esteem or trust! These last +were secret subjects of anxiety and anguish, the more intensely felt, +because he could not speak of them to any human being. Such as Mrs. +Wharton was, she was to be his wife; and he was called upon to defend +her against reproach and insult,--if possible, from contempt. During +the course of six weeks, which they spent together in exile at Brussels, +Vivian became so altered in his appearance, that his most intimate +friends could scarcely have known him; his worst enemies, if he had had +any, could not have desired the prolongation of his sufferings. + +One evening, as he was sitting alone in his hotel, ruminating bitter +thoughts, a letter was brought to him from Mr. Russell; the first he had +received since he left England. Every one, who has been absent from his +friends in a foreign country, must know the sort of emotion which +the bare sight of a letter from _home_ excites; but, in Vivian’s +circumstances, abandoned as he felt himself, and deserving to be +abandoned by his best friends, the sight of a letter from Russell so +struck him, that he gazed upon the direction for some minutes, almost +without power or wish to open it. At last he opened, and read, “Return +to your country, your friends, and yourself, Vivian! Your day is not +yet over! Your sun is not yet set!--Resume your energy--recover your +self-confidence--carry your good resolutions into effect--and you may +yet be an honour to your family, a delight to your fond mother, and +the pride of your friend Russell. Your remorse has been poignant and +sincere; let it be salutary and permanent in its consequences: this is +the repentance which religion requires. The part of a man of sense and +virtue is to make his past errors of use to his future conduct. Whilst +I had nothing to say that could give you pleasure, I forbore to answer +your letter; I forbore to overwhelm a mind sinking under remorse. My +sacred duty is to waken the sinner to repentance, not to shut the gates +of mercy on the penitent. Now, I can relieve your mind from part of the +load by which it has been justly oppressed. You know that nothing can +palliate your conduct in an intrigue with a married woman--from this I +had hoped your moral and religious education would have preserved you. +But of the premeditated guilt of deceiving the husband, and laying a +plan to seduce the wife, I never suspected you; and I may now tell you, +that you have not betrayed Mr. Wharton; he has betrayed you. You have +not seduced Mrs. Wharton; you have been seduced by her. You are not +bound to marry her--Wharton cannot obtain a divorce--he dare not bring +the affair to trial; if he does, he is undone. There has been collusion +between the parties. The proof of this you will find in the enclosed +paper, which will be sworn to, in due legal form, whenever it is +necessary. Even when you see them, you will scarcely believe these +‘damning proofs’ of Wharton’s baseness. But I always knew, I always told +you, that this pretence to honour and candour, frankness and friendship, +with this avowed contempt of all principle and all virtue, could not +be safe, could not be sincere, would not _stand the test_.--No--nothing +should make me trust to the private honour of a man so corrupt in public +life as Mr. Wharton. A man who sells his conscience for his interest +will sell it for his pleasure. A man who will betray his country will +betray his friend. It is in vain to palter with our conscience: there +are not two honours--two honesties. How I rejoice at this moment, in the +reflection that your character, as a public man, is yet untarnished +You have still this great advantage:--feel its value. Return, and +distinguish yourself among your countrymen: distinguish yourself by +integrity still more than by talents. A certain degree of talents is +now cheap in England: integrity is what we want--true patriotism, true +public spirit, noble ambition not that vile scramble for places and +pensions, which some men call ambition; not that bawling, brawling, +_Thersites_ character, which other men call public spirit; not that +marketable commodity with which Wharton, and such as he, cheat popular +opinion for a season;--but that fair virtue which will endure, and abide +by its cause to the last; which, in place or out, shall be the same; +which, successful or unsuccessful, shall sustain the possessor’s +character through all changes of party; which, whilst he lives, shall +command respect from even the most profligate of his contemporaries; +upon which, when he is dying, he may reflect with satisfaction; which, +after his death, shall be the consolation of his friends, and the glory +of his country. All this is yet in your power, Vivian.--Come, then, and +fulfil the promise of your early years! Come, and restore to your mother +a son worthy of her!--Come, and surpass the hopes of your true friend, + +“H. RUSSELL.” + +The rapid succession of feelings with which Vivian read this letter +can scarcely be imagined. The paper it enclosed was from a former +waiting-maid of Mrs. Wharton’s; a woman who was expected to be the +principal evidence on Mr. Wharton’s side. She had been his mistress; one +of those innumerable mistresses, to whom he had, of course, addressed +his transferable promises of eternal constancy. She too, of course, had +believed the vow, in spite of all experience and probability; and while +she pardoned his infidelities to her mistress, &c. all which she deemed +_very natural for a gentleman like him_, yet she was astonished and +outrageous when she found him faithless to her own charms. In a fit of +jealousy she flew to Mr. Russell, whom she knew to be Vivian’s friend; +and, to revenge herself on Wharton, revealed the secrets which she had +in her power; put into Russell’s hands the proofs of collusion between +Mr. Wharton and his wife; and took malicious pains to substantiate +her evidence, to a lawyer’s full satisfaction; knowing that she might +prevent the possibility of a divorce, and that she should thus punish +her perjured inconstant in the most sensible manner, by at once +depriving him of twenty thousand pounds damages, and by chaining him +again to a wife whom he abhorred. + +The same post which brought Vivian this woman’s deposition and Russell’s +letter brought Mrs. Wharton notice that the whole plan of collusion +was discovered: she was therefore prepared for Vivian’s reproaches, +and received the first burst of his astonishment and indignation with a +studied Magdalen expression of countenance: then she attempted a silly +apology, laying all the blame on her husband, and vowing that she had +acted under terror, and that her life would not have been safe in his +hands if she had not implicitly obeyed and executed his horrid plans. +She wept and kneeled in vain. Finding Vivian immoveable in his purpose +to return immediately to England, she suddenly rose from her knees, and, +all beautiful as she was, looked in Vivian’s eyes like a fiend, whilst, +with an unnatural smile, she said to him, “You see, fool as I am thought +to be, I have been too clever for _some people_; and I can tell Mr. +Wharton that I have been too clever for him too. His heart is set upon +a divorce; but he can’t have it. He can’t marry Miss P----, nor yet +her fortune, nor ever shall! I shall remain at Brussels--I have friends +here--and friends who were my friends before I was forced to give my +hand to Mr. Wharton, or my smiles to you, sir!--people who will not +tease me with talking of remorse and repentance, and such ungallant, +ungentlemanlike stuff; nor sit bewailing themselves, like a country +parson, instead of dashing out with me here in a fashionable style, as +a man of any spirit would have done. But you!--you’re neither good nor +bad; and no woman will ever love you, nor ever did. Now you know my +whole mind.” + +“Would to Heaven I had known it sooner!” said Vivian. “No--I rejoice +that I did not sooner know, and that I never could have suspected, such +depravity!--under such a form, too.” + +Mrs. Wharton’s eye glanced with satisfaction upon the large mirror +opposite to her. Vivian left her in utter disgust and horror. “Drive +on!” cried he, as he threw himself into the chaise that was to carry him +away; “Faster! faster!” + +The words, “and no woman will ever love you, nor ever, did,” rung upon +Vivian’s ear. “There she is mistaken, thank Heaven!” said he to himself: +yet the words still dwelt upon his mind, and gave him exquisite pain. +Upon looking again at Russell’s letter, he observed that Selina Sidney’s +name was never mentioned; that she was neither directly nor indirectly +alluded to in the whole letter. What omen to draw from this he could not +divine. Again he read it; and all that Russell said of public life, and +his exhortations to him to come and distinguish himself in public and in +the political world, struck him in a new light. It seemed as if Russell +was sensible that, there were no farther hopes of Selina, and that +therefore he tried to turn Vivian’s mind from love to ambition. Fourteen +times he read over this letter before he reached England; but he could +not discover from it any thing as to the point on which his heart was +most interested. He reached London in this, uncertainty. + +“Put me out of suspense, my best friend,” cried he, the moment he saw +Russell: “tell me, is Selina living?” + +“Yes--she has been very ill, but is now recovered--quite recovered, and +with your mother, who is grown fonder of her than ever she was.” + +“Selina alive! well! and with my mother!--and may I--I don’t mean may I +_now_,--but may I _ever_ hope?--Believe me, I feel myself capable of any +exertions, any forbearance, to obtain her forgiveness--to merit--May I +ever hope for it?--Speak!” + +Russell assured him that he need not dread Miss Sidney’s resentment, for +that she felt none; she had expressed pity more than anger--that she had +taken pains to sooth his mother; and had expressed sincere satisfaction +on hearing of his _release_ from his unworthy bondage, and at his return +home to his friends. + +The tone in which Russell spoke, and the seriousness and embarrassment +of his manner, alarmed Vivian inexpressibly. He stood silent, and +dared not ask farther explanation for some minutes.--At length he broke +silence, and conjured his friend to go immediately to Miss Sidney and +his mother, and to request permission for him to see them both in each +other’s presence. Russell said, that if Vivian insisted, he would comply +with his request; but that he advised him not to attempt to see Miss +Sidney at present; not till he had been some time in London--till he +had given some earnest of the steadiness of his conduct--till he had +appeared again, and distinguished himself in public life. “This might +raise you again in her esteem; and,” continued Russell, “you must be +aware that her love depends on her esteem--at least, that the one cannot +exist without the other.” + +“Will you deliver a letter to her from me?” said Vivian. “If you think +I had better not attempt to see her yet, you will deliver a letter for +me?” + +After some hesitation, or rather some deliberation, Russell answered, +in a constrained voice, “I will deliver your letter, if you insist upon +it.” + +Vivian wrote:--Russell undertook to deliver the letter, though with +evident reluctance. In the mean time Vivian went to see his mother, +whom he longed, yet dreaded to meet. Her manner was not now severe and +haughty, as when she last addressed him; but mild and benign: she held +out her hand to him, and said, “Thank God! my son is restored to me, and +to himself!” + +She could say no more; but embraced him tenderly. Russell had shown Lady +Mary that her son had been the dupe of a preconcerted scheme to work +upon his passions. She deplored his weakness, but she had been touched +by his sufferings; and was persuaded that his remorse would guard him +against future errors. Therefore not a word or look of reproach escaped +from her. When he spoke of Selina, Lady Mary, with great animation of +countenance and warmth of eulogium, declared, that it was the first wish +of her heart to see her son married to a woman of such a noble character +and angelic temper; “_but_,” added her ladyship, her manner changing +suddenly, as she pronounced the word _but_--before she could explain +the _but_, Russell came into the room, and told Vivian that Miss Sidney +desired to see him. Vivian heard the words with joy; but his joy +was checked by the great gravity and embarrassment of his friend’s +countenance, and by a sigh of ill omen from his mother. Eager to relieve +his suspense, he hastened to Selina, who, as Russell told him, was in +Lady Mary’s dressing-room--the room in which he had first declared his +passion for her. Hope and fear alternately seized him--fear prevailed +the moment that he beheld Selina. Not that any strong displeasure +appeared in her countenance--no, it was mild and placid; but it was +changed towards him, and its very serenity was alarming. Whilst she +welcomed him to his native country and to his friends, and while she +expressed hopes for his future happiness, all hope forsook him, and, +in broken sentences, he attempted to stammer out some answer; then, +throwing himself into a chair, he exclaimed, “I see all future happiness +is lost for me--and I deserve it!” + +“Do not reproach yourself,” said Selina in a sweet voice; but the voice, +though sweet, was so altered to him, that it threw him into despair. “It +is my wish, not to inflict, but to spare you pain. I have, therefore, +desired to see you as soon as possible, that you might not form false +expectations.” + +“Then you no longer love me, Selina? Now, after all I have suffered, you +have the cruelty to tell me so? And you, who could form my character to +every thing that is good and honourable; you, who alone could restore me +to myself--you reject, you cast me from you for ever?” + +“I have suffered much,” said Selina, in a trembling voice, “since we +parted.” + +Vivian’s eye quickly ran over her face and whole form as she spoke these +words; and he saw, indeed, traces of sickness and suffering: with the +idea of his power over her affections, his hopes revived; he seized the +feeble hand, which lay motionless; but she withdrew it decidedly, +and his hopes again forsook him, when she gently raised her head, and +continued to speak, “I have suffered much since we parted, Mr. Vivian; +and I hope you will spare me unnecessary and useless pain in this +interview: painful to a certain degree it must be to both of us; for I +cannot, even now that all feelings of passion have subsided, and that +the possibility of my being united to you is past, tell you so, with all +the composure which I had expected to do; nor with all the firmness of +voice and manner which is necessary, perhaps, to convince you of the +truth, and to restore your mind to itself.” + +“The possibility of my being united to you is past!--Why?” interrupted +Vivian, incapable of understanding or listening to any thing else, till +this question was answered. + +“Do not force me to what may seem like cruel reproach; but let it +suffice for me to say, that my sentiments have been so much altered by +a _year’s experience_, that it is impossible for me ever to become your +wife. My love was founded on esteem. I had, indeed, always fears of the +instability of your character; therefore, I put your resolution to the +proof: the event has proved to me that my fears were but too just. I +speak with difficulty; for I cannot easily give you so much pain as I +know that I am inflicting at this moment. But,” resumed she, in a more +resolute tone, “it is absolutely necessary for your future peace of +mind, as well as for my own, that I should convince you I am sincere, +perfectly sincere, at this moment; that I know my own heart; that my +determination has not been hastily formed, and cannot be altered. The +deliberate manner in which I now speak to you will, I hope, persuade you +of this truth. And if I have hesitated, or showed any agitation in this +interview, attribute it to its real cause--the weakness of my health; +feebleness of body, not of mind.” + +She rose to leave the room; but Vivian detained her, beseeching her, +with all the eloquence of passion in despair, to hear him but for +one moment; whilst he urged that there was no probability of his ever +relapsing into errors from which he had suffered so much; that now his +character was formed by adversity; and that such was the power which +Selina possessed over his heart, that a union with her would, at this +crisis, decide his fate; that her steadiness would give stability to +his resolutions; and that his gratitude would so increase his affection, +that he should have the strongest possible motives to make her a good +husband; that when he was happy in domestic life, he should feel every +energy of his mind revive; that he should exert all his powers to +distinguish himself, and to justify the choice of the woman he adored. + +In spite of the word _adored_, which has usually such power to confound +female judgment, Selina perceived that all he said was merely a +repetition of his former arguments, of which experience had proved the +insufficiency. She was aware that, if before marriage his resolution and +constancy had not been able to support the trial, it would be folly +or madness to marry him with the vague hope that she might reform his +character. She therefore continued steady to her resolution; and as she +found that Vivian’s disappointment was greater than she had expected, +she immediately withdrew from his mother’s house. The next morning, when +Vivian came to breakfast, after having spent a sleepless night, planning +new arguments or new intreaties in favour of his love, he found that +Miss Sidney was gone. His mother and his friend Russell joined in +representing to him that it would be useless to follow her, that it +would only give himself and Selina unavailing pain. Vivian felt this +stroke severely. His mind was, as it were, adrift again. After the first +violence of his feelings had spent itself, and when he sunk into that +kind of apathy which is the consequence of exhausted passion, his friend +Russell endeavoured to excite him to honourable ambition. Vivian caught +the idea, that if he distinguished himself in public life, and if he +there displayed any steadiness of character, he might win back Selina’s +esteem and affection. Fired with this hope, he immediately turned his +whole mind to the object; applied with indefatigable ardour, day and +night, to make himself master of the subjects likely to be discussed +in the ensuing session of parliament. At length his application and +his energy were crowned with success. On a question of considerable +political importance, which he had carefully considered, he made an +excellent speech; a speech which directly made him of consequence in +the house; which, in the language of the newspapers, “was received with +unbounded applause, was distinguished for strength of argument, lucid +order, and a happy choice of expression.” But what encouraged our hero +more than newspaper puffs or party panegyrics was the approbation of +his friend Russell. Russell never praised violently; but a few words, +or even a look of satisfaction from him, went farther than the most +exaggerated eulogiums from others. Vivian pursued his course for some +time with honour and increasing reputation. There was one man who never +joined in any of the compliments paid to the rising orator; there was +one man who always spoke of him with contempt, who pronounced that +“Vivian would never go far in politics--that it was not in him--that +he was too soft--_que c’étoit bâtir sur de la boue, que de compter sur +lui_.” This depreciator and enemy of Vivian was the man who, but a +few months before, had been his political _proneur_ and unblushing +flatterer, Mr. Wharton. Exasperated by the consciousness of his own +detected baseness, and provoked still more by his being frustrated in +all his schemes, Wharton now practised every art that a malicious and +unprincipled wit could devise to lower the opinion of Vivian’s talents, +and to prevent his obtaining either power or celebrity. Our hero was +stimulated by this conduct to fresh exertions. So far Wharton’s enmity +was of service to him; but it was of disservice, by changing, in some +measure, the purity of the motives from which he acted. With love and +honourable ambition now mixed hatred, thoughts of vengeance, views +of vulgar vanity and interest: he thought more of contradicting Mr. +Wharton’s prophecies than of fulfilling his own ideas of what was fair +and right. He was anxious to prove, that he could “_go far_ in politics, +that it was _in him_, that he was not too soft, and that it was not +building on mud to depend on him.” These indefinite expressions operated +powerfully and perniciously on his imagination. To prove that Wharton +was mistaken in his prognostics, it was necessary to our hero to obtain +the price and stamp of talents--it was essential to gain political +power; and this could not be attained without joining a party. Vivian +joined the party then in opposition. Wharton and he, though both in +opposition, of course, after what had passed, could never meet in any +private company; nor had they any communication in public, though on the +same side of the question: their enmity was so great, that not only +the business of the nation, but even the interests of their party, were +often impeded by their quarrels. In the midst of these disputes, Vivian +insensibly adopted more and more of the language and principles of the +public men with whom he daily associated. He began to hear and talk of +compensations and jobs, as they did; and to consider all measures +proved to be necessary for the support of his party as expedient, if +not absolutely right. His country could not be saved, unless he and his +friends could obtain the management of affairs; and no men, be found, +could gain parliamentary influence, or raise themselves into political +power, without _acting as a body_. Then, of course, all subordinate +points of right were to be sacrificed to the great good of promoting the +views of the party. Still, however, his patriotism was upon the whole +pure; he had no personal views of interest, no desire even to be in +place, independently of a wish to promote the good of his country. +Secret overtures were, about this time, made to him by government; and +inquiries were made if there was any thing which could gratify him, or +by which he could be induced to lay aside his opposition, and to assist +in supporting their measures. Many compliments to his talents and +eloquence, and all the usual _commonplaces_, about the expediency and +propriety of _strengthening the hands of government_, were, of course, +added. Something _specific_ was at length mentioned: it was intimated, +that as he was of an ancient family, it might gratify him that his +mother should be made a baroness in her own right. The offer was +declined, and the temptation was firmly withstood by our hero; his +credit was now at its _acme_ with his own coadjutors. Lady Mary +whispered the circumstance, as a state secret, to all her acquaintance; +and Russell took care that Miss Sidney should hear of it. + +Vivian was now cited as an incorruptible patriot. Wharton’s malice, and +even his wit, was almost silenced; yet he was heard to say, amidst the +din of applause, “This is only the first offer; he is in the right +to make a show of resistance: he will coquet for a time, and keep +_philandering_ on till he suits himself, and then he’ll jilt us, you’ll +see.” + +Such speeches, though they reached Vivian’s ear by the kind +officiousness of friends, were never made by Mr. Wharton so directly +that he could take hold of them; and Russell strenuously advised him +not to seek occasion to quarrel with a man who evidently desired only +to raise his own reputation by making Vivian angry, getting him in the +wrong, and forcing him into an imprudent duel. + +“Let your actions continue to contradict his words, and they can never +injure you,” said Russell. + +For some time Vivian adhered to his friend’s advice, and he proudly felt +the superiority of principle and character. But, alas! there was one +defence that his patriotism wanted--economy. Whilst he was thus active +in the public cause, and exulting in his disinterestedness, his private +affairs were getting into terrible disorder. The expense of building +his castle had increased beyond all his calculations--the expense of +his election--the money he had lost at play whilst he was in Wharton’s +society--the sums he had lent to Wharton--the money he had spent +abroad,--all these accumulated brought him to great difficulties: for +though his estate was considerable, yet it was so settled and tied +up that he could neither sell nor mortgage. His creditors became +clamorous--he had no means of satisfying or quieting them: an execution +was actually sent down to his castle, just as it was finished. Lady +Mary Vivian was in the greatest alarm and distress: she had no means of +extricating her son. As to his fashionable friends--no hopes from such +extravagant and selfish beings. What was to be done? At this critical +moment, the offers from _a certain quarter_ were renewed in another, +and, as it seemed, a more acceptable form,--a pension was proffered +instead of a title; and it was promised that the business should be so +managed, and the pension so held in another name, that nothing of the +transaction should transpire; and that his seceding from opposition +should be made to appear a change of sentiments from conviction, not +from interested motives. Vivian’s honourable feelings revolted from +these offers, and abhorred these subterfuges; but distress--pecuniary +distress! he had never before felt its pressure; he had never till +now felt how powerful, how compulsatory it is over even generous and +high-spirited souls. Whilst Vivian was thus oppressed with difficulties, +which his imprudence had brought upon him; whilst his mind was +struggling with opposing motives, he was, most fortunately for his +political integrity, relieved, partly by accident, and partly by +friendship. It happened that the incumbent of the rich living, of which +Vivian had the presentation, was dying just at this time; and Russell, +instead of claiming the living which Vivian had promised to him, +relinquished all pretensions to it, and insisted upon his friend’s +disposing of his right of presentation. The sum which this enabled +Vivian to raise was fully sufficient to satisfy the execution which had +been laid on his castle; and the less clamorous creditors were content +to be paid by instalments, annually, from his income. Thus he was saved +for the present; and he formed the most prudent resolves for the future. +He was most sincerely grateful to his disinterested friend. The full +extent of the sacrifice which Russell made him was not, however, known +at this time, nor for some years afterwards. + +But, without anticipation, let us proceed with our story. Amongst those +fashionable and political friends with whom our hero had, since his +return to England, renewed his connexion, was my Lord Glistonbury. His +lordship, far from thinking the worse of him for _his affair_ with Mrs. +Wharton, spoke of it in modish _slang_, as “a new and fine feather in +his cap;” and he congratulated Vivian upon his having “carried off the +prize without paying the price.” Vivian’s success as a parliamentary +orator had still further endeared him to his lordship, who failed not to +repeat, that he had always prophesied Vivian would make a capital figure +in public life; that Vivian was his member, &c. At the recess, Lord +Glistonbury insisted upon carrying Vivian down to spend the holidays +with him at Glistonbury Castle. + +“You must come, Vivian: so make your fellow put your worldly goods into +my barouche, which is at the door; and we are to have a great party at +Glistonbury, and private theatricals, and the devil knows what; and +you must see my little Julia act, and I must introduce you to _the +Rosamunda_. Come, come! you can’t refuse me!--Why, you have only a +bachelor’s castle of your own to go to; and that’s a dismal sort of +business, compared with what I have _in petto_ for you--‘the feast of +reason, and the flow of soul,’ in the first style, I assure you. +You must know, I always--even in the midst of the wildest of my wild +oats--had a taste for the belles-lettres, and philosophy, and the muses, +and the _literati,_ and so forth--always a touch of the Mecaenas about +me.--And now my boy’s growing up, it’s more particularly proper to bring +these sort of people about him; for, you know, clever men who have a +reputation can sound a flourish of trumpets advantageously before ‘a +Grecian youth of talents rare’ makes his appearance on the stage of +the great world--Ha! hey!--Is not this what one may call +prudence?--Ha!--Good to have a father who knows something of life, and +of books too, hey? Then, for my daughters, too--daughter, I mean; for +Lady Sarah’s Lady Glistonbury’s child: her ladyship and Miss Strictland +have manufactured her after their own taste and fashion; and I’ve +nothing to say to that--But my little Julia--Ah, I’ve got a different +sort of governess about her these few months past--not without family +battles, you may guess. But when Jupiter gives the nod, you know, even +Juno, stately as she is, must bend. So I have my Rosamunda for my little +Julia--who, by-the-bye, is no longer my _little_ Julia, but a prodigious +fine woman, as you shall see. But, all this time, is your fellow putting +your things up? No!--Hey? how? Oh, I understand your long face of +hesitation--you have not seen the ladies since the Wharton affair, and +you don’t know how they might look.--Never fear! Lady Glistonbury shall +do as I please, and look as I please. Besides, _entre nous_, I know she +hates the Whartons; so that her morality will have a loophole to creep +out of; and you’ll be safe and snug, whilst all the blame will be thrown +on them--Hey!--Oh, I understand things--pique myself on investigating +the human heart. Come, we have not a moment to lose; and you’ll have +your friend Russell, too--Come, come! to have and to hold, as the +lawyers say--” + +Seizing Vivian’s arm, Lord Glistonbury carried him off before he had +half understood all his lordship had poured forth so rapidly; and before +he had decided whether he wished or not to accept of this invitation. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +On his way to Glistonbury Castle, Vivian had full leisure to repent of +having accepted of this invitation, recollecting, as he did, all the +former reports about himself and Lady Sarah Lidhurst. He determined, +therefore, that his visit should be as short as possible; and the chief +pleasure he promised himself was the society of his friend Russell. + +On his arrival at the castle, he was told that Mr. Russell was out +riding; and that every body else was in the theatre at a rehearsal, +except Lady Glistonbury, the Lady Sarah, and Miss Strictland. He found +these three ladies sitting in form in the great deserted drawing-room, +each looking like a copy of the other, and all as if they were deploring +the degeneracy of the times. Vivian approached with due awe; but, to his +great surprise and relief, at his approach their countenances exhibited +some signs of life. Lord Glistonbury _presented_ him on his return +from abroad: Lady Glistonbury’s features relaxed to a smile, though she +seemed immediately to repent of it, and to feel it incumbent upon her to +maintain her rigidity of mien. Whilst she, and of course Miss Strictland +and the Lady Sarah, were thus embarrassed between the necessity of +reprobating the sin, and the desire of pleasing the sinner, Lord +Glistonbury ran on with one of his speeches, of borrowed sense and +original nonsense, and then would have carried him off to the rehearsal, +but Lady Glistonbury called Vivian back, begging, in her formal manner, +“that her lord would do her the favour to leave Mr. Vivian with her for +a few minutes, as it was so long since she had the pleasure of seeing +him at Glistonbury.” Vivian returned with as good a grace as he could; +and, to find means of breaking the embarrassing silence that ensued, +took up a book which lay upon the table, “Toplady’s Sermons”--no hope +of assistance from that: he had recourse to another--equally unlucky, +“Wesley’s Diary:” another--“The Pilgrim’s Progress.” He went no farther; +but, looking up, he perceived that the Lady Sarah was _motioned_ by her +august mother to leave the room. Vivian had again recourse to “Toplady.” + +“Very unfashionable books, Mr. Vivian,” said Miss Strictland, bridling +and smiling as in scorn. + +“Very unfashionable books!” repeated Lady Glistonbury, with the +same inflection of voice, and the same bridling and smiling. “Very +different,” continued her ladyship, “very different from what you have +been accustomed to see on _some_ ladies’ tables, no doubt, Mr. Vivian! +Without mentioning names, or alluding to transactions that ought to be +buried in eternal oblivion, and that are so very distressing to your +friends here to think of, sir, give me leave to ask, Mr. Vivian, whether +it be true what I have heard, that the prosecution, and every thing +relative to it, is entirely given up?” + +“Entirely, madam.” + +“Then,” said Lady Glistonbury, glancing her eye at Miss Strictland, +“_we_ may welcome Mr. Vivian with safe consciences to Glistonbury; and +since the affair will never become public, and since Lady Sarah knows +none of the improper particulars; and since she may, and, from her +education, naturally will, class all such things under the head of +impossibilities and false reports, of which people, in our rank of life +especially, are subject every hour to hear so many; there cannot, as I +am persuaded you will agree with me in thinking, Miss Strictland, be any +impropriety in our and Lady Sarah’s receiving Mr. Vivian again on the +same footing as formerly.” + +Miss Strictland bowed her formal assent: Vivian bowed, because he saw +that a bow was expected from him; and then he pondered on what might be +meant by the words, _on the same footing as formerly_; and he had just +framed a clause explanatory and restrictive of the same, when he was +interrupted by the sound of laughter, and of numerous, loud, and mingled +voices, coming along the gallery that led to the drawing-room. As +if these were signals for her departure, and as if she dreaded the +intrusion and contamination of the revel rout, Lady Glistonbury arose, +looked at her watch, pronounced her belief that it was full time for her +to go to dress, and retired through a Venetian door, followed by Miss +Strictland, repeating the same belief, and bearing her ladyship’s +tapestry work: her steps quickened as the door at the opposite end of +the room opened; and, curtsying (an unnecessary apology to Mr. Vivian) +as she passed, she left him _to himself_. And now, + + “He sees a train profusely gay, + Come pranckling o’er the place.” + +Some were dressed for comic, some for tragic characters; but all seemed +equally gay, and talked equally fast. There had been a dressed rehearsal +of “The Fair Penitent,” and of “The Romp;” and all the spectators and +all the actors were giving and receiving exuberant compliments. Vivian +knew many of the party,--some of them bel-esprits, some fashionable +amateurs; all pretenders to notoriety, either as judges or performers. +In the midst of this motley group, there was one figure who stood +receiving and expecting universal homage: she was dressed as “The Fair +Penitent;” but her affected vivacity of gesture and countenance was in +striking contrast to her tragic attire; and Vivian could hardly forbear +smiling at the _minauderies_ with which she listened and talked to the +gentlemen round her; now languishing, now coquetting; rolling her eyes, +and throwing herself into a succession of studied attitudes, dealing +repartees to this side and to that; and, in short, making the greatest +possible exhibition both of her person and her mind. + +“Don’t you know her? Did you never see her before?--No! +you’ve been out of England; but you’ve heard of her, +certainly?--_Rosamunda_,”--whispered Lord Glistonbury to Vivian. + +“And who is Rosamunda?” said Vivian; “an actress.” + +“Actress!--Hush!--Bless you! no--but the famous poetess. Is it possible +that you hav’n’t read the poems of Rosamunda?--They were in every body’s +hands a few months ago; but you were abroad--better engaged, or as well, +hey? But, as I was going to tell you, that’s the reason she’s called +_The Rosamunda_--I gave her the name, for I patronized her from the +first. Her real name is Bateman; and Lady Glistonbury and her set call +her Miss Bateman still, but nobody else. She’s an amazing clever +woman, I assure you--more genius than any of ‘em since the time of +Rousseau!--Devil of a salary!--and devil of a battle I had to fight with +some of my friends before I could fix her here; but I was determined I +would follow my own ideas in Julia’s education. Lady Glistonbury had +her way and her routine with Lady Sarah; and it’s all very well, vastly +well-- + + ‘Virtue for her too painful an endeavour, + Content to dwell in decencies for ever.’ + +You know the sort of thing! Yes, yes; but I was not content to have my +Julia lost among the _mediocres_, as I call them: so I took her out of +Miss Strictland’s hands; and the Rosamunda’s her governess.” + +“Her governess!” repeated Vivian, with uncontrollable astonishment; +“Lady Julia Lidhurst’s governess!” + +“Yes, you may well be surprised,” pursued Lord Glistonbury, mistaking +the cause of the surprise: “no one in England could have done it but +myself; she refused innumerable applications,--immense offers; and, +after all, you know, she does not appear as governess _titrée_--only +as a friend of the family, who directs Lady Julia Lidhurst’s literary +talents. Oh, you understand, a man of the world knows how to manage +these things--sacrifices always to the vanity of the sex, or the +pride, as the case may be, I never mind names, but things, as the +metaphysicians say--distinguish betwixt essentials and accidents--sound +philosophy that, hey? And, thank Heaven! a gentleman or a nobleman need +not apologize in these days for talking of philosophy before ladies, +even if any body overheard us, which, as it happens, I believe nobody +does. So let me, now that _you know your Paris_, introduce you to ‘The +Rosamunda.’--Mr. Vivian--the Rosamunda. Rosamunda--Mr. Vivian.” + +After Vivian had for a few minutes acted audience, very little to his +own satisfaction, he was relieved by Lord Glistonbury’s exclaiming, “But +Julia! where’s Julia all this time?” + +Rosamunda looked round, with the air of one interrupted by a frivolous +question which requires no answer; but some one less exalted, and more +attentive to the common forms of civility, told his lordship that Lady +Julia was in the gallery with her brother. Lord Glistonbury hurried +Vivian into the gallery. He was struck the moment he met Lady Julia +with the great change and improvement in her appearance. Instead of the +childish girl he had formerly seen flying about, full only of the frolic +of the present moment, he now saw a fine graceful woman with a striking +countenance that indicated both genius and sensibility. She was talking +to her brother with so much eagerness, that she did not see Vivian come +into the gallery; and, as he walked on towards the farther end, where +she was standing, he had time to admire her. + +“A fine girl, faith! though she is my daughter,” whispered Lord +Glistonbury; “and would you believe that she is only sixteen?” + +“Only sixteen!” + +“Ay: and stay till you talk to her--stay till you hear her--you will be +more surprised. Such genius! such eloquence! She’s my own girl. Well, +Julia, my darling!” cried he, raising his voice, “in the clouds, as +usual?” + +Lady Julia started--but it was a natural, not a theatric +start--colouring at the consciousness of her own absence of mind. She +came forward with a manner that apologized better than words could do, +and she received Mr. Vivian so courteously, and with such ingenuous +pleasure in her countenance, that he began to rejoice in having accepted +the invitation to Glistonbury; at the same instant, he recollected a +look which his mother had given him when he first saw Lady Julia on the +terrace of the castle. + +“Well, what was she saying to you, Lidhurst? hey! my boy?” + +“We were arguing, sir.” + +“Arguing! Ay, ay, she’s the devil for that!--words at will!--‘Persuasive +words, and more persuasive sighs!’ Ah, woman! woman for ever! always +talking us out of our senses! and which of the best of us would not +wish it to be so? ‘Oh! let me, let me be deceived!’ is the cream of +philosophy, epicurean and stoic--at least, that’s my creed. But to the +point: what was it about that she was holding forth so charmingly--a +book or a lover? A book, I’ll wager: she’s such a romantic little +fool, and so unlike other women: leaves all her admirers there in the +drawing-room, and stays out here, talking over musty books with her +brother. But come, what was the point? I will have it argued again +before me--Let’s see the book.” + +Lord Lidhurst pointed out a speech in “The Fair Penitent,” and said that +they had been debating about the manner in which it should be recited. +Lord Glistonbury called upon his daughter to repeat it: she showed +a slight degree of unaffected timidity at first; but when her +father stamped and bid her let him see no vulgar bashfulness, she +obeyed--recited charmingly--and, when urged by a little opposition from +her brother, grew warm in defence of her own opinion--displayed in its +support such sensibility, with such a flow of eloquence, accompanied +with such animated and graceful, yet natural gesture, that Vivian was +transported with sudden admiration. He was astonished at this early +development of feeling and intellect; and if, in the midst of his +delight, he felt some latent disapprobation of this display of talent +from so young a woman, yet he quickly justified her to himself, by +saying that he was not a stranger; that he had formerly been received +by her family on a footing of intimacy. Then he observed farther, in her +vindication, that there was not the slightest affectation or coquetry in +any of her words or motions; that she spoke with this eagerness not to +gain admiration, but because she was carried away by her enthusiasm, +and, thoughtless of herself, was eager only to persuade and to make +her opinions prevail. Such was the enchantment of her eloquence and her +beauty, that after a quarter of an hour spent in her company, our hero +did not know whether to wish that she had more sedateness and reserve, +or to rejoice that she was so animated and natural. Before he could +decide this point, his friend Russell returned from riding. After the +first greetings were over, Russell drew him aside, and asked, “Pray, my +dear Vivian, what brings you here?” + +“Lord Glistonbury--to whom I had not time to say no, he talked so fast. +But, after all, why should I say no? I am a free man--a discarded lover. +I am absolutely convinced that Selina Sidney’s refusal will never be +retracted; my mother, I know, is of that opinion. You suggested, that +if I distinguished myself in public life, and showed steadiness, I might +recover her esteem and affection; but I see no chance of it. My mother +showed me her last letter--no hopes from that--so I think it would +be madness, or folly, to waste my time, and wear out my feelings, in +pursuit of a woman, who, however amiable, is lost to me.” + +“Of that you are the best judge,” said Russell, gravely. “I am far from +wishing--from urging you to waste your time. Lady Mary Vivian must know +more of Miss Sidney, and be better able to judge of the state of her +heart than I can be. It would not be the part of a friend to excite you +to persevere in a pursuit that would end in disappointment; but +this much, before we quit the subject for ever, I feel it my duty to +say--that I think Miss Sidney the woman of all others the best suited to +your character, the most deserving of your love, the most calculated to +make you exquisitely and permanently happy.” + +“All that’s very true,” said Vivian, impatiently; “but, since I can’t +have her, why make me miserable about her?” + +“Am I to understand,” resumed Russell, after a long pause, “am I to +understand that, now you have regained your freedom, you come here with +the settled purpose of espousing the Lady Sarah Lidhurst?” + +“Heaven forfend!” cried Vivian, starting back. + +“Then I am to go over again, on this subject, with indefatigable +patience and in due logical order, all the arguments, moral, prudential, +and conventional, which I had the labour of laying before you about a +twelvemonth ago.” + +“Save yourself the trouble, my dear friend!” said Vivian; “I shall set +all that upon a right footing immediately, by speaking of the report +at once to some of the family. I was going to _rise to explain_ +this morning, when I was with Lady Glastonbury; but I felt a sort of +delicacy--it was an awkward time--and at that moment somebody came into +the room.” + +“Ay,” said Russell, “you are just like the hero of a novel, stopped from +saying what he ought to say by somebody’s coming into the room.--Awkward +time! Take care you don’t sacrifice yourself at last to these +_awkwardnesses_ and this sort of _delicacies_. I have still my fears +that you will get into difficulties about Lady Sarah.” + +Vivian could not help laughing at what he called his friend’s absurd +fears. + +“If you are determined, my dear Russell, at all events to fear for me, +I’ll suggest to you a more reasonable cause of dread. Suppose I should +fall desperately in love with Lady Julia!--I assure you there’s +some danger of that. She is really very handsome and very graceful; +uncommonly clever and eloquent--as to the rest, you know her--what is +she?” + +“All that you have said, and more. She might be made any thing--every +thing; an ornament to her sex--an honour to her country--were she +under the guidance of persons fit to direct great powers and a noble +character; but yet I cannot, Vivian, as your friend, recommend her to +you as a wife.” + +“I am not thinking of her as a wife,” said Vivian: “I have not had time +to think of her at all yet. But you said, just now, that in good hands +she might be made every thing that is good and great. Why not by a +husband, instead of a governess? and would not you call mine _good +hands_?” + +“Good, but not steady--not at all the husband fit to guide such a woman. +He must be a man not only of superior sense, but of superior strength of +mind.” + +Vivian was piqued by this remark, and proceeded to compare the fitness +of his character to _such_ a character as Lady Julia’s. Every moment he +showed more curiosity to hear further particulars of her disposition; of +the different characters of her governesses, and of all her relations; +but Russell refused to say more. He had told him what he was called +upon, as his friend, to reveal; he left the rest to Vivian’s own +observation and judgment. Vivian set himself to work to observe and +judge with all his might. + +He soon perceived that all Russell had told him of the mismanagement of +Lady Julia’s education was true. In this house there were two parties, +each in extremes, and each with their systems and practice carried to +the utmost excess. The partisans of the old and the new school were here +to be seen at daggers-drawing. Lady Glastonbury, abhorrent of what +she termed modern philosophy, and classing under that name almost +all science and literature, especially all attempts to cultivate the +understanding of women, had, with the assistance of her _double_, Miss +Strictland, brought up Lady Sarah in all the ignorance and all the +rigidity of the most obsolete of the old school; she had made Lady Sarah +precisely like herself; with virtue, stiff, dogmatical, and repulsive; +with religion, gloomy and puritanical; with manners, cold and automatic. +In the course of eighteen years, whilst Lady Glistonbury went on, like +clock-work, the same round, punctual to the letter but unfeeling of the +spirit of her duties, she contrived, even by the wearisome method of her +_minuted_ diary of education, to make her house odious to her husband. +Some task, or master, or hour of lesson, continually, and immitigably +plagued him: he went abroad for amusement, and found dissipation. +Thus, by her unaccommodating temper, and the obstinacy of her manifold +virtues, she succeeded in alienating the affections of her husband. In +despair he one day exclaimed, + + “Ah que de vertus vous me faites haïr;” + +and, repelled by virtue in this ungracious form, he flew to more +attractive vice. Finding that he could not have any comfort or solace +in the society of his wife, he sought consolation in the company of a +mistress. Lady Glistonbury had, in the mean time, her consolation +in being a pattern-wife; and in hearing that at card-tables it was +universally said, that Lord Glistonbury was the worst of husbands, and +that her ladyship was extremely to be pitied. In process of time, Lord +Glistonbury was driven to his home again by the united torments of a +virago mistress and the gout. It was at this period that he formed the +notion of being at once a political leader and a Mecaenas; and it was +at this period that he became acquainted with both his daughters, and +determined that his Julia should never resemble the Lady Sarah. He saw +his own genius in Julia; and he resolved, as he said, to give her fair +play, and to make her one of the wonders of the age. After some months’ +counteraction and altercation, Lord Glistonbury, with a high hand, took +_his_ daughter from under the control of Miss Strictland; and, in spite +of all the representations, prophecies, and denunciations of her mother, +consigned Julia to the care of a governess after his own heart--a Miss +Bateman; or, as he called her, _The Rosamunda_. From the moment this +lady was introduced into the family there was an irreconcileable breach +between the husband and wife. Lady Glistonbury was perfectly in the +right in her dread of such a governess as Miss Bateman for her daughter. +Her ladyship was only partially and accidentally right: right in point +of fact, but wrong in the general principle; for she objected to Miss +Bateman, as being of the class of literary women; to her real faults, +her inordinate love of admiration, and romantic imprudence, Lady +Glistonbury did not object, because she did not at first know them; and +when she did, she considered them but as necessary consequences of +the _cultivation and enlargement of Miss Bateman’s understanding_. “No +wonder!” her ladyship would say; “I knew it must be so; I knew it could +not be otherwise. All those clever women, as they are called, are the +same. This _comes_ of literature and literary ladies.” + +Thus moralizing in private with Miss Strictland and her own small party, +Lady Glistonbury appeared silent and passive before her husband and +his adherents. After prophesying how it all must end in the ruin of her +daughter Julia, she declared that she would never speak on this subject +again: she showed herself ready, with maternal resignation, and in +silent obduracy, to witness the completion of the sacrifice of her +devoted child. + +Lord Glistonbury was quite satisfied with having silenced opposition. +His new governess, established in her office, and with full and +unlimited powers, went on triumphant and careless of her charge; she +thought of little but displaying her own talents in company. The castle +was consequently filled with crowds of amateurs; novels and plays were +the order of the day; and a theatre was fitted up, all in open defiance +of poor Lady Glistonbury. The daughter commenced her new course of +education by being taught to laugh at her mother’s prejudices. Such was +the state of affairs when Vivian commenced his observations; and all +this secret history he learnt by scraps, and hints, and inuendoes, from +very particular friends of both parties--friends who were not troubled +with any of Mr. Russell’s scruples or discretion. + +Vivian’s attention was now fixed upon Lady Julia; he observed with +satisfaction, that, notwithstanding her governess’s example and +excitement, Lady Julia did not show any exorbitant desire for +general admiration; and that her manners were free from coquetry and +affectation: she seemed rather to disdain the flattery, and to avoid +both the homage and the company of men who were her inferiors in mental +qualifications; she addressed her conversation principally to Vivian and +his friend Russell; with them, indeed, she conversed a great deal, +with much eagerness and enthusiasm, expressing all her opinions without +disguise, and showing on most occasions more imagination than reason, +and more feeling than judgment. Vivian perceived that it was soon +suspected by many of their observers, and especially by Lady Glistonbury +and the Lady Sarah, that Julia had a design upon his heart; but he +plainly discerned that she had no design whatever to captivate him; and +that though she gave him so large a share of her company, it was without +thinking of him as a lover: he saw that she conversed with him and Mr. +Russell, preferably to others, because they spoke on subjects which +interested her more; and because they drew out her brother, of whom +she was very fond. Her being capable, at so early an age, to appreciate +Russell’s character and talents; her preferring his solid sense and his +plain sincerity to the brilliancy, the _fashion_, and even the gallantry +of all the men whom her father had now collected round her, appeared +to Vivian the most unequivocal proof of the superiority of her +understanding and of the goodness of her disposition. On various +occasions, he marked with delight the deference she paid to his friend’s +opinion, and the readiness with which she listened to reason from +him--albeit unused and averse from reason in general. Impatient as +she was of control, and confident, both in her own powers and in her +instinctive moral sense (about which, by-the-bye, she talked a great +deal of eloquent nonsense), yet a word or a look from Mr. Russell would +reclaim her in her highest flights. Soon after Vivian commenced his +observations upon this interesting subject, he saw an instance of what +Russell had told him of the ease with which Lady Julia might be guided +by a man of sense and strength of mind. + +The tragedy of “The Fair Penitent,” Calista by Miss Bateman, was +represented with vast applause to a brilliant audience at the +Glistonbury theatre. The same play was to be reacted a week afterwards +to a fresh audience--it was proposed that Vivian should play Lothario, +and that Lady Julia should play Calista: Miss Bateman saw no objection +to this proposal: Lord Glistonbury might, perhaps, have had the parental +prudence to object to his daughter’s appearing in public at her age, +in such a character, before a mixed audience: but, unfortunately, Lady +Glistonbury bursting from her silence at this critical moment, said so +much, and in such a prosing and puritanical manner, not only against her +daughter’s acting in this play, and in these circumstances, but against +all _stage plays_, playwrights, actors, and actresses whatsoever, +denouncing and anathematizing them all indiscriminately; that +immediately Lord Glistonbury laughed--Miss Bateman took fire--and it +became a trial of power between the contending parties. Lady Julia, who +had but lately escaped from the irksomeness of her mother’s injudicious +and minute control, dreaded, above all things, to be again subjected +to her and Miss Strictland; therefore, without considering the real +propriety or impropriety of the point in question, without examining +whether Miss Bateman was right or wrong in the licence she had granted, +Lady Julia supported her opinion warmly; and, with all her eloquence, at +once asserted her own liberty, and defended the cause of the theatre +in general. She had heard Mr. Russell once speak of the utility of +a well-regulated public stage; of the influence of good theatric +representations in forming the taste and rousing the soul to virtue: he +had shown her Marmontel’s celebrated letter to Rousseau on this subject; +consequently, she thought she knew what his opinion must be on +the present occasion: therefore she spoke with more than her usual +confidence and enthusiasm. Her eloquence and her abilities transported +her father and most of her auditors, Vivian among the rest, with +astonishment and admiration: she enjoyed, at this moment, what the +French call _un grand succès_; but, in the midst of the buzz of +applause, Vivian observed that her eye turned anxiously upon Russell, +who stood silent, and with a disapproving countenance. + +“I am sure your friend, Mr. Russell, is displeased at this instant--and +with me.--I must know why.--Let us ask him.--Do bring him here.” + +Immediately she disengaged herself from all her admirers, and, making +room for Mr. Russell beside her, waited, as she said, to hear from him +_ses vérités_. Russell would have declined speaking, but her ladyship +appealed earnestly and urgently for his opinion, saying, “Who will speak +the truth to me if you will not? On whose judgment can I rely if not +on yours?--You direct my brother’s mind to every thing that is wise and +good; direct mine: I am as desirous to do right as he can be: and you +will find me--self-willed and volatile, as I know you think me--you will +find me a docile pupil. Then tell me frankly--did I, just now, speak too +much or too warmly? I thought I was speaking your sentiments, and that I +_must_ be right. But perhaps it was not right for a woman, or so young +a woman as I am, to support even just opinions so resolutely. And yet +is it a crime to be young?--And is the honour of maintaining truth to +be monopolized by age?--No, surely; for Mr. Russell himself has not that +claim to stand forth, as he so often does, in its defence. If you think +that I ought not to act Calista; if you think that I had better not +appear on the stage at all, only say so!--All I ask is your opinion; the +advantage of your judgment. And you see, Mr. Vivian, how difficult it is +to obtain it!--But his friend, probably, never felt this difficulty!” + +With a degree of sober composure, which almost provoked Vivian, Mr. +Russell answered this animated lady. And with a sincerity which, +though politely shown, Vivian thought severe and almost cruel, Russell +acknowledged that her ladyship had anticipated some, but not all of his +objections. He represented that she had failed in becoming respect to +her mother, in thus publicly attacking and opposing her opinions, even +supposing them to be ill-founded; and declared that, as to the case in +discussion, he was entirely of Lady Glistonbury’s opinion, that it would +be unfit and injurious to a young lady to exhibit herself, even on a +private stage, in the character in which it had been proposed that Lady +Julia should appear. + +Whilst Russell spoke, Vivian was charmed with the manner in which Lady +Julia listened: he thought her countenance enchantingly beautiful, +alternately softened as it was by the expression of genuine humility, +and radiant with candour and gratitude. She made no reply, but +immediately went to her mother; and, in the most engaging manner +acknowledged that she had been wrong, and declared that she was +convinced it would be improper for her to act the character she had +proposed. With that cold haughtiness of mien, the most repulsive to +a warm and generous mind, the mother turned to her daughter, and said +that, for her part, she had no faith in sudden conversions, and starts +of good conduct made little impression upon her; that, as far as she +was herself concerned, she forgave, as in charity it became her, all +the undutiful insolence with which she had been treated; that, as to +the rest, she was glad to find, for Lady Julia’s own sake, that she had +given up her strange, and, as she must say, _scandalous_ intentions. +“However,” added Lady Glistonbury, “I am not so sanguine as to consider +this as any thing but a respite from ruin; I am not so credulous as to +believe in sudden reformations; nor, despicable as you and my lord do +me the honour to think my understanding--am I to be made the dupe of a +little deceitful fondling!” + +Julia withdrew her arms, which she had thrown round her mother; and Miss +Strictland, after breaking her netting silk with a jerk of indignation, +observed, that, for her part, she wondered young ladies should go to +consult their brother’s tutor, instead of more suitable, and, perhaps, +as competent advisers. Lady Julia, now indignant, turned away, and was +withdrawing from before the triumvirate, when Lady Sarah, who had sat +looking, even more stiff and constrained than usual, suddenly broke from +her stony state, and, springing forward, exclaimed, “Stay, Julia!--Stay, +my dear sister!--Oh, Miss Strictland! do my sister justice!--When Julia +is so candid, so eager to do right, intercede for her with my mother!” + +“First, may I presume to ask,” said Miss Strictland, drawing herself up +with starch malice; “first, may I presume to ask, whether Mr. Vivian, +upon this occasion, declined to act Lothario?” + +“Miss Strictland, you do not do my sister justice!” cried Lady Sarah: +“Miss Strictland, you are wrong--very wrong!” + +Miss Strictland, for a moment struck dumb with astonishment, opening +her eyes as far as they could open, stared at Lady Sarah, and, after +a pause, exclaimed, “Lady Sarah! I protest I never saw any thing that +surprised me so much in my whole life!----Wrong!--very wrong!--I?----My +Lady Glistonbury, I trust your ladyship----” + +Lady Glistonbury, at this instant, showed, by a little involuntary +shake of her head, that she was inwardly perturbed: Lady Sarah, +throwing herself upon her knees before her mother, exclaimed, +“Oh, madam!--mother! forgive me if I failed in respect to Miss +Strictland!----But, my sister! my sister----!” + +“Rise, Sarah, rise!” said Lady Glistonbury; “that is not a fit +attitude!--And you are wrong, very wrong, to fail in respect to Miss +Strictland, my second self, Sarah. Lady Julia Lidhurst, it is you who +are the cause of this--the only failure of duty your sister ever was +guilty of towards me in the whole course of her life--I beg of you to +withdraw, and leave me my daughter Sarah.” + +“At least, I have found a sister, and when I most wanted it,” said Lady +Julia. “I always suspected you loved me, but I never knew how much till +this moment,” added she, turning to embrace her sister; but Lady Sarah +had now resumed her stony appearance, and, standing motionless, received +her sister’s embrace without sign of life or feeling. + +“Lady Julia Lidhurst,” said Miss Strictland, “you humble yourself in +vain: I think your mother, my Lady Glistonbury, requested of you to +leave your sister, Lady Sarah, to us, and to her duty.” + +“Duty!” repeated Lady Julia, her eyes flashing indignation: “Is this +what you call _duty_?--Never will I humble myself before you again--I +_will_ leave you--I do leave you--now and for ever--DUTY!” + +She withdrew:--and thus was lost one of the fairest occasions +of confirming a young and candid mind in prudent and excellent +dispositions. After humbling herself in vain before a mother, this poor +young lady was now to withstand a father’s reproaches; and, after the +inexorable Miss Strictland, she was to encounter the exasperated Miss +Bateman. Whether the Gorgon terrors of one governess, or the fury +passions of the other, were most formidable, it was difficult to decide. +Miss Bateman had written an epilogue for Lady Julia to recite in the +character of Calista; and, with the combined irritability of authoress +and governess, she was enraged at the idea of her pupil’s declining to +repeat these favourite lines. Lord Glistonbury cared not for the lines; +but, considering his own authority to be impeached by his daughter’s +resistance, he treated _his Julia_ as a traitor to his cause, and a +rebel to his party. + +But Lady Julia was resolute in declining to play Calista; and Vivian +admired the spirit and steadiness of her resistance to the solicitations +and the flattery with which she was assailed by the numerous hangers-on +of the family, and by the amateurs assembled at Glistonbury. Russell, +who knew the warmth of her temper, however, dreaded that she should +pass the bounds of propriety in the contest with her father and her +governess; and he almost repented having given any advice upon the +subject. The contest happily terminated in Lord Glistonbury’s having a +violent fit of the gout, which, as the newspapers informed the public, +“ended for the season the Christmas hospitalities and theatrical +festivities at Glistonbury Castle!” + +Whilst his lordship suffered this fit of torture, his daughter Julia +attended him with so much patience and affection, that he forgave +her for not being willing to be Calista; and, upon his recovery, he +announced to Miss Bateman that it was his will and pleasure that his +daughter Julia should do as she liked on this point, but that he desired +it to be understood that this was no concession to Lady Glistonbury’s +prejudices, but an act of his own pure grace. + +To celebrate his recovery, his lordship determined to give a ball; and +Miss Bateman persuaded him to make it a _fancy ball_. In this family, +unfortunately, every occurrence, even every proposal of amusement, +became a subject of dispute and a source of misery. Lady Glistonbury, +as soon as her lord announced his intention of giving this fancy ball, +declined taking the direction of an entertainment which approached, +she said, too near to the nature of a masquerade to meet her ideas of +propriety. Lord Glistonbury laughed, and tried the powers of ridicule +and wit: + +“But on th’impassive ice the lightnings play’d.” + +The lady’s cool obstinacy was fully a match for her lord’s petulance: to +all he could urge, she repeated, “that such entertainments did not meet +her ideas of propriety.” Her ladyship, Lady Sarah, and Miss Strictland, +consequently declared it to be their resolution, “to appear in their own +proper characters, and their own proper dresses, and no others.” + +These three rigid seceders excepted, all the world at Glistonbury +Castle, and within its sphere of attraction, were occupied with +preparations for this ball. Miss Bateman was quite in her element, +flattered and flattering, consulting and consulted, in the midst +of novels, plays, and poetry, prints, and pictures, searching for +appropriate characters and dresses. This preceptress seemed to think +and to expect that others should deem her office of governess merely a +subordinate part of her business: she considered her having accepted +of the superintendence of the education of Lady Julia Lidhurst as a +prodigious condescension on her part, and a derogation from her rank +and pretensions in the literary and fashionable world; a peculiar and +sentimental favour to Lord Glistonbury, of which his lordship was bound +in honour to show his sense, by treating her as a member of his family, +not only with distinguished politeness, but by _deferring_ to her +opinion in all things, so as to prove to her satisfaction that she was +considered _only_ as a friend, and not at all as a governess. Thus she +was raised as much above that station in the family in which she could +be useful, as governesses in other houses have been sometimes depressed +below their proper rank. Upon this, as upon all occasions, Miss Bateman +was the first person to be thought of--her character and her dress were +the primary points to be determined; and they were points of no +easy decision, she having proposed for herself no less than five +characters--the fair Rosamond, Joan of Arc, Cleopatra, Sigismunda, and +Circe. After minute consideration of the dresses, which, at a fancy +ball, were to constitute these characters, fair Rosamond was rejected, +“because the old English dress muffled up the person too much; Joan of +Arc would find her armour inconvenient for dancing; Cleopatra’s diadem +and royal purple would certainly be truly becoming, but then her regal +length of train was as inadmissible in a dancing-dress as Joan of +Arc’s armour.” Between Sigismunda and Circe, Miss Bateman’s choice long +vibrated. The Spanish and the Grecian costume had each its claims on her +favour: for she was assured they both became her remarkably. Vivian was +admitted to the consultation: he was informed that there must be both a +Circe and a Sigismunda; and that Lady Julia was to take whichever of +the two characters Miss Bateman declined. Pending the deliberation, Lady +Julia whispered to Vivian, “For mercy’s sake! contrive that I may not be +doomed to be Circe; for Circe is no better than Calista.” + +Vivian was charmed with her ladyship’s delicacy and discretion; he +immediately decided her governess, by pointing out the beautiful +head-dress of Flaxman’s Circe, and observing that Miss Bateman’s hair +(which was a wig) might easily be arranged, so as to produce the +same effect. Lady Julia rewarded Vivian for this able and successful +manoeuvre by one of her sweetest smiles. Her smiles had now powerful +influence over his heart. He rebelled against Russell’s advice, to take +more time to consider how far his character was suited to hers: he was +conscious, indeed, that it would be more prudent to wait a little longer +before he should declare his passion, as Lady Julia was so very young +and enthusiastic, and as her education had been so ill managed; but he +argued that the worse her education, and the more imprudent the +people about her, the greater was her merit in conducting herself with +discretion, and in trying to restrain her natural enthusiasm. Russell +acknowledged this, and gave all due praise to Lady Julia; yet still he +represented that Vivian had been acquainted with her so short time that +he could not be a competent judge of her temper and disposition, even +if his judgment were cool; but it was evident that his passions were now +engaged warmly in her favour. All that Russell urged for delay so far +operated, however, upon Vivian, that he adopted a half measure, and +determined to try what chance he might have of pleasing her before he +should either declare his love to her ladyship, or make his proposal to +her father. A favourable opportunity soon occurred. On the day appointed +for the fancy ball, the young Lord Lidhurst, who was to be Tancred, was +taken ill of a feverish complaint: he was of a very weakly constitution, +and his friends were much alarmed by his frequent indispositions. His +physicians ordered quiet; he was confined to his own apartment; and +another Tancred was of course to be sought for: Vivian ventured to offer +to assume the character; and his manner, when he made this proposal +to his fair Sigismunda, though it was intended to be merely polite and +gallant, was so much agitated, that she now, for the first time, +seemed to perceive the state of his heart. Colouring high, her ladyship +answered, with hesitation unusual to her, “that she believed--she +fancied--that is, she understood from her brother--that he had deputed +Mr. Russell to represent Tancred in his place.” + +Vivian was not displeased by this answer: the change of colour and +evident embarrassment appeared to him favourable omens; and he thought +that whether the embarrassment arose from unwillingness to let any man +but her brother’s tutor, a man domesticated in the family, appear as her +Tancred, or whether she was afraid of offending Mr. Russell, by changing +the arrangement her brother had made; in either case Vivian felt ready, +though a man in love, to approve of her motives. As to the rest, he was +certain that Russell would decline the part assigned him; and, as Vivian +expected, Russell came in a few minutes to resign his pretensions, or +rather to state that though Lord Lidhurst had proposed it, he had never +thought of accepting the honour; and that he should, in all probability, +not appear at the ball, because he was anxious to stay as much as +possible with Lord Lidhurst, whose indisposition increased instead of +abating. Lord Glistonbury, after this explanation, came in high spirits, +and with much satisfaction in his countenance and manner, said he +was happy to hear that his Sigismunda was to have Mr. Vivian for her +Tancred. So far all was prosperous to our hero’s hopes. + +But when he saw Lady Julia again, which was not till dinner time, he +perceived an unfavourable alteration in her manner; not the timidity +or embarrassment of a girl who is uncertain whether she is or is not +pleased, or whether she should or should not appear to be pleased by the +first approaches of a new lover; but there was in her manner a decided +haughtiness, and an unusual air of displeasure and reserve. Though he +sat beside her, and though in general her delightful conversation had +been addressed either to him or Mr. Russell, they were now both deprived +of this honour; whatever she said, and all she said, was unlike herself, +was directed to persons opposite to her, even to the captain, the +lawyer, and the family parasites, whose existence she commonly seemed +to forget. She ate as well as spoke in a hurried manner, and as if in +defiance of her feelings. Whilst the courses were changing, she +turned towards Mr. Vivian, and after a rapid examining glance at his +countenance, she said, in a low voice--“You must think me, Mr. Vivian, +very unreasonable and whimsical, but I have given up all thoughts of +being Sigismunda. Will you oblige me so far as not to appear in +the dress of Tancred to-night? You will thus spare me all farther +difficulty. You know my mother and sister have declared their +determination not to wear any fancy dress; and though my father is +anxious that I should, I believe it may be best that, in this instance, +I follow my own judgment.--May I expect that you will oblige me?” + +Vivian declared his entire submission to her ladyship’s judgment: and +he now was delighted to be able to forgive her for all seeming caprice; +because he thought he saw an amiable motive for her conduct--the wish +not to displease her mother, and not to excite the jealousy of her +sister. + +The hour when the ball was to commence arrived; the room filled with +company; and Vivian, who flattered himself with the pleasure of dancing +all night with Lady Julia, as the price of his prompt obedience, looked +round the room in search of his expected partner, but he searched +in vain. He looked to the door at every new entrance--no Lady Julia +appeared. Circe, indeed, was every where to be seen and heard, and an +uglier Circe never touched this earth; but she looked happily confident +in the power of her charms. Whilst she was intent upon fascinating +Vivian, he was impatiently waiting for a moment’s intermission of her +volubility, that he might ask what had become of Lady Julia. + +“Lady Julia?--She’s somewhere in the room, I suppose.--Oh! no: I +remember, she told me she would go and sit a quarter of an hour with her +brother. She will soon make her appearance, I suppose; but I am so angry +with her for disappointing us all, and you in particular, by changing +her mind about Sigismunda!--Such a capital Tancred as you would have +made! and now you are no character at all! But then, you are only on a +par with certain ladies. Comfort yourself with the great Pope’s (I fear +too true) reflection, that + + ‘Most women have no characters at all.’” + +Miss Bateman’s eye glanced insolently, as she spoke, upon Lady +Glistonbury’s trio, who passed by at this instant, all without fancy +dresses. Vivian shocked by this ill-breeding towards the mistress of the +house, offered his arm immediately to Lady Glistonbury, and conducted +her with Lady Sarah and Miss Strictland to their proper places, where, +having seated themselves, each in the same attitude precisely, they +looked more like martyrs prepared for endurance, than like persons in a +ball-room. Vivian stayed to speak a few words to Lady Glistonbury, and +was just going away, when her ladyship, addressing him with more than +her usual formality, said, “Mr. Vivian, I see, has not adopted the +fashion of the day; and as he is the only gentleman present, whose fancy +dress does not proclaim him engaged to some partner equally _fanciful_, +I cannot but wish that my daughter, Lady Sarah, should, if she dance at +all to-night, dance with a gentleman in his own proper character.” + +Vivian, thus called upon, felt compelled to ask the honour of Lady +Sarah’s hand; but he flattered himself, that after the first dance he +should have done his duty, and that he should be at liberty by the time +Julia should make her appearance. But, to his great disappointment, +Mr. Russell, who came in just as he had finished the first two dances, +informed him that Lady Julia was determined not to appear at the ball, +but to stay with her brother, who wished for her company. So poor Vivian +found himself doomed to be Lady Sarah’s partner for the remainder of the +night. It happened that, as he was handing her ladyship to supper, in +passing through an antechamber where some of the neighbours of inferior +rank had been permitted to assemble to see _the show_, he heard one +farmer’s wife say to another, “Who _beas_ that there, that’s handing of +Lady Sarah?”--They were detained a little by the crowd, so that he had +time to hear the whole answer.--“Don’t you know?” was the answer. “That +there gentleman is Mr. Vivian of the new castle, that is to be married +to her directly, and that’s what he’s come here for; for they’ve been +engaged to one another ever since the time o’ the election.” + +This speech disturbed our hero’s mind considerably; for it awakened a +train of reflections which he had wilfully left dormant. Will it, can it +be believed, that after all his friend Russell’s exhortations, after +his own wise resolutions, he had never yet made any of those explanatory +speeches he had intended? + +“Positively,” said he to himself, “this report shall not prevail +four-and-twenty hours longer. I will propose for Lady Julia +Lidhurst before I sleep. Russell, to be sure, advises me not to be +precipitate--to take more time to study her disposition; but I am +acquainted with her sufficiently;” (he should have said, I am in +love with her sufficiently;) “and really now, I am bound in honour +immediately to declare myself--it is the best possible way of putting a +stop to a report which will be ultimately injurious to Lady Sarah.” + +Thus Vivian made his past irresolution an excuse for his present +precipitation, flattering himself, as men often do when they are +yielding to the impulse of their passions, that they are submitting +to the dictates of reason. At six o’clock in the morning the company +dispersed. Lord Glistonbury and Vivian were the last in the ball-room. +His lordship began some raillery upon our hero’s having declined +appearing as Tancred, and upon his having devoted himself all night to +Lady Sarah. Vivian seized the moment to explain his real feelings, +and he made his proposal for Lady Julia. It was received with warm +approbation by the father, who seemed to rejoice the more in this +proposal, because he knew that it would disappoint and mortify Lady +Glistonbury. The interests of his hatred seemed, indeed, to occupy his +lordship more than the interests of Vivian’s love; but politeness threw +a decent veil over these feelings; and, after saying all that could be +expected of the satisfaction it must be to a father to see his daughter +united to a man of Mr. Vivian’s family, fortune, talents, and +great respectability; and after having given, incidentally and +parenthetically, his opinions, not only concerning matrimony, but +concerning all other affairs of human life, he wished his future +son-in-law a very good night, and left him to repose. But no rest could +Vivian take--he waited with impatience, that made every hour appear at +least two, for the time when he was again to meet Lady Julia. He saw her +at breakfast; but he perceived by her countenance that she as yet knew +nothing of his proposal. After breakfast Lord Glistonbury said, “Come +with me, my little Julia! it is a long time since I’ve had a walk and a +talk with you.” His lordship paced up and down the terrace, conversing +earnestly with her for some time: he then went on to some labourers, +who were cutting down a tree at the farther end of the avenue. Vivian +hastened out to meet Lady Julia, who, after standing deep in thought for +some moments, seemed returning towards the castle. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +“Mr. Vivian, I trust that I am not deficient in maidenly modesty,” + said Lady Julia, “when it is not incompatible with what I deem a higher +virtue--sincerity. Now and ever, frankness is, and shall be, my +only policy. The confidence I am about to repose in you, sir, is the +strongest proof of my esteem, and of the gratitude I feel for your +attachment.--My heart is no longer in my power to bestow. It is--young +as I am, I dare to pronounce the words--irrevocably fixed upon one who +will do honour to my choice. Your proposal was made to my father--Why +was it not made to me?--Men--all men but one--treat women as puppets, +and then wonder that they are not rational creatures!--Forgive me this +too just reproach. But, as I was going to say, your proposal has +thrown me into great difficulties--the greater because my father warmly +approves of it. I have a strong affection for him; and, perhaps, a +year or two ago, I should, in the ignorance in which I was dogmatically +brought up, have thought it my duty to submit implicitly to parental +authority, and to receive a husband from the hands of a father, without +consulting either my own heart or my own judgment. But, since my mind +has been more enlightened, and has opened to higher views of the dignity +of my sex, and higher hopes of happiness, my ideas of duty have altered; +and, I trust, I have sufficient courage to support my own idea of the +rights of my sex, and my firm conviction of what is just and becoming.” + +Vivian was again going to say something; but, whether against or in +favour of the rights of the sex, he had not clearly decided; when her +ladyship saved him the trouble, by proceeding with the train of her +ideas. + +“My sincerity towards my father will, perhaps, cost me dear; but I +cannot repent of it. As soon as I knew the state of my own heart--which +was not till very lately--which was not, indeed, till you gave me reason +to think you seriously liked me--I openly told my father all I knew of +my own heart. Would you believe it?--I am sure I should not, unless +I had seen and felt it--my father, who, you know, professes the most +liberal opinions possible; my father, who, in conversation is ‘All for +love, and the world well lost;’ my father, who let Miss Bateman put the +Heloise into my hands, was astonished, shocked, indignant, at his own +daughter’s confession, I should say, assertion of her preference of a +man of high merit, who wants only the advantages, if they be advantages, +of rank and fortune. + +“Mr. Vivian,” continued she, “may I hope that now, when you must be +convinced of the inefficacy of any attempt either to win or to control +my affections, you will have the generosity to spare me all unnecessary +contest with my father? It must render him more averse from the only +union that can make his daughter happy; and it may ruin the fortunes +of--the first, in my opinion, of human beings. I will request another +favour from you--and let my willingness to be obliged by you convince +you that I appreciate your character--I request that you will not only +keep secret all that I have said to you; but that, if accident, or +your own penetration, should hereafter discover to you the object of my +affection, you will refrain from making any use of that discovery to my +disadvantage. You see how entirely I have thrown myself on your honour +and generosity.” + +Vivian assured her that the appeal was powerful with him; and that, by +mastering his own passions, and sacrificing his feelings to hers, he +would endeavour to show his strong desire to secure, at all events, her +happiness. + +“You are truly generous, Mr. Vivian, to listen to me with indulgence, to +wish for my happiness, whilst I have been wounding your feelings. But, +without any impeachment of your sincerity, or yet of your sensibility, +let me say, that yours will be only a transient disappointment. Your +acquaintance with me is but of yesterday, and the slight impression made +on your mind will soon be effaced; but upon my mind there has been time +to grave a deep, a first charactery of love, that never, whilst memory +holds her seat, can be erased.--I believe,” said Julia, checking +herself, whilst a sudden blush overspread her countenance--“I am +afraid that I have said too much, too much for a woman. The fault of +my character, I know, I have been told, is the want of what is called +RESERVE.” + +Blushing still more deeply as she pronounced these last words, the +colour darting up to her temples, spreading over her neck, and making +its way to the very tips of her fingers, “Now I have done worse,” cried +she, covering her face with her hands. But the next moment, resuming, +or trying to resume her self-possession, she said, “It is time that I +should retire, now that I have revealed my whole heart to you. It has, +perhaps, been imprudently opened; but for that, your generosity, sir, +is to blame. Had you shown more selfishness, I should assuredly have +exerted more prudence, and have treated you with less confidence.” + +Lady Julia quitted him, and Vivian remained in a species of amaze, from +which he could not immediately recover. Her frankness, her magnanimity, +her enthusiastic sensibility, her eloquent beauty, had altogether +exalted, to the highest ecstasy, his love and admiration. Then he walked +about, beating his breast in despair at the thought of her affections +being irrecoverably engaged,--next quarrelled with the boldness of the +confession, the _assertion_ of her love--then decided, that, with all +her shining qualities and noble dispositions, she was not exactly the +woman a man should desire for a wife: there was something too rash, too +romantic about her; there was in her character, as she herself had +said, and as Russell had remarked, too little _reserve_. Something like +jealousy and distrust of his friend arose in Vivian’s mind: “What!” said +he to himself, “and is Russell my rival? and has he been all this time +in secret my rival? Is it possible that Russell has been practising upon +the affections of this innocent young creature--confided to him too? +All this time, whilst he has been cautioning me against her charms, +beseeching me not to propose for her precipitately, is it possible that +he wanted only to get, to keep the start of me?--No--impossible! utterly +impossible! If all the circumstances, all the evidence upon earth +conspired, I would not believe it.” + +Resolved not to do injustice, even in his inmost soul, to his friend, +our hero repelled all suspicion of Russell, by reflecting on his long +and tried integrity, and on the warmth and fidelity of his friendship. +In this temper he was crossing the castle-yard to go to Russell’s +apartment, when he was met and stopped by one of the domesticated +friends of the family, Mr. Mainwaring, the young lawyer: he was in the +confidence of Lord Glistonbury, and, proud to show it, he let Mr. +Vivian know that he was apprised of the proposal that had been made, +and congratulated him, and all the parties concerned, on the prospect of +such an agreeable connexion. Vivian was quite unprepared to speak to any +one, much less to a lawyer, upon this subject; he had not even thought +of the means of obeying Lady Julia, by withdrawing his suit; therefore, +with a mixture of vexation and embarrassment in his manner, he answered +in commonplace phrases, meant to convey no precise meaning, and +endeavoured to disengage himself from his companion; but the lawyer, who +had fastened upon him, linking his arm in Vivian’s, continued to walk +him up and down under the great gateway, saying that he had a word or +two of importance for his private ear. This man had taken much pains +to insinuate himself into Vivian’s favour, by the most obsequious and +officious attentions: though his flattery had at first been disgusting, +yet, by persevering in his show of civility, he had at length inclined +Vivian to think that he was too harsh in his first judgment, and to +believe that, “after all, Mainwaring was a good friendly fellow, though +his manner was against him.” + +Mr. Mainwaring, with many professions of regard for Vivian, and with +sundry premisings that he hazarded himself by the communication, took +the liberty of hinting, that he guessed, from Mr. Vivian’s manner this +morning, that obstacles had arisen on the part of a young lady who +should be nameless; and he should make bold to add that, in his private +opinion, the said obstacles would never be removed whilst _a certain +person_ remained in the castle, and whilst the young lady alluded to +was allowed to spend so much of her time studying with her brother when +well, or nursing him when sick. Mr. Mainwaring declared that he was +perfectly astonished at Lord Glistonbury’s blindness or imprudence +in keeping this person in the house, after the hints his lordship had +received, and after all the proofs that must or may have fallen within +his cognizance, of the arts of seduction that had been employed. Here +Vivian interrupted Mr. Mainwaring, to beg that he would not keep him +longer in suspense by _inuendoes_, but that he would name distinctly +the object of his suspicions. This, however, Mr. Mainwaring begged to +be excused from doing: he would only shake his head and smile, and leave +people to their own sagacity and penetration. Vivian warmly answered, +that, if Mr. Mainwaring meant Mr. Russell, he was well assured that Mr. +Mainwaring was utterly mistaken in attributing to him any but the most +honourable conduct. + +Mr. Mainwaring smiled, and shook his head--smiled again, and sighed, and +hoped Mr. Vivian was right, and observed that time would show; and that, +at all events, he trusted Mr. Vivian would keep profoundly secret the +hint which his friendship had, indiscreetly perhaps, hazarded. + +Scarcely had Mr. Mainwaring retired, when Captain Pickering met and +seized upon Vivian, led to the same subject, and gave similar hints, +that Russell was the happy rival who had secretly made himself master of +Lady Julia’s heart. Vivian, though much astonished, finding that +these gentlemen agreed in their discoveries or their suspicions, still +defended his friend Russell, and strongly protested that he would be +responsible for his honour with his life, if it were necessary. The +captain shrugged his shoulders, said it was none of his business, that, +as Mr. Vivian _took it up so warmly,_ he should let it drop; for it was +by no means his intention to get into a quarrel with Mr. Vivian, for +whom he had a particular regard. This said, with all the frankness of a +soldier, Captain Pickering withdrew, adding, as the clergyman passed at +this instant, “There’s a man who could tell you more than any of us, if +he would, but _snug’s_ the word with Wicksted.” + +Vivian, in great anxiety and much curiosity, appealed to Mr. Wicksted: +he protested that he knew nothing, suspected nothing, at least could +venture to say nothing; for these were very delicate family matters, and +every gentleman should, on these occasions, make it a principle to see +with his own eyes. Gradually, however, Mr. Wicksted let out his opinion, +and implied infinitely more than Captain Pickering or Mr. Mainwaring +had asserted. Vivian still maintained, in the warmest terms, that it was +impossible his friend Russell should be to blame. Mr. Wicksted simply +pronounced the word _friend_ with a peculiar emphasis, and, with an +incredulous smile, left him to his reflections. Those reflections were +painful; for, though he defended Russell from the attacks of others, +yet he had not sufficient firmness of mind completely to resist the +suggestions of suspicion and jealousy, particularly when they had been +corroborated by so many concurring testimonies. He had no longer the +courage to go immediately to Russell, to tell him of his proposal for +Lady Julia, or to speak to him of any of his secret feelings; but, +turning away from the staircase that led to his friend’s apartment, he +determined to observe Russell with his own eyes, before he should decide +upon the truth or falsehood of the accusations which had been brought +against him. Alas! Vivian was no longer in a condition to observe with +his own eyes; his imagination was so perturbed, that he could neither +see nor hear any thing as it really was. When he next saw Russell and +Lady Julia together, he wondered at his blindness in not having sooner +perceived their mutual attachment: notwithstanding that Lady Julia had +now the strongest motives to suppress every indication of her passion, +symptoms of it broke out continually, the more violent, perhaps, from +her endeavours to conceal them. He knew that she was passionately in +love with Russell; and that Russell should not have perceived what every +other man, even every indifferent spectator, had discovered, appeared +incredible. Russell’s calm manner and entire self-possession sometimes +provoked Vivian, and sometimes quelled his suspicions; sometimes he +looked upon this calmness as the extreme of art, sometimes as a proof of +innocence, which could not be counterfeit. At one moment he was so much +struck with Russell’s friendly countenance, that, quite ashamed of +his suspicions, he was upon the point of speaking openly to him; but, +unfortunately, these intentions were frustrated by some slight obstacle. +At length Miss Strictland, who had lately been very courteous to Mr. +Vivian, took an opportunity of drawing him into one of the recessed +windows; where, with infinite difficulty in bringing herself to speak +on such a subject, after inconceivable bridlings of the head, and +contortions of every muscle of her neck, she insinuated to him her +fears, that my Lord Glistonbury’s confidence had been very ill placed in +Lord Lidhurst’s tutor: she was aware that Mr. Russell had the honour of +Mr. Vivian’s friendship, but nothing could prevent her from speaking, +where she felt it to be so much her duty; and that, as from the +unfortunate circumstances in the family she had no longer any influence +over Lady Julia Lidhurst, nor any chance of being listened to on such a +subject with patience by Lord Glistonbury, she thought the best course +she could take was to apply to Mr. Russell’s friend, who might possibly, +by his interference, prevent the utter disgrace and ruin of one branch +of a noble family. + +Miss Strictland, in all she said, hinted not at Vivian’s attachment to +Lady Julia, and gave him no reason to believe that she was apprised of +his having proposed for her ladyship: she spoke with much moderation and +candour; attributed all Lady Julia’s errors to the imprudence of her +new governess, Miss Bateman. Miss Strictland now showed a desire not to +make, but to prevent mischief; even the circumlocutions and stiffness +of her habitual prudery did not, on this occasion, seem unseasonable; +therefore what she suggested made a great impression on Vivian. He +still, however, defended Russell, and assured Miss Strictland that, from +the long experience he had himself had of his friend’s honour, he was +convinced that no temptation could shake his integrity. Miss Strictland +had formed her opinion on this point, she said, and it would be in vain +to argue against it. Every new assertion; the belief of each new person +who spoke to him on the subject; the combination, the coincidence of all +their opinions, wrought his mind to such a height of jealousy, that he +was now absolutely incapable of using his reason. He went in search of +Russell, but in no fit mood to speak to him as he ought. He looked for +him in his own, in Lord Lidhurst’s apartment, in every sitting-room in +the castle; but Mr. Russell was not to be found: at last Lady Sarah’s +maid, who heard him inquiring for Mr. Russell from the servants, told +him, “she fancied that if he took the trouble to go to the west walk, +he might find Mr. Russell, as that was a favourite walk of his.” Vivian +hurried thither, with a secret expectation of finding Lady Julia with +him--there they both were in earnest conversation: as he approached, the +trees concealed him from view; and Vivian heard his own name repeated. +“Stop!” cried he, advancing: “let me not overhear your secrets--I am not +a traitor to my friends!” + +As he spoke, his eyes fixed with an expression of concentrated rage upon +Russell. Terrified by Vivian’s sudden appearance and strange address, +and still more by the fierce look he cast on Russell, Lady Julia started +and uttered a faint scream. With astonishment, but without losing his +self-command, Russell advanced towards Vivian, saying, “You are out of +your senses, my dear friend!--I will not listen to you in your present +humour. Take a turn or two with me to cool yourself. The anger of a +friend should always be allowed three minutes’ grace, at least,” added +Russell, smiling, and endeavouring to draw Vivian away: but Vivian stood +immoveable; Russell’s calmness, instead of bringing him to his senses, +only increased his anger; to his distempered imagination this coolness +seemed perfidious dissimulation. + +“You cannot deceive me longer, Mr. Russell, by all your art!” cried he. +“Though I am the last to open my eyes, I have opened them. Why did you +pretend to be my counsellor and friend, when you were my rival?--when +you knew that you were my successful rival?----Yes, start and affect +astonishment! Yes--look, if you can, with _innocent_ surprise upon that +lady!--Say that you have not betrayed her father’s confidence!--say, +that you have not practised upon her unguarded heart!--say, that you do +not know that she loves you to distraction!” + +“Oh! Mr. Vivian, what have you done?” cried Lady Julia: she could say +no more, but fell senseless on the ground. Vivian’s anger was at once +sobered by this sight. + +“What have I done!” repeated he, as they raised her from the ground. +“Wretch! dishonourable villain that I am! I have betrayed her +secret--But I thought every body knew it!----Is it possible that _you_ +did not know it, Russell?” + +Russell made no reply, but ran to the river which was near them for +some water--Vivian was incapable of affording any assistance, or even of +forming a distinct idea. As soon as Lady Julia returned to her senses, +Russell withdrew; Vivian threw himself on his knees before her, and +said something about the violence of his passion--his sorrow--and +her forgiveness. “Mr. Vivian,” said Lady Julia, turning to him with a +mixture of despair and dignity in her manner, “do not kneel to me; +do not make use of any commonplace phrases--I cannot, at this moment, +forgive you--you have done me an irreparable injury. I confided a secret +to you--a secret known to no human being but my father and yourself--you +have revealed it, and to whom?--Sooner would I have had it proclaimed to +the whole world than to ----; for what is the opinion of the whole world +to me, compared to his?--Sir, you have done me, indeed, an irremediable +injury!--I trusted to your honour--your discretion--and you have +betrayed, sacrificed me.” + +“Vile suspicions!” cried Vivian, striking his forehead: “how could I +listen to them for a moment!” + +“Suspicions of Mr. Russell!” cried Julia, with a look of high +indignation--“Suspicions of your noble-minded friend!--What wickedness, +or what weakness!” + +“Weakness!--miserable weakness!--the sudden effect of jealousy; and +could you know, Lady Julia, by what means, by what arts, my mind was +worked up to this insanity!” + +“I cannot listen to this now, Mr. Vivian,” interrupted Lady Julia: “my +thoughts cannot fix upon such things--I cannot go back to the past--what +is done cannot be undone--what has been said cannot be unsaid.--You +cannot recall your words--they were heard--they were understood. I beg +you to leave me, sir, that I may have leisure to _think_--if possible, +to consider what yet remains for me to do. I have no friend--none, none +willing or capable of advising me! I begged of you to leave me, sir.” + +Vivian could not, at this moment, decide whether he ought or ought not +to tell Lady Julia that her secret was known, or at least suspected, by +many individuals of the family. + +“There’s a servant on the terrace who seems to be looking for us,” said +Vivian; “I had something of consequence to say--but this man--” + +“My lady, Miss Bateman desired me to let you know, my lady, that +there is the Lady Playdels, and the colonel, and Sir James, in the +drawing-room, just come;--and she begs, my lady, you will be pleased to +come to them; for Miss Bateman’s waiting for you, my lady, to repeat the +verses, she bid me say, my lady.” + +“Go to them, Mr. Vivian; I cannot go.” + +“My lady,” persisted the footman, “my lord himself begged you to come; +and he and all the gentlemen have been looking for you every where.” + +“Return to my father, then, and say that I am coming immediately.” + +“Forced into company!” thought Lady Julia, as she walked slowly towards +the house; “compelled to appear calm and gay, when my heart is--what +a life of dissimulation! How unworthy of me, formed, as I was once +pronounced to be, for every thing that is good and great!--But I am no +longer mistress of myself--no soul left but for one object. Why did +I not better guard my heart?--No!--rather, why can I not follow its +dictates, and at once avow and justify its choice?” + +Vivian interrupted Lady Julia’s reverie by pointing out to her, as they +passed along the terrace, a group of heads, in one of the back windows +of the castle, that seemed to be watching them very earnestly. Miss +Strictland’s face was foremost; half her body was out of the window; and +as she drew back, they heard her say--“It is not he!--It is not he!”--As +they passed another front of the castle, another party seemed to be +upon the watch at a staircase window;--the lawyer, the captain, the +clergyman’s heads appeared for a moment, and vanished. + +“They seem all to be upon the watch for us,” said Vivian. + +“Meanness!” cried Lady Julia. “To watch or to be watched, I know not +which is most degrading; but I cannot think they are watching us.” + +“My dear Lady Julia!--yet let me call you dear this once--my hopes are +gone!--even for your forgiveness I have no right to hope--but let me do +you one piece of service--let me put your open temper on its guard. You +flatter yourself that the secret you confided to me is not known to +any body living but to your father--I have reason to believe that it +is suspected, if not positively known, by several other persons in this +castle.” + +“Impossible!” + +“I am certain, too certain, of what I say.” + +Lady Julia made a sudden stop; and, after a pause, exclaimed-- + +“Then farewell hope! and, with hope, farewell fear!” + +“My lady, my lord sent me again, for my lord’s very impatient for you, +my lady,” said the same footman, returning. Lord Glistonbury met them in +the hall.--“Why, Julia! where have you been all this time?” he began, in +an imperious tone; but seeing Mr. Vivian, his brow grew smooth and his +voice good-humoured instantly.--“Ha!--So! so!--Hey! well!--All right! +all right!--Good girl! good girl!--Time for every thing--Hey! Mr. +Vivian?--‘Que la solitude est charmante!’ as Voltaire says--Beg +pardon for sending for you; but interruption, you know, prevents +_têtes-à-têtes_ on the stage from growing tiresome; and the stage, they +say, holds the mirror up to nature. But there’s no nature now left to +hold the mirror up to, except in a few odd instances, as in my Julia +here!--Where so fast, my blushing darling?” + +“I thought you wished, sir, that I should go to Lady Playdel and Sir +James.” + +“Ay, ay, I sent for you to repeat those charming verses for them that I +could not clearly remember.--Go up! go up!--We’ll follow you!--We have a +word or two to say about something--that’s nothing to you.” + +Lord Glistonbury kept Vivian for a full hour in a state of considerable +embarrassment, talking to him of Lady Julia, implying that she was +favourably disposed towards him, but that she had a little pride, that +might make her affect the contrary at first. Then came a disquisition +on pride, with quotations and commonplaces;--then an eulogium, by his +lordship, on his lordship’s own knowledge of the human heart, and more +especially of that “moving toyshop,” the female heart; then anecdotes +illustrative, comprising the gallantries of thirty years in various +ranks of life, with suitable bon-mots and embellishments;--then a little +French sentiment, by way of moral, with some philosophical axioms, +to show that, though he had led such a gay life, he had been a deep +thinker, and that, though nobody could have thought that he had had time +for reading, his genius had supplied him, he could not himself really +tell how, with what other people with the study of years could not +master:--all which Vivian was compelled to hear, whilst he was the whole +time impatient to get away, that he might search for Mr. Russell, with +whom he was anxious to have an explanation. But, at last, when Lord +Glistonbury set him free, he was not nearer to his object. Mr. Russell, +he found upon inquiry, had not returned to the castle, nor did he return +to dinner; he sent word that he was engaged to dine with a party of +gentlemen at a literary club, in a country town nine miles distant. +Vivian spent the greatest part of the evening in Lord Lidhurst’s +apartment, expecting Russell’s return; but it grew so late, that Lord +Lidhurst, who was still indisposed, went to bed; and when Vivian quitted +his lordship, he met Russell’s servant in the gallery, who said his +master had been come in an hour ago: “but, sir,” added the man, “my +master won’t let you see him, I am sure; for he would not let me in, and +he said, that, if you asked for him, I was to answer, that he could not +see you to-night.”--Vivian knocked in vain at Russell’s door; he could +not gain admission; so he went reluctantly to bed, determined to rise +very early, that he might see his friend as soon as possible, obtain his +forgiveness for the past, and ask his advice for the future. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +Suspense, curiosity, love, jealousy, remorse, any one of which is enough +to keep a person awake all night, by turns agitated poor Vivian so +violently, that for several hours he could not close his eyes; but at +last, when quite exhausted, he fell into a profound sleep. The first +image that came before his mind, when he awoke in the morning, was that +of Lady Julia; his next recollection was of Russell. + +“Is Mr. Russell up yet?” said Vivian to his servant, who was bringing in +his boots. + +“Up, sir! Oh, yes, hours ago!--He was _off_ at daybreak!” + +“Off!” cried Vivian, starting up in his bed; “off!--Where is he gone?” + +“I can’t say, sir. Yes, indeed, sir, I heard Mr. Russell’s man say, that +his master was going post to the north, to some old uncle that was taken +ill, which he heard about at dinner from some of those gentlemen where +he dined yesterday; but I can’t say positively. But here’s a letter he +left for you with me.” + +“A letter!--Give it me!--Why didn’t you give it me sooner?” + +“Why really, sir, you lay so sound, I didn’t care to waken you; and I +was up so late myself, too, last night.” + +“Leave me now; I’ll ring when I want you.” + + +“TO C. VIVIAN, ESQ. + +“I would not see you, after what passed yesterday, because I feared that +I should not speak to you with temper. Lest you should misinterpret any +thing I have formerly said, I must now solemnly assure you, that I never +had the slightest suspicion of the secret you revealed to me till the +moment when it was betrayed by your indiscretion. Still I can +scarcely credit what appears to me so improbable; but, even under this +uncertainty, I think it my duty to leave this family. Had the slightest +idea of what you suggested ever crossed my imagination, I should then +have acted as I do now. I say this, not to justify myself, but to +convince you, that what I formerly hinted about reserve of manners and +prudence was merely a _general reflection_. + +“For my own part, I seem to act HEROICALLY; but I must disclaim that +applause to which I am not entitled. All powerful as the temptation must +appear to you, dangerous as it must have been, in other circumstances, +to me, I cannot claim any merit for resisting its influence. My safety I +owe neither to my own prudence or fortitude. I must now, Vivian, impart +to you a secret which you are at liberty to confide where and when you +think necessary--my heart is, and has long been, engaged. Whilst you +were attached to Miss Sidney, I endeavoured to subdue my love for +her; and every symptom of it was, I hope and believe, suppressed. This +declaration cannot now give you any pain; except so far as it may, +perhaps, excite in your mind some remorse for having unwarrantably, +unworthily, and weakly, suffered yourself to feel suspicions of a true +friend. Well as I know the infirmity of your character, and willing as I +have always been to make allowance for a fault which I thought time and +experience would correct, I was not prepared for this last stroke; I +never thought your weakness of mind would have shown itself in suspicion +of your best, your long-tried friend.--But I am at last convinced that +your mind is not strong enough for confidence and friendship. I pity, +but I see that I can no longer serve; and I feel that I can no longer +esteem you. Farewell! Vivian. May you find a friend, who will supply to +you the place of H. RUSSELL.” + +Vivian knew Russell’s character too well to flatter himself that the +latter part of this letter was written in anger that would quickly +subside; from the tone of the letter he felt that Russell was deeply +offended. In the whole course of his life he had depended on Russell’s +friendship as a solid blessing, of which he could never be deprived by +any change of circumstances--by any possible chance in human affairs; +and now to have lost such a friend by his own folly, by his own +weakness, was a misfortune of which he could hardly believe the reality. +At the same moment, too, he learned how nobly Russell had behaved +towards him, in the most trying situation in which the human heart can +be placed. Russell’s love for Selina Sidney, Vivian had never till +this instant suspected. “What force, what command of mind!--What +magnanimity!--What a generous friend he has ever been to me!--and I--” + +Poor Vivian, always sinning and always penitent, was so much absorbed by +sorrow for the loss of Russell’s friendship, that he could not for some +time think even of the interests of his love, or consider the advantage +which he might derive from the absence of his rival, and from that +rival’s explicit declaration, that his affections were irrevocably +engaged. By degrees these ideas rose clearly to Vivian’s view; his hopes +revived. Lady Julia would see the absolute impossibility of Russell’s +returning, or of his accepting her affection; her good sense, her pride, +would in time subdue this hopeless passion; and Vivian was generous +enough, or sufficiently in love, to feel that the value of her heart +would not be diminished, but rather increased in his opinion, by the +sensibility she had shown to the talents and virtues of his friend. _His +friend_, Vivian ventured now to call him; for with the hopes of love, +the hopes of friendship rose. + +“All may yet be well!” said he to himself. “Russell will forgive me +when he hears how I was worked upon by those parasites and prudish +busybodies, who infused their vile suspicions into my mind. Weak as +it is, I never will allow that it is incapable of confidence or of +friendship!--No! Russell will retract that harsh sentence. When he is +happy, as I am sure I ardently hope he will be, in Selina’s love, he +will restore me to his favour. Without his friendship, I could not be +satisfied with myself, or happy in the full accomplishment of all my +other fondest hopes.” + +By the time that hope had thus revived and renovated our hero’s soul; +by the time that his views of things had totally changed, and that the +colour of his future destiny had turned from black to white--from all +gloom to all sunshine; the minute-hand of the clock had moved with +unfeeling regularity, or, in plain unmeasured prose, it was now eleven +o’clock, and three times Vivian had been warned that breakfast was +ready. When he entered the room, the first thing he heard, as usual, was +Miss Bateman’s voice, who was declaiming upon some sentimental point, in +all “the high sublime of deep absurd.” Vivian, little interested in +this display, and joining neither in the open flattery nor in the secret +ridicule with which the gentlemen wits and amateurs listened to the +Rosamunda, looked round for Lady Julia. “She breakfasts in her own +room this morning,” whispered Lord Glistonbury, before Vivian had even +pronounced her ladyship’s name. + +“So!” said Mr. Pickering, “we have lost Mr. Russell this morning!” + +“Yes,” said Lord Glistonbury, “he was forced to hurry away to the north, +I find, to an old sick uncle.” + +“Lord Lidhurst, I’m afraid, will break his heart for want of him,” + cried the lawyer, in a tone that might either pass for earnest or irony, +according to the fancy of the interpreter. + +“Lord Lidhurst, did you say?”--cried the captain: “are you sure you +meant Lord Lidhurst? I don’t apprehend that a young nobleman ever broke +his heart after his tutor. But I was going to remark----” + +What farther the captain was going to remark can never be known to the +world; for Lord Glistonbury so startled him by the loud and rather angry +tone in which he called for the cream, which _stood_ with the captain, +that all his few ideas were put to flight. Mr. Pickering, who noticed +Lord Glistonbury’s displeasure, now resumed the conversation about Mr. +Russell in a new tone; and the lawyer and he joined in a eulogy +upon that gentleman. Lord Glistonbury said not a word, but looked +embarrassed. Miss Strictland cleared her throat several times, and +looked infinitely more rigid and mysterious than usual. Lady Glistonbury +and Lady Sarah, ditto--ditto. Almost every body, except such visitors +as were strangers at the castle, perceived that there was something +extraordinary going on in the family; and the gloom and constraint +spread so, that, towards the close of breakfast, nothing was uttered, by +prudent people, but awkward sentences about the weather--the wind--and +the likelihood of there being a mail from the continent. Still through +all this, regardless and unknowing of it all, the Rosamunda talked on, +happily abstracted, egotistically secured from the pains of sympathy +or of curiosity by the all-sufficient power of vanity. Even her patron, +Lord Glistonbury, was at last provoked and disgusted. He was heard, +under his breath, to pronounce a contemptuous _Pshaw!_ and, as he rose +from the breakfast table he whispered to Vivian, “There’s a woman, now, +who thinks of nothing living but herself!--All talkèe talkèe!--I begin +to be weary of her.----Gentlemen,” continued his lordship, “I’ve letters +to write this morning.----You’ll ride--you’ll walk--you’re for the +billiard-room, I suppose.----Mr. Vivian, I shall find you in my study, I +hope, an hour hence; but first I have a little business to settle.” With +evident embarrassment Lord Glistonbury retired. Lady Glistonbury, +Lady Sarah, and Miss Strictland, each sighed; then, with looks of +intelligence, rose and retired. The company separated soon afterwards; +and went to ride, to walk, or to the billiard-room, and Vivian to the +study, to wait there for Lord Glistonbury, and to meditate upon what +might be the nature of his lordship’s business. As Vivian crossed the +gallery, the door of Lady Glistonbury’s dressing-room opened, and was +shut again instantaneously by Miss Strictland; but not before he saw +Lady Julia kneeling at her father’s feet, whilst Lady Glistonbury and +Lady Sarah were standing like statues, on each side of his lordship. +Vivian waited a full hour afterwards in tedious suspense in the study. +At last he heard doors open and footsteps, and he judged that the family +council had broken up; he laid down a book, of which he had read the +same page over six times, without any one of the words it contained +having conveyed a single idea to his mind. Lord Glistonbury came in, +with papers and parchments in his hands. + +“Mr. Vivian, I am afraid you have been waiting for me--have a thousand +pardons to ask--I really could not come any sooner--I wished to speak +to you--Won’t you sit down?--We had better sit down quietly--there’s no +sort of hurry.” + +His lordship, however, seemed to be in great agitation-of spirits; +and Vivian was convinced that his mind must be interested in an +extraordinary manner, because he did not, as was his usual practice, +digress to fifty impertinent episodes before he came to the point. He +only blew his nose sundry times; and then at once said, “I wish to speak +to you, Mr. Vivian, about the proposal you did me the honour to make +for my daughter Julia. Difficulties have occurred on our side--very +extraordinary difficulties--Julia, I understand, has hinted to you, +sir, the nature of those difficulties.--Oh, Mr. Vivian,” said Lord +Glistonbury, suddenly quitting the constrained voice in which he spoke, +and giving way to his natural feelings, “you are a man of honour and +feeling, and a father may trust you!----Here’s my girl--a charming +girl she is; but knowing nothing of the world--self-willed, romantic, +open-hearted, imprudent beyond conception; do not listen to any of the +foolish things she says to you. You are a man of sense, you love her, +and you are every way suited to her; it is the first wish of my heart--I +tell you frankly--to see her your wife: then do not let her childish +folly persuade you that her affections are engaged--don’t listen to any +such stuff. We all know what the first loves of a girl of sixteen must +be--But it’s our fault--my fault, my fault, since they will have it so. +I care not whose fault it is; but we have had very improper people about +her--very!--very!--But all may be well yet, if you, sir, will be steady, +and save her--save her from herself. I would farther suggest----” + +Lord Glistonbury was going on, probably, to have weakened by +amplification the effect of what he had said, when Lady Julia entered +the room; and, advancing with dignified determination of manner, said, +“I have your commands, father, that I should see Mr. Vivian again:--I +obey.” + +“That is right--that is my darling Julia; I always knew she would +justify my high opinion of her.” Lord Glistonbury attempted to draw her +towards him fondly; but, with an unaltered manner, that seemed as if +she suppressed strong emotion, she answered, “I do not deserve your +caresses, father; do not oppress me with praise that I cannot merit: I +wish to speak to Mr. Vivian without control and without witness.” + +Lord Glistonbury rose; and growing red and almost inarticulate with +anger, exclaimed, “Remember, Julia! remember, Lady Julia Lidhurst! that +if you say what you said you would say, and what I said you should not +say--I--Lord Glistonbury, your father--I, as well as all the rest of +your family, utterly disclaim and cast you off for ever!--You’ll be a +thing without fortune--without friends--without a name--without a being +in the world--Lady Julia Lidhurst!” + +“I am well aware of that,” replied Lady Julia, growing quite pale, yet +without changing the determination of her countenance, or abating any +thing from the dignity of her manner: “I am well aware, that on what +I am about to do depends my having, or my ceasing from this moment to +have, fortune, friends, and a father.” + +Lord Glistonbury stood still for a moment--fixed his eyes upon her as if +he would have read her soul; but, without seeking to elude his inquiry, +her countenance seemed to offer itself to his penetration. + +“By Heaven, there is no understanding this girl!” cried his lordship. +“Mr. Vivian, I trust her to your honour--to your knowledge of the +world--to your good sense;--in short, sir, to your love and constancy.” + +“And I, sir,” said Lady Julia, turning to Vivian, after her father +had left the room, and looking at Vivian so as to stop him short as he +approached, and to disconcert him in the commencement of a passionate +speech; “and I, too, sir, trust to your honour, whilst I deprecate your +love. Imprudent as I was in the first confidence I reposed in you, and +much as I have suffered by your rashness, I now stand determined +to reveal to you another yet more important, yet more humiliating +secret--You owe me no gratitude, sir!--I am compelled, by the +circumstances in which I am placed, either to deceive or to trust you. +I must either become your wife, and deceive you most treacherously; or +I must trust you entirely, and tell you why it would be shameful that I +should become your wife--shameful to me and to you.” + +“To me!--Impossible!” cried Vivian, bursting into some passionate +expressions of love and admiration. + +“Listen to me, sir; and do not make any of those rash professions, of +which you will soon repent. You think you are speaking to the same +Lady Julia you saw yesterday--No!--you are speaking to a very different +person--a few hours have made a terrible change. You see before you, +sir, one who has been, till this day, the darling and pride of her +father; who has lived in the lap of luxury; who has been flattered, +admired, by almost all who approached her; who had fortune, and rank, +and fair prospects in life, and youth, and spirits, and all the pride of +prosperity; who had, I believe, good dispositions, perhaps some talents, +and, I may say, a generous heart; who might have been,--but that is all +over--no matter what she might have been--she is + + ‘A tale for ev’ry prating she.’ + +Fallen!--fallen! fallen under the feet of those who worshipped +her!--fallen below the contempt of the contemptible!--Worse! worse! +fallen in her own opinion--never to rise again.” + +Lady Julia’s voice failed, and she was forced to pause. She sunk upon a +seat, and hid her face--for some moments she neither saw nor heard; but +at last, raising her head, she perceived Vivian. + +“You are in amazement, sir! and I see you pity me; but let me beg of you +to restrain your feelings--my own are as much as I can bear. O that I +could recall a few hours of my existence! But I have not yet been able +to tell you what has passed. My father, my friends, wish to conceal it +from you: but, whatever I have done, however low I have sunk, I will not +deceive, nor be an accomplice in deceit. From my own lips you shall hear +all. This morning at daybreak, not being able to sleep, and having some +suspicion that Mr. Russell would leave the castle, I rose, and whilst I +was dressing, I heard the trampling of horses in the court. I looked out +of my window, and saw Mr. Russell’s man saddling his master’s horse. I +heard Mr. Russell, a moment afterwards, order the servant to take the +horses to the great gate on the north road, and wait for him there, +as he intended to walk through the park. I thought these were the last +words I should ever hear him speak.--Love took possession of me--I stole +softly down the little staircase that leads from my turret to one of +the back doors, and got out of the castle, as I thought, unobserved: I +hurried on, and waited in the great oak wood, through which I knew Mr. +Russell would pass. When I saw him coming nearer and nearer to me, I +would have given the world to have been in my own room again--I hid +myself among the trees--yet, when he walked on in reverie without +noticing me, taking me probably for one of the servants, I could not +bear to think that this was the last moment I should ever see him, and I +exclaimed--I know not what; but I know that at the sound of my voice +Mr. Russell started, and never can I forget the look--Spare me the +rest!--No!--I will not spare myself--I offered my heart, my hand,--and +they were rejected!--In my madness I told him I regarded neither +wealth, nor rank, nor friends, nor--That I would rather live with him +in obscurity than be the greatest princess upon earth--I said this +and more--and I was rejected--And even at this moment, instead of the +vindictive passions which are said to fill the soul of a woman scorned, +I feel admiration for your noble friend: I have not done him justice; +I cannot repeat his words, or describe his manner. He persuaded, by his +eloquence compelled, me to return to this castle. He took from me all +hope; he destroyed by one word all my illusions--he told me that he +loves another. He has left me to despair, to disgrace; and yet I love, +esteem, and admire him, above all human beings! Admire one who despises +me!--Is it possible? I know not, but it is so--I have more to tell you, +sir!--As I returned to the castle, I was watched by Miss Strictland. How +she knew all that had passed, I cannot divine; perhaps it was by means +of some spy who followed me, and whom I did not perceive: for I neither +saw nor heard any thing but my passion. Miss Strictland communicated +her discovery immediately to my father. I have been these last two hours +before a family tribunal. My mother, with a coldness a thousand times +worse than my poor father’s rage, says, that I have only accomplished +her prophecies; that she always knew and told my father that I should be +a disgrace to my family. But no reproaches are equal to my own; I stand +self-condemned. I feel like one awakened from a dream. A few words!--a +single look from Mr. Russell!--how they have altered all my views, +all my thoughts! Two hours’ reflection--Two hours, did I say?--whole +years--a whole existence--have passed to me in the last two hours: I +am a different creature. But it is too late--too late!--Self-esteem is +gone!--happiness is over for me in this world.” + +“Happiness over for you!” exclaimed Vivian in a tone expressive of the +deep interest he felt for her; “Self-esteem gone!--No! Lady Julia; +do not blame yourself so severely for what has passed! Blame the +circumstances in which you have been placed; above all, blame me--blame +my folly--my madness; your secret never would have been known, if I had +not--” + +“I thank you,” interrupted Lady Julia, rising from her seat; “but no +consolation can be of any avail. It neither consoles nor justifies me +that others have been to blame.” + +“Permit me, at least,” pursued Vivian, “to speak of my own sentiments +for one moment. Permit me to say, Lady Julia, that the confidence with +which you have just honoured me, instead of diminishing my attachment, +has so raised my admiration for your candour and magnanimity, that no +obstacles shall vanquish my constancy. I will wait respectfully, and, +if I can, patiently, till time shall have effaced from your mind these +painful impressions; I shall neither ask nor accept of the interference +or influence of your father, nor of any of your friends; I shall rely +solely on the operation of your own excellent understanding, and shall +hope for my reward from your noble heart.” + +“You do not think it possible,” said Lady Julia, looking at Vivian with +dignified determination, “you do not think it possible, after all that +has passed, after all that I have told you, that I could so far degrade +myself or you, as to entertain any thoughts of becoming your wife? +Farewell! Mr. Vivian.----You will not see me again. I shall obtain +permission to retire, and live with a relation in a distant part of the +country; where I shall no more be seen or heard of. My fortune will, I +hope, be of use to my sister.----My poor father!--I pity him; he loves +me: he loses his daughter for ever; worse than loses her! My mother, +too--I pity her! for, though she does not love me, she will suffer for +me; she will suffer more than my father, by the disgrace that would be +brought upon my family, if ever the secret should be publicly known. My +brother!--Oh, my beloved brother! he knows nothing yet of all this!--But +why do I grieve you with my agony of mind? Forget that Lady Julia +Lidhurst ever existed!--I wish you that happiness which I can never +enjoy--I wish you may deserve and win a heart capable of feeling real +love!--Adieu!” + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +Convinced that all farther pursuit of Lady Julia Lidhurst would be +vain, that it could tend only to increase her difficulties and his +mortification, Vivian saw that the best thing he could possibly do was +to leave Glistonbury. Thus he should relieve the whole family from the +embarrassment of his presence; and, by immediate change of scene and +of occupation, he had the best chance of recovering from his own +disappointment. If Lady Julia was to quit the castle, he could have +no inducement to stay; if her ladyship remained, his continuing in her +society would be still more dangerous to his happiness. Besides, he felt +offended with Lord Glistonbury, who evidently had wished to conceal from +him the truth; and, without considering what was just or honourable, had +endeavoured to secure, at all events, an establishment for his daughter, +and a connexion for his family. To the weight of these reasons must be +added a desire to see Mr. Russell, and to effect a reconciliation with +him. The accumulated force of all these motives had power to overcome +Vivian’s habitual indecision: his servant was surprised by an order to +have every thing ready for his journey to town immediately. Whilst his +man prepared to obey, or at least to meditate upon the cause of this +unusually decided order, our hero went in quest of Lord Glistonbury, +to pay his compliments to his lordship previous to his departure. His +lordship was in his daughter Julia’s dressing-room, and could not be +seen; but presently he came to Vivian in great hurry and distress of +mind. + +“A sad stroke upon us, Mr. Vivian!--a sad stroke upon us all--but most +upon me; for she was the child of my expectations--I hear she has +told you every thing--you, also, have been very ill-used--Never was +astonishment equal to mine when I heard Miss Strictland’s story. I need +not caution you, Mr. Vivian, as to secrecy; you are a man of honour, and +you see the peace of our whole family is at stake. The girl is going +to a relation of ours in Devonshire.--Sha’n’t stay here--sha’n’t stay +here--Disgrace to my family--She who was my pride--and, after all, says +she will never marry.--Very well!--very well!--I shall never see her +again, that I am determined upon.--I told her, that if she did not +behave with common sense and propriety, in her last interview with you, +I would give her up--and so I will, and so I do.--The whole is Lady +Glistonbury’s fault--she never managed her rightly when she was a child. +Oh! I should put you on your guard in one particular--Miss Bateman knows +nothing of what has happened--I wish Miss Strictland knew as little--I +hate her. What business had she to play the spy upon my daughter? She +does well to be a prude, for she is as ugly as sin. But we are in her +power. She is to go to-morrow with Julia to Devonshire. It will make a +quarrel between me and Miss Bateman--no matter for that; for now, the +sooner we get rid of that Rosamunda, too, the better--she talks me dead, +and will let no one talk but herself. And, between you and me, all +this could not have happened, if she had looked after her charge +properly.--Not but what I think Miss Strictland was still less fit to +guide a girl of Julia’s genius and disposition. All was done wrong at +first, and I always said so to Lady Glistonbury. But, if the secret can +be kept--and _that_ depends on you, my dear friend--after six months’ or +a twelve-month’s _rustication_ with our poor parson in the country, you +will see how tamed and docile the girl will come back to us. This is my +scheme; but nobody shall know my whole mind but you--I shall tell her +I will never see her again; and that will pacify Lady Glistonbury, and +frighten Julia into submission. She says she’ll never marry.--Stuff! +Stuff!--You don’t believe her!--What man who has seen any thing of the +world ever believes such stuff?” + +Vivian’s servant came into the room to ask his master some question +about horses. + +“Going!--where? Going!--when? Going!--how?” cried Lord Glistonbury, as +soon as the servant withdrew. “Surely, you are not going to leave us, +Mr. Vivian?” + +Vivian explained his reasons--Lord Glistonbury would not allow them any +weight, entreated and insisted that he should stay at least a few days +longer; for his going “just at this moment would seem quite like a +break up in the family, and would be the most unfriendly and cruel thing +imaginable.” Why Lord Glistonbury so earnestly pressed his stay, perhaps +even his lordship himself did not exactly know; for, with all the air of +being a person of infinite address and depth of design, his lordship was +in reality childishly inconsistent; what the French call _inconséquent_. +On any subject, great or small, where he once took it into his head, or, +as he called it, _made it a point_, that a thing should be so or so, he +was as peremptory, or, where he could not be peremptory, as anxious, +as if it were a matter of life and death. In his views there was no +perspective, no keeping--all objects appeared of equal magnitude; and +even now, when it might be conceived that his whole mind was intent upon +a great family misfortune, he, in the course of a few minutes, became +as eager about a mere trifle as if he had nothing else in the world to +think of. From the earnestness with which Lord Glistonbury urged him to +stay a few days, at least one day longer, Vivian was induced to believe +that it must be a matter of real consequence to his lordship--“And, in +his present state of distress, I cannot refuse such a request,” thought +Vivian. He yielded, therefore, to these solicitations, and consented to +stay a few days longer; though he knew the prolonging his visit would +be, in every respect, disagreeable. + +At dinner Lord Glistonbury announced to the company that the physician +had advised change of air immediately for Lord Lidhurst; and that, +in consequence, his son would set out early the next morning for +Devonshire--that his daughter Julia wished to go with her brother, and +that Miss Strictland would accompany them. Lord Glistonbury apologized +for his daughter’s absence, “preparations for her journey so suddenly +decided upon,” &c. Lady Glistonbury and Lady Sarah looked terribly +grim whilst all this was saying; but the gravity and stiffness of their +demeanour did not appear any thing extraordinary to the greater part of +the company, who had no idea of what was going forward. The lawyer, the +captain, and the chaplain, however, interchanged significant looks; and +many times, during the course of the evening, they made attempts to draw +out Vivian’s thoughts, but they found him impenetrable. There was an +underplot of a quarrel between Miss Strictland and Miss Bateman, +to which Vivian paid little attention; nor was he affected, in the +slightest degree, by the Rosamunda’s declaration to Lord Glistonbury, +that she must leave his family, since she found that Miss Strictland had +a larger share than herself of his lordship’s confidence, and was, for +what reason she could not divine, to have the honour of accompanying +Lady Julia into Devonshire. Vivian perceived these quarrels, and heard +the frivolous conversation of the company at Glistonbury Castle without +interest, and with a sort of astonishment at the small motives by which +others were agitated, whilst his whole soul was engrossed by love and +pity for Lady Julia. In vain he hoped for another opportunity of seeing +and speaking to her. She never appeared. The next morning he rose at +daybreak that he might have the chance of seeing her: he begged Miss +Strictland to entreat her ladyship would allow him to say a few words +before she set out; but Miss Strictland replied, that she was assured +the request would be vain; and he thought he perceived that Miss +Strictland, though she affected to lament Lady Julia’s blindness to her +own interests and contumacy, in opposing her father’s wishes, was, +in reality, glad that she persisted in her own determination. Lord +Lidhurst, on account of the weak state of his health, was kept in +ignorance of every thing that could agitate him; and, when Vivian took +leave of him, the poor young man left many messages of kindness and +gratitude for Mr. Russell. + +“I am sorry that he was obliged to leave me; for, ill or well, there is +no human being, I will not except any one but my sister Julia, whom I +should so much wish to have with me. Tell him so; and tell him--be +sure you remember my very words, for perhaps I shall never see him +again--tell him, that, living or dying, I shall feel grateful to him. He +has given me tastes and principles very different from those I had when +he came into this house. Even in sickness, I feel almost every hour +the advantage of my present love for literature. If I should live and +recover, I hope I shall do him some credit; and I trust my family +will join in my gratitude. Julia, my dear sister! why do you weep so +bitterly?--If I had seen you come into the room, I would not have spoken +of my health.” + +Lord Glistonbury came up to tell them that Miss Strictland was ready. +“Mr. Vivian,” cried his lordship, “will you hand Julia into the +carriage?--Julia, Mr. Vivian is offering you his services.” + +Vivian, as he attended Lady Julia, had so much respect for her feelings, +that, though he had been waiting with extreme impatience for an +opportunity _to say a few words_, yet now he would not speak, but handed +her along the gallery, down the staircase, and across the great hall, in +profound silence. She seemed sensible of this forbearance; and, turning +to him at a moment when they could not be overheard, said, “It was not +from unkindness, Mr. Vivian, I refused to see you again, but to convince +you that my mind is determined--if you have any thing to say, I am ready +to hear it.” + +“Is there nothing to be hoped from time?” said Vivian. “Your father, I +know, has hopes that----All I ask is, that you will not make any rash +resolutions.” + +“I make none; but I tell _you_, for your own sake, not to cherish any +vain hope. My father does not know my mind sufficiently, therefore he +may deceive you; but I will not.----I thought, after the manner in which +I spoke to you yesterday, you would have had too much strength of mind +to have rendered this repetition of my sentiments necessary.----Attach +yourself elsewhere as soon as you can.--I sincerely wish your happiness. +Miss Strictland is waiting.--Farewell!” + +She hurried forward to the carriage; and, when she was gone, Vivian +repented that he had seen her again, as it had only given them both +additional and fruitless pain. + +What passed during some succeeding days at Glistonbury Castle he +scarcely knew; no trace remained in his mind of anything but the +confused noise of people, who had been talking, laughing, and diverting +themselves in a manner that seemed to him incomprehensible. He exerted +himself, however, so far as to write to Russell, to implore his +forgiveness, and to solicit a return of his friendship, which, in his +present state of unhappiness, was more necessary to him than ever. When +he had finished and despatched this letter, he sunk again into a sort of +reckless state, without hope or determination, as to his future life. +He could not decide whether he should go to his mother immediately on +leaving Glistonbury, or to Mr. Russell, or (which he knew was the best +course he could pursue) attend his duty in parliament, and, by plunging +at once into public business, change the course of his thoughts, and +force his mind to resume its energy. After altering his determination +twenty times, after giving at least a dozen contradictory orders about +his journey, his servant at last had his ultimatum, _for London_--the +carriage to be at the door at ten o’clock the next morning. Every thing +was ready at the appointed hour. Breakfast over, Vivian waited only to +pay his compliments to Lady Glistonbury, who had breakfasted in her own +apartment. Lady Sarah, with a manner as formal as usual, rose from the +breakfast-table, and said she would let her mother know that Mr. +Vivian was going. Vivian waited half an hour--an hour--two hours. Lady +Glistonbury did not appear, nor did Lady Sarah return. The company had +dispersed after the first half-hour. Lord Glistonbury began to believe +that the ladies did not mean to make their appearance. At length a +message came from Lady Glistonbury.--“Lady Glistonbury’s compliments to +Mr. Vivian--her ladyship was concerned that it was out of her power to +have the pleasure of seeing Mr. Vivian, as she was too much indisposed +to leave her room.--She and Lady Sarah wished him a very good journey.” + +Vivian went up to his room for his gloves, which he missed at the moment +when he was going. Whilst he was opening the empty drawers one after +another, in search of his gloves, and, at the same time, calling +his servant to find them, he heard a loud scream from an adjoining +apartment. He listened again--all was silent; and he supposed that what +he had heard was not a scream: but, at that moment, Lady Sarah’s maid +flung open his door, and, running in with out-stretched arms, threw +herself at Vivian’s feet. Her sobs and tears prevented his understanding +one syllable she said. At last she articulated intelligibly, “Oh, +sir!--don’t be so cruel to go--my lady!--my poor lady! If you go, it +will kill Lady Sarah!” + +“Kill Lady Sarah?--Why I saw her in perfect health this morning at +breakfast!” + +“Dear, dear sir! you know nothing of the matter!” said the maid, rising, +and shutting the door: “you don’t know what a way she has been in ever +since the talk of your going--fits upon fits every night, and my lady, +her mother, and I up holding her--and none in the house knowing it but +ourselves. Very well at breakfast! Lord help us! sir. How little you +know of what she has suffered! Lord have mercy upon me! I would not be +a lady to be so much in love, and left so, for any thing in the whole +world. And my Lady Sarah keeps every thing so to herself;--if it was not +for these fits they would never have knowed she cared no more for you +than a stone.” + +“And, probably you are quite mistaken,” said Vivian; “and that I have +nothing to do with the young lady’s illness. If she has fits, I am +very sorry for it; but I can’t possibly----Certainly, you are quite +mistaken!” + +“Lord, sir!--mistaken! As if I could be mistaken, when I know my lady as +well as I know myself! Why, sir, I know from the time of the election, +when you was given to her by all the country--and to be sure when we +all thought it would be a match directly--and the Lord knows what put +it off!--I say, from that time, her heart was set upon you. Though she +never said a word to me, or any one, I knew how it was, through all her +coldness--And to be sure, when you was in Lon’on so much with us, all +the town said, as all the country did afore, that to be sure it was to +be a match--But then that sad affair, with that artfullest of women, +that took you off from all that was good, and away, the Lord knows +where, to foreign parts!--Well! to be sure, I never shall forget the day +you come back again to us!--and the night of the ball!--and you dancing +with my lady, and all so happy; then, to be sure, all were sarten it was +to be immediately----And now to go and break my poor lady’s heart at the +last--Oh, sir, sir! if you could but see her, it would touch a heart of +marble!” + +Vivian’s astonishment and dismay were so great, that he suffered +the girl, who was an unpractised creature, to go on speaking without +interruption: the warmth of affection with which she spoke of her lady, +also, surprised him: for, till this instant, he had no idea that any one +could love Lady Sarah Lidhurst; and the accounts she gave of the lady’s +sufferings not only touched his compassion, but worked upon his vanity. +“This cold, proud young lady that never loved none before, to think,” + as her maid said, “that she should come to such a pass, as to be in fits +about him. And it was her belief that Lady Sarah never would recover it, +if he went away out of the castle this day.” + +The ringing of a bell had repeatedly been heard, whilst Lady Sarah’s +maid was speaking; it now rang violently, and her name was called +vehemently from the adjoining apartment. “I must go, I _must_ go!--Oh, +sir! one day, for mercy’s sake! stay one day longer!” + +Vivian, though he had been moved by this girl’s representations, +was determined to effect his retreat whilst it was yet in his power; +therefore he ran down stairs, and had gained the hall, where he was +shaking hands with Lord Glistonbury, when my Lady Glistonbury’s own +woman came in a great hurry to say, that her lady, finding herself a +little better now, and able to see Mr. Vivian, begged he would be so +good as to walk up to her dressing-room. + +Vivian, with a heavy heart and slow steps, obeyed; there was no +refusing, no evading such a request. He summoned all his resolution, at +the same time saying to himself, as he followed his conductor along the +gallery, “It is impossible that I can ever be drawn in to marry Lady +Sarah.--This is a concerted plan, and I shall not be so weak as to be +the dupe of so gross an artifice.” + +Lady Glistonbury’s maid showed him into her lady’s dressing-room and +retired. Lady Glistonbury was seated, and, without speaking, pointed to +a chair which was set opposite to her. “So! a preparation for a scene,” + thought Vivian. He bowed, but, still keeping his hat in his hand, did +not sit down:--he was extremely happy to hear, that her ladyship found +herself something better--much honoured by her permitting him to pay +his respects, and to offer his grateful acknowledgments to her ladyship +before his departure from Glistonbury. + +Her ladyship, still without speaking, pointed to the chair. Vivian +sat down, and looked as if he had “screwed his courage to the sticking +place.” Lady Glistonbury had sometimes a little nervous trembling of +her head, which was the only symptom of internal agitation that was ever +observable in her; it was now increased to a degree which Vivian had +never before seen. + +“Are you in haste, sir, to be gone?” said Lady Glistonbury. + +“Not if her ladyship had any commands for him; but otherwise, he had +intended, if possible, to reach town that night.” + +“I shall not delay you many minutes, Mr. Vivian,” said her ladyship. +“You need not be under apprehension that Lady Glistonbury should seek to +detain you longer than your own inclinations induce you to stay; it is, +therefore, unnecessary to insult her with any appearance of haste or +impatience.” + +Vivian instantly laid down his hat, and protested that he was not in +the slightest degree impatient: he should be very ungrateful, as well as +very ill-bred, if, after the most hospitable manner in which he had been +received and entertained at Glistonbury Castle, he could be in haste to +quit it. He was entirely at her ladyship’s orders. + +Lady Glistonbury bowed formally--was again silent--the trembling of her +head very great--the rest of her form motionless. + +“I have sent for you, Mr. Vivian,” said she, “that I might, before you +leave this castle, set you right on a subject which much concerns me. +From the representations of a foolish country girl, a maid-servant of my +daughter, Lady Sarah Lidhurst, which I have just discovered she has made +to you, I had reason to fear that you might leave Glistonbury with very +false notions----” + +A cry was heard at this moment from the inner apartment, which made +Vivian start; but Lady Glistonbury, without noticing it, went on +speaking. + +“With notions very injurious to my daughter Sarah; who, if I know any +thing of her, would rather, if it were so ordained, go out of this +world, than condescend to any thing unbecoming her sex, her education, +and her family.” + +Vivian, struck with respect and compassion for the mother, who spoke to +him in this manner, was now convinced that there had been no concerted +plan to work upon his mind, that the maid had spoken without the +knowledge of her lady; and the more proudly solicitous Lady Glistonbury +showed herself to remove what she called the false impression from his +mind, the more he was persuaded that the girl had spoken the truth. He +was much embarrassed between his good-nature and his dread of becoming a +sacrifice to his humanity. + +He replied in general terms to Lady Glistonbury, that he had the highest +respect for Lady Sarah Lidhurst, and that no opinion injurious to her +could be entertained by him. + +“Respect she must command from all,” said Lady Glistonbury; “_that_ it +is out of any man’s power to refuse her: as to the rest, she leaves you, +and I leave you, sir, to your own conscience.” + +Lady Glistonbury rose, and so did Vivian. He hoped that neither her +ladyship nor Lady Sarah had any cause----He hesitated; the words, _to +reproach, to complain, to be displeased_, all came to his lips; but each +seemed improper; and, none other being at hand to convey his meaning, +he could not finish his sentence: so he began another upon a new +construction, with “I should be much concerned if, in addition to all my +other causes of regret in leaving Glistonbury Castle, I felt that I had +incurred Lady Glistonbury’s or Lady Sarah’s displea--disapprobation.” + +“As to that, sir,” said Lady Glistonbury, “I cannot but have my own +opinion of your conduct; and you can scarcely expect, I apprehend, that +a mother, such as I am, should not feel some disapprobation of conduct, +which has----Sir, I beg I may not detain you--I have the honour to wish +you a good journey and much happiness.” + +An attendant came from an inner apartment with a message! from Lady +Sarah, who was worse, and wished to see her mother--“Immediately!--tell +her, immediately!” + +The servant returned with the answer. Vivian was retiring, but he +came back, for he saw at that moment a convulsive motion contract Lady +Glistonbury’s face: she made an effort to walk; but if Vivian had +not supported her instantly, she must have fallen. She endeavoured to +disengage herself from his assistance, and again attempted to walk. + +“For God’s sake, lean upon me, madam!” said Vivian, much alarmed. With +his assistance, she reached the door of the inner room: summoning all +the returning powers of life, she then withdrew her arm from his, and +pointing back to the door at which Vivian entered, she said, “That is +your way, sir.” + +“Pardon me--I cannot go--I cannot leave you at this moment,” said +Vivian. + +“This is my daughter’s apartment, sir,” said Lady Glistonbury, stopping, +and standing still and fixed. Some of the attendants within, hearing her +ladyship’s voice, opened the door; Lady Glistonbury made an effort +to prevent it, but in vain: the chamber was darkened, but as the door +opened, the wind from an open window blew back the curtain, and some +light fell upon a canopy bed, where Lady Sarah lay motionless, her eyes +closed, and pale as death; one attendant chafing her temples, another +rubbing her feet: she looked up just after the door opened, and, raising +her head, she saw Vivian--a gleam of joy illumined her countenance, and +coloured her cheek. + +“Sir,” repeated Lady Glistonbury, “this is my daughter’s----” + +She could articulate no more. She fell across the threshold, struck with +palsy. Her daughter sprang from the bed, and, with Vivian’s assistance, +raised and carried Lady Glistonbury to an arm-chair near the open +window, drew back the curtain, begged Vivian to go to her father, and +instantly to despatch a messenger for medical assistance. Vivian sent +his own servant, who had his horse ready at the door, and he bid the man +go as fast as he could. + +“Then you don’t leave Glistonbury to-day, sir?” said the servant. + +“Do as I order you--Where’s Lord Glistonbury?” + +His lordship, with the newspapers and letters open in his hand, +came up--but they dropped on hearing the intelligence that Vivian +communicated. His lordship was naturally humane and good-natured; and +the shock was greater, perhaps, to him, from the sort of enmity in which +he lived with Lady Glistonbury. + +“I dread to go up stairs,” said he. “For God’s sake, Vivian, don’t +leave me in this distress!--do order your carriage away!----Put up Mr. +Vivian’s carriage.” + +Lady Sarah’s maid came to tell them that Lady Glistonbury had recovered +her speech, and that she had asked, “if Mr. Vivian was gone?” + +“Do come up with me,” cried Lord Glistonbury, “and she will see you are +not gone.” + +“Here’s my lord and Mr. Vivian, my lady,” said the girl. + +Then, turning to Lady Glistonbury’s woman, she added, in a loud whisper, +“Mr. Vivian won’t go to-day.” + +Lady Sarah gave her maid some commission, which took her out of the +room. Lady Sarah, no longer the formal, cold, slow personage whom +Vivian detested, now seemed to him, and not only seemed but was, quite +a different being, inspired with energy, and quickness, and presence +of mind: she forgot herself, and her illness, and her prudery, and +her love, and every other consideration, in the sense of her mother’s +danger. Lady Glistonbury had but imperfectly recovered her recollection. +At one moment she smiled on Vivian, and tried to stretch out her hand to +him, as she saw him standing beside Lady Sarah. But when he approached +Lady Glistonbury, and spoke to her, she seemed to have some painful +recollection, and, looking round the room, expressed surprise and +uneasiness at his being there. Vivian retired; and Lord Glistonbury, who +was crying like a child, followed, saying, “Take me out with +you--Dr. G---- ought to be here before now--I’ll send for another +physician!--Very shocking--very shocking--at Lady Glistonbury’s time of +life, too--for she is not an old woman by any means. Lady Glistonbury +is eighteen months younger than I am!--Nobody knows how soon it may be +their turn!--It’s very shocking!--If I had known she was ill, I would +have had advice for her sooner. She is very patient--too patient--a +great deal too patient. She never will complain--never tells what she +feels, body or mind--at least never tells _me_; but that may be my fault +in some measure. Should be very sorry Lady Glistonbury went out of the +world with things as they are now between us. Hope to God she will get +over this attack!--Hey! Mr. Vivian?” + +Vivian said whatever he could to fortify this hope, and was glad to see +Lord Glistonbury show feelings of this sort. The physician arrived, and +confirmed these hopes by his favourable prognostics. In the course +of the day and night her face, which had been contracted, resumed +its natural appearance; she recovered the use of her arm: a certain +difficulty of articulation, and thickness of speech, with what the +physician called hallucination of mind, and a general feebleness of +body, were all the apparent consequences of this stroke. She was not +herself sensible of the nature of the attack, or clear in her ideas of +any thing that had passed immediately previous to it. She had only an +imperfect recollection of her daughter’s illness, and of some hurry +about Mr. Vivian’s going away. She was, however, well enough to go into +her dressing-room, where Vivian went to pay his respects to her, with +Lord Glistonbury. By unremitting exertions, and unusual cheerfulness, +Lady Sarah succeeded in quieting her mother’s confused apprehensions on +her account. When out of Lady Glistonbury’s hearing, all the attendants +and the physicians repeatedly expressed fear that Lady Sarah would +over-fatigue and injure herself by this extraordinary energy; but her +powers of body and mind seemed to rise with the necessity for exertion; +and, on this great occasion, she suddenly discovered a warmth and +strength of character, of which few had ever before discerned even the +slightest symptoms. + +“Who would have expected this from Sarah?” whispered Lord Glistonbury to +Vivian. “Why, her sister did not do more for me when I was ill! I always +knew she loved her mother, but I thought it was in a quiet, commonplace +way--Who knows but she loves me too?--or might--” She came into the +room at this moment--“Sarah, my dear,” said his lordship, “where are my +letters and yesterday’s papers, which I never read?--I’ll see if there +be any thing in them that can interest your mother.” + +Lord Glistonbury opened the papers, and the first article of public news +was, “a dissolution of parliament confidently expected to take place +immediately.” This must put an end to Vivian’s scheme of going to town +to attend his duty in parliament. “But, may be, it is only newspaper +information.” It was confirmed by all Lord Glistonbury and Vivian’s +private letters. A letter from his mother, which Vivian now for the +first moment had time to peruse, mentioned the dissolution of parliament +as certain; she named her authority, which could not be doubted; and, in +consequence, she had sent down supplies of wine for an election; and she +said that she would “be immediately at Castle Vivian, to keep open house +and open heart for her son. Though not furnished,” she observed, “the +castle would suit the better all the purposes of an election; and +she should not feel any inconvenience, for her own part, let the +accommodations be what they might.” + +Lord Glistonbury directly proposed and insisted upon Lady Mary +Vivian’s making Glistonbury her head-quarters. Vivian objected: Lady +Glistonbury’s illness was an ostensible and, he hoped, would be a +sufficient excuse for declining the invitation. But Lord Glistonbury +persisted: “Lady Glistonbury, he was sure, would wish it--nothing would +be more agreeable to her.” His lordship’s looks appealed to Lady Sarah, +but Lady Sarah was silent; and, when her father positively required her +opinion, by adding, “Hey! Sarah?” she rather discouraged than pressed +the invitation. She said, that though she was persuaded her mother +would, if she were well, be happy to have the pleasure of seeing Lady +Mary Vivian; yet she could not, in her mother’s present situation, +venture to decide how far her health might be able to stand any election +bustle. + +Lady Sarah said this with a very calm voice, but blushed extremely as +she spoke; and, for the first time, Vivian thought her not absolutely +plain; and, for the first time, he thought even the formality and +deliberate coolness of her manner were not disagreeable. He liked her +more, at this moment, than he had ever imagined it possible he could +like Lady Sarah Lidhurst; but he liked her chiefly because she did not +press him into her service, but rather forwarded his earnest wish to get +away from Glistonbury. + +Lord Glistonbury appealed to the physician, and asked whether company +and amusement were not “the best things possible for his patient? +Lady Glistonbury should not be left alone, surely! Her mind should be +interested and amused; and an election would be a fortunate circumstance +just at present!” + +The physician qualified the assent which his lordship’s peremptory tone +seemed to demand, by saying, “that certainly moderate amusement, and +whatever interested without agitating her ladyship, would be salutary.” + His lordship then declared that he would leave it to Lady Glistonbury +herself to decide: quitting the end of the room where they were holding +their consultation, he approached her ladyship to explain the matter. +But Lady Sarah stopped him, beseeching so earnestly that no appeal might +be made to her mother, that Vivian was quite moved; and he settled the +business at once to general satisfaction, by declaring that, though +neither he nor Lady Mary Vivian could think of intruding as inmates +at present, yet that they should, as soon as Lady Glistonbury’s health +would permit, be as much at Glistonbury Castle as possible; and that the +short distance from his house would make it, he hoped, not inconvenient +to his lordship for all election business. Lord Glistonbury acceded, and +Lady Sarah appeared gratefully satisfied. His lordship, who always took +the task of explanation upon himself, now read the paragraph about the +dissolution aloud to Lady Glistonbury; informed her, that Lady Mary +Vivian was coming immediately to the country; and that they should hope +to see Lady Mary and Mr. Vivian almost every day, though he could +not prevail upon them to take up their abode during the election +at Glistonbury. Lady Glistonbury listened, and tried, and seemed to +understand--bowed to Mr. Vivian and smiled, and said she remembered he +was often at Glistonbury during the last election--that she was happy +to hear she should have the pleasure to see Lady Mary Vivian--that some +people disliked _election times_, but for her part she did not, when she +was strong. Indeed, the last election she recollected with particular +pleasure--she was happy that Lord Glistonbury’s interest was of +service to Mr. Vivian. Then “she hoped his canvass _to-day_ had been +successful?”--and asked some questions that showed her mind had become +confused, and that she was confounding the past with the present. Lady +Sarah and Mr. Vivian said a few words to set her right--she looked +first at one, and then at the other, listening, and then said--“I +understand--God bless you both.” Vivian took up his hat, and looked out +of the window, to see if his carriage was at the door. + +“Mr. Vivian wishes you a good morning, madam,” said Lady Sarah: “he is +going to Castle Vivian, to get things ready for Lady Mary’s arrival.” + +“I wish you health and happiness, sir,” said Lady Glistonbury, +attempting to rise, whilst some painful reminiscence altered her +countenance. + +“Pray do not stir, don’t disturb yourself, Lady Glistonbury. I shall pay +my respects to your ladyship again as soon as possible.” + +“And pray bring me good news of the election, and how the poll stands +to-morrow, Mr. Vivian,” added her ladyship, as he left the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +Vivian, who had felt oppressed and almost enslaved by his compassion, +breathed more freely when he at last found himself in his carriage, +driving away from Glistonbury. His own castle, and the preparations for +his mother’s arrival, and for the expected canvass, occupied him so much +for the ensuing days, that he had scarcely time to think of Lady Julia +or of Lady Sarah, of Russell or Selina: he could neither reflect on the +past, nor anticipate the future; the present, the vulgar present, +full of upholsterers, and paper-hangers, and butlers, and grooms, and +tenants, and freeholders, and parasites, pressed upon his attention with +importunate claims. The dissolution of parliament took place. Lady +Mary Vivian arrived almost as soon as the newspaper that brought this +intelligence: with her came a new set of thoughts, all centering in +the notion of her son’s consequence in the world, and of his +happiness--ideas which were too firmly associated in her mind ever to be +separated. She said that she had regretted his having made such a long +stay in the country during the last session, because he had missed +opportunities of distinguishing himself farther in parliament. The +preceding session her ladyship had received gratifying compliments on +her son’s talents, and on the figure he had _already_ made in public +life; she felt her self-love as well as her affection interested in +his continuing his political career with spirit and success. “As to the +present election,” she observed, “there could be little doubt that he +would be re-elected with the assistance of the Glistonbury interest; +and,” added her ladyship, smiling significantly, “I fancy your interest +is pretty strong in that quarter. The world has given you by turns to +Lady Julia and Lady Sarah Lidhurst; and I am asked continually which of +the Lady Lidhursts you are in love with. One of these ladies certainly +must be my daughter-in-law; pray, if you know, empower me to say which.” + Lady Mary Vivian spoke but half in earnest, till the extraordinary +commotion her words created in her son, convinced her that the report +had not, now at least, been mistaken. + +“Next to Miss Selina Sidney,” continued Lady Mary, “who, after her +positive and long persisted-in refusal, is quite out of the question, I +have, my dear son, always wished to see you married to one of the +Lady Lidhursts; and, of course, Lady Julia’s talents, and beauty, and +youth----” + +Vivian interrupted and hastily told his mother that Lady Julia Lidhurst +was as much out of the question as Miss Sidney could be; for that he had +offered himself, and had been refused; and that he had every reason to +believe that the determination of his second mistress against him would +be at least as absolute and unconquerable as that of his first. His +mother was in amazement. That her son could be refused by Lady Julia +Lidhurst appeared a moral and political impossibility, especially when +the desire for a connexion between the families had been so obvious on +the side of the Glistonburys. What could be the meaning of this? Lady +Julia was perhaps under an error, and fancied he was some way engaged to +Miss Sidney; “or, perhaps,” said Lady Mary, who had a ready wit for +the invention of delicate distresses, “perhaps there is some difficulty +about the eldest sister, Lady Sarah; for you know the first winter you +were given to her.--Ay, that must be the case. I will go to Glistonbury +to-morrow, and I will have Lady Julia to myself for five minutes: I +think I have some penetration, and I will know the truth.” + +Lady Mary was again surprised, by hearing from her son that Lady +Julia was not at Glistonbury--that she was gone with her brother into +Devonshire. So there was a dead silence for some minutes, succeeded by +an exclamation from Lady Mary, “There is some grand secret here--I +must know it!” Her ladyship forthwith commenced a close and able +cross-examination, which Vivian stopped at last by declaring that he +was not at liberty to speak upon the subject: he knew, he said, that his +mother was of too honourable and generous a temper to press him farther. +His mother was perfectly honourable, but at the same time extremely +curious; and though she continually repeated, “I will not ask you +another question--I would not upon any account lead you to say a +syllable that could betray any confidence reposed in you, my dear son;” + yet she indulged herself in a variety of ingenious conjectures: “I know +it is so;” or, “I am sure that I have guessed now, but I don’t ask +you to tell me.--You do right to deny it.”--Amongst the variety of her +conjectures, Lady Mary did not find out the truth; she was prepossessed +by the idea that Russell was attached to Selina Sidney--a secret which +her own penetration had discovered whilst her son was abroad with +Mrs. Wharton, and which she thought no mortal living knew but herself. +Pre-occupied with this notion, Russell was now omitted in all her +combinations. His having quitted Glistonbury did not create any +suspicion of the real cause of his sudden departure, because there was +a sufficient reason for his going to the north to see his sick relation; +and Lady Mary was too good a philosopher to assign two causes for the +same event, when she had found one that was adequate to the production +of the effect. She therefore quietly settled it in her imagination, that +Lady Julia Lidhurst was going to be married immediately to a certain +young nobleman, who had been lately at Glistonbury whilst they were +acting plays. The next day she went with Vivian to Glistonbury Castle; +for, waiving all the ceremonials of visiting, she was anxious to see +poor Lady Glistonbury, of whose illness she had been apprised, in +general terms, by her son. An impulse of curiosity, mixed perhaps with +motives of regard for her good friend Lady Glistonbury, hastened this +visit. They found Lady Glistonbury much better; she looked nearly as +well as she had done before this stroke; and she had now recovered her +memory, and the full use of her understanding. Vivian observed, that +she and Lady Sarah were both convinced, by Lady Mary Vivian’s curiosity, +that he had given no hint of any thing which they did not wish to be +known: and the pleasurable consciousness of his integrity disposed him +to be pleased with them. Lord Glistonbury, on his side, was convinced +that Vivian had behaved honourably with respect to his daughter Julia; +so all parties were well satisfied with each other. His lordship +answered Lady Mary Vivian’s inquiries after his son and his daughter +Julia by saying, that Miss Strictland had just returned to Glistonbury +with rather more favourable accounts of Lord Lidhurst’s health, and that +Julia and he were now at his brother the Bishop of ----‘s. Between this +brother and my Lord Glistonbury there had never been any great intimacy, +their characters and their politics being very different. The moment +Lady Mary Vivian heard Lord Glistonbury pronounce, with such unusual +cordiality, the words, “my brother the bishop,” she recollected that the +bishop had a very amiable, accomplished, and remarkably handsome son; +so she arranged directly in her imagination that this was the person to +whom Lady Julia was engaged. Being now thoroughly convinced that +this last conjecture was just, she thought no more about Lady Julia’s +affairs; but turned her attention to Lady Sarah, whose cold and guarded +manners, however, resisted her utmost penetration. Disappointed in all +her attempts to lead to sentiment or love, the conversation at last ran +wholly upon the approaching election, upon the canvass, and the strength +of the various interests of the county; on all which subjects Lady Sarah +showed surprisingly exact information. Presently Lord Glistonbury took +Vivian with him to his study to examine some poll-book, and then +put into his hands a letter from Lady Julia Lidhurst, which had been +enclosed in one to himself. + +“I told you that I intended to _rusticate_ Julia,” said his lordship, +“with a poor parson and his wife--relations, distant relations of +ours in Devonshire; but this plan has been defeated by my foolish good +brother the bishop. On their journey they passed close by his palace; +I charged Miss Strictland to be incog.; but they stayed to rest in the +town, for Lidhurst was fatigued; and some of the bishop’s people found +them out, and the bishop sent for them, and at last came himself. He was +so sorry for Lidhurst’s illness, and, as Miss Strictland says, so much +charmed with Julia, whom he had not seen since she was a child, that he +absolutely took possession of them; and Julia has made her party good +with him, for he writes me word he cannot part with her; that I must +allow her to remain with him; and that they will take all possible care +of Lyndhurst’s health. I believe I must yield this point to the bishop; +for altogether it looks better that Julia should be at the palace than +at the parsonage; and, though my poor brother has not the knowledge of +the world one could wish, or that is necessary to bring this romantic +girl back to reason, yet--But I keep you from reading your letter, and +I see you are impatient--Hey?--very natural!--but, I am afraid, all in +vain--I’ll leave you in peace. At any rate,” added Lord Glistonbury, +“you know I have always stood your firm friend in this business; and you +know I’m discreet.” + +Vivian never felt so grateful for any instance of his lordship’s +friendship and discretion as for that which he gave at this moment, by +quitting the room, and leaving him in peace to read his letter. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +“Before you open this letter, you will have heard, probably, that my +uncle, the Bishop of ----, has taken me under his protection. I cannot +sufficiently regret that I was not a few years, a few months, sooner, +blessed with such a Mentor. I never, till now, knew how much power +kindness has to touch the mind in the moment of distress; nor did I +ever, till now, feel how deeply the eloquence of true piety sinks into +the heart. This excellent friend will, I hope, in time restore me to my +better self. From the abstraction, the selfishness of passion, I think +I am already somewhat recovered. After being wholly absorbed by one +sentiment, I begin to feel again the influence of other motives, and to +waken to the returning sense of social duty. Among the first objects to +which, in recovering from this trance, or this fever of the soul, I have +power to turn my attention, your happiness, sir, next to that of my +own nearest relations, I find interests me most. After giving you this +assurance, I trust you will believe that, to insure the felicity, or +even to restore the health and preserve the life of any relation +or friend I have upon earth, I should not think myself justified in +attempting to influence your mind to any thing which I did not sincerely +and firmly believe would be for your permanent advantage as well as for +theirs. Under the solemn faith of this declaration, I hope that you will +listen to me with patience and confidence. From all that I have myself +seen, and from all that I have heard of your character, I am convinced +that your wife should be a woman of a disposition precisely opposite, in +many respects, to mine. Your character is liable to vary, according to +the situations in which you are placed; and is subject to sudden but +transient impressions from external circumstances. You have hitherto had +a friend who has regulated the fluctuations of your passions; now that +he is separated from you, how much will you feel the loss of his cool +and steady judgment! Should you not, therefore, in that bosom friend, a +wife, look for a certain firmness and stability of character, capable +of resisting, rather than disposed to yield, to sudden impulse; a +character, not of enthusiasm, but of duty; a mind, which, instead of +increasing, by example and sympathy, any defects of your own--pardon the +expression--should correct or compensate these by opposite qualities? +And supposing that, with such sobriety and strength of character as I +have described, there should be connected a certain slowness, formality, +and coldness of manner, which might not at first be attractive to a man +of your vivacity, let not this repel you: when once you have learned +to consider this manner as the concomitant and indication of qualities +essential to your happiness, it would, I am persuaded, become agreeable +to you; especially as, on nearer observation, you would soon discover +that, beneath that external coldness, under all that snow and ice, there +is an accumulated and concentrated warmth of affection. + +“Of this, sir, you must lately have seen an example in my own family. +At the moment when my poor mother was struck with palsy, you saw my +sister’s energy; and her character, probably, then appeared to you in a +new point of view. From this burst of latent affection for a parent, you +may form some idea what the power of the passion of love would be in her +soul; some idea, I say; for I am persuaded that none but those who +know her as well as I do can form an adequate notion of the strength of +attachment of which she is capable. + +“You will be surprised, perhaps, sir, to hear me reason so coolly for +others on a subject where I have acted so rashly for myself; and you +may feel no inclination to listen to the advice of one who has shown so +little prudence in her own affairs: therefore, having stated my reasons, +and suggested my conclusions, I leave you to apply them as you think +proper; and I shall only add, that the accomplishment of my wishes, on +this subject, would give me peculiar satisfaction. It would relieve my +mind from part of a weight of self-reproach. I have made both my parents +unhappy. I have reason to fear that the shock my mother received, by my +means, contributed much to her late illness. An event that would +restore my whole family to happiness must, therefore, be to me the most +desirable upon earth. I should feel immediate relief and delight, even +in the hope of contributing to it by any influence I can have over your +mind. And, independently of the pleasure and pride I should feel +in securing my sister’s happiness and yours, I should enjoy true +satisfaction, sir, in that intimate friendship with you, which only the +ties of such near relationship could permit or justify. You will accept +of this assurance, instead of the trite and insulting, because unmeaning +or unsafe, offer of friendship, which ladies sometimes make to those who +have been their lovers. + +“JULIA LIDHURST. + +“---- Palace:” + + +At the first reading of this letter, Vivian felt nothing but a renewal +of regret for having lost all chance of obtaining the affections of the +person by whom it was written: on a second perusal, he was moved by the +earnest expression of her wishes for his happiness; and the desire to +gratify her, on a point on which she was so anxious, influenced him much +more than any of her arguments. Whatever good sense the letter contained +was lost upon him; but all the sentiment operated with full force, yet +not with sufficient power to conquer the repugnance he still felt to +Lady Sarah’s person and manners. Lord Glistonbury made no inquiries +concerning the contents of his daughter Julia’s letter; but, as far +as politeness would permit, he examined Vivian’s countenance when he +returned to the drawing-room. Lady Glistonbury’s manner was as calm as +usual; but the slight shake of her head was a sufficient indication +of her internal feelings. Lady Sarah looked pale, but so perfectly +composed, that Vivian was convinced she, at least, knew nothing of +her sister’s letter. So great indeed was the outward composure, and so +immoveable was Lady Sarah, that it provoked Lady Mary past endurance; +and as they drove home in the evening, she exclaimed, “I never saw +such a young woman as Lady Sarah Lidhurst! She is a stick, a stone, a +statue--she has completely satisfied my mind on one point. I own that +when I found Lady Julia was out of the question, I did begin to think +and wish that Lady Sarah might be my daughter-in-law, because she +has really been so carefully brought up, and the connexion with the +Glistonbury family is so desirable: then I had a notion, before I saw +her this morning, that the girl liked you, and might be really capable +of attachment; but now, indeed, I am convinced of the folly of that +notion. She has no feeling--none upon earth--scarcely common sense! +She thinks of nothing but how she holds her elbows. The formality and +importance with which she went on cutting off ends of worsted from that +frightful tapestry work, whilst I talked of you, quite put me out of all +manner of patience. She has no feeling--none upon earth!” + +“Oh, ma’am,” said Vivian, “you do her injustice: she certainly has +feeling--for her mother.” + +“Ay, for her mother, may be! a kind of mechanical affection!” + +“But, ma’am, if you had seen her at the time that her mother was struck +with palsy!” + +Much to his own surprise, Vivian found himself engaged in a defence, and +almost in an eulogium upon Lady Sarah; but the injustice of his mother’s +attack, on this point, was, he knew, so great, that he could not join in +Lady Mary’s invective. + +“Why, my dear Charles!” said she, “do you recollect, on this very road, +as we were returning from Glistonbury Castle, this time two years, you +called Lady Sarah a petrifaction?” + +“Yes, ma’am; because I did not know her then.” + +“Well, my dear, I must have time to analyze her more carefully, and +I suppose I shall discover, as you have done, that she is not a +petrifaction. So, then, Lady Sarah really is to be the woman after all. +I am content, but I absolutely cannot pretend to like her--I like the +connexion, however; and the rest is your affair.--You haven’t proposed +yet?” + +“Bless me! no, ma’am! God forbid! How fast your imagination goes, my +dear mother!--Is there no difference between saying, that a woman is not +a petrifaction, and being in love with her?” + +“In love! I never said a word about being in love--I know that’s +impossible--I asked only if you had proposed for her?” + +“Dear ma’am, no!” + +Lady Mary expressed her satisfaction; and, perhaps, the injustice with +which she continued, for some days, to asperse Lady Sarah Lidhurst, as +being unfeeling, served her more, in Vivian’s opinion, than any other +mode in which she could have spoken of her ladyship. Still he felt glad +that he had not _yet proposed_. He had not courage either to recede or +advance; circumstances went on, and carried him along with them, without +bringing him to any decision. The business of the election proceeded; +every day Lord Glistonbury was with him, or he was at Glistonbury +Castle; every hour he saw more plainly the expectations that were +formed: sometimes he felt that he was inevitably doomed to fulfil these, +and at other times he cherished the hope that Lady Julia would soon +return home, and that, by some fortunate revolution, she might yet be +his. He had not now the advantage of Russell’s firmness to support +him in this emergency. Russell’s answer to his letter was so coolly +determined, and he so absolutely declined interfering farther in his +affairs, that Vivian saw no hopes of regaining his friendship, or of +benefiting by his counsels. Thus was Vivian in all the helplessness +and all the horrors of indecision, when an event took place, which +materially changed the face of affairs in the Glistonbury family. Just +at the time when the accounts of his health were the most favourable, +and when his friends were deceived by the most sanguine hopes of his +recovery, Lord Lidhurst died. His mother was the only person in +the family who was prepared for this catastrophe: they dreaded to +communicate the intelligence to her, lest it should bring on another +attack of her dreadful malady; but to their astonishment, she heard it +with calm resignation,--said she had long foreseen this calamity, and +that she submitted to the will of Heaven. After pity for the parents who +lost this amiable and promising young man, heir to this large fortune +and to this splendid title, people began to consider what change would +be made in the condition of the rest of the family. The Lady Lidhursts, +from _being very small fortunes_, became heiresses to a large +estate. The earldom of Glistonbury was to devolve to a nephew of Lord +Glistonbury, in case the Lady Lidhursts should not marry, or should not +have heirs male; but, in case they should marry, the title was to go +to the first son. All these circumstances were of course soon known and +talked of in the neighbourhood; and many congratulated Vivian upon the +great accession of fortune, and upon the high expectations of the lady +to whom they supposed him engaged. + +On the first visit which Vivian and his mother paid after the death of +Lord Lidhurst at Glistonbury Castle, they found there a young man very +handsome, but of a dark, reserved countenance, whose physiognomy and +manner immediately prepossessed them against him; on his part, he seemed +to eye them with suspicion, and to be particularly uneasy whenever +Vivian either mentioned the election or approached Lady Sarah. This +young man was Mr. Lidhurst, Lord Glistonbury’s nephew and heir-at-law. +It was obvious, almost at first sight, that the uncle disliked the +nephew; but it was not so easy to perceive that the nephew despised the +uncle. Mr. Lidhurst, though young, was an excellent politician; and his +feelings were always regulated by his interests. He had more abilities +than Lord Glistonbury, less vanity, but infinitely more ambition. In +Lord Glistonbury, ambition was rather affected, as an air suited to +his rank, and proper to increase his consequence: Mr. Lidhurst’s was an +earnest, inordinate ambition, yet it was cold, silent, and calculating; +his pride preyed upon him inwardly, but it never hurried him into saying +or doing an extravagant thing. Those who were not actuated solely +by ambition, he always looked upon as fools, and those who were, he +considered, in general, as knaves: the one he marked as dupes, the other +as rivals. He had been at the Bishop of ----‘s, during Lord Lidhurst’s +illness, and at the time of his death. Ever since Lady Julia’s arrival +at the bishop’s, he had foreseen the probability of this event, and had, +in consequence of the long-sightedness of his views, endeavoured to make +himself agreeable to her. He found this impossible; but was, however, +easily consoled by hearing that she had resolved never to marry; he only +hoped that she would keep her resolution; and he was now at Glistonbury +Castle, in the determination to propose for his other cousin, Lady +Sarah, who would, perhaps, equally well secure to him his objects. + +“Well! my dear Vivian,” said Lord Glistonbury, drawing him aside, “how +d’ye relish my nephew, Marmaduke Lidhurst? Need not be afraid to speak +the truth, for I tell you at once that he is no particular favourite +here; not _en bonne odeur_; but that’s only between you and me. He +thinks that I don’t know that he considers me as a shallow fellow, +because I haven’t my head crammed with a parcel of statistical tables, +all the fiscal and financiering stuff which he has at his calculating +fingers’ ends; but I trust that I am almost as good a politician as he +is, and I’m free to believe, have rather more knowledge of the world-- + + ‘In men, not books, experienced was my lord’-- + +Hey? Hey, Vivian? and can see through him with half an eye, I can tell +him.--Wants to get Lady Sarah--Yes, yes; but never came near us till we +lost my poor boy--he won’t win Lady Sarah either, or I’m much mistaken. +Did you observe how jealous he was of you?--Right!--right!--he has +penetration!--Stay, stay! you don’t know Marmaduke yet--don’t know half +his schemes. How his brow clouded when we were talking of the election! +I must hint to you, he has been sounding me upon that matter; he has a +great mind to stand for this county--talks of starting at the first day +of the poll. I told him it could not do, as I was engaged to you. He +answered, that of course was only a conditional promise, in case none of +my own relations stood. I fought shy, and he pressed confoundedly.--Gad! +he would put me in a very awkward predicament, if he was really to +stand! for you know what the world would say, if they saw me opposing +my own nephew, a rising young man, and not for a relation either; and +Marmaduke Lidhurst is just your deep fellow to plan such a thing +and execute it, not caring at what or whose expense. I can tell him, +however, I am not a man to be bullied out of my interest, or to be +outwitted either.--Stand firm, Vivian, my good friend, and I’ll stand +by you; depend on me!--I only wish----” Here his lordship paused. “But +I cannot say more to you now; for here is my precious heir-at-law coming +to break up the confederacy. I’ll ride over and see you to-morrow;--now, +let us all be mute before Marmaduke, our master politician, as becomes +us--Hey! Vivian? Hey?” + +Notwithstanding this sort of jealousy of Marmaduke, and the bravadoing +style in which Lord Glistonbury spoke of him, he spoke to him in a very +different manner: it was apparent to Vivian that his lordship was +under some awe of his nephew, and that, whilst he cherished this secret +dislike, he dreaded coming to any open rupture with a man who was, as +his lordship apprehended, so well able to make his own party good in the +world. When Marmaduke did emerge from that depth of thought in which he +generally seemed to be sunk, and when he did condescend to converse, +or rather to speak, his theme was always of persons in power, or his +sarcasms against those who never would obtain it; from any one thing he +asserted, it could never be proved, but, from all he said, it might +be inferred, that he valued human qualities and talents merely as they +could, or could not, obtain a price in the political market. The power +of speaking in public, as it is a means in England of acquiring all +other species of power, he deemed the first of Heaven’s gifts; and +successful parliamentary speakers were the only persons of whom he +expressed admiration. As Vivian had spoken, and had been listened to +in the House of Commons, he was in this respect an object of Marmaduke +Lidhurst’s envy; but this envy was mitigated by contempt for our hero’s +want of perseverance in ambition. + +“There is that Mr. Vivian of yours,” said he to his uncle, whilst Vivian +was gone to talk to the ladies--“you’ll find he will be but a woman’s +man, after all!--Heavens! with his fluency in public, what I would +have done by this time of day! This poor fellow has no consistency of +ambition--no great views--no reach of mind. Put him in for a borough, +and he would be just as well content as if he carried the county. You’ll +see he will, after another session or two, cut out, and retire without a +pension, and settle down into a mere honest country gentleman. He would +be no connexion to increase the consequence of your family. Lady Sarah +Lidhurst would be quite lost with such a nobody! Her ladyship, I am +convinced, has too much discrimination, and values herself too highly, +to make such a _missy_ match.” + +Lord Glistonbury coughed, and cleared his throat, and blew his nose, +and seemed to suffer extremely, but chiefly under the repression of his +usual loquacity. Nothing could be at once a greater proof of his respect +for his nephew’s abilities, and of his lordship’s dislike to him, than +this unnatural silence. Mr. Lidhurst’s compliments on Lady Sarah’s +discrimination seemed, however, to be premature, and unmerited; for, +during the course of this day, she treated all the vast efforts of her +cousin Marmaduke’s gallantry with haughty neglect, and showed, what +she had never before suffered to be visible in her manner, a marked +preference for Mr. Vivian’s conversation. The sort of emulation which +Mr. Lidhurst’s rivalship produced increased the value of the object; +she, for whom there was a contention, immediately became a prize. Vivian +was both provoked and amused by the alternate contempt and jealousy +which Mr. Lidhurst betrayed; this gentleman’s desire to keep him out +of the Glistonbury family, and to supplant him in Lady Sarah’s favour, +piqued him to prove his influence, and determined him to maintain +his ground. Insensibly, Vivian’s attentions to the lady became more +vivacious; and he was vain of showing the ease, taste, and elegance of +his gallantry; and he was flattered by the idea, that all the spectators +perceived both its superiority and its success. Lady Sarah, whose +manners had much improved since the departure of Miss Strictland, was +so much embellished by our hero’s attentions, that he thought her quite +charming. He had been prepared to expect fire under the ice, but he was +agreeably surprised by this sudden spring of flowers from beneath the +snow. The carriage was at the door in the evening, and had waited half +an hour, before he was aware that it was time to depart. + +“You are right, my dear son!” Lady Mary began, the r moment they were +seated in the carriage; “you are quite right, and I was quite wrong, +about Lady Sarah Lidhurst: she has feeling, indeed--strong, generous +feeling--and she shows it at the proper time: a fine, decided character! +Her manners, to-day, so easy, and her countenance so animated, really +she looked quite handsome, and I think her a charming woman.--What +changes love can make!--Well, now I am satisfied: this is what I always +wished--connexion, family, fortune, every thing; and the very sort of +character you require in a wife,--the very person, of all others, that +is suited to you!” + +“If she were but a little more like her sister--or Selina Sidney +_even!_” said Vivian, with a sigh. + +“That very word _even_--your saying like Selina Sidney _even_--shows +that you have not much cause for sighing: for you see how quickly +the mere fancy in these matters changes--and you may love Lady Sarah +presently, as much as you loved _even_ Lady Julia.” + +“Impossible! ma’am.” + +“Impossible! Why, my dear Charles, you astonish me! for you cannot but +see the views and expectations of all the family, and of the young lady +herself; and your attentions to-day were such as could bear but one +construction.” + +“Were they, ma’am? I was not aware of that at the time--that is, I did +not mean to engage myself--Good Heavens! surely I am not engaged?--You +know a man is not bound, like a woman, by a few foolish words; +compliments and gallantry are not such serious things with us men. Men +never consider themselves engaged to a woman till they make an absolute +proposal.” + +“I know that is a common maxim with young men of the present day, but I +consider it as dishonourable and base; and very sorry should I be to see +it adopted by my son!” cried Lady Mary indignantly. “Ask your friend +Mr. Russell’s opinion on this point: he long ago told you--I know he +did--that if you had not serious thoughts of Lady Sarah Lidhurst, you +would do very wrong, after all the reports that have gone abroad, to +continue your intimacy with the Glistonburys, and thus to deceive her +and her whole family--I only appeal to Mr. Russell;--will you ask your +friend Russell’s opinion?” + +Vivian sighed again deeply for the loss of his friend Russell; but as he +could not, without touching upon Lady Julia’s affairs, explain the cause +of the coolness between him and his friend, he answered only, “that an +appeal to Mr. Russell was unnecessary when he had his mother’s opinion.” + Lady Mary’s wish for the Glistonbury _connexion_ fortified her morality +at this moment, and she replied, “Then my decided opinion is, that +it would be an immoral and dishonourable action to break such a tacit +engagement as this, which you have voluntarily contracted, and which you +absolutely could not break without destroying the peace and happiness of +a whole family. Even that cold Lady Glistonbury grew quite warm to-day; +and you must see the cause.--And in Lady Glistonbury’s state of health, +who could answer for the consequences of any disappointment about her +favourite daughter, just after the loss of her son, too?” + +“No more, mother, for Heaven’s sake! I see it all--I feel it all--I must +marry Lady Sarah, then.--By what fatality am I doomed, am I forced +to marry a woman whom I cannot love, whose person and manners are +peculiarly disagreeable to me, and when I’m half in love with another +woman!” + +“That would be a shocking thing, indeed,” said Lady Mary, retracting, +and alarmed; for now another train of associations was wakened, and she +judged not by her worldly, but by her romantic system.--“I am sure I +would not, upon any account, urge you to act against your feelings. I +would not be responsible for such a marriage, if you are really in love +with her sister, and if Lady Sarah’s person and manners are peculiarly +and absolutely disagreeable to you. I should do a very wicked +action--should destroy my son’s happiness and morals, perhaps, by +insisting on such a marriage--Heaven forbid!” (A silence of a mile and +a half long ensued.) “But, Charles, after all I saw to-day, how can I +believe that Lady Sarah is so disagreeable to you?” + +“Ma’am, she happened not to be absolutely disagreeable to me to-day.” + +“Oh! well! then she may not happen to be disagreeable to you to-morrow, +or the next day, or ever again!--And, as to the fancy for her sister, +when all hope is over, you know love soon dies of itself.” + +So ended the conversation.--The next morning, at an unusual hour, Lord +Glistonbury made his appearance at Castle Vivian, with an air of great +vexation and embarrassment: he endeavoured to speak of trivial topics; +but, one after another, these subjects dropped. Then Lady Mary, who saw +that he was anxious to speak to her son, soon took occasion to withdraw, +not without feeling some curiosity, and forming many conjectures, as to +the object his lordship might have in view in this conference. + +Lord Glistonbury’s countenance exhibited, in quick alternation, a look +of absolute determination and of utter indecision. At length, with +abrupt effort, he said, “Vivian, have you seen the papers to-day?” + +“The newspapers?--yes!--no!--They are on the table--I did not look at +them--Is there any thing extraordinary?” + +“Yes, faith!--extraordinary, very extraordinary!--But it is not here--it +is not there--this is not the right paper--it is not in your paper. +That’s extraordinary, too”--(then feeling in both pockets)--“I was a +fool not to bring it with me--May be I have it--Yes, here it is!--Not +public news, but private.” + +Vivian was all expectation, for he imagined that something about Lady +Julia was coming. Lord Glistonbury, who, in his commerce with public +men, had learned the art of paying in words, to gain time when in danger +of a bankruptcy of ideas, went on, stringing sentences together, without +much meaning, whilst he was collecting his thoughts and studying the +countenance of his auditor. + +“You recollect my suggestions the last time I had the honour of speaking +to you on a particular subject. I confess, Mr. Lidhurst’s conduct does +not meet my ideas of propriety; but other persons are free to form what +judgment they think fit upon the occasion. I shall submit the matter to +you, Mr. Vivian, feeling myself called upon to come forward immediately +to explain it to your satisfaction; and I do not fear to commit myself, +by stating at once my sentiments, and the light in which it strikes me; +for there must be some decision shown, somehow or other, and on some +side or other.----Decision is all in all in public business, as +the great Bacon or somebody says--and nobody knows that better than +Marmaduke.” + +Here his lordship grew warm, and quitting his parliamentary cant, +assumed his familiar style. + +“Gad! he has stolen a march upon us--out-generalled us--but, in +my private opinion, not in the handsomest style possible--Hey, +Vivian?--Hey?” + +“My dear lord, I have not heard the fact yet,” said Vivian. + +“Oh! the fact is simply--Look here, he has without my encouragement +or concurrence--and, indeed, as he very well knew, contrary to my +approbation and wishes--gone, and declared himself candidate for this +county; and here’s his fine flourishing, patriotic, damned advertisement +in the paper--‘To the gentlemen, clergy, and freeholders of the +county.’----Gad! how it startled me this morning! When I first saw it +I rubbed my eyes, and could hardly believe it was Marmaduke. Though I +pique myself on knowing a man’s style at the first line, yet I could not +have believed it was his, unless I had seen his name at full +length in these great abominable characters--‘John Marmaduke +Lidhurst.’--‘Glastonbury Castle!’ too--as if I had countenanced the +thing, or had promised my support; when he knew, that but yesterday I +was arguing the point with him in my study, and told him I was engaged +to you. Such an ungentlemanlike trick!--for you know it reduces me +to the dilemma of supporting a man who is only my friend, against my +nearest relation by blood, which, of course, would have an odd and +awkward appearance in the eyes of the world!” + +Vivian expressed much concern for his lordship’s difficulties; but +observed that the world would be very unjust if it blamed him, and he +was sure his lordship had too much decision of character. + +“But, independently of the world,” interrupted his lordship, “even in +our own family, amongst all the Lidhursts and their remotest connexions, +there would be quite a league formed against me; and these family +quarrels are ugly affairs; for though our feudal times are done away, +party clanships have succeeded to feudal clanships; and we chiefs of +parties must keep our followers in good humour, or we are nothing in +the _field_--I should say _in the house_--Ha! ha! ha!----I laugh, but it +is a very serious business; for Marmaduke Lidhurst would be, in private +or public, an impracticable enemy. Marmaduke’s a fellow capable of +inextinguishable hatred; and he is everywhere, and knows every body, +of all the clubs, a rising young man, who is listened to, and who would +make his story credited. And then, with one’s nephew, one can’t settle +these things in _an honourable way_--these family quarrels must be +arranged amicably, not honourably; and that’s the difficulty: the laws +of honour are dead letters in these cases, and the laws of the land do +not reach these niceties of feeling.----But of the most important fact +you are still to be apprised.” + +“Indeed!” cried Vivian. + +“Yes, you have not yet heard Marmaduke’s master-stroke of policy!” + +“No!--What is it, my lord?--I am all attention--pray explain it to me.” + +“But there’s the delicacy--there’s the difficulty!--No, no, no.--Upon +my soul, I cannot name it!” cried Lord Glistonbury. “It revolts my +feelings--all my feelings--as a man, as a gentleman, as a father. Upon +my honour, as a peer, I would speak if I could; but, for the soul of me, +I cannot.” + +“You know, my dear lord,” said Vivian, “there can be no delicacies +or difficulties with me; your lordship has done me the honour to live +always on such a footing of intimacy with me, that surely there is not +any thing you cannot say to me!” + +“Why, that’s true,” said Lord Glistonbury, quitting his affected air +of distress, and endeavouring to throw off his real feeling of +embarrassment: “you are right, my dear Vivian! we are certainly upon +terms of such intimacy, that I ought not to be so scrupulous. But there +are certain things, a well-born, well-bred man--in short, it would look +so like--But, in fact, I am driven to the wall, and I must defend myself +as well as I can against this nephew of mine--I know it will look +like the most horrible thing upon earth, like what I would rather be +decapitated than do--I know it will look, absolutely, as if I came +here to ask you to marry my daughter,--which, you know, is a thing no +gentleman could have the most remotely in his contemplation; but, since +I am so pressed, I must tell you the exact truth, and explain to you, +however difficult, Marmaduke’s master-stroke----he has proposed for Lady +Sarah; and has had the assurance to ask me whether there is or is not +any truth in certain reports which he is pleased to affirm have gone +abroad--Heaven knows how or why!----And he urges me--the deep dog! for +his cousin’s sake, to contradict those reports, in the only effectual +manner, by a temporary cessation of the intimate intercourse between +Castle Vivian and Glistonbury Castle, whilst Lady Sarah remains +unmarried; or, if our master politician would speak plainly, till he has +married her himself.----At any rate, I have spoken frankly, Vivian, hey? +you’ll allow; and I am entitled both to a candid interpretation of my +motives, and to equal frankness of reply.” + +Whilst his lordship had been speaking, compassion, gratitude, vanity, +rivalship, honour, Lady Mary Vivian’s conversation, Lady Julia’s letter, +then again the _connexion_, the earldom in future, the present triumph +or disappointment about the election, the insolent intrusion of Mr. +Lidhurst, the cruelty of abandoning a lady who was in love with him, the +dishonour, the impossibility of receding after _certain reports_; all +these ideas, in rapid succession, pressed on Vivian’s mind: and his +decision was in consequence of the feelings and of the embarrassment of +the moment. His reply to Lord Glistonbury was a proposal for Lady Sarah, +followed by as many gallant protestations as his presence of mind +could furnish. He did not very well know what he said, nor did Lord +Glistonbury scrupulously examine whether he had the air and accent of +a true lover, nor did his lordship inquire what had become of Vivian’s +late love for Lady Julia; but, quite content that the object should be +altered, the desire the same, he relieved Vivian by exclaiming, “Come, +come, all this sort of thing Lady Sarah herself must hear; and I’ve +a notion--but I can keep a secret. You’ll return with me directly to +Glistonbury. Lady Glistonbury will be delighted to see you; and I shall +be delighted to see Marmaduke’s face, when I tell him you have actually +proposed for Sarah--for now I must tell you all. Our politician +calculated upon the probability that you would not decide, you see, +to make a proposal at once, that would justify me to the world in +supporting my son-in-law against my nephew. As to the choice of the +son-in-law, Sarah settles that part of the business herself, you know; +for, when two proposals are made, both almost equally advantageous, in +the common acceptation of the word, I am too good a father not to +leave the decision to my daughter. So you see we understand one another +perfectly, and will make Marmaduke, too, understand us perfectly, +contrary to his calculations, hey, hey?----Mr. Politician, your +advertisement must be withdrawn, I opine, in the next paper--hey, +Vivian? my dear Vivian!” + +With similar loquacity, Lord Glistonbury continued, in the fulness of +his heart, all the way they went together to Glistonbury Castle; which +was agreeable to Vivian, at least by saving him from all necessity of +speaking. + +“So!” said Vivian to himself, “the die is cast, and I have actually +proposed for Lady Sarah Lidhurst!--Who would have expected this two +years ago?--I would not have believed it, if it had been foretold to +me even two months ago. But it is a very--a very suitable match, and +it will please the friends of both parties; and Lady Sarah is certainly +very estimable, and capable of very strong attachment; and I like her, +that is, I liked her yesterday very much--I really like her.” + +Upon those mixed motives, between convenience and affection, from which, +Dr. Johnson says, most people marry, our hero commenced his courtship of +the Lady Sarah Lidhurst. As the minds of both parties on the subject are +pretty well known to our readers, it would be cruel to fatigue them +with a protracted description of the formalities of courtship. It is +sufficient to say, that my Lord Glistonbury had the satisfaction of +seeing his nephew disappointed. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +“And the marriage was solemnized with much pomp and magnificence, and +every demonstration of joy.” + +Novelists and novel readers are usually satisfied when they arrive +at this happy catastrophe; their interest and curiosity seldom go any +farther: but, in real life, marriage is but the beginning of domestic +happiness or misery. + +Soon after the celebration of Vivian’s nuptials, an event happened which +interrupted all the festivities at Glistonbury, and which changed the +bridal pomp to mourning. Lady Glistonbury, who had been much fatigued by +the multitude of wedding-visits she was obliged to receive and return, +had another stroke of the palsy, which, in a few hours, terminated +fatally. Thus, the very event which Vivian had dreaded, as the probable +consequence of his refusal to marry her daughter, was, in fact, +accelerated by the full accomplishment of her wishes. After the loss +of her mother, Lady Sarah Vivian’s whole soul seemed to be engrossed by +fondness for her husband. In public, and to all eyes but Vivian’s, her +ladyship seemed much the same person as formerly: but, in private, the +affection she expressed for him was so great, that he frequently asked +himself whether this could be the same woman, who, to the rest of +the world, and in every other part of her life, appeared so cold and +inanimate. On a very few occasions her character, before her marriage, +had, “when much enforced, given out a hasty spark, and straight was +cold again;” but now she permitted the steady flame to burn without +restraint. Duty and passion had now the same object. Before marriage, +her attachment had been suppressed, even at the hazard of her life; she +had no idea that the private demonstrations of unbounded love from a +married woman to her husband could be either blameable or dangerous: she +believed it to be her duty to love her husband as much as she possibly +could.--Was not he her husband? She had been taught that she should +neither read, speak, nor think of love; and she had been so far too much +restricted on this subject, that, absolutely ignorant and unconscious +even of her danger, she now pursued her own course without chart or +compass. Her injudicious tenderness soon imposed such restraint upon +her husband, as scarcely any lover, much less any husband, could have +patiently endured. She would hardly ever suffer him to leave her. +Whenever he went out of the house, she exacted from him a promise that +he would _be back again_ at a certain hour; and if he were even a +few minutes later than his appointment, he had to sustain her fond +reproaches. Even though he stayed at home all day, she was uneasy if +he quitted the room where she sat; and he, who by this time understood, +through all her exterior calmness, the symptoms of her internal +agitation, saw by her countenance that she was wretched if he seemed +interested in the conversation of any other person, especially of any +other woman. + +One day when Vivian, after spending the morning _tête-à-tête_ with Lady +Sarah, signified to her his intention of dining abroad, she repeated her +fond request that he would be sure to come home early, and that he would +tell her at what o’clock exactly she might expect to see him again. He +named an hour at hazard, to free himself from her importunate anxiety; +but he could not help saying, “Pshaw!” as he ran down stairs; an +exclamation which fortunately reached only the ears of a groom, who was +thinking of nothing but the tops of his own boots. Vivian happened to +meet some agreeable people where he dined: he was much pressed to stay +to supper; he yielded to entreaty, but he had the good-natured attention +to send home his servant, to beg that Lady Sarah and his mother would +not sit up for him. When he returned, he found all the family in bed +except Lady Sarah, who was sitting up waiting for him, with her watch +in her hand. The moment he appeared, she assailed him with tender +reproaches, to which he answered, “But why would you sit up when I +begged you would not, my dear Lady Sarah?” + +She replied by a continuity of fond reproach; and among other things she +said, but without believing it to be true, “Ah! I am sure you would have +been happier if you had married my sister Julia, or _that_ Miss Sidney!” + +Vivian sighed deeply; but the next instant, conscious that he had +sighed, and afraid of giving his wife pain, he endeavoured to turn the +course of her thoughts to some other subject. In vain. Poor Lady Sarah +said no more, but felt this exquisitely, and with permanent anguish. +Thus her imprudence reverted upon herself, and she suffered +in proportion to her pride and to her fondness. By such slight +circumstances is the human heart alienated from love! Struggling to +be free, the restive little deity ruffles and impairs his plumage, and +seldom recovers a disposition to tranquillity. Vivian’s good-nature had +induced him for some time to submit to restraint; but if, instead of +weakly yielding to the fond importunity of his wife--if, instead of +tolerating the insipidity of her conversation and the narrowness of +her views, he had with real energy employed her capacity upon suitable +objects, he might have made her attachment the solace of his life. +Whoever possesses the heart of a woman, who has common powers of +intellect, may improve her understanding in twelve months more than +could all the masters, and lectures, and courses of philosophy, and +abridgments, and _documenting_ in the universe. But Vivian had not +sufficient resolution for such an undertaking: he thought only of +avoiding to give or to feel present pain; and the consequences were, +that the evils he dreaded every day increased. + +Vivian’s mother saw the progress of conjugal discontent with anguish and +remorse. + +“Alas!” said she to herself, “I was much to blame for pressing this +match. My son told me he could never love Lady Sarah Lidhurst. It would +have been better far to have broken off a marriage at the church-door +than to have forced the completion of such an ill-assorted union. +My poor son married chiefly from a principle of honour; his duty and +respect for my opinion had also great weight in his decision; and I have +sacrificed his happiness to my desire that he should make what the world +calls a splendid alliance. I am the cause of all his misery; and Heaven +only knows where all this will end!” + +In her paroxysm of self-reproach, and her eagerness to _set things to +rights_ between her daughter-in-law and her son, she only made matters +worse. She spoke with all the warmth and frankness of her own character +to Lady Sarah, beseeching her to speak with equal openness, and to +explain the cause of the _alteration_ in Vivian. + +“I do not know what you mean, madam, by alteration in Mr. Vivian!” + +“Is not there some disagreement between you, my dear?” + +“There is no disagreement whatever, madam, as far as I know, between Mr. +Vivian and me--we agree perfectly,” said Lady Sarah. + +“Well, the _misunderstanding_!” + +“I do not know of any _misunderstanding_, madam. Mr. Vivian and I +understand one another perfectly.” + +“The _coolness_, then--Oh! what word shall I use!--Surely, my dear Lady +Sarah, there is some _coolness_--something wrong?” + +“I am sure, madam, I do not complain of any coolness on Mr. Vivian’s +part. Am I to understand that he complains to your ladyship of any thing +wrong on mine? If he does, I shall think it my duty, when he points out +the particulars, to make any alteration he may desire in my conduct and +manners.” + +“Complain!--My son!--He makes no _complaints_, my dear. You +misunderstand me. My son does not complain that any thing is wrong on +your part.” + +“Then, madam, if no complaints are made on either side, all is as it +should be, I presume, at present; and if in future I should fail in any +point of duty, I shall hold myself obliged to your ladyship if you will +then act as my monitor.” + +Hopeless of penetrating Lady Sarah’s sevenfold fence of pride, the +mother flew to her son, to try what could be done with his open and +generous mind. He expressed a most earnest and sincere wish to make +his wife happy. Conscious that he had given her exquisite pain, he +endeavoured to make atonement by the sacrifices which he thought +would be most grateful to her. He refrained often from company and +conversation that was agreeable to him, and would resign himself for +hours to her society. It was fortunate for Lady Julia Lidhurst that, +by continuing with her good uncle the bishop, she did not see the +consequences of the union which she had so strenuously advised. The +advice of friends is often highly useful to prevent an imprudent match; +but it seldom happens that marriages turn out happily which have been +made from the opinion of others rather than from the judgment and +inclinations of the parties concerned; for, let the general reasons +on which the advice is grounded be ever so sensible, it is scarcely +possible that the adviser can take in all the little circumstances +of taste and temper, upon which so much of the happiness or misery of +domestic life depends. Besides, people are much more apt to repent of +having been guided by the judgment of another than of having followed +their own; and this is most likely to be the case with the weakest +minds. Strong minds can decide for themselves, not by the opinions but +by the reasons that are laid before them: weak minds are influenced +merely by opinions; and never, either before or after their decision, +are firm in abiding by the preponderating reasons. + +No letters, no intelligence from home, except a malicious hint now +and then from her cousin Marmaduke, which she did not credit, gave her +reason to suspect that the pair whom she had contributed to unite were +not perfectly happy. So Lady Julia exulted in the success of her past +counsels, and indulged her generous romantic disposition in schemes for +forwarding a union between Russell and Selina, determining to divide her +fortune amongst the children of her friends. She concluded one of her +letters to Lady Sarah Vivian about this time with these words:-- + + +“Could I but see _one other person_,--whom I must not name, rewarded for +his virtues, as you are, by happy love, I should die content, and would +write on my tomb:-- + + ‘Je ne fus point heureux, mais j’ai fait leur bonheur.” [10] + +Far removed from all romance and all generosity of sentiment, Lord +Glistonbury, in the mean time, went on very comfortably, without +observing any thing that passed in his family. Whatever uneasiness +obtruded upon his attention he attributed to one cause, anxiety relative +to the question on which his present thoughts were exclusively fixed, +viz. whether Lady Sarah’s first child would be a boy or a girl. “Heaven +grant a boy!” said his lordship; “for then, you know, there’s an end +of Marmaduke as heir-at-law!” Whenever his lordship saw a cloud on the +brows of Lady Mary, of Lady Sarah, or of Vivian, he had one infallible +charm for dispelling melancholy;--he stepped up close to the patient, +and whispered, “It will be a boy!--My life upon it, it will be a boy!” + Sometimes it happened that this universal remedy, applied at random, +made the patient start or smile; and then his lordship never failed to +add, with a nod of great sagacity, “Ah! you didn’t know I knew what you +were thinking of!--Well! well! you’ll see we shall cut out Marmaduke +yet.” + +With this hope of cutting out Marmaduke, Lord Glistonbury went on very +happily, and every day grew fonder of the son-in-law, who was the enemy +of his heir-at-law, or whom he considered as such. The easiness of +Vivian’s temper was peculiarly agreeable to his lordship, who enjoyed +the daily pleasure of governing a man of talents which were far superior +to his own. This easiness of temper in our hero was much increased by +the want of motive and stimulus. He thought that he had now lost his +chance of happiness; he cared little for the more or less pain of +each succeeding day; and so passive was his listlessness, that to +a superficial observer, like Lord Glistonbury, it looked like the +good-nature of perfect content.--Poor Vivian!--In this wreck of his +happiness, one saving chance, however, yet remained. He had still a +public character; he was conscious of, having preserved unblemished +integrity as a member of the senate; and this integrity, still more than +his oratorical talents, raised him far above most of his competitors, +and preserved him not only in the opinion of others, but in his own. +When parliament met, he went to town, took a very handsome house for +Lady Sarah, determining to do all he could to oblige and please the +wife whom he could not love. Lady Sarah had complete power, at home +and abroad, of her time and her expenses: her dress, her equipages, +her servants, her whole establishment, were above Vivian’s fortune, and +equal to her ladyship’s birth and rank. She was mistress of every thing +but of his heart. The less he liked her, the more he endeavoured to +compensate for this involuntary fault, by allowing her that absolute +dominion, and that external splendour, which he thought would gratify, +and perhaps fill her mind. As for himself, he took refuge in the House +of Commons. There he forgot for a time domestic uneasiness, and was +truly animated by what so many affect--zeal for the good of his country. +He was proud to recollect, that the profligate Wharton had failed in +the attempt to laugh him out of his public virtue; he was proud that +Wharton’s prophecies of his apostasy had never been accomplished; that, +as a public! character at least, he had fulfilled the promise of his +early youth, and was still worthy of himself, and of that friend whom he +had lost. He clung to this idea, as to the only hope left him in life. + +One night, in a debate on some question of importance, he made an +excellent speech, which was particularly well received by the house, +because it came from one who had an unblemished character. When +Vivian went into the coffee-room to refresh himself, after he had done +speaking, several of his acquaintance crowded round him, complimenting +him upon his success--he broke from them all! for he saw, advancing +towards him with a smile of approbation, the friend on whose approbation +he set a higher value than he did even on the applauses of the +house--the friend whose lost affection he had so long and so bitterly +regretted. Russell stretched out his hand--Vivian eagerly seized +it; and, before they had either of them spoken one word, they both +understood each other perfectly, and their reconciliation was completely +effected. + +“Yes,” said Russell, as they walked out arm in arm together, “yes, it +is fit that I should forget all private resentment, in the pride and +pleasure I feel, not merely in your public success, but in your public +virtue. Talents, even the rare talent of oratory, you know, I hold +cheap in comparison with that which is so far more rare, as well as more +valuable--political integrity. The abhorrence and contempt of political +profligacy, which you have just expressed, as a member of the senate, +and the consistent conduct by which you have supported your principles, +are worthy of you; and, allow me to say, of your education.” + +Vivian felt exalted in his own opinion by such praise, and by these the +warmest expressions he had ever received of Russell’s regard. He forgot +even his domestic uneasiness; and this day, the first for many months he +had spent happily, he passed with his friend. They supped together, and +related mutually all that happened since their parting. Russell told +Vivian that he had lately been agreeably surprised by the gift of a +valuable living from the Bishop of ----, Lady Julia Lidhurst’s uncle; +that the bishop, whom he had till then never seen, had written to him +in the handsomest manner, saying that he knew the obligations his family +owed to Mr. Russell; that it had been the dying request of his nephew, +Lord Lidhurst, that some token of the family esteem and gratitude should +be offered to him, to whom they owed so much; but the bishop added, that +neither family gratitude nor private friendship could have induced him +to bestow church preferments upon any but the person whose character +best entitled him to such a distinction and such a trust. + +This letter, as Vivian observed, was well calculated to satisfy +Russell’s conscience and his delicacy. The conversation next turned upon +Lady Julia Lidhurst. Russell was not aware that Vivian knew more of her +attachment to him than what had been discovered the day before he left +Glistonbury; and Vivian could not help admiring the honourable and +delicate manner in which his friend spoke of her, without any air of +mystery, and with the greatest respect. He told Vivian he had heard that +proposals had been lately made to her ladyship by a gentleman of great +talents and of high character; but that she had positively declined his +addresses, and had repeated her declaration that she would never marry. +Her good uncle left her, on this point, entirely at liberty, and did not +mention the proposal to Lord Glistonbury, lest she should be exposed to +any fresh difficulties. Russell expressed much satisfaction at this part +of the bishop’s conduct, as being not only the most kind, but the +most judicious, and the most likely to dispose his niece to change her +determination. He repeated his opinion that, united to a man of sense +and strength of mind, she would make a charming and excellent wife. +Vivian agreed with him; yet observed, that he was convinced she would +never marry--There he paused.--Could Lady Julia herself have overheard +the conversation which afterwards passed between these two gentlemen, +one of whom she had loved and the other of whom she had refused, not a +word would have hurt her feelings: on the contrary, she would have been +raised in her own opinion, and gratified by the strong interest they +both showed for her happiness. They regretted only that a young woman +of such talents, and of such a fine, generous disposition, had been so +injudiciously educated. + +“And now, my dear Russell,” cried Vivian, “that we have finished the +chapter of Lady Julia, let us talk of Miss Sidney.”--Russell’s change +of countenance showed that it was not quite so easy for him to talk upon +this subject.--To spare him the effort, Vivian resumed, “As you are a +rich man now, my dear Russell, you will certainly marry; and I know,” + added he, smiling, “that Miss Sidney will be your wife. If ever man +deserved such a prize, you do; and I shall be the first to wish you +joy.” + +“Stay, my good friend,” interrupted Russell; “your kindness for me, +and your imagination, are too quick in this anticipation of my +happiness.”--Russell then told him, that he never had declared his +attachment to Selina till Vivian’s marriage had put an end to all +probability of rivalship with his friend. She had expressed high esteem +for Russell, but had told him, that she had suffered so much from +a first unfortunate attachment, that she felt averse from any new +engagements. + +“Shall I assure you, as you assured me just now with regard to Lady +Julia,” said Vivian, “that Miss Sidney will he prevailed upon to alter +her determination; and shall I add, that, though I should like Lady +Julia the less, I should like Selina the better, for changing her +mind?”--He went on, generously expressing sincere hopes, that his friend +might obtain Selina Sidney’s affections, and might enjoy that domestic +happiness, which--Vivian was going to say, which he had himself +forfeited; but checking this regret, he only said--“that domestic +happiness, which I consider as the summit of human felicity, and which +no man can deserve better than you do, my dear Russell.” + +Russell easily guessed that poor Vivian had not attained this summit +of human felicity by his own marriage, but never adverted to any of the +conversations they had held about Lady Sarah Lidhurst; never recalled +any of Vivian’s vehement declarations concerning the absolute +impossibility of his making such a match; never evinced the least +surprise at his marriage; nor inquired how he had conquered his passion +for Lady Julia. With friendly forgetfulness, he seemed to have totally +obliterated from his mind all that it could do no good to remember. +Vivian was sensible of this delicacy, and grateful for it; but to +imitate Russell’s reserve and silence upon certain subjects required +a force, a forbearance of which he was not capable. At first he had +determined not to say one word to Russell of domestic uneasiness; but +they had not been many hours together before Vivian poured forth all +his complaints, and confessed how bitterly he repented his marriage: be +declared that he had been persuaded, by the united efforts of her family +and of his mother, against his own judgment, or, at least, against his +taste and inclinations, to marry Lady Sarah. + +“By whatever persuasions, or by whatever motives, your choice was +decided,” interrupted Russell, “reflect that it is decided for life; +therefore abide by it, and justify it. Above all, make yourself happy +with the means which are yet in your power, instead of wasting your mind +in unavailing regret. You are united to a woman who has every estimable +quality, as you candidly acknowledge: there are some particulars in +which she does not please your taste; but withdraw your attention from +these, and you will be happy with a wife who is so firmly attached to +you. Consider, besides, that--romance apart--love, though a delightful +passion, is not the only resource which a man of sense, virtue, and +activity may find for happiness. Your public duties, your success, and +your reputation as a public character, will--” + +Russell was interrupted in this consolatory and invigorating speech, by +the entrance of a servant of Lord Glistonbury’s, who brought a note from +his lordship to Mr. Vivian, requesting to see him as soon as he could +make it convenient to come to Glistonbury House, as his lordship wanted +to speak to him on particular business of the greatest importance. +Vivian was provoked by being thus summoned away from his friend, to +attend to one of what he called Lord Glistonbury’s _important mysteries +about nothing_. Russell was engaged to go into the country the ensuing +day, to take possession of his new living; but he promised that he would +see him again soon; and, with this hope, the two friends parted. + +Vivian went to Lord Glistonbury’s: he found his lordship in his study. +“Where have you been, Vivian?” exclaimed he: “I have sent messenger +after messenger to look for you, half over the town: I thought you were +to have dined with us, but you ran away, and nobody could tell where, or +with whom; and we have been waiting for you at our cabinet council here +with the utmost impatience.”--Vivian answered, that he had unexpectedly +met with his friend Russell; and was proceeding to tell his lordship +how handsomely the Bishop of----had provided for his friend; but Lord +Glistonbury, like many other great men, having the habit of forgetting +all the services of those from whom they have nothing more to expect, +cut short Vivian’s narration, by exclaiming, “True, true! well, well! +that’s all over now--Certainly, _that_ Russell did his duty by my poor +son; and acted as he ought to do--in all things; and I’m glad to hear +my brother has given him a good living; and I hope, as you say, he will +soon be married--so best--so best, you know, Vivian, for reasons of our +own--Well! well! I’m glad he is provided for--not but what that living +would have been of essential service, if it had been reserved for a +friend of mine--but my brother the bishop never can enter into any +political views--might as well not have a brother a bishop--But, +however, Mr. Russell’s a friend of yours--I am not regretting--not so +rude to you to regret----on the contrary, rejoice, particularly as Mr. +Russell is a man of so much merit--But all that’s over now; and I want +to talk to you upon quite another matter. You know I have always said I +should, sooner or later, succeed in my grand object, hey, Vivian?” + +“Your lordship’s grand object?--I am not sure that I know it.” + +“Oh, surely, you know my grand object. You my son-in-law, and forget my +grand object?--The marquisate, you know; the marquisate, the marquisate! +Did not I always tell you that I would make government, sooner or later, +change my earldom into a marquisate? Well! the thing is done--that is, +as good as done; they have sent to treat with me upon my own terms.” + +“I give you joy, my dear lord!” said Vivian. + +“Joy!--to be sure you do, my sober sir:--one would think you had no +concern or interest in the business. Joy! to be sure you give me joy; +but, I can tell you, you must give me something more than joy--you must +give me support.” + +“How he looks!” continued Lord Glistonbury, “as if he did not know +what is meant by support. Vivian, did you never hear of parliamentary +support?” + +“I hope, my dear lord,” replied Vivian, gravely, “that you have not +entered into any engagements, or made any promises for me, which I +cannot have it in my power to perform.” + +Lord Glistonbury hesitated in some confusion; and then, forcing a look +of effrontery, in an assured tone, replied, “No. I have not made any +engagements or promises for you which you cannot perform, Vivian, I am +clear; nor any which I have not a right to expect my son-in-law will +confirm with alacrity.” + +“What have you engaged?--what have you promised for me, my lord?” said +Vivian, earnestly. + +“Only, my dear boy,” said Lord Glistonbury, assuming a facetious tone, +“only that you will be always one of us--And are not you one of us?--my +son-in-law?--the deuce is in it if he is not one of us!--In short, you +know, to be serious, a party must go together, that is, a family party +must go together; and, if a ministry do my business, of course I do +theirs. If I have my marquisate, they have my votes.” + +“But not my vote--pardon me, my lord--my vote cannot be bartered in this +manner.” + +“But, you know, Mr. Vivian, you know it is for your interest as much as +for mine; for, you know, the marquisate will probably descend, in due +course of time, to your son. So your interest is full as much concerned +as mine; and besides, let me tell you, I have not forgotten your +immediate interest: I have stipulated that you should have the valuable +place which Mr. C---- was to have had.” + +All that Russell had said of public virtue was fresh in our hero’s mind. +“I thank you, my dear lord,” said he; “for I am sure this was kindly +intended; but I am not one of those persons, who in public affairs think +only of their private interest--I am not thinking of my interest. But +if a man maintains certain public measures one day, and the next, for +_valuable consideration_, supports diametrically opposite opinions +and measures, he will lose, and deserve to lose, all reputation for +integrity.” + +“Integrity! political integrity!” said Lord Glistonbury; “fine words, +which mean nothing. Behind the scenes, as we are now, Vivian, what use +can there be in talking in that strain?--Between you and me, you know +this is all nonsense. For who, of any party, now thinks, really and +truly, of any thing but getting power or keeping it? Power, you know, +stands for the measure of talent; and every thing else worth having is +included in that word power. I speak plainly. And as honour is merely +an affair of opinion, and opinion, again, an affair of numbers, and as +there are numbers enough to keep one in countenance in these things; +really, my dear Vivian, it is quite childish, quite boyish, smells of +the lamp. To declaim about political integrity, and all that, is not +the language of a man who knows any thing of business--any thing of the +world.--But why do I say all this?” cried Lord Glistonbury, checking +himself and assuming an air of more reserved displeasure.--“Mr. +Vivian certainly knows all this as well as I do; I know how my nephew +Marmaduke, who, with all his faults, is no fool, would interpret your +present language: he would say, as I have often heard him say, that +political integrity is only a civil _put off_.” + +“Political integrity only a civil put off!” repeated Vivian, with +unfeigned astonishment. When he formerly heard similar sentiments from +the avowed profligate and hackneyed politician Mr. Wharton, he was +shocked; but to hear them repeated, as being coolly laid down by so +young a man as Mr. Lidhurst, excited so much disgust and contempt in +Vivian’s mind, that he could hardly refrain from saying more than either +prudence or politeness could justify. + +“Now I am free to confess,” pursued Lord Glistonbury, “that I should +think it more candid and manly, and, I will add, more friendly, and more +the natural, open conduct of a son-in-law to a father-in-law, instead of +talking of political integrity, to have said, at once, I cannot oblige +you in this instance.” + +“Surely, my lord, you cannot be in earnest?” said Vivian. + +“I tell you, sir, I am in earnest,” cried his lordship, turning suddenly +in a rage, as he walked up and down the room; “I say, it would have +been more candid, more manly, more every thing,--and much more like a +son-in-law--much!--much!----I am sure, if I had known as much as I do +now, sir, you never should have been my son-in-law--never! never!--seen +Lady Sarah in her grave first!--I would!--I would!--yes, sir--I +would!----And you are the last person upon earth I should have expected +it from. But I have a nephew--I have a nephew, and now I know the +difference. No man can distinguish his friends till he tries them.” + +Vivian in vain endeavoured to appease Lord Glistonbury by assurances +that he would do any thing in his power to oblige him, except what +he himself considered as dishonourable: his lordship reiterated, with +divers passionate ejaculations, that if Vivian would not oblige him in +this point, on which he had set his heart--where the great object of his +life was at stake--he could never believe he had any regard for him; and +that in short, it must come to an open rupture between them, for that +he should never consider him more as his son. Having uttered this +denunciation as distinctly as passion would permit, Lord Glistonbury +retired to rest. + +Vivian went immediately to his mother, to tell her what had passed, and +he felt almost secure of her approbation; but though she praised him for +his generous spirit of independence, yet it was evident the hopes that +the title of marquis might descend to a grandson of her own weighed more +with her than any patriotic considerations. She declared, that indeed +she would not, for any title, or any thing upon earth, have her son +act dishonourably; but what was asked of him, as far as she could +understand, was only such a change of party, such compliances, as every +public man in his place would make: and though she would not have him, +like some she could name, a corrupt tool of government, yet, on the +other hand, it was folly to expect that he alone could do any thing +against the general tide of corruption--that it would be madness in +him to sacrifice himself entirely, without the slightest possibility of +doing any good to his country. + +Vivian interrupted her, to represent that, if each public man argued +in this manner, nothing could ever be accomplished for the public good: +that, on the contrary, if every man hoped that something might be done, +even by his individual exertion, and if he determined to sacrifice a +portion of his private interest in the attempt, perhaps much might be +effected. + +“Very likely!” Lady Mary said. She confessed she knew little of +politics: so from argument she went to persuasion and entreaties. She +conjured him not to quarrel with the Glistonburys, and not to provoke +Lord Glistonbury’s displeasure. “I see all that artful Marmaduke’s +schemes,” said she: “he knows his uncle’s pertinacious temper; and he +hopes that your notions of patriotism will prevent you from yielding on +a point, on which his uncle has set his heart. Marmaduke will know how +to take advantage of all this, believe me!” + +Vivian was shaken in his resolution by his mother’s entreaties--by +the idea of all the family quarrels that would ensue, and of all the +difficulties in which he might be involved, if he persisted in his +generous determination. + +“My dear son,” resumed she, “it would be absolute madness to refuse +the place that is now offered you: only consider the situation of your +affairs--consider, I beseech you, the distress you will be in by and +by, if you reject this offer--recollect the immense demands upon you; +recollect that heap of bills for the election, and for the buildings, +and all the poor workmen about the castle! and that coachmaker too! and +remember, the purchase money of the house in town must be paid in three +months. And the only possible means by which you can get out of debt, is +by accepting this place, which would put you at ease at once, and enable +you to continue in the style of life to which you have of late been +accustomed.” + +“As to that, I could alter my style of life--I would do any thing,” + cried Vivian, “to pay my debts and preserve my independence. I will +alter my mode of living, and retrench decidedly and vigorously.” + +“Well, my dear son, I admire your spirit, and, if you can do this, it +will certainly be best; but I fear that when it comes to the trial, you +will not be able to persevere.” + +“I shall--I shall! Believe me, mother, I have resolution enough for +this--you do me injustice,” said Vivian. + +“No, my dear Charles, I do you justice; for I do not doubt your +resolution, as far as your own privations are concerned; but, consider +your wife--consider Lady Sarah--consider the luxury in which she +has always been accustomed to live, and the high sphere in which her +relations move! How her pride would be hurt by their looking down +upon her! I have no doubt Lady Sarah would do her duty, and make +any sacrifices for her husband; and if you were--I must now speak +plainly--if you were passionately fond of her--an all-for-love +husband--you could, with honour and propriety, accept of such +sacrifices; but what would retirement be _to_ poor Lady Sarah, and +_with_ Lady Sarah?” + +Vivian told his mother that he would take a night to reconsider the +matter coolly; and, satisfied with having gained so much, she suffered +him to go home. As he was quitting his own dressing-room, he paused, +to consider whether he should consult his wife, who was, as yet, in +ignorance of the whole transaction, and who knew nothing of the deranged +state of his affairs. He did her the justice to believe that she +would be willing to live with him in retirement, and to forego all the +luxuries and pride of her rank, for the sake of her duty and of her +love. He was convinced that, in any opposition between her father’s +interests and her husband’s honour, she would strongly abide by her +husband. He recollected all Lady Julia had said of the advantage that +her sister’s firmness of mind might be in steadying his vacillating +temper in any moment of trial. Here was the first _great occasion_, +since his marriage, where his wife’s strength of mind could be of +essential service to him: yet he hesitated whether he should avail +himself of this advantage; and every moment, as he approached nearer +to her apartment, he hesitated more and more; He did not, in the first +place, like to humble himself so far as to ask her counsel; then he +had not courage to confess those debts and embarrassments which he +had hitherto concealed. All that his mother had suggested about the +indelicacy of requiring or accepting great sacrifices from a woman whom, +though he esteemed, he could not love--the horror of retirement +with such a companion--the long years _tête-à-tête_--all these ideas +combined, but chiefly the apprehension of the immediate present pain of +speaking to her on a disagreeable subject, and of being obliged to hear +her speak with that formal deliberation which he detested; added to +this, the dread of her surprise, if not of her reproaches, when all his +affairs should be revealed, operated so irresistibly upon his weakness, +that he decided on the common resource--concealment. His hand was upon +the lock of his chamber-door, and he turned it cautiously and softly, +lest, in entering his apartment, he should waken Lady Sarah: but she was +not asleep. + +“What can have kept you so late, Mr. Vivian?” said she. + +“Business, my dear,” answered he, with some embarrassment. + +“May I ask what sort of business?” + +“Oh!--only--political business.” + +“Political business!” She looked earnestly at her husband; but, as if +repressing her curiosity, she afterwards added, “our sex have nothing +to do with politics,” and, turning away from the light, she composed +herself to sleep. + +“Very true, my dear,” replied Vivian--not a word more did he say: +content with this evasion of the difficulty, he thus, by his weakness, +deprived himself of the real advantage of his wife’s strength of mind. +Whilst Lady Sarah, in total ignorance of the distress of her husband, +slept in peace, he lay awake, revolving painful thoughts in the +silence of the night. All that his mother had said about the pecuniary +difficulties to which they must soon be reduced recurred with fresh +force; the ideas of the unpaid election bills, all the masons’, +carpenters’, painters’, glaziers’, and upholsterers’ bills, with +“thousands yet unnamed behind,” rose, in dreadful array, before him, +and the enthusiasm of his patriotism was appalled. With feverish +reiteration, he ran over and over, in his mind, the same circle of +difficulties, continually returning to the question, “_Then what can +be done?_” Bitterly did he this night regret the foolish expenses into +which he had early in life been led. If it were to do over again, he +certainly would not turn his house into a castle; if he had foreseen how +much the expense would surpass the estimates, assuredly nothing could +have tempted him to such extravagance. The architect, the masons, the +workmen, one and all, were knaves; but, one and all, they must be +paid. Then what could he do?--And the debts incurred by the contested +elections!--contested elections are cursed things, when the bills come +to be paid; but, cursed or not, they must be paid. Then what could he +do?--The distress in which he should involve his generous mother--the +sacrifices he should require from his wife--the family quarrels--all +that Lady Sarah would suffer from them--the _situation_ of his wife. +Then what could he do?--He MUST submit to Lord Glistonbury, and take the +place that was offered to him. + +Vivian sighed--and turned in his bed--and sighed--and thought--and +turned--and sighed again--and the last sigh of expiring patriotism +escaped him!----To this end, to this miserable end, must all patriotism +come, which is not supported by the seemingly inferior virtues of +prudence and economy. + +Poor Vivian endeavoured to comfort himself by the reflection that he +should not act from merely mercenary considerations, but that he +was compelled to yield to the solicitations of his mother and of his +father-in-law; that he was forced to sacrifice his own public opinions +to secure domestic peace, and to prevent the distress of his mother, +the misery, and perhaps danger, of his wife and child. Dereliction of +principle, in these circumstances, was something like an amiable, a +pardonable weakness. And then, see it in what light you will, as Lord +Glistonbury observed, “there are so many who will keep a patriot in +countenance now-a-days, for merely changing sides in politics. A man is +not even thought to be a man of talents till he gets something by his +talents. The bargain he makes--the price he gains--is, in most people’s +estimation, the value of the public man.” + +All this Vivian said to himself to quiet his conscience; and all this, +he knew, would be _abundantly satisfactory_ to the generality of people +with whom he associated; therefore, from them he could fear neither +reproach nor contempt: but he could not bear even to think of +Russell--he felt all the pangs of remorse, and agony of shame, as the +idea of such a friend came into his mind. Again he turned in his bed, +and groaned aloud--so loud, that Lady Sarah wakened, and, starting up, +asked what was the matter; but receiving no answer, she imagined that +she had been in a dream, or that her husband had spoken in his sleep. +He groaned no more, nor did he even sigh: but fatigued with thinking and +with feeling, he at last fell into a sort of slumber, which lasted till +it was time to rise. Before Vivian was dressed, Lord Glistonbury called +upon him--he went into his dressing-room. His lordship came with his +best address, and most courteous face of persuasion; he held out his +hand, in a frank and cordial manner, as he entered, begging his dear +son’s pardon for the warmth and want of temper, he was free to confess, +he had shown last night; but he was persuaded, he said, that Vivian knew +his sincere regard for him, and convinced that, in short, they should +never _essentially_ differ: so that he was determined to come to talk +the matter over with him when they were both cool; and that he felt +assured that Vivian, after a night’s reflection, would always act so +as to justify his preference of his son-in-law to his nephew, hey, +Vivian?--Lord Glistonbury paused for an answer--Vivian cut himself as he +was shaving, and was glad of a moment’s reprieve; instead of answering, +he only exclaimed, “Cursed razor! cut myself!--My lord, won’t you sit +down? will you do me the honour to--” + +Lord Glistonbury seated himself; and, in regular order, with his +tiresome parade of expletives, went through all the arguments that could +be adduced to prove the expediency of Vivian’s taking this place, and +assisting him, as he had taken it for granted his son-in-law would, +on such an occasion. The letters of the great and little men who had +negotiated the business of the marquisate were then produced, and +an account given of all that had passed _in confidence_; and Lord +Glistonbury finished by saying that the affair was absolutely concluded, +he having passed his word and pledged his honour for Vivian; that he +would not have spoken or acted for him if he had not felt that he was, +when acting for his son-in-law, in fact acting for himself--his second +self; that there had been no time to wait, no possibility of consulting +Vivian; that the whole plan was suggested yesterday, in two hours after +the house broke up, and was arranged in the evening; that search and +inquiries had been made every where for Vivian; but, as he could not be +found, Lord Glistonbury said he had ventured to decide for him, and, as +he hoped, for his interest and for that of the family; and the thing, +now done, could not be undone: his lordship’s word was sacred, and could +not be retracted. + +Vivian, in a feeble, irresolute tone, asked if there was no possibility +of his being allowed to decline the place that was offered him, and +suggested that he could take a middle course; to avoid voting against +his lordship’s wishes, he could, and he believed that he would, accept +of the Chiltern Hundreds, and go out of parliament for the session. + +Lord Glistonbury remonstrated against what he termed the madness of the +scheme. + +“A man like you, my dear Vivian, who have distinguished yourself so +much already in opposition, who will distinguish yourself so much more +hereafter in place and in power----” + +“No,” said Vivian, rising as he finished shaving himself; “no, my lord, +I shall never more distinguish myself, if I abandon the principles I +believe to be just and true. What eloquence I have--if I have any--has +arisen from my being in earnest: I shall speak ill--I shall not be able +to speak at all--when I get up against my conscience.” + +“Oh!” said Lord Glistonbury, laughing, “your romantic patriotism may be +very nice in its feelings; but, believe me, it will not deprive you of +the use of your speech. Look at every one of the fine orators of our +times, and name me one, if you can, who has not spoken, and spoken +equally well, on both sides of the house; ay, and on both sides of most +political questions. Come, come, you’ll find you will get on quite as +well as they got on before you, hey?” + +“You will find that I shall be of no use to you--that I shall be a dead +weight on your hands.” + +“You a dead weight! you, who are formed to be--now, really, without +flattery--you know there’s no occasion for flattery between you and +me--to be the soul, and, in time, the head of a party----Stay!--I know +all you are going to say, but give me leave to judge--You know there’s +my own nephew, a very clever young man, no doubt, he is allowed to be; +and yet, you see, I make no comparison between you. I assure you I am a +judge in these matters, and you see the house has confirmed my judgment; +and, what is more--for I can keep nothing from you--if it won’t make you +too vain, and make you set too high a price upon yourself, which will be +very troublesome in the present case; but, I say, be that as it may, +I will frankly own to you, that I believe you have been of essential +service in procuring me this great favourite object of my life, the +marquisate.” + +“I, my lord! impossible!--for I never took the slightest step toward +procuring it.” + +“Pardon me, you took the most effectual step, without knowing it, +perhaps. You spoke so well in opposition, that you made it the interest +of ministry to _muzzle you_; and there was no way so effectual of +getting at you as through me, I being your father-in-law and you my +heir. You don’t see the secret concatenation of these things with a +glance as I do, who have been used to them so long. And there was no way +of coming to the point with me without the marquisate--that was my _sine +qua non_; and you see I gained my point--by your means, chiefly, I am +free to allow--though Marmaduke would gladly persuade me it was by his +negotiating. But I do you justice; I did you justice, too, in more than +words, when I stipulated for that place for you, which, in fact, I knew +you could not go on much longer without. So, my dear Vivian, all this +explained to our mutual satisfaction, we have nothing more to do but to +shake hands upon it and go down stairs; for I have engaged myself and +Secretary----to breakfast with you, and he has _full powers_, and is to +carry back our _capitulation_--and,” continued Lord Glistonbury, looking +out of the window, “here’s our friend’s carriage.” + +“Oh, my lord, it is not yet too late!” cried Vivian; “it may yet be +arranged otherwise. Is there no way--no possibility----” + +A loud knock at the house door. + +“I wish to Heaven, my lord!----” + +“So do I wish to Heaven, with all my soul, that you would finish this +nonsense, my dear Vivian, and come down to breakfast. Come, come, +come!--Hey, hey, hey!--This is absolutely too ridiculous, and I must go, +if you don’t. Only consider a political breakfast of this nature!” + +Lord Glistonbury hurried down stairs:--reluctantly, and with a heavy +heart and repugnant conscience, Vivian followed. At this instant, he +wished for Russell, to prevent what he knew would be the consequence of +this interview. But Russell was absent--the keeper of his conscience, +the supporter of his resolution, was not at hand. Woe to him who is not +the keeper of his own conscience--the supporter of his own resolution! +The result of this political breakfast was just what every reader, +who knows the world but half as well as Lord Glistonbury knew it, has +probably long since anticipated. The capitulation of the patriots of +the Glistonbury band, with Vivian at their head, was settled. Lord +Glistonbury lost no character by this transaction, for he had none to +lose--he was quite at his ease, or quite callous. But Vivian bartered, +for a paltry _accommodation_ of his pecuniary difficulties, a reputation +which stood high in the public opinion--which was invaluable in his +own--which was his last stake of happiness. He knew this--he felt it +with all the anguish of exquisite but USELESS sensibility. + +Lord Glistonbury and his new friend, Secretary ----, who was a man of +wit as well as a politician, rallied Vivian upon his gravity and upon +his evident depression of spirits. + +“Really, my dear Vivian,” cried Lord Glistonbury, “my patience is now +exhausted, and I must not let you expose yourself here, before our +friend, as a novice--Hey! hey!--Why, will you never open your eyes, and +see the world as it is! Why! what!--Did you never read the fable of the +dog and his master’s meat?--Well! it is come to that now in England; +and he is a foolish dog, indeed, who, when he can’t save the meat, won’t +secure his share--hey?” + +His lordship and the secretary laughed in concert. + +“Look, how Vivian preserves his solemnity!” continued Lord Glistonbury; +“and he really looks as if he was surprised at us. My dear Vivian, it +requires all my knowledge of your _bonne foi_ to believe that you are in +earnest, and not acting the part of a patriot of _older_ times.” + +“Oh!” cried the secretary, with a facetious air, “Mr. Vivian assuredly +knows, as well as we do, that-- + +‘A patriot is a fool in ev’ry age, Whom all lord chamberlains allow the +stage.’ + +But off the stage we lay aside heroics, or how should we ever get +on?--Did you hear, my lord,” continued the secretary, turning to Lord +Glistonbury, “that there is another blue riband fallen in to us by the +death of Lord G----?” + +“I had a great regard for poor Lord G----. Many applications, I suppose, +for the vacant riband?” + +From the vacant riband they went on to talk over this man’s pension and +the other man’s job; and considered who was to get such and such a +place when such and such a person should resign or succeed to something +better. Then all the miserable mysteries of ministerial craft were +unveiled to Vivian’s eyes. He had read, he had heard, he had believed, +that public affairs were conducted in this manner; but he had never, +till now, actually seen it: he was really novice enough still to feel +surprise at finding that, after all the fine professions made on all +sides, the main, the only object of these politicians, was to keep their +own, or to get into the places of others. Vivian felt every moment his +disgust and his melancholy increase. “And it is with these people I +have consented to act! And am I to be hurried along by this stream of +corruption to infamy and oblivion! Then Russell--” + +Vivian resolved to retract the engagement he had just made with Lord +Glistonbury and the secretary, and he waited only for a pause in their +conversation to explain himself. But, before any pause occurred, more +company came in,--the secretary hurried away, saying to Vivian, who +would have stopped him at the door, “Oh, my dear sir, every thing is +settled now, and you must be with us in the house to-night--and you will +find the whole business will go on as smoothly as possible, if gentlemen +will but act together, and strengthen the hands of government. I beg +pardon for breaking away--but so many people are waiting for me--and any +thing further we can settle when we meet in the house.” + +Lord Glistonbury also refused to listen to farther explanations--said +that all was settled, and that it was impossible to make any +recantations. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +The hour of going to the House of Commons at length arrived; Lord +Glistonbury saw that Vivian was so much out of spirits, and in such +confusion of mind, that he began to fear that our hero’s own account +of himself was just, and that he would not be able to command ideas, +or even words, when he was to speak in opposition to what he called his +principles and his conscience. “This son of mine, instead of being our +great Apollo, will be a dead weight on our hands, unless we can contrive +to raise his spirits.” + +So, to raise his spirits, Lord Glistonbury accompanied him to the +coffee-room of the house, and insisted upon his taking some refreshment +before he should attempt to speak. His lordship _fortified_ him with +bumper after bumper, till at last Vivian came up to the speaking point. +He took his seat in his new place in the house, and, endeavouring +to brave away the sense of shame, rose to speak. Notwithstanding the +assistance of the wine, and the example of Mr. Marmaduke Lidhurst, who +spoke before him with undaunted assurance, Vivian could scarcely get on +with a hesitating, confused, inconsistent speech, uttered in so low and +indistinct a voice, that the reporters in the gallery complained that +they could not catch this honourable member’s meaning, or that his words +did not reach them. Conscious of his failure, and still more conscious +of its cause, he retired again to the coffee-room as soon as he had +finished speaking, and again Lord Glistonbury plied him with wine, +saying that he would find he would _do very well in reply_ presently. +It happened that Lord Glistonbury was called away--Vivian remained. Mr. +Wharton, with a party of his friends, entered the coffee-room. Wharton +seemed much heated both with wine and anger--he was talking eagerly +to the gentlemen with him, and he pronounced the words, “Infamous +conduct!--Shabby!--Paltry fellow!” so loud, that all the coffee-room +turned to listen. Colonel S----, a gentleman who was one of Wharton’s +party, but who had a good opinion of Vivian, at this moment took him by +the arm, and, drawing him aside, whispered, in confidence, that he was +persuaded there had been some _mistake_ in the arrangements, which, as +it was reported, Lord Glistonbury had just made with the ministry, for +that Mr. Wharton and many of his lordship’s former party, complained of +having been shamefully deserted. “And to break our word and honour +to our party, is a thing no gentleman _can_ do. Wharton had a direct +promise from his lordship, that he never would _come in_ till he should +_come in_ along with him. And now it is confidently said, that Lord +Glistonbury has made his bargain for his own marquisate, and provided +only for himself, his nephew, and his son-in-law.” + +Thrown into the utmost consternation by the idea of this double +forfeiture of honour, this breach both of public and private faith, +Vivian, after thanking Colonel S---- for his friendly manner of +communicating this information, and declaring that the transaction was +totally unknown to him, begged that the colonel would do him the favour +and the justice to be present when he should require an explanation from +Lord Glistonbury. To this Colonel S---- consented, and they hastened +in search of his lordship: his lordship was not to be found; but Mr. +Marmaduke Lidhurst was, however, in the coffee-room, and upon Vivian’s +referring to him, he could not deny the truth of the charge, though he +used all his powers of circumlocution to evade giving a direct answer. +The shame, the indignation, that rapidly succeeded to each other in +Vivian’s countenance, sufficiently convinced Colonel S---- that he had +no share in the _private_ part of this disgraceful transaction; and he +very handsomely assured Vivian, that he would set the matter in its +true point of view with his friends. Marmaduke soon found a pretence to +withdraw--some member was speaking in the house, whom he must hear, he +said, and away he went. + +At this moment Mr. Wharton, who was walking down the room with his +friends, passed by Vivian, and, as he passed, said, + +“That _private vices are public benefits_, we all know; but that public +vices are private benefits, some of us, alas! have yet to learn. But I’d +have that little, whiffling, _most noble and puissant prince_ expectant, +his majesty’s _right trusty and entirely beloved cousin_ elect, know, +that plain Bob Wharton is not a man to be duped and deserted with +impunity.” + +“Whom does he mean?--What does he mean?” whispered some of the +bystanders. “What prince is he talking of?--Which of the princes?” + +“Oh! none of the princes,” replied another. “You know _most noble and +puissant prince_ is the title of a marquis, and _our right trusty and +entirely beloved cousin_, the style in which the king writes to him.” + +“But who is this marquis expectant?” + +“Don’t you know?--Lord Glistonbury.” + +“But some of his lordship’s friends ought to take it up, surely.” + +“Hush!--his son-in-law will hear you.” + +“Where?” + +“There--don’t look!” + +Vivian was, with reason, so much exasperated by the treacherous +duplicity of Lord Glistonbury’s conduct, that he was ill inclined to +undertake his lordship’s defence, and determined to leave it to himself, +or to his nephew; yet the whispers operated not a little upon his +weakness. Wharton, who was walking with his set up and down the room, +again came within Vivian’s hearing, and, as he passed, exclaimed, +“_Public vice!_ and _public virtue!_ precious, well-matched pair!” + +“Who is _public vice_, and who is _public virtue_?” said one of +Wharton’s companions. + +“Don’t you know?” replied Wharton: “the heir-at-law and the son-in-law.” + +On hearing this speech, Vivian, who knew that he was one of the persons +to whom it alluded, started forward to demand an explanation from +Wharton: but Colonel S---- held him back. “You are not called upon, by +any means, to take notice of this,” said the colonel: “Wharton did not +address himself to you, and though he might mean what he said for you, +yet he speaks under a false impression; and besides, he is not quite +sober. Leave it to me, and I will settle it all to your satisfaction +before to-morrow.” Vivian listened unwillingly and uneasily to the +friendly counsel: he was more hurt than he had ever before felt himself +by any of Wharton’s sarcasms, because there was now in them a mixture of +truth; and a man seldom feels more irritable than when he is conscious +that he is partly to blame, and apprehensive that others will think him +more blameable than he really is. His irritability was increased by +the whispers he had heard, and the looks he now perceived among the +bystanders: the voice, the opinion of numbers, the fear of what others +would think or say, operated against his better judgment. + +“Come,” said Colonel S----, “let us go and see what they are doing in +the house.” + +Vivian refused to stir, saying that it would be leaving the field +to Wharton. Wharton at this instant repassed; and still running the +changes, with half-intoxicated wit, upon the same ideas, reiterated, +“_Public vice!_--We all knew where _that_ would end in these days--in +public honours; but none of you would believe me, when I told you where +_public virtue_ would end--in private treachery!” + +“That’s neat!--that’s strong!--faith, that’s home!” whispered some one. + +“Mr. Wharton!” cried Vivian, going up to him, “I could not help hearing +what you said just now--did you intend it for me?” + +“You heard it, it seems, sir, and that is sufficient,” replied Wharton, +in an insolent tone: “as to what I meant, I presume it is pretty +evident; but, if you think it requires any explanation, I am as ready to +give as you can be to ask it.” + +“The sooner the better, then, sir,” said Vivian. The two gentlemen +walked away together, whilst the spectators exclaimed, “Very spirited +indeed!--very right!--very proper!--Vivian could do no less than call +him out. But, after all, what was the quarrel about? Which of them was +to blame?” + +Long before these points were settled, the challenge was given and +accepted. Colonel S----, who followed Vivian and Wharton, endeavoured +to set things to rights, by explaining that Vivian had been deceived +by Lord Glistonbury, and kept totally in the dark respecting the +negotiation for the marquisate. But Wharton, aware that by _taking up +the matter immediately in such a spirited way_ he should do himself +infinite honour with his party, and with that majority of the world who +think that the greatest merit of a man is to stand to be shot at, +was not at all willing to listen to these representations. Colonel +S----declared that, were he in Mr. Wharton’s place, he should, without +hesitation, make an apology to Mr. Vivian, and publicly acknowledge that +what he said in the coffee-room was spoken under a false impression, +which a plain statement of facts had totally removed: but Wharton +disdained all terms of accommodation; his policy, pride, and desire of +revenge, all conspired to produce that air of insolent determination +to fight, which, with some people, would obtain the glorious name of +COURAGE. By this sort of courage can men of the most base and profligate +characters often put themselves in a moment upon an equal footing with +men of principle and virtue! + +It was settled that Mr. Wharton and Vivian should meet, at eight o’clock +the next morning, in a field near town. Colonel S---- consented to be +Vivian’s second. Russell was not yet returned--not expected till ten the +next day. + +Left to his cool reflection, Vivian thought with horror of the misery +into which the event of this duel might involve all with whom he was +connected, and all who were attached to him. The affair was of course to +be kept a secret from all at Glistonbury House, where Vivian was engaged +to dine with a large ministerial party. He went home to dress, hoping +to have a quarter of an hour to himself; but, on entering his own +dressing-room, he, to his surprise and mortification, found his wife +seated there, waiting for him with a face of anxious expectation; a case +of newly-set diamonds on a table beside her. “I thought you were at your +father’s, my dear: are you not to be at Glistonbury House to-day?” said +Vivian. + +“No,” replied Lady Sarah. “Surely, Mr. Vivian, you know that my father +gives a political dinner, and I suppose you are to be there?” + +“Oh, yes!” cried Vivian; “I did not know what I was saying--I am to +be there, and must dress (looking at his watch), for I have no time to +spare.” + +“Be that as it may, I must intrude upon your time for a few minutes,” + said Lady Sarah. + +Vivian stood impatiently attentive, whilst Lady Sarah seemed to find it +difficult to begin some speech which she had prepared. + +“Women, I know, have nothing to do with politics,” she began in +a constrained voice; but, suddenly quitting her air and tone of +constraint, she started up and exclaimed, “Oh, my dear, _dear_ husband! +what have you done?--No, no, I cannot, will not believe it, till I hear +it from your OWN lips!” + +“What is the matter, my dear Lady Sarah?--You astonish and almost alarm +me!” said Vivian, endeavouring to preserve composure of countenance. + +“I will not--Heaven forbid that I should alarm you as I have been +alarmed!” said Lady Sarah, commanding her voice again to a tone of +tranquillity. “I ought, and, if I were not weak, should be convinced +that there is no reason for alarm. There has been some mistake, no +doubt; and I have been to blame for listening to idle reports. Let +me, however, state the facts. Half an hour ago, I was at Gray’s the +jeweller’s, to call for my poor mother’s diamonds, which, you know, he +has reset----” + +“Yes--Well!” + +“And whilst I was in the shop, a party of gentlemen came in, all of them +unknown to me, and, of course, I was equally unknown to them; for they +began to speak of you in a manner in which none knowing me could venture +in my presence. They said--I cannot bear to repeat or to think of +what they said--you cannot have bartered your public reputation for +a marquisate for my father!--You cannot have done that which is +dishonourable--you cannot have deserted your party for a paltry place +for yourself!--You turn pale.--I wish, if it pleased God, that I was +this moment in my grave!” + +“Heaven forbid, my dear Lady Sarah!” cried Vivian, forcing a smile, and +endeavouring to speak in a tone of raillery. “Why should you wish to +be in your grave, because your husband has just got a good warm place? +Live! live!” said he, raising her powerless hand; “for consider--as I +did--and this consideration was of no small weight with me--consider, my +dear Sarah, how much better you will live for it!” + +“And you did consider me? And that _did_ weigh with you?” + +“--Oh, this is what I dreaded most!” cried Lady Sarah.--“When will you +know my real character? When will you have confidence in your wife, sir? +When will you know the power, the unconquered, unconquerable power of +her affection for you?” + +Vivian, much struck by the strength of her expression as she uttered +these words, was a moment silent in astonishment; and then could only, +in an incoherent manner, protest, that he did know--that he had always +done justice to her character--that he believed in her affection--and +had the greatest confidence in its power. + +“No, sir, no!--Do not say that which I cannot credit!--You have not +confidence in the power of my affection, or you would never have done +this thing to save me pain. What pain can be so great to me as the +thought of my husband’s reputation suffering abasement?--Do you think +that, in comparison with this, I, your wife, could put the loss of a +service of plate, or house in town, or equipage, or servants, or such +baubles as these?” added she, her eyes glancing upon the diamonds; then, +snatching them up, “Take them, take them!” cried she; “they were my +mother’s; and if her spirit could look down from heaven upon us she +would approve my offer--she would command your acceptance. Then here on +my knees I conjure you, my beloved husband, take them--sell them--sell +plate, furniture, house, equipage, sell every thing rather than your +honour!” + +“It is sold,” said Vivian, in a voice of despair. + +“Redeem it, redeem it at any price!” cried Lady Sarah. “No! I will kneel +here at your feet--you shall not raise me--till I have obtained this +promise, this justice to me, to yourself!” + +“It is too late,” said Vivian, writhing in agony. + +“Never too late,” cried Lady Sarah. “Give up the place.--Never too +late!--Give up the place--write this moment, and all will be well; for +your honour will be saved, and the rest is as nothing in my eyes!” + +“High-minded woman!” cried Vivian: “why did not I hear you sooner? Why +did not I avail myself of your strength of soul?” + +“Use it now--hear me now--let us waste no time in words--here is a pen +and ink--write, my dearest husband! and be yourself again.” + +“You waste the energy of your mind on me,” cried Vivian, breaking from +Lady Sarah, and striking his forehead violently; “I am not worthy of +such attachment! It is done--it cannot be undone: I am a weak, ruined, +dishonoured wretch!--I tell you, it CANNOT be undone!” + +Lady Sarah rose, and stood in despair. Then, looking up to heaven, she +was silent for some moments. After which, approaching her husband, she +said, in an altered, calm voice, “Since it cannot be undone, I will urge +you no more. But, whether in glory or in shame, you are secure that your +wife will abide by you.” + +Vivian embraced her with a tenderness which he had never before felt. +“Excellent woman! in justice to myself, I must tell you,” cried he, +“that I was deceived into this situation. I CAN say no more!” + +At this moment a servant knocked at the door, bringing a message from +Lord Glistonbury, to say that all the company were assembled, and that +dinner waited for Mr. Vivian. + +“You are not in a fit state to go. Shall I send an apology to my +father?” + +“Oh, no! I must go,” cried Vivian, starting up, “I must go, or it will +be thought--or it will be suspected--I can’t explain it to you, my dear; +but I must go--I must _appear_ to-day, and in spirits too, if possible.” + +He hurried away. A servant delivered to Lady Sarah a number of notes +and cards. The notes were notes of congratulation, from many of her +acquaintance, upon the report in circulation, that her father was +immediately to be a marquis. The cards were from people who were to be +at her assembly that night. This was one of _her nights_, which were +usually crowded. Lady Sarah’s first wish was to write apologies, and to +say that she was not well enough to see company; but, recollecting +that her husband had said, “he must _appear_, and in spirits, too, if +possible,” she thought that it might be more for their interest, and +according to his wishes, that she should see company, and that no +appearance of dejection should be discerned in his wife. She prepared +herself accordingly, and, with a heavy heart, walked through her +splendid apartments, to see whether the decorations had been properly +executed. + +In the mean time Vivian dined at Lord Glistonbury’s, with a large +ministerial party. As soon as he could, after dinner, Vivian got away; +and Lord Glistonbury attributed his retiring early to the awkwardness +he might feel in the company of men whom he had, till now, so violently +opposed. This his lordship thought a foolish _young man’s feeling,_ +which would soon wear away. Vivian returned home, anxious to escape from +crowds, and to have some hours of leisure to pass alone; but, the moment +he entered his own house, he saw the great staircase lined with roses +and orange-trees; he found the rooms lighted up and prepared for +company; and Lady Sarah dressed, for the first time, in all her mother’s +diamonds. + +“Good Heavens!--Do you see company to-night?” cried he. + +“Yes; for I thought, my dear, that you would wish it.” + +“I wish it!--Oh! if you knew how I wish to be alone!” + +“Then, as no one is yet come, I can still shut my doors, and order them +to say that I am not well enough to see company--I am sure it is true. +Shall I?” + +“No, my dear, it is too late,” said Vivian: “I am afraid it is +impossible for you to do that.” + +“Not impossible, if you wish it.” + +“Well, do as you please.” + +“Which is most for your interest? I have no other pleasure.” + +“You are too good to me, and I fear I shall never have it in my power to +show you any gratitude----” + +“But decide which is best to be done, my dear,” said Lady Sarah. + +“Why, my dear, I believe you judged rightly--see your friends, and make +the best of it: but I can appear only for a moment; I have business of +consequence--letters--papers--that must be finished to-night; and I must +go now to my study.” + +“You shall not be interrupted,” said Lady Sarah: “I will exert myself as +much as possible.” + +A tremendous knock at the door.--Vivian passed through the saloon, +and gained his study, where, after remaining for some time in painful +reflection, he was roused by hearing the clock strike twelve. He +recollected that he had several arrangements to make in his affairs +this night; and that it was incumbent on him to sign and execute a will, +which had been for some time in his possession, with certain blanks not +yet filled up. His wife was, by his marriage settlements, amply provided +for; but he inserted in his will some clauses which he thought would add +to her peculiar comfort, and took care to word them so that his respect +and esteem should be known hereafter to all the world; and that, if +he died, he should leave her the consolation of knowing that his last +feelings for her were those of gratitude and affection. To his mother +he left all that was in his power to contribute to the ease of her +declining years--often obliged to pause whilst he wrote, overcome by +the thoughts of what her grief would be if he died. He left his friend +Russell _in remainder_, to a considerable part of his estate; and he was +just adding the bequest of certain books, which they had read together +in his better days, when the door of the study suddenly opened, and his +mother entered. + +“What is all this?” cried she: “immersed in papers at such a time as +this!” + +“I so hate crowded assemblies,” said Vivian, huddling his papers +together, and advancing to meet his mother. + +“So do I,” said Lady Mary; “but I have been waiting with exemplary +patience where I was stationed by Lady Sarah, at the card-table, +every instant expecting your arrival, that I might have a few minutes’ +conversation with you, and inquire how matters went on at the house, and +congratulate----” + +Before she had finished the word _congratulate_, she stopped short; for +she had, by this time, a full view of her son’s countenance: and she +knew that countenance so well, that it was impossible to disguise it so +as to deceive her maternal penetration. + +“My dear son!” said she, “something is going wrong: I conjure you, tell +me what is the matter!”--Her eye glanced upon the parchments, and she +saw that it was a will. Vivian forced a laugh; and asked her if she +had the weakness some people felt, of disliking to see a will, or of +fancying that a man was going to die if he made his will. Then, to quiet +her apprehensions, and to put a stop to her farther inquiries, he threw +aside his papers, and returned with her to the company, where he exerted +himself to appear as gay as the occasion required. Lord Glistonbury, who +had called in for a few moments, was now playing the great man, as well +as his total want of dignity of mind and manners would permit; he was +answering, in whispers, questions about his marquisate, and sustaining +with all his might his new part of the friend of government. Every thing +conspired to strike Vivian with melancholy--yet he constrained himself +so far, that his _charming spirits_ delighted all who were uninterested +in observing any but the external signs of gaiety; but his mother saw +that his vivacity was forced. She made inquiries from all the gentlemen +of her acquaintance about what had passed the preceding day both at the +House of Commons, and to-day at the dinner at Lord Glistonbury’s: but +those who had been at Lord Glistonbury’s dinner assured her that every +thing had been as amicable as could be; and his ministerial friends said +that every thing had gone on as smoothly as possible at the house: +of what had passed between Mr. Wharton and Vivian in the coffee-room +_nobody could_ give her an account. Baffled, but not satisfied, the +anxious mother sent to the hotel where Mr. Russell lodged, to inquire +whether he was returned to town, and to beg to see him immediately. From +him, she thought, she should learn the truth; or, by his influence over +her son, she hoped that, if there was any danger of a quarrel, it +might be in time prevented. Her servant, however, brought word that +Mr. Russell was not expected from the country till ten o’clock the +next morning; but that her note would be given to him directly on +his arrival. She applied herself next to the study of her daughter’s +countenance, whilst she asked two or three questions, calculated to +discover whether Lady Sarah was under any anxiety about Vivian. But +though Lady Sarah’s countenance exhibited not the slightest variation +under this trial, yet this tranquillity was by no means decisively +satisfactory; because, whatever might be her internal agitation, she +knew that Lady Sarah _could_ maintain the same countenance. Lady Sarah, +who plainly discerned her mother’s anxious curiosity, thought it her +duty to keep her husband’s secrets; and, imagining that she knew the +whole truth, was not farther alarmed by these hints, nor did they lead +her to suspect the real state of the case. + +Lady Mary was at length tolerably well satisfied, by a conversation with +her son; during the course of which she settled in her imagination that +he had only been inserting in his will a bequest to his friend Russell; +and that the depression of his spirits arose from the struggle he had +had in determining to vote against his patriotic ideas. She rose to +depart; and Vivian, as he conducted her down stairs, and put her into +her carriage, could scarcely repress his feelings; and he took so tender +a leave of her, that all her apprehensions revived; but there was a +cry of “_Lady--somebody’s_ carriage!” and Lady Mary’s coachman drove +on immediately, without giving her time for one word more. After his +mother’s departure, Vivian, instead of returning to the company, went to +his study, and took this opportunity of finishing his will; but as the +servants were all in attendance at supper he could not get any body to +witness it; and for this he was obliged to wait till a very late hour, +when all the company at last departed. The rattle of carriages at length +died away; and when all was silence, just as he was about to ring for +his witnesses, he heard Lady Sarah’s step coming along the corridor +towards the study: he went out immediately to meet her, drew her arm +within his affectionately, and took two or three turns with her, up and +down the empty saloon, whilst a servant was extinguishing the lights. +Vivian’s mind was so full that he could not speak; and he was scarcely +conscious that he had not spoken, till Lady Sarah broke the silence by +asking if he had finished his business. + +“No, my dear, I have more to do yet; but you will oblige me if you will +go to rest--you must be fatigued--mind and body.” + +“_You_ seem fatigued almost to death,” said Lady Sarah: “and cannot you +finish the remainder of your business as well to-morrow?” + +“No,” replied Vivian; “it must be finished before to-morrow. I am bound +in duty to finish it before to-morrow.” + +“If it is a point of duty, I have no more to say,” replied Lady Sarah; +“but,” continued she, in a tone of proud humility, “but if I might so +far intrude upon your confidence, as to inquire----” + +“Make no inquiries, my dear; for I cannot answer any, even of yours,” + said Vivian. “And let me beg of you to go to rest; my mind will then +be more at ease. I cannot command my thoughts whilst I am anxious about +you; and I am anxious--more anxious than ever I was in my life--about +you at this moment. You will oblige me if you will go to rest.” + +“I CANNOT rest, but I will leave you, since you desire it--I have no +idle curiosity--Good night!” + +“Good night! and thank you once more, my excellent wife, for all your +kindness.” + +“There cannot be a better woman!” said Vivian to himself as she retired. +“Why have I not loved her as she deserved to be loved? If I live, I will +do my utmost to make her happy--if I live, I will yet repair all. And, +if I die, she will have but little reason to deplore the loss of such a +husband.” + +Vivian now executed his will--wrote several letters of business--burnt +letters and arranged papers--regretted that Russell, who was to be his +executor, was not near him--made many bitter reflections on the past, +many good resolutions for the future, in case he should survive; then, +overpowered with fatigue of mind, slept for some time, and was awakened +by the clock striking seven. By eight o’clock he was at the place +appointed--Mr. Wharton appeared a few minutes afterwards. Their seconds +having measured out the distance, they took their ground. As Vivian +had given the challenge, Wharton had the first fire. He fired--Vivian +staggered some paces back, fired his pistol into the air, and fell. +The seconds ran to his assistance, and raised him from the ground. The +bullet had entered his chest. He stretched out his hand to Mr. Wharton +in token of forgiveness, and, as soon as he could speak, desired the +seconds to remember that it was he who gave the challenge, and that he +thought he deserved to bear the blame of the quarrel. Wharton, callous +as he was, seemed struck with pity and remorse: he asked what friends +Vivian would wish to have apprised of his situation. A surgeon was in +attendance. Vivian, faint from loss of blood, just pronounced Russell’s +name, and the name of the hotel where he was to be found, adding +“_nobody else_.” Wharton rode off, undertaking to find Mr. Russell; +and Vivian was carried into a little public-house, by the orders of the +surgeon, who thought that he could not bear the motion of a carriage. +Wharton met Mr. Russell, who was coming from town. He had come to London +earlier than he had intended, and, in consequence of Lady Mary Vivian’s +note, which he had received immediately on his arrival, had made such +inquiries as convinced him that her apprehensions were just; and having +discovered the place where the parties were to meet, he had hastened +thither, in hopes of preventing the fatal event. The moment he saw Mr. +Wharton he knew that he was too late. Without asking any other question +than, “Is Vivian alive?” he pressed forwards. The surgeon, who was the +next person he saw, gave him no hopes of his friend’s recovery, but said +he might last till night, or linger perhaps for a day or two. Vivian +had by this time recovered his senses and his speech; but when Russell +entered the room where he lay, he was so much struck by the grief in his +countenance that he could not recollect any one of the many things he +had to say. Russell, the firm Russell, was now quite overcome. + +“Yes, my dear friend,” said Vivian; “this is the end of all your +care--of all your hopes of me!--Oh, my poor, poor mother! What will +become of her! Where can we find consolation for her!--You and Selina +Sidney! You know how fond my mother was of her--how fond she was of my +mother--till I, the cause of evil to all my friends, separated them. +You must reunite them. You must repair all. This hope--this hope of your +happiness, my beloved friend, will soothe my last moments!----How much +happier Selina will be with you than----” + +Russell sobbed aloud.--“Yes, yield to your feelings, for I know how +strong they are,” said Vivian: “you, that have always felt more for me +than I have ever felt for myself! But it is well for you that my life +ends; for I have never been any thing but a torment and a disgrace to +you!--And yet I had good dispositions!--but there is no time for regret +about myself; I have others to think of, better worth thinking of.” + +Vivian called for pen, ink, and paper, had himself raised in his bed, +and supported, whilst he wrote to Selina, and to his mother. + +“Do not stop me,” cried he to Russell; “it is the only act of +friendship--the only thing I can do in this world now with pleasure, and +let me do it.” + +His notes contained nearly what he had just said to Russell--he put them +open into his friend’s hand; then, good-natured to the last, Vivian took +up his pen again, with no small difficulty, and wrote a few affectionate +words to his wife. “She _well_ deserves this from me,” said he. “Be +a friend to her, Russell--when I am gone, she will, I know, want +consolation,” After Russell had assured him that he would do all he +desired, Vivian said, “I believe there is no one else in the world who +will regret my death, except, perhaps, Lady Julia Lidhurst. How +generous she was to forgive me!--Tell her, I remembered it when I was +dying!--Weakness, weakness of mind!--the cause of all my errors!----Oh, +Russell! how well you knew me from the first!--But all is over +now!--My experience can be of no use to me--Every thing swims before my +eyes.----One comfort is, I have not the blood of a fellow-creature +to answer for. My greatest error was making that profligate man my +friend--he was my ruin. I little thought, a few years ago, that I should +die by his hand--but I forgive him, as I hope to be forgiven myself! Is +the clergyman who was sent for come?--My dear Russell, this would be too +severe a task for you.--He is come? Then let me see him.” + +Vivian was left for some time to his private devotions. The clergyman +afterwards summoned Russell to return:--he found his friend calmed and +resigned. Vivian stretched out his hand--thanked him once more--and +expired! + +“Oh! worthy of a better fate!” thought Russell.--“With such a +heart!--With such talents!--And so young!--With only one fault of +character!--Oh, my friend! is it all over?--and all in vain?” + +Vivian’s mother and widow arrived just at this moment; and Russell and +Lord Glistonbury, who followed breathless, could not stop them from +entering the apartment. The mother’s grief bordered on distraction; but +it found relief in tears and cries. Lady Sarah shed no tear, and uttered +no exclamation; but advancing, insensible of all opposition, to the bed +on which her dead husband lay, tried whether there was any pulse, +any breath left; then knelt down beside him in silent devotion. Lord +Glistonbury, striking his forehead continually, and striding up and down +the room, repeated, “I killed him!--I killed him!--I was the cause +of his death!--My victim!--My victim!--But take her away!--Take _her_ +away--I cannot.--For mercy’s sake, force her away, Mr. Russell!” + +“There is no need of force,” said Lady Sarah, rising, as her father +approached; “I am going to leave my husband for ever.”----Then, turning +to Mr. Russell, she inquired if his friend had left any message or +letter for her--desired to see the letter--retired with it--still +without shedding a tear--a few hours afterwards was taken ill, and, +before night, was delivered of a dead son. + +Lady Sarah survived, but has never since appeared in what is called the +WORLD. + + + + +FOOTNOTES: + + +[1] It is to be regretted that a word, used in the days of Charles II. +and still intelligible in our times, should have become obsolete; _viz_. +the feminine for intriguer--an _intriguess_. See the Life of Lord Keeper +North, whose biographer, in speaking of Lord Keeper Bridgeman, says, +“And what was worst of all, his family was no way fit for that place (of +Chancellor), his lady being a most violent INTRIGUESS in business.” + +Had Mr. Walsingham lived in Ireland, even there he might have found +in the dialect of the lower Irish both a substantive and a verb, which +would have expressed his idea. The editor once described an individual +of the Beaumont species to an Irish labourer, and asked what he would +call such a person--“I’d call her a policizer--I would say she was fond +of policizing.” + +[2] Life of Admiral Roddam, Monthly Magazine. + +[3] This reminds us of an expression of Charles the Second--“It is very +strange, that every one of my friends keeps a _tame knave_”--_Note by +the Editor_. + +[4] Young wild ducks. + +[5] _Note by the Editor_.--It is much to be regretted that the original +papers belonging to this correspondence, including all the notes and +letters, which Mrs. Beaumont either wrote herself, or those, still +more important, which she caused to be written by her confidential +amanuensis, which would doubtless form all together a body _of domestic +diplomacy equally curious and useful_, are irrecoverably lost to the +world. After the most diligent search, the Editor is compelled to +rest under the persuasion that they must all have been collected and +committed to the flames by the too great prudence of the principal party +concerned. Had they been trusted to the discretion of a _friend_, the +public would, doubtless, long since have been favoured with the whole. + +[6] See Bacon on Cunning. + +[7] See Annual Register, 1761, for an entertaining account of the trial +of Mr. M’Naughton. + +[8] Supposed to be from the pen of Mr. Twigg, who was presented with a +living in the gift of Mrs. Beaumont. + +[9] Literally copied from a family receipt-book in the author’s +possession. + +[10] From some lines of Delille’s, on Rousseau, concluding with the +following:-- + +“Malheureux! le trépas est donc ton seule asile! Ah! dans la tombe, au +moins, repose enfin tranquille! Ce beau lac, ces flots purs, ces fleurs, +ces gazons frais, Ces pâles peupliers, tout t’invite à la paix. Respire, +donc, enfin, de tes tristes chimères. Vois accourir vers toi les époux, +et les mères. Contemple les amans, qui viennent chaque jour, Verser sur +ton tombeau les larmes de l’amour! Vois ce groupe d’enfans, se jouant +sous l’ombrage, Qui de leur liberté viennent te rendre hommage; Et dis, +en contemplant ce spectacle enchanteur, _Je ne fus point heureux, mais +j’ai fait leur bonheur_.” + +Ill-fated mortal! doom’d, alas! to find The grave sole refuge from thy +restless mind. This turf, these flow’rs, this lake, this silent wave, +These poplars pale, that murmur o’er your grave, Invite repose.--Enjoy +the tranquil shore, Where vain chimeras shall torment no more. See to +thy tomb the wife and mother fly, And pour their sorrows where thy ashes +lie! Here the fond youth, and here the blushing maid, Whisper their +loves to thy congenial shade; And grateful children smiling through +their tears, Bless the loved champion of their youthful years: Then +cry, triumphant, from thy honour’d grave-- _Joyless I lived, but joy to +others gave_. C.S.E. + + +THE END. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES AND NOVELS, VOLUME 5 (OF 10) *** + +***** This file should be named 9414-0.txt or 9414-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/9/4/1/9414/ + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, +and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following +the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use +of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for +copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very +easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation +of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project +Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may +do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected +by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark +license, especially commercial redistribution. + +START: FULL LICENSE + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full +Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at +www.gutenberg.org/license. + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or +destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your +possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a +Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound +by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the +person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph +1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this +agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the +Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection +of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual +works in the collection are in the public domain in the United +States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the +United States and you are located in the United States, we do not +claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, +displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as +all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope +that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting +free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm +works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the +Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily +comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the +same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when +you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are +in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, +check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this +agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, +distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any +other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no +representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any +country other than the United States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other +immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear +prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work +on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, +performed, viewed, copied or distributed: + + This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and + most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no + restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it + under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this + eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the + United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where + you are located before using this eBook. + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is +derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not +contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the +copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in +the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are +redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply +either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or +obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm +trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any +additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms +will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works +posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the +beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including +any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access +to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format +other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official +version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm website +(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense +to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means +of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain +Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the +full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +provided that: + +* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed + to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has + agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid + within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are + legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty + payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in + Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg + Literary Archive Foundation." + +* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all + copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue + all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm + works. + +* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of + any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of + receipt of the work. + +* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than +are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing +from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of +the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set +forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project +Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may +contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate +or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or +other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or +cannot be read by your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium +with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you +with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in +lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person +or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second +opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If +the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing +without further opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO +OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of +damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement +violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the +agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or +limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or +unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the +remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in +accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the +production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, +including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of +the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this +or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or +additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any +Defect you cause. + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of +computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It +exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations +from people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future +generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see +Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at +www.gutenberg.org + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by +U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, +Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up +to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's website +and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without +widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND +DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular +state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To +donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project +Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be +freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and +distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of +volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in +the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not +necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper +edition. + +Most people start at our website which has the main PG search +facility: www.gutenberg.org + +This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + |