'That low cunning which from fools supplies,And aptly too, the means of being wise.'
"And I have thought no good of him ever since I saw him come out of Lady Bell Singleton's house with your husband."
"What!" cried I, catching hold of a chair, for my strength seemed suddenly to fail me, "does my husband visit Lady Bell?"
"Yes, that once I am sure he did: but then I do not doubt but that Lord Charles took him there; for I am told his great pleasure is to alienate his married friends from their wives."
Alas! from what a pinnacle of happiness and confidence did this foolish woman cast me down in one moment! Reply I could not; and she went on to give me one piece of advice, and that was, never, if I could help it, to admit Lord Charles within my doors, and to discourage his intimacy with my husband as much as I could.
By this time I had a little recovered this overwhelming blow; and I resolved in self-defence, and in defence of my husband's character, to tell her I must believe she was mistaken in thinking she saw Pendarves come out of Lady Bell's house; but whether that were true or false, I must request her to keep such communications to herself in future, as a wife was the last person whom any one should presume to inform of the errors of her husband. But company came in; and soon after my uncle drove up to the house in his travelling carriage, and in a few minutes more they were both on the road to Cornwall. If Seymour, when he came in, had found me alone with Mrs. Pendarves, he would have attributed the strange abstraction of my manner to some information which she had given me; but he now imputed it to the head-ach of which I complained; and when my visitors went he urged me to go and lie down.
This was unfortunate, as I should have disliked excessively to tell him what his aunt had seen, and to let him observe how uneasy the communication had made me; for I was aware that a wife whose jealousy is so very apt to take alarm, is as troublesome to a husband as one whose nerves are so weak that she goes into a fit at the slightest noise, and starts at the mere shutting of a door. Still, my husband's ignorance of the cause of my indisposition was a great trial to me; for it forced me to have, for the first time, a secret from him. And he too, it seemed, was keeping a secret from me; for, spite of my entreaties that he would always tell me himself what it might grieve me to hear from others, he had called on Lady Bell Singleton, without telling me that he had done so!
Alas! I did indeed lie down, and I did indeed darken my room; but it was to hide my agitation and my tears: nor till Pendarves went out to dinner, which, with some difficulty I prevailed on him to do, did I suffer the light to penetrate into my apartments, or my swollen eye-lids to be seen of any one. But then I rose; then, too, I rallied my spirits; for, in the first place I was cheered by my husband's affectionate unwillingness to leave me, and in the next I had nearly convinced myself that Mrs. Pendarves had not seen him when she fancied she did.
By this resolute endeavour to look only on the bright side, I was enabled when my husband returned, which he did very early, to receive him with unforced smiles and cheerfulness.
The next day we set off immediately after breakfast on our journey home; and I met my mother with a countenance so happy, that the look of anxious inquiry with which she beheld me was immediately exchanged for one of tearful joy.
"Thank God! my dearest child," she fervently exclaimed, "that I see you again, and see you thus!"
Why had she looked so anxious, and so inquiringly? and why was she thus so evidently surprised, as well as rejoiced?
No doubt, thought I, she is in correspondence with our gossiping aunt, and she has told my mother all she told me.—No doubt, also, she has all along been that secret source whence was derived my mother's fear of uniting me to Pendarves.—But then, was not her information derived from her husband, and was it not always only too authentic?
As these thoughts passed my mind, it was well for me that my mother was talking to Seymour, and did not observe me.
Two months had greatly embellished the appearance of our abode; and it looked so green and gay, and was so fragrant from the summer flowers, that Pendarves, always alive to present objects and present impressions, exclaimed as we followed my mother through the grounds, "Dearest Helen! why should we ever leave this paradise of sweets? Here let us live and die!"
"Agreed," said I; and my mother looked at us with delighted eyes, but eyes that beamed through tears.
Calm and tranquil were the months that followed—though my husband's brow was always clouded when letters arrived bearing the London post-mark; and when I asked who his correspondent was, he answered, "Lord Charles;" but never communicated to me the contents of these letters.
In walking, riding, receiving and paying visits, passed the time till September, when my husband had an invitation to spend a few days in Norfolk, on a shooting excursion; and when he returned he found me confined to my sofa with indisposition. Never had woman a tenderer nurse than he proved himself during the three succeeding months: at the end of that time I was quite recovered; and as he had business in London, he declared his intention of going thither for some days, as he could not bear, he said, to leave me some few months later, and when a time was approaching so dear to his wishes and expectations.
To London therefore he went, and left me to combat and indulge alternately the fears of a jealous and the confidence of a tender wife.
His letters became a study to me. I tried to find out by his expressions in what state of mind he wrote. Sometimes I fancied them hurried, and expressive of a mind not at ease with itself; then in another passage I read the unembarrassed eloquence of faithful and confiding love.
During his absence my mother found me a bad companion: I was for ever falling into reverie, and a less penetrating eye than hers would have discovered that my symptoms were those of mental uneasiness.
At length he returned, and he gazed on my faded cheek and evidently anxious countenance with such tender concern, that my care-worn brow instantly resumed its wonted cheerfulness; and when my mother came to welcome him, she was surprised at the alteration in my looks.
"Foolish child!" said she in a faltering voice, when Pendarves left the room, "Foolish child! to depend thus for happiness, nay health and life itself perhaps, on one of frail and human mould! I see how it is with you: you were ill and anxious yesterday, but he is come, and you need no other physician."
"Did you see much of Lord Charles?" said I the next day, looking earnestly for my needle while I spoke, as I was conscious that my countenance was not tranquil.
"No—yes—on the whole I did. But why do you ask? I believe he is no favourite of yours."
"Certainly not."
"But I hope, Helen, you are not soverya wife as to wish me to give up an old friend merely because he does not please you?"
"No: I am not so unreasonable, even though I could give substantial reasons for my dislike."
"And pray what are these reasons? Oh! that reminds me of a joke Lord Charles has against you, Helen. He tells me he is sure you thought that he fell in love with you when, on being first presented to you, he expressed his admiration in his usual frank way, which means nothing; for he says your prudery took alarm, and you drew up your beautiful neck to its utmost height, and have My lorded and Your lordship'd him ever since into the most awful distance."
"True; but for a manner that means nothing, I never saw a manner more offensive to a modest wife. However, I am very glad he has been so clear-sighted as to my motives; for I wish him to know that I do not love such marked homage from him, or any other friend of yours, even in a joke."
"You are piqued, Helen."
"I am."
"Perhaps you wish me to call Lord Charles out? But indeed were I to call out all the men who look at you with admiring eyes, I should soon sleep with my fathers, or send numbers to sleep with theirs. No, no, excuse me, Helen. I will not quarrel with Lord Charles; for even if the fire ever was kindled, your snow has now completely extinguished it; and I do assure you he is a very good fellow, though odd, and not always pleasant."
"Is he paying his court to that Lady Bell?" said I, speaking her name with difficulty, and preceding it with an impertinent,that.
"I really—I—cannot say positively. But that Lady Bell, as you emphatically call her, has quarrelled with that fine young man whom you saw at Ranelagh, and perhaps it is on his account."
I said no more; for I saw his colour heighten, and that his manner was hurried: and I tried to believe that the quarrel was wholly on Lord Charles Belmour's account.
I now however took myself seriously to task; for was I not violating a wife's duty in trying to find errors in the conduct of my husband? and was I not by so doing endangering my own peace of mind, my health, and consequently, in my situation, my life? Was I not also depressing those spirits, and weakening those powers of exertion which ought to make home agreeable and alluring to the dear object of my weak solicitude?
The result of this severe self-examination was, that I resolutely determined to turn away from every anxious and jealous suggestion, to believe as long as I could, that my husband was as deserving of my love and confidence when absent as he was when present, and to make a vigorous effort to stop myself on my way to being a fretful, jealous, and miserable wife.
Nor did I break my resolution, as you well know, my dear friend; for, if I had, you would never have even fancied that I deserved to be exhibited as an example of a wife's duty. But if I had not begun to school myself when I did, all would have been over with me.
I cannot help observing here, that this painful jealousy, which I endured so early in my married life, was owing to my having, in despite of my mother's wise prohibition, united myself to a man of the steadiness of whose principles I had had too much reason to doubt; and I could not help saying to myself sometimes,—"If I had married De Walden, I should have had none of these misgivings."
As the hour of my confinement drew nearer and nearer, Seymour's tender attentions increased; and at length, after severe suffering I became a mother; but scarcely had I been allowed to gaze upon my child, scarcely had I heard its first faint cry,—that sound which thrills so powerfully through the heart,—when its voice was stopt by death, and it closed its eyes for ever.
I am afraid I should have borne this affliction very ill, had I not been obliged to exert myself to quiet the fears of my husband and my mother for my life, as they thought that the shock might be fatal.
I had also to console them; for they were both grieved and disappointed. But their feelings were transitory; mine were still in full force when they believed they were forgotten: for, besides the sorrow I felt for the loss of that being whose helpless cry still vibrated in my ears, I felt that I had lost in it a strong cement to the tie which bound my husband to me. Nor till I found myself again likely to become a mother was I really consoled.
A circumstance happened which induced me to conceal my situation; and this was an invitation which my mother received from the Count De Walden, to accompany his sister, and her husband back to Switzerland when they left England, which they were then visiting, and to stay some months with him and Ferdinand De Walden.
This invitation I well knew she would refuse, if she knew that accepting it would prevent her being with me during my period of suffering; and I allowed her to depart for Switzerland, with the expectation of returning time enough to attend on me.
I own that this was a great trial to my selfishness, as I knew I should miss her greatly: but I thought the excursion would be so pleasing a one to her, that I felt it my duty to make the sacrifice. I suffered my husband to remain in ignorance also, lest he should betray me to her: and I had judged rightly; for when I owned the truth to him, it was with great difficulty I could prevail on him not to write, and say I had deceived her.
Alas! I had but too much reason to regret even this deception, which might be called a virtuous one.
It so happened that I had no married friend, or near relation, who could come to be with me at that time; and as Pendarves wished me to have a female companion, I was induced to accept the eagerly proffered services of a young lady, the eldest daughter of a numerous family, who had conceived a great attachment to my husband and me, and was very solicitous to be with me during my confinement.
This girl had such a warm and open manner, that I fancied her one of the most artless of human beings; and I was so weak as to consider the gross flattery which she lavished on me and on Pendarves, as the honest overflowings of an affectionate heart.
I was, I own, a little startled when she used to kiss my husband's picture as it lay on my table, when she became my guest, and when I saw her come behind him, and cut off a lock of his hair, but as she afterwards begged for a piece of mine, that she might unite them in a locket, I considered this little circumstance as nothing but a flight of girlish romance.
What Pendarves thought of it I know not; but he blushed excessively when he saw that I observed it, and tried to take the hair from her; on which a sort of romping ensued, that I thought vulgar, I own; but it called forth no other feeling.
Perhaps had she been handsome I should not have been so easy; but she was in my eyes plain and could scarcely, I thought, be called a fine girl. Besides, I had heard Seymour say she was dowdy and awkward. But few men are proof against the flatteries and attentions of any woman who is not old and ugly; and I soon found, though without any jealous fear, that Charlotte Jermyn had power to amuse my husband, and that her enthusiastic admiration of every thing which she liked was a source of never-failing entertainment to him.
He now was sufficiently intimate with her, he thought, to venture to hint the necessity of a reform in her dress; and she wore better clothes, became clean, if not neat, and in time she even learnt to look rather tidy; while Pendarves was flattered to see the effect of his admonitions, and used to reward her by challenging her to a long walk.
At length, after I had been confined to my sofa some weeks, I had the happiness of giving birth to a daughter; and my young nurse was most kind and assiduous in her attendance upon me; indeed, so much so that she often shortened my husband's visits, on the kind plea that I was not yet strong enough to bear long ones from one so dear; and I, though reluctantly, dismissed him.
But I soon observed that her own visits became very short; that she used still to kiss me, and call me "dearest creature!" and tell me how beautiful I looked in my night-cap: but now, when I asked for her I was told that she was gone out with Pendarves. And once, as he was standing by my bedside, she was not contented with saying he had been with me long enough, but she linked her arm in his, and dragged him away in a manner at once hoydenish and familiar.
I also saw that though she loaded my sweet baby with caresses when he was present, and tried to take her from him, she scarcely noticed it when he was absent.
Still I felt no distrust, because I had confidence in my husband's honour and affection. But I now saw that the countenances of my nurse and my maid, when I inquired for Miss Jermyn, used to assume an angry expression; and once my maid, muttered, that she supposed she was with her master, for he could not stir but she was after him.
This I did not seem to hear; but it made me thoughtful.
When I had been confined three weeks, I was able to leave my chamber for my dressing-room, which overlooked the garden; and one day, as I ventured to the window for the first time, I saw Charlotte Jermyn walking with my husband, and ever and anon hanging on his arm, almost leaning her head against him occasionally, and looking up in his face (he the while reading a book) with an expression of fondness which alarmed and disgusted me. I then saw her snatch the book from him; and as he tried to regain it, a great romping match ensued, and lasted till they ran out of my sight, and left me pale, motionless, and miserable. For I found that I had been exposing my husband to the allurements of a coquettish romp; and though I acquitted both him and her of aught that was wrong, I still felt that no prudent wife would place the man she loved in such a situation.
Many, many a wife, it is well known, has had to rue the hour when at a period like this she has introduced into her family a young and seemingly attached friend.
What was to be done? I saw that the servants were aware of what was passing, and they would not judge with the candour that I did.
I therefore convinced myself that regard for my husband's reputation, and not jealousy, determined me to get down stairs and out again as fast as possible, in order that I might make some excuse for sending my dangerous attendant away, or at least be a guard over her conduct.
But, to my great surprise and joy, my beloved mother arrived most unexpectedly that morning; for I had insisted on her not returning sooner on my account, as I was so well. However, she did come; and I received her with rapture for more reasons than one; for now I had an excuse for sending Miss Jermyn away directly, as I wanted the best room for my mother.
Accordingly, I told her that in two day's time my mother would take up her abode with us for a few weeks; and that as Mrs. Jermyn had long been desirous of her return, I hoped she would hold herself in readiness to set off for home on the next day but one, as my mother always slept in the room whichsheoccupied.
"O dearest Mrs. Seymour! do not send me away from you," cried the strange girl, clasping and wringing her hands, "or I shall die with grief; for I shall think you do not love me, and I shall never survive it!"
The time for my belief in such rhodomontade was now happily past, and I coolly replied, "that in no other but the best and most convenient room in the house could I allow my mother to sleep; therefore she must go."
"Why so, Mrs. Seymour? I can sleep any where. There is a press bed in the little room; and I care not where I sleep, so I am but permitted to stay."
Here she attempted to throw her arms fondly round me, while she repeated, "Do, there's a sweet woman, do let me stay!"
"Impossible!" I replied, disengaging myself with a look of aversion from her embrace. On which she started up and exclaimed,
"I am sure some one has been telling you stories of me, and you are set against me!"
"There is no one in this house, Miss Jermyn, who would presume to say any thing to me against any guest of mine."
"And pray, does Mr. Pendarves know I am to be sent away at a moment's warning?"
"He does not yet know that you are going away at two day's notice, to make room for my mother, and that I may enjoy her society, after a long absence, uninterrupted."
"Oh! if that be all, I will promise never to interrupt yourtête-à-têtes."
"They will not betête-à-têtes: my husband will be of our party."
"And pray," answered she with great sullenness, "how am I to go home? I am sure Mr. Pendarves will not approve of my going home in the stage without a protector."
"Nor would his wife: and I will settle the mode of conveyance with him."
"Oh! if I must go, I will see if I cannot settle that myself."
At this moment my mother entered the room, and with her my husband; and Miss, to hide her disordered countenance, abruptly disappeared.
"What is the matter with Miss Jermyn?" said Seymour: and I told him, but in a voice that was not as assured as I wished it to be.
"So soon!" cried he, starting. "Is it not too sudden? Will it not look as if she was sent away in a hurry?"
"Sent away in a hurry!" exclaimed my mother, looking earnestly in his face. "Why should any one suspect that?"
"Oh, dear! No one ought, certainly; but after her having staid so long—However, I think she has been here long enough, and the sooner she goes the better."
"Then, as you think thus, and her mother has long wished for her, her departure shall remain fixed for the day after to-morrow, and"—Here I was interrupted by Seymour's being called out of the room: he did not return for some minutes; when he did, he seemed disturbed.
During his absence the nurse brought me my child; and both my mother and myself were too agreeably engaged with her to talk of Charlotte Jermyn. But Seymour's evident abstraction and uneasy countenance drew my mother's attention to him; and after a moment's thought she said, "That seems a very strange presuming girl, Seymour; and I really think with you it is time she were gone."
"Oh, yes, certainly! and she is very willing to go."
"So much the better," replied my mother; while I suppressed, for fear of alarming her suspicions, the "How do you know that?" which was on my lips; for, if her feelings were so changed, he must have changed them; and she it was who had desired him to be called out of the room.
Seymour's horses now came to the door; but before he left us I begged to know how he meant Miss Jermyn should travel.
"She came," said I, "in the coach which passes our gate; but then her mother's maid came with her, and I cannot spare a servant to attend her."
"I can drive her home in my curricle: if we set off at five in the morning, we can perform the journey with ease before dark."
Pendarves said this in a hurried conscious manner, which did not escape the quick eye of my mother; and while I hesitated how I could best word my decided objection to this plan, which would I knew excite disagreeable observations amongst the servants, that ever watchful friend replied, "Hear my plan, which is far better than yours. The mornings are yet dark and cold at five: lend me your horses for my chariot; and as I want to visit a friend of De Walden's, who lives half way to Mr. Jermyn's, with whom I have business, I will take this opportunity of going. My maid shall accompany us, and while I stay at Mr. Dumont's she shall see Miss Jermyn safe to her father's."
"Well, if Miss Jermyn likes this plan."
"She would prefer going with you, no doubt," said I smiling; "but as this plan will be a convenience to my mother, we need not consult her wishes."
"O no! very true, very true," said he in a fluttered tone (but not owning that he had promised to drive her): "and when I return from my ride, I shall expect to find you have arranged every thing with her."
He then ran down stairs and galloped off, as if to avoid speaking to Charlotte; for I saw her from the window run along the path to the road, to catch his eye if she could, and give him a signal to stop and speak to her.
Soon after she joined us; and I thought I saw a triumphant meaning on her countenance, which increased to a look of almost avowed exultation, when, on my saying, "Now let us tell you how we have arranged matters for your journey," she eagerly interrupted me, and exclaimed, "Oh! I have arranged that with Mr. Pendarves, and he is to drive me in his curricle."
I did not answer her, for her look disconcerted me; but my mother did, coldly saying, "Mr. Pendarves did mean to do so, but for my convenience he has changed his plan."
She then went on to inform her what the new plan was; and the mortified indignant girl burst into tears, and left the room.
"That is a very self-willed, pernicious young person, I suspect," observed my mother: "but I flatter myself that her journey with me will do her some good; at least, if it does not, it shall not be my fault."
Then, being too wise and too delicate to say more, she changed the subject: nor was any allusion made to Miss Jermyn till Seymour returned on foot; for he left his horse at the stables; and as he saw us in the drawing-room, which was on the ground floor, he came in at the window, being impatient, he said, to welcome me down stairs.
But he had probably another reason for that mode of entrance. He feared, I suspect, that Charlotte Jermyn would want to speak to him, and he was not disposed to listen to her reproaches for having given up his design of driving her home.
My suspicions were confirmed by my seeing her walking along the path which commanded the approach to the house, and this path Seymour had avoided by going to the stables: but she did not long remain there, for on looking towards the house she saw my husband standing at the window with me, with one arm round my waist, while with his other hand he was stroking the cheek of the child which I held to my bosom, and was rocking to rest.
Happy as I was at this moment, I could not help throwing a hasty glance towards this strange girl, who now rapidly drew near; and as she passed the window curtsied to us, with a countenance in which every unamiable feeling seemed to be uppermost.
She then threw open the hall door with violence, threw it to with the same force, then ran to her own chamber, and closed the door of that with such energy that it could be heard all over the house. Nor did we see her again till dinner, when, though she had taken uncommon pains with her dress, her eyes were swelled with crying, and her whole appearance so indicative of gentle sorrow that Seymour's voice softened even into tenderness when he addressed her, and mine was consequently as strikingly cold and severe. Meanwhile, my mother was a silent but an observant spectator; and both Pendarves and Miss Jermyn seemed oppressed by the penetrating glance of her eye.
In the evening Seymour proposed reading to us aloud; and as I wished to sit up late for reasons you may easily guess, I was glad of so good an excuse as staying to hear an interesting book would be: but I had reason to repent having allowed feeling to prevail over prudence: for when my mother came to me the next day she found I had caught cold, and, together with the fatigue of sitting up too late, was in no condition to go down that day at all. Nor could my mother bear to leave me: consequently, I had the mortification of finding that in trying to avoid a slight evil I had fallen into a greater. But my mother, who had, I doubt not, heard from her maid what the servants had observed, requested Miss Jermyn would be so kind as to sit with us, and teach her two sorts of work which she excelled in; and she could not without great incivility refuse compliance. However, at the hour when she was accustomed to walk with Seymour, she started up, declaring she could stay no longer, because it was her last day there, and she was sure Mr. Pendarves would walk with her. We could not object to this on any proper ground; and she was putting her knitting and netting into her work bag, when we heard a carriage drive to the door, and a servant came up to inform me that Lord Charles Belmour was below, and his master desired him to say he meant to dine with us.
Little did I think that Lord Charles would ever be a welcome guest to me; but at this moment he was so, for I saw that Charlotte Jermyn looked disappointed. My joy however vanished when I recollected that it was by no means desirable Lord Charles should witness this indiscreet girl's evident attachment to Pendarves; and just before she went to her own apartment, my mother said, to my great relief, "You must then dine with us to-day, Miss Jermyn; for you are too young and too old at the same time to be the only female at a table where Lord Charles Belmour is."
"Well, if Imust, I must," was her reply; and she left us.
But while I was rejoicing that circumstances would force her to dine with us, I heard her rapidly ascending the stairs; and throwing open the door hastily, she told us, with a look of delight, that she was going to walk; for Lord Charles had brought his sister Lady Harriet with him, whom he was conveying home from school for the holidays, and Mr. Pendarves had told her she must do the honours to the young lady as I was not able to attend her. "And so," she added, "I must also dine below, for he told me so." And without waiting for our opinion or reply, she again disappeared, and we soon after saw her laughing with Lord Charles on the lawn, as if she had known him for years.
"How he will show her off," said my mother, "to-day! That young man has more ingenuous malignity about him than any one I ever saw. When I was nursing Seymour at Oxford, he came to see him; and in order to make the poor invalid laugh, he used to make masters, deans, and fellow-commoners pass in rapid succession before us, like the distorted figures in a magic lantern."
This view of what was likely to happen was a relief to my mind; for I had not expected that Lord Charles would try to draw her forth for his own amusement; I had feared he would be contented to amuse himself with observing her admiration of Pendarves.
When they returned from their walk, I was vexed to observe that Lady Harriet held her brother's arm, not my husband's; and I also saw that Charlotte leaned on him, and looked up in his face in the same improper manner as she did when they were alone. I was very glad that Lord Charles and his sister walked before them.
Pendarves now came up stairs to beg, as I was not able to dine below, or see Lord Charles otherwise, that I would go to the window and kiss my hand to him in token of welcome; for that he was afraid to stay, because he believed he was a disagreeable guest, and that I kept up stairs merely because he was come. He also begged that I would after dinner admit Lady Harriet for a few minutes.
I promised compliance with both these requests, and went to the window directly.
Lord Charles answered my really cordial salutation with a most lowly bow, and a countenance meant to express every thing that was respectful and courteous, and drew from my mother, to whom he also bowed, the observation of "Graceful coxcomb!" Now do I fancy him saying within himself, 'There, I have made that haughty old woman believe that I respect her and her loftiness to her heart's content.'
Pendarves could not help smiling at this right reading, as it probably was, of his satirical friend's thoughts: but he assured her that admiration the most unbounded was, as well as respect, felt by his friend towards her; and that he considered a woman of her age as in the prime of her charms.
"Nonsense!" cried my mother; and my husband, laughing, returned to Lord Charles.
Charlotte Jermyn did not come to us before she went down to dinner, as she had Lady Harriet with her; but, when they left the dinner-room, I desired to see them in mine: and for the first time I thought her pretty; for her cheeks glowed with a very brilliant and becoming colour, which added to the fire of her eyes; and her dress was neat and lady-like. She had the countenance, too, of one who had been much commended, and felt certain that the commendations were sincere.
"I am glad she is going to-morrow," said I mentally, and I sighed at the same time. Lady Harriet was a good foil to her, except in manners: for there could be no comparison: and by the side of Lady Harriet, Miss Jermyn was pretty.
As soon as they had had coffee the brother and sister drove off, but not before Lord Charles had fixed to return that day fortnight to dinner, on condition of my dining below.
When they were gone my mother went down to make the tea; and after that meal was ended she asked if there was any objection to Seymour's going on in my dressing-room with the book which he began the night before, and in his reading till it was time for me to go to rest.
He complied instantly, and read till I was tired.
My mother then proposed that he should read me to sleep: to this also he agreed, and while I lay with the curtains closed round, my mother, he and Charlotte sat round the fire; and it was eleven before I ceased to hear, and Pendarves retired to his own chamber.
My mother then went away, desiring Charlotte to be ready at six, as she should breakfast with her at that hour. But, as I afterwards found, she reached our house on foot before six, and just as Pendarves came down stairs.
By these apparently undesigned circumstances my mother prevented any scene that might have called forth unpleasant observations in the family; but, she could not prevent a most sorrowful parting on the side of the young lady. She wept, she sobbed, she leaned against Seymour's shoulder when he put his lips to her cheek; and he was nearly obliged to carry her to the carriage; for she declared she would not go till she had taken leave of me: but my mother was as positive that I should not be disturbed, and Pendarves gently forced her to the door.
What passed between my mother and her when they were on the journey and alone,—for the maid always preferred travelling outside,—I do not know: but I suspect that she animadverted on her conduct and want of self-control in a manner more judicious than pleasant.
During these vexatious occurrences I must own that it was a sort of comfort to me, that my aunt Pendarves had such inflamed eyes that she could not write; for otherwise the chances were that she might hear some exaggerated accounts of our visitor's conduct, and might think it necessary to address one of us on the subject, and give us good advice.
Well: this pernicious girl was gone, and my mind at ease again. Still, I feared that she had done me a serious injury: not that I believed she had alienated my husband's heart from me, or from propriety; but she had been the first person to accustom him to find amusement at home independent of me and of the exertion of my talents. He was an indolent man, and she had amused him, and beguiled away his hours, without obliging him to any exertion of mind. Besides, she was not only a new companion, but a new conquest. He was certainly flattered by it, and evidently interested. I was led to draw these conclusions by observing the gapish state into which Pendarves fell the day after her departure.
He seemed to miss an accustomed dram. He gave me indeed, on my requesting it, a lesson in Spanish, which I had long neglected; but he seemed to do it as if it was a trouble, and he was too absent to make the lesson of much use. I however forbore to remark what I could not but painfully feel, and I fancied that my best plan would be to contrive some new objects of interest at home, if I could: but on second thoughts I resolved to propose that he should visit a sick friend of his at Malvern hills, for a few days, as I believed it not to be for my interest he should stay to contrast his present with his late home; but that he should go away to return from an invalid and the cold hills of Malvern, to me and his own comfortable dwelling.
I no sooner named my plan to him than he eagerly caught at it, declaring that he wished to go, but feared that I should think the wish unkind. Accordingly, he only staid to see my mother comfortably settled as my guest, and then set off for Malvern. Nor did he return till three or four days before he expected Lord Charles. By that time I had recovered my bloom and my strength, and our infant had acquired a fortnight's growth,—an interesting event in the life of a young parent; and I assure you it was thought such by Pendarves: and while he complimented me on my restored comeliness, and held his little Helen in his arms, I felt that he had no thought or wish beyond those whom he clasped and looked upon.
I could now join him again in his walks, and in his rides or drives.
My mother threw a great charm over our evenings by her descriptions of the country which she had so lately seen, and of the scientific men with whom she had associated. But Seymour and I both fancied that she was rather reserved and embarrassed when she talked of Count De Walden. Nor could I help being desirous of finding out the reason. One day I told her how sorry I was to think that she shortened her agreeable visit entirely on my account; but, as if thrown off her guard, she eagerly replied, "Oh, no! I was very glad of an excuse for coming away;" and this was followed by such manifest confusion of countenance and manner, that I suspected the reason, and at last I prevailed on her to confess it.
The truth was that Count De Walden, who had admired her in America, when she was a wife, as much as an honourable man can admire the wife of another, could not live in the same house with a woman still lovely, and even more than ever intellectual and agreeable, without feeling for her a very sincere affection; and as their ages were suitable, he made her proposals of marriage of the most advantageous and generous nature. But my mother could not love again: and though at her time of life, and that of her lover, she thought that mutual esteem and the wish to secure a companion for declining years was a sufficient excuse for a second marriage; still, she had an unconquerable aversion to form any connexion, and more especially one which would remove her to such a distance from me. When she told me how strongly she had been solicited, and that the advantages which she should ultimately secure to me by this union were held up to her in so seducing a light, as nearly once to overset her resolution, I was so overcome by the thought of the escape which I had had, that I threw my arms round her, and bursting into an agony of tears exclaimed, "What could have ever made me amends for losing you? The very idea of it kills me."
My mother was excessively affected when I said this; but I soon saw that her tears were not tears of tenderness alone; and looking at me with an expression of sadness on her countenance, she said, "Two years ago, my poor child, you would have better borne the idea of such a separation; and had I been a jealous person I should have been hurt to see how completely a husband can supersede even a mother. But I was pleased to see this, because I saw in it a proof that you were a happy wife: but perhaps you have now an idea, though still a happy wife I trust, of the great value of a parent, and can appreciate more justly that love which nothing can ever alienate, or ever render less."
What could I answer her, and how?
I did not attempt to speak, but I continued to hold her in my arms, and at last I could utter, "No, no, I never, never can bear to part with you."
That day Lord Charles Belmour came, according to his promise, and just as I had convinced myself that it was my duty to overcome my dislike to him, and to endeavour to convert him from an enemy into a friend. Accordingly, I wentdown todinner prepared to receive him with even smiles; but recollecting, when I saw him, his impudent assertion, that his admiration of me meant nothing, and that I was an alarmed prude, my usual coldness came over me, while the deepest blushes dyed my cheeks.
However, I extended my hand to him, which he kissed and pressed; and as he relinquished it he turned up his eyes and muttered "Angelic woman!" in a manner so equivocal, that, consistent as it seemed with "his joke against me," I could not help giving way to evident laughter.
Lord Charles was too quick of apprehension to be affronted at my mirth; on the contrary he felt assured and flattered by it. He had expressed his admiration only in derision and impertinence, and as he saw that I understood him, he felt we were much nearer being friends than we had ever been before; and when our eyes met, a look almost amounting to one of kindness passed between us. Lord Charles now became particularly animated; but some allusion which he made to Lady Bell Singleton, while addressing my husband, made me distrustful again, and I relapsed into my usual manner; and he was My Lord and Your Lordship, during the rest of the dinner. Nor could I be insensible to the look of menace which I subsequently beheld in his countenance. It was not long before the storm burst on my devoted head.
"My dear madam," said he in his most affected manner, "you are a prodigiously kind and obliging help-mate, to provide yourcaro sposowith so charming alocum tenenswhen you are confined to your apartments. I found my friend here with the prettiest young creature for a companion! and then so loving she was!"
"Loving!" said I involuntarily.
"Oh, yes. Allow me to give you an idea of her." Immediately, to the great annoyance of my husband, with all his powers of mimickry, he exhibited the manner and look of Charlotte Jermyn, when looking up in Seymour's face, and leaning against his arm, as I had myself seen her do.
"Is not that like her?"
"Very," replied I forcing a laugh.
"Now shall I mimick your husband, and show you howhelooked in return? Shall I paint the bashful but delighted consciousness which his look expressed—the stolen glance, the—"
"Hush, hush!" cried Pendarves, anger struggling with confusion. "This is fancy painting, and I like nothing but portraits."
During this time I observed a struggle in my mother's breast, and I sat in terror lest she should say something severe to the noble mimick, and make matters worse.
But after this evident struggle, which I alone observed, she leaned her arms on the table, and fixed her powerful eyes steadfastly on Lord Charles, looking at him as if she would have dived into the inmost recesses of his heart.
It was in vain that he endeavoured to escape their searching glance; even his assurance felt abashed, and his malignant spirit awed, till his audacious and ill-intentioned banter was looked into silence, and he asked for another bumper of claret to drink my health. I was before overpowered with gratitude to the judicious yet quiet interference of this admirable parent, and the recollection of our morning's conversation was still present to me. No wonder, therefore, that my spirits were easily affected, and that I felt my eyes fill with tears.
At this moment I luckily heard my child cry; and faltering out, "Hark! that was my child's voice," I hastened to the door; but unfortunately the pocket-hole of my muslin gown caught in the arm of my mother's chair, and Lord Charles insisted on extricating me.
I could now no longer prevent the tears from flowing down my cheeks; which being perceived by him, he said, in a sort of undertone, "Amiable sensibility! There I see a mother's feelings!" On which my mother, provoked beyond endurance, said, in a low voice, but I overheard it, "My lord, my daughter has a wife's feelings also."
I was now disengaged happily, and I ran out of the room.
When I arrived in the nursery I found I was not wanted. I therefore retired to my own apartment, where I gave way to a violent burst of tears. I had scarcely recovered myself, and had bathed my eyes again and again in rose water, when my husband entered the room.
He had witnessed my emotion, and he could not be easy without coming to inquire after me, on pretence that the child's cry had alarmed him.
This affectionate attention was not lost upon me, and I went down stairs with him with restored spirits, and in perfect composure.
My mother, who had walked to her own house, was only just entering the door as we appeared; therefore Lord Charles had been left alone; and whether he thought this an affront to his dignity or not, I cannot tell; but we did not find him in a more amiable mood than when we left him.
After looking at me very earnestly, while sipping his coffee, he came close up to me, and said, resuming his most affected tone, "Pray! what eye-water do you use?"
"Rose water only," was my reply.
"Very bad, 'pon honour; I must send you some of mine, as you are a person of exquisite sensibility, and I fancy it is likely to be tried. Upon my word, it took me a week to compose it; and as I occasionally read novels, and theTête-à-tête Magazine, (which is, you know, exceedingly affecting), I use it continually in order to preserve the lustre of my eyes; and you see that in spite of my acute feelings they retain all their pristine brilliancy."
As he said this, neither Pendarves nor myself, though provoked at his noticing my swelled eyes, could retain our gravity; for the eyes, which he had thus opened to their utmost extent, were of that description known by the name of boiled gooseberries, and were really dead eyes, except when the rays of satirical intelligence forced themselves through them: for the sake of exciting a laugh, he had now dismissed from them every trace of meaning, and consequently every tint of colour.
His purpose effected, he resumed his sarcastic expression; and turning from me with a look full of sarcastic meaning, he said, "Ah!comme de coutume—after tragedy comes farce."
My mother now asked him whether he had ever seen her house and garden; and on his answering in the negative, she challenged him to take a walk with her.
"I never," replied he, bowing very low, "refused the challenge of a fine woman in my life; and till my horses come round, I am at your service, madam." Then, hiding his real chagrin under a thousand impertinent grimaces, he followed my mother.
"I would give something to hear their conversation," said Pendarves, thoughtfully.
"And so would I: no doubt it will be monitory on her part."
"Monitory! What for?"
"If you do not know, I am sure I shall not tell you."
And with an expression of conscious embarrassment on his countenance, my husband asked me to walk with him round the shrubbery.
My mother and Lord Charles did not return till the carriage was driving up. We examined their countenances with a very scrutinizing eye; but on my mother's all we could distinguish was her usual expression of placid and dignified intelligence; that of Lord Charles exhibited its usualcattishand alarming look.
What had passed, therefore, we could not guess; but we saw very clearly, that we should not be justified in joking on the subject of theirtête-à-tête; and simply saying that it was beyond the time fixed for his departure, Lord Charles now respectfully kissed my hand, and told Pendarves he hoped he should soon see him in London. He then left the room without taking the smallest notice of my mother, and was driving off before my husband could ask him a reason of conduct so strange.
"Pray, madam," said Pendarves, when he returned into the room, "did Lord Charles take leave of you?"
"He did not."
"Then I solemnly declare that before we ever meet again he shall give me a sufficient reason for his impertinence, or apologize to you; for there lives not the being who shall dare, while I live, to affront you with impunity."
"My dear, dear son," cried my mother, "look not so like, soverylike—"
Here her voice failed her, and she leant on Seymour's shoulder, while he affectionately embraced her. Dear to my heart were any tokens of love which passed between my mother and my husband.
Seymour's strong likeness to my father in moments of great excitement always affected her thus, and endeared him to her.
When my mother recovered herself, she desired Pendarves would remain quiet, and not trouble himself to revenge her quarrels.
"Indeed," said she, "I am much flattered, and not affronted, by the rudeness of Lord Charles, as it proves that what I said to him gave him the pain which I intended. The wound therefore will rankle for some time, and produce a good effect. Nor should I be surprised if he were to send me a letter of apology in a day or two; for, if I read him aright, he has understanding enough to value the good opinion of a respectable woman, and would rather be on amicable terms with me than not."
"I hope you are right," replied Pendarves; "for I do not wish to quarrel with him: yet I will never own as my friend the man who fails in respect to you."
"I thank you, my dear son," said my mother with great feeling, and the evening passed in the most delightful and intimate communion. Nor I really believe, were Charlotte Jermyn or Lord Charles again remembered. So true is it, that when the tide of family affection runs smooth and unbroken, it bears the bark of happiness securely on its bosom.
Shortly after Lord Charles's visit I was so unwell, that I was forbidden to nurse my child any longer, and I had to endure the painful trial of weaning and surrendering her to the bosom of another. But most evils in this life, even to our mortal vision, are attended with a counter-balancing good.
At this time it was the height of the gay season in London, and I saw that my husband began to grow tired of home, and sigh for the busy scenes of the metropolis, whither, had I been still a nurse, I could not have accompanied him: but now, however unwilling I might be to leave my infant, I felt that it must not interfere with the duty which I owed its father; for my mother had often said, and my own observation confirmed the truth of the saying, that alienation between husband and wife has often originated in the woman's losing sight of the duty and attention she owes the father of her children, in exclusive fondness and attention to the children themselves, and she often warned me against falling into this error.
She therefore highly approved my intention to leave my babe under her care, and accompany Pendarves to London, where she well knew he was exposed to temptations and to dangers against which my presence might probably secure him.
"Yes: my child!" said she, as if thinking aloud, for I am sure she did not intend to grieve me, "Yes, go with your husband while you can, and have as few separate pleasures and divided hours as possible; for they lead to divided hearts. But if you have a large family you will not be able to leave home. Go therefore while you can, and while I am with you, and turn me to account while I am still here to serve you. That time I know will be short enough!"
It is not in the power of language to convey an adequate idea of the agony with which I listened to these words. Never before had my mother so pointedly alluded to her conviction that her health was decaying; and if the idea of separation from her by a happy marriage was so painful to my feelings, what must be the idea of that terrible and eternal separation?
Pendarves came in in the midst of my distress and almost fiercely demanded who had been so cruelly afflicting me, fearing, no doubt, that I had heard something concerning him, and naturally enough conceiving that no great grief could reach me, except through that or from him.
My mother gently replied, "She has been afflicting herself, foolish child! I said, unwillingly I allow, what might have prepared her for an unavoidable evil; but she chooses to fancy, poor thing! that I am not mortal: yet, see here, Seymour!" As she said this she turned up her long loose sleeves, and showed him her once fine arm fallen away comparatively to nothing!
I never saw my husband much more affected: he seized that faded arm, and, pressing it repeatedly to his lips, turned away and burst into tears—then folding us in one embrace he faltered out, "My poor Helen! Well indeed might I find you thus!" But my mother solemnly promised that she would never so afflict me again.
In the midst of this scene a letter was brought to my mother. It was from Lord Charles, and was so like the man, that I shall transcribe it.
"Madam,"I doubt not but you were amazed, and probably offended, at my quitting the house of your son-in-law without taking leave of you, as you are not a woman likely to think my silence at the moment of parting from you was to be attributed to the tender passion which I had conceived for your beauty and accomplishments. But, madam, if my silence was not attributable to love, so neither was it caused by hate; and I beg leave, hat in hand, and on bended knee, to explain whence my conduct proceeded. In the first place, madam, you had given me a blow, a stunning blow; and after a man has been stunned, he does not soon recover himself sufficiently to know what he is about, and how he ought to behave. In the next place, I endeavoured to remember how the great Earl of Essex behaved when Queen Elizabeth gave him a blow, or in other words a box on the ear (for blow I need not tell a lady of your erudition is thegenus, and box on the ear thespecies). Now that noble Earl did not return the blow (which I own I was very much inclined to do), but he departed in silence from her presence, I believe; and soIin imitation ofhimfrom yours. Methinks I hear you exclaim 'The little lord is mad! I gave him no blow.' Not with your hand, I own; but with your tongue, 'that unruly member,' as St. James so justly calls it; you gave me a tingling blow on the cheek of my mind, which it still feels, and for which perhaps it may be the better. It is this consideration, and the belief that your motives were kind, though your treatment was rough, and that you only meant, like the bear in the fable, to guard me from a slight evil, though you broke my head in doing it; it is this belief, I say, that now throws me thus a suppliant at your feet, and makes me beg of you to excuse all my rudeness, and all my faults, whether caused by imitation of Lord Essex, or my own sinful propensities, and to raise me up to receive not the kiss of peace, for to that I dare not aspire, but to grasp and carry to my heart the white hand tendered to me in token of forgiveness."I am, madam, with the liveliest esteem, and the deepest respect, your obliged, though stricken servant,"Charles Firebrand."
"Madam,
"I doubt not but you were amazed, and probably offended, at my quitting the house of your son-in-law without taking leave of you, as you are not a woman likely to think my silence at the moment of parting from you was to be attributed to the tender passion which I had conceived for your beauty and accomplishments. But, madam, if my silence was not attributable to love, so neither was it caused by hate; and I beg leave, hat in hand, and on bended knee, to explain whence my conduct proceeded. In the first place, madam, you had given me a blow, a stunning blow; and after a man has been stunned, he does not soon recover himself sufficiently to know what he is about, and how he ought to behave. In the next place, I endeavoured to remember how the great Earl of Essex behaved when Queen Elizabeth gave him a blow, or in other words a box on the ear (for blow I need not tell a lady of your erudition is thegenus, and box on the ear thespecies). Now that noble Earl did not return the blow (which I own I was very much inclined to do), but he departed in silence from her presence, I believe; and soIin imitation ofhimfrom yours. Methinks I hear you exclaim 'The little lord is mad! I gave him no blow.' Not with your hand, I own; but with your tongue, 'that unruly member,' as St. James so justly calls it; you gave me a tingling blow on the cheek of my mind, which it still feels, and for which perhaps it may be the better. It is this consideration, and the belief that your motives were kind, though your treatment was rough, and that you only meant, like the bear in the fable, to guard me from a slight evil, though you broke my head in doing it; it is this belief, I say, that now throws me thus a suppliant at your feet, and makes me beg of you to excuse all my rudeness, and all my faults, whether caused by imitation of Lord Essex, or my own sinful propensities, and to raise me up to receive not the kiss of peace, for to that I dare not aspire, but to grasp and carry to my heart the white hand tendered to me in token of forgiveness.
"I am, madam, with the liveliest esteem, and the deepest respect, your obliged, though stricken servant,
"Charles Firebrand."
"Ridiculous person!" said my mother, when she had finished the letter, giving it to me at the same time.
When I had read it, I asked her to tell us what she had said to him. "And why," said Pendarves, "does he sign himself Charles Firebrand?"
"Oh! thereby hangs a tale," said my mother blushing, "which I, I assure you, shall not tell: therefore ask me no questions. If ever Lord Charles and I meet again, the white hand shall be tendered to him. Nay, perhaps I shall answer his letter."
And so she did; but we never saw what she wrote: however, I am convinced, that she had called him a firebrand, and reproved him for his evident desire of making mischief between my husband and me. Nor can I doubt but that the justice of her reproofs made them more stinging to the heart of the offender, and that he felt at the time a degree of unspeakable and unutterable resentment, on which his cooler judgment made him feel it impolitic to act; for he had, as my mother said, too much good sense not to value her acquaintance.
I must now return to Charlotte Jermyn. I forgot to say, that she wrote a very fawning letter of thanks to me after her return home, thanking me for my kindness to her, and hoping that I would send for her again whenever she could be of any service to me. I have reason to think that she also wrote more than once to my husband: but he never communicated what she wrote to me; and I had the mortification to find how vainly I had tried to give him those habits of openness and ingenuousness which can alone render the nearest and tenderest ties productive of confidence and happiness.
Now, after a silence of four months, she again wrote to me to inform me that she was married to a young ensign in a marching regiment quartered near her father's house; but as it was against her father's consent, she had been forced to go to Gretna Green, and that her father, Mr. Jermyn, continued inexorable.
This letter I communicated to my husband, who was, I found, already acquainted with the circumstance, though he did not tell me by what means he knew it. He also told me that her father has since assured her of his forgiveness; but told her at the same time, that he could bestow on her nothing else, as he had ten children, and a small income; and that the young couple had nothing to live upon except the pay of an ensign of foot.
"I am sureIcan do nothing for her," Pendarves added; "for my own wants, or rather my expenses, are beyond my means."
"And were they not," answered I, "I do not feel that Charlotte Jermyn, or rather Mrs. Saunders, has any claims on you."
"Still, I would not let her starve, if I could help it; but I cannot."
I did not like to ask whether she had applied to him to lend her money; but I suspected that she had, and that he had refused: for soon after I saw him receive a letter, which he read with an angry and flushed countenance, and thrust into the fire, muttering as he did so,
"Confounded fool, insolent!"
I felt, however, that her visit to me, and the terms which we had been upon, made it indispensable for me to give her a wedding gift, and I sent her money instead of a present in consideration of her poverty, desiring her to buy what she wanted most in remembrance of me. My letter and its contents, much to the annoyance of us both, she answered in person, bringing her husband with her; and they came with so evident an intention of staying all night, spite of the coldness of their reception, that we were forced to offer them a bed.
The next day, however, even their assurance was not proof against the repelling power of our cold civility, and they departed, neither of us prejudiced in favour of the husband, and leaving me disgusted by the wife's forward behaviour to Pendarves.
I now, according to my mother's advice, proposed to Pendarves a visit to London: but, to my great surprise, he seemed to have no relish for the scheme; and telling me we would talk further about it, he dropped the subject.
Most gladly should I have welcomed this unwillingness to go to London, if I could have attributed it to a preference for home and for the country; but I had no reason to do this, and I feared it proceeded only from inability to meet the expenses of a London establishment, even for a few weeks; and of this I was soon convinced.
I told you a few pages back, that I was so cruel as to rejoice in my aunt's being rendered unable to write, by a violent inflammation in the eyes; but as that did not deprive her of locomotion, most unexpectedly one day, Mr. and Mrs. Pendarves drove up to my mother's door, and soon after she accompanied them to our house. I was dressing when they arrived, and I saw myself change even to alarming paleness when my mother came up to announce them. I also saw she was as much disconcerted as I was.
"Oh! if my dear uncle had but come alone," said she, "the visit would have been delightful!" But, here we were interrupted by Pendarves, who came in with "So, Helen! I suppose you know who is come. Oh! that one could but transfer the disease from the eyes to the tongue, and bandage that up instead of the former! What shall we do? For, probably, as she can't use her eyes, she makes her tongue work double tide."
"Suppose," replied I, "we bribe our surgeon to assure her that entire silence is the only cure for inflamed eyes?"
"The best thing we can do," observed my mother, "is to bear with fortitude this unavoidable evil; and also to try to remember her virtues more than her faults."
When I went down, I found my mother admiring her beaver hat and feathers.
"Yes," she replied, "I think my beaver very pretty. What is it the mad poet says about 'my beaver?' Oh! I have it—