The most conspicuous among these was a tall, thin, but extremely awkward figure, which in a most fashionable undress,and with a glass held to his eye, strided into the box, and bowing with a strange gesture to Mrs. Ashwood, exclaimed—'Oh! my dear Mrs. A!—here I am!—returned from Spa only last night; and already at your feet. So here you are? and not yet enchained by that villainous fellow Hymen? You are a good soul, not to give yourself away while I was at Spa. I was horridly afraid, my dear widow! you would not have waited even to have given me a wedding favour.'
To this speech, as it required no answer, Mrs. Ashwood gave very little; for besides that she was not pleased with the matter, the manner delighted her still less. The speaker had, during the whole of it, leaned almost across the person who was next to him, to bring his glass nearly close to Emmeline's face.
Emmeline, extremely discomposed, drew back; and Mr. Rochely, who sat near her, putting away the glass softly with his hand, said very calmly to the leaning beau—'Sir, is there any occasion to take an account of this lady's features?'
'Ah! my friend Rochely!' answered he familiarly, 'what are you the lady's Cicisbeo? as we say in Italy. Here is indeed beauty enough to draw you from the contemplation of three per cent. consols, India bonds, omnium, scrip, and douceurs. But prithee, my old friend, is this young lady your ward?'
'My ward! no,' answered Rochely, 'how came you to think she was?'
Mr. Elkerton, who fancied he had vastly the advantage in point of wit, as well as of figure, over his antagonist, now desired to know, 'whether the lady was his niece? though if I had not recollected' said he, 'that you never was married, I should have taken her for your grand daughter.'
This sarcasm had, on the features of Rochely, all the effect the travelled man expected. But while he was preparing an answer, at which he was never very prompt, the coach was announced to be ready, and Emmeline, extremely weary of her situation, and disgusted even to impatience with her new acquaintance, hastily arose to go.
Elkerton offered to take her hand; which she drew from him without attempting to conceal her dislike; and accepting the arm of Rochely, followed Mrs. Ashwood; while Elkerton, determined not to lose sight of her, seized the hand of Miss Galton, who being neither young, handsome, or rich, had been left to go out alone:they followed the rest of the party to the coach, where Mrs. Ashwood and Miss Mowbray were already seated, with Mr. Hanbury; who, as he resided with his mother in the village where Mrs. Ashwood lived, was to accompany them home.
The coach being full, seemed to preclude all possibility of Elkerton's admittance. But he was not so easily put off: and telling Mrs. Ashwood he intended to go home to sup with her, he stepped immediately in, and ordered his servant, who waited at the coach door with a flambeau, to direct his vis-a-vis to follow.
Rochely, who meant to have wished them a good night after seeing them to their carriage, was too much hurt by this happy essay of assurance not to resolve to counteract **it's consequences. Elkerton, though not a very young man, was near twenty years younger than Rochely; besides the income of his business (for he was in trade) he had a large independent fortune, of which he was extremely lavish; his equipages were splendid; his house most magnificently furnished; and his cloaths the most expensive that could be bought.
Rochely, whose ideas of elegance, manners, or taste, were not very refined, had no notion that the absurdity of Elkerton, or his disagreeable person, would prevent his being a very formidable rival. He therefore saw him with great pain accompany Emmeline home; and though he had formed no positive designs himself, he could not bear to suppose that another might form them with success.
Directing therefore his chariot to follow the coach, he was set down at the door a few minutes after Mrs. Ashwood and her party; where Emmeline, still more displeased with Elkerton, and having been teized by his impertinent admiration the whole way, looked as if she could have burst into tears.
Mrs. Ashwood, in a very ill humour, hardly attended to his flourishing speeches with common civility; he had therefore recourse to Miss Galton, to whom he was giving the history of his travels, which seemed to take up much of his thoughts.
Miss Galton, who by long dependance and repeated disappointments had acquired the qualifications necessary for a patient hearer, acquiesced in smiling silence to all his assertions; looked amazed in the right place; and heard, with great complacency, his wonderful success at cards, and the favour he was in with women of the first fashion at Spa.
The entrance of Mr. Rochely gave no interruption to his discourse. He bowed slightly to him without rising, and then went on, observing that he had now seen every part of Europe worth seeing, and meant, at least for some years, to remain in England; the ladies of which country he preferred to every other, and therefore intended taking a wife among them. Fortune was, he declared, to him no object; but he was determined to marry the handsomest woman he could meet with, for whom he was now looking out.
As he said this, he turned his eyes towards Emmeline; who affecting not to hear him, tho' he spoke in so loud a tone as to make it unavoidable, was talking in a low voice to Mr. Rochely.
Rochely placing himself close to her, had thrown his arm over the back of her chair; and leaning forward, attended to her with an expression in his countenance of something between apprehension and hope, that gave it the most grotesque look imaginable.
Mrs. Ashwood, who had been entertained apart by Mr. Hanbury, now hurried over the supper; during which Elkerton, still full of himself, engrossed almost all the conversation; gave a detail of the purchases he had made abroad, and the trouble he had to land them; interspersed withbon motsof French Marquises and German Barons, and witty remarks of an English Duke with whom he had crossed the water on his return. But whatever story he told, himself was still forwardest in the picture; his project of marrying an handsome wife was again repeated; and he told the party how charming a house he had bought in Kent, and how he had furnished his library.
Rochely, who lay in wait to revenge himself for all the mortifications he had suffered from him during the evening, took occasion to say, in his grave, cold manner, 'to be sure a man of your taste and erudition, Mr. Elkerton, cannot do without a library; but for my part, I think you will find no books can say so much to the purpose as those kept by your late father in Milk-Street, Cheapside.'
Elkerton turned pale at this sneer; but forcing a smile of contempt, answered, 'You bankers have no ideas out of your compting-houses; and rich as ye are, will never be any thing butdes bourgeois les plus grossieres! For my part I see no reason why—why a man's being in business, should prevent his enjoying theeleganciesandagrémentsof life, especially if he canaffordit; as it is well known, I believe, even toyou, Sir,that I can."
'Oh! Sir,' replied Rochely, 'I know your late father wasreputedto have died rich, and that no body has made a betterfigure about townthanyouhave, ever since.'
'As to figure, Sir,' returned the other, 'it is true I like to have every thing about mecomme il faut. And though I don't make fifty per cent. of money, assomegentlemen do inyourway of business, I assure you, Sir, I do nothing that I cannot very well afford.'
Mrs. Ashwood, who thought it very likely a quarrel might ensue, here endeavoured to put an end to such very unpleasant discourse; and prevented Mr. Hanbury, who equally hated them both, from trying to irritate them farther, to which he maliciously inclined.
The hints, however, of fatigue, given by her and Miss Mowbray, obliged Mr. Rochely to ring that his chariot might be called, which had waited at the door; while Elkerton, who had a pair of beautiful pied horses in his vis-à-vis, desired to have them sent for from a neighbouring inn—'forI' said he, rising and strutting round the room, 'never suffermypeople ormyhorses to wait in the streets.'
He then leant over Emmeline's chair, and began in a court tone to renew his compliments. But she suddenly arose; and begging Mrs. Ashwood would give her leave to retire, wished Mr. Rochely and ladies a good night; and slightly curtseying to Elkerton, who was putting himself into the attitude for a speech and a bow, she tripped away.
Rochely, as soon as she was gone, hastened to his chariot; and Elkerton, whose people were in no haste to leave the ale-house, begged to sit down 'till they came.
Mrs. Ashwood had been the whole evening particularly out of humour, and being no longer able to command it, answered peevishly, 'that her house was much at his service, but that she was really so much fatigued she must retire—however,' said she, 'Miss Galton, you will be so good as to stay with Mr. Elkerton—good night to you, Sir!'
He was no sooner alone with Miss Galton, than he desired her, after a speech (which he endeavoured to season with as much flattery as it would bear) to tell him who Emmeline was?
'Upon my word, Sir,' answered she, 'it is more than I know. Her name is Mowbray; and she is somehow connected with the family of Lord Montreville; butwhatrelation,' (sneeringly answered she) 'I really cannot pretend even to guess.'
'A relation of Lord Montreville!' cried Elkerton; 'why I knew his Lordship intimately when I was abroad three or four years ago. He was at Naples with his son, his lady, and two daughters; and I was domesticated, absolutely domesticated, among them. But pray what relation to them can this Miss Mowbray be?'
'Probably,' said Miss Galton, 'as you know his Lordship, you may know what connections and family he has. I suppose she may be his cousin—or his niece—or his——.'
Here she hesitated and smiled; and Elkerton, whose carriage was now at the door, and who had a clue which he thought would procure him all the information he wanted, took leave of Miss Galton; desiring her to tell Mrs. Ashwood that he should wait upon her again in a few days.
Delamere continued in Norfolk only a few weeks after his father and the family came thither. During that time, he appeared restless and dissatisfied; his former vivacity was quite lost; he shunned society; and passed almost all his time in the fields, under pretence of hunting or shooting, tho' the greatest satisfaction those amusements now afforded him was the opportunity they gave him of absenting himself from home. He seldom returned thither 'till six or seven o'clock; dined alone in his own apartment; and affected to be too much fatigued to be able to meet the party who assembled to cards in the evening.
Lady Mary Otley and her daughter, a widow lady of small fortune in the neighbourhood, with Lord and Lady Montreville and their eldest daughter, made up a party without him. Augusta Delamere had been left in their way from the North, with a relation of his Lordship's who lived near Scarborough, with whom she was to remain two months.
The party at Audley-Hall was soon encreased by Sir Richard Crofts and his eldest son, who came every autumn on a visit to Lord Montreville, and who was his most intimate friend.
Lord Montreville, during the short time he studied at the Temple, became acquainted with Sir Richard, then clerk to an attorney in the city; who, tho' there was a great difference in theirrank, had contrived to gain the regard and esteem of his Lordship (then Mr. Frederic Mowbray) and was, when he came to his estate, entrusted with it's management; a trust which he appeared to execute with such diligence and integrity, that he soon obtained the entire confidence of his patron; and by possessing great ductility and great activity, he was soon introduced into a higher line of life, and saw himself the companion and friend of those, to whom, at his setting out, he appeared only an humble retainer.
Born in Scotland, he boasted of his ancestry, tho' his immediate predecessors were known to be indigent and obscure; and tho' he had neither eminent talents, nor any other education than what he had acquired at a free-school in his native town, he had, by dint of a very common understanding, steadily applied to the pursuit of one point; and assisted by the friendship of Lord Montreville, acquired not only a considerable fortune, but a seat in Parliament and a great deal of political interest, together with the title of a Baronet.
He had less understanding than cunning; less honesty than industry; and tho' he knew how to talk warmly and plausibly of honour, justice, and integrity, he was generally contented only to talk of them, seldom so imprudent as to practice them when he could get place or profit by their sacrifice.
He had that sort of sagacity which enabled him to enter into the characters of those with whom he conversed: he knew how to humour their prejudices, and lay in wait for their foibles to turn them to his own advantage.
To his superiors, the cringing parasite; to those whom he thought his inferiors, proud, supercilious, and insulting; and his heart hardening as his prosperity encreased, he threw off, as much as he could, every connection that reminded him of the transactions of his early life, and affected to live only among the great, whose luxuries he could now reach, and whose manners he tried to imitate.
He had two sons by an early marriage with a woman of small fortune, who was fortunately dead; for had she lived, she would probably have been concealed, lest she should disgrace him.
To his sons, however, he had given that sort of education which was likely to fit them for places under government; and he had long secretly intended the eldest for one of the Miss Delameres.
Delamere, all warmth and openness himself, detested thenarrow-minded and selfish father; and had shewn so much coolness towards the sons, that Sir Richard foresaw he would be a great impediment to his designs, and had therefore the strongest motive for trying to persuade Lord Montreville, that to send him on another tour to the Continent, would be the best means of curing him of what this deep politician termed 'a ridiculous and boyish whim, which his Lordship ought at all events to put an end to before it grew of a more dangerous consequence.'
Mr. Crofts, as he was no sportsman, passed his mornings in riding out with Miss Delamere and Miss Otley, or attending on the elder ladies in their airings: while Delamere, who wished equally to shun Miss Otley, whom he determined never to marry, and Crofts, whom he despised and hated, lived almost alone, notwithstanding the entreaties of his father and the anger of his mother.
Her Ladyship, who had never any command over her passions, harrassed him, whenever they met, with sarcasms and reflections. Lady Mary, scorningtotalk to a young man who was blind to the merits of her daughter, talkedathim whenever she found an opportunity; and exclaimed against the disobedience, dissipation, and ill-breeding of modern young men: while Miss Otley affected a pretty disdain; and flirted violently with Mr. Crofts, as if to shew him that she was totally indifferent to his neglect.
The temper of Delamere was eager and irritable; and he bore the unpleasantness of this society, whenever he was forced to mix in it, with a sort of impatient contempt. But as he hourly found it more irksome, and the idea of Emmeline press every day more intensely on his heart, he determined, at the end of the third week, to go to London.
Not chusing to have any altercation with either Lord or Lady Montreville, he one evening ordered his man to have his horses ready at five o'clock the next day, saying he was to meet the foxhounds at some distance from home; and having written a letter to his Lordship, in which he told him he was going to London for a fortnight, (which letter he left on the table in his dressing-room) he mounted his horse, and was soon in town; but instead of going to the house of his father in Berkley-Square, he took lodgings in Pall-Mall.
Every night he frequented those public places which were yet open, in hopes of finding Emmeline; and his servant was constantlyemployed for the same purpose; but as he had no trace of her, all his enquiries were fruitless.
On the night that Emmeline was at the play, he had been at Covent-garden Theatre, and meant to have looked into the other house; but was detained by meeting a young foreigner from whom he had received civilities at Turin, 'till the house was empty. So narrowly did he miss finding her he so anxiously sought.
Elkerton, in looking about for the happy woman who was worthy the exalted situation of being his wife, had yet seen none whom he thought so likely to succeed to that honour as Miss Mowbray; and if she was, on enquiry, found to be as she was represented, (related to Lord Montreville) it would be so great an additional advantage, that he determined in that case to lay himself and his pied horses, his house in Kent, his library, and his fortune, all at her feet immediately. Nor did he once suffer himself to suspect that there was a woman on earth who could withstand such a torrent of good fortune.
In pursuance therefore of this resolution, he determined to make enquiry of Lord Montreville himself; of whom he had just known so much at Naples as to receive cards of invitation to Lady Montreville'sconversationes.
There, he mingled with the croud; and was slightly noticed as an Englishman of fortune; smiled at for his affectation of company and manners, which seemed foreign to his original line of life; and then forgotten.
But Elkerton conceived this to be more than introduction enough; and dressing himself in what he thoughtun disabille la plus imposante, and with his servants in their morning liveries, he stopped at the door of Lord Montreville.
'Lord Montreville was not at home.'
'When was he expected?'
'It was uncertain: his Lordship was at Audley-hall, and might be in town in a fortnight; or might not come up till the meeting of Parliament.'
'And are all the family there?' enquired Elkerton of the porter.
'No, Sir; Mr. Delamere is in town.'
'And when can I see Mr. Delamere?'
The porter could not tell, as he did not live in Berkley-Square.
'Where, then, is he?'
'At lodgings in Pall-Mall:' (for Delamere had left his direction with his father's servants.)
Elkerton therefore took the address with a pencil; and determined, without farther reflection, to drive thither.
It was about four o'clock, and in the middle of November, when Delamere had just returned to his lodgings, to dress before he met his foreign friend, and some other young men, to dine at a tavern in St. James's-Street, when a loud rap at the door announced a visitor.
Millefleur having no orders to the contrary, and being dazzled with the splendour of Elkerton's equipage, let him in; and he was humming an Italian air out of tune, in Delamere's drawing-room, when the latter came out in his dressing-gown and slippers to receive him.
Delamere, on seeing the very odd figure and baboonish face of Elkerton, instead of that of somebody he knew, stopped short and made a grave bow.
Elkerton advancing towards him, bowed also profoundly, and said, 'I am charmed, Sir, with being permitted the honour of paying you my devoirs.'
Delamere concluded from his look and bow, as well as from a foreign accent, (which Elkerton had affected 'till it was become habitual) that the man was either a dancing master or a quack doctor, sent to him by some of his companions, who frequently exercised on each other such efforts of practical wit. He therefore being not without humour, bowed again more profoundly than before; and answered, 'that the honour was entirely his, tho' he did not know how he had deserved it.'
'I was so fortunate, Sir,' resumed Elkerton, 'so fortunate as to—have the honour—the happiness—of knowing Lord Montreville and Lady Montreville a few years ago at Naples.'
Delamere, still confirmed in his first idea, answered, 'very probably, Sir.'
'And, Sir,' continued Elkerton, 'I now waited uponyou, as his Lordship is not in town.'
'Indeed, Sir, you are too obliging.'
'To ask, Sir, a question, which I hope will not be deemed—be deemed—' (a word did not immediately occur) 'be deemed—improper—intrusive—impertinent—inquisitive—presuming—— '
'I dare say, Sir, nothing improper, intrusive, impertinent, inquisitive, or presuming, is to be apprehended from a gentleman of your appearance.'
Delamere expected something very ridiculous to follow this ridiculous introduction, and with some difficulty forbore laughing.
Elkerton went on——
'It relates, Sir, to a Lady.'
'Pray, Sir, proceed. I am really impatient where a lady is concerned.'
'You are acquainted, Sir, with a lady of the name of Ashwood, who lives at Clapham?'
'No, really Sir, I am not so happy.'
'I fancy then, Sir, I have been misinformed, and beg pardon for the trouble I have presumed to give: but I understood that the young lady who lives with her was a relation of Lord Montreville.'
A ray of fire seemed to flash across the imagination of Delamere, and to inflame all his hopes. He blushed deeply, and his voice faultering with anxiety, he cried—
'What?—who, Sir?—a young lady?—what young lady?'
'Miss Mowbray, they tell me, is her name; and I understand, Sir—but I dare say from mistake—that she is of your family.'
Delamere could hardly breathe. He seemed as if he was in a dream, and dared not speak for fear of awaking.
Elkerton, led on by the questions Delamere at length summoned resolution to ask, proceeded to inform him of all he knew; how, where, and how often, he had seen Emmeline, and of his intentions to offer himself a candidate for her favour—'for notwithstanding, Sir,' said he, 'that Mr. Rochely seems to befort avant en ses bon graces, I think—I hope—I believe, that his fortune—(and yet his fortune does not perhaps so much exceed mine as many suppose)—his fortune will hardly turn the balance againstme; especially if I have the sanction of Lord Montreville; to whom I suppose (as you seem to acknowledge some affinity between Miss Mowbray and his Lordship) it will be no harm if I apply.'
Thro' the mind of Delamere, a thousand confused ideas rapidly passed. He was divided between his joy at having found Emmeline, his vexation at knowing she was surrounded by rivals, and his fear that his father might, by the application of Elkerton to him, know that Emmeline's abode was no longer a secret: and amidst these various sensations, he was able only to express hisdislike of Elkerton, whose presumption in thinking of Emmeline appeared to cancel the casual obligation he owed to him for discovering her.
'Sir,' said he haughtily, as soon as he could a little recover his recollection, 'I am very well assured that Lord Montreville will not hear any proposals for Miss Mowbray. His Lordship has, in fact, no authority over her; and besides he is at present about to leave his house in Norfolk, and I know not when he will be in town; perhaps not the whole winter; he is now going to visit some friends, and it will be impossible you can have any access to him for some months. As to myself, you will excuse me; I am engaged to dine out.'
He rang the bell, and ordered the servant who entered to enquire for the gentleman's carriage. Then bowing coolly to him, he went into his dressing room, and left the mortified Elkerton to regret the little success of an attempt which he doubted not would have excited, in the hearts of all those related to Miss Mowbray, admiration at his generosity, and joy for the good fortune of Emmeline: for he concluded, by her being a companion to Mrs. Ashwood, that she had no fortune, or any dependance but on the bounty of Lord Montreville.
Delamere, whose ardent inclinations, whatever turn they took, were never to be a moment restrained, rang for his servants; and dispatching one of them with an excuse to his friends, he sent a second for an hackney-coach. Then ordering up a cold dinner, which he hardly staid to eat, he got into the coach, and directed it to be driven as fast as possible to Clapham Common; where he asked for the house of Mrs. Ashwood, and was presently at the door.
The servant had that moment opened the iron gate, to let out a person who had been to his mistress upon business. Delamere therefore enquiring if Miss Mowbray was at home, entered without ringing, and telling the servant that he had occasion to speak to Miss Mowbray only, the man answered, 'that she was alone in the dressing room.' Thither therefore he desired to be shewn; and without being announced, he entered the room.
Instead of finding her alone, he saw her sit at work by a little table, on which were two wax candles; and by her side, with his arm, as usual, over the back of her chair, and gazing earnestly on her face, sat Mr. Rochely.
Emmeline did not look up when he came in, supposing it was the servant with tea. Delamere therefore was close to the table when she saw him. The work dropped from her hands; she grew pale, and trembled; but not being able to rise, she only clasped her hands together, and said faintly, 'Oh! heaven!—Mr. Delamere!'
'Yes, Emmeline, it is Mr. Delamere! and what is there so extraordinary in that? I was told you were alone: may I beg the favour of a few minutes conversation?'
Emmeline knew not what to reply. She saw him dart an angry and disdainful look at poor Rochely; who, alarmed by the entrance of a stranger that appeared on such a footing of familiarity, and who possessed the advantages of youth and a handsome person, had retreated slowly towards the fire, and now surveyed Delamere with scrutinizing and displeased looks; while Delamere said to Emmeline—'if you have no particular business with this gentleman, will you go into some other room, that I may speak to you on an affair of consequence?'
'Sit down' said Emmeline, recovering her surprize; 'sit down, and I will attend you presently. Tell me, how is your sister Augusta?'
'I know not. She is in Yorkshire.'
'And Lord Montreville?'
'Well, I believe. But what is all this to the purpose? can I not speak to you, but in the presence of a third person?'
Unequivocal as this hint was, Rochely seemed determined not to go, and Delamere as resolutely bent to affront him, if he did not.
Emmeline therefore, who knew not what else to do, was going to comply with his request of a private audience, when she was luckily relieved by the entrance of Mrs. Ashwood and the tea table.
Mrs. Ashwood, surprized at seeing a stranger, and a stranger whose appearance had more fashion than the generality of her visitors, was introduced to Mr. Delamere; a ceremony he would willingly have dispensed with; and having made his bow, and muttered something about having taken the liberty to call on his relation, he sat down by Emmeline, and in a whisper told her he must and would speak to her alone before he went.
Emmeline, to whose care the tea table was allotted when Miss Galton happened not to be at Mrs. Ashwood's, now excused herself under pretence of being obliged to make tea; and while it waspassing, Mrs. Ashwood made two or three attempts to introduce general conversation; but it went no farther than a few insignificant sentences between her and Mr. Rochely.
Delamere, wholly engrossed by the tumultuous delight of having recovered Emmeline, and by contriving how to speak to her alone, thought nothing else worthy his attention; and sat looking at her with eyes so expressive of his love, that Rochely, who anxiously watched him, was convinced his solicitude was infinitely stronger than his relationship only would have produced.
He had at length learned, by constant attention to every hint and every circumstance that related to Emmeline, who she was; and had even got from Mrs. Ashwood a confused idea of Delamere's attachment to her, which the present scene at once elucidated.
Rochely saw in him not only a rival, but a rival so dangerous that all his hopes seemed to vanish at once. Unconscious, 'till then, how very indiscreetly he was in love, he was amazed at the pain he felt from this discovery; and with a most rueful countenance, sat silent and disconcerted.
Mrs. Ashwood, used to be flattered and attended to, was in no good humour with Mr. Delamere, who gave her so little of his notice: and never perhaps were a party more uncomfortable, 'till they were enlivened by the entrance of Miss Galton and Mr. Hanbury, with another gentleman.
They were hardly placed, and had their tea sent round, before a loud ring was heard, and the servant announced 'Mr. Elkerton.'
Mr. Elkerton came dancing into the room; and having spoken to Mrs. Ashwood and Emmeline, he slightly surveyed the company, and sat down.
He was very near sighted, and affected to be still more so; and Delamere having drawn his chair out of the circle, sat almost behind Emmeline; while the portly citizen who had accompanied Mr. Hanbury sat forward, near the table; Delamere was therefore hardly seen.
Elkerton began to tell them how immoderately he was fatigued. 'I have been over the whole town,' said he, 'to-day. In the morning I was obliged to attend a boring appointment upon business relative to my estate in Kent; and to meet my tenants, who disagreed with my steward; and then, I went to call upon my old friend Delamere, Lord Montreville's son, in Pall-Mall; we passeda very chearful hour discoursing of former occurrences when we were together at Turin. Upon my word, he is a good sensible young man. We have renewed our intimacy; and he has insisted upon my going down with him to his father's house in Norfolk.'
Emmeline suspended her tea making, and looked astonished.
Mrs. Ashwood seemed surprized.
But Delamere, who had at first felt inclined to be angry at the folly and forwardness of Elkerton, was now so struck with the ridicule of the circumstance, that he broke into a loud laugh.
The eyes of the company were turned towardshim, and Elkerton with great indignation took his glass to survey who it was that had thus violated the rules of good breeding; but great was his dismay and astonishment, when he beheld the very Delamere, of whom he had spoken with so much assurance, rise up, and advancing towards him, make a grave bow.—
'Sir,' said Delamere, very solemnly, 'I cannot sufficiently express my gratitude for your good opinion of me; nor my happiness to hear you intend to honour me with a visit at Audley Hall. Upon my word you aretooobliging, and I know not how I shall shew my gratitude!'
The ironical tone in which this was delivered, and the discomposed looks of the distressed Elkerton, explained the matter to the whole company; and the laugh became general.
Elkerton, tho' not easily disconcerted, could not stand it. After a sort of apology to Delamere, he endeavoured to reassume his consequence. But he had been too severely mortified; and in a few minutes arose, and under pretence of being engaged to a rout in town, went away, nobody attempting to stop him.
Rochely, who hated Elkerton, could not forbear to triumph in this discomfiture. He spoke very severely of him as a forward, impertinent, silly fellow, who was dissipating his fortune.
The old citizen heartily joined in exclaiming against such apostates from the frugality of their ancestors. 'Sir,' said he to Rochely, 'we all know thatyouare a prudent man; and that cash at your house is, as it were, in the Bank. Sir, you do honour to the city; but as to that there Mr. Elkerton, one must be cautious; but formypart, I wonder how some people go on. To my certain knowledge his father didn't die so rich as was supposed—no—not by a many thousands. Sir, I remember him—(and I am not ashamed to say it, for every body knowsIhave got my moneyhonestly, and that it's all of my own getting)—but, Sir, I remember that man's father, and not a many years ago neither, carrying out parcels, and sweeping the shop for old Jonathan Huggins. You knew old Jonathan Huggins: he did not die, I think, 'till about the year forty-one or two. You remember him, to be sure?'
Rochely, ever tremblingly alive when his age was called in question, yet fearing to deny a fact which he apprehended the other would enter into a convincing detail to prove, answered that 'he slightly remembered him when he was quite a boy.'
But his evasion availed him nothing. The old citizen, Mr. Rugby, was now got upon his own ground; and most inhumanly for the feelings of poor Rochely, began to relate in whose mayoralty old Jonathan Huggins was sheriff, and when he was mayor; who he married; who married his daughters; and how he acquired an immense fortune, all by frugality at setting out; and how one of his daughters, who had married a Lord against the old man's will, had spent more inonenight than his father did in a twelvemonth.
Delamere, who sat execrating both Jonathan Huggins and his historian, at length lost all patience; and said to Emmeline, in an half whisper, 'I can bear this no longer: leave these tedious old fools, and let me speak to you for two minutes only.'
Emmeline knew not how to refuse, without hazarding some extravagance on the part of Delamere. But as she did not like the appearance of leaving the room abruptly, she desired Mrs. Ashwood would give her permission to order candles in the parlour, as Mr. Delamere wished to speak with her alone.
As soon as the servant informed her they were ready, she went down: and Delamere followed her, having first wished Mrs. Ashwood a good night; who was too much displeased with the little attention he had shewn her, to ask him to supper, tho' she was very desirous of having a man of his fashion in the list of her acquaintance.
Delamere and Emmeline were no sooner alone, than he began to renew, with every argument he thought likely to move her, his entreaties for a private marriage. He swore that he neither could or would live without her, and that her refusal would drive him to some act of desperation.
Emmeline feared her resolution would give way; for the comparison between the people she had lately been among, and Delamere, was infinitely favourable to him. Such unabated love, in aman who might chuse among the fairest and most fortunate of women, was very seducing; and the advantages of being his wife, instead of continuing in the precarious situation she was now in, would have determined at once a mind more attentive to pecuniary or selfish motives.
But Emmeline, unshaken by such considerations, was liable to err only from the softness of her heart.
Delamere unhappy—Delamere wearing out in hopeless solicitude the bloom of life, was the object she found it most difficult to contend with: and feeble would have been her defence, had she not considered herself as engaged in honour to Lord Montreville to refuse his son, and still more engaged to respect the peace of the family of her dear Augusta.
Strengthened by these reflections, she refused, tho' in the gentlest manner, to listen to such proposals; reproached him, tho' with more tenderness in her voice and manner than she had yet shewn, for having left Audley Hall without the concurrence of Lord Montreville; and entreated him to return, and try to forget her.
'Let me perish if I do!' eagerly answered Delamere. 'No, Emmeline; if you determine to push me to extremities, to you only will be the misery imputable, when my mistaken parents, in vain repentance, hang over the tomb of their only son, and see the last of his family in an early grave. It is in your power only to save me—You refuse—farewel, then—I wish no future regret may embitter your life, and that you may find consolation in being the wife of some one of those persons who are, I see, offering you all that riches can bestow. Farewel, lovely, inhuman girl! be happy if you can—after having sacrificed to a mistaken point of honour, the repose and the life of him who lived only to adore you.'
So saying, he suddenly opened the door, and was leaving the room. But Emmeline, who shuddered at the picture he had drawn of his despair, and saw such traces of its reality on his countenance, caught his arm.
'Stay! Mr. Delamere,' cried she, 'stay yet a moment!'
'For what purpose?' answered he, 'since you refuse to hear me?'
He turned back, however, into the room; and Emmeline, who fancied she saw him the victim of his unfortunate love, could no longer command her tears.
Delamere threw himself at her feet, and embraced her knees.
'Oh Emmeline!' cried he, weeping also, 'hear me for the last time. Either consent to be mine, or let me take an eternal adieu!'
'What would you have me do? good God! what is it you expect of me?'
'To go with me to Scotland to-morrow—to night—directly!'
'Oh, no! no!—Does not Lord Montreville depend upon my honour?—can I betray a trust reposed in me?'
'Chimeras all; founded in tyranny on his part, and weakness on yours.Hehad no right to exact such a promise;youhad no right to give it. But however, send to him again to say I have seen you—summons him hither to divide us—you may certainly do so if you please; but Lord Montreville will no longer have a son; at least England, nor Europe, will contain him no longer—I will go where my father shall hear no more of me.'
'Will it content you if I promise younotto write to Lord Montreville, nor to cause him to be written to; and to see you again?'
'When?'
'To-morrow—whenever you please.'
Delamere, catching at this faint ray of hope, promised, if she would allow him to come thither when he would, he would endeavour to be calm. He made her solemnly protest that she would neither write to Lord Montreville, or procure another to do it; and that she would not leave Mrs. Ashwood without letting him know when and whither she went; and if by any accident his father heard of his having found her, that she would enter into no new engagements to conceal herself from him.
Having procured from her these assurances, which he knew she would not violate, and having obtained her consent to see him early the next morning, he at her request agreed to take his leave; which he did with less pain than he had ever before felt at quitting her; carrying with him the delightful hope that he had made an impression on her heart, and secure of seeing her the next day, he went home comparatively happy.
Emmeline, who had wept excessively, was very unfit to return to the company; but she thought her not appearing again among them would be yet more singular. She therefore composed herself as well as she could; and after staying a few minutes to recollect her scattered spirits, she entered the room where they were at cards.
Rochely, who was playing at whist with Mrs. Ashwood, Mr.Rugby, and Mr. Hanbury, looked anxiously at her eyes; and presently losing all attention to what he was about, and forgetting his game, he played so extremely ill, that he lost the rubber.
The old cit, who had three half crowns depending, and who was a determined grumbler at cards, fell upon him without mercy; and said so many rude things, that Rochely could not help retorting; and it was with some difficulty Mrs. Ashwood prevented the grossest abuse being lavished from the enraged Rugby on the enamoured banker; who desiring to give his cards to Miss Galton, got up and ordered his carriage.
Emmeline sat near the fire, with her handkerchief in her hand, which was yet wet with tears.
Rochely, with a privilege he had been used to, and which Emmeline, from a man old enough to be her father, thought very inconsequential, took her hand and the handkerchief it held.
'So, Miss Mowbray,' said he, 'Mr. Delamere is your near relation?'
'Yes, Sir.'
'And he has brought you, I fear, some ill news of your family?'
'No, Sir,' sighed Emmeline.
'No death, I hope?'
'No, Sir.'
'Whence then, these tears?'
Emmeline drew her hand away.
'What a strange young man this is, to make you cry. What has he been saying to you?'
'Nothing, Sir.'
'Ah! Miss Mowbray; such a lad as that is but an indifferent guardian; pray where does his father live?'
Miss Mowbray, not aware of the purpose of this enquiry, and glad of any thing that looked like common conversation, answered 'at Audley Hall, in Norfolk; and in Berkley-Square.'
Some other questions, which seemed of no consequence, Rochely asked, and Emmeline answered; 'till hearing his carriage was at the door, he went away.
'Idon't like your Mr. Delamere at all, Miss Mowbray,' said Mrs. Ashwood, as soon as the game ended. 'I never saw a prouder, more disagreeable young man in my life.'
Emmeline smiled faintly, and said she was sorry he did not please her.
'No, nor me neither,' said Miss Galton. 'Such haughtiness indeed!—yet I was glad he mortified that puppy Elkerton.'
Emmeline, who found the two friends disposed to indulge their good nature at the expence of the company of the evening, complained of being fatigued, and asked for a glass of wine and water: which having drank, she retired to bed, leaving the lady of the house, who had invited Mr. Hanbury and his friend to supper, to enjoy more stories of Jonathan Huggins, and the pretty satyrical efforts of Miss Galton, who made her court most effectually by ridiculing and villifying all their acquaintance whenever it was in her power.
When Rochely got home, he set about examining the state of his heart exactly as he would have examined the check book of one of his customers.
He found himself most miserably in love. But avarice said, Miss Mowbray had no fortune.
By what had passed in his bosom that evening, he had discovered that he should be wretched to see her married to another.
But avarice enquired how he could offer to marry a woman without a shilling?
Love, represented that her modest, reserved, and unambitious turn, would perhaps make her, in the end, a more profitable match than a woman educated in expence, who might dissipate more than she brought.
Avarice asked whether he could depend on modesty, reserve, and a retired turn, in a girl not yet eighteen?
After a long discussion, Love very unexpectedly put to flight the agent of Plutus, who had, with very little interruption, reigned despoticly over all his thoughts and actions for many years; and Rochely determined to write to Lord Montreville, to lay his circumstances before him, and make a formal proposal to marry Miss Mowbray.
In pursuance of this resolution, he composed, with great pains, (for he was remarkably slow in whatever he undertook) the following epistle.—
'My Lord,'This serves to inform your Lordship, that I have seen Miss Mowbray, and like her well enough to be willing to marry her, if you, my Lord, have not any other views for her; and as to fortune, I will just give your Lordship a memorandum of mine.'I have sixty thousand pounds in the stocks; viz. eighteen in the three per cent. consols. twenty in Bank stock: ten in East India stock; and twelve in South Sea annuities.'I have about forty thousand on different mortgages; all good, as I will be ready at any time to shew you. I have houses worth about five more. And after the death of my mother, who is near eighty, I shall have an estate in Middlesex worth ten more. The income of my business is near three thousand pounds a year; and my whole income near ten thousand.'My character, my Lord, is well known: and you will find, if we agree, that I shall not limit Miss Mowbray's settlement to the proportion of what your Lordship may please to give her, (for I suppose you will give her something) but to what she ought to have as my widow, if it should so happen that she survives me.'I have reason to believe Miss Mowbray has no dislike to this proposal; and hope to hear from your Lordship thereon by return of post.I am, my Lord,your Lordship's very humble servant,Humphrey Rochely.'Lombard-Street,Nov. 20th. 17—.
'My Lord,
'This serves to inform your Lordship, that I have seen Miss Mowbray, and like her well enough to be willing to marry her, if you, my Lord, have not any other views for her; and as to fortune, I will just give your Lordship a memorandum of mine.
'I have sixty thousand pounds in the stocks; viz. eighteen in the three per cent. consols. twenty in Bank stock: ten in East India stock; and twelve in South Sea annuities.
'I have about forty thousand on different mortgages; all good, as I will be ready at any time to shew you. I have houses worth about five more. And after the death of my mother, who is near eighty, I shall have an estate in Middlesex worth ten more. The income of my business is near three thousand pounds a year; and my whole income near ten thousand.
'My character, my Lord, is well known: and you will find, if we agree, that I shall not limit Miss Mowbray's settlement to the proportion of what your Lordship may please to give her, (for I suppose you will give her something) but to what she ought to have as my widow, if it should so happen that she survives me.
'I have reason to believe Miss Mowbray has no dislike to this proposal; and hope to hear from your Lordship thereon by return of post.
I am, my Lord,your Lordship's very humble servant,Humphrey Rochely.'
Lombard-Street,Nov. 20th. 17—.
This was going to the point at once. The letter arrived in due time at Audley-Hall; and was received by Lord Montreville with surprise and satisfaction. The hint of Miss Mowbray's approbation made him hope she was yet concealed from Delamere; and as he determined to give the earliest and strongest encouragement to this overture, from a man worth above an hundred thousand pounds, he called a council with Sir Richard Crofts, who knew Rochely, and who kept cash with him; and it was determined that Lord Montreville should go to town, not only to close at once with the opulent banker, but to get Delamere out of the way while the marriage was in agitation, which it would otherwise be impossible to conceal from him. To persuade him to another continental tourwas what Sir Richard advised: and agreed to go to town with his Lordship, in order to assist in this arduous undertaking.
Lord Montreville, however, failed not immediately to answer the letter he had received from Mr. Rochely, in these terms—
'Sir,'This day's post brought me the honour of your letter.'If Miss Mowbray is as sensible as she ought to be, of so flattering a distinction, be assured it will be one of the most satisfactory events of my life to see her form a connection with a gentleman truly worthy and respectable.'To hasten the completion of an event so desirable, I fully intend being in town in a very few days; when I will, with your permission, wait on you in Lombard-Street.'I have the honour to be, with great esteem,Sir,your most devoted,and most obedient servant,Montreville.'Audley-Hall, Nov. 23.
'Sir,
'This day's post brought me the honour of your letter.
'If Miss Mowbray is as sensible as she ought to be, of so flattering a distinction, be assured it will be one of the most satisfactory events of my life to see her form a connection with a gentleman truly worthy and respectable.
'To hasten the completion of an event so desirable, I fully intend being in town in a very few days; when I will, with your permission, wait on you in Lombard-Street.
'I have the honour to be, with great esteem,
Sir,your most devoted,and most obedient servant,Montreville.'
Audley-Hall, Nov. 23.
The haughty Peer, who derived his blood from the most antient of the British Nobility, thus condescended to flatter opulence and to court the alliance of riches. Nor did he think any advances he could make, beneath him, when he hoped at once to marry his niece to advantage, and what was yet more material, put an invincible bar between her and his son.
While this correspondence, so inimical to Delamere's hopes, was passing between his father and Mr. Rochely, he was every hour with Emmeline; intoxicated with his passion, indulging the most delightful hopes, and forgetting every thing else in the world.
He had found it his interest to gain (by a little more attention, and some fine speeches about elegance and grace,) the good opinion of Mrs. Ashwood; who now declared she had been mistaken in her first idea of him, and that he was not only quite a man of fashion, but possessed an excellent understanding and very refined sentiments.
The sudden death of her father had obliged her to leave home some days before: but as soon as she was gone, Emmeline, who foresaw that Delamere would be constantly with her, sent for Miss Galton.
No remonstrance of her's could prevent his passing every day at the house, from breakfast 'till a late hour in the evening.
On the last of these days, he was there as usual; and it was past eight at night, when Emmeline, who had learned to play on the harp, by being present when Mrs. Ashwood received lessons on that instrument, was singing to Delamere a little simple air of which he was particularly fond, and into which she threw so much pathos, that lost in fond admiration, he 'hung over her, enamoured,' when she was interrupted by the entrance of a servant, who said that a Lord, but he forgot the name, was below, and desired to speak with Miss Mowbray.
If Emmeline was alarmed at the sight of Lord Montreville at Swansea, when she had acted with the strictest attention to his wishes, she had now much more reason to be so, when she felt herself conscious of having given encouragement to Delamere, and had reason to fear her motives for doing so would be misbelieved or misunderstood.
Tho' the servant had forgotten his name, Emmeline doubted not but it was Lord Montreville; and she had hardly time to think how she should receive him, before his Lordship (who had impatiently followed the servant up stairs) entered the room.
Delamere, immovable behind Emmeline's chair, was the first object that struck him.
He had hoped that her residence was yet unknown to his son; and surprise, vexation, and anger, were marked in his countenance and attitude.
'Miss Mowbray!' (advancing towards her) 'is it thus you fulfil the promise you gave me? And you, Mr. Delamere—do you still obstinately persist in this ridiculous, this unworthy attachment?'
'I left you, my Lord,' answered Delamere, 'without deceiving you as to my motives for doing so. I came in search of Miss Mowbray. By a fortunate accident I found her. I have never dissimulated; nor ever mean it in whatever relates to her. Nothing has prevented my making her irrevocably mine, but her too scrupulous adherence to a promisesheought never to have given, and which yourLordshipought never to have extorted.'
Emmeline, gentle as she was, had yet that proper spirit which conscious worth seldom fails of inspiring: and knowing that she had already sacrificed much to the respect she thought Lord Montreville entitled to, she was hurt at finding, from his angryand contemptuous tone, as well as words, that she was condemned unheard, and treated with harshness where she deserved only kindness and gratitude.
The courage of which her first surprise had deprived her, was restored by these sensations; and she said, with great coolness, yet with less timidity than usual, 'my Lord, I have yet done nothing in violation of the promise I gave you. But the moment your Lordship doubts my adherence to it, from that moment I consider it as dissolved.'
Delamere, encouraged by an answer so flattering to his hopes, now addressed himself to his father, who was by this time seated; and spoke so forcibly of his invincible attachment, and his determined purpose never to marry any other woman, that the resolution of Lord Montreville was shaken, and would perhaps have given way, if the violent and clamorous opposition of his wife on one hand, and the ambitious projects and artful advice of Sir Richard Crofts on the other, had not occurred to him. He commanded himself so far as not to irritate Delamere farther, by reflections on the conduct of Emmeline, which he found would not be endured; and trying to stifle his feelings under the dissimulation of the courtier, he heard with patience all he had to urge. He even answered him with temper; made an apology to Emmeline for any expressions that might have given her offence; and at length threw into his manner a composure that elated Delamere to a degree of hope hitherto unfelt. He fancied that his father, weary of hopeless opposition, and convinced of the merit of Emmeline, would consent to his marriage: and his quick spirit seizing with avidity on an idea so flattering, converted into a confirmation of it, all Lord Montreville's discourse for the remainder of the visit: in which, by dissimulation on one part, and favourable expectations on the other, they both seemed to return to some degree of good humour.
Delamere agreed to go home with his father; and Lord Montreville having determined to return the next day to speak to Emmeline on the proposals of Rochely, they parted; his Lordship meditating as he went home how to prevent Delamere's interrupting the conference he wished to have on a subject which was so near his heart.
On his arrival at his own house, he found Sir Richard Crofts waiting for him, whom he detained to supper. Delamere, as soonas it was over, went to his lodgings; which Lord Montreville did not oppose, as he wished to be alone with Sir Richard; but he desired, that after that evening Delamere would return to his apartments in Berkley-Square; which he partly promised to do.
Lord Montreville related to Sir Richard what had passed, and the uneasiness he was under to find that Delamere, far from relaxing in his determination, had openly renewed his addresses; and that Emmeline seemed much less disposed to sacrifice his wishes to those of his family, than he had yet found her.
Sir Richard, himself wholly insensible to the feelings of a father, discouraged in Lord Montreville every tendency to forgive or indulge this indiscreet passion. And equally incapable of the generous sentiments of a gentleman towards a woman, young, helpless, dependant, and unfortunate, he tried to harden the heart of Lord Montreville against his orphan niece, and advised him peremptorily to insist on her marrying Rochely immediately, or, as the alternative, to declare to her that from the moment of her refusal she must expect from him neither support or countenance.
This threat on one hand, and the affluence offered her by Rochely on the other, must, he thought, oblige her to embrace his proposals. The greatest difficulty seemed to be, to prevent Delamere's impetuosity from snatching her at once out of the power of his father, by an elopement; to which, if she preferred him to Rochely, it was very probable she might be driven by harsh measures to consent; and that Delamere must have in her heart a decided preference, there could be little doubt.
Lord Montreville was apprehensive that Delamere, who had, he found, for many days lived entirely at Mrs. Ashwood's, would be there before him in the morning, and preclude all possibility of a private conversation with Emmeline.
Fitz-Edward, who could, and from the duplicity of his character would perhaps have made a diversion in his favour, was not in town; and to both the Mr. Crofts Delamere had an antipathy, which he took very little pains to conceal; they therefore could not be employed to engage him.
In this difficulty, Sir Richard offered to go himself to Miss Mowbray, that Lord Montreville might be at liberty to detain his son; pretences for which could not be wanting.
His Lordship closed with this offer with pleasure; and felt himself relieved from a painful task. His heart, though greatlychanged by a long course of good fortune, and by the habit of living among the great, was yet not quite lost to the feelings of nature.
His brother, than whom he was only a year younger, and whom he had loved thro' childhood and youth with singular attachment, was not wholly forgotten; and the softened likeness, in the countenance of Emmeline, to one whom he had so long been used to look up to with tenderness, frequently said as much for her to his affection, as her unprotected and helpless state did to his honour and his compassion. Nor, whatever pains he took to stifle his pity for his son, could he entirely reconcile to his own heart the part he was acting.
But of these feelings, meritorious as they were, he was ashamed, and dared not avow them even to himself; while he was intimidated by the supercilious spirit and unconquerable pride of Lady Montreville, and tempted by the visions of encreasing splendour and accumulated riches which Sir Richard perpetually presented to his imagination, and which there was indeed but little doubt of realizing.
The Mowbray family were known to possess abilities. Those of the deceased Mr. Mowbray were remarkably great, tho' he had thrown away his time and health in a course of dissipation which had made them useless.
The talents of Lord Montreville, tho' less brilliant, were more solid. And now in the meridian of life, with powerful connections and extensive interest, he was courted to accept an eminent post in administration, with a promise of a Marquisate being restored to him, which had long lain dormant in his own family, and of the revival of which he was extremely ambitious.
To support such a dignity, his son's future fortune, ample as it must be, would not, he thought, be adequate; and could only be made so by his marrying Miss Otley or some woman of equal fortune.
This, therefore, was the weight which entirely over-balanced all his kindness for his niece, and confirmed his resolution to tear her from Delamere at whatever price.
It was much earlier than the usual hour for morning visits, when Sir Richard Crofts was at the door of Mrs. Ashwood.
Miss Mowbray had given no orders to be denied; and he was, on enquiring for her, shewn into the parlour.
As soon as the servant informed her a gentleman was below whom she found was not Delamere, she concluded it was Lord Montreville; and with a fearful and beating heart, went down.
She saw, with some surprise, a middle-aged man, of no very pleasant countenance and person, to whom she was an entire stranger; and concluding his business was with Mrs. Ashwood, she was about to retreat, when the gentleman advancing towards her, told her he waited on her, commissioned by Lord Montreville.
Emmeline sat down in silence, and Sir Richard began.
'Miss Mowbray, I have the honour to be connected with Lord Montreville, and entirely in his Lordship's confidence: you will please therefore to consider what I shall say to you as coming immediately, directly, and absolutely, from himself; and as his Lordship's decided, and unalterable, and irrevocable intentions.'
The abruptness of this speech shocked and distressed Emmeline. She grew very pale; but bowing slightly to the speaker, he went on.
'My Lord Montreville hopes and supposes, and is willing to believe, that you have not, in direct violation of your promise solemnly given, encouraged Mr. Delamere in the absurd, and impossible, and impracticable project of marrying you. But however that may have been, as it is his Lordship's firm resolution and determination never to suffer such a connection, you have, I suppose, too much sense not to see the mischief you must occasion, and bring on, and cause to yourself, by encouraging a giddy, and infatuated, and ignorant, and rash young man, to resist paternal authority.'
Emmeline was still silent.
'Now here is an opportunity of establishing yourself in affluence, and reputation, and fortune, beyond what your most sanguine hopes could offer you; and I am persuaded you will eagerly, and readily, and immediately embrace it. Lord Montreville insists upon it; the world expects it; and Mr. Delamere's family demand it of you.'
'Sir!' said Emmeline, astonished at the peremptory tone and strange purport of these words.
'It is my custom,' resumed Sir Richard, 'when I am upon business, to speak plainly, and straitly, and to the point. This then is what I have to propose—You are acquainted with Mr. Rochely, the great banker?'
'Yes, Sir.'
'He offers to my Lord Montreville to marry you; and to make settlements on you equal to what you might have claimed, had you a right to be considered as a daughter of the house of Mowbray. His real fortune is very great; his annual income superior to that of many of the nobility; and therecanbe no reason, indeed none will be allowed, or listened to, or heard of, why you should not eagerly, and instantly, and joyfully accept a proposal so infinitely superior to what you have any claim, or right, or pretence to.'
This was almost too much for poor Emmeline. Anger and disdain, which she found fast rising in her bosom, restrained her tears: but her eyes flashed indignantly on the unfeeling politician who thus so indelicately addressed her.
He would not give her time to speak; but seemed determined to overwhelm her imagination at once with the contrast he placed before her.
'If,' continued he, 'you will agree to become the wife of Mr. Rochely, as soon as settlements can be prepared, my Lord Montreville, of whose generosity, and greatness of mind, and liberality, too much cannot be said, offers to consider you as being really his niece; as being really a daughter of the Mowbray family; and, that being so considered, you may not be taken by any man portionless, he will, on the day of marriage, present, and settle on, and give you, three thousand pounds.
'Now, Miss Mowbray, consider, and weigh, and reflect on this well: and give me leave, in order that you may form a just judgment, to tell you the consequence of your refusal.
'My Lord Montreville, who is not obliged to give you the least assistance, or support, or countenance, does by me declare, that if you are so weak (to call it by no harsher name) as to refuse this astonishing, and amazing, and singular good fortune, he shall consider you as throwing off all duty, and regard, and attention to him; and as one, with whose fate it will be no longer worth hiswhile to embarrass, perplex, and concern himself. From that moment, therefore, you must drop the name of Mowbray, to which in fact you have no right, and take that of your mother, whatever it be; and you must never expect from my Lord Montreville, or the Mowbray-Delamere family, either countenance, or support, or protection.
'Now, Miss Mowbray, your answer. The proposition cannot admit of deliberation, or doubt, or hesitation, and my Lord expects it by me.'
The presence of mind which a very excellent understanding and a very innocent heart gave to Emmeline, was never more requisite than on this occasion. The rude and peremptory manner of the speaker; the dreadful alternative of Rochely on one side, and indigence on the other, thus suddenly and unexpectedly brought before her; was altogether so overcoming, that she could not for a moment collect her spirits enough to speak at all. She sighed; but her agitation was too great for tears; and at length summoning all her courage, she replied—
'My Lord Montreville, Sir, would have been kinder, had he delivered himself his wishes and commands. Such, however, as I now receive them, they require no deliberation.I will notmarry Mr. Rochely, tho' instead of the fortune you describe, he could offer me the world.—Lord Montrevillemayabandon me, but heshall notmake me wretched. Tell him therefore, Sir,' (her spirit rose as she spoke) 'that the daughter of his brother, unhappy as she is, yet boasts that nobleness of mind which her father possessed, and disclaims the mercenary views of becoming, from pecuniary motives, the wife of a man whom she cannot either love or esteem. Tell him too, that if she had not inherited a strong sense of honour, of which at least her birth does not deprive her, she might now have been the wife of Mr. Delamere, and independant of his Lordship's authority; and it is improbable, that one who has sacrificed so much to integrity, should now be compelled by threats of indigence to the basest of all actions, that of selling her person and her happiness for a subsistence. I beg thatyou, Sir, who seem to have delivered Lord Montreville's message, with such scrupulous exactness, will take the trouble to be as precise in my answer; and that his Lordship will consider it as final.'
Having said this, with a firmness of voice and manner which resentment, as well as a noble pride, supplied; she arose, curtseyedcomposedly to Sir Richard, and went out of the room; leaving the unsuccessful ambassador astonished at that strength of mind, and dignity of manner, which he did not expect in so young a woman, and somewhat mortified, that his masculine eloquence, on which he was accustomed to pride himself, and which he thought generally unanswerable, had so entirely fallen short of the effect he expected.
Unwilling however to return to Lord Montreville without hopes of success, he thought he might obtain at least some information from Mrs. Ashwood of the likeliest means to move her untractable and high spirited friend. He therefore rang the bell, and desired to speak with that lady. But as she was not yet returned from the house of her father, where a family meeting was held to inspect his will, Sir Richard failed of attempting to secure her agency; and was obliged, however reluctantly, to depart.
Emmeline, whose command of herself was exerted with too much violence not to shake her whole frame with it's effects, no sooner reached her own chamber than she found all her courage gone, and a violent passion of tears succeeded.
Her deep convulsive sighs reached the ears of Miss Galton; who entered the room, and began, in the common mode of consolation, first to enquire why she wept?
Emmeline answered only by weeping the more.
Miss Galton enquired if that gentleman was Lord Montreville.
Emmeline was unable to reply; and Miss Galton finding no gratification to her curiosity, which, mingled with envious malignity, had long been her ruling passion, was obliged to quit the unhappy Emmeline; which was indeed the only favour she could do her.
The whole morning had passed before Miss Mowbray was able to come down stairs, and when she did, her languor and dejection were excessive. Miss Galton only dined with her; if it might be called dining, for she eat nothing; but just as the cloth was removed, a coach stopped, and Mrs. Ashwood appeared, led by her brother, Mr. Stafford.
Emmeline, who had not very lately heard from her beloved friend, now eagerly enquired after her, and learned that the illness of one of her children had, together with her being far advanced in her pregnancy, prevented her coming to London with Mr. Stafford; who, tho' summoned thither immediately on his father'sdeath, had only arrived the evening before; the messenger that went having missed him at his own house, and having been obliged to follow him into another county.
He delivered to Miss Mowbray a letter from Mrs. Stafford, with which Emmeline, eager to read it, retired—
'Trust me, Emmeline, no abatement in my tender regard, has occasioned my omitting to write to you: but anxiety of mind so great, as to deprive me of all power to attend to any thing but it's immediate object.—Your poor little friend Harry, who looked so much recovered, and so full of health and spirits, when you left him at Swansea, was three weeks ago seized again with one of those fevers to which he has so repeatedly been liable, and for many days his life appeared to be in the most immediate danger. You know how far we are from a physician; and you know my anxiety for this first darling of my heart; judge then, my Emmeline, of the miserable hours I have known, between hope and fear, and the sleepless nights I have passed at the bed side of my suffering cherub; and in my present state I doubly feel all this anxiety and fatigue, and am very much otherwise than well. Of myself, however, I think not, since Harry is out of danger, and Dr. Farnaby thinks will soon be entirely restored; but he is still so very weak, that I never quit him even a moment. The rest of my children are well; and all who are capable of recollection, remember and love you.'And now, my dear Miss Mowbray, as the visitors who have been with me ever since my return from Swansea, are happily departed and no others expected, and as Mr. Stafford will be engaged in town almost all the winter, in consequence of his father's death, will you not come to me?Youonly can alleviate and share a thousand anxieties that prey on my spirits;youonly can sweeten the hour of my confinement, which will happen in January; and beforeyouonly I can sigh at liberty and be forgiven.'Ah! Emmeline—the death of Mr. Stafford's father, far from producing satisfaction as increasing our fortune, brings to me only regret and sorrow. He loved me with great affection; and I owe him a thousand obligations. The family will have reason to regret his loss; tho' the infirmities of the latter part of his life were not much alleviated by their attendance or attention.'Come to me, Emmeline, if possible; come, if you can, with Mr.
'Trust me, Emmeline, no abatement in my tender regard, has occasioned my omitting to write to you: but anxiety of mind so great, as to deprive me of all power to attend to any thing but it's immediate object.—Your poor little friend Harry, who looked so much recovered, and so full of health and spirits, when you left him at Swansea, was three weeks ago seized again with one of those fevers to which he has so repeatedly been liable, and for many days his life appeared to be in the most immediate danger. You know how far we are from a physician; and you know my anxiety for this first darling of my heart; judge then, my Emmeline, of the miserable hours I have known, between hope and fear, and the sleepless nights I have passed at the bed side of my suffering cherub; and in my present state I doubly feel all this anxiety and fatigue, and am very much otherwise than well. Of myself, however, I think not, since Harry is out of danger, and Dr. Farnaby thinks will soon be entirely restored; but he is still so very weak, that I never quit him even a moment. The rest of my children are well; and all who are capable of recollection, remember and love you.
'And now, my dear Miss Mowbray, as the visitors who have been with me ever since my return from Swansea, are happily departed and no others expected, and as Mr. Stafford will be engaged in town almost all the winter, in consequence of his father's death, will you not come to me?Youonly can alleviate and share a thousand anxieties that prey on my spirits;youonly can sweeten the hour of my confinement, which will happen in January; and beforeyouonly I can sigh at liberty and be forgiven.
'Ah! Emmeline—the death of Mr. Stafford's father, far from producing satisfaction as increasing our fortune, brings to me only regret and sorrow. He loved me with great affection; and I owe him a thousand obligations. The family will have reason to regret his loss; tho' the infirmities of the latter part of his life were not much alleviated by their attendance or attention.
'Come to me, Emmeline, if possible; come, if you can, with Mr.