"Once the calm scene of many a simple sport,When nature pleas'd, for life itself was new,And the heart promis'd what the fancy drew."
"Once the calm scene of many a simple sport,When nature pleas'd, for life itself was new,And the heart promis'd what the fancy drew."
She dwelt with a melancholy pleasure on the recollection of all the beloved companions of her earlier years, and sighed to think, that those moments of innocent delights would never again return to her. From this painfully pleasing reverie she was roused by the crying of a child, and the sound of an angry voice, exclaiming in a harsh key, "Hold your tongue, you little devil—ban't I going as fast as I can?" It seemed as if manual correction followed this expostulation, as the infant's cries were redoubled, and Selina heard its little voice, saying in a plaintive tone, "Mammy, mammy, me be a-hungry, me be tired." At that moment a turn in the road presented the speakers to her view, and she beheld a young woman, in whose pallid cheeks disease and wretchedness struggled for preeminence. A few coarse black locks strayed from under a cap, which might once have been white, but now in dirt and yellowness rivalled the complexion of the wearer, whilst it served to contrast a gaudy riband, by which it was encircled; a ragged, coloured handkerchief scarcely concealed her shrivelled bosom; and a cotton gown, which in its variegated pattern showed all the hues of the parterre, trained in the dust, and was partly caught up under her arm, below which appeared a tattered stuff petticoat, that scarcely reached to her knees. Her countenance was, if possible, more disgusting than her dress: her dark black eyes and oval forehead showed still some trace of beauty; but an expression of unblushing vice called forth sensations rather of disgust than of compassion. The little ragged urchin, that trotted by her side, endeavoured, on seeing Selina, to hide its head beneath her gown; but after a moment's deliberation, she dragged him from his concealment, and pushing him forward, desired him to demand charity. Selina, pitying the infant, more from the appearance of its associate than even from its own wretchedness, could not deny its request; and while she gave the poor child all the silver her purse contained, she inquired if the woman was its mother. "To be sure I am, my lady," replied she, in a tone of impertinent carelessness; "else what do you think I'd be troubled with such a brat as that for?" "It seems a fine boy," returned Selina, willing to rouse the maternal feelings that seemed so nearly extinct. "And where do you live?" "Down in that hut yonder, and a pretty penny I pay for it. Our landlord never comes to these here parts; if he did, he wouldn't let us be so racked; but he never thinks of us when he is away, and Mr. Smart, his agent, raises our rents just as he pleases; but he has our curses for his gains;" so saying, she seized the child roughly by the arm, and pursued her way, muttering imprecations Selina shuddered to hear. She also proceeded towards home; but her thoughts now took a more unpleasant turn. She recollected with sorrow how many poor cottages on her estate might also, with reason, lament the loss of a landlord, who had always inquired into their distresses and relieved their wants. But she, though possessed of such extensive means of being useful to her fellow-creatures, had hitherto seemed to consider the possession of fortune only as affording her a more ample opportunity for selfish gratification. She called to mind the happiness she had formerly experienced in charitable occupations; and reflected, with remorse, that since she had plunged into the vortex of dissipation, no tear had been wiped from the cheek of indigence by her generous aid—no smile of gratitude had hailed her approach to the couch of misery or pain. Of the many hours she had wasted in the pursuit of pleasure, not one had been devoted to the purposes of benevolence; and while she had lavished uncalculated sums in extravagance and folly, she had never purchased the inestimable benefit of a poor man's blessing.
This trifling incident served to awaken in Selina's mind feelings and reflections that had long lain dormant. The whole tenour of Lady Eltondale's conduct had been calculated to efface all the impressions formerly made on her, both by the precepts and example of the admirable Mrs. Galton; and while her Ladyship contrived, by cautious degrees, to impede, and finally almost destroy the correspondence with her, which might have served occasionally to recall the first, the latter was almost totally obliterated from her mind by the entirely new scenes, into which she had been introduced. As to the habits of charity, to which both from inclination and instruction she had been early habituated, but little opportunity for their exercise had occurred since her residence with the Viscountess; for the very servants at Eltondale were too polite to admit a vulgar beggar within its gates; and in London she had been taught to consider all vagrants indiscriminately as impostors, whom it was almost a crime to relieve.
But are those aware, who are anxious to find plausible excuses for delaying or omitting the fulfilment of the duties of charity, that the feelings of the human heart, though inflamed by casual restraint, are extinguished by a continued suppression? And wo be to that breast, in which the sentiments of benevolence and compassion are destroyed! The virtues of humanity, as they are those which most peculiarly belong to this present state of existence, so is the exercise of them most necessary to our individual happiness in this world; for he, whose heart has never melted at the sorrows of others, will assuredly, sooner or later, know the agony of seeking in vain for one sympathising bosom on which to repose the burden of his own.
When Selina returned home, she was scarcely less pleased than surprised to find Mr. Sedley seated at breakfast with Lady Eltondale. They were so deeply engaged in conversation, that her entrance was unnoticed by either; and as her astonishment at perceiving so unexpected a guest made her pause for a moment at the door, she heard Lady Eltondale say, apparently in continuation of a previous speech, "And have you proof of this from himself, Mr. Sedley?" "Yes; proofs such as must convince even your Ladyship; otherwise I would never have made the proposal I have done." Selina here interrupted him, but her appearance was so sudden, that it was many minutes before he could collect his thoughts to address her with any composure. Lady Eltondale, however, showed no embarrassment; she inquired most kindly what had so long detained Selina; said that she and Mr. Sedley, whom she had accidentally met at the well, had walked miles in search of her; and finally joined in her vivacious raillery against Mr. Sedley for his visible confusion. In answer to Selina's inquiries when he arrived at Cheltenham, "Only yesterday," said he; "I was quite disappointed at not meeting you at the rooms last night. How is the detestable head-ache that Lady Eltondale told me prevented your accompanying her there?" While Selina hastily dismissed the subject of her casual indisposition, which, in truth, she had hardly remembered, a momentary surprise glanced across her mind at the recollection, that Lady Eltondale had not mentioned to her having seen Mr. Sedley; but she had not time to dwell on the thought, as the Viscountess immediately renewed her inquiries as to what could have so unusually prolonged Selina's walk; and the beggar woman and her boy recurring to her mind, she forgot all her doubts and past reflections, in the earnestness with which she entered into the description of all the wretchedness, which she "was sure the poor infant must suffer from its unfeeling mother." Lady Eltondale seemed to take uncommon interest in the relation, which she prolonged by apposite questions and remarks of "Poor child!—Of course you gave it something.—No wonder you returned so late.—I suppose you were just come home, just opened this door, as I perceived you.—Dear infant, I should like to have seen it!" And thus continued the conversation, while Mr. Sedley took a turn or two across the room; put into his pocket a letter-case that lay beside his coffee-cup, and regained all his customary self-possession. With his usual manners he resumed his place in Selina's estimation; and the hours flew by unnoticed, as he entertained her with the relation of a thousand ridiculous adventures, all of which had occurred either to himself or "his particular friends," during the space of three weeks, which he called an age, since they parted. And in truth he did not much exaggerate, when he described his regret at their having been so long separated. Like the unguarded moth, he had flitted round the flame till he actually suffered for his folly; for his improved acquaintance with Selina, during the latter part of their stay in London, had so far increased his admiration of her, that what was at first merely a preference chiefly influenced by pecuniary considerations, had now become a passion almost too powerful to be controlled. He had yet however sufficient command over his feelings, to avoid any verbal expression of them; and, while he carefully demonstrated how interesting to him had been all her observations, by delightedly referring to their former conversations, and recapitulating even her most trifling remarks, his present adulation was so delicately conveyed by inferred compliment alone, that, while Selina was gratified by the flattering attention, thus obviously paid her, she felt it would have but compromised her own modesty, had she, by disclaiming praise thus subtilely offered, appropriated to herself an admiration that was only insinuated. And how did Lady Eltondale approve of this? In truth she was not aware of the whole tendency of Mr. Sedley's discourse; a stolen glance or a peculiar emphasis explained his application of a particular sentence to her, who alone he meant should understand him;et au reste, the Viscountess, like a skilful navigator, always floated down a stream she found it impossible to stem.
Selina almost persuaded herself, that every clock and watch in the house was out of order, when Lady Eltondale asserted, that the hour was come for Fazani's raffle, which she had particularly patronized; and as, accompanied by the Viscountess and Sedley, Selina walked under the dark avenue, that led to that fashionable rendezvous, she could not help internally observing, "how much Mr. Sedley's vivacity and good-nature enlivened every society of which he was a member."
Lady Sneerwell.—You are partial, Snake.Snake.—Not in the least; every body will allow, that Lady Sneerwell can do more with a word or a look, than many others with the most laboured detail.
Lady Sneerwell.—You are partial, Snake.
Snake.—Not in the least; every body will allow, that Lady Sneerwell can do more with a word or a look, than many others with the most laboured detail.
School for Scandal.
School for Scandal.
When they entered Fazani's, the raffle was only waiting for the arrival of the Viscountess. The prize was a beautiful work-box, and Fortune, who at that moment seemed to smile with peculiar benignity on Sedley, chose him to be the successful adventurer. As soon as he was declared victor, he immediately brought the treasure towards Lady Eltondale and Selina, and the latter, with pardonable vanity, flattered herself that he intended it as a present for her. But in this she was mistaken. He addressed himself to Lady Eltondale, and in a low tone said, with peculiar emphasis, "Will your ladyship accept this from me as agage d'amitié?" "I take it as a flag of truce," replied she in a similar tone. "Then from henceforward you are my friend," exclaimed Sedley, seizing her hand with unusual vehemence. "At least not your enemy," answered the Viscountess.—"But this is not a proper place to settle our preliminaries."
This conversation was unintelligible to Selina, yet not uninteresting, as she felt a vague consciousness, that it in some way related to herself, and a momentary distrust of both speakers glanced across her mind. But her attention was quickly attracted by Lady Hammersley, who, on perceiving Lady Eltondale, had advanced from amongst the crowd to pay her compliments. The Viscountess was as minute in her inquiries regarding all that could concern Lady Hammersley, as if she had been sincere in her professions of being glad to meet her; and though Lady Hammersley's eyes were fixed on Selina, it was some minutes before she was sufficiently disengaged to accost her; at length she abruptly exclaimed, "Miss Seymour has, to all appearance, profited as much by her residence in London, as I prophesied she would; possibly amongst her other acquirements she may have learned the art of forgetting old acquaintances." Selina's colour rose, and the implied rebuke checking at once the friendly salutation with which she had prepared to address her, she returned her recognizance with an elegant but frigid compliment, worthy a pupil of Lady Eltondale. "Admirable!" retorted Lady Hammersley with a scornful smile: "My penetration is not baffled. I must write to Mrs. Galton, to notice the improvementIalways anticipated." "Why, does your Ladyship know Mrs. Galton?" inquired Selina anxiously; while Lady Eltondale, leaning on Mr. Sedley, took the opportunity of escaping from her "Dear Lady Hammersley." "I do know Mrs. Galton," replied she; "we were together all last winter at Bath; and she, Miss Seymour, was so convinced of your perfection, that she never would believe it was even in Lady Eltondale's power toimproveyou, as I guessed she would, and see she has done." "Dear, dear aunt Mary!" exclaimed Selina, bursting into tears, as she heard this instance of a disinterested partiality, to which she had lately been unused, even though the recital had been made with more of acrimony than of benevolence. Lady Hammersley looked for some moments steadily at Selina, and then continued in her usual cynical tone, "Pray, Miss Seymour, compose yourself; Lady Eltondale will be shocked at my having betrayed you into so gross an impropriety. I had not the slightest idea that the mention of Mrs. Galton would have roused your feelings, and still less that you could have been tempted to exhibit them." Selina felt hurt at the undeserved censure, which both Lady Hammersley's words and manner expressed, and, with a look of dignity, replied, "I am indeed ashamed of betraying them where they can be so little understood;" and took leave of her Ladyship with a proud politeness, which admitted of no reply. Lady Hammersley for some moments looked after Selina, as she moved to a distant part of the room, where Lady Eltondale was waiting for her. "That girl is still worth knowing," thought she; and for once she turned an unprejudiced eye on the lovely form and heavenly countenance of the innocent girl, who had hitherto so undeservedly shared in the contempt and hatred, which her Ladyship had always been accustomed to feel for every thing, that in the remotest degree appertained to Lady Eltondale.
Meantime Selina joined the Viscountess, while "disdain and scorn rode sparkling in her eyes." "Has Lady Hammersley been entertaining you with any sententious aphorisms?" asked Lady Eltondale. "No," replied Selina, laughing. "For once she has been talking on a subject she does not understand." The Viscountess was not sufficiently interested in her Ladyship's harangues to inquire further, and they continued their walk till it was time to separate for dinner.
The amusement allotted for that evening was a public concert, and Lady Eltondale and Selina had acceded to Sedley's earnest entreaty of attending it. He accordingly took post in the outside room, waiting for their arrival, and anxiously inspecting every passing groupe, as the different parties entered, in hopes of recognizing them. But his expectations were disappointed; no Lady Eltondale or Selina made their appearance: he bewildered himself in conjectures; and at last, in a moment of pique, attributing their delay to caprice, he left the rooms before the concert was finished, cursing woman's inconsistency, and his own folly, in ever having suffered himself to be interested about any. This sage reflection was however chased long before morning, not only by the recollection of Selina's manifold charms, but of his own manifold creditors; and at an early hour he repaired to the well, where he and Lady Eltondale had agreed to meet, in order to finish a conversation neither was particularly anxious Selina should witness.
But Lady Eltondale was not to be found; and when the hour for the general dispersion of the company arrived without his seeing her, he lost patience, and hastened to her house to inquire the cause of her protracted absence.
But there, to his utmost consternation, he learned that an express had arrived, just as the ladies were preparing to go to the rooms the night before, to inform the Viscountess, that Lord Eltondale had suddenly expired at Eltondale, after having partaken of a turtle feast with more enjoyment, and even less restraint, than ordinary. Of course neither Selina nor Lady Eltondale was visible, and Sedley returned home agitated by a thousand conjectures and emotions.
It was not to be expected, that Lady Eltondale would deeply lament the death of a husband, who, notwithstanding his uniform indulgence to her, had never possessed either her esteem or affection; but nevertheless Selina could not help being shocked at the total apathy and ingratitude she displayed; as without even assuming a grief, which it would have been almost more a virtue to dissemble, than thus openly to contemn, she only thought of, only lamented, the change of her circumstances the event would inevitably produce. Selina listened in astonishment to the calm retrospection of past extravagance, and the despairing anticipation of future poverty, in which she indulged even in those first moments of widowhood; and disdaining to offer consolation to the only sorrows she could hear unmoved, at an early hour retired to her own room.
There far, far different reflections agitated her bosom. There is a certain sympathy in misfortune, which, touching a chord that has once jarred, finds an echo in our own breast;
"Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows,Which show like grief itself."
"Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows,Which show like grief itself."
Thus the sudden dissolution of Lord Eltondale recalled to Selina's mind all the circumstances of her father's death; and though neither in her judgment nor affection they could ever have been compared, yet the last sad scene of mortality blended her recollections of both, and with unrestrained tears she gave way to all the poignancy of regret, in the solitude of her chamber, which the freezing insensibility of Lady Eltondale would have repressed, in the presence of her who should have been the greatest mourner.
In the morning her swollen eyes and pallid cheeks bore testimony to her sleepless night; and as from Lady Eltondale she expected reproof rather than sympathy, she was not sorry to receive a message, stating that her Ladyship wished to breakfast alone, as she was engaged in writing letters.
Selina, lost in reflection, unconsciously prolonged her solitary and almost untasted meal, till she was roused by the abrupt entrance of Lady Hammersley, who, profiting by her plea of relationship, had come to inquire all the particulars of the Viscount's death. Though Selina now felt a degree of repugnance to Lady Hammersley, which her almost impertinent remarks had provoked, yet she could not with propriety refuse the details she demanded; and she accordingly answered her numerous questions with as much brevity as politeness permitted. But her auditor seemed to attend more to her countenance than to her words, and at last abruptly exclaimed, "I certainly did not expect to see so much real sorrow in this house of mourning; you are a good girl, I believe, after all; and I like you for having at leastsomefeeling left." Though Selina was always grateful for advice, and even reproof, dictated by affection, yet she did not feel, that Lady Hammersley was in any way authorized to offer her either; and therefore she replied, with an air ofhauteur, which the recollection of her observations the day before increased, "My acquaintance with your Ladyship has been so short, that neither my feelings nor character can be known to you: have you any commands, madam, to Lady Eltondale?" and rising as she spoke, she prepared to quit the room. But Lady Hammersley, taking hold of her hand, exclaimed, "What, proud too! well, I like you the more for it; come, sit down, you and I must be better acquainted. For once I am inclined to think I have been mistaken. When first I saw you at Eltondale," continued she, in a tone of unusual kindness, "I was interested by your personal appearance; but above all, by your simplicity of character: but as I knew these were the two precise points, which must infallibly be most changed by your residence with Lady Eltondale, I looked upon you only as a fine piece of plaster of Paris, which she would probably mould to external perfection, but leave all hollow within. I should therefore (forgive my frankness, Miss Seymour), most likely, never have thought of you again, had I not met Mrs. Galton; who spoke of you in such terms, that I own I was curious to learn whether my prognostics were verified or not. Circumstances have accelerated my knowledge of you; and since I find, at least to all appearance, that Lady Eltondale's arts have not entirely spoiled your character, I am anxious that her schemes should not militate against your happiness." "Schemes! Lady Hammersley, I am at a loss to understand you." "Her favourite scheme," returned her Ladyship, "is this,—she intends you should marry her step-son Frederick Elton, now Lord Eltondale; and her visit to Deane Hall, which you may remember this time twelvemonth, was to procure your father's consent to the match, in which she succeeded." "My father's consent!" exclaimed the agitated girl. "But Mr. Elton and I are unacquainted; we have never even seen each other. You must be mistaken, my dear madam." "No, there is no mistake; both your late uncle and Mrs. Galton were my authorities." "And do you say my father gave his consent?" "I do say so: and I also know, that Frederick is now on his return to England, intending to propose for you. Come, my dear, do not be so agitated: he is one of the finest young men of the day: his character amiable, and his manners attractive; so perhaps you cannot do better than make choice of him, provided your affections are not otherwise engaged." A pause of some minutes ensued. Lady Hammersley then continued: "But in telling you Lady Eltondale's scheme, it is fit I should explain her motive; for be assured, Miss Seymour, no action of hers can ever be disinterested. The fact is, she has long known, that the Eltondale estates are as much encumbered as the entail permits them to be; and in securing your property for Frederick, she flatters herself she has secured an increased jointure for herself." Selina shuddered, but could make no reply. And Lady Hammersley rising, said, "I have now, my dear Miss Seymour, told you all I know: you may think me an impertinent old woman, but, be assured, I only wished to be a kind one. God bless you! perhaps we may never meet again; for I suppose Lady Eltondale will leave this place immediately. But don't forget the key I have given you to her character; and believe me it is not a false one." So saying, she affectionately kissed Selina, who took leave of her with a gratitude and cordiality, she would a few hours before have believed it scarcely possible she could ever have experienced for Lady Hammersley.
It may be supposed this conversation made a deep impression on her mind; and one of the most painful feelings it excited was the insight it gave her into Lady Eltondale's selfish and dissembling character, confirmed as it was by her own previous observations. But even these feelings had not long power to withdraw her attention from that part of Lady Hammersley's communication which related to Frederick, and which was also corroborated by her recollection of several remarks and casual speeches of Lady Eltondale, which, at the time they were made, had seemed to her accidental and undesigned, but each of which, on retrospection, appeared "squared and fitted to its use." Nor did the circumstance of her deceased father having given his consent to the match serve, as with some romantic ladies it might have done, to determine her against it; on the contrary, it rather served to prejudice her in its favour; and a long train of reflections was concluded in her own mind by Lady Hammersley's observation, "So perhaps you cannot do better, provided your affections are not otherwise engaged."
Why she, even she—Oh! Heav'ns! a beast, that wants discourse of reason,Would have mourn'd longer.Hamlet.
Why she, even she—Oh! Heav'ns! a beast, that wants discourse of reason,Would have mourn'd longer.
Hamlet.
Selina's meditations were disturbed by a summons to Lady Eltondale's dressing-room, on a subject of no less importance than the choice of mourning: a mixed sentiment of contempt and indignation took possession of her mind, as she saw every feeling, that should have been called forth in that of the recent loss, absorbed in the more momentous reflections suggested by the comparative merits of the bombasins. But when the bevy of milliners left the room, and Lady Eltondale, hiding her face with her handkerchief, gave way to an outrageous burst of grief, Selina condemned herself for her premature judgment. "That is fortitude, which I have cruelly termed insensibility," thought she; and softened by her tears, the first she had ever seen her shed, she kindly took her hand, and addressed her in terms of condolence. But Lady Eltondale interrupting her in a tone, which from contending passions almost approached a scream: "Spare me, spare me," exclaimed she, "I can bear any thing butpity. Good God! is it come to this! am I, the envied, flattered Lady Eltondale, born to bepitied?" Then turning to Selina, with a countenance distorted with rage, and her figure distended into more than common loftiness, "You mistake me, Miss Seymour," she continued; "though that man of sloth, that dormouse, Lord Eltondale, has left me almost pennyless; though all my entreaties, all my reasons, could never rouse him from his indolence, to make him active for or against ministers, either of which would have procured me a pension; yet do not fancy I am yet to be despised. My spirit is independent, be my circumstances what they may, and they may still be bettered."
Selina was thunderstruck at this address. She could scarcely recognise the calm, dignified Lady Eltondale, in the being convulsed with rage, that writhed beneath her steady gaze. In the contortion of uncontrolled passion, the veil had dropped, and the delusion vanished. A silence of a few moments ensued, and both the ladies recovered themselves; Selina to explain the condolences she had meant to offer as kindnesses, and Lady Eltondale to receive them with that degree of gratitude, she timely recollected it was most prudent to profess. And now,
"Brief as the lightning in the collied night,That in a spleen unfolds both Heav'n and earth,"
"Brief as the lightning in the collied night,That in a spleen unfolds both Heav'n and earth,"
did the Viscountess reassume all her usual calmness, and more than her usual charms. Stretching out one white hand towards Selina, whilst she pressed the other on her forehead, "Forgive me, my love," exclaimed she, "this sudden misfortune has quite overpowered me. But you, Selina, I know will bear with me; you will not forsake me."
Selina gave her every assurance, that duty and compassion, if not affection, could suggest; and Lady Eltondale, with that feverish restlessness of mind, which was no less distinguishable in her, than the calm self-possession of her external deportment, immediately proceeded to arrange the plans for her future life. "We will leave this directly," said she, "as I am anxious to return to Eltondale as soon as possible, after the funeral of my poor dear Lord is over. I want to arrange my papers, and my jewels, and a thousand little trifles that are my own property, and may be useful to me hereafter; and then we can be decided by Lord Eltondale's answer to the letters I have written to him, whether to await his return at Eltondale, or to spend the intervening time at Brighton." "Or suppose, my dear Lady Eltondale, we return to Deane, I shall be so delighted——" "Impossible, my love," interrupted the Viscountess; "in my present weak spirits such a retirement would kill me." But this selfish, unfeeling woman was yet to learn by deprivation the value of those blessings she had hitherto disregarded, and of that kindness she had only despised. Before she could decide at which of the gay watering places it would be most advisable for her to pass the first months of mourning, Lord Eltondale's steward arrived, in the utmost consternation, with the agonizing intelligence, that the Viscount's creditors had seized on all his personal property, to pay some part of the debts her extravagance had so largely contributed to contract. They had possessed themselves both of the house at Eltondale and in Portman Square; and mercilessly stripped them of all they could lay claim to of their splendid furniture, not even sparing her Ladyship's "jewels, and the thousand little trifles," which she had determined to appropriate to herself. Bitterly did she now inveigh against the memory of him, whose inconsiderate compliance with all her unreasonable demands had principally occasioned the distress of which she so unfeelingly complained. At last, having exhausted her passion in invective, she next employed herself in suggesting and debating on a variety of schemes for her immediate residence: and at length being convinced, that a few months of the very retirement at Deane, which she had at first so indignantly rejected, was the most advantageous measure she could now adopt, she endeavoured to make a virtue of necessity, and accepted Selina's proposition in such a manner, as would have convinced a stranger, that her sole reason for doing so was compliance with Selina's wishes.
The delighted girl did not, however, pause to investigate the motives of the Viscountess's assent to her plan. With a little of the vivacity, which once had marked her every impression, did she now anticipate with fond delight her return to those beloved scenes of her happy infancy. Her heart beat high as in swiftest thought she pictured to herself being once more pressed to the maternal bosom of Mrs. Galton, and once more enjoying the calm unembittered pleasures of her earlier years. Overcome by the various emotions these thoughts gave birth to, she retired to her own room, to regain composure, and to write to persuade her dearest aunt to meet her there.
But an unforeseen difficulty arose to their quitting Cheltenham. Lady Eltondale, with her usual inconsiderate extravagance, had run into debt with almost every shopkeeper in the town; and the tradesmen, from the moment her departure was announced, sent in their demands with what she was pleased to call impertinent importunity. Her own resources had been long exhausted; and perhaps of all her mortifications, none was to her so severe as being under the necessity of applying to Selina for pecuniary assistance. But notwithstanding Selina's accession of fortune, when she lost her habits of early economy, she with them lost the power of being generous. The last letter she had received from her banker had informed her, that her account was so much overdrawn, he could no longer accept her frequent drafts: and when she was obliged to refuse Lady Eltondale's request for money, she received a practical lesson on the folly of extravagance, which was more effectual than any precepts could have been. But Lady Eltondale was not to be repulsed by trifling difficulties; her brain, ever fruitful in expedients, suggested the possibility of Selina anticipating her rents, by drawing a bill on her agent in Yorkshire. Impatient of delay, and dreading the demands which her other numerous creditors in London and elsewhere might bring forward against her, she prevailed on Selina to go the next day to Mr. ——'s bank to negotiate the transaction in person, and fixed to leave Cheltenham as soon as possible afterwards.
Accordingly, very early the following morning, she proceeded to obey Lady Eltondale's directions, having desired the steward, who professed to be well versed in such business, to meet her at the bank, in order to explain all that was necessary for her to do: she however needed no introduction, the wealth of the great Yorkshire heiress was too well known to require any confirmation; and on signing a paper which she scarcely looked at, she joyfully received the sum she desired, without stopping to calculate at what price the banker and the steward had agreed she was to purchase the accommodation.
Elated by her success, she sent the money to Lady Eltondale by the steward, while she proceeded to take a farewell ramble amongst her favourite walks, and to indulge in their retirement the pleasing reveries the idea of returning to Deane Hall had excited. Her solitude however was soon interrupted: Sedley, who for the last three days had with restless anxiety hovered round her door, had followed her unseen, and now hastily overtook her. On first seeing him she was half tempted to return, but he, perceiving her intention, half seriously and half carelessly, put her arm within his, and led her forward. At first he paid her the common compliments of condolence; but when, in answer to his inquiries, she told him she and Lady Eltondale were to leave Cheltenham that day, his surprise and disappointment overcame all his resolutions, and with a vehemence of manner and expression, that almost terrified Selina, he declared his passion in the strongest terms. So little had Selina been accustomed to think of him as her lover, that at first she considered his address merely as an effusion of gallantry, and as such returned it with carelessbadinage. But his renewed protestations convincing her he was in earnest, her trepidation increased, nor would she probably soon have recovered her composure, had she not perceived that he misconstrued her prolonged silence. As soon therefore as he would permit her, she interrupted him, by politely thanking him for his good opinion of her: "But," continued she, "it distresses me even more than it flatters me: I cannot encourage a partiality I feel I do not return." With an agitated countenance, and looks almost of menace, he now inquired who was the favoured mortal she preferred. "It is not that I prefer another," replied she, "but I do not sufficiently prefer you. I think the only way I can repay your kindness is by treating you with perfect frankness. Do not therefore think me harsh when I say, that though I certainly prefer your society more than that of most others, and though I prize your friendship most highly, I by no means feel for you that exclusive partiality, of which I know my heart is capable; and without which, in my opinion, there can be no happiness in married life." "But may not time and assiduity win your affections, dear, dearest Selina; let me still hope." And then, with all the eloquence he was master of, did he implore her to consider him still as her friend; and to permit him in that character to enjoy her society, and at least endeavour to gain her love.
But the delicacy of Selina's mind shrunk from the idea of encouraging an attachment she never meant to return; and scorning the little arts by which so many women gratify their own vanity, at the expense of those feelings which they seem to soothe, she steadily refused to give him any ground for expecting her to change her present sentiments: for within the last few days she had "communed with her own heart," and understood it better than she had ever done before. However her refusal though firm was gentle; and when Sedley parted from her at Lady Eltondale's door, the tempered smile that played on her lip, and the tear that gemm'd her eye, spoke so much of female softness and benevolence, that he departed more enamoured than ever; and, hastening home, shut himself up in his chamber, to indulge in a variety of schemes and reflections, which all concluded by his determining never to relinquish her pursuit, and by a natural consequence persuading himself his case was not yet desperate:
"None without hope e'er lov'd the brightest fair,But love will hope where reason would despair."
"None without hope e'er lov'd the brightest fair,But love will hope where reason would despair."
When Selina entered the drawing room, she found Lady Eltondale too much engrossed by her preparations for departure, to notice her protracted absence and agitated appearance. And when a few hours afterwards Selina actually found herself seated in the carriage, which was to convey her to her own home, her thoughts became so entirely occupied by painfully pleasing retrospection connected with it, that for a time all others faded from her mind. Orders had been dispatched for its being prepared for their arrival. And as they travelled but slowly, sufficient time was afforded for their execution. For the last few miles Selina preserved an uninterrupted silence, her whole attention being occupied in endeavouring to recognize every well known object; and as each succeeding tree, and cottage, and spire, met her view, a sentiment of pleasure, amounting almost to agony, oppressed her. At last, when the carriage turned up the long avenue, her feelings could no longer be repressed. She sobbed aloud, and concealed her face in her handkerchief, which she did not remove till she found herself pressed to the palpitating heart of Mrs. Galton, who having received Selina's letter when on a visit in Lancashire, had succeeded in anticipating her arrival by a few hours.
Thou yet shalt know how sweet, how dear,To gaze on beauty's glistening eye,To ask and pause in hope and fear,Till she reply.Montgomery.
Thou yet shalt know how sweet, how dear,To gaze on beauty's glistening eye,To ask and pause in hope and fear,Till she reply.
Montgomery.
Immediately after the departure of Lady Eltondale and Selina from Cheltenham, Sedley had also quitted it, as he could not bear to remain in a place, which had been to him the scene of his fondest hopes—his bitterest disappointment. In fact his having met Miss Seymour there was by no means the effect of accident. When she and the Viscountess had left London in June, he had found such a loss in her society, especially in those particular hours, which he had of late been accustomed to pass in his daily visits to Portman Square, that life appeared a blank, and his regrets for her absence first taught him the extent of his regard. Not however that his mind, tainted as it was by so many of the fashionable follies, if not vices of the day, was capable of truly comprehending all the chaste and simple beauties of hers. His admiration was confined to her personal charms; and though, had she been fated to move in a humbler sphere, he would perhaps have sought her as a substitute for the pretty little opera dancer, that was now under hisprotection, as it is elegantly termed; yet with all Selina's loveliness, his aversion to matrimony would scarcely have been subdued by any less powerful motives than those suggested by her riches. For, like all spendthrifts, Sedley was avaricious; and these united interests, confirmed by habits of association, and increased by vanity, led him by degrees to feel for her an attachment, of which at first he could scarcely have supposed his heart to have been susceptible. Having once convinced himself, that the possession of Miss Seymour's hand and fortune would contribute to his own individual happiness, (for of hers he did not stop to think,) his next object was to determine how to procure it; nor did he consider her being the destined wife of his friend as any impediment to the accomplishment of his own wishes. He, however, was well aware, that it was of the utmost consequence to him to obtain the countenance and support of the Viscountess; and as he possessed sufficient penetration to discover the master passion of her soul, he took his measures accordingly. Soon after she went to Cheltenham he wrote her a letter, in which he so far betrayed the confidence Frederick Elton had reposed in him, as to communicate to her all he knew of his attachment to the fair Adelina at the villa Marinella; and concluded by proposing, in the most guarded and delicatetermsto her Ladyship, that she should befriend him instead of Elton—offering, if she would procure for him Selina's hand, either on the day of their marriage to give her a large sum of money, or to settle an annuity on her for the remainder of her life.
The information thus conveyed to Lady Eltondale of Mr. Elton's attachment to a foreigner did not very much surprise her. She suspected that the reluctance he had expressed about two years before, to accept an honourable and lucrative employment in the diplomatical line, which his father had procured for him, and which had obliged him to leave Catania to reside in Paris—his subsequent return thither, and his protracted stay on the continent, had all proceeded from some such motive.
But on the other hand Mr. Elton had, in his letter to his father, stated explicitly, "that he was not only willing, but anxious, to make every endeavour to gain Miss Seymour's affections, and bestow his own on her; convinced, on mature deliberation, that such an attachment would effectually conduce to his happiness, by filling that void in his heart, which so much militated against it." And as he was expected to return very shortly to England, she hesitated to accept Mr. Sedley's offer, although it was a temptation she could scarcely resist. The result, therefore, of her deliberations was, that she would remain neuter; and whichever of the candidates Selina's unbiassed judgment made choice of, she would endeavour to persuade owed their happiness to her influence. She therefore wrote an equivocal answer to Mr. Sedley, which he construed of course in the sense most favourable to his wishes, and hastened to Cheltenham, where he used all his rhetoric to secure her friendship; and she, with many a subtle argument, endeavoured to persuade him not to propose for Selina till after Frederick's arrival; and as he was by no means confident of the place he held in Miss Seymour's estimation, he probably would have postponed his declaration till time had more matured the regard he flattered himself she felt for him, had he not been irresistibly impelled by circumstances, as has been before related. Her refusal, however, did not entirely extinguish his hopes, although it changed his plans; and as the public prints had, about a fortnight before Lord Eltondale's death, given notice of Mr. Elton's departure from Paris, on his return to England, Sedley determined to repair to London immediately, for the purpose of meeting him, as he knew business would require his presence there. Nor was he disappointed; in about three weeks Lord Eltondale arrived; and Sedley sedulously sought to renew their intimacy, as much then from interested motives, as he had once done from inclination and preference. But though these two young men associated as much as they had been accustomed previous to Lord Eltondale's residence abroad, little remained of their original friendship, except its familiarity of intercourse, which ahabitof intimacy will long preserve. Yet Frederick was scarcely conscious of this aberration of regard, which was, on the part of Sedley, produced by a rivalship Lord Eltondale was unsuspicious of; and on his own was principally owing to the gradual change, that had taken place in their characters. Sedley, by the influence of dissipated companions, had converted his natural vivacity of spirits into levity of principle. Lord Eltondale, by the peculiar circumstances which had led him to self-communion, study, and reflection, had turned the energies of his nature to pursuits worthy of the powers of his mind, and of the rank he was by nature and fortune destined to hold amongst the sons, which England proudly boasts as truly noble.
Lord Eltondale had written to the Viscountess, that it was his intention to pay his compliments to her and Miss Seymour immediately on his arrival in England; but he, from one day to another, sought excuses for delaying this visit to Deane Hall; and Sedley was not unwilling to assist in the search, for he still hoped to gain by delay. When he had first met Frederick, he had inquired, with as much indifference as he could assume, whether there was any foundation in the newspaper report of his marriage with Miss Seymour; to which his Lordship replied, in a peremptory tone, "Yes, if she will have me;" and immediately changed the conversation in such a manner, that Sedley had not again the courage to renew it. However, at last his Lordship fixed the day for the commencement of his journey to Yorkshire, and the evening before he as usual spent in his friend's society. They were conversing of far different matters, when Sedley abruptly said, in a tone of marked pique, "Well, Eltondale, so you have at last determined to do Miss Seymour the honour of proposing for her. Upon my soul, a great condescension! Notwithstanding your damned lecturing letters, I knew you would forget your 'charming Sicilian maid, fairer than Proserpine,' and all that pack of metaphysical stuff you used to write to me. I knew well enough from the first it was only an ideal Laura you fancied yourself Petrarch to; and if, while you were dreaming of her, you had lost the incomparableheiressyour designing step-mother intended for you, it would only have been what you deserved." "For Heaven's sake, Sedley, what do you mean?" said Lord Eltondale, colouring deeply. "Is the incomparableheiressthe Laura of your dreams?" "No, no, my Lord," answered Sedley, with a composure produced alike by envy and mortification, "I leave it toyouto play the part of sleeper awakened—I never lost my senses for anyAdelina." "Sedley!" replied Lord Eltondale, with the serious energy of deep feeling, "if any spark of our former friendship remains in your bosom, I conjure you never to mention that name again. I can never forgether, but she refusedme." "Refused you!" exclaimed Sedley, in a tone of unfeigned surprise; "well, no doubt your pride has cured your love; but upon my soul I almost pity you; for when a man is once fascinated by a pretty woman, it is devilish hard to get out of her toils." "So far from my pride being my cure, her refusal raised my love to a pitch that made my former attachment seem cold in comparison. You may smile, Sedley, but if you have a heart to be moved, it must be touched when I tell you of her noble conduct on that occasion. I believe I told you of my intention of proposing myself to her; but I never could summon fortitude to acquaint you with the result. I had perceived a marked change in her manner to me some time before I wrote you the last letter concerning her; but I attributed it entirely to her father's influence, as I had not come to a direct explanation, and therefore took an opportunity of demanding an interview for that purpose, when I knew him to be absent.
"When she entered the room where I was waiting in breathless expectation of her arrival, she was enveloped in the most icy coldness of manner, which, however, I was not dismayed by, but poured forth my love with all the ardour I felt. She changed colour many times, and was silent for a few moments; but when she did speak, rejected my addresses with such dignified politeness, and with so much calm self-possession, that, mortified to the very soul, I, without reply or remonstrance, walked out of the house. That I might hide my wounded feelings from every eye, I struck into a private path which led through a flower-garden Adelina's sitting-room opened into. I instinctively turned to look in, when I beheld her kneeling, evidently in the act of prayer, her eyes streaming with tears. To see her weep, and retain self-control or resentment, was impossible. I was at her side in an instant;—she started up, and endeavoured to fly, but I forcibly detained her; and as the expression of her countenance was not to be misunderstood as to the cause of her grief, I implored her not to destroy our happiness by harbouring any false impressions of me or my family; entreated her to tell me the impediments to our union, that if it were possible, by any exertion of mine, to do them away, they might cease to exist. She turned aside her head to hide the gushing tears, and in a faltering voice desired me to leave her.—'Leave me,' said she, 'only for a few moments, that I may recover composure to tell you all.'
"I respected her feelings sufficiently to remain in the garden till she made a sign to me to return.
"When I entered, grief, in her calmest attitude, was seated on her brow. No tear dimmed the majesty of her commanding eye, but a convulsive smile sometimes passed over her pallid lip. She told me that her father, though a German Baron, was a British subject by birth, but that some unfortunate circumstances induced him to condemn himself to perpetual exile from his native land; that she could not desert her duties by leaving him, in the evening of his days, to sad solitude in a foreign country; nor would she ever consent to obscure the morning of my life by suffering me, if I were so inclined, to quit my country, and leave my high calling unfulfilled, to waste my hours at her side in unavailing regret for my lost character: and addressing me with the utmost solemnity, said in conclusion, 'Frederick, if you really love me, as I think you do; if you are the noble being I believe you to be—you will not, after this meeting, try my feelings by any further solicitation. My resolution is unalterable—do not deprive me of my self-esteem, by making me feel the sacrifice I make to filial duty too painful.'
"I then told her, if she would promise to be mine when these obstacles to our union were at an end, I would wait in joyful thankfulness any length of time.
"'No, no,' said she, 'I could not, in justice to you, enter into such an engagement. Our affections are involuntary—youcannotanswer for the continuance of your attachment. Time, absence, your country, your family, will estrange your heart fromme; and honour alone would continue to bind you to me when love had fled. I should, when too late for recall, be doomed to inconsolable misery, by finding your sense of duty had destroyed your happiness. As for myself, I could not live under such a load of hopes and fears. No, Frederick, from this day I will endeavour to destroy every memento of our having ever met. Hope must be completely eradicated.' Irritated by the misery of my mind, I had theinhumanityto upbraid her in words that I would now give worlds to recall, with being cold and unfeeling. 'Would to Heaven I were!' exclaimed she, and abruptly leaving the room, forbid my following her.—I never saw her afterwards."
Here Lord Eltondale started up, and paced the room in an agony of feeling difficult to describe. Even Sedley was moved with compassion. "Poor fellow!" said he, in a suppressed tone, "And did you make no further attempt to change her resolution?" "I wrote several letters from Catania, and returned from Paris after my second visit there to see her once more, but the villa was deserted—Baron Wildenheim and his daughter had gone no one knew whither."
"Wildenheim!" exclaimed Sedley, "Good God, is it possible!—Wildenheim did you say?" Frederick repeated this name, and he, on hearing it a second time, danced about the room like a madman. "Sedley, are you absolutely and entirely insane?" exclaimed his friend, indignant at the levity of his behaviour—"Beware!—by Heavens, you trifle too much with my feelings!" "Well, you shall judge of the justice of my conjectures; but if you give me the smallest interruption, I will leave you in the state of blessed ignorance you at present enjoy," replied Sedley, wringing his hand rather than shaking it. "First, then, to describe your charmer, for I spent a month in the house with her last autumn.Imprimis—her mind I know nothing about; she was so damned shy, sitting alone all morning writing amatory odes to your Lordship I suppose—there now, if you interrupt me I have done."
Here Sedley made a short pause. He felt that all was at stake: the effects of a few minutes' conversation might decide his fate for life. He hastily revolved in his mind Lord Eltondale's Sicilian letters, which he had lately read for the base purpose of divulging their contents to the Viscountess, and calling to mind the points on which Frederick's admiration had been founded, endeavoured to paint Miss Wildenheim's charms in those terms which he judged most likely to raise his friend's love and regrets to theiracmé, and thus for ever defeat Lady Eltondale's schemes for uniting him to Selina. In reply to Frederick's entreaties to proceed, he continued with affected carelessness, "I can scarcely give you a more minute description of her person than of her mind. Her beauty is not to be compared to ——" (Miss Seymour's, he would have said with well acted indifference, had he not timely recollected her name was a "word of fear," not only to himself but his auditor)—"that of some of our reigning belles; but 'the charm of Celia altogether' is so captivating, sotouching, that no one ever thought ofbeautyin her presence; nor is admiration the sentiment she excites, that, like her attractions, can only be felt, not described. Come, don't be jealous; her indifference to me, and every other man she associated with, was too marked to encourage that love it would have been impossible not to have felt but for this coldness. Her form and motions were so graceful, that my attention was too completely engrossed by their exquisite elegance to observe her stature; nor was I more at liberty to remark theminutiæof her features, rivetted as I was by the enchanting expression of her countenance, where softness is ennobled by dignity, and animated by intellect.
"In short, I no longer wonder at what I once termed infatuation, if 'la bella Adelina' be (as I verily believe she is) the lovely Adelaide Wildenheim——" "Where is she, for God's sake where is she?" "Why, your Venus is at this moment—not rising from the sea, but—enjoying the delights of a mud bath in a bog in Ireland. I will furnish you with proper directions to find her. I advise you to lose no time; I assure you, you have a dangerous rival in the son of the lady she resides with;—a year may have made a great change in her sentiments though." Here a severe and long continued fit of coughing saved Sedley from betraying the laughter he was almost convulsed by, at the thought of the rival he had terrified Lord Eltondale with, in the person of Mr. Webberly. "Better, my dear fellow, better," said he at last, in answer to Frederick's earnest concern on his behalf: "though, to continue my speech, her aversion even to him was so decided, I have no doubt her constancy to you would stand a much greater probation." At first Lord Eltondale's joy was too great for him to believe all this was not a dream; and he questioned Sedley over and over again as to every particular regarding Miss Wildenheim. The latter had profited considerably by the lessons he had received during his intercourse with the Viscountess, in the science of insinuation andfinesse, and now therefore artfully related every circumstance likely to strengthen his friend's passion for the "divine Adelaide;" but perceiving at last from Frederick's countenance that he was in danger of over-acting his part, he abruptly discontinued atiradeon her perfections, by exclaiming, "All this comes of romancing, Eltondale; if you could have condescended to have designated your dearly beloved by any more specific term than 'the fair Adelina,' thisquid pro quowould never have occurred.—Why the devil did you never tell me she was plain Adelaide Wildenheim?" "I had very strong reasons for my silence as to her surname. Though I never knew a man more highly endowed in mind than Baron Wildenheim, or whose manners bore the stamp of more refined elegance, more impressive dignity, yet there was something extremely mysterious in the manner in which he sometimes avoided, sometimes sought, conversation on English affairs; in a moment he would interrupt a discussion he had seemed much interested in, with a perturbation that excited unfavourable suspicions, which were confirmed in my mind by a variety of minute circumstances.—None made a stronger impression than the following occurrence:—I one evening unexpectedly met him and Adelina walking through a beautiful grove in the neighbourhood of their villa. They were conversing earnestly, and, to my astonishment, in English—he with that pure accent a native only can possess, which was forcibly contrasted by the pronunciation of his daughter. I claimed him as my countryman, and rallied her for concealing her knowledge of my native language. She, evidently embarrassed, blushed deeply, (how beautiful she looked!) whilst the Baron, with a haughty austerity, only answered my compliment by a profound bow; and, after some trifling remark, pointedly addressed to me inFrench, alleged the lateness of the hour for taking their leave, and expressed a flattering wish to see me the following morning; thus politely giving me to understand my presence was not at that moment particularly agreeable. This confirmed my former surmise, that in the revolutionary period he had been engaged in some dark affair inimical to the interests of Great Britain, and that Baron Wildenheim was merely anom de guerre, to cover theincognitohe found it expedient to assume; therefore I purposely avoided mentioning it to you. Now as for Adelina—that is the Italian diminutive of Adelaide, which her father always called her; it was the first I heard her addressed by; it is one, in short, that has a charm in my ear, which none who has not loved,approvedas I do, can conceive." "It is strange enough, Eltondale," remarked Sedley; "but you and Miss Wildenheim must have been in Paris at the same time; for she related to me one day a whimsical occurrence, which took place in the Chamber of Deputies, that one of your letters informed me you had also witnessed." "Is it possible!" exclaimed Frederick, "how unfortunate we did not meet! I now recollect, I once thought I saw her at theThéâtre François; if so, she had contrived to forget me in a great hurry; for though it was but three months after a parting that was almost death to me, she was looking as gay and as happy as possible." Here Sedley made an involuntary grimace, internally exclaiming, "The devil she did! That agrees but badly with theIl penserosoI have described with such effect." "Baron Wildenheim," continued Lord Eltondale, "I certainly did see, but could not ascertain whether the lady who was with him was Adelina or not; for when I approached near enough to put the matter out of doubt, either by accident or design, she threw a large shawl over her, so as effectually to conceal her figure from my sight; and before I could push through the crowd to speak to them, they had left the theatre. However I trust, thanks to you, my dear friend, we shall soon meet; and if her heart is still mine, what happiness!—Gracious Heaven! Miss Seymour!"—and the recollection of his situation regarding Selina glanced through his mind, turning all the past to pain—"I must not, dare not, think of her now." "And why not?" replied Sedley, with an agitation little inferior to his own, "You are not irrevocably engaged to Miss Seymour, Eltondale?" "I am as much as a man of honour can be, who has not received the lady's own consent from her own mouth. But my poor father got Sir Henry Seymour's consent to our marriage above a year ago—read those two letters, Sedley, the last I received from Lady Eltondale immediately after my father's death. You will see by the tenor of it, that she considers the business as concluded; and though she does not positively tell me Miss Seymour's opinion, she distinctly says she has no doubt of our mutual happiness!"
The first of these letters gave Sedley the most unequivocal proofs of Lady Eltondale's double-dealing, in speaking of Selina to Frederick as decidedly his future wife, at the very moment when she seemed to favour his own pretensions. He dashed the letters, one after the other, on the table, with a violence that made it resound, and internally imprecated "the treachery, the artifice, of this damned dissembling woman!"
A sense of the moral rectitude, which should guide the conduct ofothers, grows surprisingly acute, even in the breast of the most worthless, when they themselves begin to suffer from the effects of dissimulation in their associates. At that moment Sedley could have demonstrated sincerity to be "the first of virtues"—in theory at least—deferring thepracticeof it to a more convenient season.
For some time both these young men remained absorbed in their own reflections; till at last Sedley endeavoured to persuade Lord Eltondale, that it was not incumbent on him to pay his addresses to Miss Seymour: but neither the sophistry of his friend, nor still more the pleadings of his own unconquered passion, could make him swerve from the rectitude of his principles. He knew that even in his very last letter to his stepmother, he had mentioned his intention of proposing for Selina, and therefore, under all the circumstances considering himself as pledged to do so, he endeavoured to find solace in what would once have been theacméof misery—a belief that Adelaide no longer cherished any regard for him.
On the other hand Sedley, passing at once from hope to despair, conceived it impossible Selina could refuse an offer so unexceptionable; and attributing her indifference to himself to her ambitious views, internally vowed revenge on both. The rival friends separated with feelings, which resembled only in their poignancy and defiance of control; and the next morning Lord Eltondale left London, pursuing, with agitated haste, his journey to Deane Hall.