Aos homens todosLhes deu um livro so' a natureza,O proprio coração.CATÂO.
Nature hath given to all men one same book,'Tis their own heart.E se voi stanchi fossi d' ascoltareSi vi potrete riposar in tanto.ZINABI.
"I don't know when I have been so vexed," said Harriet, who was sitting with Margaret, while the ladies went up to dress. "I'm sure you will never be friends with me after this contretemps."
"Indeed I shall," said Margaret. "You could not help it, I know; and it is no such great misfortune after all."
Harriet drew the fire together, rang forcoffee, and pushed over a footstool to Margaret.
"We will try to make ourselves comfortable," said she. "I have told the women to come in and show you their dresses before they start. Then you shall have some strong coffee, and then to bed."
"I wish," said Margaret hesitating, "I wish you would tell me your history, as you promised."
"That is very sly," said Harriet laughing, "because I cannot refuse you anything under the circumstances. But I will do it, and the more readily, as I have not much to tell, so drink your coffee, and listen. Once upon a time—"
"Oh, but a real history if you please!" said Margaret.
"This is real," said Harriet, laughing.—"Must I not begin at the beginning? Well, if you like it,tout court. I am the youngest of the family. Mamma doats on me—Papa likes me very well. Charles, the one you have seen, is the eldest—hewears his glass in his eye—I do not think he has any other peculiarity. Then comes Lucy, she is a good girl, and I am very fond of her. I could tell you a secret that would a little surprise you; that is, if you have observed any of the bye-play of the last day or two."
"Oh, do!" said Margaret. "I really will keep it."
"I believe you!" said Harriet. "It shall come in due course. My second brother, Evan, is just called to the bar. He has a good deal of character, and is therefore my favourite. I should rather like you to see Evan. Alfred, the youngest son, is in the army; and there is the outline of a Baronet's family."
"It is very amusing," said Margaret. "I like better to hear real stories than to read them."
"For me," said Harriet. "I was very sickly as a child, and I spent most of my time with an uncle, who is very fond of me, and who lives in a romantic part of thecountry, and keeps up an old manor-house in the old English style. My uncle and aunt Singleton are both characters—but I can't stay to describe all my relations."
"Oh do! I like descriptions," said Margaret.
"Well. Aunt Singleton is the quietest little dormouse that ever was seen. She creeps about the house in her black silk gown, is as deaf as a post, and speaks in a whisper. My uncle is a keen sportsman; he taught me to ride, and drive, and angle; and established my health, without improving my manners. He is very proud of me, because he has made me what I am. People think I am trying to imitate Die Vernon, when I am merely following the pursuits natural to such a course of education."
"And how did you learn your lessons all the while?" asked Margaret.
"Never learned any;" replied Harriet. "I picked up French from a lady's-maid; Italian, from a music master, who could not speak English; and Spanish, when myfather was Envoy at Madrid. I can speak and write these languages almost as well as my own; and this with a good deal of desultory reading, is the sum total of my education. I don't even know the multiplication table!"
Margaret laughed.
"You saw Lord Raymond on the course to-day."
"Yes," replied Margaret.
"He used often to pay my uncle a visit, and he always took the notice of me that men are apt to take of children. I used to ride with him and my uncle. I was very fond of horses and dogs, and enjoyed field sports as much as he did. Every visit he paid, Lord Raymond asked me if I would be his little wife; and I as regularly said, 'no, thank you.' I always thought he was unable to leave off any habit. He has just left off this one though."
"Has he?" said Margaret inquiringly.
"You shall hear. Well, when I was about seventeen, George Gage came to seemy uncle. We took a vast fancy to each other; that is, after our fashion:—we were neither of us in the Romeo and Juliet school. Fools—as you can imagine."
Margaret's interest became very deep at this crisis.
Harriet threw her curls off her forehead, and went on.
"He admired my riding and my eyes, and, in fact, every thing I said and did. My uncle was contented; Captain Gage was pleased; we were said to be too young, and the affair was put off for a year or two. Never do that, by the way, if you care about the man. I like to mix a little useful advice with my tale, you observe."
"Why, I think," said Margaret, "that if his love would not last any time, it had better go before than after marriage."
"I thought," said Harriet, "that he had enough love to last to all eternity; but I was mistaken. And if he thought the same of me, he was mistaken too."
At these words she drew herself upproudly, and again scattered her short curls.
"He went off to his regiment; and the next thing I heard of him was that he was at the feet of a married woman—a lady famous for detaching men from their lawful allegiance, whether as husbands or lovers. This Mrs. Max—but we will not mention names."
"Mrs. Maxwell Dorset!" exclaimed Margaret starting up in her chair.
"What, you have heard of her?" said Harriet, "I believe she enjoys a pretty extensive reputation. Is your head worse? I have been talking too much for you, I am afraid."
"Not at all," said Margaret, leaning back again, "pray go on; and will you give me another cup of coffee?"
"You shall have it," said Harriet, "one need not forget to eat and drink; that is the last stage of that most deplorable folly—love. Well—I do not look like a person who would put up with such conduct, do I?"
"No," said Margaret smiling.
"I wrote immediately to George to signify that as he had made his choice, he might abide by it—that he was welcome to be Mrs. such a one's slave, but that I resigned every sort of claim to the honour. I thought he deserved a little better than Lazarillo de Tormes, who played the part of lackey to seven mistresses—the rascal—and at last was almost demolished by two viragos who contended for his services in the open street."
She laughed scornfully, and went on.
"This made rather a cabal in the family, you may suppose. Papa, who thought one daughter was disposed of, looked very blank upon my proceedings. Captain Gage—just like him—took my part. He said that George had behaved shamefully, and though he hoped it would all come right again, he could not wonder at my determination. But these things never do come right again, Margaret."
Margaret sighed.
"The strangest part of the whole affair wasGeorge's conduct. He had been, before this transaction, not at all better than his neighbours—and that is saying little enough for any man—indeed, as my good aunt told me, I might reasonably have expected what happened. My aunt was right, though I own, I could have called her out at the time for saying so. Well, he suddenly turned over a new leaf; renounced his extravagances, cut Mrs. Maxwell Dorset, and became quite a moral character. In fact, behaved as people are supposed to do upon an engagement instead of a repulse. This was all his pride; just to show me what an exemplary character I had thrown away."
"And you," said Margaret, "how did you bear it?"
"Very coolly, I promise you;" said Harriet, "I grew thin, and irritable, and so yellow that I was afraid to look at my own face in the glass. Aunt Singleton plagued me with asses milk. Uncle Singleton gave me a capital hunter. I don't know whichremedy it was, but I very soon forgot all about Master George."
Margaret did not quite believe this, but she made no remark.
"Still," continued Harriet, "I was very glad when papa was appointed Envoy to Madrid. I insisted on going with him, and enjoyed our residence in Spain beyond all description. Just before we set out, Lord Raymond asked me again to be his little wife. I was not exactly in the frame of mind to feel pleased with his politeness; so I told him, that I was tired of having to answer the same idle question, and so took leave of him in a pet.
"We were two years at Madrid; when we came back, the first person I saw was Lord Raymond. I was afraid he was going to bore me again. Not at all. He took the first opportunity to tell me that Lucy had been more complaisant than I had; that they were engaged, but wished to keep it a profound secret for the present, while his pecuniary affairs are undergoing certainregulations. But that dog in the manger, George, thinks that Lord Raymond's attentions are directed to me; and cannot contain his malice on the subject, although it is certainly no concern of his."
"I do not wonder he thinks so," said Margaret, "I am sure I did."
"Yes! because poor Lord Raymond cannot pay Lucy the attention he would wish to do," said Harriet, "and because from habit, he has always been used to consider me as somebody that he ought to follow about, and make a fuss with; and as he is really kind-hearted, he fidgets about me ten times more, now that I have been very ill."
"And about your illness," said Margaret.
"Nothing romantic, I can assure you," said Harriet. "I went to see my Uncle Singleton on my return, and one day, having paid a visit to the wife of one of his park-keepers, a young woman who had formerly been my maid, and who was then ill, I hadthe bad luck to catch her complaint, which was typhus fever. You cannot imagine a greater bore; and I have lost all my hair you see, I have had both disorders, and I pronounce typhus fever to be considerably worse than the tender passion. I hope you may have neither. It is the best wish I can frame for you."
"Thank you for your wish and your story," said Margaret, "it is really a romance."
"That is the worst of it," said Harriet, "I am twenty, and I have already lived a whole life; there is no more excitement for me. I shall marry a country curate, and teach at Sunday schools, I think."
"What a great deal of romance there is in the world," said Margaret.
"True," said Harriet, "some writer says, 'that everybody's heart would be a romance if it were accurately delineated;' not everybody's, though!" she exclaimed with a peal of laughter, "that man who set next to me at dinner. What was his name?"
"Mr. Elliot," said Margaret, beginning to laugh in her turn.
"Aye, Mr. Elliot—fancy his heart!" exclaimed Harriet, bursting into fresh peals of laughter, "the keenest pang he could feel would be hunger; his most exquisite enjoyment a pocket-full of money. No, cry you mercy—there must be some exceptions to the poet's rule."
"On my word, you two seem to be very merry," said Miss Gage, coming in, "I hope not more merry than wise. How is all this to agree with your head, my dear Margaret?"
"Oh, I have been so amused," said Margaret, taking Miss Gage's hand, "that I have forgotten the pain. How beautiful you look, Bessy."
"Yes," said Harriet looking attentively at her, "that white gauze with corn-flowers, has a very tolerable effect. How well they look on your light hair; commend me to such a high tiara of flowers. It gives you the aspect of an empress."
Miss Gage laughed; and Harriet calling in the other ladies, commented upon them with as much indifference as if they had been a set of wax figures.
"There," said she, "what do you say to Lucy? Do you like pink crape, little one? It is very well made; but I prefer white for candlelight. Well, that is the most knowing little cap I have seen a long time, look Margaret; it is made of gold twist. Bravo! Miss Lawson Smith. That is an Indian fan, I suppose, Miss Selwyn. After all, I think Miss Somerton has the prettiest dress; those little bouquets are placed to a wish. Eh, Margaret!"
"They are all charmingly dressed," said Margaret, "pray, dear Bessy, remember to tell me all about it."
"I will, indeed," said Elizabeth, "I will try and recollect everybody's partners; and the different ices at supper. Those are the two leading features of a ball."
"Shall you dance the Mazourka, Bessy?" asked Margaret.
"I—no; I dance very little," said Elizabeth, "a quadrille or two, just for form's sake."
"She stands talking to her father," said Harriet, as soon as the ladies had withdrawn, "that is the way she spends the best part of the evening. I often wonder how Bessy can manage to keep single. She is so very much admired."
"How is it then?" asked Margaret.
"I suppose her father makes her fastidious," said Harriet, "indeed, I do not suppose she would easily find such a person as Captain Gage. I know two people now who would be very happy to die for her."
Margaret opened her eyes.
"Young Haveloc has been talked of for her; because they live in the same county," said Harriet; "but any child can see there is nothing in that quarter. By the way, he is very intimate with my brother Evan."
"Indeed," said Margaret.
"Well, good night, my poor littlemartyr," said Harriet; "I am heartily sorry for you, because, until you have tried, you cannot possibly know what a very stupid affair a ball is."
Margaret returned her farewell, and went to bed, her head full of races, Mr. Gage, Mrs. Maxwell Dorset, her white crape gown, and Bessy's wreath of corn-flowers.
Her whyles Sir Calidore there vowed well,And markt her rare demeanure, which him seemedSo farre the meane of shepheards to excell,As that he in his mind her worthy deemedTo be a prince's paragone esteemed.SPENSER.
Margaret breakfasted with Miss Gage in her dressing-room the next morning, and heard all the particulars that she wished to know respecting the ball. She went down stairs about the middle of the day, and the first person she saw was Harriet Conway standing on the lawn outside the drawing-room windows, talking to Lord Raymond, while Hubert Gage and Mr. Conway were teazing her Skye terrierat a little distance. As soon as she caught sight of Margaret, she came to the window and greeted her.
"Quite well, really? That is right! No remains whatever of that unlucky head-ache? I hope devoutly the dog will bite you both!" she exclaimed, turning round to the gentlemen.
Hubert left the dog to its fate, and came up to condole with Margaret upon her disappointment of the last evening—his disappointment he ought to say; for he was sure that he had been the greatest sufferer on the occasion.
Margaret, knowing very well that he had been dancing, and enjoying himself all the evening, laughed, and said she was sorry for him.
Lord Raymond, who was just going off, took Harriet on one side, and seemed to be talking very earnestly to her. Mr. Conway joined Margaret at the window with the dog, and conversed with her in a very condescending manner; tried to persuadeher to think Donald a great beauty, and told her how much money the little beast was worth.
While they were thus employed, Mr. Gage came into the drawing-room, and advanced leisurely to Margaret. He immediately caught sight of Harriet and Lord Raymond; but he was far too experienced to suffer any vexation to be traced in his manner. He made the most anxious inquiries after Miss Capel's health; regretted very much the loss their party had sustained on the previous night; abused the ball as intolerably stupid; and tried to persuade Margaret to allow him to drive her out after luncheon. He hoped now that she had seen how quiet his horses were, she would feel disposed to trust herself with him. He trusted that Miss Harriet Conway had inspired Miss Capel with a little of her courage.
Harriet, hearing her own name, turned round, and seeing George Gage, coloured, waved her hand to him by way of "goodmorning," and then renewed her conversation with Lord Raymond. His Lordship did not speak very fast; and like many people, the more he made up his mind to go, the farther he was from going. He had to say a great many things which he was very earnest in delivering, and which made Harriet laugh very much; and the bystanders would hardly have imagined that the substance of his narrative was the history of some tulip roots which his sister had paid a great deal of money for, and which, owing to some carelessness on her part, had never blossomed at all.
Meantime, while Mr. Gage talked to Margaret of the flower-show, he was watching every movement and look of Harriet's; and his patience was going by inches, while he appeared much interested in moss roses and Neapolitan violets. At last he said to Mr. Conway in a remarkably calm manner, that considering his sister was an invalid, it occurred to him that it was hardly prudent to stand out in a high wind without a shawl.
Mr. Conway laughed, said it was true enough; but that Harriet had a will of her own, and would not thank him if he interrupted her conversation for the minor consideration of a bonnet and cloak.
"What is that you say of me?" asked Harriet, running up to the window, having just parted from Lord Raymond. "Here, Hubert, stand out of the way, you are such giants, you Gage's. Give me my dog, Charles. Now, Margaret, if you wish to see a beauty—but what were you saying of me?"
"Merely remarking that it would have been unpardonable to break in upon your tête-á-tête to save you from the chance of another illness. I ventured to think that you were slightly clad for so cold a wind," said Mr. Gage, drawing his chair to the fire, as if in proof of the inclement weather.
"People have no business to think at all upon my proceedings," said Harriet, carelessly, "Hubert! I wish you would go and get Donald a little bit of meat on a plate;he ought to have his dinner about this time of day. My dog is not a dog in the manger," she added; drawing close to Margaret with Donald in her arms. "How frightened you look. He does not hear me."
"He will be worth nothing for sport if you nurse and pet him so," said her brother, "you had much better have a lap-dog."
"Now is not that quite a man's idea?" said Harriet laughing, "if you can make anything of use to you, well; but you have literally no notion of companionship. You judge everything by what it would fetch; and why you ever marry, I cannot think, unless you get some money by the bargain."
"Oh! that is too severe upon my word. Do not you think so?" said Hubert, turning to Margaret.
"I hope so," said Margaret, "but I have seen too little to judge."
"I cannot think that experience will ever make you judge hardly of others,"said Mr. Gage in a soft voice to Margaret.
"Experience will tell her that to judge truly, is to judge hardly in five cases out of ten," said Harriet disdainfully.
"Luncheon is ready," exclaimed Hubert, taking Margaret's hand and hurrying her out of the room, "and a good thing too, for our discussion was growing rather stormy; and I have no objection to interrupt my courtier of a brother in his pretty speeches."
Margaret laughed as she took her seat at the table, and said she thought that pretty speeches ran in the family. She felt now perfectly at her ease with both brothers; feeling convinced that George was still attached to Harriet Conway, and that Hubert did not know what it was to be attached to any body.
"Oh, by the way!" said Hubert, as he drew a chair beside Margaret, "Haveloc would go off after breakfast. He made many inquiries about you, and was very sorry,as everybody was, last night. Bread! to be sure, I beg you a thousand pardons. Now don't starve; it is dreadful to see women eat so little, it reminds me of that story,—did you ever read the Arabian Nights?"
"Often," said Margaret, "you mean the story of the Ghoul. I do not mean to be a Ghoul to-day; you may give me some chicken."
"That's right," said Hubert. "Hallo! here is the Governor with that old wretch, Casement. How I wish Haveloc was here; he hates the old fellow so cordially. Don't you?"
"I am glad he is away," said Margaret, "for they always quarrel."
"You are an angel of peace," exclaimed Hubert, gazing at her with admiration.
"Pray don't be sentimental at luncheon," said Margaret, laughing, "it is so very inappropriate."
Captain Gage and Mr. Casement now came up to the table. Captain Gage tooka vacant chair on the other side of Margaret; shook hands, and said a great many kind things to her on her loss of the ball; hoped it would not be long before there was another in the neighbourhood; wondered what people were about that they did not give as many dances as they used to do, and insisted on her drinking a glass of wine. Mr. Casement stopped short, and taking out his glasses, surveyed everybody at table with much deliberation; and odious as he was, there was something in his manner which showed that he had been used to a great deal of society, and that he held himself on a level with everybody he met.
"Hallo!" said he, "you have got a party together. How do you manage to keep them out of mischief; eh, Captain? There is something going on at your elbow there, as I'm alive. Eh, little woman! Shall I go home and tell uncle?"
Margaret coloured deeply. Miss Gage shook her head at Mr. Casement.
"Miss Gage, your most devoted," saidhe, bowing to her. "No, I never touch anything at this time of day—well, for once, give me a bit of tongue, little woman. Thank you, Master Hubert."
And not being able to express himself fully, under the kind but commanding eye of Miss Gage, he was obliged to content himself by making a face at Hubert and Margaret, which was intended to speak the contents of a whole valentine.
"And who is that curly-headed thing yonder?" said Mr. Casement pointing with his glasses to Harriet.
"My niece, Harriet," said Captain Gage, who was so used to hear Harriet call him uncle, that he forgot at the moment that their relationship was rather more distant.
"Niece—by Adam's side," said Mr. Casement. "Eh, Captain Gage! it looks rather suspicious when gentlemen call ladies their nieces—ha! ha!"
"Sir!" said George Gage, staring in his most arrogant manner at Mr. Casement.
"Eh! you there Master George?" saidMr. Casement. "I thought you could not get leave; really, when one considers what a farce the service is now-a-days, one is puzzled to know why you should not get leave, as you call it, every mother's son of you at once. What are you doing over in Ireland?"
George Gage seemed very little disposed to give Mr. Casement an answer; but after staring at him haughtily for a moment, he replied "Nothing." And then turning to his sister, he asked her some questions about her plans for the afternoon.
"Do you know, Uncle Gage," said Harriet, "that I am going to stay here a whole week longer?"
"The longer the better," said Captain Gage. "I wish you were all going to stay. The house will seem deserted when you are gone."
Lady Conway made some polite reply to this speech, and thanked Miss Gage for taking charge of Harriet, for she knew they were to have a very gay week atWardenscourt, and it was important that Harriet should be quiet.
George Gage on hearing this announcement, directed his merciless stare to Harriet in some surprise; for Wardenscourt was Lord Raymond's place, and it seemed but natural that she should have made an effort to go there.
Harriet cared nothing for his gaze; she was used to be looked at, and she did not even seem to perceive that his eyes were upon her; she kept her eyes on her plate, and a suppressed smile played for an instant on her cheek, as she said, "Ah! Wardenscourt; they are sure to be really gay there. It is the only house almost—but I shall have the pleasure of being with you Bessy."
"Wardenscourt is not far off, fortunately," said George.
Harriet looked up, still smiling.
"No," she said. "I hope Lord Raymond will come over one morning to tell me about the pointers his keeper is training for UncleSingleton. Take care that you remind him, Lucy."
Lucy laughed and coloured. Margaret felt very much inclined to laugh too.
"It will be worth while for him to come over," said George, "if he occupies you as profitably as he did this morning."
"How was that, Mr. Gage?" asked Lady Conway.
"The fact is this, mamma," said Harriet hastily, "Mr. Gage having forgotten my out of door propensities, was astonished to see me standing on the lawn for a few minutes without my bonnet."
"Oh! pray be careful while we are away, my dear," said Lady Conway. "You must not take cold."
They were rising. Mr. Gage drew back Harriet's chair; and she, in passing out, fixed her splendid eyes upon him, and muttered in a distinct manner, 'Tu me lo pagherai.'
He bowed as if to say, he was willing to make payment at any time.
The ladies remained loitering among the beautiful plants in the hall, and Elizabeth coming up to Margaret, urged her, in a low voice, to stay with her as long as Harriet remained at Chirke Weston.
"It will be more cheerful for both of you, and though I do not propose her as a model for your imitation; you are safe with her, she always speaks the truth. And your uncle can better spare you now Mr. Haveloc is with him."
Margaret accepted with much pleasure, and the visitors having now all dropped off, she began really to enjoy herself. They walked out, accompanied by George and Hubert over a beautiful country.
Hubert divided his attentions very much between Margaret and the Skye terrier.
Harriet took her own course, swinging in her hand a little riding-whip which had a whistle at the end of it, with which she was used to summon her dog.
George walked with Elizabeth, being out of humour, and thinking very properlythat his sister was created for the especial purpose of cheering him under the influence of that complaint.
She succeeded in doing so, for her evenness of temper was remarkable. She agreed that it was a miserable day—that the wind was keen—that it was very likely to rain—that the ball had been a dull one, and that the post came in at Chirke Weston at an inconvenient time—and then, (for it does not answer to agree too much with people,) she qualified his censures of Lord Raymond, defended her father's black cravats, maintained there would be a great many people at the flower-show, and said she had not at all pitied him for being obliged to dance with Lady Farquhar, though she was fat, and five and forty.
George being a little restored by this time, began to grow confidential. He told Elizabeth that he was very thankful that things had turned out as they did between Harriet and him. That he was convinced she had no heart. That she was very wellsuited to Lord Raymond, and he had no doubt but that they would be extremely happy!
He said this in rather an angry tone, and did not look as if he at all wished that their married life should prove an Elysium; so Elizabeth changed the subject.
"What do you think of my little friend?" she asked. "You must admire Margaret."
"Yes," he said. "She is a lovely little creature, but such a mere child, and so shy; and it is too much to expect that one can take the trouble to draw a woman out. I should not be surprised if she was to grow a little taller, which would be an advantage. She dresses well, and her hand and arm is really a model. I was struck with it immediately. And I am glad to perceive," he said, directing his glance to Margaret, as she walked on in front with Hubert and Harriet against a pretty strong breeze. "I am glad to see that her foot and ancle is equally perfect."
"Well," said Elizabeth smiling. "Onthe whole, your decision seems to be favourable."
"Yes, decidedly," said Mr. Gage quite seriously. "I am very well pleased; for I have not been used to be ashamed of my sister, and I should care to be ashamed of my sister-in-law; for that I suppose will be the end of it, Bessy?"
"I shall be very glad if it is so," replied Elizabeth.
"He might do worse," said Mr. Gage. "Sailors are soinconsèquent. They often marry the most extraordinary persons—people that one never has heard of. Miss Capel, however, seems highly respectable. But," he added in a low tone, "to put that little doll in competition with such a woman as Harriet! Hubert need not fear me for a rival."
"Very fortunately," said Elizabeth smiling, "it would be dreadful if we were to have the Theban brothers over again."
"They fought for a crown, not a woman," said Mr. Gage, "being wise men."
"Is Mr. Gage very amusing to you, Bessy?" said Harriet, looking back, "that you don't come to join our party?"
Elizabeth good-naturedly quickened her steps, and Harriet said aloud to Margaret, "It is a charity to break in upon their tête-á-tête, for Mr. Gage has grown so dull, I think he must have caught cold on the race ground."
Margaret looked frightened, and Mr. Gage pretended not to hear Harriet's speech.
Margaret was very happy during her stay at Chirke Weston. Hubert Gage was always paying her compliments which she laughed at, and contriving all sorts of schemes for her amusement, for which she was much obliged.
She became every day more attached to Elizabeth; she admired her character, and loved her sweetness; and it was delightful to see the terms upon which she lived with her father and brothers.
George Gage paid Margaret the mostdevoted attentions whenever he wished to pique Harriet, and at other times consigned her to the care of Hubert, as if he had too much delicacy to interfere with his brother's pretensions. Fortunately, she found amusement in the society of both brothers, without allowing their courtesies to penetrate her heart.
And she will die ere she make her love known; andshe will die if he woo her, rather than she will 'bate onebreath of her accustomed coyness.MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.
It was the last day of Margaret's stay. Harriet was also to leave Chirke Weston the next morning. She was standing with Margaret in one of the drawing-room windows after breakfast, making her promise over and over again that she would come and see her at her uncle Singleton's, when Lord Raymond drove up to the house in his dog-cart. He produced out of this vehicle the two pointers which Harriet had been anxious to see; and, on a signal from her hand, he brought them up to the window where she was standing.
As soon as she had done admiring and commenting upon these pointers, Lord Raymond delivered them to his groom to pack up in their box again, and joined Harriet in the drawing-room. Elizabeth looked up from her carpet-work, and received Lord Raymond with her usual graceful calmness; and George Gage who was writing at the other end of the room, rising from his letters, took a chair by the side of that distinguished nobleman, and engaged him in conversation; and as he did this with an air of extreme politeness, Margaret did not guess that his sole motive was to expose his rival's deficiency in that useful art.
But Lord Raymond never actually conversed, he only answered questions. So, when he had told Mr. Gage that John Baldwin was a connexion of his, but that it was Ferdinand Baldwin who married Miss Thoresby; that he believed her fortune had been greatly overrated; that Ferdinand was a first cousin of John's;—that certainly Miss Thoresby had been engaged to a Colonel Carpenter, who had thought himself very much ill-used when she broke off the engagement; that Henry Baldwin was a Roman Catholic, and that there were a great many of that name in Staffordshire, he had nothing more to say for himself; and rising to depart, he asked Harriet whether she had any message to send to her sister at Wardenscourt.
"Tell Lucy," said Harriet looking archly at Lord Raymond, "that I should be disposed to envy her if I were any where but at Chirke Weston."
As soon as Lord Raymond was gone, Mr. Gage stalked back to his writing, and Harriet, calling Margaret to her side, began a panegyric on his Lordship; vaunting his good principles, his kindness of heart, and above all his even temper.
As all these qualities may exist under a very ordinary exterior, Margaret had nothing to do but to acquiesce; but when Harriet went on to say that she thoughthim unquestionably the most aristocratic man that she had ever seen, Margaret opened her eyes with a gesture of astonishment; and Mr. Gage, throwing down his pen, in something like a passion, said that Miss Conway was known to be original in her opinions; but that certainly, he imagined, she would find herself perfectly unique in this idea. That most people would find it difficult to credit from his appearance that Lord Raymond was a gentleman—and that, except the late Earl of D——, the peerage had seldom been disfigured by such a specimen of humanity.
"Did I say he was handsome, Squire Sullen?" retorted Harriet. "I merely gave my opinion of his deportment, which I consider quite fascinating."
"Unquestionably," Mr. Gage said, resuming his pen with great dignity. "Miss Conway's opinion of Lord Raymond was of more consequence than any other person's.He merely regretted that he could not in this instance agree with it."
Harriet merely replied by one of her most scornful looks. Mr. Gage took up the newspaper, and Hubert, coming in at the moment, persuaded Elizabeth and Margaret to go with him to one of the hot-houses to see some beautiful American plants.
Now on this very morning it chanced that Mrs. Somerton felt it her duty to call at Chirke Weston.
For, as she said, it was impossible to know what that artful little creature, Margaret Capel was about with those two brothers, unless she went to see it with her own eyes; and that it was Blanche's business to counteract her as much as possible: that if Margaret had really entangled Hubert, to flirt with him would be a mere waste of time; but that although George was not an impressible subject, yet by management, something might be done with him. Even a little attention from sofastidious a person might be of service to her; for there were several men in the neighbourhood who took for gospel all that George Gage chose to say.
"Ah!" said the amiable Blanche, "it is very well that I know how to manage matters without your help! See what you have done for my sister. Thank you! I don't wish to follow her example. I shall find a match for myself!"
"You are looking very well to day," said Mrs. Somerton, putting up her glass, "if you would but wear your hair a little lower on your face."
"Much obliged," retorted Blanche. "I say, look at my sister, as complete an old maid as ever lived; all owing to your valuable hints. She has nothing for it now but to go to Missionary meetings, and pick up a stray Methodist preacher."
"There is one thing," said Mrs. Somerton, exasperated by this attack. "I don't believe anybody ever had such ill-disposed ungrateful children as mine!"
"Chips of the old block, I suppose," returned Blanche laughing.
"Come, come;" said Mrs. Somerton, as they reached the entrance to Chirke Weston, "this is not to the purpose; recollect that George is your object to-day."
While this attack was preparing for the unconscious Mr. Gage, he was in the drawing-room pretending to read the paper, and employing himself in watching intently every movement of Harriet Conway.
As soon as Elizabeth was gone, Harriet took up a book, drew a footstool close to the fire, and sat down upon it. She wore a beautiful morning gown of purple Cashemere, worked in floss silk, and trimmed, and tied with cords and tassels. Her attitude was striking and graceful, and as she slowly turned the leaves of her book, the light of the fire sparkled on the costly rings that adorned her slender fingers.
Although Mr. Gage never removed his eyes from her, she feigned to be totally absorbed in her book, and unconscious ofhis presence. At last he approached her under pretence of mending the fire.
She looked up and nodded to him.
"What is that you are reading?" said he. "A French novel? I thought ladies never did such things in public."
"I thought you knew, Squire—I mean Mr. Gage, that I am never ashamed of any thing I do," said Harriet. "Besides, this is a very readable one of Eugéne Sue's."
"Yes—a certain class of French novels are very harmless," said Mr. Gage.
"Look!" said Harriet, turning the book round, and holding it up so that he might read the title: 'Arthur.'
Now Mr. Gage had never read 'Arthur;' so he said directly, that it was a very clever work; indeed, in parts, really beautiful. There was something quite touching in one or two of the scenes.
As this might be safely said of any book written by Eugéne Sue, Mr. Gage was not out of his depth.
Harriet acquiesced, and asked him what he thought of the character of Hèléne.
Mr. Gage replied without hesitation, that it was very ably depicted, but that his ideas of female perfection were not exactly formed upon that model.
"Too statuesque, perhaps, for your taste," said Harriet.
"Yes, that was the case," Mr. Gage said, catching at the hint. "He thought something a little less unbending more attractive in the female character."
"And do you not think Arthur very interesting, in spite of his faults?" said Harriet.
"Undoubtedly," replied Mr. Gage, "but whether he would find any favour with the fair sex, you can determine better than me."
"I don't know. I can't quite make out," said Harriet. "You see one would never be prepared for so strange a disposition. But how beautifully he describesscenery," she continued, turning the leaves. "He makes quite a paradise of this cottage ornèe."
"Your taste," said Mr. Gage, in a very pointed manner. "Your taste would lead you to a much less simple style of architecture."
"Oh, yes!" said Harriet putting up her book to conceal her smiles. "I hate cottages. My idea of perfect felicity is to be found only in a nobleman's seat."
"I trust," said Mr. Gage, looking very grand and injured, "that you will never have reason to acknowledge yourself mistaken."
"Why, George," said Harriet, just trusting her laughing eyes over the top of her book, "how long have you been an advocate for living in cottages? I should think they must be just one degree worse than barracks."
"Heartless!" muttered Mr. Gage, turning away, and walking to the window.
Harriet buried her face in her handkerchief to stifle her laughter. Shewas not in the slightest degree afraid that Mr. Gage would transfer his regard to another, in consequence of her provoking mystifications. She felt that she had regained her power over him, and that as long as she remained single, so would he. But she delighted in mischief, and would not for the world have let him discover that she cared anything about him. At this instant the bell rang.
"Now don't for Heaven's sake, George, leave me to entertain your guests," said Harriet, looking up with a very flushed face, "it is only fair to stay and support me."
"Pray don't call them my guests," said Mr. Gage, coming back, however, "I should have rather a different visiting list if this house were in my possession."
"Yes, your list would be very extensive if you lived in one of your favourite cottages," said Harriet, seating herself on the sofa; "all the neighbouring farmers andtheir wives. How I should like to see you playing cribbage with Farmer Jenkins!"
Mr. Gage leaning against the mantelpiece, "regretted that he was unable to follow all Miss Conway's flights of fancy," and "was not aware that he had said anything that could lead her to suppose he intended forming an intimacy with Farmer Jenkins."
The door was opened and Mrs. Somerton and her daughter were announced. Harriet bowed coldly; and Mr. Gage, after a still more frigid fashion.
Mrs. Somerton, who had seen the world, was not at all put out by this English reception; and Blanche with a manner full ofminauderie, glanced sideways at Mr. Gage, and glided into a chair as near to him as she conveniently could. Now any person totally unacquainted with society, and forming their notions of good manners from abstract principles, would perhaps imagine that Mr. Gage and Harriet would instantlybegin to talk to the visitors, and endeavour to amuse them until Miss Gage should arrive. Not at all; they had seen enough of company, to know how much they might leave undone; a code much more extensively put in practice than that which might teach people how much to do.
Mr. Gage stared across at Mrs. Somerton. Harriet with her head drawn up, surveyed Blanche.
At last, Mr. Gage said to Harriet, "Have you any idea where Bessy is?"
"I suppose," said Harriet, "that she is somewhere among the hot-houses. Hubert said something about the American plants. I dare say she will be in to luncheon."
"It is not half past one yet," said Mr. Gage, pointing to the time-piece.
"That French piece of trumpery is always wrong," said Harriet.
"My watch is the same, all but two minutes," said Mr. Gage, taking it out.
"If they happened to meet your father, you know, he would carry them all over the country," returned Harriet.
"Of course he would," said Mr. Gage, "whenever I see his straw hat, I make a point of getting out of the way. I have no idea of being handed round the farm yard, and introduced to every fresh litter of pigs."
"Have not you?" said Harriet mischievously. "I thought those humble pleasures belonged especially to the sphere of life you are so partial to. Most cottages, I believe in these days, can boast a pig-stye."
Mr. Gage hardly knew whether to laugh or be angry; at that moment Elizabeth and Margaret made their appearance together, followed by Hubert with a splendid bouquet of flowers.
Elizabeth seated herself beside Mrs. Somerton. Hubert delivered the flowers to Margaret, and drew his chair close to hers.
"But what am I to do with all these, Mr. Hubert?" said Margaret.
"You are to wear all these heaths this evening, you know," he said selecting the heaths from the nosegay. "I will make a wreath for you."
"But how very smart I shall be," said Margaret, hesitatingly.
"Oh! you promised—you will not draw back; see this is the way I shall mix them. All the shades, from white to crimson—no, a cluster will be prettier than a wreath. You cannot refuse—your last day. Ah! how beautiful you will look—but that you always do. Come, you will promise to wear them?"
"Will you promise to talk something like sense then Mr. Hubert?" said Margaret archly. "These striped camellias are for you, Harriet."
"Thanks, little one," said Harriet. "Tell Hubert to keep them all in water for us till we go up to dress."
Mr. Gage, by this time, having noticed Blanche's childish, sparkling face, and pretty figure, condescended to say to her in a haughty tone, "Did you walk here?"
"To be sure!" said Blanche, "such a beautiful morning. I would not have had the carriage out on any account."
There was one slight drawback to her using a carriage, if she wished it; namely, that she did not possess a vehicle of any description. But Mr. Gage who was very little at home, and who knew nothing of the concerns of his neighbours, was easily imposed upon.
"Yes," he said rather less haughtily, "It was hardly worth while for a short distance."
"And then I am such a walker!" said Blanche, her pretty face kindling and dimpling with smiles; "I am never tired of wandering about this lovely country. I told mamma positively that I never would pass a seasonin town. My sister is there now with our relation, Lady K——, in the midst of balls and gaieties. But I should think them a very poor exchange for the Ashdale woods."
Had Mr. Gage possessed more than the usual amount of penetration, he could not have been expected to guess that Blanche was in a perpetual ill-humour, because her sister was in town this season instead of herself; he merely thought it was odd for so pretty a girl to be contented with retirement, and that there was something rather attractive in the novelty of it.
"I suppose your tastes are quite pastoral," said Mr. Gage, relaxing still more of his dignity. "I dare say, if the truth were told, you have a pet lamb, which you crown with flowers every morning before breakfast."
"Oh, Mr. Gage!" said Blanche shaking her head with a little air of reproach, "the days are gone by when country people were obliged to depend on such childish amusements. We can have new books and music now, almost as soon as they appear intown. Indeed, we can bring everything from London, but its smoky atmosphere."
Harriet who had been watching Hubert arranging the flowers in a glass, now turned round and beheld Mr. Gage actually talking to Blanche Somerton,—bending down and smiling at her. She coloured with anger and contempt.
"Mr. Gage," said she, pointing to a work-box close to him, "shall I trouble you to give me that box?"
Mr. Gage brought it her; she took out of it what she wanted, and then returned him the box. He sat down beside her still holding it.
"I think you don't often work," he said. "I do not remember to have seen you."
"No. This is not work exactly; this is crochet," said Harriet, holding up a purse of blue and silver twist. "Don't you think it very handsome?"
"Yes. Only so stiff; you could not draw it through a ring."
"Of course not; it is to have a clasp. See, this will match it very well; silver and turquoise. Now, wrap it up again in the silver paper. Put it neatly away. Now who do you think it is for?"
Mr. Gage's brow darkened.
"Uncle Singleton! When he plays at cards, he always likes to have a handsome purse. Would you believe it? I think it is only that he may have the pleasure of saying, 'My niece Harriet made this for me.!'"
"You are a great favourite there," said Mr. Gage, looking quite comfortable again.
"Can you wonder?" said Harriet, looking very like a coquette into his face.
"No indeed," replied Mr. Gage.
"It was there I first met Lord Raymond," said Harriet, heaving a deep sigh.
Mr. Gage put down her work-box, and rose from the sofa; but he did not return to Blanche, he went to his newspaper.
"Too bad!" said Blanche to herself, swelling with rage and spite. "She does not want him for herself, and yet she must needs interfere with me, when I was getting on so nicely. A malicious creature! I should like to drown her! I don't think anything in this world so mean as to interrupt another's flirtation when you have no good reason for doing it."
And Blanche crossed the room and tried very hard to detach Hubert from Margaret.
George Gage did not at all recover this last attack before dinner-time; he was very grand and sullen. Harriet, on the contrary, was in the wildest spirits. In many respects Margaret thought these two very well suited to each other. Kind and cordial as Harriet was to her, nothing could exceed her pride; and she was as haughty and as distant to people, whom she did not consider on a level with herself, as Mr. Gage could be. Her manners that morning were merely a sample of her general style ofbehaviour. A cold stare, and a monosyllable were all she vouchsafed to any of the village people who happened to be on visiting terms at Chirke Weston, and the only subject on which she and George Gage were sure to sympathise, was disgust at the intrusion of such persons while they condescended to honour the house with their presence. At such times, their eyes would meet with an expression of endurance very different from the hostile looks they so frequently exchanged.
Harriet came down to dinner looking like an old picture. She wore a high dress of black satin, ornamented with Spanish buttons of gold filigree. Her hair was frizzed out round her head like some of Van Dyck's early pictures, and the striped camellias put in just behind the ear—she seemed determined to look her best this last evening.
George Gage stared directly. He had a great fancy for seeing women in fine clothes; and clothes that looked as if they cost agreat deal of money. He took her into dinner, and tried to command his temper, and keep up a conversation with her.
"You drove out after luncheon, did you not?"
"Yes. Did not you hear Uncle Gage and me planning a secret expedition together?"
"No. Might I ask where you went?"
"We went all the way to S——. Are you not very anxious to learn our object?"
"If it is not a breach of confidence, certainly."
"You could not guess, Mr. Gage?"
"I fear not."
"It was to get pack-thread for garden-nets."
"A very important mission," said Mr. Gage.
"You will think it important when the season comes for fruit; but, perhaps, you will not be here."
"I shall not. I go back to Ireland in about a fortnight."
"Still you know, though you will not be here to steal the plums, other people will be enjoying them; and you can leave word with the gardener to send your friend, little Blanche Somerton, the first basket of ripe cherries."
"I really do not know any person of that name," said Mr. Gage, indignantly.
"Well, after that!" said Harriet lifting up her hands. "Hubert, I hope you saw what was going on this morning."
"Oh, yes! I saw plainly enough," said Hubert. "She is a great flirt, that little thing; and rather pretty, I think."
"Very pretty!" said Harriet magnanimously. "I was not blaming Mr. Gage. I merely suggested a little offering—quite a cottage offering Mr. Gage."
"Oh! the little creature who was here this morning," said Mr. Gage; "rather anice little creature! Yes, I should not object taking her a basket of cherries."
"You could eat them with her like Napoleon, you know," said Harriet.
Here Hubert burst into a violent fit of laughter, at the idea of his brother doing anything like Napoleon.
"She is a very pretty girl," said Captain Gage, joining in the discussion. "Did not you dance with her a good deal at the ball, Hubert?"
"Yes, Sir, that is, I believe, once or twice. That miserable ball," he added in a low voice to Margaret.
"Oh, Mr. Hubert!" said Margaret laughing.
Elizabeth Gage did not say one word either for or against Blanche Somerton. She knew her to be almost devoid of good qualities; but she knew that people, men especially, will always form their own opinion.
"You shall sing, little one;" said Harriet to Margaret after tea. "Iwill not let you off any longer."
"No. It distresses her, Harriet," said Elizabeth kindly, "I never press her."
"I dare say. Is she to have her own way always? I want to hear the quality of her voice," said Harriet positively.
"Indeed, Harriet, I am not a man; you might let me have my way," said Margaret, shrinking back from the piano.
"My dear Harriet, I hope you apply that remark; there is a little bit of unconscious satire in it," said Elizabeth.
"Bah! there is no truth in it. I never tyrannise," said Harriet, laughing. "But as I am not so timid, I will try and sing you something. Mr. Gage, you like Italian music. Have you ever heard this?"
She sang beautifully. Margaret was entranced.
Mr. Gage came round to the piano to look at the name of the song. It was 'Senza pace, senza speme;' and on the top waswritten, as if with a coarse lead pencil:—
"Harriet Conway,from Lord Raymond."
Now Margaret had seen Harriet busy writing something on the song with a pencil, a few minutes before she had sat down to sing, and she could not help wondering at the perseverance with which she contrived to teaze Mr. Gage. It need not be said that Lord Raymond had never given her the song, although from his long intimacy with her family there would have been no great crime if he had.
Mr. Gage, who had taken the song from the stand, dropped it again as if it had burnt his fingers.
"Is it not a beautiful thing?" said Harriet looking up at Mr. Gage. "He has such a taste for music!"
"Who has, my dear?" asked Captain Gage.
"Lord Raymond, uncle."
"Has he, indeed?—I never knew that before," said Captain Gage. "Why he hasnever any music at his house, unless there is a very large party."
"He has no wife, you know, Uncle Gage, and he cannot play the piano himself."
"He must marry a good musician, then," said Captain Gage. "I don't know anything that more contributes to the cheerfulness of a family circle than a little good music."
"So Lord Raymond seems to think," said Mr. Gage, in a low voice to Harriet.
"Yes. Nothing so very first-rate though," said Harriet, thinking of Lucy, who played in a pleasing style, but nothing more, on the harp and piano.
"Oh! you are too modest," said Mr. Gage.
"Thank you," said Harriet laughing. "Do you think me then such a very good player?"
"Can you never be serious?" said Mr. Gage, turning away reproachfully.
Harriet laughed more merrily than before at the tone of this last remark. Margaretwatched them earnestly. Surely, she thought, this last evening something will be said, something will occur, to bring about an understanding. Harriet will surely not be able to keep up this appearance of indifference to the last.
But the tapers were brought in, people wished each other good night, and Harriet touched Mr. Gage's fingers, and bade him good bye, as if she should see him to-morrow. And the next day, before he had left his room, she was on her way to join her friends at Wardenscourt.