Onthe evening of Sir William Temple's dinner-party, the invitation to which Lord Albert had declined, he retired at an early hour to his study; and having closed his door, he sat some minutes with his head reclining on his hands, endeavouring to shut out the frivolous insignificances of many late past evenings, and to recal those of a very different description and tendency.
A sweet and silvery tone of feeling analogous to a fine Wilson that hung opposite to his writing-table, shed a serene, self-satisfying sensation over his mind; it might be a false complacency, yet complacency for the time being it was—and he opened his writing-box, in the lid of which was a portrait. This portrait represented a very youthful girl intently busied in copying abust, the likeness of himself. A flush passed over his countenance, his eyes sparkled, and a genuine sensation of rapture thrilled through his heart, as he said,
"Oh! how superior to all I now see around me—young, innocent, intelligent, the dignity of human nature is here! Gazing at this image, I can never err; it would recal me to the path of rectitude were I ever so inclined to swerve from it." At that moment a letter caught his attention; it was still unanswered—again he coloured, for it had remained so since the preceding morning; and such a letter! Now with an eagerness that would have redeemed the slight, he actually kissed the opened page; and previous to replying to it, re-perused the following contents of
LADY ADELINE SEYMOUR'S LETTER.
"I think it a long time, dearest Albert, since I have heard from you. But then you are so busy, and have so many things to do; whereas I have nothing to do, but to count up minutes, days, and hours; yet this is so wrong, that Iblame myself even for thinking, much more for writing the thought; and would blot out the dissatisfied words, but that I promised you should know truly, and without disguise, what really passed in my mind."After what I heard good Mr. Adams preach last Sunday, how dare I wish to hurry on time, when I make so poor a use of it? Indeed, dear Albert, when I think seriously, I do not wish it; but when I feel that we are parted, and yield to that feeling, why then I am a wayward creature. Does not this prove, my dear Albert, how cautiously we ought to look into our hearts, since out of them are the issues of life? I will do so; I will try to do so, if God will help me; for it is only by this watching that I shall render myself at all worthy of you. Mamma said to me the other day:"'My dear love, remember that marriage is a state necessarily imposing many duties, and accumulating many cares; this in its happiest instances must ever be the case; it is wisely ordered that it should be so. But it isa state honoured by God and man, and opens upon a wide field for self-improvement. If entered upon in this view, it brings with its pains many delights and consolations, both for this world and the next; but if it is engaged in rashly, merely for the purpose of running a more unchecked career, or for the unworthy purposes of aggrandizement in rank and fortune apart from nobler views, it never fails to produce disappointment, and it may be, disgust of life and endless misery.'"What a terrible picture, my Albert! But I cannot conceive it possible that any body should marry from any motive but attachment, and therefore I can hardly persuade myself that any of these awful consequences are likely to attend on marriage; only my Bible shews me the insufficiency of all mere mortal trusts; and Mamma, I know, never says what she does not think is true; therefore I must try and prepare myself for becoming such a wife to you as will secure our mutual felicity. The little book we exchanged on the day you left us, I read morning and evening, and as soon asit is finished I begin it again; so when you are reading yours, you may be certain we are pronouncing the same words, thinking the same thoughts, lifting up our hearts together to the God who made us."How thankful we ought to be for good books; are they not messengers from heaven? And yet how we slight them. Often, when engaged in my morning's duty of reading, my wandering mind turns so frequently to drawing, to music, or any other exercise, that at length I have punished myself by determining not to have recourse to these recreations till I can moderate my ardour for them, and enjoy them only as recreations; theyought notto be more—all beyond is idolatry. I have of late, too, engaged myself in active duties among the poor around our neighbourhood; and my rides to their different habitations give me such additional health and spirits, that I am always ready to laugh at all Mr. Foley's silly jokes. My heart is so light, and I feel so happy—I see no end to all the diverting things I have in view, and some day or another when, pleaseGod, I am really your wife, all the schemes I form for the benefit of those within the circle of my influence will be fully realized."What an extended sphere of usefulness will then be mine, and oh! my Albert! what an awful responsibility too will then attach to my situation! I pray daily that I may be enabled to meet it as I ought. What I grudge most is, the time which I am now frequently forced to lose, in being civil to our dull neighbours here; and I do confess that to sit amused by Miss Grimsdale's side, while she talks over the last county ball, or to listen to old Lady Henniker's history of her ménage with becoming patience, is a trial for which no self-complacency in the idea, that I am making a sacrifice to oblige others, does in any degree compensate. But Mamma smiles when she hears me answeringtout a rebours, and sees my fingers entangling the silks, and tells me afterwards that we are not to live to ourselves, and that in fact to please others, when not neglecting, any positive duty, is a minor virtue. I am sure she is right—but, dear Albert,I feel on such occasions how difficult it is to be good! Mr. Foley, to whom I expressed myself thus the other day, told me, 'I talked a great deal of nonsense, though I was a very charming person altogether,' and ended by asking me seriously—'What wrong I thought it possible I could do, living as I did?' How ignorant he must be of the state of the human heart, not to know that our best efforts are faulty, our purest actions imperfect! I stared at him, and then attempted to explain to him that all our thoughts, words, and actions, are marked with inherent error. He stared at me in return, and, looking at me incredulously, asked 'do you really mean what you say?'"'Most assuredly,' I replied; 'can any one mean otherwise?' Then he looked very grave indeed, sighed heavily, and said, 'it was a sad thing to see one so fair and young imbued with such false ideas—ideas which in the end would make me wretched.' I laughed, as I assured him that it was he that was deceived, and who would be wretched; that as for myself,I was the gayest, happiest creature upon earth; and all I had to dread was, loving the world too well, and seeing it in too fair a light. I had not a corner of my heart, I said, unoccupied, or a minute in the day unemployed; and besides that, my reliance upon God made me feel as if I never could be perfectly unhappy under any circumstances."But no sooner were these words uttered, than my heart smote me, for I thought ofyou, dear Albert, and suddenly a cloud seemed to pass over me, and my deceitful heart sickened at the thought of the possibility of losing you; and then I knew how ill I was prepared to yield that perfect obedience which we are called upon to yield to the will of heaven.—I believe my countenance betrayed somewhat of this self-condemning spirit, for Mr. Foley quickly asked, whilst fixing his searching eyes on mine, 'What, is therenothingwhich could make you miserable?' and I trembled, and blushed, and felt a tear of shame rise in my eye, as I answered:"'Perhaps I deceive myself, and think ofmyself too highly. Perhaps—in short—at all events, I know that I amtryingso to feel, and so to think.' He laughed contemptuously, saying:"'I guessed how it was—poor Lady Adeline! this false system is spreading fearfully indeed!' What could he mean? Mamma told me on my repeating to her this conversation, 'that to many persons Mr. Foley would be a dangerous man; but not to you, my child; and I have a love for that wayward creature, the son of the dearest friend I ever possessed, which makes me incline to overlook his faults, and hope that he will amend them. Who knows but the mode of life we lead may be the means of sowing some good seed in his heart? However, my dear child, encourage not his conversation on such points.' I believe Mamma is right, for notwithstanding my dislike of his irreligious tenets, he is so well-informed, and so very diverting, that I cannot help being entertained by him. And in many respects I assure you, Albert, he is a good man, and general report bespeaks him such. He isvery charitable; is kind to people in distress; and goes regularly to church, when he is with us—is not all this very unaccountable with his strange way of talking to me? I do not understand it, and indeed it is not worth thinking much about, one way or the other. Write to me, dear Albert, and tell me what your opinion is upon this subject. I wish in all things to conform to your wishes, and to model my opinion on yours: for I well know your excellent principles and unerring judgment. To-morrow, I allow myself to return to the delight of copying your dear bust, 'O che festa!'—Sometimes (I am almost ashamed of telling you) I divert myself with putting my caps and hats on it, and please myself with the idea that it is very likeme—do not laugh and call me 'foolish child!' Now I dislike thatyoushould call me child; remember the day you receive this I shall be seventeen, so put on all your gravity and consider me with due respect."The menagerie is thriving; I visit our pets every day, and you will find them in finecondition when you return,—when will that be? I wish the time were come, don't you? Good night, good night, for there is no end to this writing. I must end. Again good night. Dearest Albert, I am, heart and soul, your own"Adeline Seymour."
"I think it a long time, dearest Albert, since I have heard from you. But then you are so busy, and have so many things to do; whereas I have nothing to do, but to count up minutes, days, and hours; yet this is so wrong, that Iblame myself even for thinking, much more for writing the thought; and would blot out the dissatisfied words, but that I promised you should know truly, and without disguise, what really passed in my mind.
"After what I heard good Mr. Adams preach last Sunday, how dare I wish to hurry on time, when I make so poor a use of it? Indeed, dear Albert, when I think seriously, I do not wish it; but when I feel that we are parted, and yield to that feeling, why then I am a wayward creature. Does not this prove, my dear Albert, how cautiously we ought to look into our hearts, since out of them are the issues of life? I will do so; I will try to do so, if God will help me; for it is only by this watching that I shall render myself at all worthy of you. Mamma said to me the other day:
"'My dear love, remember that marriage is a state necessarily imposing many duties, and accumulating many cares; this in its happiest instances must ever be the case; it is wisely ordered that it should be so. But it isa state honoured by God and man, and opens upon a wide field for self-improvement. If entered upon in this view, it brings with its pains many delights and consolations, both for this world and the next; but if it is engaged in rashly, merely for the purpose of running a more unchecked career, or for the unworthy purposes of aggrandizement in rank and fortune apart from nobler views, it never fails to produce disappointment, and it may be, disgust of life and endless misery.'
"What a terrible picture, my Albert! But I cannot conceive it possible that any body should marry from any motive but attachment, and therefore I can hardly persuade myself that any of these awful consequences are likely to attend on marriage; only my Bible shews me the insufficiency of all mere mortal trusts; and Mamma, I know, never says what she does not think is true; therefore I must try and prepare myself for becoming such a wife to you as will secure our mutual felicity. The little book we exchanged on the day you left us, I read morning and evening, and as soon asit is finished I begin it again; so when you are reading yours, you may be certain we are pronouncing the same words, thinking the same thoughts, lifting up our hearts together to the God who made us.
"How thankful we ought to be for good books; are they not messengers from heaven? And yet how we slight them. Often, when engaged in my morning's duty of reading, my wandering mind turns so frequently to drawing, to music, or any other exercise, that at length I have punished myself by determining not to have recourse to these recreations till I can moderate my ardour for them, and enjoy them only as recreations; theyought notto be more—all beyond is idolatry. I have of late, too, engaged myself in active duties among the poor around our neighbourhood; and my rides to their different habitations give me such additional health and spirits, that I am always ready to laugh at all Mr. Foley's silly jokes. My heart is so light, and I feel so happy—I see no end to all the diverting things I have in view, and some day or another when, pleaseGod, I am really your wife, all the schemes I form for the benefit of those within the circle of my influence will be fully realized.
"What an extended sphere of usefulness will then be mine, and oh! my Albert! what an awful responsibility too will then attach to my situation! I pray daily that I may be enabled to meet it as I ought. What I grudge most is, the time which I am now frequently forced to lose, in being civil to our dull neighbours here; and I do confess that to sit amused by Miss Grimsdale's side, while she talks over the last county ball, or to listen to old Lady Henniker's history of her ménage with becoming patience, is a trial for which no self-complacency in the idea, that I am making a sacrifice to oblige others, does in any degree compensate. But Mamma smiles when she hears me answeringtout a rebours, and sees my fingers entangling the silks, and tells me afterwards that we are not to live to ourselves, and that in fact to please others, when not neglecting, any positive duty, is a minor virtue. I am sure she is right—but, dear Albert,I feel on such occasions how difficult it is to be good! Mr. Foley, to whom I expressed myself thus the other day, told me, 'I talked a great deal of nonsense, though I was a very charming person altogether,' and ended by asking me seriously—'What wrong I thought it possible I could do, living as I did?' How ignorant he must be of the state of the human heart, not to know that our best efforts are faulty, our purest actions imperfect! I stared at him, and then attempted to explain to him that all our thoughts, words, and actions, are marked with inherent error. He stared at me in return, and, looking at me incredulously, asked 'do you really mean what you say?'
"'Most assuredly,' I replied; 'can any one mean otherwise?' Then he looked very grave indeed, sighed heavily, and said, 'it was a sad thing to see one so fair and young imbued with such false ideas—ideas which in the end would make me wretched.' I laughed, as I assured him that it was he that was deceived, and who would be wretched; that as for myself,I was the gayest, happiest creature upon earth; and all I had to dread was, loving the world too well, and seeing it in too fair a light. I had not a corner of my heart, I said, unoccupied, or a minute in the day unemployed; and besides that, my reliance upon God made me feel as if I never could be perfectly unhappy under any circumstances.
"But no sooner were these words uttered, than my heart smote me, for I thought ofyou, dear Albert, and suddenly a cloud seemed to pass over me, and my deceitful heart sickened at the thought of the possibility of losing you; and then I knew how ill I was prepared to yield that perfect obedience which we are called upon to yield to the will of heaven.—I believe my countenance betrayed somewhat of this self-condemning spirit, for Mr. Foley quickly asked, whilst fixing his searching eyes on mine, 'What, is therenothingwhich could make you miserable?' and I trembled, and blushed, and felt a tear of shame rise in my eye, as I answered:
"'Perhaps I deceive myself, and think ofmyself too highly. Perhaps—in short—at all events, I know that I amtryingso to feel, and so to think.' He laughed contemptuously, saying:
"'I guessed how it was—poor Lady Adeline! this false system is spreading fearfully indeed!' What could he mean? Mamma told me on my repeating to her this conversation, 'that to many persons Mr. Foley would be a dangerous man; but not to you, my child; and I have a love for that wayward creature, the son of the dearest friend I ever possessed, which makes me incline to overlook his faults, and hope that he will amend them. Who knows but the mode of life we lead may be the means of sowing some good seed in his heart? However, my dear child, encourage not his conversation on such points.' I believe Mamma is right, for notwithstanding my dislike of his irreligious tenets, he is so well-informed, and so very diverting, that I cannot help being entertained by him. And in many respects I assure you, Albert, he is a good man, and general report bespeaks him such. He isvery charitable; is kind to people in distress; and goes regularly to church, when he is with us—is not all this very unaccountable with his strange way of talking to me? I do not understand it, and indeed it is not worth thinking much about, one way or the other. Write to me, dear Albert, and tell me what your opinion is upon this subject. I wish in all things to conform to your wishes, and to model my opinion on yours: for I well know your excellent principles and unerring judgment. To-morrow, I allow myself to return to the delight of copying your dear bust, 'O che festa!'—Sometimes (I am almost ashamed of telling you) I divert myself with putting my caps and hats on it, and please myself with the idea that it is very likeme—do not laugh and call me 'foolish child!' Now I dislike thatyoushould call me child; remember the day you receive this I shall be seventeen, so put on all your gravity and consider me with due respect.
"The menagerie is thriving; I visit our pets every day, and you will find them in finecondition when you return,—when will that be? I wish the time were come, don't you? Good night, good night, for there is no end to this writing. I must end. Again good night. Dearest Albert, I am, heart and soul, your own
"Adeline Seymour."
"Sweet, pure Adeline!" cried Lord Albert, "how shall I answer this letter." He seized a pen, and in the first glow of fondness and admiration, which such a letter and such a portrait before him inspired, he filled two pages, not less tender or sincere than those which had been addressed to himself: when he was suddenly disturbed by hearing a bustle and violent clattering of horses in the street, and at the same time the voices of some of his own servants. This increasing, he rang the bell to inquire the cause, and no one answering, he at length opened the door of an apartment and called to the porter, asking what was the matter? He was answered, that a carriage had been overturned opposite his door, and it was wished to bring the lady whohad suffered from the accident into his Lordship's house.
"By all means, immediately," Lord Albert exclaimed; "afford every assistance possible;" and in a few instants a lady was borne in by two domestics. She was immediately placed, apparently insensible, on a couch in an adjoining apartment. The female attendants were summoned to her aid, and Lord Albert himself supported her head on his breast: "Good heavens!" he exclaimed, "it is Lady Hamlet Vernon! Send off directly for Doctor Meynell." A stream of blood flowed over her face, and in order to ascertain where she was wounded it was necessary to let down her hair, which fell in glossy masses over her neck and shoulders. The glass of the carriage window, against which Lady Hamlet Vernon had fallen, was the cause of the catastrophe; and though the injury was not found to be dangerous, the wound had been sufficiently severe to occasion a suffusion of blood. The physician soon arrived, and having examined the extent of the evil, applied remediesand administered restoratives to the terrified Lady Hamlet Vernon, who was shortly after restored to her senses, and enabled to explain the cause of her having met with so dangerous an accident.
"She was returning," she said, "from Sir William Temple's dinner-party, when her coachman, whom she supposed was intoxicated, drove furiously, and the carriage coming in contact with the curb-stone at the corner of the street, overturned, was dashed with violence against the pavement, and broken to pieces." This account was corroborated by her footmen, who had miraculously escaped unhurt. Lady Hamlet then expressed her thanks at having received such prompt and kind assistance, and Doctor Meynell having pronounced it as his opinion, that if she remained quiet for a few days, she would find no disagreeable effects result from the accident, and that she might with safety be removed to her own house, Lord Albert's carriage was ordered to convey her thither. "I am happy, indeed, to think it is thus," said Lord Albert; "andthat I have been of the least use is most gratifying to me."
This adventure, related in a few words, occupied an hour or more in its actual occurrence; and Lord Albert had had leisure to remark the symmetry of form and feature for which Lady Hamlet Vernon had been so long celebrated. He might have beheld Lady Hamlet for ever, rouged and dressed in public, and have passed her by unnoticed; but when he beheld her pale, dishevelled, in pain, and dependent on him at the moment for relief, he thought her exquisitely fair, and there entered a degree of romantic illusion in this accident which roused his fancy, while her sufferings touched the friendly feelings of his nature.
As he assisted her to her carriage, they passed through the room where he had been sitting previous to her arrival; the candles were still burning, and his papers lay in confusion around, the writing-box was open, in the lid of which was the portrait of Lady Adeline. Lady Hamlet Vernon pausing, complained ofa momentary feeling of faintness, and threw herself on a chair close to the writing-table; her eyes in an instant were rivetted on the picture, and at the same moment Lord Albert's hand closed it from her view. There was nothing that demanded secrecy in his possessing Lady Adeline's picture. His engagement to his cousin was generally known, and his having her portrait, therefore, was no offence against propriety; but every body who has loved will understand the feeling, that the sacredness of their heart's affections is broken in upon, if an indifferent or casual eye rest upon a treasure of the kind. Lady Hamlet Vernon spoke not, but her looks testified what they had seen; while he remained confused, and seemed glad when she proposed moving again to the carriage.
"I am afraid," she said, her voice trembling as she spoke, "I am afraid my accident has been the occasion of breaking in upon your retirement, and disturbing you out of a most delightful reverie. I shall regret this the moreif it makes you hate me altogether—but the fault was not mine."
"Hate you! Lady Hamlet Vernon—hatred and Lady Hamlet Vernon are two words that cannot by any accident be connected together."
"Ah! would that your words were as true as they are courteous," she replied mournfully; "but courtesies, alas!implyan interest that they do not mean. Do not, however, let me detain you, Lord Albert; it rains"— As he still lingered at the door of the carriage, which they had reached, and in which she now entered, he added, "You will at least give me leave to enquire for you to-morrow?" which was all he had time to say, as the carriage was driven rapidly away.
Lord Albert returned to his room, with a confusion of images chasing each other in such quick succession through his mind, that though he resumed his pen to finish his letter to Lady Adeline, he found it difficult to do so; and he was conscious that the few words which he added were in such a different tone, and solittle in keeping with the previous part, that he finished abruptly, and, folding and sealing his letter, closed the box that contained the miniature, and throwing himself back in his chair, mused in vacancy of thought till slumber was overpowering him. Without once adverting to Lady Adeline's book, he hastened to lose in sleep the feeling of dissatisfaction which had so suddenly possessed him.
On the following morning, when Lady Hamlet Vernon arose, feeling little of the accident of the preceding evening, and having taken particular pains with her toilette, she cast a glance of complacency at her reflected image in the mirror, and, descending to her boudoir, placed herself on a sofa, spread with embroidered cushions, folded a velvetcouvre-piedover her feet, ordered a table stored with books to be placed within her reach, on which also rested a guitar and a vase of flowers, and gave way to a train of reflections and feelings unaccountably called up by the occurrences of the previous evening. Lady Hamlet Vernon was a person who had read, and did read, attimes; but in the present instance, when calling for her books, she intended no farther use of them beyond casual allusion to their contents, and what their appearance might avail to give an interest in regard to herself.
She lay with her arm resting on a pillow, and her ears attentively listening to every cabriolet that passed, eagerly anticipating a visit from Lord Albert. She twice looked at her watch; once she struck it, to know if its sound answered to the hour its hand designated.—"Surely," she said, with some impatience, "he must at least inquire for me?—and it is late—late for a person of Lord Albert's early habit—it is really three o'clock." At that moment a short decided knock at the door roused her attention. Her hand was on the bell in an instant, lest the servants might deny her—but in another the door opened, andnotLord Albert, but the pale and melancholy Frank Ombre entered. The revulsion from pleasure to disappointment occasioned by the appearance of this visitor, and which displayed itself in Lady Hamlet Vernon's features, was ingeniouslyascribed by her to a sudden pain in her head, the consequence, she said, of her accident the preceding night; which accident she hastened to detail, and was gratified by the homage of regrets, most poetically expressed by Mr. Ombre, who remarked that the danger of this occurrence was transferred from herself to her admirers.
"The beautiful languor which it has cast over your person has produced a varied charm more inimical to our peace than even the lightning of your eyes. What a fortunate man that Lord Albert was, to be on the very spot to render you assistance! There are some persons, as we all know, who are born felicitous—they please without caring to please; they render services without thinking what they are doing, or even being interested in reality about the persons whom they serve; they are reckoned handsome without one regularly beautiful feature, and pronounced clever, superior, talented, without ever doing any thing to prove it. But in that, perhaps, lies their wisdom—onemay beevery thingso long as one never proves one's-selfnothing."
"True, there are such people in the world, I believe; but do you really mean to say"—(and she almost blushed.)
"I never mean, or can mean, to say any thing that is disagreeable to you"....
"Oh, it is not I who am interested in what heis, or isnot; but, to confess the truth, a very dear friend of mine, a charming young person, takes an interest in him, and I should like to know if he is worthy of that interest before her affections are further engaged."
"Ah! my dear Lady Hamlet Vernon," replied Mr. Ombre, "there is nobody like you—I always said so. You knowI never flatter; but you are so disinterested, always thinking about other people, always so kindly busy where you can be of any use; so unlike the world in general, in short, that it quite spoils one for living in it."
"Well, this is a point we shall not dispute about, my dear Mr. Ombre, only tell me whatyou know of Lord Albert D'Esterre? what are his tastes, his habits, his pursuits, his politics?"
"Of himself I can tell you little; with his father I was very intimate long ago, and I believe, somehow or other, people do always contrive to be like either father or mother, some time or another in their life. Of the father I could tell you, that there did not exist a more polished or high-bred man, a term which you know is not always justly applicable to persons of high rank; one very well versed in literature too, at least for the peerage in that day, and so long as he continued in public life, no one acted more to the general satisfaction of people than my Lord Tresyllian. Of the mother there is little to say, except that she was—nay is, for aught I know to the contrary—a very good sort of person; who was never known to make any noise, save once, in her life, and that certainly was not on a judicious occasion, for it was when the famous Bellina, the dancer, wasattachéeto the suite of her husband during his embassy at ——. Thenindeed Lady Tresyllian did make some very unadvised stir, and contrived that the whole court should remark upon the subject; but her husband, who was the most polite man in the world, as I have said before, represented to her the inutility of such conduct, pointed out how such a lady, and such a one, conducted herself in similar situations; stated that these sort of things always happened, and were only unpleasant when they were injudiciously managed, and in short the affair was amicably adjusted; an affair which happened so long ago, that it is only some old chroniclers like myself who have any recollection of it.
"After Lord Tresyllian's return to England, he continued to fill several official situations as long as his friends, or his party rather, as those are called who contrive to hang together for some interest,—their own or their country's, it matters not—continued in office—and on their retiring, his Lordship retired also: I suppose to preserve his consistency, or because his talents were not needed in the new arrangement. Since then, gout and disappointed ambitionhave contributed to make him a recluse from the busy world of fashion; and in the magnificence of his princely fortune, and in the society of a chosen few, who have shared his fate, or depended on his interest in their political career, his existence is now passed, settling the balance of Europe in his closet, opposing his Majesty's ministers (as long as they shall not include his own party) in the senate, and on every other occasion, and haranguing every assembly of disappointed patriots in his own county, of which he is lord lieutenant.
"Of Lord Tresyllian's patriotism I presume none doubt—of his judgment and good taste in politics, from the last-mentioned fact, while holding his present situation, perhaps there may be some question. But he has considerable parliamentary interest, and will therefore always have some who will think all he says or does right. His eldest son Osberton we all know follows in his father's line of opposition; glad, I dare say, to be saved the trouble of acting or thinking for himself. I need nottell you more of him—in short, there is nothing to tell, but his party. What Lord Albert D'Esterre's will be, remains to be proved; I mean in the only way people think a man's being any thing is of consequence, namely the part he will take in public life. He inherits wealth from Lady Tresyllian, and so far will be independent of his father; but he is too young, I should think, to escape the toils that will be laid for a young member, and therefore we shall soon see him engaged on one side or the other, as a tool of party. By the bye, what says Lady Tilney of him for that?" Here another knock announced another arrival, and Mr. Ombre rose to depart.
"Pray, my dear Mr. Ombre, do not run away; I should be so delighted if you would stay and help to keep the conversation alive, I am too weak to do any thing but listen. Indeed my poor head tells me that I ought not to do that."
"I would not stay a moment longer on any account—not for the world," was Mr. Ombre's reply, gently pressing her extended hand; "Iam sure I have talked too much already. Lord Albert D'Esterre," (for it was he who entered), "I request you will not be so agreeable as you usually are, for our fair friend feels the effect of her accident last night; and I am sure she ought not to be amused, unless being put to sleep be called amusement. If I were her nurse I would prescribe a quieting draught and bed, as to a tired child; and so I take my leave and give my advice without any fee: it is always the cheapest thing in the world you know;" and he went away at the very proper moment, having left behind him the character of being the most agreeable man in the world.
"I should have come sooner," said Lord Albert, "to inquire for you, Lady Hamlet Vernon, but I was afraid of being too early; and I really put a restraint on my wishes in not being at your door much sooner; for I was very anxious to know you had not suffered from the shock you received last night."
"I have suffered, certainly," she replied, blushing, "but not to any alarming degree; a day or two of confinement to my sofa, and Dr.Meynell assures me I shall be quite able to go about again as usual. In the mean time, here are my friends," pointing to the books, "who are ever at hand to entertain me."
"And surely," Lord D'Esterre replied, "there are a thousand living friends also, alike ready to endeavour to make the hours pass sweetly; nevertheless, I honour those who can be independent of society for entertainment."
Lady Hamlet Vernon saw she had guessed rightly, and went on to say, sighing as she spoke, "The fact is, that London crowds are not society, that the whole routine of a town life unsatisfactory; and that every circumstance, depending upon a mere pursuit of dissipation, is in itself necessarily an alienation, for the time at least in which we are engaged in it, from all our higher and better enjoyments; but then when one has lost all on whom one depended for comfort, and support, and advice; when one is left alone, a heart-broken thing upon the wide world, misjudged by some, condemned by many, flattered it may be by a few, there is such a stormy ocean, such a desert waste outspread to view, that the heart seeksrefuge from the alternative in a multitude of minor trifles, which leave no leisure to feel, still less to reflect; and hurrying on from hour to hour, one passes life away as chance directs."
Lady Hamlet Vernon did not know to whom she was speaking, or she would have spoken in a very different tone. She had heard of refinement and morality, she could even admire both; but to religious principle she was a stranger. She paused after having uttered the last words, and, looking in Lord Albert's countenance as she waited for a reply, read there a varying expression, the meaning of which she was at a loss to interpret. At last he spoke, and said with deep earnestness, which failed not to attract her attention, although she was not prepared to understand the import of his words:
"Is it possible! then I grieve for you indeed." As he uttered this brief sentence he took up a book, unconscious of what he was doing; and opening the title-page, read "Tremaine." Lady Hamlet Vernon had had recourse to her salts, to her handkerchief; and then, as if repressing her starting tears, sheasked, "What do you think of Tremaine?—is it not charming?—Do you know I have thought the hero was like you."
"I hope not; I would not be like that man on any account whatever."
"No!—and why?"
"Why, because I think false refinement the most wretched of human possessions; and all refinement is false which converts enjoyment to pain; nay, I deny that it is refinement; it is only the sophistry of a diseased mind, the excrescence of a beautiful plant; however, the work is a work of power, and its intention pure, though I do not think it free from danger. But tell me, Lady Hamlet Vernon—that is, will you give me leave to ask you a question?"
"Certainly."
"Did you ever read the third volume of Tremaine attentively through?" She blushed a genuine blush as she replied: "Not quite: I am afraid—I thought it heavy."
"You do not surprise me; the mind must come tutored to the page to enjoy it as it ought to be enjoyed; and perhaps the fault whichmight be found is precisely this, that those who would be most likely to read it, are those who would be least likely to benefit by its perusal."
"You certainly converse, Lord Albert," said Lady Hamlet Vernon, "very differently from any person I ever conversed with; your ideas are quite extraordinary to me, quite new, and you have made me lose myself in a world of thought; you make me feel that every thing I have hitherto thought was all mistake; but you must allow me to say, that, though willing to become your pupil, I must be somewhat instructed in this novel language before I feel myself competent to reply."
"What I said seems to me very simple; I am not conscious of having expressed any abstruse or recondite thoughts: at all events, I certainly did not mean to be affected, still less impertinent—it was something you said, which startled me, and made me feel concern, and it might seem to you, that I evinced it with too much freedom—if I have erred, pardon me."
"Pardon, my dear Lord! there is no question about pardoning; but I am curious to know what made you look so very grave whenI said I wished to forget my existence, and lose all sense of what had befallen me, or what might befall me, in the busy idleness of life—do you attach any very dreadful idea to this declaration?"
"A very dreadful one indeed," was his reply.
"Well, then, I do begin to believe that what I heard of you was true—you are one of the saints—I mean, one of the set of people who go about preaching and praying all day long. But then you frequent balls and assemblies, and are so charming, I cannot reconcile this idea with your air, appearance, and demeanour, or with the character of those sour, misanthropic beings: do explain to me this mystery."
"I wish I were one of those whom you so designate," said Lord Albert D'Esterre gravely,—"but indeed I am far from being so. All I can say to explain my meaning briefly is, that I have received a Christian and religious education, and consequently that I think to live by chance, and to let accident sway our actions, is a perilous state of delusion."
"What do you mean to say, Lord Albert, that you regulate all your thoughts, words, and actions, by some strictly self-drawn line of rule?"
"Oh, Lady Hamlet Vernon, you probe my conscience, and I am thankful to you: no, indeed, I have never yet been enabled so to do—but I wish I could—not indeed by any self-drawn line or rule, but that by which all ought to guide themselves."
"Well, at last I have met with one extraordinary person, and this our conversation must be resumed; but here comes some unwelcome visitor, and for the moment the subject must drop."
The conversation was interrupted by the announcement of Mr. Temple Vernon. He has been already noticed as the object of Lady Tilney's particular dislike from his independent, and, as she termed it, rude freedom of character, and he must have been unpopular in a coterie where studied deportment and total absence of all nature formed a requisite merit for admission. But he was nearly allied by marriage to Lady HamletVernon, having inherited that portion of her late husband, Lord Hamlet Vernon's property, which was not bequeathed to herself. He was first cousin of the late Lord also, and Lady Hamlet Vernon's jointure being paid from estates that devolved to him, she had been condemned to keep up an intercourse which, under existing circumstances of hismauvaise odeur, in her particular circle, she would gladly have dispensed with. She however endeavoured to maintain that kind of friendly intercourse with him, which would prevent any thing like collision in matters where her own interest was concerned, and with this view preferred exposing herself to harsh remarks from Lady Tilney and others of the society, as to his admission into her house. "Ah, Mr. Vernon, is it you," said Lady Hamlet Vernon to him as he entered; "I hope I see you well?"
"Allow me rather to inquire, Lady Hamlet Vernon, about yourself; I have made adétourof at least two miles to satisfy my anxiety concerning you all. London is ringing with the terrible accident which befel you last night.Pray tell me all the particulars, and tell me too who was the fortunate knight-errant that rendered you assistance?" Lady Hamlet made an inclination of her head towards Lord Albert D'Esterre.
"Ah! is it so? well, he looks as if he were made for adventures," directing his glance towards Lord Albert. "Now, though I, poor devil that I am, desire no happier chance, I may drive about all day or night and no such good fortune ever betide me as delivering a lady from a perilous accident—really, Lord Albert, I congratulate you." Lord Albert bowed, as he replied,
"I am exceedingly happy that my servants were of any use; but indeed I had not the good fortune you ascribe to me: for I was sitting occupied in my library, and wholly unconscious of what passed in the street, till Lady Hamlet Vernon was brought into the house."
"Indeed, is it so? well, I have heard it said through the whole town, that Lady Hamlet Vernon's horses ran away, that the coachman was dashed from his box, and that somepreuxchevalierhad seized the horses in their course, and though nearly annihilated himself, had succeeded in his desperate efforts to stop them; whereas I am happy to see my Lord is safe and sound. Lady Hamlet, I rejoice to find very little the worse, and the long paragraph in the Morning Post all a lie. Well, there is only one thing to be done under these circumstances, which is to set the story right by a counter-statement, and therefore pray do tell me all the particulars."
Lady Hamlet Vernon smiled, with constrained complacency, saying, "you may tell the fact, Mr. Vernon, if you chuse to take the trouble, which is simply this;—that on returning home my coachman was drunk, and upset my carriage; and the accident happened close to Lord Albert D'Esterre's door, so that I was borne into his house, and received there every kind attention."
"But," enquired Mr. Temple Vernon, who had listened with evident eagerness to the recital, "where were you going?—whence were you coming?—for all these particulars are of importance."
"Oh! home."
"Good heavens, home! and at the early hour of twelve?"
"Yes."
"But where were you coming from?"
"Oh! we had been dining at Sir William Temple's."
"Ah, and is that really so? was all that Temple said at the clubs yesterday morning really true? Did you, and the Tilney, and the Leinsengen, and I don't know who else, dine with him? Well, that is really too good—why no room in London will hold Temple after this. He was always insufferable, even before he was promoted in the world; and now that affairs have taken this favourable turn, heaven knows what he will become; why he'll burst like the frog in the fable. But I am very sorry, for his dinners were good dinners in their way; now, however, they will be intolerable, for they will consist in every course ofréchauffésof what Lady Tilney admired, or did, or said—do tell me how the affair went off."
"Indeed, Mr. Temple Vernon, I cannot talkmore to-day; rather I pray you tell me some news—how did the D'Hermanton's party end?"
"Well then, if you so command it, let us turn to my note book"—affecting to read, as he counted over his fingers, "Lady Tilney wasnotat the Duchess of D'Hermanton's; Lady Ellersbywas, but only walked through the apartments; Lady Boileau went no further than the first room; item, Mr. Pierpoint did not either; neither did Comtesse Leinsengen, who sat all the evening by Lord Baskerville, but spoke little; the Duke of Mercington only shewed his waistcoat, and then departed: all of which I hold to be signs that portend dark doings in the court of Denmark. Now this I think is a correctrésumeof the Hermanton 'at home.' As to the politics of the last evening, it is confidently stated that the Duke of —— has some famous bird-lime, called expediency, which will catch a vast number of young birds," turning at the same time to Lord Albert, "is it not so, my Lord?"
"Mr. Temple Vernon seems so perfectly master of every body's intentions and affairs,that I scarcely know, in his presence, whether or not I am master of my own."
"The fact is, my good Lord, that nobody knows what they are going to do (if they will only confess the truth) for two minutes together."
"In one sense that is true enough, Mr. Temple Vernon, for we intend many things which we never do, andvice versâ; nevertheless our will is free, and fortunately not always under the direction of others to guide it for us."
"Oh! this is becoming too deep for me," interrupted Lady Hamlet Vernon.
"And for me too," replied Mr. Temple Vernon, "as I have a thousand things to do before seven, and it is now past four o'clock; however I leave Lady Hamlet Vernon with less regret, knowing she has so entertaining a companion as Lord D'Esterre." This was said very ironically, and as the latter quickly perceived all the monkey malice of the man, he disarmed it of its sting by rising to depart, saying:
"Lady Hamlet Vernon has far more entertaining companions lying on her table, than are generally to be met with among Londonidlers; and not to prove myself one of these, I must make my bow without further delay, trusting soon to have the pleasure of seeing her once more, in the gay scenes in which she is so fair an ornament;" and again bowing to Mr. Temple Vernon, he departed before the latter could leave the room.
"Well, my dear Lady, you owe me something, I am sure, for having rid you from the presence of that formal personage." Lady Hamlet Vernon did not look as if she agreed with him, but forced a smile as she replied:
"I like variety in character and manners; the world would grow dull, if every one were cut out on the same pattern."
"I am glad to hear you say that, my dear Lady Hamlet Vernon, for that is exactly what I think; and, therefore, I have always held off from the tyranny, which goes to make every body subscribe to the same code in manners, dress, hours, nay even language; and at least, my coat, my neckcloth, my hair, is all after a cut of my own, and I find all does vastly well; for if the world does not approve the one or like the other, they are at least afraid of me, becauseI think for myself. This answers my purpose precisely as well. But you look serious, I see, and therefore I will follow my Lord Albert D'Esterre's inimitable example, and leaving my last sentence in the tablets of your memory, farewell, most fair and fascinating lady. One word more I beg to add, remember that I wish exceedingly to go to Lady Tilney's next Friday, and I leave my wish in the hands of the kindest and fairest of the daughters of Eve. Idependupon your managing it for me."
"Oh! certainly, nothing is easier you know, you are alwaysle bien venu, I wonder that you can make this request a favour."
"Ah! all that is very well from your lips, but you know, although I am the most admired man about town, I am sometimes by some chance forgotten. It is very odd that it should be so, but nevertheless it is often unjustly the case; and I correct fortune by such applications as the one I have just made to you; and nowje vous baise les mainsin the D'Esterre phraseology, though I would much rather do so in reality, and so farewell most fair."
"Depend upon me," replied Lady Hamlet Vernon, kissing her hand to him as he left the room. "Depend upon my hating you most cordially," she said to herself; as her head sank on the pillow of her sofa, and she tried to shut out from her recollection all his ill-timedbavardage, and to recal the strange but eloquent converse of the interesting Lord D'Esterre.
LadyHamlet Vernon, in consequence of her recent accident, received society at home instead of seeking it abroad; and for several evenings theéliteofton, passed theirprima seraat her house. Lord Albert D'Esterre was constant too in his attendance there, and was evidently much occupied with Lady Hamlet Vernon. His attentions did not escape remark, and though Lady Tilney's object, in wishing to possess an influence over Lord Albert, was quite of another nature, still she felt some disappointment at finding he was interested in another quarter, and therefore less likely to yield to the designs which she had formed upon his political independence.
"I'll tell you how that matter stands," replied Lord Rainham, as she inquired his opinion on the subject, "theloveis at present entirely on the lady's side; Lord Albert is notat all captive, and he has such obsolete ways of thinking, that I imagine he will not be easily caught. I should recommend his being given up altogether, he will never play a part among us, depend upon that; and you will not find him worth the trouble of educating."
"Oh! as to playing a part, my dear Lord, one does not want every body to play a part, at least not afirstpart you know; and as foreducatingthem, that is quite out of the question."
"But," rejoined Lord Rainham, "you forget there is such a thing as persuasion; and it is said D'Esterre took his seat on the side of ministers by some means of that sort. Now it is possible, that although noliaison de cœurexists between him and Lady Hamlet Vernon, yet as a clever woman, she may have decided his vacillating judgment; to say the truth, I believe she has." Lady Tilney bit her lip, and something like the word provoking, escaped her, as she replied, "I would scorn to persuade any body to any thing against his will; there is nothing I have ever maintained more strenuously, than that every individualshould have a free choice in all the different elections of life." Lord Rainham smiled. "But after all," she added with an affected indifference, by which she attempted ineffectually to conceal her mortification, "it is of very little importance which side Lord Albert has taken."
"One would have thought so indeed but for the disappointment which is evident since he has declared himself," replied Lord Rainham, drily.
However much Lady Tilney felt chagrined at the thought that another had succeeded in turning Lord Albert's mind in a direction contrary to her wishes, yet she was too politic to betray her disappointment to the person who had triumphed; and therefore, on the evening in question, she paid more than usual attention to Lady Hamlet Vernon.
"Dear Lady Hamlet Vernon," said Lady Tilney addressing her, as she took a seat by her, "you must not pretend to be ill any longer, we positively cannot do without you;" and then turning to Comtesse Leinsengen, sheadded, "did you ever see any thing to equal the beauty of her fairy foot?"
This was a sore subject, as the reverse of the proposition always suggested itself to the Comtesse's fancy, in respect of her own; and she pretended on the present occasion not to hear it, but tossing up her head, took Lady Baskerville's arm, who was sitting on the other side of her, and whispered in her ear, "Lady Tilney does take suchengouements, and then is as quickly tired of them,des feus de pailles," shrugging her shoulders contemptuously; "but I wonder sheliketo dat old story of her admiration for feet, when she made herself so very ridiculous in her affected praises of datsoi-disantprincesse. De lady who professes to worship liberty, independence, and all dat sort of ting, to sit holding anoder woman's foot upon her knee, and making all dat sort of fuss, for my part,je n'ai jamais pu conçevoir ce plaisir là."
"It does seem to me rather extraordinary," replied Lady Baskerville; "but then Lady Tilney is so very good-humoured, she always protects every body she thinks putdown or in distress." This was a prudent answer on Lady Baskerville's part, but not well received, which on perceiving, she quickly added:
"As to myself, I confess I do not take any pleasure in those sort of out-of-the-way admirations; I can admire beauty in other women; but I cannot affect to be so exceedingly enchanted by it as to turnfille de chambrein its honour. But there are many things in the world vastly ridiculous; for instance, can any thing be more so in its way than that Duke and Duchess D'Hermanton, who have been married I don't know how long, and are stillaux premiers amours; one sees them eternally dawdling about together, as if persons came into company to be always setting a pattern of conjugal felicity. It is pardonable, perhaps, for very young people, during a few months to fancy themselves vastly in love; but after that time it is sickening—don't you think so, Comtesse?"
"Oui, vraiment;au resteit is only in dis country that people do give themselves suchridicule, and to say truth, not often, even here."
"But pardon me, Comtesse," said Lady Baskerville, withdrawing from her; "I must go away, for I see Lord Boileau waiting for me, whom I had promised to take to Almack's, and had nearly forgotten;" so saying she passed into an adjoining room, and addressing him said:
"Lord Boileau we are very late, and if we do not make haste we shall be shut out."
"Oh, no—allthatis left out of the evening's entertainment, I can assure you, for they begin to be afraid that nobody will go in, though the doors are left wide open all night."
"I am not surprised, for I hate the whole thing, and think it is become quite detestable, only I promised Lady Aveling to go to-night, so if you are ready let us begone;—but I have not made my curtsey to Lady Hamlet."
"Indeed, Lady Baskerville, you may spare yourself that trouble, if you mean to be agreeable, for do you not see she is enamouredpardessus les yeuxwiththatLord Albert D'Esterre."
"Ah," rejoined Lady Baskerville, looking in the direction where they sat, "is it so? Well, every one has her taste; but I cannot say such a person would ever touch my heart."
"Oh!yourheart we all know is assailable butby one, and that Baskerville is the man, the most to be envied in all the world; to be sure there never wassucha wife as you are, quite perfect, Lady Baskerville, only too perfect." Lady Baskerville cast back her head, and looking at Lord Boileau with one of herintelligentsmiles, they passed on, and stepping into the carriage, drove off to finish their evening amusements in the insipid glitter of an Almack's ball.
After the lapse of some weeks Lady Hamlet Vernon was completely restored to health and beauty, and again resumed her usual routine of existence. She sought dissipation at all times eagerly, from habit; but now there was added to this impulse a restlessness of feeling, an anxiety if alone, and a void in her heart, from the evening in which her accident happened, such as she had never before experienced. It was in vain for her to conceal from herself, that she had perhapshithertounconsciously courted the society of Lord Albert D'Esterre more than of any other person, without considering how far she was yielding to the gratificationconsistently with any probable chance of happiness to herself in the ultimate issue. She certainly had a decided preference for Lord Albert D'Esterre, or why did she seek every opportunity of seeing him; or why feel uneasy when she heard of his acknowledged affiance to another? These feelings prompted her to know more of the appearance and character of his intended bride, whom circumstances had as yet prevented from appearing in the great world of London, and to whom she was an utter stranger.
Under this influence, she determined to address a letter to one with whom she was in the habit of corresponding, and whom she knew to be on a visit to Dunmelraise, the seat of Lady Adeline's mother. She felt confident that she might take this step without compromising herself, and without her inquiries being deemed strange, or indicative of any thing beyond a natural curiosity. Shortly after this letter had been written, the following reply came from her friend, Mr. G. Foley; the contents of which were not at all calculated to tranquillize Lady Hamlet Vernon's feelings,if she really had any affection for Lord Albert.
Letter from Mr. Foley to Lady Hamlet Vernon.
"When one is not to write of that which one is thinking about, it is the most difficult thing in the world to write at all. But you command, and I must endeavour to obey. Let me see how am I to commence? Perhaps it is best that I do so by giving youthe history, as one young lady writing to another would say, of the Lady Adeline Seymour. You know that Lady Dunmelraise, her mother, lost her husband and an only son soon after Lady Adeline's birth; she then fell into low spirits and bad health, but by degrees roused herself to live for this child; and I must do her the justice to say, she has fulfilled her task admirably."As to personal appearance, Lady Adeline Seymour is of that height which just escapes being too tall; of that slimness which just escapes being too thin; of that untutored manner which is often nearly beinggauche, wereit not that it is accompanied by a childish grace which evades the charge. Quick of perception, and quicker still in feeling, she has a peculiar way of checking these impulses so as never to allow them to betray her into any unbecoming harshness or abruptness of manner; the very fear one entertains that she may overstep the boundary of polishedrétenugives an additional zest to her, butgare a ceux qui voudroit l'imiter—for she is perfectly original and defies all copyists. As to her face it is not marvellously beautiful, still less regularly so, but it is of such love-like paleness, chased by such sunny gleams of joyous youth continually playing over her features, that one could not wish it changed even for a more regular beauty. She is the very model of the poet's dream when he wrote—----'Her pure and eloquent bloodSpoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought,That one would almost say her body thought.'"Thus much for Lady Adeline's appearance and manners. In regard to the acquirements and endowments of her mental being, I am perhaps not myself qualified to speak—she is not precisely what the laborious educatingmammas would call accomplished, but she has a master genius foroneart and a love for all. Her musical talent certainly requires much instruction to bring it to any perfection, but the scraps of airs she warbles as she flies about the house, are in the best taste as far as they go—and a few Venetian ballads which she sings to her guitar, and which she says her cousin taught her, are quite inebriating."She unfeignedly undervalues all she does; perhaps too much so; but you read in her countenance that she is perfectly sincere; that allspokenpraise distresses her; and you are involuntarily led to seek to give her homage in some more palatable shape."What do you think of this portrait of the young Adeline? It looks like that of a heroine in romance, as I glance my eyes over the words, and yet I have such a nausea at all the persons bearing that designation, that I would fain save the delightful one of whom I am writing from that hacknied name. You must have heard, of course, that she is engaged to her cousin Lord Albert D'Esterre; but likeall those engagements made for people when they are children, I do not think it will be fulfilledcon amore—not but what she blushes whenever she speaks of him, andthatshe does pretty frequently; and if he is grown up like a certain bust (for I have not seen him these three years, and boys change so from eighteen to one and twenty), he really must beun bel Giovane. By the way, she has made an exquisite drawing ofmon beau cousin, but that is neither here nor there, the fiction of seventeen is always beautiful. Pray in your next gracious letter inform me what sort of man he has become, for I feel a brotherly regard for this very nice person, Lady Adeline Seymour, and should like to think she had a chance of happiness. Happiness, what a sound! but the reality, where is it?'Come L'Araba FenicèChe ci sia, ciascun lo dicèDove sia, nessun lo sà.'"I should have told you, by the bye, that with all the gaiety, which is one of her greatest charms, Lady Adeline has a tincture of seriousness mingled with it, which some mightsuppose approached to Methodism; but even if it is so,à son age elle en guérira."I have been a long time here: but it has been a great gratification to me, and time has glided softly by; for in addition to the charms of the daughter, Lady Dunmelraise is in all respects a very agreeable and sensible woman, has seen a great deal of the world, and besides all that, honours your humble servant with her very particular regard; which she tells me is bestowed entirely for the sake of my mother, the friend whom she loved most in the world next to her own family; but I am vain enough to flatter myself that she likes me a little for mine own sake too. And you, who understand every thingà demi mot, will know how soothing it is to a sick heart to receive kindness; this has induced me hitherto to linger on from day to day; but I shall vary the scene soon, for I begin to think that even I may bede trop; for I hear frequent mention made of Lord Albert D'Esterre's expected arrival; so to-morrow I set off for Luryddicath Park. Lord Tresyllian's; who, you know, is father to Lord Albert."And now, my dear Lady Hamlet Vernon, having given you the particulars you required, I will not weary you with more of myself: but in pity to me, seeing that I am still for a time cut off from that only tolerable place in England, London, do write me a brief, gracious missive, that I may feast upon it till I am once more restored to your presence, and in the mean while believe me to be the most devoted of your slaves. Can I say more?"G. Foley."
"When one is not to write of that which one is thinking about, it is the most difficult thing in the world to write at all. But you command, and I must endeavour to obey. Let me see how am I to commence? Perhaps it is best that I do so by giving youthe history, as one young lady writing to another would say, of the Lady Adeline Seymour. You know that Lady Dunmelraise, her mother, lost her husband and an only son soon after Lady Adeline's birth; she then fell into low spirits and bad health, but by degrees roused herself to live for this child; and I must do her the justice to say, she has fulfilled her task admirably.
"As to personal appearance, Lady Adeline Seymour is of that height which just escapes being too tall; of that slimness which just escapes being too thin; of that untutored manner which is often nearly beinggauche, wereit not that it is accompanied by a childish grace which evades the charge. Quick of perception, and quicker still in feeling, she has a peculiar way of checking these impulses so as never to allow them to betray her into any unbecoming harshness or abruptness of manner; the very fear one entertains that she may overstep the boundary of polishedrétenugives an additional zest to her, butgare a ceux qui voudroit l'imiter—for she is perfectly original and defies all copyists. As to her face it is not marvellously beautiful, still less regularly so, but it is of such love-like paleness, chased by such sunny gleams of joyous youth continually playing over her features, that one could not wish it changed even for a more regular beauty. She is the very model of the poet's dream when he wrote—
----'Her pure and eloquent bloodSpoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought,That one would almost say her body thought.'
----'Her pure and eloquent bloodSpoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought,That one would almost say her body thought.'
"Thus much for Lady Adeline's appearance and manners. In regard to the acquirements and endowments of her mental being, I am perhaps not myself qualified to speak—she is not precisely what the laborious educatingmammas would call accomplished, but she has a master genius foroneart and a love for all. Her musical talent certainly requires much instruction to bring it to any perfection, but the scraps of airs she warbles as she flies about the house, are in the best taste as far as they go—and a few Venetian ballads which she sings to her guitar, and which she says her cousin taught her, are quite inebriating.
"She unfeignedly undervalues all she does; perhaps too much so; but you read in her countenance that she is perfectly sincere; that allspokenpraise distresses her; and you are involuntarily led to seek to give her homage in some more palatable shape.
"What do you think of this portrait of the young Adeline? It looks like that of a heroine in romance, as I glance my eyes over the words, and yet I have such a nausea at all the persons bearing that designation, that I would fain save the delightful one of whom I am writing from that hacknied name. You must have heard, of course, that she is engaged to her cousin Lord Albert D'Esterre; but likeall those engagements made for people when they are children, I do not think it will be fulfilledcon amore—not but what she blushes whenever she speaks of him, andthatshe does pretty frequently; and if he is grown up like a certain bust (for I have not seen him these three years, and boys change so from eighteen to one and twenty), he really must beun bel Giovane. By the way, she has made an exquisite drawing ofmon beau cousin, but that is neither here nor there, the fiction of seventeen is always beautiful. Pray in your next gracious letter inform me what sort of man he has become, for I feel a brotherly regard for this very nice person, Lady Adeline Seymour, and should like to think she had a chance of happiness. Happiness, what a sound! but the reality, where is it?
'Come L'Araba FenicèChe ci sia, ciascun lo dicèDove sia, nessun lo sà.'
'Come L'Araba FenicèChe ci sia, ciascun lo dicèDove sia, nessun lo sà.'
"I should have told you, by the bye, that with all the gaiety, which is one of her greatest charms, Lady Adeline has a tincture of seriousness mingled with it, which some mightsuppose approached to Methodism; but even if it is so,à son age elle en guérira.
"I have been a long time here: but it has been a great gratification to me, and time has glided softly by; for in addition to the charms of the daughter, Lady Dunmelraise is in all respects a very agreeable and sensible woman, has seen a great deal of the world, and besides all that, honours your humble servant with her very particular regard; which she tells me is bestowed entirely for the sake of my mother, the friend whom she loved most in the world next to her own family; but I am vain enough to flatter myself that she likes me a little for mine own sake too. And you, who understand every thingà demi mot, will know how soothing it is to a sick heart to receive kindness; this has induced me hitherto to linger on from day to day; but I shall vary the scene soon, for I begin to think that even I may bede trop; for I hear frequent mention made of Lord Albert D'Esterre's expected arrival; so to-morrow I set off for Luryddicath Park. Lord Tresyllian's; who, you know, is father to Lord Albert.
"And now, my dear Lady Hamlet Vernon, having given you the particulars you required, I will not weary you with more of myself: but in pity to me, seeing that I am still for a time cut off from that only tolerable place in England, London, do write me a brief, gracious missive, that I may feast upon it till I am once more restored to your presence, and in the mean while believe me to be the most devoted of your slaves. Can I say more?
"G. Foley."
Lady Hamlet Vernon, after perusing this letter, fell into a deep train of reflection, if such can be called intense feeling usurping the mind, to the exclusion of every other idea. The image of Lady Adeline, thus vividly pourtrayed by Mr. Foley's pen, stood in actual presence before her; and combined with that image, rose the vision of Lord Albert D'Esterre. The happiness which would be the growth of an union between two such persons as her knowledge of the one, and her fancied knowledge of the other, represented them, was embodied with forcible reality, and tears coursed each other involuntarily down her cheeks asshe sat, more like a marble image than a living being.
From this state she was suddenly roused by the servants announcing Lord Albert D'Esterre himself; and making an effort to subdue the feeling which either she was too much ashamed, or too proud to own, she endeavoured to receive him with as much composure as she could assume. After the first words of course had passed, Lady Hamlet Vernon was too deeply absorbed in one subject for her readily to turn to any indifferent topic; and she at length addressed Lord Albert on the subject of her solicitude, saying, "Do you know I have received a letter this morning full of the praises of a person, in whom I believe you are much interested; it is from a friend of mine now staying at Dunmelraise, and who draws such a picture of the charms of Lady Adeline Seymour, that I wonder, Lord Albert, to see you here—but you are going to Dunmelraise, are you not, immediately?" Her tears almost flowed afresh as she pronounced these words; and unconsciously she cast a look of tender intreaty on Lord Albert. The latter had involuntarilystarted, coloured, and hesitated to reply to this unexpected question; at length he answered:
"No, not immediately; I am unable to leave town yet."
"You are not in love," Lady Hamlet Vernon exclaimed, "no, you arenotin love with Lady Adeline Seymour—I read your heart in the measured calmness of your words; she isnotthe mistress of your affections."
The sentence seemed to have escaped Lady Hamlet Vernon's lips without the power of control, in a moment of excitement; and her eyes, which had been fixed on Lord Albert, now as suddenly fell beneath his gaze as he exclaimed with astonishment,
"What can you mean, whatdoyou mean, Lady Hamlet Vernon?" At that moment Lady Tilney was announced, and a minute after Lord Gascoigne. Conversation became general; but Lord Albert, evidently labouring under some painful feeling, took no part in it. Still he seemed determined to remain, to await the departure of the others, when Lady Tilney proposed to Lady Hamlet Vernon toaccompany her to the Park; and the latter, fearing that she had compromised herself in the too open expression of her feelings relative to Lord Albert and Lady Adeline Seymour, availed herself of the opportunity to avoid any renewal of the theme. With a heart ill at ease, she prepared to attend Lady Tilney to the dazzling throng of Hyde Park; while Lord Albert, seeing it was vain to look for any explanation of Lady Hamlet Vernon's extraordinary address to him at the moment, reluctantly handed her to Lady Tilney's carriage; and, trusting to some future opportunity to ask an explanation, he mounted his horse and rode off; but not with a mind so tranquil or a heart so buoyant as he had possessed a short time before.
In proposing to take Lady Hamlet Vernon to the Park, Lady Tilney's real object was to withdraw her from Lord Albert, whose anxiety had not escaped her observation, and whose political career she still had hopes might not be positively decided; at any rate, if hope remained, it was worth the trial; and shouldshe have been correct in her idea that Lord Albert had not committed himself irrevocably, no time was to be lost; that very moment perhaps he waited only the voice of Lady Hamlet's influence, to decide his wavering intentions. Lady Tilney's part was therefore quickly taken; and as they proceeded to the Park, she endeavoured to turn Lady Hamlet Vernon's mind from Lord Albert, if he really occupied any share in it, by adverting to every topic of the day; among other things she said:
"What do you think! Miss Melcomb's marriage with Lord Glenmore is at length declared. I had long had my suspicions that it would be so; but I cannot say I approve of the affair; and I am sure you will think with me, Lord Glenmore is too great a card to be played by that little miss, who has never left her mamma's wing; and has, of course, imbibed all her prejudices. But although Lord Glenmore has allied himself with this family, we must not wholly give him up; besides the Georgina is pretty, and she may yet not prove quite such a simpleton as she looks." Lady Tilney, however, in vain endeavoured to interestLady Hamlet Vernon in any subject she discussed; the former acquiesced in every thing her companion said, in order to avoid the argument which would have followed any dissent from her opinion. Lady Hamlet Vernon's remarks, when she made any, were short, and little to the purpose; and at length, wearied and ill at ease, she complained of a head-ache, and besought Lady Tilney to set her down at home.
When the carriage-door closed, Lady Tilney flung herself back, exclaiming as she drew up the glass, "How provokingly discreet, she did not once commit herself!" and Lady Tilney drove once more back to the Park, in the hope of seeing Lord Albert; and if possible, by courting his attention, of counteracting any influence which might have been exercised on his opinion by Lady Hamlet Vernon. She looked, however, in vain for him in the crowd; and at length drove home, disappointed and displeased at her want of success, and out of humour with every thing.