AfterLord Albert had parted with his friend in the Park, he returned again to Lady Dunmelraise's house; but still in vain—they came not. The agony of suspense, when prolonged, is perhaps the severest which the human mind can know; but like all chastisements or corrections, it is never sent without a meaning, and if entertained as it is mercifully intended it should be, we shall reap the fruits of the trial.
In the present case, Lord Albert's disappointment brought back a livelier sense of the attachment he really felt for Lady Adeline, and awoke all those tender fears and reminiscences which cherish love, but which a too great security of possession had for the present blunted, or at least laid in abeyance.He now wondered how he could have suffered so much time to elapse without writing to her. He wondered, too, that he had not heard from her; she had not then missed the blank in his part of the correspondence; and it was evident some other interest had supplied that one in her heart.—He looked at her picture, as if he could read in that image an answer to these various surmises; but it was placid, and serene—it smiled as was her wont, and he felt displeased at the senseless portrait, for an expression which he could not have borne her to wear, had she really known what his fears and feelings were. He shut the case and pushed it from him;—he felt angry—and then ashamed—for conscience goaded him with its sting, and in turn questioned him, as to his right of indulging one such sensation againsther, whom in fact he knew he had neglected: but all this process of mental analization was salutary, and as he came by degrees to know himself better, he was enabled to forma truer estimation, not only of the amiable person to whom he was bound by every tie of honour, but of the true nature of real worth.
At length, on the fourth morning from that on which he met Lord Glenmore, he found in North Audley Street a note from Lady Adeline. "A note only!" he said, hastily breaking the seal. It was written from an inn on the road; it informed him that Lady Dunmelraise had borne the journey very ill, which had occasioned them to stop frequently; but that they would reach town she hoped on the following evening. Lord Albert turned quickly to the date, and found that it was of the preceding day, so that he might expect their arrival that very evening. A gleam of delightful anticipation now shed joy over his heart. We easily gloss over our own faults; and Lord Albert found all his self-reproaches for neglect and temporary coldness merged in the fondness he actually felt at that moment, and his present determination to abideby, and act upon this feeling, silenced all self-accusation. With a beating pulse, and an emotion he did not wish to quell, he determined on not leaving the house till he should once more have seenhisAdeline.
He seated himself, therefore, in the drawing-room, and gave a loose to those pleasurable sensations which now flowed in upon him. The apartment had been prepared for Lady Dunmelraise, and all the usual objects in her own and her daughter's occupations were set in their wonted places. He recognized with transport a thousand trifling circumstances connected with them, which brought his love, hisownlove, more vividly before his eyes. As he carefully enumerated and dwelt upon these, his eyes rested on a vacant space in the wall near the piano-forte, where a drawing of himself had hung; and the enchanting thought that it had been her companion in the country, came in aid of all the rest to soften and gladden every sensation of his heart. As his eyes wandered over theapartment in quest of fresh food for delight, they rested on a parcel of papers, and letters, lying on the writing table. He turned them over, hardly knowing why he did so, when a frank from Restormel, directed to Lady Adeline Seymour, gave him an unpleasant shock, and he dropped it with a sudden revulsion of sensation that was any thing but gentle.
He again resumed the letter, turned it round and round, looked at the seal—it was a coat of arms, but the motto, "for life," was a peculiar one. He wondered to what family it belonged; he thought of consulting some heraldic work in order to discover, when the sound of a heavy laden carriage passing in the street, drew off his attention. He flew to the window—it was a family coach, but one glance told him it was not that of Lady Dunmelraise. Back he came to the letter table; againthe letterwas before his eyes—the letter, for amongst many he saw but one.
"It is surprising," he said to himself, "thatAdeline should have a correspondent at Restormel, and I not know of it; but shortly, very shortly, this mystery shall be solved. I will ask her at once—but carelessly, naturally, who is her unknown friend at Restormel? Ask her? no, she will of course tell me, if she has formed any new acquaintance with whom she is sufficiently intimate to correspond, and if she does not of herself tell me, I shall neverinquireinto the matter—indeed why should I? No, there is nothing renders a man so silly as jealousy, or throws him so much in a woman's power as letting her see he is jealous."
With these, and many such contradictory reasonings as these, did Lord Albert continue to pace the room along and across, and every now and then stop and fix his eyes on the offending letter; when again a sound attracted him to the window, and though it was dusk, and objects were indistinctly seen at a distance, he recognized the well-known equipage. The next moment he was in the street; and thenext it drove up to the door. He heard Lady Adeline's soft voice cry out, "There's Albert!" as she half turned to her mother, and kept kissing her hand to himself. The carriage door was opened, and she sprang out, receiving the pressure of his hand with an answering expression of fondness.
"Dear Albert, how do you do? have you not thought we were an age on the road? But I hope you received my note." Ere he could reply, Lady Dunmelraise's extended hand was cordially presented to him, and as affectionately taken; and while each rested on his arm on entering the house, he felt in the kindly pressure of both that he was as welcome to them as ever.
When he had assisted Lady Dunmelraise, who moved feebly, to the drawing-room, and placed her pillows on the couch, even in this moment of joyous re-union, he could not fail to observe what ravages sickness had made in her frame since they last met; and as he expressed, though in modified terms, inorder not to alarm her, the regret he felt at seeing her so unwell, he observed the eyes of Lady Adeline fixed upon him, in order to read his real opinion on the first sight he had of her mother; and before he could regulate his own feelings on the subject, those of Lady Adeline's overshadowed her countenance with an expression of sadness she was not prepared to command, while the tears rushed to her eyes. Again holding out her hand to Lord Albert, while a smile of mingled joy and sorrow beamed over her features, and partly dispersed the cloud, she said,
"All will be wellnow; my dearest mamma will soon be better—joy and happiness will once again be our's." Lord Albert thanked her with his eloquent eyes; and as he impressed a kiss on her offered hand, he replied:
"How fortunate that I received your letter when I did, for in another hour I should have been on my way to Dunmelraise."
"Indeed!" said Lady Adeline, her eyes sparkling with pleasure.
"Yes; and I had, but for something which detained me, been on my road there long before your letter arrived."
"That would indeed have been unfortunate," said Lady Dunmelraise; "to have missed you after so long hoping to have seen you there in vain, would have doubled our regret;" she spoke with a tone of something like reproach, at least so Lord Albert took it; and she added, with a melancholy smile, "It is a bad omen that a letter fromAdelineshould havepreventedyou from coming to us."
Lord Albert felt embarrassed; there was something relative to the delay of his coming which he knew he could not explain, and this consciousness made him feel as if he were acting a double part. At this moment Lady Adeline perceived the letters lying on the table, and taking them up, she glanced her eye over them as she turned them round one by one, saying, "this is for you, mamma—and this—and this—and this, as she handed themto Lady Dunmelraise—but this one is for myself." Lord Albert's attention had from the first moment of her taking up the letters been riveted upon her, and now with ill-concealed anxiety he watched every turn of her countenance, while she broke the seal and perused the letter. She read it, he conceived, with great interest; and said, when she had concluded, addressing Lady Dunmelraise—
"It is a kind word of inquiry for you, my dear mamma, from George Foley." Lord Albert changed colour as this name was pronounced; but neither she nor Lady Dunmelraise observed the circumstance, and this gave him leisure and power to recover from the confusion he experienced. Lady Adeline again resumed, after a short pause, "You must have met Mr. Foley at Restormel, Albert; what do you think of him?"
"I had little opportunity of judging of him," replied Lord Albert, hesitating as he spoke; "but he was only at Restormel for a part of the time I was there. He had, however,a strong recommendation to my favourable opinion, from the warm terms of praise and admiration in which he mentioned you, Adeline." She smiled, and without any alteration of manner went on to say:
"I am afraid then he hastoofavourable an opinion of me; and if he has raised your expectations so high of my improvement since last we met, I shall have reason to lament your having become acquainted with him; but he is such anadorateurof mamma's, that he thinks every thing that belongs to her is perfection!"
Notwithstanding Lady Adeline's seeming calmness while speaking of Mr. Foley—notwithstanding the natural and ingenuous expression of her words and countenance, Lord Albert could not divest himself of the idea that Mr. Foley had some undue power over her affections. It is easy, perhaps, to shut the door against evil thoughts; but when once they are admitted, they obtain a footing and a consequence which it was never intendedthat they should have. Beware, all ye who love, of admitting one spark of jealousy into your breasts, without immediately quenching the same by open and free discussion with the object of your affections! But there lies the difficulty—we are ashamed of harbouring an injurious thought of those we love; or rather, we are ashamed ofconfessingthat we do so; and we go on in the danger of concealment, rather than by humbling our pride, and laying open our error, obtain the probable chance of having it exposed, and removed. While monosyllables of indifferent import dropped from Lord Albert's lips, he was in his heart cherishing the false notion that had the letter, which gave him so much uneasiness, been entirely of the import which Lady Adeline represented it to be, it would have been more natural to have addressed it to Lady Dunmelraise herself.
He did not, indeed, dare to impugn Lady Adeline's truth: but he conceived that no other man should presume to have an interestin her—in her whobelonged to himself(every man will understand this), which could entitle him to hold a correspondence with her. He consequently became abstracted, and there was a sort of restraint upon the ease of his manner and conversation, of which Lady Dunmelraise's penetration soon made her aware, and to which even the young and unsuspecting Adeline could not remain wholly blind.
In order to replace things on the footing which they had been formerly, and which on their first meeting they still appeared to be, Lady Adeline turned the discourse to her pursuits in the country, and spoke in detail of her drawing, her music, her flower-garden, and the families of the poor in their neighbourhood whom she and Lord Albert had so often visited together.
"You remember," she said, "poor Betsy Colville, who never recovered the loss of her lover who was shipwrecked; she is still in the same state. She goes every day to the gate where they last parted, takes out the brokensixpence he gave her at their last interview; and having returned home, looks in her father's face, and says 'to-morrow.' She never repines, never misses church—joins in family worship; but her poor mind is touched, and she can no longer do the work of the house or tend on her aged parents. I have therefore paid my chief attentions to that family—and they are so grateful—so grateful, too, for what you have done for them. The myrtle we planted together, Albert, on the gable-end of the house, now nearly reaches the thatch; and in all their distress about their daughter, the good old pair have never forgotten to tend that plant. Mr. Foley and I rode or walked there every day."
The latter words of this discourse poisoned all the sweetness of the preceding part; and the idea of Mr. Foley became associated in Lord Albert's distempered mind, with all the interest and all the enthusiasm expressed by Lady Adeline; so that he read in her descriptions of her mode of having passed her time, and thepleasure she had innocently enjoyed, nothing but her love of Mr. Foley's company.
Lord Albert became still more silent, or spoke only in broken sentences; and a deeper gloom gradually spread over each of the three individuals, usurping the place of that cordial outpouring of the heart, which had at first rendered the moment of meeting so delightful. After a silence, during which Lady Adeline and Lady Dunmelraise appeared mutually affected by the awkwardness which the change in Lord Albert's manner had excited, yet anxious to conceal from each other the knowledge that such was the case—they felt relieved, when he took up a newspaper, and read aloud the announcement of an approaching drawing-room.
Lady Dunmelraise, glad of an opportunity to find some subject of discourse foreign to the thoughts which obtruded themselves so painfully upon her, said, "Well, Adeline, that is a favourable circumstance,à quelque chose malheur est bon; had I not been so muchworse exactly at this very time, we had perhaps not been in London; for though I have for some months past wished you to be presented at court, we might, ten to one, not have had courage to leave Dunmelraise at this sweet season; but as it is, the opportunity must not be lost, and the only question is, by whom shall the presentation take place—for alas! I am not able myself to have that pleasure, and I fear my dear sister Lady Delamere will not either;" then pausing a moment, she added, "perhaps, Lord Albert, Lady Tresyllian will kindly take that office, if she is to be in town."
"I am sure she would readily comply with any wish of yours; but I know my mother has, in a great measure, given up the London world, and has not been at any of the drawing-rooms during the present reign; but, perhaps, on such an occasion, she might be induced to forego her determination of retreat."
"Oh, I would not for the world," saidLady Adeline, "torment Lady Tresyllian about it; for," she added, smiling, "you know how very little I care about such things."
"It is well," said Lady Dunmelraise, "to hold every thing in estimation according to its due value. Most young persons aretoofond of the gaieties and pleasures of the world; but you, my dear Adeline, perhaps contemn them in one sweeping clause of indifference, without having properly considered to what advantages they may tend when resorted to in due degree, and in subordination to better pursuits. A drawing-room I hold to be one of those very few worldly pageants which are connected with some valuable and estimable feelings; the attending them is an homage due to the state of the sovereign; they uphold the aristocracy of the country, which is one of the three great powers of government, now too much, too dangerously set aside; and they ought to, and do in great measure, keep up those barriers in society, which prevent an indiscriminate admission of vice and virtue, at least as far asregards an outward respect to theappearances of decorum. Whenever drawing-rooms shall be abolished, you will see that much greater licence in society will take place. The countenance of the sovereign, the right to be in his presence, is one which none would voluntarily resign; and to avoid losing it, is a check upon the conduct of many, who are not regulated by better motives; while those who are, will always duly appreciate those honours which flow from monarchs, and which form a part of our glorious constitution. 'Love God, honour the king,' is the good old adage; and with this conviction on my mind, and the remembrance of that loyalty and attachment to the present House of Hanover which your ancestors have ever displayed, even to the sacrifice of their lives and fortunes, my Adeline, I have set my heart on your being presented to your king; and the only consideration is, who shall be the person to present you."
"Well, dearest mamma," replied Lady Adeline,"any thing you wish, I shall be delighted to do, and I make no doubt you are perfectly right; only I did not feel the least anxious, and I wished to set your mind at rest upon the subject of my going into public." Lord Albert said, with an expression of melancholy and displeasure, "It is quite unnatural for a young person of your age, Adeline, to affect to despise the amusements of the world; and unless you have somecausefor doing so, best known to yourself, I confess I do not understand it."
Lady Adeline was too quick-sighted not to perceive that something or other pained and displeased Lord Albert, and had they been quite alone, she might have asked him the occasion of this change in his humour; but as it was, she did not dare to question him; and by way of turning the conversation into another channel, she inquired, of whom consisted the party at Restormel; if they were clever, or distinguished, or agreeable; and whether the mode of life there was to his taste? Lord Albert seemed to awake out ofa sort of reverie into which he had fallen, and his countenance was agitated by many commingling expressions as he replied,
"I really can hardly tell you; there were the Tilneys, the Tenderdens, the Boileaus, Lady Hamlet Vernon, Mr. Leslie Winyard. At that sort of party there is little occasion for the display of talent, and people are glad to be quiet for a few days when they go to their country houses; so that each individual is thinking more of repose than of shining. As to their mode of life, it was pretty nearly, I think, what it is when they are in town."
Though Lord Albert spoke this in a hurried tone, he felt as though he had got well over a difficulty. But the remark Lady Dunmelraise made upon his answer, did not particularly serve his turn at the moment:—"Either the persons who I heard composed that party, or Lord Albert, must be much changed since I knew them, if they could be in unison," and she fixed her eyes upon him;—his embarrassment was visible, and did notsubside as she went on to speak particularly of Lady Hamlet Vernon: "She remembered her marriage," she said, and commented upon those sort of marriages, saying, "that all intriguing schemes were detestable, but those respecting marriage were of all others the most thoroughly wicked and despicable. Lady Hamlet's conduct, too, after marriage was not very praiseworthy: if a woman sacrifice every other consideration in allying herself to her husband for the sake of aggrandizement, she must at least continue to act upon that system, and if possible wash out the disgrace of such an act (for I consider it to be no less) by her subsequent mode of behaviour, and the dignified uses to which she applies her power. But in the present instance this was far from being the case, and she had allowed an apparent levity of conduct, at least, to sully her character. In one instance, Iknow, she has drawn a person, in whom I feel great interest, into a manner of life, and an idleness of existence, which, tocall it by no harsher name, is one of vanity and folly; but I had hoped her influence was over in that quarter."
"As I do not know to what you allude," rejoined Lord Albert, "I cannot exactly reply; but certainly Lady Hamlet Vernon is very handsome, very agreeable, and, for aught I know to the contrary, leads now a very good sort of life. She has a finely-disposed heart, and, I should think, is better than half the people who find fault with her. If, from having married an oldroué, she was thrown into danger, which her personal charms rendered very likely to have been the case, kindness I am sure would at any time open her eyes to avoid these; whereas undue severity might make her rush headlong into them—for harsh opinions in similar cases, nine times out of ten, drive such persons from bad to worse."
"I conceive," said Lady Dunmelraise, "that this may sometimes be the case; but it is frequently only an excuse for not choosing to hear the truth told. However, there is a society,of which Lady Hamlet Vernon is one, which I hold to be the subverter of every thing estimable. Its great danger is the specious ease and indifference of those who compose it, the system being without any system whatever. The great gentleness of manner and entire freedom, which seem to be its characteristics, are its most dangerous snares. No consecutive speech upon any subject, no power of reasoning, no appeal to religion, are tolerated by these persons. They have a lawless form of self-government indeed, by which they keep up their own sect and set,—but there is a mystery in the delusions which they cast around their victims, the more difficult to detect since the whole of their lives is spent in a seeming carelessness about every thing.
"The warning voice of a parent can alone put a young and unsuspecting member of society on his guard against being drawn into this vortex; but it is the young married persons to whom such warning is more particularly necessary. However, because thereare persons, who by artful intrigue arrogate to themselves a certain consideration, which they receive from the uninstructed and unwary, and whose ways are certainly not those of pleasantness or peace—we are not to say but that there are others who to the highest rank unite the highest principles, and who reflect honour on the class to which they belong—persons who consider their high stations as being the gifts of God, and themselves as responsible agents. Yes, the true nobility of Britain will yield to none other of any country for intrinsic worth; all the virtues adorn their families, and religion and honour stamp them with that true nobility of soul, without which all distinction is but a beacon of disgrace.
"It is not, therefore, because a few worthless or foolish persons, in the vast concourse of London society, affect an exclusiveness which rests on no basis of real worth or dignity, but on the very reverse, that all intercourse with the world is to be avoided, or allinnocent pleasure to be denied to young persons; and I should be exceedingly disappointed to see my Adeline retiring from her state and station, and coming to have a distaste for its amusements, because I feel certain that so violent a re-action is not natural, and that the real way to be of service to herself and others, is to fulfil the rank and station of life wherein she is placed, and in fact to do as our great inimitable Pattern did—to go about doing good."
Lord Albert's feelings, while Lady Dunmelraise was speaking, had undergone many changes, but the last was that of pleasurable approval at finding Lady Dunmelraise's opinion so much in coincidence with his own—and he said, in his own natural warm manner, "I hope Adeline will feel quite convinced, by your sensible manner, my dear Lady Dunmelraise, of representing this matter, that there is no virtue, nothing commendable indeed, in despising or condemning the worlden masse, and that there is just as much real good to be doneby living in as living out of it. True virtue does not lie in time or place—it is of all times, of all places; and it is a narrow, bigoted view of the subject alone, which partakes of monastic rigour and hypocritical ambition under the garb of humility, which would promulgate any other doctrine."
"My dear Albert, you know that I have no wish but to please mamma and you; and I need not pretend but that I shall be exceedingly diverted by going to public places. All I meant to say was, not to make yourselves uneasy about finding achaperonfor me, because I am perfectly contented to remain as I am—although I might be equally well diverted in leading what is called a gayer life."
Lord Albert's countenance relapsed into brightness as he said, taking her hand and putting it to his lips, "You are a dear and a rare creature—is she not, Lady Dunmelraise?"—and this appeal Lady Dunmelraise felt no inclination to controvert; but, rejoicing in the present disposition which she once more beheldin her future son-in-law, she now dismissed him for the evening, saying, "Adeline and I require some repose, that we may be fresh to-morrow for all the great events to which we shall look forward with pleasure, I am sure, as you seem to be quite of our way of thinking respecting herdébutin the great world—and so good night." The wish was reiterated kindly, warmly, by all parties, and they parted happier even than they had met.
As soon as Lord Albert reached his hotel, he found a note from Lady Hamlet Vernon, announcing her arrival from Restormel, and requesting to see him. In an instant, as though by magic, his doubts and fears respecting Lady Adeline returned; for with Lady Hamlet Vernon was connected the recollection of her mysterious note at Restormel, on the morning of his departure from thence—and with that recollection George Foley was but too deeply mingled. Then ensued a chaos in his mind, one thought chasing another, and none abiding to fix any purpose or decide any measure.At one moment he determined—if such passing impulse can be called determination—not to go near Lady Hamlet; but the next he thought she had shewn so much true interest for him—she had listened so often to his rebukes—apparently with more pleasure than she did to praise from others—that he should be ungrateful to avoid hernow, because other dearer interests filled up his time and his heart, and he finally resolved on obeying her wishes, and visiting her the next day.
In the morning of that day, before he had finished his late breakfast, and ere he was prepared to deny himself, the door of his apartment opened, and Mr. Foley was close to him ere his servant had time to announce his name.
"I am come," said the latter, with his polite and honeyed phrase, "to bring you pleasant tidings, which I trust will apologize for this my early intrusion. I am just arrived from South Audley Street, where I had the happiness of finding our friends pretty well;Lady Dunmelraise, indeed, was not up, having been fatigued by her journey; but Lady Adeline is blooming in beauty—I do not know when I have seen her looking better." Lord Albert bowed, and in his coldest manner replied, "he was very happy indeed to hear that Lady Adeline Seymour was so well, and he hoped, when he should make his personal inquiries, to find Lady Dunmelraise in the drawing-room."
Mr. Foley was too penetrating not to see that this information, as it came from him, conveyed no pleasurable feeling; but affecting not to observe this, he went on to talk of the late party at Restormel—spoke of Lady Hamlet Vernon as being a delightful creature, and drew a kind of parallelraisonnébetween her character and that of Lady Adeline's. Lord Albert was thinking, all the time he spoke, of the impertinent assumption of Mr. Foley's addressing him on the subject of Lady Adeline, and discussing her merits, as though he were not aware of them, and had not abetter right and ampler means to know and to value them.
Still there was a suavity—a delicacy even, in Mr. Foley's mode of expressing himself, which gave no tangible opportunity to shew offence; and Lord Albert, though writhing under impatience, was obliged to control himself. As soon as he could possibly contrive to do so, he changed the conversation, and spoke of the Opera, the Exhibition, the topics of the day—of all, in short, that was most uninteresting to him; and carried on an under current of thought all the time on the impropriety Adeline had been guilty of, in receiving Mr. Foley without her mother's presence to sanction such a visit, and on going himself directly to South Audley Street, in order that he might disclose to her his opinion on the inexpediency of such a measure, as that of her receiving the visits of young men when alone. But though the evident abstraction of Lord Albert D'Esterre rather increased than diminished, still Mr. Foley sat on, and sometimesrose to make a remark on a picture—sometimes opened a book, and commented upon its contents. Similar provocation must have occurred to every one at some time or other, and it is in vain to describe what, after all, no description can do justice to. A note arrived for Lord Albert—it was from Lady Adeline—very kind, but desiring him not to come to South Audley Street till four o'clock—saying she was going, by her mamma's desire, to see her aunt Lady Delamere, who was confined by a feverish cold, and could not leave her chamber to come to them.
Lord Albert's mortification was painted on his countenance. "If you have nothing better to do this morning, D'Esterre, and that your note does not otherwise take up your time, will you accompany me to Lady Hamlet Vernon's?" Lord Albert felt, "what, am I to be balked, dogged, forestalled in every trifling circumstance by this man!" but hesaid, hesitating as he spoke, "yes—no, that is to say, I had an engagement, but it is postponedfor the present—therefore, if you please, I will accompany you to Lady Hamlet's door;" and Mr. Foley, evidently triumphing in having foiled Lord Albert's real intentions, whatever they might be, but maintaining still his quiet composure, offered Lord Albert his arm, and they walked together towards Grosvenor Square, each talking of one thing and thinking of another.
Asthey walked along between Lord Albert's house and that of their destination, one idea took the lead in D'Esterre's mind—it was the hope of obtaining from Lady Hamlet Vernon an elucidation of the mysterious expressions contained in her note. He formed a thousand plans how he should contrive to remain alone with her, after Mr. Foley should take his leave, for he made no question but that he would be the first to end his visit; and he settled it in his own mind that he would affect to have some message to give Lady Hamlet, which might afford him an opportunity of procuring the interview he so eagerly desired: but almost always, in similar circumstances, none of these minor events occur as we intend they should; and the first objectLord Albert saw on entering Lady Hamlet Vernon's drawing-room was Lady Tenderden, sitting at a writing table, having taken off her bonnet as though she had come upon some particular occasion, and was fixed there for a considerable time.
"Ah! Lord Albert," said Lady Hamlet Vernon, "and Mr. Foley too! Most welcome both.—Restormel was quite dull without you; and besides the comfort one always feels at coming back to the dear dirty streets, after having been banished from them a few days, I am really charmed to find myself once more surrounded by all my friends. Do tell us the news, and sit down—you shall not positively pay me a flying visit—though you, Lord Albert, flew away in such a hurry from Restormel, that we had not time, no not even to say 'farewell;'"—(and she looked at him very significantly as she spoke.) "So before I shall have time now to speak to you, you will be gone again—but if so, it is notmyfault."
Lord Albert thought that he read themeaning of this speech, and his impatience and anxiety were increased in proportion. It was with the utmost difficulty he could bring himself to leave her side in order to go to the other end of the room, in obedience to Lady Tenderden, who called him every now and then to ask some silly question or other, which he hardly answered; and which induced her, therefore, to beg him to come and sit near her, that she might talk to him comfortably while she was writing: two things which she declared she could do quite well at the same time. As soon as Lady Tenderden had managed this contrivance, Mr. Foley entered into (apparently) a very interesting conversation with Lady Hamlet Vernon; and Lord Albert sat on thorns as his eyes were rivetted on them, while he contrived to answer Lady Tenderden, although it were as if he was playing at cross purposes. Any change was a relief, and the announcement of Lord Glenmore was a real pleasure to him, for he thought his arrival must atleast break up thetête-à-têtebetween Lady Hamlet and Mr. Foley, which seemed to him as if it never would end.
After having paid his compliments to Lady Hamlet Vernon and Lady Tenderden, Lord Glenmore accosted his friend, and cordially wished him joy in a sort of half whisper, on Lady Dunmelraise's arrival. But, in Lord Albert's present frame of mind, this congratulation was not received with that open warmth which Lord Glenmore expected; and he dropped the subject, taking up those of the common-place occurrences of the day. The drawing-room was discussed; it was to be fuller than any preceding one. Lady Tilney had declared she would not go—so had Lady Ellersby; "but, nevertheless," said Lord Glenmore, with one of his good-humoured smiles, "I dare say those ladies will not have the cruelty to allow their absence to be regretted when the time arrives; do you think they will, Lady Hamlet Vernon?"
"Most indubitably not, and I make nodoubt theplumassiersand jewellers are all at this moment in requisition in Lady Tilney's boudoir. But, by the way, Lord Glenmore, your fair lady will of course be presented on your marriage—who is to have the pleasure of presenting her?"
"Who? why of course her mother, Lady Melcomb."
Lady Hamlet Vernon and Lady Tenderden here exchanged the most significant glances, and a silence ensued; which was first broken by Lord Glenmore, who endeavoured to draw Lord Albert into conversation by touching alternately on politics, literature, and all the subjects which he knew were interesting to him; but to which he could only obtain some short answer, that did not promote the flow of the conversation. He began to ask himself whether he could have given Lord Albert any offence, or whether he retained any on account of their interview in the Park; but it was so unlike Lord Albert to take offence where it never was intended to be given, that he concluded (as was in fact the case)that something painful was on his mind, of which he could not divest himself. Having vainly attempted, by raillery as well as by engaging his attention, to get the better of this abstraction and gloom, Lord Glenmore let the matter pass, and addressed his conversation elsewhere; but Lady Tenderden was not to be diverted from her purpose, and she took up the thread of discourse, requesting to know if Lady Adeline Seymour had imposed a vow of silence upon him, or what other cause had so changed him since he was last at Restormel? He pleaded total ignorance of being changed; but the consciousness that he was so, rendered his efforts at disguise only more visible.
Lord Albert rose and sat down; a hundred times he looked at a French clock on the chimney-piece, which of course did not go; and at last requested Mr. Foley to tell him the hour, as he had an engagement which demanded his attention. Having found that it was a full half hour past the time appointedby Lady Adeline, he made his bow to Lady Hamlet Vernon, and was about to leave the room, when she called him back, and said, "of course we all meet in the evening at Lady Tilney's?" There was a glance and an emphasis which accompanied these words, which he could not fail to interpret as an assignation, and one that he determined on his part to keep.
Could Lord Albert have known what was passing in Lady Adeline's mind, while he was thus misspending his time in a false anxiety about a few mysterious words, written, it might be, with no good intent, and indeed it might be without any foundation, he would have hastened away from this idle and unworthy mode of passing his time long before he did; but experience unfortunately must be bought, and although we look upon the actions of others, and comment upon them, it may be with the calm wisdom of unmoved breasts, yet in our own time of trial we are too apt to prove that theory is not practice. Onewould imagine that it was the easiest thing possible to place one's-self ideally in the situation of another, to feel as he felt, and yet act diametrically opposite to the way in which he acted, in certain circumstances and positions; but this apparent facility of transmigration into the identity of another's being is mere delusion. It may be questioned if any human creature really understands another, and how much less likely is it that he should argue justly on his neighbour's affairs! Oh, if we were more merciful to others, and more severe on ourselves; more humble as to our own merits and more alive to those of our fellow creatures; we should be nearer the mark of justice than we usually are.
While Lord Albert, under the influence of a tormenting incipient jealousy, wasted the hour at Lady Hamlet Vernon's which he should have passed in South Audley Street, Lady Adeline had been with her aunt, Lady Delamere, who, in a true spirit of affectionatesolicitude, had nevertheless opened up a source of anxiety and doubt in the breast of her niece, which proved the cause of infinite distress to her. Lady Delamere, after receiving her with all that glow of partial fondness peculiarly characteristic of her family, it might be too much so towards each other, naturally spoke of Lord Albert D'Esterre.
"Ah, my dear Adeline, now the time approaches when, according to your father's will, your final decision respecting the fulfilment of your marriage must take place, my anxious fondness suggests a thousand fears, at least doubts, for your happiness. I beseech you let these four intervening months at least be given, not only to a serious examination of your own heart, but to a clear and vigorous elucidation of the disposition and principles of Lord Albert."
"As to my own heart," replied Lady Adeline with quickness, "it has long not been in my own keeping, for most fortunately, wheremy duty was directed to place it, there my choice seconded, nay, almost preceded the arrangement. But why should you doubt that, such being the case, my happiness should be endangered? say rather, dearest aunt, confirmed."
"It may be so—I trust it will be so, my sweet Adeline, since your love is fixed; but remember how very serious a step marriage is; and before you are bound for life in the holiest of all ties, again I conjure you to lay aside, inasmuch as you can do so, all the blandishments of love, and consider how far the tastes, the pursuits, the temper, above all the religious tenets of your husband, will be in accordance with your own. Indeed, indeed, people do not reflect seriouslyenoughon these points. I ask not any long consideration, any great trial of time or absence—they are both circumstances which may deceive either way; for things viewed at a distance, are not seen in their true light; and one may be as much deceived at the end of a year, as at the end ofa month—and life is short. The life of life, the bloom of youth, should not be needlessly withered in pining anxiety. What I ask of you is, during the time you are now to be in town, to go out with moderation into the great world, to see what it has to offer, and to know whether any other person might supersede Lord Albert in your affections; this is as yet a fair and honourable trial. You arenot boundto each other, if either wishes to break the tie." (Lady Adeline sighed heavily.) "And should you, while together, discover any flaw or imperfection which might make you wish to dissolve the engagement, now is the time; but after marriage, I need not say, my Adeline, that one glance of preference for another is guilt—one wish, foreign to your allegiance as a wife, ismisery."
There was a pause in the conversation. Lady Adeline felt sorrowful—she scarcely knew why, except indeed it had never occurred to her that any thing could step in to break off her engagement with Lord Albert; and thebare possibility of such an event seemed to unhinge her whole being.
The fact is, Lady Delamere had heard surmises of Lord Albert's intimacy with Lady Hamlet Vernon, and without informing her niece of a report which, after all, might not have any foundation, she yet conceived it to be a duty to put her on her guard, and make her ready to observe any alteration that might have taken place in Lord Albert. She would have told Lady Dunmelraise all that she had heard without disguise; but at present her state of health was such, that she could not think of endangering her life by giving her such information; for she well knew her sister's heart was set upon the match, and that she had long loved Lord Albert as though he had been her son. However, she determined, the moment Lady Dunmelraise was better, to have no concealment from her. It had not been without much self-debate that she had brought herself even to hint any thing like a doubt to Lady Adeline of Lord Albert's truth;and even now, she only endeavoured to prepare her to open her eyes to the conviction, should such a melancholy change have taken place, but without naming the real cause she had for giving her such caution.
As it was, it was quite enough to sadden Lady Adeline; and her air was so dejected when she returned home to Lady Dunmelraise, that the latter feared something had occurred to vex her. "Is my sister worse, dearest child?—I pray you do not conceal the truth from me."
"Oh no;—be not alarmed," she replied, "my aunt hopes, in a day or two, to be able to come to see you, dearest mamma. It is not that—but I have a bad head-ache, and have undergone too much excitement." The look of anxious inquiry which Lady Dunmelraise could not conceal, lessened not Lady Adeline's unhappiness; and as the time which she had appointed for Lord Albert's visit was now far passed, the whole weight of the sad warnings she had received, seemeddoubled. At length the peculiar knock—the quick footstep on the stair, told her he was come, and she passed from her mother's bedroom into the adjoining drawing-room to meet him.
They seemed mutually affected by some secret cause; for there was not that cordial clasping of hands—that beaming of eyes—that joyful tone of greeting, which might have been expected to mark their meeting on this occasion: their hands touched coldly—and Lord Albert made no effort to retain her's.
"You have been very much later than I expected, Albert."
"Yes: I could not exactly obey the hour named in your note, as you went out before I could possibly come here this morning; and as you put me off, I had another engagement, which in my turn detained me; however, I was happy to hear you were well from Mr. Foley, who had the pleasure of seeing you, I believe, very early."
"Yes: Mr. Foley, you know, as mamma'sprotégéandenfant de famille, has theentréeat all hours, and I was drawing when he came in; I thought it was you, and—
"Oh, dear Lady Adeline, you cannot suppose I should take the liberty of inquiring what you were doing—I hope Lady Dunmelraise is better to-day?"
Lady Adeline, under any other influence than that which now influenced her, would have said, "Albert, what is the matter with you? are you displeased?" But her aunt's advice was, "look well to the real state of Lord Albert's affections, and do not allow your own to give a colouring to his, which may not be the true one, were his heart unbiassed by the flattering predilection you so openly profess for him." This advice sealed her lips; and, checking the natural impulse of her heart, she replied to his inquiries about her mother more at length than she would have done, in order to recover a composure she was far from feeling; she allowed all further discussion of her mode of passing the morning to drop.
Lord Albert's restrained, unnatural manner increased, and they both felt relieved when Lady Dunmelraise called from her apartment to her daughter—who obeyed the summons; but returning after a minute's absence, she said,
"Mamma hopes you will dine with us to-day."
"Oh, certainly, if Lady Dunmelraise wishes me to do so:" and as Lady Adeline made no reply, but returned to her mother, Lord Albert departed to dress.
When they met at dinner, Lady Dunmelraise's presence for a time prevented the awkwardness they mutually felt; but she soon found that the conversation was entirely left to her, and could not be long without perceiving that something had occurred which altered Lord Albert's manner. Hoping it, however, only to be one of those fallings-out of lovers which are the renewal of love, Lady Dunmelraise turned the conversation entirely upon the comingdrawing-room, and the more interest she seemed to take in her daughter's going into the gay world, the more grave did Lord Albert become: this was a contradiction to what he had expressed respecting that measure, and, as Lady Dunmelraise thought, a caprice of temper, which she was sorry to observe in him. She hoped, however, that the thoughts which involuntarily arose in her mind were groundless, and she determined not to act precipitately; but felt glad that she was come to town, where she would have an opportunity of judging further, and of seeing how matters stood from her own personal observation of Lord Albert's conduct. She considered that to probe her daughter's feelings upon the subject, would be to excite them so painfully, that they might destroy the power of a cool judgment. She therefore resolved to postpone any avowal of her own sentiments, any positive declaration of her own doubts, till the time, which was now fast approaching, for Lady Adeline's ultimate decision,should afford her a proper opportunity of speaking her mind unreservedly to Lord Albert; unless, indeed, circumstances of an imperious kind relative to his conduct should make such a step necessary before that period.
In this disposition of mind, the parties could not enjoy each other's society. The conversation was broken, interrupted, and in itself devoid of interest; so that when Lord Albert arose to take his leave about ten o'clock, Lady Adeline almost felt it a relief. "What, are you going to leave us so soon?" said Lady Dunmelraise, with visible surprise.
"I am sorry that a particular engagement obliges me to go."
"And may I ask," rejoined Lady Dunmelraise, in her quick way when she was not pleased at any thing, "may I take the liberty of asking where you are going?"
"Oh, certainly—to Lady Tilney's."
"To Lady Tilney'sparty!" with a marked emphasis on the last word; and then checkingherself, and resuming her usual dignity of composure, she added, "I hope you will have an agreeablesoirée; when one lives out of the world, and grows old, one forgets the delights of these sort of re-unions; but, of course, one must do in London as they do in London; and I believe, like most other things, the habit of attending them becomes a second nature." Lord Albert smiled—it might be in acquiescence, it might be in disdain; and with many good-nights, he slightly touched the hands of Lady Dunmelraise and her daughter, and departed.
There was a silence, an awkward silence; neither liked to express the thought that was uppermost in her mind, for fear of wounding the other. At length Lady Dunmelraise spoke: "It is strange," she said, "to observe the sort of hold which foolish things sometimes obtain over sensible men. The class of persons with whom Lord Albert seems now to be living, are not those I should have conceived that he would ever have selected; but fashionleads young people to do a thousand silly things, which they repent when their ripened judgment shews them in their true colours; and to say truth, I think Lord Albert's manners altogether have not gained by foreign travel. But I suppose I must not express such treason to you, Adeline?" Lady Adeline tried to smile, as she replied:
"I have hardly had time to judge;" and Lady Dunmelraise turned the discourse rather on the associates of Lord Albert than on himself.
"The persons," she said, "he named to us as having been at Restormel, and with whom he now appears so much engaged, are those who live entirely for this world: and not even for the most dignified employments or pursuits of this present existence. Fortune, health, and morals, are all likely to become the prey of a voracious appetite for pleasure; and when we live only to pleasure, we lose all title to being rational souls, and make a wreck of happiness. I am willing tohope and believe, that many are ensnared to tread this Circean circle who are in ignorance of what it leads to; who see in it only a brilliant phantom of amusement, a glitteringignis fatuusthat pleases their fancy, but which, alas! I fear, too frequently leads them on, till some entanglement of fortune, or virtue, levels them with its worse members; and from which it is a mercy indeed if they ever escape."
Lady Adeline had listened to her mother with an interest that made her shudder. "And is it, indeed," she cried, "in such a set that Albert is thrown!" while the paleness of her countenance expressed the anguish of her mind.
"I trust not, my dearest child. I do not mean to say, for I have no right so to say, that Lord Albert is habitually one of this set;—heaven forbid!—but that he frequents their society appears evident. However, let us not think evil before it actually occurs; let us judge dispassionately, and seefor ourselves. You are now, my love, to enter into the great world under an excellent and loving guide; and having warned you, I leave your own good sense to do the rest." Lady Adeline sighed heavily, and did not seem able at all to rally her spirits. "Now, love, let us turn to lighter matters," said Lady Dunmelraise, "and consider the arrangements of your presentation dress."
"I should prefer its being as simple as possible," said Lady Adeline, "and the rest I leave entirely to your, and," she added hesitatingly, "to Lord Albert's tastes." Her mother shortly after proposed retiring for the night, and trembled as she saw how deeply her daughter's happiness seemed to depend on Lord Albert, perceiving that she referred every trifle to his arbitration.
When he left South Audley Street to go to Lady Tilney's supper party, Lord Albert ran over again in his mind the occurrences of the day, and in Lady Adeline's silence, her manner, her looks, he thought he read anindifference towards himself, which at once piqued and wounded him. In all that had fallen from Lady Dunmelraise, in all that he could gather fromhermanner towards himself, he could not fix on any thing unkind or unjust; but from the consciousness of his own conduct not having been what it ought, his heart was ill at ease, and he knew not with what right he felt angry; but yet he did so feel, and was tempted to inveigh against the fickleness of woman, while a thought of Mr. Foley obtruded itself among all the rest, and shewed him an imaginary rival.
"Can all this," he asked himself, "be only preparatory to her breaking off her engagement altogether?"
Such was the mood of mind in which Lord Albert entered Lady Tilney's drawing-rooms, and as hardly any of the invited were as yet come from the Opera, he had leisure unmolested to walk through them. They were brilliantly lighted, and filled with all the rifled sweets of the green-house; sweets, whichseem but ill suited in their fresh purity for the scene they were brought to adorn.
While the apartments were still empty, he had an opportunity of examining some of the works of art with which they were decorated. He stopped opposite to a Claude, which was certainly a contrast to the feelings of his own mind. The glowing sunrise, the dancing wave, the palace of the Medici, the business of a sea-port, conveyed him in idea to the Pitti Palace. "Often as that subject has been repeated," he said, turning to Mr. Francis Ombre, "by the same pencil, it is always new, always redolent of repose and pleasure; the scintillating sunbeams are still emblematic of that dancing of the heart, which in the morning of our days gilds every thing with beauty: no, there is no after-pleasure which can equal the sunrise of existence; and if ever picture conveyed a moral truth, the pictures of Claude most assuredly have this power."
"Yes," replied Mr. Ombre, "I love tosun myself at a Claude, it is the only sun one does see in this climate." Lord Albert passed on, sighing as he went, and his attention was again arrested by an antique bust of Psyche: "What refinement of tenderness in the eyelid; what soul in the curvature of the lip! how the line swells, and then is lost again in the almost dimpling roundness of the chin! how child-like, and yet how replete with meaning, the turn of the head and neck! it is at once the bud, the flower, the fruit of beauty amalgamated and embodied in the marble."
It was indeed an emblem of soul. And of whom did it remind Lord Albert? Of his own Adeline. His own! there was an electric touch in the thought—was sheindeed still his own, or had he lost her for ever? Lady Hamlet Vernon had stood unperceived by him, watching him for some previous minutes, and by that sense which never fails to inform a woman in love, she felt certain from his manner of looking at the Psyche, that it conveyed more to interesthim than any mere ideas ofvirtùcould possibly do.
Her agitation was extreme, and she could scarcely master it so as to wear a semblance of composure; at length, though the part she had to play was a difficult one, she determined on fulfilling her assignation; and having previously decided how she should manage what she had to do, she went up to him, and at the very moment he was asking himself whether or not he had lost Adeline for ever, a soft voice awoke him to a sense of who and where he was: he turned round and beheld Lady Hamlet Vernon. The recognition of any one whom we believe has an interest in us when the heart feels desolate, is a powerful cordial to the spirits.
Lord Albert greeted her with an animation of pleasure that he was scarcely himself aware of, and which elicited from her an answering sentiment of kindness, that at once cheered and gave him new life. "I have much to say to you," he whispered; "let us sit down inyonder alcove, which is unoccupied, and where we may have an opportunity of speaking unheard by others." He offered her his arm, which she accepted, and they moved to that part of the apartment. At the same instant Lady Glenmore entered, leaning on her husband's arm, and a crowd followed which filled the room. Among these, Mr. Leslie Winyard and Lady Tenderden were conspicuous personages: but Lady Glenmore was thenouveauté du jour. When Georgina Melcomb was an unmarried girl, nobody looked at her, or thought about her; but now that she was to play a part, and in her turn become a card to play in the game of fashion, all eyes were fixed upon her. At this moment she was the very picture of innocent happiness, and in the countenance of her husband shone the reflection of her own felicity. There is something in that sort of happiness which involuntarily inspires respect, and to all hearts that are not dead to nature, there is awakened a simultaneous sensation of pleasure.
But yet there are serpents in the world, who, envious of such pure bliss, seek only its destruction. "Really," said Mr. Leslie Winyard to Lady Tenderden, "that is a fine-looking creature!" speaking of Lady Glenmore as she stood talking with animation to her husband, "and when she has rubbed off a little of her coarseness, and become somewhat less conjugally affected, I don't know but what I may do her the honour to talk to her sometimes myself." Lady Tenderden laughed as she replied,
"There is no saying how condescending you may become—but when do you intend to begin? don't you see that if she is allowed to go on in this way, she will never get out Of it? and as I have undertaken her education myself, I do beg that you will by some contrivance unhook her from Lord Glenmore, and leave me to engage his attention while I make my pupil over to you for the evening,vraiment ça vaut la peine; onlyla jeune Ladi est tant soit peu maussade et il faut la mettre sur le bon chemin."
"With all my heart; if you will only begin the attack I will follow it up."
"Allons donc," she replied, taking his arm and going towards the Glenmores.
The usual nothings of common-place talk, the unmeaning greetings, and the self-same observations on singers and dancers which have been made a hundred times before, opened the meditated campaign. "My dear Lord Glenmore," said Lady Tenderden, "I have long wished to consult you about achangement de décoration" (and she looked at Mr. Leslie Winyard) "which I purpose making in my house in town, and I have some thoughts of copying in part the Rotunda-room which is here, only there are some objections to be made to it, which I wish to avoid if possible, and I am desirous that you should assist me with your perfection of taste; have the kindness for a moment to come with me—but I could not think of giving Lady Glenmore that trouble. There, Mr. Winyard, while I run away with my lord, do you make thepreuxchevalier, and defend Lady Glenmore from all dangers."
So saying, she passed her arm through Lord Glenmore's and led him away. Lady Glenmore looked for a moment as if she intended to follow, and even half rose from her chair for that purpose; but the lessons Lady Tenderden had given her about not seeming to pursue her husband recurred to her, and she sat down again, blushing and breathless, and evidently discomposed. Mr. Leslie Winyard enjoyed the scene: "shall I call Lord Glenmore back again?" he asked, after fixing his eyes upon her maliciously, "or will you allow me to conduct you to him?" and he smiled, evidently in ridicule at her awkwardness. But she was not a fool, though ignorant of the ways of the world; and in a few minutes she recovered herself, and spoke uncommonly well on common-place topics, to the astonishment of her hearer: she even passed upon the set to which he belonged some very stinging remarks, themore so from their being uttered as if unconscious that they were so, or that he was one of the persons to whom they applied.
"Do you know," said he, gazing at her with looks of admiration, "do you know you are a very extraordinary personage? Suffer me to say that this is all very well in joke, but if you areseriousin your opinions, we must undergo a great revolution, or we shall not be at all able to live with you. I do not pretend," he said, "to decide who is in the right or who is in the wrong, but I am very certain of one thing, a change must take place somewhere, if your ideas of things in general are correct." Lady Glenmore replied, "that she was very certain her ideas wouldnotchange;" to which he rejoined, "nous verrons."
At that moment a move in the room announced that every one was going to supper, and the doors were thrown open into an adjoining apartment, towards which there was a general rush. Lady Glenmore againcast her eye anxiously around, but in vain—her husband was not to be seen.
"Allow me," said two or three young men, offering their arm to her, "to hand you to supper," and in the confusion she took that of Mr. Leslie Winyard. "But," he observed, "you seem so uneasy, that if you will allow me, I will merely see you agreeably placed, and go in quest of this envied Lord Glenmore."
"You are very good," she replied, "but I cannot think of giving you that trouble."
"Oh dear, I beg you will not mention it; and the mission is so new a one, that I am particularly proud to be employed in executing it."
"How, new? Is there any thing extraordinary in wishing to know whether one's husband chooses one should go home, or whether he stays supper or not?"
"Yes, Lady Glenmore! most new! most wonderful! But I do not think it is a fashion that will generally take. But here isa table with some seats unoccupied. Will you allow me to recommend your availing yourself of it? It seems to be the choice of the chosen; here is Lady Hamlet Vernon, and Lord D'Esterre, and the Boileaus, and the Ellersbys, and Mr. Spencer Newcomb; do take this seat, and I will go in quest of your lord andmaster. But see, he has not fallen into any of the whirlpools or quicksands that you seem to apprehend for him in these dangerous regions, for by all that is fortunate there he is next to Lady Tenderden."
"Where?" cried Lady Glenmore, looking eagerly around.
"The third table from us, just behind Lady Baskerville; however, if you are stilluneasy, you have only to command me."
"No, it is his intention to remain for supper, and all is well, for if he had wanted me he would have sought for me."
"Always depend upon that. And now what shall I help you to?" Lady Glenmore, in her own mind, was not at all satisfied as tothe danger of whirlpools and quicksands, though they were of another sort from those Mr. Winyard had passed his jokes on; but again Lady Tenderden's advice recurred to her, which had acquired consequence from Lord Glenmore's opinion of that lady, and she endeavoured to enter into the conversation of those around her. It was a sort of dead language as yet to her ears, but she could perceive that, under disguise, many allusions were made to herself, and to her untutored behaviour, which checked her natural flow of spirits, and she gradually became silent, and could no longer conceal her anxious impatience to be once more safe under her husband's wing. The very first person that arose afforded her an opportunity of doing so likewise, and making a sign to Lord Glenmore, she waited for him in the door-way. He was not long before he joined her, and with apparently mutual satisfaction they once more found themselves together. This difference, however, existed in their feelings, thatLord Glenmore, though honourable himself, and incapable of thinking really ill of others, however he might consider them trifling, yet from habit and the manners of the world, had not an idea of watching his wife's conduct in public.
Lord Glenmore's character has been already described; but it has not perhaps been sufficiently explained how very much his guileless unsuspecting nature laid him open to become the prey of others who were the reverse. Let no man cast a young wife (unprepared for the dangers she will meet with) upon the licentious intercourse of the world ofton, nor leave her, unguarded by his presence and authority, to stem the tide of vice which may steal in upon her unawares. It is a husband's duty to be the guide and support of his wife; and, without tyranny, but with the determined rectitude of tender solicitude, to watch over their mutual interests. The maxim so often quoted, that "the wife whom a man can doubt is not worthy of his regard," is not always atrue one. Every mortal is liable to err—and why should woman, the weaker sex, be cast upon the world, and committed to its dangers, without stay or support from her natural guardian and protector?
The fact is, it is a maxim often resorted to in idleness or indifference, and is more frequently an apology for bad conduct in those who make it, than arising from any true nobility of soul or any moral or religious principle. Lord Glenmore, from living in the midst of the world of fashion, and from never having (a rare instance) been spoiled by such a life, was less aware than any human being perhaps of the danger to which he was exposing his young wife. Had any body told him the terms upon which she was to be admitted as one of theéliteofton, in plain language, he would have started with disgust and horror from all such association; but, like some few, deceived as he was by specious appearances, he saw nothing in the set but the airiness of fashion, and the folly, at worst, of a few months duringthe London season; whereas the truth stood thus.—
The husband of an Exclusive must be exclusively given to his own devices, without ever making his wife a party at all concerned in them; unless, indeed, they arrive at thatacméof exclusive perfection when they boast to each other of the degrading license of their lives, and tell of their different favourites, comparing the relative merits of these with that of others of the same society. Into the mysteries of an exclusivecoterieno unmarried woman, that is to say, no girls, are to be admitted—in order that the conversation may be unchecked. The more admirers a married woman has, the higher her reputation amongst them; and it is never quite complete till some oneadorateurmoving in the same circle is theami preféré. If the cavalier be a man of title, power, and wealth, then the lady hasthe world—theirworld—at her feet. This arrangement ensures the latter (whatever her husband's fortune may be) the advantages of dressand equipage, from which expenseheis then exonerated; and while he has the credit of keeping up a tasteful establishment, he is exempted from all trouble or thought as to the means by which it is so kept. But as in all communities there are different degrees of distinction, so in this,—those who commence their career have a certain rubicon to pass through before they arrive at such a height of perfection.
The first requisite for a newly-initiated member to know is, how to cut all friends and relations who are not deemed worthy of being of a certaincoterie;—the next, is to dress after a particular fashion, talk a particular species of language, not know any thing or any person that does not carry the mark of the coterie, and speak in a peculiar tone of voice. To hold any conversation which deserves that name is called being prosy;—to understand any thing beyond the costume of life, pedantic.
Whatever vice or demoralization may exist in character, providing it exist with what theycall good taste (that idol of their idolatry), is varnished over. If not approved openly, it is tacitly assented to, and allowed to pass as a venial error; whereas whatever takes place contrary to thisgood taste, though in itself perfectly innocent, tending it may be to virtue rather than vice, is insufferable—not to be namedamong them; and unfits the offending parties from communication with the Exclusives. Indignation expressed at crime is voted vulgar; any natural expression of the feelings, ill-breeding; and right and wrong, in short, consists in being, or not being,one of the set. To their choice meetings children dare not invite parents, or brothers and sisters of one another, except under their seal and sign-manual. The husbands and wives, who are members of the association, are invariably persons who have separate interests, separate views, and agree only in this one point, namely, in being a cloak for each other's follies or vices.
It is to be hoped, and indeed may be assertedwith truth, that many are ensnared to tread this Circean circle who are in ignorance of what it leads to; who see in it only a brilliant phantasm of pleasure and of pride; anignis fatuusthat pleases their fancy; but which terminates too frequently in leading them on, till some entanglement of fortune, or virtue, levels them with its worse members; and from which it is a mercy indeed if they ever escape.