Itmust not be supposed that Lady Hamlet Vernon admitted to herself that she was the mover ofpremeditatedevil. Impelled by violent impulse, it is true she hesitated not in adopting means of any kind to attain her wishes; for she invariably succeeded in reasoning herself, however falsely, into a belief that she had at least some apology to gloss over, if not to justify, the measures she pursued.
Whatever calm she had assumed in her late interview with Lord D'Esterre, she suffered in secret the most painful agitation: the violence she had done her feelings, in concealing the disappointment she endured on Lord Albert D'Esterre's leaving Restormel,and the restraint that those feelings had since undergone before she found a favourable opportunity of speaking to him, all contributed (when at length that opportunity at Lady Tilney's supper-party did present itself) to render their indulgence more overwhelming. When she returned home that night, the sleepless hours of suffering she passed were not less painful in degree than those in which Lord D'Esterre shared; with this difference only in their nature, that the anguish endured by him was of a varied and mixed kind; whereas the whole mass of Lady Hamlet's wishes were centred in an uncontrolled passion for him; a passion which, since she had allowed it to wear its undisguised character, she found a thousand plausible reasons for admitting to control her every thought.
There was no cause, she argued, sufficiently strong in Lord D'Esterre's engagement with Lady Adeline to forbid the indulgenceof her love for him;shehad no relative duties to sway her conduct—she was her own mistress: and in the opinion of the world—herworld at least—she would be justified, where envy did not bias the judgment, in endeavouring to form so desirable a connexion. However Lord Albert D'Esterre might have been ostensibly considered by the members of the exclusive circle as one of themselves, and however much they affected to deride and despise his principles and habits, yet as a man whose talents promised to shine in the senate, and whose interest was considerable, his actions were not, in fact, quite so undervalued, or so indifferent to the leading personages of that body, as they might on a cursory view appear to be. He was still, Lady Tilney thought, too young, in her political way of viewing every thing, and had not given sufficient proofs of firmness, as a party man, for any direct overtures to be made to him on thatscore. But in as far as regarded his admission, in the first instance, to society amongst her coterie, he owed that distinction to his youth, his personal appearance, and his high rank; to his youth especially, as fitting him to become, under clever tuition, an obedient satellite; and when his very attractive exterior and manners, which were at once dignified and original, were added to the account, it is not to be wondered that he was reckoned a person worth courting, and a character worth forming, which might be incorporated, in due time, as one of their own.
Still there was a probationary state to pass through before any one was actually admitted into the arena of that circle. Lady Hamlet Vernon, however, who from his first appearance had marked him with her peculiar approbation, was very clear-sighted as to the views which might be formed of others respecting an appropriation of him to their own purposes; and she thought she perceived,almost from the first, in the politic and eager attentions of Lady Tilney towards him, as well as in those of her silent but not uninterested lord, some ulterior object in obtaining his favour and confidence, which she imagined might also turn to her own account, as affording herself means to acquire an influence over him of another nature.
It is surprising with what quick perception women will discover the most hidden sentiments of others, when they have the remotest reference to the object of their favour and predilection; and many a man owes his success in life to the unceasing, and perhaps unknown endeavours to serve him, of some devoted, and it may be, unrequited heart. Who will watch like a woman over those minute details, which swell the aggregate of greater means? Who can feel, as a woman can, those vibrations of circumstances which may enable her to seize upon favourable moments, thosemollissima tempora fandi, when thecurrent of success may be directed to the object of her wishes. Lady Hamlet was well skilled to do all this, and from the first of Lord Albert's appearance in the circle in which she moved, her most diligent attention was ever awake to all that concerned him. She perceived that whenever he was spoken of, the Tilneys were particularly cautious and guarded in giving their opinion; and she was not mistaken in thence arguing that they were aware he might become a man of high consequence, in every sense of the term, as well as in their own peculiar acceptation of it.
Lady Hamlet Vernon felt that in this they had not formed an erroneous view of him, for she read ambition in his character: and though the species of that quality of mind was certainly very different in Lord Albert and in herself, yet its general nature was no stranger to her, and she knew it to be too powerful a lever in human actions to overlookor disregard it in this instance. On the contrary, she determined to use it in behalf of her own views; and from this motive she dwelt with energy on the subject of Lord Albert's prospects for the future, while conversing with him at Lady Tilney's. She then found she was touching a master-key to open the secret recesses of his mind and feelings. In its very first application, she had found it more than answer her expectations; and the consciousness that the apparent harmony of her sentiments with his on this point, had established an interest in and obtained an influence over the very main-spring of Lord Albert D'Esterre's being, inspired her with the liveliest hope.
No mercenary views, it is true, no mean love of power for little ends, actuated her, but a violent and overpowering passion, which, however, was equally subversive of rectitude of conduct, since it was neither guided by principle, nor restrained by moralor religious control. It was not directly any selfishness of motive that impelled her to the course she was pursuing, for she would have gone blindly forward in any plan the most contrary to her interests, her habits, or her feelings, which promised to draw her into a union of sentiment with the object of her passion; but those who suffer themselves to be directed by such impulses, are under complete delusion respecting the estimate they form of themselves. Whenever passion obtains the mastery, the effect is equally certain; the wholesome freedom of a mind at liberty is gone; and when once enslaved, it becomes like a wave of the sea, tossed about in every direction the sport of winds, and is as liable to dash into ruin, as to use any power it may possess to beneficial purposes.
Whilst the fever of agitation swayed Lady Hamlet Vernon, she gave herself up in secret to the inebriating delight of dwelling upon Lord Albert's looks and words, duringtheir last interview; she recalled the expression of his eyes, as he gazed at her while she was speaking; she still seemed to feel the pressure of his hand thrill through her veins, as when he received the ring she gave him in pledge of friendship; but as these intoxicating sensations subsided, she relapsed again into fear, lest she should have gone too far at first; lest any thing she had said or looked might have appeared too violent, too plainly have told the tale of her feelings, ere time had ripened the moment when their disclosure might be more in unison with his wishes. Then again she hoped that her agitation might have been attributed alone to the caution which she had ventured to give him respecting Lady Adeline; and that she gave him such caution, she trusted would have been ascribed to a friendly feeling for his happiness. "Yes, his happiness!" she repeated to herself; "for I could sacrifice my own to secure that boon for him. It is not frommotives of jealousy that I did so warn him, for I could bear to see him the husband of another, providing that other were really worthy of him, one who would share in his views, his plans, his feelings; but to unite himself with a woman wholly unfit for him—a girl, a weak insipid girl, made up of puritanical observances and prejudices—no, I could not see him set the seal to his future misery by allowing him to remain in ignorance of a fact which is known to all the world except himself."
In this sophistical manner did Lady Hamlet Vernon argue herself into the belief that no selfish motive impelled her, but that she was acting a noble part, and as the end designed was good, the means she thought were so likewise. In flattering this belief, she recalled every look and gesture of Lord Albert D'Esterre, and she thought she had perceived that he entertained a feeling of jealousy towards Mr.Foley. "Perhaps," she said, musing on that point, to which she had not before given her full attention, "perhaps his jealousy is not without foundation. Why is Mr. Foley so much at Dunmelraise? The circumstance of Lady Dunmelraise's protection of him through life, is not sufficient cause. After all, why should he not marry Lady Adeline, if she likes him? It would be a union much more consonant with Mr. Foley's happiness (inasmuch as he would not care what were her ways of thinking) than it would be for the noble-minded, aspiring D'Esterre."
In this new point of view Lady Hamlet Vernon found another specious argument in favour of her own conduct, and her secret wishes; and if indeed this latter assumption of a fact were true, she would be doing a doubly generous action, in forwarding the wishes of her friend Mr. Foley, while she at the same time saved Lord D'Esterre froma step that would inevitably render him unhappy.
Such were the false reasonings with which Lady Hamlet Vernon justified her feelings and her conduct to herself, and under their sway, she awaited with the utmost anxiety and impatience for Lord D'Esterre on the following morning. But it was late before he came, and he was abstracted and silent when he did arrive; unlike the animated being whom she had witnessed speaking to her with such force and expression of lively feeling on the previous evening. The fact is, Lord Albert D'Esterre had been at Lady Dunmelraise's, where he had found Adeline alone; and as, in her converse and presence, there was a soothing calm, a persuasive assurance, even in her silence, of her perfect purity and truth, those feelings of jealous doubt and mistrust that had preyed upon him before his visit to her, had gradually subsided while under the influence of herimmediate power. Above all, the interest she expressed for him, the alarm she declared she felt on beholding his haggard look, and suddenly changed appearance, awoke in his breast all those tender feelings which it was a second nature for him to cherish towards her.
He felt indeed that he could have laid his head on her breast, confessed his folly, and wept out his fault in having for a moment suspected her; "but then again," he thought, "it will be time enough thus to humble myself when I see proof that my suspicions are indeed groundless; and I shall not be acting up to my resolution, if I allow a moment of tenderness to put it out of my power to certify the truth of her's."
Mr. Foley's name was not once mentioned during his visit. Mr. Foley did not appear; and for the time Lord Albert D'Esterre felt happy. "We shall see," he said to himself, "if this fair shew is real; a short time willserve to prove its truth, and then my happiness will stand on a secure basis."
He took leave, therefore, of Lady Adeline with a mind much relieved, and having impressed her also with the sensation that he felt towards her, all he had ever felt; but no sooner did he quit her presence, than, with that waywardness of spirit, which is too often apt to embitter our best interests, he was impelled to call on Lady Hamlet Vernon, for the sole purpose, as he fancied, of gathering indirectly from her conversation a more clear insight into the subject of her discourse. But in her presence, he in vain endeavoured to lead her to it; she avoided all reference, however remote, to the cause of his inquietude, and when she touched on the topic of his public career in life, Lord Albert felt that it was done in so vague and wary a manner, as to afford him no clue whatever to what engrossed at that moment all his thoughts, and he involuntarily becamesilent, and manifested an indifference to all farther converse. When he arose to take his leave, if he was less happy than when he had left Lady Adeline, he was not conscious of any reason why it should be so; but that of which he could not fail to be conscious, was the sensation that a spell was spread around him, whenever he approached Lady Hamlet Vernon.
To her inquiries if he would join her circle in the evening, and if he were one of those invited to the water-party the following day, he answered with apparent indifference; and, with a doubtful half-formed promise to attend her in the evening, he left the house. He was bewildered and uneasy; dissatisfied with himself, and consequently with all the world; and Lady Hamlet Vernon was miserable on her part at witnessing his change of manner, and remarking the serious and preoccupied expression of his countenance, which seemed totally at variance with her wishes.
That evening Lord Albert dedicated to a few hours of quiet in his own apartments; but the habit, of any kind, which has once been broken through, is not so easily resumed; and in particular the power of sober application to serious pursuits is hardly by any man to be laid by and recovered at will. The mind which is suffered to float about, driven by the winds of chance, becomes unfitted for fixed attention to any one particular point; and the effort is painful which must be made before it can be brought to bear on reflective subjects, after having been suffered to follow the vague direction of the feelings, or the yet more debilitating influence of dissipation.
Lord Albert acknowledged this, as he had recourse to various books for amusement. His attention wandered; and now he was at Lady Dunmelraise's, now at Lady Hamlet Vernon's—but never was he on the subject of the leaves which he vainly turned over;and after an evening spent in vacuity, he felt as fatigued, and more dispirited than had he been deeply engaged in some mental effort. The consciousness of this lowered state of being was exceedingly uneasy to him. He was one who, for so young a man, had learnt thoroughly to know the value of time, and when it was thus utterly lost or misapplied, he could not forgive himself for the irreparable fault.
Lord Albert, too, had an impression fixed indelibly on his mind, that when we are not advancing we are retrograding in our mental or moral course of existence; and fortunately for him, he was yet keenly sensible to the reproaches of conscience. His determination at the moment, therefore, to redeem this heavy loss was salutary and sincere; and he felt a renovation in his whole being when he took his early walk next day to Lady Dunmelraise's, full of the good resolutions he had formed the preceding day. To be in thepresence of Lady Adeline Seymour, was like being in the sunshine of spring. There was an habitual serenity about her, which seemed to animate all around her; every thing and every sentiment of Adeline's was in its right place—no one took undue precedence of the other; the harmony of her form and features was a true reflection of her happily disposed nature; but that nature owed its very essence and continuance to the great ruling feeling of her mind. Every thought, and every action, were immediately or remotely under the guidance of pious belief: the nature of her happiness could not be uprooted by any earthly power; she might sufferanguish here; but she had a secret and secure joy that those only know who, like her, fix the anchor of their trust on an hereafter.
Having spent the greater part of the morning in such society, Lord Albert tacitly acknowledged its superiority to that in which he had lately lived, and the invitation hereceived to dine in South Audley Street was eagerly accepted. The party which he found assembled at Lady Dunmelraise's consisted chiefly of her family,—Lord and Lady Delamere, their two sons and daughter, and a few other persons who came in the evening. Lord Delamere was a shy man, and his shyness had sometimes the effect of pride; but the estimable points in his character were of such sterling value, that his friends loved him with a zeal of attachment which spoke volumes in his praise; and he was looked up to by his family, not only as their father, but their companion: nothing could be more beautiful than the union which subsisted between them; nothing more truly worthy of imitation than the virtuous dignity with which they filled their high station.
Lady Delamere still possessed great beauty; and the charm that never dies, the charm of fascination of manner and of air, defied the inroads which time makes on mere personalbeauty. She was one of those very few women, who unite to feminine gentleness the qualities ascribed to a masculine mind. At the time she married, her husband's affairs were so much involved, that nothing but the utmost self-denial could possibly retrieve them: and she entered into his plans of retrenchment with an alacrity and vigour, which proved her to be a wife indeed; not the play-thing of an hour, to deck the board, or gratify the vanity of the possessor, but a companion, a friend, a helpmate, one who in retirement possessed resources that could enliven and cheer the solitary hour: who knew she was loved, and felt she deserved to be so, with that security of honest pride, which the consciousness of desert never fails to impart in married life, and yet whose refinement and delicacy of feeling never lost the elegancies of polished manners, because there were no novel objects to excite a sickly appetite for admiration.
To please is certainly the peculiar attribute and business of woman, in every relation of life; and those who neglect to foster and keep alive this power, reject one of the greatest means which Providence has placed in their hands to effect mighty operations of good. But there is a false and spurious kind of pleasing which must not be confounded with the true. Every woman will know how to distinguish these in her own conscience. When the wish to please is a mere gratification of vanity, when it lives always beyond the circle of her own hearth, and dies as soon as it is called upon for exercise within domestic walls; then, indeed, it may be known for what it is: but when, as in Lady Delamere's case, this virtue shone most splendidly confined to the sphere of home, its price was above rubies; in short it might truly be said of her, "the heart of her husband doth safely trust in her."
At the time when Lord Delamere was in the greatest difficulties, he did not, as too many do, fly to a foreign country, to continue the life of self-indulgence which he could no longer maintain in his own; he did not make it an excuse for forsaking his patrimony, and the seat of his ancestors, that he could not live there in that splendour which he had formerly done; but with a spirit of true pride he said: "the land of my forefathers with bread and water, rather than banishment and luxuries." He made no secret of his poverty; and it was a means of clothing him with honour: for with patience in his solitude he found content, and with content all things. His self-denial enabled him to be generous to others: and the very act of living on his estates, gave bread to hundreds. Lady Delamere went hand in hand with him in all his plans; and they pursued, for some years, with untiring step, the path of duty which they had marked out.
Meanwhile, their family grew up around them, and every thing prospered—for a blessing went along with them: they were adored by their dependents; honoured even by those who hated them for their superiority; and with the occasional visit of a relative or friend their time flowed on, fruitful in its course, and fraught with real and substantial happiness.
But in this their retirement they were not forgotten. It is not those who are fluttering about their empty shewy existence in the sunshine of pleasure and splendour whose memories live longest, even in that very world they so busily court. All great and useful works are the fruit of retirement; all strength of character is formed, not in indulgence and prosperity, but in retreat, and under the grave hand of that schoolmaster Adversity. The corn is not ripened till it receives the first and the latter rain: neither is the moral character formed to its great end,till it has known the storms of adversity. The Delameres had now reaped the fruits of this earthly probation, and they shone forth with lustre, which could not be eclipsed by any tinsel splendour of mere outward grandeur. The children of such parents could not be supposed to be altogether different from themselves, for though there are anomalies in nature, it rarely happens that the offspring are not like either father or mother, still less that they are not ultimately influenced by the example of parents.
When Lord Albert D'Esterre found himself in this happy society, so different, and yet, as he acknowledged to himself in every passing moment, so superior to that in which he had lately lived, he felt as if he also were of another race of beings; a pleased sort of self-satisfaction took possession of him: so much are we affected by outward things, so much does the mind reflect the hues by which it is surrounded. Are these,he thought, the persons whose names I have been accustomed to hear coupled with ridicule or condemnation—are these the persons who are designated vulgar? Strange indeed is the misnomer! And that there were many in the same grade, whose characters shed lustre upon their high stations, many who constituted the true character of British nobles, was a truth that Lord Albert had not sufficiently considered; for where is there a body in any country more worthy of respect and admiration than the real nobility of our land? It is only to be lamented that the errors of the few, and the assumed superiority of theton, should have given ground for a false estimate of those characters of solid worth, whose virtues and whose ancient ancestry reflect a mutual value on each other; and the moral tranquillity of whose lives is at once a dignified refutation of the depreciation of high birth, and the best confirmation of its real consequence.But the middling classes, those who envy their superiors, or those who would attain to a distinction in society to which they have no immediate claim, are too apt in these days to form a mistaken judgment, founded upon newspaper reports or the spurious publications of the day, in which much false representation is mingled with some gross truths, and the delinquency of the few ascribed to the conduct of the many. Nor is it these alone, who are thus led into an erroneous opinion. The public press produces a circulation of good and evil, of truth or falsehood, universally; and wherever the latter creeps in, there ought to be an antidote administered. It should not be suffered to smoulder and gain force till it produce some serious mischief.
It should be told that the few individuals, whose idle and trifling lives, and whose tenour of conduct lay them open to contumely and blame, donotconstitute the great mass of English nobility. So far from it, they arepersons whose lives differ as much from the general existence of their compeers, as does the life of one individual in any class from that of another. Vice is not confined to nobility because a few great names have sullied its brightness. It is a false conclusion to considerthemas examples of their caste, any more than the man in inferior station, whose delinquency is proved, and who suffers the penalty of the law, is to be taken as a specimen of the people at large.
In the course of conversation at Lady Dunmelraise's dinner, the ensuing drawing-room was spoken of. "I am one of those old-fashioned persons," said Lady Delamere, "who feel a real pleasure in the thought of going to court—for first, I shall have the gratification of seeing my Sovereign, and of presenting to him another branch of that parent stock, who are personally as well as on principle attached to him and to his house. And though, doubtless, there aremany who share in these feelings, yet I will yield the palm of loyalty and zeal to none; and, in the second place, I do very firmly believe that, in as far as society goes, a drawing-room does much moral good. There are certain lines drawn, which are useful to remind persons in general, that vice is contemned, and virtue honoured; and there is a distinction, too, of time, and place, and situation, which is not yet laid aside; I heartily wish there were many more drawing-rooms than there are."
Lord Delamere fully agreed with his wife in this opinion—the young people did not giggle and whisper, "what a bore it will be," but coincided with their parents. Lady Mary Delamere too declared, that she thought there was no occasion better suited to shew off real beauty to advantage than the splendour of a mid-day assembly, where every thing conspired to give people an air of decorative style which they could not possessat any other public meeting. "What pleasure," she continued, "I shall have in going with my cousin Adeline, and gathering up all the stray words of admiration, which I am sure will abundantly fall in her praise. Do tell me, love," addressing herself to her in a half whisper, while the rest of the persons at table conversed on other matters, "do tell me of what colour is your dress, and how it is to be trimmed?"
"Really," replied Lady Adeline, colouring as though she had committed a crime, "I have not thought about it. All I begged of Mamma was, that it might be very simple, and, I believe, of a rose-colour—for a rose is my favourite flower."
"Dear child," said the good-natured Lady Mary, "you must think about it now, for the day is drawing near, and I shall be so disappointed if you are not well dressed."
"You are very kind, sweet cousin, but ifyou only knew how very little I care about the matter;" and she laughed heartily at the idea of its being a subject of the least importance.
"But, Lord Albert D'Esterre," said Lady Mary, appealing to him as he sat on the other side of Lady Adeline, "you will interfere, will you not? You will not be pleased, I am sure, lovely as Adeline is, to see her afigureat a drawing-room."
"What sort of figure do you mean?" he asked, smiling.
"Oh dear! you know well enough what I mean—unbecomingly attired."
"I think," he replied, "that although some figures will always be admired, still there is no merit in disdaining the usages of society or the advantages of dress, and that the neglect of appearance may in a young person be produced by some causes which are not desirable." He looked fixedly at Adeline as he spoke, and she blushed verydeeply; but answered with an unhesitating voice:
"I shall be always desirous of pleasing those I love, even in trifles; but I should be sorry that trifles occupied their thoughts."
Lord Albert was silent; he felt a kind of chill come over him, for the remembrance of Lady Hamlet Vernon's instructions recurred to him; and he thought he saw a species of puritanical pride in the general tenour of Lady Adeline's manner of thinking and speaking, which seemed to justify the observations she had made upon her character. Then again he feared, that in other points he might discover more reason still to be dissatisfied—points on which his vital happiness rested. He looked instinctively round the room; but the person who at that moment crossed his thoughts was not present, and he again wrapped himself up in that mood of suspicion, which is ever on the alert to seek out the object whichwould give it most pain; under this influence he returned to the subject of Adeline's presentation dress, and said, addressing Lady Dunmelraise:
"I am not particularly an advocate for splendid attire; but I am sure, Lady Dunmelraise, you will agree with me in thinking, that there is an affectation in going unadorned to a court, which is a sort of disrespect to the place."
"Indeed," said Lady Adeline, in her wild eager way, "I will not go to much expenditure on my dress, for I have a plan for doing some good going on, which will require all the money I can collect, and I should be very sorry to see mamma wasting her's on any thing which I so little prize as my court-dress."
Lady Dunmelraise only smiled, and replied, "We must all subscribe to Adeline's toilette, for she is the veriest miser on that score herself. However, Lord Albert, do notbe uneasy, I think she will not disgrace us," and the pleased mother passed on to other discourse.
This tenacity of Lady Adeline appeared to be a confirmation of his suspicions; and when, in the after part of the evening, Mr. Foley was announced, Lord Albert lost all command over himself, and under plea of a bad head-ache, sat silent, that he might the better watch every look and motion of Lady Adeline and Mr. Foley. Turning every indifferent word and gesture into the meaning with which his jealousy clothed it, he fancied that they were certainly mutually attached. Whatever soothing attentions Lady Adeline shewed to himself, he imagined were put on for the purpose of deceiving him; and his manner was so cold and haughty, that she in her turn began to shrink within herself, and to wear an abstracted, and somewhat distressed countenance.
Under this impression, Mr. Foley, withhisdoucereuxair, whispered Lady Adeline, "that he was sure she was ill," and asked her "to cast out the evil spirit by her sweet power of music."
"Do, my love," said Lady Dunmelraise, "sing that delightful duet, which is always charming, 'O Momento fortunato!' and then I feel sure we shall be all love and harmony—shall we not, Lord D'Esterre?"
The chords of the piano-forte relieved him from the embarrassment of a reply, and he listened to the impassioned tones ofpoi Doman, poi Doman l'altro, ascribing to every intonation and every sentiment of her feeling voice the dictates of a passion for his supposed rival.
"That used to be a favourite of yours, Albert," said Lady Adeline when the duet was finished; "but I am afraid your head-ache prevents you from enjoying any thing to-night."
"I do not feel well," he replied shortly;"and lest my indisposition should in any way affect the pleasure of others, I will hasten away."
"Oh yes, you appear ill, indeed!" said Lady Adeline, fixing her eyes tenderly on his; "and, dear Albert, perhaps you had better go—the noise of company may be too much for you:" and she held out her hand to him—"Oh, if you are unwell, by all means go home," she repeated, with an anxiety of tender interest, that no one else could misinterpret to be any thing but genuine affection, but which to him seemed to spring from the desire of his absence.
"You shall be obeyed," he said, returning her look reproachfully; and at the same time reaching his hat, which happened to lie on a table beyond Mr. Foley, he almost rudely snatched it away, and with a celerity of movement that admitted of no courtesy to any one present, departed. Lady Dunmelraise called after him, "Lord Albert, doyou dine here to-morrow?" But he heard not, or affected not to hear, and with the gnawing rage of blind jealousy darted into his carriage, and gave the order, "home."
Soon after the rest of the party broke up; and when Lady Dunmelraise and her daughter found themselves once more alone, their mutual silence proved that they both felt the strangeness of Lord Albert's manner of departure. But although the words were on Lady Dunmelraise's tongue to utter—"he is capricious,"—she restrained, and suffered them to die away in silence, determined that her daughter's own unbiassed judgment should form for herself that opinion of Lord Albert's character, which would soon now ultimately decide on her acceptance or rejection of him as her husband.
Itmay be recollected, that when Lady Glenmore returned from the water-party, she was cruelly disappointed at finding only a note from her husband. "How little," she thought, as she sat at her toilette taking off the dress which in the morning she had not despised, as having been approved of and admired by him, but which now she cast aside with disdain—"how little men know how to value the affections of a wife! I have been for many hours in what is called a gay scene, and during the whole of the time, I cannot recal one moment when Glenmore was not present to my fancy; but he, I dare say, on the contrary, has not given a wish or a sigh to me." She looked in the glass as shethought this, and although a tear dimmed her eye, vanity whispered, "ought this to be so?"
"I am at leastpretty; young, no one can deny; yet I am neglected for a number of old stupid men, a dull political discussion. Oh, those vile politics! how I hate them. And when he comes home, he will look so grave, so preoccupied! Oh, I wish there was no such thing in the world as a House of Lords or Commons. Is life itself long enough for love?—and must dull, dry business, consume the hours of youth, pale his cheek, perhaps blanch his hair, his beautiful hair, for they say care has whitened the locks even in one night! how very terrible this is."—And she arose, and walked to and fro in her room, and listened to every carriage that rolled by—then she took up Lalla Rookh—read some of the most impassioned passages, and wished herself a Peri.
"I have but one wish," she said, "thatwish is to be loved as I love."—Poor Lady Glenmore! this beautiful phantom of a young heart is, nevertheless, in the sense in which she framed it, a mere deceit. Love such as her's doesnotgrow by feeding on; there is a strength of character, a consciousness of self-dignity, the duties of a rational being, above all, the duties of a Christian, which must be cherished and understood, before any lasting fabric of happiness can be built on love. This was never more proved than in the restless impatience, the miserable (for such hours to such minds are miserable) anxiety and disappointment, which converted minutes into hours, and hours into ages, before Lord Glenmore returned. As she foresaw, when he did come, though he pressed her with almost rapturous tenderness to his heart, and inquired with trusting fondness at her party, hoping she had been well amused, he was himself so exhausted and harassed by business, that he professed himselfunable to talk. "Why did you sit up for me, dearest?" he asked; "you will fatigue yourself uselessly; and I must really insist in future that you do not do so. At least, if you had beenamusing yourself, I should, not be so sorry; but as it is, really Georgina, love, you must be better behaved in future—but why did you not go to the supper?"
"I came home to see you," she answered in a tremulous voice. Lord Glenmore chided her lovingly, and assured her that he had not less anxiously desired to return to her; but he said, smiling,
"You know you have the advantage over our sex, foryour businessis love—but ourbusinessis a matter apart from that gentler care. I long to tell you, my sweet Georgina, all that has interested me this day, and I think you will share in my satisfaction; but I am really unequal to enter into the details at present: to-morrow, love, you shall know all." Lady Glenmore only sighed; but withthe sweet docility of her nature, never questioned his will, and his being with her constituted in fact all she cared to know. The truth was, that certain changes in the ministry had long been talked of, and on that morning overtures had been made to Lord Glenmore to take on himself an important office. The whole of the morning had been occupied in settling preliminaries, and ascertaining the sentiments of these public men with whom he was to act: for Lord Glenmore was a conscientious man, and would not mount a ladder, which he intended afterwards to cast down. It was not place he sought, but power, for purposes alike good and great. He felt within himself a capacity for the honours and distinctions he aspired to, and knew on principle the responsibility which attends success in such measures.
One of the first persons, whom he considered to be a man of inflexible integrity,and whom he wished for as a colleague in office, was Lord Albert D'Esterre; and since the situation which he had himself received threw several appointments into his own hands, Lord Glenmore lost no time in writing him the following note:
"My dear D'Esterre:—I think that I shall not be making a proposal unacceptable to your wishes, or in discrepancy with your future plans, when I announce to you that I have accepted the office of ——. The official appointments immediately connected with it of course become mine, and it would afford me the greatest satisfaction in my arduous undertaking, to have one possessed of your talents to aid me in the performance of its duties. Would you accept the office of under Secretary of State in my department? I need not express my ardent hope that you will consent. You know that our views of public matters coincide thoroughly—letme therefore hear from or see you as soon as possible."Your's ever most truly,"Glenmore."
"My dear D'Esterre:—I think that I shall not be making a proposal unacceptable to your wishes, or in discrepancy with your future plans, when I announce to you that I have accepted the office of ——. The official appointments immediately connected with it of course become mine, and it would afford me the greatest satisfaction in my arduous undertaking, to have one possessed of your talents to aid me in the performance of its duties. Would you accept the office of under Secretary of State in my department? I need not express my ardent hope that you will consent. You know that our views of public matters coincide thoroughly—letme therefore hear from or see you as soon as possible.
"Your's ever most truly,"Glenmore."
After despatching this note, Lord Glenmore sought his wife, and entered into an account of what passed the previous day; he spoke of the increased expediency that would ensue of her living very much in society, whether he could himself be present with her or not; and added, that she must not allow any fears or mistrust, either of herself or him, to lessen the pleasure which it was natural, at her age and with her charm of person, she should derive from the homage around her.
"It is not mistrust, dearest Glenmore, that makes me feel joyless in your absence, for what can I fear?—it is true that I am uninterested in every thing, when you are not by to share my pleasure; but indeed you quite mistake me, love, if you supposethat I am not all confidence in you. And as to myself, what is there that can be for a moment dangerous to my peace, when all my interest, all my wishes, are centred in your love?"
"My own best Georgina," he replied, pressing her to his breast, "be ever thus, and what can I wish for more. But, love, mark me—you are now no longer the girl, whose duties were centred in passive obedience to her relatives, and whose recreations were the innocent, but trifling pursuits of girlhood; you are the wife of a man who is become a servant of the public—whose high cares must necessarily debar him frequently from the enjoyment of those domestic pleasures which a less busy or responsible life might allow. It is now become your duty, love, to feel your own consequence in his—to playyourpart in the scale by which his actions must be measured, and to be aware that many will court you from an idea of your being wife to aminister, who would not for your own sake alone, perhaps, have thought of you; while others who previously courted you for the charm of your presence and the beauty of your outward shew, will now doubly affect your society, and endeavour, it may be, to use your influence to undue purposes. All are not pure and single-hearted like you, my dearest, and these cautions, believe me, are not given as to one whose worth I doubt, but, on the contrary, to one whose very ingenuousness and worth may prove a snare to her. In all that concerns mere knowledge of the world I recommend you to look to Lady Tenderden and Lady Tilney; they have passed creditably through the busy throng, and are certainly in all respects fashionable, and bear a high consideration in the estimation of the London world. You cannot do better, then, than to shape your course by their's in respect to what the French callconduite; and to the dictates of the heart, and moral duties,I refer you to your own and your excellent mother's."
Lady Glenmore scarcely knew why, but her heart swelled almost to bursting while her husband spoke thus to her; and it was with difficulty that she restrained the tears which seemed at every moment ready to overflow. The truth was she dwelt upon his first words, his declaration that his newly acquired honour would debar him from the pleasures of home society; and she looked up timidly as with tender accents she asked, "whether she was doomed now to be always absent from him."
"I trust not, dearest; at all events, you know my best and fondest interests are centred in you, and you would, I am sure, consider your husband's advantage and glory to be of value to you, even though these were obtained by the sacrifice of his company."
She said "yes," butfeltdecidedly, that had she spoken the truth, the "yes" would have been "no."
Lord Glenmore received several notes, and with a preoccupied air which prevented his observing the melancholy depicted on his wife's countenance, he snatched a hasty embrace, and was hurrying away, when looking back he said, "Remember love, not a word of this to any one, even to your mother. A few days will release the restraint I put upon your tongue," he added, smiling; "but in you I expect to find thewonder, that a woman can keep a secret;—in all things, I believe in, and trust you. Adieu, love, adieu." And he was gone.
That which would have pleased a vain woman, and gratified an ambitious one, fell only like lead on the young Georgina's heart.
"So," she said, sinking down in a chair, "I am a minister's wife. And am I the happier? Far, far from it; I am seldom now to see my husband, and when I do, the concerns of thepublic are to form our consideration and discourse; whereas, hitherto, in the short sunshine of our marriage, ourselves, our mutual hopes, our own dear home, have constituted all our care; and I fondly trusted, perhaps foolishly hoped, would have continued to do so. What a desolating change! But he says I must prepare for it; and since it is his will that thus it should be, I will endeavour to hide the mournful feelings of my heart. My dear mamma shall not see that I have wept either, for she will, perhaps, ascribe my tears to my husband's temper, and that would be worse still." So saying, she roused herself from the despondency into which she had fallen, bathed her face, called up smiles which werenot genuinefor the first time in her life; and, having re-arranged her dress, she said to herself as she cast a glance at her mirror, "Am I not now metamorphosed into the wife of a minister?" Just as she was preparingto ring her bell for her carriage, Lady Tenderden arrived.
"How well you are looking,la belle aux yeux bleus," said Lady Tenderden, kissing her: "there certainly never was any body who had the azure of the skies so exactly reflected in her eyes." This might be true; but it certainly was not true that she was looking well. To a vague answer given by Lady Glenmore she made no allusion; but looking at her very fixedly, so fixedly that it made her colour deeply, Lady Tenderden said, "Yet methinks something more than usual has occurred—is the report true?"
"What report?"
"Nay, now, do not make thediscreet, for by to-morrow it will be in the newspapers. Come, tell me, your friend, am I not to wish you joy?"
"Of what, I may ask you in return, Lady Tenderden, for I can sincerely answer, that no increased cause of joy has befallenme, that I know of." This was said so very naturally, that her interrogator was posed. Judging by herself, Lady Tenderden conceived it impossible that the report of Lord Glenmore's having accepted a high office in government, which would have been the envy of so many, should be true; or else she thought the little lady must be more silly than she ever believed her to be. She went on, nevertheless, to sound Lady Glenmore in various ways, expecting to make out something relative to the subject; but Lady Glenmore's calm indifference totally foiled her, as she herself afterwards confessed; and she set it down in her own mind that for the present she could not be of any particular service to her, or derive any more reflected lustre from her, as being the friend of a woman whose husband was in power.
How the simplicity of a genuine character confounds the pertinacity of a keen worldlymind! Lady Tenderden was completely at fault: when another visitor, who came much on the same errand, afforded an additional proof of the truth of this observation. Lady Tilney came up to Lady Glenmore, and after the first salutation, entered with all her energy and eloquence upon politics; inveighing against government measures, and hoping that now a man of more liberal principles had come in, some change ofmeasuresat least would be adopted. Lady Glenmore sat abstracted, and began arranging her embroidery frame; seeing that there was no chance of Lady Tilney's speech coming to a conclusion:
"Well, my dear, and now," the latter said, "you will really have a part to play: how I envy you! What interest—what endless business will devolve on you! Were I you, I would propose to Lord Glenmore to write all his private letters for him; by this means you know you would beau faitof all the statesecrets, and could, in a great measure, guide things your own way. You write rapidly, I believe; and your hand is not bad; it wants a little more character perhaps: but you know there is the man who advertises to teach any hand-writing. I do assure you he is excellent—I tried him myself, and a very few lessons from him would teach you to give your writing the firm diplomatic air—and you would quickly learn that significant style which means nothing; and by which, should any thing occur to make you change your mind (Lord Glenmore's, I mean), you could twist the phrase into another meaning, suitable to the occasion. I am sure I am always for decision and truth; but in certain cases prudence and caution are necessary; and therefore these resources are requisite to be observed in diplomatic writing. If you look back, you will always see it has been so in all ministers' letters."
Lady Glenmore, who had sat silent hitherto,now conceived herself obliged to speak, and replied, "that she knew nothing of diplomacy, except the name; that every thing of the kind always made her yawn, and she hoped she should never have to copy any letters of business for any body." Lady Tilney in her turn stared, and observing that Lady Glenmore was very young, she said: "Well, but at all events you will be delighted to see your name perpetually with all the people in power; and to hear them say, that is the minister's beautiful wife! and the honours of your husband, at least to any one so domestically inclined, must be a great delight."
"I do not want Lord Glenmore to have any more honours than he has, for my own sake; but whatever pleases him will certainly please me."
"Oh, oh! so then you do confess it? and heisminister for ——"
"I am happy to hear it, if it really is toconfer all the honour you seem to think upon him. But I wish you would tell me whatyoumean, Lady Tilney, for I do not quite understand you." There was a sort of realnot caringabout Lady Glenmore, which deceived Lady Tilney, as it had done Lady Tenderden. It was a thing so totally out of Lady Tilney's calculation that any one should not be enchanted at such a situation, that she was persuaded either that the fact was not so, or that Lady Glenmore did not know that it was the case.
Just as this inquisition had ceased, a servant entered with a few lines written in pencil on a card, which he gave to Lady Tenderden: they were from Mr. Leslie Winyard, to say, that having seen her carriage at the door, and having something very particular to communicate to her, he requested ten minutes' conversation, if he might be allowed to come up. Lady Tenderden remembered Lady Glenmore's former scruples about receivinghim, but determined to overcome them.
"Chère ladi," she said, "you must positively, notwithstanding the fear of Lord Glenmore, allow me to see Mr. Leslie Winyard; I will take all theimminentrisk of the danger upon myself; and besides, you know, visitingmeis not visitingyou." Lady Glenmore looked exceedingly distressed, and said, "If you want to speak to Mr. Leslie Winyard, why can you not speak to him in your carriage?"
"Oh! that is so uncomfortable. Besides, Lady Tilney, I appeal to you, was there ever any thing so strange as Lady Glenmore's refusing to let Mr. Leslie Winyard come up stairs to see me, merely becausele tiran de maridoes not approve of morning visits from gentlemen?"
"Pho, pho," said Lady Tilney, "he was only joking, and that dear little good Georgina thought he was serious." Then turningto the servant who was waiting for orders, "Shew Mr. Leslie Winyard up stairs directly," commanding, as she always did, or tried to do, in every place and every person. In a few minutes Mr. Leslie Winyard made his appearance; and having paid his compliments to Lady Glenmore and Lady Tilney for some little time, he then stepped aside with Lady Tenderden, and after conversing together, apparently engaged on a most interesting subject, they returned to the other ladies, and he entered into general conversation with his usual light and amusing anecdote. At length, however, Lady Tilney arose, saying to Mr. Winyard, "well, notwithstanding youragrémens, I must go, for I have a hundred things to do." Lady Tenderden echoed this declaration, and they both went away, leaving Mr. Leslie Winyard, who seemed determined to sit them outen tête-à-têtewith Lady Glenmore.
The consciousness that any thing has beensaid on any subject, always creates in an unartificial mind an awkwardness when the predicament that has led to the discussion really occurs;—and Lady Glenmore experienced this painfully. Every instant the sensation became stronger, and, of course, was not lost to the observation of her companion, though he affected not to perceive it; and by dint of feigning ignorance, and talking on indifferent subjects, he arrived at bringing her into the calm and comfortable frame of mind he had in view, one in which she would feelle diable n'est pas si noir; and this he effected with his usual address, till he evidently saw that she was rather diverted than otherwise by his conversation.
He then led the discourse to music, and entreated her once more to sing theSempre più t'amoof Caraffa. She readily agreed, and their voices were in beautiful and thrilling unison when the door opened, and in came Lord Glenmore. His wife suddenly stopped,and rising from the instrument, looked abashed. Lord Glenmore, with the manners of a man of the world, addressed Mr. Leslie Winyard, regretted that he had interrupted the music, declared that he had some letters to write, and prayed him to finish the duet. But Lady Glenmore tried in vain to recommence singing—her voice faltered, her hand trembled, as she touched the keys—her eyes wandered to her husband with an expression of inquiry and uneasiness; and Mr. Leslie, too much the man of the world, and too much skilled in hismétierto push matters at an unfavourable moment, declared that he was exceedingly sorry, but found himself under the necessity of going away, having an appointment on business which he could not put off. Apologizing, therefore, to Lord Glenmore, to whom he always took care to pay particular deference, for not being able to remain, he hurried out.
Lady Glenmore hastened with considerabletrepidation of manner to explain to her husband how it had chanced that he found her singing with Mr. Leslie Winyard; but Lord Glenmore seemed more deeply engaged in thinking of the letter he was perusing than of what she was saying, and only looked up smilingly in her face, and said, "My dear love, why are you so agitated about such a trifle?"—"Is it a trifle?" she said: "well, then, I need not care, and am quite happy again." She kissed his forehead; and further discourse was prevented by a servant's entering, to inform Lord Glenmore that Lord D'Esterre requested to see him if he was disengaged. Lord Glenmore immediately desired that he might be shewn into his private apartment; and at the same time gave orders that no one else might be admitted except the persons whose names were on the list; then pressing his wife's hand tenderly, but evidently much preoccupied in mind, he left the room.
"Is it possible," thought Lady Glenmore, looking after him—"can this bemyhusband, who so lately appeared to have no thought save what we mutually shared? and now we seem suddenly cast asunder: different interests, different hours, different societies, all seems to place us, as if by magic, apart, and to divide us from each other. He too, who dwelt so particularly on my not receiving morning visits from young men, now seems to think it is become a matter of indifference, or rather not to think about it at all. Has power then changed him so quickly? What a horrible thing power is!—how it transforms every thing into its own heartless self! Surely, surely, it is the most miserable thing in the world to be a minister's wife!" To dissipate the melancholy she felt, she ordered her carriage, and proceeded to visit her mother, who she found was ill, having caught cold in coming out of the Opera.
"Why did you not inform me of yourindisposition before, dearest mamma?—I would have been here early?"
"I know, love, that you would not have been remiss in any kindness; but when a woman is married, her first duty is to her husband; and I fancy," she added, smiling, and implying by her manner that she knew more than she would exactly say; "I fancy Lord Glenmore will occupy more of your time than ever, dear Georgina, if what is reported be true."
"I am sure he will never prevent my coming to you, under any circumstances; but really he has so much business, that I see less and less of him every day."
"Indeed!" said Lady Melcomb, looking rather blank. Fortunately for both parties, Lord Melcomb came in from his morning walk, with a countenance even more bright and cheerful than was his wont. "So, my love," he cried, "I fear you must now be no longer my little Georgy, if the currentnews be true, I must look at you in a new light—eh?" and he examined her countenance.
"I am very sorry to hear that, dearest papa; I was so happy in the old one, that nothing can make me wish to change in your eyes."
"Come come, love, tell us now, has Lord Glenmore accepted the appointment of —— or not?"
"Whenever he tells me to say that he has done so, I shall certainly, my dearest papa and mamma, make you the first to be acquainted with the event."
"Well, Georgina, I see how it is: you need not say more, for you are already quite diplomatic in your mode of answering. But you are right, my child: whatever confidence your husband reposes in you, you ought to regard it as sacred;" and Lord Melcomb changed the subject like a good and a sensible man, who wishes really that his childshould prove a good and faithful wife. "You have given the best earnest any girl can give," he said, "my sweet Georgina, of being an invaluable treasure to your husband, by having first been such to your parents; and the obedience you paid us should now be implicitly transferred to Lord Glenmore. The woman who has not learnt obedience, is likely to be very unhappy: for it is surely one of the first duties in every sphere of a woman's life. You know the lines, that I have so often repeated to you, and I am sure you practise them, my own Georgina, as forming the great golden rule to be observed by a married woman: one who