"Certainly not; and it is quite invigorating to witness her unsophisticated manners, and the genuine entertainment she derives from that which she is come professedly to be diverted by; but then the more's the pity, for it will not last long thus."
"Do not forebode evil," replied Lord Raynham, who was in one of his bestcouleur de rosehumours; "remember there were, and are, among theprécieuses ridicules, depuis tout les temps, des Mesdames de Sevigné et de Connel, and I forget all theirnames, who retained their own innocent individuality, and their natural grace of mind, amid the most decided affectation and the most ridiculous pretensions."
"Yes, but they were exceptions to general rules; and I do not augur so well of that one," still meaning Lady Glenmore, "under the care of thatAlcoviste," alluding to Mr. Leslie Winyard.
"Is not that Lady Tilney sitting alone in her box?" asked Lord Raynham: "I must go make my obeisance, as in duty bound, or I may chance to be discarded; and as we have no Molière to overturn our Hôtel de Rambouillet[1], we had better keep its door open to us."
"Agreed," said Mr. Spencer Newcombe; and, bowing to Lady Glenmore, they departed, leaving Mr. Leslie Winyard tenaciously keeping his conspicuous place, with cane at lip, and glove in hand, and eyes that were gathering the observations passed upon him with lynx-like sharpness, while they seemed half closed in listless or consequential apathy. In a few minutes after, the curtain dropped.
"Oh!" said Lady Glenmore, "I am so sorry it is over! I do not know when I have been so amused."
"I, too, am sorry it is over; butamusedis not exactly the explanation I should give of thecause of my regret;" and he endeavoured that his eyes should explain what hedidmean.
"No!" said Lady Glenmore with perfectnaiveté; "then perhaps you have seen the play often before, and have been looking at the company, not at the stage?"
"Did you ever play at the game called Magical Music?" asked Mr. Leslie Winyard; "and if so, and that I were the performer on the instrument, I should now touch itforte fortissime, for you are very near guessing the truth."
"I do not understand you," said Lady Glenmore, still unconscious of his drift, and her attention caught by some one who was entering, and causing a considerable stir. She hoped it was Lord Glenmore, which made her ask suddenly what o'clock it was. "I am sure," she added, "it must be very late, and I fear Lady Tenderden is not coming; and Glenmore, too, said he would come; but I begin to be afraid theyneitherof them will;" and her countenance changed, and another spirit than that of girlish amusement took possession of her, and she became silent, overcast, and disquieted.
"Were they to cometogether?" asked Mr. Leslie Winyard, insidiously laying a peculiar emphasis on the last word.
"Oh no!—that is to say, not that I know of. Lady Tenderden did not tell me so." Mr. Leslie Winyard half smiled, and then, as if checking himself, he rejoined carelessly, "Oh! you know these diplomatists are the most slippery fellows imaginable; that is their trade: they are so taken up with the affairs of the nation, they forget all other affairs. But itisodd that Lady Tenderden also should have forgotten her engagement to you."
Lady Glenmore made no reply, but she became more and more uneasy: her colour went and came "like colours o'er the morning skies." She looked anxiously around, and started at every step that seemed to pass the door of her box, but yet, remembering certain lessons she had received, she contrived to keep under her uneasiness.
"Is there any thing I can do?" said Mr. Leslie Winyard, with an air of interest and concern. "I am afraid you are not well. Would you like to go home? I dare say my carriage is at the door, if yours is not arrived, and that you would do me the honour to accept it."
"Oh no!" she replied; "I am equally obligedto you, but I shall await the end of the performance."
Mr. Leslie Winyard now thought it was necessary to use all his art, to draw off her attention from the subject that engrossed it, and, if possible, fix it on himself.
"I am not apt," he said, "to be often in good-humour with myself; in truth, I have not much reason; but I am half inclined to suppose there must be some redeeming clause in my composition, for I have frequently observed that, after an hour or two of this sort of thing, you grow restless and weary, and I declare I always feel the same. I plume myself mightily in having discovered this similarity between us."
"Pardon me, you are quite mistaken. I am often exceedingly well diverted in public; and when Lord Glenmore is with me," and she blushed, as if she had said something she ought not, "I am generally well pleased to stay late, for I am never sleepy."
Mr. Leslie Winyard thought that it was more troublesome to counteract nature by art, than overcome art itself by art, as he replied,
"Oh! certainly, I understand that; but what I meant to say was, that it is not these scenes whichafford one any real happiness; it is the society of a few friends, a selection of persons who suit each other, and who like the same things, and who are occupied in the same interests. For instance, how very much more enchanting it is to be singing a duet with you, than sitting at an opera, hearing the artificial execution of those who sing by profession! for surely the true intention of music is, that it should express our own feelings, and transport us into a sort of half-beatific state, such as that expressed by your 'Sempre più t'amo.'"
All this sentimental jargon, so different from the real nature of the speaker, was accompanied by those glances of admiration which spoke a much plainer language than even his words; but though the innocent Lady Glenmore was as yet unaware of their tendency, and did not see through the artificial refinement which Mr. Leslie Winyard thought it worth his while to assume, in order to induce her to listen to him at all, there was, nevertheless, a secret sense of genuine purity in her heart, which made her dislike the license of his gaze; and she answered, fixing her eyes on him with all the composure of perfect innocence, "It is very delightful to me to go to the Opera; and the perfect finish of the singing of professionalpeople teaches me to improve my own. I am much obliged to you for the compliment; but I assure you, if you only heard me sing with my master, you would acknowledge that it is quite a different thing from what it is when I sing with you, for I was always afraid of putting you out, and that spoiled the little power I have."
This speech certainly didput him out, and in his heart Mr. Leslie Winyard cursed what he called herniaiserie; but he determined that, sooner or later, he would be revenged. Concealing, however, his mortification, he replied, "You were too good to consider me in any way; but I am sure nothing that you could do would ever give me a feeling of displeasure, whatever it might do of regret." He modified the expression of his eyes as well as that of his words, and entered with her into a long comparison of the charms of Paris and London in their respective societies and manners, which engaged her attention; and she listened with great complacency for some time, during which he had continued to move his chair nearer and nearer her own, and to appear to the public to be deeply engaged in the most interesting conversation, while, at the same time, he succeeded in allaying any discomfort she might have felt at his own too-markedadmiration, previously shown, by turning her attention into a totally different channel, and determining to reserve a more open avowal of his sentiments for a more favourable and distant period, when suddenly the box door opened. Lady Glenmore started forward with an exclamation of surprise and pleasure, supposing it to be her husband; but in this she was mistaken, for Lady Tenderden entered alone.
"I beg your pardon, mydear ladi, for being so late," said the latter; "but you know how impossible it is to get away in any time from a dinner party"—[theimpossibilitiesof a fine lady are to be understood with certain modifications and meanings which do not belong to the literal signification of the word]—"and I regret being detained on all accounts;" Lady Tenderden went on to say, "first, because I have lost your society; then, for the sake of de play, which of all things I wanted to have seen: but you have been amused, I hope?"
"Oh, exceedingly!" replied Lady Glenmore; and then her countenance was overcast again at her husband's absence, and she sighed heavily, so that Lady Tenderden hardly knew what to think, and for a moment began to suppose that she had arrivedinopportunely, and disturbed atête-à-tête; but then, again, remembering the character of Lady Glenmore, she only turned to Mr. Leslie Winyard, and whispered, in allusion to a circumstance connected with thePrécieuses Ridicules, "I am sureyouhave been well entertained, although you have only been studyingla carte du tendre." Lady Glenmore was too much absorbed in her disappointment, to pay any attention to their conversation; and when she roused herself from her reverie, she longed to ask Lady Tenderden if she knew any thing of the House, and whether it had broken up or not; but she feared to incur her ridicule. Other men came into the box to pay their court to Lady Tenderden; and Mr. Leslie Winyard contrived, in the general move that took place, to secure the chair immediately behind Lady Glenmore's, and endeavoured to regain her ear; but her mind was quite abstracted, and herself totally uninterested in all that was passing; so he leant back in his chair, and affected to be absent also, that he might appear to others to be occupied sympathetically with herself.
At length Lady Glenmore could restrain her inquietude no longer; and turning suddenly round, she said, "I wonder what can detain Lord Glenmore! he promised to join me here." The differentpersons looked at each other and smiled significantly; some in pity, some in derision, all in contempt.
"Oh you know, my dear," replied Lady Tenderden, "dese conjugal appointments aresenséto be broken; dey are de pie-crusts of life." Every body laughed, and poor Lady Glenmore coloured, as she felt a sort of indignation rise in her heart against the whole scene and the actors therein.
"But make yourself quite easy," Lady Tenderden added in a sort of childish voice, "dere is no danger for Lord Glenmore; I will be answerable for his safety."
Mr. Leslie Winyard affected to feel for Lady Glenmore, and to disapprove of this joke; and turning to her, he said in his mostdoucereuxtone, "You may depend upon it, a very long debate has taken place, and engages Lord Glenmore's absence from hencenecessarily. It was always expected that the House would sit very late to-night: what else could keep him away fromyou?" he whispered, with an expression that was intended should soothe her; and it did soothe her, and she felt grateful, and rewarded him by one of her sweetest smiles, saying,
"I conclude you are right." It was not long, however, before Lord Boileau came into the box.
"Boileau, are you come from the House?" said Mr. Leslie Winyard.
"No," he replied; "the House was adjourned very early on account of the ex-minister's illness, whose explanation was looked for."
Lady Glenmore heard this circumstance with a beating heart; and looking reproachfully at Mr. Leslie Winyard, she said, "You see you were mistaken; why did you deceive me?"
He affected, for a moment, to be overcome with disappointment and chagrin, and then said in a low voice, "Oh, be not uneasy; there are so many things may have detained a man in his station. Why do you suffer yourself to be thus wretched? Would to Heaven he knew! If he did but know, surely, surely he would be here. But how people mistake their own happiness! Were I in his place—"
"You would be where he is," said Lady Glenmore with composure.
"Doubtless," rejoined Mr. Leslie Winyard with great presence of mind, "for we cannot change natures with any one; nor indeed do we ever wish it." And then he relapsed into silence.
Although Lady Glenmore felt piqued and mortified at her husband's having broken his promise to her, she could not bear that any one else shouldcast the least blame upon him; and she dismissed her chagrin, and forced herself to talk gaily, as though her heart was light.
Mr. Leslie Winyard, apparently yielding to an irresistible impulse of admiration, once, and once only, whispered to her, "Admirable creature! it is only I that see through this disguise, and honour you for the sacrifice you are making of your feelings, considering the motives by which you are actuated."
She turned this speech off as a joke; but there was something in it which, though it pained, yet pleased her. How difficult it is for the purest natures not to lean to self-approbation when it comes in the soft breath of praise! Nevertheless, the minutes seemed hours to her till the curtain dropped, and she arose quickly to depart.
"Where are you going,ma chère dame?" said Lady Tenderden. "Positively you must come with me. I have apetit soupèron purpose for you; and as Lord Glenmore knows of old that it is my custom to have this always after de play, having been prevented from joining us here, he will not fail to come to my house, and we shall find him waiting for us."
"Do you really think so?" asked Lady Glenmore hesitatingly.
"Yes, to be sure I do; at all events, you can but come and try; it will be always time enough to go home afterwards." These persuasions, adroitly pressed, won upon Lady Glenmore's easy credulity, and she suffered herself to be handed down stairs, and got into Lady Tenderden's carriage.
"You look quite divinely to-night," said Lady Tenderden to her as they drove along—"positivelyravissante; vous ferez fureur, je l'avois toujours prédit. Even when you had dat horrible Englishmodisteto dress you, you were always lovely; but now—now that you have devraie tournure, and datle coupe de vos cheveux, and de plait of your petticoat, isd'après le dernier goût, depend upon it, all de hearts will fly to you."
Lady Glenmore laughed outright, it might be a little maliciously; for she knew that no scissors, however classical in the estimation of her companion, had touched the luxuriance of her beautiful hair, or any body but her old English maid fashioned her petticoat; but she enjoyed the mistake, and only thought, "This it is to be a minister's wife!"
When arrived at Lady Tenderden's house, every thing was prepared for the reception of thepetit soupèr, that is to say, about twenty people of theélite; and the rooms were lit only to that precise degree of brilliancy which is best expressed by ajour tendre; but there wasno Lord Glenmore.
Some of the gentlemen loitered round the instrument, touching the notes, and humming some fashionable airs. "Apropos," said Lady Tenderden, "nobody sings like Lady Glenmore, and Mr. Leslie Winyard will accompany her in a duet."
"Pardon me," said the latter, "I sing so ill, I should onlyput Lady Glenmore out," and he looked at her significantly; "besides, joking apart, I have such a cold, it is impossible I could utter a sound. But perhaps Lady Glenmore may be prevailed upon to favour us with an air, which will come doubly recommended when not marred by such an ignoramus as myself. Here are all sorts of beautiful things lying about;" and he turned over the music. "Not only all the modern, but all the half-antiquated compositions. Above all, here is my old admiration; and it has this advantage over many of its cotemporaries, it hasechappé belle, and is not hackneyed, for this cogent reason, that hardly any bodycansing it. I mean Haydn'sAriana à Naxos."
"Oh, charming!" echoed one or tworealamateurs;"do, Lady Glenmore, do let us prevail with you to grant us the favour."
"Come," joined Lady Tenderden's voice with the rest, "I am sure you will not have ended beforeTeseowill have arrived." Lady Glenmorewasprevailed on to comply; and though she began unwillingly, it was a composition so much in unison with her actual feelings, that unconsciously she became identified with its expression; and she sang with such impassioned tenderness, and looked so much the Ariana that she sang, that all the men were in unfeigned raptures, and Lady Tenderden sat biting her lips in despite for having pressed her to the trial of her skill. Once or twice Lady Glenmore paused when there was a change in the movement, and half rose, saying, "This is too long, you will be tired;"—but she permitted adouceviolence, and, reseating herself, finished the wholescena. However delightful her performance, and however delighted her audience might be, the odour of the delicate viands that now awaited them made a powerful diversion in favour of the latter; and withempressement, while murmurs of applause were still on the lips of many of her auditors, they hastened to arrange themselves at the table.
The Comtesse Leinsengen, who was of course of the party, observed to Lord Baskerville, as he placed himself by her, "I am quite glad to put de taste of dat horrid dullTeseoout of my mouth. How people can be sobaroqueas to choose such long old-fashioned things, good for nothing but your German professors!"
Lady Tenderden said, "Avouez, moi milor, qu'une romance ou barcarolle vaut bien mieux."
"After all," said Lady Baskerville, "music is a good thing, but supper is a better." And now came the general clatter of tongues and knives and forks, sweeter than all the harmony of the spheres.
"I have made a vow," said Mr. Leslie Winyard to Lady Glenmore; "guess what it is."
"No, tell me; for I never guessed any thing in my life."
"Why, never again to sing with you, even should you deign to ask me, for I am quite convinced of the truth of your hint, that I only mar the perfection of your song; and besides, the true way to feelwith you, is to seeyou feel, unoccupied by any thought of one's own." Then, as if he avoided dwelling on the theme of his admiration, he talked gaily, and glanced at various topics with that agreeable lightness of manner which scarcelytouches what it lights on, and alternately made her laugh and nearly cry, till her spirits got into that state of excitement which obscures reason, and leaves the mind in some degree open to impressions that, at soberer and more reflective times, it would cast off as not analogous to its healthful state.
It was at a very late hour that this party broke up. Day was breaking, and with its clear pale light shaming their orgies, before Lady Glenmore was actually on her way down stairs to depart; but suddenly the morning was overcast with one of those thunder-storms not unusual at the season, and torrents of rain burst from the clouds. A heavy thunder-clap, that made the very houses rattle again, broke over the spot where she stood: for an instant she paused, appalled, while the company were rushing up and down past her, and snatching their various coverings, to shield them as they flew to their carriages.
"You are not afraid?" said Mr. Leslie Winyard, gently pressing the arm that rested upon his.
"No, not afraid," she answered; but her countenance was very serious, and something seemed to reproach her for being in such a scene at such an hour without any natural protector. She movedon, however, to her carriage: it was the last at the door. "How do you go home?" she said to Mr. Leslie Winyard.
"Oh! any how," he answered; and he looked around. "I see my people have thought it wise to avoid the storm, and left me to take care of myself."
"Can I not set you down?" she asked, from an innocent impulse of good-nature; and again a still louder clap of thunder rebounded over their heads, and it was with difficulty the coachman held his horses, as they reared and plunged violently.
"If you will be so very gracious," he answered, stepping in after her; and at the same time the carriage door was shut, the footman leaped up behind, and off the horses flew to —— street.
"I am quite shocked," he said, "to take you out of your way; but really I think it was not quite safe, with these young horses, to let you go home alone, and unattended by any protector, in the midst of this terrific storm."
"Oh! as to that, I am sure Lord Glenmore would never let me have horses that were not to be depended upon."
"Will that tiresome name," thought Mr. LeslieWinyard, "never be out of her mouth;" while he replied at the same time, "Doubtless he would havethatcare; for who would not be happy to have such a precious charge as your safety delegated to him?"
"I am very tired," said Lady Glenmore, yawning; "I wonder what made me stay so late; but I will never do so again."
"I fear, indeed," he answered, "that this, to me, most fortunate moment will never return, and that I may never again be able to feel that I am of the least use to you." At length they arrived at Mr. Leslie Winyard's door. He reiterated his thanks, took his leave, waited at the threshold till he saw her carriage depart, and Lady Glenmore proceeded home.
No sooner was Lady Glenmore alone, than she began to reflect on the unsatisfactory way in which she had passed the night. She felt sorry that she had been prevailed upon to go to the supper, or, having gone, that she had staid so long; and, last of all, she regretted having set Mr. Leslie Winyard down in her carriage. With these excited feverish feelings, she arrived at her own door.
As soon as she began to undress, she learnt from her maid that Lord Glenmore had come homeearly, had waited till one o'clock for her ladyship, and then gone to bed. "Dear, how provoking!" she said, tearing off the ornaments she wore; "what could possess me to remain out so late! How sorry I am!" and all the while she was demurring in her own mind whether she should tell her husband that she had set down Mr. Leslie Winyard, or pass the affair over in silence. "He may be angry; and I meant no harm; and I cannot bear to see him displeased. Why should I tell him? a thing, in fact, of such common occurrence, and, in itself, so perfectly innocent." Thus, instead of going to peaceful rest, did a feverish inquietude take possession of her mind; for the first step of a married woman from the high road of unquestioned purity is doing any thing, however trivial in itself, of which, having done it, she feels she wouldrather nottell her husband.
AsLord Albert ascended to the drawing-room, followed by Mr. George Foley, whom he had so inopportunely met at Lady Dunmelraise's door, he felt his heart beat quick within his breast (notwithstanding the chilling reserve with which a cold indignation steeled it), on the sudden return of those jealous suspicions which blazed forth afresh on finding the object of them on the very threshold of Lady Adeline's presence at the same moment with himself.
Lord Albert was uncertain whether he should see Lady Adeline, or only be admitted to Lady Dunmelraise. The former, however, had so far regained an outward composure, that she had determined, should Lord Albert call, to get over the pain of their first interview, and drink the very dregs of her mortification at once. "I cannot suffer more," she said, "under any circumstances; and in the strength of this anguish I may be betterable to endure, and receive it with becoming dignity, than at an after-time, when my treacherous heart may again yield to delusive hopes."
Lady Adeline's mind, however, during the few hours which had elapsed since Lady Dunmelraise had spoken to her, had profited by her mother's kind and salutary counsel, and had, besides, found strength, in that true spirit of resignation which bows to every event, with a perfect conviction that every thing which concerns us is under the guidance of a merciful Power who directs all things for our ultimate happiness; and she acknowledged, with a feeling even of thankfulness, that, painful as the trial was, it might have been far more painful, under circumstances which must have rendered it of a deeper and more irremediable nature. But after all that poorhumannature can do, the sense of sorrow for a time overpowers all others; and when Lady Adeline heard Lord Albert's well-known step, she would have fled his presence in despite of all her previous resolves, had she not felt rooted to the spot.
It was a relief, therefore, to her, when he was announced, to see Mr. Foley enter with him. Lady Dunmelraise was not in the room; and it was perhaps as well that Adeline had no consciouswitness of what was passing in her breast at the moment, as it enabled her to bear herself with more apparent ease of manner, than if any person acquainted with her heart's secret had beheld the meeting. She received Lord Albert's extended hand, but there was a mutual and chilling coldness in the touch, too unlike the feeling which usually accompanied the action, for them not both to be aware of the difference of this from any former greetings; and each ascribed to the other the cause of this sad change.
Lord Albert was looking pale and harassed, but he was perfectly calm, and inquired, with that steady voice which a sense of deep injury conveys at the moment, after Lady Adeline's health, while he expressed his concern at the indisposition under which she seemed to have suffered so much the preceding evening. Her reply was short (for she did not dare to trust herself with any allusion to the cause of her illness), and she thanked him in as natural a manner as she could assume; but her lip was blanched and quivered, and a tear was almost glistening in her eye. To any one who knew what was really passing in her heart, she would have appeared to have been saying to herself, "Is it possible this is Albert? my Albert?" But turning theconversation to some indifferent subject, she addressed herself with a semblance of vivacity to Mr. Foley; that false vivacity to which the suffering heart, when taking refuge from the moment's pressure, resorts, in order to conceal its true feelings. Unfortunately Lord Albert was himself too much blinded by his own at the time, to see through the specious disguise she assumed; and with the perversity of jealous love, he put a false construction on her every word and whole demeanour, and thought he beheld in both the full confirmation of his suspicions.
Under this false view, Lord Albert turned with visible indignation away, as if to avoid the pain which Lady Adeline's behaviour inspired; and he seemed to be intently admiring the pictures which hung on the walls, and which he knew by heart: but as his eye wandered over them, in fact, unconsciously, it rested on a portrait of himself,—the same which, when awaiting Lady Adeline's arrival in London with such lively impatience, he had then missed from its usual station. How a trifling circumstance has power to double pain or pleasure, when it comes thus laden with past and present allusion to the interests of the heart! The idea at that time of its being her companion wasjoy to his spirit. With what very different feelings did he regard itnow! The whole of his late hopes seemed to him a mockery, and his heart sickened at the thought as he again turned from the contemplation and threw himself into a chair.
There was a soul-searching glance of tender reproach in the look which he cast upon Lady Adeline. She coloured deeply, and was so intensely affected, that it was with difficulty she could support herself. Had there been no witness of their emotion, that moment would have brought them to a mutual conviction of their true sentiments for each other; but as it was, Lady Adeline strove to hide her feelings by turning her countenance away from him, and talking with more earnestness in a low, quick voice to Mr. Foley. Lord Albert rose, paced the room hurriedly, and was on the point of rushing away, when at that moment Lady Dunmelraise entered the apartment. At sight of her Lord Albert recovered his self-possession. He approached Lady Dunmelraise with composure, though with rather more of formal dignity in his manner than he was accustomed to show towards one whom he knew so well, and whom he had so long considered almost as a mother. There was a similar restraint on her part; and to his measuredexpressions of regret on the subject of Lady Adeline's sudden illness the preceding evening, she replied coldly and briefly, and then passed on to indifferent subjects, in which all present took their share. Lord Albert, however, rarely addressed himself to Lady Adeline or Mr. Foley, but seemed pointedly to confine his conversation to Lady Dunmelraise; while Lady Adeline, on her part, fearing to lift her eyes to him, or trust her voice with the most trivial expression immediately directed to him, continued to talk to Mr. Foley, though in so unconnected and absent a manner, that could he have overheard what she said, something like the truth must have been forced upon his mind.
After remaining a short half hour, which appeared to the parties most interested like half a century, Lady Dunmelraise, wishing to act on the principle she had explained to her daughter, of showing no very marked difference towards Lord Albert, said, "Adeline will not venture out this evening for fear of a return of her headache. Perhaps, Lord Albert, if you are not engaged, you will dine and pass a quiet evening with us?" It is difficult to say how far Lord Albert, whose heart was ever alive to the slightest kindness, would have rejoicedto accept this offer, and grasp at the cherished idea that his society was still wished for, had not Lady Dunmelraise, in the same breath, turned to Mr. Foley, saying;
"George, will you not be of the party, and dine here too?" There was a momentary cloud passed over Lord Albert's brow, and Mr. Foley had accepted the invitation before he could reply. At length, after a painful pause, Lord Albert said;
"I should be happy, Lady Dunmelraise," and he spoke rather pointedly, "to avail myself of the wish you have expressed to see me, but your invitation reminds me that I have neglected to announce an event with which, perhaps, you are already acquainted, but which I conceive our intimacy demanded that I should make known to you myself, and which I came here this day for the express purpose of doing, or I should not have obtruded myself while I thought Lady Adeline's indisposition would probably have prevented you from receivingany one;" and he looked reproachfully at her as he said this. Lady Dunmelraise could not suppress a movement of astonishment. Adeline stopped for want of breath in her conversation with Mr. Foley, not knowing to what announcement Lord Albert alluded; and there wasbut one thought present to her fancy, one subject superseding all others in her mind; but she endeavoured to still her extreme agitation by saying to herself, "He never could have the refinement of cruelty to break off our engagement so publicly in the presence of an indifferent person." She awaited, nevertheless, in a state of terror that almost deprived her of a sense of hearing, what he would next say.
After a considerable pause, or one which seemed such to her, Lord Albert spoke.
"I do not know whether you care about politics, Lady Dunmelraise?" At this word, politics, Adeline took courage.
"No," said Lady Dunmelraise, at once relieved and recovered from her surprise, for she also had thought his preface strangely portentous; "no, I do not," she said: "they are not a woman's province, except in as far as regards the interests of those dear to her. But what of them?"
"Why only that changes have taken place, and——."
"Oh yes," interrupted Lady Dunmelraise, as an increasing expression of sunshine broke over her countenance, "I have heard that various changesin the cabinet were intended, and that some of my friends were to be advantaged by the move."
"It is in confirmation of these reports that I came to inform you. I now myself fill a place in the administration: not that it can be of any consequence," he added, with some pique, and his lip trembled as he spoke; "but as you used kindly to express an interest in me in former times, I have thought it my duty that you should not learn this circumstance from any other than myself."
"Oh, my dear Lord Albert!" replied Lady Dunmelraise, "I am always happy to hear of any event which you deem conducive to your happiness: I hope that this, together with every future step in your life, will be so likewise; and I very sincerely give you joy of having obtained this object of your wishes. Adeline," turning to her daughter, "you too must express your congratulations to Lord Albert." This was almost too much for Lady Adeline's full heart, but without venturing to look directly at him, she said;
"Oh, I always do, mamma, wish him happy in every way." Lady Dunmelraise was aware of her daughter's emotion, and endeavoured to relieve her by addressing Lord Albert herself.
"These arrangements will not, however, I hope,prevent our seeing you at dinner to-day: you are not already so involved in the affairs of the nation as not to be able to spend a few hours with your friends?" Lady Adeline listened with the impatience of sickening hope for his reply; in vain trying to soothe herself with the idea, that were he once more as much in their society as he used to be, he would love them as dearly as ever.
"I am grieved," he said, in answer to Lady Dunmelraise, "that it is quite out of my power, for I must be at the House almost immediately: a lengthened debate is expected on the subject of the late changes, and it is necessary I should be in my place."
"We are equally sorry with yourself, dear Lord Albert! but we hope another time to be more fortunate." Another pause ensued. Lady Adeline's spirits again sank, but she continued her painful effort to rally, by talking more than ever to Mr. Foley; and Lord Albert, fancying that his presence was as irksome to her, as remaining longer was painful to himself, immediately took his leave, and left the house mortified, miserable, and out of humour with himself and the whole world. He had really stated the fact, in pleading public business as the cause of his declining Lady Dunmelraise's invitation;and he had hardly time to reach the House before the commencement of the debate. On arriving there, and soon after he had taken his seat, it was announced that the member was seriously indisposed who had been expected to give one of those explanations which (such is the low ebb of character among British statesmen of the present day) every one who has held part in the government of the country has latterly thought it necessary to make in vindication of his public conduct. The question was consequently put off; and the House, after some business of little importance, and moving for new writs for those members who had accepted situations under government, adjourned at an early hour.
Lord Albert found himself thus relieved from the tie which had prevented his accepting Lady Dunmelraise's invitation; but it was no longer a question with him, as it would have been under other circumstances, of returning to South Audley-street, and stating what had occurred to set him at liberty, and requesting to avail himself of the opportunity to receive the pleasure of dining there. This would have been the act of a healthful mind, but under the mental disease which now tormented him, he turned with scorn from the idea; for he saw everything in a distorted point of view, and ascribed to Lady Dunmelraise and her daughter the unworthy design of intending to provoke him to a relinquishment of his engagement with the latter, either because they did not choose to break with him themselves, or because they were not, perhaps, yet sure of Mr. Foley's intentions. Nothing but jealousy could have raised such a suspicion, so unworthy of them and of himself, respecting persons so long known, so much and justly esteemed, so clearly loved: but what chimera is too monstrous not to be born of that fiend which had taken possession of him? Under this species of aberration, for it can be called by no milder name, he threw himself on his horse, rode off, careless whither he went, and found himself in the park.
All theéliteoftonwere congregated around Kensington Gardens, and amongst the carriages waiting, he observed Lady Hamlet Vernon's. In the turbulence of his emotions, and in the press of business during the morning, he now recollected that he had forgotten to tell her of his official situation, although he felt that from her at least he would meet with a sincere and lively participation in the satisfaction he experienced at the success of his opening career in the political world. But hisheart was not satisfied; and, suffering under his fatal delusion, he needed the balm of kindness, and turned to her for its bestowal. Giving his horse, therefore, to his servant, he went into the Gardens with the intention of finding her. They met as she was on the point of leaving the party she was walking with, and returning to her carriage. He accosted her with a sort of interest in his manner which could not fail of being agreeable to her, and they continued walking and conversing earnestly on the subject which he briefly communicated to her.
So earnestly, indeed, did they discuss the matter, that they found themselves at length almost the only persons in the Gardens, and were reminded only, by this circumstance, of the lateness of the hour. Lady Hamlet Vernon, astonished, looked at her watch, and finding it past seven o'clock, said she must hasten home, as she had invited persons to dine with her, and pressed Lord Albert to join the party. This he promised to do; and he felt a kind of false pleasure in thinking he should, at least, be in the society of those who really valued him; for there was a sting of pique and mortification at his heart, which Lady Hamlet Vernon's conversation had not diminished, andwhich made him gladly seek refuge out of himself for consolation. After the dinner, the party broke up to go to Almack's, and Lord Albert D'Esterre,desœuvréand dissatisfied, was easily persuaded to accompany Lady Hamlet Vernon. On entering the room, the first person whom he recognised was Lady Delamere and her daughters. He bowed to them, and he thought they returned his bow coldly. This circumstance did not escape the observation of Lady Hamlet Vernon, and she talked of the Delameres in a way which, though quite untrue, Lord Albert was at the moment too much in a temper to listen to.
"I often wonder," she said, "if all the uninteresting persons were ejected from society, how few would be left. But I believe, if this were the case, the evil would only assume another shape; for an assembly like this, if all were perfect, would be the dullest thing in the world: it is the mixture which affords us amusement."
"Besides," rejoined Lord Albert, "le monde est plein de fous, et qui n'en veut pas voir doit demeurer tout seul, et cassèr son miroir."
Lady Hamlet Vernon did not quite like the possible application of the adage; but she endeavoured to turn the spleen which she saw was thefeeling of the moment with him into the channel best adapted to her views. "It is not fools," she continued, "that I find so much fault with, as dull and insipid people. There is Lady Delamere, again, for instance, who is one of your good mammas walking about with her chickens, all so measured and somime, that one is sure a happy erratum could never occur in their life or conversation. There is no hope that they will ever change, for they are 'content to dwell in decencies for ever.' Their very loves and hatreds are measured out by the square rule of fit and proper; and if the friend they liked best made any deviation from what they deemed the proper course, they would discard such an one from their favour. This I hold to be cold-hearted and selfish policy, sheltering itself under the mask of virtue; for the fact is, that half that class of people build their power upon a pretence to superiority in moral excellence, not for its own sake, I am certain, but for the sake of obtaining the favour of general opinion, which their slender means ofagréments(they have sense enough to know) would never give them."
"Do you mean, then, to say, that all superiority of purity in conduct or character springs from such false and ignoble sources? That, dear Lady Hamlet,you know is impossible; for the same fountain cannot send forth sweet waters and bitter." Lady Hamlet Vernon felt that Lord Albert was not in a mood to pass lightly over any thing that was said on serious subjects, and quickly corrected herself, adding;
"Far be it from me to think that there are notsomenatures genuinely pure and noble.Mais ne vous en déplaise.I cannot endow thatbonne pâte de femmewith such brilliant investment. Lady Delamere, my dear Lord D'Esterre, is, as you must know, the dullest, heaviest person I ever conversed with; and allow me to tell you she can give herself sufficient airs of consequence. Nevertheless, I have known several instances in which she scrupled not to sacrifice persons that it suited her to put down.Au reste, I make no doubt she has all those good qualities which quizzes always teem with."
"Really," said Lord D'Esterre, "you astonish me! I thought at least she had been good-natured."
"Your own good-nature does not allow you to see these things; you have been used, you know, to consider all that party perfect; but"—Lord Albert sighed deeply—"but you will find," continued Lady Hamlet Vernon, fully aware of themeaning of that emotion which had escaped him, and wishing to abstract his mind from the cause, by adverting to mere general topics, "you will find that the world is made up of classes. There are the Duchess D'Hermanton, Lady Borrowdaile, Lady Aveling, form one class; Lady Melcombe and her people form another; your friends the Misses D. another; and we, you know, form a class totally apart." Lord Albert listened to this kind of conversation sometimes with attention, sometimes abstractedly. His mind frequently adverted to totally different subjects; but still he sat by Lady Hamlet Vernon's side the whole evening, or walked with her about the rooms.
In doing this, he was not aware of the occasion he gave for remark; still less did he know that Lady Delamere had observed him in Lady Hamlet Vernon's box the preceding evening, and that that very circumstance had caused Lady Adeline's illness; for if he had guessed this truth, different indeed would have been the result of his morning's interview with her. His appearance again, on the present evening, with Lady Hamlet Vernon, very naturally occasioned Lady Delamere's altered manner; but he saw in her behaviour only the confirmation of an intention, on the part of LadyDunmelraise and her daughter, and of the whole family, to break with him altogether. Neither did it occur to him, so prepossessed was he with the idea that Adeline was happier in Mr. Foley's society than in his own, that his excuse for not dining with Lady Dunmelraise must now appear to have been false, and framed expressly for the purpose of fulfilling another engagement. How very different would have been his feelings, could he have known the anguish he inflicted on her who still loved him so truly; and the additional wounds she would receive, when the circumstance of his seeming devotion to Lady Hamlet Vernon, during the whole of that evening, with the aggravation attending it of his supposed duplicity, should become known to her!
The fact was, although he was perfectly unconscious of it, that Lord Albert's attentions to Lady Hamlet Vernon began to be considered in the light of aliaisonby the world; yet notwithstanding he was deemed too wise to risk matrimony, yet that was the last thing cared for. In society, arrangements which includedonenow generally included the other. The young men rejoiced in Lord Albert's being brought to their own level, as they thought; and all who had any thing to hide in theirown conduct felt less afraid of his superiority, when they saw him on the verge of an intrigue of the same nature as many of their own.
When, at length, Lord Albert D'Esterre returned home, the hum of voices, and the unmeaning admixture of dancing tunes, mingled together in utter discordance, still sounded in his ears, and he felt provoked at himself for having wasted many hours so unsatisfactorily. The tension of the mind, under the action of such feelings as those which agitated his breast, is never really relieved in similar scenes or by similar means; and the false, feverish excitement produced by them, when it passes off, leaves the sufferer a thousand times more low and debilitated than before he had recourse to them. Lord Albert turned every way but the right way to find peace; and when sleep did visit him, it was not the balmy friend which comes to the pillow of an approving conscience.
Theday at length arrived, to which so many had looked forward with lingering expectation, and which, to the young in general, was one of delightful anticipation. Among these, however, there was one who, though both young and beauteous, and likely, under other circumstances, to have enjoyed the idea of coming out into the dazzling scene of the world, remained unmoved by the general festivity, from a dread of the trial which the scene would probably bring to her feelings.
Lady Delamere had communicated to Lady Dunmelraise the circumstance of her having seen Lord Albert D'Esterre the preceding evening at Almack's, and of his being engrossed the whole time with Lady Hamlet Vernon;—intelligence naturally productive of the most painful conclusions, and which, of course, received considerable aggravation in Lady Dunmelraise's mind from the excuses made by Lord Albert for not dining inSouth Audley-street on that day. She however felt that, although most painful, it was right to inform Adeline of this fresh instance of Lord Albert's unfeeling conduct, in order that she might, by so doing, lead her more and more to wean her affections from a person so unworthy as he now appeared to be, and help to destroy the remaining hopes which her daughter might otherwise retain of his returning affection.
Lady Adeline might well have thought that she had been prepared for the worst, and imagined that her cup of sorrow was filled to the brim; but at this additional circumstance she felt, that the human heart is never so full of bitterness, but that there may be added some drops of gall. Her usual serenity, however, did not wholly forsake her; but her first impulse was to entreat her mother to spare her the trial of attending the drawing-room.
"I wish," she said, "to be suffered to gain strength in retirement, and to seek for resignation, where you, my dearest mamma, have ever taught me it can alone be found. Some day or other," though she did not believe what she was saying, "some day or other, I dare say, I shall be quite happy again; onlynow"——But at that moment thequite happywere words too much in contrast to thequitewretchedat her heart, for her lips to be able to pronounce, and in a passion of tears her feelings found relief.
Lady Dunmelraise suffered them to flow unimpeded, and when she regained composure, said, "My dearest child, I insist on nothing to which you think yourself unable; but if youcanmake the exertion, do so, for my sake and your own. Reflect on the humbled feelings of your mother and of yourself, if Lord Albert should ever know into what a depth of sorrow and humiliation he has plunged us both."
"Mamma, mamma, he must know that; for does he not know, has he not seen, have I not shown him a thousand times how very dear he is to me? and, after all, what should I be, if I were not humiliated by his desertion?"
"Most true, dearest, in heart; but there is a prudence and decorum to be preserved in outward seeming; a respect due to ourselves, in not displaying our feelings to the unfeeling world, who only trample upon them with unheeding carelessness, and can never appreciate their depth or value. I can well understand, my dear child, that you will be making an heroic effort, by going into public under the present suffering state of yourheart; but I do ask of you to make that effort; for I know, by experience, that there is muchrealpower gained over ourselves by assuming itsappearance."
This conversation ended by Lady Adeline's promising to do every thing her mother wished for her dear sake, whom she loved with more than filial affection; and, having once given this promise, she determined to fulfil it nobly. The satisfaction which follows any sacrifice of selfish feelings to the wishes of those whom it is our duty to please is never-failing, and, under every circumstance, affords a peace which can never be obtained by their indulgence to the dereliction of principle.
But, notwithstanding all Lady Adeline's amiable qualities, and all the estimable motives of her conduct, she could not avoid the natural pangs of sorrow and anxiety, which she, in common with every human being, is doomed to experience. Come they must in some shape or other to all; happiest are those who entertain them wisely. The whole of that day, an ebb and flow of dread and doubt passed over her in alternate tides of hope or despondence;—of doubt, if Lord Albert would again call,—of dread, lest, if he did call, she should betray herself to him; yet of hope, that he might putthis trial to the test,—and of despondence, as the hours passed away and no Lord Albert appeared.
Fortunately, before we are tired of sorrow, sorrow tires us, so that wearied nature finds refuge in sleep despite of itself; and this was the case of Lady Adeline, whose eyes, while yet full of tears, were closed in slumber: but it is the wakening again which is the trial; then we seem to have derived fresh power to suffer, and the sad vision of grief is presented to us with renewed vitality. Such were Lady Adeline's feelings when her maid brought to her bedside the attire and the ornaments with which she was that day to be adorned, in order to enter upon a scene of pleasure which to most young hearts is attended with so many fascinations.
"Take them all away, Mourtray," she said, "take them all away; it is not time to dress yet." And when the time did come, how many painful recollections marred every thought of pleasure! Should she see Lord Albert in the crowd? was the first question she asked herself; and if she did see him, how would he behave to her? how should she behave to him? If he were unoccupied by any one at the moment, and apparently disengaged from any interesting conversation, she thought she could go through the scene; but if he were talking to onewhose name was now too well known to her, and too closely allied with the cause of her misery, she feared that neither the time nor the place would be sufficient restraints to sustain her under the trial.
"Every body," she said, looking at herself in the glass, "every body must read my story in my face. These red, red eyes, these swollen lips!"—And then she started up from her seat and cried, "No, no, it must not be thus! it is for my dearest mamma's sake I am going, and for her sake I will master my emotion, I will endeavour to assume the tranquillity which she recommends." Repeated immersion of her face in cold water, and the being told that a short half hour only remained to the time appointed by Lady Delamere for her to be at her house, restored, in some degree, the beauty of her complexion and the animation of her eyes; while the bustle of necessary haste imparted that glow to her cheeks, which, though called forth by feverish and fervid feelings, could still boast of being the delicate dye of the rose. Her dress was in itself of the simplest and most unadorned fashion; and when her jewels were presented to her by her attendant, most of which had been gifts from Lord Albert, she laid them all aside, and positively declined wearing any.The extreme luxuriance of her light, crisped hair, braided and curled in many a graceful fold, was her only decoration; except that, as she passed a myrtle (the gift of Lord Albert also), she hastily plucked a branch of it, and placed it with some care in her bosom. How deceitful is the human heart! and, above all, how deceitful is the passion of love, which conceals itself under a thousand disguises! The jewels were discarded, but the flower was chosen; that flower, which, for its emblematic associations, was ten times dearer to her, and spoke a softer language than the diamonds' blaze or the rubies' dye. Thus while denying, she cherished, love! Oh, woman, woman! you alone know the meaning of the word, its thousand concealed tendernesses, its purity of essence, its endless springs of increase!
Lady Dunmelraise, when she took leave of her daughter, pressed her to her heart, and as she blessed her with an honest pride, thought there could not be a fairer, purer being, among the glittering throng. "Be of good cheer," she said, "love, and sustain your own dignity."
When Lady Adeline arrived at her aunt's house, she had to undergo the gaze of the persons assembled to look at the dresses of those who weregoing to court, whose remarks, as she passed, kept alive that flutter of spirits which prevented her from indulging in softer feelings, and on the present occasion was of infinite use to her. On beholding her dress, her cousins exclaimed against the total absence of ornament or jewels; but she said, it was of no consequence, nobody would look at her; and when they all offered her variousaigrettesand necklaces, she besought them not to insist on her wearing them.
"I have plenty at home," she said; but added, with a melancholy smile, "I have made a vow to wear none." Lady Delamere understood her, and thought her own loveliness stood her in good stead of any extraneous aid. At all events, she conceived it was cruel to press her further; and as time admitted of no delay, they went to their carriage through a line of persons drawn up on each side, all of whom bore testimony to Lady Adeline's beauty. They went slowly along in the splendid equipage, which, in the magnificence of old family state, attracted unusual attention; till, coming to St. James's-street, they were obliged, by the string of carriages, to continue moving on at a foot's pace. And here again the gaping crowd made no inapt observations as the glittering throng passed in array before them.
One singular-looking, fat man actually followed the carriage a considerable way, evidently in admiration of Lady Adeline; and observed to the person near him, loudly enough for her to hear what he said, "As forshe, so plain-dressed like, she's the biggest beauty of 'em all," pointing at her; "but she wears all her diamonds and pearls in her eyes and mouth." The people around roared and laughed, apparently in approbation, and even Adeline smiled and blushed. By the time they arrived at the entry of Buckingham House, her cheeks were glowing, and her eyes sparkling, with an excitement which was, she acknowledged to herself, salutary at the time, though factitious and evanescent. The brilliancy of the scene too, so new to her, was not without its effect. The rich liveries of the attendants, the military, the truly British grandeur of the yeomen of the guard, the blaze of beauty, of dress, and of smiles, struck Adeline with admiration and momentary pleasure; and in her own natural way, she said to one of her cousins,
"This is a noble sight. I am glad I came. Mamma is always in the right." But then in another moment she sighed; and remembering all the circumstances that had so recently passed, the whole moving mass of feathers, flowers, and jewels, became oneundistinguishable confusion, without power to charm or awaken her interest. But all this while, she was borne along on the stream of the crowd; and she heard, amid the buzz of voices, her own name, and then the observation which followed it. Women always talk of the dress of those they wish todenigré, and of course Adeline's was commented upon, and found great fault with. "Quite improper, I declare!" said old Lady Honeyman to her distorted daughters, whose features, under the influence of the dancing St. Vitus, seemed to redouble their activity in honour of the shaking brilliants with which they were covered; "I declare it is quite improper to come to court as if one was in one's chemise! perfectly shocking! quite indecent! Poor thing! had she nobody belonging to her who could lend her a pair of earrings, at least?"—"What a beautiful creature!" cried another voice; (a man's, of course) "did you ever see any thing like the harmony of her features and the shape of her ear? it is quite classical; and she has none of those horrid girandoles pendent to it to spoil its form."
"Who is she?" "who is she?" went round and round in audible whispers; and the last speaker pressed onwards, somewhat careless of the convenience of his neighbours, on purpose to get another view of her.
"How people do squeeze!" said the enraged Lady Honeyman; "it is like a bear-garden. Elfrida, my love, take care of your diamond cestus: Lauretta, do not lose your rubyaigrette.—There, sir, there!—you have torn my Brussels lace lappet all to pieces with the hilt of your sword!"—And at this appeal the gentleman looked down on the little yellow dwarf with infinite dismay and many apologies; and stopping to disengage his sword from the ill-fated lappet, cast an evil eye upon the black Lauretta, who assisted to disengage the lappet, wishing her in the shrine of her namesake, where all her diamonds might receive that homage which he was only endeavouring to pay to the unadorned Adeline's genuine beauty.
At length Lady Adeline and her party reached the room in which the sovereign stood; and Lady Adeline found herself suddenly in an open space, from whence the monarch, and those persons attached to his household, could distinctly see every person separately who entered. Lady Adeline felt awed, for she had imbibed a respectful attachment to the person of her sovereign, and her young feelings were those of enthusiastic loyalty.
Lord Albert, who in his official situation had the privateentré, had not yet seen Lady Adeline, andat the moment she appeared in the door-way, was talking to Prince Luttermanne; when the latter, with his habitual admiration for every thing young and new, was so struck with her appearance, that he broke off his conversation, saying, "Who is that very extraordinarily beautiful girl now entering?" Lord Albert, whose back was towards her, turned suddenly round, and, on beholding her, was so overcome by a sudden revulsion of feeling, that he could not directly reply. He hesitated, his countenance changed, his lip quivered; and, after a considerable pause, he abruptly said, "Oh! that is Adeline." Prince Luttermanne looked astonished, saying at the same time, "Who the deuce is Adeline?" but Lord Albert had not waited to answer any further inquiries. He moved away round the back of the circle, to get a more distinct view of the object so unexpectedly presented to him;—an object still dearer to his heart than any other upon earth, and one whose presence, when, as thus, suddenly brought before him, was never-failing in overturning all the sophistry of art, and all the juggles and distortion of jealous passion. In the present instance she stood before him as the personification of innocence and truth.
In the midst of splendour and of beauty,herbeauty shone forth in its unadorned power, and in the freshness of its morning purity, pre-eminently bright in perfect simplicity. She was not unconscious of the admiration she excited; but that very consciousness added to her charms: it deepened the roseate colour of her cheek, gave additional lustre to the tremulous sparkle of her eye, and threw over her whole air and person that veil of diffidence which imparts grace to every movement and interest to every glance. Lord Albert gazed on her with intense admiration. He thought of the time when he had looked forward to the present epoch in Lady Adeline's existence, as to one in which he should be a partaker in her triumph, and gather up the suffrages paid to her beauty as though they were so many offerings bestowed to gratify his own feelings and confirm the superiority of his own choice;—but, as it was, how differently did he feel!
She was now nothing to him, he was nothing to her; she cared not for his approbation or his censure; she knew not whether he was to be present at this her firstdebutin the world, or not: and then, again, a change came over his fluctuating feelings, and recalling to mind the thousand instances in which she had proved her attachment to him, the truth fora moment flashed before his fancy, and in despite of all that had lately occurred, he believed himself dear to her. How an enamoured imagination catches at trifles, and is the sport of hope or fear! Lord Albert for a moment felt the full glow of tenderness and trust float over his whole being, like a refreshing dew over a thirsty land; and as he moved along, unheeding the gay crowd that flitted past him, he sought only for the one object whom he desired to behold. He now caught a glimpse of her, and then lost it again, obscured by some feathered headdress, or some uninteresting intervening object; but, at length, he reached a spot from whence he had a full view of her, as she half knelt to kiss the sovereign's hand, and was raised again by the most graceful action; and Lord Albert had the gratification of thinking he saw an expression of gracious admiration in the sovereign, as he turned to one of the lords in waiting, evidently making some remark on Lady Adeline.
But all this while Lord Albert failed in catching her eye; and he now retraced his steps as hastily as the crowd would allow, in order to reach the door by which Lady Adeline must necessarily go out. In this attempt, however, he was disappointed, for such was the pressure and hurry of the officers toprevent a crowd in the presence-chamber, and Lady Adeline was so rapidly hurried on, that she was quickly lost to Lord Albert's view by the intervening multitude. He had not even the gratification of once catching her eye as she passed; for, added to the celerity with which she was compelled to move on after her presentation, she felt, as was natural to one so young, a degree of mingled flurry and awe, which kept her eyes fixed on the ground.
This, however, did not suggest itself to Lord Albert, and he questioned himself to ascertain whether her apparent unconsciousness of his presence was real or feigned. Notwithstanding this doubt, Lord Albert continued his pursuit of her, and was so long unsuccessful, that he began to think she must have left the Court. As he made his way with difficulty through the crowd, he heard her name frequently mentioned, and always accompanied with praises of her beauty. As expressions of this kind fell on his ear, he could not forbear feeling that it was profanation for any one to dare to speak of Lady Adeline but himself: so unjust and so monopolizing is the spirit of jealous love.
At length, Lord Albert, almost despairing of meeting with Lady Adeline by moving about, determinedto fix himself at the outward door of the saloon, where he knew that she must pass in going away. Here he resolved to await the departure of the whole crowd, and, at least, ascertain the fact; but he had only taken this position a very short time, when Lady Hamlet Vernon appeared on the stairs, and nodding to Lord Albert as she descended into the great hall, approached, and took the seat which of course he relinquished to her. However much he had, of late, sought her society, and felt entangled by the spell which she knew so well to cast over him, there existed, at the present moment, a disposition to emancipate himself from the thraldom, and he felt her presence to be an intrusion. In proportion as these feelings increased, so did the restraint in his manner and conversation become more evident; and Lady Hamlet Vernon was much too penetrating, not to be aware that some strong interest directed his attention from her.
He had remained some time in this embarrassed situation, which a mutual consciousness rendered every moment more painful. Answering Lady Hamlet Vernon's questions mechanically with his lips, while his thoughts and eyes were wandering in quest of the only object he wished to see, he suddenly beheld Lady Adeline, with Lady Delamereand her cousins, at the bottom of the staircase, and was on the point of abruptly leaving Lady Hamlet Vernon's side, and darting towards her, when Lady Adeline's eyes were for a moment directed to him. A mutual glance was interchanged, as brief as it was powerful, and he felt that at least she had seen, had recognized him, and in that single glance their souls had met and felt together; but her eyes quickly dropped, she spoke hastily to Lady Delamere, and they mutually turned, as if to re-ascend the staircase. This movement, however, although its intention was evident, was so in contradiction with Lady Adeline's glance of recognition, that it did not deter Lord Albert from ardently wishing to speak to Lady Adeline; and he was hastening away, in despite of Lady Hamlet Vernon's endeavours to arrest his attention, to join the former, when a cry of "Throw open the window! water! she faints!" struck his ear. The sound came from the opposite quarter in which he was going; but when he perceived the bustle, and the crowd endeavouring to make way for some person who was ill, and whom they were trying to bring into a freer current of air, his first impulse was to stand aside also, and lend his assistance for that purpose. In doing this, he soon recognised the lady who hadfainted to be Lady Glenmore, borne in the arms of Mr. Leslie Winyard; and then, with renewed interest, as the wife of his friend Lord Glenmore, he pressed forward, and succeeded in making a passage to the window, the sash of which he threw up, and partly aided in placing Lady Glenmore on a seat: he then hastened away for water and restoratives.
Every one was forward in tendering assistance to the minister's wife; and whilst many officiously stood around her, others, of better judgment and kinder intentions, went in search of Lord Glenmore.
"What a lucky fellow!" cried Lord Boileau, one of the idlers who was standing near; "what a lucky fellow that Leslie Winyard is, to have the carrying of that beautiful creature in his arms!"
"Oh! you knowc'est une affaire arrangé," said Lord Gascoigne. "She never speaks to any one else now."
Lord Albert heard these remarks with indignation as he returned with water, and could not help casting a look at the speakers, that they well understood.
"Upon my word," observed Lord Boileau, "that man is quite insufferable. I thought he was improved since he lived amongst us; but I suppose he looks forward to rival Leslie Winyard, and will nothear the lady's fame called in question on account of any one but himself."
"Bah!" replied Lord Gascoigne; "Lady Hamlet Vernon will never suffer that."
"Is that really as people say?" asked Lord Boileau.
"Oh! quite settled long ago," answered Lord Gascoigne; "and as she is amaitresse femme, she will not allow him to forsake her quietly."
"How very beautiful, how very lovely she is, Boileau!" said Lord Baskerville, approaching at that moment; "now that she can neither talk nor laugh, she is quite charming—hem! I never knew before that she was handsome—hem! She ought to do nothing but faint—hem!"
"Yes," they both replied, "she is very lovely indeed." "I rather envy Leslie Winyard," cried Lord Boileau: "that fellow has always been lucky. But have you seen Lady Adeline Seymour,la nouveauté du jour? Rather raw and unfledged yet, but she will be a very fine creature a year or two hence."