"Don't you know her story?" whispered Lord Baskerville, approaching his mouth to the ear of Lord Boileau.
"No—yes—I did hear something of it. She is going to be married, isn't she?"
"Shewas," rejoined Lord Baskerville, looking very wise; "but, a-hem! that's all off now. I know all about it—hem! forheis so involved, hem! that marriage is impossible—hem! And really the poor girl hasechappé belle; for I never knew such a puritanical affected—hem! I cannot conceive what the women see about him to endure him for a moment—hem!"
By this time the report of Lady Glenmore's having fainted spread through the rooms, and there were assembled around her Lady Tilney, Lady Ellersby, and the Comtesse Leinsengen.
"I do not wonder you were overcome, my dear Lady Glenmore; it was terribly hot," said Lady Tilney in her most coaxing manner. "These vile drawing-rooms are quite enough to kill one. Such a heat, and such a crowd of Heaven knows whom! And then to see whom, or what? for one never sees the ostensible object for whom one comes here. If it were not to oblige Lord Tilney, and because one must, I would never come to such a horrid place again. My dear Lady Glenmore, you who have suffered so much are, I am sure, out of all patience with the whole thing."
Lady Glenmore, who had by this time quite recovered, and who was placed very comfortably enjoyingthe fresh breeze that came to her unpolluted by the heat and breath of the crowd, as she sat close by the window, now resumed her accustomed smiling cheerfulness, and replied,
"Not at all, Lady Tilney; I assure you I have been much amused, and think it is a very splendid scene;—so much beauty, so much magnificence, that I was quite provoked at myself for being overcome, and unable to enjoy it; but I am perfectly well againnow, and I hope another time to be more used to it."
"Quelle niaiserie!" whispered the Comtesse Leinsengen to Lord Baskerville. "She ought to go back to her nursery."
"Nothing is so tiresome," replied Lord Baskerville, "as low people who are always diverted. They must be false or fools, a-hem! after their first existence in the world—hem!ourworld I mean—hem! As to me, I don't care for any thing or any body, and am always bored to death here, a-hem! ar'n't you?"
"C'est selon," answered the comtesse in her most abrupt manner.
"Don't you know," cried Lady De Chere, "that there are a certain number of people who live upon getting up scenes all their life? they are always either fainting, or crying, or haranguing."
"It's very bad taste," rejoined Lord Baskerville, "at all events—hem!" At this moment Lord Glenmore came up to his wife, betraying considerable agitation, and inquiring tenderly of Lady Glenmore how she felt, and speaking to her in a low voice of earnest solicitude; to which she replied with answering affection.—Mr. Leslie Winyard moved away, affecting more displeasure than he really felt.
"What a fuss Glenmore is in! Vulgar!—hem! I cannot conceive," said Lord Baskerville, "why people should display their conjugal felicities to the world."
"The old song, I think," observed Lord Raynham, who was passing by, and overheard the remark, "gives good advice:—
'Ne cherchez pas la quintessence;Contentez-vous de l'apparence.Qui veut trop voir, et trop savoir,Trouve souvent plus qu'il ne pense.'
'Ne cherchez pas la quintessence;Contentez-vous de l'apparence.Qui veut trop voir, et trop savoir,Trouve souvent plus qu'il ne pense.'
"A polite inquiry, that did not enter into particulars, might perhaps have suited better the interest of all parties, than that apparently minute inspection of circumstances—eh! Baskerville?" with a sort of sneering smile—"don't you agree with me?"
"Certainly, hem! nothing is so mistaken, or argues such want of knowledge of the world, as to beaffairéabout any thing."
"To be," observed the Comtesse Leinsengen, "is one ting, toseemto be is anoder: in dat lies desavoir vivreor de nosavoir. But did I not hear my carriage was up?"
"Yes, comtesse; allow me to have the honour;" and she accepted his offered arm and departed.
"D'Esterre," said Lord Glenmore, "I leave you to take care of Lady Glenmore, whilst I go in quest of our carriage; your gallantry will, I am sure, accept the charge."
Lord Albert felt really flattered, and would at any other time have been happy to have such a post assigned to him, had it not been that he feared in consequence to lose seeing Lady Adeline. This thought gave his countenance an anxious, serious air, which the men around did not fail to comment upon. But Mr. Leslie Winyard could scarcely conceal his ill-humour. The husband to cross him was bad enough, but another man, and that man Lord Albert D'Esterre, whom of all others he most disliked, was gall and bitterness to him. He approached Lady Glenmore, however, casting a look of insolence towards LordAlbert; but the serious, preoccupied demeanour of the latter prevented his even observing the impertinence intended for him.
Mr. Leslie Winyard now bent over Lady Glenmore, and whispered in her ear. She listened with rather more complacency than Lord Albert seemed to think was fitting, and she thanked Mr. Leslie Winyard for his care with somewhat more of feeling than he thought the occasion merited; but she spoke aloud, and seemed to avoid the whispered conversation which the other affected to hold.
Lord Albert, however, who was the last man in the world to play the mean part of a spy over the actions of any one, felt his situation sufficiently awkward; and considering that his every wish was on the wing after Lady Adeline, it became every instant more painful. He almost determined on leaving Lady Glenmore; but then he thought Lord Glenmore would naturally feel hurt at his doing so. Whilst weighing this matter with himself, Lord Glenmore returned, announcing the carriage to be at hand.
"D'Esterre, have the goodness to give your arm to Lady Glenmore on one side, and I will take care of her on the other, and then we shall be able, Georgina, to take you through the crowd withoutyour suffering any inconvenience." Mr. Leslie Winyard bit his lip with mortification, and Lord Boileau said to him, with some degree of sarcasm,
"Really, Winyard, I think youareill used; after your services, to see another preferred before you."
"Oh!c'est la fortune de la guerre," he replied, with an air ofaffectedtriumph; "but as for preference,reste à savoir."
"Upon my word, Winyard's coolness is admirable," said Lord Gascoigne, "and I would bet an even hundred that he is right. Georgina, as he calls her, I dare say understands a thing or two by this time, and knows how to hoodwink Glenmore." No sooner had Lord Albert handed Lady Glenmore into her carriage, than he returned swiftly, with a faint, sickening hope that he might not yet be too late to catch at least one precious look more of Adeline; nor was he disappointed, for he met her suddenly, standing near the door with her party. Addressing Lady Delamere with anempressementof manner, and an intonation of voice, that spoke the temper of his soul, his eyes fixed upon Lady Adeline's, he scarcely knew what it was he said to Lady Delamere, till the extreme coldness of the latter, and her marked asperity of reply, checked theflow of his feelings, and he remained mute and abashed, when the silver sound of Lady Adeline's voice, inquiring for Lady Glenmore, re-animated him.
"The heat was overpowering," she observed, "and she could not be surprised that any one had fainted; she herself had suffered from it."
Lord Albert made some answer, expressive of concern for her; and gazing at her with unrepressed tenderness, he remarked the myrtle sprig in her breast; for it was associated in his mind with some recollections that made it, in his estimation, an object of infinite interest. At that instant it dropped on the ground. He stooped to recover it hastily; and as he half tendered to restore it to her, said, "Its freshness was surprising, considering the atmosphere it had been in for so many hours; yet not so, neither," he added, "when I remember where it has been placed: but it is not worthy of such felicity. Allow me to retain it, for I, at least, can envy and appreciate its happy fate." A glow of lustrous joy illumined Lady Adeline's countenance; and if before the agitation of doubt and sorrow had shook her frame, an emotion not less intense, though proceeding from feelings the very opposite, now affected her.
"Far as distress the soul can wound,'Tis pain in each degree:'Tis bliss but to a certain bound;Beyond is agony."
"Far as distress the soul can wound,'Tis pain in each degree:'Tis bliss but to a certain bound;Beyond is agony."
Her emotion could not escape Lord Albert's observation, nor could he mistake its cause. With all the warmth of renewed and genuine affection, he again whispered to her,
"Adeline, will you be at home to-night if I come?"
Before she could reply, Lady Delamere's carriage was called. She turned rather abruptly to Lady Adeline, saying, "Adeline, come; the carriage waits;" and at the same instant Mr. Foley, who had been in quest of it, joined them, as though in much haste.
"If you delay an instant, Lady Delamere," he said, "your carriage must drive off, and then it is difficult to tell when you may get away."
"Adeline," cried Lady Delamere, speaking authoritatively, "take Mr. Foley's arm." And at the same time courtesying coldly to Lord Albert, she showed him his attendance was not desired, and hurried after her niece and daughters; for Lady Adeline, confused and agitated, had only time to cast a look at Lord Albert, and was in a mannerobliged to suffer herself to be led away by Mr. Foley.
Lord Albert stood for a moment like a statue: the sprig of myrtle, however, was in his hand, or he might have fancied he had dreamed the scene, so quickly had it passed. "What can this mean?" he said to himself, lingering on the spot where Lady Adeline had parted from him, quite unconscious of the crowd that passed by him in all directions. But where is one more alone than in a crowd? His reverie, however, was speedily broken in upon by hearing Lady Hamlet Vernon's name loudly called; and the next instant, as she was passing, unattended, to go out, she said to him:
"Do, Lord Albert, be so obliging as to give me your arm." In common courtesy he complied; but it was mechanically, and like the action of one in a dream. "You had better let me set you down, Lord Albert, if your carriage is not up, or you will never get away." An anxious wish to leave a scene in which he had now no interest, induced him to avail himself of the proposal. He leaped in after her, and they drove rapidly away. He said something expressive of thanks to her, of the crowd, of the heat, of Lady Glenmore; and this brought them to Cleveland-row, when their progresswas stopped, and the clatter of horses, and the crash of carriages, and the screams of women, and the oaths of servants, resounded in all directions. Lord Albert hastily looked out, and saw Lady Delamere's equipage, which had been forced out of the line among other carriages, and, in order to disentangle itself, was backing so as to come immediately parallel with Lady Hamlet Vernon's. He was grateful to think it was not in any present danger at least; but in lowering the glass and looking out to see what had occasioned the disturbance, he had forgotten and left the myrtle sprig on the seat of the carriage, and did not remark, in reseating himself, that Lady Hamlet Vernon had taken it up and was holding it in her hand, so absorbed was he in anxiety for Lady Adeline's possible danger.
Lady Delamere's carriage was by this time in contact with that of Lady Hamlet Vernon's. Lord Albert was just about to put his head again out of the window, to assure the former there was no danger, when he saw Lady Adeline lean back suddenly in the carriage, and at the same instant one of her cousins, as he thought, by her desire quickly drew up the window, evidently to prevent all communication. Lord Albert could not mistake this action.It perplexed and wholly overthrew all his presence of mind; and under the painful pressure of contending feelings he made some brief excuse to Lady Hamlet Vernon, of endeavouring to see if the carriage could be extricated, and opening the door he darted out, without any thought but that of yielding to the impulse of his feelings, and proceeded home in a state of distraction.
Assoon as Lord Albert was alone, and could recall his scattered senses, he reviewed every look and every gesture of Lady Adeline; and notwithstanding all that passed at the drawing-room and subsequently, notwithstanding the marked coldness and disapprobation which her manner had of late implied, he yet thought that her real feelings were not those, at least, of indifference towards him; and he resolved to try the issue of calling in South Audley-street that evening, as he had proposed to her.
For this purpose, he got away early from a ceremonious dinner which he was obliged to attend, and which appeared to him to last longer than any dinner had ever done before: and with his heart and head full of Adeline, and of Adeline alone, he found himself once more in her presence. Lady Delamere and her daughters, and one or two others, were sitting around Lady Dunmelraise's couch,amusing her with accounts of the drawing-room; but Lady Adeline was at the piano-forte, and Mr. Foley sitting by her, with a certain indescribable air of being established in his place by right.
At one glance of his eye, Lord Albert took in the whole room on entering, together with the relative position of its occupants; and his feelings underwent a sudden and painful revulsion. He advanced, however, towards Lady Dunmelraise, who extended her hand to him, but in a way that he could not mistake; and her coldness struck an additional chill to his heart. From Lady Delamere and her daughters he met no kindlier greeting; and he determined at once to try if Adeline's heart was equally shut against him. For this purpose he moved towards her; and although she could not see him, her back being turned to that part of the room from whence he came, yet she heard his approaching footstep, and trembled in every nerve.
Mr. Foley, who had followed Lady Hamlet Vernon's advice respecting his own conduct, and who lost no opportunity in acting in conformity to it, was now determined that he would not resign his seat or quit his station near Lady Adeline. The latter, on her part, had been too much agitated by her own feelings to see things in theirtrue light; and was glad of any person to talk to, in order to conceal her emotion. But no artificial means were sufficiently powerful to still the beatings of her heart; and when Lord Albert inquired after her health, saying, he hoped she had not suffered from the morning's fatigue, she started at the sound of his voice, although she expected to hear it, and made some hurried reply, which he construed into a disdain of his inquiries.
Lord Albert, wretched and astonished, stood mute; questioning within himself if this could really be the same Adeline whom he had a few hours ago seen with such a different expression in her whole countenance and demeanour, as to make him doubt the evidence of his senses. He would at once have broken through the mystery, could he have obtained her ear for a moment; but the presence of Mr. Foley, who pertinaciously, and, as it appeared to Lord Albert, in defiance of him, kept his place, prevented all explanation. And then again returned those false conclusions which arose from jealous doubt; and he conceived that it would be unworthy of himself even to seek an explanation from one whose evident preference of another appeared to him so very decided.
In this dark spirit of jealous indignation, heturned away, and sank into gloomy silence. Could he have known what was passing in Lady Adeline's breast, he would have acknowledged the justice of her feelings; he would have seen that all which seemed coldness and indifference was only the result of a proper sense of what she owed herself; and that under that assumed demeanour lay hid the truest, warmest love. Strange as it may appear on a slight review of the matter (although it is the common infirmity of human nature never to see its own defects), he was not aware of the effect which his constant intercourse with Lady Hamlet Vernon produced on the minds of all those who witnessed his intimacy with her; and, perhaps, as matters now stood, even if he had been at one time inclined to own himself in the wrong, the still greater dereliction from all truth and delicacy, which he thought he discovered both in Lady Adeline and Lady Dunmelraise, respecting their behaviour to him, completely exonerated him in his opinion, and he lost all sense of the evil of his own conduct in blaming theirs.
Little did Lord Albert dream (indeed, in the excitement of greater things, he had totally forgotten it) that the sprig of myrtle which Lady Adeline had given him that morning, and which had been apparently the medium of so much mutualtenderness, had been seen by her in Lady Hamlet Vernon's hand, when their carriages were entangled in coming from the drawing-room. It was this circumstance, combined with Lord Albert's being again in assiduous attendance on one whom she was now compelled to consider in the light of a rival, that had made Lady Adeline draw up the glass at the moment Lord Albert was about to speak to her, in order to escape witnessing so painful a truth. As she threw herself back in the carriage, and reflected on the unworthiness of his conduct, she became the victim of the most agonizing feelings; for what is so painful as the conviction of unworthiness in the object of our love? and it was this conviction which had effected the alteration in her manner towards him, which he could not but observe from the first moment of his entering the room.
While she was actuated by these sentiments, Lord Albert, on his part, writhed under the idea that Mr. Foley was his favoured rival, and that he was only allowed to witness his triumph, in order that he might be provoked to become the party who should break off the engagement existing between him and Lady Adeline. But this he inwardly determined should never be the case. He endeavoured, therefore, at the present moment, to devour his chagrin, andforce himself to converse on indifferent topics; addressing himself, however, to Lady Dunmelraise, rather than to Lady Adeline. Among others, he made allusion to thefêtewhich was to take place at Avington Park the day after the following, and expressed his regret that he had been unable to procure the tickets which he had hoped to have presented to herself and Lady Adeline; "a circumstance," he added, "which I consider very unfair, since I was one of the original subscribers to thisfête; but the names of the parties to be inserted have been all chosen by ballot, and my single voice alone did not prevail in obtaining the insertion of those whom I wished to be on the list."
This was really the fact, however extraordinary it may appear. Lord Albert, with the other persons who formed the committee appointed to give and arrange thisfête, had paid five hundred guineas each towards defraying the expense, but not one of them had the power of inviting any individual apart from the consent of the whole body; and as Lady Dunmelraise and her daughter were not of that circle which Lady Tilney and hercoterieconsidered to beton, Lord Albert's wishes on this point, which were perfectly sincere, had been wholly unattended to. Under the circumstances, however,in which he stood in the opinion of all those who now heard him, the exclusiveness of this measure could not be comprehended or believed, and, in short, passed for a mere deception.
His excuse, consequently, was received with great coldness by Lady Dunmelraise, who only replied, "That, as to herself, her going was quite out of the question; and as to her daughter," she added with emphasis, "I dare say Adeline has no wish to be there." Here the subject dropped; and Lord Albert, torn by a thousand contradictory feelings, could no longer continue to play so painful a part as that which he now saw devolved upon him. In this state of mind he quitted Lady Dunmelraise's house, having bade her a cold adieu. Little did he imagine it was for the last time.
If Lord Albert had exercised the power of sober reason, if the sorrow he felt had been free from all reproach of conscience, he would not have feared to look into his own breast, and would have sought counsel from that best adviser, his own mind, in the quiet of his chamber; "for a man's mind is wont to tell him more than seven watchmen that sit upon a high tower." But miserably he had suffered many entanglements to embarrass his steps, and direct them from the straight-forward path. Thenatural consequence of this was, that his mind had become a chaos, in which he distinguished nothing clearly; and in the bitterest moments of suffering, instead of coolly resorting to his understanding, as he once would have done, he now always sought to elude reflection by plunging into crowds. Whenever we dread to be left alone with our own thoughts, we are in peril. This melancholy change in Lord Albert's character was one which the alteration in his mode of life, and his associates, had in a short period of time effected.
Instead, therefore, of returning home when he left South Audley street, Lord Albert drove to Lady Glenmore's, who was that night to receive thecoterieof their peculiar circle for the first time at her own house. There had been no little arrangement on Lady Tilney's part, as well as on Lady Tenderden's, to give to Lady Glenmore'ssoiréeits full effect in the annals ofton, by stamping it with that exclusive mark of self-arrogated distinction, of which they considered themselves to be the sum and seal.
No pains had been spared by these ladies, therefore, to render this assemblage of persons select, according to their acceptation of the meaning of the word, and,pour trancher le mot, as they said,to exclude every one not on their own private lists, with the limited exception of thosediplomatesand official persons whom Lord Glenmore's ministerial situation obliged them to permit Lady Glenmore to invite.
At Glenmore House there was of course assembled, on the present evening, the Tilneys, Leinsengens, Tenderdens, Boileaus, Gascoignes, De Cheres, and the rest of theélitewho formed thesociété choisieof Lady Tilney; and as the latter looked around the apartments, and only saw there those whom in factshehad bidden, she was gratified with this fresh accession of arbitrary power, and considered it no small triumph thus to have set the seal of her supremacy over the yielding Lady Glenmore, who might, under other circumstances, if she had not been an ally, have proved a formidable enemy. As it was, Lady Tilney expressed the sense of her satisfaction by a thousandcajoleries, which one woman knows so well to practise upon another when it suits her purpose. She praised Lady Glenmore's dress (that touchstone of female friendship), although she could not help saying apart to Lady Tenderden, that it was a pity Lady Glenmore still persisted in herbaroquemodes, which in fact were no modes at all, but contrivances of her own. Toherself, Lady Tilney however next observed, that Lady Glenmore's choice of society was excellent, and that the manner in which she had arranged her rooms was managed with infinite taste.
These approving, encouraging speeches, from one so versed in the knowledge of the world, and so much looked up to as the arbiter of the elegancies of life, together with all the other incense of flattery which was lavished upon Lady Glenmore on every side, could not fail of taking some effect on her mind. Young, fair, unformed in character, brought up by fond and indulgent parents, who thought she never could err, and who had miserably neglected to implant those religious principles in her breast which alone give stability to character, which impart strength by making us aware of our own weakness, Lady Glenmore was launched on a scene where dangers surrounded her in every shape, and which she was wholly unprepared either to foresee or to sustain. Gentle, amiable,—as yet pure, and unsuspicious of evil, from being herself free from it,—she was a fitting subject to be moulded into any shape by any evil-designing person that knew gradually to undermine her innocence without alarming her fears. Lady Glenmore's situation in the world, therefore,with a husband incessantly employed in public duties, consequently often absent, while she was thrown in the midst of a peculiar society, which became, from various circumstances, her only sphere of action, was one of infinite temptation and peril.
At first, as was seen, she mourned over the deprivation of her husband's presence,—a husband whom she loved with child-like tenderness; but time,ton, and necessity, soon softened down this infantine regret, and merely at first as a solace for the pain she endured in being absent from him, she entered on the routine of dissipated pleasure which presented itself to her on all sides. No wonder, then, that those worldly pursuits, which were at first resorted to as palliatives for pain, became gradually habitual and necessary to her; and it is the fatal but inevitable consequence of such a habit of life, to unfit the capacity (even the best and most vigorous capacity) for any higher or nobler aim.
In the thoughtless vivacity of her age, alive to the zest of gaiety and pleasure, her better qualities lay dormant; and in this Circean circle her beauty and her youth were certain passports to general admiration, independently of all the adventitious circumstances by which she was environed. Onthe present occasion, when for the first time she opened her house, she appeared the presiding spirit that gave life, animation, and novelty even to theblaséand hackneyed beings around her. Had Lady Glenmore used, without abusing, the many advantages of her brilliant station, she would not have been to blame, whatever may be said by gloomy ascetics; nor would they have had power to lead her into danger, had she possessed the stay and guide which a husband's constant presence in society always affords.
This, however, was nothercase; and the very nature of her ingenuous and guileless disposition became, in her present circumstances, an additional source of danger, since it rendered her the easy prey of the experienced and practised in deception, by too many of whom she was surrounded, and who, envious of that purity they affected to despise, were restless agents in endeavouring to reduce it to their own corrupt level. It was from some such motive as this, rather than from any impulse of love or passion, that Mr. Leslie Winyard first paid Lady Glenmore attention. He was clever, and knew well how to be prodigal of assiduities to the one object of his pursuit, in contradistinction to the contempt in which he apparently held all others. This flattersthe vanity of the individual to whom they are addressed, and proves a ready passport to a woman's smiles, particularly when experiencing that perfectdélaissementwhich is most felt in a crowd, where "there is none to bless us, none whom we can bless."
Under these circumstances Lady Glenmore first listened to Mr. Leslie Winyard; and that advantage once gained, he had art enough to avail himself of it as a step towards intimacy. In a very short space of time, he so far succeeded as to raise at least abruit sourdof his beingl'objet préféré; an idea which at this period, could any real friend of Lady Glenmore's have suggested to her, she would have started from with indignation; but as it was, she continued laughing and talking on the present occasion with Mr. Leslie Winyard. Had she overheard the observations made upon her by various persons, more particularly those of Lady De Chere and Lord Boileau, she might have learned a lesson which she was destined to buy at a higher price.
"Well, for adebutante," said Lord Boileau, "I thinkla petiteGeorgina has made considerable progress in her career. And how does Glenmore take it?"
"Oh!" replied Lady De Chere, "as every one does what they cannot help, I suppose. Besides, doubtless, he has other things to think of, and must feel glad to have escaped her childish fondness: it must have been exceedingly tiresome; and, after all, the sooner a matrimonial understanding is settled upon a right and proper footing, the better for both parties."
"Very true, Lady De Chere; and nobody settles those matters so well as yourself; you are a model for all married ladies; so muchretenu, so muchbienséance, and such a lady-like way of doing exactly what you choose, and allowing De Chere to do the same. It is the only way for married persons to be comfortable, orcomme il faut."
"I am glad you think so, for that has long ago been Lady Boileau's opinion," replied Lady De Chere, with one of her most contumelious smiles, and left Lord Boileau to the satisfaction of his reflections on domestic happiness.
"Pardon me," said Lord Baskerville, gently pulling him aside, and conducting the Comtesse Leinsengen to the other apartment, "buten qualité de preux, hem! I must be permitted to say,Place aux dames—a-hem!"
"Oh! my reveries," rejoined Lord Boileau,"were on very every-day topics; they can be resumed at any time; and I am happy in the honour of—"
"Getting out of de way," quickly interrupted the Comtesse, who had the happy knack of cutting all long speeches short, "milles graces:" and she glided past him with a sliding bow, adding aside to Lord Baskerville, "I would always make my best thanks to him for dat; he is quite a dullification.Mais voilà du nouveau," she went on to say, in the same breath, looking towards Lady Glenmore and Mr. Leslie Winyard, who were still conversing; "dat is always de way with your English virtuosos; dey gogrand trainwhen dey do go. You are an odd people altogether; alwaysen caricatura.Et le mari farouche apprivoisé!quite used to it already! Well, he is more sensible dan I took him for;vogue la galère." And by this time she had approached close to Lady Glenmore with her sliding step.—"I wished to make you my courtesy, and pay you my compliments on the brilliancy of yoursoirée; and I am happy to see you did not suffer more from your indisposition at the drawing-room. Indeed, I am sure you could not, for I never saw you looking moretriomphantethan to-night. That heat was enough to kill one; but you had only avapeur;and I assure you it was quite becoming: was it not, Lord Baskerville?"
"Oh, done in excellent style, as all that Lady Glenmore does must be—a-hem! quite in good taste; no distortions or hysterics or vulgar violences; all suavity and gentleness—a-hem! never saw so beautiful a specimen of feint in my life—hem!"
At that moment Lord D'Esterre came up to make his bow to Lady Glenmore, and the Comtesse Leinsengen walked abruptly away, saying, "De very sight of dat man gives me what you call de blue and de green devils."
But Lady Hamlet Vernon was quite of a different opinion; she had long been a fixture in the door-way, looking anxiously for his arrival. It was late when he came, and she sought to attract his attention, and engage him in conversation. Solicitous as she was to learn the cause of his having left her in such an unaccountable manner in Cleveland-row, she did not immediately enter upon that subject, but said something expressive of a general interest in his welfare, and of concern at seeing him look unwell. He eluded her inquiries, and professed being in perfect health; but she was evidently aware that his mind had undergone some sudden change since she had seen him at the drawing-room,for he no longer spoke in the abstracted manner he had done when there, but joined with an apparent animation and interest in a conversation which she dexterously led to topics that she knew to be most in accordance with his tastes and habits, and particularly so when he was depressed and under the influence of blighted feelings; at which times he never failed to seek refuge in dreams of ambition and power.
Though Lord Albert D'Esterre had never yet arrived at that degree of intimacy with Lady Hamlet Vernon which might have induced him to open his whole heart to her, on its dearest interests, yet there always seemed to him to be a tacit and delicate understanding of his sentiments, which he felt was soothing, and believed was sincere; while, on her part, there was a consummate art in appearing to compassionate his disappointment, while, at the same time, she never failed in administering some baneful suspicion, or insinuating some deteriorating observation on the character and conduct of Lady Adeline and her mother, in respect to their behaviour towards himself.
Had Lady Hamlet Vernon, by any incautious or violent language, betrayed her own malignant feelings, his eyes would have been at once unsealed;but all she said was so well adapted to effect what she intended, to throw his mind into a sea of doubts, and yet leave no suspicion of her intending to do so, that he yielded, by degrees, an unwilling belief to this sapping, undermining influence, so totally destructive of his peace.
While listening to discourse of this kind, their conversation was interrupted by Lord Raynham's addressing Lady Hamlet Vernon as he passed her, putting some common-place question (to which, however, he did not wait to hear an answer) about the ensuing breakfast, and then he walked on, talking to himself as usual.
Lady Hamlet Vernon turned quickly to Lord Albert, saying, "Of course youmustbe there!"
He replied vaguely, apparently not knowing what he was saying; and it was evident to Lady Hamlet Vernon, that, for some reason or other, the mention of the breakfast raised in his mind a perplexity of thoughts, for he relapsed into an abstracted mood, and became perfectly silent. She was too wary to make any direct observation upon this, and too much accustomed to the fluctuation of his spirits not to know that they must be suffered to ebb and flow without animadversion on her part, if she desired to maintain her influence over him;but she determined secretly to trace the cause of this sudden change to its source, and felt sure that there was something connected with the breakfast of higher interest to him than itself. She endeavoured to regain his attention by turning her conversation into other channels; but in vain: the spell was on him, and soon afterwards he glided from her side and left the assembly.
Lady Glenmore's party was prolonged to a late hour, and when the people began to move, a considerable time elapsed before they could all depart. To dissipate theennuiof these last moments, Lady Glenmore went to her piano-forte, and, in that excitement of spirit which the incense of flattery and the consciousness of worldly success inspires, she sang in her very best manner and in her most brilliant style, and was herself so absorbed in the sweet sounds she made, that she perceived not that the last of her visitors was gone, till, on looking up, she beheld no one save Mr. Leslie Winyard leaning over her chair. Abashed and somewhat confused, she scarce knew why, Lady Glenmore was about to rise, when Mr. Winyard entreated her just to finish the romance. "It is only two stanzas more," he said, in his most entreating and persuasive tone. Fluttered, and notwishing to show she was so, she thought it better to comply, and endeavour to recover herself while singing. In this she succeeded to a certain degree; and having sang the two stanzas he pleaded for, she arose with an intention of immediately retiring, when Mr. Leslie Winyard, who had alwaysl'apropos du momentat command, contrived again to arrest her departure, by starting some question which she could not avoid answering, and then proceeding to further converse; while Lady Glenmore, on her part, caught by the glitter of his wit, was amused, and laughed in gaiety of spirit.
This scene had continued fully half an hour after every body had left the room, when Lord Boileau, who had been one of the last to go away, made his reappearance suddenly in the apartment where they were sitting.
"I beg you a thousand million of pardons, Lady Glenmore; I am sadly afraid I—I have intruded. I am vastly unfortunate; I must seem exceedingly impolite; quite accidental, I assure you. The truth is, my carriage did not arrive, and rather than wait any longer in the room below, I ventured to come up stairs again. You will, I trust, therefore, pardon my reappearance. But, Winyard, if your carriage is waiting, as I believe it has beenfor some time, will you allow it to set me down, and I will send it back immediately?"
"Oh yes!" cried Leslie Winyard, "with the greatest pleasure; by all means."—And Lord Boileau turned to go away as he spoke. Lady Glenmore happily, at the moment, felt the awkwardness of her situation, and had sufficient presence of mind to say, "Stop, Lord Boileau, I beg. Mr. Leslie Winyard, I must make my adieus, and wish you good night. I am afraid you will find it dull waiting alone till Lord Boileau's carriage returns." She said this with a determination of manner which sufficiently proved to Mr. Leslie Winyard that he ought to depart, and not press matters further at that time. He bowed, therefore, and whispering something in her ear with an appearance of familiarity, reluctantly took his leave.
As he joined Lord Boileau on the staircase, the latter said to him, in a low tone, "You will never forgive me, Winyard, I fear, for this interruption; but how very cleverly the Glenmore turned it off! I give her great credit for her address."
Leslie Winyard made no answer, but smiled complacently, and in a manner that left littledoubt of the innuendo which he wished his silence to convey; while he inwardly triumphed in the assurance, that he had in Lord Boileau a willing witness and ready herald of all he could wish to be believed.
Theallusion made by Lord Albert D'Esterre on the preceding evening to thefêteat Avington Park, his excuses and explanations on the subject of the ticket, together with Lady Dunmelraise's doubtful mode of receiving them, were circumstances not lost on Mr. Foley; and the hope that he might not only please Lady Adeline by the attention, but also, in the event of his success, tacitly throw suspicion on Lord Albert's sincerity, determined him on endeavouring to procure her, himself, a ticket for thefête.
Consequently, at an early hour the following morning, he sought Lady Hamlet Vernon, to request her assistance in the accomplishment of his wishes. The latter possessed too much penetration not to see, in Mr. Foley's anxiety, an elucidation of the disquiet and uneasiness betrayed by Lord Albert D'Esterre when the subject of the breakfast had been accidentally alluded to at Lady Glenmore'sby Lord Raynham; and imagined that she perceived, at once, a point where her own wishes might be advanced, at the same time that she appeared attending only to those of the friend who now applied to her. If it was clear to Lady Hamlet Vernon that some misunderstanding, some unpleasant feeling, had existed in Lord Albert's mind, connected with the subject, no better or surer index of it could be found, than in the eager and pressing solicitude displayed on the same point by the person whom she had herself principally influenced in the attempt to become his rival; and to procure the ticket so much wished for (if a possibility of doing so remained) was therefore the immediate conclusion in Lady Hamlet Vernon's mind.
In individuals similarly constituted, an explanation of sentiment, or even of design, is not always requisite; an intuitive principle seems to guide to the same point, and directs them generally to the use of the same means; and no interpretation of his wishes was necessary on the part of Mr. Foley, in the present instance, to ensure him the earnest co-operation of Lady Hamlet Vernon. The conversation which had passed on a former occasion between them, on the subject of Lord AlbertD'Esterre's engagement with Lady Adeline, and the result hinted at of Mr. Foley's probable success, if disposed to hazard his suit, was alone sufficient to produce an understanding throughout all future manœuvres in the proceeding, and without a word passing to that effect: therefore, on the occasion in question, Mr. Foley felt that he left his application in Lady Hamlet Vernon's hands with a well-founded assurance of its accomplishment, as far, at least, as her exertions could promote such an issue.
In a few hours the ticket was procured and transmitted. On receiving it, Mr. Foley proceeded, with a feeling approaching to triumph, to South Audley-street; and in presenting it to Lady Dunmelraise, said something about his happiness in offering what he thought would be agreeable to Lady Adeline, and his hope that some other opportunity would afford itself of proving that her wishes were always laws to him; at the same time, to enhance his air of importance, throwing out hints (as if carelessly) respecting the small number of persons who were to constitute thefête, and the peculiarities attending its management, all which insinuated the distinction attached to such as were amongst theprièes. Lady Dunmelraise looked expressively ather daughter, as she held the ticket in her hand; as though she would have said, Lord Albert could not procure one; and Lady Adeline, who had sat like a statue, not daring to trust herself to speak, lest she should betray her feelings, now felt this silent appeal too much for endurance, and sought her chamber, there to indulge in an unrepressed burst of sorrow. "Yes," she cried, in broken utterance, as sobs choked her voice; "yes, he is faithless, perfidious, and I—I am wretched."
While Lady Adeline gave way to this natural transport of wounded feeling, her mother guessed too well what her poor child was suffering, and though she suffered with her, yet she could, in the comparative calmness ofherregret, consider how it was best to act; and Lady Dunmelraise determined on the propriety and expediency of Adeline going to the breakfast. She therefore continued to converse with Mr. Foley, in order to settle all the necessary arrangements, saying,
"But by whom is Adeline to bechaperoned? There do not seem to be many of our acquaintance going, unless, indeed, Lady Borrowdaile, Lady Aveling, or Lady Feuillemorte; yet she would, I think, prefer Lady Aveling."
"Pardon me," rejoined Mr. Foley; "none of those ladies are invited."
"Indeed! you astonish me! But the Duchess D'Hermanton; she, at least, cannot be left out?"
"Her grace's name, I know, is not on the list," replied Mr. Foley.
"That is astonishing! Which of the nobility, then, now in London, are to be of this party?"
"Those," answered Mr. Foley, "who are of thescelta."
"And pray who are those?" He named the Boileaus, De Cheres, Tenderdens, Tilneys, Leinsengens, &c. &c. Lady Dunmelraise smiled, and then looked rather grave.
"This would be laughable," she said, "if it were not melancholy to think, that people can suffer themselves to be so led away by a love of false distinction, as to attempt to set aside all that is truly good and great, and to impose laws and rules upon society, whose general tendency cannot be productive of any real advantage, but the reverse." Mr. Foley affected to agree with her in part, but said, "There was always, at all times, something of the same sort existing. It was a species of excrescence," he said, "which grew out of the plethora of the London world. It might be dangerous for some;but for Lady Adeline—he conceived she might look at its folly, andeffleuréthe charm of its novelty and splendour, without the least danger."
"It is from this persuasion," rejoined Lady Dunmelraise, "that I can augur no harm in her attending the breakfast, although I should be sorry to see her always forming a component part of such a society. But whom can she accompany on the present occasion? Is Lady Louisa Blithewaite going?"
"She is: as a sister of the Duke of Mercington's, she has been admitted."
"That will do," said Lady Dunmelraise. "She is the very person under whose care I should like my Adeline to be placed. I will write to her directly." Mr. Foley, who began to fear that after all he should not carry his point, was now delighted; and he took leave of Lady Dunmelraise, well pleased with the prospect of his success. When Lady Dunmelraise had despatched her note to Lady Louisa Blithewaite, she sought Lady Adeline in her chamber, whom she found in some measure calm and composed.
"You see how it is, my dearest child; but your painful task will soon be over, I trust. It is suspense only that is not to be borne, since it preventsthe mind from resting on any one point, or coming to any conclusion; and it is for this very reason, my loved Adeline, that I wish you to summon resolution and attend the breakfast. It is right Lord Albert should know that we are aware of the idle subterfuge he wished to palm upon our belief; and it is well, too, for your future peace, that you should so convince yourself of his dereliction of all honourable principle, that you will not in any after-moment fancy that you have forfeited all happiness in losing him." By these and similar reasonings and persuasions, Lady Dunmelraise convinced her daughter that she ought to comply with her wishes, and prepare to meet this painful trial. Having, therefore, given way to the infirmity of human weakness only so far as that indulgence was necessary to a recovery of self-management, Lady Adeline rallied her powers of mental control; and with that steady serenity and determination of character which proceeds from one only source, and which bears up those who act upon its influence through all the storms of life, she acceded to whatever Lady Dunmelraise required of her.
In the course of that day, Lord Albert called in South Audley-street; but neither Lady Adeline nor her mother were at home. In the distemperedstate of his mind, he thought he had been denied, and in this idea he was almost confirmed by seeing Mr. Foley leave the house a few moments after he had ridden from the door; though, in fact, this was not the case, the latter having merely gone into the drawing-room a short time before Lord Albert called, to leave a note explanatory of some points respecting the hour of going to thefête, &c. &c. and which Lady Dunmelraise had requested him to ascertain. The effect, however, produced upon Lord Albert's imagination was the same as if the fact had been so; and in this effervescence of mind he directed his horse's head, with a feeling of something like habit, towards Lady Hamlet Vernon's.
When the heart is bruised, and the understanding perplexed, it is astonishing to think how the strongest minds turn to lean on some one being whom they deem willing to soothe and share in their feelings; and if it is a weakness, it is one so linked to all the best parts of our nature, that there would be no advantage gained by exchanging it for that cold hardness of self-sufficiency, to which some persons lay claim as affording them a superiority over their fellow-creatures. Such was certainly not Lord Albert's case. Whatever he might or might not confess to himself, it was with a worn-outspirit that he sought Lady Hamlet Vernon; and on hearing that she was at home, he threw himself off his horse, and hastened into her presence. Although she was too well skilled in reading the human heart, not to be aware that she owed this visit rather to his displeasure in other quarters, than from a spontaneous wish to enjoy her society, yet she received him, as she always did, with those gentle smiles which captivate the heart, and which is the temper ever sought for and expected in woman.
Lady Hamlet Vernon knew that the general selfishness of man seeks only the reflection of his own sensations from the sympathy of women; and that whatever cause a woman may have of pain or pleasure, it ishisfeelings, and not her own, which she must consult, soothe, and influence; and that, in short, when she ceases to be his sunshine, he ceases to court her influence.
It was acting under this conviction, which made Lady Hamlet Vernon, with infallible delicacy and truth of tact, neither seem to search into secrets which Lord Albert did not choose to reveal, nor yet appear carelessly ignorant of the melancholy restlessness by which she saw him affected; but alternately she soothed, flattered, and sympathizedin all he said, till at last she succeeded, for the time being, in reconciling him with himself, and in a great measure allaying the irritation of those various feelings which almost distracted him when he first entered her apartment.
Before he took his leave, it was finally arranged between them, that he should accompany her to thefêtethe next day, if he could leave Downing-street in time; and if he could not, he would, he said, meet her at Avington Park, and go there with Lord Glenmore, who, in the event of his being detained, would be detained also.
While thus variously agitated had been the feelings of some, whose hearts, by circumstances, had become interested in this idlefête, the principal movers in it, intheirway, were not less anxious for its success and brilliancy. For the preservation of its exclusive and chosen character, and the arrangement of all its endless detail of luxury, each member of thesociété choisiewas more or less busy andaffairé. Lady Tilney, with her usual activity, was the first in her exertions; driving to the houses of all connected with the arrangements, examining into every minute particular, and, above all, guarding against the possibility of any persons whose name was not on herlist creeping in through the weakness of some member of the committee, who, in a moment of unallowed natural feeling, might have invited a sister, or a mother, or a brother, who were from a classwithout the pale.
At Lady Ellersby's she met Lady Tenderden, and the Countess Leinsengen, and Lady De Chere, and Lord Boileau, who came in, as though by chance, one after the other, each saying, in different words, the same thing.
"How fortunate I am to have met you! I wished to know at what hour you are to go to Avington Park to-morrow;" and all applied to Lady Tilney. She named three o'clock.
"La!" cried Lady Ellersby, "I shall not have awoke from my first sleep at that hour: surely four o'clock is quite time enough."
"Ishall not go till den," cried the Comtesse Leinsengen. "One has always enough of dose tings dat last for ever. Breakfast, dinner, supper, and den breakfast again, before one gets away."
"Oh! but you know," replied Lady Tenderden, "disfête, my dear comtesse, is not like any other; dere will be no one dere but ourselves, our ownsociété; and dere are so many pleasant tings to be done,—going on de water, walking about, and deloterie; one would not choose to lose dat."
"Oh! certainly not," exclaimed Lady Boileau. "I am told there are to be some exceedingly magnificent things. Lord Albert D'Esterre has bought some really fine jewels."
"Perhaps so," said Lady De Chere in her blunt way; "but we all knowwhowill have these: the chances are wisely ordainedbeforehand."
"Have you got yourbillet de loterie?" asked the Comtesse Leinsengen of the speaker.
"No," replied Lady De Chere with an air of pique, "but Iamto have one."
"Certainly," rejoined Lady Tilney, who read the Comtesse's intended triumph; and who chose to show her, on many occasions, that if any one had a right to tyrannize it was herself, or that at least, if such a thing were attempted, it should beà qui mieux mieux.
"Certainly, Lady Boileau, there will be a lottery ticket foryou, and all theotherladies; at least, I shall conceive it exceedingly wrong indeed if there is not. But should there be any mistake, depend uponmyrectifying it. And now, ladies," she continued, addressing them generally, "there is one point we have not touched upon—our costume."
"Oh!demi-toilette, of course," exclaimed Lady Tenderden.
"Of course," echoed Lady Tilney, afraid lest it should be thought that she had asked the question with a view to arrange her own dress according to her friends' dictation: "but I meant, should we have achangeof dress for the evening?"
"Oh! what a trouble!" said Lady Ellersby.
"Yes, my dear; but you know, after walking about all day, our dress will not look fresh for the evening," said Lady Boileau. "However, I am told, that among othergalanteriesour cavaliers have engaged a certain number of milliners, to be in attendance with every kind of decoration, so that we need think little on that point."
"No, really!" cried Lady Ellersby, with something more than her usual animation: "that is well imagined."
"And I will tell you," said Lady Tenderden, "what is the prettiest ting of all, de best imagined possible,—every lady is to have her cipher formed of her chosen flower. As to me, I shall be like Louis de Fourteenth's favourite, and am to haveun salon tout tapissé de jonquilles. After all is said, dere is nobody but the French dat know what it is to be gallant. And now,mes chères dames, I must depart. If any thing occurs,any change takes place, you will let me know. You have all settled your parties for going, of course: mine has been long arranged wid de Glenmores and Mr. Leslie Winyard. Adieu, adieu!"
"Of course," said the Comtesse Leinsengen: "mi ladi need not to have taken de pains to inform us on dat subject."
"I think," said Lady Tilney, "considering that this party is made expressly byus, and is quite a thing apart, that she might have passed over for once her tiresome preference of every thing French. But she is always making out that it is the French alone who do every thing in perfection; and that is exceedingly impolite, to say the least of it."
"Very true," added Lady De Chere; "and considering that she is what she is by having married an Englishman,c'est un peu fort."
"But," said Lady Tilney, breaking abruptly off, "I must say adieu.ChèreLady Ellersby, adieu! Remember! three o'clock, at the latest, to-morrow. And we positively can allow no more tickets. No persuasions or entreaties must be suffered to prevail. The affair is finished. I have put my veto on the D'Hermanton," she added, turninground as she approached the door: "that would have been too much."
"I wonder," said Lady Ellersby, as Lady Tilney left the room, "that she is not dead with fatigue. Surely never any body did so much."
"To so little purpose," said the Comtesse Leinsengen sharply; "for, after all, de public of your nation are a great deal toorevêcheto let any one person lead dem aboutà droite et à gauche. Much better it is to cut de matter short, to have one's ownsociété, and never care what any body says or does or tinks. Please oneself one's own way, dat is de true liberty. But dat ladi has somany fire-ironsall going at once, some of dem must fail, and den she is out of humour."
There was a general smile at what the comtesse had said; and they all enjoyed hearing Lady Tilney found fault with, though no one exactly chose to be the person who should hazard such an opinion.
"Ah! comtesse," observed Lady Boileau, "you are the most amusing person in the world."
"Seulement parce que je suis la plus franche," she replied; and kissing her hand to Lady Ellersby, glided out of the room.
"If she had saidbrusque, instead offranche," cried Lady De Chere, "she would have been nearer the truth."
"Eh, eh, eh!" laughed Lady Ellersby, as she observed, "Perhaps so; but it is like smelling salts to hear her remarks; and really I do not know what I should do without something pungent now and then to keep me awake."
"Besides," rejoined Lady Boileau, "we have all our own particular meanings for particular phrases; and Comtesse Leinsengen is not the only person who gives her own meaning to a phrase which, in its general acceptation, is of quite a different import. Don't you agree with me, Lady De Chere?"
"May be so. But in as far as regards myself, I always mean what I say, though I do not say always all that I mean. But we are quite philosophical, and I have no time for disquisitions; so, fair ladies, good day, and may to-morrow be propitious for hats, caps, andfalbalas. In that we are all agreed. Farewell!" And she departed.
"My dear Lady Ellersby," said Lady Boileau, approaching her in a voice of earnest entreaty, "do not let Lady Tilney forget my lottery-ticket; for, after all, you know, one likes to have achanceof the fine things."
"Oh yes!ONEdoes. I will not forget. Trust to me."
"You are alwayssogood-humoured! Adieu, then,tillto-morrow! I know you will not forget me."
"Not if you can prevent it," said Lady Ellersby to herself, as she closed the door, and rose to ring her bell. "Send Fanchon to me." And when Fanchon, the maid, obeyed the summons, her mistress said, "I am half dead with the clamour of those dear friends of mine. Put myroquelaureover me, and let me sleep. See that I be not disturbed. How loud they did all talk!"
Everyone has felt, some time or other, that when the first warmth of indignation against a loved object begins to cool, the recollection of a thousand tender reminiscences comes floating in to soften and subdue resentment; and that many an ebb and flow of fondness must take place before the deep trace of love is washed from our remembrance. Thus it was with Lady Adeline: there was a lurking weakness in her heart (if the tenacity of true love can he called a weakness), which made her loath to cast Lord Albert thence, even if hewereguilty, for the moment, of deserting her.
Even in that case she thought he might be reclaimed. It was difficult, it was impossible, to fathom the heart: who had a right to do so? and with these thoughts she condemned herself as wrong and precipitate in her judgment. The best, she conceived, that remained for her to do, under her present painful circumstances, would be toretire to the country, and await there the issue of his determination; but not to brave him. Under the impression of these feelings, she lamented having yielded her consent to be present at the breakfast.
"If I am to see him there," she exclaimed inwardly, "devoted to another, what good end will it answer thus to add anguish to anguish? And, at all events, Albert will think better of me if I avoid his presence, and, by so doing, show how much I feel, and how little I am desirous of prying into his conduct."
Lady Dunmelraise soon saw that such were the feelings of her daughter, when, in the course of the day, a recurrence was made to the subject of the breakfast; and it was with pleasure that she received a visit from her sister, Lady Delamere, in the evening, from the hope that her persuasions, joined to those which she had already availed herself of, might have additional weight with Lady Adeline.
Many concurring circumstances had led both Lady Dunmelraise and Lady Delamere to the conviction that Lord Albert was wholly undeserving of such a treasure, and induced the suspicion that he perhaps enjoyed the consciousness of beingbeloved by her daughter, while, at the same time, he played with her feelings, and sacrificed them remorselessly at the shrine of his own vanity. To impress their opinions upon her Adeline's mind, Lady Dunmelraise conceived to be absolutely necessary, with a view to wean her from her strong attachment: and so convinced was she of the necessity of this measure, in order to restore Lady Adeline to any thing like happiness, that much as it pained Lady Dunmelraise to make her herself the witness of Lord Albert's desertion and insincerity, yet she felt convinced that to do so would be at once the kindest and most effectual measure.
In this she was confirmed by Lady Delamere; and with all the persuasion of affection, and all the force of truth, they both represented the matter in so strong a light to Lady Adeline, that she yielded her feelings to their direction, saying,
"Well, dearest mamma and dearest aunt, make of me what you will, do with me as you choose; but remember I am a poor automaton that can no longer act or think for itself. I feel crushed, withered, wretched, unable to do any thing but yield a passive obedience. In that I know I am fulfilling my duty; and if I live, that thought must bring peace in its train."
"Ifyou live!" exclaimed Lady Dunmelraise, shuddering, as she looked earnestly at her altered countenance. "Dearest child! talk not thus:" and as she pressed her to her breast, she felt that she must evermore consider Lord Albert as the destroyer of her child's happiness. At an early hour that evening, Lady Adeline retired to rest; and worn out with the agitation of the day, yet calmed by the secret sense of satisfaction which a fulfilment of duty and obedience to a loved and loving parent never fails to produce, she fell into that sweet, child-like sleep of innocence which is the balm of peace.
The morning came in lowering, and a few heavy drops of rain seemed to announce the impending overthrow of the splendour of thefête; but about midday the dark clouds broke away, and the sun came out clear and bright, giving assurance of fair weather. By three o'clock, the park, and the squares and streets in its immediate vicinity, presented a gay sight in the splendid equipages that were waiting at the doors, or driving to the destined scene of the rendezvous. Lady Adeline had suffered herself to be attired in the dress her mother had prepared for her, which was well adapted for the hour and scene, and at once splendid, yet chastely beautiful: and as something of the natural weakness of youthand vanity found a brief place even in the breast of the ingenuous Adeline, a consciousness of her charms stole over her, as she cast a rapid glance at her person reflected in her mirror, and she thought with a feeling of something like renovated hope and pleasure; "He may not deem me so beneath his attention." And then again a quick return of reflection made her sigh; remembering how valueless the affection is, how undeserving the name, which depends alone on personal charms. But still a secret hope remained, that if she could once again attract his regards, she might find the way to retain them on a sure foundation.
As this hope, in despite of reason, took possession of her heart, it tinged her cheek with a brighter hue, and gave an animation to her whole appearance which even deceived those who loved her most. There was a feeling of exultation in Lady Dunmelraise's breast, as she gazed delightedly on this dear object of her solicitude; for conscious that the gem within was as precious as the fair casket in which it was enshrined, she thought that Lord Albert little knew his own true interests in exchanging such a pearl of price for common merchandise; and she was right.
When Lady Adeline arrived at Lady LouisaBlithewaite's, she found a party assembled there, amongst whom were the Duke of Mercington and Mr. Foley. The former was exceedingly struck with her appearance, and manifested his admiration in a way not to be overlooked or misunderstood, at the same time with all that delicacy which was due to the person by whom it was excited. Lady Louisa Blithewaite received her with marks of the greatest interest; and relieved the embarrassment she felt on perceiving herself the object of general remark, by entering immediately into discourse with her on various subjects connected with the immediate object of their meeting.
As soon as the first awkwardness was passed, Lady Adeline recovered her presence of mind, and joined in the conversation with that natural yet cultivated understanding which is felt in touching on the most trivial topics, as well as in discussing the most serious ones, and never fails to win admiration and respect. Mr. Foley hovered around her, sometimes leaning on the back of her chair, and affecting to speak to her with the familiarity of intimacy; alluding to times and circumstances of which the present company were ignorant, and endeavouring, by this conduct, to wear the appearance of being anattachéof Lady Adeline's. But as she did notshare in this intention, and her conversation being directed equally to the different persons around, his attempt was a failure.
It was impossible, at the present moment, but that Lady Adeline's mind should be taken off from herself; and the bustle of arranging how the parties should go, together with the constant and varied homage she received from all present, but particularly from the Duke of Mercington, which could not fail of being for the time gratifying, all combined to produce that species of excitement which diffused an animation and lustre over her features and manners altogether magical.
After much disquisition, it was finally arranged, that the Duke of Mercington should accompany his sister and Lady Adeline in the same carriage; and Mr. Foley, with evident mortification, was obliged to attend another party. Nobody knew better than the duke how to render himself agreeable when he chose it. There was a bland sunshine on his countenance, and a kindness in his manner, which was a key to all hearts; and on the present occasion he felt irresistibly impelled to endeavour to please. Every word Lady Adeline spoke during the drive, though her words were not many, and not directed to any subject on which the strongerqualities of her mind could be called into exercise, had yet so much originality in them, from that perfect nature, unobscured by the factitious ways of the world, which makes even the most trite and common things appear in a new light, that the duke whispered to his sister, when they arrived at Avington Priory, "She is perfection. I never met with such grace of mind."
On entering the gay, enchanted scene of the breakfast, all eyes were directed towards Lady Adeline; and as the duke walked between her and his sister, the envious whisper ran round, "Who is she? Who invited her? How very odd she should be here!" but none durst openly find fault with one whom the Duke of Mercington protected and countenanced. Lord Gascoigne observed, as they walked in,
"So at last he is caught," to which Lord Baskerville maliciously replied, "He may be caught—hem! but there are two words to that bargain—a-hem! For my part, I would rather be the cobbler at the corner of the street, who knows his stall's his own, than be in the questionable position of any man, however great. I do not envy him—hem!"