Thus, on the morrow after Lady Glenmore's arrival, the better though perhaps painful feelings with which she arose were not suffered long to maintain their ascendancy. The throng of inquirers and friends, and ofdésœuvrépersons, who flocked around her, soon banished all reflection. The inquisitive, investigating spirit of a long morning'stête-à-têtewith Lady Tilney, the empty nothingness of Lady Ellersby's converse; the worldly-mindedness of Lady De Chere, and the frivolity of all; with a subsequentsoiréethat closed the scene of her first recognizance in London; were circumstances well calculated to turn away Lady Glenmore from any salutary train of thought, which, if steadily entertained, might have led to a good result. She found even in Lord Albert's constant presence (for he now almost lived with Lord Glenmore) a secret satisfaction, a something ofthe continuation of that scattering of attention which had become habitual to her during her last four months' residence on the continent; and the circumstance of never being alone with her husband in the once happy privacy of domestic quiet, which some time previously she would have mourned over and regretted, was now an agreeable relief to her. What a fatal symptom it is of the state of the affections, when the presence of any third person is felt to be a relief, in the habitual intercourse of daily life between man and wife! It is a touchstone by which all married persons may try the condition of their hearts; and one by whose proof it is always well to abide, if any lurking evil is found to endanger happiness.
Although Lady Glenmore might not feel that there was much to hide in what had passed during her absence, and that many would have called her conduct, only living as others do who live in the world, yet her nature, originally, was so amiable and ingenuous, that she still reserved a place in her breast for that silent monitor which had never wholly left its station; and it told her that perhaps all that had been said, and done, and written, and permitted, would not have been agreeable to her husband. There are a thousand minor occurrences,which, when considered apart, arenotof criminal nature; but which, when taken together, form a tremendous aggregate of danger, and which are most certainly detrimental to the purity of married love. If the sources of the heart are polluted, of what value is the nature of the virtue that is left?
Lady Glenmore certainly did feel that there were circumstances attendant on herséjourat Paris and at Spa which she would not relate to her husband; and she was happy to think Lord Albert's constant presence afforded a check to any but general allusions on the subject of her tour. Had Lord Glenmore been unoccupied with public affairs, or had henotbeen one whose own uprightness of heart and conduct shut out all suspicion of others, he might have observed that something ofgênein Lady Glenmore's manner rendered her different from what she had been. But, delighted to be once more with his wife; happy in her presence, and in the joyousness which her renovated health and beauty diffused around him; and frequently absorbed, besides, in those cares which abstract a man from many of those minute perceptions that idle people are alive to, he observed not the alteration in her manner.
Three days, however, after her return, a caseaddressed to Lord Glenmore at his office in Downing-street was forwarded from the custom-house at Dover. On the box being opened, it was found to contain aporte-feuilleresembling those in which public papers are transmitted between official personages, and was stamped with a coronet, and with the initials G. G. The box itself was not fastened, and was accompanied by a note from one of the heads of the custom-house, stating, that it had been left at Dover some days back; and, from all accounts, by one of his lordship's servants in the hurry of departure, the initials on the box seeming to authorize the supposition. On the note being handed to Lord Glenmore by his secretary, he desired him to inspect the contents of theporte-feuille; and when informed that it seemed to contain papers of a private nature, Lord Glenmore desired to see it himself. He found it filled with letters addressed to Lady Glenmore, and amongst others, some which he recognised as being his own; and he was about to give orders that it should be sent to his house, concluding it was a mistake, when, on removing some of the letters, and lifting them up for the purpose of shutting the box, a miniature portrait attracted his eye. He thought he recognised the features. He paused for a moment, still gazing at it. Atlast he exclaimed, "Why! this is surely Leslie Winyard's portrait! How came it here? This must be a mistake!" Again he looked at the letters, but there was no mistake. The letters were all addressed to Lady Glenmore, and some of them were his own.
He involuntarily shuddered. For a moment he half doubtedwhatto do; whether to close the box, and leave it to Lady Glenmore to explain a circumstance which appeared so strange, or whether himself to endeavour to elucidate the mystery by an investigation of the contents. He hesitated between these two resolves, while his hand mechanically turned the papers over. In another moment his attention was arrested by a few brief words beginning, "You will not leave Paris, surely, so cruelly, so unexpectedly? Remember there are duties of the heart, as well as those ofconvenance. I rely upon your giving me some days to prepare for your absence: indeed you owe me this favour;"—and the note ran on in a similar strain of familiarity, and implied confidence of a return of sentiment.
To a person of Lord Glenmore's open, unsuspicious nature, the shadow of such a discovery as seemed now unfolding itself was paralyzing; yet he was a man of too much strong sense alike to shrink frominvestigation when such was necessary, as to act upon any sudden impulse, or form a hasty conclusion. There was enough, however, in what he had seen, to make him think deeply, fearfully, and to determine him on probing the matter at once to its very source.
After a few moments' reflection, his resolution was taken. He knew that to breathe such a suspicion as these circumstances created of the woman he loved, even to herself, if shewereinnocent, would be the severest wound and deepest degradation that could be inflicted on her heart; and if she werenotinnocent, that it would demand more of calm reflection, than, in the agony of excited feelings, he could perhaps command, in order to come to any decision. He determined, therefore, ere he took any further step in the business, to proceed to an immediate examination of theporte-feuille. With every nerve stretched to agony, and a brain on fire, he removed the papers one by one, turning over all the letters and notes it contained. He dreaded to find what he was searching for. Who can express the pain of such a search? It was some time before he found any character assimilating to those of the note he had already perused. At length, when he came near the bottom of the portfolio, the samehand-writing presented itself on a thousand scraps of paper, and on the direction of various letters.
Again he started, and was obliged for a moment to pause,—his senses refused their office; but, in another, he rallied; though with that inward tremor which checks the pulse of life, he turned them over, and, seizing the first that presented itself, read it with a perfect knowledge of its contents. The notes and letters were numerous, yet he missed not one; but continued to read them carefully through with breathless eagerness, alive to the apprehension of discovering, at every line of their perusal, something that would inflict a more deadly wound than he had yet received. When he came to the conclusion, he literally gasped for breath. "Thank God," he exclaimed, as he dashed a burning tear from his cheek, "there is nothing positively to criminate the wife of my bosom!" But to so fond, so noble and faithful a heart as Lord Glenmore's, was it not sufficient agony to find, that, while absent from him, her intimacy with another had been of that kind which could permit of such a correspondence?—a correspondence which proved that her intercourse with Mr. Leslie Winyard had been of that nature which sullies the purity of a married woman; and which proved, likewise, that it had been oneof daily habitude, and that not only had the hours of the day been passed in his presence, but often, by the dates of the notes, it was evident she must have received them in the morning before she arose, and at night, after she had retired to rest. Was this not sufficient to harrow up his soul? Calling, however, to his aid as much calmness as the circumstances in which he was placed could admit, he reperused the notes, to avoid all chance of a hasty or superficial judgment; and again he had the consolation of feeling certain that they in nowise criminated Lady Glenmore, however much they proved her guilty of an indiscretion of a most perilous kind.
The letters were the artful compositions of a man of intrigue, such as he knew Mr. Leslie Winyard to be; and in the intimacy which they discovered there was a stain on the character of Lady Glenmore, which, though many degrees removed from positive vice, was still a degradation to her and to himself. And is there not a pang of long remorse to follow such a dereliction of duty? And are there not tears of penitence, wrung from the heart's inmost core, to be shed, which, though they through mercy wash out sin, cannot wash out shame? And is there not a something, too, of self-condemnationthat pierces the heart of the husband who can, in the veriest shadow of a shade, impute to his own neglect, or carelessness, or over-weening security, his wife's aberrations? Oh! what a world of solemn reflection was now opened up before Lord Glenmore's view! Bitterly did he repent having ever suffered a man of such a character as Mr. Leslie Winyard to be on terms even of acquaintance in his house.
It was not the time, however, to dwell on this irretrievable point; neither to give way to the suspicions which flashed across him, of Lady Tenderden's having been, at least, deeply to blame in suffering the progress of an affair of which she must have been aware, and which she ought to have arrested in its course by returning home directly. Neither did he suffer himself to dwell on the reflection, that perhaps the society into which Lady Glenmore had been thrown in England might have laid the foundation of her present deviation from propriety. It was all too late. It was enough, for the present moment, to know, by the evidence before him, that a fearful evil existed; and he prayed inwardly that he might already have learned its full extent. He felt that he could have no surer test how far Lady Glenmore's heart was involvedin the error of her conduct, than by a direct appeal to herself; for he thought, "It is impossible she could as yet have lost that ingenuousness, that openness of disposition, which was ever her peculiar charm! The brief space of a few months cannot have uprooted virtues which were the growth of years! Should it be,"—and again he offered up aspirations to Heaven that strength and counsel might be given him to act for the best under all circumstances, and as in a Christian spirit he ought to do.
Immediate action, under a sense of mental agony, is less painful than an inactive endurance; and Lord Glenmore hastened home to sound the full depth of his misery. Arrived at his house, he found Lady Glenmore was out. He felt it impossible to meet her any where but under his own roof and alone, and was therefore determined to await her return. It was late before she came in; and as she hurried from her carriage, she gave orders that it should be at the door again in an hour, and was proceeding hastily to her apartment to change her dress for dinner, when a servant followed her half way up stairs, saying that Lord Glenmore had desired to see her ladyship as soon as she entered. "Tell Lord Glenmore," she replied, in a gay tone of voice, "that I am very late, and have hardlytime to dress. I am going to dine with Lady Tenderden; but I will see him before I go out. At what time is Lord Glenmore's carriage ordered? at eight, is it not?"
"I believe so, my lady," was the reply.
"Oh! very well. Then I shall be with him before I go out."
Lord Glenmore, however, had heard his wife's voice; and coming out of his room he called to her, "Georgina, I must speak with you." There was something in the tone in which he spoke unlike its usual sound, which made Lady Glenmore, without waiting to answer, descend immediately to his room. She entered, and was beginning to state the purport of the message she had sent to him by the servant, when he said to her, in the same grave and impressive tone, "Georgina, you cannot leave home to-day."
"What is the matter?" she exclaimed. "My father! is he ill? or my mother? Whathashappened? Has any thing befallenthem?—For mercy's sake tell me;"—and she rushed into his arms trembling and in tears. Lord Glenmore bade her compose herself. "They are well, quite well," he said; and gently disengaging himself from her, he gazed at her for a moment in silence, as though he wouldread her inmost soul; and then said, "Georgina, have you no other cause for apprehension than for the safety of your parents?"
"Oh, yes!" she replied wildly, "for yourself;" and again flung herself into his arms. "Has anything grievedyou? has any thing befallen you?"
Lord Glenmore was touched by this genuine mark of feeling for himself, which he knew her too well to think was assumed. He sighed deeply; and pressing his hand on his breast, unconsciously gave utterance to the hope which, at the moment, this proof of her affection afforded him, murmuring audibly, "All may yet be well." Lady Glenmore looked at him with inquiring eye; when at length, taking from the table the packet of Leslie Winyard's letters, he opened them before her, asking her if she knew them, and if they had been addressed to herself. She looked at them with an expression of surprise; and then mingled shame and dismay were painted on her countenance, the colour went and came in her cheek, her lip trembled, and covering her face with her hands, she burst into an agony of tears.
"Georgina, I adjure you," said her husband in the most solemn tone, rendered hollow and tremulous by emotion, "I call upon you by all that issacred; by your vows, plighted to me at the altar; by the love which, if all things are not alike deceptive, you have till lately evinced towards me——."
"Till lately!" she interrupted him, with a gesture and an expression of the most harrowing agony, "oh! ever, ever!"—and would again have thrown herself into his arms, but that Lord Glenmore retreated from her advance, and she fell on her knees with clasped hands before him, and raising her eyes stedfastly to his, remained in silent supplication, till Lord Glenmore, evidently as much moved as herself, gently raised her, and bidding her sit on the sofa by him, said, "You must be calm, Georgina. I must hear your explanation. I need not ask you if you felt there was no impropriety, as a married woman, in your receiving notes of this description: your agitation proves that you feel it was wrong. But I must first know how you came to admit of any addresses of the sort; and then I must learn how far your error has proceeded, and whether your heart is engaged in it."—Lady Glenmore shook her head in agony of denial.—"And remember, Lady Glenmore," continued Lord Glenmore, "that whilst the most perfect openness on your part can alone restore you in time to my affection, so also any deception for the moment,or any success in imposing on me, must eventually recoil on yourself, and only hasten your ruin and the entire loss of my heart and esteem."
Lady Glenmore remained bathed in tears, apparently unable to give utterance to what was passing in her breast.
"If I understand you right, Georgina, by the gesture which this moment escaped you, your heart isnotengaged in this affair. But how, then, I ask, could you for a moment suffer any one to assume an intimacy with you such as these notes testify? Surely it could not be vacancy of affection, and in default of any object of attachment; for was I not myself, a few short months before, the husband of your free choice? Or is it that you are changed indeed?" he added, with a look of inquiring anxiety.
Again Lady Glenmore shook her head in bitterness of sorrow.
"Tell me, then; how long has this kind of familiarity existed between you and the writer of these notes? and tell me, is any one aware of this degrading intimacy?"
"I will tell you all, Glenmore," she exclaimed; "all—all!" Lord Glenmore shuddered to thinkhow his happiness rested on the awful revelation of what that all might be. "I will tell you every thing," she repeated; and endeavouring to still the sobs that burst from her heaving bosom, she began.—"That you, Glenmore, should think my heart engaged to any one but yourself is the deepest pang I feel; and if I have been guilty, in appearance, of any imprudence or indiscretion, it isonly in appearance. In judging me I hope you will be merciful, though perhaps I cannot ask this at your hands. But if you see fit to cast me off, and if what I shall say avail me nothing in restoring me to your affection, still my heart will be yours till it ceases to beat; and as no one has ever shared it for an instant, so shall no oneever, to my dying hour.Igive my heart or my affections to such a one as Mr. Leslie Winyard?—impossible! I could not if I would. You, you alone, can ever possess it. But to evince the tenderness which I feel for you in public, I was told was wrong, was ridiculous; and I was taught to think that you yourself would cease to love me if I troubled you with demonstrations of this fondness. I was told, also, that another than you ought to be my attendant in the world; and the example of those around me confirmed in this idea." Lord Glenmore sighed heavily ashe felt the truth of what last fell from Lady Glenmore.
"Whocouldhave told you this?" he uttered involuntarily.
"Glenmore, did you not yourself tell me that I must look to the conduct of those with whom I lived as the best guide for my own? did you not tell me that Lady Tenderden would be my best model? And if I have displeased you in my late conduct, think how much I have been led into the error by your own directions?"
"Georgina, your heart must tell you, that I could never intend, by any suggestions on my part, that you should form anintimacywith such a person as Mr. Leslie Winyard, at least such an intimacy as you seem to have done by these notes. It is true I might have bid you lay aside the foolish expectation that I should be ever at your side in public; but I could never judge so ill of your understanding, as to suppose that such expressions, on my part, could be interpreted to the extent of endangering your honour and my happiness. But proceed. You have not yet told me how this intimacy has grown, or what encouragement you have given to justify such insolent presumption."
"Indeed, indeed, Glenmore, I can hardly tellyou how. But first, whenever Iwasin public, you were always absent; or, if not absent, at least occupied with others and not with myself. I sat alone,ennuyé, and with a feeling of desertion. At theécartéparties, especially, I felt desolate. To them, you know, no young, unmarried ladies were admitted; and the persons who composed the society were either engaged in play, or else those who sat out were so engaged, two and two, in conversation at distant parts of the room, that I felt awkward in attempting to join them. Oh! how I have sat, night after night, in those fine rooms, thinking how little they afforded happiness, and wishing myself any where else! The first person who paid me any attention was Mr. Leslie Winyard. I found him agreeable and entertaining; and neither saw nor heard, in his manner or conversation, any thing that the whole world might not have seen or heard with me. If others spoke to me, it was a matter of form, or only a passing word, without seeming to care whether I answered or not; while he, on the contrary, always listened to what I had to say with apparent interest,—always seemed impressed with a wish to please me whenever we met; and thus our intimacy commenced. Deprived of you, Glenmore, I thought there wasno harm in amusing myself in public during the time that I was there; instead of being quitedélaissée.Youknow how unwilling I was to enter on a life of dissipation." Lord Glenmore again sighed, as if in assent to the truth of these words; and blamed himself inwardly that he had ever suffered Lady Glenmore to mingle, unprotected by himself, in society which now, for the first time, appeared to him, in its full force, to be of such dangerous tendency, that he felt he ought to have known better.
"But your greater intimacy abroad," he went on to ask, "Georgina? for it was abroad that these notes seem to have been written. Did you receive none such before your departure?"
"None, on my sacred word," she replied.
"Then how came you to admit them?"
"Oh! I can scarcely tell. Sometimes we were left in doubt, the evening before, whether our party was to take place on the following day or not, and he wrote to me to knowhowit was to be. Then I sometimes returned fatigued with our day's excursion, and a note of inquiry would arrive. Then another morning would come flowers, another music, and with all these came notes."
"Did you ever answer them?"
"Very seldom, for you know I hate writing; and when I did it was only a literal word of reply to some question about the hour at which we were to ride or dine out. The notes themselves will tell you this, Glenmore, for they complain of never being answered."
"But if you did not answer, you valued them, Georgina, or you would not have preserved them."
"Yes," she replied, "I liked the attention they proved; but that was all.Imeant no harm; and though Lady Tenderden frequently knew of the circumstance, she never reproved me for receiving them."
"Did Lady Tenderden," exclaimed Lord Glenmore with surprise, "never tell you you were in the wrong, or, at least, imprudent?"
"No—no," Lady Glenmore answered with some hesitation, and as if endeavouring to recollect herself.
"You hesitate, Georgina. Did Lady Tenderden, I ask you pointedly, never make any remark on Mr. Leslie Winyard's attentions to you?"
"Yes, yes; once she did say something."
"What was it?" asked Lord Glenmore, with breathless impatience.
"She told me that I should not encourage Mr.Leslie Winyardalone; that it was bad taste to have but one cavalier; that he would grow tired of me if I did not divide my preference."
"Gracious heaven!" exclaimed Lord Glenmore, striking his hands together; "and is it to this guardianship that I have intrusted you?—But the picture, Georgina, the picture! tell me, how came the picture of that man in your possession?"
"His picture!" repeated Lady Glenmore with surprise.
"Yes," rejoined Lord Glenmore sternly; and taking it from beneath the papers, pointed to it.
"Oh! I remember now; I had totally forgotten it. But one day, when I was writing, he came up to me. We had been talking, the evening before, of remembering people and their features in absence, and I had declared my inability to recall any one, however intimate, to my memory, when I did not see them; and then he said he could not bear me to forget him, and he would put his portrait in myporte-feuille, which I conclude he did; but indeed, indeed I have never looked at it or thought of it since;"—and she raised her eloquent eyes, streaming with tears, full in Lord Glenmore's face.
The latter, during the whole of what had passed, felt that his wife was only the victim of the systemof that society in which she had been cast. He could not for a moment believe that the expression of that genuine feeling which had been displayed could have been assumed,—that the undisguised truth had not been elicited in every word that had fallen from Lady Glenmore's lips,—that she had been led away by the vanity of a designing man's attention, and during a season,perhaps, of neglect on his part.
How could he then, if his honour and her heart were still unpolluted, deal harshly by her? Lord Glenmore's views, on all subjects, were clear and decided; and from what he had elicited from Lady Glenmore, his purpose was fixed, provided she answered him satisfactorily on two points, and with the same ingenuous spirit, and the same conviction. Turning to her, therefore, with much solemnity, he said,
"Georgina, you have been foolish: I believe this to be the extent of your error. I, perhaps, have been unwise in trusting too much to your discretion. But before I can again repose confidence in you, you must first assure me, in the most solemn manner, that you have told meall,—that you have concealed no part of this transaction from me:—you must swear it."
"I swear," exclaimed Lady Glenmore; and falling on her knees, once more raised her hands and eyes to heaven, in affirmation of her words, and in agony of feeling.
Lord Glenmore was deeply agitated. "And then," he continued, his voice faltering with emotion, "you must promise me that you will break off all intercourse and acquaintance with that man."
"All, all!" she cried, embracing his knees; "joyfully I will break it off," and raising an imploring look of love up to his face.
"Voluntarily, freely," he continued, as he gazed at her.
"Yes, Glenmore," she repeated, with deep earnestness. "What is he or his hated name to me, if you but love me? Only trust me, try me, and you will find how devotedly I am your own."
Lord Glenmore was deeply affected; and as she clung to his knees, raised her in his arms, and pressed her convulsively to his heart.
"I will trust you, Georgina," he said, as he impressed a kiss on her forehead—the seal of peace; nor was it impressed in vain. "And now," he added, "you require repose. This has been a deep lesson to you and to myself. Go to your chamber, Georgina, and thank God, as I do, that you havebeen thus saved from degradation and misery." Again Lady Glenmore flinging herself into those dear arms which no longer repelled her embrace, wept for some moments on his neck delicious tears of penitence and love.
Once more alone, Lord Glenmore reviewed all that had passed; and in the calm reflection of a strong mind saw at once the miserable cause, and the nearly fatal effects, of a mode of life, the awful dangers of which he had never till then questioned. He had the honesty to perceive in his own conduct much more to blame than in that of his young and inexperienced wife. His belief amounted to conviction of her innocence, even in regard to the imprudence into which she had been betrayed. A thousand times did he condemn his own mistaken course, and his too confiding nature, as the cause of all that had occurred. A thousand instances did he recall of his having placed Lady Glenmore in circumstances where a less virtuous nature than hers would have fallen a more easy sacrifice.
The delusion of the false system of society in which she had been cast was now unveiled, and a thousand proofs of the immorality and viciousness which marked the course of those with whom hehad habitually lived now stared him in the face; and with a deep feeling of gratitude he raised the voice of thanksgiving to Heaven, that the mist of error had been dispelled in time to save her who was dearer to him than his own life, and in whose happiness his own was involved. How to break from the entanglements of a society which had produced these baneful results was a reflection of difficulty.
Lord Glenmore was too much a man of the world, and too good and just a person, to act hastily in such circumstances; for he well knew that to do so would be only to draw down upon himself and his wife the animadversions of the world at large, and the rancour of those from whom he separated; and in this his wife's character must suffer. It required, therefore, the calmness of repose, and the deliberation of a less agitated mind, to decide on the after-measures to be taken; and with the determination of adopting such as might appear best suited to the circumstances of the case, he retired, at length, to rest.
Whateverconfidence Lord Glenmore felt in possessing the full and undivided affections of Lady Glenmore, yet the particulars of such a disclosure as had come to light, of her intimacy with Leslie Winyard, could not fail, for a long period, to throw a gloom on his existence; and gave birth to a feeling, that the happiness which he had hitherto contemplated as unclouded was now obscured by some of those shades which are incident to all human enjoyments, and which are wisely ordered to wean us, perhaps, from a world we might otherwise love too well.
Convinced, however, that Lady Glenmore had been timely saved from falling a prey to circumstances arising out of the nature of the society into which she was thrown, and which he could not help considering were in a great measure the result of his own want of forethought and care, he felt assured that the decision he had come to was asmuch hisduty, as his heart told him it was hisdesire.
To withdraw Lady Glenmore from that circle was nevertheless no easy task. Habits of conventional dissipation are seldom broken through without producing a mutual aversion between the parties. From this feeling, on the part of her former associates, it was his anxious wish to guard Lady Glenmore; for he felt that to a young and inexperienced heart there can be no greater temptation to return to error, than to be exposed to those sneers and contemptuous remarks which the world of folly is ever ready to apply when it finds itself tacitly reproved.
While, therefore, Lady Glenmore remained exposed, as she must of necessity be for a season, to the casual society of Lady Tenderden, Lady Tilney, and the rest of that party, it would have been impolitic, with the views Lord Glenmore entertained, for him to have adopted any very marked change in his own or Lady Glenmore's outward deportment towards them. But he laid a sure and better foundation of future propriety in the conduct of his wife, by developing to her the dangers and awful consequences which, now that his fears had been timely awakened, he sawexisted in the mode of life and peculiar society in which they had hitherto taken a part.
Struck with dismay at the contemplation of the picture he drew, and while there was no reason to appeal further than to her own good sense, Lord Glenmore felt convinced that the veil had been seasonably removed fromhereyes as well ashis own; and that, with a conviction of the danger which surrounded her, and with affections firmly fixed upon himself, he might discard all fear for the future onheraccount. In regard to her acquaintance, however, with Mr. Leslie Winyard, a more decided line was necessarily taken; and although this step gave rise to some whispers among the younger and more licentious part of the society, and elicited innuendos from Leslie Winyard himself, under which, with real baseness, he sought to conceal the mortification of his abrupt dismissal, yet the more prudent of thecoterierejoiced in the circumstance, as averting the danger of apublic scandalwhich threatened them.
Amongst this number Lady Tilney was loud in dwelling on the fortunatedénouementof an affair which, had it terminated otherwise, might have been detrimental to the interests of the circle in which she reigned; and arrogated to herself the wholemerit of having, by her good policy, been the means of bringing it to this conclusion:—a false and unhallowed presumption, thus to attribute to human agency alone, and human foresight, events which proceed from a higher source than this world's wisdom can reach! but which is too common an error in minds where religion is not the abiding principle.
Neither Lady Tilney, however, nor any of thecoterie, were aware of the determination of Lord and Lady Glenmore to withdraw themselves ultimately from their circle; an event which movements in the political world, as unexpected as they were generally deprecated, greatly facilitated, and of which Lord Glenmore failed not to take advantage, as much for the sake of his domestic peace, as for the maintenance of his political principles. Measures which he felt he never could consistently support were on the point of being brought forward by the head of the ministry; and with that frankness and decision of character which had marked his whole life, he sought permission to retire from public affairs, and resign the office which he held.
Aware of the importance of his support, the minister of the day long sought to retain him on his side; but no arguments of expediency could overcomethe fixed principles of right and wrong by which Lord Glenmore was actuated; and he finally succeeded in liberating himself from the toils of an office which, since the late threatened overthrow of his domestic peace, he had found induced too great a sacrifice of more essential points of happiness. Equally rejoiced with Lord Glenmore was Lord Albert D'Esterre at this event, for in the present state of his mind he found mixing in public, which his official situation imposed upon him, a most irksome burden; and he hailed with satisfaction a circumstance which, as a natural consequence of Lord Glenmore's resignation, freed him also from the toils of office. The first favourable result that accrued from this change was, that it threw Lord Glenmore and Lord Albert more together; who, in the leisure of retirement, experienced the sweets of that steady friendship which is the offspring of mutual esteem.
In a proposal which, soon after these occurrences, Lord Glenmore made to Lord Albert, of taking advantage of their liberation to go abroad, the latter readily joined; not only as being his friend's wish but also as one in which he would have sooner indulged himself, except for the pain he endured at the thought of quitting Lord Glenmore. All barriers to his wishes in this respect being removed, the arrangementsfor a foreign tour were soon completed; and leaving thecoterieastonished at themauvais tonof their quitting London in the middle ofthe season, and when no one was at Paris, and no inducement could exist for aséjourabroad, according to their calculation, Lord Glenmore and Lord Albert were soon consigned to oblivion, and ceased to be subjects of conversation.
They, on their part, quitted London without one of those regrets so generally experienced by the young and gay when bidding adieu to so many seducing phantoms of pleasure—phantoms, however, whose fallacy they had too deeply proved, ever to permit a moment's power over them in future.
The reunited friends pursued their journey in the same route; and although Lord Albert's heart was any thing but light, a degree of serenity was gradually restored to him in the calm of reflection, the interest of the scenes he passed through, and above all in that reflected ray of happiness which he caught from his friend.
A year in this manner had passed away, and Lord Glenmore had recovered that even cheerfulness which is a test of the heart's happiness, and which the assurance of Lady Glenmore's devotedness to himself, and total abandonment of all wish to re-enterscenes from which he had withdrawn her, were calculated to restore. It was at this period that the party found themselves at Naples: and here Lord Albert's proximity to that country of classic name which he had once before visited, and which again seemed to call him to the contemplation of all the interests and beauties which it ever retains, together with that spirit of restlessness, which is the concomitant of an unoccupied heart, tempted him once more to revisit Greece.
In fulfilling this wish, however, he remained some time undecided, from his averseness to quit the Glenmores; but when Lady Glenmore's health at length prevented the possibility of their removing from Naples, he decided on resigning the society of his friends for a few months, and prepared for his departure. However lively his regret at the moment of separation, and however irksome his absence, from Lord Glenmore might appear, Lord Albert's stay in Greece was prolonged far beyond his original intention; for who, once having tasted the delights attendant on Grecian travel, can readily forego the charm it affords? If there is earthly balm for a wounded spirit, it is in the feelings and reflections which such scenes inspire.
In the correspondence that continued betweenLord Glenmore and Lord Albert D'Esterre, he found the former had quitted Italy, and intended to pass the winter in Munich. When, therefore, his own affairs called him imperatively back to England, he took his route through Germany; and arriving late at Munich, stopped there for the night, in order to enjoy a few hours society with the only persons who still, he believed, were solicitous to retain his friendship. The announcement of his arrival was quickly followed by his presence at the hotel inhabited by Lord Glenmore. The meeting and reception were such as may be imagined, though seldom realized, between friends so cordially united; and if it suffered any alloy, it was the contrasted loneliness of Lord Albert's heart with the domestic felicity of Lord Glenmore. But although he felt the pang of self-regret, he was not insensible to the reflected joy of Lord Glenmore's happiness.
His transient visit was soon followed by the declaration of his intended departure on the morrow. But who can tell what a day may bring forth? From this intention he was eagerly dissuaded by the joint entreaties of Lord and Lady Glenmore; and yielding to their solicitations, and the prospect of the pleasure of their society, rather than to the inducement they held out of a court festival that was totake place the following day, he gave a reluctant acquiescence to retard his journey, and promised his attendance at the Court.
On the morrow, Lord Albert arrived at the palace, but late; and was obliged to hurry through the apartments, in order to be in time for his presentation. This formality gone through, he was leisurely retracing his way to rejoin the Glenmores, who stood in a distant part of the circle, when his eyes were attracted to a form which he thought he recognised, but so changed, so pale, so much taller than he had been used to recollect as the image of the person whom the features represented, that he stopped for a moment in doubt. But that moment was sufficient to make him remember all. It was Lady Adeline Seymour who stood before him. For a moment he paused, and was irresolute how to act. His head swam round, and every object in the room became one confused mass. He looked for a way to escape; but escape there was none, without causing much observation, the circle was so closely drawn; and he found he must inevitably proceed in the direction where this magic phantom stood. He endeavoured to arm himself for the dreaded trial; but with every nerve trembling, and every pulse beating, he was forced to move on. He endeavoured to fixhis eyes on the ground, but, in despite of himself, they were constantly raised to the object that so irresistibly attracted them. As he drew nearer, he observed Lady Dunmelraise leaning on the arm of her daughter. Again he started, and gasped with uncontrollable emotion. The Court was breaking up. The current of the throng set in one way, and pressed upon him till he found himself absolutely borne close to the very beings whom, of all others, it caused him the most violent agitation of mingled feelings to meet. "Lord Albert D'Esterre" exclaimed Lady Dunmelraise, and, courtesying, she half smiled as she recognised him. He bowed in silence, unable to speak. Lady Dunmelraise continued to address him:—"Have you been long at Munich, Lord Albert?" "Yes—no—yes—no. I have been"——and he murmured a few incoherent words that admitted of any interpretation, but which she did not misunderstand.
"Adeline, dear!" she said, turning to her daughter, whose head had drooped, and whose eyes sought the ground, "Adeline! do you not recognise Lord Albert D'Esterre?" Lady Adeline bowed without speaking, or raising her head. She was powerless. Lord Albert's eyes were fixed in stupified amazement on her. The crowd had now congregatedaround them, and it was impossible for either party to move. Painful as this situation was, Lord Albert thought he read, in the tremor of Lady Adeline's frame, a something indefinable indeed, but which, nevertheless, breathed of tender reminiscence. In another minute, the glove and fan which she held in her hand dropped from her trembling hold.
Lord Albert hastened to recover them; and, in presenting them to her, the whole recollection of the scene at the Court of London flashed vividly on his mind: the myrtle sprig, the look that had accompanied the bequest of it to him, all returned tohisremembrance; and had it faded entirely from hers? He ventured not to speak; but in this act of common courtesy, while holding the fan by one end as she touched it at the other, there was a mutually tremulous vibration that passed through it, which told him ofall that was thrillingin her heart at the moment, and which instinctively conveyed to him a renovated gleam of hope. Under these feelings, Lord Albert, in his turn, stooped his head to hide the tear that started to his eye, as he acknowledged—for how could he do otherwise than acknowledge?—thatthiswas not the feeling of one indifferent to him.
It needed, however, only a moment's reflection torepress the presumptuous joy which for an instant filled his breast; and, with wounds fresh opened, he sought the opportunity which a movement in the crowd afforded him to rush from the palace to his carriage. Thence he drove impetuously to his hotel, called his servants, gave orders for instant preparations for departure, and hastily changing his dress, and desiring his carriage to attend him at Lord Glenmore's hotel, proceeded thither.
He entered with excited feelings, and a spirit irritated by the most contradictory emotions, and half-inclined to reproach Lord Glenmore for having exposed him to the painful scene which he had just passed through. Lord Albert met him on the staircase, that moment returned from Court. Lord Glenmore looked at him at first with astonishment, and then at his change of dress.
"Glenmore," said Lord Albert in a hurried tone, "I must speak to you;"—and as they entered his apartment, he continued, in agitation:
"Why have you exposed me to this scene? Why did you not tell me that she was here? I have met Adeline;"—and he sunk into a chair, unable to utter more.
"My dear D'Esterre," Lord Glenmore replied, "forgive me. You must know how far it is fromany wish of my heart to pain or agitate yours. That you should have met Lady Adeline under circumstances distressing to your feelings, you may believe I deeply lament: that I knew she was resident here, it could never be my intention to conceal from you: but that your meeting will be ultimately productive of mutual happiness to you both (however agonizing at the moment), I cannot for an instant doubt." Lord Albert paced the room in agitation.
"Hear me; only hear me, D'Esterre, for a few moments." Lord Albert again cast himself into a seat.
"Let me tell you, then, quietly, that since we parted, and particularly since our residence in this place, Lady Adeline has become the intimate friend of my wife. Her secret thoughts have been revealed to Georgina. Need I tell what these thoughts are? They reveal an attachment the truest and most refined that ever warmed a heart, and that heart is wholly and unchangeably your own. Was it possible, D'Esterre, that, knowing you as I do, I should allow what I believe to be the truth to remain secret, and not inform my wife that your affections were in reality centred in Lady Adeline? And again, as your friend, knowing, or, at least, surmising, all those unfortunate circumstanceswhich had arisen to separate you, that I should not endeavour to clear up the misapprehension, and remedy the evil? Was it, too, possible, would it have been the part of a real friend, had I deferred for an instant seeking to place every thing in its true light to Lady Dunmelraise? I should, indeed, have been unworthy of the character, if, from a momentary fear of your displeasure, I had forborne to do so. This I have done, D'Esterre;"—and Lord Glenmore added, half smiling, and extending his hand to him as he spoke, "and for this, as well as for the meeting that has just taken place, I feel you cannotblameme."
"You are all goodness," exclaimed Lord Albert mournfully. "But what then?" he cried with gasping eagerness, "what can it all avail me?"
"What then! why this, D'Esterre—the crowning of your wishes, the fulfilment of your happiness. I found Lady Dunmelraise almost as much enlightened as to the circumstances which broke off your engagement with Lady Adeline as myself; and, in avowing this knowledge, she accompanied it with expressions of regret that she had not herself been more explicit on the subject to you.
"With this understanding of Lady Dunmelraise'ssentiments, and the conviction of Lady Adeline's affections being wholly yours, have I acted wrong, even in apparent violation of your feelings, in bringing about this interview? After all, the first meeting has been, perhaps, as little trying to both as could well be; and it has, with this explanation, I hope, opened the way to a more delightful reverie still. D'Esterre, I adjure you by our friendship, by your own happiness, trust to me, trust to Georgina, and suffer not this fortunate moment to escape! Give way to the genuine impulse of your heart. Let not any false pride, any untimely fears, influence you; but empower me, this very instant, to go to Lady Dunmelraise, and prepare the way for your reception."
Lord Albert D'Esterre, with a sense of happiness too overpowering to admit of any distinct feeling, yielded up all the latent prejudices and pride of his nature, which Lady Dunmelraise's rejection still left rankling in his bosom; and, overcome by the tender entreaties of Lord Glenmore, he at last convulsively exclaimed,
"Go, go, Glenmore! but do not deceive me; do not place me in any position unworthy of your friend." Lord Glenmore waited not an instant, but flew to Lady Dunmelraise, the happy messengerof happy tidings. The purpose of his mission was soon made known, and as soon acceded to; and when Lord Albert, the victim of delusion, found himself once more in Lady Dunmelraise's presence, the cordial pressure of the hand, the expressions of pleasure at again meeting, the tearful eye, and soft intonation of voice, soon assured him that all the justice that could be done him had already taken effect in Lady Dunmelraise's mind; and the half-broken, half-murmured sentences which he attempted in reply were interrupted by the latter calling to Lady Adeline Seymour from the adjoining room. As she came forward with downcast looks and trembling footstep, Lord Albert hastened towards her, took her hands in his, and as he pressed them to his lips, asked her "if she could forgive him?"
In sounds almost inarticulate, she pronounced his name; and as her head was bowed down, overcome with the agitation of such a moment, Lady Dunmelraise approached, pressed their united hands together, and blessed them as her children.
With what inebriation of happiness did Lord Albert quit this scene! with what a cheered and gladdened spirit did he return to Lord Glenmore! with what an overflowing spirit of thankfulness did he pour forth his acknowledgments to thefriend who, under Providence, had restored him to happiness, and with such judicious zeal guided and counselled him to reach the goal!—For these feelings there are no words. To Lady Glenmore also he opened his whole soul, and condemned repeatedly his misapprehension of Adeline's conduct, and his own want of candour; while he listened with rapturous delight to every fresh proof which fell from Lady Glenmore's lips, of Lady Adeline's love; though even in this, there was an anguish mingled with the joy, to think how little he had merited the devotion of such a heart. After some hours had passed, during which Lord Albert, in the delirium of his felicity, scarcely could persuade himself of the reality of a change which so short a time had wrought in his existence, he became calmer; and looking back on the past, he could not but see the over-ruling hand of Providence in all that had befallen him.
The unthinking might call it a chance, which had opened up to him the real character of Lady Hamlet Vernon; and, in the same mistaken levity, might have attributed to the same blind accident the serious reflections which this discovery brought in its train: and continuing in this error, they might ascribe to the same fortuitous power, that he hadreached Munich, a desolate and forlorn being, to whom no object in life presented itself to cheer existence or stimulate exertion; and that, now, how the evolution of a few hours had reversed the whole picture, and placed him on the summit of human happiness!—Yes, the unthinking and the hardened may ascribe all this to chance: but the wise and good know thatchanceis only another word for Providence; and that in every turn of our lives, in every minutia which affects our existence here or hereafter, there is a mightier power to be acknowledged than any secondary cause can alone produce.
"D'Esterre," said Lord Glenmore, as the latter entered the apartment where he was sitting with Lady Glenmore, "D'Esterre, do you know that your carriage has been waiting for hours at the door?" and smiling as he added, "I presume it may go back to your hotel, for I have to tell you that Lady Dunmelraise and Lady Adeline will be here directly." Lord Albert looked his delighted thanks. "And if you intend to make any toilette for dinner," continued the former, "there is no time to lose." Lord Albert arose, pressed the hands of both his friends to his heart, and promised to return instantly.
As he descended the staircase, he saw his old servantComtois, who held his travelling cloak. Lord Albert said, as he passed him, "No, Comtois, no." The former made a sign to the courier to mount. Lord Albert observed this, and turning round, added, "Comtois, I shall not set off to-day."
"No,milor?" rejoined the latter with surprise, his features catching a portion of the joy that gleamed from his master's face, and to which such an expression had long been a stranger. "Milor, donc, a changé d'intention: il ne part pas."
"No, Comtois; and I must dress as soon as possible, so go to my hotel." The servant hastened forward to execute these orders, with as much alacrity as Lord Albert had shown in giving them; and the grave tone of command to the courier to return with the carriage was changed to one almost of friendly familiarity, as he said, nodding to him, "Luigi,nous ne partons pas.Vite à l'hôtel."
It would be vain to attempt to describe all that passed, all that was said and looked, when they met, between the now happy Lord Albert and Lady Adeline. Much time at Munich was not suffered to elapse, before arrangements were made for Lady Dunmelraise's and her daughter's return to England, whither they were accompanied by Lord Albert; and when arrived there, their union was to takeplace as soon as possible. Lord and Lady Glenmore were entreated to return in time for the ceremony; and the former, re-assured by the two years' devotion and increasing attachment of his wife, now saw no reason for his prolonged stay on the continent.
Lord Albert D'Esterre, on his arrival in England, found some little difficulty in explaining satisfactorily to his father Lord Tresyllian's mind all the contradictory circumstances which had led to Lady Adeline's rejection of him, and in regaining his approbation of their union; but the wounded pride of the latter was at length appeased by the most satisfactory details of all the occurrences, and beyond this Lord Tresyllian had little feeling. The marriage took place a few days after the arrival of the Glenmores, and for nine days formed the subject of wonder and conversation in thecoterieof the exclusives, in which Lord Albert had so nearly made a wreck of happiness.
With this circle, a few excepted, no renewal of intimacy took place, either on the part of Lord Albert or Lord Glenmore. They found, by public report, that the fate of some who had figured in it had been such as their course must sooner or later have brought them to. Mr. Leslie Winyard had married, a few months after Lady Glenmore's departure,an heiress of immense wealth; who, dazzled with the idea of obtaining theentréeinto that circle oftonin which he moved, and betrayed by the delusive hope of reclaiming him from its more destructive follies by her love and devotion, had given him her hand, her fortune, and her happiness. Enormous, however, as was her wealth, it was soon dissipated in the payment of his previous debts, and the endless extravagances into which he plunged: and in eighteen months after their union she had died of a broken heart; having lived to witness the foul desertion of the man for whom she had sacrificed every thing, and who was then living, in open violation of all religious and moral feeling, with a recent victim of his seduction.
Lady Glenmore shuddered as she heard these details, and lifted up her hands in silent thanksgiving to the Almighty for having been preserved from so awful a fate. As regarded Lord Albert, if any thing could have been requisite to confirm him in the proper estimate he had formed of Lady Hamlet Vernon's character, and the danger he had escaped, he would have found it inhersubsequent history; for, pursuing the same course of intrigue in which she had so nearly involved him, she at length fell into the toils spreadfor others, and became the dupe of her own vicious folly. Brought to a situation in which the fruits of her conduct would soon become glaringly apparent, and which, if discovered, must have driven her from that circle where every thing depended on avoidingdetection, and scorned by the man she had sought to inveigle, she was obliged, as a last resource, to veil her infamy by a marriage with Mr. Foley, with whom she lived at present on those terms of mutual unhappiness which would naturally be the consequence of such a union.
Some few there were of thecoterie, who had been timely warned, and, seeing the tendency of the course they were pursuing, had withdrawn from the magic sphere to better and more stable pursuits. Among these was Lord Gascoigne, whose quick intelligence and clear head, accompanied by a goodness of heart which he often concealed under a show of levity, had preserved him from losing himself entirely in the vortex of folly. Lord and Lady Baskerville, too, had seen their error—an error more of the head arising from the contamination of example, than of the heart; and who now lived as became their station, and in the way which bade a fair promise for virtuous happiness; while others of the number continued their heartless round, without coming toany open disgrace, and yet without making any reform. Among these, again, was Lady Tilney, who continued still thesoi-disantqueen ofton, blind to the approach of that period when her empire must yield, in despite of all her strenuous efforts to uphold it, to that of some fresh rising beauty; and still insensible to the dreadful vacuum which in the decline of life, without the sincerity of friendship and the resources of a well-cultivated mind—above all, without religious trust to cheer and gild the setting sun of life—must be the miserable portion of every human creature.
Onedistinguémember of thecoteriewas on the eve of leaving it and the country, not willingly, but from imperative circumstances. The Comtesse Leinsengen, who had for years played the part of a craftydiplomatistewith the government, as well as endeavoured to extend her rule over the circles of fashion, had found herself at last foiled in her political objects: and too proud to bear this defeat, she had announced her departure as decisive; an event that to the minister afforded a feeling of triumph, and no less of secret joy in the breast of Lady Tilney, who had found in her "dear friend" her most dreaded rival and pertinacious opponent. Oh! what a melancholy reflectionto think, if the Comtesse Leinsengen ever did think on any thing beyond views of self-interest and the gratification of self-love, that an intimacy with those with whom she had lived for so many years had been productive of no one friendship that deserved the name, and given birth to no one regret when she was about to leave them probably for ever!
Such, however, would be found to be the case with almost every individual forming part of this circle, where selfishness, heartlessness, and cold over-reaching, alternately swayed every action; passions which, when delineated, at some future day, as they appear exemplified in individual characters on the scene, will give additional strength to the moral lesson intended to be conveyed by this general view ofEXCLUSIVE SOCIETY.
THE END.
LONDON:PRINTED BY THOMAS DAVISON, WHITEFRIARS.