to accept a heart which had been so long wedded to another, and that
other a living object. But my mother had convinced herself, and had no
difficulty in convincing him, that I was deceived in the strength of my
former attachment; that she had originally, though unconsciously,
directed my thoughts to him; that, like a romantic girl, I had thought
it pretty to be in love, and that my fancied passion had been irritated
by obstacles; but that, when once _his_ wife, I should find that _he
alone_ had ever been the real possessor of my affections.
It is curious to observe how easily even the most sensible persons can
forget, and believe, according to their wishes. My mother had absolutely
forgotten the proofs of my strong attachment to Seymour, which she had
once so much deplored. She forgot my illness, which if not caused was
increased by his letter of reproach; she forgot the tell-tale misery
which I had exhibited on the road to Oxford, and she did not read in the
firmness with which I still persisted to see Seymour again, a secret
suspicion of still lingering love.
But the crisis of our fates was fast approaching: I received an
invitation to spend the months of May and June in London, with a friend
who had once resided near us, and who had gone to reside in the
metropolis.
I felt a great desire to accept this invitation; and my mother kindly
permitted me to go, but declined going herself, saying that it was time
_I_ should learn to live without _her_, and _she_ without _me_.
Accordingly, for the first time we were separated. But this separation
was soon soothed to me by the charms of the life which I was leading. I
was a new face: I was only seventeen, and I was _said_ to be the heiress
of considerable property. This, you know, was an exaggeration; my
fortune was handsome, but not very large: however, I was followed and
courted, but none of my admirers were in my opinion at all equal to
Seymour or De Walden: they gratified my vanity, but they failed to touch
my heart.
One day at an exhibition, I met a newly-married lady, who when single
had been staying in the neighbourhood of my mother's uncle during our
last visit, and was much admired both by my mother and myself. This
meeting gave us great pleasure, and she hoped I would come and see her
at her lodgings. I promised that I would.
"But there is nothing like the time present: will you go home with me
now, and spend a quiet day? You must come again when my husband is at
home and I have a party; but he dines out to-day, and I shall be alone
till evening."
"But I am not dressed."
"Oh! I can send for your things and your maid; and such an opportunity
as this of telling you all about my love and my marriage may never occur
again."
I was as eager to hear as she was to tell; my friend consented to part
with me, and I accompanied her home.
In the afternoon while we were expecting two or three ladies of her
acquaintance, and were preparing to walk with them in the park, my
friend received a little note from her husband.
"That is so like Ridley," said she. "However, this is an improvement;
for he often goes out and invites half-a-dozen people to dinner without
giving me any notice: but now he has only invited one man to supper, and
has sent to let me know they are coming. His name I see is the same as
yours, Seymour Pendarves: is he a cousin of yours?"
"What!" cried I, almost gasping for breath, "Seymour Pendarves in
England, and coming hither!"
"Yes; but what is the matter, or why are you so agitated?"
"If you please I will go home, I had rather go home."
Mrs. Ridley looked at me with wonder and concern, but she was too
delicate to ask me for the confidence which she saw I was not disposed
to give. She therefore mildly replied that if I must leave her, she
would order her servant to attend me.
A few moments had restored my self-possession: and I thought that as the
time was now arrived when I could, by seeing Pendarves, enable myself to
judge of the real state of my heart, I should be wrong to run away from
the opportunity.
"But pray tell me," said I, "when you expect Mr. Ridley and his
friends?"
"Oh not till it is dark, not till near supper-time."
Immediately (I am ashamed of my girlish folly) I had a strong desire to
discover whether Seymour would recognise my person, altered as it was in
height and in size; and I also wished to get over the first flutter of
seeing him without its being perceived by him. In consequence I told
Mrs. Ridley that Seymour was my cousin, but that he had not seen me
_standing_ since I was grown so very tall; and I had a great wish to
ascertain whether he would know me. "Therefore," said I, "do not order
candles till we have sat a little while."
Mrs. Ridley smiled, fully persuaded that, though I might speak the
truth, I did not speak _all_ the truth. I was at liberty in the mean
time, during our walk in the park, to indulge in reverie, and to try to
strengthen my agitated nerves against the approaching interview. But
concerning what was I now anxious?--Not so much to ascertain whether I
loved _him_, but whether he loved _me_. Alas! this anxiety was a certain
proof that he was still the possessor of my heart, and that of course I
ought not to be and could not be the wife of De Walden.
Just as we stopped at the door, on our return from our walk, Mr. Ridley
was knocking at it, accompanied by Seymour. I felt myself excessively
agitated, while I pulled my hat and veil over my face: to avoid a
shower, we had crowded into a hackney-coach. Luckily I had not to get
out first; but judge how I trembled when I found Seymour's hand
presented to assist me. My foot slipped, and if he had not caught me in
his arms, I should have fallen. Mrs. Ridley, however, good-naturedly
observed, that she had been nearly falling herself, the step was so bad,
and her friend _Miss Pen_ was also very short-sighted. I now walked up
stairs, tottering as I went.
"Fanny," whispered Mr. Ridley to his wife, "who is she?" She told him I
was a Miss Pen, and she would tell him more by and by.
"Pray, Fanny, when do you mean to have candles?" said Mr. Ridley.
"Not yet; not till we go to take off our bonnets. I like this light, it
is so pleasant to the eyes."
"Yes, and so cheap too," replied her husband. "But I wonder you should
like this sort of light, Fanny, for you are far removed yet from that
period of life when _le petit jour_ is so favourable to beauty: you are
still young enough to bear the searching light of broad-eyed day, and so
I trust are all the ladies present; though I must own a _veil_ is always
a suspicious circumstance," he added, coming up to me.
"Yes, yes," said his wife, "I always suspect a veil is worn to conceal
something."
"But it may be worn in mercy," he added; "and perhaps it is so here, if
I may judge of what is hidden by what is shown: if I may form an opinion
indeed from that hand and arm, on which youth and beauty are so legibly
written, I--"
Here, confused and almost provoked, I drew on my gloves; and Mrs.
Ridley, who loved fun, whispered her husband,
"Do not go on; she is quite ugly, scarred with the confluent small-pox,
blear-eyed, and hideous: you will be surprised when you see her face."
She then begged to speak to me; and as I walked across the room in which
we sat to join her in the next, I saw Ridley whisper Pendarves.
"May be so," he replied: "but her figure and form are almost the finest
I ever saw."
"And yet I am so very tall," said I to myself with a joy that vibrated
through my frame.
The conversation now became general; and on a lady's being mentioned who
had married a second husband before the first had been dead quite a
year, Pendarves, to my consternation, began a violent philippic against
women, declaring that scarcely one of us was capable of a persevering
attachment; that the best and dearest of husbands might be forgotten in
six months; and that those men only could expect to be happy who laid
their plans for happiness independently of woman's love.
It is strange, but true, that the indignation which this speech excited
in me enabled me to conquer at once the agitation which had hitherto
kept me silent. Coming hastily forward, I exclaimed, while he rose
respectfully,
"Is it for you, Mr. Seymour Pendarves, to hold such language as this?
Have you forgotten Lady Helen, your own blessed mother, and her friend
and yours?"
So saying, while he stood confounded, self-judged, and full of wonder,
for the voice and manner were mine, but the height and figure were no
longer so,--I left the room; and a violent burst of tears relieved my
oppressed heart.
Mrs. Ridley then rang for a candle and considerately left me to myself.
Oh! the flutter of that moment when I re-entered the drawing-room, which
I found brilliantly lighted up! Seymour, who had I found now doubted,
and now believed, the evidence of his ears in opposition to that of his
sight, was standing at the window; but he turned hastily round at my
entrance, and our eyes instantly met.
"Helen!" exclaimed he, springing forward to meet me, while my hand was
extended toward him; and I believe my countenance was equally
encouraging. That yielded hand was pressed by turns to his lips and his
heart; but still we neither of us spoke, and Seymour suddenly
disappeared.
Mr. Ridley, who was that _melancholy_ thing to other people a _professed
joker_, to my great relief (as it enabled me to recover myself,) now
came up to me bowing respectfully, and begged me to veil my face again;
for he saw that my excessive ugliness had been too much for his poor
friend, and he hoped for his sake, as well as that of the rest of
mankind, I would conceal myself from sight.
I told him, when his friend came back I would consider of his
proposition, and if he approved it I would veil directly.
Before Seymour returned, I asked Mr. Ridley whether he suspected who his
presuming monitor was.
"Pray, madam," he archly replied, "say that word again. What are you to
Mr. Pendarves?"
"I said 'Monitor.'"
"Oh--_monitor_! I thought you were _something_ to him, but did not
exactly _know what_. No wonder he was so alarmed at sight of you, for
monitors, I believe, have a right to chastise their pupils; and I begin
now to fear he will not come back. Do you use the ferule or the rod,
Miss Pendarves?"
"You have not yet answered my question, sir!"
"Oh! I forgot. 'Heavens!' cried he, as you closed the door, 'is it
possible? Could that be my cousin, Helen Pendarves? Yes, it could be no
other; and yet'----Is that like him, madam?"
"Oh! very!"
"'Well,' I, in the simplicity of my heart, replied, 'your cousin she may
be; but my wife told me her name was Pen.'
"'Oh yes, it must be Helen--it was her own sweet voice and manner!'
"'She is given to scolding, then--is she?' said I.
"'Oh!' said he, 'she is!' But I will spare your blushes, madam; though I
must own that I could not believe you _were_ the lady in question,
because my wife told me you were hideous to behold, and _he_ said you
were a beauty: besides, when he last saw you, he added, you were thin
and short; but then he eagerly observed, that a year and a half made a
great difference sometimes, and you had not met during that period. But
here comes the gentleman to answer your questions himself. What I
further said did not at all please him."
"No! what was it, sir?"
"That, if you were indeed Miss Helen Pendarves, you were a great
nuisance, for that you had won and broken at least a dozen hearts; but
that it was a comfort to know you would soon be removed from the power
of doing further mischief, as you were going to be married to a Swiss
gentleman, and would soon leave the kingdom."
"And you told him this?" cried I, turning very faint.
"Yes, I did; and he had just turned away from me, when you made your
appearance."
Seymour now entered the room; and I was, from this conversation, at no
loss to account for the gloom which overspread his countenance, while he
hoped Miss Pendarves was well.
"My dear Fanny," said Mr. Ridley, who must have his joke, "I hope you
will make proper apologies to this gentleman and me, for having exposed
us to such a horrible surprise as the sight of that lady's face has
given us. Pray, was this ungenerous plan of concealment Miss Pendarves's
or yours?"
"Her's, entirely."
"But what was her motive?"
"She wished to see whether her cousin would know her through her veil."
"Oh! she was acting Clara in the Duenna; you know she plays Don
Ferdinand some such trick."
"True; but Ferdinand and Clara were _lovers_, not cousins."
"Cannot cousins be lovers, Fanny?"
Here the entrance of the servant with supper interrupted the
conversation, and Seymour and I sat down to it with what appetite we
could.
"It is astonishing," said Mr. Ridley, "what use and habit can effect; I
have already conquered my horror at sight of your friend's face; and I
see Mr. Pendarves has not only done the same, but I suspect he is
meditating a drawing of it, to send to the Royal Society, as a _lusus
naturæ_."
In spite of himself, Seymour smiled at this speech, and replied, while I
looked very foolish, that he was gazing at me with wonder, as he could
not conceive how I had gained so many inches in height since he saw me.
"I grew several inches after my fever," I replied.
"Fever? When--where--what fever, Helen? I never heard you were ill."
"Oh yes, I was--and my life was despaired of."
"You in danger, Helen, and I never knew it!"
"It was really very unkind," said Ridley, "to keep such a delightful
piece of intelligence from you."
"But _when_ was it, dear Helen?"
"When I saw you on the road to Oxford, I was only just recovered."
"Only just recovered! You did not look ill; but I remember you had your
veil down, so I really did not see your face."
"So, so; wearing her veil down is a common thing with her--is it? I am
glad she is so considerate."
These jokes, however, had their use; for they tended to keep under the
indulgence of feelings which required to be restrained in both of us, in
the presence of others.
"But, when were you first seized, Helen? and what brought on your
fever?" said Seymour, as if urged by some secret consciousness.
You will not wonder that I blushed, and even stammered, as I answered,
"I was not quite well when I saw you in the church--and--and----"
"And what?"
"I was seized that night, and when my mother returned, she found me very
ill indeed!"
"That night!" Here he started from his seat.
"Ah Fanny!" cried Mr. Ridley, "you _would_ buy them! I always objected
to them."
"Buy what, my dear Ridley?"
"These chairs; I always said they were such uneasy ones, no one could
sit on them long--you see Mr. Pendarves can't endure them."
I was very glad when Seymour sat down again; when he did, he leaned his
elbows on the table, and gazed in my face as if he would have read the
very bottom of my soul. But hope seemed to have supplanted despair. Mr.
Ridley now suddenly rose, and holding his hand to his side, cried, "Oh!"
in such a comic, yet pathetic manner, that though his wife really
believed he was in pain, she could not help laughing; then, seizing a
candle, he went _oh-ing_ and limping out of the room, leaning on her
arm, and declaring he believed he must go to bed, if we would excuse
him.
There was no mistaking his motive, and Seymour was not slow to profit by
the opportunity thus good-naturedly offered him.
"Helen!" he exclaimed, seating himself by me, and seizing my hand, "is
what I heard true--am I the most wretched of men--is this hand promised
to De Walden?"
"No--not yet promised."
"Then you mean to give it to him?"
"Certainly not _now_."
"Why that emphasis on _now_?"
"Because I am sure I do not love him sufficiently."
"And since when have you found this out?"
I did not answer; but my tell-tale silence emboldened him to put his own
interpretation on what I had said; and now, for the first time,
unrestrained by any unwelcome witness, he passionately pleaded the
interests of his own love, and drew from me an open confession of mine.
Nor was there long a secret of my heart which was withheld from him; and
while he rejoiced over the certainty that his rival's hopes were
destroyed by this interview, I rejoiced in hearing that the conviction
he had received of my affection for him, had preserved him from
temptations to which he would probably otherwise have yielded.
"But they are returning," cried he; "tell me where you are, and promise
to see me to-morrow, my own precious Helen! Never, never was I so happy
before."
"Nor I," I could have added; but I believe my eyes spoke for me, and I
promised to see him the next day at eleven. He had just time to resume
his chair when Mr. and Mrs. Ridley returned.
"I have been very unwell," said Ridley, "and am so still; but I would
come back, as she would not leave me, because I was sure, what with the
uneasy chairs, and Miss Pen's ugly face, you would be so fretted, Mr.
Pendarves, that you would never come hither again.
"'But then, my dear,' said Fanny, 'you forget they are relations, and
must love each other.'
"'That I deny,' said I, 'if they are not both loveable.'
"'And then,' says she, 'they have not met for so long a time, and have
so much to say.'
"'I don't believe that,' says I: 'if so, they would have taken care to
meet sooner'----but pray what has happened to you both since we went
away? Well, I declare, such roses on cheeks, and diamonds in eyes! and,
I protest, Miss Pen has learnt to look straight-forward, and is all
dimples and smiles! and this, too, when, for aught you both knew, I
might be dying!"
Seymour and I were now too happy not to be disposed to laugh at any
absurdity which Ridley uttered; and never before or since did I pass so
merry an evening. Seymour was as gay and delightful as nature intended
him to be: you will own that the word "_fascinating_" seemed made on
purpose to express him; and I, as he has since told me, appeared to him
to exceed in personal appearance that evening (animated as I was with
the consciousness of loving and being beloved) all the promises of my
early youth; nor could he help saying--
"Really, Helen, I cannot but look at you!"
"That is very evident," observed Ridley.
"Yes, but I mean that I look at her because--because----"
"You cannot help it, and it requires no apology. I have a tendency to
the same weakness myself."
"But I mean you are so surprisingly altered--so grown--so----"
"Say no more, my dear sir," cried Ridley, interrupting him, "for it must
mortify the young lady to see how much she has outgrown your knowledge
and your liking! and she is such a disgrace to your family, that it is a
pity there is no chance for her changing _her name_, poor thing! those
blear eyes must prevent that. I see very clearly, indeed, she is likely
to die _Helen Pendarves_."
This observation, much to Ridley's sorrow, evidently clouded over the
brows of us both; for we both thought of my mother, and I of poor De
Walden. But the cloud soon passed away; for we were together, we were
assured of each other's love, and _we were happy_.--Nor did we hear the
watchman call "past one o'clock," without as much surprise as pain.
However, Pendarves walked home with me, and that walk was not less
interesting than the evening had been.
But, alas! my mother's image awaited me on my pillow. I could not help
mourning over the blighted hopes of De Walden, nor could I drive from my
startled fancy the suspicion that I had committed a breach of duty in
receiving and returning vows unsanctioned by her permission, or satisfy
my conscience that I had done right in allowing him to call on me the
next day. But I quieted myself by resolving that I would instantly write
to my mother, tell her what had passed, and see Seymour only that once,
till she gave me her permission to see him more frequently.
He came at eleven, and I told him what I meant to do. He fully approved,
but declared he would not consent to meet evil more than half way, and
give up seeing me. On the contrary, he was resolved to see me every day
till she came; and as Mr. Pendarves our uncle was just come to his house
in town, he meant to tell him how we were situated, and he was very sure
that he would approve our meeting as much as possible. On leaving me he
proceeded to lay his case before our uncle, while I sat down to write to
my mother. It was a long letter bathed with my tears; for was I not now
pleading almost for life and death? If I loved Pendarves when my
affection was not fed by his professions of mutual love, how must that
flame be now increased in fervour, when I had heard him plead his cause
two days successively, and had enjoyed with him hours of the tenderest
uninterrupted intercourse! Wisely had my mother acted in forbidding us
to meet, as she wished to annihilate our partiality; for absence and
distance are the best preventives, if not the certain cures of love.
My letter, which was full of passion, regrets, apologies and pity for De
Walden, was scarcely finished, when I was told that a gentleman who was
going immediately into Warwickshire, and would pass close by my mother's
door, would take charge of it. I foolishly confided it to his care; I
say "foolishly," because the post was a surer conveyance. However, I
could not foresee that this gentleman would fall ill on the road; that
he would not deliver my packet till ten days after it was written; and
that I was therefore allowed to spend many hours with Pendarves
unprohibited; for my uncle approved our meeting, and desired our union,
declaring that he had always thought my mother severe in her judgment of
his nephew, and that while considering the fancied interests of her own
child, she had disregarded his.
"Besides," added he, "I am the head of the family, and I command you to
meet as often, and to love as much, as ever you choose."
Alas! I obeyed him only too well, though my judgment was not blinded to
the certainty that he had no rights which could invalidate those of my
mother; and though I rejoiced at not receiving her command to cease to
receive Pendarves, I was beginning to feel uneasy at her silence, when a
letter from her reached me, saying, she was on her road to London, where
she would arrive that night, and should take up her abode with our
friend Mr. Nelson.
Never before had I been parted from my mother, and till I met Pendarves
I had longed for her every day during my stay in London; but now,
self-reproved and ashamed, I felt that a yet dearer object had acquired
possession of my thoughts and wishes, and the once devoted child
dreaded, rather than desired, to be re-united to one of the best of
mothers.
She came; and we met again, as we had parted, with tears; but the nature
of those tears was altered, and neither of us would have liked to
analyze the difference.
Long and painful was the conversation we had together that night, before
we attempted to sleep. I found my mother fully convinced that there was
a necessity for my not marrying De Walden, a necessity of which he was
now himself convinced; for she had gone round by Cambridge, in order to
see him: but she was not equally convinced that there was a necessity
for my marrying Pendarves, as all her objections to that marriage
remained in the fullest force.
The next morning she opened her heart on the subject to Mrs. Nelson, who
was Seymour's warm advocate, and assured her, that if she made proper
inquiries, she would find that the character of Pendarves was
universally spoken of as unexceptionable; and that whatever might have
been the errors of _the youth_, they were forgotten by other people in
the merits of _the man_.
"Ay, but a mother's heart can't forget them," she exclaimed, "when her
child's happiness is at stake!" and she begged to have no private
conversation with Seymour till the next day. In consequence, she saw him
only in a party at my uncle's, where she was struck with the great
improvement both of his face and person, for both now wore the
appearance of health; and the countenance which, when she last surveyed
it, bore the stamp of sickness and sorrow, now beamed with all the
vivacity of youth and hope.
The party was a mixed one of cards and dancing; and as she gazed on
Pendarves when he stood talking to me, he recalled forcibly to her mind
the image of my father, as she first beheld him in a similar scene,
four-and-twenty years before.