We have hitherto neglected to mention, that in the correspondence held
with Lady Palliser, her ladyship's consent to the future union of her
daughter with our hero was duly sought and obtained.
Indeed Lady Palliser considered, that Caroline's name had been so
provokingly mixed up with that horrible business, as she always
designated the late afflictions of the Arden family, that marrying her
to the remaining brother was now absolutely indispensable, as well as
one which would prove an excellent practical explanation of the whole
affair, and save her the trouble of saying an immensity about it, beside
the risk of being neither understood nor believed. Now, too, that the
title and estates were Alfred's, she had no very particular objection to
him: that is to say, he was just as good now as his brother had
been--though neither were matches such as Caroline might have expected,
had she not made an egregious fool of herself. As to her ladyship's
silly anger with our hero, for daring to admire her daughter more than
herself, it had long since been forgotten amid myriads of more brilliant
conquests.
Previously, however, to the return to England of our travelling party,
Lady Palliser died after a very short illness, having taken cold at some
royal fete, which, when already far from well, she had imprudently
quitted her bed to attend.
This new mourning made it nearly two years after the death of poor
Willoughby before the marriage of Caroline and Alfred was celebrated:
that of Madeline with Mr. Cameron, who through all the troubles of the
family had been faithful, took place as soon as the mourning for her
brother was over.
Prior, however, to these events, and prior also to the return from
abroad of the Arden family, Miss Fips, all her flyers and streamers of
black crape, nay, her very parasol black, reappeared upon the stage,
calling herself Mrs. Arden, and declaring that she had been privately
married to the late Geoffery Arden; of which alleged fact, however, she
failed to produce any satisfactory proof, save and except a son and
heir, on whose behalf she claimed whatever property was left by the
deceased.
This impudent and dishonest attempt of Miss Fips's not only failed in
its object, but produced an effect as little expected as desired, either
by herself or her father; eventually proving the cause of bringing to
light circumstances and letters, sufficient to induce a strict
examination into the nature of the services rendered by Mr. Fips to
Geoffery Arden. While in the course of the investigation thus brought
about, it was clearly proved, that the said Mr. Fips had been one of the
parties engaged in a foul and nefarious conspiracy against the life and
property of Sir Alfred Arden.
When Fips saw how the matter was likely to end, he, by way of precaution
against the heavy fine which constitutes a part of the punishment for
conspiracy, made over, by a fraudulent, antedated settlement, his whole
property to his daughter, with a secret understanding, that she was not
to avail herself of the gift during his life. On the expiration of his
period of imprisonment, however, he found that Miss Fips had possessed
herself of every shilling, married, and gone abroad. He was now to make
his election between begging and going on the parish; for since his late
misfortunes, the infirmities of age--a broken constitution, failing
sight, and a trembling hand--had increased so rapidly upon him, that, to
say nothing of want of character, he could not get employment even as a
copying-clerk in any office. Of the two remaining alternatives, then, he
was less ashamed to beg among strangers than to claim his right of
parish at Arden, where he well knew the deserved abhorrence in which he
was held. Thither, however, in the character of a vagrant, he was
finally passed, without his own consent; and in the workhouse of Arden
parish he died by his own hand, having been driven at last to cut his
throat, in a paroxysm of despair and ineffectual rage, brought on by the
ceaseless revilings, reproaches, and scoffings of his companions; many
of whom, but too justly, laid their ruin at the door of his dishonesty
and ruthless oppression.
Caroline and Alfred, after the cloudy morning of their life cleared up,
enjoyed sunshine to its close. But this we need have scarcely mentioned;
for all the ladies will say, "Who could avoid being happy with Alfred?"
while the gentlemen will, no doubt, be disposed to pay a similar
compliment to Caroline.
Lady Darlingford made an excellent, respectable, and respectful wife.
The first season she appeared in London after her marriage, Lord
Nelthorpe, her early lover, who by this time was separated from his
lady, had the presumption to offer her some insidious compliments,
indicative of continued admiration. They, however, as well as himself,
were received with the scorn they merited.
Louisa and Henry Lyndsey soon began to experience the inconveniences of
poverty; yet, when both happened to be in good humour, they could still
think love better than riches. When, however, any thing ruffled the
temper of either--and where there are difficulties (unless people are
angels, or very good Christians), this will too often be the
case--Louisa would think of, at least, if not regret, the sacrifices she
had made; and Henry would recollect, with indignant resentment, that
Louisa would, in all probability, have jilted him, but for the decided
step he had taken.
These sentiments, after being at first only thought, might at last have
been expressed; and so led, in time, to recrimination, and much
unhappiness. Fortunately, however, an opportune act of liberality on the
part of Alfred, by placing them in easy circumstances, before their
dispositions became soured, prevented so miserable a result.
Madeline, it might be thought, had at least secured wealth. But in the
course of years, she became a widow; and having in early life married an
old man for his money, when no longer young herself, she married a young
one for love, who married her for her money, he being one of the unhappy
younger brother species, and therefore without a shilling of his own.
Having also a taste for extravagance, acquired in childhood under the
parental roof, and, moreover, a fashionable passion for gambling, he
soon contrived to run through her splendid settlement, and at length
found a dwelling for himself within the rules of the King's Bench.
Aunt Dorothea, who, though getting very old (somewhere about eighty-five
or eighty-six), was still living at home, gave her favourite niece a
home at Rosefield Cottage, which finally she willed to her with what
little property else she possessed; but secured all in the hands of
trustees, to preserve it from the extravagant husband.
Mr. Salter senior died, and Mr. Salter junior married; on which the
Misses Salter found themselves constrained, by their limited
circumstances, to betake themselves to a small lodging, where, if we may
be excused the twofold contradiction in terms, they lived _together_ in
_single blessedness_ the remainder of their days, as _miserable_ as bad
tempers, aggravated by discomfort and disappointment, could make them.
They seemed to have but one object in life, which was mutually to thwart
each other, and as they could afford but one sleeping apartment (the
single dressing-glass of which, by-the-by, was a constant bone of
contention), and one sitting-room, each of the smallest possible
dimensions--they had neither means nor opportunity of flying from each
other's ill-humour. The one, too, had a pet dog, while the other
espoused the cause of the cat of the lodging-house; so that these
respective representatives not only furnished a never-failing subject of
quarrel, but whenever there happened to be a moment of truce between
their principals, supplied themselves an underplot in excellent keeping
with the leading drama. For, invariably on making their first appearance
on their own peculiar stage, the rug before the fire, they saluted each
other with a snarl, and a snap, a spit, and a claw in the face; after
which, to do them justice, they did not keep _at it, at it_, like
their betters, but lay down quietly, and went to sleep; puss in general
persisting, notwithstanding a remonstrance or so from pug, on picking
her steps in among his feet, and laying her back on his warm bosom; thus
wisely making herself as comfortable as circumstances would permit.
Why is man called, by way of distinction, _a rational animal_? Man, who,
of all creatures in creation knows the least how to be happy, while
happiness is the end and aim of all.
Oh, happiness! our being's end and aim!
Good, pleasure, ease, content, whate'er thy name:
That something still which prompts th' eternal sigh,
For which we bear to live, or dare to die;
* * * * *
Plant of celestial seed! if dropp'd below,
Say in what mortal soil thou deign'st to grow?
* * * * *
Fix'd to no spot is happiness sincere;
'Tis no where to be found, or every where.
Why, then, is happiness so rare? Because ere it can be possessed, every
virtue must be ours and we must be wise withal, gentle, patient, lowly,
meek; nor at the idle suggestions of vanity, immolate life's realities
on the imaginary altars of _Pride_.
Know then this truth, enough for man to know,
Virtue, alone, is happiness below.
THE END.