|Chetwynd, only son of Mr. Hugh Calverley, a retired Liverpool
merchant, residing at Ouselcroft, in Cheshire, was somewhat singularly
circumstanced, as will have been surmised from the conversation just
recounted--but he had only himself to blame.
Rather more than a year ago--when he was just of age--he had fallen
in love with his father's ward, Teresa Mildmay, a young lady of great
personal attractions, but very small fortune--had proposed to her, and
been accepted.
Teresa had lost both her parents. Her mother, Lady Eleanor Mildmay,
daughter of Lord Rockingham, died when she was quite a child. Her
father, General Mildmay, an Indian officer of distinction, was one of
Mr. Calverley's most intimate friends, and hence it chanced that the
latter was appointed Teresa's guardian.
General Mildmay's demise occurred at Cheltenham about two years prior
to the commencement of our story. By her guardian's desire, Teresa then
came to reside with his daughter at Ouselcroft. Though Mildred was two
or three years younger than her friend, and they were very dissimilar in
character, a sisterly affection subsisted between them. Originating when
they were at school together at Brighton, their friendship had never
since been disturbed. To Mildred, therefore, it was a source of the
greatest satisfaction when Teresa took up her abode with them.
The two girls differed as much in personal appearance as in character.
Both were remarkably goodlooking. Teresa Mildmay had a very striking
countenance. Her features were classical in mould, her complexion dark,
her eyes magnificent, and arched over by thick black brows. Her tresses
were black as jet, luxuriant, and of a silky texture, and were always
dressed in a manner that best suited her. Her figure was lofty and
beautifully proportioned. The expression of her face was decidedly
proud--too proud to be altogether agreeable. Nevertheless, she was
extremely admired.
Teresa possessed great good sense and good judgment, and was looked upon
by her guardian as a model of prudence and propriety. As he frequently
consulted her upon household matters, and, indeed, asked her advice upon
many other points, she naturally acquired considerable influence over
him.
A very charming girl was Mildred, though her style was quite different
from that of Teresa. She was a blonde. A ravishingly fair complexion,
a dimpled cheek, a lip fashioned like a Cupid's bow, teeth like
pearls--these constituted her attractions. Her figure was slight, but
perfectly symmetrical, and nothing could be sweeter than her smile.
Such were the two fair inmates of Ouselcroft, before a change took place
in the establishment.
Having proposed to his father's beautiful ward, as we have stated, and
been accepted, Chetwynd, who could not brook delay, was anxious that the
marriage should take place at once.
To this, however, the prudent Teresa objected. She was of a cold
temperament, and reflection convinced her that she had not done wisely
in accepting Chetwynd; but for several reasons she hesitated to break
off the engagement. She did not like to lose a comfortable home, and
hoped that the young man, who had hitherto been very careless and
extravagant, might turn over a new leaf.
In this expectation, she was disappointed. Chetwynd was very handsome
and agreeable, and had many good qualities, but his temper was
excessively irritable, and he was reckless in regard to expense. His
Oxford debts, which were heavy, had been paid by his father, and he
then promised amendment, but did not keep his word. On the contrary, he
continued his extravagant courses. Though intended for the law, he would
not study, but led a mere life of pleasure--riding daily in the parks,
and visiting all public places of amusement; and his father, who was a
great deal too indulgent, did not check him.
On his return to Ouselcroft, after an absence of a couple of months,
during which he had not deemed it necessary to write to Teresa, she
received him very coldly; and provoked by her manner, he told her next
day, when they were alone, that he did not think he should be happy with
her.
“If you really believe so, Chetwynd,” she said, “the marriage ought not
to take place. I release you from your engagement.”
The remarkable calmness--almost indifference--with which she spoke,
piqued him, and he exclaimed:
“Very well; I accept it! There is an end of all between us!”
Scarcely were the words uttered, than he repented, and would have
recalled them. He looked appealingly at her, but she seemed so cold,
that he became fortified in his resolution.
Mr. Calverley soon learnt what had happened from Mildred; but, feeling
sure he could set matters right, he sent for his son, and insisted on
his marrying Miss Mildmay, on pain of his severest displeasure.
Chetwynd refused point blank.
“You won't?” cried the old gentleman, ready to explode.
“I have already given you an answer, sir,” rejoined his son. “I adhere
to my determination! Pray don't put yourself in a passion. It won't have
any effect upon me!”
“Very well,” said Mr. Calverley, with difficulty controlling his rage.
“Since you decline to fulfil your engagement, I'll marry her myself!”
“Ridiculous!” cried his son.
“Ridiculous or not, you'll find I shall be as good as my word.”
“Pshaw! The young lady won't accept you.”
He was mistaken, however.
The young lady _did_ accept the old gentleman, and so readily that it
almost seemed she preferred him to his son. Within a month, they were
married.
Before the marriage Chetwynd went abroad, and did not keep up any
communication with his family. They ascertained, however, that he was at
Bellagio, on the Lake of Como.
Apparently, Mr. Calverley had no reason to regret the extraordinary
step he had taken. Teresa made him an excellent wife, and seemed quite
devoted to him. She studied him in everything--read the newspaper to him
of a morning, chatted agreeably to him when they drove out together in
the barouche, played and sang to him in the evening, and, in short,
kept him constantly amused. She managed his large establishment
perfectly--better than it had ever been managed before. She quarrelled
with none of his old friends--even though she might deem some of
them bores--but always appeared delighted to see them. Above all, she
continued on the most affectionate terms with Mildred, who had never
disapproved of the match. Nothing could be more judicious than her
conduct.
At first, everybody cried out Mr. Calverley was an “old fool;” but they
soon said he was a very sensible man, and exceedingly fortunate.
He was not, however, destined to enjoy a long term of happiness.
Hitherto, he had scarcely known a day's illness; but a few months after
his marriage his health began rapidly to decline.
Teresa tended him with the greatest solicitude.