You will proceed in pleasure and in pride,
Beloved, and loving many; all is o'er
For me on earth, except some years to hide
My shame and sorrow deep in my heart's core.
_Don Juan_.
I paid little attention to the performance; for the moment I came to
the house, my eyes were rivetted on an object from which I found it
impossible to remove them. "It is," said I, "and yet it cannot be; and
yet why should it not?" A young lady sat in one of the boxes; she was
elegantly attired, and seemed to occupy the united attentions of many
Frenchmen, who eagerly caught her smiles.
"Either that is Eugenia," thought I, "or I have fallen asleep in the
ruins of St Jago, and am dreaming of her. That is Eugenia, or I am
not Frank. It is her, or it is her ghost." Still I had not that moral
certainty of the identity, as to enable me to go at once to her, and
address her. Indeed, had I been certain, all things considered, the
situation we were in would have rendered such a step highly improper.
"If that be Eugenia," thought I, again, "she has improved both in
manner and person. She has a becoming _embonpoint_, and an air _de bon
societé_ which, when we parted, she had not."
The more intensely I gazed, the more convinced was I that I was right;
the immovable devotion of my eyes attracted the attention of a French
officer, who sat near me.
"_C'est une jolie femme, n'est-ce pas, monsieur_?"
"_Vraiment_" said I. "Do you know her name?"
"_Elle s'appelle Madame de Rosenberg_."
"Then I am wrong, after all," said I to myself. "Has she a husband,
Sir?"
"_Pardonnez-moi, elle est veuve, mais elle a un petit garçon de cinq
ans, beau comme un ange_."
"That is her," said I again, reviving. "Is she a Frenchwoman?"
"_Du tout, Monsieur, elle est une de vos compatriottes; c'est un fort
joli exemplaire_."
She had only been three months at Bordeaux, and had refused many very
good offers in marriage. Such was the information I obtained from my
obliging neighbour; and I was now convinced that Madame de Rosenberg
could be no other than Eugenia. Every endeavour to catch her eye
proved abortive. My only hope was to follow the carriage.
When the play was over, I waited with an impatience like that of a
spirited hunter who hears the hounds. At last, the infernal squalling
of the vocalists ceased, but not before I had devoutly wished that
all the wax candles in the house were down their throats and burning
there. I saw one of the gentlemen in the box placing the shawl over
her shoulders, with the most careful attention, while the bystanders
seemed ready to tear him in pieces, from envy. I hurried to the door,
and saw her handed into her carriage, which drove off at a great pace.
I ran after it, jumped up behind, and took my station by the side of
the footman.
"_Descendez donc, Monsieur_," said the man.
"I'll be d----d if I do," said I.
"_Comment donc_?" said the man.
"_Tais-toi bête_" said I, "_ou je te brulerai la cervelle_."
"_Vous f----e_," said the man, who behaved very well, and instantly
began to remove me, _vi et armis_; but I planted a stomacher in his
fifth button, which I knew would put him _hors de combat_ for a few
minutes, and by that time, at the rate the carriage was driving, my
purpose would have been answered. The fellow lost his breath--could
not hold on or speak--so tumbled off and lay in the middle of the
road.
As he fell on dry ground and was not an English sailor, I did not jump
after him, but left him to his own ease, and we saw no more of him,
for we were going ten knots, while he lay becalmed without a breath of
wind. This was one of the most successful acts of usurpation recorded
in modern history. It has its parallels, I know; but I cannot now stop
to comment on them, or on my own folly and precipitation. I was as
firmly fixed behind the carriage, as Bonaparte was on the throne of
France after the battle of Eylau.
We stopped at a large _porte cochère_, being the entrance to a very
grand house, with lamps at the door, within a spacious court yard;
we drove in and drew up. I was down in a moment, opened the carriage
door, and let down the steps. The lady descended, laid her hand on my
arm without perceiving that she had changed her footman, and tripped
lightly up the stairs. I followed her into a handsome saloon, where
another servant in livery had placed lights on the table. She turned
round, saw me, and fainted in my arms.
It was, indeed, Eugenia, herself; and with all due respect to my
dear Emily, I borrowed a thousand kisses while she lay in a state of
torpor, in a fauteuil to which I carried her. It was some few minutes
before she opened her eyes; the man-servant, who had brought the
lights, very properly never quitted the room, but was perfectly
respectful in his manner, rightly conceiving that I had some authority
for my proceedings.
"My dearest Frank," said Eugenia, "what an unexpected meeting! What,
in the name of fortune, could have brought you here?"
"That," said I, "is a story too long, Eugenia, for a moment so
interesting as this. I also might ask you the same question; but it is
now one o'clock in the morning, and, therefore, too late to begin with
inquiry. This one question, however, I must ask--are you a mother?"
"I am," said Eugenia, "of the most lovely boy that ever blessed the
eyes of a parent; he is now in perfect health and fast asleep--come
to-morrow, at ten o'clock, and you shall see him."
"To-morrow," said I, with surprise, "to-morrow, Eugenia? why am I to
quit your house?"
"That also you shall know, to-morrow," said she; "but now you must do
as you are desired. To-morrow, I will be at home to no one but you."
Knowing Eugenia as I did, it was sufficient that she had decided.
There was no appeal; so, kissing her again, I wished her a good night,
quitted her, and retired to my hotel. What a night of tumult did I
pass! I was tossed from Emily to Eugenia, like a shuttlecock between
two battledores. The latter never looked so lovely; and to the natural
loveliness of her person, was added a grace and a polish, which gave
a lustre to her charms, which almost served Emily as I had served the
footman. I never once closed my eyes during the night--dressed early
the next morning, walked about, looked at Château Trompette and the
Roman ruins--thought the hour of ten would never strike, and when it
did, I struck the same moment at her door.
The man who opened it to me was the same whom I had treated so ill the
night before; the moment he saw me, he put himself into an attitude at
once of attack, defence, remonstrance, and revenge, all connected with
the affair of the preceding evening.
"_Ah, ah, vous voilà donc! ce n'étoit pas bienfait, Monsieur_."
"_Oui_," said I, "_très nettement fait, et voilà encore_," slipping a
Napoleon into his hand.
"_Ca s'arrange très-joliment, Monsieur_," said the man, grinning from
ear to ear, and bowing to the ground.
"_C'est Madame, que vous voulez donc_?"
"_Oui_," said I.
He led, I followed; he opened the door of a breakfast
parlour--"_tenez, Madame, voici le Monsieur que m'a renversé hier au
soi_."
Eugenia was seated on a sofa, with her boy by her side, the loveliest
little fellow I had ever beheld. His face was one often described,
but rarely seen; it was shaded with dark curling ringlets, his mouth,
eyes, and complexion had much of his mother, and, vanity whispered me,
much more of myself. I took a seat on the sofa, and with the boy on my
knee, and Eugenia by my side, held her hand, while she narrated the
events of her life since the time of our separation.
"A few days," said she, "after your departure for the Flushing
expedition, I read in the public prints, that 'if the nearest relation
of my mother would call at ----, in London, they would hear of
something to their advantage.' I wrote to the agent, from whom I
learned, after proving my identity, that the two sisters of my mother,
who, you may remember, had like sums left them by the will of their
relative, had continued to live in a state of single blessedness;
that, about four years previous, one of them had died, leaving every
thing to the other, and that the other had died only two months
before, bequeathing all her property to my mother, or her next heir;
or, in default of that, to some distant relation. I, therefore,
immediately came into a fortune of ten thousand pounds, with interest;
and I was further informed that a great-uncle of mine was still
living, without heirs, and was most anxious that my mother or her
heirs should be discovered. An invitation was therefore sent to me to
go down to him, and to make his house my future residence.
"At that time, the effects of my indiscretion were but too apparent,
and rendered, as I thought, deception justifiable. I put on widow's
weeds, and gave out that my husband was a young officer, who had
fallen a victim to the fatal Walcheren fever; that our marriage had
been clandestine, and unknown to any of his friends: such was my story
and appearance before the agent, who believed me. The same fabrication
was put upon my grand-uncle, with equal success. I was received into
his house with parental affection; and in that house I gave birth to
the dear child you now hold in your arms--to your child, my Frank--to
the only child I shall ever have. Yes, dear Eugenio," continued she,
pressing her rosy lips on the broad white neck of the child, "you
shall be my only care, my solace, my comfort, and my joy. Heaven,
in its mercy, sent the cherub to console its wretched mother in the
double pangs of guilt and separation from all she loved; and Heaven
shall be repaid, by my return to its slighted, its insulted laws. I
feel that my sin is forgiven; for I have besought forgiveness night
and day, with bitter tears, and Heaven has heard my prayer. 'Go, and
sin no more,' was said to me; and upon these terms I have received
forgiveness.
"You will no doubt ask, why did I not let you know all this? and why I
so carefully secreted myself from you? My reasons were founded on the
known impetuosity of your character. You, my beloved, who could brave
death, and all the military consequences of desertion from a ship
lying at Spithead, were not likely to listen to the suggestions of
prudence when Eugenia was to be found; and, having once given out that
I was a widow, I resolved to preserve the consistency of my character
for my own sake--for your sake, and for the sake of this blessed
child, the only drop that has sweetened my cup of affliction. Had you
by any means discovered my place of abode, the peace of my uncle's
house, and the prospects of my child had been for ever blasted.
"Now then say, Frank, have I, or have I not, acted the part of a Roman
mother? My grand-uncle having declared his intention of making me heir
to his property, for his sake, and yours, and for my child, I have
preserved the strict line of duty, from which God, in his infinite
mercy, grant that I may never depart.
"I first resolved upon not seeing you until I could be more my own
mistress; and when, at the death of my respected relative, I was not
only released from any restraint on account of his feelings, but
also became still more independent in my circumstances, you might
be surprised that I did not immediately impart to you the change of
fortune which would have enabled us to have enjoyed the comfort of
unrestricted communication. But time, reflection, the conversation and
society of my uncle and his select friends, the care of my infant, and
the reading of many excellent books had wrought a great change in my
sentiments. Having once tasted the pleasures of society among virtuous
women, I vowed to Heaven that no future act of mine should ever drive
me from it. The past could not be recalled; but the future was my own.
"I took the sacrament after a long and serious course of reading;
and, having made my vows at the altar, with the help of God, they are
unchangeable. Dramatic works, the pernicious study and poison of my
youthful ardent mind, I have long since discarded; and I had resolved
never to see you again, until after your marriage with Miss Somerville
had been solemnised. Start not! By the simplest and easiest means
I have known all your movements--your dangers, your escapes, your
undaunted acts of bravery and self-devotion for the sake of others.
"'Shall I then,' said I to myself, 'blast the prospects of the man
I love--the father of my boy? Shall I, to gratify the poor, pitiful
ambition of becoming the wife of him, to whom I once was the mistress,
sacrifice thus the hopes and fortune of himself and family, the reward
of a virtuous maiden?' In all this I hope you will perceive a proper
share of self-denial. Many, many floods of bitter tears of repentance
and regret have I shed over my past conduct; and I trust, that what
I have suffered and what I shall suffer, will be received as my
atonement at the Throne of Grace. True, I once looked forward to the
happy period of our union, when I might have offered myself to you,
not as a portionless bride; but I was checked by one maddening,
burning, inextingishable thought. I could not be received into that
society to which you were entitled. I felt that I loved you, Frank;
loved you too well to betray you. The woman that had so little respect
for herself, was unfit to be the wife of Francis Mildmay.
"Besides, how could I do my sweet boy the injustice to allow him to
have brothers and sisters possessing legitimate advantages over him?
I felt that our union never could be one of happiness, even if you
consented to take me as your wife, of which I had my doubts; and when
I discovered, through my emissaries, that you were on the point of
marriage with Miss Somerville, I felt that it was all for the best;
that I had no right to complain; the more so as it was I who (I blush
to say it) had seduced you.
"But, Frank, if I cannot be your wife--and alas! I know too well that
that is impossible--will you allow me to be your friend, your dear
friend, as the mother of your child, or, if you please, as your
sister? But there the sacred line is drawn; it is a compact between
my God and myself. You know my firmness and decision; once maturely
deliberated, my resolution formed, it is not, I think, in man to turn
me. Do not, therefore, make the attempt; it will only end in your
certain defeat and shame, and in my withdrawing from your sight for
ever. You will not, I am sure, pay me so bad a compliment as to wish
me to renew the follies of my youth. If you love me, respect me;
promise, by the love you bear to Miss Somerville, and your affection
for this poor boy, that you will do as I wish you. Your honour and
peace of mind, as well as mine, demand it."
This severe rebuke, from a quarter, whence I least expected it, threw
me back with shame and confusion. As if a mirror had been held up
to me, I saw my own deformity. I saw that Eugenia was not only the
guardian of her own honour, but of mine, and of the happiness of Miss
Somerville, against whom I now stood convicted of foul deceit and
shameful wrong. I acknowledged my fault, I assured Eugenia that I was
bound to her, by every tie of honour, esteem, and love; and that her
boy and mine should be our mutual care.
"Thank you, dearest," said she: "you have taken a heavy load from my
mind: henceforth remember we are brother and sister. I shall now be
able to enjoy the pleasure of your society; and now, as that point is
settled, let me know what has occurred to you since we parted--the
particulars I mean, for the outline I have had before."
I related to her everything which had happened to me, from the hour of
our separation to the moment I saw her so unexpectedly in the theatre.
She was alternately affected with terror, surprise, and laughter. She
took a hearty crying spell over the motionless bodies of Clara and
Emily, as they lay on the floor; but recovered from that, and went
into hysterics of laughter, when I described the footman's mistake,
and the slap on the face bestowed on him by the housemaid.
My mind was not naturally corrupt. It was only so at times, and from
peculiar circumstances; but I was always generous, and easily recalled
to a sense of my duty, when reminded of my fault. Not for an empire
would I have persuaded Eugenia to break her vow. I loved and respected
the mother of my child; the more when I reflected that she had been
the means of preserving my fidelity to Emily. I rejoiced to think
that my friendship for the one, and love for the other, were not
incompatible. I wrote immediately to Emily, announcing my speedy
return to England.
"Having the most perfect reliance on your honour, I shall now," said
Eugenia, "accept of your escort to London, where my presence is
required. Pierre shall accompany us--he is a faithful creature, though
you used him so ill."
"That," said I, "is all made up, and Pierre will be heartily glad of
another tumble for the same price."
All our arrangements were speedily made. The house was given up--a
roomy travelling barouche received all our trunks; and, seated by the
side of Eugenia, with the child between us, we crossed the Gironde,
and took our way through Poictiers, Tours, and Orleans, to Paris; here
we remained but a short time. Neither of us were pleased with the
manners and habits of the French; but as they have been so fully
described by the swarms of English travellers who have infested
that country with their presence, and this with the fruits of their
labours, I shall pass as quietly through France, as I hope to do
through the Thames Tunnel, when it is completed, but not before.
Eugenia consulted me as to her future residence; and here I own
I committed a great error, but, I declare to Heaven, without any
criminal intention. I ventured to suggest that she should live in a
very pretty village a few miles from ---- Hall, the residence of Mr
Somerville, and where, after my marriage, it was intended that I
should continue to reside with Emily. To this village, then, I
directed her to go, assuring her that I should often ride over and
visit her.
"Much as I should enjoy your company, Frank," said Eugenia, "this is
a measure fraught with evil to all parties; nor is it fair dealing
towards your future wife."
Unhappily for me, that turn for duplicity, which I had imbibed in
early life, had not forsaken me, notwithstanding the warnings I had
received, and the promises of amendment which I had made. Flattering
myself that I intended no harm, I overruled all the scruples of
the excellent Eugenia. She despatched a confidential person to the
village; on the outskirts of which, he procured for her a commodious,
and even elegant cottage ornée ready furnished. She went down with her
child and Pierre to take possession; and I to my father's house, where
my appearance was hailed as a signal for a grand jubilee.
Clara I found had entirely changed her unfavourable opinion of sea
officers, induced thereto by the engaging manners of my friend Talbot,
on whom I was delighted to learn she was about to bestow her very
pretty little white hand at the altar. This was a great triumph to the
navy, for I always told Clara, laughingly, that I never would forgive
her if she quitted the service; and as I entertained the highest
respect for Talbot, I considered the prospects of my sister were very
bright and flattering, and that she had made a choice very likely to
secure her happiness. "Rule Britannia," said I to Clara; "Blue for
ever!"
The next morning I started for Mr Somerville's, where I was of course
received with open arms; and the party, a few days after, having been
increased by the arrival of my father with Clara and Talbot, I was as
happy as a human being could be. Six weeks was the period assigned by
my fair one as the very shortest in which she could get rigged, bend
new sails, and prepare for the long and sometimes tedious voyage of
matrimony. I remonstrated at the unconscionable delay.
"Long as it may appear," she said, "it is much less time than you took
to fit out your fine frigate for North America."
"That frigate was not got ready even then by any hurry of mine," said
I; "and if ever I come to be first lord of the Admiralty, I shall
have a bright eye on the young lieutenants and their sweethearts
at Blackheath, particularly when a ship is fitting in a hurry at
Woolwich."
Much of this kind of sparring went on, to the great amusement of all
parties; meanwhile, the ladies employed themselves in running up
milliner's bills, and their papas employed themselves in discharging
them. My father was particularly liberal to Emily in the articles of
plate and jewellery, and Mr Somerville equally kind to Clara. Emily
received a trinket box, so beautifully fitted and so well filled, that
it required a cheque of no trifling magnitude to cry quits with the
jeweller; indeed my father's kindness was so great, that I was forced
to beg he would set some bounds to his liberality.
I was so busy and so happy, that I had let three weeks pass over my
head without seeing Eugenia. I dreamed of her at last, and thought she
upbraided me; and the next day, full of my dream, as soon as breakfast
was over, I recommended the young ladies to the care of Talbot, and,
mounting my horse, rode over to see Eugenia. She received me kindly,
but she had suffered in her health, and was much out of spirits. I
inquired the reason, and she burst into tears. "I shall be better,
Frank," said she, "when all is over, but I must suffer now; and I
suffer the more acutely from a conviction that I am only paying
the penalty of my own crime. Perhaps," continued she, "had I never
departed from virtue, I might at this moment have held in your heart
the envied place of Miss Somerville; but as the righteous decrees of
Providence having provided punishment to tread fast in the footsteps
of guilt, I am now expiating my faults, and I have a presentiment that
although the struggle is bitter, it will soon be over. God's will be
done; and may you, my dear Frank, have many, many happy years in the
society of one you are bound to love before the unhappy Eugenia."
Here she sank on a sofa, and again wept bitterly.
"I feel," said she, "now, but it is too late--I feel that I have acted
wrongly in quitting Bordeaux. There I was loved and respected; and
if not happy, at least I was composed. Too much dependence on my
resolution, and the vanity of supposing myself superior in magnanimity
to the rest of my sex, induced me to trust myself in your society.
Dearly, alas! have I paid for it. My only chance of victory over
myself was flight from you, after I had given the irrevocable
sentence; by not doing so, the poison has again found its way to my
heart. I feel that I love you; that I cannot have you; and that death,
very shortly, must terminate my intolerable sufferings."
This affecting address pierced me to the soul; and now the
consequences of my guilt and duplicity rushed upon me like a torrent
through a bursting flood-gate. I would have resigned Emily, I would
have fled with Eugenia to some distant country, and buried our sorrows
in each other's bosoms; and, in a state of irrepressible emotion, I
proposed this step to her.
"What do I hear, my beloved?" said she (starting up with horror from
the couch on which she was sitting, with her face between her knees),
"what! is it you that would resign home, friends, character, the
possession of a virtuous woman, all, for the polluted smiles of an ----"
"Hold! hold! my Eugenia," said I; "do not, I beseech you, shock my
ears with an epithet which you do not deserve! Mine, mine, is all the
guilt; forget me, and you will still be happy."
She looked at me, then at her sweet boy, who was playing on the
carpet--but she made no answer; and then a flood of tears succeeded.
It was, indeed, a case of singular calamity for a beautiful young
creature to be placed in. She was only in her three-and-twentieth
year--and, lovely as she was, nature had scarcely had time to finish
the picture. The regrets which subdued my mind on that fatal morning
may only be conceived by those who, like me, have led a licentious
life--have, for a time, buried all moral and religious feeling, and
have been suddenly called to a full sense of their guilt, and the
misery they have entailed on the innocent. I sat down and groaned. I
cannot say I wept, for I could not weep; but my forehead burned, and
my heart was full of bitterness.
While I thus meditated, Eugenia sat with her hand on her forehead, in
a musing attitude. Had she been reverting to her former studies, and
thrown herself into the finest conceivable posture of the tragic muse,
her appearance would not have been half so beautiful and affecting.
I thought she was praying, and I think so still. The tears ran in
silence down her face; I kissed them off, and almost forgot Emily.
"I am better now, Frank," said the poor, sorrowful woman; "do not come
again until after the wedding. When will it take place?" she inquired,
with a trembling and a faltering voice.
My heart almost burst within me, as I told her, for I felt as if I
was signing a warrant for her execution. I took her in my arms, and,
tenderly embracing her, endeavoured to divert her thoughts from the
mournful fate that too evidently hung over her; she became tranquil,
and I proposed taking a stroll in the adjoining park. I thought the
fresh air would revive her.
She agreed to this; and, going to her room, returned in a few minutes.
To her natural beauty was added on that fatal day a morning dress,
which more than any other became her; it was white, richly trimmed,
and fashionably made up by a celebrated French milliner. Her bonnet
was white muslin, trimmed with light blue ribbons, and a sash of the
same colour confined her slender waist. The little Eugenio ran before
us, now at my side, and now at his mother's. We rambled about for some
time, the burthen of our conversation being the future plans and mode
of education to be adopted for the child; this was a subject on which
she always dwelt with peculiar pleasure.
Tired with our walk, we sat down under a clump of beech trees, near
a grassy ascent, winding among the thick foliage, contrived by the
opulent owner to extend and diversify the rides in his noble domain.
Eugenio was playing around us, picking the wild flowers, and running
up to me to inquire their names.
The boy was close by my side, when, startled at a noise, he turned
round and exclaimed--
"Oh! look, mamma, look, papa, there is a lady and a gentleman
a-riding."
I turned round, and saw Mr Somerville and Emily on horseback, within
six paces of me; so still they stood, so mute, I could have fancied
Emily a wax-work figure. They neither breathed nor moved; even their
very horses seemed to be of bronze, or, perhaps the unfortunate
situation in which I found myself made me think them so. They had come
as unexpectedly on us as we had discovered them. The soft turf had
received the impression of their horses' feet, and returned no sound;
and if they snorted, we had either not attended to them in the warmth
of our conversation, or we had never heard them.
I rose up hastily--coloured deeply--stammered, and was about to speak.
Perhaps it was better that I did not; but I had no opportunity. Like
apparitions they came, and like apparitions they vanished. The avenue
from whence they had so silently issued, received them again, and they
were gone before Eugenia was sensible of their presence.