Ah! gentle pair, ye little think, how nigh
Your change approaches, when all these delights
Will vanish, and deliver ye to wo,
More wo, the more your taste is now of joy!
PARADISE LOST.
The next morning, notwithstanding its being Sunday, was fixed for the
departure of the Eltondales for Cheltenham; as, in addition to Lady
Eltondale's dread of passing a Sunday evening at the Hall, the hallowed
day was one usually set apart by her and her obedient lord for
travelling.
The whole of Sir Henry's household, unused to such an appropriation of
the Sabbath, was thrown into disorder. The arrival of the post horses;
the bustle and importance of the servants who were departing, with the
confusion of those who were to remain; the enumeration of the packages
by Madame La Fayette, who was, if possible, a finer lady than her
mistress; and the awkward, and perhaps not quite unintentional, mistakes
of her aides-de-camp the house-maids, in their arrangement, presented
altogether a scene of clamour that totally dismayed poor quiet Sir
Henry: and even Mrs. Galton could scarcely refrain from expressing a
part of her discomposure, at perceiving the slow progress, that was
actually making in the work of preparation, would effectually prevent
either the domestics or themselves joining their worthy pastor in his
public worship. At last Lady Eltondale appeared, to partake of what she
called the early breakfast; and before this affair, always so important
to the Viscount, was concluded, the different forms of farewell had been
gone through, and the last part of the train had fairly moved from the
door, the greatest portion of the morning was elapsed. Selina stood at
the library window, watching the rapid motion of the carriages, and the
spirited action of the postilions; as, cracking their whips over the
horses' heads, they turned out of the long avenue, and disappeared down
the hill. She listened for some time, involuntarily wishing to hear
again the sound of the carriage wheels; then turning suddenly round, and
casting her eye hastily over the dark damask hangings and massy
furniture of the room, wondered why she had never before seen it look so
gloomy as it now appeared. Mrs. Galton, who had silently marked the
changes of that countenance, which so eloquently depicted every passing
idea, now abruptly asked her, what she had been thinking of. Selina
started and colored. But, as yet, she had never been conscious of a
thought she would not wish to own; and, with her usual ingenuousness,
replied--"I wonder, Aunt, what sort of place Cheltenham is? How I
should like to go there!"--"I dare say, Lady Eltondale would gladly have
taken you there, Selina," replied Mrs. Galton, with a look of sadness,
blended with anxiety.--"But you don't think, surely, I should like to
leave you and Papa behind?--no; if you, and Papa, and Augustus, would
all come with me, I should be delighted to go! but not else." So saying,
she threw her polished arms round Mrs. Galton's neck, and kissing her
cheek with an effusion of affection, gave a gratifying and unequivocal
proof of the sincerity of her assertion.
Meantime, Sir Henry had strolled out, leaning on the arm of Augustus: at
last, after a silence unusually prolonged, the Baronet exclaimed, "Good
Lord! bless my heart, who would have thought, this day se'ennight, that
Bell and Lord Eltondale would have been come and gone again by this
time?"--"She must have been very beautiful," returned Mordaunt. "Aye,
she was once very handsome indeed," replied Sir Henry.--"Bless my
heart, how time passes on! I remember the winter she was presented at
Court, how much she was admired! and good Lord! how things come about:
every body said she was to have been married to your uncle, Lord
Osselstone, though, I believe, there was never any truth in the report.
That was the very year you were born, Augustus, two-and-twenty years
ago, last Michaelmas. I have never been in London since; and, please
God, never shall!" Augustus had attended more to his own thoughts, than
to Sir Henry's observations; and would perhaps have continued his
reverie, had not the old man's silence had the effect of rousing him,
which his conversation had not. "I think," said he, at last, "Selina is
very like her aunt: her eyes, to be sure, sparkle more, and her
countenance is more animated, but her figure is nearly the same, if she
were but a very little taller."--"Aye," returned Sir Henry, with a
sigh, "Selina will grow a great deal yet, I dare say.--Well, to be sure,
who would have thought it? Bless my heart, she was but a child the other
day: and then," he added, after a few moment's pause, "I wonder what
sort of a chap that Frederick Elton is? I wonder will he like to play
backgammon with me of an evening, as Selina does? Poor girl! he mustn't
think of taking her to London, it would be the death of me, God help
me!"
"Frederick Elton!" rejoined Augustus, "Good God, sir! what do you mean?"
"Aye, Augustus, I thought you would be surprised. Bless my heart! why, I
never should have thought of it myself. Do you know, Bell and Lord
Eltondale came all this way out of their road to ask my consent to
Selina's marrying his son Frederick Elton? It was very kind of them to
think of it, to be sure; but I had rather they hadn't troubled
themselves." "Well, sir, well surely, Sir Henry, you didn't give it?"
"Bless my heart! well, to be sure, what makes you stare so?--to be sure
I gave it. What had I to say against the young man? and Bell told me he
would always like to live here." "And Selina, Miss Seymour, has given
her consent too?" "Oh, poor child! she knows nothing about it yet;--I
haven't told her a word of it.--But what makes you shiver so? Are you
cold? Why, Augustus, boy, you look as pale as ashes! Good Lord!--Bless
my heart, what's the matter with you?" "Nothing, sir, I've only a
confounded head-ache, which a ride will cure." So saying, he turned
abruptly from Sir Henry, who had by this time reached the hall door, and
resumed his knotty cane. "Good Lord! well to be sure, he's not half so
happy about it as I expected he would have been. I wonder what Mrs.
Galton will say." And the doubt of the possibility of her not approving
the plan, as he knew she was not partial to Lady Eltondale's plans in
general, made him at first hesitate about informing her. But the habit
he had acquired of consulting her on all occasions, and a certain
restless anxiety, which persons of weak minds always feel to have their
opinions or actions sanctioned by others, at last preponderated; and he
retired to his study, after sending to request to speak to Mrs. Galton,
fortifying himself, previous to her appearance, with as many of Lady
Eltondale's arguments as he could recal to his disturbed memory.
Mrs. Galton was not as entirely unprepared for the communication as poor
Augustus had been. She knew enough of Lady Eltondale's character to
surmise, that her sudden re-appearance at Deane Hall could neither have
been unpremeditated or without design; and, from some hints which Lady
Eltondale had casually dropped in the course of conversation, her
penetration had led her to form some tolerably accurate surmises on the
subject. When, therefore, she entered the study, she was more grieved
than surprised at the looks of painful emotion, with which Sir Henry
received her. The poor old man, embarrassed with his own thoughts, began
with more circumlocution than explicitness, to relate the circumstances,
and ended a most perplexed speech by abruptly informing Mrs. Galton of
the proposal. "It is as I expected," calmly replied she. "Aye! aye!"
exclaimed the delighted Baronet, "I knew if any one would guess it you
would.--I should never have thought of it myself." "But have you given
your consent, Sir Henry?" "Given my consent--Good Lord! what do you
mean! Well to be sure, all the world's run mad to-day, I think! Why,
bless my heart! didn't you say it was what you expected?" "I could not
expect; my dear sir, that you would give your consent to any proposal on
which the future happiness of Selina's whole life depends, without
deliberation, and a proper understanding and consideration of her
feelings on the subject." "But, good Lord! I tell you again I _have_
given my consent." "Not irrevocably, I hope, Sir Henry; you know nothing
of Mr. Elton's character, taste, or disposition; you know nothing.--"
"God forgive me for being in a passion," interrupted Sir Henry, "but the
perverseness of women is enough to provoke a saint, which, the Lord help
me, I'm not.--But you know, Mrs. Galton," continued he, in a more
moderate tone, "you know Frederick Elton is a connection of our
own;--and as for our not being acquainted with him--don't you remember
he came here from school one Easter holidays, and gave Selina the
measles by the same token, poor child!" "Forgive me, Sir Henry," calmly
replied Mrs. Galton, "but I do not think that is knowing him well enough
to decide on his title to Selina's esteem; and, believe me, that dear
girl will never be happy unless she marries a man she not only esteems
but loves." "Well, and didn't Lady Eltondale tell me Selina would
certainly love Frederick Elton? She says he is twice as handsome as
Augustus Mordaunt; which, good Lord! is unnecessary, for Augustus, poor
boy, is as fine a young man as ever I saw in my life." "Aye, poor
Augustus!" sorrowfully exclaimed Mrs. Galton, "he would indeed have been
happy with Selina, and God knows, he is the character that of all others
would best have suited her." "Augustus Mordaunt, Mrs. Galton! Well to be
sure! Good Lord! who would have thought of that! However, poor boy,
though I don't give him Selina, I'll take care to give him something
else--he shall never be dependent on that old uncle of his."
Mrs. Galton saw it was in vain to contend at that moment with the
Baronet, who was fully convinced that his promise was irrevocable, and
that after all it was the best thing he could do, for Bell had told him
so. All that Mrs. Galton could procure was a promise no less positive,
that he would not give Selina the most distant hint of the project, by
which she hoped not only to prolong her present days of peace, but also
faintly flattered herself, that something might occur to prevent their
union, between then and the time of Mr. Elton's return from abroad.
In the mean time Augustus prosecuted his useless ride--
"Il va monter en cheval pour bannir son ennui,
Le chagrin monte en croupe et galoppe aprËs lui."
Finding solitary reflection rather increased than cured his malady, he
at last determined to open his heart, to his reverend friend, Mr.
Temple; and, alighting at the parsonage, sent his servant back to the
hall, to say he should not return to dinner--an intimation which
considerably increased the gloom which pervaded the countenance of each
individual of the trio, that was seated in silence round the
dinner-table. Sir Henry and Mrs. Galton were each occupied by their own
reflections; and Selina felt depressed, not only by the unusual absence
of Augustus, but also from the effects of that vacuum, which the
departure of guests, however few in number, always makes in a country
house. After dinner she strolled listlessly from one room to another;
took up and laid down, alternately, all the books that lay on the
library table; sauntered to the harpsichord, and played parts of several
anthems, without finishing any, and stopping every five minutes, in the
vain belief that she heard the trampling of Mordaunt's horse. At last,
at an hour long before her usual bed-time, she retired to her room,
wondering what could keep him so late, and thinking she had never spent
so long, so tiresome an evening; whilst she involuntarily contrasted it
with the hours winged on swiftest pinions, which the fascinations of
Lady Eltondale's manners had so delightfully beguiled the night before.