Pure was her bosom, as the silver lake,
Ere rising winds the ruffled waters shake;
When the bright pageants of the morning sky
Across the expansive mirror lightly fly,
By vernal gales in quick succession driv'n,
While the clear glass reflects the smile of Heav'n.
HAYLEY.
"What a delightful girl Miss Wildenheim is!" exclaimed Selina Seymour,
as she sat at work in Mrs. Galton's dressing-room the day after she had
dined at Webberly House.--"I am sure we shall become intimate friends; I
never saw any body I admired half so much." Mrs. Galton coincided in
Selina's praise of her new favourite; for though she was not equally
prone to form "intimate friendships" at first sight, her penetration
had led her to conceive nearly as favourable an opinion of Miss
Wildenheim as Selina had expressed. Indeed, Mrs. Galton was particularly
desirous of improving her acquaintance with Mrs. Sullivan's interesting
ward; for though she was, in general, extremely suspicious of the
friendships girls so frequently contract and break with equal
precipitation, she was extremely anxious that Selina should meet with a
suitable companion of her own sex; and the refined elegance of Miss
Wildenheim's manners, the calmness of her deportment, and the good sense
which all her observations evinced, led Mrs. Galton to hope, that from
her society her beloved niece might derive as much advantage as
satisfaction. But at the same time, she recollected, that a degree of
mystery seemed to hang over Adelaide's situation; and, therefore, while
she gave a willing assent to Selina's encomiums, she cautiously withheld
her sanction to a sudden intimacy, until a longer acquaintance confirmed
or destroyed her present prepossession in Miss Wildenheim's favour.
Selina had never yet had any female associate, except Mrs. Galton; for
though Sir Henry's considerate attention to "poor Mrs. Martin," and her
inseparable companion Lucy, occasioned their being frequent visitors at
the Hall, yet they were so different in character, pursuits, and
situation from Miss Seymour, that no degree of intimacy could ever take
place between them. Selina had been so much disgusted by the young
ladies at Webberly House, on their first introduction, that she had
shrunk from all subsequent familiarity with them, nor did her aunt, in
this, endeavour to conquer her prejudices.
Mrs. Galton was aware, that such was the susceptibility of Selina's
heart, and the candour of her disposition, that if once she felt a
preference, her whole soul would be engrossed by the object of her
attachment, and that the strength of her regard could probably be more
easily anticipated than its duration: she was therefore particularly
cautious in permitting Selina to have any intercourse with those of
whose merits she did not feel well assured; believing that much of her
own future character, and consequent happiness, would depend on that of
her first guides and associates on her entrance into life. Hitherto, her
only companions and her only confidants had been Sir Henry, Mrs. Galton,
and Augustus Mordaunt. In them all her innocent affections were centred.
To them her whole mind was displayed; and so guiltless was she of even a
thought she could blush to own, that she scarcely imagined her
ingenuousness was a merit. Nor had the want of other companions in any
degree lessened the animation of her character; perhaps, on the
contrary, the very antidotes, to which Mrs. Galton had recourse to avoid
a premature gravity, had rather tended to increase that vivacity, which
bordered on levity, and was her most dangerous characteristic. Whenever
the lessons of her childhood had been concluded, she had always been
permitted, and even encouraged, to join in many of those games and
exercises, that are usually appropriated to the amusement of the other
sex. Often has she quitted an abstruse book, or a beautiful drawing, to
trundle her hoop, or run races with her playfellow Augustus. And when
other girls have trembled under the rod of the dancing master, she has
been gaining health and activity together, by vaulting over gates, that
more refined young ladies would, perhaps, have dreaded to climb. It is
true, that as she advanced towards womanhood, she was taught to attend
rather more to the decorums of life; and, instead of being permitted to
bound through the woods like the fawns she dislodged, or even (shocking
to relate) walk hand in hand with the old steward over half the park,
before girls of fashion would have broken their first slumbers; she now
changed her amusements, and accompanied Mrs. Galton in her charitable
errands to the poor, or, attended by Augustus and her groom, rode
through the delightful lanes in the neighbourhood. However, since his
departure from the Hall, her rides were confined within the park walls,
and scarcely a day passed, when the recollection of their rambles, in
which she so much delighted, did not serve to renew the expression of
her regrets at his absence. But even that circumstance failed to depress
her spirits. Perhaps, amongst all created beings, she at that moment was
almost the happiest. She knew no world beyond the little circle round
her own home, and in that circle she loved and was beloved. Every eye
beamed on hers with satisfaction, and every heart returned her affection
with redoubled fondness. She dreamed not of insincerity, and she knew
not what was grief, except indeed when she enjoyed the luxury of
sharing or alleviating that of others; which her frequent visits to the
neighbouring cottages sometimes presented to her view: and never did she
look so lovely as when she bent over the bed of sickness, or rocked the
cradle of infant suffering, while her eyes swam in tears, or sparkled
with the joy of successful benevolence.
Beauty, and grace, and innocence in her
In heavenly union shone: one who had held
The faith of elder Greece would sure have thought
She was some glorious nymph of seed divine,
Oread or Dryad, of Diana's train
The youngest and the loveliest--yea, she seem'd
Angel or soul beatified, from realms
Of bliss, on errand of parental love,
To earth re-sent; if tears and trembling limbs
With such celestial nature might consist.
Though Sir Henry Seymour was extremely hospitable, yet so retired was
the neighbourhood of Deane Hall, that the ladies at Webberly House and
the Parsonage were the only ones that Mrs. Galton visited, except Mrs.
Martin and Mrs. Lucas. But as autumn approached, the visits of the two
latter to the Hall became more frequent; for Sir Henry was fond of what
he called a social rubber of whist; and as his constant tormentor the
gout disabled him from using any exercise, beyond what his Bath chair
procured for him, his chief amusement was in the society of his country
friends, who were most happy to assemble round the good Baronet's fire
side, when a blazing faggot corrected the influence of a keen air, and
gave them a foretaste of the comforts of winter, before they were yet
introduced to any of its horrors.
Of these quiet parties Selina was merely a spectator: as, after she had
answered all Mrs. Martin's questions, with the same kindness they were
asked; provided Lucy with the daily newspaper, and the last new
magazine; placed her father's chair and arranged his foot-stool, (for
he thought no one could settle them as comfortably as his Selina); all
her duties of the evening were at an end. She could then amuse herself
unnoticed, with her pencil or her tambour frame, or have recourse to her
harpsichord: where, unambitious of praise, and unstimulated by vanity,
she would, for hours, "warble her wood notes wild."
Sometimes, indeed, Mr. and Mrs. Temple would join the party; and though
without even the acquisition of their society Selina was always
cheerful, yet when she enjoyed the rational conversation of the one, and
the lively good-nature of the other, she felt additional pleasure: for
both these excellent people looked on Selina almost as a child of their
own. Mr. Temple had watched with delight the gradual development of an
understanding, from whose matured powers he fondly anticipated every
good; though his anxious penetration led him sometimes to shudder for
her future character and fate, as he watched the susceptibility of her
heart,
"Which like the needle true,
Turn'd at the touch of joy or woe,
But turning--trembled too."
His amiable consort, however, notwithstanding all her deference to his
opinion, would scarcely acknowledge that the ray of celestial light,
which played round the opening blossom and gave it added brilliancy,
might, by prematurely expanding its charms, doom it to untimely decay.
And, sometimes, when the venerable pastor, with parental solicitude,
almost regretted that volatility, which to indifferent spectators but
gave a charm the more, Mrs. Temple, with that fearful prescience which
but belongs to a female heart, would stop the intended reproof, and say,
"Ah! James, do not check her innocent mirth; the day may come, when we
would give the world to see her smile." Meantime the lovely object of
their care would often, when at night she laid her guiltless head on her
pillow, as yet unwatered by a single tear, add to her pious thanksgiving
a wish that all the world was as happy, as she gratefully acknowledged
she was herself.
Little did this innocent child of nature imagine, that fate had already
marked the hour, when she was to bid farewell to the calm scenes of her
present happiness. Sir Henry never spoke, and could scarcely bear to
think, of the engagement between her and Mr. Elton, to which he had so
precipitately given his consent: and Mrs. Galton was equally averse to
mentioning the subject: of course, therefore, Selina remained totally
unconscious of it, and her time passed in the happy alternation of
leisure and employment, unmarked by accident, and unimpaired by sorrow.
Even the visit of Lord and Lady Eltondale was already almost forgotten
by her, or only occasionally occurred to her memory as a dream, whilst
even the fascination she had wondered at and admired by degrees faded
from her recollection.
One fine autumnal day, in the beginning of October, she had just
returned from one of her favourite rambles in the park, when she
abruptly entered the library, to show to Sir Henry an exhausted leveret,
that she had discovered panting in a thicket, and that she had brought
home in her arms: as she held it she partially covered it by her frock,
which she had caught up to keep it warm; without any recollection of the
consequent exposure of her beautiful ancle, which this derangement of
her drapery had occasioned. Her color was heightened by exercise, and
the wind had dishevelled her luxuriant brown hair, that strayed in
ringlets on her beaming cheek, whilst her straw hat, almost untied, had
slipped off her head, and hung behind, in contrast to the remaining
locks that a comb loosely fastened. Perhaps a painter or a sculptor
would have chosen that moment, to perpetuate the beautiful object, that,
as Selina opened the door, thus suddenly presented itself to the
delighted gaze of two gentlemen, who were then visiting Sir Henry: in
one Selina immediately recognised Mr. Webberly, and to the other she was
introduced as his friend, Mr. Sedley. At first Selina coloured, as she
momentarily recollected her dishabille, if such it might be called; but
in an instant, recovering herself, she apologized to her father for her
intrusion, and calmly obeyed his directions to seat herself beside him,
whilst she dismissed her trembling _protÈgÈe_ to be nursed below stairs.
Was it innate good sense, or was it incipient vanity, that saved this
young recluse from the torments of _mauvaise honte_, which so many
votaries of fashion feel or feign? Her colour was as variable as the
tints of a summer sky; but though it was often heightened, and
sometimes changed by quick susceptibility affecting it, it seldom
suffered from that illegitimate timidity, that owes its birth to an
inordinate anxiety to please. The language of compliment was foreign to
her ear, and she had yet to learn that finished coquetry, that wraps
itself in the veil of modesty, and flies to be pursued.
Mr. Webberly stated, the motive of his visit was not only to deliver an
invitation from his mother to a ball she purposed giving in a few weeks,
but also to add his earnest persuasions, that Sir Henry, Mrs. Galton,
and Miss Seymour would accept it. On this occasion the unpolished Selina
broke through all the rules of etiquette; and, totally unmindful of the
presence of strangers, at the mention of a ball jumped up, clapped her
hands, and springing almost as high as another Parisot, exclaimed, as
she threw her arms round Sir Henry's neck, "Pray dear, dear Papa, let me
go, I've heard so much of balls!" It may be supposed, the gentlemen
strenuously seconded her solicitations: their united entreaties having
obtained Sir Henry's consent, they at length withdrew, whilst Selina
reiterated her thanks and her joy with equal earnestness and _naÔvetÈ_.
"Well, Sedley, what do you think of Miss Seymour?" exclaimed Webberly,
as they rode leisurely home. "By Heavens! she is quite beautiful,"
returned his friend.--"She has the finest eyes and teeth I ever
beheld."--"And fine oaks too, or she'd never do for me," rejoined her
calculating admirer. A silence of some minutes ensued, which was at last
broken by Sedley's observing, that "he had never seen such a profusion
of silky hair." "For my part," resumed Webberly, "I like black hair much
better: Miss Wildenheim is a thousand times handsomer than Miss
Seymour!"
Mr. Sedley neither contradicted nor assented to this observation, but
with apparent _nonchalance_ turned the subject to that of shooting and
hunting; which promised amusements had been his inducement for visiting
Webberly House. The conversation was not again resumed, and they
returned scarcely in time to dress for dinner, which the anxious Mrs.
Sullivan declared would be quite "ruinated," assuring them, "the cook
was always arranged and discordant by them there long preambulations
a-horseback they were so fond of."