Mr and Mrs Davenant especially prided themselves on their worldly
wisdom and on their strong good sense--excellent qualities undoubtedly,
but susceptible of being carried to an injurious excess. If it be
true that in our faults lie the germ of virtues, no less true is it
that almost every virtue is capable of being exaggerated into vice.
Thus was it with the Davenants: in their code everything was made
subservient to _worldly wisdom_: all their own and their friends'
actions were measured by that standard; consequently every generous
aspiration was checked, every noble, self-denying action decried, if
it could not be reconciled to their ideas of wisdom. In course of time
Mr and Mrs Davenant grew cold-hearted, calculating, and selfish; and
as their fortunes flourished, more and more did they exult in their
own wisdom, and condemn as foolish and Quixotic everything charitable
and disinterested. To the best of their power they brought up their
children in the same principles, and they succeeded to admiration with
their eldest daughter, who was as shrewd and prudent as they could
wish. Mrs Davenant would often express her maternal delight in her
Selina: there never was a girl possessing such strong good sense--such
wisdom. Some people might have thought that in Miss Selina's wisdom
the line was somewhat faint that divided it from mere cunning; but
mothers are rarely very quick-sighted with regard to their children's
faults, and Mrs Davenant never saw the difference.
With their other daughter they were not so successful. When Lucy
Davenant was but five years old, a relation of her mother's, a maiden
lady residing in Wales, had, at her own earnest request, adopted
the younger daughter. Miss Moore was very rich, and her fortune was
entirely at her own disposal, so Mr and Mrs Davenant at once acceded to
her request, never doubting that she would make Lucy her heiress. Lucy
remained with Miss Moore till that lady died; but although she left her
nothing in her will but a few comparatively valueless mementos, she
owed more to her care and teaching than thousands could repay. Under
the influence of her precepts, and the admirable example she afforded,
Lucy became generous, unselfish, open-hearted, and truthful as the day.
But her parents, unhappily, were blind to these virtues, or rather they
deemed that, in possessing them, their child was rather unfortunate
than otherwise. Lucy was utterly astonished when she came home from
Wales after her kind friend's death, at the strange manner and stranger
conversation of her parents and her sister. Her father had accompanied
her from Pembrokeshire, and he had scarcely spoken a word to her during
the whole of the journey; but, in the innocence of her heart, she
attributed this to his grief at the loss of his relation. But when she
arrived at her father's house in the city of B----, where he was the
principal banker, she could not avoid perceiving the cause. Her mother
embraced her, but did not pause to gaze on her five-years-absent child;
and as she turned to her sister Selina, she heard her father say, 'Lucy
hasn't a farthing in the will.'
'You don't mean it?' cried Mrs Davenant. 'Why, how in the world, child,
have you managed?' turning to Lucy. 'Did you offend Miss Moore in
anyway before she died?'
'Oh no, mamma,' murmured Lucy, weeping at the thought of her aunt's
illness and death thus rudely conjured up.
'Then what is the reason?' began her mother again; but Mr Davenant
raised a warning finger, and checked her eager inquiries. He saw that
Lucy had no spirit at present to reply to their questions, so he
suffered the grieved girl to retire to rest, accompanied by her sister;
but with Selina, Lucy was more bewildered than ever.
'My dear Lu,' said that young lady, as she brushed her hair, 'what is
the meaning of this mysterious will? We all thought you would be Miss
Moore's heiress.'
'So I should have been,' sobbed Lucy; 'but'----
'But what? Don't cry so, Lucy: what's past can never be recalled,' said
Selina oracularly; 'and as you're not an heiress'----
'Oh, don't think I am vexed about _that_,' said Lucy, indignant at the
idea, and drying her eyes with a determination to weep no more. 'I have
no wish to be an heiress: I am very glad, indeed, I am not; and I would
rather, much rather, not be enriched by the death of any one I love.'
'Very romantic sentiments, my dear Lu, but strangely wanting in common
sense. All those high-flown ideas were vastly interesting and becoming,
I daresay, among your wild Welsh mountains; but when you come into
the busy world again, it is necessary to cast aside all sentiment and
romance, as you would your old garden-bonnet. But, seriously, tell me
about this will: how did you miss your good-fortune?'
'Miss Moore had a nephew, a barrister, who is striving very hard to
fight his way at the bar: he has a mother and two sisters entirely
depending on him, and they are all very poor. All my aunt's property is
left to him.'
'Well, but why at least not shared with you?'
'I did not want it, you know, Selina, so much as they do. I have a
home, and papa is rich, and so'----
'And so, I suppose, you very generously besought Miss Moore not to
leave her fortune to you, but to her nephew?' said Selina with a
scornful laugh.
'No, no; I should not have presumed to speak on the subject to my kind,
good aunt. But one day before she had this last attack of illness she
spoke to me about my prospects, and asked me if papa was getting on
very well, and if he would be able to provide for me when I grew up'----
'And I've no doubt in the world,' interrupted Selina, staring with
excessive wonderment in her sister's face, 'that you innocently replied
that he would?'
'Of course, sister,' replied Lucy calmly; 'I could say nothing else,
you know; for when I came to see you five years ago, papa told me that
he meant to give us both fortunes when we married.'
'And you told Miss Moore this?'
'Certainly. She kissed me when I told her,' continued Lucy, beginning
to weep again as all these reminiscences were summoned to her mind,
'and said that I had eased her mind very much, her nephew was very
poor, and her money would do him and his family great service; and it
is never a good thing for a young girl to have much money independent
of her parents, my aunt said; and I think she was quite right.'
'Well,' said Selina, drawing a long breath, 'for a girl of nineteen
years and three months of age I certainly do think you are the very
greatest simpleton I ever saw.'
'Why so?' inquired Lucy in some surprise.
'Why, for telling your aunt about the fortune you would have: you might
have known that she would not make you her heiress if you were rich
already.'
'But she asked me the question, Selina.'
'That was no reason why you should have answered as you did.'
'How could I have answered otherwise after what papa had told me?'
Lucy was imperturbable in her simplicity and guilelessness. Selina
turned from her impatiently, despairing of ever making her comprehend
how foolishly she had behaved.
The next morning Mr and Mrs Davenant were informed by their eldest
daughter of Lucy's communications to her respecting Miss Moore's
property. Selina was surprised to find that they exhibited no signs of
great anger or disappointment, but contented themselves with inveighing
against Lucy's absurd simplicity, and her fatal deficiency in worldly
wisdom.
'Not that it matters so _very_ much this time,' said Mrs Davenant
philosophically; 'for it appears that the amount of Miss Moore's
fortune was very much exaggerated. Still, Lucy might as well have had
her three thousand pounds as Arthur Meredith; and it grieves me--the
entire affair--because it shows how very silly Lucy is in these
matters. She sadly wants common sense I fear.'
Similar verdicts were pronounced with regard to poor Lucy almost every
hour in the day, until she would plaintively and earnestly inquire,
'What _could_ mamma mean by worldly wisdom?' Certainly it was a branch
of knowledge which poor Miss Moore, with most unpardonable negligence,
had utterly neglected to instil into her young relative's mind. But
though it was greatly to be feared that Lucy would _never_ possess
wisdom, according to her mother's definition of the word, she could
not avoid, as in course of time she became better acquainted with the
principles and practices of her family, perceiving _what_ it was that
her parents dignified by so high-sounding a name. It made her very
miserable to perceive the system of manœuvring that daily went on with
regard to the most trivial as well as the more important affairs of
life. She could not help seeing that truth was often sacrificed for the
mere convenience of an hour, and was never respected when it formed an
obstacle to the execution of any plan or arrangement.
She felt keenly how wrong all this was, but she dared not interfere.
On two or three occasions, when she had ventured, timidly and
respectfully, to remonstrate on the subject, she had been chidden
with undue violence, and sent sad and tearful to her own room. With
Selina she was equally unsuccessful; only, instead of scolding, her
lively, thoughtless sister contented herself with laughing loudly,
and contemptuously affecting to pity her 'primitive simplicity and
ignorance.'
'It's a thousand pities, Lu, that your lot was not cast in the Arcadian
ages. You are evidently formed by nature to sit on a green bank in
shepherdess costume, twining flowers round your crook, and singing
songs to your lambs. Excuse me, my dear, but positively that's all
you are fit for. I wonder where I should be if I possessed your very,
_very_ scrupulous conscience, and your infinitesimally nice notions
of right and wrong? I daresay you'd be highly indignant--excessively
shocked--if you knew the little _ruse_ I was forced to resort to in
order to induce cross old Mrs Aylmer to take me to London with her last
year. Don't look alarmed; I'm not going to tell you the whole story;
only remember there _was_ a ruse.'
'Surely, Selina, you don't exult in it?' said Lucy, vexed at her
sister's air of triumph.
'Wait a minute. See the consequences of my visit to London, which, had
I been over-scrupulous, would never have taken place. Had I been _too_
particular, I should not have gone with Mrs Aylmer--should not have
been introduced to her wealthy and fashionable friends--should not have
met Mr Alfred Forde--_ergo_, should not have been engaged to be married
to him, as I have at present the happiness of being.'
'My dear Selina,' said Lucy timidly, but affectionately, laying her
hand upon her arm, and looking up into her face, 'are you sure that it
is a happiness? Are you quite sure that you _love_ Mr Forde?'
Selina frowned--perhaps in order to hide the blush that she could not
repress--and then peevishly shook off her sister's gentle touch.
'No lectures, if you please,' she said, turning away. 'Whatever my
feelings may be with regard to my future husband, they concern no one
but him and myself. Be assured I shall do my duty as a wife far better
than half the silly girls who indulge in hourly rhapsodies about their
love, devotion, and so forth.'
Lucy sighed, but dared not say more on the subject. She was aware that
Selina classed her with the 'silly girls' she spoke of. Some time
before, when her heart was bursting with its own weight of joy and
love, Lucy had been fain to yield to the natural yearning she felt for
some one to whom she could impart her feelings, and had told her sister
of her own love--love which she had just discovered was returned.
What an icy sensation she experienced when, in reply to her timid
and blushing confession, Selina sneered undisguisedly at her artless
ingenuousness, and 'begged to know the happy individual's name!' And
when she murmured the name of 'Arthur Meredith,' with all the sweet,
blushing bashfulness of a young girl half afraid of the new happiness
that has arisen in her heart--and almost fearing to whisper the beloved
name even to her own ears--how crushing, how cruel was the light laugh
of the other (a girl, too, yet how ungirlish!), as she exclaimed half
in scorn, half in triumph, 'I thought so! No wonder Miss Moore's legacy
was so easily resigned. I did not give you credit, Lu, for so much
skill in manœuvring.' Lucy earnestly and indignantly disclaimed the
insinuation; but Selina only bade her be proud of her talents, and
not feel ashamed of them; and she could only console herself by the
conviction that, in her inmost heart, Selina did not 'give her credit'
for the paltriness she affected to impute to her.
A short time afterwards, Arthur Meredith presented himself at B----,
and formally asked Mr Davenant's consent to his union with Lucy. The
consent was granted conditionally. Arthur was to pursue his profession
for two years, at the end of which time, if he was in a position to
support Lucy in the comfort and affluence she had hitherto enjoyed,
no further obstacle should be placed in the way of their marriage.
Arthur and Lucy were too reasonable not to perceive the justice of
this decision, and the young barrister left B---- inspirited by the
consciousness that on himself now depended his own and her happiness.
The time passed peacefully and happily with Lucy even after he was
gone. She heard from him frequently; and his letters were always
hopeful, sometimes exulting, with regard to the prospect which was
opening before him. Selina used to laugh at her when she received one
of those precious letters, and ran away to read it undisturbed in her
own room. Little cared she for the laugh--she was too happy; and if
she thought at all about her sister's sneers or sarcasms, it was to
pity her, sincerely and unfeignedly, that she could not comprehend
the holiness of the feeling she mocked and derided. Selina's destined
husband meanwhile was absent on the continent. He had an estate in
Normandy, and was compelled to be present during the progress of some
improvements. On his return they would be married, and Selina waited
till then with considerably less patience and philosophy than Lucy
evinced. Fifty times a day did she peevishly lament the delay; but not,
alas! from any excess of affection to the man she was about to marry:
it was always _apropos_ of some small inconvenience or privation that
she murmured. If she had to walk into the town, she would sigh for
the time 'when, as Mrs Forde, she would have a carriage at her own
exclusive command;' or if she coveted some costly bauble, the name
of Alfred was breathed impatiently, and a reference to 'pin-money'
was sure to follow. The marriage might have taken place by proxy with
singular advantage: if Mr Forde had sent a cheque on his banker for
half the amount of his income, Miss Selina would have married it with
all the complacency in the world!
Mr Davenant's worldly affairs at this juncture were not in such a
prosperous state as a man of his wisdom had a right to expect. In
fact he was involved in considerable difficulties, from which he
scarcely saw a way of extricating himself, when most fortunately,
as he averred, an old uncle of his, from whom he had what is called
'expectations,' voluntarily proposed visiting him at B----. The night
before his arrival, the _wise_ portion of the Davenant family sat in
solemn conclave, discussing the proper method of turning this visit to
account. Lucy sat in a corner, silent and unnoticed, quietly sewing,
while the family council went on.
Of course Mr Davenant never thought for an instant of pursuing the
truthful and straightforward course of stating his difficulties to his
relation, and honestly asking him for assistance.
'If old Atkinson suspected my affairs were in the disorder in which
they unfortunately are,' said Mr Davenant gravely, 'he would instantly
alter his will, and leave the considerable sum, which I know he intends
for me, to some one who is not so _imprudent_, as I suppose he would
call it, as I have been. I shall not easily forget his anger when my
Cousin John ran into debt, and applied to him for the money to save
him from prison. He gave him the money; but you'll see John wont have
a sixpence more: so much for being candid and sincere, as the silly
fellow said to me.'
At length it was arranged that Mr Davenant should ask his uncle to lend
him L.5000, in order to make a singularly-profitable investment which
was then open.
'I shall tell him,' said Mr Davenant, 'that I could easily command the
money without troubling him, by calling in part of my capital, but that
I scarcely think that a prudent course at the present juncture, because
I expect soon to be called upon to pay the girls' marriage portions. He
will be pleased at my _prudence_, and the last thing he will suspect
will be that I really need the money: so that will do excellently.'
'Dear papa,' ventured Lucy, bent on making one attempt to induce him
to adopt the simpler course of conduct--'dear papa, are you sure this
is really your most politic plan? Would it not be _safer_ to tell Mr
Atkinson your position, and ask him to assist you? Indeed--indeed--the
_truth_ is the best and surest policy.'
'Doubtless,' said her father contemptuously, 'my _candid_ Cousin John
found it so, and will find it so when Mr Atkinson's will is read and
he sees his name is struck out. Leave me alone, child; you understand
nothing of such things--you haven't the least idea of worldly wisdom.'
Thus was poor Lucy always repulsed when she attempted to advise. She
could only comfort herself with the hope that one day perhaps her
parents would think and act differently.
Mr Atkinson came the next day: he was a cheerful, pleasant-looking,
silver-haired old man, and was cordial and affectionate to the whole
family. Sincere and truthful himself, he was perfectly unsuspicious
of deceit or design in others. Thus everything promised well for Mr
Davenant's plan, more especially as the old man had rapidly become much
attached to the two girls: Selina, with her liveliness and spirit,
amused; and Lucy, gentle, and ever anxious for the comfort of all about
her, interested him.
On the fourth day, therefore, Mr Davenant commenced operations. He
alluded to a particular foreign railway, the shares of which were
then much below par, but which were certain, at a future and no very
distant period, to arrive at a considerable premium. He said that
he would willingly invest L.5000 in these shares, certain that in a
short time he should quadruple the sum, if it were not for the payment
of his girls' marriage portions, for which he should soon be called
on. And after a great deal of preparatory 'beating about the bush,'
he _candidly_, as he said, asked his uncle if he would lend him this
L.5000 for twelve months.
Mr Atkinson looked grave, which his nephew observing, _he_ looked grave
also.
'You see, Samuel,' said the old man, 'if it were really to do you a
service, you should have the money. If your _business_ required it--if
you were in temporary embarrassment, and needed these thousands to help
you out of it--_they should be yours_; but'----
He paused, and fixed his eyes on the ground in deep thought. Mr
Davenant started, and coloured as he listened; and involuntarily
he thought of poor Lucy's slighted advice. Her earnest words,
'Indeed--indeed--the _truth_ is the best and surest policy,' rung
clearly in his ears, and he felt now that she was _right_: but it
was too late now (or at least _he_ thought so) to repair his error,
and return to the straight path. He had made a point, ever since his
uncle's arrival, of boasting to him of his improved prospects, of the
solid basis on which his fortune stood, and of the flourishing state of
his business. He could not now retract all he had said, and lay bare
his difficulties--his necessities. Besides, even now perhaps that would
not be _prudent_: old Atkinson might be but _trying_ him after all. Mr
Davenant's little moment of right feeling soon passed away, and he was,
alas! 'himself again' by the time his uncle again began to speak.
'I don't like these speculations, Samuel,' said he; 'they are dangerous
things: if once you get involved in them, you never know when to
leave off: besides, they distract your attention from more legitimate
objects: your business might suffer. The business of a man prone to
speculate in matters he is unused to deal with rarely flourishes.'
Mr Davenant inwardly acknowledged the truth of these remarks. It was by
_speculation_ that he was brought to his present embarrassments; but he
said nothing.
'Take my advice, Sam,' continued Mr Atkinson, placing his hand
impressively on his nephew's arm, 'and have nothing to do with these
railways. Whether you gain or lose by them, they distract your
attention, you see, from your business, and so you lose one way at all
events. Don't meddle with them.'
Mr Davenant felt it imperative to make one grand effort more.
'Nay, my dear uncle,' he said smiling, 'whether you can accommodate me
with this sum or not, it's of no use trying to persuade me out of my
scheme. I am determined to invest the money, but shall not afterwards
trouble myself more about it. I shall purchase the shares; and whether
I eventually make or lose money by them, I shall not worry myself
respecting them. At a fitting opportunity I shall turn them into money
again, and whatever they produce is (but this is _entre nous_, you
understand) to be divided equally between my two girls.'
Mr Atkinson's face brightened. 'Oh, I begin to see, he exclaimed; 'I
perceive--it is for your two dear children. You are a good fellow,
Davenant: forgive me that I misinterpreted your object. Certainly, if
ever speculation is justifiable, it would be in such a case,' continued
the old man in a ruminative tone; 'and you shall not lose your object,
Sam; your girls shall have the chance; the L.5000 shall be invested,
and they shall have whatever it may produce. Don't you trouble
yourself; don't in the least embarrass or inconvenience yourself in
order to raise this sum; leave it to me--leave it to me: I'll arrange
it for the dear girls' sake.'
Mr Davenant, never doubting that a cheque for L.5000 would soon be
forthcoming, was profuse in his acknowledgments, and the uncle and
nephew parted mutually satisfied--the one to enjoy his matitutinal
walk, the other to exchange congratulations with his wife, and receive
proper praise for his successful diplomacy.
Still, he could not but wonder, and feel somewhat uncomfortable, as the
day appointed for Mr Atkinson's departure drew nigh, and he had yet
heard nothing of the L.5000. At length he grew so very apprehensive,
that it had been forgotten, or that something would interfere with his
possession of it, that as the money was becoming every day of more
vital importance to his interests, he ventured again to speak to his
uncle on the subject. His first words were checked; and the old man, by
rapidly speaking himself, prevented his saying more.
'Rest easy--rest easy,' said he; 'it is all right: I haven't forgotten
anything about the affair, I can assure you. You shall hear from me on
the subject after I get home; meanwhile make your mind _quite_ easy.
The girls shall have their railway shares, Sam; don't worry yourself.'
With this Mr Davenant was fain to be content; yet it was not without
sundry uncomfortable feelings of doubt and perplexity that he watched
his uncle enter his travelling-carriage, and waved his hand to him,
as two post-horses rapidly whirled him away from B----. A fortnight
passed, and excepting a hasty letter, announcing his safe arrival in
Gloucestershire, nothing was heard from Mr Atkinson. Mr Davenant's
creditors were clamorous, and would no longer be put off; a complete
exposure of his affairs appeared inevitable; and in this extremity he
wrote to his uncle, saying that he wished to purchase the shares in the
---- Railway immediately, as it was a desirable opportunity, and every
day might render it less advantageous. Therefore he intreated him to
enclose a draft for the amount, that he might forward it to his broker,
and obtain the shares.