During the week of mourning, the intercourse between Moseley Hall and
the rectory was confined to messages and notes of inquiry after each
other's welfare: but the visit of the Moseleys to the deanery had been
returned; and the day after the appearance of the obituary paragraph,
the family of the latter dined by invitation at the Hall. Colonel
Egerton had recovered the use of his leg, and was included in the party.
Between this gentleman and Mr. Benfield there appeared, from the first
moment of their introduction, a repugnance which was rather increased by
time, and which the old gentleman manifested by a demeanor loaded with
the overstrained ceremony of the day, and which, in the colonel, only
showed itself by avoiding, when possible, all intercourse with the
object of his aversion. Both Sir Edward and Lady Moseley, on the
contrary, were not slow in manifesting their favorable impressions in
behalf of the gentleman. The latter, in particular, having ascertained
to her satisfaction that he was the undoubted heir to the title, and
most probably to the estates of his uncle, Sir Edgar Egerton, felt
herself strongly disposed to encourage an acquaintance she found so
agreeable, and to which she could see no reasonable objection. Captain
Jarvis, who was extremely offensive to her, from his vulgar familiarity,
she barely tolerated, from the necessity of being civil, and keeping up
sociability in the neighborhood. It is true, she could not help being
surprised that a gentleman, as polished as the colonel, could find any
pleasure in an associate like his friend, or even in the hardly more
softened females of his family; then again, the flattering suggestion
would present itself, that possibly he might have seen Emily at Bath, or
Jane elsewhere, and availed himself of the acquaintance of young Jarvis
to get into their neighborhood. Lady Moseley had never been vain, or
much interested about the disposal of her own person, previously to her
attachment to her husband: but her daughters called forth not a little
of her natural pride--we had almost said of her selfishness.
The attentions of the colonel were of the most delicate and insinuating
kind; and Mrs. Wilson several times turned away in displeasure at
herself, for listening with too much satisfaction to nothings, uttered
in an agreeable manner, or, what was worse, false sentiments supported
with the gloss of language and a fascinating deportment. The anxiety of
this lady on behalf of Emily kept her ever on the alert, when chance, or
any chain of circumstances, threw her in the way of forming new
connexions of any kind; and of late, as her charge approached the period
of life her sex were apt to make that choice from which there is no
retreat, her solicitude to examine the characters of the men who
approached her was really painful. As to Lady Moseley, her wishes
disposed her to be easily satisfied, and her mind naturally shrank from
an investigation to which she felt herself unequal; while Mrs. Wilson
was governed by the convictions of a sound discretion, matured by long
and deep reasoning, all acting on a temper at all times ardent, and a
watchfulness calculated to endure to the end.
"Pray, my lady," said Mrs. Jarvis, with a look of something like
importance, "have you made any discovery about this Mr. Denbigh, who
died in the church lately?"
"I did not know, ma'am," replied Lady Moseley, "there was any discovery
to be made."
"You know, Lady Moseley," said Colonel Egerton, "that in town, all the
little accompaniments of such a melancholy death would have found their
way into the prints; and I suppose this is what Mrs. Jarvis alludes to."
"Oh yes," cried Mrs. Jarvis, "the colonel is right." But the colonel was
always right with that lady.
Lady Moseley bowed her head with dignity, and the colonel had too much
tact to pursue the conversation; but the captain, whom nothing had ever
yet abashed, exclaimed,
"These Denbighs could not be people of much importance--I have never
heard the name before."
"It is the family name of the Duke of Derwent, I believe," dryly
remarked Sir Edward.
"Oh, I am sure neither the old man nor his son looked much like a duke,
or so much as an officer either," exclaimed Mrs. Jarvis, who thought the
latter rank the dignity in degree next below nobility.
"There sat, in the parliament of this realm, when I was a member, a
General Denbigh," said Mr. Benfield, with his usual deliberation; "he
was always on the same side with Lord Gosford and myself. He and his
friend, Sir Peter Howell, who was the admiral that took the French
squadron, in the glorious administration of Billy Pitt, and afterwards
took an island with this same General Denbigh: aye, the old admiral was
a hearty blade; a good deal such a looking man as my Hector would make."
Hector was Mr. Benfield's bull dog.
"Mercy," whispered John to Clara, "that's your grandfather that is to be
uncle Benfield is speaking of."
Clara smiled, as she ventured to say, "Sir Peter was Mrs. Ives's father,
sir."
"Indeed!" said the old gentleman, with a look of surprise, "I never knew
that before; I cannot say they resemble each other much."
"Pray, uncle, does Frank look much like the family?" asked John, with an
air of unconquerable gravity.
"But, sir," interrupted Emily, "were General Denbigh and Admiral Howell
related?"
"Not that I ever knew, Emmy dear. Sir Frederick Denbigh did not look
much like the admiral; he rather resembled (gathering himself up into an
air of formality, and bowing stiffly to Colonel Egerton) this gentleman,
here."
"I have not the honor of the connexion," observed the colonel,
withdrawing behind the chair of Jane.
Mrs. Wilson changed the conversation to one more general; but the little
that had fallen from Mr. Benfield gave reason for believing a connexion,
in some way of which they were ignorant, existed between the descendants
of the two veterans, and which explained the interest they felt in each
other.
During dinner, Colonel Egerton placed himself next to Emily, and Miss
Jarvis took the chair on the other side. He spoke of the gay world, of
watering-places, novels, plays, and still finding his companion
reserved, and either unwilling or unable to talk freely, he tried his
favorite sentiment. He had read poetry, and a remark of his lighted up a
spark of intelligence in the beautiful face of his companion that for a
moment deceived him; but as he went on to point out his favorite
beauties, it gave place to a settled composure, which at last led him to
imagine the casket contained no gem equal to the promise of its
brilliant exterior. After resting from one of his most labored displays
of feeling and imagery, he accidentally caught the eyes of Jane fastened
on him with an expression of no dubious import, and the soldier changed
his battery. In Jane he found a more willing auditor; poetry was the
food she lived on, and in works of the imagination she found her
greatest delight. An animated discussion of the merits of their favorite
authors now took place; to renew which, the colonel early left the
dining-room for the society of the ladies; John, who disliked drinking
excessively, being happy of an excuse to attend him.
The younger ladies had clustered together round a window and even Emily
in her heart rejoiced that the gentlemen had come to relieve herself and
sisters from the arduous task of entertaining women who appeared not to
possess a single taste or opinion in common with themselves.
"You were saying, Miss Moseley," observed the colonel in his most
agreeable manner, as he approached them, "you thought Campbell the most
musical poet we have; I hope you will unite with me in excepting Moore."
Jane colored, as with some awkwardness she replied, "Moore was certainly
very poetical."
"Has Moore written much?" innocently asked Emily.
"Not half as much as he ought," cried Miss Jarvis. "Oh! I could live on
his beautiful lines."
Jane turned away in disgust; and that evening, while alone with Clara,
she took a volume of Moore's songs, and very coolly consigned them to
the flames. Her sister naturally asked an explanation of so
extraordinary a procedure.
"Oh!" cried Jane, "I can't abide the book, since that vulgar Miss Jarvis
speaks of it with so much interest. I really believe aunt Wilson is
right in not suffering Emily to read such things." And Jane, who had
often devoured the treacherous lines with ardor, shrank with fastidious
delicacy from the indulgence of a perverted taste, when it became
exposed, coupled with the vulgarity of unblushing audacity.
Colonel Egerton immediately changed the subject to one less
objectionable, and spoke of a campaign he had made in Spain. He
possessed the happy faculty of giving an interest to all he advanced,
whether true or not; and as he never contradicted, or even opposed
unless to yield gracefully, when a lady was his opponent, his
conversation insensibly attracted, by putting the sex in good humor with
themselves. Such a man, aided by the powerful assistants of person and
manners, and no inconsiderable colloquial talents, Mrs. Wilson knew to
be extremely dangerous as a companion to a youthful female heart; and as
his visit was to extend to a couple of months, she resolved to
reconnoitre the state of her pupil's opinion forthwith in reference to
his merits. She had taken too much pains in forming the mind of Emily to
apprehend she would fall a victim to the eye; but she also knew that
personal grace sweetened a benevolent expression, and added force even
to the oracles of wisdom. She labored a little herself under the
disadvantage of what John called a didactic manner, and which, although
she had not the ability, or rather taste, to amend, she had yet the
sense to discern. It was the great error of Mrs. Wilson to attempt to
convince, where she might have influenced; but her ardor of temperament,
and great love of truth, kept her, as it were, tilting with the vices of
mankind, and consequently sometimes in unprofitable combat. With her
charge, however, this could never be said to be the case, Emily knew her
heart, felt her love, and revered her principles too deeply, to throw
away an admonition, or disregard a precept, that fell from lips she knew
never spoke idly or without consideration.
John had felt tempted to push the conversation with Miss Jarvis, and he
was about to utter something rapturous respecting the melodious poison
of Little's poems, as the blue eye of Emily rested on him in the fulness
of sisterly affection and checking his love of the ridiculous, he
quietly yielded to his respect for the innocence of his sisters; and, as
if eager to draw the attention of all from the hateful subject, he put
question after question to Egerton concerning the Spaniards and their
customs.
"Did you ever meet Lord Pendennyss in Spain, Colonel Egerton?" inquired
Mrs. Wilson, with interest.
"Never, madam," he replied. "I have much reason to regret that our
service lay in different parts of the country: his lordship was much
with the duke, and I made the campaign under Marshal Beresford."
Emily left the group at the window, and taking a seat on the sofa by the
side of her aunt, insensibly led her to forget the gloomy thoughts which
had begun to steal over her; which the colonel, approaching where they
sat, continued, by asking--
"Are you acquainted with the earl, madam?"
"Not in person, but by character," said Mrs. Wilson, in a melancholy
manner.
"His character as a soldier was very high. He had no superior of his
years in Spain, I am told."
No reply was made to this remark, and Emily endeavored anxiously to draw
the mind of her aunt to reflections of a more agreeable nature. The
colonel, whose vigilance to please was ever on the alert, kindly aided
her, and they soon succeeded.
The merchant withdrew, with his family and guest, in proper season: and
Mrs. Wilson, heedful of her duty, took the opportunity of a quarter of
an hour's privacy in her own dressing-room in the evening, to touch
gently on the subject of the gentlemen they had seen that day.
"How are you pleased, Emily, with your new acquaintances?" familiarly
commenced Mrs. Wilson.
"Oh! aunt, don't ask me; as John says, they are net indeed."
"I am not sorry," continued the aunt, "to have you observe more closely
than you have been used to the manners of such women as the Jarvises;
they are too abrupt and unpleasant to create a dread of any imitation;
but the gentlemen are heroes in very different styles."
"Different from each other, indeed."
"To which do you give the preference, my dear?"
"Preference, aunt!" said her niece, with a look of astonishment;
"preference is a strong word for either; but I rather think the captain
the most eligible companion of the two. I do believe you see the worst
of him; and although I acknowledge it to be bad enough, he might amend;
but the colonel"--
"Go on," said Mrs. Wilson.
"Why, everything about the colonel seems so seated, so ingrafted in his
nature, so--so very self-satisfied, that I am afraid it would be a
difficult task to take the first step in amendment--to convince him of
its necessity?
"And is it then so necessary?"
Emily looked up from arranging some laces, with an expression of
surprise, as he replied:
"Did you not hear him talk of those poems, and attempt to point out the
beauties of several works? I thought everything he uttered was referred
to taste, and that not a very natural one; at least," she added with a
laugh, "it differed greatly from mine. He seemed to forget altogether
there was such a thing as principle: and then he spoke of some woman to
Jane, who had left her father for her lover, with so much admiration of
her feelings, to take up with poverty and love, as he called it, in
place of condemning her want of filial piety--I am sure, aunt, if you
had heard that, you would not admire him so much."
"I do not admire him at all, child; I only want to know your sentiments,
and I am happy to find them so correct. It is as you think; Colonel
Egerton appears to refer nothing to principle: even the more generous
feelings I am afraid are corrupted in him, from too low intercourse with
the surface of society. There is by far too much pliability about him
for principle of any kind, unless indeed it be a principle to please, no
matter how. No one, who has deeply seated opinions of right and wrong,
will ever abandon them, even in the courtesies of polite intercourse:
they may be silent but never acquiescent: in short, my dear, the dread
of offending our Maker ought to be so superior to that of offending our
fellow creatures, that we should endeavor, I believe, to be even more
unbending to the follies of the world than we are."
"And yet the colonel is what they call a good companion--I mean a
pleasant one."
"In the ordinary meaning of the words, he is certainly, my dear; yet you
soon tire of sentiments which will not stand the test of examination,
and of a manner you cannot but see is artificial. He may do very well
for a companion, but very ill for a friend; in short, Colonel Egerton
has neither been satisfied to yield to his natural impressions, nor to
obtain new ones from a proper source; he has copied from bad models, and
his work must necessarily be imperfect."
Kissing her niece, Mrs. Wilson then retired into her own room, with the
happy assurance that she had not labored in vain; but that, with divine
aid, she had implanted a guide in the bosom of her charge that could not
fail, with ordinary care, to lead her straight through the devious path
of female duties.