MANNERS:
A NOVEL.
----Dicas hÓc forsitan unde
Ingenium par materiÊ.
JUVENAL.
Je sais qu'un sot trouve toujours un plus sot pour le lire.
FRED. LE GRAND.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR BALDWIN, CRADOCK, AND JOY,
PATERNOSTER ROW.
1817.
MANNERS.
CHAPTER I.
Yo sË, Olalla, que me adoras,
Puesta que no me lo has dicho,
Ni a˙n con los ojos siguiera,
Mudas lenguas de amorios[1].
CERVANTES SAAVEDRA.
[Footnote 1:
I know, Olalla, that thou lov'st me,
Though words have ne'er thy flame confess'd;
Nor even have those guarded eyes,
Mute tell-tales of love's embassies,
Betray'd the secret of thy breast,--
Yet still, Olalla, still thou lov'st me.
]
It was long before Selina's agitated spirits could be composed; and when
at length she sunk to rest, she was haunted by confused dreams of mixed
joy and sorrow, in which Mordaunt's figure was always prominent. At
last, however, towards morning she fell into a quiet sleep, from which
she did not awake till several hours after Mrs. Galton and Augustus had
left Eltondale.
Selina had given her maid so many charges to call her in time to take
leave of them, that she had firmly relied on her doing so, little
imagining that Mrs. Galton had previously determined to spare her the
pain of parting. She had left a note for her, in which she reiterated
her farewell, and her request to hear frequently from Selina; but the
kindness of its expressions, if possible, aggravated the poor girl's
sorrow and disappointment. As usual, she gave way unrestrainedly to her
feelings, and wept aloud, really unconscious that while her tears flowed
ostensibly for Mrs. Galton alone, her regrets arose not a little from
the absence of Augustus. But, though Selina deceived herself in the
belief, that she only bewailed this her first separation from her
beloved aunt, she was most sincere in the grief she professed to feel on
her account; for hypocrisy was a stranger to her guileless heart, yet
uninitiated in the mysteries of that world, in which the timid and
unpractised first learn to conceal the sentiments they actually feel,
and conclude by displaying those that are but assumed. On the contrary,
her genuine feelings were neither blunted by familiarity with sorrow,
nor exhausted by the premature cultivation of sickly sensibility; and,
though a more sobered reason might have wished the expression of them to
be occasionally restrained, yet even a Stoic might have confessed, that
the perfection of her judgment would have been dearly purchased by any
alteration in the susceptibility of her heart.
Her melancholy toilet was scarcely finished, before she was summoned to
Lady Eltondale's dressing-room. Her Ladyship advanced to the door to
meet her with unusual cordiality of manner; but she scarcely beheld her
wan countenance, when, starting back, she exclaimed with surprise, "Good
heavens, child! what can be the matter? Oh! I had really forgotten Mrs.
Galton's departure. Why, Selina, you could not have disfigured yourself
more, if she was gone to heaven instead of to Bath. Here, La Fayette, do
bring some cold cream to Miss Seymour, and a little _eau de Cologne_.
However, my dear girl, I cannot regret that you have so totally
disguised yourself to-day, as we shall have a pleasant _tÍte ‡ tÍte_.
You shall breakfast up stairs with me this morning, for you are really
at present not presentable."
Lady Eltondale's kind consideration for Selina individually, and
apparent indifference to the cause of her sorrow, was, perhaps, more
effectual in its temporary suppression, than the most sympathetic
condolences would have been; and, before Mons. Argant made his
appearance with the apparatus for breakfast, Selina had sufficiently
recollected herself, to request Lady Eltondale not to derange her plans
on her account, but to remember her other guests.
"My dear little rustic," answered her Ladyship, laughing, "your odd
notions really remind me of the last century. Nobody plays the part of
hostess now; and as to guests--none could be admitted into a fashionable
house, that do not know how to make themselves perfectly at home in it.
I declare you are so simple, you would hardly have understood the merit
of Mr. Frederick Bijou appearing last spring at a party his wife gave to
the Prince, with a round hat under his arm, to show he was the only
stranger in the room. Why now every inn in a country village is fitted
up with all the conveniences of a private house; and the best praise you
can give to a family mansion is to compare it to an hotel." The
Viscountess was excessively entertained at the artless surprise
expressed by her auditor; and concluded some similar observations by
saying, she knew Selina would be so astray in the scene into which she
had been thus suddenly dropt, that she was very glad nobody would be
with them till after Christmas. "Then," said Selina, "I suppose Lady
Hammersley is gone." "Oh! dear no--but she is nobody. Sir Robert is a
relation of my Lord's; and I am obliged to go through the martyrdom of
hearing his barbarous phraseology for at least a month every year, and I
am afraid ten days of the penance are yet to come. Lady Hammersley never
visits London; and, indeed, I believe the good woman thinks herself
almost contaminated by even venturing as far as this within the
Charybdean pool.--But, poor soul! she need not be afraid. If fashion was
absolutely epidemical, she would never suffer from the contagion. She
and the Admiral spend nine months of every year at Bath; he, drinking
the water and reading the newspapers, and she, playing cards and writing
essays. However, you may turn even her to account; for in one half hour
you will learn more what vice is, from her long-syllabled declamations
against it, than your poor innocent head would dream of in a
twelvemonth."
"And which of the parents does the son resemble?" asked Selina,
laughing. "Why, it is difficult to divine what nature intended him to
be. One may parody Cowper, and say, 'God made them, but he has made
himself;' and what the composition will turn out, I know not. He wishes
to be a man of the world, and affects the reputation of vice, without
having the courage to be wicked. I verily believe he is often at church
of a Sunday evening, when he pretends to be at the gaming-table.
However, you need not be inquisitive about him, for he will never
condescend to notice you, till he ascertains whether you are the
fashion or not. He does not want money, and he does want _ton_; and you
know, according to the new system of craniology, men ought to choose
their wives by the inverse ratio of their own deficiences. But you don't
inquire about Mademoiselle Omphalie, whom I thought you meant last night
to swear an everlasting friendship with. I asked her here solely for
your sake."
Selina coloured, and expressed her thanks with her usual warmth and
_empressement_.
"But I do not intend Mademoiselle Omphalie to be Miss Seymour's bosom
friend. She is a public singer, my dear, and as such her reputation is
perfect;--her private character is, I believe, much less immaculate; but
with that, you know, we have nothing to do. The world now adopts the
precept, 'Judge not that ye be not judged;' and, if people are wise
enough not to hold the lantern to their own vices, they need not be
troubled with any Diogenes. As to Mademoiselle Omphalie, she is just now
on the tottering point of respectability, which, of course, makes her
doubly decorous in her general behaviour; and, as I do not think her
reputation can survive another winter, I was extremely anxious to seize
this opportunity of giving you the advantage of her talents and
instruction in music. But, Selina, don't let her instruct you in
anything else, for she would infallibly make you a prude or a coquette,
and I scarcely know which I hate most."
It is impossible to express Selina's astonishment at Lady Eltondale's
conversation. When they had last met, she had been both delighted and
surprised at the ease and elegance of her manners; but as she had only
seen her in the company of Mrs. Galton, she was totally unconscious of
the degree of levity to which that ease of manner could degenerate,
either from accident or design. Lady Eltondale now entertained her
wondering guest with a style of conversation to which she was totally
unused. It is true, her expressions, like her conduct, were so guarded
that no weak point was left open to censure; but she seemed so little to
respect the barriers between vice and virtue, that they appeared to be
considered by her as by no means insurmountable;--and Selina, finding
those principles of rigid propriety now ridiculed, which she had
hitherto been taught only to venerate, wondered for a moment whether the
error lay in her Ladyship's frivolity or her own ignorance.
Meantime the Viscountess was not unobservant of her niece. She perceived
that her changing countenance portrayed every varying emotion, almost
before she was herself conscious of its influence. Sometimes the
expression of her dark brow led her to fear, that Selina was capable of
making deep reflections, though she willingly believed her deficient in
resolution. At other times the arch smile, that played round her dimpled
mouth, showed she was by no means insensible to the charms of raillery
and satire, whilst the half-formed reply seemed to insinuate, that she
could emulate the bewitching, though dangerous, talent she admired. But
above all, Lady Eltondale failed not to remark the evanescent nature of
all Selina's feelings, which almost seemed to exhaust themselves in the
first stage of their existence. Hers was indeed "the tear forgot as soon
as shed;" and, as she accompanied Lady Eltondale through the various
apartments of her splendid house, and innocently expressed her delight
and wonder at all she saw, her experienced and artful guide smiled at
the rapid transitions of her thoughts, and anticipated a speedy conquest
over a mind, which appeared already weakened by inherent volatility.
When Selina joined the party at dinner-time, Mrs. Galton, Augustus, and
the Hall, seemed already to be forgotten by her. It was true the roses
in her cheek yet drooped from the effect of the morning shower; but her
lovely countenance had reassumed that expression of content and pleasure
which was most natural to it.--But,
How like this spring of love resembleth
The uncertain glories of an April day,
Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,
And by and by a cloud takes all away.
Unfortunately at dinner Lord Eltondale addressed to her one of his
inconsiderate compliments, in which he alluded, with more kindness than
delicacy, to her recent misfortune. The unexpected mention of her father
overcame her spirits; and, as usual, without reference to the
spectators, she gave way to the feelings of the moment, and burst into
tears. Mr. Hammersley, laying down his knife and fork, turned to stare
at the mourner with an expression of countenance, that seemed to say,
it was long since he had witnessed the natural emotions of a susceptible
heart. Lady Eltondale withdrew the attention of Mademoiselle Omphalie by
making some opportune inquiry. But Sir Robert's observation of Selina
was not to be evaded. After looking at her steadfastly for some minutes,
he exclaimed, "Come, come, my girl, cheer up;--swab the spray off your
bowsprit, and never let the toppinglifts of your heart go down. If your
father has got into port before you, if you keep a steady course and a
true reckoning, you'll be sure of having a good birth alongside of him
in a tide or two. Here, toss off this bumper, and haul in your jib
sheet."
Selina could not help smiling at the manner in which the kind-hearted
old man offered his consolation. But Lady Hammersley, who had hitherto
remained in silence, now remarked in an emphatic tone, that "It was a
work of supererogation to endeavour to suppress the tear of filial
regret. A few weeks' association with the votaries of fashion would
effectually eradicate the meritorious sentiments, and teach hypocritical
sensibility to fictitious griefs to be ostentatiously substituted for
genuine susceptibility."
From that day, during the remainder of his stay at Eltondale, Sir Robert
Hammersley seemed to interest himself particularly about Selina. And
though his Lady seldom condescended to address herself to her, yet even
the cynical turn of her conversation implied approbation of Miss
Seymour's present character by the very anticipations of its speedy
alteration, which she daily repeated. Mr. Hammersley, as Lady Eltondale
had prophesied, scarcely noticed the untutored girl, and seldom joined
the morning party, except when Mademoiselle Omphalie was employed in
communicating her enchanting talents to Selina, whose rapid progress
astonished even Lady Eltondale. She already perfectly understood the
science of music; and her naturally fine voice was peculiarly adapted
to exemplify Mademoiselle Omphalie's excellent instructions. Even before
many weeks had passed, Selina could not only join her in some beautiful
Italian duets, but also accompany herself very tolerably on the harp,
which soon became her favourite instrument.