One only passion unreveal'd
With maiden pride the maid conceal'd;
Yet not less purely felt the flame--
Oh! need I then that passion name?
SCOTT.
Civil people always meet with civility, and Adelaide accomplished her
journey without meeting either accident or insult. When the carriage
stopped at the Talbot Inn in Shrewsbury, she was received at the door by
Mr. Webberly, who had evidently been watching her arrival. On her asking
for his mother and sisters, he pointed to a window, where she saw Mrs.
Sullivan attired in a sky-blue habit of cassimir, with a white beaver
hat and feathers. Cecilia, in a modish pelisse, looking at that
distance very handsome; and Miss Webberly, in the opposite window,
_intently_ reading. Mrs. Sullivan met Adelaide half way down stairs,
apparently glad to see her. The young ladies greeted her with a slight
bow, just muttering a scarcely audible "How d'ye do:"--one turning to
stare out of the window, the other affecting to bestow all her attention
on her book. Little Caroline, exclaiming "Oh, tie my frock quick, quick!
there's my dear Adele come: I hear mama talking to her,"--burst from an
inner apartment, heedless of the remonstrances of her maid, and jumping
up with one spring, twisted her ivory arms about her neck; and as
Adelaide fondly pressed the lovely child to her heart, her countenance
expressed those feelings--
"Which are to mortals given,
With less of earth in them than Heav'n:"
For affliction had indeed "touched her looks with something that was
scarce earthly," and, when brightened by any emotion near akin to joy,
smiles such as might have beamed in the face of a seraph illuminated
hers. Mrs. Sullivan, in a tone of sorrowful admiration, whispered to
Cecilia, "Jack can't choose but fancy her; she's beautifuller than ever:
I han't seen her like since we parted." "Law, mama!" replied Cecilia
with unmixed vexation, "I believe you've taken leave of your senses,
since you used to say she was a sallow poking thing. You forget what
beautiful girls the Miss Nathans, and the Miss Bakers, and all the
Lunnon ladies are." Here, with affected indifference and real
mortification, she stopped to examine the subject of their discourse
through her glass. As she continued to gaze, her soft cheek became
crimsoned with anger, and her beautiful eye, which seemed formed to
convey the tender feelings of the gentlest female heart, scowled with
the dark expression of envy. Adelaide, turning her eyes on her face,
met that glance, and sighing to see the youthful bloom of this fair
creature deformed by malevolent emotions, felt for her the pity of a
superior nature, that from its own beatitude beholds the fretful
passions of a being incessantly employed in weaving the web of its own
misery, and mourns that it may not save the wretched victim from its
self-destroying arts.
When Adelaide sat down, Mr. Webberly, leaning over the arm of the sofa,
began a complimentary conversation, which she soon terminated on the
excuse of retiring to make some slight alteration in her travelling
dress before the time of dinner. In the course of this evening, Mrs.
Sullivan and her son overloaded Miss Wildenheim with officious
civilities; and the young ladies paid her many ironical compliments
intended as insults; but she _would_ not show, by word or look, that she
understood them otherwise than according to the literal sense, and
amused herself a little maliciously (forgive her, for she was but human)
by observing their disappointment at finding their best efforts at
mortifying her fail of success. But at night, her feelings were those of
bitter anguish, as she involuntarily compared this day with the last she
had spent at the Parsonage of Deane, in the enlightened society of her
kind friends. "But I shall meet them again ere long, and shall enjoy
their society doubly from the comparison of my present associates. I am
resolved to think the time till we meet as little disagreeable as
possible." Her thoughts then reverted to the scenes of her early life,
on which they could now rest with mournful complacency; and, as she
recalled to memory the precepts of her beloved father, with a pardonable
superstition, she fondly flattered herself that he yet spoke to her
heart. The treasured admonitions of this revered parent at once
fortified her mind and soothed her feelings; on them she continued to
ponder till sleep deprived her of recollection and his image at the same
moment. Her heart was cheered by a sentiment of filial piety, similar to
that so beautifully expressed by Scott's Ellen:
My soul, though feminine and weak,
Can image his; even as the lake,
Itself disturb'd by slightest stroke,
Reflects the invulnerable rock.
Notwithstanding Adelaide's best endeavours to persuade herself the
Webberlys _en masse_ were a pleasant family, and not less amiable than
agreeable, she now found them more intolerable than ever.
Mr. Webberly's attentions were as incessant as disgusting, and to her
astonishment his mother no longer gave them overt opposition. His
sisters, on the contrary, were more than ever devoured by "proud spleen
and burning envy;" but they excited in her mind only the most profound
compassion. Pity is said to be near akin to love; it is sometimes
however very closely allied to that mournful pardon we grant to a
character, whose irremediable defects excite our unqualified hopeless
disapprobation.
As for Mrs. Sullivan, Adelaide felt grieved she could not like her, for
she at least had the feelings of a mother; and where is the character so
degraded, that these will not give a claim to our love, to our
veneration? When she saw this poor woman, full of love and pride in her
elder children, pour forth her fondness on them, and saw the ungrateful
objects of her tenderness insultingly disdain it, because it did not
appear in the language and gestures of what they supposed to be fashion,
she redoubled her attentions, and her sweetly soothing manners,
sometimes chased the starting tears from the offended mother's eye,
sometimes made them flow from the bitterness of the comparison they
caused her to make. But when, softened by compassion, Adelaide was
reproaching herself for her want of liking to a woman, who, though a
mistaken, was an affectionate mother, some trait of ostentatious
arrogant despotism to those not united by ties of relationship sent her
benevolent feelings, with accelerated motion, back to the source of
kindness from whence they had begun to flow. Vulgarity alone was no
crime in her mind; she considered it merely as an accident to which
certain conditions are liable, and, therefore, when it was an
accompaniment of worth, she did not _dare_ to feel it a fit subject of
contempt. She was too noble in soul, too pious in heart, to presume on
her accidental advantages of education, to despise "the pure in spirit,"
who are, however lowly in earthly station, glorious in the approving
smile of Heaven.
But as Mrs. Sullivan was on one point alone entitled to respect, and
even there imperfectly, (for, owing to the mercenary artifices of her
elder daughters, she was nearly indifferent to Caroline,) Adelaide had
now a hard task to perform--namely, to fortify herself once more with
indifference to all her associates. Her feelings had been awakened from
their temporary torpor by her visit to the Temples, and she now felt it
most painful to lower them to the icy temperature they had attained in
the soul-benumbing atmosphere of Webberly House. "However, (thought
she,) I must only play the dormouse, and, like it, having gone through a
few months' torpidity, I shall then wake to an existence of positive
enjoyment."
Mrs. Sullivan, during Miss Wildenheim's absence, had become conscious of
the value of her decorum of manner; for besides the attention it
prompted this young lady to pay her, as due to the person under whose
roof she resided, it acted as a restraint on the rudeness of her
daughters, who, when unshackled by the presence of an example of
propriety in their domestic scene, opposed their mother in every trifle
with the most perverse obstinacy. Mr. Webberly, as soon as he had been
refused by Selina, told his mother, in the first effusions of his
wounded pride, he was determined to marry Miss Wildenheim directly. "He
was rich enough to please himself after all; he was sure she was a far
personabler woman than Miss Seymour, though Miss did think no small beer
of herself." As he could not have Selina, his mother now wished him to
marry his cousin Miss Leatherly, who was nearly as rich, though she had
not the advantages of connection, that had won her pride to prefer Miss
Seymour. She had long delayed her answer to Adelaide's letter,
determining she should seek another home; but her son declared if she
did not bring her to Ireland, he would not go either, but would remain
in whatever place she resided till she was of age, and then it would
not be in his mother's power to prevent their marriage. Mrs. Sullivan,
alarmed at this menace, determined no longer to use open opposition, but
to trust to chance and the possibility of Miss Wildenheim's own pride
assisting her to defeat his wishes; therefore offered to compromise the
matter, by saying she would bring Miss Wildenheim with her to Ireland,
on condition he did not actually propose for her till the period fixed
for their return to England, promising she would do nothing to prevent
his paying her what attentions he pleased; but, at the same time giving
him to understand, the match would never receive her approbation,
reminding him that a ten thousand pound fortune with a wife was nothing!
and that he had little now left but what she pleased to give him. Mr.
Webberly had found out from Selina's conduct, it was possible he might
be refused; therefore, yielding in part to his mother's wishes,
acknowledging, on second thoughts, a little delay would be no bad
thing, as it might enable him to conquer his mistress's resentment for
his having transferred his attention elsewhere, which he elegantly
expressed, by saying "In the first brush of the thing she may cuff off
her nose to punish her face."
Our travellers proceeded on their journey with the most dissimilar
feelings possible. Mrs. Sullivan enjoying the idea of the fortune this
expedition would secure to Caroline--the Miss Webberlys, in sullen
discontent, were forming schemes to make their mother return as soon as
possible to the neighbourhood of London, supposing the society of
Ballinamoyle must be still more insipid than that in the vicinity of
Webberly House--their brother engaged in promoting the success of his
passion for Adelaide, she not less so in keeping him at a distance, and
in the endeavour to divert her thoughts from her companions to the
country they passed through--Caroline alone, with unfeigned pleasure,
was enjoying the change of scene, and coaxing her "Dear, precious
Adele," who returned the sweet child's caresses with equal affection.
The weather was intolerably hot; the Miss Webberlys would not consent to
have their pelisses faded by opening the barouche--"You know, mama, we
can't get any thing from London for a long time, and you would not have
_us_ dress in the Irish fashions:" so the four ladies and Caroline were
nearly suffocated with heat; little relief was obtained from letting
down the front windows, for Mr. Webberly and a footman in the driving
seat intercepted the air. Mr. Webberly had placed himself there, that he
might from time to time cast sweet looks at Adelaide. She sat with her
back to him that she might not see them; but this was of little avail,
for he tapped her every five minutes on the shoulder, on pretence of
pointing out some remarkable object to her notice, therefore she
willingly accepted Mrs. Sullivan's offer of making room for her on the
other seat. Oh! how she envied the abigails, as they drove past in the
post chaise! she could not enjoy the pleasure of walking up the hills
with Caroline, as in that case, Mr. Webberly was at her side in an
instant, ready primed with the compliments he had composed on the
barouche seat. But notwithstanding all this, she was enchanted with the
picturesque scenery of North Wales: the Vale of Langollen, Capel
Kerrick, and Lake Oggen, called forth her rapturous praise, in the
expression of which she was sometimes joined by her companions, though
they were little capable of feeling the pleasure she experienced.
Mrs. Sullivan's parsimony always showing itself in trifles, she
quarrelled with all the drivers, ostlers, chamber maids, and waiters, as
she came along, by offering them less than people who travelled with the
same _cortËge_ usually did. The Welsh are a remarkably sturdy people;
and if, on entering Wales, you offend the man who drives you the first
stage, the bad effects of his irascible feelings follow your carriage
wheels to the last. What must it be when each equestrian is individually
enraged at you!
The carriage windows were no sooner drawn up, to put an end to the
clamour occasioned by such squabbles on the outside, than the usual
contentions were renewed within, which seldom ceased till the time for
wrangling with the ostlers arrived again, for which a scold to the last
turnpike keeper, for the badness of the roads, in proportion to the high
tolls, served as a prelude. However, they at last reached Holyhead: as
Adelaide skipped into the inn, overjoyed to be comparatively at liberty,
she exclaimed, in thought, "Thank goodness, so much of my Purgatory is
over! Why Webberly House was Heaven to this! However we shall travel
only a small portion of the time I am to spend in penance for my
sins.--They will all be sea-sick to-morrow, and then I shall have a few
hours' peace."