The next day being Sunday, Lady St. Aubyn, attired in the most elegant
undress, and attended by the Earl, made her appearance at the church:
the expensive lace veil which shaded her fair face, and hung loosely
below her waist, prevented the gazing of those around her from being
too oppressive. The neighbouring families certainly had heard that Lord
St. Aubyn had married a young person of a rank in life much inferior to
his own, for secretly as every thing had been conducted, as no one could
tell the name or family of his bride, such, at least, were the
conjectures of those who knew him; yet, in spite of the prejudices which
had been excited against her, the elegance of her form, and the modest
composure of her demeanour, in a great measure overcame it, and all who
were entitled, by their situation in life, to visit at the Castle,
determined to do so; some prompted by mere curiosity, and some by less
unworthy motives. The three or four following days, therefore, brought
Ellen many visitors, and her own intuitive sense of propriety, added to
the few general directions St. Aubyn had given her, and with the
advantageous support his respectful attention gave her, prevented her
appearing at all awkward; and these visits, which she had so greatly
dreaded, passed over with less pain than she had expected.
Amongst their first visitors were Sir William and Miss Cecil; the former
of whom was a mere common-place character, whom, if you did not happen
to see for sometime, you would be apt to forget you had ever seen at
all; but the fine countenance of Laura, her expressive features, and the
bright black eyes which animated them, charmed Ellen, who had never seen
any woman before so pleasing: yet Laura was not strictly beautiful, and
at this time the lustre of her fine eyes was dimmed by the melancholy
which pervaded her mind, for she said her little invalid was so much
indisposed, and so weak, she would not have left her to go any where
else; but she wished so very much to be introduced to Lady St. Aubyn she
could not resist the temptation.
The very elegant manner in which she spoke, the clearness of her
articulation, and sweetness of her voice, were strikingly agreeable; and
St. Aubyn afterwards said that a few years before she had a gaiety of
manner, enlivened by wit of a superior nature, with so much playfulness
of expression, that by many people she was considered as merely a lively
girl, and a little satirical; but time and misfortune had softened what
at times might have been too severe in her opinions, had improved and
mellowed her fine judgment, and given a pensive sweetness to her
manners, which was occasionally relieved by flashes of her former gaiety
and ready repartee. St. Aubyn shewed her a particular and most
respectful attention, and told Ellen she would be charmed with Miss
Cecil's drawings, which were the very finest he ever saw, except from
the hands of a professed artist. He then, with a smile, addressed a few
words to Laura in an undertone, to which she replied: "Oh, pray, my
Lord, do not expose my juvenile follies: I might have done such things
when we were mere children together, but I hope you think me wiser now!"
"The world," said he, "has perhaps made us both graver since the days
you speak of; and that, in the eyes of many, will doubtless give us
credit for an increase of wisdom; but believe me, my fair friend, I have
lost so little of the romance of youth (if such you choose to term it),
that I must hope you do not neglect the pleasing talent to which I
alluded, and of which you must allow Lady St. Aubyn to judge: I assure
you she has a great taste for poetry, and perhaps one day or other may
follow your example, and court the Muses in her turn."
"Ah, my Lord!" said Laura, smiling and colouring: "I see you are
determined not to keep my secret." "Tell me, Ellen," said St. Aubyn,
"can you see any reason why Miss Cecil should wish to make a secret of
her having succeeded very happily in some elegant little poetical
compositions?" "No, indeed," replied Ellen: "it surely is a gift to be
rather proud than ashamed of." "Ah, my dear Lady St. Aubyn, if you could
conceive the illiberal prejudice of some minds, you would not wonder at
my dislike to having these trifling attempts spoken of. A lady I knew,
who was eminently gifted in that way, and indeed an excellent
prose-writer also, was, from circumstances, obliged to be less
scrupulous than I have been; and if you could have heard the things I
have witnessed, when she entered or left a room, you would be amazed:
while she, gentle, unassuming, and even timid, judging candidly of every
one, unwilling to see faults, and detesting personal satire, had not the
most remote idea of the severe and uncandid remarks she excited."
Ellen was really astonished at this account, as much as she was pleased
with the spirit and grace with which it was delivered; and St. Aubyn
said to her with an expressive smile, "You see, Ellen, our friend Ross
had more reason than we were willing to allow him for _certain
prohibitions_. However," added he, "I will not relinquish the hope that
Miss Cecil will soon see how little she has to fear from any
observations of such a nature from _you_." "I see it already," said Miss
Cecil with quickness: "one glance at Lady St. Aubyn would convince the
most incredulous that nothing but sweetness and candour can lodge in
such a temple."
She then looked at her watch, and saying she had much exceeded her time,
and Juliet would expect her, departed with her father, who had been
deeply engaged in giving Doctor Montague a long account of a
county-meeting, which had been held for some public purpose a few days
before. They had scarcely driven from the door, when Miss Alton was
announced; and as she entered, St. Aubyn whispered to Ellen--"Now you
will see a character quite new to you." Then rising hastily, he crossed
the room to meet the lady, exclaiming, "Heavens! my dear Miss Alton, how
enchanted I am to see you look so well! You really improve every day, at
least every year: for I believe it is at least that time since I saw you
last." "Oh, my Lord," answered the lady in an affected tone, but in a
voice the natural sharpness of which all her efforts failed to soften;
"you flatter--don't try to make me vain. Lord bless me, you men have no
mercy on us poor young women: but will you not introduce me to your
Lady?"
Ellen, who at the distance from whence she had first seen this visitor
imagined that she really was young and handsome, was astonished as she
approached, to find in the white frock, sash, ringlets, and little
straw hat of a girl, a woman apparently between fifty and sixty; and who
vainly attempted to conceal, by a quantity of _rouge_ and a slight veil
thrown over her face, the ravages which time had made in her
countenance. Her spare figure gave her some resemblance to youthful
slightness; but when near, the sharp bones, and angular projections of
her face and person, sufficiently proved, that slender appearance was
the result of lean old age, instead of girlish delicacy. In spite of the
advanced season, she was clad so lightly, that she still shivered from
the impression of the keen breeze which had assailed her as she crossed
the Park, and gladly accepted a seat by the comfortable fire, though
affecting to conceal her sufferings under an air of gaiety and ease.
St. Aubyn (who had known her many years, and had been from a boy
accustomed to divert himself with her foibles, though he really felt a
degree of regard for her, as, in spite of her oddities, she was not
without a mixture of good qualities), after having introduced her to his
bride, seated himself by her, and began to talk to her in a strain of
such marked flattery, as really alarmed Ellen, who thought Miss Alton
would certainly be offended; but her enormous vanity prevented her from
perceiving that he was merely laughing at her, and she grew every moment
more ridiculous. At last, turning to Ellen, she said in a pathetic tone,
"Oh, my dear Madam, you cannot conceive how I have felt for you these
two days! I declare I have not been able to sleep for thinking of you,
and really have shed tears to imagine what a tax you have been paying:
how you must have been fatigued by receiving such a succession of
visitors! but every one must have some trouble. There is my dear friend,
Mrs. Dawkins, the best of women--sweet woman, indeed--there she is
lamenting at home such a vexation!" "What is the matter?" said St.
Aubyn, laughing, for he knew what sort of misfortunes Mrs. Dawkins and
her friend Miss Alton generally lamented with so much pathos: "has she
lost her little French dog, or has the careless coachman scratched the
pannels of her new carriage?" "Oh, you sad man! how can you make a jest
of the dear soul's uncommon sensibility? To be sure she has the
tenderest feelings. She often says to me, 'my dear Alton, what should I
do without you: you are the only person who can really feel for the
misfortunes of a friend.' Sweet woman!"
"Well, but," said St. Aubyn, "you were going to tell us what has
happened to this _amiable friend_ of your's."
"Nay, I will tell Lady St. Aubyn, she looks all softness and
sensibility: but you are so wicked, you make a jest of every thing. Do
you know, my dearest Lady St. Aubyn, just as poor Mrs. Dawkins was
coming to make you a visit, this morning, nay, she was actually dressed,
and had one foot on the step of the carriage, _I_ was in it, for she was
so kind as to say she would bring me; so I thought, as I was to come
with her, I need not put on a pelisse, or shawl, for you know they spoil
one's dress. But I can't say but that it was rather cold walking, as I
was at last obliged to do, for _just_ as she put her foot upon the
step----" "What happened?" interrupted St. Aubyn, laughing still more at
the emphatic manner in which poor Alton told her distressing
story.--"Did she fall down and break her leg, or did the horses run away
and carry off her kid slipper?"----"Now only hear him; did you ever see
such a teasing creature: well, I am glad _I_ have not the task of
keeping you in order; I don't know what even the sweet Countess will do
with you."
This piece of self-congratulation threw St. Aubyn into a violent fit of
laughing, in which even the grave Doctor Montague joined, and Ellen
could hardly resist, though the fear of quite affronting her guest put a
check upon her risibility.
"Well," said St. Aubyn, at last recovering himself a little, "but what
really did happen to poor Mrs. Dawkins?"
"Nay, I protest I won't tell you, you wicked creature; I will tell Lady
St. Aubyn some other time, for you do not deserve to hear any thing
about it."
"Oh, yes, do, my dear Alton, tell, for really I am in great pain for
poor Mrs. Dawkins, who has been standing so long with one foot upon the
step: don't leave her in so dangerous a situation any longer."----"Well,
then, if I must tell--at that moment up came a servant on horseback, to
say her sister, Mrs. Courtenay, was on the road to her own house, in her
way from Buxton, and would, with a whole train of children and servants,
dine at her house to-day; and as they were coming directly, she was
actually obliged to defer her visit to your Ladyship till to-morrow; and
she was so sorry, and I am sure so was I, for I was obliged to walk here
after all."
"Well, but," said Lord St. Aubyn, "notwithstanding this terrible shock
to her feelings, she might have sent the carriage with _you_."----"Aye,
so she might, to be sure; but poor dear soul, she was put in such a
bustle she never thought of it; some people don't think----dear me, if I
had a carriage of my own, I should be happy to make it useful to my
friends, and not let them go broiling on foot two or three miles in warm
weather or splashing through the mud in the middle of winter."----"I
believe you," said St. Aubyn; for with all her foibles, he knew Miss
Alton was really good-natured, and willing to do a kind action.
"Well, my dear Miss Alton, if you will favour us with your company, and
dine with us, Lady St. Aubyn will, I am sure, be happy to send you home
in her carriage; and I promise you, if the Prince himself was to make us
a visit, that should not prevent your having it."
Ellen joined in this invitation, to which the happy Miss Alton readily
assented; and Ellen found her, after a little while, a more tolerable
companion than she expected.
Miss Alton's particular passion was for being with people who lived in
style; if they had a title so much the better; and as she would do any
thing to make herself useful, and knew how to pay those little
attentions which every body likes, she generally made herself agreeable,
or so necessary, that she had admittance at almost all the houses of
consequence in the neighbourhood. The entre of St. Aubyn Castle was the
height of her ambition. St. Aubyn's mother, who lived much in the
country, had been in the habit of receiving Miss Alton, when she was a
girl, on familiar terms: the old Lady was fond of needle-work, and
Alton assisted in filling up the groundwork of carpets, rugs, &c. with
the most patient good humour; or was at any time ready to make up a
whist or quadrille table; so that in those days she was very often a
week or two together at the Castle, where St. Aubyn, at his vacations,
had been accustomed to meet her, and to divert himself with her foibles,
though he had always retained a degree of regard for her, a felicity
which the death of the old Countess deprived her of, and she had never
since ceased to regret; for though her other connections were
respectable, they were not so high in fortune or consequence as the St.
Aubyns, and great was her joy to find herself once more an invited guest
at the Castle.
Amongst her other friends, as her narrow income by no means permitted
her to return their civilities in kind, she yet was always well
received, for there was nothing she would not do to oblige: one Lady
would send her in her carriage, if not well enough to go herself, to
inquire the character of a servant; another would express a wish, in her
hearing, for some game, or fruit, for a dinner party, and Miss Alton
would set out the next morning "to try her luck," as she termed it, by
calling at some of the higher sort of houses, where she was acquainted,
and _wishing_ she knew where to get a hare, or a pine-apple (according
to which was wanted), "to oblige a friend to whom she owed a great many
favours," the good natured hearer generally, if possible, was willing to
oblige "poor Alton;" or if she did not succeed there, she would tramp a
mile or two farther, and at worst could fairly boast what pains she had
taken, even if they were not successful.
In London, if a notable friend wanted a cheap trimming, or to match a
silk or lace, yet did not like to go about to little shops herself,
Alton would take a hackney coach, or walk if the weather permitted, and
never rest till she had obtained the thing in question.
By these and similar means she had made a great many high acquaintance,
and _eked_ out a small income by visits, sometimes a little too long, to
each in turn.----She had thus acquired some amusing anecdotes, and was
far from an unpleasing companion, especially when no male beings came in
her way; but when with men, vanity and affectation took such full
possession of her, that she became completely ridiculous. This Lady St.
Aubyn had an opportunity of seeing: when two or three gentlemen happened
to call before dinner, her whole manner changed, and she became really
absurd: her voice was softened----her head leant on one shoulder----a
tolerably white hand and arm displayed in every possible attitude, and
she behaved, in every respect, like a very silly affected girl; but when
they were gone, she was again tolerably conversable, and St. Aubyn,
ceasing to play upon her foibles, and turning the conversation to such
topics as were most likely to shew her to advantage, the afternoon and
evening passed pleasantly enough. Nor was St. Aubyn sorry to familiarise
Ellen, by degrees, to company, or to do the honour of his table, before
they should be obliged to receive the neighbouring families at dinner,
many of whom he knew (especially two or three ladies who had unmarried
daughters) would be eagerly looking out for any little omission in her,
while Miss Alton was so delighted with the good things before her
(certainly being _un peu gourmande_) with the beautiful new service of
china, rich plate, &c. &c. that she never thought of her entertainers,
except to express her pleasure in their kindness and attention: and they
sent her home in the evening perfectly happy, and eager to tell dear
Mrs. Dawkins what a delightful day she had spent, how happy the Earl
was to see her, what a _sweet woman_ the Countess was, what fine china!
what a dessert! what an elegant new carriage! &c. &c.