The introduction of Miss Wetheral produced an immense sensation in
Wetheral Castle. Nothing could exceed Lady Wetheral's delight in the
confusion of selecting becoming articles of dress. How great was her
pride of heart, her smile of triumph, as she gazed upon Anna Maria in
her gay apparel, preparing for her first _entrée_ into public! Yet, the
occasion was melancholy, and ill-suited to be the chosen hour to launch
youth and beauty upon the ocean of life.
It was at an assize-ball, at Shrewsbury, then the metropolis of the
north midland counties, where Miss Wetheral burst upon the astonished
sight. When the wretched felon, under sentence of death, lay
languishing in his cell, awaiting the approaching hour of execution;
while the clergyman was speaking hope to the soul, and leading the
despairing heart to rest for forgiveness on the mercy and sufferings
of its Redeemer; then did the irons which bound his trembling hands
vibrate to the roar of carriages which rolled rapidly and furiously to
the scene of festivity. Then did the neighbouring country pour forth
her highest and loveliest; and the moans of repentant sinners, on
the verge of ascending the scaffold, were forgotten in the brilliant
throng, and lost in the lively repartee, or well-turned compliment.
The assize-ball was then the arena for debutants; the one green spot
which decorated the dullness of a long twelvemonth; the hope, the
anxiety of hundreds. That ill-judged hour for gaiety is now consigned
to silence. The march of intellect has trodden down _that_ unholy
practice, and given an outward semblance, at least, of better feelings.
It is assuredly better taste.
It was a proud moment when Anna Maria visited the nursery, to display
her first ball dress, and receive expressions of wonder and delight
at her appearance. The sisters broke from their romps to examine the
ornaments which glittered on her neck; and a row of maid-servants, who
were introduced into the nursery to see Miss Wetheral, curtseyed in
profound admiration. She was indeed a creature to be gazed at. Isabel
received an incurable wound upon her peace from the interview, and
never more returned to her once happy games of puss in the corner.
Anna Maria was but one year her senior, yet she was dressed in muslin
and satin, wore a diamond necklace, and had been to the assize-ball.
Why could not she also partake in such delights? Why was she to play
with her sisters in the nursery, while Anna Maria was dancing at
assize-balls?
Lady Wetheral tried to argue Isabel into docility, but her mind could
not perceive the sense of her parent's reasoning. "My dear child, your
sister will soon marry, and then you will appear in her place. You know
nothing is so inconvenient as having two daughters out at the same
time. While gentlemen are disputing which is the best looking, the
young ladies lose their novelty, and cannot expect to marry well."
"But, mamma, I don't want to marry; I want to dance, and look as
handsomely-dressed as Anna Maria did at the assize-ball."
"Nonsense, Isabel! you are as pertinacious as your father, and just
as blind. Wait till your sister is married, and she will introduce
you. Perhaps next year may produce wonders; your sister is exceedingly
admired."
"So she _may_ be, while I am out. I shall not interfere with her, you
know, for I shall be dancing all the time."
"I cannot argue with such a limited intellect as you appear to possess,
Isabel. I have made my arrangements, and cannot break through them.
You will appear when your sister is Mrs. Pynsent. Tom Pynsent was very
attentive to Anna Maria at the ball."
"Then I'll beg Tom Pynsent to make haste, I declare!" exclaimed Isabel.
"Do not be vulgar and unladylike, Isabel, and promise me you will make
no coarse allusions to Tom Pynsent. I should be extremely shocked
at such a line of conduct. I do not absolutely say Anna Maria _will_
secure Tom, but I trust and hope such an event is in fruition; and if
so, you shall immediately be brought forward. Two girls out at once is
folly."
Isabel was nothing daunted by her mother's objection; and she returned
openly and constantly to the attack, which soon exhausted the few
efficient reasons urged by her antagonist. An incident at once decided
the propriety of stopping the mouth of an alarming witness, and put
an end to further discussion. Isabel was allowed to descend into the
drawing-room, after Anna Maria's début, as Lady Wetheral observed
it would prove a judicious step towards giving her manner its first
polish; and the transition from the nursery to the trials of society
would be less felt by a gradual initiation into its forms.
Isabel was not to converse, or offer an opinion, upon any subject;
she was not in any wise to infringe upon her sister's prerogative, or
draw attention towards herself; but she was to observe silently the
proprieties of life--to learn by close attention the observances, the
graceful bend of reception, the easy flow of local conversation, and
the thousand agreeable nothings comprised in receiving company. Upon
all this was Isabel to meditate; but no silly compliment offered by a
young man was to be understood or replied to by herself; no gracious
invitation was to be accepted, no remark whatsoever was to induce her
to put herself forward. Upon these hard terms, Isabel was received in
her mother's apartments; and she endured the sight of her "senior by
only one year," receiving the crowds which frequented Wetheral Castle,
dressed with elegance, admired, courted, and surrounded with flattery
in all its proteus forms.
Isabel long suffered the keen feelings of envy to war in her heart;
not envy towards Anna Maria, whom she equally admired and loved--but
envy of that state which she longed ardently to partake. In one hapless
hour, Isabel forgot her vow of silence, and spoke, as most backward
young ladies _will_ speak, when pressed beyond endurance, most rashly
and unadvisedly. Lady Spottiswoode and her daughter had been long
dilating on the forthcoming races, and the full ordinary and ball which
every one anticipated, when Miss Spottiswoode, turning to Isabel, asked
when they should have the pleasure of including her among the gay
young ladies. Isabel, thrown off her guard by the question, instantly
replied, colouring with her earnest feelings--
"Oh! Miss Spottiswoode, I hope I shall soon be out; but it depends
upon Anna Maria's marrying Tom Pynsent." Lady Wetheral for one instant
completely lost her self-possession. Sir John laughed aloud. The
Spottiswoodes were too delicate to take notice of the remark. They rose
and examined some portfolios of prints which lay upon the table, and
endeavoured to change the current of thought, by again dwelling upon
the ordinary and race-ball; but the shock was too severely felt to be
easily overcome. There was a painful silence, and the Spottiswoodes
kindly took their leave.
"There!" said Lady Wetheral, applying the vinaigrette to her nose,
"Lady Spottiswoode is gone to report my arrangements to the world,
and Isabel's stupid folly has occasioned it. Did I not insist upon her
silence?"
"You should have taught your girls discretion, Gertrude," replied
Sir John, "by being discreet yourself. Why did you commit your
arrangements, as you call them, to the keeping of a child who is
suffering under them? You should teach them to practise the art of
speaking, before you thrust your children headlong from the nursery
into company. You are rightly served: this will prevent all future
mistakes."
"You may say what you please, Sir John; I cannot exhaust myself by
arguing with such very limited ideas. I am very ill, and extremely
shocked at Isabel's conduct: pray let her attend the race-ball, or do
what she likes: I am unequal to combat determined obstinacy."
"May I go to the race-ball, then? Shall I go out with Anna Maria,
and see her admired, and dance myself for hours together?" exclaimed
Isabel, throwing herself on her knees in a transport.
"Go just where you like," replied her mother, languidly; "you will be
stupid and vulgar whenever you emerge, therefore time or place is a
matter of little moment. Take your own way, for my authority is quite
set aside."
Up rose Isabel, attentive only to the words which pronounced her
release, and, bounding round the room, careless of remark, she rushed
upstairs to make known her triumph.
"Thompson, Thompson! I am going to the race-ball in July. I am to go
out with Anna Maria, and dance like mad! here goes!"
And Isabel began dancing round the nursery in the wildest spirits,
imitating, to the best of her ability, Anna Maria's elegant manner and
step.
Thus was Lady Wetheral a second time defeated in the nearest wish
of her heart; but her resentment only extended to keeping her bed
for two days, during which she complained to Thompson of illness and
excessively shocked feelings. On the third day, she was eagerly and
agreeably employed in selecting a proper wardrobe for Isabel.
There could not be a more striking contrast than that which was
displayed in the person and manners of the two elder sisters, and
their effect upon society was equally distinct. Anna Maria concealed
an irritable temper under an exterior peculiarly elegant, and manners
strikingly gentle and fascinating: her popularity, therefore, was
great, and her steps attended by admirers of both sex, who were
drawn towards her by the force of extreme sweetness of manner. All
men toasted the lovely Miss Wetheral, and all women confessed she
was agreeable as she was charming, yet Anna Maria passed on her way
without receiving offers from one sex, or forming a friendship with an
individual of the other.
Isabel's artless high spirits and warm heart was, on the other hand,
misunderstood, and few did her justice in public. She danced too much,
and laughed too loud, and gentlemen sought her often as an agreeable
relief from the refined insipidity of her companions, which told
against her in society. Lady Wetheral cautioned her in vain.
"I wish, Isabel, you would not jump so high, and look so pleased with
your partners; it is quite inelegant, and will make you disliked. No
other young lady looks pleased, and the gentlemen get grinning and
talking round you, to the exclusion of your sister and many others.
Pray refrain."
"It is my nature to be happy," replied Isabel, laughing, "and my
friends may out-talk me if they like. I only desire to chat and enjoy
myself in peace."
"For shame, Isabel! you are not aware how you create enemies by such
conduct. I was ashamed to see you racing down the middle and up again,
with Tom Pynsent, at Lady Spottiswoode's carpet-dance. A young lady
should never engross a gentleman's attention so conspicuously."
"Tom Pynsent amused me extremely, mamma: he was telling college
stories, and off we capered without caring who remarked us."
"You are remarkably vulgar and underbred, my dear," resumed her mother,
"and I have no hopes of your establishment. I am very much surprised
at Anna Maria's beauty failing to elicit an offer; perhaps Julia may
do better when she appears, but my hopes chiefly rest upon Clara. Her
style of beauty is very magnificent."
Isabel's happy disposition received these shocks with inimitable good
humour. She listened to daily remarks upon her want of elegance,
and believed in her total exemption from the gifts which Nature had
lavished upon her elder sister; but her mind scorned the idea of
mourning over a useless grief. She cared not for extraneous advantages
which could not reach the mind: she never entered a ball-room without
a profusion of dancing engagements; and if she was liked and followed,
even in the presence of her handsome sister, what did she care for mere
beauty?
Lady Wetheral at last yielded the point, and allowed Isabel to choose
her own mode of pleasing. Her taste turned with horror from her
"unfortunate Isabel," but she ceased to look at, or remark upon, her
_brusquerie_. She told Thompson, "some men took odd fancies to healthy,
fat-looking, smiling girls, and probably Isabel might please some old
rich widower or stupid retired bachelor, and marry at last: she would
be a foil to her sisters, at any rate."
Lady Wetheral was right: an odd, "retired bachelor" did admire Isabel
precisely for her healthy, good-humoured looks; and, in process of
time, he advanced, slowly and cautiously, to the attack; but his manner
concealed the matter long to all eyes but those of her father. Lady
Wetheral was blind to the very _dénouement_.
"I can't imagine why that tiresome old Boscawen comes here every other
morning, Sir John, sitting for hours and saying nothing: pray don't ask
him to stay dinner again--he makes me ill."
"He is a great friend of mine, Gertrude: I like Boscawen."
"I know you like unaccountable people, love; but he worries _me_ to
death, and he will sit at dinner between Anna Maria and Isabel. I don't
consider Isabel, but he keeps Tom Pynsent away from Anna Maria, and
never enters into any sort of conversation."
"He thinks more than he says, my dear."
"I hate people who think: thinking makes every thing worse: luckily, I
have quite given up thinking about Isabel, or her loud laugh would kill
me."
"Boscawen does not object to Isabel's joyous laugh, Gertrude; he hopes
to hear it in perpetuity."
"I wish he would take her to himself, then," replied his lady, gently
yawning, and taking up a novel.
"Boscawen has proposed for Isabel," said Sir John, seriously.
"How can you talk such nonsense, Sir John! if the old man proposes to
any body, it will certainly be to Anna Maria. I saw he admired her
exceedingly--so does every body: she is very captivating."
"Boscawen has proposed for Isabel, however," he returned; "and though
he is too advanced in years for a young girl's speculation, yet, if
she could fancy him, I think she might be happy. I wish you to speak
to your daughter upon the subject, Gertrude. If she has the slightest
disinclination to Boscawen, do not mention him a second time: I will
not allow her to be talked into matrimony."
"Then, talk to her yourself, Sir John. I am quite overpowered by the
surprise. I was so certain Boscawen admired Anna Maria; but since he
has the bad taste to prefer Isabel, she ought not to demur an instant.
Boscawen is very rich, and I dare say he will act very handsomely as to
settlements. When old men marry young wives, they ought to pay for the
distinction. Isabel will be very foolish if she declines him."
Anna Maria at this moment appeared at the door, and Lady Wetheral's
ideas excursed at the sight of her beautiful daughter, still so
admired, yet unsought.
"Well, my dear, I am glad you are come at this moment; here is Mr.
Boscawen proposing for Isabel, and no one asks for you: I can't
understand it. Perhaps, my love, if _you_ chatted a _little_ more--but
you must 'take' in time. Old Boscawen is no great things, only he is so
rich; there is no saying when Isabel may be a gay widow."
"Does my sister accept Mr. Boscawen?" asked Anna Maria, in dulcet
tones, without replying to her mother's hints.
"She will do so, if she has common sense; but we have sent for her.
Your father is to talk to her."
Isabel obeyed the summons, which prayed for her appearance in Lady
Wetheral's _boudoir_. She entered laughing.
"I am sure I know the reason of your summons, papa. Mr. Boscawen has
written to you."
"And you will not be so mad as to refuse such an excellent
establishment," cried her mother, earnestly.
"Stay, Gertrude; I will not allow Isabel to be influenced."
"He can make any settlement you please, Isabel," continued her mother.
"Gertrude----"
"He is old and ugly, Isabel"--Lady Wetheral rose unconsciously from the
sofa in her energy, perfectly deaf to her husband's call to order--"he
is old and ugly; but no girl in her senses would refuse such an
establishment. You cannot stake a handsome face against a fortune,
which will purchase all a woman prizes most. You will be respectable
and enviable, for you will command every thing that is covetable in
this world!"
Sir John was distressed and indignant at the sentiment conveyed in
his lady's discourse; but he knew it was vain to contend with a mind
anchored upon the world. He turned to Isabel.
"I wish to know, my love, if Mr. Boscawen's offer is disagreeable to
you. If you reject his suit, _I_ will take care he shall not offend
again."
Lady Wetheral fixed her eyes with intense anxiety upon Isabel, who
promptly replied the offer had been made with her knowledge and
concurrence.
"My dear Isabel, I thought you would not overlook such advantages,"
cried her ladyship, embracing her daughter with unfeigned delight.
"Isabel," said her father, "you wish to marry Mr. Boscawen?"
"Indeed, papa, I do."
"You wish to quit your home, my love, and live altogether with Mr.
Boscawen?"
"Yes, indeed, I do, papa."
"Are you aware, Isabel, that in marrying Mr. Boscawen you must become
steady and obedient, and submit to his wishes and views?"
"Perfectly, papa."
"Are you aware, my love, that when you have become a wife, you must
quit home for ever, and remain with Mr. Boscawen at Brierly, to nurse
him in sickness, and console him in sorrow?"
"Oh, yes, papa, I know all that perfectly; and I shall like very much
to nurse Mr. Boscawen, he is so good-tempered."
"Yet, listen to me, Isabel, I have much to say," and her father's
countenance and manner became impressively serious. "You are too young
to understand the solemn vows you must make at the altar. I know
Boscawen is a good man, or I should not have listened to his offer when
he proposed for a girl young enough to be his daughter. You must have
given him great encouragement, Isabel."
"Oh yes, papa, I _did_. I told him I would be sure to be his wife, if
you had no objection, and I hope you do not mean to prevent it."
Lady Wetheral became indignant at her husband's serious view of
matrimony, and she had recourse to her vinaigrette, as usual, upon
exciting subjects.
"I cannot imagine, Sir John, why you should endeavour to make doubts
for Isabel, when such an offer may never occur again--certainly not to
Isabel, who has so little appearance. It quite provokes me to hear you
raising difficulties about a nonsensical affair of marriage. Isabel
will marry like other girls, and get on like other people."
"I do not wish my daughter to marry like other girls, Gertrude. I wish
Isabel to be happy and respected."
"And who will deny her being very happy, Sir John, when she has every
luxury her mind can invent; and who denies a woman's respectability
when she is rich and well connected? Nonsense, my dear."
"We never agree in sentiment, Gertrude," said her husband, gravely.
"How can I see things, love, in the strange light you represent them?
My mother never read _me_ such lectures as you preach to Isabel, and
I was scarcely her age when I married. I was congratulated on my good
fortune, and you know we both drove immediately to Hamlet's. Pray let
Isabel enjoy herself."
"Oh pray, papa, let me have Mr. Boscawen," cried Isabel, clasping her
hands as the tears burst from her dark, blue eyes. "Do not say I am
not to have Mr. Boscawen! and he has ordered me a tilbury cloak upon
the certainty of my accepting him; it is to have a leopard's claw as a
fastening round my throat! Oh papa, papa!"
"I have not uttered a word about refusing Mr. Boscawen, my love."
"Oh, thank you, papa, thank you!" and Isabel flew to embrace her
father. "My own good papa, not to make me miserable!"
"You would be unhappy, then, if I declined Mr. Boscawen, Isabel?"
"Oh, papa, wretched!--the cloak too of no use, and I had so set my
heart upon the leopard's claw!"
"A small 'forget-me-not' would have been in better taste, Isabel,"
observed her mother.
"No, I particularly admire the leopard's claw, because Mr. Boscawen
liked it. And then, papa, we are to drive in his tilbury, and I am
to have a fur cap with a tassel, and choose it myself--I shall be so
happy!"
There was nothing more to be said. Isabel looked upon every thing
connected with Mr. Boscawen _en couleur de rose_, and her imagination
pictured Brierly as a home of enchantment. She believed her days were
to glide away among rural sports and in juvenile assemblies--the summer
would be dedicated to haymaking and gathering roses--the winter would
be a continuity of music and dancing. If her father's remarks chased
the smile from her lips, as he alluded to scenes of duty and the cares
of a family, they were speedily recalled by Lady Wetheral's enumeration
of the comforts which must attach to her situation.
"My dear Isabel, your father alarms you; but, trust me, there is
nothing alarming in matrimony. You will have a large settlement, and a
handsome allowance, therefore every thing will go smoothly. If you have
a family, it won't much inconvenience you. Shut out the nurseries with
baize doors, and you will be free from noise. I managed very well, for
sometimes I did not see or hear you children for weeks."
Mr. Boscawen was admitted as an accepted lover, and Isabel did not
regret her acceptance of a man who listened with admiration and
interest to her remarks, and who never turned from her _brusquerie_
with the disgust her mother could not conceal towards her. Mr. Boscawen
at five and forty looked with delight upon Isabel, whose extreme youth
and beauty threw a halo around her uneducated mind. Her rich and joyous
laugh pleased the taciturn nature of his mind; he was charmed by her
innocence, and untired by her ceaseless prattle; therefore was Mr.
Boscawen her constant and loved companion, whom her eye sought in all
companies and at all moments, and to whom her inmost thoughts were
communicated. She loved to hang upon his arm, and take long walks with
her darling Boscawen; she delighted to drive his tilbury, and exhibit
the cloak of long promise--to chat freely, and, as she expressed it in
confidence to Julia, to rattle away about nothing, and be just as much
admired, as though she spoke sense, like Anna Maria.
Isabel's wedding-day was to herself a day of extravagant enjoyment
and agreeable confusion. She was going to a home of her own--to be
called in future "Mrs. Boscawen," and to receive the compliments
of the bridal-party. There was a large company to breakfast, and
the Spottiswoodes were of the chosen number who had the pleasure of
congratulating Isabel upon her magnificent prospects. Isabel thanked
Miss Spottiswoode for her friendly wishes.
"Now, I am married, dear Sophy, I wish you were all going to do the
same thing. I should so have liked four or five weddings at once! but
you will all come and see me, and we will have such merriment; won't
we, Mr. Boscawen?"
Mr. Boscawen bowed smilingly to Isabel's appeal, and she proceeded--
"I will drive you all in the tilbury, when you come to Brierly; it
holds only Mr. Boscawen and myself now, but I dare say we can squeeze
four. Mr. Boscawen is very stout, and his coat covers an acre of
ground; doesn't it, Mr. Boscawen?"
Lady Wetheral became visibly uneasy at Isabel's loquacity, and
endeavoured to change the subject; but Mrs. Boscawen was too happy
and too unsuspecting to observe a hint, or detect a look; her heart
was full of hope, and revelling in novel situations. She talked on,
inviting every body to Brierly, and appealing to Mr. Boscawen if he
would not be delighted to have his house as full as it could hold. The
bridal carriage drawing to the door relieved Lady Wetheral's distress.
At the parting moment, Isabel preserved her serenity, while her
sisters wept over the kind-hearted companion they were now to
lose. Isabel's gentleness of temper, her buoyant spirits, and warm
affections, endeared her to all her family-circle, and they doubly
valued her excellence when her society was on the eve of being
withdrawn for ever. Isabel smiled as radiantly as usual under the
repeated embraces of her weeping sisters, and cheered their grief.
"My dear girls, you see I am married, and, as mamma says, I can do what
I like, I mean to have each of you with me in turn, so pray do not
cry. Julia, you will come first, and we will have such fun, haymaking!
shan't we, Mr. Boscawen? And Clara, when _you_ come to me, we will
gallop over the country on ponies; won't we, Mr. Boscawen?"
Mr. Boscawen kissed Isabel's hand without reply, and her father led her
to her carriage. The new equipage struck her eye.
"Oh, mamma! how you will delight in my carriage! It's quite my own; is
it not, Mr. Boscawen? When you come to Brierly, we will drive about
all day. You know you said it would be the best part of the show."
Mr. Boscawen had never approved Lady Wetheral's sentiments, and
rarely entered into conversation with her. Isabel's observation had
its effect; he bowed very coolly to her ladyship, and ordered the
postillions to drive on. The carriage was soon lost in the distance.
Lady Wetheral was disconcerted at Isabel's unfortunate speech, and she
remarked upon it in passing from the colonnade into the breakfast-room.
"Isabel has married much better than I anticipated; but nothing will
heal her dreadful propensity to make remarks in the wrong place, and
repeat observations improperly. This unladylike want of caution will
ruin her reputation as a woman of fashion, but she is no longer 'Miss
Wetheral.' Isabel is now Mrs Boscawen."