News of any trifling occurrence passes rapidly round a neighbourhood;
but news of bridal import speeds with increased velocity through every
department. It was soon known to every individual in the establishment,
that Mr. Pynsent was accepted by Miss Wetheral, and in less than
twenty-four hours the event was generally current in the higher circles
of the Wetheral acquaintance. Separated as many mansions were from each
other's observation by large intermediate property, it was wonderful
how the intelligence could gain such powerful progress, yet it was
publicly spoken of as an assured fact the following evening at Lady
Spottiswoode's; and Lady Wetheral's extraordinary good fortune was
canvassed in every particular.
Mrs. Pynsent's publicly-expressed disapprobation of a daughter-in-law
from Wetheral, was commented upon with eagerness, and many anxious
friends of both parties looked with mingled curiosity and amusement to
the effects likely to emanate from Hatton. Miss Wycherly consented to
escort a party upon a congratulatory mission to her aunt Pynsent, and
she undertook to drive Lady Spottiswoode and her daughter to Hatton,
accompanied by the two Mr. Tyndals.
It was an evil day to Miss Wycherly. Ever since the eventful
ball, which produced the present cause of her intended visit, Mr.
Spottiswoode had never renewed the subject which she had treated
so lightly, or sought her society, his once constant anxiety and
invariable daily practice. Since that eventful ball, so happy in its
results to one party, so gloomy in its termination to herself--since
that night, when her rash spirits tempted her to jest with her lover's
serious wish to understand her sentiments, had Mr. Spottiswoode been
a stranger to Lidham; and most rashly had Miss Wycherly persevered
in flirting with Mr. Henry Tyndal, to evince her indifference to Mr.
Spottiswoode's prolonged absence, and to bring down upon herself,
ultimately, the reproach of having given encouragement to Henry Tyndal
ungenerously and dishonourably. Her present state of mind towards Mr.
Spottiswoode was unchangeable affection, such as it had ever felt
towards him; and such as she felt assured must ever exist there, though
her own lips had made a breach between them, by trifling with his
long-expressed affection.
Miss Wycherly felt aware that she had drawn down upon herself the
offended feelings of an injured man, who had borne all her caprice
with patient endurance; she felt, too, that there was a point when
that endurance must and would burst from its fetters, and assert its
freedom. Mr. Spottiswoode's spirit might bear with a certain degree
of flippancy; but he would not endure to become a woman's toy, to
become a thing, which the woman he loved could dare to throw from
her in caprice, and recall at will. Such, Miss Wycherly knew, was
not the nature of _his_ love, whom her heart pined to recover. But
her pride--the pride of a woman unwilling to bend her spirit in
acknowledgment of error--persisted in allowing Henry Tyndal to attend
her in public; and its false reasoning forbade her to appear wounded
by the consequences of her fault. Miss Wycherly could only trust to
circumstances for assistance in developing the real intentions of her
offended lover; and, in making an appointment with Lady Spottiswoode,
she trusted events might concur to restore her again into her son's
favour, and dispel the cloud which separated them.
In this frame of mind, and with this hope, to spread flowers on her
path, Miss Wycherly drove her four beautiful bays into Shrewsbury, and
drew up before Lady Spottiswoode's house. Mr. Spottiswoode, accompanied
by the Tyndals, appeared at the hall-door to receive her; and Mr.
Spottiswoode politely, but with reserve of voice and manner, expressed
Lady Spottiswoode's hope that she would take refreshment before they
proceeded to Hatton. This was Miss Wycherly's first meeting with
her lover, since the misunderstanding which had taken place at Lady
Spottiswoode's ball; and her heart felt and sunk under the changed
expression of his voice and manner. She gave her reins to the groom,
and prepared to obey Lady Spottiswoode's request. Mr. Henry Tyndal
went forward with his brother to offer their assistance, while Mr.
Spottiswoode remained on the steps, as a person who conceived that all
required attention on his part, was effected in the delivery of his
mother's message. Miss Wycherly declined Mr. Henry Tyndal's offered
hand, and reseated herself with feelings of mingled mortification
and indignation. Nothing now could persuade her to descend from the
barouche-box.
"Have the goodness, Mr. Tyndal, to make my excuses to Lady
Spottiswoode. I rarely quit my throne, when once exalted, and she will
allow of my apology. Insist upon herself and Miss Spottiswoode taking
their own time. I am not in any hurry."
It appeared as though Mr. Spottiswoode had cheerfully and for ever
surrendered her to Mr. Tyndal's attentions, for he spoke in an
undertone to the young men, and returned into the house.
"Very kind fellow," cried Henry Tyndal; "he has gone himself with your
message, so I can stay and admire your set out, and yourself. Upon my
soul, your habit sits beautifully, doesn't it, John?"
"I begged _you_ to deliver my message," replied Miss Wycherly, offended
and distressed at her lover's action. "I desired _you_, Mr. Tyndal, to
deliver my message, not Mr. Spottiswoode."
Henry Tyndal misunderstood, and was flattered by Miss Wycherly's
reproof. It was clear enough to his comprehension she was angry with
Spottiswoode for presuming to take a message which had been delegated
to himself as her regular and encouraged attendant.
"Oh, well! never mind for once, Miss Wycherly; I thought Spottiswoode
was very anxious to go, or he should not have taken my place, I promise
you. No, no, poor fellow! he was off before I knew what he was about.
Upon my soul, your horses are magnificent."
Miss Wycherly did not hear Mr. Tyndal's observation; her attention was
given exclusively and painfully to the hall-door, which remained open.
Lady Spottiswoode and her daughter appeared.
"My dear Miss Wycherly, you are patience itself," exclaimed both ladies.
"I never descend from my altitude," replied Miss Wycherly; "but you
look forsaken without a beau of some sort; if your son would like to
take a seat, Lady Spottiswoode, there is one to spare."
"Charles said he meant to call at Hatton," said Miss Spottiswoode, "and
I dare say it would really be an accommodation, unless this is the day
he promised to ride over to the Farnboroughs. Mr. Tyndal, before you
mount your horse, just tell Charles here is room for him, by Miss
Wycherly's permission--beg pardon for the trouble."
Mr. Henry Tyndal sprang from his horse, and proceeded to obey her
request. Miss Wycherly gathered up the reins, but her hands trembled
with anxious curiosity to ascertain the effect of the summons. Mr.
Henry Tyndal returned alone.
"Spottiswoode says he is going to Hatton, but he is engaged to ride
there with the Farnborough party. It has been an appointment of some
days' standing, he says, therefore he cannot come; here he is to answer
for himself."
Mr. Charles Spottiswoode appeared equipped for riding, but he excused
himself to Miss Wycherly with much politeness--a style of manner so
wounding to its object, so unbearably irritating to a self-upbraiding,
yet proud, spirit. The colour rose in Miss Wycherly's face.
"I am engaged to ride to Hatton with Lord Farnborough and his
daughter," proceeded Mr. Spottiswoode: "Lady Anna commanded me to
attend her some time ago, and her ladyship never fails her word,
therefore I must not allow her to upbraid me with the most offensive of
all failings, that of deceiving expectations. Sophy, you are all the
colours of the rainbow."
"Never mind, Charles," replied Miss Spottiswoode, smiling
good-naturedly at the remark; "if I mix pink and green too strongly for
your taste, pray remonstrate with Lady Anna Herbert; she wears _three_
colours; perhaps your opinion may have some weight with her. I am, you
know, incorrigible."
"Will Lady Anna possess more sense than her sex?" asked Mr.
Spottiswoode. "Will she relinquish three favourite tints to please?"
"To please _you_, Charles, I dare say Lady Anna would renounce her
darling colours--purple, yellow, and green. Can my dear pink and green
be half so _prononcée_? Miss Wycherly, do speak for me! Charles always
upholds Lady Anna's frightful combination."
"I have not upheld Lady Anna, Sophy."
"Yes, you always do, Charles. Every thing is Lady Anna now."
Miss Wycherly's spirit could endure no more; she turned to Lady
Spottiswoode.
"We are embarked in this undertaking, and time is precious. If Sophy
has settled her interesting topic, may I proceed to Hatton? Mr. Tyndal,
Mr. Henry Tyndal, you must not lose sight of us; shall we proceed?"
The lady was perfectly ready to resign the conversation; the Mr.
Tyndals were already mounted, and Mr. Spottiswoode bowed his adieu.
Miss Wycherly would not appear mortified and unhappy; she returned
her lover's salutation with a bow and smile, which equalled his own
in apparent indifference; and the party were quickly on their road.
Miss Wycherly, as charioteer, had full occupation for her attention,
and she was silent during the drive: her heart was heavy; and the fear
of having lost Spottiswoode's affection weighed down her spirits and
produced a mortal sorrow. Such was the consequence of a fault persisted
in, because a false pride could not endure to own its transgression!
Such was the suffering produced by a heart resolute to lose the man
beloved, ere it would bend to acknowledge its weakness!
Miss Wycherly forgot, in her own misery, the amusement she contemplated
in observing her aunt Pynsent's conduct, when she received the visits
of congratulation upon her son's intended marriage. In her misery,
also, she did not immediately perceive Tom Pynsent and Miss Wetheral
comfortably established in the Hatton drawing-room; or did she, for
some moments, perceive the Ennismores and Julia also present; while Mr.
Pynsent, smilingly and in high spirits, was chatting in turn to the
individuals composing the circle, and calling for the congratulations
of each person upon the event in prospect.
Lady Spottiswoode gazed in astonishment at the sudden and powerful
change: who could have surmised that the "empty, horrible Wetherals"
were now to receive a thousand attentions and affectionate solicitudes
from Mrs. Pynsent!--that "the bird from the Wetheral nest" was to be
wooed to its gilded cage by all the gentle lures that Mrs. Pynsent
could devise!--that sweet was henceforth to be bitter, and the bitter
sweet! Lady Spottiswoode gazed, and gazed again.
"Well, you are all come to say pretty things to me," said Mrs. Pynsent,
addressing the newly-arrived party, "and you are all moonstruck!--not
a word from one of you: why, Pen, you are all of a heap!--Well, Tyndal
lads, what have you to say?--here am I, full of bustle and happiness.
Tom is going to get married at last, and he has made his old mother
happy. We are all happy. I tell Bobby he ought to fall down and worship
Miss Wetheral, for taking Tom--but here, just come this way, Lady
Spottiswoode." Mrs. Pynsent lowered her voice.--"I didn't much like
the idea of a Wetheral, once, you remember; but that's all ended--we
won't remember old grievances."
"Certainly not," replied her ladyship--"one has often reason to discard
opinions."
"To be sure--can't be for ever harping upon one string." She turned to
her niece.
"Why, you look as if you had lost your love. What's the matter,
woman?--cheer up. Get a good husband, Pen; and don't pay these sort of
visits with such a long face!"
Miss Wycherly could not command a portion of the ever-ready spirits
which had never failed her before; her mind was too oppressed, even to
make an effort. Her aunt's observations were unheard or unnoticed, as
she turned towards her cousin Tom, who came up, red-faced and happy, to
demand her felicitations.
"All right, at last, Cousin Pen: all fears and tribulations are over.
There is nothing like fair dealing, and I have won a wife, after a
devilish sharp run, though a short one. Now say something in your own
fashion upon it, Cousin Pen; something, as Spottiswoode says of you,
sharp, short, and sensible."
Miss Wycherly put her hand to her eyes, and, for a few moments, she
made no reply. Tom Pynsent believed the trembling of her hands
proceeded from fatigue.
"I have told you, Cousin Pen, a woman should not drive four-in-hand;
it's something out of reason. A pair is very pretty handling; but your
little figure perched upon a box, with four horses, won't answer. Your
hands are all in a shake, now."
"Let Pen alone, Tom," said Mrs. Pynsent. "My niece is a Wycherly, and
the Wycherlys never gave in till they were fairly under ground."
"I am ill, aunt; very ill--a glass of water; any thing just to revive
me; my heart is bursting." Miss Wycherly became unable to speak, and
the company surrounded her, offering every species of condolence and
remedy. A glass of water was procured, and the cold sparkling draught
refreshed her. She felt that an effort must be made; and it was made
under sickness of heart and prostration of mind, but the effort had a
beneficial effect, for it roused the sufferer from a blighting sense of
misery to the recollection of present events, and she was enabled to
smile and speak to her cousin with some degree of coherence.
"Tom, I do wish you happy, and I suppose I am fatigued, for I have
driven fourteen miles, but I never was so ill before."
"You are ill," observed Julia Wetheral, who had seated herself near
Miss Wycherly: "it must be something extraordinary which could
overpower _you_, Penelope. You must have felt fatigue in mind and body
with those gay horses."
Miss Wycherly endeavoured to form a playful reply, but a flood of tears
burst forth.
"Say nothing to me, now, Julia--let me be perfectly silent for a
quarter of an hour, and I shall recover."
Every one returned to their former seats, except Julia, who remained
silently at Miss Wycherly's side, and the company again resumed their
interrupted conversation. Mrs. Pynsent had her private thoughts
respecting her niece's sudden illness, which she whispered to Lady
Ennismore.
"Pen is never ill, and never tired with driving--she would drive
six-in-hand, and laugh at it. I hope Pen hasn't taken a fancy to Tom:
my sister Hancock never could bear the idea of cousins marrying."
Lady Ennismore smiled graciously.--"You are more acute, Mrs.
Pynsent, than myself: you have, no doubt, excellent reasons for your
suppositions."
"Lord, I never suppose any thing, Lady Ennismore, or see any thing
till it's all over; only Pen's illness, just now, looks queer. If it
was not about Tom, I can't imagine the cause of Pen's bit of a faint,
just when she was to congratulate him upon his engagement! I am sure
Pen never would faint about a trifle; and, as to her driving, it's all
my eye: my brother Bill put her upon the coach-box as soon as she could
walk."
"Perhaps it is mental agitation of another kind," softly remarked Lady
Ennismore.
"Pooh, pooh!--Pen has no mental agitation, Lady Ennismore. What should
ail her to faint about any thing, if it wasn't Tom's marriage? My
sister Hancock had always a horror of their marrying, only I thought
nothing about it.--How was I to fancy Pen liked Tom, when she was
always with Charles Spottiswoode?"
Lady Ennismore appeared politely convinced, by her companion's
reasoning, that Miss Wycherly's faintness proceeded from her cousin's
insensibility to her attachment, when the door was thrown open to
announce Lord Farnborough and Lady Anna Herbert. Miss Wycherly cast an
eye of alarm towards the hall. Lord Farnborough stalked majestically
forward with his daughter under his arm, and Mr. Spottiswoode followed
too surely in their train. She started up--"Julia, I cannot stay here;
follow me into the library."
Both ladies disappeared during the little bustle of a fresh reception,
and Lady Ennismore alone observed their rapid exit. Miss Wycherly
closed the door of the library, to secure themselves from interruption
or intrusion; she then took off her hat, and, seating herself at the
library-table, she rested her head upon her hands, while the tears
flowed copiously down her cheeks. "Julia," she said--"Julia, I cannot
endure this; I have lost him, and my heart will break."
Julia sat down opposite her companion, and vainly offered consolation.
"Don't attempt to console me, Julia," sobbed poor Miss Wycherly.
"I am past all consolation. The creature has never visited Lidham since
that abominable night at Lady Spottiswoode's, and now he is capering
after Lady Anna Herbert. Oh, Julia, if you could comprehend the misery
I feel!"
"My dear Penelope, you never confessed your fault to Charles
Spottiswoode, I fear, by all this grief. Have you tried to see him, or
written to him since your quarrel?"
The Wycherly blood rushed into the very forehead of Penelope. She
raised her head and dashed away the tears.
"Who! _I_ beg submissively for Spottiswoode's forgiveness! _I_ meanly
sue for pardon to a man who has been my slave till this Lady Anna has
attracted him! _I_ tell him to return to Lidham, because I cannot live
without him! I'll die ten thousand deaths, before I will sully my lips
in imploring pardon!"
"But, Penelope, you are not reduced to implore pardon," replied Julia,
in soothing accents. "You are not advised to act in any way degrading
to your feelings. Did you not trifle most ungenerously with Mr.
Spottiswoode at your last meeting, and have you made one advance since
that time, to prove to him you were in jest?"
Miss Wycherly again drooped her head upon her hands, as she
replied--"He has given me no opportunity to do so, Julia: he has been
ever since that evening devoted to the Farnboroughs."
"And you have been equally devoted to the Tyndals, Penelope. Have you
not made Henry Tyndal your shadow?"
"A great spoony!" ejaculated Miss Wycherly.
"Put an end to all this," resumed Julia, "and give Mr. Spottiswoode
reason to think you regret your unjust conduct; decline Henry Tyndal's
constant attendance, and do not bring upon yourself the Court Herbert
reproaches. You are encouraging Henry Tyndal, Penelope, and Mr.
Spottiswoode must perceive it."
"I know I have done wrong, Julia, but every thing is gone too far; I
cannot, cannot subject myself to Spottiswoode's scorn; he will never
forgive me, and I will never bear the indignity of seeking a hopeless
reconciliation. If I have suffered Henry Tyndal's attentions, _he_ has
sought Lady Anna Herbert. No, we are divided for ever!"
The idea of a final separation from her lover's affection, seemed to
produce agony of mind too powerful to endure, for, Miss Wycherly,
rising suddenly, seized Julia's hands, and gazed earnestly in her face.
"Julia Wetheral, I will act upon your advice, only tell me what to do,
if any thing now can restore his heart; I am wretched enough to submit
to any thing short of the degradation of seeking a man's extinguished
affection! You will not wish me to do a wrong thing, Julia, therefore,
think for me, and quiet my heart."
"I _will_ tell you what to do, Penelope; return with me into the
drawing-room; do not give your attention to Mr. Henry Tyndal, and
do not appear so indifferent to a man you have driven from you with
unkindness."
"Julia," replied Miss Wycherly, breathing hard, "I cannot bear to see
Spottiswoode with another person. I cannot witness his attention to
Lady Anna. I will remain here till _they_ are gone, or I should die
upon the spot. If you could understand my miserable feelings, you would
pity me, and my own folly has produced them!"
Miss Wycherly walked about the library in great distress, which pierced
her friend's heart to witness. She could only offer her sympathy,
and urge her change of manners towards Mr. Tyndal. Grief produces
many effects; on some minds the hand of sorrow falls heavily, yet it
originates patience and gentleness; in others, it produces irritation
and increased violence of temper. It was so with Miss Wycherly, whose
spirit chafed at the remembrance of her own folly, and even attacked
the prudent counsel of her friend.
"I tell you, Julia, I am ready to spurn the Tyndals from my sight;
for who can despise them more than I do?--but it is useless to place
before me, so pertinaciously, my folly in having borne with them.
I am well aware of my error, without requiring any one to heap my
transgressions before my eyes at every turn. Reproach never heals a
wound."
"I do not speak in reproach, Penelope," replied Julia, in accents that
overcame Miss Wycherly's quick temper; "I only point out the means to
serve you, because you asked me to do so."
"Don't heed my words, Julia," exclaimed Miss Wycherly, continuing her
restless walking up and down the library; "I speak in bitter misery,
and know not what I say. Do not leave me, for I know you are kind, and
not given to take offence, and I am almost maddened with vexation. Tell
me what to do, Julia, and I swear to be guided by you."
"I repeat my words, then, Penelope. Return with me into the
drawing-room; do not give Mr. Henry Tyndal all your attention, and bear
with Mr. Spottiswoode's attention to Lady Anna: it will not last long."
"Oh, Julia!" sighed Miss Wycherly, "if I could but think you a true
prophet--but I will do as you wish; I will try to bear the sight of
Lady Anna, but the idea gives me a shuddering fit. See how I tremble."
"You do tremble, Penelope, but a determined effort will subdue it."
Julia rubbed Miss Wycherly's hands, which were deadly cold, and
replaced her hat, as the poor girl sat trembling, and incapable
of assisting herself. Julia also smoothed the curls which fell in
abundance upon her pale cheeks. "And now, Penelope, take my arm, and
let us take one steady turn through the room, to try your powers."
Miss Wycherly took Julia's offered arm, and proceeded towards the
door. "Let us go into the drawing-room at once," she said. "With you I
have given way, because I am assured of your sympathy and secrecy; but
to no other eye will I betray my repentance or my sorrow. I may look
ill--I am ill--but no one shall say Penelope Wycherly pines for Charles
Spottiswoode."
Miss Wycherly's sentiment operated at once upon her nerves and manners:
no one could suppose she had just suffered a strong nervous attack, by
the collected air of her entrance again into company. It was only the
pallid complexion and calm demeanour, which betrayed recent illness
to her friends; and Mrs. Pynsent, satisfied that her niece could never
struggle against her disappointment with Tom, offered her every little
soothing attention, and even seated her where she could not observe her
cousin, still conversing with Anna Maria: her chair was placed near the
window, immediately opposite to Mr. Spottiswoode and Lady Anna Herbert.
"There, Pen, dear, air will refresh you; but you have driven too far,
I dare say: there, look straight before you, and don't keep turning
round."
Lady Anna Herbert made a very polite speech, hoping Miss Wycherly had
not been seriously ill, and Miss Wycherly passed through the forms
of recognition with her ladyship with great presence of mind. Mr.
Spottiswoode slightly bowed; but he did not address her, or join in
the short conversation which ensued between the ladies. Miss Wycherly
became silent, and struggled visibly, to Julia's eye, for resolution
to bear up through the scene. Lady Ennismore broke up the meeting
by ordering her carriage, and then Miss Wycherly's situation became
oppressive. Tom Pynsent came forward to his cousin with looks of
interest. "Cousin Pen, I will drive your carriage home, for Miss Julia
Wetheral says you are not fit to hold the reins, and I think so too."
Lady Spottiswoode and her daughter entreated Miss Wycherly to suffer
Mr. Pynsent to take her place, and renounce the idea of driving.
"The air will revive me," said Miss Wycherly, her lips quivering as she
spoke. "I am fatigued, I believe, and I will gladly allow Tom to drive;
but I cannot sit in the carriage. I must be in the air."
Mrs. Pynsent felt for her niece, and she resolved to prevent her
suffering the distress of sitting a couple of hours by the side of Tom,
who was now as good as married to Miss Wetheral. She applied to Mr.
Spottiswoode.
"Here, Charley, can't you drive the ladies home? It's all in your way,
you know, and quite out of Tom's. Suppose you drive your party into
Shrewsbury, and Pen will drive herself on to Lidham; the distance is a
trifle from Shrewsbury."
Mr. Spottiswoode expressed himself ready to undertake the office of
coachman, if Miss Wycherly approved of his skill: Miss Wycherly caught
at this one last opportunity of seeing and speaking to her lost lover:
she rose from her chair, and reseated herself.--
"I shall be happy if you ... yes." Not a word more could pass her lips,
though she tried to articulate. Mr. Spottiswoode looked earnestly
at her pale countenance, and appeared struck by her agitation. Mrs.
Pynsent's heart was disturbed by her poor niece, Pen.
"That arrangement will do, boys. Tom, just shew Miss Wetheral the new
picture in the study before she goes, and Charley, Miss Wycherly's
groom will ride your horse. I shall tell Bill Wycherly he ought to
send the coachman with Pen, not a groom-fellow."
Lord Farnborough and his daughter rose to take leave. It appeared to
Miss Wycherly's jealous eye, that Lady Anna spoke laughingly to Mr.
Spottiswoode upon the subject of his new vocation, but she could not
catch the words, or his reply: Lady Anna made her a passing bow as she
joined Lord Farnborough, and they were gone when she passively sunk
upon a sofa by Julia's side, exhausted with her efforts. "Julia, this
day decides my destiny--I am weaker than a child."
Mr. Henry Tyndal approached them to express his regret at Miss
Wycherly's fatigue: she closed her eyes, and turned from him in
disgust, abruptly exclaiming--
"I wish to be quiet and alone, Mr. Tyndal."
"I am glad you are not going to drive back," persevered Henry Tyndal;
"I dare say Spottiswoode will drive you very well; he is a very fair
hand at the ribbons. I'm sure I would drive you with the greatest
pleasure in the world, Miss Wycherly, but I am not a dab at driving.
I am glad, however, I shall be riding by your carriage: you will ride
inside, of course: I hope--I beg you will ride inside."
Miss Wycherly looked daggers at the man with whom she had been so
intimate for many days, and whom she had allowed to be constantly in
attendance.
"I require no one's opinion, Mr. Tyndal, to regulate my actions, and I
shall be obliged by your removing from before me."
"I am afraid Miss Wycherly is very ill," said Henry Tyndal, looking
inquisitively at Julia. "What can we do for her, Miss Wetheral?"
"Do, for Heaven's sake, leave me!" cried Miss Wycherly, losing all
patience at his including himself in her arrangements; "I will not be
annoyed by your obstinate stupidity."
"Stupidity, Miss Wetheral! Now what can Miss Wycherly mean by
stupidity, when I am so fearful about her driving home?"
Julia saw her friend's complexion reviving, and her eye lighting up
with a thousand fires: in another moment, a torrent must overwhelm the
unfortunate Henry Tyndal; but, as if to prove his utter blindness, he
placed his own foot upon the precipice by offering to take her hand.
Miss Wycherly felt the extent of her imprudence, in suffering the
attendance of a man whom she never intended to marry, by its effects;
but reason, at that moment, did not inform her impatient spirit that
the fault was hers alone. All suggestions of reason were overpowered
by anger, for Charles Spottiswoode's eyes were upon her, and he had
witnessed the action. Miss Wycherly pushed Henry Tyndal's hand away,
and rose from her seat, as she replied, with great impetuosity,
"If you ever presume to approach me with familiarity, I will tell you
how I abhor the insolence, and resent the affront. How dare you attempt
to touch me, Mr. Tyndal?"
Mr. Tyndal was offended, but he never imagined insult and insolence
could be implied in his well-intentioned movement: he, therefore, stood
silent and sulky for a few moments. Miss Wycherly passed him, and
took her station between Lady Spottiswoode and her aunt. Mrs. Pynsent
was pleased to perceive her son still absent, and her anxiety was
sincere, in endeavouring to get her niece away from Hatton, and in
preventing Tom's reappearance: she was sure Sally Hancock would think
with her that, when once Tom was married, Pen would think no more of
the matter. Lady Ennismore's departure destroyed all her intended plans
for Penelope's peace of mind; for Miss Wetheral was recalled from
contemplating the new picture, and where her fairy footsteps led, there
followed Tom Pynsent. It was in vain that Mrs. Pynsent bustled round
her niece, and recommended her to Mr. Spottiswoode's care; Tom's first
step was to bring Anna Maria up to his cousin.
"We have hardly spoken together, have we, Pen, in this confounded
bustle? but here's my little wife, come to ask how you are, and to say
you must always be glad to see us at Lidham, when you set up with you
know who." Tom looked knowingly at Henry Tyndal.
"We have ever been good friends, Penelope, and a closer connexion shall
not disunite us," said Anna Maria, as they shook hands. Tom Pynsent,
infinitely too happy to remain stationary, walked away with his
prize, and Miss Wycherly remained with the Spottiswoodes. Mr. Charles
Spottiswoode was giving all his attention to some coloured prints on
hunting subjects, when Mrs. Pynsent summoned him.
"Here, Charley, your party are waiting for you, and you are sitting
dumb-founded, like a lover bewitched. Pen, who do you suppose Charley
is thinking of? Who is a long way on her road to Farnborough Stacey,
Charley?"
Mr. Spottiswoode hastily put away the prints; and Miss Wycherly was
fast sinking into the depression which follows effort of any kind, when
Tom Pynsent returned, in high feather, from assisting the Wetheral
party into their carriage. He flew to Miss Wycherly.
"Cousin Pen, my little wife commands me to dine at Wetheral to-day,
so I shall see you properly packed up under Spottiswoode's care: very
good thing Spottiswoode was here, or I should have driven you home in a
towering passion for standing in my way. Come this way, Pen, my little
wife sends you a message, and so does her sister: I must tell them as a
profound secret."
"You be hanged, Tom, with your secret!" said his mother, "and do not
keep Pen from her party."
Tom Pynsent dragged Miss Wycherly into the large bay-window, in spite
of opposition.
"I don't understand ladies' ways just yet, Pen, but I am ordered to say
these words from my little wife, 'Be firm;' and her sister desired me
to say, 'All things must end well, if patient.' Now the devil a bit can
I make out any meaning from either sentence, can you?"
"Yes, I understand, Tom; and tell them this evening for answer, 'Amen.'"
"You are all a parcel of riddles, Pen; what has 'amen' to do with your
affairs. I say, Pen, what's all this with Spottiswoode?"
Miss Wycherly tried to answer her cousin's question lightly, but she
burst into tears.
"Oh, ho, that's it, Pen, is it?" Tom Pynsent pronounced the words
slowly, as if awakened to some new idea gradually. "All must end well,
be firm, and amen. I see something now, by Jove."
His cousin made no reply, but the tears coursed down her cheeks. Tom
Pynsent was sorry for her, and he put his arm round her waist, to suit
the action to the word.
"Never mind, Pen; if you've quarrelled, touch your swain up with a bit
of sugarcandy as you go to Shrewsbury. Pitch it in smoothly, Pen, and
Spottiswoode will turn like the sunflower. Don't cry, cousin Pen, it
makes me dismal--d--n it, don't cry!"
Mrs. Pynsent underwent considerable anxiety during the _tête-à-tête_,
but, when her son became tender, her interference became imperative.
"Tommy, what are you squeezing your cousin there about, when you are
nearly married; secrets are ill-bred things, Master Tommy."
Miss Wycherly's distress became apparent, and she threw open the
window; her cousin good-humouredly and awkwardly endeavoured to conceal
her from observation, by pointing out the beauties of the view.
"There, Pen, are the trees I spoke of, (clear up and dry your eyes,
Pen) and my father talks of planting upon that hill, (don't let any one
guess you are down in the mouth, Pen). I think I like it best as it now
stands. Spottiswoode, Tyndal, give me your opinion."
The gentlemen were soon engaged in disputing the propriety of planting,
or not planting a fine swell in the park, each arguing upon their
opinions, enabling Miss Wycherly to recover some degree of composure;
and, when her well-appointed equipage drove to the door, she was able
to perform her adieus with tolerable calmness. Tom Pynsent offered his
arm to Lady Spottiswoode.
"Now, my lady, three gentlemen can't cut themselves down into two, so I
shall take charge of you, while they fight for your daughter and Pen."
Mr. Spottiswoode stood irresolute for an instant, but the Mr. Tyndals
took possession of Miss Spottiswoode; neither of those gentlemen
approached Miss Wycherly. Mr. Spottiswoode was, of course, under the
necessity of leading her to the carriage, but it took place in profound
silence. Tom Pynsent, now awake to his cousin's state of mind, managed
every thing for her.
"There, ladies, you are comfortable. Pen, let me place _you_
comfortably upon your throne."
Mrs. Pynsent screamed from the drawing-room window, "I say, Tom, put
Pen inside!"
Tom Pynsent, however, seated his cousin safely on the "throne," as she
had always designated the coach-box, and Mr. Spottiswoode took his seat
by her side; the Mr. Tyndals also mounted their horses, and rode away.
Mr. Spottiswoode paused to admit of Tom Pynsent's careful arrangement
of his cousin's box-cloak, but Mrs. Pynsent again screamed from the
window:--
"I say, Tom, you'll be too late for Wetheral!"
Tom Pynsent noticed his mother's exclamations by a sharp movement
of the elbow, and remained till he had adjusted every thing with
precision. He then shook his cousin's hand forcibly, and descended upon
the steps of the door. "All's right, Spottiswoode."
The carriage was soon lost behind the knoll, which had been the subject
of dispute.
The Mr. Tyndals appeared no more by the side of the carriage, and a
long silence was broken by a remark from Mr. Spottiswoode.
"I wonder we see nothing of the Tyndals."
Miss Wycherly answered, half hesitating, "I believe I have offended Mr.
Henry Tyndal."
"That is to be regretted," was Mr. Spottiswoode's reply, and a second
silence ensued; the remainder of the drive was passed without a word
on either side. Lady Spottiswoode urged Miss Wycherly to remain with
them and dine; but Penelope's heart was too ill at ease to accept her
hospitality. Her pallid countenance and hurried voice pleading excuses,
spoke more powerfully than words could do, and her friends forbore
to press her compliance. Mr. Spottiswoode still held the reins, and
evinced no intention to quit the box. Miss Wycherly dared not meet his
eye, as she thanked him for the trouble he had taken.
"You must not return thanks yet, for my task is not ended," replied Mr.
Spottiswoode, "I shall drive you safely to Lidham."
"Pray--not for the world!" exclaimed Miss Wycherly, fixing her eyes
upon her companion, in the energy of speaking; Mr. Spottiswoode's face
wore a mild expression, and a smile quivered on his lip, but it fled
at her exclamation, and his manner resumed its reserve. She remembered
Julia's charge to be gentle; she remembered her cousin's charge to
"pitch it in smoothly;" she saw also Mr. Henry Tyndal walking his horse
in the distance.
"Yes, yes, Charles Spottiswoode, drive on, and drive fast--don't wait
for any one!"
"Not for Tyndal?" asked Mr. Spottiswoode, provokingly.
"Not for a human being--drive on, I beseech you!"
Mr. Spottiswoode obeyed, and the carriage proceeded with rapidity in
the direction of Lidham.
Three miles were traversed, and Lidham rose among its woods in
grandeur, ere Miss Wycherly attempted to speak; she had taxed her
memory to bring forward some topic of conversation, but it played her
false; she had awaited a remark from her companion, upon which to
ground her intended kindness, and it had not reached her ear--her heart
now pined to recover its former ease and happiness, yet no opportunity
offered to attempt the resumption. To begin the subject voluntarily,
was a thought which fled at its very birth. What! own herself in the
wrong, and apologize for having given pain to a worthy heart? Ask for
pardon, when she had insulted a human being in the dearest feelings?
and, when her spirit longed to be at peace with her lover, full of its
own injustice and wrong? forbid it, womanly dignity!
Mr. Spottiswoode passed through the lodge at Lidham, and yet Miss
Wycherly persevered in her silence; no matter, Mr. Wycherly was in
sight, and the hour was past for repentance; she must henceforth submit
to bear a gnawing and unpitied remorse for her levity of conduct, and
for the knowledge that she had thrown away the very opportunity she
had coveted, to try her power upon her lover's forgiveness. To her
"dignity" she must sacrifice an ingenuous confession of sorrow for an
error, heartless as it was uncalled for; and the demands of "dignity"
superseded the claim of right. So do women often create their own
misery, by daring to offend, yet quailing under the degradation of
revoking an ungenerous speech.
Mr. Wycherly returned to the house, and was ready to receive his
daughter and Mr. Spottiswoode when they drove up in his usual way. It
never occurred to him that the somewhat long absence of the latter from
Lidham was a sure prognostic of a misunderstanding between the parties
most interested in the visits.
"Why, Spottiswoode, you are a truant, but Pen has caught you at last,
I see. She and I thought you were gone for ever, but I'm glad to see
you, however." Mr. Wycherly handed his daughter from the barouche-box.
"Well, now, come down, for dinner has been ready this half-hour; down
with you, my good fellow."
Mr. Spottiswoode declined staying dinner; he would take his own horse,
and return to Shrewsbury.
"My good fellow, what's the matter with you? you won't think of losing
your dinner? Nonsense, my dear sir; stay and take your dinner, and go
home afterwards, if you like. Here, Pen, try your eloquence."
But Miss Wycherly had flown in sorrow and anger to her own room. Mr.
Spottiswoode perceived her departure, and it decided his own; he could
not be prevailed upon to defer his ride home till the evening. It was
evident Miss Wycherly got out of his way, and her manner towards him
was offensive; he could not think of remaining at Lidham, to subject
himself to repeated annoyances; Mr. Wycherly pressed in vain.
"Well, Spottiswoode, you are determined, so I can't help it; but I
think there is something in the wind."
"I am returning to my mother's house," replied Mr. Spottiswoode, as he
shook hands.
"Give my compliments," said Mr. Wycherly, "and tell her I say you are
an obstinate mule."