It was quite early on the following morning, when Mr. Delafield rung at
the door of the house in which the father of Miss Henly resided. The
gentleman had obtained the permission of the young lady, the preceding
evening, to put himself on the list of her visiting acquaintance, and a
casual introduction to both of Charlotte's parents had smoothed the way
to this intimacy. It is certain, that, much as Mr. and Mrs. Henly loved
their child, neither of them entertained the selfish wish of
monopolizing all of her affections to themselves during life. It was
natural, and a thing to be expected, that Charlotte should marry; and
among the whole of their acquaintance there appeared no one so
unobjectionable as her new admirer. He was agreeable in person, in
manners, and in temper; he was intelligent, witty, and a man of the
world; and, moreover, he was worth--three hundred thousand dollars! What
parent is there whose judgment would remain unbiassed by these solid
reasons in favour of a candidate for the hand of his child? or what
female is there whose heart could be steeled against such attractions in
her suitor? Many were the hours of care that had been passed by the
guardians of Charlotte's happiness, in ruminating on the event that was
to yield their charge to the keeping of another; frequent were their
discussions on this interesting subject, and innumerable their plans to
protect her inexperience against falling into those errors that had
blasted the peace of so many around them; but the appearance of Seymour
Delafield seemed as the fulfilment of their most sanguine expectations.
To his refinement of manners, they both thought that they could yield
the sensitive delicacy of their child with confidence; in his travelled
experience they anticipated the permanency of a corrected taste; nor,
was it a disagreeable consideration to either, that as the silken cord
of paternal discipline was to be loosened, it was to be succeeded by
the fetters of hymen cast in polished gold. In what manner their
daughter regarded the evident admiration of Mr. Delafield will appear,
by the conclusion of our tale.
On entering the parlour, Delafield found George Morton seated in a chair
near the fire, with his person more than usually well guarded against
the cold, as if he were suffering under the effects of a serious
indisposition. The salutations between the young men were a little
embarrassed on both sides; the face of George growing even paler than
before, while the fine colour on Delafield's cheek mounted to his very
temples. After regarding for a moment, with much inward dissatisfaction,
the apparent ease with which George was maintaining possession of the
apartment by himself, Mr. Delafield overcame the sudden emotion created
by the surprise, and spoke.
"I am sorry that you appear so ill, Mr. Morton, and I regret that you
should have suffered so much in the cause of humanity, when one so much
better able to undergo the fatigue, by constitution, should have
remained an idle spectator, like myself."--
The silent bow of George might be interpreted into a desire to say
nothing of his own conduct, or into an assent with the self-condemnation
of the speaker. Delafield, however, took the chair which the other
politely placed for him, and continued--
"But, Sir, you have your reward. The interest and admiration excited in
Miss Henly, would compensate me for almost any privation or hardship
that man could undergo."
"It is no hardship to ride a few miles in a comfortable coach," said
George, with a feeble smile, "nor can I consider it a privation of
enjoyment, to be able to assist the distressed,"--he hesitated a moment,
and a flush gradually stole over his features as he continued, "It is
true, Sir, that I prize the good opinion of Miss Henly highly, but I
look to another quarter for approbation on such a subject."
"And very justly, George," said the soft voice of Charlotte, "such
applause as mine can be but of little moment to one who performs such
acts as yours."
The gentlemen were sitting with their faces towards the fire, and had
not heard the light step of Miss Henly as she entered the apartment, but
both instantly arose and paid their salutations; the invalid by a silent
bow, and by handing a chair, and Delafield with many a graceful
compliment on her good looks, and divers protestations concerning the
pleasure he felt at being permitted to visit at her house. No two things
could be more different than the manners of these gentlemen. That of the
latter was very highly polished, insinuating, and although far from
unpleasantly so, yet slightly artificial; while that of the former was
simple, ingenuous, and in the presence of Miss Henly was apt to be at
times a little constrained. Charlotte certainly perceived the
difference, and she as certainly thought that it was not altogether to
the advantage of George Morton. The idea seemed to give her pain, for
she showed several little attentions to her old friend, that by their
flattering, but unstudied particularity, were adapted to put any man at
his ease and assure him of his welcome, still the embarrassment of
George did not disappear, but he sat an uneasy listener to the
conversation that occurred, as if reluctant to stay, and yet unwilling
to depart. After a few observations on the entertainment of the
preceding evening, Mr. Delafield continued--
"I was lamenting to Mr. Morton, as you entered, that he should have
suffered so much from my want of thought, the day before yesterday; it
requires a good constitution to endure exposure--"
"And such I often tell you, George, you do not possess," said Charlotte,
kindly and with a little melancholy; "yet you neither seem to regard my
warnings on the subject, nor those of any of your friends"--
"There is a warning that I have not disregarded," returned the youth,
endeavouring to smile.
"And what is it?" asked Charlotte, struck with the melancholy
resignation of his manner.
"That I am not fit company, just now, for hearts as gay as yours and Mr.
Delafield's," he returned, and rising, he made a hasty bow and
withdrew.
"What can he mean?" said Charlotte, in amazement, "George does not
appear well, and latterly his manner is much altered--what can he mean,
Mr. Delafield?"
"He is ill," said Delafield, far from feeling quite easy at the evident
interest that the lady exhibited; "he is ill, and should be in his bed,
instead of attending the morning levees of even Miss Henly."
"Indeed, he is too regardless of his health," said Charlotte in a low
tone, fixing her eyes on the grate, where she continued gazing for some
time. Every effort of Seymour was made to draw off the attention of the
young lady from a subject, that, however melancholy, seemed to possess
peculiar charms for her. In this undertaking the gentleman would not
have succeeded but for the fortunate appearance of Miss Osgood, who came
into the room very opportunely to keep alive the discourse.
"What, tete-a-tete!" exclaimed Maria; "you should discharge your
footman, Charlotte, for saying that you were at home. A young lady is
never supposed to be at home when she is alone--with a gentleman."
"I shall then know how to understand the servant of Mr. Osgood, when I
inquire for his daughter," cried Seymour gayly.
"Ah! Mr. Delafield, it is seldom that I have an opportunity of hearing
soft things, for I am never alone with a gentleman in my father's
house"--
"And is Mrs. Osgood so rigid?" returned the gentleman; "surely the
gravity of her daughter should create more confidence"--
"Most humbly I thank you, Sir," said Maria, courtseying low before she
took the chair that he handed; "but it is not the caution of Mrs. Osgood
that prevents any solos in her mansion, unless it be on a harp or flute,
or any possibility of a tete-a-tete."
"Now you have excited my curiosity to a degree that is painfully
unpleasant," said Delafield, "I know you to be too generous not to allay
it"--
"Oh! it is nothing more than a magical number, that frightens away all
applicants for such a favour, unless indeed it may be such as would not
be very likely to be successful were they to apply; and which even would
render it physically impossible to have a tender interview within the
four walls of the mansion"--
"It is a charmed number, indeed! and is it on the door? is it the number
of the house?"
"Oh! not at all--only the number of the family, the baker's dozen, that
I mentioned last evening; now in visiting Miss Henly there is no such
interruption to be apprehended."
Charlotte could not refrain from smiling at the vivacity of her friend,
who, perceiving that her wish to banish the look of care that clouded
the brow of the other had vanished, changed the discourse as abruptly as
she had introduced it.
"I met George Morton at the door, and chatted with him for several
minutes. He appears quite ill, but I know he has gone two miles in the
country for his mother this raw day; unless he is more careful of
himself, he will ruin his constitution, which is none of the best now."
Maria spoke with feeling, and with a manner that plainly showed that her
ordinary levity was assumed, and that she had at the bottom, much
better feelings than the trifling intercourse of the world would usually
permit her to exhibit. Charlotte did not reply, but her brightening
looks once more changed to that pensive softness which so well became
her delicate features, and which gave to her countenance an expression
such as might be supposed to shadow the glory of angels, when, from
their abode of purity and love, they look down with pity on the sorrows
of man.
The quick glance of Delafield not only watched, but easily detected,
both the rapid transitions and the character of these opposite emotions.
Under the sudden influence of passions, that probably will not escape
our readers, he could not forbear uttering, in a tone in which pique
might have been too apparent.
"Really, Mr. Morton is a happy fellow!"
The blue eyes of Charlotte were turned to the speaker with a look of
innocent inquiry, but she continued silent. Maria, however, not only
bestowed a glance at the youth from her laughing hazel ones, but found
utterance for her tongue also.
"How so?" she asked--"He is not of a strong constitution, not immensely
rich, nor over and above--that is, not particularly handsome. Why is he
so happy?"
"Ah! I have discovered that a man may be happy without one of those
qualifications."
"And miserable who has them all?"
"Nay, nay, Miss Osgood, my experience does not extend so far--I am not
quite the puppy you think me."
Maria, in her turn, was silent; but she arose from her seat, and moved
with an absent air to a distant part of the room, and for a short time
seemed to be particularly occupied in examining the beauties of a
port-folio of prints, with every one of which she was perfectly
familiar. The conversation was resumed by her friend.
"You have mortified Miss Osgood, Mr. Delafield," said Charlotte; "she is
too good natured to judge any one so harshly."
"Is her good nature, in this particular, infectious?" the young man
rather whispered than uttered aloud--"Does her friend feel the same
indulgence for the infirmities of a frail nature to which she really
seems herself hardly to belong?"
"You compliment me, Mr. Delafield, at the expense of truth, if it really
be a compliment to tell me that I am not a girl--a female; for if I am
not a woman, I must be something worse."
"You are an angel!" said Delafield, with uncontrollable fervour.
Charlotte was startled by his manner and his words, and unconsciously
turned to her friend, as if to seek her protecting presence; but to her
astonishment, she beheld Maria in the act of closing the door as she was
leaving the room.
"Maria!" she cried, "whither in such a hurry? I expected you to pass the
morning with me."
"I shall see your mother and return," replied Miss Osgood, closing the
door so rapidly as to prevent further remark. This short speech,
however, gave Charlotte time to observe the change that something had
produced in the countenance of her old companion, where, in place of the
thoughtless gaiety that usually shone in her features, was to be seen
an expression of painful mortification; and even the high glow that
youth and health had imparted to her cheeks, was supplanted by a
death-like paleness. Delafield had been endeavouring to peruse the
countenance of Miss Henley in a vain effort to discover the effect
produced by his warm exclamation; and these observations, which were
made by the quick eye of friendship, entirely escaped his notice.
"Maria is not well, Mr. Delafield," Charlotte said hastily. "I know your
goodness will excuse me while I follow her."
The young man bowed with a mortified air, and was somewhat ungraciously
beginning to make a polite reply, when the door opened a short space,
and the voice of Miss Osgood was once more heard, saying in a forced,
but lively manner--
"I never was better in my life; I shall run into Mrs. Morton's for ten
minutes; let me find you here, Mr. Delafield, when I return." Her
footstep was heard tripping along the passage, and in a moment after,
the street door of the house opened and shut. Charlotte perceiving that
her friend was determined, for some inexplicable reason, to be alone,
quietly resumed her seat. Her musing air was soon changed to one of
surprise, by the following remark of her companion.
"You appear, Miss Henley," he said, "to be sensitively alive to the
ailings of all you know but me."
"I did not know that you were ill, Mr. Delafield! Really, sir, I never
met with any gentleman's looks which so belied him, if you are otherwise
than both well and happy."
As much experience as Delafield possessed in the trifling manoeuvres of
managers, or perhaps in the manifestations of feelings that are
exhibited by every-day people, he was an absolute novice in the emotions
of a pure, simple, ingenuous female heart. He was alive to the
compliment to his acknowledged good looks, conveyed in this speech, but
he was not able to appreciate the single-heartedness that prompted it.
Perhaps his handsome face was as much illuminated by the consciousness
of this emotion as by the deeper feelings he actually experienced, while
he replied,--
"I am well, or ill, as you decree, Miss Henley; it is impossible that
you should live in the world, and be seen, be known as you are, and must
have been seen and known, and not long since learned the power you
possess over the happiness of hundreds."
Though Charlotte was simple, unsuspecting, pure, and extremely modest,
she was far from dull--she was not now to learn the difference between
the language of ordinary trifling and general compliment, and that to
which she now listened, and which, however vague, was still so
particular as to induce her to remain silent. The looks and manner of
the youthful female, at that moment, would have been a study to those
who love to dwell on the better and purer beings of creation. She was
silent, as we have already remarked, because she could make no answer to
a speech that either meant every thing or nothing. The slight tinge that
usually was seated on her cheek spreading over its whole surface like
the faintest glow of sunset blending, by mellow degrees, with the
surrounding clouds, was heightened to richness, and even diffused itself
like a reflection, across her polished forehead, because she believed
she was about to listen to a declaration that her years and her
education united to tell her was never to approach female ears without
slightly trespassing on the delicacy of her sex. Her mild blue eyes,
beaming with the glow on her face, rose and fell from the carpet to the
countenance of Delafield, but chiefly dwelt in open charity, and
possibly in anxiety, on his own. In fact, there was thrown around her
whole air, such a touch of exquisite and shrinking delicacy, so blended
with feeling benevolence, and even tender interest, that it was no
wonder that a man, handsome to perfection, young, intelligent, and rich,
mistook her feelings.
"Pardon me, Miss Henley," he cried, and the apology was unconsciously
paid to the commanding purity and dignity of her air, "if I overstep the
rules of decorum, and hasten to declare that which I know years of trial
would hardly justify my saying; but your beauty, your grace,
your--your----where shall I find words to express it?--your loveliness,
yes, that means every thing--your loveliness has not been seen with
impunity."
This might have done very well for a sudden and unprepared declaration;
but being a little indefinite, it failed to extract a reply, his
listener giving a respectful, and, at times, a rather embarrassing
attention to what he was to add. After a short pause, the youth, who
found words as he proceeded, and with whom, as with all others, the
first speech was the most difficult, continued--
"I have known you but a short time, Miss Henley; but to see you once is
to see you always. You smile, Miss Henley, but give me leave to hope
that time and assiduity will enable me to bring you to such a state of
feeling, that in some degree, you may know how to appreciate my
sensations."
"If I smile, Mr. Delafield," said Charlotte in a low but distinct voice,
"it is not at you, but at myself. I, who have been for seventeen years
constantly with Charlotte Henley, find each day something new in her,
not to admire, but to reprehend." She paused a moment, and then added,
smiling most sweetly as she spoke, "I will not affect to misunderstand
you, Mr. Delafield; your language is not very intelligible, but it is
such that I am sure you would not use to me if you were not serious,
and did not feel, or rather think you feel what you utter."
"Think I feel?" he echoed. "Don't I know it? Can I be mistaken in my own
sentiments? I may be misled in yours--may have flattered myself with
being able to accomplish that at some distant day, which your obduracy
may deny me, but in my own feelings I cannot be mistaken."
"Not where they are so very new; nay, do not start so eagerly--where
they must be so very new. Surely your fancy only leads you to say so
much, and to-morrow, or next day, your fancy, unless encouraged by you
to dwell on my unworthy self, will lead you elsewhere."
"Now, Miss Henley, what I most admire in your character is its lovely
ingenuousness, its simplicity, its _heart_; and I will own I did not
expect such an answer to a question put, like mine, in sincerity and
truth."
"If I have failed to answer any question you have put to me, Mr.
Delafield, it is because I am unconscious than any was asked; and if I
have displayed disengenuousness, want of simplicity, or want of
feeling, it has been unintentional, I do assure you; and only proves
that I can be guilty of errors, without their being detected by one who
has known me so long and so intimately."
"My impetuosity has deceived me and distressed you," said Delafield--"I
would have said that I love you ardently, passionately, and constantly,
and shall for ever love you. I should have asked your permission to say
all this to your parents, to entreat them to permit me to see you often,
to address you; and, if it were not impossible, to hope that in time
they would consent to intrust me with their greatest treasure, and that
you would not oppose their decree."
"This is certainly asking many questions in a breath," said Charlotte
smiling, but without either irony or triumph; "and were it not for that
word, breath, I should experience some uneasiness at what you say; I
find great satisfaction, Mr. Delafield, in reflecting that our
acquaintance is not a week old."
"A week is time enough to learn to adore such a being as you are, Miss
Henley, though an age would not suffice to do justice to your merits.
Say, have I your permission to speak to your father? I do not ask you
yet to return my affection--nay, I question if you can ever love as I
do."
"Perhaps not," said Charlotte; "I can love enough to feel a great and
deep interest in those who are dear to me, but I never yet have
experienced such emotions as you describe--I believe, in this
particular, you have formed a just opinion of me, Mr. Delafield; I
suspect such passions are not in the compass of my feelings."
"They are, they must be, Miss Henley: allow me to see you often, to
speak to your father, and at least to hope--may I not hope that in time
you will learn to think me a man to be trusted with your happiness as
your husband?"
The quiet which had governed the manner of Charlotte during this
dialogue, was sensibly affected by this appeal, and for a short time she
appeared too much embarrassed to reply. During this interval, Delafield
gazed on her, in delight; for with the sanguine feelings of youth, he
interpreted every symptom of emotion in his own favour. Finding,
however, that she was distressed for a reply, he renewed his suit--
"Though I have known you but a few days, I feel as if I had known you
for years. There are, I believe, Miss Henley, spirits in the world who
commune with each other imperceptibly, who seem formed for each other,
and who know and love each other as by instinct."
"I have no pretensions to belong to that class," said Charlotte; "I must
know well to love a little, but I trust I feel kind sentiments to the
whole human race."
"Ah, you do not know yourself. You have lived all your life in the
neighbourhood of that Mr. Morton who just went out, and you feel pity
for his illness. He does indeed look very ill--but you have yet to learn
what it is to love. I ask the high favour of being permitted to attempt
the office of--of--of--"
"Of teaching me!" said Charlotte with a smile.
"No--that word is too presumptuous--too coarse--"
"Hear me, Mr. Delafield," said Miss Henley after a short pause, during
which she seemed to have experienced some deep and perhaps painful
emotions--"I cannot undertake to give you a reason for my conduct--very
possibly I have no good one; but I feel that I should be doing you
injustice by encouraging what you are pleased to call hopes--I wish to
be understood now, as saying that I cannot consent to your expecting
that I should ever become your wife."
Delafield was certainly astonished at this refusal, which was given in
that still, decided manner that admits of little opposition. He had long
been accustomed to apprehend a sudden acceptance, and had been in the
habit of strictly guarding both his manner and his language, lest
something that he did or said might justify expectations that would have
been out of his power to fulfil; but now, when, for the first time, he
had ventured a direct offer, he met with a rejection that possessed all
the characteristics of sincerity, he was, in truth, utterly astounded.
After taking a sufficient time to collect in some degree his faculties,
he came to the conclusion that he had been too precipitate, and had
urged the suit too far, and too hastily.
"Such may be your sentiments now, Miss Henley," he said, "but you may
alter them in time: you are not called on for a definite answer."
"If not by you, I am by truth, Mr. Delafield. It would be wrong to lead
you to expect what can never--"
"Never?" said Delafield--"you cannot speak so decidedly."
"I do, indeed I do," returned Charlotte firmly.
"I have not deceived myself in believing you to be disengaged, Miss
Henley?"
"You have a right to require a definite answer to your questions, Mr.
Delafield; but you have no right to exact my reasons for declining your
very flattering offer--I am young, very young--but I know what is due to
myself and to my sex--"
"By heavens! my suspicion is true--you are already betrothed!"
"It would be easy to say no to that assertion, sir," added Charlotte,
rising; "but your right to a reason in a matter where inclination is so
material, is exactly the same as my right would be to ask you why you
did not address me. I thank you for the preference you have shown me,
Mr. Delafield. I have not so little of the woman about me, not to
remember it always with gratitude; but I tell you plainly and firmly,
for it is necessary that I should do so--I never can consent to receive
your proposals."
"I understand you, madam--I understand you," said the young man with an
offended air; "you wish my absence--nay, Miss Henley, hear me further."
"No further, Mr. Delafield," interrupted Charlotte, advancing to him
with a kind, but unembarrassed air, and offering her hand--"we part
friends at least; but I think, now we know each other's sentiments, we
had better separate."
The gentleman seized the hand she offered, and kissed it more with the
air of a lover, than of an offended man, and left the room. A few
minutes after he had gone, Miss Osgood re-appeared.