AN EXCLUSIVE MORNING PARTY.
As they walked along between Lord Albert's
house and that of their destination, one idea
took the lead in D'Esterre's mind--it was the
hope of obtaining from Lady Hamlet Vernon
an elucidation of the mysterious expressions
contained in her note. He formed a thousand
plans how he should contrive to remain
alone with her, after Mr. Foley should take
his leave, for he made no question but that
he would be the first to end his visit; and he
settled it in his own mind that he would affect
to have some message to give Lady Hamlet,
which might afford him an opportunity of
procuring the interview he so eagerly desired:
but almost always, in similar circumstances,
none of these minor events occur as
we intend they should; and the first object
Lord Albert saw on entering Lady Hamlet
Vernon's drawing-room was Lady Tenderden,
sitting at a writing table, having taken off
her bonnet as though she had come upon
some particular occasion, and was fixed there
for a considerable time.
"Ah! Lord Albert," said Lady Hamlet
Vernon, "and Mr. Foley too! Most welcome
both.--Restormel was quite dull without
you; and besides the comfort one always feels
at coming back to the dear dirty streets,
after having been banished from them a few
days, I am really charmed to find myself
once more surrounded by all my friends. Do
tell us the news, and sit down--you shall not
positively pay me a flying visit--though you,
Lord Albert, flew away in such a hurry from
Restormel, that we had not time, no not even
to say 'farewell;'"--(and she looked at him
very significantly as she spoke.) "So before I
shall have time now to speak to you, you will
be gone again--but if so, it is not _my_ fault."
Lord Albert thought that he read the
meaning of this speech, and his impatience
and anxiety were increased in proportion.
It was with the utmost difficulty he could
bring himself to leave her side in order to go
to the other end of the room, in obedience
to Lady Tenderden, who called him every
now and then to ask some silly question or
other, which he hardly answered; and which
induced her, therefore, to beg him to come
and sit near her, that she might talk to him
comfortably while she was writing: two
things which she declared she could do quite
well at the same time. As soon as Lady
Tenderden had managed this contrivance,
Mr. Foley entered into (apparently) a very
interesting conversation with Lady Hamlet
Vernon; and Lord Albert sat on thorns as
his eyes were rivetted on them, while he contrived
to answer Lady Tenderden, although
it were as if he was playing at cross purposes.
Any change was a relief, and the announcement
of Lord Glenmore was a real pleasure
to him, for he thought his arrival must at
least break up the _tête-à-tête_ between Lady
Hamlet and Mr. Foley, which seemed to him
as if it never would end.
After having paid his compliments to Lady
Hamlet Vernon and Lady Tenderden, Lord
Glenmore accosted his friend, and cordially
wished him joy in a sort of half whisper, on
Lady Dunmelraise's arrival. But, in Lord
Albert's present frame of mind, this congratulation
was not received with that open warmth
which Lord Glenmore expected; and he
dropped the subject, taking up those of the
common-place occurrences of the day. The
drawing-room was discussed; it was to be
fuller than any preceding one. Lady Tilney
had declared she would not go--so had Lady
Ellersby; "but, nevertheless," said Lord
Glenmore, with one of his good-humoured
smiles, "I dare say those ladies will not
have the cruelty to allow their absence to
be regretted when the time arrives; do you
think they will, Lady Hamlet Vernon?"
"Most indubitably not, and I make no
doubt the _plumassiers_ and jewellers are all
at this moment in requisition in Lady Tilney's
boudoir. But, by the way, Lord Glenmore,
your fair lady will of course be presented on
your marriage--who is to have the pleasure of
presenting her?"
"Who? why of course her mother, Lady
Melcomb."
Lady Hamlet Vernon and Lady Tenderden
here exchanged the most significant glances,
and a silence ensued; which was first broken
by Lord Glenmore, who endeavoured to draw
Lord Albert into conversation by touching
alternately on politics, literature, and all the
subjects which he knew were interesting to
him; but to which he could only obtain some
short answer, that did not promote the flow
of the conversation. He began to ask himself
whether he could have given Lord Albert
any offence, or whether he retained any on
account of their interview in the Park; but it
was so unlike Lord Albert to take offence
where it never was intended to be given,
that he concluded (as was in fact the case)
that something painful was on his mind, of
which he could not divest himself. Having
vainly attempted, by raillery as well as by
engaging his attention, to get the better of
this abstraction and gloom, Lord Glenmore
let the matter pass, and addressed his conversation
elsewhere; but Lady Tenderden was
not to be diverted from her purpose, and she
took up the thread of discourse, requesting
to know if Lady Adeline Seymour had imposed
a vow of silence upon him, or what
other cause had so changed him since he was
last at Restormel? He pleaded total ignorance
of being changed; but the consciousness
that he was so, rendered his efforts at
disguise only more visible.
Lord Albert rose and sat down; a hundred
times he looked at a French clock on the chimney-piece,
which of course did not go; and
at last requested Mr. Foley to tell him the
hour, as he had an engagement which demanded
his attention. Having found that it
was a full half hour past the time appointed
by Lady Adeline, he made his bow to Lady
Hamlet Vernon, and was about to leave the
room, when she called him back, and said,
"of course we all meet in the evening at
Lady Tilney's?" There was a glance and an
emphasis which accompanied these words,
which he could not fail to interpret as an
assignation, and one that he determined on
his part to keep.
Could Lord Albert have known what was
passing in Lady Adeline's mind, while he was
thus misspending his time in a false anxiety
about a few mysterious words, written, it
might be, with no good intent, and indeed it
might be without any foundation, he would
have hastened away from this idle and unworthy
mode of passing his time long before
he did; but experience unfortunately must be
bought, and although we look upon the actions
of others, and comment upon them, it
may be with the calm wisdom of unmoved
breasts, yet in our own time of trial we are too
apt to prove that theory is not practice. One
would imagine that it was the easiest thing
possible to place one's-self ideally in the
situation of another, to feel as he felt, and
yet act diametrically opposite to the way in
which he acted, in certain circumstances
and positions; but this apparent facility of
transmigration into the identity of another's
being is mere delusion. It may be questioned
if any human creature really understands
another, and how much less likely is it that
he should argue justly on his neighbour's
affairs! Oh, if we were more merciful to
others, and more severe on ourselves; more
humble as to our own merits and more alive
to those of our fellow creatures; we should be
nearer the mark of justice than we usually
are.
While Lord Albert, under the influence of
a tormenting incipient jealousy, wasted the
hour at Lady Hamlet Vernon's which he
should have passed in South Audley Street,
Lady Adeline had been with her aunt, Lady
Delamere, who, in a true spirit of affectionate
solicitude, had nevertheless opened up a
source of anxiety and doubt in the breast
of her niece, which proved the cause of
infinite distress to her. Lady Delamere, after
receiving her with all that glow of partial
fondness peculiarly characteristic of her family,
it might be too much so towards each
other, naturally spoke of Lord Albert D'Esterre.
"Ah, my dear Adeline, now the time approaches
when, according to your father's
will, your final decision respecting the fulfilment
of your marriage must take place, my
anxious fondness suggests a thousand fears,
at least doubts, for your happiness. I beseech
you let these four intervening months at least
be given, not only to a serious examination of
your own heart, but to a clear and vigorous
elucidation of the disposition and principles
of Lord Albert."
"As to my own heart," replied Lady Adeline
with quickness, "it has long not been in
my own keeping, for most fortunately, where
my duty was directed to place it, there my
choice seconded, nay, almost preceded the
arrangement. But why should you doubt that,
such being the case, my happiness should be
endangered? say rather, dearest aunt, confirmed."
"It may be so--I trust it will be so, my
sweet Adeline, since your love is fixed; but
remember how very serious a step marriage
is; and before you are bound for life in the
holiest of all ties, again I conjure you to lay
aside, inasmuch as you can do so, all the
blandishments of love, and consider how far
the tastes, the pursuits, the temper, above all
the religious tenets of your husband, will be in
accordance with your own. Indeed, indeed,
people do not reflect seriously _enough_ on these
points. I ask not any long consideration, any
great trial of time or absence--they are both
circumstances which may deceive either way;
for things viewed at a distance, are not seen
in their true light; and one may be as much
deceived at the end of a year, as at the end of
a month--and life is short. The life of life,
the bloom of youth, should not be needlessly
withered in pining anxiety. What I ask of
you is, during the time you are now to be in
town, to go out with moderation into the
great world, to see what it has to offer, and
to know whether any other person might supersede
Lord Albert in your affections; this
is as yet a fair and honourable trial. You are
_not bound_ to each other, if either wishes to
break the tie." (Lady Adeline sighed heavily.)
"And should you, while together, discover
any flaw or imperfection which might make
you wish to dissolve the engagement, now is
the time; but after marriage, I need not say,
my Adeline, that one glance of preference for
another is guilt--one wish, foreign to your
allegiance as a wife, is _misery_."
There was a pause in the conversation.
Lady Adeline felt sorrowful--she scarcely knew
why, except indeed it had never occurred to
her that any thing could step in to break off
her engagement with Lord Albert; and the
bare possibility of such an event seemed to
unhinge her whole being.
The fact is, Lady Delamere had heard surmises
of Lord Albert's intimacy with Lady
Hamlet Vernon, and without informing her
niece of a report which, after all, might not
have any foundation, she yet conceived it to
be a duty to put her on her guard, and make
her ready to observe any alteration that might
have taken place in Lord Albert. She would
have told Lady Dunmelraise all that she had
heard without disguise; but at present her
state of health was such, that she could not
think of endangering her life by giving her
such information; for she well knew her sister's
heart was set upon the match, and that
she had long loved Lord Albert as though he
had been her son. However, she determined,
the moment Lady Dunmelraise was better, to
have no concealment from her. It had not
been without much self-debate that she had
brought herself even to hint any thing like a
doubt to Lady Adeline of Lord Albert's truth;
and even now, she only endeavoured to prepare
her to open her eyes to the conviction,
should such a melancholy change have taken
place, but without naming the real cause she
had for giving her such caution.
As it was, it was quite enough to sadden
Lady Adeline; and her air was so dejected
when she returned home to Lady Dunmelraise,
that the latter feared something had occurred
to vex her. "Is my sister worse,
dearest child?--I pray you do not conceal the
truth from me."
"Oh no;--be not alarmed," she replied,
"my aunt hopes, in a day or two, to be able to
come to see you, dearest mamma. It is not
that--but I have a bad head-ache, and have
undergone too much excitement." The look
of anxious inquiry which Lady Dunmelraise
could not conceal, lessened not Lady Adeline's
unhappiness; and as the time which
she had appointed for Lord Albert's visit
was now far passed, the whole weight of
the sad warnings she had received, seemed
doubled. At length the peculiar knock--the
quick footstep on the stair, told her he was
come, and she passed from her mother's bedroom
into the adjoining drawing-room to meet
him.
They seemed mutually affected by some
secret cause; for there was not that cordial
clasping of hands--that beaming of eyes--that
joyful tone of greeting, which might have been
expected to mark their meeting on this occasion:
their hands touched coldly--and Lord
Albert made no effort to retain her's.
"You have been very much later than I
expected, Albert."
"Yes: I could not exactly obey the hour
named in your note, as you went out before I
could possibly come here this morning; and
as you put me off, I had another engagement,
which in my turn detained me; however, I
was happy to hear you were well from Mr.
Foley, who had the pleasure of seeing you,
I believe, very early."
"Yes: Mr. Foley, you know, as mamma's
_protégé_ and _enfant de famille_, has the _entrée_
at all hours, and I was drawing when he
came in; I thought it was you, and--
"Oh, dear Lady Adeline, you cannot suppose
I should take the liberty of inquiring
what you were doing--I hope Lady Dunmelraise
is better to-day?"
Lady Adeline, under any other influence than
that which now influenced her, would have
said, "Albert, what is the matter with you? are
you displeased?" But her aunt's advice was,
"look well to the real state of Lord Albert's
affections, and do not allow your own to give
a colouring to his, which may not be the true
one, were his heart unbiassed by the flattering
predilection you so openly profess for
him." This advice sealed her lips; and,
checking the natural impulse of her heart,
she replied to his inquiries about her mother
more at length than she would have done,
in order to recover a composure she was far
from feeling; she allowed all further discussion
of her mode of passing the morning to
drop.
Lord Albert's restrained, unnatural manner
increased, and they both felt relieved
when Lady Dunmelraise called from her
apartment to her daughter--who obeyed the
summons; but returning after a minute's
absence, she said,
"Mamma hopes you will dine with us to-day."
"Oh, certainly, if Lady Dunmelraise wishes
me to do so:" and as Lady Adeline made no
reply, but returned to her mother, Lord Albert
departed to dress.
When they met at dinner, Lady Dunmelraise's
presence for a time prevented the
awkwardness they mutually felt; but she
soon found that the conversation was entirely
left to her, and could not be long
without perceiving that something had occurred
which altered Lord Albert's manner.
Hoping it, however, only to be one
of those fallings-out of lovers which are the
renewal of love, Lady Dunmelraise turned
the conversation entirely upon the coming
drawing-room, and the more interest she
seemed to take in her daughter's going into
the gay world, the more grave did Lord
Albert become: this was a contradiction to
what he had expressed respecting that measure,
and, as Lady Dunmelraise thought, a
caprice of temper, which she was sorry to
observe in him. She hoped, however, that
the thoughts which involuntarily arose in her
mind were groundless, and she determined
not to act precipitately; but felt glad that she
was come to town, where she would have an
opportunity of judging further, and of seeing
how matters stood from her own personal
observation of Lord Albert's conduct. She
considered that to probe her daughter's feelings
upon the subject, would be to excite them
so painfully, that they might destroy the power
of a cool judgment. She therefore resolved
to postpone any avowal of her own sentiments,
any positive declaration of her own
doubts, till the time, which was now fast approaching,
for Lady Adeline's ultimate decision,
should afford her a proper opportunity
of speaking her mind unreservedly to Lord
Albert; unless, indeed, circumstances of an
imperious kind relative to his conduct should
make such a step necessary before that
period.
In this disposition of mind, the parties
could not enjoy each other's society. The
conversation was broken, interrupted, and in
itself devoid of interest; so that when Lord
Albert arose to take his leave about ten
o'clock, Lady Adeline almost felt it a relief.
"What, are you going to leave us so soon?"
said Lady Dunmelraise, with visible surprise.
"I am sorry that a particular engagement
obliges me to go."
"And may I ask," rejoined Lady Dunmelraise,
in her quick way when she was not
pleased at any thing, "may I take the
liberty of asking where you are going?"
"Oh, certainly--to Lady Tilney's."
"To Lady Tilney's _party_!" with a marked
emphasis on the last word; and then checking
herself, and resuming her usual dignity
of composure, she added, "I hope you will
have an agreeable _soirée_; when one lives out
of the world, and grows old, one forgets the
delights of these sort of re-unions; but, of
course, one must do in London as they do in
London; and I believe, like most other things,
the habit of attending them becomes a second
nature." Lord Albert smiled--it might be
in acquiescence, it might be in disdain; and
with many good-nights, he slightly touched
the hands of Lady Dunmelraise and her
daughter, and departed.
There was a silence, an awkward silence;
neither liked to express the thought that was
uppermost in her mind, for fear of wounding
the other. At length Lady Dunmelraise
spoke: "It is strange," she said, "to observe
the sort of hold which foolish things sometimes
obtain over sensible men. The class of persons
with whom Lord Albert seems now to be
living, are not those I should have conceived
that he would ever have selected; but fashion
leads young people to do a thousand silly
things, which they repent when their ripened
judgment shews them in their true colours;
and to say truth, I think Lord Albert's manners
altogether have not gained by foreign
travel. But I suppose I must not express
such treason to you, Adeline?" Lady Adeline
tried to smile, as she replied:
"I have hardly had time to judge;" and
Lady Dunmelraise turned the discourse rather
on the associates of Lord Albert than on
himself.
"The persons," she said, "he named to
us as having been at Restormel, and with
whom he now appears so much engaged, are
those who live entirely for this world: and
not even for the most dignified employments
or pursuits of this present existence. Fortune,
health, and morals, are all likely to become
the prey of a voracious appetite for
pleasure; and when we live only to pleasure,
we lose all title to being rational souls, and
make a wreck of happiness. I am willing to
hope and believe, that many are ensnared
to tread this Circean circle who are in ignorance
of what it leads to; who see in it only a
brilliant phantom of amusement, a glittering
_ignis fatuus_ that pleases their fancy, but which,
alas! I fear, too frequently leads them on,
till some entanglement of fortune, or virtue,
levels them with its worse members; and from
which it is a mercy indeed if they ever escape."
Lady Adeline had listened to her mother
with an interest that made her shudder.
"And is it, indeed," she cried, "in such a
set that Albert is thrown!" while the paleness
of her countenance expressed the anguish of
her mind.
"I trust not, my dearest child. I do
not mean to say, for I have no right so
to say, that Lord Albert is habitually one of
this set;--heaven forbid!--but that he frequents
their society appears evident. However,
let us not think evil before it actually
occurs; let us judge dispassionately, and see
for ourselves. You are now, my love, to enter
into the great world under an excellent and
loving guide; and having warned you, I leave
your own good sense to do the rest." Lady
Adeline sighed heavily, and did not seem able
at all to rally her spirits. "Now, love, let us
turn to lighter matters," said Lady Dunmelraise,
"and consider the arrangements of
your presentation dress."
"I should prefer its being as simple as possible,"
said Lady Adeline, "and the rest I
leave entirely to your, and," she added hesitatingly,
"to Lord Albert's tastes." Her
mother shortly after proposed retiring for the
night, and trembled as she saw how deeply
her daughter's happiness seemed to depend
on Lord Albert, perceiving that she referred
every trifle to his arbitration.
When he left South Audley Street to go
to Lady Tilney's supper party, Lord Albert
ran over again in his mind the occurrences of
the day, and in Lady Adeline's silence, her
manner, her looks, he thought he read an
indifference towards himself, which at once
piqued and wounded him. In all that had
fallen from Lady Dunmelraise, in all that he
could gather from _her_ manner towards himself,
he could not fix on any thing unkind or
unjust; but from the consciousness of his own
conduct not having been what it ought, his
heart was ill at ease, and he knew not with
what right he felt angry; but yet he did so
feel, and was tempted to inveigh against
the fickleness of woman, while a thought of
Mr. Foley obtruded itself among all the rest,
and shewed him an imaginary rival.
"Can all this," he asked himself, "be only
preparatory to her breaking off her engagement
altogether?"
Such was the mood of mind in which Lord
Albert entered Lady Tilney's drawing-rooms,
and as hardly any of the invited were as yet
come from the Opera, he had leisure unmolested
to walk through them. They were brilliantly
lighted, and filled with all the rifled
sweets of the green-house; sweets, which
seem but ill suited in their fresh purity for the
scene they were brought to adorn.
While the apartments were still empty, he
had an opportunity of examining some of the
works of art with which they were decorated.
He stopped opposite to a Claude, which was
certainly a contrast to the feelings of his own
mind. The glowing sunrise, the dancing
wave, the palace of the Medici, the business
of a sea-port, conveyed him in idea to the
Pitti Palace. "Often as that subject has been
repeated," he said, turning to Mr. Francis
Ombre, "by the same pencil, it is always new,
always redolent of repose and pleasure; the
scintillating sunbeams are still emblematic
of that dancing of the heart, which in the
morning of our days gilds every thing with
beauty: no, there is no after-pleasure which
can equal the sunrise of existence; and if
ever picture conveyed a moral truth, the pictures
of Claude most assuredly have this
power."
"Yes," replied Mr. Ombre, "I love to
sun myself at a Claude, it is the only sun one
does see in this climate." Lord Albert passed
on, sighing as he went, and his attention was
again arrested by an antique bust of Psyche:
"What refinement of tenderness in the eyelid;
what soul in the curvature of the lip!
how the line swells, and then is lost again in
the almost dimpling roundness of the chin!
how child-like, and yet how replete with
meaning, the turn of the head and neck! it is
at once the bud, the flower, the fruit of beauty
amalgamated and embodied in the marble."
It was indeed an emblem of soul. And
of whom did it remind Lord Albert? Of
his own Adeline. His own! there was an
electric touch in the thought--was she _indeed
still his own_, or had he lost her for ever?
Lady Hamlet Vernon had stood unperceived
by him, watching him for some previous
minutes, and by that sense which
never fails to inform a woman in love, she
felt certain from his manner of looking at
the Psyche, that it conveyed more to interest
him than any mere ideas of _virtù_ could possibly
do.
Her agitation was extreme, and she could
scarcely master it so as to wear a semblance
of composure; at length, though the part
she had to play was a difficult one, she determined
on fulfilling her assignation; and
having previously decided how she should
manage what she had to do, she went up to
him, and at the very moment he was asking
himself whether or not he had lost Adeline
for ever, a soft voice awoke him to a sense of
who and where he was: he turned round and
beheld Lady Hamlet Vernon. The recognition
of any one whom we believe has an interest
in us when the heart feels desolate, is a
powerful cordial to the spirits.
Lord Albert greeted her with an animation of
pleasure that he was scarcely himself aware
of, and which elicited from her an answering
sentiment of kindness, that at once cheered
and gave him new life. "I have much to say
to you," he whispered; "let us sit down in
yonder alcove, which is unoccupied, and
where we may have an opportunity of speaking
unheard by others." He offered her his
arm, which she accepted, and they moved to
that part of the apartment. At the same instant
Lady Glenmore entered, leaning on her
husband's arm, and a crowd followed which
filled the room. Among these, Mr. Leslie
Winyard and Lady Tenderden were conspicuous
personages: but Lady Glenmore was
the _nouveauté du jour_. When Georgina Melcomb
was an unmarried girl, nobody looked
at her, or thought about her; but now that
she was to play a part, and in her turn become
a card to play in the game of fashion, all eyes
were fixed upon her. At this moment she
was the very picture of innocent happiness,
and in the countenance of her husband shone
the reflection of her own felicity. There is
something in that sort of happiness which
involuntarily inspires respect, and to all
hearts that are not dead to nature, there is
awakened a simultaneous sensation of pleasure.
But yet there are serpents in the world,
who, envious of such pure bliss, seek only its
destruction. "Really," said Mr. Leslie Winyard
to Lady Tenderden, "that is a fine-looking
creature!" speaking of Lady Glenmore
as she stood talking with animation to
her husband, "and when she has rubbed
off a little of her coarseness, and become
somewhat less conjugally affected, I don't
know but what I may do her the honour to
talk to her sometimes myself." Lady Tenderden
laughed as she replied,
"There is no saying how condescending
you may become--but when do you intend to
begin? don't you see that if she is allowed to
go on in this way, she will never get out Of
it? and as I have undertaken her education
myself, I do beg that you will by some contrivance
unhook her from Lord Glenmore, and
leave me to engage his attention while I make
my pupil over to you for the evening, _vraiment
ça vaut la peine_; only _la jeune Ladi est
tant soit peu maussade et il faut la mettre sur
le bon chemin_."
"With all my heart; if you will only
begin the attack I will follow it up."
"_Allons donc_," she replied, taking his arm
and going towards the Glenmores.
The usual nothings of common-place talk,
the unmeaning greetings, and the self-same
observations on singers and dancers which
have been made a hundred times before, opened
the meditated campaign. "My dear Lord
Glenmore," said Lady Tenderden, "I have
long wished to consult you about a _changement
de décoration_" (and she looked at Mr.
Leslie Winyard) "which I purpose making in
my house in town, and I have some thoughts
of copying in part the Rotunda-room which
is here, only there are some objections to be
made to it, which I wish to avoid if possible,
and I am desirous that you should assist me
with your perfection of taste; have the kindness
for a moment to come with me--but I
could not think of giving Lady Glenmore that
trouble. There, Mr. Winyard, while I run
away with my lord, do you make the _preux
chevalier_, and defend Lady Glenmore from
all dangers."
So saying, she passed her arm through
Lord Glenmore's and led him away. Lady
Glenmore looked for a moment as if she
intended to follow, and even half rose from
her chair for that purpose; but the lessons
Lady Tenderden had given her about
not seeming to pursue her husband recurred
to her, and she sat down again, blushing and
breathless, and evidently discomposed. Mr.
Leslie Winyard enjoyed the scene: "shall I
call Lord Glenmore back again?" he asked,
after fixing his eyes upon her maliciously,
"or will you allow me to conduct you to
him?" and he smiled, evidently in ridicule at
her awkwardness. But she was not a fool,
though ignorant of the ways of the world; and
in a few minutes she recovered herself, and
spoke uncommonly well on common-place
topics, to the astonishment of her hearer:
she even passed upon the set to which he
belonged some very stinging remarks, the
more so from their being uttered as if unconscious
that they were so, or that he was one
of the persons to whom they applied.
"Do you know," said he, gazing at her with
looks of admiration, "do you know you are
a very extraordinary personage? Suffer me to
say that this is all very well in joke, but if
you are _serious_ in your opinions, we must
undergo a great revolution, or we shall not
be at all able to live with you. I do not pretend,"
he said, "to decide who is in the right
or who is in the wrong, but I am very certain
of one thing, a change must take place
somewhere, if your ideas of things in general
are correct." Lady Glenmore replied, "that
she was very certain her ideas would _not_
change;" to which he rejoined, "_nous verrons_."
At that moment a move in the room
announced that every one was going to supper,
and the doors were thrown open into an
adjoining apartment, towards which there
was a general rush. Lady Glenmore again
cast her eye anxiously around, but in vain--her
husband was not to be seen.
"Allow me," said two or three young men,
offering their arm to her, "to hand you to
supper," and in the confusion she took that
of Mr. Leslie Winyard. "But," he observed,
"you seem so uneasy, that if you will allow
me, I will merely see you agreeably placed,
and go in quest of this envied Lord Glenmore."
"You are very good," she replied, "but
I cannot think of giving you that trouble."
"Oh dear, I beg you will not mention it;
and the mission is so new a one, that I am
particularly proud to be employed in executing
it."
"How, new? Is there any thing extraordinary
in wishing to know whether one's husband
chooses one should go home, or whether
he stays supper or not?"
"Yes, Lady Glenmore! most new! most
wonderful! But I do not think it is a fashion
that will generally take. But here is
a table with some seats unoccupied. Will
you allow me to recommend your availing
yourself of it? It seems to be the choice of the
chosen; here is Lady Hamlet Vernon, and
Lord D'Esterre, and the Boileaus, and the
Ellersbys, and Mr. Spencer Newcomb; do
take this seat, and I will go in quest of your
lord and _master_. But see, he has not fallen
into any of the whirlpools or quicksands that
you seem to apprehend for him in these dangerous
regions, for by all that is fortunate
there he is next to Lady Tenderden."
"Where?" cried Lady Glenmore, looking
eagerly around.
"The third table from us, just behind
Lady Baskerville; however, if you are still
_uneasy_, you have only to command me."
"No, it is his intention to remain for supper,
and all is well, for if he had wanted me he
would have sought for me."
"Always depend upon that. And now what
shall I help you to?" Lady Glenmore, in
her own mind, was not at all satisfied as to
the danger of whirlpools and quicksands,
though they were of another sort from those
Mr. Winyard had passed his jokes on; but
again Lady Tenderden's advice recurred to
her, which had acquired consequence from
Lord Glenmore's opinion of that lady, and
she endeavoured to enter into the conversation
of those around her. It was a sort of
dead language as yet to her ears, but she
could perceive that, under disguise, many
allusions were made to herself, and to her untutored
behaviour, which checked her natural
flow of spirits, and she gradually became silent,
and could no longer conceal her anxious
impatience to be once more safe under her
husband's wing. The very first person that
arose afforded her an opportunity of doing so
likewise, and making a sign to Lord Glenmore,
she waited for him in the door-way.
He was not long before he joined her, and
with apparently mutual satisfaction they once
more found themselves together. This difference,
however, existed in their feelings, that
Lord Glenmore, though honourable himself,
and incapable of thinking really ill of others,
however he might consider them trifling, yet
from habit and the manners of the world, had
not an idea of watching his wife's conduct in
public.
Lord Glenmore's character has been already
described; but it has not perhaps been sufficiently
explained how very much his guileless
unsuspecting nature laid him open to become
the prey of others who were the reverse.
Let no man cast a young wife (unprepared for
the dangers she will meet with) upon the
licentious intercourse of the world of _ton_, nor
leave her, unguarded by his presence and
authority, to stem the tide of vice which may
steal in upon her unawares. It is a husband's
duty to be the guide and support of his wife;
and, without tyranny, but with the determined
rectitude of tender solicitude, to watch over
their mutual interests. The maxim so often
quoted, that "the wife whom a man can doubt
is not worthy of his regard," is not always a
true one. Every mortal is liable to err--and
why should woman, the weaker sex, be cast
upon the world, and committed to its dangers,
without stay or support from her natural
guardian and protector?
The fact is, it is a maxim often resorted to
in idleness or indifference, and is more frequently
an apology for bad conduct in those
who make it, than arising from any true nobility
of soul or any moral or religious principle.
Lord Glenmore, from living in the midst of
the world of fashion, and from never having
(a rare instance) been spoiled by such a life,
was less aware than any human being perhaps
of the danger to which he was exposing his
young wife. Had any body told him the terms
upon which she was to be admitted as one of
the _élite_ of _ton_, in plain language, he would
have started with disgust and horror from all
such association; but, like some few, deceived
as he was by specious appearances, he saw
nothing in the set but the airiness of fashion,
and the folly, at worst, of a few months during
the London season; whereas the truth stood
thus.--
The husband of an Exclusive must be exclusively
given to his own devices, without ever
making his wife a party at all concerned in
them; unless, indeed, they arrive at that _acmé_
of exclusive perfection when they boast to
each other of the degrading license of their
lives, and tell of their different favourites,
comparing the relative merits of these with
that of others of the same society. Into the
mysteries of an exclusive _coterie_ no unmarried
woman, that is to say, no girls, are to be admitted--in
order that the conversation may be
unchecked. The more admirers a married
woman has, the higher her reputation amongst
them; and it is never quite complete till some
one _adorateur_ moving in the same circle is the
_ami preféré_. If the cavalier be a man of title,
power, and wealth, then the lady has _the
world--their_ world--at her feet. This arrangement
ensures the latter (whatever her husband's
fortune may be) the advantages of dress
and equipage, from which expense _he_ is then
exonerated; and while he has the credit of
keeping up a tasteful establishment, he is
exempted from all trouble or thought as to the
means by which it is so kept. But as in all
communities there are different degrees of
distinction, so in this,--those who commence
their career have a certain rubicon to pass
through before they arrive at such a height of
perfection.
The first requisite for a newly-initiated
member to know is, how to cut all friends
and relations who are not deemed worthy of
being of a certain _coterie_;--the next, is to dress
after a particular fashion, talk a particular
species of language, not know any thing or
any person that does not carry the mark of the
coterie, and speak in a peculiar tone of voice.
To hold any conversation which deserves that
name is called being prosy;--to understand
any thing beyond the costume of life, pedantic.
Whatever vice or demoralization may exist
in character, providing it exist with what they
call good taste (that idol of their idolatry), is
varnished over. If not approved openly, it is
tacitly assented to, and allowed to pass as a
venial error; whereas whatever takes place
contrary to this _good taste_, though in itself
perfectly innocent, tending it may be to virtue
rather than vice, is insufferable--not to be
named _among them_; and unfits the offending
parties from communication with the Exclusives.
Indignation expressed at crime is voted
vulgar; any natural expression of the feelings,
ill-breeding; and right and wrong, in
short, consists in being, or not being, _one of
the set_. To their choice meetings children
dare not invite parents, or brothers and
sisters of one another, except under their seal
and sign-manual. The husbands and wives,
who are members of the association, are
invariably persons who have separate interests,
separate views, and agree only in this
one point, namely, in being a cloak for each
other's follies or vices.
It is to be hoped, and indeed may be asserted
with truth, that many are ensnared to
tread this Circean circle who are in ignorance
of what it leads to; who see in it only
a brilliant phantasm of pleasure and of pride;
an _ignis fatuus_ that pleases their fancy; but
which terminates too frequently in leading
them on, till some entanglement of fortune,
or virtue, levels them with its worse members;
and from which it is a mercy indeed if
they ever escape.
An open defiance of received laws and customs,
a coarse career of vicious pleasure, a
bold avowal of any illegitimate pursuit, would
startle and astound many a wavering mind;
but the slow-sapping mischief of this love of
exclusiveness, the airy indifference with which
all the safeguards of conduct are broken
down, the cruel heartlessness which lies concealed
under apparently indifferent actions,
the artful weaning of the mind from all fixed
principle of conduct, these are the means
they use; and which, step by step, adulterate
the character, indurate the heart, pollute the
judgment, and are subversive of every thing
that is dignified or amiable in human nature.
It is precisely because the evil works so insidiously,
and under such a variety of masks
(under none more than a placid _insouciance_),
a fortuitous occurrence of accidents--that the
veil should be drawn aside, and that it should
be set forth in its native deformity and danger.