TRUE NOBILITY.
It must not be supposed that Lady Hamlet
Vernon admitted to herself that she was the
mover of _premeditated_ evil. Impelled by violent
impulse, it is true she hesitated not in
adopting means of any kind to attain her
wishes; for she invariably succeeded in reasoning
herself, however falsely, into a belief
that she had at least some apology to gloss
over, if not to justify, the measures she pursued.
Whatever calm she had assumed in her
late interview with Lord D'Esterre, she suffered
in secret the most painful agitation: the
violence she had done her feelings, in concealing
the disappointment she endured on
Lord Albert D'Esterre's leaving Restormel,
and the restraint that those feelings had since
undergone before she found a favourable opportunity
of speaking to him, all contributed
(when at length that opportunity at Lady
Tilney's supper-party did present itself) to
render their indulgence more overwhelming.
When she returned home that night, the
sleepless hours of suffering she passed were
not less painful in degree than those in which
Lord D'Esterre shared; with this difference
only in their nature, that the anguish endured
by him was of a varied and mixed kind;
whereas the whole mass of Lady Hamlet's
wishes were centred in an uncontrolled
passion for him; a passion which, since
she had allowed it to wear its undisguised
character, she found a thousand plausible
reasons for admitting to control her every
thought.
There was no cause, she argued, sufficiently
strong in Lord D'Esterre's engagement
with Lady Adeline to forbid the indulgence
of her love for him; _she_ had no relative
duties to sway her conduct--she was her
own mistress: and in the opinion of the
world--_her_ world at least--she would be
justified, where envy did not bias the
judgment, in endeavouring to form so desirable
a connexion. However Lord Albert
D'Esterre might have been ostensibly considered
by the members of the exclusive
circle as one of themselves, and however
much they affected to deride and despise his
principles and habits, yet as a man whose
talents promised to shine in the senate, and
whose interest was considerable, his actions
were not, in fact, quite so undervalued, or so
indifferent to the leading personages of that
body, as they might on a cursory view appear
to be. He was still, Lady Tilney thought,
too young, in her political way of viewing
every thing, and had not given sufficient
proofs of firmness, as a party man, for any
direct overtures to be made to him on that
score. But in as far as regarded his admission,
in the first instance, to society amongst
her coterie, he owed that distinction to his
youth, his personal appearance, and his high
rank; to his youth especially, as fitting him
to become, under clever tuition, an obedient
satellite; and when his very attractive exterior
and manners, which were at once dignified
and original, were added to the account, it
is not to be wondered that he was reckoned
a person worth courting, and a character
worth forming, which might be incorporated,
in due time, as one of their own.
Still there was a probationary state to pass
through before any one was actually admitted
into the arena of that circle. Lady Hamlet
Vernon, however, who from his first appearance
had marked him with her peculiar approbation,
was very clear-sighted as to the
views which might be formed of others respecting
an appropriation of him to their own
purposes; and she thought she perceived,
almost from the first, in the politic and eager
attentions of Lady Tilney towards him, as
well as in those of her silent but not uninterested
lord, some ulterior object in obtaining
his favour and confidence, which she
imagined might also turn to her own account,
as affording herself means to acquire an influence
over him of another nature.
It is surprising with what quick perception
women will discover the most hidden sentiments
of others, when they have the remotest
reference to the object of their favour and
predilection; and many a man owes his success
in life to the unceasing, and perhaps unknown
endeavours to serve him, of some devoted,
and it may be, unrequited heart. Who
will watch like a woman over those minute
details, which swell the aggregate of greater
means? Who can feel, as a woman can,
those vibrations of circumstances which may
enable her to seize upon favourable moments,
those _mollissima tempora fandi_, when the
current of success may be directed to the
object of her wishes. Lady Hamlet was well
skilled to do all this, and from the first of
Lord Albert's appearance in the circle in
which she moved, her most diligent attention
was ever awake to all that concerned him.
She perceived that whenever he was spoken
of, the Tilneys were particularly cautious
and guarded in giving their opinion; and
she was not mistaken in thence arguing
that they were aware he might become a
man of high consequence, in every sense of
the term, as well as in their own peculiar
acceptation of it.
Lady Hamlet Vernon felt that in this they
had not formed an erroneous view of him,
for she read ambition in his character: and
though the species of that quality of mind
was certainly very different in Lord Albert
and in herself, yet its general nature was no
stranger to her, and she knew it to be too
powerful a lever in human actions to overlook
or disregard it in this instance. On the
contrary, she determined to use it in behalf of
her own views; and from this motive she dwelt
with energy on the subject of Lord Albert's
prospects for the future, while conversing
with him at Lady Tilney's. She then
found she was touching a master-key to open
the secret recesses of his mind and feelings.
In its very first application, she had found it
more than answer her expectations; and the
consciousness that the apparent harmony of
her sentiments with his on this point, had
established an interest in and obtained an
influence over the very main-spring of Lord
Albert D'Esterre's being, inspired her with
the liveliest hope.
No mercenary views, it is true, no mean
love of power for little ends, actuated her,
but a violent and overpowering passion,
which, however, was equally subversive of
rectitude of conduct, since it was neither
guided by principle, nor restrained by moral
or religious control. It was not directly any
selfishness of motive that impelled her to
the course she was pursuing, for she would
have gone blindly forward in any plan the
most contrary to her interests, her habits, or
her feelings, which promised to draw her into
a union of sentiment with the object of her
passion; but those who suffer themselves to
be directed by such impulses, are under complete
delusion respecting the estimate they
form of themselves. Whenever passion obtains
the mastery, the effect is equally certain;
the wholesome freedom of a mind at liberty
is gone; and when once enslaved, it becomes
like a wave of the sea, tossed about in every
direction the sport of winds, and is as liable
to dash into ruin, as to use any power it may
possess to beneficial purposes.
Whilst the fever of agitation swayed Lady
Hamlet Vernon, she gave herself up in
secret to the inebriating delight of dwelling
upon Lord Albert's looks and words, during
their last interview; she recalled the expression
of his eyes, as he gazed at her while she
was speaking; she still seemed to feel the
pressure of his hand thrill through her veins,
as when he received the ring she gave him
in pledge of friendship; but as these intoxicating
sensations subsided, she relapsed again
into fear, lest she should have gone too far at
first; lest any thing she had said or looked
might have appeared too violent, too plainly
have told the tale of her feelings, ere time
had ripened the moment when their disclosure
might be more in unison with his
wishes. Then again she hoped that her agitation
might have been attributed alone to the
caution which she had ventured to give him
respecting Lady Adeline; and that she gave
him such caution, she trusted would have been
ascribed to a friendly feeling for his happiness.
"Yes, his happiness!" she repeated
to herself; "for I could sacrifice my own to
secure that boon for him. It is not from
motives of jealousy that I did so warn him,
for I could bear to see him the husband of
another, providing that other were really
worthy of him, one who would share in his
views, his plans, his feelings; but to unite
himself with a woman wholly unfit for him--a
girl, a weak insipid girl, made up of puritanical
observances and prejudices--no, I could
not see him set the seal to his future misery
by allowing him to remain in ignorance of
a fact which is known to all the world except
himself."
In this sophistical manner did Lady
Hamlet Vernon argue herself into the belief
that no selfish motive impelled her, but
that she was acting a noble part, and as
the end designed was good, the means she
thought were so likewise. In flattering
this belief, she recalled every look and
gesture of Lord Albert D'Esterre, and she
thought she had perceived that he entertained
a feeling of jealousy towards Mr.
Foley. "Perhaps," she said, musing on that
point, to which she had not before given her
full attention, "perhaps his jealousy is not
without foundation. Why is Mr. Foley so
much at Dunmelraise? The circumstance
of Lady Dunmelraise's protection of him
through life, is not sufficient cause. After
all, why should he not marry Lady
Adeline, if she likes him? It would be a
union much more consonant with Mr. Foley's
happiness (inasmuch as he would not care
what were her ways of thinking) than it
would be for the noble-minded, aspiring
D'Esterre."
In this new point of view Lady Hamlet
Vernon found another specious argument in
favour of her own conduct, and her secret
wishes; and if indeed this latter assumption
of a fact were true, she would be doing a
doubly generous action, in forwarding the
wishes of her friend Mr. Foley, while she at
the same time saved Lord D'Esterre from
a step that would inevitably render him
unhappy.
Such were the false reasonings with which
Lady Hamlet Vernon justified her feelings
and her conduct to herself, and under their
sway, she awaited with the utmost anxiety
and impatience for Lord D'Esterre on the
following morning. But it was late before he
came, and he was abstracted and silent when
he did arrive; unlike the animated being
whom she had witnessed speaking to her
with such force and expression of lively
feeling on the previous evening. The fact
is, Lord Albert D'Esterre had been at Lady
Dunmelraise's, where he had found Adeline
alone; and as, in her converse and presence,
there was a soothing calm, a persuasive assurance,
even in her silence, of her perfect
purity and truth, those feelings of jealous
doubt and mistrust that had preyed upon
him before his visit to her, had gradually
subsided while under the influence of her
immediate power. Above all, the interest
she expressed for him, the alarm she declared
she felt on beholding his haggard
look, and suddenly changed appearance,
awoke in his breast all those tender feelings
which it was a second nature for him
to cherish towards her.
He felt indeed that he could have laid his
head on her breast, confessed his folly, and
wept out his fault in having for a moment
suspected her; "but then again," he thought,
"it will be time enough thus to humble
myself when I see proof that my suspicions
are indeed groundless; and I shall not be
acting up to my resolution, if I allow a moment
of tenderness to put it out of my
power to certify the truth of her's."
Mr. Foley's name was not once mentioned
during his visit. Mr. Foley did not appear;
and for the time Lord Albert D'Esterre felt
happy. "We shall see," he said to himself,
"if this fair shew is real; a short time will
serve to prove its truth, and then my happiness
will stand on a secure basis."
He took leave, therefore, of Lady Adeline
with a mind much relieved, and having
impressed her also with the sensation that
he felt towards her, all he had ever felt; but
no sooner did he quit her presence, than,
with that waywardness of spirit, which is too
often apt to embitter our best interests, he
was impelled to call on Lady Hamlet Vernon,
for the sole purpose, as he fancied, of
gathering indirectly from her conversation a
more clear insight into the subject of her
discourse. But in her presence, he in vain
endeavoured to lead her to it; she avoided
all reference, however remote, to the cause
of his inquietude, and when she touched on
the topic of his public career in life, Lord
Albert felt that it was done in so vague
and wary a manner, as to afford him no clue
whatever to what engrossed at that moment
all his thoughts, and he involuntarily became
silent, and manifested an indifference to
all farther converse. When he arose to take
his leave, if he was less happy than when he
had left Lady Adeline, he was not conscious
of any reason why it should be so; but that
of which he could not fail to be conscious, was
the sensation that a spell was spread around
him, whenever he approached Lady Hamlet
Vernon.
To her inquiries if he would join her circle
in the evening, and if he were one of those
invited to the water-party the following day,
he answered with apparent indifference; and,
with a doubtful half-formed promise to attend
her in the evening, he left the house.
He was bewildered and uneasy; dissatisfied
with himself, and consequently with all the
world; and Lady Hamlet Vernon was miserable
on her part at witnessing his change
of manner, and remarking the serious and
preoccupied expression of his countenance,
which seemed totally at variance with her
wishes.
That evening Lord Albert dedicated to a
few hours of quiet in his own apartments;
but the habit, of any kind, which has once
been broken through, is not so easily resumed;
and in particular the power of sober
application to serious pursuits is hardly by
any man to be laid by and recovered at will.
The mind which is suffered to float about,
driven by the winds of chance, becomes unfitted
for fixed attention to any one particular
point; and the effort is painful which must
be made before it can be brought to bear on
reflective subjects, after having been suffered
to follow the vague direction of the feelings,
or the yet more debilitating influence of dissipation.
Lord Albert acknowledged this, as he had
recourse to various books for amusement.
His attention wandered; and now he was at
Lady Dunmelraise's, now at Lady Hamlet
Vernon's--but never was he on the subject
of the leaves which he vainly turned over;
and after an evening spent in vacuity, he felt
as fatigued, and more dispirited than had he
been deeply engaged in some mental effort.
The consciousness of this lowered state of
being was exceedingly uneasy to him. He
was one who, for so young a man, had
learnt thoroughly to know the value of time,
and when it was thus utterly lost or misapplied,
he could not forgive himself for the
irreparable fault.
Lord Albert, too, had an impression fixed
indelibly on his mind, that when we are not
advancing we are retrograding in our mental
or moral course of existence; and fortunately
for him, he was yet keenly sensible to the
reproaches of conscience. His determination
at the moment, therefore, to redeem this
heavy loss was salutary and sincere; and he
felt a renovation in his whole being when he
took his early walk next day to Lady Dunmelraise's,
full of the good resolutions he
had formed the preceding day. To be in the
presence of Lady Adeline Seymour, was like
being in the sunshine of spring. There was
an habitual serenity about her, which seemed
to animate all around her; every thing and
every sentiment of Adeline's was in its right
place--no one took undue precedence of the
other; the harmony of her form and features
was a true reflection of her happily disposed
nature; but that nature owed its very essence
and continuance to the great ruling
feeling of her mind. Every thought, and every
action, were immediately or remotely under
the guidance of pious belief: the nature of
her happiness could not be uprooted by any
earthly power; she might suffer _anguish
here_; but she had a secret and secure joy
that those only know who, like her, fix the
anchor of their trust on an hereafter.
Having spent the greater part of the morning
in such society, Lord Albert tacitly acknowledged
its superiority to that in which
he had lately lived, and the invitation he
received to dine in South Audley Street was
eagerly accepted. The party which he found
assembled at Lady Dunmelraise's consisted
chiefly of her family,--Lord and Lady Delamere,
their two sons and daughter, and a
few other persons who came in the evening.
Lord Delamere was a shy man, and his shyness
had sometimes the effect of pride; but
the estimable points in his character were of
such sterling value, that his friends loved him
with a zeal of attachment which spoke volumes
in his praise; and he was looked up to
by his family, not only as their father, but
their companion: nothing could be more
beautiful than the union which subsisted between
them; nothing more truly worthy of
imitation than the virtuous dignity with which
they filled their high station.
Lady Delamere still possessed great beauty;
and the charm that never dies, the charm
of fascination of manner and of air, defied
the inroads which time makes on mere personal
beauty. She was one of those very
few women, who unite to feminine gentleness
the qualities ascribed to a masculine mind.
At the time she married, her husband's affairs
were so much involved, that nothing but the
utmost self-denial could possibly retrieve
them: and she entered into his plans of retrenchment
with an alacrity and vigour,
which proved her to be a wife indeed; not
the play-thing of an hour, to deck the board,
or gratify the vanity of the possessor, but a
companion, a friend, a helpmate, one who
in retirement possessed resources that could
enliven and cheer the solitary hour: who
knew she was loved, and felt she deserved to
be so, with that security of honest pride,
which the consciousness of desert never fails
to impart in married life, and yet whose
refinement and delicacy of feeling never lost
the elegancies of polished manners, because
there were no novel objects to excite a sickly
appetite for admiration.
To please is certainly the peculiar attribute
and business of woman, in every relation
of life; and those who neglect to foster
and keep alive this power, reject one of the
greatest means which Providence has placed
in their hands to effect mighty operations of
good. But there is a false and spurious kind
of pleasing which must not be confounded
with the true. Every woman will know
how to distinguish these in her own conscience.
When the wish to please is a
mere gratification of vanity, when it lives
always beyond the circle of her own hearth,
and dies as soon as it is called upon for
exercise within domestic walls; then, indeed,
it may be known for what it is: but
when, as in Lady Delamere's case, this virtue
shone most splendidly confined to the sphere
of home, its price was above rubies; in
short it might truly be said of her, "the
heart of her husband doth safely trust in
her."
At the time when Lord Delamere was
in the greatest difficulties, he did not, as
too many do, fly to a foreign country, to continue
the life of self-indulgence which he
could no longer maintain in his own; he
did not make it an excuse for forsaking his
patrimony, and the seat of his ancestors,
that he could not live there in that splendour
which he had formerly done; but with a
spirit of true pride he said: "the land of
my forefathers with bread and water, rather
than banishment and luxuries." He
made no secret of his poverty; and it was a
means of clothing him with honour: for
with patience in his solitude he found content,
and with content all things. His self-denial
enabled him to be generous to others:
and the very act of living on his estates, gave
bread to hundreds. Lady Delamere went
hand in hand with him in all his plans; and
they pursued, for some years, with untiring
step, the path of duty which they had marked
out.
Meanwhile, their family grew up around
them, and every thing prospered--for a
blessing went along with them: they were
adored by their dependents; honoured even
by those who hated them for their superiority;
and with the occasional visit of a
relative or friend their time flowed on, fruitful
in its course, and fraught with real and
substantial happiness.
But in this their retirement they were not
forgotten. It is not those who are fluttering
about their empty shewy existence in the
sunshine of pleasure and splendour whose
memories live longest, even in that very
world they so busily court. All great and
useful works are the fruit of retirement; all
strength of character is formed, not in indulgence
and prosperity, but in retreat, and
under the grave hand of that schoolmaster
Adversity. The corn is not ripened till it receives
the first and the latter rain: neither is
the moral character formed to its great end,
till it has known the storms of adversity. The
Delameres had now reaped the fruits of this
earthly probation, and they shone forth with
lustre, which could not be eclipsed by any
tinsel splendour of mere outward grandeur.
The children of such parents could not be
supposed to be altogether different from
themselves, for though there are anomalies in
nature, it rarely happens that the offspring
are not like either father or mother, still
less that they are not ultimately influenced
by the example of parents.
When Lord Albert D'Esterre found himself
in this happy society, so different, and
yet, as he acknowledged to himself in every
passing moment, so superior to that in which
he had lately lived, he felt as if he also
were of another race of beings; a pleased
sort of self-satisfaction took possession of
him: so much are we affected by outward
things, so much does the mind reflect the
hues by which it is surrounded. Are these,
he thought, the persons whose names I have
been accustomed to hear coupled with ridicule
or condemnation--are these the persons
who are designated vulgar? Strange indeed
is the misnomer! And that there were
many in the same grade, whose characters
shed lustre upon their high stations, many
who constituted the true character of British
nobles, was a truth that Lord Albert had not
sufficiently considered; for where is there
a body in any country more worthy of respect
and admiration than the real nobility
of our land? It is only to be lamented that
the errors of the few, and the assumed superiority
of the _ton_, should have given ground
for a false estimate of those characters of
solid worth, whose virtues and whose ancient
ancestry reflect a mutual value on
each other; and the moral tranquillity of
whose lives is at once a dignified refutation
of the depreciation of high birth, and the
best confirmation of its real consequence.
But the middling classes, those who envy
their superiors, or those who would attain
to a distinction in society to which they have
no immediate claim, are too apt in these days
to form a mistaken judgment, founded upon
newspaper reports or the spurious publications
of the day, in which much false representation
is mingled with some gross truths,
and the delinquency of the few ascribed to the
conduct of the many. Nor is it these alone,
who are thus led into an erroneous opinion.
The public press produces a circulation of
good and evil, of truth or falsehood, universally;
and wherever the latter creeps in, there
ought to be an antidote administered. It
should not be suffered to smoulder and gain
force till it produce some serious mischief.
It should be told that the few individuals,
whose idle and trifling lives, and whose tenour
of conduct lay them open to contumely
and blame, do _not_ constitute the great mass
of English nobility. So far from it, they are
persons whose lives differ as much from the
general existence of their compeers, as does
the life of one individual in any class from
that of another. Vice is not confined to
nobility because a few great names have
sullied its brightness. It is a false conclusion
to consider _them_ as examples of their
caste, any more than the man in inferior
station, whose delinquency is proved, and
who suffers the penalty of the law, is to be
taken as a specimen of the people at large.
In the course of conversation at Lady
Dunmelraise's dinner, the ensuing drawing-room
was spoken of. "I am one of those
old-fashioned persons," said Lady Delamere,
"who feel a real pleasure in the thought of
going to court--for first, I shall have the
gratification of seeing my Sovereign, and of
presenting to him another branch of that
parent stock, who are personally as well as
on principle attached to him and to his
house. And though, doubtless, there are
many who share in these feelings, yet I will
yield the palm of loyalty and zeal to none;
and, in the second place, I do very firmly
believe that, in as far as society goes, a drawing-room
does much moral good. There
are certain lines drawn, which are useful to
remind persons in general, that vice is contemned,
and virtue honoured; and there is
a distinction, too, of time, and place, and situation,
which is not yet laid aside; I heartily
wish there were many more drawing-rooms
than there are."
Lord Delamere fully agreed with his
wife in this opinion--the young people did
not giggle and whisper, "what a bore it
will be," but coincided with their parents.
Lady Mary Delamere too declared, that she
thought there was no occasion better suited
to shew off real beauty to advantage than the
splendour of a mid-day assembly, where
every thing conspired to give people an air of
decorative style which they could not possess
at any other public meeting. "What pleasure,"
she continued, "I shall have in going
with my cousin Adeline, and gathering up all
the stray words of admiration, which I am sure
will abundantly fall in her praise. Do tell
me, love," addressing herself to her in a half
whisper, while the rest of the persons at
table conversed on other matters, "do tell
me of what colour is your dress, and how it
is to be trimmed?"
"Really," replied Lady Adeline, colouring
as though she had committed a crime, "I
have not thought about it. All I begged of
Mamma was, that it might be very simple,
and, I believe, of a rose-colour--for a rose is
my favourite flower."
"Dear child," said the good-natured
Lady Mary, "you must think about it now,
for the day is drawing near, and I shall
be so disappointed if you are not well
dressed."
"You are very kind, sweet cousin, but if
you only knew how very little I care about
the matter;" and she laughed heartily at the
idea of its being a subject of the least importance.
"But, Lord Albert D'Esterre," said Lady
Mary, appealing to him as he sat on the
other side of Lady Adeline, "you will
interfere, will you not? You will not be
pleased, I am sure, lovely as Adeline is, to see
her a _figure_ at a drawing-room."
"What sort of figure do you mean?" he
asked, smiling.
"Oh dear! you know well enough what
I mean--unbecomingly attired."
"I think," he replied, "that although
some figures will always be admired, still
there is no merit in disdaining the usages of
society or the advantages of dress, and that
the neglect of appearance may in a young
person be produced by some causes which
are not desirable." He looked fixedly at
Adeline as he spoke, and she blushed very
deeply; but answered with an unhesitating
voice:
"I shall be always desirous of pleasing
those I love, even in trifles; but I should be
sorry that trifles occupied their thoughts."
Lord Albert was silent; he felt a kind of
chill come over him, for the remembrance
of Lady Hamlet Vernon's instructions recurred
to him; and he thought he saw a
species of puritanical pride in the general
tenour of Lady Adeline's manner of thinking
and speaking, which seemed to justify the observations
she had made upon her character.
Then again he feared, that in other points
he might discover more reason still to be
dissatisfied--points on which his vital happiness
rested. He looked instinctively round
the room; but the person who at that
moment crossed his thoughts was not present,
and he again wrapped himself up in
that mood of suspicion, which is ever on
the alert to seek out the object which
would give it most pain; under this influence
he returned to the subject of Adeline's
presentation dress, and said, addressing
Lady Dunmelraise:
"I am not particularly an advocate for
splendid attire; but I am sure, Lady Dunmelraise,
you will agree with me in thinking,
that there is an affectation in going unadorned
to a court, which is a sort of disrespect
to the place."
"Indeed," said Lady Adeline, in her wild
eager way, "I will not go to much expenditure
on my dress, for I have a plan for doing
some good going on, which will require all
the money I can collect, and I should be very
sorry to see mamma wasting her's on any
thing which I so little prize as my court-dress."
Lady Dunmelraise only smiled, and replied,
"We must all subscribe to Adeline's
toilette, for she is the veriest miser on that
score herself. However, Lord Albert, do not
be uneasy, I think she will not disgrace us,"
and the pleased mother passed on to other
discourse.
This tenacity of Lady Adeline appeared to
be a confirmation of his suspicions; and
when, in the after part of the evening, Mr.
Foley was announced, Lord Albert lost all
command over himself, and under plea of
a bad head-ache, sat silent, that he might
the better watch every look and motion of
Lady Adeline and Mr. Foley. Turning every
indifferent word and gesture into the meaning
with which his jealousy clothed it, he fancied
that they were certainly mutually attached.
Whatever soothing attentions Lady Adeline
shewed to himself, he imagined were put
on for the purpose of deceiving him; and
his manner was so cold and haughty, that
she in her turn began to shrink within herself,
and to wear an abstracted, and somewhat
distressed countenance.
Under this impression, Mr. Foley, with
his _doucereux_ air, whispered Lady Adeline,
"that he was sure she was ill," and asked
her "to cast out the evil spirit by her sweet
power of music."
"Do, my love," said Lady Dunmelraise,
"sing that delightful duet, which is always
charming, '_O Momento fortunato!_' and
then I feel sure we shall be all love and
harmony--shall we not, Lord D'Esterre?"
The chords of the piano-forte relieved
him from the embarrassment of a reply, and
he listened to the impassioned tones of _poi
Doman, poi Doman l'altro_, ascribing to every
intonation and every sentiment of her feeling
voice the dictates of a passion for his
supposed rival.
"That used to be a favourite of yours,
Albert," said Lady Adeline when the duet
was finished; "but I am afraid your head-ache
prevents you from enjoying any thing
to-night."
"I do not feel well," he replied shortly;
"and lest my indisposition should in any
way affect the pleasure of others, I will
hasten away."
"Oh yes, you appear ill, indeed!" said
Lady Adeline, fixing her eyes tenderly on
his; "and, dear Albert, perhaps you had
better go--the noise of company may be
too much for you:" and she held out her
hand to him--"Oh, if you are unwell, by
all means go home," she repeated, with an
anxiety of tender interest, that no one else
could misinterpret to be any thing but
genuine affection, but which to him seemed
to spring from the desire of his absence.
"You shall be obeyed," he said, returning
her look reproachfully; and at the same time
reaching his hat, which happened to lie on
a table beyond Mr. Foley, he almost rudely
snatched it away, and with a celerity of
movement that admitted of no courtesy to
any one present, departed. Lady Dunmelraise
called after him, "Lord Albert, do
you dine here to-morrow?" But he heard
not, or affected not to hear, and with the
gnawing rage of blind jealousy darted into his
carriage, and gave the order, "home."
Soon after the rest of the party broke up;
and when Lady Dunmelraise and her daughter
found themselves once more alone, their
mutual silence proved that they both felt the
strangeness of Lord Albert's manner of departure.
But although the words were on
Lady Dunmelraise's tongue to utter--"_he is
capricious_,"--she restrained, and suffered
them to die away in silence, determined that
her daughter's own unbiassed judgment
should form for herself that opinion of Lord
Albert's character, which would soon now
ultimately decide on her acceptance or rejection
of him as her husband.