OFFICIAL LIFE.
It may be recollected, that when Lady
Glenmore returned from the water-party, she
was cruelly disappointed at finding only a
note from her husband. "How little," she
thought, as she sat at her toilette taking off
the dress which in the morning she had not
despised, as having been approved of and
admired by him, but which now she cast aside
with disdain--"how little men know how
to value the affections of a wife! I have been
for many hours in what is called a gay scene,
and during the whole of the time, I cannot
recal one moment when Glenmore was
not present to my fancy; but he, I dare say,
on the contrary, has not given a wish or a
sigh to me." She looked in the glass as she
thought this, and although a tear dimmed
her eye, vanity whispered, "ought this to
be so?"
"I am at least _pretty_; young, no one can
deny; yet I am neglected for a number of
old stupid men, a dull political discussion.
Oh, those vile politics! how I hate them.
And when he comes home, he will look so
grave, so preoccupied! Oh, I wish there was
no such thing in the world as a House of
Lords or Commons. Is life itself long enough
for love?--and must dull, dry business, consume
the hours of youth, pale his cheek,
perhaps blanch his hair, his beautiful hair,
for they say care has whitened the locks even
in one night! how very terrible this is."--And
she arose, and walked to and fro in her
room, and listened to every carriage that
rolled by--then she took up Lalla Rookh--read
some of the most impassioned passages,
and wished herself a Peri.
"I have but one wish," she said, "that
wish is to be loved as I love."--Poor Lady
Glenmore! this beautiful phantom of a young
heart is, nevertheless, in the sense in which
she framed it, a mere deceit. Love such as
her's does _not_ grow by feeding on; there is
a strength of character, a consciousness of
self-dignity, the duties of a rational being,
above all, the duties of a Christian, which
must be cherished and understood, before
any lasting fabric of happiness can be built
on love. This was never more proved than
in the restless impatience, the miserable (for
such hours to such minds are miserable)
anxiety and disappointment, which converted
minutes into hours, and hours into ages, before
Lord Glenmore returned. As she foresaw,
when he did come, though he pressed
her with almost rapturous tenderness to his
heart, and inquired with trusting fondness
at her party, hoping she had been well
amused, he was himself so exhausted and
harassed by business, that he professed himself
unable to talk. "Why did you sit up
for me, dearest?" he asked; "you will fatigue
yourself uselessly; and I must really insist
in future that you do not do so. At least,
if you had been _amusing yourself_, I should,
not be so sorry; but as it is, really Georgina,
love, you must be better behaved in future--but
why did you not go to the supper?"
"I came home to see you," she answered
in a tremulous voice. Lord Glenmore chided
her lovingly, and assured her that he had
not less anxiously desired to return to her;
but he said, smiling,
"You know you have the advantage over
our sex, for _your business_ is love--but our
_business_ is a matter apart from that gentler
care. I long to tell you, my sweet Georgina,
all that has interested me this day, and I
think you will share in my satisfaction; but
I am really unequal to enter into the details
at present: to-morrow, love, you shall know
all." Lady Glenmore only sighed; but with
the sweet docility of her nature, never questioned
his will, and his being with her constituted
in fact all she cared to know. The
truth was, that certain changes in the ministry
had long been talked of, and on that
morning overtures had been made to Lord
Glenmore to take on himself an important
office. The whole of the morning had been
occupied in settling preliminaries, and ascertaining
the sentiments of these public men
with whom he was to act: for Lord Glenmore
was a conscientious man, and would
not mount a ladder, which he intended
afterwards to cast down. It was not place
he sought, but power, for purposes alike
good and great. He felt within himself a
capacity for the honours and distinctions
he aspired to, and knew on principle the
responsibility which attends success in such
measures.
One of the first persons, whom he considered
to be a man of inflexible integrity,
and whom he wished for as a colleague
in office, was Lord Albert D'Esterre;
and since the situation which he
had himself received threw several appointments
into his own hands, Lord Glenmore
lost no time in writing him the following
note:
/#
"MY DEAR D'ESTERRE:--I think that I
shall not be making a proposal unacceptable
to your wishes, or in discrepancy with your
future plans, when I announce to you that
I have accepted the office of ----. The
official appointments immediately connected
with it of course become mine, and it would
afford me the greatest satisfaction in my
arduous undertaking, to have one possessed
of your talents to aid me in the performance
of its duties. Would you accept the
office of under Secretary of State in my
department? I need not express my ardent
hope that you will consent. You know that
our views of public matters coincide thoroughly--let
me therefore hear from or see
you as soon as possible.
/*[5]
"Your's ever most truly,
"GLENMORE."
*/
#/
After despatching this note, Lord Glenmore
sought his wife, and entered into
an account of what passed the previous
day; he spoke of the increased expediency
that would ensue of her living very much
in society, whether he could himself be
present with her or not; and added, that she
must not allow any fears or mistrust, either
of herself or him, to lessen the pleasure
which it was natural, at her age and with her
charm of person, she should derive from the
homage around her.
"It is not mistrust, dearest Glenmore,
that makes me feel joyless in your absence,
for what can I fear?--it is true that I am
uninterested in every thing, when you are
not by to share my pleasure; but indeed
you quite mistake me, love, if you suppose
that I am not all confidence in you. And as to
myself, what is there that can be for a moment
dangerous to my peace, when all my
interest, all my wishes, are centred in your
love?"
"My own best Georgina," he replied,
pressing her to his breast, "be ever thus, and
what can I wish for more. But, love, mark
me--you are now no longer the girl, whose
duties were centred in passive obedience to
her relatives, and whose recreations were the
innocent, but trifling pursuits of girlhood;
you are the wife of a man who is become a
servant of the public--whose high cares must
necessarily debar him frequently from the
enjoyment of those domestic pleasures which
a less busy or responsible life might allow.
It is now become your duty, love, to feel your
own consequence in his--to play _your_ part in
the scale by which his actions must be measured,
and to be aware that many will court
you from an idea of your being wife to a
minister, who would not for your own sake
alone, perhaps, have thought of you; while
others who previously courted you for the
charm of your presence and the beauty of
your outward shew, will now doubly affect your
society, and endeavour, it may be, to use your
influence to undue purposes. All are not pure
and single-hearted like you, my dearest, and
these cautions, believe me, are not given
as to one whose worth I doubt, but, on the
contrary, to one whose very ingenuousness
and worth may prove a snare to her. In all
that concerns mere knowledge of the world
I recommend you to look to Lady Tenderden
and Lady Tilney; they have passed creditably
through the busy throng, and are certainly
in all respects fashionable, and bear
a high consideration in the estimation of
the London world. You cannot do better,
then, than to shape your course by their's
in respect to what the French call _conduite_;
and to the dictates of the heart, and moral duties,
I refer you to your own and your excellent
mother's."
Lady Glenmore scarcely knew why, but
her heart swelled almost to bursting while
her husband spoke thus to her; and it was
with difficulty that she restrained the tears
which seemed at every moment ready to
overflow. The truth was she dwelt upon
his first words, his declaration that his newly
acquired honour would debar him from the
pleasures of home society; and she looked up
timidly as with tender accents she asked,
"whether she was doomed now to be always
absent from him."
"I trust not, dearest; at all events, you
know my best and fondest interests are centred
in you, and you would, I am sure, consider
your husband's advantage and glory to
be of value to you, even though these were
obtained by the sacrifice of his company."
She said "yes," but _felt_ decidedly, that had
she spoken the truth, the "yes" would have
been "no."
Lord Glenmore received several notes,
and with a preoccupied air which prevented
his observing the melancholy depicted
on his wife's countenance, he snatched a
hasty embrace, and was hurrying away,
when looking back he said, "Remember
love, not a word of this to any one, even
to your mother. A few days will release
the restraint I put upon your tongue," he
added, smiling; "but in you I expect to
find the _wonder_, that a woman can keep
a secret;--in all things, I believe in, and
trust you. Adieu, love, adieu." And he was
gone.
That which would have pleased a vain
woman, and gratified an ambitious one, fell
only like lead on the young Georgina's
heart.
"So," she said, sinking down in a chair, "I
am a minister's wife. And am I the happier?
Far, far from it; I am seldom now to see my
husband, and when I do, the concerns of the
public are to form our consideration and
discourse; whereas, hitherto, in the short
sunshine of our marriage, ourselves, our
mutual hopes, our own dear home, have
constituted all our care; and I fondly
trusted, perhaps foolishly hoped, would have
continued to do so. What a desolating
change! But he says I must prepare
for it; and since it is his will that thus
it should be, I will endeavour to hide the
mournful feelings of my heart. My dear
mamma shall not see that I have wept either,
for she will, perhaps, ascribe my tears to my
husband's temper, and that would be worse
still." So saying, she roused herself from the
despondency into which she had fallen, bathed
her face, called up smiles which were _not
genuine_ for the first time in her life; and,
having re-arranged her dress, she said to
herself as she cast a glance at her mirror,
"Am I not now metamorphosed into the
wife of a minister?" Just as she was preparing
to ring her bell for her carriage,
Lady Tenderden arrived.
"How well you are looking, _la belle aux
yeux bleus_," said Lady Tenderden, kissing
her: "there certainly never was any body
who had the azure of the skies so exactly reflected
in her eyes." This might be true;
but it certainly was not true that she was
looking well. To a vague answer given by
Lady Glenmore she made no allusion; but
looking at her very fixedly, so fixedly that
it made her colour deeply, Lady Tenderden
said, "Yet methinks something more than
usual has occurred--is the report true?"
"What report?"
"Nay, now, do not make the _discreet_, for
by to-morrow it will be in the newspapers.
Come, tell me, your friend, am I not to wish
you joy?"
"Of what, I may ask you in return,
Lady Tenderden, for I can sincerely answer,
that no increased cause of joy has befallen
me, that I know of." This was said so
very naturally, that her interrogator was
posed. Judging by herself, Lady Tenderden
conceived it impossible that the report
of Lord Glenmore's having accepted a high
office in government, which would have
been the envy of so many, should be true;
or else she thought the little lady must be
more silly than she ever believed her to
be. She went on, nevertheless, to sound
Lady Glenmore in various ways, expecting
to make out something relative to the subject;
but Lady Glenmore's calm indifference
totally foiled her, as she herself afterwards
confessed; and she set it down in her own
mind that for the present she could not
be of any particular service to her, or derive
any more reflected lustre from her, as being
the friend of a woman whose husband was
in power.
How the simplicity of a genuine character
confounds the pertinacity of a keen worldly
mind! Lady Tenderden was completely at
fault: when another visitor, who came much
on the same errand, afforded an additional
proof of the truth of this observation. Lady
Tilney came up to Lady Glenmore, and after
the first salutation, entered with all her
energy and eloquence upon politics; inveighing
against government measures, and
hoping that now a man of more liberal
principles had come in, some change of
_measures_ at least would be adopted. Lady
Glenmore sat abstracted, and began arranging
her embroidery frame; seeing that there
was no chance of Lady Tilney's speech coming
to a conclusion:
"Well, my dear, and now," the latter said,
"you will really have a part to play: how I envy
you! What interest--what endless business
will devolve on you! Were I you, I would
propose to Lord Glenmore to write all his
private letters for him; by this means you
know you would be _au fait_ of all the state
secrets, and could, in a great measure,
guide things your own way. You write rapidly,
I believe; and your hand is not bad;
it wants a little more character perhaps: but
you know there is the man who advertises to
teach any hand-writing. I do assure you he
is excellent--I tried him myself, and a very
few lessons from him would teach you to give
your writing the firm diplomatic air--and
you would quickly learn that significant
style which means nothing; and by which,
should any thing occur to make you change
your mind (Lord Glenmore's, I mean), you
could twist the phrase into another meaning,
suitable to the occasion. I am sure I am
always for decision and truth; but in certain
cases prudence and caution are necessary;
and therefore these resources are requisite to
be observed in diplomatic writing. If you look
back, you will always see it has been so in
all ministers' letters."
Lady Glenmore, who had sat silent hitherto,
now conceived herself obliged to
speak, and replied, "that she knew nothing
of diplomacy, except the name; that every
thing of the kind always made her yawn, and
she hoped she should never have to copy any
letters of business for any body." Lady Tilney
in her turn stared, and observing that
Lady Glenmore was very young, she said:
"Well, but at all events you will be delighted
to see your name perpetually with
all the people in power; and to hear them
say, that is the minister's beautiful wife! and
the honours of your husband, at least to any
one so domestically inclined, must be a great
delight."
"I do not want Lord Glenmore to have
any more honours than he has, for my own
sake; but whatever pleases him will certainly
please me."
"Oh, oh! so then you do confess it? and
he _is_ minister for ----"
"I am happy to hear it, if it really is to
confer all the honour you seem to think upon
him. But I wish you would tell me what _you_
mean, Lady Tilney, for I do not quite understand
you." There was a sort of real _not
caring_ about Lady Glenmore, which deceived
Lady Tilney, as it had done Lady Tenderden.
It was a thing so totally out of Lady Tilney's
calculation that any one should not be
enchanted at such a situation, that she was
persuaded either that the fact was not so, or
that Lady Glenmore did not know that it was
the case.
Just as this inquisition had ceased, a servant
entered with a few lines written in pencil
on a card, which he gave to Lady Tenderden:
they were from Mr. Leslie Winyard, to say,
that having seen her carriage at the door,
and having something very particular to
communicate to her, he requested ten minutes'
conversation, if he might be allowed
to come up. Lady Tenderden remembered
Lady Glenmore's former scruples about receiving
him, but determined to overcome
them.
"_Chère ladi_," she said, "you must positively,
notwithstanding the fear of Lord
Glenmore, allow me to see Mr. Leslie Winyard;
I will take all the _imminent_ risk of the
danger upon myself; and besides, you know,
visiting _me_ is not visiting _you_." Lady Glenmore
looked exceedingly distressed, and
said, "If you want to speak to Mr. Leslie
Winyard, why can you not speak to him in
your carriage?"
"Oh! that is so uncomfortable. Besides,
Lady Tilney, I appeal to you, was there ever
any thing so strange as Lady Glenmore's
refusing to let Mr. Leslie Winyard come up
stairs to see me, merely because _le tiran de
mari_ does not approve of morning visits
from gentlemen?"
"Pho, pho," said Lady Tilney, "he was
only joking, and that dear little good Georgina
thought he was serious." Then turning
to the servant who was waiting for orders,
"Shew Mr. Leslie Winyard up stairs directly,"
commanding, as she always did, or
tried to do, in every place and every person.
In a few minutes Mr. Leslie Winyard made
his appearance; and having paid his compliments
to Lady Glenmore and Lady Tilney
for some little time, he then stepped aside
with Lady Tenderden, and after conversing
together, apparently engaged on a most interesting
subject, they returned to the other
ladies, and he entered into general conversation
with his usual light and amusing
anecdote. At length, however, Lady Tilney
arose, saying to Mr. Winyard, "well, notwithstanding
your _agrémens_, I must go, for
I have a hundred things to do." Lady Tenderden
echoed this declaration, and they both
went away, leaving Mr. Leslie Winyard, who
seemed determined to sit them out _en tête-à-tête_
with Lady Glenmore.
The consciousness that any thing has been
said on any subject, always creates in an unartificial
mind an awkwardness when the predicament
that has led to the discussion really
occurs;--and Lady Glenmore experienced this
painfully. Every instant the sensation became
stronger, and, of course, was not lost to
the observation of her companion, though he
affected not to perceive it; and by dint of
feigning ignorance, and talking on indifferent
subjects, he arrived at bringing her into
the calm and comfortable frame of mind
he had in view, one in which she would
feel _le diable n'est pas si noir_; and this
he effected with his usual address, till he
evidently saw that she was rather diverted
than otherwise by his conversation.
He then led the discourse to music, and
entreated her once more to sing the _Sempre
più t'amo_ of Caraffa. She readily agreed, and
their voices were in beautiful and thrilling
unison when the door opened, and in came
Lord Glenmore. His wife suddenly stopped,
and rising from the instrument, looked abashed.
Lord Glenmore, with the manners of a man
of the world, addressed Mr. Leslie Winyard,
regretted that he had interrupted the music,
declared that he had some letters to write,
and prayed him to finish the duet. But Lady
Glenmore tried in vain to recommence singing--her
voice faltered, her hand trembled,
as she touched the keys--her eyes wandered to
her husband with an expression of inquiry
and uneasiness; and Mr. Leslie, too much the
man of the world, and too much skilled in
his _métier_ to push matters at an unfavourable
moment, declared that he was exceedingly
sorry, but found himself under the
necessity of going away, having an appointment
on business which he could not put
off. Apologizing, therefore, to Lord Glenmore,
to whom he always took care to pay
particular deference, for not being able to
remain, he hurried out.
Lady Glenmore hastened with considerable
trepidation of manner to explain to her
husband how it had chanced that he found
her singing with Mr. Leslie Winyard; but
Lord Glenmore seemed more deeply engaged
in thinking of the letter he was perusing
than of what she was saying, and only looked
up smilingly in her face, and said, "My dear
love, why are you so agitated about such a
trifle?"--"Is it a trifle?" she said: "well,
then, I need not care, and am quite happy
again." She kissed his forehead; and further
discourse was prevented by a servant's entering,
to inform Lord Glenmore that Lord
D'Esterre requested to see him if he was
disengaged. Lord Glenmore immediately
desired that he might be shewn into his private
apartment; and at the same time gave
orders that no one else might be admitted
except the persons whose names were on the
list; then pressing his wife's hand tenderly,
but evidently much preoccupied in mind, he
left the room.
"Is it possible," thought Lady Glenmore,
looking after him--"can this be _my_ husband,
who so lately appeared to have no thought
save what we mutually shared? and now we
seem suddenly cast asunder: different interests,
different hours, different societies, all
seems to place us, as if by magic, apart, and
to divide us from each other. He too, who
dwelt so particularly on my not receiving
morning visits from young men, now seems
to think it is become a matter of indifference,
or rather not to think about it at all. Has
power then changed him so quickly? What
a horrible thing power is!--how it transforms
every thing into its own heartless self!
Surely, surely, it is the most miserable thing
in the world to be a minister's wife!" To
dissipate the melancholy she felt, she ordered
her carriage, and proceeded to visit
her mother, who she found was ill, having
caught cold in coming out of the Opera.
"Why did you not inform me of your
indisposition before, dearest mamma?--I
would have been here early?"
"I know, love, that you would not have
been remiss in any kindness; but when a
woman is married, her first duty is to her
husband; and I fancy," she added, smiling,
and implying by her manner that she knew
more than she would exactly say; "I fancy
Lord Glenmore will occupy more of your
time than ever, dear Georgina, if what is
reported be true."
"I am sure he will never prevent my
coming to you, under any circumstances; but
really he has so much business, that I see
less and less of him every day."
"Indeed!" said Lady Melcomb, looking
rather blank. Fortunately for both parties,
Lord Melcomb came in from his morning
walk, with a countenance even more bright
and cheerful than was his wont. "So, my
love," he cried, "I fear you must now be
no longer my little Georgy, if the current
news be true, I must look at you in a new
light--eh?" and he examined her countenance.
"I am very sorry to hear that, dearest
papa; I was so happy in the old one, that
nothing can make me wish to change in
your eyes."
"Come come, love, tell us now, has Lord
Glenmore accepted the appointment of ----
or not?"
"Whenever he tells me to say that he
has done so, I shall certainly, my dearest
papa and mamma, make you the first to be
acquainted with the event."
"Well, Georgina, I see how it is: you
need not say more, for you are already quite
diplomatic in your mode of answering. But
you are right, my child: whatever confidence
your husband reposes in you, you ought to
regard it as sacred;" and Lord Melcomb
changed the subject like a good and a sensible
man, who wishes really that his child
should prove a good and faithful wife. "You
have given the best earnest any girl can
give," he said, "my sweet Georgina, of being
an invaluable treasure to your husband, by
having first been such to your parents; and
the obedience you paid us should now be
implicitly transferred to Lord Glenmore. The
woman who has not learnt obedience, is likely
to be very unhappy: for it is surely one of
the first duties in every sphere of a woman's
life. You know the lines, that I have
so often repeated to you, and I am sure you
practise them, my own Georgina, as forming
the great golden rule to be observed by
a married woman: one who
/P
"'Never answers till her husband cools;
And if she rules him, never shows she rules.'
P/
"But when I say obedience, I do not mean
that slavish obedience, which in matters of
conscience must remain a question for conscience
to decide; I mean that system of gentle
acquiescence in all the minor motives of
life, which can alone render the domestic
circle a circle of harmony."
Lady Glenmore assured her father she had
not forgotten, and never should forget his excellent
lessons; and that every thing which he
had recommended her to do, she invariably
called to mind every night and morning. Lord
Melcomb had, during a very busy life, acquitted
himself under all circumstances with
credit both abroad and at home, and if he had
leant to the despotic side of governing in his
own house, he had done it with so much gentleness
as well as firmness, that no one felt
inclined to consider the yoke heavy. His
daughter had never even felt it could be so,
for she was by nature and inclination a docile
gentle being, leaning upon those she loved with
implicit confidence for guidance and support.
It was at this particular moment more than
usually sweet to her to be in the society of her
parents, and she promised that if Lord Glenmore
were engaged in the evening, she would
bring her work, and instead of passing the _then_
dull hours at home, find a sweet solace with
them; they were a happy family, united in
the bond of the strictest union, and even at
a temporary parting felt pain, in proportion as
being together gave them pleasure; but it
was time for Lady Glenmore, she said, to go
home, and they separated.
The interview between Lord Glenmore and
Lord D'Esterre that morning had passed to
their mutual satisfaction; their general opinion
of public affairs, and their views of domestic
happiness were too similar for them not to
draw together; and yet there were points of
difference in their character, which tended to
keep alive an awakening interest, and render
the one more necessary to the other; but in
regard to the great question then agitating the
public mind, Lady Tilney was quite mistaken
in her ideas of his principles, which were at
variance in many respects with what she
called _liberalism_.
The fact was, the minister of the day, having
discovered that those whom he had allowed to
continue in office, on agreed and well-defined
principles as to the line they were to pursue
in their political conduct, were acting out of
the pale of their engagements, and forfeiting
the pledges given to himself; consequently,
with that decision of character, and straightforwardness
of conduct, which formed the leading
feature of his life, he availed himself of the
first favourable opportunity of breaking off a
connexion with men, whose moral complexions
were so very unlike his own. Well
knowing how vast were his resources, he
sought among the rising nobility of England
(who, take them altogether, form perhaps, a
body more talented, and more patriotic than
any other nation in the world) for that support
and coadjutancy which the emergency of
the times demanded, in order to maintain
the constitutional rights of the nation. Lord
Glenmore was one of these, and amongst the
parties whom he, in his turn, named as being
those he wished should co-operate with him
in his individual department, Lord D'Esterre
stood pre-eminent. This happy nomination
met at once with the entire approbation of
the minister, whose discernment was as penetrating,
as it was prompt and decisive.
Lord Albert, it may be, in his acceptance of
office, was not influenced alone by political
views. He felt that, in the uncertain and agitated
state of his mind, some great and commanding
power for exertion was necessary to
him; some influential weight of sufficient magnitude
to poise the fluctuations of a mind,
whose energies he was conscious were wasting
themselves in a diseased state of excitement.
He thought that by engaging in a political
career, where the duties imposed were of an
imperious and absorbing nature, he should
best find that refuge against himself which he
deemed it wise to seek. Men in such cases
have most indubitably great advantages over
women; many a noble career lies open to them.
When they are oppressed by any woe of a private
nature, they may in the exercise of their
powers find arms against a sea of troubles;
but women have only one great lesson to
learn, greater still perhaps if duly entertained--to
suffer resignedly.
Lord Glenmore and Lord Albert prolonged
their discussion to a late hour--so late that
Lord Glenmore pressed him to remain and
dine. "We have no company to-day," he said,
"and Lady Glenmore will excuse your toilette."
The invitation was too acceptable to be
refused, and they passed into the drawing-room,
where they found Lady Glenmore all
smiles and beauty; for the idea of enjoying her
husband's company had again restored her to
her wonted placid happiness.
The conversation took that happy course
which it ever does when similarity of tastes
directs the subjects; and as the minds of these
young men were not only of a superior cast,
but their manners too formed on that refined
model which, when it is accompanied by
intellectual power, gives grace to force, their
social intercourse was truly such, as one likes
to think is the sample of a high-born, high-bred
British nobleman.
Lady Glenmore listened with no insipid
mawkish indifference, even to matters beyond
her ken, and the remark she ventured now
and then to slide in was one that bespoke a
diffident, but not deficient understanding. A
delighted glance of approbation occasionally
escaped from Lord Glenmore, in homage to
his wife, and as Lord Albert beheld this married
happiness, he could not help sighing, as
he thought "such might have been mine;" and
he almost unconsciously drew a parallel between
Lady Glenmore and Adeline, in which
he did not deceive himself in giving the decided
palm to the latter.
When he was preparing to depart, he found
it was so late that he drove home; but when
there, the same incapacity to settle himself
to any occupation which he had before experienced,
returned, and he fancied that he
might yet be in time for an hour of the ballet.
So he ordered his carriage, made a brief toilette,
and drove to the Opera-house. "It is too
late," he thought, "to go to South Audley
Street; I shall disturb Lady Dunmelraise;"
but yet the idea that he had not called upon
her that day haunted him painfully.
Arrived at the Opera, he walked in, and
hearing, as he passed the pit-door, a favourite
air sung by Pasta, he made his way through
the crowd, obtained a tolerable place, and was
listening intently to the music, when he was accosted
by Mr. George Foley. The recollection
of what he had suffered the previous evening
came freshly to his feelings, like a dark dense
cloud, obscuring every other idea. Mr. Foley,
either not seeing, or not choosing to see,
the coldness of his reception, pertinaciously
kept up a conversation with him on various
subjects, precisely in that quiet and self-satisfied
manner, which is so insufferable to a person
under feelings of irritation. Nor did Mr.
Foley cease talking till he suddenly turned
round, and saw some one in the boxes, to
whom he nodded with much apparent familiarity
of interest. Lord Albert mechanically
turned his head also, and beheld Lady Hamlet
Vernon--who kissed her hand to him; and
both of them, as if by mutual consent, proceeded
to join her. She was but just arrived, having
been at a dinner at the Leinsengens, she
said, and her face was lit up with more than ordinary
animation as she greeted them on their
entering; then noticing to Lord Albert to
take the seat next her in front of the box, she
bent towards him, so as to whisper in his
ear, "I heartily congratulate you; I have just
heard of the arrangements at the Leinsengens
where I dined, as I have already told you, and
where I heard all the finest things in the world
said of you, as I have not yet told you; but I
assure you the generality of the persons there
were, I really believe, for once sincere in what
they said. But you do not express any satisfaction
at this event yourself: why are you so
exceedingly indifferent?" and her eyes spoke a
language which was any thing but that of indifference.
"Because," he said, "I do not avow that
the news you have heard is true. We must
wait and see the event publicly announced,
before one can have any feeling about it, one
way or the other." Lady Hamlet Vernon continued
to banter him on his cautious reserve
for some time; but did not press the matter
further, as she saw his dislike to being probed
on the subject.
"Only remember," she whispered, "you
have one friend, who enters into all your joys
and sorrows, and feels every thing that betides
you with a keen perception of interest." After
some vain attempts on her part to unite Mr.
Foley in a conversation with them, which she
resumed aloud, he being perfectly aware
that Lord Albert in fact engrossed her completely,
took an early opportunity of withdrawing.
Lord Albert remained till near the close
of the ballet in earnest conversation with Lady
Hamlet Vernon, interrupted only occasionally
by chance visitors, who seeing the preoccupied
air, and observing the thoughtful expression
of Lord Albert, did not long obtrude themselves.
He would probably have remained
where he was till the entire end of the performance,
had not a sudden movement in the
box opposite, attended with bustle, and some
lady apparently fainting, caught his attention.
He looked eagerly again, and in another minute
recognized Lady Delamere, and thought in the
reclining figure that he could trace a likeness
to Lady Adeline Seymour. Hastily rising, he
rushed out of the box, without making any
apology to Lady Hamlet Vernon, or mentioning
the cause of his very abrupt departure.
When he arrived at the opposite side of the
house, he found his fears and conjectures true;
and his heart smote him in an instant, as he
figured to himself what Lady Adeline's feelings
must have been, in seeing him occupied so long
a time, and his attention so intensely fixed
upon another, as he was conscious his had been
on Lady Hamlet Vernon. Although Lady Adeline
might not know who she was, yet the circumstance
of his not having been near her all
day, the reason of which she could not know,
together with the fact which she saw, namely,
that he preferred the society of another to her's,
were all circumstances that struck him with
self-condemnation, and his look, and manner,
implied the full expression of tender penitence.
But Lady Adeline was still insensible;
she could not see, or observe, _what_ his feelings
then were at beholding her thus; but with
Lady Delamere the case was different; he
thought he read in her cold reception of his
offered services, and the penetrating glance
which she cast upon him, her complete
knowledge of all that had passed in his mind
relative to Lady Hamlet Vernon, and he shrunk
confused from her gaze.
This, however, was neither a time nor place
adapted for explanations; and, indeed, to whom
was he to make them? To no one did he feel
responsible but to Adeline; to no one he felt
would they be satisfactory, save to Adeline. He
knew her mind was truth itself, and so utterly
incapable of deception, that she could not believe
that any one would deceive her; he determined
therefore to unbosom himself to her, and be forgiven.
With these feelings, which were rapid
and almost simultaneous in their effect, though
language is slow in expressing them, he
caught the sinking Adeline in his arms, and
lifted her inanimate form into the corridor,
where a seat being hastily taken from the box,
he supported her, kneeling by her side. At
this moment Mr. Foley appeared, breathless
with haste, bearing some water and a smelling-bottle,
which he proceeded to apply, whilst
Lady Delamere aided him in his efforts to restore
Adeline, and was assisted by several
of their acquaintance who were passing by.
Lord Albert could only partially be of use,
as one arm supported her; but with the other
he tenderly pressed her hand as he bathed it
in the water. Animation, after a few minutes,
returned; she opened her eyes, and gazed vacantly;
but in another moment her senses were
fully restored; and on recognizing Lord Albert,
she quickly closed her eyes again, and a sort
of convulsive throb seemed about to make her
relapse; but struggling to disengage her hand,
which he let drop with an expression of sorrow
and dismay, Lady Adeline made an effort
to recover herself; and half rising, she turned
to Lady Delamere, and said inarticulately,
"I should like, dear aunt, to be taken home."
"Stop, for heaven's sake," cried Lord Albert
D'Esterre, stepping forward, as if to catch her
tottering frame; "wait till you are more recovered."
"No," she said; but speaking still as if to
Lady Delamere, "I shall be better when I
am at home; dear aunt, let me go." Lady
Delamere, judging of Adeline's feelings by
her own observations of the circumstances
which she thought had caused her sudden
indisposition, said coolly, addressing Lord
Albert, "Thank you, Lord Albert, but Adeline
is the best judge of her own feelings."
Then turning to Mr. Foley, she asked him
if he had seen her servants. He answered
in the affirmative; and added, "the carriage
will be up by this time certainly."
"Then," rejoined Lady Delamere, "have
the goodness, Mr. Foley, to give your arm to
my niece;" and she continued, with marked
emphasis, "Adeline dear, I will support you
on the other side." It was impossible for
Lord Albert to mistake what this arrangement
implied; his whole frame was convulsed,
though he betrayed no gesture of suffering,
but stood rooted to the spot, as his eyes gazed
on her, walking away feebly between her two
supporters, without thinking of following her;
and then, by a sudden impulse, he rushed
after her, and arrived at the door just in time
to see Mr. Foley get into the carriage, after
having placed the ladies in safety, and to hear
the word "home" pronounced by the footman
as they drove from the door of the Opera-house.
He mechanically turned round, and with an
agitation of mind that allowed not of reflection,
returned to Lady Hamlet Vernon's box. He
sat down without speaking; and, gazing in
vacancy, remained for some time like one in a
deep reverie. Fortunately there was no one in
the box but themselves; and though Lady Hamlet
Vernon was quite aware of his situation, and
partly guessed the cause, she was too deeply
interested herself in the issue of the event to
press indiscreetly into his feelings at that moment,
but simply asked him "if he were not
well?" "Oh, quite well," he replied; "only
rather astonished.--It was,"--he stopped--seemed
to muse again, and then he added to
himself, "they went away together." Lady
Hamlet Vernon's eyes filled with tears--(tears
will come sometimes to some people when they
are called)--she said, in a low voice, "I must
always grieve for what gives you pain; but
I have thought"--she paused.--Lord Albert
fixed his eyes on her for an instant, as if he
would inquire, "what have you thought?" but
the latter, without appearing to deny that she
_had_ thought, at the same time added, in a
hurried tone,
"Yet, my dear Lord Albert, let not my
thoughts weigh with you; let not a momentary
appearance alone decide on any measure
which may influence your whole life; look
dispassionately on appearances; sound them,
sift them thoroughly, ere you allow yourself
to act upon them." There was a gentle reason
in these words, an expression of heart-felt
interest in the speaker, which at the
present instant was doubly efficacious in turning
the current of his thoughts and feelings in
favour of her who uttered them; and he gave
way to a warmth of expression in his reply which
was joy to her heart. Still she repressed the
triumph she felt at this impassioned answer;
and it was only when he handed her to her
carriage, that the pressure of her hand spoke
a tenderer language, which vibrated through
his frame.
END OF VOL. II.
/*
LONDON:
PRINTED BY J. L. COX, GREAT QUEEN STREET.
*/
THE
COURT JOURNAL.
The whole impression of this new and popular weekly
journal being now stamped, subscribers may receive and
transmit it to their friends, POSTAGE FREE, throughout
all parts of the kingdom.
THE PROPRIETORS of the COURT JOURNAL, with due
acknowledgments for the highly gratifying reception their
work has already met with, beg leave to point out to
readers in general the advantages of their publication in
its present improved form.
The occupations, engagements, and amusements of the
higher classes of society had long required a record; they
found it in the Court Journal. The fête champêtre, the
sumptuous banquet, the concert, the soirée, the ball, the
public and private habits of royal and noble life, those
habits which give the tone to manners throughout the
empire, were depicted with a freshness and accuracy
hitherto unattempted; and, in all instances, with the
most attentive avoidance of injury to personal feelings.
It may be easily imagined that those details could not
have been supplied from ordinary sources,--thus the
connexions of the Proprietors afforded them peculiar
opportunities, and many of the articles of the Court
Journal were contributed by individuals, whose rank and
fashion gave even a pledge at once for the good taste
and the truth of their descriptions.
But something more was still required, to realize the
original idea of the publication. It was hitherto the
Journal of an elevated but exclusive class; the purpose
was to render it available to all classes, retaining its
anecdote, pleasantry, and spirit of high life, to make it
the vehicle of intelligence of every interesting kind; the
companion not only of the boudoir but of the breakfast
table and the study,--a Journal in which not merely the
woman of fashion might find the round of her engagements
for the week brought gracefully before her eye;
but the politician, the student, and the various orders of
intelligent society might find the species of information
suited to their purposes; to make the Court Journal a
WEEKLY NEWSPAPER of the most improved and
valuable nature.
For this object a Stamp was necessary, and the Proprietors
did not hesitate to subject themselves to the
serious additional expense, that they might give the public
their paper in its complete state, feeling confident that
the claims of the work to great popularity and extensive
circulation would be duly estimated by the public at large.
THE COURT JOURNAL is regularly published every
SATURDAY MORNING on a handsome sheet of 16 quarto
pages, containing 48 columns, price 10d. and may consequently
be received on Sunday in all parts of the country.
Published for HENRY COLBURN, by W. Thomas, at the
office, 19, Catherine Street, Strand. Orders are received
by all Booksellers and Newsvenders throughout the kingdom;
and those who desire to become subscribers are
particularly requested to give their orders to the Bookseller
or Newsman in their own immediate neighbourhood,
as the best mode of receiving it regularly.
N.B.--Advertisements or orders sent from the country
to the office must be accompanied by a reference for
payment in London.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:
Obvious printer errors have been corrected. Otherwise, the author's
original spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have been left intact.