What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true?
SHAKSPEARE.
“And you never were at a ball before, my dear Helen?” said Lady
Latimer, as they drove into town that day. “How you will enjoy it, and
what a sensation you will create! Why, it will make that old, rural,
dirty Mr. Stedman, dance like Pan himself to have you for a partner.”
“I hope you won’t be angry at what I am going to say. But I wish you
would excuse my going to this ball to-night. I am delighted to come
here, or go any where that procures me the pleasure of being with
you, but I can be no resource to you in a ball-room; and though your
kindness endeavours to make me forget my own insignificance, yet at a
meeting of this sort, utterly unknown as I am, I cannot help thinking I
must be _de trop_--at festivities too, to which I cannot be considered
a party.”
“If a party, not a very friendly one, I am afraid,” said Lady Latimer,
smiling. “Have a care, or I will tell Germain that I fear we have a
traitor in the camp, whose wishes were with the fallen. Nay, now you
belie my words, for your cheeks are of Germain’s colour, sure enough.
But no more excuses for to-night at least; I will fulfil Macbeth’s
threat, and make ‘the green one red.’”
“Nay, you wrong me if you think I can do otherwise than rejoice in
your success; and I hope that you won’t attribute my conduct to any
such ingratitude, when I own that so thoroughly was I convinced that I
should be in your way to-night, that I have brought no ball-dress with
me.”
“Nor have I,” said Lady Latimer, “so you will be as well off as
I am--but wait a little,” added she, observing that Helen looked
surprised at this declaration.
“Any cases come for me from London?” asked Lady Latimer, upon alighting
at her lodging.
“Yes, two, my lady,” readily replied the soubrette.
“Now for them, then. There, my dear Helen, did you ever see any thing
so beautiful? the colour quite appropriate, all trimmed with the
_véritable feu d’enfer_; not those awkward imitations of which one has
been ashamed during the election--both precisely alike you see--this
was my little surprise for you; you had no suspicion when I observed
how well my dresses fitted you, that I meant to send for this as a
little cadeau for you, that we might both appear exactly the same
to-night.”
There was so much genuine good-nature mixed up with the frivolous
importance which Lady Latimer attached to this little affair, that
Helen could not bear to disappoint her by refusing to use, on this
appropriate occasion, the beautiful dress which she had taken such
pains to procure for her.
Lady Latimer having quite made up her mind that there was but one
person who could dress both their heads in a manner at all worthy of
the occasion, Miss Mordaunt had retired first, and had returned to the
drawing-room, her toilette finished, the beautiful dress even exceeding
Lady Latimer’s expectations, and her fine hair interspersed with
corresponding bows of _feu d’enfer_. She was expecting to have long to
await alone the result of her friend’s somewhat _soigné_ labour, when a
bustle was heard in the passage below.
Lady Latimer’s servants never did more than was absolutely necessary at
home, and upon an occasion like the present, they would have thought it
quite out of character to be in the way; therefore it was the soubrette
of the house who announced that “a gemman wished to speak to Miss;” and
without waiting a reply, ushered Oakley into the room.
It would be hardly possible to imagine a more attractive object than
Helen Mordaunt then appeared--a form and features in which were happily
blended the brilliant with the delicate; a countenance marked at once
with strength of mind and innocence of heart; and all those innate
charms enhanced by the efforts of art, which in this instance had
luckily united the correct in fashion with the becoming in taste.
But if, instead, a loathsome and disgusting object had unexpectedly
crossed his path, Oakley’s countenance, upon beholding it, could not
have undergone a more sudden change in expression than when he found
her, whom he had come to console and support under affliction, more
radiant than ever, decked out, as he thought, insultingly, in his
rival’s colours. Helen’s surprise at first keeping her silent, he began
with suppressed emotion: “The person I see, is so unlike the Miss
Mordaunt I expected to find, that I know not how I can sufficiently
apologize for my intrusion.”
“I will not deny that I am indeed much astonished to see you here, and
thus--” said she, looking at his splashed and disordered appearance;
“but from all I have known of Mr. Oakley, I have no doubt that he has
some good reason to give for what indeed----”
“All you have known of Mr. Oakley--perhaps you know as little in truth
of what Mr. Oakley really is, as he now finds to his cost he knew of
Miss Mordaunt. We may have been equally deceived.”
“This is very strange,” said Helen, alarmed. “I entreat you to
recollect yourself, Mr. Oakley. Lady Latimer will be down presently,
and if you have any thing to say, I beg it may be in her presence.”
“Yes, Lady Latimer--she it is that has wrought this change in you--a
cold, unfeeling coquette, who, simply to gratify her vanity would
compromise her own character. Why should she respect that of her
friend?--she it is that, at a time when you ought to be far otherwise
attired, has for her own purposes decked you out in these trappings of
her fickle admirer, the frivolous Germain.”
“Whatever Mr. Germain’s character may be, it is not for me to defend
it; but I must say, that I feel confident his conduct would never have
been such as in the last few minutes I have blushed to witness. Oh, for
shame, Mr. Oakley!” added she, gathering courage as she proceeded, “if
no generous regard for my unprotected situation prevents your forcing
upon my unwilling ear erroneous constructions upon my conduct, why
should you imagine that I can hear without resentment an unprovoked
libel upon the character of my best friend and benefactress, and
that too from one who has no claim upon me beyond that of a common
acquaintance, and whom gratitude to my protectress, will be sufficient
to make me henceforth treat as a stranger.”
Helen’s feelings had been thoroughly roused by an overpowering sense of
injustice; and whilst her eye flashed indignantly upon Oakley with an
expression so different from its habitual mildness, the recollection
of his uncle’s portrait came involuntarily across him. He felt for a
moment subdued by the tone she took; but there was much of what she
said peculiarly galling to his impetuous disposition in its present
fevered state. The unfavourable comparison drawn between himself and
Germain, excited a feeling, which combined with the previous ranklings
of envy, the additional pang of jealousy. The rejection of him as a
stranger, with which she concluded, conspired to overthrow the little
command he still had upon himself, and he replied:--
“What other claims upon your favour I may have foolishly imagined I
had established, it is useless now to inquire, but you may live to
feel that the gratitude you profess towards Lady Latimer is as nothing
compared to that which you ought to have acknowledged towards me.”
“Gratitude to you!--for what? Can you possibly mean to allude to
attentions, which it would be as unworthy in you to urge, as degrading
to me to admit, as establishing such a claim?--Gratitude to you! I owe
you none.”
“What!” said Oakley wildly, “--none that I readily cancelled my uncle’s
tacit rejection of his child--none that I gave to the offspring of
shame an honourable position in the world by continuing to your
surviving parent the pension of her guilt?”
“Good God, he’s mad!” exclaimed Helen, a sudden conviction of that
appalling nature coming upon her, from the vehemence of his manner, and
the apparent incoherence of what he uttered. She darted by him to the
door, and succeeded in making her escape up stairs. Her first idea
was to seek protection in Lady Latimer’s apartment, but she hesitated
even at the door, from an unwillingness herself to explain and detail,
particularly at the present moment, all that had just passed; she
therefore retired to her own room, where she remained some minutes in a
deplorable state of agitation. She then heard Oakley, who had made no
attempt to follow her, rapidly descending the stairs, and immediately
after, the housemaid brought her a letter in her mother’s hand directed
to Oakley, enclosed in an envelope, in which was scrawled in pencil
these few lines:--
“I can in no way make reparation for what I have done, nor expect you
to forgive me, when I can never forgive myself. The enclosed will
explain that I came with other intentions than wantonly to insult
you, though it will not, and cannot, excuse the brutal perversion of
my errand. May heaven support you under those afflictions, which it
is my curse to have aggravated!”
E. O.
The comparative sanity of this note, and the tone of obligation with
which she found her mother addressing him, were far from consolatory
to Helen; for they opened to her the dreadful suspicion that there was
some foundation for the mysterious connexion with Oakley at which he
had hinted. This harrowing thought did not however at the moment take
much hold upon her mind, as every other idea was superseded for the
time by the present calamity which her mother’s letter imparted, that
she was ill, very ill, and desired her immediate return.
It was with the determination just formed, that her departure should
not be delayed another moment, that she was found by Lady Latimer,
whose toilet was at length finished, and who entered her room engrossed
with the expectation of that admiration she knew she so well deserved.
Helen immediately communicated to her the intelligence she had received
of her mother’s illness, though she did not add the means by which she
had learnt it.
Lady Latimer was much disappointed, and at first attempted to remove
the impression of its serious nature, by saying--
“Oh! I dare say it is of no consequence; your fears have exaggerated
things; to-morrow we shall be returning, and then, certainly, if you
like, you can go home.”
But upon raising her candle to Helen’s face, the desolating effects of
agitation she there observed, which had been in no small degree caused
by the scene she had undergone, but which Lady Latimer attributed
entirely to the news she had received, showed that she was not to be
trifled with. She therefore at once offered one of her own carriages
and servants to be immediately ordered to convey Miss Mordaunt upon
her way homewards, if she wished to set off without delay. This having
been thankfully accepted, Lady Latimer left the room, saying that she
would herself stay at home till every thing was ready, in order that
she might see that all possible expedition was used.
Helen immediately commenced, with no small degree of impatience,
throwing off the unlucky ball-dress, which had certainly excited any
thing but admiration in the only person by whom it had been seen; and
soon were scattered neglectfully about the room, flowers, ribbons,
and similar paraphernalia, which would have made the fortune of any
milliner, and the happiness of any young lady in the county. Under
Lady Latimer’s own immediate direction, the preparations for the
journey were completed in an incredibly short time, and after a most
affectionate farewell, the two friends separated, Helen to commence
her sad and solitary return homewards, Lady Latimer to gladden the
expectant eyes of the brilliant ball-room.
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
LONDON:
IBOTSON AND PALMER, SAVOY STREET, STRAND.
Transcriber note
Spelling and punctuation errors have been corrected.
Italics have been enclosed by underscores.
Small caps have been capitalised.