Ridicule is a weak weapon, when levelled at a strong mind.
Trusting that this introduction to her father's study might be to Lucy
the beginning of a life of usefulness and activity, Mabel took her work
to the common sitting-room, which, during Lucy's illness, she had rarely
entered. But now she began to feel conscious, that solitude, and
retirement were becoming too dear to her, and she resolved, rather to
court, than avoid the society which the house afforded, however
uncongenial it might be.
She found the sisters at work, or rather, at something which might
better be termed an excuse for work. Caroline was leaning over her
embroidery frame, engaged in talking with Selina, who was twisting silk
over a small lyre, intended for the formation of a watch guard, which
was to be presented, not to any person in particular, but as a
gratifying remembrance to any old gentleman, at whose house she might
next have the pleasure of staying. Maria was hemming a silk
pocket-handkerchief, covered with innumerable foxes-heads; intended,
perhaps, for some gay hunting friend.
They all looked up upon her entrance, as if to say, they scarcely cared
for this addition to their party, and were not very pleased to see, that
she had relieved herself from the restraints of her sick-room
attendance. If this caused, for an instant, a painful sensation, she
instantly checked the thought, with that ready self-controul, which she
had taught herself to exercise, ever since she had been old enough to
observe the unhappiness caused to her mother, by too great an indulgence
of her original sensitiveness of disposition, which, from its extreme
delicacy, could scarcely venture into the every day world without
carrying back to retirement food for reflection and regret. She was,
therefore, prepared to meet the world in all its roughness, and had
saved herself from a great deal of trouble and annoyance, by never
taking offence till it was too plain to be mistaken; and, from the
effects of this early curb upon her temper, she had almost begun to
believe the world as kind as her own warm-hearted zeal would have made
it.
Taking her seat by Maria, who was a little apart from her sisters, she
offered her assistance in her work. Even Maria had learnt to abate
something, in her presence, of her natural sharpness--and she received
the offer with something like politeness.
"There," she said, carelessly selecting a pocket-handkerchief from the
bundle which lay at her feet; "if you like to take the trouble, you will
save mine, for I am heartily tired of them."
Mabel's nimble fingers were soon engaged, while Maria gave her a
ludicrous account of the fatigue she had been enduring.
"I am no great worker," she said; "and this long side has taken me more
than an hour, moaning bitterly all the time; but, then, I reflect, that
as I am no beauty, I must do penance, since being agreeable is in
fashion just now; and if I did not keep Mamma on tenter-hooks, expecting
an offer now and then, a sorry life I should lead. So, with these
pleasing thoughts, I turn again to the everlasting hem, where the silk
will unravel for ever, provoking the deploring eyes of a hundred foxes,
which I think must be the ghosts of all the men who are mourning, not
that I jilted them poor fools, but _tout au contraire_. Well-a-day, I
think I was made for hunting foxes rather than fox hunters. There, I
shall rest while you are working for me."
So saying, she took up a novel which lay open on the table, and which
had occupied her attention at intervals--placed her feet upon a chair,
and soon became quite absorbed.
Mabel excelled in needle work, for in her own home her fingers had never
been idle, when her mind had not been seriously occupied. Many a light,
happy hour had she passed in superintending the domestic requirements of
their cottage, or in exercising her ingenuity, to supply the want of new
fashions, on a cap for her mother, or a dress for herself or Amy, and
now, with the rapidity of habit, she ran over the ground which Maria had
found so heavy, in comparison with the more tempting pages of the light
book by her side.
Her companions, however, were not very agreeable, for Caroline and
Selina were carrying on a whispered conversation, and occasionally a
word reached her, only sufficiently distinct to make her guess, that she
was the subject of observation; together with half uttered allusions to
landing-place conversations, slyness, &c., which made her cheeks tingle
rather unpleasantly. Once too, Caroline had asked her what had become of
Lucy, in a tone which seemed to imply that her duty was to be with her,
forgetful that, if so, the duty was self-imposed.
She was then not a little relieved when the loud sounding bell announced
a visitor.
After a longer delay than usual a gentleman was introduced by the name
of "Morley." All eyes turned instantly upon him, and Mabel's were
interested in a moment. He was short in stature, and the bony strength
of his limbs, joined to great leanness, gave his person an angular
appearance. His features were strongly marked, the flesh had shrunk
from the high cheek-bone, leaving it more strikingly a feature of his
face; while his complexion bore the bronze of many an Eastern sun,
heedlessly encountered, for it was nearly copper colored. This, and a
slight stoop in the shoulder, gave him an appearance of age; while his
hair of untinged black, the arched eyebrow, and piercing eye, spoke
almost of youthfulness. That eye was the single attraction of his face,
and so rigidly still was every other feature, that it seemed the only
weapon of offence or defence, made to express the hasty fire of an
enthusiastic mind, or the milder sensations of the heart beneath. If it
closed, it left the countenance in stern and harsh composure, with
something upon it that spoke contempt of pleasure and defiance of pain;
as if, upon the rack, every nerve had been wound up for endurance of
severest trial, and utterly refused a compromise. But open, that eye
gazing with all its power, it forced the observer's thoughts back upon
himself, and seemed there to detect the slightest shade of falsehood or
deceit, which might before have slumbered unperceived.
His dress too, partook of his singularity, for it seemed made for a
stouter and taller man, and hung loosely about him, in shabby _neglige_;
and over all he wore a kind of thick Spanish cloak, which, like his
face, had had a tolerable share of wear and sunshine, and helped, with
all the other ingredients of face, figure, and dress, to mark him for a
"character."
All the girls were a little surprised. Selina assumed, with admirable
quickness, her pretty mean-nothing smile, and Maria laid down her book,
and, being in the back-ground, indulged in a full stare; while Caroline
said she feared there was some mistake, as her mamma was not acquainted
with the name.
"Very possibly," replied Mr. Morley, "but I conclude your servant acted
by your orders when he said, that if I wanted to wait for Colonel
Hargrave I had better do so here."
Caroline slightly colored, as she was fully aware that any gentleman of
marriageable rank and age had rather too free an introduction to the
house, and was seldom allowed to leave it without having had a tolerable
opportunity of falling in love. This general desire of the mistress to
admit all gentlemen, was pretty well known to Jones, their accomplished
serving man, who had been in the family long enough to comprehend and
half sympathise with its views; and he seldom suffered a stranger's call
to end without admittance to the drawing-room by some clever mistake.
And without too severe a scrutiny of Mr. Morley's appearance, beyond the
intuitive feeling that he was a gentleman (a point in which servants
seldom err) he had persuaded him that it would be better for him to wait
for Colonel Hargrave in the sitting-room, where the young ladies were.
But Caroline was not quite so quick in this discovery, and treated him
with an air of condescending haughtiness, as she said--
"If you wish to speak with the Colonel, pray take a seat; he is only
gone to put a letter in the post for me, and I expect him back
directly."
Satisfied with this display of her influence, she bowed to a chair which
Mabel, springing up, instantly gave him; for, quickly reading the
gentleman under the disguise of eccentricity, she was anxious to atone
for Caroline's manner, which too plainly testified her idea that he was
a tradesman calling for orders, or a supplicant, begging pecuniary
assistance.
"Thank you, Miss Lesly," said he, in a voice of peculiar depth and
melody.
The sisters exchanged glances. So little do we naturally like to be
overlooked by the most indifferent people, on the most indifferent
occasions, that Caroline's eye grew dark as she imagined that her cousin
had already become an object of remark; forgetting that the difference
in her dress might easily distinguish the orphan.
The mention of her name seemed to Mabel to claim something like
acquaintance, and, seeing that her cousins were unwilling to shew him
any politeness, she at once endeavoured to draw him into conversation.
At first he seemed to pay little attention to the trifling subjects,
which, at the commencement of a conversation, almost necessarily form an
introduction to others; but, at length, as if roused by the tones of her
sweet voice, he eagerly entered upon a topic of foreign interest, which
she casually mentioned, with as much eloquence and enthusiasm as he had
before shewn indifference.
Mabel, at the same time, shewed that she was perfect mistress of the
subject she had introduced, in all its details, and, without once
violating that delicate calmness in debate, which feminine modesty
should never exceed, she drew out his opinions, and stated her own,
with so much truth and elegance, that Maria laid down her book, and
listened with wondering attention.
In a house where every thing was display, Mabel had never yet found or
sought, an opportunity of shewing the talents, which vigilant and
miscellaneous reading had richly cultivated. She had infused, rather
than spoken, her sentiments, but now, her tongue unloosed by the evident
pleasure she was giving, and her mind recalled to old subjects of
interest, she spoke as if a sudden spell had wakened her energy.
"I see," said Mr. Morley, after watching, in silence, the flushed cheek
and sparkling eye which added emphasis and sincerity to what she said,
"I see that you would tell me that 'Honesty is the best policy,' in
public as in private life. If there were many women in this world who
could enforce this doctrine in the same manner, we should not so often
see, the husbands, brothers, and sons, of old England, erring from that
golden rule. Cherish such sentiments, for the fountain of the heart
should be pure and holy, since the current of the world can so soon soil
its waters. I can better excuse an erring practice than an erring
principle, for the one may be the result of a thousand strong and bitter
temptations, but the other must be the effect of ignorant or wilful
wickedness and ingratitude. The good may fall seven times in a day,
indeed, but the man of corrupt principle is too low to fall at all. If
you feel as you speak, and act as you feel, you are a noble girl, and
worthy to be a statesman's wife."
Every word which he uttered with the tone of unquestioned authority,
went, like a poisoned sting, to Caroline's heart. She bent over her
work, with affected contempt, but she would have given much, if, at that
moment, she could have struck him as the Asiatic would a slave. Greatly,
too, to her mortification, she saw the side door, which connected the
room in which they were sitting, with the drawing-room beyond, open,
and Hargrave entered.
"Pardon me, my dear sir," he said, hurrying to Mr. Morley, and taking
his hand; "but as I came to meet you, the sound of your voice
overpowered me--and, waiting to recover myself, I overheard part of the
conversation in which you were engaged."
As he said this, he turned his eyes towards Mabel, perhaps expecting, to
see something in her countenance, of the animation expressed by her
words; but her face was suffused, as with the brightness of the rose,
shrouded by evening dew--her eyes were bent on the ground--and, as if,
like that lovely flower, her head were too heavy for her slender neck to
support, she bent it also beneath his glance. Could this be the
tranquil, self-commanding Mabel, blushing, perhaps, because she
perceived, that, while seeking to draw a timid stranger into
conversation, she had been insensibly gratifying the same wish, on his
part, and had been, unconsciously, displaying her own powers to his
observation.
Mr. Morley gently touched the arm of the younger man, who turned round,
as if to introduce him to Miss Villars--but, as he did so, the hall-bell
again announced a visitor.
"Come, my dear sir," he then said, changing his purpose, "come to my
room, before we are inveigled into fashionable talk--I must have you all
to myself."
And he dragged rather than led him from the room, just as Mr. Stokes, a
sporting gentleman from Gloucestershire, was announced.
Maria started from her lazy position, flung aside her book, and darting
to Mabel, snatched the pocket-handkerchief she was hemming from her
hand, almost disordering her hair by the violence of the action, and
then hurriedly seated herself, as if she had been working. This little
diversion, in her favor, was covered by the retreat of the two
gentlemen, and the necessary pause at the door, as the one party
retreated, and Mr. Stokes entered, whip in hand, with splashed boots,
and the dress which most became him, his red hunting coat, which gave
point to his blunt, off-hand manners.
Mabel pitied, and struggled, with her accustomed gentleness, to excuse
her cousin's rudeness, as she listened to Mr. Stokes's blunt compliment
on Maria's needle-work, and his animated account of the chace, from
which he had just ridden home.
Some accidental allusion to Gloucestershire soon told him that Mabel was
from his native country--and being a great lover of everything that
seemed like home, he began talking to her so fast, that she had little
need to say anything to help forward the conversation. Maria was
evidently annoyed--and Mabel did her best to be silent; but it was an
unfortunate afternoon, and seemed destined to make her worse enemies
than she had before. Her silence could not be imputed to stupidity by
the dullest, who looked in her face; and the squire, charmed with the
idea of having made her shy, which he deemed the effect of something in
himself, and, at the same time, feeling the charm of retreating beauty,
pursued what he deemed an amusing advantage, addressed all his jokes and
stories to her, and called for her approval of his quotations from their
county dialect, which were so inimitable and so familiar, that she could
no longer suppress her smiles. Maria bit her lips to conceal her
vexation. True, he laughed just as immoderately over the use she made of
the whimsical slang of the day--called her a "funny fellow," and taught
her pretty oaths, which, after all, are but a kind of paper currency for
sin. Yet, when he spoke to Mabel, he insensibly assumed more respect for
himself and her; for few men are so quick at discovering where respect
is really due, as those who are the most ready to lay it aside, when in
their power to do so.
Maria was shrewd and penetrating. Her self-love had received too many
rebuffs in the gay world in which she lived, to blind her to the
truth--and she had not listened more than one tedious hour--for the
Squire paid long visits--before she discovered that she had made a fatal
mistake in his character. She soon perceived that neither the roughness
of his manners, nor the random style of his conversation, had left him
insensible to the purity of a deep, blue eye, or the magic influence of
feminine delicacy and refinement.
And was it to win the heart of such a man that she had so studiously
dropped the little she had possessed of feminine reserve, to adopt the
coarser and freer manners which she had imagined a sportsman would most
admire. She felt the ground was lost, which she had no power to
retrieve, and her spirit chafed, with all the bitterness and
mortification which those must feel, who have in any way debased
themselves to obtain any worldly object, and are conscious of it only
when they find themselves disappointed. She would have been still more
chagrined could she have divined that nothing but her having so rudely
snatched the handkerchief had given a turn to Mabel's thoughts, and
prevented her leaving the room, since by doing so, she would have
appeared either snubbed or affronted.
Poor Maria! she had never believed herself so near marriage before.
Scarcely had they reached this height of discomfort, when another
morning visitor was introduced--Miss Lovelace, with a multitudinous
number of light ringlets and narrow flounces. With a nod to Maria, which
meant--"I see you are better engaged," she took her seat near the two
elder girls, and was soon deep in an account of a charming ball, which
she had attended the night before, with which she mixed many hints of
her own conquests, together, with her indignation at all the spiteful
things people said of her, and the Misses Villars.
After talking, with the utmost rapidity, for half-an-hour, she suddenly
changed her tone to one of commiseration, as she enquired--
"And how is poor Lucy?"
"Thank you, she is down stairs to-day," replied Caroline.
"Oh, I am so glad--for I heard such dismal accounts of her, last night,
I could not help coming to see how she was. I won't ask to see her--but
I do so pity her."
"I suppose her story is half over the town," said Caroline; "silly
girl--of course, mamma knew nothing about it, or she would have seen
into it before."
"Did not she though?" said Miss Lovelace, with great interest, gathering
materials, as she was, for the next visit. "Why, every one saw it long
ago, and said she was dying for him--the wretch."
"And what do people say now?" lisped Selina, as if she were talking of
the reputation of a hair pin instead of that of a sister.
"Why, you know, now, the truth is in every one's mouth--quite the talk
of the day. How it was known that he was married, I cannot tell--but my
maid told me--and all my partners were talking of it last night. I told
young Philips I would never waltz with him again, if he did not find
some innocent way of murdering Mrs. Beauclerc, and bringing Lucy's love
affair to a happy conclusion. And the best of it is, young Philips
himself has been as bad, for he has been wandering up and down the
Circus like a mad thing, for this month past, trying to catch a sight of
Miss Foster, and contented if he only saw her shadow pass the window."
Here they all laughed, and Mr. Stokes chimed in.
"What is that story about Miss Lucy Villars and Mr. Beauclerc? I heard
something of it at the hunt, from young farmer Sykes--but I thought it
might be delicate ground."
Mabel did not wait to hear the answer to this last remark--for when the
sisters so coolly deserted the standard of delicacy, she felt she had no
right to interfere; and blushing, more for them than for Lucy, she left
the room, rather too precipitately--for Mr. Stokes, having, the minute
before, whispered a compliment, which she had been too occupied even to
hear, he attributed her flight to the sudden admiration she was
conscious she was exciting. As the door closed upon her, he remembered
how often he had joined Caroline and Maria, in laughing over the
eccentricities of their country cousin, whom he had never before
seen--and, fearing a repetition of the same remarks, or their ridicule,
if he refused to join in them, he took up his hat, and rapidly
apologising for having made such a complete "visitation," he wished them
good morning, and departed, without waiting to hear more than he could
help of Miss Lovelace's answer to his question.
Mabel had no sooner escaped from the drawing-room, than she hurried to
the study. Her first glance told her that Lucy had been exerting herself
beyond her strength to appear cheerful and happy, for she looked pale
and wearied; and no sooner did she see her enter, than she went to her,
folded her arms round her, and laid her head upon her shoulder--then,
raising it again, that she might look her in the face, and thank her for
all her kindness to her, she burst into hysteric sobs.
Mabel drew her away, led her to her own room, and caressed and soothed
her again into tranquillity, when she made her go to bed, and then
stopped and praised her first day's effort so warmly, that Lucy almost
smiled her thanks.
She then returned to the study, where Mr. Villars was waiting, in some
alarm. Taking her hand, he enquired, anxiously--
"How is my child?"
"She is much better, dear uncle--but she is very weak, you know,
yet--and her spirits are uncertain--though she tried to exert them, lest
you might think her dull. I shall give her entirely to you to take care
of now."
"My good girl," he replied, with the thick, husky voice of suppressed
emotion, "when I worked, for so many long years, at a business that I
hated--I dreamed of such a time as this. The last few hours have been
the happiest I have spent since my retirement. And is not this your
doing? How true it is, that we often entertain angels unawares."
She tried to speak, while tears of hallowed pleasure dimmed the sparkle
of her deep azure eyes, her lips trembled, and her cheek flushed; then
stooping over the hand that held hers, she kissed it, drew herself away,
and fled from the room.
She might have said to herself--"What! have I devoted so many weeks to
his service, and yet a few hours from the truant Lucy give him more
pleasure than all those of my unwearied service!"
But no such thought, even by its most transitory influence, sullied the
heart of the self-devoted girl.