If happiness will not come of itself, most very sagacious people set
forth in search of that enjoyment which none are willing to do without,
though many plans are generally tried, before the right one be
discovered. Agnes now declared that she was "ridiculously happy," while
plunged in a whirl of preparations for Harrowgate, trying on every
bonnet at every milliner's, and discussing the tone and coloring of
silks or satins, with as much care and science as an amateur in
paintings would devote to the study of a Titian or a Vandyke, while her
spirits were restored to their highest pitch, by a letter she had
accidentally seen from Captain De Crespigny, expressing the greatest
delight in the prospect of seeing Sir Patrick and "his charming sister"
once more, and mentioning that he was about soon to arrive at the
Granby, in attendance on his uncle, who had already preceded him there.
Agnes at once restored herself now, to the pleasing certainty of
Captain De Crespigny's sincerity, and every ribbon she chose, or every
costume she ordered, had an immediate reference to his taste. "_La
toilette est une belle invention_;" but Marion's dress, without causing
half the trouble and _fracas_ occasioned by that of Agnes, seemed
invariably to fit better than any other person's, and the colors she
wore were always in the most perfect harmony.
Agnes never became wearied of the pleasurable bustle in which she was
now engaged, till at length, when the imperial was packed, and the last
box with extreme difficulty closed, she declared herself to be quite in
love with life, and sprang into Sir Arthur's carriage, radiant in all
the joy of a thousand anticipated triumphs. It might have been a study
for any artist wishing to sketch a frontispiece for "The Pleasures of
Hope," to see Agnes indulging all her own impossible expectations and
ineffable wishes; but unlike the Goddess of Hope, she required no
anchor whatever to rest on. Her drafts on the bank of futurity were
unlimited by a single consideration of reason or probability, and like
the Chinese plant that lives without requiring any nourishment from the
earth, she existed upon a diet of airy nothings, and in a pleasing
delirium of unreal fancies, wherein Captain De Crespigny generally
acted the principal part. In the mind of Agnes--or rather in the empty
space where a mind is supposed to be--she hung up a splendid
picture-gallery, grouped and painted according to her own taste,
displaying shadows as vivid as realities; and ignorant apparently that
ever "hope told a flattering tale," she seemed scarcely to have a past
or present period in her existence, the whole being formed into one
bright futurity, glittering with splendid impossibilities.
If those who waste and enervate their intellects by building castles in
the air, could be supposed able to create scenes in reality, as easily
and rapidly as they do in imagination, it would, perhaps, be the most
vivid conception man could form of omnipotent power. Agnes' _chateaux
en Espagne_ were in a most florid style of architecture, but scarcely
lasted long enough to become finished edifices, as the phantoms came
dashing through her mind in ceaseless variety, all apparently
fragments, or slight sketches of future greatness, but without a
probable access except the fool's ladder of hope. Her own visions were
all, certainly, to be realised, and those of every other person
disappointed, for the mortifications of even her intimate friends
enhanced the pleasure of anticipated success; and while her plans were
like the portraits of Queen Elizabeth, without a single shade, or like
temples of spun sugar, all sweetness without solidity, the crowning joy
of all was, to be envied, even more than to be admired.
While Agnes thus piled hope upon hope, her wishes were dedicated to
very solid possessions. In childhood her world had been a world of _bon
bons_ and rattles, and now the kaleidoscope of her imagination was
filled with an ever-changing galaxy of jewels, titles, equipages, toys,
gold, bijouterie, and coronets, among which the Marquisate of Doncaster
owed some of its prominence to the distinguished place it claimed in
the herald's office. Conscious that she had been born with a peculiar
genius for fine ladyism, Agnes considered the world as a large easy
chair, wherein she might lounge away life in a perpetual gala, enjoying
all the luxuries, and amused with all the trivialities of life. Having
an idea that her undoubted birth-right was distinction and happiness,
she considered it an undeserved injury to be deprived of a single
delight on which her heart was set. Carelessly despising the duties or
affections of life, she coveted only its diversions, and her favorite
consolation, amidst its actual annoyances, was frequently to
Blow sportive bladders in the beaming sun,
And call them worlds.
Sir Arthur had always been one of the few old people who would ever
allow himself to be considered well and happy, but he cultivated a
placid, cheerful good-humor, which enabled him now to prepare with
apparent equanimity for exploring his way through the unknown seas of
Harrowgate society, though he entered the carriage to be conveyed there
with very little more inward satisfaction than he would have felt on
stepping into a cart which was conveying him to Newgate, being fully
persuaded that no fish had ever been as much out of water in the world
before, as he was about to feel himself.
Impatience only lengthens the hours which it seems desirable to
accelerate, and time appeared to have become entirely motionless; while
Agnes peevishly thought, during her journey, that the minutes passed
like drops of lead, and that every day had some additional hours, till
that day of days should at last arrive which was to rise the curtain
and display Harrowgate to her view, though she almost ceased to repine
at any present inconveniences while bewildered and lost in gay hopes
for the future.
Sir Arthur good-humoredly whispered to Marion, as they drove along
through Yorkshire, that with such a mute as Agnes beside him, he felt
almost afraid of the bow-string, and that she was the mere _tableau_ of
a travelling companion, who seemed, like Lady Macbeth, to be literally
walking and talking in her sleep. While Marion and her uncle beguiled
their long journey with agreeable discussions and lively remarks,
Agnes, perfectly absent during most of the way, and out of humor during
the rest of it, uttered a thousand consequential complaints about the
cold, the heat, the sun, the dust, the air, or the closeness, while Sir
Arthur smilingly remarked, that Agnes' life seemed to be a sea of
troubles, but hope served as a cork jacket to support her through them
all.
Like the fairy who turned a gloomy grove into a crystal palace, Agnes
had now, in her private mind, metamorphosed the Admiral's old green
chariot into a glittering saloon at Harrowgate, filled by a crowd of
admirers, each gifted with almost superhuman merit and distinction, who
were to fall prostrate at her feet, making proposals which sometimes
she gracefully accepted, and sometimes as gracefully declined. Nothing
was real around Agnes at present; but as the picture of a friend
supplies the want of the original, so the imaginary attentions of
Captain De Crespigny and other victims, consoled her for their being
absent, and her life became a lively comedy, where the curtain never
fell, and she was herself always the principal figure on the stage.
Neither Alnwick Castle nor Harewood House attracted a moment's
attention from Agnes, who cared no more for the magnificent landscapes
they passed, than did the post-horses that drew the carriage; and when
the party stopped at Caterick Bridge to dine, she had just put on the
family diamonds of the Duke of Kinross, who waited to conduct her to
the altar. It was a favorite speculation with Agnes, that she was to
become acquainted in the public room at Harrowgate, with some handsome
_incognito_, the sort of perfect Adonis whom alone it would be possible
to marry; and after dancing, flirting, dining, and supping with him,
he was to turn out the Duke of Somebody, who should make her a
long-sighed-for declaration of undying attachment, while Barons, Earls,
Viscounts, and above all, Captain De Crespigny, should be plunged into
the depths of despair by her accepting him.
Agnes' lovers were never estimated according to the qualities of their
head or heart, but according to the trivialities of their dress and
appearance. Like the Grecian artist, in love with an image of his own
forming, the description of her intended lovers, with which she
occasionally favored Marion, resembled a lecture on comparative
anatomy, so emphatic was she on the necessity of his being neither too
tall, nor too short, too dark, nor too fair; while she would evidently
have considered a bad temper less objectionable than a bad complexion,
and was ready to tolerate a man who was dissipated, rather than one who
was awkward.
In the estimation of Agnes, "good society" was composed entirely of
lords and ladies, while her fancy very seldom strayed out of the
peerage; though she did sometimes take the trouble to fancy herself
admired by some distinguished commoner of more than ordinary celebrity,
merely for the pleasure of rejecting him, and swelling her right
honorable triumph, when she exchanged her wreath of roses for a
coronet. Those who had been proverbially inconstant to other ladies,
would now become unchangeably devoted to her; and if she heard of any
individual more than commonly fatal to the peace of other ladies, her
fertile mind suggested scenes of romance and rapture, where the
injuries of others would be more than revenged by the distracting
suspense in which she meant to hold her intended victim.
While the world thus ran upon castors in the imagination of Agnes, no
novel could be nearly so interesting as her own rose-colored dreams,
because in none could she be herself the heroine; but when reading the
most romantic romances, they served occasionally to suggest new scenes
of emotion and pleasure, which could be adapted with variations to her
own case, while all she saw in books flitted like a gay phantasmagoria
from her mind, except what could be in any way applied to herself. The
business of life, in short, was, she thought, to make every man living
in love with her, and to get through existence like a party of
pleasure, crowding into it the greatest possible variety of amusements,
and ending the whole with orange flowers, Brussels lace, wedding-cake,
and favors.
None of the sacred duties or home affections ever entered into Agnes'
calculations. She lived merely for the triumphs of society; while
Marion existed for the happiness of home, seeking only the redeeming
points of life, and absorbed in a prevailing desire to deserve and to
obtain the attachment of those who were by nature nearest and dearest
to herself. As the proverb says, "A long road or a bad inn teach us to
know our companions;" but all that a generous person can do for others,
and all that a selfish person fancies he could do, Marion did, with
unobtrusive attention, for Sir Arthur and Agnes during the journey;
while her sister sarcastically remarked, that even if Dash wagged his
tail to her, she seemed grateful for his regard.