"Point de milieu: l'hymen et ses liens
Sont les plus grands ou des maux ou des biens."
_L' Enfant Prodigue._
ON returning to the parlour they found Sir Sampson had, by means of the
indefatigable Philistine, been transported into a suit of regimentals
and well-powdered peruke, which had in some measure restored him to his
usual complacency. Henry, who had gone in quest of some person to take
charge of the horses, now entered; and shortly after a tray of
provisions was brought, which the half-famished party eagerly attacked,
regardless of their hostess's admonitions to eat sparingly, as nothing
was so dangerous as eating heartily when people were hungry.
The repast being at length concluded, Lady Maclaughlan led her guests
into the saloon. They passed through an antechamber, which seemed, by
the faint light of the lamp, to contain nothing but piles on piles of
china, and entered the room of state.
The eye at first wandered in uncertain obscurity; and the guests
cautiously proceeded over a bare oaken floor, whose dark polished
surface seemed to emulate a mirror, through an apartment of formidable
extent.
The walls were hung with rich but grotesque tapestry. The ceiling, by
its height and massy carving, bespoke the age of the apartment; but the
beauty of the design was lost in the gloom.
A Turkey carpet was placed in the middle of the floor; and on the middle
of the carpet stood the card table, at which two footmen, hastily
summoned from the revels at Sandy More's, were placing chairs and cards;
seemingly eager to display themselves, as if to prove that they were
always at their posts.
Cards were a matter of course with Sir Sampson and his lady; but as
whist was the only game they ever played, a difficulty arose as to the
means of providing amusement for the younger part of the company.
"I have plenty of books for you, my loves," said Lady Maclaughlan; and,
taking one of the candles, she made a journey to the other end of the
room, and entered a small turret, from which her voice was heard issuing
most audibly, "All the books that should ever have been published are
here. Read these, and you need read no more: all the world's in these
books--humph! Here's the Bible, great and small, with apocrypha and
concordance! Here's Floyer's Medicina Gerocomica, or the Galenic Art of
Preserving Old Men's Health;--Love's Art of Surveying and Measuring
Land;--Transactions of the Highland Society;--Glass's Cookery;--Flavel's
Fountain of Life Opened;--Fencing Familiarised;--Observations on the Use
of Bath Waters;--Cure for Soul Sores;--De Blondt's Military
Memoirs;--MacGhie's Book-keeping;--Mead on Pestilence;--Astenthology, or
the Art of Preserving Feeble Life!"
As she enumerated the contents of her library, she paused at the end of
each title, in hopes of hearing the book called for; but she was allowed
to proceed without interruption to the end of her catalogue.
"Why, what would you have, children?" cried she in one of her sternest
accents. "I don't know! Do you know yourselves? Here are two novels, the
only ones worth any Christian's reading."
Henry gladly accepted the first volumes of Gil Bias and Clarissa
Harlowe; and, giving the latter to Lady Juliana, began the other
himself. Miss Becky was settled with her hands across; and, the whist
party being arranged, a solemn silence ensued.
Lady Juliana turned over a few pages of her own book, then begged
Henry would exchange with her; but both were in so different a style
from the French and German school she had been accustomed to, that they
were soon relinquished in disappointment and disgust.
On the table, which had been placed by the fire for her accommodation,
lay an English newspaper; and to that she had recourse, as a last effort
at amusement. But, alas! even the dulness of Clarissa Harlowe was
delight compared to the anguish with which this fatal paper was fraught,
in the shape of the following paragraph, which presented itself to the
unfortunate fair one's eye:--
"Yesterday was married, by special license, at the house of Mrs. D---,
his Grace the Duke of L---, to the beautiful and accomplished Miss D---.
His Royal Highness the Duke of ---- was gracious enough to act as father
to the bride upon this occasion, and was present in person, as were
their Royal Highnesses the Dukes of ---, and of ---. The bride looked
most bewitchingly lovely, in a simple robe of the finest Mechlin lace,
with a superb veil of the same costly material, which hung down to her
feet. She wore a set of pearls estimated at thirty thousand pounds,
whose chaste elegance corresponded with the rest of the dress.
Immediately after the ceremony they partook of a sumptuous collation,
and the happy pair set off in a chariot and four, attended by six
outriders, and two coaches and four.
"After spending the honeymoon at his Grace's unique villa on the Thames,
their Graces will receive company at their splendid mansion in Portman
Square. The wedding paraphernalia is said to have cost ten thousand
pounds; and her Grace's jewel-box is estimated at little less than half
a million."
Wretched as Lady Juliana had long felt herself to be, her former state
of mind was positive happiness compared to what she now endured. Envy,
regret, self-reproach, and resentment, all struggled in the breast of
the self-devoted beauty, while the paper dropped from her hand, and she
cast a fearful glance around, as if to ascertain the reality of her
fate. The dreadful certainty smote her with a sense of wretchedness too
acute to be suppressed; and, darting a look of horror at her unconscious
husband, she threw herself back in her chair, while the scalding tears
of envy, anger, and repentance fell from her eyes.
Accustomed as Henry now was to these ebullitions of _feeling_ from his
beauteous partner, he was not yet so indifferent as to behold them
unmoved; and he sought to soothe her by the kindest expressions and most
tender epithets. These indeed had long since ceased to charm away the
lady's ill-humour, but they sometimes succeeded in mollifying it. But
now their only effect seemed to be increasing the irritation, as she
turned from all her husband's inquiries, and impatiently withdrew her
hands from his.
Astonished at a conduct so incomprehensible, Douglas earnestly besought
an explanation.
"There!" cried she, at length, pushing the paper towards him, "see
there what I might have been but for you; and then compare it with what
you have made me!"
Confounded by this reproach, Henry eagerly snatched up the paper, and
his eye instantly fell on the fatal paragraph--the poisoned dart that
struck the death-blow to all that now remained to him of happiness--the
fond idea that, even amidst childish folly and capricious estrangement,
still in the main he was beloved! With a quivering lip, and cheek
blanched with mortification and indignant contempt, he laid down the
paper; and without casting a look upon, or uttering a word to, his once
_adored and adoring Juliana,_ quitted the apartment in all that
bitterness of spirit which a generous nature must feel when it first
discovers the fallacy of a cherished affection. Henry had indeed ceased
to regard his wife with the ardour of romantic passion; nor had the
solid feelings of affectionate esteem supplied its place; but he loved
her still, because he believed himself the engrossing object of her
tenderness; and in that blest delusion he had hitherto found palliatives
for her folly and consolation for all his own distresses.
To indifference he might for a time have remained insensible; because,
though his feelings were strong, his perceptions were not acute. But the
veil of illusion was now rudely withdrawn. He beheld himself detested
where he imagined himself adored; and the anguish of disappointed
affection was heightened by the stings of wounded pride and deluded
self-love.