"I but purpose to embark with thee
On the smooth surface of a summer sea,
While gentle zephyrs play in prosp 'rous gales,
And Fortune's favour fills the swelling sails."
_Henry and Emma._
How long these voluntary sacrifices to duty and propriety might have
been made it would mot be difficult to guess; but Lady Juliana's
approaching confinement rendered her seclusion more and more a matter of
necessity; and shortly after these events took place she presented her
delighted husband with a son. Henry lost no time in announcing the birth
of his child to General Cameron, and at the same time requesting he
would stand godfather, and give his name to the child. The answer was as
follows;--
"HORT LODGE, BERKS.
"DEAR HENRY--By this time twelve month I hope it will be my turn to
communicate to you a similar event in my family to that which your
letter announces to me. As a preliminary step, I am just about to march
into quarters for life with a young woman, daughter to my steward. She
is healthy, good-humoured, and of course vulgar, since she is no
connoisseur in china, and never spoke to a pug-dog in her life.
"Your allowance will be remitted regularly from my Banker until the day
of my death; you will then succeed to ten thousand pounds, secured to
your children, which is all you have to expect from me. If, after this,
you think it worth your while, you are very welcome to give your son the
name of yours faithfully, WILLIAM CAMERON."
Henry's consternation at the contents of this epistle was almost
equalled by Juliana's indignation. "The daughter of a steward!--Heavens!
it made her sick to think of it. It was too shocking! The
man ought to be shut up. Henry ought to prevent him from disgracing his
connexions in such a manner. There ought to be a law against old men
marrying--"
"And young ones too," groaned Douglas, as he thought of the debts he had
contracted on the faith and credit of being the General's heir; for with
all the sanguine presumption of thoughtless youth and buoyant spirits,
Henry had no sooner found his fault forgiven than he immediately fancied
it forgotten, and himself completely restored to favour. His friends and
the world were of the same opinion; and, as the future possessor of
immense wealth, he found nothing so easy as to borrow money and contract
debts, which he now saw the impossibility of ever discharging. Still he
flattered himself the General might only mean to frighten him; or he
might relent; or the marriage might go off; or he might not have any
children; and, with these _mighty_ hopes, things went on as usual for
some time longer. Lady Juliana, who, to do her justice, was not of a
more desponding character than her husband, had also her stock of hopes
and expectations always ready to act upon. She was quite sure that if
papa ever came to his senses (for he had remained in a state of
stupefaction since the apoplectic stroke) he would forgive her, and take
her to live with him, now that that vile Lady Lindore was gone, or, if
he should never recover, she was equally sure of benefiting by his
death; for though he had said he was not to leave her a shilling, she
did not believe it. She was sure papa would never do anything so cruel;
and at any rate, if he did, Lindore was so generous, he would do
something very handsome for her; and so forth.
At length the bubbles burst. The same paper that stated the marriage of
General William Cameron to Judith Broadcast, Spinster, announced, in all
the dignity of woe, the death of that most revered noble man and eminent
statesman, Augustus, Earl of Courtland.
In weak minds it has generally been remarked that no medium can be
maintained. Where hope holds her dominion she is too buoyant to be
accompanied by her anchor; and between her and despair there are no
gradations. Desperate indeed now became the condition of the misjudging
pair. Lady Juliana's name was not even mentioned in her father's will,
and the General's marriage rendered his settlements no longer a secret.
In all the horrors of desperation, Henry now found himself daily beset
by creditors of every description. At length the fatal blow came.
Horses, carriages, everything they could call their own, were seized.
The term for which they held the house was expired, and they found
themselves on the point of being turned into the street, when Lady
Juliana, who had been for two days, as her woman expressed it, _out of
one fit into another,_ suddenly recovered strength to signify her desire
of being conveyed to her brother's house. A hackney coach was procured,
into which the hapless victim of her own follies was carried. Shuddering
with disgust, and accompanied by her children and their attendants, she
was set down at the noble mansion from which she had fled two years
before.
Her brother, whom she fortunately found at home, lolling upon a sofa
with a new novel in his hand, received her without any marks of
surprise; said those things happened every day; hoped Captain Douglas
would contrive to get himself extricated from this slight embarrassment;
and informed his sister that she was welcome to occupy her old
apartments, which had been lately fitted up for Lady Lindore. Then
ringing the bell, he desired the housekeeper might show Lady Juliana
upstairs, and put the children in the nursery; mentioned that he
generally dined at eight o'clock; and, nodding to his sister as she
quitted the room, returned to his book, as if nothing had occurred to
disturb him from it.
In ten minutes after her entrance into Courtland house Lady Juliana had
made greater advances in _religion_ and _philosophy_ than she had done
in the whole nineteen years of her life; for she not only perceived
that "out of evil cometh good," but was perfectly ready to admit that
"all is for the best," and that "whatever is, is right."
"How lucky is it for me," exclaimed she to herself, as she surveyed the
splendid suite of apartments that were destined for her
accommodation--"how very fortunate that things have turned out as they
have done; that Lady Lindore should have run off, and that the General's
marriage should have taken place just at the time of poor papa's death
"--and, in short, Lady Juliana set no bounds to her self-gratulations on
the happy turn of affairs which had brought about this change in her
situation.
To a heart not wholly devoid of feeling, and a mind capable of anything
like reflection, the desolate appearance of this magnificent mansion
would have excited emotions of a very different nature. The apartments
of the late Earl, with their wide extended doors and windows, sheeted
furniture, and air of dreary order, exhibited that waste and chilling
aspect which marks the chambers of death; and even Lady Juliana
shuddered, she knew not why, as she passed through them.
Those of Lady Lindore presented a picture not less striking, could her
thoughtless successor have profited by the lesson they offered. Here was
all that the most capricious fancy, the most boundless extravagance, the
most refined luxury, could wish for or suggest. The bedchamber,
dressing-room, and boudoir were each fitted up in a style that seemed
rather suited for the pleasures of an Eastern sultana or Grecian
courtesan than for the domestic comfort of a British matron.
"I wonder how Lady Lindore could find in her heart to leave this
delicious boudoir," observed Lady Juliana to the old housekeeper.
"I rather wonder, my Lady, how she could find in her heart to leave
these pretty babies," returned the good woman, as a little boy came
running into the room, calling, "Mamma, mamma!" Lady Juliana had
nothing to say to children beyond a "How d'ye do, love?" and the child,
after regarding her for a moment, with a look of disappointment, ran
away back to his nursery.
When Lady Juliana had fairly settled herself in her new apartments, and
the tumult of delight began to subside, it occurred to her that
something must be done for poor Harry, whom she had left in the hands of
a brother officer, in a state little short of distraction. She
accordingly went in search of her brother, to request his advice and
assistance, and found him, it being nearly dark, preparing to set out on
his morning's ride. Upon hearing the situation of his brother-in-law he
declared himself ready to assist Mr. Douglas as far as he was able; but
he had just learned from his people of business that his own affairs
were somewhat involved. The late Earl had expended enormous sums on
political purposes; Lady Lindore had run through a prodigious deal of
money, he believed; and he himself had some debts, amounting, he was
told, to seventy thousand pounds. Lady Juliana was all aghast at this
information, which was delivered with the most perfect _nonchalance_ by
the Earl, while he amused himself with his Newfoundland dog. Unable to
conceal her disappointment at these effects of her brother's "liberality
and generosity," Lady Juliana burst into tears.
The Earl's sensibility was akin to his generosity; he gave money (or
rather allowed it to be taken) freely when he had it, from indolence and
easiness of temper; he hated the sight of distress in any individual,
because it occasioned trouble, and was, in short, a _bore. _He therefore
made haste to relieve his sister's alarm by assuring her that these were
mere trifles; that, as for Douglas's affairs, he would order his agent
to arrange everything in his name; hoped to have the pleasure of seeing
him at dinner; recommended to his sister to have some pheasant pies for
luncheon; and, calling Carlo, set out upon his ride.
However much Lady Juliana had felt mortified and disappointed at
learning the state of her brother's finances, she began, by degrees, to
extract the greatest consolation from the comparative insignificance of
her own debts to those of the Earl; and accordingly, in high spirits at
this newly discovered and judicious source of comfort, she despatched
the following note to her husband:--
"DEAREST HENRY--I have been received in the kindest manner
imaginable by Frederick, and have been put in possession of my old
apartments, which are so much altered, I should never have known them.
They were furnished by Lady Lindore, who really has a divine taste. I
long to show you all the delights of this abode. Frederick desired me to
say that he expects to see you here at dinner, and that he will take
charge of paying all our bills whenever he gets money. Only think of his
owing a hundred thousand pounds, besides all papa's and Lady Lindore's
debts! I assure you I was almost ashamed to tell him of ours, they
sounded so trifling; but it is quite a relief to find other people so
much worse. Indeed, I always thought it quite natural for us to run in
debt, considering that we had no money to pay anything, while Courtland,
who is as rich as a Jew, is so hampered. I shall expect you at eight,
until when, adieu, _mio caro_,
"Your JULIE.
"I am quite wretched about you."
This tender and consolatory billet Henry had not the satisfaction of
receiving, having been arrested, shortly after his wife's departure, at
the suit of Mr. Shagg, for the sum of two thousand some odd hundreds,
for carriages jobbed, bought, exchanged, repaired, returned, etc.
Lady Juliana's horror and dismay at the news of her husband's arrest
were excessive. Her only ideas of confinement were taken from those
pictures of the Bastile and Inquisition that she had read so much of in
French and German novels; and the idea of a prison was indissolubly
united in her mind with bread and water, chains and straw, dungeons and
darkness. Callous and selfish, therefore, as she might be, she was not
yet so wholly void of all natural feeling as to think with indifference
of the man she had once fondly loved reduced to such a pitiable
condition.
Almost frantic at the phantom of her own creation, she flew to her
brother's apartment, and, in the wildest and most incoherent manner,
besought him to rescue her poor Henry from chains and a dungeon.
With some difficulty Lord Courtland at length apprehended the extent of
his brother-in-Iaw's misfortune; and, with his usual _sang froid_,
smiled at his sister's simplicity, assured her the King's Bench was the
pleasantest place in the world; that some of his own most particular
friends were there, who gave capital dinners, and led the most desirable
lives imaginable.
"And will he really not be fed on bread and water, and wear chains, and
sleep upon straw?" asked the tender wife in the utmost surprise and
delight. "Oh, then, he is not so much to be pitied, though I dare say he
would rather get out of prison too."
The Earl promised to obtain his release the following day, and Lady
Juliana returned to her toilet with a much higher opinion of prisons
than she had ever entertained before.
Lord Courtland, for once in his life, was punctual to his promise; and
even interested himself so thoroughly in Douglas's affairs, though
without inquiring into any particulars, as to take upon himself the
discharge of his debts, and to procure leave for him to exchange into a
regiment of the line, then under orders for India.
Upon hearing of this arrangement Lady Juliana's grief and despair, as
usual, set all reason at defiance. She would not suffer her dear, dear
Harry to leave her. She knew she could not live without him; she was
sure she should die; and Harry would be sea sick, and grow so yellow and
so ugly that when he came back she should never have any comfort in him
again.
Henry, who had never doubted her readiness to accompany him, immediately
hastened to assuage her anguish by assuring her that it had always been
his intention to take her along with him.
That was worse and worse: she wondered how he could be so barbarous and
absurd as to think of her leaving all her friends and going to live
amongst savages. She had done a great deal in living so long contentedly
with him in Scotland; but she never could nor would make such another
sacrifice. Besides, she was sure poor Courtland could not do without
her; she knew he never would marry again; and who would take care of his
dear children, and educate them properly, if she did not? It would be
too ungrateful to desert Frederick, after all he had done for them.
The pride of the man, as much as the affection of the husband, was
irritated by this resistance to this will; and a violent scene of
reproach and recrimination terminated in an eternal farewell.