NO COINAGE IN CIRCULATION S0 FLUCTUATES IN VALUE AS THE WORTH OF A
MARRIAGEABLE MAN.
Colonel Morley was not surprised (that, we know, he could not be, by any
fresh experience of human waywardness and caprice), but much disturbed
and much vexed by the unexpected nature of Darrell's communication.
Schemes for Darrell's future lead become plans of his own. Talk with his
old school-fellow had, within the last three months, entered into the
pleasures of his age. Darrell's abrupt and final renunciation of this
social world made at once a void in the business of Alban's mind, and in
the affections of Alban's heart. And no adequate reason assigned for so
sudden a flight and so morbid a resolve! Some tormenting remembrance--
some rankling grief--distinct from those of which Alban was cognisant,
from those in which he had been consulted, was implied, but by vague and
general hints. But what was the remembrance or the grief, Alban Morley,
who knew everything, was quite persuaded that Darrell would never suffer
him to know. Could it be in any way connected with those three young
ladies to whom Darrell's attentions had been so perversely impartial?
The Colonel did not fail to observe that to those young ladies Darrell's
letter made no allusion. Was it not possible that he had really felt for
one of them a deeper sentiment than a man advanced in years ever likes to
own even to his nearest friend--hazarded a proposal, and met with a
rebuff? If so, Alban conjectured the female culprit by whom the
sentiment had been inspired, and the rebuff administered. "That
mischievous kitten, Flora Vyvyan," growled the Colonel. "I always felt
that she had the claws of a tigress under her /patte de velours/!"
Roused by this suspicion, he sallied forth to call on the Vyvyans. Mr.
Vyvyan, a widower, one of those quiet gentleman-like men who sit much in
the drawing-room and like receiving morning visitors, was at home to him.
"So Darrell has left town for the season," said the Colonel, pushing
straight to the point.
"Yes," said Mr. Vyvyan. "I had a note from him this morning to say he
had renounced all hope of--"
"What?" cried the Colonel.
"Joining us in Switzerland. I am so sorry. Flora still more sorry. She
is accustomed to have her own way, and she had set her heart on hearing
Darrell read 'Manfred' in sight of the Jungfrau!"
"Um!" said the Colonel. "What might be sport to her might be death to
him. A man at his age is not too old to fall in love with a young lady
of hers. But he is too old not to be extremely ridiculous to such a
young lady if he does."
"Colonel Morley--Fie!" cried an angry voice behind him. Flora had
entered the room unobserved. Her face was much flushed, and her eyelids
looked as if tears had lately swelled beneath them, and were swelling
still.
"What have I said to merit your rebuke?" asked the Colonel composedly.
"Said! coupled the thought of ridicule with the name of Mr. Darrell!"
"Take care, Morley," said Mr. Vyvyan, laughing. "Flora is positively
superstitious in her respect for Guy Darrell; and you cannot offend her
more than by implying that he is mortal. Nay, child, it is very natural.
Quite apart from his fame, there is something in that man's familiar
talk, or rather, perhaps, in the very sound of his voice, which makes
most other society seem flat and insipid.
"I feel it myself. And when Flora's young admirers flutter and babble
round her--just after Darrell has quitted his chair beside her--they seem
very poor company. I am sure, Flora," continued Vyvyan kindly, "that the
mere acquaintance of such a man has done you much good; and I am now in
great hopes that, whenever you marry, it will be a man of sense."
"Um!" again said the Colonel, eyeing Flora aslant, but with much
attention. "How I wish, for my friend's sake, that he was of an age
which inspired Miss Vyvyan with less--veneration."
Flora turned her back on the Colonel, looking out of the window, and her
small foot beating the ground with nervous irritation.
"It was given out that Darrell intended to marry again," said Mr. Vyvyan.
"A man of that sort requires a very superior highly-educated woman; and
if Miss Carr Vipont had been a little more of his age she would have just
suited him. But I am patriot enough to hope that he will remain single,
and have no wife but his country, like Mr. Pitt." The Colonel having now
satisfied his curiosity, and assured himself that Darrell was, there at
least, no rejected suitor, rose and approached Flora to make peace and to
take leave. As he held out his hand, he was struck with the change in a
countenance usually so gay in its aspect--it spoke of more than
dejection, it betrayed distress; when she took his hand, she retained it,
and looked into his eyes wistfully; evidently there was something on her
mind which she wished to express and did not know how. At length she
said in a whisper: "You are Mr. Darrell's most intimate friend; I have
heard him say so; shall you see him soon?"
"I fear not; but why?"
"Why? you, his friend; do you not perceive that he is not happy? I, a
mere stranger, saw it at the first. You should cheer and comfort him;
you have that right--it is a noble privilege."
"My dear young lady," said the Colonel, touched, "you have a better heart
than I thought for. It is true Darrell is not a happy man; but can you
give me any message that might cheer him more than an old bachelor's
commonplace exhortations to take heart, forget the rains of yesterday,
and hope for some gleam of sun on the morrow?"
"No," said Flora, sadly, "it would be a presumption indeed in me, to
affect the consoler's part; but"--(her lips quivered)--"but if I may
judge by his letter, I may never see him again."
"His letter! He has written to you, then, as well as to your father?"
"Yes," said Flora, confused and colouring, "a few lines in answer to a
silly note of mine; yes, tell him that I shall never forget his kind
counsels, his delicate, indulgent construction of--of--in short, tell him
my father is right, and that I shall be better and wiser all my life for
the few short weeks in which I have known Guy Darrell."
"What secrets are you two whispering there?" asked Mr. Vyvyan from his
easy-chair.
"Ask her ten years hence," said the Colonel, as he retreated to the door.
"The fairest leaves in the flower are the last that the bud will
disclose."
From Mr. Vyvyan the Colonel went to Lord -----'s. His lordship had also
heard from Darrell that morning; Darrell declined the invitation to ----
Hall; business at Fawley. Lady Adela had borne the disappointment with
her wonted serenity of temper, and had gone out shopping. Darrell had
certainly not offered his hand in that quarter; had he done so--whether
refused or accepted--all persons yet left in London would have heard the
news. Thence the Colonel repaired to Carr Vipont's. Lady Selina was at
home and exceedingly cross. Carr had been astonished by a letter from
Mr. Darrell, dated Fawley--left town for the season without even calling
to take leave--a most eccentric man. She feared his head was a little
touched--that he knew it, but did not like to own it--perhaps the doctors
had told him he must keep quiet, and not excite himself with politics.
"I had thought," said Lady Selina, "that he might have felt a growing
attachment for Honoria; and considering the disparity of years, and that
Honoria certainly might marry any one, he was too proud to incur the risk
of refusal. But I will tell you in confidence, as a relation and dear
friend, that Honoria has a very superior mind, and might have overlooked
the mere age: congenial tastes--you understand. But on thinking it all
over, I begin to doubt whether that be the true reason for his running
away in this wild sort of manner. My maid tells me that his house-
steward called to say that the establishment was to be broken up. That
looks as if he had resigned London for good; just, too, when, Carr says,
the CRISIS, so long put off, is sure to burst on us. I'm quite sick of
clever men--one never knows how to trust them; if they are not dishonest
they are eccentric! I have just been telling Honoria that clever men
are, after all, the most tiresome husbands. Well, what makes you so
silent? What do you say? Why don't you speak?"
"I am slowly recovering from my shock," said the Colonel. "So Darrell
shirks the CRISIS, and has not even hinted a preference for Honoria, the
very girl in all London that would have made him a safe, rational
companion. I told him so, and he never denied it. But it is a comfort
to think he is no loss. Old monster!"
"Nay," said Lady Selina, mollified by so much sympathy, "I don't say he
is no loss. Honestly speaking--between ourselves--I think he is a very
great loss. An alliance between him and Honoria would have united all
the Vipont influence. Lord Montfort has the greatest confidence in
Darrell; and if this CRISIS comes, it is absolutely necessary for the
Vipont interest that it should find somebody who can speak. Really, my
dear Colonel Morley, you, who have such an influence over this very odd
man, should exert it now. One must not be over-nice in times of CRISIS;
the country is at stake, Cousin Alban."
"I will do my best," said the Colonel; "I am quite aware that an alliance
which would secure Darrell's talents to the House of Vipont, and the
House of Vipont to Darrell's talents, would--but 'tis no use talking, we
must not sacrifice Honoria even on the altar of her country's interest!"
"Sacrifice! Nonsense! The man is not young certainly, but then what a
grand creature, and so clever."
"Clever--yes! But that was your very objection to him five minutes ago."
"I forgot the CRISIS.--One don't want clever men every day, but there are
days when one does want them!"
"I envy you that aphorism. But from what you now imply, I fear that
Honoria may have allowed her thoughts to settle upon what may never take
place; and if so, she may fret."
"Fret! a daughter of mine fret!--and of all my daughters, Honoria! A
girl of the best-disciplined mind! Fret! what a word!--vulgar!"
COLONEL MORLEY.--"So it is; I blush for it; but let us understand each
other. If Darrell proposed for Honoria, you think, ambition apart, she
would esteem him sufficiently for a decided preference."
LADY SELINA,--"If that be his doubt, re-assure him. He is shy-men of
genius are; Honoria would esteem him! Till he has actually proposed it
would compromise her to say more even to you."
COLONEL MORLEY.--"And if that be not the doubt, and if I ascertain that
Darrell has no idea of proposing, Honoria would--"
LADY SELINA.--"Despise him. Ah, I see by your countenance that you think
I should prepare her. Is it so, frankly?"
COLONEL MORLEY.--"Frankly, then. I think Guy Darrell, like many other
men, has been so long in making up his mind to marry again that he has
lost the right moment, and will never find it."
Lady Selina smells at her vinaigrette, and replies in her softest,
affectedest, civilest, and crushingest manner: "POOR--DEAR--OLD MAN!"