THE LODGING--YOUNG MELANCHOLY AND OLD REMEMBRANCES--AN ADVENTURE AMONG
THE YEW HEDGES OF MORLEY COURT.
"There is no more doubt--no more hope"--said O'Connor, as, wrapt in his
cloak, he slowly pursued his way homeward--"the worst _is_ true--she is
quite estranged from me--how deceived--how utterly blind I have
been--yet who could have thought it? Light-hearted, vain, worthless--it
is all, all true--my own eyes have seen it. Well, even this must be
borne--borne as best it may, and with a manly spirit. I have been,
indeed, miserably cheated"--he continued, with bitter vehemence--"and
what remains for me? I've been infatuated--a self-flattered fool, and
waken thus to find _all_ lost--but grief avails not--there lie before
me many paths of honourable toil, and many avenues to honourable
death--the ambition of my life is over--henceforth the world has
nothing to offer me. I will leave this, the country of my ill-fated
birth--leave it for ever, and end my days honourably, and God grant
soon, far away from the only one I ever loved--from her who has
betrayed me."
Such were the thoughts which darkly and vaguely hurried through
O'Connor's mind as he retraced his steps. Before he had arrived,
however, at the "Cock and Anchor," whitherward he had mechanically
directed his course, he bethought himself, and turned in a different
direction towards the house in which his worthy friend, Mr.
Audley--having an inveterate prejudice against all inns, which, without
exception, he averred to be the especial sanctuaries of damp sheets,
bugs, thieves, and rheumatic fevers--had already established himself as
a weekly lodger.
"Pooh, pooh! you foolish boy," ejaculated the old bachelor, with
considerable energy, in reply to O'Connor's gloomy and passionate
language; "nonsense, sir, and folly, and absurdity--you'll give me the
vapours if you go on this way--what the devil do you want of foreign
service and foreign graves--do you think, booby, it was for that I came
over here--tilly vally, tilly vally--I know as well as you, or any
other jackanapes, what love is. I tell you, sirrah, _I_ have been in
love, and _I_ have been jilted--_jilted_, sir! and when I _was_ jilted,
I thought the jilting itself quite enough, without improving the matter
by getting myself buried, dead or alive." Here the little gentleman
knocked the table recklessly with his knuckles, buried his hands in his
breeches pockets, and rising from his chair, paced the room with an
impressive tread. "Had you ever seen Letty Bodkin you might, indeed,
have known what love is"--he continued, breathing very hard--"Letty
Bodkin jilted me, and I got over it. I did not ask for razors, or
cannon balls, or foreign interment, sir; but I vented my indignation
like a man of business, in totting up the books, and running up a heavy
arrear in the office accounts--yes, sir, I did more good in the way of
arithmetic and book-keeping during that three weeks of love-sick agony,
than an ordinary man, without the stimulus, would do in a year"--there
was another pause here, and he resumed in a softened tone--"but Letty
Bodkin was no ordinary woman. Oh! you scoundrel, had you seen her,
you'd have been neither to hold nor to bind--there was nothing she
could not do--she embroidered a waistcoat for me--heigho! scarlet
geraniums and parsley sprigs--and she danced like--like a--a spring
board--she'd sail through a minuet like a duck in a pond, and hop and
bounce through 'Sir Roger de Coverley' like a hot chestnut on a
griddle;--and then she sang--oh, her singing!--I've heard turtle-doves
and thrushes, and, in fact, most kind of fowls of all sorts and sizes;
but no nightingale ever came up to her in 'The Captain endearing and
tall,' and 'The Shepherdess dying for love'--there never lived a
man"--continued he, with increasing vehemence--"I don't care when or
where, who could have stood, sate, or walked in her company for
half-an-hour, without making an old fool of himself--she was just my
age, perhaps a year or two more--I wonder whether she is much
changed--heigho!"
Having thus delivered himself, Mr. Audley lapsed into meditation, and
thence into a faint and rather painful attempt to vocalize his
remembrance of "The Captain endearing and tall," engaged in which
desperate operation of memory, O'Connor left the old gentleman, and
returned to his temporary abode to pass a sleepless night of vain
remembrances, regrets, and despair.
On the morning subsequent to the somewhat disorderly scene which we
have described as having occurred in the theatre, Mary Ashwoode, as
usual, sate silent and melancholy, in the dressing-room of her father,
Sir Richard. The baronet was not yet sufficiently recovered to venture
downstairs to breakfast, which in those days was a very early meal
indeed. After an unusually prolonged silence, the old man, turning
suddenly to his daughter, abruptly said, "Mary, you have now had some
days to study Lord Aspenly--how do you like him?"
The girl raised her eyes, not a little surprised at the question, and
doubtful whether she had heard it aright.
"I say," resumed he, "you ought to have been able by this time to
arrive at a fair judgment as to Lord Aspenly's merits--what do you
think of him--do you like him?"
"Indeed, father," replied she, "I have observed him very little--he may
be a very estimable man, but I have not seen enough of him to form any
opinion; and indeed, if I had, _my_ opinion must needs be a matter of
the merest indifference to him and everyone else."
"Your opinion upon this point," replied Sir Richard, tartly, "happens
_not_ to be a matter of indifference."
A considerable pause again ensued, during which Mary Ashwoode had ample
time to reflect upon the very unpleasant doubts which this brief
speech, and the tone in which it was uttered, were calculated to
inspire.
"Lord Aspenly's manners are very agreeable, _very_," continued Sir
Richard, meditatively--"I may say, indeed, fascinating--_very_--do you
think so?" he added sharply, turning towards his daughter.
This was rather a puzzling question. The girl had never thought about
him except as a frivolous old beau; yet it was plain she could not say
so without vexing her father; she therefore adopted the simplest
expedient under such perplexing circumstances, and preserved an
embarrassed silence.
"The fact is," said Sir Richard, raising himself a little, so as to
look full in his daughter's face, at the same time speaking slowly and
sternly, "the fact is, I had better be explicit on this subject. _I_ am
anxious that you should think well of Lord Aspenly; it is, in short, my
wish and pleasure that you should _like_ him; you understand me--you
had _better_ understand me." This was said with an emphasis not to be
mistaken, and another pause ensued. "For the present," continued he,
"run down and amuse yourself--and--stay--offer to show his lordship the
old terrace garden--do you mind? Now, once more, run away."
So saying, the old gentleman turned coolly from her, and rang his
hand-bell vehemently. Scarcely knowing what she did, such was her
astonishment at all that had passed, Mary Ashwoode left the room
without any very clear notion as to whither she was going, or what to
do; nor was her confusion much relieved when, on entering the hall, the
first object which encountered her was Lord Aspenly himself, with his
triangular hat under his arm, while he adjusted his deep lace
ruffles--he had never looked so ugly before. As he stood beneath her
while she descended the broad staircase, smiling from ear to ear, and
bowing with the most chivalric profundity, his skinny, lemon-coloured
face, and cold, glittering little eyes raised toward her--she thought
that it was impossible for the human shape so nearly to assume the
outward semblance of a squat, emaciated toad.
"Miss Ashwoode, as I live!" exclaimed the noble peer, with his most
gracious and fascinating smile. "On what mission of love and mercy does
she move? Shall I hope that her first act of pity may be exercised in
favour of the most devoted of her slaves? I have been looking in vain
for a guide through the intricacies of Sir Richard's yew hedges and
leaden statues; may I hope that my presiding angel has sent me one in
you?"
Lord Aspenly paused, and grinned wider and wider, but receiving no
answer, he resumed,--
"I understand, Miss Ashwoode, that the pleasure-grounds, which surround
us, abound in samples of your exquisite taste; as a votary of Flora,
may I ask, if the request be not too bold, that you will vouchsafe to
lead a bewildered pilgrim to the object of his search? There is--is
there not?--shrined in the centre of these rustic labyrinths, a small
flower-garden which owes its sweet existence to your creative genius;
if it be not too remote, and if you can afford so much leisure, allow
me to implore your guidance."
As he thus spoke, with a graceful flourish, the little gentleman
extended his hand, and courteously taking hers by the extreme points of
the fingers, he led her forward in a manner, as he thought, so engaging
as to put resistance out of the question. Mary Ashwoode felt far too
little interest in anything but the one ever-present grief which
weighed upon her heart, to deny the old fop his trifling request;
shrouding her graceful limbs, therefore, in a short cloak, and drawing
the hood over her head, she walked forth, with slow steps and an aching
heart, among the trim hedges which fenced the old-fashioned pleasure
walks.
"Beauty," exclaimed the nobleman, as he walked with an air of romantic
gallantry by her side, and glancing as he spoke at the flowers which
adorned the border of the path--"beauty is nowhere seen to greater
advantage than in spots like this; where nature has amassed whatever is
most beautiful in the inanimate creation, only to prove how unutterably
more exquisite are the charms of _living_ loveliness: these walks, but
this moment to me a wilderness, are now so many paths of magic
pleasure--how can I enough thank the kind enchantress to whom I owe the
transformation?" Here the little gentleman looked unutterable things,
and a silence of some minutes ensued, during which he effected some
dozen very wheezy sighs. Emboldened by Miss Ashwoode's silence, which
he interpreted as a very unequivocal proof of conscious tenderness, he
resolved to put an end to the skirmishing with which he had opened his
attack, and to commence the action in downright earnestness. "This
place breathes an atmosphere of romance; it is a spot consecrated to
the worship of love; it is--it is the shrine of passion, and I--_I_ am
a votary--a worshipper."
Miss Ashwoode paused in mingled surprise and displeasure, for his
vehemence had become so excessive as, in conjunction with his asthma,
to threaten to choke his lordship outright. When Mary Ashwoode stopped
short, Lord Aspenly took it for granted that the crisis had arrived,
and that the moment for the decisive onset was now come; he therefore
ejaculated with a rapturous croak,--
"And you--_you_ are my divinity!" and at the same moment he descended
stiffly upon his two knees, caught her hand in his, and began to mumble
it with unmistakable devotion.
"My lord--Lord Aspenly!--surely your lordship cannot mean--have done,
my lord," exclaimed the astonished girl, withdrawing her hand
indignantly from his grasp. "Rise, my lord; you cannot mean otherwise
than to mock me by such extravagance. My lord--my lord, you surprise
and shock me beyond expression."
"Angel of beauty! most exquisite--most perfect of your sex," gasped his
lordship, "I love you--yes, to distraction. Answer me, if you would not
have me expire at your feet--ugh--ugh--tell me that I may
hope--ugh--that I am not indifferent to you--ugh, ugh, ugh,--that--that
you can love me?" Here his lordship was seized with so violent a fit of
coughing, that Miss Ashwoode began to fear that he would expire at her
feet in downright earnest. During the paroxysm, in which, with one hand
pressed upon his side, he supported himself by leaning with the other
upon the ground, Mary had ample time to collect her thoughts, so that
when at length he had recovered his breath, she addressed him with
composure and decision.
"My lord," she said, "I am grateful for your preference of me;
although, when I consider the shortness of my acquaintance with you,
and how few have been your opportunities of knowing me, I cannot but
wonder very much at its vehemence. For me, your lordship cannot feel
more than an idle fancy, which will, no doubt, pass away just as
lightly as it came; and as for my feelings, I have only to say, that it
is wholly impossible for you ever to establish in them any interest of
the kind you look for. Indeed, indeed, my lord, I hope I have not given
you pain--nothing can be further from my wish than to do so; but it is
my duty to tell you plainly and at once my real feelings. I should
otherwise but trifle with your kindness, for which, although I cannot
return it as you desire, I shall ever be grateful."
Having thus spoken, she turned from her noble suitor, and began to
retrace her steps rapidly towards the house.
"Stay, Miss Ashwoode--remain here for a moment--you _must_ hear me!"
exclaimed Lord Aspenly, in a tone so altered, that she involuntarily
paused, while his lordship, with some difficulty, raised himself again
to his feet, and with a flushed and haggard face, in which still
lingered the ghastly phantom of his habitual smile, he hobbled to her
side. "Miss Ashwoode," he exclaimed, in a tone tremulous with emotions
very different from love, "I--I--I am not used to be treated
cavalierly--I--I will not brook it: I am not to be trifled
with--jilted--madam, jilted, and taken in. You have accepted and
encouraged my attentions--attentions which you cannot have mistaken;
and now, madam, when I make you an offer--such as your ambition, your
most presumptuous ambition, dared not have anticipated--the offer of my
hand--and--and a coronet, you coolly tell me you never cared for me.
Why, what on earth do you look for or expect?--a foreign prince or
potentate, an emperor, ha--ha--he--he--ugh--ugh--ugh! I tell you
plainly, Miss Ashwoode, that _my_ feelings _must_ be considered. I have
long made my passion known to you; it has been encouraged; and I have
obtained Sir Richard's--your father's--sanction and approval. You had
better reconsider what you have said. I shall give you an hour; at the
end of that time, unless you see the propriety of avowing feelings
which, you must pardon me when I say it, your encouragement of my
advances has long virtually acknowledged, I must lay the whole case,
including all the painful details of my own ill-usage, before Sir
Richard Ashwoode, and trust to his powers of persuasion to induce you
to act reasonably, and, I _will_ add, _honourably_."
Here his lordship took several extraordinarily copious pinches of
snuff, after which he bowed very low, conjured up an unusually hideous
smile, in which spite, fury, and triumph were eagerly mingled, and
hobbled away before the astonished girl had time to muster her spirits
sufficiently to answer him.