her opinion, as, generally speaking, I fancy in that of all other young
ladies in the same case, the most charming creature in the world. He was
followed by a second, and she found him as charming; but when a
succession of adorers appeared, she was completely perplexed. Her heart
was incapable of making an election, and she began to think it would be
very dull to fix upon one, and by that means lose the adulation and
flattery of all the others. She therefore received them all alike, and
divided her attention and her smiles equally amongst them. Thus the
innocent Amaranthé, who was unacquainted with the name of coquetry, soon
grew expert in the practice. On her first entrance into society she had
formed an intimate acquaintance with Ethelinde, the daughter of a family
distinguished for goodness and benevolence, and who lived in a handsome,
though not profuse style. Ethelinde had nothing of the dazzling beauty
of Amaranthé to boast of, her features were not so perfect, nor her
complexion so brilliant, but her countenance was enlightened by
intelligence, and her smiles were the smiles of modesty, and sweetness
of temper. She was always unstudied and unaffected, and in her person
and appearance were combined ease and elegance, with the irresistible
charm of the most engaging feminine softness. Her understanding was
excellent, and well cultivated, her manners correct, and her heart the
seat of virtue and purity. Perfectly free from any meanness of temper,
she felt no envy at the beauty of Amaranthé, but was, on the contrary,
an unfeigned admirer of it, and eagerly sought her friendship.
Amaranthé, who for some time felt gratified and obliged by Ethelinde's
early notice, was equally desirous of cultivating her's, but ere many
weeks had elapsed, they mutually discovered that they were not
companions for each other. Ethelinde grew weary of hearing no other
conversation than descriptions of the fine dresses her friend had worn
at the different entertainments she had been at, or repetitions of all
the nonsense that had been addressed to her there, and Amaranthé thought
her deplorably dull and disagreeable, for wanting to talk of any thing
else. Ethelinde was both too kind-hearted and too well-bred to appear to
shun Amaranthé, and Amaranthé, who felt quite secure of never finding a
rival in Ethelinde, continued to call her friend. She began, however, by
degrees to suspect that she had been a little mistaken in this
satisfactory point. It is true that whenever she appeared in public she
was immediately surrounded by all the gentlemen in the room, but she
could not avoid observing, that when Ethelinde was there also, many of
them would turn to her, and when once engaged in conversation with her,
never again quit her side, for that of her friend. This was sufficient
ground for her conceiving a rooted dislike to the unassuming and
unsuspicious Ethelinde.
An important addition was now made to the society into which Adrian and
Amaranthé had been introduced, by the arrival of a young gentleman
lately returned from travelling, to take possession of a large estate,
and noble mansion annexed to it, in that country. Lionel had every thing
that could recommend him to the favour of all to whom he was made known.
Handsome and elegant in his person, his mind was stored with
information, his taste refined, his conversation instructive and
entertaining, and his manners affable and polished. Every father openly
courted him as a companion and example to his son, and every mother
secretly wished him to become the husband of her daughter.
Lionel was charmed with the brother and sister on his first
introduction to them. He liked the frank cordiality of Adrian, and
became the professed slave of Amaranthé's beauty. It required no length
of time for penetration like Lionel's to discover his error in regard to
Adrian; he found he had mistaken vivacity for genius, and frankness of
manner for generosity of heart, when in fact his favourite proved
unformed and untaught, indifferent to the opinion of all whom he ought
to have valued, and given up to idleness and self-indulgence. Such a
companion was quitted without any effort of resolution, but the sister's
power over him did not yield so easily. Amaranthé's vanity had been too
much flattered by such a conquest, for her to endeavour to conceal the
satisfaction it afforded her, and the enamoured Lionel was willing to
attribute the approbation she evinced, to genuine affection. He
confessed himself disappointed in her mental qualities, but he laid all
that to the want of education, and the blame upon those who brought her
up. He delighted in the thought of instructing and cultivating her mind
himself, and dwelt with rapture on the prospect of possessing such a
creature, formed exactly to his own taste, and according to his own
rules of right. The devoted lover indulged himself, in these pleasing
expectations during several interviews that he had with his idol, when
not interrupted by the presence of any other candidates for her favour;
but when he saw her in company with some of her previous adorers, and
observed the evident pleasure and complacency with which she listened to
them all by turns, nothing could exceed his surprise and indignation.
What! had she no more regard for him than for any of these senseless
coxcombs? Were the smiles and attention that had so captivated him to be
equally shared by them? This was not to be borne. He could have endured
her ignorance, even a fool might be tolerated, but an unfeeling coquette
never could. From that moment Amaranthé, with all her beauty, was
dismissed from his heart for ever.
During his attendance on Amaranthé, Lionel had often remarked with
approbation the meek and unaffected demeanor of Claribel. He had never
indeed heard her converse much, but he judged that her silence was owing
to timidity, and fancied that under so retired a manner, might be
concealed solid sense, taste, and judgment. Her person, though not
strikingly handsome, was pleasing, and her temper and disposition
appeared to be perfectly amiable. He began therefore to pay her very
serious attention, but here again poor Lionel had only to lament his
mistake. He found Claribel quite as untutored as her cousins, without a
spark more desire of improvement. He was not likely to meet with a
repulse from so gentle a creature, but the acquiescence with which she
received his assiduities seemed more the result of habitual passiveness
than of reciprocal attachment. She betrayed no emotion of pleasure at
his approach, or of concern at his departure. She listened to his
conversation as he hoped with interest, but when describing what he
considered as requisite points to insure happiness and respectability,
he could perceive no symptoms of regret that their sentiments so little
corresponded, nor could his avowed opinions awaken in her any exertion
to render herself more acceptable to him. When he had taken sufficient
time to study her character, he decided that the inelegant mirth, and
ungoverned vanity of Amaranthé were preferable to the dawdling
insipidity of Claribel. After this decision Lionel ceased to be a
visitor at the castle.
The pride of Amaranthé had never before experienced so severe a wound.
Her consequence was lessened in her own eyes, and she felt that it would
be so in those of others, by the desertion of such a lover, for she had
sense enough to discern the superiority of Lionel over all her other
admirers. She could appreciate his worth, but she could not controul her
own too long indulged inclinations, and was still too artless to conceal
the wrong bias they had taken. The disappointment had a visible effect
upon her temper: she grew peevish, and dissatisfied with every thing
about her. She resolved to leave no means untried to regain the heart of
Lionel, and the suggestion of a rival in his affection made her
absolutely outrageous. She had so little considered Claribel in that
light, that she had not deigned to notice Lionel's attention to her,
which indeed her vanity whispered was merely a feint to pique herself,
and to give him an opportunity of still hovering near her. The gift of
the fairy, which had operated so much to Claribel's disadvantage in the
opinion of her lover, secured her from sharing the keen mortification of
her cousin at his loss.
Some time after this had happened, an invitation was sent to the
inhabitants of the castle to an entertainment, which was to consist of a
trial of skill in archery in the morning, and a ball in the evening.
Adrian, who was now wholly devoted to his ill-chosen companions, had
made some engagement he liked better with them, and would not go, and
Claribel was confined at home by indisposition. Amaranthé looked forward
with the most flattering anticipation to this proving the scene of her
triumph, and restoring all her power over Lionel, who she knew was to be
a principal guest there. She exhausted all her invention in contriving
the most becoming dresses for both occasions, and selected every
ornament that she thought would add lustre to her beauty. The anxiously
expected morning arrived, and Amaranthé set forth in all her glory. She
found a large company assembled in the part of the grounds marked out
for the archery, where a tent was erected ingeniously fitted up, and a
handsome collation prepared in it. The gentlemen who were to engage in
the contest were all properly equipped for the purpose. Amongst the most
conspicuous was Lionel, who with his bow in his hand and quiver on his
shoulder, was compared by some of the company to the god of love. In a
group of ladies opposite to her, Amaranthé discerned Ethelinde very
simply attired, but looking so elegant, so unaffectedly good humoured,
and desirous to please and be pleased, that no one could behold her
without being prepossessed in her favour. She accosted Amaranthé with
the utmost kindness, who very coldly accepted her proffered hand, for
she felt an inward acknowledgment of superiority that fretted her beyond
endurance. Nor could she at all account for it, having settled in her
own mind, quite to her satisfaction, that she had never seen any thing
half so ugly or so ill dressed.
The game began, and after each candidate for victory had exerted his
strength and skill, Lionel was unanimously proclaimed the conqueror. The
mistress of the feast had tastefully entwined a wreath of laurel, which
stepping forward she, with an appropriate and polite compliment, placed
upon the head of Lionel. Amaranthé's heart beat violently, for she felt
assured of receiving her accustomed homage, and had ready all her
sweetest smiles, and most engaging complaisance, as she saw Lionel
approach the spot where she was seated. She found, however, that she
might as well have reserved them for a fitter occasion, for he passed
her without notice, and with a graceful bow, and look that bespoke
respect and esteem, laid his trophy at the feet of Ethelinde. Amaranthé
had no strength of mind to command herself on such a trial, nor could
she conceal the disappointment and vexation it cost her, and was still
more insupportably irritated by the general murmur of approbation that
accompanied this action of Lionel. She refused to partake of the
refreshments, and went home burning with feelings of resentment against
him, and of most malignant animosity towards Ethelinde. Still her vanity
was not subdued: she determined that the ball, where she meant to appear
in a blaze of glittering ornaments, that she believed would render her
beauty irresistible, should repay her for all the mortifications of the
morning. She recounted the insult, as she thought fit to call it, that
had been offered to her, in terms of bitter wrath to Claribel, who
attended her toilet; but comforted herself with the near prospect of
recrimination, and declared she should have far more pleasure in
crushing the pride of that insolent little ugly moppet Ethelinde, than
in captivating the first lord in the land. Claribel listened with
patience and pity to the detail of her lamentable misfortunes, and
disclosure of her amiable intentions, and at last ventured to say--"But,
my dear cousin, are you not afraid of incurring the displeasure of the
fairy, by falling into the errors she cautioned you against? You may
remember she threatened to withdraw her favour if you were guilty of
jealousy and envy, and do you know, I do not think you look near so well
as you used to do."
To this remark Amaranthé for some moments answered only by surveying
her cousin with a look of ineffable scorn, at last, her lips quivering
with anger, she said--"Really, my dainty Claribel, whatever the fairy
may do by me, I am afraid her precious gift to you has failed in its
effect. I thought _you_, at any rate, were to be secured from the
dominion of envy and spite." "Upon my word, cousin," answered Claribel
mildly, "I am unconscious of ever having been subject to either. Since
the fairy first appeared to us, I never felt less disposed to envy her
favours to you than at this moment, and what can there be spiteful in
thinking you do not look so well as you used to do?"
Ursula, who was present, assented to the opinion of Claribel. "Indeed,
my sweet young lady," said she, "your cousin is right. I have lately
observed, with pain and apprehension, your altered looks. I believe the
racketing life you have led so long disagrees with you, and am seriously
fearful that you will injure your health if you continue it."
It was in vain to urge any arguments against the self-conceit of
Amaranthé: that her beauty could be in any degree diminished was a
supposition that she would not admit into her thoughts. She added more
ornaments to the profusion that already glittered on her person, and
doubted not that, with such aids, she should eclipse every belle who
would appear at the entertainment. Under this happy persuasion she
entered the ball-room, but did not long remain under its cheering
influence. No emotion seemed excited by her appearance, no gaze followed
her footsteps; those of her former admirers, whom she saw there, rather
shunned than approached her, and those who were strangers did not appear
to notice her. After she had been seated some little time however, she
was in joyful expectation of having her best wishes fulfilled, for she
saw Lionel advancing, who, on coming opposite to her, stopped short, and
fixed his eyes intently upon her.
Much as her heart fluttered, and her cheeks glowed at this almost
unhoped for circumstance, she could not avoid discovering that his looks
betrayed more of astonishment than of admiration. Suddenly seeming to
recollect himself he slightly bowed, and passing on went up to
Ethelinde, whom he immediately engaged for his partner. Fortunately for
Amaranthé the bustle and confusion of the dance just then beginning,
screened her from the observations that her violent agitation must
otherwise have drawn upon her. The dance indeed began, but no one
solicited the honour of her fair hand. Amazed, appalled, she knew not
what to make of it, at length, rising up, she drew near a party who were
in earnest conversation, and did not perceive her. "Is it possible," she
heard one of them say, "that that ordinary awkward looking girl, so
bedizened with finery, should be the beautiful Amaranthé, of whom I have
heard so much, and who my chief purpose in coming hither was to see?"
"Believe me," answered another, "what I tell you is true. What has
happened to her I cannot conjecture, but I do assure you that not many
weeks ago she was the most beautiful creature my eyes ever beheld."
"Oh, oh," said Amaranthé to herself, "now I discern the truth. This
is a vile conspiracy amongst my enemies. Some of my wicked rivals,
unable to submit to my superior attractions, have planned this scheme on
purpose to mortify me, but they shall find themselves defeated in their
atrocious designs." She then reared up her head, and stalked along the
room with all the stately airs she could assume, but all in vain. Few of
the company noticed her at all, and to those who did, she was evidently
an object of ridicule. She had not command enough over herself to endure
this long with patience. Abruptly quitting the assembly, she returned
home in a state of mind and temper that threatened her with insanity.
When arrived there she tore off all her gaudy apparel without once
looking in the glass, and threw herself into bed, where for some hours
she lay tumbling and tossing, but at last fell into a doze, from which
she did not awake until mid-day. As soon as she arose she summoned
Claribel, that she might give vent to her fury at the detestable events
of the evening. Claribel heard the relation of her disgrace with
unfeigned concern, but all the time she was speaking looked earnestly at
her with marks of excessive surprise. After some hesitation, she,
trembling as she spoke, said, "Pray, cousin, have you lately looked at
your hyacinth?" The question operated like an electric shock upon
Amaranthé. The truth flashed across her mind. She considered a moment,
and then rushed to the cabinet where Felicia's pernicious gift was
deposited. There indeed she found it with its "bright tint turned to a
sickly and disgusting hue." She contemplated it with an aspect of wild
despair, then with an effort of desperate resolution flew back to the
glass, where, for the first time for many months, she looked at herself
with eyes not blinded by vanity. What a spectacle presented itself to
her view! Gladly would she have found herself only reduced to her
original plainness. Her eyes then, though they sparkled not with the
lustre with which the fairy afterwards endowed them, were yet brightened
by the vivacity of youth. The texture of her skin was not so delicate,
but her cheeks glowed with ruddy health, and though no fascinating
dimples accompanied her smiles, they were the playful smiles of
innocence. Now, sad reverse! her eyes were dimmed and sunk in her head,
her cheeks hollow and of ghastly paleness, and the malevolent passions
that had corroded her heart, were traced in deep furrows over her
countenance. Almost frozen with horror she uttered a piercing shriek,
and fell lifeless on the floor. Claribel affrighted, endeavoured to
raise her, and called for assistance, but no one came near her. She
thought she heard an unusual disturbance in the castle. Sounds of
strange voices speaking loud, trampling of feet, and clapping of doors
met her ear, and appeared as if a general uproar prevailed throughout.
After she had for some time tried in vain to recover Amaranthé, Ursula
hastily entered the apartment, her face pale with terror and dismay,
which were increased by seeing the alarming state of her young mistress.
Claribel, while she assisted in restoring her, briefly related what had
happened, and the poor governess, on hearing it, broke out into bitter
lamentations. "Ah! wicked, treacherous fairy," said she, "how have you
abused my poor innocent children! would that you had never appeared with
your vile gifts, only to betray them to their ruin, and plunge them into
a thousand times greater misery than they could have experienced had
they never seen you."
Claribel earnestly enquired her meaning, and the cause of the
confusion she had heard, and with difficulty, amidst her sobs and moans,
gathered what Ursula had herself learned from Gabriel. The creditors of
Adrian, hearing of the extravagant style in which he lived, concluded he
must soon expend his fortune, and that they should then have no chance
of receiving what was due to them. They, therefore, determined to come
in a body, and insist upon immediate payment. Adrian, though extremely
enraged, resolved, in spite of the opposition of his associates, to
satisfy all their demands at once that he might be rid of them. He
accordingly repaired to the coffers where his treasures were secured,
but on opening found them all empty. He exclaimed loudly that he had
been basely robbed; then flew to every chest, desk, or bureau in which
he had been used to seek a supply, but found not a single piece of
money, or article of value of any kind: while searching the last place
of safety he could think of, he was suddenly struck with the sight of
his rose, which had fallen from the stalk, and every leaf withered and
dead: frantic with despair, he rushed all over the castle proclaiming
himself ruined, but hardly sensible of what he said or did. On hearing
this, the profligate crew, who had called themselves his friends,
speedily made off, nor would stay even to offer him consolation. The
creditors incensed at being thus defrauded of their right, thought it
best to make themselves what amends they could, and began tearing away
all the costly furniture, and seizing upon every thing valuable they
could find. The servants too, thinking they should have no other method
of being paid, had joined in the general plunder, and were all taking
their departure as soon as they could secure what they had pillaged.
Amaranthé revived before Ursula had finished her dismal narrative, but
she attended not to it, nor seemed conscious of any thing that passed.
Claribel and Ursula continued administering restoratives to her, when
the door opened, and the form of Adrian, but far more resembling that of
a spectre, slowly entered. He placed himself on a seat, and fixed his
haggard eyes upon his sister. She raised her's to him, but no sound gave
utterance to the feelings their looks mutually expressed. It was not the
mild grief that could be soothed by sympathy; it was the gloomy anguish
of remorse, the humiliating sense of unworthiness, the incurable torture
of shame. Claribel and Ursula looked at them in speechless sorrow, for
no ray of comfort presented itself to alleviate their sufferings.
Thus were these unfortunate young people, by the indulgence of their
own wishes, and the attainment of what they supposed could produce only
gratification and happiness, reduced to a state of apparently
irremediable distress. Even Claribel shared in the general misery. Not
that the gift of the fairy had lost its influence upon her; the lily was
fresh as ever. She was contented in her own person, and formed no wishes
for herself; but she could not behold the wretched condition of her
friends unmoved. Though not subject to strong emotions, her heart was
tender and affectionate. Her cousins were her sole objects of
attachment, and it was still unabated towards them. Ursula could do
nothing but bewail their sad destiny; she was weak and helpless. Gabriel
was the only rational person of the party. He collected together the
little that remained out of the wreck of the possessions, and tried to
put things in some order to make them more comfortable. The generous old
man never reminded them of the advice he had given, or took to himself
the credit that was his due for his better judgment.
Claribel had used all the arguments she could devise to reconcile
Amaranthé to her altered state, but with little success. One remarkably
fine day she prevailed upon her to go out into the air: they walked to a
part of the grounds that had in their childhood been appropriated as
their play place. Here, while resting on a bench, they were joined by
Adrian. The brother and sister now found words to relieve the weight of
woe that oppressed them, but it was by heaping invectives on the
deceitful Felicia. From accusing the fairy they began to upbraid each
other. "You, Amaranthé," said Adrian, "have no right to complain: you
might at least have been spared the misfortune of poverty. Had it not
been for your abominable vanity and coquetry, you might have been
happily and nobly settled."
"You are unjust to say so, Adrian," retorted his sister; "you know very
well it was your refusing to bestow a fortune upon me, that prevented
many of my lovers from soliciting my hand in marriage; but you were
given up to selfishness, and cared not what became of me."
"For pity's sake, my dear cousins," cried Claribel, "do not quarrel.
Remember, destitute orphans as we are, we have nothing left in this
world but each other, and if we are not united, what is to become of
us?"