"A crimson blush her beauteous face o'erspread,
Varying her cheeks by turns with white and red;
The driving colors, never at a stay,
Run here and there, and flush and fade away;
Delightful change! thus Indian ivory shows,
With which the bordering paint of purple glows,
Or lilies damasked by the neighboring rose."--DRYDEN.
The wished-for night at length arrived, and Amanda arrayed herself for
it with a fluttering heart. The reflection of her mirror did not depress
her spirits; hope had increased the brilliancy of her eyes, and given an
additional glow to her complexion. Ellen, who delighted in the charms of
her dear young lady, declared many of the Irish ladies would have
reason to envy her that night; and Fitzalan when he entered the parlor
was struck with her surpassing loveliness. He gazed on her with a
rapture that brought tears into his eyes, and felt a secret pride at the
idea of the marchioness beholding this sweet descendant of her neglected
sister--
"Into such beauty spread and blown so fair,
Though poverty's cold wind, and crushing rain,
Beat keen and heavy on her tender years."
"No," said he to himself, "the titled Euphrasia, if she equals, cannot
at least surpass my Amanda--meekness and innocence dwell upon the brow
of my child; but the haughty marchioness will teach pride to lower upon
Lady Euphrasia."
Amanda, on reaching Grangeville, found the avenue full of carriages. The
lights dispersed through the house gave it quite the appearance of an
illumination. It seemed, indeed, the mansion of gayety and splendor. Her
knees trembled as she ascended the stairs. She wished for time to
compose herself, but the door opened, her name was announced, and Mrs.
Kilcorban came forward to receive her. The room, though spacious, was
extremely crowded. It was decorated in a fanciful manner with festoons
of flowers, intermingled with variegated lamps. Immediately over the
entrance was the orchestra, and opposite to it sat the marchioness and
her party. The heart of Amanda beat, if possible, with increased
quickness on the approach of Mrs. Kilcorban, and her voice was lost in
her emotions. Recollecting, however, that the scrutinizing eyes of Lord
Mortimer, and her imperious relations, were now on her, she almost
immediately recovered composure, and with her usual elegance walked up
the room. Most of the company were strangers to her, and she heard a
general buzz of "Who is she?" accompanied with expressions of admiration
from the gentlemen, among whom were the officers of a garrison town near
Grangeville. Confused by the notice she attracted, she hastened to the
first seat she found vacant, which was near the marchioness.
Universal, indeed, was the admiration she had excited among the male
part of the company, by her beauty, unaffected graces, and simplicity of
dress.
She wore a robe of plain white lutestring, and a crape turban,
ornamented with a plume of drooping feathers. She had no appearance of
finery, except a chain of pearls about her bosom, from which hung her
mother's picture, and a light wreath of embroidered laurel, intermingled
with silver blossoms, round her petticoat. Her hair, in its own native
and glossy hue, floated on her shoulders, and partly shaded a cheek
where the purity of the lily was tinted with the softest bloom of the
rose. On gaining a seat, her confusion subsided. She looked up, and the
first eyes she met were those of Lord Mortimer (who leaned on Lady
Euphrasia Sutherland's chair), fastened on her face with a scrutinizing
earnestness, as if he wished to penetrate the recesses of her heart, and
discover whether he yet retained a place in it. She blushed, and looking
from him, perceived she was an object of critical attention to the
marchioness and Lady Euphrasia. There was a malignant expression in
their countenances, which absolutely shocked her; and she felt a
sensation of horror at beholding the former, who had so largely
contributed to the sorrows of her mother. "Can it be possible," said
Lady Euphrasia, replying to a young and elegant officer who stood by
her, in a tone of affectation, and with an impertinent sneer, "that you
think her handsome?" "Handsome," exclaimed he with warmth, as if
involuntarily repeating her ladyship's word, "I think her bewitchingly
irresistible. They told me I was coming to the land of saints; but,"
glancing his sparkling eyes around, and fixing them on Amanda; "I find
it is the land of goddesses."
The marchioness haughtily frowned--Lady Euphrasia smiled satirically,
tossed her head, and played with her fan. The propensities to envy and
ill-nature, which the marchioness had shown in her youth, were not less
visible in age. As they were then excited on her own account, so were
they now on her daughter's. To engross praise and admiration for her,
she wished beauty blasted, and merit extirpated; nor did she ever fail,
when in her power, to depreciate one, and cast an invidious cloud of
calumny over the other. She beheld Amanda with envy and hatred.
Notwithstanding her partiality to her daughter, she could not avoid
seeing her vast inferiority, in point of personal charms, to her young
relation. True, Lady Euphrasia possessed a fortune, which would always
insure her attention; but it was that unimpassioned and studied
attention selfishness dictates, the mere tribute of flattery. How
different from the spontaneous attention which Amanda excited, who,
though portionless and untitled, was beheld with admiration, followed
with praise, and courted with assiduity!
Lady Euphrasia's mind was the counterpart of her mother's; but in figure
she resembled her father. Her stature was low, her features contracted,
and though of the same age as Amanda, their harsh expression made her
appear much older. Though blessed with the abundant gifts of fortune,
she was unhappy, if, from any one's manner, she conceived that they
thought nature had not been quite so liberal to her. In the domestic
circle, constant flattery kept her in good-humor; but when out, she was
frequently chagrined at seeing women, infinitely below her in rank and
fortune, more noticed than herself.
At the ball she supposed she should have appeared as little less, at
least, than a demi-goddess. Art and fashion were exhausted in adorning
her, and she entered the room with all the insolence of conscious rank
and affectation of beauty. As she walked she appeared scarcely able to
support her delicate frame, and her languishing eyes were half closed.
She could, however, see there was a number of pretty women present, and
felt disconcerted. The respect, however, which she was paid, a little
revived her; and having contrived to detain Lord Mortimer by her chair
and Sir Charles Bingley, the young officer already mentioned, who was
colonel of a regiment quartered in an adjacent town, she soon felt her
spirits uncommonly exhilarated by the attentions of two of the most
elegant men in the room; and like a proud sultana in the midst of her
slaves, was enjoying the compliments she extorted from them by her
prefatory speeches, when the door opened, and Amanda, like an angel of
light, appeared to dissolve the mists of vanity and self-importance.
Lord Mortimer was silent, but his speaking eyes confessed his feelings.
Sir Charles Bingley, who had no secret motive to conceal his, openly
avowed his admiration, to which Lady Euphrasia replied as has been
already mentioned.
All the rapture Sir Charles expressed Lord Mortimer felt. His soul
seemed on the wing to fly to Amanda--to utter its feelings--to discover
hers and chide her for her conduct. This first emotion of tenderness,
however, quickly subsided, on recollecting what that conduct had
been--how cruelly, how ungratefully she had used him. Fled in the very
moment of hope and expectation, leaving him a prey to distrust, anxiety,
and regret, he dreaded some fatal mystery--some improper attachment
(experience had rendered him suspicious), which neither she nor her
father could avow; for never did he imagine that the scrupulous delicacy
of Fitzalan alone had effected their separation. He still adored Amanda;
he neither could nor desired to drive her from his thoughts, except well
assured she was unworthy of being harbored in them, and felt unutterable
impatience to have her mysterious conduct explained. From Tudor Hall he
had repaired to London, restless and unhappy. Soon after his arrival
there, the marquis proposed his accompanying him to Ireland. This he
declined, having reason to think Lord Cherbury meditated an alliance for
him with his family. The earl expressed regret at his refusal. He said
he wished he would join the marquis's party, as he wanted his opinion
relative to the state of Castle Carberry, where a man of integrity then
resided, who would have any alterations or repairs he might think
necessary executed in the most eligible manner. He mentioned the name of
Fitzalan. Lord Mortimer was surprised and agitated. He concealed his
emotions, however, and with apparent carelessness, asked a few questions
about him, and found that he was indeed the father of Amanda. She was
not mentioned, nor did he dare to inquire concerning her; but he
immediately declared that since his father wished it so much, he would
accompany the marquis. This was extremely pleasing to that nobleman, and
he and Lord Cherbury had in reality agreed upon a union between him and
Lady Euphrasia, and meant soon openly to avow their intention. Lord
Mortimer suspected, and Lady Euphrasia was already apprised of it; and
from vanity, was pleased at the idea of being connected with a man so
universally admired. Love was out of the question, for she had not
sufficient sensibility to experience it.
He, cautious of creating hopes which he never meant to realize, treated
her only with the attention which common politeness demanded, and on
every occasion seemed to prefer the marchioness's conversation to hers,
intending by this conduct to crush the projected scheme in embryo, and
spare himself the mortification of openly rejecting it. Had his heart
even been disengaged, Lady Euphrasia could never have been his choice.
If Amanda in reality proved as amiable as he had once reason to believe
her, he considered himself bound, by every tie of honor as well as love,
to fulfil the engagement he had entered into with her. He resolved,
however, to resist every plea of tenderness in her favor, except he was
thoroughly convinced she still deserved it. He went to Castle Carberry
purposely to make a display of indifference, and prevent any ideas being
entertained of his having followed her to Ireland. He deemed himself
justifiable in touching her sensibility (if, indeed, she possessed any
for him) by an appearance of coldness and inattention; but determined,
after a little retaliation of this kind on her, for the pain she had
made him endure, to come to an explanation, and be guided by its result
relative to his conduct in future to her.
The character of a perfect stranger was the one he was to support
throughout the evening; but her loveliness, and the gallantry of Sir
Charles Bingley, tempted him a thousand times to break through the
restraint he had imposed on himself.
The marchioness and Lady Euphrasia were not the only persons displeased
by the charms of Amanda. The Miss Kilcorbans saw, with evident
mortification, the admiration she excited, which they had flattered
themselves with chiefly engrossing; their disappointment was doubly
severe, after the pain, trouble, and expense they had undergone in
ornamenting their persons; after the suggestions of their vanity, and
the flattering encomiums of their mamma, who presided herself at their
toilet, every moment exclaiming, "Well, well, heaven help the men
to-night, girls!"
They fluttered across the room to Amanda, sweeping at least two yards of
painted tiffany after them; assured her they were extremely glad to see
her, but were afraid she was unwell, as she never looked so ill. Amanda
assured them she was conscious of no indisposition, and the harmony of
her features remained undisturbed. Miss Kilcorban, in a half whisper,
declared the marchioness had never smiled since she had entered the
room, and feared her mamma had committed a great mistake in inviting
them together. The rudeness of this speech shocked Amanda. An indignant
swell heaved her bosom, and she was about replying to it as it deserved,
when Miss Alicia stopped her by protesting she believed Lord Mortimer
dying for Lady Euphrasia. Amanda involuntarily raised her eyes at this
speech; but, instead of Lord Mortimer, beheld Sir Charles Bingley, who
was standing behind the young ladies. "Am I pardonable," cried he,
smiling, "for disturbing so charming a trio? but a soldier is taught
never to neglect a good opportunity: and one so propitious as the
present for the wish of my heart might not again offer." The Miss
Kilcorbans bridled up at this speech; plied their fans and smiled most
graciously on him, certainly concluding he meant to engage one or other
for the first set. Passing gently between them, he bowed gracefully to
Amanda, and requested the honor of her hand. She gave an assenting
smile, and he seated himself beside her till the dancing commenced. The
sisters cast a malignant glance over them, and swam off with a
contemptuous indifference.
Lady Euphrasia had expected Sir Charles and Lord Mortimer would have
been competitors for her hand, and was infinitely provoked by the
desertion of the former to her lovely cousin. He was a fashionable and
animated young man, whom she had often honored with her notice in
England, and wished to enlist in the train of her supposed adorers. Lord
Mortimer could scarcely restore her good-humor by engaging her. Almost
immediately after him, young Kilcorban advanced for the same purpose,
and Lord Mortimer sincerely regretted he had been beforehand with him.
The little fop was quite chagrined at finding her ladyship engaged; but
entreated the next set he might have the supreme honor and ecstatic
felicity of her hand. This, with the most impertinent affectation, she
promised, if able to endure the fatigue of another dance.
Amanda was next couple to Lady Euphrasia, and endeavored therefore to
calm her spirits, which the rudeness of Miss Kilcorban had discomposed,
and attend to the lively conversation of Sir Charles, who was extremely
pleasing and entertaining. Lord Mortimer watched them with jealous
attention. His wandering glances were soon noticed by Lady Euphrasia,
and her frowns and sarcastic speeches evinced her displeasure at them.
He tried to recollect himself, and act as politeness required. She, not
satisfied with fixing his attention, endeavored to attract Sir
Charles's. She spoke to him across Amanda; but all her efforts were here
ineffectual. He spoke and laughed with her ladyship, but his eyes could
not be withdrawn from the angelic countenance of his partner. Amanda's
hand trembled as, in turning, she presented it to Lord Mortimer; but,
though he extended his, he did not touch it. There was a slight in this
which pierced Amanda's heart. She sighed, unconscious of doing so
herself. Not so Sir Charles. He asked her, smiling, to where, or whom,
that sigh was wafted. This made Amanda recall her wandering thoughts.
She assumed an air of sprightliness, and went down the dance with much
animation. When finished, Sir Charles led her to a seat near the one
Lady Euphrasia and Lord Mortimer occupied. She saw the eyes of his
lordship often directed towards her, and her heart fluttered at the
pleasing probability of being asked to dance by him. Sir Charles
regretted that the old-fashioned custom of not changing partners was
over, and declared he could not leave her till she had promised him her
hand for the third set. This she could not refuse, and he left her with
reluctance, as the gentlemen were again standing up, to seek a partner.
At the same moment Lord Mortimer quitted Lady Euphrasia. Oh! how the
bosom of Amanda throbbed when she saw him approach and look at her. He
paused. A faintishness came over her. He cast another glance on her, and
passed on. Her eye followed him, and she saw him take out Miss
Kilcorban. This, indeed, was a disappointment. Propriety, she thought,
demanded his dancing the first set with Lady Euphrasia, but, if not
totally indifferent, surely he would not have neglected engaging her for
the second. "Yes," said she to herself, "he has totally forgotten me.
Lady Euphrasia is now the object, and he only pays attention to those
who can contribute to her amusement." Several gentlemen endeavored to
prevail on her to dance, but she pleaded fatigue, and sat solitary on a
window, apparently regarding the gay assembly, but in reality too much
engrossed by painful thoughts to do so. The woods, silvered by the beams
of the moon, recalled the venerable shades of Tudor Hall to memory,
where she had so often rambled by the same pale beams, and heard vows of
unchangeable regard--vows registered in her heart, yet now without the
hope of having them fulfilled. The dancing over, the company repaired to
another room for refreshments. Amanda, absorbed in thought, heeded not
their almost total desertion, till young Kilcorban, capering up to her,
declared she looked as lonesome as a hermit in his cell, and, laughing
in her face, turned off with a careless impertinence. He had not noticed
her before that night. He was indeed one of those little fluttering
insects who bask in the rays of fortune, and court alone her favorites.
Elated by an acquaintance with the marchioness and Lady Euphrasia, he
particularly neglected Amanda, not only from deeming them more worthy of
his attention, but from perceiving he could take no steps more certain
of gaining their favor. His words made Amanda sensible of the
singularity of her situation. She arose immediately, and went to the
other room. Every seat was already occupied. Near the door sat Lady
Euphrasia and the Miss Kilcorbans. Lord Mortimer leaned on the back of
her ladyship's chair, and young Kilcorban occupied one by her side,
which he never attempted offering to Amanda. She stood, therefore, most
unpleasantly by the door, and was exceedingly confused at hearing a
great many, in a whispering way, remarking the strangeness of her not
being noticed by so near a relation as the Marchioness of Roslin. A
general titter at her situation prevailed among Lady Euphrasia's party,
Lord Mortimer excepted. "Upon my word," said young Kilcorban, looking at
Amanda, "some ladies study attitudes which would be as well let alone."
"For the study of propriety," replied her ladyship, who appeared to have
unbended from her haughtiness, "she would do admirably for the figure of
Hope." "If she had but an anchor to recline on," rejoined he. "Yes,"
answered her ladyship, "with her floating locks and die-away glances."
"Or else, Patience on a monument," cried he. "Only she has no grief to
smile at," returned Lady Euphrasia. "Pardon me there," said he; "she has
the grief--not, indeed, that I believe she would smile at it--of being
totally eclipsed by your ladyship." "Or, what do you think," cried Lord
Mortimer, whose eyes sparkled with indignation during this dialogue, "of
likening her to Wisdom, pitying the follies of human kind, and smiling
to see the shafts of malice recoiling from the bosom of innocence and
modesty, with contempt, on those who levelled them at it?"
Amanda heard not these words, which were delivered in rather a low
voice. Her heart swelled with indignation at the impertinence directed
to her, and she would have quitted the room but that the passage was too
much crowded for her to pass. Sir Charles Bingley, occupied in attending
the young lady with whom he had danced, observed not Amanda till the
moment. He instantly flew to her. "Alone--and standing!" said he; "why
did I not see you before?--you look fatigued." She was pale with
emotion. "Kilcorban," continued he, "I must suppose you did not see Miss
Fitzalan, or your seat would not have been kept." Then catching him by
the arm, he raised him nimbly from his chair, and directly carried it to
Amanda; and having procured her refreshments, seated himself at her
feet, exclaiming, "this is my throne, let kings come bow to it." Her
lovely and unaffected graces had excited Sir Charles's admiration; but
it was the neglect with which he saw her treated, diffused such a
soothing tenderness through his manner as he now displayed. It hurt his
sensibility, and had she even been plain in her appearance, would have
rendered her the peculiar object of his attention. He detested the
marchioness and her daughter for their rancorous envy, as much as he
despised the Kilcorbans for their mean insolence. The marchioness told
him a long tale of the shocking conduct of Amanda's parents, whose ill
qualities she declared her looks announced her to possess, and
endeavored to depreciate her in his favor; but that was impossible.
"Lord!" said Lady Euphrasia, rising as she spoke, "let me pass; this
scene is sickening." Lord Mortimer remained behind her. He loitered
about the room, and his looks were often directed towards Amanda. Her
hopes began to revive. The lustre rekindled in her eyes, and a soft
blush again stole over her cheek. Though engaged to Sir Charles, she
felt she should be pleased to have Lord Mortimer make an overture for
her hand. The company were now returning to the ball-room, and Sir
Charles took her hand to lead her after them. At that moment Lord
Mortimer approached. Amanda paused as if to adjust some part of her
dress. He passed on to a very beautiful girl, whom he immediately
engaged, and led from the room. She followed them with her eyes, and
continued without moving, till the fervent pressure Sir Charles gave her
hand, restored her to recollection.
When the set with him was finished, she would have left the house
directly, had her servant been there; but after putting up the horses,
he had returned to Castle Carberry, and she did not expect him till a
very late hour. She declared her resolution of dancing no more, and Sir
Charles having avowed the same, they repaired to the card-room, as the
least crowded place they could find. Lady Greystock was playing at the
table, with the marquis and marchioness. She beckoned Amanda to her, and
having had no opportunity of speaking before, expressed her pleasure at
then seeing her. The marquis examined her through his spectacles. The
marchioness frowned, and declared, "she would take care in future, to
avoid parties subject to such disagreeable intruders." This speech was
too pointed not to be remarked. Amanda wished to appear undisturbed, but
her emotions grew too powerful to be suppressed, and she was obliged to
move hastily from the table. Sir Charles followed her. "Cursed
malignity," cried he, endeavoring to screen her from observation, while
tears trickled down her cheeks; "but, my dear Miss Fitzalan, was your
beauty and merit less conspicuous, you would have escaped it; 'tis the
vice of little minds to hate that excellence they cannot reach." "It is
cruel, it is shocking," said Amanda, "to suffer enmity to outlive the
object who excited it, and to hate the offspring on account of the
parent--the original of this picture," and she looked at her mother's,
"merited not such conduct." Sir Charles gazed on it;--it was wet with
the tears of Amanda. He wiped them off, and pressing the handkerchief to
his lips, put it in his bosom.
At this instant Lord Mortimer appeared. He had, indeed, been for some
time an unnoticed observer of the progress of this _tete-à-tete_. As
soon as he perceived he had attracted their regard, he quitted the room.
"His lordship is like a troubled spirit to-night, wandering to and fro,"
said Sir Charles; "I really believe everything is not right between him
and Lady Euphrasia." "Something, then," cried Amanda, "is in agitation
between him and her ladyship?" "So says the world," replied Sir Charles,
"but I do not always give implicit credit to its reports. I have known
Lord Mortimer this long time; and from my knowledge of him, should never
have supposed Lady Euphrasia Sutherland a woman capable of pleasing him;
nay, to give my real opinion, I think him quite uninterested about her
ladyship. I will not say so much as to all the other females present. I
really imagined several times to-night, from his glances to you, he was
on the point of requesting an introduction, which would not have pleased
me perfectly. Mortimer possesses more graces than those which merely
meet the eye, and is a rival I should by no means like to have."
Amanda, confused by this discourse, endeavored to change it, and at last
succeeded. They conversed pleasantly together on different subjects,
till they went to supper, when Sir Charles still continued his
attention. Lord Mortimer was, or at least appeared to be, entirely
engrossed with Lady Euphrasia, who from time to time tittered with the
Miss Kilcorbans, and looked satirically at Amanda. On quitting the
supper-room, she found her servant in the hall, and immediately desired
him to have the carriage drawn up. Sir Charles, who held her hand,
requested her to stay a little longer, yet acknowledged it was self
alone which dictated the request, as he knew she would not promote her
own pleasure by complying with it. As he handed her into the carriage,
he told her he should soon follow her example in retiring, as the scene,
so lately delightful, in losing her, would lose all its charms. He
entreated, and obtained permission, to wait on her the next morning.
How different was now the appearance of Amanda, to what it had been at
her departure from Castle Carberry! Pale, trembling, and languid, her
father received her into his arms--for, till she returned, he could not
think of going to rest--and instantly guessed the cause of her
dejection. His heart mourned for the pangs inflicted on his child's.
When she beheld him gazing on her with mingled woe and tenderness, she
tried to recruit her spirits; and after relating a few particulars of
the ball, answered the minute inquiries he made relative to the conduct
of the marchioness and Lady Euphrasia. He appeared unutterably affected
on hearing it. "Merciful power," exclaimed he, "what dispositions! But
you are too lovely, too like your mother, my Amanda, in every
perfection, to escape their malice. Oh! may it never injure you as it
did her. May that Providence, whose protection I daily implore for the
sweet child of my love, the source of earthly comfort, render every
wish, every scheme which may be formed against her, abortive; and oh!
may it yet bless me with the sight of her happiness."
Amanda retired to her chamber, inexpressibly affected by the language of
her father. "Yes," cried she, her heart swelling with pity and gratitude
to him, "my sorrow in future shall be concealed, to avoid exciting his.
The pain inflicted by thy inconstancy, Mortimer, shall be hid within the
recesses of my heart, and never shall the peace of my father be
disturbed by knowing the loss of mine."
The gray dawn was now beginning to advance, but Amanda had no
inclination for repose. As she stood at the window, she heard the solemn
stillness of the scene frequently interrupted by the distant noise of
carriages, carrying home the weary sons and daughters of dissipation.
"But a few hours ago," said she, "and how gay, how animated was my soul;
how dull, how cheerless now! Oh! Mortimer, but a few hours ago, and I
believed myself the beloved of thine heart, but the flattering illusion
is now over, and I no longer shall hope, or thou deceive." She changed
her clothes, and, flinging herself on the bed, from mere fatigue, at
length sunk into a slumber.