"A song, a flower, a name, at once restore
Those long-connected scenes when first they moved
The attention----."--AKENSIDE.
The dejection of Amanda gradually declined, as the idea of seeing Lord
Mortimer again revived. It revived not, however, without hopes, fears,
and agitations. Sometimes she imagined she should find him devoted to
Lady Euphrasia; then again believed his honor and sincerity would not
allow him to give her up so suddenly, and that this apparent
indifference proceeded from resentment, which would vanish if an
opportunity once offered (and she trusted there would) for explaining
her conduct. She endeavored to calm the emotions these ideas gave rise
to, by reflecting that a short time now would most probably terminate
her suspense.
They stopped for the night, about five o'clock, at an inn about a mile
from Tudor Hall. After dinner, Amanda informed Lady Greystock she wished
to accompany Ellen to her parents. To this her ladyship made no
objection, on finding she did not want the carriage. She charged her,
however, not to forget the hour of tea, by which time she would be
refreshed by a nap, and ready to engage her at a game of picquet.
They set out unattended, as Ellen refused the ostler's offer of carrying
her portmanteau, saying she would send for it the next day. This she did
by Amanda's desire, who wished, unobserved, to pursue a walk, in which
she promised herself a melancholy indulgence, from reviewing the
well-known scenes endeared by tender recollections.
A mournful, yet not undelightful, sensation attends the contemplation of
scenes where we once enjoyed felicity--departed joys are ever remembered
with an enthusiasm of tenderness which soothes the sorrow we experience
for their loss.
Such were the present feelings of Amanda; while Ellen, undisturbed by
regrets for the past, pointed out, with pleasure, the dwellings of her
intimates and friends. Yet when she came to Chip's deserted cottage, she
stopped, and a tear stole from her eye, accompanied at the same time by
a smile, which seemed to say, "though thou art now lonely and cheerless,
the period is approaching when comfort and gayety shall resume their
stations within thee; when the blaze of thy fire and thy taper shall
not only diffuse cheerfulness within, but without, and give a ray to the
desolate or benighted traveller, to guide him to thy hospitable
shelter!"
Amanda, leaning on Ellen's arm, proceeded slowly in her walk. The
evening was delightful. The blue vault of heaven was spangled with
stars, and the air, without being severely cold, was clear and
refreshing. Their road, on one side, was skirted with the high woods of
Tudor Hall. Amanda gazed on them with emotion; but when she came to the
gate which Lord Mortimer had opened for her departure at their first
interview, the softness of her heart, could no longer be resisted: she
stopped, leaned pensively upon it, and wept. The evergreens, with which
the woods abounded, prevented their wearing a desolate appearance. She
wished to have pierced into their most sequestered gloom, but she had no
time to indulge this wish; nor did she, indeed believe her companion,
who was tinctured with superstitious fears, would have accompanied her.
"When the glow of vegetation again revives," said she to herself; "when
the blossoms and the flowers again spread their spangled foliage to the
sun, and every shade resounds with harmony, where, alas! will Amanda
be?--far distant, in all probability, from these delightful scenes,
perhaps neglected and forgotten by their master!"
The awful murmurs of the wind rustling through the trees, joined to the
solemn sound of a neighboring waterfall, began to excite fears in
Ellen's breast. She laid her trembling hand on Amanda, and besought her,
for the love of Cot, to hasten to the cottage. The road still wound
round the wood; and lights from a small village, which lay on its
borders, cast various shadows upon the trees; whilst the hum of distant
voices floated upon the gale, and fancy pictured joyous groups of
rustics assembling round their fires, to enjoy refreshment after the
labors of the day.
"Peaceful people," said Amanda, "when the wants of nature are satisfied,
no care or trouble obtrudes upon your minds. Tired, but not exhausted
with the toils of the day, with preparing the bosom of the earth for the
ethereal mildness of the spring, you seek and enjoy a calm repose."
In the lane which led to her nurse's cottage, Amanda paused for a
moment. Down this lane Lord Mortimer had once pursued her. She looked
towards the mansion of Tudor Hall. She endeavored to discern the
library, but all was dark and dismal, except the wing, which Ellen
informed her was occupied by the domestics. Through the window of
Edwin's cottage, they saw all the family seated round a blazing fire,
chatting and laughing. The transport of Ellen's heart overcame every
idea of caution. She hastily unlatched the door, and flung herself into
her parents' arms. Their surprise and joy was unbounded, and Amanda was
received and welcomed with as much tenderness as their child, without
ever asking the reason of her sudden appearance. The first question was,
"Would she not stay with them?" and her answer filled them with regret
and disappointment. Perceiving them about procuring her refreshments,
"she declared she had not a minute to stay. The time allotted for her
walk was already exceeded, and she feared Lady Greystock would be
offended at being left so long at an inn by herself." She therefore
hastily presented some little presents she had brought for the family,
and was bidding them farewell, when poor Ellen, who, from so long
residing with her young lady, almost adored her, suddenly flung herself
into her arms, and clinging round her neck, as if to prevent a
separation, which, till the moment of its arrival, she thought she could
have supported, exclaimed:--
"Oh, my tear young laty, we are going to part, and my heart sinks within
me at the idea. Even Chip himself, if he was here, could not console me.
I know you are not happy, and that increases my sorrow. Your sweet cheek
is pale, and I have often seen you cry when you thought no poty was
minding you. If you who are so goot are not happy, how can a peing like
me hope to be so? Oh, may I soon pe plest with seeing you return the
mistress of Tudor Hall, married to the sweetest, handsomest of noblemen,
who, I know, in my soul, loves you, as well inteed he may, for where
would he see the fellow of my young laty? Then Chip and I will be so
happy, for I am sure you and my lort will shelter our humble cottage."
Amanda pressed the affectionate girl to her breast, and mingled tears
with hers, while she softly whispered to her not to hint at such an
event; "but be assured, my dearest Ellen," continued she, "that I shall
ever rejoice at your felicity, which, to the utmost of my power, I would
promote, and hope soon to hear of your union with Chip."
"Alack-a-tay!" said her nurse; "are you going away, when I thought you
come to stay among us? and then, perhaps, my lort would have come, and
then there would have peen such a happy meeting. Why, I verily thought
he would have gone distracted when he found you, as one may say, run
away; and to pe sure I did pity him, and should have made no scruple to
tell him where you were, had I known it myself, which he suspected, for
he offered me a sight of money if I would discover. Then there is Parson
Howel; why he has peen like unto nothing put a ghost since you went
away; and he does so sigh, and he comes almost every tay to ask me apout
you, and whether I think or know Lord Mortimer is with you. He will pe
in such grief to think you were here without his seeing you."
"Well," said Amanda, endeavoring to appear cheerful, "we may all yet
have a happy meeting."
She then repeated her farewell, and, leaning on the arm of old Edwin,
returned to the inn, where she again bid him adieu; and hastening to her
ladyship, found her just awaking from a comfortable slumber. They drank
tea, and, after playing for about an hour at picquet, retired to rest.
Amanda, who enjoyed but little repose, rose early in the morning, and,
finding her ladyship not quite ready, went down to the court to walk
about till she was; where, to her great surprise, the first object she
perceived was Howel, leaning pensively against a gate opposite the
house. He flew over, and, catching her hand, exclaimed, "You are
surprised, but, I trust, not displeased. I could not resist such an
opportunity of seeing you once more, after all I have suffered from your
precipitate journey, and the probability of never more beholding you. I
have been watching here, in expectation of this happiness, since the
first dawn of day."
"I am sorry," said Amanda, gravely, "your time was so ill employed."
"How coldly you speak," cried he. "Ah! could you read my heart, you
would see so little presumption in it, that you would, I am confident,
pity, though you could not relieve, its feelings. Every spot you loved
to frequent, I have haunted since your departure. Your mother's grave
has often been the scene of pensive meditation. Nor has it wanted its
vernal offering; the loveliest flowers of my garden I have wove into
wreaths, and hung them over it, in fond remembrance of her angel
daughter."
The plaintive sound of Howel's voice, the dejection of his countenance,
excited the softest feelings of sensibility in Amanda's bosom. But she
grew confused by the tenderness of his expression, and, saying she was
happy to see him, tried to disengage her hand, that she might retire.
"Surely," exclaimed he, still detaining it a few moments, "you might
grant me without reluctance--you, who are going to enjoy every
happiness and pleasure, going to meet the favored----"
Amanda anticipated the name he was about uttering, and her confusion
redoubled. She attempted again, yet in vain, to withdraw her hand, and
turned to see whether any one was observing them. How great was her
mortification, on perceiving Lady Greystock leaning from a window,
exactly over their heads! She smiled significantly at Amanda, on being
seen; and, the carriage being ready, said, "She would attend her below
stairs." Howel now relinquished Amanda's hand. He saw she looked
displeased; and expressed such sorrow, accompanied with such submissive
apologies for offending her, that she could not avoid according him her
pardon. He handed both her and Lady Greystock into the carriage, and
looked a melancholy adieu as it drove off.
"Upon my word, a pretty smart young fellow!" said Lady Greystock.
"Though impatient this long time to set out, I could not think of
interrupting the interesting _tete-à-tete_ I saw between you and him. I
suppose you have been a resident in this part of the country before,
from your seeming to know this tender swain so well."
Amanda wished to avoid acknowledging this. If known, she feared it would
lead to a discovery, or at least excite a suspicion of her intimacy with
Lord Mortimer, which she was desirous of concealing, while in this
uncertainty concerning him.
"Your ladyship has heard, I believe," replied she, "that Ellen's mother
nursed me?" "Yes, my dear," answered her ladyship, with some smartness;
"but if your acquaintance even commenced with this youth in infancy, I
fancy it has been renewed since that period."
Amanda blushed deeply, and, to hide her confusion, pretended to be
looking at the prospect from the window. Lady Greystock's eyes pursued
hers. Tudor Hall was conspicuous from the road, and Amanda involuntarily
sighed as she viewed it.
"That is a fine domain," said Lady Greystock; "I presume you have
visited it, and know its owner?"
Amanda could not assert a falsehood, neither could she evade the
inquiries of Lady Greystock; and therefore not only confessed its being
the estate of Lord Mortimer, but her own residence near it the preceding
summer. Her ladyship immediately conjectured it was then the attachment
between her and Lord Mortimer had commenced; and the blushes, the
hesitation, and the unwillingness of Amanda, in owning her visit to
Wales, all confirmed this conjecture. She tried, however, to insinuate
herself into her full confidence, by warm expressions of esteem, and by
hinting, that from the disposition of Lord Mortimer, she could not
believe he ever did, or ever would, think seriously of Lady Euphrasia;
this, she hoped, would either induce or betray Amanda to open her whole
heart; but she was disappointed. She flattered herself, however, with
thinking she had discovered enough to satisfy the marchioness, if she,
as Lady Greystock feared she would, expressed any disapprobation at
seeing Amanda her companion. She intended saying, that Fitzalan had
absolutely forced her under her protection.
They arrived late in the evening of the third day at Pall Mall, where
her ladyship's agent had previously taken lodgings for them.
Lady Greystock, though immersed in business against the approaching
trial, neglected no means of amusement; and, the day after her arrival,
sent a card of inquiry to the Roslin family, as the most eligible mode
of informing them of it. The next morning, as she expected, she received
a visit from them. Amanda was sitting in the window when the carriage
drove up to the door. She instantly arose, and left the room, determined
neither to expose herself to their impertinence, or appear solicitous
for their notice, by staying in their company uninvited. Lady Greystock
soon informed them of Amanda's having accompanied her to London; and
they, as she expected, expressed both surprise and displeasure at it. As
she had settled in her own mind, she, therefore, told them, "that
Fitzalan had urged her to take his daughter under her care, with
entreaties she could not resist. Entreaties," she added, with a
significant look, "she believed he had good reason for making." She then
related all she suspected, or rather had discovered, relative to the
attachment between Lord Mortimer and Amanda having commenced the
preceding summer in Wales.
The marchioness and Lady Euphrasia instantly concluded she was sent to
London for the purpose of having it completed by a marriage. This,
however, they determined to prevent. The marchioness felt the most
inveterate hatred against her; and also, that, to prevent her being
advantageously settled, even if that settlement threatened not to
interfere with the one she had projected for her daughter, she could
undertake almost any project. Though she abhorred the idea of noticing
her, yet she was tempted now to do so, from the idea that it would
better enable her to watch her actions. This idea she communicated in a
hasty whisper to Lady Euphrasia, who, approving it, she told Lady
Greystock, "as Miss Fitzalan was her guest, she would, on that account,
permit her to be introduced to them." Amanda was accordingly sent for.
On entering the room, Lady Greystock took her hand, and presented her to
the marchioness and Lady Euphrasia. The former, half rising, with a
coldness she could not conquer, said, "Whenever Lady Greystock honored
her with a visit, she should be happy to see Miss Fitzalan along with
her." The latter only noticed her by a slight bow; and when Amanda drew
a chair near the sofa on which she sat, or rather reclined, she
continued staring in her face, and alternately humming an Italian air,
and caressing a little dog she had brought with her. The unembarrassed
elegance of Amanda's air and manner surprised and mortified them, as
they expected to have seen her covered with confusion, at an
introduction so unexpected. To their haughty souls, nothing was more
delightful than the awe and deference which vulgar and illiberal minds
are so apt to pay to rank and fortune. They were provoked to see, in
Amanda, conscious dignity, instead of trembling diffidence. As she sat
by Lady Euphrasia, the marchioness could not help secretly confessing
she was a dangerous rival to her daughter; for never did her lovely
features and ingenuous countenance appear to such advantage, as when
contrasted to Lady Euphrasia's. The Marchioness withdrew soon after her
entrance, unable longer to restrain the malignant passions which envy
had excited.
Both she and Lady Euphrasia were convinced that to communicate their
suspicions at present to Lord Cherbury about her and his son, would not
answer the end proposed, for it could be of little consequence, they
reflected, to withdraw the esteem of the father, if that of the son
continued, who, independent in his notions, and certain of the fortunes
of his ancestors, might not hesitate to gratify himself. The point,
therefore, was, by some deep-laid scheme, to ruin Amanda in the
estimation of Lord Mortimer; and if in the power of mortals to contrive
and execute such a scheme, they gave themselves credit for being able to
effect it.
The blow at her fond hopes, they resolved, should be followed by one
against the peace of Fitzalan, on whom they knew, whenever they pleased,
they could draw the resentment of Lord Cherbury. Thus should they
completely triumph over the lovely Amanda--plunge two beings they
detested into poverty and wretchedness--destroy expectations which
interfered with their own, and secure an alliance with a man they had
long wished united to their family.
From the unaltered indifference of Lord Mortimer to Lady Euphrasia, they
were convinced of his predilection for another, flattering themselves
that nothing but a prior attachment could have rendered him insensible
to the attractions of her ladyship. To render the object of this
attachment contemptible in his sight, they believed would produce the
transfer of affections they so long desired. The haughty soul of Lady
Euphrasia would never have permitted her to think of accepting Lord
Mortimer after his neglect of her, but by the opportunity she should
have by such an acceptance of triumphing over Amanda. From this idea,
she entered warmly into all her mother's plans.
Lord Cherbury had never yet spoken explicitly to his son concerning the
union he had projected for him. He often, indeed, dropped hints about
it, which he always found either neglected, or purposely misunderstood;
and from these circumstances was pretty sensible of the disinclination
Lord Mortimer felt to his wishes. He knew he entertained high notions of
the independence which a rational mind has a right to maintain, and that
in an affair of such consequence, as Mortimer frequently said he
considered a matrimonial connection to be, he would neither be
controlled by the opinion of others or merely allured by the advantages
of fortune.
To avoid a disagreeable argument with a son he not only loved, but
respected, he sought rather, by indirect means, to involve him in an
entanglement with the Roslin family, than come to an open explanation
with him. For this purpose he contrived parties as often as possible
with them in public; where, by Lord Mortimer's being seen with Lady
Euphrasia, reports might be raised of an intended alliance between
them--reports which he himself propagated among some particular friends,
with a desire of having them circulated, but an injunction of secrecy as
to their author. These reports would, he trusted, on reaching Lord
Mortimer, lead to a discussion of the affair; and then, he meant to say,
as Lord Mortimer had partly contributed to raise them himself by his
attendance on Lady Euphrasia, he could not possibly, with honor, recede
from realizing them; yet often did his lordship fear his scheme would
prove abortive--for he well knew the cool judgment and keen penetration
of his son. This fear always inspired him with horror, for he had a
motive for desiring the union which he durst not avow.
Lord Mortimer quickly indeed discerned what his father's views were in
promoting his attendance on Lady Euphrasia. He therefore avoided her
society whenever it was possible to do so without absolute rudeness, and
contradicted the reports he almost continually heard of an intended
alliance between them in the most solemn manner. He had always disliked
her, but latterly that dislike was converted into hatred, from the
malevolence of her conduct towards Amanda; and he felt that, even were
his heart free, he never could devote it to her--or give his hand where
it must be unaccompanied with esteem. He wished to avoid a disagreeable
conversation with Lord Cherbury, and flattered himself his unaltered
indifference to her ladyship would at length convince his lordship of
the impossibility of accomplishing his projected scheme; and that
consequently it would be dropped ere openly avowed, and he saved the
painful necessity of absolutely rejecting a proposal of his father's.
In the evening Lady Greystock and Amanda received cards for dinner the
next day at the Marquis of Roslin's. Amanda made no objection to this
invitation. Her father had often declared, if the marchioness made an
overture for an intimacy with his children, he would not reject it, as
he always deemed family quarrels highly prejudicial to both parties,
with regard to the opinion of the world. Besides, had she objected to
it, she should either have been a restraint on Lady Greystock, or left
to total solitude; and the idea also stole upon her mind that she should
lose a chance of seeing Lord Mortimer, whom she supposed a frequent
guest of the marquis's. Her heart fluttered at the idea of soon
beholding him, and the bright glow of animation which overspread her
countenance in consequence of this idea attracted the observation of
Lady Greystock, who congratulated her on the alteration that was already
visible in her looks; and inferred from thence that she was so well
recovered of her fatigue as to be able to contrive a little trimming for
her against the next day. This Amanda cheerfully undertook, and having a
quick execution as well as an elegant taste, soon made progress in it
which delighted her ladyship, who, to divert her while she worked,
related some of the many entertaining anecdotes with which her memory
was stored.
Though Amanda submitted her beautiful hair to the hands of a friseur,
she departed not from the elegant simplicity always conspicuous in her
dress. Her little ornaments were all arranged with taste, and an anxious
wish of appearing to advantage. So lovely, indeed, did she appear to
Lady Greystock, that her ladyship began seriously to fear she should
not be forgiven by the marchioness or Lady Euphrasia, for having
introduced such an object to their parties.
About six they reached Portman Square, and found a large party assembled
in the drawing-room. After the first compliments were over and Amanda
introduced to the marquis--not, indeed, as a near relation, but an utter
stranger--a gentleman stepped up to the marchioness, and addressing her
in a low voice, was immediately presented by her to Amanda, as the Earl
of Cherbury.
"My dear young lady," said he, "allow me to express the pleasure I feel
at seeing the daughter of my worthy friend, Mr. Fitzalan. Allow me also
to increase that pleasure," continued he, taking her hand, and leading
her to a very lovely girl who sat at some distance, "by presenting Miss
Fitzalan to Lady Araminta Dormer, and desiring their friendship for each
other."
Surprised, confused, yet delighted by notice so little expected, the
heart of Amanda heaved with emotion; her cheeks mantled with blushes,
and the tear of sensibility trembled in her eye. She was not, however,
so embarrassed as to be incapable of expressing her acknowledgments to
his lordship for his attention, and also to assure him she had early
been taught, and sensibly felt, the claims he had upon her gratitude and
respect. He bowed, as if to prevent a further mention of obligations,
and left her seated by his daughter, who had expressed her pleasure at
being introduced to her, not in the supercilious style of Lady
Euphrasia, but in the sweet accents of affability and tenderness.
The conduct of Lord Cherbury had drawn all eyes upon Amanda; and the
marchioness and Lady Euphrasia regarded her with peculiar malignancy.
The idea, however, that they could, whenever they pleased, deprive her
of his notice, a little lessened the jealousy and mortification it had
excited.
"Pray, who is this little creature," exclaimed Miss Malcolm (who was a
relation of the Marquis's, and, from being extremely ugly, extremely
rich, and extremely ill-natured, was an immense favorite of Lady
Euphrasia's), "that puts one in mind of a country miss, on her first
appearance at a country assembly, blushing and trembling at every eye
she meets?"
"Some kind of a far-off relation of my mother's," replied Lady
Euphrasia, "whom that old dowager, Lady Greystock, picked up in the
wilds of Ireland, and has absolutely forced upon our notice; though I
assure you, from compassion, we should have taken the poor creature long
ago under our protection, but for the shocking conduct of her family to
the marchioness, and the symptoms she has already betrayed of following
their example. It is really ridiculous sending her to London. I dare say
her silly old father has exhausted all his ways and means in trying to
render her decent, comforting himself, no doubt, with the hope of her
entrapping some young fool of quality, who may supply his wants as well
as hers."
"Ay, I suppose all the stock in the farm was sold to dress her out,"
cried young Freelove, a little, trifling fop, who leaned on the back of
her ladyship's chair. He was a ward of Lord Cherbury, and his fortune
considerable; but nature had not been quite as bounteous to him as the
blind goddess. Both his mind and person were effeminate to a degree of
insignificance. All he aimed at was--being a man of fashion. His
manners, like his dress, were therefore regulated by it, and he never
attempted to approve of anything, or any creature, till assured they
were quite the ton. He had danced attendance for some time on Lady
Euphrasia, and she encouraged his assiduities in hopes of effecting a
change in Lord Mortimer's manner. But had his lordship even been a
passionate lover, poor Freelove was not calculated to inspire him with
jealousy. "I declare," continued he, surveying Amanda through an
opera-glass which dangled from his button-hole, "if her father has
nothing to support him but the hope of her making a conquest of
importance, he will be in a sad way, for, 'pon my soul, I can see
nothing the girl has to recommend her, except novelty; and that, you
know, is a charm which will lessen every day. All she can possibly
expect, is an establishment for a few months with some tasteless being
who may like the simplicity of her country look."
"And more than she merits," exclaimed Miss Malcolm; "I have no patience
with such creatures forcing themselves into society quite above them."
"I assure you," said Lady Euphrasia, "you would be astonished at her
vanity and conceit, if you knew her. She considers herself a first-rate
beauty, though positively any one may see she is quite the reverse, and
pretends to the greatest gentleness and simplicity. Then she has made
some strange kind of people (to be sure they must be) believe she is
accomplished; though, I dare say, if she can read tolerably, and scrawl
out a decent letter, 'tis the utmost she can do."
"We will quiz her after dinner about her accomplishments," said
Freelove, "and have a little fun with her."
"Ay, do," cried Miss Malcolm. "We will ask her to play and sing," said
her ladyship; "for I assure you she pretends to excel in both; though,
from her father's poverty, I am certain she can know little of either. I
shall enjoy her confusion of all things, when her ignorance is
detected."
Whilst this conversation was passing, Amanda, in conversing with Lady
Araminta, experienced the purest pleasure. Her ladyship was the
"softened image" of Lord Mortimer. Her voice was modulated to the same
harmony as his, and Amanda gazed and listened with rapture. On her
confusion abating, her eye had wandered round the room in quest of his
lordship, but he was not in it. At every stir, near the door, her heart
fluttered at the idea of seeing him; nor was this idea relinquished till
summoned to dinner. She fortunately procured a seat next Lady Araminta,
which prevented her thinking the time spent at dinner tedious. In the
evening the rooms were crowded with company, but Lord Mortimer appeared
not among the brilliant assembly. Yet the pang of disappointment was
softened to Amanda by his absence, intimating that he was not anxious
for the society of Lady Euphrasia. True, business, or a prior
engagement, might have prevented his coming; but she, as is natural,
fixed on the idea most flattering to herself.
Lady Euphrasia, in pursuance of the plan laid against Amanda, led the
way to the music-room, attended by a large party; as Freelove had
intimated to some of the beaux and belles, her ladyship and he were
going to quiz an ignorant Irish country girl. Lady Euphrasia sat down to
the harpsichord, that she might have a better pretext for asking Amanda
to play. Freelove seated himself by the latter, and began a conversation
which, he thought, would effectually embarrass her; but it had quite a
contrary effect, rendering him so extremely ridiculous as to excite a
universal laugh at his expense.
Amanda soon perceived his intention in addressing her; and, also, that
Lady Euphrasia and Miss Malcolm were privy to it, having caught the
significant looks which passed among them. Though tremblingly alive to
every feeling of modesty, she had too much sense, and real nobleness of
soul, to allow the illiberal sallies of impertinence to divest her of
composure.
"Have you seen any of the curiosities of London, my dear?" exclaimed
Freelove, lolling back in his chair, and contemplating the lustre of his
buckles, unconscious of the ridicule he excited.
"I think I have," said Amanda, somewhat archly, and glancing at him,
"quite an original in its kind." Her look, as well as the emphasis on
her words, excited another laugh at his expense, which threw him into a
momentary confusion.
"I think," said he, as he recovered from it, "the Monument and the
Tower would be prodigious fine sights to you, and I make it a particular
request that I may be included in your party whenever you visit them,
particularly the last place."
"And why," replied Amanda, "should I take the trouble of visiting wild
beasts, when every day I may see animals equally strange, and not half
so mischievous?"
Freelove, insensible as he was, could not mistake the meaning of
Amanda's words, and he left her with a mortified air, being, to use his
own phrase, "completely done up."
Lady Euphrasia, now rising from the harpsichord, requested Amanda to
take her place at it, saying, with an ironical air, "her performance
(which indeed was shocking) would make hers appear to amazing
advantage."
Diffident of her own abilities, Amanda begged to be excused. But when
Miss Malcolm, with an earnestness even oppressive, joined her entreaties
to Lady Euphrasia's she could no longer refuse.
"I suppose," said her ladyship, following her to the instrument, "these
songs," presenting her some trifling ones, "will answer you better than
the Italian music before you?"
Amanda made no reply, but turned over the leaves of the book to a lesson
much more difficult than that Lady Euphrasia had played. Her touch at
first was tremulous and weak, but she was too susceptible of the powers
of harmony not soon to be inspired by it; and gradually her style became
so masterly and elegant, as to excite universal admiration, except in
the bosoms of those who had hoped to place her in a ludicrous situation.
Their invidious scheme, instead of depressing, had only served to render
excellence conspicuous; and that mortification they destined for
another, fell upon themselves. When the lesson was concluded, some
gentlemen who either were, or pretended to be, musical connoisseurs,
entreated her to sing. She chose a plaintive Italian air, and the
exquisite taste and sweetness with which she sung, equally astonished
and delighted. Nor was admiration confined to the accomplishments she
displayed. The soft expression of her countenance, which seemed
accordant to the harmonious sounds that issued from her lips, was viewed
with pleasure, and praised with energy; and she rose from the
harpsichord covered with blushes from the applause which stole around
her. The gentlemen gathered around Lady Euphrasia, to inquire who the
beautiful stranger was, and she gave them pretty much the same account
she had already done to Miss Malcolm.
The rage and disappointment of that young lady, and her ladyship, could
scarcely be concealed. "I declare, I never knew anything so monstrously
absurd," exclaimed Lady Euphrasia, "as to let a girl in her situation
learn such things, except, indeed, it was to qualify her for a
governess, or an opera singer."
"Ay, I suppose," said Miss Malcolm, "we shall soon hear her quavering
away at one of the theatres; for no person of fashion would really
intrust her children to so confident a creature."
The fair object of their disquietude gladly accompanied Lady Araminta
into another room. Several gentlemen followed, and crowded about her
chair, offering that adulation which they were accustomed to find
acceptable at the shrine of beauty. To Amanda, however, it was irksome,
not only from its absurd extravagance, but as it interrupted her
conversation with Lady Araminta. The marchioness, however, who
critically watched her motions, soon relieved her from the troublesome
assiduities of the beaux, by placing them at card-tables. Not, indeed,
from any good-natured motive, but she could not bear that Amanda should
have so much attention paid her, and flattered herself she would be
vexed by losing it.
In the course of conversation, Lady Araminta mentioned Ireland. She had
a faint remembrance of Castle Carberry, she said, and had been half
tempted to accompany the marquis and his family in their late excursion.
Her brother, she added, had almost made her promise to visit the castle
with him the ensuing summer. "You have seen Lord Mortimer, to be sure?"
continued her ladyship.
"Yes, madam," faltered Amanda, while her face was overspread with a
crimson hue. Her ladyship was too penetrating not to perceive her
confusion, and it gave rise to a conjecture of something more than a
slight acquaintance being between his lordship and Amanda. The
melancholy he had betrayed on his return from Ireland had excited the
raillery of her ladyship, till convinced, by the discomposure he showed
whenever she attempted to inquire into the occasion of it, that it
proceeded from a source truly interesting to his feelings. She knew of
the alliance her father had projected for him with the Roslin family--a
project she never approved of, for Lady Euphrasia was truly disagreeable
to her; and a soul like Mortimer's, tender, liberal, and sincere, she
knew could never experience the smallest degree of happiness with a
being so uncongenial in every respect as was Lady Euphrasia to him. She
loved her brother with the truest tenderness, and secretly believed he
was attached in Ireland. She wished to gain his confidence, yet would
not solicit it, because she knew she had it not in her power
essentially to serve him. Her arguments, she was convinced, would have
little weight with Lord Cherbury, who had often expressed to her his
anxiety for a connection with the Roslin family. With the loveliness of
Amanda's person, with the elegance of her manner, she was immediately
charmed. As she conversed with her, esteem was added to admiration, and
she believed that Mortimer would not have omitted mentioning to her the
beautiful daughter of his father's agent, had he not feared betraying
too much emotion at her name. She appeared to Lady Araminta just the
kind of woman he would adore; just the being that would answer all the
ideas of perfection (romantic ideas she had called them) which he had
declared necessary to captivate his heart. Lady Araminta already felt
for her unspeakable tenderness. In the softness of her looks, in the
sweetness of her voice, there were resistless charms; and she felt, that
if oppressed by sorrow, Amanda Fitzalan, above all other beings, was the
one she would select to give her consolation. The confusion she betrayed
at the mention of Mortimer, made her ladyship suspect she was the cause
of his dejection. She involuntarily fastened her eyes upon her face, as
if to penetrate the recesses of her heart, yet with a tenderness which
seemed to say she would pity the secret she might then discover.
Lord Cherbury, at this moment of embarrassment to Amanda, approached. He
said, "He had just been making a request, and an apology to Lady
Greystock, and was now come to repeat them to her. The former was, to
meet the marquis's family at his house the next day at dinner; and the
latter was, to excuse so unceremonious an invitation, which he had been
induced to make on Lady Araminta's account, who was obliged to leave
town the day after the next, and had, therefore, no time for the usual
etiquette of visiting."
Amanda bowed. This invitation was more pleasing than one of more form
would have been. It seemed to indicate friendship, and a desire to have
the intimacy between her and his daughter cultivated. It gave her also a
hope of seeing Lord Mortimer. All these suggestions inspired her with
uncommon animation, and she entered into a lively conversation with Lord
Cherbury, who had infinite vivacity in his look and manner. Lady
Araminta observed the attention he paid her with pleasure. A
prepossession in her favor, she trusted, might produce pleasing
consequences.
Lady Greystock at length rose to depart. Amanda received an affectionate
adieu from Lady Araminta; and Lord Cherbury attended the ladies to their
carriage. On driving off, Lady Greystock observed, what a charming
polite man his lordship was; and, in short, threw out such hints, and
entered into such a warm eulogium on his merits, that Amanda began to
think he would not find it very difficult to prevail on her ladyship to
enter once more the temple of Hymen.
Amanda retired to her chamber in a state of greater happiness than for a
long period before she had experienced; but it was a happiness which
rather agitated than soothed the feelings, particularly hers, which were
so susceptible of every impression, that
"They turned at the touch of joy or woe,
And turning trembled too."
Her present happiness was the offspring of hope, and therefore
peculiarly liable to disappointment; a hope derived from the attention
of Lord Cherbury, and the tenderness of Lady Araminta, that the fond
wishes of her heart might yet be realized; wishes, again believed from
hearing of Lord Mortimer's dejection, which his sister had touched upon,
and from his absenting himself from the marquis's, which were not
uncongenial to those he himself entertained. She sat down to acquaint
her father with the particulars of the day she had passed: for her chief
consolation in her absence from him, was, in the idea of writing and
hearing constantly. Her writing finished, she sat by the fire,
meditating on the interview she expected would take place on the ensuing
day, till the hoarse voice of the watchmen, proclaiming past three
o'clock, roused her from her reverie. She smiled at the abstraction of
her thoughts, and retired to bed to dream of felicity.
So calm were her slumbers--so delightful her dreams--that Sol had long
shot his timorous ray into her chamber ere she awoke. Her spirits still
continued serene and animated. On descending to the drawing-room, she
found Lady Greystock just entering it. After breakfast, they went out in
her ladyship's carriage to different parts of the town. All was new to
Amanda, who, during her former residence in it, had been entirely
confined to lodgings in a retired street. She wondered at, and was
amused by, the crowds continually passing and repassing. About four they
returned to dress. Amanda began the labors of the toilet with a beating
heart; nor were its quick pulsations decreased on entering Lady
Greystock's carriage, which in a few minutes conveyed her to Lord
Cherbury's house in St. James's Square. She followed her ladyship with
tottering steps; and the first object she saw on entering the
drawing-room was Mortimer standing near the door.