"But yet I say,
If imputation and strong circumstances,
Which lead directly to the door of truth,
Will give you satisfaction, you may have it."--SHAKSPEARE.
From that evening, to the day destined for the ball, nothing material
happened. On the morning of that day, as Amanda was sitting in the
drawing-room with the ladies, Lord Mortimer entered. Lady Euphrasia
could talk of nothing else but the approaching entertainment, which, she
said, was expected to be the most brilliant thing that had been given
that winter.
"I hope your ladyship," said Amanda, who had not yet declared her
intention of staying at home, "will be able to-morrow to give me a good
description of it." "Why, I suppose," cried Lady Euphrasia, "you do not
intend going without being able to see and hear yourself?" "Certainly,"
replied Amanda, "I should not, but I do not intend going." "Not going to
the ball to-night?" exclaimed Lady Euphrasia. "Bless me child," said
Lady Greystock, "what whim has entered your head to prevent your going?"
"Dear Lady Greystock," said Lady Euphrasia, in a tone of unusual
good-humor, internally delighted at Amanda's resolution, "don't tease
Miss Fitzalan with questions." "And you really do not go?" exclaimed
Lord Mortimer, in an accent expressive of surprise and disappointment.
"I really do not, my lord." "I declare," said the marchioness, even more
delighted than her daughter at Amanda's resolution, as it favored a
scheme she had long been projecting, "I wish Euphrasia was as
indifferent about amusement as Miss Fitzalan: here she has been
complaining of indisposition the whole morning, yet I cannot prevail on
her to give up the ball."
Lady Euphrasia, who never felt in better health and spirits, would have
contradicted the marchioness, had not an expressive glance assured her
there was an important motive for this assertion.
"May we not hope, Miss Fitzalan," said Lord Mortimer, "that a resolution
so suddenly adopted as yours may be as suddenly changed?" "No, indeed,
my lord, nor is it so suddenly formed as you seem to suppose."
Lord Mortimer shuddered as he endeavored to account for it in his own
mind; his agony became almost insupportable; he arose and walked to the
window where she sat.
"Amanda," said he, in a low voice, "I fear you forget your engagement to
me."
Amanda, supposing this alluded to her engagement for the ball, replied,
"she had not forgotten it." "For your inability or disinclination to
fulfil it, then," said he, "will you not account?" "Most willingly, my
lord." "When?" asked Lord Mortimer, impatiently, for, unable longer to
support his torturing suspense, he determined, contrary to his first
intention, to come to an immediate explanation relative to Belgrave.
"To-morrow, my lord," replied Amanda, "since you desire it, I will
account for not keeping my engagement, and I trust," a modest blush
mantling her cheeks as she spoke, "that your lordship will not
disapprove of my reasons for declining it."
The peculiar earnestness of his words, Lord Mortimer imagined, had
conveyed their real meaning to Amanda.
"Till to-morrow, then," sighed he, heavily, "I must bear disquietude."
His regret, Amanda supposed, proceeded from disappointment at not having
her company at the ball: she was flattered by it, and pleased at the
idea of telling him her real motive for not going, certain it would meet
his approbation, and open another source of benevolence to poor
Rushbrook.
In the evening, at Lady Euphrasia's particular request, she attended at
her toilet, and assisted in ornamenting her ladyship. At ten she saw the
party depart, without the smallest regret for not accompanying them:
happy in self-approbation, a delightful calm was diffused over her mind:
a treacherous calm, indeed, which, lulling her senses into security,
made the approaching storm burst with redoubled violence on her head; it
was such a calm as Shakspeare beautifully describes:--
"We often see against some storm
A silence in the heavens; the rack stand still,
The bold winds speechless, and the orb below
As hush as death."
She continued in Lady Euphrasia's dressing-room, and took up the
beautiful and affecting story of Paul and Mary, to amuse herself. Her
whole attention was soon engrossed by it; and, with the unfortunate
Paul, she was shedding a deluge of tears over the fate of his lovely
Mary, when a sudden noise made her hastily turn her head, and with equal
horror and surprise, she beheld Colonel Belgrave coming forward. She
started up, and was springing to the door, when, rushing between her and
it, he caught her in his arms, and forcing her back to the sofa, rudely
stopped her mouth.
"Neither cries or struggles, Amanda," said he, "will be availing;
without the assistance of a friend, you may be convinced, I could not
have entered this house, and the same friend will, you may depend on it,
take care that our _tete-à-tete_ is not interrupted."
Amanda shuddered at the idea of treachery; and being convinced, from
what he said, she could not expect assistance, endeavored to recover her
fainting spirits, and exert all her resolution.
"Your scheme, Colonel Belgrave," said she, "is equally vile and futile.
Though treachery may have brought you hither, you must be convinced
that, under the Marquis of Roslin's roof, who, by relationship, as well
as hospitality, is bound to protect me, you dare not, with impunity,
offer me any insult. The marquis will be at home immediately; if,
therefore, you wish to preserve the semblance of honor, retire without
further delay." "Not to retire so easily," exclaimed Belgrave, "did I
take such pains, or watch so anxiously for this interview. Fear not any
insult; but, till I have revealed the purpose of my soul, I will not be
forced from you. My love, or rather adoration, has known no abatement by
your long concealment; and now that chance has so happily thrown you in
my way, I will not neglect using any opportunity it may offer."
"Gracious heaven!" said Amanda, while her eyes flashed with indignation,
"how can you have the effrontery to avow your insolent
intentions--intentions which long since you must have known would ever
prove abortive?" "And why, my Amanda," said he, again attempting to
strain her to his breast, while she shrunk from his grasp, "why should
they prove abortive? why should you be obstinate in refusing wealth,
happiness, the sincere, the ardent affection of a man, who, in promoting
your felicity, would constitute his own? My life, my fortune, would be
at your command; my eternal gratitude would be yours for any trifling
sacrifice the world might think you made me. Hesitate no longer about
raising yourself to affluence, which, to a benevolent spirit like yours,
must be so peculiarly pleasing. Hesitate not to secure independence to
your father, promotion to your brother; and, be assured, if the
connection I formed in an ill-fated hour, deceived by a specious
appearance of perfection, should ever be dissolved, my hand, like my
heart, shall be yours." "Monster!" exclaimed Amanda, beholding him with
horror, "your hand, was it at your disposal, like your other offers, I
should spurn with contempt. Cease to torment me," she continued, "lest,
in my own defence, I call upon those who have power, as well as
inclination, to chastise your insolence. Let this consideration, joined
to the certainty that your pursuit must ever prove unavailing, influence
your future actions; for, be assured, you are in every respect an object
of abhorrence to my soul."
As she spoke, exerting all her strength, she burst from him, and
attempted to gain the door. He flung himself between her and it, his
face inflamed with passion, and darting the most malignant glances at
her.
Terrified by his looks, Amanda tried to avoid him; and when he caught
her again in his arms, she screamed aloud. No one appeared; her terror
increased.
"Oh, Belgrave!" cried she, trembling, "if you have one principle of
honor, one feeling of humanity remaining, retire. I will pardon and
conceal what is past, if you comply with my request." "I distress you,
Amanda," said he, assuming a softened accent, "and it wounds me to the
soul to do so, though you, cruel and inexorable, care not what pain you
occasion me. Hear me calmly, and be assured I shall attempt no action
which can offend you."
He led her again to the sofa, and thus continued:--
"Misled by false views, you shun and detest the only man who has had
sufficient sincerity to declare openly his intentions; inexperience and
credulity have already made you a dupe to artifice. You imagined Sir
Charles Bingley was a fervent admirer of yours, when, be assured, in
following you he only obeyed the dictates of an egregious vanity, which
flattered him with the hope of gaining your regard, and being
distinguished by it. Nothing was farther from his thoughts, as he
himself confessed to me, than seriously paying his addresses to you; and
had you appeared willing, at last, to accept them, be assured he would
soon have contrived some scheme to disengage himself from you. The
attentions of Lord Mortimer are prompted by a motive much more dangerous
than that which instigated Sir Charles. He really admires you, and would
have you believe his views are honorable; but beware of his duplicity.
He seeks to take advantage of the too great confidence you repose in
him. His purpose once accomplished, he would sacrifice you to Lady
Euphrasia; and I know enough of her malevolent disposition to be
convinced she would enjoy her triumph over so lovely a victim. Ah, my
dear Amanda, even beauty and elegance like yours would not, on the
generality of mankind, have power to make them forego the advantages
annexed to wealth--on Lord Mortimer, particularly, they would fail of
that effect. His ambition and avarice are equal to his father's; and
though his heart and soul, I am confident, revolt from the mind and
person of Lady Euphrasia, he will unite himself to her, for the sake of
possessing her fortune, and thus increasing his own power of procuring
the gratifications he delights in. As my situation is known, I cannot be
accused of deception, and whatever I promise, will be strictly
fulfilled. Deliberate therefore no longer, my Amanda, on the course you
shall pursue." "No," cried she, "I shall, indeed, no longer deliberate
about it."
As she spoke she started from her seat. Belgrave again seized her hand.
At this moment a knocking was heard at the hall door, which echoed
through the house. Amanda trembled, and Belgrave paused in a speech he
had begun. She supposed the marquis had returned. It was improbable he
would come to that room; and even if he did, from his distrustful and
malignant temper, she knew not whether she should have reason to rejoice
at or regret his presence. But how great was her confusion when, instead
of his voice, she heard those of the marchioness and her party! In a
moment the dreadful consequences which might ensue from her present
situation rushed upon her mind. By the forced attentions of the
marchioness and Lady Euphrasia, she was not long deceived, and had
reason to believe, from the inveterate dislike they bore her, that they
would rejoice at an opportunity like the present for traducing her fame;
and with horror she saw that appearances, even in the eyes of candor,
would be against her. She had positively, and unexpectedly, refused
going to the ball. She had expressed delight at the idea of staying at
home. Alas! would not all these circumstances be dwelt upon? What ideas
might they not excite in Lord Mortimer, who already showed a tendency to
jealousy? Half wild at the idea, she clasped her hands together and
exclaimed, in a voice trembling with anguish, "Merciful heaven, I am
ruined forever!"
"No, no," cried Belgrave, flinging himself at her feet, "pardon me,
Amanda, and I never more will molest you. I see your principles are
invincible. I admire, I revere your purity, and never more will I
attempt to injure it. I was on the point of declaring so when that
cursed knock came to the door. Compose yourself, and consider what can
be done in the present emergency. You will be ruined if I am seen with
you. The malicious devils you live with would never believe our united
asseverations of your innocence. Conceal me, therefore, if possible,
till the family are settled; the person who let me in will then secure
my retreat, and I swear solemnly never more to trouble you."
Amanda hesitated between the confidence her innocence inspired, and the
dread of the unpleasant construction malice might put on her situation.
She heard the party ascending the stairs. Fear conquered her reluctance
to concealment, and she motioned to Belgrave to retire to a closet
adjoining the dressing-room. He obeyed the motion, and closed the door
softly after him.
Amanda, snatching up her book, endeavored to compose herself; but the
effort was ineffectual--she trembled universally--nor was her agitation
diminished when, from the outside of the door, Lady Euphrasia called to
her to open it. She tottered to it, and almost fainted on finding it
locked--with difficulty she opened it, and the whole party, followed by
the marquis, entered.
"Upon my word, Miss Fitzalan," said the marchioness, "you were
determined no one should disturb your meditations. I fear we have
surprised you; but poor Euphrasia was taken ill at the ball, and we were
obliged to return with her." "Miss Fitzalan has not been much better, I
believe," said Lady Euphrasia, regarding her attentively. "Good Lord,
child!" cried Lady Greystock, "what is the matter with you? why, you
look as pale as if you had seen a ghost." "Miss Fitzalan is fond of
solitude," exclaimed the marquis, preventing her replying to Lady
Greystock. "When I returned home about an hour ago, I sent to request
her company in the parlor, which honor, I assure you, I was refused."
The message, indeed, had been sent, but never delivered to Amanda.
"I assure you, my lord," said she, "I heard of no such request." "And
pray, child, how have you been employed all this time?" asked Lady
Greystock. "In reading, madam," faltered out Amanda, while her
death-like paleness was succeeded by a deep blush. "You are certainly
ill," said Lord Mortimer, who sat beside her, in a voice expressive of
regret at the conviction. "You have been indulging melancholy ideas, I
fear," continued he softly, and taking her hand, "for surely--surely
to-night you are uncommonly affected."
Amanda attempted to speak. The contending emotions of her mind prevented
her utterance, and the tears trickled silently down her cheeks. Lord
Mortimer saw she wished to avoid notice, yet scarcely could he forbear
requesting some assistance for her.
Lady Euphrasia now complained of a violent headache. The marchioness
wanted to ring for remedies. This Lady Euphrasia opposed; at last, as if
suddenly recollecting it, she said, "in the closet there was a bottle of
eau-de-luce, which she was certain would be of service to her."
At the mention of the closet, the blood ran cold through the veins of
Amanda; but when she saw Lady Euphrasia rise to enter it, had death, in
its most frightful form, stared her in the face, she could not have
betrayed more horror. She looked towards it with a countenance as
expressive of wild affright as Macbeth's, when viewing the chair on
which the spectre of the murdered Banquo sat. Lord Mortimer observing
the disorder of her looks, began to tremble. He grasped her hand with a
convulsive motion, and exclaimed:
"Amanda, what means this agitation?"
A loud scream from Lady Euphrasia broke upon their ears, and she rushed
from the closet, followed by Belgrave.
"Gracious Heaven!" exclaimed Lord Mortimer, dropping Amanda's hand, and
rising precipitately.
Amanda looked around--she beheld every eye fastened on her with
amazement and contempt. The shock was too much for her to support. A
confused idea started into her mind that a deep-laid plot had been
concerted to ruin her; she faintly exclaimed, "I am betrayed," and sunk
back upon the sofa.
Lord Mortimer started at her exclamation. "Oh Heavens!" cried he, as he
looked towards her; unable to support the scene that would ensue in
consequence of this discovery, he struck his forehead in agony, and
rushed out of the room. In the hall he was stopped by Mrs. Jane, the
maid appointed by the marchioness to attend Amanda.
"Alack-a-day, my lord," said she, in a whimpering voice, "something
dreadful, I am afraid, has happened above stairs. Oh dear! what people
suffer sometimes by their good nature. I am sure, if I thought any harm
would come of granting Miss Fitzalan's request, she might have begged
and prayed long enough, before I would have obliged her." "Did she
desire you to bring Colonel Belgrave to this house?" asked Lord
Mortimer. "Oh, to be sure she did, my lord, or how should I ever have
thought of such a thing? She has been begging and praying long enough
for me to contrive some way of bringing him here; and she told me a
piteous story, which would have softened a stone, of his being a
sweetheart of hers before he was married." "Merciful powers!" cried Lord
Mortimer, clasping his hands together, "how have I been deceived."
He was hurrying away, when Mrs. Jane caught his coat. "I shall lose my
place," said she, sobbing, "that I shall, most certainly; for my lord
and lady never will forgive my bringing any one in such a way into the
house. I am sure, I thought no great harm in it, and did it quite from
good nature; for, indeed, how could one resist the poor, dear young
lady; she cried, and said she only wanted to bid farewell to her dear
Belgrave."
Lord Mortimer could hear no more. He shook her from him, and hurried
from the house.
Amanda's faculties suffered but a momentary suspension; as she opened
her eyes, her composure and fortitude returned.
"I am convinced," said she, rising and advancing to the marquis, "it
will shock your lordship to hear, that it is the treachery of some
person under your roof has involved me in my present embarrassing
situation. For my own justification, 'tis necessary to acknowledge that
I have long been the object of a pursuit from Colonel Belgrave, as
degrading to his character as insulting to mine. When he broke so
unexpectedly upon me to-night, he declared, even with effrontery
declared, he had a friend in this house who gave him access to it. As
your guest, my lord, I may expect your lordship's protection; also that
an immediate inquiry be made for the abettor in this scheme against me,
and a full discovery of it extorted--that should the affair be
mentioned, it may be explained, and my fame cleared of every
imputation." "That, madam," said the marquis, with a malicious sneer,
"would not be quite so easy a matter as you may perhaps suppose. Neither
the world nor I am so credulous as you imagine. Your story, madam, by no
means hangs well together. There is no person in my house would have
dared to commit the act you accuse them of, as they must know the
consequence of it would be immediate dismission from my service. Had not
Colonel Belgrave been voluntarily admitted, he never would have been
concealed;--no, madam, you would have rejoiced at the opportunity our
presence gave you of punishing his temerity. Innocence is bold; 'tis
guilt alone is timorous."
The truth of part of his speech struck forcibly on Amanda; but how could
she explain her conduct?--how declare it was her dread of the
marchioness and Lady Euphrasia's malice which had made her consent to
conceal him.
"Oh, I see," said she, in the agony of her soul--"I see I am the dupe of
complicated artifice." "I never in my life," cried the marchioness, "met
with such assurance--to desire the marquis to be her champion." "As she
was intrusted to my care, however," exclaimed Lady Greystock, "I think
it necessary to inquire into the affair. Pray, sir," turning to the
colonel, "by what means did you come here?"
The colonel, with undiminished assurance, had hitherto stood near the
fatal closet leaning on a chair.
"That, madam," replied he, "I must be excused revealing. Let me,
however, assure your ladyship 'tis not on my own account I affect
concealment." Here he glanced at Amanda. "Those parts of my conduct,
however, which I choose to conceal, I shall always be ready to defend."
"Sir," cried the marquis haughtily, "no explanation or defence of your
conduct is here required; I have neither right nor inclination to
interfere in Miss Fitzalan's concerns."
The colonel bowed to the circle, and was retiring, when Amanda flew to
him and caught his arm. "Surely, surely," said she, almost gasping for
breath, "you cannot be so inhuman as to retire without explaining this
whole affair. Oh, Belgrave, leave me not a prey to slander. By all your
hopes of mercy and forgiveness hereafter, I conjure you to clear my
fame."
"My dear creature," said he, in a low voice, yet low enough to be heard
by the whole party, "anything I could say would be unavailing. You find
they are determined not to see things in the light we wish them viewed.
Compose yourself, I beseech you, and be assured, while I exist, you
never shall want comfort or affluence."
He gently disengaged himself as he spoke, and quitted the room, leaving
her riveted to the floor in amazement at his insolence and perfidy.
"I am sure," said Lady Greystock, "I shall regret all my life the hour
in which I took her under my protection; though, indeed, from what I
heard soon after my arrival in London, I should have dispatched her back
to her father, but I felt a foolish pity for her. I was in hopes,
indeed, the society I had introduced her to would have produced a
reformation, and that I might be the means of saving a young creature
from entire destruction." "From what I have already suffered by her
family, nothing should have tempted me to take her under my roof,"
exclaimed the marchioness. "Was she my relation," cried the marquis, "I
should long since have come to a determination about her; as yours,
madam," turning to the marchioness, "I shall not attempt forming one; I
deem it, however, absolutely necessary to remove Lady Euphrasia
Sutherland from the house till the young lady chooses to quit it. I
shall therefore order the carriage to be ready at an early hour for the
villa."
"I shall certainly accompany your lordship," cried the marchioness, "for
I cannot endure her sight; and though she deserves it, it shall not be
said that we turned her from the house." "The only measure she should
pursue," exclaimed Lady Greystock, "is to set off as soon as possible
for Ireland; when she returns to obscurity the affair may die away." "It
may, however," said Amanda, "be yet revived to cover with confusion its
contrivers. To Heaven I leave the vindication of my innocence. Its
justice is sure, though sometimes slow, and the hour of retribution
often arrives when least expected. Much as I have suffered--much as I
may still suffer, I think my own situation preferable to theirs who have
set their snares around me. The injurer must ever feel greater pangs
than the injured--the pangs of guilt and remorse. I shall return to my
obscurity, happy in the consciousness that it is not a shelter from
shame, but a refuge from cruelty I seek. But can I be surprised at
meeting cruelty from those who have long since waived the ties of
kindred?--from those," and she glanced at Lady Greystock, "who have set
aside the claims of justice and humanity?"
The marchioness trembled with rage at this speech, and as Amanda retired
from the room, exclaimed, "intolerable assurance."
Amanda repaired immediately to her chamber. She tottered as she walked,
and the housekeeper and Mrs. Jane, who, with some other servants, had
assembled out of curiosity near the door, followed her thither.
The emotions she had so painfully suppressed now burst forth with
violence. She fell into an agony of tears and sobs which impeded her
breathing. The housekeeper and Jane loosened her clothes and supported
her to the bed. In a short time she was sufficiently recovered to be
able to speak, and requested they would engage a carriage for her
against the next day, at an early hour, that she might commence her
journey to Ireland. This they promised, and at her desire retired.
Success, but not happiness, had crowned the marchioness's scheme. She
triumphed in the disgrace she had drawn upon Amanda, but feared that
disgrace was only temporary. She had entangled her in a snare, but she
dreaded not having secured her in it. She distrusted those who had
assisted her designs--for the guilty will ever suspect each other. They
might betray her, or Colonel Belgrave might repent; but such evils, if
they did ever arrive, were probably far distant. In the interim, all she
desired to accomplish might be effected. Long had she been meditating on
some plan which should ruin Amanda forever--not only in the opinion of
Lord Mortimer, but in the estimation of the world. With the profligacy
of Colonel Belgrave she was well acquainted, and inclined from it to
believe that he would readily join in any scheme which could give him a
chance of possessing Amanda. On discovering her residence, he had
ordered his valet, who was a trusty agent in all his villanies, to
endeavor to gain access to the house, that he might discover whether
there was a chance of introducing him there. The valet obeyed his
orders, and soon attached himself to Mrs. Jane, whom the marchioness had
placed about Amanda, from knowing she was capable of any deceitful part.
She was introduced to Belgrave, and a handsome present secured her in
his interest.
She communicated to the marchioness the particulars of their interview.
From that period they had been seeking to bring about such a scene as
was at last acted; for the conduct of Amanda had hitherto defeated their
intentions. Her staying from the ball at last gave the wished-for
opportunity.
Lady Euphrasia was apprised of the whole plot, and the hint of her
indisposition was given in the morning, that no suspicion might be
entertained in the evening, when mentioned as a plea for returning home
earlier than was intended.
Colonel Belgrave was introduced into the closet by Mrs. Jane, through a
door that opened from the lobby; and whilst Amanda sat pensively
reading, he stole out, and secured the other door, as already mentioned.
When Lady Euphrasia declared she was too ill to continue at the ball,
Lord Mortimer offered to attend her home. Had he not done so, the
marchioness intended to have asked him.
The marquis was persuaded that Amanda was an artful and dangerous rival
to his daughter, and he hated her from that consideration. The laws of
hospitality obliged him to treat her with politeness, but he gladly
seized the first opportunity that offered for expressing his dislike.
Lady Greystock saw through the plot, but she professed her belief of
Amanda's guilt, which was all the marchioness required.
The marquis left the ladies together, while he went to give orders about
his early journey. Soon after his departure a loud knocking was heard,
which announced a visitor; and from the lateness of the hour, they
conjectured, and were right in doing so, that it must be Lord Mortimer.
After traversing several streets, in an agony no language could
describe, he returned to Portman Square. His fancy presented Amanda to
his view, overwhelmed with shame, and sinking beneath the keen
reproaches levelled at her. In the idea of her sufferings, all
resentment for the supposed perfidy was forgotten. Human nature was
liable to err, and the noblest efforts that nature could make, was to
pardon such errors. To speak comfort to this fallen angel, he felt would
relieve the weight which pressed upon his own breast. Pale and
disordered he entered the room, and found the ladies apparently much
affected.
"My dear lord," said the marchioness, "I am glad you are come back. As a
friend of the family, you may perhaps honor us with your advice on the
present occasion." "Indeed," exclaimed Lady Greystock, "I suppose his
lordship is at as great a loss to know what can be done as we are. Was
the colonel in a situation to make any reparation--but a married man,
only think, how horrible!" "Execrable monster!" cried Lord Mortimer,
starting from his seat, and traversing the room, "it were a deed of
kindness to mankind to extirpate him from the earth: but say," continued
he, and his voice faltered as he spoke, "where is the unfortunate----,"
he could not pronounce the name of Amanda. "In her own room," replied
the marchioness. "I assure you, she behaved with not a little insolence,
on Lady Greystock advising her to return home. For my part, I shall let
her act as she pleases."
She then proceeded to mention the marquis's resolution of leaving the
house till she had quitted it, and that he insisted on their
accompanying him.
"To return to her father is certainly the only eligible plan she can
pursue," said Lord Mortimer; "but allow me," continued he, "to request
that your ladyship will not impute to insolence any expression which
dropped from her. Pity her wounded feelings, and soften her sorrows." "I
declare," cried Lady Euphrasia, "I thought I should have fainted from
the pity I felt for her." "You pitied her, then," said Lord Mortimer,
sitting down by her ladyship, "you pitied and soothed her afflictions?"
"Yes, indeed," replied she.
If ever Lady Euphrasia appeared pleasing in the eyes of Lord Mortimer,
it was at this moment, when he was credulous enough to believe she had
shed the tear of pity over his lost Amanda. He took her hand. "Ah! my
dear Lady Euphrasia," said he, in an accent of melting softness,
"perhaps even now she needs consolation. A gentle female friend would be
a comfort to her wounded heart."
Lady Euphrasia immediately took the hint, and said she would go to her.
He led her to the door. "You are going," cried he, "to perform the
office of an angel--to console the afflicted. Ah! well does it become
the young and gentle of your sex to pity such misfortunes."
Her ladyship retired, but not indeed to the chamber of the forlorn
Amanda. In her own she vented the rage of her soul in something little
short of execrations against Lord Mortimer, for the affection she saw he
still retained for Amanda.
On her ladyship's retiring, Lady Greystock mentioned every particular
she had heard from Mrs. Jennings, and bitterly lamented her having ever
taken Amanda under her protection. The subject was too painful to be
long endured by Lord Mortimer. He had heard of the early hour fixed for
their journey, and saying he would no longer keep the ladies from
repose, precipitately retired. He gave his man directions to watch their
motions, and inform him when they left town.
Exhausted by the violence of her emotions, a temporary forgetfulness
stole over the senses of Amanda, on her being left to solitude. In this
state she continued till roused by a bustle in the house. She started,
listened, and heard the sound of a carriage. Supposing it to be the one
she had ordered for her departure, she sprang from the bed, and, going
to the window, saw, instead of one for her, the marquis's, into which he
was handing the ladies. As soon as it drove from the door, she rang the
bell, and the housekeeper immediately appeared, as Mrs. Jane had
attended the marchioness to the villa. Amanda inquired "whether a
carriage, as she directed, had been engaged for her."
The housekeeper replied, "the hour in which she spoke was too late for
such a purpose, but she had now sent about one."
Amanda endeavored to exert herself, and was packing up her clothes, when
a maid entered the chamber, and said, "Lord Mortimer was below, and
wished to speak to her."
Tumultuous joy pervaded the mind of Amanda. She had believed it probable
she should not see him again before her departure for Ireland, from
whence she had determined writing to him the particulars of the affair.
His visit seemed to announce he thought not unfavorably of her. She
supposed he came to assure her that his opinion of her integrity was
unshaken--"and I shall yet triumph," cried she, in the transport of the
idea, "over malice and treachery."
She sprung past the maid; her feet scarce touched the ground, and in a
moment she found herself in the arms of Lord Mortimer, which
involuntarily opened to receive her, for, trembling weak, and
disordered, she would else, on seeing him, have sunk to the floor. He
supported her to a sofa. In a little time she raised her head from his
shoulder, and exclaimed, "Oh! you are come! I know you are come, to
comfort me." "Would to Heaven," he answered, "I were capable of either
giving or receiving comfort. The period, however, I trust, may yet
arrive when we shall both at least be more composed. To mitigate your
sorrows would lessen my own; for never, oh, never! can my heart forget
the love and esteem it once bore Amanda." "Once bore her!" repeated
Amanda. "Once bore her, Lord Mortimer! do you say? Then you wish to
imply they no longer exist?"
The tone of anguish in which she spoke, pierced the heart of Lord
Mortimer. Unable to speak, he arose, and walked to the window, to hide
his emotion. His words, his silence, all conveyed a fatal truth to
Amanda. She saw a dreadful and eternal separation effected between her
and Lord Mortimer. She beheld herself deprived of reputation, loaded
with calumny, and no longer an object of love, but of detestation and
contempt. Her anguish was almost too great to bear, yet the pride of
injured innocence made her wish to conceal it; and, as Lord Mortimer
stood at the window, she determined to try and leave the room without
his knowledge, but ere she gained the door her head grew giddy, her
strength failed, she staggered, faintly screamed on finding herself
falling, and sunk upon the floor.
Lord Mortimer wildly called for assistance. He raised and carried her
back to the sofa; he strained her to his bosom, kissed her pale lips,
and wept over her.
"I have wounded your gentle soul, my Amanda," cried he, "but I have
tortured my own by doing so. Ah! still dearest of women, did the world
compassionate your errors as I compassionate them, neither contempt nor
calumny would ever be your portion. How pale she looks!" said he,
raising his head to gaze upon her face; "how like a lovely flower
untimely faded! Yet were it happiness for her never to revive; a soul
like hers, originally noble, must be wretched under the pressure of
scorn. Execrable Belgrave! the fairest work of Heaven is destroyed by
you. Oh! my Amanda, my distress is surely severe--though anguish rives
my heart for your loss, I must conceal it--the sad luxury of grief will
be denied me, for the world would smile if I could say I now lamented
you."
Such were the effusions of sorrow which broke from Lord Mortimer over
the insensible Amanda. The housekeeper, who had been listening all this
time, now appeared, as if in obedience to his call, and offered her
assistance in recovering Amanda. Heavy sighs at length gave hopes of her
restoration. Lord Mortimer, unable to support her pathetic lamentations,
determined to depart ere she was perfectly sensible.
"Miss Fitzalan," said he to the housekeeper, "will wish, I am convinced,
to quit this house immediately. I shall take upon myself to procure her
a carriage, also a proper attendant, for her journey, which, I flatter
myself, she will be able to commence in a few hours. Be kind, be gentle
to her, my good woman, and depend on my eternal gratitude. When she is
recovered, deliver her this letter."
The housekeeper promised to observe his injunctions, and he departed.
To Ireland, with Amanda, he intended sending an old female servant, who
had formerly been an attendant of his mother's, and his own man. He was
shocked at the conduct of the marchioness and Lady Greystock, and
thought them guilty of the highest inhumanity in thus deserting Amanda.
The letter he had put into the housekeeper's hands excited her curiosity
so strongly that she was tempted to gratify it. Amanda was not in a
situation to perceive what she did, the letter could easily be sealed
again, and, in short, without longer hesitation, she opened it. How
great was her amazement, on finding it contained a bank-note for five
hundred pounds. The words were as follows:--
Consider me, Amanda, in the light of a brother; as such accept
my services; to serve you, in any manner, will be a source of
consolation, which, I flatter myself, you will be happy to allow
me. 'Tis necessary you should return immediately to your father;
hesitate not, then, about using the enclosed. Your complying
with my request will prove that you yet retain a friendship for
MORTIMER.
"What a sum," cried the housekeeper, as she examined the note; "what a
nice little independency would this, in addition to what I have already
saved, be for an honest woman! What a pity it is such a creature as it
is designed for should possess it!" The housekeeper, like her lady, was
fertile in invention: to be sure there was some danger in her present
scheme, but for such a prize it was worth her while to run some risk.
Could she but get Amanda off ere the carriage from Lord Mortimer
arrived, she believed all would succeed as she could wish. Amanda,
ignorant as she was of Lord Mortimer's intentions, would not,
consequently, be influenced by them, to oppose anything she could do.
Full of this idea, she ran out, and calling a footman, high in her
favor, desired him immediately to procure a travelling chaise for Miss
Fitzalan. She then returned to Amanda, who was just beginning to move.
"Come, come," cried she, going to her, and roughly shaking her shoulder,
"have done with those tragedy airs, and prepare yourself against the
carriage you ordered, comes: it will be at the door in a few minutes."
Amanda looked round the room. "Is Lord Mortimer gone, then?" said she.
"Lord, to be sure he is," cried the housekeeper; "he left you on the
floor, and, as he went out, he said you should never have another
opportunity of deceiving him."
A sudden frenzy seemed to seize Amanda; she wrung her hands, called upon
Lord Mortimer in the impassioned language of despair, and flung herself
on the ground, exclaiming, "This last stroke is more than I can bear."
The housekeeper grew alarmed, lest her agitation should retard her
departure; she raised her forcibly from the ground, and said, "she must
compose herself to begin her journey, which was unavoidable, as the
marchioness had given absolute orders to have her sent from the house
early in the morning."
"Accursed house!" said Amanda, whose reason was restored by the
strenuous remonstrances of the housekeeper: "Oh, that I had never
entered it!" She then told her companion, "if she would assist her, as
she was almost too weak to do anything for herself, she would be ready
against the carriage came." The housekeeper and maid accordingly
attended her to her chamber; the former brought her drops, and the
latter assisted in putting on her habit, and packing up her clothes.
Amanda having secured her trunks, desired they might be sent, by the
first opportunity, to Castle Carberry; she had left a great many clothes
there, so took nothing at present with her but a small quantity of
linen. She had but a few guineas in her purse; her watch, however, was
valuable; and if she had money enough to carry her to Dublin, she knew
there she might procure a sufficient sum on it to carry her home.
At last the carriage came; with a trembling frame, and half-broken
heart, Amanda entered it. She saw Nicholas, the footman, who had
procured it, ready mounted to attend her. She told him it was
unnecessary to do so; but he declared he could not think of letting so
young a lady travel unprotected. She was pleased at his attention: she
had shuddered at the idea of her forlorn situation, and now dropped a
tear of sweet sensibility at finding she was not utterly deserted by
every human being. The carriage took the road to Parkgate, as Amanda
chose to embark from thence, the journey being so much nearer to it than
to Holyhead, It was now about eight o'clock; after travelling four
hours, the chaise stopped at a small house on the roadside, which
appeared to be a common ale-house. Amanda was unwilling to enter it; but
the horses were here to be changed; and she was shown into a dirty
parlor, where, almost sinking with weakness, she ordered tea to be
immediately brought in. She was much astonished, as she sat at the
tea-table, to see Nicholas enter the room with a familiar air, and seat
himself by her. She stared at him at first, supposing him intoxicated;
but perceiving no signs of this in his countenance, began to fear that
the insults she had received at the marquis's made him think himself
authorized to treat her with this insolence. She arose abruptly, and,
summoning all her resolution to her aid, desired him to retire, adding,
"If his attendance was requisite she would ring for him."
Nicholas also quitted his seat, and following her, caught her in his
arms, exclaiming, "Bless us, how hoity toity you are grown."
Amanda shrieked, and stamped on the floor in an agony of terror and
indignation.
"Why, now really," said he, "after what happened at home, I think you
need not be so coy with me." "Oh, save me, Heaven, from this wretch!"
was all the affrighted Amanda could articulate.
The door opened. A waiter appeared, and told Nicholas he was wanted
without. Nicholas released Amanda, and ran directly from the room.
Amanda sunk upon a chair, and her head turned giddy at the idea of the
dangers with which she was surrounded. She saw herself in the power of a
wretch--perhaps wretches, for the house seemed a proper place for scenes
of villany--without the means of delivering herself. She walked to the
window. A confused idea of getting through it, and running from the
house, darted into her mind, but she turned from it in agony at seeing a
number of countrymen drinking before it. She now could only raise her
feeble hands to heaven to supplicate its protection.
She passed some minutes in this manner, when the lock turned and made
her shudder, but it was the landlady alone who entered. She came, she
said, with Nicholas's respectful duty, and she was sorry he was obliged
to go back to town without seeing her safe to her journey's end.
"Is he really gone?" asked Amanda, with all the eagerness of joy. "Yes,"
the woman said; "a person had followed him from London on purpose to
bring him back." "Is the carriage ready?" cried Amanda. She was informed
it was. "Let me fly, then." The landlady impeded her progress to tell
her the bill was not yet settled. Amanda pulled out her purse, and
besought her not to detain her. This the woman had no desire to do.
Things were therefore settled without delay between them, and Amanda was
driven with as much expedition as she could desire from the terrifying
mansion. The chaise had proceeded about two miles, when, in the middle
of a solitary road, or rather lane, by the side of a wood, it suddenly
stopped. Amanda, alarmed at every incident, hastily looked out, and
inquired what was the matter; but how impossible to describe her terror
when she beheld Colonel Belgrave, and Nicholas standing by him! She
shrunk back, and entreated the postilion to drive on; but he heeded not
her entreaty. Nicholas opened the door, and Belgrave sprang into the
carriage. Amanda attempted to burst open the door at the opposite side;
but he caught her to his bosom, and the horses set off at full speed.
Colonel Belgrave's valet had been secreted by Mrs. Jane the preceding
night in the house, that he might be able to give his master
intelligence of all that passed within it, in consequence of his being
discovered in the closet. On hearing the family were gone to the
Marquis's villa, Belgrave believed he could easily prevail on the
domestics to deliver up Amanda to him. Elated with this hope, he reached
the house, attended by his valet, just after she had quitted it. The
housekeeper hesitated to inform him of the road she had taken till she
had procured what she knew would be the consequence of her hesitation--a
large bribe. Horses were then immediately procured, and Belgrave and his
servant set off in pursuit of Amanda. The sight of a travelling chaise
at the little inn already mentioned, prompted their inquiries; and on
finding the chaise waited for Amanda, the colonel retired to a private
room, sent for Nicholas, and secured him in his interest. It was
settled they should repair to the wood, by which the postilion was
bribed to pass, and from thence proceed to a country-house of the
colonel's. Their scheme accomplished, Nicholas, happy in the service he
had done, or rather the reward he had obtained for that service, again
turned his face towards London.
The carriage and attendants Lord Mortimer procured for Amanda arrived
even earlier than the housekeeper had expected, and she blessed her
lucky stars for the precipitancy with which she had hurried off Amanda.
They were followed by his lordship himself, whose wretched heart could
not support the idea of letting Amanda depart without once more
beholding her. Great was his dismay, his astonishment, when the
housekeeper informed him she was gone.
"Gone!" he repeated, changing color.
The housekeeper said that, without her knowledge, Miss Fitzalan had a
chaise hired, and the moment it came to the door stepped into it,
notwithstanding she was told his lordship meant to provide everything
proper for her journey himself. "But she said, my lord," cried the
housekeeper, "she wanted none of your care, and that she could never get
fast enough from a house, or from people, where and by whom she had been
so ill treated."
Lord Mortimer asked if she had any attendant, and whether she took the
letter.
The housekeeper answered both these questions in the affirmative.
"Truly, my lord," she continued, "I believe your lordship said something
in that letter which pleased her, for she smiled on opening it, and
said, 'Well, well, this is something like comfort.'" "And was she really
so mean?" he was on the point of asking, but he timely checked a
question which was springing from a heart that sickened at finding the
object of its tenderest affections unworthy in every respect of
possessing them. Every idea of this kind soon gave way to anxiety on her
account. His heart misgave him at her undertaking so long a journey
under the protection of a common servant; and, unable to endure his
apprehensions, he determined instantly to pursue and see her safe
himself to the destined port.
The woman, who had hitherto sat in the chaise, was ordered to return
home. He entered it with eagerness, and promised liberally to reward the
postilions if they used expedition. They had changed horses but once
when Lord Mortimer saw Nicholas approaching, whom, at the first glance,
he knew. He stopped the carriage, and called out, "Where have you left
Miss Fitzalan?" "Faith, my lord," cried Nicholas, instantly stopping and
taking off his hat, "in very good company. I left her with Colonel
Belgrave, who was waiting, by appointment, on the road for her." "Oh!
horrible infatuation!" said Lord Mortimer, "that nothing can snatch her
from the arms of infamy."
The postilion desired to know whether he should return to London.
Lord Mortimer hesitated, and at last desired him to go on according to
his first directions. He resolved to proceed to Parkgate and discover
whether Amanda had returned to Ireland. They had not proceeded far when
they overtook a travelling chaise. As Lord Mortimer passed, he looked
into it, and beheld Amanda reclined on the bosom of Belgrave. He
trembled universally, closed his eyes, and sighed out the name of the
perfidious Amanda. When they had got some way before the other chaise,
he desired the postilion to strike off into another road, which, by a
circuit of a few miles, would bring them back to London. Amanda, it was
evident, had put herself under the protection of Belgrave, and to know
whether she went to Ireland was now of little consequence to him, as he
supposed her unreclaimable. But how impossible to describe his distress
and confusion when almost the first object he beheld, on alighting in
St. James's Square, was his aunt, Lady Martha Dormer, who, in compliance
with his urgent request, had hastened to London. Had a spectre crossed
his sight he could not have been more shocked.
"Well, my dear Frederick," said her ladyship, "you see I lost no time in
obeying your wishes. I have flown hither, I may indeed say, on the wings
of love. But where is this little divinity of thine? I long to have a
peep at her goddess-ship."
Lord Mortimer, inexpressibly shocked, turned to the window.
"I shall see, to be sure," cried her ladyship, "quite a little paragon.
Positively, Frederick, I will be introduced this very evening." "My dear
aunt, my dear Lady Martha," said Lord Mortimer, impatiently, "for
Heaven's sake spare me!" "But tell me," she continued, "when I shall
commence this attack upon your father's heart?" "Never! never!" sighed
Mortimer, half distracted. "What! you suppose he will prove inflexible?
But I do not despair of convincing you to the contrary. Tell me,
Frederick, when the little charmer is to be seen?" "Oh, God!" cried
Mortimer, striking his forehead, "she is lost," said he, "she is lost
forever!"
Lady Martha was alarmed. She now, for the first time, noticed the wild
and pallid looks of her nephew. "Gracious Heaven!" she exclaimed, "what
is the matter?"
The dreadful explanation Lord Mortimer now found himself under a
necessity of giving. The shame of acknowledging he was so deceived, the
agony he suffered from that deception, joined to the excessive agitation
and fatigue he had suffered the preceding night, and the present day, so
powerfully assailed him at this moment, that his senses suddenly gave
way, and he actually fainted on the floor.
What a sight for the tender Lady Martha! She saw something dreadful had
happened, and what this was Lord Mortimer, as soon as recovered,
informed her.
He then retired to his chamber. He could neither converse nor bear to be
conversed with. His fondest hopes were blasted, nor could he forego the
sad indulgence of mourning over them in solitude. He felt almost
convinced that the hold Amanda had on his affections could not be
withdrawn; he had considered her as scarcely less than his wife, and had
she been really such, her present conduct could not have given him more
anguish. Had she been snatched from him by the hand of death; had she
been wedded to a worthy character, he could have summoned fortitude to
his aid; but to find her the prey of a villain, was a stroke too
horrible to bear, at least for a long period, with patience.