GIVES SOME ACCOUNT OF COLONEL HUBERT'S RETURN TO CHELTENHAM.
We must now follow Colonel Hubert to Cheltenham, to which place he
returned in a state of mind not particularly easy to be described. The
barrier he had placed before his heart, the heavy pressure of which he
had sometimes felt to be intolerable, was now broken down; and it was a
relief to him to remember that Agnes knew of his love. But, excepting
this relief, there was little that could be felt as consolatory, and
much that was decidedly painful in his state of mind. He knew but too
well that not all the partial affection, esteem, and admiration
entertained for him by his aunt, would prevent her feeling and
expressing the most violent aversion to his marrying the niece of Mrs.
Barnaby; he knew, too, what sort of reception the avowal of such an
intention was likely to meet from his amiable but proud brother-in-law,
and remembered, with feelings not very closely allied to satisfaction,
the charge he had commissioned Lady Stephenson to give him, that he
should keep watch over his thoughtless younger brother, in order to
guard him, if possible, from bringing upon them the greatest misfortune
that could befall a family such as theirs--namely, the introducing an
inferior connexion into it.... Neither could he forget the influence he
had used, in consequence of this injunction, to crush the ardent,
generous, uncalculating attachment of his confiding friend Frederick for
her whom, in defiance of the wishes of his whole family, he was now
fully determined to make his wife. All this gave materials for very
painful meditation; and when, in addition to it, he recalled those
fearful words of Agnes, "I will never be your wife!" it required all the
power of that master passion which had seized upon his heart to keep him
steady to his resolution of communicating his wishes and intentions to
Lady Elizabeth, and to sustain his hopes of engaging her actively to
assist him in obtaining what he felt very sure she would earnestly
desire that he should never possess.
With all these heavy thoughts working within him, he entered the
drawing-room of his aunt, and rejoiced to find her _tete-a-tete_ with
his sister, Sir Edward being absent at a dinner-party of gentlemen. They
both welcomed him with eager inquiries concerning their young favourite,
the tone of which at once determined him to enter immediately upon the
tremendous subject of his hopes and wishes; and the affectionate
interest expressed for her, warmed him into a degree of confidence which
he was far from feeling when he entered the room.
"Pretty creature!" exclaimed Lady Elizabeth; "and that wretched woman
has actually left her alone in London lodgings?... Why did you not make
her return with you, Montague?... It was surely no time to stand upon
etiquette."
"I dared not even ask it," replied Colonel Hubert, his voice faltering,
and his manner such as to make the two ladies exchange a hasty glance
with each other.
"You dared not ask Agnes Willoughby, poor little thing, to come down
with you to my house, Colonel Hubert?" said the old lady. "You surely
forget that you went up to London with an invitation for her in your
pocket?"
"My dear aunt," replied Colonel Hubert, hesitating in his speech, as
neither of his auditors had ever before heard him hesitate, "I have much
to tell you respecting both Agnes Willoughby ... and myself...."
"Then tell it, in Heaven's name!" said Lady Elizabeth sharply. "Let it
be what it may, I would rather hear it than be kept hanging thus by the
ears between the possible and impossible."
Colonel Hubert moved his chair; and seating himself beside Lady
Stephenson, took her hand, as if to shew that she too was to listen to
what he was about to say, though it was their aunt to whom he addressed
himself. "From suspense, at least, I can relieve you, Lady Elizabeth,
and you too, my dear Emily, who look at me so anxiously without saying a
word ... at least I can relieve you from suspense.... I love Miss
Willoughby; and I hope, with as little delay as possible, to make her
my wife."
Lady Stephenson pressed his hand, and said nothing; but a deep sigh
escaped her. Lady Elizabeth, who was not accustomed to manifest her
feelings so gently, rose from her seat on the sofa, and placing herself
immediately before him, said, with great vehemence, "Montague Hubert,
son of my dead sister, you are come to years of discretion, and a trifle
beyond.... Your magnificent estate of thirteen hundred a year, and ... I
beg your pardon ... some odd pounds, shillings, and pence over, is all
your own, and you may marry Mrs. Barnaby herself, if you please, and
settle it upon her. No one living that I know of has any power to
prevent it.... But, sir, if you expect that Lady Elizabeth Norris will
ever receive as her niece a girl artful enough to conceal from me and
from your sister the fact that she was engaged to you, and that, too,
while receiving from both of us the most flattering attention ... nay,
such affection as might have opened any heart not made of brass and
steel ... if you expect this, you will find yourself altogether
mistaken."
This harangue, which her ladyship intended to be overpoweringly severe,
was, in fact, very nearly the most agreeable one that Colonel Hubert
could have listened to, for it touched only on a subject of offence that
he was perfectly able to remove. All embarrassment immediately
disappeared from his manner; and springing up to place himself between
his aunt and the door, to which she was approaching with stately steps,
he said, in a voice almost of exultation, "My dearest aunt!... How like
your noble self it is to have made this objection before every other!...
And this objection, which would indeed have been fatal to every hope of
happiness, I can remove by a single word.... Agnes was as ignorant of my
love for her as you and Emily could be till last night ... I have loved
her ... longer, it may be, than I have known it myself ... perhaps I
might date it from the first hour I saw her, but she knew nothing of
it.... Last night, for the first time, I confessed to her my love....
And what think you, Lady Elizabeth, was her answer?"
"Nay, Mr. Benedict, I know not.... 'I thank you, sir,' and a low
courtesy, I suppose."
"I was less happy, Lady Elizabeth," he replied, half smiling; adding a
moment after, however, with a countenance from which all trace of gaiety
had passed away, "The answer of Miss Willoughby to my offer of marriage
was ... Colonel Hubert, I can never be your wife."
"Indeed!... Then how comes it, Montague, that you still talk of making
her so?"
"Because, before I left her, I thought I saw some ground for hope that
her refusal was not caused by any personal dislike to me."
"Really!..." interrupted Lady Elizabeth.
"Nay, my dear aunt!" resumed Hubert, "you may in your kind and
long-enduring partiality fancy this impossible; but, unhappily for my
peace at that moment, I remembered that I was more than five-and-thirty,
and she not quite eighteen."
"But she told you I suppose that you were still a very handsome
fellow.... Only she had some other objection,--and pray, what was it,
sir?"
"She feared the connexion would be displeasing to you and Lady
Stephenson."
"And you assured her most earnestly, perhaps that she was mistaken?"
"No, Lady Elizabeth, I did not. There are circumstances in her position
that MUST make my marrying her appear objectionable to my family; and
though my little independence is, as your ladyship observes, my own, I
would not wish to share it with any woman who would be indifferent to
their reception of her. All my hope, therefore, rests in the confidence
I feel that, when the first unpleasing surprise of this avowal shall
have passed away, you ... both of you ... for there is no one else whose
approbation I should wait for ... you will suffer your hearts and heads
to strike a fair and reasonable balance between all that my sweet Agnes
has in her favour and all she has against her. Do this, Lady Elizabeth,
but do it as kindly as you can.... Emily will help you ... to-morrow
morning you shall tell me your decision.... I can resolve on nothing
till I hear it."
Colonel Hubert, as soon as he had said this left the room, nor did they
see him again that night.
The morning came, and he met Lady Stephenson at the breakfast table, but
Lady Elizabeth did not appear, sending down word, as was not unusual
with her, that she should take her chocolate in her own room. Sir Edward
was not in the room when he entered, and he seized the opportunity to
utter a hasty and abrupt inquiry as to the answer he might expect from
herself and their aunt.
"From me, Montague," she replied, "you cannot fear to hear anything very
harshly disagreeable. In truth, I have been so long accustomed to
believe that whatever my brother did, or wished to do, was wisest--best,
that it would be very difficult for me to think otherwise now; besides,
I cannot deny, though perhaps it hardly ought to be taken into the
account, that I too am very much in love with Agnes Willoughby, and
that ... though I would give my little finger she had no aunt Barnaby
belonging to her ... I never saw any woman in any rank whom I could so
cordially love and welcome as a sister."
In reply to this, Colonel Hubert clasped the lovely speaker to his
heart; and before he had released her from his embrace, or repeated his
inquiry concerning Lady Elizabeth, Sir Edward Stephenson entered, and
the conversation became general.
For many hours of that irksome morning Colonel Hubert was kept in the
most tantalizing state of suspense by the prolonged absence of the old
lady from the drawing-room. But at length, after Sir Edward and his lady
had set off for their second morning ramble without him, he was cheered
by the appearance of the ancient maiden, who was his aunt's tirewoman,
bringing in her lap-dog, and the velvet cushion that was its appendage;
which having placed reverently before the fire, she moved the favourite
_fauteuil_ an inch one way, and the little table that ever stood beside
it an inch the other, and was retiring, when Colonel Hubert said, ...
"Is my aunt coming immediately, Mitchel?"
"My lady will not be long, Colonel.... But her ladyship is very poorly
this morning," and with a graceful swinging courtesy she withdrew.
The Colonel trembled all over, "very poorly," as applied to Lady
Elizabeth Norris, having from his earliest recollection always been
considered as synonymous to "very cross."
"She will refuse to see her!" thought he, pacing the room in violent
agitation.... "and in that case she will keep her word.... She will
never be my wife!"
"Bless me!... How you do shake the room, Colonel Hubert," said a very
crabbed voice behind him, just after he had passed the door in his
perturbed promenade. "If you took such a fancy early in the morning,
when the house maid might sweep up the dust you had raised, I should not
object to it, for it is very like having one's carpet beat;... but just
as I am coming to sit down here, it is very disagreeable indeed."
This grumble lasted just long enough to allow the old lady (who looked
as if she had been eating crab apples, and walked as if she had suddenly
been seized with the gout in all her joints,) to place herself in her
easy chair as she concluded it, during which time the Colonel stood
still upon the hearth-rug with his eyes anxiously fixed upon the
venerable but very hostile features that were approaching him. A
moment's silence followed, during which the old Lady looked up in his
face with the most provoking expression imaginable; for cross as it was,
there was a glance of playful malice in it that seemed to say,--
"You look as if you were going to cry, Colonel."
He felt provoked with her, and this gave him courage.--"May I beg of
you, Lady Elizabeth, to tell me what I may hope from your kindness on
the subject I mentioned to you last night?" said he.
"Pray, sir, do you remember your grandfather?" was her reply.
"The Earl of Archdale?... Yes, madam, perfectly."
"You do.... Humph!... And your paternal grandfather, with his pedigree
from Duke Nigel of Normandy; did you ever hear of him?"
"Yes, Lady Elizabeth," replied the Colonel in a tone of indifference; "I
have heard of him; but he died, you know, when I was very young."
There was a minute's silence, which was broken by another question from
Lady Elizabeth.
"And pray, sir, will you do me the favour to tell me who was the
grandfather of Miss Willoughby?"
"I have little, or indeed no doubt, Lady Elizabeth, that Miss Willoughby
is the granddaughter of that Mr. Willoughby, of Greatfield Park, in
Warwickshire, who lost the tremendous stake at piquet that you have
heard of, and two of whose daughters married the twin sons of Lord
Eastcombe.... I think you cannot have forgotten the circumstances."
Lady Elizabeth drew herself forward in her chair, and fixing her eyes
stedfastly on the face of her nephew, said, in a voice of great
severity, "Do you mean to assert to me, Colonel Montague Hubert, that
Agnes Willoughby is niece to Lady Eastcombe and the Honourable Mrs.
Nivett?"
"I mean to assert to you, madam, that it is my firm persuasion that such
will prove to be the fact. But I have not considered it necessary, Lady
Elizabeth Norris, for the son of my father to withhold his affections
from the chosen of his heart, till he was assured he should gain all the
honour by the selection which a union with Lady Eastcombe's niece could
bestow;... nor should I have mentioned my belief in this connexion, by
way of a set-off to the equally near claim of Mrs. Barnaby, had you not
questioned me so particularly."
Had Colonel Hubert studied his answer for a twelvemonth, he could not
have composed a more judicious one: there was a spice of hauteur in it
by no means uncongenial to the old lady's feelings, and there was, too,
enough of defiance to make her take counsel with herself as to whether
it would be wise to vex him further. It was, therefore, less with the
accent of mockery, and more with that of curiosity, that she recommenced
her interrogatory.
"Will you tell me, Montague, from what source you derived this knowledge
of Miss Willoughby's family?... Was it from herself?"
"Certainly not. If the facts be as I have stated, and as I hope and
believe they will be found, Miss Willoughby will be as much surprised by
the discovery as your ladyship."
"From whom, then, did you hear it?"
"From no one, Lady Elizabeth, as a matter of fact connected with Agnes.
But something, I know not what, introduced the mention of old
Willoughby's wild stake at piquet at the club the other day.... The name
struck me, and I led old Major Barnes to talk to me of the family. He
told me that a younger son, a gay harum-scarum sort of youth, married
some girl, when he was in country quarters, whom his family would not
receive; that, ruined and broken-hearted by this desertion, he went
abroad almost immediately after his marriage, and has never been heard
of since."
"And this is the foundation upon which you build your hope, that Mrs.
Barnaby's niece is also the niece of Lady Eastcombe?... Ingenious
certainly, Colonel, as a theory, but somewhat slight as an edifice on
which to hang any weighty matter.... Don't you think so?"
"I hang nothing on it, Lady Elizabeth. If I did not feel that Miss
Willoughby was calculated to make me happy without this supposed
relationship, I certainly should not think her so with it. However, that
your ladyship may not fancy my imagination more fertile than it really
is, I must add, that when at Clifton, I did hear from the Misses Peters,
whom I have before mentioned to you, that the father of Agnes went
abroad after his marriage, and moreover that no news of him in any way
ever reached his wife's family afterwards."
Lady Elizabeth for some time made no reply, but seemed to ponder
upon this statement very earnestly. At length she said, in a tone
from which irony and harshness, levity and severity, were equally
banished,--"Montague!... there are some of the feelings which you have
just expressed, in which I cannot sympathise; but a very little
reflection will teach you that there is no ground of offence to you in
this ... for it would be unnatural that I should do so. You tell me that
your father's son need not deem the honour of a relationship to
Viscountess Eastcombe necessary to his happiness in life. So far I am
able to comprehend you, although Lady Eastcombe is an honourable and
excellent personage, whose near connexion with a young lady would be no
contemptible advantage (at least in my mind) upon her introduction into
life. But we will pass this.... When, however, you proceed to tell me
that your choice in marriage could in nowise be affected by the rank and
station of those with whom it might bring you in contact, and that,
too, when the question is, whether a Mrs. Barnaby, or a Lady Eastcombe,
should be in the foreground of the group, you must excuse me if I cannot
follow you."
Nothing is so distressing in an argument as to have a burst of
grandiloquent sentiment set aside by a few words of common sense.
Colonel Hubert walked the length of the drawing-room, and back again,
before he answered; he felt that, as his aunt put the case, he was as
far from _following_ his assertion by his judgment as herself; but ere
his walk was finished, the image of the desolate Agnes, as he had seen
her the night before, arose before him, and resumed its unconquerable
influence on his heart. He took a hint from her ladyship, threw aside
all mixture of heat and anger, and replied.--
"Heaven forbid, Lady Elizabeth, that I should attempt to defend any such
doctrine:... believe me, it is not mine. BUT, in one word, I love Miss
Willoughby; and if I can arrive at the happiness of believing that I am
loved in return, nothing but her own refusal will prevent me from
marrying her. This is my statement of facts; I will attempt no other,
and throw myself wholly upon your judgment to smooth, or render more
rugged, the path which lies before me."
The old lady looked at him and smiled very kindly. "Montague," said she,
"resolve my doubts. Is it the mention of your pleasant suspicions
respecting Miss Willoughby's paternal ancestry,... or your present
unvarnished frankness, that has won upon me?... Upon my honour, I could
not answer this question myself;... but certain it is that I do feel
more inclined to remember what a very sweet creature Agnes is at this
moment, than I ever thought I should again when our conversation began."
Colonel Hubert kneeled down upon her foot-stool, and kissing her hand,
said, in a voice that spoke his happiness, "It matters not to me what
the cause is, my dearest aunt.... I thank Heaven for the effect!... and
now ... do not think that I am taking an unfair advantage of this
kindness, if I ask you to remember the position of Miss Willoughby at
this moment. With such views for the future as I have explained to you,
is it not my duty to remove her from it?"
"What then do you propose to do?" demanded Lady Elizabeth.
"_I_ can do nothing,"... he replied;... "whatever aid or protection can
be extended to her, must come from you ... or Lady Stephenson;... and
that I should rather it came from you, who have long been to me as a
mother, can hardly surprise you. Sir Edward is an excellent young
man,... but he has prejudices that I should not like to battle with on
this occasion. It is from you, and you only, Lady Elizabeth, that I
either hope or wish to find protection for my future wife."
Again Lady Elizabeth pondered. "Did not Agnes tell us," she said at
length, "did she not say in her letter to Lady Stephenson, that she had
applied to some aged relation in Devonshire, by whom she hoped to be
extricated from her present terrible embarrassment?"
"It is very likely," replied Colonel Hubert, "for she spoke to me of
such a one, and hoped that Thursday ... that is to-morrow, is it not?...
would bring an answer to her application."
"Then, Montague, we must wait to hear what this Thursday brings forth
before we interfere to repeat the offer of protection which it is
possible she may not want.... And Heaven grant it may be so,... for if
she is to be your wife, Colonel Hubert, and it is pretty plain she will
be, will it not be better that you should follow her with your addresses
to the lowliest roof in Devonshire, than that she should take refuge
here, where every gossip's finger will be pointed at her?"
It was impossible to deny the truth of this, and Colonel Hubert cared
not to avow that all the favour she had bid him hope for was but
conditional, and that till the avowal of his love should be sanctioned
by his aunt and sister, he was still to hold himself as a rejected man.
He dared not tell her this, lest the feelings he had conquered with so
much difficulty should return, upon learning that it was not yet too
late to encourage them.
As patiently as he could, therefore, he awaited the expected letter from
Agnes, and well was he rewarded for doing so. The letter itself, modest
and unboastful as it was, gave a sufficiently improved picture of her
condition to remove all present anxiety on her account; and though he
certainly had no idea of the transformation she had undergone, from a
heart-broken, penniless dependant, into a petted, cherished heiress, he
was soothed into the belief that it would now cost his aunt and sister
infinitely less pain than he had anticipated, to extend such a degree of
favour to his Agnes as might lead her to confirm the hope on which he
lived.
But it was not the letter of Agnes that produced the most favourable
impression upon Lady Elizabeth; the postscript of Miss Compton was
infinitely more powerful in its effect upon her mind. Of Agnes,
personally, she never thought without a degree of partial admiration,
that nearly approached to affection; and vague as the hope was
respecting the family of her father, it clung very pertinaciously to the
old lady's memory, while a certain resemblance which she felt sure that
she could trace between the nose of Agnes and that of the honourable
Miss Nivett, Lord Eastcombe's eldest daughter, was doing wonders in her
mind by way of a balance-weight against the rouge and ringlets of Mrs.
Barnaby; yet, nevertheless, the notion that not "horrid Mrs. Barnaby"
only, but a host of aunts and cousins of the same breed, might come down
upon her in the event of this ill-assorted marriage, kept her in a sort
of feverish wavering state, something between good and ill humour, that
was exceedingly annoying to her nephew.
The keen-sighted old lady at once perceived that the postscript to
Agnes's letter was not written by a second Mrs. Barnaby, and from that
moment she determined, much more decisively than she chose to express,
that she would torment Colonel Hubert with no farther opposition.
After a short consultation between the aunt and niece, that letter was
despatched, the receipt of which was mentioned before Miss Compton and
Agnes left London for Clifton. Had Colonel Hubert been consulted upon
it, he would perhaps have suggested, as an improvement, that the
proposed meeting should take place the following week in London; but, on
the whole, the composition was too satisfactory for him to venture upon
any alteration of it, and again he called patience to his aid, while
many miserably long days were wasted by the very slow and deliberate
style in which the man and maid servant who managed all Lady
Elizabeth's worldly concerns, set about preparing themselves and her for
this removal. It was with a degree of pleasure which almost atoned for
the vexation of this delay that he learned Sir Edward's good-natured
compliance with his beautiful bride's capricious-seeming wish of
revisiting Clifton. Colonel Hubert pertinaciously refused to let his gay
brother-in-law into his confidence, till the time arrived for presenting
him to Miss Willoughby, as to his future wife. Did this reserve arise
from some unacknowledged doubt whether Agnes, when the pressure of
misfortune was withdrawn, would voluntarily bestow herself on a man of
his advanced age? Perhaps so. That Agnes was less than eighteen, and
himself more than thirty-five, were facts repeated to himself too often
for his tranquillity.