DEMONSTRATING THE HEAVY SORROW WHICH MAY BE PRODUCED BY A YOUNG LADY'S
HAVING A LARGER FORTUNE THAN HER LOVER EXPECTED.
Miss Compton was not long kept waiting for the appearance of her
promised visitor on the following morning, for before twelve o'clock
Lady Elizabeth Norris arrived. Agnes very punctually obeyed the commands
that had been given her, and having properly introduced the two old
ladies to each other, left them together, and hastened at length to
satisfy the anxious curiosity of her friend Mary, by giving her a full
account of all the circumstances that had led to the happy change in her
prospects.
Her tale was listened to with unbroken attention, and when it was ended
Miss Peters exclaimed--
"Now then, I forgive you, Agnes, and only now, for not returning the
love of that very pleasant person Frederick Stephenson; ... for I do
believe it is nearly impossible for a young lady to be in love with two
gentlemen at once, and I now perceive beyond the shadow of a doubt, that
the superb colonel turned your head from the very first moment that you
looked ... not up on, but up to him. How very strange it is," she
continued, "that I should never have suspected the cause of that
remarkable refusal!... I imagine my dulness arose from my humility; I
was conscious myself that I should quite as soon have taken the liberty
of falling in love with the autocrat of all the Russias, as with Colonel
Hubert, and it therefore never occurred to me that you could be guilty
of such audacity; nevertheless, I will not deny that he is a husband to
be proud of ... and so I wish you joy heartily.... But do tell me," she
added after a moment's meditation, "how you mean to manage about Mr.
Stephenson?... Your first meeting will be rather awkward, will it not?"
"I fear so," replied Agnes, gravely. "But there is no help for it, and I
must get over it as well as I can ... fortunately none of the family
have the slightest idea of any such thing, and I hope they never will."
"I hope so, too, dear. But it would be very unpleasant, would it not?
if, upon hearing what is going on, he were to burst in among you, and
insist upon shooting Colonel Hubert."
This was said playfully, and without a shadow of serious meaning; but it
rendered Agnes extremely uneasy, and it required some skill and
perseverance on the part of Miss Peters to remove the effect of what she
had said. There were, however, too many pleasant points of discourse
among the multitude of subjects before them, for her young spirits to
cling long to the only one that seemed capable of giving her pain, and
on the whole their long and uninterrupted conference was highly
gratifying to them both.
While this was going on in Rodney Place, something of the same kind, but
without any drawback at all, was proceeding in the Mall, between the two
old ladies, the result of which may be given more shortly by relating
what passed between Lady Elizabeth and her nephew afterwards, than by
following them through the whole of their very interesting, but somewhat
desultory conversation.
Colonel Hubert was awaiting the return of his aunt with much anxiety; an
anxiety, by the way, which proceeded wholly from the fear that what she
might have to report should prove his Agnes to be _un meilleur parti_
than he wished to find her. This singular species of uneasiness was in
no degree lessened by the aspect of the old lady as she entered the
drawing-room in which he was waiting to receive her.
"This is a very singular romance, Montague, as ever I remember to have
heard of," she began. "Here is this pretty creature, who was introduced
to us as niece and adopted child, as I fancied, of the vulgarest and
most atrociously absurd woman in England, without money or wit enough to
keep her out of jail, and now she turns out to be a young lady of large
fortune, perfectly well educated, and well descended on both sides of
her house ... and all this, too, without any legerdemain, _denouements_,
or discoveries.... I wish you joy heartily, Montague.... Her fortune is
exactly what was wanted to make yours comfortable ... she has fifteen
hundred a year, part of which is, by Miss Compton's account, a very
improvable estate in Devonshire;--but I suspect the old lady will like
to give a name to your second son, or should you have no second son, to
a daughter. Nor can I blame her for this. By her account, Compton of
Compton Basett has endured long enough in the land to render the wish
that it should not pass away a very reasonable one; especially for the
person who holds, and has to bequeath the estate, to which it has for
centuries been annexed; so that point, I presume, you will not cavil at.
You must take care, however, that the liberal-minded old gentlewoman, in
making this noble settlement on her niece, does not leave herself too
bare.... She talked of the _trifle_ that would follow at her death....
This ought not to be a trifle, and were I you, Montague, I would insist
that the amount settled on Agnes at your marriage should not exceed one
thousand a-year.... This, with the next step in your profession, will
make your income a very sufficient one, even without the regiment which
you have such fair reason to hope for."
During the whole of this harangue, Colonel Hubert was suffering very
severely; till by the time her ladyship had concluded, his imagination
became so morbidly alive, that he almost fancied himself already in the
presence of his injured friend ... he fancied him hastening home to be a
witness at his marriage, and gazing with a cold reproachful eye as the
beauty, the wealth, the connexions of Agnes were all shewn to be exactly
what his friends would have approved for him, had not a false, a base,
an interested adviser, contrived to render vain his generous and
honourable love, that he might win the precious prize himself.
What a picture was this for such a mind as Hubert's to contemplate!...
Had not Lady Elizabeth been exceedingly occupied by the curious and
unexpected discoveries she had made concerning the race and the rents of
the Comptons, she must have perceived how greatly the effect of her
statement was the reverse of pleasurable to her auditor; but in truth
her attention was not fixed upon him, but upon Miss Compton, whom she
considered as one of the most remarkable originals she had ever met
with, and ceased not to congratulate herself upon the happy chance which
had turned her yielding kindness to her nephew into a source of so much
interesting speculation to herself.... Receiving no answer to the speech
she had made, she added very good-humouredly,--
"That's all, Mr. Benedict.... Now you may depart to look for the young
lady, and you may tell her, if you please, that upon the whole I very
much doubt if the united kingdoms might not be ransacked through,
without finding any one I should more completely approve in all ways as
the wife of Montague Hubert.... Poor Sir Edward!... How he will wish
that all his anxieties respecting his hare-brained brother had been
brought to a termination by the young man's having had the wit to fall
in love with this sweet girl instead of you; ... but I doubt if
Frederick Stephenson has sufficient taste and refinement of mind to
appreciate such a girl as Agnes.... He probably overlooked her
altogether, or perhaps amused himself more by quizzing the absurdities
of the aunt, than by paying any particular attention to her delicate and
unobtrusive niece. It required such a mind as yours, Montague, to
overcome all the apparent obstacles and objections with which she was
surrounded.... I honour you for it, and so, perhaps, will your
giddy-headed friend too, when he comes to know her. She is a gem that we
shall all have reason to be proud of."
Colonel Hubert could bear no more, but muttering something about wishing
immediately to write letters, he hurried out of the room, and shut
himself into the parlour which had been appropriated to his morning use.
Without giving himself time to think very deliberately of the
comparative good and evil that might ensue, he seized a pen, and wrote
the following letter to Mr. Stephenson.
"DEAR FREDERICK,
"We parted painfully, and my regard for you is too sincere for
me to endure the idea of meeting again with equal pain. I have
had reason since you left England, to believe, that
notwithstanding the very objectionable manners and conduct of
Mrs. Barnaby, her niece, Miss Willoughby, is in every way
worthy of the attachment, you conceived for her; nay, that her
family and fortune are such as even your brother and sisters
would approve. I will not conceal from you that there are
others who have discovered (though not so early as yourself)
the attractions and the merits of Miss Willoughby; but who can
say, Frederick, that if your early and generous devotion were
made known to her, she might not give you the preference over
those who were less prompt in surrendering their affections
than yourself? If, then, your feelings towards her continue to
be the same as when we parted at our breakfast table at Clifton
... and this I cannot doubt, for Agnes is not formed to be
loved once, and then forgotten ... if you still love her,
Frederick, hasten home, and take the advantage which your early
conceived and unhesitating affection gives you over those who
saw her more than once, before they discovered how important
she was to their happiness.
"Notwithstanding the impatience with which you listened to my
remonstrances on the subject of a connexion with Mrs. Barnaby,
I believe that they were in truth the cause of your abandoning
a pursuit in which your heart was deeply interested; and so
believing, I cannot rest till I have told you that a marriage
with Miss Willoughby no longer involves the necessity of any
personal intercourse with Mrs. Barnaby. They are separated, and
probably for ever.
"Believe me, now and for ever,
"Very faithfully your friend,
"MONTAGUE HUBERT."
The effort necessary for writing and dispatching this letter by the
post, was of service to him; it tended to make him feel more reconciled
to himself, and less impatient under the infliction of hearing the
favoured position of Miss Willoughby descanted upon. But much anxiety,
much suffering, still remained.... How should he again meet Agnes?...
Despite a thousand dear suspicions to the contrary, he could not wholly
conquer the belief that it was her indifference, or some feeling
connected with the disparity of their age, which dictated the
too-well-remembered words.... "I never will be your wife;" and his best
consolation under the terrible idea that he had recalled a rival to
compete with him, arose from feeling that if, when his own proposals and
those of Frederick were both before her, she should bestow herself on
him, he might and must believe that, spite of his thirty-five years, she
loved him; ... but though he hailed such comfort as might be got from
this, it could not enable him to see Agnes, while this uncertainty
remained, without such a degree of restraint as must convert all
intercourse with her into misery.
Agnes meanwhile was indulging herself with all the happy confidence of
youthful friendship in relating to her friend everything that had
happened since they parted, and returned to the Mall soon after Lady
Elizabeth had left it, with a heart glowing with love, gratitude, hope,
and joy. The narrative with which Miss Compton welcomed her, was just
all she wished and expected; and when told that the evening was to be
passed at the lodgings of Lady Elizabeth Norris, she thanked the
delighted old lady for the intelligence with a kiss that spoke her
gladness better than any words could have done.
The evening came, and found the aunt and niece ready to keep their
engagement, with such an equality of happiness expressed in the
countenance of each, as might leave it doubtful which enjoyed the
prospect of it the most. The pretty dress of Agnes, with all its
simplicity, was rather more studied than usual; and it was the
consciousness of this, perhaps, which occasioned her to blush so
beautifully when Miss Compton made her a laughing compliment upon the
delicate style of it....
"You look like a lily, my Agnes!" said the old lady, gazing at her with
fond admiration. "You have certainly got very tired of black, my dear
child, for I perceive that whenever you wish to look very nice, you
select unmixed white for your decoration."
"I think it best expresses the change in my condition," replied Agnes.
"Oh! my dear aunt, ... how _very, very_ happy you have made me!"
Nothing could be more gratifying than the manner in which they were
received by Lady Elizabeth, Lady Stephenson, and Sir Edward; ... but
Colonel Hubert was not in the drawing-room when they entered. For a
short time, however, his absence was not regretted, even by Agnes, as
she was not sorry for the opportunity it gave her of receiving the
affectionate congratulations of her future sister, and it was with a
feeling likely to produce much lasting love between them, that the one
related, and the other listened to, the history of Colonel Hubert's
return from London, of his first bold avowal of his love to his aunt,
and of the comfort he had found in the reception given to this avowal by
Lady Stephenson herself; ... but still Colonel Hubert came not; and at
length Lady Elizabeth exclaimed, with a spice of her usual vivacity,...
"Upon my word, I believe that Montague is writing an account of his
felicity to every officer in the British army.... He darted out of the
room this morning before I had half finished what I had to say to
him.... He hardly spoke three words while dinner lasted, and off he was
again as soon as the cloth was removed, and each time something about
writing letters was the only intelligible words I got from him.... I
wish you would go, Sir Edward, and see if he is writing letters now, ...
and I will ring for tea.... I mean to make Montague sing to-night with
Agnes. Emily has taken care that you should have a good piano, my
dear ... and you must take care that, while I stay here, I have music
enough to make up for the loss of my menagerie, ... for I don't think
I shall begin collecting again just yet."
Sir Edward obeyed the old lady's wishes, and when the tea was half over,
returned with his brother-in-law. This was the first time that Colonel
Hubert had been seen by Miss Compton, and the moment was not a
favourable one for removing the idea which she had originally conceived,
of his being too old for the lover and husband of her beautiful niece.
He was looking pale, harassed, and fatigued; but while Agnes feared only
that he might be unwell, her aunt, though she could not deny that he was
a gentleman of a most noble presence, (it was thus she expressed herself
in speaking of him to Mrs. Peters,) thought that it was strange so young
a girl should have fixed her fancy upon him, in preference to all the
world beside. In fact, Miss Compton's notions of a lover being drawn
solely from the imaginary models she had made acquaintance with among
her bees and flowers, she would have been better pleased to see a
bright-eyed youth of twenty-one as the hero of her own romance, than the
dignified but melancholy man who now stood before her. Having received
his salutation, and returned it with that tone and look of intelligent
cheerfulness which redeemed all she said from any imputation of want of
polish, or deficiency of high-bred elegance, she turned her eyes on the
face of Agnes, and there she read such speaking testimony of love and
admiration, that all her romantic wishes for her perfect bliss were
satisfied; and following the direction of those speaking eyes, and once
more examining the features and person of Hubert, she satisfied herself
by the conviction, that if not young, he was supremely elegant; and that
if his complexion had lost its bloom, his manners had attained a degree
of dignity superior, as she thought, to anything described among the
young gentlemen whose images were familiar to her imagination.
It was slowly that Colonel Hubert approached Agnes, and mournfully that
he gazed upon her; but there was to her feelings a pleasure in his
presence, which for a long time prevented her being fully conscious that
he, on his part, was not so happy as she had hoped it was in her power
to make him. By degrees, however, the conviction of this sad truth made
its way to her heart, and from that moment her joy and gladness faded,
drooped, and died away, like a flower into which a gnawing worm has
found its way, and nestled in the very core. This did not happen on this
first evening of their meeting under the roof of Lady Elizabeth, for
Agnes indulged her with every song she desired to hear. Lady Stephenson
sang too, nor could Colonel Hubert refuse to join them, so that to the
unsuspicious Agnes that evening seemed delightful; but a silent,
melancholy walk on the following morning, made her ask herself where was
the ardent love for which he had pleaded in Half-Moon Street?... Had she
mistaken him when he said that his happiness depended wholly on her?...
And if not, what was it had turned him thus to stone?
Poor Agnes!... she could have no confident in this new sorrow. Her aunt
Compton and her friend Mary had both spoken of him as too old to be a
lover; and did she breathe to either a fear that his affection had
already grown cold, might they not tell her that it was but natural?...
Such words she thought would break her heart, for every hour he became
dearer to her than before, as she saw he was unhappy; and, thinking more
of him than of herself, mourned more for his sorrow, of which she knew
nothing, than for her own, though it was rapidly undermining her health
and destroying her bloom.