A melancholy, grounded and resolved
Received into a habit argues love,
Or deep impression of strong discontents.
THE LADY'S TRIAL.
Since my coming home I have found
More sweets in one unprofitable dream
Than in my life's whole pilgrimage.
SUN'S DARLING.
Now Mr. Haveloc was at this time enjoying the delightful consciousness
that he had been making a great simpleton of himself; but this is a
state of feeling which indicates some superiority of character; for your
common people when they have been exposing themselves to the derision of
all their acquaintance, generally parade themselves with all the dignity
of a peacock, and feel convinced that they have been behaving with
singular discretion. This state of feeling was agreeably relieved by the
knowledge that people had said a great many things of him which were
untrue, and which were particularly exasperating to a person of his
temperament.
They had filled up the outline of his attentions to Mrs. Maxwell
Dorset--attentions far more marked than was consistent with
propriety--by a variety of incidents, extremely wrong, but, which was
much worse in his eyes, exceedingly ridiculous. They had exaggerated the
regard which the lady had abundantly professed for him into an idolatry
that was painfully absurd; and they invented a narrative of an
unsuccessful attempt on his part to carry her off, which drove him from
Florence, and very nearly frantic into the bargain. As he returned to
his senses, he contemplated Mrs. Maxwell Dorset with unmixed contempt
and disgust. Very exacting and fastidious in his ideas of women, he
could imagine nothing more opposed to all his demands of female
delicacy and dignity, than this woman, who had for a time blinded him by
her flattery, and her foolish and criminal preference. He was angry with
her, and still more angry with himself, and yet more enraged against
society at large for the unceremonious manner in which they had
discoursed of his proceedings; and his feelings of dissatisfaction on
the subject were by no means diminished by the knowledge that he was not
the first person by very many whom her artifices had enslaved. This fact
which of course reached his ears when it was too late--for your friends
never tell you of a thing when you might profit by it--in divesting her
attachment of the complimentary aspect it might otherwise have worn,
opened his eyes more effectually than a score of homilies could have
done.
In this happy frame of mind, he came to Ashdale, thinking that it would
be a relief to plunge into solitude with his friend, Mr. Grey. He was
very much annoyed to find that Margaret was residing with her uncle; but
Mr. Grey pressed him so warmly to take up his abode with him for a time,
that he hardly knew how to decline his hospitality. He could scarcely
tell Mr. Grey that he detested the idea of remaining under the same roof
with his niece. It was a great relief to him when he found that Margaret
was entirely different from any young lady he had ever seen. She never
entered into conversation with him, and never, if she could help it,
remained in the room with him for a single moment. He began to be
disappointed that she invariably stole out after her uncle as he left
the breakfast-table, and came down into the drawing-room exactly as the
bell rang for dinner. He became more and more struck with her beauty and
her simplicity, and he felt a curiosity to know whether her intellect at
all responded to the beautiful countenance which varied with every shade
of thought that floated through her mind.
It so happened that he was not able to pursue his investigations for
some time, for some affair of business required his immediate return to
his own home. He mentioned this to Mr. Grey as they were standing round
the fire just before dinner, and would have given much to have seen
Margaret's face at the moment.
It was too late when they took their places at the table to hope that
any expression of emotion, or surprise would be visible. Indeed it was
not being quite so reasonable as men ought to be upon those subjects, to
expect that she should regret the departure of a visitor, who, though
perfectly courteous to her, had been remarkably deficient in those
attentions which a beautiful girl might almost expect from one of the
other sex. In fact, Margaret was exceedingly glad to hear the news. She
felt that among other advantages, the library would be no longer
forbidden-ground to her. She would again be able to loiter among the
books and maps, instead of carrying those volumes she wished to read
into her own room, and sending them back by Land when she had done.
Mr. Haveloc was always in the library, reading or writing, which was one
of his most serious offences in her eyes. As for her attempting to
attract or interest him, she would have considered such a thing as
seriously and entirely out of the question. She knew very well that the
girls at school would have called him a capital match, and she knew also
that there would have been no end to their jests if they had heard that
she was staying in the house with so desirable an article of property as
a rich young man. But Margaret was romantic. She thought him very much
in the way; and she was rather shocked that any one so immoral should
help her to salad, or to orange-jelly.
"The Somertons are come back, Claude," said Mr. Grey; "I wish you were
not going away just now. They always make the place gay."
"Thank you, Sir," returned Mr. Haveloc, "I dare say I shall not much
regret losing the Somertons."
"Let me see," continued Mr. Grey, "Blanche must have been about sixteen
when you left England."
"Very likely, Sir, I never attempt to guess a lady's age."
"I hardly know," said Mr. Grey, musing over his scalloped oysters,
"which of them is considered the beauty; but I rather think it is
Blanche."
"Oh both, my dear Sir," replied Mr. Haveloc, "Mrs. Somerton tells
everybody that each of her daughters is the belle of whatever place they
may be staying at."
"A great satisfaction to their mother, I am sure," said Mr. Grey, never
dreaming that there was anything like satire in Mr. Haveloc's remark;
"and very nice companions they will be to my little niece during the
summer; perhaps we may prevail on Mrs. Somerton to spare one of her
daughters sometimes to stay here for a week or two."
Mr. Haveloc knit his brows, and looked so much discomposed at this
proposition that Margaret was perfectly astonished. How could it concern
him if her uncle succeeded in obtaining a companion for her? Some of the
wonder she felt must have made itself very visible in her face, for he
turned and said to her in a constrained voice, "I hope you will find
much enjoyment in the society of the Miss Somertons."
"I shall like to know them," said Margaret quietly, "but Miss Gage is
kind enough to prevent my ever feeling the want of society."
"Very kind she is," said Mr. Grey; "but my love, I know young people
like to be together; now, Blanche is hardly a year older than you are."
"You see," said Mr. Haveloc smiling, "that you are fated to become
intimate with the Somertons."
Margaret smiled too. She recollected that at school she had made no one
intimacy; and she thought it was very easily avoided with any person
whom you did not completely approve--especially if you did not live
under the same roof.
Nothing more was said during dinner; but in the evening when Margaret
was making tea, and her uncle dozing in his arm-chair, Mr. Haveloc,
contrary to his custom, took a chair next to her's, and after a short
pause--for the subject was rather embarrassing--said, "I am afraid you
thought me guilty of some rudeness at dinner in allowing you to perceive
the surprise I felt at your uncle's proposition. I am aware that I have
no right to interest myself in your affairs."
It would have been difficult to convince any body of the extent of
Margaret's shyness, for she had the advantage of a very self-possessed
manner; therefore, though her heart seemed dying within her, at the
effort of making a reply to such a speech, her sweet voice was as calm
as ever, when she answered:
"I did not think you rude at all, Mr. Haveloc, for you said nothing; and
it would be hard indeed to deny people the free exercise of their
thoughts."
"Thank you," said Mr. Haveloc with energy. "I will not be so
presumptuous as to offer you any advice; but I hope you will allow me to
recommend that you ask Miss Gage her candid opinion of those young
ladies. She is so much your friend, that I believe she will have no
hesitation in giving it."
"I will, indeed," said Margaret, "you could not have given me better
advice."
She smiled and blushed as she spoke, and looked so very lovely, that it
was no wonder Mr. Haveloc retained his chair, and made some attempt to
draw her into conversation.
Mr. Grey woke up, took his cup of tea, and looked very much pleased to
see them talking together, although no two strangers could carry on a
more distant and disjointed discourse. He so completely recognized
Margaret as a child, that his fancy never suggested to him the
possibility of a future attachment being formed between his favourite
ward and his beautiful little niece. He merely thought to himself that
if Claude would but brighten up a little, and forget all that Italian
business, it would make the evenings much more cheerful for poor
Margaret.
His musings were interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Casement, whose "old
woman," as he informed Mr. Grey, had two or three village gossips to
drink tea with her, and therefore he had been driven out this miserable
night to take his chance of a cup of coffee, and a game of piquet with
his friend, Mr. Grey.
"And glad enough you must be to see me," he remarked, "for I suppose
these two young people chatter together, and leave you to count the
bars of the grate all the evening."
Mr. Grey eagerly disclaimed being ever left to the consoling occupation
suggested by his friend.
"Never," he said, "were there kinder or more attentive companions than
Claude Haveloc and his niece."
Margaret rang for more coffee, and made up her mind with a look of calm
endurance to pass a disagreeable evening. Among other annoyances to her,
Mr. Casement was very fond of music, and always insisted on her playing
to him while he was engaged at cards.
Mr. Haveloc, highly indignant at being accused of chattering, flung
himself into an arm-chair at another table; begged Margaret's pardon
when she half rose to give Mr. Casement his cup, made some show of
taking it from her, and then threw himself back in his chair with the
Quarterly Review in his hand, and a very tolerable share of contempt in
his features.
Then Mr. Casement managed to teaze Margaret by asking her to play 'The
Roast Beef of Old England;' or, 'The Girl I left behind me;' airs that
she had never heard of; and by turning into ridicule the names and
compositions of Doehler and Moscheles, with whose works she was
familiar. And every now and then he looked up from his game, and asked
Mr. Haveloc what he was about, that he did not turn over the young
lady's book, and praise her music; until at last Margaret left the piano
in a great pet, and sat down to her netting.
"Well, now, little woman," said Mr. Casement, as soon as he had won his
game, "how do you get on with Hubert Gage?"
Mr. Haveloc's eyes were full upon her, and she felt the question to be
embarrassing. She blushed, indeed, but she drew herself up, and replied
that she got on with him quite well enough. Her acquaintance was with
his sister.
"And this young spark, too," said Mr. Casement, turning to Mr. Haveloc.
"What! you are letting him slip through your fingers? He goes away
to-morrow, I hear." Margaret, changing from red to white, persevered
with her netting. Mr. Haveloc dashed his book down on the table, and
stalked out of the room; muttering something as he went about "the
greatest bore in existence;" and Mr. Grey began a gentle remonstrance
with his friend on the impropriety of talking in such a manner to young
people.
"They don't like it, Casement. These jokes never please the parties
concerned. There's Claude gone out of the room in a rage, and my poor
little Margaret seems disposed to go out of the room after him."
"I think," said Mr. Casement, with a chuckling laugh, "I tell you what,
in my young days, the fancies of old people were to be consulted. Now,
we have nothing to do but to think how we can please the young ones."
"Nobody can accuse you of that, Mr. Casement," said Margaret, who had
taken refuge by the side of Mr. Grey.
"Egad, that's true enough, Miss Peggy," returned Mr. Casement. "No one
shall ever tax me with helping to spoil the rising generation."
Mr. Grey said he was no advocate for spoiling people; but he really
could not see why such silly remarks should be made on persons; that
Claude Haveloc did not like to be the subject of Mr. Casement's
raillery, and therefore he did hope--
"Why," interrupted Mr. Casement, "the remark, as you call it, that made
Master Claude bounce out of the room in such tragedy fashion, was
addressed to this little woman here. I asked her, as any body would, how
she could let such a sweet-tempered, well-behaved young gentleman slip
through her fingers."
"Well--well--the child does not like it;" said Mr. Grey, rather shortly.
"Beg your pardon. Miss Peggy, like other young ladies, has no sort of
objection to a hint of that kind. But you don't relish it, that is very
plain; so I'll mind my manners for the present, at least. Hadn't you
better step out to the young man, my dear, and say that it's all right,
and he may come back again?"
Angry as Margaret was, she could not help smiling at the idea of being
sent out to call Mr. Haveloc back like a child. She was very angry,
however, and said, that she supposed Mr. Haveloc would return when he
chose; but that she imagined few people would be longer than they could
help in Mr. Casement's society.
"She is too sharp for you, Casement;" said Mr. Grey, laughing.
"I have raised a hornet's nest about my ears, I think," said Mr.
Casement, laughing in his turn. "I did not know the child had so much
spirit. Well, my old woman, will be on the look out for me, so I will
wish you good evening."
As soon as the door closed on his friend, Mr. Grey began to find all the
excuses he could for his rudeness. Nobody, he affirmed, had a better
heart than Mr. Casement, although his manners might lead a good many
people to doubt the fact. He was sure that if any body was in distress,
Mr. Casement would do them a kindness if he could; and, after all, that
was the main point--the disposition was of more importance than the
manner.
Margaret was quite ready to admit the truth of this observation; she
merely asked, casually, "whether Mr. Casement had been ever known to
relieve anybody, because there is always opportunity to show kindness
among the poor, if people are inclined to do it."
Mr. Grey said, "he did not know any particular instance of Mr.
Casement's good works; but he was not the less convinced that he had the
disposition to be kind."
Margaret smiled, and kept her own opinion in silence.
Mr. Haveloc returned to the room soon after;--replied to some qualifying
remark of Mr. Grey's, that Mr. Casement was a pest to society, and
worse than all the plagues of Egypt; and then, taking up his book again,
went on reading with much apparent tranquillity.
Margaret continued her netting by the fire-side, and seemed to be quite
unconscious of his presence. Mr. Grey, satisfied that the storm had
blown over, soon went to sleep, which he frequently did, until roused by
the entrance of Land with the candlesticks and a great bunch of keys.
Suddenly Mr. Haveloc started forward, and picked up a mesh which had
fallen from Margaret's work-box. She had been so much accustomed to all
those attentions from him, which do not involve any speaking, that this
sudden movement did not surprise her. She took her mesh, bowed her head
in silence, and went on with her work. She really did not know, for some
minutes, that he was leaning on the top of the screen he had placed
between her and the fire, and looking earnestly into her face.
"I hope," he said, as soon as she happened to lift her eyes from her
netting, "I do hope that miserable old man has not annoyed you very
much. I am sure you must feel his vulgarity. If it was not for Mr. Grey,
I--but I am afraid he is rather too old to be thrown out of the window."
"Oh, dear, yes!" said Margaret, frightened at the very idea of such
extreme measures. "I don't very much mind him now, I certainly did, at
first. But my uncle says he has--some--good qualities."
This confession came out slowly, as if she was by no means willing to
admit the possibility of such a thing.
"Mr. Grey has so many good qualities," said Mr. Haveloc, "that he makes
over a few, in imagination, to his neighbours. That is the only way I
can account for such an assertion on his part."
Margaret looked up and laughed at this remark. She had a charming
child-like laugh.
"Perhaps;" said she, after a short pause, "perhaps, in time, he will
leave off teazing me."
"Never!" returned Mr. Haveloc, "never while he has breath."
"Then it can't be helped," said Margaret, with a sigh. "But there is one
comfort, my dear uncle always takes my part."
"Who would not?" muttered Mr. Haveloc.
Margaret did not laugh at this remark. She blushed instead, and busied
herself very earnestly with the beads on her silk.
"You are about something very pretty!" said Mr. Haveloc, bending over
her work.
"It is a great deal of trouble," said Margaret, "but it will look very
well when it is done. It is a purse with beads."
"I am afraid I shall not see it finished," said Mr. Haveloc. "It will be
done, and sent off long before I come back."
"It takes me--oh, let me see!--about a week," said Margaret.
"Not longer? Why you must furnish all your friends with purses."
"But I seldom make them. This is only the second I have made with beads;
one to learn by--and this other, to give to--somebody."
"To Mr. Grey!"
"You cannot be sure of that. It is a very good guess; but I have other
friends. I might mean it for Mr. Warde."
"You glanced at Mr. Grey when you spoke of giving it away."
"Did I, indeed? You should not watch people."
"Is that a general rule? Or only applicable to the present company?"
Margaret laughed, and made no answer.
"Pray, has Mr. Warde begun to teach you Latin yet?" he asked.
"No," said Margaret.
"How is that? Are you afraid of your complexion? I think Mr. Grey
threatened you with premature age, if you meddled with Latin. Did not
he?"
"That is not the reason," said Margaret, "but I am too busy at present."
"I should like very much to know what is your favourite study just now.
Waltzing, I think."
"Waltzing, indeed!" said Margaret; "I could waltz years ago."
"You won't tell me then, what pursuit engrosses you at present; it must
be something mysterious. Judicial astrology?"
Margaret turned away laughing, "I wish first that it was true, and next
that I knew it," she said.
"Would you then like to read the future?" he asked.
"Perhaps not, when it came to the point," she replied.
"What, Land, here already?" said Mr. Grey, waking up at the jingle of
the keys and candlesticks; "who would believe it was eleven o'clock?"
"Not I for one," whispered Mr. Haveloc, as he moved to open the door for
Margaret.
She did not know how it was. She supposed he must have held out his
hand; but she found herself actually shaking hands with him for the
first time.