If Lady Pelham repined at the desertion of the Herberts, it was not
because their departure consigned her to solitude. Never had Walbourne
attracted so many visitors. Lady Pelham's beautiful niece drew thither
all the gentlemen of the neighbourhood. The ladies followed them of
course. The beauty and modesty of Laura charmed the men, while the women
were half-inclined to think it an unfounded slander that such a
good-natured, obliging, neat-handed creature studied mathematics, and
read Tacitus in the original.
Among the society to which she was introduced by Lady Pelham, and still
more among that in which she mingled at Norwood, Laura met with persons
of distinguished ability, rank, and politeness. In such company she
rapidly acquired that ease of address which alone was wanting to make
her manners as fascinating as they were correct. She grew accustomed to
find herself the object of attention, and though no habit could
reconcile her to the gaze of numbers, she gradually learnt to carry into
these lesser occasions, the self-command which distinguished her in more
important concerns. In real modesty and humility she improved every day;
for it was the study of her life to improve in them. She retained all
the timidity which is the fruit of genuine sensibility and quick
perception of impropriety, while she lost that bashfulness which owes
its growth to solitude and inexperience. Her personal charms, too,
increased as they approached maturity. The symmetry of her form and
features was indeed scarcely susceptible of improvement; but added
gracefulness gave new attractions to her figure; while the soul lent its
improving strength and brightness to animate her face with charms which
mere symmetry knows not.
With such qualifications Laura could not fail to excite admiration; yet
never perhaps did beauty so seldom listen to its own praises. It was
labour lost to compliment one who never rewarded the flatterer with one
smile of gratified vanity, or repaid him with one complaisant departure
from the simple truth. To the everyday nothings of the common herd she
listened with a weariness which politeness could sometimes scarcely
suppress. 'Oh would,' thought she, 'that civil nothings, as they are
called, required no answer,--or that one obliging gentleman would
undertake the labour of replying to the rest!' If addressed in the
language of common-place compliment by one whom she respected, her look
of mortification intelligibly said, 'Has then your penetration searched
me deeper than I know myself, and detected in me the more than childish
weakness of valuing myself on such distinctions as those you are
praising?'
Laura had no personal vanity; and therefore it required no effort to
withstand such praise. She had more merit in the more strenuous but less
successful exertions which she made to resist the silent flattery of the
respectful glance that awaited her decision, besought her approbation,
or reflected her sentiments. Sometimes she thought Montague De Courcy an
adept in this sort of flattery. But more frequently, when administered
by him, she forgot to call it by that name; and she was the less upon
her guard against his homage, because it was never offered in any more
palpable form.
Fortified by the advice of his mother, who had convinced him that a
premature disclosure of his sentiments would be fatal to his hopes, and
aware, that were he even successful with Laura, some further provision
must be made for his sister, ere he could with justice increase the
expence of his household, he acted with such caution as baffled the
penetration of common observers. The neighbouring tea-tables were rather
inclined to consign his affections to a lively young heiress, whose
estate had formerly been dismembered from that of Norwood; for he had
flirted with her at a review, and danced with her at the county ball.
Moreover, the charitable declared, 'that if he was backward it was not
for want of encouragement, that Miss allowed herself strange liberties;
though, to be sure, heiresses might do any thing.'
In spite of the lynx eye in detecting embryo passion, which is ascribed
to the sex, Montague's secret was safe even from Laura herself; or if a
momentary suspicion had glanced across her mind, she chid it away with
self accusations of vanity, and recollections of the ten thousand
opportunities for a declaration which he had suffered to pass
unimproved. Besides, Mrs De Courcy had once hinted that Montague's
little fits of melancholy and absence were occasioned by his partiality
for a lady whose affections were pre-engaged, and Laura was sure that
the hint could not refer to herself. Her humiliating secret, she was
thankful, was safely lodged in her own breast, and could never be
divulged to cover her with mortification.
That which any effort of imagination can ascribe to the influence of
Cupid, no woman ever attributed to any other power; and if, at any time,
a shade crossed the open countenance of Montague, Laura called to mind
his mother's hint, and added to her truly sisterly affection a pity
which lent indescribable softness to her manners towards him. Indeed she
always treated him with undisguised regard, and Montague tried to be
satisfied. Yet he could not help longing to read, in some inadvertent
glance, a proof that all the heart was not freely shewn. In vain!--the
heart was open as the day; and all was there that could delight the
friend, but nothing that could satisfy the lover.
He had, however, none of the temptations of jealousy to betray his
secret, for his rivals were neither numerous nor formidable. Laura was
known to have no fortune; she had little talent for chit chat, and still
less for flattery; thus amid universal admiration and general good-will,
she had only two professed adorers--one, who haunted her while present,
toasted her when absent, and raved of her charms, both in prose and
rhime, without ever suffering his pretensions to become so serious as to
afford her a pretext for seriously repulsing them--the other, a prudent
elderly widower, who, being possessed of a good fortune, and a
full-grown daughter, thought himself entitled to consult his taste
without regard to pecuniary views, and conceived that Laura might be
useful to the young lady in the double capacities of companion and
example. Laura's answer to his proposals was a firm but gentle refusal,
while she assured him, that she would not abuse his confidence nor
betray the trust he had reposed in her. Elderly gentlemen are seldom
inclined to publish a repulse. The widower never mentioned his even to
Lady Pelham; and Laura, on this occasion, owed to her principle an
escape from many a tedious remonstrance, and many a covert attack.
The summer had almost glided away, and Montague continued to fluctuate
between hope and fear, his mother to cherish his hopes and allay his
apprehensions, Laura to be tranquil, Harriet to be gay, and Lady Pelham
to exhibit, by turns, every various degree of every various humour, when
one morning Miss De Courcy, who had lately returned from a visit to a
companion, accompanied her brother on horseback to Walbourne. Lady
Pelham was, as usual, engaged in her garden, but the visitors had no
sooner entered the room where Laura sat, then she observed that they
seemed to have exchanged characters. Harriet looked almost thoughtful,
while the countenance of De Courcy sparkled with unusual animation. He
was gay even to restlessness. He offered to give Laura her lesson in
mathematics; and before it was half over, having completely bewildered
both himself and his pupil, he tossed away the book, declaring that he
never in his life was so little fit for thinking. Pleasure spoke in
every tone of his voice, or sported in his eye when he was silent.
After a short visit, enlivened by a hilarity which Laura found more
infectious than the gravity of Harriet, he proposed leaving his sister
with her friend, while he rode on to call for a gentleman in the
neighbourhood. 'Begone, then,' cried Laura, gaily, 'for I long to
question Harriet what has given you such enviable spirits this morning.'
'Ah, she must not betray me,' said De Courcy, half smiling, half
sighing, 'or I forfeit my only chance of being remembered when I am out
of sight. If she can be silent, curiosity may perhaps befriend me.' 'How
very humble!' cried Laura,--'as if curiosity were the only name you
could find for the interest I take in what makes you gay, or Harriet
grave!' 'Dear Laura,' said De Courcy, ardently, 'give the cause what
name you will, if you will but think of me.' Then snatching her lily
hands, he pressed them to his lips, and the next moment was gone.
Confused, surprised, a little displeased, Laura stood silently revolving
his behaviour. He had never before made the slightest approach to
personal familiarity. Had her frankness invited the freedom? 'Dear
Laura!' It was the first time he had ever called her by any name less
respectful than Miss Montreville. 'Well, and what then--it were mere
prudery to be displeased at such a trifle. What,' thought she, 'can have
delighted him so much? Perhaps the lady is kind at last. He need not,
however, have vented his transports upon me.' And Laura was a little
more angry than before.
During her cogitation, Laura forgot that she might apply to her
companion for a solution of the mystery; perhaps she did not even
recollect that Harriet was in the room, till happening to turn her head,
she met a glance of sly inquisition, which, however, was instantly
withdrawn. Harriet made no comment on the subject of her observation.
'The man is as much elated,' cried she, 'as if I were five-and-forty,
and had never had a lover before.'
'You, my dear Harriet,' exclaimed Laura, instantly recovering her good
humour, 'is it a conquest of yours that has pleased Mr De Courcy so
much?' 'Even so,' returned Harriet--'Heigho!'
'I congratulate you: and yet it does not seem to delight you quite so
much as it does your brother.'
'Really Laura I am not sure whether it does or not; so I am come to ask
you.'
'Me! Indeed you have too much confidence in my penetration; but you
have, fortunately, abler, and more natural advisers. Your mother'--
'Oh, my mother is so cautious, so afraid of influencing me! when to be
influenced is the very thing I want. I do hate caution. Then I can't
talk it over with her as I could with you. And then, there's Montague
who looks so provokingly pleased; and yet he pretends to prim up his
mouth, and say, "really it is a subject on which he neither can, nor
ought to give an opinion." Pray, advise me, my dear.'
'What! before I know who the gentleman is; when perhaps you have even no
right to inform me!'
'Pshaw! nonsense.--It is Bolingbroke. But I believe you have never met
with him.' 'So you would have me advise you to marry a man whom I have
never seen; for of course that is the advice you want. Had the balance
lain on the other side, no advice would have been thought necessary.'
'Poh,' cried Harriet pouting. 'I don't want to be advised to marry him.'
'Are you sure,' returned Laura, smiling, 'that you know what you
want.'--'Saucy girl! I would have you tell me whether I am ever likely
to marry him!' 'Do you think I am by birth entitled to the second-sight,
that I should foresee this before I know any thing of the gentleman's
merits, or, what is of more consequence, of their rank in your
estimation?' 'The man has good legs,' said Harriet, plaiting the fingers
of her glove with great industry. 'Legs! really, Harriet, I was in hopes
I had for once found you serious.'--'So I am; my dear; I never was so
serious before, and hope I never shall again. Yet I don't know what to
think; so I shall just tell you honestly how the matter stands, and you
shall think for me.'
'I will not promise that; but I own I have some curiosity to hear your
_honest_ confession.'--'Oh you need not peep so archly askance under
those long eyelashes; I can stand a direct look, I assure you; for at
this moment I have not the slightest preference in the world for
Bolingbroke over half a score of others.' 'Then what room is there for
hesitation?' 'Why, my dear, in the first place, he has a noble fortune:
though that goes for nothing with you; secondly, he is really a good
creature, and far from a fool; then, to talk in your style, I have had
advantages in observing his temper and dispositions such as I shall
never have with any other man; for his sister and I have been companions
from childhood, and I have lived under his roof for months; then, which
will weigh with you more than all, he is Montague's particular
favourite.' 'Great recommendations these, Harriet; sufficient at least
to bias any woman who intends to marry. I should like to know Mr
Bolingbroke.' 'Here is his letter, my dear,' said Harriet; 'it came
inclosed in one to my brother. There is a good deal of the man's turn in
it.'
Laura took the letter, and read as follows:
'I will not wrong your penetration so much as to suppose that
this letter will surprise you, or that you will fail to
anticipate the subject on the first glance at the signature.
Nor do I write to tell you, in the hackneyed phrase, that the
happiness of my whole life depends upon you, because, next to
your affection, nothing is so desirable to me as your esteem,
and the hope that, though you should reject my suit, you will
continue to respect my understanding. But I may with truth
declare, that I prefer you to all women; that I love you, not
only in spite of your faults, but, perhaps, even the more for
them; and that, to forfeit the hope of your affection, would
dispel many a long-cherished vision of domestic peace, and even
some lighter dreams of rapture. Dearest Harriet, do not, in
return for this confession, write me a cold profession of
esteem. I know already that you esteem me, for you have long
known me possessed of qualities that inevitably engage esteem;
but I am conscious of a deficiency in the gifts that excite
passion, and I dread that I may never awaken sentiments like
those I feel. Yet it is no small compliment which I offer, when
I suppose you superior to the attractions which captivate the
vulgar of your sex; and you may value it the more, because it
is perhaps the only one I shall ever pay you.
'To say all this, or something like it, has long been in my
thoughts; and, during your late visit to my sister, occupied
them more than I shall own; but a dread of I know not what,
forced me to let you depart without offering to your acceptance
all that I have to offer. I felt a certainty that I was not
yet beloved, and, I believe I feared that you, in your lively
way, (so I must call it, since no epithet that implies reproof
must flow from a lover's pen), would give utterance to the
feeling of the moment, and bid me think of you no more. Is it
presumption to say, that I hope more from a more considerate
decision? Ask your own heart, then, dear Miss De Courcy,
whether time and the assiduities of respectful love can beguile
you of such tenderness as is due to a confiding affectionate
husband. Ask yourself, whether you can ever return my warm
attachment, to such a degree as will make the duties of a wife
easy and pleasant to you. I need not assure you that I am not
the selfish wretch who could find joy in receiving those which
were painfully and reluctantly performed. Be candid with
yourself then I adjure you. Fear not that I shall persecute you
with importunity or complaint. If it must be so, I will see you
no more for some months; and, at the end of that time, shall
expect, in reward of my self-conquest, to be received with
cordiality as your brother's friend. If your sentence be
against me, save yourself the pain of telling me so; for I know
that it must be painful to you. Yet judge of the strength of
that regard which is thus anxious to shield you from
uneasiness, at the moment when it anticipates such pain from
your hands. If you can give me hope (and, observe, when I say
hope, I do not mean certainty), do not tax your delicacy for
studied phrases of acceptance, but write me even a common card
of invitation to Norwood, and the tenderest billet that ever
was penned by woman, never gave more pleasure than it will
bring to your very affectionate and obedient servant,
'EDWARD BOLINGBROKE.'
Laura could not help smiling at the composed style of this epistle, so
different from the only ones of its kind with which she was conversant.
A lover confess that his mistress had faults, and that he was sensible
of them!--insinuate that he expected not only duty, but willing and
grateful duty from his wife!--have the boldness to expect, that, if his
passion were unsuccessful, he should quickly be able to conquer it!
Laura felt no inclination to envy her friend a lover so fully in the
exercise of his judgment and foresight; but she was pleased with the
plain honest rationality of the letter; and, with the materials before
her, immediately busied her imagination in its favourite work of
sketching and adorning character.
She was called from her meditation by another petition for advice. 'You
see,' said Harriet, 'he pretends not to expect certainty; but it is much
the same whether one run one's neck into the noose, or gets entangled so
that one can't decently get off. If I could _creditably_ contrive to
keep him dangling till I had made up my mind,' continued she,
illustrating the metaphor with her watch-chain. 'Do assist me, my dear;
I am sure you have managed a dozen of them in your time.'
'My experience is not so extensive,' replied Laura, 'and I can really
assist you to no _creditable_ method of trifling.'
'You would not have me resolve to marry a man whom I don't care a
farthing for.' 'No, indeed! but I think Mr Bolingbroke would have a
right to complain, if you gave hopes which you did not fulfil.' 'You
would have me dismiss him at once then?' 'By no means; but I would have
you think for yourself on a subject of which no other person can judge;
and remember, my dear, that, as your decision has neither been wrested
from you by surprise, nor seduced from you by persuasion, you have no
excuse for forming a weak or wavering resolution.'
Determined that on such a subject she would deliver no opinion, Laura
was relieved from some embarrassment by the return of De Courcy. His
reflections during his ride had effectually quelled the exuberance of
his spirits, and he endeavoured to repair his unguardedness by distant
politeness. His manner increased the feeling of restraint of which Laura
could not at that time divest herself; and after a short and constrained
sequel to a visit which had begun so differently, Montague hurried his
sister away.
'I shall never conquer her indifference,' said he to his mother, after
relating the folly of the morning. 'Had you seen her frozen look of
displeasure, you would have been convinced.' 'And how, my dear Montague,
could you expect Miss Montreville to receive such freedom? like a little
village coquette gasping at the prospect of a first lover? If you are
convinced that your secret would still be heard without pleasure, you
must redouble your caution to preserve it. But suffer me to warn you
against the extreme of reserve in which I have sometimes observed that
you are apt to fall. It can only confirm suspicions if they are excited;
if not, it will disgust by an appearance of caprice.'
Montague promised to be guarded; and withdrew to seek in his laboratory
a refuge from despondence. Those who pursue worldly gains and vulgar
pleasures, must cheerlessly toil on, waiting for their reward till their
end is attained; but the pursuits of science and of virtue have this
advantage peculiar to themselves, that there is reward in the labour,
even though the success be only partial; and, in half an hour, all
Montague's cares were absorbed in the muriatic acid. In a few days he
again saw Laura, and her sunny smile of welcome revived hopes which she
little thought of fulfilling.
When a woman of ordinary delicacy is brought to hesitate upon the
proposal of a lover, it is easy, provided prudence be on his side, to
conjecture how the balance will turn. Mr Bolingbroke received his card
of invitation to Norwood; and his suit advanced prosperously, though
slowly. He was a plain unpretending man, seven years at least beyond
excuse for any youthful indiscretion, habitually silent, though sure of
commanding attention when he spoke. The perfect fairness and integrity
of his mind had secured him the respect of all his acquaintance in a
degree which he appeared to have precisely estimated, and he never
seemed to expect less or to exact more. His calm unobtrusive manners
never captivated a stranger, nor gave offence to an intimate. He was
kind and generous to a sister, who, twenty years before, had succeeded
as his play-thing to tops and marbles; and uniformly respectful to a
maiden aunt who had, about the same date, replaced his mother as
directress of the family.
His father had been long dead, and in consequence of his steady
resistance of all the batteries of charms opened against him, or rather
against his £7000 a-year, the ladies had begun to shake their heads, and
pronounce him a determined bachelor. But, notwithstanding their
decision, Mr Bolingbroke was resolved to marry, for he considered
marriage as one of the duties of his station.
Harriet amused, became customary, pleasing, necessary, to him. 'Our
dissimilarity will assist us to correct each other's failings,' thought
he, and his choice was fixed. He was aware that a grave elderly man
might find some difficulty in attaching a volatile girl; and though he
could not condescend to flatter even his mistress, he was assiduous to
please. He bestowed an infinity of little attentions, which were the
more gratifying, because, from a man of his temper, they were wholly
unexpected. His books, his horses, his carriage, waited but a
half-expressed wish. He planned little excursions and parties of
pleasure, or contrived to add some agreeable surprise to those which
were proposed by others. Far from shewing any paltry jealousy, he
treated Miss De Courcy's favourites of both sexes with distinguished
politeness; and perhaps he owed his success with a heart which had
withstood more attractive admirers, partly to the agreeable
associations which he found means to raise, partly to vanity, pleased
with power over the philosophic Mr Bolingbroke.
Montague watched the progress of his friend with keen interest, but he
conscientiously avoided influencing Harriet's decision. On the contrary,
lest the dread of future dependence should weigh with her, he informed
her, that, should she prefer a single life, or should other
circumstances render such a sum important to her, he was determined to
double the little fortune he had already given.
While he was anxious to see his sister's happiness secured by her union
with an estimable man, he felt that her marriage with Mr Bolingbroke
would immediately remove one grand obstacle to his own wishes; for the
little dower which he was determined ere he settled in life to save for
Harriet, would form an addition altogether insignificant to the splendid
settlement which was now in her power. There was nothing Quixotic in the
justice and generosity of De Courcy; and he had no intention of
incurring real difficulty and privation for the sake of adding a trifle
to the stores of affluence. He therefore considered his sister's
marriage as leaving him at full liberty to pursue his inclinations with
regard to Laura, if the time should ever arrive when he could declare
them without hazarding the forfeiture of even his present stinted
measure of favour.