Though Laura could not escape the attacks of Lady Pelham, she sometimes
found means to elude those of Hargrave. She watched his approach; and
whenever he appeared, intrenched herself in her own apartment. She
confined herself almost entirely to the house, and excused herself from
every visit where she thought he might be of the party. He besieged her
with letters; she sent them back unopened. Lady Pelham commanded her to
be present during his visits; she respectfully, but peremptorily,
refused to comply.
She had thus remained a sort of prisoner for some weeks, when her aunt
one morning entered her room with an aspect which Laura could not well
decipher. 'Well, Miss Montreville,' said she, 'you have at last
accomplished your purpose; your capricious tyranny has prevailed at
last; Colonel Hargrave leaves--this morning.' 'Dear Madam,' cried Laura,
starting up overjoyed, 'what a deliverance!' 'Oh to be sure, mighty
cause you have to congratulate yourself upon a deliverance from a man
who might aspire to the first woman in England! But you will never have
it in your power to throw away such another offer. You need hardly
expect to awaken such another passion.'
'I hope, with all my heart, I shall not; but are you certain he will
go?' 'Oh, very certain. He has written to tell me so!' 'I trust he will
keep his word,' said Laura; 'and when I am sure he is gone, I will beg
of your Ladyship to excuse me for a few hours, while I walk to Norwood.
I have been so shackled of late! but the first use I make of my liberty
shall be to visit my friends.' 'I am afraid, my dear,' returned Lady
Pelham, with more gentleness than she was accustomed to use in
contradiction, 'you will scarcely find time to visit Mrs De Courcy. I
have long promised to pass some time with my friend Mrs Bathurst; and I
propose setting off to-morrow. I should die of _ennui_ here, now I have
lost the society that has of late given me so much pleasure.'--'Mrs
Bathurst, Madam? she who was formerly'--'Poh, poh, child,' interrupted
Lady Pelham, 'don't stir up the embers of decayed slander--Will you
never learn to forget the little mistakes of your fellow-creatures? Mrs
Bathurst makes one of the best wives in the world; and to a man with
whom everybody would not live so well.'
Practice had made Laura pretty expert in interpreting her aunt's
language, and she understood more in the present instance than it was
meant she should comprehend. She had heard of Mrs Bathurst's fame, and,
knowing that it was not quite spotless, was rather averse to being the
companion of Lady Pelham's visit; but she never, without mature
deliberation, refused compliance with her aunt's wishes; and she
resolved to consider the matter before announcing opposition. Besides
she was determined to carry her point of seeing Mrs De Courcy, and
therefore did not wish to introduce any other subject of altercation.
'Though I should accompany you to-morrow, Madam,' said she, 'I shall
have time sufficient for my walk to Norwood. The preparations for my
journey cannot occupy an hour; and, if I go to Norwood now,' added she,
tying on her bonnet, 'I can return early. Good morning, Madam; to-day I
may walk in peace.'
Laura felt as if a mountain had been lifted from her breast as she
bounded across the lawn, and thought that Colonel Hargrave was, by this
time, miles distant from Walbourne; but as she pursued her way, she
began to wonder that Lady Pelham seemed so little moved by his
departure. It was strange that she, who had remonstrated so warmly, so
unceasingly, against Laura's behaviour to him, did not more vehemently
upbraid her with its consequences. Lady Pelham's forbearance was not in
character--Laura did not know how to explain it. 'I have taken her by
surprise,' thought she, 'with my excursion to Norwood, but she will
discuss it at large in the evening; and probably in many an evening--I
shall never hear the last of it.'
It was needless, however, to anticipate evil, and Laura turned her
thoughts to the explanation which she was bent on making to her friends.
The more she reflected, the more she was persuaded that De Courcy
suspected her of encouraging the addresses of Hargrave; addresses now
provokingly notorious to all the neighbourhood. He had most probably
communicated the same opinion to his mother; and Laura wished much to
exculpate herself, if she could do so without appearing officiously
communicative. If she could meet Mr De Courcy alone, if he should lead
to the subject, or if it should accidentally occur, she thought she
might be able to speak freely to him; more freely than even to Mrs De
Courcy. 'It is strange, too,' thought she, 'that I should feel so little
restraint with a person of the other sex; less than ever I did with one
of my own.--But my father's friend ought not to be classed with other
men.'
Her eyes yet swam in tears of grateful recollection, when she raised
them to a horseman who was meeting her. It was Montague De Courcy; and,
as he leisurely advanced, Laura's heart beat with a hope that he would,
as he had often done before, dismount to accompany her walk. But
Montague, though evidently in no haste to reach the place of his
destination, stopped only to make a slight inquiry after her health, and
then passed on. Laura's bosom swelled with grief, unmixed with
resentment. 'He thinks,' said she, 'that I invite the attentions of a
libertine; and is it surprising that he should withdraw his friendship
from me! But he will soon know his error.' And again she more cheerfully
pursued her way.
Her courage failed her a little as she entered Norwood. 'What if Mrs De
Courcy too should receive me coldly,' thought she; 'Can I notice it to
her? Can I beg of her to listen to my justification?' These thoughts
gave Laura an air of timidity and embarrassment as she entered the room
where Mrs De Courcy was sitting alone. Her fears were groundless. Mrs De
Courcy received her with kindness, gently reproaching her for her long
absence. Laura assured her that it was wholly involuntary, but 'of
late,' said she, hesitating, 'I have been very little from home.' Mrs De
Courcy gave a faint melancholy smile; but did not inquire what had
confined her young friend. 'Harriet has just left me,' said she, 'to pay
some visits, and to secure the presence of a companion for a very
important occasion. She meant also to solicit yours, if three weeks
hence you are still to be capable of acting as a bridemaid.' Laura
smiling was about to reply, that being in no danger of forfeiting that
privilege, she would most joyfully attend Miss De Courcy; but she met a
glance of such marked, such mournful scrutiny, that she stopped; and the
next moment was covered with blushes. 'Ah!' thought she, 'Mrs De Courcy
indeed believes all that I feared, and more than I feared--What can I
say to her?'
Her embarrassment confirmed Mrs De Courcy's belief; but, unwilling
further to distress Laura, she said, 'Harriet herself will talk over all
these matters with you, and then your own peculiar manner will soften
the refusal into somewhat almost as pleasing as consent; if indeed you
are obliged to refuse.' 'Indeed, Madam,' said Laura, 'nothing can be
further from my thoughts than refusal; I shall most willingly, most
gladly, attend Miss De Courcy; but may I--will you allow me to--to ask
you why you should expect me to refuse?' 'And if I answer you,' returned
Mrs De Courcy, 'will you promise to be candid with me on a subject where
ladies think that candour may be dispensed with?' 'I will promise to be
candid with you on every subject,' said Laura, rejoiced at this
opportunity of entering on her justification. 'Then I will own to you,'
said Mrs De Courcy, 'that circumstances have conspired with public
report to convince me that you are yourself about to need the good
office which Harriet solicits from you. Colonel Hargrave and you share
between you the envy of our little world of fashion.' 'And have you,
Madam--has Harriet--has Mr De Courcy given credit to this vexatious
report!' cried Laura, the tears of mortification filling her eyes. 'Ah
how differently should I have judged of you!'--'My dearest girl,' said
Mrs De Courcy, surprised but delighted, 'I assure you that none of us
would, upon slight grounds, believe any thing concerning you, that you
would not wish us to credit. But, in this instance, I thought my
authority indisputable; Lady Pelham'--'Is it possible,' cried Laura,
'that my aunt could propagate such a report, when she knew the teasing,
the persecution that I have endured.' 'Lady Pelham did not directly
assure me of its truth;' answered Mrs De Courcy; 'but when I made
inquiries, somewhat, I own, in the hope of being empowered to contradict
the rumour, her answer was certainly calculated to make me believe that
you were soon to be lost to us.'--'Lost indeed!' exclaimed Laura. 'But
what could be my aunt's intention. Surely she cannot still expect to
prevail with me. My dear friend, if you knew what I have suffered from
her importunities.--But she has only my advantage in view, though,
surely, she widely mistakes the means.'
Laura now frankly informed Mrs De Courcy of the inquietude she had
suffered from the persevering remonstrances of Lady Pelham, and the
obtrusive assiduities of Hargrave. Mrs De Courcy, though she sincerely
pitied the comfortless situation of Laura, listened with pleasure to the
tale. 'And is all this confidential?' said she, 'so confidential that I
must not mention it even to Montague or Harriet?' 'Oh no, indeed,
Madam,' cried Laura; 'I wish, above all things, that Mr De Courcy should
know it; tell him all, Madam; and tell him too, that I would rather be
in my grave than marry Colonel Hargrave.' Laura had scarcely spoken ere
she blushed for the warmth with which she spoke, and Mrs De Courcy's
smile made her blush again, and more deeply. But the plea which excused
her to herself she the next moment urged to her friend. 'Ah, Madam,'
said she, 'if you had witnessed Mr De Courcy's kindness to my father; if
you had known how my father loved him, you would not wonder that I am
anxious for his good opinion.' 'I do not wonder, my love,' said Mrs De
Courcy, in a tone of heartfelt affection. 'I should be much more
surprised if such a mind as yours could undervalue the esteem of a man
like Montague. But why did not my sweet Laura take refuge from her
tormentors at Norwood, where no officious friends, no obtrusive lovers
would have disturbed her quiet?'
Laura excused herself, by saying that she was sure her aunt would never
have consented to her absence for more than a few hours; but she
promised, now that Lady Pelham's particular reason for detaining her was
removed, that she would endeavour to obtain permission to spend some
time at Norwood. 'I fear I must first pay a much less agreeable visit,'
continued Laura, 'for my aunt talks of carrying me to-morrow to the
house of a Mrs Bathurst, of whom you probably have heard.' Mrs De Courcy
knew that Lady Pelham was on terms of intimacy with Mrs Bathurst, yet
she could not help feeling some surprise that she should choose to
introduce her niece to such a _chaperon_. She did not, however, think it
proper, by expressing her opinion, to heighten Laura's reluctance
towards what she probably could not prevent; and therefore merely
expressed a strong wish that Lady Pelham would permit Laura to spend the
time of her absence at Norwood. Laura, though she heartily wished the
same, knew her aunt too well to expect that a purpose which she had once
announced she would relinquish merely because it would interfere with
the inclinations of others. Still it was not impossible that it might be
relinquished. A thousand things might happen to alter Lady Pelham's
resolution, though they were invincible by entreaty. Laura lingered with
Mrs De Courcy for several hours, and when at last she was obliged to go,
received, at parting, many a kind injunction to remember her promised
visit. As she bent her steps homeward, she revolved in her mind every
chance of escape from being the companion of her aunt's journey. She was
the more averse to attend Lady Pelham because she conjectured that they
would not return before Miss De Courcy's marriage, on which occasion
Laura was unwilling to be absent. But she was sensible that neither this
nor any other reason she could urge, would in the least affect Lady
Pelham's motions. Derham Green, the seat of Mrs Bathurst, was above
ninety miles from Walbourne; and it was not likely that Lady Pelham
would travel so far with the intention of making a short visit.
Laura had quitted the avenue of Norwood and entered the lane which led
to that of Walbourne, when the noise of singing, for it could not be
called music, made her look round; and she perceived that she was
overtaken by a figure in a dingy regimental coat, and a rusty hat,
which, however, regained some of its original shade by a contrast with
the grey side-locks which blew up a-thwart it. This person was applying
the whole force of his lungs to the utterance of 'Hearts of Oak,' in a
voice, the masculine bass of which was at times oddly interrupted by the
weak treble tones of age, while, with a large crabstick, he beat time
against the sides of a starveling ass upon which he was mounted. The
other hand was charged with the double employment of guiding the animal,
and of balancing a large portmanteau, which was placed across its
shoulders. Laura, retaining the habits of her country, addressed the man
with a few words of courtesy, to which he replied with the frankness and
garrulity of an old Englishman; and as they proceeded at much the same
pace, they continued the conversation. It was, however, soon
interrupted. At the gate of a grass field, with which the ass seemed
acquainted, the creature made a full stop.--'Get on,' cried the man,
striking it with his heel. It would not stir. The rider applied the
crabstick more vigorously than before. It had no effect; even an ass can
despise the chastisement with which it is too familiar. The contention
was obstinate; neither party seemed inclined to yield. At last fortune
decided in favour of the ass. The portmanteau slipped from its balance,
and fell to the ground. The man looked dolefully at it. 'How the plague
shall I get it up again?' said he. 'Don't dismount,' said Laura, who now
first observed that her companion had but one leg--'I can lift it up for
you.'
As she raised it, Laura observed that it was directed to Mr Jones, at
Squire Bathurst's, Derham Green, ----shire. Though the name was too
common to excite any suspicion, the address struck her as being the same
place which had so lately occupied her thoughts. 'Have you far to go,'
said she to the man. 'No, Ma'am,' answered he, 'only to Job Wilson, the
carrier's, with this portmanteau, for Colonel Hargrave's gentleman. The
Colonel took Mr Jones with himself in the chay, but he had only room for
one or two of his boxes, so he left this with the groom, and the groom
gave me a pot of porter to go with it.'
The whole affair was now clear. Lady Pelham, finding Laura unmanageable
at home, was contriving that she should meet Colonel Hargrave at a place
where, being among strangers, she would find it less possible to avoid
him. Mrs Bathurst too was probably a good convenient friend, who would
countenance whatever measures were thought necessary. In the first burst
of indignation at the discovery of her aunt's treachery, Laura thought
of retracing her steps to Norwood, never more to enter the presence of
her unworthy relation; but, resentment cooling at the recollection of
the benefits she owed to Lady Pelham, she determined on returning to
Walbourne, to announce in person her refusal to go with her aunt;
conceiving this to be the most respectful way of intimating her
intentions.
As soon as she returned home she retired to her chamber without seeing
Lady Pelham; and immediately dispatched the following note to Mrs De
Courcy. 'My dear Madam, an accident has happened which determines me
against going to Derham Green. Will you think I presume too soon on your
kind invitation, if I say that I shall see you to-morrow at breakfast?
Or will not your benevolence rather acquire a new motive in the
shelterless condition which awaits your very affectionate L.M.'
She then proceeded to make arrangements for her departure, reflecting,
with tears, on the hard necessity which was about to set her at variance
with the only living relation who had ever acknowledged her. She knew
that Lady Pelham would be enraged at the frustration of a scheme, to
accomplish which she had stooped to such artifice; and she feared that,
however gentle might be the terms of her intended refusal, her aunt
would consider it as unpardonable rebellion. She was, however, firmly
resolved against compliance, and all that remained was to use the least
irritating mode of denial.
They met at dinner. Lady Pelham in high good humour, Laura grave and
thoughtful. Lady Pelham mentioned her journey; but, dreading to rouse
her aunt's unwearied power's of objurgation, Laura kept silence; and her
just displeasure rendering her averse to Lady Pelham's company, she
contrived to spend the evening alone.
As the supper hour approached, Laura began to tremble for the contest
which awaited her. She felt herself more than half inclined to withdraw
from the storm, by departing without warning, and leaving Lady Pelham to
discover the reason of her flight after she was beyond the reach of her
fury. But she considered that such a proceeding must imply an
irreconcilable breach with one to whom she owed great and substantial
obligations; and would carry an appearance of ingratitude which she
could not bear to incur. Summoning her courage, therefore, she resolved
to brave the tempest. She determined, that whatever provocation she
might endure, she would offer none but such as was unavoidable; though,
at the same time, she would maintain that spirit which she had always
found the most effectual check to her aunt's violence.
The supper passed in quiet; Laura unwilling to begin the attack; Lady
Pelham glorying in her expected success. Her Ladyship had taken her
candle, and was about to retire, before Laura durst venture on the
subject. 'Good night, my dear,' said Lady Pelham. 'I fear,' replied
Laura, 'I may rather say farewell, since it will be so long ere I see
you again.' 'How do you mean!' inquired Lady Pelham. 'That I cannot
accompany you to Mrs Bathurst's,' replied Laura; fetching, at the close
of her speech, a breath longer than the speech itself. 'You won't go?'
exclaimed Lady Pelham, in a voice of angry astonishment. 'Since it is
your wish that I should,' returned Laura meekly, 'I am sorry that it is
not in my power.' 'And pray what puts it out of your power?' cried Lady
Pelham, wrath working in her countenance. 'I cannot go where I am to
meet Colonel Hargrave.' For a moment Lady Pelham looked confounded, but
presently recovering utterance, she began--'So! this is your Norwood
intelligence; and your charming Mrs De Courcy--your model of
perfection--sets spies upon the conduct of all the neighbourhood!'
Laura reddened at this vulgar abuse of the woman on earth whom she most
revered; but she had set a guard on her temper, and only answered, that
it was not at Norwood she received her information. 'A fortunate, I
should rather say a providential accident,' said she, 'disclosed to me
the whole'--the word 'strategem' was rising to her lips, but she
exchanged it for one less offensive.
'And what if Colonel Hargrave is to be there?' said Lady Pelham, her
choler rising as her confusion subsided. 'I suppose, forsooth, my pretty
prudish Miss cannot trust herself in the house with a man!' 'Not with
Colonel Hargrave, Madam,' said Laura coolly.
Lady Pelham's rage was now strong enough to burst the restraints of
Laura's habitual ascendancy. 'But I say you shall go, Miss,' cried she
in a scream that mingled the fierceness of anger with the insolence of
command. 'Yes I say you shall go; we shall see whether I am always to
truckle to a baby-faced chit, a creature that might have died in a
workhouse but for my charity.' 'Indeed, Madam,' said Laura, 'I do not
forget--I never shall forget--what I owe you; nor that when I was
shelterless and unprotected, you received and cherished me.' 'Then shew
that you remember it, and do what I desire,' returned Lady Pelham,
softened in spite of herself, by the resistless sweetness of Laura's
look and manner. 'Do not, I beseech you, Madam,' said Laura, 'insist
upon this proof of my gratitude. If you do, I can only thank you for
your past kindness, and wish that it had been in my power to make a
better return.' 'Do you dare to tell me that you will not go?' cried
Lady Pelham, stamping till the room shook. 'I beg, Madam,' said Laura
entreatingly, 'I beg of you not to command what I shall be compelled to
refuse.' 'Refuse at your peril!' shrieked Lady Pelham, in a voice scarce
articulate with passion, and grasping Laura's arm in the convulsion of
her rage.
Laura had some times been the witness, but seldom the object of her
aunt's transports; and while Lady Pelham stood eyeing her with a
countenance 'fierce as ten furies,' she, conscious with what burning
shame she would herself have shrunk from making such an exhibition,
sympathetically averted her eyes as if the virago had been sensible of
the same feeling. 'I say refuse at your peril!' cried Lady Pelham.--'Why
don't you speak? obstinate'--'Because,' answered Laura with saintlike
meekness, 'I can say nothing but what will offend you--I cannot go to
Mrs Bathurst's.'
Angry opposition Lady Pelham might have retorted with some small remains
of self-possession, but the serenity of Laura exasperating her beyond
all bounds, she was so far transported as to strike her a violent blow.
Without uttering a syllable, Laura took her candle and quitted the room;
while Lady Pelham, herself confounded at the outrage she had committed,
made no attempt to detain her.
Laura retired to her chamber, and sat quietly down to consider the state
of her warfare, which she determined to conclude by letter, without
exposing her person to another assault; but in a few minutes she was
stormed in her citadel, and the enemy entered, conscious of mistake, but
with spirit unbroken. Lady Pelham had gone too far to retract, and was
too much in the wrong to recant her error; her passion, however, had
somewhat exhausted itself in the intemperate exercise which she had
allowed it; and though as unreasonable as ever, she was less outrageous.
Advancing towards Laura with an air intended to express offended majesty
(for studied dignity is generally the disguise chosen by conscious
degradation), she began, 'Miss Montreville, do you, in defiance of my
commands, adhere to your resolution of not visiting Mrs Bathurst?'
'Certainly, Madam;' replied Laura, provoked that Lady Pelham should
expect to intimidate her by a blow; 'I have seen no reason to relinquish
it.'--'There is a reason, however,' returned Lady Pelham, elevating her
chin, curling her upper lip, and giving Laura the side-glance of
disdain, 'though probably it is too light to weigh with such a
determined lady, and that is, that you must either prepare to attend me
to-morrow, or return to that beggary from which I took you, and never
more enter my presence.' 'Then, Madam,' said Laura, rising with her
native mien of calm command, 'we must part; for I cannot go to Mrs
Bathurst's.'
Laura's cool resistance of a threat which was expected to be all
powerful, discomposed Lady Pelham's heroics. Her eyes flashing fire, and
her voice sharpening to a scream, 'Perverse ungrateful wretch!' she
cried, 'Get out of my sight--leave my house this instant.' 'Certainly,
if you desire it, Madam,' answered Laura, with unmoved self-possession;
'but, perhaps, if you please, I had better remain here till morning. I
am afraid it might give rise to unpleasant observations if it were known
that I left your house at midnight.'
'I care not who knows it--I would have the world see what a viper I have
fostered in my bosom. Begone, and never let me see your hypocritical
face again.'
'Then I hope,' said Laura, 'your Ladyship will allow a servant to
accompany me to Norwood. At this hour it would be improper for me to go
alone.' 'Oh to be sure,' cried Lady Pelham, 'do go to your friend and
favourite and make your complaint of all your harsh usage, and descant
at large upon poor Lady Pelham's unlucky failings. No, no, I promise
you, no servant of mine shall be sent on any such errand.' 'There is
fine moonlight,' said Laura looking calmly from the window, 'I dare say
I shall be safe enough alone.' 'You shall not go to Norwood!' cried Lady
Pelham--'I'll take care to keep you from that prying, censorious old
hag. You two shan't be allowed to sit primming up your mouths, and
spitting venom on all the neighbourhood.' Weary of such low abuse, Laura
took her bonnet, and was leaving the room. Lady Pelham placed herself
between her and the door. 'Where are you going?' she demanded, in a
voice in which rage was a little mingled with dread. 'To the only
shelter that England affords me,' returned Laura; 'to the only friends
from whom death or distance does not sever me.' 'I shall spoil your dish
of scandal for to-night, however,' said Lady Pelham, flouncing out of
the room; and, slapping the door with a force that made the windows
rattle, she locked it on the outside. Laura making no attempt to obtain
release, quietly sat down expecting a renewal of the charge. Soon,
however, all the household seemed still, and Laura having mingled with
the prayer that commended herself to the care of heaven, a supplication
for pardon and amendment to her aunt, retired to sound and refreshing
rest.
On quitting Laura, Lady Pelham went to bed, pride and anger in her
breast fiercely struggling against a sense of blame. But the darkness,
the silence, the loneliness of night assuage the passions even of a
termagant; and by degrees she turned from re-acting and excusing her
conduct, to fretting at its probable consequences.
The courage of a virago is no more than the daring of intoxication. Wait
till the paroxysms be past, and the timid hare is not more the slave of
fear. Lady Pelham began to feel, though she would scarcely acknowledge
it to herself, how very absurdly her contest would figure in the mouths
of the gossips round Walbourne. If her niece left her house in
displeasure, if a breach were known to subsist between them, was it not
most likely that Laura would in her own defence relate the treatment to
which she had been subjected? At all events, if she went to Norwood
before a reconciliation took place, she would certainly explain her
situation to Mrs De Courcy; and Lady Pelham could not brave the contempt
of the woman whom she disliked and abused. Anger has been compared to a
short madness, and the resemblance holds in this respect, that in both
cases, a little terror is of sovereign use in restoring quiet. Lady
Pelham even feared the calm displeasure of Laura, and shrunk from
meeting the reproving eye of even the dependent girl whom she had
persecuted and reproached and insulted. By degrees, Laura's habitual
ascendancy was completely restored, perhaps with added strength for its
momentary suspension; for she had rather gained in respectability by
patient endurance, while Lady Pelham was somewhat humbled by a sense of
misconduct. Besides, in the course of eight months residence under her
roof, Laura was become necessary to her aunt. Her prudence, her good
temper, her various domestic talents, were ever at hand to supply the
capital defects of Lady Pelham's character. Lady Pelham could not justly
be said to love any mortal, but she felt the advantages of the method
and regularity which Laura had introduced into her family; Laura's
beauty gratified her vanity; Laura's sweetness bore with her caprice;
Laura's talents amused her solitude; and she made as near an approach as
nature would permit to loving Laura. What was of more consequence, Laura
was popular in the neighbourhood; her story would be no sooner told than
believed; and Lady Pelham's lively imagination strongly represented to
her the aggravation, commentary, and sarcasm, with which such an
anecdote would be circulated.
But though these ideas floated in Lady Pelham's mind, let it not be
thought that she once supposed them to be the motives of her
determination to seek a reconcilement! No. Lady Pelham had explained,
and disguised, and adorned her failings, till she had converted the
natural shame of confession into a notion that a candid avowal atoned
for any of her errors; and no sooner did she begin to think of making
concessions to her niece, than the consciousness of blame was lost in
inward applause of her own candour and condescension. An observing eye,
therefore, would have seen more of conceit than of humility in her air,
when early in the morning, she entered Laura's apartment. Laura was
already dressed, and returned her aunt's salutation more coldly than she
had ever formerly done, though with perfect good humour. Lady Pelham
approached and took her hand; Laura did not withdraw it. 'I fear,' said
Lady Pelham, 'you think I behaved very absurdly last night.' Laura
looked down and said nothing. 'I am willing to own I was to blame,'
continued her Ladyship, 'but people of strong feelings, you know, my
dear, cannot always command themselves.' Laura was still silent. 'We
must forgive and forget the failings of our friends,' proceeded her
Ladyship. Laura, who dreaded that these overtures of peace only covered
a projected attack, still stood speechless. 'Will you not forgive me,
Laura?' said Lady Pelham coaxingly, her desire of pardon increasing, as
she began to doubt of obtaining it. 'I do, Madam,' said Laura, clasping
Lady Pelham's hand between her own. 'I do from my heart forgive all, and
if you will permit me, I will forget all--all but that when I was an
orphan, alone in the wide world, you sheltered and protected me.' 'Thank
you, my good girl,' returned Lady Pelham, sealing the reconciliation
with a kiss. 'I knew you would think it a duty to excuse an error
arising merely from my natural warmth, and the interest I take in
you--"A bad effect from a noble cause." It is a melancholy truth that
those who have the advantages of a feeling heart, must share its
weaknesses too.' Laura had so often listened to similar nonsense, that
it had ceased to provoke a smile. 'Let us talk of this no more,' said
she; 'let me rather try to persuade you not only to excuse, but to
sanction the obstinacy that offended you.' 'Ah Laura,' returned Lady
Pelham, smiling, 'I must not call you obstinate, but you are very firm.
If I could but prevail on you to go with me only for a day or two, I
should make my visit as short as you please; for now it has been all
arranged I must go, and it would look so awkward to go without you!' 'If
the length of your visit depend upon me,' answered Laura, waving a
subject on which she was determined not to forfeit her character for
firmness, 'it shall be short indeed, for I shall long to offer some
reparation for all my late perverseness and disobedience.'
At another time Lady Pelham's temper would have failed her at this
steady opposition of her will; but fear kept her in check. After a few
very gentle expostulations, she gave up the point, and inquired whether
her niece still intended to spend the time of her absence at Norwood.
Laura answered that she did; and had promised to breakfast there that
morning. Upon this Lady Pelham overwhelmed her with such caresses and
endearments, as she intended should obliterate the remembrance of her
late injurious behaviour. She extolled Laura's prudence, her sweet and
forgiving disposition, her commendable reserve with strangers, and her
caution in speaking of herself or of her own affairs. Unfortunately for
the effect of the flattery, Laura recollected that some of these
qualities had at times been the subject of Lady Pelham's severe
reprehension. She had, besides, sufficient penetration to detect the
motive of her Ladyship's altered language; and she strove to suppress a
feeling of contempt, while she replied to her aunt's thoughts as freely
as if they had been frankly spoken; assuring her that she should be far
from publishing to strangers the casual vexations of her domestic life.
Lady Pelham reddened, as her latent thoughts were thus seized and
exposed naked to her view; but fear again proved victorious, and she
redoubled her blandishments. She even had recourse to a new expedient,
and for the first time made Laura an offer of money. With infinite
difficulty did Laura suppress the indignation which swelled her breast.
She had forgiven abuse and insult, but it was beyond endurance that her
aunt should suppose that her pardon and silence might be bought.
Restraining her anger, however, she positively refused the money; and
bidding Lady Pelham farewell, departed, amidst pressing injunctions to
remain at Norwood no longer than till her aunt returned to Walbourne;
her Ladyship protesting that her own home would not be endurable for an
hour without the company of her dear Laura.
Lady Pelham unwillingly set out on a journey of which the first
intention had been totally defeated; but she had no alternative, since,
besides having promised to visit Mrs Bathurst, she had made an
appointment to meet Hargrave at the stage where she was to stop for the
night, and it was now too late to give him warning of his
disappointment. Even Hargrave's politeness was no match for his
vexation, when he saw Lady Pelham, late in the evening, alight from her
carriage, unaccompanied by Laura. He listened with impatience to her
Ladyship's apology and confused explanations; and more than half
resolved upon returning to -- to carry on his operations there. But he
too had promised to Mrs Bathurst, whom for particular reasons he wished
not to disoblige. The travellers, therefore, next day pursued their
journey to Derham Green, beguiling the way by joint contrivances to
conquer the stubbornness of Laura.