An early April sun was shining brightly through one of the windows of an
elegantly furnished boudoir of a distinguished-looking mansion, in the
vicinity of Piccadilly. There was somewhat in the aspect of the room, in
the variety of toys scattered on every side, in the selection of the
newest novels which were arranged on the table, and an indescribable air
which pervaded the whole, that might have aroused a suspicion, in any
keen observer who could discover character by trifles, that the lady to
whom that apartment belonged possessed not the very strongest or most
sensible mind. A taste which frivolous trifles could alone gratify
appeared evident; and the countenance of the lady, who was reclining
listlessly on the couch, would have confirmed these surmises. She did
not look above forty, if as much, but her features told a tale of
lassitude and weariness, at variance with the prime of life, which was
then her own. No intellect, no emotion was expressed on her countenance;
it never varied, except, perhaps, to denote peevishness or sullenness
when domestic affairs annoyed her, which appeared to be the case at
present. A volume of the last new novel was in her hand, in which she
appeared sufficiently interested as to feel still more annoyed at the
interruption she was constantly receiving from a young lady, who was
also an inmate of her room.
Striking, indeed, was the contrast exhibited in the features of the
mother and daughter, for so nearly were they connected, and yet to some
the inanimate expression of the former would have been far preferable to
the handsome but scornful countenance of the latter. She could not have
been more than eighteen, but the expression of the features and the tone
of character were already decided to no ordinary degree. There was an
air of fashion in her every movement; an easy assurance and independence
of spirit which might have made her mother respected, but which in one
so young were intolerable to all save those whom she had contrived to
make her devoted admirers. Spite of the natural beauty of her face,
haughtiness, pride, and some of the baser passions of human nature, were
there visibly impressed; at least whenever she appeared in her natural
character, when no concealed designs caused her to veil these less
amiable emotions in eloquent smiles and a manner whose fascination was
felt and unresisted, even by those who perhaps had been before
prejudiced against her. Various were the characters she assumed in
society--assumed to suit her own purpose, made up of art; even at home
she sometimes found herself seeking for design, as if it were impossible
to go straightforward, to act without some reason. We shall find,
however, as we proceed, that she had one confidant at home, to whom,
when exhausted by the fatigue of planning, she would confess herself,
and who was generally the hearer and abettor of the young lady's
schemes. This was a person who had lived for many years in the family as
governess; although that office with the elder of her charges had ever
been but nominal, and with the younger it was neglected for the office
of friend and confidant, which Miss Malison very much preferred.
It was evident this morning that the efforts of the young lady had not
succeeded quite so well as usual in veiling the discontent in which she
inwardly indulged. She was amusing herself at that moment in opening
every book on the table, glancing sulkily on their contents, and then
throwing them down again with a violence that not only had the effect of
making her mother start, but of disturbing the quiet repose of some of
the fragile toys in their vicinity, to the manifest danger of their
destruction.
"I wish you would oblige me, Annie, by endeavouring to amuse yourself in
a quieter manner," observed her mother, in a very languid tone. "You
have no pity on my poor nerves. You know when I have these nervous
headaches, the least thing disturbs me."
"You may be certain, mamma, it is reading that makes them worse, not my
noise. You had much better put away the book, and then you have some
chance of being free from them."
"Will you read to me then instead? I assure you I should much prefer
it."
"_I_ read aloud! I could not do it to please the most agreeable person
in the world; and as you are so very obliging to me in refusing so
decidedly to go with me to-night, you cannot expect I should oblige
you."
Lady Helen Grahame's placid countenance gave no evidence of inward
disturbance at this undutiful speech; she was too much used to it, to
feel the pain it might otherwise have produced, and too indifferent to
be either indignant or displeased.
"You are very ungrateful, Annie," she replied, in that same languid
tone, but with the very little expression in her voice, no emotion was
visible. "I tell you I will send round to Lady Charlton or the Countess
St. Aubyn; either of them, I know, will be very happy to chaperon you.
Surely you can let me be quiet for one evening."
"Lady Charlton I cannot bear; she is the most detestable creature I
know. I would rather be buried alive in the country, than join in London
society under her care; with her long speeches of prudery and virtue,
and the modest reserve of young ladies, and a hundred other such
saint-like terms, when all the time she is doing all she can to catch
husbands for her three great gawky daughters, who in mamma's presence
are all simplicity and simper--sweet girls just introduced; when I am
very much mistaken if the youngest is not nearer thirty than twenty. And
as for Lady St. Aubyn, you know very well, mamma, papa declared I should
never go out with her again; it is just the same as if I were alone. She
has not a word or thought for any one but herself: she thinks she may
act with as much coquetry now as before she married. I do believe that
woman only married that she might be more at liberty and go out by
herself."
"Then, if you like neither of them, write a note to Mrs. Hamilton. Your
father would be better pleased if you were to go under her care, than of
any other."
"Mrs. Hamilton! I would not for worlds. Every pleasure I might
otherwise enjoy would vanish before the stern majesty of her presence. I
wonder how Caroline can bear the thraldom in which her mother holds
her--it is complete slavery."
"I will not hear a word against Mrs. Hamilton," exclaimed Lady Helen,
with more display of feeling than had yet been perceivable. "She is a
truer friend both to your father and myself than any of those with whom
we associate here."
"It is well you think so, my lady mother," replied Miss Grahame, in a
peculiar tone. "It is fortunate you are not troubled with jealousy, and
that this paragon of perfection, this Mrs. Hamilton, is your friend as
well as papa's. If I heard my husband so constantly extolling another
woman in my presence, I should not be quite so easy."
If a flush rose to Lady Helen's pale cheek at these words, it was so
faint as scarcely to be perceivable, and she took no notice, except to
say--
"If your great desire to go to this ball is to be with Caroline the
first night of her _entrée_, I should think Mrs. Hamilton was the best
chaperon you could have."
"I tell you, mother, I will not go with her. She has not bewitched me as
she has you and papa. If you would only be quiet for a few hours, I am
sure your head would be sufficiently well for you to go with me; and you
know I never do enjoy an evening so much as when you accompany me, dear
mamma," she continued, softening the violence with which she had at
first spoken into one of the most persuasive eloquence; and humbling her
pride and controlling the contempt with which she ever looked on her
weak but far more principled mother, she knelt on a low stool by her
side, and caressingly kissed Lady Helen's hand.
"Dear mamma, you would oblige me, I am sure you would, if you knew how
much your presence contributes to my enjoyment. A ball is quite a
different thing when I feel I am under your wing, and you know papa
prefers my going out with you to any one else."
Annie spoke truth, though her words appeared but flattery. The extreme
indolence of Lady Helen's natural disposition, which was now heightened
by the lassitude attendant on really failing health, rendered her merely
a chaperon in name. Annie felt very much more at liberty when with her
than with any other; she could act as she pleased, select her own
companions, coquette, talk, dance, without ever thinking of her mother
or being sought for by her, till the end of the evening. It was enough
she was with Lady Helen, to silence all gossiping tongues and to satisfy
her father, who, one of the most devoted members of the Lower House,
scarcely ever visited such places of amusement, and therefore knew not
the conduct of either his wife or daughter. He long since discovered his
authority was as nothing to his children; he felt most painfully his
sternness had alienated their affections, and he now rather shrunk from
their society; therefore, even at home he was a solitary man, and yet
Grahame was formed for all the best emotions, the warmest affections of
our nature. He was ignorant that his wife now very frequently suffered
from ill-health, for he had never seen her conduct different even when
in youth and perfectly well. Had he known this, and also the fact that,
though trembling at his sternness, she yet longed to receive some token
of his affection--that she really loved him, spite of the many faults
and the extreme weakness of her character, he might have been happy.
Deceived by her daughter's manner, Lady Helen began to waver in the
positive refusal she had given to accompanying her, and Annie was not
slow in discovering her advantage; she continued the persuasions she
knew so well how to use, concealing the inward struggle it was to veil
her discontent at this unwonted humiliation, and suppressing the
violence that was ready to break forth, at length succeeded. Though
really feeling too languid for the exertion, the wavering mother could
not resist the unusually gentle manner of the persevering daughter, and
Miss Grahame flew to her confidant to impart the joyful tidings.
Miss Malison was employed in endeavouring, by commands, exhortations,
and threats, to compel her pupil to practise a difficult sonata, which
her music-master had desired might be prepared by the time of his next
visit. Now it happened that Lilla Grahame had not the slightest taste
for music, and that Miss Malison did not possess the patient
perseverance requisite to smooth the difficulty of the task, nor the
gentleness necessary to render it more pleasing to her pupil; therefore,
in these practising lessons discord ever prevailed over harmony, and the
teacher was ever ready to seize the most trifling excuse to neglect her
office, and leave Lilla to practise or not as she pleased.
"Malison, _chère_ Malison," exclaimed Annie, in a tone of glee, as she
entered, "do leave that stupid girl and come with me; I have some
charming intelligence to communicate. And it really is no use boring
yourself with Lilla; she will never play, try as hard as she can."
"According to you, I shall do nothing," burst angrily from her sister's
lips, for her temper, naturally good, though somewhat hasty, had been
completely ruined by careless and mistaken treatment. "If I had been
properly taught, I should have done as others do: if Miss Malison had
chosen to take the same pains with me as Miss Harcourt does with
Emmeline and Ellen, I should have been a very different girl."
"Insolent, ungrateful girl! do you dare to say I have neglected my
duty?" exclaimed the _gouvernante_, enraged beyond bounds at this
display of insubordination in one whose spirit she had left no means
untried to bend to her will, and forgetting herself in the passion of
the moment, enforced her words by what is termed a sound box on the ear.
"Now go and tell mamma, pretty dear; or papa, if you like it better,"
Miss Grahame said, in a whining tone.
But Lilla answered her not. A crimson flush for the moment spread over
her very temples at the infliction of this indignity, which very quickly
gave way to a deadly, almost livid paleness, on which the marks of Miss
Malison's ready fingers were the only spots of red. Without a word in
reply, she hastily rose from the piano and left the room.
"Will she _blab_?" was the elegant question that was asked as the door
closed.
"Not she," replied Annie, laughing. "She dare not tell papa, and she
knows it is of no use appealing to mamma, who implicitly believes all
you tell her of Miss Lilla's excessive obstinacy, idleness, and
passionate temper in which she so constantly indulges; your deep regrets
that either of Lady Helen Grahame's daughters should be such a character
have succeeded so admirably. I have had such a struggle to obtain
mamma's promise to go with me to-night, that I really feel exhausted,"
and the young lady threw herself in a most graceful attitude of
listlessness on a sofa that stood invitingly beside lier.
"But have you succeeded?"
"Admirably! at length mamma thinks I am most amiable. My persuasions
were so eloquent, that the most obdurate person could not have resisted
them. I tried violence and sulkiness at first, thinking to frighten or
worry her into compliance; but finding both fail, I was compelled to
have recourse to humiliation and persuasion. If it had continued much
longer, I should have choked by the way; it is quite a relief to breathe
freely again. What do you think of her wishing me to go under the care
of Mrs. Hamilton to-night? I really could hardly control my horror at
the idea."
"Horrible, indeed! What would have become of all your plans, if you
had?"
"My dear creature, I would not have gone with her for worlds; but,
however, I think my plans are in too good training for one night spent
under her eyes to injure them. Caroline is beginning, I think, to feel
somewhat like a slave under this keen _surveillance_ of her paragon
mother, and to pine for the freedom of thought and act which I so
unboundedly enjoy. She only wants a little of my good advice and better
example, to become really a girl of spirit."
"But take care the spirit you are calling forth does not turn against
you," observed Miss Malison.
"Not at all likely, _ma chère_. I am careful only to excite it to serve
my own purposes. She likes me, I believe, and I can make her what I
please. Let her confidence in her mother be once destroyed, you will see
if she does not act as foolishly as I can desire. She has been buried in
the country so long, she is a mere infant with regard to all that
concerns a life of fashion; and, therefore, will be gladly led by one
she considers so completely _au fait_ at its mysteries as myself. I used
to like her in the country, because she always listened so eagerly to
all I said about London. I saw she envied me even when we were children,
and therefore fancied myself a most important personage."
"And do you like her now?"
"You are laughing at me, _chère_ Malison. You know I cannot bear a
rival, and this girl's dazzling beauty will completely cast me in the
shade."
"You don't mean to say her beauty can be compared to yours?" interrupted
Miss Malison.
"Perhaps not in the sterling worth of the two," replied Annie, glancing
complacently on a large mirror; "but she is new, Malison--quite new. Her
mother only kept her so long away that she might shine with greater
brilliancy when introduced. As for Caroline, I like her, as far as she
assists my plans, and by her silly, or, if that would serve me better,
criminal conduct, takes somewhat away from her mother's perfection, and
by the pain Mrs. Hamilton will feel, gratify my overpowering
detestation. Malison, you look delighted. Your assistance I am sure of,
if I require it; for you dislike this paragon of her sex almost as much
as I do."
"Indeed I do. I have never forgotten nor forgiven her presumption a year
or two ago, in hinting so broadly I was mistaken in my treatment of
Lilla, and that gentleness would have much better effect; gentleness
indeed, with a girl that would tire the patience of a saint. She is
always worse after having been with this Mrs. Hamilton, and I suppose it
will be all over again now. I wish, with your charming plans, my dear
Miss Grahame, you would find one to prevent all intercourse between the
Hamiltons and your sister."
"At present, _ma chère_, such a thing is out of my power, but we will
not despair; although the more you would say about Miss Lilla being
undeserving of such indulgence, the more papa would answer, let her go
and she will learn to be better there. I heard him give mamma peremptory
orders the other day, when we prevented her going, never to refuse
whenever Mrs. Hamilton invited her. Severity is a most admirable method,
my good Malison; you will break her spirit if you persevere,
notwithstanding all the amiable Mrs. Hamilton may do or say."
"I wish I may; but you have not told me all yet. How proceed your
schemes with Lord Alphingham?"
"To perfection! I have given Caroline a distaste for every other kind of
person. She has met him, you know, once or twice here, and that was
sufficient to fascinate her. She thinks him the handsomest and most
delightful man she ever knew. It is enough for Mr. Hamilton to see him a
friend of papa's to be attracted towards him; in all probability he will
be introduced at his house, and then my scheme will be still easier. It
will not be difficult to talk Caroline into fancying herself desperately
in love with him, and he with her--he is already attracted; and when I
see the aspect of affairs favourable, I will just get some kind friend
to whisper into Mrs. Hamilton's ear some of the pretty tales I have
heard of this Viscount, and you will see what will follow. These _on
dits_ are, fortunately for my plans, only known among my coterie. With
us, they only render Lord Alphingham more interesting; but with Mrs.
Hamilton they would have the effect of banishing him for ever from her
presence and from the notice of her daughter; the catastrophe, my dear
creature, shall be the perfection of diplomacy, but of that hereafter. I
owe Lord Alphingham a spite, which I will pay off one day, for his
desertion of me the moment Caroline appeared. I may do all I wish with,
one word. All my present intention is, by a gradual yet sure process, to
undermine Caroline's confidence in her mother, and make me her confidant
instead, and if I do that, the rest is easy."
"You know you have never failed in any scheme, therefore you may feel
secure in this," replied Miss Malison, with ready flattery; for she knew
Miss Grahame's love of designing, and really felt gratified at any plan
tending to injure Mrs. Hamilton, whom she detested with all the
malevolence of a mean and grovelling mind, which despised the virtue
that was too exalted for its comprehension.
Some little time longer this amiable pair conversed, but their further
conversation it is needless to record. We have already seen that
Emmeline Hamilton's prejudice against Annie Grahame was not unfounded,
and that at present is enough. Before, however, we quit Lady Helen's
mansion, we may say a few words on the character of Lilla, in whom, it
may be recollected, Mrs. Hamilton had ever felt interest sufficient to
indulge a hope that she might render her one day a greater comfort to
her father than either of his other children. As a child, her temper was
naturally good, though somewhat hasty and self-willed; high-spirited,
but affectionate to a degree that would have made the task of training
and instruction easy to any one who possessed sufficient gentleness to
win her affection, and with patience, yet firmness, to guide her in the
right way. Unfortunately, Miss Malison possessed neither; extremely
passionate herself, where her interests did not interfere to control it,
she was not at all the person to guide a passionate child. Severity was
her weapon, and every means used to break the spirit, which she could
plainly perceive would soon endeavour to throw off her control. Lilla
revolted at this treatment, and many evil qualities were thus introduced
in her disposition, which, when they fell under her eye, Mrs. Hamilton
was convinced were completely the fruits of mistaken management. From
being merely hasty, her passionate anger and hatred of her governess had
now increased to such height, as to be really alarming not only to her
weak-minded mother, but to Mrs. Hamilton, who, however, was certainly
never aware of their extent; for before her Lilla was generally gentle
and controlled. Something always occurred to call forth these bursts of
passion in Lady Helen's presence, and consequently, the actual conduct
of Lilla confirmed the statement of Miss Malison, as to her violence and
other evil qualities. Mr. Grahame, too, was compelled to believe all
that was told him, and his sternness towards his unhappy child
frequently caused her to fly from his presence in dread; although her
warm heart yearned towards him with such deep affection, which could he
have guessed one-half of its extent, would have twined her fondly round
his heart, and forced him to examine more strictly than he did the
conduct of Miss Malison. Lilla's dislike to her more favoured sister was
almost as violent as that she bore to her governess; and the conviction
that all her mother's family looked on her as a passionate, evil-minded
girl, of course, increased every bitter feeling. Often, very often, did
Mrs. Hamilton long to implore Mr. Grahame to dismiss Miss Malison, and
place Lilla under the care of some lady more fitted for the task; but
she felt that such advice might be looked upon with some justice by Lady
Helen's friends as most unwarrantable interference. Miss Malison had
been most highly recommended to Lady Helen by her mother, the Duchess of
----, and as, in the opinion of that branch of the family, Annie
abundantly displayed the good effects of her management, it was very
naturally supposed that Lilla's opposite character proceeded from an
innate evil disposition, and not from any fault in her governess. She
was now nearly fourteen and each year Mrs. Hamilton's hopes for the
future worth of her character became fainter; yet still she determined
to do all in her power to counteract Miss Malison's plans, and subdue
Lilla's fearful passions, and those longings for revenge, not only on
her governess but her sister, which, by many little things, she could
perceive were lurking round her heart. Montrose Grahame had been, as we
already know, from his earliest youth the intimate friend of Mr.
Hamilton, and, notwithstanding the increasing cares of their respective
families, this friendship had continued and, if possible, increased, and
Mrs. Hamilton sharing the sentiments of her husband, the qualities of
Grahame speedily caused him to become her friend likewise. She had ever
seen with regret his sternness to his children, she saw also that he was
pained, deeply pained, as their characters became more matured; and,
spite of the difficulties of the task, her benevolent mind determined to
leave no means untried to make one child at least his comfort. Lilla's
affection for her was as violent as her other feelings, and on that she
resolved at first to work. It was strange too, how devotedly attached
this wild and headstrong girl became, to one, who of all others appeared
least suited to her, and that one the mild and pensive Ellen. It
appeared as if it were a relief to meet one so widely different to
herself, and therefore she loved her. The high spirits and animation of
Emmeline appeared less congenial to her affections than the gentle
sweetness of Ellen. Caroline was Annie's friend, and that was enough for
her; not even her being Mrs. Hamilton's daughter could make her an
object of interest. On the day we have mentioned, Lilla had sat for
above an hour in her room; indignation at the insult she had received
swelling in every vein, and longing with sickening intensity for some
means to free herself from such galling thraldom. She did not give vent
to her injured feelings in tears, but her countenance so clearly
expressed the emotions of her heart, that it actually startled a servant
who entered with a message--a request from Mrs. Hamilton, that her young
friend would spend that evening with her daughter and niece. Lilla
started up with a wild exclamation of delight, and the anticipation of
the evening hours enabled her to obey with haughty calmness the summons
of Miss Malison. Before, however, she departed on her visit, a fresh
ebullition had taken place between the sisters in the presence of their
mother, to the great terror of Lady Helen, whose irritation at Lilla's
violence increased, as she could perceive nothing in Annie's words or
manner to call for it. Had she been less indolent, she might easily have
discovered that her elder daughter never permitted a single opportunity
to escape without eliciting Lilla's irritability. As it was, she coldly
rejected the offered caresses the really affectionate girl would have
lavished on her, as she wished her good night, and therefore it was with
a heart bursting with many mingled emotions she sought the happy home of
her beloved friends.
There gladly will we follow her, for the scenes of violence and evil
passion we have slightly touched on are not subjects on which we love to
linger.