There was thought, deep thought, engraved on Mrs. Hamilton's expressive
countenance, as she sat beside a small table, her head leaning on her
hand, anxious, perhaps even painful, visions occupying her reflective
mind. The evening was gradually darkening into twilight, but still she
did not move, nor was it till a well-known tap sounded at the door, and
her husband stood before her, that she looked up.
"Will you not let your husband share these anxious thoughts, my
Emmeline?" he said, as he gazed earnestly on her face.
"My husband may perhaps think them silly and unfounded fancies," she
replied, with a faint smile.
"He is so prone to do so," answered Mr. Hamilton, in an accent of
playful reproach; "but if you will not tell me, I must guess them--you
are thinking of our Caroline?"
"Arthur, I am," she said, with almost startling earnestness; "oh, you
cannot tell how anxiously! I know not whether I am right to expose her
to the temptations of the world; I know her disposition, I see the evils
that may accrue from it, and yet, even as if I thought not of their
existence, I expose her to them. Oh, my husband, can this be right? can
I be doing a parent's duty?"
"We should not, my beloved, be fulfilling the duties of our station, did
we not sometimes mingle in society: all our duty is not comprised in
domestic life. It is when we retain our integrity unsullied, our
restraining principles unchanged in the midst of temptations, that we
show forth, even to the thoughtless, the spirit that actuates us, and by
example may do good. Besides, remember, dearest, we are not about to
enter into continued and incessant dissipation, which occupies the
existence of so many; we have drawn a line, and Caroline loves her
parents too well to expect or wish to pass its boundary. Remember, too,
the anxious fears which were yours when Percy was about to enter into
scenes of even stronger temptation than those which will surround his
sister; and have they had foundation? Has not the influence of his
mother followed him there, and restrained him even at the moment of
trial, and will not the influence of that mother do the same for
Caroline?"
"Percy is, indeed, all my heart could wish," replied Mrs. Hamilton,
still somewhat sadly; "but his disposition is different to that of
Caroline's. I know his confidence in me is such, and his affection so
strong, that for my sake he would do more than those who but slightly
know him would imagine. When a son really loves his mother, it is a
different, perhaps a more fervid, feeling than that ever known by a
daughter. He feels bound to protect, to cherish, and that very knowledge
of power heightens his affections."
"You do not doubt your daughters' love, my Emmeline? must I accuse you
of injustice too?"
"No, dearest Arthur, I do not doubt their love; for my Emmeline I do not
tremble. Her confidence I shall never lose; her affections, however I
may be called upon to exert my authority, will never waver, and
completely opposite as are the feelings with which she and Percy regard
me, their love may be equally intense. But forgive me, my dear husband,
I may be unjust, and if I am may my child forgive me; I am not--oh, that
I were--equally confident in my Caroline. She loves me, but that
affection, I know, does not prevent her thinking me harsh and unkind, if
my wishes interfere with hers. My authority is not the same with her as
it is to her sister and cousin. She seeks another confidential friend
besides her mother, for she dreads my opinions differing from hers. I
have marked her thus in early childhood, and it still exists, though her
temper is more controlled, her disposition, more improved. The last few
years she has been thrown almost entirely with me, and not much above a
twelvemonth since she shrunk from the idea of confiding in any one as
she did in me."
"And while that confidence exists, my Emmeline, you surely have no
right to fear."
"But it is waning, Arthur. The last month I know, I feel it is
decreasing. She is no longer the same open-hearted girl with me as she
was so lately at Oakwood. She is withdrawing her confidence from her
mother, to bestow it on one whom I feel assured is unworthy of it."
"Nay, Emmeline, your anxiety must be blinding you; you are too anxious."
His wife answered him not in words, but she raised her expressive eyes
to his face, and he saw they were filled with tears.
"Nay, nay, my beloved!" he exclaimed, as he folded her to his bosom,
struck with sudden self-reproach. "Have my unkind words called forth
these tears? forgive me, my best love; I think I love my children, but I
know not half the depths of a mother's tenderness, my Emmeline, nor that
clear-sightedness which calls for disquietude so much sooner in her
gentle heart than in a father's. But can we in no way prevent the growth
of that intimacy of which I know you disapprove?"
"No, my dearest Arthur, it must now take its course. Pain as it is to
me, I will not rudely check my child's affections, _that_ will not bring
them back to me. She may, one day, discover her error, and will then
gladly return to that love, that tenderness, of which she now thinks but
lightly. I must endeavour to wait till that day comes, with all the
patience I can teach my heart to feel," she added, with a smile.
"Perhaps I am demanding more than is my due. It is not often we find
young girls willing to be contented with their mother only as a friend;
they pine for novelty, for companions of their own age, whom they
imagine can sympathise better in their feelings. A child is all in all
to a mother, though a parent is but one link in the life of a child; yet
my children have so long looked on me as a friend, that, perhaps, I feel
this loss of confidence the more painfully."
"But you will regain it, my Emmeline; our Caroline is only dazzled now,
she will soon discover the hollowness of Annie's professions of
everlasting friendship."
Mrs. Hamilton shook her head.
"I doubt it, my dear husband. The flattering warmth with which Annie
first met Caroline has disappointed me. I thought and hoped that here,
surrounded by all her fashionable acquaintances, she would rather have
neglected her former friends, and Caroline's pride taking umbrage, their
intimacy would have been at once dissolved. Instead of this, Annie never
fails to treat her with the most marked distinction, evidently appearing
to prefer her much above her other friends; and, therefore, as in this
instance Caroline has found my warnings and suspicions needless and
unjust, she is not likely to permit my opinion of Annie to gain much
ascendancy."
"But deceived as we have been in this instance, my dear Emmeline, may we
not be so in other points of Annie's character? She is evidently devoted
to fashion and fashionable pleasures, but still there may be some good
qualities lurking round her heart, which her intimacy with Caroline may
bring forward."
"I hope it may be so," replied Mrs. Hamilton, fervently, though somewhat
doubtingly. "For her father's sake, as well as that of my child's, I
wish her disposition may be different to that which I, perhaps
uncharitably, believe it. You must give me a portion of your sanguine
and trusting hopes, my dearest Arthur," she continued, fondly laying her
hand in his.
Mr. Hamilton returned a playful answer, and endeavoured to turn the
thoughts of his wife to other and more pleasurable subjects. Anxiety
such as hers could not be entirely dispelled, but it was lessened, for
she had imparted it to her husband, and his watchful care would combine
with her own to guard their child.
Very different were Caroline's feelings on this important night. Mrs.
Hamilton's fears and Annie's hopes were both well founded. We have known
the character of Caroline from a child; and though the last three or
four years it had so improved, that at Oakwood, Mrs. Hamilton had
ventured to banish fear, and indulge in every pleasing hope, yet there
was a degree of pride still remaining, that revolted very frequently
from the counsels even of her mother; that high and independent spirit
sometimes in secret longed to throw off the very slight restraint in
which she felt held at home. She could not bear to feel that she was in
any way controlled; she longed for the exercise of power, and by the
display of that beauty, those qualities, she knew she possessed, force
herself to be acknowledged as a girl of far more consequence than she
appeared to be when in the quiet halls of Oakwood. There nothing ever
occurred to call these feelings forth, but they were only dormant, and
in London they obtained much greater sway. She felt more controlled than
ever by her mother. Secretly she pined to free herself from that which
she magnified into thraldom, but which was but the watchful tenderness
of a devoted parent; and when the representations, sympathy, and
persuasions of Annie were listened to, no wonder these feelings
increased. Cautiously Miss Grahame had worked: she continually spoke of
the freedom she enjoyed; she introduced her friend to some young ladies
who were continually speaking of the delights of independence both in
act and word. Once introduced, they said they were emancipated from the
labour of the schoolroom, they could employ themselves as they liked, go
out when they pleased, and their mothers never interfered with their
amusements, except to see that they were becomingly dressed, chaperon
them to balls, and second all their efforts at fascination.
The restraint which, when compared with these, Caroline could not but
feel was hers at home, of course became more and more intolerable. In
confidence, she imparted to Annie her discontent. For the first time she
confided in another, feelings she shrunk from imparting to her mother,
and once such a confidential intimacy commenced, she neither could nor
would draw back. Annie artfully appeared to soothe, while in reality she
heightened the discontent and even indignation of her friend. Yes;
Caroline by slow degrees became even indignant at the conduct of that
mother whose every thought, whose most fervent prayer was for the
happiness of her children; and she looked to this night as the beginning
of a new era, when she allowed herself to hope, with the assistance of
Annie, she would gradually escape from control, and act as other girls
of spirit did.
There was another subject on which, by the advice of Annie, Caroline
carefully refrained from speaking at home, and that was Lord Alphingham,
a handsome and elegant viscount, who it may be remembered had been
mentioned in Annie's conversation with Miss Malison; and yet it would
appear strange that such was Miss Grahame's counsel, when Mr. Hamilton
frequently spoke of the viscount with every mark of approbation due to
his public conduct; of his private little was known, and still less
inquired. He was famous in the Upper House--an animated and eloquent
speaker--seconding and aiding with powerful influence all Grahame's
endeavours in the Lower House, and rendering himself to the latter a
most able and influential friend. His brilliant qualities, both as a
member of parliament and of polite society, rendered him universally
courted; yet notwithstanding this, Mr. Hamilton had never invited him to
his house.
"His public character, as far at least as it meets our eye, is
unquestionably worthy of admiration," he had said one day to his wife,
"but I know nothing more; of his private character and conduct I am and
must remain ignorant, and therefore I will not expose my children to the
fascination of his society in the intimacy of home."
Mrs. Hamilton had agreed with him, but it required not the "intimacy of
home" to give Annie an opportunity of persuading Caroline towards
secretly accepting his attentions, and making an impression in his
favour on her heart; and the latter looked to her _entrée_ with the more
pleasure, as she hoped, and with some justice, it would give her many
more opportunities of meeting him than she now enjoyed. She saw before
her, in imagination, a long train of captives whom she would enslave,
still Lord Alphingham in all stood pre-eminent; and visions of varied
nature, but all equally brilliant, floated before her eyes, as she
prepared for the grand ball which, for the first time in her life, she
was about to join.
The business of the toilette was completed, and we might forgive the
proud smile of exultation which curled round her lip, as she gazed on
the large pier glass which reflected her whole figure. The graceful
folds of the rich white silk that formed her robe suited well with the
tall and commanding form they encircled. The radiant clasp of diamonds
securing the braid of pearls which twined the dark glossy hair,
glittered with unusual brilliancy on that noble yet haughty brow, and
heightened the dazzling beauty of her countenance. The dark eyes
sparkling with animation, her cheek possessing the rose of buoyant youth
and health, the Grecian nose, the lip, which even pride could not rob of
its beauty, all combined to form a face lovely indeed. Fanny had gazed
and admired her young lady with suppressed exclamations of delight,
which were strangely at variance with the sigh that at that instant
sounded on Caroline's ear; she turned hastily and beheld her mother, who
was gazing on her with looks of such excessive tenderness, that a
strange pang of self-reproach darted through her heart, although it was
instantly banished by the fancy, that if it was with a sigh her mother
regarded her on such a night, how could she look for sympathy in the
pleasure then occupying her mind. At Oakwood every feeling, every
anticipation would have been instantly imparted, but now she only longed
to meet Annie, that to her all might be told without restraint. Painful,
indeed, was this unwonted silence of a child to the fond heart of Mrs.
Hamilton, but she refused to notice it. Much, very much, did she wish
to say, but she saw by the countenance of her daughter it might be
considered mistimed; yet to launch the beautiful girl she saw before her
into the labyrinth of the world, without uttering one word of the
thoughts which were thronging on her mind, she felt was impossible. They
might not have the effect she wished, yet she would do her duty.
Desiring Fanny to take her young lady's shawl down stairs, she gently
detained Caroline as she was about to follow her.
"Listen to me but for a few minutes, my love," she said, in that
affectionate yet impressive tone, which seldom failed to arrest the
attention of her children, "and forgive me, if my words fall harshly and
coldly on your excited fancy. I know well the feelings that are yours,
though you perhaps think I do not, by the involuntary sigh you heard,
and I can sympathise with them, though lately you have refused to seek
my sympathy. Bright as are your anticipations, reality for a time will
be still brighter. Brilliant will be the scenes of enchantment in which
you will mingle,--brilliant indeed, for you are beautiful, my
Caroline--and admiration on all sides will be your own. Why should you
look on me with surprise, my child? that beauty on which perhaps my
heart has often dwelt too proudly, is not my gift nor of your creation.
The Great Being who has given you those charms of face and form will
mark how His gift is used; and oh, forget not for one moment His
all-seeing eye is as much upon you in the crowded ball as in the
retirement of your own room. You will be exposed to more temptations
than have yet been yours; the most dangerous temptations, adulation,
triumph, exciting pleasures of every kind, will be around you. The
world in radiant beauty will loudly call upon you to follow it alone, to
resign all things to become its votary; the trial of prosperity will
indeed be yours. Caroline, my child, for my sake, if not for your own,
resist them all. My happiness is in your hands. Seek your God in this
ordeal, even more than you would in that of adversity; there the spirit
naturally flies from earth, here it clings tenaciously to the world.
Pray to Him to resist the temptations that will surround--implore him to
teach you the best use of those charms He has bestowed on you. Forsake
him not; Caroline, I conjure you, be not drawn away from Him. Do not let
your thoughts be so wholly engrossed by pleasure as to prevent your
bestowing on Him but one hour of your day. Let me clasp my child to my
heart, when we return to Oakwood, unsullied, untouched by the stains of
the world. Let me have the blessed comfort of seeing my Caroline return
to the home of her childhood the same innocent happy being she was when
she left. I have ever endeavoured to make you happy, to give you those
pleasures you naturally desire, to form your character not only for the
happiness of this world, but for that of the next; then if you are ever
tempted to do wrong, if no higher consideration bids you pause, think on
your mother, Caroline; remember my happiness or misery greatly depends
on you, and, oh, if you have ever loved me, pause ere you proceed."
"Mother, do not doubt me; Caroline Hamilton will never sully the name
she bears," replied Caroline, her eye flashing, and speaking proudly, to
conceal the emotion her mother's words had involuntarily produced.
Mrs. Hamilton gazed on the haughty and satisfied security the features
of her child expressed. A more softened feeling would at that moment
better have pleased the yearning heart of the mother, but she checked
the rising sigh of disappointment, and folding Caroline to her bosom,
she imprinted a fond kiss on her noble brow, and murmuring, "God in
heaven bless you, my child, and grant you sufficient strength," they
descended the stairs together.
Brilliant indeed was the scene that met the dazzled eyes of Caroline, as
she entered the elegant suite of rooms of the Duchess of Rothbury. The
highest rank, the greatest talent, the loveliest of beauty's daughters,
the manliest and noblest of her sons, were all assembled in that flood
of light which every apartment might be termed. Yet could the varied
countenances of these noble crowds have clearly marked the character
within, what a strange and varied page in the book of human life might
that ball have unfolded.
But various as are the characters that compose an assemblage such as
this, the tone is generally given by the character and manner of the
lady of the house, and her Grace the Duchess of Rothbury was admirably
fitted for the position she filled. A daughter of fashion, bred up from
her earliest years in scenes of luxury and pomp, she had yet escaped the
selfishness, the artificial graces, which are there generally
predominant. She had married early in life, a marriage _à la mode_, that
is to say, not of love, but of interest on the part of her parents, and
on her own, dazzled, perhaps, by the exalted rank of the man who had
made her an offer of his hand. They were happy. The highly-principled
mind of the Duchess revolted from that conduct which would, even in the
_on dit_ of a censorious world, have called the very faintest whisper
on her name; and her husband, struck by the unwavering honour and
integrity of her conduct, gradually deserted the haunts of ignoble
pleasures which he had been wont to frequent, and paid her those marks
of consideration and respect, both in public and private life, which she
so greatly deserved. A large family had been the fruits of this union,
all of whom, except her two youngest daughters and two of her sons, were
married, and to the satisfaction of their parents. There was a degree of
reserve, amounting to severity, in the character of the Duchess, which
prevented that same affectionate confidence between her and her children
as subsisted in Mr. Hamilton's family. Yet she had been a kind and
careful mother, and her children ever proved, that surrounded as she
constantly was by the fashionable and the gay, she had presided over the
education of her daughters, and been more than usually particular in the
choice of governesses. Violent as she might be considered in her
prejudices for and against, yet there was that in her manner which alike
prevented the petty feelings of dislike and envy, and equally debarred
her from being regarded with any of that warm affection, for which no
one imagined how frequently she had pined. She stood alone, respected,
by many revered, and she was now content with this, though her youth had
longed for somewhat more. Her chosen friend, spite of the difference of
rank, had been Mr. Hamilton's mother, and she had watched with the
jealousy of true friendship the object of Arthur Hamilton's love.
A brief yet penetrating survey of Emmeline Manvers' character she took,
and was satisfied. The devotion of Mrs. Hamilton, for so many years, to
her children she had ever admired, and frequently defended her with
warmth when any one ventured before her to condemn her conduct. Mr. and
Mrs. Hamilton regarded her with reverence and affection, and were
gratified at that kindness which insisted that the _entrée_ of Caroline
should take place at her house.
The Earl and Countess Elmore were also pre-eminent among the
guests--young, noble, exquisitely lovely, the latter at once riveted all
eyes, yet by the graceful dignity of her manner, repelled all advances
of familiarity. She might have been conscious of her charms, she could
not fail to be, but she only valued them as having attracted towards her
the man she loved. She only used them to endear him to his home; and it
was when alone with the Earl, that the sweet playfulness of her
character was displayed to its full extent, and scarcely could he then
believe her the same being who in society charmed as much by her dignity
and elegance, as by her surpassing beauty. The family of the Marquis of
Malvern were also present; they had been long known to Mr. and Mrs.
Hamilton, who were glad to resume an intimacy which had been checked by
their retirement, but which had ever been remembered with mutual
pleasure. The Earl of St. Eval, eldest son of the Marquis, might have
been thought by many, who only knew him casually, as undeserving of the
high renown he enjoyed; and many young ladies would have wondered at
Emmeline Hamilton's undisguised admiration. Handsome he certainly was
not; yet intelligence and nobleness were stamped upon that broad
straight, brow, and those dark eyes were capable at times of speaking
the softest emotions of the human heart. But it was only when he
permitted himself to speak with energy that his countenance was
displayed to advantage, and then the bright rays of intellect and
goodness which gilded every feature, aided by the eloquent tones of his
full rich voice, would have made the most careless turn and look again,
and ask why they admired; but such times were few. Reserved, almost
painfully so, he was generally prone in such scenes as this to stand
alone, for few indeed were those of either sex with whom the soul of
Eugene St. Eval could hold commune; but this night there was more
animation than usual glittering in his dark eyes. He was the first of
the admiring crowd to join Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton's party, and petition
for the hand of Caroline in the next quadrille. It was with a smile of
proud satisfaction her father relinquished her to the young man, for she
had consented, although the watchful eye of her mother observed her
glance round the room, as if in search for some other, and a shade of
disappointment pass over her brow, that said her search was fruitless;
that feeling was but momentary, however. She joined the festive throng,
and her young heart beat quicker as she met the many glances of
undisguised admiration fixed constantly upon her. Seldom had Mr.
Hamilton been so beset as he was that night by the number of young men
who pressed forward to implore him for an introduction to his beautiful
daughter; and Caroline's every anticipation of triumph was indeed
fulfilled. Her mother was right. Reality was in this case far more
dazzling than even imagination had been. There were many in that
splendid scene equally, perhaps even more beautiful than Caroline
Hamilton, but she possessed the charm of which almost all around her
were deprived, that of novelty. She was, indeed, a novice amid scenes of
fashion, and the genuine pleasure her countenance expressed, appeared a
relief when compared to many around her. The name of Hamilton had never
been entirely forgotten in London. Their singularity in living so long
in unbroken retirement had been by many ridiculed, by others condemned,
as an attempt to appear better than their neighbours; and many were the
speculations as to whether the saintly Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton would
really do such a wicked thing as introduce their daughters into society,
or whether they would keep the poor girls in the country like nuns, to
be moped to death. Great, therefore, was the astonishment of some, and
equally great the pleasure to others, when Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton
reappeared amongst their London friends; and that night the warm
greetings of many old friends who thronged around them, eager to
introduce to their notice the young members of their families, afforded
a pleasing satisfaction to the heart of Mrs. Hamilton, whose gentle
courtesy and winning smile they found had not in the least deserted her.
The feelings of a mother swelled warmly within her as she gazed on her
child; her fond heart throbbed with chastened pride, as she marked the
unfeigned and respectful admiration Caroline received, and these
emotions, combined with the pleasure she felt at beholding again
well-remembered faces, and hearing the glad tones of eager greeting,
caused this evening to be equally as pleasurable to her, though in a
different way, as it was to Caroline.
The attentions of Eugene St. Eval to Miss Hamilton continued as
unintermitting as they were respectful the whole of that night; and
Caroline, if she did not encourage, certainly forbade them not. She
listened to him with more attention; she appeared more animated with him
than with any of her other partners, one perhaps, alone excepted, and
yet she had taught her young heart to receive impressions to his
prejudice, which Annie never permitted an opportunity to pass without
carefully instilling. Why did she then permit his attentions? She knew
not; while listening to his voice, there was a fascination about him she
could not resist, but in her solitary hours she studiously banished his
image to give place to one whom, by the representations of Annie, she
persuaded herself that she loved alone.
Genuine, indeed, had been the enjoyment of Caroline Hamilton, from the
first moment she had entered the ball-room; but if it could be
heightened, it was when, about the middle of the evening, Lord
Alphingham entered. A party of gay young men instantly surrounded him,
but breaking from them all, he attached himself the greater part of the
night to Mr. Hamilton. Only two quadrilles he danced with Caroline, but
they were enough to aid the schemes of Annie. She was at hand to excite,
to an almost painful degree, the mind of her friend, to speak in
rapturous praise of Lord Alphingham, to chain him now and then to her
side, and yet so contrive, that the whole of his conversation was with
Caroline; and yet the conduct of Annie Grahame had been such that night
as rather to excite the admiration than the censure of Mr. Hamilton.
Playfully he combated the prejudice of his wife, who as sportively owned
that Miss Grahame's conduct in society was different to that she had
anticipated; but her penetrative mind felt not the more at ease when she
thought on the friendship that subsisted between Annie and her child.
"Am I dreaming, or is it Mrs. Hamilton I again behold?" exclaimed an
elderly gentleman, as she came forward, and hastily advancing, seized
both her hands, and pressed them with unfeigned warmth and pleasure,
which greeting Mrs. Hamilton as cordially returned. He was a very old
friend of her father's, and had attained by promotion his present high
rank of Admiral of the Blue, but had been the first captain under whose
orders her lamented brother sailed. Very many, therefore, were the
associations that filled her mind as she beheld him, and her mild eyes
for a moment glistened in uncontrollable emotion.
"How very many changes have taken place since we have come alongside,
Mrs. Hamilton," the old veteran said, gazing on the blooming matron
before him with almost paternal pleasure. "Poor Delmont! could his kind
heart have borne up against the blow of poor Charles's fate, he surely
would have been happy, if all the tales I hear of his daughter Emmeline
be true."
"Come and judge for yourself, Sir George; my home must ever be open to
my father's dearest friend," replied Mrs. Hamilton, endeavouring by
speaking playfully to conceal the painful reminiscences called forth by
his words. "I will not vouch for the truth of anything you may have
heard about us in London. You must contrive to moor your ship into the
harbour of Oakwood, and thus gratify us all."
"Ay, ay; take care that I do not cast anchor there so long, that you
will find the best thing will be to cut the cables, send me adrift, and
thus get rid of me," replied the old sailor, delighted at her addressing
him in nautical phrase. "Your appearance here has belied half the
stories I heard; so now that you have given me permission, I shall set
sail to discover the truth of the rest."
"You heard, I suppose, that Mr. Hamilton never intended his children to
visit London? They were too good, too--what may I term it?--too perfect,
to mingle with their fellow-creatures; is not that it, Admiral?"
demanded Mrs. Hamilton, with a smile.
"Ay, ay; something very like it,--but glad to see the wind is changed
from that corner. Don't like solitude, particularly for young
folks,--and how many are here?"
"Of my children?" The veteran nodded. "But one, my eldest girl. I do not
consider her sister quite old enough to be introduced."
"And you left her in harbour, and only permitted one frigate to cruise.
If she had any of her uncle Charles's spirit, she would have shown some
little insubordination at that piece of discipline, Mrs. Hamilton," said
the old man, joyously.
"Not if my authority is established somewhat like Sir George's, on the
basis of affection," replied Mrs. Hamilton, again smiling.
"Ay, you have learnt that secret of government, have you? Now who would
think this was the little quiet girl I had dandled on my knee, and told
her tales of storm and war that made her shudder? And where are your
sons?"
"Both at college."
"What, neither of them a chip of the old block, and neither of them for
the sea? Don't like their taste. No spirit of salt-water within them."
"But neither of them deficient in spirit for a life on shore. But,
however, to set your heart at ease, for the naval honour of our family,
Sir George, I have a nephew, who, I think, some few years hence will
prove a brave and gallant son of Neptune. The accounts we have of him
are most pleasing. He has inherited all poor Charles's spirit and
daring, as well as that true courage, for which you have said my brother
was so remarkable."
"Glad of it--glad of it; but what nephew? who is he? A nephew of Mr.
Hamilton's will not raise the glory of the Delmont family; and you had
only one brother, if I remember rightly?"
"Have you quite forgotten the beautiful girl, who, when I last had the
pleasure of meeting you in such a scene as this, was the object of
universal attraction? You surely remember my father's favourite Eleanor,
Sir George?"
"Eleanor--Eleanor--let me think;" and the old sailor for a moment put
himself in a musing attitude, and then starting, exclaimed, "to be sure
I do; the loveliest girl I ever cast eyes upon;--and what has become of
her? By the bye, there was some story about her, was there not? She
chose a husband for herself, and ran off, and broke her poor father's
heart. Where is she now?"
"Let her faults be forgotten, my dear Sir George," replied Mrs.
Hamilton, with some emotion. "They were fully, painfully repented. Let
them die with her."
"Die! Is she, too, dead? What, that graceful sylph, that exquisite
creature I see before me now, in all the pride of conscious loveliness!"
and the veteran drew his rough hand across his eyes in unfeigned
emotion, then hastily recovering himself, he said, "and this boy--this
sailor is her son. I can hardly believe it possible. Why he surely
cannot be old enough to go to sea."
"You forget the number of years that have passed, Sir George. Edward is
now eighteen, as old, if not older, than his mother was when you last
saw her."
"And when did poor Eleanor die?"
"Six years ago. She had been left a widow in India, and only reached her
native land to breathe her last in my arms. You will be pleased, I
think, with her daughter, though, on second thought, perhaps, she may
not be quite lively enough for you; however, I must beg your notice for
her, as her attachment to her brother is so excessive, that all relating
to the sea is to her in the highest degree interesting."
"And do your sister's children live with you--had their father no
relations?"
"None; and even if he had, I should have petitioned to bring them up and
adopt them as my own. Poor children, when their mother died, their
situation was indeed melancholy. Helpless orphans of ten and scarcely
twelve, cast on a strange land, without one single friend to whom they
could look for succour or protection. My heart bled for them, and never
once have I regretted my decision."
The old man looked at her glowing cheek in admiration, and pressing her
hand, he said warmly, prefacing his words, as he always did, with the
affirmative "ay, ay."
"Your father's daughter must be somewhat different to others of her
rank. I must come and see you, positively I must. Wind and tide will be
strongly against me, if you do not see me in a few days anchoring off
your coast. No storms disturb your harbour, I fancy. But what has become
of your husband--your daughter? let me see all I can belonging to you.
Come, Mrs. Hamilton, crowd sail, and tow me at once to my wished for
port."
Entering playfully into the veteran's humour, Mrs. Hamilton took his arm
and returned to the ball-room, where she was speedily joined by her
husband, who welcomed Sir George Wilmot with as much warmth and
cordiality as his wife had done, and as soon as the quadrille was
finished, a glance from her mother brought Caroline and her partner,
Lord Alphingham, to her side.
The astonishment of Sir George, as Mrs. Hamilton introduced the blooming
girl before him as her daughter, was so irresistibly comic, that no one
present could prevent a smile; and that surprise was heightened when, in
answer to his supposition that she must be the eldest of Mrs. Hamilton's
family, Mrs. Hamilton replied that her two sons were both older, and
Caroline was, indeed, the youngest but one.
"Then I tell you what, Mrs. Hamilton," the old veteran said, "Old Time
has been playing tricks with me, and drawing me much nearer eternity
than I at all imagined myself, or else he has stopped with me and gone
on with you."
"Or rather, my good friend," replied Mr. Hamilton, "you can only trace
the hand of Time upon yourself, having no children in whose increasing
years you can behold him, and, therefore, he is very likely to slip the
cable before you are aware; but with us such cannot be."
"Ay, ay, Hamilton, suppose it must be so--wish I had some children of my
own, but shall come and watch Time's progress on these instead. Ah, Miss
Hamilton, why am I such an old man? I see all the youngsters running off
with the pretty girls, and I cannot venture to ask one to dance with
me."
"May I venture to ask you then, Sir George? The name of Admiral Wilmot
would be sufficient for any girl, I should think, to feel proud of her
partner, even were he much older and much less gallant than you, Sir
George," answered Caroline, with ready courtesy, for she had often heard
her mother speak of him, and his manner pleased her.
"Well, that's a pretty fair challenge, Sir George; you must take up the
glove thrown from so fair a hand," observed Lord Alphingham, with a
smile that, to Caroline, and even to her mother, rendered his strikingly
handsome features yet handsomer. "Shall I relinquish my partner?"
"No, no, Alphingham; you are better suited to her here. At home--at your
_own_ home, Miss Hamilton, one night, I shall remind you of your
promise, and we will trip it together. Now I can only thank you for your
courtesy; it has done my heart good, and reconciled me to my old age."
"I may chance to find a rival at home, Sir George. If you see my sister,
you will not be content with me. She will use every effort to surpass me
in your good graces; for when I tell her I have seen the brave admiral
whose exploits have often caused her cheek to flush with pride--patriot
pride she calls it--she will be wild till she has seen you."
"Will she--will she, indeed? Come and see her to-morrow; tell her so,
with an old man's love, and that I scolded your mother heartily for not
bringing her to-night. Mind orders; let me see if you are sailor enough
instinctively to obey an old captain's orders."
"Trust me, Sir George," replied Caroline, laughingly, and a young man at
that instant addressing her by name, she bowed gracefully to the
veteran, and turned towards him who spoke.
"Miss Hamilton, I claim your promise for this quadrille," said Lord
Henry D'Este.
"Good bye," said Sir George. "I shall claim you for my partner when I
see you at home."
"St. Eval dancing again. Merciful powers! we certainly shall have the
roof tumbling over our heads," exclaimed Lord Henry, as he and Caroline
found themselves _vis à vis_ to the earl of whom he spoke.
"Why, is it so very extraordinary that a young man should dance?"
demanded Caroline.
"A philosopher as he is, decidedly. You do not know him, Miss Hamilton.
He travelled all over Europe, I believe, really for the sake of
improvement, instead of enjoying all the fun he might have had; he
stored his brain with all sorts of knowledge, collecting material and
stealing legends to write a book. I went with him part of the way, but
became so tired of my companion, that I turned recreant and fled, to
enjoy a more spirited excursion of my own. I tell him, whenever I want a
lecture on all subjects, I shall come to him. I call him the Walking
Cyclopaedia, and only fancy such a personage dancing a quadrille. What
lady can have the courage to turn over the leaves of the Cyclopaedia in
a quadrille? let me see. Oh, Lady Lucy Melville, our noble hostess's
daughter. She pretends to be a bit of a blue, therefore they are not so
ill-matched as I imagined; however, she is not very bad--not a deep
blue, only just tinged with celestial azure. Sweet creature, how you
will be edified before your lesson is over. Look, Miss Hamilton, on the
other side of the Cyclopaedia. That good lady has been the last seven
years dancing with all her might and main for a husband. There is
another, striving, by an air of elegant hauteur, to prove she is
something very great, when really she is nothing at all. There's a girl
just introduced, as our noble poet says."
"Take care, take care, Lord Henry; you are treading on dangerous
ground," exclaimed Caroline, unable to prevent laughing at the comic
manner in which her companion criticised the dancers. "You forget that I
too have only just been released, and that this is only my first glimpse
of the world."
"You do me injustice, Miss Hamilton. I am too delightfully and
refreshingly reminded of that truth to forget it for one instant. You
may have only just made your _début_, but you have not been schooled and
scolded, and frightened into propriety as that unfortunate girl has. If
she has smiled once too naturally, spoken one word too much, made one
step wrong, or said sir, my lord, your lordship, once too often, she
will have such a lecture to-morrow, she will never wish to go to a ball
again."
"Poor girl!" said Caroline, in a tone of genuine pity, which caused a
smile from her partner.
"She is not worthy of your pity, Miss Hamilton; she is hardened to it
all. What a set we are dancing with, men and women, all heartless alike;
but I want to know what magic wand has touched St. Eval. I do believe it
must be your eyes, Miss Hamilton. He talks to his partner, and looks at
you; tries to do two things at once, listen to her, and hear your voice.
You are the enchantress, depend upon it."
A glow of triumph burned on the heart of Caroline at these words. For
though rather prejudiced against St. Eval by the arts of Annie, still,
to make an impression on one whom she had heard was invulnerable to all,
to make the calm, and some said, severely stoical, St. Eval bend beneath
her power, was a triumph she determined to achieve. That spirit of
coquetry so fatal to her aunt, the ill-fated Eleanor, was as innate in
the bosom of Caroline; no opportunity had yet offered to give it play,
still the seeds were there, and she could not resist the temptation now
presented. Even in her childhood Mrs. Hamilton had marked this fatal
propensity. Every effort had been put in force to check it, every gentle
counsel given, but arrested in its growth though it was, erased entirely
it could not be. The principles of virtue had been too carefully
instilled, for coquetry to attain the same ascendancy and indulgence
with Caroline as it had with her aunt, yet she felt she could no longer
control the inclination which the present opportunity afforded her to
use her power.
"Do you go to the Marchioness of Malvern's fête, next week?" demanded
Lord Henry. Caroline answered in the affirmative.
"I am glad of it. The Walking Cyclopaedia may make himself as agreeable
there as he has so marvellously done to-night. You will be in fairy
land. He has brought flowers from every country, and reared them for his
mother, till they have become the admiration of all for miles around. I
told him he looked like a market gardener, collecting flowers from every
place he went to. I dragged him away several times, and told him he
would certainly be taken for a country booby, and scolded him for
demeaning his rank with such ignoble pleasures, and what wise answer do
you think he made me?"
"A very excellent one, I have no doubt."
"Or it would not come from such a learned personage, Miss Hamilton.
Really it was so philosophic, I was obliged to learn it as a lesson to
retain it. That he, superior as he deemed himself, and that wild flower
which he tended with so much care, were alike the work of Infinite
Wisdom, and as such, the study of the one could not demean the other. I
stared at him, and for the space of a week dubbed him the Preaching
Pilgrim; but I was soon tired of that, and resumed his former one, which
comprises all. I wonder at what letter the walking volume will be opened
at his mother's fête?"
"I should imagine B," said Caroline, smiling.
"B--B--what does B stand for? I have forgotten how to spell--let me see.
Ah! I have it,--excellent, admirable! Miss Hamilton. Lecture on Botany
from the Walking Cyclopaedia--bravo! We had better scrape up all our
learning, to prove we are not perfect ignoramuses on the subject."
Caroline laughingly agreed; and the quadrille being finished, Lord
Henry succeeded in persuading her to accompany him to the
refreshment-room.
In the meanwhile, perfectly unconscious that he had been the subject of
the animated conversation of his _vis à vis_, St. Eval was finding more
and more to admire in Miss Hamilton. He conducted his partner to her
seat as she desired, and then strolled towards Mr. Hamilton's party, in
the hope that Caroline would soon rejoin her mother; but Annie had been
in the refreshment-room, and she did not reappear for some little time.
Mrs. Hamilton had at length been enabled to seek Lady Helen Grahame,
with whom she remained conversing, for she felt, though the delay was
unavoidable, she partly deserved the reproach with which Lady Helen
greeted her, when she entered, for permitting the whole evening to pass
without coming near her. Mrs. Hamilton perceived, with regret, that she
was more fitted for the quiet of her own boudoir, than the glare and
heat of crowded rooms. Gently she ventured to expostulate with her on
her endeavours, and Lady Helen acknowledged she felt quite unequal to
the exertion, but that the persuasions of her daughter had brought her
there. She was too indolent to add, she had seen nothing of Annie the
whole evening; nor did she wish to say anything that might increase the
disapprobation with which she sometimes felt, though Annie heeded it
not, Mrs. Hamilton regarded her child. It was admiration, almost
veneration, which Lady Helen felt for Mrs. Hamilton, and no one could
have imagined how very frequently the indolent but well-meaning woman
had regretted what she deemed was her utter inability to act with the
same firmness that characterised her friend. She was delighted at the
notice Lilla ever received from her; but blinded by the artful manners
of her elder girl, she often wished that Annie had been the favourite
instead. There was somewhat in Mrs. Hamilton's manner that night that
caused her to feel her own inferiority more than ever; but no
self-reproach mingled with the feeling. She could not be like her, and
then why should she expect or deplore what was impossible. Leaning on
Mrs. Hamilton's arm, she resolved, however, to visit the ball-room, and
they reached Mr. Hamilton at the instant Grahame joined them.
"You here, Grahame!" exclaimed his friend, as he approached. "I thought
you had forsworn such things."
"I make an exception to-night," he answered. "I wished to see my fair
friend Caroline where I have longed to see her."
"You are honoured, indeed, Mrs. Hamilton," Lady Helen could not refrain
from saying. "He was not present at the _entrée_ even of his own
daughter."
"And why was I not, Lady Helen? because I would not by my presence give
the world reason to say I also approved of the very early age at which
Miss Grahame was introduced. If I do not mistake, she is four months
younger than Caroline, and yet my daughter is no longer a novice in such
scenes as these."
Lady Helen shrunk in terror from the stern glance of her husband, who
little knew the pain he inflicted; and Mrs. Hamilton hastily, but
cautiously drew her away to enter into conversation with the Marchioness
of Malvern, who was near them, which little manoeuvre quickly removed
the transient cloud; and though soon again compelled to seek the shelter
of the quiet little room she had quitted, the friendly kindness of Mrs.
Hamilton succeeded in making Lady Helen's evening end more agreeably
than it had begun.
"Are you only just released, Grahame?" demanded Lord Alphingham, who
still remained near Mr. Hamilton.
"You are less fortunate than I was, or perhaps you will think, in
parliamentary concerns, more so; but as the ball was uppermost in my
thoughts this evening, I was glad to find myself at liberty above an
hour ago."
"Is there nothing, then, stirring in the Upper House?"
"Nothing; I saw many of the noble members fast asleep, and those who
spoke said little to the purpose. When do you gentlemen of the Lower
House send up your bill? it will be a charity to give us something to
do."
"We shall be charitable then on Friday next, and I much doubt if you do
not have some warm debating work. If we succeed, it will be a glorious
triumph; the Whigs are violent against us, and they are by far the
strongest party. I depend greatly on your eloquence, Alphingham."
"It is yours to the full extent of its power, my good friend; it carries
some weight along with it, I believe, and I would gladly use it in a
good cause."
"Did you speak to-night, Grahame?" Mr. Hamilton asked, evincing by his
animated countenance an interest in politics, which, from his retired
life, no one believed that he possessed. Grahame eagerly entered into
the detail of that night's debate, and for a little time the three
gentlemen were absorbed in politics alone. The approach of Caroline and
her mother, however, caused Grahame suddenly to break off in his speech.
"A truce with debates, for the present," he gaily exclaimed. "Hamilton,
I never saw Caroline's extraordinary likeness to you till this moment.
What a noble-looking girl she is! Ah, Hamilton, I could pardon you if
you were much prouder of your children than you are."
An involuntary sigh broke from his lips as he spoke, but checking it, he
hastened to Caroline, and amused her with animated discourse, till Lord
Alphingham and Eugene St. Eval at the same instant approached, the one
to claim, the other to request, Caroline as his partner in the last
quadrille before supper. The shade of deep disappointment which passed
over the young Earl's expressive countenance as Caroline eagerly
accepted the Viscount's offered arm, and owned she had been engaged to
him some time, at once confirmed to her flattered fancy the truth of
Lord Henry's words, and occasioned a feeling near akin to pleasure in
the equally observant mother. Mrs. Hamilton shrunk with horror at the
idea of introducing her child into society merely for the purpose of
decoying a husband; but she must have been void of natural feeling had
not the thought very often crossed her mind, that the time was drawing
nigh when her daughter's earthly destiny would, in all probability, be
fixed for ever; and in the midst of the tremblings of maternal love the
natural wish would mingle, that noble rank and manly virtue might be the
endowments of him who would wed her Caroline, and amongst those noble
youths with whom she had lately mingled, she had seen but one her fond
heart deemed on all points worthy of her child, and that one was the
young Earl Eugene St. Eval. That he was attracted, her penetrating eye
could scarcely doubt, but farther she would not think; and so great was
her sensitiveness on this head, that much as she admired the young man,
she was much more reserved with him than she would have been had she
suspected nothing of his newly dawning feelings.
St. Eval did not join in the quadrille, and after lingering by Mrs.
Hamilton till she was invited to the supper-room, he aroused the
increased merriment of his tormentor, Lord Henry, by offering her his
arm, conducting her to supper, and devoting himself to her, he declared,
as if she were the youngest and prettiest girl in the room.
"Playing the agreeable to mamma, to win the good graces of _la fille_.
Admirable diplomacy; Lord St. Eval, I wish you joy of your new talent,"
maliciously remarked Lord Henry, as the Earl and his companion passed
him. A glance from those dark eyes, severe enough to have sent terror to
the soul of any less reckless than Lord Henry, was St. Eval's only
reply, and he passed on; and seldom did Mrs. Hamilton find a companion
more to her taste in a supper-room than the young Earl. The leaves of
the Walking Cyclopaedia were indeed then opened, Henry D'Este would have
said, for on very many subjects did St. Eval allow himself that evening
to converse, which, except to his mother and sisters, were ever locked
in the recesses of his own reflecting mind; but there was a kindness,
almost maternal, which Mrs. Hamilton unconsciously used to every young
person who sought her company, and that charm the young and gifted
nobleman never could resist. He spoke of her sons in a manner that could
not fail to attract a mother's heart. The six months he had spent with
them at college had been sufficient for him to form an intimate
friendship with Percy, whose endeavours to gain his esteem he had been
unable to resist; while he regretted that the reserved disposition of
Herbert, being so like his own, had prevented his knowing him so well as
his brother. He spoke too of a distant relative of Mrs. Hamilton's, the
present Lord Delmont, in whom, as the representative of her ancient
family, she was much interested. St. Eval described with eloquence the
lovely villa he occupied on the banks of Lago Guardia, near the
frontiers of the Tyrol, the health of his only sister, some few years
younger than himself, not permitting them to live in England; he had
given up all the invitations to home and pleasure held out to him by his
father-land, and retiring to Italy, devoted himself entirely to his
mother and sister.
"He is a brother and son after your own heart, Mrs. Hamilton," concluded
St. Eval, with animation, "and that is the highest compliment I can pay
him."
Mrs. Hamilton smiled, and as she gazed on the glowing features of the
young man, she thought he who could so well appreciate such virtues
could not be--nay, she knew he was not--deficient in them himself, and
stronger than ever became her secret wish; but she hastily banished it,
and gave her sole attention to the interesting subjects on which St.
Eval continued to speak.
For some few hours after supper the ball continued, with even, perhaps,
more spirit than it had commenced; but St. Eval did not ask Caroline to
dance again. He fancied she preferred Alphingham's attentions, and his
sensitive mind shrunk from being again refused. Caroline knew not the
heart of him over whom she had resolved to use her power, perhaps if she
had, she would have hesitated in her determination. The least
encouragement made his heart glow with an uncontrollable sensation of
exquisite pleasure, while repulse bade it sink back with an equal if not
a greater degree of pain. St. Eval was conscious of this weakness in his
character; he was aware that he possessed a depth of feeling, which
unless steadily controlled, would tend only to his misery; and it was
for this he clothed himself in impenetrable reserve, and obtained from
the world the character of being proud and disagreeable. He dreaded the
first entrance of love within his bosom, for instinctively he felt that
his very sensitiveness would render the passion more his misery than his
joy. We are rather sceptics in the doctrine of love at first sight, but
in this case it was fervid and enduring, as if it had risen on the solid
basis of intimacy and esteem. From the first hour he had spent in the
society of Caroline Hamilton, Eugene St. Eval loved. He tried to subdue
and conquer his newly-awakened feelings, and would think he had
succeeded, but the next hour he passed in her society brought the truth
clearer than ever before his eyes; her image alone occupied his heart.
He shrunk, in his overwrought sensitiveness, from paying her those
attentions which would have marked his preference; he did not wish to
excite the remarks of the world, nor did he feel that he possessed
sufficient courage to bear the repulse, with which, if she did not
regard him, and if she were the girl he fancied her, she would cheek his
forwardness. But his heart beat high, and it was with some difficulty he
controlled his emotion, when he perceived that Caroline refused to dance
even with Lord Alphingham on several occasions, to continue conversing
with himself. How his noble spirit would have chafed and bled, could he
have known it was love of power and coquetry that dictated her manner,
and not regard, as for the time he allowed himself to fancy.
The evening closed, the noble guests departed, and daylight had resumed
its reign over the earth by the time Mr. Hamilton's carriage stopped in
Berkeley Square. Animatedly had Caroline conversed with her parents on
the pleasures of the evening during their drive; but when she reached
her own room, when Martyn had left her, and she was alone, she was not
quite sure if a few faint whisperings of self-reproach did not in a
degree alloy the retrospection of this her first glimpse of the gay
world; but quickly--perhaps too quickly--they were banished. The
attentions of Lord Alphingham--heightened in their charm by Miss
Grahame's positive assurance to her friend that the Viscount was
attracted, there was not the very slightest doubt of it--and the
proposed pleasure of compelling the proud, reserved St. Eval to yield to
her fascinations, alone occupied her fancy. To make him her captive
would be triumph indeed. She wished, too, to show Annie she was not so
completely under control as she fancied; that she, too, could act with
the spirit of a girl of fashion; and to choose St. Eval, and
succeed--charm him to her side--force him to pay her attentions which no
other received, would, indeed, prove to her fashionable companions that
she was not so entirely governed by her mother, so very simple and
spiritless as they supposed. Her power should do that which all had
attempted in vain. Her cheek glowed, her heart burned with the bright
hope of expected triumph, and when she at length sunk to sleep, it was
to dream of St. Eval at her feet.
Oh! were the counsels, the example, the appeal of her mother all
forgotten? Was this a mother's recompense? Alas! alas!