While Willoughby is travelling towards Lady Palliser's, or rather Lady
Caroline Montague's magnificent country seat, we shall endeavour to
account for some of those contradictory circumstances and
inconsistencies of manner which to him seemed so unaccountable; or
rather for which he was so unwilling to account by that solution which
yet pressed itself upon his judgment as most probable.
Caroline, though from her extreme timidity the worst of actresses, had
yet ventured to form a vaguely conceived plan, for the execution of
which she hoped one time or other to summon courage. In the mean while,
perhaps unconsciously, the thoughts which were passing in her mind
affected her manners, and sometimes even the expression of her
countenance, and thus led to the most fatal misconstruction of her
sentiments. Her total ignorance of the world, too, occasioned by that
want of communication with any one older than herself already mentioned,
as one of the evil results of her mother's harsh and heartless system of
education, rendered tenfold the dangers of her difficult situation.
Lady Palliser had informed her daughter that she meant to marry her to
Sir Willoughby Arden. Caroline's attempt to remonstrate had been
silenced, as usual, with the most tyrannical violence. What was to be
done?--poor Caroline felt quite unequal to open opposition: she had
recourse accordingly to the dangerous expedient alluded to. She resolved
to make a friend of Sir Willoughby; and the first time that by a
declaration of his sentiments he gave her an opportunity of speaking on
such a subject, to cast herself on his compassion, and entreat him to
withdraw his addresses, without making it known to her mother that she
had rejected him. This it was which gave to her manner that gentle
acquiescence in his attentions, and especially that willingness to
listen, which it is impossible to define, but which is, above all
things, encouraging to a lover. And this it was which at Lady Arden's
ball had produced the scene of misunderstanding, from which Willoughby
re-appeared in the dancing room with a countenance so delighted. The
interview in the veranda had commenced by some lover-like speeches,
which, while they could not be misunderstood, did not absolutely call
for reply: and Caroline, unwilling to seem too ready to comprehend,
became uneasy and anxious, but yet did not speak. The ardour of
Willoughby's manner increased; more than once Caroline moved her lips to
commence her difficult task, but no sound proceeded from them; while
every moment she grew more miserably conscious that her silence would
be--must be misconstrued. At length, by way of exordium, she murmured a
few scarcely audible words, thanking him for his flattering preference;
but what she wished to add required so much courage--so much
explanation, that she knew not how to proceed. She faltered, and became
silent; and while striving to find words in which to recommence, she
suffered so intensely from the tumult of her agitation, that she lost
much of the purport of the enthusiastic declarations of attachment which
Willoughby was now pouring forth. When he began, however, to talk of his
gratitude for the favourable hearing she had granted him, she felt the
necessity of speaking, and in fearful trepidation commenced: "The--the
confidence I--I am about to place in--in you, Sir Willoughby----"
"Will never be abused by me," he exclaimed, with fervour.
"I--I fear--" she recommenced, colouring, stammering, and withdrawing
her hand gently, but in the utmost confusion. At this moment several
other couples, who seemed to have just discovered the veranda, entered
from different windows almost simultaneously.
"May I then call to-morrow morning?" said Willoughby, in a hasty
whisper, "and be permitted to----"
"Yes; but speak to me alone!" she replied, resolving that to-morrow she
would make the painful explanation, now more than ever necessary. It was
on their returning to the dancing-room at this juncture, that Alfred had
remarked the delighted expression of Willoughby's countenance.
The last injunction of Caroline, to speak to her alone, sounded odd; but
surely it was kind and encouraging. The whole interview, in short,
amounted to as favourable a reception of his now fully declared passion
as he could desire. In the course of the evening he found an opportunity
in an aside conversation with Lady Palliser, of expressing his rapturous
hopes, and alluding to the visit he was to pay by permission on the next
morning.
The ball concluded--the morning arrived--and Lady Palliser at breakfast
told her daughter that she was happy to find from Sir Willoughby, that
she had shown a proper sense of obedience, in accepting the offer of his
hand, which he had made her the evening before.
Poor Caroline's attempt at manoeuvring was thus entirely defeated. She
had, as we have stated, resolved to entreat Sir Willoughby, by
withdrawing his addresses apparently of his own accord, to shelter her
from the rage of her mother; but she was quite unprepared for taking
herself an active part in the deception, and maintaining that part by
bold and decided falsehood: completely thrown off her guard, she
exclaimed with fervour, "Oh no, no! he has entirely misunderstood me; I
feared he had, but I have not accepted him--I never can--I never will
accept him!"
"Do you dare assert that you will not obey my commands?" said Lady
Palliser, rising, and assuming that fierceness of aspect before which
our heroine habitually trembled.
Caroline sunk on her knees, and promising never to listen to any one of
whom her mother did not approve, only intreated permission to remain
single.
Lady Palliser was well aware that her daughter might at her leisure
command many much more splendid matches than the one now in agitation;
but in the first place she was determined, from the spirit of tyranny,
to be obeyed; added to which there was a second motive, which though too
contemptible to be confessed even to herself, had no doubt a certain
influence on her present conduct.
The time had been when the loveliness of the infant, held on the knee
purposely for effect, had added interest to the matured and lustrous
charms of the beautiful mother: but now that mother and daughter had
become two distinct objects, and that the eye of the beholder not
unfrequently passed with hasty indifference over the still striking
countenance of the former, to pause in evident delight on the fresher
charms of the latter, an irksome sense of secret mortification
incessantly assailed Lady Palliser. In childhood she had treated
Caroline with harshness, from the united effect of a worthless nature,
and a mistaken plan of education; but now the constant proximity of one
who was the innocent cause of the diminution of those triumphs which had
hitherto formed the sole charm of her existence, was becoming irksome to
her; and awaking feelings closely allied to angry aversion! And
therefore it was though, as we have said, she would have blushed to have
confessed it to her own heart, that her ladyship was impatient to rid
herself of annoyances such as these; of, in short, the meek unconscious
rival who was, notwithstanding, the only being that had ever disputed
with her the reign of vanity she had so long enjoyed, and even still
felt that she recovered whenever she appeared in public without her
daughter. For it must be allowed that her ladyship's beauty was at the
very time of which we speak, still of so striking and splendid a
character, that it lost little by comparison with any loveliness but
that of Caroline, whose similarity of feature seemed to render the
advantageous dissimilarities of extreme youth and infinite superiority
of expression peculiarly conspicuous.