… “Truth,
Shines on his face, like the plane of the sun!
No darkness travels o’er his brow.”
“Dignity and grace shine forth majestic:
Great nature’s ornaments!”
“I have seen Fitz-Ullin,” said Lord L., as he took his seat at the dinner
table, where, for this day, sat his daughters only, “and I like him
amazingly!” When the servants had retired, he renewed the subject, by
saying, “Fitz-Ullin is just what I should have expected from the son of
my old friend.”
Julia listened in breathless expectation, hoping to hear something of
Edmund. Frances understood her thoughts, and watched for an opportunity
of putting a judicious question.
“On sending up my name,” continued Lord L., “I was instantly admitted. He
received me with visible emotion, and said, that had he known of my being
in town, he should have waited on me. I told him, of course, that I had
but that moment arrived from Cumberland. He is extremely handsome! very
like his mother.”
“Did you ask if he knew any thing about Edmund?” enquired Frances. Julia
pressed her sister’s hand, under shelter of the table.
“Certainly,” replied Lord L., “indeed, as soon as I had spoken to him of
his father, and made some few preliminary remarks, I opened the subject,
by inquiring if he could oblige me with Captain Montgomery’s address. He
looked somewhat confused, and said, ‘Lord L., I am very desirous to have
an opportunity of explaining to you the business to which you allude.’
‘I have no right to make allusions, my Lord,’ I replied; ‘but’—and I
hesitated, ‘newspaper reports are not very satisfactory sources of
information; and, it is natural that I should be anxious respecting
my young friend. Indeed, at present, I do not know even where to find
him.’ ‘You have every right, Lord L.,’ he said, ‘to make inquiries,
and to have them answered; you are, not only, the friend of my father,
but you and your family have been, the kind, the generous friends, of
poor Montgomery, when he most wanted friends; to you every thing shall
be explained. At present I am not quite equal to the task; but permit
me to call on you to-morrow morning.’ I begged he would dine with me
to-day. He however declined, pleading an engagement which rendered that
impossible; but saying, ‘that he should be able to get away about ten,
(this evening I mean,) when, if I would permit him, he would wait on
me, and bring Montgomery with him.’ As he said this he smiled, though
certainly with no very gay expression; yet, his smiling at all, was quite
sufficient to show that there were no mortal wounds, in short, nothing
very fatal, or irremediable, in the business.
“It just occurred to me, that I would let them come, without saying
any thing of the ball. The surprise was a liberty, which I thought I
might take with the son of an old friend. Let me see,” added Lord L.,
considering, “it is now some eight or ten months since his father’s
death: yet I feared, from the evident depression on his spirits, that
he might not be prevailed on to join us, were he aware of the gay scene
which awaited him, before he was actually at the door; after which, I
should think, he would scarcely turn away.
“It was very plain, that he wished, as much as possible, to avoid all
mention of Montgomery; and I did not urge my inquiries, as he means to
bring him with him this evening, declaredly for the purpose of some
explanation. Indeed, it is clear to me, as I have all along said, that
the young men have had some silly quarrel, in which, I can now perceive,
Fitz-Ullin believes himself to have been the aggressor. There was a
consciousness, a hesitation in his manner: I fancy he means to be vastly
heroic this evening, confess himself in fault, and make Montgomery an
apology in my presence. But, as I before remarked, there can be nothing
very terrible in the affair; for when I asked him how Montgomery was, he
answered, ‘Quite well, thank you;’ and smiled again, though languidly.
‘He was not wounded then,’ I ventured to add. ‘Oh, no!’ he replied with
quickness. ‘Nor your Lordship, I hope?’ I continued. ‘Why—no,’—he said,
after a moment of hesitation. ‘And when you know all,’ he added, ‘you
will not suspect me of wishing to injure your friend Montgomery.’
“I saw I was distressing him, so I took my departure, declaring that I
entertained no such suspicions.
“Well,” added Lord L., after a momentary pause and a smile, “I trust,
from the sadness of the love-stricken youth, that Montgomery has been
successful with the fair source of their rivalship; for I have other
views for Fitz-Ullin.
“By the bye, I saw three ladies there as I passed a drawing-room,
the door of which was half open. Two of them seemed to be in widows’
mourning; and the third, who appeared much younger, wore something black
too, I think: but she was so beautiful, that during my momentary glance,
I had no leisure to examine her dress. She was standing near the door,
and seemed earnestly questioning a person who looked something like a
physician. I heard him say, as he was making his exit, ‘You may rest
quite satisfied; every dangerous symptom has now disappeared.’ This was
as I went in, and before I had seen Fitz-Ullin; so that I expected, of
course, to find him in an easy chair and wrapping gown, just recovering
from a dangerous wound.”
Then it is Edmund, thought Julia, who is only recovering; and who,
perhaps, may not recover after all!
“If that charming creature,” continued Lord L., “was Fitz-Ullin’s fair
inamorata, and that he has been rivalled in her good graces, I am not
much surprised at his despairing looks: and, certainly, he has not the
elastic step, or triumphant eye, of a successful lover. We must contrive
to console him, poor fellow.
“In the first place, Julia, I intend that he shall, should he arrive in
time, open the ball with you to-night; after which, should he, on longer
acquaintance, prove what the son of my immortal friend ought to be, I
shall have no objection to his securing your hand for a longer period.
Do not look so seriously alarmed, child! I certainly shall not offer
it to him. The hand of Lady Julia L. is a prize which may, I think, be
sought even by the sole representative of all the honours, hereditary and
acquired, of the great Fitz-Ullin! Talking of such things, what did you
do to the Marquis of H., to cure him so quickly, and so effectually?”
“Nothing,” replied Julia.
“Yes, you refused him; and that without consulting me.”
“Had I had the least wish to accept him, sir, I should have consulted
you,” said Julia, “but—I did not know—that it was of any consequence—if—”
“Well, take care you don’t refuse Fitz-Ullin without consulting me,”
said her father. “I have taken quite a fancy to the young man. There is
sweetness of disposition, and nobleness of nature, in every expression of
his countenance. And, as the son of his father, I should prefer him to
the Marquis, brilliant as that connexion would certainly have been. You
too, Frances,” he said, turning to her, and putting aside some of the
redundant curls that floated on her snowy forehead, “have, I understand,
been casting loose the chains of your captives also, without consulting
me. We must have a reform in this department of administration; I
consider myself entitled to some (perhaps my daughters may think)
obsolete privileges in the way of patronage, which, however, I do not
mean entirely to waive.—There now, fly and dress yourselves, or you will
be late.”
Both the girls having risen from their seats at the word “fly,”
hesitated, and approached their father, as if they had wished to say,
that they were not quite so undutiful as he imagined. Lord L. seemed
to comprehend the manner; for he put an arm round each, and kissed the
forehead of each.