A VERY SHORT CHAPTER,--CONTAINING A VALET.
MY uncle for several weeks had flattered himself that I had quite
forgotten or foregone the desire of leaving Devereux Court for London.
Good easy man! he was not a little distressed when I renewed the subject
with redoubled firmness, and demanded an early period for that event.
He managed, however, still to protract the evil day. At one time it was
impossible to part with me, because the house was so full; at another
time it was cruel to leave him, when the house was so empty. Meanwhile,
a new change came over me. As the first shock of Isora’s departure
passed away, I began to suspect the purity of her feelings towards
me. Might not Gerald--the beautiful, the stately, the glittering
Gerald--have been a successful wooer under the disguised name of
Barnard, and _hence_ Isora’s confusion when that name was mentioned, and
hence the power which its possessor exercised over her?
This idea, once admitted, soon gained ground. It is true that Isora had
testified something of favourable feelings towards me; but this might
spring from coquetry or compassion. My love had been a boy’s love,
founded upon beauty and coloured by romance. I had not investigated
the character of the object; and I had judged of the mind solely by the
face. I might easily have been deceived: I persuaded myself that I was.
Perhaps Gerald had provided their present retreat for sire and daughter;
perhaps they at this moment laughed over my rivalry and my folly.
Methought Gerald’s lip wore a contemptuous curve when we met. “It shall
have no cause,” I said, stung to the soul; “I will indeed forget this
woman, and yet, though in other ways, eclipse this rival. Pleasure,
ambition, the brilliancy of a court, the resources of wealth, invite me
to a thousand joys. I will not be deaf to the call. Meanwhile I will not
betray to Gerald, to any one, the scar of the wound I have received; and
I will mortify Gerald, by showing him that, handsome as he is, he shall
be forgotten in my presence!”
Agreeably to this exquisite resolution, I paid incessant court to the
numerous dames by whom my uncle’s mansion was thronged; and I resolved
to prepare, among them, the reputation for gallantry and for wit which I
proposed to establish in town.
“You are greatly altered since your love,” said Aubrey, one day to me,
“but not by your love. Own that I did right in dissuading you from its
indulgence!”
“Tell me!” said I, sinking my voice to a whisper, “do you think Gerald
was my rival?” and I recounted the causes of my suspicion.
Aubrey’s countenance testified astonishment as he listened. “It is
strange, very strange,” said he; “and the evidence of the boat is
almost conclusive; still I do not think it quite sufficient to leave no
loop-hole of doubt. But what matters it? you have conquered your love
now.”
“Ay,” I said, with a laugh, “I have conquered it, and I am now about
to find some other empress of the heart. What think you of the Lady
Hasselton?--a fair dame and a sprightly. I want nothing but her love to
be the most enviable of men, and a French _valet-de-chambre_ to be the
most irresistible.”
“The former is easier to obtain than the latter, I fear,” returned
Aubrey; “all places produce light dames, but the war makes a scarcity of
French valets.”
“True,” said I, “but I never thought of instituting a comparison between
their relative value. The Lady Hasselton, no disparagement to her
merits, is but one woman; but a French valet who knows his _metier_ arms
one for conquest over a thousand;” and I turned to the saloon.
Fate, which had destined to me the valuable affections of the Lady
Hasselton, granted me also, at a yet earlier period, the greater boon
of a French valet. About two or three weeks after this sapient
communication with Aubrey, the most charming person in the world
presented himself a candidate _pour le supreme bonheur de soigner
Monsieur le Comte_. Intelligence beamed in his eye; a modest assurance
reigned upon his brow; respect made his step vigilant as a zephyr’s; and
his ruffles were the envy of the world!
I took him at a glance; and I presented to the admiring inmates of the
house a greater coxcomb than the Count Devereux in the ethereal person
of Jean Desmarais.