I am only too painfully aware, my dear friend, that in my history of
a "Woman's Love," I have related none but very common occurrences
and situations, and entered into minute, nay, perhaps, uninteresting
details. Still, however common an event may be, it is susceptible of
variety in description, because endlessly various is the manner in which
the same event affects different persons. Perhaps no occurrence ever
affected two human beings exactly in the same manner; but as the rays
of light call forth different hues and gradations of colour, according
to the peculiar surfaces of the objects on which they fall, so common
circumstances vary in their results and their effects, according to the
different natures and minds of those to whom they occur.
My trials have been, and will no doubt continue to be, the trials of
thousands of my sex; but the manner in which I acted under them, and
their effect on my feelings and my character, must be peculiar to
myself. And on these alone I can presume to found my expectation of
affording to you, while you read, the variety which keeps attention
alive, and the interest which repays it.
In the same week which made me a bride Ferdinand De Walden left England,
unable to remain near the spot which had witnessed the birth of his
dearest hopes, and would now witness the destruction of them.
I could have soothed in a degree the "pangs of despised love," by
assuring him that I was convinced nothing but a prior attachment could
have prevented my heart from returning his love. I could have told
him that I seemed to myself to have two hearts; the one glowing with
passionate tenderness for the object of its first feelings, the other
conscious of a deep-rooted and well-founded esteem for him. But it was
my duty to conceal this truth from him, as such an avowal would have
strengthened my hold on his remembrance, and it was now become his duty
to forget.
My mother not very long after my marriage wounded my feelings in a
manner which I could not soon recover. I was speaking of De Walden with
that warmth of regard which I really felt for him, and lamenting that
I should probably now see him no more, when, with a look of agony for
which I was not prepared, she begged me never to mention the name
of De Walden to her again; for that her only chance of being able to
reconcile herself to the marriage which I had made, was her learning
to forget the one which she had so ardently desired.
Eagerly indeed did I pledge my word to her, that I would in future never
name De Walden.
The first twelve months of my wedded life were halcyon days; and the
first months of marriage are not often such,--perhaps they never are,
except where the wedded couple are so young that they are not trammelled
in habits which are likely to interfere with a spirit of accommodation;
nor even then, probably, unless the temper is good and yielding on both
sides. It usually takes some time for the husband and wife to know each
other's humours and habits, and to find out what surrender of their own
they can make with the least reluctance for their mutual good. But we
had youth, and (I speak it not as a boast) we had good temper also.
Seymour, you know, was proverbially good-natured; and I, though an only
child, had not had my naturally happy temper ruined by injudicious
indulgence.
You know that Seymour and I went to Paris, and thence to Marseilles, not
very long after we were married, and returned in six months, to complete
the alterations which we had ordered to be made to our house, under the
superintendence of my mother.
We found our alterations really deserving the name of improvements, and
Seymour enthusiastically exclaimed, "O Helen! never, never will we leave
this enchanting place. Here let us live, my beloved, and be the world to
each other!"
My heart readily assented to this delightful proposition, but even then
my judgement revolted at it.
I felt, I knew that Pendarves loved and was formed for society. I was
sure that by beginning our wedded life with total seclusion, we should
only prepare the way for utter distaste to it; and concealing my own
inclinations, I told him I must stipulate for three months of London
every spring. My husband started with surprise and mortification at
this un-romantic reply to his sentimental proposal, nor could he at all
accede to it; but he complained of my passion for London to my mother,
while the country with me for his companion was quite sufficient for his
happiness.
"These are early times yet," replied my mother coldly; and Seymour was
not satisfied with the mother or the daughter.
"Seymour," said I one day, "since you have declared against keeping
any more terms, and will therefore not read much law till you become a
justice of the peace, pray, tell me how you mean to employ yourself?"
"Why, in the first place," said he, "I shall read or write. But my first
employment shall be to teach you Spanish. I cannot endure to think that
De Walden taught you Italian, Helen."
"But you taught me to love, you know, therefore you ought to forgive
it."
"No, I cannot rest till I also have helped to complete your education."
"Well, but I cannot be learning Spanish all day."
"No; so perhaps I shall set about writing a great work."
"The very thing that I was going to propose, though not exactly a great
work. What think you of a life of poor Chatterton, with critical remarks
on his poems?"
"Excellent! I will do it."
And now having given him a pursuit, I ventured to indulge some
reasonable hopes that home and the country might prove to him as
delightful as he fancied that they would be; and what with studying
Spanish, with building a green-house, with occasional writing, with
study, with getting together materials for this life, and writing
the preface, time fled on very rapid pinions; and after we had been
married two years, and May arrived a second time, Seymour triumphantly
exclaimed, "There, Helen! I believe that you distrusted my love for the
country; but have I once expressed or felt a wish to go to London?"
"The ides of March are come, but not gone," I replied; "and surely if I
wish to go, you will not deny me."
"No, Helen, certainly not," said he in a tone of mortification; "if I am
no longer all-sufficient for your happiness."
Alas! in the ingenuousness of my nature, I gave way when he said this to
the tenderness of my heart, and assured him that my happiness depended
wholly on the enjoyment of his society; and I fear it is too true that
men soon learn to slight what they are sure of possessing. Had I been an
artful woman, and could I have condescended to make him doubtful of the
extent of my love, by a few woman's subterfuges; could I have feigned a
desire to return to the world, instead of owning, as I did, that all my
enjoyment was comprised in home and him; I do think that I might have
been for a much longer period the happiest of wives; but then I should
have been, in my own eyes, despicable as a woman, and I was always
tenacious of my own esteem.
May was come, but not gone--when I found my husband was continually
reading to me, after having previously read to himself, the accounts in
the papers of the gaieties of London.
"What a tempting account this is, Helen, of the Exhibition at Somerset
House!--I should like to see it. Seeing pictures is an elegant rational
amusement. And here are soon to be a ball and supper at Ranelagh. A fine
place Ranelagh for such an entertainment."
Here he read a list of routs and cotillion balls at different places;
but one day he read, with infinite mortification, that our uncle, Mr.
Pendarves, had given a ball on the return of his son-in-law to
Parliament.
"How abominable," cried Seymour, "for my uncle to give a ball, and not
invite us to go up to it!"
"You forget," replied I, "that, knowing our passion for the country, and
that we had abjured the world, he did not like to ask us, because he
knew he should be refused."
"I am not so sure he would have been refused, Helen; or, as to having
abjured the world--No, no; we are not such fools as to do that--are we,
my dearest girl?"
"We are bound by no vows, certainly; and, as soon as retirement is
become irksome to you, we can go to London."
"Did I say that retirement was grown irksome? Oh, fie! such an idea
never entered my thoughts: besides, as this fine ball is over, what
should we go to London for?"
"There may be other fine balls, and fine parties, you know."
"True; but really, Helen, I begin to believe you wish to go to London."
"If you do, I do certainly."
"I!--Not I indeed. Ah, Helen! I suspect you are not ingenuous with me;
and you do wish to go."
I only smiled: but I soon found that the book did not get forward, that
the newspapers were anxiously expected, and that my Spanish master
sometimes forgot his task in the indulgence of reverie; and I debated
within myself, whether it would not be for our interest and our domestic
comfort, to propose to go to London, in order to conceal from him as
long as I could that I was not sufficient for his happiness; and that he
would live and die a man of the world. I was the more ready to do this,
because I wished that my mother should not see my empire was on the
decline. Why did I so wish? I hoped it was because I was desirous to
spare her any anxiety for my peace; but I fear it also was because I did
not like that she should have cause to suspect her choice for me was
likely to have proved a better one than my own. (I believe I have
observed before, how strong my conviction is, that there is scarcely
such a thing in nature as a single motive of action.)
I therefore, in the presence of my mother, hinted a wish to go to London
for six weeks. She started, and looked suspiciously at Pendarves; while
he, with an odd mixture of surprise, joy, and mortification in his
countenance, exclaimed--
"Do I hear right, Helen? Are you, after all you have declared, desirous
of going to London?"
"I am: 'Variety is charming,' says the proverb; and here you know it is
_toujours perdrix_!"
"Well, there, madam," said Pendarves, turning to my mother, "you will
now, I hope, believe what I assured you of some time ago, that Helen
had a passion for London?"
"_C'est selon_," replied my mother, "to use a French phrase, in answer
to Helen's," and darting, as she spoke, a penetrating glance at me.
"I assure you," replied I, "that my wish to go to London originates with
myself, as I believe that this journey to the metropolis is the wisest,
as well as the most agreeable thing I could desire."
My mother sighed; and a "Well, my child, I have no reason to doubt your
word," broke languidly from her lips, while she suddenly rose and left
the room.
"And are you really in earnest, Helen?" said Pendarves.
"Never more so; and unless my proposal is very distasteful to you, I
beg you will write directly, and engage lodgings."
"Distasteful! oh, no! quite the contrary. I shall be proud to exhibit my
lovely wife in London, where, no doubt, she will be as much admired as
she was abroad.--Do you think," he affectionately added, "that I have
forgotten the exquisite pleasure I experienced at seeing you the object
of general attraction wherever you moved?"
This was said and felt kindly; still it did not inspire me with that
confidence which it seemed likely to inspire; for I, though I was
conscious of my husband's personal beauty, had no vanity to gratify in
exhibiting him to the London world. I had no wish to be the most envied
of women, it was sufficient for me to know that I was the happiest; and
I thought that, if Pendarves loved as truly as I did, the consciousness
of his happiness would have been sufficient for him. Still, I am well
aware how wrong it is to judge the love of others according to our own
capability of loving. As well, and as justly, might we confine beauty,
or the power of pleasing, to one cast of features or complexion. All
persons love after a manner of their own; and woe must befal the man or
woman who expects to be loved according to their own way and their own
degree of loving, without any consideration for the different character
and different feelings of the beloved object.
"How absurd I am!" said I to myself, after I had shed some weak tears
in the solitude of my chamber, because Pendarves did not love me, I
found, as I loved him. "How absurd! True, he delights in the idea of
exhibiting me, and I have no wish to exhibit him. After all, he loves
more generously than I do, and my selfishness is nothing to be proud
of."
Thus I reasoned with myself, and tried to fortify my mind to bear the
cares and the dangers which I had, on principle, provoked.
"One word, Helen," said my mother, when she was alone with me after
what had passed relative to my projected journey: "Are you sure, my
dear child, that in urging your husband to go to London you have acted
wisely?"
"As sure as the consciousness of my bounded vision of futurity can allow
me to be. I thought it better to forestal my husband's wishes than to
wait for the expression of them."
"If not better, it was less mortifying," replied my quick-sighted
parent; and we said no more on the subject.
In three days' time we had lodgings procured for us near Hanover Square;
and on the fourth day from that on which I made known my wishes, we set
off for London. But how different were the feelings of my husband and
myself on the occasion! He was all joy and pleased expectation, unmixed
with any painful regret or any anxious fears. But I left, for some
time, a tenderly beloved mother, and the scene of tranquil and certain
enjoyment. I was going, I knew, to encounter, probably, the influence
of rivals, both in men and women, in my husband's attentions, and the
dangerous power of long and early associations. And how did I know but
that into a renewal of intimacy with his former associates I was not
bringing my husband? But I had done what I thought right; and if I had
presumptuously acted on the dictates of human wisdom alone, I prayed,
fervently prayed, that the divine wisdom would take pity on my weakness,
and avert the courted and impending evil.
I was many miles on my journey before I could drive from my mind the
recollection of my mother's countenance when we parted. It did not alone
express sorrow to part with me: it indicated anxiety, foreboding of
evil to happen before we met again; and it required all my husband's
enlivening gaiety and fascinating powers to revive my drooping spirits.
His gaiety, I must own, however, depressed rather than enlivened me at
first; for I was mortified to see with what delight he anticipated our
return to the great world: but, as I had no ill-tempered feelings to
oppose to the influence of his buoyant hilarity and his winning charm of
manner, they at length subdued my depression, and imparted to me their
own pleasant cheerfulness.
"Dear, dear London!" cried Pendarves as our horses' hoofs first rattled
on its pavement, "Dear London! how I love thee! for here I was first
convinced how fondly Helen loved me!" So saying, he pressed me to his
heart, and a feeling of revived confidence stole over mine.
We found my uncle and Mrs. Pendarves still in London; but I did not feel
as rejoiced on the occasion as they and my husband did. The latter was
glad because he had in them proper protectors for his wife, whenever
he was obliged to leave me; and the former, because they had really
an affection for us. But I knew so much of Mrs. Pendarves, by the
description I had heard of her from Lady Helen and my mother, and what I
had observed myself, that I dreaded being exposed to her home truths and
her indiscreet communications.
It was not long before we found ourselves completely in the vortex of a
London life. And as, for the most part, my husband's engagements and
mine were the same, I lost the gloomy forebodings with which I left
home, and even lost my fears of Mrs. Pendarves.
One day Pendarves told me he was going to dine with an old friend of
his, Maurice Witred; but, as I was not going out, he hoped to be back to
drink tea with me; but I expected him in vain, and he did not return
till bed-time.
He told me he was sorry to have disappointed me; but his friend had
prevailed on him to go to the play. This excuse was so sufficient, and
his wish to accompany Mr. Witred so natural, that I should have had no
misgiving whatever had I not observed a certain degree of constraint in
his manner, and a consciousness as if he had not told me all. However,
I was satisfied with the alleged cause of his absence, and I slept as
soundly as usual. But the next morning came Mrs. Pendarves, saying she
was glad to find me alone. She told me she had met my husband, and she
had given him such a set to! (to use her own elegant phrase.)
"And wherefore?"
"Oh! for going to the play with Maurice Witred and his lady."
"Lady! I did not know he was married."
"He is not married; and it was very wrong, and had an ill-appearance for
a young, married man to be seen in public, though it was in a private
box, with a profligate man and his mistress. I thought he would not tell
you; but I was resolved you should know it, that you might scold him
with 'the grave rebuke of a severe youthful beauty and a grace.'"
I did not reply, even to assure her I was better pleased that she
should scold my husband than that I should do it myself; for I knew
she was incorrigible, and her communication had thrown me into a
painful reverie; for I found that Pendarves had begun to practise
disingenuousness and concealment with me, and in the most dangerous
way; for he had concealed only half the truth; by which means persons
make a sort of compromise with their integrity, and lay a salvo to
their consciences; for they fancy they are not lying, though they are
certainly deceiving; whereas, if they tell a downright lie, they, at
least, KNOW they are sinning, and may be led by conscious shame into
amendment. But there is no hope for those who thus delude themselves;
and as _ce n'est que le premier pas qui coute_, I felt that I had lost
some of my confidence in my husband's sincerity. Alas! when perfect
confidence between man and wife is once destroyed, there is an end to
perfect happiness! But I tried to shake off my abstraction; and I
listened as well as I could to my talkative companion, whose passion
was to give advice, that troublesome but common propensity in weak
people; and like such persons, she was always boasting of the advice she
had given, that which she would give, or of the dressings and _set-tos_
which she had bestowed, or meant to bestow. At length, however, much to
my relief she went away, and not long after Pendarves returned.
"So," said he, "I find Mrs. Pendarves has been with you, and suppose
(blushing as he spoke) that she has been telling tales of me?"
"And of herself," I replied, smiling as unconcernedly as I could; "for
she owns to the presumption of having given you a _set-to_, as she calls
it."
"Yes: but I suppose she told you the cause?"
"No doubt."
"And do you think it deserved so severe a lecture?"
"I think it was not right in a respectable married man to seem to give
his countenance to such a connexion as the one in question; and I
suspect that you are of the same opinion."
"I am; but why do you think so?"
"From conceit; because I believe that fear of my censure made you
conceal from me what you had done."
"True, most true--and my repugnance to tell you all proved to me still
more how wrong that all was."
"My dearest Seymour," I replied, "believe me, that not all which you can
communicate to me can ever distress me so much as my consciousness of
your want of ingenuousness, and of your telling only half the truth can
do. I saw by your manner something was wrong, and I shall ever bless the
weak indiscretion of Mrs. Pendarves, because it led to this salutary
explanation; and I trust that the next time you go with Mr. Witred and
his lady to the play, you will mention both."
"But I shall _never_ go with them again," eagerly replied my husband,
"as you, Helen think it improper."
"But I may be too rigid in my ideas; and I beg you to be ruled by your
own judgment, rather than mine. All I ask is, to be told the whole
truth."
Pleasant to my feelings then, and dear to my recollection since, is the
look of tenderness and approbation which Pendarves gave me as I spoke
these words; and when he left me, peace and confidence seemed restored
to my mind.
The next evening was the fashionable night for Ranelagh, and my husband
and I, who dined out, were to accompany a large party to that scene of
gay resort.
Ranelagh was the place for tall women to appear to advantage in. Little
women, however beautiful, were likely to be unnoticed in that circling
crowd; but, even unattended with beauty, height and a good carriage of
the person were sure to be noticed there. The pride which Pendarves took
in my appearance was never so fully gratified as at Ranelagh; for while
I leaned upon him, I used to feel my arm pressed gently to his side as
he heard or saw the admiration which my lofty stature (to speak modestly)
excited. This evening as I was quite a new face in the splendid round,
I was even followed as well as gazed at; and I was not sorry when our
carriage was announced, though I was flattered on my own account,
and pleased on my husband's; for I was eager to escape from some
particularly impertinent starers, especially as I found that Pendarves
was disposed to resent the freedom with which some men of high rank
thought themselves privileged to follow and to look at me. Before we
separated, some of the party proposed that we should meet again at
Ranelagh on the next night but one, and while I hesitated, my husband
exclaimed, "No mock modesty, Helen; no declining an opportunity, which
you must enjoy, of being admired. So, pray tell our friends you gladly
accede to their proposal."
"I gladly accede to your proposal," cried I laughing, but blushing with
conscious vanity at the same time.
"What an obedient wife!" cried one of the ladies; "public homage has not
spoiled her yet, I see."
"Nor can it," replied I, "while I possess my husband's homage, which I
value far more."
"While you possess it! Then, if his homage should fail you, you might
perhaps be pleased with the other?"
"I humbly hope not: but if exposed to that bitter trial, I dare not
assert that I should not yield to it as scores of other women do
every day; for I must say, in defence of my sex, that good husbands,
generally speaking, make good wives; and that most women originally
value the attentions of their husbands more than those of other men. On
your sex, therefore, O false and fickle man! be visited the crimes of
ours!"
This grave discourse provoked some laughter from my audience, from which
I was glad to escape to our carriage, which had waited for us while we
alighted.
"So, Helen," said my husband as we went home, "it is your opinion,
That when weak women go astray,
Their lords are more in fault than they."
"It is."
"And you said what you did as a gentle hint and a kind warning to me how
I behaved myself?"
"Not so," said I eagerly: "I humbly trust that even your example would
not make me swerve from my duty; and my observation was a general one.
Still, my favourite and constant prayer is 'Let me not be led into
temptation;' and believe me, Pendarves, that she who is able to admit
that she may possibly err, is less liable to do so than the woman who
seems to believe she is incapable of it."
"Helen," said my husband, "I never for one moment associated together
the idea of you and frailty: therefore, dear girl, I will carry you to
Ranelagh again and again; for I do love to see you admired! and I feel
proud while I think and know that even princes would woo your smiles in
vain."
He kept his word, and we never missed a full night at Ranelagh. But one
evening completely destroyed the unmixed pleasure which I had hitherto
enjoyed there.
We had not been round the room more than twice when we were joined by
Lord Charles Belmour, a former associate of my husband's, who, after a
little while, begged to have some private conversation with him; and
taking his arm, Pendarves consigned me to the care of the gentleman with
us, on whose other arm hung a lady to whom he was busily making love:
consequently, his attention was wholly directed to her, and I had
nothing to divert mine from the conversation which occasionally met my
ear between my husband and his noble friend, who walked close behind us.
Sometimes this conversation was held in a low voice, and then I ceased
to listen to it; but when they spoke as usual, I thought I was justified
in attending to them.
"Look there!" said Lord Charles, as we were passing a box in which sat
two ladies splendidly dressed, accompanied by two gentlemen, "look,
Pendarves, there is an old friend of yours!"
"Ha!" said my husband, lowering his voice, "I protest it is she! I did
not know she was in England. Who are those men with her?"
"What, are you jealous?"
"Nonsense! Who are they?"
"The man in brown is husband to the lady in blue; and for the sake of
associating with a titled lady, which your friend is, you know, he
allows his wife, who is not pretty enough to be in danger, to go about
with her and her _cher ami_--the young man in green. You know she was
always a favourite with young men."
"True, and young indeed must the man be who is taken in by her
fascinations."
"But she is wonderfully handsome still."
"I hardly looked at her."
"We are passing her again--_Now_, then, look at her if you dare."
"Dare!"
"Yes: for her eyes are very like the basilisk's."
"I will risk it."
_I_ too now looked towards the box we were approaching; at the end of
which stood a young man in green, hanging over a woman, who though no
longer young, and wholly indebted to art for her bloom, appeared to my
now jealous eyes the handsomest woman I had ever beheld. I also observed
that she saw and recognised my husband; for she suddenly started, and
looked disordered, while an expression of anger stole over her face. A
sudden stop in the crowd, to allow the PRINCE and his party to pass, who
were just entering, forced us to be stationary a few minutes before her
box. Oh! how my heart beat during this survey! But one thing gratified
me: I was sure as I did not see her bow her head or curtsy, that
Pendarves did not notice her. And yet, Lord Charles had, uncontradicted,
called her his old friend!
Who, then, and what was she? would he tell me? Perhaps he would when he
got home; if he did not, I felt that I should be uneasy.
We soon moved on again, and I heard Lord Charles say,
"Cruel Pendarves, not even to look at or touch your hat to her! Surely
that would not have committed you in any way."
"It would have been acknowledging her for an acquaintance, which I do
not now wish to do, especially in my wife's presence," I conclude he
said, for he spoke too low for me to hear; but I judge so from the
answer of Lord Charles.
"Oh! then, if your wife was not present, you would not be so cruel?"
"I did not say so."
"No: but you implied it."
"I deny that also."
Then coming up to me, my husband again offered me his arm, and Lord
Charles left us. I soon after saw this beautiful woman walking in
the circle, and heard her named by the gentleman next me as Lady
Bell Singleton--a dashing widow more famed for her beauty and her
fascinations than her morals. But Pendarves said nothing; and though she
looked very earnestly at him, and examined me from head to foot as I
passed, I saw that he never turned his eyes on her, and seemed resolved
not to see her.
I had therefore every reason to be pleased with my husband's conduct;
but I felt great distrust of Lord Charles. I thought he was a man,
from what I had overheard, whom I could never like as a companion for
Pendarves; and I disliked him the more, because, if I had given him
the slightest encouragement, he would have been my devoted and public
admirer, and would have delighted to make his attachment to me and our
intimacy the theme of conversation. I also saw that my cold reserve had
changed his partiality into dislike; and I could readily believe that he
would be glad in revenge to wean my husband from me. Still I could not
wish that I had treated him otherwise than I did; for I could not have
done it without compromising my sense of right, as half measures in such
cases are of no avail; and if a married woman does not at once show that
pointed and particular admiration is offensive to her, the man who
offers it has a right to think his devoirs may in time be acceptable.
Here I may as well give you the character of this friend of my
husband's.
Lord Charles Belmour was the son of the Duke of ----; and never was any
man more proud of the pre-eminence bestowed by rank and birth: but to
do him justice, he began life with a wish to possess more honourable
distinctions; and had he been placed in better circumstances, the world
might have heard of him as a man of science, of learning, and of talents.
But he had every thing to deaden his wish of studious fame, and nothing
to encourage it. Besides, he was too indolent to toil for that renown
which he was ambitious to enjoy; and instead of reading hard at college,
he was soon led away into the most unbounded dissipation, while he saw
honours daily bestowed on others which he had once earnestly wished to
deserve and gain himself. But he quickly drove all weak repinings from
him, proudly resolving in future to scorn and undervalue those laurels
which could now never be his.
He therefore chose to declare it was beneath a nobleman, or even a
gentleman, to gain a prize, or take a high degree; and this assertion,
in which he did not himself believe, was quoted by many an idle dunce,
glad so to excuse the ignorance which disgraced him.
But, spite of this pernicious opinion, Lord Charles never sought the
society of those who acted upon it; and Pendarves, who had distinguished
himself at Oxford, was his favourite companion there.
When Lord Charles entered the world, he gave himself up to all its
vanities and irregularities. But he was conscious of great powers, and
also conscious that he had suffered them to run waste. Still if he could
not employ them in a way to excite admiration, he knew he could do so in
a way to excite fear; and after all, power was power, and to possess it
was the first wish of his heart.
Accordingly, though conscious he had himself the follies which he
lashed, he had no mercy on those of his acquaintance; for, as he himself
observed, "it is easier to laugh at the follies of others than amend
one's own;" and though courted as an amusing companion, he was often
shunned as a dangerous one.
Women, also, who defied him either as a suitor or an enemy, have rued
the day when they ventured to dispute his power: but, as I at length
discovered, there was one way to disarm him; and that was to own his
ability to do harm, and try to conciliate him as an active and
efficient friend.
In that case his generous and kind feelings conquered his less amiable
ones, and his friendship was as sincere and valuable as his enmity was
pernicious.
But, with no uncommon inconsistency, while he declared that he thought
a nobleman would disgrace himself if he sung well, or sung at all, or
entered the lists in any way with persons _a talens_, he condescended
to indulge before those whom he respected in the lowest of all talents,
though certainly one of the most amusing, that of mimickry--a gift which
usually appertains to other talents, as a border of shining gold to the
fag end of a piece of India muslin, looking more showy indeed than the
material to which it adheres; but how inferior in value and in price!
But to resume my narrative. My husband did _not_ mention Lady Bell to
me. The next time I went to Ranelagh with mixed feelings--for I dreaded
to see this lady again, and to observe that Pendarves had chosen at
length to own her for an acquaintance; for, had he been sure of never
renewing his acquaintance, why should he not have named her to me?
It was also with contending feelings that I found myself obliged to have
Mrs. Pendarves as my companion; for though I wished to be informed on
the subject of my anxiety, I dreaded it at the same time: and I was sure
that she would tell me all she knew.
A nephew of Mrs. Pendarves was our escort to Ranelagh; and my husband,
who dined with Lord Charles Belmour (much to my secret sorrow), was to
join us there.
My eyes looked every where in search of Lady Bell Singleton, and at
length I discovered her. My companion did the same; and with a sort
of scream of surprise, she said, "Oh, dear! if there is not Lady Bell
Singleton! I thought she was abroad. Do you know, my dear, when she
returned to England?"
"How should I know, madam? The very existence of the lady was a stranger
to me till the other evening."
"Indeed! Why, do not you really know that is the lady on whose account
your mother forbade your marriage with Pendarves?"
"No, madam, my mother was too discreet to explain her reasons."
"Well, my dear, you need not look so uneasy--it was all off long before
he married you--though she is a very dangerous woman where she gets a
hold, and looks
'So sure of her beholder's heart,
Neglecting for to take them.'"
I scarcely heard what she said, for a sick faint feeling came over me at
the consciousness that I was now in the presence of a woman for whom
Pendarves had undoubtedly felt some sort of regard; but it was jealousy
for the past, not of the present, that overcame me, though my husband's
total silence with regard to this lady was, I could not but think, an
alarming circumstance. And "it was on her account your mother forbade
your marriage with Pendarves" still vibrated painfully in my ears, when
Lord Charles and he appeared. With a smile by no means as unconstrained
as usual I met him, and accepted his proffered arm. Lord Charles walked
with us for a round or two--then left us, whispering as he did so,
"Remember! _do_ notice her, she expects it, and I think she has a right
to it."
Pendarves muttered, "Well, if it must be so," and his companion
disappeared.
"Soon after we saw him with Lady Bell Singleton leaning on his arm; and
I felt convinced he had made the acquaintance since we were last at
Ranelagh, as he never noticed her till that night. We were now meeting
them for the second time, and passing close to them, when I saw Lady
Bell pointedly try to catch my husband's eye: and no longer avoiding it,
he took off his hat, and civilly, though distantly, returned the cordial
but silent salutation which she gave him.
"This," thought I, "is in consequence of Lord Charles's interference,
and explains what Pendarves meant by 'Well, if I must, I must.'"
How I wished that he would break his silence on this subject, and be
ingenuous! But I felt it was a delicate subject for him to treat--and I
resolved to break the ice myself.
"That was a very beautiful woman to whom you bowed just now," said I,
glad to find that Mrs. Pendarves was looking another way.
"She _has_ been beautiful indeed!" was his reply.
Then looking at me, surprised I doubt not at the tremor of my voice, he
was equally surprised at my excessive paleness, and with some little
sarcasm in his tone, he said,
"My dear Helen, is my only bowing to a fine woman capable of making your
cheek pale, and your voice trembling?"
"No," said I, "not so--you wrong me indeed; nor did I know that my cheek
was pale." I said no more, shrinking from the seeming indelicacy of
forcing a confidence which he was disposed to withhold.
"Helen," said he, looking up in my face, "I see our aunt Pendarves has
been at her old work, telling tales of me. I protest I shall insist on
my uncle's sending her muzzled into your company."
"The best way of muzzling her would be to anticipate all her
communications yourself. It would be such an effectual silence to a
woman like our little aunt, to be able to say, 'I know that already!'"
"That's artfully put, Helen! But, really, there are some things which I
have respected you too much to name to you. A general knowledge of my
past faults and follies you have long had; but, from no unworthy motive,
I have shrunk from talking to you of any particular one: and I feel
pained and shocked, my beloved wife, to know that you are aware of that
lady's having once been very near, if not very dear, to me in the days
of my early youth."
"Enough," said I, "enough! Forget that I know any thing which you wished
me not to know, and assure yourself that I will forget also."
"You are a wise and good girl," he replied, kindly pressing the arm that
reposed in his: "but my little aunt is capable of making much mischief
between married persons, where the mind of the wife is weak, and her
temper suspicious."
But how irritated I was against Lord Charles that evening! He forced
conversation with Pendarves whenever we passed him, and gave Lady Bell
an opportunity of fixing her dark eyes on him in a manner which having
once seen, I took care never to see again. I am sure it offended him as
much as it did me; for though Lady Bell was not absolutely excluded from
society, she was by no means a woman to be forced on the notice of any
man who had a virtuous wife leaning on his arm; and in returning her
bow, Pendarves had done all that civility required of him: but I am
convinced that Lord Charles wished to give me pain; and he was also in
hopes that I should resent the appearance of any acquaintance remaining
between the quondam lovers, and thereby occasion a coolness between my
husband and myself.
This was the longest and the only painful evening I had ever passed at
Ranelagh; and from that moment I took such a dislike to it, that I was
very glad when the great heat of the weather made my usual companions at
such places substitute Vauxhall for Ranelagh. But at Vauxhall the same
lovely and unwelcome vision crossed my path; and I once overheard a
gentleman say, looking back at my husband, who had stopt to speak to
some ladies, "What a lucky fellow that Pendarves is! The two finest
women in the garden--aye, or in London, are his wife, and his quondam
mistress." The compliment to myself was deprived of its power to please
me, by these wounding words, my husband's "quondam mistress." And was
then that disgraceful connexion so well known? The thought was an
overwhelming one, and I began to resent my husband's having bowed to
this woman in my presence. But perhaps he was entreated to do so in
order to shield her reputation? If so, could he do otherwise? And as I
was always glad to find an excuse for Pendarves, I satisfied myself
thus, and my recent displeasure was forgotten.
When we had extended the six weeks we meant to pass in London to two
months, I expressed a wish of returning into the country; and Seymour
complied with so little reluctance, that I prepared to return home with
a much lighter heart than I had expected ever to feel again. But
Mrs. Pendarves had a parting gift for me in her own way--a piece of
intelligence which clouded over the unexpected brilliancy of my home
prospects.
"Well my dear niece," said she, "I am glad you are going, though I am
sorry to part with you; for I do not like Seymour's friend, Lord Charles
Belmour. He seems to me, my dear, to have, in the words of the poet,
'That low cunning which from fools supplies,
And aptly too, the means of being wise.'
"And I have thought no good of him ever since I saw him come out of Lady
Bell Singleton's house with your husband."
"What!" cried I, catching hold of a chair, for my strength seemed
suddenly to fail me, "does my husband visit Lady Bell?"
"Yes, that once I am sure he did: but then I do not doubt but that Lord
Charles took him there; for I am told his great pleasure is to alienate
his married friends from their wives."
Alas! from what a pinnacle of happiness and confidence did this foolish
woman cast me down in one moment! Reply I could not; and she went on to
give me one piece of advice, and that was, never, if I could help it, to
admit Lord Charles within my doors, and to discourage his intimacy with
my husband as much as I could.
By this time I had a little recovered this overwhelming blow; and I
resolved in self-defence, and in defence of my husband's character, to
tell her I must believe she was mistaken in thinking she saw Pendarves
come out of Lady Bell's house; but whether that were true or false, I
must request her to keep such communications to herself in future, as a
wife was the last person whom any one should presume to inform of the
errors of her husband. But company came in; and soon after my uncle
drove up to the house in his travelling carriage, and in a few minutes
more they were both on the road to Cornwall. If Seymour, when he came
in, had found me alone with Mrs. Pendarves, he would have attributed the
strange abstraction of my manner to some information which she had given
me; but he now imputed it to the head-ach of which I complained; and
when my visitors went he urged me to go and lie down.
This was unfortunate, as I should have disliked excessively to tell
him what his aunt had seen, and to let him observe how uneasy the
communication had made me; for I was aware that a wife whose jealousy is
so very apt to take alarm, is as troublesome to a husband as one whose
nerves are so weak that she goes into a fit at the slightest noise, and
starts at the mere shutting of a door. Still, my husband's ignorance of
the cause of my indisposition was a great trial to me; for it forced me
to have, for the first time, a secret from him. And he too, it seemed,
was keeping a secret from me; for, spite of my entreaties that he would
always tell me himself what it might grieve me to hear from others, he
had called on Lady Bell Singleton, without telling me that he had done
so!
Alas! I did indeed lie down, and I did indeed darken my room; but it
was to hide my agitation and my tears: nor till Pendarves went out to
dinner, which, with some difficulty I prevailed on him to do, did I
suffer the light to penetrate into my apartments, or my swollen eye-lids
to be seen of any one. But then I rose; then, too, I rallied my spirits;
for, in the first place I was cheered by my husband's affectionate
unwillingness to leave me, and in the next I had nearly convinced myself
that Mrs. Pendarves had not seen him when she fancied she did.
By this resolute endeavour to look only on the bright side, I was
enabled when my husband returned, which he did very early, to receive
him with unforced smiles and cheerfulness.
The next day we set off immediately after breakfast on our journey
home; and I met my mother with a countenance so happy, that the look of
anxious inquiry with which she beheld me was immediately exchanged for
one of tearful joy.
"Thank God! my dearest child," she fervently exclaimed, "that I see you
again, and see you thus!"
Why had she looked so anxious, and so inquiringly? and why was she thus
so evidently surprised, as well as rejoiced?
No doubt, thought I, she is in correspondence with our gossiping aunt,
and she has told my mother all she told me.--No doubt, also, she has all
along been that secret source whence was derived my mother's fear of
uniting me to Pendarves.--But then, was not her information derived from
her husband, and was it not always only too authentic?
As these thoughts passed my mind, it was well for me that my mother was
talking to Seymour, and did not observe me.
Two months had greatly embellished the appearance of our abode; and it
looked so green and gay, and was so fragrant from the summer flowers,
that Pendarves, always alive to present objects and present impressions,
exclaimed as we followed my mother through the grounds, "Dearest Helen!
why should we ever leave this paradise of sweets? Here let us live and
die!"
"Agreed," said I; and my mother looked at us with delighted eyes, but
eyes that beamed through tears.
Calm and tranquil were the months that followed--though my husband's
brow was always clouded when letters arrived bearing the London
post-mark; and when I asked who his correspondent was, he answered,
"Lord Charles;" but never communicated to me the contents of these
letters.
In walking, riding, receiving and paying visits, passed the time till
September, when my husband had an invitation to spend a few days in
Norfolk, on a shooting excursion; and when he returned he found me
confined to my sofa with indisposition. Never had woman a tenderer nurse
than he proved himself during the three succeeding months: at the end of
that time I was quite recovered; and as he had business in London, he
declared his intention of going thither for some days, as he could not
bear, he said, to leave me some few months later, and when a time was
approaching so dear to his wishes and expectations.
To London therefore he went, and left me to combat and indulge
alternately the fears of a jealous and the confidence of a tender wife.
His letters became a study to me. I tried to find out by his expressions
in what state of mind he wrote. Sometimes I fancied them hurried, and
expressive of a mind not at ease with itself; then in another passage I
read the unembarrassed eloquence of faithful and confiding love.
During his absence my mother found me a bad companion: I was for ever
falling into reverie, and a less penetrating eye than hers would have
discovered that my symptoms were those of mental uneasiness.
At length he returned, and he gazed on my faded cheek and evidently
anxious countenance with such tender concern, that my care-worn brow
instantly resumed its wonted cheerfulness; and when my mother came to
welcome him, she was surprised at the alteration in my looks.
"Foolish child!" said she in a faltering voice, when Pendarves left the
room, "Foolish child! to depend thus for happiness, nay health and life
itself perhaps, on one of frail and human mould! I see how it is with
you: you were ill and anxious yesterday, but he is come, and you need no
other physician."
"Did you see much of Lord Charles?" said I the next day, looking
earnestly for my needle while I spoke, as I was conscious that my
countenance was not tranquil.
"No--yes--on the whole I did. But why do you ask? I believe he is no
favourite of yours."
"Certainly not."
"But I hope, Helen, you are not so _very_ a wife as to wish me to give
up an old friend merely because he does not please you?"
"No: I am not so unreasonable, even though I could give substantial
reasons for my dislike."
"And pray what are these reasons? Oh! that reminds me of a joke Lord
Charles has against you, Helen. He tells me he is sure you thought that
he fell in love with you when, on being first presented to you, he
expressed his admiration in his usual frank way, which means nothing;
for he says your prudery took alarm, and you drew up your beautiful
neck to its utmost height, and have My lorded and Your lordship'd him
ever since into the most awful distance."
"True; but for a manner that means nothing, I never saw a manner more
offensive to a modest wife. However, I am very glad he has been so
clear-sighted as to my motives; for I wish him to know that I do not
love such marked homage from him, or any other friend of yours, even in
a joke."
"You are piqued, Helen."
"I am."
"Perhaps you wish me to call Lord Charles out? But indeed were I to call
out all the men who look at you with admiring eyes, I should soon sleep
with my fathers, or send numbers to sleep with theirs. No, no, excuse
me, Helen. I will not quarrel with Lord Charles; for even if the fire
ever was kindled, your snow has now completely extinguished it; and I do
assure you he is a very good fellow, though odd, and not always
pleasant."
"Is he paying his court to that Lady Bell?" said I, speaking her name
with difficulty, and preceding it with an impertinent, _that_.
"I really--I--cannot say positively. But that Lady Bell, as you
emphatically call her, has quarrelled with that fine young man whom you
saw at Ranelagh, and perhaps it is on his account."
I said no more; for I saw his colour heighten, and that his manner was
hurried: and I tried to believe that the quarrel was wholly on Lord
Charles Belmour's account.
I now however took myself seriously to task; for was I not violating a
wife's duty in trying to find errors in the conduct of my husband? and
was I not by so doing endangering my own peace of mind, my health, and
consequently, in my situation, my life? Was I not also depressing those
spirits, and weakening those powers of exertion which ought to make home
agreeable and alluring to the dear object of my weak solicitude?
The result of this severe self-examination was, that I resolutely
determined to turn away from every anxious and jealous suggestion, to
believe as long as I could, that my husband was as deserving of my
love and confidence when absent as he was when present, and to make a
vigorous effort to stop myself on my way to being a fretful, jealous,
and miserable wife.
Nor did I break my resolution, as you well know, my dear friend; for, if
I had, you would never have even fancied that I deserved to be exhibited
as an example of a wife's duty. But if I had not begun to school myself
when I did, all would have been over with me.
I cannot help observing here, that this painful jealousy, which I
endured so early in my married life, was owing to my having, in despite
of my mother's wise prohibition, united myself to a man of the steadiness
of whose principles I had had too much reason to doubt; and I could not
help saying to myself sometimes,--"If I had married De Walden, I should
have had none of these misgivings."
As the hour of my confinement drew nearer and nearer, Seymour's tender
attentions increased; and at length, after severe suffering I became a
mother; but scarcely had I been allowed to gaze upon my child, scarcely
had I heard its first faint cry,--that sound which thrills so powerfully
through the heart,--when its voice was stopt by death, and it closed its
eyes for ever.
I am afraid I should have borne this affliction very ill, had I not been
obliged to exert myself to quiet the fears of my husband and my mother
for my life, as they thought that the shock might be fatal.
I had also to console them; for they were both grieved and disappointed.
But their feelings were transitory; mine were still in full force when
they believed they were forgotten: for, besides the sorrow I felt for
the loss of that being whose helpless cry still vibrated in my ears, I
felt that I had lost in it a strong cement to the tie which bound my
husband to me. Nor till I found myself again likely to become a mother
was I really consoled.
A circumstance happened which induced me to conceal my situation; and
this was an invitation which my mother received from the Count De
Walden, to accompany his sister, and her husband back to Switzerland
when they left England, which they were then visiting, and to stay some
months with him and Ferdinand De Walden.
This invitation I well knew she would refuse, if she knew that accepting
it would prevent her being with me during my period of suffering; and I
allowed her to depart for Switzerland, with the expectation of returning
time enough to attend on me.
I own that this was a great trial to my selfishness, as I knew I should
miss her greatly: but I thought the excursion would be so pleasing a
one to her, that I felt it my duty to make the sacrifice. I suffered my
husband to remain in ignorance also, lest he should betray me to her:
and I had judged rightly; for when I owned the truth to him, it was with
great difficulty I could prevail on him not to write, and say I had
deceived her.
Alas! I had but too much reason to regret even this deception, which
might be called a virtuous one.
It so happened that I had no married friend, or near relation, who could
come to be with me at that time; and as Pendarves wished me to have a
female companion, I was induced to accept the eagerly proffered services
of a young lady, the eldest daughter of a numerous family, who had
conceived a great attachment to my husband and me, and was very
solicitous to be with me during my confinement.
This girl had such a warm and open manner, that I fancied her one of the
most artless of human beings; and I was so weak as to consider the gross
flattery which she lavished on me and on Pendarves, as the honest
overflowings of an affectionate heart.
I was, I own, a little startled when she used to kiss my husband's
picture as it lay on my table, when she became my guest, and when I
saw her come behind him, and cut off a lock of his hair, but as she
afterwards begged for a piece of mine, that she might unite them in a
locket, I considered this little circumstance as nothing but a flight
of girlish romance.
What Pendarves thought of it I know not; but he blushed excessively when
he saw that I observed it, and tried to take the hair from her; on which
a sort of romping ensued, that I thought vulgar, I own; but it called
forth no other feeling.
Perhaps had she been handsome I should not have been so easy; but she
was in my eyes plain and could scarcely, I thought, be called a fine
girl. Besides, I had heard Seymour say she was dowdy and awkward. But
few men are proof against the flatteries and attentions of any woman
who is not old and ugly; and I soon found, though without any jealous
fear, that Charlotte Jermyn had power to amuse my husband, and that her
enthusiastic admiration of every thing which she liked was a source of
never-failing entertainment to him.
He now was sufficiently intimate with her, he thought, to venture
to hint the necessity of a reform in her dress; and she wore better
clothes, became clean, if not neat, and in time she even learnt to look
rather tidy; while Pendarves was flattered to see the effect of his
admonitions, and used to reward her by challenging her to a long walk.
At length, after I had been confined to my sofa some weeks, I had the
happiness of giving birth to a daughter; and my young nurse was most
kind and assiduous in her attendance upon me; indeed, so much so that
she often shortened my husband's visits, on the kind plea that I was
not yet strong enough to bear long ones from one so dear; and I, though
reluctantly, dismissed him.
But I soon observed that her own visits became very short; that she
used still to kiss me, and call me "dearest creature!" and tell me how
beautiful I looked in my night-cap: but now, when I asked for her I was
told that she was gone out with Pendarves. And once, as he was standing
by my bedside, she was not contented with saying he had been with me
long enough, but she linked her arm in his, and dragged him away in a
manner at once hoydenish and familiar.
I also saw that though she loaded my sweet baby with caresses when he
was present, and tried to take her from him, she scarcely noticed it
when he was absent.
Still I felt no distrust, because I had confidence in my husband's
honour and affection. But I now saw that the countenances of my nurse
and my maid, when I inquired for Miss Jermyn, used to assume an angry
expression; and once my maid, muttered, that she supposed she was with
her master, for he could not stir but she was after him.
This I did not seem to hear; but it made me thoughtful.
When I had been confined three weeks, I was able to leave my chamber
for my dressing-room, which overlooked the garden; and one day, as I
ventured to the window for the first time, I saw Charlotte Jermyn
walking with my husband, and ever and anon hanging on his arm, almost
leaning her head against him occasionally, and looking up in his face
(he the while reading a book) with an expression of fondness which
alarmed and disgusted me. I then saw her snatch the book from him; and
as he tried to regain it, a great romping match ensued, and lasted till
they ran out of my sight, and left me pale, motionless, and miserable.
For I found that I had been exposing my husband to the allurements of a
coquettish romp; and though I acquitted both him and her of aught that
was wrong, I still felt that no prudent wife would place the man she
loved in such a situation.
Many, many a wife, it is well known, has had to rue the hour when at
a period like this she has introduced into her family a young and
seemingly attached friend.
What was to be done? I saw that the servants were aware of what was
passing, and they would not judge with the candour that I did.
I therefore convinced myself that regard for my husband's reputation,
and not jealousy, determined me to get down stairs and out again as fast
as possible, in order that I might make some excuse for sending my
dangerous attendant away, or at least be a guard over her conduct.
But, to my great surprise and joy, my beloved mother arrived most
unexpectedly that morning; for I had insisted on her not returning
sooner on my account, as I was so well. However, she did come; and I
received her with rapture for more reasons than one; for now I had an
excuse for sending Miss Jermyn away directly, as I wanted the best room
for my mother.
Accordingly, I told her that in two day's time my mother would take up
her abode with us for a few weeks; and that as Mrs. Jermyn had long been
desirous of her return, I hoped she would hold herself in readiness to
set off for home on the next day but one, as my mother always slept in
the room which _she_ occupied.
"O dearest Mrs. Seymour! do not send me away from you," cried the
strange girl, clasping and wringing her hands, "or I shall die with
grief; for I shall think you do not love me, and I shall never survive
it!"
The time for my belief in such rhodomontade was now happily past, and I
coolly replied, "that in no other but the best and most convenient room
in the house could I allow my mother to sleep; therefore she must go."
"Why so, Mrs. Seymour? I can sleep any where. There is a press bed in
the little room; and I care not where I sleep, so I am but permitted to
stay."
Here she attempted to throw her arms fondly round me, while she repeated,
"Do, there's a sweet woman, do let me stay!"
"Impossible!" I replied, disengaging myself with a look of aversion from
her embrace. On which she started up and exclaimed,
"I am sure some one has been telling you stories of me, and you are set
against me!"
"There is no one in this house, Miss Jermyn, who would presume to say
any thing to me against any guest of mine."
"And pray, does Mr. Pendarves know I am to be sent away at a moment's
warning?"
"He does not yet know that you are going away at two day's notice, to
make room for my mother, and that I may enjoy her society, after a long
absence, uninterrupted."
"Oh! if that be all, I will promise never to interrupt your
_tete-a-tetes_."
"They will not be _tete-a-tetes_: my husband will be of our party."
"And pray," answered she with great sullenness, "how am I to go home? I
am sure Mr. Pendarves will not approve of my going home in the stage
without a protector."
"Nor would his wife: and I will settle the mode of conveyance with him."
"Oh! if I must go, I will see if I cannot settle that myself."
At this moment my mother entered the room, and with her my husband; and
Miss, to hide her disordered countenance, abruptly disappeared.
"What is the matter with Miss Jermyn?" said Seymour: and I told him, but
in a voice that was not as assured as I wished it to be.
"So soon!" cried he, starting. "Is it not too sudden? Will it not look
as if she was sent away in a hurry?"
"Sent away in a hurry!" exclaimed my mother, looking earnestly in his
face. "Why should any one suspect that?"
"Oh, dear! No one ought, certainly; but after her having staid so
long--However, I think she has been here long enough, and the sooner she
goes the better."
"Then, as you think thus, and her mother has long wished for her, her
departure shall remain fixed for the day after to-morrow, and"--Here I
was interrupted by Seymour's being called out of the room: he did not
return for some minutes; when he did, he seemed disturbed.
During his absence the nurse brought me my child; and both my mother and
myself were too agreeably engaged with her to talk of Charlotte Jermyn.
But Seymour's evident abstraction and uneasy countenance drew my
mother's attention to him; and after a moment's thought she said, "That
seems a very strange presuming girl, Seymour; and I really think with
you it is time she were gone."
"Oh, yes, certainly! and she is very willing to go."
"So much the better," replied my mother; while I suppressed, for fear
of alarming her suspicions, the "How do you know that?" which was on my
lips; for, if her feelings were so changed, he must have changed them;
and she it was who had desired him to be called out of the room.
Seymour's horses now came to the door; but before he left us I begged to
know how he meant Miss Jermyn should travel.
"She came," said I, "in the coach which passes our gate; but then her
mother's maid came with her, and I cannot spare a servant to attend
her."
"I can drive her home in my curricle: if we set off at five in the
morning, we can perform the journey with ease before dark."
Pendarves said this in a hurried conscious manner, which did not escape
the quick eye of my mother; and while I hesitated how I could best
word my decided objection to this plan, which would I knew excite
disagreeable observations amongst the servants, that ever watchful
friend replied, "Hear my plan, which is far better than yours. The
mornings are yet dark and cold at five: lend me your horses for my
chariot; and as I want to visit a friend of De Walden's, who lives
half way to Mr. Jermyn's, with whom I have business, I will take this
opportunity of going. My maid shall accompany us, and while I stay at
Mr. Dumont's she shall see Miss Jermyn safe to her father's."
"Well, if Miss Jermyn likes this plan."
"She would prefer going with you, no doubt," said I smiling; "but as
this plan will be a convenience to my mother, we need not consult her
wishes."
"O no! very true, very true," said he in a fluttered tone (_but not
owning that he had promised to drive her_): "and when I return from my
ride, I shall expect to find you have arranged every thing with her."
He then ran down stairs and galloped off, as if to avoid speaking to
Charlotte; for I saw her from the window run along the path to the road,
to catch his eye if she could, and give him a signal to stop and speak
to her.
Soon after she joined us; and I thought I saw a triumphant meaning on
her countenance, which increased to a look of almost avowed exultation,
when, on my saying, "Now let us tell you how we have arranged matters
for your journey," she eagerly interrupted me, and exclaimed, "Oh! I
have arranged that with Mr. Pendarves, and he is to drive me in his
curricle."
I did not answer her, for her look disconcerted me; but my mother did,
coldly saying, "Mr. Pendarves did mean to do so, but for my convenience
he has changed his plan."
She then went on to inform her what the new plan was; and the mortified
indignant girl burst into tears, and left the room.
"That is a very self-willed, pernicious young person, I suspect,"
observed my mother: "but I flatter myself that her journey with me will
do her some good; at least, if it does not, it shall not be my fault."
Then, being too wise and too delicate to say more, she changed the
subject: nor was any allusion made to Miss Jermyn till Seymour returned
on foot; for he left his horse at the stables; and as he saw us in the
drawing-room, which was on the ground floor, he came in at the window,
being impatient, he said, to welcome me down stairs.
But he had probably another reason for that mode of entrance. He feared,
I suspect, that Charlotte Jermyn would want to speak to him, and he was
not disposed to listen to her reproaches for having given up his design
of driving her home.
My suspicions were confirmed by my seeing her walking along the path
which commanded the approach to the house, and this path Seymour had
avoided by going to the stables: but she did not long remain there, for
on looking towards the house she saw my husband standing at the window
with me, with one arm round my waist, while with his other hand he was
stroking the cheek of the child which I held to my bosom, and was
rocking to rest.
Happy as I was at this moment, I could not help throwing a hasty glance
towards this strange girl, who now rapidly drew near; and as she passed
the window curtsied to us, with a countenance in which every unamiable
feeling seemed to be uppermost.
She then threw open the hall door with violence, threw it to with the
same force, then ran to her own chamber, and closed the door of that
with such energy that it could be heard all over the house. Nor did we
see her again till dinner, when, though she had taken uncommon pains
with her dress, her eyes were swelled with crying, and her whole
appearance so indicative of gentle sorrow that Seymour's voice softened
even into tenderness when he addressed her, and mine was consequently
as strikingly cold and severe. Meanwhile, my mother was a silent but an
observant spectator; and both Pendarves and Miss Jermyn seemed oppressed
by the penetrating glance of her eye.
In the evening Seymour proposed reading to us aloud; and as I wished to
sit up late for reasons you may easily guess, I was glad of so good an
excuse as staying to hear an interesting book would be: but I had reason
to repent having allowed feeling to prevail over prudence: for when
my mother came to me the next day she found I had caught cold, and,
together with the fatigue of sitting up too late, was in no condition
to go down that day at all. Nor could my mother bear to leave me:
consequently, I had the mortification of finding that in trying to avoid
a slight evil I had fallen into a greater. But my mother, who had, I
doubt not, heard from her maid what the servants had observed, requested
Miss Jermyn would be so kind as to sit with us, and teach her two sorts
of work which she excelled in; and she could not without great incivility
refuse compliance. However, at the hour when she was accustomed to
walk with Seymour, she started up, declaring she could stay no longer,
because it was her last day there, and she was sure Mr. Pendarves would
walk with her. We could not object to this on any proper ground; and she
was putting her knitting and netting into her work bag, when we heard a
carriage drive to the door, and a servant came up to inform me that Lord
Charles Belmour was below, and his master desired him to say he meant to
dine with us.
Little did I think that Lord Charles would ever be a welcome guest to
me; but at this moment he was so, for I saw that Charlotte Jermyn looked
disappointed. My joy however vanished when I recollected that it was by
no means desirable Lord Charles should witness this indiscreet girl's
evident attachment to Pendarves; and just before she went to her own
apartment, my mother said, to my great relief, "You must then dine with
us to-day, Miss Jermyn; for you are too young and too old at the same
time to be the only female at a table where Lord Charles Belmour is."
"Well, if I _must_, I must," was her reply; and she left us.
But while I was rejoicing that circumstances would force her to dine
with us, I heard her rapidly ascending the stairs; and throwing open the
door hastily, she told us, with a look of delight, that she was going
to walk; for Lord Charles had brought his sister Lady Harriet with
him, whom he was conveying home from school for the holidays, and Mr.
Pendarves had told her she must do the honours to the young lady as I
was not able to attend her. "And so," she added, "I must also dine
below, for he told me so." And without waiting for our opinion or reply,
she again disappeared, and we soon after saw her laughing with Lord
Charles on the lawn, as if she had known him for years.
"How he will show her off," said my mother, "to-day! That young man has
more ingenuous malignity about him than any one I ever saw. When I was
nursing Seymour at Oxford, he came to see him; and in order to make the
poor invalid laugh, he used to make masters, deans, and fellow-commoners
pass in rapid succession before us, like the distorted figures in a
magic lantern."
This view of what was likely to happen was a relief to my mind; for I
had not expected that Lord Charles would try to draw her forth for his
own amusement; I had feared he would be contented to amuse himself with
observing her admiration of Pendarves.
When they returned from their walk, I was vexed to observe that Lady
Harriet held her brother's arm, not my husband's; and I also saw that
Charlotte leaned on him, and looked up in his face in the same improper
manner as she did when they were alone. I was very glad that Lord
Charles and his sister walked before them.
Pendarves now came up stairs to beg, as I was not able to dine below, or
see Lord Charles otherwise, that I would go to the window and kiss my
hand to him in token of welcome; for that he was afraid to stay, because
he believed he was a disagreeable guest, and that I kept up stairs
merely because he was come. He also begged that I would after dinner
admit Lady Harriet for a few minutes.
I promised compliance with both these requests, and went to the window
directly.
Lord Charles answered my really cordial salutation with a most lowly
bow, and a countenance meant to express every thing that was respectful
and courteous, and drew from my mother, to whom he also bowed, the
observation of "Graceful coxcomb!" Now do I fancy him saying within
himself, 'There, I have made that haughty old woman believe that I
respect her and her loftiness to her heart's content.'
Pendarves could not help smiling at this right reading, as it probably
was, of his satirical friend's thoughts: but he assured her that
admiration the most unbounded was, as well as respect, felt by his
friend towards her; and that he considered a woman of her age as in the
prime of her charms.
"Nonsense!" cried my mother; and my husband, laughing, returned to Lord
Charles.
Charlotte Jermyn did not come to us before she went down to dinner, as
she had Lady Harriet with her; but, when they left the dinner-room, I
desired to see them in mine: and for the first time I thought her
pretty; for her cheeks glowed with a very brilliant and becoming
colour, which added to the fire of her eyes; and her dress was neat
and lady-like. She had the countenance, too, of one who had been much
commended, and felt certain that the commendations were sincere.
"I am glad she is going to-morrow," said I mentally, and I sighed at the
same time. Lady Harriet was a good foil to her, except in manners: for
there could be no comparison: and by the side of Lady Harriet, Miss
Jermyn was pretty.
As soon as they had had coffee the brother and sister drove off, but not
before Lord Charles had fixed to return that day fortnight to dinner, on
condition of my dining below.
When they were gone my mother went down to make the tea; and after that
meal was ended she asked if there was any objection to Seymour's going
on in my dressing-room with the book which he began the night before,
and in his reading till it was time for me to go to rest.
He complied instantly, and read till I was tired.
My mother then proposed that he should read me to sleep: to this also he
agreed, and while I lay with the curtains closed round, my mother, he
and Charlotte sat round the fire; and it was eleven before I ceased to
hear, and Pendarves retired to his own chamber.
My mother then went away, desiring Charlotte to be ready at six, as she
should breakfast with her at that hour. But, as I afterwards found, she
reached our house on foot before six, and just as Pendarves came down
stairs.
By these apparently undesigned circumstances my mother prevented any
scene that might have called forth unpleasant observations in the
family; but, she could not prevent a most sorrowful parting on the side
of the young lady. She wept, she sobbed, she leaned against Seymour's
shoulder when he put his lips to her cheek; and he was nearly obliged to
carry her to the carriage; for she declared she would not go till she
had taken leave of me: but my mother was as positive that I should not
be disturbed, and Pendarves gently forced her to the door.
What passed between my mother and her when they were on the journey and
alone,--for the maid always preferred travelling outside,--I do not
know: but I suspect that she animadverted on her conduct and want of
self-control in a manner more judicious than pleasant.
During these vexatious occurrences I must own that it was a sort of
comfort to me, that my aunt Pendarves had such inflamed eyes that she
could not write; for otherwise the chances were that she might hear
some exaggerated accounts of our visitor's conduct, and might think it
necessary to address one of us on the subject, and give us good advice.
Well: this pernicious girl was gone, and my mind at ease again. Still,
I feared that she had done me a serious injury: not that I believed she
had alienated my husband's heart from me, or from propriety; but she
had been the first person to accustom him to find amusement at home
independent of me and of the exertion of my talents. He was an indolent
man, and she had amused him, and beguiled away his hours, without
obliging him to any exertion of mind. Besides, she was not only a new
companion, but a new conquest. He was certainly flattered by it, and
evidently interested. I was led to draw these conclusions by observing
the gapish state into which Pendarves fell the day after her departure.
He seemed to miss an accustomed dram. He gave me indeed, on my
requesting it, a lesson in Spanish, which I had long neglected; but he
seemed to do it as if it was a trouble, and he was too absent to make
the lesson of much use. I however forbore to remark what I could not but
painfully feel, and I fancied that my best plan would be to contrive
some new objects of interest at home, if I could: but on second thoughts
I resolved to propose that he should visit a sick friend of his at
Malvern hills, for a few days, as I believed it not to be for my
interest he should stay to contrast his present with his late home; but
that he should go away to return from an invalid and the cold hills of
Malvern, to me and his own comfortable dwelling.
I no sooner named my plan to him than he eagerly caught at it, declaring
that he wished to go, but feared that I should think the wish unkind.
Accordingly, he only staid to see my mother comfortably settled as my
guest, and then set off for Malvern. Nor did he return till three or
four days before he expected Lord Charles. By that time I had recovered
my bloom and my strength, and our infant had acquired a fortnight's
growth,--an interesting event in the life of a young parent; and I
assure you it was thought such by Pendarves: and while he complimented
me on my restored comeliness, and held his little Helen in his arms, I
felt that he had no thought or wish beyond those whom he clasped and
looked upon.