"Perhaps I am wrong thus dejected to be;
But my faithful eyes never wander from _thee_.
On beauty and youth _I unconsciously_ gaze,
No thought, no emotion in me they can raise;
And ah! if thine eyes get the habit to roam,
How can I _be certain_ they'll EVER COME HOME?"
"Oh! trust thy own charms! See the bee as he flies,
And visits each blossom of exquisite dies;
There culls of their sweetness some store for his cell;
But short are his visits, and prompt his farewell;
For still he remembers, howe'er he may roam,
That _hoard of delight_ which AWAITS HIM AT HOME.
"Then trust me, however thy Henry may roam,
I feel my best pleasures AWAIT ME AT HOME."
"I'll try to believe, howsoever thou roam,
Thy heart's dearest pleasures await thee at home."
"That is a charming duet," cried Seymour when it was ended. Then leaning
behind Lady Martindale and Lord Charles, and calling to me, he said,
with a look from which my conscious eye shrunk, "Helen, I admire the
sentiment of that duet. I think, my love, we will get it--we should sing
it _con amore_, should we not?" I could not look at him as I replied,
"_I_ could, I am sure."
"Silly girl," he added in a low and kind tone, "and so, I am sure, could
I."
I then ventured to raise my eyes to his; and his expression was such,
that I felt quite a different creature, and was able to enjoy the rest
of the evening.
But why do I enter into these minute and unimportant details? Let me
efface them--but no, perhaps they may chance to meet the eyes of some
whose hearts have felt the anxieties and the vicissitudes of mine, and
to them they may be interesting.
Lord Martindale was now requested to favour the company with a song,
and with great good nature he instantly complied;--while Lord Charles
whispered across me to my mother, "What a disgrace that fellow is to the
peerage!"
"By his vices I grant you," replied my mother, "but not by his obliging
compliance."
Lord Charles shrugged up his shoulders and was about to reply, when
Silence was vociferated rather angrily by the lady of the house, who had
not been blind to the airs which, as she said, Lord Charles had given
himself the whole evening. Lord Martindale, as may be supposed, was
greatly applauded, on the same principle as that mentioned by the poet
with regard to noble authors:
"For if a lord once own the happy lines,
How the wit brightens! how the taste refines!"
and the noisy expressions of admiration which rewarded a very mediocre
performance did not increase the good humour of our noble guest, against
whom I saw an attack preparing at the bottom of the table. At length
a very pretty girl, and who had sung with considerable skill, tried
to engage the attention of Lord Charles; and finding "Sir" was not
sufficient, she added "Mr. Belmour, Sir!" But some one whispered, "He is
a Lord;" on which she said, "Dear me! Well then, My lord, Lord Belmour;"
and Lord Charles turned towards the pretty speaker, while a half-muttered
"Vulgar animal!" was audible to my mother and myself, and formed a
ludicrous contrast to the affectedly respectful attention and bent head
with which he listened to what she had to observe.
But when he found that the young lady was requesting him to sing, and
that she declared she had a claim on him, his expression of mingled
_hauteur_, astonishment, and indignation, was highly comic, and we who
knew him were eagerly expecting his answer, when we heard him say,
having bowed and smirked his hand affectedly to his heart at the same
time, "with the greatest pleasure in life;--which wine, claret or
Champagne?"
"Dear me," cried the young lady, "I did not ask you to drink, but to
sing, my lord."
"Oh! Champagne; very good. Carry a glass to that young lady:" but she
indignantly rejected it, and repeated her request.
"I beg pardon," replied the impracticable Lord Charles, "I thought you
said Champagne: then take claret to the young lady," who in vain exerted
her voice. He remained quite deaf, holding his ear like a deaf person,
much to the amusement of the company and the confusion of the fair
supplicant, who had been encouraged by the admiring glances which Lord
Charles had till now bestowed on her, to think that any request from her
would have been attended to.
Thus far Lord Charles's endangered dignity had come off with flying
colours, as it was no great affront to be requested to sing by a pretty
girl, even though she had told him that he had a singing face, and
looked like a singer; for the turn which he had given to her application
got the laugh on his side, and he was very sure that she would not so
presume again. But he was not to be let off so easily; for Mr. Oswald,
who, being almost "as drunk as a lord," felt himself quite as great as
one, now came behind Lord Charles, and giving him a sounding blow across
the back, exclaimed with an oath, "Come, now, Belmour, there is a good
fellow, do sing, for I have heard you are a comical dog when you like."
If a look could have annihilated, that instant would the little fat man
have disappeared from off the face of the earth. The glance of Lord
Charles was powerless even to wound Mr. Oswald; and he was equally
unmoved when, scorning even to answer his importunate host, our friend
suddenly addressed my mother, saying, "I think, Mrs. Pendarves, you
desired me to call your carriage?"
"You are mistaken, my lord," replied my mother, with a reproving
look which he well understood; and his tormentor was going to assail
him again, when Seymour, to relieve Lord Charles, drew him into
conversation; and I had just advised his still irritated guest to
remember that Oswald was intoxicated, when our attention was attracted
to a conversation between Mrs. Oswald and another lady, of which Lord
Charles was the subject; and it was evident that Mrs. Oswald spoke of
him in no friendly tone.
"Yes, my lord," said she, "you may look; we were certainly talking of
your lordship."
"You do me much honour, madam."
"That is as it may be, my lord; but I was trying to do you justice, for
my friend said it was pride that prevented your singing; but _I_ said--"
(and here she raised her voice to a shriller and more ludicrous pitch
than usual) "yes, I said, says I, 'That is impossible, my dear; it
cannot be pride; for if a real peer of the realm,' says I, 'the real
thing, condescends to sing and amuse the company, surely Lord Charles
Belmour need not be above it, who is only a commonly called, you know.'"
Instantly, to my consternation, and afterwards to his own, Lord Charles,
thrown off his guard by this sarcasm, echoed her last words, and gave
her tone and manner so exactly, that the effect upon the company was
irresistible, and a general laugh ensued; which, to do him justice,
shocked more than it gratified the self-condemned mimic, who could only
for a moment be provoked to violate the rules of good breeding; and he
was completely subdued, when Mrs. Oswald, with a degree of forbearance
and good-humour which exalted her in my esteem, observed, "Well, my
lord, you have condescended to exert your talent of mimicry, though you
would not sing; and though it was at my expense, I am grateful to you,
as you have contributed to amuse my company."
"Admirably replied!" exclaimed my mother.
"Excellent, excellent, bravo!" cried Pendarves; while Lord Charles,
admonished, penitent and ashamed, was not slow to redeem himself from
the sort of disgrace which he had incurred. Rising gracefully and
bowing his head on his clasped hands, he solicited her pardon for the
liberty which her evident nature had emboldened him to take, declaring
at the same time, that if she forgave him, it would be long before he
should forgive himself.
Mrs. Oswald, who was really as kind-hearted as she seemed, readily
granted the pardon which he asked, and he respectfully pressed her
offered hand to his lips. He did more; for while the carriages were
called, he suddenly disappeared, and in a moment we could have fancied
ourselves at the door of Drury-lane or Covent-garden; for the offered
services of link-boys, the cries of "Coach, coach," and "Here, your
honour," with all the different sounds, were heard in the hall; and
while the guests listened delighted to this new and unexpected
entertainment, the Oswalds were, I saw, evidently gratified at finding
that it proceeded from the talent of Lord Charles. O the unnecessary
humiliation to which pride exposes itself! Had he civilly though firmly
refused the young lady's and Mr. Oswald's request to sing, and not
discovered in the evening his haughty contempt for the company and his
host, or insulted his hostess, he needed not to have condescended to an
expiatory exhibition from which under other circumstances his pride
would have properly revolted.
Thus ended this to me disagreeable evening, which extended far into
the morning. The drive home was pleasant; for Lord Charles, having
reconciled himself to himself by his ample _amende honorable_, and by
the generous candour with which he received our reproofs, thought he
was privileged to indulge his less amiable feelings by turning some of
the company into ridicule, and exhibiting them to the very life before
us. I must own that I again felt an ungenerous pleasure in some part of
the entertainment, namely his mimicry of Lady Martindale, which I vainly
endeavoured to subdue, and I was glad that, as Pendarves rode on the
box, he did not witness my degradation. I must add, that both my mother
and myself were gratified to observe that Lord Charles forbore to mimic
our kind but vulgar host and hostess; and my mother took care to let him
know indirectly that his delicacy was not lost upon her.
Another performance was fixed for that day week; the original Letitia
Hardy, however, was expected, and most gladly did I offer to resign my
part to her. Still, I was mortified to see with how little concern
Pendarves heard me offer my resignation, and saw it accepted. Alas!
not even Lord Charles's and my mother's joy at my being removed from a
situation which they thought unworthy of me, could reconcile me to his
indifference on the subject.
The next day Lord Charles was to leave us; but I saw that his departure
was more welcome to my husband than to my mother and myself. In the
morning he had requested Pendarves to walk with him round the grounds,
and they returned, I observed, with disturbed countenances.
Lord Charles then called, and sat some time with my mother. What passed
between them I do not know; but their parting was even affectionate,
and his with me was distinguished from all our other partings by a
degree of emotion for which I could not account.
"How I shall miss you!" said I, softened by his dejection.
"Thank you! I can bear better to leave you now:" and springing into his
carriage he drove off and I felt forlorn; for I felt that I had lost a
friend: and I also felt that I wanted one who, like him, had some check
over my husband.
What more shall I say of this painful period of my life, for which,
however, painful as it was, I would gladly have exchanged that which
soon followed? One day was a transcript of the other. Pendarves, ever
good-natured and kind while he was at home, seemed to think that he was
thereby justified in leaving me continually; but as I was not of that
opinion, to use a French phrase, _je deperissois a vue d'oeil;_ and
though I affected to be cheerful, my mother saw that my feelings were
undermining my existence. But not even to her would I complain of my
husband and she respected my silence too much to wish me to break it.
However she was with me,--she, I felt, never would forsake me, or love
me less; and while I had her, I was far from being completely miserable.
Alas! what was she not to me? friend, counsellor, comforter!
But the decree was gone forth, and even her I was doomed to resign!
Not long after Lord Charles had quitted us, I perceived a visible
alteration in my mother's appearance. I saw that she ate little, that
she was very soon fatigued, and that her fine spirits were gone. I had
no doubt but that she fretted for my anxieties. I therefore laboured the
more to convince her that I was not as uneasy as she thought me.
But how vainly did I try to veil my heart from her penetrating glance!
if there be such a thing as the art of divination, it is possessed by
the eagle eye of interested affection, and that was hers.
My mother saw all my secret struggles; she pitied, she resented their
cause; and I have sometimes feared that she sunk under them.
One morning, Pendarves on his return from Oswald Lodge came in with a
very animated countenance, and told us a new description of amusement
was introduced there, namely, archery, and he must beg me to go with him
the next day, and learn to be an archer. "Lady Martindale," cried he,
"already shoots like Diana herself."
"The only resemblance, I should think," said my mother, "which she has
to Diana. But what do you say to this proposal, Helen? I must take leave
to say that, as your mother, you can never go to Oswald Lodge again with
my consent on any terms: and to engage in this new competition, oh!
never, never!"
"And why not, madam? There is nothing indelicate in such an exhibition;
and I own my pride in Helen, as a husband, made me wish to see her fine
form exhibited in the graceful action of shooting at a target. Besides,
as I really wish if possible to associate her in all my amusements, I
was delighted to think this new pursuit would have led her to join me
in my visits to the Lodge, and I am really desirous to know on what
grounds you object to her obliging me."
"On account of the company there. Mr. and Mrs. Oswald are weak, vain
people, fond of courting persons of quality; and so as they can but be
intimate with a Lord and Lady, they care not of what description they
are. This Lord Martindale is, I find, a man not much noticed by his
equals; and as to Lady Martindale, the woman who could so expose her
person in the dress of a Statue is not a fit companion for my daughter,
nor your wife."
"You are severe, madam; but what says Helen?"
"That my mother does not make sufficient allowances for the difference
of manners and ideas between a French and an English woman; and that
the dress which shocks us in the former does not necessarily prove
incorrectness of conduct."
"Incorrectness of conduct! and can your mother suppose I would introduce
my wife to a woman whom I knew to be incorrect in her conduct?"
"No, Seymour, no: I do you more justice. But it is my duty to inform you
that it is suspected this person is Lord Martindale's mistress only, not
his wife."
"Not his wife!" interrupted Seymour.
"No, so I am informed. As to him, you know his character is so infamous
that one can wonder at nothing he does; and he has been suspected of
being a spy for the French convention, as well as the lady."
"Madam," said Seymour, "I thought you had been above listening to tales
like these, and I cannot think myself justified in acting upon them. On
the contrary, by taking my wife to the Lodge, I think it right to show
my disregard of them, especially as by staying away, and by her distant
manner when there, Helen has already injured the character of Lady
Martindale, and made even my attentions to her the source of calumny.
This the afflicted lady told me with tears and lamentations, and Helen's
renewed visits can alone repair the injury her absence has done."
"So, then, this is the real reason of your wishing to make Helen a
sharer in your amusements, and to exhibit her fine form to advantage!"
exclaimed my mother indignantly. "But, Mr. Pendarves, if your constant
visits are injurious to the fame of this afflicted lady, you know your
remedy--discontinue them; for never, with my consent, shall my virtuous
daughter lend her assistance to shield any one from the infamy which
they deserve."
"Deserve, madam!" cried Seymour, as indignant as she was: "repeat
that, and, spite of the love and reverence I bear you, I shall exert
a husband's lawful authority, and see who dares dispute it."
"Not I," she replied, folding her arms submissively on her breast, "and
still less that poor trembling girl. No, Pendarves, my only resource now
is supplication and entreaty: and I conjure you, by the dear name of
your beloved mother, and by the memory of past fond and endearing
circumstances, and hours, to grant the prayer of a dying woman, and not
to force your wife to this abode of revelry and riot. I feel my days
are already numbered; and when I am taken from you, bitter will be your
recollections if you refuse, my son, and soothing if you grant my
prayer. I know you, Seymour, and I know that you cannot do any great
cruelty without great remorse."
It was some moments before Pendarves could speak; at length he
said--"Your request alone would have been sufficient, without your
calling up such agonizing ideas. Helen, my best love, tell your mother
you shall never go to Oswald Lodge again." He then put his handkerchief
to his eyes, and rushed out of the room.
"The foolish boy's heart is in the right place still," said my mother,
giving way to tears, but smiling at the same time.
But I, alas! could neither smile nor speak. She had called herself a
dying woman; and through the rest of the day I could do nothing but
look at and watch her, and go out of the room to weep; and my night
was passed in wretchedness and prayer.
The next day I found my husband cold and sullen in manner; and I
suspected that, having engaged to bring me to Oswald Lodge, he was
mortified and ashamed to go thither without me, and would, I doubted
not, make some excuse for my staying away which was not strictly true.
No one could feel more strongly or more virtuously than Pendarves: but
good feelings, unless they are under the guard of strict principles, are
subject to run away when summoned by the voice of pleasure and of error:
and before he set off for the archery ground, he told me he sincerely
repented his promise to my mother.