"If you please, sir," said Gaunt Stilling, on the second day after
their arrival in Norwich, as he stood before his young master, who was
seated reading, and had hardly raised his eyes at his entrance, "may I
ask you a question?"
"Certainly," replied Ralph; "what is it, Stilling?"
"Why, only just this, sir," answered Stilling; "I should like to know
if, before you set out, you mentioned my name to any one, or whether
any one else knew that I was going in your service?"
"No one whatever, Stilling," replied Ralph, "except myself, our friend
Moraber, and Mistress Margaret Woodhall, were at all acquainted with
the fact; for I did not mention the subject to my father, as he might
have imagined that I was about to launch into extravagance and
encounter expenses incompatible with my small means, and, moreover,
might have made himself uneasy during the whole period of my absence
with this thought, which I should never have been able to remove from
his mind, although I knew the impression to be wrong."
"Good, sir, good," replied Stilling; "and so now, by your leave and
permission, I will be called Stilling no longer, but, as the old poet
man says, 'your good servant ever;' I have my own reasons, sir."
"But I do not understand you," said Ralph; "do you wish to change your
name, or rather take one that does not belong to you?"
"Yes, sir, any good traveling designation," replied the young man,
gayly. "I am not of the rank or manners to dub myself captain; but any
thing else will do as well."
"As far as I am concerned, it will," replied Ralph; "but do not the
people of the house know your real name?"
"No, sir--no," replied Stilling; "I have waited till to-day to
announce myself, and I know you have not betrayed me; for I was asked
my name yesterday at supper at the third table, and begged time for
consideration and preparation."
Ralph did not at the moment recollect that he had written the man's
name with his own hand in the chamberlain's book, and he readily
acceded to his wishes, not caring much by what name he went. Stilling
fixed upon the designation of Tuckett--Jack Tuckett, and begged his
master to call him so for the future, with which Ralph promised to
comply unless memory played him an unpleasant trick, and brought back
the old name when he was off his guard.
This was all settled, and for a time produced no consequences. Ralph
did not choose to pry into the motives of this transformation; and, to
say the truth, he was so occupied in thinking of the slow progress of
his own affairs that he soon forgot the matter altogether, accustomed
himself to call the servant Tuckett, and hardly remembered that he
ever had another name. Slow progress! Oh, the eager hopes of youth,
how they hurry us on to disappointing conclusions! He had been five
days in the house of the Duke of Norfolk. He had seen more or less of
that nobleman every day, and had been treated by him with kindness and
distinction; but not a word had yet been said in regard to his views
or prospects; and Ralph's spirit fretted within him to find the wheels
move so much more slowly than he had expected.
At length one day the duke sent up a message to his room, importing
that he was about, that morning, to set out upon a visit to a
neighboring nobleman, at whose house the Earl of Sunderland was to
meet him. He thought it might be advantageous to his young friend, he
said, to be acquainted with that nobleman, and he would take him with
him if he would consent to travel without a servant, as the house
would be somewhat crowded.
Ralph smiled when he received the message, and immediately prepared to
go. Stilling, or, as we must now call him, Jack Tuckett, seemed
delighted with the arrangement, and asked permission, during his
master's absence, to make an expedition of his own. His request was
readily complied with; and the two parted not long after, Ralph to
accompany the duke, and the other to go whithersoever his fancy led.
Nothing resulted from the interview with Lord Sunderland; and his
character is too well known in history for me to dwell upon the
impression he produced on Ralph's mind. The young man was naturally
charmed with his winning address, and easy, unaffected manners. There
was about him, too, a tone of superiority and confidence in his own
opinions, which were somewhat impressive to inexperience. It is not to
be wondered at, when men of great powers of mind, already forewarned
of Sunderland's treacherous vacillation, yielded to the peculiar
powers of fascination which he possessed, and believed him sincere and
steady in his convictions, after he had been weighed a thousand times
and found wanting, that a young man like Ralph Woodhall should be
deceived by his pretensions to purity and truth.
The Duke of Norfolk, however, from to time read a comment upon the
conduct of the statesman which was of service to his young friend; and
several of the gentlemen who were present made observations upon
Sunderland's professions, or told anecdotes of his former doings,
which served in some degree to open Ralph's eyes. The time passed very
pleasantly, however. Lord Sunderland seemed to have conceived a great
friendship for the young country gentleman, would take a morning walk
with him, and talk of classic lore and the stores of art in other
lands with eloquence and information such as few possessed. But yet
there was something unsatisfactory in the whole, which Ralph felt
without being able to detect what it was--a want of something,
probably of sincerity and frankness, which deprived his conversation
of much of its charm.
At the end of six days the duke set out on his return, and the whole
party reached Norwich somewhat late in the evening. Ralph found that
his servant had not yet returned; but he was already a favorite in the
household, and one of the duke's men came up to his room, and
volunteered to perform the offices of "Mr. Tuckett."
"There are to be great doings to-night, sir," he said; "it is a ball
night here. A great number of ladies and gentlemen have arrived from
different parts to stay with his grace since you went; all the country
round is invited, and the duke's carriages have gone out to bring in
the company from the town. The state-rooms, too, are open, where every
thing is of gold or silver, even to the tongs and pokers; so there
will be a grand sight."
Ralph dressed himself as speedily as possible in the best array that
his wardrobe would afford, and, receiving directions from the man who
came to assist him as to the way toward the state apartments he had
mentioned, descended without any of those emotions which vanity often
produces in even the practiced in such scenes when they expect to play
a conspicuous part. His mind was set upon higher objects; and he
neither hoped nor wished to attract attention, or to win admiration in
courtly halls. He had to descend--from the second floor of the house,
where his rooms were situated--a large oaken stair-case, from which,
at each landing-place, led away, in four directions, different
corridors leading to numerous suites of apartments; and as, by the
time he went down, guests were arriving thick, the galleries were
thronged with gay groups, hurrying across or pausing for a moment to
look over the balustrades at the parties entering the hall below.
Among the rest, Ralph stopped for an instant to gaze upon the
brilliant moving scene, and, leaning over, bent his eyes upon the
landing-place just beneath. Suddenly a figure passed across, the sight
of which made him start and run down with a quick step. It was gone
before he reached the landing; but if there was any sight in the eyes
of love, that figure, he felt certain, was that of his Margaret.
He hurried on to the state apartments, where more than a hundred
persons were already assembled, while the duke, all affability and
kindness, was standing in the third saloon, receiving his guests, and
saying some kind and courteous words to each. It was a bright and
cheerful scene, and perhaps excelled in splendor the court of royalty
itself; but Ralph had no eyes for any thing but the search which he
made among the ever-increasing crowd for the figure he had seen. The
magnificent pictures on the walls, the beautiful statuary ranged
around--master-pieces of ancient and of modern art--the costly
decorations on which the wealth and taste of several generations had
been lavished, detained him not for a moment; but onward he passed,
till he reached the room where the duke had placed himself. There he
paused for an instant to salute the lord of the mansion, intending to
hurry on immediately after; but the duke called him kindly to his
side, giving him his Christian name as a mark of familiarity, and
introduced him to the bishop and several of the most distinguished
guests. Still Ralph was anxious to escape; but his noble patron had
other business for him.
"Here, Ralph," he said, "this fair lady, to whom I present you,
Hortensia, Lady Danvers, is anxious to see the bowling-green and
wilderness illuminated on this fine night. I must, alas! remain here
to receive all my coming guests, or I would be her guide myself. I can
not, however, intrust her to any one who will supply my place with
gallant courtesy better than yourself, my young friend. Madam, let me
beg you to know and esteem my young friend, Ralph Woodhall, whose good
qualities he will commend to you himself better than any words of mine
could do."
The lady whom he addressed was young and beautiful, and looked younger
even than she really was; for the features were all exceedingly small
and delicately chiseled, the complexion brilliantly fair, while there
was a world of youthful, speaking tenderness in her eyes, a sort of
beseeching look, which seldom survives a long acquaintance with the
great hardening world. She was magnificently dressed, but in a style
peculiar to herself, approaching that of the earlier part of the last
reign, rather than the stiffer mode which was already beginning to
prevail; but her rich brown hair, looped up in great masses with
diamonds, was arranged in a fashion which probably had never found
favor in any country generally; for it required features such as her
own, and a brow as beautiful as hers, to render it at all becoming.
With her the effect was beautiful and picturesque, and she certainly
was as lovely a creature, as she stood there by the duke's side, as
the eye could well behold.
Nevertheless, Ralph would have given all that he possessed in the
world to be free from the task of escorting her; but that could not
be. He had no excuse ready, even if any excuse could have been
available in such circumstances; and bowing low, he said, with the
pardonable hypocrisy of society, that he should be delighted to be her
guide. He knew not, in his ignorance of the ways of courtly life,
whether he ought to offer her his arm or not, and he hesitated; but he
saw many a gentleman and lady passing through the apartments arm in
arm, and bending his head as she took a step forward toward the door,
he asked, "Will you not lean on me?"
"With pleasure," she replied, taking his arm at once; and they walked
on through that room and the next. It must have been difficult for the
lady not to see that her companion's thoughts were not so exclusively
given to herself as she had perhaps a right to expect, or to avoid
noticing that his eyes often wandered from her beautiful face to
different parts of the halls, as if looking for something. But woman
is a strange creature, and very full of varieties. Some persons, of
irritable and all-absorbing vanity, would have felt offended, and
might have shown their anger. Not so Lady Danvers, however. What might
have offended, or rather, I should say, disgusted her more, would have
been the empty compliments and overcharged affectation of gallantry
which were so common in that day. At all events, Ralph's demeanor had
somewhat of the charm of novelty in it; and she seemed to apply
herself diligently to show him that she was worthy of more attention
than he paid her.
For some little time she was silent; but at length she said, in a low
voice, "I think you must be looking for some one, Mr. Woodhall."
"Only my cousin, of whom I caught a glance upon the stairs," replied
Ralph.
"And now you are wishing me far away," rejoined the lady, with a
smile; "but come, let us look for him before we go to the wilderness;
I am quite willing to join in the chase."
Ralph felt his rudeness; and, what perhaps was more to the purpose at
that moment, he was convinced--for he had used his eyes well--that
Margaret was not in the rooms. He had either been mistaken altogether
in supposing he had seen her, or else she had gone to change her
dress, which might, for aught he had remarked, been merely a traveling
costume.
He hastened, then, to atone, saying, "Oh no! I will not lead you such
a chase on any account; nor must you suppose any such rudeness in my
thoughts. I wished but to say two words to my cousin. But it matters
not; I shall find, I trust, another opportunity. Now let us go to the
wilderness; this is our way."
"You are very strange," said the lady, thoughtfully; "I have given you
a dozen opportunities of saying pretty things to me, and you have not
taken advantage of one. I suppose there is not another man in the
whole room who would have neglected any of them."
Ralph was about to put forth some apology, and to try to make some
amends; but Lady Danvers would not suffer him to proceed, lifting her
beautiful soft eyes to his face, and saying, "Stop! not a word of
excuse; I like you all the better. For wits, courtiers, gallants, and
fools I have a wonderful aversion."
"But at all events," replied Ralph, smiling, as they descended the
stone steps to the bank of the Wansum, "you must at one time have
liked courtiers better to choose one for your husband."
"My husband!" exclaimed the lady, with a clear, merry laugh; "I have
no such incumbrance, Mr. Woodhall. I see you do not know much about
me, although I know every thing about you. Now I will tell you all
about myself, which may, perhaps, cheer your task for you. The duke
called me Lady Danvers, for the best of all possible reasons, because
I am Lady Danvers--but in my own right, and not as the appendage of
any husband in Christendom. I and poor Henrietta Wentworth were in the
same position, baronesses in our own right, and great friends, too,
till she went away, though she is older than I am."
"Why do you call her poor Henrietta Wentworth?" asked Ralph; "I should
think to be an independent peeress did not deserve much compassion."
"Oh, ignorant man!" cried his fair companion; "I did not think there
was any one in the whole world who did not know that poor girl's
history. I can not tell it to you fully, for there is much therein I
would not wish to dwell on. Suffice it that she sacrificed all to
love--rank, wealth, consideration, friends, home, country!"
"I envy her," said Ralph, in a serious tone; "methinks that there
could be no greater happiness on earth than the opportunity of making
such a sacrifice."
"For a worthy object," replied the lady, in as grave a tone as his
own.
"And is he not worthy, for whom she has sacrificed all this?" demanded
Ralph, eagerly.
"Not worthy of such a sacrifice in any way," said Lady Danvers,
"except in love for her; there I believe he is perfect. Graceful,
handsome, affable, kind, and brave in the field he is; but I fear much
he is weak, vacillating, inconstant, and ungrateful to all but her: I
speak of Monmouth."
"What, the duke?" asked Ralph.
"The same," replied the lady; and there the conversation stopped for a
moment or two, while, passing over the bowling-green, which was
surrounded by a ring of lights, as if to shine upon fairy revels on
the greensward, they entered what was called the wilderness, where a
number of mazy walks, illuminated by many tricornered lanterns,
afforded ample opportunities for private meetings and whispered tales
of love.
"This is exceedingly pretty," said the lady, looking around her over
the scene, where the lanterns, shining through the green leaves,
produced the effect of a garden lighted by glowworms.
"Yes," replied Ralph, in an absent tone; "but you said just now, Lady
Danvers, that I knew little about you, while you knew every thing
about me. The first was unhappily quite true; the second, I doubt not,
was quite true also; but yet I can not well comprehend how any thing
regarding so insignificant a person as myself can have reached your
ladyship's ears."
"Now have I a great mind," replied Lady Danvers, "to punish you for
all your misdeeds this night, by keeping you in darkness and mystery.
I will even aggravate your suffering by telling you that I desired the
duke to introduce you to me, and leave you to discover the
interpretation for yourself."
"Nay, nay," said Ralph, "I am sure you will not be so cruel."
As he spoke, another party, conversing in gay, laughing tones, passed
along a walk close to that which they were following, and only
separated from it by a thin screen of hornbeam. The lady paused ere
she replied; but when the others had passed, she said, "Well, well, I
will be merciful, and spare you an unquiet night. You are the son of
Mr. Robert Woodhall, of The Grange, the duke told me. I must explain:
I asked him who you were as you crossed the room--for I thought you
very handsome, of course; and I thought you better dressed than any
other man there, because you had less gold lace and embroidery about
you. However, the duke told me; and then I knew all about you
directly. My dear mother, who left me here on earth some eighteen
months ago, was the early friend of your mother, her constant
companion in the days of girlhood, and she has often talked to me
about her. She had her picture ever hanging in her room, and I have
seen it a thousand times; but she always said it did her little
justice--that she was the most beautiful creature in all the world.
Then my mother would tell me how yours had chosen your father against
the wishes of many of her friends, and neglected high station and
courtly celebrity to become the wife of a poor gentleman on whom she
had no fortune to bestow, and how, when she died and left him, he had
abandoned all the paths of worldly ambition which he had opened for
himself, and retired to his small estate with her only child. Once or
twice in the year, a letter passed between your father and my mother,
for they had both loved the same person, and both mourned her as long
as they lived."
There was something so touching in her voice and manner as she told
the little tale, that Ralph, hardly knowing what he did, took her fair
hand and pressed it in his own. Lady Danvers seemed not at all
offended, and entered fully into his feelings toward his mother.
"I am sure I should love your father very much," she added, "for I
have read several of his letters--especially toward the last years of
my own parent's life--and in them he spoke in as beautiful and
touching affection of his wife and her loss as if she had not been
dead a year. I am sure I should love him."
"I think you would," replied Ralph; "though that one deep grief, which
he experienced so early, has made him very negligent of all those
graces which I am told he at one time possessed. He is now immersed in
studies, curious and abstruse, and heeds little else besides his
books."
"Well, you see," replied Lady Danvers, "I have, at all events, an
hereditary right to your friendship; and all I can say is, that if I
can promote your views in any way, Mr. Woodhall, I shall be very
happy."
"To have a right to call you friend, dear lady," replied Ralph,
warmly, "is quite enough, without taxing your kindness further. The
picture you have of my mother must be, I suppose, a copy of that which
my father possesses; and yet I should like to see it."
"Oh, no, it is no copy," answered the lady; "she sat expressly at my
mother's request, shortly after her marriage. It is very beautiful;
the face so full of love, and tenderness and self-devotion. Hers was a
noble sacrifice and I am sure, if she had possessed millions to give
as well as her hand, she would not have hesitated. I can read it in
her face."
"I am glad to hear you speak thus," replied Ralph; "the world judges
hardly of such sacrifices. Her own relations blamed and cast her off."
"The world is very foolish in its estimates," replied Lady Danvers;
"surely the best wealth, and jewels, and rank, and station are
happiness and high qualities, peace of heart and contentment. Case me
in gold, and I am no better, no happier; put me on a throne, I am no
wiser, no better contented; but give me the society of those I
love, health, and enough, and the riches of the world can add very
little--their want take very little away. I would not be the slave to
all this decoration--to the mere ornaments of the human frame or of
human life, which I see the greater number of the women of this land
become, for all that earth can give."
"Nor I either," replied Ralph; "but yet, dear lady, wealth and station
are sometimes needful, not to happiness, but to the means of attaining
that better wealth of the heart."
"Never, I should think," replied the lady. "Let us suppose a case,"
said Ralph. "Imagine that a man, in other respects not ill endowed,
but wanting in riches and in high rank, dares to fix his eyes upon
some 'bright particular star,' and hopes to win it; suppose even
that he has gained love for love, what chance has he of being made
happy--of obtaining her he loves, in short? Friends, relations,
guardians interpose, obstacles of every kind arise, which can only be
overcome by gaining that wealth and station, the want of which is the
impediment."
"Not so, not so!" replied Lady Danvers, eagerly. "Let her he loves be
nobly firm, and bold in affection. Let her do as your mother did; and,
if there be competence, there will be happiness; but really, let us
look about us. We are talking so eagerly," she said, while a warm
blush fluttered over her cheek, "that people will say we are making
love, and the duke will ask me about the gardens, and I shall be able
to tell him nothing. Then will his grace have his good joke at poor
me. However, Mr. Woodhall, whenever you like to see that picture, you
can. It is at my seat in Somersetshire, and if I am absent when you
pass that way, you have but to use my name, and the servants will show
it to you. Bid them treat you hospitably, too, for their mistress's
sake; now tell me, what is this we are coming to?"
"It is the fish-pond--illuminated, too, I see," replied Ralph; "let us
go near the edge and look in. By day one can see down to the marble
beneath. I know not whether this light is strong enough. Yes, it is;
see how those gentlemen, in their gold and silver coats, swim quietly
about, as if their watery world had no strife or contention in it.
They always look to me like the prosperous and wealthy of this earth,
who never seem to dream of all the strife, and care, and agony of body
and of mind that is going on around them."
"Not so with all the prosperous!" replied the lady, in a tone almost
reproachful; "those who are not quite so fortunate often do them an
injustice. They can not see beneath the surface, or know not how often
the heart, which has few or no sorrows of its own, bleeds for the
sorrows of others. Yet so far you are right, I believe. Prosperity may
have a tendency to harden the heart. Without feeling grief or care,
imagination can not picture it distinctly, and we are in danger of
forgetting, in our own tranquillity, the sorrows and the pangs which
are not apparent to the eye."
They continued for a moment or two gazing into the clear water without
noticing the groups that passed by. At length, however, a voice
familiar to Ralph's ear said, loud enough for him to hear, "Yes, very
lover-like, indeed! Do not disturb them."
He started; but the speaker was already going down one of the little
alleys of the wilderness.
"Did you hear that?" said Lady Danvers, looking up with a blush and a
smile; "it is time for us to go back, I think; not that I ever trouble
myself much about people's wrong constructions; but it is as well not
to give them cause for such observations."
Charming as she was, and kind, Ralph was very willing to return; but
as they went, she gave him a frank invitation to visit her, either in
London or the country, adding, with a laugh, "I have always some old
aunt or ancient cousin of the house staying with me, so as to escape
scandal, Mr. Woodhall; and remember, if I can at any time serve you,
and perhaps I may be able, all the little influence I possess may be
commanded by the son of my dear mother's friend."
Ralph thanked her warmly, eagerly; and they walked on through the mazy
walks toward the house with somewhat slower steps, perhaps, than he
would have taken had he been alone.