Mrs. Hazleton was or affected to be a good deal flustered by the event
which had just taken place, but after a number of certain graceful
attitudes, assumed without the slightest appearance of affectation,
she recovered her calmness, and proceeded with the business in hand.
That business was soon terminated, so far as the full and entire
acceptance of Mr. Marlow's proposal went, and immediately after the
conclusion of breakfast, Sir Philip Hastings ordered his horses to
depart. Mrs. Hazleton fain would have detained him, for she foresaw
that his going might be a signal for Mr. Marlow's going also, and it
was not a part of her policy to assume the matronly character so
distinctly as to invite him to remain in her house alone. Sir Philip
however was inexorable, and returned to his own dwelling, renewing his
invitation to his new acquaintance.
Mrs. Hazleton bade him adieu, with the greatest appearance of
cordiality; but I am very much afraid, if one had possessed the power
of looking into her heart, one would have a picture very different
from that presented by her face. Sir Philip Hastings had said and done
things since he had entered her dwelling the night before, which Mrs.
Hazleton was not a woman to forget or forgive. He had thwarted her
schemes, he had mortified her vanity, he had wounded her pride; and
she was one of those women who bide their time, but have a strong
tenacity of resentments.
When he was gone, however, she played a new game with Mr. Marlow. She
insisted upon his remaining for the day, but with a fine sense of
external proprieties, she informed him that she expected a charming
elderly lady of her acquaintance to pass a few days with her, to whom
she should particularly like to introduce him.
This was false, be it remarked; but she immediately took measures to
make it true. Now, there is in every neighborhood more than one of
that class called good creatures. For this office, an abundant store
of real or assumed soft stupidity is required; but it is a somewhat
difficult part to play, for with this stupidity there must also be a
considerable portion of fine tact, to guard the performer against any
of those blunders into which good-natured people are continually
plunging. Drill and discipline are also necessary, in order to be
always on the look out for hints, to appreciate them properly, to
comprehend that friends may say one thing and mean another, and to ask
no questions of any kind. There were no less than three of these good
creatures in this Mrs. Hazleton's immediate neighborhood; and during a
few moments' retreat to her own little writing-room, she laid her
finger upon her fair temple, and thought them well over. Mrs. Winifred
Edgeby was the first who suggested herself to the mind of the fair
lady. She had many of the requisites. She dressed well, talked well,
and had an air of style and fashion about her; was perfectly
innocuous, and skilful in divining the purposes and wishes of a friend
or patron; but there was an occasional touch of subacrid humor about
her which Mrs. Hazleton did not half like. It gave an impression of
seeing too clearly, of perceiving much more than she pretended to
perceive.
The second was Mrs. Warmington, a widow, not very rich, and not indeed
very refined; gay, talkative, somewhat boisterous, yet full of a sound
discretion in never committing herself or a friend. She had also much
experience, for she had been twice married, and twice a widow, and
thus had had her misfortunes. The third was a Miss Goodenough, the
most silent, quiet, stilly person in the world, moving about the house
with the step of a cat, and a face of infinite good nature to the
whole human race. She was to all appearance the pink of gentleness and
weak good nature; but her silence was invaluable.
After some consideration Mrs. Hazleton decided upon the widow, and
instantly dispatched a note with her own carriage, begging Mrs.
Warmington to come over immediately and spend a few days with her, as
a young gentleman had arrived upon a visit, and it would be indecorous
to entertain him alone.
Mrs. Warmington understood it all in an instant. She said to her. If,
"Ho, ho! a young gentleman come to stay--wanted a duenna! Matrimony in
the wind! Heigho! she must be six and thirty--six and thirty from two
and fifty leave sixteen points against me, and long odds. Well,
well,--I have had my share;" and Mrs. Warmington laughed aloud.
However, she would neither keep Mrs. Hazleton's carriage waiting, nor
Mrs. Hazleton herself in suspense, for there were various little
comforts and conveniences in the good will of that lady which Mrs.
Warmington was eager to cultivate. She had, too, a shrewd suspicion
that the enmity of Mrs. Hazleton might become a thing to be seriously
dreaded; and therefore, whichever side of the question she looked at,
she saw reasons for seeking the beautiful widow's good graces. Her
maid was called, her clothes packed up, and she entered the carriage
and drove away, while in the mean time Mrs. Hazleton had been
expatiating to Mr. Marlow upon all the high qualities and points of
excellence in her friend Mrs. Warmington. She was too skilful,
moreover, to bring her good taste and judgment into question with her
young friend, by raising expectations which might be disappointed. She
therefore threw in insinuations of a few faults and failings in dear
Madam Warmington's manner and demeanor. But then she said she was such
a good creature at heart, that although the very fastidious affected
to censure, she herself forgot all little blemishes in the inherent
excellence of the person.
Moreover, upon the plea of looking at the ground which was the subject
of Mr. Marlow's claim, she led him out for a long, pleasant ramble
through the park. She took him amongst old hawthorn trees, through
groves of chestnuts by the banks of the stream, and along paths where
the warm sunshine played through the brown and yellow leaves above,
gilding their companions which had fallen earlier than themselves to
the sward below. It was a very lover-like walk indeed--one where
nature speaks to the heart, wakening sweet influences, and charming
the spirit up from hard and cold indifference. Mrs. Hazleton felt sure
that Mr. Marlow would not forget that walk, and she took care to
impress it as deeply as possible upon his memory. Nor did she want any
of the means to do so. Her mind was highly cultivated for the age in
which she lived, her taste fine, her information extensive. She could
discourse of foreign lands, of objects and scenes of deep interest,
great beauty, and rich associations,--of courts and cities far away,
of music, painting, flowers in other lands, of climates rich in
sunshine and of genial warmth; and through the whole she had the art
to throw a sort of magic glow from her own mind which brightened all
she spoke of.
She was very charming that day, indeed, and Mr. Marlow felt the spell,
but he did not fall in love.
Now what was the object of using all these powers upon him? Was Mrs.
Hazleton a person very susceptible, or very covetous of the tender
passion? Since her return to England she had refused some half-dozen
very eligible offers from handsome, agreeable, estimable men, and the
world in general had set her down for a person as cold as a stone. It
might be so, but there are some stones, which, when you heat them,
acquire intense fervor, and retain it longer than any other substance.
Every body in the world has his peculiarities, his whims, caprices,
crochets if you will. Mrs. Hazleton had gazed over the handsome, the
glittering and the gay, with the most perfect indifference. She had
listened to professions of love with a tranquil, easy balance power,
which weighed to a grain the advantages of matrimony and widowhood,
without suffering the dust of passion to give even a shake to the
scale. Before the preceding night she had only seen Mr. Marlow once,
but the moment she set eyes upon him--the moment she heard his voice,
she had said to herself, "If ever I marry again, that is the man."
There is no explaining these sympathetic attractions, impulses, or
whatever they may be called; but I think, from some observation of
human nature, it will be found that in those persons where they are
the least frequent, they are the most powerful and persevering when
they do exist.
Not long after their first meeting, some intimation occurred
of a claim on the part of Mr. Marlow to a portion of the lady's
property--that portion that she loved best. The very idea of parting
with it at all, of being forced to give it up, was most painful and
distressing to her. Yet that made no difference whatever in her
feelings towards Mr. Marlow. Communications of various kinds took
place between lawyers, and the opposite counsel were as firm as a
rock. Mrs. Hazleton thought it very hard, very unjust, very wrong; but
that changed not in the least her feelings towards Mr. Marlow. Nay
more, with that delicate art of combination in which ladies are formed
to excel, she conceived and manipulated with great dexterity a scheme
for bringing herself and Mr. Marlow into frequent personal
communication, and for causing somebody to suggest to him a marriage
with her own beautiful self, as the best mode of settling the disputed
claim.
O those fine and delicate threads of intrigue, how frail they are, and
how much depends upon every one of them, be it in the warp or the woof
of a scheme! We have seen that in this case, one of them gave way
under the rough handling of Sir Philip Hastings, and the whole fabric
was in imminent danger of running down and becoming nothing but a
raveled skein. Mrs. Hazleton was resolved that it should not be so,
and now she was busily engaged in the attempt to knot together the
broken thread, and to lay all the others straight and in right order
again. This was the secret of the whole matter.
She exerted all her charms, and could Waller but have seen her we
should have had such an account of the artillery of her eyes, the
insidious attack of her smile, and the whole host of powerful
adversaries brought to bear against the object of her assault in her
gracefully moving form and heaving bosom, that Saccharissa would have
melted away like a wet lump of sugar in the comparison.
Then again when she had produced an effect, and saw clear and
distinctly that he thought her lovely, and very charming too, she
seemed to fall into a pleasant sort of languid melancholy, which was
even more charming still. The brook was bubbling and murmuring at
their feet, dashing clear and bright over its stony bed, and changing
the brown rock, the water weed, or the leaf beneath, into gems by the
magic of its own brightness. The boughs were waving over head, covered
with many-colored foliage, and the sun, glancing through, not only
enriched the tints above, but checkered the mossy path along which
they wandered like a chess-board of brown and gold. Some of the late
autumn birds uttered their short sweet songs from the copse hard by,
and the musical wind came sighing up from the valley, as if nature had
furnished Eolus with a harp. It was in short quite a scene, and a
moment for a widow to make love to a young man. They were silent for
some little time, and then Mrs. Hazleton said, with her soft, sweet,
round voice, "Is not all this very charming, Mr. Marlow?"
Her tone was quite a sad one, but not with that sort of pleasant
sadness which often mingles with our happiest moments, giving them
even a higher zest, like the flattened notes when a fine piece of
music passes gently from the major into the minor key, but really sad,
profoundly sad.
"Very charming, indeed," replied her young companion, looking round to
her face with some surprise.
"And what am I to do without it, when you turn me out of my house!"
said the lady, answering his glance with a melancholy smile.
"Turn you out of your house!" exclaimed Mr. Marlow; "I hope you do not
suppose, my dear madam, that I could dream of such a thing. Oh, no! I
would not for the world deprive such a scene of its brightest
ornament. Some arrangement can be easily effected, even if my claim
should prove satisfactory to those you appoint to investigate it, by
which the neighborhood will not be deprived of the happiness of your
presence."
Mrs. Hazleton felt that she had made a great step, and as she well
knew that there was no chance of his proposing then and there, she
resolved not to risk losing ground by any farther advance, even while
she secured some present benefits from that which was gained. "Well,
well," she said, "Mr. Marlow, I am quite sure you are very kind and
very generous, and we can talk of that matter hereafter. Only there is
one thing you must promise me, which is, that in regard to any
arrangements respecting the house you will not leave them to be
settled by cold lawyers or colder friends, who cannot enter into my
feelings in regard to this place, or your own liberal and kindly
feelings either. Let us settle it some day between ourselves," she
added, with a light laugh, "in a tête-à-tête like this. I do not
suppose you are afraid of being overreached by me in a bargain. But
now let us turn our steps back towards the house, for I expect Mrs.
Warmington early, and I must not be absent when she arrives."
Mrs. Warmington was there already; for the tête-à-tête had lasted
longer than Mrs. Hazleton knew. However, Mrs. Hazleton's first task
was to inform her fair friend and counsellor of the cause of Mr.
Marlow's being there; her next to tell her that all had been settled
as to the claim, by that tiresome man Sir Philip Hastings, without
what she considered due deliberation, and that the only thing which
remained to be arranged was in regard to the house, respecting which
Mrs. Hazleton communicated a certain portion of her own inclinations,
and of Mr. Marlow's kind view of the matter.
Now, strange to say, this was the turning point of fate for Mrs.
Hazleton, Mr. Marlow, and most of the persons mentioned in this
history. It was then that Mrs. Warmington suggested a scheme which she
thought would suit her friend well.
"Why do you not offer him in exchange--for the time at all
events--your fine old house on the side of Hartwell--Hartwell Place?
It is only seven miles off. It is ready furnished to his hand, and
must be worth a great deal more than the bare walls of this. Besides
it would be pleasant to have him in the neighborhood."
Pause, Mrs. Hazleton! pause and meditate over all the consequences;
for be assured much depends upon these few simple words.
Mrs. Hazleton did pause--Mrs. Hazleton did meditate. She ran over in
her head the list of all the families in the neighborhood. In none of
them could she see a probable rival. There were plenty of married
women, old maids, young girls; but she saw nobody to fear, and with a
proud consciousness of her own beauty and worth; she took her
resolution. That very evening she proposed to Mr. Marlow what her
friend had suggested. It was accepted.
Mrs. Hazleton had made one miscalculation, and her fate and Mr.
Marlow's were decided.