A VISIT TO THE NEW-MADE MINISTER'S WIFE.
When Lord Albert had sent his note of inquiry to Lady Adeline Seymour,
he proceeded to Downing-street to meet Lord Glenmore, there to enter
on his official duties; and, notwithstanding the agitation of his mind
on other subjects, he went prepared to commence his new career with
that glow of ardour, which, when tempered by prudence, is so conducive
to honourable success. The reports which had so strongly prevailed for
the last two days in the great world, of Lord Glenmore's appointment
in the ministry, and of Lord Albert D'Esterre's being joined with him
in the office which he had accepted, were now confirmed by a public
announcement of the changes that had taken place.
Of course there were different opinions as to the eligibility of the
measures resorted to, as there always are in similar cases; but which
were, for the most part, formed according to the interests and wishes
of opposing parties, without any real feeling or care for the public
welfare: but, fortunately for the well-being of that public, there
are higher powers over-ruling the petty engines of mortal government,
and even the evil passions of mankind are sometimes made subservient
to the ways of Providence. Henry the Eighth, when he threw off the
papal yoke, and became an instrument of mighty and effective operation
in the religious and moral destinies of Britain, thought little of
any other end than that of securing his own illicit and ambitious
projects; but in his day and generation he was the appointed means to
bring about that invaluable constitution, which, resting on a firmer
basis than mere worldly wisdom could devise, we may be confident will
always have able defenders raised up for its support--whether they be
those who pursue worldly ends alone, and entertain no other dream in
their philosophy, or whether some hand of conscientious and religious
principle guide the helm: not that the choice of persons can therefore
be indifferent, for human means are still to be employed for human
measures; only that in this circumstance, as in all others, there
remains a point of confiding refuge to flee to, even when the political
horizon appears to good men overcast.
At the present season, when difficulties of an almost insurmountable
nature seemed to gather round the minister, and to impede the easy
course of government, the accession of such a man as Lord Glenmore,
whose character stood too high for any suspicion to attach to his
integrity, and whose situation was too independent to admit the surmise
of his being influenced by motives of personal interest, was a matter
of the last importance: the same might in a degree be said of Lord
Albert D'Esterre, with the exception that he was younger, and that this
was his first step in the career of his public life.
To Lady Tilney and her political friends, the recent changes were
certainly any thing but agreeable; for, so long as Lord Glenmore
remained unconnected with party, she considered that he was yet to
be gained over to that whose interests she espoused: and Lord Albert
D'Esterre having likewise taken the same course, was an additional
cause of regret to her; for she had looked upon him as a much
easier prize than the other, and one of nearly equivalent value. It
was therefore with unqualified disappointment that she heard the
confirmation of those fears which the current whisper of the preceding
days had not prepared her to receive with calmness.
On Lady Hamlet Vernon, this circumstance acted with a different
effect. When she heard the intelligence of the changes in the
ministry confirmed, she considered it as an additional circumstance
of self-congratulation, superadded to those which had arisen from the
occurrence at the Opera and her conversation with Mr. Foley. Lady
Hamlet Vernon, though ambitious, was a person attached to no party; and
though the love of power was predominant in her nature, it was for the
sake of its own exercise, without any reference to any political side
of the question: she only saw, therefore, in Lord Albert's appointment,
the first step towards a career which would involve him at once in
absorbing interests, and leave his mind more easy to be diverted into
a channel in accordance with her wishes, and more likely to be drawn
off from that attachment which was destructive of them. She thought
too, and with some probability, that it was a measure which would be
discordant with Lady Adeline's views of private happiness, and might
possibly therefore influence the fulfilment of the engagement between
her and Lord Albert D'Esterre.
Whilst the parties in question took these two opposite views of the
business, there was a third who deplored it in all sincerity of heart,
and already sickened under the idea of the protracted absences, and
the bustle of the public career, in which she was alternately either to
be the sufferer, or be called upon to share: with the sense, however,
of submission due in a wife to the interests and views of her husband,
she prepared to receive the congratulations of her friends, and to
fulfil the duties which she foresaw must attend on her situation, with
as much cheerfulness and alacrity as she could command.
Lord Glenmore having told her that concealment was no longer necessary
respecting the arrangements now finally adjusted, he bade her in
the course of the day acquaint her family with the event; and, on
his leaving her, she immediately communicated the intelligence to
her parents. The first to congratulate her was Lord Melcombe, who
considered the matter as a piece of good fortune, and rejoiced in this
addition to his child's happiness. While offering his fond wishes for
Lord Glenmore's success, he added, with a smile;
"I think, Georgina, he ought to be satisfied with your first _coup
d'essai_ in diplomacy, for you almost persuaded me yesterday that this
event was quite as improbable as my own appointment to office."
In the course of the day a host of friends--for what persons in power
ever lacked these?--called to pay their compliments to the wife of the
newly-created minister: some came from curiosity, some in sincerity,
some with envious feelings, and some with views of interest. Among
those of the latter class may be enumerated the Leinsengens, the
Tenderdens, and the Tilneys, with smiles on their lips and detraction
in their hearts; the one not believing Lady Glenmore's indifference
to her situation to be real, and the other two, who knew her better,
despising her for her childish folly.
"Well, my dear," said the Comtesse Leinsengen, entering her apartment
like a figure made of clock-work, that glides into the room on a stand,
"let me see how you do look under this _changement de decoration_;
just the same, I declare! _est il bien possible_?" Staring at her,
"_Tout cela ne vous fait ni froid ni chaud_--dat is _impossible_. _Au
reste_--you seem de very ting for your _poste, et je vous en fait mon
compliment_; for you will never be at a loss to know vat countenance
_tenir_, as yours does not undergo any change." The beautiful colour
which tinged Lady Glenmore's cheek at this speech proved the contrary,
as she replied;
"You are mistaken, Comtesse; there are many things which would affect
me in a lively manner; and indeed the present subject of your
congratulations is far from indifferent to me; but----."
"_Allons donc, une confidence_; at last we shall know what you do or do
not care for," interrupted the Comtesse Leinsengen.
"As far as that confidence goes, certainly. I do not care, for
instance, in the least, either for power or place, in as far as regards
myself, and I prefer a quiet country life to that of London; but as my
husband has considered it right to take this step, I must teach myself
to like it too." The announcement of Lady Tenderden and Lady Tilney
interrupted this uncongenial _tête-à-tête_; and the latter, to hide her
chagrin and disappointment under an apparent friendly zeal, flew up
to Lady Glenmore in her most energetic manner, and assured her, that
although she could never agree with Lord Glenmore in politics, yet from
personal regard she sincerely wished him joy of his public success,
and hoped, that now he had the ball at his foot, he would use it to a
good purpose. "It is one thing to be at the bottom of the ladder, and
another upon it," she added; "and perhaps we may see Lord Glenmore
doing as so many others have done before now, looking down on his old
prejudices and mistakes, and taking up quite a different view of the
subject."
Lady Glenmore was silent, but received Lady Tilney's expressions
of kindness with her usual sweetness and courtesy of manner. Lady
Tenderden joined in the congratulation.
"At length, my sweet lady," she said, "you are enthroned, and we all
come to do you homage. But how very discreet you were; never betrayed
by word, look, or gesture, the secret which you were quite sure of; you
are really cut out for the part you have to play. I envy you _votre
petite air moue et doucereux_; don't you, Lady Tilney?"
"Nothing can be better," she replied; "I prophesy that she will play
her part well."
"You are all exceedingly obliging," Lady Glenmore replied, "but I have
no part to play. My husband, being in the ministry, luckily does not
impose any duty upon me, besides that of living more in the world than
I might otherwise do."
"Poor lady, I pity you!" said Lady Tenderden ironically.
"You will change your ideas, I foresee that," said Lady Tilney
prophetically.
"You will remain just vat you are," said the Comtesse Leinsengen
impertinently, when the door opened, and the Duke of Mercington entered.
"I beg you to receive my warmest congratulation, my dear Lady
Glenmore," he said, approaching her in his most _empressé_ manner, as
if his whole heart was in his words, and bowing to the other ladies
slightly as he passed them. "I give you and Glenmore joy alike; him
that he has gained his wish, and you in the consciousness that he has
done so; for I know that your happiness must be _mutual_ to render it
really happiness."
"Oh, duke, I assure you all your compliments are trown away upon dat
ladi, on dat subject at least, for she declare not to like to be a
minister's wife at all."
"Impossible! she is joking," replied the duke, looking at Lady Glenmore
with one of those apparently ingenuous smiles which habit had forced
upon his features, and which once were captivating so long as they
_were_ natural; "impossible that you who were formed to shine in
society should shrink from a situation for which you are so singularly
well adapted."
"You are too good, duke, and I accept your flattering judgment upon
_credit_, for I have not been tried yet, and I _may_ disappoint you."
"Oh never, we all know how charming you are; don't we, Lady Tilney?"
"Yes, duke, you know we all bow to your judgment in every thing,
and I am sure we shall not begin to differ on _this_ point," she
replied, with an air of pique that was ill concealed under an affected
_bonhommie_.
"We are not come here," said the Leinsengen, whispering to Lady
Tenderden, "to listen to all his _fadaises_; _c'est le radotage_
dat we have been used to hear uttered by turns to every object of a
fresh _engouement_ for these last ten years." Then gliding up to Lady
Glenmore, she added, "I am quite charmed to see you _en des mains si
sures_, persons who vill give you such excellent advice; and now dat I
have rendered you _mes hommages_, I make _mes adieus_. Monsieur le duc,
I hope to see you at my next _levée_; Lady Glenmore of course; Lady
Tilney, _au revoir_." And then, when she reached the door, "_Ah ça_,
by de way, vill you, Lady Tenderden, go vid me to-night to _le théàtre
Français_?"
"I should be delighted, but I am engaged to Lady Glenmore. Is not this
our evening?" turning to the latter.
"Yes; but I beg you will not consider that binding."
"Oh but I do, though, so _you must go with me_."
"Of course," said the Comtesse Leinsengen contemptuously, "I am
extremely sorry, _mais il faut se consoler_;" and turning, she glided
away, but first whispered to Lady Tilney as she passed, "We shall have
nothing now but this tiresome _petite nouveauté_;" and she shrugged her
shoulders and departed.
"What is the matter with the comtesse?" asked the Duke of Mercington;
"that _air d'imperatrice enragée_ does not at all become her."
"No," replied Lady Glenmore, laughing, "I never knew any one that it
did."
"Some persons," rejoined the duke, "some dark beauties, may look well
under the effect of a storm, though I confess I had always rather see
the lambent flame than the forked lightning;" and he looked his implied
admiration of Lady Glenmore.
Lady Tilney did not know exactly what part to play in a scene where she
felt she was not the principal, although it is said there have been
times and seasons when she thought it politic to kiss _even the foot
of a person_ placed in a situation of imaginary greatness, and whose
favour she forgot herself so far as to court. She had come, however,
to Lady Glenmore with other views than either those of curiosity or
congratulation. Lady Tilney felt, that in the situation which Lady
Glenmore now held, she might with ease have led a party in society
independent of Lady Tilney or any of her coterie; and a fear that she
might take this step determined her on endeavouring, by counsel and an
assumption of directing how Lady Glenmore should conduct herself in her
station, to obtain in the first instance an influence over her, and
hold her in subserviency to her own wishes regarding society. She saw,
therefore, the Duke of Mercington and several others, who had come and
gone on the same errand, take their leave with satisfaction, and seized
the first moment when she was alone with Lady Glenmore to say:
"Now, my dear Lady Glenmore, you, I am sure, will believe, that of all
who have paid their court to you on this happy event, there is no one
more sincere than myself: but I will go a step further than any other
of your friends, though perhaps I may be giving you offence; I would
counsel, I would advise you; for yours, my dear Lady Glenmore, you will
find to be a situation of some delicacy: there will be so many ready
to take offence if you do not do all they ask or expect of you; and
yet, you know, you must not _compromettez_ yourself, nor our society;
you must, in short, be discreet, and not _too good-humoured_. It will
require great tact to please those whom I am sure you wish to please,
and to give offence to none. Now Glenmore will be constantly engaged,
and you cannot expect him to give due attention to these _affaires de
société_. I really wish, that if ever you feel in any difficulty, you
would consider me as your friend, always ready to serve you; apply
to me, and I will give you my best advice: there are many, I know,
who will be ready to do the same thing by you, but beware of those in
whom you repose confidence. For instance, between ourselves, there is
the Comtesse Leinsengen, who is very charming, very clever, but not
sufficiently aware _how our_ society must be constituted, as indeed
no foreigners possibly can or ever will be, and not at all capable of
guiding intricate points connected with it: and then, you know, she is
_diplomate_ by nature and art; she will of course endeavour to win you
to an intimacy. At least, _c'est son metiér_. But again, I say, beware
of this, or you will compromise Lord Glenmore as well as yourself.
Against Lady Tenderden, too, though there is nobody I like better, you
must also be upon your guard; for she is not altogether to be trusted,
and she will betray your secrets from habit."
Lady Glenmore, who had, hitherto, listened to this long harangue in
silence, and without showing any emotion, now looked a little surprised
at this last caution given by Lady Tilney, for she remembered the
opinion her husband had pronounced on Lady Tenderden; but still she
said nothing. The expression, however, which played in her countenance,
was not unobserved by Lady Tilney, as she added, "Oh, I know what _you_
are thinking; Lady Tenderden _is_ a great favourite with Lord Glenmore;
but it's an old friendship, and now he is married, of course all that
will be on another footing."
Lady Glenmore blushed, and felt the tears rising to her eyes, at the
renewal of an insinuation respecting her husband, which had once
before cost her much acute pain. Lady Tilney did not choose to observe
the effect which she saw her words had produced on the innocent Lady
Glenmore, and proceeded to object, in rotation, to every one whom she
thought might become powerful rivals in her influence over her. Then,
having proceeded to discuss every point political and influential
in society, and having persuaded Lady Glenmore to fix an early day
for a _cercle choisie_ at her house, and canvassed the pretensions of
the persons who were to be allowed to form it, she at length took her
departure, leaving Lady Glenmore perfectly overcome with the torrent of
eloquence and advice which she had so gratuitously given.
While these empty insincerities, these crooked policies of polite life,
had been passing under Lady Glenmore's roof, and while Lord Albert
D'Esterre was busied in the graver but perhaps not less intricate and
deceptive details of _public_ affairs, the realities of whose endless
mazes he had that morning for the first time entered upon, Lady
Dunmelraise, in a far different scene, and on a far other occasion, was
preparing for one of the most painful tasks that duty demands of true
affection; that of probing the breast of a beloved object, with the
moral certainty of its being right so to do, in the hope of protecting
it from yet more cruel wounds. These are the heroisms of private life,
which pass unknown and unhonoured by the world, although they are
noted elsewhere, and are of frequent occurrence in the annals of daily
existence; and it was under the pressure of this painful determination
that Lady Dunmelraise passed a sleepless night, endeavouring to prepare
herself for to-morrow's duty.
When she met her daughter at breakfast, her pale and altered
countenance half spoke the nature of her intended counsel before
she gave it utterance. Lady Adeline's own feelings were too much in
accordance with her mother's, for her not to read the cause of the
expression she saw painted on her face; and although she had forced
herself to leave her apartment, and to appear at the usual hour, and
even endeavoured to wear her own placid smile, in order not to give
Lady Dunmelraise unnecessary anxiety, still the very endeavour betrayed
the real state of her heart. The business of the breakfast passed
mechanically and in silence, with the exception of an interchange of
those few kindly monosyllables which convinced them mutually of the
participation each took in the other's anguish; and while Lady Adeline
was trying to suppress starting tears, Lady Dunmelraise determined to
break this cruel silence, and without preamble to come at once to the
subject.
"My dearest Adeline, I need not tell you, love, that I feel with you
the sorrow and mortification of the occurrence of yesterday evening;
and it has come with double force on me, seeing the anguish it has
brought upon you. However much I may have been prepared for it by what
I have observed in Lord Albert's altered manner, yet I confess I am
surprised at the want of openness in his conduct, a want with which
I never should have thought he could have been charged. Love, it is
true, is easily directed into a new channel, unless religious principle
confirm it in its original course; but even where there is no sin,
according to the world's acceptation of sin in such change, still, from
the opinion I have hitherto entertained of his natural disposition,
I thought he would, with that ingenuousness of character for which I
have given him unbounded credit, have at least confessed the truth
openly; a line of conduct which, had he adopted, I am confident that,
however heavily the avowal might have fallen on your heart, there
would yet have remained a consolation in thinking that he was still
worthy of your esteem, and then an honest pride of the consciousness of
self-desert would have come in aid to sustain you to bear up against
desertion. I begin, however, to fear that esteem can have no part in
our sentiment towards him; for why should concealment be necessary,
if, at least, the cause of his estrangement from us were worthy of
himself?" Lady Adeline covered her face with her hands, as she rested
her arms on the table before her, and her tears trickled through her
delicate fingers, but she could not speak. "Calm yourself, my dearest
Adeline; for my sake, for your own sake, for resignation's sake, bear
up under this heavy affliction: it is a sore and early trial for you, I
well know; but if rightly entertained, it will bring its blessing with
it, as all our trials do. I do not mean to pretend that you are not to
suffer, or give a cold unfeeling philosophy to still the throbbings of
a young wounded heart; but I would lead you to sources of consolation,
which, although they may seem harsh and bitter at first, will in time,
and with God's blessing, have a beneficial effect."
"I know," replied Lady Adeline, making an effort to speak, "I know,
dearest mamma, that all you say is meant in love, and is balm to me,
but these tears, these sobs, must have their course."
Lady Dunmelraise replied to this natural appeal with answering tears;
and having first regained composure, she went on to say:
"Think for a moment, my best child, how hopeless, how truly wretched,
would have been your situation, had you, when united to Lord Albert,
discovered, when it was too late, that his affections were not
entirely yours; and that he had, on his part, either from motives of
false delicacy, or, from what was still worse, a desire to possess your
fortune, persisted in fulfilling an engagement in which his heart at
best had a divided interest;--think, dearest, what would have been your
feelings in _such_ a case, and how mercifully you are dealt by in the
present suffering, in comparison of the irremediable sorrow which would
then have been your portion!
"I need not now recall to your mind what I said on Lord Albert's
apparently altered state of feelings on our arrival in town. You, I am
certain, saw the change as well as myself, and felt it,--how deeply,
I hardly can bear to think; though we both seemed tacitly to agree,
that it would be better to await the result, than precipitate it by
any premature remarks, either to himself, or between each other.
And indeed this conduct, in a great measure, it is still my opinion
should be preserved; only, in as far as regards ourselves, my dearest
child, neither my sense of duty, nor my sense of sorrow, will permit
of longer silence on a subject which, I grieve to confess, judging by
appearances, is already settled; and it is with a view to prepare you
for such an issue, rather than to direct you to show any alteration
in your conduct towards Lord Albert, that I have thus spoken: when I
say show _no_ alteration, it is impossible that that advice could be
literally followed, after having seen a person avowedly under the most
sacred engagement to yourself pass the entire evening in the society
of another, whose general character will not authorize the supposition
that such attentions were without an especial object, and that too on a
day on which he had pleaded important business as his excuse for your
not seeing him; but what I mean by your showing no alteration of manner
towards him is, that neither our opinions nor our decisions should be
made known to him in this stage of the business."
Lady Adeline had now mastered herself sufficiently to listen with
calmness to all her mother said; and she had drawn a seat near her, and
held Lady Dunmelraise's hand tenderly in hers, replying by a gentle
pressure to the sentiments she uttered: and now, when she could again
give her thoughts utterance, she said:
"Speak on, dearest mamma, for even my rebel heart is soothed by
listening to your gentle voice."
Lady Dunmelraise continued, "There are many reasons, you see, love, for
this line of conduct:--
"In the first place, we have only, my sweet child, our own observations
and surmises to guide us; and although these, I grant, are strong,"
(Lady Adeline sighed heavily in answer to this remark) "yet to act upon
them would look like forcing Lord Albert to an immediate decision,
a step unwise, and unworthy of us, and whichever way it ended would
leave a doubt whether the decision were entirely from his heart or
not. Besides, as yet he may have erred, and perhaps become penitent;
if so, his own spontaneous confession alone could be a surety for
his sincerity. Then too, my love, I must also remind you, that by
nothing do a young woman's prospects suffer so much, on her first
entry into life, as by becoming the object of the world's observation
and idle talk, especially on the subject of a disappointment in love
or marriage. All that the generality of the world know at present,
concerning the existing engagement between yourself and Lord Albert,
is, that your dear father and his parents having considered that you
were by birth, fortune, and apparently by disposition when children,
united to each other; should you grow up, mutually entertaining the
same affection which you then evinced, that in such a case your union
would be a matter of congratulation to the families of both parties.
In short, it was one of those alliances that are often talked of
amongst children seemingly adapted to each other, but to be finally
dissolved or fulfilled, as circumstances should hereafter decide.
"How far your own affections have become bound up in this engagement,
or how far Lord Albert has proved himself worthy or not of the intended
union, is hitherto a matter wholly unknown, and uncared for, by the
world at large: but now, however, that you are in the scene of London,
young, new, and with various extraneous advantages to excite envy,
if the affair were made a topic of discussion, the ill-natured part
of the community will be too glad to seize upon any _esclandre_ that
might answer them for a nine days' novelty; and such a hazard, your own
delicacy will point out to you, is therefore carefully to be avoided.
Till lately, the happy termination of our wishes had seemed probable,
and you, dearest child, have, I fear, given way to the belief that it
was impossible it should fail: but, however painful it may be to us
both, in the several relations in which we stand implicated in this
business, it is, you will allow, some satisfaction to think, that the
sacredness of these feelings will not necessarily be broken in upon by
a vulgar prying public; and that, in short, the world need know no
more of the matter than what I have already stated.
"We have only, therefore, as I before remarked, to await the period
when decision must of course be made; that will be when we are in
the country, and when we shall escape all the unpleasant remarks
which would take place were we actually on the scene. Let me hope
also, dearest Adeline, that your eyes being self-opened to the
disappointment, you will know where to seek for succour against
yourself, and which alone can enable you to bear the blow, come when it
may."
"Indeed, dearest mamma," said Lady Adeline, with that under tone of
voice that seems to fear its own sound, "whatever pain I endure, I
perfectly agree with you in all you have said, and implicitly yield to
your counsel; not only because it is my duty and interest to do so, but
because I see the matter exactly in the same light. Oh, I could have
borne all, had Albert only been more open and honest with me: but why
was he so cruel as to deceive me? why was he so tenderly affectionate
to me at Dunmelraise, after his return from abroad? why did he write to
me so kindly? why has he, since we have been in London even, made such
constant allusions to past and future happiness? Why all this, and
then so suddenly and cruelly neglect me for another? for I am sure he
does love another; mamma, do you not think he does?"
"Alas! what comfort can I give you? You have seen with your own eyes,
and I must refer you, love, to your own feelings; who can so well tell
all things as they?"
"But, dearest mamma, do you not think, that if he really did love
another he would have told me so?"
"Why, dearest, it is difficult to reply to that question. Albert's good
feelings and principles could not be overthrown at once. It is never
thus. In a vicious career, people become unprincipled and hardened by
degrees. He may have found his heart estranged from you, and yet in the
first instance have been ashamed to own it, even to himself. The first
step to evil is the _deceitfulness_ of sin: with how many subterfuges
does it not conceal its true nature: it blinds the eyes, lest, looking
upon its native deformity, it should terrify its victim. There is
nothing so likely to have this fatal tendency, as the constant society
and intercourse with persons whose conduct, if not licentious (though I
fear too many of them deserve that epithet), is yet not guided by any
fixed or determined principle of action; whose lives at best are spent
from day to day without any serious thought, and without regard to any
thing but selfish indulgence. Albert has great influence, and there may
be more reasons than one why the party with whom he seems at present to
associate should wish to entangle him. I augured ill of his happiness
from the moment I heard of the circle in which he lived; and it came
to me with as much surprise as sorrow, for I never could have thought
to find one of his dispositions and habits (setting aside principle)
making such a choice of society. This it is which leads me to suppose
that some stronger power of evil than a mere love of idle pleasure has
lured him into the danger. But let this be your greatest comfort, that
you are not his wife, and are not to be thrown among persons of such
a stamp as his present associates; for whatever worldly advantages
they may possess, I should tremble for you, my dear child, were you
cast into a situation of such imminent peril to reason and to virtue.
A woman, to a certain extent, must mingle with the associates of her
husband; and such as these are, so in time must become, likewise, her
own character: for however incongruous they may be to her tastes and
feelings at first, yet if she is young, inexperienced, and pliant, the
brilliancy and polish of their exterior, and their whole attractions,
must dazzle and mislead her better judgment; and from the idea alone of
pleasing her husband, in as far as virtue and religion do not seem to
forbid it, she will conform herself to the habits and manners of those
around her, not being aware how these re-act again upon the general
tone of her own character."
"But perhaps," said Lady Adeline timidly, and while a feverish flush of
hope and tenderness deepened in her cheek, "perhaps, were I his wife, I
might reclaim----."
"Ah, dearest child," interrupted Lady Dunmelraise, "never hazard
evil that good may come of it; never rely upon such a precarious
contingency, nor upon your own strength; seek not temptation,--that is
presumptuous. Were you indeed his wife--as there is every reason at
present to be thankful you are not--then would have come the duty of
_that_ trial; but now another is appointed you, my love. Let us take
what is, and think only of that. We must not wilfully rush into danger,
to indulge selfish gratification."
Lady Adeline threw herself into her mother's arms, and wept
unrestrainedly. "My dearest child, it has been a painful task to me to
give you pain. Soothe this anguish, I beseech you, and assist me in
the performance of what I feel is my duty, by regaining as much command
over yourself as you possibly can."
While Lady Dunmelraise was yet speaking, a servant brought in a note
addressed to Lady Dunmelraise: it was from Lord Albert. She opened,
and having read it, gave it to Lady Adeline, who had known by its
very twist who it came from, and was in breathless anxiety to see its
contents.
"It is worded kindly," said Lady Dunmelraise, "but he could not do
otherwise; and at the same time, I dare say, he felt much awkwardness,
and did not know how to come in person. I shall answer it, my love, in
the same spirit of gentleness; merely saying you are quite recovered,
only suffering the remains of languor after the sickness produced by
the heat of the Opera last night. And if Lord Albert should call in the
course of the day, do, I entreat you, betray no unusual symptoms of
agitation."
Lady Adeline, with an aching head and still sobbing breath, promised
acquiescence; and in despite of herself, a ray of hope seemed to
emanate from the note, which cheered her, she scarce knew why, and
enabled her to suppress her emotion. Then retiring to her own chamber,
she there sought in prayer that strength and resignation which she knew
no earthly comforter could bestow on her.
After the exhaustion of spirits which this conversation with her
daughter had produced, Lady Dunmelraise felt the promised visit of
her sister would be a cordial to her; nor did she wait long ere Lady
Delamere came. As soon as the latter was made acquainted with what had
passed, she said, "Dear Adeline! I expected this from her; yet her
behaviour is super-eminently amiable on this occasion, and must reward
you for all your sorrows. I perfectly agree with you on the policy of
the line of conduct you are to adopt with Lord Albert; and in pursuance
of this, should you not call upon the Tresyllians? You know they are
arrived."
"Certainly I will; for although my health has for many years precluded
my mixing with the world, and exonerated me from all visiting, I shall
forego my general rule, and call on them without delay."
"Come with me now," said Lady Delamere; "my carriage is at the door,
and I will bring you home again." To this proposal the sisters agreed,
and they departed together. The Tresyllians were not at home, and
Lady Dunmelraise felt glad to escape the meeting. On her return, she
learnt from Adeline, whom she found admirably serene and composed,
though pale, and with her eyes swollen with weeping, that Lord Albert
had not been there. The fact was, that the latter had been in reality
occupied the whole day; and it was only on his return to his house,
late in the afternoon, that he received Lady Dunmelraise's answer to
his note, his mind having been as it were forcibly taken off from
the subject nearest to his heart. He had profited by that wholesome
constraint which the occupations of men afford them, and prevents that
musing of the tenderer feelings which enervates and unfits for useful
exertion. Something like reason, and the distinct perception of things
which it never fails to bring in its train, had consequently resumed a
sway over him; and, when this was the case, his heart could not avoid
turning to the object of its first pure and honourable affection with
that ineffable sweetness of sensation that attends on innocent and
happy love. Then, half forgetting, half scorning, the suspicions he
had entertained, and which the scene of the preceding evening had but
too plausibly confirmed, he determined to call in South Audley-street
to see Lady Dunmelraise at least, if not Adeline; and as he walked
along, absorbed in mingled feelings that made him insensible to all the
noise and bustle of the busy crowd he passed through, he found himself
quickly at the door: his hand was on the knocker, when a cabriolet
drove up, and out of it stepped Mr. Foley.
All Lord Albert's philosophy was overthrown by this incident; all
his love for and trust in Lady Adeline was destroyed; and his first
impulse was to leave a house in which he conceived he had no longer any
interest in seeking its inhabitants. But, the next moment, his better
judgment, if not his pride in not seeming to yield to a successful
rival, determined him to fulfil his first intention; and making rather
a cold and haughty return to Mr. Foley's salutation, they both entered
the door together.