THE PRESENTATION AT COURT.
The day at length arrived, to which so many had looked forward with
lingering expectation, and which, to the young in general, was one
of delightful anticipation. Among these, however, there was one who,
though both young and beauteous, and likely, under other circumstances,
to have enjoyed the idea of coming out into the dazzling scene of the
world, remained unmoved by the general festivity, from a dread of the
trial which the scene would probably bring to her feelings.
Lady Delamere had communicated to Lady Dunmelraise the circumstance
of her having seen Lord Albert D'Esterre the preceding evening at
Almack's, and of his being engrossed the whole time with Lady Hamlet
Vernon;--intelligence naturally productive of the most painful
conclusions, and which, of course, received considerable aggravation
in Lady Dunmelraise's mind from the excuses made by Lord Albert for
not dining in South Audley-street on that day. She however felt
that, although most painful, it was right to inform Adeline of this
fresh instance of Lord Albert's unfeeling conduct, in order that she
might, by so doing, lead her more and more to wean her affections from
a person so unworthy as he now appeared to be, and help to destroy
the remaining hopes which her daughter might otherwise retain of his
returning affection.
Lady Adeline might well have thought that she had been prepared for the
worst, and imagined that her cup of sorrow was filled to the brim; but
at this additional circumstance she felt, that the human heart is never
so full of bitterness, but that there may be added some drops of gall.
Her usual serenity, however, did not wholly forsake her; but her first
impulse was to entreat her mother to spare her the trial of attending
the drawing-room.
"I wish," she said, "to be suffered to gain strength in retirement,
and to seek for resignation, where you, my dearest mamma, have ever
taught me it can alone be found. Some day or other," though she did not
believe what she was saying, "some day or other, I dare say, I shall be
quite happy again; only _now_"----But at that moment the _quite happy_
were words too much in contrast to the _quite wretched_ at her heart,
for her lips to be able to pronounce, and in a passion of tears her
feelings found relief.
Lady Dunmelraise suffered them to flow unimpeded, and when she regained
composure, said, "My dearest child, I insist on nothing to which you
think yourself unable; but if you _can_ make the exertion, do so, for
my sake and your own. Reflect on the humbled feelings of your mother
and of yourself, if Lord Albert should ever know into what a depth of
sorrow and humiliation he has plunged us both."
"Mamma, mamma, he must know that; for does he not know, has he not
seen, have I not shown him a thousand times how very dear he is to
me? and, after all, what should I be, if I were not humiliated by his
desertion?"
"Most true, dearest, in heart; but there is a prudence and decorum to
be preserved in outward seeming; a respect due to ourselves, in not
displaying our feelings to the unfeeling world, who only trample upon
them with unheeding carelessness, and can never appreciate their depth
or value. I can well understand, my dear child, that you will be making
an heroic effort, by going into public under the present suffering
state of your heart; but I do ask of you to make that effort; for
I know, by experience, that there is much _real_ power gained over
ourselves by assuming its _appearance_."
This conversation ended by Lady Adeline's promising to do every thing
her mother wished for her dear sake, whom she loved with more than
filial affection; and, having once given this promise, she determined
to fulfil it nobly. The satisfaction which follows any sacrifice of
selfish feelings to the wishes of those whom it is our duty to please
is never-failing, and, under every circumstance, affords a peace
which can never be obtained by their indulgence to the dereliction of
principle.
But, notwithstanding all Lady Adeline's amiable qualities, and all the
estimable motives of her conduct, she could not avoid the natural pangs
of sorrow and anxiety, which she, in common with every human being, is
doomed to experience. Come they must in some shape or other to all;
happiest are those who entertain them wisely. The whole of that day, an
ebb and flow of dread and doubt passed over her in alternate tides of
hope or despondence;--of doubt, if Lord Albert would again call,--of
dread, lest, if he did call, she should betray herself to him; yet of
hope, that he might put this trial to the test,--and of despondence,
as the hours passed away and no Lord Albert appeared.
Fortunately, before we are tired of sorrow, sorrow tires us, so that
wearied nature finds refuge in sleep despite of itself; and this was
the case of Lady Adeline, whose eyes, while yet full of tears, were
closed in slumber: but it is the wakening again which is the trial;
then we seem to have derived fresh power to suffer, and the sad vision
of grief is presented to us with renewed vitality. Such were Lady
Adeline's feelings when her maid brought to her bedside the attire and
the ornaments with which she was that day to be adorned, in order to
enter upon a scene of pleasure which to most young hearts is attended
with so many fascinations.
"Take them all away, Mourtray," she said, "take them all away; it is
not time to dress yet." And when the time did come, how many painful
recollections marred every thought of pleasure! Should she see Lord
Albert in the crowd? was the first question she asked herself; and if
she did see him, how would he behave to her? how should she behave to
him? If he were unoccupied by any one at the moment, and apparently
disengaged from any interesting conversation, she thought she could
go through the scene; but if he were talking to one whose name was
now too well known to her, and too closely allied with the cause of
her misery, she feared that neither the time nor the place would be
sufficient restraints to sustain her under the trial.
"Every body," she said, looking at herself in the glass, "every body
must read my story in my face. These red, red eyes, these swollen
lips!"--And then she started up from her seat and cried, "No, no, it
must not be thus! it is for my dearest mamma's sake I am going, and
for her sake I will master my emotion, I will endeavour to assume
the tranquillity which she recommends." Repeated immersion of her
face in cold water, and the being told that a short half hour only
remained to the time appointed by Lady Delamere for her to be at her
house, restored, in some degree, the beauty of her complexion and the
animation of her eyes; while the bustle of necessary haste imparted
that glow to her cheeks, which, though called forth by feverish and
fervid feelings, could still boast of being the delicate dye of the
rose. Her dress was in itself of the simplest and most unadorned
fashion; and when her jewels were presented to her by her attendant,
most of which had been gifts from Lord Albert, she laid them all aside,
and positively declined wearing any. The extreme luxuriance of her
light, crisped hair, braided and curled in many a graceful fold, was
her only decoration; except that, as she passed a myrtle (the gift of
Lord Albert also), she hastily plucked a branch of it, and placed it
with some care in her bosom. How deceitful is the human heart! and,
above all, how deceitful is the passion of love, which conceals itself
under a thousand disguises! The jewels were discarded, but the flower
was chosen; that flower, which, for its emblematic associations, was
ten times dearer to her, and spoke a softer language than the diamonds'
blaze or the rubies' dye. Thus while denying, she cherished, love! Oh,
woman, woman! you alone know the meaning of the word, its thousand
concealed tendernesses, its purity of essence, its endless springs of
increase!
Lady Dunmelraise, when she took leave of her daughter, pressed her to
her heart, and as she blessed her with an honest pride, thought there
could not be a fairer, purer being, among the glittering throng. "Be of
good cheer," she said, "love, and sustain your own dignity."
When Lady Adeline arrived at her aunt's house, she had to undergo the
gaze of the persons assembled to look at the dresses of those who were
going to court, whose remarks, as she passed, kept alive that flutter
of spirits which prevented her from indulging in softer feelings, and
on the present occasion was of infinite use to her. On beholding her
dress, her cousins exclaimed against the total absence of ornament or
jewels; but she said, it was of no consequence, nobody would look at
her; and when they all offered her various _aigrettes_ and necklaces,
she besought them not to insist on her wearing them.
"I have plenty at home," she said; but added, with a melancholy smile,
"I have made a vow to wear none." Lady Delamere understood her, and
thought her own loveliness stood her in good stead of any extraneous
aid. At all events, she conceived it was cruel to press her further;
and as time admitted of no delay, they went to their carriage through
a line of persons drawn up on each side, all of whom bore testimony to
Lady Adeline's beauty. They went slowly along in the splendid equipage,
which, in the magnificence of old family state, attracted unusual
attention; till, coming to St. James's-street, they were obliged,
by the string of carriages, to continue moving on at a foot's pace.
And here again the gaping crowd made no inapt observations as the
glittering throng passed in array before them.
One singular-looking, fat man actually followed the carriage a
considerable way, evidently in admiration of Lady Adeline; and observed
to the person near him, loudly enough for her to hear what he said,
"As for _she_, so plain-dressed like, she's the biggest beauty of 'em
all," pointing at her; "but she wears all her diamonds and pearls in
her eyes and mouth." The people around roared and laughed, apparently
in approbation, and even Adeline smiled and blushed. By the time they
arrived at the entry of Buckingham House, her cheeks were glowing, and
her eyes sparkling, with an excitement which was, she acknowledged to
herself, salutary at the time, though factitious and evanescent. The
brilliancy of the scene too, so new to her, was not without its effect.
The rich liveries of the attendants, the military, the truly British
grandeur of the yeomen of the guard, the blaze of beauty, of dress, and
of smiles, struck Adeline with admiration and momentary pleasure; and
in her own natural way, she said to one of her cousins,
"This is a noble sight. I am glad I came. Mamma is always in the
right." But then in another moment she sighed; and remembering all
the circumstances that had so recently passed, the whole moving mass
of feathers, flowers, and jewels, became one undistinguishable
confusion, without power to charm or awaken her interest. But all
this while, she was borne along on the stream of the crowd; and she
heard, amid the buzz of voices, her own name, and then the observation
which followed it. Women always talk of the dress of those they wish
to _denigré_, and of course Adeline's was commented upon, and found
great fault with. "Quite improper, I declare!" said old Lady Honeyman
to her distorted daughters, whose features, under the influence of the
dancing St. Vitus, seemed to redouble their activity in honour of the
shaking brilliants with which they were covered; "I declare it is quite
improper to come to court as if one was in one's chemise! perfectly
shocking! quite indecent! Poor thing! had she nobody belonging to her
who could lend her a pair of earrings, at least?"--"What a beautiful
creature!" cried another voice; (a man's, of course) "did you ever see
any thing like the harmony of her features and the shape of her ear? it
is quite classical; and she has none of those horrid girandoles pendent
to it to spoil its form."
"Who is she?" "who is she?" went round and round in audible whispers;
and the last speaker pressed onwards, somewhat careless of the
convenience of his neighbours, on purpose to get another view of her.
"How people do squeeze!" said the enraged Lady Honeyman; "it is like
a bear-garden. Elfrida, my love, take care of your diamond cestus:
Lauretta, do not lose your ruby _aigrette_.--There, sir, there!--you
have torn my Brussels lace lappet all to pieces with the hilt of your
sword!"--And at this appeal the gentleman looked down on the little
yellow dwarf with infinite dismay and many apologies; and stopping to
disengage his sword from the ill-fated lappet, cast an evil eye upon
the black Lauretta, who assisted to disengage the lappet, wishing her
in the shrine of her namesake, where all her diamonds might receive
that homage which he was only endeavouring to pay to the unadorned
Adeline's genuine beauty.
At length Lady Adeline and her party reached the room in which the
sovereign stood; and Lady Adeline found herself suddenly in an open
space, from whence the monarch, and those persons attached to his
household, could distinctly see every person separately who entered.
Lady Adeline felt awed, for she had imbibed a respectful attachment
to the person of her sovereign, and her young feelings were those of
enthusiastic loyalty.
Lord Albert, who in his official situation had the private _entré_,
had not yet seen Lady Adeline, and at the moment she appeared in the
door-way, was talking to Prince Luttermanne; when the latter, with his
habitual admiration for every thing young and new, was so struck with
her appearance, that he broke off his conversation, saying, "Who is
that very extraordinarily beautiful girl now entering?" Lord Albert,
whose back was towards her, turned suddenly round, and, on beholding
her, was so overcome by a sudden revulsion of feeling, that he could
not directly reply. He hesitated, his countenance changed, his lip
quivered; and, after a considerable pause, he abruptly said, "Oh!
that is Adeline." Prince Luttermanne looked astonished, saying at the
same time, "Who the deuce is Adeline?" but Lord Albert had not waited
to answer any further inquiries. He moved away round the back of the
circle, to get a more distinct view of the object so unexpectedly
presented to him;--an object still dearer to his heart than any other
upon earth, and one whose presence, when, as thus, suddenly brought
before him, was never-failing in overturning all the sophistry of art,
and all the juggles and distortion of jealous passion. In the present
instance she stood before him as the personification of innocence and
truth.
In the midst of splendour and of beauty, _her_ beauty shone forth
in its unadorned power, and in the freshness of its morning purity,
pre-eminently bright in perfect simplicity. She was not unconscious of
the admiration she excited; but that very consciousness added to her
charms: it deepened the roseate colour of her cheek, gave additional
lustre to the tremulous sparkle of her eye, and threw over her whole
air and person that veil of diffidence which imparts grace to every
movement and interest to every glance. Lord Albert gazed on her with
intense admiration. He thought of the time when he had looked forward
to the present epoch in Lady Adeline's existence, as to one in which he
should be a partaker in her triumph, and gather up the suffrages paid
to her beauty as though they were so many offerings bestowed to gratify
his own feelings and confirm the superiority of his own choice;--but,
as it was, how differently did he feel!
She was now nothing to him, he was nothing to her; she cared not for
his approbation or his censure; she knew not whether he was to be
present at this her first _debut_ in the world, or not: and then,
again, a change came over his fluctuating feelings, and recalling to
mind the thousand instances in which she had proved her attachment to
him, the truth for a moment flashed before his fancy, and in despite
of all that had lately occurred, he believed himself dear to her. How
an enamoured imagination catches at trifles, and is the sport of hope
or fear! Lord Albert for a moment felt the full glow of tenderness and
trust float over his whole being, like a refreshing dew over a thirsty
land; and as he moved along, unheeding the gay crowd that flitted past
him, he sought only for the one object whom he desired to behold. He
now caught a glimpse of her, and then lost it again, obscured by some
feathered headdress, or some uninteresting intervening object; but, at
length, he reached a spot from whence he had a full view of her, as she
half knelt to kiss the sovereign's hand, and was raised again by the
most graceful action; and Lord Albert had the gratification of thinking
he saw an expression of gracious admiration in the sovereign, as he
turned to one of the lords in waiting, evidently making some remark on
Lady Adeline.
But all this while Lord Albert failed in catching her eye; and he now
retraced his steps as hastily as the crowd would allow, in order to
reach the door by which Lady Adeline must necessarily go out. In this
attempt, however, he was disappointed, for such was the pressure and
hurry of the officers to prevent a crowd in the presence-chamber,
and Lady Adeline was so rapidly hurried on, that she was quickly lost
to Lord Albert's view by the intervening multitude. He had not even
the gratification of once catching her eye as she passed; for, added
to the celerity with which she was compelled to move on after her
presentation, she felt, as was natural to one so young, a degree of
mingled flurry and awe, which kept her eyes fixed on the ground.
This, however, did not suggest itself to Lord Albert, and he questioned
himself to ascertain whether her apparent unconsciousness of his
presence was real or feigned. Notwithstanding this doubt, Lord Albert
continued his pursuit of her, and was so long unsuccessful, that he
began to think she must have left the Court. As he made his way with
difficulty through the crowd, he heard her name frequently mentioned,
and always accompanied with praises of her beauty. As expressions of
this kind fell on his ear, he could not forbear feeling that it was
profanation for any one to dare to speak of Lady Adeline but himself:
so unjust and so monopolizing is the spirit of jealous love.
At length, Lord Albert, almost despairing of meeting with Lady Adeline
by moving about, determined to fix himself at the outward door of
the saloon, where he knew that she must pass in going away. Here he
resolved to await the departure of the whole crowd, and, at least,
ascertain the fact; but he had only taken this position a very short
time, when Lady Hamlet Vernon appeared on the stairs, and nodding to
Lord Albert as she descended into the great hall, approached, and
took the seat which of course he relinquished to her. However much
he had, of late, sought her society, and felt entangled by the spell
which she knew so well to cast over him, there existed, at the present
moment, a disposition to emancipate himself from the thraldom, and he
felt her presence to be an intrusion. In proportion as these feelings
increased, so did the restraint in his manner and conversation become
more evident; and Lady Hamlet Vernon was much too penetrating, not to
be aware that some strong interest directed his attention from her.
He had remained some time in this embarrassed situation, which a
mutual consciousness rendered every moment more painful. Answering
Lady Hamlet Vernon's questions mechanically with his lips, while his
thoughts and eyes were wandering in quest of the only object he wished
to see, he suddenly beheld Lady Adeline, with Lady Delamere and her
cousins, at the bottom of the staircase, and was on the point of
abruptly leaving Lady Hamlet Vernon's side, and darting towards her,
when Lady Adeline's eyes were for a moment directed to him. A mutual
glance was interchanged, as brief as it was powerful, and he felt that
at least she had seen, had recognized him, and in that single glance
their souls had met and felt together; but her eyes quickly dropped,
she spoke hastily to Lady Delamere, and they mutually turned, as if to
re-ascend the staircase. This movement, however, although its intention
was evident, was so in contradiction with Lady Adeline's glance of
recognition, that it did not deter Lord Albert from ardently wishing to
speak to Lady Adeline; and he was hastening away, in despite of Lady
Hamlet Vernon's endeavours to arrest his attention, to join the former,
when a cry of "Throw open the window! water! she faints!" struck his
ear. The sound came from the opposite quarter in which he was going;
but when he perceived the bustle, and the crowd endeavouring to make
way for some person who was ill, and whom they were trying to bring
into a freer current of air, his first impulse was to stand aside
also, and lend his assistance for that purpose. In doing this, he soon
recognised the lady who had fainted to be Lady Glenmore, borne in the
arms of Mr. Leslie Winyard; and then, with renewed interest, as the
wife of his friend Lord Glenmore, he pressed forward, and succeeded
in making a passage to the window, the sash of which he threw up, and
partly aided in placing Lady Glenmore on a seat: he then hastened away
for water and restoratives.
Every one was forward in tendering assistance to the minister's wife;
and whilst many officiously stood around her, others, of better
judgment and kinder intentions, went in search of Lord Glenmore.
"What a lucky fellow!" cried Lord Boileau, one of the idlers who was
standing near; "what a lucky fellow that Leslie Winyard is, to have the
carrying of that beautiful creature in his arms!"
"Oh! you know _c'est une affaire arrangé_," said Lord Gascoigne. "She
never speaks to any one else now."
Lord Albert heard these remarks with indignation as he returned with
water, and could not help casting a look at the speakers, that they
well understood.
"Upon my word," observed Lord Boileau, "that man is quite insufferable.
I thought he was improved since he lived amongst us; but I suppose he
looks forward to rival Leslie Winyard, and will not hear the lady's
fame called in question on account of any one but himself."
"Bah!" replied Lord Gascoigne; "Lady Hamlet Vernon will never suffer
that."
"Is that really as people say?" asked Lord Boileau.
"Oh! quite settled long ago," answered Lord Gascoigne; "and as she is a
_maitresse femme_, she will not allow him to forsake her quietly."
"How very beautiful, how very lovely she is, Boileau!" said Lord
Baskerville, approaching at that moment; "now that she can neither talk
nor laugh, she is quite charming--hem! I never knew before that she was
handsome--hem! She ought to do nothing but faint--hem!"
"Yes," they both replied, "she is very lovely indeed." "I rather envy
Leslie Winyard," cried Lord Boileau: "that fellow has always been
lucky. But have you seen Lady Adeline Seymour, _la nouveauté du jour_?
Rather raw and unfledged yet, but she will be a very fine creature a
year or two hence."
"Don't you know her story?" whispered Lord Baskerville, approaching his
mouth to the ear of Lord Boileau.
"No--yes--I did hear something of it. She is going to be married, isn't
she?"
"She _was_," rejoined Lord Baskerville, looking very wise; "but, a-hem!
that's all off now. I know all about it--hem! for _he_ is so involved,
hem! that marriage is impossible--hem! And really the poor girl has
_echappé belle_; for I never knew such a puritanical affected--hem!
I cannot conceive what the women see about him to endure him for a
moment--hem!"
By this time the report of Lady Glenmore's having fainted spread
through the rooms, and there were assembled around her Lady Tilney,
Lady Ellersby, and the Comtesse Leinsengen.
"I do not wonder you were overcome, my dear Lady Glenmore; it was
terribly hot," said Lady Tilney in her most coaxing manner. "These
vile drawing-rooms are quite enough to kill one. Such a heat, and such
a crowd of Heaven knows whom! And then to see whom, or what? for one
never sees the ostensible object for whom one comes here. If it were
not to oblige Lord Tilney, and because one must, I would never come to
such a horrid place again. My dear Lady Glenmore, you who have suffered
so much are, I am sure, out of all patience with the whole thing."
Lady Glenmore, who had by this time quite recovered, and who was placed
very comfortably enjoying the fresh breeze that came to her unpolluted
by the heat and breath of the crowd, as she sat close by the window,
now resumed her accustomed smiling cheerfulness, and replied,
"Not at all, Lady Tilney; I assure you I have been much amused,
and think it is a very splendid scene;--so much beauty, so much
magnificence, that I was quite provoked at myself for being overcome,
and unable to enjoy it; but I am perfectly well again _now_, and I hope
another time to be more used to it."
"_Quelle niaiserie!_" whispered the Comtesse Leinsengen to Lord
Baskerville. "She ought to go back to her nursery."
"Nothing is so tiresome," replied Lord Baskerville, "as low people who
are always diverted. They must be false or fools, a-hem! after their
first existence in the world--hem! _our_ world I mean--hem! As to me,
I don't care for any thing or any body, and am always bored to death
here, a-hem! ar'n't you?"
"_C'est selon_," answered the comtesse in her most abrupt manner.
"Don't you know," cried Lady De Chere, "that there are a certain number
of people who live upon getting up scenes all their life? they are
always either fainting, or crying, or haranguing."
"It's very bad taste," rejoined Lord Baskerville, "at all events--hem!"
At this moment Lord Glenmore came up to his wife, betraying
considerable agitation, and inquiring tenderly of Lady Glenmore how
she felt, and speaking to her in a low voice of earnest solicitude; to
which she replied with answering affection.--Mr. Leslie Winyard moved
away, affecting more displeasure than he really felt.
"What a fuss Glenmore is in! Vulgar!--hem! I cannot conceive," said
Lord Baskerville, "why people should display their conjugal felicities
to the world."
"The old song, I think," observed Lord Raynham, who was passing by, and
overheard the remark, "gives good advice:--
'Ne cherchez pas la quintessence;
Contentez-vous de l'apparence.
Qui veut trop voir, et trop savoir,
Trouve souvent plus qu'il ne pense.'
"A polite inquiry, that did not enter into particulars, might perhaps
have suited better the interest of all parties, than that apparently
minute inspection of circumstances--eh! Baskerville?" with a sort of
sneering smile--"don't you agree with me?"
"Certainly, hem! nothing is so mistaken, or argues such want of
knowledge of the world, as to be _affairé_ about any thing."
"_To be_," observed the Comtesse Leinsengen, "is one ting, to _seem_ to
be is anoder: in dat lies de _savoir vivre_ or de no _savoir_. But did
I not hear my carriage was up?"
"Yes, comtesse; allow me to have the honour;" and she accepted his
offered arm and departed.
"D'Esterre," said Lord Glenmore, "I leave you to take care of Lady
Glenmore, whilst I go in quest of our carriage; your gallantry will, I
am sure, accept the charge."
Lord Albert felt really flattered, and would at any other time have
been happy to have such a post assigned to him, had it not been that
he feared in consequence to lose seeing Lady Adeline. This thought
gave his countenance an anxious, serious air, which the men around
did not fail to comment upon. But Mr. Leslie Winyard could scarcely
conceal his ill-humour. The husband to cross him was bad enough, but
another man, and that man Lord Albert D'Esterre, whom of all others
he most disliked, was gall and bitterness to him. He approached Lady
Glenmore, however, casting a look of insolence towards Lord Albert;
but the serious, preoccupied demeanour of the latter prevented his even
observing the impertinence intended for him.
Mr. Leslie Winyard now bent over Lady Glenmore, and whispered in her
ear. She listened with rather more complacency than Lord Albert seemed
to think was fitting, and she thanked Mr. Leslie Winyard for his care
with somewhat more of feeling than he thought the occasion merited; but
she spoke aloud, and seemed to avoid the whispered conversation which
the other affected to hold.
Lord Albert, however, who was the last man in the world to play the
mean part of a spy over the actions of any one, felt his situation
sufficiently awkward; and considering that his every wish was on the
wing after Lady Adeline, it became every instant more painful. He
almost determined on leaving Lady Glenmore; but then he thought Lord
Glenmore would naturally feel hurt at his doing so. Whilst weighing
this matter with himself, Lord Glenmore returned, announcing the
carriage to be at hand.
"D'Esterre, have the goodness to give your arm to Lady Glenmore on one
side, and I will take care of her on the other, and then we shall be
able, Georgina, to take you through the crowd without your suffering
any inconvenience." Mr. Leslie Winyard bit his lip with mortification,
and Lord Boileau said to him, with some degree of sarcasm,
"Really, Winyard, I think you _are_ ill used; after your services, to
see another preferred before you."
"Oh! _c'est la fortune de la guerre_," he replied, with an air of
_affected_ triumph; "but as for preference, _reste à savoir_."
"Upon my word, Winyard's coolness is admirable," said Lord Gascoigne,
"and I would bet an even hundred that he is right. Georgina, as he
calls her, I dare say understands a thing or two by this time, and
knows how to hoodwink Glenmore." No sooner had Lord Albert handed Lady
Glenmore into her carriage, than he returned swiftly, with a faint,
sickening hope that he might not yet be too late to catch at least one
precious look more of Adeline; nor was he disappointed, for he met
her suddenly, standing near the door with her party. Addressing Lady
Delamere with an _empressement_ of manner, and an intonation of voice,
that spoke the temper of his soul, his eyes fixed upon Lady Adeline's,
he scarcely knew what it was he said to Lady Delamere, till the extreme
coldness of the latter, and her marked asperity of reply, checked the
flow of his feelings, and he remained mute and abashed, when the silver
sound of Lady Adeline's voice, inquiring for Lady Glenmore, re-animated
him.
"The heat was overpowering," she observed, "and she could not be
surprised that any one had fainted; she herself had suffered from it."
Lord Albert made some answer, expressive of concern for her; and gazing
at her with unrepressed tenderness, he remarked the myrtle sprig in her
breast; for it was associated in his mind with some recollections that
made it, in his estimation, an object of infinite interest. At that
instant it dropped on the ground. He stooped to recover it hastily;
and as he half tendered to restore it to her, said, "Its freshness
was surprising, considering the atmosphere it had been in for so many
hours; yet not so, neither," he added, "when I remember where it has
been placed: but it is not worthy of such felicity. Allow me to retain
it, for I, at least, can envy and appreciate its happy fate." A glow
of lustrous joy illumined Lady Adeline's countenance; and if before
the agitation of doubt and sorrow had shook her frame, an emotion not
less intense, though proceeding from feelings the very opposite, now
affected her.
"Far as distress the soul can wound,
'Tis pain in each degree:
'Tis bliss but to a certain bound;
Beyond is agony."
Her emotion could not escape Lord Albert's observation, nor could
he mistake its cause. With all the warmth of renewed and genuine
affection, he again whispered to her,
"Adeline, will you be at home to-night if I come?"
Before she could reply, Lady Delamere's carriage was called. She turned
rather abruptly to Lady Adeline, saying, "Adeline, come; the carriage
waits;" and at the same instant Mr. Foley, who had been in quest of it,
joined them, as though in much haste.
"If you delay an instant, Lady Delamere," he said, "your carriage must
drive off, and then it is difficult to tell when you may get away."
"Adeline," cried Lady Delamere, speaking authoritatively, "take Mr.
Foley's arm." And at the same time courtesying coldly to Lord Albert,
she showed him his attendance was not desired, and hurried after her
niece and daughters; for Lady Adeline, confused and agitated, had only
time to cast a look at Lord Albert, and was in a manner obliged to
suffer herself to be led away by Mr. Foley.
Lord Albert stood for a moment like a statue: the sprig of myrtle,
however, was in his hand, or he might have fancied he had dreamed the
scene, so quickly had it passed. "What can this mean?" he said to
himself, lingering on the spot where Lady Adeline had parted from him,
quite unconscious of the crowd that passed by him in all directions.
But where is one more alone than in a crowd? His reverie, however, was
speedily broken in upon by hearing Lady Hamlet Vernon's name loudly
called; and the next instant, as she was passing, unattended, to go
out, she said to him:
"Do, Lord Albert, be so obliging as to give me your arm." In common
courtesy he complied; but it was mechanically, and like the action of
one in a dream. "You had better let me set you down, Lord Albert, if
your carriage is not up, or you will never get away." An anxious wish
to leave a scene in which he had now no interest, induced him to avail
himself of the proposal. He leaped in after her, and they drove rapidly
away. He said something expressive of thanks to her, of the crowd, of
the heat, of Lady Glenmore; and this brought them to Cleveland-row,
when their progress was stopped, and the clatter of horses, and
the crash of carriages, and the screams of women, and the oaths of
servants, resounded in all directions. Lord Albert hastily looked out,
and saw Lady Delamere's equipage, which had been forced out of the
line among other carriages, and, in order to disentangle itself, was
backing so as to come immediately parallel with Lady Hamlet Vernon's.
He was grateful to think it was not in any present danger at least;
but in lowering the glass and looking out to see what had occasioned
the disturbance, he had forgotten and left the myrtle sprig on the
seat of the carriage, and did not remark, in reseating himself, that
Lady Hamlet Vernon had taken it up and was holding it in her hand, so
absorbed was he in anxiety for Lady Adeline's possible danger.
Lady Delamere's carriage was by this time in contact with that of
Lady Hamlet Vernon's. Lord Albert was just about to put his head
again out of the window, to assure the former there was no danger,
when he saw Lady Adeline lean back suddenly in the carriage, and at
the same instant one of her cousins, as he thought, by her desire
quickly drew up the window, evidently to prevent all communication.
Lord Albert could not mistake this action. It perplexed and wholly
overthrew all his presence of mind; and under the painful pressure of
contending feelings he made some brief excuse to Lady Hamlet Vernon, of
endeavouring to see if the carriage could be extricated, and opening
the door he darted out, without any thought but that of yielding to the
impulse of his feelings, and proceeded home in a state of distraction.