MARRIAGE MANŒUVRES.
While events thus intimately connected with Lady Glenmore's
happiness were silently progressing, Lord Albert D'Esterre's mind
was engrossed and torn by a thousand contending feelings of a nature
wholly different, but not less fatally destructive of his peace.
After recovering from the violence of the first shock which Lady
Dunmelraise's sudden departure had occasioned, he had remained torpid
and incapable of action: then again, inwardly harassed by the most
lively anxiety, he had awaited, with an agony of suspense which none
can know save those who have experienced how "hope deferred maketh the
heart sick," the communication which he felt Lady Dunmelraise could not
possibly long delay, relative to Lady Adeline.
During each of the four and twenty hours which had passed since the
blow had fallen on him, Lord Albert had thus been the victim of one
contradictory passion or other: but still, in the alternate storm
or lull of his emotions, he had mechanically sought the society of
the only person in the world whom he now believed entered into his
feelings, or took any real interest in his fate. It may be readily
supposed that Lady Hamlet Vernon did not lose the advantage which this
undivided share of his time afforded her; and she found means, even in
the state of apathy in which Lord Albert seemed plunged, and during
the lengthened silence to which, at intervals, he gave way even in her
presence, to impress him, by a thousand attentions, with a sense of
the deep sympathy she felt in all his sufferings. At the same time,
she knew the wound that rankled at his heart was yet too recent to be
rudely touched, and the paroxysm of his malady too violent to bear
those remedies which, with the skilful and tender solicitude of one
who watches a patient on the bed of sickness, she awaited a favourable
moment to administer, but forced not injudiciously upon his acceptance.
With one exception only, no event occurred, no word was spoken, no
circumstance had been alluded to, that could in the remotest degree
bring forward the dreaded name of Lady Adeline. When, however, Lord
Albert heard, accidentally, at Lady Hamlet Vernon's, that Mr. Foley had
also left town a few days after Lady Dunmelraise, his feelings were
roused to a pitch that nearly decided him on hastening to Dunmelraise
in person. Nor is it probable, notwithstanding Lord Albert's former
resolves, that he would longer have hesitated to take this step, had
he not been assured, in the most pointed and positive manner, by Lady
Hamlet herself (who foresaw and dreaded the effect of this natural
impulse), that Mr. Foley had _not_ followed Lady Adeline, but was gone
on a visit to some other part of the country.
This intelligence again changed the current of his feelings, and for
the moment he was lulled into a security, that while his rival appeared
not in Adeline's presence, she would have leisure and freedom of mind
to reflect and repent of the cruelty of her behaviour towards himself;
and vainly imagined that there was better hope in leaving her to the
workings of her own heart, than by giving way to any reproaches which
he might have made.
Thus he lost the only chance that remained to him, of avoiding the blow
which was so soon to annihilate all hope. It was a fortnight after Lady
Adeline's leaving London, that the post brought him a letter, at sight
of the well-known characters of which he trembled; for with one glance
he recognized them to be the hand-writing of Lady Dunmelraise. He knew
that that letter must be the arbiter of his fate, that it must lead to
an explanation; and he felt that no explanations were likely to prove
happy ones. For a few moments he held the letter in his hand, dreading
to break the seal, for he was aware that it was the messenger which was
either to condemn him to the loss of Adeline, or give him the power to
seek her as his wife; and, of the latter, something within his breast
forbade the hope. At length he slowly tore open the paper, and, with a
gasping eagerness, read as follows:
"My dear Lord Albert D'Esterre,
"The period which was to decide the fulfilment of the wishes
entertained by Lord Tresyllian and the late Lord Dunmelraise
respecting yourself and Lady Adeline has at length arrived. Wishes
of this kind, however, are unfortunately too often subject to the
same changes which attend on every thing earthly; and it would
be weak, therefore, as well as wrong, to lament over them when
unrealized: still less should we do so, when their accomplishment no
longer appears to hold out that prospect of felicity which, in the
present instance, I am certain, was the only motive for their first
indulgence. I need not, my lord, enter upon the reasons which have
induced my daughter to resign the honour of an alliance with your
house: they will naturally suggest themselves to your own heart; and
if they do not do this, I consider an explanation of them would be an
intrusion on my part, of which I should be sorry to be guilty.
"I remain, my dear Lord Albert D'Esterre,
"Your very faithful and obedient
"ELIZA DUNMELRAISE."
"P. S. I forward a copy of my letter to Lord Tresyllian by this post."
"It is then as I thought," exclaimed Lord Albert. "Faithless,
treacherous, cold-hearted Adeline! why did I ever love you? Why place
my happiness on so frail, so unworthy a tenure? But it is well; it is
better thus. Since I have now no cause to mourn your loss, I will not
suffer grief for such an object to master me. It is well that you are
lost to me. Lost!"--he started at the sound, as he repeated, "Yes, lost
to me for ever!" and his lip trembled, while a sense of suffocation
oppressed and overpowered him, and tears, burning tears, burst from his
eyes. Not softly, not refreshingly, did they flow, but like the lava's
flood, which scathes the path down which it courses. For two days and
two nights Lord Albert remained in the most pitiable state of mind. He
would see no one, for to whom could he unburthen his griefs? and not
to speak of them was impossible: to whom would he deign to show his
lacerated heart? yet to what other subject than that by which it was
torn could he give utterance?
The necessity of replying to Lady Dunmelraise's letter was the first
thing that aroused him from this lethargy of sorrow; but when he
essayed the task, he found it one of no easy nature. He read and
_re-read_ the letter; he endeavoured to extract from it some gleam of
hope, some opening of possible change; but it was so calm, so cuttingly
and despairingly reasonable, so dignified yet so decided in its tone,
so meek yet so authoritative, that he felt it pronounced a verdict
which admitted of no appeal.
"Be it so," he said, with the composure of despair; "but, at least, I
too will speak my mind. Yet how? In a brief answer embody a world of
thought? How can words convey the sense of a broken heart? No! language
cannot do that. And if it could paint my feelings, why should I humble
myself before those who have thus sported with and spurned them? why
lay bare the weakness of my heart to those who have proved themselves
incapable of compassion? What can I expect to gain by so doing?
Nothing."
Blinded by this false reasoning, he felt, at that moment, that he would
have rejected Lady Adeline's hand, could he have gained it; convinced,
as he was, that her affections were no longer his own. Besides, who
ever reclaimed or regained a heart by reproaches? And then again
relapsing into tenderness, he mourned over the defalcation of that
purity and truth which he had worshipped even more than her charms. All
these, and more than these, were the thoughts which checked the flow of
Lord Albert's pen as he wrote copy after copy in answer to the letter,
and tore each, in despair of ever writing one which could in any degree
comprise or convey his mixed and agonized feelings.
But again the necessity of some answer pressed upon him; and, although
with the conviction that none which he could write at that moment would
be adequate to express what he felt, or prove a faithful interpreter of
the thousand tortures that possessed him, he finally traced and folded
up a few brief sentences, sealing the envelope immediately, as if to
preclude the possibility of further delay. Yet once more he hesitated,
once more a wish arose to write altogether in a different tone and
strain; but then he rapidly recalled to his aid all his late reasonings
and feelings on the subject, and finally despatched the following
letter:
"Dear Lady Dunmelraise,
"It would be doing injustice to my own feelings, if I did not state
that they alone have prevented my answering your letter sooner;
the purpose and tenor of which made me too plainly feel, that any
development of the sufferings called forth by its contents would be
equally misplaced and obtrusive to you, as well as to Lady Adeline.
"To say that any emotion of _surprise_ has mingled with my sorrow
would be contrary to truth, because I had felt the sudden and
unexpected departure of your ladyship from London (not even
communicated to me till your present letter) announced some decided
change in your opinion and determinations in regard to myself. There
is one point, however, for which, in the midst of all my sufferings,
I must feel grateful: it is, that the letter which announces to me
the forfeiture of that happiness which for years I have been taught
to cherish and consider as my own, leaves me no doubt that the
future welfare of Lady Adeline now centres in some other object, in
the attainment of which it will be more surely realized, than had it
continued to rest on me. That that welfare may be realized in every
sense of the word will ever be the prayer of,
"Dear Lady Dunmelraise,
"Your faithful and affectionate servant,
"D'ESTERRE."
"P. S. I shall of course communicate your letter, accompanied by my
answer, to my father, Lord Tresyllian."
No sooner was this letter beyond the power of Lord Albert's recall,
and actually on the way to Dunmelraise, than he would have given every
thing he possessed could he have changed its tenor: but this was only
one of those fluctuations of passion, of which he had of late been so
cruelly the sport; and the impulse of the moment, had its object been
attained, would as readily have given place to some other of a quite
different tendency. When the mind is once suffered to float about
without a guiding principle of action, it is a mercy and a miracle if
the being thus actuated does not become the prey of destruction.
As Lord Albert perused over and over again the copy of his answer, he
imagined he read in it sufficient ground to call forth an explanation,
on the part of Lady Dunmelraise, of the causes which had led to her
sudden abandonment of Lady Adeline's engagement with himself. But then
he speculated upon objects which like a blind man he could not see;
for never admitting, nor indeed feeling conscious, that it was his own
errors which had wrought the change in Lady Adeline, he never could
rightly apprehend the line of conduct which of necessity she must
pursue. If he had done so, had he taken the beam from his own eye, then
would he clearly have seen to take the mote from hers; and it would
not have required a second perusal of his answer to Lady Dunmelraise
to have acknowledged that it afforded no opening whatever, whether
from its tone or its contents, to induce herself or Lady Adeline to
swerve from the course they had adopted, or lead them to any other
determination than that which they had already avowed.
He however endeavoured to make himself think otherwise, and in some
degree he succeeded in this object; for what distortion will the
imagination not assume when warped by passion? In this delusive hope he
continued for some days, vainly expecting every post to bring him some
communication from Dunmelraise. How little he knew Lady Dunmelraise's
feelings! how falsely he judged of his own! As soon as she perused
his letter, she did not for a moment think of replying to it. She
had indeed not doubted, for weeks past, that Lord Albert's heart and
affections were totally alienated from her child; but the degree of
cold indifference with which, in her _reading_ of his answer, he seemed
to cast her off, exceeded what she could have thought possible. It
may be that, in her interpretation of the letter, Lady Dunmelraise
yielded in some degree to her previously-formed prejudices; and, as
is ever the case when we yield to prejudice, saw through them as
through a glass darkly, and pronounced the being who could thus coldly
renounce such a treasure as Adeline wholly unworthy of further thought.
Far from feeling, therefore, that Lord Albert's reply required any
further notice, or that it contained any thing which could raise an
after-regret if passed by in silence, or reanimate a dying spark of
hope in Lady Adeline's breast, she considered it final and definitive,
and without hesitation placed the letter in her daughter's hands.
Lady Adeline's sentiments, on having perused it, were in accordance
with Lady Dunmelraise's; but as soon as the first brief flush of
indignation had passed away, the bitterness of sorrow that was rooted
in her heart claimed its full power, and _grief, not anger_, preyed
like a canker on the bloom of her existence. Lady Dunmelraise watched,
week after week, with an anxiety proportioned to its object, for a
return of something like cheerfulness on the countenance of her dear
child; but though resignation sat on Lady Adeline's pallid brow, and
beamed in her angel smile, still there was a settled melancholy, a
change of fearful import, impressed on her whole person. Even her very
movements, once so gay and elastic, were now languid and measured, like
one who was soon to pass to another sphere. Nothing of the vivacity of
her age and temperament remained; and Lady Dunmelraise felt that she
waited for the hoped-for change in vain.
It was therefore some relief to her, when a visit from Mr. Foley
created a variety in the daily routine of their lives; and Lady
Dunmelraise thought or fancied that the exertions which Lady Adeline
made, in order to be agreeable to one for whom she had always
entertained a maternal solicitude, seemed the only circumstance that
at all dissipated the gloom in which her daughter was now habitually
involved. Mr Foley, however, while he remarked this favourable
change, ascribed it to other motives; and with that self-love which
predominated in his character, he saw in it a growing preference
for himself, and waited only for a season in which he conceived the
feelings of Lady Dunmelraise and her daughter would be sufficiently
prepared to admit of a disclosure of his sentiments, to make an open
avowal of them.
Meanwhile, Lord Albert, who was equally with Lady Adeline the victim
of self-delusion and martyred affection, continued to drag through the
heavy hours till even suspense itself became blunted. But Lord Albert
continued to strengthen himself in what he deemed the duplicity and
heartlessness of her conduct, and found a diversion to his sufferings
in the idea that they were occasioned by an unworthy object, whom
he was called upon by every rational principle to banish from his
remembrance.
At length it likewise became known to him that Mr. Foley was actually
an inmate of Dunmelraise, and this circumstance set the seal to the
erroneous conviction which for so many months had been gaining on his
deluded mind. Whilst thus discarded, as he imagined, by her whom he
had, in fact, always loved dearer than the whole world beside; wounded
in his tenderest feelings, and offended in his family pride; Lord
Albert unhappily found himself supported in his mistaken apprehensions
by his father, Lord Tresyllian, who, accustomed to refer most actions
to love of aggrandisement and power, and having survived those softer
affections which at one time bound him to Lord Dunmelraise, and made
him anxiously wish for a union between their children, now only saw
in Lady Dunmelraise's withdrawing from this engagement some concealed
object of interest, which impelled him scornfully to resent her
behaviour, and thus confirm the delusive views of his son.
From the time of Lord Albert's having come of age, the entire
independence of his circumstances had (without violation, however, of
any filial duty on his part) occasioned his intercourse with his father
to be of rare occurrence; but when he communicated the purport of Lady
Dunmelraise's letter to Lord Tresyllian, an identity of feelings seemed
to arise between them; and in their offended pride a tie of sympathy
was freshly formed, by which they mutually encouraged each other in an
ill-founded and unjust resentment.
Lord Albert's heart, however, was far differently constituted from
his father's, and in most other respects they felt not together.
Still, therefore, he found himself alone, as it were, in the world,
without one kindred breast on which to lean. Perhaps no sensation
of pain is greater than this conscious loneliness of being. He had
hitherto avoided all open confidence with Lady Hamlet Vernon on the
subject of Lady Adeline; for though she was well acquainted with
all that had passed, yet, from motives of delicacy, as well as from
a secret mistrust even of her sympathy, he had remained silent.
But when at length freed from the only tie which sealed his lips,
the long-cherished and lingering hope of Lady Adeline's returning
affection, it required no stimulus to make Lord Albert unburthen his
heart and all its griefs to one, the only one, who, he thought, entered
into them. The subject once commenced, the whole troubled tide of
fears, belief, conviction, and subsequent indignation, was poured into
her ear.
Too readily, and with too greedy delight, did she receive this
confidence, as the sweet confirmation of all her long-nurtured and
most ardent wishes; and the first step she took, in consequence, to
heighten his resentment against Lady Adeline, was to avow a knowledge
of Mr. Foley's long residence at Dunmelraise to be the result of his
passion for her; a passion approved, she said, by Lady Dunmelraise, as
well as by her daughter, and which was soon to terminate in marriage;
adding, at the same time, that she felt, as well as their mutual
friends (meaning Lady Tilney and her _coterie_), that it was matter of
congratulation that an alliance so thoroughly destructive to his views
and pursuits of life should thus be dissolved.
While in this manner Lady Hamlet Vernon fixed the dagger more firmly
in Lord Albert's breast, she no longer hesitated to evince for him, in
every word, and look, and action, her devotedness; and it was not in
nature, that under such an influence he should be allowed to retrace
his steps, even had he wished to do so, or to reflect on his own
conduct; although, had he had recourse to self-examination, even in
this stage of the business, he might still have retrieved his error.
Day after day, week after week, his diseased state of mind gained
ground, till at length the whole moral man became corrupt, and Lord
Albert was the slave of her whom he would have loathed, could he but
have seen the snare she had so artfully drawn around him. It is true,
the duties of his official situation employed him some hours every
morning; and in the routine of these there was no analogy to any thing
like feeling, so that they proved a temporary antidote to pain: but
when they were over, he was in the society of Lady Hamlet Vernon, and
of Lady Hamlet Vernon alone; for it was the nature of a mind like his
to be wholly engrossed by one object.
The world, that in reality cares for no one's actions, except as
affecting itself, looked on with indifference, and saw in Lord
Albert's course only curious matter for speculation. Some pitied him
as a fool, should he contemplate matrimony with Lady Hamlet Vernon;
while others applauded the dexterity of the woman who could succeed
in leading him captive, and secure to herself so great a prize. But
one friend yet remained to Lord Albert, who would have sincerely
lamented the circumstance, could he have believed such an event as
marriage possible; because though Lady Hamlet Vernon was undoubtedly
clever, handsome, fascinating, yet he saw in her no sound intrinsic
qualities, nor was there attached to her rank or situation any of that
preponderating family influence, which he could have wished should
distinguish the wife of his friend. But Lord Glenmore was not one of
those who doubted Lord Albert's good sense or principles; and though
he saw him involved in a _liaison_ which he was far from approving,
still he looked upon it as one of those temporary attachments from
which he hoped soon to see him liberated, and therefore discarded all
serious fears for him. But Lord Glenmore was unfortunately mistaken.
The entanglement in which Lord Albert was involved was not one easily
to be broken through.
Lady Hamlet Vernon's object was advancing rapidly, and her victim
nearly sacrificed. London was now almost empty. The only individuals
of note remaining in it were some official persons, who were looking
forward with anxiety to the moment of their departure. Lady Glenmore's
arrangements for her visit to the continent had been finally adjusted;
and she had at length quitted town with a heart divided between regret
at leaving her husband, and that kind of anticipated pleasure which
attends a first visit to a foreign country.
Whether any regret mingled with these sentiments, as she journeyed
with Lady Tenderden to the point of embarkation, at the idea of being
likely to lose in her absence the society of Mr. Leslie Winyard,
it is difficult to say; and equally so whether the result of this
absence would break through that intimacy with the latter, which
her _soi-disant_ friends considered to be of such perilous tendency.
Mr. Leslie Winyard certainly did not leave town immediately on her
departure.
In the midst of these final removals for the season, Lady Hamlet Vernon
found it difficult to arrange her passing the approaching autumn in the
society of Lord Albert. To propose to himself directly any project of
the kind was, she thought, hazardous; and though feeling the importance
of securing to herself his presence, she was obliged to trust to
chance, and to the habitual influence which she knew she had obtained
over him, in order to ensure his following her wherever she went.
"Where do you mean to pass your autumn, Lord Albert?" she said one day
to him, speaking as if in an unpremeditated manner, and announcing at
the same time her intention of going to Tunbridge. "Perhaps you will be
induced, if you have no other plan in view, to pay me a visit there?"
"Yes," he replied, sighing, "I shall like it exceedingly. Where can _I_
go but where you are? Nobody else in the wide world, save yourself,
cares for me;"--and a tender glance from Lady Hamlet Vernon gave back a
confirmation of the latter part of this querulous speech.
Many days more did not elapse, when Lord Albert, although pressed by
Lord Glenmore in the most friendly manner to accompany him to his
country seat during the recess, misled by the unfortunate and false
conviction that no one participated in his feelings save her who had
in reality caused their bitterness, blindly yielded to the delusion of
this hollow attachment, and found himself loitering round Lady Hamlet
Vernon's footsteps on the furze-clad hills of Tunbridge.