Lord Spoonbill was ushered into an apartment, the air of which was warm
and fragrant: the warmth came from Newcastle, and the fragrancy from
Bond street. At first entering the room his lordship saw not any one to
whom his name could have been announced. The servant who had opened the
door for him closed it immediately behind him, and he seemed to be in
an empty apartment. By an instinct natural to an Englishman he advanced
towards the fire-place, and there he presently saw on a sofa, the back
of which was towards the door, his friend Erpingham reclining at full
length, and having before him an open volume placed on a low table,
which had been constructed and adapted for reading on a sofa. This was
what Erpingham called "reading made easy."
His lordship expressed by his looks some surprise that his friend
should not rise from the sofa, and said, "Erpingham! are you unwell?"
"Ah! Spoonbill, is it you? Excuse my not rising to receive you; but the
fact is, I have been trying for the last hour and a half to get into an
easy position, and I have but just accomplished it, and if I move now
I shall not be able to recover the position, and you know how wretched
that sensation is. Well, how are the old materials?"
This last question referred to the health of the Earl and Countess of
Smatterton; and it was a phrase which Erpingham had learned from Lord
Spoonbill himself.
To this question Lord Spoonbill made the regular response, and
continued, "How is it, Erpingham, that I never have the pleasure of
seeing you unless I ride over to you?"
"Can't say," was the careless reply: "but," continued the
Epicurean, "I am not partial to mixed company. Now your house in town
is too multitudinous for me.--But my Clarissa tells me that the Countess
of Smatterton is going to astonish the whole world by introducing a new
first-rate voice."
For explanation, it may be enough to inform the reader that Clarissa
held the same place in Mr Erpingham's establishment as Lord Spoonbill
wished Penelope to hold in his. His lordship therefore was not sorry
that the subject should be thus introduced, and he replied:
"Exactly so. But we have our doubts whether the lady will, under
present circumstances, assent to the arrangement: for when she came
to London, it was as an orphan, but now her father has returned from
India after a long, and, I suppose, a profitable absence. Mr Primrose,
the father, is now on his way from Smatterton, and he has said in his
letter to his daughter, that he is about to place her in a home of his
own. So I fear we shall lose this star."
Mr Erpingham did not lay anything very much to heart, and therefore
he did not express any serious lamentation on this probable loss. He
directed his remarks to other matters; and among other questions which
he asked of Lord Spoonbill, alluding to the circumstances and events of
his lordship's life, he enquired: "And have you got rid of your dear
little Ellen at last? You had a great deal of trouble with her, I think
you told me some time ago."
Lord Spoonbill was quite as profligate as his elegant friend, but he
had not so successfully and completely neutralized all his feelings.
Though his profligacy therefore was coarser than that of Erpingham,
and though his lordship was not over gifted with sensibility, yet he
was not so entirely and systematically heartless. To this question
concerning poor Ellen he shook his head, and said:
"Why, yes; I was sorry for the poor thing too: she was very much in
love with me at one time, I really believe."
"Ay," replied Erpingham, "that was bad. It is quite annoying to have
a woman in love with one. I could not endure it. I make it a rule
never to encourage anything of the kind. You were too much addicted
to sentimentality when you were at Cambridge. I suspect now that you
are more than half in love with this Miss Primrose. Is she pretty and
silly?"
Lord Spoonbill frowned at the question, and did not answer it.
"Oh, well," replied his friend, "I have no wish to be in your
confidence. Pray don't tell me any more of your secrets than you wish
me to know. And if you are going to talk as much nonsense to me about
Miss Primrose as you did two years ago about your 'dear little Ellen,'
I must beg to be excused. Positively, Spoonbill, I have grown quite
nervous of late."
"I think," replied his lordship, "you have grown quite provoking. I
have no intention of boring your ears with any sentimentality, as you
are pleased to call it."
This being uttered in a petulant tone, and Erpingham not liking to
take the trouble of replying in the same tone, contented himself with
indolently saying:
"Well, well, don't be angry. Say what you please. I will bear it very
patiently."
Lord Spoonbill having but little time to spare, and being very desirous
of unburthening his mind to his friend, suffered this kind of careless
half-apology to extract from him the secret of his attachment to
Penelope. Erpingham listened as attentively as he could to the story,
and when it was finished he yawned out, "Ah! sure! But what assistance
can I give you?"
It was not very easy to answer that question. His lordship was more
disposed indeed to ask questions than answer them, and therefore,
instead of replying to the question of his friend, he said: "Now what
would you advise me to do?"
"Make her an offer of a handsome establishment. I suppose she is
violently in love with you."
"I cannot be quite sure of that," replied his lordship; "but I
believe I am not quite disagreeable to her."
"There is something in that," replied Erpingham; "but not much.
According to your account of this Miss Primrose, it should seem
that she is of a good family, and perhaps the arrangement that you
contemplate would not be acceded to."
"That," answered his lordship, "is what I most fear; and I will
acknowledge to you that I am so far in love, that rather than lose her
I would actually marry her."
"Marry her," exclaimed the Epicurean; "marry her! Impossible!"
Saying this, Erpingham roused himself from his indolent lounging
posture, and with much greater energy than he was accustomed to use, he
said: "Spoonbill, I am not much in the habit of either giving or
taking advice, but I will for once so far advise you as to say, that if
you contemplate marrying Miss Primrose, you must not on any account
whatever make her any other offer."
"Why so?" replied his booby lordship, with a stare of awkward
astonishment.
"Why so!" echoed his friend; "because, if the young lady has a proper
sense of her own dignity, she will not accept an offer of marriage from
one who has made her an offer of another description; and if she has
not that sense of dignity, but merely makes a profitable market of your
passion for her, she will despise you for a fond fool, and you, when
your fondness is over, will look upon her as a cunning, artful baggage.
I know nothing about Miss Primrose; but I am very sure that no woman
is fit to be a wife who could ever forgive a proposal of a different
description."
The sagacious hereditary legislator could not understand this logic,
and he stared at his friend as if he thought that he was crazy. "Bless
my soul, Erpingham," at length he said, "what nonsense you are talking.
I really cannot understand you. What can be more natural and regular
than to offer her marriage, if she will not accept me on any other
terms. You talk about hating sentimentality; I am sure you are now
talking as much sentimentality as any one need wish to hear."
Erpingham had exerted himself so much by the two last speeches which
he had made, as not to wish to continue the discussion, or to undergo
any more blundering interrogations from his noble friend; he therefore
began to resume his indolent attitude, and said, "Well, do as you like
best, Spoonbill, only remember I did not refuse my advice when you
asked it. Will you stop now and take your dinner with me?"
Lord Spoonbill was not any more disposed than his friend to carry on
the discourse, and therefore declined the invitation to dine, and made
the best of his way home again. As he rode homewards he attempted to
think, but he found no small difficulty in that mental operation. There
are some advertising schoolmasters who profess to teach their pupils to
think; but as we were not educated in one of these thought-mongering
seminaries, we cannot think how thinking can be taught. It may be
possible, for the only impossibility in these days is to decide à
priori that anything is impossible. But we do verily believe that,
had Lord Spoonbill been at one of these establishments, he would have
puzzled his preceptor as much as his preceptor would have puzzled him.
By the time that his lordship had arrived at home he had come to
the conclusion of his thinking, and the result was, that he thought
Erpingham to be quite an altered man; and he also thought that he would
not follow the ridiculous advice which his friend had given him.
Penelope made her appearance at dinner, and looked, as Lord Spoonbill
said, most divinely. How Lord Spoonbill should know what divine
looks are, we cannot tell: perhaps he meant that Penelope looked
like a parson. However Penelope might look at dinner, it is very
certain that Lord Spoonbill looked very much at Penelope. But the
young lady's thoughts were so pleasingly and agreeably engaged, and
her anticipations were so delightful, that everybody and everything
appeared agreeable to her. It was very different with the Countess of
Smatterton. Her anticipations were not very pleasant: her ladyship
apprehended that the return of Mr Primrose to England would be
the destruction of her prospects, as far as they related to Miss
Primrose. Having already observed that the young lady had manifested
some reluctance to the public exhibition of her musical talents, the
Countess very naturally supposed that Mr Primrose would indulge an only
child in whatever fancy she might take up.
It was unfortunate also for the Countess, that she could not easily
suppress her feelings of displeasure or dissatisfaction when any
of her favourite fancies were disappointed. Having already so far
committed herself among her rival prodigy-fanciers as to make a kind
of preliminary exhibition of her newly discovered wonder, her ladyship
felt that it would be very mortifying indeed to make her appearance
in town without fulfilling the high promises which she had made, and
gratifying the expectations which she had raised.
It is mortifying to spend money for nothing; but it is infinitely more
mortifying to be at the expense of a prodigious deal of condescension
to answer at last no good or self-gratifying end. This was the loss
and the mortification which the Countess of Smatterton now suffered,
or at least anticipated. Instead therefore of the usual courteous
manner which her ladyship had hitherto manifested towards the niece
of the late rector of Smatterton, there was coldness, haughtiness,
and silence. The Earl of Smatterton had not so quick a perception as
the Countess, and he had not anticipated any disappointment in the
return of Penelope's father to England. His lordship still continued to
sport the condescensions, and he did not take any notice whatever of
her ladyship's fit of ill-humour. When stupid men are henpecked they
often receive more pity than they need, for they are very frequently
insensible to many of the ill-humours of their mates.
Now, as the Countess was silent, an opportunity was offered for his
lordship to talk. Happy would it be if all married people would talk
only one at a time.
"And so, Miss Primrose," thus spake the Earl of Smatterton, "I find
that you expect shortly to see your father. It is a long while, I
think, since you have seen him?"
"It is sixteen years, my lord," answered Penelope.
"Sixteen years!" repeated his lordship: "you will hardly recollect
him. The meeting, I dare say, will be very interesting. And may I ask,
what time in the day you expect your father?"
"I fear it will be late in the day, my lord, for my father will not
arrive in London till twelve or one o'clock. His letter tells me that
he will call soon after that time at your lordship's house in town,
where he supposes I now am."
"He will be disappointed at not finding you in town," said Lord
Smatterton.
There was much truth in this last remark of his lordship's. The Earl
was somewhat remarkable for the intense and unquestionable truth
of many of his remarks. He was by no means given to what is called
romancing. Indeed, so exquisitely and unquestionably true was this
observation, that Penelope thought it needed not the corroboration of
her assent, but that it must carry conviction to every mind. And so
it did; and especially to the mind of the Countess, who immediately
observed: "Perhaps it may be agreeable to Miss Primrose to go to town
early to-morrow morning for the purpose of meeting her father."
Her ladyship made this proposal because she had no desire to entertain
Mr Primrose, and she thought that if Penelope was to be taken from her
patronage at all, the sooner it was done the better. What prodigious
lies patrons and patronesses do tell when they profess to have no
other object in view than the welfare and happiness of those whom they
patronise. The Countess of Smatterton had been pleasing herself with
the thought that she should be the talk of the season, as producing
and exhibiting such a prodigy as Miss Primrose; and her ladyship, who
was very partial to thanks, had been enjoying the anticipation of
Penelope's overpowering gratitude for such distinguished and desirable
patronage. But when all these pleasant and agreeable speculations
seemed to burst like a bubble, then was her ladyship very angry and
morose; and it was her wish to let Penelope know how deeply the
disappointment was felt. There were no words however which her ladyship
could use expressive of her feelings, and at the same time reproachful
to Miss Primrose. It was not Penelope's fault that her father, after
an absence of sixteen years, was now returned to England; nor would it
have been proper and just ground of rebuke that the young lady should
be pleased at the thought of seeing her father again, and be ready
to yield herself to his direction in preference to undergoing the
precarious patronage of the great.
Lady Smatterton was not the less ill-humoured because she had no just
ground on which she might utter the language of expostulation and
reproof to Penelope, but on the contrary her anger was greater: for had
there been an opportunity of indulging in language of reproach, that
very circumstance would have been a relief and consolation. It was not
therefore with a very agreeable intonation nor with the accompaniment
of the most gracious of all possible looks that her ladyship proposed
that Penelope should go to town to meet her father. But the poor girl
being happy in her own thoughts, and unconscious of anything done
or said by her that could be offensive to the Countess, was quite
unobservant of the harshness of her ladyship's manner, and thought
only of the substantial kindness of the proposal. To the suggestion of
the Countess Penelope therefore replied with grateful and pleasurable
vivacity:
"Your ladyship is extremely kind; and, if it is not giving too much
trouble, I should certainly be happy to take the earliest opportunity
of meeting my father."
"It will be giving no trouble," hastily and sharply replied her
ladyship; "there are coaches to town almost every hour. They will tell
you in the housekeeper's room what time the first coach goes."
Some high-spirited young ladies would have been mightily indignant
at a reference from a nobleman's table to the housekeeper's room
and stage-coaches. But Penelope was not so high-spirited; she was so
completely occupied with the thought of an early meeting with her
father, that nothing else was able to obtain possession of her mind.
A momentary pause followed the last observation of the Countess; and
then, in his own peculiarly majestic manner, the Earl of Smatterton
said, "I am of opinion that it is not quite proper and suitable for a
young lady to travel in a stage alone and unprotected."
With exquisite, and as if premeditated, promptitude Lord Spoonbill
replied, "Certainly not; but there will be no necessity for Miss
Primrose going alone or in the stage-coach at all. I shall drive up to
town tomorrow morning, and if the young lady will accept of a seat in
my gig, I shall be most happy in her company."
Hereupon a general family frowning took place. The Countess frowned at
the Earl, his lordship frowned at Lord Spoonbill, and Lord Spoonbill
frowned at the Countess; and if Penelope had not been too polite she
would have laughed at all three. Lord Spoonbill, however, in spite of
frowns, determined to have his own way, and seeing that Penelope was
desirous of going to town, insisted on accompanying her.
The Countess was next puzzled how to part with Miss Primrose; whether
as concluding that the young lady would not return to her and adopt
the profession which had been recommended by her ladyship, or as
admitting the probability that Mr Primrose would not object to the
public employment of his daughter's musical talents. For with all
her ladyship's alarm at the return of Mr Primrose to England, it had
not yet appeared that his return would interfere with her ladyship's
schemes. The probability however was, that when there was no pecuniary
necessity for the exercise of these talents, they would not be
cultivated for public display.
Before the Countess parted from Penelope for the night, her ladyship
said, "Miss Primrose, as I presume that your father may not object to
the profession which I have chosen for you, may I ask when it will be
convenient for you to take lessons previous to your public appearance:
for it is now time to think of that matter? Of course you know that I
have engaged a preceptor for you?"
The Countess of Smatterton had more fears than hopes on the subject,
and as for Penelope herself, she had taken it for granted that the
return of her father would of course release her from dependence
on strangers, and consequently render all professional employment
unnecessary. She was therefore startled at the question, but with
tolerable promptitude and presence of mind, replied:
"I am grateful for your ladyship's kindness. But, till I have seen my
father, it is impossible to say when I can begin to apply myself to the
instruction so kindly provided. I will return as soon as----"
The Countess understood this sentence, and answered with rather more
asperity than became a kind and condescending patron: "You need not
trouble yourself to return to me, Miss Primrose, unless you please to
accept of the instruction that I have provided for you. If I confer
favours I expect to choose what favours I shall confer."
Penelope made no reply, for her heart was full, and she thought of Mrs
Greendale; but, under all this, the joy at the thought of her father's
return kept her spirits from sinking.