TALES
OF
MY TIME.
BY THE
AUTHOR OF BLUE-STOCKING HALL.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
WHO IS SHE?
LONDON:
HENRY COLBURN AND RICHARD BENTLEY,
NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
1829.
J. B. NICHOLS AND SON,
25, Parliament Street.
WHO IS SHE?
"As a stranger give it welcome." Hamlet.
ADVERTISEMENT.
The following story is founded on facts which came within the knowledge of the writer. The precise point at which truth ends, and fiction begins, it is not necessary to divulge; but in an age when an avidity for the stimulus of real adventure seems in a great degree to have superseded the love of mere romance, it may not be uninteresting to state that the heroine of the following pages is not altogether a creature of imagination.
CONTENTS
Chapter
CHAPTER I.
"Oh! this is trim!"—Troilus and Cressida.
At not more than a stone's throw from a neat market town, in a certain shire of England, lived Francis Hartland, Esq. in a well-built square house, which was separated from the King's high road, by a lawn of twenty acres. Round this lawn a double row of handsome elms lined a ring fence, and formed the outer boundary, in that part next the house, of a bank covered with all sorts of shrubs, which sloped in a gradually inclined plane, from the shining laurel to the dwarf cistus, and met a broad belt of gravel, hard and smooth as marble, through which no upstart weed ever dared to force its way. This walk was fringed by a border of flowers, in such variety of glowing tints, that lawn and all might be aptly compared to a robe of green velvet, trimmed with a phylactery of broidered work, worthy of Sheba's Queen in all her glory, while the whole exhibited such precision and nicety in the keeping, as to suggest the idea that its owner, in league with the fairies, possessed some secret charm against every noxious reptile and devouring fly.
This Snuggery was not the hereditary right of Mr. Hartland, but was purchased for valuable consideration, and he came to live in it, nobody knew from whence, or how incited.
His appearance did not afford rich material for romance; for he was a sleek, mild, contented looking man of forty odd, with an open countenance. A spacious forehead of pipe-clay whiteness, from which his hair was making annual recession, surmounted a nose of latinostrous projection, eyes of rather the "lack lustre" character, and cheeks of roseate hue, or perhaps more truly, though less poetically, of brick-dust dye; while the toute ensemble received decoration from a set of teeth which seemed as if they had been newly chiselled from the finest block of ivory ever imported from the land of Ophir. But curiosity can find browsing even where food is most scantily provided; and accordingly nothing could surpass the sensation produced by Mr. Hartland's arrival at Henbury Lodge. The industry and zeal set in motion by this event were rewarded at length to a certain extent by information that the new comer was related to a noble house, and possessed a clear independent property of twelve hundred a year. Farther deponent sayeth not; but it usually happens that where truth ends, generous fiction takes up the tale, and a thousand stories were soon in circulation. That which excited most interest, and was therefore most frequently repeated, though entirely divested of foundation, gave to understand that a matrimonial disappointment had driven him from the scene of mortification, and induced his removal to a region in which he might hope to forget its sting.
Mr. Hartland's manner and appearances unquestionably contradicted this surmise; but no matter for that. We know that stubborn facts are accustomed to bend to theory in cases more impracticable than this; and therefore, though we may object to the idea that features which seemed to be moulded for the seat of a perennial smile, had ever been "sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought," no such incongruity was perceived in the market-town of which our narrative makes mention; and not only was Mr. Hartland believed to have suffered all the pangs and penalties of slighted passion; but by degrees a certain name, locality, height, complexion, and many other particulars, came to be added respecting the cruel fair one, with such variance as suited the character of each reporter.
The honest truth of the matter was, that Mr. Hartland came to his present independence late in life, and regulated his mind till then, by the pole-star maxim, which he imbibed with his alphabet, that the worst of all poor things was a poor marriage. His father died before he was born; and his mother, who understood the art of making one pound perform the work of two in any other hands, had contrived to educate her darling and only child, by exercising the closest economy; but, strange to say, instead of placing him in any profession by which he might support himself, and repay her for the sacrifices she had made, she preferred keeping him at home, and it was her pride and delight, that whatever were the privations which she endured, her son should know no want. Young Hartland had his horse, while his mother assured him that she chose to walk; his boots and shoes shone like mirrors, his hat was glossy as a raven's wing, and his whole wardrobe appointed with as much care as if he only waited for his legal majority to step into a good estate.
But one and twenty years had looked at themselves in the glass of one and twenty more, ere any change occurred; and then the heirship to a comfortable property put him in possession of easy circumstances only just three months before death deprived him of her with whom he had passed his days. This event rendered his home intolerable, and ability to quit the scene of his loss coinciding with inclination to do so, Mr. Hartland sought in all directions for an eligible residence. Being a man of orderly and clock-work habits, who had performed a measured round of daily action from the time of his earliest childhood, he felt no desire to alter the manner of his life, but only wished to continue its wonted routine upon a different stage. It never once occurred to his imagination that foreign travel, or even the recreation of a neighbouring watering place, might afford diversion to the uneasy thoughts which possessed his mind; but lighting accidentally upon an advertisement, which set forth that Henbury, with its appurtenances, was to be sold, he immediately resolved on being the purchaser. There were just as many acres as constituted his beau ideal of a snug abode, and he lost no time in transplanting thither every biped and quadruped on which he was accustomed to rest his eyes, insomuch that when first he opened them after sleeping in his new domicile, every thing around was so tranquilly arranged that he would have been scarcely sensible of having quitted his ancient abiding place, had not the painful feeling been removed of association with the image of his poor mother, whose arm-chair and work-basket no longer rose upon his view, empty and unoccupied in their allotted corner.
Now it may easily be conceived that Mr. Hartland, such as we have depicted him, though himself unperturbed, caused an active stir in the neighbourhood of his new habitation. The tradespeople all gave testimony to his being "a pure substantial man, who paid for every thing he had like a true gentleman." The regularity of his attendance at church gained him the rector's marked approval; while the apothecary sighed as he contemplated the damask of a cheek which seemed to hold out little hope of requiring aid from the leech's skill, or the rosy conserves of his shop. But the chief commotion was among the female part of the community, who, some for themselves, and others for their daughters, set a longing eye on Henbury's "crisped shades and bowers," where revelled "the spruce and jocund spring." On Sundays a general determination of gay hats and bonnets was observable towards that part of the church which was occupied by Mr. Hartland, where such a stream of floating ribbons might be remarked converging to his pew, as to authorise the belief that a current of the electrid fluid set in that direction, and drew the silken pennants thus to a point. The new comer was visited and invited by all the inhabitants of the neighbourhood, and declared to be an acquisition wherever he appeared. "Upon my word, a very sensible steady man is Mr. Hartland," was the usual panegyric pronounced by his hosts, while the old ladies protested that he played a capital game of whist, and the young confessed that though he had passed the first season of youth, he had not seen out its bloom.
Now it so happened that in the centre of the market-place, and in a house distinguished by two bay windows so prominent and closely set, that they looked like the eyes of a prawn, and served as spectacles to her who dwelt within, there lived a maiden yclept Jemima Ferret, whose name remarkably coincided with her character and vocation. Nature had originally bestowed upon her features divested of all attraction, and the small-pox had fatally confirmed the decree which had been issued in her cradle against the chances of a husband. Jemima had attained the age of fifty without a single proposal, though her favourite adage, and one which she repeated with such emphasis as to prove that she believed it in her heart, was, that "every Jack has his Jill."
When, however, half a century had fairly glided down the stream of time, Miss Ferret transferred with honest zeal all those exertions to the circle which surrounded her, which had hitherto proved inefficacious while applied to her own use; and as the materials upon which she worked were often widely different from those on which her skill had been originally employed, the success was proportionate; and Jemima Ferret rose to the highest pinnacle of consideration, as the most adroit and judicious negociator who ever made a match, and brought together two individuals in the holy bands of wedlock. Such was the profound sagacity, such the acknowledged ability and discretion of this hymeneal plenipotentiary, that she was always given carte blanche to proceed according to her own views, and there was a general understanding that whatever she "brought about," was effected in the very best manner.
In fact, such was the confidence which she inspired, that her neighbours frequently avoided betraying their wishes in any direct commission, relying upon her tact and penetration for discovering the secret purpose of their hearts, and forwarding their wishes if no pre-arrangement of her own militated against them; in which case it was well known that her manœuvring so far surpassed any tactics which could be brought in opposition, as to secure the crown of victory, and render vain every effort at competition.
Not to lead our readers into any false conclusions, which a little trouble in the way of explanation might prevent, it may be well to state the motives which induced an activity of zeal so very striking and conspicuous. Be it known, then, that Miss Ferret's income was a very small one, and though since she had given up all hope of bettering her fortune by a lucrative barter of such qualifications as she had to exchange for their money price, she had improved her means, by sinking her little capital for an annuity, it was not so liberal a stipend as to render her by any means indifferent to increase of comfort; and she prudently considered that the next best thing to forming a good establishment for herself, which we have hinted had hitherto proved impracticable, would be to secure as many settlements as she could for her friends, amongst whom she might pass from house to house much to the solace of her spirits and the relief of her purse.
In this office of match-making, then, which she raised to the dignity of a regular trade, or profession, she put forth all the strength of her talents, and prospered exceedingly. She had all sorts, sizes, and descriptions under her patronage; and her powers were so generally known, that though people did not like to own their obligation to a third person in matters of so delicate a nature, they were nevertheless secretly felt to be of such importance, that to conciliate Miss Ferret's regards became a point of rivalry in and about the town in which she resided.
Mr. Hartland, without being aware of the honour, was placed at the head of her list for matrimonial preferment as soon as he had come into possession of Henbury; but for once, Jemima was puzzled about a help-mate for him, some objection having occurred to three several young ladies, whom she kept constantly in mind, and who were still on the unattached service. When things are least expected, however, they often come to pass, and it so chanced, that while Hymen's chargé d'affaires was at fault for her game, Miss Robinson came to pay a visit at Colbrook, the seat of Sir Roger Goodman, an opulent and corpulent Baronet, who lived within the district which Miss Ferret resolved should limit the circuit of her exertions; because to have engaged in distant experiment would have increased difficulties, and diminished the probability of successful result.
The arrival of this lady, who deserves to be the heroine of a chapter, as she was soon destined to be head of a house, at once furnished a subject to animate the genius of our fair undertaker.
CHAPTER II.
"The first springs of great events, like those of great rivers, are often mean and little."—Swift.
Miss Robinson, the heroine of our present chapter, was just five and thirty, tall, thin, and well dressed, with something in her manner smart, clever, cheerful, and offhand, but free from boldness, which rendered her particularly agreeable to shy men, with whom she was observed to be a wonderful favourite. Then Miss Robinson had a "pretty fortune" of five thousand pounds entirely at her own disposal; and the only possible manner of accounting for her protracted "single blessedness," was by the supposition that either some "disappointment" had occurred in early life, which she was too proud or too independent to turn to advantage, or that she had been "over nice" in making her election, and discovered now that people might be too fastidious for the rapidity with which youth and bloom wing their cruel flight.
This at least was the way in which the point was decided by general report, and how the case really stood is not material to our present purpose to determine. The reader may perhaps imagine that Miss Ferret was not of such a grade in society, as to admit of her insinuating herself amongst the guests in a baronet's house, and that her ambition, confined to an humbler walk, would scarcely aspire so high as to rule the destinies of two such people as Miss Robinson and Mr. Hartland, but the fact was otherwise. A downright country neighbourhood, far removed from metropolitan fastidiousness, admits of occasional mixtures unknown to high life in town, and when we consider that the Ferret family, of which Jemima was the last remnant, had lived with credit, and voted steadily for Sir Roger during a course of years, as also that Miss Ferret's central position close to the market-place, afforded her opportunity of forestalling the scanty and uncertain supplies of fish, sweetbreads, and other delicacies which are the pivots on which turns the fame of a dinner entertainment in a remote situation, it cannot surely surprise any reasonable person that Miss Ferret should often be invited to mount her pony, and with her dinner dress tied in a handkerchief, and suspended from the pummel, solicited to partake of the good cheer which her late and early vigilance had provided. She was, besides, a woman of address. If she passed a carriage on the road, she drew her veil over her face, and never rode up to the front door.
She had likewise a permanent deposit of flowers, feathers, and furbelows, which were left in a bandbox at Colbrook, under the guardianship of Lady Goodman's maid, with whom she was a prime favourite; as, however multifarious the concerns on her hands, she never forgot to slip a volume of the last novel into her bundle for Mrs. Hopkins. If a servant was to be hired, Miss Ferret inquired the character; if a bargain was to be had, Miss Ferret heard of, and recommended it to her friends, and when all her various utilities were performed, the dulce was not neglected. Enriched with a countless fund of on dits, and freighted with charades, epigrams, epithalamiums, and pasquinades, this active member of society defied all the powers of dulness to produce stagnation of tongues, whenever she was one of the company.
Well, in brisk spirits and iron-sided health, after executing a list of commissions, half a yard in length, for Lady Goodman, off cantered Miss Ferret, in joyous anticipation of a pleasant week at Colbrook. Her reception was gladdening. "My dear creature, welcome," said Lady Goodman, "you are actually my right hand; I do not know what in the world I should do without you. Did you remember the wax candles, and the snuff for Sir Roger, and the cards, and my watch which I sent to have a new crystal, and did you pay Farquar's bill?"
"I have done, ordered, and paid every thing."
"Welcome, my dear, a thousand times!" replied Lady Goodman; "come, and tell me all the news."
"Ah! Ferret," exclaimed Sir Roger, who entered at this moment, "I rejoice to see you. Sad weather this; I have been as dead as ditch water, I can tell you, and am glad that you are come to keep me awake. The glass too is rising; you bring good luck with you; but here is Mr. Hartland riding up the avenue; I must go and meet him."
"Oh! I'm glad that you have asked Mr. Hartland; that's a nice man; I've seen a great deal of him lately," said Miss Ferret, as she turned to Lady Goodman; "but have'nt you got Miss Robinson with you? I long to see her: How does she look? when did she come? does she stay long?"
"She arrived on Wednesday, stays a month, and I never saw her looking better," answered Lady Goodman.
"A nice thing," said Miss Ferret, "if we could make up a match between Mr. Hartland and Miss Robinson, wouldn't it, Lady G.?"
"So it would;" replied her Ladyship; "but though your fame stands high, I think you'll hardly have ingenuity to bring that matter to bear. They say that he's not at all a marrying man, and if he's one of the bashful fraternity, there will not be time to get over the horrors of presentation to a stranger, before Harriet will leave us to go to her sister in Scotland."
"We must only not lose time," said Miss Ferret, "but make hay while the sun shines."
The door opened, and Sir Roger presented Mr. Hartland to the ladies. Though not an elegant man, there was nothing either coarse or revolting in his demeanour. On the contrary, he comported himself extremely well, in a plain and equable manner, without effort or perturbation, whatever were the society into which he happened to fall. A phlegmatic temperament, combining with constitutional prudence, and his mother's counsel, had preserved Mr. Hartland in early life from those exciting circumstances which often plunge young people into love entanglements; and incredible as it may seem to those who have been differently situated, it is not the less true, that he had lived so little in mixed society, and had been so little in the way of flirtation, that no rumour of marriage had ever been coupled with his name; and thus at an age when others have handed over their sensibilities to a new generation, this serene and unaffected man was only commencing his career of life, with all the simplicity of untried youth.
The company assembled; and such as have experienced the up-hill work of conversation at a country dinner, when the subjects of weather, crops, the moon, and the roads are pumped dry, will easily believe, that if Miss Ferret were not the most polished woman in the world, her animation rendered her, notwithstanding, the most agreeable ingredient upon many occasions, in those assemblies which her presence enlivened. She had the art to shake a drawing-room together, if we may use such a simile; and wherever she was she contrived to prevent that stratification of men and women which madame de Staël has so happily described, as characteristic of an English provincial half hour before dinner. Miss Ferret had seen the last newspaper, or talked with "an intelligent man who had stepped from the coach" in the precise moment of her setting out; or she had heard a paragraph read from a London letter; or had a conference with the post-master immediately before she quitted home; in short she knew something either true or false, which no one else happened to know, of every thing and every body. Thin and active, she glided about the room, and brought people into actual contact who had never interchanged a look till she appeared. Like the grouting of a wall she compacted and cemented what was nothing but a heap of loose disjointed stones, till her vivacious tongue poured in its eloquence amongst them.
When the glad announcement was sounded, that dinner was served, Miss Ferret, who had laid her plan of operations, commenced them by keeping up such a cross fire of talk, while the company were in the act of descending the stairs, that by the time they reached the dining-parlour, she now marshalled the guests without being perceived by any one, and contrived to slide herself into a chair between Miss Robinson and Mr. Hartland. The more obvious arrangement which, by placing the gentleman in the centre, would have given both ladies an equal claim on his attention, might not have been so judicious; but by Miss Ferret's disposition of affairs, she constituted herself the "soft intermediate" through whom any intercourse held by the extremes must pass; and she was thus enabled to regulate and guide it as was most conducive to her ultimate ends. Before the dessert came upon the table she had ventured to insinuate that there was a wonderful sympathy in the tastes of her protegés; and as she conveyed their sentiments from one to the other upon the comparative merits of roast and boiled, fricassee and fry, hot and cold, town and country, with sundry other interesting opposites which she herself suggested, there certainly did appear to be a harmony of opinion which bid fair for domestic union in that state of life which, we are taught to believe, traces much of the unhappiness by which it is, alas! so frequently embittered, to a fatal talent for disputation upon such like topics of daily recurrence.
The perpetual succession of single drops will wear out a rock, and therefore Miss Ferret seemed to be guided by sound discretion in her admiration of minor harmonies, life being, as she always observed, "made up of little things." From generals it was natural to descend to particulars, and Henbury itself was on the tapis ere the ladies withdrew. Miss Ferret asked Miss Robinson, if she, who was so partial to the pursuit of rural objects, and knew "every thing about plants from the oak to the daisy," had ever seen a cork tree?
On being answered in the negative, Miss Ferret exclaimed, "Oh I am so glad that we have any thing new to shew you! By the bye, madcap that I am, I am reckoning without my host, and must have Mr. Hartland's leave to perform my promise, as it is at Henbury that the curiosity which I have mentioned is to be found. They say that it was brought over a sapling from Cintra, near Lisbon, fully an hundred years ago, by an officer who gave it to my poor grandfather, who then rented the lands which now belong to Mr. Hartland."
Mr. Hartland blushed, and his skin being thin and fair, the suffusion was manifest to a degree which augured well for setting fire to the train which was laid in Miss Ferret's mind, as he replied, "I have horses which cannot be employed in a better service, and at any time I shall be happy to engage their best offices in procuring such an honour as you kindly design for their master."
"Upon my word, Mr. Hartland, you are very polite, and much more than I deserve after such a liberty as I have taken; but I mean to profit by it, I assure you. Miss Robinson ought not to suffer for my inadvertence in forgetting, that with my poor grandfather all my interest in Henbury passed away. We will accept your friendly invitation, though not your horses; for I am sure, that unless the rheumatism pinched severely, Sir Roger could not refuse his favourite Miss Robinson any thing. You know, my dear, that Sir Roger admires you more than any one; and I often tell Lady Goodman, that she is the best tempered, amiable creature in the world not to be jealous; but she dotes upon you quite as much. So you see that I have no chance of breaking the peace at Colbrook, which is mortifying, as it is proverbially, you know, an old maid's province and privilege to make mischief wherever she goes."
What with blushing, bantering, laughing, and complimenting, a very fair measure of execution was done before the party re-assembled above stairs, and Miss Ferret, who, like all wise people, was a keen observer of portents, remarked that Mr. Hartland was the first gentleman to leave the dining-room; upon which she gave a significant wink, accompanied by a smile, the meaning of which was only understood by Miss Robinson, to whom Miss Ferret had just whispered previously that she saw strange things in her tea-cup.
To talk of fortunes and fortune-tellers might have been too direct a mode of attack. So thought one who was never mistaken in her calculation, and turning rapidly to a little black dog which sat wagging his tail at Lady Goodman's side, Miss Ferret, with masterly presence of mind, said, as if continuing the previous conversation, "Well, it shall be submitted, as Miss Robinson will have it so, to Mr. Hartland. Oh! here he is! Come here, Duke—shew yourself to this gentleman. Mr. Hartland, Miss Robinson and I have had almost a duel about this little animal, which she declares is not of the true Norfolk breed; while I maintain that it is; and moreover that the first of the kind was brought here by my poor uncle Jacob Ferret, who got him at Arundel Castle, and carried him, when a puppy, many a weary mile in his bosom. Now I think my information decisive; Miss Robinson however will not yield; but to settle the dispute, she says that you shall be umpire."
Mr. Hartland looked evidently highly gratified, and proceeded directly to an examination of Duke's mouth, Lady Goodman laughing à gorge deployée at the ready witted Ferret and the confusion of Miss Robinson, who, all astonishment at our diplomatist's facility of invention, was completely nonplused. To have contradicted Miss Ferret's statement, however, would only have made matters worse, and proved still more unequivocally to Mr. Hartland that he had been the subject of discussion; so quietly acquiescing, she waited in silence for judgment to be pronounced.
"Miss Robinson is quite right," said Mr. Hartland. "Duke is a beautiful creature, but all his ancestors are not from Arundel."
"Well, well, needs must, and I give up," answered Miss Ferret; "but it is enough to provoke a saint that Miss Robinson is always right, and I am always wrong. I firmly believe that she bribes all our judges."
Her next coup d'essai was at the card-table. She had accomplished the point of involving Miss Robinson and Mr. Hartland in a descant upon all manner of spaniels, pointers, pugs, and poodles, which ramified into sundry other topics, and she now thought it high time to look after Sir Roger, for whom she soon arranged a rubber of whist; and after manœuvring for some time, set down the Baronet and an excellent player who lived in his neighbourhood, against the pair whom she determined to bring together in a partnership of a more durable continuance.
"Come, my dear," said she, "Lady Goodman always makes me her aide de camp. I am beating up for recruits. Here are Sir Roger and Mr. Gresham ready: Mr. Hartland will play, I know; but unless you are kind enough to take a hand, we shall be badly off. Do you begin, and I will cut in by and by. I know that you are not fond of cards, but you are always fond of obliging."
So saying, she bustled the people into their places, talking unceasingly—cut for partners herself, to save time she said, and had them all seated and the first deal commenced, before any one was aware how he or she came to be so disposed and employed.
When Miss Ferret had skimmed round the room, setting every body and mind in motion, she returned to a post where she was always welcome, particularly when fortune favoured, namely, at the corner of the card-table, all but in Sir Roger's pocket. From this vantage-ground she viewed the game; remembering every card, and gave a casting voice on sundry contested questions. From the same situation she likewise dispensed between the deals the pungent jest, the lively sally, or smart repartee; raised the sinking spirits of a vanquished foe, or curbed the too triumphant crowing of success. Here too she sat ready to ply her host with a pinch of snuff, or a judiciously tempered dose of flattery, as the case required. No genius ever elicited in the corps diplomatique is on record for a nicer trait of generalship than was exhibited on this evening by our female politician, who had calculated to a hair, and now shewed the perfection of her practice by bringing out her scheme with flying colours. Miss Ferret knew that Miss Robinson was no whist player, and though Mr. Hartland was a remarkably good one, the inferior skill of his partner would, she equally knew, so far counteract his sagacity as to prevent any chance of victory over the well-sustained game of two such antagonists as Sir Roger Goodman and Mr. Gresham. It was Miss Ferret's design that the Baronet should win; and in order to explain the rationale of her plan, it may not be amiss to give a brief sketch in this place of this worthy's character.
Sir Roger was descended from an ancient house, and inherited a fine place, but small fortune, which occasioned a perpetual strife between family pride and poverty. He had been at school what is called a plover-pated boy, and in fact arrived at manhood's prime with as light a burthen of learning as any dunce need ever desire to carry. The sports of the field, however, gave him ample occupation, and he married the daughter of a wealthy trader, whose well lined coffers would have supplied the deficiency of his patrimonial inheritance, if an ill timed bankruptcy had not frustrated his hopes. This was a severe stroke; it was however irremediable, and while health and strength continued, matters went on tolerably well. Sir Roger became the most skilful farmer in the whole country, and Lady Goodman, who was a virtuous and prudent woman, managed her department with cleverness and economy.
But as time revolved, reverses occurred; two or three infant children dropped off—Colbrook was left without an heir—and a chronic rheumatism succeeded, which called for more temper, resignation, and resource of mind than poor Sir Roger possessed to meet the demand. His decline of life, therefore, exhibited the sorry picture of a nervous, growling old man, who revenged every cloud in the sky which produced a sharper twinge, on every body who came in his way. His temper was graduated like the barometer, and rose or fell with the elasticity of the atmosphere.
Amongst the most exasperating trials of his life was loss at cards; and yet to abstain from playing was a still greater cross to one so entirely dependent, as was Sir Roger, on external excitement. He delighted in the company of Miss Ferret, who acted like sal volatile on his spirits, and Lady Goodman was so glad to have her at Colbrook, that it might always have been the residence of this useful personage, if her pride had not revolted at the idea of being called "a companion."
Such then was the outline of domestic affairs in the family of Goodman, and Miss Ferret knew what she was about, when she resolved that Sir Roger should find his purse much heavier at the end than beginning of the evening. But how did Mr. Hartland feel respecting these arrangements of which he appeared to be the victim? He was amply compensated by the partnership in which his losses were sustained; and which furnished occasion for several allusions, artfully improved by Miss Ferret, to fate—fortune—identity of interests—and sympathy in adversity, which never advancing in direct allusion beyond the literal precincts of the game in hand, suggested, notwithstanding, pleasing thoughts of an undefined nature which were as new to Mr. Hartland as if he had just entered his seventeenth year, and experienced for the first time, the stimulus and delight which is felt by a boy when taken notice of in female society.
So happy was the progress of affairs, that when the cards were shuffled in the last deal by Miss Robinson, and she summed up in a total the various items of apology which had preceded, by saying, "Well, Mr. Hartland, my bad play has been visited severely on you; your temper has indeed been tried in the furnace, and you have reason to remember the evil star which condemned you to such a destiny this evening:" her partner was observed to colour, while he replied, with more animation than could have been anticipated in one who had lost every rubber, "Miss Robinson, it is more agreeable to fail in some company than succeed elsewhere. I can remember nothing but the pleasures of this day."
"Why, my dear creature," said Miss Ferret, as she addressed Miss Robinson, "you have been horribly unlucky. I protest you have nothing for it left but selling out of the funds to pay off your debts, and though all you Change-alley people have been turned to coiners by the late rise of stock, it will not do to lift one's capital."
The table broke up; Mr. Gresham rubbed his hands self complacently, and moving briskly towards a window, said, "Somebody mentioned a star just now, which reminds me to look for some friendly ray to guide me home."
Mr. Hartland, who was equally interested in the light of the firmament, followed slowly, and was the first to exclaim, "How dark it is!"
"It is indeed," answered Miss Ferret. "Look out, Sir Roger, it is black as soot. I think you will have to answer to Mrs. Gresham for her husband's life if you let him go home to-night."
Sir Roger was in the highest state of good humour, and seizing directly on the hospitable hint, declared that neither of his guests should "stir a foot." Lady Goodman, ever ready to second a kind feeling, praised the merits of a well-aired bed to each of the gentlemen. Miss Ferret knew that Mr. Gresham would refuse to stay, which he did, alleging that Mrs. Gresham would be uneasy were he not to return, and she wished, as well as thought, that Mr. Hartland would remain if invited; in which speculation, accordingly, she was also right, and seeing him hesitate, she ran towards the bell, saying, "I assure you it would be folly to attempt riding home; there is no necessity at least for Mr. Hartland to break his neck."
"No," said Sir Roger, laughing heartily; "though Hartland lives at Henbury, there is no henpecker there yet."
This sally was met by Miss Ferret with "Excellent, upon my honour! Lady Goodman, is'nt that the best thing you ever heard? Well," added our voluble go-between, "I thought that this would be the end of it, when you gentlemen wedged yourselves into that far window before dinner, and prosed about new moons, full moons, and harvest moons, till you wearied the moon to sleep, and now you are left without any lamp in the sky."
To be brief, Mr. Hartland was easily prevailed upon. Mr. Gresham took his departure, and the circle at Colbrook, after partaking of a comfortable old fashioned supper, retired to their apartments. If all secrets must be discovered when we set about telling a story, we must reveal the fact that two of the party passed a restless night. How it happened may be thus accounted for.
Whatever may be thought, and however unnatural it may seem, that a man of forty-two should be visited by those agitations which the young imagine to belong exclusively to their fresh sensibilities, and the hacknied do not believe in at all, it will not appear incredible to those who are accustomed to look into the human heart with a philosophic eye, if we assert that Mr. Hartland's spirits were thrown into considerable flutter by the events of the past day.
Since his accession to an unexpected fortune he had heard many hints thrown out, both at home and abroad, upon the propriety of his "settling in life;" and any thing often repeated will produce impression. How much more then a matter of such importance as matrimony! His old nurse used now to shake her head and say, "Ah! Sir, since my poor Missess is gone you looks quite lonesome." The tenants who came to visit their new landlord, as they drank his health, always tacked a good wife as the climax of their wishes for his prosperity; and he was assailed by all the old women of the parish, gentle and simple, with some allusion to his single state. The words old bachelor began to fret and gall him in a manner entirely unwonted. It was no wonder then, perhaps, that with a mind thus pre-disposed, the machinations of Miss Ferrett found the soil prepared and ready to aid their purpose. Several circumstances of the evening rose in a sort of pleasing phantasmagoria on Mr. Hartland's recollection. He thought Miss Robinson very agreeable and genteel, neither too young nor too old, lively without being all on wires, like Miss Ferrett, quiet without being dull like some of the young ladies whom he had seen in the neighbourhood. As he continued to commune with his pillow, several obliging sentiments expressed towards him by Miss Robinson recurred to memory, and just as he at length fell off in a doze, the faint reminiscence of something concerning the funds glided in shadowy vision across his brain.
Miss Robinson had waking dreams the while of Mr. Hartland. She was five and thirty; he was of suitable age; she had five thousand pounds; a small provision to live upon in the decline of one's days, yet a snug little dower too, if well bestowed and carefully settled. Mr. Hartland's complexion was fine, his teeth superb, and his general air that of a very comely person. Altogether, Miss Robinson thought that she had not seen for a long time any one more amiable in appearance. Then he lost his money with such a good grace as promised well for domestic concord, and as she fell asleep the last words which she remembered were those of the not too refined Miss Ferret, when she wished good-night at her chamber-door. "Take him, my dear, if you can catch him; depend upon it you may go farther and fare worse."
Aurora unbarred the East with her rosy fingers, and sent a flood of golden sunshine over the fields. Nothing is so cheering to the heart of man as fine weather, and though Samuel Johnson, of lexicographical memory, doubted the fact, we honestly believe that few inhabitants of this terrestrial ball are altogether uninfluenced by clear air and a fine day.
A ride to Henbury was proposed, accepted, and arranged. Mr. Hartland's groom was sent forward to proclaim approach, and a quartetto, composed of the lovers (for such we may venture already to call them), Sir Roger and Miss Ferret followed quickly after. A narrow part of the road soon afforded opportunity, of which advantage was taken, and a double tête-à-tête was the order of the cavalcade, till the gates of Henbury flew open to receive the visitors. The cork-tree, and every other tree, plant, herb, and flower, was duly displayed and appreciated. The interior was also pronounced to be without a fault, and so complacently did the party feel towards each other, that Mr. Hartland, who thought himself bound as a true Knight to escort his fair guests half way back, was induced to go the other half through pure charity towards Sir Roger, who gave so many solid reasons for wishing to enjoy society while rheumatism would permit, that his neighbour, to say nothing of politeness, would have deemed it unchristian to refuse. So at Colbrook he dined again; again lost at whist, and again, deserted by the "conscious moon," ruminated on his pillow concerning the charms of Miss Robinson's person, mind, and manners.
Dull people must be told every tittle of a tale; but a lively reader, for whom alone we would fain weave the storied web, will anticipate results, and spare us the details of a courtship, brief as it was, which had its rise, progress, and conclusion in three short weeks; terminating a few days before the appointed period of Miss Robinson's visit to Sir Roger and Lady Goodman, in the regular proposals of Mr. Hartland of Henbury Lodge, to that young lady.
CHAPTER III.
"I will dance and eat plums at your wedding."— Shakspeare.
It is said somewhere in the Spectator, that "a woman seldom asks advice before she buys her wedding clothes." Now Miss Robinson neither asked advice before nor after; for, being an orphan, and of full age, there was no necessity to go through any such ceremony; she therefore decided for herself, that having no aversion in the abstract towards the holy state of wedlock, she could not make a particular sacrifice of that liberty which she had not, perhaps, found such a panacea for all the evils of life as Poets and Romancers teach, in a better cause than the present. Mr. Hartland was every thing which a reasonable woman could desire in a spouse, and accordingly his suit was not rejected. No projected alliance ever gave more general satisfaction; and not a single dissentient voice was raised against its prosperous completion, except that of Mrs. Bunn, the house-keeper at Henbury, who, in common with all persons holding the same situation under a bachelor's roof, never could abide the bare idea of "the Master's" marriage, even though it were to a Duchess in her own right.
On the first day, when Trotter the groom rode on with orders to have the best of every thing prepared for luncheon, and the gardener was desired to bring in the finest fruit that could be had, Mrs. Bunn augured ill of the message, which she considered symptomatic; but when it came to her being called upon for a fresh supply of linen, and informed moreover that Mr. Hartland was going back to Colbrook, her heart, as she expressed it, "died within her;" and not being able to find the hartshorn-bottle in a moment of such flurry, she is said to have had recourse to brandy, so completely were her spirits subdued by the prospect too fatally realized of a finished reign. To abdicate was preferable, however, to being deposed; and when Mrs. Bunn's agitation subsided, she came to that conclusion, resolving to avoid the disgrace of a dismissal, and by resigning the seals of office, while affairs of higher interest occupied the mind of our Benedict, prevent too keen a scrutiny into past conduct. Thus ended the dynasty of Bunn; and we must forgive her for casting "a lingering look behind," as she quitted the "flesh pots" of Henbury, for which she seemed to have as decided a taste as ever Sancho discovered.
With this single exception, as has been observed, all was smooth assent; and great was the sensation produced through town and country, when Miss Ferrett, cantering her pony at a quicker gait than usual, suddenly drew up opposite to the post-office door, and communicated to an expectant group of some four or five quidnuncs who were waiting the arrival of the coach, that "everything was settled." She was in her element; and in such a state of stimulus that she could scarcely control the effervescence of her spirits. Finishing her proclamation with "God save the King," she pushed forward to cry another "O yes!" at the milliner's and the apothecary's; after which she hastened home to set in movement sundry preparations in furtherance of the great event, which, with better foundation than is common in general to swelling pretensions, she justly considered as all "her own doing." We are usually partial to whatever owes its existence to ourselves, and therefore Miss Ferret's excitement was nothing extraordinary, and may be excused.
Our readers are by this time sufficiently acquainted with the carte du pays of Colbrook within and Colbrook without, to know in what part of the newspaper to look for the registry of a wedding conducted under the auspices of its goodly possessors and their auxiliaries. The sagacious and informed will not expect a detached paragraph, exhibiting such a host of Lords and Ladies that the happy pair are scarcely distinguishable in the brilliant mob; and which, were it not for the heading of "Marriage in High Life," might be mistaken for the list of arrivals at a London hotel; but the announcement of our nuptial rites will be sought, and found in that column, which, at one comprehensive view, presents a picture of human life, and directs the moral eye from the cradle to the grave.
We must not anticipate, however; for much is to be done before the printer sets his types to the titles of Francis Hartland, Esq. of Henbury-lodge, and Harriet, eldest daughter of a goodly 'Squire, John Robinson by name, and gentleman by degree. Lady Goodman wrote to her friend Mrs. Palmer, to send patterns of all sorts from town; while Sir Roger, who was as much delighted as Miss Ferret with the coming event, set to work with Mr. Points, the Solicitor, who rode off post haste to Colbrook at three several times, as if he was an express; and when arrived, bustled into the breakfast-parlour (for there was no library, there being no readers at Colbrook,) with such stir and importance, and made notes of the intended settlement with such pompous solemnity, that an inhabitant of another planet, suddenly introduced to the scene, might be fully borne out in the supposition, that our "special" was employed in taking depositions against a state prisoner, chargeable, at the very least, with design to overset the Constitution and compass the death of our beloved Sovereign.
Let it not be imagined that Miss Ferret's was a sinecure office, during this season of occupation. On the contrary, her dwelling in the market-place might be styled the very centre, heart, or focus, of these interesting proceedings. Her drawing room was the place of congress for dress-makers, stay-makers, shoe-makers, and plain workers, while her bed-chamber was the repository of boxes and bundles without end or measure, from town and country. These same apartments were likewise the scene of all the putting off, and trying on: the fault-finding and approval; the lively criticism on shapes and colours; fashionable and unfashionable, becoming and unbecoming, which naturally belongs most peculiarly to that period of grand climacteric in a lady's wardrobe, which Miss Robinson's was now to undergo; not to mention that Henbury Lodge, being out of the mail-coach line, Miss Ferret's abode was, moreover, a bank of deposit for innumerable and cumbersome packages from tailors, hatters, hosiers, "et hoc genus," &c. insomuch that the painstaking partisan, to whose official exertions this chapter is principally indebted for its subject, might be justly compared to the supple animal whose name she bore, when, with all its prying energies elate, and with persevering industry prosecuting its vocation in the bowels of the earth, the light crumbling soil falls in on every side, and incloses the ferret's slender form, overwhelmed in the destruction which itself had worked. But as it is not requisite to the appositeness of a simile that the analogy should agree in all its parts, we are happy to think that our Ferret had well grounded prospect of outliving her temporary sepulture, and hailing the bright beam of Hymen's torch to guide her through the lumbering piles of paper parcels by which she was almost suffocated; though it must on the other hand be confessed that, after she had leisure to reflect in the still hour of retirement on that busy crisis, she has been frequently heard to say, that nothing short of the most devoted friendship could possibly have sustained her; and in after times Mr. and Mrs. Hartland were often reminded of all they owed to her unwearied zeal.
As Miss Ferret studied the portable in all things, her wisdom was condensed in aphorisms, amongst which, "there is a time for all things," instructed her to choose the period of Christmas more especially for stirring up the memory, and the gratitude of her friends, when a plenitude of game, mince-pies, spiced meats, bottled ale, and other seasonable reflections, furnished festive opportunity of lightening a burthen on the heart, by reciprocating obligations on the stomach. "Turn about is fair play," was another maxim which lent its aid on these occasions.
At length matters appeared to be winding up to a point: Miss Robinson's paraphernalia, after due exhibition, and the sly purloining of many a useful hint, snatched hastily with scissors and brown paper, from collar, cape, and cuffs, was all sent home; and Mr. Points witnessed the due execution of the marriage articles at Colbrook, where Sir Roger and Lady Goodman had from the first signified their wishes that the approaching solemnity should be performed. The only hitch which arose, (just enough to prove that every human scheme is less than perfect,) occurred in the impossibility of Mr. and Mrs. Gordon's attendance on the auspicious ceremony. Mrs. Gordon was younger sister to Miss Robinson, and lived in Aberdeenshire, but indisposition would not permit her to leave home, and her husband would not go without her; so it was ordained that Sir Roger, in quality of guardian, should perform the father's part, and that the bride and bridegroom should make a visit to their relations in Scotland, before they sat down for life at Henbury Lodge.
These matters being adjusted, it only remained to fix the day and the hour for our espousals, which was accordingly done, and now succeeded cares of no less magnitude.
It has been hinted that Sir Roger Goodman's mansion was larger than his means of living in it. Space, indeed, was the first idea by which a stranger was struck on entering the doors; for the fact was, that besides the really capacious dimensions of each apartment, there was such a dearth of furniture, that the eye was not interrupted in its progress as it travelled over them. Four walls, handsomely paneled with carved work of green and gold, enclosed an area, which was called the billiard-room, with no other apparent object than that of exciting attention, to remark that not a sign of table, mace, or ball, was to be seen. In like manner the place of a saloon was to be found with nothing in it, and a chapel without provision for prayers. The "state" bed-chambers were reserved for such momentous purposes that they were never used at all, and therefore beds were superfluous; so they had not any in them.
From this outline it follows that the disposable forces of hospitality were confined at Colbrook within very straitened limits, notwithstanding the large size of the building; and an entertainment in this mausoleum of ancient grandeur, like a poem which we remember to have seen somewhere or other, in imitation of Ossian, might very appropriately be 'yclept a "feast of empty shells." Miss Ferret, however, undertook the arrangements under the controlling direction of Lady Goodman, and began her operations with the encouraging cheer, "Faint heart never won fair Lady. We must put our best foot foremost."
To work she set, and what with rummaging out, scrubbing up, turning, twisting, nailing, scouring, dying, and borrowing, things were put in some sort of order, and accommodation provided for a numerous company at breakfast. It was the custom of Lady Goodman's day, for the bride and bridegroom to sit in full dress during a week, and receive congratulations from all the neighbouring gentry: and sorely did she regret the impossibility of reviving so venerable a pageant on the present happy occasion; but there was no option, and fortunately the fashion of setting out in a chaise and four, relieved her from the mortification of confessing that the festivities of a hymeneal scene could not be protracted under her roof beyond the cake-cutting hour.
The waste suites of unfurnished apartments were decked out with green branches, and flowers disposed in arches and alcoves, so that Miss Ferret converted the whole house into one mighty bower. She rooted out some old moth-eaten banners, which were kept as an heir-loom in the attic story, where, reposing under lock and key, they bore mouldering testimony to the ancestral valour of Sir Roger's blood; also a stand of colours which had been presented to his father, who raised a regiment of Yeomanry; some Free-Masonry insignia, which glittered with embroidery of tarnished gold and silver; elks' horns, which had been sent as a curiosity; two American bows; a pair of snow shoes; some halberts, and a trumpet which were taken in the rebellion of forty-five, with other articles which had not seen the light for years, but now came forward, however incongruously, to vary the sylvan decorations, and were judiciously commingled with family portraits in massive frames; an ivory ship, which, covered with a glass bell, made a great figure; a canoe; two plaster-of-paris cupids; a leaden fawn; Harlequin and Columbine; Neptune and Hebe of the same material, and King William on horseback, well executed in bronze; so as altogether to produce an imposing and animated effect, along a vista of the entire front, including corridors, and enliven the "eternal shade" which would otherwise have resulted from the great quantity of laurel, spruce, fir, and other evergreens forced into company to fill the void.
Poor Lady Goodman, who knew better things than this ignorant medley exhibited, sighed as she acquiesced in all Miss Ferret's manifestations of taste, which would have been better suited to the preparations for enacting a puppet-shew in a country barn, than the embellishment of a fine feudal palace of the olden time, inhabited by those who boasted armorial bearings and descent from the brave and fair of other days. There was no help for it, however. It was Hobson's choice, and no alternative presented itself, were Miss Ferret's suggestions repressed, except absolute vacuity. Now Lady Goodman loved Miss Robinson affectionately, and could not endure to appear deficient in friendship, while her excellent heart overflowed with kindness. She therefore preferred giving free scope to the fantastical vagaries of a merry-andrew, to seeming less than she really was, to Sir Roger's ward, and her own protegée.
It was in the servant and equipage department, that the greatest difficulties arose. A solitary domestic, styled butler, but who exercised no dominion, for the best reason, namely, that he had no subjects, was the sole attendant at Colbrook. Dressed in a suit of snuff-coloured clothes which had once been black, he answered the hall-door bell. In jacket of fustian, with turned up sleeves, he might next be seen, cleaning knives and forks; or should
——"the earlier season lead
To the tanned haycock in the mead,"
you might again behold this worthy jack-of-all-trades, armed with rake and pitch-fork, tossing high and wide the meadow's fragrant crop. An old coachman, who performed as many parts in the stable as old Hasty did within the house, completed the male part of the establishment, and his rusty livery and antique wig were in perfect keeping with the heavy machine which it was his lot to guide, and the ancient pair of roan Barbarys which drew it. "What a turn-out for a wedding!" exclaimed Miss Ferret, as she gazed upon the carriage which was to appear on the following day first in the bridal procession.
"My dear Lady Goodman, I am ready to sink at the idea of such a tub being drawn up at your door, and really know not what to do. So few servants too!—it is quite confounding on such an occasion."
"My dear," replied Lady Goodman, "we must make the best of it. Your genius has done much, but you cannot make our old coach any other than it is. It is vain to fret yourself about what admits of no remedy."
"I cannot change, but I will manage yet to conceal it," answered Miss Ferret, who flitted off to give her directions and arrange her measures for the morning, which was ushered in by a brilliant dawn.
No sooner was the sun above the horizon, than our fair field marshal persuaded Sir Roger that he should go on to church, and be ready to hand the bride elect from her carriage, adding, that she hoped he would not lose a moment in sending back his own to accommodate some of the rest of the party. Though Sir Roger did not see any reason for what he was desired to do, and had no mind to sit by himself in the vestry-room for such a length of time as was contemplated by Miss Ferret, yet she was so urgent, that she gave him no time for deliberation, and half pushing, half entreating, had him fairly shut up in the coach and whirled with unaccustomed celerity from the door, before he had power to recollect that he should inevitably have a fit of the rheumatism in consequence of so long a sitting in a draught of air, much cooler than that of his own house. But David, who was perched up on high upon an immense old-fashioned hammer-cloth, large enough to bear the city arms on every side, like the lord mayor's equipage, received strict orders not to hear if his master called, but proceed, blow high, blow low, to Weston church. Now he argued, that as weddings do not occur every day, and Miss Ferret was chief governor on the present occasion, it might be better to obey her implicitly. Besides he was in the habit of turning a deaf ear to the word "stop," as having no footman except on great emergencies, when Hasty the butler stepped up behind, he knew that his porpoise-like body must be put in movement were he to indulge every whim of halting here and there; and a descent from the altitude at which David sat was no trifling exertion to a man "so scant of breath" as he was. He grumbled, indeed, sotto voce, at not "heading the procession," as he said; but Miss Ferret assured him that though she had an offer of all the carriages to marshal in whatever manner she thought proper, she would not suffer Sir Roger to be driven in any vehicle but his own, or by any less careful charioteer than his coachman. She likewise informed David that on account of the honour which she designed him of enacting avant courier on the occasion, she had made his wedding favours twice as large as those of any body else, which was true, for she used three yards of extraordinary white satin ribbon with silver edges, in this instance to cover certain defects in David's hat and coat.
This argument prevailed, insomuch that he took his seat aloft with much self-complacency, and from the prodigious breadth of his chest, and the monstrous size of the star-like platforms which Miss Ferret pinned upon it, quite as large as the sod in a thrush's cage, David looked at a little distance, so like a target, that had the archers been out, he might have received an arrow through the heart, before he could have had time to bless himself. He was next commissioned to return from Weston by a circuitous route, the pretext for which was to deliver a message at the house of a work-woman who had not brought home all Miss Robinson's linen, but the real object of which was to delay the carriage till all the party should have proceeded, and so avoid the display of that unwieldy concern amongst the gay chariots and landaus of the neighbouring gentry, several of whom graced our hymeneals with their presence. Miss Ferret then took occasion, when the company were all assembled on the steps just ready for departure, to say aloud to Lady Goodman, "Upon my word, your ladyship has left us this morning without a single servant to do any thing. Two gone on with Sir Roger; one despatched to order post horses, as if a note would not have been sufficient; and there is Barnett who has already drunk so many healths to this happy event, that he was not able to stand straight, so I have sent him off to bed."
So saying, she bustled and fidgeted about till by one contrivance or other, she got the whole train in motion, and contrived to bring them all back again, without giving any one leisure to remark how or by which way they returned to Colbrook, where a beautiful breakfast awaited them.
What with cutting cake, sticking pins, wrapping, and directing parcels, with compliments from Mrs. Hartland, and sealing packets of white gloves, while the gentlemen strolled through the beautiful, but neglected demesne of Colbrook, Time flew on more rapid wing than he is used to plume upon a wedding-day in the country, till a "trim-built" travelling carriage with trunks, cap-case, and imperial drove up to the door. Sir Roger handed to the bride, who was followed by her Caro and a shower of congratulations; and off wheeled the nouveaux Mariés towards Drumcairn, the romantic abode in Aberdeenshire of Mr. and Mrs. Gordon. Part of the company left Colbrook immediately after, while a select assembly was retained to dine and drink a bumper toast to the health and happiness of Henbury Lodge.
Here again Miss Ferret's talents were felt, if not acknowledged, and perhaps her chief ability lay in the circumstance, that while dulness and ceremony, which are the bane of English society vanished before her, she wisely took special care to seem no more than a useful instrument in the hands of others, though in reality she was the governing principle of all that ease and hilarity which her presence inspired. Miss Ferret might be compared to an able mechanic who, discovering the causes of inertion in whatever piece of workmanship is submitted to his inspection, clears away rust, removes impediments, rectifies the balance, oils the joints, and sets every spring into active play, without presuming to claim any merit in the contrivance that should interfere with the patentee. Had she not possessed such perfect tact, (which is a quality much more dependent on quick natural perception than the refinements of education,) that she always gave other people that credit which she deserved herself, she would soon have been taught to feel her inferiority; but she never was suspected, and people thought that they were particularly well, cheerful, and agreeable without supposing for an instant that they were indebted to her influence. She was by nature all that Lord Chesterfield vainly endeavoured to make his son by art, and knew that the whole secret of popularity consists in putting every one into good humour with himself.
The dinner was abundant, and its deficiency in setting off was but little observed where all the guests were kindly disposed. In fact that paltry criticism which is the terror and scourge of a country neighbourhood, is much oftener the offspring of stupor than malevolence. Keep a company alive, and they will seldom be able to tell whether your damask is of Scotch or Hamburgh manufacture, your china, Indian or Worcester, your glass, cut or plain. People only ask to be happy, and how this is accomplished is never enquired into; but if tongues are not employed eyes will be busy. Miss Ferret was aware of this, and her vigilance was unremitting. The boldest stroke, and one at which Sir Roger's mind at first revolted, succeeded to admiration, and green gooseberry wine in long necked bottles passed muster for sparkling champagne.
The trick had been played at a great race dinner, and Miss Ferret's convincing argument for making an experiment of a like nature at Colbrook, was contained in the following laconicism, "what has been, may be." Sir Roger succumbed, and no one detected the fraud. "Depend upon it," said Miss Ferret, "that all the French wines are made at home, and you are no greater cheat than your wine merchant."
The young danced, the elders played whist, carriages were heard rolling in the court, the party dispersed, and as all things must, sooner or later, come to a conclusion, thus ended the wedding-day, and Miss Ferret had laid the plan of another ere the sun was set.
CHAPTER IV.
"——What now remains
But that once more we tempt the wat'ry plains,
And wandering homewards, seek our safety hence."
Dryden.
Amongst the many contested questions which perplex conversation, and seem destined to remain undecided, is comparison between the sum of happiness derivable by those who are easily pleased, from frequently recurring and commonly procurable resources, and that resulting from the seldom tasted but vivid raptures of the fastidious, who, too refined for average gratification, find life a desert, in which, like "angel visits few and long between," the thinly scattered spangles of verdure glow with intensity of freshness amid surrounding gloom. We confess that our own minds suffered vacillation upon this important topic, till, having witnessed the every-day felicity of Henbury Lodge, we were enabled to cast the make-weight of its beau rivant into the scale of "little things."
As a flat road, however, admits of quick driving, we shall not detain the reader unmercifully in describing a scene which presented no alterations of light and shade, no moral vicissitudes of hill and dale, to vary the landscape; but satisfy ourselves with a short sketch of connubial contentment in a welcome-home to Mr. and Mrs. Hartland, who after a brief aberration from their domestic settlement, returned to the delights of clipped hedges, rolled terrace, and trim bowers.
It may be remembered that our wedded pair had each passed the term when people of both sexes in the presumption of life's springtide, talk of marriage as a common event which "comes to all;" and toss their fortunes to and fro, with lavish prodigality, altogether unprophetic of succeeding dearth.
This was precisely the case with ci-devant Miss Robinson, who, having rejected a crowd of aspirants, had begun to feel a chill frost creeping over the season of youth, and the joy of seeing herself now prosperously "established," and contemplating a well sized, well furnished mansion, in which she ruled by the style and title of "Mrs. Hartland," produced a degree of self-gratulation proportioned to the fears which had preceded her present elevation. She was a common place, prudent woman, and we must not be too severe on the weaknesses which were we, however, so stupid as not to observe, we should exercise no charity in forgiving. We do confess then, though not in the spirit of ill-nature, that no happiness ever transcended that of our recent matron, when seated in a new post-chaise, the pannels of which were like mirrors in which you might have shaved yourself, every strap and brace polished to black satin, postilion light and dapper, dressed in a fresh suit of green and silver, horses prancing, sun shining, she took her joyous course along her own smoothly gravelled approach, armed with a ticket-case of carved ivory in her hand, to perform the first circuit of country visits in return for those which had been unsparingly lavished on the late event. Neither did this gladness perish through its vivacity, as is the case with the generality of powerful stimulants, but there was a constantly recurring bliss in the sounds of "My own house, my own carriage, my own servants," &c. which produced new impression at every repetition.
Mr. Hartland's situation was not less enviable. Having passed all his youthful prime without considering marriage as practicable, he had thought less than any body during early life of changing his condition; and since he had attained competency, and became desirous of uniting himself suitably to a virtuous partner, the difficulties of seeking, finding, choosing, proposing, and wedding, rose upon his view like Alps beyond Alps, and presented such a formidable barrier against hope, that he could not see how the matter was ever to be undertaken, much less how it would ever come to pass.
The husband, therefore, was just as much enchanted as the wife. He felt himself raised in the scale of creation; he was now a person of more consequence than he had ever been before. Then his affections, which had been arrested by his mother's death, and which might be said to have suffered a blockade since that event, were all set flowing again with redoubled tenderness and activity. His former poverty, too, having prevented him from being an object of competition, his vanity had never been excited, and he was a total stranger, in his own person, to those attentions, which, we are sorry to say, are often disgustingly paid to men by the fair sex, when rank or fortune furnishes motive for entrapping them. Mr. Hartland's gratitude, therefore, to Miss Robinson, for having married him, was as sincere as it was unbounded; and thus this favoured pair were, in the language of the nursery tales of olden time, "as happy as the day is long;" reminding us of the spider, who spinning her web from her own vitals, "lives along the line" of her own daily occupation; or (as we are given to comparison), the Hartlands frequently suggested to our memory the Epicurean aspiration of the celebrated Quin, "Oh, that I had a throat half a mile in length, and palate all the way." Now, the moral palate of Henbury's inhabitants extended to the utmost verge of their possessions; and they might be said to taste and relish whatever they found in their path.
They had neither of them seen much of the world, and neither knew any thing of that high and towering intellect, which, like the lofty eagle, quits the level of the plain, and builds its eyrie in an upper world all its own. The Hartlands had sharp common understandings, good nature, and discretion; but they rose not above mediocrity, and were of that class whose natural walk is on the earth. They were busy all day long about every thing; interested alike in the gravest or minutest concerns, and never tortured their brains with any subject of contemplation beyond the reach of sense. Healthful in mind, as well as in body; gay, and continually employed; they talked, and walked, and rode, and drove, dined out, and gave dinners at home, and were never weary of themselves, or of the society around them.
But the cup of existence is never unmixed. If the wormwood leaf float not on its surface, it will be found lying at the bottom. Three years glided by. The first was one of such novelty and incessant excitement, that no yawning chasm was seen, felt, or understood; the second was sometimes slightly tinged by anxiety lest the pleasant hedge-rows of Henbury Lodge should one day encircle another race, and stranger feet should press its smiling lawns; but when a third year closed its barren account with blighted hopes, expectation died away; and though Mr. and Mrs. Hartland were still the envy of the region in which they grew, and were universally declared to be worthy of an annual flitch, it was nevertheless remarked, and especially by Miss Ferret, whose penetration stood high in public regard, that "all was not right at Henbury."
At first her hints conveyed nothing more determinate, than was communicated in the adage, "All is not gold that glisters;" but this had the effect of setting those who were less intimate than herself with the friends whose undefined sorrows she zealously published, writhing with curiosity, while her own gained time for such inquisition as should bring her to the true cause of that change, the effects of which only her quick eye had as yet discerned. Besides, it was more consonant with Miss Ferret's idea of true friendship to set other wits upon the discovery of any thing disagreeable, should such exist, than directly to proclaim it herself; and therefore every purpose was gained of stimulating the industry of other gossips, while her innuendoes, darkly dropped, persuaded the entire vicinage that she knew a great deal more than she chose to reveal, and was only withheld from promulgating to the full extent of her information, by "the sincere regard which she entertained for the Hartlands."
But what is there which a union of talents and diligence will not compass and achieve? Miss Ferret's were soon crowned with success, and happily the cloud that overcast the horizon of Henbury was of that nature which might be trumpeted to the four corners of the earth (if indeed the round world have such convenient recesses for playing hide and seek), without the violation of those feelings which our busy blab professed for her protegés.
It was well known throughout the country that both Mr. and Mrs. Hartland were particularly partial to children; so much so, that whenever they appeared, the fond mothers of the neighbourhood used constantly to ring the nursery chimes for their edification or amusement, and many a morning call has been inconveniently protracted to the visitors, for the purpose of "seeing the baby," whose tedious delay after summons issued, and elaborate dress when produced, proved the complete metamorphosis which it had undergone in the interval, before it was considered to be fitly attired for exhibition in the drawing-room. But Miss Ferret, happening to be in company one day when the large family of a neighbouring curate was mentioned, remarked that Mrs. Hartland, who never gave herself the habit of generalizing in conversation, replied rather pensively, "Alas! how unequally the gifts of Providence are distributed!"
Miss Ferret expressed herself to have felt as if she had been shot when this observation fell from her friend; and it furnished a clue by which the whole labyrinth of her secret thoughts came to be developed. Pursuing the light which now glimmered, Miss Ferret immediately acquiesced in the justice of the remark, and proceeded to tell of a gentleman and lady who were the happiest people in the world, "all but having no heirs to their fine estate," and added, "They have been married fully five years, and you may suppose what their feelings are; for we must acknowledge that it is the most natural thing in the world to wish that one's name should not be cut off; and, as I often say, an extinguisher put over one's grave is enough to lower one's spirits; for the grave in itself is sufficiently gloomy in all conscience, without putting an end to the whole stock, who might live a little longer, all at a blow."
Mrs. Hartland sighed, while a faint colour was observed to glance across her countenance. After a slight pause, she said, as though she had often pondered the subject, "Yes, hope deferred, they say, maketh the heart sick."
The whole mystery was now unravelled, or as Miss Ferret expressed the same idea in her peculiar phraseology, "the cat was out of the bag;" and it was evident that the Henbury thorn stood revealed, in the childless condition of that house. This point once established, it may be imagined that joy was at its height, on the actual expectation of an event, the delay of which only seemed now to the grateful hearts of Mr. and Mrs. Hartland to have been expressly ordained for the purpose of enhancing its value. How readily we acknowledge the providence of divine interposition when we are pleased!
But we cannot stop to moralize, it is our duty to recount; and if we could bring our minds into full sympathy with those whose history we are narrating, there are few subjects of sufficient importance to alienate attention from the theme of our present consideration. The dread of disappointment rendered Mrs. Hartland very cautious in divulging her hopes; but at length prospects of the most gratifying nature opened to her view, and Miss Ferret received permission to diffuse tidings which appeared to tell the acme of human felicity. Doctors and apothecaries, nurses and nurse-tenders, frocks, pinnafores, cradles, and caps, tops and bottoms, goats' whey, rennet-whey, asses'-milk, cows'-milk, and a thousand other appliances equally interesting of this important season, which was now unequivocally approaching, absorbed the thoughts, and occupied the conversation at Henbury. Mrs. Hartland reclined upon a sofa, and issued her orders from thence through the faithful Ferret, with as much pomp and ceremony as ever hung upon the Ottoman Divan; while Mr. Hartland's anxious office was to forestal the newspapers, seize upon the letter-bag, and prepare every visitor by regular instruction upon the topics of their discourse, lest the slightest imprudence in communicating the current rumours of the day, might disturb the nervous system of his wife.
To this end, he generally took his station in an ante-room in which a sort of probationary noviciate was performed, and people, after being examined, admonished, and duly qualified, received admission tickets to the presence chamber.
As the fulness of time advanced, several weighty consultations were held, which called forth every power of taste and understanding which the Hartlands possessed, to meet the opposite arguments which were propounded in them. Two debates of longer and more difficult deliberation than all preceding, were however happily adjusted to the entire satisfaction of the parties, and the perfect reconcilement of contending opinions. In one of these it was decreed that if a son were to bless the parent eyes, he should be christened Algernon Robinson; and if the soft smiles of a daughter were destined to awaken love, rather than ambition, Melasina was to be her name. Mr. Hartland's father had unfortunately been called Peter, Mrs. Hartland's progenitor Jacob; and the reader will admit that two more impracticable appellations were never unluckily brought together to perplex the counsels of a pair who were looking forward with eager raptures to the baptismal font, and habitually impressed at the same time, with the propriety of sending family echoes to the latest posterity.
How to harmonize sounds without compromising respect was the question, and no small exertion of skill did it require to balance the pros and cons. Many cogent reasons were urged by Sir Roger and Lady Goodman for the regular descent of Peter, Jacob, or both; while a hint, which gave a climax to perplexity was thrown out by the latter, who said that she should not think the addition of her worthy husband's name an unnatural appendage by way of compliment to him. Mrs. Hartland's rest was broken by this harassing choice of evils. At last she resolved on bursting her fetters, and declared the bold resolve to waive precedent, and not in compliance with an antiquated prejudice, entail on future generations the quaint appellations, which she determined to sacrifice to what she considered the true interests of her son.
"The junction of sur-names," said she, "may appease the shades of his dead grandfathers, and Goodman may bring up the rear. Whether boy or girl, the only sounds which need be uttered shall delight the ear, and all the rest may be smuggled away under initial letters. I am resolved on Algernon or Melasina."
Mr. Hartland was in the habit of acquiescing in the decrees of his better half: and remembered how pleasantly his favourite Sterne has declared that a man who might have made a flourishing figure in the world as an Alexander might be Nicodemus'd into nothing. He therefore gave his assent and consent to Algernon for the male sex, Melasina for the female, and the debate was at an end.
The second dispute of magnitude which was settled about the same time, related to sponsors. Mr. Hartland belonged to a noble house, and the Earl of Marchdale, who held a high office under government, was his first cousin. Those who know any thing of the world, are aware that consanguinity to great men, unless in the nearest degrees, is more frequently a disadvantage than the contrary. A brother cannot be left in obscurity, and perhaps a nephew may have some chance of preferment, but cousins are generally shaken off and made to know their distance. Mr. Hartland's mother had once made an effort to seek for her son the countenance and protection of his noble relative, but received such peremptory repulse that a second experiment was never hazarded.
Times however were changed, and circumstances altered likewise. It had reached Lord Marchdale's ears that Mr. Hartland was no longer a poor man; and curiosity prompted him to ask where the newly acquired property of his kinsman was situated, which led to information that it lay in a certain county where he wished to increase his influence. Something a kin to shame at the recollection of former rough treatment exerted towards his relation, withheld his Lordship from offering his congratulations on an accession of fortune which might immediately suggest a remembrance of his former unkindness; but he formed the benevolent design of seizing on the first convenient opportunity for some token of conciliatory recognition of his cousin. Mr. Hartland's marriage would have afforded an auspicious occasion, but unluckily Lord Marchdale was making a tour on the Continent when that event took place, and to have written an epithalamium after his return, might not have had the desired effect.
"I should not have thanked any one for wishing me joy on my nuptials, six months after date," thought his Lordship; and acting in this instance by the rule of doing to others, as he desired others should do towards him, he waited—and waited not in vain. Actuated by the motives to which we have alluded, to make more minute inquisition into the affairs of his uncle's only son than had been his wont, he became acquainted with the bright hopes which, like a morning in Spring, were breaking over the destiny of one whose prosperity promised now to transcend his own, for he was childless. Lord Marchdale therefore lost no more time, but hastened on receiving the intelligence to write the following epistle:
"Dear Frank,
"I am not one of those who advocate the perpetuation of family feuds. Your poor father and mine never agreed, but that is no reason why you and I should feel any hostility towards each other, though I fear that appearances are against me. My utter inability to serve you, when Mrs. Hartland applied to me in your behalf, having formerly obliged me reluctantly to disappoint her wishes, I learn now, with sincere satisfaction, that you no longer stand in need of aid, but are enabled proudly to raise your head amongst England's best protectors, her resident country gentlemen. I hear also the interesting news, that your happiness is likely to experience increase through an unexpected event; and am desirous that the young stranger should be a bond of re-union between us. If a boy, I wish that you may name him Algernon; and represent me at his baptism as godfather. If Mrs. Hartland should present you with a daughter, Lady Marchdale requests me to announce her disposition to stand sponsor. Believe me, dear Frank,
"Very truly yours,
"Marchdale."
The familiar style of this letter did not impose on Mr. Hartland, who saw through the kindliness of its contents; but it was agreed in full conclave, that it would be imprudent in the extreme to repel this advance; and as the possibility of succeeding to the Marchdale titles and estates had often in secret served as foundation for air built castles, which soothed Mrs. Hartland's solitary hours, she had already anticipated a part of her noble connexion's petition, by resolving on giving her child, should it prove a son, the only high sounding name in the family. Nothing could be more flattering to maternal ambition than the coincidence, which resolved all past solicitude into the pleasing certainty, that the expected progeny was to be ushered into life with due pretension. If a son, as it was earnestly prayed that the offspring should prove, Lord Marchdale and Sir Roger Goodman were to be his sureties; if a girl, Lady Marchdale and Lady Goodman were to perform the like office; and Miss Ferret, of whose adhesive assiduities it was impossible to get rid, was to be an honorary or supplemental corps of reserve. Nothing would tempt her to abandon the honour of "standing for the child;" and, to pacify her, Mrs. Hartland consented to her bearing it to the font, where she hoped that her over-zealous friend might be mistaken for a mere proxy.
All things being prepared, and the minds of all composed into tranquillity, Mrs. Hartland felt the moment arrived which was to crown her hopes and raise her consequence. But an event of such importance deserves a separate Chapter, and therefore we close this. Muffle the knocker, scatter straw round the house and offices, forbid all approach of horse or wheel that might disturb the anxious hour, and commit the invalid, with our blessing, to her medical attendants.
CHAPTER V.
"He talks to me, who never had a son."—King John.
We remember to have been shown once upon a time, as a marvellous curiosity, the stump of a large bay-tree, which had been cut down to make way for certain architectural improvements, and actually converted into a chopping-block, in which capacity it was employed during several years; but at length the family, to whom it appertained, quitted their dwelling, and the aforesaid stump, which had not been defunct, but only slumbering, was cast into a heap of earth, where, fertilized by the beams of the sun and the dews of the morning, it struck root amid the garden rubbish, and sent forth branches which flourished proudly, and spread their verdant foliage to the wondering skies. What joyful surprise would this neglected trunk have expressed had power of speech been granted! and with what grateful pride would it not have called on the admiring universe to behold and glorify its transformation!
Some such sentiments as we are supposing to have emanated from our bay tree, glowed in the hearts of Mr. and Mrs. Hartland as they gazed in rapture on a boy of uncommon symmetry and beauty; and, forgetful of the lavish prodigality of that vivifying principle which is employed at every moment in giving life from the palace to the cottage, the cottage to the kennel, and the kennel downwards to the lowest grade of organised existence, thanked Heaven with such alacrity of transport as seemed to intimate that they considered the effort of nature which animated the vital energies of Henbury as astonishing and unexpected as that which caused the chopping-block to put forth leaves and blossoms.
The innocent vanity which Mrs. Hartland had formerly felt at finding herself a wife, dwindled into insignificance in comparison with the elation of her spirits when the dignity of mother was added to her former honours; and the words "son and heir" might be read in every look, and traced in every gesture in characters which seemed to say, that none but herself had ever produced this mighty combination.
We have formerly stated, that literature was not the prevailing taste of the neighbourhood in which Henbury was planted, and as it is a common rule "to do as the Romans do while one is at Rome," Mr. and Mrs. Hartland may, for all we can tell to the contrary, have suppressed their own inclination to accommodate their manners and habits to the fashion of those amongst whom they dwelt. Certain it is that, from whatever cause it proceeded, there was an abstinence from books at Henbury till the birth of Algernon Robinson Goodman Hartland, and though his father had gone through school and university, and his mother played well enough for carpet dancers, sang a little, painted birds and flowers on velvet, and worked like a Moravian, neither the one or the other found time, amid the multiplicity of their daily pursuits, for reading.
The revolution which was effected by the little stranger's arrival was therefore the more striking. Every thing now was made subservient to the one great leading object. During the first year after this agreeable surprise, Henbury appeared a temple dedicated to Lucina, in which all the insignia of a new birth were displayed in cradle and pillows, saucepans and panada, blankets and wraps. Whichever way the eye were turned, the present deity of the place reigned from the attic to the basement story; and all distinct purposes, and applications of the several apartments were set aside for a season, to render the dwelling a universal nursery. Then came on the time of go-carts and corals; and every publication on teething, vaccination, and each disease to which infant flesh is heir, poured from the press by all the coaches, as if authors and printers were in league to pay their court to Mr. and Mrs. Hartland.
Three years passed away, and with them the scaffolding which, becoming unnecessary, was now thrown aside. The young Algernon, who, it must be confessed, was beautiful as we are taught to believe the little god of love, happily surmounted the host of enemies who take their stand at the entrance-gate of life to oppose the mortal wayfarer, and was the admiration of all beholders, as well as the centre of all joy and pride to his parents. He was a child of extraordinary loveliness and most noble bearing; and fortunately for him his father and mother had often remarked, that the peasant children were a healthier race than the offspring of a higher class, which procured for him the inestimable privilege of breathing fresh air, and exercising his little limbs out of doors.
The cares of home became gradually so engrossing as to wean Mr. and Mrs. Hartland from the social circle, of which they had hitherto been the chief pillar and support, in their neighbourhood. They were now employed from morning till night in studying plans of education, mooting the comparative merits and demerits of schools, canvassing the question of public and private instruction, discussing the respective characters of Oxford and Cambridge, and laying schemes for futurity, as though time were to have no end.
The natural consequence of these things was a considerable loss of popularity. People began to think both Mr. and Mrs. Hartland, who had been prime and general favourites, grown dull and selfish, forgetting that it was selfishness which passed the rigorous decree in adjudging that disagreeable quality to them. Mrs. Hartland, who never till now talked of books, soon obtained the opprobrious appellation of a Blue, and all Miss Ferret's efforts were unavailing to conciliate those who could not bear to think that the Hartlands were happy enough to do without them.
Jemima, however, though she did her best to obtain forgiveness for her friends, did not fail to warn them in private of their improvidence. "Out of sight out of mind," was an apothegm which she urged with reiterated pathos, to deter the inhabitants of Henbury from renouncing the world, which she assured them "could not be drawn on and off like a glove." Nothing, in fact, could be more hostile to Miss Ferret's views than divisions and schisms, which, by splitting a neighbourhood into parties, diminished its general hospitality; or those withdrawings from society through sickness or sorrow, which lessened the gregarious tendencies of the people amongst whom she lived. We may therefore give her full credit for not leaving, as she herself expressed it, "a stone unturned" to bring our pair of recluses to reason, and induce them to seek their felicity where she found her own, namely, in the festive coterie. But Mrs. Hartland in the course of her new studies had, some how or other, stumbled upon the remarkable sentence which Charles the Twelfth of Sweden, when a boy, wrote with a pencil at the bottom of a map of Riga, demonstrative of those talents which were one day to astonish the world: "Dieu me l'a donnée et le diable ne me l'otera pas," and with maternal energy she replied in these celebrated words, intimating by their appropriation to her own case, the same heroic resolutions which inspired the Swede, to preserve that which had been granted to her arms.
"My dear Jemima," added she, unconsciously drawing up her head as she spoke, "there is nothing easier than for people to talk who are not mothers. I cannot perform by halves, the momentous duty which it has pleased heaven to devolve upon me. The sacred task can only be fulfilled by an entire devotion, and we must give ourselves up to the faithful discharge of this awful trust. Lady Goodman, too, has never known what it is to be a mother (raising her head still higher); and really, my dear, it is impossible, even for the best intentioned of one's friends who are inexperienced, to enter into the tremendous responsibilities of a parent."
"No, thank heaven," answered Miss Ferret; "I know only by hearsay of the great pangs and perils, through the martyrdom of which you boast your new title; though our curate Mr. Pew, who had been but just appointed before your confinement, seeing me at your side when I accompanied you to the communion-table, stupidly churched me also, and gave me a share in all your thanksgivings for a son and heir. But depend upon it, my dear friend, that you will be tired of all this sort of thing by and by, and wish that you had not affronted your neighbours. Remember, after all said and done, that there cannot be any great distinction in bringing a bantling into the world, when every beggar-woman in the parish has a troop at her heels. Your child will fare the better for not being thought so much of. I always say that 'the watched pot never boils,' and people are constantly disappointed themselves, besides being intolerable to others, when they make too great a fuss about any thing that belongs to them."
Mrs. Hartland was deeply offended, and thus ended an intercourse which had ceased to please on either side, and the go-between quitted Henbury and its inhabitants for ever, enlisting herself from that moment amongst the most active of the oppositionists, who ridiculed their folly and resented their pretensions.
Matters proceeded in this train till our once social pair had scarcely a neighbour with whom they interchanged the usual hospitalities. They were, however, so absorbed by their domestic interests, that no void was felt, and the only serious grief which disturbed their happiness was the want of a companion about his own age for their idol Algernon, who improved in beauty as he advanced in growth, and gave evidence of talents at five years old which might have been deemed uncommon at double that age.
As may be imagined, Algernon experienced the very worst effects of the spoiling system. Every possible error in education seemed likely to lend its aid in making the child selfish, and the man, if he lived to become one, insignificant and disagreeable. Mrs. Hartland read every treatise which had ever been published on her favourite theme, and endeavoured to put every theory in practice. Like all late converts to any thing from its opposite, she was mad upon the subject of reading. Literature, next to the love of young Algernon, became her ruling passion, and the most tiresome pedantry of language succeeded her natural manner of expressing herself. Exercising a limited capacity on topics new to her understanding, and often above its calibre, our good dame's mind became the strangest mass that could be conceived of ill-digested systems, the principles of which she could not comprehend, but the practical results of which, however contradictory, she attempted to realize. Algernon was to be a miracle of early knowledge; yet his mind was not to be over-wrought. He was to be a prodigy of courage, while every living animal was banished from his presence, lest any injury should reach the child. Of self-denial he was to be a shining example, because Mrs. Hartland found that quality much insisted upon in the works which were now her chief delight; but at the same time her son's spirit was not to be broken by opposition, nor his temper soured by contradiction. From this specimen it is easy to judge of the whole, and the reader has no need of further insight into the chaos which we have sufficiently described.
Mr. Hartland, though Greek and Latin had been driven into his cranium, and he was rather proud of his skill in prosody, was a person of still flatter intellect than his wife. Constitutional indolence also added lead to the dullness of his faculties. It is therefore not to be wondered at, that, mistaking his fair partner's activity for genius, and her dictatorial harangues, delivered in words, each of which was as long as a tape-worm, for the profoundest wisdom; he honestly believed that Minerva herself had stepped down from her niche in the celestial Pantheon, to assume the outward similitude of his better half.
Now it so happened that, about the period of which we are speaking, a monstrous quarto, with prodigious margins, which professed to impart the newest and most approved method of teaching the young idea how to shoot like a vine along the march of modern intellect, arrived at Henbury-lodge. Mrs. Hartland flew at the prize, and disinterring the volume from the superincumbent mass of brown paper and twine by which it was environed, hastened to her sanctum, and opening at random, after the manner of the Virgilian lots, she chanced to light upon the following paragraph, which struck upon her eye and understanding as especially directed to her peculiar case:
"Nothing is more essential to the healthful developement of infant mind, than congenial society. A child should associate with his fellows, and while the bodily organs are kept in wholesome exercise, the mental energies are thus directed to the natural objects of childish pursuit. To this end children should be allowed to consort together, and exhibit the true bearings of individual character, uncontrolled by the bias which is given to youth by a constant and injurious companionship with adults. In fine, a child should always be provided with at least one playmate of his own age."
This paragraph rested on the mother's mind, and was the Mordecai of her peace. Her intercourse with the neighbouring gentry was reduced to an occasional exchange of morning visits, which afforded no opportunity of introducing her boy to the children of her acquaintance, and there seemed to be no probability of his having brother or sister with whom to associate at home. In this dilemma Mrs. Hartland often turned in her mind the temporary adoption of a peasant-child, who might serve the desired purpose; but as frequently rejected the idea, through dread of vulgar habits and low thoughts coming in contact with the mind of her son.
While anxiously ruminating on what was best to be done, it happened that Mr. Ackland, a gentleman who lived a few miles distant from Henbury, called to enquire for the family, and in the course of conversation of that miscellaneous kind which morning visits usually supply, turned to Mrs. Hartland, and asked whether she had been to Hazle-moor?
"Why to that desolate heath?" replied she. "I should not prefer a drive to Hazle-moor for any beauty which that part of the country can boast."
"No," said Mr. Ackland, "the landscape is certainly not very alluring; but you have heard of the lovely little Spaniard. Have you not?"
"I have not the least idea of what you allude to," answered Mrs. Hartland. "What Spaniard do you speak of?"
"Oh!" replied Mr. Ackland, "I thought that every one within a circuit of twenty miles at least had heard of our beautiful infant stranger. It is upwards of a week since a troop of gipsies appeared upon Hazle-moor, and there they might have held their station ever since without exciting particular attention, were it not for the extraordinary perfections of a child, who has in some mysterious manner fallen into their hands. Two or three portrait-painters have already come to take likenesses of the fascinating little creature; and the wild community to which she belongs having discovered the profit which may be realized through her means, are daily making money by exhibiting the symmetry of her baby-form to all who are prompted by curiosity to visit this tiny enchantress."
"Who is she?" said Mrs. Hartland.
"That is precisely the question which every body asks, and none can answer," replied Mr. Ackland. "If her owners are acquainted with her parentage, they do not choose to tell more than that they purchased her from a soldier's wife, who seemed a worthless sort of person. Her little mantle, hat, and plume, together with her country's dialect, proclaim the land which gave her birth. She speaks fluently, though with lisping tongue, and calls herself Zoé, as the nearest approximation which she can make to the more difficult pronunciation of Zorilda, which is the name she bears."
"Dear babe!" exclaimed Mrs. Hartland, "what will become of her?"
"Alas!" said Mr. Ackland, "the parents who have been robbed of such a child are objects of one's tenderest commiseration; and as to the little one herself, it is but too easy to foretell that her course cannot prosper. She is now only three years old or thereabouts; and for a short time to come may not imbibe the poison of personal flattery, but a race of vanity will terminate in destruction. Were I not the father of a family, and fearful of introducing perhaps the murderer of future repose amongst my children by bringing a dangerous non-descript under my roof, I would certainly purchase Zorilda from her present possessors, and take her home to Newlands, in the hope of being able to restore her some day or other to her relations. Yet, on the other hand, she may be the property of people who are not desirous to reclaim her, and might entail a weighty responsbility on my head. Such a romantic importation into my household could not fail of working mischief in the fulness of time, and therefore I have resolved silencing all the yearnings of impulse; but I recommend both you and Mr. Hartland to go and see her, as the wandering group who are intent on showing her to all who will pay them for the sight, will speedily pack up in all probability for some other scene."
A sudden thought, which she refrained from promulging, darted across the mind of Mrs. Hartland, and she pondered intently on what had fallen from Mr. Ackland till the following day, when, ordering her carriage immediately after breakfast, she set out, accompanied by her husband, young Algernon, and his nurse, for Hazle-moor.
CHAPTER VI.
"Beauty provoketh Thieves sooner than Gold."
As you like it.
The day was fine, and Algernon in high sprightliness and bloom, while his delighted mother, stimulated by the opportunity of comparison which now presented itself, secretly doubted in the pride of her heart that any "mortal mixture of Earth's mould" could furnish such a specimen of infant grace, as feasted her raptured eyes whenever they rested on her darling, who had now attained the fifth anniversary of his birth. Arrived at the Gipsey encampment, the party from Henbury descended from their carriage and approached a crazy tent, the back of which was turned towards the road by which our visitors had arrived at Hazle-moor. Mrs. Hartland, snatching her boy's hand, pressed eagerly forward, seeking with all her eyes, in every direction, for the little Zorilda. A group of rustic looking children were at play in front of the tent, and Mrs. Hartland darted into the midst of the circle, but not seeing any thing attractive in the coarse physiognomy of these youthful boors, she was seized with sudden alarm lest the object of her curiosity had been borne away by some fortunate rival, in the very scheme which she was herself meditating at that moment.
While she paused, not perceiving any grown person to whom she could direct an enquiry, a woman came running from a little distance and called out, "the Spanish child is here, Ma'am, please to walk this way." So saying, she conducted the party to the distance of a few hundred yards, till they reached a great mound of peat which had been piled together by the peasants of the country for firing, and formed a main source of incitement to the gipsies in selecting this spot for their temporary encampment.
The woman preceded, followed by Mr. and Mrs. Hartland, Algernon, and his nurse, and as they turned round the corner of the peat-rick, they were arrested with astonishment at sight of the perfection of human loveliness which burst upon their impatient view. Nothing, which was ever fashioned in the laboratory of Nature in her most plastic mood, could surpass the exquisite beauty of the cherub who lay fast asleep upon a cushion of newly gathered heath, the rich purple blossoms of which, mingling with curls of glossy jet, seemed to breathe their perfumes in token of grateful pleasure, as the mountain breeze playing amongst the tender branches wafted their delicate sprays across the infant's polished brow, as if to guard the little angel from the sun's too fervid beams.
Mr. and Mrs. Hartland gazed in silent rapture, but Algernon's transports were not so easily repressed; and Zorilda was wakened by the inconsiderate demonstration of his joy at sight of her. The pretty creature started from her fragrant pillow, and, frightened by the presence of strangers, opened wide the most splendid dark eyes, which till then had been reposing within their silken curtains, and, looking wildly round, stretched her dimpled arms towards the gipsey woman, to whose features she was accustomed; but ere the movement was finished, her attention was caught by the little boy, and springing forward to him, these charming children were in an instant locked in each other's embraces.
Mrs. Hartland's tears bespoke the feelings of her heart, and the gipsey woman, desirous to heighten the effect of the scene by flattery, assured her that the little Spaniard had never before exhibited such sensibility to a stranger.
The children played together with a kid which had attached itself to Zorilda, and lay cropping the stray sprigs of her flowery couch while she slept. As Mrs. Hartland retired back a few paces to indulge her emotion, the young Spaniard fancied that she was going away, and seizing her hand, pointed to Algernon with a look of deep anxiety, crying, in the sweetest possible accent, "Lady, no, no go." The spell was now firmly bound around the mother's affection, and she resolved, that if money could purchase the child, she would not return home without Zorilda. Mr. Hartland was in the habit, as has been stated, of yielding to every suggestion of his wife, whose prudence he respected as much as he admired her wisdom; and as he doted on his son, in common with her, and was as much delighted with Zorilda as Mrs. Hartland could possibly be, he entered warmly into the idea of securing such a treasure of companionship for Algernon, and set about negotiating the purchase with all the zeal of one who wished to succeed.
The husband of the gipsey woman returned ere long, and much time did not elapse before a bargain was concluded, the terms of which were, that the child should accompany the party to Henbury, leaving the best part of her little wardrobe behind, and fifty guineas were to be exchanged for her in cash. The gipsies were in reality very anxious to sell the infant, as, though the avidity of gain rendered them desirous to exhibit her for profit, they suffered continual uneasiness from the dread of her being claimed. They had, it is true, stolen her in a distant part of the kingdom, and reached Hazle-moor by forced marches and by intricate bye ways; but much farther concealment could not be hoped for, and the mere loss of their booty was not the worst which these lawless plunderers apprehended. They would be punished for the flagrant violation of the laws which they had committed, and therefore gladly availed themselves of the first offer to take the little girl off their hands for a pecuniary price.
The business was arranged, and Zorilda, who clung with the greatest solicitude to her new acquaintance, as if she felt it more natural as well as agreeable to associate with them than her late masters, was put into the carriage. Algernon followed, and Mrs. Hartland was just raising her foot to the step, when Zorilda's kid made a spring, and took precedence most ungallantly of the lady. The children were charmed with nanny-goat's agility, clasped it in their arms, and begged that it might be left with them. Half a guinea settled this second sale, and the happy family drove away; Mr. Hartland having stipulated to redeem his promissory note on the next market-day at the Tholsel, and an engagement having been agreed to by the wandering horde, that no enquiries should ever be made by any of them again concerning the Spanish foundling.
"Who can this little darling be?" said Mrs. Hartland. It was in vain that she catechised the child. "Zoé," was the only reply to the question, however frequently repeated, of "what is your name?"
The little stranger speedily adopted the sounds of "papa and mamma," the happy children lived in each other's smiles, unconscious that a time might ever come when joy should be exchanged for grief; and what is more extraordinary, such is the contraction of a selfish spirit, parents who ought to have been able to take a wider survey of causes and effects, were satisfied with present expediency, and resolved that futurity should shift for itself.
Time rolled on; the same lessons, the same amusements, occupied the opening minds of Algernon and Zorilda; yet in reality how dissimilar was the education which they received! Admired, and even cherished as was the latter, she was in point of fact a purchased slave, while the former was the hope, the promise, the prop, and pillar of his father's house. As we have never obtained a phrenological survey of these childrens' heads, we shall not say any thing of original configuration with reference to faculties and positions, nor fraudulently entrap our readers into a new edition of Locke on the human understanding, when they expect to find a narrative relating to individuals and events. It suffices us as faithful biographers to state that, while Algernon was theoretically informed, Zorilda was practically instructed; and as early impressions are generally conceived to possess considerable influence on subsequent character, we hope to be pardoned for briefly describing the opposite results of two systems essentially different from each other. Were the children at their meals? Algernon was told that good boys were never greedy, but he was always helped first. Were the little friends at play? Algernon often heard that the eldest, who had most sense, should always give up, and "the young gentleman yield to the young lady." Yet Algernon who was selfish, contended, conquered, and was never reprimanded. He was recommended to be polite, but the little Zorilda was commanded to bring him whatever he wanted. Matters in short were so managed, or rather mismanaged, that words were employed with one, and actions with the other; shadows were the portion of Algernon, while all the substance of discipline was bestowed on Zorilda.
As the children advanced they read the same books, they were taught by the same masters, they learned the same accomplishments, but literary or ornamental acquirement is only the surface of education. The foundation of character, such as forms the real distinction between individuals of the human species, must be laid in the heart, and whether a man is the blessing or the curse of that society in which he possesses influence in after life, generally depends upon the practical nature of those views by which his natural propensities are regulated, his vicious tendencies repressed, and every noble, virtuous indication strengthened and encouraged. Profession is not principle; saying is not doing; and the fruits will correspond with the methods pursued in training the youthful mind. Algernon and Zorilda doted on each other, but the former loved himself better than his little companion. He could not endure her absence, but it was because her sweet temper, cheerful acquiescence and inventive talents, increased the measure of his enjoyment by constant study to please, and perpetual variety in the means of amusement. Zorilda's affection on the contrary was unadulterated by the alloy of selfishness. She could not imagine pleasure separate from the happiness of those who were dear to her little heart. Though her childish sports lost all their charm when Algernon did not share them, she would at any moment endeavour to promote his gratification by the sacrifice of her own; and employed her irresistible eloquence in furthering the indulgence of a ride upon the favourite pony at Mr. Hartland's side, which would deprive her of all she valued till the return of her beloved play-fellow from his excursion.
At length arrived the important hour of decision upon the long agitated question of a public school or a private tutor; and the latter was agreed upon. Mr. Playfair's credentials were unexceptionable, and he commenced his course with every prospect of mutual liking. He was a middle-aged man, of pleasing manners, and an excellent scholar; but as he was given to understand that no moral instruction was required at his hands, he soon learned to desist from interfering with a department placed beyond the bounds of his jurisdiction.
"I would not allow any mortal," said Mrs. Hartland, "to supersede me in the pleasing task of forming the mind and manners of my son;" and we have already seen how she was qualified for the work which she determined on executing without substitute or auxiliary.
Algernon wept over the Latin Grammar, and chiefly, because he did not see any one else condemned to the labours which were inflicted on him.
"Why does not Mr. Playfair make Zoé as unhappy as I am, and give her this hard lesson to get by heart?" said the boy, as he sobbed upon his mother's breast.
Zoé was also drowned in tears; but it was because Algernon was afflicted, and her question, urged in the softest tenderest accent, was, "Oh, why may not I learn his lesson? I will then teach it to him."
These two short and simple queries furnish the clue by which to follow the entire labyrinth of these childrens' course. Mr. Playfair, who was charmed with Zorilda's beauty and docility, readily undertook to aid her generous purpose, by becoming her tutor, to which Mrs. Hartland willingly consented; "not that Greek and Latin," said she, "are necessary for a young lady, but as dear Zoé, who in point of fact is nobody, much as we love her, may turn all that we can do for her to future account, she may now be made useful to Algernon as well as herself, by sharing all his labours."
This fiat, though pronounced in an under voice, struck on Zorilda's ear and attention. She was now only six years old, but the remarkable acuteness of her sensibility, as well as understanding, rendered a thousand appeals to both, which were beyond the reach of much older children, comprehensible to her young mind; and the word nobody suffused her expressive countenance with a blush of deepest die. She had often heard the question asked, "Who is she?" "Zoé," was her only reply, and she had never tarried to hear another answer. This nobody perplexed her little heart, and, running into the arms of Mrs. Hartland, she buried her glowing face in the bosom of her protectress.
"What do you mean, dear Mamma? sure Algernon is somebody; and though I am younger, is not Zoé somebody too? we are both your children."
Mrs. Hartland sighed, and, caressing the child, disengaged herself from the tender pressure, while a "Yes, my love," hastily uttered as she left the room, had the effect of brushing away the tear which, at Zoé's age, "is dried as soon as shed."
Mr. Playfair was a man of distinguished learning, but he possessed qualities of much rarer character than scholarship. He was a man of strong sense and deep feeling.
Mrs. Hartland on quitting the room had given him a look of intelligence, which he understood, and following her to another apartment, he listened, for the first time, to the history of Zorilda's introduction at Henbury.
When the story was finished, Mr. Playfair ventured to suggest a hint of future inconvenience from this lovely child's domestication in the family.
"A day will come," added he, "in which the truth must be revealed, and I foresee at least the possibility of great misery and embarrassment."
Selfish people seldom take long views even for themselves, but happily for the rest of mankind, are generally so uncompromising and precipitate in endeavouring to compass their ends, as to put others on their defence, and enable them sometimes to counteract, always to anticipate the bearing of an illiberal spirit, intent on its own exclusive gratification.
Mr. Playfair possessed discrimination, and took in at a glance the entire carte du pays. Though the little Zorilda was affectionately treated at Henbury, he clearly perceived that she would be unrelentingly sacrificed to the interests of ambition, and shaken off without any attention to her feelings whenever a period arrived in which it might be deemed prudent to get rid of her; but she was an unfriended orphan, and to snatch her from present positive good in order to avoid future contingent evil, might perhaps have been scarcely justifiable, even though ability to do so had seconded inclination. In Mr. Playfair's case it was impossible. He had no resources, and was a single man. All that his situation permitted, he determined on contributing for the benefit of his interesting charge, and never were exertions more fully repaid. Zorilda's talents were of the first order, and what is not usual, the solidity of her understanding equalled its extraordinary quickness. She learned with surprising facility, and discovered such a thirst for knowledge, that, never satisfied with superficial glimmerings, she loved to probe the depths of every subject which lay open to her pursuit.
Algernon's sloth bore strict proportion to Zorilda's industry, of which he knew how to reap the profit in a manner most congenial to his taste. Certain of having his exercise written, and his translation parsed by the companion of his studies, before she looked at her own task, he gave himself as little trouble as possible; but, aware that the measure of his idleness must continually depend on that of Zoé's diligence and application, he encouraged in her what he neglected in his own instance, and thus was instrumental in assisting Mr. Playfair's benevolent design of storing the mind of the young unknown against the hour of adversity. Whatever was the subject of instruction, Zorilda's intuitive clearness of perception anticipated the labours of her tutor, and she actually learned faster than he could teach; yet vanity was a stranger to her young heart. Conscious of ignorance, while she sought information, it appeared to her nothing extraordinary that she should understand what the wisdom of others supplied: she transferred all honour to her instructor, and as Mr. Playfair had too sincere an interest in the welfare of his pupil to flatter her, our little heroine passed her early spring of life without guessing that her talents exceeded the common faculties of her fellow-creatures. Algernon breathed, on the contrary, an atmosphere of continual praise, with which his injudicious mother endeavoured to stimulate his progress. The two children might be compared to plants, the one of which put forth its sickly bloom in the artificial soil of a hot-bed; while the other, fanned by the breezes, and fertilized by the dews of heaven, flourished in full luxuriance of natural strength and beauty; but as the gardener, who digs, prunes, trains, and waters, is the only person interested in the gradual unfolding of those "leafy honours," which it is enough for the casual visitor to see fully developed, we shall now draw a curtain over the scene of budding hopes; or, if we may be allowed to conclude our present Chapter with another simile, we will dive like the wild sea bird into the ocean of time, on the surface of which we have been slowly sailing, and hiding beneath the billows for a season, start up anew after a temporary submersion.
CHAPTER VII.
We were as twinned lambs that did frisk i' the sun
And bleat the one at the other: what we changed
Was innocence for innocence. We knew not
The doctrine of ill-doing. No, nor dreamed
That any did.
Winter's Tale.
As we are not shackled by those inconvenient unities which fetter the discursive propensities of the dramatist, binding him to time and place, we have been permitted to take a ramble or a doze as our inclinations prompted, and re-assemble at Henbury, after an interval of some years.
On our return, we are naturally struck with the changes which such a lapse has effected. Many alterations have taken place amongst our old friends in the Hartland family since our last domestication amongst them. On our return we found, it is true, the same dramatis personæ; but the aspect of things was changed. The master of the mansion was the first to appear as we approached his dwelling; and though men of his temperament are remarkable for wearing well, the perennial smile which used to illumine his features with the dead-light of a peat-coal fire, was darkened by a cloud, if not of contemplation, certainly of care, which had destroyed the only redeeming expression of a mindless countenance. He was riding over his farm, with his eyes fixed on vacancy, while he went at a snail's pace, and his horse's bridle lay floating on the pummel of the saddle. We next discovered that Mrs. Hartland was not far off, as we heard her speak before we had the pleasure of seeing her, and learned, on inquiry, that we were not mistaken in our recollection of her voice, though it was now employed in scolding, which was a novelty to our ears.
"Ay," said the gardener, with whom we held some conversation before we were enabled to judge for ourselves, "Missess has taken latterly to thrift, and her eye is every where. We say that, like what is remarked of the Bristol men, she sleeps with one eye open, for nothing escapes her. She is all for the lucre of gain. The family is kept as bare as can be, and she sends off the best of every thing to market. Miss Ferret now supplies the whole country round with Henbury pork, and Henbury fowls, and Henbury cheese, vegetables, fruit, and flowers. Nothing will go down that doesn't come from Henbury; and it is lamentable to see a lady scuffling about early and late, in her thick shoes and rug cloak; battling with every body, and grinding people to powder with her tongue; and all this to puff up pride, by heaping up treasure for him who will not have the heart to spend it as he ought. If it wasn't for that angel, Miss Zoé, who keeps the young Squire in check, he would be just as great a skin-flint as his mother."
Accuracy of observation is not to be measured by refinement of phrase; and though this rough sketch was delivered in coarse language, it was a correct delineation. Mr. Hartland's strictness of economy had grown out of circumstances, the chief amongst which was a decline in the health of Lady Marchdale. Should she die, there was danger that Lord Marchdale would marry again, and thus the remotest chance might be cut off of Algernon's succession to the title and estates of his noble relative. As matters stood, though hope fluttered her golden pinion, and sometimes dazzled the mother's eye, expectation could not be said to live in her breast, for she knew that Lord Marchdale had levied fines, and could alienate his property if he pleased; but he was fond of his name, and her son bore not only that of the family, but the Earl's Christian name in addition; besides, the relation of godfather was something, and the best look-out of all was, that a nobleman so situated might delay making his will; in which case, were he to die intestate, Algernon was next heir after his own father. These were strong points, but not sufficient ground to rest upon, and therefore Mrs. Hartland prudently resolved to act as if the hedge-rows of Henbury formed the extremest horizon of her view. Having taken the lead in her son's education for several years, and perhaps believing that he was quite faultless, she gradually relaxed the severity of her studies, and, ranging the ponderous volumes over which she had pored during many a day upon the shelf, she devoted herself to active concerns, and became so expert in buying and selling, farming and feeding, that every year found a new deposit in the hands of Mr. Fairly, the stock-broker.
"My dear," said Mrs. Hartland to her husband, "we must not depend on accidents. Our duty is to lay up for our child. If he comes to the family title and fortune, well and good; no harm is done, and a nest-egg in the funds is never amiss. If, on the other hand, we are disappointed, Algernon may still hold up his head amongst our neighbours, if we scrape together our pence, and live as we ought to do."
Mr. Hartland nodded assent, and the screwing system commenced, not, however, without a keen eye to appearances, which were to be observed so as to maintain a show of gentility suited to prospective contingencies. The warm, broad, laughing fire was exchanged for the sullen brasier or the sulphurous stove; and though Mr. Playfair more than once reminded Mrs. Hartland of the anecdote of Alexander and Diogenes, she contrived to exclude the brightness of the sun, along with the caloric of his beams, from affording compensation for the deficiency of coals, by blocking up half the windows in the house, to avoid the tax upon daylight. The form of two courses certainly graced the table; but in the first, the smoking joint had given way to scraps and messes dished up nobody knew how, or from what material, while never-ending Jerusalem artichokes, skerrets, and celery, played an unfailing part in furnishing the second. We were assured that Mrs. Hartland's parsimony had even descended to mixing the wines with water, before they were put down after dinner.
But where were the young people, and how had time dealt with them? The old lord of the scythe and hour-glass had performed the promise which, during their infancy, he made to each. Algernon, who had reached his nineteenth year, was strikingly handsome. Nearly six feet in height, he had nothing of the awkwardness which usually marks that age; but presented the appearance of full-grown five-and-twenty. Algernon was, however, still the same indolent and selfish being of our former acquaintance. He had imbibed just enough of knowledge and acquirement to shew how much more he might have attained, and possessed abilities capable of far higher cultivation than he could be prevailed upon to employ; but self was the deity of his worship, and we need say no more of him.
Of Zorilda—what words can be found to convey an adequate idea of her perfections? She had numbered nearly seventeen years, and in face and figure exhibited a model of female loveliness. The exquisite beauty of her form, the natural grace of every movement, and the penetrating sensibility of her countenance, would have rivetted all beholders, even though her features had wanted that symmetry which is requisite to charm the artist's eye; but Zorilda might have defied the painter's skill to find a fault in the proportions of her face, and that face bespoke the soul which dwelt within, and was worthy of such a casket to contain such a gem. Never did imagination create a more delightful fiction than was realized in the person of the youthful Spaniard. Was it wonderful, then, that all who looked upon her, saw and loved?
For two young people to have lived from infancy together without having ascertained that they were not related to each other by even the remotest tie of consanguinity, would be ridiculous to suppose, and was not the fact, though Mr. and Mrs. Hartland had been silent, and ordered their household to abstain from any communication which might destroy the illusion of brother and sister, which, if established into habitual belief, might never be questioned, and prevent the growth of those sentiments which the anxious parents at last dreaded to anticipate. Blinded by her wishes, as well as natural presumption, Mrs. Hartland had long refused to open her eyes to the possible consequences of her imprudent conduct, in domesticating her only son with the most attractive of her sex, unless she desired a union between them. She saw nothing but the accomplishment of her own views in any arrangement; and even after the warning voice of Mr. Playfair had put her on her guard, thought it only necessary to employ an increased reserve upon the topic of Zoé's origin, to secure against an unfortunate result, and continue to Algernon the happiness of companionship, without endangering his future repose.
"Should a time ever arrive," said the coarse-grained Mrs. Hartland, "when it may become requisite to take stronger measures, it is only necessary to tell Algernon the truth. My son will never disgrace himself by alliance with a gipsey. We can remove Zoé at any time, as I say, Mr. Playfair. I appeal to you, rather than Mr. Hartland, on this point, because he is absurdly fond of the girl, and I often tell him that I am certain he loves that enfant trouvé better than his own flesh and blood."
"If he did not love his ward," replied Mr. Playfair, "he would be less than human. Every body loves her, and when she is called hence amongst her kindred of the skies, the angels will greet her, not as a stranger, but beloved companion, who had been detached from the heavenly ranks for a season, to teach earth better things than mortals could have learned without her. Madam, you know my opinion; I have often told you that the young people are bound in cords of affection for each other, which it will be a heart-break to dissever. Your son may not suffer much; the world lies before him; he will soon go to the University, and find new friends as well as amusements; but not so the gentle, the tender Zorilda, of whose happiness you seem to make small account. May I ask what are your intentions respecting her? She is already a woman in growth, and her acquirements would do honour to any age; believe me, the danger increases daily, and an indissoluble engagement may bind your son in chains, which having forged yourself, you could not desire him to break; you would not have him act dishonourably, and sully his name for ever in the eyes of virtue and delicacy."
"Nonsense! Mr. Playfair," said Mrs. Hartland, with vehemence, "virtue and delicacy indeed! There would be much of these fine qualities required to make me keep my temper, if I feared the fulfilment of your prediction. I must say that, after so many years passed in my family, I might naturally expect that you would enter a little more into the feelings of a mother, and the interests of our house; but truly, gratitude is a rare return now-a-days for the most valuable friendship. I cannot conceive why you should not see the impossibility of a marriage between Algernon, the stay, the support, I may surely add, the heir apparent, of a noble house, and an orphan out-cast. Who is Zorilda?"
Mr. Playfair's cheek burned with honest indignation, but he determined to control himself, and calmly replied:—
"The period of our separation. Madam, is drawing near, and I do not wish to embitter the last moments of sojournment under your roof by useless inquiries into the measure of my gratitude. For kindness I am always acknowledging, but if you allude to my pecuniary obligations, which if I mistake not, take the lead in your estimate of favours conferred, I must beg leave to observe that I have dearly earned my salary as tutor to your son, and may perhaps be presumptuous enough to think that, on casting up the amount of mutual benefit, the balance of debt may lie against you. But we were talking of a worthier theme; you inquire of me, Who is Zorilda? I am sure if you who introduced her here are ignorant of her birth and parentage, it would be difficult for me to have discovered them. I can only say that whoever her parents may be, they are enviable as having given being to such a creature, and pitiable for having lost her. The only particle of rebellion in her whole soul against the wisdom of that Providence to which she bows in all things else with meek submission, may be traced in the anguish which she endures on the score of her mysterious history. Her suspicions have been long confirmed. She knows that she is not your child, and is likewise aware of the obscure destiny from which she was redeemed, through a money price paid by you. 'Alas!' she often exclaims to me, 'what have I done to deserve this cruel punishment? Am I one of those who fall under condemnation for the sins of their forefathers? Why am I a cast-away? Is it like the abundant mercy of a gracious God, who sendeth rain on the just and the unjust with prodigal bounty, thus to visit a guiltless being so severely? Death would be preferable to this brand of disgrace. It is like the mark set upon Cain, and shame overwhelms me when I think of my lot. Yes, dear Mr. Playfair, there is a worm which dieth not, gnawing incessantly at my heart's core.'
"In this way, Madam, does Zorilda pour out her grief to me. You know nothing of it, for she thinks it her duty not to broach a subject which you have never touched upon with her. She is wretched as she is lovely and virtuous! Spare her, I conjure you, and let not her feelings be wounded; you may have to answer for her life. When I leave Henbury, I may be able to devise some scheme for the future. I have a sister who lives in Switzerland, and I will——"
Just as Mr. Playfair uttered these words, the door opened, and Zorilda entered the room, radiant with bloom, such as the breath of morn dapples on the velvet cheek of youth. Her long dark eye-lashes were moistened by a tear, and looked like the silky grass which waves on the streamlet's verge before the sun has smiled away the dew-drop which glitters through its graceful fringes, while with light and gentle step she pressed forward to Mrs. Hartland, holding in her hand a bunch of half-blown roses.
"Here is my first offering from the little tree which Algernon brought me last year, from Marchdale Court; I have kept it secret to surprise dear Mamma."
It was an unlucky moment, and the association of ideas produced by the few words which Zorilda had spoken, was at that instant peculiarly unfortunate. Mrs. Hartland forced a reluctant smile, accompanying a frigid "Thank you," which chilled Zoé to the heart.
"What is the matter, dearest Mamma? are you ill? or has any thing happened to displease you?"
"Do not tease me, Zoé; I was speaking on business of importance with Mr. Playfair; and, my dear, you are growing too old to say Mamma. I wish that you would begin to call me Mrs. Hartland."
Zorilda had an intuitive delicacy of character which gave her sufficient command over her feelings to prevent a scene. Mrs. Hartland was too unlike her in almost every respect to have ever been the friend of her choice; but she was the only one who had occupied the place of Mother to her, and her whole soul was formed to gratitude and affection; but she had now for the first time experienced repulse, and minds of sensibility do not require to be told what misery may be inflicted on a confiding spirit, by the rejection of its tender sympathies. Zorilda was stung to the quick, but restraining every expression of excitement, she glided hastily from the apartment, carrying with her the unwelcome flowers, which she perceived afforded no gratification.
Without stopping to be informed whether Algernon had returned from his ride, Zorilda flew to an arbour of acacias at some distance from the house, and throwing herself upon a rustic seat, beneath its shade, gave vent to a full tide of sorrow. When the oppression of her bosom was in some measure relieved, she knelt down, and clasping her hands with uplifted energy of supplication, prayed for fortitude to bear the ills which seemed impending. The Divine aid is never asked in vain, and Zorilda rose strengthened by the fervency of her petition. Her soul was soothed and tranquillized, and she thanked the Almighty for a friend who had in some degree prepared her for events which she now perceived in prospect.
"Yes! Mr. Playfair has sometimes almost appeared unkind, in dwelling on my misfortunes, and prophecying this evil hour, when I should no longer be loved by the protectors of my youth. How should they love a purchased stranger? The sad truth is now revealed. While yet children, our infant sports caused no uneasiness, and we enjoyed happiness unmixed with care. We are children no longer, and I am not wanted here. The unknown Zorilda, the wandering gipsey, the dependent orphan, is not considered meet companion for Algernon, advanced to manhood. What shall I do? I must quit the asylum of my youth, the loved partner of my playful hours, the venerable instructor of my early days, and remove this weight of anxiety from the breast of my benefactress."
"Never!" exclaimed Algernon, who, rushing impetuously into the arbour, caught Zorilda in his arms. "What means this emotion? Zoé, you must be my wife, and then you shall stay here as in your natural home. In the mean time leave it all to me. You know my influence with my mother; I will come to the bottom of these whims, and you shall hear no more of them."
"Speak not disrespectfully of your mother, Algernon; she is right, we should either of us perhaps pursue the same course were we in her situation. She once said that I was "nobody." All ask "Who is she?" to which painful question there is no answer to be given; and why should I delude myself any more. I thought the world was kind because every one caressed me, but when they did so I was a mere plaything. Those who once cherished are now ashamed of me, and this is what I can never bear. Mr. Playfair has taught me many things, and your mother (oh! must I never again call her mine) has not neglected to make me useful. I will earn my bread, and be a willing sacrifice if my departure can restore the peace which I have disturbed."
Algernon, though spoiled by indulgence, and rendered vain by flattery, was as yet uncorrupted by the cold maxims of worldly wisdom, and loved Zorilda with all the devotion of which a narrow soul was capable. She was the confidant of all his pains and pleasures. In her society the former were always mitigated, the latter constantly enhanced. He had gazed upon her beautiful countenance, which reflected every ray that cheered or cloud that darkened his own from infancy to youth; and he could not realize to his mind the possibility of a separation from a being so habitually necessary to his comfort.
"I will threaten my mother to shoot myself if she plagues you any more," vociferated Algernon; and before the gentle Zoé could reply, he darted from the arbour and ran to seek his agitated parent; while Zorilda bent her steps towards a walk where she thought it likely that she should meet Mr. Playfair, in which hope she was not disappointed. A conversation with him was always sure to give her comfort; and never had she so much needed the balm of kindness as on the present occasion. Zorilda wept with bitterness as she expressed her grief and surprize at the altered tone of Mrs. Hartland, and an impatient desire to sacrifice every consideration to that of removing a source of disquietude from her breast.
"Softly, my dear child," said Mr. Playfair, as he kindly pressed the hand of his pupil. "We must not allow ourselves to act on mere impulses, however amiable. There are picturesque sorrows which must not be allowed to tempt us out of the broad high way of a sober march. We must not talk of victims and sacrifices, altars and shrines. Though I know your heart, and how sincere are your wishes to promote the happiness of others, even to the forgetfulness of your own, I cannot permit you to be romantic. There is a vanity in heroic deeds which dims the purity of action. My dear Zoé will act, I trust, in all things with a single purpose, and that purpose is to endeavour at the performance of duty, the most difficult part of which, in morals as in the field of war, is to forbear. Your path is sown with thorns, but I have often warned you against repining. Believe and trust, pray to Him who alone appoints the issue of events, for patience to submit. You cannot see why you are thus grieved—you do not understand why you are a nameless, solitary, insulated being, unknown, unclaimed, unconnected; while all whom you see around are encircled in the social bands of fond relationship. You do not behold the end. A day may come in which you shall be suffered to comprehend the mysteries which now obscure your sight; or, should it not please God to send a lamp to your feet, you may learn to bless the darkness by which you are enveloped, and rejoice in that uncertainty which you now consider your greatest misfortune. You must not leave Henbury. Mrs. Hartland is bound to protect you, and will do so. You will correspond with me, and I will watch your interests with an anxious eye."
The ingenuous Zorilda confessed that some pride and impetuosity were perhaps mingled with better feelings, in her hasty resolution to quit the friends of her youth; and promising implicit acquiescence in her Mentor's advice, prepared to return to the house. In her way thither she met Algernon, who hastened to inform her that he had settled every thing with his mother. "I told her fairly that I would never marry any one but you; and that unless she chose to quarrel with me, she must behave as she used to do in former times towards you. You know that I can do any thing with my mother, and therefore you need not fret yourself any more. Do dry your eyes, for I hate to see you in this deplorable state. Come and feed the pheasants, I have not been to visit them to day."
The disinterestedness of a noble mind attributes its own qualities to every other, and Zorilda could perceive no motive in Algernon's conduct at any time which would not have actuated her own in a similar situation. She thanked him affectionately, but, gently rebuking him for not speaking more kindly of his mother, added,
"You vex her I am sure by talking of marrying. You and I are very young; we cannot see into futurity. I do not like engagements that bind one to do what perhaps the free heart might reject at an after-time. You are going away, and will find new pleasures in the world, and of which you never dreamed before. You will not, it may be, always think of poor Zoé as you do now, and I could not be satisfied with the cold performance of a vow. I shall never love any beside Algernon, but you must be free."
Zorilda's tears gushed afresh as she uttered these words; to which her youthful lover impatiently replied,
"You know, Zoé, that I have no taste for this larmoyante mood; I love the laughing philosophers; they are the only true ones after all. Tottham, our bailiff, told me lately that my godfather cannot live long. When he dies my father succeeds to a certainty. Then I shall be Lord Hautonville, with the higher title of Marchdale in prospect; and may do what I please. Now I please to marry you, and let me hear what is to prevent me from following my inclination."
Zoé sighed. "Dear Algernon, I do not love to build a life of happiness upon the death of friends. I love you as you are, and do not like the titles in your family half so well as your own pretty name. Besides, I am sure from what Mr. Playfair says of the world, that I should never enjoy its gay pageants. I would rather feed our gold and silver pheasants than see myself decorated with all the jewels which you often tell me shall one day be mine."
"You will not always think so," replied Algernon; "and I should be sorry if you did. Nothing, it is said, is more annoying to a man of fashion than a rustic wife who does not know her situation."
"Alas!" said the artless Zoé, "I do not like the only specimen of high life that I have seen amongst young men, and ever since you and the Marquess of Turnstock have taken so many rides together, you have picked up several new notions unlike your former self. I wish that his Lordship would go away, and leave our sober country."
"That he will not do till the shooting season is over," answered Algernon; "and I can tell you, that our acquaintance is only in the bud. He is an Oxford man, and I expect that we shall be much together. Here comes my mother. She has made me promise not to call you my wife, nor talk any more of our marriage in her presence. So upon the principle of 'any thing for a quiet life,' I shall indulge her during my short remaining stay, and she will be all civility and good-humour with you. Are you not much obliged to me?"
Zorilda sighed again. Mrs. Hartland came up; took her son's arm; discovered that some overhanging branches required lopping, and sent Zorilda off with affected unconstraint to call the gardener, and see the job executed.
Mrs. Hartland now felt that her innocent ward was a grievous encumbrance, but she rejoiced to see her son attach himself con amore to the society of the young nobleman of whom we have made mention, and who had lately come to pay a visit in the neighbourhood of Henbury.
"Mr. Playfair is right," said she to herself, as she soliloquized on this subject, which now absorbed all her thoughts: "I ought not to take this thing to heart. Opposition only rivets faster whatever we resist in a young mind, and matters which are often spoiled by our interference, would rectify themselves if we let them alone. Algernon will be cured of his first love by the sight of newer faces, and I am resolved to give a hint to Lord Turnstock, to serve as a cue hereafter, for ridiculing low matches, in the presence of my dear boy, who will grow wise in time. Poor Zoé is useful to me, and I should certainly lose a great deal by giving her up, besides appearing cruel and capricious. No, no; all will come about in the end, and a little flirtation in early life never leaves lasting impression, now that the days of romance have vanished. My sister Gordon too, is a valuable corps de reserve. She will come to visit me ere long, and will dote on Zorilda, who is just formed in the very mould for her. I will not torment myself: 'All's well that ends well.'"
With the help of these reflections Mrs. Hartland allayed the ferment of her temper, and went to give orders that due preparation should be made for the Marquess, who was invited to dine at Henbury, by way of securing his future friendship for the Oxonian elect. How comically do people in middling life deceive themselves respecting the nature of an occasional intercourse with the great! A hum-drum pair, in a remote situation, ransack the entire district to get up a dull dinner at enormous cost; and the noble stranger, for whom this unusual expense is incurred, does penance for a banquet which is supposed to be as fine a thing in his eyes as in those of his unpractised entertainers, and to create a sense of obligation never to be forgotten. The Marquess of Turnstock was precisely one of those young men of fashion who consider their presence ample requital for a lavish expenditure of the best viands, and the choicest wines; and as the country afforded little variety, an invitation from the Hartlands arrived seasonably enough in aid of killing a day. A cook was sent for to the county town; and fish, flesh, and fowls, in accredited rotation, were provided from all quarters. The Marquess brought three or four gentlemen, who were, he said, "brother sportsmen," along with him; and Mrs. Hartland expressed herself as particularly gratified with this indication of his desire to cultivate an intimacy with her son. "It was such an easy friendly act, and shewed how completely his Lordship felt at home" that she augured every thing from such a beginning.
Zorilda entreated leave to absent herself from the dinner table, to which Mrs. Hartland at first objected, from a secret hope that some one of the strangers might be captivated by her beauty, but was prevailed upon to acquiesce, from an irresistible argument, that the eye of her protegée might be advantageously employed behind the scenes, in marshalling the servants, and regulating affairs in a house unaccustomed, generally speaking, to any other than a plain family dinner.
Few motives are altogether unmixed. Zorilda's private incentive on the present occasion was to evade the awkwardness, which till of late had never been practically distressing to her feelings, of having no name. "The little gipsey," "The Spanish girl," passed lightly over her ear at an early period, but now planted a dagger in her heart; and she courted solitude, flying from the presence of even a casual guest. Mrs. Hartland, however, would not dispense with Zoé's company at the tea-table, at which she was obliged to preside; but as the gentlemen were not aware that any metal more attractive than the society of Mrs. Hartland awaited them in the drawing-room, they were slow in making their appearance; and when they did leave the dining parlour, some of the party were certainly not the best society themselves. Elate with wine, they talked and laughed on their way up stairs, in full demonstration of having sacrificed too devoutly at the shrine of the rosy god; but when the drawing-room door was opened, and Zorilda, glowing with modest loveliness, met their astonished view, their boisterous mirth received a sudden check, and they all seemed to feel simultaneously, "how awful beauty is."
The Marquess and his satellite wassailers, were struck with amazement at sight of the vision which now presented itself to their eyes, and appeared instinctively to avoid the tea-table at which she sat. A sort of general introduction took place, in which no name, except that of the Marquess, was distinctly heard; while Mr. Playfair, who had protracted his sitting below stairs, in order to act, as far as hospitality would permit, as a buff-stop on the festive gaiety of his pupil, took his station on one side of Zorilda, and Mr. Hartland took possession of a chair on the other. Well pleased to find herself thus guarded, the timid Zoé smiled sweetly on her supporters, and proceeded to perform the mysteries of tea and coffee as priestess of the rites.
The reader is not to understand that our guests were inebriated. That expression conveys too strong a meaning. "Flushed with the Tuscan grape," they were still compos, and after a short pause the rumble of conversation, like that of a mill-wheel, was heard again to succeed a temporary suspension.
"My friend Forbes, Mrs. Hartland," said Lord Turnstock, "is an Irishman, and we have been bantering him on his country. I was just making these gentlemen laugh with the story of an old woman who came to me some time ago requesting my interference to prevent her grandson, who had enlisted, from being sent to the Island of Saints with his regiment. 'Oh my Lord,' said she, 'I shall never see my poor boy again. They says as how that the Romans are all romancing so furious in Hireland.' Was'nt it excellent?"
Mrs. Hartland laughed heartily, and Mr. Forbes, a very handsome fine young man, stepped forward, still addressing her as Chairman of the Committee in defence of his native Erin:
"I can allow them to amuse themselves, Mrs. Hartland," said the young Hibernian. "I grant that amongst vulgar people the peculiar tone of my country, which you may have heard called brogue, is not harmonious, but I would fight it against your Somersetshire, Lancashire, or Cornish dialects, any day in the year; and as for Irish character, it stands too high to need my championship. Whether I turn my eyes to the cabinet or the field, whether I contemplate scholarship or divinity, powers of penmanship or conversation, I find myself standing on such exalted ground that I can endure the merriment of his Lordship with the calm dignity of a lion, round whose head the harmless fly is humming. He shall divert himself as much as he likes with the Anglo-Irish, provided he sets his hand and seal to the truth of my statement."
"You are too strong to need his Lordship's vote," said Mr. Playfair; "you have no occasion to solicit, you may command assent; at least this is not the age for triumph over you. Whichever way we turn Irishmen meet our eyes in the first situations of the state; and as to the fair daughters of your Emerald Isle——"
"In this company I withdraw their claim," answered Mr. Forbes; "at least I am forced to be modest in asserting it."
Zorilda coloured violently; and the Marquess, apparently apprehensive of not being considered first actor in the scene, looked at his watch, and ringing the bell, ordered his carriage, which was in fact already at the door; then apologizing for the lateness of the hour to which he had been detained by agreeable society, a general leave taking succeeded, and the guests departed without having exchanged three words with her who had excited all their curiosity.
"Who is that magnificent girl, Hartland?" said the Marquess, as he reached the hall door, and got rid of the civilities of his elder host, who stuck closely to his side all the way down stairs.
"Where was she during dinner-time?" inquired Mr. Forbes.
"Why did you not apprize us of this rural divinity?" asked young Cecil; "I should gladly have paid her an earlier homage."
As these questions were put all in a breath, Algernon contrived to evade them; and in the bustle of calling for hats, gloves, &c. they were never answered. "She can hardly be a sister of Hartland's, she is so unlike the family," said Lord Turnstock. "I wonder you none of you asked her name." "One would imagine that she has not any name," replied one of his companions; "probably the truth is, that this country belle is affianced to the heir apparent of Henbury, and the youth is an Othello. I saw him frown like Jupiter while we gazed at his beloved; and I am sure that the fellow will dream to-night of rope-ladders, post chaises and four, elopements, and the blacksmith of Gretna Green."
The Marquess laughed, and fell asleep. Some of his associates followed his example, and thought no more of Zorilda till they reached Thornton Abbey; but Cecil and Forbes were not of the number.
"Did you hear the servants say who that young lady is whom I saw at Mr. Hartland's?" said his Lordship to his valet when he retired to his bed-chamber.
"No, my Lord, I took no notice, except that I recollect somebody said that a Virginia nightingale, which I saw in a cage, belonged to Miss Zoé, or some such name; perhaps she may be the young lady that your Lordship means."
"Aye i'faith, she is worthy of a Grecian appellation," muttered the Marquess, as his servant went out of the room. "This fair incognita is certainly an exotic, and the banks of the Ilissus may have given her birth. She would make a noise in London, there is no doubt of that." With this sentence the young Nobleman concluded his meditations; and having desired to be called betimes to go upon a shooting expedition, consigned himself to repose. The morning brought its own pursuits, and Zorilda was either effaced from memory, or so little was elicited respecting her that inquiry ceased, and the party at Thornton Abbey dispersed in all directions.
The present age is one of too much refinement for trouble of any kind; and we have long been spared the slavish toil of thinking for ourselves. We talk indeed of free-thinkers, and make an unusual stir about liberty of opinion; but that is a façon de parler which satisfies, while in reality we are more completely led than at any former period of the world. "Whatever facilitates weakens." The human mind is strengthened by labour; and now that we have grown too polished to work, we cannot look for strong judgment; consequently individuality is not the character of our time, and we are accustomed to praise or abuse en masse. Zorilda with a title would have set the capital on fire, and filled every eye and tongue; but Zorilda, untrumpeted, unknown, was soon forgotten. Name is everything; whether of player or preacher, beauty or book, a fashionable paper or review sounds the key note, and the chorus is universal.
Preparations were now advancing at Henbury for Algernon's departure to Oxford; and the desolation of Zoé's heart may be more easily imagined than described. To lose the beloved companion of her life, her more than self, seemed wretchedness enough for mortal lot; but in parting with Mr. Playfair too, she was deprived of the only solace which might have remained in her affliction, namely, that of talking over the subject of it with a true friend. Mr. Hartland was good-natured, and had always been affectionate in his bearing; but there was "no speculation in his eye," no intelligence in his mind. He was a mere recipient, and too dull even to reflect with vividness the thoughts of another. With Mrs. Hartland, Zorilda had ceased to communicate, except on household affairs.
Young and shrinking sensibility, like the opening rose, will only diffuse its fragrance while we refrain from rudely touching its delicate fabric; once decompose the tender structure by unhallowed finger, and no skill of chemic art can restore its organization.
The dread hour arrived, and Zorilda, convulsed with grief, saw the gate close upon all that she best loved on earth.
CHAPTER VIII.
——"I'm sorry
That he approves the common liar, Fame,
Who speaks him thus at Rome."
Shakspeare.
How wisely, how mercifully is the future hidden from our view! Who could bear to look into the book of fate, and see the blighted hopes, the unfulfilled expectations, which await all human dreamers? But though ever ready with sufficient vain glory to refer each prosperous issue to our own prudence and sagacity, we cautiously avoid to charge ourselves with the least co-operation in unfortunate results. Success constitutes the hero, and it is with the triumphant only that we desire to identify ourselves.
Algernon was now sent forth to make his debut in society, and we shall see how strictly his progress coincides with the previous training of his mind.
He loved Zorilda with as much fervour as his nature would permit, and therefore his tears flowed in copious stream as he bid her farewell. Poor Mrs. Hartland ascribed the grief of her son to his separation from her maternal arms. She loved him with entireness of senseless devotion, and fondly flattered herself that she was in return the principal object of his affections. "Dear boy, he will in vain look round for his indulgent mother," sobbed the afflicted parent; but even the love of Zorilda, which was by far the most powerful impression on Algernon's heart, did not long exclude the joy which gained upon his short-lived sorrow with every mile of increasing distance from Henbury. He was going to be his own master in a wider sense than he had ever experienced. He might do as he pleased. Mr. Playfair's vigilant eye would no longer watch every movement, and he should meet again with the associates whose short sojournment in the neighbourhood of his father's house had given him so much pleasure, besides forming many other similar acquaintances. It was not Algernon's design from the first to distinguish himself in any kind of scholarship. The assiduity of his tutor had done something, but even the best talents will not achieve learning unaccompanied by application. Young Hartland intended to render his college course as little irksome as possible, and possessed the means of realizing his views. There is no description of person, generally speaking, so well supplied with money as an only son of a private family, in whom, as the sole object of pride and solicitude, all parental effort is concentrated.
While the young nobleman issues forth depending on his title, and frequently on that alone for consideration; the child, it may be, of a half ruined house, hemmed in on every side by mortgages and bonds, and relying on Jewish facilities of accommodation for keeping up the present ball, to the destruction of future competency; the son and heir of middle life sets out with purse well lined. He has no "lordship" with which to gild poverty, but must pay his way, and transfer to his pocket the popularity which he is not provided with any other secret for securing to his person. Algernon was plentifully supplied, and as soon as he found himself unrestrained by the expostulations of Mr. Playfair, he began to spend so lavishly that his rooms were soon the favourite lounge, and he found his acquaintance universally courted. His vanity was flattered, and he never suspected the reality of the case, but gave into the delusive belief that he was sought after for his agreeable qualifications. He wrote letters to his mother which delighted her. They spoke of viscounts, earls, and marquesses, as the familiar companions of his hours; and generally concluded with reminding her that such excellent society as it was his good fortune to have got into, had only one counteracting evil attending on its pleasures, which was expense.
"How considerate is our dear fellow!" said Mrs. Hartland; "but he must not be fettered by too rigid an economy in the opening scene. Frugality, if necessary, may come hereafter; but first impressions are of the highest importance, and the most useful connections are often made in school and college days. A private education has hitherto deprived my son of this advantage, and it is therefore doubly requisite to stretch a point at present, and supply him liberally. I have foreseen all this, and laid by a little preserve. We may pinch at home, and ought to do so, that we may not be said to burn our candle at both ends; but our boy must be enabled to hold up his head amongst the best of them."
Mr. Hartland groaned assent, and the amiable Zoé rejoiced in an opportunity of contributing her mite to Algernon's comfort at Oxford, by courting all sorts of privation at Henbury during his absence.
It is not surprising that an outfit regulated by these principles, inspired a belief of riches, and obtained for the freshman such a reputation for affluence that he was surrounded at once as a honey-pot is by flies; while credulity supports the illusion from one generation to another, that a titled herd collected by such means, are to be the props of after life, compensating by future patronage for the loss of independence incurred in the pursuit of their friendship. The bubble bursts, the gull is undeceived, but as experience seldom rectifies the confidence of hope, a few exceptions are always sufficient to make men reject the general rule, and expect to find themselves added to the "glorious minority" of fortune's favoured exceptions. Alas! the prizes are few, and the blanks are many in the lottery of life, and those are the wisest who speculate the least on lucky chances.
Algernon was quickly initiated, and became the soul and centre of every scheme which had pleasure for its aim and object. He gave the best champagne, pulled the best oar, rode the best horse, was always ready to take up a bet, or accept a boxing challenge, and wasted twice as much money as any one else thought of expending, in whatever was the amusement of the day; seeming to render compensation to himself for the long fast which he had undergone, by devouring pleasure not only with a knife and fork, but a spoon to boot. He wrote frequently to Zorilda, and received letters from her in return.
Mrs. Hartland fretted at the correspondence, but had encouraged her son in the habit of assuming authority to such a degree, that she feared to resist his will; and was obliged to tolerate what she had lost all power to control.
Algernon's letters were at first filled with wishes and laments; the pain of parting; the joy of re-union; interspersed with animated accounts of new scenes and associates. After a time he became less punctual, and proposed that Zoé should not balance too strictly the debtor and creditor sides of their correspondence, but write without waiting for replies, alleging occupation at his studies as a cause for the request. Whatever Algernon suggested was right in Zoé's opinion, and as she was only called on to renounce a self-indulgence, though the greatest which she could enjoy while separated from her friend, she acquiesced without a murmur, though not without a sigh.
A longer silence than usual occurred, and Zoé could not sleep from agitation, fearing that indisposition might occasion the delay. At last the often-wished-for packet arrived; but though well filled, and giving details of what Algernon called "pleasant parties," it was the least satisfactory which Zorilda had ever received. She read it over and over, yet was less pleased at each re-perusal. We shall give our readers an opportunity of trying how far they sympathize with poor Zoé's feelings, by transcribing this letter as a specimen of our young Oxonian's improvement since he quitted home:
"Dearest Zoé,
"I am guilty of a long pause, and you are very angry; but you little know how my time is taken up. We have had several rowing matches, and I have been taking lessons from some of the fancy. Every day confirms the disagreeable conviction that I am half a century behind my contemporaries. What a cursed folly it is not to send boys to a public school! If I had been despatched to Eton instead of having been tied to my mother's apron-string all my days, I should not have everything to learn, as is my case at present. However, they say I am an apt scholar, and I do not despair of being soon up with the best of them here.
"The little Marquess did not return till ten days ago. He received me quite like a brother, and we are a great deal together. He says he should not know me again, I have lost so much of the 'country bumpkin' already. By the bye, we had a very pleasant party at his rooms the other night, but you cannot imagine how foolish I was made to look, about you.
"I wish to heaven you had a name, for it is quite confounding to be asked at every turn, 'Who is she?' without being able to get rid of farther inquiry, by such a simple answer as can be given of every body except yourself from the royal family down to one's washerwoman. If I knew the name of the gipsey from whom my good papa and mamma ran away with you, I would call you after her; but I assure you that rather than encounter another such attack as I have endured in your service, I shall christen you, so prepare for being called Miss Hazlemoor, or Moor, if you like the monosyllable better, on the principle of the old song which Rachael sings, with a line in it something like this following:
"For the least said, the sooner amended;"
and amended it will all be one of these days, when I marry you. It will little signify when you are my wife—perchance a titled one—what name you were known by before. Do not be cast down, my pretty Zo. I have promised, you know, to raise you from your present obscurity, and I can tell you, it is no small proof of my love, that I do not mean to forget my engagement; but I must tell you how they fell upon me the other night.
"Turnstock gave champagne, and some five or six assembled by appointment at his rooms. We were going on very gaily, when my evil genius put it into the Marquess's head to turn shortly round, and say to me, 'Hartland, who the devil is that fair enchantress whom your mother has got cooped up at Henbury; not your sister, I presume, eh?'
"Unprepared for the question, I was completely at a nonplus, and losing all presence of mind, I hummed, and hawed, and stammered out—Zorilda.
"'A fine romantic appellation truly,' said his Lordship; 'Donna Zorilda! but to what noble house does she belong?'