L I B HARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
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 OF ILLINOIS 
 
 8£3 
 
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 WEDDED LIFE 
 
 IN THE UPPER RANKS. 
 
 THE WIFE AND FRIENDS, 
 
 AXD 
 
 THE MARRIED MAN. 
 
 One half of the world knows not how the other lives. 
 
 Old Pbovf.ri 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 HENRY COLBURN AND RICHARD BENTLEY, 
 NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 
 1831.
 
 
 r.uNDON : 
 
 PRINTED BY SAMUEL BF.NTIEY, 
 
 Dorset-street, Fleet-street.
 
 THE 
 
 WIFE AND FRIENDS. 
 
 On est bien heureux, quand on veut se marier, que ce 
 soit par raison : meme quand l'aversion y seroit, je crois 
 que Ton s'en aime d'avantage aprbs. 
 
 , MEMOIRES DE MADLLE. DE MONTPENSIER. 
 
 Tis safest in matrimony to begin with a little aversion. 
 
 THE RIVALS. 
 
 "^ 
 
 HSlSb
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/weddedlifeinuppe01lond
 
 THE 
 
 WIFE AND FRIENDS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Maky people, having no temptation 
 to do wrong, pass through life blame- 
 lessly, and even with the outward form 
 of virtue. How such would act under 
 contrary circumstances, can be mere 
 matter of speculation. Of this descrip- 
 tion of persons were Mr. and Mrs. Mon- 
 tagu. By their equals, they were rather 
 liked ; by their inferiors, not objected 
 to ; and by one human being, beloved. 
 This solitary feeling of affection towards 
 VOL. 1. B
 
 2 THE WIFE AND 
 
 them dwelt in the bosom of their only 
 child, who, to do them justice, they loved 
 in return, as well as they were capable 
 of liking any thing, but not near so 
 much as he deserved ; for in person, 
 mind, and heart, few, at the early age of 
 fifteen, could be compared to Caroline 
 Montagu. 
 
 On their parental affection, Mr. and 
 Mrs. Montagu prided themselves : con- 
 sequently, their daughter had the most 
 expensive masters, the most expensive 
 dresses, the most expensive governess ; 
 which last, by good luck, — for had it 
 been otherwise, her employers would 
 never have found it out, — was not only 
 a well-educated, but a well- principled 
 woman. But even in worldly matters, 
 Mr. Montagu's affection for his daughter 
 might have been carried rather farther 
 than the particulars named. His fortune 
 was large ; but proceeding from a landed
 
 THE FRIENDS. 3 
 
 estate, strictly entailed on the male heir, 
 and not devoid of incumbrances, of which 
 same burthens Mr. Montagu was in the an- 
 nual habit of assisting in the accumulation, 
 notwithstanding such extravagance must, 
 in the end, incapacitate him from mak- 
 ing the slightest provision for his daugh- 
 ter. Mr. Montagu reasoned thus upon 
 the subject : " My daughter will be 
 handsome, and marry well : I am in the 
 prime of life, and shall live many years." 
 So Mr. Montagu, puffed up with 
 worldly pride, reasoned and acted ; but 
 his days were numbered. An accident, 
 on a shooting party, cut him off in the 
 flower of his days. His wife, a woman 
 of weak spirits and delicate health, soon 
 followed; grief for his loss was the al- 
 leged cause; but as in that of her hus- 
 band was also included the loss of conse- 
 quence, wealth, protection, and power, 
 the undivided claim to the honour of his 
 B 2
 
 4 THE WIFE AND 
 
 wife's despair and death could hardly be 
 claimed by Mr. Montagu. 
 
 The death of her parents left Caroline, 
 when little more than fifteen years of 
 age, penniless, and, but for the kindness 
 of one human being, friendless : this be- 
 nevolent friend was the Countess of De- 
 lamore. Distantly related to Mr. Mon- 
 tagu, she had ever taken an interest in 
 his family, little thinking that her friend- 
 ship could ever aught avail to the daugh- 
 ter of one twenty years her junior. The 
 course of events proved far otherwise ; 
 and Caroline Montagu became the adopt- 
 ed child of the Earl and Countess 
 of Delamore. They took the orphan 
 home, promised their protection during 
 life, and provision at their death. If the 
 loss of such parents as Mr. and Mrs. 
 Montagu could be considered an evil, 
 the gain of such friends as Lord and
 
 THE FRIENDS. 5 
 
 Lady Delamore very much counterba- 
 lanced the misfortune. 
 
 The Earl of Delamore, into whose 
 house Caroline was domesticated, was 
 the possessor of one of the oldest titles 
 and largest estates in England, and, what 
 is not always their accompaniments, his 
 virtues were more exalted than his rank 
 and wealth ; his fortune he considered as 
 given him for the good of others, not for 
 the gratification of his own idle wishes 
 and extravagant indulgences. And, as 
 in the days I speak of, however people 
 groaned and grumbled at an oppressive 
 taxation, they little dreamed of the bur- 
 thens which have since closed so many 
 hospitable doors, extinguished so many 
 cheering fires, and driven numbers even 
 of the highest rank to a foreign strand, 
 or, what is worse, to the footstool of 
 power, there to barter their conscience
 
 D THE WIFE AND 
 
 for bread — as such times did not then 
 quite exist, Lord Delamore was enabled 
 to gratify every noble and generous pur- 
 pose of his mind, without fear of being 
 arrested in his career by the cold hand of 
 poverty ; with which, whatever may be 
 their nominal wealth, few in this coun- 
 try, of late years, have not become ac- 
 quainted. When he resided at his estate 
 in the North, there reigned constantly 
 the most noble hospitality ; which, not 
 confined to his own mansion, reached the 
 lowest peasant in the most remote cot- 
 tage upon his estate. To make all 
 around him happy, virtuous, and con- 
 tent, seemed the object and pleasure of 
 his life. He was a steady friend, a kind 
 master : without splendid talents, his opi- 
 nions were always respected, and with- 
 out great liveliness of disposition, his 
 society was eagerly cultivated, which 
 proves the truth of La Rochefoucault's
 
 THE FRIENDS. 7 
 
 maxim. — " Peu d'esprit avec de la droi- 
 ture ennuie moins a la longue que beau- 
 coup d'esprit avee des travers." 
 
 To find some fault is not very difficult, 
 even in the most perfect characters, and 
 those existed who blamed the rigidity of 
 Lord Delamore's virtue, and the seve- 
 rity of his principles; such animadver- 
 sions were not totally devoid of foun- 
 dation ; but happy is the man in whom 
 only such flaws can be discovered ! 
 
 Lady Delamore very much resembled 
 her lord in character, only with quicker 
 parts and a more lively imagination. In 
 her youth, she had been handsome, and 
 her figure was still commanding. With 
 her husband she had enjoyed the greatest 
 happiness, a circumstance which probably 
 influenced her opinions as to the j udgment 
 upon one crime. All others she could ex- 
 tenuate, and, if not pardon, lament the 
 imperfection of human nature they
 
 8 THE WIFE AND 
 
 exhibited ; to conjugal infidelity she was 
 merciless, — it excited her detestation and 
 contempt, which no time could subdue, 
 no person or circumstance palliate ; and 
 the frail being who, for bread, has re- 
 course to a life of misery and guilt, was 
 by Lady Delamore considered before 
 her who, in a superior rank, betrays her 
 husband, and for the gratification of a 
 criminal passion abandons him and her 
 children. 
 
 Bitter and sincere were the tears Ca- 
 roline shed at the loss of her parents ; 
 their kindness was never forgotten their 
 failings had never been observed ; but 
 the love which a residence with such 
 people as Lord and Lady Delamore 
 shortly excited, was of a superior de- 
 scription to any heretofore felt,— it was 
 mingled with respect and admiration; 
 and it may be concluded, that their con- 
 versation, actions, and ideas, contributed
 
 THE FRIENDS. 9 
 
 very much in forming her future charac- 
 ter, strengthening what was good, and 
 eradicating whatever worldly, trivial 
 dispositions the intercourse with her 
 parents might have implanted in her 
 mind. 
 
 Great sweetness of temper, a lively 
 manner, and cultivated mind in their 
 adopted daughter, added to an affec- 
 tionate disposition, soon made a warm 
 and lasting impression on Lord and 
 Lady Delamore. Their only and be- 
 loved child's absence left a vacuum in 
 their society and affections, which Ca- 
 roline contributed, in some measure, to 
 fill up ; her gaiety cheered their family 
 party, and dispersed the melancholy 
 which would too often intrude on his 
 lengthened stay abroad, and the dangers 
 
 which he was exposed. Of this son 
 is impossible for Caroline to have re- 
 sided long at Delamore Castle without 
 B 5
 
 10 THE WIFE AND 
 
 hearing so much, that in the course of 
 time she felt the same interest as though 
 they were acquaintances. Besides the 
 praises of his parents, which might be 
 deemed partial, there was not a servant 
 or peasant about the place but who re- 
 counted, from his earliest years, some 
 trait of his spirit and generosity. It was 
 he who, at the risk of his own life, had 
 saved that of another, who had inter- 
 ceded for the servant with whom his fa- 
 ther was displeased, who was the most 
 fearless in danger, the most skilful on the 
 ocean. 
 
 To a lively girl, residing in a country 
 whose romantic scenes assisted the efforts 
 of imagination, such tales were not 
 heard with indifference, and who, with- 
 out a companion of her own age, had 
 nothing frequently for her mind to dwell 
 upon but the vast objects of nature 
 every solitary ramble presented to her,
 
 THE FRIENDS. 11 
 
 and with which was naturally connected 
 the idea of him who once had been, like 
 her, their admirer, and for hours appa- 
 rently their exclusive sovereign. To her 
 were many of his letters to his parents 
 imparted ; they displayed a well-inform- 
 ed mind, and an affectionate heart ; the 
 events of the war were described with 
 spirit ; but still a melancholy tone of feel- 
 ing hung over every subject, not unob- 
 served by his youthful reader, and, it 
 must be added, admirer. Here, however, 
 seemed likely to begin and end all far- 
 ther knowledge. Lord Elliot's military 
 fire knew no abatement, and with peace 
 alone did his return seem probable. Lord 
 Delamore mourned, but never remon- 
 strated ; his son's praises resounded from 
 every tongue, but they gave no joy to 
 his parents. It occasioned Caroline some 
 surprise, that an only and beloved son 
 should have entered the army ; on this
 
 12! THE WIFE AND 
 
 point all were silent or ignorant ; a sud- 
 den determination, neither objected to 
 nor encouraged by his parents, had made 
 Lord Elliot, at twenty-two, abandon 
 home, friends, country, all the luxuries 
 and pleasures of his age, rank, fortune, 
 and situation, for the hardships of foreign 
 service in a remote and unhealthy cli- 
 mate. So he had acted : — four years had 
 since gone by, but the attractions of 
 home were powerless, when compared to 
 the reigning passion of his mind, — mili- 
 tary glory.
 
 THE FRIENDS. 13 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Time passed on. Caroline was eigh- 
 teen, and introduced by Lady Delamore 
 into the world. Handsome, gay, good 
 humoured, fond of dancing, not blind 
 to the ridiculous, and without much 
 vanity, not insensible to admiration, she 
 moved for a short time in London, as 
 though it had been a heaven upon 
 earth, with that feeling of enjoyment 
 which custom soon destroys, and nothing 
 but youth produces. And where, for a 
 beginner, she had more admirers than 
 the married ladies could well spare, and
 
 14 THE WIFE AND 
 
 more partners than the unmarried con- 
 sidered the lawful right of an untitled 
 girl without fortune, and whose family, 
 however good, could not prevent her 
 being styled Lady Delamore's proteg6e. 
 The dream of pleasure in three 
 months was at an end— the fine speeches 
 of fine gentlemen became wearisome, 
 the airs of fine ladies equally so — the 
 folly of fools was no longer amusing, or 
 the wit of the witty harmless ; — in short, 
 Caroline quitted London without regret, 
 she cast few longing, lingering looks be- 
 hind, — her busy fancy was more inclined 
 to dart into futurity, for with it was 
 now closely connected the unseen 
 though not unknown Lord Elliot ; but 
 soon to be no longer a being of imagina- 
 tion, a subject for waking and sleeping 
 dreams, but in all proper form, the re- 
 nowned Lord Elliot was at length once 
 more destined to tread his parental halls,
 
 THE FRIENDS. 15 
 
 — his arrival might be any day, any 
 hour ; his parents were in raptures at the 
 thought, their aching arms were ready 
 to snatch him to their bosoms, and then 
 to die content. 
 
 Caroline's feelings it would be diffi- 
 cult to describe — for days had she start- 
 ed at every sound, flown to the window 
 at each distant figure that appeared, and 
 lived but in anxious watchfulness for 
 the arrival of him whose approach occu- 
 pied every thought and every voice 
 around :— he arrived at last, but Caroline 
 appeared not ; the day was spent, for he 
 arrived early, but Caroline avoided all 
 summons to meet him till the dinner 
 hour obliged her to descend into the 
 drawing-room, where the longed-for 
 yet dreaded interview took place. 
 
 " So my little truant at length ap- 
 pears," exclaimed Lady Delamore, when 
 Caroline closed the door after her; " why,
 
 16 THE WIFE AND 
 
 my love, where have you concealed 
 yourself all day ? Poor Elliot is in de- 
 spair at not having yet made your ac- 
 quaintance ; so, speedily put him out of 
 his misery, I beg." So saying, Lady 
 Delamore took a hand of each, and 
 placing them within one another, smil- 
 ingly desired them for the future to 
 regard each other as brother and sister. 
 " You are both unfortunate in having 
 no such amiable relationship ; give me 
 credit in having done my best to reme- 
 dy the evil." 
 
 The deepest crimson suffused Caro- 
 line's cheeks, as she received Lord El- 
 liot's hand ; he was in no ways moved, 
 and hardly touching the little hand 
 which was placed in his, muttered a few 
 words of cold civility, the purport of 
 which might be better imagined than 
 heard Caroline coloured again, but
 
 THE FRIENDS. 17 
 
 from a different cause ; a reception so 
 little courteous was not what she ex- 
 pected or intended, and she sat down to 
 dinner with some heroic resolves float- 
 ing in her brain of dismissing Lord El- 
 liot, in future, from her thoughts:— hu- 
 man nature is, however, frail. 
 
 The dinners at Delamore Castle were 
 not remarkable for expedition ; the con- 
 versation rested with Lord Elliot and 
 his parents ; Caroline continued the ap- 
 pearance of eating long after every 
 vestige of food had vanished from her 
 plate, but, at length, this employment 
 she was forced to relinquish, and her 
 eyes, no longer fascinated to the table, 
 wandered round every well-known por- 
 trait on the wall to every oft-noted 
 article of plate on the sideboard, until 
 they rested where she was least desirous 
 they should be, but where, when once
 
 18 THE WIFE AND 
 
 they were established, it was vain to at- 
 tempt to withdraw them from the mag- 
 net of attraction — Lord Elliot. 
 
 From the portraits which hung in 
 many of the rooms, and the description 
 of every one who had seen him, it was im- 
 possible for Caroline to be ignorant that 
 Lord Elliot was a very handsome man, 
 and a very handsome man she found 
 him, though not quite in the style of 
 beauty she expected — he looked older 
 and graver than she imagined him. His 
 complexion was sallow, but it gave ad- 
 ditional lustre to the finest eyes possible, 
 which, shaded by his raven eyebrows, 
 shot forth glances indicative of tender- 
 ness and spirit: the rest of his features 
 were well formed. Seriousness seemed 
 the habitual expression of his counte- 
 nance, and his dark and curling locks fell 
 over a pensive and contemplative brow, 
 no smile played around his mouth, and
 
 THE FRIENDS. 19 
 
 whilst in figure and face his outward man 
 fell little short of perfection, it yet gave 
 no index that there was aught in unison 
 within. Caroline's contemplations, and it 
 must be confessed, admiration, were to- 
 tally undisturbed by any similar obser- 
 vations from him who was their object: 
 Lord Elliot seemed hardly sensible of 
 her presence, and never once looked at 
 her during a rather tedious repast. 
 
 Happy as Lord Delamore was in the 
 return of his son, for his felicity to be 
 perfect, it required to be partaken of by 
 all, high and low, within his sphere ; the 
 pride, the pleasure he felt in him, none 
 but his mother could share ; but in a less 
 degree he determined to render his arri- 
 val a source of enjoyment to all over 
 whom the benevolent wish could ex- 
 tend. In celebration of the event, the 
 poor were fed and clothed, and partook 
 of all manner of rural diversions, whilst
 
 20 THE WIFE AND 
 
 to the higher ranks, various entertain- 
 ments, amongst others a ball, were 
 given. 
 
 Lord and Lady Delamore were so 
 universally popular, that what gave 
 them pleasure seemed to be matter of 
 general satisfaction: all ranks rejoiced in 
 their prosperity, as all would have wept 
 at their misfortunes ; and the fetes, had 
 they been far less splendid, would have 
 gratified every one on account of the 
 donor and the cause for which they 
 were given ; as it was, however, it re- 
 quired no vast effort of good-nature to 
 be pleased, for they were such that the 
 most fastidious or splenetic could find no 
 cause to blame. No expense, no trou- 
 ble was spared; the weather, for once, 
 was propitious to out-of-doors amuse- 
 ments, and within was dancing, music, 
 and feasting, from the drawing-room to 
 the kitchen, more resembling the de-
 
 THE FRIENDS. 21 
 
 scription in the Arabian tales, than the 
 common festivity of common life. 
 
 All were gay, all were amused, ex- 
 cepting one, — that one was the hero of 
 the day. He alone seemed not to share 
 in the general hilarity, and to stand 
 alone in the midst of hundreds : he ut- 
 tered no dislike to the passing scene ; 
 but his countenance betrayed indiffer- 
 ence to all around, or what was worse, 
 disgust at the attention paid him, and 
 notice he attracted. He was, however, 
 so handsome, his air so noble, and the 
 tone of his voice so deep and penetrat- 
 ing, that he forced an interest even in 
 the hearts of those who were least will- 
 ing to dispense with popular manners ; 
 still he was far from giving general sa- 
 tisfaction, or even satisfying entirely any 
 one — even his mother had her secret 
 cause of offence. 
 
 Lady Delamore intended her son and
 
 22 THE WIFE AND 
 
 Caroline should open the ball, and set 
 her heart upon their doing so, more 
 than so trifling a subject seemed to jus- 
 tify ; perhaps she wished their acquaint- 
 ance to advance a little more rapidly 
 than it had yet done ; be this as it may, 
 she made the proposal, never doubting 
 its acceptance, and met with a decided 
 refusal. Lady Delamore, hurt and sur- 
 prised, concluded Lord Elliot objected 
 to the partner she had selected; she 
 was, however, reassured on that head, 
 by her son declaring that no power on 
 earth should induce him to dance then, 
 or ever — " But, my dear, you were once 
 so fond of dancing,'' said Lady Dela- 
 more, beseechingly. " Once," replied 
 her son, " I was not what I now am ;" and 
 he left the room, in which he did not 
 appear again for some time. 
 
 The ball continued with the greatest 
 spirit. Caroline found in Lord Dorset
 
 THE FKIENDS. 23 
 
 a partner very willing to accept the post 
 she was aware Lord Elliot had rejected, 
 and afterwards she had too many plea- 
 sant engagements to think of or suffer 
 from his neglect. At supper he was again 
 brought to her mind, for she found her- 
 self with Lord Dorset, placed directly 
 opposite to him ; and if she had been of- 
 fended at his treatment of herself, his 
 behaviour to his present companion 
 might have restored peace to her bosom. 
 Lady Ansley, the envied fair one 
 who attracted Lord Elliot's notice suf- 
 ficiently to be honoured with his arm 
 to the supper-room, found, like many 
 other exalted stations, that by his side 
 to be one of more pain than pleasure, 
 and that its dignity could not compen- 
 sate for its dulness. She was handsome, 
 and rather agreeable, but vain were her 
 efforts to draw Lord Elliot into conver- 
 sation, or worse, observation. Lost in a
 
 24 THE WIFE AND 
 
 profound fit of musing, he remained 
 silent the whole supper. Very unused 
 to such treatment, and at a country ball 
 particularly, Lady Ansley could scarce 
 conceal the wrath which was swelling 
 in her bosom, a spirit which was not 
 diminished by the observations she had 
 unhappily but too much leisure to make 
 on the pair opposite, who, in loquacity, 
 formed a striking contrast to herself and 
 Lord Elliot. 
 
 Lord Dorset, though their acquaint- 
 ance could be placed at no more distant 
 date than one week, yet already felt for 
 Caroline the fierce but fading ardour of 
 a juvenile passion— for he was hardly 
 twenty, and not emancipated from the 
 trammels of tuition. With Caroline by 
 his side, he was the happiest of men, and 
 had eyes, ears, and words only for his 
 lovely partner, who, in her turn, was not 
 insensible to his admiration, attention,
 
 THE FRIENDS. 25 
 
 and desire to amuse. Their mirth added 
 the bitter drop of envy to the cup of 
 mortification Lady Ansley had swal- 
 lowed, and happy was she when a gene- 
 ral move silenced the merriment of one 
 pair, and opened to the other a prospect 
 of at best not absolute taciturnity. 
 
 This ball concluded a week of gaiety, 
 after which a select portion of the com- 
 pany remained at Delamore Castle, who, 
 in their turn, gradually dispersed, leav- 
 ing the family but little disturbed by 
 visitors, for the first ebullitions of his 
 joy being expended, Lord Delamore 
 seemed to desire no other society than 
 that of his own family. Lord Elliot 
 was exactly of the same opinion ; and 
 though never gay, the first evening they 
 assembled a family party, he might be 
 termed cheerful. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 26 THE WIFE AND 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 LETTER TO CHARLES HOWARD 
 GRAHAM, ESQ. 
 
 " MY DEAR CHARLES, 
 
 " Notwithstanding my only wish 
 in returning to England was to embrace 
 my parents and yourself, yet two months 
 have elapsed since I trod my native 
 shores, and but half of my desire is ac- 
 complished ; for you I have not seen, nor 
 do I as yet entertain any prospect of 
 doing so; my parents are so pleased with
 
 THE FEIENDS. 27 
 
 my society, that I know not how to pro- 
 pose leaving them. When the novelty 
 of my presence, perhaps, is over, I may 
 escape for a few days. In the mean 
 time, let me hear from you constantly ; 
 for, since my return home, you have 
 adopted the most negligent character as 
 a correspondent, as if the value of a letter 
 consisted in the length of the travels and 
 dangers it had run. To me, in the ad- 
 joining street, or farthest extremity of 
 the globe, your letters will be the greatest 
 source of delight I can enjoy when 
 parted from you ; they are proofs of a 
 friendship more valuable than any other 
 good fortune has provided me, or mis- 
 fortune left me ; the remembrance of 
 which has made me thankful, after an 
 engagement, that my life had escaped 
 the chances of war ; and before one, I 
 had satisfaction in the thought, that if I 
 fell, (a fate I hardly wished to avoid,) 
 c 2
 
 28 THE WIFE AND 
 
 one human being would drop a tear on 
 my grave, would sometimes remember 
 my sorrows, and extenuate my frailties. 
 " Self-reproach is to me rather a new 
 and a very painful feeling ; yet since my 
 arrival in England, I confess, I have suf- 
 fered severely under its pangs. These 
 compunctious visitings of conscience 
 have arisen from discovering, that in in- 
 dulging my own feelings, I have, I fear, 
 unwittingly neglected those of my pa- 
 rents ; my stay abroad having caused 
 them more uneasiness for a long period, 
 than I would willingly be the cause of 
 for a few hours. The letters of age are 
 short and unsatisfactory ; they do not 
 express the feelings as those of youth 
 do; from them I should not have judged 
 they desired my return. The circum- 
 stances, too, of my leaving England, 
 dwelt upon my mind, and I little ima- 
 gined the affectionate reception I have 
 met with, and still more affectionate and
 
 THE FRIENDS. 29 
 
 friendly discourses I have had with my 
 father and mother since. To satisfy 
 them, I am now on half-pay; and to sa- 
 tisfy myself as well as them, my home 
 in future is to be theirs — long may it so 
 continue ; afterwards, I know not what 
 I may do. I would willingly abandon 
 my possessions to portion young girls, 
 and found hospitals, and myself seek 
 some distant land, — 
 
 " There let me live unseen, unknown, 
 There, unlamented, let me die ; 
 Steal from the world, and not a stone 
 Tell where I lie." 
 
 " But I see the smile which plays 
 around your mouth at this sentimental air 
 of quoting poetry : your raillery I never 
 could stand, so to escape from it, I will 
 turn to a subject which, at this moment, 
 rather interests me. Did you ever hear 
 of a Miss Montagu, who had resided 
 with my parents about four years?
 
 30 THE WIFE AND 
 
 She seems a good-natured, lively girl ; 
 beyond that I know nothing ; for I have 
 not waved in favour of her my resolu- 
 tion never to talk to young ladies. 
 Lord and Lady Delamore adore her, 
 and hourly exalt her merits and perfec- 
 tions in my very insensible ears. Well, 
 this little lady has a lover, Dorset, Lord 
 Aubrey's son. He has good looks, good 
 humour, great expectations ; but my fa- 
 ther and mother look for greater merits ; 
 and because he is very young, and there- 
 fore not very demure, they treat him 
 and his passion with the utmost con- 
 tempt, and talk of him as a spoilt school- 
 boy, quite unworthy of their Caroline. 
 Their behaviour is so much the reverse 
 of encouraging, that the poor youth, 
 without my protection, would be driven 
 to despair. Every convenient opportu- 
 nity, I do my best to soften my parents 
 in favour of the lovers, and I hope for
 
 THE FRIENDS. 31 
 
 better success than when I pleaded for 
 myself. My kind endeavours are not 
 lost upon Dorset, and, in return, I have 
 all his hopes and fears in my bosom. 
 The warmth of his love is charming, and 
 worthy of warmer suns and kindlier 
 skies. Caroline is somewhat of a co- 
 quette, and can assume a prudish air, 
 which drives poor Dorset nearly wild, and 
 he is wretched till her smiles re-appear. 
 
 u His pains, however, are not very 
 lasting; and la petite, being any thing 
 but sentimental, and very fond of laugh- 
 ing, the first lively air or cheerful 
 remark banishes her factitious manners, 
 and restores her to her natural gay self, 
 and Dorset, consequently, to his equally 
 good spirits. In my next, I hope I 
 shall have to announce their marriage. 
 My parents say, will such love as Lord 
 Dorset's last ? It is too sudden ! too ju- 
 venile ! too violent ! Alas ! how are the
 
 321 THE WIFE AND 
 
 suspicious calculations of age ever to be 
 satisfied? it is such cruel kindness that 
 would freeze up all affection, and break 
 or render callous the heart ! 
 
 " The newspapers will have told you 
 of the festivities which have lately taken 
 place here : it was in my honour these 
 fetes were instituted ; but, unlike those 
 of old, I alone was the victim immolated. 
 To describe to you the misery I endured 
 is impossible, and it gained nothing. I 
 could not dance with the women, drink 
 with the men, talk with the wise, or 
 laugh with the foolish ; consequently I 
 was the most unpopular man alive. 
 Whatever may be my other deficiencies, 
 I am not deaf, and I heard some not 
 very flattering comparisons drawn be- 
 tween the old and the young Lord, in 
 which I fared but ill, and my father's 
 merits, if it were possible to exalt them 
 higher than they most justly are, seemed
 
 THE FRIENDS. 33 
 
 to gain by the ungracious manners of his 
 son, for ungracious was the softest epi- 
 thet I was deemed worthy of — a crime 
 which seemed of a far blacker dye than 
 any against which laws human or divine 
 are instituted. It seemed indeed general- 
 ly understood, (particularly amongst the 
 unmarried young ladies,) that a fortunate 
 storm, which should have carried me to 
 the bottom of the sea instead of to my na- 
 tive shores, would have been a common 
 benefit to myself, my family, and the 
 whole community. With the lower or- 
 ders I had better fortune ; it was impos- 
 sible not to be pleased, seeing them so 
 happy, and I did my best to show them 
 I partook of their feelings ; still, I think, 
 my success was more owing to their 
 good-nature than any effort of my own. 
 " I think my letter must have well 
 nigh wearied you ; yet, before I con- 
 clude, I must tell you, what I know 
 c5
 
 34 THE WIFE AND 
 
 you, as a great patron of the chase, will 
 be pleased to hear, I am going to com- 
 mence fox-hunter ; for, in truth, I find, 
 like King Richard, that this piping time 
 of peace is tame and uninteresting to 
 one used to the hazards, activity, and 
 enterprise of war ; and as I am, like him, 
 (though not from exactly the same 
 cause,) not formed for other sportive 
 tricks, I will follow a noble though not 
 a refined amusement, which once I af- 
 fected to despise, and now I fly to as the 
 source of health both to mind and body. 
 I beseech you, be moderate in your tri- 
 umph. Do you remember our conver- 
 sation at Naples, on that subject, in the 
 
 year ? You were just returning to 
 
 England, and blamed me for speaking 
 contemptuously of the manners and pur- 
 suits of our countrymen. My mind was 
 then occupied alone by a fair vision— so 
 fair! so transitory! When I think of
 
 THE FRIENDS. 35 
 
 those days, I sometimes doubt if they 
 really existed, or if they were no more 
 than the phantoms of the brain. How 
 happy we then were ! how gay, how un- 
 conscious that such enjoyment was only 
 for a day, and not to be the prevailing 
 colour of our future lives ! I was soon 
 undeceived — enough of this, &c. &c. 
 
 Elliot." 
 
 The month of September moved qui- 
 etly on, undiversified with any strik- 
 ing event. Lord Elliot's time was very 
 much devoted to his father and mother. 
 Caroline had hers very much to herself, 
 unless Lord Dorset was at Delamore 
 Castle. His admiration it was impos- 
 sible for her to mistake, but it gave her 
 no inquietude ; and her vanity never 
 suggested the probability of its inducing 
 him to solicit her hand. He was shortly 
 to go abroad, where she concluded the
 
 36 THE WIFE AND 
 
 boyish sentiment would be soon forgot- 
 ten ; and, in the mean time, she did not 
 consider an air of severity necessary to 
 repulse a youth whose only conversation 
 with her was on the topics of his gun, 
 his horse, and his dog, mingled with the 
 more animated, though not more intel- 
 lectual details of poachers and deer- 
 stealers. The event proved, as is not 
 a very common case with young la- 
 dies of eighteen, that she had somewhat 
 under-rated the love of her admirer. 
 The person to whom she was indebted 
 for this additional light, was no less than 
 Lord Elliot himself. 
 
 At the farther extremity of a splen- 
 did suite of apartments, which were open 
 to all, was one not in such general use, 
 designated Caroline's, from its being 
 chiefly appropriated to her, and where 
 her books, musical instruments, and draw- 
 ing materials, were deposited ; it was
 
 THE FRIENDS. 37 
 
 here that one morning Lord Elliot 
 sought Caroline, and, with his usual 
 solemnity of manner, placing himself by 
 her side, opened the following commu- 
 nication. 
 
 " The penetration natural to your 
 sex, as well as to you in particular, will 
 probably make very few words neces- 
 sary to explain the purport of this inter- 
 view — and even now" — Lord Elliot 
 looked hardly at the blushing Caroline ; 
 " and even now, if I mistake not, the 
 topic on which I would discourse is dis- 
 covered by you." 
 
 Caroline, covered with confusion, stam- 
 mered a few words, professing her utter 
 ignorance. 
 
 M Indeed, I have a message to deliver 
 you from Lord Dorset — need I say 
 more ? his name must prepare you for 
 what is to follow." 
 
 " From Lord Dorset!" exclaimed Ca-
 
 38 THE WIFE AND 
 
 roline; " I have no conception on what 
 subject he could empower you to speak 
 to me." 
 
 " What think you of that of mar- 
 riage ?" and the first smile Caroline had 
 ever observed on his face, played around 
 his mouth ; she herself could hardly 
 prevent a similar feeling. 
 
 " Marriage ! impossible ! you cannot 
 be serious ; indeed you must pardon my 
 laughing, but . . . ." 
 
 " You may do any thing you please," 
 replied Lord Elliot, resuming his usual 
 gravity, " but reject Dorset's offer. 
 You cannot be ignorant of his passion, 
 which he implores you to reward, by 
 accepting his hand and fortune : he 
 would have made his proposal himself ; 
 but fearing, I trust most unnecessarily, 
 his offers might be rejected, he has 
 placed his cause in my most unworthy 
 hands ; and I have only to add, that
 
 THE FRIENDS. 39 
 
 I hope you will frankly declare your 
 sentiments with regard to him, and not 
 use your sex's privilege of tormenting 
 an honest and affectionate heart, solely 
 because it is defenceless and in your 
 power." 
 
 Lord Elliot was silent ; and Caroline 
 seemed very well inclined to remain 
 equally so. The purport of his visit 
 she had widely mistaken ; but if it was 
 disappointment she felt, it was not suffi- 
 ciently acute to prevent her lively 
 disposition being somewhat aroused, 
 by the boyish passion of Lord Dorset 
 being advocated by the solemn Lord 
 Elliot. 
 
 As some answer was highly requisite, 
 she checked the rising smile, and spoke 
 as follows : " Whatever may be my 
 sex's privileges, it would be totally out 
 of my power to use them for so un- 
 worthy a purpose as you think possi-
 
 40 THE WIFE AND 
 
 ble ; and I must with all frankness de- 
 clare that I feel not for Lord Dorset 
 that love which would enable me to 
 accept him as a husband. I have too 
 good an opinion of him not to be flat- 
 tered by his partiality, which I should 
 hope ever to retain to a certain degree ; 
 though, mixing in the world, I make 
 no doubt, will soon eradicate any 
 warmer sentiments, which would never 
 probably have arisen, I suspect, in 
 more enlarged society, where he will 
 soon find many far more worthy of his 
 hand than one he has only fancied so, 
 when compared with the few he has ever 
 seen her with. You look surprised, and 
 somewhat incredulous — I hope you do 
 not judge so meanly of women, as to 
 doubt the possibility of a rich and young 
 lord being rejected." 
 
 "As to Dorset's rank and wealth, 
 they are the least of his merits, and un-
 
 THE FRIENDS. 41 
 
 worthy the consideration of a well-prin- 
 cipled woman ; independent of them, 
 he has a thousand good qualities to gain, 
 I should imagine, the affections of any 
 female whose feelings were disengaged. 
 I still beg of you to consider whom 
 you reject ; Dorset has power, I am 
 convinced, to render any woman hap- 
 py: he has good temper, good looks, 
 and " 
 
 " And every other good quality, I 
 dare say ; but, alas ! as far as they re- 
 gard me they are useless ; one bad qua- 
 lity I possess counteracts them all — taste 
 is wanting on my part to appreciate his 
 merits ; — he may be all you think, and 
 much more, but still nothing should 
 induce me to accept him as a hus- 
 band." 
 
 " You are very decided." 
 
 " It is a point on which decision is 
 necessary."
 
 42 THE WIFE AND 
 
 " Then I am to inform Lord Dorset 
 there is no hope ;" and Lord Elliot 
 looked solemn. 
 
 " You are not obliged to do so, as I 
 could save you the trouble by writ- 
 ing." 
 
 Lord Elliot arose. " Your letter, I 
 fear, would be too harsh: in delivering 
 your sentiments to Dorset, I shall en- 
 deavour, as far as my power extends, to 
 soften the blow:" and he bowed and 
 withdrew. 
 
 Caroline remained uncertain whether 
 to be pleased or sorry at the interview 
 which had just taken place. The gra- 
 tification to her vanity which a first 
 proposal might have given her, was en- 
 tirely absorbed in the far greater satis- 
 faction to be derived from Lord Elliot's 
 interesting himself in any thing con- 
 cerning her so nearly ; but this very in- 
 terest only proclaimed his indifference to
 
 THE FRIENDS. 43 
 
 herself. Strange as it may seem, Caroline 
 admired Lord Elliot, with an admiration 
 bordering on love, a sentiment which 
 had arisen without knowing him, and 
 strengthened without encouragement, 
 but still it existed. Her understanding 
 might have conquered her inclination, 
 or it might have faded from neglect, 
 had not Lord and Lady Delamore, in 
 some measure, nourished a sentiment, 
 which the object himself could not be 
 accused of attempting to raise in the 
 bosom of Caroline or any other fair 
 lady — to all was he equally neglectful. 
 His parents were not so guiltless, and 
 Caroline, from their conversation, soon 
 knew that they wished their son mar- 
 ried, and they took very little pains to 
 conceal, that but half their desire would 
 be accomplished, unless his choice fell 
 upon Caroline.
 
 44 THE WIFE AND 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Whether Lord Dorset ever attain- 
 ed that perfection of character, at twen- 
 ty he was no philosopher : he received 
 the tidings which Lord Elliot, with all 
 proper caution, imparted, in the manner 
 of a disappointed child, upbraided his 
 friend with lukewarmness in his cause, 
 Caroline with the most unheard-of cruel- 
 ty, and finally proclaimed himself incapa- 
 ble of knowing happiness more. Lord 
 Elliot, who was feelingly alive to the 
 torments of the tender passion, was seri- 
 ously alarmed : he lamented over, and
 
 THE FRIENDS. 45 
 
 reasoned with his friend, and quoted 
 chapter and verse to prove whatever is, 
 is best. For about an hour, Lord Dor- 
 set was very wretched, more wretched 
 than he perhaps ever was afterwards, and 
 certainly ever was before. His nature 
 was not capable of more affliction, and 
 the tide of his sorrow beginning to ebb, 
 Lord Elliot began to have better hopes 
 of the success of his eloquence, when 
 an unexpected auxiliary arrived, in the 
 person of his friend's groom. 
 
 The intelligence the servant had to 
 communicate was no less than the alarm- 
 ing illness of a favourite horse, unmatch- 
 ed for beauty, power, and action. Such 
 an accumulation of troubles might have 
 shaken a firmer mind than Lord Dor- 
 set's ; as his w T as constituted, however, 
 two sources of grief could not exist to- 
 gether ; the last drove the first fairly 
 from the field; the lover gave way to
 
 46 THE WIFE AND 
 
 the man, the friend was deserted for 
 the farrier : and that night, when sleep 
 closed his eyelids — for sleep he did — 
 Caroline's image haunted him far less 
 than that of his dying favourite. 
 
 Lord Dorset's proposal caused a de- 
 cided advance of acquaintance between 
 Lord Elliot and Caroline : he sometimes 
 looked at her, once or twice addressed 
 her particularly, praised her dress to his 
 mother, her horsewomanship to his fa- 
 ther, and moreover, presented her with a 
 beautiful Cachmere shawl, — to be sure it 
 had been previously offered to his mo- 
 ther, who had declared the colour too 
 juvenile for herself, and exactly suited 
 to Caroline's complexion ; but he was 
 not necessitated to present it to her. 
 These important circumstances con- 
 vinced Lady Delamore of what they 
 would have convinced no one else, that
 
 THE FRIENDS. 47 
 
 a latent feeling of admiration for Caro- 
 line was nourished in the bosom of her 
 son, and that this feeling should be 
 strengthened and improved, was her ob- 
 ject, desire, and secret prayer. Heedless 
 of the misery which might ensue to 
 Caroline by such a system of conduct, 
 did she hourly exalt to the far too 
 credulous girl, her son's merits, and 
 repeat, by way of praise and admira- 
 tion, such compliments as Lady Dela- 
 more extorted, with regard to Caro- 
 line, from Lord Elliot, whenever they 
 were alone ; but which, in the repeti- 
 tion, she took care to deliver as the 
 spontaneous effusions of his mind. She 
 meant not to deceive, nor was she 
 aware she did so : strongly desirous to 
 unite her son and Caroline, she only 
 saw and heard what could further her 
 wishes.
 
 48 THE WIFE AND 
 
 Lord Dorset, who had quitted Eng- 
 land after Caroline's rejection of his ad- 
 dresses, despatched the following letter 
 to Lord Elliot, dated 
 
 Geneva. 
 
 " What is most like a man travelling 
 to a kind mistress ? Answer— A man 
 travelling from an unkind one. This I 
 have demonstrated in mathematical 
 style, for I came here on the wings 
 of the wind, so that those who viewed 
 my flight could have imagined no less 
 than that an impatient fair one was 
 panting for my presence, instead of a 
 disdainful one having spurned me from 
 her feet. By rapid movement, I hoped 
 to drive her image from my mind, and 
 to a certain degree I succeeded, but I 
 am afraid, in this vulgar town, my love 
 will return with renewed force ; here, 
 however, I am doomed, by the plan of 
 travels laid down by my father, to wait
 
 THE FRIENDS. 49 
 
 one month ! My ultimate destination 
 is Vienna, where, in my uncle's house, I 
 shall be allowed to dismiss a clog which 
 is at present united to my fate— a union 
 promoted by my father, I presume, to 
 make up for my disappointment in that 
 of a more tender nature. 
 
 " This clog, or tutor, is called Mr. 
 John Williams; he is old, ugly, cross, and 
 full of complaints, to which, however, I 
 make it a point never to attend, or I 
 should not have travelled at the rate 
 I did. 
 
 " I was at a party last night ; the wo- 
 men such dowdies and frights ! but with 
 Caroline Montagu in one's thoughts, 
 how can they appear otherwise?— if you 
 can live in the house and not fall in love 
 with her, you are the most insensible of 
 mortals ; besides, I will tell you a secret, 
 — she loves you. She was in love with 
 some one, and I, presuming on my own 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 THE WIFE AND 
 
 merits and the dulness of the old cas- 
 tle she inhabits, in the pride of my 
 heart, imagined myself the object of 
 some secret sighs and blushes I can bear 
 witness to. The event proved how 
 much I was mistaken — still she loves — 
 and I am certain you are the person: — 
 the sooner, therefore, your marriage is 
 settled the better, for my wounded 
 vanity will never recover, unless I know 
 that love for you caused my offers to be 
 rejected. 
 
 Dorset." 
 
 This letter, with many others, was de- 
 livered to Lord Elliot, in the presence 
 of his mother : glancing his eyes lightly 
 over it, he turned to one from a political 
 correspondent, — for, as a member of the 
 lower house, his lordship had lately 
 thought it incumbent upon him to form 
 a judgment of the affairs of the nation ;
 
 THE FRIENDS. 51 
 
 and, neglecting all private gossip, he 
 turned to that of a public nature, which 
 is not the less gossip, call it what they 
 will. 
 
 Lady Delamore, who had no letters to 
 divert her mind, inquired of her son the 
 contents of his. 
 
 " I see nothing likely to interest you, 
 unless it be a letter from Dorset." 
 
 " Poor young man ! how are his spi- 
 rits ?" for Lady Delamore viewed Lord 
 Dorset with a far more favourable eye 
 as a rejected than incipient lover. 
 
 " From the opening of his letter, I 
 should not be under any alarm as to his 
 spirits ; but if it is worth the trouble of 
 your perusal, pray satisfy your inquiries 
 by reading his letter yourself ;" and Lord 
 Elliot delivered the letter to his mother, 
 and returned to that which, by this 
 short dialogue, he had been prevented 
 the continuation of. 
 vol. I. d 2
 
 52 THE WIFE AND 
 
 Lady Delamore read the letter with 
 attention. " What your friend has com- 
 municated to you, then, you know no- 
 thing of?" she observed, as she returned 
 the letter. 
 
 " No : and as Dorset is a wild fellow, 
 it was trusting to his discretion more 
 than is proper — I hope there is nothing 
 objectionable in it?" 
 
 " Nothing whatsoever." 
 
 " Nothing !" exclaimed Lord Elliot, 
 glancing his eye over the letter and co- 
 louring as he spoke, — " nothing ! — my 
 opinion is very different ; the absurdity 
 of the greater part of what I hold in my 
 hand cannot be termed otherwise than 
 objectionable — the levity of youth is 
 the only excuse." 
 
 Lady Delamore paused for a moment, 
 and then inquired, with not so much 
 composure in her voice as she wished to 
 assume, what it was in the letter to 
 which he particularly objected.
 
 THE FRIENDS. 53 
 
 " If you are very desirous to know, 
 it is the ending which offends me : 
 the rest is merely a schoolboy's rhap- 
 sody." 
 
 " Is it the person or the event which 
 is so disagreeable to you?" demanded 
 Lady Delamore, still with some hesita- 
 tion, though less than before. 
 
 " Both," was the laconic reply. 
 
 " I am to understand, then," — and 
 Lady Delamore, as she spoke, was forced 
 to muster all her resolution — " I am to 
 understand, then, that you still think of 
 a determination which you once formed, 
 of never marrying." 
 
 " I shall never marry." 
 
 " My dear Elliot, you are not serious, 
 or you know not on what you resolve." 
 
 " Am I, Madam, so apt to be jocose, 
 that on such a subject I should be sus- 
 pected of levity? and as to not having 
 given my determination due considera-
 
 54 THE WIFE AND 
 
 tion, it was formed years ago, since 
 which time no idea of relaxing my re- 
 solve has ever entered my mind." 
 
 u Then the sooner your superior sense 
 shows you the folly of such a resolve the 
 better, both as regards yourself and your 
 family." Lady Delamore spoke deci- 
 dedly, and in a manner which convinced 
 her son that, however accident had pro- 
 duced its commencement, his mother 
 was determined not easily to let the 
 conversation close. 
 
 " The reasonableness of my determin- 
 ation, like every other action of man, 
 may meet with far from general appro- 
 bation ; but, my dear mother, without 
 discussing that point, let us have done 
 with the subject — which once, and I 
 tremble to think it, nearly severed our 
 union for ever — never, I implore, let us 
 encounter the same risk ?" 
 
 " God forbid we ever should ! — still
 
 THE FRIENDS. 55 
 
 Elliot, I am your mother, and, what is 
 of more importance, your friend and 
 well-wisher ; — I do not want to argue 
 with you, but to advise — and, without 
 being more desirous than is becoming, 
 I must confess — and I should think our 
 wishes might have influence — your fa- 
 ther and myself would like to see you 
 married. In the course of events, our 
 lives cannot be prolonged very long ; and 
 how sad will be our deaths, if we leave 
 him we love best on earth, to a life of 
 solitude and discontent, pertinaciously 
 adhering to a resolve formed in a mo- 
 ment of disappointment, and thus de- 
 prived of experiencing the happiness to 
 be derived from the most amiable and 
 rational of all unions !" 
 
 " And would marriage make my life 
 less discontented, less unhappy?" in- 
 quired Lord Elliot. 
 
 " It would be a source of interest,
 
 56 THE WIFE AND 
 
 which must become one of happi- 
 ness." 
 
 " Yes, but happiness and I are never 
 likely again to be acquainted. What- 
 ever portion in future the blessing of 
 Providence may grant me, must be in- 
 dependent of marriage. I cannot pro- 
 fess a passion I do not feel, never can 
 feel again ; and it is not very probable 
 any woman would accept a man with- 
 out such professions." 
 
 " But if such could be found," said 
 Lady Delamore, looking keenly at her 
 son, " you might be induced to alter 
 your determination ?" 
 
 " Such could not be found." 
 
 " I do not agree with you. The re- 
 spect, the esteem of a man of sense and 
 feeling would be far more gratifying 
 to some women — even the young and 
 blooming, — than all the evanescent pro- 
 fessions of such as Lord Dorset."
 
 THE FRIENDS. 57 
 
 " My dearest mother, a few disap- 
 pointed old maids may find it advisable 
 to hold such liberal doctrine ; but, be- 
 lieve me, the young and blooming give 
 not their hearts but in exchange for 
 feelings warm as their own; their smiles 
 cannot be requited by sighs, their love 
 by esteem." 
 
 " Your sentiments savour a little too 
 much of the romance of youth. I will 
 not deny that age may render mine, in 
 your eyes, equally faulty in an opposite 
 extreme ; nevertheless, I must say in 
 their defence, they were drawn from 
 particular, not general observation — and 
 one I could name, was " 
 
 " Oh, for God's sake, Madam," inter- 
 rupted impatiently Lord Elliot, " do, 
 not name the name of so cold and heart- 
 less a being. In your eyes, she may 
 have married for love, but it must have 
 been love of title, or family, or fortune." 
 D5
 
 58 THE WIFE AND 
 
 " The person I alluded to is not 
 married." 
 
 " I am glad of it, because then she 
 may live to know what love is. You 
 look hurt, my dear mother; forgive my 
 impetuosity — this subject is closely con- 
 nected with all I have suffered, with all 
 I still suffer." 
 
 " I pity you," said Lady Delamore 
 with a sigh, " and have, I fear, to little 
 purpose pointed out a method of regain- 
 ing your happiness. Well, some day, 
 perhaps, you may regret not having 
 gratified the wishes of your parents, and 
 then, to lighten the ennui of your exist- 
 ence, you may marry; but she who would 
 have loved you for yourself, whom it 
 would have pleased your father and 
 mother to have seen your wife, will pro- 
 bably then have found one more capable 
 of appreciating her merits." 
 
 " Then, in neglecting my own good, I
 
 THE FRIENDS. 59 
 
 shall, at least, have the gratification of 
 promoting that of another." 
 
 Lady Delamore looked a little net- 
 tled. " You pretend, then, not to know 
 of whom I spoke ?" 
 
 " How should I know ?" 
 
 " Through Lord Dorset's letter." 
 
 " Good God ! Caroline Montagu ! — 
 then this is the object to which your 
 discourse has been tending ?" 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " It is a strange mark of your love for 
 her, to wish to punish her by uniting 
 her to me." 
 
 Lady Delamore replied gently, " It 
 would be no punishment." 
 
 Lord Elliot continued, " Caroline is 
 young and lively; the idea you would 
 create in my mind, can never have arisen 
 in hers." 
 
 " Perhaps not in her mind ; but I 
 should not doubt, that its having pos-
 
 60 THE WIFE AND 
 
 session of her heart, made Lord Dorset's 
 offers to be rejected ; which proves rank 
 and fortune are not the objects of 
 Caroline's love." 
 
 Lord Elliot was silent. Lady Dela- 
 more, no longer despairing of the success 
 of her wishes, was equally so, watching 
 the changes in her son's countenance ; 
 where, had any other subject been the 
 cause, she would have felt any thing but 
 satisfaction at the dark clouds of anxiety 
 which for ever traversed his brow. He 
 at length spoke. 
 
 " I am to understand, then, that my 
 father and yourself wish my marriage." 
 
 Lady Delamore answered in the affir- 
 mative. 
 
 " Family pride, and fear that with me 
 should expire our ancient name, I con- 
 clude to be the chief reason of your 
 wish." 
 
 " To a certain degree—not entirely."
 
 THE FRIENDS. 61 
 
 "I would willingly attempt," con- 
 tinued Lord Elliot, " to gratify the de- 
 sires of almost the only two people I 
 care for on earth, but for this end I 
 cannot use deceit ; I cannot try to gain 
 the affections of one who is indifferent 
 to me, by pretended attachment. If, 
 however, a woman bestows her — her 
 affections upon me unasked, the case is 
 different. I have taken no pains to 
 render myself agreeable to Caroline ; 
 she knows what I am ; she can expect 
 no high-flown professions on my part ; 
 her taste is singular, but voluntary. 
 Should I, from my own observations, 
 discover you are not mistaken, far the 
 most probable view of the case — If I 
 should discover, that, such as I am, I am 
 not indifferent to her, that melancholy 
 and broken spirited, she would yet pre- 
 fer uniting her fate to mine, to a far 
 more suitable lot — should such be the
 
 62 THE WIFE AND 
 
 case, I would then consent to your 
 wishes, at least I would do my best to 
 reconcile myself to what I cannot flatter 
 myself or you by saying will contribute 
 to my happiness, farther than the plea- 
 sure I shall have in contributing to 
 yours. If the event ever should take 
 place, I trust Caroline will be happy." 
 
 Lady Delamore's countenance, even 
 more than her words, proclaimed the 
 satisfaction of her heart ; and when she 
 considered the inauspicious manner in 
 which the conversation opened, it had 
 reached a satisfactory point, as far as 
 her own desires went, and the acme of 
 felicity to one who a few minutes before 
 had been nearly in despair. 
 
 " My dear, dear Elliot," she exclaimed, 
 " do not consider yourself as alone to 
 derive no benefit from what will render 
 so many happy. I consider you and 
 Caroline as formed for each other, and
 
 THE FRIENDS. 63 
 
 in desiring your union, have had your 
 mutual advantage in view. Her liveli- 
 ness will exhilarate you ; her talents and 
 beauty must in time captivate you, 
 whilst the respect you create in her* 
 your sense and character, on which are 
 founded her present admiration, will 
 restrain the exuberance of a lively dis- 
 position, and lead her mind to rational 
 and steady pursuits. Do not look so 
 sad, my child ; you must throw off your 
 acquired gloom, and become what you 
 once was, and what the husband of a 
 young and beautiful woman should be." 
 
 " Husband !" exclaimed Elliot in a 
 voice of despair, " I have made no pro- 
 mise. I must make my own observa- 
 tions, and Caroline must then decide for 
 herself." 
 
 " Her decision will not require much 
 consideration." 
 
 " You may be mistaken. A coquette
 
 64 THE WIFE AND 
 
 is not a very uncommon character. I 
 may experience the fate of Dorset." 
 
 " You are unjust to Caroline, and un- 
 just to yourself, in imagining her charac- 
 ter can be that of a coquette, and that 
 you and Lord Dorset can possibly be 
 compared.'' 
 
 " It is no compliment to him to com- 
 pare him to me, I certainly allow. Pray 
 however, Madam, remember I am bound 
 by no promise ; in half an hour I cannot 
 decide upon what changes the whole 
 colour of my future life." 
 
 " That it does indeed/' exclaimed his 
 mother smiling, "and greatly for the 
 better." 
 
 Lord Elliot sighed profoundly; and 
 his mother, fearing a more manifest 
 token of disinclination might follow, 
 hastened to her lord, to whom she im- 
 parted the foregoing conversation.
 
 THE FRIENDS. 65 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Lord Elliot wished to please his 
 parents; but he had loved, and she 
 he loved was dead* She had become 
 the wife of another, but he adored 
 her still, and in his agony of grief had 
 sworn never to forget her, — to be con- 
 stant to her memory. From that hour 
 had her idea ever been present to his 
 mind. In war, in peace, in society ; 
 in solitude ; in his sleeping or waking 
 hours, her cherished image had ever 
 been present to his mind. To tear her 
 from a heart where, even in death, she 
 
 vol. i. d 9
 
 66 THE WIFE AND 
 
 reigned, was impossible, and equally so 
 to disobey his parents. 
 
 After many discourses, arguments, 
 prayers, and almost objurgations, in 
 which Lord Delamore now joined, Lord 
 Elliot yielded. One argument of his 
 father's was conclusive ; that, situ- 
 ated, as he was, his remaining un- 
 married was impossible, unless he pos- 
 sessed a less share of family feeling, 
 and a greater portion of egotism, than 
 was the common share of very indiffer- 
 ent specimens of human nature. 
 
 A visit in a distant part of the coun- 
 try had happily, or unhappily, kept 
 Caroline in ignorance of what was pass- 
 ing at home. The following letter, how- 
 ever, lying upon her table on her arrival, 
 was a very sufficient elucidation. 
 
 " Great as your surprise may be at 
 receiving a letter from me, your asto-
 
 THE FRIENDS. 67 
 
 nishment will but increase when you 
 know its purport, and I hardly know 
 what apology to make for the apparent 
 vanity and presumption I am about to 
 be guilty of. 
 
 " From the unreserved intercourse in 
 which you live with my father and 
 mother, I should think it most probable 
 you are aware of the wish they indulge 
 of seeing me married ; perhaps you are 
 also not ignorant, whom it is their desire, 
 through my means, to embrace as their 
 daughter-in-law. To speak, however, in 
 plain terms, which are more suited to 
 my character and your disposition ; if 
 you, not regarding the few opportunities 
 which our acquaintance and my reserve 
 have afforded me, of paying you those 
 attentions most young ladies consider 
 the prelude to a proposal ; if from what 
 the world and my family pronounce me, 
 you think it would be in my power to
 
 68 THE WIFE AND 
 
 render you happy in marriage, and would 
 accept one, who has little to recommend 
 him, but being the son of Lord and Lady 
 Delamore ; if such should be the case, 
 and you return a favourable answer to 
 this letter, you will confer the highest 
 honour upon, 
 
 Yours, &c. 
 
 Elliot/' 
 
 It would be impossible to paint Caro- 
 line's extreme surprise at the reception 
 of the above letter ; she read and re-read 
 it several times, before she could entirely 
 credit, that what she held in her hand, 
 was a proposal of marriage from Lord 
 Elliot, from the man she loved and ad- 
 mired more than any one else ; and 
 yet, though such an event was what she 
 looked forward to as almost too great 
 happiness for her ever to attain, yet, 
 now it actually took place, she felt her
 
 THE FRIENDS. 69 
 
 satisfaction was like all worldly satis- 
 faction, of a chequered character ; in 
 fact, Caroline felt, and a burning blush 
 crossed her cheeks that Lord Elliot's let- 
 ter was a proposal of marriage, not a 
 declaration of love. But, thought Caro- 
 line, what but liking me can make him 
 desire to marry me? he is a man to 
 form his own opinions, and to act upon 
 them, supposing his parents had wished 
 to influence hie choice, which is highly 
 improbable ; to see him married is the 
 desire of their life ; and though I make 
 no doubt they prefer me to a stranger, 
 yet any daughter-in-law would be ac- 
 ceptable rather than none. Men of 
 superior minds, they say, are guided 
 by reason, not passion ; in this re- 
 spect, therefore, as well as in every 
 other, how greatly superior Elliot is to 
 me. I have never attempted to restrain 
 my admiration of him, and am now
 
 70 THE WIFE AND 
 
 dissatisfied he is superior to that trifling 
 which men of less intrinsic merit are 
 obliged to have recourse to, when they 
 wish to please ; and that he does me also 
 the honour of supposing me capable of 
 appreciating his merits without having 
 to call in aid the high-flown language of 
 romance. With these reflections, Caro- 
 line's mind became sufficiently com- 
 posed to repair to Lady Delamore, for 
 the purpose of consulting her on the 
 answer to be sent. 
 
 It is not impossible that a little en- 
 couragement might have induced Caro- 
 line, if not to reject entirely, at least 
 from the indifference rather too appa- 
 rent in the proposal, to demand time to 
 consider of it. No opening did Lady 
 Delamore afford for hinting at even the 
 possibility of such a measure. Her sa- 
 tisfaction, her congratulations, the kind- 
 ness of her expressions, the joy which
 
 THE FKIENDS. 71 
 
 danced in her eye ; the ecstasies of her 
 lord, the delight of the servants ; all 
 bewildered the imagination of Caroline. 
 Her half-formed project of rejecting 
 Lord Elliot vanished from her mind ; 
 the contagion of bliss affected her, and 
 for a very short time sue thought herself 
 the happiest of women, in the arms of 
 those who were to be her parents, who 
 had so well acted the part towards her 
 without the name, and who now, calling 
 her by the endearing title of daugh- 
 ter, thanked heaven for having bestow- 
 ed such a blessing upon them. 
 
 Lord Elliot was not a sharer of the 
 general joy ; and many hours after the 
 time in which his letter was read, did he 
 return from his morning's ride, to receive 
 the answer. Infinite composure did he 
 manifest at the favourable result, which 
 tone of feeling did not abandon him in 
 his first interview with Caroline, in the
 
 72 THE WIFE AND 
 
 character of a lover. Her feelings were 
 very different ; and excepting being 
 aware that he took her hand, and spoke 
 a few words, she was much too agitated 
 to know their sense, or whether her 
 hand was not more warmly held than at 
 the first time she ever saw him. 
 
 The interview took place just before 
 dinner, where they were joined by a 
 neighbouring family, part of which con- 
 sisted in a forward boy of fourteen, who 
 declaimed so eloquently on hunting and 
 shooting, no one else of the party had 
 cause to utter a word ; a subject of con- 
 gratulation to Caroline, who felt herself 
 quite incapable of bearing any part in 
 conversation. For this reason she bore 
 no enmity to the youth, who thrust him- 
 self into the chair by her side, much to 
 Lady Delamore's annoyance, who made 
 some attempts to remove him in favour 
 of her son ; neither of the parties most
 
 AND FRIENDS. 73 
 
 interested affording her any encourage- 
 ment, she was obliged to desist. 
 
 Caroline's disposition was lively and 
 little prone to view the dark side of any 
 prospect. Nevertheless, it required se- 
 veral days, perhaps more, to satisfy her- 
 self that she had not been precipitate in 
 accepting Lord Elliot. Her acquaint- 
 ance with him had been short, and her 
 knowledge of his character depended 
 entirely upon the opinion of others ; to 
 be sure, that opinion was highly favour- 
 able. It was the good opinion of his 
 parents which had prejudiced her most 
 in his favour ; but she was obliged to 
 confess that, putting aside the natural 
 partiality towards an only child, they 
 had lately had not greater opportunities 
 of judging of his character than herself. 
 For six years they had been separated ; 
 from three to nine-and-twenty, what 
 changes might have taken place in his 
 
 vol. I. E
 
 74 THE WIFE 
 
 disposition, temper, feelings ! how little 
 might he now be what his early youth 
 had promised ! and an uncertain, vague 
 opinion possessed her that he was altered. 
 She knew that, as far as regarded those 
 beneath him, his manners had once been 
 far more popular than they now were : 
 she had heard remarks which seemed to 
 lament the change which had taken 
 place, and stories would sometimes arise 
 in general conversation, though Lord 
 Elliot always discouraged their relation, 
 which showed he was once fond of so- 
 ciety and amusement, Why then was 
 he changed? and if in these respects, 
 might not the alteration extend to 
 points of greater importance ? For some 
 time, these and similar reflections dwelt 
 on Caroline's mind ; but they came too 
 late. She dared not retract even if she 
 wished it — her fate was decided : it was 
 her disposition to be content, and her
 
 AND FRIENDS. 75 
 
 interest to regard only the most smiling 
 side of the picture ; which, perhaps, 
 when considered attentively, had quite 
 sufficient charms to counterbalance the 
 little imperfections of the piece, to which 
 Caroline could not be blind, though she 
 had sense to perceive that the indulgence 
 of such feelings would be foolish, perhaps 
 criminal. 
 
 Without being a very warm lover, 
 Lord Elliot was a pleasant one. His 
 conversation, when he chose to exert 
 himself, was agreeable and sensible : he 
 had read and seen much, and detailed 
 what he knew with exactitude and force. 
 Caroline had the greatest thirst for in- 
 formation, and was never weary of list- 
 ening to him ; but it required some 
 little art to draw from him as full ac- 
 counts as would satisfy her ; for Lord 
 Elliot, with all his wish to please, and at 
 this time he did wish to please Caroline, 
 E 2
 
 76 THE WIFE 
 
 could with difficulty be brought to re- 
 linquish his habitual and beloved taci- 
 turnity. Their mornings were chiefly 
 devoted to riding or driving, their even- 
 ings to chess, or Lord Elliot read aloud. 
 In this manner time moved on, without 
 either party manifesting any violent im- 
 patience for the arrival of that period 
 which would unite them for ever. 
 
 Their approaching marriage soon be- 
 came a general topic of discourse in all 
 circles where Lord Elliot, or his future 
 bride, had ever been known or heard of; 
 and, on the whole, it was discussed with 
 less malevolence than is usually the case 
 when a girl, without sixpence, whose 
 good fortune can be alone attributed to 
 her looks, obtains a rich and titled hus- 
 band. The truth was, the young ladies 
 knew so little of Lord Elliot, that they 
 could not suppose, with all their self- 
 love, that, had he not married Caroline,
 
 AND FRIENDS. 77 
 
 he might have chosen one of them ; and 
 they were not sorry, at any rate, to get rid 
 of a dangerous rival in their matrimonial 
 speculations, without any of their favou- 
 rite beaux being sacrificed. As to the 
 young men, many, if not most, consi- 
 dered that marriage could not take from 
 her beauty and agreeableness, while it 
 would greatly facilitate their means of 
 making love to her. 
 
 A short time before his marriage was 
 to take place, Lord Elliot wrote to his 
 friend Mr. Graham as follows : 
 
 " I implore you never again to ho- 
 nour me with the title of lover — that of 
 husband will, in a few days, be added 
 to my dignity. If all marriages depend 
 for their felicity on passion, I and my 
 destined bride have little chance of hap- 
 piness, which I should be sorry for ; not 
 on my own account, for I have long
 
 78 THE WIFE 
 
 been dead to the world, and all its joys 
 and sorrows, but on Caroline's. She, I 
 hope, will be content. If she is a wo- 
 man of sense, and such I believe her to 
 be, her situation will afford her a thou- 
 sand sources from whence to draw hap- 
 piness for herself and others ; if she is 
 not, why then she will be like the gene- 
 rality of her sex, who try to make it 
 believed that their husbands are tyrants, 
 and they themselves superior to their sta- 
 tion, however exalted that state may be. 
 " Still I should not repent my union. 
 I am not in love ; and I would rather 
 suffer the penance of a foolish wife, than 
 that some honest fellow, more capable of 
 happiness, and consequently disappoint- 
 ment, should be in my place. At all 
 events, now I please my parents. How- 
 ever, 1 have no fears with regard to 
 Caroline. I believe her to be an amia- 
 ble girl, with an easy disposition, soon
 
 AND FRIENDS. 79 
 
 pleased, and content with every body 
 and every thing, which I may well ima- 
 gine, as she has done me the honour of 
 liking a woe-begone visage, which might 
 fright most young ladies from my pre- 
 sence, much more from a nearer con- 
 nexion. You say, you hear she is hand- 
 some. I am no judge, but should rather 
 think not, for she is perfectly unaffected; 
 and I never knew but one woman who, 
 with great personal charms, was so ! If 
 you can conveniently quit home, it 
 would be a great pleasure to me, the 
 having you present at my nuptials. It 
 is always the custom for near and dear 
 friends to be present on such occasions. 
 What dearer friend have I on earth 
 than you ?" 
 
 It was early in the month of January, 
 that one fine winter's morning beheld 
 a vast assemblage collected in the cha-
 
 80 THE WIFE 
 
 pel of Delamore Castle. They consisted 
 chiefly of Lord Delamore's tenants ; but 
 amongst them were a few rather ap- 
 proaching to the character of gentry, 
 attracted by curiosity or respect for the 
 noble family of Elliot. The object of 
 their meeting was to witness the mar- 
 riage of the heir of the Castle to Miss 
 Montagu. 
 
 In time, the bride and bridegroom 
 made their appearance, attended by all 
 the bridal party. Caroline's extreme 
 beauty, as she walked up the aisle, sup- 
 ported by Lord Delamore, attracted 
 universal attention, and a murmur of 
 approbation was heard from every side. 
 She was followed by two girls as 
 bridesmaids, whose youth and beauty 
 excited no small interest, particularly 
 the elder, in whose thoughtful coun- 
 tenance seemed to be written, that sor- 
 row and she were already acquainted.
 
 AND FRIENDS. 81 
 
 Lucy and Emily Fitz-Edward, the one 
 seventeen, the other twelve years of age, 
 were Caroline's nearest relations, their 
 mother and her own being sisters : they 
 were, like herself, orphans, but, unlike 
 herself, had to suffer more from the super- 
 fluity of relatives than the want of them. 
 They were left to the care or caprice of 
 a numerous race of uncles and aunts, 
 amongst whom, rather than with whom, 
 they lived. Latterly Emily had been 
 placed at school ; but Lucy continued 
 to reside with any of her more prosper- 
 ous family who chose to have her com- 
 pany. Her many amiable qualities 
 strongly endeared her to Caroline, who, 
 as one good that might result from her 
 marriage, anticipated the pleasure her 
 matronly character would give her, of 
 showing her friendship by deeds as well 
 as words. 
 
 The important ceremony at length 
 e 5
 
 82 THE WIFE 
 
 began ; and though much curtailed from 
 its original length, yet Caroline had 
 hardly power to command her feelings 
 whilst it lasted. 
 
 Marriage is an awful event, and has 
 that in it which might intimidate the 
 stoutest heart, or most frivolous mind, 
 much more a girl hardly nineteen, and 
 capable of reflection. Her little store of 
 earthly good is embarked at a venture ; 
 it may be increased many fold, — it may 
 be lost for ever. Once only did Caro- 
 line venture, during the performance, to 
 raise her eyes to Lord Elliot, the com- 
 posure of whose countenance might 
 have reassured his timid bride. His 
 habitual gloom seemed to have given 
 way to a devotional feeling ; his eyes 
 were raised, and his thoughts abstracted 
 from every other consideration than 
 that of joining in a most impressive 
 religious rite. Caroline, ashamed of her
 
 AND FRIENDS. 83 
 
 own very contrary feelings, and deter- 
 mined to curb the wanderings of her 
 mind, bent her eyes to the ground ; be- 
 fore, however, they fairly reached the 
 earth, a glance from one of the company 
 had met her gaze : — it was so keen and 
 serious a look, that for the moment a 
 tinge of colour swept over her hitherto 
 pallid cheek ; and though the stranger's 
 face made no impression on her memory, 
 his glance, which seemed to penetrate 
 her soul, was not soon forgotten. This 
 stranger was Mr. Graham, the intimate 
 friend of Lord Elliot ; he arrived only 
 the night before, too late to be presented 
 to the wife elect of his friend. 
 
 Perhaps the intimate knowledge of 
 him to whom she was uniting herself, 
 may have made him view Caroline with 
 peculiar interest : he was also married, and 
 the world whispered that his marriage 
 was not a happy one,— it was but a
 
 84 THE WIFE 
 
 whisper, and his invariable cheerfulness 
 and domestic habits seemed to bring no 
 confirmation of the idea, though his 
 present seriousness of aspect, and an 
 emotion he could not conceal, gave more 
 credibility to such a surmise than gene- 
 ral appearances warranted. 
 
 To spare the pains of a prolonged 
 leave-taking, it had been previously 
 arranged, that the new-married pair 
 should immediately after the ceremony, 
 depart for a hunting-lodge, where they 
 were, according to custom, to spend 
 the honeymoon ; and Caroline was 
 hardly conscious that all was over ere 
 she found herself seated in the car- 
 riage by Lord Elliot's side. The people 
 cheered, the children screamed, the dogs 
 barked, the bells rung; from all these 
 various noises the celerity of four fleet 
 steeds speedily conveyed them ; and, in 
 the tranquillity which succeeded, Caro-
 
 AND FRIENDS. 85 
 
 line had ample time to reflect on the im- 
 portant change which had taken place 
 in her situation. Whether such tran- 
 quillity was emblematic of her future 
 life, the following pages must show. 
 
 At Delamore Castle, the nuptial day 
 was one of joy and festivity. But all 
 days, however happy, must have an end. 
 So thought Lord and Lady Delamore, 
 when evening was closed, and their 
 guests had departed ; for the agitation 
 at the beginning of the day made them 
 hardly able to perform the fatiguing 
 parts of hosts for the remainder. Their 
 happiness was, however, as perfect as 
 any in this world can be, and with- 
 out any amalgamation of doubt that 
 what they had so much desired and 
 now witnessed the completion of, could 
 be productive of aught but good. So 
 little does length of years conduce to 
 worldly knowledge !
 
 86 THE WIFE 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 When Caroline reflected on the little 
 probability that a few weeks back had 
 presented of her ever becoming the wife 
 of Lord Elliot, to find herself actually 
 united to him, excited her wonder and 
 gratitude that she should have been ex- 
 empted from the disappointment which 
 usually attends those who dare, un- 
 sought, to bestow their affections. Caro- 
 line's disposition was formed for tender- 
 ness ; her feelings were warm, not ro- 
 mantic ; she wished not to be idolized, 
 but to be loved : and in her husband she
 
 AND FRIENDS. 87 
 
 desired to find more a friend and protec- 
 tor than a lover, who would first spoil and 
 then blame her for being what his own 
 blind folly had rendered her. Notwith- 
 standing her little elevation of ideas on 
 a point which most ladies, particularly 
 in the first weeks of marriage, imagine 
 cannot be stretched too far, still she 
 thought that Lord Elliot might with ad- 
 vantage have relaxed a little of his dis- 
 passionate manner, without diminishing 
 his dignity. With no little sensibility 
 and a feeling heart, he seemed to exist as 
 if he dreaded their influence ; and as it 
 has been said, one should live with one's 
 friends as if they were some day to 
 be one's enemies, Caroline penetrated, 
 without comprehending, this singularity 
 of character. Open, sincere, and no- 
 wise prone to suspicion herself, she 
 could not comprehend that Lord Elliot 
 entertained distrust not only of mankind
 
 88 THE WJFE 
 
 in general, but also of himself and of 
 her It created in her, however, a firm 
 resolve, that no endeavour should be 
 wanting on her part, no attention or 
 proof of affection spared, no talent or 
 acquirement concealed, to show her 
 husband that she was in every way 
 worthy of his heart and confidence, and 
 to remove that bane to all friendly in- 
 tercourse — reserve ! # No doubt of suc- 
 cess crossed her mind ; she had not to 
 learn the power of beauty joined to wis- 
 dom, but she had yet to discover that 
 their influence is limited. 
 
 After two months' absence, the Elliots 
 returned to Delamore Castle. Their ar- 
 rival was an event of no small import- 
 ance to the neighbourhood, who imme- 
 diately flocked to pay their respects to, 
 
 * Reserve is the bane of friendly intercourse ; the source 
 of error, and the support of prejudice. 
 
 Dr. Beattie.
 
 AND PRIENDS. 89 
 
 and gratify their curiosity with a sight 
 of, the newly married pair, many secret- 
 ly wishing that Caroline, to render the 
 visit more interesting at the time, and 
 entertaining in description, would give 
 herself great airs on the strength of her 
 new dignity, or look as if already the 
 temper of her lord had created some un- 
 easiness. Lord Elliot's gravity was, in 
 
 the county of , as is the case in 
 
 many other counties as well as coun- 
 tries, always attributed to bad tem- 
 per. The world frequently make this 
 mistake, and are equally prone to give 
 credit to a constant smile as a proof of 
 an amiable disposition, which habit, art, 
 or indifference as often produce as good 
 humour. The kind desires of some, I will 
 not say of all the neighbourhood, were 
 disappointed. Lady Elliot looked very 
 much as she had ever done: no linger- 
 ing sorrow appeared on her countenance,
 
 90 THE WIFE 
 
 and her manners were simple, lively, 
 and good-humoured, as they had ever 
 been. 
 
 Of Lord Elliot nothing was to be told, 
 as nothing was known. Not one favour- 
 ed being had the honour of being ad- 
 mitted into his presence ; and, as it was 
 supposed that accident was not the sole 
 cause of such uniform ill luck, his Lord- 
 ship's popularity, which had been gra- 
 dually in a declining state, sustained an 
 additional declension. 
 
 Parliament summoned Lord Elliot to 
 London, early in April. Caroline wish- 
 ed to accompany him, for her confidence 
 in her powers of pleasing was not so 
 decided as to make her indifferent to 
 the effects of absence on a heart she 
 suspected of but a feeble flame. Her 
 desires were of no avail when opposed 
 by all the old women, doctors, and apo-
 
 AND FRIENDS. 91 
 
 thecaries in the neighbourhood, who, 
 one and all, proclaimed such a journey 
 extremely hazardous. Lady Delamore 
 was precisely of the same opinion, and 
 poor Caroline was obliged to submit to 
 see her lord depart without her, rather 
 than that the hopes of the family should 
 be endangered: she had not even the 
 consolation of reflecting with certainty 
 on Lord Elliot's regretting her absence. 
 
 Soon after Lord Elliot's departure, Ca- 
 roline was agreeably surprised by a visit 
 from her cousin, Lucy Fitz-Edward. 
 
 The news of his lady being too indis- 
 posed to accompany Lord Elliot to town, 
 had reached Miss Fitz-Edward, in Gros- 
 venor Square, where she was an inhabi- 
 tant of one of the gayest and most 
 dissipated houses in that lively quarter 
 of the metropolis, but of whose plea- 
 sures she was no farther a partaker than
 
 92 THE WIFE 
 
 through the details of her aunt and cou- 
 sins ; for, though bordering on eighteen, 
 she was considered far too young to be 
 admitted into any society but that of 
 the school-room, where she was strictly 
 immured until her older but not so 
 highly favoured cousins were disposed 
 of in marriage— a period which present 
 appearances rendered far from likely to 
 occur soon. Her uncle, Lord Gauntlet, 
 entered not into this female illiberality, 
 and his determination of her dining 
 down-stairs, made his lady as determin- 
 ed that if she did, it should not be in 
 her house ; and accordingly she warmly 
 recommended Lucy's visiting her cousin, 
 facilitated her journey in every possible 
 way, hired a carriage, lent her her own 
 footman, paid the whole expenses, was, 
 in short, a pattern of kindness, good-na- 
 ture, and generosity; received the thanks
 
 AND FRIENDS. 93 
 
 of her niece with the best grace possible, 
 and imposed upon nobody as to her 
 motives. 
 
 Accustomed to an active life, and 
 little used to illness, Caroline's present 
 state singularly depressed her spirits, and 
 rendered such a companion as Lucy, al- 
 ways acceptable, now most particularly 
 welcome. For a long period unhabi- 
 tuated to the reception she met with at 
 Delamore Castle, Lucy again felt the 
 exquisite pleasure of loving and being 
 loved by those with whom we dwell ; 
 to which was added, the satisfaction of 
 being useful, which had never fallen to 
 her lot since the death of her parents. 
 To them she had been nurse, friend, 
 companion ; but with them seemed to 
 have been buried all her importance in 
 the world — all her powers, all her vir- 
 tues, as far as display went ; the nega-
 
 94 THE WIFE 
 
 tive ones of patience and forbearance, 
 indeed, were amply called into use at her 
 uncle's, Lord Gauntlet's residence. 
 
 Lord Elliot remained some weeks in 
 London. Parties ran high ; and though 
 always in the minority in every ques- 
 tion, he felt, as in gaming, that one un- 
 lucky hit only increases the avidity of 
 the player, in hopes that the day of suc- 
 cess will at length arrive. In the midst 
 of a very flourishing scheme for shaking 
 the Ministers to their foundation, ti- 
 dings reached Lord Elliot, that a person 
 who very little occupied his thoughts, 
 his wife, was alarmingly ill. Accus- 
 tomed to see her well and happy, the 
 idea had never entered his lordship's 
 mind of the ease by which the transi- 
 tions from joy to sorrow, health to sick- 
 ness, take place. He possessed a morbid 
 sensibility when illness was concerned, 
 whoever might be the person, which
 
 AND FRIENDS. 95 
 
 made him think more of Caroline sick, 
 and with greater interest than at any 
 other period of their acquaintance, not 
 excepting that moment when he first 
 held her in his arms as his wedded wife. 
 As he journeyed to the North, her danger 
 was never absent from his mind: his 
 feelings need not be mistaken; they 
 were not even those of a brother ; they 
 were those of a compassionate philan- 
 thropist. The study of mankind had 
 not been, of late years, one of the em- 
 ployments of Lord Elliot, whether pro- 
 ceeding from indifference or indolence. 
 With the character of Caroline he was 
 little acquainted: he saw her gay, and 
 therefore judged her happy; and to be 
 so easily pleased gave him an indifferent 
 idea of her understanding and sensi- 
 bility. On the road, a letter met Lord 
 Elliot ; his wife was out of danger. On 
 his arrival, the good tidings were con-
 
 96 THE WIFE 
 
 firmed ; all was going on well. Still 
 some interest hung over her state ; and 
 after a brief interview with his parents, 
 he flew up to the apartment of Caro- 
 line. The remembrance of the last sick 
 room he had visited rushed to his mind, 
 as he opened the door, and beheld the 
 subdued light within. The most pro- 
 found silence reigned. On a couch, at 
 the farthest extremity of the room, Ca- 
 roline lay extended, in a gentle slumber. 
 The windows were partly closed, and the 
 room so obscured, that only the outline 
 of her figure was visible. Her hair hung 
 loosely over her shoulders ; and as if the 
 little light which found entrance was 
 painful to her eyes, the slender fingers 
 of one hand were stretched over them ; 
 the other, white as marble, lay extended 
 by her side. Her gentle breathings were 
 hardly discernible, and her whole ap- 
 pearance might have denoted the sleep
 
 AND FRIENDS. 97 
 
 of death. Lord Elliot sunk on his knees 
 by the couch ; the fair hand was pressed 
 with devotional fervour whilst a name — 
 only a name— passed his lips — Therese ! 
 
 The action awoke Caroline, who, no- 
 wise displeased, though surprised at the 
 attitude of him she loved, asked, as she 
 returned the warm pressure of his hand, 
 
 "Have we been so long separated, 
 that my name is lost to your memory .? 
 —why Therese?" 
 
 The sound of her voice dissipated the 
 delusion. Lord Elliot started from the 
 ground ; to explain was impossible ; one 
 way alone remained, and, as he pressed 
 the willing and unsuspecting Caroline to 
 his heart, the agitation of his counte- 
 nance was concealed from her view by 
 the closeness of his embrace. Most 
 thankful was Caroline for an illness 
 which seemed to have raised such 
 kindly feelings in the bosom of her 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 THE WIFE 
 
 lord, whose agitated and fatigued ap- 
 pearance wrought upon a mind easily- 
 moved by any shadow of kindness, as a 
 most touching proof of attention ; her 
 acknowledgments were so animated, as 
 to lead Lord Elliot to imagine that his 
 journey had been more hurried than the 
 occasion justified. 
 
 Though somewhat a sceptic as to the 
 necessity of the great care ordained by 
 Lady Delamore, and all in authority 
 under her, who had taken terrible alarm 
 at Caroline's late illness, she had far too 
 much good nature to act in disobedience 
 to their laws, not for her own sake, but 
 that Lord and Lady Delamore should 
 be free from fear as to their hopes 
 being frustrated by imprudence on her 
 part. However, it was a great sacrifice ; 
 and sometimes an half envious sensation 
 would pass the apparently prosperous 
 Lady Elliot's mind, when she viewed
 
 AND FRIENDS. 99 
 
 the humble wife, whose lowly lot com- 
 manded little earthly good, trusting in 
 Him who seeth in secret, without whose 
 aid the art of man is vain, and with 
 whom the ignorant are all-sufficient. 
 
 Education, habits of employment, and 
 books, are never so much prized as in the 
 confinement of a sick-chamber; Caroline's 
 could hardly be called such, but she was 
 almost always at home, and many hours of 
 the day quite alone. Lucy had left her ; 
 her parents had then own employments, 
 and Lord Elliot, whether from restless- 
 ness or activity of spirit, was seldom easy 
 but when engaged in some pursuit out 
 of doors, and was hardly a day within, 
 unless confined by outrageously bad wea- 
 ther or fatigue. At such times, it was 
 not Caroline's society he sought ; he 
 would shut himself up in his study, 
 when his attentions to his father and 
 mother allowed, in which sanctum sanc- 
 f 2
 
 100 THE WIFE 
 
 torum, amidst papers and pamphlets, his 
 door was closed even on his wife. Lord 
 Elliot had talents, had knowledge ; he 
 had seen and read much, but he commu- 
 nicated little ; and it seemed often pain- 
 ful for him to converse even with his own 
 family. With strangers, his manners 
 were repulsive, unless the topic was poli- 
 tics ; then his whole nature was changed ; 
 his sparkling eye and expressive lan- 
 guage proclaimed the ascendency of this 
 powerful passion, Caroline knew nothing 
 of politics ; she could not therefore profit 
 by such temporary fits of animation. She 
 loved and respected her lord, but his 
 otherwise grave deportment intimidated 
 her daily more and more ; his presence 
 checked the laugh which had arisen to 
 her lips ; and words, that with the quick- 
 ness of light were no sooner thought than 
 uttered by Caroline Montagu, a glance
 
 AND FRIENDS. 101 
 
 from her lord confined for ever to the 
 bosom of Lady Elliot. 
 
 Lady Delamore's care and Caroline's 
 patience were at length rewarded ; she 
 became the mother of a boy. Great was 
 the pleasure this event occasioned. Every 
 body rejoiced, and even Lord Elliot, as 
 he held his infant son in his arms, ex- 
 hibited a satisfaction which rarely visited 
 his countenance. The feeling was how- 
 ever transitory ; for in one moment, even 
 in the midst of the celebration of the 
 happy event, joy was converted into the 
 most poignant sorrow. The child was 
 hardly four weeks old when the good 
 and kind Lord Delamore was alike in- 
 sensible to all pleasure and pain ; he was 
 afflicted with a stroke of the palsy ; and 
 though the vital spark did not imme- 
 diately quit its earthly tenement, yet 
 from that hour his life could be only
 
 102 THE WIFE 
 
 considered a lingering death. It was 
 lengthened many months, during which 
 time no ray of intellect ever returned 
 to cheer his unhappy wife and children. 
 All was at last over! and the grave 
 closed on one whose object was to be 
 loved rather than admired. The tears of 
 the crowds who followed his remains to 
 the tomb, were a higher compliment to 
 his memory than the most costly monu- 
 ment or exaggerated epitaph : the good 
 Lord Delamore was never forgotten. It 
 was not so much his princely bounty, 
 erroneously supposed to be the only road 
 to vulgar hearts, for his successor's flowed 
 in even a more liberal channel ; it was 
 his humanity, cheerfulness, affability, 
 and freedom from pride, that gained 
 him all hearts ; by which gentle means, 
 all beneath Lord Delamore were as 
 much devoted to him as ever were the 
 clan of a Highland chief by the less 
 amiable power of hereditary rank.
 
 AND FRTENDS. 103 
 
 Lady Delamore did not long survive 
 her lord. From the first moment of 
 his seizure, she had attended him with 
 a strength both of body and mind which, 
 for the period of his life, never failed 
 her : she was supported in her painful 
 duty by the idea that he would recover : 
 but when at length all hope was over, 
 when the grave closed upon the compa- 
 nion of her joys and sorrows for so many, 
 many years, — when the cause of her ex- 
 ertions was removed, her enfeebled frame 
 and broken spirit became manifest. 
 
 The attention, kindness, and anxiety 
 of her son and Caroline cheered the last 
 days, but could not prolong her life : 
 she expired in their arms : her last prayer 
 was breathed for their welfare, mingled 
 with supplications that the happiness 
 she and her lord had enjoyed might 
 be continued in them.
 
 104 THE WIFE 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Manifestation of grief is as various 
 as the human mind, and in different 
 persons equal sensibility is very differ- 
 ently demonstrated. Lord Delamore's 
 (for such our hero must now be called) 
 sorrow for the loss he and Caroline had 
 mutually sustained and mutually felt, was 
 silent, unobtrusive, and profound ; his 
 dejection was confined to his own bosom, 
 and sought no sympathy from others. 
 The world was to him a scene of trial, 
 in which we are called to bear our part 
 without repining, not neglecting any
 
 AND FRIENDS. 105 
 
 customary duty, and not unmindful 
 that the death of the virtuous is matter 
 of rejoicing rather than of sorrow. Such 
 were not Caroline's feelings ; she was one, 
 as the amiable Lady Russel expresses 
 it, " amazed with grief," which nearly 
 at first approached to despair ; unlike 
 her husband, she had no necessity of 
 employment to arouse her from her 
 sorrows ; she had no occupation but to 
 mourn. Weeping and alone, she wan- 
 dered through the now, to her, desolate 
 apartments, lamenting those that were 
 gone, retracing with regret the happy 
 years she had spent with them, and look- 
 ing to those that were to come, deprived of 
 their protection, with dismay. Caroline 
 was a wife and a mother : she was not 
 therefore, in fact, desolate ; she had ties 
 to attach her to life : alas ! it was one 
 of those very ties which forbade the 
 current of her grief from being as- 
 f 5
 
 106 THE WIFE 
 
 suaged, which made, to her, the loss of 
 Lord and Lady Delamore irreparable ; 
 the link was severed which united her 
 to her husband. The first years of a 
 married life are not a blank in the ex- 
 istence of either man or woman ; judging 
 from that period, the colour of many 
 future days may be predicted. The 
 violence of passion is over, and a calmer, 
 more lasting sentiment takes its place ; 
 it may be friendship, warm, generous 
 friendship ; it may be, and how often 
 has it not been, indifference ! 
 
 In Caroline's and Lord Delamore's 
 case, it is to be hoped it was not the 
 latter ; but much was wanting to render 
 it the former, at least on his part Caro- 
 line still loved ; but love will fade with- 
 out some small return. In marrying 
 Lord Delamore, Caroline had never con- 
 sidered the death of his parents as likely
 
 AND FRIENDS. 107 
 
 to take place for many, many years ; nor 
 did she, in the least, anticipate the arrival 
 of that period when their son would be 
 her only protector, and his good or bad 
 feelings her sole dependence for the hap- 
 piness or misery of her life. This period 
 was now arrived ; and it found Caroline 
 weeping over the remains of those who 
 had been as parents to her, with that 
 heart-rending feeling which would make 
 death almost a relief. The friendship of 
 Lucy Fitz-Edward, and of her own boy, 
 would bring momentary satisfaction to 
 her mind; but Lucy was far away, and 
 her child was too young to divert her 
 mind from the cause of all her sorrow 
 — its father — who was ever present to 
 her thoughts. The seclusion in which 
 they lived was favourable to meditation ; 
 and the melancholy conviction was the 
 result, that whether separate or together.
 
 108 THE WIFE 
 
 in society or alone, in sorrow or in joy, 
 but one character pervaded Lord Dela- 
 more's conduct to his wife — want of 
 affection. 
 
 A medical gentleman, who, during 
 the illness of the last lord, had become 
 nearly domesticated in the family, drew 
 Lord Delam ore's attention to the dejec- 
 tion of his wife, which seemed likely to 
 undermine her health as well as happi- 
 ness, and took upon himself to recom- 
 mend the expediency of change of air 
 and scene, hinting that her ladyship 
 probably languished for the pleasures of 
 the metropolis, from which she had been 
 so long excluded. Lord Delamore list- 
 ened without much apparent interest, 
 and believed what was stated, without 
 giving himself much trouble to consider 
 the case. He made no question that the 
 physician was right, and ordered his 
 house in London to be got ready for the
 
 AND FRIENDS. 109 
 
 reception of his family accordingly. Caro- 
 line heard of his intention, without any 
 great manifestation of delight. Lord 
 Delamore, for a moment, doubted if he 
 was right ; but as, in a few days, her 
 countenance wore greater marks of ani- 
 mation than it had lately done, his 
 doubts were put quietly to rest, and the 
 full conviction alone remained, that Ca- 
 roline's deep and protracted sorrow was 
 more for her secluded life than for the 
 loss of those to whom the seclusion was 
 owing. 
 
 Lord Delamore had just concluded 
 his breakfast, when, addressing his wife, 
 (who sat opposite to him, musing on the 
 opening Spring, which she was about to 
 abandon, in all its charms, for the very 
 different beauties of a London spring,) 
 he said, 
 
 " As you never went out in London 
 without a companion, why should you
 
 110 THE WIFE 
 
 not invite Miss Fitz-Edward to stay some 
 time with you ? You may be her cha- 
 peron, and, in some measure, she may 
 act as your's on your first outset into 
 life, in the character of a married wo- 
 man." 
 
 " You are very kind. Most happy, 
 indeed, shall I be to have Lucy with 
 me ; though, as far as myself is con- 
 cerned, I desire no better chaperon, or 
 companion, than yourself !" 
 
 Lord Delamore started back with 
 astonishment. " Me ! — me, a chaperon ! 
 — me, a frequenter of routs and balls ! — 
 I beg to know, Caroline, what you 
 have seen in my conduct to raise such 
 an expectation ?" 
 
 " Nothing, upon my word !" replied 
 Caroline, faintly smiling ; " but I did 
 not know but that, in London, you 
 might be quite a different person from 
 what you are here, and adopt the man-
 
 AND FRIENDS. Ill 
 
 ners and customs of those with whom 
 we shall live." 
 
 "Such being your idea," — and no 
 judge, in passing sentence on a trembling 
 criminal, looked more serious than Lord 
 Delamore — " such being your idea, I 
 am glad to have an opportunity of ex- 
 plaining to you what, from your know- 
 ledge of my habits and disposition, I 
 should not have deemed necessary. I 
 am not very likely to adopt any man- 
 ners contrary to those you have always 
 observed in me : assemblies, crowds, 
 amusements, all that is termed society, 
 is my abhorrence ; in such promiscuous 
 scenes I suppose you are able to guide 
 yourself without my aid, and where, I 
 presume, my company cannot be your 
 only object. Our tastes are different; 
 and as it is the excess of any pursuit 
 which makes the danger and possible 
 criminality, both, rationally pursued, may
 
 112 THE WIFE 
 
 be profitable as well as agreeable. Your 
 inclination leads you into the world for 
 that pleasure which I find in retirement 
 and books ; with your's I shall never in- 
 terfere ; be equally charitable to my more 
 savage taste." 
 
 " Far from wishing to interfere with, 
 I should be more inclined to adapt my 
 tastes to your's, and to accommodate 
 myself to you in every possible way." 
 " I do not demand such a sacrifice." 
 " The sacrifice of what one knows 
 nothing about, is no great privation ; and 
 those very scenes you abhor, I hardly 
 am acquainted with. It is a good deal 
 more than three years since I felt that 
 flutter of spirits which a full orchestra 
 produces ; or that keener delight which 
 the violins in a London ball-room create. 
 The era of dissipation may be considered 
 over at the close of three months' en- 
 joyment, which brief time has now been
 
 AND FRIENDS. 113 
 
 extended to four years. I am therefore 
 quite at your service now, for whatever 
 you think me fit to partake ; and will 
 share your toils over Adam Smith, 
 Locke, Bacon, or any other worthy 
 whose works are as familiar to you as 
 household words." 
 
 Lord Delamore for a moment seemed 
 inclined to smile, but the smile vanished 
 to give place to a more dejected air 
 than ever. " My dearest Caroline, you 
 know not what you propose, — you know 
 not what you relinquish. Far be it 
 from me to rob you of any pleasure 
 you are yet able to enjoy : the world 
 is formed for such as you ; you can only 
 become such as I am, when life has lost 
 all its charms." 
 
 " Life !" exclaimed Caroline. 
 
 " Yes," said her lord, with some hesi- 
 tation, " that charm which novelty pro- 
 duces. — But you look grave, Caroline ;
 
 114 THE WIFE 
 
 you must assume a more cheerful air, 
 if you are to visit London ; a ride will 
 do you good." 
 
 Caroline did ride out, and Lord De- 
 lam ore was more attentive than usual ; 
 but what he said dwelt on her mind, 
 — that life had lost all its charms, 
 
 Caroline's proposal to Miss Fitz-Ed- 
 ward was not accepted. When my read- 
 ers (if such there be) have read her 
 answer, I beg them to transport them- 
 selves to London, where they will find 
 the heroine of this history the mistress 
 of a superb mansion, gay equipage, nu- 
 merous retinue, — in short, possessed of so 
 many of the apparent goods of fortune, 
 as to render her equally the envy as 
 well as admiration of the town. 
 
 Hampstead. 
 
 " So charming an offer deserves a bet- 
 ter return than I have it in my power
 
 AND FRIENDS. 115 
 
 to make ; and in declining your and 
 Lord Delam ore's kind invitation, I am 
 afraid I shall forfeit, in the estimation of 
 the world, all title to sense, and, what is 
 worse, to taste. The fact is, I have just 
 made an arrangement with my aunt, 
 Lady Mary Walters, by which, in fu- 
 ture, her home is to be mine : she has 
 had the great kindness, on my account, 
 to purchase a house in London, where 
 you will find me established, I believe, 
 when I have again the pleasure of em- 
 bracing you ; it would be out of the 
 question, therefore, my thinking of visit- 
 ing you, after my aunt's liberality. I 
 do not know if you ever met with Lady 
 Mary ; and as I flatter myself you are in- 
 terested in all my concerns, I am tempt- 
 ed to tell you her story, which will in- 
 clude the reasons of my abode with her. 
 "Lady Mary Fitz-Edward was the 
 second daughter of my grandfather,
 
 116 THE WIFE 
 
 the old Lord Gauntlet, and by far 
 the most beautiful and most talent- 
 ed of all his daughters — five in number. 
 On her introduction into the world, her 
 wit and beauty made no small sensation ; 
 according to the vulgar phrase, she was 
 very much admired ; and, according to 
 the vulgar expectation therefrom, very 
 great ideas were entertained of her fu- 
 ture prospects; all of which, however, 
 she disappointed, by very early in the 
 day bestowing her affections on a cer- 
 tain handsome Colonel Walters, a man 
 as perfect as man could be in all respects 
 save one — he was nobody ! his family 
 had wealth, but their money, alas ! was 
 obtained in trade ! Lord Gauntlet was 
 furious when the discovery took place 
 of his daughter's inclinations ; and he in- 
 formed her that, had her lover the pos- 
 session of the Indies, he would never con- 
 sent to so degrading an alliance. Lady 
 Mary wept, and implored, and promised
 
 AND FRIENDS. 117 
 
 to forget him if she could,— a promise, I 
 suppose, she found it difficult to keep, for, 
 after a few months of filial obedience in 
 avoiding her lover, a meeting once more 
 took place between the devoted pair, in 
 which Colonel Walters found little dif- 
 ficulty in persuading her to accompany 
 him to Scotland, where they were mar- 
 ried. 
 
 " It would be better for the moral of 
 my tale, perhaps, were I to add, that 
 this imprudent step was productive of 
 repentance and misery ; but the fact be- 
 ing otherwise, I must acknowledge that 
 Colonel Walters made the best of hus- 
 bands ; and that his family, notwith- 
 standing their descent, were very ami- 
 able, agreeable, respectable people, and 
 received his bride with every attention 
 and all the affection even her husband 
 could desire ; so that she would have 
 known truly perfect felicity, but for her 
 inexorable father: no ray of hope did
 
 118 THE WIFE 
 
 he ever allow to glimmer for an instant, 
 denoting forgiveness : his family, with 
 one exception, followed in the same 
 path, — the exception was my father. 
 He constantly advocated his sister's 
 cause, formed a friendship with her 
 husband, and for years attempted a re- 
 conciliation between them and his father 
 — it was vain ; the great marriages his 
 other daughters made, increased his dis- 
 taste for his plebeian son-in-law, and 
 Lord Gauntlet died unforgiving, and 
 neglectful of two of the best, most wor- 
 thy characters his family or any family 
 could produce. His death was follow- 
 ed by one of a very different character. 
 Colonel Walters, from the period of his 
 marriage, had had no call for his services 
 abroad — a subject of secret delight to his 
 wife, though not precisely so to her hus- 
 band ; he, however, made no display of 
 the feelings which attached him to his
 
 AND FRIENDS. 119 
 
 profession, and used every argument in 
 his power to console his wife when the 
 period did arrive, which sooner or later 
 Colonel Walters had always foreseen, 
 that commanded him on foreign ser- 
 vice. To argue with Lady Mary was 
 needless : she knew he must go ; but to 
 console her was impossible, for his dan- 
 ger was as evident as the necessity for 
 his departure. He went : the period of 
 anxiety was not long — a few weeks 
 brought the certainty of the very worst 
 of all the misery she had imagined 
 possible. Imprisonment, fatigue, anx- 
 iety, sickness, all she would now 
 have stipulated for, to know that he 
 existed : — every minor evil of a sol- 
 dier's life seemed nothing to that dread- 
 ful, overwhelming calamity — death in 
 action. 
 
 "To describe Lady Mary's despair, 
 would be impossible. After a long and
 
 120 THE WIFE 
 
 severe illness, she retired into Wales, 
 where the father of Colonel Walters 
 resided, to whom she entirely devoted 
 herself for the remainder of his days. 
 At his death, she was induced by my 
 father, who had frequently visited her, 
 to join us in London, where we then 
 resided— it was then I first saw her. 
 She was still very handsome: the vio- 
 lence of her grief was subdued to an 
 air of settled melancholy, which, how- 
 ever, was perfectly unobtrusive, and 
 very contrary to what had been the ori- 
 ginal character of her countenance ; for, 
 by nature, she was the gayest of the gay. 
 " By way of amusement, or render- 
 ing herself useful to my parents, who 
 were then, as they ever had been, strug- 
 gling with the misery of a narrow in- 
 come, to which was now added infirm 
 health, she took upon herself the office 
 of my instructor, a task which she was
 
 AND FRIENDS. 121 
 
 well able to perform; her long retire- 
 ment had given her ample opportuni- 
 ties of encouraging a love of study, 
 for a taste for which she was indebt- 
 ed to her husband's highly cultivated 
 mind, who was in all respects what 
 man should be, brave, accomplished, 
 tender, gentlemanlike, handsome. We 
 went to Lisbon, and my first sorrow 
 was parting from my aunt, to whom I 
 was become fondly attached. For some 
 years I heard little of her: my mother 
 died, as you know, at Lisbon. On the 
 death of my father, a few years after- 
 wards, my sister and myself returned 
 to England. 
 
 f* It was the fashion of the family to 
 be prodigal of offers of assistance and 
 protection ; Lady Mary alone stood aloof, 
 which disappointed me, who retained 
 the warmest regard for her. Her name 
 and connexions by marriage are still 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 THE WIFE 
 
 held in rather a contemptuous light by 
 our noble relations, and she feared their 
 powerful and more splendid protec- 
 tion might be withdrawn on finding 
 themselves united in common cause 
 with her. As time moved on, however, 
 and my sister and myself grew older, 
 and more to require their protection, it 
 has been, as you well know, gradually 
 diminishing both in reality and profes- 
 sion. Lady Mary was not unobservant 
 of this ; and the familiar intercourse of 
 a sick-chamber, in which we have been 
 lately joined, induced her to explain 
 the motives of her apparently former 
 cold behaviour, and to offer me to reside 
 entirely with her, in preference to the 
 precarious home which my uncle's house 
 has ever been to me, in point of comfort, 
 as well as actual stability. 
 
 "Need I describe the delight with 
 which I listened to such an offer, from
 
 aKd friends. 123 
 
 one who, much as I ever loved her, I am 
 now bound to, by the strongest ties of 
 gratitude, for her kindness to my dear 
 sister Emily ? The dear child caught the 
 scarlet fever at school : I flew instantly to 
 her, but my aunt was already stationed by 
 her bedside. She watched her night and 
 day, when my anxiety made me, I fear, a 
 sadly useless nurse, and when the fever 
 was so malignant, that the bulletins, 
 which my relatives in Grosvenor Square 
 commanded to be sent, were kept in qua- 
 rantine twenty-four hours before they 
 were read, and then strongly fumigated. 
 Very, very different were my aunt's 
 feelings and actions; I am firmly per- 
 suaded that her attention has saved the 
 dear girl's life ; she is now getting quite 
 well. We came here a week since with 
 Lady Mary ; and the calm, the peace, 
 and the satisfaction to be derived from 
 what many term a dull life, such as we 
 G 2
 
 124 THE WIFE 
 
 now lead, compared with that at my 
 uncle's, is most striking ; there, all was 
 hurry, agitation, petty distresses, and 
 petty pleasure ; abroad, all smiles .... 
 but it is wrong to tell tales out of school, 
 so peace to the faults of my kindred ! 
 With such an amiable aunt, pretty, kind 
 cousin, and good little sister, I am richer 
 than I deserve in worldly blessings, and 
 the voice of complaint should be banish- 
 ed from my lips. 
 
 " As to what you have heard of my 
 having spirited away my cousin Char- 
 lotte or Louisa Fitz-Edward's lover, 
 believe me, dear Caroline, this crime 
 cannot be laid to my charge. True it 
 is, that the Baronet's visits ceased in 
 Grosvenor Square about the time I 
 took my departure ; yet, I am free 
 to confess that another very important 
 personage in the gentleman's eyes, who 
 at that time quitted my uncle's service,
 
 AND FRIENDS. 125 
 
 namely, his cook, had greater influence 
 on Sir John's actions, I suspect, than 
 poor me; and my opinion is borne out 
 by the fact, that whenever, to the envy 
 of my cousins, and sorrow of the Mar- 
 chioness, he did me the honour of con- 
 versing, it was most generally the praises 
 of the culinary professor which he re- 
 sounded ; so much so, that, as my situa- 
 tion was somewhat equivocal, 1 have at 
 times doubted if he did not suspect me 
 of having some interest, as assistant or 
 apprentice, in the same noble depart- 
 ment as that of which the now departed 
 cook was the head."
 
 126 THE WIFE 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Without being very beautiful, or 
 very rich, or very lively, or, I might add, 
 very young, but only possessing all these 
 advantages in mediocrity, any woman 
 will find, in the society of a great capital, 
 that which attracts, captivates, and agi- 
 tates her mind in a very surprising de- 
 gree. This truth may be no compliment 
 to the intellect of the sex ; but, whether 
 so or not, every day's experience fur- 
 nishes evidences of it. If such is the 
 case, where there are merely the com- 
 mon temptations, and common attrac- 
 tions, what is to become of her who.
 
 AND FRIENDS. 127 
 
 like Lady Delamore, has beauty, wit, 
 wealth, youth, and rank; who is sur- 
 rounded by admirers, pursued by flat- 
 terers, courted and caressed ? The safe- 
 guards for such a woman are, a virtuous 
 attachment, a well-regulated mi rid, re- 
 ligion, or a cold disposition. In Caro- 
 line's case, one peculiar danger existed : 
 it was reported, and credited in the 
 world, that Lord Delamore was indif- 
 ferent to his wife ; and the world, what- 
 ever people may say who fear its scru- 
 tiny, and however it may exaggerate 
 some cases and extenuate others, lias 
 usually truth for the basis of its ru- 
 mours. Some people said Lord Dela- 
 more was a jealous husband ; some de- 
 clared him to be an unfaithful one ; 
 others averred that Caroline hated him, 
 and that he detested her, yet true it 
 was, they rarely met, never dined alone, 
 and then short tete-a-tetes were devoted 
 to family arrangements. Lord Dela-
 
 128 THE WIFE 
 
 more was polite; Lady Delamore good- 
 humoured; but the lynx eyes of the 
 world detected a restraint in her man- 
 ner to him, which gave food for the ma- 
 levolent, and, dare I write it ? hopes to 
 the profligate. 
 
 Caroline was often diverted by the 
 superior admiration she now excited in 
 her character of a married woman, to 
 what she had done in her former visit to 
 London. She then was not without 
 admirers ; but now she was adored. 
 Her talents were beyond all praise : if 
 she sung, the room was in raptures ; yet 
 it was the same which had often before 
 warbled away unheeded ; if she danced, 
 every one was delighted, and yet four 
 years back her steps had been far more 
 elastic, far more perfect, and animated 
 by a pleasurable sensation which the 
 dance rarely gives but to a very young 
 or a very happy mind. Men, who only
 
 AND FRIENDS. 129 
 
 flirted with Caroline Montagu, whom 
 they might have married, made positive 
 love to Lady Delamore, whom they could 
 not. In the gay crowds who followed 
 her, one individual was wanting. Lord 
 Delamore had never appeared with his 
 wife in public, except when they went 
 together to Court. From that time she 
 had been left to follow her own career ; 
 he alone seemed to regard her beauty 
 with indifference, to be ignorant of her 
 talents, unamused by her conversation, 
 and, what was far more reprehensible, 
 blind to the dangers which must ever 
 attend a young and lovely woman left 
 to her own guidance in a dazzling world, 
 full of snares and difficulties. Yet Ca- 
 roline, to have gained one word of his 
 approbation, would have turned with 
 contempt from the crowd : one smile 
 from him would have been more prized 
 than all the adulation which was daily, 
 G 5
 
 130 THE WIFE 
 
 nightly, poured into her mind; even 
 had he blamed her, she would have re- 
 joiced in the rebuke, as marking some 
 proof of interest : 
 
 " The vacant bosom's wilderness 
 Might thank the pang that makes it less.' 
 
 After a long absence, Lord Dorset 
 became once more an inhabitant of 
 England; and, whether from some re- 
 mains of his former partiality, or, what 
 is more probable, to follow the fashion 
 of the day, he immediately inlisted him- 
 self in the train of Caroline's admirers. 
 Three years in a foreign and dissolute 
 Court, had done all that such a period 
 could well do, in transforming a good- 
 natured, unpretending youth, into an 
 extravagant, vain, dissipated coxcomb. 
 In two respects he was unchanged; by 
 which particulars Lady Delamore iden- 
 tified her former lover: he was not
 
 AND FRIENDS. 131 
 
 wiser, though more knowing as to the 
 ways of the world ; and with such 
 knowledge, to his credit be it spo- 
 ken, he had not lost his former good- 
 nature. Though he gave himself un- 
 conscionable airs, and was abused by 
 every one when his back was turned — 
 yet, as he dressed well, danced well, play- 
 ed deeply, did not want for confidence in 
 his address to man or woman, was re- 
 ported to have had all the ladies in 
 love with him at the Court whence he 
 came, and was, in fact, a well-looking 
 young man, he was highly the fashion ; 
 and it added another pang of envy to 
 the many Lady Delamore had already 
 caused in sundry fair bosoms, that she 
 should at the first glance, as it was sup- 
 posed, have made a conquest of such a 
 prize as Lord Dorset. His attendance 
 upon her was unremitting : he lounged 
 away half the morning in her drawing-
 
 132 THE WIFE 
 
 room ; was by her side every evening , 
 swore she was the only woman in Eng- 
 land worth looking at, and was to be 
 seen every day in the Park and public 
 streets, talking earnestly about nothing 
 in her carriage window. Caroline was 
 at first amused, then tired, and lastly, 
 habituated to his attentions. His love, 
 she quickly penetrated, had nothing of 
 the genuine character it formerly pos- 
 sessed. To follow the fashion, he was 
 her slave; he wore his coat of a pecu- 
 liar pattern, from the same reason ; had 
 he found her married to some one of 
 low degree, a distant nod would have 
 probably been the footing on which he 
 would have placed their acquaintance. 
 In one respect, she liked his society ; he 
 could talk to her of former days at Dela- 
 more Castle— days gone, never to return. 
 Lord Delamore greeted his former 
 friend with great cordiality, and gave
 
 AND FRIENDS. 133 
 
 him so many invitations to his table, 
 that he seemed never absent from his 
 house. Not to be intimate, seeing so 
 much of him, would have been impossi- 
 ble for Caroline, and such intimacy af- 
 forded a fine topic of gossip amongst 
 many ladies of the society she frequented, 
 and many in societies never graced by her 
 presence. It was not for nothing Lady 
 Delamore had been so rude to Lord 
 
 A , and the Duke of B , and 
 
 Colonel D ; she only waited for a 
 
 good opportunity to throw off the mask. 
 An English cicisbeo was not to her 
 ladyship's mind; he must be initiated 
 in all foreign graces, to be deemed 
 worthy the honour. 
 
 In such terms did those hangers-on 
 on all societies declaim, excited by ma- 
 lice, envy, ugliness, and age. The gloom 
 of a convent should be the only haunt 
 of such beings, that when youth and
 
 134 1HE WIFE 
 
 beauty are fled, and the reign of malevo- 
 lence and disappointment succeeds, such 
 passions should be hid from the world, 
 and not allowed to fall on the heads of 
 those whose crime is to have advantages 
 which they have lost, or, it is possible, 
 never possessed. 
 
 The brilliant month of June teems 
 with gaiety, and every night in every 
 house in the west end of London, (and 
 every other end, for aught I know,) un- 
 less inhabited by the sick and dying, 
 during that season, either receives with- 
 in the votaries of amusement, or sends 
 forth its inhabitants to partake in some 
 pleasurable scheme suited to their tastes, 
 rank, or fortune. 
 
 Cards, the dance, music, night after 
 night, occupy the hearts of thousands — 
 but in that in which 1 would particu- 
 larly desire to draw my reader's atten- 
 tion, a masked ball was the grand point
 
 AND FRIENDS. 135 
 
 of attraction to all moving in the first 
 circle of society. 
 
 A fashionable lady opened her house 
 for the entertainment of herself and 
 friends. Her furniture was hurried 
 into the garret, in which general move 
 her husband found himself included ; 
 her servants were wearied ; her money 
 expended for one night's amusement. 
 Her company (I cannot prostitute the 
 word by again calling them friends) 
 declared themselves satisfied ; the lady 
 was mortified they were not enchanted ; 
 though her mortification was not theirs, 
 but her own concern and that of her hus- 
 band when the fete was over. 
 
 Amongst the many who flocked to 
 the seat of pleasure, was a man habited 
 in a dark domino. Some few years had 
 passed since he was an actor in a similar 
 scene. On his first entrance, the lights, 
 the voices, the music bewildered, and
 
 136 THE WIFE 
 
 for a few minutes made him hesitate 
 whether to plunge into the scene of con- 
 fusion, which, to his unaccustomed eyes, 
 the room appeared to be, or instantly 
 quit the house. He stood alone hesitat- 
 ing how to act, and feeling that species 
 of dejection which arises from being so- 
 litary in a gay and numerous assembly. 
 His spirits, however, gradually revived ; 
 the scene became more familiar to his 
 eyes ; some well-known faces sprung up 
 in the passing crowd ; and, at length, a 
 female accosted him. One, who once, 
 but for his superior rectitude, would 
 have sacrificed to him all, recognised be- 
 neath the dusky domino, and still more 
 dusky mask, him whom she still could 
 hardly think of without emotion. With 
 a voice whose gentle accents had cost 
 many a wife her peace, many a hus- 
 band his honour, she greeted her former 
 friend. The voice was one of kindness ;
 
 AND FRIENDS. 137 
 
 it was well remembered, and they met 
 with very different feelings from what 
 formerly had possessed them, yet they 
 met as friends ; and though he had mar- 
 ried and retired from the world, where 
 she had continued with some Mat, and 
 little merit, yet the voice of kindness is 
 never to be despised, and covers a mul- 
 titude of sins. So felt the stranger do- 
 mino ; and not all the words which had 
 once been too tenderly and lavishly be- 
 stowed on him by the fair female who 
 now addressed him, were half so much 
 prized as this one little syllable of recog- 
 nition in a land of strangers. Time pro- 
 duces mental as well as bodily changes ; 
 and after half an hour's discourse, the lady 
 perceived that her friend had lost much 
 of the gallantry and tenderness of his 
 former manner ; and though perfectly 
 well bred, the refined language of a 
 very fine gentleman had given place to a
 
 138 THE WIFE 
 
 homeliness of expression, an openness of 
 manner, and simplicity of ideas, (as far 
 as the world was concerned,) which fell 
 harshly on the polished ears of the Vis- 
 countess Molyneux, who feared nothing 
 but the ridicule of the world, and dared 
 do every thing but what was unfashion- 
 able. The gentleman, in his turn, was 
 not behindhand with his observations ; 
 and whilst he traced the progress more of 
 a life of dissipation than of time in the 
 yet handsome face before him, its marks 
 were equally visible in the independent 
 air, and affectation of softness, glossing 
 over hollo w-heartedness ! — the result of a 
 life entirely for, as well as in, the world, 
 in one whom he had once, but he was pro- 
 bably deceived, imagined to be destined 
 for better things. Whatever might be 
 their secret thoughts, they were now mu- 
 tually useful : the lady had been disap-
 
 AND FRIENDS. 139 
 
 pointed in a cavalier e servente, on whom 
 she had pinned her faith ; the gentleman 
 was obviously an isolated being ; so, when 
 he perceived a something of gene creep 
 over their discourse for want of proper 
 amalgamation between the parties, he 
 had sufficient tact left to offer his arm 
 to conduct her through the rooms. Lady 
 Molyneux was happy to consent ; and, 
 thus joined, they sauntered through the 
 spacious and crowded apartments, almost 
 every one they met being open to some 
 amusing or malicious remark of her lady- 
 ship's; affording no small amusement 
 to her companion, as bringing to his 
 mind people and things once familiar, 
 and of whom he was now out of the 
 habit of hearing and thinking. 
 
 " Look at that lady in the dress of 
 Henrietta Maria ; she is the rage at this 
 moment, and obtains more admiration
 
 140 THE WIFE 
 
 than any other ten women in Lon- 
 don." 
 
 " Very deservedly so ; she is beauti- 
 ful. Who is she?" 
 
 " Not to know her argues yourself 
 unknown ; she is the divine Countess 
 Delamore, wife to the dull Earl of De- 
 lamore; and the young man on whose 
 arm she leans, habited, I verily believe, 
 after a Vandyke portrait of the Earl 
 of St. Alban's, is Lord Dorset, who, 
 notwithstanding some small imperfec- 
 tion of intellect, is the chosen cicisbeo of 
 the all-conquering Countess." 
 
 The dark domino bit his lips. " He 
 is a well-looking young man, and his 
 dress is perfect." 
 
 " It needs must be so, for he thinks 
 of nothing else." 
 
 " Excepting the divine Countess." 
 
 " The divine Countess indeed !" with 
 a toss of contempt : " I dare say he ne-
 
 AND FRIENDS. 141 
 
 ver thinks of her for five minutes toge- 
 ther, when out of her sight. He only 
 follows the fashion of admiring her; 
 and if to-morrow any other pretty no- 
 velty were to appear, Lady Delamore 
 would soon be deserted by all her train 
 of admirers, Lord Dorset being proba- 
 bly the first to fly." 
 
 " Lord Dorset admired Lady Dela- 
 more before she married." 
 
 " For a country gentleman, your ex- 
 cuse for his present elevation is charm- 
 ing." And Lady Molyneux smiled with 
 disdain. 
 
 " To excuse was not my intention," 
 said her companion ; " Lord Dorset is 
 very well able to defend his own cause 
 without my assistance. I only meant 
 to give him credit for a merit which 
 you seemed unwilling to allow he pos- 
 sessed, — that of constancy." 
 
 " Constancy !" exclaimed Lady Moly-
 
 142 THE WIFE 
 
 neux : " Are you an advocate for con- 
 stancy ?" and as she spoke, she looked 
 at him with the most earnest attention. 
 He saw not her looks, and hardly heard 
 her words ; his thoughts and eyes were 
 all directed to Lady Delamore and Lord 
 Dorset. Lady Molynenx, after a short 
 pause, in expectation of a reply, returned 
 to the original topic of discourse. 
 
 " Lady Delamore, on first coming to 
 London, set up for a lady of infinite 
 discretion, and refused to visit several 
 people, whom all the world receive. I 
 had the honour of being excluded from 
 her ladyship's list. Such airs generally 
 meet with their reward ; and when she 
 and Lord Dorset have carried on their 
 flirtations a little farther, she will be 
 at the feet of those whom now she 
 spurns." 
 
 The dark domino looked offended. 
 Something whispered to Lady Moly-
 
 AND FRIENDS. 143 
 
 neux that she had gone too far. She com- 
 posed, therefore, her voice and manner, 
 and proposed they should look for seats. 
 Her companion consented, and, taking 
 off his mask, followed her to an upper 
 bench, where were some vacant places. 
 
 The happy art which constant inter- 
 course with the world gives of conceal- 
 ing weariness, and continuing to amuse 
 when no longer amused, the stranger 
 had lost much of by disuse ; he became 
 thoughtful and absent, and the lady was 
 very near having recourse to reproaches 
 for his dulness, when the truant beau, 
 who had failed in his attendance the 
 early part of the evening, made his ap- 
 pearance. This beau, for such he was 
 in every sense of the word, habited as 
 Hamlet, mgnly louged, perfumed, and 
 corked, sauntered towards Lady Moly- 
 nenx, with an indifferent air, as if to 
 bid defiance to any invective she might
 
 144 THE WIFE 
 
 think proper to indulge him with, for 
 failure in his promise of attending her 
 to the masquerade. Her ladyship was 
 not to be silenced by looks, however ; 
 and, when near enough to profit by her 
 discourse, complained aloud of his deser- 
 tion. Pulling out his costly snuff-box, 
 and applying a large portion of the con- 
 tents to his nose, Hamlet inquired what 
 she meant by desertion ? 
 
 " Mean ? — why being here three hours 
 after me." 
 
 " My dear Lady Molyneux, it is 
 your own fault, for coming too soon. 
 Any hour before two is the most ante- 
 diluvian thing possible for a masque- 
 rade. At the proper time, you know, I 
 am always your slave; but do not, I 
 implore you, force upon me hours 
 which are only suited to the other side 
 of Temple Bar." 
 
 This speech seemed very sufficient
 
 AND FRIENDS. 145 
 
 apology to Lady Molyneux, who mak- 
 ing room for her friend on the other 
 side of herself, a half-whispering con- 
 versation ensued, which left her dusky 
 companion, both from prudence as well 
 as inclination, to the full enjoyment of 
 his own meditations. To the bench 
 below him, however, his attention was 
 very speedily drawn. Lady Delamore 
 and Lord Dorset had been dancing to- 
 gether, and took eager possession of 
 two places which happened to be vacant, 
 just before, and rather beneath, where 
 Lady Molyneux and her friends were 
 seated. 
 
 Lord Dorset, as if in continuation of 
 his discourse, said, " So, you will give me 
 no reason for your cruel treatment ?" 
 
 " Cruel treatment ! Pray, Lord Dor- 
 set, reserve so strong an epithet for a 
 more worthy cause." 
 
 " I swear that what I say, I feel : I 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 THE WIFE 
 
 am miserable at your behaviour, which, 
 however you may term it, I will call 
 cruel. For three days, I come to your 
 door ; instead of the reception I have 
 always met with, your impudent fel- 
 low denies me admittance, and, laughing 
 at my mortification, shuts the door in 
 my face, which he immediately re-opens 
 to admit Miss Fitz-Edward and Lady 
 Mary Walters." 
 
 " On a visit to Lord Delamore, I 
 suppose." 
 
 " My dear Lady Delamore, why will 
 you ridicule my misery ?" 
 
 " Well, I will confess the truth ; — I 
 was at home." 
 
 " And refused to see me." 
 
 " We meet so often elsevfhere, that I 
 was perfectly aware such a step was not 
 likely to conclude our acquaintance." 
 
 " Was it your own resolve ?" 
 
 " Certainly ! whose should it be ?"
 
 AND FRIENDS. 147 
 
 " Delamore's." 
 
 " Lord Delamore's ! Charming !— So 
 you really think he troubles his head 
 about my visitors ?" 
 
 " Some husbands do; some husbands 
 are— are ..." 
 
 " Jealous, you would say ; be it so ; 
 mine has not that quality." 
 
 " Then you are a very fortunate wo- 
 man ; for now you may follow your own 
 inclinations, undisturbed with the fear 
 of his anger." 
 
 " My inclinations," observed Lady 
 Delamore gravely, " are not of a nature 
 to make me fear his deserved anger, 
 however jealous my lord might be ; and 
 if that passion arose from excess of af- 
 fection, my' woman's heart would not 
 only pardon but approve. 1 ' 
 
 Then with more gaiety she continued : 
 " So you really imagined Lord Dela- 
 more gave orders to drive you from his 
 H 2
 
 148 THE WIFE 
 
 door ? I condole with you on the dis- 
 appointment you must feel at finding 
 he never thought about you. I alone 
 am the culprit ; and as you cannot ask 
 a lady to explain her conduct, the rea- 
 son must be left for your own talents to 
 discover." 
 
 Lord Dorset bit his lips, and mutter- 
 ed the words, " Prude, coquette." Lady 
 Delamore was silent for a few moments, 
 when, turning to Lord Dorset, she said, 
 smiling, " If you will let me tell you 
 the cause of your visits, I will tell you 
 the reason of my declining them ?" 
 
 Lord Dorset bowed a half-sulky 
 sent. 
 
 " Idleness." 
 
 " Heavens, Lady Delamore, say ra- 
 ther love . . . ." 
 
 " No, no, no, you have nothing to do, 
 and so visit me; I have something to
 
 AND FRIENDS. 149 
 
 do, and will not be disturbed by les 
 desceuvres" 
 
 " By les" said Lord Dorset, in a more 
 cheerful tone, " I am to infer that others 
 are included in the same law ?" 
 
 " To be sure ; but I see Lucy has 
 finished her dance, and, in spite of every 
 closed shutter, the sun's rays are begin- 
 ning to find entrance ; so take me to 
 her, and then have the kindness to ask 
 for the carriage, and let us get home 
 before the nursery-maids and children 
 are abroad."
 
 150 THE WIFE 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Of all those who were really inte- 
 rested in Caroline's welfare, Lucy Fitz- 
 Edward alone viewed with indifference 
 Lord Dorset's increasing intimacy and 
 unceasing attendance ; and whilst Lady 
 Mary Walters trembled at his name, and 
 turned pale at his appearance, her niece 
 discoursed of him with composure, and 
 received him with pleasure. Both, how- 
 ever, saw with regret the situation Caro- 
 line was placed in ; for, whatever Lord 
 Delamore's other merits might be, to her
 
 AND FRIENDS. 151 
 
 his conduct seemed indifferent, both as a 
 man and a husband, if not cruel. With 
 regard to Lord Dorset, their feelings 
 were widely different. Lady Mary saw 
 in him a fashionable, gay, young man, 
 very much in love, and very much to be 
 dreaded. Lucy, on the contrary, beheld 
 only a giddy, vain, thoughtless youth, 
 with the manners of a gentleman, good- 
 humour, and openness of language, to 
 recommend him ; which last quality, at 
 times, amounted to childish simplicity. 
 Bat though Miss Fitz-Edward saw no 
 immediate danger for her friend, yet she 
 was well aware that, from a very different 
 quarter, a feeling might arise, sufficiently 
 strong, to disturb her peace, and make 
 her regret her ill-assorted marriage, when 
 Lord Delamore's love would be hope- 
 less, and her power over every other of 
 his sex confirmed. Caroline's feelings 
 were strong, her disposition confiding.
 
 152 THE WIFE 
 
 her admiration for wit and talents bound- 
 less ; and Lucy thought it was well, that 
 one so totally deficient in such powers of 
 fascination as was Lord Dorset, should 
 occupy the post Lord Delamore de- 
 serted, and which might readily be filled 
 with more hazard, but not easily, as so- 
 ciety is constituted, be left vacant. With 
 such reasonings, Miss Fitz-Edward heard 
 with calmness her aunt's alarms, and 
 viewed with indifference Lord Dorset's 
 assiduity: something, however, is due to 
 the world ; and it was a hint from Lucy, 
 which made Lady Delamore put an end 
 to his lordship's daily morning visit. 
 
 On the morning after the masquerade, 
 Caroline, accompanied by her little boy 
 and his nurse, proceeded to Kensington 
 Gardens. Lord Dorset, observing the 
 direction of the carriage passing through 
 the Park, turned his horse's head the 
 same way, and joined her on her arrival.
 
 AND FRIENDS. 153 
 
 The gardens were very empty ; but it 
 only made their beauty and freshness 
 more enjoyable, particularly after the fa- 
 tigues of the night before. Followed 
 by the nurse and child, they reached the 
 end of the gardens where the walk turns, 
 and were entirely removed from the few 
 who lingered in the more public part of 
 the gardens. 
 
 In the midst of a very animated dis- 
 cussion of the masquerade the night be- 
 fore, Caroline raised her eyes, and rested 
 them on Lord Delamore leaning on the 
 arm of a stranger directly advancing to- 
 wards her. His presence, her apparent 
 gaiety, her companion, and the retired 
 part of the gardens, were all matter of 
 annoyance to Lady Delamore ; and with 
 an embarrassed air, and more colour 
 than usual on her cheeks, she beheld his 
 approach. His first words dissipated any 
 alarm she might be under. Suspecting 
 h5
 
 154 THE WIFE 
 
 not in others what he would not be guilty 
 of himself, he complimented them both 
 on their taste, in preferring the secluded 
 part of the gardens, admired their beau- 
 ty, and, finding they were returning, 
 proposed their joining parties. Caroline 
 placed, unsolicited, her arm within her 
 lord's. Lord Dorset, with much more 
 willingness, offered his also for her sup- 
 port ; the stranger still keeping his place 
 by Lord Delamore's side. In this manner 
 they walked up the gardens, Caroline 
 contemplating, with a smile, the idea of 
 Lord Delamore being jealous. The con- 
 versation was entirely between Lords 
 Delamore and Dorset ; the two others 
 were entirely silent. When they reached 
 the door of the gardens, the stranger 
 called to his groom, who was in waiting, 
 to bring him his horse. 
 
 " Will you not walk with us to the 
 carriage ?" inquired Lord Delamore,
 
 AND FRIENDS. 155 
 
 " I have not time ; at this moment, I 
 ought to be back in London." 
 
 " Very well," said Delamore, beckon- 
 ing his own groom, " I will ride with 
 you. Dorset will take care of Lady 
 Delamore." 
 
 " Upon no account whatsoever," said 
 the stranger ; " you are much better dis- 
 posed of as you are : before we part, 
 however, you perhaps will allow me, as 
 a future neighbour, the honour of an 
 introduction to Lady Delamore." 
 
 " I concluded that ceremony had al- 
 ready taken place, in some of those gay 
 haunts which I believe you to have both 
 lately frequented.— Caroline, let me pre- 
 sent Mr. Graham to you." 
 
 By way of saying something after the 
 introduction had taken place, Caroline 
 observ ed her surprise that he should quit 
 London at a period of so much gaiety. 
 
 Mr. Graham smiled, and protested
 
 156 THE WIFE 
 
 against the dissipated life his friend had 
 given him credit for ; his visits to Lon- 
 don were short and at long intervals, 
 business being their general object. — 
 " That," he added, " which now brought 
 me being concluded, I have no excuse 
 for remaining longer." 
 
 "Business will sometimes give place 
 to the pleasures of a masquerade," said 
 Lord Dorset, regarding Mr. Graham 
 intently. 
 
 " Business is very often carried on, I 
 believe, under a mask," replied Gra- 
 ham, slightly colouring. " That which 
 brought me to London was concluded 
 
 before I went to Lady A 's last 
 
 night, where, I conclude, from your 
 lordship's remark, I had the honour 
 of being observed by you." 
 
 " You were much more likely to 
 know my movements than I yours ; 
 for, if I remember right, you wore a
 
 AND FRIENDS. 157 
 
 very dark domino, whilst my dress was 
 singularly conspicuous." 
 
 Mr. Graham smiled. 
 
 " If you were at the masquerade," ob- 
 served Lord Delamore, " your impati- 
 ence to quit London is not surprising; 
 such a scene is sufficient to disgust one 
 with the metropolis, and with all those 
 who take pleasure in its pursuits, and to 
 make one fly with renewed delight to 
 all the rational charms of a country life." 
 
 Caroline heard Lord Delamore with 
 the most extreme surprise ; he had 
 known of her intention of going to the 
 masquerade, had seen her dressed, with- 
 out expressing any opinion on the sub- 
 ject, yet now she found he had a very 
 decided one, not only adverse to such 
 amusements, but to all who attended 
 them. 
 
 " I beg, Delamore, you will not de- 
 tract from the merit of my departure,"
 
 158 THE WIFE 
 
 said Mr. Graham laughingly : " so far 
 from being in any state of disgust with 
 the town, I look upon it as a proof of 
 great virtue, the retaining my original 
 determination of leaving London to-day, 
 after having assisted at so gay a scene 
 as that of last night." 
 
 " The result of which scene was a 
 very agreeable invitation for this even- 
 ing, I conclude," said Lord Dorset, who 
 happened to know that Mr. Graham was 
 expected at a supper at Lady Molyneux's. 
 
 " Yes," he replied, " I had an invita- 
 tion, which I regret I must decline ; it 
 was to dine with Delamore: — But time 
 flies," he added, as he sprung lightly 
 into his saddle ;— " by this time I ought 
 to be on my way to Barnet.— Delamore, 
 you had much better not come with me, 
 for I am so low at leaving London, that 
 I shall be insufferably bad company." 
 
 " The very reason that, as a friend,
 
 AND FRIENDS. 159 
 
 should induce me not to quit you," said 
 Lord Delamore. 
 
 " But you are a husband also;" and 
 Mr. Graham cast a look towards the 
 thoughtful Caroline, still holding the 
 arm of Lord Dorset, whose countenance 
 wore something of the air of triumph as 
 he led her towards her carriage, which 
 waited at a distance. The words were 
 uttered in a low voice ; they reached not 
 Lord Delamore, who was speaking to 
 his groom ; but they were not lost — Ca- 
 roline heard them : and as she returned 
 his parting bow, she could not conceal 
 a thankful smile for the kindness they 
 implied. 
 
 " I am heartily glad I know who that 
 Graham is," said Lord Dorset to Caro- 
 line, as he sat by her at dinner. 
 
 " Why so ?" 
 
 " Because when we were sitting down 
 after the last dance at Lady A 's
 
 160 THE WIFE 
 
 last night, I saw him very attentive to 
 our conversation, and I dare say he heard 
 all we said ; — he was just behind you next 
 to Lady Molyneux, with whom he had 
 been walking all the evening." 
 
 " Are you sure it was Mr. Graham ?" 
 inquired Caroline anxiously. 
 
 " Certain. I called on Lady Molyneux 
 this morning ; she told me the masque- 
 rade had had a peculiar charm for her, 
 as there she had met one who, spite of 
 absence, was unchanged in friendship. I 
 of course, as she intended, teazed her for 
 the name of this delectable companion, 
 about which for some time she affected 
 to be mysterious. At length she con- 
 fessed him to have been Graham ; but 
 until Delamore introduced him to you 
 this morning, I had not imagined that 
 the dark domino I had observed sitting 
 behind you could be him. From his quiet 
 appearance, I was induced to imagine
 
 AND FRIENDS. 161 
 
 that he was the master of the house; 
 however, Graham it proved to be. Lady 
 Molyneux farther informed me that her 
 former friend was become somewhat sau- 
 vage from living too much in the coun- 
 try, but that she intended to revivify 
 him ; that she should restore les graces 
 which were at present obscured, and, as 
 a first step towards improvement, he had 
 promised to sup with her and a chosen 
 few, after the Opera to-night. A conti- 
 nuation of such practices, she was sure, 
 would have the happiest effect upon his 
 manners, and render still more jealous a 
 very odious wife he possesses. All this 
 delicious scheme, however, Graham has 
 destroyed by taking himself off, for he 
 is really gone ; which is more than I gave 
 him credit for intending, spite of his sage 
 speeches this morning. Lady Molyneux 
 will be horridly disappointed." 
 
 " And very easily consoled. And
 
 162 THE WIFE 
 
 you think that Mr. Graham heard our 
 conversation ?" 
 
 "As certain as I am of my existence," 
 said Lord Dorset, as he carried a glass 
 of champagne to his lips. 
 
 Caroline sighed. Mr. Graham was 
 the only person Lord Delamore ever 
 spoke of in the warm terms of friend- 
 ship and admiration. She could have 
 wished for a more favourable impression 
 to have been received by him of her 
 character, than she feared would result 
 from the circumstances under which he 
 had twice met her; namely, the con- 
 versation at the masquerade, and the 
 almost tete-a-tete walk with Lord Dor- 
 set that morning. Neither of these were 
 situations to impress a serious man, such 
 as the bosom friend of her lord, with 
 an idea of discretion, or even of decorum. 
 
 Mr. Graham had been introduced to
 
 AND FRIENDS. l6S 
 
 Lady Delamore as her future neighbour: 
 such he was on the point of becoming. 
 Lord Delamore was one of those per- 
 sons who convert whatever is meant for 
 their good into a source of misery and 
 trouble. Such dispositions are advan- 
 tageous to mankind in one respect, — the 
 teaching resignation in their more un- 
 toward fortunes to those oppressed by 
 poverty, or any of the various ills flesh 
 is heir to. No sooner was Lord Dela- 
 more in actual possession of Delamore 
 Castle, than he quarrelled with its site, 
 extent, splendour, with all that made it 
 the envy and admiration of every other 
 man. At last, he discovered that the great 
 fault lay in the county in which it was si- 
 tuated, and in a certain state, which, from 
 time immemorial, had been kept up in 
 that county at Delamore Castle, render- 
 ing the owner a very great personage,
 
 164 THE WIFE 
 
 But what with public days and public 
 meetings, whether for business or plea- 
 sure, this mode of life was not quite so 
 independent a one as Lord Delamore's 
 military habits or natural taste desired. 
 He sighed and groaned beneath his 
 grandeur : a lingering desire to be po- 
 pular supported him for a short time ; 
 but the reflection came at last, that a 
 good name might be purchased too 
 dearly; and with this reflection came a 
 decision as surprising to Caroline as to 
 every one else — the quitting Delamore 
 Castle, and thus getting rid at once 
 of its odious, visiting neighbourhood, 
 which, with all its humility, required 
 perpetual attention and ceremony. 
 
 Caroline heard her lord's intentions 
 with little regret. She was well aware 
 that his manners did not please; and she 
 anticipated the offending all those with
 
 AND FRIENDS. 165 
 
 whom the last lord had lived in amity 
 and ease. Mortification must therefore 
 have ensued to herself abroad, and pro- 
 bably an increase of taciturnity and 
 gloom at home. 
 
 As Lord Delamore frequently spoke 
 of the sun of Italy and the mountains 
 of Switzerland with a sigh, as if to re- 
 gret the fate which had placed him in 
 England, 
 
 " Beneath her dripping sky, and fields without a 
 flower;" 
 
 that they should go abroad was Lady 
 Delam ore's decided opinion. Her sur- 
 prise was therefore great, when she dis- 
 covered he was about purchasing a re- 
 sidence in — — shire, a place excellent 
 for hunting, and within a short distance 
 of Mr. Graham ; but without any other 
 recommendation. As the purchase only 
 required her sanction, she gave it with-
 
 166 THE WIFE 
 
 out making any comment ; the prospect 
 which it held out, however, was not 
 very pleasing to her. 
 
 Caroline loved the world, perhaps 
 better than any one would be justified 
 in doing, who possessed a home more 
 agreeable than was hers. Not that it 
 was miserable ; but, when weighed with 
 the gay world in which she moved, its 
 enjoyments, even to one of more mo- 
 derate desires, might have been as no- 
 thing in the scale. It was dull from 
 other causes besides its master's melan- 
 choly temper. Lord Deiamore hated 
 all society at home but dinner-parties ; 
 his love of politics made him frequent 
 clubs abroad; but at home, dinners were 
 all the society he ever entertained, and 
 decidedly as a duty, not a pleasure. As 
 the penalty his rank and fortune en- 
 tailed, they were consequently very 
 splendid, very large, and, spite of all his
 
 AND FRIENDS. 16? 
 
 wife's efforts to render them otherwise, 
 very dull; the company being usually 
 ill-assorted, and the host grave, and, 
 long before the conclusion of the feast, 
 evidently wearied by his guests. Any 
 thing in the shape of evening society 
 was sure to drive him, at an earlier hour 
 than usual, to his library, and to produce 
 an additional shade upon his counte- 
 nance for several days. To please there- 
 fore her lord, Caroline gave up all such 
 practices ; but to please herself, she 
 entered only with more eagerness into 
 parties abroad; and, excepting when 
 forced by positive exhaustion, never 
 passed willingly an evening at home. 
 Such being the case, it is not surprising 
 that she somewhat dreaded a tete-a-tete of 
 several months with her husband, in a 
 strange county, away from her friends, 
 in an indifferent house. The latter de- 
 fect Lord Delamore made very light of,
 
 168 THE WIFE 
 
 as it opened so fine a field for improve- 
 ment, when they had formed a judg- 
 ment by residing there. 
 
 The person who seemed most dis- 
 tressed at these arrangements was Lord 
 Dorset. He had fully intended to enact 
 the lover again at Delamore Castle, his 
 father's seat affording him so fine an op- 
 portunity ; and he had promised himself 
 the greatest eclat in this second per- 
 formance, inasmuch as he intended to 
 be much better received, and also inas- 
 much as the Countess of Delamore was 
 superior to Miss Montagu. His vehe- 
 ment expressions of disappointment 
 rather reconciled Caroline to her fate. 
 
 London, as it is called, at length drew 
 to a close ; one by one its votaries va- 
 nished; some dragged by the tyranny 
 of a husband, some by the will of a fa- 
 ther blind to tears and deaf to sighs; 
 some few from pleasure in rural scenes ;
 
 AND FRIENDS. 169 
 
 many for love of change, and many 
 wearied with dissipation. The thinned 
 streets proclaimed every day a fresh de- 
 parture ; but of the few who still lin- 
 gered, Lady Delamore's brilliant equi- 
 page made a conspicuous figure — its 
 echo yet cheered the hearts of the idlers 
 in St. James's Street ; and her house 
 was yet open to the few of any fashion 
 remaining in London— and this was 
 Lord Delamore's doing. He, an enemy 
 to all inquiry, hating the gaze of the 
 vulgar as much as their remarks, in 
 abandoning Delamore Castle, determined 
 not to put himself in the way of hav- 
 ing his conduct discussed, which in that 
 neighbourhood alone could be the case : 
 until, therefore, his new purchase, High- 
 wood, was ready for his reception, he 
 resigned himself to a summer in London, 
 as a lesser evil than the wonderments of 
 his friends in shire. 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 THE WIFE 
 
 Almost the last day in September was 
 the one on which the Delamores de- 
 parted, his lordship to High wood, and 
 his lady, at her own request, to spend 
 a few days at Delamore Castle, where 
 she had a thousand farewell visits to 
 make, — not so much to the great and 
 rich, as to the poor and lowly ; to whom, 
 early initiated in habits of charity by 
 her mother-in-law, she was the most 
 generous of friends — and for the sake 
 of whom, she would have been almost 
 tempted to remonstrate with Lord De- 
 lamore, when he hinted the probability 
 of their never living again at Delamore 
 Castle. 
 
 Caroline had a commission from her 
 lord to perform: it sounded not very 
 important, but the results were differ- 
 ent from any her expectation could have 
 imagined, from her having to examine 
 a cabinet, wherein were deposited vari-
 
 AND FRIENDS. 171 
 
 ous papers, amongst which one was sup- 
 posed to be that which related to the 
 affairs of the Rev. Mr. Villiers, an uncle 
 by marriage with his mother's sister, of 
 Lord Delamore's. To look for this 
 paper, she commenced her search, and 
 was quite satisfied she had succeeded, on 
 laying her hands on a packet of letters, 
 tied with a black ribbon, and inscribed, 
 " Letters returned to me after the death 
 of my dear sister Villiers." 
 
 A very slight perusal convinced Ca- 
 roline, that the paper she was in search 
 of was not likely to be in the packet ; 
 but that glance was sufficient to drive 
 every thought from her head but one,— 
 the making herself mistress of the con- 
 tents of the letters before her ; they were 
 as follows. 
 
 I 2
 
 172 THE WIFE 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 TO MRS. V1LLIERS. 
 
 " My dearest sister will excuse, I am 
 sure, my late silence, and, when she 
 knows the cause, will be more inclined 
 to pity than blame me for not writing 
 the last week, which, thanks to the 
 even tenour of our lives, is a lapse un- 
 precedented in our correspondence here- 
 tofore, and will, I trust, not happen soon 
 again. The cause I would inform you 
 of is not one of deep distress, but it is 
 one that has agitated, and still agitates 
 me considerably. — You will comprehend
 
 AND FRIENDS. 173 
 
 my feelings ; Elliot is going to be mar- 
 ried ! — he, who is so young, — hardly ar- 
 rived at man's estate, — is in love, and 
 demands our consent to his union with 
 the daughter of a Mr. Greville, a gen- 
 tleman of family and fortune he has met 
 with abroad. Miss Greville has been 
 educated in a convent in France; she 
 may be every thing that is amiable, and, 
 without knowing the contrary, it would 
 be uncharitable to suppose otherwise ; 
 but when I consider that on one a total 
 stranger to the ideas, manners, and pre- 
 judices, as she would term them, of her 
 native country — who, though every 
 thing that is fascinating, may be every 
 thing that is artificial — that on such a 
 one depends the future happiness, per- 
 haps respectability, of my dearest son, I 
 own I am filled with alarm. He is 
 young, has seen little of the world, and 
 she is a mere child ; — but to that per-
 
 174 THE WIFE 
 
 haps I should not object, when I con- 
 sider that from that cause she has as 
 yet seen little of society ; and though 
 she may have much to learn, the more 
 difficult task, to unlearn, will be spared ; 
 the extreme licence of foreign manners 
 she may happily be ignorant of. I en- 
 close copies of Mr. Greville's letter to 
 Lord Delamore, and of two, which, 
 though of different dates, I received at 
 the same time from Elliot himself. 
 Mr. G.'s does not displease me, — it is 
 that of a gentleman, and shows suffi- 
 cient pride in himself and in his daugh- 
 ter as not to be violently desirous to 
 dispose of her in marriage. 
 
 " Lord Delamore and/myself, having 
 no reasonable grounds of objection, have 
 consented, on condition that the mar- 
 riage is celebrated in England, and not 
 before the expiration of a year. This 
 resolve cost us much reflection : it is
 
 AND FRIENDS. 175 
 
 taken — God grant it prove for the 
 best. 
 
 Your affectionate Sister, 
 
 M. Delamore." 
 
 TO THE EARL OF DELAMORE. 
 
 Naples, 17— . 
 
 " MY LORD, 
 
 " With some hesitation I address 
 myself to your lordship, on a subject 
 which, though equally interesting to us 
 both, requires on my side to be treated 
 with peculiar delicacy. 
 
 " Lord Elliot will by this post have 
 asked your lordship's sanction to a union 
 with my daughter,— a sanction which, 
 with the sanguine temperament of 
 youth, he made so sure of, (if he thought 
 of it at all,) as to propose to Theresa, 
 without considering the possibility of 
 your objecting to his marriage, either
 
 176 THE WIFE 
 
 from having other views for him, his 
 youth, the want of a certain rank you 
 might expect in your daughter-in-law, 
 or from a thousand other reasons, which 
 prevent half the imprudent marriages 
 which would otherwise take place every 
 day. Of these possible objections I am 
 perfectly aware, and do not write with 
 a view of combating them, but to beg, 
 if such is the case, that you will have the 
 kindness to declare your opinion fully 
 and explicitly, not leaving the young 
 people any hope that, with time, they 
 might conquer your resolve, and thus 
 keep alive a flame, which if to be de- 
 stroyed, is best done at once, and which, 
 in a female mind, is of too great moment 
 to be allowed to exist solely on hope, 
 which usually ends in disappointment. I 
 make no doubt that Elliot has done full 
 justice to the merits of my daughter; 
 but on one point, which, as a father, I
 
 AND FRIENDS. 177 
 
 hold of some importance, he may have 
 been very likely silent, perhaps igno- 
 rant. Theresa is not destitute of fortune : 
 on coming of age, or at her marriage, 
 she will succeed to twenty thousand 
 pounds, left to her by her maternal 
 grandfather ; and at my death she will 
 probably possess all I have. Should 
 your lordship accede to the wishes of 
 your son, I shall esteem my daughter 
 most fortunate in gaining the affections 
 of so excellent a young man as Lord 
 Elliot. 
 
 I have the honour to be 
 My Lord, 
 &c. &c. &c. 
 Francis Greville." 
 
 to the countess of delamore. 
 
 " I cannot let this post depart with- 
 out writing to you, though my letter 
 I 5
 
 178 THE WIFE 
 
 may contain only a repetition of what I 
 have already written to my father ; but 
 so great is my desire to obtain your con- 
 sent to an union with the sweetest girl 
 in the world, that were the suffrage of 
 every individual in England required to 
 accomplish such an end, I would canvass 
 their votes on my bended knees, or in 
 volumes of writing, rather than neglect 
 any means to obtain what must render 
 me the happiest or the most miserable 
 of men. As it is, however, this coveted 
 approbation, I trust, will not be with- 
 held by the most indulgent of parents, 
 to one who has never consciously of- 
 fended them ; and the future study of 
 whose life will be to testify his grati- 
 tude to the utmost extent of his ability. 
 If once you were to see Theresa, my 
 fears would be groundless : her appear- 
 ance must win all hearts in her favour ; 
 and if you knew her, I myself proba-
 
 AND FRIENDS. 179 
 
 bly should not be more impatient to 
 make her my wife, than you would be 
 to see her such ; but you do not know 
 her, — have never seen her ; and on my 
 feeble pen rests the knowledge of all 
 her merits. Were I a poet, I would 
 celebrate her praises in verse ; were I 
 a painter, I would attempt to pourtray 
 the beauties of her person ; but in sim- 
 ple prose I find the impossibility. I 
 trust only to your indulgence: think 
 with pity on one who loves to distrac- 
 tion a being worthy of becoming your 
 daughter ; who is gentle, lovely, good, 
 with sense and talents, and sighs for 
 what she has never known — a mother's 
 love ; a happiness I have dared pro- 
 nounce you will bestow upon her. 
 Yours, my dear Mother, 
 &c. &c. 
 
 Elliot."
 
 180 THE WIFE 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS OF DELAMORE. 
 
 " Naples, 17—. 
 
 " My last letter ran on in such praise 
 of Theresa, that I omitted all the parti- 
 culars concerning our first acquaintance ; 
 and as I hope they may prove interest- 
 ing, I proceed to relate them. 
 
 " The first time I saw Miss Greville 
 was at the English Minister's, where, on 
 a Sunday, the service of our church is 
 performed. Amongst many other fe- 
 males, none ill-looking, her appearance 
 was as far superior as a painting of 
 Guido's would be in a gallery of modern 
 artists. The first sight of her lovely com- 
 plexion, down-cast eyes, fair hair, and ele- 
 gant form, filled me with an admiration 
 which female beauty had never before 
 inspired, and most effectually destroyed 
 my devotions for that day. When the 
 service was concluded, she took the arm
 
 AND FRIENDS. 181 
 
 of an elderly lady, and left the room. I 
 followed, and to my great surprise be- 
 held her ascend the carriage, which was 
 in waiting for her, of my most intimate 
 friend Greville. I was thunderstruck ; 
 and will confess a most painful idea 
 entered my mind, injurious to my friend, 
 and cruel to Theresa, I believed her to 
 be what I dare not write, and what I can 
 only be pardoned for imagining, by my 
 knowledge of GrevihVs character : with 
 a thousand good qualities, his residence 
 abroad had rendered him, on one point, 
 not quite so moral a character as our 
 laws of propriety require. A certain 
 
 Madame de L had lately quitted 
 
 his protection, and I verily believed the 
 innocent Theresa had taken her place. 
 The idea rendered me miserable. I 
 hated, and was jealous of Greville ; and 
 inwardly abusing him as the most un- 
 heard-of libertine, and compassionating
 
 182 THE WIFE 
 
 Theresa as his victim, I wandered, under 
 a burning sun, till my steps were ar- 
 rested by the sea-shore. I threw myself 
 on the beach. A boat was moored not far 
 from me ; and by the discourse of the 
 boatmen I gathered, that some one had 
 appointed them to the spot; who that 
 some one was, I was quickly informed ; 
 a smart slap on the shoulder, followed 
 by Greville's well-known laugh, made 
 me start from my repose ; it was he in- 
 deed, and on his arm Theresa! I sup- 
 pose my countenance showed no very 
 kindly feelings, by Greville's exclaiming, 
 6 I swear you were asleep ; no one ever 
 looked so cross, unless aroused from 
 slumber ; well, I am sorry to have dis- 
 turbed your dreams.' — ' I should rather 
 apologise for intruding upon your not 
 sleeping, but waking dreams;' and I 
 looked with scorn towards Theresa from
 
 AND FRIENDS. 183 
 
 him. He followed the direction of my 
 eye. ■ You have so many female friends,' 
 he said carelessly, ' that the addition of 
 one can be very little coveted, otherwise 
 I should have liked to have made you 
 known to this lady.'— ' I never refuse 
 the acquaintance of a lady ; nevertheless, 
 Greville, you are unwise to introduce 
 me.' He seemed to penetrate my mean- 
 ing ; for with emphasis, and more gra- 
 vity than usual, he presented me to his 
 daughter, Miss Greville. ' Daughter !' I 
 exclaimed, with the utmost astonish- 
 ment. * To be sure ; did you take her 
 for my grandmother? — But come; in- 
 stead of sleeping on the shore, come and 
 sail on the sea. Fortune has thrown 
 you in our way, and my little girl and I 
 will not let you escape. Allans done! ' 
 " So saying, Greville put his arm in 
 mine, and led me, nothing loath, to the
 
 184 THE WIFE 
 
 boat, in which we embarked. The day was 
 superb ; the scenery such as no painter or 
 poet has ever yet done justice to. I was 
 seated between a lovely girl, with whom 
 I was already in love, and one of the 
 most agreeable men I know. Could any 
 situation be more enjoyable ? My spirits 
 rose, as the weight of my cruel surmises 
 was removed. Greville was unusually 
 pleasant ; gay without levity, which he 
 frequently indulges in, and which I gave 
 him credit for restraining in the pre- 
 sence of his daughter ; who, at length, 
 ventured to raise her eyes from the 
 ground, and, inspired by her companion, 
 to converse. Her artless observations, 
 for which 1 could have worshipped her, 
 rather amused her father. We landed 
 beneath some spreading trees ; and some 
 cold provisions they had brought with 
 them, were spread on the ground before 
 us. Music became the subject of dis-
 
 AND FRIENDS. 185 
 
 course; and, at her father's desire, The- 
 resa sung. The air she chose was one so 
 plaintive, so tender, it might have pene- 
 trated a heart of stone. ' Such solemn 
 music is not what I prefer,' observed 
 Greville, when she had concluded. The- 
 resa coloured ; she was very sorry, but 
 her taste had been formed by the style 
 of music she had heard in the convent 
 where she had lived. ' The world,' said 
 Greville, laughing and turning to me, 
 * will soon cure such a taste.' I secretly 
 hoped not. Greville having moved away 
 to speak to the boatmen, I inquired of 
 Theresa, if she was glad to leave her 
 convent? I had touched on a tender 
 string ; tears filled her eyes. ' Are your 
 tears, tears of regret?' I continued. 
 ' They are the tears of a foolish girl, 
 who cannot yet reconcile herself to being 
 separated from all her early friends — 
 from all she loves !' — * I wish you would
 
 186 THE WIFE 
 
 consider me as a friend.' ' You are very 
 kind ; but I do not know you.' — * In 
 time we shall know each other better.' — 
 ' In time, I hope, I shall not want a 
 friend ; I shall know my father !' — ' And 
 do you not know him ?' — ' Alas ! not so 
 well as those I am parted from. Till 
 six weeks back, I had not seen my father 
 for many years !' We re -embarked ; a 
 soft breeze soon wafted us to the point 
 from whence we started. We returned 
 to our separate homes ; but in parting 
 from Theresa, her image accompanied 
 me, never to be forgotten. 
 
 " A week elapsed, during which I was 
 at Greville's every day, but never saw 
 Theresa. Whilst I fretted at my bad 
 fortune, Graham met her several times, 
 and became so intimate that I was half 
 inclined to be jealous. I fell sick : du- 
 ring my confinement a ball took place 
 at the English Minister's. Theresa
 
 AND FRIENDS. 187 
 
 was there, and excited universal admira- 
 tion. Graham danced with her, and my 
 only consolation for not having done so 
 myself, was that I was the subject of 
 then* discourse, and that she lamented 
 my illness. On my recovery, I found 
 out, what I was not very backward in 
 making my profit of, that Theresa rode 
 out very early in the morning, attended 
 only by a groom. I met her at first as 
 if by accident ; at length it became a regu- 
 lar custom, and it may easily be supposed, 
 that our acquaintance rapidly improv- 
 ed. Greville, however, heard at length 
 of my attendance, and very shortly in- 
 formed me that he did not approve of my 
 conduct ; that the censorious were too 
 happy to lay hold of any thing to make 
 the topic of their censure ; and it might 
 be supposed that it was with his sanction 
 I attended his daughter in her rides. I 
 know not exactly what followed, or how
 
 188 THE WIFE 
 
 I declared my feelings ; but I ended, 
 though you will laugh, as did Greville, 
 at my precipitation, in professing the 
 most violent love for Theresa, and im- 
 ploring him not to discourage my pas- 
 sion, but to allow me to attempt gaining 
 her hand and heart. 
 
 " Greville said the existence of such 
 feeling was very unlikely on so short an 
 acquaintance; but, if I persisted in such 
 a fancy, he should be obliged to restore 
 her to her convent. I was extremely 
 hurt at his incredulity ; and after farther 
 discourse, the convent scheme was aban- 
 doned, and he promised I should occa- 
 sionally see Theresa. In his way, how- 
 ever, he added, that it was only to humour 
 his own idleness, for he was sure the 
 best thing for us both was never to meet 
 again. I now ventured to ask why he 
 seemed more inclined to encourage her 
 acquaintance with Graham than with
 
 AND FRIENDS. 189 
 
 myself? ' I have lived long enough in 
 the world/ he replied, ' easily to pene- 
 trate the feelings of youths such as 
 yourself and Graham : from the first 
 hour you met, I saw you admired her, 
 whilst the insensible Graham, at each in- 
 terview, seems to grow more indifferent.' 
 — ' Your wish is, then, that she should 
 not marry ?' — ' Oh, Heaven forbid ! — not 
 at all, I assure you,' he answered laugh- 
 ingly; 'but yours and Graham's situations 
 are very different, and I should be highly 
 pleased if he were to fall madly in love 
 with Theresa. Marry her I must, and 
 if not now, I shall soon find a par- 
 tie convenable at Paris.' — ' Gracious Hea- 
 vens !' I exclaimed, ' and marry her 
 without consulting her inclinations?' — 
 ' The inclinations of young ladies are 
 rarely consulted on the Continent, when 
 the question is marriage ; and I have 
 no great reason to be an advocate for
 
 190 ^ THE WIFE 
 
 the manner in which such events are 
 brought to pass in England.'—' You 
 still have not explained to me what I 
 think I have a right to know; why 
 Graham, who loves not, is to be prefer 
 red to one who, however you may ridi- 
 cule his passion, has boldly avowed it.' 
 — ' As to preference,' said Greville, < as 
 men, I think any woman might be hap- 
 py in your love, any man proud of such 
 sons : but your situations are different ; 
 I do not mean as to rank, for I retain 
 enough of the Englishman within me 
 as to think family quite equal to title, in 
 many cases superior; but Graham is 
 more independent of his father than you 
 are. I know his father well,— a selfish, 
 worldly man of pleasure, indifferent to 
 his son and all, save his own indulgences. 
 His own conduct will so little bear scru- 
 tiny, that he dare not interfere with that 
 of his son, and he would easily con-
 
 AND FRIENDS. , 191 
 
 sent to his marriage, for the same rea- 
 son that he now allows him double the 
 allowance of any young man of his 
 age ; not from love, but that they may 
 have as little to do with each other 
 as possible, and be perfectly independent 
 in their path of life, whether bad or 
 good. On the other hand, Lord Dela- 
 more being the exact contrast of Mr. 
 Graham, his sanction, inasmuch as it 
 would be more flattering, would be in 
 proportion difficult to obtain, supposing 
 you were to carry your love of Theresa 
 so far as ever to ask it.' 
 
 " Greville ceased ; and I ventured to 
 explain the indulgent character of my 
 father. He interrupted me : ' You may 
 think all this, but the proof is wanting 
 — nous verrons, or rather I ought to say, 
 nous verrons pas. I do not desire to 
 anticipate evils in marrying Theresa. I 
 would willingly launch her with gentle
 
 192 THE WIFE 
 
 gales on smooth seas, so that when storms 
 do arise, and they assuredly will, she may 
 not consider me as the primary cause of 
 all her suffering.' 
 
 " Not to be tedious, however, I soon 
 found opportunities of rendering myself 
 agreeable to Theresa, so that in a few 
 weeks I had the felicity of hearing from 
 her own lips that she was not insensible 
 to my love. Greville, finding his daugh- 
 ter's happiness equally engaged with 
 mine, lent a more willing ear to the 
 subject of our attachment; and, after 
 some debate, the letters which I hope 
 have been favourably received were dis- 
 patched, soliciting your and my fa- 
 ther's consent to my marriage with his 
 daughter. 
 
 " Thus, my dearest mother, I have 
 given you an exact account of my love. 
 I hope you will not think me quite dis- 
 tracted by my passion, though, if you
 
 AND FRIENDS. 193 
 
 knew Theresa, you would acknowledge 
 I have cause. 
 
 " This letter I send by Graham. To 
 our great sorrow, his father has sum- 
 moned him immediately to England. 
 We shall remain here till the answers to 
 the letters on which my fate depends 
 arrive. My impatience no words can 
 describe. 
 
 I am, my dear Mother, 
 Yours, &c. 
 
 Elliot." 
 
 to mrs. v1lliers. 
 
 " My heart almost misgave me with 
 regard to Elliot's marriage. The en- 
 closed letter will show you that my fears 
 are verified. Not being able to gain any 
 satisfactory intelligence with regard to 
 Mr. Greville's family in England, where 
 his name seemed to have been never 
 heard, I wrote to my old friend Mrs. 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 THE WIFE 
 
 Handbury, at Paris, where, from her 
 long residence and love of society, I 
 was assured if any one knew him, it must 
 be she. Her answer has reached me ; and 
 from that, with whatever pain it may 
 cost us to deny our consent to Elliot's 
 wishes, Lord Elliot and myself have 
 determined to put an end to his destined 
 marriage. It would have been better 
 had we done so at first ; but wishing to 
 yield, where no glaring objection appear- 
 ed, we consented against our better 
 judgment. Happily, the marriage was 
 not to take place for a year, and happily 
 the passions of youth are fierce but 
 fading flames, and I hope, after the 
 first disappointment, they will reconcile 
 themselves to their lot, without giving 
 way to despair, which, though our de- 
 termination is unalterable, would render 
 us more miserable than themselves, in 
 having, from ignorance of the Greville
 
 AND FRIENDS. 195 
 
 family, held out hopes, which I would 
 rather die, now that their private history 
 is made known, than see fulfilled. Miss 
 Greville may have virtue and principle ; 
 but, descended from such parents, the 
 probability is, that very much the con- 
 trary is the fact. 
 
 Yours, &c. 
 
 M. Delamore." 
 
 (Letter enclosed.) 
 
 " As a motive of idle curiosity, I am 
 sure, could not actuate Lady Delamore's 
 inquiry, I shall be happy to give her 
 every information in my power concern- 
 ing Mr. Greville. 
 
 * The events of his private life were 
 once made so public, that though they 
 may have escaped your memory, you 
 must, I think, have been informed con- 
 cerning them. His original name was 
 K 2
 
 196 THE WIFE 
 
 Evelyn. He married a daughter of 
 Lord Fornham's, a marriage which 
 proved unfortunate. She was divorced, 
 and afterwards married Colonel Douglas. 
 On the trial, however discreditable to 
 Lady Mary, circumstances arose which 
 did not leave her husband blameless, 
 and opened such scenes of extravagance, 
 folly, I believe I might add profligacy, 
 in the lives they both had led, that Mr. 
 G. was very glad to leave England till 
 the affair had somewhat blown over, 
 and also to retrieve his affairs, which 
 were in so wretched a state, as probably 
 would have made him a needy man for 
 the remainder of his days, but for an 
 unexpected turn of fortune. A very 
 distant relation died, and left him 
 a very considerable property, and he 
 took, in consequence, the name of 
 Greville. It was now in his power to
 
 AND FRIENDS. 197 
 
 revisit his native land, which he had 
 left five years before ; but, captivated by 
 foreign manners and society, he con- 
 tinued where necessity had originally 
 placed him. One only child was the 
 fruit of his marriage ; a daughter, who, 
 on his departure from England, he had 
 the extreme negligence, to say no worse, 
 to leave with her mother; and it was not 
 for several years that he removed her 
 from the society of one of whose ex- 
 istence it would have been better she 
 had remained in ignorance. I believe 
 she is now in a convent in France or 
 Italy. 
 
 " Gay, clever, and gentlemanlike, Mr. 
 Greville has all his life had great success 
 in society, but no where more so than at 
 Paris ; which is not surprising, for his 
 manners are very agreeable, and not the 
 worse, in my opinion, for retaining some-
 
 198 THE WIFE 
 
 what of his native independence both 
 in speech and action, most peculiarly- 
 striking in this land oifaussete. A great 
 intimacy existed between him, your son, 
 and Mr. Graham ; and I understand 
 they are now at Naples together. As 
 to Mr. Greville's private character of 
 late years, we do not look much behind 
 the scenes at this place ; but I imagine 
 it has not been more sanctified than that 
 of other single men, but quite devoid of 
 public scandal; and though generous 
 and hospitable, he is not extravagant, 
 which shows that his youth or his wife 
 was the cause of his former embarrass- 
 ments. 
 
 " With every wish for your health 
 and happiness, 
 
 Yours, &c. 
 
 Jane Handbury."
 
 AND FRIENDS. 199 
 
 TO MRS. VILLIERS. 
 
 " At length, my dear sister, the long- 
 expected answers to our letters of the 
 5th of March have arrived. The cou- 
 rier to whom we intrusted them was 
 detained by illness on the road, so that 
 
 on reaching , where we imagined 
 
 Elliot to be, he discovered that my 
 son had left that place. The courier ac- 
 cordingly retraced his footsteps, but in 
 the meantime, some letters by the ordi- 
 nary post, of a later date, had reached 
 my son, giving him some suspicions of 
 the true state of the case, which those 
 by the courier confirmed : he is return- 
 ing instantly to England, and may be 
 here any hour, for it was on the road 
 betwixt Calais and Paris that the courier 
 overtook him. From Elliot and the Gre- 
 villes being separated, and the former
 
 200 THE WIFE 
 
 choosing to charge the courier with an- 
 swers to his letters, rather than that he 
 should return to Paris to Mr. Greville, 
 and deliver him his from Lord De- 
 lamore, the last-mentioned dispatch 
 was actually again in our hands — for a 
 very short moment, as you may ima- 
 gine — our object being to put an end 
 to the whole affair as quickly as pos- 
 sible. Elliot's answers are very calm, — 
 Lord Delamore is quite satisfied with 
 them; but I must confess, that their 
 placidity seems to me to arise from his 
 considering our determination more in 
 the light of a threat than a resolve. 
 Your's, &c. 
 
 M. D." 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 " Alas ! my dear sister, I begin to 
 imagine you were right formerly to
 
 AND FRIENDS. 201 
 
 blame our indulgence of Elliot— not 
 that I can recall to my mind any time 
 when the propriety of exerting the 
 authority of a parent was necessary, for 
 he was ever gentle, obedient, and af- 
 fectionate. Were we blind, or is it love 
 that has transformed him, and raised in 
 his mind those passions, which now 
 make me tremble? But to proceed to 
 the events of the last few days : — the 
 particulars of the scene which took 
 place on Elliot's arrival, I neither will 
 nor can relate. He was deaf to reason, 
 to prayers ; he declared his resolution to 
 marry, with or without our consent ; no 
 power on earth should divide him from 
 Theresa, for whom he was ready to sa- 
 crifice friends, fortune, and country. It 
 was in vain Lord Delamore lectured, 
 and I wept; he left the room and house, 
 announcing his intentions of joining the 
 Grevilles again directly ; and he was 
 k 5
 
 202 THE WIFE 
 
 on the very eve of executing his inten- 
 tions, when Mr. Graham interfered, and 
 Elliot established himself at an hotel, 
 waiting, I presume, some concession on 
 our part. On Saturday I heard, but 
 could not believe it, that Mr. and Miss 
 Greville were arrived in London :— it 
 was so, however. She appeared in the 
 evening at the Opera, where her beauty 
 and Parisian dress excited unusual ad- 
 miration ; and on leaving the house, 
 every one in the room flocked to see 
 her pass, in a flattering but oppressive 
 manner. She was leaning on Elliot's 
 arm, Mr. Greville leading the way, es- 
 corting Lady St. John. On Sunday 
 morning Lord Delamore received a very 
 polite note from Mr. Greville, demand- 
 ing an interview, as he understood some 
 obstacles had arisen with regard to the 
 proposed alliance between the families, 
 which a letter he still was to receive
 
 AND FRIENDS. 203 
 
 should have explained. Accordingly, 
 Mr. Greville arrived. I understand he 
 is forty years of age, but he might very 
 well pass for ten years younger— his air 
 is quite that of a young man. He was 
 very well dressed, very well bred, and 
 entered the room with an easy uncon- 
 cern, which rather astonished Lord De- 
 lamore, who was very far from partici- 
 pating in such feelings ; and was in 
 some distress how to open the business on 
 which they met, hi the least harsh and 
 most civil terms. After some little he- 
 sitation, he ventured to declare his ob- 
 jections to the proposed marriage ; what 
 he said was decided ; but perfectly well 
 bred ; he gave his reasons fairly, and made 
 many apologies for apparent fickleness, 
 assigning the true cause, — little know- 
 ledge of the private concerns of any 
 one beyond his own confined circle of 
 acquaintance. Mr. Greville is either a
 
 204 THE WIFE 
 
 most able diplomatist, or the most indif- 
 ferent of men. He listened with the most 
 perfect sang-froid as Lord Delamore 
 concluded, took a pinch of snuff with 
 great precision, and then, in the most 
 gentle voice possible, observed, — that as 
 he was well aware of the severity of his 
 lordship's principles, which were only to 
 be equalled by his merit, he was sorry, 
 but not surprised, at his determination ; 
 that he regretted the affair should have 
 been carried the length it had ; but 
 no blame could be attached to either 
 side, as it arose from his being an ob- 
 scure individual of humble birth — an 
 obscurity, which however in this instance 
 he might regret it, he was not inclined 
 to quarrel with in general, as it happily 
 shielded him, in some degree, from the 
 strictures of a gossiping and malevolent 
 world, which once he had deemed no
 
 AND FRIENDS. 205 
 
 situation in life secure from. This hum- 
 ble speech was rather belied by the air 
 with which it was delivered : as it con- 
 cluded, he rose to take leave. Lord De- 
 lamore detained him a few minutes, by 
 requesting that, as all idea of marriage 
 between their children was at an end, he 
 hoped he would discourage Elliot's visits 
 to Miss Greville. This demand, though 
 put with the greatest civility, was an- 
 swered by Mr. Greville inquiring, haugh- 
 tily, if Lord Delamore imagined he 
 had any intention of forcing his daugh- 
 ter into a family unwilling to receive 
 her ?— ' But,' he added, before Lord De- 
 lamore had time to reply, and with 
 a smile something bordering on a sneer, 
 ' your lordship may be quite easy on 
 that head; I shall leave town to-night 
 for Paris. Elliot dines with us, but I 
 shall not tell him of my intentions, nor
 
 206 THE WIFE 
 
 even my daughter, till he has left us, 
 and the carriage is at the door!' — He 
 then bowed profoundly and withdrew. 
 Yours, &c. 
 
 M. Delamore." 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 " Elliot's spirits had been so much 
 better the last week, that I began to in- 
 dulge a hope that his unfortunate pas- 
 sion was yielding to reason : the fallacy 
 of such an idea I proved, to my great 
 sorrow, yesterday. After Mr. Gre- 
 ville's departure, which a little offended 
 him, he was prevailed on by Mr. Gra- 
 ham to take up his abode again with us. 
 Yesterday morning he did not appear 
 at breakfast; and on inquiry, I found that 
 Mr. Graham had called upon him early, 
 and after a long interview they had gone 
 out together : the servant added, that
 
 AND FRIENDS. 207 
 
 my son looked very much agitated when 
 he left the house. This account rather 
 made me impatient for Elliot's return ; 
 at length, to my great joy, I heard his 
 well-known step ; but my pleasure 
 was only momentary; for, on his ap- 
 pearance, I was convinced that some 
 new misfortune had occurred. He sat 
 down without speaking, and with a 
 look so expressive of misery, that I 
 shall not easily forget it. I implored 
 to know what had so deeply affected 
 him? Judge of my surprise, when he 
 answered me fiercely, ' My grief will 
 be no cause of regret to you — The- 
 resa is married !' — ' Married !' I exclaim- 
 ed. ■ Yes, married,' he replied, — * sa- 
 crificed, I should rather say !' He left 
 the room, and I saw him no more till 
 about an hour ago, when he came to in- 
 form me that he was going with Mr. 
 Graham to Lord St, John's, at Rich-
 
 208 THE WIFE 
 
 mond : his air was that of the deepest 
 dejection. When I inquired how long 
 he would be absent, he replied that his 
 military arrangements would oblige him 
 to return in a day or two. I started, 
 not being aware that they were at all 
 advanced far enough, to be any thing 
 beyond a private matter of discussion. 
 Elliot observed my emotion, and, taking 
 my hand, said earnestly : — ' I hope my 
 dear mother requires no more sacrifices 
 from her son !' I faintly answered, that 
 I trusted his entering the army would 
 be a means of diverting his mind, and 
 restoring his spirits. Elliot sighed deep- 
 ly and left the room, with a heart not 
 more sad than hers he had quitted. 
 
 " I have with some difficulty collected 
 a few particulars of Miss Greville's mar- 
 riage, with which I will conclude my 
 letter. It appears that the Comte d'Har- 
 court, passing one evening in Miss Gre-
 
 AND FRIENDS. 209 
 
 ville's company, was so captivated by her 
 beauty as to propose for her in marriage 
 to Mr. Greville the following morning ; 
 the proposal was made through his fa- 
 ther, who was no less captivated by her 
 twenty thousand pounds. The Comte 
 d'Harcourt is in every respect an ad- 
 vantageous alliance, being young, good- 
 looking, and of a noble family ; but the 
 engagement to Elliot was a very suffi- 
 cient answer to his proposal, with which 
 he was obliged to be content. Elliot 
 was just then gone to England, the 
 Grevilles remaining at Paris to follow 
 in a few days. 
 
 " It seems as if Mr. Greville had his 
 misgivings, even then, that the marriage 
 between our families was not likely to 
 take place ; for otherwise he never could 
 have told M. d'Harcourt that, should 
 any obstacle arise, Theresa should be his : 
 a promise that he fulfilled so precisely,
 
 210 THE WIFE 
 
 that I am informed the marriage actu- 
 ally took place at St. Denis, where they 
 were met by the impatient lover, on 
 their way from Calais to Paris. This 
 event was communicated by Mr. Gre- 
 ville in a letter to Mr. Graham, and by 
 him was imparted to poor Elliot ; not a 
 word was said of Miss G , and I be- 
 lieve his grief is in some measure en- 
 hanced by a feeling of the possibility of 
 her having yielded, but too willingly 
 perhaps, to the wishes of her -father. If 
 such is the case, Elliot has had a most 
 fortunate escape in every respect; if 
 otherwise, alas ! poor girl, much as I re- 
 joice in an insurmountable barrier being 
 placed betwixt her and my son, I could 
 yet weep for what her feelings must 
 have been when she found such was 
 the case. 
 
 Your's, &c. 
 
 Maria Delamore."
 
 AND FRIENDS. 211 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 " When, oh when, my dear sister, 
 will the troubles cease which Elliot's 
 unfortunate attachment have occasion- 
 ed ? Just when I had hoped he was 
 more reconciled to his loss, a fresh event 
 has occurred which will again tear open 
 his wounds, and may, probably will, 
 be the cause of incalculable evil. The 
 Comtesse d'Harcourt is ill, dangerously 
 so ; she has desired to see Elliot ; he has 
 flown to her, — has left England, — is gone 
 to Paris ! What can be the result of 
 such a step, if she recover, or if her ill- 
 ness prove fatal ? — if the latter be the 
 case, I dread every thing from Elliot's 
 despair; if the former, this proof of 
 their attachment being unchanged may 
 lead to the greatest misery, and perhaps — 
 which God in His mercy forbid — guilt. 
 That kind young man, Mr. Graham, is 
 gone with him."
 
 212 THE WIFE 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 " Dover. 
 " I enclose a letter which will ex- 
 plain all. I am just embarking for France. 
 Elliot, my dearest Elliot, is dangerously 
 ill. — Alas ! alas ! why did we resist his 
 wishes ? It is now too late. The Com- 
 tesse d'Harcourt is dead — young and 
 lovely, she has sunk to an early tomb, — 
 and Elliot, our pride, our hope, perhaps 
 even now he is no more!— Pity and 
 pray for your affectionate sister, 
 
 M. D." 
 
 (Letter enclosed.) 
 
 " My deau Madam, 
 " Without entering into any of the- 
 particulars of our journey, T hasten to 
 inform you that we are arrived, and 
 Elliot is, upon the whole, better than I 
 expected ; and I am also happy to add, 
 that the accounts of the Comtesse d'Har-
 
 AND FRIENDS. 213 
 
 court are more favourable, though I 
 greatly fear, from what Greville says, 
 (whom I have seen,) that her ultimate re- 
 covery is hopeless. Poor Greville is deep- 
 ly afflicted, and was, on first seeing me, 
 far too much agitated to be able to con- 
 verse with tolerable composure : it was 
 only at the conclusion of my visit that I 
 gathered from him, that ever since The- 
 resa's case had been pronounced danger- 
 ous, she had expressed a wish to see 
 Elliot; her importunity was at last so 
 great, that Greville obtained permission 
 of Harcourt, that Elliot should be in- 
 formed of her desires. Nothing but 
 the conviction of her approaching end 
 would have made Greville take such a 
 step. — ' As it is,' he said, ' the opinion of 
 the world will be of little moment in the 
 grave, and its censure must be silenced 
 when its object is removed to a more 
 merciful Judge, I trust, than we are to
 
 214 THE WIFE 
 
 one another.' — To-morrow, Elliot is to 
 see Theresa : after the interview, I will 
 close this letter." 
 
 " Friday. 
 
 " If I had time, words would fail me to 
 give you more than a brief outline of the 
 events of this morning. Theresa, poor 
 Theresa, is no more ! At the hour ap- 
 pointed, which, to avoid remark, was early, 
 Elliot and myself repaired to the Hotel 
 d'Harcourt. He was instantly admitted 
 into Theresa's apartment, Greville and 
 myself remaining in the ante-room, a 
 door of communication being left open 
 between the apartments. A quarter of 
 an hour, or perhaps not so much, elaps- 
 ed, when a scream from Theresa's maid, 
 who was also in her room, made Greville 
 rush in : I followed. The dreadful truth 
 was then too manifest. Poor Theresa's 
 early fate was closed ; and Elliot, not 
 less an object of pity, lay pale and mo-
 
 AND FRIENDS. 215 
 
 tionless as her whose last sigh he had 
 just received. 
 
 " In a moment, the room was full of 
 people, amongst others, Harcourt: all 
 was confusion. With the assistance of 
 some one, to whom Greville spoke with 
 authority, I conveyed Elliot to the car- 
 riage. I cannot conceal from you that 
 he is very ill : his pulse is high, and the 
 physician who has blooded him will not 
 pronounce his opinion : quiet is essen- 
 tial, and therefore I have accepted an 
 offer by a friend of mine, of a house at 
 St. Cloud, where we shall be in reach of 
 medical advice, and out of this noisy 
 city and noisy hotel. After what I 
 have said, it is needless, I am sure, to 
 add the hope, that you or Lord Dela- 
 more will instantly repair to your son, 
 which I am the more desirous for, as 
 my father is very impatient for my re- 
 turn to England; but I certainly will
 
 216 THE WIFE 
 
 not quit Elliot until you are with him. 
 Your soothing care, I am sure, will be 
 more conducive to his recovery than 
 any other medicine whatsoever. — Ac- 
 companied by the physician, we leave 
 Paris at an early hour to-morrow morn- 
 ing for St. Cloud. 
 
 I remain, &c. &c. 
 
 Charles Graham." 
 
 to mrs. villiers. 
 
 " Portsmouth. 
 " My dearest Sister, 
 " Elliot has sailed. Last night the 
 ship got under weigh ; this morning it still 
 appeared, though only a speck in the hori- 
 zon; now, even that vestige is vanished. 
 He is gone to meet dangers and difficul- 
 ties which it would have broken my heart 
 once to think of his encountering :— -he 
 is separated from us, perhaps for ever ; 
 for, if he survive, we may have long
 
 AND FRIENDS. 217 
 
 sunk to rest ere he returns ; and yet I 
 am calm, and I could say almost con- 
 tent. There was no alternative; Elliot's 
 state of mind required active exertion ; 
 our only hope for his future peace was 
 to allow him to follow the bent of his 
 inclination. May the step he has taken 
 arouse him from his grief ! and may the 
 same Providence who has so lately re- 
 stored him from the verge of the tomb, 
 watch over and protect him, and pour 
 the balm of peace into his wounded 
 mind ! My grief for his loss is restrain- 
 ed by my trust in our Heavenly Father ; 
 it is the remembrance of His mercies 
 through a long life, which checks the 
 voice of complaint ; and if it is His 
 will that I should never embrace my dear 
 boy again — if, contrary to the course of 
 nature, I should survive, may the Al- 
 mighty hand, who inflicts the blow, 
 give his father and myself fortitude to 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 THE WIFE 
 
 bear it, not without feeling, but without 
 murmuring. 
 
 " Your information with regard to 
 Mr. Graham's marriage is correct. I 
 trust he will find the happiness he de- 
 serves. How little do we know what is 
 best for ourselves or others. When first 
 I heard of his intimacy with Elliot, I 
 remember feeling sorry that such should 
 be the case. I knew nothing of him 
 but by report, which described him as an 
 idle, extravagant, gay young man, de- 
 voted to pleasure, early launched into 
 the world with no guide but a father, 
 who valued himself on the name given 
 to the companions of the Regent Duke 
 of Orleans — that of Roue\ I trembled at 
 the idea that such was my son's friend ; 
 the captivation of wit and talents, 
 which those that blamed him gave him 
 credit for, was only to render him 
 so much the more dangerous. Most
 
 AND FRIENDS. 219 
 
 groundless, indeed, were my fears, and 
 most heartily ashamed am I, ever to 
 have been prejudiced by the gossip of 
 the world against a young man, who, 
 whatever may have been his very early 
 follies, has merits more than sufficient 
 to counterbalance them over and over 
 again. His kindness to Elliot has been 
 beyond all praise ; his unwearied atten- 
 tion to him at the time of poor Theresa's 
 death, may have been the cause of sav- 
 ing his life, for he was at that moment, 
 I fear, capable of any rash act; and, after 
 the first violence of his despair was over, 
 until our arrival, Graham still watched 
 night and day over him with an anxiety 
 which the French physician, who gave me 
 the account, said could only be compared 
 to that of a lover for his mistress. And 
 this is the man who, in my blind folly, I 
 lamented my son's acquaintance with ! 
 " Farewell, my dear sister ; we are 
 l 2 

 
 220 THE WIFE 
 
 setting off immediately for Delamore 
 Castle, where the prospect of your and 
 Mr. Villiers's promised visit is the most 
 agreeable perspective in the gloom of 
 my future childless days. 
 
 Yours, &c. 
 Maria Delamore." 
 
 It would be impossible to describe 
 the various conflicting feelings which 
 agitated Caroline's mind on perusing 
 the above letters. Had those concerned 
 in them been indifferent to her, the in- 
 terest in their contents would have been 
 great ; but so connected as she was with 
 him to whom they related, she felt at 
 times almost too much agitated to be 
 able to proceed. When they were con- 
 cluded, however ; when the whole truth 
 of Lord Delamore's character, his former 
 passion, contrasted with his present in- 
 difference, lay open to her view, the
 
 AND FiUEN'DS. 221 
 
 most bitter feeling of regret and disap- 
 pointment took possession of her mind. 
 Caroline was young, handsome, sus- 
 ceptible; she had sense and talents; 
 an admiring world, if she knew it not 
 before, had not left her ignorant of 
 what she was ; and her heart had often 
 whispered, that her lord was unworthy 
 of her; that all his rank, and fortune, 
 and grandeur, could not compensate for 
 one thing wanting — love. No doubt on 
 that subject could any longer exist ; he 
 cared not for her, never did care for 
 her ; he had married to please his pa- 
 rents, and to have an heir to his estate ! 
 
 Caroline's eyes rested on her wedding 
 ring : — " Until death alone do us part," 
 she exclaimed with a heavy sigh ; then 
 pushing the papers into a drawer, she 
 walked to the window. " I could have 
 reclaimed him had he been inconstant ; 
 I could have softened him had he been
 
 222 THE WIFE 
 
 unkind; but I cannot war against the 
 dead. A cold heart, I have the vanity to 
 suppose, I might move ; but where there 
 is no heart at all, an angel from Hea- 
 ven could not but fail. Why ! oh why, 
 then, did I marry ?" And with this too 
 common mental inquiry, the tears chased 
 each other down her cheeks, and, throw- 
 ing herself on the sofa, she allowed 
 them to flow unchecked. Caroline had a 
 mind not deaf to reason ; mortified and 
 disappointed as she was by the history 
 she had read, she could yet rejoice, that 
 as such existed she was no longer in ig- 
 norance. In one respect, Lord Dela- 
 more's character was raised in her esti- 
 mation; to a youthful mind such as 
 Caroline's, though she despaired of ever 
 possessing his love herself, it was some- 
 thing satisfactory that he had felt its 
 power. Still there was enough for re- 
 gret and wretchedness. Even the late
 
 AND FRIENDS. 223 
 
 Lady Delamore seemed no longer to 
 have been the disinterested friend she 
 had ever appeared ; the perfection of 
 her character was sullied. " Had she 
 told me," thought Caroline, " all I now 
 know, it would have been better for 
 her son and me ; in her blind partiality, 
 she thought, to be his wife, was happi- 
 ness sufficient for a reasonable woman — 
 the possession of his affections a trifling 
 consideration unworthy being dwelt on ; 
 she meant for the best, and I must do 
 my best to be a good wife." 
 
 From this time may be dated a com- 
 plete change in Caroline's sentiments to- 
 wards her lord; she pitied him, and did 
 not respect him less; but all warmer 
 feelings melted gradually away. Love 
 cannot exist without some support from 
 the object of affection ; otherwise a pic- 
 ture, or a statue, might as easily inspire 
 a passion as one dead
 
 224 THE WIFE 
 
 •" to the dearest theme 
 
 That ever warm'd a minstrel's dream." 
 
 In friendship, in maternal love, she 
 hoped to solace herself for the disap- 
 pointment in a more tender passion ; — 
 a disappointment from which she had 
 the wisdom so far to extract comfort, as 
 to consider how much worse had been 
 the fate of many others of her sex, 
 who, married with far brighter pro- 
 spects of happiness than herself, and 
 having tasted of the cup of bliss, had 
 found it dashed from their lips by death, 
 or, worse, the inconstancy of man.
 
 AND FRIENDS. 225 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Lord Delamore's affairs obliged him, 
 somewhat against his will, to revisit De- 
 lamore Castle, before he established his 
 family at High wood. Caroline intended 
 and imagined her reception of him w r as 
 as usual ; but the fact was not so ; she 
 was absent, and silent; the hope which 
 had formerly influenced her conduct was 
 gone, and, without herself being con- 
 scious of the change, there was an in- 
 difference in her manner, which Lord 
 Delamore well observed, and which, with 
 his general mode of quick decision, he 
 L 5
 
 226 THE WIFE 
 
 placed to the account of increased distaste 
 for a country life ; a taste he also de- 
 cided upon as attributable to her late dis- 
 sipated habits. He asked no questions, 
 fearing to be informed of the truth, and 
 only marked his own feelings by still 
 greater reserve and coldness in his man- 
 ners — a style of conduct not likely to 
 produce in Caroline a more cheerful 
 view of her future prospects, or a more 
 friendly feeling towards her lord. 
 
 On a cold wet evening, in the begin- 
 ning of October, Lord and Lady Dela- 
 more reached Highwood. This new- 
 purchased residence was large and com- 
 fortless, situated on an extensive piece of 
 barren ground, designated a park, but 
 to which its last possessor had destroyed 
 all title, by cutting down every stick of 
 timber, and selling the deer. The house 
 was built in the worst style that pre- 
 vailed a century ago. A large hall and
 
 AND FRIENDS. 227 
 
 staircase occupied the whole centre, which 
 to warm, defied the art of man : from 
 this point diverged numberless small 
 and irregular rooms. Having passed 
 through two of these, Caroline entered 
 what was termed the drawing-room ; an 
 apartment very little resembling that so 
 called by a modern lady of fashion. A 
 dozen faded blue damask chairs, a small 
 pembroke table, two marble slabs on gilt 
 legs between the windows, surmounted 
 by small, round looking-glasses in gaudy 
 frames, added to a melancholy portrait 
 of the late owner over the chimney, 
 which no living creature cared to save 
 from the hands of strangers, comprised 
 the furniture of this principal apartment 
 in the house. A cheerful fire, how- 
 ever, blazed in the ample grate, towards 
 which Caroline sprung with unfeigned 
 delight. 
 
 " I am afraid," said Delamore, " you
 
 228 THE WIFE 
 
 will find this house worse than you 
 expected." 
 
 " Oh, I dare say not ; you always 
 described it as capable of improve- 
 ment." 
 
 ¥ The last proprietor judged very dif- 
 ferently," observed Lord Delamore, re- 
 garding the portrait before him. " Grief, 
 at being obliged to quit this house, it is 
 said, accelerated his end." 
 
 ¥ Poor man !" sighed Caroline : " I 
 wonder whether such attachment is 
 catching, and whether we shall ever incur 
 the same danger for love of these old 
 bare walls ?" 
 
 " These old bare walls, as you term 
 them, I have no wish should remain as 
 they are : the inside of the house you 
 may exert your fancy or taste in trans- 
 forming as you please; the outside I 
 shall consider my department." 
 
 " And both, in our several ways, will
 
 AND FRIENDS. 229 
 
 be at no loss for employment," said Lady 
 Delamore, casting a piteous glance at 
 the window. " Planting, I hope, will be 
 one of your first steps. I shall be very 
 sorry if, when Elliot is married, we can- 
 not get wood from our own domain to 
 make a bonfire." 
 
 Lord Delamore liked not what is 
 termed badinage in any one, and in his 
 wife it was particularly disagreeable to 
 him. He never showed displeasure in 
 words however, his actions being suffi- 
 ciently intelligible; and at this time, 
 the abrupt manner with which he took 
 his hat and left the room, was more 
 strongly expressive of his feelings than 
 the most angry lecture. Caroline's effort 
 at gaiety was extinguished ; a sigh burst 
 from her heart, and a tear rushed to her 
 eye. " Such is always the end to any 
 thing but the most serious discourse. 
 Well, my efforts at merriment must soon
 
 230 THE WIFE 
 
 cease, and I may well be surprised they 
 have lasted so long. Perhaps, when I 
 am dead to all pleasure, silent, and 
 broken-spirited, Lord Delamore may 
 think the untimely fate of Theresa suffi- 
 ciently avenged by the sacrifice of his 
 wife's happiness, and may have some 
 compassion upon one, who, but for him, 
 might have been the gayest of the gay ; 
 who might have met some one, who, 
 without all the hateful trappings of 
 wealth and power, which conceal but 
 cannot cure the desolate heart ; who, in 
 the despised Caroline, would have found 
 one worthy of being loved for herself, 
 with whom she might have trod the in- 
 tricate path of life in confidence and 
 cheerfulness; not as now, blindly in- 
 dulged, or as blindly reprehended." As 
 Caroline ceased, for she spoke aloud, she 
 heard a sigh from some one near her : 
 turning quickly round, she saw the
 
 AND FRIENDS. 231 
 
 room-door hastily closed : in a moment 
 she re-opened it, to see who the intruder 
 might be, and caught sight of the figure 
 of a man, who vanished through the 
 door leading into the hall. " Lord Dela- 
 more it must have been," thought Caro- 
 line ; but at that moment Lord Dela- 
 more appeared in front of the house, 
 walking with his agent from an oppo- 
 site direction. " Well, the best thing 
 for me, probably, would be to discover, 
 that the ghost of the late owner of the 
 house continues to haunt it, for my me- 
 ditations were the very worst possible 
 for mortal ears." And Caroline returned 
 to the fire, to ruminate upon whom it 
 could have been, and rather to regret it 
 was not Lord Delamore. 
 
 The following day, Caroline and her 
 lord walked out, directing their steps to 
 a neighbouring village. The little com- 
 munity seemed in no small agitation ; the
 
 232 THE WIFE 
 
 cause was soon explained. That morn- 
 ing their rector's eldest daughter had 
 married a young clergyman of the neigh- 
 bourhood, and in honour of the event, 
 her father had given a rural f&te to his 
 parishioners, in which a plentiful repast 
 had been crowned by a dance on the green 
 before his door, which was being execut- 
 ed with becoming spirit, when Lord and 
 Lady Delamore mingled amongst the 
 spectators. His lordship felt no inte- 
 rest whatsoever in the scene : but not so 
 Caroline; to her it was the very sight to 
 excite all her lively and tender sensibi- 
 lities. Though the rector was no re- 
 specter of persons, yet the poor class, 
 content with an hearty meal, remained 
 only as lookers-on, or retired entirely. 
 The dancers were of the rank of farmers 
 or tradesmen's families, amongst whom 
 the sisters of the bride were as conspi- 
 cuous for their good looks as simple
 
 AND FRIENDS. 233 
 
 attire ; for " the town has tinged the 
 country," and simplicity in the genteel 
 world of a country village is as rare as in 
 the most crowded metropolis. 
 
 " Is not that Graham ?" said Lord 
 Delamore, after a pause. Caroline fol- 
 lowed his glance, and observed a young 
 man in the dress of a sportsman, convers- 
 ing with the rector. It was he, indeed ; 
 and in a few minutes more he took the 
 hand of a pretty little girl of ten years 
 old, for whom the beaux were not suffi- 
 ciently numerous to afford a partner, 
 and joined the medley dance. To please 
 the rural throng was not a very difficult 
 task, and Graham's dancing better judges 
 had often admired. It was the good- 
 nature, not the skill of the performance, 
 however, which now drew forth a quiet 
 though general buzz of approbation, as 
 Graham flew down the dance with his 
 elated little partner ; and every one
 
 234 THE WIFE 
 
 seemed to have his pleasure enhanced, 
 and his self- consequence raised, by his 
 landlord being a partaker in his amuse- 
 ments. The dance being concluded, and 
 Graham's partner delivered to her homely 
 parent, the village grocer, he was not 
 long in discovering Lord Delamore's tall 
 figure preeminent in the crowd; and a 
 bonnet, which no rustic belle, however 
 bedizened, could have ever possessed, 
 close by his elbow, gave notice that 
 Lady Delamore was also one of the 
 party. In a moment he was with his 
 friend ; and, after a cordial shake of the 
 hand, he said, laughing, " I foresee, De- 
 lamore, you will be a most dangerous 
 neighbour. Not four-and-twenty hours 
 have you been in the country, and you 
 have witnessed a prank more suited to 
 days long gone by, than to my present 
 sobered character. But let me do the 
 honours of the village to you, and intro-
 
 AND FRIENDS. 235 
 
 duce you to the giver of the fete. Will 
 Lady Delamore allow me to conduct her 
 to the aristocratical portion of the com- 
 pany, where a certain shovel-hat is ready 
 to sweep the ground at your presence, 
 and the back of a very unbendable 
 figure to follow its example, if possible, 
 by stooping to your feet ?" 
 
 Caroline had no objection, and her arm 
 was for a moment in Graham's. Lord 
 Delamore, however, spoke in opposition ; 
 he detested greeting in the market- 
 place, and wished to be walking home. 
 The question was not worth discussing ; 
 his wife and friend, therefore, followed 
 his opinion, and also his steps, and they 
 were soon removed from the sight and 
 noise of the fete. Mr. Graham remained 
 with Lord and Lady Delamore during 
 the remainder of the walk. The con- 
 versation was entirely between him and 
 his friend, on subjects which Caroline's
 
 236 THE WIFE 
 
 ignorance prevented her joining in, and 
 which, at another time, she would have 
 hardly attended to at all ; but there was 
 a spirit and vivacity in Mr. Graham's re- 
 marks that arrested her attention, though 
 they were solely upon, to her, the unin- 
 teresting topics of farming and horses ; 
 which, added to the most persuasive 
 voice which ever met her ear, made her 
 listen with pleasure to one for whom her 
 esteem had been considerably raised by 
 the perusal of Lady Delamore's letters. 
 Mr. Graham was not what is strictly 
 termed handsome,— and a painter would 
 have turned with contempt from any 
 one who dared pronounce him so, — yet 
 handsome he had been more often 
 called than not. He possessed one of 
 the greatest charms in looks — counte- 
 nance ; in it beamed sense, good-nature, 
 spirit, and, for once, it was a faithful 
 index of the mind; such he was, and 
 much more, — just, humane, open, happy
 
 AND FRIENDS. 237 
 
 in the happiness of others, free from all 
 selfish care, cheerful, generous. Is it, 
 then, surprising Lord Delamore felt for 
 him an affection of which the friendships 
 of men rarely produce instances ; or that, 
 sick of the world, indifferent to its praise 
 or censure, unsocial and melancholy, 
 he still clung to Graham, — still, for 
 his sake, cherished an existence which, 
 when he lost Theresa, lost its greatest 
 charm ? 
 
 Before Mr. Graham took leave, it was 
 agreed that the following day Lord 
 Delamore and Caroline should dine at 
 Branches Park, the name of Mr. Gra- 
 ham's seat. The following day accord- 
 ingly they repaired to fulfil their en- 
 gagement; and during the short drive, 
 for the carriage-road was not more than 
 three miles, and the foot and horse- way 
 much less, Caroline tried to drag from 
 her lord some particulars of Lady Juli- 
 ana Graham, on whom she considered
 
 238 THE WIFE 
 
 something might depend in rendering 
 her residence at Highwood agreeable 
 or otherwise. Former experience had 
 taught her that such inquiries were not 
 usually very satisfactorily answered by 
 Lord Delamore ; but she was not always 
 discouraged, and would question and 
 cross- question till she sometimes gained 
 the information she wanted. 
 
 " Is Lady Juliana handsome ?" she 
 inquired. 
 
 " I do not know," was the decided 
 answer. 
 
 " You never saw her then ?" 
 
 " Two or three times." 
 
 " And have forgot her looks ?" 
 
 " I rather believe she is reckoned 
 handsome," said Lord Delamore, put- 
 ting down the glass to look at the horse 
 the servant rode. 
 
 " I wonder whether she is agreeable?'' 
 observed Caroline. — No answer.
 
 AND FRIENDS. 239 
 
 " I do not believe she has lived much 
 in the world." — No answer. 
 
 " Do you know, Lord Delamore, if 
 she is clever?" So direct a question 
 produced a reply. He understood she 
 was a sensible woman. 
 
 " And likely," continued Caroline, 
 a to make an agreeable neighbour." 
 
 "That must depend as much upon 
 yourself as her, I should imagine," 
 replied Lord Delamore, with his usual 
 solemnity. Caroline asked no more 
 questions ; for at that moment they were 
 in the Park, and her thoughts had full 
 occupation, without any need of specu- 
 lations as to Lady Juliana's good or bad 
 qualities. 
 
 Branches Park, in any county or 
 country, might be reckoned a fine place. 
 It owed, however, more to art than na- 
 ture ; but as Caroline had been no great 
 traveller, she was not inclined to quarrel
 
 240 THE WIFE 
 
 with it for a certain air of stiffness and 
 formality, which, however artfully dis- 
 posed, must be the prevailing character 
 of a made place, and which, to the fasti- 
 dious eyes of those really conversant in 
 fine natural scenery, may be more dis- 
 agreeable than pleasing to the view. 
 Within the house, which was an ex- 
 tensive and elegant building, the same 
 air prevailed as without, and in a much 
 more appropriate sphere. Silk hangings, 
 mirrors, pictures, china, all that luxury 
 could invent, or money purchase, met 
 the glance in every apartment, and the 
 Delamores passed through several into 
 that where the family were assembled ; 
 and where, conspicuous by height, 
 dress, and manner, sat Lady Juliana 
 Howard Graham, who, with a formal 
 and not prepossessing air, rose to receive 
 her guests. Though not six-and- twenty, 
 Lady Juliana looked much more; her
 
 AND FRIENDS. 241 
 
 face was handsome, but with a peevish 
 expression of countenance ; she was very 
 tall and large, but an habitual stoop had 
 entirely destroyed what claim she ever 
 had to figure, and gave an awkward- 
 ness to her carriage, which not all the 
 noble blood which flowed in her veins, 
 and of which no lady could be more 
 conscious, could prevent. Being much 
 what is termed over-drest, she seemed 
 to regard with contempt Caroline's 
 simple attire, who, in her turn, could 
 hardly help smiling at any one think- 
 ing it worth while, for a party of six 
 in the country, to bedeck her hair with 
 artificial flowers, and her neck with 
 jewels. 
 
 As soon as Lady Juliana had perform- 
 ed her part of reception, her husband 
 hastened to pay his compliments to his 
 friends, and to introduce them to his 
 sister, and her husband Lord St. John. 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 THE WIFE 
 
 Lady St. John in no one respect bore 
 any resemblance to her sister-in-law : she 
 was short, but well made, and carried 
 herself so as to do full justice to her 
 five feet two. She looked young of her 
 years, and, without being pretty, her 
 bright and somewhat cunning eyes were 
 extremely attractive, particularly when 
 her very ready smiles displayed a row of 
 teeth like pearls. A young lady in out- 
 grown frocks, hair of no unwomanly 
 length, and rather inquisitive looks, 
 gave signs, which nothing else did, that 
 Lady St. John's married career did not 
 begin yesterday. 
 
 The dinner was extremely pleasant, 
 Mr. Graham acted the courteous host to 
 perfection, and, by his lively conversa- 
 tion, soon made Caroline forget that he 
 was an acquaintance of very late date ; 
 that his wife's manners were repulsive, 
 and that his sister's laugh bordered on
 
 AND FRIENDS. 243 
 
 the satirical. But the person in whom 
 animation excited her utmost surprise, 
 was Lord Delamore ; the presence of his 
 friend seemed to have inspired him with 
 a life and powers of conversation she 
 had never witnessed in him before, and 
 which, without expecting to be mate- 
 rially benefited by such an improved 
 disposition herself, yet gave her the 
 most sincere pleasure. To a feeling 
 mind, nothing is so painful as witness- 
 ing the hourly workings of discontent ; 
 to see every advantage of fortune, ta- 
 lent, situation, wasted on their possessor ; 
 and whilst so much real misery exists in 
 the world, — when every day, every hour 
 presents examples of the most poignant 
 distress, which must be borne, from 
 which the sufferer has no time, or wealth, 
 or power, to seek alleviation, and must 
 struggle with as he can ; — when such 
 is too often the case, how mean, how 
 
 M 2
 
 244 THE WIFE 
 
 selfish are the sorrows of such men as 
 Lord Delamore ! 
 
 " In such a world, so thorny, and where none 
 Finds happiness unblighted ; or, if found, 
 Without some thistly sorrow at its side; 
 It seems the part of wisdom, and no sin 
 Against the law of love, to measure lots 
 With less distinguished than ourselves; that 
 
 thus 
 We may with patience bear our moderate ills, 
 And sympathize with others suffering more." 
 
 The whole life of the party was gone 
 when the ladies found themselves in the 
 drawing-room. Lady Juliana was cold, 
 dull, and unbending; her haughtiness 
 of demeanour strangely contrasting with 
 the homeliness of her conversation, con- 
 sisting chiefly of domestic details, never 
 very interesting, and which, in her hands, 
 were painfully wearisome. Caroline's 
 politeness forced her to attend ; but 
 Lady St. John, profiting by not being
 
 AND FRIENDS. 245 
 
 the person particularly addressed, lay her- 
 self under no such restraint, yawning 
 unmercifully, when her bold though 
 abortive efforts to introduce a more live- 
 ly discourse, seemed to have only the 
 effect of plunging Lady Juliana, her 
 spirit roused by opposition, into an ob- 
 stinate relation of all the evils she had 
 suffered from the stupidity of servants, 
 or the neglect of neighbours.
 
 246 THE WIFE 
 
 CHAPTER XIT. 
 
 It is not the period which is spent 
 most gaily, that passes most rapidly; 
 the noiseless foot of time steals gene- 
 rally forward with most apparent expe- 
 dition when there is no particular event 
 to mark its progress one way or the 
 other. The life at Highwood was re- 
 tired and monotonous even to dulness, 
 yet six weeks flew rapidly away. The 
 house was not in a state for visitors, 
 though carpenters and upholsterers were 
 busily employed in finding a remedy for 
 what Caroline regarded as a much more
 
 AND FRIENDS. 247 
 
 serious evil than did her lord; of their 
 neighbours they saw few, excepting those 
 at the Park, and with them Lady Dela- 
 more's acquaintance made little progress. 
 Lady Juliana, cold and formal, content- 
 ed herself with a single ceremonious calb 
 which was in due time returned. Mr. 
 Graham and herself dined once at High- 
 wood, and a second visit had been talk- 
 ed of, but never made. From Lady 
 Juliana, Caroline expected nothing, and 
 therefore was not disappointed to find 
 nothing. Mr. Graham promised better 
 things, but him she hardly ever saw; 
 he was for ever with Lord Delamore, 
 abroad and at home ; but if he fell in 
 Caroline's path, it was entirely accident ; 
 their acquaintance therefore, at the con- 
 clusion of six weeks' neighbourhood, had 
 made no progress. With Lord and Lady 
 St. John the case was different ; they did 
 not think it requisite to follow the ex-
 
 248 THE WIFE 
 
 ample of the heads of the house; he was 
 no great sportsman, nor much addicted 
 to books ; the addition of a pretty lively 
 neighbour was not to be neglected, and 
 a walk to High wood, to sit over a cheer- 
 ful fire with its mistress, soon became, 
 both to Lord and Lady St. John, the 
 most agreeable occupation of the day. 
 
 One reason of Lady St. John's visits it 
 was not very difficult to solve — between 
 her and Lady Juliana little cordiality 
 existed; they were both sufficiently well- 
 bred to keep up appearances ; and when 
 such w T ere not necessary, the bounds of 
 decorum were observed ; but only so far 
 as each, in her inward heart, to consider 
 the other extremely disagreeable. Lady 
 Juliana, though she would have expired 
 sooner than confess the truth, was ter- 
 ribly afraid of her sister-in-law, who, 
 in her turn, despised the former as a wo- 
 man of narrow mind and mean under-
 
 AND FRIENDS. 249 
 
 standing ; and to escape from the society 
 of whom, to that of Lady Delamore, was 
 the height of felicity. Caroline herself 
 was not sorry to have her solitary hours 
 enlivened by a conversible, witty com- 
 panion ; and mutual convenience begin- 
 ning their intimacy, mutual liking con- 
 tinued it. Lady St. John knew enough 
 of the world not to be captivated by 
 mere beauty of person ; but the fascina- 
 tion of Caroline's manners she found ir- 
 resistible. Lady St. John, however, did 
 not make so decidedly favourable an im- 
 pression on her companion. The latter 
 saw in her much to amuse, something to 
 like ; but a want of softness in her man- 
 ners, and a freedom in her ideas and con- 
 versation, fell harshly on Caroline's more 
 gentle feelings. Excepting her brother, 
 no one was secure from her censure or 
 more galling satire; of mankind she 
 seemed to possess no very exalted opi- 
 M 5
 
 250 THE WIFE 
 
 nion, and she was equally indifferent to 
 their good or bad report, either as it 
 regarded others or herself. Her heart, 
 however, was far from cold, and her dis- 
 position was generous and sincere ; when- 
 ever her praise was bestowed, it came 
 with a good will, so as to indemnify her, 
 in some measure, for many harsh and 
 unjust judgments. With her lord she 
 lived perfectly well: he was a plain man 
 in every respect, with good common 
 sense ; he had a high idea of the talents 
 of his wife, and yet was not governed 
 by her. She had made a bold push for 
 the upper hand when she married, — a 
 lively wife of seventeen thinking every 
 thing possible with a grave man twice 
 her years: her failure did not diminish 
 her respect for her husband. Mr. Gra- 
 ham she adored : whatever he willed to 
 do or say, was, in her opinion, " wisest, 
 virtuousest, discreetest, best," — and she
 
 AXD FRIENDS. 251 
 
 would frankly own that had his wife 
 been an angel, she should have consi- 
 dered her unworthy of him. — " As it is, 
 however," she observed to Lady Dela- 
 more, " I should pity any one who was 
 united to her—* Une femme qui est tou- 
 jours dans une chaise, qui ne fait pas un 
 pas, qui est une vraie cendreuse,' as 
 Mademoiselle de Montpensier says of 
 some one or another in her Memoirs." 
 
 " Then, why did your brother marry 
 her — was it love ?" inquired Caroline. 
 
 "Love! — Do not do my brother's 
 taste the injustice to imagine such a 
 thing. If you have any wish to know 
 his history, whenever you have time to 
 listen, I will be most happy to relate 
 it." 
 
 " No time is so good as the present 
 moment ! — You promised to remain the 
 morning, so let us have the whole story ; 
 not mangled and defaced in the common
 
 252 THE WIFE 
 
 style of conversation histories, but, ac- 
 cording to the delightful manner of ro- 
 mance and novel writers, beginning from 
 the cradle." 
 
 " With all my heart," answered Lady 
 St. John, drawing her chair nearer to 
 Caroline and the fire : " but you must 
 take the consequence of perhaps hearing 
 a tedious tale,— more pleasing for me to 
 tell, than you to listen to ; and lacking 
 wonder, though possessing truth. 
 
 " My brother was but a few months 
 old, myself five years, when we had the 
 misfortune to lose our mother. I was 
 myself too young to appreciate her 
 character ; but I have always understood 
 she had every mental quality, united to 
 great personal charms ; which I can well 
 imagine to have been the case, as she 
 had power for six years to influence 
 and retain the affections of a man, 
 who, in after times, proved that his
 
 AND FRIENDS. 253 
 
 natural taste was any thing but domes- 
 tic ; however, during the period of their 
 union, Mr. and Mrs. Graham were es- 
 teemed a very happy pair. My father 
 deplored his loss deeply, and, to divert 
 his mind, entered more into the world 
 than he had ever done before : the re- 
 medy was very efficacious; and being no 
 longer under the safeguard of a virtuous 
 attachment, and influenced by the ex- 
 ample of not very correct companions, 
 he shortly appeared under a very differ- 
 ent character to that for which he had 
 gained credit. His fortune was very 
 large ; and, besides a great annual in- 
 come, he had the untouched savings of 
 his minority, which had been unrequir- 
 ed in the handsome, but not extrava- 
 gant life he and my mother had almost 
 always led in the country. All such 
 wealth was now doomed to fly in every 
 direction, — on the turf, at the gan ing-
 
 254 THE WIFE 
 
 table, and amongst worthless companions 
 male and female. 
 
 " Whilst my father followed his ca- 
 reer, his children were happy and con- 
 tented under the roof of the most amiable 
 of grandmothers. Lady Mordaunt re- 
 sided in the neighbourhood of Bath : 
 she was the most excellent person possi- 
 ble ; kind, charitable, pious, noble-mind- 
 ed. I wonder I am not a great deal bet- 
 ter than I am, having been educated by 
 her ; and more particularly as I am sure 
 some of her good principles have always 
 stuck by my brother; who, of course, 
 had much fewer opportunities of pro- 
 fiting by her advice and example; for 
 otherwise, how could he have escaped 
 the many rocks which have presented 
 themselves in his path ? — how could he 
 be what he now is, after having en- 
 countered dangers which have wrecked 
 thousands ?
 
 AND FRIENDS. 255 
 
 " With my grandmother I lived un- 
 til my seventeenth year : I knew no sor- 
 row but the departure of my brother for 
 school ; but the happiness I experienced 
 at his return repaid me for every tear I 
 then had shed. One annual visit my 
 father paid us, which was always talked 
 of as a matter of great importance be- 
 fore it took place, but in its actual ac- 
 complishment never seemed to give Lady 
 Mordaunt or any one else any pleasure. 
 As I became older, I was more convinced 
 such was the case, and adopted the same 
 tone of feeling out of pure love to my 
 grandmother, without knowing the rea- 
 son of her conduct ; for at that time no 
 whisper of my father's real character had 
 ever reached my ear: the unfortunate 
 death of Lady Mordaunt too soon made 
 me acquainted with it. I was hardly 
 seventeen when this event took place; 
 and my father, not knowing what else to
 
 256 THE WIFE 
 
 do with me, took me home ; — but what 
 a home ! 
 
 " Living in the world hardens one to 
 every thing, and nothing surprises, no- 
 thing shocks one ; absurdity or vice be- 
 ing the prevailing characteristics of, with 
 very few exceptions, every one we meet. 
 — But at the time I speak of I was a child; 
 I had been accustomed to the society 
 of virtuous, well-educated persons, into 
 whose conversation the disorders of the 
 world never entered. My particular 
 companions had been girls of my own 
 age, with their brothers or cousins, with 
 whom I had danced, sung, walked, and 
 romped, to the much greater endanger- 
 ment of our lives than our morals ; I 
 knew not that in the whole world there 
 existed so much depravity as one month's 
 residence at my father's made me ac- 
 quainted with. The only being I could 
 converse with at my ease was my maid ;
 
 AND FRIENDS. 257 
 
 she had lived with me from a child, 
 with her I wept and lamented myself; 
 grief soon took from me the small por- 
 tion of good looks I ever possessed, and 
 with my looks seemed to vanish the 
 equally small portion of my father's af- 
 fection ; he paid me little attention, and 
 excepting at breakfast and dinner, I ne- 
 ver saw him. His friends, who were no 
 small society, were odious to me; their 
 conversation was so openly profligate, 
 that my father's might, by comparison, be 
 termed virtuous. The pleasure of my 
 brother's return home for the holidays 
 was now at an end: I dreaded the in- 
 fluence of such companions on one so 
 young : happily, however, when he did 
 arrive, his age and disposition made him 
 much more inclined to cultivate the 
 acquaintance of the gamekeeper and 
 groom, to that of their superiors ; from 
 them he could learn two useful and
 
 258 THE WIFE 
 
 manly qualifications, — to shoot, and to 
 ride; — from the others, he could only 
 acquire what was bad. Next to the two 
 friends I have mentioned, I was cer- 
 tainly third in Charles's esteem ; and 
 upon a slight indisposition confining me 
 to my apartment, he became the volun- 
 tary companion of my meals and even- 
 ings, — a fortunate circumstance, as re- 
 moving him from the orgies of my father 
 and his worthy allies; and to prolong 
 which good, I contrived my illness 
 should last until my brother's return to 
 Eton; the next holiday, I had a home 
 of my own to offer him, for I was mar- 
 ried. This important event took place 
 about seven months after my grandmo- 
 ther's death. Had Lord St. John been the 
 shoeblack, I should hardly have refused 
 him ; but as it was, I had every reason to 
 be pleased ; and my father was equally 
 so, in disposing of what he considered
 
 AND FRIENDS. 259 
 
 an undisposable person, whose example 
 for once he followed ; the following 
 month he led to the altar a lady who 
 had been some little time his mistress, 
 and rather longer that of various of his 
 friends ! 
 
 " Lord St. John, I verily believe, 
 was the only person disappointed at our 
 marriage ; he knew me only as a tear- 
 eyed maiden, pale and spiritless, with 
 whom he thought to lead a quiet, tame 
 sort of life, never dreaming that be- 
 neath my calm exterior existed, or ra- 
 ther slumbered, the most mad-cap spi- 
 rits, which grief for the loss I had sus- 
 tained, and at the discovery of my fa- 
 ther's character, had for a time obscured. 
 These redoubtable spirits made their 
 way into light, when a certain awe with 
 which the name rather than person of 
 husband inspired me was worn off, to 
 the infinite surprise and horror of his
 
 260 THE WIFE 
 
 lordship. The Christmas after our union, 
 being at our country-seat, my brother 
 and myself played such pranks, that it 
 was reported in the neighbourhood that 
 Lord St. John had married a mad woman. 
 Happily, however, for his peace, I fell 
 dangerously ill, the consequence of my 
 own folly ; and the alarm I was in, and 
 sufferings I endured, rendered me more 
 rational for the future, more obedient to 
 my lord, and consequently more sane in 
 the eyes of the world. — But where am I 
 wandering to ? I am positively infected 
 by Lady Juliana's society, and where I 
 promised my brother's story, am relat- 
 ing one as egotistical and dry as any of 
 her ladyship's; — but I have now done 
 with myself, and will begin a more inte- 
 resting subject. 
 
 " When my brother quitted Eton, my 
 father refused his consent to the two re- 
 quests he solicited : the one, to go to the
 
 AND FRIENDS. 26l 
 
 University ; the other, into the army, if 
 College was not approved of. My father 
 gave his son a large allowance, an esta- 
 blishment in London, and told him, 
 though not in quite such elegant lan- 
 guage, that the proper study of man- 
 kind was man ; in other words, that 
 ignorance of the world was the only 
 ignorance to be feared ; and, provided he 
 gained such knowledge, it little matter- 
 ed if the path was crooked or straight, 
 vicious or virtuous, and that all other 
 knowledge was superfluous. Whether 
 my father ever possessed that voice of 
 persuasion, which can make the worse 
 appear the better reason, I know not; 
 but, at the time my brother became his 
 pupil, that day, if it ever existed, was 
 certainly gone by ; * the weeds of vice 
 without the flower,' are not inviting. 
 
 " Still Charles had perils enough to 
 encounter : rich, idle, well-looking, gay,
 
 262 THE WIFE 
 
 and enterprising, with ardent feelings, 
 high spirit and excellent parts, he be- 
 came the idol of all societies — good 
 and bad, grave and gay, fashionable or 
 dowdy, — in all he was to be found, by 
 all was courted ; the only society he fre- 
 quented not, was his father's; the only 
 house he was a stranger to, was his home. 
 From seventeen till twenty he led the 
 wildest, most vagabond life possible. 
 Amongst other pranks, he and poor 
 
 D (of whom I need not tell his early 
 
 fate and brilliant talents) travelled about 
 the country as strolling players, under 
 fictitious names; and performed upon 
 one occasion, before a very crowded 
 audience, in a theatre in the North, the 
 
 parts of Peachum and Macheath. D 
 
 was the better actor; but Charles had 
 the finer voice, and he sung so well, and 
 acted, however inferior to his friend, 
 with such spirit, as fairly to steal the
 
 AND FRIENDS. 263 
 
 heart out of the bosom of one of his 
 audience— a lady who, however then in 
 obscurity, has since made up for lost 
 time, — I mean, Lady Molyneux. She 
 was the fifth daughter of a needy, 
 drunken, half-pay lieutenant, who re- 
 sided in the town, for the amusement 
 of the inhabitants of which place, my 
 brother and his friend exhibited them- 
 selves on the stage. She was fresh 
 from a very second-rate boarding-school ; 
 very, very lovely, and very wild, but 
 not very shy ; she offered, without any 
 scruple, to run away with my brother, 
 (or rather Mr. Roberts, for that was his 
 110m cle guerre,) and to become his Polly 
 or Lucy, whichever he chose. Charles 
 declined so obliging a proposal, for 
 which the lady owes him infinite grati- 
 tude. The following year Lord Moly- 
 neux, by some odd chance, met her, fell 
 in love with and married her. In Lon-
 
 264 THE WIFE 
 
 don, my brother in his own character, 
 and she in her assumed one, that of a 
 woman of fashion, renewed their ac- 
 quaintance ; and as first impressions are 
 most lasting, hers, as I have been in- 
 formed, and indeed observed, neither 
 her husband, nor, more strange, the 
 world, could so entirely remove, but 
 some lurking symptoms of partiality for 
 Macheath would make their appearance. 
 " Tired at length of the unprofitable 
 life he led, my brother resolved on a 
 more rational mode of existence ; and, as 
 a preliminary step in the reformation he 
 intended, accompanied Lord St. John 
 and myself on a continental tour. We 
 were two years absent, a period I always 
 look back upon as the happiest of my 
 life. I believe Charles was equally plea- 
 sed. Lord St. John had made the grand 
 tour in his youth, so the charm of novel- 
 ty no longer existed for him; but I
 
 AND FRIENDS. 265 
 
 should rather imagine, had that not been 
 the case, his lordship never would have 
 felt the same raptures as my brother and 
 myself at fine scenery, statues, pictures, 
 and buildings, which awakened in us 
 sources of enjoyment we were before to- 
 tally ignorant of, and which, I verily be- 
 lieve, would have made us continue 
 abroad till now, had our motions not 
 depended somewhat on Lord St. John, 
 who, from being an older, or a wiser, or a 
 duller traveller than his companions, was 
 a less enthusiastic one, — home therefore 
 we returned. My brother shortly after 
 came into Parliament, replaced his poor 
 
 friend T> 's loss, by forming his still 
 
 existing friendship with Lord Dela- 
 more, and was made violent love to by 
 Lady Molyneux. This flirtation was one 
 which caused, for one London spring, 
 some talk and some reports, — such as 
 that they had eloped, and other pleasant 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 THE WIFE 
 
 surmises, though I knew their falsehood : 
 it was not agreeable to observe the credit, 
 for at least twenty-four hours, they ob- 
 tained—a credit which no one ventured 
 to dispute but two or three, your hus- 
 band and myself being of the number ; 
 but when the high- tide of London gets 
 a character into its power, it is vain 
 for two feeble creatures to attempt to 
 stem the torrent ; they may be over- 
 whelmed themselves, but do little good 
 to their friend. 
 
 " Such reports were only silenced by 
 my brother and Lord Delamore leav- 
 ing England, and by Lady Molyneux 
 getting a new flirt. It was during 
 Charles's absence, which was for some 
 time, that I began to suspect, what I 
 believe every one else was certain of, 
 the embarrassment of my father's cir- 
 cumstances. He never mentioned his 
 affairs, in any way however slight, to
 
 AND FRIENDS. 267 
 
 his children ; but I heard from various 
 quarters of estates being sold, of money 
 borrowed, dealings with Jews, &c. kc. 
 which, however my father's continued 
 gaiety and extravagance little corrobo- 
 rated, were occasional signs of distress. 
 I began to be more seriously alarmed 
 when the racing-stud was sold. Shortly 
 after, my brother was summoned home. 
 Still, of the full extent of Mr. Graham's 
 positive ruin, I had not the least sus- 
 picion ; and when at length informed of 
 it, in a manner that left no longer room 
 for doubt, no event could have astonish- 
 ed me more, or, when I considered my 
 brother's fallen prospects, have rendered 
 me more wretched. I shall not shock 
 you with the detail of how my father's 
 princely fortune had vanished : he him- 
 self never imagined the extent of the 
 evil till all retrenchment was vain. 
 Charles, on his arrival, strained every 
 N 2
 
 268 THE WIFE 
 
 nerve to place his affairs in some order, 
 or to rescue something from the general 
 wreck of property : his efforts were un- 
 availing, and one thousand a year which 
 he himself possessed in right of his mo- 
 ther, and which he made over to my fa- 
 ther, was all that remained to a man who 
 had found an annual income of forty 
 thousand pounds inadequate for the 
 half of his expenses. Mr. Graham be- 
 came spiritless and gloomy ; and though 
 he had nothing to blame but his own 
 folly, yet he assumed the air and lan- 
 guage of an injured man. All his em- 
 barrassments arose from that "cursed horse 
 who won the Derby —that confounded 
 fellow who had had such a run of luck 
 at cards — that abominable Jew who had 
 made a fortune by his ruin ;" and even 
 he would descend to minor causes— his 
 cooks, grooms, stewards, tailors, coach- 
 makers, upholsterers, had all a hand in his 
 undoing— exactly as if they had forced
 
 AND FRIENDS. 269 
 
 themselves into his service and custom 
 unsolicited. 
 
 " Branches was to be sold. Now, 
 next to himself, my father loved his 
 family mansion, which he had greatly 
 contributed to render the princely resi- 
 dence it now is : to relinquish it, was a 
 heavy blow, and he in vain sought some 
 method of escaping the dreaded sacri- 
 fice. The Earl of Howard, who had 
 travelled out of Northumberland to 
 complete the purchase, threatened to 
 break off the affair unless speedily ar- 
 ranged : my poor father had no alterna- 
 tive, and Charles was given full powers 
 to conclude this melancholy transfer of 
 property, provided some foolish right of 
 shooting on some particular manors were 
 granted my father. The possibility of 
 any country gentleman yielding any 
 point in which the sports of the field 
 were concerned, was to my brother so 
 hopeless an undertaking, that his sur-
 
 277 THE WIFE 
 
 prise was extreme at finding Lord How- 
 ard lend a very favourable ear to the pro- 
 position : — my brother, becoming more 
 sanguine, pushed on his advantage, and 
 found Lord Howard only the more ac- 
 commodating, attentive, and obliging. — 
 His conduct demands explanation. 
 
 " Lord Howard's family was good, 
 but he himself was descended from a 
 younger and very impoverished branch ; 
 he became a soldier, lived hard, fought 
 hard, was promoted slowly, and at the 
 age of fifty, the Mr. Hume of his day 
 having got the knowledge of the 
 strength of the regiment, a battalion was 
 sacrificed to the economist's zeal, and 
 Lord Howard became almost a beggar. 
 
 " The higher branches, however, of 
 the Howard family had been successively 
 cut off by the hand of death, and Major 
 Howard was then brought nearer and 
 nearer to the head of the family ; the
 
 AND FRIENDS. 271 
 
 births had been far less numerous than 
 the mortality, and almost at the very mo- 
 ment the Major was reduced, he found 
 himself, by the sudden exit of two far 
 younger men than himself, possessed 
 of the family title and estate. Having 
 been always necessitated to lead an ac- 
 tive but not an unsocial life, on becom- 
 ing rich and independent, he thought 
 the greatest enjoyment possible was to 
 do nothing and see nobody ; he accord- 
 ingly retired with two maiden sisters to 
 an old tumble-down castle in the North. 
 Here, however recluse his life, he con- 
 trived to fall in love with the daughter 
 of a poor curate; he married her, and 
 she died of ennui, I suppose, poor soul! 
 Lady Juliana was the fruit of this 
 union ; she became the idol and destin- 
 ed heiress of her father, and the eleve of 
 her aunts. As she grew towards wo- 
 manhood, to find a husband for so ac-
 
 272 THE WIFE 
 
 complished, beautiful, and rich a young 
 lady, was the object of all the anxious 
 maidens' thoughts. They worried the old 
 lord out of his life with speculations on 
 this point, and with their alarms for fear 
 she should be carried off by force by some 
 needy fortune-hunter, or worse, love- 
 stricken youth. The labourers in the 
 garden were placed under a system of 
 espionage by these charming old cats, for 
 fear they should prove knights-errant 
 in disguise ; and a handsome ploughman 
 was actually turned away, for having 
 picked up and presented to the heiress 
 of Howard Castle a glove she had lost. 
 
 " Not unwisely, Lord Howard coin- 
 cided with his sisters, in thinking 
 that a proper husband would be the 
 best protection for his daughter, par- 
 ticularly as, at his period of life, any 
 day might deprive her of that of a fa- 
 ther. But a husband in the land they
 
 AND FRIENDS, 273 
 
 lived in was not so easy to find : two 
 males only, besides its inmates, ever 
 passed the threshold of Howard Cas- 
 tle ; the parson of the parish, and an 
 ancient comrade of the Earl's with a 
 wooden leg. The aunts hinted at a 
 house in town ; their brother would not 
 hear of such a thing, but consented, at 
 length, to take one more in the world 
 than the Castle, and where the popula- 
 tion of gentry was not so scanty. 
 Branches was accordingly fixed on ; and 
 to conclude the purchase of which, Lord 
 Howard dragged himself, his sisters, 
 and his rara-avis of a daughter to the 
 metropolis — a visit terribly fatal in its 
 consequences to my poor brother! He 
 had the misfortune, on a first interview, 
 to please Lord Howard; on the second, 
 what was far worse, to please his daugh- 
 ter; and what was worse than all, he 
 pleased the aunts as they caught sight 
 n5
 
 274 THE WIFE 
 
 of him coming up-stairs. The result of 
 such united favour, was the offer from 
 Lord Howard of his daughter in mar- 
 riage, with Branches Park and all its 
 broad lands for her dower. ' By that 
 means,' said Lord Howard to my bro- 
 ther, ' your father may still inhabit his 
 own house, and I may return to Howard 
 Castle. I shall not leave my daughter 
 unprotected when I die, nor your fa- 
 ther nor yourself unprovided for, and 
 you may. be saved ruining your con- 
 stitution in the East Indies, whither 
 I hear you intended to accompany 
 
 Lord : 
 
 Now, my brother cared not for wealth, 
 though he liked independence. Lady 
 Juliana and all her money were not only 
 indifferent, but disagreeable to him ; 
 he was resigned to the loss of fortune, 
 and looked forward with rather pleasure 
 than otherwise to visiting the East. — 
 Yet he married ! — My father wept, im-
 
 AND FRIENDS. 275 
 
 plored, threatened, — the fortune and fame 
 of his family were in his hands, — to 
 refuse such an offer would be the most 
 unheard-of selfishness, to accept it the 
 most noble disinterestedness. Charles 
 listened to his arguments, hesitated, and 
 complied,— most unwillingly complied. 
 I was not present at the sacrifice, I dared 
 not trust myself: I knew too well his 
 feelings, and I knew my own, and, I 
 may add, I knew my father's ! The de- 
 light he experienced and did not con- 
 ceal, of again having the means of con- 
 tinuing, to a degree, his customary course 
 of life, without ever adverting to the 
 price which was to be paid, was to me 
 so truly shocking, that my brother's sor- 
 row would have been less painful to wit- 
 ness than my fathers joy. 
 
 The events of life are uncertain ; I left 
 London to avoid the ceremony, for a tour 
 of a few weeks, during which the news 
 of my father's death reached me— it took
 
 276 THE WIFE 
 
 place suddenly at Branches. This event 
 put my poor brother's self-command to a 
 high trial, and destroyed the little hap- 
 piness his marriage had given him— the 
 having replaced my father in affluence 
 and content ; to which was added, the 
 but too natural reflections, that had his 
 marriage been delayed a few weeks, it 
 would probably never have taken place 
 at all, and that how disproportionate the 
 sacrifice had been to the short-lived sa- 
 tisfaction it had procured ! The excuse 
 of our mutual loss requiring mutual con- 
 solation, induced my brother to visit me 
 alone. It was then, for once, he ven- 
 tured to open his heart to me, and dis- 
 closed his private and hopeless sorrows, 
 and the little prospect of happiness his 
 marriage gave cause to expect ; all evils 
 doubly embittered by that sense of rec- 
 titude, which to a sensitive mind is a 
 perpetual goad; when the duties en-
 
 AND FRIENDS. 277 
 
 joined are more painful than pleasing — 
 the result of principle not of feeling. 
 He remained with me ten days. We 
 have often since had much confidential 
 discourse, but he is silent on the subject 
 of his matrimonial griefs. I could wish 
 his silence proceeded from having found 
 his lot a happier one than he had an- 
 ticipated ; but the more I see and know 
 of Lady Juliana, the less probable does 
 it appear that such should be the case. 
 She loves my brother— she might adore 
 him— the being fond of him, however, is 
 the only merit she possesses." 
 
 " Do not you imagine," said Caroline, 
 when Lady St. John ceased, " that such 
 attachment may have won upon so kind 
 a heart as your brother's, and that that 
 cheerful, happy air he always wears may 
 not be for outward show, but the true 
 picture of his mind?" 
 
 " It may be so," replied Lady St.
 
 278 THE WIFE 
 
 John ; " and perhaps I ought to say, I 
 hope it is so. Charles is not, however, a 
 petted child to spurn every good gift of 
 fortune, because the one most prized is 
 denied him. He can value the bless- 
 ings of health, wealth, children, and 
 friends, though united to a woman inca- 
 pable of exciting either love or esteem. 
 I know what he once was: he is not 
 changed ; his feelings were and are 
 romantic and warm — they are now 
 controlled, not subdued; he lives out 
 of the world, because he dreads their 
 influence; he engages in every pursuit 
 with an ardour the pursuit rarely jus- 
 tifies—it is because he dreads their 
 influence, that their delusive voice 
 should ever unnerve his high-strung 
 purpose. He always loved the sports of 
 the field, and books ; but now they seem 
 joined to the pleasures of benevolence, 
 his only sources of happiness. And
 
 AND FRIENDS. 279 
 
 were he, by some unfortunate chance, to 
 be incapacitated from taking violent ex- 
 ercise, reading, or visiting the sick and 
 poor, I verily believe no human being 
 would be more miserable than my bro- 
 ther.— But, my dear Lady Delamore," 
 continued Lady St. John, rising. " you 
 look so grave, that I really repent hav- 
 ing let you into my brother's history: — 
 if Lord Dorset were here, there is no pu- 
 nishment short of death he would not 
 think I deserved, for bringing a shade 
 upon your lovely countenance : to re- 
 pair the mischief as much as I possibly 
 can, I must, before 1 depart, make a con- 
 fession, which perhaps may restore your 
 smiles. When I lamented myself, that 
 my brother but once had confided to me 
 his domestic distresses, I ought in ho- 
 nour to have mentioned, that I had no 
 one to blame but myself." 
 
 " The reason being," said Caroline,
 
 280 THE WIFE 
 
 smiling, " Que les femmes gardent 
 mieux leurs secrets que celui des 
 autres." 
 
 " Not at all, I assure you, but worse a 
 great deal. I happened to stumble, one 
 unlucky day, on some verses, which 
 thinking somewhat analogous to my bro- 
 ther's situation, I set to a favourite air of 
 his, and sung one evening at Branches. 
 Lord St. John was asleep and did not 
 hear them ; Lady Juliana was awake 
 and did not understand them ; Charles 
 both heard and understood them ; and, 
 from that day to this, has hardly ever 
 mentioned his wife's name to me, or 
 asked me to sing : — the first I am sorry 
 for ; the latter I cannot regret, for his 
 superior knowledge of music made me 
 always perform before him in fear and 
 anxiety. To show you the extent of 
 my crime, I must repeat the verses, 
 which when you have heard, I dare
 
 AND FRIENDS. £81 
 
 say you will hate me for ever having 
 had the impudence to sing or say; not 
 but that I imagined to divert my 
 brother." 
 
 " Oh! I '11 reform ; I will; I swear! 
 To Hymen I '11 address my vows, 
 And I '11 instruct my son and heir, 
 And tend my sheep, and milk my cows, 
 And dose and fatten with my spouse ! 
 
 And now the rustic's toil I '11 share, 
 And wield the fork, and trail the rake ; 
 And at the sermon sit and stare, 
 Till dull observers shall mistake, 
 And fancy I am broad awake. 
 
 And I will taste the sportsman's joys, 
 With hounds and guns pursue my prey ; 
 And find such rapture in a noise, 
 That all the wondering squires shall say, 
 1 am as wise and bless'd as they. 
 
 Then to the festive hall I '11 pass, 
 And in the jovial chorus join ; 
 And sick'ning o'er th' unfinish'd glass, 
 I '11 swear our pleasures are divine, 
 When dulness is improved by wine."
 
 282 THE WIFE 
 
 The author of these lines will be easily 
 discoverable to the learned reader. Lady 
 St. John having sung them with more 
 comic action than voice, dropped a gro- 
 tesque curtsey, and covering her face 
 with her handkerchief, as if ashamed 
 of her performance, made a precipitate 
 retreat.
 
 AND FRIENDS. 283 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The entrance of her boy aroused Ca- 
 roline from a fit of musing, into which 
 Lady St. John's narrative had thrown 
 her. Caroline adored her child ; but 
 her love was not unattended with vex- 
 ation, to which Lord Delamore's alarm, 
 for fear she should spoil him, gave rise ; 
 and in his presence her caresses were 
 never given but in trembling, for fear 
 they should accelerate the dreaded pe- 
 riod of sending him to school, of which, 
 tender as was his age, his father already 
 talked, for his mental and bodily pre-
 
 284 THE WIFE 
 
 servation, as he expressed it. Whether 
 Lord Delamore's gravity alarmed the 
 child, who was of a gentle and timid 
 disposition, or that he had imbibed 
 from his mother those feelings of awe, 
 which but too strongly dwelt upon her 
 mind with regard to her husband at the 
 period of his birth, it is difficult to say : 
 but his fear no power could subdue ; he 
 shrunk from his glance, seeking refuge 
 ever in the bosom of his mother, as if 
 alarmed by some fearful sight. Lord 
 Delamore was hurt at his child's alarms, 
 and resolved to find a cause ; attributed 
 such distrust to Caroline's instructions, 
 an opinion he did not scruple to avow, 
 thus converting Caroline's solitary do- 
 mestic good into a source of unjust sus- 
 picion and distress. Lord Delamore 
 was not an unkind man: he was hu- 
 mane and religious ; he knew and prac- 
 tised his duty both to God and man;
 
 AXD FRIENDS. 285 
 
 but of that towards woman he was un- 
 mindful or neglectful. Yet in the great 
 day of account, our sins of omission as 
 well as commission will be remember- 
 ed; and the man who never let the 
 beggar go from his gate unrelieved, who 
 was not unmindful of the meanest brute 
 beneath his roof, and who knelt morn- 
 ing and evening with his family in 
 prayer, may tremble when the wounded, 
 despised heart of her who was given 
 him to succour, cherish, and protect, is 
 laid open to his view : constancy cannot 
 cover a multitude of sins. " Human 
 life," as the admirable Paley observes, 
 " is more embittered by affronts than 
 by injuries." 
 
 Whether Lady Delamore's manner 
 somewhat betrayed the interest Mr. 
 Graham's history had excited, or that he 
 grew weary of avoiding her, and was 
 constrained to relinquish a system safe
 
 286 THE WIFE 
 
 though irksome, is of little moment to 
 inquire. 
 
 By slow degrees their intimacy in- 
 creased, — by slow degrees their various 
 talents and acquirements unfolded them- 
 selves to each other, and by slow de- 
 grees their similarity of tastes and dis- 
 position discovered itself. Music, that 
 captivating talent, Graham, since his 
 marriage, had been totally unmindful 
 of. His wife had neither knowledge 
 of, nor fondness for, the art ; and he 
 willingly resigned a pleasure, which 
 soon leases to be one when pursued 
 alone, and, however enchanting, is little 
 calculated to cheer or invigorate the 
 mind in solitude or sadness, in which 
 it has a tendency to drive a man of 
 sensibility to despair. Excepting, there- 
 fore, in his walks or rides, when some 
 once familiar air would cross his mind, 
 and, spite of himself, gain utterance,
 
 AND FRIENDS. 287 
 
 bringing with it "visions of long-de- 
 parted joys," the voice of song was 
 never heard at Branches since the day 
 recorded by Lady St. John, until Caro- 
 line's musical talents again aroused in 
 its master a passion which had long lain 
 dormant. Well would it have been if 
 no other passion had been aroused at 
 the same time.* 
 
 On Lady St. John's departure, • Caro- 
 line and Graham seemed obliged to con- 
 sole each other for a loss they both felt. 
 As the spring advanced, constant din- 
 ner parties took place, into whicBKLady 
 Juliana entered passively, and Lord 
 Delamore with the highest delight. 
 
 * Let those who would keep two youthful hearts 
 asunder, beware of music. Oh ! this leaning over 
 chairs, and conning the same music-book, and en- 
 twining of voices, and melting away in harmonies ! 
 — the German waltz is nothing to it. 
 
 Bracebridge Hail, page 313.
 
 288 THE WIFE 
 
 The more Caroline saw of Mr. Graham, 
 the more convinced she became, that 
 Lady St. John's was no exaggerated por- 
 trait ; but if one thing more than ano- 
 ther particularly pleased her, it was his 
 attention to his wife — most striking in 
 the contrast it afforded to Lord Dela- 
 more's behaviour. Lady Juliana was 
 proud, dull, self-sufficient, and igno- 
 rant ; and in no one instance did Gra- 
 ham's manner ever betray how conscious 
 he was that such was the case. Polite, 
 attentive, and considerate, never assum- 
 ing the lover, but always kind and good- 
 humoured — the last quality was often 
 brought into requisition, for Lady 
 Juliana, the spoilt child of two nar- 
 row-minded old women, indulged in as 
 many whims and caprices as any lady 
 could well do, whose sphere of action 
 was not very extended, who was Gra- 
 ham's wife, and moreover of an ex-
 
 AND FRIENDS. 289 
 
 tremely indolent disposition. One of 
 her whims happened, in her husband's 
 ideas, to be a rather fortunate circum- 
 stance—a violent dislike to London. 
 The year after their marriage, they spent 
 some time there ; and, not meeting with 
 the consideration she expected from the 
 ladies of fashion, declared she would 
 return no more. Her husband did not 
 attempt to combat such a resolve. In 
 the country, and with such society as 
 the country affords, Lady Juliana would 
 pass off very well. Her name, her 
 height, and her wealth, made her a 
 person of consideration : in London, 
 such qualifications were nothing, or at 
 least nothing in the society into which 
 Graham introduced her. She had no 
 tact, though haughty ;— no manners, no 
 wit, no taste, no conversation, no in- 
 formation ;— in short, nobody cared or 
 thought about her ; and most of Gra- 
 vol. i. o
 
 290 THE WIFE 
 
 ham's friends, male and female, did not 
 see why he was to care or think about 
 her, or at least why he was not to fol- 
 low a very general example, namely, 
 leave her to go her way, while he went 
 his. Three qualities which Graham emi- 
 nently possessed, prevented him from 
 following a system which, however con- 
 venient, was at variance with humanity, 
 honour, and gratitude; for, however 
 mistaken in the means, gratitude was 
 due to Lord Howard, who, in bestowing 
 on him his daughter, thought to present 
 him with every earthly good ; and who, 
 in making him joint heir with Lady 
 Juliana, of all his property, gave at his 
 death a moving proof of his affection, 
 as well as of his reliance on the character 
 of his son-in-law. 
 
 For five months had one of the gay- 
 est, most fashionable of women, been 
 the inhabitant of a gloomy, retired, una-
 
 AND FRIENDS. 291 
 
 domed spot, with no amusement but such 
 as was to be derived from books, exercise, 
 the company of a taciturn and not loving 
 husband, a child, a dull female neigh- 
 bour, and — the husband of that neigh- 
 bour ! And yet this gay and handsome 
 lady thought three months of the five the 
 happiest of her married life. She knew 
 not herself how to account for the case : 
 sometimes she imagined her pleasure 
 solely consisted in reading ; at others, that 
 it was riding ; or that Lord Delamore, 
 obviously a happier being than formerly, 
 rendered her so. None of these was the 
 secret of her contentment ; and however 
 for a long time ignorant of the cause, it 
 was in Graham that the pleasure of Caro- 
 line's residence at Highwood consisted. 
 It was he who banished that monster 
 ennui, — who soothed her sorrows, who 
 understood her feelings, and participated 
 in her tastes. It was he who presented 
 o 2
 
 292 THE WIFE 
 
 happiness to Caroline, under the most 
 amiable of all forms, even superior to 
 love, — under that of friendship. Ami- 
 able as is the form, it is also dangerous, 
 when the parties are of different sexes, 
 young and married, and most particularly 
 when they are both suffering disappoint- 
 ment in their wedded state ; when both 
 have strong feelings unemployed, and 
 lastly, when such friendship is nourished 
 far from a busy, distracting, observing 
 world, where, whatever its other dan- 
 gers, its votaries are not likely to fall vic- 
 tims to any which have their origin in sen- 
 sibility or tenderness of disposition — the 
 excess of such feelings is like the deadly 
 night-shade, which blossoms in obscurity. 
 Caroline's eyes were somewhat opened 
 to her partiality for Mr. Graham, when 
 about to leave High wood. Then it was 
 impossible for her to imagine that regret 
 at absenting herself from Highwood,
 
 AND FRIENDS. 293 
 
 could be caused by the loss of any at- 
 traction, in Highwood itself. From the 
 reflections which this discovery occa- 
 sioned, she was aroused by him who was 
 so much connected with her thoughts. 
 Graham entered with the air of one to 
 whom a kind reception was familiar. 
 
 " Is Lady Delamore for a walk or a 
 ride, this beautiful morning? — But you 
 are not well. What is the matter? 
 Tell me, I beg of you." 
 
 " Nothing of a more alarming na- 
 ture," replied Caroline, looking down, 
 " than that on Thursday we depart for 
 London." 
 
 Graham started, and walked to the 
 window. 
 
 " Well, I suppose I should congra- 
 tulate you on the prospect of pleasure 
 which London must hold out to a young 
 and beautiful lady like yourself, after so 
 long a seclusion from its delights."
 
 294 THE WIFE 
 
 Caroline was silent ; her countenance 
 gave very little manifestation that the 
 felicitations were well-timed. Graham 
 regarded her intently. — " Perhaps," he 
 continued, " you may dread the con- 
 fined air of London on Elliot's account : 
 — he who has certainly done justice to 
 the air of Highwood, may languish at 
 the change." 
 
 " No," said Lady Delamore at length, 
 " for once Elliot was not in my thoughts 
 — self alone occupied me. I am fond of 
 the country, the retired quiet life we 
 have led here has completely won my 
 heart ; I dread the change ; and if it was 
 not for the pleasure of seeing Lucy Fitz- 
 Edward, I could almost wish to remain 
 in this gloomy house all the year round." 
 
 " It would not be a gloomy house 
 then.— Would that your idea were like- 
 ly to be acted upon !" 
 
 " Why, if it were," said Caroline
 
 AND FRTENDS. 295 
 
 archly, " we should see so much of each 
 other, that a final rupture would sure to 
 be the case." 
 
 ki It is as well perhaps to think so," 
 sighed Graham. 
 
 " Is there no chance," inquired Ca- 
 roline, " of our meeting in town ?" 
 
 " None in the world: I have forsworn 
 London and all its delights ; my lot is 
 cast in the country, amongst the igno- 
 rant and dull of the earth, with whom I 
 must vegetate contentedly, — with whom 
 I did vegetate contentedly, until " 
 
 " Until when ?" demanded Caroline ; 
 " why pause ?" 
 
 " Until Delamore and yourself open- 
 ed my eyes, and showed me that— that 
 my state was capable of improve- 
 ment." 
 
 " Alas !" said Caroline, " there are 
 very few states which are not so." 
 
 Graham looked at her with an eye of
 
 296 THE WIFE 
 
 pity. " Lady Delamore, before we part, 
 I have a confession to make you ; but 
 before I acknowledge my sin, I wish to 
 secure your pardon." 
 
 " What heinous offence have you 
 committed ?— Lost the key of the garden 
 gate, or broken my newly purchased 
 china jar ?" 
 
 " The key and the jar are safe ; — my 
 crime lies in having accidentally heard a 
 soliloquy of yours." 
 
 " Heavens ! the evening of our ar- 
 rival here ?" 
 
 " Even so. You may remember you 
 arrived the day before you were expect- 
 ed ; Delamore had asked me to over- 
 look the preparations for your arrival; 
 according to his lordship's wishes, as I 
 was groping about to see if the fires 
 were lighted and the windows closed, I 
 stumbled upon your fair self musing by 
 the fire-side."
 
 AND FRIENDS. 297 
 
 " And heard from my lips what was 
 never breathed to human ear before. 
 Next to Lucy, you are the person I would 
 perhaps most willingly trust ; but on 
 such a subject it is best to have no con- 
 fidant : for married griefs there is no re- 
 dress ; they must be endured in silence 
 and in sorrow." As Caroline spoke, the 
 tears started to her eyes. 
 
 " Poor thing !" said Graham ; " we 
 are each sufferers ; we should confide in, 
 and console each other." 
 
 " Our cases are not exactly similar: 
 you married, as I have been told, without 
 any great prospect of felicity; I was 
 foolish enough to fancy Lord Delamore 
 in love with me." 
 
 " Strange infatuation ! that he should 
 not have been !" 
 
 " Oh !" replied Caroline, assuming a 
 gayer air, " there is no accounting for 
 tastes ; but when you compare yourself 
 o 5
 
 298 THE WIFE 
 
 in future to me, I beg you will throw 
 the preponderance of misery into my 
 scale : — your wife could not live without 
 you ; my husband, if we were parted for 
 a week, would, I verily believe, forget 
 my existence." 
 
 The last evening before they left 
 High wood, the Delamores dined at 
 Branches; all but Lady Juliana were 
 sad — she was just as usual. On taking 
 leave, Caroline promised to write to 
 Graham.
 
 
 AND FRIENDS. 299 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The meeting of friends after a long 
 absence is as a balm to the spirits ; for 
 a time, all griefs are hushed, and the 
 pleasure of the moment banishes care. 
 Such was the case on the first interview 
 which Caroline had with Miss Fitz- 
 Edward upon her arrival in town ; and 
 the latter, discoursing of it with her 
 aunt, describes Caroline as in great 
 beauty and excellent spirits. 
 
 Subsequent observation, however, con- 
 vinced her that in the last circumstance 
 she was mistaken. Caroline, so far from 
 being in spirits, was melancholy and
 
 300 THE WIFE 
 
 absent ; Lucy sought for the cause, and 
 not unnaturally imputed it to Lord De- 
 lamore. " He was always neglectful," 
 thought she, " now he is unkind ;" but 
 still she observed no proofs that such 
 was the case. Caroline's manner was 
 altered to him ; but his to her was very 
 much what it had ever been. 
 
 Lucy questioned Lady Delamore 
 with the freedom of a friend, but only 
 received answers which attributed the 
 state of her spirits to complaints of her 
 nerves, — to her dislike of London, &c. 
 &c. ; — in short, she talked as hundreds 
 have talked, and will talk again, when 
 the secret disorder is in or near the heart. 
 A faint suspicion of the truth gradually 
 unfolded itself to Lucy's mind. There 
 were colourings when Graham's name 
 was mentioned, — a disinclination to talk 
 of him, — a desire that they should be con- 
 sidered as little acquainted, when they
 
 AND FRIENDS. 301 
 
 were intimate enough to correspond, — 
 which raised in Lucy's gentle bosom a 
 feeling of alarm ; a feeling which return- 
 ed at intervals, and at each time with 
 greater force. 
 
 Notwithstanding the great friendship 
 between Caroline and her cousin, they 
 were — which is not, however, a remarka- 
 ble case— in many respects dissimilar in 
 character, and excepting in one respect, 
 that of being early left orphans, they were 
 also very dissimilar in fortunes. Lucy's 
 character had been formed in the school 
 of adversity ; from her earliest years she 
 had been witness to scenes of sickness 
 and sorrow. Such, however, are not 
 unfavourable to the developement of the 
 human mind ; they bring forth powers 
 which might otherwise lie dormant ; 
 they awaken tenderness and activity of 
 spirit, command patience and forbear- 
 ance, and conquer selfishness, the bane
 
 30^5 THE WIFE 
 
 of prosperity. With her parents, Lucy 
 seemed to lose every good on earth ; 
 they were sick and poor, but they loved 
 each other, and loved their children ; 
 when they were gone, had it not been 
 for a poor little sister, too young to 
 know her loss, Lucy would have seemed 
 to stand alone in the world. The be- 
 haviour of her family w r as not of a kind 
 to diminish her sorrows ; and a sense of 
 dependence upon them, increased the 
 seriousness of a disposition always tend- 
 ing to reflection. 
 
 Early brought up in habits of ex- 
 pense by his father, the Marquis of 
 Gauntlet, Lord Robert Fitz-Edward 
 (the father of Lucy) knew not the want 
 or value of money until his death ; then, 
 when he received the pittance w r hich 
 fell to his share of that sum settled on 
 younger children at the marriage of his 
 parents, the idea first came across his
 
 AND FRIENDS. 303 
 
 mind, that such means were very inade- 
 quate to support the life he had ever 
 led, with his father's house and purse at 
 command. Still he found it difficult to 
 relinquish the habits he had acquired : 
 his embarrassments consequently increas- 
 ed rapidly during his life, and left his 
 two girls at his death dependent on the 
 hearts of those who had no thoughts or 
 hearts but for themselves, until Lady 
 Mary Walters took upon herself to feel 
 and act with regard to them for the rest 
 of the family, and for her life placed 
 them in affluence and happiness 
 
 Lucy was handsome, and, in the soci- 
 ety in which she moved, had admirers ; 
 but, though cheerful, she wanted that 
 spring of life which, when joined with 
 beauty, makes the irresistible charm 
 of youth, and which she had lost long 
 before the world knew her. The men 
 thought her indifferent ; the women
 
 304 THE WIFE 
 
 said she was blue. The first she deci- 
 dedly was not; a warm heart is often 
 concealed beneath a calm exterior, and 
 in the inmost recesses of Lucy's bosom 
 dwelt a strength of feeling which, how- 
 ever heretofore unexerted by any more 
 violent affection than friendship, was 
 capable of being awakened to the most 
 devoted passion. As to the term blue, it 
 was much misused if meant to place 
 Lucy on the same level with the De 
 Staels, Edgworths, or Austins of her day. 
 She was well informed ; her father had 
 given her all he had to bestow— every 
 advantage of education : she knew more 
 than the generality of her sex ; still she 
 was not a blue-stocking, or ambitious to 
 have the character of learned. 
 
 " My dear," said Lady Mary Walters 
 one day to her niece, " I am so glad to 
 find that Lady Delamore discourages 
 extremely Lord Dorset this year."
 
 AND FRIENDS. 305 
 
 " I am glad you think it a fortunate 
 circumstance." 
 
 * Why, do not you ?" 
 
 " You know, my dear aunt, I never 
 partook in your alarms about Lord 
 Dorset's attentions to Caroline: how- 
 ever, I am not sorry that the busy world 
 no longer have their flirtation to can- 
 vass, although I fear . . . . " Lucy 
 stopped abruptly. 
 
 " Fear what ?" inquired Lady Mary. 
 
 Lucy smiled languidly. " I fear a 
 man I never saw, and hardly ever heard 
 Caroline name. You will think me the 
 most suspicious of people, when I tell 
 you whence proceed my misgivings. 
 Mr. Graham is the person — Lord Dela- 
 more's friend, — the volatile Lady St. 
 John's brother." 
 
 " The father of this Graham," said 
 Lady Mary thoughtfully, " was a very 
 profligate character ; but, my dear Lucy,
 
 306 THE WIFE 
 
 what foundation have you for such sus- 
 picions ? — The world, do they talk ?" 
 
 " Oh ! Heaven be praised ! no, and 
 God grant they never may ! No human 
 being but myself suspects, what, after 
 all, I had better not have mentioned, 
 even to you, from whom I conceal 
 nothing. Caroline is most dear to me, 
 and I fear my anxiety makes me fool- 
 ishly alive to whatever may endanger 
 her peace. At one time, her letters 
 spoke frequently of this Graham ; she is 
 out of spirits, but now never mentions 
 him, though she constantly has letters 
 from him ; and she who was the most 
 idle of correspondents, seems to me now 
 to live with a pen in her hand, as if 
 all her occupation was to answer his 
 epistles." 
 
 " And all this without Lord Dela- 
 more's knowledge ?" 
 
 " Oh, no ; it was from Lord Dela-
 
 AND FRIENDS. 307 
 
 more I heard of their correspondence; 
 he spoke of it with seeming satisfac- 
 tion." 
 
 " Do yon know what sort of a man 
 Mr. Graham is,— how he is spoken of in 
 the world ?" 
 
 " The world," said Lucy rather bit- 
 terly, u pronounces him a more moral 
 man than his father. Lady St. John 
 deems him to be perfection itself, but 
 unhappy in marriage." And with these 
 words the conversation ended. 
 
 From the dread of what people might 
 think, Lady Delamore did not exclude 
 herself long from society ; and after she 
 had been a little time in London in 
 comparative solitude, she altered her 
 course, and again assumed the appear- 
 ance of her former light-hearted, dissi- 
 pated self. She succeeded so well as 
 to deceive the world, and in some mea- 
 sure to believe herself, that the tern-
 
 308 THE WIFE 
 
 porary animation which society imparts 
 to the spirits, was the whole extent of 
 the pleasure the world ever had given 
 her, — ever could give her. She was still 
 decidedly the fashion, nor was it likely 
 she should ever be otherwise ; for, if 
 her beauty were to fail, she had still 
 rank, wit, and wealth, to support her 
 claim to popular favour, and moreover 
 the reputation of personal charms, 
 which, in the failure of the substance, 
 does nearly as well : — " Once a beauty, 
 always a beauty." That dread of losing 
 ground in the world, which has haunted 
 many an admired fair one, gave no dis- 
 turbance to Caroline's mind : she moved 
 in society, as if society w r ere made for 
 her; the adulation she hourly received 
 was no small assistance to such delusion, 
 if deluded she was. 
 
 About the end of July, the news- 
 papers announced the departure of the
 
 AND FRIENDS. 309 
 
 Countess of Delamore and Lord Elliot, 
 for Bognor Rocks ; and for once the 
 newspapers spoke truth : but the reason 
 why her ladyship chose to establish 
 herself in an inconvenient house, in a 
 strange place, by an element she had 
 no remarkable passion for, and without 
 an acquaintance to speak to,— neither the 
 editor of the paper, nor the world, nor 
 perhaps herself, could say ; this alone 
 she knew — that she was glad to delay 
 her return to High wood. 
 
 A solitary ramble by the sea-shore is 
 a great promoter of reflection and self- 
 examination ; and Lady Delamore did 
 reflect, and pushed the mental scrutiny, 
 until her whole heart lay open to her 
 view, and she discovered that her friend- 
 ship with Graham had been carried far 
 enough to make it desirable that it 
 should proceed no further. She had 
 not fascinated the hearts of half London
 
 310 THE WIPE 
 
 to bo little purpose as to be ignorant of 
 her power ; she had not read devotion 
 in so many eyes as to be unable to inter- 
 pret the language which Graham's had 
 
 often spoken, and which a little encon- 
 
 ragement might make him deliver in 
 more palpable terms. tw He is too good 
 to be made unhappy," thought Caro- 
 line; "and his lot is not so fortunate 
 as that he can spare any of his small 
 portion of felicity. We may compas- 
 sionate each other, but perhaps it would 
 
 be as well if we had never met were 
 never to meet again." 
 
 Lady Delamore returned to High* 
 
 wood: her manner to IMr. ( ■raham was 
 cold, distant, and reserved. This self-im- 
 posed restraint rendered High wood dis- 
 agreeable, her life melancholy, and Mr. 
 Graham miserable. He, however, did 
 
 not submit long in silence to her altered 
 
 behaviour, and, the first opportunity, dc-
 
 AND IKM NOS. 311 
 
 manded in what lie had oflfi tided, Caro- 
 line was taken by .surprise; and, aft <v a 
 little hesitation, deelared her dislike of a 
 country life, which put her oat of humour 
 
 with every body and every thing. She 
 then, to follow up the farce, began a warm 
 panegyric upon London, which she had 
 not however power to conclude, and stop- 
 ped, ashamed of her own duplicity. Gra- 
 ham, Supposing that her disinclination 
 to continue proceeded from repugnance 
 at expressing dislike of a rural life, to 
 (me doomed to no better an existence, 
 and extremely surprised as well as 
 shocked at sentiments so different from 
 any he had ever heard her utter, begged 
 her to proceed, with a countenance suf- 
 ficiently indicative of his feelings. 
 
 Caroline was silent: — it is more than 
 probable, had she continued in the same 
 strain, that her end would have soon 
 been gained, and that Graham's ad-
 
 312 THE WIFE 
 
 miration would have fallen very low 
 indeed. 
 
 But there was that in his countenance, 
 — a half-sorrowful, half-contemptuous 
 look,— which Caroline but too well un- 
 derstood ; and she would have been 
 more than woman, could she have en- 
 dured such a look from the man she 
 valued, when but one word was wanting, 
 on her part, instantly to change it. 
 
 The word was said ; — Graham's eyes 
 sparkled with delight — more than a word 
 ensued— Caroline thought she said no- 
 thing ; but she said, or gave to be un- 
 derstood, every thing — all that she wished 
 to conceal. Graham laughed. 
 
 " Lord Dorset was right, then, when 
 he called you prude : well, I am glad 1 
 am instructed as to the behaviour of 
 ladies to gentlemen ; and since the new 
 lights I have received, I shall certainly 
 keep a very strict watch upon Lady Ju- 

 
 AND FRIENDS. 313 
 
 liana's actions. My first step shall be 
 committing to the flames a certain green- 
 and-pink purse, which she has been toil- 
 ing at so long to present to Delamore. 
 Who knows what might ensue from 
 such a mark of attention ?" 
 
 Caroline coloured. — " Spare your rail- 
 lery, I implore, or you will make me 
 angry." 
 
 " That I do not believe to be possible. 
 But, my dear Lady Delamore, I honour 
 and comprehend your feelings, but only 
 in moderation. Do not sacrifice a friend 
 to a mistaken sense of decorum ; for the 
 world, which you are so desirous to please, 
 will give you nothing as an equivalent. 
 Friends are not so plentiful as to be cast 
 away as a garment : a good name, Lady 
 Delamore, may be purchased too dearly." 
 
 (i But a good name may be so easily 
 lost !" exclaimed Caroline. " Is it possi- 
 ble for me to be too cautious, when I 
 
 vol. i. ,-„ p
 
 314 THE WIFE 
 
 know the thousand ill-natured things 
 which were said with regard to me and 
 Lord Dorset ? Now, though I bear him 
 no ill-will; yet, should I never meet 
 him again, I should hardly discover his 
 absence : and this man, my very good 
 friends gave me credit for having an in- 
 trigue with. How circumspect, then, 
 should the conduct of women be, if they 
 would wish to escape being classed with 
 those who are a disgrace to their sex !" 
 
 " Circumspect !" exclaimed Graham 
 contemptuously ; " say rather, apathetic. 
 Good Heavens ! your own evidence pro- 
 claims your error. How can those who 
 harbour a thought against such purity as 
 yours, be worthy of consideration ? Let 
 me be your friend, your brother, your 
 servant: whatever my station, do not 
 neglect me. I will see you as seldom as 
 you please ; once a month, once a year ; 
 but, in pity to a poor wretch who has
 
 AND FRIENDS. 315 
 
 no great stock of happiness to play with, 
 let our meeting be in kindness." 
 
 " I do not know how it can well ever 
 be otherwise," said Caroline, extending 
 her hand : " but we differ with regard 
 to the opinion of the world. 1 do not 
 despise, never can despise it ; and it is as 
 well perhaps such should be the case, for 
 Vinteret que Von accuse cle tous nos 
 crimes, merite souvent detre hue de nos 
 bonnes actions.'" 
 
 " You need not such a maxim," ob- 
 served Graham. 
 
 " I am glad you think so, and will 
 try to merit your good opinion." 
 
 " You merit the good opinion and 
 admiration of all who know you." 
 
 " My lord and master excepted," said 
 Caroline laughing. " Could not you 
 infuse a little of your fire into his frigid 
 bosom ? — you are silent : — nothing but I 
 
 suppose Theresa's spirit " 
 
 p 2
 
 316 THE WIFE 
 
 " Theresa ! — and what know you of 
 Theresa ?" 
 
 " Every thing ; but not till I had 
 been married four long years :— and now, 
 tell me, was she very lovely, very clever, 
 very agreeable ?" 
 
 Graham smiled at her earnestness. 
 " To answer your questions categori- 
 cally, she was very handsome; and 
 though lively enough when she liked, 
 yet in general she had a tender, languid, 
 thoughtful air. She was too fair a 
 beauty to please me; and there was 
 something too much of abandon in her 
 manner ; — and, if you will pardon the ob- 
 servation, I should have liked her better 
 as a mistress than a wife. Clever she 
 was not ; but the Italian air breathes 
 insincerity ; and I often suspected that 
 she had not escaped the infection, and so 
 far had ability ; even in her apparently 
 most unguarded moments, there was a
 
 AND FRIENDS. 317 
 
 caution about her I could not endure, 
 and prevented my thinking her agreea- 
 ble : others were of a different opinion." 
 
 " The Comte d'Harcourt, for instance ; 
 he must have been very much in love 
 to have accepted her hand in the manner 
 he did." 
 
 " He was very much in love, and 
 Theresa not less so." 
 
 " Heavens ! what do you mean ?" 
 
 " Why, I mean simply, that Miss 
 Greville was very well content to marry 
 M. d'Harcourt, who was the last man in 
 the world who would have united him- 
 self to a woman without her own free 
 will. Her father was equally incapable 
 of forcing his daughter's inclinations, and 
 he himself told me how expeditiously 
 the marriage was concluded, at the re- 
 quest of Theresa as well as of Harcourt." 
 
 " It appears, then, Lord Delamore's 
 love met no very adequate return."
 
 318 THE WIFE 
 
 " Miss Greville was attached to him : 
 her sending for him on her death-bed 
 proves it. She was one of those tender 
 beings with hearts easily lost, and easily 
 recovered. As long as Delamore had no 
 rivals, she was as fond as possible of him ; 
 but the instant she heard the voice of 
 love, or, I might say, only saw the look 
 of admiration from any other, then 
 would her heart begin to show symptoms 
 of rebellion, and most decidedly broke 
 from its loyalty, before so captivating a 
 conqueror as Harcourt. Had he not 
 neglected her after her marriage, I sus- 
 pect the Comtesse d'Harcourt would 
 never once have regretted not being 
 Countess of Delamore. It was a sick 
 room, and a negligent husband, which 
 brought to her mind the kind, devoted 
 being, whose affection she had probably 
 too little prized."
 
 
 AND FRIENDS. 319 
 
 " Do you know any thing of her 
 father, Mr. Greville, now ?" 
 
 " A report reached England a year or 
 two back, of his having been seen at 
 Petersburgh, looking very old, though 
 devoted to a French Opera-dancer; — 
 if he has ever written to me since our 
 parting at Paris, his letters have not 
 reached me ; a circumstance I do not 
 regret, as in the war in which we are at 
 present engaged, it is not an English- 
 man's place to be away from his country, 
 consulting more his pleasure, than his 
 honour, or the glory of his nation."
 
 320 THE WIFE 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 After the conversation which con- 
 cluded the last chapter, to receive Gra- 
 ham otherwise than with kindness, Ca- 
 roline thought to be out of the question ; 
 and such kindness was of a nature fa- 
 tally to endanger his peace. For the 
 present moment, however, they were 
 happy. Caroline again closed her eyes 
 to the danger of a friend so tender, yet 
 respectful ; so cheerful, yet so feeling. 
 Graham laughed at the idea of danger, 
 yet, in fact, was not unaware that the 
 passion he felt was warmer than that of 
 friendship ; for otherwise, why that emo-
 
 AND FRIENDS. 321 
 
 tion, which her presence excited, that 
 thrill in his veins created by her voice ? 
 Strong in his own, strong in her princi- 
 ples, heedless of what might ensue, he 
 boldly sought her society, as that of a 
 person he most admired, most delighted 
 in ; who again raised in his mind feelings 
 of happiness, which, since his unfortunate 
 marriage, he had never known. 
 
 Lord Delamore, occupied with hunt- 
 ing, farming, or lamenting her he had 
 lost, thought not of his wife, and there- 
 fore could not be jealous. He was, how- 
 ever, of far too high-minded a nature 
 to be easily susceptible of so mean a pas- 
 sion, had not his indifference been a very 
 effectual barrier to its intrusion ; which 
 indifference afforded, under the form of 
 pity, a far too plausible excuse for Gra- 
 ham to bestow attentions on Caroline; 
 who, in receiving them, knew she gave 
 pain to none, though pleasure to one. 
 p 5
 
 322 THE WIFE 
 
 Lady Juliana was neither high-minded 
 nor indifferent, and was moreover ex- 
 tremely prone to suspicion ; but her jea- 
 lous eyes had long been directed else- 
 where — to the neighbouring clergyman's 
 family, who have been already named. 
 All the attention which Graham paid 
 to Mr. Watkins, as a matter of course 
 from the situation he held, and as a 
 matter of feeling from the exemplary 
 manner he conducted himself in that 
 situation ; — all the assistance he rendered 
 him for the improvement of his parish, 
 and maintenance of his family, — for Wat- 
 kins, like many others of the clergy, was 
 richer in knowledge and progeny than 
 in worldly store, — was by Lady Juliana 
 construed as arising from the influence 
 of his handsome daughters. The mar- 
 riage and consequent removal of the 
 eldest, the one peculiarly dreaded, had a 
 little diminished her fears, and, in the
 
 AND FRIENDS. 323 
 
 vacancy of mind thereby occasioned, she 
 might have fixed her eyes upon Lady 
 Delamore, had not Lady St. John's ob- 
 servation, that not only Mary Watkins's 
 sleepy eyes were a hundred times more 
 dangerous than her sister Susan's bright 
 ones, but that little Hester promised to 
 be the greatest beauty that ever was 
 seen, again raised suspicion in Lady 
 Juliana's mind, and led back her thoughts 
 to the old subject of complaint. 
 
 Lady St. John was one of those people 
 w T ho discover more in half a glance, than 
 their less observant neighbours can do by 
 the full exertion of their eyes and ears in 
 the course of years. On the first coming 
 to High wood of the Delamores, she, in 
 her own mind, predicted that so fascinat- 
 ing a neighbour as Caroline would be- 
 come an object of interest to her brother. 
 Though not an immoral woman, and 
 perfectly correct in her own conduct,
 
 324* THE WIFE 
 
 there was a great mixture with regard 
 to bad and good in her ideas : what she 
 would not do herself, she would forgive 
 others for ; and when she liked any one, 
 all faults were pardoned — the person 
 exonerating the crime. Her brother 
 might act as he chose, — she would never 
 blame him; — and if he fell in love with 
 Lady Delamore, it would be a pity ; but, 
 poor fellow ! considering his odious wife, 
 it would be a very natural circumstance. 
 In Lady St. John's idea, love was not 
 that whirlwind of the passions described 
 by poets : she was too much of a phi- 
 losopher ever to have felt this : she 
 deemed the tender passion to be a very 
 obedient, circumspect feeling, better 
 known by the word flirtation. If, there- 
 fore, Mr. Graham flirted with Lady 
 Delamore, it would be unfortunate that 
 his wife's jealousy should interfere with
 
 AND FRIENDS. 325 
 
 so agreeable a pastime ; and accordingly, 
 it was not without design that she 
 brought forward the charms of the Wat- 
 kins family : — these were a kind of bug- 
 bear for her sister-in-law to feed her 
 alarms upon, and prevent her glances 
 from penetrating to Highwood. 
 
 The following year, when Lady St. 
 John visited Branches, she had every 
 reason to be satisfied with her pene- 
 tration, and also to be highly amused 
 (as a sportsman would express it, and 
 which I beg my female and gentle 
 readers to skip,) at Lady Juliana's still 
 hanging on the stale scent — the wicked 
 eyes of the Watkins girls. 
 
 " Charles is always going to the Par- 
 sonage: — I heard him three times last 
 week order his horse to meet him at Mr. 
 Watkins's paddock gate, and he is always 
 going that way with a book or a roll of
 
 326 THE WIFE 
 
 music in his hand:" — so Lady Juliana 
 complained. Lady St. John's smiles were 
 to herself. The shortest way to High- 
 wood was through Mr. Watkins's pad- 
 dock ! 
 
 Lady St. John's departure was rather 
 a relief to Caroline — her glances were 
 keen and distressing ; her ridicule of 
 Lady Juliana was not at all to Lady De- 
 lam ore's taste, when meant as encourage- 
 ment to her brother in his attentions to 
 herself, which it somewhat startled her 
 to find could be matter of observation 
 even to eyes as keen as Lady St. John's : 
 however, she comforted herself with the 
 thought, that but a very few gifted indi- 
 viduals shared such microscopic power 
 equally with her ladyship. Shortly after 
 her departure, Lucy Fitz-Edward arrived 
 at High wood : — the following was writ- 
 ten during the course of her visit.
 
 AND FRIENDS. 327 
 
 TO LADY MARY WALTERS. 
 " DEAREST AUNT, 
 
 "In my letter from this place, you 
 probably have looked, but looked in 
 vain, for a name which, as yet, I have 
 had discretion enough not to mention, 
 fearing to hazard an opinion on the 
 truth or falsehood of surmises, which 
 to you, and you alone, I ventured to 
 breathe, and which I would to Hea- 
 ven I could pronounce an idle phantom 
 of the brain. Such, alas ! is not the case ; 
 and this Graham, much as T feared before 
 I knew him, is, now I am acquainted 
 with him, a far more dangerous character 
 than I expected. 
 
 " But you must not mistake me ; it is 
 not his vices I dread, for from them Ca- 
 roline can have no fear: it is from his 
 virtues. He is too amiable and too agree-
 
 328 THE WIFE 
 
 ble, for even the most cold-hearted not 
 to be drawn towards him ; and Caroline 
 is not cold-hearted. The greatest friend- 
 ship exists between them, unmixed with 
 any thing of coquetry or flirtation, but a 
 simple, plain, undisguised feeling, carried 
 on with all good faith, sincerity, open- 
 ness, and propriety, which would be as 
 harmless as that of children, were they 
 not both unhappy in marriage. Thence 
 come all my shudderings and fears : 
 it is that which gives a romantic air to 
 their friendship, which they neither 
 attempt to discourage or command. 
 
 * As you wished to have a very par- 
 ticular account of Lady Juliana, I will 
 describe the first visit she paid here after 
 my arrival, and which indeed is the only 
 time I have seen her ; for she has not 
 left the house since, being one of those 
 people who, having little to do, make 
 their health their principal occupation
 
 AND FRIENDS. 329 
 
 and interest. Her society cannot be 
 accounted a loss. Caroline had said so 
 little of either of her neighbours, that I 
 was left entirely to form my own judg- 
 ment ; and accordingly, on their being 
 announced at dinner the second day after 
 my arrival, I turned my eyes most eager- 
 ly to the door. In, accordingly, walked 
 Lady Juliana, followed by Mr. Graham. 
 She is large and tall, rajther a handsome 
 face, without a particularly pleasing coun- 
 tenance. I know you do not like to 
 have dress brought forward as an argu- 
 ment for or against any one, and I be- 
 lieve you are right, as a general rule; 
 yet, in this particular case, I must venture 
 to describe that of Lady Juliana. It was 
 in a vulgar style, too short and too scan- 
 ty ; and her very ample bosom was far 
 too much exposed to be pleasing to my 
 eye, however covered with jewels and 
 chains of gold ; particularly as her situa-
 
 330 THE WIFE 
 
 tion was such as, I suppose, would render 
 her appearance more considerable than 
 customary. Of this situation, but little 
 doubt could exist ; for she complained so 
 bitterly of the roughness of the road 
 over which she had just travelled, that 
 I saw a smile upon almost every counte- 
 nance present, excepting Mr. Graham's, 
 who looked more inclined to groan. 
 After a short pause, she desired her hus- 
 band to give her her salts ; and upon his 
 saying that he had not got them, she put 
 on an air of displeasure, and murmured : 
 — ' How cruel ! you know I cannot exist 
 without them. 5 Mr. Graham was look- 
 ing at a paragraph, which Lord Dela- 
 more had given him to read in the news- 
 paper, and did not attend to her remarks, 
 which produced a repetition of them, in 
 too audible a tone to be unheeded ; and 
 he begged her to send for them from 
 home, if she wanted them. No answer
 
 AND FRIENDS. 331 
 
 was vouchsafed, and Mr. Graham re- 
 sumed his newspaper. Lady Juliana then 
 turned to a lady who was sitting by 
 her, and asked her if she admired the 
 curtains ? The lady, with all due po- 
 liteness, pronounced them beautiful. 
 ' Do you ?' said Lady Juliana ; ' I don't, 
 I hate red ; when I first married, the 
 furniture of my bed-chamber at Branches 
 was red. I was miserable when I saw 
 the room appointed for me, and insisted 
 upon having another prepared for me ; 
 but somehow my orders were not at- 
 tended to; and in the room I was obliged 
 to sleep, till the arrival of an upholsterer 
 from London, who altered all the hang- 
 ings to pink : — the furniture, however, 
 is not entirely pink ; the bed-curtains are 
 lined with yellow.' 
 
 <•' This important fact having brought 
 Lady Juliana's speech to a close, Caroline 
 thought it time to interfere, and inquired
 
 332 THE WIFE 
 
 if she had had a pleasant dinner, at some 
 place which she named. ' Oh dear, no, 
 not at all. — I declare, Mr. Dorien is the 
 stupidest man in the world. Imagine 
 his taking a little dowager, Lady Foster, 
 some Lord Foster's wife, into dinner 
 before me ! To be sure, Mrs. Dorien was 
 very much shocked, and made a thou- 
 sand apologies after dinner was over. 
 But what good does that do me ? I and 
 this little Lady Foster may never again 
 be in company together, whilst before 
 fourteen persons . . . . ' Here she was 
 suddenly interrupted : — Mr. Graham had 
 been evidently suffering torture at every 
 word which proceeded out of the mouth 
 of his lady ; and, unable to endure more, 
 seized the poker to mend the fire. So 
 actively did he set to work, that he 
 knocked down the shovel and tongs ; in 
 attempting to reinstate which, he trod 
 on the foot of a fat spaniel asleep on the
 
 AND PRIENDS. 333 
 
 rug :— the dog barked, Caroline laughed, 
 Graham apologized, Lady Juliana scold- 
 ed, — all was noise and confusion during 
 the short time which intervened before 
 dinner was announced ; and the voice of 
 Lady Juliana was only heard in the 
 general chorus. 
 
 „ " When seated at table, I was far re- 
 moved from her ladyship's neighbour- 
 hood. After dinner we were thrown 
 together, every body else being either 
 engaged at cards, or assembled round 
 the piano-forte, where Caroline and 
 Mr. Graham were singing. After some 
 trifling discourse, Lady Juliana sudden- 
 ly asked me if I thought Lady Delamore 
 handsome ? Not a little surprised at the 
 question, I answered, * Particularly so.' 
 6 Do you ?' said she ; * well, I do not ; I 
 never think any body good-looking, 
 who is not of a certain height and size. 
 To be sure, she made a great marriage —
 
 334 THE WIFE 
 
 without sixpence, to marry an Earl — 
 such a little woman !' — I was nearly 
 laughing, but replied, — ' She might have 
 made a greater, however ; for Lord Dor- 
 set, who proposed to her, is heir apparent 
 to a Marquisate.' — ' Lord Dorset; that is 
 the man she is always flirting with in 
 town.' I felt angry, and in answer told 
 her, 1 was surprised she could listen to so 
 gossiping a report, of which her know- 
 ledge of Lady Delamore ought to con- 
 vince her of the injustice. ' It was Mrs. 
 Bennet told me, and thus accounted for 
 Lord Delamore's gravity.' I lifted up 
 my eyes with astonishment; but, too 
 provoked to answer her, walked away 
 to the piano-forte. 
 
 " Having given you, in farming 
 phrase, a fair sample of my lady, I shall 
 turn to a very different person. 
 
 " Mr. Graham never dines out with- 
 out Lady Juliana, who of late, not being
 
 AND FRIENDS. 335 
 
 in particular good health, usually prefers 
 remaining at home ; but her husband 
 contrives to make up for the privation, 
 by frequent morning visits, and some 
 evening ones after Lady Juliana is re- 
 tired to rest ; for so large a lady, I sup- 
 pose, requires a proportionate quantity 
 of repose, and her regular quantum of 
 bed is therefore twelve hours, which 
 taste is however fortunate, for her hus- 
 band, by that means, usually on a fine 
 night, canters his pony up to High- 
 wood, when his lady retires to her 
 darling pillow. His conversation is de- 
 lightful ; so easy, so unassuming, so cheer- 
 ful ; yet not of such a kind as to put to 
 flight all serious discourse : and then he 
 has seen so much of the world, of all 
 characters and societies ; and he has so 
 much information on all subjects, that 
 dull indeed must be the person who 
 found not his company agreeable. Mr.
 
 336 THE WIFE 
 
 Hervey said of him the other day, in 
 the words of Madame de Sevigne, when 
 describing her son — 'II prend V esprit 
 des lieux ou il est, et ne transporte de la 
 cour et de la guerre dans cette solitude 
 que ce qu'il en faut pour la conversa- 
 tion.' 
 
 " Late in the afternoon he often 
 appears at Highwood, and with Caro- 
 line and myself proses over the fire till 
 dark; an event which brings Lord 
 Delamore home, sends us to dress, and 
 Graham to his own house, whence how- 
 ever he generally emerges in the even- 
 ing. 
 
 " Mr. Markham, a neighbouring 
 clergyman, who is very much here, 
 plays at chess with Lord Delamore: 
 whilst they are so engaged, Mr. Graham 
 and Caroline sing duets with such per- 
 severance, that I sometimes expect a 
 summons from Lady Juliana to recall
 
 AND FRIENDS. 337 
 
 her lord home ; and perhaps it would be 
 as well if she did ; for then, and then 
 only, do I see, that in Mr. Graham's 
 manner (though I hate myself for the 
 thought,) there is more of the lover than 
 of the friend. Perhaps it is prudery that 
 raises the idea in my mind, or ignorance : 
 from not being a vocal performer, I know 
 not the tenderness which singing re- 
 quires ; but yet I heard Mr. Graham 
 
 and Miss D sing one of the same 
 
 airs together ; she has taste and science : 
 but how different was the result ! he 
 sang the notes as before ; but the life, the 
 soul, had fled. 
 
 " Mr. Markham is a shrewd, observing 
 man, and his eyes are more frequently 
 drawn from the chess-board to the piano- 
 forte, than I like ; it is not with the 
 eyes that music's charms are appreciated ; 
 and as to the ears, I have discovered that 
 Mr. Mi does not know one air from the 
 
 VOL. i. Q
 
 THE WIFE 
 
 other. At supper the other night, after 
 Graham had departed, he turned to Caro- 
 line, and fixing his little grey eyes on 
 her face, said,—' Your Ladyship and Mr. 
 Graham indulged us with some charm- 
 ing music to-night ; beautiful words 
 indeed ; the poetry is every thing in 
 music ; and Mr. Graham pronounces 
 Italian admirably, so distinct, with such 
 expression ! Guarini and Metastasio 
 seemed to be your favourites this even- 
 ing; and Mr. Graham did full justice to 
 the lines addressed by the Poet to his 
 beloved Nice : 
 
 1 O Dio ! chi sa fra tanti 
 Teneri omaggi e pianti 
 Oh Dio ! chi sa se mai 
 Ti sovverai di me !' 
 
 " There was a somewhat in the way in 
 which these lines were repeated which 
 produced a smile from Lord Delamore's 
 usually serious countenance ; Caroline
 
 AND FRIENDS. 339 
 
 tried to do the same, but blushed spite 
 of herself; I sighed, and was happy to 
 think that Mr. Graham had been absent 
 in the North when Lord Dorset made a 
 visit here a few weeks back. Jealousy 
 is a great quickener of the faculties, 
 and his lordship, though not naturally 
 very penetrating, might have had eyes 
 for what, rather than observe it, I 
 often wish myself blind, deaf, or in- 
 different, 
 
 " We dine to-day at Branches : I shall 
 conclude my letter on my return. 
 
 u Our dinner was very pleasant, and 
 introduced me to three little beings 
 of whom I had only before heard by 
 report— the young Graham children. 
 When I saw the lovely creatures hang- 
 ing round their father's neck, so capable 
 of loving and being loved, I did not 
 think him so great an object of compas- 
 sion as I had heretofore done. The 
 U 2
 
 340 THE WIFE 
 
 eldest boy, they say, is very like his 
 grandfather Lord Howard ; and I have 
 also heard that that nobleman's death af- 
 fected Lady Juliana but slightly, whilst 
 his son-in-law, for a long while, deplored 
 feelingly his loss ; and it was at his insti- 
 gation that an annuity settled upon two 
 maiden aunts was more than doubled, 
 contrary to Lady Juliana's wishes. 
 
 " Lady Juliana talks of being con- 
 fined in London. I should not be sorry 
 if she puts in execution her intentions— 
 it will remove Graham for the time from 
 the neighbourhood of High wood. 
 My dear Aunt, 
 &c. &c. &c. 
 
 Lucy Fitz-Edward." 
 
 On the evening before Miss Fitz- 
 Edward left Highwood, she accompa- 
 nied her cousin into her dressing-room 
 when they retired to rest, not for the
 
 AND FRIENDS. 341 
 
 purpose, as may be supposed, of giving 
 sage advice, but for saying those few 
 more last words, which between intimate 
 friends are always to be said, however 
 much they have lately seen of each 
 other. Lucy dared not utter the name 
 of Graham, however she might desire it. 
 It was, however, difficult to avoid doing 
 so ; and therefore, after a little talk, she 
 rose to depart. 
 
 "Do not run away so soon," said 
 Caroline, affectionately putting her arm 
 round her neck ; " I have not said one 
 half of what I want to say to you — many 
 a future night you may make up for 
 your curtailed slumbers on this. You 
 will not bring very dissipated habits to 
 alarm Lady Mary with on your return : 
 let me see, — but twice have we had any 
 thing in the shape of a party in the 
 house, and not once any thing in the 
 shape of a lover. Well, I wish Mr.
 
 3421 THE WIFE 
 
 Graham was not married, and he would 
 do famously." 
 
 " To see you in such health and spirits 
 is worth twenty lovers, so different from 
 
 what you were " 
 
 " In London, you mean ?" 
 " No, at Delamore Castle, when I 
 visited you after your marriage." 
 
 " I had reason then, for I was out of 
 health, and, it matters not acknowledg- 
 ing it, disappointed : I was to blame, 
 nevertheless ; for, until Lord and Lady 
 Delamore's death, I had no real cause for 
 sorrow. Time, however, has reconciled 
 me to a lot which, at one moment, I 
 thought the most deplorable possible." 
 
 Whether just or not, Lucy did not 
 wish to encourage her cousin in useless 
 repinings, and answered laughingly — 
 
 " Very deplorable, truly ! — Young, 
 rich, handsome, a countess, married to a 
 good-looking man, of unexceptionable
 
 AND FRIENDS. 343 
 
 character, whom you preferred, and the 
 conduct and disposition of whom could 
 never give you a moment's uneasiness." 
 
 *' Or a moment's pleasure. However, 
 I do not mean to complain ; I married 
 Lord Delamore with my eyes open; I 
 might have done worse." 
 
 " Much, much worse : you might 
 have married a man of inferior under- 
 standing, whom you could not respect ; 
 how sad then would have been your 
 fate !" 
 
 " As to that, I do not think it is your 
 wise men that make the best husbands : 
 a fool might be very amusing." 
 
 " But not according to your taste, 
 Caroline ; any more" — Lucy added, after 
 a pause — " than Mr. Graham derives 
 satisfaction from Lady Juliana's follies." 
 
 " Lady Juliana loves," answered Caro- 
 line with emphasis ; " and, when that is 
 the case, much may be forgiven. When
 
 344 THE WIFE 
 
 you marry, Lucy, take care that your 
 husband has a heart." 
 
 " If ever I do, I will try to ascertain 
 the fact." 
 
 " If ever you do ? And why that rf\ 
 Miss Lucy ?" 
 
 " Why, in England, unmarried women 
 are not so rare, that there would be any 
 thing extraordinary in my forming one 
 of the sisterhood." 
 
 " The sisterhood are not composed of 
 women like you." 
 
 " You are partial, I know," said Lucy ; 
 " many, with far better pretensions than 
 myself, in every respect, are not married, 
 or likely to be so. The older we grow, 
 the more fastidious do we become ; and 
 are most difficult to please, just at the mo- 
 ment when prudence should make one ac- 
 cept any offer one can get : the few civil 
 words which win the heart at seventeen, 
 are quite unheeded at seven-and-twenty."
 
 AND FKIENDS. 345 
 
 " Well, you are not seven - and- 
 twenty." 
 
 " But I have seen so much of the 
 world, that I feel as if I were seven- 
 and-forty." 
 
 " When you are, I will give you leave 
 to be cruel ; till then, I will have you 
 do all the execution your eyes are 
 capable of." 
 
 Lucy smiled, and promised obedience. 
 
 Q 5
 
 346 THE WIFE 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Lady Juliana's caprices were not of 
 such rare occurrence, that her husband 
 was much surprised at her threat of 
 being confined in London. He felt, 
 however, some astonishment, and rather 
 more than astonishment, sorrow, as the 
 time drew nearer, and Lady Juliana's 
 intentions were unaltered. At her de- 
 sire, he wrote to inquire for a house, 
 secretly hoping that none would be pro- 
 cured answering to the florid description 
 she required. 
 
 In London, however, every thing may 
 be had for money ; a house was found, a
 
 AND FRIENDS. 347 
 
 medical man engaged, and, to the horror 
 of Mr. Graham, preparations were ac- 
 tually begun for their departure. Graham 
 dared not remonstrate, for fear of betray- 
 ing how dear to him the neighbourhood 
 of Branches had become, and how pain- 
 ful to his feeling the quitting, two 
 months earlier than was usual, her with 
 whom alone he seemed to live. One or 
 two delays did occur: two or three petty 
 distresses, such as at another time would 
 have fretted Lady Juliana into a nervous 
 fever, now were treated with the most 
 philosophical composure; and at length 
 the day was fixed for their departure. 
 
 Had it been for his execution, Graham 
 could not have looked forward to it with 
 greater dismay : he now opened his eyes 
 to the true state of his feelings. It was 
 impossible for him any longer to deceive 
 himself; the truth, the melancholy 
 truth, was disclosed, and brought with
 
 348 THE WIFE 
 
 it all the misery which it could be sup- 
 posed possible for a high-minded man to 
 feel, whose every action and thought 
 had ever been guided by an innate sense 
 of honour and rectitude, from which 
 no temptation could allure him; and 
 who, having escaped the world's fiery 
 ordeal, found in retirement, when appa- 
 rently sheltered from the storm, a dan- 
 ger too fatal to his peace, perhaps to his 
 honour ! 
 
 It was a brilliant morning, early in 
 March, when Graham conducted his lady 
 to the carriage which awaited to convey 
 her to a very different scene from that 
 she was quitting. All nature smiled, — 
 the birds, the flowers, all spoke of opening 
 joys and renovated life ; but they spoke 
 in vain to one who had never viewed 
 the lovely face of nature but with indif- 
 ference ; to whom the song of birds, and 
 hues of flowers, were in vain created, as
 
 AND FRIENDS. 349 
 
 thbugh blindness and deafness had been 
 her portion. She passed on complaining 
 of some inattention in her maid, and 
 entered her carriage to have her anger 
 still more aroused by the packages 
 within. 
 
 Graham was to follow Lady Juliana 
 in a few days ; and amidst the murmurs 
 created by an extra bandbox, he was 
 spared, if such were intended him, those 
 expressions of tenderness which often 
 burst from the lips of woman, in part- 
 ing, for however short a time, with him 
 she loves. The signal for departure was 
 given, the impatient riders touched their 
 no less impatient steeds, and the whole 
 equipage vanished from sight. Lady 
 Juliana's last words were lost in the 
 air — they were more in anger than in sor- 
 row. Little did Graham imagine, as the 
 querulous note died on his ear, that it 
 was the last sound of his wife's voice he
 
 350 THE WIFE 
 
 should ever hear — that they had parted 
 for ever ! 
 
 Mr. Graham had meditated of late 
 upon the feasibility of his leaving Eng- 
 land for a few years ; and to ruminate 
 on this scheme, he turned from his 
 wife's carriage into the deep shade of 
 an evergreen walk. 
 
 " Then," exclaimed Graham, as he 
 wandered on, " I shall be spared the 
 horrible conflict between love and duty, 
 which rages within me ; and if I be 
 blamed for abandoning my wife, let it be 
 also known that I shall leave the only 
 being I love, or ever can love ; without 
 whom existence is a blank, with whom 
 a crime. — Oh ! my father, what have I 
 not sacrificed to thee! domestic happi- 
 ness—love ! Alas ! had I ever felt the 
 reality of that passion, I had never 
 dared take a woman to my arms, then 
 indifferent, now Had such a
 
 AND FRIENDS. 351 
 
 woman as Caroline crossed my path, had 
 my warmest fancy pictured the loving 
 or being loved by such as her, I would 
 have suffered the extreme of poverty, 
 I would have worked with my hands 
 for bread, before I would have relin- 
 quished the prospect of the greatest 
 good the world can give. And for what 
 have I lost it ?— for wealth w r hich I de- 
 spise." 
 
 At that moment a voice, of which 
 Graham was beginning to abhor the 
 sound, was heard, inquiring for him; 
 and in another moment Lord Dela- 
 more appeared. 
 
 " Muttering your anguish to the 
 winds of heaven at your lady's depar- 
 ture ; for, 1 am sure I heard your voice, 
 and did not dream to find you alone." 
 
 " You may have heard my voice, but 
 the sense of my speech you are some- 
 what deficient in ; you and I, Delamore,
 
 352 THE WIFE 
 
 are not very likely to break our hearts 
 at parting with our wives for a few 
 days," answered Graham, rather petu- 
 lantly. 
 
 " Not precisely break our hearts, but 
 custom does a great deal; what one is 
 habituated to see one regrets, however 
 unworthy such feeling ; not that I mean 
 to talk of Lady Juliana in such a light." 
 
 " Or Lady Delamore either, it is to 
 be hoped," said Graham, contracting his 
 brows. 
 
 " Oh, no ! Caroline is very well ; but, 
 Graham, what ails you ? are you ill ? 
 When you dine with us to-day, I shall 
 make Caroline prescribe for you ; she 
 is supposed to kill or cure half the 
 parish." 
 
 " She cannot cure me," sighed Gra- 
 ham. 
 
 " Oh, I am not serious ; I have as 
 great a horror of female doctoring as
 
 AND FRIENDS. 353 
 
 you can have; but, however, I want 
 you to be quite well the day after to- 
 morrow, for Ongley has just been with 
 me, and lie says the hounds meet at 
 Badby, on purpose to secure a good 
 run for you, the last time of your being 
 out this season." 
 
 Out of humour with himself and 
 every thing else, Graham would gladly 
 have dispensed with a mark of atten- 
 tion which constrained him to join in 
 an amusement, which, however usually 
 delightful to him, he now felt totally 
 out of spirits for : — but he had no ex- 
 cuse to give for non-attendance, and 
 was obliged, therefore, to mutter a few 
 words of satisfaction at the arrange- 
 ment. 
 
 Late in the afternoon of the follow- 
 ing day, Graham found himself oppo- 
 site the house at Highwood, and in a 
 few minutes more at the door of the
 
 354 THE WIFE 
 
 apartment in which Caroline spent her 
 mornings ; another moment, and he was 
 in her presence. 
 
 Lady Delamore was alone, and her 
 occupation seemed to have been writing ; 
 but her thoughts had flown far away 
 from her employment, her pen was in 
 her hand, but her eyes were raised, and 
 a tear still hung on their long lashes. " I 
 was just thinking of you," she said, ex- 
 tending her hand to Graham. 
 
 " Tell me in what manner ?" inquired 
 he, drawing a chair to her side. 
 
 " Entirely and undividedly you were 
 not the object of my thoughts. I was 
 considering how little favourable an 
 abode this huge world of ours is, for the 
 growth and cultivation of friendship. 
 Lovers meet and part no more, and per- 
 haps are not the better for their good for- 
 tune : but the world and adverse fate are 
 for ever at variance with simple friend-
 
 AND FRIENDS. 355 
 
 ship : hardly is it formed, ere it withers, 
 and perhaps dies. Need I explain to 
 you, how you were connected with such 
 thoughts? I have been so long accus- 
 tomed to your society — so long used to 
 open my heart to you, or what is more 
 delightful, to have its secrets interpreted 
 without the trouble of disclosure, that I 
 know not how I shall reconcile myself to 
 the change your absence will make ; an 
 absence which appears, in looking for- 
 ward to it, as if it were to last for ever." 
 
 " And if it were for ever ?" sighed 
 Graham. 
 
 " Oh, Heaven forbid !" exclaimed Ca- 
 roline earnestly. 
 
 f I have some thoughts of quitting 
 Branches," continued Graham in a 
 hurried voice. Caroline regarded him 
 with surprise. He arose, and after 
 taking one or two hasty turns in the 
 room, resumed his seat, and fixing his
 
 356 THE WIFE 
 
 eyes mournfully on Lady Delamore's 
 face — " I am miserable, wretched ; I am 
 resolved to leave England." 
 
 " Something has strangely disordered 
 you this morning," said Caroline gently. 
 " Leave England, indeed ! what would 
 Lady Juliana and the children think 
 of becoming wanderers on the face of 
 the earth ?" 
 
 " I shall go alone." 
 
 " Alone ! Leave Lady Juliana, and 
 your dear affectionate children !" 
 
 " As to Lady Juliana, she will have 
 her couch and her wealth to console her 
 for my loss ; the children will only act 
 like the rest of the world, —forget me 
 when no longer present." 
 
 " Why, you have assuredly taken a 
 lesson of Lord Delamore this morning ; 
 that last speech was precisely in his 
 style."
 
 AND FRIENDS. 357 
 
 " I wish Delamore would give me a 
 lesson in one respect." 
 " In what, pray ?" 
 " In his indifference to you." 
 Caroline started, and turning pale as 
 death, remained silent. 
 
 " I suppose," said Graham, after a 
 pause, " I have offended you irrevocably; 
 nevertheless, I am glad I have avowed 
 my feelings. Though now you may be 
 angry, yet in time to come, you may pity 
 me. I love you, Caroline ; it is that which 
 makes me miserable ; it is that which 
 will banish me from England. You need 
 not upbraid me ; I know all you would 
 say : I know that the passion I feel for 
 you is contrary to the laws of God and 
 man, — that you are Delam ore's wife, — 
 that I am his friend ; and considering me 
 as such, you despise me for allowing 
 warmer sentiments to intrude. This you
 
 358 THE WIFE 
 
 would tell me : answer me, I cannot 
 bear your silence." 
 
 Caroline trembled. " How can I an- 
 swer you ? I cannot upbraid you. — Was 
 not our friendship sufficient for happi- 
 ness ? why would you allow a feeling to 
 enter which is criminal ?" 
 
 " Because," exclaimed Graham wildly, 
 " my feelings and yours are very differ- 
 ent : women are gentle, constant, tender, 
 but not passionate; they are born for 
 friendship, — men exist for love." 
 
 " For Heaven's sake !" said Caroline, 
 the tears in her eyes, " do not reproach 
 me for a coldness which, if it were other- 
 wise, would render me unworthy in my 
 own eyes, and in every one's else." 
 
 " Not in every one's else ; not in mine, 
 Caroline." 
 
 " Mr. Graham, you do not, cannot 
 mean what you say ?"
 
 AND FRIENDS. 
 
 Graham blushed. " I will not add 
 duplicity to my other faults ; the words 
 I have uttered are truly the thoughts of 
 my heart — they are said: as it is the last 
 time we may ever meet, perhaps you 
 will forgive them ; and when my deep 
 offence is softened by time and absence, 
 you may then pity yoxw friend" 
 
 " What can you expect from me ?" 
 exclaimed Caroline, the colour rising to 
 her face. " Have I not degraded myself 
 sufficiently in your eyes ? — have I not 
 listened to a declaration which no mar- 
 ried woman ought to listen to ? Can it 
 be your desire that I should have greater 
 cause for self-reproach?" 
 
 " Self-satisfaction I would rather have 
 you feel;" and Graham caught Lady 
 Delamore's hand in his. " Yes, I would 
 have you reflect, when I am far away, 
 that you granted me your pity, and sof-
 
 560 THE WIFE 
 
 toned my banishment by the knowledge 
 that I was, spite of all that prudery 
 could urge, not indifferent to vou." 
 
 M Leave me, Mr, Graham, leave me, 
 1 implore." 
 
 w And will you not pronounce the 
 little sentence I ask you? and must 1 add 
 your unkindness to my other sorrows ? 
 What, in tears? Oh, Lady Delamore, 
 forgive my impetuosity ; pardon me, I 
 beff, I beseech vou : say vou forgive 
 mo." 
 
 " On one condition,"" said Caroline 
 faintly— *• that if you leave England, you 
 take Lady Juliana with you." 
 
 * For not being rifted with the in- 
 sensibility of a stoic. I am willing to 
 submit to penance, not martyrdom." 
 answered Graham haughtily, 
 
 w Oh ! Graham," said Caroline earn- 
 estly, w she must, she ought to go with 
 you, — for my sake, I implore it. If I
 
 AND FBIENDS. 361 
 
 were ever to see the slightest expression 
 of sorrow on her countenance ; if I ever 
 were to hear the most distant report that 
 she lamented your absence,— and how 
 could she do otherwise ? — never, oh ! 
 never could I forgive myself for being 
 the fatal cause of your disunion," 
 
 " Then you would be more indulgent 
 to her feelings than to mine ; but do not, 
 Caroline, render the task I have to per- 
 form more difficult of accomplishment 
 than it is already. I shall leave Eng- 
 land, perhaps Europe, for ever ; or until 
 such a time as age shall have cooled the 
 fire now raging in my veins — when I 
 may meet Delamore without a blush, 
 yourself without feeling; which make 
 me forget honour, duty, all that renders 
 a man noble and estimable upon earth." 
 
 Graham covered his face with his 
 hands, to conceal the emotion he could 
 not command. Caroline, thunderstruck 
 
 VOL. i. it
 
 $62 THE WIFE AND FltlENDS. 
 
 at his declaration, afflicted at his depar- 
 ture, and dismayed at his vehemence, 
 remained motionless. She did not weep ; 
 she attempted to speak, —her words died 
 on her lips, — a faint giddiness came over 
 her. Graham observed the death-like 
 paleness of her countenance ; he rushed 
 to her support; he held her in his 
 arms ; their cheeks met for a moment ; 
 the next she had rushed from the apart- 
 ment, and Graham had quitted the 
 house. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 LONDON : 
 PRINTED BY SA31UEL EENTLEY, 
 
 Dorset Street, Fleet Street.