L I B HARY OF THE UNIVERSITY Of ILLI NOI5 623 Wllm v.l \ (K fc. o>*^ Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2010 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign http://www.archive.org/details/misrepresentatio01wadd MISREPRESENTATION OR SCENES IN REAL LIFE. ONE OF A SERIES OF TALES ON THE PASSIONS. A l'egro faneiul porgiamo aspersi Di soave licor gli orli del vaso, Succhi amari ingannato intanto ei lieve, E da l'inganno suo, vita riceve. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. L LONDON SAUNDERS & OTLEY, CONDUIT STREET. 1838. T. C. Savill, Printer, 107, St. Martin's Lane, Charing Cross. MISREPRESENTATION; OR, SCENES IN REAL LIFE. CHAPTER I. " No, Carry, I will never marry a man that I do not prefer to all others ; it matters not what advantages of wealth or station he may hap- pen to possess. Other girls may marry from ambition, and the wish to gain an establishment ; but / will never give my hand without my heart : so do not urge me, Carry." " But have you well considered all the con- sequences of this determination ? — General Moubray's displeasure? Mr. Dyneley's disap- pointment V VOL. I. B 2 MISREPRESENTATION; OR, 6t I have, indeed, thought of all. I am sorry for Mr. Dyneley, and, still more, that I cannot gratify my uncle ; but he loves me too well to desire a sacrifice which must involve my future happiness. And, entre nous, Carry, although I dare say I am a very charming person, Mr. Dyneley's refusal will not break his heart." " Still, he admires you very much." " Oh ! yes, I know he is devotedly in love with me, or Eldersleigh." " But General Moubray has evidently set his heart upon the marriage ; and his wishes ° " Shall be laws to me on every other point ; but on this I must, — shall, — and will, consult my own." And, while Miss Moubray is trying to couch a decided refusal in such language as might render it as little unpalatable as possible, it may not be amiss to give our readers some par- ticulars concerning this very resolute young lady. But we must go back a little. A story is always best when it begins at the beginning. SCENES IN REAL LIFE. 3 First, however, I would forewarn all who may honour these pages with a perusal, what they may expect to find therein. This little work was written principally for my amusement, and the narrative it embodies is nothing more than a description of common-place scenes and every-day occurrences. Wit I have none ; my descriptive powers are not worth a pin ; and to novelty I lay no claim. In truth, new things are rarities in these our days. All, therefore, who love startling incidents, or racy dialogue, or deep-impassioned scenes, will harldly relish this poor work of mine. My aim has simply been to delineate character and portray feeling; to make my scenes and actors natural; my story possible. Whether successfully or not, you, reader, must determine. The hero of my narrative is a man of rugged temper, but soft affections; not a marvellous compound of every perfection, — of body and mind ; — one who towers above his species, bends the most adverse circumstances to his b2 4 misrepresentation; or, will, and builds up a very unaccountable for- tune in an equally unaccountable manner; nor is he a mere tetotum, moving in obedience to every turn and twist, and, consequently, falling into a variety of scrapes and mischances from which the slightest exercise of common sense or judgment would have saved him; and my heroine ; but it was of her I was about to speak. Ellen and Frances Hutton were cousins, and, in some respects, a great similarity existed between them ; for both were young, both handsome, both accomplished ; but here the resemblance ended. Ellen, the portionless daughter of a naval officer, was mild, gentle, and affectionate ; while in Frances, the heiress of a rich city banker, were observed those failings which are sometimes, un- happily, the accompaniments of wealth, — she was selfish and overbearing. At twenty, Ellen married a clergyman, with a moderate living and slender private fortune ; at two-and-thirty, Frances bestowed herself and SCENES IN REAL LIFE. 5 her one hundred thousand pounds upon Lord Selwood, the only son of an impoverished noble- man. Ellen's married life was one of happiness — not unalloyed happiness, nor rapture, nor bliss, but of sober, sensible enjoyment. And when, at the end of fourteen years, Mrs Moubray found her- self on the point of losing him from whom her happiness had been derived, her grief was deep and unaffected. " Ellen," said her dying hus- band, as he fondly took her hand, " we must part. Nay, grieve not, dearest, our separation is but for a season ; we shall meet again, — meet, where there is neither sorrow nor sighing." " Oh ! my dear Frederic, we have been so happy ; I cannot, will not, survive M " Hush, Ellen, hush ; remember whose is the rod, and who has appointed it ; for my sake, for Cecil's sake, restrain your grief." " What will become of her, of both of us, when you are gone ? Frederic, Frederic, do not leave us." 6 MISREPRESENTATION; OR, " Alas ! my Ellen, if you knew how much this costs me; how, for your sakes, my spirit cleaves to earth !" " But is there no hope ? Oh, say not so; let us have fresh advice ; something may be thought of; some new mode of treatment may restore you. Yes, yes," she cried, in all the agony of grief, ll I know, I feel, there is yet hope." " No, dearest, no ; my hours are numbered ; the hand of death is on me, and my strength fails rapidly." He gasped for breath ; then, in a faint, low tone, murmured, " My brother ; oh, Ellen, why is he not here ? I would have been by his death -bed." " Dearest Frederic, there has not been time ; it is impossible General Moubray can be here before to-morrow. Will you not try and sleep V " To-morrow, — to-morrow," he replied ; " I shall not live to see to-morrow. And yet, if it were possible, I fain would see him once again. No, no, it may not be . Ellen, my love, you then must give him my dying words, my last SCENES IN REAL LIFE. 7 farewell. Tell him, that with my latest breath I left my Cecil to his charge; and you, too, Ellen, you must look to him." There was a short pause, a convulsive struggle, and then the breath came short and quick; the eye was glazed ; the lips moved slightly, but uttered no- thing; and ere the morrow's sun awakened into life the slumbering universe, and sent man forth on his daily task of sorrow and of toil, Ellen was a widow, and her child an orphan. General Moubray did not refuse the trust thus solemnly bequeathed ; for though an eccen- tric and very worldly-minded man, he had loved his brother. He was childless, too; and the family estate would have descended to Cecil had not the entail been cut off some years pre- viously. In announcing, therefore, his intention of making Cecil his heir, General Moubray did little more than an act of justice; and, when he allotted a considerable sum for her maintenance, and expressed his wish that her education should 8 misrepresentation; or, be commensurate with her future inheritance, perhaps he listened rather to ambition than affection. Before we proceed further, one word, reader, respecting my heroine's nom de bapteme, which, as you observe, and I know, is not feminine ^nevertheless, it had Been borne by all the members of the Moubray family, male or female, since the days of Cecil, fourth Lord Elderslei'j;h ; who, having taken the weaker side in a rebellion, was condemned to death for high treason, and his forfeited estate bestowed on a more loyal branch of the family, — Sir Reginald de Moubray. Now, the old Baron being rather choleric, and not altogether admiring this disposition of himself and lands, is said to have exclaimed against the injustice of a sentence which de- prived his only son and namesake of his right- ful patrimony, and to have warned his kins- man, that should any but Cecil Moubray dare to appropriate to himself the lands of Elders- lei gh, his angry spirit would dispute the posses- SCENES IN REAL LIFE. 9 sion with the intruder; and Sir Reginald, not considering a visit from the old Baron a desir- able event, immediately christened his youngest child by the name thus rendered indispensable to the owner of the property, which was made over to him ; and what had its origin in superstition, being afterwards sanctioned by custom, on the demise of a little boy, two years her senior, it was decreed that the subject of these memoirs should in future be called by her second Christian name, as she was now the presumed heiress of the property. In his youth General Moubray had been wild and extravagant, but latterly these failings had given way to family pride, and the grand ob- ject of his existence now became the restoration of the somewhat faded glories of the Mou- bray line ; no means appeared more likely to secure this desirable end than an advanta- geous alliance for his niece, therefore he deter- mined that Cecil should marry early, and marry well. b3 10 misrepresentation; or, Mr. Moubmy left a will, which, as his fortune was extremely moderate, provided rather for the future care of his daughter than for her pecu- niary necessities. By this document General Moubray and Lord Selwood were appointed Cecil's guardians; without their consent she could not marry, and her residence, until of age, was peremptorily fixed with one of those gentle- men, or with her mother. Mrs. Moubray was not of that class of persons " who weep for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a year ;" neither was she utterly disconsolate and inconsolable. She loved and honoured the me- mory of her deceased husband, and considered she should best fulfil the wishes of that husband by devoting herself entirely to her daughter. Whether Cecil's education was conducted on the most approved principles of modern tuition, we cannot tell ; certain it is, that at thirteen years old she was a pretty intelligent child ; ra- ther spoilt and wayward, perhaps, as only chil- dren and heiresses are apt to be, but altogether SCENES IN REAL LIFE. 11 very superior to most girls of her age, — so at least her mother thought. At this time, however, an alarming change took place in Mrs. Moubray's health. All the usual means were resorted to, the most eminent physicians were consulted, the most approved remedies tried, but tried in vain ; and a conti- nental residence was at length ordered as a last resource. The experiment succeeded only parti- ally ; the invalid rallied, but she did not recover ; and after visiting Italy, the south of France, and the mineral springs of Germany, Mrs. Moubray fixed on Paris as her final resting-place — and such it proved. Ere Cecil Moubray reached her eighteenth year, her tender, devoted mother was no more. Of Cecil's grief we need not speak ; it was naturally deep and intense, for she mourned a parent whose whole existence had been devoted to her, — who had indulged her every wish, and had watched over her with an affectionate soli- citude which neither disease nor suffering could 12 misrepresentation; or, diminish. She was not, however, alone or un- supported in her affliction ; for Mrs. Armstrong, an early friend of Mrs. Moubray's, was then residing in Paris, and in her family the poor orphan found a temporary home, and from her Christian kindness received all that tenderness and sympathy her forlorn situation so loudly demanded. Cecil was not insensible to the feelings her melancholy position had called forth, and she repaid the attentions thus lavishly bestowed by all the affection and gratitude of which a warm and susceptible nature is capable, so that the friendship formerly subsisting between the mo- thers bid fair to be perpetuated by their children. Cecil Moubray, though a heroine, was not a model of every virtue ; on the contrary, I am sorry to acknowledge, there were in her disposi- tion failings which, if fully developed, threat- ened to become faults of no small magnitude ; and, unfortunately, the circumstances of her life hitherto had a tendency rather to encourage SCENES IN REAL LIFE. 13 than repress the evil. An acknowledged beauty, an heiress, the object of an uncle's pride, of a mother's idolatrous affection, never thwarted, seldom even opposed, — flattered, courted, and admired, — can we wonder that a spirit, naturally proud and impetuous — " Chaf d at restraint, and murmur'd at control ?" There were, however, redeeming points in her character. If Cecil Moubray wanted gentleness, she was open, sincere, and frank ; if she were proud or wayward, she was also affectionate, high-minded, and self-denying. 14 MISREPRESENTATION; OR, CHAPTER It- General Moubray heard of his sister-in- law's death with expressions of sorrow which were perhaps the more sincere as he felt that his niece, hitherto only the subject of his ambitious hopes, might now become a source of anxiety and trouble ; at all events, according to her fa- ther's will, Cecil must in future reside with him ; and the General was an old bachelor who by no means relished the restraint of female society. But there was no alternative ; he therefore determined to bear his misfortune with becom- ing fortitude, and consoled himself with the re- SCENES IN REAL LIFE. 15 flection that so pretty a girl as Cecil would not be long before she found a more eligible home. The Moubray family possessing much county interest, the present head of the house had re- presented shire in several successive par- liaments, and never failed in giving his very decided support to the existing government. But a change of ministry, followed by a disso- lution of parliament, took place ; and in the general election which followed, the late mem- ber, who had been brought forward by his friends with every prospect of success, was, by an untoward chance, taken ill suddenly on the day of nomination, and withdrew. The govern- ment candidate came in without further opposi- tion, while his accommodating opponent received the promise of a highly honourable, and what was of still more importance, lucrative post in a distant colony. The appointment, however, was not to take place for some months, and was at present a secret, as both the ministers and their new ally 16 misrepresentation; or, agreed in thinking the less said about so dis- graceful a transaction the better, and General Moubray, not feeling himself quite comfortable in the society of those whom he had thus basely betrayed, resolved to pass the intervening autumn and winter in Paris. He arrived there, accordingly, about three months after Mrs. Mou- bray's decease. Handsome apartments in the Rue de la Paix were engaged, our heroine in- stalled in her new home, and surrounded by all the insignia of wealth. Cecil had not yet recovered her mother's death ; she was still in deep mourning ; gaiety or amusement were out of the question. She saw little of her uncle, for, naturally enough, his pur- suits and hers were quite dissimilar ; she there- fore spent the greatest portion of her time with the kind friends to whom she had been so much beholden. Under other circumstances General Moubray would have disapproved of this inti- macy, for he did not consider the family of a reduced manufacturer proper companions for SCENES EN REAL LIFE. 17 the heiress of Eldersleigh ; but situated as Cecil at present was, it did not appear that any evil could result from the acquaintance. Then it saved him trouble, — besides, it would have ap- peared ungracious to shew any slight to persons towards whom his niece was under a heavy obligation, — neither did he dislike altogether the individuals of the family. Mr. Armstrong was certainly vulgar, very vulgar ; but his wife was well connected, and, in fact, rather ladylike than otherwise ; and Caroline, though not pretty, possessed every advantage a first-rate education could bestow. There was yet another member of the family, and he was a decided favourite with General Moubray. Well educated, extremely hand- some, holding a commission in the Lancers, and only son of one of the richest manufacturers in the kingdom, Henry Armstrong was once thought a most desirable acquaintance by ladies of all ages, — and he was duly courted, caressed, and flattered; but his father's misfortunes 18 misrepresentation; or, greatly altered the state of things. He was now a Jialf-pay captain without expectations, and as his beauty had not departed with his wealth, Henry was henceforward considered by all pru- dent mammas and aunts, not only ineligible, but dangerous. But Cecil's guardian was not one of these cautious persons ; he was partial to Henry, liked his society, and saw no danger in his visits to the Rue de la Paix. Mrs. Armstrong, how- ever, did ; and many were the expostulations, numberless the warnings, and most excellent the advice, the young soldier received on the occasion. Henry listened with becoming defer- ence, acknowledged the truth of his mother's assertions, assured her he was not in the least in love, promised to set off for Italy the fol- lowing week, and — remained in Paris. But on one account Mrs. Armstrong had no reason to regret her son's infatuation, — General Moubray had taken a fancy to him ; his ex- pected appointment brought with it extensive SCENES IN REAL LIFE. 19 patronage, and anxious to repay the kindness Cecil had received on the occasion of her mo- ther's death, he offered Henry a situation in his household ; it was gladly accepted, and the gratified mother, to whom alone the circum- stance was confided, almost imagined her son's benefactor must view his passion in a favourable point of view ; for, added she, " had this not been the case, would a man of the world, as General Moubray unquestionably is, have taken a step, the consequences of which no one could for a moment doubt." But General Moubray's views and intentions respecting Cecil were of an entirely different complexion : he had always been aware of the difficulty, or rather impro- priety, of placing a young and beautiful girl at the head of an establishment such as his would be ; but, as we before remarked, he had strong hopes of deliverance from this dilemma; and these hopes now seemed likely to be realized. Mr. Dyneley, a young man of high family, made his appearance in Paris; saw, and ad- 20 MISREPRESENTATION ; OR, mired Cecil ; received every possible encourage- ment from her guardian; and after a due pro- portion of doubt and hesitation, made a formal proposal. The General was delighted. Mr. Dyneley was good-looking and gentlemanlike, in possession of an entailed estate of five thou- sand a year, and nephew and heir to Lord N . Ci It was a most excellent match, and Cecil one of the luckiest girls in the world." But she thought otherwise, and, as the reader is aware, returned a decided refusal. General Moubray's indignation was extreme. " Why, Cecil, what is the meaning of all this ? What can you be thinking of? Have you taken leave of your senses ? Five thousand a year, and a peerage in prospective ! Are you aware of the advantages you are throwing away ? Speak, child, speak ; there's nothing provokes me so much as not being answered. What rea- son can you have for playing the fool in this ner?" Uncle, I am sorry to displease you, but — " SCENES IN REAL LIFE. 21 " Sorry to displease me, indeed ! sorry to dis- please me ! It's a pity you did not think of dis- pleasing me when you were acting in this ridi- culous manner. However, if your sorrow be sincere (as I believe a woman's seldom is), sit down at once, and write a note to Mr. Dyneley, and tell him, like the rest of your fool- ish sex, you did not know your own mind, and now wish to recal your refusal. — Or stay, I will write it myself." " No, no, my dearest uncle, do not, I entreat you; I cannot, indeed I cannot, marry Mr. Dyneley." "And pray, why can't you marry Mr. Dyneley ?" said her infuriated companion, walking up to her, and setting his teeth firmly as he spoke ; " Pray why can't you marry Mr. Dyneley ? Answer me, Cecil." " Because," stammered Cecil, " Because I do not like him." " Not like a fiddlestick ! Who ever heard of a girl refusing a man merely because she 22 MISREPRESENTATION; OR, does not like him ? It's a positive absurdity." And General Moubray took several turns up and down the room, his boots making a very disagreeable creaking, as the boots of irritable gentlemen are apt to do on similar occasions. Cecil, unused to such scenes, burst into tears. " Well, well," said her guardian, rather anti- cipating a fit of hysterics, of which he had a true masculine dread, and softening his tone in conse- quence ; " Dry your eyes, Cecil ; this is a very untoward business, and certainly a great disap- pointment to me ; for to see you well and hap- pily married is one of my chief wishes ; nor has your conduct in this matter been altogether what I should have expected from you ; how- ever, if you can't make up your mind to take Mr. Dyneley, there's no use in saying anything more about it ; so kiss me, and promise to be- have better another time. But still, Cecil, I should like to know your objection?" " Perhaps," said she, playfully interrupting him, and throwing her arms round his neck, SCENES IN REAL LIFE. 23 " perhaps I do not wish to leave my dear kind uncle." The General shook his head ; he thought it very unlikely ; and recommenced his musical promenade. Suddenly he observed Cecil smile, Colour violently, and make a precipitate retreat from the window near which she had been standing; and following the direction of her eyes, General Moubray discerned Henry Arm- strong threading his way through the confused mass of carriages, horsemen, and foot passengers which usually throng the streets of Paris. In a few minutes he was in the drawing-room, and, after a short conversation with the General, seated by Cecil's side ; he did not remain long, but ere he went an appointment was made by her to accompany the Armstrongs in an expedition to Versailles. For the first time, the light broke on General Moubray's mind, and Mr. Dyneley's refusal was accounted for ; but very slowly, very reluctantly, did he receive the idea ; he could not, he would 24 MISREPRESENTATION; OR, not, believe that a Moubray should so degrade herself as to form an attachment with the son of a manufacturer, — a ruined manufacturer ! And now, reader, why did Cecil blush ? Why did she smile ? Were there indeed grounds for her uncle's fears ? Can you, will you guess ? — No, you will not ; it is not worth the trouble. Then I will tell you. Cecil was not in love with Henry Armstrong ; she liked him, for he was lively and good-tempered ; was pleased with his society, for his conversation was animated and amusing ; and she did not repress his atten- tions, because she feared to hurt feelings still smarting under the mortification of altered cir- o cumstances. Nor did she consider him in any other light than that of a friend, for she was well aware that though Henry might think her a pretty entertaining girl, there was yet one of whom he thought still more highly. So, you see, Cecil was not at all in love. Why then did she blush? Cecil blushed, because she was ashamed of being seen in the very unlady-like SCEXES IX REAL LIFE. 25 act of looking- out of window ; and she smiled, because she was o-lad Henrv was coming to call, as his presence must put an end to the ex- tremely disagreeable tete-a-tete between her uncle and herself. " Pray, Mrs. Wilson," said General Moubray, " have you any clue to Miss Moubray's con- duct ? I mean, can you account in any rational manner for her refusing Mr. Dyneley V Mrs. Wilson had been Cecil's governess, and she still remained in the capacity of companion ; she was not naturally a timid person, but stood in considerable awe of her interrogator, and re- plied, in a hesitating, flurried manner, "she was not aware of Miss Moubray's motives." " But don't you think it very strange — very extraordinary ? Mr. Dyneley has five thousand a year, and is heir to Lord N ." Mrs. Wil- son agreed it was very extraordinary. " Do you think it possible my niece can have a predilection in favour of another ? Hang me, vol. i. c 26 MISREPRESENTATION ; ^ OR, if I can account for her conduct in any other way." Mrs. Wilson was silent : she did not like to contradict her patron, neither did she wish to compromise Cecil. The question was not re- peated, for the hesitation of manner displayed by the poor nervous dependent put the matter beyond doubt: General Moubray felt that his only plan was to remove his niece from Paris, and accordingly informed her that it was his intention to return to England without delay. " Return to England at this time of the year ? Oh ! uncle, it will be so very disagreeable ; but at least I hope you will not go immediately ?" " I shall certainly leave Paris as soon as the passports are made out/' " But Caroline Armstrong is to be married soon, and I shall be quite disappointed if I can- not be at her wedding — she wishes it extremely, and you know how kind they all were to me last SCENES IN REAL LIFE. 27 " Yes ;" said the General, drily, " I am per- fectly aware of all the attentions you have received from that family. — And pray who is Miss Armstrong going to marry? her father's late clerk, or the attorney who " " Caroline Armstrong," said Cecil, with some warmth, u is to be married to Sir John Hart- field's second son." " Indeed ! I am glad to hear she is likely to form so respectable a connexion. — Is there any money ?" " Not much, I believe, but they are sincerely attached ; it has been a long engagement. His father refused his consent at first ; but Mr. Hart- field has recently obtained an appointment at Florence, and they are to be married imme- diately." " And without Sir John's sanction, I suppose?" " No, no; Sir John has consented — you can- not think how happy they are; pray let me stay for the wedding." But Cecil begged in vain : her guardian c 2 28 MISREPRESENTATION; OR, thought a wedding, and such a wedding, the very last scene in which he should like his niece to take part. So they proceeded to England without loss of time. General Moubray had no town house ; but he rented an extremely pretty villa in the Re- gent's Park. His establishment was well ap- pointed, embracing every comfort, and many luxuries ; and Cecil began to think that London was not so " very disagreeable" — nay more, that in the spring, when the fogs subsided, and the balls began, it might even be pleasant. But these feelings frequently gave way to others of a more gloomy description, and she was often sad. She had no companion ; England was to her a stranger land, and as there was nothing in her present monotonous life to occupy her mind or distract her thoughts, the anguish her mother's death had occasioned revived ; not in full force, certainly, as in the early days of this, her first sorrow, — for time had done its work, and the keenness of grief was blunted ; but memory was SCENES IN REAL LIFE. 29 busy still, and as the recollection of her tender, gentle parent rose before her, Cecil could not fail of being unhappy. This state of mind was observed by General Moubray and attributed to another cause. u So," — thought he, as he sat over the breakfast table one morning, " this is worse even than I ex- pected, — she is fairly in love, actually pining for that low-born beggar ; and for fear he should lack opportunities of playing the agreeable, I, fool that I was, must give him an appointment in my house, and they will be constantly to- gether, for it is quite clear Miss Cecil will * like no one ' until this foolish affair is put an end to. It is really monstrous provoking to have another man's daughter always in one's house : my brother must have been mad when he made that will." "Yet Cecil is a good girl, and if I were to remain in England it would be all very well; but as it is, I do not see what is to be done, un- less, indeed, something else could be got for 30 misrepresentation; or, Armstrong. And, by the way, that is by no means impossible. Lord L. is my personal friend, and I will apply, — yes, I will certainly apply to him. How foolish I was not to think of this before." " Cecil, my dear, ring the bell ; I want my horse brought round." " I fear, uncle, that it rains; would" it not be better to order the carriage?" " No, no; I am going out on business, and have no time to lose." The bell was rung and answered, the horse ordered, and the General about to leave the room, when the servant re-appeared, bearing the letters which had come by that day's post. There were several for General Moubray, but they were not particularly interesting. He broke the seals, cast his eyes over the contents, and left their full consideration to a future period. Cecil's despatch, however, was of a different nature. " Oh, I am so happy, so pleased, Caroline SCENES EN REAL LIFE. 31 Hartfield will be in England in a few days ; she is coming to visit her husband's family. How delighted I shall be to welcome her. — I suppose I may ask them to spend some time with us?" " Is Captain Armstrong to accompany Mr. and Mrs. Hartfield V " I do not know, but I should hardly think so ; Caroline does not mention. Yet stay," said Cecil, referring to her letter ; " Caroline does say something about him. Oh ! here it is, — ' Henry is at Florence.' " The General moved towards the door, and Cecil was half inclined to follow and again urge her request, but her uncle's manner was not en- couraging ; so she desisted, and comforted her- self with reflecting that she had the entire con- trol of her morning hours, and a carriage at her command, consequently she and Caroline might be much together, and enjoy themselves ex- ceedingly. Disappointment is the lot of man • fairy visions 32 MISREPRESENTATION; OR, vanish, joyous hopes are blighted, trusty friend s betray, and pleasant parties fail. All tends to prove that disappointment is the lot of man. There are, however, it is said, exceptions to every rule, and in this instance Cecil's fate was one. The Hartfields came ; later, indeed, than had been announced, but they did come, and re- mained some weeks. From this time, as our readers will believe, Miss Moubray's spirits improved wonderfully, and her life was spent in the most agreeable manner, walking and driving, seeing sights and talking with Caroline; in the latter particular only Cecil's enjoyment fell short of her antici- pations; a sister of Mr. Hartfield's was staying with him, and of course partook of all the above- mentioned pastimes. Now, although Elizabeth was a sensible, well- bred girl, to whom Cecil would not have objected as an occasional companion, she thought her continual presence a very great restraint, and wondered that Caroline did not think so too SCENES IN REAL LIFE. 33 But Mrs. Hartfield's feelings, latterly, had taken a new turn ; her husband had become the su- preme object of her thoughts, wishes, and affec- tions; and she quite forgot that her dear Ed- ward's sister might not prove as interesting to others as she was to her. Cecil was about to make a grand discovery, which occurs sooner or later to most young ladies; videlicet, that a married friend is not so desirable a person as one who still lingers in single blessedness. Malgre this drawback, however, Cecil enjoyed herself exceedingly ; her uncle, though subject to occasional fits of temper, was very indulgent, — that is to say, he interfered with none of her plans, disapproved of none of her movements, (provided she did not keep the dinner waiting,) and cheerfully and readily answered the some- what heavy demands on his purse. Cecil had companions, plenty of money, and her own way; it was not therefore wonderful that she was in good spirits, if not positively happy. But if, in this instance, Miss Moubray es- c 3 34 MISREPRESENTATION,* OR, caped disappointment, her guardian was not so fortunate. We left him in a shower of rain, making the best of his way to Downing-street, and quite sanguine as to the result of his appli- cation there. Nor did the reception he met with in any measure damp the ardour of his hopes ; Lord L. was delighted to see General Moubray, and would have the greatest pleasure in serving an old friend : " There might be difficulties, and some delay ; but he would do his utmost, and had no doubt of ultimate success." Lord L. was perfectly sincere in making these assurances ; it would have gratified him to have obliged General Moubray, more particularly as his lordship's fifth son was unprovided for, and the post vacated by Henry, being one which required little mental exertion, would be exactly suited to him. But ministers, actuated by the very best and purest intentions, do not always answer the expectations they have raised ; and about three weeks after the above-mentioned interview had taken place, General Moubray was in- SCENES IN REAL LIFE. 35 formed that, notwithstanding his most strenuous exertions, Lord L. found it impossible to procure the desired appointment; and as if this were not sufficiently vexatious, the very next day Mrs. Wilson declared herself afraid of the climate of , and unwilling to leave England. On this occasion General Moubray did not storm, in fact, such a mode of proceeding would have been highly impolitic ; but he offered a consi- derable increase of salary, with the prospect of still further advantages. The lady was, how- ever, resolute in her refusal, and there remained no alternative but the endeavour to find a suc- cessor. With the hope, therefore, of meeting with advice and assistance in this unpleasant difficulty, the perplexed veteran betook himself to No. — , Bruton-street, where resided one of his very few female friends, who being at home, General Moubray was ushered into the drawing room, and after a few preliminary observations, unfolded his distresses. Lady Louisa Hampden, a person of much 36 MISREPRESENTATION; OR, good sense and feeling, entered fully into the subject, and had it been in her power would gladly have given more than her sympathy ; but she was so fully alive to the difficulty of finding a person altogether competent to discharge the duties of the situation required, that she could not immediately think of any one whom she could conscientiously recommend. She promised, however, to make inquiries, and if any success resulted from her endeavours, would have great pleasure in apprising her visiter. Baffled in every way, General Moubray returned home, thinking his niece a very great plague. The following day he wrote and despatched a letter by the general post, and in the beginning of the ensuing week informed Cecil that he must leave town on business, and should be absent a few days. SCENES IN REAL LIFE. 37 CHAPTER III. " You are very pale to-day, my dear Cecil,' - ' said Mrs. Hartfield to her friend as they drove towards St. James's Street ; " I'm afraid you are not well. Has anything happened ? Is the General displeased ? I'm sure something is wrong. Tell me, pray tell me, what is it that distresses you ?" " Oh ! Caroline, I'm very unhappy. I'm not to go ; my uncle will not take me ; I am to be left behind." "My dear Cecil, you do not surely mean that you are not to accompany General Mou- bray V 38 misrepresentation; or, " Yes indeed, Carry, my uncle has determined not to take me with him. You cannot think how much I feel it." "But I thought your father's will guarded against such a measure. Is it not true that you are obliged to reside with your guardian V " It is quite true ; but I have, unfortunately, another guardian — Lord St. Maur ; and with him I must remain until my uncle's return. It is really extremely disagreeable, and I am more provoked than I can express with Mrs. Wilson : it is, in fact, entirely her doing ; for if she had not taken this ridiculous panic about the climate I'm certain my uncle would never have thought of leaving me with persons I have never seen, and who, no doubt, will be as little anxious for my society as I am for theirs. Think, Caroline, how miserable it will be to remain upwards of two years in a family where I can but be con- sidered as an unwelcome intruder, and disliked accordingly." " That does not follow," rejoined Mrs. Hart- SCEXES IX REAL LIFE. 39 field; "who can know my Cecil and not love her? Besides, are you not related to Lord St. Maur ?" " Merely connected : .you know he married my mother's cousin, Frances Hutton ; but it is some years since she died." * But," said Caroline, after a pause, " if Lord St. Maur be a widower, how can you reside in his house ? It would not be correct." " Oh, yes, it will ; there is a sister of his — Lady Emily Warham — who, with her two daughters, lives at Selwood ; my uncle positively raves about her, and says, to be introduced by so elegant a woman will be the greatest pos- sible advantage for me. Selwood Castle, too, is a magnificent place; but I am sure I would rather a thousand times be anywhere else." " And is your uncle quite determined V " Oh yes, quite. He has made up his mind, and I know it would be hopeless to endeavour to dissuade him, for when he has once deter- mined upon anything, nothing in the world will 40 MISREPRESENTATION; OR, shake his purpose ; so in less than a fortnight my delectable visit is to begin. Oh ! how I wish it were over." " What sort of a person is the Earl himself?" <4 My uncle says, extremely sensible, and gentlemanlike ; but I never place any depend- ence upon his judgment : he is so apt to take fancies. One thing, however, is quite certain, my cousin's marriage was a most unhappy one ; and though I believe Lady Selwood was very much to blame, we can hardly imagine that all the fault lay on her side." " But have you never seen Lord St. Maur ?" " Never ; shortly after the marriage, my father and mother spent a short time at Selwood ; but I was not with them." At this moment Elizabeth — who, considering the conversation of a private nature, and not altogether intended for her benefit, had occupied herself in scrutinizing with much earnestness each passing object — suddenly exclaimed, " There is Lord St. Maur !" SCENES IX REAL LIFE. 41 " Where ? where V cried both her com- panions at once, and trying to make amends for the rapidity with which the carnage rolled on by peeping through the little back window, whereby they obtained an admirable view of General Moubray's livery servant. u There — opposite to that print shop — this side, Cecil — speaking to a guardsman." "What?" said Miss Moubray, "that fat, vulgar looking person? Surely that cannot be Lord St. Maur ! and yet I don't know why I say so, for it is impossible to imagine anything more decidedly plebeian in appearance than my uncle's ministerial friend, Lord L. However, we shall soon have an opportunity of knowing more about his lordship, for he dines with us on Wednesday ; and, by the way, Carry, I do hope you will come early ; you know it is to be • my first appearance/ and I feel a little nervous." " Will the party be a large one ?" " Hardly ; there are so few people in town at this season of the year. Let me see who we are 42 misrepresentation; or, to have ; Lady Louisa Hampden and her daugh- ters, Mr. Wickham, yourselves, General Fielding, Sir John Thornton, 1 cannot recollect any one else. But, Elizabeth, are you acquainted with Lord St. Maur?" 6t No, not acquainted ; Lady Emily Warham and her daughters were at Tunbridge-wells two years ago, when mamma was there ; and we knew the family by sight." " Then you did not visit ?" " Oh dear, no ; Lady Emily is much too fine a person to associate with a mere baronet's family." " I thought so/' cried Cecil ; " I am certain they are a proud, disagreeable set of people." '* Dearest Cecil," said Caroline, who was both older and wiser than our heroine, " do not, I entreat you, give way to prejudices which may prove both unfounded and unjust; pray remem- ber, that charity thinks no evil. What have you in that casket?" il Diamonds, family diamonds, which my uncle SCENES IN REAL LIFE. 43 has given me. Yes, they are handsome, but the setting is quite out of date, and I must call with them at S ton's before we return home." Accordingly they alighted at the jeweller's ; and, after some wavering and deliberation, Miss Moubray gave the necessary orders for resetting her ornaments. Then she bought a bracelet, two pair of earrings, and a brooch ; most people will agree in thinking this rather a considerable addition to a young lady's trinket-box, and that our heroine was an extravagant girl ; perhaps, however, in this instance, her profuseness may be excused, for it was not selfish. The earrings were for her companions, the bracelet for Mrs. Armstrong, and the brooch, which contained hair, was intended as a parting gift for Mrs. Wilson. The carriage was then ordered to stop at Madame Maradan's, where Cecil gave very par- ticular orders respecting a half-mourning dinner- dress ; and purchased a bonnet, which was de- clared to be exceedingly becoming, an opinion 44 MISREPRESENTATION; OR, in which the wearer cordially acquiesced. Af- terwards they drove to the town residence of some of the Hartfield family, in Upper Grosvenor Street ; and as Cecil did not consider her pre- sence necessary on this occasion, she remained in the carriage, and passed a quarter of an hour most agreeably, conversing with the Prince Eugene de C . Altogether she spent so pleasant an afternoon that she returned home with her equanimity quite restored, and even in- clined to hope that Selwood might prove a plea- sant residence. I am much disposed to think that the transient glance she had obtained of her future host had no inconsiderable share in producing this improved tone of mind. Fat people are generally good tempered ; and Cecil thought it highly probable that the " stout gen- tleman" she had seen near the print shop in St, James's Street might turn out an easy, manageable person, of whom she need not be in the least afraid. But a few minutes' converation with her uncle SCENES IN REAL LIFE. 45 speedily convinced her that Elizabeth must be mistaken ; and when, on the following day, Lord St. Maur called at the house, and, finding Gene- ral Moubray from home, contented himself with leaving his card, Cecil, disappointed at losing so good an opportunity of gratifying her curiosity, and perhaps a little piqued by her guardian's apparent want of attention to her, felt very much disposed to revert to her original opinion. Wednesday arrived : Cecil was out late, and General Moubray in a terrible fidget. "Cecil," cried he, when she at length made her appear- ance, " how is it you are so late ? You will not be dressed in time to receive your guests. Where in the world have you been all the morning?" Cecil did not answer, her attention beino- com- pletely absorbed by a very pretty little piece of folded pink paper which had been put into her hand as she entered the house. At length, hav- ing mastered its contents, she replied, " A note from Miss Hampden, uncle — an excuse ; Lady 46 MISREPRESENTATION ; OR, Louisa has the influenza and is afraid to venture out ; it is really a pity, for she is a very agree- able person, and talks so well ; we shall miss her dreadfully. Besides, we shall not have ladies enough." " That," replied the General, " is generally considered a fault on the right side." " I know it ; but as it is not pleasant to be so completely in the minority, would it not be as well to allow poor Mrs. Wilson to join us ?" " On no account," said her uncle, who had not yet forgiven poor Mrs. Wilson's late desertion. " It's very tiresome, though," continued he ; " our party will be too small. I wish now I had asked young Dyneley; I met him to-day in Bond-street." Cecil had a great dislike to Mr. Dyneley's name, inasmuch as she knew her uncle had by no means forgotten her contumacy on the occa- sion of that gentleman's offer; she therefore thought it quite time to begin her toilette, and hurried off to her dressing-room, where she SCENES IN REAL LIFE. 47 found her attendant in a very disagreeable humour. " Make haste, Mason," said Cecil, after a time ; " it is late, — later than I thought : there, that curl will do very well. Do make haste." " Yes, ma'am," replied the abigail. " But 'tis no use for me to be hurrying myself, and dressing your hair not fit to be seen ; 'tis no use for me to be hurrying myself, I say, when there's no dress for you to wear." " What do you mean," said her mistress, looking perfectly aghast at this fatal announce- ment. " Has net Maradan sent home my dress ?" " No, indeed, ma'am; and as many as thiee messengers have been sent for it, and all to no purpose." "What shall I do?" cried Cecil. "My uncle will be so angry; and there is somebody come already. What unprincipled people milli- ners are ! But, Mason, pray see, is there no other dress I can wear ?" " I'm afraid not, ma'am ; you've been so long 48 MISREPRESENTATION; OR, u Let me see, at any rate." Mason was right. The few evening dresses remaining of a once well-furnished wardrobe, were quite impracticable, for they were coloured, and Miss Moubray was still in slight mourning. " Then I suppose I shall be obliged to come in, as good children do, with the dessert; or make my first appearance in the drawing-room like a governess, or young lady, not yet out of the school-room; unless, indeed, I wear my old black crape ; and perhaps that will be the best plan, although it is dreadfully shabby and un- becoming. Oh ! here is my dress. Come, Mason, — quick, — that will do. How lucky that it fits so well. I wonder who it is that came so early. Mr. Wickham, I suppose." Mr. Wickham was an admirer of Miss Mou- bray's, in a quiet sort of way, and rather a favourite. " Well, Cecil," said her uncle, kindly, as she entered the drawing-room, " I told you, you would be late. However, as you are not often unpunctual, I must not scold you. Lord St. SCENES IX REAL LIFE. 49 Maur, allow me to introduce my niece, Miss Moubray." Cecil was in high beauty : dress became her, — the little toilette trepidation had heightened her complexion, — and General Moubray's look and manner plainly spoke his sense of his niece's loveliness. But in this opinion Lord St. Maur evidently did not agree, for, notwithstanding the habit of controlling and concealing the emotions exercised by all who mix in general society, the most indifferent bystander must have per- ceived, from the sudden change in his counte- nance, that his introduction to his beautiful ward gave rise to feelings which were anything but pleasing. He recovered himself, however, and, after addressing a few common-place re- marks to her, recommenced the conversation which had been interrupted ; while Cecil betook herself to the sofa, where she sat, feeling exces- sively uncomfortable, and wondering why Mrs. Hartfield did not come. Knock succeeded to knock, gentleman after VOL.1. D 50 misrepresentation; or, gentleman was ushered into the room, and still she sat in solitary grandeur. All the guests, with the exception of Mr. Wickham and Sir John Thornton, were strangers to her, and retreated to the other end of the apartment the moment the necessary introduction was over. Of Sir John, there was no hope. General Field- ing had seized upon him, and they were deeply engaged in a political discussion ; but Wickham, Cecil thought, ought to have known better, and she determined to punish him for his inattention by being extremely cold and distant at his next morning visit. Hopes of future revenge, however, afforded no present relief; and, almost driven to despair, our heroine at last resolved to open a communica- tion with Lord St. Maur, who was standing mid- way between her and the fire, apparently wholly indifferent to the scene around him. Accordingly, the Earl was informed, " that the day had been fine, and Miss Moubray agreeably surprised in the climate of England." SCENES IN REAL LIFE. 51 But he either did not hear or did not heed the interesting intelligence ; and Cecil was too much discouraged to repeat her remark. Soon after, Caroline, the long expected Caro- line, entered the room, with Elizabeth on her arm, and followed, not by her husband, but by Henry Armstrong, who, in fact, had been the cause of the delay. Mr. Hartfield was either indisposed or lazy, and Henry, who had arrived rather suddenly from the continent, was too happy to take his place. According to the most approved rule and general practice in novel writing, I believe I ought to give a full and particular account of all that was done, said, or eaten, at the dinner table, over which Cecil presided, with an accu- rate description of the several guests who graced the board. This is certainly an admirable plan for filling a book ; nevertheless, I feel greatly inclined to leave these interesting details to the imagination of my reader, merely premising, that, with the exception of being less numerous, d 2 5S—*"* 52 misrepresentation; or, perhaps, the party was precisely such an one as the last at which he assisted ; for I do believe there is nothing in the whole world more mono- tonous than dinner parties. " When I was in England," I once heard a French lady say, " although I dined in several different houses, I was as certain of my dinner as if I had ordered it ; for I invariably found the same dishes on every table." She might have added — "and the same guests, too;" for, with the exception of the difference of names, (and what is in a name ?) the dinner company in one house is precisely the dinner company in another. A few elderly gentlemen who sit at the head of the table, as many dowagers near the foot, one or two young ladies in the middle, and seve- ral young men to fill up the interstices. Reader, is not this a fac simile of your last dinner party ? And need I tell you, in addition, that, at the en- tertainment I am describing, the wines were ex- cellent, the dishes well dressed ; that Henry Armstrong was in unusually high spirits, and SCENES IN REAL LIFE. 53 that his good humour and anxiety to please appeared to greater advantage (in Cecil's eyes, at least,) from being contrasted with the reserve and taciturnity of the nobleman who sat beside her. " My dear Elizabeth," exclaimed Caroline, the moment the ladies had reached the drawing- room, " how could you make such a mistake ? — there is not the slightest resemblance. Lord St. Maur is one of the handsomest men I ever saw, and the gentleman you pointed out to us on Saturday was both ugly and vulgar looking ; J assure you, I could hardly keep my counte- nance when 1 compared his extremely plebeian appearance with the very elegant person of the young Peer who was dining with us. How could you make such a blunder ?" Elizabeth, with considerable candour, ac- knowledged her error ; adding, that she had fre- quentlyseen Lord St. Maur walking with the Misses Warham, but, from the slight disparity of years, had always considered him to be a 54 MISREPRESENTATION; OR, cousin, or elder brother. And then, by way of reparation, perhaps, for her previous injustice, Miss Hartrield passed a very glowing encomium, on the personal appearance of this much talked of individual, in which Caroline perfectly acqui- esced. They did, however, disagree on one point. Elizabeth thought a slight contraction of the forehead, whereby his dark, straight, well pencilled eyebrows, were brought much closer than had been by nature intended, indicated more than seriousness of character, — " she was afraid he was morose and ill-tempered." " Elizabeth," replied her sister-in-law, " I cannot agree with you. There is, I must allow, at times, a disagreeable expression about the mouth : but when Lord St. Maur smiles, as he did when General Moubray was speaking of his little girl, his countenance is very pleasing. Indeed, I do not think he is ill-tempered ; to me, he looks rather like a person who thinks deeply, and has read much." " Then I am sure it is a great pity he does SCENES IN REAL LIFE. 55 not allow his friends to benefit by his studies," cried Cecil, who had, until now, been entirely engrossed in turning over some new music Henry Armstrong had brought from Florence. " Did you give him an opportunity, Cecil ?" asked her friend. " Oh, I am not speaking on my own account; I assure you, I had no wish whatever for his con- versation ; but I do think he might have given himself the trouble of addressing a few words to General Fielding, instead of sitting up, looking as solemn and disagreeable as the ghost in Don Giovanni ; indeed, 1 am not sure whether the ghost is not the most aimable of the two ; for that does sing, while Lord St. Maur never opened his lips, excepting to offer me his assis- tance ; and even then, his manner was so odious I was out of all patience, and said I would help the fricandeau, or whatever it was, myself, when, (as a punishment for my petulance I suppose), I had a dreadful misfortune, and spilt the sauce upon the table-cloth. " 56 MISREPRESENTATION ; OR, " Ah !" said Elizabeth, " that reminds me of what once occurred to me ; I cannot tell how it happened, but I was obliged to carve a ham ; and do you know, with all my efforts, I could not get out the first slice : I thought I should have died of shame and confusion." " And so, Cecil, you are not pleased with your new friend ?" " No, indeed ; who could be pleased with so rude and disagreeable a man ? I am sure, Carry, you could not like him yourself.'' " I don't think Lord St. Maur can be con- sidered exactly rude ; his manner certainly might be improved, but perhaps it arises from the relative position in which you are placed. " Perhaps," continued Caroline, smiling, " per- haps he suspects that his pretty ward has a will of her own." " And that I am to be frowned out of it," interrupted Cecil ; " then I can assure his high mightiness he will find himself much mistaken. Now don't look so grave, Carry; I am, you know, SCENES IN REAL LIFE. 57 a true Moubray, and as such, will submit to no despotic sway. Were Lord St. Maur an older man, the case might be different ; but, as it is, rely upon it, if he ever does gain an ascendency over me, it will be by influence, not dictation. Captain Armstrong, I am glad to see you still retain your continental habits, and have taste enough to prefer the drawing to the dining-room : and, as a return for the honour you have con- ferred on us, you shall be umpire in a grand dispute." " With the greatest pleasure ; and I will try to be impartial. But you must tell me first the grounds of the argument." " They are easily stated : Is the gentleman who during dinner sat on my right hand dis- agreeable or not ? Ca ry says, no; Elizabeth and I say, yes. Which way will you vote ?" "With the ayes, unquestionably. I should describe Lord St. Maur as pride embodied in conceit ; a man, too, who, where he dared, would play the tyrant." d 3 58 MISREPRESENTATION J OR, (i My dear Henry ," replied his sister, " you're really too severe !" " I cannot think so, Caroline. I watched him narrowly, and am convinced he is haughty and overbearing in the last degree." Mrs. Hartfield thought these remarks little calculated to reconcile Cecil to her future resi- dence in Lord St. Maur's family, and proposed music, byway of finishing the discussion. Seve- ral duets were sung, but Cecil was not musically disposed, so that when General Moubray brought up the last detachment of gentlemen, he found his niece still earnestly conversing with her sup- posed admirer; and Lord St. Maur listening with much satisfaction, and assisting Caroline, who was an excellent musician, in turning over the pages of her music-book. But scarcely had Cecil, in compliance with her uncle's directions, taken her place at the instru- ment, and commenced singing, than the Earl walked abruptly away. The place thus strangely vacated, was speedily filled by Wickham ; and SCENES IN REAL LIFE. 59 Miss Moubray's manner testified very unequivo- cally her sense of his good-natured politeness. Caroline observed and regretted this occur- rence, trifling as it was ; for she knew it would tend to increase Cecil's prejudices against her guardian. Mrs. Hartfield was still more grieved by remarking, that the mention of Miss Mou- bray's name awakened on his part sentiments of an equally unpleasant nature. " The dislike was evidently mutual ; he is dis- pleased," thought she ; " offended by Cecil's in- attention at dinner, and certainly it was very foolish to suffer herself to be so entirely engrossed by Sir John Thornton ; and as the baronet is neither young nor entertaining, it makes the slight more conspicuous. Oh ! how I wish, my dear impetuous little friend, you would learn to be more guarded and careful in the expression of your feelings." " Well," said General Moubray, after the com- pany had departed, "all things considered, the party went off well enough; but, my dear Cecil, 60 MISREPRESENTATION J OR, do let me beg, that in future, when you are placed between two gentlemen, you will direct your con- versation equally to both ; there is nothing more ill-bred than to make a distinction between your guests. And by the way, Cecil, it will be as well to take a few lessons in singing, when you return to town ; you must learn to open your mouth more, like your friend Caroline Hartfield ; her singing is worth something, and so Lord St. Maur thought, for he listened to her with great pleasure ; but when you began he walked away, and no wonder either, for confound me if it wasn't more like a rat squeaking behind the wainscot than a young lady's voice." Miss Moubray retired to rest that evening, very much out of spirits, or temper, and wishing with all her heart that Mr. Wickham, good- natured, quiet, respectful Mr. Wickham, had been her guardian instead of Lord St. Maur. SCENES IN REAL LIFE. 61 CHAPTER IV. Horace St. Maur had the misfortune of being born a younger son, and inherited a younger son's prospects — ten thousand pounds, a commis- sion in the Guards, and the representation of the family borough when the death of his father should open the house of hereditary legislation to his elder brother. Marriage was out of the question, unless, indeed, such an alliance as might be the means of paying his debts, and procur- ing him an establishment suitable to his rank : an union merely of affection must not be thought of; if he did marry, he must bow at the shrine of 62 MISREPRESENTATION ; OR, Mammon. In addition to a very handsome per- son, he was both clever and sensible ; but as sensible people sometimes do very foolish things, Horace one fine day committed the inconceivable imprudence of falling violently in love with his first cousin, — pretty, pennyless, Eleanor Beau- clerc. He did not, however, tell his love, for he knew that, under present circumstances, such a disclosure would be very injudicious; but he looked it, and the lady smiled her approbation. There was no actual engagement between the young people, but, as it is called, an understand- ing; and Horace returned to Oxford, resolved to study diligently, and sanguine in the hope that the period was not very distant when the supe- rior talents he was conscious of possessing, backed by his father's influence, would place him in such circumstances as might enable him to ask and obtain the fair hand of her he loved. Shortly after this, however, two events oc- curred which materially altered his feelings towards Eleanor and his position in society : SCENES IN REAL LIFE. 63 Miss Beauclerc became Lady Newrystown ; and Lord St. Maur's eldest son was killed by a fall from his horse. Horace became Lord Selwood ; but, notwithstanding this accession of rank and importance, there was one respect in which his situation underwent no change, for the extrava- gance of the late viscount had left an accumula- tion of debts, for many of which his father now became answerable, and an advantageous mar- riage for his successor was still necessary as the only possible means of freeing the family estates. Eleanor's admirer was deeply wounded by her inconstancy ; but few men, I believe, sigh long over a hopeless passion ; and Lord Selwood very speedily discovered there were many much prettier girls than his cousin, and that he had had a most fortunate escape. The circumstance, however, produced an unfavourable effect on his mind — as far, at least, as the fair sex were con- cerned. " He had been deceived ; cruelly, basely deceived ; Eleanor Beauclerc was a 64 MISREPRESENTATION; OR, heartless coquette, and so were all women." Thus reasoned Horace at twenty ; and at thirty his opinions had undergone little or no change. About two years after Lady Newrystown's marriage, the fashionable prints announced the probability of a speedy union between Lord St. Maur's only son and the beautiful and wealthy Miss Hutton. This intimation was received by the friends of both parties with very opposite feelings ; those on the lady's side wondered that Frances should be so foolish as to risk her happiness by marrying a man many years younger than herself; and some disinterested persons, who had large families to provide for, thought it would have been much wiser and better if she had been satisfied with not marry- ing at all. Lord Sel wood's friends, on the other hand, were highly gratified with the match : one hundred thousand pounds in hard money would go far in paying off mortgages, and ex- tricating the family estates. There were ad- SCENES IN REAL LIFE. 65 vantages, too, in the lady's age ; — " For," argued the old Earl, (who in fact had been the principal abettor of the marriage,) " a woman at her time of life, who has had her full swing, is much more likely to settle down quietly, and be con- tented to lead a rational, sober, and inexpensive life, than a girl of nineteen, who would be mad after gaiety and amusement, and never happy but when she was committing some extrava- gance or another." The Earl was much mistaken. There are un- doubtedly instances in which the votaries of dis- sipation sicken and weary of the empty joys they have been pursuing ; but in a far greater number the love of pleasure and display i( grows with what it feeds upon ;" and thus it was with Lady Selwood. Beautiful, and, what is of more estimation still in the matrimonial mart, wealthy, Frances Hut- ton was one and thirty, and yet unmarried ; not, as some of her kind friends hinted, be- cause she had not yet recovered a disappoint- 66 MISREPRESENTATION; OR, ment which she had received several years before ; still less from lack of offers; but simply because the constant gaiety and excitement in which she moved so entirely suited her habits and disposition that she felt no inclination to change her lot ; and, when at last she consented to marry Lord Selwood, she was not influenced by admiration for his handsome person, nor even was she swayed by gratified vanity, but solely by the notion, that, as mistress of one of the finest places in England, and the wife of a man whose future rent roll exceeded thirty thousand per annum, she would be able more fully to indulge her taste for amusement and love of change. Frances had not the slightest intention of settling down into a quiet wife; on the contrary, she meant to be extremely gay, fashionable, and dissipated ; nor did the early part of her married life disappoint these brilliant expectations. The fortnight of customary seclusion was saved from being tedious by the novelty and SCENES IN REAL LIFE. 67 splendour of her recently acquired position in society. And as Lady Selwood paced the gor- geous apartments of her new abode, or saun- tered through the vast domain by which the castle was surrounded, it would have been diffi- cult to persuade her that in marrying she had done a foolish thing. Then followed a series of visits to friends and relations ; and while this excitement lasted Frances had no doubt of the prudence of the line of conduct she had pursued ; nor did she observe, what every body else did, that the politeness of her young husband was fast be- coming mere indifference, and that at times he could scarcely conceal the disgust and contempt he felt for her vanity and folly. It was not until they returned to occupy their magnificent, though somewhat gloomy abode, that Frances made the unpleasant discovery, that home amusements would form no part of her future life. She might pay as many visits as she liked, 68 misrepresentation; or, she might invite, in return, those of her intimate friends who could be satisfied with the quiet enjoyment of a small, stupid, family circle, but nothing further ; balls, private theatricals, or even large parties of visiters, were interdicted as suiting neither the delicate health nor embar- rassed finances of her father-in-law. From this time, unpleasant suspicions began to intrude themselves, and gradually Lady Sel- wood became convinced she had made a great mistake. A sensible or an amiable woman would have endeavoured to accommodate her- self to the circumstances in which she was placed ; but Frances was neither sensible nor amiable ; and as weak people are almost inva- riably conceited, she blamed, not her own folly in making so imprudent a match, but her hus- band, whom she secretly accused of having deceived her upon the subject of his affairs. Lord Selwood bore these ebullitions of his lady's discontent as well as could be expected from a naturally irritable temper ; that is to say, SCENES IN REAL LIFE. 69 he generally took himself out of the room, and left her anger to expend itself. But at last, her ill-humour passing all bounds, she declared she would quit Selwood Castle, and insisted upon a separate establishment. "It was very hard," she said, il that she who, even as an unmarried woman, had been the mistress of her own house, should be condemned to lead the life she did." rt You forget, Frances," angrily replied her husband, " that before our marriage I explained to you over and over again how desirable, or rather necessary, our residing with my father for two or three years would be, and you then con- sented to it without any difficulty." " It may be so ; but how could I possibly imagine we were to pass our time in this dull, humdrum, miserable manner. I'm sure I always expected to live as other people of rank do, or I never would have consented to become your wife." 11 I wish with all my heart you never had," replied he, mentally. 70 misrepresentation; or, " In short," continued Frances, u I am quite determined to spend the next four months in town; and orders must be given to have the house in Grosvenor-square prepared for my reception." " The house in Grosvenor-square is let for two years." " Let for two years ? and why, may I ask V* " Because, as I have told you at least twenty times, my father's income is so much curtailed by my late brother's extravagance, that at present it is impossible to keep up more than one estab- lishment. Colonel Warham's affairs, too, are turning out badly, and I fear there will be scarcely money enough to cover his debts, much less to provide for his widow and children ; and as something must be done for them, our spend- ing this spring in town would be highly unad- visable. I do therefore hope you will not persist in your present intention." " I must say, I think it very hard that I am to pay for your brother's extravagance. And SCENES IX REAL LIFE. 71 what are Lady Emily's distresses to me? She brought them upon herself by marrying as she did. I certainly shall not give up my intention of going to town ; and as you are always com- plaining of the want of money, allow me to inquire what is become of mine ? I suppose it is not all spent ? Why can't I have at least the interest of it ?" " Your fortune, Lady Selwood, was, with your free consent, applied to the discharge of those debts which pressed most heavil yon the pro- perty your son may eventually inherit ; and in return, a jointure of nine thousand a year was insured to you ; and I must confess I cannot see that you have much reason for complaint." " A jointure, indeed ! a jointure ! What good will a jointure do me, I should like to know? It is ten to one I ever live to want it; I shall be moped to death, or go out of my senses — or break my heart !" " Nonsense !" said the- Viscount, as he pre- pared to leave the room. 72 MISREPRESENTATION ; OR, c< It is not nonsense," half screamed his irri- tated lady. " It is not nonsense ; I wish it were. But I tell you, once for all, that to London I will 2:0. I have no idea of being made subservient to a parcel of beggars !" " A parcel of what?" demanded he, furiously.