LIB RA RY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 U N IVLR5ITY 
 
 Of ILLI NOIS 
 
 823 
 H88l2c£ 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
Printed by Strahan and Spottiswoode, 
 Printers- Street, London. 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 By lady humdrum, 
 
 AUTHOR OF MORE WORKS THAN BEAR HER NAME. 
 
 Tedious the tale with lengthen'd lectures fraught : 
 We're less by precept than example taught. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN, 
 
 PATERNOSTER-ROW. 
 
 1820. 
 

 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The change in the face of affairs in the 
 Belmont family gave so natural a colour 
 to the visit of Lady Sabina's brother at 
 the Park, that Sophia paid little atention 
 to the circumstance, when told of Lord 
 Leonard Ormsby's arrival there. The 
 absence of Mrs. Villars she considered as 
 a decided check to all intercourse j for- 
 getting her father's total disregard of 
 forms of any kind, when not put in mind 
 of them. 
 
 The return of Henry was an agreeable 
 surprise, and the reports he had to make 
 of the invalids so very satisfactory, that 
 
 VOL. II. B 
 
2 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 the thoughts both of father and daughter 
 were wholly engrossed with the delight- 
 ful expectation of seeing Mrs. Villars and 
 Emily restored to perfect health in the 
 spring. 
 
 When Mr. Villars heard Lord Leonard 
 was again at hand, ** Well, Hal V he 
 cried, <* let's have as much of him here 
 as we can. I like that young man: he'll 
 make a figure in the House on the right 
 side of the question. Give him a general 
 invitation to dinner, whenever he can get 
 away from the Belmont's ; — I wish to 
 talk over matters with him a little." 
 
 Sophia being out of the way when this 
 was said, there was no check to Henry's 
 acting upon it ; which he did with due 
 celerity. Lord Leonard of course was 
 not slow in availing himself of so pro- 
 mising an opening. The first day, he 
 could not decently avoid dining with his 
 hosts, but on the following morning he 
 attended the Priory breakfast-table, and, 
 with a look of gratitude to Mr. Villars, 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 3 
 
 <' proposed to himself the pleasure of 
 making one at his hospitable board, at 
 five." Mr. Villars gave him a hearty- 
 shake with the left hand in token of ac- 
 ceptance, the right being disabled by 
 gout ; and immediately broached his 
 favourite topic, which led them deep into 
 state affairs. 
 
 Sophia was surprised, and a good deal 
 displeased, with this apparent forward-, 
 ness ; and would have decidedly absented 
 herself from the dinner-table, had it not 
 been for the necessity, in her father's 
 present state, of cutting his food for him, 
 which he did not like any one to do but 
 herself She withdrew from the apartment 
 the moment breakfast ended, and re- 
 solved to do the same the instant the 
 dessert should be removed. 
 
 An early visit from Laura, however, soon 
 recalled her again to the library. Sophia 
 held her in sovereign contempt for the 
 art and insincerity of her character ; was 
 highly indignant at the part she suspected 
 B 2 
 
^ DOMESTIC SCENE^^ 
 
 her to have taken in regard to Charles, 
 and fully aware, moreover, of her de- 
 signs upon Henry. Not much in the 
 habit of disguising her feelings at any 
 time, she now entered with an awe-in- 
 spiring air she well knew how to assume, 
 w^hen either duplicity or profligacy ob- 
 truded themselves into her presence. 
 
 Laura, already disconcerted at finding 
 Lord Leonard quietly established where 
 she neither wished nor expected it, was 
 now so petrified by the frigid reception 
 she met with, that she could with diffi- 
 culty rally her wonted smiles. She ad- 
 vanced, however, with a held-out hand, 
 exclaiming, «* My dear Mrs. Delmere, I 
 am so overjoyed at the delightful accounts 
 of our beloved Emily's recovered health 
 and spirits, that I could not resist taking 
 the liberty to call and congratulate you 
 upon a more speedy restoration than we 
 could almost have dared to hope for." 
 
 " You are very obliging, Madam,*' no^ 
 seeming to see the proffered hand, " a 
 
f)6MESTIC SCENES. 5 
 
 Speedy restoration could only be un- 
 iooked-for by those who were not ac- 
 quainted with the firmness an d dignity 
 of my sister's mind : I should have con- 
 ceived you to have placed particular 
 reliance on it/' She was unconscious, in 
 saying this, of Lord Leonard's presence : 
 he had been stooping to look for a 
 pamphlet in the lower book-shelves by 
 Mr. Villars's direction, and was eclipsed 
 by the high back of the Merlin chair. 
 
 ** I assure you," returned Laura, " all 
 possible justice is done in our family to 
 her disinterested magnanimity, and no- 
 thing short of her example could have 
 inspired Charles" 
 
 Sophia, having at this moment per- 
 ceived Lord Leonard, broke into her 
 speech : " We will, if you please, call up 
 a subject of more general interest. Do 
 you know, my Lord, whether my brother 
 was prepared for a ride ? though, if you 
 will have the goodness to touch the bell, 
 we will at any rate send to him, that he 
 B 3 
 
b DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 may not lose the honour accident so for* 
 tunately offers him of attending Miss 
 Belmont." 
 
 This was uttered with a slight stress 
 upon the word accident, that completed 
 the discomfiture of Laura. Nothing 
 could be more just than Sophia's inter- 
 pretation of the visit; it had Henry solely 
 in view, of whose return she had only 
 heard from Lord Leonard the preceding 
 day. She had been returned herself 
 above a fortnight, without a thought of 
 these friendly congratulations having oc- 
 curred to her. 
 
 " Oh ! is Mr. Villars here ? I shall be 
 very glad, I'm sure !" she uttered with 
 an air so foolish and so unlike her accus- 
 tomed self-possession, that Lord Leonard 
 was struck with it, as well as with the 
 extraordinary dryness of Mrs. Delmere's 
 manner, so different from any thing he 
 had yet seen. 
 
 " Villars and I had planned a ride,'* 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 7 
 
 he replied, <* and I was waiting till he 
 should be equipped." 
 
 Before the servant could answer the 
 bell, Henry made his appearance. The 
 sight of him seemed to restore Laura's 
 self-command. ** How lucky," she cried, 
 " that my mother insisted on my taking 
 advantage of this first fine day since we 
 have been down ; a ride is so wonder- 
 fully improved by agreeable company — 
 I depend both on yours and Lord Leo- 
 nard's attendance, Mr. Villars." 
 
 " We had settled to wait upon you 
 for that purpose," he answered: ** Sophia, 
 won't you join us ?" 
 
 " I devote the early morning hours to 
 Agatha," was the reply, " and only take 
 my exercise when she can take it with 
 me." 
 
 " Mrs. Delmere is the slave of her du- 
 ties," said Laura. 
 
 ** I claim no such merit ; I simply 
 follow my inclinations," she returned. 
 
 " May I then hope they will soon draw 
 B 4 
 
8 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 you out of your retirement to favour us 
 with your company at the Park ?'' Laura 
 asked. 
 
 " Whenever I again venture into the 
 world, I shall consider it as a duty to 
 return the honour of this visit.'' 
 
 Laura, willing to display her amiable 
 forbearance in a strong light to Henry, 
 answered this dry speech with a depre- 
 cating look. " I must obtain your for- 
 giveness before we part, Mrs. Delmere," 
 she said, <* for what I perceive you con* 
 sider as an impertinent intrusion on your 
 retirement; but the real fact is, that I took 
 your removal to the Priory for a prelimi- 
 nary step to your return into the society 
 of your friends, if not the world ; and I 
 was anxious to put in my claim to be 
 considered in that light by the sister of 
 my dear Emily. I shall, however, re- 
 frain from a repetition of my forward- 
 ness, till you are inclined to give it 
 encouragement.'* 
 
 " You are very good, Miss Belmont : 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. S^ 
 
 be assured I see your motive in its true 
 light, and am proportionably grateful. 
 My leaving my cottage was merely to 
 assist in nursing my father ; and I shall 
 return to my seclusion the moment my 
 mother comes back, with no immediate 
 thoughts of further emerging from it." 
 
 Laura was effectually silenced. Cast- 
 ing her eye to the window, *^ There are 
 the horses," she observed. The gen- 
 tlemen only waited her commands, they 
 said. 
 
 Mr. Villars, looking up from his news- 
 paper, gave her such another nod as he 
 had done at her entrance, adding, "Well, 
 this was a very neighbourly call, Miss 
 Belmont; and here are females to make 
 you welcome till the return of the ab- 
 sentees, so we shall always be glad to see 
 you ; — and do spare Lord Leonard to us 
 whenever you can, for though I lost no 
 time in sending him a general invitation 
 by Hal, if you spread your attractions, 
 we shall not see half enough of him, and 
 
10 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 we will make over Hal to you in his 
 
 itead." 
 
 Laura gave some smiling indistinct 
 answer; and taking her leave, without 
 renewing the offer that had been over- 
 looked at her entrance, she departed with 
 her attendants. 
 
 *' What a charming young lady she is,'* 
 cried Katty, who had come in with 
 Henry : " Well, I do hope, from the bot- 
 tom of my heart, she will make an im- 
 pression upon my nephew at last. How 
 pretty of her to say what she did about 
 Emily, and your friendship, and thatl** 
 
 " Yes, she knows how to say pretty 
 things ; — but I have been kept a long 
 time from Agatha, so don't let me be 
 called down again this morning, dear 
 aunt." 
 
 And Sophia left the room, satisfied 
 with having given a decided repulse to 
 Laura, as well as to find Lord Leonard 
 exculpated, by what her father had said, 
 from the forwardness she had imputed to 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 11 
 
 him : the general invitation was unlucky, 
 but that she had not foreseen, and could 
 not remedy ; she now, however, deemed 
 it best to give no particular consequence 
 to it, by making any change in her own 
 conduct 
 
 B 6 
 
IS DOMESTIC SCENES, 
 
 CHAP. IL 
 
 *' How very cold Mrs. Delmere's man'- 
 ners are !" said Laura. 
 
 " I never tliought them so before this 
 morning," Lord Leonard replied. 
 
 " Possibly they may be different to 
 women from what they are to men," re- 
 joined Laura: '' is that the case, Mr... 
 Villars ?" 
 
 *' I am endeavouring to recollect whe- 
 ther this may be the anniversary of any 
 distressing event," said Henry, uncon- 
 scious of Sophia's suspicions of Laura: 
 " she certainly was particularly grave, 
 but I can assign no cause for it." 
 
 " Are her inequalities always assignable 
 to a cause?" Laura asked, with a sar- 
 castic smile. 
 
 *< Upon my word, I can as little accuse 
 her of caprice as any body I ever knew," 
 returned Henry. 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. IS 
 
 *« There is a natural openness and sin- 
 cerity about her I never saw equalled," 
 said Lord Leonard. 
 
 " A slight tincture of dissimulation 
 might at times prove more agreeable 
 though ; what a contrast with the dear 
 Emily !'* cried Laura. 
 
 *' Emily is the humble retiring violet,'* 
 Henry observed, '* unobtrusive of its 
 sweets, but well repaying those who seek 
 them." 
 
 *' Whilst Mrs. Delmere," said Lord 
 Leonard, animatedly, ** is the towering 
 spotless lily, offering its pure and lucid 
 hue to the eye of day, the more dazzling 
 the longer it is gazed on." 
 
 " How wonderous poetic !" exclaimed 
 Laura: " here's fine turf for a gallop 1" 
 and off she set. 
 
 She did not give her resentment « to 
 the winds,' like the * cares, doubts, and 
 fears' of Whiskerandosj on the contrary, 
 * she nursed her wrath to keep it warmj' 
 but the winds kindly befriended her by 
 
14 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 quickly puffing away all betraying indi- 
 cations from her countenance, which was 
 soon again dressedin smiles to be lavished, 
 ah, how vainly ! on the insensible Henry. 
 
 On alighting, she said, in lier sweetest 
 manner, ** I am not to allow myself to 
 propose your dining with us to-day, I 
 know; but keep in mind that Mr.Villars 
 admits of Lord Belmont's right to re- 
 prisals ; he will assuredly look for them 
 to-morrow, whether Lord Leonard be 
 again seduced from us or no." 
 
 How long Henry might have continued 
 secure against all the fascinating lures 
 of which she was so complete a mistress, 
 cannot very positively be asserted; for, 
 after all, he was not of adamant, and 
 the softening influences of gentle zephyrs 
 and purling streams are far better as- 
 sistants to the feelings Laura sought to 
 inspire, than balls and concerts in crowded 
 London rooms ; but he gained so power- 
 ful a support from the explanation his 
 sister had to give when he enquired into 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 15 
 
 the motives of her repulsive manner to 
 Laura that morning, as ever after made 
 him shrink from such hateful duplicity. 
 
 Mr. Villars, much pleased with his 
 guest at dinner, appeared in better spirits 
 and more free from suffering than he had 
 been at anytime since the departure of his 
 wife ; Sophia also, relieved from the idea 
 of Lord Leonard's intrusion's having any 
 particular reference to herself, and much 
 pleased with her success in foiling Laura, 
 was uncommonly animated, so that the 
 conversation took a very agreeable turn; 
 in the course of it Lord Leonard, having 
 quoted some little poetical effusion of his 
 elder brother's, Lord Cranmore, added, 
 ** He will suit you perfectly, Villars: he's 
 quite as much of a bookworm as your- 
 self: I shall be impatient to make 
 you acquainted : we expect him home 
 shortly." 
 
 *« Has he been long absent?" 
 " Better than two years : he went 
 abroad for his health, and soon recovered 
 
IG DOMESTIC SCENES* 
 
 it ; but lie has since been pursuing litei 
 rary researches, and wtd witliout end, in 
 the Grecian Isles. I must forewarn you, 
 though, that you may be more than once 
 in company with him before you will be 
 inclined to give him any credit beyond 
 what the Frenchman was so struck with in 
 hisEnglish friend, ^unbeau talent pour le si- 
 lence,^ unless his travels may have polished" 
 him a little. He w^as the shyest of the 
 shy, particularly in female company. If I 
 should be allowed the happiness to pre- 
 sent him to Mrs. Delmere, I must entreat 
 her not to prejudge him.'* 
 
 ** I think," Sophia observed, '* the si- 
 lence of a man who is unwilling to speak 
 is very distinguishable from that of one 
 who has nothing to say.'* 
 
 " There certainly is such a thing as in- 
 telligent silence," replied Lord Leonard ; 
 " but it is not your every-day observer 
 that will detect it. I might safely have 
 rested his cause here, however." 
 
 On their adjourning to coifee, Mr. 
 17 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 17 
 
 Vitlars challenged Lord Leonard to a 
 game at chess: he was a most desirable 
 antagonist ; for, although fully equal in 
 point of play, he lost many a game by 
 letting his attention be drawn off to the 
 slightest word that fell from Sophia. 
 
 On their beginning their game, she had 
 brought out her portfolio to fill in a 
 pencil sketch ; and placed herself so ^s to 
 have the command of the chess-board, by 
 which means she also, unintentionally, 
 got the entire command of Lord Leonard's 
 thoughts, for he could not raise his eyes 
 without their falling upon her. 
 
 Aunt Katty was busily employed in 
 finishing some baby-linen for a poor 
 woman in the village y and Henry having 
 strayed to the farther end of the room, 
 was solicited by Agatha to let her see 
 some pretty prints. Having ^ the Lady of 
 the Lake' in his hand, he showed her 
 Loch Katt'rine ; — a perfect silence pre- 
 vailed, when all at once the child eagerly 
 exclaimed, *« O, dear Henry ! do you 
 
18 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 know just here," pointing with her finger, 
 " it is so like where 1 fell into the water at 
 Rock Castle." 
 
 " What's that you say, Agatha ?" cried 
 Sophia. 
 
 " Oh ! I didn't know you heard rae, 
 aunty. 
 
 *' How came you never to tell rae of 
 your having had a fall into the water ?" 
 
 ** Because Sir Edward said I must 
 not." 
 
 " Was Sir Edward with you when it 
 happened ?" 
 
 " O yes, aunty : t'was he took me out." 
 
 «* Do come hither, my child, and let 
 me hear how it happened." 
 
 « Why, I was riding on pony, and 
 Tom Groom was riding with me ; but he 
 didn't much mind because he was getting 
 blackberries, so I went along the nar- 
 row path by the side of the water ; so 
 pony wanced to drink, and so I was letting 
 him, and Tom called to me not, because 
 he would lie down ; but I didn't hear what 
 he said, because he was such a great way 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 19 
 
 off, all among the bushes on the top of 
 the bank ; so, directly he called, Po lay 
 down in the water, and rolled me off/' 
 
 Sophia shuddered, and turned pale. 
 
 " Your Lordship is either out of prac- 
 tice," Mr. Villars observed somewhat pet- 
 tishly, *^ or don't deem me worth setting 
 your strength against j you make no 
 battle at all !" 
 
 ** I beg your pardon, indeed !" replied 
 Lord Leonard, ** I could not help attend- 
 ing to the account of poor Miss Agatha's 
 danger." 
 
 «* What danger?" enquired Mr. Villars, 
 too much absorbed in the game to have 
 heard one syllable of what had been say- 
 ing just at his ear. 
 
 It was repeated to him. 
 
 ** But you said Sir Edward Arundel 
 took you out, Agatha ?" resumed Sophia : 
 " where was he then ?" 
 
 ** Why, he was somewhere higher up, 
 on the bank a-reading ; but he didn't 
 see me, but he heard Tom call, so 
 then he looked, and he saw me kicking 
 
20 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 and sprawling in the water ; and' I 
 could'nt scream, you know, because the 
 water came all into my mouth so; and 
 then he came running and jumping from 
 one place to another, for it was all rocks 
 and stonesyouknow, so that Tom could'nt 
 get down •, and then he took me out; and 
 Tom said he wondered he did'nt break 
 his neck, it was such a dangerous place/* 
 
 Sophia drawing the child nearer, and 
 hugging her to her breast, exclaimed, 
 " O my darling I little did I imagine 
 how near I had been to losing you V 
 
 " Well, it was very pretty of Sir Edward 
 Arundel, I must say," cried Katty ; "but 
 I'm afraid you got shockingly wet for all 
 that." 
 
 " Yes that I did, but then he carried 
 me in his arms to the house, and had me 
 put to bed, and made it be warmed, and 
 then he was so angry with Winny, but 
 poor Winny couldn't help it tho' : she 
 cried very bad indeed when she saw what 
 had happened ; for I had run away from 
 her, for Tom to take me on Po without 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. SI 
 
 the leading rein ; and she wouldn't have 
 let me if she had known." 
 
 ** And then Sir Edward forbade you to 
 let me know it ?" said Sophia. 
 
 ** No, not then, that was one day when 
 I was a-going tp have Betsy hold my hand 
 to write to you, and then he said he 
 would hold my hand himself, and that 
 made me love him so, for being so good- 
 natured; and then he said, now we mustn't 
 say any thing about falling into the water, 
 for that would frighten auntDelmere: 
 she would always be thinking it might 
 happen again." 
 
 *' How very kind and considerate !" 
 said Sophia ; ** but he didn't forbid you 
 to tell me when you came home ?" 
 
 " Yes he did afterwards: when we was 
 on the road he said, * We won't say one 
 word of the story of the lake to Mrs. Del- 
 mere, my little Agg;' so I said, * why not? 
 it wouldn't frighten her now, you know ;' 
 so he said, * but it would get poor Winny 
 anger, and he had been angry enough at 
 
^2 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 her himself;* so I said, you wasn't never 
 angry afterwards ;' so he said, « but may 
 be you would think you must thank him> 
 and he shouldn't like you to thank him ; 
 wasn't that very odd of him ?" 
 
 " He robbed me of a very great plea- 
 sure by it," said Sophia, a ray of anima- 
 tion overspreading her fine features. 
 
 " Dear me, yes! and himself too, I 
 think," cried Katty. So thought Lord 
 Leonard, but not exactly in the sense 
 that followed ; " for where's the use of 
 doing a kindness, I should be glad to 
 know," she continued, " if one isn't to 
 be thanked for it? I've no notion of 
 that." 
 
 *< A case of this sort might help one 
 to some notion of the use, too !" Henry 
 observed with a smile. 
 
 <« But Katt's of opinion, you see, that 
 the only reason for saving a child from 
 drowning is the thanks you are to get for 
 it," said Mr. Villars, drolling. 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 23 
 
 " No no, not so neither ; but thanks 
 can do no harm that I see for all that." 
 
 Neither Sophia nor Lord Leonard 
 spoke : their minds were full, hers with 
 gratitude and strong approbation of Sir 
 Edward's active kindness, and extreme 
 delicacy ; and his with apprehension of 
 the bias this might give in favour of one 
 who had already occurred to his thoughts 
 as a possible rival. 
 
 " Come !" cried Mr. Villars, " now 
 let's have another game ; since little Agg 
 is safe and sound here, we can all feel 
 our obligation to Sir Edward without 
 letting him spoil our sport." 
 
 " O, but I havn't told you the worst 
 of all tho'," resumed Agatha ; " for, do 
 you know, he made poor Tom be turned 
 away !" 
 
 " That worst a good deal enhances 
 the obligation from your account of Tom, 
 Agatha," said Sophia, speaking more to 
 her own feelings just then, than to the 
 comprehension of the child. 
 
24 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 " But I was very sorry, indeed ; for 
 Winny wouldn't never let me go into the 
 stables again, when there was a new 
 groom ; and she said. Sir Edward had 
 forbid her to let me/' 
 
 *« Well, do hold your little chatter about 
 it now,'* said Mr. Villars: <« Lord Leo- 
 nard can't play a stroke for you : there's 
 check-mate again ! — no glory in beating 
 you to-night !" pushing the chess-board 
 from him. 
 
 " No ! I fear I have tired your patience 
 indeed ; not seeing when my pieces 
 were in prise; I am quite out of practice, 
 and could'nt command my attention." 
 
 " It's always the effect of lookers on," 
 returned Mr. Villars ; " but I'll tell you 
 what we'll do to-morrow ; we'll have it 
 all to ourselves in my study, and leave 
 them to their prosings." 
 
 Had he happened to raise his eyes in 
 saying this, he might have seen cause to 
 conjecture that an uninterrupted game 
 at chess was not the object nearest to 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 2$ 
 
 Lord Leonard's heart ; but they were 
 rivetted on the check-mate he had just 
 given, and he added, **I don't see, indeed, 
 why we might not have our coffee sent 
 to us there." 
 
 " I think, my dear Sir, in your present 
 state of health, such very close attention 
 immediately after dinner, would not be 
 adviseablej" was Lord Leonard's observ- 
 ation. 
 
 Mr. Villars was something averse to a 
 suggestion, unless, indeed, it originated 
 with himself, and then pretty tenacious 
 of it : he testily answered, *< It is said, 
 you know, that a man must be a fool, or 
 his own physician, at forty ; now as I do 
 not subscribe to the first, I beg leave to 
 take my own opinion as to the other." 
 
 " I think," said Henry, wishing to 
 draw his friend's attention from this pet- 
 tishness, as well as to place him in a 
 favourable light to Sophia — " 1 think it's 
 a pity the test of chess or dice, to which 
 a suitor used to be put in days of yore 
 
 VOL. n. c 
 
26 DOMESTIC SCENES- 
 
 as a trial of temper before he could ob- 
 tain a lady in marriage, should have be- 
 come obsolete : what an undeniable claim 
 your lordship's would be, who take re- 
 peated defeats so philosophically !" 
 
 But this was thrown away upon Sophia, 
 whose thoughts had wandered from the 
 chess-board, far as the banks of the lake 
 at Rock Castle could draw them ; and 
 very little satisfaction did Lord Leonard 
 derive during the remainder of the even- 
 ing from his attempts to engage her in 
 conversation. 
 
 A considerable accession of visitors at 
 Belmont Park on the following day caused 
 him to feel himself at liberty to resort again 
 to the Priory ; at least, he might make the 
 enquiry after Mr. Villars's health towards 
 the dinner hour there, and, if not desired 
 to stay, he should still be in time, he 
 thought, for the more fashionable party. 
 
 He was instantly laid hold of, however, 
 by Mr. Villars : " We want you doubly 
 to-day, 'he said, <« on account of Henry's 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 2? 
 
 having engaged himself to dine with our 
 neighbours, and then we'll have our set^ 
 to at chess in comfort." 
 
 As coffee-time approached, Lord Leo- 
 nard was revolving how best to ward off 
 the proposed adjournment to the study, 
 when a sudden increase of pain in the 
 invalid settled the matter at once, and he 
 was obliged to be removed into his own 
 room, lamenting as he went that " he 
 had no chance of a head for chess that 
 evening ; if he became easier, he would 
 be wheeled back to the piano-forte, and 
 Sophia should charm away the sense of 
 pain with her voice." 
 
 She had not unfrequently done so 
 during her stay with him ; and so asked, 
 could not well decline it now, though the 
 presence of a stranger made her feel re- 
 luctant. This was an attraction to which 
 her admirer had not yet been exposed ; 
 he had uninterruptedly enjoyed the 
 charms of her conversation for the last 
 few hours; and when, in addition to these, 
 c 2 
 
28 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 her father came to call for the song, such 
 combined powers of sound and sense 
 wholly subdued him. 
 
 Day after day now passed, and still 
 Lord Leonard dined at the Priory, either 
 to supply the place of Henry when he 
 was at the Park, or to enjoy the company 
 of Henry when he was at home; and at 
 the expiration of the fortnight he had not 
 the slightest suspicion of never having 
 devoted a single day, after the first, to hi& 
 hosts. 
 
 It had been cursorily remarked by 
 Lord and Lady Belmont, but lost sight 
 of in the succession and daily variety of 
 their guests. It had been felt by Laura, 
 but having for some time seen little hope 
 of captivating Lord Leonard, she satisfied 
 herself with the prospect of turning her 
 displeasure to better account than by be- 
 traying it. 
 
 Lord Leonard continued to conduct 
 himself with such delicate regard to pro« 
 priety as to give no apparent cause for 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 29 
 
 g^reater reserve of manners on the part 
 ef Sophia, than she would have shown to 
 any other visitor of her father*s. Still 
 she could not but be aware, that neither 
 chess nor politics were his object, for 
 whenever he could with any degree of 
 civility do it, he evaded both ; neither 
 could the visits be attributed to Henry, 
 for lie was as often there without as with 
 him. In consequence of these observ- 
 ations, she drew back from conversation 
 more than she had done, and latterly 
 made Agatha the excuse for absenting 
 herself for a couple of hours in the 
 evening. 
 
 Her reserve increased, when she found 
 that upon a sudden call of the Belmonts 
 to town. Lord Leonard was about to pro- 
 long his stay by accepting of an invitation 
 from a fox-hunting neighbour of theirs : 
 tlie change in her behaviour was now so 
 marked as to alarm him. 
 
 ^* Have I been so unfortunate, as in 
 c 3 
 
30^ DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 any way to have offended you, Mrs. Del- 
 mere ?'* he asked in evident emotion as 
 they chanced to be left for a few minutes 
 alone. 
 
 <* Not in the least, my lord !'* 
 " There is a change in your manner 
 that cuts me to the soul i" 
 
 " I confess it has a motive, though not 
 such as you assign." 
 
 <« And will you not explain it ?*' 
 *« I think, my lord, you will not misin- 
 terpret my frankness ; I will, therefore, 
 honestly tell you, that I shrink from the 
 fear of a misconstruction being put on 
 the frequency of your visits. I found 
 myself exposed to very malicious observ- 
 ation in this neighbourhood from the un« 
 avoidable intercourse I was obliged to 
 hold with Sir Edward Arundel on Aga- 
 tha's account ; and the consequence has 
 been my feeling it necessary to shut my 
 door against him. The absence of my 
 mother and sister might now again ex- 
 pose me to similar animadversions.'* 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. ^ 
 
 « And do you mean," he interrupted, 
 ** to exclude man for ever from your 
 society, lest the tongue of malice should 
 accuse you of intending, at some time or 
 other, to restore to the world charnas so 
 calculated to adorn it ?*' 
 
 " I have done with the world, Lord 
 Leonard ; the remainder of my days will 
 be devoted to the remembrance of hap- 
 piness lost — Oh ! how irreparably lost !*' 
 
 Seeing her extremely affected as she 
 uttered these words, he judged it was not 
 a moment for any thing but implicit 
 submission to her will : " Be assured your 
 slightest hint will ever be to me a law," 
 he said; " for worlds would I not occa- 
 sion you an uneasy thought ! I will ac- 
 company the Belmonts to town." 
 
 She attempted to give him a smile of 
 thanks, but it was so fraught with woe, 
 it pained him to the heart, and greatly 
 damped the exultation with which he 
 had heard her say, her door was shut 
 against Sir Edward Arundel, 
 c 4 
 
32 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 He set off as he had promised, and 
 Henry forthwith returned to his post at 
 Torquay, till the beginning of term again 
 should recall him to his chambers in the 
 Temple. 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. S3 
 
 CHAP. IIL 
 
 The mention of Sir Edward Arundel in 
 the conclusion of the last chapter will, 
 perhaps, excite some curiosity to ascer- 
 tain the use he may all this while have 
 been making of the liberty he so triumph 
 antly boasted of having recovered. 
 
 Ah ! reader, you possibly know full 
 well, that 'tis not thus the daring imp, 
 who has so slily and so successfully cir- 
 cumvented his purposes, will suffer him 
 to shake off his trammels. Whatever ex- 
 ultation he had felt in being «< himself 
 again," it was a boast which for the last 
 few years had afforded him but slender 
 comfort, though for the first twenty-four 
 hours, his self-gratulations upon his recent 
 escape continued in full force, and he 
 c 5 
 
34 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 dwelt with no slight sensation of pride 
 on his conquest over the weakness that 
 had again gone so near to subdue him. 
 
 During the whole of this time, (i.e. 
 twenty-four hours,) he had sedulously 
 applied himself to banish Mrs. Delmere 
 from his thoughts, by fixing them, not 
 only on the arts and treachery of Miss 
 Vyner, but on every other instance of 
 female duplicity he had ever heard or 
 read of ^ but along witli the remembrance 
 of Sophia, he had also banished, and per- 
 chance somewhat more effectually, the 
 recollection of an auxiliary to heroism, so 
 avowedly potent, as to have been cele- 
 brated, both in verse and prose, by abler 
 pens than mine j and this was *food; 
 
 * Was ever Tartar fierce and cruel 
 Upon the strength of water-gruel ? 
 But who shall stand his rage and force, 
 If first he rides , then eats his hor^e. Prior. 
 There is also a story upon record (though the 
 author cannot now recollect where), that a phy- 
 sician having asserted the effects of different kinds of 
 food upori animal qourage, a caliph appointed the 
 
DOMESTIC SCET^ES. 35 
 
 for he had taken none: and during those 
 hours of the twenty-four which are com- 
 monly devoted to another *' soother of 
 the troubled breast," he had also most 
 contemptuously bade him defiance, and 
 not even sought his pillow. 
 
 The consequences, however, of all 
 this magnanimous inattention to the crav- 
 ings of nature, were not so satisfactory, 
 A languor and a derehction of mental 
 discipline stole over his enfeebled frame, 
 and the image of Sophia forthwith re- 
 sumed its post ; and when his thoughts 
 retraced that candid, open countenance, 
 that dignified simplicity of manners, so 
 peculiarly her own, he knew not how to 
 combine them with the most remote idea 
 of art or duplicity. Still, however, the 
 evidence had been so unequivocal ; the 
 
 ■experiment to be made on a remarkably fierce 
 Arabian robber, who had been made prisoner, and 
 who, by dint of lowering diet, was reduced to such 
 a state of nervous debility, as at length to tremble 
 at the very opening of a door. 
 C 6 
 
36 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 conversation between Miss Belmont and 
 Lady Sabina, which chance had so for- 
 tunately brought to his ear, so unin- 
 tentionally too ! (for he had observed 
 Laura check an attempt of Lady Sabina's 
 to continue it,) ; and after that, the 
 positive assertion of Mrs. Villars in con- 
 tradiction to it next morning j and 
 Agatha ; and the dog ; and Mrs. Ka- 
 tharine j all, all concurred in establish- 
 ing the thing beyond a possibility of 
 doubt. He could not conceive his own 
 weakness in resisting the conviction. 
 
 His former nervous sufferings now 
 returned with increased strength, and a 
 restlessness, so insupportable, took pos- 
 session of him, that he finally determined 
 to force himself into action by volunteer- 
 ing his services to the Peninsula. 
 
 Perfectly listless and dilatory in his 
 preparations, and delaying his application 
 from day to day, he chanced one morning 
 to meet Charles Belmont, as, " with so- 
 lemn step and slow,*' he was dragging 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 37 
 
 his weary existence along Grosvenor 
 Square. 
 
 Charles, struck with the extraordinary 
 change in his appearance, and still some- 
 what alive to any thing that brought the 
 Priory to his recollection, stopped Sir 
 Edward j and, after some common-place 
 civilities, they walked on together. As 
 they were about to separate, Charles 
 said, " I wish you would join our dinner 
 party to-day. You want to dissipate a 
 little ; nothing is so effectual against low 
 spirits ; and it's a set of oddities that are 
 got together for a decision upon this 
 famous wager.'' 
 
 ** Famous wager !" Sir Edward re- 
 peated, scarce knowing what he said, and 
 little caring. 
 
 " Yes ; of course you heard of it ; 
 between Sir Tristram Traverse and Mor- 
 gan, you know, about getting introduced 
 to Mrs. Delmere." 
 
 Now, indeed. Sir Edward was alive to 
 the subject. He asked an explanation, 
 
38 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 which was so fully given, and produced 
 a revolution so overpowering in his feel- 
 ings, that he was under the necessity of 
 having recourse to the area rails for 
 support. 
 
 ''You are illl'' cried Charles; "let 
 me step into the Mount coffee-house, and 
 get something to recover you." 
 
 They did so ; and Sir Edward so far 
 recovered his powers of utterance as to 
 decline the proposal for dinner, declare 
 himself subject to these nervous spasms, 
 and thank Belmont for his offered attend- 
 ance home, which he would not admit of 
 upon any account. Eager to be alone, 
 his full heart ready to burst, he rather 
 ran than walked, till he again reached 
 his own dwelling, and could throw him- 
 self upon his sofa, to unravel the confu- 
 sion of his brain, which was now more 
 bewildered with delight, than it had be- 
 fore been with despondency. 
 
 Now, indeed, did the bright image of 
 Sophia again rise before him, in all the 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 39 
 
 splendour of its pristine dignity, its 
 consistency, its matchless excellence. 
 Adoration was too poor a word to express 
 the reparation due for the degrading mis- 
 conceptions he had allowed himself to 
 harbour. Her unrivalled merits were 
 the more striking, for the cloud that 
 had veiled them from his sight ; all 
 was now clear as day; and the very 
 mode of her extrication from Sir Tris- 
 tram's last impudent attempt, by throw- 
 ing herself upon the protection of Lord 
 Leonard Ormsby, was an instance of 
 presence of mind, so much beyond what 
 could have occurred to any other woman, 
 ' — it was so calculated to make an im- 
 pression upon Lord Leonard ; no won- 
 der it should have acted so powerfully 
 upon his feelings ! Well might he be in 
 love! what mortal could behold her and 
 escape it I but far, far be it from him to 
 suspect her of having given encourage- 
 ment to that love : hard, indeed, would 
 it be to tax her with effects she could not 
 
40 DOMESTIC SCENES* 
 
 be seen without producing. No ! so de- 
 cidedly were her affections buried in the 
 tomb of her husband, that long and assi- 
 duous indeed must be the passionate 
 devotion that could ever aspire again to 
 recall them thence. 
 
 Having thus ruminated away his rais^ 
 conceptions, as well as his fears of Lord 
 Leonard, nothing now seemed to remain, 
 but to take the wings of the morning and 
 fly to the Priory, to make amende honorable 
 at the pure shrine of the goddess of his 
 idolatry. 
 
 But Sir Edward's was true love, and 
 that is no inspirer of bold proceedings 
 with its object. His mind was no sooner 
 released from the tortures to which it had 
 lately been a prey, than all the train of 
 doubts and fears and diifidence of his own 
 merit, inseparable from the sentiments 
 that filled his heart, again resumed their 
 empire ; together with a very reasonable 
 dread, that any step which might prema- 
 turely betray the real state of his feelings 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. , 41 
 
 would banish him from Sophia's friendly 
 confidence for ever. He found it so 
 very difficult to frame any plausible ex- 
 cuse for an abrupt return to the Priory, 
 after tlie unjustifiable manner in which 
 he had left it, that he at length deter- 
 mined upon the self-denying plan, cost 
 him what it might, of adhering to his 
 Christmas engagement at Rock Castle 5 
 and from thence, messages and commu- 
 nications respecting Agatha might give a 
 colour to his subsequent visit, even in 
 the absence of Mrs. Villars, (which ab- 
 sence had also been taken into the con- 
 sideration of difficulties,) and serve to 
 guard him against Mrs. Delmere's pene* 
 tration. 
 
 To Rock Castle he, therefore, went: it 
 is needless to say, that all thoughts of 
 the Peninsula vanished from his mind. 
 
 At his return in January, he was un- 
 avoidably detained in London by some 
 law concerns entrusted to him by Mr 
 
42 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 Arundel, daring which time the Belmont 
 family removed to town. 
 
 Now no longer avoiding those cir- 
 cles of fashion so lately his abhorrence, 
 he accepted of an invitation to dinner at 
 a house, where chance placed him next 
 to Laura Belmont at table. It was not 
 till after the servants had left the room, 
 and the conversation had become so ge- 
 neral, as to give hirn the hope of being 
 heard only by the person whom he ad- 
 dressed, that he ventured to begin a dis- 
 tant enquiry, by ** hoping that her friend, 
 Miss Villars, had found material benefit 
 from her residence at the sea-side." 
 
 " Perfectly recovered,'* answered Laura : 
 judging, from the tremulous tone of Sir 
 Edward's voice, what would come next, 
 and unwilling to appear in haste with 
 what she meant to communicate, she said 
 no more. 
 
 " Mrs. Villars, I also understood to 
 have been unwell." 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 43 
 
 " She is wonderfully better too, as 
 her son informed me." 
 
 ** Mr. Henry Villars is then returned 
 to the Priory?*' he said in a tone of 
 satisfaction, feeling that Henry's pre- 
 sence would be an advantage to his 
 views. 
 
 <* Of course," she replied, carelessly; 
 " it could not otherwise have been con- 
 sistent with Mrs. Delmere's strict atten- 
 tion to decorum, to have Lord Leonard 
 Ormsby so constantly there." 
 
 ** Lord Leonard Ormsby !" he repeat- 
 ed in a tone of such agitated surprise as 
 he could not immediately command. 
 
 " Yes ; I thought you had known," 
 she said, *' or I should not have be- 
 trayed; though I fancy it can hardly now 
 be deemed indiscretion to mention, what 
 there seems to be no farther attempt to 
 conceal. It is, however, generally be- 
 lieved in the neighbourhood, that she 
 will be guided by her own professions of 
 consistency, in not giving him her hand 
 
44 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 till the second year of her widowhood is 
 completed." 
 
 Laura had again succeeded to her 
 heart's content; Sir Edward Arundel 
 being wholly silenced, and scarce able to 
 command himself, till the ladies leaving 
 the table gave him an opportunity of 
 withdrawing on pretence of business ; 
 when he returned once more to his sofa, 
 the veriest wretch, that the most genuine, 
 ardent, and most severely disappointed 
 passion could make him. 
 
 It was not simply envy and malice 
 prepense, nor yet the mere spirit of fe- 
 male revenge for disappointed preten- 
 sions, but the combination of these various 
 feelings working in a mind unprovided 
 with a single counteracting principle, 
 that prompted Laura to this precious 
 mischief. 
 
 In her present elevated views, even the 
 credit of subduing Sir Edward Arundel 
 was no longer of primary importance ; 
 and Henry Villars was scarcely worth a 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 4^ 
 
 second thought, beyond that of the glory 
 naturally resulting from the number of' 
 aspiring candidates, which her new ho- 
 nours and new connections could not fail 
 to produce. For the preparations were 
 now making for the speedy celebration of 
 her brother's wedding with Lady Sabina, 
 and the patent creating her father Earl of 
 Saltland was immediately to follow ; in 
 consequence of which, Lady Laura Belr 
 mont expected to burst upon the world 
 at the ensuing drawing-room, with an 
 increase of attraction that could leave no 
 room for doubt of her own brilliant esta- 
 blishment in the course of the winter. 
 
 The wedding took place at the ap^ 
 pointed period; and Lord Cranmore, 
 eldest son of the Marquis of Kingsbo- 
 rough, arrived just in time for its cele- 
 bration. The earldom was gazetted ; and 
 the new Earl and Countess of Saltland, 
 and Lady Laura Belmont, with a suite of 
 at least fifty titled relations, attended the 
 presentation of Lord Belmont and Lady 
 
46 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 Sabina upon their marriage. Nothing 
 was wanting that splendour and mag- 
 nificence could impart to heighten the 
 glories of the day. The drawing-room 
 was crowded to suffocation, — no other 
 topic was discussed in the fashionable 
 circles but the dresses and the beauty of 
 Lady Sabina and Lady Laura, — the 
 newspapers took up " the wondrous tale" 
 next morning, with every appropriate 
 epithet that could adorn and give it cur- 
 rency, not only throughout this kingdom, 
 but to the remotest corners of Europe. 
 
 Triumphant beauties! enjoy your hour! 
 short-lived as every triumph where the 
 eye only is concerned! Could these 
 brilliant gratifications reach Charles Bel- 
 mont's heart ? Alas ! it was no longer 
 the heart which Emily's youthful fancy 
 had decorated with such imaginary per- 
 fections. As her image had faded from 
 his thoughts, with it had faded those 
 qualities which the purity and simplicity 
 of her mind had alone impressed upon 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 4? 
 
 his/ Ambition, indeed, stept in, and 
 afforded Lord Belmont a momentary 
 gleam of what he mistook for happiness. 
 Flattery and fashion lent their aid to pro- 
 long the illusion ; and, in a very short 
 period, to work an alteration both of 
 manners and feelings, such as will scarcely 
 be credited by those who have not turned 
 an attentive eye to the rapid inroads of 
 example and association upon a vain un^ 
 settled mind. 
 
 The news of this marriage confirmed 
 the recovery of Emily. The precipit- 
 ancy of it sunk Belmont to his true level 
 in her esteem. From that moment she 
 never suffered her thoughts to rest upon 
 any recollections of him, but as such ob- 
 truded, sedulously sought to counteract 
 them by employments the most likely to 
 engross her attention ; and, by the time 
 of her return to the Priory, she had suc- 
 ceeded so well in her laudable self-con- 
 troul, as to be able to revisit the scenes 
 of their former intimacy, if not wholly 
 
48 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 without a pang, at least without any re- 
 trospection sufficiently distressing to im- 
 pede the returning serenity of her mind. 
 It can scarcely be necessary to dwell 
 on the raptures experienced at the Priory 
 in the re-union of the family, any more 
 than upon the " confusion worse con- 
 founded,'^ which joy occasioned in the 
 brain of aunt Katty, though it must be 
 confessed, that the heartfelt satisfaction 
 which glowed on the cheek of Sophia was 
 not wholly unmixed with wonder at her 
 sister's inconceivable triumph over her 
 own feelings, which she was more than 
 half-tempted to doubt having been as 
 strong as they had appeared. 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. ' 49 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 In the communication Katty had to 
 make of the extraordinary occurrences 
 of the neighbourhood during so many 
 months, she mentioned a pretty little 
 hunting-box, within a couple of miles of 
 the Priory, called Box-Mount, having 
 been lately let, to nobody knew who, 
 which caused abundance of speculation 
 among the neighbours, not without very 
 reasonable fears, that some naughty body 
 might be brought there ; for it was a 
 single gentleman on horseback who had 
 been to look at it, and his servant called 
 him my lord, and he had ordered one 
 of the rooms to be fitted up with crib- 
 beds for children, and " as she couldn't 
 hear,*' she added, *« that he was par- 
 
 VOL. II. D 
 
50 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 ticularly married, she thought it didn't 
 look so well," 
 
 There were so many subjects of interest 
 to discuss after so long an absence, that 
 the circumstance attracted but slight 
 notice. 
 
 The uncommon mildness of the 
 weather had contributed to remove all 
 remaining symptoms of gout from Mr. 
 Villars, and restore him to his accustomed 
 enjoyments. The bright warm sun had 
 tempted him to be wheeled out upon the 
 lawn, where the first notes of the thrush 
 exhilarated his spirits, whilst admiring 
 the various specimens of early vegetation 
 as brought to him by one or other of 
 those about him. In the intervals, Sophia 
 and her mother were taking it in turn to 
 read to him. Aunt Katty was busily 
 employed the while in gathering ground- 
 ivy for a sick villager, when all at 
 once she uttered a scream of surprise 
 and pleasure, followed by the exclam- 
 ation of " Merciful goodness! — niece 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 51 
 
 Delmere, if here is'nt Lord Leonard 
 come back to us 1" and then addressing 
 him, who by this time had reached the 
 spot where she was, she added " To be 
 sure, my lord, there could never have 
 been a more agreeable addition than 
 your lordship to our, family-party, 
 making it quite complete, as I may say, 
 except for the absence of Henry.'* 
 
 Not a little encouraged by a speech of 
 such happy omen, he made a very kind 
 reply to her salutation, and proceeded to 
 introduce his brother, Lord Cranmore, 
 whose appearance quite answered, Sophia 
 thought, to the impression Lord Leonard 
 had given of him : — a tall, genteel, quiet- 
 looking man, with a very sensible ex- 
 pression of countenance, and a very 
 retired manner 5 a silent bow followed 
 his introduction to each individual, but 
 he left civil speeches and explanations 
 to his brother. 
 
 Lord Leonard said, that " Lord Cran- 
 more's fondness for coursing had induced 
 D 2 
 
 iJHlVERSITY 0^ 
 
 II f INniC r .r>r>»^., 
 
52 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 him to take a little box in this fine sport' 
 ing country, which was so near the 
 Priory, that having come down together, 
 he could not resist seizing upon the very 
 first opportunity of introducing him to 
 such interesting neighbours.'* 
 
 ** As sure as I'm alive," cried Katty,. 
 <* its Box-Mount Cottage that your 
 lordship means ; and you can't think 
 what a world of conjectures there is in 
 this neighbourhood about it !" 
 
 <* Then it will be an agreeable exer- 
 cise of your good-nature, Mrs. Katha- 
 rine," returned Lord Leonard, *' to allay 
 all curiosity by repeating what I have 
 just said ; though, for the present, Cran- 
 more has lent the use of it to a friend for 
 the recovery of some sick children." 
 
 " Only think how it's all explained 
 now !" exclaimed Katty; ** such a parcel 
 of nonsensical stories as have got 
 about!" — 
 
 " My good Mrs. Katharine," he in- 
 terrupted, " I have seen enough of 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. ^3 
 
 country villages to know what an inex- 
 haustible fund of gossip a new-comer 
 supplies ; I am, therefore, particularly- 
 happy that the information of my brother's 
 taste for coursing, enables you to make 
 it all clear." 
 
 " Your lordship may rely upon my 
 making it clear, without loss of time, to 
 every creature I meet with !" said Katty; 
 and away she scudded. 
 
 A tendency to a smile stole over the 
 features of Lord Cranmore, which his 
 politeness instantaneously checked j nei- 
 ther the inclination nor the suppression 
 escaped the notice of Sophia. 
 
 In the course of a pretty long visit, 
 Lord Cranmore had exactly verified his 
 brother's prediction by never opening his 
 lips. On their taking leave, Mr. Villars 
 pressed their staying to dinner, which 
 was declined ; but the invitation accepted 
 of for the next day. 
 
 So far all had succeeded to Lord Leo- 
 nard's wish ; for the reader need scarcely 
 D 8 
 
54 dojvjestic scenes. 
 
 be told that the taking this hunting-box 
 was a manoeuvre of his, though, from his 
 not having been explicit as to the motive, 
 his brother had experienced some surprise 
 to hear of his own'predilection for ccfurs- 
 ing, being a propensity he had Bot yet 
 detected in himself: however, his quiet 
 observation soon let him into the secret 
 of Lord Leonard's particular admiration 
 of the Hampshire-downs. 
 
 The following day passed very agree- 
 ably ; Sophia not having been allowed to 
 excuse herself, as she wished to have 
 done, from being of the party, as her 
 father was peremptory on the subject. 
 
 In the afternoon, Agatha applied to 
 Mrs. Villars for a sight of a drawing of 
 Emily's she had heard mentioned. It 
 represented an interesting occurrence, 
 to which she had been an eye-witness, in 
 Devonshire, and Mrs. Villars related it. 
 
 A pleasure-boat was upset in the sight 
 of a young woman, who had walked to 
 the beach expecting her lover to land 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. S& 
 
 from it, — her increasing terror as she 
 failed to recognise him in any of the half- 
 drowned passengers who were brought to 
 shore, — her subsequent fainting upon 
 hearing! one of the by-standers assert, 
 that if he were among them he must be 
 gone to the bottom, — and her being re- 
 covered by the assiduous cares of the 
 very young man she had believed lost,— 
 were all affectingly narrated by Mrs. 
 Villars. Emily had seized the moment 
 of returning life in her drawing, when a 
 sort of doubtful rapture overspread the 
 countenance of the girl on perceiving 
 her lover hanging over her, and given it 
 extraordinary effect. 
 
 Lord Cranmore had raised his eyes 
 from the drawing to the artist, at the mo- 
 ment of Mrs/ Villars 's describing the mute 
 agony of the poor girl before she became 
 insensible, and beheld, in the countenance 
 of Emily ' quel vago impallidir,' that 
 silent but unequivocal witness of genuine 
 sensibility so happily touched upon by 
 D ^ 
 
50 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 Petrarch, — so untranslatable into the 
 English language, yet so peculiarly 
 adapted to strike upon an English heart! 
 — and it did strike, in its fullest force, 
 upon that of Lord Cranmore ! His re- 
 marks upon the composition and exe- 
 cution of the drawing proved him to be 
 a connoisseur. Lord Leonard had, in 
 the course of the afternoon, contrived to 
 draw him out by appeals to his opinion 
 respecting Denon and others, that were 
 scattered about the library table ; his 
 observations were all just and agreeably 
 given. 
 
 When Mr. Villars challenged his old 
 antagonist to chess, Lord Cranmore, fond 
 of children, began entertaining Agatha 
 with a description of Eastern costumes, 
 &c., and upon her asking him to draw 
 some for her, he surprised them all by 
 the rapidity and masterly style of his 
 sketches: the ice was now broken, and 
 his conversation became highly in- 
 teresting. 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 57 
 
 *« You are just like dear Sir Edward 
 Arundel !" said Agatha ; " he used to 
 do such nice things for me, and tell me 
 all about 'em, — Why don't he come here 
 again, aunty?" 
 
 " I hope he will, ere long," returned 
 Sophia ; " Henry heard of his being 
 gone to Rock Castle at Christmas, and 
 I expect he will bring us some news from 
 thence, Agatha. You are, I believe, ac- 
 quainted with him," addressing herself 
 to Lord Leonard j ** do you happen to 
 know whether he is in town just now?'* 
 
 " I — I really — am not sure," hesi- 
 tated Lord Leonard. " Do let us alone j 
 you are calling off Lord Leonard's at- 
 tention at a very critical moment !" Mr. 
 Villars exclaimed. 
 
 *' Is that the man, Leonard, whose strait 
 eye-brow, and finely shaped head, would 
 have equally satisfied Lavater and Gall 1" 
 Lord Cranmore asked 5 ** whom I pointed 
 out to you at Lord Egbam's dinner?" 
 he added, not receiving a read;^ answer. 
 D 5 
 
58 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 " Yes, yes, the same;" rather pettishly. 
 
 " Then I am sorry to inform you, 
 madam, that I heard Lord Belmont say 
 he was confined to the house with a 
 nervous fever/' 
 
 Sophia expressed her concern in terms 
 of friendly solicitude. 
 
 " Check-mate !'^ exclaimed Mr. Vil* 
 lars triumphantly ; ** I thought I never 
 could have recovered from that attack !" 
 
 " I must make over my revenge to 
 Cranmore," said his antagonist; " you 
 are quite above my hand in the absence 
 of your gout.'* 
 
 " Why, for the matter of that, it was 
 pretty much the same when my brother 
 had the gout !" observed Katty. ** You 
 remember, niece Delmere, he wanted 
 the chess-board taken into the study, be- 
 cause Lord Leonard did not mind his 
 play." 
 
 Mrs. Villars, not displeased with the 
 remark, but wishmg to ward off the em- 
 barrassment it might occasion, said. 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 59 
 
 "Aye, lookers-on always spoil sport, you 
 
 know." 
 
 " Nay, but I must do my niece the 
 justice to say, it was not from her speak- 
 ing about the game.'* 
 
 This being suffered to drop, she said 
 no more ; and Lord Leonard, having 
 resigned his place to his brother, took a 
 seat more to his taste between Sophia 
 and Emily at the work-table, where he 
 exerted his utmost talents for convers- 
 ation, which were of no mean descrip- 
 tion : Sophia, indeed, took no great 
 share in it'; still he soothed his fears with 
 the advantage he hoped to reap from 
 having so successfully established his 
 brother's neighbourly claims j and the 
 very readiness with which she avowed 
 the interest she felt for Sir Edward 
 Arundel was, he trusted, a sign of there 
 being little to apprehend from it. 
 
 Upon taking leave, Lord Leonard ob- 
 served, that although Cranmore could not 
 immediately take posseseion of his sport- 
 D 6 
 
60 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 ing-box, on account of the sick children, 
 he liimself should feel an anxiety about 
 them that might bring him down now 
 and then to enquire after them. This 
 did not fail to produce from the hospita- 
 ble Mr. Villars, the proposal of making 
 the Priory his boarding house on these 
 occasions. 
 
 In consequence of this, Lord Leonard's 
 visits became so frequent, and his at- 
 tentions so marked, as to be highly dis- 
 tressing to their object. To the cottage, 
 however, he had never gained access ; 
 and when she knew of his being in the 
 neighbourhood, she avoided dining at 
 the Priory. Still Agatha was so natural 
 a blind for various little attentions as fre- 
 quently to foil Sophia's purpose ; he ne- 
 ver failed to bring with him some appro- 
 priate present for the child ; books, prints, 
 educating games that required explana- 
 tion ; and none of the family were back- 
 ward on these occasions, in drawing the 
 recluse from her retreat, except Emily, 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 6l 
 
 who understood her sister's motives, and 
 saved her whenever she could do it with- 
 out attracting observation. 
 
 It had been a favourite maxim with 
 Mrs. Dehnere, that it must be a woman's 
 own fault if she continued to be address- 
 ed by a man she was determined not to 
 accept ; but in the present instance, she 
 found the contrary ; for all her coldness 
 and reserve was placed to the account of 
 her yet unsubdued grief for the loss of 
 her husband ; she was conscious that in 
 most cases it might fairly be expected 
 that time would at length be triumphant: 
 judging, therefore, and rightly, that Lord 
 Leonard was relying on this powerful 
 auxiliary, she spoke to her mother, in- 
 treating her to be explicit with him upon 
 the subject ; but Mrs. Villars asserted, 
 it was vain and inexcusable presumption 
 in a woman to refuse, before she was 
 asked, and declared she would have no- 
 thing to do with it. Considering her 
 good sense and discrimination, was she 
 
6s DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 quite sincere in this plea ? She certainly 
 didnot, like " Lady Jane Grenville/* wish 
 Sophia to have the credit ot" a refusal, 
 but she did most earnestly wish, that so 
 unexceptionable a man, as Lord Leonard 
 Ormsby seemed to be, might conquer 
 her daughter's reluctance to listen to him, 
 and she trusted much to the effects of 
 perseverance ; and what mother in the 
 same situation could have helped forming 
 a similar wish ? 
 
 When this topic came to be discussed 
 between the sisters, it took a very differ- 
 ent turn ; Emily entirely coincided in 
 the opinion of its being false delicacy 
 only that could check the generous wish 
 to shorten painful suspense, and she 
 offered to take upon herself the ungra- 
 cious task. 
 
 *< No, Emily, I will not so tax your 
 affection ;" said Sophia, ** I never have 
 any difficulty in acting for myself, when 
 convinced I am right. You concur with 
 me in the idea, that his attentions are too 
 
Domestic scenes. 63 
 
 obviously pointed, to be mistaken ; you 
 have observed his manner with other 
 women, and are satisfied he is not that 
 most contemptible of beings, a male 
 coquet ! O how gladly should I revenge 
 the cause of my sex, by letting him pine 
 in uncertainty, if he were — but a man 
 of honour is entitled to candid treatment, 
 and I shall not hesitate !'* 
 
 The only difficulty was to find a proper 
 opportunity, surrounded as she was, at 
 the Priory. It offered, however, ere 
 long. 
 
 Lord Leonard came as usual, with a 
 present for the darling. It was a little 
 conjuring ring, and he happened to over* 
 take her, and her aunt, Returning from a 
 walk. Sophia bid the child take the 
 ring to Emily, who would help her to 
 discover the puzzle 5 and then she in- 
 stantly began : — 
 
 ** I have sent her out of the way with 
 a view to a few minutes conversation^ 
 
64 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 which I have for some time been anxious 
 to hold with your lordship.*' 
 
 She stopped for a moment to collect 
 her ideas, and he was beginning to avail 
 himself of the opportunity, by uttering 
 some passionate expressions of his de- 
 votion. 
 
 " I must beg leave to interrupt you,'* 
 she said, ** I am not seeking for compli- 
 ments ; my frankness upon a former 
 occasion, has, I trust, shown you enough 
 of my character to acquit me of vanity, 
 and prepare you for what 1 am now com- 
 pelled to say." 
 
 Very apprehensive of what she might 
 be leading to, he attempted to break into 
 it by eagerly disclaiming the possibility 
 of his intending mere compliment. 
 
 But she again interrupted him ; " My 
 lord, I believe you wholly incapable of 
 professing what you do not feel ; it is 
 my reliance upon your strict honour, that 
 prompts the unusual step I am taking ; 
 your implicit deference to my former fear 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 65 
 
 of provoking gossiping animadversions 
 has raised you in my esteem, and given 
 me courage to speak upon a point of still 
 greater delicacy." 
 
 " Oh ! Mrs. Delmere, in pity do not 
 renew or extend prohibitions that exclude 
 me from every chance !" 
 
 " I should be guilty of unpardonable 
 duplicity," she broke in, " if I affected 
 blindness to the partiality with which you 
 honour me j and the chance for which 
 you plead, would lead to prolonged dis- 
 quietude. I think the cold reserve of 
 my behaviour can only have been misun- 
 derstood, from its being ascribed to feel- 
 ings over which time and perseverance 
 may naturally be expected to prevail ; 
 it may seem an arrogant boast to hold 
 myself above the common course : still 
 I do not hesitate to say, that I know my 
 own heart, and time can make no change 
 in it. The wish to spare you the conti- 
 nuance of a delusion that might end in 
 
66 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 increased pain, urges me to be thus ex- 
 plicit." 
 
 Lord Leonard was conscious of the 
 high compliment this generous open pro- 
 ceeding implied, and it heightened his 
 admiration. " Surely," he exclaimed, 
 ** you cannot mean to prohibit my visits 
 at the Priory ! You will not interdict 
 me your presence whilst the strictest 
 silence confines my feelings to my own 
 breast !" 
 
 ** One thing more I have to say ; be 
 not deluded by a hope of effectual inter- 
 ference from any individual of my family. 
 My principles are fixed and unchange- 
 able. I am honoured by your esteem. 
 I am giving you the most unequivocal 
 proof of mine. This sentiment is de- 
 cidedly the only one ever to be expected 
 from me. Having spoken so frankly, I 
 must leave it with yourself to judge of the 
 propriety of your continued visits at my 
 father's. I have no right of interdiction 
 there.'' 
 
DOIMESTIC SCENES. 6? 
 
 TJiey were now so near the drawing- 
 room window as to put a stop to the con- 
 versation : but Lord Leonard, wholly 
 disconcerted in this overthrow of all his 
 hopes, declined the wonted hospitality of 
 Mr. Villars, and returned to town unable 
 to form any immediate determination 
 respecting his future proceedings. 
 
68 
 
 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 CHAR V. 
 
 JLoRD Leonard sought Henry Villars, 
 and expatiated at large upon his misery. 
 His friend encouraged him still to hope 
 much from time, but advised him for the 
 present to submit to Sophia's interdic- 
 tion, and make some excursion that 
 should relieve his spirits. He satisfied 
 him respecting Sir Edward Arundel, by 
 stating the particulars relative to Agatha, 
 with which Lord Leonard was unac- 
 quainted j and prevailed upon him to visit 
 an estate in Ireland belonging to the fa- 
 mily, whenever the close of the sessions 
 should set him at liberty. 
 
 The mention of Sir Edward Arundel, 
 recalled to Henry's mind the injunction 
 in one of his sister's letters to make en- 
 quiry after him, which he had neglected 
 to obey. It had been given in conse- 
 quence of the information imparted by 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 69 
 
 Lord Cranmore, of his being confined 
 with a nervous fever. Having now- 
 walked with Lord Leonard as far as his 
 apartments in Albany, he proceeded to 
 Upper Brook Street, to atone for his 
 remissness, where his name gained him 
 immediate admittance to Sir Edward; 
 but he was shocked to observe the alter- 
 ation illness had made in his appearance. 
 
 A strong family likeness between 
 Henry and Sophia, increased the agita- 
 tion which the sight of any of their laame 
 would naturally have occasioned. Henry, 
 on perceiving it, feared he had been un- 
 intentionally let in ; and hastened to 
 apologise for his intrusion by saying, 
 ** that a letter from Mrs. Delmere, ex- 
 pressing anxiety on the subject of Sir 
 Edward's health, must plead his excuse, 
 if he came unseasonably." 
 
 With still increasing emotion, and even 
 a difficulty of articulation. Sir Edward 
 repeated, " Mrs. Delmere !" 
 
 ♦* Indeed, I am ashamed to acknow- 
 
70 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 ledge my remissness," Henry resumed ; 
 « the enquiry ought to have been much 
 sooner made." 
 
 Sir Edward interrupting him with an 
 effort to subdue his feelings, said ; " The 
 being remembered at all, in Mrs. Del- 
 mere's present situation, is more than I 
 could have flattered myself with.** 
 
 «« My sister's spirits, I am happy to 
 say," replied Henry, unconscious of his 
 meaning, " are recovering their natural 
 tone as rapidly as could well be ex- 
 pected." 
 
 " It would have been a very extraor- 
 dinary case indeed, if they had not !" 
 said Sir Edward, with a bitter smile. 
 
 " Sophia's is a mind of great energy, 
 — not quite to be appreciated by com- 
 mon rules ;" Henry returned, rather hurt 
 with the sarcasm. 
 
 " It certainly did appear so to me, 
 Mr. Villars, in the short intercourse with 
 Mrs. Delmere to which I have had the 
 honour of being admitted ; but iovgiwe 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 71 
 
 me if I say, that the present state of 
 things rather deviates into a more ordin- 
 ary course." 
 
 ** Do you mean that she was bound to 
 be eternally inconsolable ?" 
 
 " Eternally is a word of very circum- 
 scribed duration in most female voca- 
 bularies. I confess Mrs. Delmere im- 
 pressed me with an idea of her proving 
 an exception to every customary sarcasm 
 upon the sex." 
 
 " I am at a loss to understand in what 
 way my sister forfeits this opinion.'* 
 
 " Possibly I may be taking a very 
 undue liberty in glancing at what is not 
 yet meant to be avowed. Have the 
 goodness to excuse me, Mr. Villars, and 
 give me some account of my little friend 
 Agatha." 
 
 " Agatha is much grown, much im- 
 proved, and much out of patience withal, 
 at dear Sir Edward for staying away so 
 long, as she tells me in one of her curious 
 little epistles, which I believe I have in 
 
7^ DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 my pocket," searching for the letter as 
 he spoke ; ** but do explain to me what 
 you suppose is not meant to be avowed." 
 
 ** If any particular period is intended 
 to elapse before the marriage is made 
 public, be assured of my not — '* 
 
 <* Marriage !*' interrupted Henry, in 
 evident surprise, " Mrs. Delmere's mar- 
 riage 1 — is it possible such a report 
 should have been circulated ? Poor 
 Sophia ! cannot all your reserve and 
 retirement save you from such malicious 
 aspersions ? How impossible to escape 
 scandal !" 
 
 Henry's astonishment was so real as to 
 call up in Sir Edward far more over- 
 powering sensations. The variety of 
 contending feelings scarcely left him 
 breath to exclaim, — ** Can it indeed be 
 possible ? Could Lady Laura Belmont be 
 misinformed ? — or only premature, per- 
 chance !*' trembling with irrepressible 
 emotion. 
 
DOMiESTIC SCENES. 73 
 
 <« Premature!'' interrupted Henry, 
 «« Good Heaven ! — that Lord Leonard 
 Ormsby's visits should have been so in- 
 terpreted by the neighbourhood, I cannot 
 much wonder; but that Lady Layra, 
 knowing my sister as she does, should for 
 one instant have given credit to it, is, 
 indeed, somewhat surprising !" 
 
 Sir Edward was so severely reduced 
 by the fever which had preyed upon his 
 very vitals, that the revulsion from de- 
 sporidency to hope seemed to overwhelm 
 his faculties. He turned deadly pale, 
 and faint. Henry, alarmed at his appear- 
 ance, was about to ring for assistance 5 
 but he motioned not to do so, and point- 
 ing to the ether, desired he would give 
 him some drops, and not yet leave him. 
 
 When a little recovered, he repeated 
 Laura's words ; and Henry frankly ac- 
 knowledged Lord Leonard's admiration 
 of his sister, but asserted it to be wholly 
 discouraged on her part 5 adding, that 
 he was confident her devotion to the 
 
 VOL. II. E 
 
74 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 memory of Delmere was as entire as in 
 the first days of her widowhood. 
 
 So alarming a suffocation now took 
 place as to make it expedient to call for 
 assistance ; when leaving Sir Edward 
 to the care of his servant, Henry 
 stopped in the parlour till word was 
 brought that he was again relieved. 
 Concluding these faintings to be the 
 result of over-exertion, he regretted 
 having been let in ; and, determining his 
 next enquiry should only be at the door, 
 he proceeded straight home to write 
 Sophia a very melancholy account of Sir 
 Edward's condition. 
 
 The Easter recess carried a large party 
 to Belmont Park. The two fashionable 
 sisters drew a considerable train after 
 them. 
 
 Sophia felt deep solicitude for Emily's 
 first meeting with Lord Belmont, and 
 anxious to afford her the support of her 
 presence, she had taken the earliest op- 
 portunity of paying her compliments to 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 7^ 
 
 the new Earl and Countess, and Lady 
 Laura; who, being themselves now re- 
 leased from all fears respecting Emily, 
 were courteous and affable beyond their 
 wonted graciousness, and protested they 
 should reckon every party incomplete, in 
 which the family at the Priory was not 
 included. No excuse was admitted of 
 for their joining the gay set that very 
 evening. 
 
 They delayed their tea visit till the 
 usual supper hour at the Priory, hoping 
 by that time to find the whole party 
 assembled in the drawing-room at Bel- 
 mont Park ; but the ladies only were yet 
 risen from table. Laura's very warm 
 reception of Emily, had, however, before 
 the gentlemen came in, a little tranquil- 
 lised the heart-beatings that she could not 
 quite divest herself of, in the anticipation 
 of this trying meeting. 
 
 Sophia's eye was steadily fixed upon 
 Lord Belmont when he entered. She 
 perceived his to fall immediately upon 
 E % 
 
76 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 her sister, and a slight emotion betrayed 
 itself in his countenance, but was as 
 quickly subdued ; and he advanced with 
 all the polite ease of a perfectly well-bred 
 man ; enquired after Mr. Villars, and his 
 friend Henry ; and then quietly turning 
 to the coffee that was offered to him, en- 
 tered into conversation with the person 
 nearest him. 
 
 The cool unfeelingness of this behaviour 
 was such a support to Emily's firmness 
 as entirely relieved her from all further 
 ti^pidation. 
 
 Lord Cran more, whose cottage was now 
 free from the little invalids that had occu- 
 pied it, had very readily agreed to the pro- 
 posal made by his sister (at the suggestion 
 of Laura), that he should take possession 
 of it on this occasion. He did not long 
 delay availing himself of his introduction 
 at the Priory ; and Mr. Villars, as usual,, 
 gave him an immediate invitation to din- 
 ner, which was very readily accepted. 
 
 Coffee was just over, and Katty had 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 77 
 
 coaxed Emily to the piano-forte for one 
 of those Irish melodies her sweet-toned 
 voice carried so irresistibly to the heart. 
 Lord Cranmore in rapturous attention 
 was leaning on the end of the instrument 
 with his eyes rivetted to her face, wherl 
 the door opened, and Lady Laura and 
 Lord Belmont appeared. 
 
 Emily was so placed at the instrument 
 that she could not see them 5 and her 
 auditor so entranced, that he neither 
 heard nor saw any thing, till a sudden 
 exclamation from Katty recalled his 
 senses. " Well ! for my part ! of all 
 the birds in the air ! who could have 
 thought of seeing Your Ladyship at this 
 time o'day !'* 
 
 It had lately been Laura's fate to meet 
 with something to disconcert her on 
 visiting the Priory. Lord Cranmore was 
 naturally an object of greater interest 
 to her than his younger brother. She 
 had in vain exerted her best powers to 
 draw him into conversation j his taci- 
 E 3 
 
78 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 turnity had proved unconquerable ; she 
 had in vain displayed her musical ability ; 
 he simply pleaded a want of ear ; she 
 had, notwithstanding, seen him convers- 
 ing the preceding evening with playful 
 ease with Sophia and Emily ; and now 
 she had found him evincing the strongest 
 sensibility to tones to which he had pro- 
 fessed himself impenetrable ! It was 
 with difficultv she could command her- 
 self so as to deliver her mother's invit- 
 ation for the evening with any degree of 
 civility. 
 
 A civil excuse was offered in return. 
 
 " And how long may I ask," cried 
 Laura, addressing herself to Lord Cran- 
 more with a sarcastic smile, " How long 
 has Your Lordship been gifted with this 
 new perception of the powers of music ?" 
 
 " A renewal of the wonders of old!** 
 was the quiet reply : — ** Balaam*s ass 
 never spoke, you know, till he beheld^an 
 angel 1'* 
 
 This answer was not calculated to re- 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 79 
 
 store placidity to her ruffled brow. She 
 said no more. 
 
 Lord Belmont had made up to Emily 
 with increased ease of mannei', and even 
 requested to hear a song that had for- 
 merly been a favourite with him ; but 
 she coolly rose from her seat, saying, 
 after so long a separation from Lady 
 Laura, she had much to hear from her ; 
 and was moving towards her, when Her 
 Ladyship abruptly declared they should 
 hardly have time to dress before dinner j 
 and departed with very little ceremony, 
 followed of course by her brother, though 
 with a look that betrayed both reluctance 
 and disappointment. 
 
 E 4i 
 
so DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 It was a morning or two after this that 
 Sophia dropped in at breakfast time, at 
 the Priory, to settle the plans for the day 
 with her mother and sister; and she was 
 just taking Agatha by the hand to return 
 to the cottage, when the child gave a 
 sudden spring from her, with a scream 
 of delight, " O dear, dear Sir Edward ! 
 there he is, come at last! — and Uncle 
 Henry!*' and she darted across the lawn 
 to meet them. 
 
 Sophia followed, — a glow of pleasure 
 overspreading her countenance ; and she 
 warmly expressed her satisfaction at the 
 restoration of health his looks bespoke. 
 Those looks did, indeed, brighten at such 
 a reception, and it required all his prede- 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 81 
 
 termined caution to repress the emotion 
 that would have betrayed him. She re- 
 proached Henry with negligence, for not 
 having more minutely answered her en- 
 quiries after Sir Edward's health, when 
 he had created so serious an alarm by his 
 representation of it. Much struck with 
 her manner, which evinced an interest be- 
 yond what he had supposed, her brother 
 now reproached himself with some neglect, 
 though it was in a great measure ac- 
 counted for, by the repeated delays that 
 had occurred in this proposed visit to the 
 Priory. 
 
 The fact was this : when Henry, after 
 the very alarming state in which he con- 
 ceived he had left Sir Edward, returned 
 to make his enquires, he found that orders 
 had been given for his admission 5 and 
 to his utter astonishment, the traces of 
 disease had disappeared so entirely, that 
 he experienced but slight additional sur- 
 prise, when Sir Edward made the proposal 
 to him of this visit, having, as he s^id, 
 E 5 
 
82 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 communications to make to Mrs. Delmere 
 from Mr. Arundel respecting his grand- 
 daughter. Henry happened to be just 
 then engaged in some business that did 
 not admit of being broken into, and a 
 more distant day was fixed than at all 
 suited the lover's altered feelings ; but he 
 was so perfectly aware of the necessity 
 of guarding against a premature discovery 
 of his passion, that he bridled his impa- 
 tience, deeming the offer of a place in 
 his chaise to the brother as a sort of 
 friendly covering to his own views. The 
 day had been several times unavoidably 
 put offj and in the constant expectation 
 of its taking place, Henry had been care- 
 less of writing as explicitly as Sophia 
 wished. 
 
 The thousand little kindnesses shown 
 to Agatha, had placed Sir Edward in a 
 light so diiFerent from that in which he 
 had been first viewed — his forbearing 
 and delicate consideration in withholding 
 the knowledge of the child's accident,— 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. S8 
 
 and his very serious subsequent indispo- 
 sition, had altogether awakened an interest 
 for him, of which Sophia as yet felt no 
 distrust, but which excited the most 
 agreeable hopes in those by whom she 
 was surrounded. 
 
 Sir Edward raised to a pitch of rapture 
 by her evident pleasure at the sight of 
 him, felt equal to any gaiety that might 
 be proposed, not even shrinking from the 
 prospect of waltzes and reels, which were 
 talked of for the evening at Belmont 
 Park. 
 
 Lord Cranmore's morning call at the 
 Priory had naturally led to his being asked 
 to meet Sir Edward Arundel at dinner; 
 and, notwithstanding his natural shyness, 
 very rapid advances were made in the 
 course of it to more intimate acquaint- 
 ance. If he had been struck with Sir 
 Edward's turn of countenance, and shape 
 of head, at Lord Egham's, when he was 
 out of reach of hearing his conversation, 
 how much more so now by the sense and 
 E 6 
 
S4f DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 feeling of all he said, the unaffected 
 language in which his sentiments were 
 clothed, and the elegant ease of his 
 whole deportment. Sir Edward, on his 
 part, was not less pleased with the intel- 
 ligent expression, and mild unobtrusive 
 spirit of observation, that sat on the brow 
 of Lord Cranmore, whose naturally se- 
 rious cast of countenance acquired an 
 indescribable charm when an occasional 
 smile illumined it ; and he gave way the 
 more readily to the favourable impression 
 he was receiving, from the very unequi- 
 vocal symptoms His Lordship betrayed of 
 exclusive devotion to Emily. Henry, 
 desirous of promoting the acquaintance 
 between two such superior men, enli- 
 vened the discussions that arose by his 
 quiet playfulness, and the original per- 
 ceptions of his own well-stored mind y 
 added to this the enthusiastic glow of 
 Mrs. Delmere's turn of thought ; the 
 gentle and judicious discriminations of 
 Emily j the sterling sense of Mrs. Vil- 
 15 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 85 
 
 lars ; and the energetic clear headedness 
 of her husband, all contributed to give 
 an interest to the subjects treated of, so 
 much above the common run of table- 
 talk, as could not fail of improving the 
 good-will of the company towards each 
 other. 
 
 In the evening, Sophia and Emily, at- 
 tended by Lord Cranmore, Sir Edward, 
 and Henry, adjourned to the Park. 
 Among the arrivals there, was the Duke 
 of Ulswater, an object of no small im- 
 portance to Laura, being young, rich, 
 and single ; but young as he was, he 
 proved above Her Ladyship's hand. His 
 father had been a Chesterfieldian of the 
 first lustre, and had too carefully trained 
 his son to leave him an easy prey to a ma- 
 trimonial bait. His wary grace had judici- 
 ously divided his adorations between the 
 two rival belles, till he should be able to 
 form some decided opinion respecting 
 Belmont's susceptibility, with regard to 
 his wife. He was not long in discovering. 
 
86 DCHMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 by tokens almost imperceptible to eyes 
 less experienced, that he might safely 
 devote himself more exclusively to Lady 
 Sabina. Laura, quickly aware of the turn 
 his attentions were taking, sought to 
 awaken his jealousy, by a marked pre- 
 ference to Henry Villars, but in vain did 
 she spread her toils ; neither was the 
 Duke jealous nor Henry caught. 
 
 In the course of the evening the piano- 
 forte had been resorted to : Lord Bel- 
 mont immediately pleaded his fondness 
 for music, as an excuse for withdrawing 
 from the Faro-table, and earnestly soli- 
 cited Emily for some of those ballads he 
 had been used to dwell upon with rapture. 
 This she coolly declined ; but could not 
 so easily ward off the joining Laura in 
 the duets she proposed. — As they 
 finished the first, Laura exclaimed, 
 
 * There is in souls a sympathy with 
 sounds!* with a look of such meaning at 
 her brother, as caught the observation of 
 Emily J and she instantly resolved to stand 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 87 
 
 the brunt of any accusation of caprice she 
 might incur, by the refusal to utter 
 another note. 
 
 Emily's eyes were now as much opened 
 to Laura's proceedings as Sophia could 
 wish, and she was highly displeased, more- 
 over, with Lord Belmont's manner. The 
 sisters agreed, therefore, to decline all far- 
 ther invitations from the Park, while the 
 present party remained there. 
 
 Of course. Lord Cranmore and Sir 
 Edward became seceders likewise ; and 
 the mutual liking between them soon 
 grew to such a degree of intimacy, that 
 when Sir Edward spoke of returning to 
 London with Henry, according to agree- 
 ment, Lord Cranmore pressed his accept- 
 ance of Lord Leonard's apartment at 
 Boxmount Cottage, with a friendly ear- 
 nestness that was not to be resisted. And 
 Henry, well pleased with the observations 
 he had lately made respecting Sophia, was 
 very ready to oblige him by deferring his 
 departure. 
 
88 DOMESTIC SCENES, 
 
 Lord Belmont had taken much pains 
 to regain a footing of intimacy at the 
 Priory, but Emily, equally offended at his 
 apparent neglect of his newly married 
 wife, and the levity of his manner to her- 
 seli', had constantly left the room the 
 moment he entered it ; and he had finally 
 gone away from Belmont Park, stung to 
 the quick by tiiis behaviour ; mortified, 
 also, in the extreme, by the comparison 
 which constantly forced itself upon his 
 notice, between his former love and the 
 insipid Sabina, his passion now resumed 
 a power that determined him to leave no 
 means untried of recovering an interest 
 with Emily ; never stopping to ask him- 
 self to what it was to lead. 
 
 A p-ressing invitation was shortly after 
 this received, from Mr. and Mrs. Valacort 
 for Emily to accompany her brother on his 
 return to town. Very reluctant, indeed, 
 to leave the opening charms of her flower- 
 garden, she would fain have declined the 
 proposal, but Sophia so eagerly seconded 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 89 
 
 the wish of Mrs. Villars, for her accept- 
 ance, that having no very valid reason to 
 urge against it, she found herself obliged 
 to comply. 
 
 Sir Edward Arundel had never before 
 happened to be in the country, in so de- 
 lightfully forward a spring, he said. He 
 found his health so much improved by it, 
 and his taste for rural scenes so greatly 
 increased, that he could have wished to 
 persuade Lord Cranmore to stay and en- 
 joy its beauties a little longer ; but Lord 
 Cranmore, on the contrary, having heard 
 a very early day fixed for the departure 
 of Emily, was seized with the sudden 
 recollection of some business of moment 
 he had left unfinished in town, and which 
 could not admit of longer delay. Though 
 he insisted with friendly urgency upon Sir 
 Edward keeping possession of the hunting- 
 box as much longer as he should incline 
 to stay, this might have proved a be- 
 traying circumstance, and was, there* 
 fore, prudently declined. 
 
90 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 Mrs, Villars not having been in Lon- 
 don since Mr. Villars had relinquished 
 his seat in Parliament, little suspected 
 the whirl of dissipation into which she 
 was driving poor Emily. Mr. Valacort 
 had not been long married at that time j 
 and the impression her short acquaintance 
 with her sister-in-law had made upon her 
 mind, was that of an elegant, well-bred, 
 pleasing woman, affectionate and obliging, 
 and taking a kind interest in all her hus. 
 band's connections. 
 
 And all this she was ; but the world 
 had drawn her into its dangerous vortex. 
 No sooner had the claims of Mr. and 
 Mrs. Valacort to notice transpired ; 
 his large fortune ; handsome house ; 
 splendid establishment ; excellent cook ; 
 choice wines ; than the most flattering 
 prevenmices every where assailed her, and 
 proved irresistible : her elegant taste, 
 moreover, gave a peculiar charm to all 
 her tO'do's ; her parties ; her balls 5 her 
 petit soiipers ; her breakfasts, were in the 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 91 
 
 highest request, and nothing went for- 
 ward of any kind to which they were not 
 invited. Mr. Valacort, extremely fond 
 of his wife, and never so happy as when 
 he saw her so, good naturediy gave way 
 to a style of life not as entu'ely suited to 
 his own inclinations as to hers. He was 
 fond of Henry Villars, and would gladly 
 have had more of his company, but the 
 entire dissimilarity in their modes of life, 
 hours, and society, combined, with his 
 nephew's naturally retired manners, to 
 keep them much asunder. 
 
 Henry had indeed apprised his mother 
 and sisters of Mrs. Valacort's increased 
 habits of dissipation ; but still as he had 
 always been told by the very few stylish 
 men with whom he happened to be ac- 
 quainted, that she was not at all ranked 
 with the most flighty tonisli dashers, he 
 did not state her way of life in a light 
 sufficiently strong to deter Emily from 
 encountering it. 
 
92 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 Emily and Henry Villars arrived in 
 Stanhope-street towards seven in the 
 evening, and were very affectionately 
 received. " So lucky !" said Mrs. Vala- 
 cort, " that my wish to be in time at the 
 new opera made me order dinner early 
 to-day; for I suppose you are both fa- 
 mished after your journey : it will be 
 served presently." 
 
 Emily was rather surprised to hear it 
 called an early dinner, though from the 
 hours at Belmont Park she knew there 
 "were later ; and she wondered what the 
 opera-hour might be, for which Mrs. 
 Valacort was preparing, observing her 
 to be still in her morning pelisse and 
 bgnnet. 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 95 
 
 " You have timed your arrival every 
 ^ay so fortunately !" continued her aunt; 
 ' for there is to be a drawing-room on 
 Thursday, at which I shall present you : 
 hey occur so rarely now, that it is a great 
 ardship upon the young people who are 
 be brought out." 
 
 Its being deemed a hardship, was 
 omething of a surprise again ; having 
 Iways heard Laura talk of the necessity 
 if attending the drawing-room as * a sad 
 >ore,' and not aware that it was an indis- 
 )ensable prelude to a young lady's entree 
 nto the fashionable world ; however, as 
 he found it was considered fortunate, she 
 vas willing to think it so. 
 
 When they were rising from table, 
 Mrs. Valacort said, " You are probably 
 :oo much fagged with your journey to 
 :are for the opera to-night, otherwise you 
 aeed not mind dress as you may keep back 
 in the box." 
 
 " My dear aunt, 1 am in no such haste 
 for dissipation ^ but do not let me inter- 
 
94 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 fere with your engagement. I shall look 
 forward to the opera as the greatest treat 
 London has in store for me, if you are 
 kind enough to take me when you hap- 
 pen to go again." 
 
 Mrs. Valacort, smiling at the word 'hap- 
 pen,' replied, ** You happen to be in luck 
 there, too ! for my colleague is detained 
 in the country, so you shall have her 
 ticket twice a-week during your stay." 
 
 " But, indeed, I am not so unreasonably 
 fond of amusement, as to expect to go 
 into public twice a-week !" cried Emily, 
 ** I earnestly hope, my dear madam, you 
 will not let your goodness to me draw 
 you into any thing more than is quite 
 agreeable to yourself." 
 
 *' Twice a week 1" repeated Mrs. Vala- 
 cort laughing : *' you may think yourself 
 well off when you are not twice a night 
 in public during your stay with me." 
 
 *« Poor rustic !" said Henry, smiling 
 at the air of alarm that took possession of 
 Emily's features,. *« how must your con« 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 95 
 
 ceptions expand before they reach the 
 exigencies of the hour in a London life 1'' 
 
 *' Don't look so scared, my dear !*' re- 
 sumed Mrs. Valacort: ** I shan't suffer 
 you to be diverted out of your senses ; 
 but you can't imagine what a world of 
 business regularity will carry one through; 
 however, I feel very much inclined to 
 indulge a fit of idleness to-night and 
 give up the opera : a domestic evening 
 at home with you both will be quite a 
 treat, and afibrd leisure for talking over 
 the dear Villars's, whom I feel really 
 shocked to have been such a stranger to 
 of late." 
 
 *« Stranger, indeed !" returned Emily: 
 " not even one of the flying twenty-four 
 hour visits, since poor Sophia's return, 
 nor for some years before ! and scarcely 
 a letter in six months !" 
 
 " Why, as to letters, Emily, when 
 you see what a London life is, you will 
 cease to wonder j and with regard to 
 visits, we lie north and south, you know. 
 
96 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 Lionel will vouch for me, I have always 
 been planning a visit to the Priory, on 
 leaving town ; but it has so happened, 
 either that a party has engaged to go 
 down with us, or to follow us so quickly, 
 that we have been obliged to hasten to 
 the Abbey, to receive them. You have 
 no notion, Emily, how the duties of society 
 lead one off from what one would best 
 like to do." 
 
 Emily thought the term duty rather 
 misapplied, but supposed she should learn 
 to understand the fashionable accepta- 
 tion of words by degrees, and remained 
 silent. 
 
 <« I think I shall only just look in at 
 the last ballet myself," saidMr.Valacort, 
 " as you say, Caroline, a domestic even- 
 ing will really be a treat, and to us have 
 all the charm of novelty." 
 
 " By the way," said Mrs. Valacort, 
 as they were going up to the drawing- 
 room, " I must send immediately to the 
 dress-maker, about your court-dress !" 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 97 
 
 and she rang the bell, to give her orders 
 for Madame Clinquant, whilst Emily's 
 eyes wandered in admiration of the taste 
 and elegance with which the apartment 
 was fitted up, and rested with delight on 
 the book-cases and chiffoiiieres so well 
 filled. 
 
 " I see treasures here, that may fur- 
 nish many a domestic evening's enjoy- 
 ment, if I may be so indulged during my 
 stay," cried Emily, as she eagerly ran 
 over the titles of the books. 
 
 " Domestic evenings are not exactly 
 what people usually resort to London in 
 quest of," was the answer : " we shall 
 endeavour to substitute something a little 
 gayer, to the humdrum pastimes of the 
 country." 
 
 <* The mornings are delightfully long, 
 if you don't dine till eight!" Emily re- 
 turned: " that will allow some hours com- 
 fortable reading ; and I am never tired of 
 reading aloud, if you like being read to." 
 
 ^ Lord help you ! my dear ! the morn- 
 
 YOL. II. F 
 
98 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 ing is scarcely long enough for all the 
 necessary avocations that must be at- 
 tended to; — no/no, you'll soon see how 
 all that is." 
 
 " And are all these well-filled shelves 
 only for show, then ?" Emily enquired. 
 
 *' For comfort, child ! nothing makes 
 a room look so comfortable as books ; it 
 does away all appearance of form; but 
 if you are so desperately bent upon read- 
 ing, you are welcome to take a volume 
 of any thing you like into your own room, 
 in case you should sometimes be ready a 
 few minutes before my breakfast hour. On 
 one condition, though, that you don't talk 
 of books in company, unless it be the last 
 
 novel, or a new poem of Lord B 's : 
 
 I should hate to have you set down as a 
 blue stocking 1" 
 
 " Is that the inevitable result of a liking 
 for books?" Emily asked with a smile, 
 *« and is the term very opprobrious ?" 
 
 " They are a mighty affected quizzical 
 set in general : we who reckon ourselves 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 99 
 
 the ton, hold them in perfect contempt : 
 there are great houses, however, where 
 they are accueilUs; if you have a curiosity 
 to see the nature of them for once, I can 
 
 take you to Lady 's, who makes a 
 
 great fuss with them ; and I have free 
 access to hex parties choisies at all times/' 
 
 " Indeed, I should like it exceed- 
 ingly," Emily replied ; " for I had no 
 conception that literature made a sepa- 
 ration in society: — but you can't mean 
 that fine people hold it a disgrace to 
 read ?" 
 
 " O dear no ! in the country every 
 body reads j and there, where topics of 
 conversation are scarce, there is not the 
 same objection to talking of it: — but 
 you will soon see how it is here !" Mrs» 
 Valacort repeated. 
 
 Emily was, indeed, concerned to see 
 how it was with her aunt. The gentle- 
 man now came up. 
 
 " Apropos of affectation!" resume*^ 
 Mrs. Valacort : ** I hope Mrs. Delmere 
 
 F 2 
 
100 DOMESTIC SCENES, 
 
 don't mean to persist much longer in 
 her's, for it is really quite vexatious to 
 observe the sneer and sarcasm with which 
 her « unexampled grief is alluded to." 
 
 ** Can you, who know Sophia, deem 
 it affectation, dear aunt ?" Emily asked, 
 much hurt. 
 
 " It is probably not affectation in 
 her,'* said Mr. Valacort : '* she was always 
 an enthusiast?" 
 
 " And very romantic to boot," re- 
 joined his lady; "but, she should con- 
 sider, the world does not understand and 
 will not allow for these peculiarities." 
 
 " But Sophia means to have no farther 
 concern with the world !" said Emily. 
 
 " Pho 1 nonsense !" cried Mr. Vala- 
 cort. 
 
 <* Where it is necessary to veil culti- 
 vation of mind to ward off the charge of 
 affectation," said Henry, " we may deem 
 it fortunate if deep feeli?ig escape the 
 imputation of downright >%." 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 101 
 
 "Lord bless me! — not at all!" said 
 Mrs. Valacort ; *« on the contrary, feel- 
 ing is quite the foible of the day ; one 
 hears of nothing but sensibility, only it 
 isn't expected to last for ever/' 
 
 " No; to do it justice," returned 
 Henry, " permanency is not indeed its 
 prevailing characteristic." 
 
 " It would, however, be kind to 
 Sophia," Mr. Valacort resumed, *^ to 
 endeavour to draw her out of her eccen- 
 tricities." 
 
 Emily answered, for it being very 
 much the wish of all the family to restore 
 her to her friends and to society. The 
 conversation then turned upon interest- 
 ing family topics, till interrupted by the 
 arrival of that high priestess of taste, — 
 Madame Clinquant. 
 
 This weighty concern having been 
 duly attended to, tea was called for ; and 
 at half past ten Mr. Valacort's carriage 
 was announced. Turning to Henry, he 
 said, ** It may take you home after set- 
 F 3 
 
102 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 ling me down, and by the time it returns 
 the ballet will be nearly over; and then 
 I'll just look in at Lady Eastcourt's to 
 see whether I can get a director's ticket 
 for Emily for the Ancients to-morrow, as 
 you suggested, Caroline." 
 
 *' And, if you should fail, I may pro- 
 bably get a royal one at the Duchess of 
 Derwent's supper," was the answer : ** so 
 if you will call for me in your way from 
 Lady Eastcourt's, I shall be ready. — 
 Bid Chalmers light the candles in my 
 dressing-room, Bonaire, I shall be with 
 her presently." 
 
 This winding-up of a domestic evening 
 w^as quite as great a surprise to Emily as 
 any novelty that had arisen in the course 
 of it. 
 
 ** I shall not be long dressing," said 
 Mrs. Valacort ; " you may amuse your- 
 self the while with writing your name on 
 my visiting-tickets. — I should not set 
 you so tiresome a job ; but that I happen 
 to have just turned away my porter, and 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 103 
 
 am not yet suited ; and Bonaire makes 
 such a shocking hand of it," tossing her 
 several parcels of visiting-tickets as she 
 spoke. 
 
 " 1 shall not need to go very deep 
 into this provision for the month allotted 
 to my visit !" said Emily. 
 
 ** Lord love you my dear! they'll not 
 go half through my visiting-list : don't 
 you know that after your presentation 
 my men must go all over the town with 
 these, to secure your being invited every- 
 where with me.'* 
 
 " And must I go every where? — to 
 people I have never seen ? 
 
 *' To be sure you must." 
 
 <« But how is it possible to keep up 
 such an extensive acquaintance? — here 
 are some hundred tickets !" 
 
 " You'll see! — you'll see!" repeated 
 Mrs. Valacort, as she went away laugh- 
 ing, much amused with Emily's simplicity, 
 and delighted with her beauty. 
 F 4 
 
104 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 *' My aunt or the world must be 
 altered since my mother has held inter- 
 course with either !" thought Emily, ** or 
 she could not have been so bent upon 
 my making this excursion ; for surely 
 this must be the very extreme of fashion- 
 able dissipation ! — what a melancholy 
 reflection !" 
 
 And the sadness of it pursued Emily 
 some time after laying her head upon her 
 pillow, till fatigue and exhaustion at 
 length produced their natural effect, and 
 locked up that and every other care in 
 happy oblivion. 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 105 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 Twelve o'clock was the breakfast hour j 
 before which, Mrs. Valacort had sur- 
 mised the possibility of her niece's having 
 occasionally a few minutes to spare upon a 
 book ; whilst Emily, in the habit of rising 
 nearly with the lark, felt great satisfaction 
 on hearing an hour named which would, 
 in fact, secure her a little day of her own 
 before that of her aunt began : this was 
 the only agreeable novelty she had yet 
 met with in Stanhope Street. 
 
 On the following morning, she had 
 written a long letter to the Priory, after 
 having devoted her first hours, as she was 
 ever wont, to a study which she deemed 
 her best security against deviations from 
 those strict rules of right to which she 
 F 5 
 
106 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 strongly felt the importance of adhering* 
 — I would not startle my tonish readers 
 by naming the volume ; but should it, 
 perchance, be guessed, let it also be 
 remembered that, educated wholly in the 
 country, she was devoid of that noble con- 
 fidence in unassisted reason, which the 
 more highly accomplished town bellesfind 
 all-sufficient to preserve them from error. 
 Prone to distrust herself, she was fain to 
 seek for daily support where her un- 
 worldly mother had early taught her to 
 look for it. Nay, indeed, truth compels 
 the avowal that, not content with this, 
 she sought for farther assistance from 
 one of her selections out of her aunt's 
 choice collection, a volume of Sermons! 
 Will the name of Allison on its title-page 
 obtain her immunity? — if not, she must 
 abide the censure, for so it really was. 
 Along with it, however, she had also 
 chosen ' The Lord of the Isles,' * Don 
 Roderick,' * Lara,' all new to her ; and 
 she was deeply immersed in poetic disr 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 107 
 
 tress, when, punctually at twelve, she 
 was summoned to the breakfast-table. 
 
 " You need not w^ait for a summons, 
 Emily," said Mrs. Valacort, " you may 
 depend upon finding me here at the 
 striking of the clock ; punctuality and 
 regularity are the two great hinges upon 
 which all my avocations turn 5 and by 
 means of which I get through more than 
 half the world beside." 
 
 Emily, much pleased to hear her boast 
 of two such valuable qualities, cherished 
 a hope they would not be w^holly bcr 
 stowed upon trifles. 
 
 " Your brother, Henry, is a mighty 
 good sort of young man ; and, I dare 
 say, very sensible and very learned, and 
 all that sort of thing ; but, as I tell 
 Lionel, he sadly wants polish ! no air of 
 fashion about him at all! — Whv did 
 not Villars send him abroad during the 
 year of peace ?" said Mrs. Valacort, care- 
 lessly sipping her tea as she spoke. 
 
 Emily was equally surprised and raor/- 
 E 6 
 
108 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 tified at the kind of contemptuous ' good 
 sort of young man,' applied as designat- 
 ing Henry, whom, with the tenderest 
 sisterly partiality, she was accustomed to 
 consider as one of the first of human 
 beings j for " who could ever think of 
 his manners that knew his mind and his 
 talents ?" was the prevailing observation 
 at the Priory. But checking her feel- 
 ing for the moment, however, she only 
 answered, ** My father proposed a tour 
 on the Continent to him, at the time you 
 mention, but he did not seem inclined." 
 ** You have hurt Emily without in- 
 tending it, Caroline," said Mr. Valacort, 
 kindly : *' I see, by her tell-tale counte- 
 nance, she does not like to hear him 
 called * a good sort of young man :' its 
 what all females object to ; but, unless 
 we can get him a little amongst us, and 
 rub him up to show something more of 
 what is really in him, he'll get no' better 
 epithet in the fine world, I can tell you 
 though, my dear !" 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 109 
 
 «* It is not any epithet the fine world, 
 to whom he cannot be known, might 
 bestow upon him that would at all hurt 
 me," replied Emily ; " but the opinion 
 of a relation cannot be indifferent ; and 
 I imagined my aunt too well acquainted 
 with his claims, both of head and heart, 
 to have spoken of him slightingly as of 
 a common character !*' 
 
 " Why, to tell you the truth, Emily, 
 it is not easy to get over a deficiency of 
 manners in the world : but I really didn't 
 mean to hurt you, for we love Henry 
 enough to be anxious for his appearing 
 to the best advantage : he will be Lionel's 
 heir, you know, as we have no children, 
 and so we want him to make a splendid 
 alliance." 
 
 ** I have tried every mode of coaxing 
 him to us," resumed Mr. Valacort, " but 
 he afltects to keep such out-of-the-way 
 hours, and pleads study, and that, you 
 know, is a great joke, with the immense 
 
110 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 property which must one day centre in 
 him." 
 
 ** I believe," Emily gravely answered,. 
 " ray brother does not conceive it to 
 be disgraceful to a man of fortune to 
 study !" 
 
 *' His being so urjlike other young 
 men inclines one to fear he may have 
 formed some low attachment !" 
 
 «' Good Heaven ! my uncle !" inter- 
 rupted Emily ; ** of all the unmerited 
 suspicions that could attach to Henry — " 
 
 «' Well, well," interrupted Mrs. Vala- 
 cort, " don't take the suggestion so very 
 deeply to heart! — he would have plenty 
 of high precedent to plead if it were so ; 
 but,. I protest, he gave such earnest of 
 improvement yesterday, in the arch play- 
 fulness of some of his observations, that 
 I think the very having Emily with us 
 wall draw him out; and I have half-ar 
 dozen young women of fashion in my 
 eye, not one of whom would say him 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. Ill 
 
 nay, if we could but get him to make up 
 to them/' 
 
 Different as Emily's matrimonial wishes 
 for her brother were from those of 
 her uncle and aunt, the really well-meant 
 solicitude they expressed softened the 
 pain their low estimation of his merits 
 had given her. Adverting, however, to 
 Mr. Valacort's ill-grounded suspicion, 
 she said, " So far from the slightest dis- 
 position in my brother to any thing de- 
 rogatory of his place in society, I should 
 — if I were to select a single expression 
 as characteristic of his mind and thoughts 
 — I should say it was * elegance.' — I am 
 not speaking of his exterior," she added^ 
 observing the smile rising to Mrs. Valar 
 cort's lip ; ** though I must confess that, 
 according to my confined ideas, even 
 that appears far preferable to some of th@ 
 very fashionable guests I have seen at 
 Belmont Park." 
 
 " O! his person is undeniably good : 
 I have no quarrel with that!" rejoined 
 
112 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 her aunt ; ** and I'll do you the justice 
 to allow you ought to be a judge of ele- 
 gance, for, in truth, it's no compliment 
 to say it is personified in you !" 
 
 Emily, wholly unused to the newly- 
 imported foreign custom of expressing 
 admiration of looks and dress to the face 
 of the person, blushed up to her eyes at 
 this speech. Mrs. Valacort went on: — 
 *' Lionel and I must accustom you to 
 hear these kind of truths, my dear, that 
 you may not be in danger of betraying 
 your rustic education by that sad trick 
 of blushing, to which I perceive you are 
 so prone; — but, apropos, of Belmont 
 Park ; pray how does that young menage 
 go on ?" 
 
 « I believe pretty much as fashionable 
 meiiages do go on !" she answered, with 
 some embarrassment, but trying to smile. 
 
 *' Because we heard of something 
 rather more rapid than usual : the Duke 
 of Uls water is said to be very assiduous, 
 and these are early days for that !" 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 113 
 
 " Is there any specific time/' said 
 Emily, playfully, wishing to ward off any 
 allusion to Lord Belmont, '* at which a 
 fashionable wife may allow of particular 
 attentions from a gay young man ?" 
 
 If there be," said Mr. Valacort, look- 
 ing affectionately at his wife, " Caroline 
 has not yet found it out.'' And, in truth, 
 they were a most attached couple, not- 
 withstanding the hold fashion had taken 
 upon their general opinions and manners. 
 
 •* It is not so much the Duke's at- 
 tentions, as the early falling off of Lord 
 Belmont that causes surprise," Mrs. 
 Valacort resumed : " they say he actually 
 already neglects her, though so despe- 
 rately in love when they married." 
 
 A most opportune note was just then 
 delivered, which prevented the observ- 
 ation that might have been made on the 
 fluctuations of countenance this speech 
 had occasioned. Mr. Valacort's eye was 
 also luckily fixed u pon his newspaper. 
 
114 DOMESTIC SCENES; 
 
 " Now mind, Caroline/' he said, when 
 he had done, ** I charge you not to be 
 sparing in setting off tl.is pretty person 
 to the best advantage, of which, how- 
 ever, it may be fi;:rly said, * when un- 
 adorned to be adorned the most,' but 
 that would not do in the royal presence. 
 — Heaven defend us! what another 
 blush was there, Emily ! but 1 don't 
 quarrel with it \ modesty and simplicity 
 will stand their ground, however fashion 
 may have perverted the general taste." 
 
 And, in fact, Mr. Valacort was in 
 raptures with his niece, and promised 
 himself much delight in watching the 
 impression her unaffected graces would 
 make upon the world, as welJ as the im- 
 pression of the w^orld upon her pure and 
 natural mind. 
 
 *' Just see who's dead and married, 
 and glance my eye over the lie of the 
 day as an opening for conversation," 
 said Mrs. Valacort, as she rapidly skim- 
 med the newspaper, which her husband 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 115 
 
 had put into her hand ; *' and then to 
 business ! By breakfasting at this early 
 hour, I escape the interruption of break- 
 fast-visitors, and settle all the engage- 
 ments for the day a tete reposee ; other- 
 wise one gets into fifty scrapes 1 — ;Reach 
 me the WJio' s- at-home ? my dear," point- 
 ing to a cedar-wood substitute for vulgar 
 card-racks which stood upon the chiffb- 
 7uere, <* let's see what parties I missed 
 going to last night, and whether any 
 thing beyond the usual apology is re- 
 quired." 
 
 *« What may the usual apology be ?" 
 thought Emily, who conceived the apo- 
 logy to imply some explanation of the 
 hindrance ; but, determined not to teaze 
 her aunt, or expose her own ignorance 
 by more questions than she could help, 
 she waited in silence for her instructions, 
 and was somewhat surprised at tlie con- 
 cise and cavalier style of the printed 
 cards of excuse, of which slie was di- 
 rected to fill up the blanks. 
 
116 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 " And is this all the civility required 
 for breaking an engagement ?** Emily 
 asked. 
 
 " Oh ! quite sufficient, except on par- 
 ticular occasions ; here are two that re- 
 quire a civil lie, so I shall write the notes 
 myself. I have not been to one of their 
 assemblies this winter, and they will 
 soon be giving balls, so I must keep in 
 favour." 
 
 It was like a new language to Emily, 
 at least, very certainly, they were new 
 ideas. " The age for dancing is not as 
 limited here, then, as I've been told it 
 used to be in France, where no woman 
 danced after thirty 1" she observed ; 
 rather sorry to think her aunt should re- 
 tain such a juvenile taste. 
 
 " But, then, you might have been 
 told also, that thirty was apt to be very 
 slow in its approaches ; however, my 
 dancing days were over long before that 
 prescribed term 5 I always disliked it." 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 117 
 
 ** Then, is not a ball a very dull thing 
 for a mere looker oa ?*' 
 
 " O no ! I should take it very ill not 
 to be asked. They are always select, 
 — and an elegant supper ! Though, 
 upon recollection, as I give balls myself, 
 I shall not be overlooked, so a printed 
 card will do." 
 
 ** Give balls when one has no young 
 people ! and go to them without liking to 
 dance ! What will my mother say when 
 she hears of it all?'' thought the wonder- 
 ing girl. 
 
 Notes without number poured in while 
 this employment was going on ; and 
 reading, canvassing, and answering, filled 
 up the time till the carriage was an- 
 nounced. 
 
 *' Now for dress-makers, milliners, and 
 jewellers to equip you properly for morn- 
 ing and evening exhibitions. I perceive 
 you are behind-hand in modes at the 
 Priory," said Mrs. Valacort. 
 
 <* I am vei;y sorry to give you so much 
 
118 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 additional trouble," Emilyreplied; ** how- 
 ever, that will be but for once ; and I 
 quite rejoice that I came in time to help 
 you through this wonderful influx of 
 notes." 
 
 <' It is pretty much the same every 
 day," she answered carelessly ; *' but 
 with regularity I get through it all. Re- 
 gularity is the soul of business ! If I in- 
 dulged in the customary breakfast hour 
 of one or two o'clock, I should always be 
 behind-hand." 
 
 They now hastened to milliners and 
 dress-makers innumerable. Some ex- 
 celled in one thing, some in another. 
 At Rundell and Bridges, an elegant and 
 complete assortment of pearls was selected, 
 with which Mrs. Valacort presented Emily 
 in her uncle's name ; adding some valu- 
 able trinkets and ornaments in her own. 
 She was really vain of her niece's beauty, 
 and eager to set it off to the best ad- 
 vantage y and all was done with so much 
 kindness and good-will, that, although 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 119 
 
 distressed by the costliness of the pre- 
 sents, a high gratification arose from the 
 affection that prompted the gift. 
 
 " Now we shall just get home by lun- 
 cheon-time/' said Mrs. Valacort ; and 
 Emily rejoiced in the unexpected com- 
 fort of the morning's business being so 
 soon over ; but here she found herself 
 widely mistaken. 
 
 No one happening to drop in at the 
 moment, luncheon was soon expedited. 
 On Emily's testifying surprise at the 
 splendid display of it, her aunt said, 
 *' There is always a hot thing or two 
 served since mutton-chops have come 
 into royal favour ; and as we are occa- 
 sionally honoured with royal visitors, it 
 is well to be prepared. Now," she con- 
 tinued, " go and equip yourself in some 
 of your new purchases. The barouche will 
 be at the door presently. We must make a 
 few morning calls, — not many, on ac- 
 count of dining early, that we may get 
 
120 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 to the ancient music. I'll make out the 
 list while you change your dress.'* 
 
 Emily obeyed ; and satisfied herself 
 that morning calls could only be on 
 intimate friends j so that would not recur 
 every day, any more than shopping. 
 
 Some visitors having been admitted, 
 delayed their setting forth again till 
 near four. *' See, my dear, whether the 
 barouche is at the door ?" said her aunt, 
 gathering her matters together. 
 
 " I suppose they conclude it too late for 
 visiting," said Emily, looking out, " and 
 expect us only to take an airing, for they 
 have let down the head." 
 
 " Too late ! it's exactly la belle heure! 
 and I always have the head down in 
 tolerable weather. No time for airings ! 
 I never can accomplish airing, but on a 
 Sunday 1" Mrs. Valacort replied. 
 
 ** And shan't we be sadly stared at in 
 the streets in an open carriage ?" 
 
 " Look along the street, you little 
 rustic !" laughing, *' and you will see an 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 121 
 
 open carriage of some description or 
 other at every door. Never fear my 
 making myself particular, Emily !" 
 
 " My dear aunt, I must not venture 
 to open my mouth before strangers, I 
 shall make you so ashamed of my igno- 
 rance." 
 
 *< There will be full as much cause for 
 pride as shame, in having such a pretty 
 creature to produce 1" replied Mrs. Va- 
 lacort, looking at her with complacency 
 and delight. 
 
 Emily, though feeling abashed at 
 hearing so much of her looks, had, how- 
 ever, too much sense and true modesty 
 to provoke farther praise by disqualifying 
 speeches, and simply answered, <* I am 
 very grateful for your partiality, my 
 aunt." 
 
 As her eye fell upon the list of visits, 
 she rather wondered at the number of 
 intimates ; but determined to betray no 
 more ignorance, she made no observ- 
 ation. 
 
 VOL, II. Q 
 
12^ DOMESTIC SCENES, 
 
 After about a dozen * not at home's/ 
 Mrs. Valacort said, *' If we continue 
 in such high luck as this, we shall get on 
 better than I had hoped V* 
 
 " High luck in missing one's friends i** 
 thought Emily ; but she was silent. 
 
 «* But I just recollect," resumed her 
 aunt, " that your hoop was to be brought 
 home ; and I must give you time for a 
 practice, before you dress for dinner." 
 
 " A practice ! — Of what ?" 
 
 *' Of the management of your hoop. 
 I have no objection to bringing out an 
 Evelina , but I mustn't have you quite a 
 N'inette a la cour,'* 
 
 This might have been Greek for any 
 thing Emily understood of it ; but she 
 concluded, * she should see,' as she had 
 been told on other occasions ; and Mrs. 
 Valacort, unconscious of her ignorance, 
 said no more. 
 
 Be it remembered, Emily was not born 
 in the days of hoops j and of a court- 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 123 
 
 dress she had no conception, not having 
 been in London since her childhood. 
 
 They continued in high luck ; wiped 
 off a long score of names from the list ; 
 and found the hoopmaker awaiting their 
 return. 
 
 Nothing could equal the amazement 
 of Emily, when she found, that to be fit 
 to appear at Court, it was necessary to 
 get into a machine that would make her 
 nearly as broad as she was high. " Is 
 there no possible exemption from this ?" 
 she exclaimed in dismay ; " I shall stick 
 in every door- way !" 
 
 " That is just what you are to practise 
 to avoid,*' said Mrs. Valacort. 
 
 This practice, indeed, seemed to Emily 
 the most ludicrous operation that ever 
 was thought of; but the hoopmaker as- 
 sured her it was what all the young ladies 
 were obliged to submit to before their 
 presentation, <* ever since the prepost- 
 erous Grecian lankness had come into 
 fashion ; but she remembered the time 
 G 2 
 
1^4 DOMESTIC SCENESr 
 
 when no lady could appear any wherewith- 
 out a hoop twice or three times the circum- 
 ference of this, — and a most becoming 
 majestic air it had 1" said the old woman, 
 " just like a man-of-war in full sail, as I 
 have heard the gentlemen say when I 
 have been trying them on their ladies." 
 
 This harangue was almost as enter- 
 taining to Mrs. Valacort as to her niece, 
 having strongly in her mind two recent 
 instances of the majesty so described — 
 neither of whom, however, caused her to 
 join in the reprobation of Grecian lank- 
 ness. " But what would have become 
 of you, Emily?" she said, ** in the former 
 birth-day balls, when country-dances 
 were danced in such a whalebone incum- 
 brance." 
 
 *' I should have become, what I am 
 very mucli afraid will be my fate now, 
 very ridiculous ! Do, my dear aunt, let 
 me off from this terrible drawing-room 
 business ; and suffer me to take my chance 
 of such of your acquaintance as will ad- 
 
150MEST1C SCENES. l^^ 
 
 writ me without it. You can't imagine 
 how I shall enjoy being left at home some- 
 times." 
 
 " Impossible 1 notice has been given 
 to the lady in waiting," 
 
 Mr. Valacort brought home two or 
 three members to dinner — The House 
 having broken up unexpectedly ; Lord 
 Leonard Ormsby was one of them. The 
 pleasure expressed on both sides at meet- 
 ing, led Mrs. Valacort to set him down 
 as her niece's admirer; and she was by 
 no means dissatisfied with the discovery. 
 
 The conversation at dinner turned 
 upon some important question that had 
 been lately debated ; and Lord Leonard 
 said, '* 1 was quite vexed at the poor 
 figure Belmont made.^' 
 
 ** We thought better of him when he 
 was one of us," replied his neighbour 
 smiling; ** but let me tell you, it's a 
 cursed awkward thing when a man is 
 bound to support a measure against his 
 own opinion of it." 
 
 G 3 
 
126 DOMESTIC SCENES* 
 
 *' Aye !*' said another, ** he fairly told 
 
 us at the club it was all a d d job ; 
 
 but he was expected to speak, and couldn't 
 help himself." 
 
 Emily, ever in some degree discon- 
 certed by the name of Belmont, expe- 
 rienced a sense of grief and mortification 
 at every new instance of his dereliction 
 from those virtues with which her fond 
 imagination had for so many years adorned 
 him. The feeling manifested itself in 
 her expressive countenance, so as to at- 
 tract the observation, and excite the cu- 
 riosity of Lord Leonard; but he knew not 
 how to interpret it. 
 
 Mrs. Valacort rose from table on the 
 removal of the desert, saying, *« I can't 
 stop to give you coffee, lest we should be 
 too late for the ancient music.'* 
 
 <* You will have lost the best half of 
 that as it is 1" was observed, 
 
 •* The second act is always quite 
 enough for me!" she replied. 
 
 Emily, to whom the idea of the 
 
BOMESTIC SCENES. 1^7 
 
 lughly-finished style in which she had 
 been told this music was performed was 
 delightful in the extreme, could have 
 wished her aunt less easily satisfied, 
 
 " If music is really such an object to 
 you, ril get you an order of admission to 
 the Monday-morning rehearsals/provided 
 you don't expect me to go with you," 
 said Mrs. Valacort to her. 
 
 " No, pray don't !" cried Emily, 
 ** mornings are far too precious to be 
 sacrificed to mere amusement, however 
 strong the temptation." 
 
 " Aye, true; duties ought to go firsts" 
 said Mrs. Valacort, ** and it is difficult 
 enough to find time for them in Lon- 
 don." Emily began to be aware that 
 words in London did not exactly bear 
 the signification they did in the country. 
 
 " Now I shall set you down at home," 
 said Mrs. Valacort, as they got into the 
 carriage after the concert ; and you may 
 order up the sandwich-tray, for I shall 
 shirk Lady Marsden's supper ; only just 
 G 4 
 
128 , DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 show myself at a couple of houses where 
 I have been deficient all the winter, and 
 be with you presently ; for I shall have 
 to rout out early to-morrow morning, on 
 account of our Jriseur, he's in such re- 
 quest on court-days ; he must be caught 
 as he may. Don't wait for me, however, 
 in case I meet with unexpected delays, 
 you poor sleepy thing ! you look quite 
 tired now 5 I had forgot your being used 
 to go to bed with the chickens." 
 
 The more kindness her aunt showed 
 and expressed for her, the greater was 
 Emily's regret at the hourly encreasing 
 conviction of her being the most dissi- 
 pated woman in the world. 
 
 On the following morning, by eleven 
 o'clock, Monsieur Pompon and his at- 
 tendant made their appearance. Jenny 
 ran up laughing : ** I declare. Ma'am, if 
 I didn't think here was company coming, 
 and it's Mounseer, the hair-dresser, in a 
 gig ; and Mrs. Valacort sends word, as 
 you are to take him first, if you please." 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 1^9 
 
 Pompon being admitted, set his aid-de- 
 camp to work, to put in Papillottes ; 
 opened his Cartons , and began displaying 
 feathers and flowers in such profusion as 
 quite alarmed Emily's quiet taste. ^ As 
 simple as may be, not to appear parti- 
 cular, if you please. Monsieur — This 
 pearl bandeau, of course, and a feather 
 or two, if necessary, — but no flowers," 
 she said. 
 
 He admitted the elegance of pearls 
 and feathers, without flowers ; and began 
 placing the feathers. When he had got 
 the lengtii of three, she wanted to stop 
 his hand ; but he assured her it would be 
 absolument mesquin ; so she reluctantly 
 suffered him to proceed to five ; but, as 
 he still went on selecting more, she be- 
 came quite refractory. He appealed to 
 Madame. Jenny was deputed with the 
 appeal. She brought back word that 
 Pompon dressed the Ladies Dangerville, 
 who were the models of taste. Pompon 
 declared they never had fewer than nine j 
 G 5 
 
130 DOMESTIC SCE'NES. 
 
 and frequently fourteen. Upon this 
 Emily started from under his hands; and 
 flew to Mrs. Valacort. " My dear aunt, 
 he really is going to make a Peruvian 
 Cacique of me ! Are not five feathers 
 quite enough for every possible purpose 
 but flying ?" 
 
 ** If it distresses you so very much, 
 your head may certainly pass. They are 
 well put on, and become you." 
 
 Away ran Emily. '' Put up your 
 box. Monsieur ; not another shall find 
 place upon my poor loaded head. I 
 shall have trouble enough to bring these 
 safe back " 
 
 Pompon shrugged his shoulders ; beg- 
 ged it might be understood that he was 
 not responsahle. Mademoiselle was si 
 telle that she might certainly dispense 
 with what she thought proper, and be 
 a ravir ; but he could not help observing, 
 that la decence sembloit ea;iger, that une 
 presentation, should have its full comple- 
 ment of feathers. 
 
 17 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 131 
 
 Emily engaged to acquit hiyn of the 
 incongruity to whomever it might con- 
 cern. 
 
 Next came Madame Clinquant, who 
 had been sufficiently struck with Emily, 
 to expect great credit from dressing her. 
 She had paid particular attention to the 
 dress, and now came to see it put on 
 herself. Pompon being gone, she and 
 Emily were sent for into Mrs. Valacort's 
 dressing-room. The circumstance of 
 dressing before strangers was not wholly 
 devoid of distress to the poor novice, till 
 her aunt on perceiving it told her laugh- 
 ingly, " She was in high luck to escape 
 so; had I not borne in mind your rus- 
 ticity, half-a-dozen of my intimates would 
 have had leave to attend this operation," 
 she said. 
 
 Emily certainly felt comparative relief 
 in that idea ; with very earnest entreaty, 
 she also had the comfort of obtaining a 
 little more of covering than had been 
 intended, and when all was said and 
 G 6 
 
132 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 done, the superintendant of the toilette 
 declared herself perfectly satisfied que 
 Mademoiselle ejfageroit toutes les heautes 
 de la cour ; while poor Emily, who had 
 never before beheld Court or court-dress, 
 thought there never was such another 
 preposterous figure as they had made ot 
 her. 
 
 As they were about to encounter the 
 crowd on the stair case at B — house Mrs. 
 Valacort said, " Now keep close to me, 
 Emily ! and, for heaven's sake, don't be 
 civil !" 
 
 Emily was far from taking in the full 
 import of these words, which, fairly trans- 
 lated, implied, " Be as rude as in a bear- 
 garden;" she conceived they simply meant, 
 not civilly keeping back to let others pass. 
 Though she had been somewhat dismay- 
 ed by the crossed halberds of the beef- 
 eaters at the door, she stuck close to her 
 aunt, and got up stairs without much 
 difficulty; but when they came to the 
 formidable door-way of the first apart- 
 ment, it was a very different affair indeed! 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 133 
 
 Mrs. Valacort was an excellent manoeuv- 
 rer in a crowd, and made her way with 
 great dexterity and little scruple ; but for 
 the warfare of hoops and elbows to 
 which she was now exposed, poor Emily 
 was not at all prepared, and her motions 
 werebecoming retrograde, when onemore 
 than commonly determined elbow came 
 into such forcible contact with her side, 
 that the pain turned her faint, and she 
 shrunk entirely from the contest, by which 
 means she was soon shoved back to the 
 head of the stairs. Lord Cranmore was 
 JQSt ascending them; with an excla- 
 mation of astonishment, mixed with 
 alarm at her pale and distressed appear- 
 ance, he caught hold of her, as she seemed 
 scarce able to support herself; and with 
 extreme difficulty, and very little respect 
 for lappets and trimmings, he got her 
 down the stair, and depositing her in a 
 window of one of the passages, he threw 
 it up to give her air, and then went to 
 obtain a glass of water by means of one 
 of the beef-eaters. 
 
134 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 By the time he returned, she found 
 herself so far recovered, that she pro- 
 posed making another attempt with his 
 assistance ; but he assured her it would 
 be fruitless — there could be no chance 
 of her joining her aunt, before she must 
 have been spoken to, and passed on — 
 but if she would allow him to attend her 
 back into the lower apartments, he would 
 then endeavour to find Mrs. Valacort, 
 and inform her of what had happened. 
 To this she agreed, and, having seated 
 her in safety, he left her. 
 
 Meanwhile Mrs. Valacort missing her, 
 and guessing in part what had occurred, 
 had, however, no option, being now 
 forced forward, whether she would or no, 
 to where the Q stood. The pre- 
 sentations were so numerous, that not 
 one in ten was spoken to, but of Mrs. 
 Valacort, a gracious enquiry was made 
 after her pretty niece, which afforded 
 her the means of explaining what she 
 conjectured to have happened. This 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 135 
 
 was followed by a remark upon the dis- 
 tinct character of Miss Villars's beauty 
 from that of her sister, Mrs. Delmere, 
 which astonished Mrs. Valacort, not at 
 the moment recollecting, by how much, 
 " in a great matter or a small," her 
 M was known to be the best in- 
 formed woman of the United Kingdoms, 
 and aware that Emily had scarcely yet 
 been seen : delighted, however, to find 
 Mrs. Delmere's seclusion had not obli- 
 terated the impression of her charms, 
 (for who can help being flattered by the 
 proof of living in R — 1 memory ?) she 
 not only replied by an elegantly-turned 
 compliment, which, from the fear of mu- 
 tilating it, shall not be here repeated — 
 but she made it her very earnest request 
 on her return home, that her husband 
 should absent himself from the House 
 next day upon a question, where he must 
 necessarily vote against ministry: not, 
 however, having exposed himself to the 
 same fascination, he resisted her wish. 
 
136 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 Well is it that Princes are not more 
 aware to what dangers aflfabihty and 
 smiles would expose the consciences of 
 their subjects. 
 
 "Whilst Lord Cranmore was gone in 
 quest of" Mrs. Valacort, Lord Leonard 
 Ormsby and Lord Belmont had, almost 
 at the same moment, discovered Emily, 
 and stationed themselves as her protect- 
 ors, till her ambassador should bring 
 word what her aunt might wish her to 
 do. 
 
 Belmont's expression of joyful surprise 
 on beholding her bordered so much on 
 the familiar levity which she considered 
 an insult, as highly to displease her. 
 She answered him with cold and distant 
 civility, and endeavoured to confine her 
 conversation solely to Lord Leonard. 
 
 Mrs. Valacort soon came to her, Lord 
 Cranmore having luckily met with her 
 coming down the stair, and explained 
 poor Emily's misadventure. ** And we 
 have nothing left i'or it uovv', but to find 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 137 
 
 our way to the carriage as fast as we 
 can," said Mrs. Valacort : ** any further 
 attempt is out of the question." 
 
 Lord Behnont put himself forward to 
 offer his arm to Emily, but with calm 
 dignity she passed it by, and took Lord 
 Leonard Ormsby's. Conscious of. the 
 repulse, but satisfied that Emily was not 
 Lord Leonard's object, he prudently 
 gave way, without seeming to perceive 
 it; and said to Mrs. Valacort, ** Lady 
 Sabina is not yet informed of Miss Villars's 
 being in town ; but will, I am certain, 
 wish, with your leave, to take an early 
 opportunity of paying her respects in 
 Stanhope-steeet. Meanwhile, 1 can an- 
 swer for the pleasure with which she will, 
 at any time, supply your place as cha- 
 peron to Laura's friend ; the sisters go 
 every where together. I must novv re- 
 trace my steps, or I shall be too late to 
 pay my court;' and, with a submissive 
 bow to Emily, he passed on. 
 
138 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 *« Not being in office/* said Lord 
 Leonard, *' I need not mind, though I 
 were to lose the opportunity of paying 
 my court ; so I shall not relinquish my 
 charge, till I see you safely out of this 
 bustle.'* 
 
 ** And I could wish," said Mrs. Vala- 
 cort, ** it were your farther pleasure to 
 come and ascertain Emily's being alive at 
 dinner-time after this morning's adven- 
 ture, and prevail with Lord Cranmore to 
 join you." 
 
 The brothers, with evident pleasure, 
 accepted the invitation. 
 
 " Didn't I warn you against civility ? 
 you little, incorrigible rustic!" said Mrs. 
 Valacort, as they drove home. 
 
 ** I do assure you, my dear aunt, it 
 was self-preservation that obliged me to 
 give way. My sides are quite bruised 
 with the elbows thev encountered. I 
 hope I shall never have to fight my way 
 through a quality mob again -, my home- 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 139 
 
 bred habits are not up to such encoun- 
 ters." 
 
 " YoQ must never attempt then to 
 stay a ball-supper," said Mrs. Valacort. 
 
 <« I'm sure I would give up all the 
 pleasure of the dance afterwards, which 
 is always the best of the night, rather 
 than pay such a price for it. Had I not 
 been so fortunately recognised by Lord 
 Cranmore, I am persuaded I should have 
 fainted in the midst of them." 
 
 ** Those two brothers seem to take a 
 very obliging interest in you," was the 
 playful reply. <* I perceive there may 
 be a very agreeable little spice of coquet- 
 ry mixed up with rural simplicity. I did 
 not suspect its existence in your demure 
 ways, Emily. 
 
 " Rest assured you will never find it : 
 I should hate myself, were I capable of 
 what I so strongly reprobate," she an- 
 swered very gravely, the late mortifying 
 discovery of Laura's turn that way recur- 
 ring fully to her mind. 
 
140 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 ** Nay, child, you need not look so 
 desperately grave about the matter : I 
 am accusing you of nothing very hei- 
 nous ; but I shall hope to be let into 
 your secrets in time, Emily, and then 
 you may rely upon my never making 
 sport of what may distress you." 
 
 ** I have no secrets but what you may 
 command, whenever affection shall 
 prompt your enquiry into them.'* 
 
 ** Well ! I shall let you rest now, that 
 you may recover yourself by dinner-time, 
 for we have some more men coming be- 
 sides your lords, and you look quite pale 
 and lagged." 
 
 " The getting off all my paraphernalia 
 will recover me as much as any thing, 
 for I seriously ache under the weight of 
 it." 
 
 <* Poor child !" laughing: " Yes, you 
 may be disencumbered of the hoop, and, 
 indeed, by the state of your drapery, 
 from it all j for I perceive the fatal effects 
 of the conflict on the tassels and festoons." 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 141 
 
 " And the feathers may go too, I 
 hope." 
 
 " No ; the feathers cannot be dis- 
 pensed with. All the court heads will 
 be exhibited at Mrs. Waller's assembly 
 to-night ; and as we failed in the actual 
 presentation, it is the more necessary to 
 show it was intended." 
 
 " And these dangling lappets ; con- 
 sider I have not been taught like Lady 
 Sabina ; I shall have them in my soup." 
 
 " Chalmers shall pin them up, so as to 
 make a very pretty addition to the head- 
 dress ; they must remain." 
 
 Poor Emily, obliged to acquiesce, 
 was, however, agreeably surprised, upon 
 catching her own figure in the pier-glass 
 as she passed it, to observe how much 
 less ludicrous it appeared to her than when 
 she had set out : indeed, she now ftlt a 
 very comfortable consciousness, that it 
 was by far the least extravagant attire 
 her eyes had rested on the whole morn- 
 
142 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 ing, for even her aunt's plume greatly 
 exceeded her own. 
 
 Emily felt no slight enjoyment in the 
 hours of quiet, which solicitude for her 
 looks had ohtained her, when she heard 
 how incessantly the knocker kept going, 
 nor could she imagine whence the visit- 
 ors could all come, as she believed the 
 crowd at court to have comprised the 
 whole fashionable world, till set right by 
 the information, " that there had not 
 been a creature there, except those in 
 office, and who had presentations to 
 make.'* 
 
 She was much gratified, upon entering 
 the drawing-room, to find her brother 
 among the dinner guests. 
 
 Mrs. Valacort, observing the remains 
 of fatigue on Emily's countenance, kindly 
 said, " I think, my dear, we will cut 
 every thing to-night, except Mrs. Waller's 
 assembly, and there we need not go till 
 towards twelve, so you will have plenty 
 of time to recover," 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 143 
 
 «* I didn't know there was any other 
 engagement on hand for to-night/' re- 
 plied Emily, not too happy in the pros- 
 pect of setting out in quest of amusement 
 at midnight. 
 
 " Half-a-dozen, I dare swear/' said 
 Mrs. Valacort : *' the catches and glees 
 for one, though that I generally cut ; I 
 only put my name down to please the 
 old Duchess of Squeakem, who patronises 
 the leader." 
 
 ** Ladies are never bound to know their 
 engagements before-hand, I believe," 
 said Lord Granmore : " I see my mother 
 and sister look over the at-home's for 
 the evening, when the carriage comes to 
 the door." 
 
 " Yes ; and select those that promise 
 best in point of company : that's the 
 way," said Mrs. Valacort. 
 
 ** But then don't you give offence 
 where you don't go?" Emily asked. 
 
 *« Oh, no 1 all that is understood, and 
 one tells some civil lie, if it should hap- 
 pen to cut out the same person too often. 
 
145 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 and that she is of sufficient consequence 
 to be worth keeping well with." 
 
 Emily made no reply, but Lord Cran- 
 more read her thoughts in her counte- 
 nance, and was delighted to mark her 
 evident dissent from forms established 
 by selfishness and impertinence. Mrs. 
 Valacort was not, however, remarkable 
 either for the one or the other j but she 
 fell into the prevailing ease of the day 
 from habit, without ever troubling her- 
 self to reflect upon its tendency. As 
 they were taking their coffee, she said to 
 her niece, ** Now look into the who's-at- 
 home, and let us ascertain what we are 
 giving up to-night." 
 
 ** You don't seem to follow the usual 
 mode of selection," Emily said ; ** for 
 here are marchionesses and countesses 
 given up, and we are going to a simple 
 Mrs." 
 
 Lord Leonard smiled, and with some- 
 thing of an arch glance at Mrs. Valacort, 
 said, ** You will soon become aware. 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 145 
 
 Miss Villars, of the triumph of ton over 
 title in the heaii-monde,^^ 
 
 <* I put my aunt's patience to the test 
 every hour of the day by my ignorance,'* 
 said Emily. 
 
 " We shall all be inclined, I believe, to 
 deem your ignorance your ornament,'* 
 said Lord Cranmore. 
 
 " Come ! now let's have a quiet 
 rubber!" cried Mrs. Valacort, ordering 
 the card-table; and Lord Leonard and 
 two more sat down with her to whist. 
 
 " French fives ? short?" — the gentle- 
 men assented. 
 
 « Now, what does that mean?" Emily 
 asked Lord Cranmore. 
 
 " That's more than I can tell," he re- 
 plied : " what does it mean, Leonard ?'* 
 
 " That a couple of deals may transfer 
 forty pounds of Mrs. Valacoit's property 
 into my pocket," said Lord Leonard. 
 
 Emily shuddered, and turned pale. 
 " My aunt is then also a gambler !" was 
 her distressing reflection. 
 
 VOL. II. H 
 
140 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 " Are you musical, Emily ?" asked 
 Mr. Valacort. 
 
 " I don't suppose I could have any 
 claim to be reckoned so here, but my 
 father sometimes says I draw his thoughts 
 from his gouty limbs by my performance." 
 
 " If you drew them from his News- 
 paper it might be a greater boast," said 
 Mr. Valacort. " Is your father as great 
 a politician as ever, Henry ?" 
 . " He could not be more zealous if the 
 weal of the nation turned upon his vote." 
 - " I wish he would bite you — I want 
 you in Parliament, Henry." 
 
 " When I perceive the good that 
 honest intentions can produce there, I 
 *hall be very willing — but Emily, have 
 you not tried that fine instrument in the 
 next room yet ?" 
 
 " I meant it yesterday morning, and 
 came down an hour before breakfast-time 
 for the purpose, but found the shutters 
 just unbarring, and the housemaids in 
 possession of the room — and since that 
 there has not been a leisure moment." 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 147 
 
 <^ You will find your time very fully 
 occupied during your stay," Lord Cran- 
 more observed. 
 
 *' Filled up you mean !** she returned, 
 with a smile. 
 
 , <* I stand corrected : occupation bears 
 a different meaning in your vocabulary, 
 I know; but will you not take advan- 
 tage of this moment's respite to try the 
 instrument?" 
 
 " Shall I not disturb the whist table?" 
 
 " We shan't hear you Emily," said her 
 aunt. 
 
 ** Speak for yourself, Mrs. Valacort," 
 said Lord Leonard. 
 
 ** Do your utmost then, Emily! for 
 he's my antagonist," laughing. 
 
 " Shut the folding doors, Henry! 'tis 
 not fair to disturb their game ;" said Mr. 
 Valacort. 
 
 The doors were shut; and Emily 
 
 charmed her uncle by her tones and her 
 
 expression. He was passionately fond of 
 
 music, and no bad performer on the vio- 
 
 H 2 
 
148 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 loncello — ** I had no conception of so 
 delightful a performance as this !" he ex- 
 claimed. ** 1 shall give you little rest when 
 I catch you at home, I promise you 1" 
 
 " My aunt does not intend that should 
 be too often, as far as I can judge," re- 
 plied Emily. 
 
 ** A little rest might, however, be desir- 
 able just at present, if Emily's pale looks 
 speak truth," said Henry. 
 
 " You did well to call my attention to 
 them," observed his uncle ; " I should 
 have had no mercy, and Caroline would 
 not have forgiven me, she's so anxious 
 Emily should look her best, on her fii-st 
 appearance ; so let's adjourn." 
 
 " Lord bless me! — how you have been 
 fagging her !" cried Mrs. Valacort, when 
 they returned into the room; ** Do fetch 
 your work, for country ladies always 
 work, and sit down quietly here by me, 
 and neither speak nor move till it is 
 time to go, — and order tea, Lionel! that 
 will help to revive her." 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 149 
 
 Emily went for her work, and brought 
 it to the corner of the table \vhere the 
 candle stood ; but, unused to attend to 
 where her feathers might reach, in stoop- 
 ing to her work, she set them on fire. 
 Lord Cranmore was, at that moment, ap- 
 proaching to bid her good night ; when, 
 perceiving the blaze, he rushed forward, 
 exclaiming, ** My God ! her beautiful 
 hair!" — and clapped his opera-hat upon 
 her head The conflagration had been so 
 instantaneous that Emily herself was 
 unconscious of it ; and her sudden start 
 and shriek, together with Lord Leonard's 
 burst of '* What the devil, Cranmore ! are 
 you mad?*' turned all eyes at once to her 
 appearance with the opera-hat upon her 
 head. The astonishment excited produced 
 a mixture of agitated surprise and laugh- 
 ter ; and great approbation of the judi- 
 cious manoeuvre, when the removal of the 
 hat displayed the consumed feathers and 
 unsinged hair 5 which in Emily, however, 
 altogether bordered so nearly upon hys- 
 H 3 
 
loO DOMESTIC SCENESr 
 
 terics that Mrs. Valacoit immediately rung 
 lor her maid, and advising her to retire, 
 prudently determined against taking her 
 into company that night: observing, after 
 she was gone, '< I could not bear to have 
 her seen to such disadvantage, after all the 
 expectations that have been raised about 
 her beauty 5 so, if you will be the bearer 
 of my excuses, Lionel, and tell what has 
 happened, we may go on with our whist; 
 provided my beaux prove staunch, that 
 is to say ; or if not, you might pick 
 me up a recruit or two where you are 
 
 going-" 
 
 The gentlemen professed themselve&^ 
 
 at her disposal " till two ;" Lord Leonard 
 
 added, *' and then I must look in at the 
 
 Duchess of Darwent's supper." 
 
 ** Very true I" said Mrs. Valacort^ 
 *< she mentioned it to me at the drawing- 
 room y and the various worries about 
 Emily, put it quite out of my head ; come 
 back for me then, Lionel, and I may look 
 in there also." 
 
 And so the matter was arranged* 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES, 151 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 The following day Henry attended Mrs. 
 Valacort's breakfast table. 
 
 " The morning is so very fine," he 
 said, " that I think a walk in the Park 
 will do Emily good, and prepare her for 
 the business of the day." 
 
 " I protest that's a bright thought, 
 Henry !" Mrs.Valacort replied ; *< for see 
 what a rag she looks with the adventures 
 of yesterday ! they may talk of the health of 
 the country, but I'll pit a thorough-paced 
 town Miss, against any half-dozen coun- 
 try girls for standing fatigue ! You may 
 lounge about Kensington-gardens, and 
 ril excuse your shopping with me to-day, 
 provided you are back in time for lun- 
 cheon, and the morning visits that must 
 be made. 
 
 H 4 
 
15^ DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 " Shopping again !" cried Emily, ** I 
 thought we had done all yesterday that 
 could be wanted in that way, for a month 
 to come." 
 
 Mrs. Valacort laughed : *' That's a bu- 
 siness * still beginning never ending,' as 
 you'll find by experience, but I shall not 
 insist upon your sharing it when fresh 
 air may be more beneficial to you. — I 
 have appointed James to be your Laquais 
 de 2^^^ce while you stay ; so tell him, 
 Bonaire, to be ready to attend Miss Vil- 
 lars in an hour's time." 
 
 Emily's eyes sparkled with pleasure at 
 the substitution of an agreeable walk to 
 the miseries of shopping : the Park had 
 been an object of interest to her from 
 her first glimpse of it out of the balcony, 
 and she had almost despaired of ever 
 being allowed time to enjoy it. She would 
 willingly have dispensed with the appen- 
 dage of the servant, -d couldn't under- 
 stand why her brother was not a sufficient 
 protection j but was over-ruled by her 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 153 
 
 aunt, who astonished her with the Inform- 
 ation, that the protecting her might 
 bring her brother into difficulties, if the 
 respectability of a livery servant did not 
 ward off the danger of insult. This being 
 settled, 
 
 ** I hope, dear aunt/' said Emily en- 
 quiringly, ** fortune continued favourable 
 to you, after the disturbance I so awk- 
 wardly caused at the card table, last 
 night ?" 
 
 ** No ; I lost ; but nothing worth 
 speaking of: I never play deep.'' 
 
 Poor Emily, whose slumbers had been 
 broken by melancholy reflections on Mrs. 
 Valacort's turn for gambling, brightened 
 up. ** Then, it was a piece of wit of 
 Lord Leonard Ormsby's, to say that two 
 deals might transfer forty pounds of your 
 property into his pocket." 
 
 " No, little simpleton ! he said true 
 enough ; but that's not called deep play! 
 deep play goes by hundreds, and I 
 H 5 
 
154 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 never so much as bet a pony on the 
 rubber." 
 
 " The idea of that bet, is taken, I con- 
 clude, from the Comte de Grammont !'^ 
 said Henry, ** and I hope they follow up 
 his joke of ' giving a horse for card 
 money *, by allotting a colt, or a donkey 
 at least, tor that purpose 1'* 
 
 " Not quite so spirited as that 1'' re- 
 turned Mrs. Valacort, amused with the 
 allusion ; *« but I suppose you know a 
 pony means a half rouleau." 
 
 " I am obliged to confess," resumed 
 Henry, *' that the explanation leaves me 
 as much in the dark as the expression." 
 
 " Mercy defend us, Henry ! what 
 Gothic ignorance of club terms ! that all 
 this should be Hebrew and Greek to 
 Emily is excusable, but I declare if 
 you do not get better initiated in worldly 
 knowledge, I shall blush to own you 
 
 * See Memoircs du Comte dc Grammontr 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 155 
 
 for my nephew ; why then, a rouleau in 
 the days of guineas — " 
 
 " May I not plead an extenuating 
 alibi there?" interrupted Henry, " I 
 think I was not brought to light in those 
 days." 
 
 " But the name has remained in full 
 force, though the specie has disappeared j 
 so your salvo will not exonerate you ; 
 know then, that a rouleau meant fifty 
 guineas, neatly put up in paper, sealed at 
 both ends, and circulated from hand to 
 hand, upon good faith, at the card tables 
 without counting ; of course, your com- 
 prehension can now reach to the disco- 
 very that a half rouleau will be five-and- 
 twenty !" 
 
 <' Why nearly ; but still how it came 
 to be called a pony ?" 
 
 ** O ! that arose from a joke at one of 
 the clubs ; a member declared at his en- 
 trance, that he was determined cot to 
 rise without winning a rouleau, as that 
 would exactly purchase a horse be had 
 H 6 
 
156 DOMESTIC SCENi:S. 
 
 just seen ; the game broke up, however, 
 when he had only won half a rouleau. 
 •* Now you must be content with a pony!" 
 observed a wit, and from that time the 
 name has passed current. So now, Henry, 
 do give yourself the credit of knowing 
 something about clubs, as opportunity 
 may offer of retailing this anecdote." 
 
 ** How lamentable !" said Emily to her 
 brother, in their subsequent walk, ** to 
 find my aunt one of the most dissipated 
 women in London !" 
 
 " You do her injustice in calling her 
 so," he replied; " for a woman of ton I 
 have heard her reckoned quiet." 
 
 " Dearest Henry 1 what then may the 
 dashers be ?" 
 
 Henry gave her such an account of 
 some of them, as almost made her hair 
 stand on end, though it imparted a degree 
 of comfort respecting Mrs. Valacort. 
 
 They had not proceeded far, when 
 they were joined by Lord Cranmore. 
 Having called to enquire for Emily, after 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 157 
 
 her fright, he had been informed by Mrs. 
 Valacort that she had sent her to recover 
 a httle bloom in the Park. 
 
 An extraordinary flashy equipage 
 
 caught their eye. ** Lady S S 
 
 out at this early hour!" exclaimed Lord 
 Cranmore, *' when only nurses and chil- 
 dren can be the expected beholders !" 
 
 Emily was surprised and amused with 
 the explanation of the splendid decora- 
 tions of the carriage. *' That name,*' 
 continued she, ** brings to my recollec- 
 tion the invalid children Lord Leonard 
 took such an interest in at Your Lord- 
 ship's cottage, pretty creatures ! we used 
 to admire them when we met them in 
 our walks ! I hope they quite recovered 
 their health.'' 
 
 *« No; I can't say they — Oh I yes, 
 quite! — that is — I beg pardon, I don't 
 very v/ell know," stammered out Lord 
 Cranmore, in extreme confusion. 
 
 The name having caught Henry's ear 
 likewise, who had been giving way to a 
 
15S DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 fit of absence, now starting from it, he 
 exclaimed, " A whimsical-enough cir- 
 cumstance occurred yesterday, when I 
 went to enquire for Your Lordship at the 
 Marquis of Kingsboro's : the porter, 
 on casting his eye upon my card, said, if 
 I had any very particular business, I 
 might possibly meet with you at No. 10. 
 Norfolk- Street. I certainly had no such 
 plea ; but wishing to see you, and think- 
 ing of no other Norfolk-Street than that 
 I so constantly passed in my way to my 
 chambers, I took my chance of finding 
 you — '* 
 
 " I was at the drawing-room," inter- 
 rupted Lord Cranmore, precipitately, 
 ** most fortunately engaged in Miss Vil- 
 lars's service ! did she tell you ?" — 
 
 ** O ! yes ; and I wished for an oppor- 
 tunity of making my acknowledgments 
 yesterday after dinner, but something or 
 other constantly came in the way.'* 
 
 ** Not the smallest occasion for any 
 thing of the sort !" again interrupted 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 159 
 
 Lord Cranmore, with increased confu- 
 sion at having, in his eagerness to ward 
 off the subject, forgotten that Henry had 
 been present at all that passed at dinner 
 relative to poor Emily's morning dis- 
 comfiture. 
 
 *< But I was going to tell you of 
 my blunder," resumed the unconscious 
 Henry : " When I got to No. 10. of 
 Norfolk-Street, the Strand, I found the 
 door of the house open, and a tradesman 
 standing within j finding he was waiting 
 the return of a servant, I waited like- 
 wise : in a minute, a little rosy-cheeked 
 cherub popped her head out of the par- 
 lour, but, on seeing me, slammed the 
 door to again, but not before I had caught 
 sight of a very pretty-looking young 
 woman, which convinced me I was 
 wrong : I stopped, however, for the 
 servant to direct me, but she could tell 
 of no lord in that street ; this was Mrs. 
 Sidney's, and I might go into the parlour 
 and ask her mistress, if I pleased, she 
 
J 60 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 said ; this gracious proposal I prudently 
 declined. The girl spoke with a north- 
 country accent, and did not seem much 
 an fait of London manners, so I may do 
 her mistress injustice; but you'll allow 
 it took the agreeable turn of an adven- 
 ture, if a more chivalrous wight than I 
 can boast myself to be, had chosen to 
 follow it up. I conclude new Norfolk- 
 Street is where the porter meant to send 
 me.'' 
 
 Lord Cranmore had dropped behind 
 during this speech, and as Henry turned 
 to appeal to him for the direction, he sud- 
 denly put his handkerchief up to his face, 
 saying, in a half whisper, ** Have the 
 goodness to make my excuse to Miss 
 Villars ; my nose has just gushed out 
 with blood !" And he darted through 
 the nearest gate, and disappeared. 
 
 Emily overhearing the whisper, attri- 
 buted his evident confusion to finding 
 himself unwell, and Henry had not par- 
 ticularly attended to it. 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. l6l 
 
 As they returned from their walk, 
 wishing to show his sister Grosvenor- 
 .Square, he Iiad brought her out at 
 Grosvenor-gate. Passing along South 
 Audley-street, they found themselves in 
 a crowd at the door of a pouUerer's j 
 the tone of a v'ery distressed female voice 
 caught their ear, and they enquired what 
 was the matter ? 
 
 " Matter enough, sir ;" answered a 
 respectable looking tradesman — ** These 
 are honest people as ever broke bread, 
 but they serve the quality for the most 
 part, and as I tell my wife, that goes far- 
 ther in honour than in cash ; she's 
 mighty apt, sir, to think it a great matter 
 if she can clap a title down in her book." 
 
 '« Well, but what has happened here ?" 
 
 " Why, as far as I can find, the bailiffs 
 wants to take the man to prison, and its 
 my belief its a malicious arrest ; for the 
 wafe, she showed by the books as there's 
 more money due to them, by hundreds^ 
 than this here paltry debt ; and the chiU 
 
1G2 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 tiren they cried very hard, and the bailifft 
 doesn't seem so savage-like as some are ; 
 so they've agreed to wait till the shop-boy 
 goes round the corner, to see if he can 
 get payment from a customer.'* 
 
 Just then the lad returned, with a dis- 
 mal countenance, — " The housekeeper's 
 not within, and the squire's rode out on 
 horseback, and madam have got one of 
 
 the r 1 family visiting, and there's all 
 
 the grand servants in the hall, and the 
 lady can't be spoken with.*' 
 
 " Aye, that's the way," resumed the 
 tradesman ; " never can be spoken with 
 when a poor shopkeeper." — 
 
 Here the poor woman's screams of 
 vexation and disappointment broke into 
 his observation. *« It must be the will 
 of God 1" she cried, wringing her hands, 
 " for sure it must, that poor Thomas 
 shx>«ld go to prison ; for these here cus- 
 tomers used to be the best pay that ever 
 was. I can't hear of no ruin going 
 on—" 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. l6S 
 
 " Does my uncle deal with these peo- 
 ple, James ?" Emily asked eagerly. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am ; he's our poulterer." 
 
 *< It must — it must be them she is 
 speaking of !'* exclaimed Emily — ** What 
 is the name of the family you sent to ?" 
 
 <* Squire Valacort's, ma'am.*' 
 
 '* Oh, for Heaven's sake, Henry ! en- 
 treat the bailiffs to have patience while I 
 go to my aunt." 
 
 One of the bailiffs had actually some 
 knowledge of the people, and was willing 
 to give them all the chance he could ; so 
 he readily listened to Henry's persua- 
 sions, and prevailed with his associate to 
 wait the result of the young lady's inter- 
 ference. 
 
 ** God bless you ! you're as good na- 
 tiired as you're pretty;" cried some of 
 the bye-standers, as they made way for 
 Emily along the pavement. She rather 
 flew than ran ; her mind wholly en- 
 grossed with what she conceived to be 
 a case of (alas, that it were 1) unparal- 
 
164 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 leled hardship. She neither heeded the 
 r — 1 carriage at the door, nor the serv- 
 ants in the hall, nor yet the information 
 Bonaire was endeavouring to impress upon 
 her, of the visitor that was with Mrs. Va- 
 lacort : but hurrying eagerly on, rushing 
 past Bonaire across the backstairs which 
 communicated with the boudoir, she ex- 
 claimed, as she opened the door, " O, 
 my dear aunt ! your poor poulterer, Gib- 
 son !"— 
 
 Mrs. Valacort, quite shocked at this 
 total disregard of etiquette, interrupted 
 her with an air of some displeasure. " Is 
 it possible, Emily, you did not know who 
 was here?" and immediately begged 
 leave to present her, making an apology, 
 at the same time, for her total ignorance 
 of the rules " of high breeding.'* 
 
 The D . was literally kept silent by 
 
 his surprise. It was not, indeed, well 
 possible to imagine a more striking ob- 
 ject than she, at that moment, exhibited ; 
 her beauty heightened in the extreme by 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 165 
 
 the glow of exerciser her fine eyes spark- 
 ling with strong un affected interest for 
 the objects of her solicitude ; the artless 
 simplicity of her manner, and the exces- 
 sive and almost overpowering confusion 
 that followed upon her being made sen- 
 sible of her indecorum, was altogether so 
 perfectly new to him, that he actually 
 stood for a minute at a loss how to ad- 
 dress her. « 
 
 Without waiting for it, however, she 
 recurred to her object. " May I not 
 speak to you for one instant in the next 
 room ? indeed the case admits of no de- 
 lay" — she whispered, as Mrs. Valacort 
 drawing back, kept repeating, " Impos- 
 sible, Emily ! impossible !" 
 
 " It seems to be an act of compassion 
 that Miss Villars has so much at heart," 
 said the D j " and if it cannot be im- 
 parted in my presence, I must revert to 
 my Italian breeding, and with a 'levo Vin- 
 commodoy however unwillingly, make 
 my exit." 
 
166 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 Emily, recovering some composure 
 from the affability of this speech, replied, 
 <* lam quite sure that the urgency of the 
 distress will plead my excuse with your 
 R — H — for relating it in your presence;'* 
 and with the utmost simplicity and feel- 
 ing, she proceeded to state what had 
 happened. 
 
 The D paid the greatest attehtion 
 
 to her little narrative. 
 
 ** Depend upon it, Emily, there's some 
 imposition in the business," said Mrs. 
 Valacort ; ** we owe no bill to that 
 amount." 
 
 " The poor woman appealed to her 
 books." 
 
 " It was but last week I gave Walker 
 money for the month's bills." 
 
 '* But the boy said she was not within, 
 and she may not yet have paid them." 
 
 " I am really quite shocked at entering 
 
 into all this before your R ; 
 
 will you forgive me if I satisfy this anx- 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 167 
 
 ious child's solicitude by ordering my 
 housekeeper into the next room ?" 
 
 " I earnestly request you would j Miss 
 Villars has deeply interested me in the 
 result ; and I am not wholly free from 
 apprehension that I may be found in 
 those books. It strikes me that I know 
 the name.'' 
 
 Bonaire brought word Mrs. Walker 
 was not within. 
 
 ** Oh ! good heavens ! the poor man 
 will be dragged to prison !" cried Emily, 
 in an agony. 
 
 " It would be no great matter to ad- 
 vance the sum," said Mrs. Valacort, " if 
 I had not unluckily emptied my card- 
 purse last night, and been prevented going 
 to my bankers yesterday." 
 
 Emily gave a sigh to the manner in 
 which the money had gone. ** And that's 
 called not playing deep," thought she, 
 " when the sum would have saved a 
 family from ruin !" 
 
IGS DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 " Besides," continued her aunt, " I 
 am not at all sure we do deal with these 
 people ; you are not up to London tricks, 
 Emily." 
 
 " James said they were your poult- 
 erers ; and don't they sign a receipt 
 when they are paid ? Might we not refer 
 to that ?" 
 
 *« Yes ; certainly," replied Mrs. Vala- 
 cort ; " but I don't know where to lay 
 my hand upon the bill ; and this really is 
 a shocking bore to his R ." 
 
 '* By no means. I have not had my 
 interest so much awakened this long 
 time ; and I feel it incumbent upon me 
 to enquire whether any irregularity in my 
 payments may have contributed to this 
 distress ; I shall feel bound to make an 
 atoning confession to Miss Villars at the 
 Duchess of Castlehaven's this evening, 
 if I find it so. You propose being there, 
 I hope," he added, as he took his leave. 
 
 " But still it may be hours before any 
 good results from this j and the poor man 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. l69 
 
 will be dragged away in the meantime. 
 What can be done ?" cried Emily, in the 
 greatest agitation. 
 
 <« I really do not know,'* replied her 
 aunt, " except ordering Walker to be sent 
 to me the moment she returns.*' 
 
 " But, in the meanwhile, if you could 
 just ascertain the date of the bills last 
 paid. My uncle may happen to come 
 in, and iiave money sufficient by him." 
 
 Emily was so very urgent, that Mrs. 
 Valacort saw there was no escaping from 
 the trouble she was so reluctant to take; 
 and when she opened her secretaire, and 
 Emily saw the state of chaos it was in, she 
 no longer wondered at the difficulty of 
 ascertaining the matter ; for Mrs. Vala- 
 cort by no means carried her visiting re- 
 gularity into her household concerns. 
 
 One of the first bills that fell into her 
 hand happened to be the poulterer's. 
 " So far lucky, however," she exclaimed, 
 *< and see the date ; — the very last 
 week !" 
 
 VOL. II. I 
 
170 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 " But I don't see it receipted !** said 
 Emily. 
 
 " No ! how is that ? They are always 
 paid and receipted before they are re- 
 turned to me. This is some strange 
 neglect. And here's the butcher's bill 
 not receipted ! What can this mean ? 
 'Tis well you called my attention to the 
 circumstance, Emily. It requires an 
 explanation at any rate." 
 
 They were here most agreeably inter- 
 rupted by Henry Villars. ** Well, dear 
 Emily, the poor people are rescued from 
 their distress," he exclaimed ; ** and it 
 really was quite a malicious arrest." 
 
 *« But how? — How?" — cried she, 
 eagerly. 
 
 ** The D of stopped at 
 
 the door, and sent in, to inquire of the 
 woman whether he were owing any 
 thing there? She showed him his name 
 scratched out for a considerable bill the 
 very last week. Then, said he graciously, 
 I know nothing better to be done at pre- 
 sent than to give you an order upon my 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 1? , 
 
 steward for fifty pounds in advance on the 
 next bill, as that is the sum I hear you 
 have to pay. It would have done your 
 heart good, Emily, to sec the silent tear 
 of gratitude that trickled down the poor 
 woman's cheek, for she could not speak ; 
 — and the acclamations and shouts of the 
 crowd. O that the great were aware 
 how condescending benevolence becomes 
 them !" 
 
 " Well, then, I must forgive all the 
 indecorums Emiiy has been guilty of this 
 morning/' said Mrs. Valacort, ** since 
 they have produced so good a result ; 
 and now do let this troublesome business 
 rest, child [ I am weary of the sight of 
 these bills," huddling them all together, 
 and stuffing them back into the secre- 
 taire, " we shall hear Walker's solution of 
 the unreceipted ones. It would be an 
 endless job to sort them all ; and I have 
 to impart all the messages left for you 
 during your walk. Did Lord Cranmore 
 join you? He was the first that called." 
 I 2 
 
172 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 " He did, but was seized with a 
 bleeding at the nose, and obliged to leave 
 us," said Emily. 
 
 '^ Next came Sir Edward Arundel. 
 I told him where he would find you." 
 " We saw nothing of him." 
 " No ; I suppose Lady Laura Belmont 
 laid violent hands upon him. She and 
 Lord Belmont also called at an hour 
 so undue for them, I should scarce 
 have supposed them out of bed ; but it 
 was her impatience to see yon, her 
 brother said. How came you not to tell 
 me, Emily, what intimate friends you 
 and she were ?" 
 
 ** I have scarce had time to tell you 
 any thing yet, my dear aunt," Emily 
 replied. 
 
 " Sunday is a good gossipping day. 
 During an airing in the Park you shall 
 tell me every thing ; — but about Lady 
 Laura I was going to say, I was surprised 
 when she sent in her name to me j for, to 
 tell you the truth, she is no favourite of 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. IJS 
 
 mine. I have kept back from her for 
 jilting a very worthy young man j but, 
 
 as ^owr friend, I '* 
 
 " I have had no reason of late to 
 think my friendship of much value to 
 her ; so pray don't do any thing on my 
 account," said Emily, very much fearing 
 Lord Belmont might be prompting this 
 forwardness in his sister. 
 
 *< Well J she left a message for you, 
 however. She said, that she rides most 
 days, and will call for you." 
 
 " But I have no horse in town," Emily 
 answered. 
 
 " So I told her," continued Mrs. Va- 
 lacort, " but Lord Belmont said. Lady 
 Sabina was prohibited from riding at 
 present ; and her horse is a very safe one, 
 and quite at your service." 
 
 **0! I can't accept of it, indeed," 
 cried Emily, with quickness. 
 
 " You are afraid of riding in the Park, 
 I see ; but there is nothing in it, really. 
 Your uncle will attend you, once or twice, 
 I 3 
 
174^ DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 till you get broke in ; and Lord Belmont 
 volunteered his services at all times. 
 There ! do fold these notes/' tossing her 
 some she had been writing during this 
 conversation. " A-propos of Lord Bel- 
 mont, though," she continued, ** didn't 
 I once hear something of a flirtation be- 
 tween you and him ? That would have 
 been a very pretty match ! How came you 
 to let him slip ? — Lord bless me, child 1 
 how pale you are again become, now 
 the glow of exercise has subsided. Just 
 as I thought, you have taken too long a 
 walk ; and I must leave you at home to 
 recover, or I shall get no credit by you 
 at all. Do, ring the bell for my carriage, 
 Henry." 
 
 Emily availed herself of her aunt's 
 interpretation of her paleness, and ex- 
 pressed herself thankful for being left at 
 home. 
 
 *< O ! and Lord Belmont apologised 
 for his lady's not calling, being in a 
 family-way, and much indisposed ; and 
 14 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 175 
 
 hoped you would wave ceremony, and 
 all that ; and Lady Laura wants you to 
 go with her into their private box at 
 Drury-Lane to-night. Lord ! I had like 
 to have forgot half." 
 
 " But I hope, I needn't go to the play 
 without you, dear aunt." 
 
 "Needn't!" repeated Mrs. Valacort, 
 laughing, ** No j to be sure. It was 
 meant as a great favour. Private boxes 
 are in the utmost request. But it was 
 very thoughtless in me not to decline that 
 at once. You would never have been fit 
 to go with me afterwards. So write your 
 excuse ; and then do keep quiet, and 
 recover your looks. Goodbye ! Walker 
 not come in yet, Bonaire ?" 
 
 Being answered in the negative, she 
 departed. 
 
 I 4 
 
17^ DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 Lord Belmont, from the disappointment 
 of not seeing Emily at Mrs. Waller's 
 assembly the preceding evening, had 
 been doubly anxious to attend Mrs. Vala- 
 cort's breakfast-table next morning, to 
 ascertain the means of meeting in the 
 course of the various engagements of the 
 day with her, who had now recovered all 
 her power over his mind ; and he gave 
 way to the impulse without a moment's 
 consideration of those consequences from 
 which he had once so conscientiously 
 shrunk. He had now breathed a con- 
 taminated air; and it had blasted the feel- 
 ings which the re-action of Emily's virtues, 
 and not his own principles, had originally 
 excited in his breast. 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 177 
 
 He knew his sister would prove an 
 useful auxiliary ; so he had called upon 
 her to accompany him. But although he 
 routed her out so much before her usual 
 breakfast-time, they were too late to catch 
 Emily. 
 
 In justice to Laura, however, it must 
 be said, that in this pursuit of her 
 brother's, she was not a willing assistant j 
 her interest lay the other way. She was 
 anxious to keep up a conjugal harmony 
 that might defeat the Duke of Ulswater's 
 views with Lady Sabina. She had be- 
 stowed much ineffectual ingenuity on 
 devising the means of prolonging the 
 deception, to which Lord Belmont's va- 
 nity had made him such a ready dupe. He 
 had found all the so strongly painted par- 
 tiality evaporate in discontent, at the first 
 absurd whim with which he had objected 
 to comply, after having indulged fifty 
 equally unreasonable ; and heard his 
 loving consort lament having given him 
 the preference to another suitor, who 
 J 5 
 
178 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 had lately come into an inviiense pro- 
 perty, " and would, she was sure, have 
 been upon his knees in humble adoration 
 of her beauty and accomplishments, 
 from morning till night ; and have 
 thouglit nothing too much that could 
 have gratified her slightest wish : that 
 was the sort of husband she felt herself 
 entitled to expect." Laura, who had 
 been present at this agreeable discussion, 
 endeavoured to conciliate matters, by 
 aftervv^ards pointing out to him the un- 
 limited blind indulgence to which her 
 parer.ts had accustomed her ; and how 
 naturally a first attempt at contradiction 
 might provoke her to say what she was 
 far from feeling. *^ Who was there that 
 might not in a pet utter what they would 
 give the world, upon a moment's reflec- 
 tion, torecal?" she asked. 
 
 /* But where is her mind?'' he would 
 exclaim. " Good God, Laura ! when 
 I compare her insipid matter-of4act con- 
 versation with the fulness, th.^ variery, the 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 179 
 
 inexhaustible stores of Emily Villars's, I 
 am ready to destroy myself." 
 
 " Lord ! my dear brother, what un- 
 reasonable complaints ! What man of 
 fashion seeks a conversable companion in 
 his wife ? or could find time for convers- 
 ation if she were so ? If you had been 
 to pass your life in the country indeed, 
 it would have been another thing ; but 
 here — you have the most beautiful and 
 most accomplished wife in England, 
 whom the whole fashionable world looks 
 up to, — whose alliance is an honour to 
 us all ; and because she is not a conceited 
 blue stocking, you are dissatisfied. When 
 you want conversation go to the Alfred; 
 or if you wish for the relaxation of cards, 
 to White's. There's no end of resources 
 in London, without being dependent on a 
 wife for them. And keep this in mind, 
 Charles, if you neglect Lady Sabina, there 
 will be plenty come forward to make her 
 amends." 
 
 I 6 
 
 X 
 
180 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 This last consideration had kept Lord 
 Behnont's discontent within bounds, till 
 the sight of Emily at Belmont Park had 
 made him careless of consequences, by 
 rekindling a flame that had only lain dor- 
 mant. But, ah ! how wide now^ of its 
 original purity ! 
 
 On the other hand, when Lady Sabina 
 complained of her husband's coldness 
 and neglect, Laura reverted to the esta- 
 blished customs of the world, and that 
 quintessence of decorum. Lady Saltland, 
 who would never bear to have her son lay 
 himself open to ridicule by public atten- 
 tions to his wife. 
 
 *' I'm sure I was a great fool, then, to 
 marry, with the whole world at my feet, 
 if neglect was to be the necessary conse- 
 quence." 
 
 ** But, my dear Sabina, haven't you 
 the whole world at your feet still ?" 
 
 " Yes ; but then you know, the least 
 little preference I were to show to any 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 181 
 
 body would immediately draw all the old 
 cats upon my back." 
 
 ** Preference ! Certainly, — your true 
 glory is in the number of your slaves. 
 You must not allow yourself to show a 
 preferencey assuredly 5 and if I might ad- 
 vise, you should be particularly upon 
 your guard against the Duke of Uls water. 
 He is said to be extremely insidious, and 
 might alarm Charles." 
 
 " I should have no objection to create 
 such an alarm, if it would make him be- 
 have better.*' 
 
 *' That's a hazardous game to play, 
 though ; and the world is not apt to be 
 indulgent to it.*' 
 
 Laura knew better than what she here 
 advanced. The world is but too apt to 
 be indulgent till the husband chooses to 
 take the alarm ; but this was before the 
 Easter visit to the Park, and she had 
 great hopes of securing the Duke to her- 
 self, if she could induce Lady Sabina to 
 repulse him. When she afterwards, 
 
182 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 however, played Henry Villars off upon 
 him in vain, she began to fear the busi- 
 ness was desperate ; though, still un- 
 willing to relinquish all hope, she con- 
 tinued to keep her invention upon the 
 rack to conciliate matters between the 
 right honourable pair. 
 
 In agreeing to Lord Belmont's pro- 
 posal of visiting Emily, there was, how- 
 ever, the purpose of obtaining admission 
 to those select parties, so long the objects 
 of her ambition, to be answered ; and, 
 therefore, Laura assented v/ithout hesi- 
 tation ; and forced her way, by sending 
 up lier name, and a message for Emily re- 
 specting the play, which in common civi- 
 lity compelled Mrs. Valacort to admit her. 
 
 Finding Sir Edward Arundel there, 
 slie 1-ad seized upon him to walk with 
 her and her brother down to the Horse 
 Guards, *' where lie v^as going to at -nd 
 his office," she said, "and she should want 
 an escort back, as she did not hV-^ walk- 
 ingthrough the Park with aservant only." 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 18S 
 
 Sir Edward having assured himself where 
 he might see Emily in the evening, and 
 enjoy the luxury of hearing the name of 
 Sophia pronounced, professed his readi- 
 ness to attend Lady Laura. 
 
 It was between 'three and four when 
 she returned to Seymour-place ; where 
 she found Lady Sabina, who now break- 
 fasted in bed, JList up, and not in one of 
 those sweetly placid moods so becoming 
 to her beautiful features, when siie pro- 
 duced them to an admiring world. Her 
 Ladyship w^as far from being pleased to 
 
 find herself 
 
 As women" (do not) *' wish to be, who love" (their 
 beauty better than) " their lord." 
 
 and unluckily, her looks were more ,han 
 commonly affected by her situation. The 
 mom.ent Laura appeared she began, — 
 
 '* Yv^hat in :he world could possess Bel- 
 mont to offer my services as chaperon to 
 that Miss Villars?'' 
 
 Laura was well aware what pos- 
 
•184 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 sessed him ; but she prudently replied, 
 ** O ! it was merely an offer of courtesy ! 
 a civility due to an old country neigh- 
 bour; he knew Mrs. Valacort had de- 
 clared she would not let her stir without 
 her, and that you were quite safe from 
 being called upon." 
 
 «* I've no objection to an unmeaning 
 piece of civility, if that's all ; but I really 
 do not yet think myself degraded into the 
 office of chaperon ; tho' Heaven knows 
 what I may come to ! did you ever see 
 such a figure as I look ? so wan and pale 
 — Heigho ! it was in an evil hour, I'm 
 sure, that I agreed to marry! — happy 
 Laura ! with your blooming looks ! — 
 You have been walking ; have you seen 
 any thing of the Duke ? ' 
 
 He was going into Hyde-Park, as I 
 crossed Piccadilly, and asked, whether 
 we were likely to take an airing this 
 morning ? 
 
 ** I should hate to have him see me in 
 broad day-light this figure j in an evening 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 185 
 
 I am better, and rouge gives a Httle life 
 to my eyes." 
 
 ** Yes J I said you were not likely to 
 be out this morning — Belmont had told 
 me you were worse than usual." 
 
 ** I wish you hadn't said that ; for if 
 he thinks Pm too ill to admit him, he'll 
 not call after his ride ; and with a veil, 
 and my large bonnet, my looks won't so 
 easily be observed ; 1 think the air may 
 do me good." And she rung and order- 
 ed the barouche. — '' If you are tired, 
 Laura, or have any thing else to do, I 
 shan't miind going alone." 
 
 " I shall certainly attend you, Sabina, 
 because, as I have often told you, the 
 duke, of all people, is the one I am most 
 unwilling to have you talked of with." 
 
 " Yes, I believe you," with a sneer, 
 that did not escape Laura ; " but I shall 
 pick up half a dozen besides him, I dare 
 say, and I shall stop in Arlington-street 
 at my return ; I have not seen my mother 
 these three days." 
 
186 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 She hoped this might deter Laura from 
 accompanying her, as the Marchioness 
 jiad of late been somewhat repulsive in 
 her manner, to this assiduous sister-in- 
 law, which occasioned her rather to 
 shrink from her cold looks ; but she qui- 
 etly answered, ** Then I may set you 
 down there, and take the carriage on to 
 St. James's Place, where I want to call ; 
 my mother has taken ours into the city 
 shopping, and I have no other convey- 
 ance." 
 
 Lady Sabina could not help herself, 
 and reluctantly gave way. 
 
 The Duke soon perceived, and rode up 
 to the carriage, and prevailed with the 
 ladies to proceed to the gardens, where 
 they were joined by a couple of his 
 Grace's associates, who kindly took 
 charge of engaging Lady Laura in 
 conversation ; and one of them being 
 an unmarried peer, the . ters returned 
 in better humour than the , had set out 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 187 
 
 When Mrs. Valacort alighted at home, 
 she again inquired for Walker. 
 
 ** Not come in, and, I much fear, will 
 not soon,'* said Bonaire, who was an at- 
 tached Swiss servant Mr. Valacort had 
 brought from abroad. 
 
 ** What do you mean?'* 
 
 ** Did Madame give order for one 
 trunk be sent to de villa at Richmond ?" 
 
 " No ; what should I order a trunk 
 there for just now ?" 
 
 *« Ah, well ! dat I was afear ; it will be 
 her own trunk.'* 
 
 *' What should she be gone there for ?" 
 
 ** I am afear she be not gone dere, but 
 make pretext ; I am afear Madame will 
 find she not pay de bills right." 
 
 Mrs. Valacort now became somewhat 
 alarmed, as upon inquiry, it appeared, 
 that the housekeeper had sent off this 
 trunk very soon after hearing of the mes- 
 sage from the poulterer, and had followed 
 it almost imi mediately ; still Mrs. Vala- 
 cort flattered herself the damage would 
 not prove considerable. 
 
188 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 Emily earnestly begged her aunt to 
 entrust her to look over the bills that had 
 been huddled back into the secretaire, 
 and engaged to sort them so as to ascer- 
 tain those that were not receipted, and 
 form some judgment of the injury sus- 
 tained, before her uncle came in to dress 
 for dinner. This was readily complied 
 with, and it soon appeared that there was 
 no receipt to any one of them ; and as 
 they began with the arrival of the family 
 in town, the loss must be considerably 
 above a thousand pounds. This was cer- 
 tainly not ruinous, but it was very seri- 
 ously vexatious ; particularly as Mr. Va. 
 lacort was in this point so unfashionable, 
 as to feel an anxiety to adapt his expenses 
 to his means, and was an exact pay- 
 master. 
 
 Mrs. Valacort was all amazement. 
 *' Who could have suspected such a 
 thing, when the bills were always so re- 
 gularly brought back !" she exclaimed. 
 
 ** Did you never look at the bills ?** 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 189 
 
 her husband asked, with an air of sur- 
 prise, when she made this observation to 
 him. 
 
 " Why, you know, Lionel, I am kept 
 in such an eternal hurry with one thing 
 or other, that I actually never can com- 
 mand a moment — " 
 
 '* My dear Caroline," he interrupted, 
 somewhat gravely, ** if you would trans- 
 fer to your domestic concerns a small 
 portion of the regularity with which you 
 manage your visiting list, it would really 
 answer a very good purpose." 
 
 " I protest, my dear Lionel, I am as 
 vexed as you can be, but the possibility 
 of such a thing never entered my 
 thoughts 5 however, I am determined, for 
 the future, to allot every fourth Sunday- 
 morning to examining the bills returned 
 to me, before advancing money for the 
 next month." 
 
 Emily could scarce help starting at the 
 choice of Sunday morning for such a pur- 
 pose, and expected her uncle to make 
 
190 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 some observation upon it ; but he only 
 said " Well ! experience must be bought 
 — I hope we know the worst of it ;^' 
 and having given immediate orders to 
 Bonaire to go round among the trades- 
 ])eople, and order in all their bills, he 
 retired to dress, with a calmness that left 
 Emily in doubt, whether his indulgent 
 affection for his wife, or his philosophy, 
 were most to be admired. 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. • 191 
 
 CHAP. XL 
 
 1 HE important evening now came that 
 was to usher Emily into this great world, 
 of which she began to feel considerable 
 dread, from the consciousness of her per- 
 fect ignorance respecting it. *« Do we 
 go to more than one place to-night?" 
 she timidly inquired. 
 
 *' You have no chance of getting oft* 
 with one place while you stay with me," 
 was the answer ; " but I mean to do no 
 more than I can possibly help to-night, 
 for your sake, to inure you by degrees to 
 the toils of ton." 
 
 ^* I am quite sure the toils of my gar- 
 den are less fatiguing j but where are we 
 going then ?" 
 
 " Why, only to Azeoli's concert, in the 
 
192 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 first place, and then to tlie Marchioness 
 of Amersham's small party, where I shall 
 just stop to play one rubber, that I may 
 not be quite set down as a deserter ; and 
 then to the Duchess of Castlehaven's as- 
 sembly, where you will see all the world." 
 
 The idea of beginning with a concert 
 somewhat comforted Emily for the fur- 
 ther proceedings, as there, nothing need 
 be done but sit down quietly and listen ; 
 and she was sure of being delighted by 
 the performers she had heard named. 
 
 She was alarmed to hear the carriage 
 ordered to the Countess of Hindfbrd*s. 
 " I thought we were going to Azeoli's 
 concert?" she said. 
 
 " So we are ; it is held at the Countess 
 of Hindford's to-night." 
 
 " O, I misunderstood you ; I imagined 
 it had been a subscription concert." 
 
 " So it is ; but people are willing to 
 lend their house for it, because it's very 
 convenient to give your acquaintance a 
 musical treat, at the easy rate of lights 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 19'3 
 
 aiad refreshments ; a concert was an ex- 
 pensive undertaking, when the perform- 
 ers were all to be paid." 
 
 " But I suppose those who could not 
 afford that expense were not bound to 
 give concerts," 
 
 ** O yes ! concerts are quite the rage I 
 every body gives them in some way or 
 other/' 
 
 ^* But how do those who adopt this 
 convenient mode know that they shall 
 like to visit all the subscribers ?*' 
 
 " Lord bless me, child ! how can you 
 think of such a thing ? Who cares about 
 the subscribers 1 thcT/ indeed usually 
 come oflt but second bestj for the lady of 
 the house, of course, invites all her own 
 musical acquaintance," 
 
 " But that is hard upon those who pay 
 their monev." 
 
 ** Not at all ; their object is answered 
 by getting the entree to houses, of which 
 they would not otherwise see the inside - 
 and having it to say, * When I was at 
 
 VOL, II, K 
 
19^ DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 the Duchess of this, or Lady t'other's, s(> 
 and so.' — O ! it's all vastly well under- 
 stood on both sides." 
 
 Emily did not care to utter what oc- 
 curred to her upon the subject, but could 
 not help thinking it was an odd sort of 
 world she was getting into. 
 
 Upon their entrance at Lady Hind- 
 fort's, they found the first act just over, 
 and every creature in motion, to make 
 their way into the room where the refresh- 
 ments were set out. 
 
 Several, in squeezing past Mrs.Valacort 
 and her niece, nudged eacli other, with 
 a half whisper of ** Thafs her F' Emily 
 looked round once or twice to see who 
 the lier was, but discovered nothing par- 
 ticular in those upon whom her eye fell, 
 and thought no farther of it. 
 
 After being most uncomfortably shoved 
 about, they finally reached the upper end 
 of the room, and took their seats near 
 \\\t orchestra, " for the facility of getting 
 away through the boudoir without mak- 
 
UOMESTIC SCENES. 195 
 
 ing a disturbance,*' Mrs. Valacort said ; 
 and soon after, the music was resumed. 
 Sit still, the company now for the most 
 part did, that is, such a proportion of it 
 as could find seats in the music-room j 
 but as to listening, it seemed to be the 
 last object of the audience, whose recita- 
 tive at times so completely overpowered 
 the instruments, that Emily was out of 
 all manner of patience. ' 
 
 At length, however, a favourite song, 
 by a favourite singer, produced silence ; 
 and just then Mrs. Valacort whispered 
 her niece, ** You'll wish to hear this, and 
 I see somebody in the other room T want 
 to speak to ; so I shall steal out by this 
 boudoir door and go round; and after the 
 song we must proceed to our small party, 
 you may therefore follow me by the same 
 way, and you'll find me near the outward 
 door ; meanwhile, I have desired Mrs. 
 Stan more to take my seat, that you may 
 not remain isol^e." And off she glided 
 through the door that was close to them* 
 K 2 
 
196 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 ** To be sure my aunt's coming to mu- 
 sic is an odd fancy !" thought Emily : 
 "it can only be to oblige me, and in this 
 way, it is so very tantalising ! and to 
 leave me with an utter stranger too !" 
 She sat in dread of every pause in the 
 song being the last, not merely from her 
 admiration qf it, which was really great, 
 but from the bewildering sensation of not 
 knowing what to say to her chaperon, nor 
 how to find courage to rise and follow her 
 aunt, through unknown ways, and strange 
 servants. 
 
 Sir Edward Arundel, however, at this 
 moment, to her inexpressible relief, caught 
 her eye, and came to her rescue, engaging 
 to pilot her safely to Mrs. Valacort. As 
 she rose to go, she courtesied an acknow- 
 iedgment of the stranger's protection, 
 who contented herself with a slight nod 
 of the head in return, and there ended 
 that distress/ '••'^ 
 
 Sir Edward saw them safely into their 
 carriage, and Mrs. Valacort offered hi*ji 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 197 
 
 a place in it, if he were going to Lady 
 Amersham's. 
 
 " I am ear-bound here," he replied ; 
 •• and it would require harmony such as 
 I have heard at the Priory, to tempt me 
 away before it is over ; but 1 shall see 
 you at the Duchess of Castlehaven's." 
 
 ** What a Goth, to prefer nightingales 
 to Catalani 1" cried Mrs. Valacort. 
 
 ^* He must be a bold man that would 
 venture to acknowledge as much," said 
 Emily, well aware of his allusion, but not 
 wishing just then to enter into the expla- 
 nation. 
 
 - At Lady Amersham's they were going. 
 up to her quadrille-table, when a wave of 
 the hand accompanying her nod of re- 
 cognition, showed the moment to be un- 
 favourable for an introduction. Mr§. 
 Valacort therefore, moving on to the 
 Marquis's whist-table, said, ** I see the 
 agony of a Vole in Lady Araersham's 
 countenance, so we must not approach 
 Jn^Y now — Miss Villars, my lord.]' V ,^^ 
 K 9 '^^^^^ " 
 
198 DOMESTIC SCENES^ 
 
 ** How opportunely you are come/' 
 he replied to Mrs. Valacort as he smil- 
 ingly bowed to Emily; «* we were just 
 in danger of breaking up : we thought 
 you had deserted us." 
 
 " You forget that I told you I 
 should have chaperon duties to fulfil, 
 and those don't square with the card- 
 tab! e," she answered. 
 ; .** You have a very fair excuse to plead, 
 tve must all allow," he returned, with a 
 look of admiration at Emily, that made 
 lier colour up to her eyes. 
 
 A friendly sign from Lady Amersham, 
 now showed her awful crisis past, and 
 Emily being in consequence led up to her, 
 met with the most flattering reception. 
 . <* Now take a chair by me," said her 
 aunt, cutting in at whist. 
 
 She did as she was desired, and sat quiet- 
 ly looking over the card-table, congra- 
 tulating herself that there was nothing to 
 be said or done there that could betray 
 i gnorance. 
 
 After some time, a middle aged, plea- 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES, 199 
 
 sant looking man, who. had scarcely takeri 
 his eyes off' her since her entrance,, ap- 
 proached the table and said, ** Mrs. Vala- 
 cort, you must be so good as to present 
 me to that pretty niece of yours ; she 
 hangs out her grandmother's lure, and, 
 to one of the last century like me, that is 
 quite irresistible.*' 
 
 As Mrs. Valacort was about to answer, 
 her partner bluntly interrupted her with 
 «* ril thank you. Maxwell, not to distract 
 my partner's attention just now ; — we are 
 playing short — • four all — a very critical 
 moment 1" 
 ':. ^* I can talk and play," said she. 
 
 " That you do talk and play is pretty 
 evident," he replied, somewhat gruffly ; 
 f^ whether you can is another matter." 
 
 Emily, whose blushes had been again 
 called up by the quaint address of Colonel 
 Maxwell, now blushed a deeper dye, at 
 what appeared to her, unprecedented rude- 
 ness to her aunt ; who, being in fact how- 
 ever a careless player, and accustomed to 
 K 4 
 
•^86 
 
 DOMESTIC SCENES- 
 
 much sharper rebuffs, took it very good 
 hamouredlj, and with a nod to the 
 Colonel, only said, " I shall cut out after 
 this rubber, and then be at your service.*' 
 
 *'* Now, pray tell me,'* said she, as she 
 rose from the table, " before I introduce 
 such an odd mortal as you to Miss Vil- 
 lars, what you mean by her grandmo- 
 ther's lure." 
 
 *^ Why, a blush is a thing so entirely 
 out of date in the present generation,'* he 
 replied, ** that one must be nearly co- 
 eval with her grandmother to read it 
 aright ; and if I do so, I have hopes of 
 making discoveries as obsolete in her 
 mind, as in her countenance." ''^^" '^*'^" 
 
 ** You will be an admirable assistant to 
 ?ier reading things aright," returned 
 Mrs. Valacort, *' if you are going to the 
 Duchess of Castlehaven's to-night." 
 
 ** If I had not intended it, I certainly 
 should now," he replied: "shall I call 
 your carriage ?" 
 
 «* I think we shall be too iparly," said 
 Mrs. Valacort. 
 
POJM]^$TIC SCENES. SOI 
 
 l^*VMy dear aunt ! every clock in these 
 apartments has struck twelve." 
 
 .** Aye, . there again now!" cried the 
 Colonel; " your grandmother would have 
 deemed this a very unmannerly mode of 
 marking the lapse of time, when the bu- 
 siness of ancient hospitality was to make 
 people forget it." 
 
 . ** But in my grandmother's time," said 
 Emily, ," it was not, I believe, so par- 
 celled out, and put to such numberless 
 uses, as it seems to be here, where the 
 clocks may rather be meant as a consi- 
 derate attention to the duties of the com- 
 pany, which regularity alone can carry 
 them through." 
 
 .'< That's a fling at me, saucy girl!" 
 ^aid Mrs. Valacort, with a smile; "but 
 cpmCj let us take the hint then, and prp- 
 ceed. I rather expected Lionel to have 
 joined us here, but 1 find the house is not 
 yet up, so you ^hall squire us if you 
 please." 
 : i Getting up to the Duchess of Castle* 
 
SG€ BCMESTIC SCEIiES* 
 
 haven's door at la belle heure was a mat- 
 ter of such difficulty, as terrified poor 
 Emily almost out of her senses ; and the 
 being kept for more than half an hour, 
 amidst the cutting, lashing, swearing 
 horrors, to which every fine lady is satis- 
 lied to devote a considerable portion of 
 every evening, appeared to her so very 
 formidable, that, had not Mrs. Valacort 
 judiciously secured the protection of the 
 Colonel, she might possibly have been 
 obliged to take her niece fainting home, 
 instead of exhibiting her to an admiring 
 world, as she expected to do. 
 
 Colonel Maxwell, partly by persuasion, 
 partly by pleasantry, and partly by inter- 
 fering to keep Mrs. Valacort*s own ser- 
 vants quiet, succeeded in dispelling 
 Emily's dismay ; and she soon recovered 
 iter composure, upon finding herself safe 
 within the doors. 
 
 Now again the unaccountable " That's 
 her!'^ met her ear, and the quick motion 
 with which she again turned round to 
 4 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 208 
 
 try, if possible, to discover its object, was 
 not lost upon Colonel Maxwell : " Show 
 me such another instance of simple un- 
 affected modesty !" said he to her aunt. 
 
 Little, indeed, could the unconscious 
 girl imagine herself to be the object of 
 this general curiosity ; little was she 
 aware how, for the two past days, herr 
 name had resounded through all the fa- 
 shionable boudoirs, and been bandied 
 about at the dinner-parties ; for she bad 
 flattered herself with enjoying a happy 
 obscurity in the midst of numbers ; nor 
 could she imagine that gossipping, the 
 appropriate avocation of country towns 
 and villages, was a vice of high life j and 
 yet is it the truth, that the different sets 
 of the fashionable world are, individually, 
 as rapidly apprised, as minutely cri- 
 tical of each other's actions and motives, 
 and as fertile in exaggeration, as the most 
 assiduous frequenters of the chandler's 
 shop in Squire Alworthy's parish could 
 possibly have been, 
 
 k6 
 
^4 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 > « The discomfiture of Miss Villars at the 
 drawing-room — her wo-presentatJon — 
 her flaming feathers, extinguished by 
 Lord Cranmore's opera-hat — her zeal 
 for the poulterer ; and above all, her in- 
 conceivable ignorance of royal etiquette, 
 bespeaking rusticity unequalled ; which, 
 however, had not been so represented by 
 
 the D- , who had upon that occasion 
 
 been more charmed with ** the breach,*' 
 'than he could have been with ** the ob- 
 servance" of it. All these novel occur- 
 
 ' rences were repeated in fifty different 
 ways, together with as various descrip- 
 
 '^ lions of her person. She was a Juno — 
 a Hebe — a Niobe — a Venus — a Mi- 
 
 ' -nerva ; — any thing, in short, but what she 
 was finally set down for, by Lady Diana 
 Dashmont ;— " a blushing, sheepish-look- 
 ing, unfashioned, pretty-enough, country 
 girl ; that was all, upon her honour, she 
 couljl see in her; and wondered Mrs. Va- 
 
 '' lacbrt did not keep her up for a week, 
 ' and give her the advantage of some of the 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 205 
 
 various improvers of manners to re- 
 dresser her gaucherieSy that she might 
 come out with some eclat,** 
 
 This decree had been promulgated at 
 the concert, and just made its way to the 
 Duchess of Castlehaven's before Emily 
 appeared. It must be confessed, indeed, 
 that expectation had been raised to the 
 sovra umano, and a sensation of disap- 
 pointment therefore prevailed, more or 
 less, according to the disposition of the 
 discusser, but certainly very generally ; 
 for over-commendations will * damn/, as 
 surely, if not more so, than " faint praise.'* 
 — - . Even the Duke, when be afterwards 
 joined them, was compelled to lower the 
 estimate he had made in the morning, of 
 the wonderful charms, which he had not 
 a little contributed to blazon forth .;,; In- 
 deed, the extraordinary animation that 
 overspread her glowing features, when 
 she had rushed into his presenq^, com- 
 bined with the incomparable sweetness 
 ;that was their habitual expression^ had 
 
f206 DOMESTIC SCENES* 
 
 given a character to her beauty that did 
 not naturally belong to it, for she was not 
 formed to dazzle. The radiance having 
 subsided, seemed now to sink her as 
 much below the admiration to which she 
 was really entitled, as she had been raised 
 above it ; she could not converse for 
 five minutes, however, without winning 
 her way into feelings of far higher inte- 
 rest, than what could be inspired by fea- 
 tures only. 
 
 Emily, abashed and confounded, when 
 she could no longer mistake the eyes, 
 lorgnettes, and whispers, that now marked 
 her for their object, entreated her aunt 
 to let her get to some seat in a corner, 
 where- she might escape observation ; 
 this, with the assistance of Colonel Max- 
 well, was accomplished ; and very soon 
 after, Lord Cranmore and Sir Edward 
 Arundel made their way to the snug re- 
 treat, where Mrs. Valacort would never 
 have been satisfied to let her niece remain 
 in quiet, had she not overheard some ill- 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. ^20/ 
 
 natured sarcasms passed upon the beauty 
 she had so much prided herself in having 
 to exhibit. Surprised and provoked, a 
 cloud of displeasure had gathered on her 
 brow, as she sat revolving, how it could 
 happen ! not at all aware of all that she 
 herself had done towards it, by injudici- 
 ously extolling Emily's charms, where- 
 ever she had gone for the last two days ; 
 for, in fact, both Mr. and Mrs. Valacort 
 had been so surprised and captivated 
 with an exterior of such uncommon 
 loveliness, that they could scarce talk of 
 any thing else. 
 
 Emily's renewed pleasure on the ap- 
 proach of Sir Edward Arundel was as 
 naturally expressed, as it was truly felt j 
 and construing this friendship, on her 
 part, into an earnest of her sister's feel- 
 ings towards him, his gratification was 
 unbounded ; and so great was his soiici* 
 tude for Agatha, and so minute his en- 
 quiries into her progress, as necessarily 
 brought Mrs. Delmere's name into play. 
 
SOS DOMESTIC SCENES, 
 
 and the expression it called up in Iiis 
 countenance was such as to lead Mrsi 
 Valacort, who did not overhear their 
 conversation, into the belief that Emily 
 bad captivated him. Lord Cranmore's 
 attentions were also sufficiently obvious ; 
 and these two agreeable circumstances 
 soon restored her brow to its wonted 
 good-humoured expression. 
 
 In speaking of the Priory, Sir Edward 
 adverted to Mr. Villars's gout, and the. 
 probable influence of the severe weather 
 
 upon it. ay\»:;K cn^o.) ^' 
 
 ** He is peculiarly susceptible of cold,*' 
 said Emily, ** and while we were in De- 
 vonshire, he told us his thermometer had 
 been as low as twenty." 
 
 ** My goodness ! did you hear that ?'* 
 whispered Miss A. to Miss B., who had 
 just then come up arm in arm, for a stare 
 at the ♦ Lion of the niglit :' '' She talks 
 about thermometers ! she's a blue 
 stockingj as sure as you're alive." 
 
 Sir Edward, who was acquainted with 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. S09 
 
 her, overhearing the observation, said, 
 " And an elegante is bound not to know 
 a thermometer from a barometer, is 
 she?'* 
 
 •* O, I beg your pardon ; knowing is 
 one thing, but talking of what one knows 
 is another, and always affected.'* ^aust^iv 
 
 •* One advantage might result from it 
 though," said Colonel Maxwell, " the, 
 conversation would often be short as 
 sweet.'* 
 
 Miss A. gave a toss with her head. 
 
 " Come," resumed Sir Edward, ** Til 
 lay you the Frentih bet une discretion, 
 that you don't know the one from the 
 other." 
 
 «* Propose une indiscretion, and she'll 
 like it better," said Colonel Maxwell. 
 
 " O you satirical wretch ! who ever 
 minds you ?" cried Miss A. 
 -^ ** Well ! leave him to his wickedness, 
 and let's hear what a barometer is !'* con- 
 tinued Sir Edward, bent upon avenging 
 Emily's cause. 
 
210 DOMESTIC SCENES, 
 
 ^* Why, Lord bless me ! it's a long 
 piece of wood with a glass pipe — and 
 numbers — and a round ball at the bot- 
 tom." 
 
 ** A happy description ! and that ball 
 contains — '' 
 
 " Some sort of liquid that goes up and 
 down the pipe/' 
 
 Sir Edward smiled. "Well; and the 
 use?'' 
 
 ** Dear ! why to tell good and bad 
 weather, and heat and cold." 
 
 " So much for meteorological skill ! 
 now for a thermometer 1" 
 
 " O, why, a little glass thing as long as 
 my finger, in an ivory tooth-pick case> 
 to ascertain when to put coals on the 
 fire." 
 
 This set all the listeners into a roar of 
 laughter, who had not happened to meet 
 with the Birmingham toy of that descrip- 
 tion : which, however, so far justified the 
 young lady's knowledge, as that there 
 actually was one of them lying on the 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. Qil 
 
 ckiffo?iiere, in the Duchess's boudoir, 
 which had been referred to, when, upon 
 the sudden chill of a lost rubber, she had 
 ordered the fire to be mended. 
 
 Miss A. insisted upon leading Sir Ed- 
 ward to conviction, but tlieir progress 
 
 was impeded by the Duke of , 
 
 who was coming forward to Mrs. Vala- 
 cort ; when, to Emily's distress, she found 
 herself obliged to become again conspi- 
 cuous, by rising with her aunt, and form- 
 ing a part of the circle that always marks 
 the presence of royalty. 
 
 Being very particularly addressed by 
 him on the subject of the morning's bu- 
 siness, she felt called upon to rally her 
 spirits and powers of conversation ; and 
 having been really much delighted with 
 the manner in which his benevolence had 
 shown itself, she, without the least inten- 
 tion of flattery, paid him two or three 
 compliments with a grace of simplicity so 
 new, as quite charmed him. He ob- 
 served her cast a look of distress around 
 
gl2 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 at the observation his notice was again 
 drawing upon her, and condescendingly 
 motioned to take a seat that was become 
 vacant next to where she had been sit- 
 ting ; the consequence was the dispersion 
 of the surrounding crowd, and the relief 
 of Emily's embarrassment. 
 
 *' Do but conceive," said the un- 
 daunted Miss A., " do but conceive Miss 
 Villars calling Mrs. Valacort her aunt in 
 speaking of her to the Duke ! where can 
 she have been educated ?" 
 
 " In a seminary that's quite out of 
 date," replied Colonel Maxwell : ** it is 
 called the school of domestic affection." 
 
 ** I declare you are almost as bad as a 
 Methodist preacher," retorted the young 
 lady ; and she confined the remainder of 
 her observations upon Emily to the ear of 
 her friend, where they met with a more 
 congenial reception ; the whole being 
 summed up by Miss B.'s remark in return, 
 << That she must be a very experienced 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 213 
 
 coquette, to draw all these men about her 
 so." 
 
 The Duke now rose to go, but sud- 
 denly looking back to Emily, said, " Shall 
 
 you be at Lady 's card-party on 
 
 Sunday ?' 
 
 " O no, certainly not !*' she exclaim- 
 ed with quickness, in a tone almost of 
 horror ; but immediately/ecollecting the 
 implied censure she was passing on her 
 aunt, who might be in the habit of going 
 there, she added more quietly, *< I know 
 nothing about cards." 
 
 " Is she a Methodist?" said a lady, 
 who had just come in time to hear the 
 question and answer. 
 
 " Exactly so much of one," answered 
 Sir Edward, " as I would wish Qv^ty 
 woman to be, in whom I am at all 
 interested." 
 
 •: <* Dear, what an odd fancy !" was the 
 reply, and she passed on. 
 i>The groom of the chambers now came 
 
214 DOMESTIC SCENKS. 
 
 up to Mrs. Valacoit, and said, " Her 
 Grace had sent him to ask, whether she 
 would cut in at whist." 
 
 Emily, alarmed at the idea of being 
 again left, cried, *' O what wall become 
 of me!" 
 
 Mrs. Valacort, smiling at her fright, 
 replied, " Tell the Duchess that it will 
 not be in my power to play to-night. 
 The crowd has been so great, I have not 
 been able to make my way to her, but 
 whenever I can get on, I am coming to 
 introduce Miss Villars ; and now," she 
 continued, turning to Colonel Maxwell, 
 ** 'tis no great matter whether we get to 
 her at all , she'll be delighted to hear 
 there's no stirring for the crowed, and 
 think no farther about us." 
 
 A considerable influx of men followed, 
 upon the rising of the House ; amongst 
 whom Mr. Valacort, Lord Leonard Orms- 
 by, Lord Belmont, all made up directly 
 to the aunt and niece. 
 
 Sir Marmaduke EUingford, also, now 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. ^15 
 
 made his appearance, took his stand di- 
 rectly opposite to Emily, levelled his 
 opera-glass to her face, and kept it sta- 
 tionary with unremitting perseverance 
 for ten minutes j fortunately unobserved 
 by its object, who was earnestly engaged 
 in conversation with Sir Edward Arun- 
 del. 
 
 Sir Marmaduke Ellingford was the 
 finest of the fine men of the day ; the su- 
 preme umpire of taste, from whose ver- 
 dict there was no appeal j whose cravat, 
 whiskers, paddings, were the models for 
 all that aimed at fashionable distinction. 
 
 Such of his devoted imitators as were 
 still remaining, now awaited with due 
 deference to learn, what they thought of 
 the new beauty. 
 
 The oracle at length broke forth. -^ 
 " That sort of natural bloom, arising 
 from rude health, has long been exr 
 ploded — not to be endured in any thing 
 above a milkmaid ! give me the in- 
 teresting paleness of Lady Maria ! — the 
 
SI 6 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 eyes are not ill-cut — want information 
 tho' ! Lady Hester would know how to 
 make the most of them, but this poor girl 
 thinks they have only been given her to 
 look with — cursed insipid altogether, I 
 take it — nothing stylish — no air of 
 fashion about her — Ah gad ! and blushes 
 too ! — that's quite too bad, upon my 
 soul !" 
 
 *< The features are regular, — and a 
 certain sweetness in her smile !" was the 
 observation one of the bye-standers ha- 
 zarded, who, now and then, ventured to 
 have an opinion of his own. 
 
 But he was taken up very short. — 
 " Features ! who takes any account of 
 features? expression, indeed, is some- 
 thing ! but, as to smiles and dimples, and 
 that sort of thing, I'm sick of them ! 
 unless, indeed, to display such teeth as 
 Lady Sabina's 1" 
 
 " There is a bewitching air of mo- 
 desty in her demeanour!" continued the 
 daring assertor of his own observations. 
 
DOMESTIC SCfij4T2S. SI? 
 
 ^« Modesty! — Aye — well — that may 
 pass pour la rarete dufait, if, after all, it 
 be not mere affectation ! — but who is 
 she? who brings her out?" 
 
 ** Mrs. Valacort ; she is her niece!" 
 
 ** Mrs. Valacort ! ah I cela change la 
 these! — then she may soon be made 
 something of!" 
 
 Sir Marmaduke now drew nearer, and 
 said, " Cranmore, I wish you'd intro- 
 duce me !** with a motion of the head, 
 directed to Emily. 
 
 " That's a liberty I really cannot 
 take," said Lord Cranmore. 
 
 *' How cursed formal !" then going 
 round to Mrs. Valacort — " How do ?'* 
 shaking hands. *' Your niece, I'm told ! 
 pray name me to her !" 
 
 *« Sir Marmaduke Ellingford, Miss 
 Villars !" said Mrs. Valacort. 
 
 Emily made a bow of acknowledg- 
 ment with more of graceful ease than he 
 probably expected ; so, making an effortat 
 conversation. Sir Marmaduke began : — 
 
 VOL. II. L 
 
218 DOMESTIC SCENES* 
 
 " Never in town before. Ma'am, I 
 conclude ?" 
 
 " Never, Sir." 
 
 After a short pause — " Do yo» 
 walk in Bond-street, Ma'am ?" 
 
 <* Sir V* somewhat surprised at the 
 question. 
 
 " The Lady Dangervilles never fail — 
 from five to six — and all the world, in- 
 deed ; but it's a cursed bore to think of 
 something to say, so I generally cut — 
 et tout est dit, you know." 
 
 " I should conceive it soon might 
 be," replied Emily, rather archly, for 
 she was amused with a being so different 
 from any she had yet met with. 
 
 «' Do you ride in Hessians ?" was the 
 next question, after another little pause. 
 
 She was now utterly at a loss. 
 
 But he obligingly went on: — "Hoby's 
 your only man for 'em ! and, by-the-bye, 
 as you are new to the town, let me give 
 you a piece of advice, never call for 
 Cedrati-ice at Owen's ; it is incompa- 
 rably better at Grainger's." 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. SIQ 
 
 « Thank you, Sir, for putting me upon 
 my guard !'* scarce able to refrain from 
 aughing at the air of importance that 
 accompanied the caution ; " but in all 
 matters of moment I have recourse to my 
 aunt." 
 
 " She might not be up to that tho*, 
 for it is only two days since Lady Maria 
 made the discovery by being fortunately 
 caught in a shower in Piccadilly, which 
 obliged her to take shelter in Grainger's." 
 
 *^ How providential 1" said Colonel 
 Maxwell, who had been attentively watch- 
 ing Emily's countenance during this 
 dialogue. 
 
 Here the interesting conversation was 
 stopt by Mrs. Valacort's observing that, 
 as the rooms were now thinned, it would 
 be a good time to make their courtsey to 
 the Duchess. 
 
 As they rose to go, Colonel Maxwell 
 
 continued, laughingly, to Emily ** Ah, 
 
 * what is friendship but a name !' that, of 
 
 all the admiring host which surrounds the 
 
 L 2 
 
220 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 * pink of men,' not one should have the 
 charity to hint at the depredation that 
 well-stuffed cravat is committing on that 
 well-rouged cheek !" 
 
 " You can't be serious, in thinking it 
 paint?" 
 
 *' Nay, I call the cravat to witness ; 
 look at the delicate tint tinging its edge 
 from being so unguardedly raised the 
 tenth of an inch too high." 
 
 No sooner did Mrs. Valacort and 
 Emily quit their seat, than Sir Marma- 
 duke took possession of it, exclaiming 
 with a half yawn, ** Cursed thin, to- 
 night ! what's become of all the world, I 
 wonder ? bring me some ice. Sir 1" 
 and then extending one leg upon the 
 ottomane, and drawing the cushions so 
 as to favour a gracefully recumbent 
 posture, (from whence it will evidently 
 strike the reader, that this was prior to 
 the era of tight lacing, which some- 
 what impedes an elegant lounge,) he 
 took to eating his ice in perfect style, 
 
 13 - 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 2^1 
 
 nodding approbation of it, as he proceed- 
 ed to glass after glass, accompanied with 
 the proper interjections of gout exquis ! 
 hien pommadee ! he. 
 
 There being still sufficient crowd about 
 the door-way to delay their progress, Co- 
 lonel Maxwell directed Emily's attention 
 to the proceedings of Sir Marmaduke, — 
 *« And now, do let me hear your opinion 
 of that semblance of a man !'* he said. 
 
 ** Singularly diverting 1" she replied. 
 
 " Would to Heaven he were singular !'* 
 returned the Colonel ; " but, alas 1 he is, 
 as you may perceive, but the head — 
 * if head that may be called, which head 
 hath none,' of a tribe that infest these 
 our fashionable circles ! a delectable 
 compound of egotism, apathy, and im- 
 pertinence !" 
 
 " Would not insignificance be a suffi- 
 cient characteristic ? I think you are ra- 
 ther severe !" 
 
 " I confess it moves my spleen, when 
 J see those libels on the male creation :— 
 
 L S 
 
52^ DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 things ' without a name' * courted — 
 made up to, by the fair and fashionable, 
 their impertinence tolerated; their fiat 
 sought! — O ! that women could be sen- 
 sible of the mischief they have to answer 
 for, by such encouragement !" 
 
 " Do you pay our sex the compliment 
 to think it would rest with us to coun* 
 teract— " 
 
 " Depend upon it," he interrupted, 
 ** men and women mutually spoil, or im- 
 prove each other ; if all the worthies of 
 your sex treated him as you have done, 
 the effects would soon appear." 
 
 " As / have done, Colonel Maxwell ! 
 what can you mean ?" 
 
 " I mean, that your mind is as 
 transparent as your complexion, and that 
 it will be in vain you may ever expect to 
 disguise your feelings, Miss Villars. Your 
 
 * They have since obtained one, of which the 
 fame has spread, if Lady Morgan may be credited. 
 See in her ** France" the surprise of the Parisian 
 ladies at the Dandy, 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. S23 
 
 keen sense of the ridiculous was manifest 
 through the playfulness of your answers, 
 and if others would designedly evince as 
 much, it might do good, for I could al- 
 most suspect his having been struck with 
 it, by his not following you." 
 
 « Indeed, I hope you are mistaken: 
 it would be intolerable presumption in 
 me to aim at reforming, who know so 
 little of the world I have just got into, 
 that I go wrong at every step -, but you 
 are such an observer that I must be upon 
 my guard with you, I perceive." 
 
 " No, for Heaven's sake, throw off all 
 guard ! and show yourself exactly as you 
 are, and you may do more by your ex- 
 ample, than volumes of precept could 
 accomplish." 
 
 They now made their way towards the 
 boudoir, followed by a host of men so con- 
 spicuous, and some of them in such high 
 request with the husband-hunting spin- 
 sters, that ample amends were made for 
 the mortifications of the evening, by 
 L 4 
 
9^4f DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 appearing before the Duchess with this 
 brilliant cortege. 
 
 Neither mortification nor brilliancy 
 had, however, made any impression upon 
 Emily j she conceived it to be the natu- 
 ral and distressing fate of a stra^iger to 
 Ue stared at ; and her attendant beaux, 
 she supposed, wished to pay their com- 
 pliments to the lady of the house : the 
 sensation uppermost in her thoughts was 
 that of thankfulness, for the approaching 
 end of the business of the night, as well 
 as for being so surrounded, that Lord 
 Belmont would not have an opportunity 
 of addressing any thing particular to her. 
 
 The Duchess gave a look of much ap- 
 probation, as Mrs. Valacort introduced 
 her niece, and immediately said, — 
 " Don't run away, Mrs. Valacort! I 
 have ordered up some supper for these 
 famisiied men that are just come in, and 
 1 depend upon you.'* 
 
 A petit souper was of irresistible at- 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. Q^5 
 
 traction, and, to Emily's regret, the pro- 
 posal was instantly accetled to. 
 
 It was very sliortly after announced; 
 and to her, who was unacquainted with 
 the happy device of the letting-down 
 supper-trays, it appearetl to have risen as 
 by enchantment out of the ground, when 
 she found an elegantly covered table, in 
 the very apartment she had but just 
 before passed through. 
 
 A party of about a dozen sat down ; 
 Lord Cranmore had secured his place on 
 one side of Emily, and she looked to- 
 wards Colonel Maxwell, in the hope that 
 he would take the other, when Belmont 
 slipped before him, saying, *' I beg par- 
 don, Maxwell, but I am charged with a 
 long message from my sister for Miss 
 Villars !" and seated himself between her 
 and the Colonel. 
 
 Emily, though somewhat disconcerted, 
 assumed an airof cold dignity, and said, — 
 ** Itwill be unnecessary for Your Lordship 
 L 5 
 
Q26 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 to take the trouble of repeating it, as I 
 mean to appoint a meeting with Lady 
 Laura, as early to-morrow morning as she 
 may be inclined to admit me.'' 
 
 Awed by a manner so different from 
 any thing he had ever seen in her, he re- 
 mained silent, with an air of mortified 
 submission, but retained his seat, casting 
 a resentful glance upon Lord Cranmore 
 at the same time, towards whom she had 
 directly turned. 
 
 It was rather remarkable that, however 
 embarrased Emily might at times feel, at 
 an unexpected allusion to Lord Belmont, 
 his presence never failed to restore her 
 self-possession ; possibly, the levity of his 
 manner impressed her with the instanta- 
 neous conviction, that he was no longer 
 the Charles of her imagination, which, in 
 his absence might, imperceptibly to her- 
 self, still continue to adorn him with some 
 of the ideal virtues, in which she had 
 oBce so fondly beheved. 
 
 " Apropos !'* cried one of the com- 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. ^2? 
 
 pany, as an accidental pause afforded the 
 opportunity, " Have you heard of the 
 elopement, Duchess ?*' 
 
 " No; who?" 
 
 " Mrs. Fairlawn, with Lord Dorman.'* 
 
 " What upon earth could tempt them 
 to elope ? I thought it was all an under- 
 stood thing between the husband and 
 wife, on the principal of mutual forbear*- 
 ance." 
 
 Emily laid down her knife and fork, in 
 amazement. 
 
 " Why, so it was believed, but she 
 seems bent upon marrying Dorman ; and 
 so, slight damages will be laid, and a 
 divorce sued for.'* 
 
 Emily's eyes turned upon her aunt, ex- 
 pecting to see the expression reflected in 
 them, of the feelings so marked in her 
 own ; but Mrs. Valacort took it very 
 much in the light of an e very-day occur- 
 rence, and only, said — " Mighty silly ! 
 to forfeit her place in society so cause- 
 lessly ! as Lady Dorman, she can^t be 
 L 6 
 
228 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 visited. She's an agreeable woman, had 
 a very pleasant house, and as long as her 
 husband was satisfied, nobody would have 
 drawn back." 
 
 ** Her husband did not seem inclined 
 to make any stir about the matter," 
 
 *\No ; he began first, and retaliation is 
 always fair. ' 
 
 <* What an enviable fellow is Fair- 
 lawn, to recover his freedom !" exclaim- 
 ed Lord Belmont. 
 
 ** You should have reserved that ob- 
 servation till next year, Belmont," said 
 Colonel Maxwell : '* it is too bad in 
 such early days to scoff at chains !" 
 
 " Galling chains ! God knows !" was 
 the reply. 
 
 '' Shame on you, Belmont!" conti- 
 tinued the Colonel: ** married to the 
 finest woman in England, and utter such 
 an expression ! take care some * damned, 
 good-natured friend' don't report — " 
 
 «* Ah, Maxwell, you are a happy 
 bachelor ! you cannot enter into the feel- 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 2^9 
 
 ings of a wretched dog, who has beeii 
 tricked out of an angel, to be linked to 
 an ideot I You know not how I have 
 been fooled !** 
 
 But Colonel Maxwell knew more than 
 Belmont was aware of 5 he v/as a distant 
 relation of Lady Saltland's, and though not 
 privy to all the Earl*s manoeuvres, he 
 knew that a prior attachment had caused 
 the alliance with Lady Sabina to be, for 
 a while, doubtful ; he had even tried his 
 influence to soften Lord Saltland in fa- 
 vour of his son's predeliction, and this had 
 awakened a great interest in him, for the 
 object of that predeliction. 
 
 Lord Belmont had spoken in a kind of 
 half whisper, which, though apparently 
 only addressed to his neighbour, it was 
 impossible Emily should not overhear j 
 and her indignation, at being thus made 
 to hear what was so very improper, be- 
 trayed itself in the variations of her coun- 
 tenance : she would have given the world 
 
230 DOMESTIC SCENES, 
 
 Lord Cranmore would speak to her, but 
 he was not fluent in public. 
 
 <* One only consolation there would be 
 for me on earth," continued Lord Bel- 
 mont, ** and that is the friendship of the 
 exalted woman I have lost, which might 
 eventually also have a happy influence 
 upon Lady Sabina, and reconcile me to 
 my fate, but from this I am rigorously 
 excluded." 
 
 ** For God's sake, have done with 
 conversation so ill-timed 1" interrupted 
 the Colonel : ** if you really wish 
 to confide grievances to a friend, com- 
 mand me at any time : my best advice 
 shall be yours ; — but — " 
 
 *« Advice to blow out my brains ! I 
 know no other that can be of any avail, 
 and, upon my soul, I have been more 
 than once tempted to it." 
 
 Lord Cranmore, who had watched the 
 changes in Emily's countenance, without 
 guessing their origin, now said, anxiously, 
 «« I fear you are not well, Miss Villars ! 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 231 
 
 hours so different from those of the Pri- 
 ory, do not suit your lately-recovered 
 health : will you allow me to convey a 
 message from you to Mrs. Valacort ?" 
 
 " It cannot now be long before she 
 moves to go, and I am told, I must inure 
 myself to these doings," she replied 5 
 " but talk to me of the Priory, and I shall 
 forget the lassitude, which, I must con- 
 fess, I begin to feel." 
 
 ** What observations would the adven- 
 ture of Mrs. Fairlawn have called forth 
 there do you think ?" 
 
 " The very simple one, I believe, that, 
 even setting every other consideration 
 aside, no provocation from a husband can 
 excuse a woman's forgetting what she 
 owes to herself." 
 
 " True, Ma'am, as you justly observe," 
 said a gentleman, catching her words, in 
 part, from the opposite side of the table : 
 " a shghted woman takes a lover, in con- 
 sideration of what she owes herself." 
 
 <* I fancy that was not exactly Miss 
 
252 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 Villars's observation," said Mrs. Vala- 
 cort, wishing to draw Emily out. 
 
 Emily, a good deal confounded, both 
 with having been overheard and misre- 
 presented, was still never wanting to her- 
 self in the cause of morals ; and she 
 replied, ** You would indeed have reason 
 to blush for me, Ma'am, if it were, but I 
 had no intention of obtruding my un- 
 worldly notions, when they would be so 
 misplaced." 
 
 *^ No, no ! that would be ' Caviar to 
 the multitude' indeed !" cried Colonel 
 Maxwell, laughing. Emily, who had 
 spoken from her feelings, without ex- 
 actly weighing the construction her words 
 might bear, was quite abashed at having 
 them thus mischievously pointed as a 
 sarcasm on the company. 
 
 Sir Marmaduke Ellingford having by 
 this time finished his half-dozen glasses 
 of ice, and seen the apartments nearly 
 empty, now lounged into that, occupied 
 by the supper-party, a slight inclination 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. £33 
 
 of the head marking his polite notice of 
 the lady of the house — " Exquisite Ma- 
 raschino ice, upon my soul, Duchess !" 
 he said, ** who do you employ ?" 
 
 " My chef de cuisine officiates in the 
 capacity of conjiturier as well,'* she re- 
 plied. 
 
 " Cherish him then as the apple of 
 your eye : he is i7iappreciable P^ 
 
 " Have you supped, Sir Marma- 
 duke ? — Here's room.'* 
 
 " No, 'tis not my hour yet : I'm off 
 to White's.'' 
 
 He now moved a few steps towards 
 the door ; but stopping to take a survey 
 of himself as he passed the looking-glass, 
 he recollected the news of the day: — 
 " Oh ! have you heard of the elope- 
 ment ?" he said. 
 
 Being answered in the affirmative, and 
 
 no second idea occurring to him, he 
 
 quietly lounged out as he had lounged in. 
 
 Mrs. Valacort, perceiving her niece's 
 
 tired looks, rose to go, but the Duchess 
 
254 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 exclaimed, — ** I lay an embargo oti you 
 tliree for a couple of rubbers more ; 
 Mrs. Valacort ! Lord Belmont 1 Lord 
 Leonard ! you won't desert me 1" 
 
 " I am not given to desert, you know, 
 but this child really has been ill,'* said 
 Mrs. Valacort. 
 
 *« And can't you trust to Mr. Vala- 
 cort's care of her, and let your carriage 
 come back? — We'll have mercy upon him 
 after the fatigues of the House !" 
 
 This arrangement was assented to ; 
 and as Emily was going, Lord Belmont 
 said, «' I hope. Miss Villars, Mrs. Vala- 
 cort repeated Lady Sabina's message 
 respecting her horse, as she is now pro- 
 hibited from riding." 
 
 " I ought to beg Lady Sabina's par- 
 don, my Lord, for neglecting to request 
 you would convey my acknowledgment 
 for the obliging offer, but I am too great a 
 coward to attempt an exhibition in Hyde 
 Park." 
 
 " My sister would, I am sure, attend 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. ^35 
 
 you in any more private airing : she is 
 quite lost for want of a companion on 
 horseback." 
 
 ** I shall easily satisfy Lady Laura, 
 that I should be more of a drawback than 
 an addition to her pleasure ; I have un- 
 fortunately increased in timidity.'* 
 
 " Come, Belmont ! come !" cried the 
 Duchess ; " we are waiting for you ! — 
 Apropos ! Miss Villars, do you waltz ?" 
 
 " Me, Ma'am ! no, indeed ! I hope 
 Your Grace don't suspect it !" exclaimed 
 Emily, with the most eager naivete. 
 
 The Duchess laughed, and Lord Cran- 
 raore cast a glance of such delight upon 
 Emily as, happening to meet her eye, 
 impressed her with the consciousness of 
 a charm in his countenance she had not 
 before remarked. 
 
 " I was only going to propose a little 
 dejeune, and practice here, with my 
 nieces, on Tuesday morning," said the 
 Duchess : " they have not, I believe, 
 completed their set ; but I see you are not 
 
^S6 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 yet quite up to us town ladies. She is, how- 
 ever, a pretty elegant creature for all 
 that," coutiiHied the Duchess, turning to 
 Mrs. Valacort, ** and you will soon rub 
 off her country rust." 
 
 **Heaven forbid V* exclaimed Colonel 
 Maxwell, "though the injury should not 
 be quite as fatal as to Scriblerus's shield ; 
 depend upon it, any change must be for 
 the worse ! ' 
 
 He was about to offer her his arm as he 
 spoke, but perceiving Lord Cranmore's 
 motion for the same purpose, lie drew 
 back, saying, ** Ah, well! go together 
 for a pair of unfashionables as you are! 
 Would to Heaven !" he added, in a 
 whisper to Mrs. Valacort, *' he had the 
 charge of her through life, but there's 
 an awkward impediment in the way.'* 
 
 « What?" 
 
 " Don't you know ?" 
 
 ** No." 
 
 *< Another time, then : — will you give 
 me my soup to-morrow ?'* 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. ^SJ 
 
 ** And every other dciy i!iat you are in- 
 clined to take it.*' 
 
 " Have a care! tiie diliiculty may be 
 to get rid of me, now you have this at- 
 traction.'* 
 
 " Out upon you, for that unmannerly 
 now / it would be a true touch of the wo- 
 man to retract the invitatioji.'' 
 
 " But I rely upon another feminine 
 attribute for av erting your wrath." 
 
 ** This is not your first trial of it, if you 
 mean my good nature." 
 
 " I see I may safely leave the interpre- 
 tation in your own hands j you; will not 
 make it very severe, — so good night 1 a 
 demain.*' 
 
Q38 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 When Emily saw Mrs. Valacort the 
 next morning, " I hope," she said, " the 
 Duchess did not keep you longer than 
 she talked of!" 
 
 ** No, I took care of that : her ne- 
 phew came from the club, and I made 
 him take my place : I was at home before 
 four : I dare say they went on long 
 after day-light, but I always keep re- 
 gular hours, as I told you." 
 
 " Regular hours!" thought Emily. 
 
 «* Ah! how judicious in Miss J to 
 
 endeavour at restoring * things to their 
 right names;' and how I do wish my poor 
 aunt could find time to let me read the 
 book to her !" 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 259 
 
 ** By the way," continued Mrs. Vala- 
 cort, " yon are a sly little gypsey, after 
 all, Emily, with your demure looks! 
 here are you coquetting with no less 
 than three of the first marrying men in 
 the kingdom, — to say nothing of that 
 Lord Belmont, whose manner to you I 
 don't above half like ? — " 
 
 The term sly was so very odious to 
 Emily, and the accusation of coquetry so 
 new, that she answered, with the utmost 
 gravity, '' My dear aunt, I am looking 
 with impatience for one hour's respite 
 from your unceasing occupations to ex- 
 plain some circumstances that will, I 
 trust, convince you I do not deserve the 
 epithet sly, and that I hold coquetry in 
 abhorrence." 
 
 " Well, only don't make such an im- 
 portant matter of it, and to-morrow we 
 will discuss it all at leisure." 
 
 Mrs. Valacort had set so much apart 
 for Sunday-morning business, that Emily 
 concluded she rose earlier than usual on 
 
24-0 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 account of church, so she asked, " Is 
 your church near at hand?" 
 
 «< Church! O a. e, true, you'll want 
 to go to church ; let's see ! there's South 
 Audley Chapel just by! the Belmonts 
 have a pew there : you might ask Lady 
 Laura tor leave to go into it : I dare 
 say they scarce ever fill it themselves.*' 
 
 " Wny mayn't I go v^here you do ?" 
 
 *' The thing is that I am apt to be 
 late, and so I go to St. James's Chapel, 
 where that is of no great consequence, 
 because I have the entrees of the Peeress's 
 closet, being an honourable, you know, 
 (she was daughter to a Viscount,) but 
 till you qualify, by giving your hand to 
 Lord Cranmore, you can't enjoy that 
 privilege." 
 
 Emily was hurt at the carelessness with 
 which her aunt treated a subject of such 
 moment ; and turning to her uncle, with 
 a very serious air, she said, " I suppose 
 there must be churches where a seat may 
 be obtained by paying the pew-opener : 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. Qifl 
 
 perhaps my uncle would be so good as to 
 take me to one of those.'* 
 
 Mrs. Valacort, who really had once a 
 right sense of her duties, and was now in 
 fact more led away, from never giving 
 herself time for reflection, than from 
 actual dereliction of principle, felt rather 
 confused, and said, " I assure you, 
 Emily, when I am in the country I go 
 to church very regularly." 
 
 " O ! that you were there all the year 
 round !" exclaimed Emily, from the 
 bottom of her heart. 
 
 " Was there ever such an unconscion- 
 able wish !" she cried, and desirous to 
 change the conversation, she asked Mr. 
 Valacort, whether he meant to go to the 
 opera. 
 
 " It has occurred to me that this dear 
 girl would enjoy seeing the whole of it,'* 
 he replied, " and that is more than you 
 are up to 1*' 
 
 -*' Lud ha' mercy ! I should die of it !" 
 was the answer. 
 
 VOL. II. M 
 
^i^ DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 *< Then, my proposal is, that Emily 
 and I should make luncheon our dinner, 
 and take in overture and all : I shall en- 
 joy it myself; for well as I love music, I 
 have never heard that, nor even the 
 whole of the first act yet." 
 
 " Pray settle it so, then, and much 
 good may it do you! — I wish I liked 
 music !" 
 
 " But as you do not," said Emily, ** I 
 wonder you subscribe to so many con- 
 certs ! for I think I have heard of one 
 every night, beside the Tuesday and 
 Saturday's opera." 
 
 ** When you have been with me a 
 little longer, you will find out that all is 
 done for fashion in London, and scarce 
 any thing for pleasure : you can hardly 
 conceive how one is harassed with the 
 duties of society, and the penance one 
 has to endure in conformity with the 
 taste of the times. — What do you smile 
 at?" addressing Henry, who was just 
 come in time to hear this speech. 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. ^43 
 
 '^^ To think how unlucky it is the days 
 of convents should have passed away in 
 this country: — with such a disposition 
 for voluntary penance, what an edifying 
 nun you would have made !" 
 
 " I declare, Henry, you are worthy to 
 be a pupil of Maxwell's, who, by the 
 bye, has invited himself to dinner here 
 to-day Lionel ! and I rather shrink from 
 a tete-d'tete with him : he takes the liberty 
 of lecturing me now and then, which I 
 don't so well relish : I wish you'd come 
 and protect me, Henry !" 
 
 *« No, no J we must have Henry with 
 us to the opera," said Mr. Valacort. 
 
 " Well ; Maxwell is so eccentric that 
 one need not much mind him, that's one 
 good thing !" 
 
 «< Is he ?" said Emily, *« he struck me 
 as uncommonly agreeable !" 
 
 " Cela va sans dircy — you struck him, 
 
 you know : those strokes are always 
 
 mutual; but what is Bonaire bringing 
 
 upon that great waiter ? Oh, poor Emily ! 
 
 M S 
 
£44 DOMESTIC SCENES^* 
 
 all the ' at home's' to you, in conse- 
 quence of tlie tickets sent round ! Now 
 you'll Ibiiii a more competent notion of 
 all that's to be done and to be avoided ; 
 and here are twenty notes about my 
 private box at Covent-Garden, — that's 
 another eternal torment there's no doing 
 without. Come, Bonaire, do rid us of 
 these breakfast-things, and let's set to 
 work. Lord !" she exclaimed, as she 
 was looking over the various cards to 
 answer, '* here's another provoking 
 blunder of that blockhead I have just 
 turned away! — I have been avoiding 
 this w^oman hke the plague, and here's 
 her ticket 1 he must have sent mine to 
 her, or she could never have ventured 
 upon it." 
 
 *' Is she a woman of bad character?'* 
 inquired Emily, pleased, after what had 
 passed the last night, to find her aunt 
 making distinctions. 
 
 " I know nothing about her cha- 
 racter," was the reply : '' that's her own 
 concern j she may be a, very good sort of 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 S45 
 
 woman, for any thing I can tell, but 
 she's abominably mauvais ton, — be-dia- 
 monded from head to foot upon all 
 occasions; so vulgar! I should be shocked 
 to death to have her seen at one of my 
 parties, — and lives in Bedford Square 
 into the bargain !" 
 
 Mrs. Valacort was too busy sorting 
 and writing, while stating all these in- 
 superable objections, to observe the sor- 
 sowful surprise in Emily's countenance, 
 at finding her aunt so very fine a lady. 
 
 Among the notes, was a proposal from 
 Laura to take Emily to Kensington- 
 Gardens, which Mrs. Valancort would 
 not suffer her to decline, aware of the 
 influence of air and exercise upon her 
 looks. She very reluctantly gave way ; 
 but knew not how to state her fear of 
 Lord Belmont's being of the party before 
 her uncle and brother. Mrs. Valacort 
 had no time for the gardens herselfj but 
 concluded Lady Saltland would be the 
 chaperon. 
 
 M 3 
 
246 DOMESTIC SCENES* 
 
 When the barouche came to the door, 
 however, Laura alone was in it. She 
 had imagined that Mrs. Valacort, with 
 whom she wished for opportunities to 
 curry favour, would join them, when she 
 saw no other chaperon; and had got rid of 
 her mother by asserting that it was so 
 settled. Being disappointed in this, she 
 however quieted all scruples about pro- 
 priety, by saying, that Lady Sabina had 
 promised to follow, if they would wait 
 for her in an alcove of one of the retired 
 walks. 
 
 This impressed Emily with the dread 
 of Lord Belmont's attending his lady ; 
 and she eagerly addressed an inquiry to 
 her uncle, " Whether he never turned 
 his horse's head that way ?" 
 
 " Not often," he said ; " but he was 
 willing to do so, if she wished it." 
 
 As they were driving oif, Lord Cran- 
 more rode up, and, finding where they 
 were going, asked leave to attend them ? 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 247 
 
 which was readily granted, Henry ac- 
 companying the ladies in the barouche. 
 
 The plan of waiting for Lady Sabina 
 was soon relinquished. Emily, ignorant 
 of the ettiquette of chaperonage^ thought 
 her uncle and brother sufficient protec- 
 tion, and Laura was very careless about 
 the matter. 
 
 As they approached the parapet wall 
 which opens the gardens to Hyde Park, 
 they found themselves in a crowd, whose 
 attention seemed fixed to something 
 passing near the Serpentine River. — In- 
 quiring what had happened?- 
 
 " Some forlorn damsel making a gentle 
 attempt at felo-de-se to excite compas- 
 sion, I conceive !'' answered a dashing 
 man who, with his glass at his eye, was 
 coolly contemplating the scene. 
 
 " Gracious Heaven !" exclaimed 
 Emily, turning deadly pale; — Lord 
 Cranmore and Henry rushed out of the 
 gardens, and were at the spot in an 
 instant. 
 
 M 4 
 
248 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 " For goodness' sake !" cried Laura, 
 " don't let us make a scene here ! she 
 means herself no irreparable mischief, I 
 dare say, or she would have taken her 
 time better." 
 
 With a look of indignation at Laura, 
 for this unfeeling speech, Mr. Valacort 
 led Emily away to the bench opposite 
 the door 5 who, though ready to sink, was 
 straining her eyes after her brother and 
 Lord Cranmore^ wholly unconscious of 
 having attracted those of all the surround- 
 ing men. 
 
 Lord Cranmore soon returned, eagerly 
 exclaiming, — "She is not dead! — But 
 I have, perhaps, taken an unwarrantable 
 liberty with your carriage. Lady Laura, 
 in having her put into it, to be conveyed 
 to a medical acquaintance of mine, not a 
 hundred yards from the Park gate." 
 
 Emily's approbation of his zeal and 
 feeling was strongly expressed in her 
 countenance. 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 249 
 
 ^' It will not be very comfortable for 
 us to get into afterwards, I fancy," was 
 Laura's observation, " though we shall 
 have the resource of Sabina's ; only, I 
 dare say, it's all a trick, and one hates 
 to be the dupe of that sort of thing." 
 
 Lord Cranmore cast a contemptuous 
 glance upon her, and told Emily, " All 
 the account he could obtain was, that 
 the unhappy girl had shown evident 
 symptoms of derangement before jump- 
 ing in, and had been quickly taken out, 
 but insensible, and continued so : no one 
 seemed to know any thing of her, and 
 nothing was found about her by which 
 ishe could be recognised ; she seemed 
 young and pretty. Villars has taken 
 charge of depositing her at my friend's, 
 who is an eminent surgeon and a very 
 worthy man ; if she be recoverable he 
 will spare no pains." 
 
 When Henry returned, he reported 
 that the surgeon was fortunately at home, 
 and showed the most compassionate at- 
 
250 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 tention to her, and all proper means 
 were resorted to; but, when he came 
 away, she remained insensible, and the 
 surgeon begged to see Lord Cranmore 
 when he left the gardens. 
 
 " He might be very sure I intended 
 it," was the answer. 
 
 Lady Sabina at length appeared ; and 
 a gentleman, who had ridden by the 
 side of her carriage, having alighted to 
 offer her his arm, Emily concluded it 
 could only be Lord Belmont, and imme- 
 diately said to her uncle, ** Now, that 
 we can leave Lady Laura under the 
 protection of her sister, we must advert 
 to the hour, my dear Sir: I can very 
 well walk back to Stanhope Street". 
 
 " It is, indeed, time," replied Mr. 
 Valacort ; " and possibly there may be 
 no objection to your having the use of 
 the disqualified carriage, as Lady Sabina*s 
 is here j you will have no fears, Emily, 
 of the traces the poor creature may have 
 left." 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 251 
 
 " They were guarded against in the 
 first instance," said Lord Cranmore ; 
 " she was wrapped up in the coachman's 
 great coat." 
 
 The arrangement was acceded to, 
 and Lady Sabina entered the gardens 
 leaning on the arm — not of her husband, 
 but of the Duke of Ulswater. 
 
 Her Ladyship was coldly civil in her 
 notice of Emily; till, upon Lord Cran- 
 more's saying something in her ear, she 
 seemed to recollect herself, and, in a 
 more obliging manner, apologised on the 
 score of her miserable morning suffer- 
 ings, for not having called in Stanhope 
 Street. 
 
 Emily, far better pleased to receive 
 the apology than the visit, replied, with 
 her usual sweetness ; adding an acknow- 
 ledgement for the obliging offer of the 
 horse J which produced an indication of 
 surprise that did not escape her notice, 
 and satisfied her that the offer had been 
 made without Lady Sabina's sanction f a 
 M 6 
 
25^ DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 sliglit inclination of the head was the 
 only answer. 
 
 Lord Cranmore having put Emily into 
 the barouche, left her to go and see 
 after the poor rescued girl j and Henry 
 then informed her of some farther par- 
 ticulars. " When Lord Cranmore first 
 interfered, there was one young man 
 remarkably assiduous about the appa- 
 rently lifeless object, which naturally led 
 to our inquiring whether he were any 
 ways connected with her : No ; she don't 
 seem to be known to any body, was the 
 answer ; but no doubt that young spark 
 looks for his reward if she can be re- 
 covered, for she's very young and pretty. 
 Upon a nearer approach Lord Cranmore 
 recognised him for a determined pro- 
 fligate, and he observed to me, ' the 
 poor creature may be recovered to a 
 worse fate ! We can secure her against 
 that at least 1' Advancing, therefore, with 
 an air of authority, he said, ' I know- 
 something of this unfortunate girl ; be 
 so good as to make way, that I may see 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 253 
 
 proper care taken of her ;' and beckon- 
 ing Lord Saltland's servants to him, who 
 had joined the crowd, he sent one of 
 them for the coachman's box-coat, with 
 orders for the barouche to draw up to 
 the rail ; and then seeing her carefully 
 wrapped in it, he directed the men to 
 take her to the carriage, leaving the 
 charge with me of conducting her safely 
 to the surgeon's, whilst he returned 
 himself to satisfy your anxiety, that life 
 had not fled." 
 
 Emily expressed her approbation of 
 Lord Cranmore's proceedings, with a 
 warmth that delighted her uncle, although 
 unconscious herself of all that it betrayed. 
 Her esteem was indeed increased by 
 every opportunity that offered of com- 
 paring him with other young men. 
 
 She enjoyed a most comfortable interval 
 of quiet, during her aunt's morning visits'; 
 at whose return towards seven, Mr. Vala- 
 cort was summoned to attend his niece to 
 the opera. I have stopped the carriageto 
 
1854 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 take you," said Mrs. Valacort, " that 
 you may liave overture and all : I am 
 determined to give you a surfeit at once; 
 but Emily, you are not half sufficiently 
 dressed : we shall proceed straight from 
 the opera to Lady Watson's supper." 
 
 Emily looked surprised. *« I thought, 
 my dear aunt, it was near one, when my 
 uncle came back on Tuesday." 
 
 « Well ! wliat then ?" 
 
 " That would be Sunday morning, 
 you know." 
 
 '' Pho, nonsense 1 it won't prevent 
 your going to church : Chalmers tells me 
 you are always up by nine, whatever time 
 you go to bed ; so go and ornament 
 yourself a little more." 
 
 a Forgive me, my dearest aunt, if I 
 for once resist your commands : my go- 
 ing to Lady Watson's supper can neither 
 be of importance to her, nor to any one 
 else ; and indeed it is very important 
 to me not to do what I think wrong, 
 even if I thought it erroneously." 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. ^5 
 
 Emily so eminently possessed the fo?-- 
 titer in re with the suaviter in modo, that 
 Mrs. Valacort gave way ; and said, " The 
 carriage shall bring you home, then, when 
 you have set us down : to be sure nobody 
 should do what they think wrong ; that 
 makes all the difference. I wouldn't do 
 that myself, but I am convinced there is 
 nothing wrong in it." 
 
 " I hope you have duly weighed both 
 sides of the question, and then convic- 
 tion may be a sure guide," replied Emily 
 rather seriously. 
 
 " Well, well ! don't you be righteous 
 over-much, Emily! for I give you my 
 word the world won't bear with that 
 at all." 
 
 Emily thought the world acted very 
 much in character in endeavouring to 
 put righteousness out of the question j but 
 having carried her point, she judiciously 
 let the argument rest for the present; and 
 having received very strict injunctions 
 not to sit forward in the bo.v, till her aunt 
 
^56 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 should join them, <* as that was deemed 
 improper until it had the sanction of the 
 chaperon-,'^ she promised obedience; and 
 set off' with her uncle, not a little struck 
 with the things that are considered of 
 importance in this great world, and those 
 that are 7iot 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 257 
 
 CHAP. XIII. 
 
 Colonel Maxwell came according to 
 his appointment, and rejoiced to find it a 
 tete-d'tete dinner: ** For I am anxious 
 to have some serious conversation with 
 you, respecting your pretty niece," he 
 said. 
 
 *« You would be a good deal sur- 
 prised," said Mrs. Valacort, still a little 
 provoked with Emily's resistance, " to 
 discover what a fund of self-willed ob- 
 stinacy lurks under that air of persuad- 
 able sweetness, that leads one to expect 
 she would give way to every body." 
 
 " i exactly read in her countenance," 
 returned Colonel Maxwell, "that species 
 of genuine sweetness of disposition, that 
 will give up her own pleasure to any 
 
258 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 one j but her sense of right to no one: 
 very different from that indiscriminate 
 good nature we are apt to extol in the 
 world, as easily persuaded into a bad 
 action, as out of a good one." 
 
 " I see she has very completely fas- 
 cinated you, be she what she may." 
 
 " She has, upon my soul ! and that 
 makes me anxious to talk to you." 
 
 The call to dinner here interrupted 
 him. When the servants were withdrawn, 
 he resumed the subject by observing, 
 
 '' Lord Cranmore appears to be very 
 seriously captivated by Miss Villars." 
 
 <* I hope he is ; and a very well as- 
 sorted match it will be. Lionel and I 
 were talking it over last night : she'll 
 make a very pretty peeress; and they 
 may set about reforming the beau monde 
 together, for they are both so desperately 
 good, and moral, and religious, and all 
 that sort of thing." 
 
 ** I wish from the bottom of my soul, 
 he was all that sort of thing," with a 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 259 
 
 half smile '* that she is ; but there's a sad 
 spoke in the wheel, that her nice sense 
 of right and wrong will hardly get over." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" 
 
 " Have you never heard of Mrs. Sid- 
 ney ?" 
 
 " Lord ! who cares about a Mrs. Sid- 
 ney, when marriage is in question ? she'll 
 be provided for like other Mrs. Sidneys ; 
 and better, for the Kingsboro's are as 
 rich as Jews, you know\" 
 
 " But this is not a Mrs. Sidney in the 
 common run. If money could have 
 satisfied her, Cranmore, I'm told, has 
 made her the noblest offers ; but she 
 is passionately attached to him, and a 
 woman of such respectable conduct — '* 
 
 " Respectable conduct !" interrupting 
 him ; " bless my heart, Maxwell ! how 
 can you talk such nonsense of a kept 
 woman ?" 
 
 ** 1 really believe I am doing her no 
 more than justice, except in the one 
 instance of her weakness to him 5 and 
 
S60 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 there are some interesting and extenuat- 
 ing circumstances belonging to that, I 
 am told, but of those I am not quite 
 master. What I know to be fact, how- 
 ever, is, that she is treated not only with 
 affection but respect, both by Lord 
 Leonard and an old general officer re- 
 lated to the Marchioness, who has ex- 
 pressed himself strongly upon the subject 
 in presence of a friend of mine." 
 " Ridiculous stuff!" 
 <« She leads a life of absolute seclusion, 
 and is a most attentive mother to two 
 lovely children, a boy and a girl." 
 
 " Good Heavens ! could any body 
 bear the idea of his disgracing himself 
 by such a marriage ? marking the prior 
 misconduct of his wife, moreover, by the 
 distinction between untitled and titled 
 children ! I give you my word. Max- 
 well, that indulgent as one is obliged to 
 be in the world, I hold the present bare- 
 faced introduction of illegitimate child- 
 ren to be far more pernicious in its 
 15 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 26l 
 
 effect upon good morals; than even ma- 
 trimonial infidelity, where appearances 
 are saved.'* 
 
 " I won't dispute which may be the 
 worst of two things so very bad ; only I 
 admire your newly awakened zeal upon 
 the subject," smiling : " I conclude you 
 have intimated it to General Falkland, 
 that he may make over his pretty daugh- 
 ter in future to some greater latitudina- 
 rian in morals." 
 
 ** Now I could kill you for that saucy 
 speech ; for you know very well how 
 often one is obliged, in conformity with 
 the world, to act contrary to one's own 
 view of things ; and she's an elegant 
 inoffensive girl, and the General is a dis- 
 tant relation, and very rich — " 
 
 " Say no more ! say no more ! that 
 last argument is of such acknowledged 
 weight, what child of this world could 
 set it at nought ! But seriously, whether 
 any body may go so far as to wish Cran- 
 more to marry this woman, I cannot say : 
 
262 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 what I have heard asserted is, that his 
 marrying any other will break her heart ; 
 and just so much I wished you to know, 
 before you sufter that lovely girl's affec- 
 tions to be irretrievably engaged ; for it 
 is evident that he is over head and ears 
 in love with her." 
 
 " Well then, seriously, I shall take it 
 extremely ill of you, if you give the re- 
 motest hint to Emily of what you have 
 now been telling me ; for she is such a 
 romantic little enthusiast, that there is no 
 knowing what effect it might have upon 
 her." 
 
 « You may rely upon my not taking 
 the liberty of going one step beyond 
 what I have done in a matter of such 
 extreme delicacy ; but I could not feel 
 satisfied that you should be unacquainted 
 with what might be productive of much 
 misery, if discovered too late." 
 
 *< To tell you the truth, I am quite 
 a fatalist with respect to marriage. I 
 think all interference useless : what is to 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. ^6S 
 
 be, will be; and you will be quite a con- 
 vert to my doctrine, when I inform you 
 how unaccountably Lionel and I were 
 brought together." 
 
 *« Well, try your hand," he replied, 
 a good deal provoked with her impene- 
 trability to what he deemed of such 
 moment, but fully aware he should do 
 no good by pursuing the subject. 
 
 As her faith in fatalism, as well as her 
 zeal for good morals, both seemed to 
 originate in the eager wish for the union 
 she had in view ; and that it is most 
 likely the reader's opinions will not be 
 shaken by her ' argumens en Vair,' it 
 may be more interesting to suppress the 
 remainder of this conversation, and in- 
 quire with Lord Cranmore after the poor 
 rescued girl. 
 
 The report of the surgeon was so far 
 favourable, that the vital powers were 
 rapidly resuming their functions ; but 
 no symptoms of sensibility yet appeared 
 to any thing about herj she groaned 
 
264 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 heavily ; had opened her eyes without 
 seeming to see, and that was all. 
 
 Lord Cranmore determined to wait 
 till some appearance of returning con- 
 sciousness should give a chance of ob- 
 taining what might guide his further 
 proceedings respecting her. 
 
 At the end of about an hour, the sur- 
 geon informed him, that she seemed to 
 be muttering indistinctly to herself, but 
 took no notice of any questions put to 
 her. He then went up with the surgeon ; 
 on their opening the door she turned her 
 head to look at them, but immediately 
 turned back to the posture she had 
 been in. 
 
 The surgeon inquired how she found 
 herself? to which she made no reply. 
 
 Lord Cranmore had a remarkably 
 agreeable toned voice, and with an ex- 
 pression of much kindness, repeated the 
 question ; she seemed struck with the 
 SOUi. 1. 
 
 " Vastly well," said she, with a very 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 265 
 
 ^uick motion of her head to look at him. 
 After a little pause, " You see I did 
 quite right," she added. 
 
 " In what ?" 
 
 *« In jumping into the water, to ex- 
 tinguish the flames." 
 
 " What flames ?" 
 
 " Dear ! what a question ! why the 
 flames my clothes caught from my 
 mother's bed, to be sure." 
 
 A compassionate glance was exchanged 
 between Lord Cranmore and the surgeon : 
 hoping, however, that by continuing to 
 make her talk, something might be dis- 
 covered, he resumed, 
 
 " Had you ran far before you reached 
 the water?" 
 
 " Farther than I shall tell you, may- 
 hap." 
 
 <* Won't your mother be uneasy at 
 your absence ?" 
 
 " Very likely ; but there's no help for 
 that, you know." 
 
 " If you will tell me where to find 
 
 VOL. 11. N 
 
ft6G DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 your mother, I will let her know you are 
 safe and welL" 
 
 *' Will you ? so do, then 5 it will be 
 very good-natured of you.'* 
 
 He stopped for some time, hoping she 
 would say more ; but she had again 
 turned from him. 
 
 ** Where shall I send to your mother?** 
 
 " O dear! it would be a very good 
 joke to tell you that : thank you for no- 
 thing 1" 
 
 ** Why, where would be the harm 
 of it? 
 
 " I should be found out directly, you 
 know.** 
 
 " And would your mother be unkind 
 if she found you out ?** 
 
 *« How can you think of such a thing ? 
 She never was unkind to any body in her 
 life.'^ 
 
 <« Why are you unwilling she should 
 find vou out then ?" 
 
 *' Dear ! how dull you are ! it*s hi7?t 
 that I'm afraid of, if I must speak outc'* 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 207 
 
 " And would your mother tell him V* 
 
 *' How do I know ? He made just as 
 great a fool of her, as he did of me : he'd 
 wheedle the heart out of any one : but 
 I've nicked him now, you see ; so it's all 
 very well that he betrayed his pur- 
 pose." 
 
 ** If you will direct me to your mother, 
 rely upon it he shall not know where 
 you are." 
 
 " I wonder what business it is of 
 yours, after all : you are one of the 
 smooth-tongued ones, I see: — like him 
 for that : but I shan't be taken in again, 
 I promise you." 
 
 " It is my earnest wish to serve you, 
 if you will tell me your mother's name." 
 
 " A pretty story, indeed ! that I should 
 tell you what she has taken such pains 
 all her life to conceal, poor soul ! No, no ! 
 not quite so weak as that neither; so 
 you may as well go about your business, 
 for not another word shall you get from 
 me, I can tell you;" and turning her- 
 N 2 
 
26s DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 self entirely away from him, she again 
 began muttering indistinctly, and paid 
 no further attention to any thing he 
 could say. 
 
 " We shall obtain nothing more for the 
 present, I perceive," said the surgeon ; 
 *« this is possibly only temporary alien- 
 ation : care and quiet may produce some- 
 thing better to-morrow." 
 
 Lord Cranmore mentioned his solicit 
 tude to rescue her from the profligate 
 young man, who was busying himself so 
 much about her, 
 
 •* Your Lordship may rest assured she 
 shall remain in safety here, till we can 
 learn something more of her," said the 
 worthy man. ** Young, pretty, and inno- 
 cent as she appears, she must soon be 
 enquired after in some way or other, that 
 may guide our further proceedings. My 
 wife and daughter will be at home in the 
 course of the day, and will pay her every 
 attention ; I can answer for them." 
 
 Tliey then agreed upon the advertise^ 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. ^()9 
 
 ^nent to be inserted in the newspapers, 
 respecting her. 
 
 Lord Cranmore enjoined him to spare 
 no expence in getting whatever might 
 be necessary for her, as well as placing 
 a careful person about her ; and then 
 prepared himself to go and make his re- 
 port to Emily at the opera in the even- 
 ing. 
 
 She asked whether he thought that a 
 female might inspire confidence to make 
 her more explicit ? as she seemed to ap- 
 prehend some snare 5 adding, " I should 
 very much like to try my influence." 
 
 " I have every reason to think that 
 irresistible," he replied ; " but we must 
 endeavour to be sure of the poor girl's 
 real situation, before it could be proper 
 to let you approach her : we have a good 
 old housekeeper who may possibly suc- 
 ceed better with her than I have done 
 I will get her to go to her to-morrow, if 
 the surgeon has continued to fail in ob- 
 taining any thing more." 
 
 N S 
 
570 DOMESTIC SCENES, 
 
 Lord Cranmore's delicate attention to 
 propriety, upon every occasion, made its 
 due impression upon Emily. 
 
 Mrs. Valacort arrived at the half of 
 the second act, attended by Colonel 
 Maxwell. " Have I at last succeeded 
 in being in time for the duett ?" said shC:, 
 as she entered the box. 
 
 ** It is just over," Mr. Valacort an- 
 swered. 
 
 " Well, then, 1 give it up ; for never, 
 by any chance, can I expect to be earlier 
 than to-night.'* 
 
 " Do you much care, dear aunt ?'' 
 Emily asked, with something of an arch 
 smile. 
 
 ** Certainly, because every body talks 
 of it, and one likes to have something to 
 say." 
 
 *< If that's all, I should think a sug- 
 gestion from Valacort might answer your 
 purpose," said the Colonel. 
 
 ** Why, perhaps it might do as well, 
 if not better," she answered, laughing ; 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. S?!' 
 
 *« you know I don't pretend to love 
 music, or be a connoisseur ; I'm sure 
 I needn't ask how Emily has been pleased; 
 I see it in her countenance." 
 
 Never indeed had Emily passed an 
 evening of such uninterrupted, exquisite 
 enjoyment : passionately fond of music 9 
 to hear the perfection of composition 
 performed in a style so perfect ; to have 
 her uncle join in all her raptures, and the 
 intervals filled up by interesting, agree- 
 able con versation — produced altogether a 
 calm delight, that beamed in her eyes, 
 and was retiectea m tnose or Loxaciau- 
 
 more to a degree perfectly satisfactory 
 to Mrs. Valacort, 
 
 " I advise you not to let orangeade 
 or ice approach the lips of that pretty 
 creature, during her stay amongst us," 
 said Colonel Maxwell to Mrs. Valacort, 
 in a half whisper, not meant to be un- 
 heard. 
 
 *' Why ? there would be no living in 
 such heat and crowds without them !" 
 N 4 
 
S75 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 ** Because she will assuredly be poi* 
 soned, in revenge for being such a living 
 satire upon the times ; offering so striking 
 a contrast, by the attractive elegance of 
 her modest costume, (Emily's style of 
 dress was equally chasteand well-fancied,) 
 to all the picturesque Torso's so unre- 
 servedly exhibited by misses and matrons, 
 stripping * a qui mieiij: mieux' for the 
 public benefit, dear liberal souls 1 Pray 
 Heaven they may but know where to 
 stop !" with a very arch glance at Mrs. 
 Valacort, who, though somewhat short 
 ot tastiionable exposure, was considerably 
 scantier of covering than her niece. 
 
 " A truce to your sarcasms ! Monsieur 
 le mauvais plaisant /" 
 
 "Nay, the mauvaise plaisanterie is in 
 your wicked imagination : I only venture 
 to hint a tender alarm at the increase of 
 this classical taste for the suppression of 
 drapery ; and wish to put Miss Villars 
 upon her guard against what may be 
 expected from the mamma's who shall 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. T/o 
 
 nnd her monopolising the admiration, for 
 ^vhich they are letting their daughters 
 forego what was once the acknowledged 
 characteristic of Englishwomen.'^ 
 
 *« Upon my life, you are become a 
 most intolerable cynic, Maxwell ! I shall 
 quite hate you, if you encourage this 
 girl in all her prudish singularities," 
 Mrs. Valacort answered in a slight tone 
 of pique ; for Emily had actually stood 
 a little contest with her upon the sub- 
 ject. 
 
 " Indeed I should deserve the fate 
 Colonel Maxwell deprecates," she said, 
 smiling, " if I had the presumption to 
 affect singularity : I merely wish to es- 
 cape notice, by adhering to what I have ' 
 been used to think right." 
 
 " If it amounted to marked singularity, 
 I should not so much admire it; tho' faith ! 
 in the cause of modesty, it might claim 
 exemption from censure, too! but the fact 
 is," appealing to the men in the box as he 
 .spoke, *< that her appearance is eminently 
 N 5 
 
^74f DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 fashionable, as well as elegant ; is it not 
 exactly what every father and brother 
 must wish, for those in whom they are 
 interested ?" 
 
 Lord Cranmore's eyes sparkled de- 
 lighted assent, but he did not trust himself 
 to speak. Mr. Valacort nodded and 
 smiled: he remained silent, however, from 
 unwillingness to wound his wife. 
 
 " What a triumph it will be to Ma- 
 rianne when she sees Miss Villars !'* 
 Colonel Maxwell continued. 
 
 " Pho ! she is a rank blue stocking, 
 and singularity is their element," Mrs. 
 Valacort replied. 
 
 " You would ascribe her unmodish 
 deviations to a better cause," he return- 
 ed, " had you witnessed the shock she 
 received in our trip to Paris, during the 
 peace of Amiens; from seeing a female 
 at the Institute in so statue-like a costume, 
 as caused us to turn away our eyes, in as 
 much disgust as I discovered just now 
 iu those of Miss Villars, at the first ap- 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. ^75 
 
 pearance of the undressed dancers; but 
 this par parenthese ; the shock I alluded 
 to, arose from the observation we over- 
 heard a Frenchman near us make to his 
 companion : ^Cest effectivement, un peu 
 forty mats que 'voulez vous P c'est le * nud 
 Anglois ;' nous nous copions mutuellement 
 tout en nous detestant,^ '* 
 
 " Pshaw ! I don't believe one word 
 of it!" cried Mrs. Valacort: ** it would 
 be too bad to have the reproach of inde- 
 licacy retorted upon us from thence !" 
 
 " It's fact, upon my honour ! * but 
 having named Marianne, puts me in 
 mind to request, that you will allow me to 
 gratify that best and most amiable of hu- 
 man beings, Lady Sarah Maxwell, by 
 introducing Miss Villars to her acquaint- 
 ance.*' 
 
 " I protest I don't know that I shall," 
 replied Mrs. Valacort : " why she's ab- 
 
 ♦ A fact, indeed, to which the author had the 
 mortification of being eye and ear-witness. 
 
 N 6 
 
276 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 solutely * nine times dipped,* and the 
 Phcenix of the sisterhood into the bar- 
 gain ; and this strange girl has this very 
 day been asserting, that she knew more 
 happy old maids, than wives ; and in- 
 stanced a foolish relation of hers, for one j 
 who tries the patience of all about her 
 fifty times a day.'* 
 
 " Not one of us ever saw het- out of 
 humour, tho', or heard her utter a cen- 
 sorious remark," interrupted Emily. 
 
 " But you'll acknowledge that she*s a 
 perfect fool, my dear !'* 
 
 " In that case, matrimony would not 
 have inspired her with wisdom," said 
 Colonel Maxwell : *' I am quite on your 
 side of the question, Miss Villars, the de- 
 cided champion of the sisterhood ; and 
 will not even allow my excellent aunt to 
 be the ray^a avis: I can produce a phalanx 
 of them, from her own society.*' 
 
 Emily gave him a look of such de- 
 lighted approbation, that he exclaimed, 
 ** Such another look as that, would be 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 277 
 
 enough to constitute me * Avocato del di- 
 avolo,' if his Holiness proffered it to me : 
 not," added he, laughing, '' that I meant 
 to insinuate, my spinsters lay on that 
 road ; for I do seriously contend for their 
 pre-eminence in various ways over the 
 same number of wives taken at a hazard : 
 do but consider how much good temper 
 must be retained from the avoidance of 
 matrimonial squabbles, and squalling 
 brats : in short, Miss Villars, if I may 
 introduce you to Lady Sarah's coterie, 
 I will show you a dozen at least of the 
 most cheerful, sensible, happy looking 
 beings you can desire to see.'* 
 
 ** And you can seriously be satisfied," 
 said Mrs. Valacort, " to let her train 
 your niece to the same forlorn prospect 
 of single blessedness?" 
 
 ** Upon my soul, when I look round 
 upon the men and women of our gay 
 circles, I shrink — " 
 
 *' Hush ! hush !" cried Mrs. Valacort, 
 ** you inveterate compound of prejudice 
 
^78 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 and formality I You incorrigible old ba-* 
 chelor ! in short I won't let you say 
 another word ;" and turning abruptly to 
 Lord Cranmore ; ** do you go to Lady 
 Watson's supper ?" she asked. 
 
 "I — I hav'n't determined," was his 
 hesitating reply. 
 
 Mrs. Valacort had been so struck upon 
 coming into the box, with her niece's 
 good looks ; that she could not resist 
 making one more attempt to persuade 
 her to go ; and had begun with him, in 
 the hope of getting an auxiliary. 
 
 *« Now, Emily," she proceeded j "here's 
 the opera over; it has but just struck 
 eleven ; the ballet you care little about ; 
 five minutes stopping at home would 
 add all that is needful of ornament to 
 your dress ; we might still be at Lady 
 Watson's before twelve ; and I will only 
 take one turn through the rooms with 
 you, and not stay supper myself: you 
 can make no possible objection to this !" 
 
 *« The very great one, my dear aunt, 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 279 
 
 of interfering with your pleasure ; beside 
 my reliance on your promise, of letting 
 me off, when I pleaded this cause before 
 leaving home : but how comes the opera 
 to end so much sooner to-night, than it 
 did on Tuesday ?" 
 
 " O ! because of the absurd and pro- 
 voking interference of the Bishops, you 
 know,*' appealing to Colonel Maxwell. 
 
 " Aye, weak men ! fancying that by 
 sending the fine world away from the 
 opera-house, before Sunday morning, 
 they could find no better resource than 
 going home !" he replied. 
 
 " My dear aunt, grant me in this 
 case the benefit of clergy !*' said Emily, 
 playfully. 
 
 " You are a most impracticable girl ! 
 and yet there's no knowing how to be 
 angry with you !** though Mrs. Valacort 
 felt half inclined to be so ; but the evident 
 approbation in the countenances of the 
 men, checked the expression of it ; and 
 she gave up the point. 
 
280 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 " My Lord, 1 bespeak you for ihy 
 beau ; and I'll carry you," turning to 
 Lord Cranmore. 
 
 But His Lordship just then recollected 
 it would be out of his power to attend 
 her. As he put Emily into the carriage, 
 he inquired where he might make his 
 report to her, respecting the poor girl, 
 next day ? 
 
 <* O ! at home, I earnestly hope ; but 
 it would be safer to ask my aunt." 
 
 <« Till four, in Stanhope-street," said 
 Mrs. Valacort, ** and then in Hyde Park ; 
 and then you know you are engaged to 
 dine with us ; and in the evening you 
 may attend us to the Sunday concert ; 
 
 and afterwards to Lady 's, if you feel 
 
 inclined." 
 
 '* Not us there/'* thought Emily; 
 ** but it will be time enough to debate 
 that point to-morrow." 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. €81 
 
 CHAP. XIV. 
 
 At Emily's return from church, she 
 found her aunt busily employed in routing 
 through her secretaire to collect her bills. 
 " Now you shall see," she cried, " how 
 regular I propose being in future, in my 
 household concerns 5 to guard against a 
 rpppfition of this odious business of 
 Walker's : you shall assist me in looking 
 over these ; and every fourth Sunday, I 
 will make a point of settling with the 
 housekeeper, and seeing that the bills are 
 duly receipted. Well ! why don't you 
 commend me? I assure you I want 
 encouragement to the task, for there's 
 nothing I hate half so much as attending 
 to money matters !" 
 
 " So that you inflict the penance upon 
 yourself on a Sunday, in atonement for 
 
282 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 not going to church ?" said Emily, with 
 a look half serious, half playful. 
 
 ** Lord, child ! you harp so much upon 
 going to church : I hope you are not a 
 slave to mere forms !'' 
 
 " I hope not, dear aunt : I should con- 
 ceive the form of going to church to be 
 of very little use, if the heart did not 
 prompt it.'* 
 
 " I'm sure it is easy to read a more 
 edifying sermon at home, than is to be 
 heard in most churches." 
 
 *' Very possibly ; but then the various 
 occupations set apart for a Sunday morn- 
 ing in London, may so frequently engross 
 the time appropriated for the edification — 
 to say nothing of the benefit of example.'* 
 
 " Indeed, Emily, I begin to fear, that 
 with all your serio-playful treatment of 
 this subject, you are in danger of becom- 
 ing a Methodist, if you are not one 
 already." 
 
 " I have proved myself so ignorant of 
 the value of terms here, that I am al- 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 283 
 
 most afraid to assert what I am. Pray 
 are all those reckoned Methodists, who 
 make any difference between Sunday and 
 a week-day, in London ?" 
 
 " No, no ! there ought to be a differ- 
 ence, assuredly ; and I would have you to 
 know I am far from being unmindful of 
 it ; and whenever I can get away without 
 giving offence, I make a point of being 
 at home earlier on a Saturday night than 
 on any other, that my servants may go 
 to church, if they choose it ; and I pay 
 for a pew for them, that they may have 
 no excuse : so I attend properly to their 
 religious duties, you see, whatever I may 
 do to my own." 
 
 Emily was too much grieved with her 
 aunt's inconsistency, and levity, on so 
 important a subject, to pursue it ; unless 
 she could have hoped to lead her into 
 more serious views, than could be ex- 
 pected with her head full of this pecu- 
 niary misfortune, for she was going on 
 rummaging. 
 
284< DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 " Pray, ai'e Lord Cranmore, and Sif 
 Edward Arundel, reckoned Methodists, 
 dear aunt?'* she however asked. 
 
 " Not that ever I heard of": why?" 
 
 " Because they really behaved at 
 chapel this morning as if they meant 
 something more than mere form, by going 
 there." 
 
 " Come, let's get through this trouble- 
 some job ; and if there's time afterwards, 
 you shall see that I am not quite so bad as 
 you seem to suspect ; for you shall read 
 me one of those new sermons you were 
 praising." 
 
 Emily's hopes awakened by this little 
 concession: she would fain have begun by 
 securing the time for the sermon ; but did 
 not urge it when objected to; judging 
 that her aunt, like a child, might possibly 
 be led by gentle degrees into doing what 
 she would set her strength to evade, if 
 too seriously enforced: the hold which 
 the world had taken upon an understand* 
 ing not naturally deficient, was so power- 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. ^85 
 
 ful, as to leave no opportunity for re- 
 flection to come in aid of better thoughts. 
 
 The clear-headedness of the assistant, 
 made much quicker work of the business 
 than might have been expected ; and the 
 loss sustained by the * trifling oversight,' 
 as Mrs. Valacort called it, of not casting 
 her eye upon the bills when returned to 
 her, to ascertain their being receipted; 
 amounted, in the course of the three 
 months, to considerably more than a 
 thousand pounds. Her husband's for* 
 bearance increased the delinquent's sense 
 of her carelessness; and she was suffi- 
 ciently vexed to form very pious resolu- 
 tions of greater accuracy in future ; which 
 her niece still hoped to improve into ob- 
 taining the substitution of an hour in a 
 week-day, instead of church-time on 
 Sunday, for carrying into eflect. 
 
 The sermon was then read, — and, 
 moreover, attended to and liked; for 
 Emily read remarkably well. Then 
 came the whole train of notes to be an^ 
 swered, about that * tormenting private 
 
OS6 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 box,' vvhicli Mrs. Valacort scarce ever 
 thought of occupying herself, but which 
 was an appendage of to?i, not to be relin- 
 quished : it was, however, refused to all 
 applications this week, that Emily might 
 have her choice of what she would see. 
 
 " And now for the drudgery of writ- 
 ing some hundred * At home to masks.* 
 I shall see masks on Thursday,'* said 
 Mrs. Valacort. 
 
 " Is there any chance of our getting 
 through all this Sunday-morning busi- 
 ness in time for me to engage your private 
 ear for an hour, my dear aunt? I am 
 very desirous of imparting some things 
 that you ought to know, both respecting 
 Sophia and myself." 
 
 *« O, certainly; and I am all impa- 
 ti^nce to hear them: — that shall be 
 during our airing in the Park : here, you 
 know, we are never secure from visitors; 
 and I couldn't bear to have the convers- 
 ation interrupted." 
 
 There were means of security that might 
 have been resorted to, Emily thought; 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 287 
 
 but she soon found it was the morning of 
 habitual call of some distinguished visit- 
 ors, who were not to be denied ; and she 
 saw her aunt's mind was completely en- 
 grossed with settling who was and who 
 was not to be invited to see masks ; so that 
 it could not be expected, family-occur- 
 rences should take place of business that 
 seemed of such importance: she therefore 
 quietly submitted to await the airing. 
 
 Lord Cranmore called at his return 
 from Knightsbridge, where the old house- 
 keeper had, by his directions, gone at an 
 earlier hour. Poor Patty (so they after- 
 wards found her name to be) had seemed 
 pleased at the sight of her, and asked, 
 ** If she were sister to Mrs. Hickson ? 
 she was dressed so like her.'* 
 
 " Barnes, hoping to obtain some inr 
 formation by humouring the idea," Lord 
 Cranmore said, " acknowledged herself 
 a relation ; and added, I hope Mrs. Hick- 
 son is your friend?'* 
 
 " Yes ; but if it hadn't been for my lady 
 I should have got no great good by that." 
 
S88 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 " And won't my lady be anxious to 
 know what is become of you ?" Barnes 
 asked. 
 
 ** Perhaps she may,*' she replied, 
 thouglitfully. 
 
 Barnes then offered to write and 
 inform her ladyship of her present 
 abode ; to which she seemed assent- 
 ing : but, when the pen and ink were 
 brought, she suddenly exclaimed, " O, 
 no, no 1 — you know, well enough, my 
 lady can keep nothing from Hickson, and 
 Hickson can keep nothing from George, 
 and so I should be obliged to run away 
 again ; silly, silly girl, to be so taken in- 
 — I see your drift, fast enough!** and 
 she burst into a flood of tears, and would 
 give no farther answer ; and in this state 
 I found them," he continued, " Barnes 
 endeavouring to soothe, but the poor 
 girl quite incoherent ; till, upon my dis- 
 missing the old woman, she, with great 
 eagerness, demanded a solemn oath, that 
 she would not inform Mrs. Hickson 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. S89 
 
 where she was. Upon this being complied 
 with, she became quieter, but would 
 take no notice of me whatever." 
 
 All that fell from the unhappy girl 
 seemed not only to denote her virtuous, 
 but anxious to continue so ; and Emily 
 again urged her wish to try her powers 
 of persuasion with her, to which he 
 now felt inclined to give way ; they 
 were settling the mode of proceeding, 
 when Mrs. Valacort interfered, and 
 strongly objected to exposing her niece 
 to an encounter with a mad woman ; if, 
 indeed, it were not, after all, a mere take- 
 in ; for she found it so impossible, she 
 said, in this great town to distinguish 
 real objects from impostors, that she 
 made it a rule, never to trust herself in 
 the way of imposition, but confined her 
 benefactions to the public charities, that 
 must, doubtless, be well regulated. 
 
 Lord Cranmore did not dispute the 
 prudence of the proceeding, nor make 
 any observation upon the possibility of 
 
 VOL. II. o 
 
290 DOMESTIC SCENES, 
 
 mismanagement, in charitable institu- 
 tions 5 but simply stated, that nothing 
 had yet made it clear this was a case for 
 charity, except of opinion, and for that 
 he somewhat warmly contended ; and was 
 seconded by Emily, who was not easily 
 deterred from an act of humanity, but 
 stood firm against all her aunt's argu- 
 ments, even when she brought forward 
 en dernier ressort, the royal ticket of ad- 
 mission to the rehearsal of the Ancient 
 Music, which she had obtained for the 
 next morning. 
 
 Lord Cranmore pledged himself for 
 the safety of his charitable associate ; 
 answered for the attention of the surgeon 
 and his family, who should be stationed 
 within call j and, at last, so far conquered 
 opposition, as that the carriage was 
 allowed to be ordered at twelve the 
 following day to carry Emily upon this 
 alarming expedition. 
 
 A succession of visitors now filled up 
 the time till the hour of resort to the 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. SQi 
 
 Park, where the confidential commiini- 
 cation was to take place in the midst of 
 the whole fashionable world; but here 
 again a disappointment awaited Emily, 
 who was not a little surprised to find that 
 what had been called a7i airing, termi- 
 nated in a stand still along the railing in 
 the Park that reaches from Hyde-Park- 
 corner to Grosvenor-gate ; closed in, by 
 all the equipages and four-in-hands in 
 town, and attracting all the gentlemen 
 on horseback to take their station by tlie 
 side of the carriages for the benefit of 
 conversation. Of course, every man of 
 Mrs. Valacort's acquaintance came up in 
 turn ; and it would have been far more 
 impracticable to pursue any interesting- 
 conversation here, than with the inter- 
 ruptions to be expected in Stanhope- 
 street. An air of vexation stole o\ er 
 Emily's features in spite of her endea- 
 vour to suppress it ; which Mrs. Vala- 
 cort perceiving, said, '' I really did not 
 intend getting into this, for it is often 
 o 2 
 
292 DOMESTIC SCENES* 
 
 attended with danger, and I am rather a 
 coward ; but our being so late made it 
 impossible to get on, or we should simply 
 have driven round the ring, seen this 
 curious spectacle at a distance, and con- 
 versed uninterruptedly, and at our ease." 
 
 Colonel Maxwell now came up to the 
 side of the carriage. 
 
 ** You might as well come into the 
 barouche to us, Maxwell," said Mrs. 
 Valacort, ** and see us safe out of this 
 hagarre, which, to say the truth, I did 
 not quite mean to bring Emily into." 
 
 The Colonel very readily obeyed. 
 
 " Surely," said Emily, " I must be 
 mistaken in what I fancy I see 1 for it 
 appears to me as if the coachman of that 
 stage-coach, which seems to be set fast 
 among the carriages, was kissing his hand 
 and nodding to you, dear aunt." 
 
 " You are only mistaken in what you 
 
 conceive him and his carriage to be," 
 
 said Mrs. Valacort, laughing ; " it is 
 
 Lord Mortlake : would he could have 
 
 i6 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 293 
 
 overheard you ! he would have taken it 
 as the highest compliment that could be 
 paid him." 
 
 ** Is it possible?" 
 
 <* Look a little farther," said Colonel 
 Maxwell, " to that open barouche- 
 landau, and you'll see something better 
 again ; you see a female on the box next 
 the driver ; that's Sir Timothy and 
 Lady Dashfoot ; and the inside of the 
 vehicle is occupied by the coachman and 
 two livery-servants." 
 
 Emily's hands and eyes were raised in 
 wonder. 
 
 ** And, what's more still — so emulous 
 are the whips of this high-minded gener- 
 ation of rivalling their coachmen in 
 every way, that they do not omit the ac- 
 companiment of a quid of tobacco ; and 
 one, has so far oiitstript his compeers, as 
 to have had a front tooth extracted that 
 he might dispose of the result of his 
 chaw in the most unquestionable style." 
 o 3 
 
^94* DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 " Are you not practising upon my cre- 
 dulity ?" 
 
 " I wish, with all my soul, I was j for, 
 I vow to Heaven, the follies of the age 
 make me almost ashamed of belonging 
 to it : and yet you have not heard all ; 
 for there is a select four-in-hand" club 
 established, where none but professional 
 language is spoken ; and any man ex- 
 pressing himself like a gentleman would 
 be expelled, as derogating from the spirit 
 of the noble institution." 
 
 Emily literally remained silent from 
 astonishment. 
 
 The danger Mrs. Valacort had an* 
 ticipated was speedily verified j her car- 
 riage got so locked in with others, as to be 
 raised from the ground in the attempt to 
 disengage it; and her terrors and screams 
 (which speedily brought flocks of men to 
 their assistance) now as much surprised 
 her niece, as her calmness among the 
 evening cuttings and lashings had done 
 before j not yet aware how much the 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES, 295 
 
 consciousness of exciting interest, in- 
 creases the fears of fine ladies. 
 
 Being finally extricated with safety, 
 and returned to Stanhope-street soon 
 after six, the confidential hour was at 
 length secured before the business of the 
 toilet required their attention ; and Emily 
 related all the family anecdotes she 
 thought it necessary to impart j amongst 
 which she made lighter of her own con- 
 duct, with respect to Charles Belmont, 
 than any other biographer would have 
 done : indeed, he was now so lowered in 
 her opinion, that she did not estimate the 
 sacrifice at the height it deserved when 
 she made it; neither did she represent in 
 its strongest light the levity of his so 
 speedy transfer of affection to Lady 
 Sabina ; but she most earnestly entreated 
 for Mrs. Valacort's concurrence in check- 
 ing the impropriety of his present con- 
 duct, which she stated forcibly as she 
 felt it; and it roused very just indig- 
 nation in her aunt, accompanied with the 
 o 4 
 
^296 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 promise of taking every method of keep- 
 ing him at a distance. 
 
 Of Lord Leonard Ormsby's attach- 
 ment to Mrs. Dehnere, and her decided 
 rejection, she also spoke ; but there Mrs. 
 Valacort's ideas differed widely, indeed : 
 she could think it little short of madness 
 in Sophia to reject such a lover, and 
 upon so absurd a plea! however, she 
 recommended it to Emily to urge her 
 sister's taking a house in town the next 
 winter, as the most likely means of 
 putting an end to such unaccountable 
 vagaries. 
 
 She was bent upon finding some other 
 grounds for Sir Edward Arundel's atten- 
 tions, than mere concern for Agatha ; 
 but he had thus far been so much upon 
 his guard, that whatever Emily's wishes 
 might be, she did not flatter herself with 
 his having more than a very respectful 
 friendship for her sister. 
 
 " Well ; and now have you told me 
 all ?'* Mrs. Valacort continued. 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. S97 
 
 ** I believe so/' said Emily. 
 
 " What! does poor Lord Cranmore 
 go for nothing?" 
 
 " I have nothing to tell about him.'* 
 
 " Do you mean that he never occupi^ 
 your thoughts more than any other given 
 person r^' 
 
 ** O no; I don't mean to say so : for 
 he occupies them more than almost any 
 body I am acquainted with.'* 
 
 " Come, you are an honest, open- 
 hearted girl, after all ! notwithstanding 
 your formality and prudery. So then, he 
 need not be very apprehensive of a 
 repulse when he comes to open his 
 mind?" 
 
 ** He gives me no reason to think 
 there is any thing to open his mind about ; 
 the distinction he pays me is very flatter- 
 ing, because I think it indicates esteem; 
 and his mind seems to me so much above 
 the common level, that I quite dwell 
 upon it with admiration ; but, I hope, 
 these sentiments are admissible on both 
 o 5 
 
^iOS DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 sides without implying any thing one 
 need hesitate to acknowledge.'^ 
 
 ** Well; we shall see how that may be/' 
 Mrs. Valacort replied, with an incredulous 
 smile, but cautious not to say any thing 
 too pointed just yet. 
 
 ** But you accused me of prudery, 
 dear aunt, — what do you mean?'* 
 
 ** Why don't you see that it*s the gene- 
 ral custom for women to shake hands with 
 every man that comes up to them? but 
 you draw back as if you had never been 
 in good company before." 
 
 " Indeed, I shook hands with Sir 
 Edward Arundel." 
 
 . ** And is he the only privileged man 
 in the world ? You held back from Sir 
 Tristram Traverse, at the Duchess's." 
 
 ** And is it not allowed here to dis- 
 tinguish a friend, from a coxcomb? If I 
 were to become so very fashionable all at 
 once, what would they say at my return 
 home? Have patience with me till Sophia 
 and I become town ladies together, next 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. J^99 
 
 winter, and then you shall see how we 
 will polish each other!" and she put au 
 end to the discourse by observing how 
 near it was to dinner-time ; so they ad- 
 journed to their respective toilets. 
 
 A dinner of twelve covers was an 
 unavoidable Sunday occurrence, Mrs. 
 Valacort told her niece, when they again 
 returned to the drawing-room, " as Sa- 
 turdays and Sundays were the only free 
 days for members of parliament." 
 
 In the evening, Emily pleaded hard to 
 be excused from the concert ; but this 
 was inadmissible ; liberty having been 
 obtained to introduce her as a special 
 favour : for the concert was limited to 
 subscribers. " It was quite a ridiculous 
 scruple," Mrs. Valacort said, half angrily, 
 ** when majesty itself countenanced 
 Sunday evening music ; she hoped Emily 
 did not think it necessary to exceed them 
 in piety !" 
 
 Emily would not have been at a los^ 
 for her reply; but she was not willing to 
 o 6' 
 
300 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 displease her aunt for trifles and forbore 
 arguing the point. She only stipulated, 
 therefore, to be set down at home after 
 the concert: no fear of displeasure would 
 have driven her to a card party ; and to 
 this, though somewhat reluctantly, Mrs. 
 Valacort at length agreed. 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 301 
 
 CHAP. XV. 
 
 The following morning punctually at 
 twelve, Emily set out for Knightsbridge, 
 and found Lord Cranmore at the sur- 
 geon's door, waiting to hand her out of 
 the carriage. 
 
 Favourable symptoms had continued 
 to increase j the nurse reported that 
 after having cried unceasingly for some 
 hours, Patty had fallen asleep ; and when 
 she awoke, appeared to be conversing 
 with [some one she conceived to be at 
 her bed-side ; but in such a way as could 
 not easily be understood, only she seemed 
 as if listening to receive answers : since 
 which she had been extremely composed, 
 had arisen and dressed herself, but de- 
 clined leaving her bed-room. She had ex- 
 
302 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 pressed a wish to have some plain work 
 given her, which had been indulged. 
 She had voluntarily taken some break- 
 fast, and sat close to her needle ever 
 since; did not speak, however, or seem to 
 take notice of any of the family. 
 
 Emily desired to go to her alone. 
 
 As she entered, the poor girl raised 
 her eyes, and fixed them upon her face, 
 with an expression of pleasure. Emily 
 was struck with something of a resem- 
 blance in her to Agatha Arundel, and 
 felt an increase of interest from the 
 circumstance. 
 
 <* I am glad to find you at work, 
 Patty," she began. 
 
 " Why, yes : — because now it's aU 
 settled, and that I am to stay here -, I 
 must do something for my board, for I've 
 no money, you know." 
 
 ** And who has settled it all for you, 
 Patty?" 
 
 <* My mother and the angel." 
 
 ** Where did you see them ?" 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. SOS 
 
 " O! here, — as soon as I awoke this 
 morning. And do you know, when you 
 opened the door, 1 thought they were 
 coming back again, you look so very h*ke 
 him.** Again fixing her eyes with a 
 pleased expression upon Emily*s coun- 
 tenance, who, more gratified by the 
 prospect this idea offered of gaining upon 
 her confidence, than by the unintentional 
 compliment to her beauty, answered in 
 her kindest tone, ** You are certainly so 
 far right in the likeness, that I come, 
 like him, to do you good if I can.'* 
 
 " Thank you,'* was all the answer : 
 and she resumed her work in silence. 
 
 After a considerable pause, Emily 
 continued, ** Patty is a pretty name, I 
 think." 
 
 «' I used to think so when he spoke it; 
 but I wish I could change it now." And 
 she gave a heavy sigh. 
 
 " Have you no other?" 
 
 " Yes! yes ! but, you know, I mustn*t 
 tell it.** 
 
304 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 " Why not ? to a friend !" 
 
 " Why, because of my poor mother, 
 you know." 
 
 " Would she be angry ?^' 
 
 " O dear, no ; there's no anger in 
 Heaven ; she's there now : that's what 
 she and the angel came on purpose 
 to tell me ; and that I needn't mind 
 having burnt her in her bed," (poor 
 Emily shuddered,) ** because it had puri- 
 fied her from the sins that used to weigh 
 her down so sadly." 
 
 ** I can see no reason why you should 
 not answer my question ; I only want 
 to find out how to serve you." 
 
 <« Why, that's very good of you ! and 
 you look as if you meant me kindly. 
 But, dear, there's no trusting to looks, you 
 know : only think how George used to 
 look !" and she laid down her work and 
 crossed her arms with an air of deep 
 melancholy. 
 
 *' And was he not kind ?" 
 
 " Why, how can you ask such a ques- 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 305 
 
 tion ? Could any thing be worse than to 
 set about ensnaring me in that cruel way ! 
 but I was too deep for him, though poor 
 mother would never have found him out, 
 you see." She now became very thought- 
 ful, and it was long before she would 
 again attend to any thing. At length she 
 said, " I've been thinking that I had 
 better write, and give him some good 
 advice." 
 
 " You can't do better," replied Emily, 
 bringing her the writing materials. 
 
 ** O dear! but that would betray where 
 I am ; and, as soon as ever he finds that 
 out, I must be off again." 
 
 ** But you are with friends that will 
 take care to let nobody come near you 
 whom you do not wish to see." 
 
 <« Am I? O, then, that's all very 
 well." She now again took up her work, 
 and remained silent. 
 
 Emily put the ink-stand towards her ; 
 but she took no notice. At length, giving 
 lip the hope of obtaining any thing 
 
306 DOMESTIC SCENES, 
 
 iarther by her stay, she rose to leave 
 her. 
 
 ** Patty looked up with extreme quick- 
 ness, exclaiming, " O ! you are not going 
 to leave me, are you ? I thought you 
 were my good angel." 
 
 " I will stay, if you will tell me what 1 
 can do for you ; but if you are afraid to 
 trust me, I may as well go." 
 
 ** O ! no indeed ! I will trust you with 
 every thing in the world." She held her 
 hands before her eyes for some minutes, 
 as if trying to collect her ideas ; then, 
 bursting into a passion of tears, she 
 exclaimed, ** O dear ! what shall I do ? 
 I'm afraid my poor head isn't right, for 
 I can't remember any thing in the 
 world !" And she continued to weep as 
 if her heart would break. 
 
 The door of the room had been left 
 ajar for the surgeon to be within hearing; 
 he now made a sign to Emily to come 
 away ; " I will see you again to-morrow," 
 she said, as she was going, ** and, by 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 307 
 
 that time, you will have recollected what 
 you wish me to know." 
 
 *« But will you, indeed, come back to- 
 morrow ?" 
 
 « I will, indeed." 
 
 " Tell me your name then." 
 
 ** Emily Villars." 
 
 *« Emily Villars, Emily Villars," — she 
 went on repeating to herself, in the midst 
 of her sobs and tears, as long as they 
 were within hearing. 
 
 The surgeon considered her as in a more 
 promising state than he had yet done. 
 Her consciousness of the alienation, 
 was a favourable symptom, and subse- 
 quent quietness might confirm it; he had 
 therefore beckoned Miss Villars away, he 
 said, lest any unintentional allusion in 
 the conversation might have again touched 
 upon the fatal spring of her malady. 
 
 Emily asked whether she might not 
 return the following day ? and was told it 
 must depend upon circumstances, which 
 Lord Cranmore undertook to ascertain at 
 
308 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 an early hour in the morning ; and his 
 report was to determine the farther pro- 
 ceedings. 
 
 The report of the following morning 
 was satisfactory. She had been rational 
 at intervals during the remainder of the 
 day ; passed a quiet night, and awoke 
 with a perfect recollection of Emily's 
 promise, and extreme impatience for its 
 fulfilment. She had made no inquiries 
 where she was, nor would give any other 
 answer to the questions put to her, but 
 that < she should tell Emily Villars.' She 
 still refused to quit her room. 
 
 When Emily again appeared, she 
 seemed struck with awe on beholding 
 her ; as if she were then first aware of the 
 difference in their conditions. She arose, 
 laid by her work, fixed her eyes steadily 
 upon her as she curtsied, but remained 
 silent. 
 
 *' You see, I have kept my word," 
 Emily began ; « do you not recollect 
 Emilv Villars?" 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 309 
 
 " O dear, Ma'am ! — but you are a lady; 
 what right have I to trouble you with 
 my distresses ?" and she wept. 
 
 '' I told you truly that you should find 
 rne your friend ; never mind, therefore, 
 whether I be a lady or not ; tell me how 
 I can serve you, and you shall find I 
 will." 
 
 " Why, Ma'am, if you will please to 
 give me work — and not let any body 
 know where I am." 
 
 *' You may rely upon being supplied 
 with work, and your abode shall not be 
 betrayed to any one you wish it to be 
 kept from.'* 
 
 Emily stopped, hoping she would name 
 whom she dreaded ; but Patty remained 
 silent, and seemed lost in thought ; after 
 a considerable pause, she at length said, 
 *' I can't imagine how I came here!" 
 
 «' You were brought here by a friend, 
 who is as ready to serve you as I am." 
 
 Again she sunk into a deep reverie of 
 some continuance, and then, with a be- 
 
310 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 wildered air, she fell a-crying, and said, 
 " O Ma'am ! I'm afraid, I have done 
 something very wrong 1" 
 
 «* What makes you think so ?" 
 
 ** Because, when I saw my poor mother 
 burnt, just after I had found out George's 
 treachery, I know I thought I must go 
 distracted ; but I don't know what I did 
 afterwards, nor how I could get here." 
 
 " Well ! never mind how you got here, 
 since you have been taken good care of; 
 we'll talk of that some other time : tell 
 me, now, whether there wasn't a lady in 
 your neighbourhood that was very good 
 to you, and that will wonder what's be- 
 come of you?" 
 
 " O yes. Ma'am ! Lady Sarah was al- 
 ways very good to me indeed ; but then 
 it would not be safe to tell her where I 
 am, because of Mrs. Hickson." 
 
 " Did Mrs. Hickson bear you any ill- 
 wQl?" 
 
 ** No ; but she's so foolishly fond of 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 311 
 
 George Fentham" — she stopped, and 
 coloured up to her eyes. 
 
 ** He is her relation, is he ?'* 
 
 " Her nephew, Ma'am ; but little 
 
 could she have suspected '* again 
 
 she stopped in extreme confusion. 
 
 Fearful that the agitation might pro- 
 duce wildness, Emily wished to lead her 
 thoughts back to Lady Sarah, and asked, 
 whether she was not an uncommonly 
 good woman ? 
 
 *« O dear. Ma'am, to be sure ! Lady 
 Sarah Maxwell's goodness spreads far 
 and wide ; nobody ever heard of her, 
 I believe, but might see cause to bless 
 the day." 
 
 Most agreeably did the name strike on 
 Emily's ear : *' Where is her house in 
 London ?" she inquired. 
 
 *< In Wimpole-street, Ma'am. But, 
 dear lady !" imploringly, " don't let her 
 know if I have done any thing very 
 wrong J for, indeed, I must have been 
 
31^ DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 out of my mind, after all the trouble she 
 took to teach me what was right ; but, 
 in truth, I did not set fire to my mother's 
 bed on purpose, only, when I found out 
 George to be so bad, I did'nt know what 
 I did ; so, perhaps, I might, and it don't 
 all signify now, you know, since she has 
 told me how happy she is in heaven." 
 
 Poor Patty again relapsed into inco- 
 herency ; Emily, however, was satisfied 
 she had obtained enough to enable her 
 to be of essential service; and deter- 
 mined to go straight to Wimpole-street 
 to impart what had happened, and learn 
 what was to be done ; and she left the 
 surgeon's, unperceived by the unhappy 
 girl. 
 
 Emily ordered the carriage to Lady 
 Sarah Maxwell's ; and, upon sending up 
 her message, was immediately admitted. 
 
 It appeared, that the cottage inhabited 
 by Patty and her mother had been burnt 
 down ; but there was no reason to sup- 
 pose any lives had been lost; although 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 313 
 
 neither mother nor daughter had since 
 been heard ot\ they had both been seen 
 during the fire. Lady Sarah described 
 Patty as an interesting innocent girl, 
 very affectionately devoted to a poor 
 broken-hearted mother, who had met 
 with some cruel usage in early life, which 
 she had never got over ; her name wajs 
 Benson : no symptoms of insanity had 
 ever been manifested in Patty ; of George 
 Fentham's attachment to her, Lady Sarah 
 knew nothing ; he was her housekeeper's 
 nephew, and she believed rather a pro- 
 fligate young man ; she would make par- 
 ticular inquiry respecting him ; for Patty 
 had always been a great favourite with 
 her ; and she had been much concerned 
 at her disappearance, and wondered how 
 the advertisement in the newspaper came 
 to have escaped her notice. Upon ex- 
 amination it proved that, by some inad- 
 vertency, it had not been inserted in her 
 paper. She proposed sending Mrs. Hick- 
 son to the poor girl directly | but to this 
 
 VOL. II. p 
 
314 DOMESTIC SCENEis. 
 
 Emily stated the objection ; and requested 
 a delay, till her mind should be more 
 composed. 
 
 Miss Maxwell came into the room, 
 Lady Sarah named Miss Villa rs to her, 
 *' Niece to Mrs.Valacort, I am quite sure!'* 
 said Miss Maxwell ; ** your confinement 
 to your bed, Ma'am, has prevented you 
 from hearing my uncle mention the plea- 
 sure he had in view for us, in making this 
 acquaintance ; for there is no mistaking 
 his description of Miss Villars." 
 
 Emily's cheek mantled with pleasure, 
 at having been favourably spoken of, by 
 the Colonel, of whom she thought highly ; 
 there was a prepossessing openness of 
 countenance in Miss Maxwell too, and a 
 frankness of manner, that instantly won 
 her confidence ; and she felt she had got 
 among kindred minds. 
 
 All that related to Patty was now fully 
 and duly canvassed; and Emily, extremely 
 delighted, to find the interest she had 
 felt so justified ; irave way to her kind 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 315 
 
 feeling^ in their fullest extent ; and re- 
 turned to Stanhope-street with her head 
 full of plans, which, however, must await 
 the perfect restoration of their object, 
 before any of them could be even pro- 
 posed. 
 
 She found Lord Cranmore with Mrs. 
 Valacort anxious for the result of her 
 inquiry ; but her aunt was exceedingly 
 discomposed at her having gone alone, 
 to a person with whom she was unac- 
 quainted. Emily had conceived that the 
 errand upon which she went, would have 
 been a sufficient plea for intruding any 
 where. Mrs. Valacort dwelt upon the 
 strange appearance it must have to Lady 
 Sarah Maxwell, that she should not have 
 gone to introduce her niece. 
 
 " It could only impress her with com- 
 passion for my ignorance of the ways 
 of this great world : she looked to me 
 like benevolence personified ! as if she 
 couldn't put an unfavourable construc- 
 tion on the actions of any human being, 
 p 2 
 
^316 DOMESTIC SCENES, 
 
 1 think, I never saw two more charming 
 people in my life than Lady Sarah and 
 Miss Maxwell !" 
 
 «< Aye, exactly what I anticipated ! 
 -Now shall I have you drawn headlong 
 into blue-stockingism 1'* 
 
 " Indeed, if these be specimens, I shall 
 not be very desirous to keep clear of the 
 prognostic !" 
 
 ** No! — specimens 1 no such thing; 
 these are actually decoy-ducks 1 be as- 
 sured the generality of them are made 
 up of pedantry and affectation." 
 
 Emily now made her report of Patty, 
 which highly gratified Lord Cranmore ; 
 but Mrs. Valacort had scarce patience 
 to hear it to an end ; so provoked was 
 she, at all the precious time this business 
 had taken up ; the necessary consequence 
 of which must be the curtailing one half 
 of the things that ought to have been 
 done; or it would be impossible to get to 
 Covent Garden by the middle of the 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 317 
 
 second act, which was the interesting 
 moment. 
 
 ** I wonder at the practicability of 
 ever getting there at all," Emily ob- 
 served, " according to the general ar- 
 rangement of hours !*' 
 
 *' Nothing so easy," Mrs. Valacort re- 
 plied : " it is but ordering dinner an> 
 hour later than usual, not staying iho, 
 farce, and delaying the toilet for th^ 
 evening engagements till after coffee." 
 
 Lord Cranmore was appointed to meet 
 them in the box. Lord Belmont had 
 called, Mrs. Valacort afterwards told 
 her niece, " making a pretence of want- 
 ing some parliamentary information from 
 Lionel, to fish out the routine of our 
 evening engagements ; but I foiled him.'* 
 
 There was one sentence which she 
 had overheard him utter at the Duchess 
 of Castlehaven's, which had occasionally 
 recurred to the thoughts of Emily : ** Her 
 friendship," he had said, *« might have 
 p 3 
 
318 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 had a salutary influence upon Lady Sa- 
 bina, and, by that means, have reconciled 
 him to* his fate." Were it, indeed, pos- 
 sible this could be his object, it might 
 deserve consideration. 
 
 She stated her doubt to her aunt ; who, 
 upon this occasion, was better qualified 
 than the guileless Emily to form a just 
 opinion ; and found very little difficulty 
 in satisfying her, it was merely thrown 
 out as a snare, and intended to be heard 
 by her, though addressed to Colonel 
 Maxwell. 
 
rvOMESTIC SCENES. 319 
 
 CHAP. XVI. 
 
 IHE business of the evening was man- 
 aged without interruption or difficulty > 
 and Emily's looks and spirits being fully 
 restored, she appeared so very lovely, 
 that her aunt set forth to her assemblies 
 in delightful expectation of the effect 
 she would produce ; nor was her expect- 
 ation now balked. The general disap- 
 pointment in Emily's appearance at the 
 Duchess of Castlehaven's had since 
 caused her to be as much cried down 
 as she had before been cried up ; but 
 on this night she found her true level ; 
 and obtained all the admiration she was 
 justly entitled to excite. The open ex- 
 pression of it, however, was so new to 
 her as to prove very distressing ; and 
 p 4 
 
320 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 greatly did she rejoice when she finally 
 made her escape from it. 
 
 On the following morning she re- 
 turned to Knightsbridge ; and a sense 
 of disappointment stole over her mind 
 upon alighting at the surgeon's, from the 
 absence of Lord Cranmore, who had, 
 hitherto, always been awaiting her ar- 
 rival there j it soon gave way to very 
 different feelings, however, when the 
 surgeon's wife, a plain, well-meaning, 
 w'orthy woman, came forward to inform 
 her of His Lordship's goodness. He had 
 put a fifty-pound note into her hand for 
 Patty's use 5 adding, at the same time, 
 that now she had protection so much 
 more suitable than that of a single man, 
 he should content himself with hearing 
 occasionally from Mrs. Dunbar how she 
 went on. 
 
 The delicate attention to propriety 
 which every new occasion brought to 
 light, gained upon Emily's esteem faster 
 than she was herself at all aware of. 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. <|f 1 
 
 " His delicacy equals his hurnanity," 
 she replied. 
 
 *' O dear, Ma'am, if you knew all the 
 instances Mr. Dunbar could give you of 
 that, you would think as we do, that his 
 equal is not to be met with far or near." 
 
 Poor Patty seemed more collected 
 than she had yet been, but her spirits 
 were proportionally sunk : she deplored 
 the death of her mother, whom she be- 
 lieved to have been burnt, but could 
 give no distinct account of how the fire 
 had occurred, "because of the state of dis- 
 traction," she said, " into which George's 
 ill-usage — or rather her discovery of his 
 bad designs, had thrown her." 
 
 There was no venturing as yet to un- 
 deceive her respecting her mother, whose 
 fate, at any rate, was also uncertain ; 
 and the surgeon had repeated his cautioa 
 to avoid as much as possible agitating 
 subjects ; so Emily only endeavoured to 
 soothe, by turning her mind to religious 
 consolations j and assuring her she had 
 p 6 
 
322 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 fallen into the hands of excellent people, 
 who would show their good-will in every 
 way she could wish : she expressed her 
 gratitude, accompanied with strong eja- 
 culations that she might be saved from 
 ever seeing or hearing of George Fen- 
 tham more ! 
 
 She entered into no details of his mis- 
 conduct, however, nor was it desirable 
 to let her pursue the subject. Before 
 leaving her, Emily ventured to name 
 Miss Maxwell. " Miss Maxwell was all 
 goodness ; but she would tell Mrs. Hick- 
 son — " and she now became somewhat 
 incoherent, which made it seem advisable 
 that Miss Maxwell's visit should yet be 
 deferred. 
 
 Part of the business allotted for this 
 morning was, the visiting the exhibition 
 of water-colour drawings, in Brook-street; 
 and here Lord Cranmore was found. 
 Emily spoke her sense of his conduct 
 respecting Patty, with a warmth that 
 first conveyed to his heart the delightful 
 15 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 323 
 
 conviction of having awakened her in- 
 terest for him. A glow of animation 
 overspread his coufitenance as his intel- 
 ligent eyes rivetted themselves upon her 
 face, with an expression of such extreme 
 tenderness, that hers were fain to seek 
 the ground : blushing to an almiost pain- 
 ful degree, she endeavoured to divert his 
 attention, by calling it to a beautiful 
 landscape before which they happened 
 to be standing. Lord Cranmore*s name 
 upon it showed him to be the purchaser: 
 she made the observation. . ** There are 
 finer performances in the collection," 
 he said ; ^' but this had an irresistible 
 attraction for me ; can you guess it ?" 
 
 Emily recognised a resemblance in the 
 fore-ground to one of her Devonshire 
 sketches, and, recovering a little self- 
 possession, she answered, " It is very 
 flattering to my sketch, that you thought 
 it worth remembering.'* 
 
 *« The difficulty would be ever to 
 
 forget " 
 
 p 6 
 
SS4 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 The approach of others, checked the 
 conversation ; but a sort of understanding 
 was taking place between them that did 
 not require the assistance of words. 
 
 Mrs. Valacort, very well satisfied with 
 the appearance of things, had loitered 
 away as much time as she could contrive 
 to bestow upon what she cared so little 
 about ; when it luckily occurred to her, 
 that a stroll in Kensington Gardens 
 might be well-timed ; nor was she in- 
 clined to make the smallest objection to 
 Lord Cranmore's proposal of going in at 
 the Bayswater gate, and confining them- 
 selves to the more rural and unfrequented 
 walks. 
 
 As they were alighting, Colonel Max- 
 well came up, having, at Lady Sarah's 
 desire, taken his ride round by Knights- 
 bridge to inquire after Patty Benson. 
 Mrs. Valacort invited him to join them, 
 took possession of his arm, and kept him 
 in full conversation during their walk. 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 825 
 
 The nightingale was pouring forth his 
 richest melody: spring smiled in her 
 freshest loveliness: all nature seemed to 
 harmonise with the exquisite sensations 
 hope had now called up in the breast of 
 Lord Cranmore. Many an apt allusion, 
 and many an impassioned vow, found its 
 way through the (not very reluctant) ear 
 of Emily, to a heart every way formed to 
 appreciate the sterling worth that here 
 assailed it. Nor let that heart be 
 censured, for over-readiness in admitting 
 tender impressions : be it recollected, how 
 the kind affections in which it abounded, 
 had been thrown back upon it, by the 
 unworthiness of the object that had first 
 obtained them ; and how naturally they 
 must revert to one, w^ho, in every thought 
 and action, offered a contrast so imme- 
 diate, and so striking. Scarcely had a day 
 passed since her acquaintance with Lord 
 Cranmore, w^hich had not afforded some 
 occasion of raising him in her esteem j 
 independently of that witchery, which so 
 
3^6 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 often stands in lieu of all other merit ; the 
 perfect devotion of true love, that shone 
 forth in his every look and motion. 
 
 If these considerations prove insuffi- 
 cient to acquit Emily, to those rigorists 
 in Cupid's code, who deem it profanation 
 to admit more than one genuine passion 
 in the same breast, I know not what 
 farther to say in her behalf j for that she 
 was as truly attached to Charles Belmont 
 when she so magnanimously relinqui.shed 
 him, as she is now in danger of being, to 
 her new lover, is a positive fact; though 
 it may be pleaded, in mitigation of censure, 
 that at this period, her feelings were by 
 no means as clear to herself, as to her 
 biographer. 
 
 The morning ended as usual in a course 
 of visits. As they were driving away 
 from one of them where they had been 
 let in J Emily observed, *« What admirable 
 command of countenance you have, dear 
 aunt! I'm sure, I must have betrayed my 
 surprise." 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 3^7 
 
 «* At what ?" 
 
 *' At that curious transaction about 
 the Opera tickets." 
 
 ** I didn't take notice of it." 
 
 " Did you not see some, lying on the 
 table ?" 
 
 " Yes. What then?" 
 
 " Did you not hear the lady who 
 came in, express her wish for a box to- 
 night.'* 
 
 *' I think I did." 
 
 ** And didn't you hear the answer that 
 was made ?" 
 
 '' No. What was it ?" 
 
 " « These are our box tickets, which 
 neither my colleague nor I shall use to- 
 night ; I am just going to send them to 
 Hookham's: if you drive straight there, 
 you may secure them and the box. 
 We don't suffer him to charge more than 
 the fair subscription price for ours.' Good 
 heavens ! you don't look astonished, now! 
 — at women of fashion selling their Opera 
 tickets 1" 
 
823 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 Mrs. Valacourtf ell a laugliing : " What, 
 you think it desperately mean, Emily?*' 
 
 '* I protest, I felt myself colour with 
 shame for her, — and so, I thought, did the 
 lady, who probably expected an offer of 
 the loan of the tickets, when she began 
 her speech." 
 
 " No; the lady knew better, I promise 
 you. Why, child, it's what every body 
 does, and it would be absurd to make a 
 scruple of it." 
 
 «« Then, I must say, I glory in observ- 
 ing that my dear aunt does not allow 
 herself to do things, that she is willing to 
 excuse in others. You have given your 
 box for Saturday." 
 
 « I have not the least ambition of 
 being thought better than my neighbours. 
 " Jlfaut hurler avec les Loups,' that's my 
 maxim; and my motive for giving my 
 box will lose all its merit in your romantic 
 eyes, my dear, when I tell you, that its 
 my mode of keeping some vulgar distant 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 3^9 
 
 relations in good-humour, for not being 
 invited to my parties/' 
 
 Emily looked as she felt, disappointed 
 by the explanation. " And, after all," 
 continued her aunt, " what is there more 
 in selling your Opera tickets, than in 
 opening your house to a subscription 
 concert? from which you derive the 
 advantage of amusing your friends at 
 another person's expense : you might as 
 w^ell call that letting out your house by 
 the night!" 
 
 " And not be very wide off the mark," 
 thought Emily j but she was silent, per- 
 ceiving, in her aunt's eagerness of vin- 
 dication, that she w^ould be hurt at her 
 dissent. 
 
 Mrs. Valacort being of opinion, that 
 her niece must have had quite enough of 
 the Opera, having once sat it out, from 
 beginning to end, now settled her even- 
 ing plans according to their accustomed 
 routine ; which took in the last half act ; 
 and the best part of the ballet. She 
 
530 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 was willing, however, for once, to stay it 
 «7/out; to show Emily the humours of the 
 *« crush-room,'* as Miss E has so hap- 
 pily named it. Having apprised Colonel 
 Maxwell of this intention in the morning, 
 he determined to attend upon them ; to 
 guard the timid little rustic from what 
 she might there have to encounter. 
 
 Nothing, however, beyond the usual 
 shoving and elbowing occurred ; except 
 a more than common quarrel among the 
 coachmen in the street ; in consequence 
 of which no one got away for more than 
 an hour. The affray ended by the loss 
 of a wheel to one carriage ; by another 
 having its panrtel smashed ; and by the 
 coachman who had begun the broil (in 
 cutting across the line) having forced 
 on his horses with such violence, that he 
 could not save one of them from spiking 
 itself upon the iron rails ; by which 
 means it was all but killed. This last 
 disaster being imparted, with some ap- 
 pearance of concern, by a gentleman 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. SSI 
 
 who had been spectator of the mischief, 
 to the lady who owned the equipage ; she, 
 with admirable calmness, answered, '''Tis 
 of very little consequence, they are only 
 jobs !" . 
 
 Emily, who was within hearing, and 
 had shuddered at the account, literally 
 started with surprise at this answer. 
 
 " You are not aware,'' Colonel Max- 
 well observed, '* what a school of phi- 
 losophy the world is." 
 
 " I desire. Maxwell, you will be 
 sparing of your sarcasms," said Mrs. 
 Valacort, as he put them into their car- 
 riage : '* she is but too well inclined to 
 reprobate manners that, after all, must be 
 given way to ; for, of all things, I should 
 hate to see her affect singularity." 
 
 " She will never affect any thing, if I 
 read her right ;" he replied ; *' but she 
 has bewitched Lady Sarah and Marianne 
 in her short visit ; so you must allow 
 me to take means of following up 
 the acquaintance, by bringing my niece 
 to your breakfast-ta^le to-morrow," 
 
38^ DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 Miss Maxwell expected afterwards to 
 have accompanied Emily to Knights- 
 bridge ; but the opinion of the surgeon 
 being stated, that plan was delayed : a 
 very earnest petition was then preferred, 
 for the pleasure of Mrs. Valacort and Miss 
 Villars's company to a small party, Lady 
 Sarah had collected for the evening; 
 and Mrs. Valacort, too well-bred to be- 
 tray the reluctance she felt; gave way, 
 with a good grace, to Emily's eager so- 
 licitude to accept the invitation. She 
 did not, however, fail, as soon as they 
 were alone, to caution her against ac- 
 cepting other invitations which this 
 might lead to, amongst ' so quizzical and 
 pedantic a set.' 
 
 Emily's pleasure equalled her surprise, 
 at the contrast between this reprobated 
 society, and that to which she had hitherto 
 been introduced. They drove up to the 
 door without risk of neck or limb, and 
 found elbow-room and good sense with- 
 in 'y titled and untitled people, whose 
 names were familiar to her ear, and ex- 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 333 
 
 cited her curiosity both to see and hear 
 them ; interesting, agreeable convers- 
 ation substituted for the eternal repe- 
 tition of, " Are you going to Mrs. this?'* 
 — " Have you been at Lady t'other?" — 
 " Dreadful getting up!*' — *« Expected 
 a pole through the pannel every mo- 
 ment! — and, nobody here, after all!'* 
 These, with the various comments upon 
 dress and beauty, that naturally follow, 
 had constituted the whole amusement as 
 far as had appeared in any of the assem- 
 blies they had yet frequented ; and very 
 warm was the defence Emily made, of the 
 party she had so greatly enjoyed, when 
 her aunt now endeavoured to attach 
 ridicule to it ; and very earnest was her 
 entreaty to be permitted to frequent, as 
 occasion might offer, society so much 
 more suited to her home-bred taste. 
 
 " Aye ! this was just the provoking 
 result Mrs. Valacort had foreseen ; but 
 she could assure her she had seen by 
 much the best of them at Lady Sarah's." 
 
334 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 CHAP. XVII. 
 
 The preparations for seeing masks had 
 obliged Mrs. Valacort to give up her 
 bed-cliamber, to complete the suite of 
 apartments j in consequence of which, 
 she slept upon the second floor, and the 
 staircase to it, was a continuation of the 
 backstair. 
 
 As she was going down to breakfast, 
 she had stopped to give some farther 
 orders to the new housekeeper, who was 
 attending her; and, in looking back to 
 her, she missed a step — and only saved 
 herself from coming down headlong by 
 catching hold of the baluster; by which 
 means she gave herself a twist, that 
 sprained her ancle, and broke her right 
 arm. 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 336 
 
 Here was a most unlooked-for check 
 to all pleasurable proceedings. Not im- 
 mediately conscious, however, that the 
 bone was broken, Mrs. Valacort pro- 
 posed putting the arm in a sling, and 
 lying upon a sofa with the sprained ancle; 
 in preference to putting off the expected 
 company, " for which there was so little 
 time ; and the world would be so dis- 
 appointed — and the amusement would 
 charm away the sense of pain.*' 
 
 Mr. Valacort happened, unluckily, to 
 be out of the way. Emily, however 
 shocked, at this tenaciousness of amuse- 
 ment, could make no head against it by 
 herself: but she had sent off for a very 
 
 able auxiliary in the surgeon. A 
 
 C pronounced it to be a fracture, 
 
 ordered her immediately to bed ; and, 
 whilst he was attending to all the various 
 exigences of the case, Mr. Valacort came 
 in; and received strict injunctions to 
 keep the patient perfectly quiet, as the 
 most likely means of averting the vio- 
 lence of the fever which, he apprehended. 
 
336 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 pain would soon bring on. Most reluc- 
 tantly did Mrs. Valacort give up the 
 point of the masks being admitted, with- 
 out making her accident known; and 
 " any very delightful ones might be 
 introduced to her bed-side," she said ; 
 but their being let in, at all, was so 
 peremptorily over-ruled, she was at length 
 obliged to submit. And, indeed, pretty 
 severe pain soon came in aid of the 
 surgeon's authority. Emily anticipated 
 a miserably protracted recovery with so 
 refractory a patient. 
 
 The fever ran quite as high as had 
 been foreseen ; and Emily was unremit- 
 ting in her attendance. 
 
 As she was one day sitting by the bed- 
 side, in anxious hope, of the invalid 
 awakening refreshed from a doze she had 
 fallen into ; a letter was put into her 
 and. It was from aunt Katty. 
 
 As it has already appeared that she 
 valued herself upon her ' knack in letter- 
 writing,' it will not be doubted that she 
 began in the proper style of an apolo- 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 33? 
 
 getical exordium, followed by all the 
 * hope' and * trust' respecting Mrs. Va- 
 lacort's recovery, that the case naturally 
 called for ; all of which was duly orna- 
 mented with a redundancy of capital 
 letters, dashes, and flourishes that might 
 have emulated the lacs d* amour of Mad. 
 de Sevigne's Princesse de Tarente. The 
 first page being thus filled, xery much to 
 her satisfaction, she proceeded to say: — 
 *< Things go on with us here pretty 
 much in the usual way ; though I must 
 confess that, what with one thing or an- 
 other, we are all a good deal out of sorts. 
 My poor brother being confined to his 
 bed with the gout in his feet and knees -, 
 but when I see him getting low, 1 exhort 
 him to be cheerful, and set him the ex- 
 ample ; for, as I tell him, let what will 
 betide mCy he should never find me like 
 that Patience in the play, you know, 
 < sitting moping in green and yellow on 
 the monument :' so that made him laugh 
 
 and say, in his funny way, « The D ], 
 
 yoL. ir. Q 
 
33S DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 Katt! that would be a ticklish seat for 
 your little round person, indeed !' and I 
 was very glad I had thought of any quo- 
 tation to amuse him ; and, I pray God, 
 the disorder may not be getting up into 
 his head and stomach : but, as I tell him, 
 if it should, it is the will of Heaven, and, 
 as such, we must submit to it. 
 
 " Talking of that puts me in mind 
 that we have no supply of flannel in our 
 school y and I saw an advertisement of a 
 cheap shop somewhere in Wapping ; so, 
 whenever Mrs. Valacort takes her airing 
 that way, I should be glad you would 
 make purchase of a piece. — AVell, then, 
 to go on with the family history, there's 
 niy poor sister can't attend upon her 
 Imsband herself, being laid up with rheu- 
 matism in her head, and, as I tell her, I 
 shouldn't wonder if it turned to a rheu- 
 matic fever •, and I have been persuading 
 her to take some of Steer's opodeldic, or 
 oi the Kai/e?^ putti/ thing, you know, that 
 comes from the Indies j and the worst of 
 14 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 339 
 
 ail is, that my niece Delniere, who would 
 be of so much use in all this distress, is 
 confined at home, on account of poor 
 dear little Aggy's shocking accident; — 
 so take it altogether, to be sure it's dis- 
 mal enough : but they wish it to be 
 kept from you, so pray take no notice in 
 your answer, my dear ; only I thought it 
 would be agreeable to you to know the 
 truth." 
 
 She then proceeds with all the gossip 
 of the village ; ends her letter in style, 
 by catching at a fortunate word, to give 
 a happy turn to the conclusion : after 
 which follows the postscript. 
 
 <' P. S. I can't find the newspaper for 
 the direction about the flannel, and I've 
 forgot the name of the shop and the 
 street, but suppose anybody thereabouts 
 will be able to tell you. And I hope 
 and trust, my dear niece, you won't 
 make yourself uneasy at what I havL- 
 been telling you about our distresses 
 here, because that might spoil your plea- 
 Q 2 
 
340 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 sure in London sadly, which I should be 
 very sorry for. And I forgot to mention 
 that my niece Delmere is in great dis- 
 tress besides, on account of Winny being 
 obliged to go home to her mother, be- 
 cause her sister is dead, and Aggy 
 takes on so shockingly at parting with 
 her." 
 
 Emily was thrown into a state of extreme 
 agitation by the contents of this letter : 
 her anxious wish to fly instantly to the 
 succour of the invalids at the Priory, wa.^ 
 combated by a keen sense of the cruelty 
 she should be guilty of to her aunt, who 
 seemed to rest solely on her, for every 
 comfort under her present sufferings. In 
 this dilemma her brother found her, 
 when he called to make his daily enquiry 
 after Mrs. Valacort. 
 
 Having read the letter with much, at- 
 tention, he was of opinion, that one-half 
 of the alarm might fairly be placed to 
 the account of aunt Katty's mode of 
 seeing and describing ; and having called 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 341 
 
 to his sister's recollection various in- 
 stances of the inaccuracy of her state- 
 ments, without being able entirely to 
 tranquillise her, he kindly offered to set 
 out himself immediately ; with the pro- 
 mise of making a faithful report, by 
 which she might be guided in determin- 
 ing upon the most urgent claims to her 
 care. This she thankfully accepted ; 
 and soon succeeded in recovering suffi- 
 cient apparent composure, to conceal the 
 whole matter from her aunt, till she 
 should have more correct information. 
 
 As Henry was hurrying from the door, 
 he was met by Sir Edward Arundel, to 
 whom he imparted his proposed journey, 
 and its cause. The unexplained accident, 
 which was stated to have befallen Agatha, 
 awakened so very lively an interest in 
 his hearer, that he declared, he could not 
 rest satisfied without ascertaining the 
 nature of it himself; and they accord- 
 ingly set out together. 
 
5i2 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 A very few hours brought them to the 
 Priory ; and their fears were considerably 
 alleviated by the very first object that 
 caught their eye, which was Agatha, 
 bounding along the lime-walk, with the 
 activity and playfulness of a young fawn, 
 and Katty waddling after her 5 who, the 
 moment she recognised them, exclaimed, 
 '* Merciful gracious! how surprising I — 
 What can have brought you so unex- 
 pectedly, Henry?" 
 
 " Your letter, my good aunt." 
 
 Nothing could equal the astonishment 
 of Katty, into whose cloudy brain, cause 
 and effect, had never yet found their way 
 in due order. 
 
 '' My letter !" she cried, <« why I for- 
 bid Emily to mention a word of it !" 
 
 " But it frightened poor Emily out of 
 all caution," he replied. 
 
 <« Why, then, I dare say she over- 
 looked the postscript j for in that I par- 
 ticularly charged her, not to let what 
 I had told her spoil her pleasure in 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 3i3 
 
 London: so now you see the upshot 
 will be my never telling her the truth 
 again." 
 
 The truth, however, it afterwards ap- 
 peared, was pretty much what Henry 
 conjectured, that no cause whatever for 
 alarm had existed. Mr. Villars's attack 
 of the gout was the slightest imaginable ; 
 Mrs. Villars's rheumatism in her head, 
 which was neither more nor less than 
 the /oo^/i-ach, was cured by the extrac- 
 tion of the tooth 5 and Agatha's shocking 
 accident was a sh'ghtly broken shin, 
 which had caused her aunt to keep her 
 quiet one day, by confinement to the 
 sofa. 
 
 During the dialogue between Katty 
 and her nephew, Agatha had flown to 
 Sir Edward, and was clinging round his 
 neck (for it should have been mentioned 
 that the gentlemen had alighted from 
 their carriage on first perceiving them,) 
 pouring all her fondness for aunt Del- 
 mere into his delighted ear; when she 
 Q 4 
 
344 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 herself came up, and expressed her plea- 
 sure on seeing them, indiscriminately to 
 both, with frank and cordial kindness.' 
 
 A little less of such frank avowal, 
 would have been more congenial to Sir 
 Edward's own feelings. Still, however, 
 he was sensible that acknowledged friend- 
 ship, was a step gained ; but yet there 
 remained much to be done before he 
 could hope to ripen it into a softer sen- 
 timent, and his secret must continue to 
 be carefully concealed. 
 
 Lord Cranmore had met the travellers 
 just as they were stepping into their 
 chaise, and renewed the friendly offer of 
 his cottage for any time it might suit Sir 
 Edward's convenience to occupy it j and 
 Sir Edward was always conscious of a 
 something so remarkably salubrious in 
 the air of the Hampshire downs, he told 
 Henry, that he felt strongly inclined to 
 remain ; and give his nerves a week's 
 respite from the smoky atmosphere and 
 hot rooms of London. 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 345 
 
 This proposal was strenuoiisly encou- 
 raged by his friends at the Priory, in 
 whom he had now excited a powerful 
 interest for himself. And Henry returned 
 to town without delay to quiet the 
 apprehensions of Emily, 
 
 Q 5 
 
SW DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 CHAP. XVIII. 
 
 Sir Edward's week was imperceptibly 
 verging to a fortnight 5 when, as he one 
 morning pensively trod his accustomed 
 path from Boxmount Cottage to the 
 Priory, ruminating upon some possible 
 plea, for still protracting his stay without 
 giving rise to suspicion of his true mo- 
 tive ', he was roused from his reverie by 
 a concourse of villagers, and considerable 
 bustle at the entrance of the coru-field 
 through which his road lav. 
 
 On inquiring into the occasion, he 
 \vas informed, that the stage, driving 
 furiously down the hill, had caught the 
 wheel of one of the machines in which 
 wild beasts are conveyed for exhibition 
 about the country j and upset it with a 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 347 
 
 violence that had thrown the driver from 
 his seat in front, caused the door to fly 
 open behind, and the cage containing 
 the lioness being also shattered by the 
 shock, the animal had got loose, and was 
 tearing about the field ; the danger much 
 increased by the height of the wheat, 
 which prevented ascertaining her track : 
 the people, in their fright, had collected 
 what weapons of offence and defence they 
 could lay hold of, and were in pursuit 
 of her. 
 
 V/hilst giving ear to this account, his 
 eye caught Sophia with a book in her 
 hand, unconscious of the alarm, ap- 
 proaching the stile from the lane into 
 the field on the opposite side. Darting 
 across with the velocity of lightning, he 
 called to her, to stop ! but not catching 
 liis meaning, she got over the stile, and 
 was moving towards him, when, thrown 
 wholly off his guard by terror, he fran- 
 ticly exclaimed, " O, my soul's idol !'* — 
 and reaching her at the same moment, 
 Q G 
 
348 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 he caught her up, and, with supernatural 
 strength, leaped with her in his arms 
 across the stile, and fortunately perceiv- 
 ing a break in the high fence by the 
 lane-side, he easily increased it, and put 
 her through it, bidding her " take refuge 
 in the barn ;" which he had no sooner said, 
 than he fell back against the outside of 
 the paling himself, nearly fainting with 
 the agitation and exertion, and unable to 
 utter a word of explanation. 
 
 Sophia almost stunned with the ra- 
 pidity of this extraordinary proceeding ; 
 and alarmed at the state in which she 
 saw him, made an attempt to return 
 over the paling to his assistance ; when 
 fright for her recalled his senses, so far 
 as to enable him to make an effort to 
 drive her back, with an agonized cry cf 
 ** My hearths only treasure, for pity's 
 sake remain !" and get over the paling 
 himself. 
 
 The inclosure they were now in joined 
 the farm-yard, and they sought security 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 349 
 
 in the barn ; where the farmer shortly 
 after brought word that the creature was 
 again in the custody of its keeper. The 
 man had soon recovered the effects of 
 his fall, and made his way to the scene 
 of confusion, when the animal no sooner 
 recognised him, than she came crouching 
 to his feet, and submitted without resist- 
 ance to be led back to her prison. 
 
 And here ended all fears for personal 
 safety ; but alarm of a different nature 
 had made its way to the bosom of Sophia. 
 Sir Edward had only been able to attend 
 her to the Priory, and thence hastened 
 home in a state of most pitiable nervous 
 debility; disordercil not only, by the agi- 
 tation he had undergone, but by the over- 
 whelming dread of having prematurely 
 betrayed his passion. 
 
 Nor were his fears ungrounded ; tiie 
 too tender epithets he had uttered, still 
 rung in Sophia's ear ; and brought to 
 her recollection various trifling incidents, 
 which at tlie time had passed unnoticed, 
 
350 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 but now recurred in <' confirmation 
 strong" of his cherishing sentiments so 
 inimical to his peace, that every feeling 
 of friendship and humanity combined, to 
 urge her immediate adoption of so de- 
 cided a line of conduct, as would effec- 
 tually check what, could only be pro- 
 ductive to him, of a renewal of former 
 misery. 
 
 The discovery w^as painful to her in 
 the extreme. In the full reliance on her 
 own unalterable faith, to the memory 
 of Colonel Delmere, she had given way 
 to sentiments of esteem and friendship 
 for Sir Edward, without fear of injuring 
 his tranquillity any more than her own 
 by the confidential intimacy they had 
 produced : a firm believer in the doc- 
 trine, that true love can be felt but once, 
 and knowing what he had suffered in 
 the cause, she had not considered this 
 species of intercourse with him, in the 
 same light in which she would have 
 viewed it with any other man 5 in short. 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 351 
 
 the peculiarity of their respective situ- 
 ations, had lulled her into security ; and 
 the numberless amiable traits of cha- 
 racter occasionally brought forward by 
 Agatha, had imperceptibly softened her 
 feelings towards him, far beyond her 
 own consciousness of their nature ; for 
 she rested her thoughts very much upon 
 the great importance he must ever be of, 
 to the future destiny of her little cliarge, 
 and had of late cultivated his good-will 
 with the most unsuspicious solicitude. 
 
 Now^, however, that she so plainly saw^ 
 how much he might have been deceiving 
 himself, there could be no hesitation as to 
 the manner in which she was called upon 
 to act; not, as in the case of Lord Leonard, 
 with repulsive reserve, but a frank and 
 friendly communication of her appre- 
 hensions, the very first opportunity that 
 offered. 
 
 Sir Edward was far too much disturbed, 
 to be able to join the society at the 
 Priory that day ; and a night of feverish 
 agitation ensued, which equally disqiia- 
 
3o2 DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 lified him for stirring abroad on the next ; 
 by these means he had full time for de- 
 liberation as to his farther proceedings ; 
 and he honourably determined to abide 
 fairly and unequivocally by the senti- 
 ments he had so involuntarily betrayed : 
 could he have maintained his silence, it 
 might have borne the interpretation of 
 diffidence, even to himself; but now it 
 became an act of duplicity unworthy of 
 his character, to attempt to do away the 
 impression his words must have excited. 
 He must now come boldly forward with 
 the avowal, and stand to the risk. 
 
 But with sucli a dread, however, of 
 the result did he finally present himself 
 before the sovereign arbitress of his fate, 
 that a month's illness would scarcely 
 have produced a greater alteration in his 
 looks. 
 
 He felt somewhat re-assured by tlie 
 friendly cordiality wuth which she ac- 
 knowledged his most effectual protection 
 against the danger that had threatened 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 353 
 
 her; and he stammered out his appre* 
 hensioii of having undesignedly betrayed 
 feeHngs that might offend her. 
 
 '' They grieved more than tiiey of- 
 fended/' she reph'ed. 
 
 " O reserve your grief for the day when 
 I may complain of sufferings ; but grant 
 me to devote my Hfe to the attempt of 
 gaining your favour." 
 
 <* You have gained so much favour, 
 Sir Edward, as would ensure your con- 
 tributing materially to the comfort of 
 my life, provided your wishes are con- 
 fined to the enjoyment of simple friend- 
 ship ; those I can frankly offer you, but 
 beyond those I shall never go,'* 
 
 ** I ask no more, till time shall have 
 convinced you *' 
 
 *• Time can bring no additional con- 
 viction with it," she interrupted ; " of 
 your merits I am fully aware ; if it were 
 possible I could think any man worthy 
 to replace Delmere, yoii would be that 
 man. I speak so frankly, that you may 
 
354f DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 give the more implicit credit to what 
 I shall with equal frankness add -, my 
 tie of fidelity to him reaches beyond 
 this life. He never knew another love 
 but me ;• he has repeatedly sworn it, and 
 if he lost me would vow eternal celibacy 
 for the remainder of his days : could 1 
 fail to reciprocate the vow ?'* 
 
 Full well did Sir Edward know the 
 fallacy of Delmere's assertion ; but the 
 sacredness even of past friendship sealed 
 his lips j his emotion, however, was very 
 apparent. 
 
 Sophia went on : *' From an engage- 
 ment such as this, I must cease to re- 
 spect myself, before I could ever wish to 
 be absolved ; the romance of my life 
 shall be, to preserve my faith to him pure 
 and unspotted as when I pledged it at 
 the altar, until I reach that blessed state 
 where our spirits may again be united in 
 joys ineffable for evermore/' 
 
 " Romance, indeed!" Sir Edward 
 thought j but he saw in the enthusiastic 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 355 
 
 turn of her mind, how much consolation 
 she derived from this airy structure of 
 her own raising. Incapable of seeking 
 to obtain any advantage at the expense 
 of her slightest gratification, he only re- 
 plied, << To the purity of your own mind 
 I shall trust for doing justice to mine ; 
 very undeserving should I be of the 
 candour so exclusively your own, with 
 which you now treat me, if I could 
 cherish a wish beyond the high honour 
 and inexpressible gratification of the sen- 
 timents you have condescended to avow. 
 Believe me, Mrs. Delmere, I am not the 
 slave of sense , to be received, acknow- 
 ledged as your chosen friend, to be 
 allowed to study your happiness or plea- 
 sure in every action of my life — will give 
 it a value so greatly beyond any thing 
 I could ever again have hoped to live 
 for, that I should never ask for more : 
 grant me but unlimited confidence, and 
 you will bestow happiness, exquisite and 
 pure as your own lovely form and mind !*' 
 
Sod DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 " To any other than yourself, Sir Ed- 
 ward, I should hesitate to utter the ob- 
 servation I am going to make, lest it 
 should be misconstrued ; but your mind 
 is not cast in the common mould, you 
 will not ascribe to female vanity what is 
 the result of real solicitude for your hap- 
 piness. Allow me to say, that your 
 expressions were not those of simple 
 friendship, the other morning.*' 
 
 ** I will not attempt to mislead you, 
 Mrs. Delmere, by disclaiming the feel- 
 ings that actuated me, in that alarming 
 moment 5 but give me credit for the 
 utmost sincerity, when I assert, that 
 whatever I then felt, you have now 
 changed its nature. I will not pretend 
 to deny the purpose with which I this 
 morning sought you, nor the pang I 
 experienced at the outset of this con- 
 versation ; but your subsequent frank 
 avowal of sentiments so congenial to 
 every nobler feeling of my soul, seems t6 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. S5^ 
 
 raise me to an emulation with your own 
 purity ; and trust me, you shall have no 
 cause to withdraw your confidence." 
 
 " Do not attribute it to doubt of your 
 sincerity, if I say, that so very sudden a 
 revulsion would require a confirmation 
 from time, to be safely relied on ; a tem- 
 porary absence might give it stability — " 
 
 <* Absence !*' interrupting her with a 
 look of dismay, " then you do not give 
 credit to the disinterestedness of my 
 feelings !" 
 
 ** Indeed, I give perfect credit to your 
 sincerity in asserting it j but a year or 
 two would " 
 
 " Good Heavens ! a year or two !" 
 turning still paler than when he had first 
 come into her apartment ; ** the very 
 thought is death !" 
 
 Sophia, hurt at the wretched ex- 
 pression of his countenance, and pro- 
 bably biassed, imperceptibly to herself, by 
 something beyond what she believed to be 
 her actuating motive, that of retaining hirrf 
 
35S DOMESTIC SCENES. 
 
 within reach of extending his protection 
 to Agatha as occasion might require, 
 gave way to his objections with a facility 
 her better judgment would have con- 
 demned, had it had fair play ; but when 
 has judgment fair play against the plau- 
 sibility of romantic deductions ? not cer- 
 tainly in such a headlong enthusiastic 
 disposition as that of Sophia : so she 
 finally agreed to his solicitation of being 
 admitted to the confidential intimacy of 
 friendship, with the freedom of a brother, 
 until he should forfeit his privilege by 
 the first symptom betraying a less dis- 
 interested feeling ; she was then without 
 hesitation to give him notice of his failure, 
 by recurring to the necessity of absence, 
 to which he would submit without a 
 murmur. 
 
 And the compact was sealed on the 
 hand she held out to him in friendship ; 
 but the kiss imprinted on it, had such a 
 mixture of respectful timidity in its fra- 
 ternal tenderness, as might have satisfied 
 
DOMESTIC SCENES. 359 
 
 ail impartial witness of the very different 
 character it bore, from what the parties 
 were aware of. 
 
 Sir Edward, raised and gratified beyond 
 expression, to find himself an object of 
 so much greater interest than he had 
 dared to hope, sincerely believed that he 
 had reached the summit of happiness ; 
 but, alas ! in love, as in ambition, 
 
 *' On wishes, wishes grow." 
 
 Leave we them, however, for the pre- 
 sent, in the full enjoyment of their de- 
 lusion : how seldom is happiness any 
 other ! and let us return to Emily's try- 
 ing task of attendance upon her unruly 
 patient. 
 
 END or VOL. IL 
 
 Printed by Strahan and Spotti3woodt% 
 Printers-Street. London. 
 
"uNJERSn?'0F.UIN0,S-UBBANA