LI b R,A RY OF THE UNIVLRSITY or ILLI NOIS v.l EXCITEMENT. _ :#/..;^//.7/^v .^ ir/ /^^/^/'y^-^-.i^^^4' EXCITEMENT; A TALE OF OUR OWN TIMES. IX TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON : ORGER AND MERYON, 174, FENCHURCH STREET. 1849, ^ NIAS, I'RIiNTER, 38, GUACECHUKCII STREET. 8£5 PREFACE. The interest in a Tale ever incurring danger of diminution by any allusion to the plot previous to perusal, this Preface is written simply to state, that the writer's ^ share of the profits is to be appropriated .^to the funds of a charitable institution, which is under the superintendence of a committee of ladies and gentlemen, and denominated " An Establishment for Gen- tlewomen during Temporary Illness." N Though the author of "Excitement" fears that the work may not have suffi- b VI PREFACE. cient merit to claim a large share of sup- port, the writer hopes it may nevertheless obtain a portion, since the purchasers con- tribute to a charity calculated to relieve a class of gentlewomen requiring assist- ance, from inability to provide entirely for themselves the advice and comforts neces- sary during illness. ERRATA TO VOL. I, Page 2, Une 7, for later read latter. - 75, - 12, for fomented read fermented. — 236, — 20, omit to. - 317, -20, for happiness read unhappiness. EXCITEMENT. A TALE OF OUR OWN TIMES. CHAPTER I. The young ! Oh ! what should wandering fancy bring. In life's first spring-time, but the thoughts of Spring ? Worlds without winter, blooming amaranth bowers, Garlands of brightness Avreathed from changeless flowers." The Dream. Hon. Mrs. Norton. On a brilliant day in June^ 1845, when that well-known resort of the rich and the prosperous, Hyde Park, was more than usually crowded with the gay equipages of the votaries of pleasure, a lady and a gentleman were amongst the number of the equestrians, who seemed not to derive the happiness which they evidently enjoyed, from the gaiety of the scene, but from some source quite independent of all outward objects. }i EXCITEMENT. The graceful form of the lady (for truly it might be called so), as she guided her ambling steed;, was a little inclined forward, perhaps to conceal her classicallj^-formed features from the gaze of the admiring crowd, or, perhaps, from that of her companion, though she occasionally glanced at the later with her dark lustrous eyes, which beamed, whilst she did so, with a sweet smile of contentment. The companion of the lady, who rode by her side, was, like her, strikingly handsome, though his brow, unlike hers, was sometimes a little contracted; his figure, however, was in exact proportion, his air manly and dignified, and there was likewise on his countenance an expression which would lead an observer of character, on regarding him, to pronounce that implicit faith and confidence might be placed in his honour and integrity. For some time the conversation between the lady and her companion was carried on in soft whispers, each apparently happy in the inter- change of their thoughts, arising probably from EXCITEMENT. 3 the circumstance of each being young and full of hope, and having many pleasures in life to look forward to. This state of unison of sentiment or purpose, whichever it might be, did not, however, continue long; for, on an observation from the ladj^, a slight cloud passed over the brow of the gentleman as he replied, " You surely do not shrink from being alone with me a short time ; for after what you have admitted, that feeling can only proceed from either a prudishness, which I think you are above, or from regret at having made me happy/^ Though this speech was uttered in an enquiring tone, yet as the lady did not immediately reply to it, and as her countenance now assumed an ex- pression of offended pride, the gentleman con- tinued — " If your desire to join your father does, how- ever, proceed from the last feeling, tell me so now^, I entreat you, and be not so cruel as to let me in- dulge in a hope which you mean ultimately to destroy/^ " As I am not the fickle creature you suppose B 2 4 EXCITEMENT. me to be/^ replied the lady in a low, sweet voice, though the expression of offended pride, alluded to, might still be perceived on her face, " having once given my word, and that with mature con- sideration, nothing but a desire on your part, or a prohibition from my father, shall ever make me retract it/^ " Forgive me, dear Constance, for being so hasty,^^ now earnestly exclaimed the gentleman, as he saw that his suspicions were unfounded; " I see I ought to have known you better, but being so haunted by the fear that the happiness I now enjoy will not last, it makes me, perhaps, too anxious to guard against any misconception of yom^ sentiments towards me." " I cannot think why you should experience that feeling," was the reply ; " for surely we may be permitted to indulge the hope of being able to pass our lives together, and that too in happiness, as nothing seems likely to prevent our so doing." '^ Few, perhaps none, pass through life without trials," answered the gentleman, '^ and why should we expect to escape from them, since, too, they are EXCITEMENT. 5 often sent for our good ; for myself, I feel I am so undeserving of all I hope for, or of the prospect held out to me, having so many faihngs — so many " " No, only one trifling fault,'^ interrupted the lady, as she now glanced at her companion with an arch smile. "And what, may I ask, is that failing, dear Constance ? " enquired the lady^s companion ten- derly, as he approached a little nearer to her side. " It is, that you will persist in expressing your political opinions before my father, and as they are always in opposition to his, it irritates him to hear you, and makes me sometimes fear for the consequences." " Would you have me, then, to renounce my own opinions, and adopt his cold and worldly max- ims ? " asked the gentleman now again, reproach- fully, " must I become like one of his own ten- ants, the creature of his will ? would you love me the more for being a passive instrument in his hands ? " b3 6 EXCITEMENT. " No — oh no/' replied the lovely horsewoman, energetically ; " I would not wish you to renounce your liberal sentiments for any thing which the world could offer you, much less for myself : but yet surely you might cease to argue against his opinions, without any compromise of principle, since remaining silent is all that is necessary/^ " But as silence means acquiescence, it is not only difficult, but also weak to retain it,^^ was the reply. " I am sorry you find it so," answered the lady, with a sigh, and then added, '^'^let us, however, cease to dispute on the subject, and now join my father, for I see he is riding with that designing Captain Frazer, whom I beheve you too know." Though this last observation was made enquir- ingly, the gentleman, however, gave no immediate answer, only looking round uneasily at a party which was behind him ; at last, however, thinking perhaps he ought to say something, he replied — " I know Captain Frazer, certainly, though but slightly, as I was in his company last night only for the first time." EXCITEMENT, 7 " Which circumstance has made you so cross this morning," interrupted the lady, ^^for his company would turn sweet thoughts into bitter." '^Then you think my feelings very bitter, Constance ? " replied the gentleman, once more, rather reproachfully. " At least they were so just now against my father." '' But never so to you, Constance, and never will be : however, I will try for your sake to be " What more the gentleman was going to say, however, the lady never heard, as he was in- terrupted in his reply by the crowd of carriages and horsemen becoming so great, as to prevent further conversation for the time. As soon, how- ever, as there was another cessation of noise and movement, the gentleman endeavoured to resume it, and had just succeeded in drawing up his horse again parallel to his companion's (which position he had, by the previous movement, lost), when suddenly a buzz of many voices arose in the air, murmuring anxious enquiries of " Where is she ? — which way has she gone ? — is that her ?" The 8 EXCITEMENT. gentlemen were now seen to raise their hats, the ladies to wave their handkerchiefs, as a handsome carriage, with an accompaniment of out-riders, drove rapidly past. " I wish her Majesty had remained quietly in Buckingham Palace to-day,^^ thought the gentle- man, as he saw his companion join the two eques- trians who had previously followed them ; " how- ever, I will explain every thing some other time," added he, to himself, as he also turned his horse to follow the party before him, who were now leaving the park. They left it, — and the magnificent equipages and the gay out-riders soon left it too, causing the whole scene to lose its former character : at eight o^ clock, a few straggling horsemen being all that remained of those who had assisted at it. Yes, the rich had departed to their splendid homes — had departed to enjoy the banquet and the ball ; few perhaps remembering, when absent from the scene, that the same park in which they had just been displaying their luxury and their wealth, had now become the refuge of the homeless and the wretched. EXCITEMENT. CHAPTEE 11. ' The field of freedom, faction, fame, and blood : Here a proud people's passions were exhaled, From the first hour of empire in the bud, To that when further worlds to conquer fail'd." Byron. Constance Devereux_, tlie lovely horsewoman of the park^ was the daughter of Sir Stephen Devereux, an old Yorkshire baronet, who was a man of such an irritable temperament and obsti- nate disposition that he never could brook any opposition to his will. Constance, however, en- deavoured by every means in her power to sooth her father when angry, which was not unfre- quently the case, and also to induce him to relax the severe measures which he frequently proposed 10 EXCITEMENT. exercising on those under his control; and, in- deed, on every one whom he considered himself entitled to command. Although Sir Stephen admitted the attentions of Edward Tremaine to his daughter, as yet there had been no positive consent given to his ad- dresses ; it was, however, understood by the latter, that they were not regarded as objectionable, which was the case, as Sir Stephen considered Edward Tremaine^s fortune and prospects as sufficiently established, to make him an accept- able suitor for the hand of his daughter. Constance Devereux, though possessing many good qualities, was, however, by no means a per- fect character; she was of this world, and was therefore but a woman ; and though a lovely, and high-principled woman, still she had many fail- ings. Not here, however, must we look for per- fection — not here, where the warm, fresh feelings of youth become early blunted by meeting with ingratitude where we expected thankfulness, and deception where we sought for truth. In de- scribing, therefore, Constance Devereux, we have to EXCITEMENT. 11 relate that lier naturally warm feelings had, young as she was, occasionally experienced that cold, deadened sensation, which at times takes possession of the bosoms of those who have found tliemselves deceived in their opinions of others, or who have had their kind actions mis- construed. Her father, too, had endeavoured to make her proud, and had partly succeeded in that attempt ; she had, however, resisted all his efforts to render her selfish also ; for though, occasionally, her ex- ertions for the good of others flagged, when dis- appointment followed her endeavours, still she never closed her heart long against the wants of the poor; nor, when their misfortunes were made known to her, did she ever refuse to in- tercede with her father in theii' favour. On the evening of the same day on which the ride in the park which we described took place, Edward Tremaine, an elderly gentleman, and two younger strangers, sat in the dining room of Sir Stephen Devereux^s house, conversing in an ani- mated manner with the Baronet and his daughter, 12 EXCITEMENT. on a subject wliicli appeared to interest some of the party deeply. Constance was, at tlie time we mention_, urging her father to assist one of his tenants, who, owing to a violent storm, had suffered some great losses : the hurricane having in its fury carried off the roof of his dwelling, and also caused much injury to some newly cut hay. " He is an idle, improvident man,^^ replied Sir Stephen, in answer to his daughter's pleadings ; " why did he not tell Danvers that his roof wanted repairing ; and ivhj did he not get his hay put into stack before the storm came on ? It would only be encouraging idleness to assist him.^^ "But we, also, by neglecting having the hall repaired, let the wind blow the old chimney down,^^ answered Constance; "and though to us that is only a trifling loss, whilst poor Shepherd loses every thing he possesses by his want of fore- sight, still, as his fault was no greater than ours, his prospects should not be destroyed, as a punishment for the same neglect which we our- selves committed.'^ EXCITEMENT. 13 " As women know nothing about sncli matters,, I do not wish to hear any of your observations on the subject/' repUed Sir Stephen, the tone of his voice betraying that he wished to cut the argu- ment short. "But, my dear sir/' mildly interposed the elderly gentleman, who was seated next to Sir Stephen, and who appeared full of benevolent thoughts, " in this case, Miss Devereux is right ; for want of foresight is hardly a good reason for refusing succour to those guilty of it, since im- providence is not a crime. Besides, it is misfortune arising from such errors as Shepherd has com- mitted which we must relieve, if we ever mean to be charitable ; for the wise and prudent seldom require aid.'' A gentleman seated on the other side of Sir Stephen, here began to yawn, evidently showing he was tired of the subject on which the rest of the party were conversing, they having discoursed on Shepherd's affairs for some time. " You would ruin me by your charities, if I always let you have your own way," said Sir 14 EXCITEMENT. Stephen, again addressing his daughter; "pray- how did that family tnrn out to whom you gave the money which I intended you to spend in the purchase of a new harp ? " " The money was of the greatest assistance to them, father, and they are now earning their bread honestly ; the harp would have been only an un- necessary luxury to m.e." " AVere your opinions to prevail, however, we should all become a set of barbarians,^^ answered the Baronet ; adding in a louder tone, as he ad- dressed a military man, seated at the other side of the table, " do you not think so, Captain Frazer ?^' " Without meaning to contradict Miss Devereux, I think we certainly should,^^ replied the yawning gentleman, who was the one addressed. "And making a harp employs as many poor people as the manufacture of any thing else," continued the Baronet. Here, the elderly gentleman again replied, say- ing, " But, if we supposed the existence of a little community of individuals, one half of whom (owing either to advanced age, or prolonged sick- EXCITEMENT. 15 ness) were unable to work, and that of the re- mainder, a moiety employed the others who could work, in furnishing them with all kinds of luxuries, whilst they left the poor miserable ones we first described without any of the necessaries of life ; would those be justified who thus acted?" " But we are not a small community like what you describe,'^ answered Sir Stephen, not perceiv- ing the general application of the argument. " StiU, what I have stated is equally appHcable to a large one," explained the Doctor ; " and not only applies itself to our own country in particular, but to the world in general." " I see my daughter has but too able a sup- porter in you. Dr. Bowman ; but what says my friend Spoletti to all this utilitarianism ?" '^ That if such opinions prevailed, I should have to go back to my own country again, and paint no more portraits for the English ? " " And a deuced good riddance that would be," muttered the Captain to Edward Tremaine, who, during this argument, had remained silent, being 16 EXCITEMENT. determined not to support Constance on this occasion, as lie had been subjected to a remon- strance in the morning for having upheld liberal opinions. As a pause in the conversation here ensued, from no one daring further to continue the argument, fearing to irritate the Baronet still more, Constance rose from her seat, saying, " she must not sit there preaching charity when she ought to be practising it herself ;^^ adding that " she must set off to see her aunt, who was very unwell." " You surely do not mean to leave the house this stormy night, and run the risk of laying your- self up for a month," said Sir Stephen to this proposal of his daughter, again speaking in an angry tone of voice. " If I were ill, father, I would not propose taking such a step ; for in that case I should be doing more harm, by becoming troublesome to other people, than I should be doing good, by visiting my aunt. As I am quite well, however, I hope you will not object to my driving over to see her." EXCITEMENT. 17 "Wellj you may go then/^ muttered Sir Stephen; ^' but remember, if you meet Mrs. Stanton there (who I dare say will be with your aunt, cramming her with slops), you are on no account to form any intimacy with her." " But she is such a good, kind-hearted woman," replied Constance, who appreciated kind feelings whenever she found them ; " I cannot be rude to her, or refuse her attentions." " Never mind what her heart is like, but do as I bid you," answered Sir Stephen, in an irritable tone of voice. " Well, then, I will hold up my head and look very stately when she addresses me," replied Constance, laughingly, as she thought at the same time that, as Mrs. Stanton was neither refined in person or in manners, she could give up that point to her father without much hurting her own feelings. Constance now left the room, not without giving, however, a warning glance at her lover as she passed him, who looked smilingly at her, as much as to say, — ^' You see I have kept my pro- 18 EXCITEMENT. mise/^ As soon as she had departed^ and Captain Frazer had closed the door after her, the gentle- men reseated themselves at the table, whilst the master of the house called for more claret. It is, perhaps, necessary to remind the reader, that the following conversation took place in the Summer of 1845, when the Repeal of the Corn- Laws formed a prevalent topic of discussion ; and, though, since that time, other political subjects have arisen in society of much more intense in- terest, yet as it is principally the manner and temper in which the one we are about to treat was conducted, which affects this tale, we must not omit it. " I wish to know, Tremaine,^^ therefore, was Sir Stephen^s first address to that gentleman when conversation was again resumed, " the meaning of what you said yesterday, about establishing a greater equality of wealth; I hope you surely do not advocate the making of a parcel of upstart beggars equal to ourselves ? '' " If, by the term ' upstart beggars,^ you mean the poor,'' replied Tremaine, " I certainly mean EXCITEMENT. 19 I wish to see them raised, from a state of poverty and wretchedness, to a greater degree of comfort and happiness : were there less inequahty in wealth, there would be less poverty and star- vation.'^ " And yon would have the justly-earned wealth of the rich scattered amongst a set of idle vaga- bonds, who have no noble blood in their veins ? " exclaimed the Baronet, who was one who con- sidered good feelings lay in the blood, though had he been asked the meaning he attached to his words, he would, like many others, probably have been very much puzzled to explain it. " I only advocate the tax being taken off the greatest necessary of hfe," replied Tremaine, helping himself, as he said so, to one of a contrary description, whilst he continued — " The great landed proprietors wish to keep Ijold of monopoly in corn, which monopoly is un- just ; Government, too, should only di'aw its re- sources from duties placed on unnecessary luxuries.'^ '' Ah ! " replied Sir Stephen, getting a little 20 EXCITEMENT. irritated, not only against his adversary's opinions, but also against himself, " a pretty statesman you would make ; you would ruin the agriculturist by your mad schemes/' This charge of ruining the agriculturist being unfortunately an accusation which always led Tremaine to enter on the subject of political economy — in answer to Sir Stephen (forgetful of the warning glance Constance had given him) he began dilating on his views on that subject, stating, in conclusion, that in his opinion, the spindle and the loom were as worthy of protec- tion as the spade and the plough, and that favouring an increase of manufactured goods was the only means of increasing the wealth of the country, since more land could not be created. " And favour, likewise, an increase of an idle, vagabond population, *whom we shall have to sup, port,'' added the now angry Baronet; his coun- tenance becoming more gloomy the further the conversation was pursued. "If they are fully employed in manufacturing articles which they can EXCITEMENT. 21 exchange for cheaper bread/^ continued Tremaine, still persisting in stating his opinion, "they cannot be called an idle, vagabond population; their morals and education, however, must be attended to by our clergy." " I fear many of us," joined in Dr. Bowman, taking advantage of Tremaine^s last observation to give a different turn to the discourse, in order to prevent the anger of the Baronet from increasing — " I fear many of us do not exert ourselves as much as the occasion demands, there being need of un- wearied exertion, and much too being expected from us — even that our own conduct should be the standard of perfection, and that we should only preach what we are enabled to practice." " And why should you ever do otherwise ? why should you preach to others what you do not practice yourselves?" was Sir Stephen^s reply, which he uttered in a tone of surprise, turning how^ever, from Tremaine, who was seated on his left hand, to the Doctor, who was placed on his right, which thus offered to Tremaine an oppor- timity of leaving the room ; Constance, however. 22 EXCITEMENT. having gone to visit her annt^ Tremaine kept his seat. " We must preach Christ as the great example ; for as we are human, and consequently sinful, our lives can never be held up as a perfect standard," answered Dr. Bowman, who, though not in the habit of preaching out of the pulpit, thought on this occasion it was incumbent on him to correct notions so decidedly erroneous as those he had just heard. During the dialogue related above, Captain Frazer and Spoletti had been carrying on a whis- pered conversation together at the opposite side of the table ; in which the words, " diamonds," and '^ clubs," might occasionally be heard, denoting the subject of their discourse. The former, how- ever, though thus engaged, did not seem quite indifferent to the discussion which had been going on between Sir Stephen and Tremaine, though he never hazarded an observation. Although the conversation had been given a religious turn by Dr. Bowman, the intention of that worthy pastor being to endeavour to cause EXCITEMENT. 23 Sir Stephen to direct his observations to himself, it did not, unfortunately, continue long on that subject; for Sir Stephen, preferring a political argument to a religious one, soon again addressed Tremaine : — '^'^As our clergy are unable to make our poor Siny thing better than an ignorant, brutal set of people — such being their condition — theyshouldbe kept down, and not allowed to have any opinion as to what taxes Government may think advisable to lay upon them ; since how should they be able to judge what is best for them?" " Though they may not possess good judgment, they can always feel when they are unjustly treated," replied Tremaine, again resuming the argument. " They have no business to feel anything," sharply retorted the Baronet, adding, ''^Pray, who would have to clean our boots and shoes if all our lower classes became legislators ?" As Tremaine really did feel the sentiments he expressed in favour of the poor, and he, being no hypocrite, had ever acted up to his professions, it 24 EXCITEMENT. was not to be wondered at tliat lie should again make a reply to the observations of Sir Stephen, answering his last question by saying — '^ If we were to act justly by them they would then not meddle with the legislation ; at least only the unreasonable and discontented would be so inclined, which characters we should then have a right to control." Though Tremaine, when he uttered this speech, thought he had said nothing offensive, the Baron- et's feelings became again excited, making him exclaim — '^ 'T is such fools as you are who would bring the country to ruin, and cause a Revolution here, similar to what passed in France in the last cen- tury." "Yet as Mr. Tremaine's opinions are held by many talented men," again mildly interposed the Doctor, who thus made another effort to interrupt the argument, "he can hardly be considered deficient in sense for holding them." " With all due deference to your observation, I do not think it a proof of possessing talent, if those EXCITEMENT. 25 who claim such a distinction bring the country to ruin/^ answered Sir Stephen, a Httle more calmly, who, as he was replying to the Doctor, endeavoured to suppress his angry feelings against Tremaine. Unfortunately, however, this temporary calm- ness did not continue ; for Tremaine, thinking he had not sufficiently explained his views to Sir Stephen, again aroused him by saying : ^' But more liberal measures, which are what the men you despise advocate, would prevent that catas- trophe ; for after having given to every one what it is just and right he should possess, we should then feel justified in acting vigorously against those who claimed more than their share of power, or who disturbed the public peace." "And what right have the poor to have any share in the government ?" now almost roared the Baronet. " I conceive every man who pays a share of the taxation has that right, to a certain extent," replied Tremaine; "and whoever denies it to him, is not only ungenerous, but also unjust." As Tremaine, when he uttered these sentiments, c 26 EXCITEMENT. expressed them in nearly as excited a manner as his adversary, and also in a tone which showed his contempt of Sir Stephen's narrow-minded views, the latter after hearing them, became yet more highly incensed. This time, however. Sir Stephen's anger was not confined to words ; for, after rising from his seat, he not only dashed the glass which he held in his hand on the floor, but he also struck the table violently, crying out as he did so, in a menacing tone of voice, " If such are your opinions, and such the manner in which you choose to express them, you must no longer consider the door of my house open to you ; for my daughter shall never become the wife of a revolutionary democrat/' At hearing these words, Tremaine was thunder- struck, having never imagined his observations would draw down such a reply ; but though he now felt he had said too much, and wished the offending words had never passed his lips, yet still as he thought that he could not now retract them, or rather believing it necessarytohishonor to continue to uphold the opinions he had expressed ; he only EXCITEMENT. 27 faltered out, ^' Surely, Sir Stephen, you will not forbid my seeing Miss Devereux, for having merely offered an opinion opposed to your own ?" " Pray do not punish Mr. Tremaine so severely, for his political sentiments," once more interposed Dr. Bowman, who, though always a peace-maker, was more particularly desirous of effecting a recon- ciliation in this case than in any other. " Am I to punish myself then by listening to them?" was however Sir Stephen^s answer to the Doctor's supplication. " No !" continued he in a still louder tone, as he stood regarding Tremaine, with anger flashing from his eyes, " T will neither endure any longer the presence of a man who holds such opinions, nor listen to a single word which either he, or anj^ one else, may presume to offer in defence of them." As, after such a declaration on the part of Sir Stephen, Tremaine felt he could say nothing more, though what he had just heard he considered was a death-blow to all his hopes ; he arose from his seat, walked with rapid steps across the room, and then, without uttering a single word to any c2 28 EXCITEMENT. of the party seated at the table, he left the apartment. Although Tremaine was thus precipitate in his retreat from the presence of Sir Stephen, he did not so immediately leave the house : he being arrested in his progress by Captain Frazer, who had followed him, though more leisurely, out of ^the room. " Sir Stephen seems touchy, this evening," said the latter to Tremaine, as he was crossing the hall, on his way to the outer door. Tremaine made no reply. "Mais cela passera vite" added the Captain carelessly, evidently, however, endeavouring to extract an answer from his companion, who how- ever still remained silent. " Shall I meet you at Frainoi^s to-night, — will j^ou give me my revenge ?" continued the Captain, this time framing his address so as to demand an answer. " Yes, if you particularly wish for it, for any thing will be better than thought," at last ex- claimed Tremaine, the tone of his voice betraying EXCITEMENT. 29 great impatience. Short as this reply was, it nevertheless satisfied the Captain, who, in answer, merely said, " Au revoir/' he and Tremaine se- parating, after leaving the house. As may be imagined, Tremaine experienced an overwhelming sense of misery after the conversa- tion above related, causing him, consequently (notwithstanding his last declaration), on arriving at his own apartments, to give way to the most bitter reflections. Before mentioning, however, what turn these reflections took, we must give the reader some insight into the motives and passions which influenced both Sir Stephen Devereux and Tremaine, duiing their argument. As we before stated. Sir Stephen Devereux was a man of an irritable temperament and obstinate disposition, little disposed to brook opposition to his will; but had he been only ill-tempered and obstinate, he would not, probably, have ex- pressed so much anger against his intended son- in-law as he did ; such however was not the case, for Sir Stephen possessed many other unpleasing traits besides those we have mentioned, being 30 EXCITEMENT. likewise cold-hearted and uncliaritable in the extreme. This being, therefore, the character of the Baronet, it was natural that when Tremaine advocated sentiments of an opposite nature to his own, he should feel the expression of such to be a kind of reproach to himself. Not that he by any means admitted that he was deficient in human kindness to any one ; as, when he closed his heart against the sufferings of his fellow- creatures, he called it ^' acting upon conservative principles ;" whilst Tremaine^ s doctrine, of the duty of the rich showing kindness to the poor, he termed " a system subversive of all distinction of classes," concealing, though but to himself, the real nature of his own opinions under a political cloak. The character of Edward Tremaine, however, which we must now describe, was very much opposed to that of Sir Stephen Devereux, he being in truth what he professed, namely, liberal, or rather charitable, in his feelings towards all mankind, — practically, too, as well as theoretically. We must acknowledge, however, that Tremaine EXCITEMENT. 31 .had failings as well as Sir Stephen, — he was, un- fortunately, of the same excitable temperament, and not only that, but also, though he was highly principled and straight-forward in all his actions, the former characteristic was somewhat tinctured by pride, which, as it led him to uphold tenaciously any opinion he had adopted from principle, de- ceived even himself as to its true nature; he conceiving the reluctance he felt to retract an opinion once stated, or to give up a project once formed, to proceed from firmness of purpose, rather than to the somewhat more objectionable feature in his disposition. This being, therefore, the character of Tremaine in his political argument with Sir Stephen, the more ardently and sincerely he loved Constance Devereux, the less he felt he could renounce expressing his principles; conceiving he would not be worthy of the happiness of obtaining her hand, should he be so weak as to desert the cause he was advocating after once having entered on the subject. The warning glance which Constance had given him, was unfortunately more productive 32 EXCITEMENT. of evil than of good; for had the conversation continued on the subject first entered upon, it might have been concluded amicably ; the opinions expressed by Sir Stephen approaching somewhat to those of Tremaine. The latter, like the Ba- ronet, did not conceive an abandonment of the luxuries of hfe altogether free from objections; he being of opinion, that such a line of proceeding (leading as it must necessarily do, not only to the neglect of the use of productions meant for our enjoyment, but also of the intelligence evidently bestowed to enable us to make use of such gifts) could not be the one intended by Providence that we should piu'sue. Tremaine, however, though holding such opinions, did not think it necessary to support Sir Stephen against the Doctor; con- ceiving that the latter was perfectly right in stating a different view of the subject to such a man as the Baronet, who being no rigid abstainer from the comforts and luxuries of life, needed no arguments in favor of their use. Having now, however, explained the characters and opinions of Sir Stephen Devereux, and Ed- EXCITEMENT. 33 ward Tremaine, we must proceed to disclose the meditations of the latter. Although Tremaine repented of having uttered the sentiments and opinions which had excited the anger of Sir Stephen, he felt, nevertheless, by no means inclined to renounce them. This, however, was natural, it being less humiliating to refrain from speaking our sentiments than to retract words that have once proceeded from the lips; many being able to do the former, whilst few (even when fully convinced they have been wrong) are willing to carry out the latter. Tre- maine thought, moreover, that as the opinions he had stated were perfectly justifiable and moderate, and as he continued to entertain them, he could not, with any degree of sincerity, make further concessions to Sir Stephen, much as he wished for a reconciliation. But Tremaine, whilst reasoning thus, for- got there was one conciliatory line of conduct still in his power to adopt without compromising his principles, namely, that of expressing sincere regret to Sir Stephen that he had explained his c3 34 EXCITEMENT. political views to him in such a manner as to ex- cite his displeasure. This step towards conciliating the Baronet^ however, which Tremaine might have adopted, since he really had been excited, he did not think of taking ; his pride, alas ! supported, as it were, by his principle, preventing him. It must not, however, be supposed that Tre- maine had the slighest idea that he was actuated by such a feeling as pride, it being so interwoven in his mind with principle as made it difficult, even for himself, to discover whether it were the higher sentiment or the lower which governed his actions : but so it was, however, as the conclu- sion he came to proved ; for sincerely — nay, even passionately, as he loved Constance Devereux, he nevertheless exclaimed, whilst fearing he was about to lose her — " Not even for her sake will I deny my prin- ciples; since not even for her love should I be- come the servile follower of Sir Stephen Devereux.'' EXCITEMENT. 35 CHAPTER III Oh heaven I that one might read the book of fate. And see the revolutions of the times Make mountains level, — Oh, if this were seen, The happiest youth, — viewing his progress through, What perils past, what crosses to ensue,— ^Vould shut the book, and sit him down and die." Shakespeare. In pursuing our tale, we must relate that Tremaine was not aroused from his unpleasant meditations until the sound of a distant clock reminded him of his promise to meet Captain Frazer. Just, however, as he was about to leave the apartment to which he had retired, he was prevented by meeting a person, who was just coming in. This unexpected visitor, however, happened to be but a youth; who, though he could hardly have numbered twentj^ summers. 36 EXCITEMENT. yet evidently seemed to consider himself as having arrived at man^s estate. "Where are yon going in such a hurry, Tre- maine?'^ said the young gentleman_, as he met the latter at the door of his apartment. "I was going to Frainoi^s, to meet a gentle- man/^ replied Tremaine; "the appointment is unfortunately one that I cannot put off, or else I should ask you to " " Oh, do not neglect fulfilling any engagement on my account/' said the stranger; "but take me with you, as that will be equally agreeable to me as your staying at home, if not more so.'' " That I cannot do, as you are not a member of the house; and besides, it is not a place to which I should like to introduce you," quickly answered Tremaine, now anxious to depart. "Then why go there yourself?" replied the youth — " I am not a child, any more than you are, and I wish to become a member as well as your- self, and to be proposed by you." Though Dudley Seymour, as the youth was named, thus urged his request, Tremaine paused EXCITEMENT. 37 to consider what reply he ought to make ; for he could not but feel that he had himself rashly acceded to Captain Frazer^s invitation, though he flattered himself he had an excuse for his conduct, as he had done so whilst his feehngs were too much agitated for him to reflect on what the consequences might be. So long, however, as the folly of the step would only involve himself, he felt he might be careless of the result, for at that moment a diversion to his own miserable thoughts was all he sought for ; but now that his young cousin instanced his conduct as an example for his own, he saw all the evil of it, and therefore he wished heartily that he had chosen some better method of turning his mind from dwelling on the consequences of the scene which had just taken place. All that remained in his power now, however, was firmly to refuse taking his cousin with him. Long had Tremaine to argue on the subject, for the young man thought that his cousin^s only objection was, his not considering him old enough to join in the manly diversion of the gaming-table. 38 EXCITEMENT. This method of reasoning was very natural, for as Tremaine was going thither himself, he could not convince his cousin of the immorality of accompanying him, or that it was a dangerous amusement for one, and not so for the other. " I know you have a right to throw away your money as you like/^ continued Tremaine ; " you may be ruined yourself, or you may ruin others ; either way you increase the amount of misery which is in the world, and which we ought to endeavour to diminish.^^ " But I have no intention of becoming a pro- fessed gambler," replied Dudley Seymour ; "I only wish to amuse myself occasionally with a throw, to try my fortune." " But after one evening spent at Frainoi^s, the next morning you will, in all probability, feel your nerves so unstrung with the excitement of the preceding night, as to make you languid and restless during the following day ; and, therefore, at its close, you will be inclined to seek again the same species of excitement : thus the reaction the next morning will be doubled, and so you may EXCITEMENT. 39 be led on until both your body and your mind have become unfit for any of the higher pursuits of life/^ " Pray, when did you become a doctor, to enable you to talk as though you had taken out a diploma ? " enquired Dudley Seymour, ironically, in reply. " I am not giving you any information beyond what every one ought to know,^' answered Tre- raaine, "namely, that if we excite our nervous system by any unnatural stimulants, we must always experience the re-action afterwards ; and that feeHng will lead us again and again to apply to the same source of excitement ; drinking, like- wise, has the same e\dl tendency, and the drunk- ard, in like manner, seeks to re-animate his languid energies by applying repeatedly to the same poison which first excited him.^' " You first preach me a sermon on the immo- rality of gambling ; then you give me a medical lecture to show nie how injurious it is physically ; whilst in a short time you mean to amuse your- self with this very objectionable pursuit ! How 40 EXCITEMENT. am I to distinguish wliicli to follow, your preach- ing or your practice ? ^^ " In thus speaking, Dudley, as you show me that my practice is wrong," replied Tremaine, " this shall be the last evening that I will ever enter a gaming-house. As, however, I have pro- mised to join Captain Frazer, and as I do not mean to break my promise, I must leave you to seek any other amusement that you can find." " Oh, you mean to leave me to the innocent recreation of playing on your piano," replied Seymour again, in an ironical tone, though be- coming more excited as the argument continued ; " but suppose I should, in consequence, acquire a violent passion for music — spend all my time at the instrument, and become so excited by the ardour of composition as to unfit myself for being ' a useful member of society / pray, who would be to blame for that result but your very wise self? " "As I do not think you are likely to carry your musical propensities to any such height,, I have no fears for the consequences," replied Tremaine ; " especially as even if you did, the EXCITEMENT. 41 exertion necessary to enable you to become a second Haydn, or Mozart, would prevent your mind being debilitated by your amusement, — an effect wbicli would most assuredly follow from the amusement you advocate/^ " All that you say may be very fine, and suit some people's tastes," replied Seymour, pettishly ; adding, as he now rose from his seat, " but as I do not appreciate it, and am tired of your preaching, I will bid you good night ;" repeating which sentence, the youth rapidly strode across the apartment, quickly opened the door, and then, without uttering another word, closed it after him with \iolence. Notwithstanding the warning conveyed in the last scene, we have it to relate, that half an hour later Edward Tremaine was standing in the middle of a brilliant saloon, the objects which surrounded him betraying the ob- jectionable nature of the amusements afforded within its walls. Those walls were, nevertheless, hung with enormous mirrors, which reflected back the light from a thousand lamps : rich curtains of silk 42 EXCITEMENT. damask liung in ample folds to shade tlie win- dows — luxurious couches, covered with the same gorgeous material, invited the indolent to repose, whilst, through folding doors, another apartment was visible, appropriated to the luxuries of the table, tempting viands being placed there ready to refresh the idle loungers in that enticing resort. At the time Tremaine entered, few had, as yet, sought refreshment, for most of the com- pany there assembled were seated at the tables in the outer saloon, many of which were already surrounded by anxious faces, watching intently the result of each game. Tremaine, after having stood and looked around him for some time, seated himself at length at one of the smaller tables, apart from the rest of the company, for the purpose of playing a game at ecarte with his former adversary. Captain Frazer; just, however, as he was about to com- mence dealing the cards, he was interrupted by a servant of the establishment putting a card into his hand, and whispering something in his ear. " You may show the gentleman up," was Tre« EXCITEMENT. 43 maine^s reply; the tone of his voice, however, betraying that his visitor was anything but wel- come. And so it was, in truth, for notwithstanding Tremaine^s argument — when a few minutes later the stranger was announced — it was Dudley Seymour who entered the saloon. " As I did all I could to prevent this, the con- sequences will not rest on my head,'^ muttered Tremaine, as he once more placed himself at the table from whence he had risen when Seymour came in. But he forgot he had not done all. Tremaine then began to play, whilst Dudley Seymour stood behind his chair, and betted on the game. Long and late burnt the lights in this brilliant saloon, whilst many a pulse throbbed with fever- ish rapidity, and many a brain became distrac- ted with fear, before the rays of the morning sun drove the votaries of excitement to their homes. Still more fearful, however, than the passing a languid feverish day, or the excitement atten- dant upon another similarly spent night, were the consequences to some of the party there 44 EXCITEMENT. assembled. Before seven o^ clock the next morn- ing, two shots had been fired on Wimbledon Common ; — a fall, and a cry of agony had suc- ceeded — and then, wounded and writhing in pain, the body of Dudley Seymour had been borne, almost hfeless, to his home. But how this hap- pened, we must explain : — The unfortunate youth having, in the course of the evening, imagined that a gentleman in the room had insinuated that he was only a boy, and unfit to become a member of an establishment like the one they were in, had addressed him in unbecoming language : this proceeding naturally causing a retort, a challenge had been the con- sequence. Urgently had Tremaine tried to prevent this conclusion to the quarrel, he being conscious he was himself much to blame throughout the affair. Vainly however had he represented to each, that his adversary had only made a trifling observation, which, meaning nothing, required no attention. Vainly, too, had he dwelt on the wickedness of the premeditated act. Young and head-strong, with EXCITEMENT. 45 no fixed principles to guide his conduct, Dudley Seymour would listen to no remonstrances, nor attend to any advice; thus following only the impulse of his own passionate temper, he had rushed madly to his own destruction — implicating Tremaine, who had acted as his second, and Captain Frazer, who had acted in that capacity to his adversary, also in the sad affair. As, however, the future consequences to Tre- maine we mean to reserve for another chapter, all that is necessary to relate in this is, — that a few hours after the melancholy catastrophe, Captain Frazer, and the gentleman who had fought the duel, where whirling along the South Eastern Railway to Dover, en route for the Continent (Dudley Seymour's medical attendan having pronounced his recovery hopeless); Ed- ward Tremaine, who considered it his duty to stay by the bed-side of his dying cousin, re- maining behind. 46 EXCITEMENT. CHAPTER. lY. Wherefore come ye not to court? Certain 'tis the rarest sport ; Bullies among brave men justling, Beg-gars amongst nobles bustling; Low-breathed talkers, minion lispers, Cutting honest throats by whispers ; Wherefore come ye not to court? Shelton swears 'tis glorious sport. Shelton. The same morning on which tlie duel was fought, Sir Stephen Devereux was seated in his library^ x^oring over various accounts, some of which seemed to the Baronet to be of an un- pleasant nature, for he often knit his brows, and at times rose from his seat to pace the room with agitated steps. Whilst he was thus employed, a footman brought in some large packets of papers, which looked like share lists, and presented them to Sir Stephen. The Baronet eagerly seized EXCITEMENT. 47 them, opened, and glanced over tliem as quickly, and then, evidently displeased at their contents, threw them with violence on the table. It happened, at the moment he threw the papers so contemptuously down, that a gentle- man was ushered into the room, who apparently was full of intelligence — it was Spoletti, the artist, who, apologizing for intruding on Sir Stephen so early, said — '' he thought the knowledge of the event T\hich he came to communicate would be of sufficient interest to excuse his early call." '^ I hope you do not come to tell me, that the railway from Sandy-nook to Cropton Com- mon is given up, '^ said the Baronet hastily, pick- ing up again, as he spoke, one of the despised papers. "AMiat I have to tell you is of a more do- mestic nature,'^ lisped the artist in reply, " and it is, that Mr. Tremaine has this morning" '' Run away with my daughter ! " cried Sir Stephen, still impatiently, as he remembered that Constance did not appear at the breakfast table. 48 EXCITEMENT. ^' A little patience, Sir Stephen — it is not so bad as that ; he has only acted as a second to his cousin, Mr. Seymour, who has fought a duel with Mr. Denham, and has been dangerously wounded.'^ " That is news indeed ! '' answered Sir Stephen, looking, however, less agitated than he did when he thought the intelligence that Spoletti had to communicate was concerning his railway shares. " Pray, where did the quarrel between the two fools take place V^ continued he. "At Frainoi^s, where Mr. Tremaine introduced Mr. Seymour. I was there, and heard there was a quarrel over one of the tables, but I came away early, and did not hear the result of it till an hour ago/^ "And so Edward Tremaine turns out to be a professed gamester, and a decoyer of his young cousin into the same evil practice ! " exclaimed the Baronet, apparently rejoiced at having found out something tangible against Tremaine, adding, triumphantly, " I am glad I dismissed him from my house yesterday, since Captain Frazer was EXCITEMENT. 49 right ; for never shall Tremaine enter it again — never shall Constance become the wife of a gamester !" " Captain Frazer was one of the party himself, and acted as second to Denham/^ rephed Spoletti : " he and his friend have set off to the Continent together." "It is a disgraceful business indeed!" ejacu- lated Sir Stephen, in reply ; " but yet Frazer is not so much to blame as Tremaine : he does not inherit Dudley Seymour's estates, should Seymour die without an heir." '' Has Mr. Tremaine then that prospect ? " asked Spoletti. "Yes, he is his cousin's heir in case of the latter leaving no issue," rephed the Baronet ; and then added, in an ironical tone, " the world will soon see what Tremaine's fine liberal sentiments are worth ; men like him are too busy thinking about ' the interests of the poor,' forsooth, as they call it, to be very careful of their own charac- ters and conduct." "Tremaine professes to be so very good — he D 50 EXCITEMENT. Avould starve us poor artists, for the sake of ^ the poor\ " observed Spoletti in reply ; " I am sure I am one of them, so he need not take my bread away from me/^ ^' No, certainly not ; but Tremaine likes popu- larity, and he gets more applause by talking about their rights than he would by encouraging such good fellows as you are. This affair has disgusted me with fine sentiments. Only think of such a man schooling me ! — me — Sir Stephen Devereux ! who has seen more of the world than he is ever likely to see, for I think he will arrive at the gallows before long.^^ ^^ Or, perhaps, he may be ruined at Frainoi^s,^^ added Spoletti, endeavouring to suggest some misfortune to Tremaine, as he saw it would please the Baronet. His attempt succeeded but too well, for Sir^ Stephen, adopting the idea imme- diately, replied to Spoletti^s last remark, by saying — "Yes, a very likely thing to happen; such fellows turn to the excitement of the gaming- table when they cease to be objects of public ap- EXCITEMENT. 51 plause ; that, however, he is not likely to be any longer, for even his friends, the poor, will not applaud such a mean, murderous villain as he has proved himself." Saying which, Sir Stephen again took up another of his large packets, and dashed it on the floor. '• Shall I have the honor of a sitting from Miss Devereux this morning ? " now asked Spoletti, who felt fearful of dwelhng too long on the subject of the duel with the excited Baronet. " My daughter declined breakfasting with me, on account of not feeHng well, as she said; so I suppose she will refuse to see you to day. I told her last night that Edward Tremaine should never enter the house again." Spoletti here rose, for having now disburdened himself of his intelligence to Sir Stephen, he felt anxious to communicate his story to others, having gained the additional information that Edward Tremaine had inveigled his cousin into Frainoi^s, in the hope of bringing about the catastrophe which had ensued, and that, too, in order that he might succeed to Seymour^s large d2 UNIVERSITY Of- TuiNois \mim 52 EXCITEMENT. property. The treacherous Itahan, however^ was not going to spread this report through any feel- ing of personal dislike to Tremaine, but solely for the purpose of amusing his patrons, by render- ing the account of the duel more piquant ; never considering that he was going to blight the cha- racter of an honourable man, by thus distorting the truth, merely for the purpose of fostering the prevailing passion for excitement. EXCITEMENT. 53 CHAPTEE V. " Rechercher des sensations, chercher a s'emouvoir sans cesse, c'est enerver I'intelligence et la volonte, Cet etat de I'ame est souvent d6 a I'oisivete." G. Drouixeau. In every clime^ and in every age, men have songlit scenes of excitement. In former times, war and conquest seemed, to men of uncultivated minds, to offer the sweetest food to their appetites ; therefore, during this period the Romans fought, and, excitement stimulatingthem, they conquered. But when other objects of excitement arose to divert men^s minds from the pleasures of warfare, and when the indulgence of various luxuries offered more attractions to them than the fiercer 54 EXCITEMENT. jojs of wai^ — no longer under sucli a stimulant, they lost — and then Rome fell, and the Barbarian conquered in his turn. Mahomet attracted his followers, and retained them around him, by presenting pictures of sen- sual felicity to their imaginations, which, exciting them to deeds of valour, enabled them to lay the foundation of his dominion, and, as long as the excitement lasted, to conquer and to enjoy. The Crusades afforded a source of excitement to the half-barbarous nations of Europe ; religious zeal, and superstitious expectation, added to the desire of conquest, offering, united, a most pow- erful stimulus. There was, besides, a something mysterious connected with an expedition to a country so little known as was, at that remote period, the Holy Land to the warriors who sought it ; for in those dark ages no curious pen had described aught of its awful desolation, nor faith- ful limner pourtrayed a single glowing scene. It may be thought, however, in adding the last- named motives to the preceding, that we do in- justice to the Crusaders, in attributing their EXCITEMENT. 55 enthusiasm to other feelings than those they themselves professed; still, if we recall to our remembrance the numberless disputes which arose concerning the distribution of the earthly rewards, to which so many laid claim, it gives us every reason to hold to the belief, un- just though it may at first appear, that it was the love of excitement, or the love of worldly possessions, which led these warriors on ; rather than the love of Christ, or of his religion. Again, in later times, what was it that led " the mighty Conqueror" on to victory and conquest — levelling thrones and dynasties in his path ? — Excitement ! yes, it was excitement, not heroism, which urged him on ; for where was the heroism of the fallen warrior, when shut up " in yon lone isle?" Deprived of all objects of excitement, he sank repining at his destiny, unable to endure, heroically, the consequences of his own presump- tuous actions. — Yes, his courage, his talents, his daring spirit, all failed, when no longer sup- ported by the feeling which created them : he fell, therefore, because he was but the Child of the 56 EXCITEMENT. Revolution^ brought forth by the exciting scenes of that period, and not a true regenerator of his country. This fact was proved by the conduct of his followers ; for when their minds grew weary of warfare and of bloodshed, then could he no longer urge them on to Victory : and thus he died, and was consigned to his lonely grave, there to lay until another generation, seeking the same stimulus, should disturb his ashes to afford another scene of Excitement (though but mo- mentary) to its restless votaries. And may it not be, that the disturbing the ashes of the fallen warrior, agitating the feelings of those who love to dwell on the remembrance of his mighty deeds, has been the cause of arous- ing such, to place in an exalted position one who is of that warrior^ s race, and who likewise bears his name ? But though from a momentary impulse of excited feeling such an event has been effected, it may not be impossible that power thus attained may yet be held with a firm grasp, and established on a foundation calculated to EXCITEMENT. 57 endure; and one, too, independent of associa- tions inimical to peace and prosperity among all nations. There is yet another species of excitement in which mankind indulge, leading too often to unhappy results ; and which, originating perhaps in causes not unreasonable in themselves, is yet to be dreaded : we mean here — Political Excitement. This state of feeHng, dangerous in itself, as fre- quently causing dissensions of various kinds, in families, — in society, — and amongst nations, is likewise dangerous, from its tendency to extend its roots far and wide ; for a partial exhibition of pohtical excitement, originating perhaps in the passions of the few, awakening in its progress the passions of the many, calls into being a hostile demonstration, until party against party, as they form themselves in ranks, make war upon each other. And thus it is, that what was at first but the expression of a diversity of opinion, changing its character, ends in that much to be dreaded movement, from which no good efi'ects are ever likely to arise, — a nation armed against itself^ d3 58 EXCITEMENT. under the influence of an ebullition of Popular Excitement. Yet when the objects which we pursue with excitement are of a pure and holy character, how ennobling becomes the impulse which guides us ! it thus assumes the dignity of enthusiasm. The Missionary may safely indulge in exciting his feelings; for how unwilling would he be to en- counter the numerous dangers and discomforts of his office, without the feeling of zeal for God^s glory to lead him on ; for he must not turn aside from his path as the traveller may, when dangers and difficulties present themselves ; he must not cling to the comforts of home, when other and higher duties demand his fostering care ; no ! he must endure every trial, suffer all manner of persecution, and continue to strive and to labour, without ceasing, to the end. Again, the Preacher from the pulpit becomes often more eloquent in the cause of Religion in the moment of Excitement, than when his feelings are restrained by a colder sentiment, convincing, under its influence, his hearers of the EXCITEMENT. 59 truth of what he preaches ; though, alas ! the effect produced is often only temporary. The Counsel, in like manner, if excited when pleading in a good cause, is not to be condemned, no evil results being likely to ensue from his zeal for his client ; few talents being more en- viable than the commanding power thus exercised of enthralling the attention and guiding the judg- ment of others. But can we say this of the effects of the excitement created at the gaming- table ? Alas, no ! The Missionary, — the Preacher, — and the Barrister, can enjoy repose after their exertions, and rise with renewed energy to their labours ; their excitement having been produced only by an intense desire to accomplish some object for the benefit of mankind. The Gamester, however, can enjoy no repose, as he exhausts the energies of his mind in a selfish and ruinous pursuit j for if not ruinous to his oivn fortune, it must be so to that of others, and cannot fail of being ruinous to his mind, his excitement \\n- fitting him for the rational occupations and duties of hfe. 60 EXCITEMENT. Yet though all this be plain to demonstration^ let not those who never frequent the gaming-table judge harshly of the conduct of those who do, when perhaps their own may come justly under the same condemnation ; for what is the man who risks all his wealth in uncertain speculations? What is the merchant who purchases more than his capital admits of? Or what is the man who, to gain political power, dissipates all his property in the pursuit ? All — all are gamesters, who thus live by the pleasures of excitement. A few short years, and what will be the result ? Perhaps a national reaction ; and we shall sink, as other na- tions have done before us, into insignificance and decay. This catastrophe, however, may not ensue for many years, though ultimately such may be our destiny, unless, as some believe in the fervour of their Religious Excitement, that " the end of all things is at hand/' EXCITEMENT. 61 CHAPTER VI. Ah ! sweeter to sink while the sky is serene, If time hath a change for thy heart ! If to live be to know only what thou hast been. Let me die whilst I know what thou art ! " Sir Edward BtJLWER Lytton. Various are the effects of sorrow and disap- pointment on the human breast ; various as the diversity in the characters of those who suffer. Some become depressed and melancholy when misfortune assails them ; nay, even reckless under its burden : others, of a higher nature, struggle heroically to sustain with dignity the weight of their woe, concealing from the world its im- measurable depth. Again, there are others who alternate in their conduct, struggling and endur- 62 EXCITEMENT. ing, or desponding and complaining, according to the manner in wliicli they are acted upon by passing events. This latter state might be said to be that of Constance Devereux, as_, on the morning the duel was fought,, having descended to a small morning room, she sat meditating on the subject of her lover^s dismissal, unconscious of what had more recently taken place. A friend was with her, who, before proceeding with our tale, we must describe. Rose Walton (for that was her name) was a pale, but interesting looking girl, with, however, rather too grave an expression of countenance for her years (she apparently only numbering about eighteen). This grave look was often dispersed when she was in the society of those she loved ; being, when conversing familiarly, succeeded by one of a naive expression. But strangers, who seldom saw this, pronounced Rose to be cold and reserved, though her intimate friends knew her frequently to be otherwise, particularly Constance, whom she was now endeavouring to amuse. The latter, however, appeared more inclined to EXCITEMENT. 63 meditate than converse, her work even (for she professed to be employed in the manufacture of a cushion) advancing but slowly, she frequently laying it down to lean her head upon her hand. It must not be thence supposed that Constance was indulging in an idle reverie ; for the realities of life, being not unknown to her, no vain dream of the impossible haunted her imagina- tion, neither was she picturing to herself a futu- rity of unalloyed felicity. It is true she was thinking of her lover, but her affection for him being sincere and unselfish, she was considering how the anger of her father could be averted from him, and whether any sacrifice on her part could effect that desirable object. Constance, however, was not enough of a heroine to have no despond- ing feelings on the occasion ; some gloomy doubts would intrude, for though she loved Tremaine with the sincerest affection, she was not blind to the fact of his having a somewhat excitable tem- per, making her fear, therefore, he might have aroused her father's anger to a height beyond pacification. 64 EXCITEMENT. In stating tliat Constance was aware of the defects in her lover's character, we must state, likewise, that she loved him not the less for his faults ; and'even though conscious herself of them, would never admit to any one else that he fell short of perfection. The thoughts of Constance being thus en- gaged, seated by her friend, she only languidly replied to the observations of her companion, as yet no word having passed her lips on the subject of her lover's dismissal. At length, however, Rose mentioned his name, asking her, laughingly, " if she had seen him that morning ? ^^ Though to this question Constance endeavoured to reply calmly, being overpowered by her emo- tions, she could but falter out, with quivering lips, that " she had not," before, covering her face with her hands, she burst into tears. Eose Walton, though feeling much grieved at witnessing her friend^s unhappiness, paused, how- ever, a few moments to consider what she ought to say on this occasion before speaking : having EXCITEMENT. 65 determined, she then rose, and after seating herself near her friend, she gently took her hand in hers and pressed it affectionately. Rose asked no questions — she did not even attempt to check the expression of grief, which now burst forth from Constance in floods of tears. Rose wisely waited until her friend had sufiiciently regained her composure to speak, only looking sympa- thizingly at her. '^ My father has forbidden me ever seeing him again,^^ murmured Constance at length, — still weeping as she spoke, her former calmness having deserted her after having once mentioned her sorrows. " But Sir Stephen, though a little hasty in his determination,'^ replied Rose, consolingly, " is changeable also, and, to-morrow, may alter it, and again admit Mr. Tremaine.^' " No, Rose, no — I am convinced he will never do so now,'' replied Constance, in a desponding tone. " Long have I feared this termination to our hopes ; — yes, every time that that dreaded subject 66 EXCITEMENT. of politics was introduced did I tremble for the result. Yesterday, whilst you were absent, the discussion became more violent than usual, and terminated in my father^s forbidding Edward ever to enter this house again. ^^ "Are you aware what Mr. Tremaine said in particular, which called down Sir Stephen's anger ? '' asked Rose, in reply. " I only conclude, from what my father said, that he had been nobly advocating the cause of the poor : 'tis therefore hard to think that Ed- ward is to suffer for upholding benevolent sen- timents." '^ But is it not better that he should have to suffer in a good cause, than that Sir Stephen should have forbid him his house for having committed any dishonourable action ? " asked Eose. " But still I cannot help suffering," answered Constance to this remonstrance, in a tone which betrayed how desponding her feelings were; she, however, soon after making this complaint, raised her head, and proudly added, " Yes> you are right — I ought to feel gratified with his con- duct ; for had my father had reason to have been EXCITEMENT. 67 angry with Edward for any action which was con- demnablCj that would have been much worse ; though in that case I should find no difficulty in dismissing him from my afi*ections as an un- worthy object, and that, too, without one feeling of regret/^ Constance, you deceive yourself,'' replied Rose, gravely, to the last obseiTation, — " you could not so easily dismiss him from your thoughts; neither would you, believe me ; for you would pity him for his faults, and pray for their amendment/' Rose, though young, had become acquainted with the nature of the feelings of the human heart; or, rather (for all are not alike), she under- stood her friend's character, and knew how she would act, better, it would appear, than Constance herself. '' It is useless to say what I might feel under circumstances which have not arrived," observed Constance, in reply ; ^^for Edward's conduct has always been noble and disinterested, and above all suspicion, and never will he be led into doing what is blameable." 68 EXCITEMENT. " Say not, never, dear Constance/^ replied Kose, still gravely, ^' for you have drawn a perfect cha- racter, and you will find there are none such in this world — besides, are we not instructed that 'There is none that doeth good, no, not one' ?'' At this observation Constance hung down her head, and remained silent for some time after; thinking, perhaps, that Rose was harsh in her judgment. This silence, however, Constance at last broke, but had only just begun murmuring "that she did not mean to say that Edward Tremaine was quite perfect '^ — when the door of the room was suddenly thrown open, and Tremaine himself stood before her. Constance started at this sudden appearance, and it was not surprising she did so ; for the agonized expression of her lover's countenance made him look so unlike the handsome Edward Tremaine, from whom she had parted the evening previous, that the first question she asked him, as she gazed earnestly in his face, was — " Whether he had seen her father that morning V^ " I come to bid you a last farewell,'' was Tre- EXCITEMENT. 69 maine's reply, as lie took both her hands in his, and pressed them convulsively ; " for/^ continued he, " I have now no hope remaining of ever being able to pacify your father, nor of ever being al- lowed to call you mine V' " A last farewell ! — no hope of a reconciUa- tion!" ejaculated Constance, with mournful sur- prise, betrajdng, by the tone of her voice, that though she had but just the moment before de- clared to her friend, that she and Tremaine would have to part ; that still she could not bear to hear the same assertion from her lover; the hope having, until now, lingered near her heart that he would be able to soften her father. '^ Alas, none ! " reiterated Tremaine, in a tone of the deepest anguish; "for Sir Stephen will now be more implacable than ever, and will con- demn me more severely than he has ever yet done.^^ . As Constance was still unaware that another barrier of a more serious nature than the last was placed between herself and Tremaine, and thought it was only the contemplation of the possibility of 70 EXCITEMENT. losing lier which had so agitated her lover, she now endeavoured to calm that agitation by sug- gesting the probability that she might in time be able to ^persuade her father to revoke the harsh decree he had pronounced against him. " Oh, talk not of hope to the wretched and despised !" cried Tremaine, wildly, in reply to her suggestions; "for you, even you, when you know all, will henceforth shun me, and look upon me with disdain : nay, more, — perhaps even shrink from the idea that your name was ever connected with that of the unhappy Edward Tremaine ! '^ " / shun you ? — / despise you, and look upon you with disdain ? — No ! " earnestly repeated Constance, — " no, not if the whole world did so, would I follow its example/' " Constance, perhaps you think so now,'' re- plied Tremaine, mournfully, as he pressed more tenderly the hands of Constance in his own ; whilst she showed, by her confiding looks, the perfect trust she reposed in him ; " and I thank you for telling me such is your belief; for it will EXCITEMENT. 71 be some comfort to remember I have been loved ; butj" continued he, seeing she was unaware of what had lately taken place, "but though you believe me to be worthy of your affectipn now, you will not, I fear, continue in that belief when you hear the world brand my name, and accuse me of leading another to destruction for my own worldly advantage/^ " Yes, I am fully persuaded I should still love you, if you can prove to me that what the world may say against you is not true,^^ replied Con- stance. There was a short pause after Constance had thus spoken, whilst the countenance of Tremaine changed its expression ; a slight compression of the lips showing he was struggling to refrain from uttering all his thoughts. This was per- haps owing to Constance using the word " prove,^' for when he spoke again, though his tone was supplicating, there was a somewhat proud ex- pression on his countenance, as he exclaimed — " Is it necessaiy, then, that I should prove to you, Constance, that I am not a mean-spirited 72 EXCITEMENT. deceiver^ before you will assure me of your con- fidence in my character^ and your continued affection for me T^ "But yet you might explain," replied Con- stance, as she now gazed earnestly at her lover, sure that either his reason was wandering, or that some more fearful event had taken place than she was acquainted with. " But can you have confidence in me without explanation; can you believe I have not com- mitted a base action, even should lamentable facts appear against me?" now earnestly de- manded Tremaine. At this demand, Constance turned pale, and paused a moment before giving a reply. It was but a moment, however, for still feehng confi- dence in her lover^s character, though alarmed at hearing there was something fearful to learn, she felt anxious to relieve the agonized state of his feelings, now saying, therefore, without further hesitation — "Never will I listen to any report that the world may spread against you; never will I EXCITEMENT. 78 credit any slander I may hear ; and never will I believe, except I hear it from your own lips, that your conduct has been otherwise than noble and disinterested/' After this declaration from Constance, so nobly and confidingly given, Tremaine advanced nearer to her, and whether emboldened by hearing it, or whether he still wished for a more perfect assurance of her love, he now put his arm round her waist, and drew her tenderly towards him. Rose, who perceived this action, removed from where she had been sitting, to a distant window, out of which she kept looking steadily; tliougli there seemed nothing in particular going on without, to attract her attention. Tremaine, in the mean time, kept murmuring something into the ear of Constance, which as the sounds reached that of Rose, struck her as a demand made on his part, that Constance should give him a promise, that she would never be the wife of another man. And such was the case. It may be thought, however, that Tremaine E 74 EXCITEMENT. was ungenerous in endeavouring to exact sucli a promise from Constance; and lie ma}'- be blamed for it accordingly. But love is exacting^ and is not of the same nature as esteem^ though it is sometimes^ by the cold-hearted^ confounded with it. It is true that Tremaine esteemed^ as well as loved Constance; though had he only experi- enced the former sentiment^ she might have united herself to any other man_, without a single objection on his part ; he loved her, however^ jjassionately, and therefore, though he felt there was now an insurmountable barrier placed be- tween them, he nevertheless could not endure the idea of her ever becoming the wife of another. That promise, however, he never re- ceived (though, had it been given, much misery would have been spared) ; for whilst Tremaine was attempting to give Constance some explana- tion of his conduct in regard to the duel, to show he was not quite unworthy to receive such a convincing proof of her affection, he was interrupted by Sir Stephen Devereux bursting into the room. EXCITEMENT. 75 '^ There need be no explanations liere/' cried the Baronet, as he stood gasping with infuriated rage before the lovers. " Depart fi'om my house this instant/^ continued he, addressing Tremaino, whom he saw was about to speak, " for no matter what excuses you may attempt to bring forward, no matter what smooth speeches you may make in your defence, I will never allow my daughter to have any more intercourse with you, or ever permit her to listen to such a \'ile, intriguing gamester, as you have proved yourself to be.^' *^*^What mean you, father, by applying those terms to Mr. Tremaine?" panted forth Con- stance eagerly, as she now became aware that some dreadful event had taken place. '' I mean," vociferated the Baronet, " that this man, this Edward Tremaine, inveigled his cousin, (a young inexperienced lad,) into Frainoi's gaming- house last night, — there he fomented a quarrel between the poor boy and another gentleman, and then acted as his second in a duel, in which Dudley Seymour was shot through the heart. The next step of this defender of the rights of E 2 76 EXCITEMENT. the poor will doubtless be, to take possession of this poor murdered cbild^s property, wbicb lie inherits after him. As such therefore is the case, if you, Constance, ever address a single word more to him, or ever hold any communica- tion with him, by vrriting, or otherwise, I will never forgive you, — no, never !" It would be difficult to describe the dismay of Constance on hearing these words, so utterly wretched did they cause her to feel. She looked first at Tremaine, however, who was pale as death, and then at her father, whose visage was inflamed with anger. " Just one word, father," she at length almost shrieked, as she remembered her assertion, that she would not condemn her lover except from his own lips — " only just one question ; is this tale true, Edward ; did you introduce Mr. Seymour into Frainoi's gaming-house ?" " Yes I did," murmured Tremaine in reply. " And did he fall in a duel ?" '' Yes, that is true likewise," again murmured he, "but I must explain to you for the sake of EXCITEMENT. 11 my own character/^ — continued Tremaine, as he saw the impression such an admission would create. His explanation^ however, came too late ; Con- stance heard the admission, but she heard no more; her sense of misery after hearing it be- coming so great, as utterly to overwhelm her by its force. No longer, therefore, being able to support herself, as well as no longer being con- scious of what was passing around her, she sank, fainting with terror, and thus it was, that before Tremaine could conclude the sentence he was uttering, Constance Devereux was stretched sense- less on the floor ! 78 EXCITEMENT, CHAPTER VII. " Yes, yes ; our immortality we learn From those desires which burn in every breast ; From longings which instruct us to discern There' s something beyond this world's very best Intended for us ; when we find the rest That welcome death brings to man's weary soul, Which, with life's varied ills, is sore distress'd : But yet whose longings he could ne'er conti'oul. Although the world were his, and he could grasp the whole." Collinson's Poems. Days and weeks rolled on in their accustomed course, after the event which we last recorded; but they were days and weeks of agony to the weary watcher over the sick bed of Dudley Seymour. Edward Tremaine, however, as he sat by the chamber of his dying cousin (being thus shut out from the world), had time to contem- plate his past actions, and to ask himself which of EXCITEMENT. 79 them had caused the accumulated load of misery, from which he suffered, to fall upon his head. What was the first fault he had committed, was his first question, as he sat meditating on the past. Was it that he stated erroneous opinions to Sir Stephen, or was it that he only pursued the argument with him too long? " Surely it was not the former,^^ was his reply ; " for was I not pleading the cause of the poor ? It was the latter, then," thought he, as he dis- missed his first question : " I ought not to have persisted in endeavouring to utter the last word.^^ That last word ! — how much harsh contention might be avoided between those who should live together in unity and peace, if, when a difference of opinion arose, each did not contend for it. It is, I believe, because the pronouncing the last word is frequently considered (by those ^vlio wish to accomphsh that position) as a sign that they are in the right, which makes each disputant so unwilling to give it up. If, however, on the contrary, the gi\^ng it up could be established as the sign that they who thus relinquished it 80 EXCITEMENT. were tlie party in the right, and that they only thus acted because they possessed a more peaceful, and more Christian spirit than their adversaries, then the "last word^^ would cease to be the aim of the disputer, and there would be peace in the homes of those who might not previously have dwelt together in unity and love. But, to retm-n to Edward Tremaine; — he was aware that another and a yet greater error he had committed, than that of persisting in the utterance of the last word, for his conscience told him that he ought not to have sought the excitement of the gaming-table as a means of drowning his unpleasing reflections, particularly as he perceived the evil example such conduct would be to his young cousin. This, therefore, was the great error — this search after, or rather flying to a dangerous means of creating excitement it was which had led to so much misery; the quarrel and the shedding of blood being the result of this act to others, — the loss of character, — the loss of Constance, — and the loss of his own esteem being the conse- quences to himself ! EXCITEMENT. 81 But though Tremaine severely condemned himself whilst making these reflections he also felt, that he was not so blameable as Sir Stephen Devereux had represented him to have been, and that he was unjustly accused by him and by the world. As his mind, therefore, dwelt upon this latter consideration, as well as the former, it had the effect of making him feel morbidly disposed against every one, which feehng increased each day, the longer he continued to sit musing on the subject. We hope, that our readers will not con- demn Tremaine too severely for not showing that patient resignation under his trials, which he, perhaps, ought to have exhibited ; many having professed to feel it, even under more trying cir- cumstances. Such, however, was not the case, which fact might be owing to Tremaine feeling utterly hopeless ; for hope being in reality often the sustainer of professed resignation, its loss renders resignation the more difficult, morbid feelings taking its place. e3 82 EXCITEMENT. It happened one evening when Tremaine was sitting ruminating on past scenes^ and feeling disgusted with the world for its injustice^ (having just heard that the charges against him, uttered by Sir Stephen, were widely circulating,) that he was aroused by the entrance of the physician in attendance. This gentleman, though he had a very quiet manner, and spoke in a low tone of voice, was nevertheless, a physician of the highest eminence, who did not scruple, when he saw it was needed, to offer his advice, on some occasions, even when not asked for it. After having listened to the surgeon's state- ments, therefore, and to the patient^ s own account of himself, who despondingly asked him " when he thought his last hour would come?^^ the physician turned to Tremaine, and demanded of him, " if he meant to become one of his patients too, as he adopted the surest method of becoming one, by confining himself so strictly to the close air of a sick chamber. Though, Tremaine, to this address, only mur- mured some few words which implied his caring EXCITEMENT. 83 little for life ; he, nevertheless, shortly after took up his hat, and for the first time since he had taken his station at the bed-side of his consiu, left the house. As Tremaine, when he set out on his walk, hardly knew whither he purposed going, he only strode along, street after street, thinking he walked not for pleasure, but only sought bodily fatigue. Gloomy, however, as his mood was, Tremaine continued his ramble until he found himself emerging out of Tottenham-court-road, and getting into a neighbourhood where the houses began to be intersected by trees. Ai'rived at last at Highgate Hill, Tremaine paused, and looked around. It was a grey cloudy evening, though a few streaks of red in the sky showed where the sun was setting, hardly vivid enough, however, to enliven the scene, whilst to add to its sombre character, a low murmuring breeze from the west played amongst the trees, the moaning sound of which fell on the ear of Tremaine with an unpleasing effect, and added to his melancholy. 84 EXCITEMENT. " Bnt^ oh ! if Constance did not despise me^ I would not heed what the world might say of me/^ thought he, as he stood gazing at the pros- pect of the mighty metropolis, which with its thousands of steeples, towers, and monuments, could be seen from whence he stood, spread- ing far and wide in the distance. "Besides, Avhy should I care for its opinion,^^ continued he, still soliloquising (the dwellers in the mighty mass of buildings before him being his world) ; " for since, though I sought to do good, — though I befriended the poor, — my reward has been to be hunted forth from the society of the woman I love ; henceforth, therefore, I will close my heart, and detest and shun that world which has un- justly condemned me ! " Whilst Tremaine was making these reflections, it happened, as if to give him an opportunity of acting in accordance with them, that an old man, bent with age and infirmity, drew near him, and in a low tremulous tone of voice, asked " charity.'' Tremaine, however, being in the mood we have EXCITEMENT. 85 described, impatiently bid tbe beggar " begone, " instead of relieving his wants, and then pursued his course until he arrived at the gates of Highgate Cemetery. He entered — the calmness of death reigned around : '* The sight of these sad tene- ments will hardly lessen my grief/^ said Tremaine, as he slowly walked up to the spot where the Cedar of Lebanon, which grows in that cemetery, spreads its branches over the catacombs of the dead. Notwithstanding this observation, however, Tremaine regarded for some time that strange cii'cle of melancholy tenements, which though built for the rich, are not inhabited by them until all alike are equal ; — and then passed on to glance at the tomb -stones of the more lowly. '' All that^s bright must fade,^^ were the simple words on one of them. Tremaine thought, " all bright hopes fade too," as he passed on again to regard tombstones, whose inscriptions were of a more serious character. For some time Tremaine continued his walk in the same desponding mood, until he stood before a monument with only the name and age 86 EXCITEMENT. of a woman^ who had apparently died youngs and the simple sentence, "Thy will be done/^ en- graven upon it. This struck him forcibly, more forcibly than any thing he had yet read, and therefore though he thought, as he regarded it, " How hard that is to say,^^ he also added, " yet as those who have lost her who sleeps below have said it, should not I repeat the same also ; since Constance still lives, and I (if Dudley Seymour recovers), may yet be justified to her, and to the world.^^ Now whether these reflections of Tremaine proceeded from resignation, or from hope, it chanced, as if to confirm him in the latter feeling, that whilst he was thus thinking, a ray of golden hght should suddenly cast a glow on the dark shady branches of the Cedar of Lebanon, near which he was again standing. Few minds being perfectly free from super- stition, it was not surprising that Tremaine should feel, as he looked at the glowing scene before him thus suddenly illumined, somewhat influenced by it ; yes, that golden ray shed not EXCITEMENT. 87 only its glowing beams on the landscape, but it likewise kindled bope once more in the breast of Tremaine, making the future appear less gloomy; as that hope, however, was associated with the tomb, it was not altogether of an earthly character, for Tremaine, though feeling assured he should meet Constance again, did not feel equally certain that it would be on this side of the grave. Trifling as the circumstances which we have recounted may have appeared, had any one watched Tremaine, they might have observed, that it had an immediate effect on his conduct, as well as on his feelings ; for whilst on his road home, his attention being attracted by the cries of a child, who had fallen down, he immediately went and raised the little sufferer, and as it too seemed unable to walk, he carried it to its mother. Perceiving also, that the child^s mother ap- peared very poor, he drew out his purse, and presented her with a sum of money, so consid- erable, that it made the woman stare, witli mingled gratitude and amazement. 88 EXCITEMENT. On meeting too again the old beggar, who had asked alms of him before, he now attended to his petition; thinking as he looked at the wretched creature before him, " There are mi- series in life greater than mine ; I will henceforth endeavour to endure my fate with calmness and resignation." That night Tremaine, for the first time since the duel, slept soundly, partly, it is true, from bodily fatigue, but chiefly from his being in a happier state of mind than he was previously ; the visit to the cemetery having softened his heart, and once more opened it to the sufferings of his fellow creatures. * * * * The next morning Tremaine went forth again into the world, — and the world welcomed him as before, — and he could see no traces of its condemnation. Nevertheless, the whisper against his character, still went round, though he could not hear it, and still more frequently were his opinions and his conduct sneered at, by those who held out to him the hand of fellowship. Yes, some of Tremaine^s acquaintances were EXCITEMENT. 89 of the world — worldly, and now spoke slightingly of his character, thinking, doubtless, it was more prudent not to speak well of one whom society condemned ; others, however, had more Christian feeling, and judged not his conduct harshly, daring even to defend him when blamed, and to extend to him before the world the hand of friendship. At the time in which the conversation in the following chapter took place (the summer of 1845), the future prospects of the country were briUiant, not having darkened as they did so much the year succeeding; for railway shares and speculations of all kinds at that time kept rising in value and increasing in number, and the country seemed in a state of comparative pros- perity; the rain, however, fell in torrents, — a good harvest seemed doubtful, whilst an increas- ing population caused many to fear that prosperity would not long continue. 90 EXCITEMENT. CHAPTER VIII. " As regards the men and things of the day— the things may know "what they are about, but the men, I am pretty sure, would be puzzled to give an account of themselves." Victor Hugo's " Bhine." The story of the duel served for some days as food for excitement to the idle and the gay ; for the parties implicated were known to many. Spoletti spread the tale in every direction, inasmuch as it was his interest to amuse his patrons, and the loungers at the club-houses were glad of a sub- ject for conversation. In one of the most splendid of these resorts^ a short time after the unhappy affair, sat two gentlemen at one of the windows, retired from the rest of the company in the room. One, the elder of the two, was of little stature, with a dark, sneering expression of countenance, EXCITEMENT. 91 which showed, he was not at least of an amiable disposition; the other was of a middle height, with a fair complexion, light hair, light mous- taches, and features of a German cast. Differing in character as these two gentlemen seemed, they were both occupied in the same manner, namely, in idling away an hour or two in turning over newspapers and magazines. " What sum will you bet, Keichenbach," said the first-named gentleman, "upon Dudley Sey- mour^ s chance of living through the week ? " " I think he will recover if the doctors do not kill him ; I sent to enquire after him this morn- ing, and I heard he was a little better.'^ "He won^t hve though,'^ replied the first speaker. " What a fool Tremaine is, to coop him- self up in a sick room, when he ought to be on the other side of the water ; but, perhaps, he finds himself very well situated for increasing the strength of Seymour^s opiate draughts, should they not prove tranquilizing enough.^' "I do not understand what you mean,'' en- quired the German ; " Tremaine is not a doctor V^ 92 EXCITEMENT. " No ; but lie is the heir to all Seymour^s fine estates, and" — " Oh, I see now what you would insinuate. What an uncharitable fellow you are ! " answered the German ; — " Tremaine, however, is too hono- rable to do such a thing, and he is a man of such liberal sentiments ! — but I do not think that you would be a good nurse under such circum- stances." " Thank you for your good opinion of me," replied the other, drily ; " I know Tremaine won your heart, by saying ^ he had found some of your countrymen quite as gentlemanly and well in- formed as the English/ " " And are they not so ? " hastily answered the German, whilst the blood mounted to his forehead — " I am sure the Germans are equal to the English in every respect." " Oh, I leave all fine speeches about the Ger- mans to Tremaine," said the Enghshman, eva- sively, (for though holding a contrary opinion to that of Tremaine, as he saw his companion was getting angry, he did not wish further to excite EXCITEMENT. 93 Kim ; but added, " I don^t think you have such clever fellows amongst your countrymen as that gentleman is, who is just entering the room/^ " Do you mean that stout, florid-looking man — who is he pray ? " "Do you not know Walton? the man who would make us a railway to the moon (that is, if it were at all likely to pay) . What an intel- lect that man has ! — it is hardly ten years sinc^ he stood behind the counter; he has raised himself to what he is though, for he was of no family." "All the more to be admired for that, I think," observed the German, who was evidently from this speech a " liberal/' or, perhaps, what might be called in his own country, a " rational.^' — " Is he one of the directors of the railway from Sandy Nook to Cropton Common?" continued he. " No, certainly not," was the reply ; " he knows better than to be a sharer in such a concern — Sir Stephen Devereux is the man most interested in that speculation : you know him, I think — or at least you know his daughter ? " 94 EXCITEMENT. '^ Yes, I was introduced to her at Lady Ashford^s ball, and I found her very handsome/^ " How insufferably hot London is getting now — pray, do you remain much longer in town ? " asked the elder gentleman, again changing the subject. " No, I am going down very soon into Yorkshire, to visit Sir Charles Cokeham, who has invited me to his country-seat in that county/^ "You will be in the neighbourhood of Sir Stephen Devereux, then, whose daughter will have a large fortune,^^ exclaimed the Englishman, adding, '^what an excellent opportunity you will liRve for getting a rich wife, Reichenbach : you ought to try your chance/^ " I do not want a wife,^^ replied the German, in a melancholy tone of voice, as he turned away, and now took up a book which happened to be laying on the table, thus evidently showing he liked not the tone which the conversation was taking. At this moment Spoletti, the artist, entered the room, accompanied by another gentleman, who, with the former, now joined the Englishman. EXCITEMENT. 95 Mr. Rackets, for that was the name of the latter, was a man who had the misfortune to have nothing to do; thus (being a bachelor), he spent his time principally, when in town, at the club-houses, the theatres, or other places of pub- lic resort j amusing himself with listening to all the scandalous anecdotes of the day, and in criticising the acts of Government ; generally finding fault with every thing done, it being so easy to find fault, and so pleasant to such as Mr. Rackets. When the London season was over, Mr. Rackets usually took the round of all the fashionable English watering-places, until the spring again brought him to town. He had never, ho .; ever, been abroad, as he hated foreign- ers, and believed he could get none of the com- forts of life on the continent — and Mr. Rackets liked comfort. " Have you heard," said Spoletti, addressing him as he advanced towards the table near which Mr. Rackets was sitting, " that Mr. Tremaine is going to give up his seat in parliament, and accept what you call, I think, the Chiltern Hun- dreds r 96 EXCITEMENT. '^ Is it possible V replied Mr. Rackets, adding, " and wliat the deuce then is he going to do with himself?'^ " I understood/^ joined in the other gentleman, who accompanied Spoletti, "that Mr. Tremaine meant to support Sir Robert warmly, next session ; he is an eloquent speaker, and you know our Premier is now of his way of thinking.^^ " I know a gentleman who speaks much better than Tremaine does, but on the opposite side; Mr. Crops will soon overturn all his arguments : he means to speak in favour of the Agricultural interests." " But Mr. Crop's speeches are all too statistical for me to understand ; they worry my brain to comprehend what they mean ; now, Tremaine has a flow of smooth eloquence : " "A flow of confounded humbug, you mean," interrupted Mr. Rackets — "Mr. Crops is a far more practical man, and I have no doubt he will confute Sir Robert as well as Tremaine." " No, no," replied the stranger, who was a son of the Earl of Oxminster, and a staunch admirer EXCITEMENT. 97 of Sir Robert P ; " a man like Sir Robert can- not be easily confuted." ^' Pray do you mean the Sir Robert P of last year, or the Sir Robert P of this ? for I think that the Sir Robert of this year has already confuted the Sir Robert P of last year himself, and he may change sides a third time as well." " Is a man to be blamed for changing his opinions when he finds he has been in the wrong ? — he only proves that he is wiser to-day than he was yesterday/^ "Every man of sense/^ replied Mr. Rackets, *' thinks Sir Robert was wiser yesterday than he is to-day." "There^s Dowborough, Soleby, Weston, and many others do not, for they themselves have changed their politics too, and I am sure Tremaine now admires Sir Robert, which he did not for- merly." " But you don^t mean to call Tremaine a man of sense ! " exclaimed Mr. Rackets, getting a little excited in the argument. " I wonder what sense F 98 EXCITEMENT. he has shown lately in this affair of the duel," continued he. ^' Why has he not gone off with Frazer and Denham to the continent, instead of staying here until he may have to take his trial for murder, for I am sure Dudley Seymour will not live ? Tremaine [speaks well in the house, certainly, but he wants common sense out of it ; or else he is a confounded rascal — I don^t know which." " Shall I meet you at the Opera to night ?" asked Spoletti of Mr. Rackets, now interrupting the political discourse, of which he was quite tired. " / go to the Opera ! " answered Mr. Eackets, " /, who hardly know ' God save the Queen^ from ' Rule Britannia ! ' " Here the German raised his head from his book, and murmured to Spoletti — " Ces betes d'AnglaiSf ne comprennent rien de la musique" though they fancy that they do, because they pay for it." "When they give such substantial proofs of their desire to hear it," answered the Italian, " I EXCITEMENT. 99 think they must Uke it, though they cannot make music themselves." *^ But they do not appreciate the beauties of any Opera_, until it has been so often repeated that everybody else has got tired of it/^ again ui'ged the German, adding, " that splendid Opera of 'Robert le Diable/ was not admired in London." " But, perhaps, that was because the English did not like ' Le Diable ' to be brought so much en scene" replied Spoletti with a sneer. " That could not be the reason, for ' Der Frei- schutz ^ had a very long run, and that has a great deal of Diablerie in it. ' Behsario,^ you will agree with me, they could not appreciate." " Ah si, si, vouz avez raison" replied the Itahan, assentingly; now agreeing with the German as soon as the music of his own country was the point touched upon : he afterwards added, how- ever, — " but the Queen likes Italian and German music." " Yes, she has the good taste to do so, whilst her unmusical subjects have the bad taste to won- 100 EXCITEMENT. der at it, thougli it is so natural she should, since her husband is a German, and she herself Here the two Enghshmen hearing the Queen's name mentioned, turned to join in the conversa- tion of the foreigners; but, as what they were saying was not very flattering to the English, the latter were too polite to continue it — Spoletti only asking Reichenbach ^^if he were going to sup with Madam Speitzen that night?'' — on which the German, after replying "he was not," rose and left the room. " I have been advising Reichenbach to try and get Miss Devereux for a wife," observed Mr. Rackets, after he was gone : " she will have a large fortune, and these foreigners are always on the look out for money." " I think the English are quite as bad," was Spoletti's reply; "and as for Reichenbach, he does not appear to be ^ looking out ' for anything, he is so very absent." "Is there any particular reason for his being so?" asked Mr. Rackets, who was always curious about every body's affairs, though not from feeling an in- EXCITEMENT. 101 terest in the person spoken of, but solely for the sake of having something to talk about. " Oh." repKed Spoletti, " there is some history about his having been engaged to a young lady^ and the marriage having been broken off ; I don^t know the whole particulars correctly, but I believe the affair happened lately/^ " Of course it must, as men don^t mope about those kind of things long. As Shakespeare says — ' Men have died, and worms have eaten them — but not for love.' " '' Yes,'' said the other gentleman, " Reichenbach should think with Moore, that — " When forced to be far from the lips that xve love, We have but to make love to the lips that are near." " Ah, that is a real Irish sentiment, which shows what you are," exclaimed Mr. Rackets, as he took up the ' Times,' and sat down to criticise its powerful contents. The other two gentlemen now leaving the room, the party thus separated. Ernest Reichenbach, whom we have just intro- duced to our readers, was a German both by birth and education ; who had come over to England, 102 EXCITEMENT. partly for the purpose of instructing Mmself in our language^ manners, and customs, and partly for amusement. During the first months of his residence in England, he had unfortunately im- bibed a prejudice against the English — owing, how- ever, only to his own imperfect acquaintance with their language, which made him feel constrained in their society, but which feeling, he erroneously thought, was caused by the formahty of English manners. It is strange that we should have the character amongst foreigners, of being formal and reserved in society, when, in reality, we are quite the re- verse. How this opinion originates, it is difficult to explain; perhaps it is owing to some conven- tionalities generally in use amongst us, such as that established in our society, which forbids in a public ball-room, ladies and gentlemen standing up to dance together without a previous introduc- tion. The foreigner does not see that this rule instead of increasing the formality of our society, diminishes it on the contrary; for the parties once introduced, immediately consider themselves EXCITEMENT. 103 at liberty to be on friendly terms with each other; whilst on the continent^ where a gentleman may ask any lady he meets with in public, to dance_, without a previous introduction, a certain degree of reserve must be kept up between the parties, for the temporary connexion is necessa- rily concluded at the end of the dance ; otherwise, a family composed of many young members might find their circle of friends enlarged to a most in- convenient extent. English customs are now, however, gradually spreading over the continent ; for, while we transplant those of our neighbours to our own soil, we leave the seeds of our own manners amongst them, and now the English fashion of formal introductions is more adopted by other nations. Reichenbach had frequently met Tremaine in company, and the latter, not having conceived that prejudice against foreigners which many English feel, nay even glory in feeling, had always treated the German with the same friend- liness and confidence which he would have shewn to one of his own countrymen of a like turn of 104 EXCITEMENT. mind : hence a kind of intimacy had arisen be- tween them; but Reichenbacb was^ at the time we speak of, too mucli absorbed by his own sorrows to feel any sympathy with the happy and the prosperous, which Tremaine might have been designated when they first met : thus their intimacy had never ripened into friendship, and the German had not become acquainted with the engagement existing between Tremaine and Miss Devereux. It happened, however, that after Eeichenbach had left the Club-house, as he was passing that well-known corner of Regent Street, where Swan and Edgar display their tempting stores, he suddenly encountered Tre- maine, who, looking pale and dejected, had that morning appeared again in the world for the first time since the fatal duel. As Reichenbach, therefore, had not adopted any of the opinions of the ill-natured portion of the world, against Tremaine, and feeling more sympathy with him, now that he was suffering, than he had done when he saw him in the enjoyment of aU he could wish for; he immediately held out his EXCITEMENT. 105 hand to him, and said, in a friendly tone of voice, " Tremaine, what a long while it is since I have seen you, — I hope you have not been ill ?'' Tremaine feeling that the German had ad- dressed him with real kindness, answered him in like manner, and then joined him, when both pursued their way along Piccadilly together. After talking for some time on indifferent sub- jects^ Reichenbach next asked Tremaine, " Where he was going to pass the Autumn ?" '^ I think on the Rhine," replied ^Tremaine, ^' that is, if Seymour Do you purpose going up the Rhine this summer ?" added he, interrupt- ing himself, as he wished to banish the thought of what he might have to do, if Dudley Seymour did not survive. ^' No, I travelled in that direction last year," replied the German : '' this summer I am going down into Yorkshire, to visit Sir Charles Cokeham, and shall leave town to-morrow." ''Indeed!" said Tremaine, with interest, though instead of adding any further observation he remained lost in thought for some time f3 106 EXCITEMENT. after lie had tittered that ejaculation. At last, }iowever_, he turned again to Reichenbach, and said, but in an agitated voice, •^'^As you will be in the neighbourhood of Sir Stephen Dever- eux, and therefore may see his daughter, should you have that happiness, will you beg of her from me, not to judge my conduct harshly and unheard. I have written," continued Tremaine, and was about to add, — " but Sir Stephen may not have allowed his daughter to receive my let- ter," when unfortunately he was interrupted, a gentleman calling out to him abruptly, before he had concluded his sentence — " How do you do ? glad to see you, — how^s Seymour, to-day?" Vexed as Tremaine was at this ill-timed interrup- tion, he felt obliged to reply, only, however, answering the last question, as he saw his in- quirer cared little for an answer to the others. " Unlucky business, that " — resumed the stranger. "People say Seymour won't live,— sorry for you, — but all will blow over, — never mind, — good bye ;" making which heartless obser- vations, the stranger then passed on, adding. EXCITEMENT. 107 however, to himself, " I would not like to be in Tremaine's shoes though — great fool/^ Trifling as these observations were, and rapidly though they were uttered, they nevertheless created im- portant results ; for the conference between Tre- maine and E-eichenbach being thus broken, neither of them again renewed it. This, however, might be owing to the bustle of the crowd be- coming too great to admit of the continuance of such an interesting subject of discourse, or it might be, because Tremaine did not feel sufficiently confident of the good sense and high principles of the German, to confide to him his secret thoughts on so dehcate a subject as that on which he seemed about to enter. Whatever feeling it was, however, which prevented further discourse, certain it was, that E-eichenbach still did not become acquainted with the engagement which subsisted between Tremaine and Constance Devereux; he, parting from the former, ignorant of the real meaning of the message he had been requested to convey, and imagining, likewise, that Tremaine wished to justify himself, as much to Sir Stephen as to his daughter. 108 EXCITEMENT. All must discover, sooner or later, that slight causes often produce serious consequences, and that many of the most important events in our lives have been brought about by apparently trifling accidents, over which we had no control. This must lead us to perceive, that our power over our destiny in this life is limited, though some power we undoubtedly must have, else were we but mere pieces of mechanism, made to be moved about at the will of others, with no responsibility committed to us, and no capacity for action. EXCITEMENT. 109 CHAPTEH IX. Would'st thou be singled out by partial Heav'n, The one to whom a cloudless lot is given ? Look round the world, and see what fate is there Which justice can pronounce exempt from care. Though bright they bloom to empty, outward show, There lurks in each some canker-worm of woe." The Dream. Hon. Mrs. Norton. And summer reigns in the quiet spot Where we dwell ; and its leaves and flowers Bring balm to our sister's heart, but not, Ah, not to ours." BULWEB. And the sun shone brightly, — and the birds warbled sweetly^ — and the stream murmured soothingly, — and all nature smiled ; but neither the brightness of the summer sun, nor the mur- muring of the limpid brook, nor the beauty of smiling nature, had power to soothe the agitated spirits, or chase away the melancholy thoughts. 110 EXCITEMENT. whicb. dwelt in the bosom of tbe lovely daughter of Sir Stephen Devereux. Poor Constance, the shadow of her former self, wandered amongst scenes as lovely as eye could behold, feeling that sickness of the heart which, as it destroys every pleasurable sensation in the breasts of those who suffer from it, now made her turn shudderingly away from what formerly used to give her so much pleasure to contemplate. For a long time after the fatal duel, Constance had lain on a bed of sickness, tended, however, by the gentle Kose Walton, who had watched with unremitting attention every change in the suffering patient, and had listened to her, and also had prayed for her, whenever the mind of Constance, affected by her disappointment, wan- dered in wild delirium. Kose had been assisted in her task by another kind-hearted woman ; for as Sir Stephen, with all his violence of temper, still loved his daughter, he had admitted even into his house, the formerly despised Mrs. Stanton, whose active services in a sick room he now valued, since they were useful to his suffering child. EXCITEMENT. Ill Thus Constance liad been tended, during the first weeks of her sufferings, whilst they retained her in her chamber : at length, however, a phy- sician pronouncing that a change of air might be beneficial, and also that the invalid might be removed with safety, Constance was conveyed, by easy stages, to her father's country residence. Conisborough Hall, the seat of Sir Stephen Devereux, was situated in the fertile county of York, and stood on a gentle declivity facing the south, from which there was a magnificent pros- pect of the surrounding country. In front of the mansion, which was built in the Elizabethan style, a magnificent park extended itself for some distance, which was studded with ancient oaks, shady elms, and lofty pines ; the dark branches of the latter poetically termed, by an American writer, '^ those misanthropes of the woods, re- fusing to rejoice with their brethren in their spring-tide, or mourn with them in their decay,'' still affording a splendid contrast to the bright verdure of the green turf. Beyond the park gates there was a road, and, 112 EXCITEMENT. further on, a deep valley, in which secluded spot arose the beautiful ruins of an ancient abbey, which seemed, as it were, to stand silently and mournfully as a record of the Past ; whilst, not far off, a modern-looking building of a very different character (being a railway- station), stood exhibiting itself as the work of the Present. Could the builder of that fair abbey have arisen from his grave, to behold the work of his descendants, what would have been his opinion of these innovations ? — Probably he would have thought " that the beauty of his domain was destroyed/^ Whilst, however, we mourn over the destruction of past records, and lament their departure, should we not also rejoice, that beau- ties of scenery and of country, which few could behold before, and those only in the possession of wealth, are now opened to the many, and that the laborious denizens of crowded cities are, in this day, able to refresh their weary minds with gazing at the beautiful works of nature, formerly from necessity shut out from them. In that park, then, Constance wandered, and. EXCITEMENT. 113 beside those old ruins, Constance sat and wept, — but it was alone; for she loved not others to witness her grief. She was, however, generally accompanied in her rambles by a favourite dog, who, when she sat down, used to lay his head upon her lap, and look up in her face, appearing as though he could sympathize with her sufferings. In this manner, then, did Constance Devereux pass many a long summer day, sad and solitary. And yet, wherefore, it may be asked, did Con- stance keep her sorrowful thoughts to herself? Why did she not talk of the past to the gentle Rose. The reason for her silence was this : Rose Walton having, whilst in the company of Edward Tremaine, often heard him express high-minded sentiments, and strict and honourable principles, when she heard the fact of his having been more than once at Frainoi^s gaming-house, and that he had likewise introduced his young cousin there also, considered his conduct very inconsistent, if not hypocritical ; not, however, that she went so far in her unfavourable judgment of Tremaine as to believe that he had formed a scheme to 114 EXCITEMENT. ruin Ms cousin — that was far from her unsuspicious nature to suppose — but only that he was either easily led into doing what was wrong, or of a gambling disposition, and, therefore, the sooner Constance could forget him the better. Acting upon this principle, therefore. Rose had ever discouraged her friend^s confiding her sorrows to her ; thinking the speaking of the past would only revive what had better be forgotten. Con- stance, therefore, perceiving Rosens disinclination to be confided in, shrank from forcing her con- fidence where she saw it would be so unac- ceptable. And yet, again, it may be asked, were there no other friends in whose presence poor Constance could let the tear fall unrestrained, and breathe the sigh unrepressed ? — Alas, there were none ! Mrs. Stanton, though a good and a kind- hearted woman, was unfortunately not possessed of any of the more refined feelings of our nature : it was this deficiency in her character which had first prejudiced Constance against her, which prejudice, however, Mrs. Stanton^s kindness of EXCITEMENT. 115 heart, shown by her unremitting attention to herself during her illness, had somewhat re- moved ; though, as the deficiency we have named still existed, Constance felt that Mrs. Stanton was not the kind of friend to whom she could speak on the subject of her sorrows. To her father, too, Constance was still less in- cHned to breathe a word of her own feelings, for reasons which must be obvious : Sir Stephen had, however, for some time after the catastrophe of the duel (namely, during the time his daughter was confined to her room), never mentioned any circumstance in the least alluding to the painful subject, with the exception of muttering, when- ever any liberal sentiments were expressed in his hearing, — " that the professors of such sentiments, he was sui'e, were all hypocrites." Latterly, however, after Constance had recovered sufficiently to appear again amongst her friends, he had ex- pressed himself more harshly; one day even telling Constance that ^' she should be thankful for having escaped being united to a mean-spirited hypocrite." 116 EXCITEMENT. The letter which Tremaine had written in his own defence to Constance, Sir Stephen had taken possession of himself, when she was laid on her bed of sickness ; and he, in the first outbreak of rage, on discovering from whom it came, had thrown it, unread, into the fire. It was true that this act of Sir Stephen^s was unknown to Con- stance, and thus the extent of her father's enmity against her lover was in some measure concealed ; but, as she knew that enmity existed, that know- ledge sufficed to close her lips. Thus it was, therefore, that Constance, never hearing her lover defended, and fearful of men- tioning his name to any one, lest she should hear what would be painful to her, brooded for many weeks silently and sorrowfully over the past, — the sorrow that might have been mitigated by human sympathy, weighing more heavily from the want of it. In the ever-varying scenes of life, however, it is wisely ordained that few can indulge in one train of thought, or in a life of inaction, for any length of time. Events will succeed one EXCITEMENT. 117 another, whicli, though perhaps not perceptibly acting on the tenor of our lives, yet indirectly influence their course ; at least so it happened in this case, for whilst Constance was, as before stated, silently cherishing her sorrows, an event occurred which, as it showed that her mild intercessions were required in favour of an unfortunate tenant, it led Dr. Bowman, whom we have before mentioned, and who was the Rector of the parish in which Conisborough Hall was situated, to speak to Con- stance in order to arouse her to a life of more ex- ertion. Before stating, however, whether his endeavours succeeded or not, we must say a few words re- specting the worthy pastor. Dr. Bowman, who was a man of an amiable disposition, and gifted with a clear judgment, had (though much grieved at the turn affairs had taken between Sir Stephen Devereux and Edward Tremaine) suspended his judgment with regard to the conduct of the latter, thinking that Tre- maine^s visit to Frainoi's gaming-house might be 118 EXCITEMENT. but a liasty error, affecting simply his own con- duct, and not, as Sir Stephen represented it to be, *' a deep laid plot to entrap bis cousin into doing what was to lead to his destruction/^ Holding, therefore, these opinions. Dr. Bowman had never, by a single word or even look, thrown any blame on the conduct of Tremaine; but, on the contrary, had recommended, when the sub- ject of the duel was one day introduced, that the parties engaged in it should be judged charitably. Such being the case, it was natural that this circumstance, together with the high character of the man who addressed her, should have its full weight with Constance, and incline her to accept his advice. There was, however, another circumstance which acted upon the feelings of Constance. Dr. Bowman, as well as being a good theologian, had studied likewise the human heart ; he knew, there- fore, that a dry explanation of the duties of Hfe seldom leads attention to them, and in this case, would, in all probabiUty, have no effect, unless EXCITEMENT. 119 accompanied with some stronger influence. His plan, therefore, to arouse Constance, was not in trusting to a long exhortation, nor in dilating on subjects foreign to her thoughts — the latter me- thod he considered being but suited to chase away childish griefs, and little calculated to act upon those of a deeper character. No, he knew well what should be offered with his advice, — though it was what some erroneously believe nourishes grief; others, of no effect in lessening it, — this was sympathy; the good Doctor sympathized with the sufferings of Constance whilst offering her counsel, and therefore it was that the advice was acted upon. But though Dr. Bowman thus aroused Con- stance to exertion, it was not in his power to chase away the deep-seated sorrow that still lay cor- roding at her heart — not to be removed even by his sympathizing hand. But whether the cause of that sorrow pro- ceeded most from Constance being herself con- vinced of her lover^s unworthiness, or, because she knew him to be dishonoured before the 120 EXCITEMENT. world, she never allowed to be perceptible, even nearly accomplishing the difficult task of conceal- ing entirely her grief, deep-rooted as it still was ; for — " The cheek may be tinged with a warm sunny smile. Whilst the cold heart to ruin runs darkly the while," EXCITEMENT. 121 CHAPTEE X. ' Let not ambition mock their useful toil. Their homely joys — their destiny obscure, Nor grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile, The short but simple annals of the poor." Gbay, Have I not had to struggle with my lot- Have I not suflFered things to be forgiven?" Byron. The first \-isible change in the conduct and feeHngs of Constance, effected by her conversa- tion with the good Doctor, was her repairing to the tillage school, and her becoming interested in the progress of one of the poor children who attended it. The child was a lovely little girl of about five j^ears of age, with soft, expressive blue eyes, long flaxen hair, which hung in graceful ringlets on 122 EXCITEMENT. her shoulders^ and welLformed cherry lips, whose roundness, tinted with ruby red, seemed to in- vite a kiss. Though it was the beauty of the child which first attracted the attention of Constance to her, she afterwards, finding her to be artless and endearing, was led into taking particular pains with her instruction, and also into noticing what- ever regarded her, with some interest. It having happened one day, therefore, that the little girl (whose name was Mary) had come to school decked out in a glass-bead necklace, which ill-assorted with the rest of her attire, that Constance (not approving of this foolish orna- ment), as soon as she perceived it, drew little Mary to her, and asked her " who had given her what she wore ? '' " Farder gave it to me,^^ said the little one, artlessly, "but mudder did not like me to put it on.'' "And where does your father live?'' asked Constance, thinking she would speak to the child's parents on the subject. EXCITEMENT. 123 " In the back lane, now/^ replied the child, sorrowfully, — " the big house was taken away from us/^ " And what is your father^ s name ? ^^ continued Constance, wishing to know more about the parents of her protege, after hearing that they had known better days. " Farder^s called John," was the reply — " And his other name ?" still asked Constance. Here the child stared, however, and did not reply, showing she was not acquainted with it. Constance now perceiving that Mary was too young to answer her questions, contented herself with loosening the necklace from the little girVs throat, promising her a nice little straw bonnet with a green ribbon upon it in return. Upon enquiring from the school-mistress \\'ho Mary's parents were, Constance learnt that their name was Shepherd, and that they were the same family whose cause she had pleaded the last time Tremaine had visited Sir Stephen and herself, as her lover. She further learnt that her father had ejected the Shepherd's from their farm, and G 2 124 EXCITEMENT. that now no one knew how they gained their livelihood, some hinting that it was by poaching, and other disreputable means. All pitied Shep- herd^s wife, however, who they said had known better days, and had always conducted herself well, both in prosperity and in adversity. Such being the intelligence gained, a few days after Constance had learnt these particulars, she set off, accompanied by Mrs. Stanton, to the cottage where the Shepherds' family now lived. The road led through an avenue of lofty elms, whose shady foliage sheltered Constance and her companion from the bright rays of the mid-day sun; and as they proceeded along, the birds warbled sweetly — the summer flies danced gaily, and there was a lightness in the clear atmosphere which shed a happy influence around, causing Constance even to feel less melancholy than had lately been her wont. We are often more influenced by the state of the atmosphere than we are aware of: a cloudy sky and a humid air, accompanied with the sound of a low wailing southern breeze, will sometimes EXCITEMENT. 125 depress the spirits to that degree, that without our having any particular sorrow at the moment to complain of, we may feel a morbid sensation of melancholy within us, leading us to look back on the past with vain regret, and forward to the future with utter hopelessness. Such, how- ever, was not the case on the day of which we speak, for the heart of Constance even felt lighter, as she looked at the bright blue sky and the sunny landscape ; and as benevolent thoughts too, filled her bosom, they gave her more of a hopeful and happy feeling than, as we said, she had experienced for several months. When Constance and Mrs. Stanton arrived at the cottage they sought, they found it to be a low, mean-looking dwelling, only containing two rooms, comprising a kitchen and but one bed- room ; these served for the whole family, con- sisting of Shepherd and his wife, one boy, little Mary, and another little girl a few years older. The room they entered, too, was very scantily furnished, but it being twelve o'clock, a table was placed for dinner — plates, and knives, and forks 126 EXCITEMENT. were set ready; nothing eatable however was on the table^ though something had evidently been hastily removed from before the fire, for there re- mained signs of preparation for cooking, Mary^s mother made a curtsey to her visi- tors when they entered, but looked uneasy and frightened when they each took a seat : she was a care-worn looking woman, with a timid expression of countenance which betrayed both fear and anxiety ; though at the same time a look of resig- nation was perceptible on her face she had, on the whole, an interesting appearance. Mrs. Stanton had brought the promised straw bonnet for little Mary, for she was a lady who thought it no degradation to carry a parcel, and would rather do so on such an occasion, than that a servant should accompany them. Constance likewise had brought the necklace, and now pro- ducing it, explained to Mrs. Shepherd, " that it was contrary to the rules of the school to permit any unsuitable finery to be worn.^^ To this the poor woman replied, "that it was against her wish that Mary wore it," and added, EXCITEMENT. 127 "she should never put it on again;" she then thanked Constance for her kindness and her advice, who answered in return — ^'that she hoped she should see httle Mary in her new straw bonnet at church the next Sunday." Constance then asked " if Mary's father had any permanent employment just then ? " The poor woman here looked confused,, and answered evasively, saying, " I wish John had as good work, and as nice a httle farm as he used to have before Mr. Danvers so cruelly turned him out." '^ Turned him out ! " exclaimed Constance, in reply ; " my father, I am sure, would never have allowed a tenant of his to be ejected, except for a very good reason ; I have no doubt Danvers had a very sufficient cause for what he did." " Mr. Danvers said we must go away, because we were not able to pay the rent just then ; but he might have given us more time ; we were only back half a year. It's of no use, however, think- ing more od it now," continued the poor woman, despondingly ; " I have thought and thought until my head has been fit to split — and now I am past thinking." 128 EXCITEMENT. " But 1 will see if sometliing cannot be done for you," interrupted Constance, soothingly. " Per- haps there may be a small farm untenanted, that he might occupy; or should your husband not feel himself in a situation, from want of capital, to undertake one, he might be employed in mak- ing the new road in our park." " John is not so industrious now as he used to be," murmured Mrs. Shepherd, in reply, glancing at the door as she spoke, " he has lost the way of it ; but I thank you kindly all the same, ma'am — I dare say you mean us well, but " Mrs. Shepherd was here interrupted in her speech by the sound of footsteps approaching, which sound made her pause. Soon, however, silence was broken, by the door of the cottage being opened suddenly, when two men burst pre- cipitately into the room. The first who entered was a tall thiii man, of about forty years of age, whose countenance, which formerly might have been handsome, now wore a haggard appearance ; apparently caused by want and deprivation ; his eyes were dark, and had a wild expression in EXCITEMENT. 129 them; his haii' was neglected, and hung in tangled masses on each side of his face, whilst he wore a suit of old velveteen material, which, like himself, seemed to have known better days. The man who followed him was even less prepossessing in his appearance — he was stout and of low sta- ture; he had an enormous head, rendered still larger by an immense quantity of bushy red hair ; his countenance was bloated and sinister-looking, and his whole appearance calculated to strike any one as being that of a man fully prepared for com- mitting any act of violence. As soon as the man who had first en- tered perceived Constance, he immediately fixed his dark eyes upon her, and then, after he had advanced close to the table near which she was sitting, he said, with a deep, hoarse voice — " Have you come to exult over oui' wretch- edness — have you come to look at the work of your father ? or,^' added the man in a still louder tone, " have you come to hear me curse him for hi s hard-heartedness V g3 130 EXCITEMENT. " I have not come hither for either purpose/^ answered Constance, with indignation — after- wards adding, however, in a kinder tone, as she thought of the deplorable state she saw the family in — "1 came to see if I conld ameliorate your condition; to hear if you would undertake any employment which would enable you to gain an honest livelihood : being much interested in your little girl, I wish to be of some service to you on her account/^ After Constance had thus replied, Mrs. Shep- herd stepped forward, and showed her husband the pretty bonnet which Constance had brought for little Mary. The man, who was John Shep- herd, appeared to be somewhat softened by this attention to his child, and now murmured less sternly, "Aye, aye, Mary's a good bairn, and deserves more than I can now give her." During this dialogue, the stout, sinister- looking man, had been watching the change of expression on the countenance of Shepherd, though he had kept at a distance from liim. Now, however, seeing Shepherd was softening, he walked up to him, EXCITEMENT. 131 and whispered something in his ear. On hearing what his companion said, Shepherd, evidently under his influence, immediately started up from the seat which he had taken, clenched his fist, struck the table violently, and again cried out in a loud menacing tone, to Constance — ^^ Your father has taken the bread out of the mouths of my wife and of my childi'cn, — your father has taken away from me my good name and driven me to despair, therefore now I send my curse upon him, and upon his chil — " " Oh ! not upon his child, John,^^ screamed out Jane Shepherd, as she seized one of her husband^s clenched hands, which he had raised in a menacing attitude at Constance, " not upon his child, John; for if ever there was an angel upon earth, she deserves that name.^' The violence of Shepherd^s feelings seemed to abate a little at this speech of his wife^s, though what more he might have wished to say, he was prevented expressing, as at this moment Mrs. Stanton, seeing poor Constance looking pale and trembling, and as though she were going to faint, 132 EXCITEMENT. arose, and taking her by the hand, led her out of the cottage, saying, as she did so, ^' that Miss Devereux did not come there to have her kind- ness thrown in her face." Though Constance, as soon as she got into the open air, sufficiently revived to enable Mrs. Stanton to conduct her home, when at length she arrived at her own apartment, her agitation was so great, she sank immediately down on a couch, unable to support herself any longer, and was only relieved from the agony arising from having suppressed her emotions so long, by a flood of tears. When a little recovered, it was agreed between Constance and Mrs. Stanton, that it would be advisable not to mention their visit to Shep- herd's cottage to Sir Stephen. Unfortunately, however. Sir Stephen had enquired after Con- stance during her absence, and having learnt from her maid whither she had gone, Constance, having too much truthfulness to deny having been to see the Shepherds, felt obhged to tell all, even to the consequences of her visit. EXCITEMENT. 133 The rage of Sir Stephen on hearing how his daughter had been treated, can hardly be de- scribed, every angry passion the human breast is capable of feeling, seeming aroused within him. He swore, — he stamped, — he shouted, — as if such conduct punished those who had been to blame. At last, however, he determined on a plan for being revenged, which plan was, that he would punish Shepherd for his insolence, by bringing him to justice for poaching. Sir Stephen after forming this resolution, then became calmer, though his next step was to forbid his daughter's future attendance at the village school. 134 EXCITEMENT. CHAPTER XL The memory to some is but a curse, When there is nothing- but a cheerless waste To think of, or to hope, or when remorse Gives even to the present joy a taste Of bitter past, — oh then forgetfulness Is most to be desired ; for he who's chased By gloomy phantoms of by-gone distress. Makes many a smiling scene a wilderness." E.J.J. A FEW days after the visit of Constance to the miserable cottage inhabited by- the Shepherd family, the party at Conisborough Hall received an invitation from a family whose residence was near their own, to join a pic-nic, planned to the neighbouring woods of C . Constance at first feeling unfit for gaity, declined being one of the number ; but as Sir Stephen urged her with more than his wonted earnestness to accept Lady EXCITEMENT. 135 Wilsborough^s invitation^ she therefore, in order to please him, at length complied with his request. Lady Wilsborough was a lady well able to conduct the kind of party which she proposed giving, which accomplishment, being appreciated by her husband, whose talents did not lie in that way, he left all the arrangements of the fete to her ordering. She, therefore, it was, who chose the spot for the dejeune, and she chose one well- suited for the occasion. There were, in the first place, dai'k woods to wander in, — there was a beautiful sheet of water, where boats were placed in readiness for those who found pleasure in aquatic excursions, — there were arbours erected in pretty spots, and those, too, gracefully hung with festoons of flowers, to shelter the guests, either from the too bright rays of the sun, or from the more probable misfortune, in an English climate, of a shower of rain ; in short there was everything arranged just as it ought to be, not forgetting music, so often unattainable, or for- gotten at an English fete. 136 EXCITEMENT. Lady Wilsborough, too, was wise enough to study what would add most to the comfort and pleasure of her guests, and make them the most cheerful. As she sought not to excite envy by making a display, she was not extravagant ; yet as she wished to afford amusement to every one, she was not mean. The viands, therefore, were good, the music was good, and, what pleased the gentlemen the most, the wine was good; consequently there were no head-aches the next morning; as for heart-aches Lady Wilsbo- rough could not provide against them, though had it been possible, she certainly would, for she wished that every one should be perfectly happy. As Rose Walton hoped that the spirits of her friend might be benefitted by her once more entering into society, she arrayed herself for the fite with a degree of pleasure which she had never before experienced on such an occasion. Rose, however, never indulged in an extravagant toilette, for though her fortune admitted of such an indulgence, her principles did not. She thought of the poor, when luxurious articles of dress were EXCITEMENT. 137 spread out for her choice, not deceiving herself with the false argument, that by purchasing them, she would be encouraging manufacture (which is only a pleasing supposition invented by the rich), No, — Rose Walton knew that if she spent the same sum of money on one dress for herself, which might be devoted to articles of clothing for twenty persons, she could not, by this means, be employing the labouring classes, since that would be done much more effectually by the making of the greater number of dresses, than by the manufacturing of the one. But Rose never made a parade of extreme plainness, and therefore on this occasion her dress was a robe of clear embroidered muslin, white as the delicate snowdrop : over her shoulders was cast a rich black silk mantle, and on her head she wore a white silk capote, ornamented with a simple wreath of acorns, which suited exactly the style of her pale, inter- esting countenance. Such was Rose's costume ; and as she was tall and graceful in her move- ments, thus arrayed, she looked the sweet gentle- woman that she really was. 138 EXCITEMENT. A more beautiful creature than Constance Devereux scarcely could be imagined, than as she appeared adorned for the fete about to be given. She too, like her friend, wore a white robe, but hers, according to her father^s desire that it should be handsome, was trimmed with the richest Mechhn lace, a shawl of the same light material too, hung in graceful folds from her shoulders, whilst her chapeau de paille, the dazzhng whiteness of which contrasted well with the raven ringlets which fell on each side of her face, was softened in appearance by the delicate marabout feathers which waved grace- fully from it. Beautiful, however, as Constance appeared, there was still to be perceived a melancholy expression in her countenance, as she prepared to enter into a scene of gaiety which she felt little suited to her feelings. Several of the expected guests, who were to proceed to the woods, had already arrived when Sir Stephen Devereux and his party entered the drawing-room in the mansion of the Earl of Wilsborough, where in the first instance the EXCITEMENT. 139 party had been requested to meet. Most of the company were strangers to Constance, though amongst the number she thought there Avas a gentleman whom she remembered having met with in society whilst in London, and whom she had always found very agreeable. She could not at first, however, recoUect his name, until, whilst Lady Wilsborough was conversing with her, he advanced and joined in the conversation TxOw become general, and then Constance recognised in him her former acquaintance, Ernest Reich- enbach. " AVhat a splendid day we shall have V* ex- claimed a young gentleman of a genteel appear- ance, and not seemingly deficient in esprit, but who could not invent a more novel observation just then, than a panegyric on the weather, adding, however, "Pray, at what hour do we set ofi"?^^ " All my friends have not yet arrived," replied Lady Wilsborough. " One, I fear, detained by the duties of the toilette ; but as I hear the sound of a carriage, I hope it wiU contain Lady Weston and Maria." 140 EXCITEMENT. Lady Wilsborough had hardly finished her sentence, when the door of the saloon opened, and a handsome middle-aged lady entered, ac- companied by a girl, who might be thought pretty by many, but whose beauty was consi- derably diminished by her affecting an air of extreme simplicity and innocence, which she wa6 far from possessing, and which gave a silly expression to her face. Her costume, too, Avas studied, and in the extreme of the fashion of the day, showing much time and attention had been devoted to it, whilst the young lady seemed bent also on displaying all the charms she possessed, and on gaining the attentions of as great a number of admirers as she could draw around her. Such being the char- acter of Maria Weston, after therefore gracefully saluting Lady Wilsborough, she threw herself on a couch with a languid air, exclaiming as she did so, in an affected tone of voice — " What barbarous roads there are in this part of the country ! I mean to get papa to have them all paved with wood, before I am shattered to pieces with the jolting." EXCITEMENT. 141 The young gentleman whom Maria Weston addressed,, felt obliged to laugh at this preposter- ous speech, though it had none of what Bulwer calls the requisites of amusing conversation, being neither " light, witty, nor entertaining." " AYould you not thank Heaven, Reichenbach, if you had half such good roads in your part of Germany ?" asked the young gentleman who had so anxiously proposed setting off for the woods, and who was favoured with the aristocratic name of Alfred Stanley. " I remember," continued he, "- resigning myself to instant death, once, when buried in a mountain of sand between Kiel and Travemunde." " Are those two places in China ? " lisped Maria Weston, enquiringly, affecting profound ignorance of any part of Germany not on the E/hine. " I only know, when I was laid on a sandbank, I felt anywhere but in the Celestial Empire," was the reply ; " but Reichenbach can tell you more than I can, concerning such barbarous spots — that is, if he will speak the truth about his own 142 EXCITEMENT. country, and not indulge in one of his patriotic moods." " Oh ! Is Mr. Reichenbacli a patriot ? I do love patriots so much/^ again simpered Miss Weston, now wishing to attract the German from the side of Constance Devereux, where he had placed himself: he, however, continued appa- rently deaf to the conversation on the demerits of German roads, or the necessity of showing any patriotism on the subject, and remained where he was. " I cannot see what use there is in being a patriot," replied Alfred Stanley, — " one gets nothing by it. I took up a volume of Paley, one day (when I was in a bad humour), and read therein, that 'patriotism is a sentiment never mentioned as a virtue in the Bible. ^ Since read- ing that, I have made a point of never being patriotic. Don't you think I am right. Miss Weston — especially since patriotism is becoming somewhat vulgar ? " This was said in a mock demure tone; but Miss Weston, being too stupid to understand the EXCITEMENT. 143 jokCj only replied by exclaiming, " O ! you talk so shockingly, Mr. Stanley.'' " Shockingly, Miss Weston ! you surely don't mean to say shockingly ? Ah ! I see you do not appreciate my wtuous sentiments ; that is the misfortune of my life, I never am properly appreciated by any one." Here Miss Weston, seeing there was no chance of attracting the German, thought she had better amuse herself with a little flirtation with her companion, nothing better being just then attain- able : she therefore now languishingly raised her eyes to his face^ and murmured in one of her softest tones — " Oh ! Mr. Stanley, do not say ' never ; ' I am sure I appreciate your talents sincerely, and often — " " Often admire my coats, you would add," interrupted the gentleman, not wishing the con- versation to become dangerously sentimental ; though all the time he had been conversing with Miss Weston, he had been carrying on a suc- cession of side-long glances at Rose Walton, and 144 EXCITEMENT. was only drawing out tlie folly of Miss Weston for her entertainment. " I assure you. Miss Weston/^ continued Alfred Stanley, still pursuing the amusement, though avoiding the sentimental, " I wore a coat of a new and very extraordinary texture, all one summer, and I positively led the fashion." — *^^ Which nobody followed," joined in E,ose Walton, giving him an arch look at the same time. " Now, Miss Walton, how can you say so," replied Alfred Stanley, " when you know I looked very fascinating, and that everybody thought me so." "What are gentlemen^s coats made of?" abruptly enquired Miss Weston with a simper. "Of the best buffalo skins, Miss Weston," replied Alfred Stanley to this question, very gravely, whilst he gave another glance at Rose, who with difficulty repressed a laugh. During this conversation, the young German had been talking on indifferent subjects to Con- stance : now, however, remembering the message he had promised to deliver to Miss Devereux from EXCITEMENT. 145 Edward Tremaine, he introduced the subject by saying,— " I believe, Miss Devereux, you are acquainted with my unfortunate friend, Mr. Tremaine ; I saw him a short time since, in London/^ This being the first time Constance had heard Tremaine^s name mentioned in society by one unconscious of her interest in the individual, she turned first pale, therefore, then red, her colour rising to her temples as she articulated in a low voice the sentence — " Yes, I knew him once." Reichenbach not observing her emotion, how- ever, continued, " I met him a short time after that unfortunate duel, and when I told him I was going down into Yorkshire, and should be in your neighbourhood, he wished me ^ to express his hope that you and Sir Stephen would not judge his conduct harshly, nor condemn him unheard.^ I am very sorry for him," continued Reichenbach, " he looks so truly miserable." Though Constance at that moment durst not trust herself to speak more on the subject of 146 EXCITEMENT. her lover^ slie at tlie same time felt so grateful to the kind-hearted German for the only words she had ever heard spoken, which showed any sym- l^athy with his sufferings, that when Reichenbach offered her his arm to conduct her to her carriage {the party being now in motion again), she clung for support to it as she would have done to the arm of an old friend, saying at the same time beseechingly, as she looked up into his face with a thankful expression — " I hope you will always show sympathy and kindness to the unfortunate and miserable/^ " I have felt too much myself not to do so,^^ was the reply, as Reichenbach now handed Con- stance into her carriage, which soon after con- veyed her to the luxuriant woods of C . As the names, titles, equipages, and habiliments of all the party composing Lady Wilsborough^s pic-nic, will notj we think, be interesting to the reader, we leave them to the imagination, as we deem it sufficient to say, there were assembled enough to be gay, were they so disposed, and more than enough to be sad, had any thing occur- EXCITEMENT. 147 red to make them so : of the number^ some walked, some drove, some went in the boats, some kept on land. As of the boating party, however, we mean to say something more than of the rest, though we do not mean to overturn it, but only to turn over to it, we must explain, that it consisted of Constance, Rose, and Miss Weston, Alfred Stanley, a Mr. Morrison, and Ernest Reichenbach. This party then set sail, all apparently in good spirits, for Constance even looked happy, though she was far from feeling so in reality ; not, however, that she was a deceitful character, — no, far from it, but it is woman's lot often to have to appear insincere (and consequently to be accused of being so in reality), merely because they do not parade all their feelings before a world which would misjudge them. A delicate- minded woman shrinks from a public display of thoughts, which she feels would not be under- stood; such conduct, however, proceeds not from dissimulation, but from reserv^e or sensitiveness. Yes, she wishes not to deceive, but only to be H 2 148 EXCITEMENT. more ^' en rapport " witli the ordinary interests of those who surround her; and it is but for this reason that the sigh is repressed to return to the seat from whence it came, whilst the smile replaces it to pass current in the world for joy' As the boating party danced gaily over the rippling water, which reflected back the rays of a bright August sun, one of the number, the gentle Rose Walton, whilst placidly enjoying the beauty of the scenery, as she looked at her friend, thought — "Constance will surely in this gay scene banish the remembrance of her hypocritical ad- mirer/^ Rose reasoned in this manner, however, because she had never loved ; never had experi- enced that deep-rooted trust and confidence in another, which, in the breast of woman, when once seated there, requires not only years, but even a lifetime, to eradicate ; enduring, though the object of such a feeling may have proved unworthy of inspiring it. Gentle, inexperienced Rose, there- fore, sat regarding her friend, forming a thousand plans for her happiness; but they were plans as im- EXCITEMENT. 149 practicable as the plans of youtli generally are, when not founded on experience. Her reflections were, however, not allowed to be of long continuance, she being, just as she arrived at a false conclusion, interrupted by Alfred Stanley. He and Rose had long known each other, though that circumstance had only given rise to there having become established between them a sort of good-humoured persiflage ; for Rose, though graver in her manner than most young ladies of her own age, still could enjoy hvely conversation, provided the wit was not fur- nished at the expense of the feelings of others. '' Do you think this becoming to my com- plexion. Miss Walton ? '' said her lively friend, as he held a green parasol over his head, and looked a laughing enquiry at Rose. " Oh, your complexion needs not the foreign aid of ornament,^^ replied Rose, as she started out of her reverie. " I am sorry to say I cannot say that of yours, Miss Walton,^^ answered he in a tone of mock gravity. 150 EXCITEMENT. ^^What an impertinent speech that is/^ an- swered Rose, with a good-humoured smile, show- ing she had not the vanity to think that her pale complexion was otherwise than colourless^ and also that she was gifted with the possession of a good temper, evidently attributed to her by her laughing friend. " I have been told/^ continued Alfred Stanley, " that husbands and wives often contract a look like each other; now, for that reason, when I marry, I shall take care to choose a very handsome woman for a wife in order that I may grow like her." " But perhaps your wife might grow like you," answered Rose, "and then what a melancholy thing that would be ! " As Alfred Stanley was not particularly vain, and consequently did not look much mortified at this little repartee of Rosens, Mr. Morrison, who felt highly indignant at his allusion to her pale complexion, now gravely observed, " that Mr. Stanley deserved punishing for his impertinence." " Oh, I will sing him one of my most melan- choly songs," exclaimed Rose, quickly, wishing to EXCITEMENT. 151 avert any awkwardness which might arise between the gentlemen ; " I know one which I am sure is sufficiently distressing to serve as a punishment/^ "Indeed, you could not have imagined any punishment I should feel more severely/^ sighed forth Alfi-ed Stanley, with mock melancholy, in reply, — " even now,^^ added he, " the tears are in my eyes ready to overflow/^ Rose now began to sing in a low musical voice, a sweet air, the first words of which were — " She never blamed him — never. But received him when he came." Rose had only proceeded thus far, however, when happening accidentally to turn her eyes on Constance, she saw that the face of her friend had become deadly pale, her lips compressed and colourless, and that her hand grasped convid- sively the side of the boat. Before proceeding with the events of our tale, we must pause to mention, that distressing as this interruption to the gaiety of the party proved, it had never- theless one good effect, — it at last opened the eyes of Rose, hitherto wilfully blind, to the state of her friend^ s mind, for she perceived 152 EXCITEMENT. that the emotion of Constance was caused by the words she had been singing applying to the feelings of her friend, proving that Constance stin loved Tremaine, and that she did not be- lieve, or would not blame him for what the world might allege against him. But though all these reflections passed through the mind of Rose, she, not wishing the rest of the party to be equally aware of the truth, whilst assisting Con- stance to some restoratives, took care to remark to those who surrounded her, "that she feared that it was the motion of the boat that had made her friend ill." This is ever woman's position: the high-minded Kose even felt that for the sake of her friend she must stoop ta a little deception. E/Ose, however, might have spared herself com- mitting the sin of inventing a false tale (almost justifiable though it might appear), for all in that boat saw immediately the cause of Con- stance's indisposition, all except Reichenbach, who only felt interested in the lovely suff'erer, and anxious for her recovery. EXCITEMENT. 153 Every one who has been to a pic-nic must have observed, that very often parties get wrongly associated, at least those of the party think so, who see, as was the case with Mr. Morrison, the lady with whom they wish to walk — walk off on the arm of another. Mr. Morrison thought it was from accident that on leading the boat he had failed in securing Rose Walton as his companion, beca^ise that rea- son was less mortifying to his vanity than the supposition that it arose from a manoeuvre of hers to avoid him. Mr. Morrison was a Lieutenant in a Hussar regiment, then stationed at York, and the younger son of what some people call " a good family,^^ though what they mean by that term it is difficult to decide, for it certainly does not mean being particularly good, but rather a something in the blood, which, like that of a good horse, is con- sidered pure. Mr. Morrison, therefore, was descended from either " a Saxon churl,^^ or a " Norman robber,^^ and possessed, in consequence, much pride ; as, however, he was not equally h3 154 EXCITEMENT. gifted with riches, he very wisely concealed the admiration he felt for Eose Walton. When they first became acquainted, Kose had, it is true, indulged in a little innocent flirtation, that is, if it can be considered innocent to listen complacently to exaggerated compliments, look- ing all the time as though you believed them. As it is not very easy to define exactly what a flirtation is, or what a compliment is, we will leave that question to be decided by others, only hoping that the latter is only an exaggerated fact, and not a complete falsehood, and that listening to such facts is very innocent, for, as we said before. Rose listened — but only for a while. There is a diff'erence between a temporary indulgence in the amusement of what is called flirting, and a systematic one, the latter, however, which is coolly and perseveringly to endeavour to engage the affections of another without ever meaning to return them. Rose was incapable of doing, and therefore some called her ^^Prude,^^ and said, " she did not know how to retain a lover '" but Rosens conduct proceeded not from EXCITEMENT. 155 prudery, but from principle, and from having seen at an early age the consequences of a heartless flirtation. When Eose was yet a girl, she had a friend who was a few years her senior ; this friend was to all appearance beloved by one who professed deep attachment, but who, alas ! only professed ; for though he confided to the object of his vows his thoughts and feelings, and required her con- fidence in return, and although he reproached her if ever she appeared to listen to the voice of another, and thus appropriated her affections to himself, yet as soon as he thought he had gained her heart, he left her, to offer the same attentions elsewhere. The bloom then faded from the cheek of Rose Walton^s friend, her air became languid, her form less round; which appearances continuing to increase, by degrees a fearful change had taken place in her whole aspect. Another year, and the grave closed over her once lovely form, and that too in a foreign land, whose balmy breezes had failed to invigorate her sinking 156 EXCITEMENT. frame, or rather to cure that sickness of the heart, over which no cKmate has any power. The remembrance of this mournful history was ever present to the mind of Rose Walton, and checked her when, in the innocent excite- ment of her joyous spirits, she felt tempted to return glance for glance. Thus Rose caused few to suffer disappointment through the gratification of her vanity ; for until she felt within her own heart a sentiment of sincere love, she would not seek to excite such a feeling in the breast of another. It was this determination, then, which induced Rose, on landing, to avoid Mr. Morrison, and to accept the arm of Ernest Reichenbach, for this sweet girl took her principles with her every- where, — even to a pic-nic. Reichenbach and Rose, therefore, pursued their way, notwithstanding the sundry glances of Mr. Morrison, through flowery pastures and groves of shady trees, such being the nature of the road leading to the spot where they expected to join the parties in the carriages. Reichenbach, how- EXCITEMENT. 157 ever, was inclined to be silent, a something light as the summer wind having brought back to his remembrance, perchance, some visions of the past; for " Slight withal maj be the things which bring Back to the heart the weight which it would fling Aside for ever," Thus he and Rose walked together in silence ; at last Reichenbach, however, broke it, by asking softly, '^'^if Miss Devereux was an invalid, and suffered much V " She has not been used to the excitement of seeing company, lately,^^ replied his companion, "for she has led a very retired hfe since her severe illness." "Would it be indiscreet to ask," continued Reichenbach, in his foreign accent and mode of expression, " if Miss Devereux has been ill in body or in mind ?" As Rose was too prudent to betray her friend's secrets to a comparative stranger, this question she answered evasively, saying, "that she had often noticed, that what affected the one, gene- rally influenced the other." 158 EXCITEMENT. '^ Yes/' replied Reiclienbach, ^^ bodily and men- tal sufferings are often reciprocal — the one acts in a mysterious manner upon the other. We hear_, perhaps, something of an unpleasing nature, — the heart immediately begins to beat violently, from sympathetic emotion : the reverse too may happen — nay, does often happen; for what is more common than to see people sink into a state of morbid melancholy, simply from physical causes. But of all sufferings those of the mind are the greatest — at least I have felt so — still feel so.^' " Perhaps, because you have never experienced any other,^^ thought Rose, as she looked at the strong, healthy appearance of her companion, though she only said, " the misery of the day, however, ceases to be the misery of the morrow, so much are we acted upon by the passing scene/^ Rose remembered how much she had suffered on the loss of her friend, and how her anguish had passed away, leaving a remembrance, it is true, but no longer painfully mournful, except when dwelt upon in the solitude of her own chamber, or in the melancholy twilight hour. EXCITEMENT. 159 I But as the broad mid-day sun, which now shone, was not congenial to the dwelling on subjects of a mournful interest, Reichenbach and Rose soon fell into a more lively discourse. The former had travelled much, and could well describe what he had seen, an accomplishment not necessarily following the mere fact of having passed through different countries. A man of observation, possessing a good flow of words, being able to amuse his auditors more by describing what he has seen, even should it only have been an Irish hovel, than another without obser\'ation or eloquence, who has visited what- ever is beautiful in the four quarters of the globe. Were the art of conversation taught as a sci- ence, it might be of infinite advantage to society, notwithstanding the accusation that one sex lay to the other, of talking a great deal too much as it is (which sex might probably for that reason object to any such science being cultivated). We think that the repetition of such facts as, " It is a very fine day,^' or " if clouds 160 EXCITEMENT. arise, there will probably be rain," might be abandoned altogether, as well as the censuring the conduct of our neighbours, the one neither affording amusement or instruction, which ought to form the basis of conversation, and the other, though more interesting, still more objectionable, owing to possible consequences. Rose Walton, however, as she walked with Reichenbach, listened to neither prognostications of rainy days, nor to petty details of others, failings. The young German spoke of countries he had visited, and described what he had seen in them, amusing and interesting Rose by his recitals. • From conversing on nations, they proceeded next to speak of their inhabitants, thence to politics, and from politics to "Punch," each coming to the conclusion, that that gentleman^s mode of treating the actions of politicians was both the most amusing, and the most clear- sighted, by the time they arrived at the end of their walk, which terminated in their again meeting the rest of their party. EXCITEMENT. 161 Mrs. Stanton, as soon as she saw tlie pale countenance of Constance, pronounced it indis- pensable she should immediately take something to revive her, and therefore hastened, glass in hand, to administer what she considered was a remedy against sickness. Though poor Constance was not suffering from that kind which Mrs. Stanton prescribed for, the remedy, nevertheless, had the effect of enabling her to sit down and join the merry party assembled, who now set about to demolish poulets and partridges, turkeys and truffles, mionaisses and pdtes de foi gras. Who, however, could guess, whilst contemplating the gay scene around, the under-currents of feeling which agitated the breasts of some of that party, where as all, but more especially the gentlemen, seemed to be intent only upon making a quantity of viands disappear as rapidly as possible. Bulwer says truly, that "There are two hves which belong to every one, — the life of the mind, and the life of the actions ; that the first is never guessed, but that the last is apparent to every one." 162 EXCITEMENT, The jest, then, and the laugh, went joyously around, as though in the world there were no aching hearts, and no fevered brains ! At last, as the sun began to decline, and to shed its golden evening rays around, the party all felt a desire to seek their homes, for sooth to say, they had become weary of each other's company : conversation flagged, for people may talk, but they cannot converse all day, and this had been felt by some to be a long one. Carriages and coursers, shawls and cloaks, there- fore, became now in requisition. It was dis- covered, moreover, that Reichenbach's steed had become lame, which though an awkward accident, perhaps his master was not sorry for that circum- stance, as, in consequence. Sir Stephen offered him a seat in his barouche (Mrs. Stanton remaining, to pay a visit to Lady Wilsborough) . Sir Stephen's carriage was the first to drive off, though in a short space of time the rest of the party followed, leaving the scene of their meeting to sink again into silent loneliness. But though nature resumed the same aspect EXCITEMENT. }63 it had worn the evening previous, not so the feelings of the party that had been assembled in that retreat. Often do conversations which seem to be trifling, and events apparently of no im- portance, lead to unlooked-for results. Is there, then, any word or deed, — nay, even thought, un- important ? Are there, then, any actions which lead to no consequences ? Does chance or accident ever bring to pass what perhaps destroys the happiness of many ? Surely no ! We must leave, however, the first results of the pic-nic for the next chapter. 164 EXCITEMENT. CHAPTER XII. A record of the inward world, whose facts Are thoughts and feelings— fears, and hopes, and dreams. There are some days that might out-measure years ; Days that obliterate the past, and make The future of the colour which they cast, — A day may be a destiny; for life Lives in but little A look,— a word,— and we are wholly changed." Diary of a Week. The road which led from the woods of C to Conisborough Hall, was not of the best de- scription, therefore, often the carriage which con- tained Sir Stephen and his party, was jolted from one side of the road to the other, like the pendu- lum of a clock; when this occurred, Constance na- turally became alarmed, for her nerves had become unstrung by her late mental and bodily sufferings. EXCITEMENT. 165 and tlie uneven motion made her feel timid and anxious. Tliis movement went on for some time, until suddenly the carriage came in contact with the corner of a house, which projected forward into the road ; there was in consequence a loud crash, and then it suddenly swung down on one side. Constance now uttered a scream, and seized hold of the arm of the person next to her, which happened to be that of Reichenbach ; Rose, how- ever, retained her presence of mind, and uttered not a sound, whilst Sir Stephen kept swearing at the driver for what he called his stupidity. As none of the party relished lying in the dust, which is by no means an interesting position in which to be placed, the first thing necessary to be done, was to extricate themselves from their un- pleasant situation. Reichenbach, therefore, as soon as he was able, jumped out of the carriage, and then assisted the ladies to descend likewise j he then used his exertions, with the help of the footman and coachman, to raise the prostrate vehicle ; all their efforts, however, proved vain — the axletree was broken, so it was useless to think 166 EXCITEMENT. of the party again entering the carriage. What was now to be done ? was the next question. Reichenbach proposed that the coachman should mount one of the carriage horses, and bring an- other conveyance ; but Constance, knowing that they were not more than two miles from home, insisted upon walking, as the evening was beauti- ful, and she was convinced that the exercise would do her good. After some discussion her plan was acceded to, and all the party set off on foot, Constance leaning on the arm of Ernest Reichenbach. When sympathy of feeling exists between two individuals, and circumstances occur to develope the expression of it, the barriers of cold reserve are soon broken down. We have said before, that the broad sun-light, being unfavourable to the expression of sentiment, the conversation be- tween Rose and Reichenbach had fallen gradually into narrative and fact ; but now the sun having set, no longer did its bright exhilirating rays dispel gloomy thoughts ; the stars alone looked down from their lofty throne, and they shone with EXCITEMENT. 167 a melancholy lustre on two beings, suffering equally from disappointment in their dearest hopes, and therefore it was but natural that, under their silent gaze such beings should express senti- ments congenial to them both, and that those sentiments should have for their tenour, the vanity and uncertainty of all earthly hopes — the impossibility of happiness being attainable on this side of the grave, and that even beyond it, neither could conceive perfect felicity unless united to those whom they had loved on earth. Constance listened and assented to what the young German said on those subjects, until he suggested the possibility of non-recognition in that future world, obsendng, " We see even here, that those who have loved each other sincerely, but who have by death or other causes been separated, forget, in the course of years, what they once felt, and almost cease to regret that separation." " Those who have changed so rapidly in their feelings, have either never loved deeply, or not possessed woman^s feelings," replied Constance 168 EXCITEMENT. warmly, as her own on that subject convinced her, that where sincere attachment exists, all does not end here. '^And do you never give men credit for possessing true faith and constancy ?^^ asked Reichenbach in reply, avoiding, by the question, disputing on the subject of non-recognition, as he saw it would be painful to his fair companion to listen to his doubts. " I ought not/^ answered Constance, " upon your own assertion, for you denied the existence of such qualities, and it must be your own experience of the truth of what you have alleged, which causes you to draw such a conclusion/^ Though Constance only meant to make a general observation, and was far from intending anything personal by what she said, she yet saw it had an immediate effect upon her hearer, whose conscience told him, that at that moment the present hour was obliterating the memory of the past, and who therefore gave no direct reply, but turned the conversation to a different subject. '^How seldom a person is to be met with,^^ EXCITEMENT. 169 observed lie^ '^ who really feels an interest in, or listens (except from politeness) to the sentiments of another." " Yet we sometimes complain without sufficient cause, of the coldness of friends and their want of interest in us," replied Constance ; " and this arises in my mind, from our expecting them to feel more for us, than we do for them : wc sym- pathize not fully in their sufferings, but yet we expect them to feel for ours, or it may be, that we give them not our own confidence, and yet expect them to give us theirs." Reichenbach mused a few moments on these remarks, and then said assentingly, " I believe you judge rightly." "And yet want of trust," added Constance, *^^ often arises from the extreme sensitiveness of our feelings, which prevents our expression of them, we fear being misunderstood, and there- fore remain silent." " But that very fear, is it not frequently caused by our seeming, or rather nominal fiiends' showing little interest in our affairs, and by our I 170 EXCITEMENT. own conviction, that our thoughts have met with no response." " Still," replied Constance, " the response may- have been felt within, for friends may at times refrain from showing as much interest in us as they really feel, through fear of their interest wearing only the appearance of idle curiosity." " You are disposed to take a favourable view of human nature. Miss Devereux," replied Reich- enbach, smiling as he spoke ; adding, however, more gravely, " we Germans are inclined to judge the heart of man with more severity, and to attribute the prevalent want of sympathy which we show with the joys or sorrows of others, to our extreme selfishness, which makes us not take interest in any event which has no connexion with our own personal interests." " And is mankind then so selfish, and must we really distrust every one ? " mournfully ejacu- lated Constance, as her thoughts at that moment wandered to Edward Tremaine, thus proving her companion's argument to be true : as she herself felt most interest in those observations, made by EXCITEMENT. 171 Reichenbacli wLich struck a chord still vibrating in her own bosom. "I should hope we need not mistrust every one," answered Reichenbach, energetically, as he, in his turn, applied the observations to his own state of mind, rather than to that of Constance, whose confidence he felt just then most desirous to win. '^And I sincerely hope that you may never have cause to distrust others,^^ continued the German, ^^for perhaps it is after all, because I may have suffered more than you, or the generahty of the world have, that makes me reason thus gloomily." ''Perhaps less," thought Constance, — but she was a woman, and the utterance of her thought, rose not to her lips. "Authors alone have the advantage of making themselves fully kno^\Ti to the world," continued Reichenbach ; " many feelings may be expressed in writing, which never find an escape, but through that medium : we fear to confide them personally, lest those of our hearers, how- ever sympathizing at times, may not at the I 2 172 EXCITEMENT. moment of our reciting our pains or pleasures, be in unison with our own ; but tbe writer hopes that his page will only be read when the spirit of the reader is so concentrated on the study, as to fit him for sympathy with what is written, and that (reading, perhaps, only what answers to his own ideas) may give the writer credit for perfect union of sentiment with himself, which personal intercourse might destroy ; our every-day actions being frequently in contradiction to our habitual course of thought." ^^ Perhaps that is one of the reasons why there are so many writers," replied Constance as- sentingly ; " but I think I can add another, which is, the wish we all feel to leave behind us some memorial of our thoughts, and of the principles of our actions when we ourselves are laid in the grave. How much more vividly we can recall the remembrance of a lost friend by reading one of his letters, than we can by looking at a trinket which he has worn ; for the former has somewhat of the impress of the mind stamped upon it, whilst the latter is but a material o])ject." EXCITEMENT. 173 "And what a satisfaction it must be to an author/^ observed Reichenbach, " to feel that he has in any way added to the amount of human knowledge." " And yet if I were one, I should only feel satisfaction, if I had written what might improve the hearts or minds of my readers; for how dreadful it must be, on a death-bed, to think, that we have sent forth into the world what may prove injurious to the mind of another." "I should think that few of our modern French writers are troubled with any such reflections," repHed Reichenbach, smiling as he spoke ; " for if they were, we should then be given fewer horrible and exaggerated pictures of human life, which only lead those who read them to believe, that as they feel themselves to be far from being so wicked as the imaginary characters there described, they consequently must be all that is virtuous." As Constance Devereux had not (like the lady in " Tancred") guanoed her mind by reading French novels, she could not thoroughly enter 174 EXCITEMENT. into the truth of this remark; further conversa- tion, however, on the subject was arrested after these observations by Reichenbach, and his companion arriving at that moment, before the latter could offer a reply, at Conisborough Hall. Very different were the ideas that bad been formed as to the distance the party had walked, by each individual composing it; and had they been asked, each would have given an enquirer an opinion at variance with the rest of his party. Reichenbach thought it was not quite a mile : Rose, who had been listening to the grumblings of Sir Stephen the whole way, thought it fully three miles ; whilst Sir Stephen himself, who was thinking of his broken carriage, declared it to be "a confounded long way ; " and in this opinion we fear that some of our readers may agree with him, who may have thought the conversation be- tween Constance and Reichenbach too sentimental, as well as too long. Leaving, however, the discus- sion of the distance for the present, we would here observe, it is this rash manner of judging EXCITEMENT. 175 which causes such a variety of opinions to be expressed on the same subject ; for instance, we perhaps ask two of our friends if some watering- place which we wish to visit, is pretty, or gay, or a desirable sojourn : we hear from one that it is " detestable," but from the other — '' that it is the most lovely spot on the face of the earth." Per- haps the first informant had the misfortune to be there in rainy weather, or in uncomfortable lodg- ings, — or he did not meet with the friends he ex- pected ; therefore, as it was not agreeable to him, he condemned it without considering that these circumstances only acted upon himself, and but in a temporary manner, having nothing to do with the character of the place. The second might have experienced the reverse of all this, and have been thus led into giving an equally exagge- rated account in favour of the same place which the other had disliked. Thus, each would mislead, and would, like Rose and Reichenbach, judge from his own feelings. But to return to the walk : whatever the real length of it might have been, which perhaps the coachman alone could correctly 1 76 EXCITEMENT. decide, (being iminfluenced by feelings foreign to the subject), its termination was the commence- ment of ReichenbacVs first introduction to Conis- borough Hall, which first visit, our readers may guess from what has been related, he did not allow to be his last. EXCITEMENT. 177 CHAPTER XIII. Oh, what are we, Frail creatures that we are, that we should sit In judgment man on man ! and, what were we If the All-merciful should mete to us With the same vigorous measure wherewithal. Sinner to sinner metes ! " Southey's Roderick. One dark rainy night, in the middle of Sep- tember, a short time after the pic-nic party, two miserable-looking men sat at the hour of mid- night in the desolate room in the cottage of John Shepherd, which we described before. It now, however, looked more cheerless than it did even then, for the dying embers of a fire which glowed on the hearth gave them their only light, and even seemed to add but to the gloom by making dark- ness visible. One of these men, at the time we i3 178 EXCITEMENT, mention, was recounting to the other a long liistory of grievances from which he had been suffering, and was cursing the author of them. It was the same stout, red-haired man whom we have before described, and his companion was the unfortunate John Shepherd. " They kept me on bread and water,^^ continued the former, in a muttering tone to the latter, " and the bread was so dry, I could hardly eat it ; but I will have my revenge — yes, my deep re- venge on the man who sent me to starve in that miserable jail ! '^ ^^ How the rich grind down the poor ! ^' replied Shepherd, as he stirred up the nearly extinct fire, " that same man could not wait for his rent for- sooth, when the storm had scattered away my means of paying it ; — no, he must have his money imme- diately, though he wanted it only for his fine French wines, and for his lacqueys^ flashy liveries, whilst I and my bairns wanted it for bread and for clothing/^ " Does your wife know what we think of doing T' enquired the red-haired man (whose name was Richard Jones) of his companion. EXCITEMENT. 179 " No, for I did not tell her, as I know she would be sure to blab if I did/^ answered Shepherd : " women are always faint-hearted creatures, and that proud lass, the daughter of you know who, quite came over Jane with her ' condescension,^ as she called it. Pretty condescension indeed ! I hke justice better." " But can you keep the secret from her ? " asked Jones, in a tone of doubtful enquiry. *' I hope to do so, but I am afraid she has begun already to suspect something," said Shepherd. " To-day she was telHng Mary ' that she should always love the lady who taught her to read, and pray that no harm might ever come near her.^ " '' Chicken-hearted fool ! " muttered Jones, but not loud enough to be heard by Shepherd, for he knew the latter loved his wife too well to bear to hear her scoffed at by another; he added aloud, how- ever — " And so your wife thinks that Mary^s being taught to read is such a good thing? but that^s not my opinion, I can tell you ; for though /never was taught to read, and though you were, yet Where's the difference between us now, since we're both starving, as I guess ? " 180 EXCITEMENT. " We'll soon have a good fire to warm our- selves by, at any rate, though we cannot cook by it/' replied Shepherd, with an ironical smile. " And I'll be hanged if I don't get a few bottles of wine, or brandy too, to keep my heart up," answered Jones. " That's not what I want," muttered Shepherd, in reply, " I would not touch a drop of anything of his ! — no, no, — revenge for me, but no stealing ; I only wish to punish the oppressor, as the law won't without money, and I have none to get justice with." " I suppose it's your reading and writing which makes you so sticklish about taking a few bottles of brandy," answered Jones ; ^' well, no matter, you may do as you like ; I'm not so nice, that's all — but pray have you fixed the time yet ?" "Yes, I have," replied Shepherd — "the day after to-morrow is the time I have chosen." " Well then, Wednesday is the night for action !" cried Jones, exultingly, and then added — " I hope the moon will have a nightcap on, as there will be plenty of hght without hers. Have you another EXCITEMENT. 181 drop of gin, Shepherd/' continued he, " to keep out the damp air ? for it is pouring in torrents, and I must away now/' As Jones said this he started up on his feet, and after tossing off a glass of pure spirit, which Shepherd poured out for him, he left the cottage, closing the door after him as noise- lessly as possible. Shepherd now drew near to the fire, poked again at the embers, and then leaning his head on his hands, he mused for a long time on the act he was going to commit. Yes, this man meditated the commiss'on of a fearful crime — a crime that would stand up awfully against him in the day of judgment ! And yet it may be asked, why did he pui'pose commit- ting this crime ? In answer, we must explain, it was because he had been unjustly dealt with, and as by such injustice he was driven to despair and starvation, instead of submitting patiently to adversity, trusting in an over-ruling Providence, he stifled the warnings of his conscience (which told him he was wrong), by the false reasoning, that as he considered he was only about to punish 182 EXCITEMENT. the oppressor^ he was not planning a crime ; thus foolishly considering himself qualified to adminis- ter justice, forgetting that he had no authority to do so, and that, if every one acted on the same principle, we should soon return to a barbarous state, and that violence and rapine would reign through the land. But though we say Shepherd was undoubtedly mistaken in his reasoning, and consequently criminal in his intentions ; still he could bring forward some excuses for them. But could the man who drove him on to sin say the same ? No, for Sir Stephen Devereux, whilst in the enjoyment of every comfort and every luxury, and though he wanted nothing that the world could ofi'er, yet could deprive an unfortunate man of the means of gaining bread for himself and for his family, merely for the sake of gratifying his revengeful feelings. We must explain, however, what his conduct had been. It chanced that Shepherd^s inability to pay his rent, happened at a time when Sir Stephen was more than usually irritated against every one, being shortly after his quarrel with Tremaine. EXCITEMENT. 183 This circumstance, therefore, led Sir Stephen into acting with more than usual severity ; commis- sioning Dan vers to eject Shepherd without giving him due notice, thus overstepping the limits of the law. The scene at the cottage was the consequence. The desire for vengeance after that event, took full possession of the breast of Sir Stephen ; he fol- lowed up, therefore, his former conduct, by now causing to be inflicted on Shepherd severe punish- ment for poaching; into which crime, Shepherd feeling he had been led only from positive want, caused by Sir Stephen's previous conduct, he con- sidered it particularly hard to endure. Thus it was that Sir Stephen's evil passions prepared for himself what the ignorant often erroneously call " a judgment ;'' but which is in reahty only a consequence of sin — for judgment will not be executed here, but hereafter, when there will be " Woe to that man from whom the offence cometh.'' We must now, however, leave John Shepherd to his meditations, and change the scene to the dwellings of the rich, to observe the difference. 184 EXCITEMENT. It has often been remarked, that the rich have as many cares and sorrows as the poor, and are often as deserving of pity. Still we should re- member, before agreeing to that remark, that though the rich are not exempt from misfortunes, that the poor have not only all the same causes of sorrow, but they have the misery of poverty added to them ; in some cases, it is true, the poverty is so great as to overwhelm all other sorrows, and thus may be said to diminish the number : for whilst the latter, perhaps, are weeping over the loss of friends, the former, when they lose theirs, almost rejoice at their escape from what to them was only a world of woe; yet such rejoicing can- not be called happiness. — Again, in sickness, a trial which both the rich and the poor have to endure, how greatly the suiFerings of the one are alleviated by the blessing of wealth, whilst those of the other remain unrelieved, and are often aggravated by the want of it. The disputes which arise between parties who are ill-assorted in their union, are always in- creased by the want of the means of existence. EXCITEMENT. 185 Poverty, too, has likewise often driven away love, where it did exist, but where it burnt with too feeble a flame to shine on through deprivation and misery. I speak not here of griefs of our own creating, many complaining of such who have no right to do so. Some call themselves poor merely because they have not the means to cover their tables with the same luxuries that their neighbours possess, nor are able to make so great a display of rich de- coration, or of costly viands. This, however, is not poverty, nor ought it to be called by that name, it being in reality only a feeling of envy at the greater prosperity of others ; which, as such is the case, they who suffer thus demand neither our sympathy nor our assistance ; too many having a right to claim both, who from falling, by re- peated misfortunes, from affluence into poverty, have sunk gradually into a state of wretchedness and despair. 186 EXCITEMENT. CHAPTER XIV. " There is nothing so revolutiocary, because there is nothing so unnatural and convulsive to society, as the strain to keep things fixed, when all the world is, by the very law of its creation, in eternal pro- gress ; and the cause of all the evils of the world may be tracetl to that natural but most deadly error of human indolence and corruption, — that our business is to preserve and not to improve. It is the ruin of us all alike, — individuals, schools, and nations." Dr. Arnold. But to return to the dwelling of the rich. — About three days after the conference in Shep- herd^s cottage, a party were assembled in the large wainscoted dining-room in the mansion of Sir Stephen Devereux, to partake of a splendid banquet. It was a very different looking apart- ment from the one we last mentioned in the dwelling of the poor, for there was nothing lacking in the house of the landlord, however desolate was that of his tenant. EXCITEMENT. 187 The guests, too, were very dissimilar in cha- racter and appearance from the one who sat by the poor man's hearth, being, not like him, upon evil thoughts intent ; indeed all were apparently disposed to be very amiable in their feelings towards each other, though whether that circum- stance ai'ose from their perfect knowledge of each other's character, or from the contrary, would be difficult to decide ; probably, however, the last, as could we see into each other's hearts, om* opinion of our neighbours would seldom be improved ; at least it is to be feared that only the gentler sex would be gainers by the inspection. The guests being nearly the same as those who had assembled at the pic-nic, we need not describe them, with the exception of two, who, as it was owing to their amiabihty that there was no dispute with Sir Stephen, should be mentioned particularly. The Earl of Wilsborough was of the same politics as Sir Stephen, that is, he was a Conser- vative ; but the Earl being an amiable man, did not, like Sir Stephen, speak contemptuously of 188 EXCITEMENT. his poorer brethren, though he, too, was an enemy to education, and thought likewise that the lower classes should he kept in ignorance and subjection. The other guest. Sir Charles Cokeham, who was a neighbouring baronet, leaned to opposite opinions, but being good- tempered, and of rather a facetious turn, he contrived, too, to avoid all quarrelsome dispu- tations, by turning into a joke, even his own opinions, when opposed to those with whom he was conversing. The conversation of the party during dinner, however, was of a light description, the guests being then too busy discussing soup, and fish, roast beef, and partridges, to discourse upon graver subjects. First, Doncaster races were mentioned — Alfred Stanley lamenting their de- cline; then the improvements at S , a neighbouring watering-place, formed another topic of conversation, Lady Cokeham, the wife of the jocose baronet, proposing to Constance to visit it during the autumn. Sir Stephen, however, asked the Earl of Wilsborough, if he 'excitement. 189 did not think the railway from Sandy-nook to Cropton-common, was not one of the best invest- ments for capital before the public ? to which query the Earl hesitated making a reply, his opinion probably differing from that expressed by the baronet. This conversation was, however, interrupted by the servants removing the dinner ; when, after that troublesome, noisy operation was concluded, the Earl of Wilsborough asked Sir Stephen, in an enquiring tone, "What he meant to do with regard to a subscription set about for erecting a large new school-house, as the old house was pronounced to be too small for the accommodation of the scholars ? ^^ " I shall not subscribe a single sixpence,^^ re- plied Sir Stephen, " for I do not see why we should educate the lower classes ; since they were much better behaved, and much happier formerly, before there was so much said about educating them.'' " I do not know when the time was, that the lower orders were so much better in their conduct 190 EXCITEMENT. than they are now/^ observed Sir Charles Coke- ham. " Pray, can you tell me if it was in the time of the first French Revolution, or, previously to that, in the reign of George the Second?" " Ah, Sir Charles, I know you would like your butler to know mathematics and astronomy," rephed the Earl, "but my opinion is, that the education of the poor should be limited to reading, which I think is perhaps necessary that they should be able to do," added he, as he thought of the well-known speech of the third George. " But would not many a poor man be preserved from extreme poverty, were he to know arith- metic too, and likewise be able to write, in order to keep accounts?" observed Dr. Bowman, who was one of the party; "for even a common labourer should know how to calculate his ex- pences, and fit his expenditure to his receipts. I agree with you, however, that astronomy and mathematics should not be taught at the public expense, for the mass of the people should be given necessary instruction, in preference to raisiug a few from their own station." EXCITEMENT. 191 "And what do you call teaching labourers reading and writing, but taking them out of theii' proper station, and placing a dangerous power in their hands?" exclaimed Sir Stephen, who was now getting a little iiTitated. "The power would only be dangerous," ob- served the Doctor, in reply, " in the case of sound reUgious principles being omitted to be instilled into the mind, along with the instruction afforded, which omission I hope will never be permitted." " I caught my butler looking up at the stars with a scientific look, the other night," said Sir Charles, laughingly, " and I thought he was much better doing that than drinking my wine." " Ignorance surely can never be commendable," observed Mr. Morrison, who being a gentleman of the ultra-liberal party, wished the education of the poor to be carried to a great extent. " Do not we feel," added he, therefore continuing the argument, "that when we have given a fellow- creature any information that proves useful to him, however trifling, that we have conferred a benefit on him? and shall we not still more 192 ' EXCITEMENT. feel, that if we give him the means of acquiring still more useful information, by having him taught to read, that we shall confer a yet greater benefit on him ? though we must not stop there, for reading is useless unless knowledge is gained, and who can say what truths ought not to be known, or where the progress of human intelli- gence should be checked? I am sure, Reichenbach, you will support me in advocating the universal spread of education amongst all classes/^ " One of our favourite mottos," replied Reich- enbach, " is that Wissenschaft herrscht immer uber unwissenheit, and I remember that I agreed with Bulwer in the opinion which he expressed in one of his earlier works, that ^ There exists not upon earth one prejudice that can be called salutary, or one error beneficial to perpetuate ! ' " At this speech Sir Stephen^ s brow darkened, which caused Constance, on seeing it, immediately to rise, she thinking that by rising she would pro- bably divert any angry reply which might proceed from his lips, for Constance too well remembered EXCITEMENT. 193 the consequences of the last conversation of the kind which had occurred in her hearing, not to dread a repetition. Her movement, however, had the desired effect, for it put an end to the discussion of the dangerous subject on which they were engaged, as when the gen- tlemen had again seated themselves, Dr. Bowman immediatelv besran another. Difficult as it was for Dr. Bowman to hit upon any topic quite congenial to the feehngs of Sir Stephen (so dia- metrically opposed were they to each other), yet as he recollected that Sir Stephen had lately made the purchase of a large new telescope, and had only just received it, this he thought a safe subject to enter upon; so he asked his host, "If his new purchase had given him satisfaction V " It has a very strong magnifying power,^' was the reply, " and as I think a sight of the wonders it reveals may afford some gratification," added Sir Stephen, "the night looking clear, after coffee we will, if you please, gentlemen, adjourn to my little observator\\" K 194 EXCITEMENT. ^^I shall put myself in proper vein for the occasion,^' said Alfred Stanley to Reichenbach. " What a glorious sight it must be to gaze on all the firmament at once, and see everything on a large scale ! '' "You are deceived, if you think you can see the whole expanse of the heavens at once/^ re- plied the German, who was more conversant in astronomy than the gentleman who addressed him; "for the atmosphere round each planet is so much magnified, that you can only grasp the view of perhaps not more than one at a time; the fixed stars too, being scarcely increased in size, you cannot see them on a very large scale/^ " What insignificant creatures we all sink into, in comparison with the universe," observed Mr. Morrison, " and what folly it is in us to think, that each of the actions of such atoms in creation as we are, should be known and directed by the Author of Nature ! " "And why should they not?" replied Dr. Bowman; "you should read Dr. Chalmer^s Dis- courses on that subject, as he clearly points out EXCITEMENT. 195 that your reasoning is false. ' If/ says he, ' the telescope told me of the insignificance of the world I tread on, the microscope redeems it from all its insignificance; for it tells me that in the leaves of every forest, and in the waters of every rivulet, there are worlds teeming with life, and numberless are the glories of the fir- mament. By the telescope, men have discovered that no magnitude, however vast, is beyond the grasp of the Divinity; but by the microscope, we have also discovered that no minuteness, however shrunk from the notice of the human eye, is beneath the condescension of his regard.^ '^ "But do not we see," replied Mr. Morrison, " that many of the greatest events in life are brought about by what is evidently only the result of chance ? " " By the appearance of chance only," was Dr. Bowman^s reply, *' for as Paley says, if I may be allowed to make another quotation, ^ the cast of a die as regularly follows the laws of motion as the going of a watch, yet because we can trace the operation of those laws through the k2 196 EXCITEMENT. works of a watch, and cannot trace them in the shaking of the die, we call the turning-up of the die, chance ; but the pointing of the index of the watch, machinery, order, or some name which excludes chance; the difference resides in the information of the observer, and not in the thing itself^ '' '^ But still,^^ again urged Mr. Morrison, " Pro- vidence, as you call it, does not interfere in all the trifling events which happen to us every day. Surely you do not believe it does ?" " It is difficult to determine what events are trifling ones,^^ here observed the Earl of Wils- borough, " since so many of the greatest changes which have taken place in the fate of nations even, have been brought about by what appeared to be only trifling circumstances." ''We have the highest authority," said Dr. Bowman (provided you admit that authority) ''that the slightest event that can happen to us is known to the Omniscient, for the Bible tells us, ' that not a sparrow falls to the ground without its being known to the Father, and that the hairs of our head are all numbered.^ " EXCITEMENT. 197 Here this conversation, however, was inter- rupted, Hke the other, before any discussion arose, for Alfred Stanley, who never relished any conversation of too deep a nature (not having made up his own mind on any serious subject,) now broke into this difficult one, with asking Reichenbach, " if he had heard whether Dudley Seymour was likely to recover?" " I have just heard that he is now out of dan- ger," was the reply, '' and as Tremaine told me he meant to go up the Rhine as soon as his friend was better, I am very glad he will now be able to amuse himself." " He may go to the d — 1," muttered Sir Stephen to himself, which ejaculation, however, Reichen- bach did not hear, as he now rose to go to join the ladies, accompanied by Mr. Morrison, who felt he would rather be whispering soft sentiments into the ear of Rose Walton, than hearing Dr. Bow- man bring forward truths which he wished to banish from his mind. We must here observe, that Mr. Morrison had, like many others, framed an easy and, what he 198 EXCITEMENT. considered, a rational religion for himself; but at the same time, as he feared to hear it proved a false one, he had adopted the plan of only reading such works on the subject as confirmed his own pre-conceived ideas ; refusing attention to such ar- guments as he had just heard from the lips of the good Doctor. When Mr. Morrison and Ueichenbach entered the drawing-room, they found the ladies all busily engaged in planning what would be the best method of distributing bread and blankets to the poor when the winter should set in ; though, had Miss Weston been of the partj^, the subject of the toilette would have been her choice : she being a lady who always discussed the fashions with as much energy as she might have employed had the fate of thousands depended on what she was going to wear. The ladies now conversing were very dif- ferent in their tastes, they were truly English — and being so, they reserved all their ideas on the width of a flounce, or the shade of a dress, for when they needed the services of their milliners. The arrival of the gentleman, however, banished the EXCITEMENT. 199 subject of even their discourse, — the length of the flannel petticoats to be given, and the quantity of coals to be distributed being left to be decided another time ; whilst Constance now sat down to the piano, to charm every one with the full rich tones of her melodious voice. It sounds very pretty and very patriotic to talk about the beauty of simple Enghsh ballads, but we fear there is very little truth in all the fine things said about them. As Constance, therefore, knew, that at least Ernest Reichenbach would find no pleasure in hearing either " Love not,^^ or any song on a similar subject, she asked him to accompany her in sing- ing a duet in the beautiful opera of " Belisario,^^ which, as they had frequently practised together, they consequently could give with its proper effect. " That is splendid ! " exclaimed Alfred Stanley, as he stood leaning over the piano ; " I would give something to have your voice, Reichenbach." " Perhaps you have never tried what you could do," replied the German. ^' I am as hoarse as a raven, or I should have 200 EXCITEMENT. learnt singing long since, if it were only in order to have had the honor of accompanying, as effec- tively as you have done, such an accomplished singer as Miss Devereux, — and like her, to give every one pleasure." " I should make you a curtsey for that pretty speech," observed Constance, with a smile; adding, as she endeavoured to enter into the trifling subjects of discourse of those around her, — " if it were but to encourage you to make more frequently, speeches of a similar nature, as your complimentary ones are so very rare." " They are only so, because I know Mr. Rei- chenbach whispers all those kind of pretty things so much better than I do, that I refrain from trespassing on his ground," was Alfred Stanley's reply, which was uttered in such a significant tone, that it caused Constance to blush. Though it was but surprise which raised her colour, Reichenbach, however, who had lately watched with interest every movement of Con- stance, as soon as Alfred Stanley had turned EXCITEMENT. 201 aside, placed his hand gently on that of the fair musician, and whispered softly, — " I know not a greater pleasure than to accom- pany you in singing, for I am never so happy as when I am near you, and hearing your sweet voice/^ Constance now started as well as blushed ; the remembrance of him who had last addressed words of a similar signification being forcibly recalled to her mind. This movement was not unperceived by Rose, who, watching in her turn, and seeing the hand taken and not withdrawn, — hke Reichenbach, drew a conclusion therefrom. The reverie of Rose was not, however, allowed to be of long duration, for it was soon interrupted by Mr Morrison asking her pleadingly, if he might be favoured with hearing her sing one of her lovely Irish airs. "Which shall it be?^^ answered Rose imme- diately ; who, though she knew her voice was not equal to that of Constance, that feeling did not prevent her from singing after her, for she did not sing to compete with others, but to give pleasure to her friends. k3 202 EXCITEMENT. "Oh, sing/^ exclaimed Mr. Morrison, "'The Harp that once through Tara^s Halls.^ I know every one will admire that.^^ Though Rosens voice was not powerful, yet the effect was thrilling, for she sung with feeling, and this evening there seemed to be more than usual pathos in its tones ; even Reichenbach, who seldom admired any compositious which were not either German or Itahan, acknowledged that " that Irish air was truly musical.^' "Everything is sweet and musical from you. Miss Walton,^^ whispered Mr. Morrison softly to her; "I think I could listen to your voice all day long/' " Even if I were to scold you ? " asked Rose, laughingly. " Yes even if you were to do that, for it would be a novelty,^' replied the gentleman. " Or if I were to read you a sermon,^' con- tinued Rose, " would you listen to that ? '^ " Yes, from your lips, though I have not heard one for a very long time,'' was the reply. This declaration of Mr. Morrison's, though EXCITEMENT. 203 he meant it to show his independence of all the forms of religion, did not advance him in the favour of E,ose, who as she now thought she ought no longer to treat lightly a subject which was becoming serious (for, even in what s called ordinary conversation, she did not like to offend with her lips), her only answer to Mr. Morrison was, — " You should hear Dr. Bowman preach, as his sermons might benefit you if you chose to attend to them ; '' after observing which, she then turned to speak to Lady Cokeham, as she felt unwilling to contend against one so much opposed to her in opinion as Mr. Morrison. It happened, when Rose turned away from that gentleman. Lady Cokeham was launching forth in encomiums on a work which had recently been published, in which she said, ^^ Jerusalem was so well described, that she could almost fancy herself in it." This declaration Alfred Stanley re- plied to, by observing, " that he would not like to believe himself in any such place, unless he could be taken there in a mesmeric sleep," — after which observation the subject of Mesmerism was intro- 204 EXCITEMENT. duced. Various were the opinions expressed on its power : the Earl of Wilsborough declared, " that though he believed in its existence, he thought it could never produce any good effect, and might be very mischievous/^ Mr. Morrison and Heichenbach, on the contrary, " were convinced it might do won- ders, and prove a discovery of the greatest im- portance to mankind, particularly in lulling pain in cases where surgical operations were necessary.'^ (We must remind the reader that at the time we speak of, the wonderful effects of the use of chlo- roform had not been discovered.) Kose Walton, however, had less confidence in the beneficial powers of mesmerism, though, as she thought, it might be made useful to some purposes, (on the principle that there seldom is any powerful agent created which cannot be employed bene- ficially, and because such a power being sometimes abused, she considered as no reason for condemn- ing it altogether), she, therefore, in answer to Lady Cokeham^s solemn shake of the head, and mysterious whisper about '' the danger and wick- edness of using such a remedy for disease,^^ replied. EXCITEMENT. 205 — " There are many substances which have quali- ties which are of the greatest service to mankind, but which if improperly used are highly danger- ous ; thus even medicines in common use are poisonous in their nature to some constitutions, but of the greatest benefit to others." " We may call, also hundreds of chemical agents, which we should be much at a loss to do without were they taken away from us, danger- ous, to say the least, and many far more so than the employment of mesmerism," continued Mr. Morrison ; " say gunpowder for instance, and yet where would our railroads be, if we did not make use of it." "And a glass of brandy-and- water may be a kill or a cure, comme cela depend" added Alfred Stanley. "But," said Lady Cokeham, who saw the argument was going against her, " we can see the visible substance in those things, whilst the power invested in mesmerism is invisible and also unaccountable." " And so hkewise is the magnetic power pos- 206 EXCITEMENT. sessed by the compass," replied Eeichenbach ; " and because we cannot explain clearly why its point should always turn to the north, should we for that reason neglect the use of it?" " Our inability to explain every eifect in nature is a wise appointment," observed Dr. Bowman, " and should not only lead us to distrust the power of our own limited understandings, but likewise lead us to have faith in many mysteries for which we cannot account. Should the discovery of the power of mesmerism have no other effect than to show us that there is a limit to our ability to comprehend, it will have served a good purpose." "But are you not of opinion," still argued Lady Cokeham, " that a belief in Phreno-mes- merism is contrary to religion. Dr. Bowman?" "I do not see it in that light," replied the Dr., gravely, " or else, my dear Madam, I should have been the first to give it up. It must be evident to every one, that we are all born with different capacities, tempers, and inclinations, and I see no reason why they should not be EXCITEMENT. 207 physically developed, and being so, whatever is of an e\'il tendency, should be equally striven against." " But what would be the use of contending against that passion or disposition, over which we have no power ?" again urged the lady. " It does not follow, that we have no power to subdue what is evil," replied the Doctor, " seeing that we are exhorted both to ' strive, and to watch, and to overcome.^ " " Still if the physical developement is there, which certainly cannot be changed, it would be useless to make any efforts against the evil tendency there exhibited," continued Lady Coke- ham triumphantly, thinking this argument too convincing to be refuted. This, however, was not the case, for the Earl of Wilsborough here ob- served, " that there were several instances of the shape of the head having undergone a change, along with a change of character," and instanced the case of the poet CoTv^er, the dimensions of whose head being measured at different times, was proved to have altered with his change of sen- timents. 208 EXCITEMENT. " All of US too," continued the Doctor, " having some sins to which we are more prone than to others (some being disposed to avarice, whilst others are inflated with pride), is another proof of the truth of phrenology, as though those passions may be contended against effectu- ally; yet the man disposed to avarice, though he may conquer his evil inclinations, by the aid of prayer and strict watchfulness, will always feel that that passion is his besetting sin ; and he will always find it necessary to be more on his guard against that particular propensity, than against other passions to which he is not so prone, or which are not developed in his formation." " But according to your argument," joined in Alfred Stanley, " if any one were to come here to-night, and develope the organ of either appropriativeness, or destructiveness, by taking away or destroying everything he could lay hands upon, it would be committing an act of injustice if Sir Stephen caused that person to be hung." "No, even according to my argument, it EXCITEMENT. 209 would not," replied the Doctor ; " for lie would be only preventing a man who did not choose to strive against the evil passions, by which he was most tempted, from perpetrating, perhaps, the same act against another at some future time ; for if he had watched and prayed, he would not have allowed his besetting sin ^ to have got the dominion over him/ " " I consider the whole thing as complete humbug," here observed Sir Stephen, "and would certainly not let any rascal escape from justice, on the plea of physical formation. How- ever, as no one is likely to dare to enter here, for the purpose of plunder, we need not fear such an event, or consider what we should do with the criminal." This abrupt declaration put an end to the discussion, the conversation becoming afterwards more desultory. Little, nevertheless, did Sir Stephen know at the the time he uttered the last words he had spoken, how far they were from the truth ; but Sir Stephen confided in his own strength, and that strength was to be brought low. 210 EXCITEMENT. During the last conversation, Lady Wils- borough had been talking to Constance about the means to be employed to preserve the life of some delicate plants which the gardener at Conisborough Hall had declared would not live through the winter; but having come to a decision on what would be the best treatment for them, she now returned with Constance, from the conservatory, where they had been conversing, and joined the rest of the party, who, as it was getting late, were preparing to depart. As Reichenbach, however, who was staying with the Cokehams, was about to take leave of Constance, Sir Stephen asked him, '^ If he thought of joining the hunt the next morning, as the York hounds were going to throw off in their neighbourhood." " We leave Elton for Leeds to-morrow," joined in Lady Cokeham, " though it is a pity that our preparations are all made, for Mr. Reichenbach has never yet seen any Yorkshire sporting." " In that case, we should be very glad, if Mr. EXCITEMENT. 211 Reichenbach would remain with us to-niglit/^ said Sir Stephen, politely adding, " and try my black mare at the hunt to-morrow, as we are very conveniently situated for it/^ The German, not having expressed many political opinions in the presence of Sir Stephen, was consequently rather a favourite with him. This offer, therefore, being made cordially, Reich- enbach (after giving one glance at Constance to see if her countenance expressed assent) gladly accepted. By twelve o'clock the drawing-room at Conis- borough Hall was empty, all the visitors except Reichenbach having departed. Though, however, the drawing-room was no longer tenanted by guests, there yet remained another in the house, that other guest being unknown to the rest, — a secret, and a fearful one, — uninvited, — unexpected, — an avenger, and a destroyer, who, concealed by the darkness of the night, had en- tered unbidden the dwelling of Sir Stephen Devereux. But why he sought shelter in Conis- borough Hall must be reserved for another chapter. 212 EXCITEMENT. CHAPTEU XV. Man may not fetter, nor ocean tame. The might and the wrath of the rushing flame ; It hath twined the mast like a glittering snake That coils up a tree from a dusky brake,— It hath touched the sails, and their canvass rolls Away from its breath into shrivelled scrolls. It hath taken the flag's high place in air, And reddened the stars Avith its wavy glare, And sent out bright arrows, and soared in glee To a burning mound, midst the moonlight sea." .Very different were tlie thouglits and inten- tions of Ernest Reiclienbacli to those of the un- known intruder named in the last chapter. He, the invited and the welcome, paced up and down his chamber, with a smile on his lip, and hope at his heart ; for the gloomy past was all forgotten, as bright vistas of future happiness seemed open- ing to him. EXCITEMENT. 213 Whilst we are suffering, we think we shall ever suffer, for the present always reigns trium- phant; yet, as new scenes present themselves, and new hopes arise, the latest events cause the memory of the former ones to fade away, and thus throw a veil over the past. This, at least, was the feeling of Reichenbach, as he paced his chamber, and now meditated more on plans for the future than on miseries formerly experienced. After having reflected, however, some time, the young Grerman at last sat down, took a sheet of writing paper, and wrote thus to a friend : — "You will think me very capricious when I tell you I have given up all idea of passing the winter in Paris : to caprice, however, my change of plan can hardly be attributed, since the truth is, I find amusement more suited to my taste here. I am going out with the York and Ainsty hounds to-morrow : I think I hear you saying, ' what are those sober Yorkshire folks offering to Reichenbach preferable to the gaieties of Paris? I hope he does not mean to break his neck whilst hunting, and put an end to himself, as he once seemed in a humour to do.' 214 EXCITEMENT. " In answer to your supposed question, I assure you, I have no intention of leaving the world at present, or at least of endeavouring to do so by breaking my neck ; but intend to try to amuse myself wherever I can, and to forget the past, and live only for the future." After having closed this epistle, Reichenbach took up another sheet of paper, but this time the letter was to a lady, — to his sister; and much E-eichenbach wrote in the (to us) curious-looking cabalistic letters of the German language. As only the latter part, however, of his epistle relates to our tale, we but translate the conclusion ; it ran as follows : — "I find more amusement here, than I ever expected to find again : I was at a gay pic-nic lately, where you would have been astonished to see how the English women can drink Cham- pagne, Sherry, and Madeira, without being at all affected by the indulgence. I returned from the fete in the carriage of a cross, proud old Yorkshire baronet, the driver of which carriage hav- ing over-turned us all on our road home ; to that EXCITEMENT. 215 circumstance I owe tlie becoming intimate with the said old baronet^s daughter, who is a beau- tiful creature, and who sings di^dnely. I have just been enchanted b}^ hearing Schubert's ' Adieu/ from her, though I would not like to say it to her, for some time yet. I am for this night a guest of Sir Stephen Devereux, and conse- quently under the same roof with his lovely daughter. " You were right, my dear Catherine, when you said my feelings would change, and that I was young enough to have many happy years before me ; I could be happy now, did I not distrust the future, where there always seems a cloud hanging over me, — a mysterious fate, which ever draws me on, and over which I feel I have no control. I know you will blame me for indulging in such gloomy thoughts, at a time, too, when new sources of happiness seem opening before me, since this very evening I have had reason to believe that — ^' Eeichenbach had proceeded thus far, when he was suddenly interrupted in his occupation : the 216 EXCITEMENT. eventj however, which caused the interruption, we are not going at present to relate, though it will be shown hereafter, as we must leave Reichenbach for the present to describe another scene. Constance Devereux went to her chamber that night, but as it appeared, like Reichenbach, not with the intention of going immediately to rest ; for dismissing her maid, after having entered her room, she sat down, still attired in the robe of black velvet which she wore that evening, and looked as though she had the intention of medi- tating seriously on some important subject. After about a quarter of an hour, however, had elapsed, Constance, after unclasping a beau- tiful pearl bracelet from her finely-rounded arm, arose and unlocked a little cabinet which stood on the table before her, and after deposit- ing her pearl ornaments within it, she took out a beautiful bracelet of turquoise, which she gazed at for some time. — It was the gift of Edward Tremaine ! — That gift she had once thought of returning to him ; a feeling, however, she could hardly define, had prevented her fulfilling that intention. And now, — why did she EXCITEMENT. 217 look at that bracelet uow ? Was it in order to recall the past, or to direct her conduct for the future ? Long Constance gazed at it, long Con- stance held it in her hand, and when she replaced it, it was with a sigh. After having thus closed the casket, Constance went and sat down again ; but this time she placedherself by the window of her chamber, and looked from thence without. The park was ex- tended before her, and its tall trees were now unruffled by the slightest breeze : the stars shone brightly in the clear firmament, and seemed to speak of the past, but with a melancholy voice; for " Whoever gazed upon their shining And turned to earth without repining, Nor wished for wings to flee away. And mix with their eternal ray." Why we are in the silence of night more dis- posed to think of the past, than to look forward to the future, we know not, — but so it is ; for it is in the silence of night that memory most fre- quently speaks to us of forgotten scenes, and recalls the events of by-gone years. Constance^s mind was thus influenced as she gazed upward on the bright orbs, and thought — 218 EXCITEMENT. *'Is Edward now looking at tliose stars, on whicli we have often gazed together, and does he ever sigh for the past again ?^^ But the question may be asked, why did Con- stance more particularly devote this night to the memory of other days? we answer, it was because she felt a resolution must be formed, and because she knew an important step must be taken ; and she found, too, she must search into the deep recesses of her heart, and minutely examine each contending feeling; another's happiness depending upon her conduct. Whilst Constance was thus occupied, her medi- tations were suddenly disturbed by her hearing a sound for which she could not account, a sen- sation of oppression overcoming her, at the same time causing her to feel as if she required more air to breathe. Wondering what could create this feeling, she went once more to the window to see if there were any rising mist, which might explain her uncomfortable sensations. As with- out, however, all was calm and clear, Constance turned her face again into her chamber, where EXCITEMENT. 219 to her dismay, she perceived a slight haziness in the atmosphere within : quickly^ she now, therefore, ran and opened the door of her room, when finding the atmosphere on the staircase to be still thicker^ and now becoming more sensible of a strong smell of smoke, the fearful thought that perhaps the house was on fire, broke on her mind. But not long did Constance reflect with- out acting, for immediately the thought struck her, she rushed in all haste to the chamber of Rose Walton, the door of which being unlocked, she entered. All was pure and white in that quiet chamber ; the drapery of the bed was white, the curtains to the windows were white, whilst Rose herself, as she lay sleeping, sweetly and tranquilly, her pale cheek shaded by the dehcate white lace of lier cap, and supported by her small white hand, looked so child-like and innocent in her uncon- scious slumber, that Constance could not help pausing a moment before she spoke, fearful of awakening her too suddenly. Whilst thus con- l2 220 EXCITEMENT. templating her friend^ however, Constance was startled by hearing another door open, then a voice, which though she knew it to be Reichen- bach^s, still alarmed her, for he was calhng out loudly the fearful cry of — '' Fire — fire ! ^^ Constance on hearing that cry, now laid her hand instantly on Eose's arm and exclaimed, " Rose, dear Rose, you must rise immediately, for the house is on fire V On hearing Constance^ s voice. Rose sprang up from the bed, and after being assisted by Constance to put on a loose dressing-gown, rushed with her into the gallery which sur- rounded the house. There the two friends met Reichenbach, the writing of whose letter had been interrupted by the fearful discovery of the house being on fire, and who was now arousing Sir Stephen and the household. "My father, my father, where are you?^^ shrieked Constance, as she saw the smoke, which now came rolling up the staircase, envelope her- self and her friend in its gloomy curtain. " Send Gregory to me directly V was Sir excitj:ment. 221 Stephen^ s reply, which command was uttered in a stentorian tone of voice by the Baronet from the depths of his chamber, who added, as he came out of his room — " he must come and take charge of my iron safe ; and Constance, you must try and save your jewels, if you can/^ Constance, however, who was too much fright- ened to think of useless trinkets, only replied to this direction by crying, " Father, we must save our lives, — father, make haste, or we are lost ! '' When Gregory appeared, who was followed by Constance^s maid, he was immediately loaded by Sir Stephen with a large iron chest, and told by him to hasten down the stairs with it as soon as possible, which order he immediately executed, — Constance^s maid (enveloped in a blanket which she had wisely torn from her bed) rushing down the staircase immediately after him. In the meantime, Reichenbach tried to persuade Constance to let him carr}^ her swiftly down the same road, which he represented she must resolve on attempting before it was too late. But it was in vain Reichenbach urged ; he could not induce 223 EXCITEMENT. Constance to listen to him : her hesitation, how- ever, did not arise from any ill-timed feeling of prudishness (that was beneath her), but from fear, for bodily illness had so weakened her nerves, she felt she could not summon up the courage necessary for the attempt. This feeling, therefore, it was, which made Constance hesitate; which irresolution unfortunately lasted until all chance of escape by the staircase was pronounced to be impossible, — a bright flame which now arose, curling with fearful rapidity round the balustrade, showing it was too late to retreat that way. As this fearful sight presented itself, seeing their position, both Constance and Rose uttered pierc- ing cries, and then, without further consideration, rushed back to the bed-room of the former, followed in their flight by Sir Stephen and also by Reichen- bach, who immediately opened the windows of the apartment, whilst Sir Stephen called out to the domestics, who were flying in all directions, to bring ladders for the ladies to descend from them outside. But it was in vain that Sir Stephen shouted : all who heard him were think- EXCITEMENT. 223 ing of saving their own lives, and were all too frightened to act with any degree of promptitude. What next was to be done ? was the question the party asked themselves, as they stood undeter- mined how to act, — which question no one appeared to know how to answer. It happened, however, that Constance's little cabinet still stood on the table in her room, where all were now assembled, which Reichenbach perceiving, to pre- serve it, took up, and threw out of the window. This simple act, though seemingly unim- portant, led to future consequences, for whilst thus employed, Reichenbach saw that a large tree waved its branches near enough to the window, as he thought, to be of service : seeing this, there- fore, Reichenbach immediately seized one of the strongest of the branches, sprang forward, and by this means descended to the ground. Arrived there, Reichenbach then ran to where he remem- bered the stables were situated, and began feeling about for a ladder, for it was too dark to see. For some time his search proved vain, no ladder meeting his grasp ; this being the case, he was 224 EXCITEMENT. consequently just going to give it up, and return to the house, when the flames suddenly bursting from the building showed him where the object he wanted was to be obtained. Quick as lightning, Reichenbach now ran to where it stood, seized upon it, and then bore it as rapidly as he could, to the burning edifice. When he got there he found, unfortunately, that the ladder was not long enough to reach the window of Constance's chamber, as, when he mounted it, he found he could only just see into the room, which was now full of smoke ; perceiving this alarming circum- stance, Reichenbach called immediately to Con- stance to jump down from the window, telling her he would support her, and prevent her receiving any injury; Constance, however, instead of follow- ing Reichenbach' s advice, only cried out to Rose, entreatingly, '^ that as she was more lightly clad than herself, she must descend without delay.'' " No, no," — responded Rose, '' I have put on your cashmere shawl, and am thus well protected, whilst your neck and arms are uncovered, there- fore you ought to descend the first." EXCITEMENT. 225 ^' Not till I see you safe^ dear Rose/^ again urged Constance, still continuing the argument, she wishing her friend to be saved before her, though at the risk of her own life. Reichenbach, however, perceiving this contest might last some time, and that all would suffer from any more delay, here suddenly put an end to it, he, by springing from the top of the ladder into the room where the two friends stood, interrupting their discourse. Ur- gently representing that there was no time to lose, Reichenbach then advanced towards Constance, put one arm round her waist, whilst with the other grasping the branch of the tree which had before assisted him, he succeeded in reaching the ladder, and thus bore her safely down to the ground : when, however, he arrived there, he found she had fainted in his arras. It may easily be supposed that Reichenbach, on perceiving the insensible state of his lovely burden, should feel half distracted, puzzled to dis- cover also what he should do next ; on looking round, however, as he perceived a grassy knoll not far off, he bore Constance to it, hoping as he l3 226 EXCITEMENT. laid her on its velvet bank, that her consciousness would soon return. But in this expectation Reichenbach was to be disappointed ; in - vain he watched over her — in vain^ by employing the various means usually had recourse to on such occasions, he sought to re- store her j nothing he tried proved of any avail : indeed so insensible had Constance become to everything passing around her, that even when E^eichenbach, in a state of great excitement, at last cried out, as he supported her drooping head, " Constance, dear Constance ! '' she still lay as motionless as before. But it was not long that Reichenbach was allowed to hang over the insensible form of her he loved, for whilst thus employed he was startled by hearing a piercing scream which he felt was uttered by some one in still greater need of assistance, than the sufferer beside whom he knelt, and which reminded him that he had left Rose in the burning pile. For one moment, however, Reichenbach paused, whilst he gazed again on the pale countenance of the insensible EXCITEMENT. 227 Constance, and thought, " must 1 leave this lovely woman, and rush again into the flames ?" Not long, however, was Reichenbach unde- cided : the thought of Rose — poor Rose, from whom he knew the scream must have proceeded, caused the spirit of humanity to triumph in him^ and conquer selfish indulgence. It was neverthe- less with a sigh he relinquished his hold of the death-like form he had been supporting, thinking he might never be so privileged again, but having accomplished the sacrifice, he then with- out further hesitation, rushed once more to the scene from whence he had rescued her, and where he fortunately arrived just in time to prevent Rose from being dashed to pieces, for the poor girl, in her agony at seeing the flames catch her light dress (having sprung from the window where Reichenbach had left her), was only just saved from immediate death by his arriving in time to receive her in his arms ! Leaving Reichenbach, however, to conduct Rose to where her friend was laid, we must men- tion, that Sir Stephen, also, succeeded in saving 228 EXCITEMENT. himself; as that night, having not undressed, (being engaged in some deep calculations,) he was consequently defended from the flames by his woollen clothes, and therefore he descended the ladder from one window, without injury, at the same time that Rose sprang from the other. Though the principal characters in this tale were all rescued as we have described^ not so were all the former inmates of the now burning pile, for when, a short time after the escape of Rose and Sir Stephen, the domestics assembled together, in order to endeavour to check the flames (by bringing buckets of water and other contrivances to the spot), one of them did not appear, that one being Gregory, the bearer of the iron chest, who was nowhere to be seen. The neighbourhood now becoming aware of the awful fire that was raging at Conisborough Hall, sent assistance from all sides. Constance, after being restored to consciousness by the aid of a medical gentleman, who opportunely came to see if he could be of any use, was conveyed, together with Rose, to the rectory, which was EXCITEMENT. 229 near, and -svliere Doctor Bowman hospitably gave them shelter, and afforded them every comfort and assistance in his power. Sir Stephen lingered long near the burning building, to see the effect of the engines, which now arrived from a neighbouring town, and to urge every one to exert themselves to save whatever they could from the conflagration. All exertions, however, seemed to prove vain, as still the fire continued to rage, even all through that fearful night, as if in defiance of the efforts made to quench it, nothing apparently having any effect in extinguishing its power. As first one part of the building fell, and then another. Sir Stephen^s agony increased, his exclamations be- coming more violent each time he saw the endea- vours that were made to save it prove unsuccessful. But, finally, he fell into a still more fearful depth of despaii', as all hope of sa\ing the building was destroyed, for when the morning hght appeared, as Sir Stephen gazed at the de- solate scene, what had once been his fair and noble mansion was only presented to his sight as a smouldering heap of ruins. 230 EXCITEMENT. What however agitated Sir Stephen even more than the destruction of the hall of his ancestors, was the loss of his iron chest, which, on search being made, could not be found ; the body of the missing Gregory being discovered amongst the smoking embers, but not the chest which had been committed to his charge, but which by its weight had probably prevented the escape of its unfortunate bearer. As this circumstance gave rise to the suspicion that the fire was not the effect of accident, but of design. Sir Stephen, therefore, offered a high reward for any information which could be given respecting it, and likewise insti- tuted strict inquiries as to whether any suspicious persons had been seen about the premises, on the eventful night when it had been abstracted. What, however, there was in the chest, Sir Stephen did not declare, though he lamented its loss with such bitterness, as to give rise to numerous suspicions as to its contents. Sir Stephen^ s grief, however, was natural, arising as it did from a serious cause, for he knew too well. EXCITEMENT. 231 that unless the chest could be recovered, he, the proud Sir Stephen Devereux^ would be placed in a very different position from that which he had previously held ; perhaps even have to appeal' in the world in the character of a ruined man. But the more immediate step to be decided upon by Sir Stephen was, where he and his family and domestics should reside for the future, Sir Stephen being so opposed to good Doctor Bowman in aU his ideas, not liking to accept of his hospitality for any length of time. The ba- ronet, however, did not consider long on that subject, for he was a man of a quick determina- tion ; he but awaited, therefore, until Constance and Rose were sufficiently recovered from the effects of the agitating scene which they had just gone through, to undertake a journey ; when he conducted them, together with such of his do- mestics as he found convenient to retain, to the neighbouring watering-place of S , 232 EXCITEMENT. CHAPTER XVI. " 1 saw, or dreamed of such, but let them go. They came like truth and disappeared like dreams, And whatsoe'er they were, are now but so, — I could replace them if I would, still teems My mind with many a form, which haply seems Such as I dreamt of, and at moments found ; Let these, too, go, for waking reason deems Such over-weaning fantasies unsound ; And other voices speak, and other sights surround. Childe Harold. We must now go back to the month of August to accompany, in his wanderings, the unhappy Edward Tremaine. In that month, therefore, as Dudley Seymour was pronounced, both by his physician and his surgeon, to be out of danger, so soon as Tremaine Avas convinced of the truth of their statement, he prepared to set off on his intended tour up the Rhine. Though Tremaine ardently wished to explain EXCITEMENT. 233 personally to Constance every circumstance con- nected with the duel, fearing, as he had received no answer to his letter that it might never have reached her, yet, as he knew it would be in vain to attempt for some time to persuade Sir Stephen to allow him an interview with her, he felt obliged to content himself with hoping that what he had said to her, through Ernest Reichenbach, might make her pause before she condemned him, and might also keep alive in her bosom the remem- brance of his affection : so little did Tremaine dream at that time that the bearer of that very mes- sage would one day become his unconscious rival, and that, too, in consequence of his having been so commissioned. The day was warm, though the sky was murky, when Tremaine embarked on board the comfort- able steamer, Antwerpen, which was to convey him to Antwerp on his way to the Rhine. The Thames looked muddy as usual, and crowded with shipping, the air felt thick and heavy, and London appeared enveloped in a dense fog, as Tremaine left its quays. 234 EXCITEMENT. Leaving our native country is not now what it used to be; people have ceased to rhapsodize about "native shores, "and "foreign strands/' as they were once reported to have done ; those tales are of the past, and now belong to history — for who can repeat "Adieu, adieu, my native land," when perhaps he has bid it " adieu " five or six times previously ? This truly is a changeable world, since our opinions of right and wrong even become obso- lete, — the sentiments thought necessary to be entertained to form a high-minded patriotic character at one period, becoming at another old fashioned and absurd. There were many points in the character of Edward Tremaine which made him well suited to find both instruction and amusement in a con- tinental tour, had he been disposed to profit by the occasion : amusement, however, he never dreamt of seeking, feeling his state of mind incom- patible with receiving it ; but having great taste for the fine arts, he contemplated finding some interest in examining the paintings of both the EXCITEMENT. 235 ancient and the modern Flemish schools. This was not, however, the only taste Tremaine possessed, for he both understood and appreciated good music, and was also sufficiently devoid of prejudice to allow that other nations were our superiors in that art : he, likewise (having once passed a winter in Paris) spoke French fluently, which for those who wish to enjoy foreign society, as well as to luxuriate in foreign scenery, is almost indispensable. And there was yet another point in Tremaine's character which made him better suited than many travellers for associating with men of other nations ; he took with him no overstrained notions of English superiority, and was consequently not disposed to show any of that offensive pride which many of our countrymen are so often guilty of exhibiting ; for though he always warmly defended the British character, when unjustly attacked (possessing patriotism, defensive, but not offensive, he yet remembered it is no where enjoined in the Word of Truth that we should only love our own countrymen, and not extend our brotherly charity to all mankind. 236 EXCITEMENT. Thougli it is surprising how many people go abroad without having the least idea of what it is they wish to see or hear ; it is not equally sur- prising that they should return home dissatisfied, for as they leave their own country to travel in a foreign one, perhaps without a taste for either the beauties of nature, or of art, or indeed for any continental amusement, and as they often cannot speak the continental languages sufficiently well to obtain even common necessaries, much less to join in foreign conversation, it is no wonder they should return to their own country dissatisfied with their tour; and perhaps not only so, but disposed to console themselves for their disap- pointment by unjustly censuring the manners and customs of the different nations they have visited. But to return to the " Antwerpen.^^ Smoothly it crawled along the murky Thames, for some time all the passengers keeping on deck, some of them, even contrary to English custom, venturing to upon addressing a few common-place observations to each other. It was in vain, however, Tremaine sought society amongst them, for most of them EXCITEMENT. 237 being of au uncommunicative description of cha- racter, therefore none responded to his thoughts. But still continuing to search, Tremaine at last thought he had found one individual whose conversation could extend beyond a remark on that everlasting subject — the weather; he was, however, again doomed to disappointment, for no sooner did the Antwerpen get out to sea, than the wind rose, and first one passenger, and then another, disappeared (Tremaine^s new-formed ac- quaintance amongst the rest), leaving Tremaine thus to the companionship alone of the man at the helm, who stood with a large board before him, whereon was written — '' It is requested that no one may speak to this person.^^ Many writers have described the miseries of sea-sickness, and most people have felt the sen- sation too sensibly to need having it explained to them : as, however, a description of the dis- comfort of being too well, is rather more novel, so we shall relate what Tremaine had to endure from that circumstance, he never suffering from the former unromantic malady. 238 EXCITEMENT. In the first place, then, he found that every one he addressed, gave him such vague and unsatis- factory answers, that it was a waste of breath to endeavour to elicit conversation from any one ; in the next place, he felt very hungry, but owing to the sickness of the other passengers, he was rendered perfectly unable to eat his dinner on descending for that purpose ; and thirdly, as he was well, he was expected to stand upright the whole night, for the boat being full of passengers, the sick appropriated all the accommodation to themselves. One poor creature, in her despair at finding her own disability to take care of her infant, asked Tremame to take care of it for her, the stewardess being just then engaged ; but this burden he was soon relieved from, as the said baby commenced such a screaming, that all the other passengers objected to his being its nurse, and remonstrated, until it was again consigned to the care of its forlorn mother. Such are the consequences of being well. I hope there are some people in the world who will pity Edward Tremaine. EXCITEMENT. 239 The spiral tower of Antwerp Cathedral shone brightly in the sunshine as the " Antwerpen'* approached that city. Tremaine^ however, who looked for the first time on its quiet quays, and gable-ended houses, was surprised to see so little of the bustle of commerce in a city which had once been the emporium of the European con- tinent. There was certainly a crowd assembled, but then no one in that crowd seemed to have any occupation, except it might be to look at the fresh arrivals of English from the steamboat, and to laugh at the forlorn appearance that most of them presented. As the object Tremaine sought in his present tour being to distract his mind, if possible, from dwelling on the scenes which had caused the wreck of his happiness, he, having a taste for the fine arts, lingered awhile in Antwerp before proceeding on his excursion ; for the purpose of viewing its magnificent churches, decorated as they are with some of the finest productions of the old Flemish school. Tremaine, however, found also many other objects to aff'ord him distraction (as it is termed by our 240 EXCITEMENT. neighbours, the French) in the ancient city, for though its streets looked deserted, nay even triste, he regretted not their soHtary appearance, he experiencing more interest in contemplating the ancient gable-ended buildings around him (which sent his mind back to former times) than he would have experienced in beholding a concourse of people. Had he enjoyed seeing a crowd, he would have remained at home, — London being ever full, even when the aristocrats are absent ! Tremaine fortunately having a friend in Ant- werp who could introduce him to the private ateliers of many of the modern artists, he neglected not to visit them also, and found as much pleasure, nay perhaps even more, in examining the paintings of the modern Flemish school, than he did in lingering over the finest productions of the ancient masters. The works of one in particular, however, he preferred to any of Ruben's master-pieces, and felt much disposed to make his own, had not signs of approaching evil days just then begun to manifest themselves, fears of a deficient harvest EXCITEMENT. 241 being expressed, and men beginning to talk of the certainty of a repeal of the then existing corn laws ; Tremaine, therefore^ turned his head away from the tempting paintings, to calculate how much he could afford to reduce his rents ; from principle abandoning the purchase of those luxuries, — knowing too, that the artists, whose paintings he coveted, were in the enjoyment of all the comforts and elegancies of life, and therefore needed not his patronage. Being thus interested, Tremaine might have lingered some time in Antwerp, had it not been the month of August j and though in the year of which we speak it was not oppressively hot, but rather the contrary, still that month not being one in which to sojourn long in a large commercial town, our traveller, after he had examined all the curiosities in that city, left it, in order to seek more re- freshing breezes amongst the green hills and shady avenues of Spa. 242 EXCITEMENT. CHAPTEE XVII. " The bleakest rock upon the loneliest heath Feels in its barrenness some touch of spring ; And in the April dew, or beam of May, Its moss and lichen freshen and revive ; And thus the heart, most seared to human pleasure. Melts at the tear, joys in the smile of woman." " Twas time and g-riefs That framed him thus ! Time, with his fairer hand." Old Play. The railroad from Antwerp to Liege near to which Spa is situated, passing through the ancient city of Mahnes, Tremaine stopped there a few hours to look at its Cathedral, being attracted by the picturesque appearance it pre- sented as seen from the railway station. Some of his travelling companions were detained there from a very different cause, namely, the loss of their luggage, a common event to the English at Malines, where so many railways EXCITEMENT. 243 meeting, whoever will not look after his own pro- perty is very liable to have it transported from him, either to Brussels, Ghent, or Antwerp, even should he be en route for Liege. As Tremaine, however, did not lose either his carpet-bag or his portmanteau, he walked at leisure through the clean and quiet streets of Malines, saw the Cathedi-al, admired the magnificent marble monu- ment erected to the last bishop ; and then, having gratified his curiosity, he returned to the station to resume his journey, arriving at his destination the next day. Spa being a romantic-looking little town or hourg situated amongst picturesque wooded hills, was a description of place well suited to the present feelings of Tremaine ; for he loved to be alone, to indulge his melancholy thoughts unin- terrupted, which he could do, whilst wandering amongst the numerous paths with which its lonely hills are intersected. Though Spa is no longer so crowded, or so gay as it was formerly, it is still nevertheless frequented by many English families, owing to their estimation of its bracing M 2 244 EXCITEMENT. chalybeate waters ; many even valuing them so highly as to imagine they could no longer retain existence if they did not, each year, quaff sparkling draughts, from one of its numerous fountains. But strangers also resort to Spa from other motives than to benefit by its waters. In the centre of the town there is a large building which, in the evening, attracts more company within its walls than can be found surrounding the fountains in the morning. To those of our readers who have ever heard of Spa, we need hardly mention we mean here the Redoute, a place where, though some of the company who assemble in its salon prefer the dance, the gaming-table is the principal attraction. Tremaine, however, passed his time, as we before observed, neither at the fashionable prome- nade near the fountains, nor yet at the Eedoute, he preferringto traverse either on foot or onhorseback, the surrounding country. But these solitary excur- sions were not always commenced for the purpose EXCITEMENT. 245 of indulging more freely in desponding reflec- tions, they having sometimes for their object the dispelling of such thoughts, become too intense to be longer dwelt upon. In this design, however, Tremaine seldom succeeded, for though he frequently sought distraction, by urging his steed to the utmost speed compatible with humanity, in order to effect a diversion to his thoughts, by that healthy stimulant, his efforts usually proved vain ; the harrowing reflection ever recurring to his mind, that Constance might believe him to be a de- based and dishonorable character, and that she might ere this have discarded him from her affections. But though Tremaine passed the first week of his sojourn at Spa in this manner, this kind of existence did not last long, a rencontre little expected occurring to interrupt it. It happened one day, as Tremaine was returning from one of his excursions (having just visited the ruins of the castle of Franche- mont, a castle which Charles the Bold is said to have beseiged, and which all visitors to Spa 246 EXCITEMENT. make a point of inspecting), lie thought he per- ceived two figures in the distance, with whose forms he was familiar, though he could not, from the slight glance he got of the individuals, determine if he were right in his conjecture, or ascertain who they might be. Feeling however that the sight of those figures brought the recol- lection of a certain event to his mind, which being accompanied by a longing to clear up a doubt he long had been tormented with enter- taining, it made him resolve on going to the Redoute in the evening, in order, if possible, to meet there the individuals of whom he had had but a distant view. When Tremaine entered the ball-room, it so chanced that the first person he should see there should be a lady, whose ac- quaintance he had formed the past season in London, and in whose society he had - passed many pleasant hours. He immediately, there- fore, addressed her, and she, being equally glad to meet an agreeable acquaintance, welcomed him in return, with all the empressement usually EXCITEMENT. 247 expressed by a Frenchwoman on the occasion of meeting a former acquaintance unexpectedly, in a strange place. " Je suis egalement charmee de vous voir" said the lively Frenchwoman to Tremaine, after he had expressed his pleasure at seeing her, adding rapidly, " Est ce que vous comptez rester long temps a Spa, Monsieur ? " " J'ai dejd passe une semaine ici/' repUed Tremaine, " et fai eu Videk de partir la semaine prochaine, mais d present, puisque je vous ai rencontre,— je ne sais " — " Ah ! Monsieur Tremaine, que je serai heu- reuse de pouvoir vous retinir id, un peu plus long temps,'' rephed the lady, " au moins pendant que fy reste moi-meme, mais voild une jolie valse, fai Men envie de valser ! " As this speech Tremaine conceived to be a hint which it would be very unpohte in him not to un- derstand ; he, therefore, a few moments after, was whirling round the room with the fair French- woman. Whilst thus engaged, however, Tremaine again perceived the same figures he had seen in 248 EXCITEMENT. the morning now entering the ball-room ; he stop- ped suddenly^ therefore^ much to the surprise of his partner^ and looked towards the door ; the lady then directed her glances in the same direction, and both recognized, in the two strangers, as they now advanced up the room, — Captain Frazer and Mr. Denham. It was with feelings almost approaching to abhor- rence that Tremaine perceived his former acquaint- ance standing near him, since in him he saw the man who had led him into the commission of the error which had brought with it such unhappy con- sequences. The sensation which Tremaine experi- enced, however, would not have been justifiable, had he not been convinced that Captain Frazer had, throughout the affair of the duel, been influ- enced in his conduct by some unworthy motive, he having refused to second his own attempt to adjust the difference between the parties engaged; indeed more than that, having somewhat, by slight allusions, fermented the quarrel in the first place. And dark as were Tremaine's suspicions, they EXCITEMENT. 249 "were nevertheless founded on truth: Captain Frazer had not invited Tremaine to accompany him to Frainoi^s merely for the sake of contributing to his own amusement^ nor had he refused to assist Tremaine in preventing the duel, on account only (as he alleged to be his reason) of the uselessness of the attempt. Few men, however, do evil with- out a motive, there being generally some desire to be gratified, or some passion to be indulged, which is the stimulant. And such was the case in this instance ; for the motive that had induced Captain Frazer to entice Tremaine into a gaming-house, and that had influenced his conduct in regard to the duel, was his love, or rather passion for Constance Devereux. But that love was not, as might be supposed, of a very refined descrip- tion, opposed as was the character of this \dle intriguer to that of the gentle being for whom he had conceived a passion. Captain Frazer loved not Constance for any of her good quahties, — in- deed many of them he had rather she did not possess ; considering her kind feelings towards the poor, weakness, and her religion a matter of M 3 250 EXCITEMENT. little importance, except inasmuch as some might be necessary, to enable her to be always sweet- tempered and cheerful. Such being the case, Cap- tain Frazer, therefore, only loved Constance for her exceeding beauty, — (that is, if love it could be called,) though he being little disposed to make the slightest sacrifice to please her, the sentiment he experienced was hardly deserving that name. But Captain Frazer was influenced by other feelings than those suggested by passion for wishing to obtain the hand of Constance Devereux. She was reported to be likely to inherit a large fortune ; indeed he knew she was already possessed of some property left her by an aunt, independent of her father, which circumstance was enough in itself to make him wish to break off the match between her and Tremaine. His first manoeuvre to effect his purpose, it is true, had only extended to lowering Tremaine^s character in the eyes of Sir Stephen and Con- stance, by inducing him to become a frequenter of the gaming-table. As, however, when once the mind is disposed to work evil, there are ever EXCITEMENT. .251 opportunities occurring to favour the inclination, Captain Frazer was led on to work still greater mischief; for knowing his end would be advanced still further by impHcating Tremaine in a duel (as that would prejudice Constance as well as her father against his rival) he had fermented the quarrel himself between Denham and Seymour, to bring about that catastrophe, and likewise had suggested to Mr. Racketts the evil motives attri- buted by that gentleman to Tremaine, when he sneered at his attendance on his dying relative. Such was the man who now stood in the saloon of the Redoute, at Spa, and who Tremaine felt compelled, by the usage of society, to acknowledge as a friend ; a cold shudder, however, crept through the frame of the latter as he touched the hand of the Captain, though as he could prove nothing against him, he could only form the determination to avoid his society, and could but discourage any attempt at renewing his former ill-fated intimacy. '^I am extremely glad to see you," was Cap- tain Frazer's first address to Tremaine, as soon as he perceived him, " and also to find you amusing 252 EXCITEMENT. yourself so well as I see you are/^ continued he, giving a significant glance at Tremaine^s waltzing companion. — " Pray have you been long here ? " " Only a week," replied Tremaine, coldly. " And where do you intend going next ?" con- tinued the Captain, having his own reasons for making such an enquiry. " I think of going up the E-hine, if " " Oh ! if you are not too powerfully attracted here," interrupted the Captain, as he gave another glance at the lady. Tremaine, not thinking it necessary to reply to this speech, and having satisfied his curiosity, now turned away, feeling unwilling to converse any longer with a man he thoroughly disliked. Captain Frazer, however, would not be thus treated, as his intriguing mind thought it would not only be better policy to keep up a seeming friendship with Tremaine, but that he might perhaps yet gain something more from him ; for though Captain Frazer had succeeded in the measures he had adopted to divide Constance and his rival, his ultimate design was not yet ac- EXCITEMENT. 253 complished ; continuing, therefore, the conversa- tion, he next ejaculated with a hypocritical sigh,— " Ah, Tremaine ! that was a sad unfortunate affair at which you and I were present the last time we met. Pray tell me, how is poor Dudley Seymour, whom you so kindly watched over, and whom you prevented the doctors from kill- ing outright ? '' "Mr. Seymour is now quite out of danger, though it will be a long time before he can be perfectly restored to health,^^ answered Tre- maine, still coldly. " Poor youth ! " again ejaculated Frazer, " what a pity it is that he should have been so hot- headed ! It is to be hoped, however, that this last adventure will cure him of that ; but it is no use now dwelling on melancholy subjects,^^ continued the Captain, changing the tone of his voice as he added, whilst looking towards the door which opened into the room appropriated to gaming — " we had better seek for some amusement than let our minds dwell on past scenes. Will you try 254 EXCITEMENT. your luck with me and Denham at the roulette table ?^^ Though this was said with a seemingly care- less air, yet a close observer might have seen there was a degree of suppressed eagerness in the tones of Frazer, accompanied with a sharp searching glance, which showed a much greater interest in the answer he expected, than what he wished to appear. " No/^ replied Tremaine, in a decided tone of voice to this invitation, perceiving the intention of the Captain: — ^^ No, I never mean to risk either my fortune or my character at a gaming- table again ! " " Oh ! my dear fellow," exclaimed Captain Frazer, energetically, in reply, "you surely do not mean to say that au serieux ? what you have done, and what you have suffered, i§ only, believe me, a transient episode in life, a something from which you may draw experience ; nothing really irremediable has ensued; — Dudley Sey- mour lives, and he will be all the wiser for what he has seen of life; and as for yourself, the few EXCITEMENT. 255 ill-natured remarks which were made on your part of the affair are all now forgotten : you need not^ I assure you, put on that grave look about laying a few pieces down at the roulette- table. I see you are infecting Denham, too, with your notions, which is, indeed, too bad of you." " I should be very glad if I could infect any one with a horror of gambling," answered Tre- maine firmly, "and especially Mr. Denham." " Horror of gambling ! " replied the Captain with a shrug, partly contemptuous, as he looked at Denham ; " how absurd that sounds : pray do not, my good fellow, talk hke a methodist parson, or else I must positively cut your acquaintance altogether." "The sooner it ceases, the more agreeable it will be to me," answered Tremaine gravely, now determined to show the Captain he wished to decline his advances ; " for Captain Frazer, I was led, by you, v> eakly to seek amusement, or rather forgetfulnes of other annoyances, from the gaming-table ; and as that step brought with it misery to myself and others, should I be led 256 EXCITEMENT. into acting so again, I should deserve a worse punisliment than that from which I now suffer, if worse there can be than to have dishonour attached to my name, and to have lost what I love best on earth for ever ! '' The renewed attempt of Captain Frazer to lead him to the gaming-table having painfully recalled to Tremaine the consequences of his former compliance with his tempter^ s invitation, it was with a quivering lip he pronounced the last sentence he uttered. Struggling, however, to repress his emotion, he shortly after turned on Captain Frazer a regard expressive of firm de- termination of purpose, which regard encount- ering that of the Captain, showed him his attempt had failed. Unwilling to appear de- feated, though thinking to himself, " the game's up in that quarter/' Captain Frazer now motioned to Denham, who had beeen listening to the conversation, to follow him into the gaming saloon, saying to Tremaine as he passed, "Eh bien nous n^ en parlerons plus.'' It was now, however, Denham's turn to EXCITEMENT. 257 hesitate, which he did for a powerful reason. The remembrance of the scene on Wimbledon Common, when he saw a youth, just entering into manhood_, fall by his hand almost lifeless on the ground, having long haunted his imagination, it had produced in his mind a deep feeHng of remorse. It is true this feeling Denham had hitherto suppressed, fearing the world^s laugh, or rather that of his evil companions, who always repre- sented to him, that to have any uncomfortable feelings on the occasion, was childish and absurd. Now, however, that Tremaine had shown him that the weakness lay in being led by Captain Frazer, and in fearing to be laughed at by cha- racters resembhng his, he began to think he would change his course of life, and imitate Tremaine. This resolution being formed, therefore, Denham, instead of following Captain Frazer (who had passed through the door which led into the room appropriated to the roulette and rouge et noir tables), turned towards Tremaine, who was passing out in an opposite direction, and said, though in a low hesitating voice, " I will follow you.'' 258 EXCITEMENT. It would be well if we all followed the example of those who resist temptation. The world is divided between two parties, — " leaders and fol- lowers : " unfortunately, the leaders are often men of daring, reckless dispositions, whose actions are neither guided by the precepts of religion nor by those of morality. Great minds naturally be- come leaders of the weaker ones, but men of great intellect are not necessarily men of high principle — too often they are the reverse. We have many startling instances of leaders conducting their followers to destruction. Napoleon Buona- parte not only led his followers to the battle-field, but he enchained their minds also ; for he suc- ceeded in making them believe, that honour and patriotism were the only virtues necessary to be practised; and likewise that the meaning he attached to the words, honour and patriotism, was the only ju^t one. Was he right, however ? Surely no, — for where was the glory associated with enslaving thousands of his fellow- creatures ? Where was his sense of honour in placing him- self on a throne to which he had no right ? and EXCITEMENT. 259 in what did the patriotism consist that led to his depopulating his own country, in order to acquire others to add to its extent. Yes ! Napoleon led not his followers aright : he confused men's minds until they saw not in what true glory, honour, and patriotism consisted. Thus justly might Byron say of him — " What from this barren being do -we reap ? Our senses narrow, and our reason frail. Life short, and Truth a gem that loves the deep ; And all things -weighed in custom's falsest scale, Opinion, — an omnipotence whose veil Mantles the earth with darkness, until right And wrong are accidents, — and men grow pale Lest their own judgments should become too bright. And their free thoughts be crimes, and earth have too much light." But now let us turn to what a leader may be : he may be like one, who opened men's minds to perceive the errors and superstitions into which they had fallen ; he may be like one, who taught the human race to search into their own hearts to discover the corruptions therein; he may be like one, who showed his fellow-creatures that they must not hope to obtain salvation^ through trust in human aid, or in a cold cere- monial form of worship, where the heart and intellect perform no part. 260 EXCITEMENT. Yes_, there has been at least one human leader in the world who conducted his followers aright, and that one was Martin Luther ! True it is, that all are not called upon to act in the same bold manner in which the great Reformer acted ; he was a light set upon a hill, by God^s own special appointment. Times are changed, and different circumstances call for different modes of conduct. Still, how- ever humble their sphere, all may take a part in the great drama of life, which shall show what master they serve. There are daring spirits abroad ; and as there are men who lead, but whose aims seem doubtful, and whose projects wild, should we not, therefore, look to the point whither such spirits would lead us ; and if their ways are not ways of righteousness, and their paths are not those of peace, should we not endeavour to lead them, or at least follow only the example of those who have shown by the evidence of their actions, that they pursue the right path ? Since whether we be leaders or followers, amongst the rich, or amongst the poor, EXCITEMENT. 261 there is one bourne for all, accessible alone through that " dark valley/^ trodden alike by earth's brightest and wisest, her weakest and humblest denizens : there our loved ones are not lost, but gone before us ; and we must, like them, equally encounter its gloomy shadow — And follow where they lead, And follow them with speed. Upon the lonely path from which, Once entered, none recede. We must follow those who now repose, Too early snatched away, And they who've seen life's latest close In age and in decay. We must follow, we must follow. For the ground we tread is hollow. We must follow on the lonely path, How early who shall say ?" / / 262 EXCITEMENT. / CHAPTEU XVIII. " Thou rapid Aar! thy waves are SAVollen by the snows of a thousand hills — but for whom are thy leaping waters fed 1 Is it for the Rhine 1 " " Vivian Grey." — D'israeli. Though we have shown in the last chapter that the character of Tremaine had become so far improved and strengthened by the disappointment he had endured, that he was able not only to re- sist evil counsel himself, but also to lead another to follow his example ; yet, notwithstanding his improvement in one respect, there yet remained many faults in his temper which still wanted cor- rection, since it is, unfortunately, not by a single effort that we can root out from our hearts what- ever is there that is evil. EXCITEMENT. 263 The table cVhote at the " Hotel de Flandi-e/^ at Spa, is always numerously attended by stran- gers from all parts of the world, and no wonder, for assuredly it boasts great attractions. In the first place, there, every delicacy of the season is offered to the guests; the dishes are uniformly well-cooked, and so numerous, that the person's taste must be fastidious indeed who cannot make a good dinner at its table d'hote. Whoever goes to dine at Sury's Hotel, however, should take a good stock of patience with him, for long must he wait before the oysters (which form usually the first dish) appear; as it must be observed, that the dinner announced for three o'clock does not usually grace the table until four. It happened that as Tremaine, who was one of the guests the day after his rencontre with Captain Frazer, was occupied like the other convives in assisting to make disappear some of the tempting viands spread before the party, he perceived at the other end of the table the face of a friend, — it was that of the Hon. Algernon Spencer, who, my readers may perhaps recollect, was one of the party who 264 EXCITEMENT. upheld the cause of Sir Robert P 1 at the club-house. " How d^e do, my good fellow ? '' said he to Tremaine, when the dinner was concluded, as he advanced to meet him, — " how are you, and where are you staying ? '* '^ I am at the Hotel d^York at present,^^ replied Tremaine, " but I think of leaving this place for the Rhine to-morrow. ^^ ^' Do stay another day, and then I will go with you,'' exclaimed Spencer, who happened to be in want of a companion just then. " I shall by that time have seen all I wish to see of Spa, and I should then be ready to start again — but perhaps you are not alone ? " " Yes, I am quite so,'' answered Tremaine, " I have not even a servant with me, and shall be most happy to wait for you." ^^ Ah, that's a good fellow," replied Spencer in a tone of great satisfaction, having just found out that he had committed a great mistake in setting off on his tour alone : " but I wish I had been as wise as you have been, and left my stupid valet EXCITEMENT. 265 behind me. I find him of no use at all^ as he cannot speak French, being, as he says himself, not ^ ighly heducated, he is only honest, and that is of very Kttle use, as he lets everybody else cheat me for want of speaking the language, — but I must not tire you with my grumblings. Where do you think of stopping first ? " " At Godesburg, I think,^* answered Tremaine ; " the scenery there, is, I believe, very beautiful, and just How I prefer the face of nature to that of man/^ " Oh, you are disposed to say with Byron — Is it net better then to live alone. And love earth only for its earthly sake ? ' replied Spencer, in a tone which betrayed that his ideas were not in accordance with the lines he quoted. " I am certainly rather inclined just now to agree with him in the conclusion of the verse,^' repUed Tremaine; ''where he says — 'that if we join the crushing crowd,' we are sure to be ' doomed to inflict or bear.' " 266 EXCITEMENT. '' I know your recent experiences of the friend- ship of the world/^ continued Spencer in a sym- pathizing tone, " have not been very encouraging, but you must nevertheless believe — ' That two or one are almost what they seem, That goodness is no name, and happiness no dream.' " " It is difficult to believe so/' said Tremaine, with a sigh — " when we have little to hope for in this life; but I must not infect you with my melancholy, or else you will repent of your offer of companionship." ''1 will take all the risks," replied Spencer, gaily, " and hope that my charming society will effect such a change, that you will soon be as gay as myself, and love not only the earth, but every thing on it ; so remember, the day after to-morrow we set off." And this determination held good, for on the day named, Tremaine, with Spencer, left Spa for the Rhine. The Rhine rolls majestically below the ruined castle, which stands on the summit of the moun- tain of Godesburg, and Tremaine, as he lingered EXCITEMENT. 267 therCj mused on its beauty, though sighing as he inwardly repeated — "Oh not for mortal tear Doth nature deviate from her calm career; Nor is the earth less laughing, or less fair, Though breaking hearts her gladness may not share." Fair, however, as are the banks of the Rhine, and beautiful as are its ruined castles, and its smiling vineyards, since many ancient bards, and many modern poets have sung the praises of its beauty, we will only relate what feelings were excited in the breast of our traveller whilst wander- ing near its banks, premising, that as his thoughts wandered to Constance, he felt the touching truth of those expressive lines, — " But one thing lacks these banks of Rhine, Thy gentle hand to clasp in mine." It chanced that one glowing autumnal morn- ing, as Tremaine and his companion were ascend- ing the Godesburg, to visit the old chapel of St. Michael, that Spencer inadvertently alluded to the cause of Tremaine^s present distressing posi- tion. Now there being a something in the beauty of the scene, and in the freshness of the n2 268 EXCITEMENT. morning air, which caused Tremaine^s heart to expand itself; under such an influence he confided to his friend the whole history of his sufferings, explaining their origin — namely, his unfortunate disagreement on politics with Sir Stephen, and his being subsequently induced by Captain Frazer, in the agitation of the moment, to meet him at Frainoi's, whither his cousin had pertinaciously in- sisted on following him. The duel, and the con- sequent breaking off of his engagement to Miss Devereux, Spencer was already acquainted with; but few knew (nor was Spencer among the num- ber) who was the tempter, until Tremaine ex- plained the whole circumstance to him. This is often the case, — the world judges of men^s characters by their actions : thus, often it censures erroneously, from not knowing the mov- ing springs. After learning all these particulars from Tre- maine, Spencer, who heartily wished to make his friend happier, suggested to him the possibility of softening Sir Stephen^s heart, by writing him an explanatory letter; "for, as to your quarrel about EXCITEMENT. 269 politics," added Spencer, "those little disagree- ments never last long : for my part, I would see all the com laws in the world far enough, before I would give up the woman I loved for them/' "You do not know Sir Stephen Devereux,'' replied Tremaine to this suggestion of his com- panion ; " he is both arbitrary and tyrannical ; to soften him I should have almost to sue like a slave, and to swear implicit reliance on his opinion, as well as to bend to his will in every- thing/' "I am afraid it is your pride then, that is stand- ing in the way of your happiness, since those are your reasons for not addressing Sir Stephen/' replied Spencer; "you might, however, try what some concessions might accomplish, for surely, if you love Miss Devereux as much as you profess to do, you can make some sacrifice of your exalted ideas for her sake/' " I would willingly sacrifice my pride for her love, if that were all required from me," answered Tremaine, feeling truly what he said ; though he added, " but I fear much more would be demanded. 270 EXCITEMENT. and that what you call pride is, in reality, prin- ciple, which I ought not to sacrifice for any woman, however much I might love her/' " But first be quite sure," again urged Spencer, "that it is principle and not pride which stands in the way of your happiness, for much depends on calling things by their right names : some people are led on to commit the most re- vengeful actions under the name of ' showing a proper degree of spirit;' many too, under the same mistake, call extravagance — generosity, and avarice — prudence, or a proper regard for the in- terests of one's family, and so on : now I suspect, in your case, that what you call principle, is nothing but pride." " Well, supposing I allow (though only for the argument's sake) that it is so," answered Tre- maine, wishing to hear his friend's opinion on the subject, — '^ would you, if you were in my place, give it up, and become the slave of Sir Stephen Deve- reux for the sake of his daughter ? " " Oh, certainly not, for I would manage things better than that," replied Spencer, gaily, whose EXCITEMENT. 271 character being somewhat light and volatile, looked upon the affairs of life in a very different manner to his friend, — "for I would, as soon as I was married, take the daughter in the first place to the continent, and thus remove her from under the influence of the papa ; then, on returning to England, I would have a house in town, as far removed from that of Sir Stephen's as conveniently could be, — and lastly, I would persuade him to have a pet doctor, on whom he could vent all his spleen/' " But first it must be proved that my professing to abandon the opinions I have always held (whether right or wrong), would not be an act of hypocrisy instead of one of humihty; and be- sides," added Tremaine, with a sigh, " I know not if Constance still loves me, for, as she never answered my letter, though I implored her to do so, she, I fear, condemns, or has forgot- ten me." " That is a question I certainly cannot answer for you," replied Spencer, "but, from your de- scription of the character of Sir Stephen Devereux, 272 EXCITEMENT. I should say, that she may never have received your letter, or she may have been forbidden to re- ply to it." "That is possible," answered Tremaine, mu- singly, as he and his friend now entered their hotel, where the appearance of breakfast inter- rupted their conversation for a time; it was soon renewed, however, for during breakfast, the English post arriving (always an important ev^nt to wanderers on the continent), Tremaine received a communication which seemed to agitate him so much, that it caused Spencer to look up from the letter he was himself perusing, to ask him " if he were iU ? " " Oh no," answered Tremaine, in an agitated voice, " I am not ill, but I feel more miserable than ever ; — a fearful event has happened at Conis- borough Hall — it has been burned to the ground, and Constance, dear Constance, was there at the time. Oh ! how she must have suffered !" ejacu- lated Tremaine, in an agonized tone, as he leaned his head on his hand, whilst his face looked flushed with excitement. EXCITEMENT. 273 " Indeed ! " replied Spencer, looking at his own letter again, "my epistle mentions Sir Stephen Devereux^ family, but says notliing of the fire, only that '' Here, however, Spencer stopped abruptly, for he now saw that his communication would not be very agreeable to his friend. This pausing, however, as it naturally excited the curi- osity of Tremaine, it made him eagerly ask, "What more accounts he had heard respecting the Devereux family ? " " Oh, nothing of any great consequence,'^ re- plied Spencer, who, though he felt obliged to speak, wished to give as Httle importance to his words as possible — " only a little nonsense about Ernest Reichenbach being a constant visitor at Conisborough Hall, — I dare say it is not true/' At hearing this intelligence, Tremaine's colour changed, whilst he again inquired, "if it was reported that Miss Devereux was the cause^ and if she was said to encourage Reichenbach's visits?" " Something of that sort is whispered,'' an- n3 274 EXCITEMENT. swered Spencer; "but, my dear fellow, all this ought only to show you, that you must not lose any more time in following my advice ; and that you should write to both Sir Stephen and Miss Devereux immediately/^ Tremaine here rose from his seat, and com- menced pacing up and down the room, evidently angry as well as agitated, whilst he likewise kept muttering to himself something that sounded very like, " Treacherous German ! — deceitful foreigner ! if he were only here I would '' and then Tremaine paused; perhaps he did not know himself what he would do, for as he had had enough of duelling he might be think- ing, that were he to upbraid Reichenbach for his treachery, the remonstrance would be sure to pro- duce a challenge. Meanwhile Spencer, who had never seen Tremaine exhibit any fault of temper before, was rather surprised at this violent ebulli- tion of anger. Attributing it, however, to the state of his friend^ s mind, arising from the fear of losing Constance, Spencer, as he saw he had another letter to read, hoping to find something EXCITEMENT. 275 in it whicli would contradict the first report, he tore it open, saying at the same time, in a con- soling tone of voice, "Perhaps this letter may- throw some more light on the subject, or prove the whole story to be an unfounded report/^ " Ah ! ^^ said Spencer, as he perused it, " here I have an account of the fire at Conisborough Hall, and my sister says likewise, that Reichen- bach is reported to have, by his incredible exer- tions, saved the lovely Miss Devereux and like- wise Miss Walton from the flames/^ " Thank heaven for that ! " exclaimed Tremaine now more cheerfully, but afterwards added, with a sigh, " Oh ! if I had only been there instead of that detestable German ! " " And why should you not go there now T^ urged Spencer again. " Don^t you know that women are weak, soft-hearted creatures, and that between pique at your abandoment of her, and gratitude to Reichenbach for saving her life, Miss Devereux may be led into accepting him, from the romance of the thing, even without her 276 EXCITEMENT. caring a straw about Mm; and thus you may lose her for ever." " And if her gratitude to Ueichenbach over- powers the remembrance of my love," an- swered Tremaine, raising his head proudly as he spoke, " let her become his wife ; for it will prove to me, that her affection for me was not real love, but only the result of gratified vanity. If, how- ever, on the contrary, she still remain my Con- stance Devereux, then I will — " Here Tremaine paused again, whilst he continued to pace up and down the room with still more agitated steps. — " What course ought I to pursue V thought he, as he asked himself — ^' Does Constance still love me, and does she believe me guiltless of planning the destruction of Seymour ? How much ought I to give up for her sake, if her affections are still mine ; and how long a time should I give her to decide between Reichenbach and myself?" These were questions that Tremaine put to him- self over and over again, as he felt his future happi- ness depended upon what he should now decide on doing. He saw he had two courses to choose. EXCITEMENT. 277 — one was, to set off immediately to England, to see Sir Stephen Devereux, explain to him how he had been drawn into his part in the duel, and by denying all his own opinions, and by adopting all those of Sir Stephen, endeavour to soften his feel- ings against him. This conduct Tremaine felt would be degrading, but he knew that it would be only by these means that he could get permission from Sir Stephen to see his daughter, though this would not be all, for he would still have to convince Constance that his conduct had not been dis- honourable ; and perhaps he would likewise have to revive her former affection for himself, and contend against a powerful rival in the person of Reichenbach. Tremaine was aware, too, that the gaining permission to see Constance, was looking at the most favourable view of the result of a visit tu England, and that the greater probability would be, that Sir otephen would neither receive him personally, nor permit his daughter to do so either ; and thus all chance of gaining Constance would be lost for ever. 278 EXCITEMENT. The other course that presented itself to the mind of Tremaine, was for him to remain on the continent for some time longer, or at least until he should hear what conduct Constance had adopted with regard to Reichenbach, then, if she rejected him, to make every possible concession to Sir Stephen, short of an aban- donment of principle, to obtain her. " And yet if I pursue this latter course,^' said he to himself, whilst he pressed his hand on his temples, as if to still their throbbings whilst he pondered on the subject; "shall I not be per- mitting this treacherous German to gain ground on the affections of Constance, and be allowing her to believe, that I am a mean-spirited hypo- crite, too degraded to dare to aspire to her hand, and quite unworthy of her love; whilst in reality, it is because I am not mean-spirited, and will not crouch to Sir Stephen, that I am en- during this absence from her I love best/^ During Tremaine^s meditations, Spencer had continued the pleasant pastime of eating his breakfast, and as he was not in love, had made EXCITEMENT. 279 sundry eggs and petits pdtes disappear ; when, however, he had come to the conclusion of his repast, and saw that Tremaine was yet undecided, he thought he would endeavour to give what he imagined would be a right bias to his friend^s determination, and, in pursuance of which design, said therefore, inquiringly to Tremaine — " What day must we start from hence ? I am quite ready to accompany you into Yorkshire whenever you choose to set out." But there was another pause before Tremaine answered this question — a long pause, though at length he replied, by saying slowly and deliberately — " I have come to the determination of re- maining on the continent until December ; at the end of which month, if I hear that Constance is still free, and has formed no engagement with another; I will then write to her, and to Sir Stephen, and make such concessions to him as I may with consistency resolve upon, whilst retaining at the same time whatever of the opinions I have adopted as appear to me to be founded on prin- 280 EXCITEMENT. ciple ; for Constance Devereux^ I am convinced, would cease to love me, if I were to become a hypocrite, as I should be, if I pretended to re- nounce them/^ It was thus Tremaine reasoned, and thus he satisfied himself that the conduct he meant to pursue was correct, thinking he was acting upon principle. It was his passions, however, being still partially excited, which prevented him making immediately to Sir Stephen Devereux all the concessions which he might have offered, and pride which kept him from the side of Con- stance Devereux, when, as will be seen, she most needed his support. EXCITEMENT. 281 CHAPTER XIX 'The suns serene are lost and vanished That wont the path of youth to gild. And all the fair ideals banished From that wild heart they whilomefiU'd. Gone the divine and sweet believing In dreams which Heaven itself unfurled ! What godlike shapes have years bereaving Swept from this real work-day world ! " Bulwee's Translation of Schiller. The Rhine looked most beautiful on the morning on which Tremaine and Spencer left the isolated Godesberg, in order to continue their course up the shining waters. With pleasurable feehngs, therefore, Spencer gazed on it, as smoothly its current flowed, seeming, by its rapidity, as though it wished to force back the struggling steamboats on its surface, and to prevent theii* ascending its rushing stream ; but 282 EXCITEMENT. vain its efforts, — vain against the power of man, as one boat after another, conducted its crowded passengers to wherever their fancy made them wish to linger, whilst the old grey castles, hung as it were upon the hills, seemed to look con- temptuously down from their lofty heights, on the modern hordes thus invading their solemn retreats. In the same steamboat with Tremaine and Spencer, there chanced to be a celebrated author, who some years before had written a work on the Rhine, which had in Tremaine^s youth first inspired him with a desire to visit its banks. Unfortunately, however, for Tremaine and his friend, the author had forgotten all he had written on the subject (or at least he said so). Instead, therefore, of the legends of each old castle being recalled, the legends of Westminster became the theme of conversation, and the names of Sir Robert Peel, and of Lord John Russell, coupled with the words corn laws, and repeal, were the sounds which floated on the breezes which played above the Rhine^s lovely waters ! EXCITEMENT. 283 After pursuing the course of the river, how- ever^ as far as its beauties extended^ (and where is there a river which boasts of such a length- ened line?) Tremaine and his friend at last fixed upon Ems as a place where they would sojourn for a time. In consequence of this arrangement, therefore, our travellers, after they had returned from Mayence, left the valley of the Rhine for that of the Lahn, and thus pursuing their route, soon found themselves in the fashion- able watering-place they had determined on visiting. Gay, Ems can hardly be termed, for "it would be," as Mark Tapley would say, " coming out strong," to be "jolly" in that melancholy, though lovely spot. The air of Ems is melancholy — morbid melan- choly, so much so indeed, that it has not resolu- tion ever to leave the place, the same breeze seeming to hang continually about the same hills ; and thus, change of air is not to be obtained there. " I shall grow hypochondriacal if I stay much 384 EXCITEMENT. longer here/' said Spencer to Tremaine one day as he and the latter ascended the Molberskopf * together : " this morning I found myself reasoning upon the wide difference between the ideal and the actual/^ " And what conclusion did you come to respect- ing that difference ?^^ enquired Tremaine. '^ That ideal life is a great deal more agreeable than actual life, only that we cannot dream on for ever, or rather we do not feel pleasure in doing so long, but why we do not I have not yet exactly made out.^' " I think I can tell you, or at least give you my ideas why this is the case,^^ replied Tremaine, — " it is because the imagination in the course of time exhausts itself, and other faculties of the mind become restless if not brought into action ; for whilst we live in the realms of fancy, we neither exercise our faculties of benevolence — of charity — of sympathy, or indeed of any of the active social virtues or qualities; which state of existence cannot last long without a feeling of - A steep hill, overlooking the village of Ems. EXCITEMENT. 285 satiety being created. I am persuaded that many who are obliged from necessity to be always em- ployed in active bustling life, and who ever are thinking that they would be supremely happy ' in some lovely spot, far from the busy haunts of men/ would very soon, (if they were able to in- dulge that vain imagination), wish themselves out of their retreat, and once more amongst their fel- low creatures." '^ Then, as such is your opinion, I shall go to the Cursaal to night, and take you with me to prevent 'the over-working of your imagination producing satiety,^ " replied Spencer, laughingly, " for it might arrive at such a height as to lead you to put an end to your existence whilst on the top of one of these melancholy mountains." " I think the simple bodily fatigue caused by the ascent, would prevent my doing that deed, even if no higher motive deterred me," answered Tremaine, — " for, as by the time we get to the top of this mountain our only desire will be for rest, — that will be sufficient counteraction against mental suffering." 286 EXCITEMENT. " But, as I have no mental sufferings to com- plain of at present, except, as I said before, the feeling a httle hypochondriacal," replied Spencer, — '^it will be long before I ever ascend such a precipice again, for my lungs don^t by any means approve of it." Hardly, however, had Spencer made this obser- vation, before he and Tremaine arrived at the summit of the Molberskopf, and from thence were fully repaid for their exertions in ascending, by the magnificent view spread far and wide be- neath them. Immediately below the mountain where they stood, lay Ems, and Dorf Ems, whose white buildings contrasted well with the dark foliage on the mountains towering above them, and which formed a back-ground to the scene, whilst in front, parallel with the line of houses, the Lahn could be seen meandering through the wooded hills, winding its peaceful course to join its tributary waters to those of the Rhine. Happy and peaceful as the scene appeared, however, on which Tremaine and Spencer now gazed, yet, before night, far otherwise were the EXCITEMENT. 287 effects of the transactions which took place within one of the buildings on which our travellers gazed ; for they were of a nature to plant woe and despair in the heart of one of its frequenters, whilst they acted in some measure on the events of this tale. " That spot surely would be a peaceful abode to the weary/' observed Spencer, as he pointed out to Tremaine^s attention the little village of Dausenau, which lay on the right, and which was, like Ems, embosomed in wooded hills. " Yes, it might be peaceful enough, if human infirmities and unavoidable calamities, did not make it otherwise ; for I have no doubt we should find, were we to enquire, that there were both drunken husbands and scolding wives, as well as poverty, sickness, and death, amongst the inhabi- tants of that quiet-looking village.'^ " You say truly," repHed Spencer, '^ and there the contemplation of the ideal would exhaust itself most assuredly ; for what else would there be to fly to for excitement, unless to brandy-and- water ?" 288 EXCITEMENT. " Or hard labour/' added Tremaine, " as that prevents the necessity of seeking excitement, by- making repose more desirable/' " But if such is the case, why do we see that those who work the hardest have often the most recourse to stimulants to renew their energies V " Because, when the mind and body are over- worked, then rest is not always attainable : this is often the case with the manufacturing poor in England; therefore they have, as you say, too frequent recourse to means of producing un- healthy excitement/' '^ Which with them is certainly not necessary as a counteraction to the ideal," added Spencer, as he now rose from the bank on which he had thrown himself, and proposed to Tremaine their descending from their exalted situation, being disposed to seek scenes of a more exciting nature. "Having contemplated long enough the face of nature this morning," added he, " to-night I shall make my observations on the face of man, as I mean to visit the Cursaal." " Whilst I walk outside," said Tremaine. EXCITEMENT. 289 " And look at the moon/^ rejoined Spencer. " No, but risk losing neither my money or my temper, nor cause others to lose theirs." " Few think of the effect of gambling, upon their opponents," Avas Spencer's reply — " at least I suppose so ; for I never think of anything but taking care of my own money, or winning some from other people." " Then you had better look at the moon with me," said Tremaine, " if such are your ideas." " And grow more hypochondriacal ?" " I hope you do not feel so disposed." " No, certainly not, just now," replied Spencer, as he and Tremaine now arrived at their hotel ; " but one thing I do feel, and that is — deucedly hungry." " TMiich proves that a long walk is a better antidote against ennui than the Cursaal." " I shall try, however, to-night, which seems the most effectual method of counteracting the influence of the depressing air of Ems," repHed Spencer, which observation was the concluding one of the conversation. o 290 EXCITEMENT. The moon did shine brightly that night, as Tremaine walked in the pretty garden which sur- rounds the Curhaus of Ems ; and occasionally he did look up at it, and likewise at times he thought, " Is Constance looking at it too T' Lovers will have such thoughts, though married people think very little about the bright orb. Tremaine's reflections, however, upon Constance and the moon, and perhaps, too, on "the trea- cherous German,'^ as he called Reichenbach, were interrupted suddenly by the voices of two men conversing on the other side of the hedge of roses near which he was walking, and which separated him from them. Though Tremaine much disliked being an unseen listener, it happened, owing to his situation, he could not help partially overhearing the conversation which was taking place near him; the two strangers continuing to walk in a parallel direction to the path he was pur- suing. The persons alluded to, seemed to be English, for their conversation was carried on in that EXCITEMENT. 291 language, and, from the nature of it, they had apparently just issued from the Cursaal. " I did not altogether understand the system upon which that tall, dark-looking man acted,'' said one of the strangers, who seemed to be the younger of the two, to the other. " Did you not ?" answered the elder ; " then you had not quite so much discrimination as I had. There are a variety of ways of playing: there is bold play — there is cautious play — there is systematic play — there is dishonest play.'' " And pray what kind of play amongst those you mention, was the species adopted by the man of whom I spoke ? " asked the first speaker anxiously. " None of the former, kinds, I guess," replied the elder gentleman, who, by his answer, showed himself to be an American. " Did he cheat, then ?" exclaimed the younger stranger eagerly ; ^' for in that case " ^' Hush, hush — not so loud," interrupted the American, who then lowered his voice, so that Tremaine could not hear so clearly as before, what o2 292 EXCITEMENT. was his reply. The younger stranger however, only attended to his warning and example for a short time, and soon became again elevated in his tones, evidently excited by the subject of the discourse. " And that poor youth with the long flaxen hair; what a despairing look he cast, as his last gold piece was swept away from him by that villain,^' Tremaine heard the youth remark. '' The more fool he to place it there,^^ replied the American. '^ I would Hke to blow that dark fellow's brains out, if he won it by cheating ! " exclaimed the younger stranger, again in an elevated tone, and then added — ^' But if you saw there was cheating, could you not prove it T' " And what should I get for my pains if I did V^ asked the American — " perhaps a bullet through my head; for that dark chap looks up to anything.^' ^' You might save that poor young man, per- haps, from putting a bullet through his own. I shall never forget the tone in which I heard him EXCITEMENT. 293 exclaim,, as he left the saloon — " Oh ! meine mutter I " '^ Ahj you are young, and unused to those kind of scenes/^ answered the elder stranger^ with a careless laugh, adding, however, after a pause, in a softer tone, " but I pity the youth, too, as well as you, though still would rather he should put a bullet through his own head, than that any one else should put one through mine/^ " But both events might be avoided : there is law,^^ urged the tender-hearted English youth. " Law is expensive, and generally useless in cases of such a nature ;^^ replied the American. "However, if I were calVd upon to give evidence, or to bear private testimony, as to the nature of the kind of play that has been going on to-night, I would do so ; but as for running my head into the fire when nobody has asked me, that I am not such a fool as to do, I guess. ^^ After this last speech, Tremaine heard no more, for the two strangers now left the garden together, and all was again silence. Tremaine, who was waiting for Spencer, now turned, though 294 EXCITEMENT. almost unconsciously^ into the walk they had just quitted, musing on the words he had just heard. But he had not been long there before per- ceiving something white on the ground, which shone in the moonlight, he stooped to pick it up, thinking it might be something of value which had fallen out of the pocket of one of the strangers. It was only a card, however, and, seemingly, a very uninteresting looking card, the name written on it being only that of an Ameri- can. "Mr. Jonathan Horatio Stubbs, Bedford- square, London,^^ muttered Tremaine to himself, as he put the card in his pocket almost unconsci* ously. There are some actions we perform without exactly knowing why ; and which, although they be involuntary, and apparently of no consequence, notwithstanding produce important results. The trivial action which Tremaine had just performed was of this nature, for though he had no design in view, when he preserved this indi- cation of the name and abode of a person he cared nothing about, that action, nevertheless, EXCITEMENT. 295 ultimately led to important consequences, which will be shown hereafter. The interest Tremaine had felt in the conver- sation which circumstances had obliged him to overhear, was caused by the fear he experienced that Spencer might be in some way involved in the transactions which had been taking place in the Cursaal ; therefore his joy was great, when he saw his friend approach soon afterwards. Spencer^s first exclamation, however, was not very satisfactory, for he said, in a repenting tone of voice — " I wish I had been looking at the moon with you, instead of passing my time in that confounded Cursaal ! " " Why did you not come away sooner, then ? " replied Tremaine, but rather hastily, as he thought Spencer might have spared him this further anxiety on his account. *' Because I was watching the play of a dark- looking man with black moustachios, who was winning all before him," was Spencer^s answer. " One poor youth suffered dreadfully; indeed so 296 EXCITEMENT. much so, tliat I fear his mind, as well as his purse, will never recover the effect of his losses." " Did you hear the name of the man who won so much ? " now inquired Tremaine eagerly, as a strange suspicion took possession of his mind. " Yes, I believe I did," answered Spencer; *' for I think I heard some one address him by the name of Captain Frazer." " I thought so," exclaimed Tremaine, appearing more annoyed than surprised at hearing of his former tempter being again so near him; he, however, made no further remark just then, only as he looked again at the card which he had just picked up, he murmured — " Yes, I will certainly keep this address ; as perhaps I may one day find use for it." EXCITEMENT. 297 CHAPTEE XX. To teach man what he may be, or he ought, If that corrupted thing can ever such be taught." Byron. One evening, a few days after Tremaine's dis- covery of the presence of Captain Frazer, at Ems, he and Spencer set forth on a walk for the purpose of endeavouring to ascertain where was the abode of the unfortunate youth who had been such a loser at the Cursaal, on the night they had made that discovery. As such was their aim, Spencer and Tremaine, therefore, took their way across the slight bridge of boats which crosses the river Lahn, to the vicinity of the Roman CathoHc Church, haviug heard in that direction was the path which would o3 :i\)G EXCITEMENT. lead to the residence of the youth in question. The evenin'g was serene and the air was balmy, though of that depressing nature which, we have before remarked, is the prevailing character of the atmos- phere at Ems : the beauty of the scene, however, could scarcely be surpassed — the sun had sunk sufficiently low to cause the dark shadows of the mountains to throw their deepened gloom across the verdant meadows, whilst at the same time, streaks of golden light intersected the shade, which, by contrast, added likewise to the wildness of the scene. Passing the few houses which are situated near the church, Tremaine and his com- panion pursued a road which lay between two lofty hills, or rather mountains ; the road itself, too, gradually ascending, gave at each step on casting a glance behind, a more extended, but at the same time a more distant view of the village they had left. " I think your servant said he had traced the youth for some distance up this road," said Tre- maine, as he plucked a branch from the wood anemone, which abounded at each side of the road they were traversing. EXCITEMENT. 299 " We seem to be leaving all the habitations of men behind us," said Spencer, in reply ; " I can hardly believe that a youth, fond of the pleasures of the gaming-table, would choose such an isolated spot as this appears to be, in which to dwell." " Only a proof, perhaps, that the contemplation of the beauties of nature, or of the ideal, has not the effect of controlling the passions of the human heart." " Those are the opinions likewise of your new- found friend," remarked Spencer, alluding to a gentleman whose acquaintanceship Tremaine had formed recently. " I wish I had heard a few months ago, argu- ments like those he brings forward," replied Tremaine, with a sigh, " and that the poor youth we are seeking had had the same advan- tage." Whilst making this observation, as Tremaine now perceived a habitation before him, which gave him hope that he had at last arrived at the abode of the unhappy object of their search, he and 300 EXCITEMENT. Spencer hastened their steps, and soon after entered the Forsthaus. This romantic retreat, situated at a httle dis- tance from the village of Ems, is frequently the resort of strangers, for standing as it does on the outskirts of a fine oak forest, and commanding a magnificent view, not only of the windings of the Lahn, but also of the glorious Rhine itself, and of the distant Drachenfels, few visitors leave Ems with- out lingering some hours near this favoured spot. On enquiring who inhabited the house, Tre- maine was glad to learn that he had not been mistaken in supposing he might find the youth he sought in such a retreat, for by the answer he re- ceived, he was enabled to gather, that a young student, answering to Tremaine^s description, had, in company with his mother, here taken up their temporary abode, the mother being far advanced in a decline : — and, "Oh ! '^ said the woman who gave them this information, "if you knew the agonizing nights the poor lady spends whilst her son is at the Curhaus, you would pity the poor invalid, and perhaps help to alleviate her wants." EXCITEMENT. 301 It is perhaps unnecess?.ry to state, that this ac- count of those they sought, with the additional information that assistance was not likely to be refused, if delicately offered, increased Tremaine and Spencei^'s desire to see them, which desire was soon after gratified, the woman gladly show- ing the enquirers into the apartment which served as a sitting-room for the mother and her son. This apartment, though clean and of a tolerable size, was, however, evidently not the best in the house, for it could hardly be called furnished, — a table in the centre, a buffet in one comer, and a few straw seats, irregularly placed, being all it contained : but a figure, which was seated at the table, chiefly attracted the attention of Tremaine ; it was that of a female, in the meridian of life, who, though still interesting in appearance, seemed fast sinking under that fatal malady, from which many who seek for a cure from the waters of Ems, vainly hope to escape. She had arisen, at the entrance of Tremaine and his companion, and as she quickly collected some papers which were strewn on the table before her, she likewise 302 EXCITEMENT. anxiously regarded her visitors, probably won- dering wbat could be tbe reason which had caused them to introduce themselves into her presence. " I fear, madam/^ said Tremaine, addressing her in the German language, as he had learnt she was a native of the country, "that our unexpected visit has the appearance of an intrusion, but did you know our motives for making it, I am sure you would not regard it in that light, for we mean it to be a friendly one." " The unfortunate so seldom meet with friend- ship amongst strangers," replied the lady; a smile^ (though melancholy, however), illumining her face as she beckoned to her visitors to be seated, — " that those in adversity may with some reason be surprised at receiving any indication of it." As whilst Tremaine was speaking, Spencer hav- ing glanced at some of the papers which lay scattered still on the table, and having perceived that they were poetical effusions, now observed — " Our call was principally intended for your son, madam, who I was sorry to see was so great a EXCITEMENT. 303 loser at the Curhaus a few evenings since, but who, I hope is more of a poet than a gamester, from the nature of the studies which I perceive occupy his leisure hours/^ " Alas ! " rephed the lady, the tears now stand- ing in her eyes, whilst the quivering of her hps betrayed that she had some fears that the cause of the intrusion of her visitors might not proceed altogether from amiable feehngs, — " Alas ! the occupations which my son pm'sues with so much ardour, all lead to the same results, — misery and utter ruin/^ "Surely, madam, the indulging in a few poetical effusions will not lead to such effects,'' answered Tremaine ; "his taste for Hterary pursuits might be made subservient to turning his mind from those of a more dangerous tendency ; — how- ever, we are not come here,'' continued Tremaine, changing the subject (thinking it time to offer some more substantial proofs of the friendly nature of their visit, than that of giving their advice), " for the purpose of directing you how to educate your son, but to offer you any assistance 304 EXCITEMENT. which the severe losses that he is reported to have sustained at the gaming-table^ may make accept- able." Though Tremaine uttered these words in a tone of voice meant to prevent any feeling of em- barrassment at the idea of accepting pecuniary aid, by expressing himself as though such an offer were not an unusual one for strangers so situated to make to each other, yet he did not succeed in impressing the lady with such a notion, for she, knowing it was anything but usual for her to meet with such a proof of benevolence, could hardly believe she heard aright, until Tremaine, taking out his pocket-book, made an evident demonstration of the generous nature of his intention. ''1 would accept a loan," murmured she at length, " since you are so kind as to offer it, and since my son has contracted debts which he ought to discharge ; but I fear if he knew of my possessing any wealth he might — " Here the lady paused, unable from deep emotion to proceed, and unwilling too, perhaps, to expose EXCITEMENT. 305 her son^s failings. Tremaine, however, who had not interrupted her when she mentioned the word loan, fearful of hurting her feelings, (though he intended his offer to be one of a more generous nature,) now relieved her from her embarrassment by observing, " that if she thought by obliging her son to give him a bond as a security for the money, and also a promise never to hazard any of it at a public table again, that such an arrangement would be the means of restraining him from the excitement of gaming, he would exact such conditions from him,^^ Tremaine at the same time insinuating to the mother, that he would never adopt any harsh measures against her son, should he fail in performing the promissory part of that en- gagement. As this proposal so generously made, offered too many advantages to the poor mother to make her hesitate any longer accepting it, she now warmly thanked Tremaine for his kindness, who in order to arrest the overflowings of her gratitude, next anxiously enquired, where he 306 EXCITEMENT. could meet with the youth; Tremaine^s en- quiries were, however, answered by the appear- ance of the young student himself, accompanied by the stranger whom Spencer had named during their walk, as Tremaine's new-found friend. There was something in the manner and appearance of this gentleman, which on their first meeting had led Tremaine irresistibly towards him, though he hardly knew why, as he did not find his conversation either brilliant or amusing. Since then, the manner in which he had suggested what results might arise from the present position of aff'airs in the world, when speaking on the subject of pohtics, supporting his arguments by deductions which Tremaine had never heard drawn before, had had a powerful eff'ect on the mind of the latter. With pleasure, therefore, Tremaine now saw him accompany the youth, knowing his conversation to be so instructive and so well calculated to benefit the young gamester. The surprise of the young man, on perceiving that his mother had two such visitors as Tremaine and Spencer, may EXCITEMENT. 307 easily be imagined, and still more astonished he became, when he learnt their purpose in seeking her abode. He, however, did not exhibit the same sentiments of gratitude, as she had done, at Tremaine's generous offer, showing some unwillingness to bind himself by the promise demanded. The stranger, however, here in- terfered, and by his arguments and represen- tations, at last succeeded in extorting the desired promise, which but for his powerful reasonings, might never have been extracted, the young gamester^s feehngs of remorse, on losing his mother^s last resource, having entirely subsided, they having originated only from impulse and not from principle. After the youth had signed an acquiescence to the conditions proposed; a long explanation followed as to how he had been first entangled in the snares of Captain Frazer. In the course of these explanations it became evident, that the young student^s mind, having become embued with wild and impracticable notions on the subject of freedom of action, and equalization of 308 EXCITEMENT. property, during a temporary residence at Paris he had been led into spending his time and his thoughts on unprofitable literary labours, the publishing of which, had become his ardent hope. The desire to gain money for this purpose it was, which had first led him to the gaming-table, (the remembrance of which circumstance, had caused his mother's sigh when Spencer had alluded to his literary pursuits.) "After my first visit,^^ continued the youth, whilst describing his meet- ing with Captain Frazer, " I went on losing more money each day, urged on by him to stake yet more and more, each time I was a loser. On the day on which this gentleman first saw me," continued he, indicating Spencer as he spoke, " T staked my last thaler, and saw it also swept away from me, by the hand of Captain Frazer." " Was he acquainted with your circumstances ?" asked Tremaine, wishing to probe to the bottom the conduct of his old tempter. " He knew that I was dying," interrupted the miserable mother, '^ and he knew likewise, that every groschen he extracted from my boy, EXCITEMENT. 309 deprived me of the means of obtaining necessary food for us hoih." '^ And liad you no compunctions of conscience, at spending your parentis only means of support at the gaming-table ?'' here joined in the stranger, addressing the youth in a serious tone of voice. " It was to gain more enlarged means to be applied to a noble purpose/^ was the answer; ^'yes, to proclaim the awakening-up of soul- inspiring liberty, and the redemption-hour of our benighted father-land, though alas, I fear that, " die zeite und die Stunde sind noch nicht da.^' '^Nor, it is to be hoped, ever will come," thought Spencer, as he threw his eye over some verses which lay before him on the table, written in the same over-strained style employed by the young student in expressing his sentiments. The stranger, however, who was not content with laughing at the youth^s folly, (wishing to con- vince him of his errors in order to improve him,) now said gravely, — " Do you think, that you, who have shown by your conduct that you have no control over your 310 EXCITEMENT. own passions, are fit to govern tlie wills of others ; or you, who cannot, or will not endeavour to earn your own bread, that you can teach those who need it how it may be obtained ? Practice first private duties before you undertake public ones, for the time is approaching when there will be many political changes, but the wise will only place their confidence in good, as well as talented men, since they will not expect, ^ to gather grapes from thorns, or figs from thistles/ " " Is not the man deserving of confidence, who causes to be heard, the voice of the people ? " replied the youth energetically, — " of that people, too, who have long and vainly called to their oppressors for justice and for mercy, and who now should govern in their turn those, who have with ruthless severity denied them, through successive ages, their just and indestructible rights." " Provided that said voice," interrupted Spencer '''spoke sense — showed ability — and acted up to the professions it sent forth ; however, as we have no reason to expect that the labouring classes, which I suppose are what you mean by EXCITEMENT. 311 ' the people/ would, if placed in power make any better use of it, than tlieir superiors have done before them, — nay having every reason to believe that the contraiy would be the case; we had better be content with those rulers we have at present, (even if their government be not so wise as we could wish it,) ' than fly to evils that we know not of/ '^ '^ And be sure, as long as you act under the impulse of uncontrolled passions, and are not guided in your conduct by principle, no one wiU consider you fit to be a leader, or a worthy supporter of the rights of the poor,^^ added the stranger, who now rose to depart. As the words he had spoken, though ad- dressed only to one, had not fallen unheeded on the ear of another, Tremaine offered to accom- pany him, the latter wishing to prolong the con- versation. The offer being pohtely accepted, Tre- maine and Spencer then took leave of the mother and her son, the gratitude of the former, as she thanked Tremaine for his benevolence, now biu-sting forth \\ith true German frankness; 312 EXCITEMENT. whilst her son, at length subdued and conscience- stricken, reiterated his promise never again to enter the dangerous precincts of the Curhaus. When night closes over the busy scenes of life, and each living creature having sought repose, causes the stillness of death to reign around; thoughts and expressions usually become elevated in their character. This may be owing to the season of night being symbolic of death, and therefore demanding a more subdued train of reflections than those favoured by the busy hum of men, and the broad glare of the sunshine. Such being the case, the conversation between Tremaine and his new companion at first fell into a sombre strain, as they descended the road which conducted them to the village, admiring, at the same time, the effect given to the landscape by the appearance of the rising moon, as it threw its melancholy beams on the lovely scene before them. Soon, however, the subject of their dis- course changed to that of the conduct of the young German, and the sentiments he had ex- pressed; during which conversation Tremaine EXCITEMENT. 313 discovered, from the absence of all national peculiarities or prejudices in his companion, and the general view of politics that he took, that he had had parents of two different nations. " How each enthusiast imagines he can regu- late the affairs of state were he permitted to legislate ! '^ observed the stranger in continuation of some observations previously made on the wild schemes which had been entertained by the young student, which he had revealed to the former. '' I have heard that the poor yoatVs poUtical effusions were examined by some of the autho- rities; but not being found worthy of notice, were returned to him again.^^ " Heaven defend me from living under the legislation of any such crack-brained fools as those of his way of thinking are ! " joined in Spencer, whose thoughts never took a very elevated or sentimental turn. '^ And yet the time may not be very far dis- tant, when such ideas may be prevalent.'^ " "We should prepare ourselves for what may p 314 EXCITEMENT. be coining, by endeavouring to attain sucb real knowledge and practical wisdom, as may enable us to counteract the influence of such ill-regulated sentiments/^ replied Tremaine to this prophecy of the stranger. " And likewise to establish a good name in the meanwhile, by attention to our private duties ; which, by causing others to respect us, may also lead them to place confidence in us, should we be called upon to act in any public capacity .^^ " I am sure my hair would grow grey in a fortnight, if 1 were called upon to govern any nation/^ observed Spencer; "indeed, to govern myself is often more than I can manage to ac- complish wisely,^^ added he, raising his hand to his head, as though he thought it necessary (at the bare mention of the possibility of a sudden change in the colour of his hair) to do something to avert such a catastrophe, he being not a little proud of the possession of some fine waving locks. " A feeling of diffidence does not usually exist in times of popular commotion; for then each man thinks himself capable of governing the EXCITEMENT. 315 nation; the poor and uneducated frequently con- ceiving tliat those in their station are equally fit to govern, as those of a higher grade, forgetting that the same want of self-government, and the same liability to err, exists in all classes, which failings combined, in the lower classes, with igno- rance and inexperience, renders them wholly in- capable of managing affairs of state/^ " But as there is no fear of the lower classes becoming legislators," here observed Spencer, '^ we need not argue upon their inadequacy, but choose for our leaders those amongst our own class, who are the best quaUfied, both by their talents and their high principles, to legislate for us, so as to lessen the number of those in extreme poverty." " I strongly advocate your last recommenda- tion," rephed the stranger, now pausing as he had arrived at a point on the road where he and his companions should separate ; " for," added he, " not having the same confidence in your first assertion, the latter plan is the more necessary, as too soon, I fear, there will be a serious struggle p2 316 EXCITEMENT. amongst all nations between the rich and the poor," saying which, the stranger now shook hands with his companions and parted from them, not, however, without leaving an impression on the mind of Tremaine, which influenced in some measure his future conduct. Though what had led Tremaine to seek the German youth, had reference only to the past (his conduct having caused one youth to visit the gaming-table, leading him to rescue another from the same path) ; yet what he had heard from the stranger respecting the necessity of upright conduct in a political leader, caused him to reflect on his own, and to perceive, it had not been such, as to justify him in acting the part of a political dictator to others. The bitterness consequently of his reflections against Sir Stephen, were thus considerably mollified, and doubtless would have produced beneficial results, had not other passions been lately awakened in his breast; jealousy of Eeichenbach having succeeded in the place of some of the former causes of dissension. Tremaine, therefore, being unfortunately excited EXCITEMENT. 317 by tilis sentiment whenever the idea suggested itself of softening Sir Stephen by making conces- sions, banished it by thinking of what use would it be to offer advances, when the affections of Constance were no longer his; and besides, why should he return to England, when it might be to see her become the wife of the young German ? Had Tremaine been of a less irritable tempera- ment, he would probably have reasoned more calmly, and consequently have perceived the pos- sibility of the reports he had heard having arisen simply from the circumstance of Reichenbach having saved the life of Constance on the occasion of the fire. Tremaine' s feelings, however, were always so excited whenever he even thought of Reichen- bach, that that circumstance did not suggest itself to his mind ; he thus, again, from the want of a necessary control over his passions, increasing his happiness instead of endeavouring to avert the event he dreaded. The consequences arising from conduct influenced by such feelings, must, however, be left to be disclosed hereafter. 318 EXCITEMENT. CHAPTER XXI. Never again shall evening, sweet and stUl, Gleam upon river, moMntain, rock, or hill;— Never again shall fresh and budding spring. Or brighter summer hue of beauty bring In this the clime where 'tis my lot to dwell, But shall recall, as by a magic spell, Thy scenes, dear land of poetry and song!" "7%e Dream."— Hon. Mrs. Norton. Though the Rhine flows majestically on its on- ward course, — though its ruined castles, and its smiling valleys are lovely to behold, yet are there many scenes as interesting and as lovely in our own favoured island ; — for is not the rolling ocean more magnificent in its expansiveness, and are not our own rocky shores, and our own ruined castles, as fair to look upon, — nay, perhaps even fairer than any to be met with on the banks of the far-famed German river ! Yes, lovely S EXCITEMENT. 319 presents scenes as fair as those that the wanderer in a foreign land can gaze on. Its ruined castle, the scene of many a page in history, stands nobly elevated above the foaming ocean, the white waves of which, when agitated by the wintry gale, dash up in fury against the rocks below, though only to descend again in feathering spray into the ocean^s depths. Not alone, however, amongst ruins of past ages, need the mind wander in lovely S , for though there are such scenes for the grave and the contemplative, and though the northern shores offer a quiet retreat for such, from the world and the world^s ways, there are likewise other scenes for the young and the light-hearted, where the gay may find amusement or relaxation from the cares of life, and where the invalid, who plunges into the briny ocean, may find health. But to return to our tale : We must pass over giving a description of the fashionable promenades on foot, or en carosse, where strangers find diversion who visit S ; our tale is a grave one, at least we are going to 320 EXCITEMENT. enter on some very grave scenes, and therefore we must leave the description of gayer ones, to those who can do them more justice. Constance Devereux seldom joined the gay throng, usually assembled on the public prome- nades, for though at an age to enjoy the amuse- ments of the young, yet she felt that her melan- choly thoughts were little congenial with scenes of gaiety and pleasure. The remembrance of the recent fearful scene she had witnessed, of her dearly -loved home becoming the prey of the de- vouring flames, together with having to endufe her father^s continued irritability, which had increased ever since that fatal event, depressed her spirits (previously worn and weary with her private sor- rows) to such a degree that she preferred quiet- ness and solitude, to all the pleasures of the busy world. Sir Stephen, since the destruction of Conis- borough Hall, interested himself more in house- hold arrangements than he had ever before been accustomed to do ; though his orders were often very puzzling ; for sometimes he would express a EXCITEMENT. 321 wish that more economy should be practised, and then, no sooner had Constance reduced the estab- lishment, than he would again change his tone, and request that every thing might be put on the same footing as before. All these changes of pur- pose perplexed Constance much, but she obeyed her father cheerfully in all these particulars, though she found the inconvenience of, perhaps, one day having to dismiss old and tried servants, and the next, being required to engage strangers in their place. The gentle Rose Walton however, who had accompanied her friend to S , endeavoured to soothe and cheer Constance in all her diffi- culties, trying to persuade her that there was nothing really embarrassing in the affairs of Sir Stephen, which Constance often feared must be the case. This kind friend was now, anxiously looking forward to a circumstance, which she hoped would cause a happy change in the prospects of Constance. Sir Charles and Lady Cokeham were expected to arrive in S in a few days, and with them Ernest Reichenbach (who, after the night of the fire had rejoined his p3 322 EXCITEMENT. friends.) Rose, therefore, thouglit it was very probable that he would accompany them to S , as she was convinced that the presence of Con- stance would prove a sufficient attraction, the sanguine girl forming expectations for the re- newed happiness of her friend, connected with the young German, who she hoped might soon occupy that place in the affections of Constance, formerly possessed by the absent Edward Tremaine. It was whilst affairs were in in this state, that Sir Stephen, after receiving a large packet of letters one morning by the post, requested his daughter to accompany him to his private room. Constance saw from her father^s manner, that something of great importance was about to be communicated to her ; and it must be confessed, she felt more of fear than hope, as she followed her father's footsteps, who, as soon as they were quietly seated alone, began his communications by opening a letter, which he said, he had just received from abroad. Constance's heart palpitated violently, on hearing this intelligence. Was the letter from EXCITEMENT. 323 Edward Tremaine ? " No/' she thought, as she looked at Sir Stephen — " my father's countenance would not express so much gratification, if it were/' Sir Stephen, now, however, put an end to all her doubts, by informing her, that the letter was from Captain Frazer, and that there was an ardent desire expressed in it, "to be permitted to pay his addresses to her, for which purpose he would come immediately to S if Constance would give him the slightest encouragement to hope, that he might eventually succeed in gaining her affections." On hearing this proposal, Constance felt so overpowered; she could hardly speak from agita- tion and surprise ; her dislike to any proposal of the sort, just at this time, and more particularly from the man who made it, being so great, that she hardly knew how to express her dissent in sufficiently rapid terms. Constance had long, with the quick perception vrhich women often possess of the characters of others, felt that Captain Frazer was an unprincipled and a selfish man ; and she Hke^vise had an intuitive feehng. 324 EXCITEMENT. that he was the instigator of many of the cir- cumstances which had caused the wreck of her happiness. With such feelings, it was not surprising, that when Sir Stephen asked her " whether he might write to Captain Frazer to say, that she would be glad to see him at S ^^ she should immediately reply, "that instead of being glad to see him, she hoped most sincerely, that she and Captain Frazer might never meet again." " And pray, Constance," demanded her father in reply to this speech, "what objection have you to the Captain as a husband, that you treat his proposal with such contempt?" "I neither like his manners, his character, nor his conduct," replied Constance in a decided tone. " And yet his character, and his conduct, stand much higher in the opinion of the world, than the character and conduct of Edward Tremaine !" exclaimed Sir Stephen passionately, "and I hope," continued he, meanly wishing to work upon his daughter's feelings, " that no foolish remembrance EXCITEMENT. 325 of that hypocritical scoundrelj prevents your looking favourably on Captain Frazer's addresses ; for I must also tell you, that the Captain mentions in this letter, 'that he met Mr. Tre- maine at Spa, and saw him paying serious attentions to a rich widow there, to whom it was reported he was going to be married / so, as you perceive, Tremaine finds no difficulty in forgetting you, and consoling himself with another ; therefore, if you do not wish to appear in the light of a forsaken damsel, I would advise you to do the same/^ Constance, when she heard these words, felt a pang at her heart that impeded her respiration, making her feel almost ready to faint. She had never contemplated the possibihty of Tremaine ceasing at any time to love her, and now, though she knew it would be better for him to forget her ; yet when she was told that such was the case, and not only so, but that he could already bestow his affections on another ; she experienced a keen sensation of disappointment and mortifi- cation, though not however of that nature to 326 EXCITEMENT. lead her to accept of the offer of one raan, from so mean a feeling as that of revenge at the desertion of another. In this instance, therefore, her father had miscalculated the effect of his communication; he had judged of what his danghter^s feelings might be, by what he had often heard were those of many young ladies similarly situated, and was therefore much surprised when Constance, disguising what she suffered, only replied to his last communication by saying, as calmly as her inward agitation would permit — "Whatever may have been Mr. Tremaine^s conduct, it will be no example for mine ; and as I am convinced that Captain Frazer^s proposals to me, are made solely from interested motives, and that he is both deceitful and unprincipled, nothing shall induce me to accept him as a husband.^^ " Nothing ! ^^ cried Sir Stephen, now in a rage ; " nothing can induce you to accept of the offer of an honorable man ! but perhaps,^^ he added in a milder tone, " when you hear that your position EXCITEMENT. 327 in the world may, in a short time, be very much changed, you will not treat Captain Frazer's offer with such disdain, for I must inform you, that my pecuniary circumstances are very different from what they were, and you, instead of being an heiress, may hardly have wherewithal to support yourself becoming a Baronet's daughter. You know my estates are entailed on the male heir ; therefore what your fortune will be, depends on the success of my railway purchases, and on the recovery of my iron chest, both of which events are uncertain ; so reject not the opportunity you now have of securing a good establishment, lest you should some time or other find yourself obliged to do without the comforts and luxuries you have hitherto been acccustomed to enjoy." Constance vainly endeavoured to suppress her rising anger at this speech of her father's, for her pride was of that nature, that she would still less marry a man she disliked, for the sake of securing an establishment, than she would out of pique; she felt it likewise contemptible in her father to urge her by such reasons to accept 328 EXCITEMENT. the Captain, after she had told him how much even his presence was disagreeable to her. Such being the feelings of Constance, her reply therefore was expressed in an excited tone, as glowing with indignation, she said — "Do you think I, the daughter of one of the oldest Baronets in England, would degrade myself so far, as to unite myself to a man I detest, for the sake of his wealth ? No, I would rather work like a slave for the rest of my days, or live in a hovel on bread and water, than do a thing so mean ! '^ Constance had risen as she made this speech, and stood with a lofty air before her father, her countenance expressing more pride and indigna- tion than he had ever witnessed on any former occasion, for her fine lustrous eyes flashed fire, and her lips curled contemptuously as she spoke. Thus excited as Constance appeared. Sir Stephen, therefore, saw on this occasion, his own passionate temper exhibited in his daughter; as, however, the sentiment which excited her was of a far nobler nature than any he had ever experienced EXCITEMENT. 329 himself, he, though it was for the first time in his hfe, felt abashed and calmed ; which sensation acting on his reply, he now, instead of bursting forth in his usual violent manner when contra- dicted, only said earnestly — " What I recommend to you, Constance, is for your own good, and also what would contribute much to my happiness; for to see your future position secured, would afford me the greatest pleasure, and lessen many of my cares ; I am now beset with difficulties of every sort, which I would gladly spare you the necessity of partaking." This unusually gentle remonstrance from Sir Stephen, so different from what she might have expected, produced an instantaneous effect on his daughter; for it is often the case, when we see one accustomed to command despotically, suddenly become almost a suppliant, that we are ready to give up voluntarily, what, under a different address, we should withhold. Constance, therefore, being thus acted upon, instead of con- tinuing to reply to Sir Stephen in the lofty tone she had last adopted, now said, beseechingly, — 330 EXCITEMENT. " If Captain Frazer were any other than the man he is, I would not discard the thought of allying myself to him so decidedly (though it might be long, even in that case, before I could conscientiously accept of him) ; but indeed, my dear father, you know not his character ; I am sure he is b oth unprincipled, and without a single amiable quality, and capable too of the most dishonorable conduct ; and, therefore, were I to become his wife, I should be miserable for life/^ " But Constance, it is you who are mistaken in his character,^^ repHed Sir Stephen, again softly, seeing the advantage he had gained, " for I know of several instances of Captain Frazer^s gene- rosity, one of which is, his lending one of his friends a considerable sum of money/^ Though Constance thought in her own mind that Captain Frazer had only performed this act of generosity, because he was certain of being a gainer in the end, yet as she could not prove that to be the case, she only observed, " that she never judged of any one^s character by a single act/' " And,'' continued Sir Stephen, " his hints in EXCITEMENT. 331 this letter, of his intentions with regard to a settlement on yourself, should you consent to become his wife, are most generous." Constance knew that the report of Captain Frazer^s wealth had much influenced her father in urging her to accept him ; but as she doubted his possessing so much as was reported, she thought she would hint to her father the possi- bihty of the seeming generosity of the Captain proceeding only from cautiousness. With this design, therefore, Constance next observed ; that Captain Frazer's oflPering to allow her a handsome settlement, was the result of a calculation made by him, that her own fortune, settled on herself, would always secure him a handsome income, and allow him to contract as many debts as he pleased, without being obliged to discharge them. On this insinuation however, being hinted at, Sir Stephen, who was fully persuaded of Captain Frazer's possessing wealth, now grew again angry : but perceiving that gentle means were the only ones that had any eff'ect upon his daughter, and fearing to arouse again the spirit she had so 332 EXCITEMENT. lately displayed^ he repressed his inward rage, and only mildly answered, "that he was sorry that Constance could be so unjust, and also so perti- nacious in her own judgment against his superior knowledge/^ " Well, I may be wrong,^^ replied Constance, with a sigh, as she saw her arguments had pro- duced no effect, and feeling fearful she might again excite her father's anger : He, however, seeing his daughter could be moved by entreaties, still repressed his own feelings, which conduct, acting upon Constance, made her yield first one point and then another to his persuasions, until Sir Stephen, continuing to urge, at last succeeded in extracting from her the promise, that she would consider of Captain Frazer's proposal, or rather, that she would not send an answer to it immediately. Though Constance was aware this conduct was hardly honourable, she nevertheless felt she could contend no longer against her father's will; a despairing feeling having suc- ceeded to her previously excited ones ; her gentle nature, too, making her yield, for the sake of EXCITEMENT. 333 peace, to this concession, though she bitterly repented of such weakness afterwards. Thus ended the conference, where might, not right, prevailed — as it too often does in this world, and where such being the case, it Avas, in consequence, a woman who was the sufferer. 334 EXCITEMENT. CHAPTEE XXII. For thee alone, for thee. May this last work, this final triumph be, Thou loved so vainly ! I would leave enshrined Something immortal of my heart and mind That yet may speak to thee when 1 am gone, Shaking thine inmost bosom with a tone Of best affection — something that may prove What she hath been, whose melancholy love On thee was lavished ; silent love, and tear, And fervent song that gushed when none were neai" And dream by night, and weai-y thought by day. Stealing the brightness of her life away." Mrs. Hemans. How often it is the case, that gentle natures yield to domineering ones to preserve peace, though they feel that the peace they obtain by such a proceeding will be only temporary, and that each day fresh sacrifices will be expected from them, and greater demand made upon their forbearancCo This, Constance had often experi- EXCITEMENT. 335 enced ; and now she had been led into yielding in a point of still greater importance than any she had before given up, and where her conscience told her she ought not to have yielded. But now it was, that Constance sought conso- lation in her distress, from her friend Rose ; in her ear pouring forth at last, all the pent-up sorrows in her bosom; and much she had to relate; for her heart once opened, there was an end to reserve : each secret pang, therefore, she now disclosed, and all her daily trials she described, acknowledging too, that her sorrows were much aggravated, by having, in addition to those she suffered from disappointed affection, to endure the increased ill-humour and irritability of her father. — And Rose heard all, and tears stood in her eyes also, when Constance wept. On one point however, Constance did not receive from Rose the consolation which she had hoped for. Rose fully believed Captain Frazer's account of Tremaine^s inconstancy, and therefore expressed no doubt on the truth of that statement, which Constance vainly hoped she would. But on 336 EXCITEMENT. another subject, the mind of Constance was re- lieved by her friend, who, when she explained to her, her dislike of Captain Frazer ; fully justified her in that sentiment, and urged her not to accept his offer ; "for,^^ said Rose, as one day the two friends were sitting together, conversing on the subject, " it is better for you to endure, for a short time, all Sir Stephen^s anger, than to bring upon yourself certain misery to the end of your life/^ " But, oh Rose,^^ replied Constance in a des- ponding tone, " though I feel I can endure his anger patiently, I cannot with equal firmness resist his entreaties ; it is his kindness I dread, more than his violence ; for when he supplicates, then I feel ready to yield ; and doubt also takes possession of my mind, whether I am doing right in disobeying him, for he his my father/^ " Dear Constance ! " answered Rose, as she put her arm round her friend's waist aff'ectionately to support her, as Constance languidly reclined on the sofa beside her, '^ I have thought over which would be the right path for you to pursue, as well as EXCITEMENT. 337 which would be the wisest, and have come to the conclusion, that when a parent urges his child to make a false vow, there is no crime in that child refusing acquiescence, for submission, in that case, is only weakness. Were you to consent to become the wife of Captain Frazer, you would certainly have to vow, to love, honour, and obey him; and though you might conscientiously promise to fulfil the last clause, I am certain you could not, with equal truth, promise either of the former, or if you did, you would fail in your word before a month had expired.^' " But Rose, dear Rose, I cannot long struggle with firmness against my father^s commands,^' continued Constance, still in a tone of the deepest despondency, " for since I have heard of Edward's having forgotten me, I have felt in such a state of hopeless wretchedness, that it would be easier for me to submit, and to die, than to resist any longer.^' " Say not so, dear Constance,'^ said Rose, now in a remonstrating tone, and she was going to add, — " such a reason for submission is unworthy Q 338 EXCITEMENT. of you; but, as she saw the tears rolling down the cheeks of her friend, the reproof died on her lips, and soothing words of consolation were sub- stituted, taken from that Book which ever con- soles the afflicted. In this manner it was, that Constance and Rose passed several weary days, the one lamenting and the other consoling; the consolation offered, however, though it softened, being ineffectual to chase away grief. The last information that Constance had re- ceived — that of the false account of her lover^s infidelity — was not only an unexpected blow, but it had an effect upon her she had not calculated on experiencing. Imagining that she really be- lieved Edward Tremaine to be unworthy of her affection, she had thought, that after having made that discovery, that nothing more that could take place, could affect her acutely : in this supposition, however, she had been deceived, for hitherto the hope, though faint, that the world might have condemned him unjustly, had, without her being aware of it, supported her through every trial; EXCITEMENT. 339 though latterly, since Dudley Seymour's recovery, she could not account for his continued silence. Now, however, she felt all was explained; this last communication accounted for it, — Tremaine had forgotten her ! or, since four months was but a short period for the dispersion of the ten- der love he had professed to feel, — perhaps he had never loved her, and her life had only been a de- ceptions dream. Thus it was, therefore, that Constance felt, and these feehngs were further embittered by the con- viction, which the knowledge of her lover's sup- posed inconstancy brought with it, namely, '^ that if all his professions of attachment had been false, or made only to gain her hand and fortune, he might likewise be the thoroughly deceitful character which her father represented him as being, and that now, consequently, she ought no longer to believe him innocent of the charge of dishonourable intentions against his cousin." As the reflections of Constance, therefore, ran thus, and as she also asked herself the question of " whether, since Tremaine had proved himself a 340 EXCITEMENT. hypocrite, Captain Frazer might not be a man of honour ?^^ it was not surprising that between these contending feelings she should bedew her pillow with her tears; — yes, one by one, they rolled down her cheeks, for there was no one near to whisper hope — no one near to tell her the ac- count was false, and that Tremaine was still true to her, and still the honourable being she had once believed him to be. "Yes,^^ thought Constance, "the tale must be true, for if Edward still loved me, — if he still valued the possession of that hand which he has so often pressed with affection ; and if his con- science acquitted him of any dishonourable inten- tions against his cousin, he would write, and ex- plain all to my father ! but he does not, because he cannot — or he abandons me because he has ceased to love me ; I had better, therefore, sacri- fice myself to my father's wishes, as that, at least, will be doing my duty, and the trial will not be long, for death will soon release me from my miserable life ! " It was thus Constance condemned her lover — EXCITEMENT. 341 and thus Constance reasoned ; but as the con- templation of death brought with it also thoughts of eternity, from which all shrink when the pros- pect is near, — Constance, too, shrunk from it in dismay, for she found pride still lurking in her heart, increasing her anguish; since, was it not wounded pride which made her feel the desertion of her lover more acutely than his unworthiness ? Bitterly, therefore, as Constance wept, these re- flections made her likewise pray fervently. END OF VOL. I. Printed by G, E. NiAS, 38, Gracechurch Strcft. rOUND BY ' NE S SCN UNIVERSITY OF ILUNOIS-URBANA 3 0112 045830764