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 VvU
 
 "LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 82.3 
 
 C7G52 
 
 v.i
 
 CONSTANCY 
 
 AND 
 
 CONTRITION. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 CONSTANCY 
 
 CONTRITION 
 
 Sonesto amor puo meritar mercede, 
 E se pietk pub quant' ella suole, 
 Mercede avrb. 
 
 PETRARCA. 
 
 The crime of old, which seemed long dead 
 Lifts up again its head! 
 
 THOUGHTS IN PAST YEARS. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 1844.
 
 LONDON": 
 
 Printed by Schulze and Co., 13, Poland Street.
 
 823 
 
 CTGSe 
 V, 1 
 
 CONSTANCY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Oh ! quante sono incantatrici, oh quanti 
 Incantator tra noi, che non si sanno, 
 Che con lor arti, uomini e donne amanti 
 Di sfe, cangiando i visi lor, fatto hanno ! 
 
 E con simulazion, menzogne e frodi 
 Legano i cor d'indissolubil nodi. 
 
 ARIOSTO. 
 
 ^, Lady Sylvester came forward to receive her 
 
 ^^ visitor with the utmost affection ; taking both her 
 
 "> hands in hers, she kissed her first on one cheek, 
 
 : and then on the other, exclaiming with great ten- 
 
 fY^ derness : 
 
 " My dearest girl, my sweet Mercedes, the very 
 '^ person in the world whom I most desired to see. 
 ^ You must come to me to-day. You must dine 
 with me. I can hear of no excuse, my love, 
 i'^rundel is coming up from Oxford instead of 
 *^ going into Yorkshire. You must dine with us, 
 ^ and afterwards we must take him to the opera, 
 
 ^^ VOL. L B
 
 2 CONSTANCY. 
 
 for he will not stay at home all the evening ; and 
 he is so handsome that I like to show him. By 
 the bye, of course, you were going ?" 
 
 And she cast an inquiring glance at Mercedes. 
 
 Miss Ratcliife coloured, and for a moment did 
 not reply; then, with a slight embarrassment of 
 manner, she said : 
 
 " In fact, dear Lady Sylvester, I had no inten- 
 tion of going to the opera to-night; for I have 
 lent my box to Mrs. Johnson, my cousin." 
 
 " Dear me, that is unfortunate. Who did you 
 say, my love ? Mrs. Jackson — who is she ?" 
 
 " Mrs. Johnson," replied Mercedes with more 
 confidence, " is my cousin." 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! But still if she have no box of 
 her own, I should think that it would be quite the 
 same to her what night she goes. Don't you 
 agree with me, dearest ? How kind and generous 
 you always are ! Always forgetting yourself and 
 thinking of others ! Well ! we must stay at home 
 to-night and let this tiresome Mrs. Johnson en- 
 joy Donizetti's delightful music; unless, indeed, 
 you like, as I said before, to lend her the box 
 another evening." 
 
 Mercedes coloured : she felt ashamed to adopt 
 Lady Sylvester's suggestion, and yet was very 
 desirous to oblige her. She scarcely knew her 
 cousin, and there was very little sympathy be- 
 tween the native refinement and the native 
 vulgarity that alike distinguished them. Delibera- 
 tion has long been proverbially dangerous, and
 
 CONSTANCY. 3 
 
 here, as usual, it afforded time for the enemy to 
 gain the day. Mercedes, when she replied, did 
 not refuse to accede to a proposal made by Lady 
 Sylvester, that she should write a note to her 
 cousin, explaining how she had thoughtlessly for- 
 gotten that her opera box had already been placed 
 at the disposal of another friend. Having thus 
 decided this point. Lady Sylvester turned the con- 
 versation immediately to other subjects, and found, 
 or made, many opportunities of mentioning her 
 son ; but Mercedes felt a species of remorse at the 
 idea of recalhng the trifling act of kindness which 
 she had performed, that prevented her from deriv- 
 ing the same pleasure from Lady Sylvester's society 
 that it usually afforded her. Feeling her spirits 
 flag, though she had not time to analyse the cause, 
 she took leave of her friend sooner than she had 
 intended and departed. 
 
 When alone, she began to think over the apology 
 she had undertaken to offer ; and on a calm recollec- 
 tion of it, she was so shocked to find herself on the 
 brink of being guilty of such meanness as to com- 
 mit a deliberate falsehood to paper that she burst 
 into tears. What was she to do ? Should she 
 return to Lady Sylvester and declare her incapacity 
 to act thus ? How weak and childish an appear- 
 ance would such conduct wear ! Besides, it would 
 convey a rebuke which she was certain was unde- 
 served. Lady Sylvester could only have spoken 
 without thought — a bright and consolatory idea 
 entered her mind; and springing up in the car- 
 
 B 2
 
 4 CONSTANCY. 
 
 riage, she pulled the check-string impetuously, and 
 desired the servant to drive immediately to the 
 hookseller's. When there, she eagerly inquired 
 what opera boxes for the evening were free ; there 
 was only one remaining, and the price demanded 
 for it was exorbitant. She hesitated for a moment ; 
 the man respectfully assured her that inquiries else- 
 where would be useless. Mercedes hesitated no 
 longer, but cheerfully paying the price he named, 
 drove home, and despatched the ticket of it to 
 her cousin. She now felt partially restored to self- 
 satisfaction, but still smarted a little under the 
 sense of folly. 
 
 Perhaps this introduction of Mercedes to our 
 readers will make them suspect that such an im- 
 putation would not be groundless. We will, there- 
 fore, explain VN^ho Mercedes was, and how she was 
 situated. When we proceed to say that she was 
 at this time only eighteen, remarkably beautiful, the 
 only child of a most indulgent father, and motherless 
 almost from her birth, we hope at once to engage 
 feelings of interest and compassion on her side, that 
 shall induce them to consider her faults, be they 
 what they may, with a predisposition to leniency. 
 
 Mr. Ratchffe, the father of Mercedes, was a 
 merchant, whose career in commerce had been 
 attended with singular success ; his wealth had in- 
 creased to an enormous extent, and the interests of 
 this child, the sole object of his affections, were the 
 end of all his labours. Her mother was a Portu- 
 guese; a woman whose remarkable beauty and
 
 CONSTANCY. 5 
 
 sweetness of disposition had won his love. Their 
 union was productive of mutual happiness ; hut she 
 seemed to miss the warmth of her native skies, 
 and daily faded away ; her unhappy hushand was 
 ere long forced to open his eyes to the fact that 
 death was approaching with rapid strides. That 
 she should immediately quit England was indis- 
 pensable ; that he should accompany her was im- 
 possible. His duty to all engaged with him in the 
 daring speculations in which he had embarked, 
 forbid him to entertain the thought. In this agony 
 of distress he knew not where to turn. 
 
 In early life, Mr. Ratcliffe had been united in 
 ties of the strictest friendship with a young man 
 considerably his senior, of the name of Wilmot, 
 whom a taste for study, retired habits, and extreme 
 shyness and reserve of nature, wholly unfitted for 
 those active walks in life which, for Ratcliffe, possess- 
 ed peculiar charms. His learning and his abihties 
 qualified him to undertake with confidence the 
 charge of pupils, and by so doing he gained a 
 scanty subsistence, but was unable to entertain any 
 hope of uniting himself to a woman to whom he 
 had been long and sincerely attached. Ratcliife 
 felt much compassion for his situation, and he 
 became greatly interested in his success. He was 
 himself by no means so friendless as Wilmot ; 
 and before he had decided on the avocation which 
 he finally pursued, a gentleman offered him a small 
 living in the church, telling him, that, with his 
 abilities, he thought he might feel assured of rising
 
 b CONSTANCY. 
 
 in this profession with much greater certainty, 
 and at a less expense of anxiety and toil than 
 in any to which the natural bent of his mind 
 inclined him. But so total was the distaste that 
 Ratcliffe felt for the quiet secluded life proposed to 
 him, that he at once rejected the offer. With 
 some hesitation, and more of fear than hope, he 
 afterwards ventured to suggest to his friendly 
 patron the substitution of Wilmot instead of him- 
 self ; and to his joy, his suggestion was favourably 
 received. Great was the gratitude of the two 
 persons whom he thus contributed to make so un- 
 expectedly happy ; and a day arrived in which they 
 manifested the sincerity and strength of their feel- 
 ing towards him yet more in actions than in words. 
 At the time when Mr. Ratcliffe was so deeply dis- 
 tressed at the prospect of sending his young wife, 
 perhaps, to die in a foreign land, Mrs. Wilmot 
 came forward and offered to accompany her to 
 Madeira, and to remain there during the winter 
 with her. 
 
 Such a proposition, as little to be hoped for as 
 to be requested, was, after the combat of many 
 scruples, at last accepted ; and Mrs. Wilmot at- 
 tended for months on the unfortunate invalid with 
 the unwearied care of a sister. She finally expired 
 in her arms, commending the infant Mercedes, who 
 had remained beneath her father's roof, to her love. 
 This injunction she had but little opportunity of 
 obeying. The young heiress was the object of too 
 much solicitude to need the care of the humble
 
 CONSTANCY. 7 
 
 clergyman's wife, and in the privacy of her coun- 
 try life she soon lost sight of her charge. 
 
 We have said enough to show that Mr. Rat- 
 cliffe was a man of a generous disposition and a 
 warm heart ; his character also bore strong marks 
 of ambition and vanity. The first had obtained 
 all the food it desired in the high station he had 
 reached, and the esteem and repute which he had 
 long enjoyed ; but the gratifications that the latter 
 looked for were to be procured only through his 
 child. 
 
 Her beauty — so like her mother's — her loveli- 
 ness, her excellence, were the themes on which 
 his thoughts still ran ; for her he toiled — for her he 
 amassed riches ; and he deemed no alliance worthy 
 of her but with the highest of the land. He had 
 aspirations for her far beyond any he had ever had 
 for himself. He had never sought favour with 
 the great ; he had never coveted their titles ; on 
 the contrary, he had been well content to rank 
 himself as one of the most distinguished of the 
 aristocracy of wealth, and neither envied nor flat- 
 tered those who were numbered in the aristocracy 
 of rank. But as his child grew old enough to 
 enter into society, such a " change came o'er the 
 spirit of his dream," that he really felt more grati- 
 tude to Lady Sylvester for the fondness which she 
 lavished on his daughter, than had ever been ex- 
 cited by him for any benefit received, except, in- 
 deed, by the attendance of Mrs. Wilmot on her 
 dying mother.
 
 8 CONSTANCY, 
 
 Though Mr. Ratcliffe thus betrayed great weak- 
 ness, and an undue estimation of the pomps and 
 vanities of the world, his affection for his child was 
 far too strong to allow him to place any object in 
 competition with her happiness. She was not the 
 tool with which his ambition designed to work; 
 her welfare was in all sincerity the object he had in 
 view ; therefore, while he confided his daughter to 
 Lady Sylvester he could not divest himself of many 
 an anxious care on her account. In spite of his 
 willingness to be blinded, he could not wholly blind 
 himself to the dangers of the position which he had 
 chosen for her. He could not be ignorant that many 
 a scheme would be laid to entrap the heiress of 
 so much reputed wealth ; he knew that her simpli- 
 city and her youth would be practised on by many 
 deceivers; and he felt that as long as she was 
 at the mercy of the fashionable multitude with 
 which he had bid her mingle he should never know 
 peace of mind. 
 
 In his anxiety to secure her from the perils 
 which he foresaw, but from which nevertheless 
 he would not withdraw her, he attempted to arm 
 her against them by revealing to her their exist- 
 ence; by preparing her to distrust, and teaching 
 her to examine. So much had he insisted on 
 the mercenary motives which he told her would 
 actuate most of those who would address her in 
 terms of flattering devotion, that she shrank in 
 terror away from much that would otherwise have 
 allured her. Entrusted as she was to Lady Sylvester,
 
 CONSTANCY. y 
 
 she believed that in her, her father must have confi- 
 dence ; and sick of suspicion, which was most 
 repugnant to her nature, she dehghted in the 
 idea that she was permitted to love her friend 
 withput pausing for scrutiny, and to trust in 
 the sincerity of the love which was professed in 
 return. 
 
 With Lord Sylvester, the present Viscount, Mr. 
 Ratcliffe was well acquainted, and for him he 
 felt an esteem that he accorded to few. The manly 
 uprightness and simplicity of his character, the 
 singular amiability of his deportment towards his 
 equals, his inferiors, and his dependants ; the self- 
 respect and self-reliance which all his actions 
 evinced, excited Mr. Ratcliife's unqualified appro- 
 bation. The possibility of an attachment to his 
 daughter springing up in the heart of the young 
 nobleman, was by no means an unpleasing subject 
 of meditation to Mr. Ratcliffe ; but he did not 
 disguise from himself that, as his personal ap- 
 pearance was even less than commonly prepossess- 
 ing, and as his devotion to arts and learning, his 
 studious habits, and consequent abstraction from ge- 
 neral society, had hitherto induced him to allow his 
 youth to pass on without forming any aUiance, 
 though rank, wealth, and beauty were ahke within 
 his reach, it was highly improbable that he would 
 be the first to seek, and still more so, that he 
 would be the first to win the affections of so young 
 and lovely a woman as his daughter. Still it 
 pleased him to imagine that in the eagerness 
 
 B 3
 
 1 CONSTANCY. 
 
 with which Lady Sylvester sought Miss Ratcliffe's 
 acquaintance he could read a similar desire, and 
 it w^as with disappointment and a secret mis- 
 giving, that he casually discovered that she was 
 only the step-mother of the present Viscount ; 
 and that she had a son then at the university. 
 This discovery caused him to feel a degree of 
 uncertainty as to her plans for the future ; but 
 the intimacy which had already sprung up was too 
 flattering to his vanity, and afforded too many pre- 
 sent advantages to his daughter, to allow" him rashly 
 to cut it short ; and, besides, he could not resolve 
 to deprive Mercedes of an intercourse which seemed 
 to give her so much pleasure.
 
 CONSTANCY. ] 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 If brighter beams than all he threw not forth, 
 'Twas negligence in him, not want of worth. 
 
 *P0PE. 
 
 Son propre est de donner du tour a ce qu'il dit, et de la 
 grace a ce qu'il fait. 
 
 Mercedes felt herself stimulated by the expec- 
 tation of meeting the son of her friend for the first 
 time, to bestow more than ordinary care on 
 her toilette. His mother had always spoken of 
 him so much, and so tenderly; he was so evi- 
 dently the idol of her heart, and the object of 
 all her ambition ; she was so engrossed by plans 
 for his future advantage^ so sanguine in her expec- 
 tations of success that awaited him, that Mercedes, 
 influenced by the warm affection that Lady Sylves- 
 ter's lavished kindness had already won from her, 
 for her sake regarded him with an interest beyond 
 that of mere curiosity. 
 
 Perhaps Mercedes was vain ; she was certainly 
 not without pride — defensive, not ofl'ensive pride. 
 She saw that her father aspired to place her in 
 a rank of society above that to which her birth and 
 station entitled her ; such as in fact could only be 
 purchased by his wealth. But to dwell upon this
 
 1 2 CONSTANCY. 
 
 fact was too mortifying ; it pleased her better 
 to believe that the charms of her person, and the 
 qualities of her mind, when seen and known, would 
 not be without weight ; and it also pleased her 
 better to attribute those sarcasms which the con- 
 duct of the father called forth, and which some- 
 times reached the ears of the daughter, wholly 
 to envy and jealousy, rather than to give any 
 consideration to the truths which they in some 
 measure contained. Still, in spite of thus striving 
 to fortify herself against all rude antagonists, she 
 entered those circles in which she felt her foo ting- 
 to be insecure, and her reception doubtful, with 
 some reluctance, and a shyness, partly arising from 
 her unprotected youth, and partly from a species of 
 proud humility that made her shrink from those 
 whom she felt to be at once above and below 
 her. 
 
 In this uncomfortable state of mind, the ex- 
 treme kindness which she met with from Lady 
 Sylvester, the acknowledged fascination of her 
 manners; her perfect self-possession and know- 
 ledge of every thing which it was desirable for Mer- 
 cedes to know; the ready tact and unoppressive 
 good nature with which she instructed and directed 
 her, gave a charm to her society to which Mercedes 
 was naturally fully alive. " Soyez complaisant 
 sans faire valoir vos complaisances," is the advice 
 of a French author ; and Mercedes would have said 
 that the injunction was never more completely ful- 
 filled than by her beloved Lady Sylvester.
 
 CONSTANCY. 13 
 
 Miss Ratcliffe had heard from many that this 
 family were remarkable for the pride of high birth; 
 probably this information rendered doubly delight- 
 ful the cordial affection which she met with from 
 her newly found friend. But, in the progress of 
 their acquaintance she felt disposed to acquiesce in 
 the truth of the imputation, even as relating to her 
 individually, so far, that had any one said to her: 
 *' Lady Sylvester designs you for her son," she 
 would have ridiculed and rejected the supposition. 
 She had been led to imagine, from all she had 
 observed and all she had heard, that nothing 
 would occasion a severer mortification to Lady 
 Sylvester, than for Mr. Wentworth to ally himself 
 with a woman of obscure birth ; and the total dis- 
 regard for money which she evinced by the en- 
 couragement to lavish expenditure which Mer- 
 cedes received from her, and of which she set her 
 the example, forbid the thought that mercenary 
 motives could have force to conquer this bias of 
 her mind. Such was the impression that Lady 
 Sylvester made on her young companion. Whether 
 this was done involuntarily or intentionally; whether 
 it was a true or a false one, our tale will reveal. 
 
 Mercedes on her arrival was again received by 
 Lady Sylvester with as many demonstrations of 
 tenderness as in the morning. She then presented 
 her son to her with an air of proud delight, and 
 seemed scarcely able to refrain from demanding a 
 tribute of praise from her, even before she had 
 heard him speak. The hour of dinner passed on
 
 14 CONSTANCY. 
 
 agreeably ; for as Mr. Wentworth had not spent 
 an evening in the society of his mother and 
 brother for many months, he now did so without 
 experiencing any insupportable degree of ennui. 
 He was not at all disappointed in the expectations 
 which his mother had raised with regard to the 
 beauty of her young protegee ; and from the 
 moment that he perceived the friendliness that 
 subsisted between her and Lord Sylvester, he was 
 seized with a desire to make her feel how immea- 
 surably superior were his own powers of attraction 
 to those possessed by his brother; and also to 
 efface effectually from her mind all other candidates 
 for her favour that had yet appeared. No spirit of 
 emulation, however, was excited in his brother ; 
 who, on the contrary, was more than usually 
 silent. He was secretly occupied in observing with 
 no small curiosity the conduct of both his mother 
 and his brother, nor did he remark with indifference 
 the effect which it seemed likely to produce on the 
 object of it. 
 
 Mercedes ceased to feel surprise at the maternal 
 pride and affection of Lady Sylvester, when she be- 
 came acquainted with their object. Arundel's person 
 presented a most striking resemblance to that of 
 his mother, who was still distinguished for her 
 remarkable beauty. His countenance and manner 
 were lively ; his conversation, though superficial, 
 was sparkling with ready wit, and animated by an 
 eager desire to please. In all these respects he 
 afforded a complete contrast to his elder brother.
 
 CONSTANCY. 1 9 
 
 Lord Sylvester was usually silent and abstracted; 
 he could speak well on those subjects in which he 
 was interested ; on others he did not often speak 
 at all. He seldom expressed his opinions so as 
 to make them evident to any but those who were 
 of the number of his friends. He was rather 
 slow to show either his likings or his dislikes ; his 
 manner was uniformly polite to his equals and to 
 his inferiors ; deferential only to those whose cha- 
 racters he approved, whose abilities he admired, 
 or whose age he reverenced. His voice, always 
 pleasing, was peculiarly kind and gentle when he 
 addressed either women or children ; it was not 
 the fulsome or unmeaning languag;e of flattery that 
 he gave as a tribute to the former ; his address 
 was rather such as a mother or a sister would 
 desire, and would repay with grateful affection. 
 
 To these excellent qualities Mercedes was not 
 insensible ; and she entertained a sincere friend- 
 ship for Lord Sylvester, who had always treated 
 her with marked consideration and attention ; for 
 he easily perceived that in many respects her tastes, 
 feelings, and natural bent of mind amalgamated 
 with his own; and could discern that her intel- 
 lectual powers, though as yet little developed from 
 want of cultivation, were of a superior order. But 
 much as Mercedes esteemed him, she had never 
 seen him display that brilliancy which she per- 
 ceived in his brother, nor any of that vivacity to 
 which the sprightliness of youth gives a charm 
 almost as great as that possessed by wit ; she did
 
 1 6 CONSTANCY. 
 
 not believe that his presence could diffuse the same 
 life which that of his brother seemed so capable of 
 imparting to any circle into which he should enter. 
 New to the world, and a stranger to aught but 
 prosperity, Mercedes was far too happy to be 
 difficult to please. Lady Sylvester soon found 
 an opportunity of ascertaining that her wishes, 
 with regard to the opera, had been complied with 
 and Lord Sylvester left the field entirely open to 
 Wentworth by declining to accompany them 
 thither. 
 
 Miss Ratcliffe had no sooner entered her box 
 and placed herself in her usual seat, than she per- 
 ceived that her cousin's party was at a little dis- 
 tance, and quite within sight of them. She well 
 knew that Mrs. Johnson's heart would be over- 
 flowing with gratitude and delight, which would 
 doubtless be expressed by " nods, and becks, and 
 wreathed smiles ;" and when she glanced at 
 Arundel at her side, she almost repented that she 
 had placed herself in a situation of so much an- 
 noyance. As soon, however, as she saw that she 
 was recognised beyond a doubt, she summoned up 
 all the courage she possessed, and bowed her head 
 in acknowledgment of the many tokens of greet- 
 ing which she received from them. Having thus 
 accomphshed her duty, she for the first time ven- 
 tured to raise her eyes to the faces of her com- 
 panions, in order to learn from their countenances, 
 what effect the personal vulgarity and outre attire 
 of those whom she was forced to acknowledi>:e as
 
 CONSTANCY. 1 7 
 
 relatives had upon them ; — but the imperturba- 
 bility of good breeding saved her from reading 
 anything there that could add to her embarrass- 
 ment. 
 
 In time, therefore, she regained her satisfaction, 
 and listened with pleasure to the remarks of 
 Arundel, when suddenly directing her eyes (by 
 that strange fatality that always forces them to 
 turn in the direction of any object of aversion) 
 towards the party she regarded with so much dis- 
 may, she saw emerging in the back ground the 
 head of the heir of the house of Johnson, the 
 eldest hope of the family ! From that moment 
 her enjoyment was effectually destroyed ; she was 
 seized with the apprehension that he at least would 
 pay her a visit, and every time the door opened, 
 she started in expectation of hearing the loud, 
 familiar greeting of her cousin, who she knew pro- 
 fessed to honour her with his particular admiration. 
 She thought too with horror of the probability of 
 encountering them in leaving the house, of being 
 watched and waylaid by them ; she reproached 
 herself with her weak compliance with her friend's 
 unreasonable request, and began to see the in- 
 delicacy of it. Half disposed to be displeased, 
 she turned abruptly to Lady Sylvester, and telling 
 her that she had a head-ache, expressed her wish 
 to return home as soon as the opera was concluded, 
 without waiting for the ballet. By this arrange- 
 ment she knew that her departure would far pre- 
 cede that of her cousin, who would have a lauda-
 
 1 8 CONSTANCY. 
 
 ble desire of deriving all possible enjoyment 
 from the unusual means of pleasure afforded 
 to her. Lady Sylvester, who was perfectly alive 
 to the cause of her annoyance, saw that it 
 would be injudicious at this moment to trifle 
 with her feelings or to differ from her wishes, 
 so instantly assunaing a tone of affectionate in- 
 terest, she expressed the utmost impatience to 
 comply with her request, which they accordingly 
 did. 
 
 " And this is the end of an anticipated evening 
 of pleasure !" exclaimed Mercedes, as after leaving 
 Lady Sylvester at her own house, she threw her- 
 self back in her carriage and experienced inex- 
 pressible relief in solitude. 
 
 On the following day, however, she found rea- 
 son to rejoice that the occurrences of the past 
 evening were no worse than they had been. At 
 a very early hour, Mrs. Johnson and her daughters 
 arrived, " Determined," as she said, " to find her 
 at home and not to be disappointed of seeing her." 
 As she uttered these words, Mercedes shrank 
 from her embrace, and offering her a seat with as 
 good a grace as she could assume, placed herself 
 beside her. Mrs. Johnson, as if to detain her 
 (though she really had no design of moving, how- 
 ever great might be her desire to do so) placed 
 her large and heavy hand on her arm, and began 
 to pour forth her thanks which were echoed by 
 each of her cousins. 
 
 These acknowledgments, to which she listened
 
 CONSTANCY. 1 5 
 
 unwillingly, feeling that she scarcely deserved them 
 were followed by inquiries of — " How did you get 
 there ? I am sure you might have come with us 
 if you had liked ; there was room enough for 
 another twice your size. There was no occasion 
 for you to go in any one's box but your own. 
 Pray, who were you with ?" 
 
 " Liady Sylvester," replied Mercedes faintly. 
 
 " Oh ! one of your grand friends. Fred wanted 
 to pay you a visit, but we told him that the box 
 certainly must belong to the lady with you, and as 
 he did not know her, he might as well stay where 
 he was. Indeed, at first when I saw you so near," 
 added Mrs. Johnson, " I had more than half a 
 mind to drop in myself just to say a word to you, 
 but the girls would not hear of it." 
 
 Mercedes never felt so affectionately disposed 
 towards her cousins as on hearing of the visitation 
 from which they had saved her. Still, after a 
 little further conversation, she could not refrain 
 from looking at her watch in a manner that signi- 
 fied that other engagements called her from them. 
 This action being repeated, drew forth an inquiry 
 from Mrs. Johnson as to what she was going to do 
 with herself. 
 
 " I have ordered my carriage early to-day," said 
 Mercedes. 
 
 *' Indeed ! You must often be very lonely, my 
 dear. I am sure whenever you want a companion 
 in a drive, one of my girls will always be happy 
 to go with you. You don't see enough of each
 
 20 CONSTANCY. 
 
 other for cousins ; I don't know how it is. Are 
 you by yourself to-day ?" 
 
 " No ; Lady Sylvester will be with me. I shall 
 call for her." 
 
 This reply silenced Mrs. Johnson, who now took 
 her departure. 
 
 In fact, Mr. RatcMe's relations showed a won- 
 derful anxiety to undertake the care of his mother- 
 less child, hoping probably to participate in the 
 advantages of her father's wealth, which he so 
 liberally communicated to her ; and they appeared 
 to consider themselves injured and aggrieved, when 
 he uniformly declined their proffered services, and 
 chose to select her companions and friends in 
 another rank from that to which she was by birth 
 most closely allied. 
 
 Mercedes, however, found it easy to check Mrs. 
 Johnson's vulgar importunity, but not so to resist 
 the delicate advances of Lady Sylvester.
 
 CONSTANCY. ^1 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " L'homme n*est que deguisement, que mensonge, et 
 hypocrisie, et en soi-m^me, et a I'egard des autres. Ainsi 
 la vie humaine n'est qu'une illusion perpetuelle ; on ne fait 
 que s'entre-tromper et s'entre-flatter." — pascal. 
 
 " Your presence here, my dear Anindel," said 
 Lady Sylvester, " far from being productive of any 
 good consequences, can do nothing but harm. Mr. 
 Ratcliffe has Httle intention of giving his beautiful 
 daughter to the younger son of a Viscount. To 
 your brother he would not perhaps object, but I see 
 no danger threatening in that quarter. The grounds 
 of my fears at present are these : Mercedes never 
 will ' un wooed be won ;' and if you attempt to win 
 her, she will be taken from us, re-instated in her 
 father's house, and consigned to the care of some 
 respectable relative, such as we saw last night, 
 which would be very sad for her, poor thing, as 
 well as for us. So this we will not provoke. In- 
 deed, I have foreseen and prepared for all such 
 difficulties long since." 
 
 " What an unattainable talent you have for 
 intrigue, plot, and counterplot, dear mother," re- 
 plied Arundel, who found much amusement in 
 listening to the development of his mother's plans.
 
 22 CONSTANCY. 
 
 " Talleyrand might have respected you, and no 
 doubt would have profited much by the posses- 
 sion of such an advantage as I have in listening 
 to you." 
 
 " I believe it," answered Lady Sylvester com- 
 placently. " But I have much to say which shall 
 demand still more admiration. In order to have 
 this pretty child completely at my own disposal, I 
 deem it absolutely necessary to remove her from 
 under her father's eye. She loves him passion- 
 ately; and I know that every night of her life, 
 when she returns to him, she repeats every occur- 
 rence, trifling or important, of the past day. While 
 she can do this, we have little power to go against 
 his inclinations. Whatever you do will imme- 
 diately be made known to him, and if you make 
 the slightest progress in the young lady's affec- 
 tions, it will be quickly visible to his anxious eye. 
 Therefore I advise you to go away before you have 
 made an impression at all. I wish I could hope 
 that she would not even mention your name to 
 him." 
 
 " Can you suppose that all my conversational 
 powers were exerted in vain last night ? You do 
 not estimate them properly, and you forget that 
 she has seen me." 
 
 " Conceited creature ! we women do not surren- 
 der to a handsome face as you do. We accept 
 homage, we do not pay it. So beautiful a girl as 
 Mercedes Ratcliffe loves to receive the tribute of 
 admiration rather than to give it."
 
 CONSTANCY. 23 
 
 " But, mother, if you banish me now, when and 
 where are we to meet again ?" 
 
 " At Philippi !" replied Lady Sylvester. " Lis- 
 ten, and you shall hear a master-stroke of policy. 
 I have actually, previously to your arrival, obtained 
 from her father a consent that she shall pass the 
 winter with me in Italy ; and why should you not 
 come out to us and do the same ?" 
 
 " I will come with you, if you like ; and strada 
 facendo, I can make love more pleasantly, and with 
 less inconvenience than at any other time." 
 
 " How can you suppose it possible that I shall 
 allow you to leave England with us ? And do not, 
 I beg, let me ever hear again of trouble or incon- 
 venience, when I am offering you a golden prize 
 that half the eldest sons in England might covet. 
 You must not prove ' a peevish school-boy, worth- 
 less of such honour.' " 
 
 " Honour !" repeated Arundel, tossing his head 
 haughtily ; "I think that the blood of the Went- 
 worths was hardly meant to mix its current with 
 the muddy stream that flows in the veins of a 
 citizen's daughter." 
 
 And the colour that mounted on his cheek 
 showed that his pride really smarted at this 
 thought. Lady Sylvester regarded him for a mo- 
 ment with a smile of derision, which expression 
 however she chose to quahfy by a mixture of 
 admiration ; and then she said, 
 
 " Well, I intend to avail myself of this little 
 ebullition of pride, which is not altogether uncon-
 
 24 CONSTANCY. 
 
 genial to my own temper, and shall make use of 
 it to impress on Mercedes's mind a sense of the 
 greatness of the honour we shall confer on her hy 
 permitting such an union, and the disinterestedness 
 and strength of the attachment that can incline us 
 to do so." 
 
 " Indeed, my dear mother," replied Arundel, 
 not without a sneer, " you will be very clever, or 
 Miss Ratcliife very silly, if you can carry imposi- 
 tion to such a length. In the meantime, if I am 
 not to stay here, I shall run down to Dovor and 
 see my friend Norton. He is there with his sister, 
 Mrs. Annesly Marchmont, whose husband is too ill 
 to cross the channel. If he were to depart this life, 
 the fair widow (whom by the bye I am very de- 
 sirous to behold) would offer no bad speculation for 
 younger sons ; and you, mother, I am sure, must 
 approve of my providing two strings to my bow." 
 
 Such was the conversation w^hich was inter- 
 rupted by the arrival of Miss Ratcliife, according 
 to her appointment ; and Lady Sylvester de- 
 spatched Arundel to invite her to enter, as she was 
 not ready to accompany her immediately. She 
 wished to receive her with her customary demon- 
 stration of affection, and then turning to Arundel, 
 she said : 
 
 " You may amuse Miss Ratcliffe while I prepare 
 to go out ; and if you succeed tolerably well, I will 
 reward you by begging her to allow you to accom- 
 pany us." 
 
 So saying she left the room, leaving Arundel
 
 CONSTANCY. 25 
 
 disposed to obey her injunctions, and by no means 
 distrusting his powers of doing so. But if Lady 
 Sylvester's raillery had caused him no embarrass- 
 ment, it was not so with Mercedes : she blushed 
 deeply, and replied entirely a. tort et a travers to 
 some very trifling remark with which he com 
 menced the conversation. Her mind was still 
 running on the disagreeable remembrance of the 
 past evening, and she thought that in the eyes of 
 Wentworth she could only appear as a citizen's 
 daughter for whom her father's wealth had pur- 
 chased a station in society which was entirely a 
 false one, and for which the vulgarity of her asso- 
 ciates at home must wholly disqualify her. And 
 this was in fact the light in which Mr. Wentworth 
 did regard her. That her own innate refinement 
 and superior qualities of mind gave her a distinc- 
 tion above that which is merely conventional, 
 Wentworth was not quick to discover as his brother 
 had been ; nor w^ould this knowledge have won 
 from him any feeling of respect so great as that 
 which he was disposed to pay to her wealth. He 
 was, it is true, rejoiced to find the two possessions 
 of beauty and riches, those which were alone able 
 to engage his affections, so closely united in an 
 uncommon degree. His vanity, which he had 
 expected to find deeply mortified by this projected 
 alliance was, on the contrary, gratified at the idea 
 of carrying off a prize as fitted to excite the pas- 
 sion of love as that of avarice. Mercedes could 
 not but comply with Lady Sylvester's request 3 and 
 VOL. I. c
 
 26 CONSTANCY. 
 
 Wentworth accompanied them in their drive. In 
 the agreeable conversation that ensued, Mercedes 
 forgot the mortification she had experienced. 
 Every succeeding hour seemed to strengthen Lady 
 Sylvester's hopes of final success ; but she was too 
 wise to allow the elation of triumph to induce her 
 to alter the plan of actioh which she had laid out 
 with so much previous reflection. She would not 
 defer Arundel's banishment a single day beyond the 
 one originally fixed, but rigidly insisted on his de- 
 parture ; particularly as she was alarmed by an in- 
 quiry from Mr. Ratcliffe as to whether Arundel was 
 to accompany them in their visit to the continent. 
 To this she rephed in the negative. 
 
 " We shall not want Arundel," she said, " for 
 Sylvester will be with us." 
 
 She therefore eagerly dismissed Arundel, agree- 
 ing with him that they were to meet at Rome in 
 November. She by no means desired that his 
 rising passion should cool during the intervening 
 months ; and perceived with displeasure that he 
 ceased to manifest his first impatience for the 
 time to arrive when he might rejoin them. He 
 wrote to tell her, that he designed to solace him- 
 self by accompanying the Annesly Marchmonts in 
 a tour in the south of France, previously to enter- 
 ing Italy for the winter. He accordingly remained 
 with them until they reached Florence in the 
 autumn, where he soon received an angry and 
 urgent letter from his mother, who desired him 
 to reach the imperial city on the same day that
 
 CONSTANCY. 27 
 
 she expected to enter it. She made also many 
 general comments on the ingratitude and impru- 
 dence of youth, and on the folly of her son in 
 particular ; but as she brought no definite accusa- 
 tions against him, he passed over her displeasure 
 in silence, and proposed to appease it by setting out 
 for Rome without any delay, where he arrived on 
 the very day that the courier attending on Lady 
 Sylvester's party, and paid by Mr. Ratcliffe, had 
 established them in apartments in the palazzo — , in 
 the vicinity of the Pincean Hill. 
 
 c 2
 
 28 CONSTANCY. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 His bosom mild, the favouring muse 
 Had stored with all her ample views. 
 Parent of fairest deeds, and purposes sublime. 
 
 WARTON. 
 
 It was with surprise and pleasure that Mr. 
 RatcHffe, a few days after he parted from his 
 daughter, received a visit from his old friend Mr. 
 Wilmot, whom he had not now seen for several 
 years. They had, for a time, kept up a regular 
 correspondence, but even this had been gradually 
 allowed to fall to the ground, for business accumu- 
 lated with each of them. The retired minister of 
 the church found his time not less occupied by 
 the cares of his parish than was that of his more 
 enterprising friend by his mercantile undertakings ; 
 and they found it so little possible to convey to 
 each other any clear comprehension of the very 
 different interests by which they were mutually 
 engrossed, that, as their letters grew to contain 
 little else than assurances of a friendship of which 
 neither had ever doubted the strength or the sin- 
 cerity, they at length ceased altogether, unless any 
 unusual event occurred which they felt desirous to 
 communicate.
 
 CONSTANCY. 29 
 
 This had been the case with Mr. Ratcliffe till 
 his daughter had quitted England, when, oppressed 
 by a sense of loneliness, his thoughts had turned 
 to the one true friend whom he knew he possessed, 
 and to the tender proofs of regard which he had 
 received from him and from his wife ; and he sat 
 down and wrote a letter to Wilmot, to which his 
 arrival brought a most welcome answer. Not, 
 indeed, that it was occasioned by it ; affairs that 
 came to an unexpected crisis summoned him 
 to town ; breaking in as it did upon the even 
 tenor of his uneventful hfe, this occurrence was 
 rather productive of pleasure than of annoyance. 
 The age which his only child had attained made 
 it necessary to select a profession for him, as the 
 smallness of his father's means left him chiefly 
 dependent on his own exertion ; and Mr. Wilmot 
 thought that in personal interview's with some 
 noble and wealthy friends of former days, with 
 whom familiar intercourse had long since ceased, 
 he might, without any sacrifice of dignity, interest 
 them in the fortunes of his son. He found him- 
 self not altogether disappointed in these hopes. 
 By some of his friends he was remembered — by 
 some forgotten ; many gracious speeches were lis- 
 tened to, and some kind assurances believed. 
 
 It was chiefly to Mr. Ratcliffe that he looked for 
 assistance and advice. The long cessation of in- 
 tercourse between them seemed only to heighten 
 their satisfaction in meeting again, and they passed 
 every evening together of the short period which
 
 30 CONSTANCY. 
 
 Mr. Wilmot meant to spend in London. Their 
 conversation naturally turned to the past in which 
 they had been mutually interested, rather than 
 to the present in which they had little connexion 
 with each other; but they also dwelt upon the 
 future, for they both had children. Mr. Wilmot's 
 only son was not less precious to his heart than 
 was the merchant's orphan daughter to that of her 
 father. Mr. Ratcliffe eagerly inquired into the 
 character, the prospects, and the wishes of Julian 
 "Wilmot ; sincerely desiring to serve the father 
 through the son, and to prove the liveliness of that 
 gratitude which had never expired, and which the 
 sight of his friend fanned into a brighter flame. 
 
 " My son," replied Mr. Wilmot to Mr. Ratcliffe's 
 earnest inquiries, "is now nineteen. From his 
 childhood I had entertained a not unnatural wish 
 to educate him to my own profession, the exercise 
 of which I prefer to that of any other more likely 
 to lead to emolument and worldly distinctions ; for, 
 highly as I have been always inclined to rate 
 Julian's abilities, so entirely are we destitute of any 
 advantages of interest or connexion, that I believe 
 I may honestly affirm that ambition can have little 
 to do with the choice of this career for him. In- 
 deed, the motives which chiefly directed my choice, 
 were founded on my close and anxious study of 
 my child's peculiar disposition. The gentleness 
 and lively sensibility which are alike predominant 
 in him, joined to a reserve and timidity existing to 
 a painful degree when he is thi'own among stran-
 
 CONSTANCY. 31 
 
 gers, but which give place to the most ingenuous 
 candour and the utmost affectionate willingness to 
 confide every thought and feeling when with those 
 he loves, make me think him little suited to wrestle 
 with the world where he would find himself, 
 
 " Checked by the scoff of pride and envy's frown. 
 And poverty's unconquerable bar." 
 
 How often has the character drawn by the poet 
 whom I quote, reminded his mother and me most 
 forcibly of our child ! 
 
 " I also narrowly observed him in order to de- 
 tect from whence sprung the excessive ardour with 
 which he pursued the different studies to which I 
 directed him, having myself been his sole pre- 
 ceptor. I decided that it arose more from the 
 enthusiasm of his nature, and the harmony that 
 existed between his spirit and those master-minds 
 whose imperishable works formed his objects of 
 study, than from the yearnings of emulous ambi- 
 tion. In all these pursuits it was rather the pre- 
 sent enjoyment than the future hope, that incited 
 his indefatigable efforts. I have now discovered 
 that an ardent thirst of fame is in his heart, but 
 seeks its gratification by other means. 
 
 " From his very childhood, my son has displayed 
 a most remarkable passion, I may say genius, for 
 painting. The delight he took in nature, and the 
 taithfulness of the attempts he made to portray 
 her features, excited the observation of every one 
 around us; and such as could assist him in the culti-
 
 32 CONSTANCY. 
 
 vation of this talent, most kindly did so. Before 
 long this passion, for in him it is nothing less, be- 
 gan to supersede all other studies. The poets and 
 historians which 1 placed in his hands, soon bore 
 on every blank leaf and margin, the illustration of 
 each lively image or affecting scene that struck his 
 fancy ; and I would often reprove what neverthe- 
 less excited my admiration. Every page of the 
 Iliad in his possession would corroborate what I 
 am saying. There we have Achilles in the council 
 of heroes, restrained from striking Agamemnon by 
 the interference of Minerva, who places her hand 
 in the hair of the impetuous warrior and draws 
 him back. We see him again weeping bitterly on 
 the sea-shore, with his beautiful mother rising from 
 the waves to console her son. Often on his mo- 
 ther's birthday will he present her with portfolios 
 enriched with the most exquisitely graceful de- 
 signs, which are however but the fruits of his 
 idle hours. 
 
 " Among these, his subjects are chiefly selected 
 from Shakspeare, whom he knows to be equally 
 their favourite. One of those, at this moment 
 present to my mind, is a design for a frontispiece 
 to the ' Two Gentlemen of Verona,' which is com- 
 posed of a number of small sketches, divided from 
 each other by elegant wreaths of flowers and or- 
 namental scrolls, and w^hich united present an 
 epitome of the whole play. The first is the em- 
 barkation of Valentine ; the second is the leave- 
 taking of Julia and Proteus ; the two lower ones
 
 CONSTANCY. 33 
 
 are Silvia returning to Valentine the verses she 
 had engaged him to write, and Silvia in the balcony 
 reproaching Proteus, who is attended by the love- 
 sick Julia; while the centre represents the final 
 scene in the wood, where Valentine proffers the 
 hand of Silvia to his friend, whose attention is dis- 
 tracted by the fainting Julia at his side. 
 
 " Forgive me for dwelling thus on minute de- 
 tails which to you can possess little interest. That 
 such manifestations of genius were viewed with 
 fond partiality by his parents, you will easily believe ; 
 and he has found his friends equally disposed to 
 admire. Lord Camville, who resides near us and 
 is a man of much taste and knowledge, has, by 
 opening to him his extensive gallery, afforded him 
 an unhoped-for advantage in the pursuit of the study 
 of his art. 
 
 " Perhaps it will scarcely surprise you to hear 
 that when about a year back I offered to send 
 him to the university, he declined to avail himself 
 of my proposal, declaring that the attendant ex- 
 pense would be very ill-advised, as he never intended 
 to practise any profession that called for such an 
 education ; that he felt that his sole vocation was 
 that of a painter, and on no other could he will- 
 ingly enter. This avowal at first certainly caused 
 me some pain ; but Julian, not less firm than he is 
 gentle, finally obtained my consent to make his 
 own decision. 1 expected that his mother would 
 have been even more averse than myself to allow 
 a resolution to be carried into effect which, in the 
 
 c 3
 
 34 CONSTANCY. 
 
 eyes of the many, would we knew be considered to 
 place our son below the station which I had in- 
 tended him to hold. But here I found her disposed 
 to adopt Julian's opinions, and to abide by his 
 wishes. He boldly asserted that he held it to be 
 no degradation to make those talents which are 
 especial and unattainable gifts of Heaven, the means 
 of procuring an honest competence. 'And in 
 what profession,' he asked, ' can a subsistence be 
 earned more honourably than in that which I have 
 chosen ? Is it not free from the many temptations 
 to dishonesty which beset those considered to hold 
 a higher rank ? The lawyer may be tempted, for 
 the sake of gain, to uphold by specious reasoning 
 the wrong against the right, and to foster the ma- 
 lignance of human passions. The soldier may be 
 paid to draw his sword in a cause which his heart 
 abhors ; and some will intrude even into the 
 Church's holy sanctuary, who seek only the loaves 
 and the fishes. I must stand or fall by my own 
 merits, protected and sought only by those who 
 approve me.' 
 
 " If such be his determination, it is time that 
 he put it into execution ; and I see plainly that 
 he passionately desires to fly to the land of pain- 
 ters, where they have attained most excellence, 
 earned most fame, been best loved, and most 
 esteemed. Julian, who had not displayed any 
 symptoms of ambition before, looks to his art with 
 an ardent desire for distinction." 
 
 " And let him earn it !" exclaimed Mr. Rat-
 
 CONSTANCY. 35 
 
 cMe, who had heard with interest his friend's nar- 
 rative. " Let us assist him to earn it," and 
 before their conversation came to a close, he pro- 
 posed with equal generosity and delicacy that Mr. 
 Wilmot should immediately summon his son to 
 join him in London, bringing with him such spe- 
 cimens of his powers as were yet in being, which 
 he would undertake to submit to competent judges. 
 Mr. Ratcliffe went on to propose, that according 
 to their advice his present routine should be 
 marked out, and that if a course of study in Italy 
 were most desirable, it should be afforded him at 
 his expense. 
 
 With this liberal proposal, after some scruples 
 of delicacy, and with the expression of the warmest 
 gratitude, Mr. Wilmot was induced to reply ; and 
 accordingly wrote to his son to inform him of it. 
 JuHan obeyed with alacrity injunctions that pro- 
 mised so well for his future career ; it had long- 
 been his eager desire to meet with an opening such 
 as might authorize him to entertain any rational 
 hopes of final success. The ardour of his feelings 
 on this point vanquished the repugnance which he 
 had to receive benefits in general, and his mother 
 reminded him that the friendship which existed 
 between his father and the wealthy merchant had 
 hitherto been supported by mutual services, and 
 that if the balance of gratitude was now on their 
 side, his well-founded anticipations of success might 
 enable him ere long to make that return to his 
 generous patron which was probably the one that 
 would be most really acceptable to him.
 
 36 CONSTANCY. 
 
 The reception which Julian met with from Mr. 
 Ratcliife, the kindness and almost parental interest 
 which he showed him, reassured him at once and 
 excited in his affectionate nature the warmest feel- 
 ings of gratitude; and the circumstance of his 
 father being there to support him, prevented his 
 delicacy and his self-respect from receiving, or 
 fancying that they received any wound. 
 
 Mr. Ratcliffe was indeed thoughtfully consi- 
 derate on every subject, however trifling, that could 
 affect the interest or the feelings of his young pro- 
 tege. He was singularly pleased with his whole 
 demeanour, with his handsome and intelligent 
 countenance, his unstudied eloquence springing 
 from the heart, his ingenuousness and simplicity, 
 and the earnestness and yet manly dignity with 
 which he acknowledged a sense of obligation to 
 his favours. He sought, not less for his own 
 satisfaction than for that of the young artist and 
 his father, the opinions of all those whom he con- 
 sidered most competent to advise him before the 
 im.portant decision was finally made ; and he found 
 himself fully corroborated in the opinion he had 
 formed, that the passionate desire of the youthful 
 painter evinced to make the exercise of his fa- 
 vourite art the chief occupation of his life was not 
 founded on any false estimation of his latent 
 powers, but was the voice of genius that would 
 be heard, and an indication of the existence of 
 those powers which are the gift of heaven, not the 
 acquisition of the most indefatigable of the sons 
 of men.
 
 CONSTANCY. 37 
 
 After Julian had spent a few weeks beneath his 
 roof, and afforded him the fullest satisfaction, both 
 as the son of his friend and with regard to a hope 
 of future success, Mr. Ratcliffe most liberally pro- 
 vided him with the means of spending the follow- 
 ing winter in Italy, and in order to forward his 
 interests in every way in his power, he gave him 
 letters to his daughter in which he strongly re- 
 commended him to Lord Sylvester, whose gene- 
 rous disposition and cultivated taste would, he 
 thought, render •him able and willing to be of 
 essential service to the young painter, as inexpe- 
 rienced in the world as he was at present in his art. 
 
 Julian returned with his father to his home to 
 bid his mother farewell, and with a truly grateful 
 heart, took leave of his patron.
 
 CONSTANCY. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Le nom seul de Rome est magique pour le voyageur 
 qui arrive dans son enceinte ! Etre a Rome parait une sorte 
 d'honneur, un des nobles evenemens, un des futurs et 
 grands souvenirs de notre vie. 
 
 Si Rome est le premier but du voyageur en Italie, St. 
 Pierre est la premiere merveille qu'il recherche, et que ses 
 yeux contemplent. 
 
 " We are in Rome !" exclaimed Mercedes. 
 " What joy ! Dear Lady Sylvester, do not you 
 feel happy, happier than you ever felt before? 
 Do not you say with the poet — 
 
 " I am in Rome ! I cry 
 Whence this excess of joy ? What has befall'n me ? 
 And from within a thrilling voice replies : 
 Thou art in Rome ! A thousand busy thoughts 
 Rush on my mind ! A thousand images ; 
 And I spring up, as girt to run a race." 
 
 Lord Sylvester smiled at her ecstasy — he was 
 turning over the leaves of a book he had been 
 reading, as if in search of some particular passage, 
 and when he found it, he pointed out the page to 
 Mercedes, and bid her read it : — 
 
 " Chiunque abbia alquanto gustato le delizie 
 dell' antica erudizione mi fara testimonianza quai
 
 CONSTANCY. 39 
 
 palpiti sente il cuore, allorch^ scendendo 1' Appen- 
 nino la via declina alia celebrata citta. Le pupille 
 sono intente a scoprire la sommita dei sette colli ; 
 il petto brama lanciarsi tra preziosi raonumeiiti ; 
 ogni pietra di antico edifizio per la via e materia 
 di dotte congiutture e d' immagini deliziose."* 
 
 " How true !" said Mercedes, as she ended ; 
 " but still, though this passage describes my feel- 
 ings so exactly, the cause that it assigns for them 
 is more peculiarly felt by you. Perhaps my chief 
 associations and desires are rather attached neither 
 to ancient nor yet to modern Italy, but to Italy of 
 the middle ages. It is the Italy of the poets and 
 the painters that I love with an almost personal 
 affection. The Italy of Raphael and of Michael 
 Angelo ; and now that I know them, many other 
 names are become dear to me that never reached 
 my ears before I came here ; those, for instance, of 
 Masaccio, of Cimabue, of Pinturiccio, of Perugino, of 
 Garofolo, and others too many to enumerate ; while 
 the very air of Italy inspires me with more vivid 
 reminiscences of Dante, of Petrarca, of Ariosto, and 
 I long to see where Tasso died, and read his name 
 on his humble grave-stone with deeper feelings 
 of tenderness and veneration than, I think, the 
 stately monument of later days that honours Santa 
 Croce can awake." 
 
 "Well," replied Lord Sylvester, "you must 
 banish for a while these charming reveries, but 
 only in order to realize them. Are you calm 
 * Verri.
 
 40 CONSTANCY. 
 
 enough to fix on any single object that you desire 
 to see ?" 
 
 " Oh yes !" exclaimed Mercedes eagerly ; then 
 pausing, she more thoughtfully continued : " St. 
 Peter's, the Coliseum, that grand monument of 
 Rome itself !" 
 
 " A thousand images" did indeed rush into her 
 mind, and she was lost among them. 
 
 " Let us go to St. Peter's," said Lady Sylvester. 
 
 Arundel, who was with them, did not offer to 
 accompany them ; but after a short silence, he said 
 with an air which was not quite so unembarrassed 
 as it was designed to be : 
 
 " I will not undertake to be your cicerone, 
 mother. Sylvester, who has been here before 
 will do all that better ; much more to your satis- 
 faction and to Miss Racliffe's. You see how my 
 modesty and anxiety for your true interests lead 
 me to make a great sacrifice. I, however, must 
 also be employed in your service, though in a 
 different way. I will get you a carriage and horses 
 if you please ; I am admirably qualified to select 
 them ; and before we meet at dinner, I will be 
 en etat to tell you every one who is in Rome ; 
 every thing that is hkely to happen during the 
 ensuing week ; your names shall be properly in- 
 scribed in Monaldini's book, and to-morrow^ every 
 acquaintance that you have here shall be made aware 
 of the momentous fact of your arrival." 
 
 Mercedes was far too much absorbed in the idea 
 that a few short hours would place her within St.
 
 CONSTANCY. 41 
 
 Peter's to listen to the whole of Arundel's speech ; 
 she was rather astonished that he should willingly 
 defer so great a pleasure, but too much occupied 
 in the anticipation of it, to perceive all the an- 
 noyance which his mother felt, or to share greatly 
 in it herself. 
 
 Mercedes threw herself back in the carriage 
 determined to reserve all her emotions that day 
 for St. Peter's. Her companions seemed by their 
 mere presence to disturb her; she resolutely 
 maintained silence, and refused to allow her at- 
 tention to be attracted by any of the new and 
 passing objects around her. 
 
 As soon as they found themselves on the Bridge 
 of St. Angelo, she leaned forward at Lord Syl- 
 vester's instigation, to catch perhaps the most 
 excellent view of the majestic dome that is to be 
 had within the city. She gazed silently on the 
 gracefully swelling outhne, relieved by the deep and 
 cloudless blue sky, and felt her expectations rising 
 even to a painful degree. The moment that they 
 entered the Piazza, she started up in the carriage, 
 eager to behold the first revealed view of the 
 facade; but as soon as she had perceived it, she 
 turned to Lord Sylvester with a blank look of 
 disappointment. 
 
 " Ah !" she exclaimed, " where is the dome 
 that looked so sublime a few minutes ago ? Now 
 we have entirely lost sight of it. That ugly pile," 
 she said, pointing to the Vatican, " looks as if it 
 had overbearingly crushed it 1"
 
 42 CONSTANCY. 
 
 "True," replied Lord Sylvester; "your dissa- 
 tisfaction is very just. It cannot be denied that, 
 ^ le premier temple de VEurope se trouve avoir 
 le caractere trivial d'un hdtiment d' habitation.'' 
 But look now on this beautiful colonnade; these 
 fountains that play so gracefully ; that obelisk 
 that aspires to heaven ! You must acknowledge 
 that it is, as has been justly remarked, ' the finest 
 inclosure to the Piazza that could be imagined, 
 and also a most fortunate screen to the ignoble 
 objects that surround it. How many noble build- 
 ings stand in need of such a screen ! See how 
 vast is the area inclosed by these encircling arms ! 
 and how admirable the proportions of the colon- 
 nade itself!" 
 
 Lady Sylvester and Mercedes participated in his 
 just admiration ; but the latter was too anxious to 
 behold the interior to bestow her full attention on 
 that which was without She sprang from the 
 carriage, and ran up the broad stone steps ; she was 
 struck with the grandeur of the vestibule which 
 she now entered, and as Lord Sylvester raised the 
 heavy curtain that impeded her entrance, she passed 
 beneath it, and stood within the august temple. 
 
 *' How proud a fabric to devotion given !" 
 
 When she thus first entered St. Peter's, she 
 was overwhelmed with a sense of its surpassing 
 grandeur ; oppressed by, and lost in a vague per- 
 ception of its vastness. How ardent a wish she 
 felt to be there alone, at least undisturbed and un-
 
 CONSTANCY. 43 
 
 restrained by the presence of companions, in order 
 to contemplate it in silence. She felt a desire to 
 abide there to gaze on its awful majesty from sun- 
 rise to sunset, to watch every changing effect, 
 from the brightening of day to the shadows of even- 
 ing and the gloom of night ! She regarded it as 
 the most sublime temple that man could hope to 
 frame ; and she could have wept to think that we 
 have been forced to turn away from the ancient 
 Church, its mistress, because, blind and deaf, cor- 
 rupted and bigoted, she refused to " wash and be 
 clean," when the accumulated errors of ages were 
 plainly proved, and held up before her eyes. 
 
 Lord Sylvester left her for a time to herself, 
 but he could not long deny himself the pleasure of 
 inquiring into her sentiments, and the emotions 
 excited by the glorious spectacle before her. It 
 was not, however, possible for her to express, 
 scarcely to define her feelings so immediately. 
 They seemed like a weight on her mind ; she felt 
 crushed and yet exalted by the immensity of what 
 she beheld. She afterwards remarked how truly 
 these words of a well-known author described what 
 her own sensations had been on her first visit to 
 St. Peters : — " The cupola is glorious, viewed in 
 its design, its altitude, and its decoration ; it en- 
 chants the eye, it satisfies the taste, it expands the 
 soul ! The very air seems to eat up all that is harsh 
 or colossal, and to leave us nothing but the sub- 
 lime to feast on — a sublime peculiar as the genius 
 of the immortal architect, and comprehensible only 
 on the spot."
 
 44 CONSTANCY. 
 
 Lady Sylvester, however, wearied of the indul- 
 gence of these almost speechless raptures, pro- 
 posed to take a regular survey of the church, and 
 they then remarked that the side aisles appeared 
 very insignificant compared with the middle one ; 
 so that, in fact, they almost looked on them as 
 passages to the different chapels. 
 
 " Show me the tomb of the last of the Stuarts," 
 said Mercedes, as their conductor led them on, and 
 they stopped before a monument hewn from the 
 purest, the most colourless marble. A weeping 
 angel guarded the tomb on either side ; they hung 
 their graceful heads, hopelessly dejected. Were 
 these the guardian angels who had been commis- 
 sioned to watch over the fortunes of that princely 
 family as long as a single scion of its race remained 
 on earth ? If so, how many hours of anguish had 
 they witnessed; of woes that they might not 
 relieve, and tears that they were not commissioned 
 to dry ! Had they hovered over the repentant 
 Mary in her lonely prison, and rejoiced over 
 every remorseful sigh that she heaved? Had 
 they seen her lovely head upon the block, and 
 borne her released soul on their wings to hea- 
 ven? Had they conducted the children of the 
 saintly Charles to his bosom for the last time ? 
 And had they hidden their faces in shame and 
 sorrow at the guilt of succeeding generations, or 
 with downcast eyes and burning blushes of indig- 
 nation on their brow, watched, without attempting 
 to avert, the avenging bolt of heaven ? And now, 
 when justice was satisfied, were they there to shed
 
 CONSTANCY. 45 
 
 tears of pity, unmixed with any sterner feeling ? 
 Their extinguished torches, and those closed doors 
 told that hope was expelled. No mighty efforts 
 could bring back past grandeur ; there was no 
 strong arm to be raised for victory ; — for the Stuarts' 
 time was at an end ! 
 
 Such were the thoughts awakened in Mercedes' 
 mind as she gazed on this most affecting tribute 
 to a fallen race. But she did not give them utter- 
 ance; tears gathered slowly in her eyes, and 
 at last she turned mournfully away, for her com- 
 panions were in haste to proceed. They soon 
 afterwards crossed the church to view that which, 
 as a monument, is perhaps Canova's capo d'opera, 
 the Rezzonico tomb. The superb representation 
 of the most superb animal of the creation ; the 
 feiTent piety expressed in the countenance of the 
 kneeling pontiff, and denoted by the unaffected 
 humility of his posture ; the touching grace of the 
 recumbent angel; all excite the warmest admira- 
 tion. The sublime fails only where it should come 
 forth in greatest majesty — in the figure of trium- 
 phant religion. 
 
 Mercedes w^as charmed beyond expression by 
 the languid grace and pathetic loveliness of the 
 reclining figure of the Angel of Death. As they 
 walked away, she said to Lord Sylvester : 
 
 " That figure reminds me so strongly of a little 
 German fable that I once read, and which perhaps 
 Canova had read also. It represents the Angel of 
 Death in company with all the ministering spirits
 
 46 CONSTANCY. 
 
 who are supposed to go to and fro upon the earth. 
 He is lamenting that the melancholy office which 
 is intrusted to him, renders him an ohject of hatred 
 instead of love, among men ; while, nevertheless, 
 he is the instrument of the greatest blessing they 
 receive. I'hink of the horrible and ghastly repre- 
 sentation of him as the King of Terrors, that 
 haunts the imagination of the vulgar, and of this 
 lovely and, I hope, far more true personification of 
 him that we have just seen. Is it not the same 
 thought embodied ?" 
 
 They did not in one visit exhaust nor even 
 glance over the innumerable treasures of St. Peter's, 
 nor do I intend to enumerate them. I would only 
 wish, in these pages, to mention some of those 
 matchless works that Rome contains, inconceivable 
 to all who have not viewed them, and even then 
 not to be conceived aright in the true amount of 
 their grandeur and beauty by any who are ungifted 
 with " that secret harmonious spirit," that is neces- 
 sary to form an alliance between " the reader of a 
 book, the spectator of a statue," and him who pro- 
 duced it. This I do, not with the presumptuous 
 idea that I can pay a tribute w^orthy of them, but 
 with the hope that by describing the sensations 
 w^hich they excited in the persons to w^hom this 
 tale relates, I may make known their characters, 
 their tastes, feelings, and sentiments, in a way that 
 shall invest their future fortunes with some interest 
 in the eyes of my readers, if any such there shall be. 
 
 On the present subject, suffice it now to say,
 
 CONSTANCY. 47 
 
 that our party quitted it with a ready concurrence 
 in the sentiment of the traveller, who says that 
 one of the chief causes of regret in departing from 
 Rome, arises from the thought of never again 
 entering St. Peter's. 
 
 On their return home, Lady Sylvester went in 
 search of her son. She found him alone stretched 
 on a sofa, and closing the door behind her, she 
 advanced with a step and a look that seemed to 
 alarm him, for he started up as she drew near. 
 Addressing him in a voice of suppressed anger, 
 she said : 
 
 " Do not suppose that I am not perfectly aware 
 of the reason why you would not accompany us 
 to-day. You were seeking apartments for the 
 Annesly Marchmonts." 
 
 " Well, dear mother," said Arundel, attempting 
 to laugh away her displeasure, " you would not 
 have me backward in serving a fiiend ?" 
 
 Without regarding his idle words. Lady Syl- 
 vester continued, with a fierceness very unlike the 
 soft, becoming graciousness of manner for which 
 she was remarkable in those more guarded hours, 
 when " caution watched beside the lips of fraud :" 
 " Have you dared to resolve to frustrate my plans ?" 
 
 " Nothing can be farther from my intention," 
 replied Arundel, with a coolness that was meant to 
 make his mother feel that her violence was ridicu- 
 lous. She looked at him with doubt and incre- 
 duUty ; after a moment's silence, she added : 
 
 " See that you abide by those words," and 
 walked out of the room.
 
 48 CONSTANCY. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The fair fulfilment of his poesy. 
 
 When his young heart first yearned for sympathy. 
 
 COLERIDGE. 
 
 Sweetness, truth and every grace, 
 That time and use are wont to teach 
 The eye may in a moment reach. 
 And read distinctly on her face. 
 
 WALLER. 
 
 " Dear Lady Sylvester," said Mercedes, as she 
 finished reading to her the letter from her father 
 which the painter, Wilmot, had left at her door ; 
 " we must not neglect this protege of my father's. 
 What can we do for him? Let me send him 
 a card for your Friday evenings." 
 
 " By all means, my love, if you wish it." 
 
 " And when we go out to-day, why should we 
 not visit his studio .?" 
 
 " Just as you please, my dear ; but Sylvester 
 cannot come with us to-day," replied Lady Syl- 
 vester. 
 
 Nevertheless, Mercedes, who had been greatly 
 touched by her father's letter, in which he re- 
 minded her of all that this young man's mother 
 had done for them, and the strict friendship that 
 had so long existed between him and his father.
 
 CONSTANCY. 49 
 
 did not neglect to direct the servant to go to the 
 
 Palazzetto , in which Wilmot had taken up 
 
 his abode. On inquiring whether an English 
 painter resided there, and in what part of the 
 spacious building, the porter assured them, with an 
 expressive shrug, that it was "in cielo" and it 
 would cost them much pains to attain to it. Mer- 
 cedes however was not easily to be discouraged 
 when her heart was set on any object, and spring- 
 ing lightly from the carriage, she ran up the long 
 flights of stone stairs with a rapidity which left Lady 
 Sylvester far behind. At length she appeared to 
 have reached the very top, and stopping at a door 
 she paused, and looking round perceived that she 
 had outstripped the breathless lacche who toiled 
 after her in vain. Hearing his step behind her, 
 she raised her hand and knocked at the door for 
 admission. It was almost instantly unclosed, and 
 it was the painter himself that opened it. She 
 drew back abashed, for she saw him start appa- 
 rently with surprise, and asked, not without blushes 
 mantling on her cheek, if Mr. Wilmot was there. 
 *' I am he," replied the young artist. 
 " And I," said Mercedes, " am Miss Ratcliffe." 
 Scarcely was this little explanation completed 
 when Lady Sylvester reached them, and they en- 
 tered together into the painter's studio. On the 
 walls around were fastened innumerable sketches 
 and designs : Roman women, with their pale, 
 proud faces ; fierce-looking men, that might have 
 been heroes, and were only brigands ; merry, play- 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 CONSTANCY. 
 
 ful children with the warm complexions of the 
 south, and laughing eyes that boded uncontrol- 
 lable mischief. There seemed to Mercedes to be 
 in every thing that came from the young painter's 
 hand a deep feeling and sentiment, that imparted 
 interest to the merest sketch, and his countenance 
 beamed with satisfaction as he saw how his mean- 
 ing was always understood and appreciated by her. 
 At last, they approached the easel from which 
 he had risen. He would have removed the paint- 
 ing which was upon it, saying : 
 
 " It is only a trifling thought that just occurred to 
 me, and which I may execute in some day to come." 
 
 " Oh, leave it !" exclaimed Mercedes ; " perhaps 
 if we see it now, we may offer some valuable sug- 
 gestion," and she drew near with a smile. 
 
 "It is from the opening of the first book of 
 Dante," said Julian in explanation. " Do you re- 
 member the supplication of Beatrice to Virgil to 
 go to the assistance of her lover? After all she 
 has said, as she departs, she feels as if she had not 
 yet been earnest enough, and she turns back her 
 head to cast on him one more look of the utmost 
 entreaty. The shadowy form of Virgil," he con- 
 tinued, " is not meant to be the chief object of 
 interest ; but this idea of Beatrice is quite inade- 
 quate to tell my conception of her, both as to 
 beauty and expression ;" and taking up his pencil 
 as he spoke, he effaced in a moment a face which, 
 for pathos and loveliness, had spoken to the heart 
 of Mercedes. 
 
 " Oh !" she exclaimed, in a voice of indignant
 
 CONSTANCY. 5 1 
 
 regret, " what have you done ? Rather than 
 destroy what had so much beauty, you might have 
 given it to those who would have valued it ;" and 
 she looked up reproachfully, but Julian only smiled, 
 and laid down the brush with w^hich he had perpe- 
 trated the offence. 
 
 The ladies now prepared to depart, but not 
 without Mercedes reminding Lady Sylvester of 
 the invitation which she had asked for Wilmot. 
 The young painter bowed gratefully. He had, 
 indeed, on his arrival in Rome formed a plan of 
 the most entire seclusion and strictest devotion to 
 his studies; but now, he no sooner heard these 
 words from Lady Sylvester's lips, than he looked 
 forward to the day on which he might avail him- 
 self of the privilege they conferred, with the utmost 
 eagerness. 
 
 Though they desired to cause him no farther in- 
 terruption, he attended them to their carriage, and 
 remounted the stairs slowly and pensively. As he 
 re-entered his now solitary chamber, it seemed to 
 him as if the light of heaven had suddenly been 
 excluded from it, and all was immersed in profound 
 gloom. He approached his easel thoughtfully, and 
 seating himself at it, took up the sketch of Beatrice; 
 he continued to work apparently entii'ely engrossed 
 in his labour. He did not move till the shades of 
 evening closed around him ; and then rising slowly, 
 and moving to a distance, surveying his work as 
 he retreated, he exclaimed with a sigh of dissatis- 
 faction : 
 
 D 2 
 
 
 0^
 
 52 CONSTANCY. 
 
 " Oh ! how unworthy a representation of so 
 much beauty !" 
 
 Repeatedly in the course of the evening would 
 he start up, and throwing aside the book which 
 he was endeavouring to read, he would return to 
 gaze on his painting, surveying it in every possible 
 light, now closely scrutinizing it, and then regarding 
 it from a distance, and always quitting it with an 
 air of discontent. Finally, he carried it with him 
 to his chamber, and hung it on the wall where it 
 could not fail to be the first thing to greet his eye 
 in the morning, and then retired to rest.
 
 CONSTANCY. 53 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 In quella parte dov' Amor mi sprona ! — 
 Sol una donna veggio, e '1 suo bel viso ! 
 
 PETRARCA. 
 
 Julian looked forward to the day on which he 
 was to see Mercedes again with anxiety ; but as 
 nearly a week must elapse before it could arrive, he 
 was forced, however unwillingly, to possess his 
 mind with patience. Neglecting his usual studies, 
 he wandered to every place where he thought he 
 was likely to see her, but without success ; and 
 returned daily more dejected, and dissatisfied with 
 himself for the folly of which he was guilty. 
 
 Mercedes, in the meantime, had not forgotten 
 him. So much had she been dehghted by the 
 productions of his genius, that, on her return 
 home, she had mentioned them in the most en- 
 thusiastic terms of praise to Lord Sylvester, hop- 
 ing to do an important service to the young painter 
 by inducing him to visit him himself; for she 
 knew that this nobleman's love of the fine arts in- 
 clined him to be a liberal patron ; and his highly 
 cultivated taste qualified him to be a judicious 
 encourager of talent wherever he discovered it. 
 
 In compliance with the earnest requests of 
 Mercedes, Lord Sylvester accordingly called one
 
 54 CONSTANCY. 
 
 morning on Wilmot, who on his return, for he 
 was now usually absent, found his card. The first 
 thought that occurred to him was an apprehension 
 that Lord Sylvester might perhaps have been ac- 
 companied by his mother and Mercedes ; and he 
 flew down stairs to ascertain from the porter 
 whether there was truth in this idea. The man 
 however assured him that no one had inquired for 
 him that day (for Julian was at present unknown 
 and unsought) except the Milor Inglese whose 
 card he had delivered. Relieved from his fears, 
 and yet rather disappointed on finding them 
 groundless, he slowly retraced his steps. 
 
 Nor was this the only anxiety awakened by Lord 
 Sylvester's visit. Julian speedily came to a deci- 
 sion in his own mind, that the affection of the 
 son was the link that united Lady Sylvester and 
 Mercedes. Was it possible that any one could 
 dwell with her, be constantly beside her, exposed to 
 the fascination of her beauty, and still more power- 
 ful influence of her voice and manner, growing 
 every day better acquainted with the charms of 
 " the soul that looked from such a face," and remain 
 indifferent ? Could he hope or believe that to be 
 possible ? From that day he set down Lord 
 Sylvester as the favoured, probably the accepted 
 lover of Miss Ratcliffe ; for if she did not favour 
 him, would he have been there ? 
 
 This conclusion, in spite of self-reproof, did not 
 dispose his mind fa^^ourably towards Lord Sylvester. 
 
 Lord Sylvester, however, little aware of the dis-
 
 CONSTANCY. 55 
 
 turbance he had occasioned the object of his in- 
 tended kindness returned again the following day, 
 and met Wilmot at the door of his apartment about 
 to quit it, who could do no less than offer to return 
 with him. Lord Sylvester had a real desire to serve 
 him in order to oblige Mr. Ratcliffe whose protege 
 he understood him to be, and also feeling pleased 
 and interested by the fine intellectual countenance 
 of the youthful painter, readily accepted his offer. 
 
 Julian, for his part, would gladly have heard 
 it refused ; he was as yet little habituated to 
 the display of his works with a hope of profit ; 
 and this alone threw a kind of proud humility 
 into his manner, while an additional embarrass- 
 ment was imparted to it by the thoughts which 
 he had allowed to fill his mind. Such, how- 
 ever, was the refinement of good breeding, the 
 delicacy of perception, and the liberality of senti- 
 ment that always pervaded every word and action 
 of Lord Sylvester, however trifling, that it was im- 
 possible that Julian should remain insensible to 
 the charm of his manner. He found himself ere 
 long engaged with him in a conversation full of 
 interest ; and when they parted, it was not without 
 mutual expressions of interest and gratitude. 
 
 The following evening Julian went to Lady 
 Sylvester's soiree. Impatience led him there at 
 an early hour ; yet he found the room crowded 
 already with guests of all nations. Lady Syl- 
 vester was very much pronee by the fashionable 
 world in Rome at that time. 
 
 Few of the annual festivities of the brief period
 
 5 6 CONSTANCY. 
 
 there allotted to amusement had commenced ; hers 
 was one of the few salons yet open, and consequently 
 all idlers eagerly flocked to it to see and to be seen, to 
 reconnoitre and to speculate on the future prospects 
 of the season. The assemblage there that night 
 might have afforded ample scope for observation and 
 amusement to any one who came with a less de- 
 finite object than Juhan. It was not unhonoured 
 by the presence of a cardinal, nor ungraced by that 
 of a fair ambassadress ; it was attended by the usual 
 sprinkling of the inferior satellites of church and 
 state, such as young charges d'affaires to whose 
 empty brains no one would have been sufficiently 
 imprudent to commit any charge, save that of 
 public affairs ; private secretaries of a rusty, mys- 
 terious, and inky appearance ; and Monsignori. 
 Here was one looking so handsome, so interesting, 
 so dignified, and so worthy to employ the pencil 
 of a Titian to portray the mild benevolence of his 
 full dark eye, the bland sweetness of his smile, the 
 noble expanse of forehead, and the raven curls 
 that fell gracefully around it ; how suitable appears 
 his unpretending dress of black, with the floating 
 length of silk that falls from his shoulders almost 
 to his feet, and warns you of his approach by its 
 gentle rustling. There you beheld another, whose 
 whole demeanour is full of subtlety and meanness : 
 how stealthy are all his movements, how insidious 
 the expression of his countenance and the tone of his 
 voice ! A third betrays, by the portly dimensions of 
 his person, and the gross denseness of his faculties, 
 his system of self-indulgence and uninterrupted
 
 CONSTANCY. 5 7 
 
 habits of indolence. Here too were sad and si- 
 lent Italians who might have verified the assertions 
 of Niebuhr, founded on observations made while 
 he lived among them : — " The Italians are walking 
 dead men : intellect and knowledge, any idea which 
 makes the heart throb, all generous activity, is ba- 
 nished from among them ; all hope, all aspiration, 
 all effort, even all cheerfulness, for I have never 
 seen a more cheerless nation. They make a resi- 
 dent here quite sad; no improvement is possible, 
 so profound is their degradation ; total prostration 
 without pain, and without the desire of any- 
 thing better. There is no possibility of making 
 any association of community of intellect and feel- 
 ing with them. There is no object of knowledge, 
 or of business to be the medium of intercourse." 
 
 But there were also many of their countrymen, 
 (fortunately not belonging to the haute nohlesse^ 
 for then their every faculty woiild have been numb- 
 ed and paralysed), who were poets, antiquarians, 
 painters, musicians ; who proved that the society 
 of Romans can still furnish wit, intelligence, learn- 
 ing, and talent, and every quality that can impart 
 brilliancy and interest to conversation. Among 
 these were intermingled heavy Belgians, well- 
 informed agreeable Germans, hvely Frenchmen, and 
 of course all the English in Rome to whom Lady 
 Sylvester chose to accord invitations. 
 
 But for all that was around him, Julian had 
 neither eyes nor ears, so anxious was he to discover 
 Mercedes. She was not beside Lady Sylvester, 
 
 D 3
 
 58 CONSTANCY. 
 
 who received him graciously when he entered ; 
 and he advanced with difficulty into an inner room 
 in the belief that she must be there ; nor was he 
 disappointed, for he immediately perceived her 
 seated on a couch beside which Lord Sylvester 
 was standing. The bitterness with which he 
 viewed this sight, caused him at first to turn away; 
 but he quickly directed his gaze again to the object 
 that so fascinated him ; and then he perceived that 
 there was beside her one who was a stranger to 
 him, many years younger than Lord Sylvester, and 
 very much handsomer, on whom her attention was 
 chiefly bestowed, and who addressed himself solely 
 to her while Lord Sylvester seemed to observe 
 them closely, but stood aloof in silence. The mild 
 expression of Mercedes' face, * so bland and beau- 
 tiful,' which it had worn when first he beheld her, 
 was changed as she listened to her companion to 
 one of brilliant animation ; the colour had mounted 
 on her cheek which was dimpled with smiles ; the 
 ringlets of her dark-brown hair contrasted well 
 with the snowy whiteness of the throat and neck 
 on which they fell. 
 
 Julian, though not near enough to her to catch the 
 accents of that voice, to him ' musical as is Apollo's 
 lyre,' yet watched her moving lips, and strove to 
 read the meaning of the words they uttered in the 
 changing expressions of her eloquent countenance. 
 
 So unconcerned herself, and he so much ! 
 What art is this, that with so Httle pains. 
 Transports him thus, and o'er his spirit reigns ? 
 
 WALLER.
 
 CONSTANCY. 59 
 
 Thus employed, he was almost unconscious 
 where he was, when, casting an envious glance on 
 him whom she addressed, he found that he had 
 attracted his notice, which was expressed by a 
 haughty stare. JuUan turned aside in involuntary 
 embarrassment, and moved to a distance. 
 
 " Surely," said Miss Ratchffe looking after him, 
 " that is Mr. Wilmot. I hope he knows some of 
 these people," she added to Lord Sylvester, who, 
 on this remark, quitted his post and went to 
 seek him. 
 
 Julian at first felt an inclination at once to leave 
 the room, and return to his own solitary chamber ; 
 but as he moved on, his progress was perpetually 
 arrested by those he encountered; and feeling a 
 hand placed on his shoulder, he turned, and per- 
 ceived Lord Sylvester. 
 
 " Whither so fast, my good friend ?" he said, 
 kindly ; " you are not tired of us yet surely. Are 
 you become so devoted a student as to refuse to 
 spare any time to relaxation ? That is not wise ; 
 it was not so with painters of yore. If you live 
 in solitude, you will make ' wit with musing 
 weak, heart sick with thought.' It is in society 
 that you will meet with such materials for improve- 
 ment as are to be found in the study of a face like 
 that. 
 
 L'occasion est belle ; il nous la faut cherir." 
 
 Julian started, for he thought this allusion 
 must be made to Mercedes : but following the
 
 60 CONSTANCY. 
 
 direction of Lord Sylvester's eyes, he perceived 
 that they rested on a beautiful woman, apparently 
 English, lovely indeed but not Mercedes. Her 
 complexion was of the most brilliant fairness, 
 while on her cheek was a bloom too delicate not 
 to be evanescent ; her pale golden hair was braided 
 round her classic head ; her features were of the 
 most faultless regularity ; but not even her large, 
 deep blue eyes, could redeem her countenance 
 from the charge of listless inanimation, and 
 cold insensibility. It did not even possess the 
 charm of placidity ; for the curl of her lip 
 betrayed an ungentle temper, and haughty dis- 
 content lurked in the lines around her mouth. 
 But as Julian observed the elegance of her sym- 
 metrical figure, her swan-like throat, her beautiful 
 hands and arms, and the exquisite grace of every 
 movement, he was forced to acknowledge that 
 though her beauty could never have spoken to his 
 heart as did that of Mercedes, still she well de- 
 served the homage of the busy throng around her. 
 With some feeling of awakened curiosity, he 
 began to scrutinize the crowd of her admirers. A 
 lively Frenchman, whose toilette had been most 
 sedulously soignee, and whose handsome person 
 recompensed his labours, was buzzing near striv- 
 ing to engage her ear ; but she only rolled her blue 
 eyes languidly upon him when he succeeded in his 
 attempt. A silent Italian stood at a little distance, 
 his large, dark, and melancholy eyes fixed im- 
 moveably upon her, with an expression of the
 
 CONSTANCY. 6 1 
 
 most fervent admiration. She only recognized his 
 presence by occasionally varying her attitude for 
 one of new grace. A countryman of his, who 
 had unfortunately acquired all the frivolity of the 
 Frenchman, but was without his savoir fawe, and 
 with all his legerete, possessed little of his wit ; 
 whose sole employment was to run over incessantly 
 all the common-places on his country, (il bel 
 cielo, le belle arti^ ^c.,) which he thought would 
 with foreigners suffice to hold the place of conver- 
 sation, to every beautiful stranger to whom he 
 could obtain an introduction, following this up 
 by an offer of his opera box for the evening, 
 and himself as a cicerone for the morning ; re- 
 peating with loud self-applause all the jests which 
 he had already so often proffered to English 
 ears, and after uttering a few unintelligible sounds^ 
 congratulating himself with the utmost compla- 
 cency on the proficiency he was so fast acquiring 
 in the language, was another claimant to her fa- 
 vour. She extended it to him so far as to allow 
 him to perform every possible service for her that 
 he w^as able to execute. 
 
 Near the lady was a Spanish noble, diminutive 
 in person, but not without dignity. On his brow 
 was stamped all the pride of Castile. He was a 
 preux chevalier ; and his fiery spirit flashed from 
 his glittering black eye. Brave as he was proud, 
 and preferring honour to any other possession, 
 he had sacrificed all in the cause he had es- 
 poused, and interested all those who could share
 
 62 CONSTANCY. 
 
 in his romantic generosity. But the sight of 
 Mercedes seemed to free him from the thraldom 
 of her beautiful countrywoman. Perhaps her dark 
 and eloquent eyes, her almost colourless skin and 
 peculiar style of beauty, revealed to him that 
 a kindred blood was flowing in her veins. He 
 approached Lady Sylvester, and begged to be pre- 
 sented to her lovely protegee. She smilingly 
 acquiesced ; and Julian, who became a still more 
 narrow observer of the changing scene, saw to his 
 surprise the young Englishman, who had hitherto 
 maintained his post at Mercedes' side, relinquish it 
 with an alacrity that showed anything but unwil- 
 lingness, and place himself beside the lady we have 
 described, by whom he was received with smiles 
 such as had not yet been lavished on any who had 
 approached her. 
 
 Julian witnessed such a proceeding with so much 
 astonishment, that he looked around with a desire 
 of finding some one that could gratify his curiosity 
 by telling the names of some of the persons who 
 had been the objects of his observations. Not far 
 from him, he perceived a brother artist of the 
 name of Raymond, with whom he had some ac- 
 quaintance ; one who had been long established in 
 Rome, and who met with a ready reception in 
 every salon. Wilmot approached him, and began 
 a conversation in which he found that his friend 
 was perfectly au courant of all that was going on 
 around them, and quite as communicative as he 
 could desire. In reply to the inquiry he made as
 
 CONSTANCY. 63 
 
 to the name of the lady who had attracted his at- 
 tention, Raymond exclaimed : 
 
 " That lady ? Dear me, where have you con- 
 cealed yourself since you have been in Rome ? 
 From the light of day, I should think ! Not to 
 know her does indeed argue yourself unknown. 
 She is Mrs. Annesly Marchmont ; beautiful crea- 
 ture, indeed ; incomparable, is she not ? Only 
 see her move; there, now^ she turns her head. 
 Look at her contour; exquisite, is it not? She 
 did me the honour of sitting for her picture last 
 year ; and this year, Macdonald is executing her 
 bust. Her hands and her feet you may see in 
 — 's studio ; the prettiest things he has there, in 
 my opinion. The gentleman beside her. Lady 
 Sylvester's son, Mr. Wentworth ; (the present Vis- 
 count, you know of course, is not her son), he 
 is to marry the great city heiress who travels with 
 them, and who was found out on purpose for him. 
 At least so say they who duly appreciate her Lady- 
 ship's talents for those arrangements. Don't you 
 think that Miss Ratcliffe might remark rather too 
 much devotion in his manner to the most formidable 
 rival of her claims to supremacy in beauty that 
 she will find ? There, that is Miss RatcHife yon- 
 der; she does not seem to be thinking of her 
 truant lover, but rather of the handsome Spaniard 
 at her side, the Marques de Florida. All his 
 estates are confiscated ! I dare say a few hundred 
 thousand pounds would be acceptable to him ; and 
 he would probably as soon live in merry England,
 
 64 CONSTANCY. 
 
 as dance attendance here on one whom he may- 
 call his sovereign if he please, but who, he must 
 know full well, will never win or wear a crown. I 
 am not sure that I approve Mr. Wentworth's taste 
 in preferring the fair beauty to the darker one. 
 See what feeling there is in her eye, and what intel- 
 lect on her brow ; and what an air of dignity 
 combined with so much sweetness. — What ! you 
 do not agree with me? Well, numbers are at 
 present on the side of her fair antagonist, certainly." 
 
 Julian shrank from hearing another expatiate on 
 the charms of Mercedes ; and was not sorry to 
 find his silence interpreted as difference of opinion. 
 He moved as much away as he could from his 
 loquacious companion, of whom he was weary; 
 and turning his attention to Mercedes, strove to 
 discover whether the absence of Mr. Wentworth, 
 and his assiduity elsewhere, caused her a pang. 
 He fancied that he could perceive her eyes not un- 
 frequently directed to the spot on which he stood, 
 and the animation of her manner diminished. 
 Enough — the truth of Raymond's assertion was 
 established, and he hastily sought to quit the room, 
 for he felt a sensation of suffocation suddenly over- 
 power him.~ Before he could effect his retreat, 
 Lord Sylvester again sought, and again stopped him. 
 
 " We want you to go with us to-morrow to see 
 some pictures for which we have a private order," 
 he said. " Be with us about twelve. If you can 
 spare the time, I think you will not afterwards 
 regret that you have done so."
 
 CONSTANCY. 65 
 
 Julian thus taken by surprise, silently bowed 
 his thanks and acquiescence, and departed. 
 
 And now the evening to which he had looked 
 forward with so much desire, the prospect of which 
 had made so many days hang so heavily on his 
 hands, was over ; and how had it passed ? He 
 had not even approached her ; not even proffered 
 to her the common forms of salutation ; not even 
 heard the melody of her voice, though only in 
 accents addressed to others. Nor was this all ; he 
 had learned that her hand was engaged ; — this he 
 had anticipated ; — but it was not even to him whom 
 he had been constrained to allow worthy to possess 
 it, but to one who appeared lightly to prize the 
 treasure bestowed on him.
 
 66 CONSTANCY. 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 Treading their path in sympathy, and Hnked 
 In social converse. 
 
 One spirit seldom failed to extend its sway 
 Over both minds. 
 
 WORDSWORTH. 
 
 In spite of his recent disappointment, Julian, 
 on opening his eyes the next morning, remembered 
 with joy the engagement which was. to bring him 
 again into the presence of Mercedes, and thus 
 proved the truth of the philosopher's assertion, 
 that ' man's progress is not from pleasure to plea- 
 sure, but from hope to hope.' It was with a 
 feeling of involuntary delight, that he observed, on 
 
 his arrival at the Palazzo , that Wentworth 
 
 did not appear among the party assembled. Mer- 
 cedes held out her hand to him as he entered, and 
 said with a manner full of cordiality : 
 
 " I never spoke to you last night, Mr. Wilmot. 
 Was the crowd too formidable to permit you to 
 reach me ? I wanted to talk to you about a letter 
 from my father that I received yesterday, in which 
 he mentions you." 
 
 Equally surprised and delighted by her action, 
 Julian eagerly took her proffered hand, but was 
 almost too much agitated to comprehend her words,
 
 CONSTANCY. 67 
 
 and stammered in reply. Mercedes, struck by 
 the timidity and embarrassment of his manner, 
 redoubled her efforts to set him at ease by the 
 frank kindness of her own. When they reached 
 the gallery which was the object of their visit. 
 Miss Ratcliffe missed no opportunity of seeking 
 his opinions with the deference she believed them 
 to deserve. 
 
 In the course of this morning Julian felt more 
 deeply than before that the society of Mercedes 
 did indeed possess a peculiar charm for him. Her 
 love of his art had much of the same enthusiasm 
 which marked his own devotion to it. In addition 
 to this sympathy with his tastes, the sincere plea- 
 sure which it afforded Mercedes to obey to the 
 utmost of her power, the request of her beloved 
 father, inclined her from the first, to seek every 
 possible means of benefiting Julian, and she re- 
 solved, by obtaining for him from Lady Sylvester 
 a general admission to the house, to gain him 
 as much notice among those who frequented it as 
 possible, and above all, to seek to interest Lord 
 Sylvester in his welfare. This last wish was 
 speedily gratified ; for from this day, Lord Syl- 
 vester bestowed on him far more of his attention 
 than it was at all his habit to give to strangers ; 
 frequently sought him in his studio, and invited 
 him to accompany them in their visits to scenes 
 which he thought mutually interesting. The sin- 
 gular genius which Julian displayed, the passionate 
 earnestness with which he pursued his object, the
 
 68 CONSTANCY. 
 
 melancholy which pervaded his thoughts and senti- 
 ments, and every expression of them, the pathetic 
 turn which his imagination gave to things before 
 indifferent, the intelligence and sensibility that 
 beamed from his eye, and modulated every tone of 
 his voice, and not less the timid reserve of his 
 manner, that seemed to conceal from sight so much 
 that was worth discovering, all these characteristics 
 inspired Lord Sylvester and Mercedes with a lively 
 interest in him from the time he became personally 
 known to them. The thoughts and the heart of 
 Mercedes, however, were by no means sufficiently 
 disengaged to allow this feeling to reach, as per- 
 haps it might otherwise have done, a dangerous 
 height. Not so with the unhappy young painter ; 
 every day saw him more enslaved by the fascina- 
 tions of his lovely patroness. He soon discovered 
 that the talent she displayed in her attempts to 
 exercise his art was by no means inconsiderable. 
 The modest ardour with which she sought the 
 opinions and advice of those who excelled in it, 
 the interest with which she viewed the ' mighty 
 monuments of vanished minds,' the natural taste 
 that dictated her remarks, and the earnestness with 
 which she pursued those occupations in which she 
 found pleasure, all enhanced the charm with which 
 her beauty and her manner had first invested her ; 
 and he was enabled, by affording her the instruc- 
 tions she coveted and so gratefully received, to live 
 in the almost daily enjoyment of her dangerous 
 society. This harmony of taste furnished them
 
 CONSTANCY. 69 
 
 also with a ready and never-failing topic of conver- 
 sation whenever and wherever they met, which 
 circumstance had the effect of relieving Julian from 
 half the timidity which usually impeded his progress 
 in intimacy, and sealed his lips in general society. 
 
 Lord Sylvester usually took a part in their 
 conversations, and thus prevented their frequency 
 from becoming either remarkable to others, or 
 in any way embarrassing to themselves. From 
 Lady Sylvester, Julian experienced neither neglect 
 nor unkindness ; she did not choose to offend a 
 friend of Mr. Ratcliffe, and it was rather pleasing 
 to her to play the part of a patroness. From 
 Arundel alone he encountered dislike. The jea- 
 lousy of Arundel's temper caused him to regard 
 with displeasure all who won praise by any means 
 whatever. This feeling was by no means confined 
 to those who were peculiarly his rivals, excelling 
 him in those arts in which he considered himself, 
 and desired to be considered, excellent ; in horse- 
 manship and manly sports, in the favoiu: of the 
 ladies, or in the display of more brilliant wit, a 
 more attractive person, or any of those superficial 
 accomplishments in the possession of which he 
 gloried. It was offence enough that they obtained 
 distinction, be it how it might. The dislike which 
 he had from the first felt towards JuHan had 
 many sources. At the root of all, perhaps, was 
 the consciousness that, only in station was he his 
 superior. The claims that Julian had to be re- 
 ceived as a gentleman from his education, his
 
 70 CONSTANCY. 
 
 manners, his appearance, and also his birth, placed 
 him on a footing that made him almost as ob- 
 noxious to Arundel as a more avowed rival. 
 
 The young artist, with his fine, intellectual coun- 
 tenance, and that pensive melancholy which tem- 
 pered the fire of his eye, his acknowledged genius 
 and deep enthusiasm, did not fail to awaken much 
 interest. The silent manner in which he shrank 
 from public notice rather than courting it, instead 
 of disarming Arundel's animosity, only increased it ; 
 for the man of the world never feels his indigna- 
 tion excited by a rival more strongly than when he 
 perceives that the very things that he so highly 
 prizes, are lightly esteemed by him w^ho, neverthe- 
 less, wins them. Added to this, the favour in 
 which he stood with Lord Sylvester and Mercedes 
 was another cause of dislike. Arundel, like most 
 of the flattered and spoilt children of fashion, was 
 often betrayed into the display of the most childish 
 irritability ; and it was enough for any person or 
 any thing to have been the means of calling forth a 
 rebuke or a reflection on his conduct, to render 
 them ever afterwards an object of spite. Some of 
 his invidious remarks on Julian had provoked re- 
 plies both from his brother and from Mercedes, 
 which, though they silenced him, only embittered 
 his feelings more ; but he soon discovered that 
 Julian, though shy and unobtrusive in his usual 
 deportment, knew well how to repel disrespect, 
 and how to extort courtesy from the most im- 
 pertinent possessors of rank and fashion. Having
 
 CONSTANCY. 7 1 
 
 made this discovery, Arundel ceased to be an ag- 
 gressor, and sometimes he was not sorry to find 
 that Wilmot provided Mercedes with occupations 
 that prevented her from observing or resenting his 
 continual absence. Mercedes one day said to Julian : 
 
 " Le voyageur en Italie est oblige de voir des 
 palais et des eglises, so whenever you can spare 
 time pray make a giro wdth us to some of those 
 we ought first to see. I have not been to the 
 Vatican yet. Do come and introduce me to it." 
 
 Could Julian refuse? At the appointed hour 
 he was waiting in the corridor, and pacing back- 
 wards and forwards in impatient anxiety to see the 
 carriage draw up at the end of the colonnade. At 
 length, it arrived. It contained only Lady Sylves- 
 ter, Mercedes, and Lord Sylvester. Wentworth 
 had not accompanied them ; and again Julian's 
 heart beat with pleasure on perceiving his absence. 
 
 Lord Sylvester offered his arm to his mother, 
 and Mercedes followed Julian with a swiftness that 
 soon forced him to leave them behind, or to be 
 outstripped by her. When she reached the court, 
 she paused awhile, panting from the rapidity with 
 which she had ascended; then, again springing 
 forward, she bounded up the steps, and leaning 
 against the gate, which still separated her from 
 the treasures she desired to behold, impatiently 
 awaited her tardy followers. As soon as they en- 
 tered, she whispered hurriedly to Julian : 
 • " Let us go at once to the ApoUo and the Lao- 
 coon. I cannot stay here." 
 
 " We have still very far to go," replied Julian
 
 72 CONSTANCY. 
 
 with a smile. They passed onward through the 
 Gallery of Inscriptions, Julian saying as they did 
 so : " When you have exhausted all beyond, you 
 must pause here." 
 
 " Yes," answered Mercedes, " I will — but not 
 to-day ; not even to speak." 
 
 In consideration of Mercedes' wishes, Julian led 
 them past the Gallery of the Nile, without turning 
 aside to enter it, and up the steps to the magnifi- 
 cent Torso, whose claims to our respect are for ever 
 established by the remembrance of the veneration 
 paid to it before us, by one who is himself handed 
 down to posterity as the possessor of a deathless 
 fame."^ They glanced at Meleager and his grizzly 
 boar, and then issued out into the quadrangle in 
 which is to be found the presiding deity of the 
 place. Mercedes had now her wish, and stood in 
 the presence of the Apollo. 
 
 Oh, glorious Apollo ! will aught of human con- 
 ception ever be more divine ? How could more 
 majesty be conceived ? How could more beauty 
 be expressed ? Thou art Apollo ! — thou art no 
 other god ! Oh, Phoebus ! oh, resplendent light 
 of day! How dazzling is thy glory! Thy visage is 
 not cruel ; yet is thy demeanour that of one prompt 
 to avenge every wrong and every insult. Oh ! 
 foolish, misguided Marsyas, how benighted was 
 thy intellect when thou declaredst thyself his rival 1 
 Oh ! rash, unwise Agamemnon ; how couldst thou 
 dare to profane his altar, and expose thy hosts to 
 his wrath ? Well couldst thou, mighty Apollo, in 
 * Michael Angelo.
 
 CONSTANCY. 73 
 
 all the untried vigour of thy youth,"^ avenge thy 
 mother's wrongs, disappoint her jealous rival, and 
 slay the appalling instrument of her fury. 
 
 Mercedes lost in admiration of the inconceivable 
 excellence of the work before her, so novel to her 
 inexperienced eyes, could give no utterance to the 
 thoughts suggested by the contemplation of it. 
 She gazed on it in abstracted silence, and was 
 deaf to the remarks of those around her; then 
 moving as if in a dream, she slowly followed her 
 companions into the adjoining portico, which con- 
 tains the group of the Laocoon, in which expres- 
 sion is given to ' la pensee la plus tragique que 
 jamais la sculpture ait consacree.^ Julian ob- 
 served that after she had looked on it for awhile, 
 she turned pale, and shivered; nor was he sur- 
 prised to see her thus alive to the terrors of it. 
 
 With what a vehemence of appeal, the appeal 
 of terror and anguish, do the sons turn to the 
 father, as if in him they had always hope ; as if 
 such was their confidence in the power of a parent 
 to protect and succour, that they cannot believe 
 that they shall now be left to perish without his 
 consent being in some manner given to their cruel 
 doom. In what an agony of excruciating pain 
 does one of the children strive to extricate his 
 crushed ancles from the dreadful coils of the ser- 
 pent ! Look at the repelling hands of the other 
 wretched youth ; did ever human limbs speak more 
 
 * Apollo was, I believe, three days old when he slew the 
 serpent Python. 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 CONSTANCY. 
 
 exquisite torment in their contortions ? In what an 
 agony of excruciating pain does the father contract 
 and lessen his wTithing body ! And what more 
 horrible than that the father, while his mangled 
 children are beside him perishing, should by the 
 calls of the flesh, by the sense of those tortures 
 that will make themselves felt, that will crush and 
 break up into a helpless mass the bruised body, 
 and expel the spirit violently from its dismantled 
 temple, be forced to turn his thoughts on himself 
 when he should be thinking of them ; be forced to 
 abandon them, to yield them no assistance ! How 
 useless, how vain, how impotent their struggles ! 
 The beholder gazes on the sufferers without hope, 
 without expectation that Gods or men will set them 
 free. A dull despair enters his heart. As he turns 
 away, a conviction of the invincibleness of destiny 
 weighs crushingly on his spirit. He feels in the 
 presence of a hideous mystery ; an impenetrable 
 gloom seems to pervade the very atmosphere 
 around this group. Such must have been the 
 emotions excited by the representations of those 
 tragedies of the ancient poets, in which the re- 
 morseless fates and furies are represented as work- 
 ing their irresistible wills. The darkness of despair 
 presides, hanging like the thick curtain of night, 
 shutting out the mild effulgence of hope. 
 
 Julian, whose only desire was to gratify Merce- 
 des, seeing how deeply she was affected by what 
 slie had already seen, proposed that they should 
 leave the rest of the sculpture for another day,
 
 CONSTANCY. 75 
 
 and proceed to visit the pictures in the upper 
 chambers ; and as they acquiesced, he led the way 
 thither. Supposing that she would be equally im- 
 patient as before to reach at once the chief object 
 of attraction, he said : 
 
 " Let us pass on into the room which contains 
 the Transfiguration." 
 
 Mercedes, after greater expression of admiration 
 than she had before found words to utter, remarked 
 to the young painter : 
 
 " How inadequate, I may say how untrue, an 
 idea of this magnificent picture has hitherto been 
 conveyed to my mind by all copies, engravings, and 
 studies from it that I have ever seen. I scarcely 
 had any conception of the grandeur of the compo- 
 sition, none at all of the beauty of the colouring, 
 and was wholly unacquainted with the fine charac- 
 ter of the heads. I have so much more pleasure 
 than I had anticipated." 
 
 " Do you not feel the most lively interest," said 
 Julian, " in every individual of that afflicted group 
 from the moment you cast your eyes on it ? What 
 tender parental afi'ection can we perceive in the 
 father who supports his child, and regards him with 
 dismay. The very manner in which he handles 
 him declares that he is his child, and expresses the 
 exquisite tenderness of his feelings towards him. 
 What anguish does the sight of his sufferings 
 cause him ! You can see the strong man trem- 
 bhng with emotion and horror; while in the 
 mother, the course of nature seems reversed. She 
 
 E 2
 
 76 CONSTANCY. 
 
 endures her agony with a naajestic calmness, as- 
 sumed by her in order to infuse into her husband 
 that composui^e under misfortune which leaves the 
 mourner capable of making the greatest exertions, 
 while invigorated by the hope of remedying the 
 evil. How self-command strengthens and sup- 
 ports herself and others ! Look at that meek, me- 
 lancholy countenance, so beautifully feminine ; she 
 is the sister. Do you not perceive at once that 
 her office is to soothe the maniac in his milder 
 moods, when the fit is less strong upon him, and 
 do not you believe that she has gained a gentle 
 influence over him that no other possesses ? The 
 apostles, meantime, are disheartened, are con- 
 founded .. are grieved, are touched with compas- 
 sion ; and these various emotions are to be disco- 
 vered in their various attitudes and countenances." 
 
 Lord Sylvester, after pointing out and expatiat- 
 ing on the extraordinary merit and beauty of the 
 upper group, remarked : 
 
 " I cannot at all join in the general condemna- 
 tion of the union of two actions which probably 
 were passing at the same moment, in the same 
 picture. The mind has no difficulty in combining 
 them ; though to have done so must have been, 
 I confess, impossible to the outward vision. Still, 
 I see nothing in this trifling anachronism that 
 shocks the eye, and certainly nothing that is repug- 
 nant to the imagination. And now," continued 
 Lord Sylvester, " we must not neglect to observe 
 the opposite picture, the chef-d'oeuvre of Domeni- 
 chino. Is it not magnificent ?"
 
 CONSTANCY. / 7 
 
 " Yes," replied Julian, " it is magnificent, in 
 execution and in composition, never surpassed per- 
 haps in either ; but how inferior to its companion in 
 poetry and imagination ! No tale is told that 
 touches the heart or elevates it. The aged saint 
 is an unpleasant exhibition of decayed mortality ; 
 the other personages attract your attention prin- 
 cipally by the richness of their garments. This 
 kneeling figure in white is indeed graceful and 
 beautiful." 
 
 "And the angels," added Lord Sylvester, "if 
 not encumbered with so much clothing would be 
 so. The lion is a majestic creature, and the land- 
 scape and back- ground are singularly beautiful." 
 
 Mercedes showed that she felt with Julian that 
 this picture was wanting in interest, by following 
 him almost immediately to another, on which he 
 was gazing with peculiar fondness, and he seemed 
 to watch her approach with an eager desire to 
 lead her to participate in his pleasure. 
 
 " This," he said, as they stood before the Ma- 
 donna di Foligno, " is a work of Raphael's which 
 in almost any other gallery would engross the 
 whole of our interest. Even here we shall per- 
 haps return to it with greater delight than to its 
 more imposing companions of which the very 
 vastness and the complicated interests naturally 
 occasion us fatigue ; we shall willingly take refuge 
 in this more simple and no less beautiful picture. 
 Look up into the clouds, and behold one of Ra- 
 phael's loveliest virgins. One of his heavenly con-
 
 78 CONSTANCY. 
 
 ceptions of the Madonna, which make us feel that 
 the imaginations of all other poets are mundane, 
 and that they are incapable of infusing into the 
 subject aU which it is fitted to contain. The same 
 may be said of the infant Jesus. It is not a mere 
 child, beautiful in its innocence : it is the child 
 Emanuel, and no other. And how fit to be his 
 attendant is the angel beneath ! What adoration 
 in his countenance ! What intensity of love speaks 
 from his eyes ! How admirable a contrast to so 
 much lovehness, softness, and youth, is afforded by 
 the bronzed visage and rugged aspect of the Bap- 
 tist and the venerable appearance of the grey-haired 
 old men around ! How picturesque is the distant 
 landscape in which the chief object is the favoured 
 town, whose exemption fi:'om injury during a ter- 
 rible and devastating tempest was recorded by this 
 picture. There are still other works of Raphael 
 closely resembling those of his master, Perugino ; 
 inferior indeed to those which were the final re- 
 sults of his own unbiassed taste and judgment, but 
 full of beauties and well worthy to be observed. 
 There is a fidelity to nature in every head which in- 
 vests them with individuality in a singular and most 
 interesting manner ; a holy sanctity of expression, an 
 earnestness of feehng, a fervour of devotion that is 
 not to be found in the same measure, in any 
 other pictures that I have ever seen, excepting also 
 in those of Perugino himself, one of whose capi di 
 maestro I must show you in the next room. There 
 we shall also find some smaller works of Raphael,
 
 CONSTANCY. 79 
 
 which have afforded me extreme pleasure ; but per- 
 haps you will scarcely share it." 
 
 With these words, he led them to the Resur- 
 rection, painted by Perugino. After they had readily 
 acquiesced in the truth of the praises he had be- 
 stowed on that painter, Wilmot added : 
 
 " This picture, moreover, possesses an individual 
 charm which I am sure will endear it to your 
 memories. Do you see this sleeping soldier in the 
 foreground ? The youth, the singular beauty, nay 
 more, the loveliness of the countenance, the perfect 
 repose of the whole figure, the inaction of every 
 limb ; these are admirable features in it, and it is 
 well that you should remark these merits before you 
 learn that peculiar one in which they are all swal- 
 lowed up and forgotten, at least such was the effect 
 on me when I first recognized in it the portrait of 
 Raphael himself. And this other who is awake 
 and flying in dismay from the scene of the miracle, 
 is Perugino. Is there not something," said Julian, 
 in a voice of emotion, and addressing himself pe- 
 culiarly to Mercedes, " inexpressibly touching in 
 the remembrance of the tender attachment which 
 subsisted between the youthfid scholar and the re- 
 vered master, and the delicacy which marked the 
 demonstrations they gave of the mutual feeling ?" 
 
 Mercedes felt convinced more strongly than she 
 could have been by any assurances, that at this 
 moment Julian as earnestly desired to emulate his 
 gratitude as his genius. She knew that he was 
 thinking of her father.
 
 80 CONSTANCY. 
 
 " We shall presently see," replied Lord Syl- 
 vester, " a public testimony of the scholar's grateful 
 love and reverence in those figures which he re- 
 fused to obliterate because his naaster's hand tiad 
 executed them." 
 
 " Ah !" exclaimed Mercedes, " what work could 
 have honoured his memory as that refusal did ! 
 But, Mr. Wilmot, you must not forget to show us 
 those pictures which you mentioned, but doubted 
 whether we should admire." 
 
 " Here is one of them," said Julian, with a 
 smile. " Is it not true that some of the creations 
 of fancy and the works of genius excite in us a more 
 sudden pleasure, and win our admiration more than 
 others do, without our being able to account for 
 this power, or to praise them more, or to prove sa- 
 tisfactorily to those over whom they exercise it 
 not, that they ought to be better loved ; just as it 
 is with some faces that possess an indescribable 
 charm, * than beauty dearer,' that never yields to 
 any other superiority, however undeniably greater ? 
 Will you not allow that these representations of 
 Faith, Hope and Charity are lovely ? And this 
 Annunciation, the middle compartment of this 
 picture which is divided into three ! The others 
 are the Adoration of the Magi and the Presenta- 
 tion at the Temple, which I will not entreat you 
 to admire. But see how pure and simple is the 
 Virgin in her meditation, and how light, aerial, 
 and buoyant with joy is the angel as he comes on 
 his blessed mission. He scarcely seems to touch
 
 CONSTANCY. 8 1 
 
 the ground beneath him. How beautifully elegant 
 is the architectural design which fills up the back- 
 ground !" 
 
 Just as they had ceased to examine the pictures 
 we have enumerated, and before they could bestow 
 even a glance on the many others which we have not, 
 the Papal guards began to clear the apartments, and 
 to dismiss the company. Mercedes departed with 
 regret; but still she felt that the lively interest 
 which had been excited was followed by exhaus- 
 tion, which demanded repose and engendered a mood 
 of contemplative silence that has its own peculiar 
 charm. She did not forget to thank Julian for 
 the pleasure which she had derived from listening 
 to his remarks, but she experienced a feehng of 
 relief when Lord Sylvester took the young painter's 
 arm and proposed to accompany him home on foot, 
 instead of entering the carriage. 
 
 She could not, however, leave the Piazza without 
 being once more stimulated to admire. The even- 
 ing was calm and serene, and the sky throughout 
 the day had presented an unclouded beauty. At 
 this hour, the Colonnade, the fountains and the 
 Obelisk were on one side burnished by the unfaded 
 glow of the rays of the setting sun ; and on the 
 other, glittered with the cold, silvery stream of 
 light that the rising moon emitted. Mercedes 
 gazed on this strange and lovely spectacle as long 
 as it was before her eyes, and then sank back to 
 indulge in a delicious reverie, to which Lady Syl- 
 vester offered no interruption, for she fell asleep. 
 
 E 3
 
 82 CONSTANCY. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Altra non veggio mai, ne veder bramo, 
 N^ '1 nome d' altra ne' sospir miei chiamo. 
 
 PETRARCA. 
 
 The summons of which Lord Sylvester was the 
 bearer to Julian, to attend Mercedes and his mother 
 in their peregrinations in the Eternal City, became 
 more and more frequent. His presence seemed 
 by all of them to be considered indispensable, and 
 Julian continued to obey, but it was with no un- 
 troubled mind that he did so. The very frankness 
 with which Mercedes invited him to join her on 
 all occasions, and the undisguised pleasure with 
 which she always welcomed him, instead of giving 
 him any satisfaction, were but so many cmel 
 wounds to his heart, as they were but so many 
 proofs of the entire indifference of her own. 
 
 Sometimes, on returning home he would pas- 
 sionately declare, as he recalled all the trifling oc- 
 currences of the day they had passed together, 
 that were she to detect the love he so cautiously 
 concealed, and indignantly forbid him again to 
 approach her, shedding perhaps at the same mo- 
 ment one tear of pity to soften, though not to 
 cancel the rigid decree, such conduct would cause 
 him less bitterness of feeling than her present un-
 
 CONSTANCY. 83 
 
 heeding kindness. He generally returned, however, 
 to the conviction, that to be permitted to be near her 
 and to behold her, even though silent and forgotten, 
 was far more endurable than absence. At times 
 he would even so far fancy himself happy as to 
 rejoice in his freedom of intercourse with her, 
 grateful for the interest which she felt in him, and 
 satisfied to possess the friendship which she did 
 not hesitate to express with a warmth of which he 
 had no reason to doubt the sincerity. 
 
 Sometimes, it is true, his mind misgave him ; 
 his wilful blindness could not render him wholly 
 insensible to the dangerous folly of thus continuing 
 to seek the very cause of the malady that consumed 
 him. He could not turn a deaf ear to the rebukes 
 of conscience ; but when ' severer reason formed 
 far other views' than those wild ones with which 
 his fancy solaced his pain, he would seek to justify 
 himself in her sight, by pleading that any proceed- 
 ing contrary to the line of conduct he had adopted, 
 would, in his situation, be so unaccountable, that it 
 could not fail to awaken a suspicion of the hidden 
 cause, and thus at once precipitate him into those 
 difficulties which he had most to fear. If reason 
 still appeared unsatisfied, he would silence her 
 farther expostulations by a peremptory assertion 
 that the devotion which he paid to Mercedes was, 
 in its open demonstrations, no more than what he 
 ow^ed to her fatlier; that to neglect to perform 
 every trifling service for her that she asked at the 
 expense of his time, and, (though she knew it not,)
 
 84 CONSTANCY. 
 
 of his peace of mind, was to shield himself from 
 danger, only by being guilty of ingratitude. In 
 short, it was nothing more than his duty not to 
 let a day pass without seeing her, and to occupy 
 his thoughts in attempting to anticipate her wishes, 
 and his time in seeking to fulfil them. The hours 
 which for this purpose he borrowed from those he 
 had hitherto allotted to his studies, he strove to 
 repay by stealing them from his rest, and the ear- 
 Hest beams of the sun found him at his easel, pale, 
 perhaps, and fatigued by the vigils of the preceding 
 night. With such specious arguments as these he 
 replied to reason ; and silenced, not convinced, she 
 could only hide her face and blush. 
 
 Such an unsatisfactory conference it was that occu- 
 pied his mind one day as he walked along the Corso 
 on his way to the palazzo, to keep a promise he had 
 made to Miss Ratcliife to accompany her to the 
 Corsini Gallery. There were many others of the 
 party ; but, as was their custom. Lord Sylvester 
 and Mercedes bestowed their attention principally 
 on the young painter, whose opinions they sought 
 to elicit. The pleasure which they derived from 
 their visit to this extensive and beautiful gallery, 
 was not inferior to what they had promised them- 
 selves. The Ecce Homo, too painful to be con- 
 templated with satisfaction, the beautiful landscapes, 
 the excellent portraits, among others Titian's 
 Philip II., the ' salvage beasts' of Rubens, and 
 many other well-known pictures detained them long. 
 " I must," said Mercedes, pausing before a St.
 
 CONSTANCY. 85 
 
 Sebastian, by Rubens, " bave seen at least a hun- 
 dred paintings of this subject since I have been in 
 Italy, and yet I do not remember one so affecting 
 as this is ;" and she gazed on it not without emo- 
 tion : there was no one very near her excepting 
 Julian, who, contemplating it also, said in a low 
 voice : 
 
 " It is the introduction of these ministerino* 
 angels that renders this picture so touching. Be- 
 hold this one who is striving to slacken the cords 
 round his ancles, so that they may not cut the 
 bone. With what exquisite tenderness does an- 
 other seek to extricate the arrow from his side, 
 without widening the wound, or causing a fresh 
 throb of agony ! And may not this lovely vision 
 be only the representation of an unseen truth ? Is 
 it not probable that invisible spirits hover around 
 the martyr in his hour of pain, and minister to the 
 servants even as they ministered to the Master 
 when they brought him food in the desert ? Do 
 not they also need sustenance? Is there any 
 thought more replete with consolation than this : 
 that our griefs and agonies are not exposed to the 
 eyes of men only, from which we would so gladly 
 escape. Even our joys and pleasures may be en- 
 hanced by the same belief. The idea that there 
 are purer and higher beings ascending up to God 
 himself, who behold the inmost feelings of our 
 hearts, and sympathize with them, may lend sup- 
 port in the bitterest hour, and impart additional 
 ecstacy to the happiest !"
 
 86 CONSTANCY. 
 
 Julian stopped, dismayed at the length and 
 nature of the rhapsody in which he had indulged. 
 Thus when with kindred spirits would the timidity 
 and reserve inherent in his character be for awhile 
 forgotten, and he would at such times pour forth 
 thoughts and sentiments almost too solemn for 
 utterance. 
 
 Mercedes listened in silent emotion ; at length 
 she moved on, slowly. When next she stopped, 
 it was before Guido's well-known picture of He- 
 rodias's Daughter, and she said, 
 
 " I cannot admire that picture very much in 
 any respect; but I think that the countenance 
 exactly represents our ideas of her, unless indeed 
 we think of her as a child. It is a face of so 
 much beauty, and of so little interest. What do 
 you think of it ?" 
 
 " I agree with you in thinking the conception of 
 the character very good ; but I do not admire the 
 painting, nor the arrangement of the picture. 
 There is a great deal of beauty in the countenance, 
 and also an expression of absolute imbecility. We 
 should remember in looking at this, that we are 
 never led to suppose that the daughter of Hero- 
 dias was actuated by any passion in making her 
 barbarous request. She felt neither hatred nor 
 anger. If Herodias herself were represented, it 
 would be proper to portray her with a countenance 
 convulsed with contending passions and full of 
 malignancy. Here, there is no ferocity to terrify 
 us ; but there is a heartlessness that disgusts. I
 
 CONSTANCY. 87 
 
 am glad that he has not infused any intellect into 
 that face. A combination of great mental power 
 and great wickedness would be fiendish." 
 
 Lady Sylvester was so much charmed with a 
 Madonna of Carlo Maratti, that she called to 
 Mercedes to come and see it. 
 
 " How very pretty !" exclaimed Miss Ratcliife, 
 as soon as she looked at it. It is a picture of 
 the Virgin reading. The face is one of extreme 
 beauty, much less fair than painters generally re- 
 present her ; the hair being of a dark brown, and 
 the complexion warm and glowing. The dress is 
 brown also, and gracefully folded over the head 
 and falling on the shoulders ; the back-ground 
 represents a curtain drawn aside, and a view of a 
 distant landscape ; simplicity and repose reign 
 throughout the picture. 
 
 Julian remained beside Mercedes till the rest of 
 the party had advanced, and then said : 
 
 " You have applied the very term to it ; it is 
 very pretty. It is wholly destitute of the sublimity 
 and the ideaHty which I think ought to enter into 
 this subject. It is a picture of a beautiful maiden 
 enjoying aU the peace of innocence ; but if it be 
 Mary, let us at least suppose it to be Mary before 
 the Annunciation ; for that face does not express 
 a heart filled with those high thoughts which made 
 the meek and lowly Virgin declare that hence- 
 forth ' aU generations should call her blessed.' " 
 
 "Ah!" replied Mercedes, " I think that none 
 but Raphael has ever expressed what you describe.
 
 88 CONSTANCY. 
 
 I wish that you would make the attempt your- 
 self." 
 
 On entering a smaller room, they found it filled 
 with portraits, many of which were excellent ; and 
 the productions of Titian, Vandyke, and others 
 equally celebrated. 
 
 " How plainly," said Lord Sylvester, as he 
 examined them, " you can read the character of 
 the Romish church in its palmy days, in the por- 
 traits of its noble and most distinguished prelates. 
 How rarely do you find one that really represents 
 anything but a magnificent prince, a haughty war- 
 rior, a subtle statesman, or a lover of pleasure and 
 the good things of this life. There is nothing of 
 the apostolic character to be found in them. Their 
 countenances often bear traces of cruelty and 
 craft ; they are often mocking and sarcastic ; their 
 dress is luxurious, and frequently their persons are 
 effeminate." 
 
 " Here is one who is not effeminate," said Lady 
 Sylvester, who caught his last words, and stopped 
 before the portrait of a cardinal. He was singu- 
 larly handsome ; his piercing black eyes were full 
 of intellect, and threatened to look quite through 
 the deeds of men. 
 
 " No," replied Lord Sylvester, " certainly not ; 
 that bushy black beard alone will exempt him 
 from that charge ; but you will find it difficult to 
 shield him from some of the other epithets that I 
 made use of. But we must proceed, at least if 
 you s.tiU wish to carry into effect your intention of
 
 CONSTANCY. 89 
 
 entering the garden, which will quite reward 
 you for the exertion of so doing. The view of 
 Rome from the Janiculum is one of the best, 
 I think." 
 
 Lady Sylvester expressed her willingness to 
 comply with this proposal ; and Mercedes, though 
 she felt that the pleasure which the gallery could 
 have afforded' was not half exhausted, followed 
 without expostulation.
 
 90 CONSTANCY. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Can you not see, or will you not observe 
 The strangeness of his altered countenance ? 
 How insolent he is become of late ? 
 
 SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 " Indeed, my dear Arundel," exclaimed Lady 
 Sylvester, " you seem exceedingly out of humour 
 this morning. You have contradicted every remark 
 I have made, although they were all very common- 
 place, really mere truisms. You have disarranged 
 all the plans that I had formed, and yet proposed 
 no better instead. If we were in England, you 
 might lay all your faults on the climate and trust 
 to be forgiven. But here the sun shines too 
 brightly for you to find any excuse." 
 
 " I am out of sorts, I confess," replied Arundel, 
 walking to the open window, and leaning out of 
 it, cruelly twisting in his fingers as he spoke, a 
 rose-coloured billet, scented with rich perfumes, 
 which he finally tore into very minute pieces, and 
 dropped them one by one into the street beneath, 
 seeming to be actuated by a feeling of spite even 
 towards the pretty embossed rose buds, and the 
 delicate characters thereon inscribed; "but I would 
 not avail myself of your excuse even if it existed. 
 * Mon humeur ne depend guere du temps. Tai
 
 CONSTANCY. 9 1 
 
 mon brouillard et mon beau temps au-dedans de 
 moi. Le Men et le mal de mes affaires mdmes y 
 font peu,^ as I read in some French book of Miss 
 Ratcliffe's yesterday." 
 
 "Well," said Lady Sylvester with some impa- 
 tience, " I hope the fog that just now obscures 
 your intellects is not very dense, for it is about your 
 own affairs that I wish to consult you, and I have 
 been waiting for an opportunity to speak seriously 
 to you. It is true that I have undertaken the 
 management of them ; but I cannot and will not 
 any longer dispense with your aid. Be assured 
 that you are greatly mistaken if you imagine that 
 Mercedes Ratcliffe is a woman that will submit to 
 the indignity of neglect. She is very young and 
 very inexperienced, it is true ; and I have pos- 
 sessed her mind very strongly with the idea that 
 you really love her. But, though she is unsuspi- 
 cious, she is also singularly intelligent ; and if once 
 undeceived, you will find the task of blinding her 
 again far beyond your power. How ungratefid 
 and how unreasonable you are. ' Tu fais Vindif- 
 ferent et le degoute dans la bonne fortune.^ 
 You will provoke me to leave you to your fate, and 
 to suffer you to drag on a weary existence on a 
 miserable pittance ; a younger brother's scanty 
 provision." 
 
 " Ah, there it is !" yawned Arundel. " Why 
 was I a younger brother ? There is Sylvester, nov/, 
 would be just as happy if his income were hun- 
 dreds instead of thousands — flu' happier, indeed ;
 
 92 CONSTANCY. 
 
 for then his conscience, instead of preaching to him 
 the duty of dwelling among his own people, serving 
 his country, et cetera, would allow him to remain 
 here, to study the fine arts and cultivate his taste ; 
 to wander from churches to picture galleries, and 
 from palaces to ruins. Ah, mother ! you should 
 have done better." 
 
 " Believe me, my dear Arundel, I did the best 
 that I could," replied Lady Sylvester, with great 
 composure, " and what I had I gave you. You 
 have my fortune, such as it was ! and my discre- 
 tion, and my skill, are likewise at your command 
 if you so desire. What can you expect more 
 than I have provided for you ? Mercedes is 
 beautiful, young, rich, amiable, generous, affec- 
 tionate." 
 
 " Mother," said Arundel, interrupting her, and 
 drawing himself up haughtily, " how can the blood 
 that flows in your veins and mine, brook an alliance 
 with a citizen's daughter ?" 
 
 " This is a suggestion of Mrs. Annesly March- 
 mont's," replied Lady Sylvester colouring with 
 anger. 
 
 " If you remember," returned Arundel, drily, 
 "it is an objection that I urged even before I left 
 England." 
 
 "One that I have heard you mention, I allow, 
 but never urge until now. Nevertheless, if it be 
 insuperable, I have no more to say. Make your 
 own decision ; but let a decision be made. I will 
 not continue to lay a thousand plans to submit to
 
 CONSTANCY. 93 
 
 a thousand annoyances; to administer daily food 
 and flattery to the foUy and vanity of such a child 
 as this girl is, if you, by your indolence, ill- 
 humour, caprice, or for some secret design of your 
 own," and Lady Sylvester's eyes flashed with 
 anger, "undo all that I effect, and render void 
 those means which, aided merely by passive acqui- 
 escence on your part, could not fail to answer my 
 purpose." 
 
 "Nay mother," replied Arundel, with a sneer, 
 "if all these exertions enable you only to spend 
 Miss Ratcliffe's money with impunity, as you have 
 hitherto done, I think you might . consider them 
 sufficiently recompensed." 
 
 " Let this most odious conversation cease !" ex- 
 claimed his mother, rising angrily, as if to depart. 
 " I only desire to know wliether you will or will not 
 accompany us to Tivoli, in order then to deter- 
 mine what my future line of conduct shall be," 
 
 " Dear mother, you must stay with me a little 
 longer," cried Arundel, suddenly changing his 
 manner from one of provoking impertinence to 
 one of playful fondness. " It is dangerous to 
 leave me to myself, for — 
 
 Wayward, fickle is my mood. 
 Hovering betwixt bad and good ; 
 
 and besides, I want to explain to you how and why 
 it is quite impossible for me to accompany you to 
 Tivoli on Thui'sday."
 
 94 CONSTANCY. 
 
 " And why impossible ? " interrupted Lady 
 Sylvester with astonishment. 
 
 " I have an engagement for that day which I 
 cannot, with any decent show of civility, neglect 
 to keep." 
 
 " This cannot be true, Arundel ; you proposed 
 Thursday yourself only yesterday, and, in conse- 
 quence of your so doing, Mercedes and I invited 
 several persons to join our party ; and you cannot 
 now refuse to go with us. This is too daring a 
 solecism for even you to be guilty of Act thus, 
 and I will never make an effort in your favour with 
 Mercedes again. I will not see myself and her 
 so grossly insulted." 
 
 " Your anger pains me, really. Nevertheless, 
 I cannot accompany you as you desire." 
 
 " What ! Mrs. Annesly Marchmont has sent to 
 command your attendance on that day ? You 
 have just destroyed a note from her. I saw you 
 do so." 
 
 " The truth is, that I have long been engaged 
 to go with her to Frescati, and now she writes to 
 tell me that she has fixed her party for Thursday. 
 Why will not another day do for you ?" 
 
 " Really !" exclaimed Lady Sylvester, " this in- 
 solence is not to be endured. Am I to be her 
 slave, as well as you ? Begone, Sir, or let me 
 go," and she walked towards the door, her beauti- 
 ful features so disfigured by the angry passions 
 which Arundel's conduct and remarks excited, that, 
 had Mercedes then beheld her, she would have re-
 
 CONSTANCY. 95 
 
 garded with dismay and horror the woman whom 
 she had accepted as a friend. Lady Sylvester 
 paused almost imperceptibly before she left the 
 room, expecting that Arundel, thus urged, would 
 say something to prevent her departure. He, how- 
 ever, did not move from the sofa on which he had 
 flung himself, nor did his countenance relax from 
 its air of sulky defiance. Lady Sylvester opened 
 the door, and closed it impatiently after her. 
 
 A few minutes afterwards, Arundel sprang up, 
 and glancing at the clock, exclaiming, " She will 
 be gone, I vow" — snatched up his hat, ran down 
 the stairs, and was speedily in the boudoir of Mrs. 
 Annesly Marchmont.
 
 96 CONSTANCY. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Lasso! che desiando 
 Vo quel ch' esser non puote in alcun modo, 
 E vivo di desir fuor di speranza. 
 
 PETRARCA. 
 
 Est- on juste sans etre sensible, surtout en matiere de 
 bienfaits ? 
 
 After this angry contest with her son, Lady 
 Sylvester continued her operations, with respect to 
 her projected party, without receiving any further 
 open opposition from him. She was forced to re- 
 main ignorant of his proceedings, but was disposed 
 to augur well from his silence. She believed that 
 he had submitted to her desires, though with so 
 much displeasure and repugnance, that, in revenge, 
 he would not afford her the satisfaction of know- 
 ing that she had conquered, until he could no 
 longer conceal it from her. 
 
 On the evening of the following day, their pre- 
 sence was requested at a festa di hallo, given by 
 
 the Ambassadress. Mercedes entered the room 
 
 leaning on Wentworth's arm, and his mother was 
 tolerably satisfied when she saw him conduct her 
 to dance. While Mercedes was thus engaged she 
 perceived Julian, who had entered later, stationed 
 not far from her. His eyes were directed towards 
 her; and the moment that she met them, she
 
 CONSTANCY. 97 
 
 recognised him with a smile that summoned 
 him to her side. She said, as he took the hand 
 she extended to him, as he approached : 
 
 "We have made a party to go to Tivoli to- 
 morrow, and you must come with us. How long 
 it is since we have seen you. Where have you 
 been ? Very busily employed ?" 
 
 The progress of the dance prevented her from 
 waiting for his answer ; but when returned to her 
 place, she asked for his reply. 
 
 " You will come with us ?" she said. 
 
 During the short interval intervening between her 
 first utterance of the wish and its earnest reiteration, 
 Julian had remembered that it was really out of his 
 power to accede to Miss Ratcliffe's request. He 
 ought certainly to have rejoiced that accident thus 
 aided him to keep the firm resolve he had made to 
 avoid her dangerous presence (a resolve lately made, 
 and put into practice) ; but there was more of regret 
 than of joy in the tone of his voice as he replied. Per- 
 haps this was out of deference to the conventional 
 forms of good-breeding, which usually demand an ex- 
 pression of a feeling quite contrary to the real one of 
 the breast. No, it was impossible. Julian was going 
 to pack a picture and to send it to England. He 
 could not neglect the opportunity afforded him of 
 doing so, and it was one that would admit of no delay. 
 
 Mercedes looked disappointed, and she said that 
 she was so ; when, much to her surprise, and much 
 more to Julian's, Mr. Wentworth, with an air of the 
 utmost kindness and good nature, exclaimed : 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 CONSTANCY. 
 
 "Why not go to Tivoli the next day? If 
 Wilmot cannot postpone his business, we can post- 
 pone our excursion. If you wish Wilmot to 
 accompany us, you must by your commands defer 
 the departure of his picture, or ours. Which will 
 be most easy ?" 
 
 Julian envied him too much the bright look of 
 gratitude which this suggestion procured to acknow- 
 ledge any towards him himself; he only pointed out 
 the utter impropriety of such a proceeding. Mer- 
 cedes paused thoughtfully ; then, after a moment's 
 silence, she turned again to Arundel and said : 
 
 " Do you think it would annoy Lady Sylvester 
 to propose this plan to her ?" 
 
 Wentworth, eager beyond all things to regain 
 his liberty, and believing it now to be in his power 
 to do so, assured her that it was ridiculous to sup- 
 pose that it could make any difference to his 
 mother, which day they fixed on. 
 
 " The party is yours," he exclaimed. " Come, 
 the dance is over ; come and arrange it with her," 
 and he led her away, leaving Julian lost in utter 
 astonishment. 
 
 When they reached Lady Sylvester, Mercedes, 
 still leaning on Arundel's arm, raised her eyes to 
 her friend's face, and with the utmost simplicity, 
 told her request. Lady Sylvester, guessing at once 
 the author of this proposition, directed a glance of 
 fiery indignation towards her graceless son, by 
 which however he was unharmed, for he had 
 turned away his head to speak to some one near,
 
 CONSTANCY. 99 
 
 and would not look at her. Though it failed 
 to reach him, it did not fall wholly without 
 effect to the ground. Lord Sylvester was beside 
 them, and catching this look, felt his curiosity not 
 a little excited by these proceedings, and deter- 
 mined to solve the mysteries which seemed to 
 exist. He soon perceived that Lady Sylvester's 
 anger was not to be any further indulged at pre- 
 sent. Perhaps it was that her Ladyship felt unau- 
 thorized to exert much control, as she allowed the 
 whole expenses of the day to be defrayed by Mer-» 
 cedes' purse; an arrangement with which Lord 
 Sylvester was not acquainted. She expressed some 
 annoyance, and some disapprobation, but still in 
 gentle terms, and asked the cause of her capricious 
 movements. 
 
 " Oh!" said Mercedes, "it is not caprice. I 
 wished Mr. Wilmot to go with us," turning to 
 Lord Sylvester, as if here she expected his support ; 
 " and he cannot. And the very reason that keeps 
 him here, makes me wish to remain also ; for he 
 has finished a picture, and is going to send it off 
 to England to his father to-morrow, and we have 
 never seen it. We might easily do so in the 
 morning before he packs it, if we don't go to 
 Tivoli. So now you know all my reasons; and, 
 dearest Lady Sylvester, may I make such arrange- 
 ments as I wish ?" 
 
 These words extorted an assent from Lady Syl- 
 vester's lips which Mercedes could scarcely wait to 
 hear, as she was entreated to return to the ball- 
 
 F 2
 
 100 CONSTANCY. 
 
 room by a partner who, during this discussion, had 
 vainly urged his claims. She looked around for 
 Julian, from whom she desired to obtain his per- 
 mission to visit his studio. At length, she per- 
 ceived him engaged in conversation with Lord Syl- 
 vester, and in spite of her companion's complaints 
 that the dance was already nearly over, she bent 
 their course imperceptibly towards them ; and then 
 stopping, said to Julian as she passed : 
 
 " We are not going to-morrow, and I intend to 
 come to see your picture. It is very strange that 
 you should not have invited us to do so. May we 
 come ?" 
 
 She moved on as she spoke, and the young 
 painter, on recovering from the joyful surprise which 
 her words had excited in him, observed that Lord 
 Sylvester had fixed his eyes on him with an ex- 
 pression of the closest scrutiny. Mercedes, on 
 returning to Lady Sylvester, found her more evi- 
 dently displeased than when she left her. At no 
 very great distance from them was Mrs. Annesly 
 Marchmont, and at her side, Arundel Wentworth. 
 He w^ould undoubtedly have gladly removed to 
 some part of the room in which he would have 
 been out of the reach of their eyes ; but probably 
 the lady despised any victory without a public tri- 
 umph, and chose to station herself where his 
 homage should be displayed, especially to those 
 wdiom it was designed to mortify. At this sight 
 Lady Sylvester was so angry that she almost for- 
 got to be prudent, and could with difficulty refrain
 
 CONSTANCY. 1 1 
 
 from pointing out to the artless girl beside her, the 
 unworthy by-play in which she had been made to 
 act a part, and to unveil to her the treachery which 
 she had herself enabled her false lover to practice. 
 It vvas, therefore, a relief to her when Lord Syl- 
 vester, reminding Mercedes of a promise to dance 
 with him, led her away, and thus put it out of her 
 power to give utterance to the indignation she felt. 
 Mercedes perceived that Lord Sylvester looked 
 more than commonly serious, and seemed even 
 more than usually disposed to silence. As they 
 walked on without speaking, she exclaimed : 
 
 *' Oh ! there is Mr. Wilmot going to leave the 
 room. I hope that you have made him promise to 
 show us his picture ?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Lord Sylvester. " He asked me 
 to tell you that you might see it any time before 
 noon." 
 
 " And you will accompany us, will you not ?" 
 
 " Certainly ; I wish very much to see it. I have 
 no doubt that we shall admire it." 
 
 " I think that my changes in our projects ought 
 to please every one." 
 
 " They ought to please Mr. Wilmot, certainly ; 
 for to him they are very complimentary. Did they 
 please my brother ?" asked Lord Sylvester, drily. 
 
 Mercedes looked rather surprised, and not quite 
 pleased, and then answered : 
 
 " Yes, of course they did. It was his original 
 proposal, not mine. In short," she added impa- 
 tiently, " every body is pleased but you, I believe.
 
 102 CONSTANCY. 
 
 You, I confess, do not appear to be so ; and yet 
 you are the very person who I imagined would 
 best like what I had planned. Really you are very 
 whimsical, which I never before discovered." 
 
 Lord Sylvester smiled. He was now consider- 
 ably enlightened with regard to the mystery which 
 occupied his attention. He continued : 
 
 " So Arundel proposed it, did he ? Since when 
 has his passion for the fine arts acquired so much 
 strength ?" 
 
 " I think he did so to oblige me," replied Mer- 
 cedes in a low voice, a little piqued. 
 
 Lord Sylvester smiled again; but though he 
 was amused, he was both sorry and angry. Went- 
 worth seemed at last roused by his mother's looks, 
 or the reproaches of his conscience, or fears of the 
 consequences, to break through the thraldom in 
 which Mrs. Annesly Marchmont held him, and 
 returning to Mercedes left her no more. Mrs. 
 Annesly Marchmont rose to quit the room ; and 
 in doing so, purposely passed close to where they 
 were standing. In a voice of the utmost sweet- 
 ness, at the same time fixing her large blue eyes, 
 with a stare of cold impertinence on Mercedes' face, 
 she murmured : 
 
 " Good night, Mr. Wentworth. Don't forget 
 to-morrow " 
 
 Lady Sylvester bit her lip, colouring with anger ; 
 but Mercedes very quietly raised her eyes to Arun- 
 del as the lady moved on, and said : 
 
 " What does she mean ? Have you engaged
 
 CONSTANCY. 1 03 
 
 yourself for to-morrow? I thought you were 
 coming with us to see Mr. Wilmot's pictures." 
 
 " And so T am," returned Arundel with every 
 appearance of frankness. " What o'clock do you 
 go ? Early, I suppose ?" 
 
 " Yes, half past ten." 
 
 " I shall not forget," replied Arundel, in a tone 
 of much devotion; while his brother, who heard 
 the dialogue, turned away with a gesture of im- 
 patience, and something of an air of contempt.
 
 104 CONSTANCY. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Hail, young creative spirit, from whose mind 
 Teeming tumultuously with thoughts and things. 
 The flitting notion with strong power combined 
 Of fixing all those grand imaginings. 
 An intellectual world of wonder springs ! 
 
 The first thought that occurred to Julian the 
 following morning on awaking from feverish and 
 disturbed slumbers was that of the promised visit, 
 and with that idea came a train of recollections 
 and of anticipations. Those resolutions which had 
 cost him struggles, long repeated, and of such bit- 
 terness, now seemed as completely overthrown and 
 destroyed as though they had never been estab- 
 lished. He was again reinstated in his former 
 position, rendered if possible more dangerous by 
 the brief period of absence that had intervened ; 
 and yet what had occurred to shake the founda- 
 tion of his firm resolves, to disprove the wisdom of 
 his determinations, to render them less necessary 
 than when first made ? Conscience briefly an- 
 swered: nothing. He was afraid to interrogate 
 her further, or he would have heard that every cir- 
 cumstance that had contributed to put to flight 
 his wiser purposes, should in truth have tended to 
 strengthen them.
 
 CONSTANCY. 105 
 
 In order to drive away these unpleasant cogita- 
 tions, he began to prepare for the reception of his 
 guests. He placed his picture in the most favour- 
 able light and surveyed it anew, but with dimi- 
 nished satisfaction ; even those parts which he had 
 regarded with most complacency, now excited little 
 pleasure. He became every moment more and 
 more unwilling to submit it to the gaze of Mer- 
 cedes and the scrutiny of Lord Sylvester. He now 
 deemed it wholly unworthy of the attention he had 
 claimed for it, and regretted his decision to send it 
 as a sample of his powers to those who had hailed 
 the early dawnings of his abilities. Even less satis- 
 fied with his present train of thought than with 
 that which had preceded it, Julian permitted his 
 mind to wander back to the occurrences of the past 
 evening. He retraced every accident, fondly re- 
 called every word, smile, and gesture that he had 
 noted ; but was finally disquieted by the remem- 
 brance of the penetrating, observant look which he 
 had encountered from Lord Sylvester's eye, and from 
 which he had shrunk away abashed and alarmed. 
 At this recollection his cheek burnt with shame 
 and vexation ; he execrated his folly and impru- 
 dence, and determined that he would increase his 
 watchfulness over every look, every tone, every ac- 
 tion. Should Lord Sylvester or any of Mercedes' 
 friends discover his secret passion, he knew not 
 whether they would most blame his presumption 
 or despise his weakness. Should he betray it to 
 herself, he could not endure to contemplate the 
 
 F 3
 
 106 CONSTANCY. 
 
 possibility of an occurrence which must wholly 
 banish him from her society, deprive him of the 
 pleasure of ever hearing himself addressed by her 
 in terms of familiar kindness, and even probably 
 render him an object of aversion where he had 
 hitherto been distinguished by peculiar favour. 
 
 While Julian was thus skilfully tormenting him- 
 self, the appointed hour arrived, and with it the 
 appointed guests, consisting of Lady Sylvester, 
 Miss Ratcliffe, and the two brothers. Julian's first 
 observations were, with some anxiety, directed to 
 discover whether the ideas by which he had been 
 so harassed had found any place in their thoughts.* 
 Lord Sylvester had discarded the more than com- 
 mon seriousness which had struck both Julian and 
 Mercedes on the preceding evening ; he seemed to 
 share the lively interest which the latter expressed 
 in the picture they were about to behold, and 
 joined in the reproaches which she bestowed on 
 the painter, in consequence of the intention which 
 she had detected of dispatching it without submit- 
 ting it to their view. Wentworth was full of good 
 humour, and prepared to extend his approba- 
 tion even to Julian. Lady Sylvester alone appeared 
 uninterested and dissatisfied, being disposed to re- 
 gard Wilmot with displeasure, knowing him to be 
 the cause, however innocent, of the defeat which 
 her plans had experienced ; and this disposition 
 towards him was probably strengthened by the 
 consideration that he w^as the protege of Lord Syl- 
 vester, w^hom in her heart she cordiaEy disliked 
 and feared.
 
 CONSTANCY. 107 
 
 Julian proceeded to display the work which was 
 the object of their visit, and led them to the 
 easel on which he had placed his picture. The 
 subject of it was the celebrated view from the 
 Janiculum Hill, and the Oak of Tasso, which no 
 one omits to visit, occupied the foreground. 
 
 " I have chosen," said Julian, " as most likely 
 to please those for v>^hom it is intended, a subject 
 of much local interest. I have wished to re- 
 present not only the beauty of the prospect, which 
 is of itself quite sufficient to attract us to the spot, 
 but also to recall the associations that make it 
 peculiarly hallowed, and to pay a tribute of affec- 
 tion to the unhappy poet, who spent there 
 many of those hours which he wished to de- 
 vote to a solemn preparation for his death, which 
 he knew to be so near. We learn that in the 
 tranquil shelter of these convent walls," pointing to 
 the church of St. Onofrio, which formed one of 
 the objects portrayed, " he became dead to the 
 desire of fame and the love of glory, and almost 
 indifferent to the homage proffered to him. Tardy 
 indeed it was, and inadequate to heal the wounds 
 which past cruelty had so wantonly inflicted ! But I 
 cannot believe that his heart grew insensible to 
 his early love, nor that the fair image of Leonora 
 faded from his memory, nor that the bright colours 
 in which his fancy first painted her became 
 fainter and colder as he approached that land 
 where all earthly distinctions should be levelled, 
 and where the separations occasioned by them 
 should have an end,"
 
 108 CONSTANCY. 
 
 As he spoke, he pointed to the figures which 
 filled the foreground of his picture, in which he 
 had represented Tasso, sleeping heneath the tree 
 which is still called by his name. His wild and 
 haggard features were softened by a radiant expres- 
 sion of hope and joy diffused over his countenance, 
 as if bright dreams blest him ; and to show that 
 they did so indeed, a faint and lovely vision of 
 Leonora floated in the air before him. She w^as 
 there as his guardian angel, and she proffered to 
 him, not the frail and perishable crown with which 
 his friends so eagerly invited him to bind his 
 brow, but one that was immortal and to be worn 
 in heaven. In her countenance there was a tender 
 melancholy, for she had suffered with him ; there 
 was also a holy joy, for she saw that his sorrows 
 were drawing fast to a close. Her attitude was that 
 of earnest entreaty ; for she was bent on winning 
 his ear to hear her message, and his heart to accept 
 the gift she bore. 
 
 Lord Sylvester and Mercedes were both touched 
 by the conception of this picture. This flight of 
 Julian's imagination, and the deep feeling with 
 which he had executed it, charmed them much. 
 It was many minutes before the latter could ex- 
 press the pleasure that she felt ; then fearing that 
 the artist would think her cold and insensible to 
 his merits, she tried to speak and tell him how 
 great was her admiration ; still she found herself 
 , unable to give utterance to her sentiments in words, 
 and it was only the eloquence of her countenance 
 that spoke her meaning to Julian, who read in
 
 CONSTANCY. 109 
 
 the moisture of her dark eye how deeply she felt 
 with him. 
 
 " I owe the idea which you approve," said Julian, 
 after they had looked at his picture for a time, " to a 
 passage that I met with in Ossian, which struck me 
 as beautiful when I read it. I should like to show 
 it to you ; I ought to have it here, for I studied it 
 while I painted." And he looked round the room 
 for the book. When he found it, it opened of itself 
 at the passage he sought, and he placed it in Lord 
 Sylvester's hand, saying : " Pray read it aloud^ 
 though it is only partially applicable." 
 
 " ' On Lena's gloomy heath the voice of music 
 died away. The unconstant blast blew hard ; the 
 high oak shook its leaves around. Of Everallin 
 were my thoughts, when in the light of beauty she 
 came, her blue eyes rolling in tears ; she stood on 
 a cloud before my eyes.' " 
 
 Mercedes remained gazing on the picture while 
 Lord Sylvester read, and when he ceased, she said, 
 after a short pause : 
 
 " I hke the words, but I like your picture better." 
 Julian smiled with pleasure at her remark, and 
 then taking up the book again, he added : 
 
 " There are many passages in this volume which 
 has gone through such reverses of fortune, once 
 extolled as not inferior to Homer, now so despised 
 that few will acknowledge that they can read it 
 with pleasure, which I think would afford subjects 
 of interest to a painter, and that I have been ac- 
 customed to consider as one of the tests of poetry. 
 There really are many descriptions and epithets.
 
 110 CONSTANCY. 
 
 though perhaps too lavishly introduced, that at 
 once suggest a picture, and T should like to show 
 you some sketches by which I have illustrated such 
 images as have struck my imagination." 
 
 " Pray do so," exclaimed Mercedes. " Not that 
 I can he persuaded to read Ossian." 
 
 Julian reached down a portfoKo and opening it, 
 began to look within it for the drawings he had 
 mentioned. It so happened that Lord Sylvester 
 was nearest to him at that moment, and his eyes 
 naturally fell on the leaves that the painter hastily 
 turned over in his search. Whether it was that 
 Julian perceived that they were thus employed, or 
 whether any other cause of embarrassment sud- 
 denly sprung up, but he changed colour and closed 
 the book more quickly than he had opened it ; 
 then turning to another part, he took out the 
 drawings he wished to show them and placed them 
 before them. One was a face young, beautiful, and 
 radiant with joy ; eyes, lips and dimpled cheeks 
 ahke beaming with excess of happiness. Under- 
 neath it was written : " Gladness rose, a light upon 
 her face !" 
 
 Another was a stormy warrior, thus described 
 by the poet : " Wrathful stood Swaran. He rolled 
 his silent eyes. He threw his sword on earth ; his 
 shaggy brows waved dark above his gathered rage." 
 
 " Those ' silent eyes,' " said Lord Sylvester, 
 " which you have made there so anything but silent 
 would do for a representation of the speechless rage 
 of Ajax, when Ulysses met him in Hades." 
 
 As it seemed quite uncertain to Lady Sylvester and
 
 CONSTANCY. Ill 
 
 to Arundel when they should find Mercedes weary 
 of examining the contents of Julian's portfoho, they 
 united in reminding her that it was time to depart. 
 Lord Sylvester also remembering that it was ne- 
 cessary that Julian should dispatch his picture, 
 proposed to leave him to his avocation; as they 
 withdrew, Mercedes cast back one more lingering 
 look, and slowly and silently followed them. Julian 
 was left alone in no very composed state of mind ; 
 and Arundel, the moment that he had seen his 
 mother and Miss Ratcliffe back to the Palazzo, 
 hurried away to join Mrs. Annesly Marchmont and 
 her party.
 
 112 CONSTANCY. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Why, Romeo, art thou mad ? 
 
 Not mad, but bound more than a madman is. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 Ne del volgo mi cal, ne di fortuna, 
 Ne di me molto, ne di cosa vile. 
 
 PETRARCA. 
 
 The morning was one of most serene beauty; 
 the sun had scarcely yet risen, and had not 
 half laid aside its waking glories when Lady Syl- 
 vester and her party issued from the Porta San 
 Lorenzo, and as they left it behind them they 
 turned to gaze back on its ruddy bastions, bur- 
 nished with the glowing rays that beamed on them. 
 
 There were many interesting objects on their 
 road to attract their attention and to furnish them 
 with topics of conversation. But Mercedes always 
 found that she naturally sank into silence whenever 
 she entered on the wide expanse of the desolate 
 Campagna ; when she gazed on the ruins that are 
 scattered over it, the nameless tombs and demo- 
 lished towers, and thought how forgotten are the 
 inmates of the first, and how^ the strength of the 
 latter is laid low, a meditative and melancholy mood 
 would come over her, and disincline her to speak of 
 the present.
 
 CONSTANCY. 1 1 3 
 
 At length they began slowly to mount the ascent 
 that leads to Tivoli ; the road wound gradually up 
 the olive-covered hiU. The grotesque shapes which 
 the twisted stems of these trees assume in old age, 
 their light and silvery foliage, the picturesque groups 
 of peasantry that were to be seen beneath their 
 boughs, young and beautiful women, erect and 
 stately in deportment, bearing with an air of native 
 dignity vessels of classic form on their heads ; their 
 garments almost invariably of blue and red, rich 
 and vivid in their colouring, forcibly reminding the 
 beholder of the figures that adorn the pictures and 
 frescoes of the Italian painters ; their glowing com- 
 plexions and dark and glossy tresses, brilliantly re- 
 lieved by the contrast of the snowy linen folded on 
 their heads ; all these circumstances attracted their 
 observation and greatly enhanced the pleasure with 
 which our wandering compatriots surveyed the lovely 
 scene around them. They hastened through the 
 wretched and dirty town with all possible speed. 
 The gentlemen of the party vainly strove to 
 silence the clamour of the vociferous guides, who 
 flocked about them on every side, and selecting 
 such of their humble description of steeds as they 
 required, ordered them to their proper post. They 
 thence proceeded to view the beautiful temple of 
 Vesta, and descended the narrow and slippery path 
 that leads to the Grotto of Neptune, deafened as 
 they went by the thunders, and overwhelmed by 
 the savage grandeur of the spectacle produced by 
 this turmoil of waters.
 
 114 CONSTANCY. 
 
 And now the party, which was numerous, began 
 to fall in some measure into the order in w^hich the 
 different members of it desired that it should be 
 ranged. Julian stood aloof. In such an assem- 
 blage he knew that it w^as not for him to seek 
 Mercedes' side to proffer the assistance she must 
 need. Arundel, intent on banishing from her mind 
 any suspicions that she might possibly entertain 
 as to the manner in which he had spent the pre- 
 ceding day, sought Miss Ratcliffe with an osten- 
 tatious display of eagerness, and placed himself 
 beside her with an air of decision that was designed 
 to assert a conscious right to that station. Lord 
 Sylvester, who never interfered with his brother's 
 pretensions, whatever he might think of them, 
 quietly took Wilmot's arm, and addressed his con- 
 versation to him as to one whose sentiments and 
 feelings he wished to elicit, and was disposed to 
 hear with attention. The eyes of his chosen com- 
 panion however did not appear to be solely bent 
 on the picturesque beauties of the scene, but fre- 
 quently wandered towards Mercedes, watching 
 every step of her foot, as if fearful of danger, while 
 he seemed striving to catch the words that fell 
 from her lips, though distance rendered her voice 
 scarcely audible. 
 
 At length the party arrived at the artificial pas- 
 sage which has been formed for the river, and 
 which may be entered and traversed by those who 
 deem their heads strong enough to pursue a course 
 unprotected by any barricade, along a pave-
 
 CONSTANCY. 115 
 
 ment, scarcely broad enough to admit of two per- 
 sons walking abreast, in spite of the sensations 
 caused by the sight and sound of the foaming, roar- 
 ing, tumultuous motions of the imprisoned stream 
 beneath, and the feeling as if a crushing weight 
 were insecurely suspended overhead, which is pro- 
 duced by the loudly re-echoing stone vault. Mer- 
 cedes and Arundel entered this passage carelessly 
 and thoughtlessly, intending to issue at the other 
 end. Others would probably have followed their 
 example, but their progress was suddenly arrested. 
 Mercedes had scarcely proceeded twenty yards when 
 her head grew dizzy on beholding the boiling, rush- 
 ing water at her feet ; and bewildered by the rever- 
 beration from the walls that encompassed her, 
 her strength and her senses failed her, and she fell 
 in utter lifelessness from the narrow path on which 
 she stood. Another moment would have seen her 
 engulphed in the rapid stream and lost for ever ; 
 but Arundel caught her as she sank, and hastily 
 retracing his steps, bore her back in safety to light 
 and air. 
 
 If the general consternation and horror excited 
 by this accident were indescribable, what was the 
 violence of the emotion awakened in Julian's heart ! 
 He was at the time fortunately a little removed 
 from the immediate scene of danger, and Lord 
 Sylvester was with him. Scarcely did he begin to 
 comprehend the nature of the occurrence which had 
 taken place, when the anguish of his soul was pic- 
 tured on his wild and ghastly countenance, and
 
 116 CONSTANCY. 
 
 his appearance, even in that moment of confusion, 
 would have quickly attracted observation had not 
 Lord Sylvester, unseen by others, grasped his arm 
 firmly, and said with something of the sternness 
 assumed to awe a madman : 
 
 " Calm yourself; she is safe now. You must 
 control your emotion." 
 
 Julian had self-possession enough to compre- 
 hend his words and obey his injunction. He did 
 not therefore venture to follow him to the spot 
 where Mercedes lay scarcely restored to her senses. 
 From a distance at which he could plainly discern 
 her form stretched on the ground and supported 
 by Lady Sylvester, he continued to gaze anxiously 
 on the group until he saw her rise, and leaning on 
 Wentworth's arm, slowly advance on their onward 
 path. Then passionately clasping his hands, he 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Oh, God ! that she should have been in danger, 
 and that he should have saved her !" 
 
 What was his confusion, when on turning to 
 follow them, he found his progress again arrested 
 by Lord Sylvester, whose grave countenance told 
 that these wild, incautious words had reached his 
 ears and excited his disapprobation ! Julian walked 
 by his side in silent confusion, at a loss how to 
 speak, yet feeling that silence confessed humilia- 
 tion. He had no doubt that his exclamation had 
 been overheard ; that his secret had previously 
 been known to his companion, his speech and ac- 
 tion had declared. He felt that to pass over all
 
 CONSTANCY. 1 1 7 
 
 that had occurred without allusion or explanation, 
 was to betray a guilty shame, an unmanly cowardice; 
 a want of candour, springing from a dread of truth. 
 The place which Lord Sylvester held in Mercedes' 
 friendship, and the kind and generous treatment he 
 had himself experienced from him, rendered Julian 
 far from indifferent to his opinions, and most un- 
 willing to forfeit his esteem. If any thing could 
 retain it after this unfortunate and inadvertent be- 
 trayal of his hitherto carefully concealed passion, it 
 must be a frank avow^al of his weakness; if any 
 thing could render him an object of leniency and 
 compassion, it must be a confession of the anguish 
 which past struggles had cost him. But as reflec- 
 tion realized the fact that secrecy was at an end, 
 hopeless dismay overwhelmed him, and the more 
 plainly he perceived that silence w^as impracticable, 
 the more firmly sealed were his lips. So lost was 
 he in meditating on how he might best address 
 Lord Sylvester that he forgot that he was all the 
 while beside him, and when he w^as the first to 
 speak, started at the sound of his voice as if he 
 had thought himself alone. 
 
 " That I heard the w^ords you uttered, Mr. Wil- 
 raot, and that your secret is in my keeping I need 
 not tell you. That I will keep it truly it is, I hope, 
 equally unnecessary to assure you. But one ques- 
 tion I am desirous to ask before we part to-day. 
 Are you sufficiently disposed to accept of me for a 
 friend to give me the privilege of speaking to you 
 again without reseiTC on this delicate subject ?"
 
 118 CONSTANCY. 
 
 There was so much conciliating kindness in 
 the manner in which Lord Sylvester extended his 
 hand to the painter as he finished speaking, that 
 Julian, who, at the moment when he began to ad- 
 dress him, had felt some emotions of rebeUious 
 pride as he thought how mad his passion would be 
 deemed, and how derogatory to her who w^as the 
 object of it, was now softened, and grasped it 
 without hesitation. 
 
 With an effort to resume that calmness and 
 self-command which he felt to be becoming, he 
 prepared to answer Lord Sylvester ; but suddenly 
 overwhelmed by the contemplation of his situation, 
 he stopped short as he was beginning to speak, 
 and covered his face with his hands. He quickly 
 recovered himself, however, and before Lord Syl- 
 vester could proffer a word of consolation or pity, 
 he exclaimed : 
 
 " I have had cause enough already to blush for 
 my folly and my boldness, now I must blush for 
 my weakness also. I am little skilled in dissimu- 
 lation, my Lord ; but an honest pride, a self-respect, 
 above all, the deepest veneration for the uncon- 
 scious object of a most presumptuous passion, aU 
 these causes had enabled me to draw a veil over 
 feelings, not indulged, but irrepressible. The un- 
 foreseen ao-itation of a moment has torn this veil 
 rudely aside, and displayed emotions never meant 
 to meet the eye of any human being. Conceal- 
 ment from you is at an end ; the friendly interest 
 which you take in Miss Ratcliffe will probably lead
 
 CONSTANCY. 1 1 9 
 
 you to keep in remembrance the discovery which, so 
 unfortunately for me, you have made. If in this 
 point of view it distress you, dismiss it for ever 
 from your mind, my Lord, nor fear that it will 
 ever be so manifested as to cost Miss Ratcliffe a 
 blush of indignation or perhaps a tear of pity. As 
 for myself, my Lord, I thank you most heartily 
 for the kind feelings your words have expressed ; 
 but here nothing can avail. Of what purpose is 
 counsel to one who confesses himself not amenable 
 to reason? Sympathy is undesired, and impos- 
 sible ; expostulation I fear that I should ill endure. 
 I have no hopes to combat ; I indulge in no delu- 
 sion that ought to be destroyed. If I have awak- 
 ened compassion in you, spare me any further 
 allusion to this subject. For this day's madness, 
 you cannot blame me more severely than I blame 
 myself." 
 
 Julian had spoken at first with tolerable cool- 
 ness ; but as he continued, his agitation became 
 uncontrollable, and Lord Sylvester saw, that how- 
 ever much he might desire to render his friendship 
 of service to the young painter, who appeared to 
 him greatly to need a calm and considerate adviser, 
 this was not the time to force advice upon him. 
 He therefore replied with a tranquillity of manner 
 that assisted to restore Julian to composure : 
 
 " With regard to the occurrences of this day, 
 Mr. Wilmot, do not reproach yourself unneces- 
 sarily. The most indifferent spectator might have 
 displayed nearly as much emotion in such circum-
 
 1 20 CONSTANCY. 
 
 stances ; and as to the words you uttered, I be- 
 lieve that they reached no ears but mine, and to 
 me they conveyed nothing absolutely new." 
 
 Julian regarded him with surprise, and increased 
 dismay. 
 
 *' Good God !" said he stopping short, and 
 speaking in a voice of the deepest distress, " is 
 this possible ? Have I more than once betrayed 
 what I deemed so impenetrably secret ?" 
 
 His voice failed him. Lord Sylvester, much 
 touched, laid his hand on his arm, and said kindly : 
 
 " Your alarm need not be heightened by my 
 words. I will tell you all I know ; and first, I 
 learnt this secret only when I was with you yes- 
 terday." 
 
 Julian changed colour, and replied : 
 
 " When you were with me yesterday there were 
 also present those from whom it is most important 
 to conceal the state of my feelings." 
 
 " But," answered Lord Sylvester, ^' I have no 
 reason to believe that they shared in my discovery. 
 You told me yourself all that I learnt ; but I did 
 not observe that you made the same communica- 
 tion to them." 
 
 " What can you mean ?" asked Julian. " Spare 
 me this raillery, if such it be." 
 
 " Do you remember," continued Lord Sylvester, 
 " that you opened a certain portfolio while I was 
 standing near you ?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Julian, with confusion. 
 
 '' Perhaps you had forgotten the contents of it, 
 
 I
 
 CONSTANCY. 1 *2 1 
 
 or you would have done so less unguardedly. My 
 eye glanced over its leaves without restraint, for, at 
 that time, 1 was not thinking of secrets. In short, 
 I saw there more than one sketch of Miss Ratcliffe. 
 Even that observation would not have opened my 
 eyes, for her beauty might well impress itself on 
 the memory of a painter ; but there was something 
 in the rapid glance you bestowed on them, and in 
 the emotion, even greater than the embarrassment, 
 which the sight of them occasioned in you, that 
 excited a suspicion in my mind, which, once awak- 
 ened, was quickly corroborated and strengthened 
 by the recollection of things past, and a closer 
 obsen^ation of things present. You see what you 
 have to guard against. If a suspicion be once 
 aroused, there will be other eyes upon you that 
 will watch you more narrowly than mine, and 
 whose jealous glances will magnify all they discern, 
 or fancy that they discern. Miss Ratcliffe's friends 
 may also think it incumbent on them to w^arn 
 her against her present unguarded expression 
 of kindness and interest, on every occasion that 
 interests you — " 
 
 " For heaven's sake, my Lord !" exclaimed Ju- 
 lian, " allow me to stop you. You are mistaking 
 me indeed. Do not suppose me mad enough to 
 act so as to incur such observations and provoke 
 such treatment. Nothing short of so unwonted and 
 so horrible an occurrence as that of to-day could 
 bereave me of self-command. Never will I distress 
 Miss Ratcliffe by the betrayal of my feelings, nor 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 1 22 CONSTANCY. 
 
 am I so wholly destitute of self-respect as thus to 
 expose myself to scorn and reprehension. But I 
 am far from allowing that the most high-born of 
 her suitors has a right to banish me from her 
 presence. I, like him, may bask in the sunshine of 
 her smiles. Fortune has formed a link between 
 us by which I am authorized to seek her side, and 
 none shall dispute my privilege to serve her." 
 
 Lord Sylvester did not make an immediate re- 
 ply to this vehement declaration. After they had 
 proceeded a few yards, he said deliberately : 
 
 " But as you do not appear, Mr. Wilmot, to 
 consider yourself entitled to declare your passion 
 openly, let me at least ask why you should de- 
 sire thus to cherish it secretly ? Would there not 
 be superior wisdom in forsaking society so baneful 
 to your happiness?" 
 
 " No," repHed Julian impetuously ; " it is true 
 that I would perish rather than disclose my feel- 
 ings at this moment. Nevertheless, I entertain no 
 intention of discarding them, were such a proceed- 
 ing possible, which it is not. My homage may 
 not always be contemptible. I have not begun 
 my career so inauspiciously, but that I may look 
 forward to a time when fame shall attend on the 
 name that is linked with mine in the memories 
 of those to whom I shall make myself known." 
 
 " And for such an idle dream," interrupted Lord 
 Sylvester, " are you, indeed, willing to sacrifice all 
 the peace and happiness of your present life ? Sup- 
 posing that your works finally procure you an
 
 CONSTANCY. 123 
 
 undying fame, which I grant they may, will that 
 place Mercedes in your reach, even if, long before 
 that time, she is not torn from you by some one 
 possessed of the present tangible advantages of 
 rank and w^ealth ?" 
 
 " Your arguments are true," replied JuHan with 
 deep emotion. " Nor is it such happiness that I 
 seek or demand. Still believe me that if in order 
 to be happy it be necessary to obliterate her image 
 from my heart, I would refuse to be so. As little 
 would I purchase repose by relinquishing my love, 
 as a soldier would purchase safety by dishonour." 
 
 " I can scarcely prolong this conversation now," 
 said Lord Sylvester, drily, " otherwise, it would not 
 be difficult to prove that an adherence to duty in 
 defiance of danger, has not much affinity with the 
 obstinate indulgence of a passion that receives no 
 sanction from reason. If you remember how 
 much I am your senior in years, my opinions may 
 weigh something with you, and, believe me, when 
 you wish to consult them, you shall find me ready to 
 communicate them ; but let us not pursue this sub- 
 ject now." With these words, uttered with decision 
 but without severity, Lord Sylvester quitted his young 
 companion, and joined some others of the party ; 
 nor did he again seek to hold any particular conver- 
 sation with him, though his manner, whenever he 
 casually addressed him, was kind and encouraging ; 
 so as not to inspire any dread of having forfeited 
 his friendship, or even incuiTcd his displeasure. 
 
 Mercedes had received a shock in finding herself 
 
 G 2
 
 1 24 CONSTANCY. 
 
 on the brink of sudden death, that overpowered 
 her faculties and rendered her silent and abstracted 
 throughout the day. She was frequently agitated, 
 even to tears, by the solemn reflections that forced 
 their way into her mind, in spite of the distractions 
 arising from the scene around her. Her absent 
 looks confessed that her thoughts were elsewhere; — 
 true, they were with her father. Her imagination 
 pictured him in all the agony of woe which the 
 loss of his child would have occasioned. When 
 her eyes fell on Arundel, who quitted not her side, 
 and she reflected how her life, and her parent's exemp- 
 tion from a grief that would infallibly have shortened 
 his existence, and embittered every lingering hour 
 of it, were owing to his exertions, she felt that 
 he had now a claim to her affection, and her 
 father's gratitude, that forbade denial to any wishes 
 he might entertain. Julian, who did not dare to 
 approach her, knowing that Lord Sylvester's eye 
 was still upon him, fancied he could descry, but 
 too plainly, on her eloquent countenance the 
 ardent sense of obligation that she felt to her 
 preserver. 
 
 The remainder of the day was uneventful. The cus- 
 tomary giro was taken by our party, and the beauties 
 w^hich it presents at every turn were expatiated on ; 
 but as these encomiums were chiefly expressed in the 
 same terms employed by the most commonly used 
 guide books, and all remarks were made with due 
 deference to the decisions of former visitors, we 
 do not think it an indispensable part of our duty 
 to record here the conversation of the day.
 
 CONSTANCY. 125 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 How fine this tyrant 
 
 Can tickle where she wounds ! 
 
 CYMBELINE, 
 
 Yet never could his heart command, though fain, 
 One deep, full wish to be no more in pain. 
 
 COLERIDGE. 
 
 The effects of the alarming accident which 
 had cast a gloom over the vivacity of the party at 
 Tivoli, extended in their influence far beyond that 
 day. Lady Sylvester would have played very 
 false to her character for skill and discernment, 
 had she failed to perceive, or neglected to turn to 
 account, the various emotions which owed their 
 birth, or their development to that event. The 
 expression of the lively gratitude awakened in 
 Mercedes' bosom towards her son, was she saw 
 only restrained by timidity, and she found that 
 even Arundel's heart had been touched by the 
 imminent peril that had menaced a being so young 
 and lovely. He manifested sufficient interest in 
 her recoveiy from the shock she had sustained, 
 to afford his mother an opportunity of pointing 
 it out with the utmost delicacy, art, and caution, 
 as a token of the existence of a sincere love. 
 Nevertheless, Wentworth cooled again so rapidly, 
 as to convince Lady Sylvester that he was still
 
 126 CONSTANCY. 
 
 resolved to remain unshackled by any acknowledged 
 bonds. 
 
 Withheld from open declarations, the only game 
 which she was at liberty to play, was that of re- 
 presenting by artful insinuations, that the ambigui- 
 ties of her son's conduct sprung from compli- 
 cated motives; each of which was demonstrative 
 of his high sense of honour and delicacy of feel- 
 ing, and therefore could only heighten the inte- 
 rest which Mercedes was disposed to feel in him. 
 If he neglected, as he not unfrequently did, when 
 within the sphere of Mrs. Annesly Marchmont's 
 more potent charms, to render her the homage 
 which, at other times, he was the first to pay, 
 Mercedes was led by obscure hints to suppose 
 that his generous spirit revolted from an appear- 
 ance of paying court to wealth ; allusions were 
 indirectly m.ade to the reluctance with which he 
 would ask her hand of her father, lest the great 
 millionnaire should misconstrue the eagerness with 
 which the demand was made ; nor was she suffered 
 to remain in ignorance of the aversion w^hich his 
 own haughty and aristocratic family naturally 
 entertained to such a mesalliance. At times. Lady 
 Sylvester would betray to her, as if involuntarily, 
 the peculiar painfulness and embarrassment of her 
 own situation. Might not Mr. Ratcliffe, idolising 
 as he naturally did his lovely child, believe that she 
 had eagerly sought to grasp so rich a prize for her 
 son, who was but scantily provided for, and possibly 
 suspect her of attempting to gain possession of it 
 by stratagem ? On the other hand, if regardless of
 
 CONSTANCY. 12? 
 
 this insulting misconstruction, she yielded to her 
 fond partiality for her young protegee^ and to her 
 desire to call her daughter — indignant reproach 
 and censure would undoubtedly be lavished on her 
 by her proud relatives, who would conceive them- 
 selves aggrieved by the alliance with a merchant's 
 daughter. 
 
 Now Mercedes had a feeling of dignity that led 
 her to expect something more than toleration from 
 any family into which she should enter. Lady 
 Sylvester, after hazarding this last suggestion, saw 
 that she had raised a spirit of rebellion, and 
 checking herself immediately, abstained from push- 
 ing this part of her preliminary acting far enough 
 to alarm Mercedes' pride. But she could not 
 discontinue all this dissimulation so long as her 
 son was obstinately devoted to Mrs. Annesly 
 Marchmont, and so long as she could not prevail 
 on him to come to her assistance, and take some 
 decided step. It was in vain that she forced him 
 to listen to her harangues, and to assent to the 
 justice of her reasonings ; one glance from Mrs. 
 Annesly Marchmont's blue eye, one word of 
 ridicule from her scornful lip, one trifling act of 
 coquetry performed by one so practised, sufficed to 
 defeat her ; and the hatred that sprung up between 
 these warring politicians was as fierce as it could 
 have been, had a personal rivalry existed between 
 them, while Mercedes, the original, but always 
 passive cause of all this bitterness was not unfi-e- 
 quently absolutely forgotten by both. Mrs. Annesly
 
 128 CONSTANCY. 
 
 Marchmont's imperturbable coolness gave her a 
 decided advantage over her antagonist, who injured 
 herself more than her enemy, by the biting sar- 
 casms and the galling insinuations which she 
 would utter ; to all of which her son listened with 
 alternate anger and indifference, and took refuge 
 from her violence in the society of one who received 
 him with unfailing smiles. 
 
 The veil that was drawn over these subtle 
 transactions was probably in some measure pierced 
 by the discerning eye of Lord Sylvester, but the 
 inexperienced Mercedes was wholly baffled by the 
 skill employed to blind her. She detected none 
 of their arts, nor could she read aright the mystery 
 of which she felt, but did not see the existence. 
 She began to find herself often unhappy, restless, 
 dissatisfied, but without knowing why; and she 
 sought in the society and instructions of Julian, a 
 solace for her uneasiness and an agreeable diversion 
 from unpleasing meditation. 
 
 Could Julian, perceiving her unwillingness to 
 dispense with his services, refuse to render them to 
 her ? Impossible ! After his first involuntary con- 
 fession of his passion to Lord Sylvester, his next 
 encounter with him had been attended with sensa- 
 tions of dread, shame and embarrassment; which 
 were, however, quickly dispelled by the continued 
 courtesy of that nobleman's manner towards him, 
 and the warm interest which he still manifested. 
 Julian, though at first inexpressibly relieved by 
 this conduct, soon began to fear that these demon-
 
 CONSTANCY, 
 
 129 
 
 strations of friendliness might be designed to lead 
 to open admonitions. He, therefore, carefully 
 avoided any private discourse with him, and by 
 the practice of the most rigid control of every 
 word and action that passed in his presence, trusted 
 to impress his kind monitor with a belief that 
 the cool dictates of reason had conquered the first 
 impetuous ardour which he had betrayed ; and that, 
 sensible of the madness of cherishing the hopeless 
 love which he had avowed, he now only sought 
 his patron's daughter with that devoted gratitude 
 which it was scarcely more than his duty to 
 manifest. 
 
 By this guarded demeanour, the young painter 
 succeeded in retaining possession of a post fraught 
 with peril without being molested by remonstrances 
 on the folly of thus facing it. Satisfied with having 
 imposed silence on the only friend he possessed, 
 who knew what counsels he needed and felt sufii- 
 cient interest in him to have proffered them with- 
 out fear of the risk of offending, Julian pursued 
 the dangerous path he had chosen without further 
 interruption. When not at Mercedes' side, she 
 filled his thoughts ; and his fancy was in solitude 
 employed in forming bright visions of the future, 
 such as he had alluded to when speaking with 
 Lord Sylvester, who had cut short his romantic 
 anticipations by reverting to the existing reality. 
 
 G 3
 
 1 30 CONSTANCY. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Perch' io veggio (e mi spiace) 
 
 Che natural mia dote a me non vale, 
 
 Ne mi fa degno d' un si raro sguardo, 
 
 Sforzomi, d' esser tale, 
 
 Qual air alta speranza, si conface, 
 
 Ed al foco gentil ond' io tutt' ardo. 
 
 PETRARCA. 
 
 Amor mi manda quel dolce pensiero. 
 
 PETRARCA. 
 
 Julian was alone, and yet how little alone 
 for he was with his art ; that art which was to 
 mould his life, to direct his actions, for they were 
 all to be in subservience to it — to occupy all of 
 time that should be allotted to him — to be the aim 
 and end of thought and study — to embody his 
 imaginations — to give utterance to his feelings — 
 to bring relief to his swelling heart — to link him 
 not only with his fellow-creatures generally, but 
 especially to unite him in a sacred fraternity with 
 every child of genius, with every heart that can 
 sympathize with the passions he shall portray, 
 with every mind that can comprehend the deep 
 and hidden sentiments he shaE reveal, and grasp 
 the meaning of the tales he shall tell. This was 
 not to be alone. It was to his passion for his art 
 that Julian now owed almost the only happiness
 
 CONSTANCY. 1 3 1 
 
 that he possessed. The exercise of it dispelled 
 the gloom of hours of despondency in which 
 he felt oppressed not only by the general sense 
 that " this world is inferior to the soul," and 
 most unsatisfying ; but more particularly by the 
 dread, inspired by his present hopeless passion, 
 that " his soul during her confinement in this 
 prison of the body, was doomed by fate to undergo 
 a severe penance :" that he had received a capacity 
 to suifer, and not one to enjoy. In such hours 
 he doubted whether happiness be a reality — a 
 substance not a shadow ; doubted whether all past 
 belief in, and anticipation of it had been aught 
 but self-delusions — sweet dreams from which it 
 was bitter to awake ! Then he would rise, and 
 overcoming the repugnance to exertion which he 
 felt stealing over him, numbing his faculties, 
 would approach his easel and begin to paint. 
 He scarcely ever failed to find himself rewarded 
 for an effort, which none but those who have made 
 a similar one will either conceive or appreciate, by 
 tasting an ecstatic delight, increasing till its own 
 strength produced a healthy fatigue, — not a mor- 
 bid languor — that prepared him to enjoy repose. It 
 was like food and nourishment, imparting new 
 life and vigour to a drooping frame. Then came 
 high aspirations, and inquiiies of the silent, se- 
 cret, future; 
 
 What shall I do to be for ever known. 
 And make the age to come my own ?
 
 132 CONSTANCY. 
 
 and an eager panting for the time when he shall 
 be able to give this question a satisfying answer ; 
 when he shall be able to point to the works of his 
 hand, the creations of his mind, and say : there 
 is Immortality ! His heart throbbed — but did he 
 so closely pursue excellence as to despise all that 
 lured him from his onward path ? He was 
 prepared 
 
 To scorn repose and live laborious days ; 
 
 but was he prepared to turn aside from 
 
 All that lay 
 Nets of roses in the way ? 
 
 The form of Mercedes rose before him ; her voice 
 that often called him from sohtude, her gentle 
 mandates that summoned him to her side. The 
 fondest dream in which Julian had ever in- 
 dulged, was the hope that when he had won 
 celebrity, his homage should impart it to her ; 
 that her name should then be enshrined with his, 
 for ever united so closely with it that no lips should 
 pronounce the one, without the heart suggesting 
 that of the other. He resolved that no weak 
 indulgence in the empty pleasures of the present 
 hour, should defer that one for which he looked for 
 his only real happiness on earth. 
 
 While he thus thought of Mercedes as of " a 
 bright particular star," no selfish passion called on 
 her to come down and bless him. He was content 
 to love her in silence and humility, until that time
 
 CONSTANCY. 1 33 
 
 should come when possibly his love would have 
 power to confer that undying honour which rank 
 and wealth have not to give. When do they, 
 unless accompanied by better things, transmit a 
 name to posterity to be reverenced, admired, 
 cherished, and conned over ? High birth, high 
 station, and boundless riches fail to save their 
 possessors from perishing quickly. Daughters of 
 kings, and mothers of monarchs, 
 
 Madri d'imperatori e di gran regi, 
 
 have passed away, and their names are unrecorded. 
 Beauty has indeed often enjoyed a fame that has 
 been handed down to far- distant posterity ; but it 
 was because it had found a place in the verse of 
 the poet, or on the canvass of the painter. Yes ! 
 it is the poet's love, the painter's worship, that lend 
 it a charm that defies time and decay. 
 
 How many women as fair, as gracious, and as 
 pure as Laura ; how many as full of majesty 
 and dignity as Beatrice ; how many as high-born 
 and beautiful as Leonora, have passed away and 
 their place knoweth them not ; because no Petrarch, 
 no Dante, no Tasso, had loved them ! And if " a 
 poet's love is lovely," Julian would not consent to 
 deem that of a painter less so. 
 
 While he painted, these quickly thronging 
 thoughts would vaguely fill his mind, half suggest- 
 ing deeper reflections, then suddenly escaping and 
 leaving apparently no trace behind, changing like 
 the bright and lovely visions of cloud-land. He
 
 1 34 CONSTANCY. 
 
 was thus musing rather than thinking, when he was 
 startled from his reverie by a voice behind him — it 
 was that of Lord Sylvester. 
 
 " Miss Ratcliife has sent me to you/' he said, 
 " she wishes to see you ; she has, I believe, a 
 proposition to make; one which I advise you to 
 reject." 
 
 '' Why so, my Lord ?" replied Julian with sur- 
 prise. " I shall be little disposed to do so, unless 
 you give me very cogent reasons for so ungracious 
 a proceeding." 
 
 " I do not know how you will be disposed until 
 I see you put to the test ; but I know very well 
 how you ought to be disposed. If you do not 
 act accordingly, I confess I shall be surprised at 
 the weakness you will display." 
 
 Julian felt a Httle piqued at this declaration on 
 the part of Lord Sylvester. He continued painting 
 in silence for a moment, and then said : 
 
 " Indeed ! If the hne of conduct I ought to 
 pursue is so very evident, the doubt that your 
 Lordship expresses as to my adoption of it is rather 
 derogatory to me." 
 
 "I distrust you much, I own," returned Lord 
 Sylvester. 
 
 " You are candid in avowing your want of con- 
 fidence, my Lord," replied Julian, colouring. 
 
 " I am. Would you wish me to cease to be 
 so? 
 
 " Certainly not," answered Julian, hastily ; and 
 then added : " If you have now sufficiently grati-
 
 CONSTANCY. 135 
 
 fied the passion pour mystifier which I know you 
 to possess, may I ask what this alarming proposi- 
 tion is to he ?" 
 
 "It is useless to ask me ; Miss Ratcliffe exacted 
 a promise of secresy before she despatched me. 
 Go to her, and hear her explanation ; but do not 
 forget my obscure hints which will soon be made 
 intelligible to you. Farewell." 
 
 Lord Sylvester departed, and Julian, abashed by 
 the tone between raillery and serious admonition 
 which he had employed, went to seek Miss Ratcliffe, 
 not knowing what to fear, or to hope, or to expect.
 
 136 CONSTANCY. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 lo dico, e dissi, e diro fin ch' io viva, 
 Che chi si trova in degno laccio preso, 
 Sebben di se vede sua donna schiva, 
 E in tutto avversa al suo desio acceso ; 
 Sebbene amor d'ogni raercede il priva, 
 Poscia che '1 tempo e la fatica ha speso. 
 Pur ch' altamente abbia locato il cuore, 
 Pianger non de', sebben languisce e muore. 
 
 ARIOSTO. 
 
 Mercedes looked up when Julian entered, and 
 rewarded his prompt obedience to her commands 
 by a smiling welcome. Lady Sylvester was writing 
 in a recess at the end of the room, and Mercedes 
 bid him come to the table at which she was seated, 
 saying : — 
 
 " / sent for you, Mr. Wilmot, and now that you 
 are come, you must listen patiently to what I have 
 to say, or rather to read." 
 
 As she spoke, she unlocked a writing desk 
 and drew out a letter, which she unfolded, and 
 read aloud : 
 
 " Do not forget, my dearest child, that you 
 must not leave Rome without the fulfilment of the 
 promise I exacted, that you should bring me back 
 a portrait of your sweet face, of that mild look 
 that brings your mother before me. Select what
 
 CONSTANCY. 13? 
 
 painter you will. I also desire to have a bust of 
 
 you, and let it be executed by . I hear 
 
 that he will not generally undertake portraits; 
 but, perhaps, as we were once acquainted, he will 
 not refuse to do yours. 1 want these two things 
 to adorn my new house, and I have so set my 
 heart upon seeing tliem there, that, whatever else 
 I may do, I shall still think it incomplete until 
 they arrive." 
 
 As Mercedes read these affectionate and partial 
 expressions, tears filled her eyes though she tried 
 to laugh them away, and blushing deeply as she 
 spoke, with an embarrassment which evidently 
 sprang from modesty alone, she said : — 
 
 " And now, Mr. Wilmot, I am going to ask 
 you a great favour. I have never seen you execute 
 a portrait, it is true, but your other works do more 
 than assure you of success in such an attempt. I 
 know that if my picture be the production of 
 your hand, that circumstance alone will render 
 it doubly valuable to my father. In short, may 
 I ask you to undertake it ?" 
 
 She paused and then added hastily : 
 
 " But I see that I have given you pain. You 
 are either displeased or vexed at my proposal. 
 Why so ? Perhaps you think it derogatory to you 
 to undertake a portrait. Forgive a request made in 
 ignorance, and certainly not intended to annoy." 
 
 Julian had, indeed, changed colour when her 
 meaning first broke upon him ; the whole room 
 swam before his eyes; a sudden faintness over-
 
 138 CONSTANCY. 
 
 powered him ; but a sense of the danger he was 
 running — a consciousness that his secret was 
 trembling on his lips — above all, the fear that she 
 would retract, which her last words awakened, 
 recalled him to his senses, and he replied with all 
 the calmness he could resume, and speaking slowly 
 with an effort to hide the tremom' of his voice : 
 
 " Miss Ratcliffe, you do me far too much 
 honour by such a request. Pardon me if a 
 passing sensation of pain overcame me, and im- 
 peded an immediate expression of my sense of 
 the favour you confer. I entreat you not to 
 doubt my desire to dedicate whatever povv^er I 
 may have attained to the service of Mr. Ratcliffe, 
 who has been so generously my patron. Yet 
 allow me a little time for consideration before I 
 promise to commence an undertaking in w^hich I 
 could not fail, without experiencing the greatest 
 mortification and grief." 
 
 Mercedes looked surprised at the tone of anxiety 
 in which the young painter spoke ; and the grati- 
 tude which he evinced when he mentioned her 
 father, touched her visibly ; but summoning a smile 
 to her countenance, she answered quickly : 
 
 " Indeed, we must not enter on this affair with 
 so much solemnity. I have always been told that 
 it is a formidable thing to sit for one's portrait, 
 and I shall certainly find it so, if you begin by 
 being so alarmingly serious." 
 
 Lady Sylvester now came forward, and throwing 
 the letter she had finished on the table, said :
 
 CONSTANCY. 1 39 
 
 " Well, my dear Mercedes, if you and Mr. 
 Wilmot have completed your important arrange- 
 ments, I will order the carriage. Let us drive to 
 the Villa Doria Pamfili. The weather is so 
 enchantingly fine, Mr. Wilmot, will you like to 
 accompany us ? Arundel is gone out riding. 
 Sylvester will be with us, I suppose, and he is 
 always glad to have you." 
 
 Julian cast an involuntary glance at Mercedes, 
 to see whether her countenance seconded this 
 invitation before he replied to it ; but she evidently 
 had not attended to Lady Sylvester's words, and 
 turning from her with a blank feeling of disap- 
 pointment, he muttered something about the im- 
 possibility of spending the rest of the day anywhere 
 but in his studio. As he spoke, Lord Sylvester 
 entered the room, and catching his last words, 
 inquired the subject of discussion. As soon as 
 he heard it, he said to Julian : 
 
 " I tell you what we will do. You and T, 
 Wilmot, will start on foot, and we shall reach the 
 Villa before the ladies will arrive. This plan will 
 be far more conducive to your health than the 
 constant confinement in which you delight ; nor is 
 it right to despise such a gift of nature as this 
 lovely day." 
 
 " Is the riding party large to-day ?" said Mer- 
 cedes, who was leaning from the open window; 
 and she turned her head and fixed her eyes on 
 Lord Sylvester as she asked the question. 
 
 " Very ;" rephed he, " I saw a grand cortege
 
 140 CONSTANCY. 
 
 at Mrs. Annesly Marchmont's door as I passed, 
 and I arrived just in time to see that Arundel was 
 the fortunate man who assisted her to mount." 
 
 Julian saw that Lord Sylvester directed a sig- 
 nificant look towards his mother, as he spoke these 
 concluding words. Without appearing to regard, 
 or even to hear them, she left the room ; and 
 Wilmot, when he looked next at Mercedes, plainly 
 perceived that the colour on her cheek was 
 heightened, and she followed Lady Sylvester with 
 an air of more loftiness than was at all habitual to 
 her. 
 
 Julian was allowed no further time for con- 
 sidering these not insignificant circumstances, 
 for Lord Sylvester taking his arm, led him from 
 the room, and neither of them spoke again, more 
 than a few unimportant words, until they were 
 without the gates. Julian, hitherto, had neither 
 positively believed nor disbelieved the intelligence 
 which Raymond had given him touching the 
 eno-ao-ement of Mercedes' hand. Whenever the 
 unpleasant recollection of his words entered his 
 mind, he strove to banish it by indulging the 
 fond idea that their assertion might easily be false. 
 He had quite as frequently heard from others a 
 similar declaration with regard to Lord Sylvester, 
 and yet as to him, his mind was perfectly at ease. 
 The avowed friendship that existed between him 
 and Mercedes proved that love was unthought of. 
 Besides, it was impossible that Lord Sylvester, 
 professing so much regard for him as he did,
 
 CONSTANCY. 141 
 
 should intentionally conceal from him such a fact. 
 Arundel's frequent absence from their circle had 
 always given him satisfaction, and the idea that 
 Mercedes was on the brink of attaining an insight 
 into the cause of this singular behaviour filled 
 his mind with tumultuous emotions of surprise, 
 hope, and joy. The silence these feelings induced 
 he would probably have maintained throughout 
 their walk, had not the thread of his meditations 
 been broken by Lord Sylvester, w^ho speaking 
 abruptly, said : 
 
 "Well, have you acceded to Miss Ratcliffe's 
 request ?" 
 
 The blood rushed up into Julian's brow and 
 temples, as he felt the scrutinizing eye of his friend 
 fixed on him ; he did not reply for a moment, and 
 then he said with some indignation : 
 
 " Would you have me refuse to make the only 
 return I can make for the favours of my bene- 
 factor?" 
 
 " Then you have accepted her offer ?" continued 
 Lord Sylvester, drily. 
 
 " No," replied Julian with some hesitation, " I 
 have not given her an answer. I do not yet know 
 that I can undertake this task. I fear that I am 
 incompetent to succeed, and to fail here — " 
 
 "Nonsense," interrupted his friend, "you are 
 perfectly equal to success ; but for such success 
 you will have to pay a heavy price." 
 
 " You are mistaken. Your arguments are 
 grounded on false premises, believe me," continued
 
 142 CONSTANCY. 
 
 Julian, with agitation. " The irrevocable past has 
 for ever decided my fate, and the future has lost 
 the power of working a change in me. There is 
 little variability in me. Thoughts that enter my 
 brain remain there ; affections once conceived, 
 possess my heart for ever. It is on this very cha- 
 racteristic of my nature that all my hopes of fiiture 
 success in my art are founded; you look uncon- 
 vinced. You believe that the power of the will is 
 irresistible. I know that such is your opinion. 
 I have heard you say frequently : ' II y a de ces 
 volontes a qui rien ne resiste, parce qu'elles r^sis- 
 tent a tout.' Even so be it ; let me then openly 
 confess that I never can, or shall ivill this change, 
 the necessity of which you urge." 
 
 *' Nay," replied Lord Sylvester, " if you are 
 determined, ' wishing without hope to restlessly 
 despair,' I have, of course, no more to say." 
 Julian kept silent for a time, and then said : 
 " I do not think that where hope was nevTr 
 looked for, despair will intrude. Despair is the 
 successor of disappointment, but I have never 
 been disappointed, nor do I look to be so : all 
 that I ask I deem attainable. My sole desire is to 
 earn fame for myself, which, when mine, I will 
 confer upon her. Meantime, she shall never 
 know that she possesses my homage, until it shall 
 be a gift to be desired. This land of poets and 
 of painters has afforded many instances of what 
 I would accomplish. Leave me to tread in their 
 footsteps."
 
 CONSTANCY. 143 
 
 Lord Sylvester scarcely knew whether he was 
 most inclined to smile or to sigh at his friend's 
 romantic design. He saw, however, that his 
 passion would undouhtedly be a spur to his genius, 
 and this hope disposed him to leniency. Still he 
 would not allow his sophistry to pass uncombated ; 
 so he resumed the conversation, saying : 
 
 " You say that despair supposes the pre-existence 
 of hope. Did Petrarch feel none of the anguish 
 of despair, and yet what did he ever expect or hope?" 
 
 Julian blushed, for he saw that his monitor 
 had a suspicion that in this poet he had discovered 
 the object of his emulation. JuHan did not abso- 
 lutely fear ridicule ; at least his dread of it had no 
 power to make him abandon any design, or modify 
 the expression of any sentiment which he enter- 
 tained ; it could not lessen his candour though it 
 could increase his reserve ; he abhorred it still, and 
 shrank from coming in contact with it. The 
 supposition that he was now on the brink of ex- 
 citing derision silenced him for a moment ; then 
 discarding this sensation of shame, he boldly con- 
 tinued in reply : 
 
 " Petrarch experienced both hope and disap- 
 pointment. He saw Laura, for the first time, in 
 ignorance that she belonged to another. At that 
 instant he felt that they were formed to be united 
 by every band of sympathy and love ; and he did 
 not as yet perceive the barrier that must necessarily 
 separate them, stretching as it did from one end 
 of life to the other. 
 
 Too early seen unknown, and known too late !
 
 144 CONSTANCY. 
 
 Unhappy Petrarch ! he had to learn that he had 
 seen Laura too late. Had they sooner met, she 
 might, she would have loved him ; and he was 
 not without a feeling that with her also this 
 thought, at once so bitter and so sweet, must be 
 present. Laura, like him, must at least have cast 
 back one look on the past, meditating on how it 
 might have been different." 
 
 " This fatal discovery introduced despair into his 
 heart, but it only occasionally reigned there. Other 
 and holier aspirations brought him peace ; perhaps 
 she came in a mournful, but certainly in a serene 
 mood. And can you believe that he would have 
 been willing to re-purchase the tranquillity of 
 indifference, by resigning that subject of con- 
 templation which her virtues afforded him, that 
 theme of inspiration which he derived from her 
 beauty and her excellence ? Can you believe that, 
 if at the close of his hfe he had been asked 
 whether he would rather have enjoyed existence 
 in insensibility to Laura's charms, or suffered it, 
 as he did, with a heart and mind engrossed by 
 them, he would have hesitated in his choice ?" 
 
 " Consider what Petrarch owes to that passion, of 
 which he wanted not friends to represent the 
 madness and the folly. They viewed with pity 
 and regret the shackles which held so noble a 
 spirit in thraldom. What they regarded as the 
 chains which bound him to earth, they should 
 rather have called the pinions which bore him to 
 heaven. It is true that Petrarch was one of the most 
 erudite scholars of his age, the reviver of learning,
 
 CONSTANCY. 145 
 
 favoured by princes, honoured by all the great 
 men, his contemporaries, who had any reputation 
 for taste and knowledge. 
 
 " Ages have past and his reputation stiU lives ; 
 thus the sanguine prognostications of his admiring 
 friends are verified : but on what basis does his 
 fame immoveably rest ? Not on his laborious 
 works of learning and research ; not on that great 
 effort of classic erudition, his Epic poem, which 
 he himself contemplated with so much veneration 
 and dehght ; not on the elegant Latin Epistles with 
 which he charmed the ears of all the scholars of 
 Europe, and in which, I am sorry to add, he poured 
 forth adulation to the great. I have often heard 
 it lamented that justice is not rendered to him, 
 because all these circumstances which I have enume- 
 rated are commonly past over and forgotten. What 
 is it then that is not forgotten ? The spontaneous 
 ebullitions of his intimate feelings ; the true picture 
 of his own heart ; the passionate expression of real 
 grief; the touching confession of natural infirmity. 
 It is when asking for sympathy rather than admi- 
 ration, that he is sure to awaken a responsive echo. 
 Thus will it ever be ! One faithful page from the 
 history of the human heart possesses more interest 
 for our fellow creatures than the most elaborate pro- 
 ductions of art. Believe me, had Petrarch been 
 persuaded to sacrifice his love, he would have for- 
 feited his fame also." 
 
 Julian paused, but he felt that he had more to 
 say, and he saw that his friend was willing to listen. 
 
 VOL I. H
 
 146 CONSTANCY. 
 
 " There is something most ennobling to the 
 soul in all-enduring constancy such as his. Immu- 
 tability is inherent in every thing great. Change 
 may bring with it many advantages, yet as it is 
 change, it is an evil. The heart should carefully 
 guard against the admission of love for it, because 
 it degrades its nature. The gifts it bestows may 
 be valuable, but they are too dearly purchased if 
 they teach us to become wavering and inconsistent. 
 ^ Je tiens la fidelite pour la plus excellente chose 
 de ce monde ; bonne pour autrui — meilleure pour 
 soi.'* This assertion I once read and have never 
 since forgotten. Belief in its truth is graven on 
 my heart." 
 
 Here Julian ceased, and Lord Sylvester for a- 
 while delayed to reply. He saw how little the 
 sober reason of his remarks availed in turning away 
 his friend from his rash pursuit. At length he 
 said: 
 
 "You started with a demonstration that Pe- 
 trach's case and yours were not parallel. Is your 
 conduct then to be similar ? Between Miss Rat- 
 cliffe and you, you acknowledge the existence of 
 an insurmountable barrier ; to you it has been 
 visible from the first : — you say that you have never 
 deluded yourself with the idea that it was to be 
 removed — " 
 
 " No, indeed," interrupted Julian, speaking not 
 without bitterness. ''Wealth and station stand 
 between us. To her it would be esteemed degra- 
 dation to love me, though it shall be esteemed 
 * Peyronnet, Pensees d'un Prisonnier.
 
 CONSTANCY. 147 
 
 no degradation to be loved by me. Not that this 
 formidable barrier will then be levelled : I do not 
 look to earn those gifts of fortune in which my 
 rivals are my superiors ; and even if in time they 
 were mine, she would then probably be another's." 
 
 Lord Sylvester, provoked as well as distressed 
 by the pertinacity with which his friend clung 
 to misery, was proceeding to expostulate further, 
 when the carriage, which was following them, un- 
 expectedly overtook them, and they accepted the 
 invitation which they received to enter it. 
 
 Wilmot could not immediately divest himself of 
 the embarrassment caused by the nature of the 
 conversation, which the appearance of her who was 
 the subject of it had alone suspended ; — how it 
 might otherwise have terminated he knew not. 
 Perhaps his patron might finally have adopted his 
 \dews, and consented to the execution of his pre- 
 sent design without further remonstrance. But 
 Julian knew that his arguments had not yet pro- 
 duced this desired effect, nor was he ignorant that 
 the end of the conversation might possibly have 
 found them estranged from each other perhaps for 
 ever ; that the pertinacity of the one, and the ob- 
 duracy of the other, if declared without disguise, 
 might have rendered any further interchange of 
 friendliness impracticable. The longer he pursued 
 these reflections with candour, the more clearly 
 he perceived that from a prolonged debate, the 
 first result, which would have afforded him so 
 much happiness, was as httle to be expected as the 
 
 H 2
 
 148 CONSTANCY. 
 
 second, which would have given him the severest 
 pain, was greatly to be feared. This perception, 
 though it led him to rejoice in the interruption 
 which had taken place, could not restore him to 
 a tranquil state of mind ; he knew not how to 
 address Mercedes while Lord Sylvester's eye was 
 upon him, and taking refuge in the silence which 
 was too habitual to him, even in their society, to 
 excite surprise, he became so engrossed by his 
 own thoughts as to be deaf to the conversation, 
 which they held. Nor was he roused from this 
 abstraction until their arrival at the Villa recalled 
 him from vague and painful anticipations of the 
 future to a sense of the present. The loveliness 
 of the scene around now demanded and obtained 
 a share of his attention. The young painter's 
 dejection had not been unnoticed by Mercedes, 
 and she strove to win him from it by forcing him 
 to remark with her the different beauties which so 
 delighted her eyes. They paused to gaze back on 
 St. Peter's majestic dome, with the elegant and 
 varied outline of Soracte clearly discernible beyond. 
 Lord and Lady Sylvester had on their entrance 
 met with a party of friends, but Miss Ratcliffe 
 glancing at them, and perceiving that they were 
 strangers to her, showed no disposition to join 
 them; and Juhan found himself walking beside 
 her over the green turf enamelled with anemones 
 of every hue, with violets, iris, and orchis, and 
 countless other bright flowers, which she per- 
 petually stooped to pluck. At length they reached
 
 CONSTANCY. 149 
 
 a grove of pines, between the lofty stenns of 
 which a thousand beautiful vistas caught their 
 eyes. Mercedes needed not to point out to the 
 painter's observation the majesty of their towering 
 forms, the picturesque character of their rough 
 indented bark, the richness of its ruddy colour, 
 the variety of outline caused by the circumstance 
 of the branches so frequently breaking off near 
 the parent stem, and the gorgeous verdure of their 
 noble heads, illuminated as they were by the 
 golden sun of their country. As they walked to 
 and fro in the stately avenues in which the trees 
 were ranged, Mercedes exclaimed : 
 
 "Do you think that Portia's ViUa at Belmont, 
 was such an one as this ? Do you think that it 
 was on such a bank as the one yonder that the moon- 
 light slept so sweetly ? Do you think that it was 
 in an alcove similar to one of those which adorn 
 this garden that she placed the caskets on which 
 her whole fate hung ? And that Venus and Cupid, 
 and all the gods and goddesses, and nymphs, and 
 fauns were standing round, as they are here, to 
 watch the course of her destiny ? Could not you 
 paint a picture of the scene, Mr. Wilmot ? I hope 
 that you feel the same affection for Portia that I 
 feel, and are ready to do her so much honour." 
 
 " Let me first," replied Julian, " have the ad- 
 vantage of a few more hints. How shall I repre- 
 sent Portia, Miss Ratcliffe ? Have you a model 
 for her ? Is she personified in your mind's eye ?"
 
 150 CONSTANCY. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! most distinctly ; and I doubt not 
 that you will be able to find her prototype among 
 her countrywomen. You should seek it not 
 among the pale, stern Romans, but rather among 
 the fair haired Venetians. She must have a coun- 
 tenance full of frankness and ingenuousness ; an 
 expansive brow, smooth and polished as marble, 
 presenting to your mind a lively image of truth 
 and purity. Let her eyes be brilliant and piercing, 
 to denote all the quick discernment of her charac- 
 ter, and yet melting and even pensive, to express 
 its tender sensibility. She should have a short 
 and curling lip, mocking, but not sarcastic; you 
 might just guess as you marked its curve, ' what 
 a deal of scorn' would 'look beautiful' on it, if 
 provoked by the detection of aught that was mean 
 or base. Enough — I will leave you to furnish 
 what else is requisite. I should like to see the 
 carnation tints I so often hear you talk of, mantle 
 on her glowing cheek, and disappear again as 
 rapidly ; but I have abeady told you more than 
 you can express in one moment of time, for," said 
 Mercedes archly, " painting is not poetry !" 
 
 " No," replied Julian, " but your description is. 
 Do not let us lose sight of Portia yet. Your 
 picture has brought her before my eyes with all 
 the vividness of reality. And now I should like 
 to know why you love her so much ?" 
 
 Mercedes paused to consider : 
 
 " How shall I describe exactly why I love her,"
 
 CONSTANCY. 151 
 
 she said. "It is difficult to put our thoughts 
 and feelings into words that convey them clearly 
 to others." 
 
 " It is so," replied Julian. " Is the great charm 
 of Portia's character to be found in her superiority to 
 all petty emotions of jealousy? Many women 
 would have shown a doubt of Bassanio's love, or 
 thought to demonstrate the tenderness of their 
 own, by resenting, or at least lamenting his neces- 
 sary departure at the moment when he had won 
 her. But Portia did neither. Not a thought of 
 self entered her mind. She was so much one 
 with Bassanio, that his friend was her friend ; she 
 experienced the same emotions that he experienced 
 on learning the situation of that friend ; her heart 
 did not merely acquiesce in, but actually suggested 
 the same mode of action, that his heart was im- 
 pelled to suggest, by the violence of the grief and 
 fear that filled it, on the contemplation of the 
 generous Antonio's probable fate. But no sooner 
 is Bassanio departed, than Portia feels that she is 
 separated from part of herself; her thoughts fol- 
 low him ; she pants to rejoin him, and her ready 
 wit soon furnishes her with the method of grati- 
 fying her wish." 
 
 " Oh, she is a noble creature !" exclaimed 
 Mercedes with enthusiasm, " and I see that you 
 know her even better than I do. How much I 
 like to meet with those who love and esteem the 
 same characters, be they real or imaginary, that I 
 love and esteem !" 
 
 Julian made no reply to this exclamation; he
 
 152 CONSTANCY. 
 
 felt the dangerous delight of such sympathy but 
 too deeply. They walked on in silence till Mer- 
 cedes stooped to gather a flower, and as she held 
 it in her hand, she said : 
 
 " Do you remember a beautiful simile in Cole- 
 ridge which he must have written, I think, in 
 such a scene as this : 
 
 Flowers are lovely ; love is flower-like. 
 Friendship is a sheltering tree — 
 
 Does not the combination which one views here, 
 between these flowers, nature's loveliest productions, 
 and the grandeur of these stately trees, strike your 
 imagination, and can you not suppose that it would 
 easily suggest this idea to a poet ?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Julian, " I can, but you had 
 turned my thoughts wholly to Shakspeare, and I 
 w^as meditating on the more melancholy reflection 
 that occurred to poor Imogen, when lying on the 
 green sward, strewn over with such fair and 
 perishable blossoms as these : 
 
 These flowers are like the pleasures of the world." 
 
 " Why then," said Mercedes quickly, " it were 
 better not to pluck them, for in the attempt to 
 grasp them and make them more our own, we 
 but shorten their already too brief existence. 'Tis 
 best to let them bloom and die their natural 
 death ; and you know that though none of them 
 are lasting, still there is a bright succession of 
 them with every season ; and so no period of life 
 is without its enjoyments, agreeable enough to make
 
 CONSTANCY. 153 
 
 existence cheerful, but too fleeting to have power 
 to bind us strongly to it. Then there is winter, 
 almost bereft of charms, which makes us grow 
 willing to resign this world to enter another where 
 there is a ' fairer earth, a fairer sky.' Then 
 
 A calm awaiting seems to be 
 
 O'er leaf and wave. 
 A calm undressing, all so silently, 
 
 For calmness of the grave, 
 Unrepining." * 
 
 Julian listened to her sweet voice with admi- 
 ration. 
 
 " Alas !" he said, " the thoughts suggested to 
 me by that line were far different from your 
 beautiful and healthful ones. I thought of blasted 
 hopes, bitter disappointments, and false friends — " 
 
 Mercedes looked grave and thoughtful as she 
 listened to these words ; then, not without sur- 
 prise, she answered : 
 
 " Yet why should such dispiriting images occur 
 to you more than to me ? You have not yet 
 wrestled with ill-fortune ; why is it that the 
 young and the prosperous are not happy ? Why 
 have they these dark forebodings, when it seems 
 to others that they should bask in sunshine ? We 
 see the shade, but we see not the cloud that 
 casts it. I too experience these feehngs some- 
 times — " 
 
 Mercedes and Julian having reached the end of 
 
 * Thoughts in Past Years. 
 H 3
 
 154 CONSTANCY. 
 
 the path they were following, came at once, before 
 the former had finished speaking, on others of their 
 party who were talking and laughing gaily, and 
 whose lively tones grated discordantly on the ears 
 of both. 
 
 Lady Sylvester effectually cut short the thread 
 of their discourse by calling Mercedes to her, and 
 drawing her arm within hers, continued to walk 
 with her during the rest of the time that they 
 remained in the garden.
 
 CONSTANCY. 155 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Sworn by your command. 
 Which my love makes religion to obey. 
 
 SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Wilmot, I am to consider that you 
 have acceded to my request ?" said Mercedes, as 
 they parted at the close of the day. 
 
 " Undoubtedly," replied Julian, though he knew 
 that Lord Sylvester heard his words : " if you have 
 really determined to honour me so highly; but 
 permit me, Miss Ratchffe, to beg that you will 
 reconsider the subject, and that if you change 
 your mind, you will forget, without hesitation or 
 scruple, whatever you have said to me, and employ 
 any other painter you may deem better quahfied to 
 give you satisfaction." 
 
 " Oh ! I am sure that I shall not change my 
 mind. I am sure that my father will like a picture 
 of yours better than one by any other painter." 
 
 Julian drew a little nearer and said in a lower 
 voice : 
 
 *' Of course, Miss Ratcliffe, you will not decide 
 without consulting with your friends ; Lord Sylves- 
 ter, for instance, surely you will seek his opinion ?" 
 
 " Oh ! he admires your works so much. It is 
 pretended modesty in you to affect to be ignorant 
 of that."
 
 156 CONSTANCY. 
 
 " But," continued Julian, who saw that Lord 
 Sylvester was now out of hearing, " did he recom- 
 mend me in this instance ? Did he suggest the 
 idea of applying to me ?" 
 
 Mercedes paused before she answered ; she 
 feared that her words might mortify the young 
 painter, or even induce him to recede ; but her 
 candour forbid her to withhold any part of the 
 truth, and she said : 
 
 " No, he did not. The idea was certainly my 
 own; Lady Sylvester agreed with it, and when 
 we mentioned it to him, he said nothing, but 
 when I asked him if he could name any reason for 
 preferring any other painter, he did not do so." 
 
 Mercedes' embarrassment was scarcely heeded 
 by Julian, whose mind was engrossed by the con- 
 flict between his own strong inclination, and the 
 unwillingness that he felt to act contrary to the 
 opinion of his friend. His desire to ascertain how 
 far his patron's disapprobation of this design had 
 led him, and how far he had declared it to Mer- 
 cedes had been irresistible. Having effected this, 
 with some secret misgivings and self-reproach, he 
 departed, but he did not retract his consent. 
 
 Scarcely had a day elapsed before Mercedes 
 sent to ask him when he would put his promise 
 into execution ; and this time she employed a 
 very unacceptable messenger, Arundel Wentworth. 
 Julian was not without a suspicion that Lord Syl- 
 vester had refused to be the bearer of her inquiry ; 
 he had not seen him in the interval, and he felt 
 guilty of having incurred his displeasure. This
 
 CONSTANCY. 157 
 
 feeling of annoyance rendered him still less in- 
 clined than usual to conceal his dislike of the un- 
 ceremonious manner in which Wentworth com- 
 monly addressed him. He replied to his inquiries 
 briefly, saying that he would call on Miss Ratclifl*e 
 himself 
 
 " Has Lady Sylvester any engagement that 
 would prevent my admission if I come at eight 
 o'clock this evening ? I could bring with me a 
 few designs that I have made, and might perhaps 
 be honoured with the opinions of Miss Ratclifl*e's 
 friends before I commence the picture." 
 
 Arundel replied carelessly that he could not 
 answer for his mother's engagements, but that he 
 would say that he was coming, and if they could 
 not receive him, he supposed that they would send 
 him a message before the evening. So saying he 
 quitted the room. 
 
 Julian returned to the work on which he had 
 been employed before he entered, and which he 
 had put out of sight as soon as he had heard 
 Wentworth's voice. It was a design for Mercedes' 
 portrait, in which he had not yet afforded himself 
 any satisfaction. He possessed a remarkable 
 facility in drawing from memory, and often, on 
 his return home, would sketch any face which had 
 attracted his attention. We have said that he 
 had already done many such remembrances 
 of that beauty which was the * tyrant spirit of 
 his thought.' He had never contemplated the 
 countenance of Mercedes, when in repose, without
 
 158 CONSTANCY. 
 
 thinking that in it he beheld a personification of 
 all that combined dignity, peace, and tenderness, by 
 
 Painters given 
 Unto their virgin Queen of Heaven. 
 
 Peace, indeed, was the characteristic of it. Her 
 eyes were of the deepest blue; her skin of the 
 most transparent fairness ; but her hair, instead of 
 beino- of that pale gold which Raphael usually 
 gives to his Madonnas, was of the darkest, richest 
 chestnut; and her eyebrows, of which they are 
 almost wholly destitute, were dark though most 
 delicately delineated. He felt that no painter 
 could hope to portray the bland sweetness and be- 
 witching animation of her frequent smile, and it 
 was rather a moment of tranquiUity, or even pen- 
 sive thoughtfulness, that he determined to select. 
 
 Wearied at length, though still unsatisfied, he 
 snatched up his hat, and mounted the Pincian hill 
 to breathe the fresh air, and to see the sun depart 
 in glory. 
 
 He was very desirous to find Lord Sylvester, 
 thouo-h inwardly half-ashamed to meet him, and 
 not venturing to go in search of him. He was 
 still determined to persist in his first assertion that 
 the course he was preparing to follow by no 
 means aggravated his danger ; that the Rubicon 
 having been long since past, it was now imma- 
 terial to him to show the better part of valour. 
 As fate would have it, the first person he met was 
 Lord Sylvester, but he was walking with some
 
 CONSTANCY. 159 
 
 brother lords, and Julian thought that he greeted 
 him coldly ; he did not for a moment suppose that 
 this circumstance was the occasion of his so doing. 
 Lord Sylvester had too much real dignity to sup- 
 pose that a peer could degrade himself by a be- 
 coming condescension to a painter. Julian felt 
 that he was angry, and he walked sorrowfully on, 
 half penitent and half obdurate, and leaning over 
 the balustrade, gazed down on the busy Piazza 
 below, where men look like ants running to 
 and fro on an ant-hill, and speedily forgot where 
 he was. He had not long indulged this reverie, 
 when some one roused him from it by touching 
 his arm. Looking up he saw Raymond beside 
 him. This sight did not dispose him to be better 
 pleased, for he had lately conceived an aversion to 
 this man, whom, when first he came to Rome, he 
 had allowed to be his companion. His loquacity 
 had become wearisome, and he had more than once 
 taken upon himself to rally Julian on a change in 
 his spirits ; he had, however, too much tact to 
 continue a subject which he saw to be unpleasing, 
 and therefore soon abstained from repeating this 
 offence. He had an extraordinary faculty of dis- 
 covering every body's secrets, of knowing what 
 was passing in the interieur of every one's family, 
 and of being perfectly informed of the particulars 
 of every occurrence before they were generally 
 known. Now all these accomplishments made him 
 only exceedingly disagreeable to JuHan, though 
 they constituted him a favourite with the world at
 
 1 60 CONSTANCY. 
 
 large. He was, however, a man of unruffled good 
 humour, and not easily discouraged in his attempts 
 to gain the confidence of any he attached himself 
 to ; so without noticing Julian's face of repug- 
 nance, he passed his arm through his, and in- 
 sisted that he should make the giro of the hill 
 with him. 
 
 "What a lucky fellow you are, Wilmot," he 
 began, " every thing falls to you. Why here are 
 you who never executed a portrait in your life, 
 selected by the very queen of beauty, selon moi ; 
 and I, who fag every day at producing dimples 
 where there are only wrinkles to be discovered, and 
 paint roses where none ever bloomed, the soil not 
 being adapted to their growth, am passed over and 
 neglected. Now confess that I am very generous 
 in forgiving you this piece of good luck." 
 
 Julian coloured with vexation and surprise, and 
 then inquired where Raymond had obtained his 
 information. His companion stared at the tone of 
 his interrogation, and replied : 
 
 " Why, do you suppose that Miss Ratcliffe 
 makes a profound secret of the honour she has 
 conferred ?" 
 
 Julian saw the absurdity of his question, and 
 again felt embarrassed. 
 
 " I only wish that she would do so," he re- 
 turned, " until the picture be completed. It would 
 prevent the utterance of many impertinent remarks." 
 
 " What sort of impertinent remarks do you 
 mean ? Impertinent to the artist and his work ?
 
 CONSTANCY. 161 
 
 or impertinent to the fair subject ? — Inquiries as 
 to who is to be the happy possessor of the picture 
 when completed ? — ^Whose taste will be most 
 deferentially consulted in its progress ? — Who de- 
 termined the choice of the painter ? — " 
 
 "All that I mean," interrupted Julian impa- 
 tiently, " is, that now I shall be pestered with the 
 visits of aE Miss RatcliiFe's acquaintance, and perse- 
 cuted with unmeaning criticisms and worthless 
 advice." 
 
 " If you are not prepared to meet with such 
 annoyances as these, I advise you not to invade 
 my province ; do not commence portrait painter ?" 
 
 " Can you imagine that such is my intention ?" 
 exclaimed Julian with some contempt, and then 
 checked himself, remembering whom he was ad- 
 dressing. His companion, however, seemed in- 
 sensible of the slight, and replied carelessly : 
 
 " Well, you are certainly right to make an ex- 
 ception in favour of Miss Ratcliife." 
 
 " Her father has acted towards me with the 
 greatest generosity, and I feel bound to make him 
 all the return in my power." 
 
 " Oh 1 it is at his request that you undertake 
 this picture ?" 
 
 Julian made no answer, and Raymond continued: 
 
 " When you have begun it, I shall come to see 
 you. I have at least greater experience in this 
 branch of our art, and may give you some usefid 
 hints." 
 
 Julian's gratitude was but faintly expressed, and
 
 162 CONSTANCY. 
 
 at length Raymond quitted him to join another 
 party, among whom Julian perceived, though he 
 scarcely glanced at them as they past, Mrs. An- 
 nesly Marchmont. This lady had excited Julian's 
 dislike, unmitigated hy admiration of her heauty, 
 and he sedulously kept aloof from her magic circle, 
 without being guilty of the absurd vanity of sup- 
 posing that it v^as remarked by any one in it 
 that he did so. 
 
 He had instituted in his own mind a com- 
 parison between her and Mercedes, in which, in 
 every point, he gave the advantage to her he 
 loved; and while he did so, he still clearly dis- 
 cerned the reasons why the first maintained a more 
 generally acknowledged dominion over society at 
 large. The means which she employed to acquire 
 popularity were of a subtle nature, and such as the 
 " artless and unpractised" mind of Mercedes could 
 not even detect. She lavished unbounded flattery 
 on all whom she addressed, for she rarely addressed 
 any but those whom it was her interest, though 
 perhaps only for the moment to flatter. In order 
 that none might, in consequence of her fair speeches 
 and bland courtesy, presume too much upon her 
 favour, she exercised a haughty caprice, which cast 
 those, who thought they had made most progress 
 in it, into endless doubts and difficulties as to how 
 they were to proceed. The enchantress, Armida, 
 might have learnt more arts from Mrs. Annesly 
 Marchmont, and could scarcely have been gifted 
 with superior beauty to give them efficacy.
 
 CONSTANCY. 163 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 E per piu non poter, fo quant' io posso — 
 
 Ho si avvezza 
 La mente a contemplar sola costei, 
 Ch' altro non vede ; e cio che non h lei, 
 Gia per antica usanza, odia e disprezza. 
 
 PETRARCA. 
 
 In the evening, Julian, not having received any 
 message to the contrary, collected the sketches he 
 had made, and set out to the Palazzo. He felt 
 very anxious to see whether Lord Sylvester would 
 be present or not. " If he know the purpose of 
 my coming," said he to himself, " and refuse to 
 wait for it, I shall learn that his anger is unabated, 
 and that I have lost a friend. And what a friend !" 
 
 Julian walked on in melancholy abstraction; then 
 he inwardly exclaimed : '* Yet what would he have 
 me do? How could I refuse such a request? 
 He frequently reproaches me with the folly of my 
 passion, yet what can be weaker than the conduct 
 which, in this instance, he prescribes? Shall I 
 neglect an obvious duty — that of paying the debt 
 of gratitude — from the selfish fear of aggravating 
 my own suiferings ?" 
 
 Thus justifying the risk he was resolved to run, 
 and determined to show his friend that he con-
 
 164 CONSTANCY. 
 
 sidered himself aggrieved by his coldness, he ar- 
 rived at the place of his destination, and raised a 
 trembling hand to the door. The servant, who 
 answered his summons, looked surprised when she 
 saw^ him prepare to enter with the undoubting air 
 of one who was expected ; and stopping him, she 
 told him that all the family were out. With a 
 feeling of astonishment, not unmixed with dis- 
 pleasure, Julian asked if they had left no message 
 for him ? 
 
 '^ Niente V^ answered the woman, impatient to 
 be gone, and closed the door leaving him to his 
 reflection. 
 
 He slowly took up his portfolio and descended 
 the stairs. The porter smiled as he saw him re- 
 turn, and said : 
 
 *' I told you that they were all out, but you 
 would not listen to me, or you might have spared 
 yourself the trouble of mounting one hundred and 
 three steps to inquire." 
 
 Julian, who heard him now, though in his pre- 
 vious haste he had not been sensible of his address, 
 asked if he knew whither they were gone, and heard 
 that they had dined at a house which he knew to 
 be occupied by some of their friends. 
 
 " They will go to the French Embassy before 
 they come home, I suppose," added the loquacious 
 Italian, and Julian resolved that he also would be 
 there. 
 
 Wilmot, as he walked homeward, could not con- 
 ceal from himself how bitterly he felt this first
 
 CONSTANCY. 165 
 
 instance of neglect and discourtesy on the part of 
 Mercedes. 
 
 " She should not have treated a tradesman or a 
 menial in such a manner," he said ; " perhaps my 
 avocation ranks in her esteem scarcely higher. 
 She looks on me as the hired limner at every 
 man's beck, and the haughty Wentworth no doubt 
 rejoiced in the thought of the rebuff I should meet 
 with at their door, while his brother wiU deem it a 
 salutary check to my presumption." 
 
 Having, by the due indulgence of such thoughts 
 as these, roused up a sufficient degree of angry 
 pride to bear him with dignity through the even- 
 ing, and after repeatedly representing to himself 
 the abject folly of continuing to seek one, who 
 already began to treat him with scorn, Julian set 
 out to the French ricevimento with the sole purpose 
 of being again in her presence. 
 
 As soon as Wilmot entered the room, he looked 
 around for the group he sought, and he quickly 
 discovered it. Wentworth was, it is true, at Mer- 
 cedes' side, but the graciousness with which both 
 she and Lady Sylvester welcomed him, at once 
 banished the idea of their having intended to 
 wound his feelings by their neglect, and Mercedes' 
 first smile convinced him how very ridiculous it 
 had been to interpret such a trifling act of forget- 
 ftilness into a serious affront. He now felt heartily 
 ashamed of all the angry sensations which a few 
 minutes before had appeared to him so spirited 
 and so just.
 
 166 CONSTANCY. 
 
 So entirely did Miss RatclifFe seem to have for- 
 gotten everything respecting his useless visit, that, 
 at length, finding some of his former indignation 
 reviving, and profiting by the removal of Arun- 
 del from his station to place himself near her, 
 he ventured to allude to his disappointment, 
 saying : 
 
 " Perhaps if you will yourself appoint a time to 
 see me, I may be more fortunate than I was in the 
 selection of my own hour." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" asked Mercedes, " when 
 did you wish to see me ?" 
 
 " Did not Mr. Wentworth tell you that I in- 
 tended to call this evening if you were disen- 
 gaged ?" 
 
 "No, indeed," replied Mercedes, but with an 
 air that showed that she did not suppose such an 
 omission could be seriously resented by any one. 
 " I dare say that he forgot all you said to him. 
 But," she added, seeing an expression of vexation 
 pass over Wilmot's countenance, " I am really very 
 sorry that this mistake should have occurred ; he 
 shall certainly make us aU proper apologies for his 
 carelessness." 
 
 Julian had still a question that he wished to ask 
 Mercedes, and with a little hesitation he communi- 
 cated to her an idea that had that day occurred to 
 him. 
 
 " Do you not think, Miss Ratcliffe," he said, 
 " that your picture would perhaps afford greater 
 pleasure to Mr. Ratcliffe, if in it you wore the cos-
 
 CONSTANCY. 167 
 
 tume of your mother's country ? He dwells so fre- 
 quently on your resemblance to her — will you 
 authorise me to select it ?" 
 
 Mercedes did not reply for a moment ; when she 
 spoke, her eyes were swimming with tears and she 
 said in a low voice : 
 
 " Yes. I thank you for the thought, and for 
 every thought you have, the object of which is to 
 give my father pleasure. I am grateful to you for 
 your gratitude to him. There seems to be a law 
 between your family and mine, that we shall still 
 be giving and receiving."
 
 168 CONSTANCY. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Je n'aime pas les faiseurs de remonstrances. Vous 
 tournez les choses d'une maniere qu'il semble que vous 
 avez raison. J'avais les plus belles pensees du monde et 
 vos discours m'ont brouille tout cela. — moliere. 
 
 On the following morning, Julian's first waking 
 thought was the appointment he had made, and he 
 looked forward to the fulfihiaent of it with anxiety. 
 
 Our young painter, before his arrival in Rome, had 
 led a life of great seclusion, mixing little with the 
 world, and very rarely encountering any who were 
 much more versed in it than himself. His tastes 
 and pursuits were such as inclined him rather to 
 solitude than to society, and during his residence 
 in the country in England, the few companions of 
 his own age that he possessed, could neither share 
 in his occupations and pleasures nor in any way 
 promote them. His father had bestowed on him 
 an excellent education, and ill able to meet 
 unnecessary expences had availed himself of the 
 knowledge which he possessed, and of the 
 skill in communicating it gained by experi- 
 ence, (the early years of his own life having been, as 
 we have already said, devoted to tuition), to prepare
 
 CONSTANCY. 169 
 
 him for admission at the University, having enter- 
 tained a hope of seeing him embrace the same pro- 
 fession as his own, which hope he only relinquished 
 in consequence of the rapid, and surprising de- 
 velopment of Julian's rare talent for the art of 
 painting. 
 
 An ardent taste for literature had induced Juhan, 
 in spite of his passion for his favourite art, to 
 devote more hours to the pursuit of it than are 
 often bestowed in youth, by many who afterwards 
 reap academical honours ; and having no particular 
 aim in view, no goal to which he was bound to 
 press with eager haste, he acquired more general 
 knowledge, and more true cultivation of mind than 
 those who are thus circumscribed in their studies. 
 The tender aifection which he entertained for his 
 mother led him to pass much of his time in her 
 society ; with her he culled the flowers that adorn 
 the lighter branches of literature. He entered the 
 regions of poetry, and became well acquainted with 
 all the best authors of his own country, and of mo- 
 dern times. 
 
 But while in such attainments as these he far sur- 
 passed those of his age in general, in that prema- 
 ture acquaintance with the world and its ways, 
 which a public education can scarcely fail to bestow^ 
 he was remarkably deficient. In consequence he 
 frequently knew not what mode of conduct to look 
 for in others, nor was able to detect the real mo- 
 tives of their actions. It is true that his acute 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 1 70 CONSTANCY. 
 
 sensibility, and ready sympathy rendered him pecu- 
 liarly alive to all emotions experienced by persons 
 who were objects of interest to him. He readily 
 divined what they would think and feel, though 
 not always what outward expression they would 
 allow themselves to give to their thoughts and feel- 
 ings. His unaccustomed eye could not always pe- 
 netrate the veil of reserve, which usually shades 
 the face of truth. He had still to learn that it is 
 only falsehood that presents her unblushing front 
 to the gaze of all spectators, and that those feel- 
 ings, motives and desires, which are avowed are 
 not likely to be the real ones ; for though Julian 
 w^as himself reserved, the reserve and bashfulness 
 to which his nature was prone, and which his 
 situation strengthened, were in him productive only 
 of habitual silence, and never incited him to pro- 
 fess false sentiments. Emerging as he did from 
 strict retirement, he was averse to give open ex- 
 pression to thoughts which were the offspring of 
 solitary musings, and as yet untested by comparison 
 with those of other minds ; and ill prepared to 
 maintain against opposition opinions which were 
 rather deduced from fanciful theories, than from 
 keen observation. But when he directed his atten- 
 tion to those who were sophisticated by commu- 
 nion with the world, and who lived in voluntary 
 and careful obedience to its laws, then again he was 
 baffled ; confounded by his ignorance of the princi- 
 ples that were their rule of conduct, of the interests
 
 CONSTANCY. 1 7 1 
 
 which were the objects of their eager pursuit, and 
 of the pleasures which they deemed solely worthy 
 to be desired. He was also unaware how much 
 both conduct and language are modified by con- 
 ventional forms, and how much there is that is 
 merely assumed as are our garments, according to 
 the fashion of the day, and the necessity of the 
 moment, ev^en by many whose honour and recti- 
 tude deserve not to be doubted, whose sincerity in 
 friendship may be relied upon, and whose principles 
 are still unwarped. Ignorance of this fact occa- 
 sioned him more difficulty in reading Lord Syl- 
 vester's character than that of any other near him. 
 Wentworth and his mother soon became objects 
 of distrust ; from the former he looked for nothing 
 high and noble, and the latter he suspected to be 
 as worldly, and more designing than her son ; but 
 he was greatly perplexed when he sometimes ob- 
 served Lord Sylvester, whom he highly esteemed, 
 do and say many things that contradicted his pre- 
 conceived ideas of his character. 
 
 Thus in the present instance, he thought that 
 his patron's open declaration of disapproval of 
 his conduct could not end where it began. He ex- 
 pected that if he persisted in pursuing the conduct 
 which his adviser had represented as so objection- 
 able, it would undoubtedly be at the expense of his 
 friendship. He looked for a calm but inflexible de- 
 monstration of displeasure. Nevertheless on his 
 arrival at the Palazzo, Julian saw Lord Sylvester 
 among the group, from all of whom he received 
 
 I 2
 
 172 CONSTANCY. 
 
 a friendly greeting ; and found that when referred to 
 by Mercedes, he did not decline entering into all the 
 discussions that followed with ready interest, and it 
 was his opinion that finally decided the selection of 
 the design for the proposed picture. 
 
 Julian was greatly relieved by this behaviour ; 
 but at the same time so much surprised by it, that 
 in accordance with the ingenuousness of his temper, 
 he determined to seek the earliest opportunity of 
 addressing his patron once again on the subject, in 
 order to ascertain what change had taken place in 
 his view of it, since they had discussed it with such 
 widely differing opinions. 
 
 The desired opportunity occurred on the evening 
 of the same day, when Julian at the entrance into 
 the Borghese gardens met Lord Sylvester alone. 
 He paused to see whether his companionship would 
 be sought or avoided, and his friend immediately 
 joined him. Julian was too much occupied by the 
 design he had formed to be able to enter freely 
 into conversation ; at length he began to fear that 
 Lord Sylvester would remark his abstraction, and 
 receive fresh offence from it. He therefore deter- 
 mined to declare its cause, particularly as they had 
 now entered one of those long ilex avenues, the 
 profound shade and total seclusion of which render 
 them so well adapted for private conferences. After 
 having duly considered every possible way of ap- 
 proaching the subject, he finally commenced with 
 an abruptness which made his companion start. 
 " Surely, he said, " I may believe that I am no
 
 CONSTANCY. 1 73 
 
 longer so much the object of your Lordship's dis- 
 approbation as I was a few days since ?" 
 
 " To what do you allude ?" asked Lord Sylvester 
 drily. 
 
 " You cannot have forgotten that you expressed 
 such a feeling, in no very measured terms, with 
 regard to my intention." 
 
 " Oh ! with respect to Miss Ratcliffe ? Why 
 should that disapprobation be lessened ? I am 
 aware of no change in the then existing circum- 
 stances. What I thought then, I think now ; but 
 I know not why it should avail to say again w^hat 
 I have ah'eady said uselessly. I intended, Mr. 
 Wilmot, to act the part of a friend, in expressing 
 to you distinctly, and without keeping back any 
 portion of it, my opinion of the conduct you told 
 me it was your purpose to pursue. My words did 
 not shake your determination. You will not, I 
 suppose, call for a repetition of arguments which 
 you deemed without force. You are resolved to 
 adopt your own measures. You are certainly at 
 liberty to do so. It is true that you are young 
 and inexperienced, and that I have ceased to be 
 either in the extreme. These are facts which 
 must be allowed, nor am I aware that they contain 
 anything to offend, though I feel your arm twitch im- 
 patiently. I admire your talents; I like your truth, and 
 your enthusiasm interests me. I do not intend to 
 lose sight of you, nor shall I cease to endeavour to 
 serve you, because I find you, in one instance, 
 headstrong and mistaken. Nevertheless, you can
 
 174 * CONSTANCY. 
 
 scarcely expect to find me constantly on the watch 
 to reiterate counsels that will not be followed ; nor 
 have I exactly leisure, or inclination to play the 
 spy upon your movements. That you intend to 
 act honourably, I perfectly believe ; that you will 
 never swerve in conduct from your intention is, 
 I think, more than you dare promise without pre- 
 sumption. A very wise author, whom I may re- 
 commend to your perusal (Boyle, I mean) says 
 with admirable truth : ' He must often go further 
 than he can with prudence, that will always go 
 as far as he thinks he can with innocence,' " 
 
 " If I can preserve innocence, I will give up 
 all claims to prudence," interrupted Julian scorn- 
 
 My. 
 
 " I should like to induce you," replied his friend, 
 " and all those who fall into the vulgar fault of 
 speaking disparagingly of prudence, to look round 
 the world, and to consider what the consequences 
 of imprudence are, and you will frequently find 
 that they are degrading enough in their nature to 
 check your expression of contempt, or to change 
 your application of it." 
 
 " It is the common rumour of society," con- 
 tinued Julian with a desire to be contradicted or 
 confirmed in his worst fears, " that Miss Ratcliffe 
 is already betrothed — " 
 
 " To Arundel?" asked Lord Sylvester, com- 
 posedly. 
 
 " Yes," replied Julian, in a faltering voice. 
 
 " Indeed ! I am not yet aware of the existence
 
 CONSTANCY. / 1 75 
 
 of such an engagement." Lord Sylvester paused 
 for a moment, and then changing his manner, he 
 said frankly : " I do not mean to threaten that you 
 shall never again hear a friendly warning from my 
 lips. If your danger, and with it your blindness 
 increase, I may be again provoked to speak, and 
 perhaps again in vain. If I see you on the brink 
 of rashly endangering your honour and your, 
 interests, I may again expostulate. At present I 
 deem it useless to recur to the subject. You 
 have chosen the part you will play ; if enacted 
 successfully, it may certainly be performed without 
 injury to others, though not with safety to your- 
 self. If this prove the case, I may admit of your 
 conduct as pardonable, but it is neither advisable 
 nor to be justified " 
 
 " One word more," added Lord Sylvester, after 
 a pause. " Do not again mistake me so far as 
 to suppose that any feeling I express dies with 
 the expression of it. I am not fond of dictating 
 sentiments to others, nor desirous to make con- 
 verts to my own opinions ; but what I say one 
 day certainly is not forgotten the next. Where 
 you leave me, there may you find me ; but not 
 unless you seek me." 
 
 Julian was more abashed and disconcerted by 
 these dispassionate words than he would have 
 been by the severest rebukes. To have provoked 
 such would scarcely have been altogether displeas- 
 ing to him, for if his patron had outstepped the 
 bounds of cool reason, or trespassed beyond the
 
 176 CONSTANCY. 
 
 rights of friendly expostulation, he might have 
 resented his conduct in turn. But now he was 
 reduced to absolute silence, and endured all the 
 humiliation of beholding himself an object of pity 
 to one whom he highly respected. He would 
 rather have been blamed than thus compassionated. 
 He felt degraded ; he saw that he had sunk in 
 Lord Sylvester's estimation, and that he considered 
 his weakness not inferior to his wilfulness. One 
 source of doubt and difficulty was, however, re- 
 moved by this conversation ; he now knew the 
 footing on which he stood with Lord Sylvester ; 
 he also felt that he had been treated with conde- 
 scending kindness, and a consideration that would 
 have been shown him by few, thus elevated above 
 him in rank. He was at a loss how to reply ; at 
 length with an air of somewhat proud humility, 
 he acknowledged the sincere pleasure it gave him 
 to find that he was permitted to retain his friend- 
 ship, and remarked that the future would prove 
 whether he had acted too rashly, or whether Lord 
 Sylvester's fears were too easily excited. This 
 was the conclusion of their discourse. 
 
 Lady Sylvester was now informed that it would 
 be requisite for the young heiress to pass many 
 hours in the painter's studio, to afford him time to 
 execute his picture. She immediately resolved 
 that she would not incommode herself by atten- 
 dance there ; she had little disposition to allow 
 her time to be broken in upon, or her pleasures 
 interrupted, by any engagements made by Mercedes.
 
 CONSTANCY. 177 
 
 But this selfish unconceiii for all that did not 
 regard herself was not meant to be visible to the 
 eye of her young companion, and she hastened 
 to procure her a fitting chaperone in the person 
 of an elderly lady, Mrs. Pembruge. Having 
 engaged her to accede to her wishes, she com- 
 municated her arrangement to Mercedes, pathe- 
 tically giving as its reason that to frequent a studio 
 in which oil painting was being executed would 
 absolutely destroy her. Mercedes could not, of 
 course, consent to be the cause of so much suf- 
 fering. 
 
 All preliminaries being now adjusted, those 
 dangerous hours began which were to rob Julian 
 of all remaining peace, but which were too delightful 
 as they passed to let him recognize until they ended, 
 the extent of the injury they inflicted. 
 
 'Tis when the wound is stiffening with the cold, 
 The warrior first feels pain. 
 
 I 3
 
 178 CONSTANCY. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Periglioso e cercar quel che trovato 
 Trastulla, si, ma piu tormenta assai, 
 Non ritrovato. tasso. 
 
 C'est ordinairement ou Ton decide le plus qu'on prouve 
 le moins ; quoiqu*on reponde a toutes les difficultes, on 
 en resout tres peu. — girard. 
 
 Lord Sylvester frequently accompanied or fol- 
 lowed Mercedes to the painter's studio. Whether 
 it was that he was really interested in the progress 
 of the portrait, or whether he thought that as his 
 mother and his brother rarely visited them, and 
 Mrs. Pembruge, poor woman, was so afflicted 
 with deafness as to be scarcely able to join in the 
 conversation without the use of a trumpet, and 
 thus, these interviews were too nearly approaching 
 to t^te-a-Mtes for his young friend to enjoy them in 
 safety; be the cause what it would, his presence 
 there was frequent, and appeared highly agreeable 
 to all. 
 
 Mercedes began to find that, during these 
 hours time past more pleasantly than in any others 
 of the day ; she had, of late, she scarce knew why, 
 perceived it to hang heavily on her hands. Mer- 
 cedes was very young, and her character, as yet
 
 CONSTANCY. 173 
 
 undeveloped to others, was also a secret to herself. 
 She was far from analysing or examining with much 
 closeness the origin of feelings of indefinahle long- 
 ing that fiUed her bosom, and which were in truth 
 yearnings after a sympathy which did not exist 
 for her, among those w^hom she had ignorantly 
 elected her friends ; but it was impossible for her 
 to disguise from herself that she was rapidly ceasing 
 to taste the same joyous happiness which had 
 been her's a short time before. A depression of 
 spirits existed for which she could not account, but 
 of which she was painfully sensible. She could not 
 say : " here is my pain ;" but there was a sickness 
 of heart that passed not away, and of which she 
 almost lost the recollection when conversing with 
 Julian and his friend ; discussing with them topics 
 which not only afforded her mind occupation at the 
 moment, but led her on to seek the attainment of 
 more knowledge, and furnished her with themes 
 for future thought and study. 
 
 Being also gifted with real taste, she could not, 
 in spite of her disquietude, cease to derive a most 
 lively pleasure from visits to the scenes of weU- 
 deserved celebrity by which she was surrounded, 
 and from the contemplation of those glorious 
 works of art, which never fail to reward those who 
 are constant and unwearied in returning to seek 
 their presence, by fresh disclosures of beauti- s 
 previously unobserved. Each visit reveals new 
 charms, and as the spirit of their beholder becomes
 
 1 80 CONSTANCY. 
 
 more and more embued with the same spirit that 
 first created them, draughts of pleasure, of daily 
 increasing sweetness, are drunk at the spring of 
 inspiration. These delights might have cheered 
 the most deep-rooted melancholy ; they generally 
 dispelled the passing clouds that darkened Mer- 
 cedes' serenity. 
 
 At the hour when the sitting terminated, Lady 
 Sylvester would call for Mercedes, who frequently 
 communicated to Julian their projects for the 
 remainder of the day, and often invited him to 
 follow them to any spot of peculiar interest which 
 they were about to visit. With her usual unhesi- 
 tating frankness, she did not conceal from the 
 young painter the satisfaction w^hich she derived 
 from the intercourse between them. 
 
 " How agreeable," she one day exclaimed, when 
 Lord Sylvester also was present, " are the hours 
 that I spend here ! I am always sorry when my 
 sitting comes to an end. Tell me, if you can, 
 why in society conversation is generally so dull ? 
 We render ours very interesting, at least to our- 
 selves who hold it, by selecting subjects that afford 
 us mutual pleasure, instead of repeating unprofit- 
 able, wearisome gossip of the day, composed of 
 anecdotes, generally ill-natured, for the truth of 
 which none can vouch, and those who con- 
 descend to repeat them are, for the most part, 
 incapable of giving them a foreign charm by the 
 wit with which tliey tell them. What is worst
 
 CONSTANCY. 181 
 
 of all is, that these topics, so destitute of any 
 recommendation, seem inexhaustible ; they meet 
 you every where. But for my part, I assure you I 
 have many thoughts that appear to me very new 
 and fresh, but am afraid to utter them, and this 
 fear is inspired by that which I discover in others. 
 But surely every one has sufficient individuality to 
 afford something original, though the contributions 
 of some might be but small, and yet that some- 
 thing they never venture to offer, and I dare not 
 be more bold." 
 
 " As you say," replied Lord Sylvester with a 
 smile, " there does appear to be a species of false 
 humility in the world which prevents even those, 
 who, in other respects, we should be inclined to 
 deem very arrogant, from ever daring to appear in 
 their natural colours. They would not for a 
 moment present you with themselves; borrowed 
 wit, false sentiments are all they offer. But I 
 am convinced that some of them are justly pun- 
 ished for so doing. ^ Us per dent par calcul le 
 succes qu'ils auraient ohtenu par nature.^ " 
 
 " Yes," answered Mercedes, " conversation would 
 then afford a diversity for which all would be 
 grateful. Originality in one would be productive 
 of it in another. One new thought always sug- 
 gests another, for though memory and art may 
 be exhausted, nature cannot. Do you know," 
 she added, after a pause, " that I imagine that 
 society must be more agreeable to people who 
 have neither very decided tastes, nor pursuits, than 
 to those who have."
 
 182 CONSTANCY. 
 
 " Why so ?" asked Lord Sylvester, who was 
 fond of eliciting Miss Ratcliffe's sentiments. 
 
 " I fancy that you find more amusement in 
 society than Mr. Wilmot does. Your mind must 
 be more free than his can be, to adopt the sugges- 
 tions of other minds ; and can more readily follow 
 any turn that conversation takes." 
 
 " Because," said Juhan, " Lord Sylvester is re- 
 markable for his various information." 
 
 " Exactly in accordance with what I mean !" 
 replied Mercedes quickly. " A person who does 
 not greatly prefer one thing to another, would 
 naturally acquire something of all. I have often 
 seen Mr. Wilmot silent, abstracted, and evidently 
 perfectly uninterested, until some remark was made 
 that related to his beloved art ; then, indeed, his 
 countenance becomes animated, and he joins in 
 the conversation with every appearance of real 
 delight. Lord Sylvester, on the contrary, seems 
 only to experience a certain agreeable pleasure, 
 equally felt while very different topics are being 
 discussed, and which a change of subject does 
 not greatly heighten or diminish." 
 
 Both Lord Sylvester and Julian smiled at this 
 description of themselves, which neither allowed to 
 be at all in their favour. Juhan asserted that, 
 if just, it proved him to possess a very narrow 
 mind to be thus filled with one idea to the exclu- 
 sion of all others. 
 
 " You have absolutely decided," Lord Sylvester 
 replied, " that I am destitute of a spark of 
 o-enius ; for the state of placid indifference which
 
 CONSTANCY. 183 
 
 you attribute to me, certainly is not demonstrative 
 of its existence. You deem me eminently fitted to 
 shine in that style of conversation, which, Hazlitt 
 says, is now becoming nearly universal, and de- 
 scribes as ' a dull compound of politics, criticism, 
 chemistry, and metaphysics.' " 
 
 " No, not necessarily dull," replied Mercedes ; 
 " give me your metaphysics, and Mr. Wilmot yoiu* 
 criticism, and neither of us will call you dull. 
 But, seriously, I think that criticism is your true 
 province, for I have a conviction that to exercise 
 an art absolutely disables one from criticising it. 
 It is necessary to the existence of judicious criti- 
 cism that there should be a class of people pos- 
 sessed of real taste and extensive knowledge, but 
 free from that besoin de faire that produces 
 painters, versifiers, musicians, and all other artists. 
 Will you give me your support in this opinion, 
 Mr. Wilmot?" 
 
 " I should like to hear why you hold it," an- 
 swered Julian. 
 
 " Let me consider a little, for I find it difficult 
 to express exactly what I mean, and often say 
 nearly the contrary of what I intend." 
 
 "The reason of your opinion may be this," 
 said Lord Sylvester, " you probably think that 
 jealousy incapacitates artists for giving, if not 
 for forming just judgments of works of art pro- 
 duced by their fellow-labourers. Remember 
 Titian's envy, and how he indulged it, even with 
 regard to his own brother, whom he dissuaded 
 from attempts which he saw would rival his own."
 
 1 84 CONSTANCY. 
 
 " That is not the cause of your opinion, is it 
 Miss RatdifFe ?" asked Julian. 
 
 "No — I leave every approach to satire to Lord 
 Sylvester." 
 
 " Yes," replied Julian, " you are too much in 
 earnest when you speak to be satirical." 
 
 "Why will you not say, too little malicious? 
 After this digression I have still to tell my mean- 
 ing. Though I do not believe that you could be 
 envious, neither do I think that you would be im- 
 partial. I feel that painters would be more merci- 
 fully disposed one towards another than the critic, 
 however candid, would be towards them. Being 
 much more sensible of tlie difficulties that had 
 been encountered, you would esteem any degree 
 of success, though falling far short of excellence, 
 more highly than others are prepared to do. It 
 may certainly be very laudable to come near the 
 mark, but still the prize ought not to be obtained 
 without hitting it." 
 
 " But surely a judicious critic should be alive 
 to all the grades of excellence ?" 
 
 " Undoubtedly, but might not a painter be 
 too much so ? Nor do I think that a person who 
 exercises an art, is always quite disposed to point 
 out precisely where the difficulty really lies on ac- 
 count of his feeUng of insecurity as to whether he shall 
 overcome it with more perfect success, when he 
 attempts it himself; he would not declare with 
 openness exactly how, and where, and why, the 
 painter he was examining had failed. In discussing 
 all these questions, he would feel that he was fur-
 
 CONSTANCY. 185 
 
 nishing weapons against himself, while the critic 
 would decide them with unscrupulous temerity, 
 knowing that he could not be taxed with falling 
 short in his practice of his own precepts." 
 
 " How did you acquire so deep an insight into 
 all these motives and feehngs ?" asked Lord Syl- 
 vester with a smile. 
 
 " Ah ! you wish to laugh at my discourse, rather 
 than to agree with it. Do you not believe, Mr. 
 Wilmot, that I have arrived at some truths ?" 
 
 " Undoubtedly I do, for it seems to me that I 
 have felt what you describe." 
 
 " So have I in a degree, just enough to occasion 
 me to find it out," said Mercedes ; " and these 
 remarks have led me to a discovery of the exist- 
 ence of a great analogy between moral philo- 
 sophy and the art of painting. I am sure much 
 instruction might be derived from following it up, 
 in which opinion I have been strengthened by my 
 study of a book of yours. Lord Sylvester, which 
 I knew must be worth stealing, from having 
 observed your fondness for it. I mean Boyle's 
 Occasional Reflections. If he can say so much 
 that is wise and beautiful on the occasion of ' giving 
 his dog some meat,' or of ' being carved to at a feast,' 
 I am sure that a student at his easel might find 
 scope for quite as profound reflections, if he knew 
 as well how to make them. Some day you shall 
 see such a volume proceed from my pen. I will 
 dedicate it to you, Mr. Wilmot, and bring it to 
 you to be revised."
 
 186 CONSTANCY. 
 
 " I have often thought of writing the Miseries 
 of the Studio, hut never the Moral Reflections,'* 
 replied Julian, as he obliterated with an air of 
 disgust some of the touches he had most carefully 
 executed. 
 
 " I greatly prefer your idea, Miss Ratcliife," said 
 Lord Sylvester ; " but I really think that the dedi- 
 cation ought to be to me, as my book suggested 
 your design, and also, I assure you, I fear that the 
 author you so warmly commend is far too rational 
 for an imitator of his to please Mr. Wilmot." 
 
 " Too rational !" exclaimed Mercedes. " Is it 
 possible that Mr. Wilmot is less rational than I 
 am ? Do you really think it likely that I shall 
 be too rational to please him ?" 
 
 Lord Sylvester smiled at this question and then 
 said : " L'esprit n^est pas incompatible avec un 
 peu defolie, and still less so is genius." 
 
 " Your compliment is so ambiguous," exclaimed 
 Mercedes laughing, " that Mr. Wilmot will not 
 acknowledge it. Yet, I think, in spite of its 
 little praise, he might receive it gratefully, for he 
 never pays any himself; at least not to the living. 
 On the dead, he will waste the most enthusiastic 
 effusions !" 
 
 " Yes," replied Lord Sylvester ; " and to return 
 once more to our first subject, you must allow, 
 Miss Ratclitfe, that though painters may not be 
 qualified to excel in criticism, they are certainly 
 capable of deriving tenfold more pleasure than 
 any other beholder can, from the contemplation
 
 CONSTANCY. 18? 
 
 of a fine picture. Critics may gaze long and 
 learnedly, but in comparison with them, with how 
 * blank an eye !' " 
 
 " Say no more ; you do but remind me how 
 much I envy Mr. Wilmot the power of admiring 
 as I have seen him admire. A power we ask in 
 vain of dry, cold, learning to bestow is to be 
 attained only with a portion of kindred genius ; 
 without that we can only ' see, not feel' the beauty 
 of those works which he will rival !" exclaimed 
 Mercedes, her face beaming with enthusiasm like 
 that she was describing. She paused awhile 
 thoughtfully, and then with some timidity she 
 resumed, addressing Julian : 
 
 " Did you ever read Gessner's description of an 
 artist ? When he says : ' There is no celebrity 
 for the artist, if the love of his art do not become 
 a vehement passion ; if the hoiu-s he employs to 
 cultivate it be not for him the most delicious hours 
 of his life ; if study become not his true existence 
 and his first happiness ; if even in the night-time 
 the ideas of his art do not occupy his vigils or his 
 dreams ; if in the morning he fly not to his work, 
 impatient to recommence what he left unfinished.' 
 I read this passage some mornings ago, and it 
 has remained impressed on my memory ever since, 
 because I thought it must be so exact a descrip- 
 tion of you, Mr. Wilmot. Am I mistaken ?" And 
 she turned towards Julian with an earnestness 
 which embarrassed him, and waited for his reply. 
 
 " You have known all these feelings, have you 
 not ?" she repeated.
 
 188 CONSTANCY. 
 
 " I have," replied Julian, raising his eyes to 
 her face as she spoke. 
 
 " I think that I have also," added Mercedes 
 thoughtfully and timidly, " and yet I am no genius. 
 And," she continued after a pause, speaking with 
 a bright, sunny smile, expressive of, and infusing 
 hope, " remember and believe what Gessner says : — 
 * these are the marks of him who labours for glory, 
 and for posterity.' " 
 
 Julian listened with joy to this promise of success 
 made by Mercedes' lips ; but they were both re- 
 called from their pleasant reverie by the voice of 
 Lord Sylvester, who said : 
 
 *' You have been talking poetry in prose. Now 
 I will talk it to you in verse, and repeat some 
 lines of Coleridge which, I know, will well accord 
 with your sentiments : — 
 
 We may not hope from outward form to win 
 
 The passion, and the life whose fountains are within. 
 
 Oh ! Lady, we receive but what we give. 
 
 And in our hfe alone does Nature live : 
 
 Ours is her wedding garment, ours her shroud ! 
 
 And would we aught behold of higher worth. 
 
 Than that inanimate cold world allowed 
 
 To the poor loveless, ever anxious crowd. 
 
 Ah ! from the soul itself must issue forth 
 
 A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud 
 
 Enveloping the earth — 
 
 And from the soul itself must there be sent 
 
 A sweet and potent voice, of its own birth, 
 
 Of all sweet sounds the life and element." 
 
 Is not this beautiful ?" 
 
 " Beautiful 1" responded Julian and Mercedes. 
 
 " Stop, there is more of it :
 
 CONSTANCY. 189 
 
 We in ourselves rejoice ! 
 And thence flows all that charms or ear or sight, 
 All melodies the echoes of that voice. 
 All colours a suffusion from that light/' 
 
 Lord Sylvester ceased, and before Mercedes could 
 speak again, (for she was one who was silenced 
 when her feelings were touched, as they were by 
 all that was beautiful,) Mrs. Pembmge, having read 
 Galignani's Messenger three times over during 
 the course of the sitting, remarked that she saw 
 Lady Sylvester's carriage enter the court. A dis- 
 course ensued on the progress which Julian had 
 made, and then Mercedes and her companions 
 departed.
 
 190 CONSTANCY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Non puo far Morte il dolce viso amaro : 
 Ma '1 dolce viso dolce puo far Morte. 
 
 PETRARCA. 
 
 One day Mercedes, having quitted Julian's 
 studio, drove through the streets of Ronae with 
 Lady Sylvester, every moment encountering some 
 work of beauty and of fame. As they were without 
 any definite object of pursuit, she proposed as they 
 passed the church of St. Cecilia in Trastevere to 
 enter it, giving as a reason for her wish : 
 
 " I have heard that Maderno's statue is very 
 lovely, and I think I must take home one of those 
 small copies of it in marble which can be had, if 
 the original equals my expectation." 
 
 On their entrance into the church, they per- 
 ceived an artist apparently employed in drawing 
 the work they were come to see. 
 
 " Ah !" exclaimed Mercedes, " there is Mr. Wil- 
 mot, I see he is making a study. How glad I 
 am to find him here ! I will ask him to be our 
 cicerone." 
 
 And she crossed the church to the place where 
 he was standing. No sooner did he perceive her, 
 than he laid aside his work and approached the 
 altar with her. The recumbent figure of the Saint
 
 CONSTANCY. 1 9 1 
 
 is said to be in the attitude in which she was found 
 lying after she was slain. 
 
 There is something in this statue so simply 
 pathetic, so touching, and so sad, that they both 
 gazed on it silently, and with full hearts. Mer- 
 cedes felt strongly reminded of Byron's description 
 of the first day of death, and she almost uncon- 
 sciously repeated in a half audible voice the lines : 
 
 He who hath bent him o'er the dead 
 
 Ere the first day of death is fled ; 
 
 The first dark day of nothingness — 
 
 The last of danger and distress ; 
 
 Before decay's effacing fingers 
 
 Have swept the hnes where beauty lingers, 
 
 And marked the mild angeUc air — 
 
 The rapture of repose that's there. 
 
 And — but for that cold, changeless brow. 
 
 Where cold obstruction's apathy 
 
 Appals the gazing mourner's heart. 
 
 As if to him it could impart 
 
 The doom he dreads, yet dwells upon — 
 
 Yes ! but for this, and this alone. 
 
 Some moments, ay, one treacherous hour. 
 
 He still might doubt the tyrant's power. 
 
 So fair, so calm, so softly sealed. 
 
 The first, last look by death revealed ! 
 
 The statue is hewn from a block of the purest 
 marble, unsullied by a single stain; its spotless 
 whiteness adds to the modest grace of the recum- 
 bent attitude, and of the shrouding folds of the 
 drapery. One delicate, snowy foot is revealed to 
 view; her hands also are stretched forth on the 
 pavement, while the head and face, which are
 
 192 CONSTANCY. 
 
 turned away, are completely enveloped in her robe. 
 It would be possible to gaze upon her, and to say, 
 " she is not dead, but sleepeth !" It would be pos- 
 sible to wait beside her for the hour of waking, but 
 that the lifelessness of the fair hands, lying heavily 
 on the ground, their slight wrists cruelly bound 
 together with a thick cord, and the unsightly seam 
 drawn across that bending throat, tell us that she 
 died of pain ! The bare idea, thus suggested, that 
 corporeal sufferings were ever inflicted on a frame 
 so lovely, and so feminine, oppresses the heart with 
 anguish. 
 
 Mercedes was alone with Julian, for Lady Syl- 
 vester was exploring the church, accompanied by 
 the garrulous old man who showed it. Had this 
 been otherwise, she would not have suffered with- 
 out a struggle, the tears to fall ' so feelingly and 
 fast,' as she leant over the balustrades which sepa- 
 rated them from the statue. 
 
 She was not long unmolested. Another party 
 came round the spot, all loudly uttering such re- 
 marks as they were disposed to make. Mercedes 
 withdrew in haste from the group, and said to 
 Julian, — 
 
 " Let me come and look at your drawing." 
 
 He followed her, guessing her motive, and obey- 
 ing her request. She took the sketch into her 
 hand, and looking up, said, 
 
 " I believe you are the only person here who 
 would not tax me with folly and weakness. Even 
 in this, perhaps, I am mistaken," she said, mis-
 
 CONSTANCY. 193 
 
 interpreting the silence which Julian maintained. 
 " Some," said Mercedes, her cheek crimsoning at 
 the thought of the imputation, " would accuse me 
 of affectation." 
 
 " That is an unworthy folly," exclaimed Julian, 
 eagerly, " of which I never yet saw you guilty." 
 
 " I have feigned sometimes," replied Mercedes, 
 thoughtfully ; " but then I did not feign to feel : 
 but not to feel. Mr. Wilmot," she exclaimed, 
 after a brief silence, summoning up a smile, 
 although — 
 
 Upon her cheek the stain did sit 
 
 Of an old tear, that was not washed off yet. 
 
 " You are, I am afraid, a bad companion for me ; 
 you encourage me in a sort of melancholy that I 
 should quickly shake off in other society; and in 
 the indulgence of thoughts that I never dare to 
 express to any one else. I think you do me 
 harm." 
 
 These were Mercedes' parting words to the 
 young painter, for Lady Sylvester was now ready to 
 quit the church, and she hastened to follow her. 
 
 The next day as Mercedes quitted Julian's 
 studio, she told him that they were going to visit 
 the church of San Gregorio sul Monte Celio. 
 
 *' We must see," she said, " the splendid frescoes 
 which adorn it. Besides, the remembrance of our 
 national obligations to the saint should make us 
 pay him a visit, and we shall behold the chair on 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 CONSTANCY. 
 
 which he sat, the bed on which he lay, and the 
 table at which he entertained an angel." 
 
 On the arrival of Mercedes and her friends, they 
 found the painter already there, on the steps that 
 lead up to the church, gazing on the magnificent 
 view which that position commands of the ruins of 
 the Palace of the Caesars. They all paused to 
 look for awhile on the melancholy scene, w^hich 
 can never be described in words more faithful than 
 those employed by Byron, the truth of whose 
 epithets cannot be sufficiently admired and appre- 
 ciated by any who have not tested them, by com- 
 paring them on the spot with the scenes which 
 gave them birth. 
 
 Cypress and ivy, weed and wall-flower grown 
 Matted and massed together — hillocks heaped 
 On what were chambers — arch crushed — column strewn 
 In fragments — choked up vaults, and frescoes steeped 
 In subterranean damp, where the owl peeped 
 Deeming it midnight. Temples, baths, or halls. 
 Pronounce who can ; for all that learning reaped 
 From her research, hath been — that these are walls ! 
 Behold the Imperial Mount ! 'tis thus the mighty falls !" 
 
 As their principal desire was to see the beautiful 
 frescoes that decorate the three chapels built 
 by St. Gregory, and standing apart from the 
 church and from each other, in the garden, they now 
 entered the first which is dedicated to St. Silvia, the 
 mother of the saint. 
 
 Mercedes was enchanted with the beauty of the 
 angels with which Guido has decorated the ceiling 
 above the altar.
 
 CONSTANCY, 195 
 
 "Look," she exclaimed eagerly to Julian, "at 
 the loveliness of these angelic beings ! I believe 
 that every one before and since the time of Icarus 
 has felt a desire to become possessed of the power 
 of flight, (I suppose that they might flee away and 
 be at rest) but I never felt it so strongly as at 
 this moment. If I can ever,; meet with an inge- 
 nious artist who is willing to make an attempt 
 to gratify my wish, I shall beg him to come hither 
 to' study these exquisite examples of what wings 
 ought to be." 
 
 On proceeding to the second chapel, the terrible 
 solemnity of the subjects there portrayed, and the 
 sublimity with which they were expressed, checked 
 the gaiety which Mercedes had hitherto felt. As 
 she stood before those wonderful productions of 
 rival genius spurred on by immediate emulation, the 
 pictures of Guido andofDomenichino, representing 
 the Flagellation and the Crucifixion of St. Andrew, 
 she felt silenced and awed by the thoughts natur- 
 ally excited by a contemplation of the almost 
 living representation of the holy Apostle's sufl'erings, 
 and she drew nearer to Julian, not disposed to 
 speak herself, but willing to hear the remarks 
 of one whose sentiments ahvays harmonized with 
 her own. 
 
 As they neither of them spoke, Lord Sylvester 
 broke silence by saying : 
 
 " Well, Miss Ratclifl^e, have you decided as 
 to the respectiv^e merits of the two rivals ? Which 
 of these pictures do you prefer ?" 
 
 K 2
 
 196 CONSTANCY. 
 
 " I am lost in admiration of both," replied 
 Mercedes, starting; " indeed, I had almost for- 
 gotten that they were pictures ; at least, I was 
 not thinking of their merits as paintings at the 
 moment you spoke." 
 
 " Look," said Julian, who had listened to her, 
 pointing to Guido's picture of the procession 
 of the Saint to the place of his Crucifixion ; 
 " look, I entreat you, for a moment on the counte- 
 nance of this woman who is seated on the ground. 
 If she be not already a convert, she will be one. 
 The expression of her face declares more forcibly 
 than words, that these brutal acts of cruelty are iUr- 
 calculated to exterminate, or even to check the 
 progress of the opinions of those on whom they are 
 perpetrated. She gazes on the saint with the 
 most lively pity, and the most earnest desire 
 to see whether he wiU endure to the end. What 
 an air of lofty indignation does her whole figure 
 and attitude express ! If she were not a feeble 
 woman she would spring to her feet, and contend 
 with the fierce soldiers who are violating the 
 reverence which they owe to that grey-haired 
 old man, when dragging him onward to destruc- 
 tion." 
 
 " Now," said Julian after a brief pause, for 
 he saw that the rest of the party were hurrying on, 
 " let us turn and look at the spectators that 
 Domenichino has introduced into his representa- 
 tion of the previous Flagellation of the Saint. Do 
 you see this young child clinging to his mother in
 
 CONSTANCY. 197 
 
 a very agony of terror ? The scene of horror that 
 he is witnessing is incomprehensible, but most 
 terrible to him ; yet, a strange fascination incapa- 
 citates him from turning away his eyes from it. 
 Perhaps it is that the mild and heavenly counte- 
 nance of that suffering old man endears him to 
 that tender infant heart, and his interest is as fully 
 awakened as his fear, which is soothed by the 
 presence and protection of his mother. Perhaps at 
 this moment the seed of future martyrdom is 
 being sown in his breast, and in this scene of blood- 
 shed is being trained a soldier who shall combat for, 
 and win an imperishable crown." 
 
 Such were the remarks that Julian's enthusiasm 
 would lead him to pour forth ; but whenever uttered, 
 it was in a manner so wholly unobtrusive, that 
 those who valued them were forced to be on 
 the watch to catch them as they fell from his 
 lips. Mercedes was well content to pay this tri- 
 bute, but she left him now, for she had already 
 outstayed her companions. 
 
 The following day Julian went to the Vatican, 
 and on his entrance into the first gallery he found 
 Lord and Lady Sylvester, Mercedes, and several 
 more waiting for admission into the librar}^ He 
 stopped as he past, and received an invitation 
 to be of their party. On entering, they were 
 charmed by the first coup d'wil of the magnifi- 
 cence and vastness of the saloon, the extreme 
 freshness of the paintings which decorated the 
 walls, and the fine vista formed by the long gal-
 
 198 CONSTANCY. 
 
 leries that ran from light and from left, to the unin- 
 terrupted length of four hundred feet. The noble 
 granite tables supported by bronze figures of excel- 
 lent workmanship ; the beautiful china, the classic 
 vases of Greece and Etruria, and the rare curiosities 
 that were displayed to them, all excited their admi- 
 ration; they surveyed with some interest the 
 fresco painting of Zuccari, covering the pilasters 
 that divide the room and the arches over the win- 
 dows, which are both equal in number. Nothing 
 can be more rich than this profusion of brilliant 
 colouring thus bestowed, and the subjects of which 
 the pictures are composed they found not uninter- 
 esting. Among them were all the most celebrated 
 libraries of past times, and over the door by which 
 they entered was a painting representing Sixtus V. 
 receiving the plan of the present library from 
 Fontana. 
 
 "This is really the most beautiful, the gayest 
 looking room I ever entered," exclaimed Mercedes ; 
 " it would be quite impossible to study here. All 
 these bright colours, and graceful, fantastic orna- 
 ments would distract the attention of the most 
 serious book-worm. Nor is it at all satisfac- 
 tory to see no books. The sight of them 
 disposes the mind to study ; nothing inspires the 
 desire so strongly as to find yourself sur- 
 rounded by venerable folios that look so pro- 
 foundly wise, and as if quite confident that they 
 could, if properly appealed to, and treated with 
 due reverence, reveal many deep secrets well
 
 CONSTANCY. 199 
 
 worth obtaining at any cost of time and trouble. 
 I always long to begin forthwith, to seat myself on 
 the ground before them, and by gentle means in- 
 duce them to leave their ancient station, and to 
 permit me to dislodge their long estabhshed dust, 
 that in itself demands respect. Then, in spite of 
 their groans and the many mysterious noises uttered 
 around, which might well be supposed to indicate 
 displeasiu'e at the disturbance occasioned by an 
 audacious hand, I would persuade them to allow 
 me to acquaint myself, in some slight measure 
 at least, with 
 
 The close pressed leaves unclosed for many an age. 
 The dull red edging of the well filled page, 
 On the broad back the stubborn ridges rolled 
 Where yet the title stands in tarnished gold. 
 
 Do you not feel," she continued, addressing Julian 
 w^ho was near her, " when in a library, that no- 
 thing would so certainly ensure the happiness and 
 peace of your existence as to become really devoted 
 to such pursuits ? I have this conviction so 
 strongly that I always entertain a vague hope that 
 I may be left behind while reading the titles of 
 my future friends, locked up and forgotten. But 
 not here," she added, laughingly, " I don't wish to 
 be forgotten here." 
 
 " Some one has said, and very wisely you will 
 think. Miss Ratcliffe, if such be your feehngs," 
 rephed Julian, " w^ere I to pray for a taste which 
 should stand me instead under every variety of 
 circumstance, and be a source of happiness and
 
 200 CONSTANCY. 
 
 of cheerfulness to me through life, and a shield 
 against all its ills, however things might go amiss, 
 it should be a taste for reading."^ 
 
 " And do you agree in this declaration ?" asked 
 Mercedes. " You would not exchange your own 
 taste, and accept this in preference ?" 
 
 " Perhaps not," replied Julian, with a smile ; 
 *'but still I doubt not which of the two would 
 confer the greatest peace : that which is least 
 ambitious ; for believe me, ambition is one of those 
 feelings ' qui troublent singulierement la vie.' " 
 
 " But you," returned Mercedes, with a look of 
 though tfulness, " never would be unambitious, 
 apply your mind as you would ; you would not be 
 able to read unambitiously. Genius has a besoi7i 
 de creer which renders it restless." 
 
 So many thoughts occurred to each of them on 
 the subjection which they had fallen, that they felt it 
 useless to attempt to pursue it, and were content 
 to turn their attention to things around them. As 
 they walked through the rooms, they paused to 
 remark the plan of Michel Angelo, for the facade of 
 St. Peter's, which is preserved in one of the paintings 
 on the wall, and to regret that it had not been 
 preferred to the one adopted ; and observed with 
 curiosity the representation of Fontana's machine for 
 the erection of the obelisk that stands in the Piazza. 
 
 Julian failed not to lead their attention to the 
 ceihng which is painted by Guido representing the 
 deeds of Samson ; and as they gazed up at it, in that 
 * Macintosh.
 
 CONSTANCY. 20 1 
 
 painful admiration which a finely painted ceiling 
 always exacts, Lord Sylvester said to them : 
 
 " How much the painter's representation and 
 the poet's description of this redoubtable hero 
 agree. Do you not immediately think of Milton's 
 lines portraying 
 
 The heroic, the renowned 
 
 Irresistible Samson ? whom unarmed 
 
 No strength of man or fiercest wild beast^could withstand ; 
 
 Who tore the lion, as the lion tears the kid ; 
 
 Ran on embattled armies clad in iron ; 
 
 And, weaponless himself. 
 
 Made arms ridiculous — 
 
 And here he is when he 
 
 By main force pulled up, and on his shoulders bore 
 The gates of Azza, post, and massy bar. 
 Up to the hill by Hebron, seat of giants old, 
 No journey of a sabbath-day, and loaded so. 
 Like whom the Gentiles fain to bear up Heaven. 
 
 One might suppose that the poet or the painter 
 designed in their different languages to speak the 
 thoughts of the other." 
 
 Of course our party did not quit these apart- 
 ments without surveying the celebrated Nozze 
 Aldobrandini which are now preserved there. 
 
 K 3
 
 202 CONSTANCY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Internal powers 
 Active and strong, and feelingly alive 
 To each fine impulse. 
 
 These, nor gems, nor stores of gold. 
 Nor purple state, nor culture can bestovi^ ; 
 But God alone w^hen first His active hand 
 Imprints the secret bias of the soul. 
 
 AKENSIDE. 
 
 You are a painter ; one of many fancies : 
 You can call up past deeds, and make them live 
 On the blank canvass. coleridge. 
 
 The next day while Mercedes was sitting to 
 Julian for her picturej she asked him if he had 
 not been interested by Lord Sylvester's reference 
 to the harmony existing between poets and painters. 
 " It has made me," she said, " think a great 
 deal of the affinity between the two, and re-echo 
 Wordsworth's words ; in doing which, my mind 
 has literally acted the part of an echo, repeating 
 the sound only, without reference to the sense ; for 
 with that, I do not entirely agree. The idea of 
 the existence of ' an inglorious Milton' has been 
 always, inconceivable to me. I do not credit it. 
 But I do believe that 
 
 Many are the Poets that are so^\ti 
 
 By Nature ; men endov^^ed with highest gifts. 
 
 The vision and the faculty divine ; 
 
 Yet wanting the accomplishment of verse.
 
 CONSTANCY. 203 
 
 Poetry has been defined, — and is not the definition 
 satisfactory as 'the language of the imagination and 
 the passions?' These can speak, oh, how audibly ! 
 through the medium of painting and music, as 
 well as verse. In fact, words, pictures, and music 
 are the three instruments of giving expression to 
 poetry. A poet may choose which of the three 
 he will prefer, and whoever successfully employs 
 either, is a poet. Will you agree with me in this ?" 
 " Yes," rephed Julian, and Mercedes went on : 
 " There will be much difference of opinion as to 
 which of these instruments is most powerful, and 
 best adapted to give utterance to the conceptions 
 of the poet. Here physical causes will probably 
 decide individuals in their choice : such as the gift 
 of a fine ear for music, a fine eye for colour : those 
 who are thus naturally qualified to attain excellence 
 by the one means, may be quite unable to reach it 
 by the others ; and though a painter, a musician, a 
 writer of verses may be equally great poets, they 
 may be unable to rival each other in their different 
 branches." 
 
 " Do not, for the glory of Italy," said Julian, 
 " pass over in silence the fact that some of her 
 children have been gifted with the requisites for 
 excellence in all. Do not forget the incomparable 
 talents of Leonardo da Vinci, throwing into the 
 shade all the half authenticated tales of the Admir- 
 able Crichton; nor the offspring of the pens of 
 Michel Angelo, and of Salvator Rosa, as worthy to 
 live, as those of their chisel and their brush. I
 
 204 CONSTANCY. 
 
 would also entreat you to observe, for the credit 
 of my art, that those men who presented such a 
 rare combination of talents, and thus successfully 
 invaded a rival territory, were all par excellence 
 painters." 
 
 " True," answered Mercedes; " but I am about to 
 give utterance to an opinion which I fear you will 
 not pardon me for entertaining ; and yet the very 
 argument by which I see you intend to prove a 
 contrary one, seems to me to give confirmation to 
 mine. With regard to the merits of these instru- 
 ments, surely one, that of words, possesses powers 
 incontestably greatest, and he who alive to this 
 truth, ventures to grasp them in the belief that he 
 will not be crushed by them, but will be able to 
 subject them to his purpose, proves that he has 
 a more comprehensive intellect, a vaster, and more 
 vigorous genius than those who are content with 
 the qualities possessed by the others. 
 
 " It seems to me, that to him the universe offers 
 all its treasures; to the others it imparts some 
 precious gifts, but does not lay open all its stores, 
 knowing that they could not bear them away. For 
 is not this remark perfectly true ? ' That there is no 
 thought nor feeling that can enter into the mind 
 of man, that he can be eager to communicate to 
 others, and that they would listen to with delight, 
 that is not a fit subject for poetry ?' Yet you 
 cannot hesitate to allow that the poet-painter, and the 
 poet-musician must have many thoughts and feel- 
 ings which he knows it to be impossible to develope
 
 CONSTANCY. 205 
 
 by means of his art. And does not your remark 
 contain a confession that painters of a peculiarly 
 elevated mind have been forced to have recourse to 
 words, while those who had already chosen them as 
 the vehicles of their thoughts, felt no need to seek 
 the aid of pictures to give them an adequate ex- 
 pression ? 
 
 "These ideas are strengthened in me by the 
 circumstance, that one day, after reading a favourite 
 passage in Dante, I turned over Flaxman's most 
 exquisite illustrations of the Divina Commedia, and 
 found that he had made no attempt to embody it. 
 I should like very much to read to you the lines 
 I mean ; not to make a convert of you to my 
 opinion, but to give you the pleasure of feeling 
 its beauty. It is not one of the best known pas- 
 sages, nor is it very long. Will you give me the 
 book; I see it lying on your table. It is one of 
 your chosen companions." 
 
 Julian willingly complied with her request, and 
 she quickly found the lines of which she had 
 spoken. As she read, the accents of her voice, 
 which was one of peculiar sweetness and feeling, 
 brought home all the poet's meaning to his 
 heart.* 
 
 * Maestro, dissi lui, or mi di' anche : 
 
 Questa fortuna di che tu mi tocche, 
 
 Che e, che i ben del mondo ha si tra branche ? 
 
 E quegU a me : O creature sciocche. 
 
 Quanta ignoranza e quella che v' otFende ! 
 
 Or vo' che tu mia sentenza ne' mbocche. [Cohii
 
 206 CONSTANCY. 
 
 " I have always," said Mercedes, looking up 
 from the book which she still held open in her 
 hand, " thought this personification of Fortune 
 so touchingly beautiful, and so impossible to be 
 expressed but by these words of the poet ! How 
 different is this Christian poet's conception of her 
 to that of the heathen: how sublime and how 
 consolatory is it, while theirs would only give 
 birth to the apathy of the fatalist and the stoic. 
 Dante has painted a creature armed with great and 
 irresistible power, but yet inspiring trust and con- 
 
 Colui lo saver tutto trascende, 
 Fece li cieli, e die lor chi conduce, 
 Si ch'ogni parte ad ogni parte splende, 
 Distribuendo egualmeiite la luce : 
 Similmente agli splendor mondani 
 Ordino general ministra e duce, 
 Che permutasse a tempo li ben vani, 
 Di gente in gente, e d' uno in altro sangue, 
 Oitre la difension de' senni umani : 
 Perch'una gente impera e 1' altra langue, 
 Seguendo lo giudicio di costei, 
 died e occulto com' in erba langue. 
 Vostro saver non ha contrasto a lei : 
 Ella provvede, giudica, e persegue 
 Suo regno, come il loro gli altri Dei. 
 Le sue permutazion non hanno triegue : 
 Necessita la fa esser veloce ; 
 Si spesso bien chi vicenda consegue — 
 Quest' e colei ch' e tanto posta in croce 
 Pur da color che le dovrian dar lode, 
 Dandole biasmo a torto e mala voce. 
 Ma ella s' e beata, e cio non ode : 
 Con r altre prime creature lieta 
 Volve sua spera, e beata si gode." 
 
 l' inferxo.
 
 CONSTANCY. 20? 
 
 fidence rather than terror, through our knowledge 
 that she is actuated by 
 
 A pure submission to the ruling mind. 
 
 She is represented as deaf to our cries and our depre- 
 cations, as we well know her to be ; for how many 
 would reverse her decrees were it possible to wrest 
 her authority from her hand. But even this cir- 
 cumstance gives us a very different impression of 
 her to that made by the recklessness of the 
 blind goddess of heathen mythology. The one 
 appears inflexible in the performance of the behests 
 of the Most High ; the other insensible of, and indif- 
 ferent to human sufferings, of which she makes an 
 idle game. And when the poet goes on to de- 
 scribe the imperturbable joy with which she fulfils 
 her task, he gives her, I think, one of the most 
 signal characteristics of a heavenly creature. How 
 difficult it is to our inferior natures to persist with 
 unruffled serenity in the execution of what we 
 know to be our duty, if beset by those who 
 reprove, who upbraid, who threaten, who implore. 
 This description of her untroubled peace in doing 
 the will of Him who appoints her task, seems 
 to me to give us a glimpse of Heaven, and to 
 reveal to us, as it were, something of the nature of 
 its promised joys." 
 
 While Mercedes spoke, her countenance w^ore 
 an expression of the fervent hope of the look- 
 ing on of the believer to the bliss to come. 
 Julian regarded it in silent emotion, wliich ren- 
 dered him unable for awhile to reply.
 
 208 CONSTANCY. 
 
 When he spoke, he said : 
 
 " Of what you say, I feel and acknowledge the 
 truth; but let me speak to you of a delight alike 
 enjoyed by poet, painter, and musician ; by the 
 latter, perhaps, in the highest degree for a time, 
 but only for a time ; for him it is not enduring, and 
 can any thing deteriorate a pleasure so much as the 
 sense of its evanescence ? I allude to the power 
 of awakening sympathy with feelings such as 
 you express. Do not ordinary men deem themselves 
 happy if they can inspire their own sentiments in 
 the bosoms of a few of those who encircle them ? 
 If the intimate feelings of their hearts meet 
 with a response in the eyes that read them, if the 
 thoughts of their minds are comprehended by a 
 few of those who witness their development ? Is 
 it not universally declared to be the greatest ingre- 
 dient of happiness to find ' thought, feeling, taste, 
 harmonious to our own ?' Is not this truest 
 source of bliss more open, and deeper, and 
 wider for the poet and the painter than for any 
 other human beings, even than for any other of 
 the children of genius ? Will not their imperish- 
 able works prove a link to unite them, not only to 
 the few who love and know them in life, to whom 
 their visible presence is dear — but bind them indis- 
 solubly to every heart and soul that share their as- 
 pirations after perfection, that can understand their 
 pure and noble conceptions, that melt with the 
 same tenderness, glow with the same ardour? 
 Did not Raphael feel, when he embodied all that is 
 mild and pure, gracious and excellent, spiritual and
 
 CONSTANCY. 209 
 
 devout, in his representation of the Virgin Mother; — 
 did he not know that he was then speaking in an 
 audible voice to all among those who in every 
 age flock to render homage to his matchless works, 
 who had hearts to feel, and minds to conceive 
 the purity and beauty of the character of her who 
 was Blessed among women ? Was he not assured 
 that he could not fail to engage the sympathy, 
 to awaken the gratitude, to win the love of all 
 such, whenever this, the work of his hand, the 
 creation of his mind, should meet their eyes ?" 
 
 "Do you think," asked Mercedes, who heard 
 him with interest, " that those who are endowed 
 with these great gifts of genius, are of all men 
 the happiest ?" 
 
 " Alas, no !" replied Julian ; " that delicacy of 
 feeling and liveliness of imagination which they 
 necessarily possess destroy their peace. 
 
 More wounds than nature gives they know. 
 
 I believe in the assertion that ' le poete a une 
 malediction sur sa vie, et une benediction sur 
 son nom.'' And yet who would not desire their 
 vocation ?" 
 
 " Who, indeed !" repeated Mercedes ; and 
 thoughtfulness overspread both their countenances.
 
 210 CONSTANCY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 You lay out too much pains for purchasing but trouble. 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 The fame of Wilmot's picture, as it approached 
 completion, spread through all circles, and the 
 general curiosity to see it was heightened by the 
 interest with which Miss Ratcliffe's beauty invested 
 it. Every one flocked to the young painter's studio ; 
 Lady Sylvester and even Wentworth were gratified 
 by the celebrity their young companion thus 
 acquired, and Mrs. Annesly Marchmont's supre- 
 macy in respect to beauty was no longer undis- 
 puted. 
 
 Neither Julian nor Mercedes derived unmixed 
 pleasure from this triumphant success. The 
 notoriety that followed it was distressing to the 
 retiring modesty of the latter, though she consoled 
 herself by the reflection that the penalty she thus 
 paid was advantageous to the young artist; and 
 Julian, while it afforded him some pleasure that 
 the first work of his that had challenged universal 
 attention, should be the portrait of her he loved, 
 still shrank from beholding her beauty scrutinized 
 by other eyes. 
 
 Soon after his picture became the common topic 
 of conversation, Julian, at an assembly in which
 
 CONSTANCY. 211 
 
 were congregated all those who throughout the 
 season had met together on such occasions, 
 found himself in the vicinity of Mrs. Annesly 
 Marchmont, whom he was led particularly to 
 observe, by perceiving that, after looking around 
 with an air of haughty unconcern she fixed her 
 eyes with a stare of scrutiny on Miss Ratcliffe. 
 Her stedfast gaze seemed meant to declare that 
 she was in vain attempting to discover the cause 
 of the admiration that was so generally avowed for 
 her ; and the look of contemptuous indifference 
 which she at the same time wore, Julian easily 
 guessed to be assumed in order to conceal the 
 inward mortification which this prolonged sui^vey 
 of her youthful rival's unfaded charms could scarcely 
 fail to excite. 
 
 To his great surprise, he saw the haughty beauty 
 at length turn from Mercedes to himself, and then 
 speak a few words to Wentworth, who was in 
 possession of his usual station at her side. He 
 advanced, bat with an evident look of displeasure, 
 and approaching him took his arm, saying with 
 an abruptness that showed how little he considered 
 him: 
 
 " Corne with me, Wilmot, for Mrs. Annesly 
 Marchmont has sent for you. The fame of your 
 skill has reached her ears and she desires to have 
 you presented to her." 
 
 Julian, equally displeased with Arundel's manner, 
 and averse to the lady, would willingly have refused 
 compliance ; but knowing such a proceeding to be
 
 212 CONSTANCY. 
 
 too glaring a dereliction of politeness to be practi- 
 cable, he allowed Wentworth to conduct him to her. 
 After the introduction had taken place, he stood in 
 silence beside her, until she should choose to confer 
 the further honour upon him of addressing him. 
 The haughty lady merely interpreted the painter's 
 taciturnity as the natural effect of timid confusion, 
 inspired by the notice she had already bestowed on 
 him ; and now with one of her blandest smiles, such 
 as was rarely lavished on any who d^ired them, 
 being reserved rather to rivet chains that were on 
 the point of breaking, or to gild them for those 
 who seemed unwilling to endure their weight, she 
 began to speak in a voice ' musical as is Apollo's 
 lyre.' 
 
 " Mr. Wilmot, may I have permission to visit 
 your studio ? I am most impatient to view 
 works so universally admired; but I feel scarcely 
 authorized to intrude on hours so well employed 
 merely for the gratification of an ignorant curiosity. 
 Had I the power of offering those valuable remarks 
 which you must often gather from such a dilettante 
 as Lord Sylvester, I might flatter myself that my 
 visits would be desired ; but I fear that you reap 
 only vexation from the crowd of idlers who flock 
 around you, prodigal of admiration, which has 
 been taught them by the initiated, rather than 
 inspired by what they see with their own eyes. 
 Half the spontaneous praises which they utter are 
 rendered as much to the pretty face which has 
 happened to form yoiu* subject, as to the rare
 
 CONSTANCY. 213 
 
 talent which you have displayed in the execution 
 of it." 
 
 Julian smiled, and venturing to interrupt the 
 lady for a moment, replied : 
 
 " In this they show excellent judgment. I cer- 
 tainly do not yet presume to suppose that I equal 
 the beauties of nature." 
 
 Mrs. Annesly Marchmont did not appear to 
 listen to this remark, but continued with increas- 
 ing sw^eetness : 
 
 " AU your countrymen owe you much gratitude, 
 Mr. Wilmot, for it is very delightful to see an 
 Enghshman bear away the laurels which these vain 
 Italians would arrogate the sole right to wear. 
 You must surely feel great pleasure in thus giving 
 us a right to be proud of you." 
 
 To this ingenious compliment Julian could only 
 reply by a bow. The further favom's which Mrs. 
 Annesly Marchmont intended to confer upon him 
 were quite beyond his anticipation; and she was 
 prepared to find him, w^hen made acquainted with 
 them, unable to express his gratitude in any ade- 
 quate terms. With an appearance of humility 
 and much empressement, she again entreated him 
 to tell her when she might come to see his 
 paintings. 
 
 " Not only this portrait," she said in a tone that 
 w'as meant to incite the painter to think that his 
 other works were unjustly cast into the shade 
 by the notice which it attracted to itself, " but 
 all on which you have been employed during
 
 214 CONSTANCY. 
 
 the winter. I have heard of many other produc- 
 tions that more than equally demand admiration." 
 (Unfortunately she did not know any one of which 
 she could speak.) " Portrait painting," she con- 
 tinued, retreating from that part of the subject 
 which she knew not how to enter on successfully, 
 " commands such extensive patronage in England, 
 that of course the attainment of extraordinary ex- 
 cellence in it would meet with such readiness of en- 
 couragement that would dispose you to pursue it." 
 
 Julian replied, as she paused for a moment : 
 
 " Pardon me, 1 do not think that I shall ever 
 practise it again; except it were to preserve for 
 myself a memorial of a friend, or to gratify the 
 wishes of one. I shall never pursue a branch of 
 my art which is so little qualified to accomplish 
 the wishes I entertain." 
 
 " Indeed !" returned Mrs. Annesly Marchmont, 
 with a smile, not at all allowing this declaration to 
 interfere with her design. " Your ambition then 
 soars high; so it ought — especially in undisap- 
 pointed youth. But once more must your skiU be 
 employed on a very unworthy subject. You will 
 not refuse me the request I am about to make. 
 You will consent to paint my portrait before you 
 abandon the occupation for ever ?" 
 
 And as she asked this question, her countenance 
 told how much she expected the painter to be 
 elated ; how little she feared that she could be 
 refused. But Julian, though taken by surprise, and 
 now first enlightened as to the purpose of all the
 
 CONSTANCY. 2 1 5 
 
 lady's fair speeches, was not long at a loss how to 
 reply. 
 
 " To refuse a request," he said respectfully, " is 
 always painful ; but the pain may be greatly less- 
 ened by the knowledge that the refusal inflicts no 
 injury, but indeed quite the contrary. A young 
 and almost obscure artist, such as I am, cannot feel 
 sufficiently grateful for the unsolicited offer of 
 patronage from one whose notice confers fame, as 
 in the circle of society here Mrs. Annesly March- 
 mont's could not fail to do ; but my sense of the 
 fact that I as little deserve such distinction as I 
 have ventured to seek it, makes me aware that the 
 only line of conduct which it becomes me to foUow, 
 is at once most respectfully to decline it. Miss 
 Ratcliffe's father has long been the friend of my 
 family, and my most munificent benefactor. As 
 a slight token of gratitude T offer him this picture, 
 and am aware that imperfections in it wiU be 
 leniently regarded by him, when he considers it as 
 the work of my hand. I have not the same claims 
 to the indulgence of others ; and my only desire 
 is to convince Mrs. Annesly Marchmont as fully as 
 I am myself convinced, that if she w^ould possess a 
 picture at all worthy of herself, there are many 
 other studios in Rome in which she can be far 
 better gratified." 
 
 Mrs. Annesly Marchmont listened to the com- 
 mencement of this speech with polite attention. 
 She expected the young painter to be overpow^ered 
 at the first contemplation of the task proposed to
 
 2 1 6 CONSTANCY. 
 
 him, and modestly to disclaim his power to perform 
 it. But the length of Julian's answer rendered 
 her rather impatient, and the quiet firmness of his 
 manner seemed so unlike the effect of timid irre- 
 solution that she began to Hsten with doubt, though 
 still with incredulity. When she rephed, it was 
 with scarcely an attempt to conceal her haughty 
 displeasure. 
 
 '* I might admire the humility of your speech, 
 Mr. Wilmot, but that it leads me to infer that you 
 doubt my capacity to select for myself the person 
 best calculated to execute my wishes. Now, do 
 you know," she continued, again relaxing into a 
 smile, " that it seems to me very conceited of you 
 to think your generally acknowledged fame un- 
 deserved ?" 
 
 " Believe me," returned Juhan, " it is as you 
 yourself judiciously pointed out. In this instance 
 half the praise that I have won was in reality 
 owing to the remarkable beauty of my subject." 
 
 Mrs. Annesly Marchmont at this reply bit her 
 lips, and looked more angry than before ; she 
 answered drily : — 
 
 " I do not remember to have made the judicious 
 remark that you attribute to me. It sounds to me 
 more like one of Lord Sylvester's critiques.'^ 
 
 She paused, and Julian was in hopes that she 
 would now permit him to retreat ; to both it was 
 perceptible that their lengthened coaversation had 
 excited observation and curiosity, and Mrs. Annesly 
 Marchmont, feeling not quite sure whether the
 
 CONSTANCY. 2 1 7 
 
 painter was in earnest, or merely displaying a mock 
 humility ; but certainly not pleased with the manner 
 in which he had received her flattering intelligence, 
 and anxious above all things that, if she failed, her 
 attempt should remain unknown, resolved no longer 
 to prolong the discourse, and saying : 
 
 " To-morrow you may expect a visit from me, 
 and we will then settle all preliminaries," dismissed 
 him with a bow. Before he could proffer any 
 reply, she was engaged a-fresh in conversation, and 
 Jtdian moved unreluctantly away ; though con- 
 scious of the meaning of her last words, he had 
 no dread of being beguiled of his resolution by any 
 of the lady's artifices. He felt that no inducement 
 could tempt him to employ his pencil in the service 
 of Mercedes' rival, to whom he had an aversion so 
 lively, that he knew that he had been but honest 
 in declaring that he could never execute a portrait 
 of her, which it would give her any pleasure to 
 possess. 
 
 " What !" said Lord Sylvester as he passed him 
 in the crowd, " are you too gone over to the 
 enemy ? Et tu, Brute .?" 
 
 Julian started, for he had not observed his friend. 
 
 " Indeed, " he replied, seeing him desirous 
 to pause, and hsten to an explanation of the cir- 
 cumstance which had excited his curiosity, " an 
 un\\illing obedience to a peremptory summons can 
 hardly be construed into an act of treason." 
 
 " Have you really been thus highly favoured ? 
 Wentworth, I suppose, is so charmed with your 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 CONSTANCY. 
 
 last attempt that he deems you worthy of the 
 highest patronage, for he it was who conducted 
 you to the feet of the supreme arhitress of fashion." 
 
 " I was not only thus highly favoured, but much 
 more highly favoured. Some, you know, have 
 honour thrust upon them; in this case neither 
 deserved, nor desired. What should you think 
 of so proud a beauty requesting me to paint her 
 portrait ?" 
 
 " What ! that she might in all things rival my 
 mother's fair protegee I When are you to com- 
 mence this formidable undertaking ?" 
 
 " Never." 
 
 " Do you mean that you refused acquiescence ?" 
 demanded Lord Sylvester in a tone of pleasure. 
 
 " Yes," answered Julian drily. 
 
 " You have, upon my word, been very rash and 
 very daring." 
 
 " Why so ? I am not a portrait painter ; Ray- 
 mond is. I have told you already my reasons for 
 willingly undertaking Miss Ratcliife's picture, but 
 in this instance, I am uninfluenced by any similar 
 motives." 
 
 " You must be aware that you are throwing 
 away great nieans of coming forward into notice. 
 You are, in fact, acting with your usual impru- 
 dence," said Lord Sylvester, ironically. 
 
 " Be it so," replied Julian with a smile, " and 
 as usual I must withstand your friendly admoni- 
 tions." 
 
 Julian saw plainly that Lord Sylvester felt a
 
 CONSTANCY, 219 
 
 satisfaction at his conduct which he was scarcely at 
 the pains to conceal. He had a secret conviction 
 that to Mercedes it would not be less pleasing, and 
 he now looked around to see where she was, and 
 how occupied. He had observed of late that her 
 vivacity was frequently interrupted by seasons of 
 thoughtful silence, which seemed to him occa- 
 sioned by some secret uneasiness. These passing 
 clouds cast a shade over her youthful joyousness. 
 The chill they imparted to the warmth of her 
 sunny smiles was perhaps scarcely felt by those 
 who enjoyed only a trifling pleasure when basking 
 in their beams ; but to Julian this gloom was per- 
 ceptible, however transitory : eager to ascertain 
 its cause, he watched her narrowly, and as ten- 
 derly as a mother could watch a drooping child ; 
 and earnestly did he wish that his mother could be 
 by her, to win from her the cause of her des- 
 pondency, and remove her care by timely counsels. 
 To-night she appeared to be more depressed 
 than he had ever seen her before, and he could not 
 be satisfied without making an attempt to speak to 
 her. Having at last succeeded in gaining her side, 
 he said in a low voice : 
 
 " You are not well this evening. Miss RatclifFe, 
 I fear." 
 
 " Why do you say so ?" she replied starting. 
 
 " You have pressed your hand to your forehead 
 so many times. Besides you must remember that 
 I am now so well acquainted with your countenance 
 that I can see every change in it." 
 
 L 2
 
 220 CONSTANCY. 
 
 " Indeed ! I shall always turn away from you 
 if that be the case," answered Mercedes with a 
 smile. 
 
 Almost fearful of giving offence, Julian hesitated, 
 but could not refrain from adding in an earnest voice: 
 
 " There are then changes, Miss Ratcliffe, which 
 even you would disguise ? Pardon me," he said 
 hastily, seeing that his rash inquiry caused 
 Mercedes to change colour, and that she paused 
 as if unable to reply ; but she immediately regained 
 her composure and answered, not without a tinge 
 of melancholy : 
 
 " People expect much more vivacity from me 
 than I possess. If I am serious, they always seem 
 to think me sad." 
 
 " You used to be rarely serious ; at least, on 
 such occasions as these," said Julian. " None were 
 so gay." 
 
 " Yes," replied Mercedes ; "I am gay and yet 
 sometimes sad too. * II est hien difficile de n^Mre 
 pas serieux au fond, si ce fond n'est pas, comme 
 dans quelques gens, a la superficie.' Perhaps," 
 she added laughing, "many do me the injustice 
 to suppose that such is the case with me, and 
 that, therefore, I never ought to be serious." 
 
 Then changing the subject suddenly and trying 
 to speak with an air of carelessness, Mercedes said : 
 
 "I see that you also are acquainted with Mrs. 
 Annesly Marchmont. I saw you talk to her for 
 some time. TeU me, is her conversation so brilliant, 
 her manner so fascinating as they are said to be ?"
 
 CONSTANCY. 221 
 
 Why did ; Mercedes make this inquiry so ear- 
 nestly in spite of herself? Did she alike discern 
 and dread the influence of her rival's charms on 
 Arundel's heart ? As this suspicion passed through 
 Julian's breast, it caused him a bitter pang ; but 
 he was willing on any terms to convey pleasure to 
 Mercedes, and he answered promptly : 
 
 " I do not discover in what her attractions lie, 
 for there is an affectation in all she does ; an 
 appearance of dissimulation in all she says ; and 
 in the sweetest of her smiles, there lurks a haugh- 
 tiness, that disfigures even her beautiful face. I 
 never was addressed by her before this evening, 
 and she sent for me to ask to see your picture to- 
 mon'ow." 
 
 "And did you consent?" inquired Mercedes, 
 almost as if she hoped that he had refused. 
 
 " I could not decline her proposed visit to my 
 studio," replied Julian ; " but I did refuse her next 
 request, which was to paint her portrait." 
 
 Mercedes did not speak, but her face beamed 
 with satisfaction; then, as if with self-reproach, 
 she exclaimed : 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. Wilmot, why did you do so ?" 
 (though Mercedes asked this question, she felt why 
 Julian had refused ; he regarded with indignation 
 the woman who sought to injure her). "You 
 will make her your enemy !" 
 
 She spoke as if she dreaded her enmity. 
 
 " Scarcely, I should think," replied Julian, " and 
 if she be, how can she injure me ?"
 
 222 CONSTANCY. 
 
 " I should not like to know that she was so," 
 said Mercedes thoughtfully. 
 
 " If she take offence, I cannot help it ; I can- 
 not act differently," and then Wilniot repeated 
 all that he had said to Mrs. Annesly Marchmont ; 
 but Mercedes shook her head, and looked still 
 alarmed. 
 
 " I would not, if I were you, make public her 
 request, nor your refusal. Do not add to it useless 
 provocation." 
 
 " Indeed this caution, for which I thank you, 
 was needless. I am not vain enough, Miss Rat- 
 cliffe, to wish to boast of her proffered patronage." 
 
 Julian left Mercedes to find Lord Sylvester, and 
 to ask him not to repeat the communication which 
 he had made to him. Lord Sylvester laughed, 
 and congratulated him on this acquisition of pru- 
 dence.
 
 CONSTANCY. 223 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Harm not yourself with your vexation. I 
 Am senseless of your wrath ; a touch more rare 
 Subdues — all fears. 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 The following morning Mrs. Annesly March- 
 mont drove to Wilmot's studio, impatient to as- 
 certain if he could really dare to provoke her 
 wrath hy persisting in his refusal, or whether 
 his refusal had never been seriously given; but 
 this she could not bring herself to think, though 
 she wished to do so. However, discarding her 
 secret misgivings, she entered the room armed 
 with an air of undoubting assurance of success, 
 and prepared to lavish as many more praises on 
 the artist as she thought would ensure his acqui- 
 escence in her wishes. Mrs. Annesly Marchmont, 
 could she have felt more secure on the score of 
 Julian's final obedience to her commands, would, 
 (knowing that such a proceeding could not but be 
 peculiarly galling to Lady Sylvester and wounding 
 to Miss Ratcliffe,) have insisted on Wentworth's 
 attendance on this occasion. But as it was, she 
 preferred going alone, and therefore forbid his 
 presence, taking care to do so in a manner that 
 made the relinquishment of it appear to him an 
 act of merit, and rendered him more than ever
 
 224 CONSTANCY. 
 
 disposed to condemn his mother's unjustifiable 
 animadversions on the conduct of Mrs. Annesly 
 Marchmont in general, and towards himself in 
 particular. 
 
 Julian, with unofficious politeness, displayed to 
 his visitor those paintings which he usually exhi- 
 bited to strangers with whose pretensions to taste 
 and judgment he was unacquainted. The portrait 
 of Mercedes he would have kept veiled from her 
 envious gaze, if he could ; but of course this was 
 impossible. It was the object of her visit, and it 
 was only her unwillingness to mortify the artist, 
 that induced her to give any consideration to the 
 other productions of his pencil. After a close 
 scrutiny of Miss Ratcliffe's picture and the most 
 lavish commendations of its excellence, she recurred 
 to the request which she had made the preceding 
 evening. 
 
 " I am more than ever bent on obtaining my 
 wish ; nor can you venture, Mr. Wilmot, with such 
 a witness as that against you, to repeat the very 
 pretty and proper professions of inability to which 
 you forced me to listen last night," she said, 
 pointing with a smile to Mercedes' portrait. 
 
 Julian bowed to her compliment, but respect- 
 fully repeated in language which admitted of 
 no further misconstruction of his meaning, that he 
 was still compelled to decline the honour proposed 
 to him. 
 
 *' Unfortunately," he said, " he had not even 
 the time at his command that was necessary to
 
 CONSTANCY. 225 
 
 authorise any hbpes of success, for he was contem- 
 plating a journey to Naples as soon as Lent should 
 begin. He still declared his conviction that his 
 refusal would not deprive Mrs. Annesly March- 
 mont of any thing at all worthy to be in her pos- 
 session, and he hoped that she would consent 
 to beheve in this consolatory truth." 
 
 The lady reddened with displeasure, and then 
 turned pale with increasing anger. She felt that 
 she had already compromised her dignity by 
 her eager pursuit of that which was denied her. 
 Command, not supplication, became her lips ; but 
 she knew it would be equally unavailing. She 
 rose to depart, and approached the picture to 
 look at it more nearly. Suddenly turning to- 
 wards the painter, and fixing her brilliant eyes 
 upon him with a look full of threatening, and with 
 a malicious smile she said in a mocking voice, leav- 
 ing him by her whole demeanour uncertain how far 
 she was in earnest : 
 
 " Some would deem this an act of folly and 
 of insolence which ought not to go unpunished. 
 Have you no fear that favour rejected should be ill- 
 will earned? Should not you dread to make 
 me your enemy ?" 
 
 She stopped as abruptly as she had commenced; 
 she wished to startle, to subdue, to awaken a vague 
 fear in the young painter. Julian heard her with 
 amazement indeed, but with quiet self-possession 
 he replied : 
 
 **I win not anticipate so much injustice from 
 
 L 3
 
 226 CONSTANCY. 
 
 Mrs. Annesly Marchmont as lasting indignation 
 would be ; nor flatter myself that I am of sufficient 
 importance to awaken even a momentary feeling of 
 the kind." 
 
 " I have hated what I have also despised before 
 now," replied Mrs. Annesly Marchmont, her beau- 
 tiful face suddenly disfigured by an expression 
 of concentrated bitterness and anger that filled 
 Julian with disgust, " and a day may come when I 
 may remember your refusal." 
 
 She swept past him as she spoke, and reached 
 her carriage before he recovered sufficient self-pos- 
 session to remember that he ought to have prof- 
 fered his services in conducting her to it. 
 
 To Mercedes, Julian did not repeat this extraor- 
 dinary conversation. He felt that it would pain 
 her to hear that any woman had behaved in such a 
 manner, even though the woman who disgraced 
 herself by this violence, was her rival. To Lord 
 Sylvester he related her strange words under 
 a promise of secrecy. Lord Sylvester replied, after 
 a short silence, with a dryness of manner peculiar 
 to him when his conviction was complete : 
 
 " Depend upon it that she wiU some day injure 
 you : but it is too late to conciliate now." 
 
 To this last remark, Julian cordially agreed. 
 When next he saw Mrs. Annesly Marchmont he 
 was informed that she was about to leave Rome 
 the following day, and she was in consequence 
 surrounded by those whom her departure reduced 
 to despair Wentworth was present, but he was
 
 CONSTANCY. 227 
 
 more guarded in the expression of his devotion 
 than usual. 
 
 Julian, much to his surprise, discovered that in 
 the interval which had elapsed since he had seen 
 them together, Mrs. Annesly Marchmont had 
 made the acquaintance of Mercedes, for when she 
 departed she came to the spot where Miss Rat- 
 cliffe stood, and he himself beside her ; and taking 
 her hand, without regarding the reluctance with 
 w^hich it was yielded, said, with a smile that forcibly 
 reminded Julian of the last he had seen on her lips: 
 
 " Farewell, Miss RatcMe ; I trust we shall meet 
 again in our travels homeward." 
 
 As she moved on, her dress actually touched 
 him, yet she did not recognize him by word 
 or look. 
 
 Mercedes, when she was passed, drawing her 
 breath as if inexpressibly relieved, murmured in 
 a low voice, which, however, reached Julian's ear : 
 
 " She will be gone to-morrow !" 
 
 JuUan heard these words with regret, for in her 
 departure he saw the removal of the strongest 
 barrier that existed between Mercedes and Went- 
 worth.
 
 228 CONSTANCY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 To feel for trifles a distracting train 
 Of hopes and terrors equally in vain. 
 
 AKENSIDE. 
 
 I, under fair pretence of friendly ends, 
 And well-placed words of glozifig courtesy, 
 Baited with reasons not unplausible, 
 Wind me into the easy-hearted man, 
 And hug him into snares. 
 
 COMUS. 
 
 It was impossible that Julian should continue to 
 meet Miss Ratcliffe in general society without 
 perpetually enduring the pangs of jealous fear, 
 awakened by beholding her surrounded by many 
 entitled to be openly her suitors. He per- 
 ceived that her beauty, her unaffected vivacity, and 
 noble simplicity of character touched those hearts 
 that were capable of feeling disinterested passion ; 
 while the reputation of her wealth attracted every 
 idle fortune hunter, whom the possession of an 
 empty title, or of noble blood, or merely of an arro- 
 gance not to be daunted, led to flatter themselves 
 that they also had a right to dispute the prize. 
 "While Mrs. Annesly Marchmont was in Rome, 
 Julian frequently heard of and witnessed Arunders 
 devotion to her ; and this he flattered himself was 
 incompatible with any definite engagement with Miss
 
 CONSTANCY. 229 
 
 Ratcliffe. Still he had from the first seen enough to 
 convince him of the desire entertained by Lady Syl- 
 vester to effect one, which in one respect made her 
 act (unknowingly of course) as his friend rather than 
 as his enemy. It led her sedulously to watch the ad- 
 vances of that crowd of admirers who caused unea- 
 siness to both alike, and as far as she ventured, 
 to discourage them. 
 
 Among those who had lately awakened Julian's 
 suspicions, was a young Irish Baronet, Sir Alfred 
 Rayleigh, who had lately arrived at Rome. 
 
 Prepossessing in person and manner, generous 
 and warm-hearted in no common measure, his 
 countenance bespoke the amiability of his disposi- 
 tion, but was little expressive of any brilliant gifts 
 of intellect. Not that he was either a duU or 
 uninteresting companion ; he was not destitute of 
 the ready wit, or the frank vivacity of his country ; 
 but his ignorance and total want of cultivation of 
 mind were glaringly evident, and the weakness of his 
 character easily discernible. Left without parents at 
 an early age, he had experienced the most careless 
 negligence on the part of one of two guardians. He 
 who had been selected merely as a man of business, 
 conscientiously fulfilled his trust, and restored the 
 property committed to his superintendence, which 
 had been greatly impoverished by the extravagance 
 of its last possessor, to a more flourishing state than 
 it had ever known : while the other, though a per- 
 sonal friend of the father of his young ward, left him 
 to foUow his own inclinations, not even counselling
 
 230 CONSTANCY. 
 
 him to go through the general routine of an edu- 
 cation suitable to his prospects in life, to which 
 his extreme indolence of mind and vacillating 
 character rendered him averse. His opinions were 
 unformed, and he had a want of confidence in 
 himself which disposed him to lean upon others. 
 Unfortunately, he scarcely possessed sufficient dis- 
 cernment to seek out those, who might have lent 
 a worthy support to his weakness, and there was 
 no want of flatterers . ready to undertake the office. 
 
 All these faults, and they were his worst, might, 
 however, have been easily pardoned and greatly 
 rectified by the woman to whom he should give 
 his heart ; and the generosity of feeling which was 
 sure to characterise his affection whenever be- 
 stowed, might invest him with an interest calcu- 
 lated to win the tenderness which he asked in 
 return. 
 
 Julian aw^aited not without dread the effect of 
 the impending discovery of his timid passion on 
 Mercedes. He compared him with Wentworth, 
 and acknowledged that in every brilliant attraction 
 Sir Alfred must yield the palm; yet he felt that 
 he should greatly prefer him as a friend, and was 
 it impossible that Mercedes should accord him the 
 preference as a lover ? Starting in dismay at this 
 suggestion, he sought to find consolation in opposite 
 reflections, saying to himself: 
 
 "Is it possible that she, with that cultivated 
 taste, that refinement of mind, that ardent love of 
 knowledge, which make her delight in the society
 
 CONSTANCY. 231 
 
 of such a man as Lord Sylvester, and qualify her 
 to share his pursuits — is it possible that she wiU 
 become for life the inseparable companion of one 
 so tasteless, so uninformed ? — Not only ' with 
 intellect so unreplenished,' but without the capacity 
 to fill the store-houses of the brain, if any such 
 there be in that head of his ?" 
 
 As all his anxiety could not hasten the course 
 of events, he was forced to watch their pro- 
 gress with an appearance of unconcern, though 
 eagerly awaiting the crisis which he saw ap- 
 proaching. He was unable to refrain from seiz- 
 ing every opportunity that afforded itself of seeing 
 in society the objects of his interest. Mercedes, 
 in the last of her visits to the painter's studio, 
 told him that as the moon was at the full, they 
 intended to repair to the Coliseum, and thus to 
 do homage to all its variety of beautiful aspects ; 
 having often beheld it burnished by the gorgeous 
 rays of the setting sun, and many times in their 
 morning exc\u*sions, seen it illumined by that orb 
 when rising ; and had viewed it also in its noontide 
 glory, when the deep blue sky looked more ' darkly, 
 deeply, beautifully blue' through its many openings, 
 and the glowing redness of the walls contrasted 
 most forcibly with the verdant freshness of the 
 thousand plants that overrun it. Mercedes as she 
 told him of their intention, went on to repeat 
 with admiration, words which, she said, were 
 to her more truly descriptive of that majestic 
 building than any others she had ever read or heard ;
 
 232 CONSTANCY. 
 
 comprising, as they did, all its peculiarities in one 
 sentence. 
 
 "As it now stands, the Coliseum is a striking 
 image of Rome itself — decayed, vacant, serious, 
 yet grand ; — half grey and half green ; — erect on 
 one side, and fallen on the other ; — with consecrated 
 ground in its bosom ; inhabited by a beadsman, 
 visited by every caste ; — for moralists, antiquarians, 
 painters, architects, poets, devotees, all meet here 
 to meditate, to examine, to draw, to measure, and 
 to pray." 
 
 Julian assented to her approval of this sentence, 
 only he pointed out what he thought two defects in it. 
 
 " Why," he asked, " does Forsyth say, * vacant, 
 serious, yet grand?' Where is the opposition 
 indicated by ' yet ?' And why does he call the 
 Coliseum half grey ? A painter may consider 
 himself qualified to criticise the truth of descriptive 
 epithets. I think that in those scenes which 
 Byron has described, he is the only commentator 
 on them, whom I would willingly allow to accom- 
 pany me. The exquisite propriety of every term 
 he applies, is then remarked with an admiration, 
 that adds to the pleasure of the hour. I will not 
 quote his magnificent passages on the Coliseum, 
 because half your party will have them by heart, 
 and will be bent on finding hsteners. 
 
 Julian, who had long since ceased to debate 
 whether he should fly from or seek the presence 
 of Mercedes, readily acquiesced in her proposal 
 that he should accompany them, and the appointed
 
 CONSTANCY. 233 
 
 evening found him among the earliest of the 
 expected guests at the Palazzo — . Sir Alfred had, 
 however, preceded him, and Wentworth had pre- 
 ceded them both, and embittered to both the 
 prospects of the evening by the bright smiles 
 which he w^on from Mercedes. Julian plainly per- 
 ceived how rapid was his progress towards the 
 attainment of his object, now that he was freed 
 from the baneful influence of Mrs. Annesly March- 
 mont's charms ; and he saw him animated to 
 unusual exertions, and rendered by the presence of 
 a rival, (welcome rather than unwelcome to him), 
 all vivacity, all amiability, and all devotion. When 
 the party assembled in the interior of the Coliseum, 
 Julian was full of anxiety to see whose arm would 
 be first profl'ered to Mercedes, and whose by her 
 accepted. Oh, that he might be her conductor ! 
 that he might be the sole listener to her expression 
 of thoughts and feelings, which such a scene would 
 call forth ! — That he might, in turn, speak to her, 
 unheard by any other human ear, the swelling 
 emotions of his bosom, and tell her how his painter's 
 soul was affected whilst wandering thus in paths 
 that have inspired poets ! — In melancholy silence 
 he stood apart, eager to observe for whom that 
 happiness was reserved, which was for him unat- 
 tainable. He dreaded lest it should be Arundel ; 
 he could not wish that it should be Sir Alfred, 
 for he saw that a declaration of love was trembling 
 on his lips ; he would have been positively happy 
 if it had been Lord Sylvester, for then he might 
 have joined them, and in the interchange of con-
 
 234 CONSTANCY. 
 
 genial sentiments, have enjoyed a temporary respite 
 from his misery. 
 
 But Wentworth was resolved to meet with 
 no defeat, and with the rapidity of thought, he 
 obtained possession of Mercedes' arm, with a 
 demonstration of anxiety intended to convince 
 her how much he valued the privilege of being at 
 her side. Julian observed, on looking round to see 
 how his disconsolate rival would bear this dis- 
 appointment, that Lady Sylvester, manifesting 
 scarcely less decision in her choice, approached the 
 young baronet, and took his arm. Seeing that Lord 
 Sylvester was also engaged, Julian gladly wandered 
 on alone, inexpressibly relieved to find it in his 
 power to do so, and in a few minutes lost sight of 
 all companions. The sublimity of the scene was 
 so great as to force him in some measure to lose 
 himself in the meditations it so naturally awak- 
 ened ; but this was not the first time that JuHan 
 had visited it at the same hour, and under cir- 
 cumstances far more favourable to the indulgence 
 of reveries than the present. It was frequently his 
 habit, on quitting a heated ball-room, or when 
 weary of the solitude of his own chamber, to drive 
 to this spot, and obtaining admission by a fee to 
 the Custode, to wander for hours alone over its 
 ruins, not unfrequently endangered by an unseen 
 approach to the verge of its yawning chasms, and 
 impressed to a painful degree, with the sense of its 
 magnitude, its gloom, and its utter destitution of 
 former glory. 
 
 Most forcibly did Julian feel how truly this
 
 CONSTANCY. 235 
 
 mighty ruin may be considered as the type of 
 Rome herself. His imagination, recalling the past, 
 would see in that vast and magnificent theatre, 
 wherein were enacted scenes of sanguinary cruelty, 
 and fiercest carnage, a fit image of the palmy days 
 when Rome sent forth proud conquerors, who re- 
 turned with laurels dropping with the blood of 
 slaughtered people, and dyed them deeper still in 
 that of her citizens. Then would he picture Chris- 
 tian martyrs expiring on that dread arena, but in 
 the hour that seemed to speak despair to the hearts 
 of all of their abhorred race, sowing the good seed 
 in a fertile soil, and watering it with their blood, 
 though heathens sat around despising and exulting. 
 This he compared to the time when Rome, yet un- 
 corrupted by prosperity, and yet awaiting the re- 
 moval of her enemies mightier than herself, was in 
 truth a labourer in the vineyard of her Lord. And 
 when he cast a glance on the marks of paltry 
 superstitions and vain delusions, that now provoke 
 the indignation or the derision of the moralist who 
 passes by them, he saw Rome, as she is, fallen 
 indeed ! 
 
 But all were not equally employed in moralising. 
 There were many no less engrossed on that evening 
 by their own petty pursuits and interests, vanities 
 and affectations, than if they had been in a scene 
 devoid of all interest, and of all power of awakening 
 a thought that was not of the present. There 
 were others, who would have despised these triflers, 
 no less abstracted from the outward scene, by the
 
 236 CONSTANCY. 
 
 eager pursuit of their own designs and machina- 
 tions. Among these was Lady Sylvester. She had 
 not proceeded far with her young companion, 
 when she began to address him in those silvery 
 tones of sweetness so peculiarly her own. 
 
 " You are not aware, Sir Alfred," she said, " that 
 I was formerly one of your mother's most familiar 
 friends. How much was I reminded of her when 
 first I saw you ! How all my friend came back 
 before me ! A painful pleasure ! — You do not 
 know yet, but you will know, for yours is a feel- 
 ing heart, how tender are the friendships of youth, 
 how potent the spell they fling over our latest 
 years ! It is the love of her memory that makes 
 me speak to you now in so sad a strain. Affec- 
 tion for her, and," she paused and then uttered 
 in a voice at once so gentle, and so earnest, " and 
 pity for you." 
 
 Her companion started, and by a slight impulse of 
 her arm, she induced him to stop. 
 
 "Nay, do not start, either in surprise, or in 
 dismay. If such my interest in you, is it strange 
 that / should have read emotions which you are too 
 ingenuous to know how to conceal ? Does it alarm 
 you to find them in my possession ?" Scarcely 
 pausing for a reply, she continued: "Miss Rat- 
 clifle's beauty has charmed you ; your heart yields 
 to the irresistible fascination of her society. I am 
 now about to do for you what I would do for no 
 other : to save you from your danger, by making 
 known to you a secret, which, for reasons of no
 
 CONSTANCY. 237 
 
 small importance, I assure you I have hitherto, 
 and must continue to keep inviolate — this is, my 
 son's engagement to Miss RatclifFe." 
 
 Her victim started back from her as she said 
 these words, and leaning against a broken wall 
 covered his face with his hands and muttered : 
 
 " Is it even so ? I anticipated this." 
 
 Lady Sylvester approached him, and as if dis- 
 tressed by the sight of his emotion laid her hand 
 tenderly on his arm, and added : 
 
 " I counsel you, dear Sir Alfred, to fly — now 
 while there is time, and seek in other scenes the 
 restoration of your peace of mind." 
 
 " I will— I will;" said Sir Alfred, " I will go to 
 Naples, instantly." 
 
 At this moment a deep sigh reached their ears ; 
 they both started, and Lady Sylvester looked around 
 with so guilty a face of fear as would have excited 
 suspicion in any one less guileless than he on 
 whom she was practising. Quickly recovering 
 herself, she seized the young Baronet's arm, and 
 whispered : 
 
 " Hush ! we are overheard." 
 
 And then drew him into the light to discover 
 the intruder. On the other side of the ruined 
 arch, emerging from the shade which might have 
 concealed him from their view, they found Julian, 
 his cheek more blanched, his demeanour more 
 agitated than that of Lady Sylvester's companion. 
 Unsuspicious of the cause, almost indifferent as 
 to whether her words had reached his ear or not,
 
 238 CONSTANCY. 
 
 and inexpressibly relieved to see that he was alone, 
 she exclaimed : 
 
 " Ah ! Mr. Wilmot, you have escaped into soli- 
 tude I see. Who knows what dehghtful reveries 
 we have disturbed; what images we have de- 
 stroyed, perhaps banished for ever, so that they 
 will never now be given to the living world. I 
 assure you when we came upon you, there was the 
 painter's ' eye in fine frenzy rolling,' and your whole 
 attitude was most picturesque and promising." 
 
 Julian's confusion was not sufficiently interesting 
 to Lady Sylvester, nor exciting to her curiosity to 
 detain her, and she passed on with her first compa- 
 nion, leaving him again in solitude to muse on and 
 to repeat how many times, the few, the very few 
 words of those which he had unavoidably overheard, 
 that had impressed themselves on his memory : 
 " My son's engagement to Miss Ratcliffe !" 
 
 Lady Sylvester, as they returned to the group of 
 their friends, now collected to depart, whispered to 
 the unhappy Sir Alfred : 
 
 " Do not forget that I have placed myself at 
 your mercy to serve you. Keep my secret till it is 
 publicly known, or till I give you permission to 
 disclose it." 
 
 The young man, believing himself deeply in- 
 debted to her, wrung her hand passionately, and 
 muttered : 
 
 " You may depend upon me." 
 
 After that night they saw him no more. Two 
 days had scarcely elapsed when they heard of his
 
 CONSTANCY. 239 
 
 departure for Naples, and Lady Sylvester laugh- 
 ingly acknowledged to Mercedes that she was 
 surprised certainly ; that she had thought that the 
 power of her charms would have detained him 
 longer where he was ; and then she added, ten- 
 derly kissing her blushing cheek : 
 
 " I always fancy every one in love with you, 
 carissima; but the young Baronet, though good- 
 looking, and good-natured, was terribly deficient 
 here," she said, tapping her forehead. " Not that 
 I ever think any one half so handsome as Arundel." 
 
 Mercedes blushed still more deeply at the unex- 
 pected introduction of this name, but Lady Sylves- 
 ter stopped there. 
 
 Now Mercedes was really surprised at Sir Alfred 
 Rayleigh's sudden departure ; for though she did 
 not fancy every one in love with her, she had 
 fancied that he was. But she did not think very 
 long or vtry deeply on the subject.
 
 240 CONSTANCY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 Oime ! Che mia salute 
 Sarebbe il disperare, 
 Poiche sol la speranza 
 E stata mia rovina ! 
 
 TASSO.— ^AMINTAo 
 
 It is not that I love you less 
 Than when before your feet I lay ; 
 But to prevent the sad increase 
 Of hopeless love I keep away. 
 In vain, alas ! for every thing 
 Which I have known belong to you. 
 Your form does to my memory bring 
 And makes my old wounds bleed anew. 
 
 WALLER. THE SELF BANISHED. 
 
 For days after Julian had become finally con- 
 vinced that Mercedes had yielded her affections to 
 Wentworth, and that he, though he little prized 
 and was wholly undeserving of them, had re- 
 solved to obtain her hand, he carefully abstained 
 from again entering her presence. Instead of seek- 
 ing, as formerly, he shunned every place where she 
 was likely to be ; he set aside every thing belong- 
 ing to him, that was in any way connected with 
 her, and vividly brought her to his mind. The 
 drawings she had commended, — the books that he 
 had procured, because he had seen her read them, 
 — the flowers which she had thrown away, and he
 
 CONSTANCY. 24 1 
 
 had cherished, — above all, those faint sketches of 
 her beauty which he had traced from memory in 
 hours of passionate musing. AJl these he removed 
 out of his sight. 
 
 Up to this time, he had never had any settled 
 conviction forced upon him that her heart was 
 another's. If there were undeniably much in pass- 
 ing circumstances to awaken his fears, there was 
 also much to lull them. Until deprived of this 
 negative kind of security, which, unsanctioned, fed a 
 latent hope, he had been himself ignorant of the 
 greatness of its power to abate the anguish of his 
 wound. The rude shock which he now sustained, 
 wakened him for ever from his dream. It was no 
 longer a pleasure to him to think that he breathed 
 the same air, and dwelt among the same scenes 
 as Mercedes ; that they often share the same en- 
 joyments, occupations and thoughts. He would 
 gladly have obliterated from his memory the first 
 day on which he had beheld her. A species of 
 resentment usurped the place of the tenderness 
 with which he had ever thought of her previously. 
 Despair had taken hold of him. He wrestled with 
 his misery, and determined to fly. This resolution 
 caused him to emerge from his self-imposed soli- 
 tude for the purpose of seeking Lord Sylvester, in 
 order to remind him of his declared intention of 
 quitting Rome for Naples, and to hasten his depar- 
 ture by announcing his own readiness to accompany 
 him there, in compliance with the request which 
 his patron had already made. 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 CONSTANCY. 
 
 Nor were the fears by which Julian was at length 
 besieged, exaggerated or premature. Though Mrs. 
 Annesly Marchrnont left Rome, Wentworth re- 
 mained. If the beauty and the art which had, 
 when present, so enthralled him, yet wanted power 
 to compel him to follow whither they led, still less 
 could they, when absent, blind him to the percep- 
 tion of his true interests, or disincline him to their 
 pursuit. He remembered with shame, what his 
 mother did not neglect to point out with reproach, 
 that he had already allowed the wiles of his fair 
 enchantress to lead him to the brink of ruin, and 
 had under her influence almost effected the destruc- 
 tion of that fabric which had been so carefully 
 erected, and on the stability of which his future 
 fortunes in life depended. Repentance should lead 
 to reformation, and this truth was acknowledged 
 by Arundel with a candour which restored him at 
 once to his mother's fevour; particularly as no 
 present temptation existed that could lead him to 
 be more lax in practice than in profession. Arun- 
 del was at length an open suitor for Mercedes' 
 hand, and Lady Sylvester obtained from her lips, 
 a hesitating, but not unwilling permission to write 
 to Mr. Ratcliffe, and seek his consent to their 
 future union. 
 
 Strange as it may seem, up to this time, Mer- 
 cedes, in spite of her youth and beauty, and the 
 favour which his mother, more than himself, had 
 won for him in her eyes, had been rather an object 
 of aversion than of love to Wentworth. It is true
 
 CONSTANCY. 243 
 
 that when first he saw her, he was indifferent to all 
 others as well as to herself, but neither his imagina- 
 tion nor his heart were likely to be quickly touched; 
 the fire of the one had been quenched by early 
 intercourse with the world, and the latter was 
 secured by overweening vanity against the admis- 
 sion of any other idol than self into its inmost 
 recess. He was gratified indeed to find her 
 charms such as would excite as much envy as her 
 wealth. Before he saw her, he regarded her 
 merely as a golden prize which his mother's arts 
 were to make his own. But on beholding her, he 
 felt that she had other qualifications of far inferior 
 value in his estimation, but would yet render it 
 more honourable to win her ; and with pleasure he 
 prepared to endeavour to outshine his brother in 
 her eyes, and to make her by the charms of his 
 person, manner, and conversation, prefer him to 
 the possessor of a coronet. He came later into the 
 field, and desired the triumph of destroying by his 
 brilliant qualities any hold that his brother's more 
 solid claims to esteem might have gained on 
 her aff'ections. Thus actuated, Arundel would, at 
 that time, had not his mother's caution banished 
 him from the scene of action, almost as soon as he 
 appeared on it, have pursued the object which 
 she wished him to obtain with all the ardour 
 which she desired. Nor would his success have 
 been doubtful or difficult. Mercedes loved Lady 
 Sylvester most tenderly, and had by her been 
 
 M 2
 
 244 ' CONSTANCY. 
 
 taught to believe that in Arundel she beheld 
 a son worthy of such a mother's fondest affection. 
 A superficial acquaintance with him, particularly 
 when he was intent on pleasing, was well calculated 
 to make a favourable impression. Lady Sylvester 
 discerned the advantages of their situation, but 
 deemed herself compelled to resign them She 
 did not dare to weave her web immediately under 
 the eyes of Mr. Ratcliffe. By her prompt banish- 
 ment of Arundel, she guarded against an evident 
 peril, but encountered another of which she only 
 discovered the existence by feeling its effects. Still 
 she had — 
 
 With reason's suffrage on her side, 
 
 never been forced wholly to relinquish the guidance 
 of her son's actions into the hands of her enemy. 
 Her influence, though weakened and interrupted, 
 had never been absolutely destroyed, and on the 
 removal of its obstructress had resumed its original 
 strength, and she found at length in Wentworth 
 the willing and able coadjutor who was necessary 
 to carry out her schemes. With Mercedes no very 
 difficult task awaited her. Her first acquaintance 
 with Arundel had sufficed to make her look for- 
 ward with interest to the period when it was to be 
 renewed. This feeling was carefully fostered by 
 his mother, and had he met her again with the 
 same display of eagerness for her approbation 
 which he had shown in their first meeting, he 
 might quickly have won her heart. But his inde-
 
 CONSTANCY. 245 
 
 cision first perplexed, and then piqued her. She 
 stood aloof with dignified reserve while his declara- 
 tions were thus ambiguous ; but, as we have 
 already said, Lady Sylvester's artful insinuations 
 would not allow absolute indifference to succeed to 
 astonishment and displeasure. She prevented her 
 from yielding her mind to other subjects, and kept 
 up a doubt and an interest which she now fanned 
 into a more lively flame. 
 
 Mercedes, if not positively certain that she loved, 
 was conscious of an accession of happiness in the 
 certainty that she was loved, and in the enjoyment 
 of what Lady Sylvester so readily bestowed — a 
 mother's tenderness. Alternate distrust and belief 
 had banished the peace which her gentle disposi- 
 tion peculiarly needed, and she felt a satisfaction in 
 the present calm which she erroneously attributed 
 to her value for that affection of which she now 
 confidently deemed herself possessed. 
 
 Even Lord Sylvester feared that she was becom- 
 ing really attached to a man whom he considered so 
 unworthy to awake any deep feeling. He had 
 always entertained a hope, if not an expectation 
 that she would not fail to discover, and to estimate 
 at their real value, the true characters of Arundel 
 and his mother. He had even gone so far as 
 more than once to attempt to open her eyes to see 
 all that was passing before them with something 
 of the same clearness that his own did ; but he 
 found that the veil which Lady Sylvester had 
 woven and cast over her unpractised friend was far
 
 246 CONSTANCY. 
 
 too blinding for her sight to pierce. He then hoped 
 that some not unworthy rival would appear to bear 
 away the prize from Arundel ; but Lady Sylvester 
 knew how to impede the advances of such, nor 
 did he see any that gained his unqualified appro- 
 bation except the unhappy young painter, whose 
 wild and visionary passion he did not dare to feed on 
 hopes that he knew could never be realized. There 
 still remained the possibility that Mr. Ratcliffe might 
 absolutely refuse his consent to a union so little ad- 
 vantageous that nothing short of a conviction that 
 his child's happiness was at stake could make him 
 yield it. Lord Sylvester, actuated by feelings of 
 peculiar delicacy, had always carefully abstained 
 from stepping out of his vocation, and arrogating 
 authority over any of the proceedings of his step- 
 mother and her son. This desire had prevented 
 him from revealing to the merchant his knowledge 
 of their characters, though he had not wholly con- 
 cealed from him his opinion of the dangers to which 
 Mercedes would be exposed when thus entrusted to 
 the care of a woman of fashion. But it was 
 precisely because Lady Sylvester had power to 
 confer the vain distinction of fashion on his 
 child, that Mr. Ratcliffe was deaf to the timely 
 warning. 
 
 From the night of their visit to the Coliseum, Lord 
 Sylvester had perceived the change that took place 
 in Julian ; he had marked his retreat from society, 
 and on his return to it plainly perceived that 
 liis former assumed calmness, and even frequent
 
 CONSTANCY. 247 
 
 appearance of enjoyment, were succeeded by a mood 
 of despairing gloom and restless impatience. Julian 
 did not consider himself authorized to confide his 
 discovery to his friend, having made it by over- 
 hearing a conversation not intended to meet his 
 ear ; nor was he willing, by the acknowledgment of 
 he effect it had worked on him, to confess the 
 wisdom of all his previous cautions. But the eager- 
 ness with which he advocated their immediate 
 departure for Naples, followed as it immediately 
 was by the open declaration of Arundel's suit, 
 revealed to Lord Sylvester what he sought to con- 
 ceal, and he naturally concluded that the lover's 
 eye had more quickly discovered the signs of 
 approaching danger than his own. Touched with 
 compassion, and seeing how little ground there was 
 for future hope, Lord Sylvester resolved to ac- 
 quiesce at once with the painter's suggestion, 
 and agreed on an early day for their depar- 
 ture. 
 
 So sincere was the interest with which the un- 
 protected youth and ingenuous candour of Miss 
 Ratcliffe inspired him, that he could not refrain 
 before he left her (though to do so was alike repug- 
 nant to his inclination, and uncongenial to his 
 character) from laying aside his habitual reserve, 
 and addressing her in a manner which he thought 
 nothing short of his just appreciation of the 
 motives of those by whom she was beset, would 
 have authorized. He sought an opportunity of 
 conversing with her alone, which was not now
 
 248 CONSTANCY. 
 
 SO easy to find as it had formerly been, and 
 began by asking her if she had any commands for 
 him or for Mr. Wilmot at Naples. 
 
 " No," she replied ; " I hope we shall come there 
 soon ourselves." 
 
 " Not before we shall be on our way to Greece, 
 I fear," answered Lord Sylvester. "In short, 
 I know not when we shall be likely to meet again, 
 Miss Ratcliffe; probably not until we shall both 
 arrive in England." 
 
 Mercedes remarked that whereas Lord Sylvester 
 had occasionally been used sometimes formerly to 
 call her more familiarly by her name, since the pros- 
 pect of a more intimate connexion between them, 
 he had never done so, and there was a stiffness in 
 his whole manner towards her, altogether unlike its 
 former frank cordiality. 
 
 " The close of a winter like this is rather melan- 
 choly," continued he. " Here are people congre- 
 gated from all parts of the world forming friend- 
 ships which it is very improbable that they can 
 continue, for when once they separate now, if they 
 ever meet again at all, it may be under totally 
 different circumstances ; and their hearts, instead 
 of warming afresh towards each other, may find 
 very different feehngs engendered by the renewal of 
 their interrupted intercourse. Here distinctions 
 of rank are in a measure laid aside and forgotten, 
 and sympathies of taste and character allowed a 
 freer play than in our world of London ; and many 
 here are on terms of familiar footing, who there will
 
 CONSTANCY. 249 
 
 scarcely recognize each other. This is a fertile source 
 of heart-burnings. You see that I am in a moraliz- 
 ing humour, Miss RatclifFe. Shall you be offended 
 if I go on to give you a little advice before 
 this long parting which it makes me so very serious 
 to anticipate ?" 
 
 " Offended, no 1" said Mercedes, " only obliged. 
 But it is not like you to ask the question, for you 
 have often given me advice before, and I do not 
 know why you should be less presuming now." 
 
 " Circumstances may rob me altogether of the 
 privilege, but I will once more avail myself of it, 
 My advice is of a more serious nature than it 
 has commonly been, and, therefore, may not be Hs- 
 tened to with that readiness which it has hitherto 
 met with. It will not come well from my lips, I 
 allow, but I cannot refrain from uttering a caution 
 that no one else will speak." 
 
 Mercedes now changed colour: she could not 
 retract her consent, nor indeed did she wish to do 
 so ; but she could not listen without embarrassment 
 and agitation, guessing as she did, what subject 
 he was approaching. Lord Sylvester continued 
 with a gentleness and kindness of manner that 
 could not fail to excite her gratitude : 
 
 " I know your devoted affection for your father, 
 my dear Miss Ratcliffe, too well to suppose that 
 you could be induced to take any very important 
 step with regard to yourself without his knowledge 
 and approbation ; I know also that you never would 
 willingly permit any secrecy to exist between you; yet 
 
 M 3
 
 250 CONSTANCY. 
 
 here the means of communication are slow and un- 
 certain, and I fear that your youthful inexperience 
 should occasion a want of caution that might lead to 
 disagreeable and dangerous consequences, and that 
 you should be induced to forget (he said with a strong 
 emphasis on the word induced) how very advisable 
 it is for you to avoid all acts, however trifling and 
 apparently unimportant, that might lead the world 
 to suppose you already in a position in which you 
 can have no intention of placing yourself until 
 you shall have received Mr. Ratcliffe's sanction 
 for so doing. Am I too bold, or can you pardon 
 a freedom which only my sincere interest in your 
 welfare leads me to assume ?" 
 
 *' Yes, indeed I can," replied the blushing Mer- 
 cedes almost inarticulately. 
 
 "May I then add, and still not offend, that 
 some time lies before you ere you can be called 
 on for a final decision ? May I recommicnd you not 
 to pass it carelessly ; not to allow yourself to be 
 diverted from serious thought ; to consider well 
 how much the happiness of future years depends 
 on your present conduct? Youth is fleeting fast 
 away. Your days cannot always pass in a summer 
 dream of pleasure, and if you hope for the enjoy- 
 ment of sober, tranquil bliss you must weigh well 
 the motives that actuate you in the choice of one 
 on whom you must henceforth be in dependence. Let 
 me urge you not only to compare your difl*erent tastes 
 and dispositions ; these might harmonize although 
 different ; but mark well wherein your principles
 
 CONSTANCY. 251 
 
 vary, for if they are to be the rule of your lives, as 
 they ought to be, there must be a perfect similarity 
 between them. You have time given you for re- 
 flection, employ it carefully ; and if you foUow my 
 counsel to hold yourself free until your father's 
 reply arrive, your decision may then be guided by 
 the observations which you make now. I hope you 
 clearly understand my meaning. I hope I am not 
 alarming you more than is necessary." 
 
 " No," replied Mercedes, half smiling, and yet 
 almost weeping, " I feel the kindness by which you 
 are actuated, believe me. I see," she added after a 
 moment's pause, " that you think me unprotected 
 and unadvised ; but surely I am not so. I am 
 rich in friends. Lady Sylvester's kindness to 
 me is that of a mother," and Mercedes shed a 
 flood of grateful tears ; her full heart needed 
 relief 
 
 Lord Sylvester regarded her with compassionate 
 interest. 
 
 " Miss Ratcliffe," he said at length, scarcely 
 with his accustomed calmness, " if a time ever 
 come when you think that you are in need of a 
 brother, remember me, and call on me as you 
 would on one. Will you do this ?" 
 
 Mercedes, still more affected, could only hold 
 out her hand in silence; Lord Sylvester hoping 
 that his words would not be wholly without effect, 
 though he feared that he had done little to guard her 
 from danger, proffered no further caution. His own 
 departure was to take place that night, but he was
 
 252 CONSTANCY. 
 
 disappointed to find, on seeking Julian, that cir- 
 cumstances had now arisen which rendered it impos- 
 sible for him to accompany him. He was however 
 satisfied with the promise he received fi^om him to 
 follow in a few days, for he plainly read the 
 sincerity of the painter's wish to fly from scenes di- 
 vested of their natural powers of pleasing, and em- 
 bittered by their association with thoughts of 
 hopeless pain.
 
 CONSTANCY, 253 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 Qui s' assise, 
 Qui si rivolse, e qui rattenne il passo ; 
 Qui co' begli occhj mi trafisse il core : 
 Qui disse una parola, e qui sorrise. 
 
 PETRARCA. 
 
 The day arrived for Julian's depawure, and in- 
 tending to set off at midnight as Lord* Sylvester 
 had done, he determined to see Mercedes once 
 again, at whatever cost, at whatever risk of be- 
 traying his passion, of forfeiting her tranquil, un- 
 suspecting friendship, of calling forth the ridicule of 
 the indifferent, or the blame and sneers of those who 
 knew him. He assured himself that he could stand 
 the test of the moment of separation without losing 
 his self-command, and he felt that though it be 
 true that ' such partings break the heart they are 
 meant to heal,' to go without seeing her again, 
 would be still more intolerable. Accordingly he 
 went to the house at an hour when he thought it 
 scarcely probable that they would be absent. Great 
 was his chagrin when he learnt that they were gone 
 with some friends to a ViUa a few miles from Rome, 
 and would not return till dinner. The blank air 
 of disappointment that overcast Wilmot's counte- 
 nance at this intelligence was not unperceived by
 
 254 CONSTANCY. 
 
 the quick good-natured Italian who had given 
 it to him. With an expression of mingled pity 
 and cunning she added with a significant smile : 
 
 " Eh ! saranno alia festa strasera !" 
 
 " Where ?" demanded Julian eagerly. 
 
 " Dall' Austria," repHed the woman ; it is their 
 custom thus briefly to designate the embassies re- 
 ceived in their city. 
 
 Julian lingered a little longer to question her 
 further ; he was filled with a sudden desire to enter 
 once again the apartments in which Mercedes lived ; 
 to see her different implements of work, the books 
 she read, the pencil she handled, lying around. 
 He made some trifling pretext to the servant to in- 
 duce her to let him enter ; she did so, but con- 
 tinued in the room with him, watching him with 
 an air of curiosity. He walked up to the table at 
 which Mercedes was generally occupied when he 
 came there ; in a half open drawer he saw several 
 sketches and loose sheets of paper, some of them 
 covered with designs by his own hand, some by 
 hers. How several of them brought back to his 
 mind past conversations, and trivial occurrences ! 
 How well he remembered the remarks she had 
 made upon this, the look she had cast upon that ! 
 Here how readily had she comprehended his mean- 
 ing, there how well had she expressed some thought 
 of her own ; he bent over these things with an 
 unwearied scrutiny, and the deep sigh he heaved 
 moved Chiaruccia to exercise an unwonted patience 
 in allowing him to tarry there still uninterrupted.
 
 CONSTANCY. 255 
 
 Julian, however, with a sense of shame at the 
 weakness he was indulging, and almost betraying 
 to the eye of a menial, roused himself to depart, 
 but he looked around for some memorial of Mer- 
 cedes that he might bear away with him, before he 
 withdrew. If she had been present, he knew 
 that she would have given him any one of her 
 drawings, or her books, or anything else that she 
 believed acceptable to him, but the fact of its 
 being the gift of her hand would have les- 
 sened, instead of increasing its value ; for the 
 very unreluctance with which it would have been 
 proffered, would have afforded a fresh proof of 
 her blindness to his love, and of the calmness of 
 her own feelings. Though Julian would have re- 
 coiled with horror from the discovery of having 
 excited any sentiments beyond those of friendship 
 in her heart ; would have upbraided himself as a 
 traitor to her father, his generous benefactor, and 
 would have fled from her presence wdth precipitation 
 the moment he found that she shared his danger ; 
 yet in spite of the glaring inconsistency of feeling 
 which he could not fail to detect in himself, he 
 always experienced a severe pang on every occasion 
 that confirmed his belief in the undisturbed serenity 
 of Mercedes' mind. He hastily selected a drawing 
 from some that were lying in an obscure corner ; 
 while he viewed it with hesitation, the attention 
 of Chiaruccia was fortunately attracted by the tink- 
 ling of a bell that announced the passing of some 
 religious procession in the street, and throwing
 
 256 CONSTANCY. 
 
 open the window hastily, she leant eagerly from it, 
 and straining forward, watched it in its progress 
 until it disappeared. This accident had afforded 
 Julian time to secrete his stolen treasure, and he 
 then departed. He returned to his lodgings to 
 complete his preparations for his journey, with the 
 intention of attending the ball in the evening in 
 order to see Mercedes, and after a brief, he cared 
 not how brief, an interview, after the interchange 
 of one parting word, he intended to quit a scene 
 which he should seek only for that purpose.
 
 CONSTANCY. 257 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 My mind misgives 
 Some consequence yet hanging in the stars, 
 Shall bitterly begin his fearful date 
 With this night's revels. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 Julian, on his entrance into the ball-room, 
 lingered near the door until the arrival of Lady 
 Sylvester*s party. Miss Ratcliife at length ap- 
 peared leaning on Wentworth's arm; a perfect 
 understanding seemed to be established between 
 them. Her smiling face was radiant with happi- 
 ness ; it beamed on her forehead and in her eyes ; 
 and even Wentworth's unhappy rival was forced 
 to acknowledge that never had he appeared in 
 such favourable colours as on this night. The 
 absence of Mrs. Annesly Marchmont relieved him 
 from all the embarrassment that had lessened the 
 effect of his elegance of manner, and prevented the 
 flow of his brilhant vivacity. Lady Sylvester was 
 more than ever caressingly fond of her young pro- 
 tegee, who seemed to feel no need of anything to 
 render the festive scene one of absolute delight. 
 On seeing Julian, she recognised him with kind- 
 ness, saying : 
 
 " I thought you were already gone ; I saw your
 
 258 CONSTANCY. 
 
 card at home, and thought you were set out for 
 for Naples. You might have been of our party 
 to-day." 
 
 She said this so carelessly, that Julian felt that 
 it scarcely needed a reply, and before he could make 
 any Wentworth led her away. This conduct on 
 his part instantly struck Julian as intentional, and 
 a feeling of sudden resentment increased his dis- 
 like. He saw, too, that Mercedes, now through 
 Mrs. Annesly Marchmont's departure, without a 
 rival, was more surrounded by admirers, more be- 
 sieged by flattery, than she had ever before been. 
 To some who love (or who think that they love) 
 such an observation would have afforded pleasure. 
 Some men require confirmation from others in their 
 love, and in their admiration. If its object be weighed 
 in the balance of fashion, and found wanting, their 
 value for it sinks proportionably. This was 
 not the case with Julian ; his remark made him 
 only the more profoundly melancholy. He would 
 rather that the charms of her he adored should 
 have been like the hidden virtues of the lowly herb ; 
 known but to few, and unprized by the many. 
 
 He observed that Miss Ratcliffe danced more 
 than once with Wentworth, and that he, when she 
 was engaged with others, stood idly by with an air 
 of confident triumph which forced Julian to hate 
 him. 
 
 The evening passed slowly on. Brilliant as was 
 the scene before him, there was but one point of 
 attraction in it to Wilmot. Neglected and for-
 
 CONSTANCY. 259 
 
 gotten as he seemed to be, a feeling came over him 
 as if he knew himself to be deeply injured. Why 
 did Mercedes waste so lavishly, smiles and words 
 on numbers who could not prize them as he would? 
 Why, if he attempted to draw near in the hopes of 
 speaking to her, was he ever intercepted by some 
 gay and successful applicant who bore her quickly 
 from him ? Could she be blind to his eager vdsh 
 to approach her ? Did she seek to thwart it ? If 
 any spoke to him, moved perhaps to do so by his 
 sad countenance and apparent loneliness, he could 
 scarcely frame a coherent reply, repulsed them with 
 irascibility, or discouraged them by listless coldness. 
 They were soon wearied, and discontinued their ad- 
 vances, and he was thus left to himself He was 
 not habitually repulsive, or bitter, or sarcastic, but 
 to-night he was each and aU. His friend Raymond, 
 who had often sought, and sometimes found in him 
 a ready hstener, was displeased at the change ; but 
 as his curiosity was awakened both by the metamor- 
 phosis, and also by finding him there so near the 
 hour of his departure, and as he was never easily 
 disconcerted by a rebuff, he continued beside him, 
 seeking to elicit the real cause of that which puz- 
 zled him. However, as he found his companion 
 obstinately bent on silence, he led him imperceptibly 
 towards a group of Englishmen, who were discuss- 
 ing the topics of the day, and falling into the circle, 
 mingled in their conversation. Julian remained, 
 in spite of his change of situation, whoEy abstracted 
 from all around him, until some familiar name
 
 260 CONSTANCY. 
 
 seemed to catch his ear, and aroused his attention, 
 although he did not distinctly distinguish it, nor at 
 all discover how it was employed. Turning to- 
 wards the speakers who had awakened him from 
 his reverie, he listened impatiently for what was to 
 follow. 
 
 " My authority," said one, " is, I fear, not to be 
 disputed. It must be true ; and we shall see it all 
 in the Galignani to-morrow." 
 
 " Shocking !" Tremendous !" " Unheard of 
 ruin !" " Mad speculations !" " Wild schemes !" 
 were the words that on aU sides fell on Julian's 
 now attentive ear. 
 
 " Some one said that his daughter was here," 
 continued the first speaker ; "I should like to 
 see her." 
 
 "There, there," replied several to his inquiry; 
 " there she is, dressed in white, with a lily in her 
 hair. La helle des belles^ 
 
 " Poor child !" said one old man in a voice of 
 pity, and Julian (for it was Mercedes whom they 
 had pointed out) turned to him with aU the dis- 
 traction of anxiety, and exclaimed in accents of 
 agonized supplication : 
 
 " TeE me. Sir, what you know that makes you 
 pity her?" 
 
 The old man looked at his young interrogator 
 for a moment ; perhaps in that moment he read 
 his heart, for he took his arm and led him kindly 
 a little apart from the crowd, and said to him 
 gently:
 
 CONSTANCY. 261 
 
 "That gentleman is just come from Civita 
 Vecchia, and his news from England is, that 
 the great house of Ratcliffe and Moore is bankrupt ; 
 that utter ruin has come upon it, and that poor 
 thing's father is dead ; some say that he has 
 fallen by his own hand, but that rt^port has not 
 been verified." 
 
 Julian heard no more — his senses failed him ; 
 the room swam before his eyes and he fell back- 
 wards. When he recovered, he found himself 
 in a large outer saloon leading to those open for 
 reception. Raymond was with him, who, when 
 he unclosed his eyes, said : 
 
 " Well, my dear fellow, how are you now ? 
 W^hat ailed you ? I thought all the evening that 
 something went WTong with you. Is it the heat 
 and the glare of that crowded room? Come, I 
 will get you home. There is old Mordaunt w^ill 
 lend me his carriage for a lift. There is an hour 
 or two before you ere you need start." 
 
 Julian had now collected his scattered senses, 
 and raising himself, he said in a hollow voice : 
 
 " No, no, I must go back. I cannot go home 
 yet. I thank you, but let me pass. Do not detain 
 me here," and passing him rapidly without further 
 explanation, he made his way back into the ball- 
 room. 
 
 " No," he thought to himself as he hurried 
 forward, " I cannot go yet. Never, perhaps, shall 
 I see that face bright, and happy, and smiling 
 again ! Oh, God ! hours of darkness and distress
 
 262 CONSTANCY. 
 
 are coming upon her, and must I forsake her! 
 Of what avail am I here? She loves another, 
 let him stand by her ; he is powerful, wealthy, 
 high-born, he can protect her from every storm. 
 Let me fly. If her presence were full of danger 
 to me when she was happy and prosperous, what 
 would it be when she is in sorrow and tears !" 
 
 Still he sought it, for though this last thought 
 flashed across his mind, no selfish consideration 
 could have impelled him to quit her. A conviction 
 of the utter inutility of his presence prevented him 
 from changing his design of departure ; but he 
 hastened on, eager to do that little to serve her, 
 which he felt was not forbidden by honour. 
 
 He entered the room, and quickly discovered 
 the object of his search. StiU Arundel was at 
 her side, and a throng around her. He forced 
 his way rapidly, but gently, through the crowd, 
 and in defiance of the frown that he saw on 
 Arundel's brow, reached her, and determinedly 
 placed himself close to her, saying in a low voice : 
 
 " Miss Ratcliffe, let me speak to you but a 
 few words. After I quit this room, I shall leave 
 Rome within an hour. The morning dawn will 
 find me far from it." 
 
 Without any hesitation, Mercedes put her arm 
 into his, and walked to a little distance from those 
 who had surrounded her ; and no one interrupted 
 her in her course nor presumed to follow her, for 
 there was a dignity in the demeanour of Mercedes 
 that won her respect, and taught those who desig-
 
 CONSTANCY. 263 
 
 nated her as the Queen of Beauty, that she would 
 have submission as well as mere hp homage from 
 those who acknowledged themselves her subjects. 
 Not even Arundel ventured to approach. When 
 she found herself apart from the crowd, and standing 
 within a recess to which JuHan had directed her 
 steps, she raised her eyes to his face, as if waiting 
 for him to speak. 
 
 "Before I bid you farewell. Miss Ratcliffe," 
 he said in a tremulous voice, " I would allude once 
 more to all the benefits I have received at your 
 hands, and at those of your father, (Julian shud- 
 dered as he uttered that name, but he did not 
 dare to alarm the daughter's heart by the betrayal 
 of an unconfirmed report) and once more make a 
 profession of the heart-felt gratitude which they 
 have excited. I never hope to repay them, only 
 1 entreat you, if you are willing to add one more 
 kindness to the many conferred, to promise me 
 that if at any period of your life, sooner or later, 
 you know or think that it is in my power to 
 execute any one of your wishes, to serve you in 
 any degree, to accomplish any task, difficult or easy 
 of performance, that you may desire to have 
 accomplished, — if I can defend you in any danger 
 or distress — forgive me, Miss Ratchffe, I forget 
 myself. I know not what I would say. If I have 
 offended you by my words, forgive me, and promise 
 me, once more I ask it, to apply to me if such a 
 case as I have described ever occur, to rely on my 
 devotion as your mother relied on that of my mother,
 
 264 CONSTANCY. 
 
 and never to believe youi'self destitute of a friend, 
 while I or any of my family are within your reach." 
 
 He paused for her reply. Impressed by his 
 vehemence, and impelled by an impulse she could 
 neither explain nor resist, she replied with gi-eat 
 earnestness : 
 
 *' I do promise all you ask." 
 
 " God bless you for those words," said the young 
 painter, passionately ; and darting through a door 
 that was near them, he disappeared. Mercedes 
 remained where he left her. She grew pale and 
 thoughtful. 
 
 " Some danger that I know not of surely threat- 
 ens me. All this evening, in spite of my happi- 
 ness, have I had a secret misgiving, a presentiment 
 of evil; some misfortune awaits me. But," and 
 her eye brightened again with the thought, " I 
 am with friends. Arundel and his mother are 
 near me." 
 
 Arundel was near her ; and, at intervals, for a 
 few brief moments, Mercedes would forget the 
 shock she had received and be gay. The colour 
 again mantled on her cheek, but it burned too 
 much ; and the smile that curled her lip was a 
 forced one. Some hours passed before she left the 
 brilliant room, heated and fatigued, and with an 
 inward " ominous sinking of the heart," she knew 
 not why ; but she passed her hand across her brow, 
 and sighed. 
 
 As she moved on, supported by Wentworth's 
 arm, she passed an old man, who gazed on her as
 
 CONSTANCY. 265 
 
 if she had been his daughter ; and he said again as 
 he had said before : 
 
 " Poor child !" 
 
 Mercedes heard these words, and she turned her 
 head quickly to see from whence they came ; but 
 the speaker fell back among the crowd, and she 
 could not discern him. Wentworth laughed, and 
 told her that she was mistaken in supposing that 
 they could be meant for her ; but in spite of her- 
 self and of her unwillingness to give him pain, 
 she burst into tears. Wentworth and his mother, 
 the latter loading the weeping girl with caresses, 
 and both lamenting the weariness which they sup- 
 posed to occasion this emotion, hurried her away ; 
 and the old man who, though not in sight, still 
 lingered near them, muttered, not audibly : 
 
 " Ah ! her true lover is gone, and a false one 
 holds the place that he should have. But he will 
 go too, ere long, 1 suspect." 
 
 Thus, while those most deeply interested are 
 easily blinded and deceived, the tongue of common 
 report will repeat the truths which touch them 
 nearest, and bear them to every ear save the one 
 to which they might bring security. 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 2"6 CONSTANCY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 The bright day is gone ! 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 Mia benigna fortuna, e '1 viver lieto, 
 I chiari giomi, e le tranquille notti, 
 Volti subitamente in doglia e 'n pianto 
 Odiar vita mi fanno, e bramar morte ! 
 Nessun visse giammai piu di me lieto ; 
 Nessun vive piu tristo e giomi e notti. 
 
 PETRARCA. 
 
 When Mercedes came to the breakfast-table 
 the following morning, the dread that Julian's 
 strange words had inspired seemed to have passed 
 away ; and with a joyous smile upon her lips, she 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " To-day is post day from England ; I shall have 
 a letter from my father !" 
 
 She clasped her hands with delight, and turning 
 to Went worth, said : 
 
 " You will fetch it for me, will you not ?" 
 
 Wentworth readily assented, for he now^ exerted 
 himself to please her in every possible way with a 
 manifest anxiety to succeed that touched Mercedes' 
 heart. 
 
 The unhappy Mercedes w^as not to preserve her 
 peaceful ignorance even for the few hours that 
 must pass before Arundel could comply with her
 
 CONSTANCY. 267 
 
 request. She took up a " GalignanV' that lay 
 still unopened on the table, and breaking the paper 
 that bound it, laid it before the fire to dry. As 
 she did so, her father's name, in larger letters than 
 the rest, caught her eye : she ran it quickly over 
 the paragraph and catching the arm of Went- 
 worth who was standing near, fell senseless at his 
 feet. 
 
 Who can describe the anguish of that day ! 
 The frantic desperation — the stern disbelief — 
 asserted with wild hysteric laughter, and the 
 horror, oh Heaven, of believing ! The chilling hor- 
 ror of feeling belief slowly creeping in, and para- 
 lysing the fainting heart ! This it is with which 
 we struggle and fight, as the benumbed traveller 
 rouses himself, and resists the fatal slumber that 
 steals over him, for he knows that it is the fore- 
 runner of death : so do we, in oui' agony, repel 
 fiercely that credence which would give the death- 
 blow to hope; that assures us all is over, past, 
 finished ; that there is no scope for action, for 
 the mortal wound was inflicted before we were on 
 our guard to ward it off. 
 
 None can imagine what hopelessness is but those 
 who have felt it. It seems as if life could not 
 exist in companionship with it, but yet it does ! 
 
 Dolor che si mi cruci, 
 E non m'uccidi mai ! 
 
 Not from Lady Sylvester, nor her son, could 
 the overwhelming grief of this unhappy orphan 
 
 N 2
 
 268 CONSTANCY. 
 
 meet with any adequate sympathy ; but their con- 
 sternation and dismay equalled her own. The 
 disappointed peeress would very soon, as she began 
 to realise tlie total wreck of her mercenary hopes, 
 have begun to consider herself almost as much 
 an object of pity and commiseration as the heart- 
 broken daughter; but the violence of Mercedes' 
 agony speedily told so much on her delicate frame, 
 that Lady Sylvester's soliloquies were checked by 
 the alarm she felt, and communicating the state in 
 which the unhappy girl now lay to Wentworth, 
 they agreed immediately to summon medical ad- 
 vice. It was well they did so ; distraction of mind 
 had thrown her already into a high fever, and 
 before night, delirium banished the reality of woe 
 from her mind, though only to replace it by visions 
 not less distressing. 
 
 During the many hours that elapsed before the 
 unfortunate Mercedes became again conscious of 
 the misery of her situation. Lady Sylvester's mind 
 was divided between the anxiety which even she 
 could not escape with regard to the fate of the poor 
 vouno; creature, who had been committed to her 
 charge by a parent who had now ceased to exist, 
 and to whom she could render no account of the 
 manner in which she should fulfil her self-arrogated 
 duty on this side of the grave ; and the eager desire 
 she felt to ascertain the real situation of her unfor- 
 tunate protegee, should she survive the sickness oc- 
 casioned by her grief for the loss of a parent whom 
 she loved so passionately.
 
 CONSTANCY. '269 
 
 Wentworth recoiled with horror when he saw 
 in the paragraph that had met the daughter's 
 eye, the death of Mr. Ratdiffe was attributed to 
 his ow^n rash hand ; he dropped the paper with a 
 shudder and concealed his face. But his mother 
 did not long leave him to undisturbed reflections. 
 Tn such an hour as this even she was agitated, and 
 lost so much of her ready self-possession as to 
 form, and propose, and reject, a thousand incon- 
 sistent plans. Surprised to find that no letters 
 arrived for Mercedes, she, after some consideration, 
 which seemed to silence any scruples of delicacy, 
 proposed to Wentworth to start for England to 
 ascertain the true state of things on the spot, and 
 this she advised him to do without delay. 
 
 " If I want any one," she said, " I will write to 
 Sylvester, and I am sure he would come back. I 
 am by no means certain that he does not love this 
 poor child himself At all events, you do no good 
 here. I suppose that you don't wish to get en- 
 tangled for life." 
 
 Wentw^orth was ashamed to appear to under- 
 stand the base insinuation to which his mother was 
 not ashamed to give utterance, and for a few mo- 
 ments there was silence. 
 
 At length he replied, in a voice of hesitation, 
 
 " I w^ill not leave Rome while Mercedes is in 
 danger." 
 
 His mother saw that she had spoken too plainly , 
 and had actually excited disgust, even in a mind 
 that she believed not to be superior to her ow^n
 
 270 CONSTANCY. 
 
 views. She desisted, but she was not dismayed, 
 for she read in the very tremulousness with which 
 he spoke, that she should meet with no protracted 
 opposition to her will. Wentworth learnt from the 
 banker that English letters had arrived for Lord 
 Sylvester, though not for them ; and these had, in 
 obedience to his parting directions, been imme- 
 diately forwarded to Naples, so that they must 
 remain in ignorance of their contents until they 
 were communicated by himself On the third 
 day from that terrible one which laid Mercedes 
 prostrate on a bed that seemed likely to be the 
 bed of death. Lord Sylvester transmitted to them 
 these important tidings. One of the letters 
 received by him was written by Maxwell, Mr. 
 Ratcliffe's confidential clerk. It confirmed the 
 account of the disastrous ruin of his master's 
 house, but stated the falseness of attributing his 
 death to his own violence. He expired in a fit of 
 apoplexy, occasioned by overpowering agitation. 
 Lord Sylvester bid them to guard Mercedes care- 
 fully from the knowledge of this first report ; but if 
 it unhappily reached her ears, to administer as 
 speedily as possible to the merchant's unhappy 
 child the only consolatory truth that existed for her. 
 To this letter Lady Sylvester sent an immediate 
 reply ; whether its tone excited doubts in Lord 
 Sylvester's mind, or whether feelings of pity for 
 Mercedes were so strong in his heart as to impel 
 him to return, we cannot take on ourselves to de- 
 cide ; we will only inform our readers that a second
 
 CONSTANCY. 271 
 
 epistle shortly arrived from him, informing them 
 that he should speedily follow it, for he had deter- 
 mined not to proceed into Greece without first 
 ascertaining by his presence on the spot, whether 
 it was possible for him to do anything that could 
 afford any alleviation to Miss Ratcliffe's irreme- 
 diable sufferings. 
 
 The interval between these two letters w^as by 
 no means uneventful. Mercedes gradually became 
 again alive to all the misery of her situation. She 
 regained a heart-rending consciousness of what had 
 befallen her, and, though in her enfeebled state, 
 her thoughts were still incoherent, and her mind 
 unable to pursue any subject with continuity ; yet 
 she in a measure began to feel all the anxiety of 
 uncertainty, as w^ell as the bitterness of grief. 
 Lady Sylvester, who had from the first declared her 
 inability to witness such sorrow, and had left her 
 solely to the care and attendance of her maid and 
 the physician, as soon as she learnt that her reason 
 was restored, felt that to relieve her from the 
 horror attending the belief she held as to the cir- 
 cumstances of her father's death, would be the 
 kindest act that could be performed; and after some 
 reflection, she decided that the safest, the least 
 agitating way of approaching the subject with her 
 would be the transmission of Lord Sylvester's 
 extract from Maxwell's letter without comment. 
 She consulted the physician, who concurred in her 
 opinion, and to him she gave the paper which he 
 placed in Mercedes' hand, when he left her, assuring
 
 272 CONSTANCY. 
 
 her that in its contents she would find great com- 
 fort. He trusted that the salutary effects of re- 
 moving that grief which must be the most harrow- 
 ing to her bosom, would more than compensate 
 for the passing emotion which was unavoidably 
 awakened. Nor was this judgment erroneous, for 
 hitherto Mercedes had felt herself nearly destroyed 
 by the resolute manner in which she had kept 
 secret the agony caused by the awful belief with 
 which her mind had been impressed. She could 
 not dwell on it without feeling her brain nearly 
 maddened by the horrible thought. It was the 
 last that delirium had banished ; it was the first 
 that reason recalled. In the anguish and shame 
 of such a belief, she had made a resolution never 
 again to open her lips to any human being on the 
 subject of the latter end of her father. It did such 
 violence to all her previous veneration and love, 
 that she quickly had recourse to the less hateful 
 idea that insanity must have mastered his intellect 
 before he could have rushed uncalled into his 
 Maker's presence. Now this crushing sorrow was 
 removed, and instead of it, she received the sweet 
 and soothing knowledge that her father had been 
 taken away fi'om the evil days that were coming. 
 True it is that Mercedes' tears flowed more pro- 
 fusely while she perused this letter than they had 
 ever yet done ; but they were as refreshing as a 
 shower to the parched earth — they were as dew to 
 the withered grass — and the words that drew them 
 forth were sweet as the manna in the wilderness.
 
 CONSTANCY. 273 
 
 Mercedes, as she became more composed, 
 pleaded so earnestly to see Lady Sylvester, and 
 transmitted such tender messages to her through 
 the physician and through the domestic, that she 
 was ashamed to shun compliance with them. She 
 felt herself much embarrassed by the perfect re- 
 liance on her affection which Mercedes unhesi- 
 tatingly manifested ; and when she would have 
 inquired in faint accents of Arundel, his mother 
 only stooped over her, and silenced her with a kiss, 
 telling her that if she persisted in attempting to 
 speak, she must leave her instantly. Whenever 
 she executed this threat, and left Mercedes in soli- 
 tude, the unhappy girl was tortured by reflections 
 that seemed to threaten to bring her back to the 
 brink of the grave. The silence imposed by Went- 
 worth's mother with regard to him began to seem 
 strange and mysterious. She dwelt with peculiar 
 anguish on the thought that a foul disgrace would 
 henceforth rest on the name borne by her father 
 and herself for the ruin brought upon hundreds ; 
 that the happiness of many families would be for 
 ever destroyed, and parents and children would 
 execrate them. Then there arose a torturing 
 question— could she ally herself to Wentworth 
 pennyless and unportioned, when he had sought 
 her wealthy ? Was she to enter a family that had 
 shown condescension in admitting her when pros- 
 perous, now that shame alone stripped her name 
 of obscurity, giving it an ignominious celebrity ? 
 With these bitter thoughts rankling at her heart, 
 
 N 3
 
 274 CONSTANCY. 
 
 she resolved to hasten to set Wentworth free from 
 every vow that shackled him. 
 
 Arundel, in spite of the exercise of arts well able 
 to baffle more experience and more suspicion than 
 he had to combat, had never entirely succeeded in 
 inspiring confidence in the heart of the woman 
 whose affection he sought. Her love, therefore, had 
 never been perfect, for it had never been without 
 fear. , If Wentworth's present conduct should 
 banish doubt, then would her heart become wholly 
 his : — the hour of trial was now arrived. 
 
 Accordingly the poor orphan resolved with a 
 vigour of decision which had hitherto lain dormant 
 in her character, that in her very next interview 
 with Lady Sylvester she would send a message to 
 AiTindel extorting an answer as should tell her 
 whether she were alone in the world or not. She 
 found, however, that she had overrated her strength. 
 While Lady Sylvester was with her she felt it ab- 
 solutely impossible to approach this subject ; per- 
 haps it was that she was sensible of the existence 
 of an indescribable change in Lady S3dvester's 
 manner that chilled her heart and awoke apprehen- 
 sions, and silenced her when she tried to speak. 
 As long, therefore, as Lady Sylvester remained in 
 the room, she turned her face away from her, and 
 remained silent. The tears slowly trickled down 
 her cheek, but she would not raise her hand to 
 wipe them away, and she stifled the sobs with 
 which her bosom heaved. 
 
 At length, w^hen she heard Lady Sylvester rise,
 
 CONSTANCY. 275 
 
 and move away with a stealthy step, as if she 
 thought that she slept, she made a sudden effort, 
 and raising her head from her pillow, turned to- 
 wards her, and beckoned to her to approach. 
 Making her lean down to her, she murmured in a 
 scarcely audible whisper : 
 
 " Dearest Lady Sylvester, give me a pencil and 
 a bit of paper, that I may write to Arundel !" 
 
 Lady Sylvester started ; her countenance ex- 
 pressed alarm, and she was preparing to expostu- 
 late, but Mercedes added imploringly : 
 
 " Do not oppose me, I beseech you. I must do 
 this. I shall have no rest till it is done !" 
 
 Lady Sylvester, in silence, complied with her re- 
 quest; and Mercedes, as she took the writing 
 materials from her hand, said : 
 
 " Will you come again for it ? I should like to 
 be alone while I write." 
 
 When she found herself alone, she could not 
 immediately proceed in the bitter task which she 
 had imposed on herself. She even paused again 
 to debate on the necessity for it ; but her heart told 
 her that she was only practising self-deception in 
 thus hesitating, and she conquered the repugnance 
 which she could not but feel. 
 
 Still she delayed the execution of her purpose ; 
 for other considerations arose in her mind, filling 
 it with doubt and pain. 
 
 Would the communication which she designed 
 to make outrage Went worth's feelings ? She tried 
 to conceive what her own w^ould be in his situa-
 
 276 CONSTANCY. 
 
 tion ; and she pictured him to herself casting from 
 him with scorn the imputation which the words she 
 meant to employ would tacitly convey, and smarting 
 with the wound that suspicion would inflict. 
 
 As she meditated thus, another far more agoniz- 
 ing thought sprang up. She imagined Went- 
 worth reading the words that cost her so dear with 
 ill-disguised satisfaction. A sense of shame might, 
 perhaps, for a time prevent him from availing 
 himxSelf of a release which in reality he coveted — or 
 would he even have the indelicacy to snatch it 
 eagerly? 
 
 She covered her face with her thin, pale hands, 
 and wept. She fancied that she heard Lady Syl- 
 vester's approaching step, and hastily snatching up 
 the paper, wrote thus : 
 
 " It is impossible for me to see you yet. For 
 both our sakes it is better not to delay the few 
 words I wish to say to you. I am no longer, Mr. 
 Wentworth, her whose hand you sought. My 
 heart feels broken though they seem to think that 
 I shall live on. Disgrace and poverty are come 
 upon me. Do not ally yourself with them. I re- 
 lease you." 
 
 The struggle was over — the effort was complete — 
 she sank back exhausted, and when Lady Syl- 
 vester came again, she feebly pointed to the folded 
 paper and did not speak. 
 
 The moment that Lady Sylvester had quitted 
 the room, she opened the paper, read its contents 
 with evident exultation, and sought Wentworth.
 
 CONSTANCY. 277 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 La croyance donne une serenite, une fraicheur k tous nos 
 sentiments, que le doute desseche et fletrit. — capefigue. 
 
 Moum'st thou, poor soul, and would' st thou yet 
 Call back the things that shall not, cannot be ? 
 Heaven must be won, not dreamed. Thy task is set ; 
 Peace was not made for earth, nor rest for thee. 
 
 froude's remains. 
 
 What was the purchase of Mercedes' struggles 
 and tears ? Wentworth and his mother commented 
 with few of either on the words her trembling hand 
 had scarcely known how to form. Lady Sylvester 
 began to applaud the right judgment, the good 
 feeling which had dictated them. 
 
 " The only step for you to take," said she to 
 her son, " is to go from hence ; return without 
 delay to England ; you will then be able to make 
 yourself fully informed of Mercedes' real situation. 
 She cannot blame you. She sees the thing in 
 its true light. No one, indeed, can doubt the 
 absolute necessity and wisdom of cutting short at 
 once ties that cannot be continued. All delay is, 
 indeed, cruelty to her." 
 
 " What reply," said Wentworth, in a thick con- 
 strained voice, for he was not so blind to the
 
 278 CONSTANCY. 
 
 dishonour he was incurring as his mother desired 
 him to be. "What reply can I give to Miss 
 Ratcliffe's note ?" 
 
 " None, none," interrupted Lady Sylvester 
 eagerly. " I will tell her that you go to render 
 her the sole service that remains in your power. 
 Remember," she added with increased alarm, as 
 she watched a dark cloud overcast his countenance : 
 " I am not suggesting merely what is reasonable, 
 but what is indispensable. Can you, yourself 
 without fortune, marry an absolute beggar ? You 
 know the impossibility of such folly. Why linger 
 here then ? Begone — spare Mercedes and yourself 
 all further suspense." 
 
 " Mercedes," replied Wentworth in a solemn 
 manner, " must be made to know all this as well 
 as you and I know it." 
 
 " Of course she shall — she does now ; you see 
 it in her own words." 
 
 " And tell her that I shall never forget her." 
 
 " I will," answered Lady Sylvester, turning away 
 her head to conceal the contemptuous half-smile 
 which this speech provoked. 
 
 Wentworth departed that evening, and Mercedes 
 learnt the fact from Lady Sylvester who conveyed 
 it to her with all the caution and the delicacy 
 that could attend such a communication. 
 
 Mercedes began to fear that she had no friend. 
 The delusion which had led her to repose confidence 
 in Lady Sylvester and Arundel was now gradually 
 vanishing. As yet, however, it was the waking,
 
 CONSTANCY. 279 
 
 not the dream, that seemed unreal. She still 
 mused on the past, rather than on the present ; 
 she thought of them as they had been, not as 
 they were. Then would the thread of her re- 
 flections be suddenly broken by some heart-pierc- 
 ing recollection of what now was, and she would 
 restlessly seek a new posture ; would rise on her 
 couch, and folding her hands, would press them 
 to her heart, and murmur : " Am I then with- 
 out a friend ?" 
 
 Thus would she ask when she had been soothing 
 herself by an imaginary enjoyment of sympathy, 
 pouring out all her most intimate thoughts ; all 
 that pressed most heavily on her spirit ; all the 
 terrible fears that besought contradiction ; all the 
 faint hopes that needed to be assured ; all the 
 tender half-spoken appeals for pity that ought to 
 be read before the suiferer has undergone the pain 
 of expressing them ; all the high determinations 
 of endurance, patience, and resignation that need 
 to be strengthened and confirmed by approbation ; 
 all the weak repinings that are quickly silenced 
 by the replies of an impartial reasoner. All these 
 things found a place in the fancied conversations 
 w^hich she held, and the voice that responded to 
 her was sometimes that of Wentworth, but still 
 more often that of Lady Sylvester ; and sometimes 
 she wondered at their absence, and no voice 
 answered her ; and she felt in a solitude too oppres- 
 sive for her broken spirit to support. Then she 
 would weep, and say : " I have no friend !"
 
 280 CONSTANCY. 
 
 Sometimes she would remember how she had 
 been led to believe in the strength and earnest 
 truth of Wentworth's passion, and would anxi- 
 ously inquire if she had ever been really loved ? 
 If this were all that was to be expected from 
 love? How different then from what she had 
 believed it to be ! Of how little value was that 
 which she had held as so great a prize ! She 
 remembered the time when she shed tears of 
 joy while whispering in low tones to herself: " I 
 am beloved !" and this it was to be beloved ! 
 Another question arose : was it that all human 
 love is of so little worth, or was it that Wentworth 
 was faithless, and she, first deceived, and now for- 
 saken? Sometimes she fell upon remembrances 
 of Lord Sylvester and of Julian. They both 
 remained absent ; they did not seek her in her 
 lonehness ; but still she often unconsciously specu- 
 lated in her own mind, whether, had either of them 
 been to her what Wentworth had been, their 
 conduct would have resembled his. 
 
 As she was incessantly haunted by this thought, 
 " I have no friend ;" as she was utterly disappointed 
 in those she had made her heart's treasures, believ- 
 ing them to be friends, — she felt that it would be 
 now but wise to ascertain what it was that was 
 really worthy to bear that title ; — what it was that 
 would suffice for her necessity. 
 
 Reflection told her that she wanted a friend 
 w^ho should be always with her as long as she 
 sojourned in the valley of the shadow of death;
 
 CONSTANCY. 281 
 
 never removed from her by time or distance ; never 
 far from her side in the most imminent hour of 
 peril, and the most agonized day of sorrow, so as to 
 constrain her to groan fruitlessly for a consoling pre- 
 sence. She recollected that the friend who is absent 
 from our sufferings is also ignorant of them, at 
 least for the present hour, and she wanted a 
 friend who should see every emotion of her 
 heart, every tear that she dropped; that should 
 read every desire, and to whom every secret 
 should be known. 
 
 She wanted a friend that would bear with her 
 infirmities in sickness and in sorrow ; that was 
 well acquainted with all her weaknesses — that would 
 support her when she faltered — that would keep 
 her in the right path, yet be gentle and mild, so 
 as never to crush her broken spirit; never tear 
 open the wounds of her heart, making them bleed 
 afresh, but bind them up and pour balm into them. 
 A friend that would shed tears with her and for 
 her. Yes, she w^anted above all things a friend 
 who had learnt by experience, (which alone can 
 teach,) the bitterness of the cup of which she 
 drank ; who knew what it was to be separated 
 by death from those who loved, and to be scoffed 
 at, betrayed, and forsaken by those who had been 
 loved ; who knew the pain of a heart pierced by 
 ingratitude. 
 
 When she had enumerated all these qualifica- 
 tions, she felt that she also wanted a friend who
 
 282 CONSTANCY. 
 
 had power to relieve the sorrows he deplored, 
 strength to bear her burden for her, and love to 
 induce him so to do. And after Mercedes had 
 prayed long and earnestly, she knew that she was 
 not without a friend, even in all these things, such 
 as her heart required.
 
 CONSTANCY. 283 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 Better a thousand such as I 
 Their grief untold, should pine and die. 
 Than her bright morning overcast. 
 With sullen clouds should be defaced. 
 
 But he, his own affection's counsellor. 
 Is to himself — I will not say — how true. 
 But to himself so secret and so close. 
 So far from sounding and discovery. 
 As is the bud bit with an envious worm. 
 Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air. 
 Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 The mind of Julian was distracted at the 
 thoughts of having abandoned her for whom he 
 would so willingly have died, and wholly occupied 
 in picturing in the most lively colours, the anguish 
 with which Mercedes would receive the tidings that 
 awaited her. He upbraided himself with his de- 
 sertion of her, and could scarcely refrain from pre- 
 cipitately retracing his steps, and turning a deaf 
 ear to those motives which had induced him to 
 proceed so far. When he arrived at Mola di Gaeta, 
 where he intended to pass the night, without paus- 
 ing to admire the surpassing loveliness of the spot, 
 he entered the inn, and taking some paper from
 
 284 CONSTANCY. 
 
 his portfolio strove to soothe his mind by the com- 
 position of a letter which he hoped might be of 
 some future use to Mercedes. It was addressed to 
 his mother; he was resolved to commend the 
 orphan to the protection of his parents, for he 
 mistrusted her noble friends. So intense was his 
 anxiety to impress on their minds the same feelings 
 that he entertained, that no language of appeal 
 he could frame, seemed to him sufficiently em- 
 bued with the pathos or the force of truth. He 
 was writing to his mother, her from whom he 
 never concealed his thoughts or feelings ; the only 
 human being perhaps with whom the shyness of 
 his disposition allowed him to commune with per- 
 fect unreserve ; and yet now his tongue seemed 
 tied, and the expression of his sentiments clogged 
 and embarrassed ; and he finally closed his letter 
 with the fear that they would be ill comprehended, 
 either with regard to their nature, or the extent to 
 which he carried them. 
 
 The evening of the following day Julian reached 
 Naples ; on seeking Lord Sylvester at the hotel, he 
 found him absent. He was gone to dine at the 
 English Embassy, and afterwards intended to visit 
 the San Carlo Theatre, for it was a gala night. 
 His return therefore could not be tiU a very late 
 hour. Julian, directly that he heard how he had 
 disposed of his evening, decided in his own mind, 
 that the terrible news concerning Mr. Ratcliife had 
 not yet reached his ears; he then must be the 
 first to communicate them. To look forward to an
 
 CONSTANCY. 285 
 
 intenaew for such a purpose gave him the greatest 
 pain ; but his anxiety to see his friend, and to tell 
 him of this dreadful report was so intense that he 
 found, fatigued though he was, it would be per- 
 fectly unavailing to seek for repose until he had 
 accomplished this task. 
 
 Telling the people of the house, therefore, that he 
 would await Lord Sylvester's return, he entered 
 the saloon appropriated to his use, and threw him- 
 self into an easy chair beside the table. His eye 
 glanced over it ; there were scattered around cards 
 of diiferent visitors of all nations, aristocrats, 
 commoners, diplomatists, generals, princes ; — notes 
 and cards of invitation were thrown together, — 
 catalogues and books of reference piled upon each 
 other showed that his Lordship's hours were not 
 allowed to pass unoccupied. Julian's eye, as it 
 surveyed this heterogeneous mass, was arrested by 
 a sealed letter unopened, the superscription of which 
 he saw was to himself, and in Lord Sylvester's own 
 handwriting. At this moment a servant entered, 
 and began to search on the table for something 
 which he could not find, when looking up and 
 perceiving the letter in Julian's hand, he informed 
 him that his Padrone had left it with him to be 
 delivered to him immediately on his arrival. He 
 then retired, and Julian throwing himself back in 
 his chair, broke the seal with some trepidation, 
 and read a detail of the circumstances which were 
 already known to him, and with which our readers 
 likewise are acquainted. The concluding words of 
 the epistle were as follows :
 
 286 CONSTANCY. 
 
 " Now I will not conceal from you that although 
 my brother, whom I left almost affianced to her, 
 and my mother, who has ever professed a ma- 
 ternal aifection for her, are both beside Mercedes, 
 I shall feel more satisfaction in receiving tidings 
 of her through you than through them. So strongly 
 have I this perhaps unauthorized but irrepressible 
 feeling of anxiety on her account, that T think I 
 shall return to Rome for a short time in order to see 
 what arrangements are making for her journey back 
 to England." 
 
 Julian as he finished this passage exclaimed : 
 " Is it possible that he could write such a letter 
 as this, and then join a party at a theatre !" He 
 was lost in amazement, and not without feelings of 
 indignation. He could scarcely reconcile the exist- 
 ence of that warm-hearted benevolence which 
 prompted to acts of the greatest kindness and gene- 
 rosity, with the absence of that tender sensibility 
 w^ith which in himself it was closely united, but 
 which in Lord Sylvester's eyes was but a deteriora- 
 ting quality. 
 
 Pampering the heart 
 With feelings all too delicate for use, 
 
 and alike destroying the peace of its possessor and 
 diminishing his utility. 
 
 Julian was roused from his reflections by the 
 sound of Lord Sylvester's voice, inquiring if he 
 were arrived. He started up to reply but found 
 himself, on thus suddenly rising, scarcely able to 
 stand ; his head was dizzy ; he grasped the table
 
 CONSTANCY. 287 
 
 for support, and when Lord Sylvester advanced 
 towards him, sank back into the chair, and buried 
 his face in his hands. Affected by the sight of 
 his friend's extreme agitation, Lord Sylvester tried 
 to soothe him, but a feeling of pride came to 
 Julian's aid, for he could not endure to give w^ay to 
 emotion in the presence of one who had so com- 
 pletely maintained his self-possession, as to mix 
 without interruption in the common routine of life. 
 He composed himself therefore as speedily as pos- 
 sible, and the remaining hours of the night were 
 spent by the two friends in discoursing on the me- 
 lancholy subject that engaged, perhaps almost 
 equally, the thoughts of both. 
 
 At length they separated, and when they met 
 again. Lord Sylvester would not allow himself nor 
 his friend to give utterance to the doubts w^hich 
 prevailed in both their minds with regard to the 
 future conduct of Lady Sylvester and of her son. 
 He felt that he w^as as yet unauthorised to indulge 
 in the harsh suspicions that suggested themselves, 
 and though they weighed too strongly with him to 
 allow him with a quiet conscience to leave Mer- 
 cedes wholly in the power of her present pro- 
 tectors, yet he determined in justice to them to 
 stand, if possible, entirely aloof, and not to interfere 
 with any proposition that they made, unless it 
 became absolutely necessary to do so. Until an 
 answer should arrive to the letter which he had 
 written to Lady Sylvester, he decided on remaining 
 where he was.
 
 288 CONSTANCY. 
 
 The unhappy Julian, in the meantime, was in a 
 state of utter wretchedness, and restless excitement. 
 The agony of Mercedes was ever present to him, 
 and in spite of his struggles and his self-reproaches, 
 he found that he could not picture to himself 
 Wentworth consoling her, without the most bitter 
 aggravation of his sufferings. He could not endure 
 to see Lord Sylvester remain inactive, he even up- 
 braided him openly with coolness ; but his friend 
 bore with him silently and compassionately. Lady 
 Sylvester's answer when it came, did not give Lord 
 Sylvester satisfaction; and yet he could scarcely 
 put his finger on the word or sentence in it that 
 displeased him ; nevertheless he now resolved that 
 he would return to Rome. He expected that on 
 communicating this decision to Juhan, he would 
 declare an intention of returning with him. What- 
 ever might be his friend's wishes, he did not now 
 intend either to combat or to counsel, for he 
 thought that in his present state of mind it was 
 best to leave him to himself. Julian received 
 his intimation in silence, not even expressing 
 satisfaction. He proved that he had no idea 
 of accompanying him, by giving him the letter 
 which he had written to his mother, briefly 
 entreating him to place it in Mercedes' hands, 
 with an earnest request that she would make 
 use of it on her return to England. Having 
 signified this wish, he relapsed into silence, 
 and seemed about to see his friend depart in the 
 same mood of blank despair. Compassion sealed
 
 CONSTANCY. 289 
 
 the lips of Lord Sylvester, though he was wounded 
 by Julian's deportment towards him; without re- 
 proach or allusion to it, he extended his hand to 
 the young painter to bid him adieu, when Julian, 
 grasping it with sudden vehemence, while tears no 
 longer to be repressed gushed from his eyes, ex- 
 claimed in broken accents : 
 
 " May God reward you for this act !" and 
 hastily escaped from his presence. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 290 CONSTANCY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 Di pensier in pensler, di monte in monte, 
 Mi guida Amor, ch' ogni segnato calle 
 Provo contrario alia tranquilla vita. 
 
 Per alti monti, e per selve aspre trovo 
 Qualche riposo : ogni abitato loco 
 E nemico mortal degli occhj raiei. 
 A ciascun passo nasce un pensier novo 
 Delia mia Donna. 
 
 PETRARCA. 
 
 When Lord Sylvester was gone, Julian lived in 
 the utmost loneliness. He made no acquaintance 
 in Naples ; and if by chance he saw at a distance 
 any persons whom he had previously known else- 
 where, he would escape their notice, and shun their 
 approach. He hated the gay and noisy city ; its 
 mirthful crowd, and the idle throng of strangers — 
 the very brilliancy of its sun seemed to mock him. 
 He could not endure to remain where he was ; and 
 }'et he would not venture to quit Naples, dreading 
 lest by doing so he might lose the letters which 
 Lord Sylvester had promised to write to him there. 
 At last a plan suggested itself which pleased his 
 fancy. He drove one day to Portici, and entered a 
 mean and lowly habitation immediately upon the 
 shore ; the waves that lashed the walls of the little
 
 CONSTANCY. 291 
 
 garden beyond it, seemed to soothe him by their 
 ceaseless voice. He obtained, without much diffi- 
 culty, a lodging in it, of which he took immediate 
 possession. Here established, he would leave a 
 sleepless bed at an early hour, and mount the 
 black and dreary side of Vesuvius — that gloomy 
 monument of Nature's fury. These scenes of 
 desolation seemed congenial to his present mood, 
 and more than once he toiled up the steep ascent 
 to the very summit, and mused in solitude on the 
 brink of the yawning crater, which vomited all the 
 while smoke and flames. In the plains where 
 Pompeii stands he would also wander ; traversing 
 its silent streets, or seating himself for hours on a 
 fallen capital near some dismantled temple. Thus 
 did he employ himself, " trainant sa vie de fatigues 
 en fatigues^ comme pour se distraire de lui 
 m^me" 
 
 Every evening he returned to his lodgings where 
 he had engaged a boat to be at his service ; into 
 this he would spring, and bidding the man to pull 
 him to Naples, would fling himself down in a 
 gloomy silence that seemed to quell the spirits of 
 the lively Neapolitan and still his loquacity. Thus 
 would they proceed in unbroken taciturnity, except 
 that the boatman would sometimes raise a strange 
 wild song, so melancholy in its long protracted 
 tones, that Julian would permit him to continue 
 it without interruption. As soon as he landed, he 
 would seek the Padrone di casa, with whom Lord 
 Sylvester had lodged, and whom he had engaged 
 
 o 2
 
 292 CONSTANCY. 
 
 to procure his letters for him, and taking in any 
 that awaited him, would return whence he came. 
 
 But we will not transcribe the dispatches which 
 Julian received, but rather prefer following Lord 
 Sylvester to Rome in the belief that we shall be 
 able to give a detail of many facts which were con- 
 cealed from his eyes, and to elucidate many circum- 
 stances that appeared to him involved in myster)^ 
 
 Night was beginning to close in when Lord Syl- 
 vester entered Rome, and he immediately hastened 
 to the Palazzo — . The servant who answered his 
 summons started with astonishment on recognizing 
 him. 
 
 " Sta in casa il Signorino ?" was Lord Sylvester's 
 impatient demand. 
 
 " Eh ! Milor — e partito !" replied Felice, with 
 many shrugs of surprise and dismay — " e la Signora 
 madre — she is very ill, and Miss Ratcliffe at the 
 point of death." 
 
 "But not now ? She is recovering, is she 
 not?" 
 
 Eh ! Chi sa ! She has never quitted her 
 chamber." 
 
 " But what do you mean by saying that Mr. 
 Wentworth is gone ? Gone ! When ? Where ?" 
 
 " To England. He departed yesterday." 
 
 Lord Sylvester paused for a moment to restrain 
 the indignation which this reply awoke. Then, 
 with as much coolness of manner as he could com- 
 mand, he said : 
 
 *' I will go in and see Lady Sylvester."
 
 CONSTANCY. 293 
 
 He passed the servant and opening the door 
 himself, stood before Lady Sylvester. She 
 started on beholding him, but it was more with 
 dismay than surprise. She sank down again on 
 the seat from which she had risen, and covered her 
 face with her hands. Lord Sylvester, confident 
 that Wentworth's departure must have been sanc- 
 tioned, and probably instigated by her, was ill dis- 
 posed to feel tenderly towards her. Otherwise this 
 visible emotion, the sobs that now became audible, 
 the change in her appearance since he last saw her, 
 for she looked iU and harassed, and robbed by 
 anxiety of all appearance of youth, might have 
 touched him with compassion. As it was, he 
 maintained a rigid silence. At length, however, 
 finding that she did not attempt to remove the 
 handkerchief that concealed her face from his view, 
 he said with a chilling coldness : 
 
 " I find that Arundel has left you. How could 
 he do so at such a time ? If I had not returned 
 what were you to do ? And who so fit to be at 
 Miss Ratcliffe's side, in such an hour, as her 
 affianced husband ?" 
 
 " Her affianced husband !" exclaimed Lady Syl- 
 vester ; " that claim to be beside her had never 
 received a parent's sanction, and now, alas ! must 
 for ever be resigned. I need not surely explain to 
 you the impossibihty of such a thing. You know 
 your brother's circumstances. Could he exchange 
 situations with you, he might enjoy the happiness 
 of conferring affluence on the woman he loves ; but
 
 294 CONSTANCY. 
 
 now he could only, by delaying his departure, have 
 aggravated the pain of separation, which must 
 eventually have been endured. Thank Heaven ! he 
 did not so selfishly consult his own wishes ! No, 
 he has torn himself from her side, and is hastening 
 to England; by so doing, he may yet in some 
 measure serve this unfortunate girl. And let me 
 add, that my poor Mercedes is no less alive to the 
 propriety of this proceeding than we are. Her first 
 thought was to declare my son free from all en- 
 gagements entered into before this fatal occur- 
 rence." 
 
 " And he accepted this freedom ?" inquired Lord 
 Sylvester, without any outward sign of indigna- 
 tion. 
 
 "This, they both felt, was the only course he 
 could pursue that would not tend to embitter their 
 future existence." 
 
 " Would a proof of disinterested affection have 
 had only that effect ?" 
 
 Lady Sylvester reddened violently at this ques- 
 tion ; but evading it, she again strove to move her 
 son-in-law to commiseration. 
 
 " I am absolutely distracted whenever I think on 
 this subject," she continued. " What am I to do ? 
 How can I ever get Mercedes back to England, and 
 to her own friends ?" (Lord Sylvester was well 
 aware by this time that the unhappy orphan was 
 not among her own friends.) " How painful to 
 think that it is quite impossible for her to travel 
 home at all in the way in which she came hither."
 
 CONSTANCY. 295 
 
 " Why surely," exclaimed Lord Sylvester, " her 
 expences could not have added very greatly to that 
 of your journey ?" 
 
 Lady Sylvester reddened again, and with a face 
 of confusion and shame, hastily returned, 
 
 " How do you think all this will end ? Surely 
 if wealth is gone, a respectable maintenance wiE be 
 saved for this girl out of the wreck of her father's 
 enormous fortune ?" 
 
 " I fear not, if her father's creditors are to be 
 first satisfied. And I am afraid," said Lord Syl- 
 vester, with a contemptuous emphasis on the word, 
 " that the same sense of propriety that led Miss 
 RatcHffe to give Arundel his liberty, will make her 
 desire that they should be considered before her- 
 self." 
 
 At these words, Lady Sylvester looked quite dis- 
 mayed, and little pleased with the severity of Lord 
 Sylvester's manner, she rose, and declared herself 
 too much exhausted to prolong the conversation.
 
 296 CONSTANCY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 It were 
 More pleasing to me if alone I saw her. 
 Trust me, she will behave herself the more 
 Collectedly. 
 
 There are sorrows 
 Where of necessity, the soul must be 
 Its own support. 
 
 In her own bosom 
 Must she collect 
 The strength to rise superior to this blow. 
 
 COLERIDGE. 
 
 The next morning Lord Sylvester had another 
 interview with his mother-in-law. The interval 
 that had intervened, during which both had 
 reflected deeply, had made a change in her man- 
 ner, such as might have deceived any one but 
 Lord Sylvester, whose knowledge of her cha- 
 racter, the result of an intimate study of it for 
 years, rendered it quite impossible that he should 
 suddenly give credit to appearances so unlike the 
 reality which he had hitherto known, or trust in 
 the existence of motives and sentiments so contra- 
 dictory to all those which he had so often formerly 
 detected in her. 
 
 Nevertheless, so perfect was this piece of acting 
 on the part of Lady Sylvester, that she did not once 
 lay herself open to detection by the smallest in-
 
 CONSTANCY. 297 
 
 consistency in any of her words and professions. 
 Nothing could exceed the solicitude which she dis- 
 played when speaking of Mercedes ; nor could the 
 delicacy with which she treated of her affairs be 
 surpassed. She did not pretend to agree with 
 Lord Sylvester's views of the case; she asserted 
 some very different opinions, as with respect to the 
 necessity of Arundel's departure. While she did 
 not conceal from him that she was alive to the 
 existence of suspicions injurious to herself in his 
 mind, she still behaved with a gentle firmness and 
 dignity of demeanour that surprised him. She 
 showed plainly, though not in words, that she felt 
 deeply wounded and aggrieved by these doubts ; 
 she did not repel them with resentment, but 
 rather seemed prepared to prove them unjust by 
 her conduct. She also displayed a candour which 
 was a new trait in her character, and the one least 
 looked for by her son-in-law\ She confessed to 
 him when they began to discuss the best means 
 of removing Mercedes to England, that in their 
 journey to Italy she had allowed the whole expense 
 to devolve on her then wealthy companion, for 
 her own narrow income would have been perfectly 
 inadequate to maintain the luxurious style in which 
 they had travelled and lived ; and Mr. Ratclifie 
 had been very willing to defray the whole of 
 their expenditure up to the present time, in return 
 for the advantageous position in which his daughter 
 was placed by the introduction which Lady Syl- 
 vester gave her into society far above her in rank. 
 
 o 3
 
 298 CONSTANCY. 
 
 At this moment she declared herself to be 
 in urgent distress ; for little apprehensive of so 
 fatal a termination to the wealthy merchant's 
 career, and confident that she never could exceed 
 the bounds of his liberality to his daughter, she 
 had, for her sake indeed, indulged in unlimited 
 expenses which now she knew not how to defray. 
 She bitterly deplored this imprudence, especially 
 because it so wholly incapacitated her from render- 
 ing the smallest assistance to this destitute orphan, 
 whom she would have rejoiced to succour in her 
 hour of need. Her protection and her care were 
 all she had to give. To whom was she to apply 
 for means to convey this almost dying girl back to 
 the relatives she possessed ? 
 
 Perhaps it will be with difficulty believed that 
 Lady Sylvester, at the moment she spoke thus, was 
 perfectly aware that she had still in her hands 
 a considerable sum of money furnished by Mer- 
 cedes' father, but though she had not exactly calcu- 
 lated, she believed that it would scarcely do more 
 than defray the debts which she had incurred 
 in Rome, the whole of which she was resolved 
 to discharge before any portion should be applied 
 to the use of Mercedes. 
 
 At the conclusion of this confession, Lady Syl- 
 vester's conduct had ceased to be a mystery to her 
 son-in-law ; he saw the whole drift of it plainly. He 
 saw that whether her Ladyship was, or was not 
 destitute as she described herself, she would not 
 be induced to expend the smallest sum of money
 
 CONSTANCY. 29? 
 
 on the necessities of her of whose wealth she had 
 so unsparingly availed herself. He saw that her 
 design was to throw Mercedes on his charity, and 
 that all her protestations of affection for her, and 
 of desire to render her all possible services, were 
 only intended to lead him to place power in her 
 hands. Revolting as all this was to him, he could 
 still perceive no other suitable means of conveying 
 Mercedes back to England but in company with 
 Lady Sylvester, or he would gladly have rescued 
 her from this false friend. As it was he could only 
 seek some method of placing a check on Lady 
 Sylvester's conduct that should make it, in some 
 measure at least, such as he could desire. 
 
 After weighing the subject with deliberation, 
 he determined to discard that delicacy which had 
 made him abstain from any attempt to see Mer- 
 cedes, and now to request to do so in order to 
 incite her to face the irremediable difficulties of 
 her situation as soon as possible. He easily fore- 
 saw that a time might arrive when the belief 
 of being under pecuniary obligations to Lady Syl- 
 vester might be a most painful burden to Miss 
 Ratcliffe ; and he resolved, though he must do 
 violence to his own feelings and to hers, to 
 make known to her the real footing on which 
 she stood. He found on mentioning his desire 
 to Lady Sylvester, that she had not as yet commu- 
 nicated his arrival to Mercedes; she now offered to 
 do so, but as to his further request, she replied 
 with an air of astonishment and hauteur :
 
 300 CONSTANCY. 
 
 *' You cannot really mean to ask this : it is im- 
 possible for her to comply with your wish." 
 
 " Why so ?" replied Lord Sylvester drily. " As 
 I came here solely to serve Miss Ratcliffe, I do not 
 intend to depart without hearing from her own 
 lips how I can best do so. I do not see the impos- 
 sibilitv of which you speak, nor, perhaps, will 
 she."^ 
 
 Lady Sylvester, though greatly alarmed and dis- 
 pleased at this proposition, did not dare to refuse 
 compliance. She went to perform her task, and 
 w^hen she returned, in an altered tone, she said : 
 
 " You were right ; Mercedes will see you. She 
 is quite as anxious to do so as you could desire. 
 She is going to rise for the first time, and will see 
 you as soon after noon as you please. Fix your hour, 
 and I will be ready to acccompany you to her." 
 
 " Thank you," replied Lord Sylvester, in no 
 degree relaxing from his former inflexibility. " I 
 should wish to visit Miss Ratcliffe alone. Painful 
 this interview must be, and I believe that it will be 
 far better for me to see her alone, than in the pre- 
 sence of any other person." 
 
 Lady Sylvester could not venture on the expres- 
 sion of any dissatisfation, eager as she w\as to be 
 relieved from the embarrassments of her present 
 situation. 
 
 When Lord Sylvester prepared for this inter- 
 view he remembered the letter which Julian had 
 entrusted to him, and resolved to take this oppor- 
 tunity of fulfilling his injunctions with respect to i t
 
 CONSTANCY. 301 
 
 At length the appointed hour arrived, and Lady 
 Sylvester conducted him to the door of the cham- 
 ber in which was Mercedes. When he entered 
 and beheld her whom he had left so young, so 
 bright and blooming, he was inexpressibly shocked, 
 and the idea crossed his mind that she was des- 
 tined to be but for a little while the sport of 
 fortune, or the victim of unkindness. She lay 
 upon a couch, and her frame seemed attenuated 
 and enfeebled to an almost incredible degree. The 
 colour had entirely fled from her cheek and lips, 
 and the ghastly paleness of her hue was increased 
 by her mournful garb, and the heavy negligent 
 tresses of her dark hair that hung around her face. 
 For some time she did not make any attempt 
 to speak or to move ; a cold dew stood upon her 
 face, which assumed even a more ashy paleness. 
 She could not weep, tears were denied her ; she 
 felt a death-like oppression, and lay almost insensi- 
 ble, and more resembling a marble statue than a 
 living being. 
 
 Lord Sylvester, in spite of his efforts, in spite of 
 his desire for her sake to be calm, could not refrain 
 from tears.* He seated himself beside her, and 
 taking one of her hands, which was icy as death, 
 pressed it tenderly to his lips, saying in a voice 
 scarcely audible from emotion : 
 
 " Mercedes, I must be your brother. You must 
 henceforward think of me in no other light. You 
 must lay your cares upon me. Speak to me, Mer- 
 cedes, it will relieve you to tell all that lies at your 
 heart. You must not think yourself alone."
 
 302 CONSTANCY. 
 
 Mercedes drew away the hand he held, and join- 
 ing it to her other, clasped them upon her breast, 
 and raising her eyes with fervour to Heaven, she 
 murmured : 
 
 " No, I am not alone !" 
 
 Her lips continued moving as if in prayer, and 
 even in that hour of anguish Lord Sylvester per- 
 ceived the dawning of holy peace within her trou- 
 bled breast. After a pause he said gently : 
 
 " Will you accept me as a brother, Mercedes ?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Mercedes, in a low voice, and 
 with a shudder she added, " until you change." 
 
 " So be it," answered Lord Sylvester, solemnly, 
 " until I change." He paused; then he continued, 
 "If I am to be yoiu* brother you must let me 
 tell you what I would counsel you to do. I have 
 already thought on what will be best for you, and I 
 wiU arrange every thing, and render it easy and 
 practicable, if you will follow my advice. But shall 
 I leave you now and come again ?" 
 
 " No," exclaimed Mercedes, " stay with me now. 
 Oh !" she said, for the first time bursting into 
 tears, " indeed I do not desire to be so much alone." 
 
 Lord Sylvester touched by these words, let 
 her weep unrestrainedly, and offered no comment 
 on her tears. As she became gradually com- 
 posed again, he told her that he advised her," 
 as soon as she could travel, to proceed at once 
 to England under Lady Sylvester's protection ; he 
 explained to her that he would prevent, by his 
 previous arrangements, any of the cares of the 
 journey from devolving on her, and besought her
 
 CONSTANCY. 303 
 
 not to hesitate to allow him for the present to 
 afford her every facihty in her return home that 
 was necessary. He said his own arrival in England 
 would probably be but a few months later, and 
 he implored her not to turn her thoughts to 
 the transaction of business, until he or some 
 other friend on whom she could rely, was on the 
 spot with her. " It will be only harassing your 
 mind uselessly, and, I believe, that your interests 
 are as safe as they can be, in the hands of Maxwell 
 and of the executors, who are men of high cha- 
 racter." He ended by giving her Julian's letter, 
 which he advised her to transmit to his mother 
 as soon as possible, and also to apply to any of her 
 own relatives whom she should select as soon as 
 she reached England. He tried to hold out hopes 
 of kindness on Lady Sylvester's part, but more 
 particularly added : " in Wilmot you have a friend 
 actuated by the most devoted sentiments of grati- 
 tude, and prepared to serve you at the cost of any 
 efforts or sacrifices, and I doubt not that Mrs. 
 Wilmot will welcome you with a mother's love." 
 
 To these kind and soothing words, Mercedes 
 listened with silent tears. She acquiesced in all 
 Lord Sylvester's suggestions, nor could she refuse 
 services which were absolutely indispensable. She 
 comforted herself with the hope which Lord Sylvester 
 lent her every encouragement to entertain, that the 
 pecuniary favours she was constrained to accept were 
 but of a temporary nature, and though she made no 
 complaints, and scarcely any allusions to her friend-
 
 304 CONSTANCY. 
 
 lessness, nor spoke of Lady Sylvester's altered tone, 
 she coald not listen without evident satisfaction, 
 while Lord Sylvester made her aware that all her 
 former friend would now hestow upon her, was 
 a continuance of her protection, and that she would 
 not, in their journey homewards, have to exchange 
 situations with her, and to receive from her hands 
 those gifts which she had formerly so lavishly be- 
 stowed. Though Mercedes scarcely mentioned Lady 
 Sylvester and never once her son, Lord Sylvester dis- 
 covered, without difficulty, that her opinions had un- 
 dergone a complete change with regard to them. 
 Lord Sylvester finally informed her, that after he had 
 completed all requisite arrangements, he should 
 again leave Rome. When she heard this, she bid 
 him bear her thanks to Julian, and strove to thank 
 him herself, but words could not express the depth 
 of her feelings, and she saw him depart in silence 
 and tears more eloquent than language could have 
 been.
 
 CONSTANCY. 305 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 Still on Him that died 
 Thine eye shall dwell. Thy feet may totter 'neath 
 Thy daily cross of sufferings, yet on Him 
 Thy soul shall feed, till .... 
 
 Upon thy drooping soul there seem to smile 
 Unearthly peace. 
 
 THOUGHTS IN PAST YEARS. 
 
 When again deprived, by Lord Sylvester's depar- 
 ture, of the solacing presence of a sincere friend, 
 Mercedes felt more than ever wretched. Her 
 misery became almost insupportable, and at times 
 she contemplated her situation with dismay, deeming 
 it impossible that in such intolerable anguish, she 
 could continue to possess life and reason ; one or 
 the other would surely abandon her. A command 
 to lay down the first would have been a glad bidding 
 to the unhappy orphan, and in hours of distraction 
 she would sometimes exclaim : 
 
 " Oh, when will the hour of death come ! What 
 pains of death could compare to these ! When 
 may I die ! When may I go hence, and be no more 
 seen !" 
 
 But there was another voice besides that of 
 Nature speaking in Mercedes' bosom, and while 
 the latter cried loudly in the wildest accents of 
 woe, the first in still small tones, the clear sweet-
 
 306 CONSTANCY. 
 
 ness of which, made them heard in spite of the 
 shrill din of tumultuous passion, uttered soothing 
 truths of a nature so divine, that they rendered 
 her gradually inaccessible to all contrary thoughts, 
 and filled her mind with a strength that overcame 
 aU warring adversaries of her peace, and gave her 
 the mastery in that conflict, wherein He who 
 made the human heart in which lies the battle- 
 field of mortal strife, can alone be victorious. 
 
 Grief may be forcibly expelled from the heart 
 it has invaded. The aid of exterior things 
 when sought, and is sometimes powerful enough to 
 obtain possession of that place to which grief had 
 advanced a claim. The call to mourning is for- 
 gotten, and reckless mirth is by force installed 
 where sorrow should be sitting upon the ground. 
 These measures are desperate, and their result is 
 fatal, for those who employ them do but cry ' peace, 
 peace, where there is no peace,' and for ever forego 
 that blessing which is promised to those who mourn. 
 But Mercedes had no temptation to act thus. 
 There were no exterior circumstances around her 
 to distract her from herself, and bear her away 
 from her grief; she was forced to encounter it in 
 all its sternness : but she discovered other and 
 better means of divesting its sting of half its poig- 
 nancy, and of fortifying herself against the inroads 
 of an enemy, who, contemplated from afar, ap- 
 peared invincible. She found that feeble and timid 
 as she was, could she assume that armour which 
 is prepared and appointed for all the soldiers of
 
 CONSTANCY. 307 
 
 Christ, — for the weak and sickly not too weighty, 
 and equally indispensable for the strong and the 
 experienced — she would be endued with a strength 
 to resist, and a fortitude to endure that no adver- 
 saries nor hardships could quell. She felt that 
 the unceasing contemplation of gospel truths, the 
 unceasing study of gospel precepts, afforded to her 
 fainting soul that support which w^holesome food 
 gives to the body. Perpetually drinking at that 
 fountain from which she found that she drew li\dng 
 waters, Mercedes rose up refreshed, invigorated, 
 and enabled to stem the torrent of ill-fortune with 
 a resolution that amazed Lady Sylvester, who had 
 known her * in her softer hours,' and little disposed 
 to give her credit for innate vigour of character, 
 was at a loss to discover the origin of that strength 
 which she now displayed. 
 
 To her eyes it was not discernible, that from 
 the germ of religion, when firmly rooted in the 
 heart, springs up a goodly tree overshadowing the 
 land, beneath whose branches, the believing pilgrim 
 on his journey, finds an acceptable shelter from 
 the blasts of the East wind in the day of adversity, 
 and from the scorching rays of the noontide sun 
 in the day of prosperity, secured alike from the 
 dangers of either extreme. She had not discovered 
 in the gentleness, sweetness, and truth that marked 
 Mercedes' character; in the total absence of art, 
 and of every feeling of jealousy and malice; in 
 the warm generosity and benevolence of her heart; — 
 the uninterrupted sway of one pervading principle,
 
 308 CONSTANCY. 
 
 to which every sentiment was in subjection. She 
 believed her happy in the enjoyment of an amiability 
 of disposition, equally a source of delight to herself 
 and to her friends, but as merely accidental as high 
 or low stature, dark or fair hair. She acknowledged 
 readily in the day of prosperity, 
 
 Her bounty, sweetness, beauty, goodness, such 
 That none e'er thought her happiness too much. 
 So well mchned her favours to confer. 
 And kind to all as Heaven had been to her. 
 
 But her knowledge of the faultlessness of Mercedes' 
 conduct in her former situation had not led her to 
 look for a display of qualities befitting the reverse 
 of fortune which she had experienced. She saw 
 not that Mercedes was still under the direction of 
 the same guide, still actuated by the same spirit ; 
 that she had one sole example to which she strove 
 to be conformed. That of Him whose precepts in- 
 culcate alike self-abasement in the hour of great- 
 ness, and serenity, and patience in that of suffering : 
 — who led her to seek the lowest seat in the house of 
 feasting, and bid her be grateful, were it but for 
 the crumbs that fell from the children's table : — 
 who taught her by His own example not to with- 
 draw her lips from the bitterest cup whereof 
 humanity can drink; nor did she seek to turn 
 away from it, for it was given her to see that it 
 was His hand that proffered it to her, and she drank 
 of the draught, and found that there was health in it. 
 Mercedes soon understood that the best mode 
 of strengthening herself to bear the present, was
 
 CONSTANCY. 309 
 
 by resolutely closing her eyes to the future. She 
 determined to fulfil to the letter the injunction to 
 take no thought for the morrow, and to apply her- 
 self solely to that task which called for all her 
 vigour, the endurance of her existing sorrow. By 
 this means she shut out the crowd of imaginary 
 evils, perhaps never to be realised, and sufficient 
 indeed for the day was the evil thereof. She had 
 to accustom her sad heart to bear with the know- 
 ledge that her beloved father was dead — that she 
 never was to see him again — never to cling to his 
 bosom again — never to speak to him again — never 
 to be spoken to by his voice again — never to con- 
 sult him again — never to ask any favour or indul- 
 gence from him again — never to cheer him in 
 hours of fatigue or depression again — never to 
 share the buoyancy of mirth with him again — never 
 to kneel at Heaven's throne with him again — never 
 again to enter with him the visible temple of their 
 God, together to utter praises and offer prayers. 
 
 This was enough. Mercedes felt that it was 
 better to strive to reconcile herself to this grief 
 before she went on to encounter others; before 
 she went on to calculate future evils, and the diffi- 
 culties, dangers, and distress, that probably awaited 
 her on her return to her native land. Conscious 
 that she was destitute of any means of making pro- 
 vision against the coming tempest, she averted her 
 eyes from the gloomy prospect. 
 
 Faith was her comfort, faith her stay. 
 She trusted woe would pass away, 
 And evil yield to good.
 
 310 CONSTANCY. 
 
 She knew that dark as were the clouds that now 
 lowered, they might unexpectedly be illumined, 
 or even dissipated by a sudden ray of sunshine. 
 If she looked onward to the future, it was to 
 one more distant still, but the promises of which 
 were secure; her gaze was directed far on to 
 the land which is " a delightsome land ;" where 
 the glorious sun " shall no more go down," never 
 yielding to the shades of night, for sleep is not 
 needed to refresh the weary, nor to bring forgetful- 
 ness to the wretched, for there " the days of mourn- 
 ing are ended." 
 
 Thus abstracted from the cares of this world, 
 thus fortified against its keenest sorrows, the same 
 means enabled Mercedes also to submit in patience 
 to all the inferior wounds, provocations, and slights, 
 which she too frequently received from her heartless 
 companion : 
 
 Yoked in her gentle mood 
 To stem annoyances of petty strife 
 That weary the worn spirit out of life. 
 
 She manifested no resentment, whatever were 
 the unkindnesses of Lady Sylvester, and they were 
 many — not always definable, but not therefore the 
 less galling. The indelicacy with which she would 
 fall on topics which Mercedes scarcely dared to ap- 
 proach in thought — remembrances which in the 
 night season would steal into her mind when be- 
 tween sleeping and waking, making her restlessly 
 change her position, as if to escape from the pres- 
 sure of a crushing weight, or to remove out of
 
 CONSTANCY. S 1 1 
 
 sight of the agonizing vision that rose up before 
 her — phantoms which, haunting her, would some- 
 times cause her to start up from her sleep, waking 
 herself by the sharp cry of anguish which she 
 uttered — forebodings which she did not dare to 
 investigate, but whenever they suggested them- 
 selves, would strive to turn speedily to some 
 thought, or better still, some occupation distinct 
 from the subjects which gave them birth — all these 
 sources of exquisite pain were but too often opened 
 by a careless word, an unkind hasty expression, an 
 ill-timed counsel, a cruel hint from the lips of Lady 
 Sylvester. Still she never by a gesture of impa- 
 tience, but seldom by a burst of supplicatory tears, 
 rebuked her half wilful, half unconscious tor- 
 mentor. 
 
 Lady Sylvester herself was beyond measure as- 
 tonished at the extraordinary calmness and equa- 
 nimity maintained by Miss Ratcliffe ; and, unnatural 
 and barbarous as it may seem, she was at times 
 incensed by it. She one day declared to a lady, 
 who remarked on it in terms of mingled surprise 
 and admiration, that for her part the girl's insensi- 
 bility absolutely amazed her. " She never seems," 
 she exclaimed, " to feel that she is, in all probability, 
 a beggar — that she has lost station, respectability, 
 every thing !" 
 
 " I think she feels that she has lost a father," 
 was the reply which brought a tinge of shame to 
 Lady Sylvester's cheek, and her reprover longed to
 
 3 1 2 CONSTANCY. 
 
 add : " Perhaps also she knows that she has lost a 
 friend." But the speaker was one whom inter- 
 course with the world had habituated to the mental 
 reservation of those unwelcome truths which her 
 penetration discovered ; so she said no more. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed by Schulae and Co., 13, Poland Street.
 
 THIS TALE 
 
 IS INSCRIBED TO 
 
 MY SISTER, 
 
 For thee,— my own sweet sister — in thy heart 
 I know myself secure, as thou in mine. 
 We were and are — I am even as thou art — 
 Beings who ne'er each other can resign. 
 It is the same— together or apart — 
 From life's commencement to its slow decline, 
 We are entwined. 
 
 BTRON.
 
 J^
 
 ,^:|^^^i 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 041694370 
 
 
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