1 ' ONIVLKbUr Or »l-UNOIS LIBRARY 'Vi URBANAO^AM^ m GERALDINE FAUCONBERG. VOL. T. » Printed by S. Hamilton, Weybridge, Surxy. GERALDINE FAUCONBERG. IN THREE VOLUMES. BY THE AUTHOR OF CLARENTINE. •^w o^' A spirit that with noble pride. When injured or offended never tried Its dignity by vengeance to maintain. But by magnanimous disdain. LTTTpLTON. VOL. I. LONDON: PRINTED FOR G. WILKIE AND 3. ROBINSON, 57, PATERNOSTER-ROW, 1808. ■^ ^ ^O v.\ ^ f- To Mrs. **^****^^, jects for them of their family, did any thing cbut render them secure, indiiferent, and often averse. The mischief, however — if such it proves — is ah'eaay done. Let u«f avoid increasing it by any ofiicioiisness in showing them off to each other. Geraldine has accompHshments of mind, and graces of person, which, highly as I think of ycmr son, are fully equal to the advantages he can boast. Let them gradually become ac- quainted with the merits they respectively possess ; and rest assured, my dear madam, that should Lesmore even betray at first any reluctance to forward our designs — a cir- cumstance which, from all I have observed of his independent spirit, 1 cannot help thinking extremely probable — I shall be in no haste to change my views. Though difficult to please, yet he has a heart which cannot always remain insensible to the at- taching qualities of my happily-endowed. Geraldine. Were she even divested of those personal attractions -sviiich so eminently distinguish her; were she devoid of every talent wdiich can compel admiration, still the most cynical observer could not long- inhabit the same house with her, without 4 feeling liimself irresistibly impelled to con- fer upon her the meed of affectionate ap- probation to which her temper and dispo- sition so justl}^ entitle her. From infancy, her great merit has been the singular and total exemption from every species of self- ishness which has invariably marked her character. There is no sacrifice she w^ould not make to friendship or to duty : and this liberality of mind is accompanied in her, more than in any being I ever knew, with what Sterne so admirably denominates " festivity of temper.'* I might justly add, in the words of the same author, " it sup- plies all defects — her looks are a constant resource in all difficulties or distresses." — M}^ Geraldine is, indeed, in the fullest sense of the expression, " a complexional philo- sopher." She feels, but she never repines; she is^ benevolent, but she never parades. Simple in her manners, ingenuous and af- fectionate, she seems to understand, in its highest perfection, the rare and happy art of diffusing contentment and cheerfulness throughout a domestic circle. Can such an attaching creature become thorouglily known to your son, and not be loved ? Im- possible. I have' almost from their child- hood thought their hearts were formed for contributing to the felicity of each other. Lesmore, however high-spirited, is neither rash nor arrogant ; he is open to convic- tion : and even when going wrong, if tem- perately dealt with, is capable of the most generous contrition. He is a feiTent ad- mirer of whatever adorns and dignifies so.- ciety; genius and talents of every descrip- tion he reveres; an honourable or liberal action never failed to awaken his enthu- siasm ; and to all that is artful or mean- spirited his nature is nobly abhorrent. The very coldness he betrays respecting the match with mv niece, manifests a careless- ness of this v/orkUs paltry pelf, that can only proceed from a magnanimous and dis- interested temper. Few would be the men, whether young or old, who, from the con- ception of some, vague prejudices against her, would incur the danger of losing so wealthy an heiress. May the danger and the prejudices be all happily cHspelled, is the fervent wish of, Dear Aladam, Your devoted friend and humble servant, Frederic Archer. P. S. Geraldine, apprised of my inten- tion of Avritinsr to vou, desires me to insert her thanks for the favour of Miss Lesmore's eoiiipany ; and her hope, that whatever may be the length of your own visit, you wilt not abridge that of her young friend, whose society, she says, you promised her for three months. LETTER IL MISS LESMORE TO HER SISTER, MRS. LUiAILEY. Highgrove Park, Aug. 18. They have met, my dear Augusta, and I hasten to give you the particulars of an interview so interesting to us all. I know not very well why, but Mr. Archer seemed persuaded the party would not be here till evening. They drove up to the door, however, yesterday, a full hour before dinner, and had been in the house above twenty minutes, before either Ge- raldine or I knew they were arrived. — Where do you think we w-ere, and how do you imagine we were employed? Why, having been out on horseback the greatest part of, the morning, and returning home heated and fatigued, we went up to take off our riding habits, and afterwards esta- blished ourselves, each with a book in her 8 hand, upon the sofa in Geraldine's dressing- room. Just as we had turned to the right page, and were beginning to read, we heard something fall down in the room over head (which has been converted into a nursery for our sister Davenant's cliildren whilst they remain here), and the moment after, were frightened by the sound of a shrill scream. Persuaded that one of the poor little creatures had fallen, and sustained some hurt, we started from our seats, and flew up stairs. The mischief, however, proved but slight: the youngest boy, it is true, had slipped down in running across the floor; but the scream did not proceed from him, nor was it even occasioned by the alarm his accident excited : H was simply and solely a mournful effusion of regret, issninar from the melodious throat of the nurserv-maid, at sight of the over- ihrow of a boatful of delicate pap, prepared for the baby, v/liich, when falling himself, povO" linle Edward had knocked down. We rejoiced that the evil was no greater; and then, being seized captives by the three 9 children, always eager for a romp, were inveigled into their service for a game of blindman's-buff. I first consented to wear the bandeau ; and after some time, having secured the person of Geraldine, assisted in blinding her. The nursery-maid joined in the sport ; every body was in motion ex- cept Mrs. Nurse, who, with the infant on her lap, mxaintained her dignity, and sat aloof near one of the windows. The noise we all made, I believe, was no trifle ! — However that may be, we were at the very height of our gambols when the door opened, and the heads of my mother and our Caroline appeared at it, peeping over each other. The former, seeing who was performing the part of blindmaiiy put her finger up to her lips, to enjoin silence, and, with my sister, crept softly forward, fol- lowed by Ferdinand. They all three stood motionless near the door; and the children, longing to fly to Caroline, yet intimidated by the sign their grandmother had made, remained staring and wondering, forgetful of their game, and impatient to know what B 5 10 was to follow. Meanwhile poor GerakUiie, unconscious of the presence of so many- witnesses, her hair dishevelled, her arms extended,^ and her eyes still impenetrably covered, wandered about for some time, hoping every minute to secure a successor to an employment of wliich she began to be heartily weary : but failing of success, and surprised at the general silence, she, at last, murmured to herself — " I am sure I heard the door open — per- haps they have all left the room." She was then preparing to pull down the handker- chief bound across her eyes; but my mo- ther uttering a faint " hem!'* she mistook the voice for mine, and, guided by its sound, directed her steps towards the spot where stood the intruding group, and caught fast hold of Ferdinand. " Why, Julia," cried she, feeling the sleeve of his coat, '' have you slipped on your habit again?" Receiving no answer, but still maintaining her hold, she slid her h*and from his shoidder up to his face, and becoming sensible, I suppose, of some un- 11 accountable difference between his chin and mine, she grasped him firmly by the arm, and saying, with a laugh— " O, it is my uncle!" drew down the handkerchief which had hitherto concealed from her our treachery. Judge of her sur- prise and confusion, when she discovered her situation — standing close to a young stranger of whom she had fast hold, and whom she had been so unceremoniously touching — an object of attention to every body else in the room, and the obvious ex- citer of -a general smile. Poor Geraldine ! I really pitied her, though, at first, I w as cruel enough to simper a little myself: but she looked so unaffectedly distressed, and shame dyed her lovely face with so deep a blush, that I hastily called out — '' My dearest Geraldine, do not be so concerned ! It is only my brother, and he has been a partaker in many a game of blindman*s-bulf himself!" She recovered a little on hearing who Ferdinand was, and making a slight courtesy to him, held out her hands to my mother 12 Gild Caroline, saying, in a tone of genllo reproach — ■ " How could yoii thus surprise me? Were 1 less glad to see ^'^ou both, I shoidd be half tempted to quarn^l with you.'' " No, my sweet girl, do not quarrel with US,'' cried mv mother, fondly embracing; /her; " ours was no premeditated intrusion: for, till we opened the door, we knew not that vou and Julia were here." " And if w^ had," said Caroline, sitting down and collecting her children round her, -' would it have been inexcusable in the mother of these innocent little creatures, to have felt eager to witness your good-na- tured participation in their pastimes? My dearest girl, you must not only forgive us, and banish all causeless embarrassment, but accept my most sincere acknowledge- ments for the notice vou have condescended 10 bestow upon your happy young in- mate%." Geraldine, much revived by this grateful and well-bred speech, was now emboldened to look up, and perceived, probably not 13 without secret satisfaction, that Ferdinanc had quietly withdrawn himself. Mr. Arche] and Madame de St. Hermine had by thii time joined us, and we all remained in the nursery, amusing ourselves with the child ren, till dispersed to our several chamber: I by the sound of the dressing-bell. During the short time Ferdinand hac continued with us, I could not but observe with some degree of displeasure, the almosi unmoved, and chilling expression of his countenance. You know, with all his ad- vantages of face and person, what a solemn I had nearly said, forbidding look, he car sometimes wear. Towards us, his fine darl^ eyes generally beam affection and indulg- ence ; but we have often seen that he can appear more dry and reserved than any old stoic upon record. Such, or almost such, did he appear upon the present occasion. Instead of surveying the dear girl with en- couraging good humour, he eyed her with mortifying indifference ; stood erect ^nd formal while she held his arm ; and as soon as she discovered her mistake, made a grave 14 bow, and, without addressing to her a single word, stalked frigidly away ! My dear sis- ter, does he never remind you of the fasti- dious personage whose character enter- tained us so much when we read it together in some French author ? " En parlant a une persomie qiCil aime, it (I Fair vif et gai ; tres-froid avec les ctrangers ; il traite duremcnt ceux qiCd meprise ; na ricn a dire d ceux qui lui sont indifferens, et dexienl tout-d-fait imbecille quand on renfiuie"^.'* In the evenins: I v/ill conclude mv ac- count of their further proceedings with re- gard to each other, during the short time they have been under the same roof: I am now called away to join a party upon the water. * " III speaking to a person he loves, lils air is ani- " mated and gay ; he is very cold towards strangers ; '* treats harshly those whom he despises ; has nothing " to say to those who are indift'erent to him, and be- " comes a complete idiot when annoyed by folly or '' presumption." Madame Riccoboni. 1 /r Well, my dear Augusta, I now proceed Avith my relation. When we were all as- sembled in the drawing-room, just before dinner, Geraldine and my brother were in- troduced to each other in due form. At table afterwards, he was placed next to her, and appointed her assistant carver, an office of which he acquitted himself dexterously and politely. But his politeness was general ; no conversation passed between them be- yond the common-place questions and an- swers usual at every meal : and the entrance of my sister's two eldest children at dessert, afforded us all a welcome relief from the dulness and taciturnity which seemed creep- ing ui^on us. Ferdinand is, as you well know, particularly fond of children, espe- cially of Caroline's eldest boy, Charles. This lovely little creature he took upon his knee, supplied with fruit, and caressed and attended to with unwearied assiduity during the whole time we remained in the dining- parlour. We sat but a little while ; and on our retiring into the drawing-room, my 16 mother, fatigued by her journeyj threw herself upon a sofa, and, I beheve, fell asleep. Madame de St. Ilermine drew an arm-chair to the window, and took a book, whilst Geraldine, Caroline, and I, strolled out into the garden. The evening was calm and hot ; and after sauntering about for some time, - we all three seated ourselves upon a bench near the river which runs through the pleasure-grounds, and enjoyed a long and comfortable confabulation. At length, ^Ir. Archer and Lesmore joined us : and then we gave up our seat, and, escorted by them, resumed our walk. Pre- sently, ^Irs. Nurse, having put her little charges to bed, and left them, I suppose, to the care of her deputy, appeared in sight, taking her evening stroll. " That nurse of yours, Caroline," observ- ed Lesmore, '' is a very handsome woman." " I think," said I, addressing him in a low voice, '' there is a sort of sympathy between you." " Ridiculous! What can you mean?" *« Why, she condemns and despises 17 childish recreations as much as 7011 do. She looked on while Geraldine and I played at blindman's-biiff in the nursery, with all the discouraging austerity I afterwards ob- served in your stately countenance." " Pooh! I did not show^ any austerity or stateliness!" " Indeed you did.'* *' Why, my dear Julia, what could you expect me to say or do? There is certainly nothing censurable in playing at blindman*s- bufF, neither is there any thing very merito- rious in it. I could not be in ecstasy at such a sight ! It is a very common one : it calls forth no graces of person, or ingenuity of mind. What, then, let me repeat, could you reasonably expect me to say upon so insignificant an occasion?" " I pretend not to prescribe to youavhat you might have said : but allow me just to observe, that your manner was more seri- . ous, and implied more contempt, than, all things considered, I think you were war- ranted in showing. You are prejudiced asrainst ^liss Fauconberij:. Had vou sur- 18 prised any other young vv^oman in a similar predicament, you would have manifested more gallantry and good nature." To this he made no direct answer j and after sauntering on some minutes in silence, I attempted to renew the cpnversation. " Do you think Miss Fauconber«: hand- some?" " Yes ; the most inveterate prejudice could not deny her that praise." Here fmaliy ended our little dialogue. I remained somewhat disturbed and discom- fited, and secretly determined scrupulously to forbear ever making Geraldine the sub- ject of any future discourse with my brother. After tea, our two gentlemen amused themselves with turning over some new pamphlets Mr. Archer has lately received from town. Geraldine, wdio usually draws in the evening, chose, howxver, on the present occasion, to become a member of the work-table. We all displayed great notability, both of fingers and tongue, for a considerable time: but at last, Caroline starting up, and declaring she had half 19 blinded herself over her tambour-frame, went to the piano-forte, and began playing the symphony of a duet, calling upon Ge- raldine to sing it with her. The perverse little soul, quietly, but steadily declined it. My mother and Caroline both urged her in vain ; and, therefore, the good people were forced to be content with me as her feeble substitute. I was vexed that, Geraldine would not let my brother hear her full- toned, flexible, and touching voice > I am sure he would have admired it, for hers is precisely the style of singing he always professes to delight in : but Madame de St. Hermine, though she did not speak, evi- dently approved her pupil's refusal; and, indeed, has systematically appeared, from the moment Lesmore entered the house, to avoid drawing Geraldine into conversation or notice. She may have good reasons for such a plan of conduct: but I own it is painful to me to see a person I so affection- ately love, encouraged in holding back from observation an understanding the most cul« 20 tivated, and talents so well calculated to excite applause. She, sits like a cipher; a pretty one, we must allow, but perfectly insignificant : if she is spoken to, she an- swers in so low a voice, it is difficult to un- derstand her : she avoids every chance of encountering Ferdinand's eye, and moves about the room, when he is present, as if she wx^re fearful of being chidden for doing something wrong ! All this grieves me : it must lead him to conclude she is weak, that her manners are unformed, and that her ti- midity, the result of conscious inferiority, is rather to be rejoiced at than lamented. That this, or any thing hke this, should be thought of Geraldine Fauconberg, wounds me to the soul. This morning the gentlemen w^ere out on horseback, from breakfast almost to dinner- time. Soon after they returned, our good- humoured brother-in-law,^ Davenant, ar- rived, afid will stay here with Caroline, and their two eldest children, a week longer. My mother leaves us to-morrow, for a few 21 days, to pay a visit to her old friend. Lady Rachel Sinclair : but she is so good as to dispense with my accompanying her. In my next (if I can find time) I will send you the little history of Madame de St. Hermine, which I promised to obtain from Mr. Archer. He related it to me in greater detail than I could have expected, during a ramble I persuaded him to take with me a day or two ago : and I should have made it the principal subject of this very letter, had not the singular, or, more properly speaking, untoward circumstances attending the first interview of Geraldine and Lesmore, driven every thing else out of my thoughts. Adieu, my dearest Augusta, believe me ever, most afiectionately yours, JuUA Lesmore. LETTER III. FERDINAND LESMORF, ESQ. TO THE REV. ARCHIBALD TsEWENDEN. My dear Sir, Highgrove Park, Aug. 20. I AM afraid that the consciousness of doing right does not always mitigate the uneasy sensations that attend the perfonn- ance of what is disagreeable. It was right, you told me, that I should comply with my mother's pressing solicitations, and con- sent to visit the lad}' whom for so many years she has wished me to consider as my destined partner. The situation of my own heart considered, I much doubted whether indeed this teJ«5' a proper measure : I made known to you my scruples, and described to you my reluctance : you still persevered in advising the step; and what weighed with me more even than your utmost elo- cpience, my honoured friend, was the con- 23 solatory sentence with which you con- cluded your exhortation : " You do Miss Fauconberg no injury, " my dear Lesmore, if, after a candid and " impartial investigation of her character, "you. resign all pretension to her hand. " She knows not that vou have been en- " con raged to aspire to it ; and, should you " iinally renounce it, need never receive " the mortif} ing infomiation." How do these words, the longer I reflect upon them, and the longer I am acquainted ivith Miss Fauconberg, comfort and reas- sure me ! My dear friend, she never can become my wife. Whether impelled by the perverseness of human nature to con- sider her with distaste, precisely because I have been urged to regard her with parti- ality, I will not determine : but certain it is, she makes upon me no impressions but such as are unpleasant, and such as I would gladly shake off, by declining the merce- nary alliance .for ever. From the moment I thought myself of an age to consider what species of wife I should prefer, I conceived u an aversion to the idea of marrvinG: a mere romping, pretty girl; one whose manners and disposition were unformed ; whosetastes were childish, and whose turn of mind, as yet dormant or unfixed, might, when free scope was given to its display, prove itself caprici- ous, arrogant, or unfeeling. I may be singu- lar in my notions : but I protest to you, dear sir, I had rather unite myself to a woman some years my senior, whose opinions and habits appeared consistent, than contract an alliance with any raw girl, unacquainted with the world, and, as yet, a stranger even to her own propensities. These very young Alisses, who have been brought up like eastern slaves, destined for a Harem, to attend only, in their impenetrable se- clusion, to the cultivation of their exte- rior accomplishments, and the preservation of their beauty, have no real character, but take the bent of those with whom they first chance to associate on emerging from retirement. During a short period, per- haps, the pretty puppet would allow her husband to guide her in the choice of her 25 pursuits and the selection of her compa- nions : but, in a very little while, she would grow sick of such submission ; and, to say the truth, were I the happy husband, I should not care how soon she struggled to release herself from thraldom. I loathe the thought of having a full-grown baby to di<- rect and watch: if 1 found that her capa- city was slender, I should despise her; if she was obstinate, I should hate her ; and if she was too tame and complying, per- haps I might be brute enough to become her tyrant. By a marriage with Miss Fau- conberg, I incur all these risks. Though, from the age of nine years, she has spent three or four months in London every spring, yet she js as new to the world as if she had been born yesterday. She was too young to go into company, and therefore derived no other advantages from her abode in town than such as an easy access to masters of every description could confer. Since her return into the country this year, she has been at two or three provincial ballg, at a race, and at a few dinners in the neigh- VOL. I. C 26 bourhood. I low well these schools of maa- iiers have fitted her to appear upon the great theatre of life, to judge the charac- te;'s of others, and become acquainted with her own, 1 leave you to decide. This much is incontrovertible, that with an extraordi- nary degree of beauty, and a countenancie that might become highly interesting were it illumined by an intelligent soul, she ap- pears to me, at present, a complete proto- type of insipidity. I have been told much of her various talents, but have yet had no specimen of any. I feel not impatient, however, to be gratified on this head. Few girls of eighteen, even with such opportu- nities as Miss Fauconberg has had, ever acquit themselves so perfectly in any thing they undertake, as to convey unmixed plea- sure to the mind : and what task can be more amioying than that of appearing to attend with' admiration to what can only give qualified delight, and calls for candid allowances F Address to me one of 3^our admonitory epistles, for such I expect your next will o 7 be, at this place. I am under an engage- ment to remain here a month : when I de- part, your vicarage, my dear father-con- fessor, will be the first spot to which I shall hasten, if indeed you can consent to admit so untractable, but grateful, a pupil, friend, and devoted servant, as your Ferdinand Lesmore. 28 LETTER IV. MISS LESMORE TO MRS. LUMLEY. Highgrove Park, My dear Augusta, Aug. 20. I HAVE been internally moralizing the whole morning upon the folly of making needless promises; and to give you a spe- cimen of my sententious powers, will now tell you, that I am decidedly of opinion, no man is wiser than he who determines never to fetter the freedom of his will, by engaging to perform to-morrow what he is repugnant to accomplish to-day ! I taught you, when last 1 wrote, to expect such particulars con- cerning Madame de St. Hermine as I had been enabled to gather ; and now, haunted by the remembrance of my own rash offi- ciousness, I can, though unusually disin- clined to write, turn with comfort to no other occupation. I might, indeed, yet longer put off the undertaking; but I am 29 too intimately acquainted, by reiterated ex- perience, with the never-failing effects of procrastination, to allow myself so dan- gerous an indulgence. Madame de St. Hermine certainly de- serves a more willing biographer ; and per- haps, as I advance in her story, the indo- lent sensations which withheld me from be- ginning it with alacrity, will wear away, and my love and admiration for her incite me to proceed with spirit and pleasure. You already are informed that she has now resided with Geraldine Fauconberg, and had the superintendence of her educa- tion, nearly ten years. She was originally of one of the highest families in France, and was brought up in affluence and splen- dour, yet with an attention to the cultiva- tion of her mind, even superior to that be- stowed on the improvement of her talents. She was (an unusual circumstance at that time in France) educated at home, under the vigilant inspection of an elegant and sensible mother, and the care of a highly- principled and accomplished English go- 30 vcrness. Her marriage, at an early period of her life, to Monsieur de St. Hermine, completed what the well-directed efforts of her first guides had begun. He was a man who, by a frequent residence in foreign courts, as minister, had acquired a thorough knowledge of the world, to which the stu- dious disposition of his mind had induced him to add a very unusual degree of learn- ing, both ancient and modern. His cha- racter was firm, honourable, and liberal j and his attachment to his wife such as to constitute the felicity of both their lives. She had not the same information he pos- sessed : but in matters of taste they rarely differed ; in principles^ never. The union of this admirable pair, the most exemplary that was, perhaps, ever w it- nessed at the dissipated court of a dissipated kingdom, was further blessed by the birth of tv»'0 sons; neither of whom they had the consolation of seeing grown up, before the Revolution broke out. Whilst both were yet mere boys, they emigrated, with their father, into Germany, where he had once 31 iTsided as ambassador. Their mother deemed it of advantage to their interest, at least for a time, to remain at Paris. Her' principal object for so doing, that of saving some- thing from the v^reck of their property, she effected with a good fortune exceeding her hopes; and even found means to convey the greatest part of what she had thus, at the hazard of her life, preserved, to the dear fugitives, it was now her sole ambition to follow. But the difficulties attending an emigration into Germany, were, by this time, become so formidable, that she was compelled to steer her course towards Eng- land; and though reduced, by the sums she had remitted to Vienna, to a very scanty pittance for herself, she was brought, at last, to ' consider as a very extraordinary blessing, the being enabled to reach this country in safety. London was no new scene to her. In her more prosperous days, she had already, accompanied by her husband, made the journey as a mere matter of curiosity and amusement, and had been caressed and 32 ftted by many of the first families in the country. To a few of these, with whom she had then been on the most intimate footing, she now made herself known. Every mark of respect, and every expres- sion of interest and kindness, was lavished upon her. But these, though consolatory and highly gratifying, were not all that her circumstances required, since what she had brought over was scarcely sufficient, with the strictest economy, to promise her an adequate maintenance for a few months. With the courage, good sense, and resigna- tion that so peculiarly distinguish her, she formed the resolution of giving up, for the moment, her independence, and of under- taking, in some well-born and well-bred family, the post she still so honourably holds i^ that of Mr. Archer. To this gentleman she was introduced and most zealously re- commended, soon after it was known he had determined to give his orphan ward a private education. The appearance of the elegant candidate filled him with surprise and admiration, and her conversation and 33 manners confirmed the favourable impres- sion that appearance was so well calculated to excite. She was then, though turned of thirty, in the full meridian of her beauty, which, to judge by its present remains, must, at that period, have been exquisite. She was animated, high-bred, and dignified; *' and in short, mv dear Julia," added Mr. Archer, when giving me these details, " she was exactly the sort of woman whom, had I been twenty years younger, I would not have invited into my house!" Relying, however, upon the security these twenty years were to afford him, he speedily con- cluded his arrangements with her, brought her down to Highgrove Park, and here, except during the annual excursion they make to town, she has resided, revered and beloved, ever since. What remains to be told concerning her husband is short, but melancholy. All his efforts to rejoin Madame de St. Hermine proved fruitless. He religiously forbore en- gaging with foreigners in the war that was^ waged against his country; but obtained C5 34 some trifling civil employment at Vienna, and there remained till, after a lingering illness, a period was put to his life and his misibriunes. The eldest son, when left to liis own guidance, was induced to enter the Austrian service, and perished in his first engagement. His brother, with incredible danger and trouble, at length succeeded in reaching this country. My brother knows liim well. lie is now in London; gay and sanguine, and supporting his decadence with fortitude and spirit. Thus, my dear Augusta, have I fulfdled my promise, and given you a summary ac- count of the charming foreigner you have MO often heard me mention, though you have so rarely had any opportunity of con- versing: with her. Till within these few days, my mother herself knew not the par- ticulars of her historv, notwithstanding the continual intercourse v/e have long been accustomed to have wath her. But what seems more extraordinarv, thouprh in a great measure the effect of accident, is, that Ferdinand never till now was five minutes 35 in company with Geraldine since she was ten years old. It is true, she neither paid nor received visits, and did not dine at her uncle's table in London when he had any guests. But Lesmore so frequently called upon Mr. Archer in the morning, he was in such favour with Madame de St. Her- mine, and so intimate at the house, that it is really marvellous he should never have had a glimpse of his destined bride. I sometimes fear, from his present behaviour, that he suspects her being held back so stu- diously was a concerted family measure, the object of which was, to keep alive his curiosity and suspense concerning her, till she was of an age to be presented to him, so resplendent in beauty, and so exalted in accomplishments, that it would be utterly impossible any penetrable human heart could resist the influence of her attractions. Adieu, however, for the present, my dear sister : I am not only tired of writing, but I have put myself out of humour by recur- ring to Lesmore's vexatious conduct. How 36 you would wonder at, and condemn him, could you transport yourself hither for a few hours ! Yours, ever affectionately, Julia Lesmore. 37 LETTER V. FERDINAND LESMORE, ESQ. TO THE REV. ARCHIBALE NEWENDEN. My dear Sir, Highgrove Park. Your letter reached me this morning, and I am already seated at my writing tabk to relieve the anxiety it so kindly expresses The sentence you allude to in my last is not of such terrific import as you conceive Though I hinted at the situation of twj hearty I am not in love, I give you my ho- nour. I feel a preference for, a sort of at- traction, when in her society, towards £ very lovely woman : but I am in full pos- session of my reason; I can even descry; her faults ; I spend whole days without re- collecting she is in existence ; and when 1 quitted her, I might, with as great truth as at any period of my life, have boasted in 38 the words of Petrarca before he beheld his beauteous Laura, Lagrima ancor non mi bagnava il petto, Negroni pea il sonno : e quel che'n me non era, Mi pareva mi miracolo in altrui"*. This ideal enemy of my repose is Mrs. Neville, widow of the Hon. George Ne- ville, who was killed two years ago by a fall from his horse in hunting. He was a noted sportsman— a booby— and, when in- ■ toxicated (which was not seldom the case), a brute. She was married very young, and is now only in the twenty-fourth year of her age. I became acquainted with her last autumn, at Brighton, and afterwards spent a fortnight in the same house with her at her brother-in-law's. Lord M 's. Her figure is strikingly elegant ; her man- ners are easy, fashionable, and gay; and her countenance the most variable and ani- * No tear then bathed my bosom, nor sorrow broke my rest— and ^vhat in myself I felt not, appeared to me miraculous in others. 39 mated I have ever beheld. She has two sparkhng black eyes, with which it is her boast that, when she pleases, she " can do any thing." Her faculties are quick, but her judgement is defective; she has a re- tentive memory, and a considerable degree of cultivation, but no steadiness in her pur- suits, or depth in her attainments. Her mind is generous even to a fault; she re- veres intellectual abilities, and professes a contempt for upstarts, or mere moiiied peo- ple, but too apparent, - whenever an occa- sion presents itself for displaying it. The careless disdain which she avows of the opinion and censures of the world, is so daring; her conduct testifies so determined a disposition to please herself, indifferent to the quen dlra-f-on F that her principles are questioned by the scrupulous, and her acquaintance is avoided by the timid. Yet I firmly believe her to be of irreproachable purity; her heart appears compassionate and benevolent; her temper, though w^arm, is placable and easy, and the eccentricities of her character, though dangerous, 4iave 40 hitherto been harmless, and such only as to heighten the charms of her conversation. Now, my dear sir, after giving you such a description of this lady, I leave you fairly to estimate the good and the bad, and then to decide whether I am in imminent peril from her attractions. _Love and habit, were I to be often thrown in her way, might per- haps soften down the harshness of my cen- sure, and throw a veil over her imperfec- tions; but at present, unblinded by pas- sion, they stare me fully in the face, and frighten me from the most distant idea of indulging for her a serious attachment. I own that she interests, amuses, and has, now and then, absolutely enchanted me ; but whether that open defiance of the herd, to use one of her own expressions, would always accommodate the unfortunate nicety of my feelings, you, who know me, per- haps, better than I know myself, can best determine. I consider you as entitled to my utmost sincerity, and have made no scruple of speaking upon this subject with entire unreserve. What I have written will, 41 I doubt not, amply reassure you. Let me add, that at this moment I am ignorant in what part of England Mrs. Neville is re- siding. We go on here very monotonously. Da- venant, my sister Caroline's husband, is with us, but adds little to our party. I re- member how angry you once w^ere at my calling him, in Dryden's vrords, " the fool of nature.*' I have long since revoked that offensive appellation in its full force; but still obstinately insist, that he is shallow and weak. Yet there is some good about him J for though not wise, he is never cap- tious ; though nineteen out of twenty of his notions are wrong, he is not stubborn : and he sometimes blunders upon an original and entertaining remark. He is, moreover, a most affectionate father, and a perfectly accommodating husband! He and Caro- line leave us next week, and I find some amusement during their stay, in sketching the likeness of their eldest boy, Charles. This little creature, were he mine, would compensate to me, I think, for almost every 42 other privation. 1 often wonder at the strength of my own attachment to him -, yet, when I consider the frank affection he always manifests for me — the manly, fear- less, and intelligent nature he displays, I cease to accuse myself of folly, and only wish I was the father of such a child. Farewel, my kind Monitor 1 believe me, with equal respect and gratitude. Yours ever, Ferdinand Lesmore. 43 LETTER Vr. MISS LESMORE TO MRS. LUMLEY. High grove Park, Aug. 27. Gerald INE has, at length, my dear Augusta, recovered from the species of panic that seized her on my brother*s first arrival, and is, as I tell her, " Herself again!'* We had a very curious conver- sation two days ago, which, as well as I can remember, I will repeat to you. Caroline, she, and I, had been taking a long walk before dinner, escorted by Mr. Davenant. During this ramble, which w^as confined to retired fields and lanes, she had been in more playful spirits than I almost ever saw her; had laughed, sung, and talked with the utmost animation, and practised against our good humoured bro- ther-in-law, a thousand tricks. I was not backward in seconding her; and though 44 our matronly companion took no active part in our espicglen'es, she enjoyed them heartily, and was even the first, slily to in- stigate us to fresh mischief. As we drew near the house, on our return home. Mad. de St. Hermine, leaning upon my brother's arm, appeared in sight, seemingly in grave conversation. An almost instantaneous re- volution operated itself in Geraldine on be- holding them. She drew her hat forwarder, composed her pretty mouth, placed herself between Caroline and me, and scarcely spoke another word whilst we were out. Madame de St. Hermine stopped when she came up to us ; hoped we had had a plea- sant walk, and inquired where we had been. Davenant, in a moment, poured forth a torrent of ludicrous complaints against us, and declared he had been so baited and ill-used the v. hole morning, especially by Miss Fauconberg, that he would never trust himself out ^\ illi us again. These accusa- tions accorded so very oddly with the se- date look Geraldine had now assumed, that I saw Ferdinand was struck by the incon- 45 gruity; and a sort of supercilious expres- sion played about his mouth, for which I could willing have beaten him, and which, I am certain, escaped not the observation of Geraldine. Madame de St. Hermine affected great compassion for the op- pressed plaintiff, and then walked on with her impertinent attendant. We proceeded to the house, and parting with Caroline and her husband at the foot of the stairs, Geraldine and I went together into the dressing-room. There, silently taking off her walking things, and then sitting down near the win- dow, with a look that showed her inter- nally much vexed, she fixed her eyes upon some distant object in the park, and ap- peared to forget that any one was near her. I was determined not to speak first ; I wished so much to know exactly what was passing in her mind, that I hoped, if no turn was given to her thoughts by chance interrogations, the first word she uttered would betray the secret subject of her medi- tations. 46 At last, endeavouring to speak with cheerfulness, " My dear Julia,'* said she, " I have behaved very like a fool this morning!" 1 laughed, and answered, '' You know best your own title to such a charge ; but the epithet is a little strong, and some of its odium, I fear, reflects upon me, who have behaved quite as ill.*' '' O you entirely mistake me. I am not quarrelling with myself for having teased your brother-in-law ; he forgives it, I am very certain, and my conscience perfectly acquits me of all intention seriously to an- noy him. But what I blame and hate my- sdf for, is the little prim, demure look, I put on, when Mr. Lesmore came in sight. I know not what possesses me, but I feel afraid of him ; I am always acting a part in his presence, and, conscious of appearing to disadvantage, I disgrace myself by a sort of school-girl awkwardness, an imbecile shamefacedness, that would only be par- donable in a damsel suddenly transplanted from the dairy to the drawing-room.** 47 '' I perfectly understand all you mean, my dear Geraldine," said I; " and can easily account for the unpleasant feelings you mention. Ferdinand appears to you a stately censor ; and I will not answer for it that he is not really become so ^ it used to be otherwise : but let that pass. Pray, of what consequence is it to you whether he regards you with approbation or not ? Why do you take the trouble of prescribing to yourself any system of conduct on his ac- count ? I cannot bear to see you repress- ing your spirits, banishing every smile, and sitting like a snubbed baby in his companv. Forget, or try to become careless, whether he is in the room, or a hundred miles off; and exert your utmost endeavours to be exactly w^hat you were before he came to the house.'* " Thank you, dear Julia, for this en- couraging advice; I will compel myself scrupulously to follow it. But let me ex- plain ta you, as well as I am able, the ori- gin of my strange fears. I have been spoiled by the indulgent partiality of my 48 uncle and Madame de St. Hermine ; they scarcely ever looked unkindly at me in their lives. Those I have been most accustomed to associate with, such, for instance, as your mother, your sister, and yourself, have all regarded and treated me with the same lenity. Now, your brother, who ought, perhaps, to be the most courteous among them — *' " He ought to have his ungracious vi- sage slapped ! " interrupted I, angrily. " Not on my account,*' resumed she, with a smile ; " if slapping would make his general manners more conciliating, I should not be very sorry to hear he had undergone the operation, though I should certainly be extremely unwilling he should suffer it in my cause : but let me conclude what I had to say. Your brother is the first person who ever cast upon me a forbidding glance. Unlike the rest of his kind family, he seems completely to disdain me ^ and, to say the truth, had he been of any other race, I should have endeavoured, from the moment I perceived it, equally to disdain him 3 but 49 the relation of so many dear friends, I could not immediately consider with such total indifference ; and I have been accustomed to hear him so highly spoken of, that I was ambitious, let me own it, to obtain his good opinion. But all that is now over; we have both received such unfavourable im- pressions, that I know not whether Time even, all powerful as he is, will ever be able to efface them. However that may be, rest assured, my dear Julia, that from this in- stant it shall be my incessant study to rise superior to the weak embarrassment he caused me! '* She pronounced this last sentence with an air of calm but wounded dignity, that infinitely struck me. I highly applauded the determination she had adopted, and we mutually agreed to banish Ferdinand en- tirely from our conversation, and as much as possible from our thoughts. During dinner, at which were present, in addition to our own party, a neighbouring family of the name of Everley, remarkably VOL. I. D ^ 50 sensible, pleasing people, Geraldine ap- peared restored to all her accustomed ease and presence of mind. Mr. Everley, who occupied the seat next to her at the head of the table, which Ferdinand in general so ungraciously fills, held her in almost con- stant conversation. She was by no means negligent, however, of the rest of the com- pany, but did the honours of her place with grace and politeness ; and never, I thought, appeared to greater advantage. I know not whether Lesmore observed the striking change in her demeanour. He sat next to Mrs. Everley, and was engaged in discourse with her almost all dinner-time : but that Madame de St Hermine, !Mr. Archer, and Caroline perceived it, was very evident, as was likewise the pride and pleasure which the revolution gave them. Before the gentlemen left the dining-par- lour to rejoin us at tea, my mother, whom we had been expecting the whole day, drove up to the door. The sound of the carriage drew every body out into the hall. n i where she had some reason to be surprised at finding so large a party assembled to re- ceive her. But in the country, the rattle of wheels, you know, is an event. Compli- ments, inquiries, and an introduction to the two visitors, Mr. and Mrs. Everley, having passed, tea and coffee were ordered, and we dispersed ourselves over the drawing-room in detached parties. I belonged to one, consisting of Geraldine, Mr. Everley, and Caroline ; but yet I was placed in such a direction, that when I chose to listen, I could distinctly hear what was talked of in the next group, composed of my mother, Madame de St. Hennine, and Ferdinand. One of the first speeches that caught my attention was the following, made by my mother: " I have seen, at Lady Rachel Sinclair's, an acquaintance of yours, Ferdinand, who did you the honour to make many polite inquiries after you." ** A lady, I presume ^ pray, who was she ? " no " Mrs. Neville. She is niece to Ladv Kachel, and now on a visit to her." " Mrs. Neville I " repeated my brother, in a tone of surprise ; *' and how long has she been in this part of the world ? " " I cannot exactly tell you : but when she leaves her aunt, which I believe will be soon, she is coming very near Mr. Archer's, to a house called Westhill, which she has lately purchased, and is now fitting up." You will wonder, my dear Augusta, why I should repeat to you this apparently in- significant dialogue : but the fact is, I know something of Mrs. Neville myself, and felt truly provoked when I heard, she was com- ing into this neighbourhood. Last year, whilst I was at Brighton, with the Dave- nants and Ferdinand, we used to see her every day. She was the belle of the place; a very fashionable, gay, young widow : and Lesmore obtaining an introduction to her, soon became one of her most assiduous courtiers. They danced together, w^alked together, were of the same parties upon the 53 water, and, in short, flirted most abomi- nably! I dread the idea of their meeting again, and heartily hope she will not take possession of lier new house till my brother IS gone. Cards having been proposed, and de- clined by every body, except my mother, Mr. Archer, Davenant, and Madame de St. Hermine, some of the rest of the party applied to Geraldine for a little music. She still found some plausible pretence to de- cline singing, but consented to play with- out hesitation, and acquitted herself v/ith even more than her usual excellence. This was the first time she had ever been in- duced to sit down to the instrument when Ferdinand was in the room : but in pur- suance of her good resolutions of the morn- ing, I saw she was determined no longer to let him have any influence over her con- duct. His surprise on hearing her per- form in so superior a manner, was very per- ceptible, and, to me, very gratifying. She remained unconscious of it, however ; for during the wdiole evening her eyes, I f < 04 belie v€, never rested upon him a mo- ment. When they would allow her to rise from the piano-forte, Mr. Everley asked her whether she had made any addition, w^hen last in town, to her collection of coins and medals ? " Very few," answered she ; *' but my uncle bought me an exceeding good set of su^.phurs." Mr. Everley begged to see them; and she left the room to fetch the boxes in which they were contained. As they were more, however, than she could conveniently carry, I hastened after her to assist in bringing them down. " You played delightfully, my dear Ge- raldine," said I, when I joined her, " and your looks and manners are just what they used to be." ^' Thank you, Julia, for supporting me against this formidable brother of yours. I rejoice to fmd in myself courage to feel and appear at ease in his society." " He has been so disagreeable since he 55 came here/' resumed I, '' that I really do not love him at this moment half so well as I used to do." " Q Julia ! can iany thing make one cease to love a brother?" I kissed her for this affectionate senti- ment, and soon after we returned with our burthens into the drawing-room. You will blame me, Augusta, for censur- ing Lesmore so unsparingly to our friend. I believe, however, though I did it in since- rity of indignation, it would be no bad plan to do it from policy. Magnifying the faults of any one who has offended a generous na- ture, only calls forth extenuations, and sets the fancy at work to find out ingenious apologies for the delinquent. You perceive that Geraldine will not let me profess any diminution of regard for my brother : but would, w^ere I to be too severe, rise up in his defence. The sulphurs, a little cabinet of coins, and some prints in port-folios, filled up our time during the remainder of the evening. Mr. and Mrs. Everley appear to have a taste 56 for all these sort of things, and departed apparently much pleased with their visit. I shall have more to say to you of this agreeable couple in a future letter ; at pre- sent, I will confine myself to the relation of a little incident, which, as it was com- municated to us yesterday morning by Ge- raldine, must, I think, have made a favour- able impression upon our philosophical brother — he who so much despises exag- gerated and puerile female terrors. Whilst we vrere all, except Ferdinand, who was taking an early ride, assembled round the breakfast table, Geraldine asked us whether we chose to hear a frightful story ? '' One," she added, ** that relates to something very like a nocturnal vision which appeared to me last night." "To you!" we all exclaimed. " Oh, pray tell us the whole history." " Why, then," resumed she, solemnly, " it was about two o*clock this morning when I was suddenly awakened by hearing a slight noise in my room. The night be- ing hot, I had drawn up both the window 57 curtains, and left part of the window shut- ters open, so that the moon, who is always an active agent upon these sort of occasions, poured a long line of radiance into the apartment. Just in this line stood a light, slim figure, reflecting from its white habi- liments the bright beams .that played upon it! I started from my pillow"- Here she was interrupted by the entrance (an unwelcome one to us all at that mo- ment) of Ferdinand, apologizing for not hav- ing returned sooner, and bringing us back to all the common forms of common life. As soon as he was seated, helped to tea, and cream, and sugar, and rolls, we gave him a terrific account of the slim ghost, and besought Geraldine to conclude its adven- tures. A little of her but-lately-banished timidity assailed her, and she wished, for that time, to wave the subject; but every body was so anxious to hear the sequel of the tale, that making a noble effort to con- quer her reluctance, yet blushing, and at first looking down, she thus went on : D 5 58 " With breathless alarm, I gazed at the inexplicable apparition, but had not cou- rage to speak. It presently began to move, and, muttering to itself in indistinct ac- cents, went to my dressing-table, and threw away the faded flowers I had worn ; then flitted to the chest of drawers, and drew one or tw^o of them open : but all this time ap- peared to have no design to molest me, or even to approach the same end of the room. At last, as it again stood still in the lightest part of the chamber, I thought I knew its face; and had a mountain been re- moved from my chest, the relief could not have been greater to my oppressed respira- tion!" " Who was it }'* we eagerly demanded. " Jane, my new maid, who was walking in her sleep, and dreaming, I suppose, poor girl, of her mistress's caps and gowns, which she fancied herself, perhaps, arrang- ing in the nicest order.'* " What did 3^ou do when you made this discovery?" 59 *' Why, bless her from the bottom of my heart, for being neither a spectre nor a thief I — and, moreover, rise up, throw on a dressing-gown, take her gently hj the hand, and conduct her to her own room.'^ " Did she wake then?" '^ No 'y I led her to the bed-side, and con- trived to make her sit down ; but how to induce her to get into the bed I knew not, without startling her out of her sleep, and causing her, when she saw me, and became conscious of the strange vagaries she had played, as much consternation as I had suffered myself. I therefore wrapt her up as well as I could, left the room, and re- paired to that of one of the other maids who slept near her, and whom I recommended to go quietly to her. And thus ends my marvellous adventure.** *' It is an adventure, my darling girl," said Mr. Archer, *^ which, in all its circum- stances, reflects upon you great credit. But there," added he, looking at Madame de St. Hermine, " there we must make our 60 acknowledgements. To the incomparable counsels and example of that admirable friend, you owe the calm and considerate presence of mind which enabled you, on this occasion, to act so properly." " Dear uncle," said Geraldine, rising and looking abashed, " how much too seriously do you exalt the merit of this little trans- action !" All Vv ho were present, however, even Fer- dinand, joined with her uncle in applaud- ing her; but, ashamed of having drawn upon herself such encomiums, she took me by the hand, and we left the room to- gether. I protested to her, when we were alone, that I could not have acted so coolly in such circumstances ; adding, *' The moment the phantom appeared, I should have begun a shriek, which would have lasted till somebody came to my as- sistance ; and, I do assure you, now I know there is one of the Somnmnhules In the house, I shall take especial care to lock myself up every night." 61 " You need not, my dear Julia/* said she, laughing, " for I intend to order Jane's door to be fastened as soon as she goes to bed; and I even purpose to have bars put to her windows : for I have heard that these poor creatures sometimes meet with fright- ful accidents, by trying, if they find them- selves locked up, to get out through the windows!" We then went to the dressing-room, where we usually sit every m.orning, and vrhere Geraldine, who is painting a miniature of little Charles, sent for him to give her a seance. It is my province, by reading, or telling him amusing stories,^ to keep him quiet during the half hour he is detained ^ and w hen his imprisonment is over, we load him with so many little rewards for having been good, that he is by no means unwilling to come to us. The picture is not yet much advanced, but promises to be extremely like. Caroline, for whom it is intended, has offered to stay some days longer than she originally intended, to give the fair paintress time to finish it. The proposal has been gratefully accepted. Adien^ my dearest Augusta. Yours ever afTectionately, Julia Lesmore. 63 LETTER VIL MISS LESSMORE TO THE SAIVIE. Highgrove Park, Aug. 29. Your kind letter, my dear Augusta, has just been delivered to me. Indeed you are much too grateful for those I have writ- ten since Ferdinand*s arrival. Independent of the -conviction I feel of the interest you must take in all that is now passing at High- more Park, I derive great amusement and pleasure from communicating to you my thoughts and observations upon the con- duct, at this critical juncture, of two per- sons we all so affectionately love. Your approbation of my voluntary labours will encourage me not to relax in industry. Yesterday morning, on om* return from one of our accustomed rambles, Caroline, Geraldine, and I went into the library, where Madame de St. Hermine was sitting 64 with my mother and the three gentlemen. Presently, Httle Charles ran past the win- dow, and Ferdinand, starting from his chair, threw up the sash, and called the child to him. " Charles,'* said he, " you are a young truant ! I have wanted you the whole morn- mo- " " Have you, uncle,** said the boy, rather plaintively, " and must I come to you now?'* " Not if you are very unwilling; but you know I should not keep you long." " O, I don't mind how long you keep me, uncle, if I may but run about, and talk, and look as I like ! But I am so tired of those nasty pictures! And I have been very good about them once this morning already." '' Why, my dear fellow, this is the first time I have seen you to-day ! '* '^ O, but I have been pictiinng for all that! Hav'n't I, Miss Fauconbcrg?" " Yes, my dear Charles, and you were a very patient little boy : but I am sorry to 65 liave tired you so much that you will not now go to your uucle." " Ferdinand," said I, '' if you will show us the portrait you have been so snugly taking of this child, I will, in return, lend you my assistance during the sittings, and exert myself to amuse him, as I have hitherto done, whilst he has been with Geraldine." " A very generous proposal, and I ac- cept its conditions : but could you not pre- vail upon Miss Fauconberg to let us have a sight of the picture she has begun ?" " By all means," cried Mr. Archer, " let us look at the two performances together. " Geraldine, on account of hers being in so unfiuished a state, made some remon- strances, but they were overruled by her uncle's earnestness, and, with her accus- tomed good-humour, she ran up stairs to fetch it. Ferdinand likewise went in search of his, and when they both returned, it was entertaining to observe the eagerness witji which each sought to examine the other's performance. In their diiTerent styles, we found it impossible to decide which v/as the 66 best done, the most beautiful, or the strong- est Hkeiiess. Lesmore's is only a clrawiiig in water-colours, for he has no materials here for painting in oils ; but it is exqui- sitely graceful, more highly fmislied than his dravvinors usually are, and desii^ned with an ease and freedom truly masterly. The miniature of Geraldine, like herself, is ini- mitably delicate ; the colouring is glov/ing,. and yet natural : and the outline, i believe, might bear the strictest examination. Fer- dinand appeared delighted with it, and Ge- raldine was no less struck with his drawing. I was enchanted that accident had thus made each acquainted with a talent in the other, of which they are mutually so well qualified to judge. We dined an hour earlier than usual, mv mother and Madame de St. Hermine wish- ing to take an evening drive to N , our nearest town, on some shopping business. Caroline chose to accompany them, but Geraldine and I declined being of the party; and as soon as they were gone, ordering a table and garden-chairs to be placed for us 67 ill tlie shade, on the banks of the river, we went and took possession of our rural seats, with our books and work. The weather was delicious ; our minds were calm and happy ; every thing around us looked se- renely beautiful ; and never in my life, I think, did I more completely and gratefully enjoy the consciousness of existence. Fearless of dew or of cold, we watched, in almost total silence, the gradual advance of the shades of evening, the rise of the moon, and the general diffusion of that sort of mistiness which spreads itself through the air at the close of a glowing summer-day. At length Geraldine, who had for some time been employed in making memoran- dums in her tablets, broke silence, and, in a voice soft and soothing as the scene we were contemplating, recited the following SONNET : Thy sober light, O Evening! let me hail. Catch thy soft sadness, and thy calm repose ; At thy approach let mourners cease to wail. And oa thy bosom hush their thr9bbing woes. G8 Thy balmy power has oft been felt by those Who, thro' the day, were troubled or oppressM From <^rief and toil the haggard bomhnan owes To thee his dear-bought, temporary re;^t. The happy bless the advances of the morn. Expecting pleasures they but seldom find ; But thou, mild Evening ! art to the forlorn A precious harbinger of peace of mind : Who seeks not joys to thee will be a friend. And with thy stillness his own sorrows blciid. Scarcely had she conckided liie last line of this Httle pensive effusion, when we heard, at no great distance, the voices of the gentlemen, and presently were joined by them. They drew a bench near us and sat down. Air. Archer saying, as he took his place, '^ This is an hour and a scene to awaken poetical ideas ; have the^y produced no such eficct upon either of you, my fair friends?" Geraldine pressed my hand to engage me not to betray her, and Mr. Archer, looking up, presently added. Who amongst our English poets has ie C9 succeeded best in describing the beauties of a clear, mild, and tranquil evening like the present?" "It has been a favourite subject," an- swered Lesmore, " with so many writers, that it were hard to decide by which it has been most successfully treated. None, how- ever, who have expressly chosen, not merely incidentally introduced it, has been more universally admired than the enthusiastic and animated Collins." ** His Ode to Evening," said Mr. Archer, " I know, is much celebrated and approved) but, I confers, it is so long since I read it, that I scarcely retain any recollection of its peculiar beauties. When we return to the house we will look at it." " Q no," cried I, " the house would spoil it. This is the moment, and this the spot, to hear it to advantage ; and Geraldine can repeat it," " Well, then," said Mr, Archer, " let us have it/' Geraldine, thus called upon, summoned 70 all her courage, and, after a short pause, begun : " If ought of oaten stop, or pastoral song," &c. Air. Archer was extremely pleased, not only with the poem, but with her ready compliance; he particularly approved the twelve concluding lines ; praised her intelli- gent and unaffected mode of delivery, and exhorted her never to neglect the cultiva- tion of so correct and enviable a memory. After this, the conversation turned upon the subject of modern poetry in general ; and some of our party could not forbear animadverting, rather severely, upon the frippery taste, the rage for epithets, the unmeaning and insipid sentimentality that has abounded in many hot-pressed recent productions, embellished with elegant en- gravings. " We laughed in former days," said Mr. Archer, " at the plausible galimatias of the well-known love song. Fluttering spread thy purple pinions. Gentle Cupid!" &c. tf it f^. 1 but it seems to me as if the same sort of nonsense was now written in sober sadness, and gravely mistaken for refinement and delicacy/' " I scarcely know any poet of modern date,'* said Lesmore, " whose productions have afforded me more genuine pleasure than Burns. Many of his compositions are extremely melancholv, and some are even tinctured with bitterness and asperity ; but they are so original, the feeling they ex- press is so wholly divested of affectation, such indications of a warm and generous heart, such manly strength of thought, and, from time to time, such vivid flashes of genius break forth, that he not only excites, but rivets our attention, and insensibly awakens for himself our most partial interest and regard/' " You speak enthusiastically, my dear Lesmore." '' I speak with the admiration I always experience when I take up a volume of his poems." " I must make myself better acquainted 70 with this favourite bard of voiirs. Gerald- iue, have you got his works in your httle library ?" " Yes, mv dear uncle.'* " And are you as zealous an advocate for him as Lesmore ?" She professed exactly tlie same senti- ments, and specified some of the poems w^hich she most admired. This led to a re- quest from Ferdinand, that, if she could re- member, she would recite one of them. After a moment's consideration, she se- lected and repeated the stanzas entitled, from their plaintive burthen, " Man was made to mourn." 1 wish, my dear Augusta, you could have shared in the pleasing though melancholy sensations Avith which we heard her. So grateful to the ear was the well-regulated tone of her voice ; so impressive the lines themselves, and so affecting, yet so natural, the expression with which she uttered them, that as I listened to her, as I surveyed her light and graceful form, and saw her fine eyes cast upwards, and glittering in the 73 , moon -beams " with undropt tears," I thought it impossible to behold a more in- teresting representative of beauty, inno- cence, and sensibility. I know not how Ferdinand looked, for his face was overshadowed by the boughs . of a luxuriant shrub growing near him ; but I have reason to believe he was pe- netrated and softened, for when she ceased, he expressively said — " To hear, in such a scene, poetry I so much love, repeated in such accents, is greater luxury than I ever experienced!" Geraldine hastily turned her head, as if to. convince herself that words so flatterins: indeed proceeded from the lips of my bro- ther! I myself almost doubted whether I had heard aright, till Davenant, with a laugh, cried out, " AVhy, Lesmore, we shall have you turn- ing soneteer, for the mere pleasure of hear- ing Miss Fauconberg rehearse your effu- sions !'* '' Are you sure,*' said I, that Miss Fau- VOL, I. E conberg would think them worth commit- ting to memory ?" " I don't know how that might be with regard to her ; but I have heard other la- dies repeat Lesmore's verses.'* " Indeed! and who were those ladies?" inquired I, little dreaming of the indiscre- tion I was leading poor Davenant to com- mit. '^ Why, all last season, at Brighton, Mrs. Neville was singing airs to which he had composed words ; and even recited in com- pany, short poems of his, which he had ad- dressed to her." " Pooh, pooh !" cried I, " they were none of his own composition, I dare say." And then rising, to put an end to the conversa- tion, I asked Geraldine to go back with me to the house. A few moments after we had entered the drowing-room, the three ladies returned from N , and nothing more was said of Mrs. Neville that night. But this morning, an old maiden lady. 75 Mrs. Sibylla Milbanke, who lives about four miles from hence, and pays a formal half-yearly visit at Highgrove Park, about Michaelmas and Lady-day, called, and obliged Geraldine and myself, who were very busy in the dressing-room, to go down and receive her. We soon found that she had brousrht with her a budget of news, which she was eager to impart ; for scarcely had we been five minutes in the room, before she thus, in a little cracked nasal voice, begun — *' Well, Miss Fauconberg, I hear you are soon to have a mighty gay neighbour at Westhill. I give you joy j for her house, I am told, will be the resort of every thing that is fashionable in the county — I am speaking of the brilliant widow Neville : you know her, I think. Miss Lesmore ?" " I never was introduced to her, ma^ dam." " Well, but, at least, your brother knows her !*' added she, with a facetious nod, " I had a friend last year at Brighton, who wrote me word" 76 *' My brother, madam," interrupted (Ferdinand was not present during this not- able conversation), " has been acquainted with Lord M , Mrs. Neville's relation and particular friend, several years ; and you probably heard she was in the house with his lordship, the whole time she staid at Brighton." " Very true, very true, my dear. But as I was telling you, this dashing widow is to take possession of her new house next week ; and I have been assured that no- thing can exceed tlie elegance with which she is fitting it up. She had a large for- tune when she married, most of which was settled upon herself ; and now, having no little ones, I suppose she fuids that, with- out inconvenience, she can gratify her taste for magnificence. I am mighty curious to see the house, I must own : for I am in- formed she has had every thing down new from London, upon the most fashionable Parisian models. In all the best apart- ments, the curtains and hangings are silk, r'ehly fringed."' — 77 In short, for I tire of writing her minute gossip, from curtains she proceeded to chairs, tables, beds, sofas, carpets, and spared us no iota of detail respecting any one article of ornament or furniture through- out the bouse j the different colours of the silk hangings, the size, height, and breadth of the mirrors j the form of the chimney clocks, and the pattern of the bell ropes 1 We listened vv^ith. due complacency j and, at the expiration of three quarters of an hour, which she might boast to have spent by no means idly, she rung for her little rhubarb-coloured chariot, and ambled away. When Geraldine and I were once more established in the dressing-room, she said, " I shall like yery much to be acquainted with this Mrs. Neyille when she comes to Westhill. I am curious to see the sort of woman Mr. Lesmore admires." '' My dear Geraldine," said I, '^ you are not aware how common a thing it is at all sea-bathing, or public places, to set up some fashionable woman as a temporary idol, a rallying point, round which all the IS idle young men of /on flutter and flirt for the season, and then never think of again." She confessed her ignorance of such sub- jects, and began talking of somethnig else. We are going to be very gay. Two in- vitations have arrived to-day, both of which are accepted : one is to a dinner at Mr. and Mrs. Everley's ; the other to a splendid ball, given by a baronet in this neighbour- ]»oo(l, Sir James Charlebury, in honour of our late public successes. The ladies are all to be dressed in uniform, with emblem- atical ornaments allusive to the occasion. My mother, Gerald ine, and I, have alreac*:^ written up tO' town for our parapherm.. Madame de St. Hermine and Carol ^ ^ de- thoudi included in the invitation, have' ^ ffone clined it. The latter, indeed, will be from hence before the ball takes place. Geraldine calculates that her miniature of the little boy will be in such a state of for- wardness by Monday as not to require any more sittings. Ferdinand finished his draw- ing of him this morning. On Tuesday, therefore, I fear we shall lose my sisteF, 79 who is impatient to rejoin the rest of her little family. . We have just heard that the Everleys are amongst the company invited to Sir James's fete ; and I should not he at all surprised if my mother was to consign Geraldine and me to their care for the evening. She seems half to repent having accepted the invita- tion ; talks of the distance^ the bad roads, the late hour at which we shall return ; and gives me a strong suspicion, that before to- morrow she will write to countermand all the things ordered from town.. Good night, my dear Augusta. 80 LETTER VIII. TO THE SAME. August 3ist. If Lesmore does not, at last, do justice to the merits of our inestimable Geraldine, let us all disown any connexion with him ! A few days ago, Mr. Archer, having heard some of our party express a wish to practice shooting with bows and arrows, had a target put up near the house, and every morning since, Davenant, Geraldine, and I, have gone out as soon as breakfast was over, and spent near an hour in trying our skill with these new playthings. Yesterday when we sallied forth as usual on this wise errand, my brother chose to ac- company lis, and take part in the amuse- ment. Madame de St. Hermine and Mr. Archer likewise attended us, and stood as spectators and umpires of our dexterity. Ferdinand proved to be an admirable marks- 81 man, and shamed even our original instruct- or, Davenant ; who once, I know not by what misconduct or mismanagement, shot his arrow so completely out of its intended direction, that it as nearly as possible struck against my brother's shoulder, as he stood on one side, talking with Madame de St. * Ilermine. Geraldine, who either saw it coming, or guessed from Davenant' s awk- v/ard manner of holding it, what was likely to happen, precipitately drew Ferdinand back, and saved him the pain of a pretty severe bruise. At first, unconscious of her motive for making such a seizure, he looked at her with amazement; but on hearing the busmess explained, his surprise gave w^ay to feelings of obligation, and he thanked her in the most animated terms. She laughed at his gratitude; disclaimed the least title to it, and declared she hardly knew who it was she drew away, but, at the moment, acted entirely from a mecha- nical impulse. I do not think Lesmore much liked this interpretation of her con- duct. It appeared to me as if he had rather E5' 84 •who, aware of their intended kindness, made no resistance, but, on the contrary, appeared grateful for their care/ The mea- sure our young friend had suggested, proved the wisest that could have been pursued ; for, in a very short time, the little tender limb swelled so considerably, that it would have been equally difficult and painful to have attempted getting it released. When this first relief was eilected, Lesmore took him in his arms, and carried him to the nursery. Scarcely had tlie infant hero shed a tear from the moment he received the hurt : but encouraged by his uncle's commendations of his manliness and spirit, and fearful of grieving his kind attendant. Miss Fauconberg, he repressed all com- plaints, and displayed the most extraordi- nary self-command. Madame de St. Hermine now besought Geraldine to take upon herself the task of announcing the accident to Caroline, and went in person to my mother to execute the same unthankful office. Shocked, humbled, and dejected, I was ^85 leaving them, to bend my melancholy St ^.^ towards the nursery, when Geraldine, de- taining me a moment, and affectionately embracing me, said : " My dearest Julia, reproach not your- self for an accident so wholly unintentional. No lasting ill effects will result from it, I am persuaded -, and you will grieve us all if you suffer your kind heart to be thus dis- tressed.'* Ferdinand, who had by this time rejoined us, united with her in endeavouring to con- sole me ; and then, whilst Geraldine went up to my sister, returned again to the nur- sery with me. The child was lying upon his bed, and, to judge by the flush in his cheeks, seemed to be in great pain : but forbore all mur- murs, and even looked up at us with a faint smile. His arm, however, was frightfully discoloured, and the swelling seemed in- creased. My apprehensions exceeded all bounds ! I besought the housekeeper, who now entered the room, to prepare some ap- plication for the part j to attempt, at least. 84 -who, aware of their intended kindness, made no resistance, but, on the contrary, appeared grateful for their care/ The mea- sure our young friend had suggested, proved the wisest that could have been pursued ; for, in a very short time, the little tender limb swelled so considerably, that it would have been equally difficult and painful to liave attempted getting it released. When this first relief was ellected, Lesmore took hiin in his arms, and carried him to the nursery. Scarcely liad tlie infant hero shed a tear from the moment he received the hurt : but encouraged by his uncle's commendations of his manliness and spirit, and fearful of grieving his kind attendant. Miss Fauconberg, he repressed all com- plaints, and displayed the most extraordi- nary self-command. Madame de St. Hermine now besought Geraldine to take upon herself the task of announcing the accident to Caroline, and went in person to my mother to execute the same unthankful office. Shocked, humbled, and dejected, I was ~^ 85 leaving them, to bend my melancholy St towards the nursery, when Geraldine, de- taining me a moment, and affectionately embracing me, said : " My dearest Julia, reproach not your- self for an accident so wholly unintentional. No lasting ill effects w411 result from it, I am persuaded ; and you will grieve us all if you suffer your kind heart to be thus dis- tressed.'* Ferdinand, who had by this time rejoined us, united with her in endeavouring to con- sole me ; and then, whilst Geraldine w^ent up to my sister, returned again to the nur- sery with me. The child was lying upon his bed, and, to judge by the flush in his cheeks, seemed to be in great pain : but forbore all mur- murs, and even looked up at us with a faint smile. His arm, however, was frightfully discoloured, and the swelling seemed in- creased. My apprehensions exceeded all bounds ! I besought the housekeeper, who now entered the room, to prepare some ap- plication for the part 3 to attempt, at least. 86 v^^ving bim some relief; and when Caroline appeared, so guilty and so fearful did I feel, that, unable to look at her, I sunk upon my knees by the bed-side, and buried my face in the quilt. Her voice, addressing me in accents of kindness, first gave me courage to raise my head ; I transferred it from the bed to her lap, and there, pressing her two hands between mine, as she sat by her boy's pillow, I wept like a child. Ferdinand was concerned to behold my useless sorrow, and endeavoured to draw me out of the room : but I refused to leave it till the surgeon af- rived, and he desisted from the attempt. Alter an interval that appeared to me, that appeared to us all, of incalculable du- ration, the medical man was at length an- nounced. His report gave unexpected com- fort to the whole family. He ordered what he thought necessary, recommended us to keep the child quiet for the rest of the day, dnd, promising to call again in the evening, went away, leaving me in a state of com- parative blessedness. The thanks and praises that were bestow- 87 C(l upon Geraldine for her rational yet act- ive services, were innumerable. She shrunk from them with blushes, and the most unaf- fected modesty ; and, except from Madame de St. Hermine, whose judicious commen- dations, never lavished upon trifles, always appear to exalt her in her own e3^es, showed a sincere wish to escape hearing any thing more upon the subject. How infinitely to the credit is it of both pupil and instructress, that she who has the oftenest and the most freely expressed blame, should likewise be the person from whose lips praise is the most gratifying ! Geraldine often says, that the slightest tes- tihiony of approbation from Madame de St. Hermine, gives her more heart-felt content than would the most elaborate professions of admiration from any other lips, '' I am so confident,'* she added, " of her scrupu- lous sincerity, that she is to me like a se- cond conscience ; and till I know her opi- nion of any action, I scarcely dare trust to my own. Others, without her frankness. 8S might have only her afTection and benevo- lence." In the evening, poor Charles showed symptoms of amendment. Some one of the family sat watching by him the whole day : even Lesmore was very frequently in liis room, and evinced an anxiety concerning him, that did him great honour in the ten- der mother *s eyes. To-day, I am truly re- joiced ta add, our dear little patient is won- derfully better; and I have now reason to Hatter myself my dreadful clumsiness will produce no future mischief. If the progress of his recovery keeps pace with our hopes, we all dine to-morrow at Mrs. Everley's. I promised you some fur- ther account of that lady. Have patience, Augusta; in due time I will honourably fulfd my engagement : perhaps, to-morrow morning. Meanwhile, adieu. 89 LETTER IX. MISS LESMORE— IN CONTINUATION. September 1st. They are reading a dry, dull book in the library, Geraldine is busy practising in her dressing-room ; the gentlemen are out shooting, and I am come up to com- municate to you th^ little history of Mrs. Everley. It was related to me by Madame de St. Hermine, who, probably, learnt it from the lips of its fair heroine. Though young, handsome, and formed by her manners and conversation to be the ornament and delight of society, Mrs. Ever- ley, during the early period of her marriage, was almost totally debarred from holding intercourse even with the nearest of her neighbours. Her husband, considerably older than herself, and accustomed to in- dulge in recluse and sedentary habits, ad* 90 mitted no visitors into liis house but men of his own age, his long-tried and iniimate friends. To these, Mrs. Everley started no objection j on the contrary, her mind was sufficiently cultivated to enable her at times to derive infinite entertainment from the various subjects of their conversation, how- ever serious they might be : but there were other moments, when, recollecting the gay and animated scenes she had witnessed and borne a part in whilst under her father's roof, her spirits failed her, and she sighed to think she had renounced for ever amusements and society so congenial to her character and time of life, for the gravity, the rigid exclu- sion of all novelty, and the clock-wof k preci- sion of her present home. The daughter of a respectable country gentleman, who was possessed of a sufficient income to bring up a large family with ease and elegance, she had never, till her marriage, experienced a ionely or melancholy hour. Surrounded by brothers and sisters, all affectionately at- tached to her and to each other ; cherished by parents whose happiness was wrapt up 91 in that of their children; loved for her temper, and admired for her accomplish- ments, she was not only regarded by others as one of -the most enviable favourites of nature and fortune, but felt a grateful con- sciousness herself of the blessings she pos- sessed. From this state of rare but true domestic felicity, she was first withdrawn by the in- fluence Mr. Everley obtained over her. At the time he first became known to her, he was by no means, in regard to external ap- pearance, an ineligible pretender to her fa- vour. His person and deportment were completely those of a gentleman ; his coun- tenance denoted understanding ; and, with the advantages of fine teeth and good eyes, jie, was not wholly undeserving the denomi- nation of handsome. In addition to this, his intellectual endowments were so highly superior to those of the generality of men she had conversed with, that the attention with which, at a very early period of their acquaintance, he distinguished her, no less flattered her vanity, than the apparent 9'2 equanimity of his temper, and benevolence of his disposition, interested her heart. She prided herself upon the reputation for sense and discernment, which a clioice, proclaim- ing such maturity of judgement, would se- cure to her; and fancied, that in becoming the wife of a scholar, a man a\ hose charac- ter as a connoisseur in literature, and a pa- tron of learning, stood so high, she entitled herself to some share in the honours that were paid to him. Actuated by motives such as these, she sanctioned Mr. Everley's application to her father, before it was suspected by a single individual of her family, that the assiduities of which she had been the object, had made any serious impression upon her mind. How to discountenance such a proposal, appeared difficult; yet father, mother, all who were of an age to give an opinion upon the affair, felt a repugnance to con- senting to so disproportioned a match, which not any of its advantages in respect to pecuniary considerations, could, in their eyes, obviate or counterbalance. The fated 93 bride, however, appeared irrevocably de- termined to abide by her sapient choice : the but too probable regrets to which she was condemning herself, were represented to her in vain ; opposition, for the first time in her life, had the effect of rendering her invincibly self-willed : and though at first her acquiescence had resulted from a foolish idea of acquiring consequence by such a union, parental admonitions soon gave to her motives a colouring of romance, and she, at last, very seriously imagined herself impelled to the deed, by a passion as ardent and unconquerable, as it was, the object considered, laudable and rational. The marriage consequently was, in the end, acceded to ; and from that moment ta the hour of its celebration, showers of odes, sonnets, lyrical and pastoral compositions, poured from the fertile pen of the inspired lover, and were, by turns, addressed to his fascinated fair one, to her mother, her five sisters, her canary bird, her gold fishes, and her dutch pug. These little productions, insipid as their subjects frequently were, 94 possessed, notwithstanding, the merit of being coined with facihty and taste : they enraptured the young bride-elect; and the well-chosen nuptial presents with winch they w^'ere generally accompanied, still more enraptured her less poetically-enthusiastic sisters. The marriage-cerejuony over, Mrs. Ever- ley and her newdy-wedded lord set out im- mediately for the usual residence of the latter in this county. The regret with which her friends saw her depart, was ag- gravated by the ill-boding silence observed by Mr. Everley upon the subject of the fu- ture intercourse of the two families. He invited none of her relations to visit him, nor even dropped the slightest hint of any intention speedily to bring her to see them. This omission, however, his bride, affec- tionately attached as she w^as to her natural friends, scarcely seemed to remark. In Mr. Everley, she imagined herself secure of a companion, who would amply compensate to her for every other privation : he w^as to address Parnassus talk to her, all day long ; 95 to open to her mind the stores of knowledge, with which his own was so richly fraught ; to make of her a philosopher, a botanist, an astronomer, a mathematician, and a chemist ; to clear to her, by patient defini- tion, all the mysteries of science; to stimu- late her by encouragement, and to reward her by tenderness. These flattering but illusive expectations retained their hold a few w^eeks, and then gradually, but for ever, vanished ! Mr. Everley, long accustomed to a solitary mode of learned occupation, found h>mself, in a short time, most wofully incommoded by the association to which his blooming partner aspired. She was indefatigably at- tentive, had ready powers of comprehen- sion, and showed the most exemplary do- cility ; but, compared to him, she w^as as ignorant as an infant. To abandon, there- fore, all his favourite pursuits, in order, by slow degrees, to impart the very rudiments of knowledge to one totally unacquainted even with the common terms of art; sl stranger to every language but her own and 96 the French ; a grammarian more by ear than principle ; a calculator instructed only in the first four rules of arithmetic — to wade through the drudgery of communi- cating learned ideas to one so unprovided with every species of fundamental infomna- tion, appeared to him a task no less weari- some than unprofitable. He married her, to obtain, in his hours of leisure, a gentle, good-humoured, enlivening companion ; one who could, when he felt inclined to unbend his mind from severer studies, participate with him in the pleasures to be derived from works of imagination ; from historical or moral compositions; or from the lighter effusions of his own fancy : but to find, or to make of her a Madame Dacier, would have surpassed at once his expectation and his wishes. The discovery of these discouraging sen- timents in her undissembling help-mate, speedily terminated all Mrs. Everley*s high- soaring flights into the regions of science : and scarcely knowing whether to be glad or Sony, that for the close application, and I 97 laborious efforts she had so heroica;1ly plan- ned, no call would ever be made, she had recourse once again to her former more humble occupations — her drawing, her em- broidery, and her piano-forte -, varying these employments, as inclination prompted, by -visits to the green-house, rambles through her husband's grounds, walks to the neigh- bouring cottages, and occasional examina- tions of the contents of the library. Here, however, scarcely more than one book oiit of twenty met her sight, the language or the subject of which she could understand. This was somewhat a melancholy circum- stance; and as winter came on, and she found herself debarred from her accustomed walks, and confined wholly to her own or her husband's equally silent fire-side, the v must a proud and susceptible spirit like his be galled and wounded by this utter indilTerence ! His own injurious dis- dain and fastidious folly incurred it. Ge- raldine merits no blame, even from those who may most lament the unfortunate turix affairs have taken. Could I discern in her the slightest indication of pique, of lurking anger or premeditated reserve, I should re- tain greater hopes ; but her whole beha- viour, her looks, her voice, are equally easy, cheerful, and natural. She never addresses to him an indirect reproach ; makes no al- lusions, in his hearing, to the past ; treats him, whenever he thro^cs himself in her way, with perfect good manners ; and is wholly unpreoccupied, and unaffectedly se- rene. The only apparent difference in her conduct towards him, and towards the rest 139 of the family, is this : — with us, she is ca- ressing and famihar; she consults our tastes and opinions, and is attentive to all our wishes. Lesmore she never speaks to, un- less he first addresses her ; but cool, quiet, negligent, she seems so completely to forget his existence, that I have known it hap- pen, when he has been drawing in the even- ing at a table close to her, and has acci- dentally forborne for some time to join in our conversation, she has literally started on first hearin": asrain the sound of his voice 1 Yesterday evening, Tvladame de St. Her- mine was speaking of some book which Geraldine had promised to bring down to her when she came to tea — ~ " Have you remembered it, my love?'* inquired she. ^' I looked for it before I left the dressing- room," answered Geraldine, " but could no where fnid it. To-morrow I will renew the search." *' Is it not the same my brother borrowed of you last week r" inquired I. 140 " Yes, exactly; I will ask him what he has done with it when he comes in.'* Now, at that very moment, Lesmore was sitting within two yards of her (somewhat in shade, I own), and had even, just before^, stretched out his hand to help himself to cream from the tea-board immediately op- posite to her ! So palpable an instance of her inattention to him surprised us all, and occasioned a general smile. Yet, I could perceive, my brother was hurt and discon- certed, although he attempted to disguise it, and accepted the excuses which, blush- ing, and looking really shocked, she ad- dressed to him, with apparent good-humour. I have given you this little anecdote as an instance, in point, of liis thorough nothing- ness in her estimation. These are ill-boding symptoms, and grieve me most sincerely. During a long ramble Ferdinand induced me to take with him this morning, I insensibly led to the subject, and frankly spoke my opinion upon it. — Amongst other things, I said, '' Geraldine 141 would have been incapable, without provo- cation, of treating you with so Uttle consi- deration : but perceiving that you came to the house decidedly prejudiced against her; prepared to consider her as a weak, insig- nificant girl, she felt the injustice; con- quered the timidity and restraint the dis- covery first occasioned her ; and resuming her native dignity and composure, seems to regard your approbation or your scorn with equal unconcern." He heard me very patiently ; and when I paused, remained silent some minutes, and then said — " There is something in the tranquil, in- dependent pride she manifests, disdaimng to court attention where once it has been rudely withheld, which I cannot but ad- mire. Yet I lament having given birth to it ; and I am fully sensible of the rash arror gance of the judgement I formed of her. — Had she shown me those slights in return for assiduity and politeness, I should de- spise myself for regretting them ; but they originate, I well know, with myself: and 142 therefore I feel no scruple in determining t6 bear them, and to study, by patient sub- mission, to obliterate from her mind the re- membrance of what she first knew me.'* I was mueh pleased with these senti- ments; yet, after all, I can scarcely tell w^hy : for they are terribly rational and dis- passionate ! Not a shadow of love peeps forth from amidst their sententious grayity. Perhaps he was too proud to confess all the regret he experiences ; or, perhaps, he looks forward, in Mrs. Neville, to a compensa- tion for the insensibility of Miss Faucon- berg. I know not exactly what to think. He certainly observes Geraldine with great interest ; addresses her with a sort of hesita- tion am.ounting almost to diffidence; de- lights in her talents; pays invariable de- ference to her opinion ; and is anxious to suffer no opportunity of obliging her to escape his vigilance. But these advances are cautious and gradual, and such as, I firmly believe, she has hitherto entirely overlooked. Heaven knows how it will all end ! I 143 own that, at present, my fears are stronger than my hopes. Sept. 11. For moi'e than a week past Geraldine and I have risen every morning at seven' o'clock, and rode out before breakfast. — Last night Lesmore, who had heard of these excursions, asked our permission to attend us. The request was granted ; and tp-dav we took our first ride thus escorted. Nothing could be more delightful than this little expedition. There is something in the appearance and feel of early day so peculiarly gay and invigorating, that when- ever I have had resolution, in fine weather, to shake off the drowsiness too apt to weigh heavy upon my eye-lids, I have formed the noblest designs of habitual activity, and vowed, internally, " To meet the sun upon the upland lawn," every succeeding morn- ing of my life, I have not always main- tained these excellent determinations; a foggy, or a bleak and sullen atmosphere, puts them all to flight; and the next time I 144 force myself from my downy pillow, it 15 with a pang as if body and soul were tear- ing asunder! However, we have lately had a glorious succession of fine mornings, which I have enjoyed without a single relapse into indolence. Geraldine spoke but little during our ride, and Lesmore seemed disposed to fol- low her example ; but I would not suffer him. I said, tljat as he had chosen to at- tach himself to our party, the least he could do was, to render himself worthy of such a distinction by endeavouring to be agree- able; and, at last, I succeeded in making him very conversable and entertaining. As we were returning home, we passed a small farm-house, occupied by people who, not being, like nearl}^ all the other inhabitants of this district, tenants of Mr. Archer*s, are wholly unknown to his niece. Two or three very fme children ran to the road-side to look at us ; and before we had gone two yards beyond the door, a female, apparently pretty — certainly young — just showed herself in the porch, curt'sied, and 145 seemed, I thought, to regard Lesmore with the air of an old acquaintance. He per- ceived, I imagine, some symptoms of curi- osity or surprise in my countenance, and smiled ; but entered upon no explanation of the circumstance : and, in the presence of Geraldine, I deemed it wiser to forbear all direct inquiries. In the course of the morning, Mrs. Ne- ville drove herself here in a curricle, with one of the young ladies we saw at Westhill. We were all strolling upon the lawn in front of the house, when her elegant little equipage appeared in sight. Lesmore im- mediately knew the livery of the two ser- vants who attended it, and, going to the hall door, stood upon the steps in readiness to hand her from the carriage. In her way to the drawing-room, whither we were by this time returned, I heard her say, " I shall be much disappointed if you do not equally admire my vehicle and my driving. Like all new play-things, it is in VOL. I. H 146 high favour with me 3 and I expect you to be very eloquent upon it." " We have not seen the park look so gay since I have been here/' answered Ferdi- nand. " Your vehicle is perfection ; and as to your driving, since you do every thing else well, I am very ready to believe you acquit yourself dexterously in that art also." Slve now entered the drawing-room, and was received by Geraldine with a grace and good-breeding equal to her own. When Madame de St. Hermine had been intro- duced to her, and we had all taken our seats, she glanced her sparkling eye round the room, and said, " I have not forgotten, Mr. Archer, the authority you delegated to me of deciding upon the capabilities of your house, for giving a ball. To judge by what I have seen of it, nothing can be better adapted to the purpose. In this very room, five and twenty couple might stand up with ease ; — when, therefore, shall you send out your invitations?" 147 *^ I now give you/* answered he, " in my niece's name and my own, yours, my dear madam, for the 24th of this month." " Are you in earnest, dear uncle?" cried Geraldine. " I do not advise him," said Mrs. Neville, laughing, " to be otherwise, after what he has just declared ! He might depend upon seeing me here on the night of the 24th with a band of fiddlers, and half the county in my train, ready to dance to the music I had provided, and determined to make a consumption of the whole contents of his larder and cellar! " " Do not suspect me," resumed he, " of any design to retract ; but though I di- spense with your taking upon yourself the trouble of furnishing the fiddlers, yet I most readily sanction all your exertions to enlist beaux into the service. I fear they are a species of animal of which a woful dearth will be found in this neighbourhood." *^ Be assured ©f my most active co-ope- ration. I know that the commodity in question is of rare attainment in every 148 county; but I never yet was at a ball where there were not more light-heeled, and light-witted coxcombs, than could have been tolerated any where else." Her young companion, who seemed much interested by this conversation, now said, " We know of two gentleman who are coming down mto this neighbourhood next week, and who are both very good dancers." " Your brother, I conclude is one," said Mrs. Neville ; '' but who is the other? " " Colonel Courtvillc. Don't you remem- ber hearing his sister, Mrs. Everley, say, that she was in hourly expectation Of see- mg him at Oakley Lodge ?" " No, really ; I neither retain names nor circumstances so accurately, when an en- tire stranger to those whom the circum- stances concern, and the names belong to!" " Colonel Courtville is not an entire stranger to me," resumed Lady Elizabeth, a little piqued ; " I have met him at several houses in town." 149 *' And is he agreeable? " " I don't know; I never conversed with him.'* " Is he not, however, remarkably hand- some? " inquired my mother, glad to have, at last, thought of any thing to say to our uninteresting visitor ; " Mrs. Everley has a picture of him which gives that idea very strongly." '' Yes," replied Lady Elizabeth; " he is extremely handsome." This assent, unsupported by any subse- quent observation, terminated the little dia- logue my mother had so civilly begun. A new subject, she found, was to be started; and she was too indolent to seek for one. Mrs. Neville, now taking up a book from amongst several others that were scattered upon a small table near her, carelessly opened it, saying, " This must be a little French volume, by its bright pink cover ! O, my old favourite, Adele de Senange I — ' Dear Miss Fauconberg, why do you not have it bound ? " " It does not belong to me," said Gerald- 150 ine^ " I borrowed it yesterday of a lady in the neighbourhood.*' '^ Have you never read it ? '* *' I have never even opened it ! " *' Then, believe me, you have a very great pleasure to come. It is elegantly written, and extremely interesting through- out ; but there is in it one passage so pe- culiarly sw^eet, so innocently tender, that every feeling heart must be affected by it. I will not tell you what the sentence is to which I allude; but, when you read the book, I am sure you will be struck by it." " And should I, do you think," said Ferdinand, smiling, " be equally successful in discovering its merits?" " I don't know; look at it, however. You men, wise as you would be thought, are not above beguiling the tedious hours with a little sentimental nonsense. I have seen many of you read the silliest, the most insipid tales, w ith as much gravity and at- tention as would have served to solve a problem." • ** I assure you," cried my mother, *' that 151 is not the case with Ferdinand, who, gene- rally speaking, dislikes novels." " The truth is," said he, " the heroines of romance are described as beings so be- witchingly amiable, that they put me out of humour with women in real life ; and the heroes are so perfect, that they fdl me with a mortifying sense of my own inferiority." *' I differ from you entirely," cried Mrs. Neville. " One of the strongest objections that might be urged against novels is, the passionate, impatient, and over-bearing character assigned to most of the lovers. The authors tell you a prodigious deal of their generosity, courage, and enthusiastic sensibility ; but many of them are so quar- relsome, have so little self-command, or are so blindly and furiously jealous, that one might live as securely and as peaceably with a half-intoxicated savage ! The per- fect heroes you describe were formerly, I allow, in fashion; but you read of no Sir Charles Grandisons now : the present ton among that class of imaginary per- sons, particularly in foreign publications. 152 is rashness, selfishness, and a sort of mad irritability, for which any actually-exist- ing creature would deserve to be shut up in a dark room, and fed upon bread and water ! " " There is so much justice in this criti- cism," said Madame de St. Hermine, " that good temper, one of the first requisites to happiness in social life, and fortitude to endure evil, one of the noblest virtues of the human mind, seem to be totally put out of the question, in the enumeration of a hero's merits." " What has most provoked me," cried Geraldine, " in the very limited number of these sort of books which I have been per- mitted to read is, the intuitive and super- natural genius, for all kinds of accomplish- ments, attributed to the heroines. Brought up, many of them, in profound retirement, often poor and dependent, they acquire, nobody knows how, a skill in languages, in music, in dancing and drawing, such as we have often found, to our sorrow, the most assiduous application, under the direction 153 of the best masters, will not enable us to attain. And these self-educated ladies are always described as out-soaring every girl of real fashion, who ventures to vie with them in talent and cultivation." ^' I hold these vulgar exaggerations in such profound contempt/' cried Mrs. Ne- ville, " that, were the innate endowments they record credible, I would rather forfeit the chance of ever hearing another note of music, or of ever again beholding another picture, than be condemned to listen to, or look at, the effects produced by them. — But, " something too much of this *." Sup- pose, now, we go and look at your con- servatory, Mr. Archer; I hear it is a de- lightful one." We all attended her to the garden, from whence we led her to the side of the river; showed her the pleasure-boat ; pointed out to her some of our favourite seats j invited her to try her skill in shooting at our tar- get; and then accompanied her back to * Hamlet. H5 154 the house, where, after taking some refresh- ment, she rung for her carriage, saying, " My poor Httle greys must pay for the treat I have been enjoying; I shall make them trot home with their best speed, for I expect company, and shall scarcely have time to dress for dinner." As Lesmore walked with her to the door, whither we likewise escorted her to look at her greys and her curricle, she said to him, '^ I hope next week to have the pleasure of seeing you to dinner, Mr. Lesmore; I shall then have a gentlemen at my house, the brother of Lady Elizabeth, who may relieve you from the fear of encountering a mere party of females." " He is used to that," cried Madame de St. Hermine. " We have him in such good ' training that you need not apprehend his proving refractory." " But you will allow me to suppose, my dear madam, his good behaviour in such society depends a little upon the attrac- . tions he mav find in it.'* 155 She then mounted her light and airy car. Lady Elizabeth stepped in after her, and they drove out of sight with almost alarm- ing rapidity. The first sentence which, in the warmth of her heart, Geraldine uttered as we turned from the door, was, " She is a most dehghtful creature ! " *^ Ehe is, indeed," cried Mr. Archer. " I was charmed with her the moment I saw her at Sir James Charleburg*s. She unites to an appearance of high fashion, a very , beautiful face and figure ; and to the most unaffected vivacity, a great deal of good sense and observation. How long have you known her, Lesmore? and how, in the d 'I's name ! have you escaped falling in love with her ? '* This trying question, whatever might ])e its effects upon the cheeks of Ferdinand, made mine tingle so sensibly, that I turned away to avoid being observed. The coun- tenance of Geraldine, however, caught my eye, an instant, as I passed her: a smile so arch played about her mouth, and there 156 was so much meaning in her downcast face, that had I heen compelled to interpret to her uncle all it expressed, very few doubts would have remained to him of Lesmore's sensibility to the attractions of Mrs. Ne- ville. I heard but indistinctly the answer he made to the plain interrogatory that had been addressed to him; by the tone of his voice, however, I discovered it to be uttered in raillery; and Mr. Archer, laughing, quitted him; and went into his study. I must now close this long letter, my dear Augusta, or it will be too bulky for a frank. Let me only add, that the ball, so- licited by Mrs. Neville, is really determined upon; and that, though Mr. Archer per- mits that lady to imagine it is granted at her request, Madame de St. Hermine tells me, he had it in contemplation from the moment he learnt the disinterested renun- ciation made by dear Geraldine in my fa- vour on the night she was to have gone to Sir James Charleburg's. Ferdinand, you may believe, is invited to prolong his stay 157 here on this occasion. My mother, how- ever, leaves us in a few days to establish herself for the rest of the year at Parkton Castle; but consents to my remaining with my friend till October. I hope at that period, my dear sister, you will pay us your promised visit; my mother herself, though extremely impatient to see both you and your little girl, is so good as not to wish for your arrival till I am at home. Ferdinand will be with her part of the time I shall be absent; and during the remainder, she will amuse herself with superintending the pro- gress of her new dairy. We have sometimes been praised for our accommodating and easy tempers. Do you not think with me, that whatever merit may be imputed to us on that account, we derive by inheritance from our mild and in- dulgent mother ? Who could be captious or unreasonable that had been brought up under the eye of such a parent ! Adieu, my dear Augusta, Yours, with true affection, Julia Lesmore. 158 LETTER XIV. MISS LESMORE TO THE SAME. Sept. 14. All our fine ■^^eather, my dear Au- gusta, has forsakei) us ; and for these last two days we have been confined to the house by ahnost incessant rains, without seeing a single creature. Do not, however, suppose I mean to complain of dulness. We seem all to be provided with spirits more than sufficient to counteract the be- numbing influence of gloomy w eather. Ma- dame de St. Hermine arranges and classes the botanical plants she has employed the summer in drying and collecting. My mo- ther toils like another Penelope at her cross- stitch ; Mr. Archer avails himself of the involuntary reprieve he is obliged to give the partridges, in order to examine some old accounts his steward has vainly plagued him to look at this month past. Geraldine 159 paints whilst I practise the harp, or plays and sings herself whilst I, with the worst memory in the world, puzzle myself over an Italian verb. Ferdinand spends two or three hours in his own apartment after breakfast, and draws or reads. But at two o'clock the scene changes ; we all become sociable, and meet in the library, to eat fruit and brown bread ; inquire after each other's proceedings of the morning ; com- ment upon the weddings or stories of mur- der in the newspaper^ and romp with the dogs; then, while Mr. Archer and my brother go to the billiard-room, Geraldine and I repair to the hall, and play at battle- dore and shuttlecock. The exclamation of \' O dear, I wish it would be fme!" does not proceed from any of our lips oftener than once in four and twenty hours. J had nearly, however, by my own flip- pancy, deprived myself of the resource which battledore and . shuttlecock afford. Yesterday, whilst Geraldine and I were en- gaged at this favourite game, Lesmore, who was waiting to begin playing at billiards 160 till a man went away who had just called upon Mr. Archer on business, stood look- ing at us in the hall nearly a quarter of an hour. In the evening, happening to pass the little table at which he usually sits and draws, I took a peep over his shoulder at what he was doing, and before he could be aware of my vicinity, beheld a very grace- ful female figure, which, though but slightly sketched in chalks, represented the exact attitude, dress, and fonn of Geraldine, such as he had seen her in the morning whilst observing her in the hall. I leant gently forward, and said in a low voice, " Give me that drawing, Ferdinand ; I shall value it much more than you will.*' He started on finding me so near him, but answered with perfect good humour, '^ You possess already an ample share of the original's favour. I have nothing but this inanimate resemblance of her : let me, at least, retain that." I was pleased with this reply, and, pat- ting his shoulder, returned to my seat. But when we went up for the night, I 161 could not forbear telling Geraldine what I had seen. She laughed, coloured a little, said it was very flattering to her to find Mr. Lesmore thought her figure worth design- ing ; and wishing me good night, went to her own room. Thus far all was very well : but this morning, when at the usual hour she asked me again to play, I pertly enough rallied her upon the subject of the drawing, and told her she wanted to furnish attitudes for another. " O Julia! what an opinion you must have of my vanity ! You make me almost determine never to play again." Saying this, she actually passed me with the intention, I believe, of going back to the dressing-room ; but I flew after her, and partly by entreaties, partly by remonstran- ces, prevailed upon her to return. Ferdi- nand never approached us, and our game was disturbed by no intruding observers. The French novel Mrs. Neville so strongly recommended to our perusal, has been a 162 great resource to us these last two evenings. Madame de St. Hermine, who reads her native language so admirably, and Gerald- ine, who, from the long habit of associating with her, performs that difficult task equally well, take it by turns to be our public lec- turers. We sit in a little group near the fire (for since these rains we have fires in the evening), and ■ — *' forsret all time *' AH seasons, and their change.^' My mother and Mr. Archer, at a separate table, play a quiet game at piquet 5 but, now and then, listen to what is going for- ward, make some little observation, and take no inconsiderable degree of interest in the story. We proceeded through several letters which, however entertaining and well writ- ten, appeared not to contain any passage worthy the high praise we had heard from Mrs. Neville, when Geraldine, who had the book in her hand, and, during an 163 interruption made by Mr. Archer, had suf- fered her eye to glance forward, hastily cried out, '^ O this must be the part Mrs. Neville alluded to!" She then went on reading an account of the accidental discovery of some benevo- lent action performed by the hero of the tale, and which his mistress gently re- proaches him for not having revealed sooner. " // falloit^^* dit-elki " nous mettre dans voire confidence ; nous aurions partage voire bonne aciion.^^ — " Ne me reprochez pas mon silence ; il-y-a une sorie d'emharras a parler du peu de hien qiCon peui faired — " Pour- guoi r* demandai-elle, vivemeni, " AIoi,fen ferois expres pour vous le dire "^ I *' The unpremeditated tenderness and ex- quisite simplicity of this last speech, drew * " You ought," said she,-" to have admitted us into your confidence ; we would have shared in your charit- able action." — " Do not reproach me for my silence. — It is embarrassing to speak of the little good we may do." — '' Why so ?" demanded she, with viracity, " I would do good expressly to tell you of it 1" 164 from every mouth an exclamation of de- light. " How is the man to be envied," cried Ferdinand with warmth, '^ to whom words, artlessly implying such devoted affection, could be addressed !" " But what a delicious motive for doing good !" said Geraldine. " Of all human in- citements, that of giving pleasure to those we love seems to me the highest !" " Retain, and ever cherish this social and disinterested sentiment !'* cried Madame de St. Hermine, regarding her with the kindest approbation; " I love to discover in my Geraldine feelings so generous and so friendly !" I stole a side-long glance at Lesmore during this speech, and, to say the truth, observed that he seemed to love her quite as well ! Leaning upon one arm, his port- crayon suspended over his drawing, and his dark eyes rivetted upon the animated coun- tenance of Geraldine, he appeared to con- template her with affection, softness, and complacency. Since he has been here, I 165 have never seen his hberal and feeling mind shine forth in his looks so strongly 1 How much I wished, at that moment, to have possessed the power of directing towards him the attention of the lovely object of his meditations ! But she dreamt not of having attracted his notice ; never turned her eyes towards the place where he sat ; and in a few minutes again resumed her book. Ah, Ferdinand ! how continually when I reflect upon the tardy change in your opinion of this most amiable girl, do these words of Shakespeare occur to my recol- lection, '* What our contempts do often hurl from us, " We wish it ours again \" Ant. & Cleop. Sept. 15. My mother left us this morning, more warmly prepossessed than ever in favour of our dear Geraldine, whose attention to her, during her whole visit, has been unremit- ting and affectionate. 166 The sun again peeps forth ; our walks, though not to such a distance from home, have been resumed; the slaughter of the poor partridges, by our two gentlemen, has again commenced ; visitors once more fmd their way to the house j and the day after to-morrow Mrs. Neville dines here, with a large party of Everleys and Charleburgs. Sept. 16. I HAVE again seen the young woman of whom I mentioned having had a glimpse at the farm-house we passed during our last early ride. She was at church this morn- ing, in company with an elderly man, who, I imagine, is her father. In walking to our pew, some little impediment obliged us to stop for a moment, and my eyes accident- ally rested upon this girl. She is, as I sa- gaciously suspected, extremely pretty, and has a look of perfect modesty ; but I did not instantly recollect her, and perhaps might not have done so at all, had not a bright blush, and a half-pleased, half-bashful •-a» 167 . glance which she cast towards Ferdinand, who was walking next me, recalled the former interview, if it may be so termed, to my remembrance. The change in the young woman's countenance escaped not, I fear, the observation of Geraldine, who, as well as myself, was at that moment re- garding her. She moved forward, however, as soon as the path-way was cleared, with-' out turning her head ; but I could not for- bear looking round at my brother, upon whose face I perceived the traces of a re- cent and very friendly smile. What can be the circumstances attending his knowledge of this girl ? Why does she blush on seeing him ? And why each time I have beheld her, has he, though evidently aware of my curiosity concerning her, observed so total a silence upon the subject ? Time, perhaps, may explain all this mystery : meanwhile, I have only to wish Geraldine had not wit- nessed the sort of intelligence that seems to subsist between them. She has said no- thing to me, however, in relation to the 168 business, and perhaps has already forgot- ten it. Sept. 18. Our company staid late yesterday, and, when they went, I was too sleepy and tired to take up the pen. Mr. and Mrs. Everley brought with them, by previous permission, solicited in the morning, the brother of the latter. Colonel Courtville. He is now quartered at N , but spends much of his time at Oakley Lodge. Though by no means so hand- some at eight and twenty or thirty, as his picture represents him to have been at six- teen, he is still eminently distinguished for personal appearance : but he is a thorough coxcomb, and rather of the old-fashioned school. In his looks and voice there is a studied sentimentality, a dying softness, that renders it difficult and embarrassing to en- counter his eye. He seems making love to every lady he addresses ; and I suspect is by no means backward in attributing to the 169 irresistible force of his own attractions, the confusion his languishing glances often oc- casion. The other individuals of our party were Mrs. Neville, her two guests. Lady Eliza- beth and Lady Catherine Neville, Sir James Charlebury, and his son and daughter. The three latter are, in all respects, by far the most disagreeable people I have become acquainted with in this neighbourhood. Sir James obtained his present title and estate, as heir-at-law to the last possessor, to whom he was personally an utter stranger. What his habits and pursuits might be previ- ous to this elevation, I will not pretend to determine; there is every reason, however, to conclude, by his very evident want of education, and the prodigious consequence he now assumes, that they were not such as he would, at this time, be proud to ac- knowledge. The son is a pedantic, awkward, college' student; vociferous, presuming, and, tome, intolerable. Miss Charlebury, with a pretty figure, but an unmeaning, sallow, plain VOL. I. I 170 countenance, affects the coquettish airs of a beauty ; practises a thousand hackneyed tricks to obtain notice j and conveys, in her manners towards women, much of the for- ward famiHarity with which she seeks to gain attention from the men. She has re- ceived an expensive education ; dances well, but affectedly ; sings, plays the piano- forte, and, as her father took care to inform us, the lute, the lyre, the Spanish guitar, and the pedal harp ! She chose always to ad- dress Madame de St. Hermine in French, though that lady speaks English with the greatest facility, and with less foreign ac- cent than any of her countrywomen I ever heard. Miss Charlebury likewise found opportunity to acquaint us with her profi- ciency in the Italian language ; talked flu- ently of Tasso, Petrarch, and Dante; said she was now studying Spanish and German ; and, in short, did every thing that in one visit could be done, towards inspiring us with boundless veneration for her immense acquirements. Previous to this, however, it was her fa- 171 therms turn to display his importance, in a manner scarcely veiled even by the flim- siest covering of delicacy or good manners, he made perpetual comparisons between the merits of his own and Mr. Archer's cook; sipped and tasted the wine with the smack of a connoisseur -, asked how long Mr. Archer had had it ? what vintage it was of? whether he remembered the port, claret, or Madeira he had drank when last at Charlebury Hall ? told what each pipe cost him ; repeated the favourable observa- tions upon it of sundry lords and baronets ; informed us what the average weight of his pine apples had been the last two seasons, and recommended to his host a new method of managing his hot-house, acknowledging it was expensive, but pompously adding, " Every thing must be expensive if you seek for perfection; and I fairly confess that it always puts me out of humour to see at my own table a merely moderate thing of any kind. Fruit, for instance, which I myself seldom touch, I am so particularly nice about, that I always gather it with my 172 own hand. Pray, Mrs. Neville, send up that dish of grapes ; they appear to me to be some of the same sort I lately sent as a present to my Lord . He tasted them at Charlebury Hall, and declared they were the finest he ever met with ; considerably better than any he had at either of his seats. So, I sent him a handsome basket of them, and Arabella wrote a polite note, accompanied with the words and music of a Spanish song, wdiich my lord heard her sing to her guitar, and which, we thought, might be acceptable to Lady Georgiana, his daughter.'* After this, he examined the grapes with profound gravity, bunch by bunch, and ended with candidly acknowledging, that though these were certainly very fine, he had scarcely any but what were heavier, and bore lararer fruit. *^ But there is," continued he, by way of consolation, " a great deal of luck in all tliese things. I happen to have one of the very best gardeners in England ; the aspect of my hot-house is perfection ; I spare no 173 cost to have eveiy thing as good as the cli- mate will allow ; and, somehow or other, I am so fortunate as to succeed be^^ond even my own most sanguine expectations.'* Mr. Archer bore all this parade of supe- riority with exemplary composure and in- dilYerence. Mrs. Neville talked to her two neighbours, Mr. Everley and my brother; Colonel Courtville, in a low voice, ad- dressed to me a great deal of insignificant small-talk ; his sister looked weary ; the Lady Nevilles surveyed the boasting ba- ronet with grave contempt; Geraldine, sup- pressing a smile, stole, now and then, an expressive look at the half-yawning Ma- dame de St. Hermine; Mr. Charlebury oc- casionally chimed in with his insufferable father ; and his sister entered into a voluble detail, intended for the joint edification of the Colonel and myself, of the immense trouble she took, w hen in town last year, to procure a pit-box at the opera, the only part of the house, she added, in which her friend Lady L. who was to be partner with her in the subscription, would ever sit. 174 At length this repast, which, to me, proved the dullest, and appeared by far the longest I ever made at liighgrove Park, concluded. Gerald ine retired with the la- dies, and left Mr. Archer to the enjoy- ment of all Sir James's self-satisfied gran- deur. It was now too late and dusky to pro- pose a general stroll in the garden, although the air was mild and serene. Mrs. Neville, however, scrupled not to encounter the dews of evening, and asked Mrs. Evcrley if she would venture to accompany her. She readily consented -, at her desire I joined the party ; and throwing on our shawls, we sallied forth. The moment she thou«:ht herself fairlv out of hearing — " Oh heavens!'* exclaimed Mrs. Neville, " what a dissfustinoc torrent of arrogant impertinence are we at length released from \ Do not be angry with me, Miss Lesomre -, but I shall die if I do not give vent ttx some of my spite against that ©dious Sir James V " Q pxay,'* said I, laughing, " make no 175 stranger of me! I have not the least desire to become his champion." " No, you cannot have so bad a taste : but I thought you might internally accuse me of flippancy and indiscretion for avow- ing my opinion of him so openly. I will tell you a secret, my dear Miss Lesmore : I am half afraid of you : and as the sensa- tion is by no means pleasant, it has some- times been accompanied by a determination to didike you. Before I finally resolve upon so desperate an expedient, tell me whether it is quite impossible to soften your heart, and gain humble admittance into some one of its little unoccupied recesses ?" The irreastible frankness and good-hii* mour of this speech q^te disarmed me^ and thawed all the- frostiiiess of my disposition towards her. I drew her arm within my own, and holding her hand as we pursued our walk, said, "^ No, dear Mrs. Neville, do not threaten to dislike me, since the oftener I see you, and the more I know you, the worse I could endure the fulfilment of such a menace." 176 *' Shall we then sign a treaty of aunty ? You know not the pride and pleasure it would give me to be in favour with the chosen friend of Geraldine Fauconberg." " Who could fail," cried L, '' being in the highest possible favour with me, who does justice to the merit of one I so affec- tionately love ?'* '' I wonder not at your attachment to her. She is indeed a sw^eet creature. Mrs. Ever- ley can tell you how enthusiastically I spoke of her after the very first interview ; and every succeeding one confirms my parti- ality. In her aspect, maimers, voice, there is' something bewitchingly attractive ; her countenance, youthful and gentle as it is, has yet an air of high breeding, that gives it unusual dignity ; all she says is accom- panied with an easy propriety, a sort of temperated animation, that gives value and interest to the slightest expression. Were I in sorrow, I think nothing would sooth me more than to hear her speak to, and see her regard me with pity ; and yet I am not fond of pity, I assure you : from half the 177 world it comes in " such a questionable shape," it might be mistaken for insult." Praise so just, and so cordially delivered, of my beloved Geraldine, filled my eyes with tears of gratitude and pleasure. I pressed Mrs. Neville's hand as it still rested upon my arm, and said — ^' Geraldine already admires you with the same liberal spirit you extol her ; and henceforward I shall be truly ambitious to cultivate the friendship you are so good as to offer me." *' You are, I believe, a very amiable and warm-hearted girl ;" cried she, apparently much pleased, " and if you promise to cast upon me no more petrifying and frigid looks, I very readily promise to love you with the sincerest affection." Then addressing Mrs. Everley, *' Tell me, my dear madam, why do all the good people in this neighbourhood submit to be annoyed by the vulgar ostentation of those mushroom Charleburys ?'' " I am quite unable to answer such a question. They were established in the I 5 ITS county before I came to it, and are pro- bably endured on account of their wealth and their good dinners." " Wealth ! I despise it, when disgraced by pride and ignorance ! Good dinners ! what dinners could be such, that were poi- soned by barefaced insolence, coarse exulta- tion, and inhospitable pomposity !'* " Ail this is very fine," said Mrs. Ever- ley, laughing; " but be assured, that if even such a man as Mr. Archer, possessed of affluence and independence, as well as of taste to disdain such society, thinks it worth while, by a little occasional civility, to avoid making an enemy of a powerful neighbour, others would fmd it but a dan- gerous experiment to adopt a system of over-refmed delicacy. Sir James, when offended, is extremely litigious and inve- terate; and would readily expend upon a law-suit, to distress and molest an enemy, as much as he would upon show and pa- rade, to mortify or outvie a competitor." " Hateful wretch I Yet every county, every city, every village, contains an evil- 179 genius, a scourge of this malignant descrip- tion! Nay, too often, in private families, you find individuals whose tormenting tem^ pers, and overbearing arrogance, make life a burthen to all who are placed within their reach. I have never known the happiness which filial or sisterly affection may im- part ; but I have observed, that even that may be imbittered by the pestilential va- pours of selfishness, and the perverse dis- contents of caprice." The sounel of music at a distance here interrupted our conversation. We listened with attention, and I soon distinguished the clear, mellow, and grateful voice of Ge* raldine, accompanied by the drawing-room piano-forte. The upper part of the sashes were drawn down, though the room was now lighted up ; and the night was so per- fectly calm and still, that we scarcely lost a single note. Gradually and quietly we approached nearer to the house, and stop* ping within a few paoes of the windows, Iftfhich are almost level with the lawn, we 180 stood, lost in shadow, listening to the con- clusion of the song, and looking at the com- pany within. The gentlemen were not yet come out of the dining-parlour ; but near the instrument sat Miss Charlebury, nod- ding her head to mark the time. In sepa- rate parts of the room, leaning back in arm-chairs, and stretching forth their long limbs to their utmost extent, sat the ladies Elizabeth and Catherine Neville, appearing wholly uninterested in what was going for- ward, drowsy and vacant. Madame de St. Hermine had, for a time, left the room, probably wearied of a trio which poor Ge- rald ine was under the necessity of endea- vouring to entertain. As soon as her air concluded, she arose, and resigned her place to Miss Charlebury, saying, " I am now authorized to ask for the pleasure of hearing you, since your de- claration that you would not be the first to sing, I hope implied that you would not refuse to be the second." *' O, pray do not urge me just now ! My 181 voice would s^ound shockingly so soon after yours ! Let me only play to you at pre- sent." *^ You shall do exactly as you please ;" said Geraldine, " but tell lyie what music I shall look out for you/* " The conceited animal," said Mrs. Ne- ville, in a low voice, " defers singing till she can have an audience of men to admire her!" " I have myself heard her perform," ob- served Mrs. Everley, " and am greatly mis- taken if she wins applause from any of the gentlemen it may be her aim to enchant to- night." During these remarks, the accomplished Arabella was turning over, making diffi- ' culties, and finding a variety of objections against every composition the patient and good-humoured Geraldine put before her ; and, at last, it became so evident that she was determined to avoid playing at all dur- ing the absence of the male part of the company, that the point was given up; and soon after we went in, to afford Ge- I8(> raldiae what relief we could from so irksome a situation. Then it was that Miss Charlebury regaled us with the notable detail I before men- tioned of her own marvellous instruction and indefatigable application. !Mrs. Ever- ley and I tried to listen with as much civil- ity as Geraldine; but Mrs. Neville made not even the attempt : she seated herself apart, upon a low sofa, drew towards her a small table and a light, and with perfect composure begun reading a new review. On the re-appearance of Madame de St. Ilermine tea was ordered, and, very soon after, Mr. Archer and his guests came in. Ferdinand entered last, and Mrs. Neville, singling him. out, offered him a place next her. Colonel Courtvillc drew a cliair be- tween Geraldine and me, saying, as he seated himself, " I thought, not long since, that I heard the soiuid of music, stealing o'er my ear like the sweet south That breathes upon a bank of violets. 1* Who was the fair harmonist ? and why 183 * have her syren strains so spee^Uly ceased ?^' Geraldiue smiled, and quietly answered, *^ I was singing in hopes the example would be followed by Miss Charlebuiy; but I have not yet succeeded in prevailing upon her to let me hear her.'* " O, that's very bad, Arabella,'* cried Sir James, catching the sound of his daugh- ter's name, and therefore Hstening to the sequel of the speech, " that's very bad in- deed ! You must give us a song , I'll take no denial; you positively must sing, and play us a sonata too 1" " Well, papa, when we have done tea, if you desire it, I wilL" " That's right, that's right. I have no notion of letting people hide their talents^ m a napkin. You have particular reason, child, to rejoice that nature has given you such powers ; for if she had been a niggard to you of those, it is not all the expense I have lavished upon masters that would have enabled you to aGComplisli what you now do." Se\^erai nemonatcances in a simifo? stram. 184 addressed to his daughter, but intended to- impress upon our minds a due respect for her abilities and his magnificent spirit, passed during tea ; and as soon as it was over, the now tractable and obliging young lady was led to the instrument. My expectations were not high, and in some respects she far surpassed them. She appears to be a pretty good musician, and her execution is brilliant, but her voice is harsh and vulgar-toned ; her expression ex- aggerated, and her bravura passages shrill and desperate. This first specimen of her savoir-faire was crowned ^vith sufficient applause to in- duce her, without hesitation, to proceed to an instrumental piece ; and with incredible rapidity she dashed and rattled through an extremely difficidt concerto, to the joy and exultation of her father, and the amaze- ment and distraction of every body else ! These two successive performances would have amply satisfied the company ; but we were not to be let off upon such easy terms. As soon as the poor piano-forte had received 185 its final thinnp — for she really struck it with the strong hand of a boxer — her father called upon her to play something upon the harp. 1 trembled for mv beloved instrument, but concealed my fears, and suffered Colonel Courtville to bring it from the little quiet recess where it had hitherto been secured from molestation. After tuning a few notes, and actually placing her hands upon the strings. Miss Charlebury seemed suddenly to recollect herself, and called out, " Papa, do you know Miss Lesmore plays the harp ? And, I dare sav, a vast deal better tlian I do : 1 wish she would take my place.*' *^ Does she, my dear," said Sir James, coolly. *^ Well, I am sure, we shall all be very glad to hear her : but do, child, give us first the favourite air and variations Lord ~ — so much admires. You can remember it, I have no doubt.** The fair Arabella made no further oppo- sition ; and probably, had her lute, her lyre, and her Spanish guitar been attain- able, would, with equal readiness, when 186 the air and variations ended, have treated us with samples of her skill upon each. Luckily, however, this was not practicable, aiKl no one pressing her to renew her exer- tions upon either of the instruments she had already tried, she was most civilly thanked for the entertainment she had afforded, and a cessation at length ensued ; for, tired of the very idea of music, neither Geraldine nor I would take the place she resigned. Sir James condescendingly said, he hoped I would, on some future occasion, allow him tlie pleasure of hearing me : and added, *' Young ladies are apt to take fright on hearing another perform a very difficult composition ; but I dare say. Miss Les- moi'e, you had no reason for doing so. Be- sides, I assure you, Arabella by no means played her best to night : she is not at all in good practice ; for, what with our ball, what with visits we have been making, and company we have had at home, she lias found little or no time for her musical stu- dies. By the way, Mr. Archer, yon are going to give a ball, it seems. Faith, I am 187 glad my example takes so well ! And now 1 think of it, your having a thing of this kind just now, may enable me to be of some little use to you. I had all my co- loured lamps, and various other decorations from town : they are not yet sent back, nor, indeed, to say the truth, do I think it will be worth my while to return them at all. If I make no future use of them, my friends may ; their cost is a matter of no - conse- quence to me : and if they can be of any use to you, they are much at your service." " Thank you. Sir James,'* said Mr. Archer; " if we want them we will apply to you : but I don't think my niece is very fend of coloured lam2>s ; and this is to be her ball." ^^ They are the most odious things in the world!" cried Mrs, Neville. " I always think, when I see them, of a lion and a unicorn, a shapeless crown, and a vulgar transparency, on a birth-night, over a shoe- maker's shop!'* " And did they bring all these things to your remenabrance, nladam," said Sir James, 188 much pi(|ued, '' the evening you honoured my house with your presence ?" " I really do not recollect ; I never was so stupid at a ball in my life/' Sir James seemed to be considerino: what answer, at once decently civil and comibri- ably spiteful, he should make to this speech. Time, however, was not allowed him to settle the point; for Geraldine, to give a different direction to his thoughts, proposed a pool of commerce, to which most of the party present consented. The Charleburvs were the first who de- parted, their house being the most distant, and the road to it so bad, part of the way, that the horses are obliged to proceed upon it at a mere foot-pace. The short time spent with us afterwards by the rest of the company was extremely pleasant. Mrs. Neville inquired whether we had read Adele de Senange, and dis- covered her favourite passage ? She was much gratified to find we coincided in opi- nion w^ith her so well ; showed the utmost kindness and attention to Geraldine ^ im*- 189 proved her acquaintance with the elegant Madame de St. Hermine; and, as the moment drew near for ordering her car- riage, said, " Before I go, my dear Miss Fauconberg, will you consent to give me one httle simple air ; a Venetian ballad, for instance, or any thing else you like better, by way of sweetening my mouth, after the nausea occasioned by the loud and coarse screaming of the accomplished Arabella?" We all joined in this request, and Ge- raldine, laughing at the strange manner in which it was made, complied without dif- ficulty. She sung one of Millico's well- known canzonets with such taste and feel- ing, that Mrs. Neville, quite enchanted, kissed her cheek when she arose, and, in the following quotation from an elegant Italian poet, at once applauded and thanked her : — '' Ne decider lieve fia '* Alia debil mente mia ** Se facesse in me piu incanto " II tuo volto, od il tuo canto." Geraldine could not be. insensible to 190 praise so flattering, proceeding from ilic lips of a woman she so greatly admire^;. Feixlinand's eyes sparkled with undissem- bled pleasure ; and Mr. Everley seizing the opportunity for a poetical imprompfUy the idea of which, however, was furnished by the Italian author, addressed the fair mu- sician in these lines — Judgement suspended holds our choice Where nature's partial bounty showVs Such gifts of beauty, charms of voice. As beggar our descriptive pow^-s : — If love the pref^ence gives to grace. Taste claims for song the noblest place ! This little extemporary production met with all the applause its unstudied readi- ness deserved. Mrs. Neville appointed its author poet in ordinary to the female part of the company present ; desired, very speedily, to see some composition addressed to herself; and then, perceiving that Mrs. Everley was preparing to depart, took the hint, and rung for her own carriage. Thus, my dear Augusta, by means of an immoderately long letter, have I brought 191 you to the conclusion of our dinner-party. May you, in reading it, experience less weariness than,^ during some portion of the day,. I endured myself. Adieu. Ever affectionately yours, Julia Lesmore. 192 LETTER XV. FERDINAND LESMORE, ESQ. TO THE REV. ARCHIB.AJJ) \ NEWENDEN. Highgrove Park, My dear Sir, Sept. 19. The day approaches which I had fixed upon for beginning my journey from hence to your house. Instead of your expected pupil, however, you will receive this letter; and, I flatter myself, experience some dis- appointment at the substitution. A request from Mr. Archer to prolong my stay, on an occasion I could not easily decline, must account to you for this change in my plans. But how shall I account for my late silence, or for the concise and unsatisfactory tenoiir of my last letter ? Believe me, it has been my wish to confide in you as unreservedly as at anv period of my life: but a weak and unworthy sentiment. of false shame ; re- luctance to acknowledge a past error ; these 193 have been the hitherto insurmountable ob- stacles to my accustomed sincerity. I have, at length, determined to conquer such ir- rational pride, and to open to you my whole heart. What a change has that wayward heart' undergone, since, with such unfounded prejudice and asperity, I declaimed against- the alliance projected for me by my family 1 Let me frankly own it, my respected friend; in the character and manners of the lady who was destined for me, I have disco- vered, too late, perhaps, for my happiness, all that in the most visionary and romantic moments of my life, I ever pictured to my imagination of good, generous, feeling, and sincere ! — an understanding refined, but not enervated, by cultivation ; a sagacity tem- pered with indulgence ; a strength of mind blended with softness and modesty ; an in- genuousness the most bewitching, and a temper of such cheerful equanimity, such conciliating gentleness, that where she did not fmd content, she would produce it ! — To the period when I presumptuously VOL. I, K 194 slighted such a creature, I now look back with the profouiidest amazement, almost with incredulity ! To a panegyric so earnest, yet so just, all I have to add will give you pain. It will grieve you to hear that I have rendered myself to this most amiable girl an object, if not of dislike, at least of fixed and total indifference. At first, my own repulsive manners disconcerted, and, I am ashamed to add, intimidated her j but from the mo- ment she overcame sensations so arrogantly excited, and resumed her wonted ease and composure, she ceased entirely to think of me. I have nothing to complain of, though so much to lament; since, on no occasion, did she ever cast upon me an ungracious look, or address to me a mortifying expres- sion. The fact is, she does not address me at all ! If I am near her, she endures it pa- tiently ; for whilst I am silent, she seems not aware of the vicinity. If I speak to her, she answers with mildness and courtesy ; but scrupulously avoids saying more than is indispensably necessary, or ever being the 195 first to begin a conversatian. I purposely devise pretences for soliciting little acts of civility from her; such as the loan of a book, the gift of a pencil, and many other trifles, which, in reality, I only wish for or value because they have once been in her possession. These she is ever ready to grant with equal politeness and alacrity ; but the boon once bestowed, she is gone before I have even time to thank her 1 Hinnbled and depressed by a conduct so dignified, so consistent, yet so uncommon, I lose all courage to attempt engaging her attention; without designing it, she sub- dues and dispirits me'. Every hour, some unsuspected talent, some new proof of the kindness of her affectionate heart, some new grace, rivets the chain by which she so unconsciously binds me. Yet still to her I appear but as a stern and arrogant cen- sor. What a hght to be considered in by a lovely young woman, herself all vivacity and animation ; in the full tide of health vind jocund spirits ; caressed and adored by all who approach her ; and reared in the 196 very sun-shine of approving indulgence ! Is it matter of wonder, the contrast so striking between what she considers me, and what she has ever been accustomed to behold in those who surround her, that she should conceive of my temper and disposition an opinion the most prejudicial to my future interests ? That my dear, misjudging mother had but foreborn communicating to me the fa- vourite project of her heart ! Seeing Miss Fauconberg for tlie first time, merely as a distant relation, as the friend of my three sisters, and the eleve of Madame de St. Hermine, I am certain I should have been enchanted by her ; but urged, persecuted for many months past to visit this spot, for the sole purpose of beholding the long- cried-up idol of all their hearts; of teaching myself to fall in love with her ; of making advances towards a connexion which was at once to unite two estates formerly in the possession of the same proprietor, and two people scarcely less than total strangers to each other; I own that my compliance /^ 197 was attended with a degree of repugnance amounting almost to disgust ; and sickened of the very mention of female accomplish- ments, detesting the idea of a mere marriage of interest, I came hither prepared to view the wealthy heiress with disapproving eyes, and very little solicitous to render myself to her any other than an object of recipro- cal antipathy. Fmust acknowledge, likewise, that at this time I am speaking of, Mrs. Neville held a very high place, if not in my heart, at least in my imagination. Indeed, 1 still think her one of the most agreeable women I know : but the period is passed when, wish- ing only that some traits in her character were softened, I might, as to a blessing, aspire to the honour of her good opinion. No change in Mrs. incvixw — , , ^^,^^ me iiappy in the prospect of a union with her: the change in myself has eradicated all former impressions, and thrown into the hands of Geraldine Fauconberg the sole power of rendering me fortunate or wretched. 1 am now come to the conclusion of my 198 penitential confession. You are the first, my dear ghostly father, to whom pride of heart has permitted me to make it. While Miss Fauconberg continues to manifest to- wards me an indifference so mortifying, I cannot prevail upon myself to acknowledge my sentiments for her, even to my sister Julia. Madame de St. Hermine, unre- served upon most other topics, has uni- formly preserved the strictest silence, when conversing with me, concerning her beau- tiful pupil. You will not w*onder that this should have been still more scrupulously the case with Mr. Archer. Here let me terminate this letter ; assur- ing you, that my purposed visit, though deferred, is not relinquished. I will write again as soon as I can fix a dav for settitigr Believe me, my dear and honoured friend, your grateful and affectionate Ferdinand Lesmore. 199 LETTER XVL MISS LESMORE TO MRS. LUMLEY Highgrove Park, My dear Augusta, Sept. 22-. Ferdinand dined yesterday at Mrs. Neville's, to meet Lord Litchmere, the brother of her two guests, with w-^hom he was already well acquainted, and who, this morning, rode over here with one of his sisters, and was introduced to all our party. He appears a very sensible young man ; i<= perfectly well bred, but somewhat formal and reserved. His stay at Westhill willj be short, as he is only come to fetch his sisters, who, daring their father's absence from home, were permitted to put themselves under the protection of their youthful aunt. The earl is now at his own mansion ajrain •. and his daughters only defer their return to him till the bail at this house is over. 200 Mrs. Neville, the day before my brother dined there, apologized for not including the whole family in her invitation, but gave no reason for the omission. Preparations are making here for our fete, and much pleasant bustle is going for- ward. Sir James Charlebury's coloured lamps have not been applied for : our chief decorations will consist of flowers and green- house plants. Geraldine and I are already deeply engaged : several officers of Colonel Courtville's regiment, men of family and fashion, are invited ^ and we anticipate the gaities of the evening with great delight. At the distance of about seven mileb from hence there is a fine stately old man- sion, belonging to a nobleman now absent on a tour to the lakes. It contains an ex- cellent collection of pictures ; and a party, — ^\r,ir\^a. ^f A/frc Neville and her three -guests, Mrs. Everley, Colonel CourtviHe, and ourselves, was formed this morning to 201 go and see it. Various were the convey- ances by which we chose to transport our- selves thither. Mrs. Archer and Madame de St. Hermine preferred being rowed down the river in the pleasure-boat, the house to which we were going being situated within a quarter of a mile of its banks ; and Lady Catherine Neville, as well as Mrs. Everley, begged to accompany them. Col. Court- ville drove Lord Litchmere in his curricle, and Mrs. Neville took Lady Elizabeth into hers. Geraldine, Lesmore, and I went on horseback. x Those who were upon terra firma kept together as much as possible. We were all in excellent spirits, the day was beautiful, and nothing could be more picturesque than some parts of the road we had to pass. Men, women, and children ran to their cottage doors to see the gay cavalcade ; and many of the company liberally distributed the contents of their purses amongst the neediest looking of these humble spectators. At length we reached the spot appointed for our place of general rendezvous ^ a k5 202 shady part of the road, on the edge of the river. Here we aUghted to wait for our friends in the boat, ordering the servants to go forward to Lord B 's house with the carriages and horses : and here, as we were laughing, talking, and sauntering under the trees, a feeble, but heart-rending moan, suddenly struck our ears. We started — all became silent — and w4th one consent stopped, and cast our inquiring eyes around. In vain, however; we saw nothing but the river on one side the road, the hedge and trees on the other. " What could that be?" Mrs. Neville at length ventured to say. *' Some unhappy creature in distress,*' answered Geraldine^ in an accent of com- iniseration. The m.oans w^re at that instant distinctly heard again ; and every body now declared that they proceeded from the field on the other Side of the hedge." " Let us call back one of the senants to go and see what it is/' ^said Lady Eliza- beth. 203 ^' Let us go ourselves r* cried the active and humane Geraldine. Saying this, she flew to a gate, some way- higher up the lane, which opened into the field, and, with the assistance of Ferdmand, who was the first to hasten after her, turn- ing it on its crazy and half-demolished hing- es, forced her slender figure through it, and was out of sight in a moment : Les- more, to save time, let it fall back when she had passed^, sprung over it, and disap*^ peared in his turn. Animated by their ex- ample, we all proceeded to the same spot j our two remaining gentlemen contrived to fasten the gate securely back, and we ad- vanced, in a body, along the side of the hedge towards the place where we saw Ge- raldine and my brother standing. When we joined them, how deplorable a spectacle presented itself to our eyes ! Stretched upon the earth at their feet lay an emaciated, bruised, and half-naked ne- gro, apparently bereft of sense, and in the last faint convulsions of expiring misery ! 204 A low, but general exclamation of pity and horror was heard from every mouth. " Unfortunate creature !" cried Mrs. Ne- ville, " is he dead?'* " No ;" answered Geraldine, who, during this time, had taken one of his hands, and tried to discover whether any pulse re- mained, " he still breathes ; he may yet, perhaps, recover. There is a basket of re- freshments in one of the curricles ; if we •had it here, a little wine might revive him." - Ferdinand took the hint, and darted back into the lane, in pursuit of the servants and the basket. No one was provided with a smelling-bottle to hold to the poor wretch : but Geraldine, kneeling beside him, regard- less of his squalid and loathsome appear- ance, alternately chafed his temples and rubbed his hands ; and before my brother re-appeared, the languid sufferer half opened his fflazed and heavv eyes, and made an in- effectual effort to speak. The joy that shone 'upon the countenance of Geraldine, on witnessing these signs of re-anin^ation. 205 is not to be expressed. It redoubled her zeal and anxiety in his behalf; and when. Ferdinand brought the little basket of pro- visions, they mutually exerted themselves to make the famished negro swallow a few drops of the wine it so fortunately con- tained. I wish I could describe to you the vari^ ous expressions that appeared upon the countenances of the rest of the party, whilst standing in a circle round the charitable pair, watching this uncommon scene. Lord Litchmere, more than usually serious, con- templated the transaction with the sort of meditative attention with which, I can imagine, a philosopher would regard a phe- nomenon in nature. His sister. Lady Eli- zabeth, looked disgusted and supercilious 5 Colonel Courtville seemed good-naturedly concerned for the grievous state of the help- less stranger ; and Mrs. Neville, always en- thusiastic in her feehngs, gazed on Ge- raldine with a species of reverential admi- ration; watched all her movements with 906 approving delight; and when, at length, the party from the boat, guided by the sound of our voices entered the field, ran up to Madame de St. Hermine, exclaiming — ^' Oh, how touching a lesson of humanity have we been taught ! Come, dear madam, and behold, proudly behold, the child of your well-rewarded care, performing, with pious tenderness, the lowest offices of cha- rity and benevolence 1" Madame de St. Hermine, much surprised, hastily advanced, and reached her pupil, just in time to see the grateful negro, now a little revived, fix his dim eyes upon the fair creature to whose exertions he was in- debted for returning life, clasp his shrunk hands together, and burst into a passion of tears I ** Who is this poor distressed being ?'' inquired Mr. Archer, much struck by the apparent fervour of his sensibility. We told him all we knew upon the sub- ject ; and Geraldine rising, and approach- ing her uncle with an air of irresistible en- 207 treaty, besought him to give directions for having the poor man removed to some place where he might be sheltered and taken care of. " Certainly, my love : we will have him put into the boat, which will be the gen- tlest mode of conveyance, and carried to Highgrove Park. There are rooms over the stables, one of which he may occupy, till we see what is fittest to be done with him.'' Geraldine kissed her uncle's hand in token of acknowledgement. Then returning to her reviving charge, she listened and tried to imdei-stand the broken account which, in faint accents, and bad English, he was endeavouring to give of himself to Ferdi- nand. He came, he said, from one of the West India islands, with an English merchant and his family. When within sight of the British coast, a furious storm arose, and they were wrecked. After keeping himself afloat a considerable time, by dint of swim- ming, this poor creature had the good 208 fortune to catch hold of a plank, by which he held fast, till driven with great force against the shore. The waves followed, and threw him out to sea again ; and this happened repeatedly : but, at last, he made good his footing upon a ledge of rock, and there remained in security till the morning dawned. All traces of the vessel had by that time disappeared; no boat came in sight ; . he was destitute of provisions, and so situated, that he could neither, with any prospect of succeeding, attempt climbing higher up the rock, nor descend without meeting inevitable destruction in the ocean. Half dead with fatigue, cold, and hunger, he maintained his dreadful post a whole day and a second night. The following morning, impelled by famine and despair, he resolved upon making one vehement ef- fort to ascend the rock, aware that, if he failed or fell, he could only die, and die he must if he remained. After the most toil- some and perilous struggle, he finally ef- fected his purpose : but the summit of the plifT presented. nothing more consolatory to ^09 his view than an almost barren plain, a sort of down, on which a few sheep found a scanty pasturage. He walked slowly on, till evening overtook him, and then reached a wheat field, where he appeased the crav- ings of hunger with the grain supplied by a few ears of corn. He slept under the shelter of a hedge, and in the morning re- :sumed his weary way. At a cottage which he passed, he begged a little bread ; but those to whom he applied were children, who, frightened at his colour and haggard looks, ran away. Soon after, he went up to a farm-house, whence, however, he was driven by a fierce dog, who growled and barked so surlily, he ventured not to remain in his vicinity. Nearly spent with inani- tion and excessive lassitude, he walked on as long as his feeble remnant of strength would permit him, and at last fell down, quite exhausted, in the field where we found him^ and ^^ where," he added, looking at Geraldine and Lesmore, " good angels coiiio and help mc !'* This Story, related in worse English than 210 I could repeat it, bore an air of probability, and increased the interest already excited by its friendless hero. Exhausted, how- ever, by the effort of speaking so long, he seemed nearly fainting when he came to its conclusion. Fresh nourishment w^as ad- ministered to him; and, after some time, the plan of removing him to the house where his " good angels" lived, was com- municated to him. He humbly and thank- fully acquiesced. The servants were called, and we saw him gently conveyed to the water side, and placed upon some hay, pro- cured for the purpose, on the floor of the boat. Mr. Archer gave the necessary or- ders concerning him, and likewise directed -his carriage to be brought, as a substitute for the vehicle with which he was parting. As soon as we quitted the banks of the river, to begin our walk to the mansion of Lord B , Geraldine, taking her uncle's arm, outstripped the rest of the party, and left us at liberty to make what comments we pleased on the tranbactlon we had wit- nessed. Mrs. Neville was eloquent in her 211 praise, and regretted much that Madame de St. Hermine and Mrs. Everlev had missed the sight of such active and useful benefi- cence. '' Certainly what she did was very good," cried Lady Ehzabeth, ^' but still I would not have had her go so near him, or touch him with so little caution; for, really, a more filthy looking object I never beheld 1'* "The greater her merit!" cried Lord Litchmere. '' We had sent away the ser- vants ; the man appeared at the last gasp. Money in this case would have been of no avail ; nothing but immediate personal suc- cour could have saved him ; and such was the promptitude and unaffected zeal with which Miss Fauconberg administered it, that I think with you, Mrs. Neville, there never was a more affecting scene !'* This was spoken with an animation I should not have expected from Lord Litch- mere, and warmly assented to by Colonel Courtville, who added — ■ " The lively conversation, and gay coun- tenance of Miss Fauconberg, had not led 212 me to expect from her so much thought and feeling." '' I begin to be of opinion," cried Mrs. Neville, '' that there is no recipe for gaiety, real gaiety of heart, equal in eflicacy to the one with which nature and education have furnished her — a sincere, practical disdain of selfishness ! We see what she is capable of doin;]j in the cause of humanity ; how tenderly she sympathizes in the miseries of the lowest of her fellow- beings ; yet cheer- fulness seems to be the habitual disposition of her well-regulated mind. We think, when beholding her decked in smiles, and sparkling with animation, that no change in that blooming and ingenuous counte- nance could be to its advantage : see her but in generous sorrow for another's suffer- ings, and she must forcibly remind all wiio have ever read it, of that truly beautiful passage in one of Richardson's works, where, speaking of some favourite character, he says, '^ The features of her lovely face, and the turn of her fine eye, are cast for pity I " The expression is, indeed, singularly de- scriptive, and was thought by more than one of the party, admirably appropriate to our dear Geraldine : but Madame de St. Hermine, without seeking to undervalue her pupil's merit, besought Mrs. Neville to forbear such zealous encomiums in Miss Fauconberg's presence. ^^ I do not," she added, " fear her be- coming vain ; but praise so fervent will dis- tress her, and lead her to apprehend she was too public in her benevolence.'* " And would you, my dear madam, from the fear of observation, have her shrink from doing what she thinks right ?" '^ No, certainly ; but I would wish her friends not to remind her of the notice she has attracted. It might, on a future oc- casion, induce her to hesitate incurring it ; or give to her, while performing an act of duty, a conscious and painful sensation, too much allied to the apprehension of be- ing thought singular or ostentatious." " Ah, 'no 1 The general simplicity of her manners will exempt her from all such in- jurious imputations ! But I subscribe im- 214 plicitly to your recommendations of forbear- ance j since, for the world, I would not cause her one moment's uneasiness or em- barrassment.'^ We were by this time arrived in sight of the magnificent edifice to which our curi- osity had guided us. Mr. Archer and Ge- raldine were waiting for us beneath a noble portico, and proceeded with us through all the principal apartments. It was with this as with every great col- lection of pictures I have seen. To one good, there were ten moderate or unplcas- ing ones. Upon the whole, however, we were extremely gratified^ and after taking, on quitting the house, a hasty survey of the garden and pleasure grounds, we re- mounted, some their horses, and some their carriages, and went liome to a late dinner. The poor negro, wo liad the satisfjaction of hearins:, had arrived safely, a consider- able time before our return, and boon im- mediately put to bed. Proper nourishment had since been given to him, and he had fallen into a refreshing and tranquil sleep. I sin- 215 cerely hope this pitiable object of Gerald- ine's attentive care will recover and live, to reward and gladden her excellent heart. She is as anxious for his accommodation and good treatment as if he were a friend ; and, I doubt not, he will invariably meet with both ; for though the servants all think with disgust and aversion of a Black-a-77ioor, they all adore their young mistress, and will strive with each other who shall shovv^ him most kindness, for her sake. Ferdinand, in speaking of her to me, calls her " the good Samaritan." But what do you think the wi'etch says of Lady Elizabeth Neville ? *^ She is in a very secure and comfortable predicament. She can never be condemned in the next world — for she has no soul!'* Sept. 25. Our ball is over, my dear Augusta ; but in the account I have to give of it, I doubt not I shall make you as angry with I_^s- more as I am myself. Before I close this letter, however, I hope to obtain some pal- liating explanation of his extraordinary pra- 216 ceedings. . At present tliey are enveloped in mystery, and wear a most unfavourable aspect. Yesterday evening, about half an hour before the company began to assemble, Madame de St. Hermine, to whom Ge- raldine and I, when we were ready, went to show ourselves in our dancing dresses, observed that we each wanted, as a ^finish to our appearance, an elegant little nose- gay. " 1 saw to-day in the flower-garden,'* she added, " several china-rose trees in bloom ^ let one of the men go and gather what you want.'* " They are all so busy," cried Geraldine, " that we had better go ourselves : come, Julia, the moon will light us." Saying this, she took me by the arm, and we descended into the garden together, helped ourselves to the flowers, and then, finding the air keener than we expected, returned to the house by a shorter way, which led us close to the oflices. The door of the housekeeper's room was open as we passed it, and accidentally look- ^17 hig in, we perceived a young country-wo- man, in a bonnet, and cloak, sitting, near the table, and apparently crying. Gerald- kie observing that there was nobody else in the apartment, except a little boy, who seemed to belong to the stranger, stepped in to inquire what was the matter ? I fol- lowed her; and when the youthful female raised her head, immediately knew her to be the same pretty girl I had lately seen at church, and once before at the farm-house. She stood up as we approached her, and made an humble cotirtesy, " Are you waiting to speak to Mrs. Pres- cot?" said Geraldine, addressing her with great gentleness. ^^ No, ma'am, I have seen her already.'* *' I am afraid you are in spme dis- tress. Tell me, would you widi to see Mr, Archer?" Again the girl court'sied, and, with tears in her eyes, answered — " No, ma*am, thank you — I only desire to see — to speak three words with Mr. Les- more. Mrs. Prescot has been so good as VOL. I. L 218 to send up to tell him I am here, and per- haps he will condescend to come down a moment.'* As she uttered this last sentence, we heard the approaching step of my brother, ■>vho, before we could retreat, entered the room. He advanced hastily towards his suspi- cious visitor, saying, with an air of interest and concern, " Why, my poor Mary, what brinffs vou here at this late hour of the evenijip'?'' We waited not to hear Mary's reply, but directed our steps towards the part of the hou.se. inhabited by the family. I hardly knew what to say upon so odd an occurrence ; yet, not choosing to leave Geraldine to her own reflections, I at last made some common-place remark upon tlie o-irl's neat and modest appearance. *« Poor thing!" said Geraldine, " I fear she has got into some grievous difficulty !" jVIadame de St. Hermine at that moment joining us, wc changed the subject, put on our fl^wers^ and amiiaed ourselves with ^19 tonjecturrng who, amongst all those that were invited, was Hkely to arrive first.' In the midst of this edifying conversa- tion, Ferdinand, with a look of some dis- composure, appeared at the door, and, after a few moments* hesitation, stepped up to Geraldine : " I am under the very painful necessity. Miss Fauconberg,'* said he, " of denying myself the pleasure of spending the early part of this evening at home, and, conse- quently, of relinquishing the honour of dancing with you. May I, however, hope, you will make my excuses to Mr. Archer, and extend to me your own forgiveness ?" " And pray, Ferdinand," cried I, mxore angry than I ever felt with any body in my life, ^^ what is your motive for all this ?'* " I cannot be explicit at this moment : I am going upon an affair which requires the utmost dispatch, and have only time to re- peat my entreaties for Miss Fauconberg's indufgence, and to assure her that I never made a sacrifice which cost me more." Geraldine, with great sweetness, expressed S20 her concern at losing him ; most readily ac- corded the pardon he solicited, and ven- tured to promise him equal lenity from her uncle. ^' I rely much upon your friendly inter- cession," cried Ferdinand, *' and now, adieu. Miss Fauconberg; adieu, Madame de St. Hermine. As for you, Julia, I dare not speak to you till your wrath is a little appeased!" He then left the room, and left us all three looking at each other with silent amazement ! Madame de St. Hermine, who had most reason for surprise and conjec- turCj expressed a serious apprehension that he was going out to settle some unfortunate dispute. I hesitated whether to undeceive her, by revealing the secret of Mary's visit; but an unconquerable reluctance to speak upon so strange a circumstance withheld me : and Gerald ine seemed equally disin- clined to reveal what she knew. It was not very long, now, before a ft,*w stragglers began to arrive. I always pity the first comers at a great assembly : they S21 generally appear disconcerted themselves at being so early 3 and are very often ex- actly the sort of people the mistress of the house cares the least about: poor scared- looking souls, doubtful of their own wel- come, though invited, and unprovided with a word to say. Geraldine, however, has so much deli- cacy and feeling, that she fnids the means of putting these kind of folks at their, ease almost immediately. Her^ incomparable moni tress has not, I am sure, suffered her to overlook the excellent advice Madame de Sevigne gives upon nns huijjiruL. r/o you remember the passage my mother made us all extract, and talked so often of having engraved, over the drawing-room door? " Tlfaudroit de bonne lieure sappliquer a hienfaire les hgnneurs de sa maison ; il n\) d rien qui sled plus mal quhine froide insen- sihilite quand on est eJiez soi^^ * We should apply ourselves early to acquire the art of gracefully doing the honours of our house ; nothing is so unbecoming as a cold insensibility under our own roof. Acconliiigly there is, in the reception (jeraldine gives to cliilldeDt or awkward vi- sitors, an attention, a cheerful politeness^ that quite wins their hearts. She is glad, perlK4)s, when they, depart ; yet never be- tray s concern when iiney arrive : but looks. so easy, so contented, and yet so w holly abstain-s from assuming any odious airs of aflabilitv, that when I go home, I i\m de- termined to endccivour, in this respect to model my conduct upon hers. How glad my dear mother will be if I succeed ! and how agreeable a surprise shall I excite atuuiii^st, »i7iiic uf uui neigUliours at Parktoii Castle ! Mrs. Neville and her party arrived at a very reasonable hour ; and her appearance seemed to give the signal for animation and gaiety throughout the company. She w^as in excellent spirits ; and, to use her own w^ords, w^as in one of her good daijfi ; one of those humours which dispose her, now and then, to be in charity with the w^hole world. 2.23 She complimented Geraldine upon the good taste with which the rooms were orna- mented; and said, the fragrance of the flowers, as she entered the house, had ex- cited in her mind a thousand agreeable ideas; amongst others, that of Geraldine herself: " for," added she, " I have so often remarked your fondness for flowers. Miss Fauconberg, that neither the sight nor perfume of a fresh nosegay now ever reaches me, without presenting your image to ' my mind's eye.' '* • " A very elegant association," said Lord Litchmere. " And a very flattering one, I am sure,'^ cried Geraldine. " You are to know," resumed Mrs. Ne- ville, ** that I possess a happy knack of making these sort of mental combinations between persons and things. Sometimes^ indeed, the parties concerned might not think themselves much indebted to me for the facility with which I unite their recol- lection with the sight, taste, or scent of in- animate objects. But when this happens 224 to be the case, 1 do my best to conceal such httle amusing vagaries." She then inquired, with much kindness, after the poor Negro, and Avas extremely pleased to learn he was doing well, and had, in the course of the day, borne, without in- jury, the fatigue of sitting up several hours. *' I am glad, she cried, " this hap})y re- sult has attended your humane exertions, my dear Miss Fauconberg. I have been forbidden to express to you half the admi- ration with which your conduct inspired me : but this I zijill tell you, that it has left upon my heart so deep an impression, I shall never cease to honour and love you for it." Blushing and confused, Geraldine seemed by no means displeased that the approach of Sir James Charlebury and his daughter terminated this conversation. Mrs. Ne- ville immediately retreated from their vici- nity, declaring that the stock of Christian charity with which she came provided, however considerable, was by no means proof against the shock which the very sight 225 of those people gave to it. As they are not much more in favour with me, I hke- wise stole away, and attached myself to a party of which Mr. and Mrs. Everley were members. You will be surprised, perhaps, to find the name ,of Mr. Everleij mentioned in so gay a scene : certain it is, that for many hours he was a pleased spectator of all that was going forward. His coming was a compliment paid to Geraldine, which she accepted so graciously, that I verily believe he would even have danced, had she, with- the same smiling look, requested it. As the moment for standing up drew near, I began to feel considerably embar- rassed how to announce to Mr. Archer the sudden eclipse of my brother. The un- pleasant task, however, was unavoidable ; and, with all the qualifying varnish I could throw over it, I told the awkward, truth : that is, I gave information of his absence, and spoke pathetically of the regret with which he departed^ ^ but very carefully L5 avoided mentioning the fair tempter wha had seduced him to the deed. Yeti notwithstanding the pains I took to soften the inteIHgence, I couhl perceive tliat it affected Mr. Archer in a very un- pleasant manner. Ohvious as was his dis- pleasure, however, it exceeded not the cha- grin and disappointment hetrayed by ^Irs, Neville. She asked Madame de St. Iler- mine (unwilling, perhaps, to apply to me) a thousand questions concerning Lesmore ; and obtaining no satisfactory intelligence, appeared from that moment to lose all in- terest in Vvhat was passing around her; re- solutely declined engaging herself to dance; and, after sitting some time at a window apart, followed two or three elderly ladies into an adjoining room, where a few, yet unoccupied, card-tables had been placed. A revolution so sudden, and so ill con- cealed, could not easily escape the obser- vation of Geraldine, who looked after her with an air of regret and concern. She had no leisure, however, to reflect long upon the subject; for Lord Litchmere, informed of my brother's absence, came to request the honour of her hand for the first two, instead of the second tvvo dances. She rea- dily gave it; but not with equal' readiness could she be prevailed upon to open the ball. After a short and civil contest be- tween her and Lady Elizabeth Neville, the latter consented to call the tirst dance. As the adjustment of this point of eti- quette, and various otherdelays,. had retard- ed the commencement of the ball to a con- siderably later hour than I had expected, I was now in momentary hope of seeing Ferdinand return. My eyes were perpe- tually directed towards the door; and, even when conversing with rriy partner. Colonel Courtville, I could not forbear turning half round whenever any gentleman passed near me. At length, the Colonel, sensible of the little attention I paid to all the fnie things he was saying to me, asked, with d smile, whose arrival I was so anxiously looking for? This question rendered me more circumspect ; I evaded answering it ^ 228 but struggled to appear less prc-occupred and restless. The dance ended; and another, which, %vith scarcely any interval, succeeded it, concluded also : but still no Lesmore ap- peared. Provoked nearly as much as Mrs. Neville, I could willingly have joined in a little sullen duet with her; but I was not permitted: a third dance was called, and my new partner, Lord I.itchmere, was in a humour so unusually talkative, that \ could not disengage myself from him a moment. The theme of his conversation ought to have pleased me, since it was no other than the graces and perfections of Miss Fauconberg : but I am not liberal- minded enough to derive much pleasure from hearing her warmly praised by any young man except my brother. You will smile, Augusta, and suspect, perhaps, that I wish to engross the admiration of all others to myself: if such is your opinion of me, I will not attempt to refute it; but only sa}'-, that Lord Litchmere is one of the last whom I sliould listen to with satisfac- 229 tion upon this subject, from the persuasion I lie under, that his are not merely empty eulogiums, but that he seriously and pas- sionately admires Geraldine, and may be^ come, to our poor Ferdinand, a very for- midable rival. Though grave at first, and somewhat cold and distant^ he improves extremely upon acquaintance. In his countenance and appearance there is no- thing striking; but he looks observant; his conversation denotes good sense and good nature ; and his manners convey the id^a of his being a thorough gentleman. Such a man, could I, without sorrow, resign the prospect of obtaining such a sister, I should most gladly see united to my loved Gerald- ine : but, as long as a spark of hope re- mains of her one day becoming the wife of Ferdinand, I shall never witness the atten- tions of Loj;d Litchmere without pain ! Whil^ I was going down the dance with him, Geraldine found an opportunity to say— '' Mr. Lesmore is come back, Julia." — " Is he ? — How did you hear it ?'* 230 " Mr. Everley saw him just now in the card- room." This answer gave me a pang at heart * and during the remainder of the dance, I could do nothing but picture to myself the ^snuo: httle flirtation which I concluded wa^ passing between ^Irs. Neville and my bro- ther. . ^ly partner speedily discovered an alte- ration in mv voice and looks. " Are you fatigued, ^liss Lesmore ?" said he. "No, my lord, not with dancing; but my o^vn thoughts have fatigued me the greatest part of the evenmg." " I wish there subsisted more conformity of sentiment between us;" resumed he — " My thoughts never were half so agreeably occupied as they have been during the last two hours !" Then pausing a moment, he presently added — " Will it be permitted here to dance tv/ice with the same partner?" " Indee 231 Scarcely had I uttered these words, when^ as Geraldine followed us down the dance, I heard him to say to her, " Have you a long list of engagements for the rest of the evening. Miss Faucon- berg?" " No, my lord; only for the next two dances." He could say no more just then; but seizing eagei^y the next opportunity of speaking to her, he obtained from her a- promise that she w^ould stand up with him again after supper. My ill-humour was wrought up to its full climax by this arrangement, which threat- ened completely to exclude Lesmore from all chance of recovering his once-Yorfeited partner, aixl I scarcely could prevail upon myself to speak another word whilst the dance lasted. But Lord Litchmere was too happy to regaixl my taciturnity. His eyes followed Geraldine in every direction; not a step, not a movement of hers escaped him : and an expression of unsuppressed delight l>rightened his countenance whenever the iigure of the dance brought them together. Meanwhile Colonel Courtville, who had succeeded him as the partner of the fair lady of his affection, was doing the best he could, by flattery and insinuation, to win her to liimself. He looked ' unutterable things;' now smiled, now languished ; and performed to perfection the character of an enamoured and dying swain. All this I beheld with the most complete indiil'erence: he cannot, I am well assured, be the kind of man Geraldine would ever approve : but judge my surprise,.when, on casting a glance towards the card-room door, I at length be- held Ferdinand, leaning against its side, looking earnestly and gravely at Geraldine, and scarcely appearing to hear, or to know how he ajiswered, the lively observations addressed to him, from time to time, by Mrs. Neville, who stood beside him. I per- suaded myself he was jealous of the colonel, and the suspicion made me ample amends for all the vexation 1 had endured through- 233 out the evening ! — But, jealous of the vapid Colonel Courtville ! — Is sucli an infatuation to be pardoned ? When we were returning to our seats, I saw Lesmore approach Geraldine, whom he detained several minutes in conversation. She looked at him as serenely, and answered him as cheerfully,, as if she had every reason in the world to be satisfied with his conduct. Not equally placid did he appear, when, their little dialogue ended, she proceeded to a vacant chair next mine. I was curious to know what had passed, and she readijy informed me. " Your brother wished me to dance with him; and when I acquainted him with my two present engagements, seemed to think that by the time they were over, the com- pany would be dispersing." " And was he pleased to murmvu' ?" ^^ No; but he* professed great concern : and, as in gratitude bound, I returned the qompliment, and declared myself equally chagrined.'* This li;ght manner of speaking of wliat 234 was, perhaps, to him a serious disappoint- ment, would not have been very gratifying to poor Ferdinand's vanity: but Geraldine seems not to have a suspieion that he has, in any thing which relates to her, the small- est degree of feeling. Soon after, we were joined by Air. Archer. "Well," said he, addressing me, "your brother has been making a thousand apolo- gies for so suddenly absconding, and pro- mises to clear up the whole mystery to us to-morrow. A long stoiy is connected with it, which there is now no opportunity of relating." Then, turning to Geraldine — " It is past one o'clock," said he, " and we shall pre- sently go to supper. Who do you dance with, my dear, afterwards?" " With Mr. Charlebury, and Lord Litch- mere." " Lord Litchmere ? Why, he has been your partner already." " It is very true, my dear uncle; but he asked me again, and I did not know upon what plea to refuse him." ^35 Mr. Archer said no more; but I thought he looked good-naturedly vexed that Ferdi- nand was thus deprived of the prospect of obtaining her hand. In our way to the supper-room, I saw% peeping through a glass door that opened into the hall, Geraldine's protege, the poor -Negro, creditably equipped m a livery-suit lent him by one of the servants ; and watch- ing the ladies as they passed, with the most eager attention. When Geraldine, without observing him, di-ew near his hiding place, hij5 t^uuiiienance kindled up into an expres- sion of joy amounting almost to rapture! The lamp which depended from the cieling of the hall, cast a strong light upon his large uplifted eyes; and his lips moved, as ijf invoking blessings vipon the head of his lovely preserver. I was sensibly touched by this quiet testimony of heartfelt gi^ati-^ tude, and, waiting till every body had pass- ed me, approached the window behind which he was stationed. On perceiving me advance, he was hastily retiring: but nod- ding to encourage him, I half opened the rj6 door, and inquiring after his health, ex- pressed some concern to see him yp at so late an hour. " No hurt me> lady," said he, " to come and look at good angel. Hear the music all the evening, and begged so hard just for one peep, they lend me clothes, and j)ut me in this passage." " You knew your kind friend again, di- rectly, I saw." " Know her !— Ah lady 1 Cassar never speak, never think, never dream of any thing but good angel, ever since she save his life ! " The tears glistened in the honest crea- ture's eyes whilst he spoke, and I felt my own beginning to start. " Good night, Caesar," cried I. — '' If you like to stay here a little longer, I will send you a glass of wine." " No, thank you, lady; — good night.'* He then withdrew, and I repaired to the gay party in the supper room." I found an unoccupied seat near Afr: Archer, and while every body was talking; round us, related ta him, without bemg overheard, the little dialogue in which I had just been engaged. . • " Poor fellow!" cried my benevolent auditor, , " he shows a wonderfully grateful disposition. I must try and put him in seme way of obtaining an honest main- tenance. Is he young or old ? What does he seem fit for r " " I had not a very distinct vi^w of him in that obscure passage; but I think he looked young." Mr. Archer then said he would have a little conversation with him the next day , and if any scheme could be suggested to his advantage, he should be anxious to pro- mote it, were it only to gratify his compas- sionate Geraldine. Mrs. Neville, during supper, I observed, entirely recovered her good-humour; and withadnairable address divided her attention between her two neighbours. Col. Court- ville, and my brother; that is to say, she accepted the ever-ready homage of the S3S former; whilst, with more seriousness, she condescended to com^t the attention of Fer- dinand. Lord Litchmere, meanwhile, had the good fortune of engrossing, • almost ex- clusively, the conversation of our fair friend, and looked the happiest of men. At whose suggestion "I know not, for amidst the hum of so many voices, it is dif- ficult to distinguish one speaker from ano- ther, but, at the very moment I thought we were going to rise from table, Tvlr. and Miss Charlebury, and a lady who sat near them, suddenly burst forth into a loud glee. This was succeeded by another, and that by a third; and perhaps the good people might have been singing now, had not Mr. Archer civilly, but frankly interfered. — '^ Ladies and gentlemen," cried he, "if any of you are so tasteless as to prefer dancing to singing, I advise you to return into the ball-room, and make the best of your time. As for Sir James and myself, and a few more who have less activity in ow legs tlian ' musi-c in our souls,' we will 339 stay and listen to these delightful harmo- nists as long as they have a note to bestow upon us." There was an almost universal rising up, on hearing vvords so friendly, I believe, to the general wish : the crowd and pressure at the door of the supper-room was truly ri- diculous. As if instigated by one- spirit, they all seemed eager to avoid, what some amongst them, perhaps would with less fa- stidious companions, have anxiously sought to obtain. But so it is, I have often heard it remarked, in all ranks of life; people fly to or from an amusement accordmg as they behold the majority .press forward or retreat : the greater the bustle and the rush, the greater, of course, must be the triumph of escaping from what is bad, or gaining access to what is good. The various exclamations of the young ladies when we reached the hall, were equally entertaining — '' Dear, I am so glad to have got away !" cried one. " And I was. so horridly tired!'* cried another. " And I do so hate glees!" added a third. " And^ 240 do you know," said a fourth, stepping eagerly forward — " Miss Charlebury wants to propose French country-dances; I am sure, I hope she'll not be able to make up a set. They are the most tiresome things in the world to arrange ; and unless the dancing- master is standing by, always go wrong." Thus they went on, till Mrs. Everley, grow- ing tired of attending to them, took me by the arm, and led me away. When deprived of so large a proportion of their auditors. Miss Charlebury and her brother declined singing any more; and in a short time the latter came to claim the hand of his proriaised partner. I stood up with an officer whom Colonel Courtville in- troduced to me; and he himself, with con- siderable difficulty, prevailed upon Mrs. Ne- ville to go down one dance with him. Les* more, 1 believe, wished to have remained an inactive spectator of what was passing; but a motive of good nature, induced him to change his purpose. Amongst the company present was a Mrs. Fairfax, a lady reduced by some fa- 241 mily misfortunes from a state of the highest affluence, into one of comparative indi- gence. Her daughter was with her, an only child, and a girl of the most pleasing and interesting appearance. Yet, how it happened I do not know, but this poor thing had never been asked to dance the whole evening. Geraldine had in vain ex- erted herself to procure her a partner; the gentlemen all pleaded prior engagements; and, deserted, diffident, and almost dejected, poor Emily Fairfax still kept her post beside her mother, an unnoticed looker-on at the gaiety in which she was not invited to partake. Neither Geraldine nor I, could, after supper, continue to witness such cruel neg- lect without concern, and almost indigna- tion. Scarcely a disengaged man, except Ferdinand, remained in the room. '' Do you think, Julia,'* said Geraldine, looking wishfully towards him — " your bro- ther would dance with her?** " Try your influence over him;" an- swered I — " he owes you some compensa- VOL. I. M 242 tion for his abominable conduct this even- ing, and can do no less than comply with so reasonable a request." Geraldine begged Mr. Charlebury, her partner, to tell my brother she wished to speak with him; and when he came, after apologizing for sending to him, she said — " Your sister and I, Mr. Lesmore, think, that in applying to you to perform an act at once of gallantrj^ and good nature, we are secure of success. Have we," added she, " trusted to a broken reed?" " I hope not. What is it you wish me to do?" " We should both be delighted if you would allow Madame de St. Hermine to introduce you to the yomig lady sitting near the door, and take her out to dance. She scarcely knows any body present, and has not yet stood up." " I will do this," replied Lesmore, with alacrity — " or any thing else Miss Faucon- berg deigns to request, with the utmost pleasure. She never harbours a wish that 243 is not founded on some kind and conside- rate motive.** He then went in search of Madame de St. Hermine, who gladly consented to per- form the part of mistress of the ceremonies, and presented him to Miss Fairfax in due form. Distant as we were from them, we could yet discern evident symptoms of sur- prise and pleasure in the faces of both mo- ther and daughter. The latter, whose pretty little ball dress had long been vainly pinned up, gave Ferdinand her hand with a modest blush, and accompanied him towards the dancers. Geraldine and I were standing together ; and fearful that she would find no place but at the bottom of the set, we made signs to Lesmore to bring her up to us. He complied; and we found room for her between us; did all in our power to dis- sipate the sort of embarrassment she seemed, at first, to feel ; and had the pleasure to ob- serve, that before the dance was half over> §he recovered her spirits, and appeared to forget all the mortifications of the ervenijig. 244 I am persuaded many young men are so weak as always to stand aloof from action, even in the most trifling affairs, till some one encourages them, by example, to per- form what is right. Hitherto, by the lead- ing beaux in the room, poor Emily had been overlooked; but as soon as she was seen dancing with Lesmore, and courted by Miss Fauconberg, she gained notice from every body else ; was admired for her pretty figure; thought an excellent dancer; and engaged for the two next sets, even before Ferdinand relinquished her hand. As Lord Litchmere, proud of his prize, was leading Geraldine up the room for the second time, my brother for a moment de- tained her — " Should there be any more dancing after this. Miss Fauconberg, may I hope you will keep yourself disengaged for me?'* *' With great pleasure" — answered she. Highly gratified by this answer, he bow- ed, and suffered her to proceed : whilst I, anxious that his ready civility to Miss Fair- fax should not pass unrewarded, went to 245 make interest in his favour with Mr. Archer. " Well, well," cried he, good humour- edly, '^ we will see what can be done for this perverse fellow. But really it grows very late, and half the folks are wanting to get home. Why did he not stay and dance with her when he might?" " You say, yourself, dear sir, that we are to hear all his reasons for that to-morrow. Meanwhile, have the generosity to exert yourself a little for him to-night." He promised to do all in his power; and having myself declined dancing anymore — the gentleman who asked me was Mr. Char- lebury — I took a chair for the rest of the evening next to Madame de St. Hermine. W^e were both full of conjectures as to the yet unexplained cause of Lesmore's tardy appearance in the ball room. Ever ready to plead for him, Madame de St. Hermine professed a strong belief that his motive for disappearing was such as, when known, would redound to his credit; and soothed by prognostics so agreeable, I listened till 246 the remembrance of Mary almost vanished from mv mind. The anxious wish Ferdinand had evinced of dancing with his once rejected partner, was at length gratified. Though it was now near five o'clock, and nearly half the company had departed, those who remained were sufficiently numerous to make up a very tolerable set. Mr. Archer himself, urging them once more to stand up, a sprightly air was called, and the two per- sons for wdiom I was so much interested, led off this last dance with a spirit and ani- mation, that brightened the fine counte- nance of Madame de St. Hermine with smiles; enchanted Mr. Archer; and gave a glow to my own heart such as only in its happiest moments it has ever known. Thus ended this long-talked-of ball; the conclusion of which fully repaid me for the chagrin I had endured at its commence- ment. To Geraldine, I believe, the even- ing proved uninterruptedly agreeable. Mrs. Neville, like myself, found it chequered with good and bad — and the rest of the com- 247 • paiiy retired apparently extremely well sa- tisfied. Two or three families, residing at a con- siderable distance from hence, had been in- vited to take beds here, and accepted the offer. AVe therefore sat down to breakfast ^ this morning a very large party ; and had no conversation but upon matter-of-fact subjects. When these guests departed, the two gentlemen rode out, and to us the his- tory of Mary is as great a mystery as ever. , I must here close this enonnous letter: but rest assured you shall not be suffered to remain in ignorance of the explanation we are promised. Adieu, my two dear sisters;^ you perceive I take it for granted Caroline claims the privilege of seeing every letter I write from hence. Adieu again ! Yours ever, Julia Lesmore, J248 LETTER XVII. MISS LESMORE TO THE SAME. Sept. 2(5. Without comment or preface, I now sit down to give you, in Lesmore's own words, the history of the origin and progress of his acquaintance with poor Mary. No alkision was made to the subject, till, tea being over yesterday evening, the shut- ters closed, the curtains drawn, and our se- veral apparatus of employment spread out upon the table before us, Mr. Archer thus opened the cause — " Whilst you, ladies, were sitting at home this morning to recover from the fatigues of your nocturnal revels, I was listening to a little history wWch I must now request the kind narrator will not think me too en- croaching if I solicit him to repeat: I would save him this trouble; but a man 249 relates a story but awkwardly in the pre- sence of the person from whom he heard it." Madame de St. Hermine besought my brother to comply with this request; Ge- raldine kept her eyes fixed upon one of the scenes of a little theatre she is painting for Charles Davenant, and was perfectly silent; I looked, I doubt not, extremely curious, but likewise forbore speaking, and tried to go on very attentively with the work-box I was ornamenting for my mother. Lesmore had by far the most awkward part to per- form, being unprepared with any better em- ployment, than that of snipping, with Ma- dame de St. Hermine's scissars, every bit of thread or paper which lay in his way ! Even this humble resource, the ov/ner of the mis- chievous little weapon, had the cruelty to deprive him of two or three times; and then he had nothing for it, but to play with Mr. Archer's spectacle-case; for aware that that gentleman had excited general expectation from him, he was nearly as much em- M 5 250 barrassed as Geraldme herself used formerly to be in his awful presence ! At length — '' I could not," said he, '' thus formidably called upon, consent to under- take a relation which compels me to make self so prominent a personage, if my conduct towards Miss Fauconberg, last night, did not demand from me every explanation in my "power to give. About three weeks ago,'* continued he, gaining more courage, " during one of my solitary shooting ex- cursions, I was surprised, whilst at some distance from home, by a sudden thunder- shower. In order to seek shelter, I turned out of my road, and went up to a farm- house, which, however, I almost hesitated whether to enter, when, on a nearer ap- proach, the only person I beheld within was a young woman, reading a letter at the window, and crying over it with every ap- pearance of sorrow and distress. I observed her for some minutes without being myself perceived : but the shower becoming heavier, and no other house being in sight, I at length Q,5h ventured to solicit a temporary refuge. At the sound of my voice, she started -, and her- first care was to thrust the letter she held into her pocket; but then, dispersing her tears, she civilly told me I was welcome to come in; brought me a chair; and even offered the protection of her roof to Mr. Archer's game-keeper who attended me. He declined it, however; but found shelter under the porch ; and the girl after acquit- ting herself of these rites of hospitality, sat down to her spinning-wheel, without taking of me any further notice. *' The shower was of considerable dura- tion, and whilst I sauntered about, examining the homely decorations of the apartment, and looking into the few well-thumbed books deposited upon a shelf behind the door, I overheard, from time to time, many a deep- drawn sigh proceed from the bosom of my young hostess. " Much concerned for her, I could not long forbear hazarding some mdirect in- quiries into the cause of her affliction. Stopping near- her spinning-wheel;, after 252 having made the tour of the room, I asked her to whom the farm helonged ? " To my father, sir; Farmer Chad worth.' ^ " And do you keep house for him?" " Yes, sir; for I have no mother, and my sisters are quite children." " You are so useful a person at home, then," I added, laughing, " that your fa- ther will be unwilling to part with you ; and yet, there must be many a man anxious to have so pretty a wife." A faint blush crossed her cheek; and, sighing again, she answered — " Not many, sir, I dare say." " Well, but if there be only a few, only one, he has little chance of obtaining you till your sisters grow up." '' Ah ! " cried she, not aware of the infe- rence to which she led — '' it is not on account of wanting me at home my father refuses." — " There she stopped — looked distressed at her own unguardedness, and the tears once more stole down her cheeks. I affected 253 not to observe her agitation, and continuing in the same tone of raillery said — '' Fathers are often sad torments to poor girls who have lovers : but if the house is frequently left, as to day, in your sole care, you must have so many opportunities of seeing yours, that you may bear, better than many others, any delay required of you." '' Delay!" she repeated, shaking her head — '' Ah, that's not all !" " In short," added Ferdinand, " the in- nocent girl betrayed herself so uncon- sciously, that with scarcely any farther trouble, I became acquainted with all her little history." Here let me ask you, Augusta, should you have thought our brother, taciturn and grave as he usually is with strangers, could so speedily and so dexterously have pene- trated into the secrets of a female heart? Madame de St. Hermine looked very arch whilst he repeated this short dialogue, and Geraldine seemed listening with the pro- foundest attention. " It seems," proceeded Lesmore, *^ that 254 this poor young woman had, for near a. twelvemonth, been permitted by her father, thougli with some reluctance, on account of the youth of his other children, to en- courage the addresses of the son of a n^eigh- bouring farmer, in circumstances nearly si- milar to his own. The young people were willing to defer the marriage a year or two longer, provided they might be allowed oc- casionally to meet at each other's houses j and the fathers, satisfied with their patience and docility, gave them every reason to believe their future union decided upon. About a month, however, before the time I am speaking of, the two farmers had a furious quarrel, and old Chadvvorth re- turning home, one day, trembling with passion, threatened Mary with his maledic- tion if she ever admitted within his doors, ©r spoke again to the son of his detested neighbour. The terrified girl, ventured not, at that moment, to contest this arbitrary command : but when time had, she hoped, a little assuaged his resentment, she pleaded with all the eloquence in her power for her- 9,55 self and her unoffending lover. Chadworth was inflexible; he spoke not with the same violence as before; but his prohibition was equally peremptory, and yet more stern. Day after day, week after week elapsed, and Mary, dreading the execution of her father^s menace, secluded herself so sedu- lously, to avoid all chance of encountering young William, that he, having received orders equally rigorous not to visit her, had recourse to his pen, and wrote the very letter I had seen her so fondly weeping over. After intrusting me with these par- ticulars of her situation, the artless girl made no difficulty of putting into my hands a treasure she so highly valued. 1 read it with surprise; though worded with the ut- most simplicity, there was nothing coarsely rustic in it; the writing, though not free, ' was clear and plain, and the spirit of affec- tion by which it seemed dictated, breathed an air of genuine and manly fervour. I restored to her the letter with many enco- miums upon its writer's heart; promised, as I was to remain some time m the neigh- Qo6 bourhood, to get acquainted with the young man, and, if possible, to devise, in concert with him, some means of reconcihng the two farmers. Mary weis considerably re- vived and comforted by these assurances; and our conversation being soon after in- terrupted by the tumultuous arrival from school of a tribe of little rosy brothers and sisters, I took my leave of her, uttering a thou^^an(l thanks for the hospitable recep- tion she had given me. as to the island thej- came from, and the port to which they were steering. It seems, he Avas what, I believe, is called a house slaves and was coming over here in quality of footman to his de- !?ea,sed master. I have offered him, for the S73 present, a post somewhat menial, under the butler: but if he conducts himself to my satisfaction in t a s ation, after a time I mean to raise him to the high honour of being Geraldine's own lacquey. Do you approve this ar angement, ladies ? " We all gave to it the most cordial sane- - tion, and having duly discussed the subject^ Geraldine was again called upon to take her place at the instrument. Now, my two dear sisters, may I not indulge myself in lavishing praises upon our active, kind, and generous brother ? Is not this a narrative to do him honour in the eyes of Geraldine ? Is it not, as Madame de St. Hermine observed to me, the noblest and most touching way of courting a feel- ing heart ? I am sure my mother would be delighted by the relation ; I write to her often : but the detail I have given you is too long to be transcribed. I must intrust to you, therefore, the care of transmitting it to her. Adieu, my dear sisters. Julia Lesmore. n5 274 LETTER XVIII. MISS LESSMORE TO THE SAME. Sept. 29. Yesterday morning, whilst Madame de St. Hermine, Geraldine, and I were sitting in the dressing-room, a note was dehvered to the former from Aliss Charlebury, re- questing the direction, and all particulars as to terms and method of teaching, of some master who had been employed for Ge- raldine, and whom Madame de St. Hermine had once accidentally mentioned in Miss Charlebury's presence. We could not listen to the characteristic tenour of this billet without a little disposi- tion to simper -, and, as the master in ques- tion (a very irascible and petulant person- age) had only attended Geraldine whilst in town, represented to ourselves the conster- nation and disgust of the poor man, when, on hisan'ival from such a distance, he found himself condemned, for a month, perhaps. 275 to listen to the pompous harangues of Sir James, and endure patiently the self-suffi- ciency of his daughter. " All these witty conjectures," said Ma- dame de St. Hermine, unable wholly to repress her own smiles, " may be very amusing to you, young ladies ; but they by no means assist me in devising a pretty, civil note to my accomplished correspond- ent. I wish one of you would answer it," We both begged to be excused : but Ge- raldine, to render the task as easy to her as she could, brought her ow n writing-box, and placed it before her ; supplied her with a packet of fresh pens ; promised to give hqr no disturbance ; and undertook to get the taper lighted, ready to seal the note as soon as it should be concluded. This, when once it was begun, speedily happened ; and Ma- dame de St. Hemline, as much rejoiced as a child who has finished its task, was returninsr to the occupation she had previously been pursuing, v/hen, on closing the writing-box, an inner lid flew open, and several loose papjers fell upon the table. 276 " Here are verses ! '* cried she, collecting them together y '^ are they your own, Ge- raldine ?" ** O, pray put them up !*' cried Gerald- ine, with some earnestness; '' they are no- thing, mere nonsense : pray do not look at them!" *^ Certainly, without your permission, I would not for the world : but what nonsense can my Geraldine write which she fears to commit to the eye of her friend ? I have never been severe upon your former at- tempts ; and, I own, it would give me pain to think you now meant to withhold your confidence." " Now, nor ever do I mean it I " cried the affectionate Geraldine, rising with emotion, and embracing Madame de St. Heniiine, ** take them, dearest madam, read them all : I have not, I liope, a thought which I would seriously wish to conceal from you. My only reason for requesting your for- bearance on this occasion, was the fear of being accused, in one of these little pieces, of having given way to something like a 277 spirit of ill-nature against your favourite, Mr. Lesmore.'* « Against Ferdinand I " cried I ; " O, my dear Geraldine, how has he^ of late, deserv- ed it?" She smiled at the promptitude with which, *^ jealous in honour," I was prepared to take alarm in my brother's cause. " Do not imagine me very rancorous,*' said she; " read these lines, and acquit me, at least of all bitterness of recrimination." She then put into our hands, and Madame de St. Hermine and I perused together, the following stanzas : — A youth, not moulded of our common clay. But proudly conscious of superior worth. Cast, on an humble maid, a dazzling ray From eyes that called her mantling blushes fortli. She saw disdain enthroned upon his brow. And turnM aside to hide the starting tear Which anger, more than sorrow, taught to flow — A guest unbidden, struggling to appear. Much to his praise affection's voice had breath'd With partial zeal in her attentive ear ; She wishMtolovehim — wishMhis name enwreath'd 'Mongst those of kindred friends long held most dear S73 But, ah ! how soon these air-ljailt hopes disperS^d^ Nor left a vestige of tfieir " wreck behind !" One sigh she gave — then, all her plans reversed, Call'd on chill apathy the wound to bind. The wounds ofprlde heal quick — unlike the grief Which lacerates and consumes an aching heart T The anger of the humble maid was brief— The youth within her bosom left no dart. But how inscrutable^s the human mind ! The veil withdrawn, dismissM the stern disguise. Behold a wonder ! In his breast enshrin'd. Beats a kind heart — disprover of his eyes ! These lines are not without their due portion of severity, it must be allowed; yet the aigre-doux compliment in the con- cluding stanza, the affected amazement on discovering that he really possessed some feeling, drew from me a smile in despite of myself ISIadame de St. Hennine laughed heartily, and seemed the more amused from observing the sort of constraint, the little air of pique with which I endeavoured to purse up my mouth after reading them. " Tlie verses," said she, stretching forth her hand to their pretty author, " are very pardonable sort of verses; you have had, in 279 time past, ample provocation for them : and, if you promise never to write any thing again of the same sarcastic nature against my fa- vourite, as you justly call him, I will not only absolve you from this present sin, but defend you valiantly against all accusers* Come, Julia, be placable, and acknow- ledge, what lam sure your brother himself would not scruple to confess, that he has fairly merited this little epigrammatic bor dinagey The speaking eyes of Geraldine seemed begging forgiveness; so that, in pledge of peace, I graciously extended my hand, saying— " And when was this saucy composition penned V* '^ The last stanza was written during the first leisure moment I had after hearing the story of William and Mary; I can scarcely tell when the preceding ones were com- posed." " Then you have really been residing under the same roof with poor Ferdinand full six weeks, and considering him the whole time as a being stern, proudi and disdainful P '[ 280 a All poets, wliether good or bad/* an- swered she, laughing, " are privileged, you know, to employ some degree of exagge- ration.*' She then rose up,.and invited me to walk out with her: but; I declined it, washing to look at the remaining verses which she very readily permitted me to read. Madame de St. Hermine, however,. chose to accompany her, and I was left to follow my own hu-^ mour. I had been alone about a quarter of an. hour, and was still examining with great in- terest and pleasure the detached produc- tions with which. Geraldine had intrusted me, when, as I beUeved, almost for the first time since his arrival here, Ferdinand en- tered the room — "Julia," said he, " I am writing to my mother V have you any message to send her?" Then advancing towards the table, and casting his eyes upon the papers scattered over it — "Are you turned poet?'* de- manded he, smiling — " Are these manu- scripts yours?'* 281 •^ They are not, indeed ; I never, though, to confess the truth, I have often tried, could hammer out a couplet in my life." *^ Then whose are these verses?'* I laughed and said — *' O never mind: they are not intended for your perusal ; so bring me the letter you are vi^riting to Park ton Castle, and I will insert in it a few lines.'* He hesitated whether to follow my coun- sel, and looked so curious, that he increased iny risibility; and 1 could not forbear add- ing — " You had better go, as they say to children, lohile you are well ; for I have a little philippic here which it would not much gratify your vanity to see.** His urgency for an explanation now be- came almost irresistible; I evaded his in- quiries, and withstood his supplications as long as I could, but at last, quite over- powered by their importunity, I confessed what he already, I doubt not, suspected, that Geraldine was the poet — and finally, put into his hands the stanzas of which he ,is the subject. '2i^% f» lie seized them with an avidity, and read them with an eagerness, which, from Fer- diimnd, generally so calm and quiet, equally surprised and amused me. At the be- ginning, a smile played about his nioutii, and he looked perfectly unembarrassed : but as he proceeded, a deep glow overspread his cheeks — and he concluded them with an air of thorough mortification. O Julia!" cried he, putting them down, and seating himself next me, " how my heart reproaches me for having given occa- sion to such lines ! She wished to love me ! And have I been so cruelly my own enemy as to repel a wish I would now give worlds to realize! You look surprised," added he, putting his arm round me — '^ Ah, dear girl, is it then possible you can still be in doubt as to the nature of my sentiments? Is it possible you can really be ignorant that I love Miss Fauconberg'? — Love her with the fondest and most devoted pas- * ^91 sion r The full sincerity of this declaration, so sudden, and so unexpected, bereft me, for 2%3 a few moments, of all power to answer him. Joy, approbation, mingled with an im- delinable sensation of inquietude as to the future fate of his attachment, combated for pre-eminence in my mind. When able to speak, I pressed his hand, saying — " You deserve every thing, my dear Fer- dinand ! May you be happy ! '* " But tell me/' resumed he, anxiously seeking to read my countenance — " tell me, dear Julia, have I destroyed my own prospects for ever ? You know the heart of Geraldincj what are its present feelings to- wards me ? ** " Perhajjs,'* said I, " she scarcely knows herself. Though she had talked of you much before you came, soon after, she en- tirely ceased to mention you. Madame de St. Hermine and I, though almost equally your friends, avoid leading officiously to the subject, and therefore both remain in doubt as to the actual state of her mind. Yet, we may reasonably flatter ourselves she thinks of you sometimes, or she never could have wTitten those verses." 284 " Do not mention them, Julia! They fill me with shame and sorrow! '* Then gazinp* around him as he sat — " Every object in this room," he added, " speaks eloquently of its lovely mistress. Here, in unobtrusive retirement, she cultivates those talents, which, superior as they are,, she displays only for the gratification of others, never for the indulgence of her own vanity. Here, as I have often passed the door, without daring to enter, 1 ha\c heard her sometimes singing, at others reading to you aloud > and the accents of that sweet voice, dearer to me every day, have riveted me to the spot, till I have incurred the danger of be- ing surprised. Here — shall I confess, it to you, Julia? I have come, Vvhen you have all been wandering in the park, and, undis- turbed, indulged myself in the contempla- tion of the several objects that have eni- pioyed her morning hours: the picture she has been painting, the book she has been reading, the very music, which, still open upon the desk, I concluded she had been practising, I have spent many delicious 285 moments in these stolen scrutinies; read every favourite passage she has marked; followed, from day to day, the progress of her pursuits — and felt happy whilst breathing the same air she had breathed — looking at the same elegant production she had been surveying/' " You are, indeed, a lover, my dear Fer- dinand ! — even a romantic one ! Be of good courage, however: remember our Shake- speare's maxim — She's beautiful, and therefore to be woo*d ; She is a woman, and therefore to be won! *' Persevere in little quiet assiduities; let not her indifference tempt j^ou to show any impatience or ill-humour — and, above all, make haste out of this room, for, with these papers strewed about, I would not have her find you here for the world 1 ** He followed the counsel; hastily kissed me; called me '* a dear consoling girl,*' and withdrew. I immediately collected, and locked up the poetry; and putting on my walking things, went out in search of the two ladies, whom I soon traced and joined. Now tell me, Augusta, tell me, Caroline, 286 did I not treat this brother of ours with amazing lenity and mercy ? Not a shadow of reproach, not a single allusion to the past — but mild and soft as a dove, I seemed to whisper peace and hope to his anxious heart ! Perhaps the recollection, still so fresh in my mind, of his admirable conduct to the farmer's pretty daughter, might,' even unknown to myself, influence my behaviour to him. At all events, I am glad I hap- paied to receive his communication so prettily ; I might not have done so in every humour^ for you well know, that since his residence here, I have often, and with just reason, been extremely angry w^ith him. I am determined not to give a hint to Geraldine of wiiat has passed betvreen us. Ferdinand is too good to be made love for by proxy; he shall win her himself: and, at times, I am sanguine in my hopes of his success; at other moments, the idea of Lord' Litchmere comes across me, and I sicken with doubt and alarm. Have I ever toldj^ou, that before he w^ent from Westhili with his sisters, he announced his intention of hiring, as a hunting box, a small place in 587 this neighbourhood, called Rushley, xvhither he means, almost immediately, to establish himself for some months? Now, I cannot help surmising that this is done merely to be in the vicinity of Miss Fauconberg: Airs. Neville professes the utmost surprise at it; calls it a complete whim; and says he would not formerly have cared, had all the foxes in England had a price set upon their heads. Is not this calculated to strengthen my ap- prehensions? And if a man of such high character, a man of noble birth, large for- tune, of unexceptionable manners, and ap- parently amiable disposition, starts up the competitor of our poor Ferdinand, what is his chance in the contest? He, who has to obliterate from her mind the most unfa- vourable recollections ? he, who, with what- ever reluctance, is compelled to abandon the field to his rival ? to absent himself at a juncture the most critical, to leave his fate undecided, and his image scarcely cleared from the Stain with which he sullied it by his own perverseness ? You will ask me, perhaps, what I mean .by his being compelled to retreat ? Can you 288 then think he intends to continue here an unaccepted, even an unacknowledged lover, without fresh encouragement from Mr. Archer; without any ostensible motive for remaining ? No, certainly. He origin- ally came (and with persuasion enough. Heaven knows ! ) for a month : on occasion of the ball, Mr. Archer pressed him to pro- long the visit : but now, he seems to think it has been of reasonable duration, and makes no further effort to extend its con- tinuance. Ferdinand, therefore, in con- science, in decency, can maintain his quar- ters UQ longer — and in a few days he leaves US; first, to pay a short visit to his former tutor, Mr. Newenden; and then, to join my mother at Parkton Castle, where he soon expects visitors himself Adieu, my dear sisters* Yours, most affectionately, Julia Lesmore. END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. J'fmtcd by S. Hamilton, Wcybridgc, Surry. L i:^;*; 3 0112 03731