Dilemmas of Pride Volume II Part 3

"I only hope, Madeline," commenced Mrs. Dorothea, "that this affair may go on as prosperously as it has commenced, and you will be quite an Eastern queen."

"If he were a nice young man," said Madeline.

"He is quite young enough," retorted Mrs. Dorothea, "a girl should always marry a man somewhat older than herself."

"Somewhat; yes, but not twice or three times."

"It is impossible, my dear child, to combine every advantage," observed Lady Arden, with a sigh, "and the establishment, as your aunt says, would undoubtedly be a very brilliant one." Willoughby, Jane, and Louisa, all enquired eagerly about the fortune and connexions of the gentleman, and on being informed of every particular, confessed that it would certainly be a most desirable match.

"When we consider too," said Lady Arden, "the great difficulty, the next to impossibility, of meeting with suitable establishments for girls of good family and small fortunes. They cannot marry wealthy men of low connexions--that would be disgracing their families; they cannot marry the younger sons of good families, as they too are of course poor; and the elder sons cannot marry them, for they want money to pay off their inc.u.mbrances; so that when a girl so situated chances to make a conquest of a man who can afford to marry her, she may be said to be unusually fortunate." To have escaped, she might have added, the saddest of all the _Dilemmas of Pride_.

"Whatever sort of fellow the man may be," interrupted Willoughby, laughing.

"That is not at all a fair inference," replied her ladyship. "We are of course taking it for granted that the gentleman is of unexceptionable character, agreeable, and, in short, all that a gentleman ought to be."

"Which is, you will allow," persisted Willoughby, "taking a good deal for granted. The only thing you ladies seem determined not to take for granted is the fortune."

"Luckily," observed Mrs. Dorothea, "there is nothing to take for granted in this case. Indeed," she added, drawing up, "I should not, as I said before, have introduced Mr. Cameron to my niece if he had not been in every way a desirable connexion."

The immediate prospect of the t.i.tle was now discussed, the uncle being eighty-six; the magnificence of the fine old place; the splendour of the town residence; the entertainments to be given; the equipages, the diamonds, and so forth: while at every pause Madeline was p.r.o.nounced by her aunt a most fortunate girl, till vanity at length stirring within her, she began to think that she really was fortunate; and that she must, she supposed, be civil to her old beau the next time she saw him.

After this, when Lady Arden had retired to her own room, accompanied by Madeline, who was her sleeping companion, she renewed the conversation in a serious and tender strain, representing strongly to her daughter the great danger of appearing for a season or two unappropriated, with the ultimate and utter wretchedness of the single state, than which she did not know if even an unhappy marriage were not preferable. "Mrs.

Dorothea says, you know," she added, trying to treat the subject jestingly, though herself ill at ease, "that a bad husband, from which heaven preserve you, my child!" she fervently e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, "is quite a _natural_ misfortune, and therefore easy to endure, in comparison with the unnatural misery of having no tie to life; no affections, no feelings, no hopes, no fears, no joys, no sorrows; yet to be surrounded with the most undignified annoyances, and to feel that for want of more important objects of interest, one's mind is degraded into being their very slave, with just enough left of its former self to make it sensible of its debas.e.m.e.nt. The cares of the wife and mother, however numerous, however anxious, are comparatively enn.o.bling! For though it is our second self, and our children, who may be said to be parts of ourselves, that are their objects, still they are not felt for self alone; they do not spring from that most unredeemed of instincts, individual selfishness. Then, in the case of Mr. Cameron," proceeded her ladyship, "he is, your aunt says, so peculiarly amiable, and bears in every particular so high a character, that there is every reason to hope that where he fixed his affections he would make a kind and good husband."

And here again Lady Arden enlarged on the splendour of the match, yet with tears in her eyes, and even more than her usual indulgent tenderness of manner; for while she could not bear to resign prospects so dazzling, she looked anxiously at her blooming child, and feared the sacrifice might be too great.

Madeline, very much affected by her mother's fond and winning gentleness, said, and thought at the time, she was sure that she should be quite happy in doing anything that would give her pleasure, promising to be always and in every thing guided by her advice.

"Still, my love, 'tis you yourself who must ultimately decide; only don't be rash in casting away, should it ever be in your offer, what has so many advantages."

This doubt as to the fact of her having made the so much talked of conquest at all, sounded somewhat disagreeable in Madeline's ear; and perhaps went further in creating a desire to secure the said brilliant establishment than all which had been said in its favour. She began already to think herself threatened with the fate of Aunt Dorothea; and contrasting that in imagination with what she was told her lot would be as the wife of Mr. Cameron, she came to the conclusion, that whenever he made her an offer of his hand she supposed she must accept it!

What were the while the thoughts of the lover, as "sleepless he lay on his pillow?" Smiles, dimples, and ringlets, floated in lovely confusion before his mind's eye; the latter, however, brought with them a painful remembrance of the scantiness of his own locks; then immediately followed visions of gold and silver, and precious stones; and grat.i.tude and adoration; all to be offered at the feet of his fair idol, if she would but kindly overlook the _slight_ disparity in their ages, and become his wife. What equipages, too, she should have; what a palace she should dwell in; and as to her own fair person, it should blaze the very queen of diamonds!

What a happy man, despite an extra twitch of rheumatism, brought on by his dancing, would our old beau have been, had "some good angel," not exactly "ope'd to him the book of fate" perhaps, but whispered to him the propitious resolve just formed by the lovely object of his affections.

The angel, of course, would have had too much politeness to mention that the lady intended to marry him solely for the glitter of his t.i.tle and his gold.

Thus do we see the identical cla.s.s of persons whom pride, were they starving, would not suffer to seek a livelihood by selling any thing else in the world, for very pride's sake willing to sell themselves!!!

Such are the strange monsters of inconsistency to which the prejudices of society give birth.

Such, in short, are the _Dilemmas of Pride_!!!

CHAPTER IX.

Willoughby was fidgeting in and out of the drawing-room, looking at his watch every five minutes, drawing off and on his gloves, and whistling out of tune, although his ear was excellent. Alfred was seated in a corner reading a book, which he said he was anxious to finish, having on that plea, though in general so obliging, refused to walk out with his sisters. The fact was, that he was miserably desirous to watch the movements of Willoughby, and be on the spot to hear from himself the earliest account of the result of his intended visit at Lady Palliser's.

Willoughby suspected as much, but neither had the courage to speak to his brother on the subject, though they had the room quite to themselves, and knew that they enjoyed each other's confidence. At length Willoughby, after looking at his watch rather longer than usual, put it abruptly back into his pocket, once more drew on his gloves, but now so hastily that he deprived one of a thumb; he then took his hat and smoothed it round and round three several times with the wrist of his coat, paused irresolutely between each deliberate performance of the operation, as if intending to say something, and yet at length, without speaking at all, rushed through one of the French windows which opened on the lawn, and disappeared. Alfred, as soon as he was alone, raised his head from his book, and with parted lips held his breath, to listen for the tread of his brother's foot on the gravel, first in their own garden, then in the adjoining one. He next heard his knock, and a few moments after could distinguish, though not the precise words, Willoughby's voice inquiring, of course, if Lady Palliser were at home.

Lastly he heard the entering step and closing door.

Now it was Alfred's turn to pace up and down the apartment. He did so with hurried and unequal steps for about ten minutes, then flung himself on a sofa, and lay perfectly motionless, his eyes vacant of expression, for their sight was turned inward, where fancy was busily pourtraying the scene probably pa.s.sing at the moment in Lady Palliser's drawing-room--that very room in which he had lately spent so many blissful hours; in which he had so often yielded to the fatally fascinating conviction that he was beloved by a heart too innocent to hide its feelings; that very room in which he had finally been accepted with seeming confidence, with seeming tenderness; and yet in which but a few hours after, he had been as capriciously, as unfeelingly rejected; nay, rejected with the most unequivocal symptoms of personal aversion, and that without any possible cause being a.s.signed, except the lady's having, in the mean time, met with and determined to captivate his elder brother, who was a much richer, and as head of the family, a greater man. And she had accomplished her end. Willoughby was probably at this very moment declaring his love! How did Caroline listen? He pictured her such as she had looked while he had himself spoken; and the most pitiable agitation overwhelmed him. After the lapse of half an hour he again heard footsteps on the gravel. He started up--he stood at the window; he saw Willoughby approaching, his countenance beaming with satisfaction. How strange were his own sensations; the exquisite pang instantly checked by the bitterest self-reproach. Was it possible?--Could he when he beheld the face of his kind, affectionate, dear brother, expressive of happiness, grieve at the sight?--Oh, for shame! it was not so--it should not be so--as to his own disappointment, that had been an ascertained thing long before;--why recur to it now! By this time Willoughby had entered and grasped his hand. Alfred mastered his emotion, and cordially returning the pressure of the hand, said with a forced smile, "I see you have been accepted?"

"I have--it is not however to take place for several months; so Lady Palliser has invited me in the mean while to stay some time with them in ----shire; and after I have been to Arden, and made all my arrangements there, I am to join them in Paris, whence we are to proceed through some parts of Italy and Germany; all previous to--to--the ratification of our engagement. They will leave Cheltenham, I believe, to-morrow or next day; but I am to spend this evening with them _en famille_, when I shall know all their plans."

Fortunately for Alfred, the walking party returned at this moment, which spared him the painful necessity of either hearing more or speaking at all, beyond the one warmly expressed e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, "May you be truly happy!"

Each of the girls was attended by her respective lover; Louisa indeed by both of hers, and Mrs. Dorothea was chaperon, as she was on all occasions when Lady Arden felt fatigued; for the young people knew very well they had only to get about their good-natured aunt and declare they could not do without her, to make sure of her services.

"What has become of Mr. Cameron?" asked Mrs. Dorothea. Madeline had been thinking the same question. "Surely he has not slipped away without bidding us good morning!" continued the old lady, "he came to the door with us."

The object of their enquiries now made his appearance; he had merely in pa.s.sing through the hall slunk behind the party a little to comb up the side curls; and they had either been more unmanageable than usual, or their owner had become more than ever anxious about his personal appearance.

A long luncheon-table was laid in the dining-room, furnished with many good things which had adorned the supper of the night before; with this resource, a little flirtation, and a good deal of music--for all the girls sang and played on various instruments, nothing could be more gay and agreeable than the party. Even Henry Lindsey was in high good humour; for Louisa had that morning bestowed on him two smiles for each one she had vouchsafed Sir James.

Lady Arden, who was never early after a night of raking, joined them in the midst of their merriment, looking, however, rather serious herself; for Willoughby had been up to her dressing-room, and had confided to her his pleasing prospects, and though she could not absolutely grieve at the happiness of any of her children, she certainly could not help regretting in this particular instance that Alfred had not been the successful suitor. Setting aside a peculiar overflow of tenderness for him as the secret favourite of her heart, she considered that, in a pecuniary point of view it would have been a most desirable match for him, while his brother did not require fortune. And then she had watched Alfred, and had traced, or at least thought she could trace, effort in his manner, and even in the very tones of his voice a cadence that was not quite natural. There was something, in short, in the sound, that made her look at him while he spoke, and pained her, she could not tell why. He sat opposite to her at the said luncheon-table, and had just offered to help her to something. She met his eyes and saw that they rose and fell unsteadily before the enquiring expression of hers. The first time they were alone, or at least thought themselves so, her enquiries were so tender that he could no longer act a part. His eyes filled with tears; ashamed of these he hid his face for a few moments, then, as if to apologise for his weakness, with a vehement burst of feeling confessed the ardour of his attachment; the hopes he had been authorised to entertain--nay, how he had been on the morning of the very evening on which Willoughby arrived, actually accepted; and then on the very morning after as absolutely rejected, and from interested motives he could not doubt; there was no time for preference. And here, he added some bitter reflections on the misery of being a younger brother, till his more generous feelings prevailing again he spoke with his usual affection of Willoughby, and of his chief consolation being in the thought of his happiness, for the sake of which it was that he had struggled, and still would struggle to conceal, and ultimately subdue every feeling of his own.

Geoffery had been all this while laying _perdu_ on a sofa in the adjoining drawing-room, the folding doors to which were open; he had therefore heard enough of the foregoing conversation to be tolerably _au fait_ of the family secrets of which it treated, sufficiently so at least for a future purpose, of which, however, he was not, indeed could not be at the time aware. On the philosophical principle, however, that "knowledge is power," perhaps he thought it as well to have all the knowledge he could obtain. A knowledge of peoples' affairs does sometimes, there is no question, place them in our power.

Without therefore announcing his presence he retained his unseen position till Lady Arden and Alfred had severally quitted the room.

CHAPTER X.

In the evening, when Willoughby was preparing to go to Lady Palliser's, he received a miniature note from her ladyship, saying, that Caroline's cold was so much worse that she was not able to leave her room, which untoward circ.u.mstance compelled them to resign the pleasure of seeing him that evening.

He was of course much disappointed. The next morning, and for several succeeding ones, he called regularly; sometimes saw Lady Palliser, sometimes not; but Caroline was still invisible, being confined to her apartment by severe indisposition. Alfred, who felt that his fate was now sealed, longed for the quiet of Arden; and on the pretext of shooting, had proposed going thither. But Mrs. Dorothea would not hear of his leaving Cheltenham till after her party; and Lady Arden wished him, if possible, to be present at his sister Jane's marriage. Our kind-hearted hero therefore, the least selfish of beings, though fatigued by the perpetual effort to force his spirits imposed by society, consented to remain for the present.

Madeline, in pursuance of the prudent resolve she had formed, received Mr. Cameron's attentions in so amiable a manner, that he became very shortly a declared and received lover, and the happiest of men. She too, was for the present, or at least thought herself quite happy. Being the least striking of the family she had hitherto had rather an humble opinion of her personal attractions; she was therefore highly flattered and gratified by Mr. Cameron's absolute adoration. Her imagination too, dazzled by antic.i.p.ations somewhat resembling the Arabian Nights'

Entertainments, learnt to revel in the prospect of splendours heaped on splendours, as offerings at the shrine of her own charms; while, never having entertained a preference for any one else, her better feelings also found a pleasing resting place, in the thoughts of the promised fond devotion of her future husband. She could now sit like one really in love, and muse with delight on the prospect of the accomplishment of her every wish--the indulgence of her every whim--the worship of her very faults, which she flattered herself she was securing for life by marrying Mr. Cameron. In short, she was in high spirits; and in such good humour with fate, that she even began to think she should not have been half so happy had she been about to marry a younger man, who would have met her on more equal terms; or, had he been a man of fortune, would have thought perhaps that he was doing her the favour.

Louisa's mind, on the contrary, was in a very unsettled state. Sir James had proposed to her more than once. He had certainly not been accepted, but he had as certainly not been rejected with any thing like rational decision. But people did not seem to think it necessary to be rational with poor Sir James. She had told him, it is true, again and again, in a pert and childish manner, that she never would marry him; but she had laughed the while, and he had taken it all in good part, saying, that the girls liked to be tantalising. He had asked her at length for the measure of her finger: she had given him that of her wrist. With this he had repaired to a jewellers.

The shopman had a.s.sured him there must be some mistake; but at the same time recommended his taking the lady a very splendid bracelet, which was, he added, a present that should always precede the presentation of the ring.

Though Sir James was by no means careless of his money in general, he was now too much in love to give prudential considerations a thought; he therefore allowed the man to put up the highest priced bracelet in his whole collection. Its beauty pleased Louisa, and she was silly enough to accept and wear it: nay, Sir James himself was allowed to clasp it on her arm. This produced a scene with Henry: for our little baronet, vain of his unusual munificence, had kept the circ.u.mstance no secret. Louisa, beginning to fear she was getting entangled with a man whom she could not seriously decide on accepting, was vexed and out of spirits, and consequently staid at home that evening from the walks, on pretext of a headache.

Henry, always violent and imprudent, the moment he saw that she was not of the walking party, quitted the promenade, and repaired to Laden Arden's villa.

It was late and almost quite dark when, unannounced, he entered the drawing-room from the lawn by an open French window.

Louisa, who was alone and had flung herself on a sofa, thus taken by surprise, had but time to rise partially from her reclining position.

He approached. It so happened that though the apartment was without lights, a stray beam from a lamp at the distance of the little lawn gate, was caught and reflected, as Louisa moved her arm, by the bright jewels of the luckless bracelet.