Tales and Novels Volume VII Part 24

presto! prestissimo!_ to her preparations. Well, have you any commands?"

"No commands--but my best wishes for your ladyship's health and happiness, whenever and wherever you go."

Lady Angelica sunk down upon her seat--made a strong effort to rise again--but was unable. Caroline, without appearing to take any notice of this, turned to Mr. Barclay, and said, "Will you have the goodness now to give me the book which you were so kind as to promise me?"

Mr. Barclay went in search of it. Caroline proceeded with her drawing, gave Lady Angelica time to recover, and left her the hope that her perturbation had not been noticed. Her ladyship, as soon as she could, left the room, repeating that she had some orders to give for her departure. Caroline waited some time in vain for Mr. Barclay and his book. Afterwards, as she was going up stairs, she was met by Rosamond, who, with a face full of mystery, whispered, "Caroline, my father wants you this instant in my mother's dressing-room--Mr. Barclay," added she, in a low voice, and nodding her head, "Oh! I see you know what I mean--I knew how it would be--I said so last night. Now go to my father, and you will hear all the particulars."

Caroline heard from her father the confirmation of Rosamond's intelligence, and she received from him and from her mother the kind a.s.surance that they would leave her entirely at liberty to accept or refuse Mr. Barclay, according as her own judgment and feelings might dictate. They said, that though it might be, in point of fortune, a highly advantageous match, and though they saw nothing to which they could object in his character, understanding, and temper, yet they should not attempt to influence her in his favour. They begged her to decide entirely for herself, and to consult only her own happiness.

"All I insist upon, my dear daughter, is, that you should, without any idle or unjust generosity, consider first and solely what is for your own happiness."

"And for Mr. Barclay's," said Caroline.

"And for Mr. Barclay's, as far as you are concerned: but, remember, the question he asks you is, whether you can love him, whether you will marry him, not whether you would advise him to love or marry somebody else? Don't I know all that pa.s.ses in your mind?"

"Not all, perhaps," said Caroline, "nor can I tell it you, because it is another person's secret; therefore, I am sure you will not question me further: but since you are so kind as to trust to my judgment, trust to it entirely, when I a.s.sure you that I will, without any idle or unjust generosity, consider, princ.i.p.ally, what is for my own happiness."

"I am satisfied," said Mr. Percy, "no--one thing more: without meaning or wishing to penetrate into any other person's affairs, I have a full right to say to my daughter all that may be necessary to a.s.sist her in deciding on a point the most material to her happiness. Now, Caroline,"

continued her father, looking away from her, "observe, I do not endeavour, from my knowledge of your countenance, even to guess whether what I imagine is fact; but I state to you this supposition--suppose you had been told that another lady is attached to Mr. Barclay?"

"I never was told so," interrupted Caroline, "but I have discovered it by accident--No, I have said too much--I do not think _that person_ is attached to him, but that she might easily have become attached, if this proposal had been made to her instead of to me; and I think that their two characters are exactly suited to each other--much better suited than mine could be to Mr. Barclay, or his to me: she has wit and imagination, and great vivacity; he has judgment, prudence, and solid sense: in each there is what would compensate for what is wanting in the other, and both together would make a happy union."

"My dear Caroline," said her father, "I must put you upon your guard against the too easy faith of a sincere affectionate heart. I am really surprised that you, who have always shown such good judgment of character, should now be so totally mistaken as to think a woman capable of a real love who is merely acting a part from vanity and coquetry."

"Vanity! coquetry!" repeated Caroline: "n.o.body upon earth is more free from vanity and coquetry than--Surely you do not imagine I am thinking of Lady Angelica Headingham?--Oh! no; I have no compa.s.sion for her. I know that if she suffers from losing Mr. Barclay, it will be only from losing 'the dear delight of giving pain,' and I should be very sorry she ever again enjoyed that delight at Mr. Barclay's expense. I a.s.sure you, I am not thinking of Lady Angelica."

Both Mr. and Mrs. Percy were in doubt whether Caroline was thinking of her sister Rosamond or of her friend Lady Mary Pembroke; but without attempting to discover, they only repeated that, whoever the person in question might be, or however amiable or dear to Caroline, she ought not to let this idea interfere with her own happiness, or influence her in giving an answer to Mr. Barclay's proposal, which she ought either to accept or decline, according as her own feelings and judgment should decide.--"If you wish to take time to decide, your father and I will make Mr. Barclay clearly understand that he is not to consider this as any encouragement; and as to the rest," added Mrs. Percy, "when you are sure that you mean right, and that you do right, you will not, my dear Caroline, I hope, be deterred from determining upon what is best for your own happiness, merely by the weak fear of what idle foolish people will say about an affair in which they have no concern."

Caroline a.s.sured her mother that no such weak fear acted upon her mind; and that in any case where she had the least doubt whether she could like a person as a husband or not, she should certainly ask for time to consider, before she would give an answer; but that, with respect to Mr.

Barclay, she had had sufficient opportunities of seeing and judging of him in the character of a lover, whilst he had been the admirer of Lady Angelica; that she fully appreciated his good qualities, and was grateful for his favourable opinion; but that she felt perfectly certain that she did not and could not love him; and therefore she desired, as soon as possible, to put him out of the pain of suspense, to prevent him from having the mortification of showing himself the admirer of one by whom he must ultimately be refused; and to leave him at liberty to turn his thoughts elsewhere, to some person to whom he was better suited, and who was better suited to him.

Mr. Barclay had made Mrs. Hungerford alone his confidant. As to Lady Angelica Headingham, he thought that her ladyship could not be in any doubt of the state of his affections as far as she was concerned, and that was all she had a right to know. He never had actually declared his pa.s.sion for her, and his attentions had completely ceased since the determination she had made to break her engagement with his aunt; but Lady Angelica had still imagined that he would not be able to bring himself to part with her for ever, and she trusted that, even at the moment of getting into her carriage, she might prevail upon him to forget his wrongs, and might at last carry him off. These hopes had been checked, and for a moment overthrown, by Mr. Barclay's appearance this morning in the Oriel; the emotion with which she saw him speak to Caroline, and the indifference with which she heard him wish her ladyship health and happiness at Weymouth, or wherever she went, for an instant convinced her of the truth. But obstinate vanity recurred to the hope that he was not yet irreclaimable, and under this persuasion she hurried on the preparations for her departure, impatient for the moment of crisis--of triumph.

The moment of crisis arrived--but not of triumph. Lady Angelica Headingham's landau came to the door. But _trunks packed and corded_ gave no pang to her former lover--Mrs. Hungerford did not press her to stay--Mr. Barclay handed her into the carriage--she stooped to conquer, so far as to tell him that, as she had only Mr. Seebright and her maid, she could give him a seat in her carriage, if he would come to Weymouth, and that she would thence, in a fortnight at farthest, go to his aunt, dear Lady B----, in Leicestershire. But all in vain--she saw it would not do--bid her servant shut the carriage-door--desired Mr. Seebright to draw up the gla.s.s, and, with a look of angry contempt towards Mr.

Barclay, threw herself back on the seat to conceal the vexation which she could not control, and drove away for ever from irreclaimable lovers and lost friends. We do not envy Mr. Seebright his trip to Weymouth with his patroness in this humour; but without troubling ourselves further to inquire what became of her, we leave her

"To flaunt, and go down a disregarded thing."

Rosamond seemed to think that if Caroline married Mr. Barclay, the denouement would be too near, too clear, and commonplace: she said that in this case Caroline would just be married, like any body else, to a man with a good fortune, good character, good sense, and every thing very good, but nothing extraordinary, and she would be settled at Mr.

Barclay's seat in Leicestershire, and she would be Mrs. Barclay, and, perhaps, happy enough, but nothing extraordinary.

This plain view of things, and this positive termination of all hope of romance, did not please Rosamond's imagination. She was relieved, when at last Caroline surprised her with the a.s.surance that there was no probability of Mr. Barclay's succeeding in his suit. "And yet," said Caroline, "if I were compelled at this moment to marry, of all men I have ever yet seen, Mr. Barclay is the person to whom I could engage myself with the least reluctance--the person with whom I think I should have the best security for happiness."

Rosamond's face again lengthened. "If that is the case," said she, "though you have no intention of marrying him at present, you will, I suppose, be _reasoned into_ marrying him in time."

"No," said Caroline, "for I cannot be reasoned into loving him."

"There's my own dear Caroline," cried Rosamond: "I was horribly afraid that this man of sense would have convinced you that esteem was quite sufficient without love."

"Impossible!" said Caroline. "There must be some very powerful motive that could induce me to quit my family: I can conceive no motive sufficiently powerful, except love."

Rosamond was delighted.

"For what else _could_ I marry?" continued Caroline: "I, who am left by the kindest of parents freely to my own choice--could I marry for a house in Leicestershire? or for a barouche and four? on Lady Jane Granville's principles for _an establishment_? or on the _missy_ notion of being married, and having a house of my own, and ordering my own dinner?--Was this your notion of me?" said Caroline, with a look of such surprise, that Rosamond was obliged to fall immediately to protestations, and appeals to common sense. "How was it possible she could have formed such ideas!"

"Then why were you so much surprised and transported just now, when I told you that no motive but love could induce me to marry?"

"I don't recollect being surprised--I was only delighted. I never suspected that you could marry without love, but I thought that you and I might differ as to the quant.i.ty--the degree."

"No common degree of love, and no common love, would be sufficient to induce me to marry," said Caroline.

"Once, and but once, before in your life, you gave me the idea of your having such an exalted opinion of love," replied Rosamond.

"But to return to Mr. Barclay," said Caroline. "I have, as I promised my father that I would, consulted in the first place my own heart, and considered my own happiness. He appears to me incapable of that enthusiasm which rises either to the moral or intellectual sublime. I respect his understanding, and esteem his principles; but in conversing with him, I always feel--and in pa.s.sing my life with him, how much more should I feel!--that there is a want of the higher qualities of the mind. He shows no invention, no genius, no magnanimity--nothing heroic, nothing great, nothing which could waken sympathy, or excite that strong attachment, which I think that I am capable of feeling for a superior character--for a character at once good and great."

"And where upon earth are you to find such a man? Who is romantic now?"

cried Rosamond. "But I am very glad that you _are_ a little romantic; I am glad that you have in you a touch of human absurdity, else how could you be my sister, or how could I love you as I do?"

"I am heartily glad that you love me, but I am not sensible of my present immediate claim to your love by my touch of human absurdity,"

said Caroline, smiling. "What did I say, that was absurd or romantic?"

"My dear, people never think their own romance absurd. Well! granted that you are not romantic, since that is a point which I find I must grant before we can go on,--now, tell me, was Mr. Barclay very sorry when you refused him?" said Rosamond.

"I dare not tell you that there is yet no danger of his breaking his heart," said Caroline.

"So I thought," cried Rosamond, with a look of ineffable contempt.

"I thought he was not a man to break his heart for love. With all his sense, I dare say he will go back to his Lady Angelica Headingham. I should not be surprised if he went after her to Weymouth to-morrow."

"I should," said Caroline; "especially as he has just ordered his carriage to take him to his aunt, Lady B----, in Leicestershire."

"Oh! poor man!" said Rosamond, "now I do pity him."

"Because he is going to his aunt?"

"No; Caroline--you are very cruel--because I am sure he is very much touched and disappointed by your refusal. He cannot bear to see you again. Poor! _poor_ Mr. Barclay! I have been shamefully ill-natured.

I hope I did not prejudice your mind against him--I'll go directly and take leave of him--poor Mr. Barclay!"

Rosamond, however, returned a few minutes afterwards, to complain that Mr. Barclay had not made efforts enough to persuade Caroline to listen to him.

"If he had been warmly in love, he would not so easily have given up hope.

'None, without hope, e'er loved the brightest fair; But love can hope, where Reason should despair.'"

"That, I think, is perfectly true," said Rosamond.

Never--begging Rosamond and the poet's pardon--never--except where reason is very weak, or where the brightest fair has some touch of the equivocating fiend. Love, let poets and lovers say what they will to the contrary, can no more subsist without hope than flame can exist without fuel. In all the cases cited to prove the contrary, we suspect that there has been some inaccuracy in the experiment, and that by mistake a little, a very little hope has been admitted. The slightest portion, a quant.i.ty imperceptible to common observation, is known to be quite sufficient to maintain the pa.s.sion; but a total exclusion of hope secures its extinction.

Mr. Barclay's departure was much regretted by all at Hungerford Castle, most, perhaps, by the person who expressed that regret the least, Lady Mary Pembroke--who now silently enjoyed the full chorus of praise that was poured forth in honour of the departed. Lady Mary's common mode of enjoying the praise of her friends was not in silence; all she thought and felt usually came to her lips with the ingenuous vivacity of youth and innocence. Caroline had managed so well by not managing at all, that Lady Mary, far from guessing the real cause of Mr. Barclay's sudden departure, repeatedly expressed surprise that her aunt Hungerford did not press him to stay a little longer; and once said she wondered how Mr. Barclay _could_ leave Hungerford Castle whilst Caroline was there; that she had begun to think he had formed an attachment which would do him more honour than his pa.s.sion for Lady Angelica Headingham, but that she feared he would have a relapse of that fit of folly, and that it would at last end fatally in marriage.