Tales and Novels Volume VII Part 25

Mrs. Hungerford smiled at the openness with which her niece told her conjectures, and at the steadiness with which Caroline kept Mr.

Barclay's secret, by saying no more than just the thing she ought.

"The power of keeping a secret is very different from the habit of dissimulation. You would convince me of this, if I had doubted it," said Mrs. Hungerford, to Caroline. "Now that the affair is settled, my dear, I must insist upon your praising me, as I have praised you for discretion. I hope I never influenced your decision by word or look, but I will now own to you that I was very anxious that you should decide precisely as you have done. Mr. Barclay is a sensible man, an excellent man, one who will make any amiable woman he marries happy. I am convinced of it, or I should not, as I do, wish to see him married to my niece--yet I never thought him suited to you. Yours is a character without pretension, yet one which, in love and marriage, would not, I believe, be easily satisfied, would require great qualities, a high tone of thought and action, a character superior and lofty as your own."

Mrs. Hungerford paused, and seemed lost in thought. Caroline felt that this lady had seen deeply into her mind. This conviction, beyond all praise, and all demonstrations of fondness, increases affection, confidence, and grat.i.tude, in strong and generous minds. Caroline endeavoured, but could not well express in words what she felt at this instant.

"My dear," said Mrs. Hungerford, "we know that we are speaking plain truth to each other--we need no flowers of speech--I understand you, and you understand me. We are suited to each other--yes, notwithstanding the difference of age, and a thousand other differences, we are suited to each other. This possibility of a friendship between youth and age is one of the rewards Heaven grants to the early and late cultivation of the understanding and of the affections. Late as it is with me in life, I have not, thank G.o.d, survived my affections. How can I ever, whilst I have such children, such friends!" After a pause of a few moments of seemingly pleasurable reflections, Mrs. Hungerford continued, "I have never considered friendship as but a name--as a mere worldly commerce of interest: I believe in disinterested affection, taking the word _disinterested_ in its proper sense; and I have still, believe me, the power of sympathizing with a _young_ friend--such a young friend as Caroline Percy. Early as it is with her in life, she has so cultivated her understanding, so regulated her mind, that she cannot consider friendship merely as a companionship in frivolous amus.e.m.e.nt, or a mixture of gossiping confidences and idle sentiment; therefore, I am proud enough to hope that she can and will be the friend of such an old woman as I am."

"It would be the pride of my life to have--to deserve such a friend,"

cried Caroline: "I feel all the condescension of this kindness. I know you are much too good to me. I am afraid you think too highly of me.

But Mrs. Hungerford's praise does not operate like flattery: though it exalts me in my own opinion, it shall not make me vain; it excites my ambition to be--all she thinks me."

"You _are_ all I think you," said Mrs. Hungerford; "and that you may hereafter be something yet nearer than a friend to me is the warmest wish of my heart--But, no, I will not indulge myself in expressing that wish; Such wishes are never wise where we have no power, no right to act--such wishes often counteract their own object--antic.i.p.ations are always imprudent. But--about my niece, Lady Mary Pembroke. I particularly admire the discretion, still more than the kindness, with which you have acted with respect to her and Mr. Barclay--you have left things to their natural course. You have not by any imprudent zeal or generosity hazarded a word that could hurt the delicacy of either party.

You seem to have been fully aware that wherever the affections are concerned, the human mind is most tenacious of what one half of the philosophers in the world will not allow to exist, and the other half cannot define. Influenced as we all are every moment in our preferences and aversions, sometimes imperceptibly, sometimes avowedly, by the most trifling and often the silliest causes, yet the wisest of us start, and back, and think it inc.u.mbent on our pride in love affairs, to resist the slightest interference, or the best advice, from the best friends.

What! love upon compulsion! No--Jupiter is not more tenacious of his thunderbolt than Cupid is of his arrows. Blind as he is, none may presume to direct the hand of that little urchin."

Here the conversation was interrupted by the entrance of a servant, who brought the post-bag, with many letters for Mrs. Hungerford.

CHAPTER XVIII.

The arrival of the post was at this time an anxious moment to Mrs.

Hungerford, as she had so many near relations and friends in the army and navy. This day brought letters, with news that lighted up her countenance with dignified joy, one from Captain Hungerford, her second son, ten minutes after an action at sea with the French.

"Dear mother--English victorious, of course; for particulars, see Gazette. In the c.o.c.kle sh.e.l.l I have, could do nothing worth mentioning, but am promised a ship soon, and hope for opportunity to show myself worthy to be your son.

"F. HUNGERFORD."

"I hope I am grateful to Providence for such children!" cried Mrs.

Hungerford.

Mrs. Mortimer darted upon Captain Hungerford's name in the Gazette--"And I cannot refrain from mentioning to your lordships the gallant manner in which I was seconded by Captain Hungerford."

"Happy mother that I am! And more happiness still--a letter also from my colonel! Thanks of commanding officer--gallant conduct abroad--leave of absence for three weeks--and will be here to-morrow!"

This news spread through the castle in a few minutes, and the whole house was in motion and in joy.

"What is the matter?" said Rosamond, who had been out of the room when the colonel's letter was read. "As I came down stairs, I met I can't tell how many servants running different ways, with faces of delight. I do believe Colonel Hungerford is come."

"Not come, but coming," said Mrs. Hungerford; "and I am proud that you, my friends, should see what a sensation the first sound of his return makes in his own _home_. There it is, after all, that you may best judge what a man really is."

Every thing conspired to give Caroline a favourable idea of Colonel Hungerford. He arrived--and his own appearance and manners, far from contradicting, fully justified all that his friends had said. His appearance was that of a soldier and a gentleman, with a fine person and striking countenance, with the air of command, yet without presumption; not without a consciousness of his own merit, but apparently with only a consciousness sufficient to give value and grace to his deference for others. To those he respected or loved, his manner was particularly engaging; and the appropriate attentions he paid to each of his friends proved that their peculiar tastes, their characteristic merits, and their past kindnesses, were ever full in his remembrance. To his mother his grateful affection, and the tender reverence he showed, were quite touching; and the high opinion he had of her character, and the strong influence she held over his mind, he seemed proud to avow in words and actions. To his sister Mortimer, in a different but not less pleasing manner, his affection appeared in a thousand little instances, which the most polite courtiers, with the most officious desire to please, could not without the happy inspiration of truth have invented. There were innumerable slight strokes in his conversation with his sister which marked the pleasure he felt in the recollection of their early friendship, allusions to trivial pa.s.sages in the history of their childhood, which none of the important scenes in which he had since been engaged had effaced from his mind; and at other times a playful carelessness, that showed the lightness, the expanding freedom of heart, which can be felt only in the perfect confidence and intimacy of domestic affection. In his manner towards his cousins, the Lady Pembrokes, who, since he had last seen them, had grown up from children into fine young women, there were nice differences; with all the privileged familiarity of relationship he met the sprightly frankness of Lady Mary, and by a degree of delicate tender respect put the retiring sensitive timidity of Lady Elizabeth at ease. None of these shades of manner were lost upon Caroline's discriminating observation. For some time after his arrival, the whole attention of every individual at Hungerford Castle was occupied by Colonel Hungerford. All were alternately talking of him or listening to him. The eagerness which every body felt to hear from him accounts of public and private affairs, and the mult.i.tude and variety of questions by which he was a.s.sailed, drew him out continually; so that he talked a great deal, yet evidently more to gratify others than himself. He was always unwilling to engross the conversation, and sometimes anxious to hear from his mother and sister of domestic occurrences; but he postponed his own gratification, and never failed to satisfy general curiosity, even by the repet.i.tion of narratives and anecdotes, till he was exhausted. Conscious that he did not wish to make himself the hero of his tale, he threw himself upon the mercy of his friends, or their justice; and without any of the provoking reserve of affected or cowardly humility, he talked naturally of the events in which he had taken a share, and of what concerned himself as well as others. With polite kindness, which gratified them peculiarly, he seemed to take the Percy family, as his mother's friends, directly upon trust as his own: he spoke before them, freely, of all his confidential opinions of men and things. He did them justice in considering them as safe auditors, and they enjoyed and fully appreciated the value of his various conversation. In his anecdotes of persons, there was always something decidedly characteristic of the individual, or ill.u.s.trative of some general principle. In his narratives there were strong marks of the Froissart accuracy of detail, which interests by giving the impression of reality, and the proof of having been an eye-witness of the scene; and sometimes, scorning detail, he displayed the power of keeping an infinite number of particulars in subordination, and of seizing those large features which gave a rapid and masterly view of the whole. For his profession he felt that enthusiasm which commands sympathy. Whilst he spoke of the British army, those who heard him seemed to see every thing, as he did, in a military point of view. Yet his love of military glory had not hardened his heart so as to render him insensible of the evils and sufferings which, alas!

it necessarily produces. The natural expression of great feeling and humanity burst from him; but he turned hastily and firmly from the contemplation of evils, which he could not prevent, and would not uselessly deplore. In conversing one day privately with Mr. Percy, he showed that bitter and deep philosophic reflections on the horrors and folly of war had pa.s.sed through his mind, but that he had systematically and resolutely shut them out.

"We are now," said he, "less likely than ever to see the time when all the princes of Europe will sign the good Abbe de St. Pierre's project for a perpetual peace; and, in the mean time, while kingdoms can maintain their independence, their existence, only by superiority in war, it is not for the defenders of their country to fix their thoughts upon 'the price of victory.'"

After explaining the plan of a battle, or the intrigues of a court, Colonel Hungerford would turn with delight to plans of cottages, which his sister Mortimer was drawing for him; and from a map of the seat of war he would go to a map of his own estate, eagerly asking his mother where she would recommend that houses should be built, and consulting her about the characters and merits of those tenants with whom his absence on the continent had prevented him from becoming acquainted.

These and a thousand other little traits showed that his military habits had not destroyed his domestic tastes.

Caroline had taken an interest in the military profession ever since her eldest brother had gone into the army. Colonel Hungerford was seven or eight years older than G.o.dfrey Percy, and had a more formed, steady, and exalted character, with more knowledge, and a far more cultivated understanding; but many expressions, and some points of character, were similar. Caroline observed this, and wished and hoped that, when her brother should have had as many opportunities of improvement as Colonel Hungerford's experience had given him, he might be just such a man.

This idea increased the interest she took in observing and listening to Colonel Hungerford. After he had been some time at home, and that every day more and more of his amiable character had been developed, Rosamond said to herself, "This is certainly the man for Caroline, and I suspect she begins to think so. If she does not, I never will forgive her."

One day, when the sisters were by themselves, Rosamond tried to sound Caroline on this subject. She began, as she thought, at a safe distance from her main object. "How very much esteemed and beloved Colonel Hungerford is in his own family!"

"Very much and very deservedly," answered Caroline. She spoke without any hesitation or embarra.s.sment.

Rosamond, rather dissatisfied even with the fulness of the a.s.sent to her first proposition, added, "And not only by his own family, but by all who know him."

Caroline was silent.

"It is surprising," continued Rosamond, "that a man who has led a soldier's wandering life should have acquired so much literature, such accurate knowledge, and should have retained such simple and domestic tastes."

Full a.s.sent again from Caroline, both of look and voice--but still not the exact look and voice Rosamond desired.

"Do you know, Caroline," continued she, "I think that in several things Colonel Hungerford is very like my brother G.o.dfrey."

"Yes, and in some points, I think Colonel Hungerford is superior to G.o.dfrey," said Caroline.

"Well, I really think so too," cried Rosamond, "and I am sure G.o.dfrey would think and say so himself. How he would admire Colonel Hungerford, and how desirous, how ambitious he would be to make such a man his friend, his--in short, I know if G.o.dfrey was here this minute, he would think just as I do about Colonel Hungerford, and about--all other things."

"All other things," repeated Caroline, smiling: "that includes a great deal."

"Yes, it does, that is certain," said Rosamond, significantly. "And,"

continued she, "I know another person of excellent judgment too, who, if I mistake not, is of my way of thinking, of wishing at least, in _some things_, that is a comfort. How Mrs. Hungerford does adore her son!

And I think she loves you almost as much." Caroline expressed strong grat.i.tude for Mrs. Hungerford's kindness to her, and the warmest return of affection.

"Then, in one word," continued Rosamond, "for out it must come, sooner or later--I think she not only loves you as if you were her daughter, but that--Now confess, Caroline, did not the idea ever occur to you?

And don't you see that Mrs. Hungerford wishes _it_?--Oh! that blush is answer enough--I'll say no more--I do not mean to torment or distress--good bye, I am satisfied."

"Stay, my dear Rosamond, stay one moment, and I will tell you exactly all I think and feel."

"I will stay as long as you please," said Rosamond, "and I thank you for this confidence."

"You have a right to it," said Caroline: "I see, my dear sister, and feel all your kindness towards me, and all Mrs. Hungerford's--I see what you both wish."

"There's my own sister Caroline, above all artifice and affectation."

"But," said Caroline.

"_But_--Oh! Caroline, don't go back--don't palter with us--abide by your own words, and your own character, and don't condescend to any pitiful _buts_."

"You do not yet know the nature of my _but_."

"Nor do I wish to know it, nor will I hear it," cried Rosamond, stopping her ears, "because I know, whatever it is, it will lower you in my opinion. You have fairly acknowledged that Colonel Hungerford possesses every virtue, public and private, that can make him worthy of you--not a single fault on which to ground one possible, imaginable, rational _but_. Temper, manners, talents, character, fortune, family, fame, every thing the heart of woman can desire."

"Every thing against which the heart of woman should guard itself," said Caroline.