Tales and Novels Volume VII Part 19

"Well, lest we should go over the same ground, and get into the same labyrinth, where we lost ourselves this morning, let me come to the point at once.--May I hope, Mr. and Mrs. Percy, to have the pleasure of Caroline's company at Tunbridge next week, and in town next winter, or not?--That is the question."

"That is a question which your ladys.h.i.+p will be so good as to ask Caroline, if you please," said Mr. Percy; "both her mother and I wish that she should decide for herself."

"Indeed?" cried Lady Jane: "then, my dear Caroline, if you please, come with me this minute to my dressing-room, and we'll settle it all at my _toilette de nuit_. I have a notion," added her ladys.h.i.+p, as she drew Caroline's arm within hers, and led her out of the room, "I have a notion that I shall not find you quite so impracticable as your father has shown himself."

"You may leave us, Keppel," said Lady Jane to her maid, as she went into her dressing-room--"I will ring when I want you.--My love," said she to Caroline, who stood beside her dressing-table, "why did not you let Keppel dress your hair to-day?--But no matter--when I once get you to town, we'll manage it all our own way. I have a notion that you are not of a positive temper."

Caroline coloured at this speech.

"I see what are you thinking of," said Lady Jane, mistaking her countenance; "and to tell you the truth, I also am sadly afraid, by what I see, that we shall hardly gain our point. I know your father--some difficulty will be started, and ten to one he will not allow me to have you at last, unless you try and persuade him yourself."

"I never try to persuade my father to do any thing."

"What, then, he is not a man to be persuaded?"

"No," said Caroline, smiling; "but what is much better, he is a man to be convinced."

"Better!" exclaimed Lady Jane: "Why surely you had not rather live with a man you were to convince than one you could persuade?"

"Would it not be safer?" said Caroline: "the arts of persuasion might be turned against us by others, but the power of conviction never could."

"Now, my dear, you are too deep for me," replied Lady Jane. "You said very little in our long debate this morning, and I'm afraid I said too much; but I own I could not help speaking candidly. Between ourselves, your father has some notions, which, you know, are a little odd."

"My father!" exclaimed Caroline.

"Yes, my dear, though he is your father, and my relation too, you know one cannot be quite blinded by partiality--and I never would give up my judgment."

"Nor would I," said Caroline. "Nor I am sure would my father ever desire it. You see how freely he permits, he encourages us all to converse with him. He is never displeased with any of us for being of a different opinion from him."

"He may not show displeasure," said Lady Jane.

"Oh! he does not feel it, ma'am--I a.s.sure you," said Caroline, with emotion. "You do not know my father, indeed you do not."

"My dear," said Lady Jane, retracting, "I know he is an excellent father, and I am sure I would have you think so--it is your duty; but, at the same time, you know he is not infallible, and you must not insist," added she, sharply, "upon all the world being of one way of thinking.--My dear, you are his favourite, and it is no wonder you defend him."

"Indeed, ma'am," said Caroline, "if I am his favourite, I do not know it."

"My dear, don't mistake me. It is no wonder that you _are_. You must be a favourite with every body; and yet," said Lady Jane, and she paused, "as you hinted, perhaps I am mistaken; I think Rosamond seems--hey?--Now tell me candidly--which is the favourite?"

"I would if I knew," said Caroline.

"Oh! but there must be some favourite in a family--I know there must; and since you will not speak, I guess how it is. Perhaps, if I had asked your sister Rosamond to go to town with me next winter, your father would have been better pleased, and would have consented more readily."

"To lose her company if she were his favourite?" said Caroline, smiling.

"But you know, my dear," continued Lady Jane, without hearing or attending to this, "you know, my dear, that Rosamond, though a very good girl and very sensible, I am sure, yet she has not your personal advantages, and I could do nothing for her in town, except, perhaps, introduce her at Mrs. Cator's, and Lady Spilsbury's, or Lady Angelica Headingham's conversazione--Rosamond has a mixture of navete and sprightliness that is new, and might _take_. If she had more courage, and would hazard more in conversation, if she had, in short, _l'art de se faire valoir_, one could hand her verses about, and get her forward in the bel-esprit line. But she must stay till we have brought you into fas.h.i.+on, my dear, and another winter, perhaps--Well, my love, I will not keep you up longer. On Monday, if you please, we shall go--since you say you are sure your father is in earnest, in giving you leave to decide for yourself."

What was Lady Jane Granville's astonishment, when she heard Caroline decline, with polite thanks, her kind invitation!

Her ladys.h.i.+p stood silent with suspended indignation.

"This cannot be your own determination, child?"

"I beg your ladys.h.i.+p's pardon--it is entirely my own. When a person is convinced by good reasons, those reasons surely become their own. But independently of all the arguments which I have heard from my father and mother, my own feelings must prevent me from leaving home in our present circ.u.mstances. I cannot quit my parents and my sister, now they are, comparatively speaking, in distress. Neither in prosperity nor in adversity do I wish to leave my family, but certainly not in adversity."

"High-flown notions! Your family is not in any great distress, that I see: there is a change, to be sure, in the style of life; but a daughter more, you know only increases the--the difficulties."

"I believe my father and mother do not think so," said Caroline; "and till they do, I wish to stay with them, and share their fortune, whatever it may be."

"I have done--as you please--you are to decide for yourself, Miss Caroline Percy: this is your final determination?"

"It is," said Caroline; "but permit me," added she, taking Lady Jane's hand, and endeavouring by the kindest tone of grat.i.tude to avert the displeasure which she saw gathering, "permit me to a.s.sure you, that I am truly grateful for your kindness, and I hope--I am sure, that I never shall forget it."

Lady Jane drew away her hand haughtily. "Permit me to a.s.sure you, Miss Caroline Percy, that there are few, very few young ladies indeed, even among my own nearest relations, to whom I would have undertaken to be _chaperon_. I do not know another young lady in England to whom I would have made the offer I have made to you, nor would that offer ever have been made could I reasonably have foreseen the possibility of its being refused. Let us say no more, ma'am, if you please--we understand one another now--and I wish you a good night."

Caroline retired, sorry to have displeased one who had shown so much friendly eagerness to serve her, yet not in the least disposed to change her determination. The next day Lady Jane's morning face boded no good.

Mr. and Mrs. Percy in vain endeavoured by all the kind attentions in their power to a.s.suage her feelings, but nothing restored her to that sweet temper in which she had begun the chapter of advice. She soon announced that she had received letters which called her immediately to Tunbridge, and her ladys.h.i.+p quitted the Hills, resolving never more to visit relations who would not be guided by her opinion.

The next persons who came to visit the Percy family in their retirement were Mrs. Hungerford and her daughter, Mrs. Mortimer, who had been friends and near neighbours whilst they resided at Percy-hall, and whose society they had particularly regretted. The distance at which they now lived from Hungerford Castle was such, that they had little hope that any intercourse could be kept up with its inhabitants, especially as Mrs. Hungerford had arrived at that time of life when she was exempted from the ceremony of visiting, and she seldom stirred from home except when she went to town annually to see her daughter Mortimer.

"So," said Mrs. Hungerford, as Mr. Percy helped her out of her carriage, "my good friend, you are surprised at seeing me, are you?--Ah! you thought I was too old or too lazy to come; but I am happy to be able to convince you that you are mistaken. See what motive will do! You know Mr. Percy says, that people can do any thing they please, and it is certain that it pleased me to do this."

When she was seated, and Mrs. Percy spoke of the distance from which she had kindly come to see them, she answered, "I hear people talk of a _visiting distance_; and I understand perfectly well what it means when acquaintance are in question, but for friends there is no _visiting distance_. Remove to the Land's End, and, old as I am, I will pursue and overtake you too, tortoise as I seem; and don't depend upon dark nights, for every night is full moon to me, when I am bent upon a visit to a friend; and don't depend upon hills--there are no Pyrenees between us."

These sound, perhaps, like mere civil speeches, but they came from one who always spoke sincerely, and who was no common person. Mrs.

Hungerford was, by those who did not know her, thought proud; those who did, knew that she had reason to be proud. She was of n.o.ble descent, dignified appearance, polite manners, strong understanding, and high character. Her fortune, connexions, various knowledge, and extraordinary merit, had, during a long life, given her means of becoming acquainted with most of the persons of any celebrity or worth in her own or in foreign countries. No new candidate for fame appeared in any line of life, without desiring to be noticed by Mrs. Hungerford; no traveller of distinction or of literature visited England without providing himself with letters of introduction to Mrs. Hungerford, and to her accomplished daughter, the wife of Admiral Mortimer. In her early youth she had pa.s.sed some years abroad, and had the vivacity, ease, polish, _tact_, and _esprit de societe_ of a Frenchwoman, with the solidity of understanding, amiable qualities, domestic tastes, and virtues of an Englishwoman. The mutual affection of this mother and daughter not only secured their own happiness, but diffused an additional charm over their manners, and increased the interest which they otherwise inspired. Mrs.

Mortimer's house in London was the resort of the best company, in the best sense of the word: it was not that dull, dismal, unnatural thing, an English _conversazione_, where people are set, against their will and their nature, to talk wit; or reduced, against their pride and their conscience, to wors.h.i.+p _idols_. This society partook of the nature of the best English and the best French society, judiciously combined: the French mixture of persons of talents and of rank, men of literature and of the world; the French habit of mingling feminine and masculine subjects of conversation, instead of separating the s.e.xes, far as the confines of their prison-room will allow, into hostile parties, dooming one s.e.x to politics, argument, and eternal sense, the other to scandal, dress, and eternal nonsense. Yet with these French manners there were English morals; with this French ease, gaiety, and politeness, English sincerity, confidence, and safety: no _simagree_, no _espionnage_; no intrigue, political or gallant; none of that profligacy, which not only disgraced, but destroyed the _reality_ of pleasure in Parisian society, at its most brilliant era. The persons of whom Mrs. Mortimer's society was formed were, in their habits and good sense, so thoroughly English, that, even had it been possible for them to put morality and religion out of the question, they would still have thought it quite as convenient and agreeable to love their own husbands and wives as to play at cross-purposes in gallanting their neighbours'. Of consequence, Mrs.

Mortimer, in the bloom of youth and height of fas.h.i.+on, instead of being a coquette, "hunting after men with her eyes," was beloved, almost to adoration, as a daughter, a wife, a mother, a friend. Mrs. Hungerford, at an advanced age, was not a wretched, selfish Madame du Deffand, exacting _hommage_ and _attentions_, yet disbelieving in the existence of friends.h.i.+p; complaining in the midst of all the luxuries of life, mental and corporeal, of being oppressed by ennui, unable to find any one to love and esteem, or incapable of loving and esteeming any one; Mrs. Hungerford, surrounded

"With all that should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends."

was, as she often declared, with grat.i.tude to Providence, happier in age than she had been even in youth. With warm affections, and benevolence guided and governed in its objects by reason and religion; indulgent to human nature in general, and loving it, but not with German cosmopolitism--first and best, loving her daughter, her family, comprising a wide and happy extent of relations and connexions, sons and nephews in the army and navy, or in different employments in the state: many of these young men already distinguished, others wanting only opportunity to do equal honour to their name.

During the summer, Mrs. Mortimer usually spent some months at Hungerford Castle, and generally took with her from town some friends whose company she thought would peculiarly suit her mother's taste. Mrs. Hungerford had always been in the habit of inviting the Percy family, whenever she had any body with her whom she thought they would wish to see or hear; and thus the young people, though living retired in the country, had enjoyed the advantages of becoming early acquainted with many celebrated literary and public characters, and of living in the best society; these were advantages which they obtained from their education and their merit; for a.s.suredly Mrs. Hungerford would never have troubled herself with them merely because they were her neighbours, possessing so many thousand pounds a year, and representatives of the Percy interest in the county.--A proof of which, if any were wanting, is, that she never took the least notice of those who now held their place at Percy-hall; and the first visit she paid when she came to the country, the first visit she had been known to pay for years, was to her friends the Percys, after they had lost their thousands per annum. So completely was it themselves and not their fortune which she had always considered, that she never condoled with them, and scarcely seemed to advert to any change in their circ.u.mstances. She perceived, to be sure, that she was not at Percy-hall; she discovered, probably, that she was in a small instead of a large room; the change of prospect from the windows struck her eye, and she remarked that this part of the country was more beautiful than that to which she had been accustomed.--As to the more or less of show, of dress, or equipage, these things did not merely make no difference in Mrs. Hungerford's estimation of persons, but in fact scarcely made any impression upon her senses or attention. She had been so much accustomed to magnificence upon a large scale, that the different subordinate degrees were lost upon her; and she had seen so many changes of fas.h.i.+on and of fortune, that she attached little importance to these. Regardless of the drapery of objects, she saw at once what was substantial and essential. It might, she thought, be one man's taste to visit her in a barouche and four, with half-a-dozen servants, and another person's pleasure to come without parade or attendants--this was indifferent to her. It was their conversation, their characters, their merit, she looked to; and many a lord and lady of showy dress and equipage, and vast importance in their own opinions, shrunk into insignificance in the company of Mrs. Hungerford; and, though in the room with her, pa.s.sed before her eyes without making a sufficient sensation upon her organs to attract her notice, or to change the course of her thoughts.

All these _peculiarities_ in this lady's character rendered her particularly agreeable to the Percy family in their present circ.u.mstances. She pressed them to pay her a long visit.

"You see," said Mrs. Hungerford, "that I had the grace to forbear asking this favour till I had possession of my daughter Mortimer, and could bring her with me to entice you.--And my dear young friends, you shall find young friends too, as well as old ones, at my house: my nieces, the Lady Pembrokes, are to be with me; and Lady Angelica Headingham, who will entertain you, though, perhaps, you will sometimes be tired _for_ her, she works so hard _aux galeres de bel-esprit_. I acknowledge she has a little too much affectation. But we must have charity for affectation and its mult.i.tude of foibles; for, you know, Locke says that it is only a mistaken desire to please. Angelica will find out her mistakes in time, and after trying all manners, will hold fast by the best--that is, the most natural: in the mean time, do you, my dear young friends, come and admire her as an inimitable actress. Then, Mr. Percy, I have for you three temptations--a man of letters, a man of science, and a man of sense. And, for the climax of my eloquence, I have reserved," continued she turning to Mrs. Percy, "my appeal to the mother's feelings. Know, then, that my son, my eldest hope, my colonel, has arrived from the continent--landed last night--I expect him home in a few days, and you must come and flatter me that he is prodigiously improved by the service he has seen, and the wounds which he can show, and a.s.sure me that, next to your own G.o.dfrey, you would name my Gustavus, of all the officers in the army, as most deserving to be our commander-in-chief."

An invitation, which there were so many good and kind reasons for accepting, could not be refused. But before we go to Hungerford Castle, and before we see Colonel Hungerford--upon whom, doubtless, many a one at this instant, as well as Rosamond Percy, has formed designs or prognostics in favour of Caroline--we must read the following letter, and bring up the affairs of Alfred and Erasmus.

CHAPTER XV.

LETTER FROM ALFRED PERCY TO HIS MOTHER.