Manners Volume Ii Part 3

London, May 25,----

My dear, dear Aunt,

Your last letter has made me very unhappy. Is it possible that you can really believe I have forgotten you?--I acknowledge that I have been very very remiss about writing; but indeed my heart has always been right towards you, though perhaps my conduct has not been so; however, I acknowledge my fault in this instance, though Lady Eltondale told me the other day, when I regretted not having answered either of your two last letters, that n.o.body but me kept a debtor and creditor account of correspondence; and that she was sure you could not really be uneasy about me, as you could never look at a newspaper without seeing my name in it, and of course knowing I was both "alive and merry." And, indeed, I often wonder how people have time to think and write so much about such a foolish girl as I am.--Do you know, the milliners have called a new cap, and a little satin hat, by my name?--Could you have believed, that your poor Selina would ever have been G.o.dmother to such bantlings? _Mais le vrai n'est pas toujours vraisemblable_; and I verily am installed, without any probation, into all the dignities of the _ton_. Mr. Sedley always tells me, I must be more than ever attentive to my manners; as, if I was to walk like the "Anthropophagi, whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders," I should make it the fas.h.i.+on, and every other girl would do the same. I do acknowledge, dear dear aunt, that I am quite delighted with London. It far, far exceeds my expectation: indeed all the descriptions of it I used to hear from Miss Cecilia Webberly are so different from what I found the reality to be, that I wonder where she can have met the originals of her extraordinary caricatures.

And as for Vauxhall and Astley's, that Miss Martin used to talk so much about, I should hardly believe there were such places in existence, if it was not for the advertis.e.m.e.nts I sometimes see in the newspapers. Poor Lucy! I wonder what she is doing now at Deane, vegetating in the country, as Lady Eltondale calls it, like a red cabbage, all through the winter. Do you know, aunt, I never like to think of the poor old Hall: I was so very happy there--so cheerful--so contented--you all then loved me so dearly, I had not a wish ungratified: now, in town, I am much more gay, but yet I seldom go into a crowded room, without a kind of feverish anxiety about a something, I know not what; and I seldom return home, at night, without a languor on my spirits I never experienced in former times;--but all that will soon wear away.--I am much fonder now of going to parties than I was at first; for though I always liked b.a.l.l.s and the Opera, I did not much admire routs, but now I think them very pleasant, for I generally meet Mr. Sedley, and he is always entertaining, and always kind to me: and, after all, I am determined to like the life I lead. For of what avail would it be to me to regret those quiet peaceful days, which can now never return? and if they did, they would probably appear insipid, after the greater pleasures I have now been accustomed to: so whenever my thoughts happen to turn to the poor dear old Hall, I jump up and immediately seek out Lady Eltondale; and there is something so calm, so elegant, and at the same time so freezing about her, that no person could feel what she calls romance in her presence. Her manners are like the snow on the Alps, they smooth down all the surface, and give a dazzling brilliancy to the whole appearance; but they are cold, almost to petrefaction, and I believe, after all, cover only a heart of stone. Do you know, I have found out lately I could never love Lady Eltondale. I have the greatest reliance on her judgment, and I am sure there is nothing she could _advise_ me to do (for she never _desires_ me to do any thing) that I would not do; but if I was to live with her to all eternity, I should never call her aunt, as I do you; or feel for her, in any degree, as I feel for you. I believe the difference is this--I would go any distance to be with you, or to prove how much I loved you; but if you and Lady Eltondale were to give me contrary directions, (don't be angry,) I should regret that I could not fulfil yours, but I should feel with her there was no alternative.

We don't see as much of the Webberly family, at least of the ladies, as I expected; for though they call very often, they are not on Lady Eltondale's "at home" list; and, except one day that I went with them to Somerset House, and last Sunday in Kensington Gardens, I have scarcely met them any where since we came to town.

The last time, however, that I saw them, Mrs. Sullivan was all bustle and importance, for she has received an invitation from one of Mr. Sullivan's relations, to go and visit him in Ireland; and she talks so much of his "_intense_ fortune, and great old castle,"

which Lady Eltondale, by the bye, says, is only a _chateau en Espagne_. But poor Mrs. Sullivan declares, "her Carline shall be an air-a.s.s after all, as she is sure Mr. Sullivan is so proud of his geology, that he will take care to leave every thing after him to his progenitors; and it is but fair he should give it to her daughter, as all old retailed estates ought to ascend to the hairs male." I sincerely hope, that dear charming Miss Wildenheim will not be dragged after them into one of those horrid Irish bogs: what a pity it is she should, in any way, be united to such a barbarous family; theirs is certainly the connection of _la belle et la bete_. But I had almost forgot to tell you, that Mrs. Sullivan and her son and heir intend to do me the honour of adding me to their establishment also. I wish I could describe Mr. Sedley's manner and words, as he entertained Lady Eltondale and me last night at the Opera, with an account of Mr. Webberly having invited him to dinner, for the express purpose, he says, of informing him of his intention to propose for me, in form, very shortly; and that Mr.

Webberly told Mr. Sedley this, lest he should have any intention of doing so himself. I don't know whether the idea of Mr. Webberly's own design, or his ridiculous suspicions of Mr. Sedley's, amused Lady Eltondale or him most: however they both agreed, that it was quite impossible I should ever marry a commoner. I wish you knew Mr. Sedley well, as I am sure you would like him, and be convinced that your prejudice last autumn, and your idea that he was unprincipled, would soon vanish. He is uncommonly good natured, and always tells me all my faults, and I am not the least afraid of him as I am of Lady Eltondale; indeed he is the only person in town I have real pleasure in conversing with. When I talk to any body else, I am always afraid of their misconstruing either my vivacity or my gravity. But Mr. Sedley's conversation is always adapted to the turn of the moment. If I am gay, he does not accuse me of levity; and if I am inclined to talk rationally, he does not call it pedantry. Would you believe it, the other night, when I know Mr.

Webberly thought he was making love to me, we were literally talking of Montesquieu's _Esprit des Loix_, which you may remember was one of the last books we read together--I mean with Mr. Temple.

Lady Eltondale is to give a great ball next week; I believe soon after that we shall leave town. Lord Osselstone, whom I meet constantly----Lady Eltondale has this moment called me into the drawing-room--I must go.--Good bye, dear dear aunt.

Yours most affectionately,

SELINA SEYMOUR.

The pretext the Viscountess made use of for interrupting Miss Seymour was, that she might comply with Mr. Sedley's request of showing him her drawings, as to see _them_ was ostensibly the purpose for which he had called that morning; though in truth a day seldom pa.s.sed, in which he did not find some good reason for visiting Portman square. Selina made no hesitation in producing them; for, though she was not quite exempt from the foible of personal vanity, yet she was entirely free from that despicable affectation, which a.s.sumes the appearance of modesty, when the reality is most wanting. Her drawings were, in truth, beautiful, and much superior to the common school girl exhibitions of would-be artists.

But her knowledge was even superior to her execution; and she so correctly appreciated the merits of her paintings, that she received both the encomiums and the criticisms they produced with equal candour.

While her miniatures and her portfolio were lying on Lady Eltondale's table, Lord Osselstone was announced. At first he expressed the surprise he felt, at thus unexpectedly discovering Selina's talent, and then complimented her on her excellence with his usual politeness. But believing Sedley's gallantry was more agreeable than his own, he gradually withdrew with Lady Eltondale to another part of the room.

Their attention was, however, soon attracted by a _brouillerie_ that had arisen between Sedley and Selina. It appeared, that he had possessed himself of a drawing out of her portfolio, which he seemed determined to retain; alleging it was a subject that particularly suited his taste; while she was still more anxious to regain the stolen treasure. In the struggle that ensued, the drawing fell to the ground; and Lord Osselstone, stooping to pick it up, discovered it to be a beautiful portrait of a pointer. The dog, at full length, was inimitably drawn; and over the different parts of the paper the same head was sketched in pencil, in a variety of different att.i.tudes; and in one corner was written also in pencil these lines of Metastasio's Partenza:--

Soffri che in traccia almen Di mia perduta pace, Venga il penner sequace Su l'orme del tuo pie.

Sempre nel tuo cammino, Sempre m'avrai vicino[6].

[Footnote 6:

At least allow that in the track, Once mark'd by joys now fled, My wandering thoughts may trace the path Which thy dear footsteps tread: For once where'er those footsteps stray'd, Still, still beside thee I delay'd.

"I have seen the original of that admirable portrait," said Lord Osselstone, in a tone of inquiry, as he politely returned the drawing to its mistress; while at the same time his dark penetrating eye rested full upon hers. She looked down instantly, and blus.h.i.+ng deeply, replied, "Perhaps your Lords.h.i.+p may have seen the dog: I meant it for Carlo. I only drew it from recollection:--it's a mere daub of no value now;" and so saying, she tore the drawing into a thousand pieces. Mr. Sedley uttered a volume of apologies and regrets; and Lady Eltondale, half laughingly half sarcastically, remonstrated at her not having sooner been informed of Miss Seymour's talent for taking dogs' portraits; alleging that she would now make Mignon sit for his picture. Then seeing that Selina's embarra.s.sment was increased, and Lord Osselstone's observation of it not withdrawn, she proposed adjourning to Selina's boudoir, to see some of her other miniatures that adorned it. Here her various occupations, her books, her harp, her work-box, all of which had evidently been lately used, served by Lady Eltondale's address as fresh subjects of conversation; and the current of Selina's thoughts being as rapidly turned, she soon resumed her natural gaiety; and perhaps Lord Osselstone's regret was scarcely less manifested than Sedley's, when the arrival of Lady Eltondale's carriage put an end to their visit.

The Viscountess made no further mention of Carlo's portrait, and both the original and the picture seemed to have entirely vanished from Selina's recollection, till a few days afterwards she discovered on her writing table in the boudoir an exact representation of Carlo himself in a _garde de feuille_. The dog was in bronze, on a marble pedestal, and on his collar were engraved the words, "_Je la garderai pour mon maitre._" Selina was not less delighted than surprised at this unexpected present; and immediately ran to thank Lady Eltondale for it, conceiving her to have been the donor. But she denied any knowledge of it, and they both concluded the gallantry must have been Sedley's.

Accordingly the next time they met him, Selina made her acknowledgements for the gift. At first he expressed, in the most natural manner, his surprise at her address, and affected total ignorance of the occasion of her grat.i.tude. But notwithstanding his laughable confusion and affected unconcern, both the Viscountess and her niece attributed the present to him;--a circ.u.mstance that gave room for reflection to both their minds, though the feelings it occasioned in each were far different.

CHAPTER VIII.

The enchantress summons to a splendid hall: ---- ---- In gay festoons around Bloom'd many a wreath with rose and myrtle crown'd.

--The nymphs, who late encompa.s.sing their queen Round her bright throne, like hov'ring clouds were seen, Now range themselves to wind the magic dance; The magic dance of pow'r, the dead to raise, Or draw embodied spirits down to gaze; Now pair by pair, now groupe by groupe unite, The loveliest forms in thousand folded light.

SOTHEBY'S OBERON.

Before the day arrived which had been fixed for Lady Eltondale's ball, to which Selina alluded in her letter to Mrs. Galton, a note from Lord Osselstone was received by the Viscountess, desiring her commands to Vienna, and informing her, that he and his nephew purposed immediately commencing a tour to the continent they had long meditated.

Selina felt almost relieved by the certainty of Mordaunt's absence, for she still felt a degree of painful embarra.s.sment in his presence, though she had taught herself no longer to expect any attention, and scarcely even recognizance from him in public. Nor was she much more at ease in the society of Lord Osselstone. Whenever he was near her, whatever might be his apparent occupation, she still felt an indescribable consciousness, that she was the object of his peculiar attention.

Sometimes a sort of reflected sensation in her own eye led her to believe, that his was fixed upon her; though often, when this feeling made her look round to meet his glance, she would perceive it was directed elsewhere. At other times, if engaged in conversation, when she had no idea whatever of his proximity, she would discover, by some casual observation, that he had heard all she had said; and his Lords.h.i.+p would then continue the discourse, be it what it might, in the strain best adapted to the moment; for Lord Osselstone particularly excelled in the talent of conversation:--he could--

"Choose a firm cloud before it fall, and in it Catch, ere she change, the Cynthia of the minute."

Whether the subject was lively or sententious, gay or serious, his abilities seemed equally applicable to all. At times his wisdom would call forth Selina's powers of reasoning; at others he would encourage the playfulness of her wit, till it "touch'd the brink of all we hate."

But beyond that verge no temporary exhilaration of spirits ever betrayed the chasteness, the delicacy of Selina's judgment. And yet, notwithstanding the urbanity and politeness of Lord Osselstone's manners to Selina, she never felt herself perfectly at ease with him. She could not be secure of what his real sentiments were, therefore, by a natural consequence, she was diffident in the expression of her own. She once described her feelings in regard to the Earl, by saying to Lady Eltondale, in her usual playful manner, "When I talk to Lord Osselstone, I always feel as if my mind was on stilts; and, though he seems only to follow my lead in conversation, I get almost out of breath, lest I should not keep up to my traces; but when I talk to Mr. Sedley, his chat runs on with mine in its own natural way, sometimes scarcely creeping along, and at others setting off in a full gallop: a Frenchwoman would say, "_Je debite avec l'un et cause avec l'autre._""

By this fortunate continental tour Selina was relieved from the dread of encountering, on the festive night, the only two people whose presence ever damped the amus.e.m.e.nt she derived from those scenes of gaiety in which she now shone so conspicuous; and, with unmixed delight, did she antic.i.p.ate the fete, which, in her opinion, would eclipse all that ever had preceded it. The munificent allowance which, by her father's will, was made to the Viscountess for Selina's residence with her, was by no means an unacceptable addition to Lord Eltondale's income; for though he "never had time" to look into his own affairs, and was little aware of the real extent of their derangement, yet the constant remonstrances of his steward convinced him most unwillingly, that they were in a very embara.s.sed state. It was not, however, Lady Eltondale's intention, that the sums received for the maintenance of her niece should be appropriated to the discharge of any of her husband's debts;--she claimed them as her own, and expended them in increased extravagance and dissipation. So sensible was she of the advantages she derived from Selina's remaining with her, that, though anxious for the match ultimately being made between Miss Seymour and Mr. Elton, she was by no means anxious, that their union should take place before the expiration of her minority, at which period she knew that her niece would of course form an establishment of her own.

The ball, which was now announced by the Viscountess, was ostensibly given for Selina; and all that taste could design, or expense procure, was put in requisition for the magnificent display. Selina, who had never by deprivation been taught the real value of riches, was delighted at the splendid preparations, and became a docile pupil in the arts of profusion under the admirable tuition of her aunt. Lady Eltondale was the character above all others most dangerous for the guidance or imitation of youth. Her faults were so varnished by the specious elegance and charms of her manners, that even the experience of age hesitated to bestow on them the stigma of vice, while the most thoughtless could not fail to discover, that she neither revered nor understood the fixed immutable rules of virtue. It is true the breath of scandal had never sullied the gloss of her fair fame; but for this, perhaps, she was more indebted to the frigidity of her heart, than to the rect.i.tude of her principles; and that total annihilation of all feeling, which she recommended both by precept and example, was more likely to eradicate the better sentiments of benevolence and generosity, than to serve as an effectual preventive against the temptations of pa.s.sion.

Lady Eltondale was scarcely less anxious than was Selina, that her entertainment should stand foremost in the annals of fas.h.i.+onable dissipation; for many little springs of self-interest were now set in motion in the calculating head of the Viscountess. She was arrived at that age, not only of her natural life, but of her existence in the world of fas.h.i.+on, when she felt it not undesirable to procure some auxiliaries, to support her on that pinnacle she had for many years occupied. She could not forget, that before her marriage she had been followed and flattered as a beauty, nor that, when she a.s.sumed her present t.i.tle, she had been still more courted as a leader of ton; but she now felt conscious, that both those enviable distinctions were beginning to fade, and she was therefore not unwilling to profit by the various advantages she derived from the society of her niece, whose more novel attractions drew renewed crowds to her a.s.semblies, and fresh visitors to her door. Nor did any personal jealousy interfere with the more substantial pleasures she enjoyed by being _chaperone_ to Miss Seymour. Lady Eltondale was well aware, that their beauty was so dissimilar, that their individual admirers would always be distinct; nor did she believe that any person, who was capable of duly appreciating the high polish of her more matured grace, would be diverted from their admiration by the unstudied, though exuberant charms of a girl of seventeen. It was therefore with more satisfaction than envy, that Lady Eltondale contemplated the unparalleled success of Selina's toilet on the night so eagerly antic.i.p.ated by both, as she appeared--

"In brilliancy of art array'd, Jewels and pearls in many a curious braid, Show that the unnotic'd di'mond's sunlike rays Fail to eclipse the self-resplendent blaze, Which round the unrivall'd charms of native beauty play'd."

"Vhy, Miss Seymour, I never seed nothing like that ere sprig in my life," said Mrs. Sullivan, bustling through the crowd up to Selina, who had just finished the first dance with the young Duke of Saltoun. "All the vay as you vent up and down the middle, it nodded about and sparkled so--you looks for all the 'versal vorld like the queen of dimonds." "Or rather the queen of hearts," said young Webberly, with a low bow and a deep sigh; while Selina, meeting Sedley's glance, could scarcely receive his compliments with a becoming composure of countenance. "Or if," said Sedley, advancing, "you want a simile, Webberly, suppose you call Miss Seymour the planet Venus, s.h.i.+ning at night with unrivalled splendour;--that will do, you know, ma'am, both for the sprig and the lady," continued he, turning with a ludicrous reverence to Mrs.

Sullivan. "Vhy as for the matter of that there, Mr. Sedley," replied the indignant matron, "my Jack could raise a smile himself in no time, without no promoting of any one's else's whatsomdever. He's not such a ninny-headed feller neither as you seem to take him for, Mr. Sedley. He can see as far into a millstone as e'er a one, Mr. Sedley; and, as far as his mother tongue goes, he can talk orthography with you or any one else." "No doubt, my dear ma'am," returned he, with immoveable gravity, "and nothing can surpa.s.s his mother's tongue;--

"'In her There is a p.r.o.ne and speechless dialect Such as moves men: beside she hath a prosp'rous art, When she will play with reason and discourse.'"

"Aye, aye, Mr. Sedley, you may go on as you please; preside in your own vay, but remember I knows what's what. I can tell Miss Seymour here, impudence is a bad prost.i.tute for honesty." Though Selina could not quite understand the full import of Mrs. Sullivan's observations, which she endeavoured to render still more significant by shrugs and gestures; yet by the heightened colour of the lady's complexion, and a transient gravity that pa.s.sed over the countenances of both gentlemen, she plainly discovered the conversation had taken a turn unpleasant to all parties; therefore, with that true politeness which arises from natural benevolence, she endeavoured to soothe the irrascible feelings of each, by diverting their thoughts into another channel. To Mrs. Sullivan she paid an elegant, and not very exaggerated compliment on Cecilia's particularly good looks. To Mr. Webberly's request that she would dance with him, she acceded with an alacrity, that seemed to verify her expression of regret that her other engagements obliged her to postpone hers with him for some dances; and by sending Sedley on an emba.s.sy to Lady Eltondale, she prevented a renewal of the skirmish between him and the offended mother, which the equivocal expression of his countenance led her to believe was not an impossible event. "Lawk, mama!" exclaimed Miss Webberly, in an elevated tone, as soon as he had left the groupe, "I wonder you can condescend to notice him so;--you're always fighting him now." "Vhy I know, Meely, I oughtn't to demon myself to such a feller; but I can't bear, not I, to see him ballooning (lampooning) poor Jack there, while every feature in his physiology shows that he's mocking him up all the time:--I can't bear no such hypercritics, not I."

Cecilia now warmly undertook his defence, which she entered upon with still more zeal as the subject of her mother's philippic had made an _amende honorable_ to her at least, by engaging her for the same set that her brother was to dance with Miss Seymour, who in the mean time having succeeded in parting the combatants, had gone to resume her station amongst the dancers.

The time at last arrived for the fulfilment of Selina's engagement with Webberly, and they stood up together. At first the youth was so busily engaged in settling his cravat, putting on and taking off his glove, and eyeing askance his neighbour the Duke of Saltoun, all of whose motions he endeavoured to imitate, that he had no time to attend to his fair partner. At last he recollected his duty, and hastily stepping across the dance, prepared to give utterance to a tender speech he had composed in the morning. But as he stooped forward to pour the soft accents in his fair one's ear, having, like the simple partridge, safely deposited his head, he became careless of the rest of his person; and unfortunately his n.o.ble prototype the Duke, at the same moment exerting himself vigorously in a Highland fling, came unexpectedly in contact with the dying swain, and threw him sprawling into the arms of his mistress, before either were prepared for so novel a situation. The salute was as little agreeable to poor Selina as it was unexpected, and she hastily disengaged herself from Webberly before he had succeeded in recovering his balance, or the Duke had uttered more than half his apologies. At last the youth accomplished regaining that erect posture, which is man's first characteristic, and returned in silence to his place opposite Selina, where he occupied himself, indefatigably in pulling down his coat behind, pus.h.i.+ng up his hair before, and looking sternly round, in the vain hope of suppressing the t.i.tter that buzzed on all sides of him. Thus without his renewing the attack, did they reach in silence the top of the dance, and before the effect of his disaster was obliterated from his mind or his countenance, their turn came to begin. He now determined, by increased exertions, to make amends for his unfortunate commencement, and by dint of manual labour to eclipse even the Duke of Saltoun in agility. His figure was athletic, and his limbs were ponderous; but art, in nature's despight, had made him at least an active dancer. And now he cut, and he leapt, and he sprang into the air, till the perspiration burst from his forehead. If by chance he got foremost down the middle, he dragged Selina's fragile form after him, _vi et armis_, the whole length of the set; but this inconvenience she did not often encounter, for he generally spent so much longer time than necessary in his coupees, and his settings, and his pirouettes, that he was forced to sail down the middle after his partner, like another Johnny Gilpin, while with terror in their countenances all beholders cleared the course before him. It was impossible for Selina long to endure the danger and fatigue of such a partner; and before they had half measured the length of the set, (except by the flying visits before mentioned) she proposed retiring to the bottom. But that situation was not more propitious to our hero than the top had been; long before he became stationary his breath was exhausted, and that gradual extension of the lungs, which he intended to be the

"Softest note of whisper'd anguish, "Harmony's refined part,"

became an audible and protracted groan, whilst his eyes, starting from their sockets from the violence of his exertions, were any thing but the messengers of pa.s.sion. "Good G.o.d! Miss Seymour, what is the name of your partner?" exclaimed Sir James Fenton, as he calmly surveyed the gasping hero through his spy-gla.s.s:--"Mr. Weatherly do you call him? Poor young man! he must dance for the good of his health! Tam O' Shanter himself never saw such 'louping and flinging' as he has exhibited to-night--pray introduce me to him." Then without waiting for the solicited presentation, he advanced to the new Vestris, and, with all possible gravity, began to compliment him on "his astonis.h.i.+ng performance." Each compliment called forth a fresh specimen from the flattered beau, as he was turned, or otherwise joined in the dance, to the infinite amus.e.m.e.nt of the surrounding crowd; and what between the necessary application of his pocket handkerchief, the exhibition of his extraordinary talent, and the proper returns of bows and smiles to every address of the malicious Sir James Fenton, he had no time left for courts.h.i.+p.

Supper was at length announced, and Sedley, who with his partner had been standing near Selina, offered her his arm, alleging, that Mr.

Webberly was too busy just then to attend to her: "Yes, (replied Selina laughingly, pa.s.sing her arm through his) my Achilles seems only vulnerable in the heel to-night." But Cecilia not choosing to lose any share of Sedley's attention, roared out, "Why, brother! brother John, what are you capering there for, like a great jack-a.s.s, as you are, and leaving Miss Seymour to take care of herself?" The hint was not lost upon him--he made one _entrechat_ which cleared the intimidated throng, and brought him to Selina's side, then seizing her hand, he led her triumphantly off before she had time to remonstrate, or he to recover sufficient breath to apologize for his previous inattention. However he fully determined to make up for his lost opportunity at the supper table; and therefore, fearful of interruption, was by no means desirous to find room for his mother and sister, who with Sedley and Cecilia joined them. But Miss Seymour's politeness to her guests counteracted his design; and while he was fortifying himself with a copious draught of _champagne_, as a necessary preliminary to the declaration he purposed making, Mrs. Sullivan was endeavouring to insinuate herself into the little s.p.a.ce which her daughters had reserved for her, with more attention to their own comfort, than to their parent's circ.u.mference. At last, however, she became seated, and, with maternal solicitude, immediately turned her anxious eye on her beloved son's countenance. But great was her dismay, and rapid was her utterance, as the following eloquent address burst forth in a sharp _contralto_ key, "Vhy, Jack! Lord deliver me, Jack! you be all of a lather! And your nose, child, as s.m.u.tty as a sweep's, from one end to t'other; why what, in the name of mercy, have you been about? Oh! vhy your hands be puxzy, I suppose, and so they have taken all the j.a.panning off Miss Seymour's fan here, I suppose."--"Mother can't ye mind your own business, and leave mine alone," roared the dutiful son, in a voice of thunder, at the same time profiting by the hint he condemned, and again wiping his face.--"Vhy I only tell you for own good, Jacky; but you are grown so copious of late, there's no wenturing to speak a vord, and my advice never makes no oppression on you, else I'd discommend your b.u.t.toning your waistcoat; and if you impress that ere wiolent perspiration you're in, I shall have you laid up in a t.i.tmouse fever, that's all Jack.--I know it ba'nt the fas.h.i.+on to mind any thing a parent says, now-a-days; but if I vasn't your own mother that bared ye, you'd attend to me, fast enough; though, (continued she, turning to Selina,) Miss Seymour, a vife is another guess matter to a young man; and Jack would make a wery good husband, I'm certain, if you'd but fancy him, though he's not quite so diligent to me as he might be."

Meantime, poor Jack, his faculties almost benumbed with his mother's rhetoric, and his own previous exhaustion, had allowed her to proceed without interruption, while he busied himself in b.u.t.toning the unfortunate waistcoat, that had called forth her animadversions. But his evil stars still pursued him: in his agitation he also b.u.t.toned up the greater part of the very pocket handkerchief which had before been in such constant requisition; one unlucky corner alone escaped; and, as he stood up to help himself to a fresh bottle of _champagne_ that was at some distance, this singular appendage struck his anxious parent with fresh dismay. Her exclamations, at his extraordinary appearance, were too much for the risible muscles of the rest of the company. A universal shout of laughter burst from the whole table. In vain did Mrs. Sullivan roar out, "b.u.t.ton it up, Jack! b.u.t.ton it up!" In vain did Jack cast the most indignant glances, not only upon her, but upon the whole company.

The laugh was not to be repressed; and, starting up, with a tremendous oath, the unfortunate Webberly rushed out of the room.

It may be supposed, Selina did not much regret his absence; and in the following dance, Sedley's inimitable caricature of the whole family amply compensated to her for the trifling mortification their vulgarity had occasioned. To use the language of the Morning Post, "The dancing was continued till a late hour, when the company departed, highly gratified by the splendor of the entertainment, the elegance of the hostess, and the unrivalled charms of her accomplished niece."

CHAPTER IX.

Here's another letter to her: she bears the purse too, she is a region in Guiana, all gold and bounty. I will be cheater to them both, and they shall be exchequers to me; they shall be my East and West Indies.

MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.

As fate had hitherto been so unpropitious to young Webberly, and his anxious mama, in their personal interviews with Miss Seymour, they decided, at their next _tete a tete_, which was generally of a much more friendly nature than their public communications, that he should not any longer delay making his proposal in form, which Mrs. Sullivan could not believe she would hesitate in accepting; for, like the monkey in the fable, she thought nothing equalled her own progeny. On this occasion at least, her son implicitly followed her directions; he was aware that his finances were so reduced, he should never be able to stand another London campaign, without some new resource, and the gaming table had lately not been as productive a one as he usually found it. With the a.s.sistance of his sisters, he therefore composed a letter full of darts, and wounds, and happiness, and agitation, and grat.i.tude, and eternity; and "used the arts that lovers use;" in hopes, by the superabundance of his professions, to compensate for his real indifference. For, in truth, he cared only for Selina's fortune, as he actually loved Miss Wildenheim, as much as it was in nature for so selfish a being to love any body. And though he was equally as incapable of justly appreciating her character as of understanding Selina's, yet her talents were so veiled by the calm dignity of the manners, that he felt less intimidated by them than by the brilliant vivacity of Selina's. But, in antic.i.p.ating the possibility of becoming Miss Seymour's husband, he fully, in imagination, indemnified himself for the temporary mortifications her undoubted superiority now occasioned him, by the magnanimous resolution of treating her, when she became his wife, with all possible contempt; believing, as many husbands do in similar situations, that an ostentatious display of authority will persuade others, that the dependent is really the inferior being, like the boy on the ladder, who tramples on that which alone supports him.

Selina and Lady Eltondale were together, when the Viscountess was presented with an enormous packet, sealed with a coat of arms as ample in its expansion as it was modern in its date; "Good Heavens!" exclaimed her Ladys.h.i.+p, holding up the cover, "arms! and the man; here, Selina, the envelope only is for me: your _nouveau riche_ admirer requests I will present to you this inimitable ma.n.u.script." Selina hastily ran over the composition, which had cost some hours to indite; and then, no longer able to keep her countenance, burst into a hearty fit of laughter, while her cheeks mantled with blushes, "Well, at last, Lady Eltondale, here is the promised proposal: I had no idea what a real love letter was--pray read it." "No my dear; excuse me, my dear: all such tender professions are similar, they '_consistent a dire aux femmes avec un esprit leger et une ame de glace, tout ce qu'on ne croit pas, et tout ce qu'on voudrait leur faire croire_[7].' I am much more curious to know what your answer will be."--"A refusal undoubtedly," replied Miss Seymour; "but I must request of you, Lady Eltondale, to convey it for me." "You know, Selina, you are your own mistress; it is unnecessary for me to offer any advice." Selina felt the rebuke; but before she could make any apology, her aunt continued, "In this instance I think you right: t.i.tle, my dear, is the only thing to marry for; it is terrible to be obliged to purchase one's place in society; and even the richest commoners are only valued in proportion to their expenditure; whereas a n.o.bleman maybe as poor and as shabby as he pleases, his wife must always have precedence." "But surely, Lady Eltondale, you would not have me marry for precedence." "It is what ninety-nine girls out of a hundred marry for," resumed the Viscountess, with perfect _sang froid_; "and as I do not see much difference in your character from that of the rest of your s.e.x, I conclude what makes others happy would satisfy you."

"I think," replied Selina, hesitatingly, "I should never be happy, unless I married a man whom I loved and esteemed, and who, I was very sure, loved me." "Ha! ha! ha! very sentimental, indeed! Child, that would do admirably for a novel, but in real life, take my word, such nice distinctions are but little attended to: fine feeling is an essence, that soon evaporates when exposed to common air; it is generally adviseable to have something substantial at bottom, to fill up the phial when the effervescence subsides." "But, is it possible, Lady Eltondale, that you would have me marry a man I could not love or esteem, or who did not love me?" inquired Selina, in a tone of gravity more approaching to censure, than her n.o.ble aunt had ever before heard her use. "Pian! piano! carissima! half your proposition is defensible; and to that half I willingly accede. When a woman marries, the only thing necessary for her to be a.s.sured of, is her own heart, or rather her own mind. Every man, when he asks your hand, will certainly profess to love you; time and experiment can only prove his sincerity, or his steadiness;--but you, with all Mrs. Galton's philosophy in your head, must acknowledge, that all a woman's comfort in life depends on her not knowing the pangs of repentance." "a.s.suredly." "Well then, a woman who marries for love, generally sacrifices nine tenths of her life to a pa.s.sion, that can, at best, last but a few months; and spends her remaining years in regretting her 'fond dream:' but she who calculates well before she marries, and weighs calmly the _pour_ and _contre_ of the lot she chooses for life, can, at all events, never repent the choice, which she made deliberately. But, however, why should we cavil about words, when there is not a chance of our ever dissenting in action?" Then reaching out her beautiful hand to Selina, with a bewitching smile, "Come, my love," added she, "tell me what I am to say for you to your _inamorato_." And then, by Selina's dictation, she returned a polite, but positive refusal to the obsequious Webberly.