Emmeline Part 7

Fitz-Edward, obliged to go to Ireland to his regiment for some time, had taken leave of them; and the impatience of Lord Montreville to return to town was encreased by repeated letters from his wife.

Delamere however still evaded it; hoping that his father would set out without him, and that he should by that means have an opportunity of going to Bridgenorth, where he determined to solicit Emmeline to consent to a Scottish expedition, and persuaded himself he should not meet a refusal.

At length Lady Montreville, yet more alarmed at the delay, directed her eldest daughter to write to his Lords.h.i.+p, and to give such an account of her health as should immediately oblige the father and son to return.

Delamere, after such a letter, could not refuse to depart; and comforting himself that he might be able soon to escape from the observation of his family, and put his project in execution, he consented to begin his journey. He determined, however, to write to Miss Mowbray, and to desire her to direct her answer under cover to a friend in London.

He did so; and addressed it to her at Mrs. Watkins's, at Bridgenorth: but soon after his arrival in town, the letter was returned to the place from which it was dated; having been opened at the office in consequence of no such person as Miss Mowbray or Mrs. Watkins being to be found there.

Delamere saw he had been deceived; but to complain was fruitless: he had therefore no hope of discovering where Emmeline was, but by lying in wait for some accidental intelligence.

The family usually pa.s.sed the Christmas recess at their seat in Norfolk; whither Delamere, who at first tried to avoid being of the party, at length agreed to accompany them, on condition of his being allowed to perform an engagement he had made with Mr. Percival for a fortnight.

Part of this time he determined to employ in seeing Headly, who did not live above thirty miles from thence; hoping from him to obtain intelligence of Emmeline's abode. And that no suspicion might remain on the mind of his father, he affected to rea.s.sume his usual gaiety, and was to all appearance as volatile and dissipated as ever.

While the family were in Norfolk, their acquaintance was warmly renewed with that of Sir Francis Devereux, who was lately returned from a residence on the Continent, whither he had been to compleat the education of his two daughters, heiresses to his fortune, on the embellishment of whose persons and manners all the modern elegancies of education had been lavished.

They were rather pretty women; and of a family almost as ancient and ill.u.s.trious as that of Mr. Delamere. Their fortunes were to be immense; and either of them would have been a wife for Delamere, the choice of whom would greatly have gratified the families on both sides.

Infinite pains were taken to bring the young people frequently together; and both the ladies seemed to allow that Delamere was a conquest worthy their ambition.

As he never refused to entertain them with every appearance of gallantry and vivacity, Lord Montreville flattered himself that at length Emmeline was forgotten; and ventured to propose to his son, a marriage with whichever of the Miss Devereux's he should prefer.

To which, Delamere, who had long foreseen the proposal, answered coldly, 'that he was not inclined to marry at all; or if he did, it should not be one of those over-educated puppets.'

So far were their acquisitions from having made any impression on his heart, that the frivolous turn of their minds, the studied ornaments of their persons, and the affected refinement of their manners, made him only recollect with more pa.s.sionate admiration, that native elegance of person and mind which he had seen only in the Orphan of Mowbray Castle.

CHAPTER VII

There was, in the person and manner of Emmeline, something so interesting, that those who were little accustomed to attach themselves to any one, were insensibly disposed to love her, and to become solicitous for her welfare.

Even the insensibility with which long and uninterrupted prosperity had encased the heart of Lord Montreville, was not entirely proof against her attractive powers; and when he no longer apprehended the effect of her encreasing charms on his son, he suffered himself to feel a degree of pity and even of affection for her.

He therefore heard with pleasure that she was contented in her present situation; and was convinced she had kept her word in not giving any intelligence of her residence to Delamere. To shew his approbation of her conduct, he directed a person in town to send her down a small collection of books; some materials for drawing; and other trifles which he thought would be acceptable.

Emmeline, charmed with such acquisitions, felt the most lively grat.i.tude for her benefactor; and having fitted up her little cabin extremely to her satisfaction; she found, in the occupation these presents afforded her, all that she wished, to engage her attention; and gratify her taste.

Sensible of the defects of her education, she applied incessantly to her books; for of every useful and ornamental feminine employment she had long since made herself mistress without any instruction.

She endeavoured to cultivate a genius for drawing, which she inherited from her father; but for want of knowing a few general rules, what she produced had more of elegance and neatness than correctness and knowledge.

She knew nothing of the science of music; but her voice was soft and sweet, and her ear exquisite. The simple songs, therefore, she had acquired by it, she sung with a pathos which made more impression on her hearers than those studied graces learned by long application, which excite wonder rather than pleasure.

Time, thus occupied, pa.s.sed lightly away; Spring arrived almost imperceptibly, and brought again weather which enabled Emmeline to rea.s.sume her walks along the sh.o.r.e or among the rocks, and to indulge that contemplative turn of mind which she had acquired in the solitude of Mowbray Castle.

It was on a beautiful morning of the month of April, that, taking a book with her as usual, she went down to the sea side, and sat reading for some hours; when, just as she was about to return home, she saw a lovely little boy, about five years old, wandering towards the place where she was, picking up sh.e.l.ls and sea weeds, and appearing to be so deeply engaged in his infantine pursuit, that he did not see her 'till she spoke to him.

'Whose sweet little boy are you, my love?' said she.

The child looked at her with surprise.

'I am my mamma's boy,' said he, 'and so is Henry,' pointing towards another who now approached, and who seemed hardly a year younger.

The second running up to his brother, caught his hand, and they both walked away together, looking behind at the strange lady with some degree of alarm.

Their dress convinced Emmeline that they belonged to a stranger; and as they seemed to have n.o.body with them, she was under some apprehension for their safety, and therefore arose to follow them, when on turning round the point of a rock whose projection had concealed the sh.o.r.e to the left, she saw a lady walking slowly before her, whom the two little boys had now rejoined. In her hand she held a little girl, who seemed only learning to walk; and she was followed by a nursery maid, who held in her arms another, yet an infant at the breast.

The stranger, near whom Emmeline was obliged to pa.s.s, curtsyed to her as she went by. And if Emmeline was surprised at the early appearance of company at a time when she knew it to be so unusual, the stranger was much more so at the uncommon elegance of her form and manner: she was almost tempted to believe the fable of the sea nymphs, and to fancy her one of them.

Emmeline, on regaining her apartment, heard from the hostess, whom she found with another neighbour, that the lady she had seen arrived the evening before, and had taken lodgings at the house of the latter, with an intention of staying great part of the summer.

The next day Emmeline again met the stranger; who accosting the fair orphan with all that ease which characterises the address of those who have lived much in good company, they soon entered into conversation, and Emmeline almost as soon discovered that her new acquaintance possessed an understanding as excellent as her person and address were captivating.

She appeared to be not more than five or six and twenty: but her person seemed to have suffered from sorrow that diminution of its charms, which time could not yet have effected. Her complexion was faded and wan; her eyes had lost their l.u.s.tre; and a pensive and languid expression sat on her countenance.

After the first conversation, the two ladies found they liked each other so well, that they met by agreement every day. Emmeline generally went early to the lodgings of Mrs. Stafford, and stayed the whole day with her; charmed to have found in her new friend, one who could supply to her all the deficiencies of her former instructors.

To a very superior understanding, Mrs. Stafford added the advantages of a polished education, and all that ease of manner, which the commerce of fas.h.i.+on can supply. She had read a great deal; and her mind, originally elegant and refined, was highly cultivated, and embellished with all the knowledge that could be acquired from the best authors in the modern languages. Her disposition seemed to have been naturally chearful; for a ray of vivacity would frequently light up her countenance, and a lively and agreeable conversation call forth all its animated gaiety. But it seldom lasted long. Some settled uneasiness lay lurking in her heart; and when it recurred forcibly to her, as it frequently did in the midst of the most interesting discourse, a cloud of sorrow obscured the brilliancy of her countenance and language, and she became pensive, silent, and absent.

Emmeline observed this with concern; but was not yet intimate enough with her to enquire or discover the cause.

Sometimes, when she was herself occupied in drawing, or some other pursuit in which Mrs. Stafford delighted to instruct her, she saw that her friend, believing herself un.o.bserved, gave way to all the melancholy that oppressed her heart; and as her children were playing round her, she would gaze mournfully on them 'till the tears streamed down her cheeks.

By degrees the utmost confidence took place between them on every subject but one: Mrs. Stafford never dwelt on the cause, whatever it was, which occasioned her to be so frequently uneasy; nor did she ever complain of being so: but she listened with the warmest interest to the little tale Emmeline had to relate, and told her in return as much of her own history as she thought it necessary for her to know.

Emmeline found that she was not a widow, as she had at first supposed; for she spoke sometimes of her husband, and said she expected him at Swansea. She had been married at a very early age; and they now generally resided at an house which Mr. Stafford's father, who was still living, had purchased for them in Dorsets.h.i.+re.

'I came hither,' said she, 'thus early in the year, at Mr. Stafford's request, who is fond of improvements and alterations, and who intends this summer to add considerably to our house; which is already too large, I think, for our present fortune. I was glad to get away from the confusion of workmen, to which I have an aversion; and anxious to let Charles and Henry, who had the measles in the Autumn and who have been frequently ill since, have a long course of sea-bathing. I might indeed have gone to Weymouth or some nearer place; but I wish to avoid general company, which I could not have done where I am sure of meeting so many of my acquaintance. I rejoice now at my preference of Swansea, since it has been the means of my knowing you, my dear Emmeline.'

'And I, Madam,' returned Emmeline, 'have reason to consider the concurrence of circ.u.mstances that brought you here as the most fortunate for me. Yet I own to you, that the charm of such society is accompanied with great pain, in antic.i.p.ating the hour when I must again return to that solitude I have 'till now considered as my greatest enjoyment.'

'Ah! my dear girl!' replied Mrs. Stafford, 'check in its first appearance a propensity which I see you frequently betray, to antic.i.p.ate displeasing or unfortunate events. When you have lived a few years longer, you will, I fear, learn, that every day has evils enough of its own, and that it is well for us we know nothing of those which are yet to come. I speak from experience; for I, when not older than you now are, had a perpetual tendency to fancy future calamities, and embittered by that means many of those hours which would otherwise have been really happy. Yet has not my pre-sentiments, tho' most of them have been unhappily verified, enabled me to avoid one of those thorns with which my path has been thickly strewn.'

Emmeline hoped now to hear what hand had strewn them.

Mrs. Stafford, sighing deeply, fell into a reverie; and continuing long silent, Emmeline could not resolve to renew a conversation so evidently painful to her.

It was now six weeks since she had first seen Mrs. Stafford, and the hours had pa.s.sed in a series of felicity of which she had 'till then formed no idea.

Mrs. Stafford, delighted with the lively attachment of her young friend, was charmed to find herself capable of adorning her ingenuous and tender mind with all that knowledge which books or the world had qualified her to impart.

They read together every day: Emmeline, under the tuition of her charming preceptress, had made some progress in French and Italian; and she was amazed at her own success in drawing since she had received from Mrs. Stafford rules of which she was before ignorant.

As the summer advanced, a few stragglers came in, and it was no longer wonderful to see a stranger. But Mrs. Stafford and Miss Mowbray, perfectly satisfied with each other, sought not to enlarge their society. They sometimes held short conversations with the transient visitants of the place, but more usually avoided those walks where it was likely they should meet them.

Early one morning, they were returning from the bathing place together, m.u.f.fled up in their morning dresses. They had seen at a distance two gentlemen, whom they did not particularly notice; and Emmeline, leaning on the arm of her friend, was again antic.i.p.ating all she should suffer when the hour came which would separate them, and recollecting the different company and conversation to which she had been condemned from the death of Mrs. Carey to her quitting Mowbray Castle--