CHAPTER LXIX. A Little Innocent
George Warrington has mentioned in the letter just quoted, that in spiteof my Lord Castlewood's previous play transactions with Harry, my lordand George remained friends, and met on terms of good kinsmanship. DidGeorge want franks, or an introduction at court, or a place in the Houseof Lords to hear a debate, his cousin was always ready to serve him,was a pleasant and witty companion, and would do anything which mightpromote his relative's interests, provided his own were not prejudiced.
Now he even went so far as to promise that he would do his best with thepeople in power to provide a place for Mr. George Warrington, who dailyshowed a greater disinclination to return to his native country, andplace himself once more under the maternal servitude. George had notmerely a sentimental motive for remaining in England: the pursuits andsociety of London pleased him infinitely better than any which he couldhave at home. A planter's life of idleness might have suited him, couldhe have enjoyed independence with it. But in Virginia he was only thefirst, and, as he thought, the worst treated, of his mother's subjects.He dreaded to think of returning with his young bride to his home, andof the life which she would be destined to lead there. Better freedomand poverty in England, with congenial society, and a hope perchance offuture distinction, than the wearisome routine of home life, the tedioussubordination, the frequent bickerings, the certain jealousies anddifferences of opinion, to which he must subject his wife so soon asthey turned their faces homeward.
So Lord Castlewood's promise to provide for George was very eagerlyaccepted by the Virginian. My lord had not provided very well forhis own brother to be sure, and his own position, peer as he was, wasanything but enviable; but we believe what we wish to believe, andGeorge Warrington chose to put great stress upon his kinsman's offerof patronage. Unlike the Warrington family, Lord Castlewood was quitegracious when he was made acquainted with George's engagement to MissLambert; came to wait upon her parents; praised George to them and theyoung lady to George, and made himself so prodigiously agreeable intheir company that these charitable folk forgot his bad reputation, andthought it must be a very wicked and scandalous world which malignedhim. He said, indeed, that he was improved in their society, as everyman must be who came into it. Among them he was witty, lively, good forthe time being. He left his wickedness and worldliness with his cloakin the hall, and only put them on again when he stepped into his chair.What worldling on life's voyage does not know of some such harbour ofrest and calm, some haven where he puts in out of the storm? Very likelyLord Castlewood was actually better whilst he stayed with those goodpeople, and for the time being at least no hypocrite.
And, I dare say, the Lambert elders thought no worse of his lordship foropenly proclaiming his admiration for Miss Theo. It was quite genuine,and he did not profess it was very deep.
"It don't affect my sleep, and I am not going to break my heart becauseMiss Lambert prefers somebody else," he remarked. Only I wish when I wasa young man, madam, I had had the good fortune to meet with somebody soinnocent and good as your daughter. I might have been kept out of a dealof harm's way: but innocent and good young women did not fall into mine,or they would have made me better than I am."
"Sure, my lord, it is not too late!" says Mrs. Lambert, very softly.
Castlewood started back, misunderstanding her.
"Not too late, madam?" he inquired.
She blushed. "It is too late to court my dear daughter, my lord, but nottoo late to repent. We read, 'tis never too late to do that. If othershave been received at the eleventh hour, is there any reason why youshould give up hope?"
"Perhaps I know my own heart better than you," he says in a plaintivetone. "I can speak French and German very well, and why? because I wastaught both in the nursery. A man who learns them late can never get thepractice of them on his tongue. And so 'tis the case with goodness, Ican't learn it at my age. I can only see others practise it, and admirethem. When I am on--on the side opposite to Lazarus, will Miss Theo giveme a drop of water? Don't frown! I know I shall be there, Mrs. Lambert.Some folks are doomed so; and I think some of our family are amongstthese. Some people are vacillating, and one hardly knows which waythe scale will turn. Whereas some are predestined angels, and flyHeavenwards naturally, and do what they will."
"Oh, my lord, and why should you not be of the predestined? Whilst thereis a day left--whilst there is an hour--there is hope!" says the fondmatron.
"I know what is passing in your mind, my dear madam--nay, I read yourprayers in your looks; but how can they avail?" Lord Castlewood askedsadly. "You don't know all, my good lady. You don't know what a lifeours is of the world; how early it began; how selfish Nature, and thennecessity and education, have made us. It is Fate holds the reins ofthe chariot, and we can't escape our doom. I know better: I see betterpeople: I go my own way. My own? No, not mine--Fate's: and it is notaltogether without pity for us, since it allows us, from time to time,to see such people as you." And he took her hand and looked her fullin the face, and bowed with a melancholy grace. Every word he saidwas true. No greater error than to suppose that weak and bad men arestrangers to good feelings, or deficient of sensibility. Only thegood feeling does not last--nay, the tears are a kind of debauch ofsentiment, as old libertines are said to find that the tears and griefof their victims add a zest to their pleasure. But Mrs. Lambert knewlittle of what was passing in this man's mind (how should she?), andso prayed for him with the fond persistence of woman. He was muchbetter--yes, much better than he was supposed to be. He was a mostinteresting man. There were hopes, why should there not be the mostprecious hopes for him still?
It remains to be seen which of the two speakers formed the correctestimate of my lord's character. Meanwhile, if the gentleman wasright, the lady was mollified, and her kind wishes and prayers forthis experienced sinner's repentance, if they were of no avail for hisamendment, at least could do him no harm. Kind-souled doctors (and whatgood woman is not of the faculty?) look after a reprobate as physiciansafter a perilous case. When the patient is converted to health theirinterest ceases in him, and they drive to feel pulses and prescribemedicines elsewhere.
But, while the malady was under treatment, our kind lady could not seetoo much of her sick man. Quite an intimacy sprung up between my LordCastlewood and the Lamberts. I am not sure that some worldly views mightnot suit even with good Mrs. Lambert's spiritual plans (for whoknows into what pure Eden, though guarded by flaming-sworded angels,worldliness will not creep?). Her son was about to take orders. My LordCastlewood feared very much that his present chaplain's, Mr. Sampson's,careless life and heterodox conversations might lead him to give up hischaplaincy: in which case, my lord hinted the little modest cure wouldbe vacant, and at the service of some young divine of good principlesand good manners, who would be content with a small stipend, and a smallbut friendly congregation.
Thus an acquaintance was established between the two families, and theladies of Castlewood, always on their good behaviour, came more thanonce to make their curtseys in Mrs. Lambert's drawing-room. They werecivil to the parents and the young ladies. My Lady Castlewood's cardassemblies were open to Mrs. Lambert and her family. There was play,certainly--all the world played--his Majesty, the Bishops, every Peerand Peeress in the land. But nobody need play who did not like; andsurely nobody need have scruples regarding the practice, when suchaugust and venerable personages were daily found to abet it. More thanonce Mrs. Lambert made her appearance at her ladyship's routs, andwas grateful for the welcome which she received, and pleased with theadmiration which her daughters excited.
Mention has been made, in a foregoing page and letter, of an Americanfamily of Dutch extraction, who had come to England very stronglyrecommended by Madam Esmond, their Virginian neighbour, to her sons inEurope. The views expressed in Madam Esmond's letter were so clear, thatthat arch match-maker, Mrs. Lambert, could not but understand them. Asfor George, he was engaged already; as for poor Hetty's flame, Harry, hewas gone on service, for which ci
rcumstance Hetty's mother was not verysorry perhaps. She laughingly told George that he ought to obey hismamma's injunctions, break off his engagement with Theo, and make up toMiss Lydia, who was ten times--ten times! a hundred times as rich asher poor girl, and certainly much handsomer. "Yes, indeed," says George,"that I own: she is handsomer, and she is richer, and perhaps evencleverer." (All which praises Mrs. Lambert but half liked.) "But sayshe is all these? So is Mr. Johnson much cleverer than I am: so is, whomshall we say?--so is Mr. Hagan the actor much taller and handsomer: sois Sir James Lowther much richer: yet pray, ma'am, do you suppose I amgoing to be jealous of any one of these three, or think my Theo wouldjilt me for their sakes? Why should I not allow that Miss Lydia ishandsomer, then? and richer, and clever, too, and lively, and well bred,if you insist on it, and an angel if you will have it so? Theo is notafraid: art thou, child?"
"No, George," says Theo, with such an honest look of the eyes as wouldconvince any scepticism, or shame any jealousy. And if, after this pairof speeches, mamma takes occasion to leave the room for a minute tofetch her scissors, or her thimble, or a bootjack and slippers, or thecross and ball on the top of St. Paul's, or her pocket-handkerchiefwhich she has forgotten in the parlour--if, I say, Mrs. Lambert quitsthe room on any errand or pretext, natural or preposterous, I shall notbe in the least surprised, if, at her return in a couple of minutes, shefinds George in near proximity to Theo, who has a heightened colour, andwhose hand George is just dropping--I shall not have the least idea ofwhat they have been doing. Have you, madam? Have you any remembrance ofwhat used to happen when Mr. Grundy came a-courting? Are you, who, afterall, were not in the room with our young people, going to cry out fieand for shame? Then fie and for shame upon you, Mrs. Grundy!
Well, Harry being away, and Theo and George irrevocably engaged, sothat there was no possibility of bringing Madam Esmond's little plans tobear, why should not Mrs. Lambert have plans of her own; and if a rich,handsome, beautiful little wife should fall in his way, why shouldnot Jack Lambert from Oxford have her? So thinks mamma, who was alwaysthinking of marrying and giving in marriage, and so she prattles toGeneral Lambert, who, as usual, calls her a goose for her pains. At anyrate, Mrs. Lambert says beauty and riches are no objection; at any rate,Madam Esmond desired that this family should be hospitably entertained,and it was not her fault that Harry was gone away to Canada. Wouldthe General wish him to come back; leave the army and his reputation,perhaps; yes, and come to England and marry this American, and breakpoor Hetty's heart--would her father wish that? Let us spare furtherarguments, and not be so rude as to hint that Mr. Lambert was in theright in calling a fond wife by the name of that absurd splay-footedbird, annually sacrificed at the Feast of St. Michael.
In those early days, there were vast distinctions of rank drawn betweenthe court and city people: and Mr. Van den Bosch, when he first cameto London, scarcely associated with any but the latter sort. He had alodging near his agent's in the city. When his pretty girl came fromschool for a holiday, he took her an airing to Islington or Highgate, oran occasional promenade in the Artillery Ground in Bunhill Fields. Theywent to that Baptist meeting-house in Finsbury Fields, and on the slyto see Mr. Garrick once or twice, or that funny rogue Mr. Foote, atthe Little Theatre. To go to a Lord Mayor's feast was a treat to thegentleman of the highest order: and to dance with a young mercer atHampstead Assembly. gave the utmost delight to the young lady. WhenGeorge first went to wait upon his mother's friends, he found our oldacquaintance, Mr. Draper, of the Temple, sedulous in his attentions toher; and the lawyer, who was married, told Mr. Warrington to look out,as the young lady had a plumb to her fortune. Mr. Drabshaw, a youngQuaker gentleman, and nephew of Mr. Trail, Madam Esmond's Bristol agent,was also in constant attendance upon the young lady, and in dreadfulalarm and suspicion when Mr. Warrington first made his appearance.Wishing to do honour to his mother's neighbours, Mr. Warrington invitedthem to an entertainment at his own apartments; and who should sonaturally meet them as his friends from Soho? Not one of them but wasforced to own little Miss Lydia's beauty. She had the foot of a fairy:the arms, neck, flashing eyes of a little brown huntress of Diana. Shehad brought a little plaintive accent from home with her--of which I,moi qui vous parle, have heard a hundred gross Cockney imitations, andwatched as many absurd disguises, and which I say (in moderation)is charming in the mouth of a charming woman. Who sets up to say No,forsooth? You dear Miss Whittington, with whose h's fate has dealt sounkindly?--you lovely Miss Nicol Jarvie, with your northern burr?--youbeautiful Miss Molony, with your Dame Street warble? All accents arepretty from pretty lips, and who shall set the standard up? Shall it bea rose, or a thistle, or a shamrock, or a star and stripe? As for MissLydia's accent, I have no doubt it was not odious even from the firstday when she set foot on these polite shores, otherwise Mr. Warrington,as a man of taste, had certainly disapproved of her manner of talking,and her schoolmistress at Kensington had not done her duty by her pupil.
After the six months were over, during which, according to her father'scalculation, she was to learn all the accomplishments procurable at theKensington Academy, Miss Lydia returned nothing loth to her grandfather,and took her place in the world. A narrow world at first it was to her;but she was a resolute little person, and resolved to enlarge hersphere in society; and whither she chose to lead the way, the obedientgrandfather followed her. He had been thwarted himself in early life, hesaid, and little good came of the severity he underwent. He had thwartedhis own son, who had turned out but ill. As for little Lyddy, he wasdetermined she should have as pleasant a life as was possible. Did notMr. George think he was right? 'Twas said in Virginia--he did notknow with what reason--that the young gentlemen of Castlewood had beenhappier if Madam Esmond had allowed them a little of their own way.George could not gainsay this public rumour, or think of inducingthe benevolent old gentleman to alter his plans respecting hisgranddaughter. As for the Lambert family, how could they do otherwisethan welcome the kind old man, the parent so tender and liberal, MadamEsmond's good friend?
When Miss came from school, grandpapa removed from Monument Yard toan elegant house in Bloomsbury; whither they were followed at first bytheir city friends. There were merchants from Virginia Walk; there wereworthy tradesmen, with whom the worthy old merchant had dealings; therewere their ladies and daughters and sons, who were all highly graciousto Miss Lyddy. It would be a long task to describe how these disappearedone by one--how there were no more junketings at Belsize, or tripsto Highgate, or Saturday jaunts to Deputy Higgs' villa, Highbury, orcountry-dances at honest Mr. Lutestring's house at Hackney. Even theSunday practice was changed; and, oh, abomination of abominations! Mr.Van den Bosch left Bethesda Chapel in Bunhill Row, and actually took apew in Queen Square Church!
Queen Square Church, and Mr. George Warrington lived hard by inSouthampton Row! 'Twas easy to see at whom Miss Lyddy was setting hercap, and Mr. Draper, who had been full of her and her grandfather'spraises before, now took occasion to warn Mr. George, and gave him verydifferent reports regarding Mr. Van den Bosch to those which hadfirst been current. Mr. Van d. B., for all he bragged so of his Dutchparentage, came from Albany, and was nobody's son at all. He had madehis money by land speculation, or by privateering (which was uncommonlylike piracy), and by the Guinea trade. His son had married--if marriageit could be called, which was very doubtful--an assigned servant, andhad been cut off by his father, and had taken to bad courses, and haddied, luckily for himself, in his own bed.
"Mr. Draper has told you bad tales about me," said the placid oldgentleman to George. "Very likely we are all sinners, and some evil maybe truly said of all of us, with a great deal more that is untrue. Didhe tell you that my son was unhappy with me? I told you so too. Did hebring you wicked stories about my family? He liked it so well that hewanted to marry my Lyddy to his brother. Heaven bless her! I have had amany offers for her. And you are the young gentleman I should have chosefor her, and I like you none the worse because you prefer somebody else;though what you c
an see in your Miss, as compared to my Lyddy, beggingyour honour's pardon, I am at a loss to understand."
"There is no accounting for tastes, my good sir," said Mr. George, withhis most superb air.
"No, sir; 'tis a wonder of nature, and daily happens. When I kept storeto Albany, there was one of your tiptop gentry there that might havemarried my dear daughter that was alive then, and with a pretty pieceof money, whereby--for her father and I had quarrelled--Miss Lyddy wouldhave been a pauper, you see: and in place of my beautiful Bella, mygentleman chooses a little homely creature, no prettier than your Miss,and without a dollar to her fortune. The more fool he, saving yourpresence, Mr. George."
"Pray don't save my presence, my good sir," says George, laughing. "Isuppose the gentleman's word was given to the other lady, and he hadseen her first, and hence was indifferent to your charming daughter."
"I suppose when a young fellow gives his word to perform a cursed pieceof folly, he always sticks to it, my dear sir, begging your pardon. ButLord, Lord, what am I speaking of? I am aspeaking of twenty year ago. Iwas well-to-do then, but I may say Heaven has blessed my store, and I amthree times as well off now. Ask my agents how much they will give forJoseph Van den Bosch's bill at six months on New York--or at sight maybe for forty thousand pound? I warrant they will discount the paper."
"Happy he who has the bill, sir!" says George, with a bow, not a littleamused with the candour of the old gentleman.
"Lord, Lord, how mercenary you young men are!" cries the elder, simply."Always thinking about money nowadays! Happy he who has the girl, Ishould say--the money ain't the question, my dear sir, when it goesalong with such a lovely young thing as that--though I humbly say it,who oughtn't, and who am her fond silly old grandfather. We were talkingabout you, Lyddy darling--come, give me a kiss, my blessing! We weretalking about you, and Mr. George said he wouldn't take you with all themoney your poor old grandfather can give you."
"Nay, sir," says George.
"Well, you are right to say nay, for I didn't say all, that's the truth.My Blessing will have a deal more than that trifle I spoke of, when itshall please Heaven to remove me out of this world to a better--whenpoor old Gappy is gone, Lyddy will be a rich little Lyddy, that shewill. But she don't wish me to go yet, does she?"
"Oh, you darling dear grandpapa!" says Lyddy.
"This young gentleman won't have you." (Lyddy looks an arch "Thank you,sir," from her brown eyes.) "But at any rate he is honest, and thatis more than we can say of some folks in this wicked London. Oh, Lord,Lord, how mercenary they are! Do you know that yonder, in Monument Yard,they were all at my poor little Blessing for her money? There wasTom Lutestring; there was Mr. Draper, your precious lawyer; there wasactually Mr. Tubbs, of Bethesda Chapel; and they must all come buzzinglike flies round the honey-pot. That is why we came out of the quarterwhere my brother-tradesmen live."
"To avoid the flies,--to be sure!" says Miss Lydia, tossing up herlittle head.
"Where my brother-tradesmen live," continues the old gentleman. "Elsewho am I to think of consorting with your grandees and fine folk? Idon't care for the fashions, Mr. George; I don't care for plays andpoetry, begging your honour's pardon; I never went to a play in my life,but to please this little minx."
"Oh, sir, 'twas lovely! and I cried so, didn't I, grandpapa?" says thechild.
"At what, my dear?"
"At--at Mr. Warrington's play, grandpapa."
"Did you, my dear? I dare say; I dare say! It was mail day: and myletters had come in: and my ship the Lovely Lyddy had just come intoFalmouth; and Captain Joyce reported how he had mercifully escaped aFrench privateer; and my head was so full of thanks for that escape,which saved me a deal of money, Mr. George--for the rate at which shipsis underwrote this war-time is so scandalous that I often prefer toventure than to insure--that I confess I didn't listen much to the play,sir, and only went to please this little Lyddy."
"And you did please me, dearest Gappy!" cries the young lady.
"Bless you! then it's all I want. What does a man want more here belowthan to please his children, Mr. George? especially me, who knew whatwas to be unhappy when I was young, and to repent of having treated thisdarling's father too hard."
"Oh, grandpapa!" cries the child, with more caresses.
"Yes, I was too hard with him, dear; and that's why I spoil my littleLydkin so!"
More kisses ensue between Lyddy and Gappy. The little creature flingsthe pretty polished arms round the old man's neck, presses the dark redlips on his withered cheek, surrounds the venerable head with a halo ofpowder beaten out of his wig by her caresses; and eyes Mr. George thewhile, as much as to say, There, sir! should you not like me to do asmuch for you?
We confess;--but do we confess all? George certainly told the story ofhis interview with Lyddy and Gappy, and the old man's news regarding hisgranddaughter's wealth; but I don't think he told everything; else Theowould scarce have been so much interested, or so entirely amused andgood-humoured with Lyddy when next the two young ladies met.
They met now pretty frequently, especially after the old Americangentleman took up his residence in Bloomsbury. Mr. Van den Bosch wasin the city for the most part of the day, attending to his affairs, andappearing at his place upon 'Change. During his absence Lyddy had thecommand of the house, and received her guests there like a lady, or rodeabroad in a fine coach, which she ordered her grandpapa to keep for her,and into which he could very seldom be induced to set his foot. Beforelong Miss Lyddy was as easy in the coach as if she had ridden in oneall her life. She ordered the domestics here and there; she drove to themercer's and the jeweller's, and she called upon her friends with theutmost stateliness, or rode abroad with them to take the air. Theo andHetty were both greatly diverted with her: but would the elder have beenquite as well pleased had she known all Miss Lyddy's doings? Not thatTheo was of a jealous disposition,--far otherwise; but there are caseswhen a lady has a right to a little jealousy, as I maintain, whatever myfair readers may say to the contrary.
It was because she knew he was engaged, very likely, that Miss Lyddypermitted herself to speak so frankly in Mr. George's praise. When theywere alone--and this blessed chance occurred pretty often at Mr. Van denBosch's house, for we have said he was constantly absent on one errandor the other--it was wonderful how artlessly the little creature wouldshow her enthusiasm, asking him all sorts of simple questions abouthimself, his genius, his way of life at home and in London, his projectsof marriage, and so forth.
"I am glad you are going to be married, oh, so glad!" she would say,heaving the most piteous sigh the while; "for I can talk to you frankly,quite frankly as a brother, and not be afraid of that odious politenessabout which they were always scolding me at boarding-school. I may speakto you frankly; and if I like you, I may say so, mayn't I, Mr. George?"
"Pray, say so," says George, with a bow and a smile. "That is a kind oftalk which most men delight to hear, especially from such pretty lips asMiss Lydia's."
"What do you know about my lips?" says the girl, with a pout and aninnocent look into his face.
"What, indeed?" asks George. "Perhaps I should like to know a great dealmore."
"They don't tell nothin' but truth, anyhow!" says the girl; "that's whysome people don't like them! If I have anything on my mind, it mustcome out. I am a country-bred girl, I am--with my heart in my mouth--allhonesty and simplicity; not like your English girls, who have learned Idon't know what at their boarding-schools, and from the men afterwards."
"Our girls are monstrous little hypocrites, indeed!" cries George.
"You are thinking of Miss Lamberts? and I might have thought of them;but I declare I did not then. They have been at boarding-school; theyhave been in the world a great deal--so much the greater pity for them,for be certain they learned no good there. And now I have said so, ofcourse you will go and tell Miss Theo, won't you, sir?"
"That she has learned no good in the world? She has scarce spoken to menat all, except her father, her br
other, and me. Which of us would teachher any wrong, think you?"
"Oh, not you! Though I can understand its being very dangerous to bewith you!" says the girl, with a sigh.
"Indeed there is no danger, and I don't bite!" says George, laughing.
"I didn't say bite," says the girl, softly. "There's other thingsdangerous besides biting, I should think. Aren't you very witty? Yes,and sarcastic, and clever, and always laughing at people? Haven't youa coaxing tongue? If you was to look at me in that kind of way, I don'tknow what would come to me. Was your brother like you, as I was to havemarried? Was he as clever and witty as you? I have heard he was likeyou: but he hadn't your coaxing tongue. Heigho! 'Tis well you areengaged, Master George, that is all. Do you think if you had seen mefirst, you would have liked Miss Theo best?"
"They say marriages were made in Heaven, my dear, and let us trust thatmine has been arranged there," says George.
"I suppose there was no such thing never known, as a man having twosweethearts?" asks the artless little maiden. "Guess it's a pity. O me!What nonsense I'm a-talking; there now! I'm like the little girl whocried for the moon; and I can't have it. 'Tis too high for me--toohigh and splendid and shining: can't reach up to it nohow. Well, whata foolish, wayward, little spoilt thing I am now! But one thing youpromise.-on your word and your honour, now, Mr. George?"
"And what is that?"
"That you won't tell Miss Theo, else she'll hate me."
"Why should she hate you?"
"Because I hate her, and wish she was dead!" breaks out the young lady.And the eyes that were looking so gentle and lachrymose but now, flamewith sudden wrath, and her cheeks flush up. "For shame!" she adds, aftera pause. "I'm a little fool to speak! But whatever is in my heart mustcome out. I am a girl of the woods, I am. I was bred where the sun ishotter than in this foggy climate. And I am not like your cold Englishgirls; who, before they speak, or think, or feel, must wait for mamma togive leave. There, there! I may be a little fool for saying what I have.I know you'll go and tell Miss Lambert. Well, do!"
But, as we have said, George didn't tell Miss Lambert. Even from thebeloved person there must be some things kept secret; even to himself,perhaps, he did not quite acknowledge what was the meaning of the littlegirl's confession; or, if he acknowledged it, did not act on it; exceptin so far as this, perhaps, that my gentleman, in Miss Lydia's presence,was particularly courteous and tender; and in her absence thought of hervery kindly, and always with a certain pleasure. It were hard, indeed,if a man might not repay by a little kindness and gratitude the artlessaffection of such a warm young heart.
What was that story meanwhile which came round to our friends, of youngMr. Lutestring and young Mr. Drabshaw the Quaker having a boxing-matchat a tavern in the city, and all about this young lady? They fellout over their cups, and fought probably. Why did Mr. Draper, who hadpraised her so at first, tell such stories now against her grandfather?"I suspect," says Madame de Bernstein, "that he wants the girl for someclient or relation of his own; and that he tells these tales in order tofrighten all suitors from her. When she and her grandfather came to me,she behaved perfectly well; and I confess, sir, I thought it was a greatpity that you should prefer yonder red-cheeked countrified little chit,without a halfpenny, to this pretty, wild, artless girl, with such afortune as I hear she has."
"Oh, she has been with you, has she, aunt?" asks George of his relative.
"Of course she has been with me," the other replies, curtly. "Unlessyour brother has been so silly as to fall in love with that other littleLambert girl----"
"Indeed, ma'am, I think I can say he has not," George remarks.
"Why, then, when he comes back with Mr. Wolfe, should he not takea fancy to this little person, as his mamma wishes--only, to do usjustice, we Esmonds care very little for what our mammas wish--and marryher, and set up beside you in Virginia? She is to have a great fortune,which you won't touch. Pray, why should it go out of the family?"
George now learned that Mr. Van den Bosch and his granddaughter had beenoften at Madame de Bernstein's house. Taking his favourite walk with hisfavourite companion to Kensington Gardens, he saw Mr. Van den Bosch'schariot turning into Kensington Square. The Americans were going tovisit Lady Castlewood, then? He found, on some little inquiry, that theyhad been more than once with her ladyship. It was, perhaps, strangethat they should have said nothing of their visits to George; but, beinglittle curious of other people's affairs, and having no intrigues ormysteries of his own, George was quite slow to imagine them inother people. What mattered to him how often Kensington entertainedBloomsbury, or Bloomsbury made its bow at Kensington?
A number of things were happening at both places, of which our Virginianhad not the slightest idea. Indeed, do not things happen under our eyes,and we not see them? Are not comedies and tragedies daily performedbefore us of which we understand neither the fun nor the pathos? Verylikely George goes home thinking to himself, "I have made an impressionon the heart of this young creature. She has almost confessed as much.Poor artless little maiden! I wonder what there is in me that she shouldlike me?" Can he be angry with her for this unlucky preference? Was evera man angry at such a reason? He would not have been so well pleased,perhaps, had he known all; and that he was only one of the performersin the comedy, not the principal character by any means; Rosencrantz andGuildenstern in the Tragedy, the part of Hamlet by a gentleman unknown.How often are our little vanities shocked in this way, and subjected towholesome humiliation! Have you not fancied that Lucinda's eyes beamedon you with a special tenderness, and presently become aware that sheogles your neighbour with the very same killing glances? Have you notexchanged exquisite whispers with Lalage at the dinner-table (sweetmurmurs heard through the hum of the guests, and clatter of thebanquet!) and then overheard her whispering the very same deliciousphrases to old Surdus in the drawing-room? The sun shines for everybody;the flowers smell sweet for all noses; and the nightingale and Lalagewarble for all ears--not your long ones only, good Brother!