Henrietta Temple: A Love Story

  CHAPTER XXI.

  _The Crisis_.

  ALTHOUGH, when Ferdinand was once more left alone to his reflections, itdid not appear to him that anything had occurred which should change hisopinion of his forlorn lot, there was something, nevertheless, inspiringin the visit of his friend Count Mirabel. It did not seem to him,indeed, that he was one whit nearer extrication from his difficultiesthan before; and as for the wild hopes as to Henrietta, he dismissedthem from his mind as the mere fantastic schemes of a sanguine spirit,and yet his gloom, by some process difficult to analyse, had in greatmeasure departed. It could not be the champagne, for that was a remedyhe had previously tried; it was in some degree doubtless the magicsympathy of a joyous temperament: but chiefly it might, perhaps, beascribed to the flattering conviction that he possessed the heartyfriendship of a man whose good-will was, in every view of the case, avery enviable possession. With such a friend as Mirabel, he could notdeem himself quite so unlucky as in the morning. If he were fortunate,and fortunate so unexpectedly, in this instance, he might be so inothers. A vague presentiment that he had seen the worst of life cameover him. It was equally in vain to justify the consoling conviction orto resist it; and Ferdinand Armine, although in a spunging-house, fellasleep in better humour with his destiny than he had been for the lasteight months.

  His dreams were charming: he fancied that he was at Armine, standingby the Barbary rose-tree. It was moonlight; it was, perhaps, a slightrecollection of the night he had looked upon the garden from the windowof his chamber, the night after he had first seen Henrietta. Suddenly,Henrietta Temple appeared at his window, and waved her hand to him witha smiling face. He immediately plucked for her a flower, and stood withhis offering beneath her window. She was in a riding-habit, and she toldhim that she had just returned from Italy. He invited her to descend,and she disappeared; but instead of Henrietta, there came forward fromthe old Place-----the duchess, who immediately enquired whether he hadseen his cousin; and then her Grace, by some confused process common indreams, turned into Glastonbury, and pointed to the rose-tree, where, tohis surprise, Katherine was walking with Lord Montfort. Ferdinand calledout for Henrietta, but, as she did not appear, he entered the Place,where he found Count Mirabel dining by himself, and just drinkinga glass of champagne. He complained to Mirabel that Henrietta haddisappeared, but his friend laughed at him, and said that, after such along ride, leaving Italy only yesterday, he could scarcely expect to seeher. Satisfied with this explanation, Ferdinand joined the Count at hisbanquet, and was awakened from his sleep, and his dream apparently, byMirabel drawing a cork.

  Ah! why did he ever wake? It was so real; he had seen her so plainly; itwas life; it was the very smile she wore at Ducie; that sunny glance, sofull of joy, beauty, and love, which he could live to gaze on! And nowhe was in prison, and she was going to be married to another. Oh! thereare things in this world that may well break hearts!

  The cork of Count Mirabel was, however, a substantial sound, a gentletap at his door: he answered it, and the waiter entered his chamber.

  'Beg pardon, sir, for disturbing you; only eight o'clock.'

  'Then why the deuce do you disturb me?' 'There has been another nob,sir. I said as how you were not up, and he sent his compliments,and said as how he would call in an hour, as he wished to see youparticular.' 'Was it the Count?'

  'No, sir; but it was a regular nob, sir, for he had a coronet on hiscab. But he would not leave his name.'

  'Catch, of course,' thought Ferdinand to himself. 'And sent by Mirabel.I should not wonder, if after all, they have broken the bank atCrocky's. Nothing shall induce me to take a ducat.'

  However, Ferdinand thought fit to rise, and contrived to descend to thebest drawing-room about a quarter of an hour after the appointed time.To his extreme surprise he found Lord Montfort.

  'My dear friend,' said Lord Montfort, looking a little confused; 'I amafraid I have sadly disturbed you. But I could not contrive to find youyesterday until it was so late that I was ashamed to knock them up here,and I thought, therefore, you would excuse this early call, as, as, as,I wished to see you very much indeed.'

  'You are extremely kind,' said Captain Armine. 'But really I much regretthat your lordship should have had all this trouble.'

  'Oh! what is trouble under such circumstances!' replied his lordship. 'Icannot pardon myself for being so stupid as not reaching you yesterday.I never can excuse myself for the inconvenience you have experienced.'

  Ferdinand bowed, but was so perplexed that he could not say a word.

  'I hope, my dear Armine,' said his lordship, advancing rather slowly,putting his arm within that of Ferdinand, and then walking up and downthe room together, 'I hope you will act at this moment towards me as Iwould towards you, were our respective situations changed.'

  Ferdinand bowed, but said nothing.

  'Money, you know, my good fellow,' continued Lord Montfort, 'is adisagreeable thing to talk about; but there are circumstances whichshould deprive such conversation between us of any awkwardness whichotherwise might arise.'

  'I am not aware of them, my lord,' said Ferdinand, 'though your goodfeelings command my gratitude.'

  'I think, upon reflection, we shall find that there are some,' said LordMontfort. 'For the moment I will only hope that you will esteem thosegood feelings, and which, on my part, I am anxious should ripen intosincere and intimate friendship, as sufficient authority for my placingyour affairs in general in that state that they may in futurenever deprive your family and friends of society necessary to theirhappiness.'

  'My lord, I am sure that adversity has assumed a graceful hue with me,for it has confirmed my most amiable views of human nature. I shall notattempt to express what I feel towards your lordship for this generousgoodness, but I will say I am profoundly impressed with it; not theless, because I cannot avail myself in the slightest degree of youroffer.'

  'You are too much a man of the world, I am sure, my dear Armine, tobe offended by my frankness. I shall, therefore, speak without fear ofmisconception. It does appear to me that the offer which I have made youis worthy of a little more consideration. You see, my dear friend, thatyou have placed yourself in such a situation that however you may actthe result cannot be one completely satisfactory. The course you shouldpursue, therefore, as, indeed, all conduct in this world should be, is amatter of nice calculation. Have you well considered the consequences ofyour rushing upon ruin? In the first place, your family will receive ablow from which even future prosperity may not recover them. Your familyestate, already in a delicate position, may be irrecoverably lost;the worldly consequences of such a vicissitude are very considerable;whatever career you pursue, so long as you visibly possess Armine,you rank always among the aristocracy of the land, and a family thatmaintains such a position, however decayed, will ultimately recover. Ihardly know an exception to this rule. I do not think, of all men, thatyou are most calculated to afford one.'

  'What you say has long pressed itself upon us,' said Captain Armine.

  'Then, again,' resumed Lord Montfort, 'the feelings and even interestsof your friends are to be considered. Poor Glastonbury! I love that oldman myself. The fall of Armine might break his heart; he would not liketo leave his tower. You see, I know your place.'

  'Poor Glastonbury!' said Ferdinand.

  'But above all,' continued Lord Montfort, 'the happiness, nay, the veryhealth and life of your parents, from whom all is now concealed, wouldperhaps be the last and costliest sacrifices of your rashness.'

  Ferdinand threw himself on the sofa and covered his face.

  'Yet all this misery, all these misfortunes, may be avoided, and youyourself become a calm and happy man, by--for I wish not to understateyour view of the subject, Armine--putting yourself under a pecuniaryobligation to me. A circumstance to be avoided in the common course oflife, no doubt; but is it better to owe me a favour and save your familyestate, preserve your position, maintain your friend, and prevent themisery, and probable death, of your par
ents, or be able to pass me inthe street, in haughty silence if you please, with the consciousnessthat the luxury of your pride has been satisfied at the cost of everycircumstance which makes existence desirable?'

  'You put the case strongly,' said Ferdinand; 'but no reasoning can everpersuade me that I am justified in borrowing 3,000L., which I can neverrepay.'

  'Accept it, then.'

  ''Tis the same thing,' said Ferdinand.

  'I think not,' said Lord Montfort; 'but why do you say never?'

  'Because it is utterly impossible that I ever can.'

  'How do you know you may not marry a woman of large fortune?' said LordMontfort. 'Now you seem to me exactly the sort of man who would marry anheiress.'

  'You are thinking of my cousin,' said Ferdinand. 'I thought that youhad discovered, or that you might have learnt, that there was no realintention of our union.'

  'No, I was not thinking of your cousin,' said Lord Montfort; 'though,to tell you the truth, I was once in hopes that you would marry her.However, that I well know is entirely out of the question, for I believeMiss Grandison will marry someone else.'

  'Indeed!' exclaimed Ferdinand, a little agitated. 'Well! may she behappy! I love Kate from the bottom of my heart. But who is the fortunatefellow?'

  ''Tis a lady's secret,' said Lord Montfort. 'But let us return to ourargument. To be brief: either, my dear Armine, you must be convinced bymy reasoning, or I must remain here a prisoner like yourself; for, totell you the truth, there is a fair lady before whom I cannot presentmyself except in your company.'

  Ferdinand changed countenance. There wanted but this to confirmhis resolution, which had scarcely wavered. To owe his release toHenrietta's influence with Lord Montfort was too degrading.

  'My lord,' he said, 'you have touched upon a string that I had hopedmight have been spared me. This conversation must, indeed, cease. Mymouth is sealed from giving you the reasons, which nevertheless renderit imperative on me to decline your generous offer.'

  'Well, then,' said Lord Montfort, 'I must see if another can be moresuccessful,' and he held forth a note to the astounded Ferdinand, inHenrietta's writing. It dropped from Ferdinand's hand as he took it.Lord Montfort picked it up, gave it him again, and walked to the otherend of the room. It was with extreme difficulty that Ferdinand prevailedon himself to break the seal. The note was short; the hand that tracedthe letters must have trembled. Thus it ran:--

  'Dearest Ferdinand,--Do everything that Digby wishes. He is our bestfriend. Digby is going to marry Katherine; are you happy? Henrietta.'

  Lord Montfort looked round; Ferdinand Armine was lying senseless on thesofa.

  Our friend was not of a swooning mood, but we think the circumstancesmay excuse the weakness.

  As for Lord Montfort, he rang the bell for the little waiter, who, themoment he saw what had occurred, hurried away and rushed up stairs againwith cold water, a bottle of brandy, and a blazing sheet of brown paper,which he declared was an infallible specific. By some means or otherFerdinand was in time recovered, and the little waiter was fairlyexpelled.

  'My dear friend,' said Ferdinand, in a faint voice; 'I am the happiestman that ever lived; I hope you will be, I am sure you will be;Katherine is an angel. But I cannot speak. It is so strange.'

  'My dear fellow, you really must take a glass of brandy,' said LordMontfort. 'It is strange, certainly. But we are all happy.'

  'I hardly know where I am,' said Ferdinand, after a few minutes. 'Am Ireally alive?'

  'Let us think how we are to get out of this place. I suppose they willtake my cheque. If not, I must be off.'

  'Oh, do not go,' said Ferdinand. 'If you go I shall not believe it istrue. My dear Montfort, is it really true?'

  'You see, my dear Armine,' said Lord Montfort, smiling, 'it was fatedthat I should marry a lady you rejected. And to tell you the truth, thereason why I did not get to you yesterday, as I ought to have done, wasan unexpected conversation I had with Miss Grandison. I really thinkthis arrest was a most fortunate incident. It brought affairs to acrisis. We should have gone on playing at cross purposes for ever.'

  Here the little waiter entered again with a note and a packet.

  'The same messenger brought them?' asked Ferdinand.

  'No, sir; the Count's servant brought the note, and waits for an answer;the packet came by another person.'

  Ferdinand opened the note and read as follows:--

  'Berkeley-square, half-past 7, morning.

  'Mon Ami,--Best joke in the world! I broke Crocky's bank three times.Of course; I told you so. I win 15,000L. Directly I am awake I will sendyou the three thousand, and I will lend you the rest till your marriage.It will not be very long. I write this before I go to bed, that you mayhave it early. Adieu, _cher ami_.

  '_Votre affectionne_,

  'De Mirabel.

  'My arrest was certainly the luckiest incident in the world,' saidFerdinand, handing the note to Lord Montfort. 'Mirabel dined hereyesterday, and went and played on purpose to save me. I treated it asa joke. But what is this?' Ferdinand opened the packet. The handwritingwas unknown to him. Ten bank notes of 300L. each fell to the ground.

  'Do I live in fairyland?' he exclaimed. 'Now who can this be? It cannotbe you; it cannot be Mirabel. It is wondrous strange.'

  'I think I can throw some light upon it,' said Lord Montfort. 'Katherinewas mysteriously engaged with Glastonbury yesterday morning. They wereout together, and I know they went to her lawyer's. There is no doubt itis Katherine. I think, under the circumstances of the case, we need haveno delicacy in availing ourselves of this fortunate remittance. It willat least save us time,' said Lord Montfort, ringing the bell. 'Send yourmaster here directly,' he continued to the waiter.

  The sheriff's officer appeared; the debt, the fees, all were paid, andthe discharge duly taken. Ferdinand in the meantime went up stairs tolock up his dressing-case; the little waiter rushed after him to packhis portmanteau. Ferdinand did not forget his zealous friend, whowhispered hope when all was black. The little waiter chuckled as he puthis ten guineas in his pocket. 'You see, sir,' he said, 'I was quiteright. Knowed your friends would stump down. Fancy a nob like you beingsent to quod! Fiddlededee! You see, sir, you weren't used to it.'

  And so Ferdinand Armine bid adieu to the spunging-house, where, in thecourse of less than eight-and-forty hours, he had known alike despairand rapture. Lord Montfort drove along with a gaiety unusual to him.

  'Now, my dear Armine,' he said, 'I am not a jot the less in love withHenrietta than before. I love her as you love Katherine. What folly tomarry a woman who was in love with another person! I should have madeher miserable, when the great object of all my conduct was to make herhappy. Now Katherine really loves me as much as Henrietta loves you. Ihave had this plan in my head for a long time. I calculated finely; Iwas convinced it was the only way to make us all happy. And now we shallall be related; we shall be constantly together; and we will be brotherfriends.'

  'Ah! my dear Montfort,' said Ferdinand, 'what will Mr. Temple say?'

  'Leave him to me,' said Lord Montfort.

  'I tremble,' said Ferdinand, 'if it were possible to anticipatedifficulties to-day.'

  'I shall go to him at once,' said Lord Montfort; 'I am not fond ofsuspense myself, and now it is of no use. All will be right.'

  'I trust only to you,' said Ferdinand; 'for I am as proud as Temple. Hedislikes me, and he is too rich for me to bow down to him.'

  'I take it upon myself,' said Lord Montfort. 'Mr. Temple is a calm,sensible man. You will laugh at me, but the truth is, with him it mustbe a matter of calculation: on the one hand, his daughter's happiness, aunion with a family second to none in blood, alliances, and territorialposition, and only wanting his wealth to revive all its splendour; onthe other, his daughter broken-hearted, and a duke for his son-in-law.Mr. Temple is too sensible a man to hesitate, particularly when I removethe greatest difficulty he must experience. Where shall I out you down?Berkeley-Square?'