CHAPTER X.
_Sir Lucius Drops the Mask_
THE fete at 'the Pavilion,' such was the title of the Twickenham Villa,though the subject of universal interest, was anticipated by no onewith more eager anxiety than by Sir Lucius Grafton; for that day, hedetermined, should decide the fate of the Duke of St. James. He wassanguine as to the result, nor without reason. For the last month hehad, by his dark machinery, played desperately upon the feelings ofLady Aphrodite; and more than once had she despatched rapid notes to heradmirer for counsel and for consolation. The Duke was more skilful insoothing her griefs than in devising expedients for their removal. Hetreated the threatened as a distant evil! and wiped away her tears in amanner which is almost an encouragement to weep.
At last the eventful morn arrived, and a scorching sun made those exultto whom the barge and the awning promised a progress equally calmand cool. Woe to the dusty britzska! woe to the molten furnace of thecrimson cabriolet!
They came, as the stars come out from the heavens, what time the sunis in his first repose: now a single hero, brilliant as a planet; now asplendid party, clustering like a constellation. Music is on thewaters and perfume on the land; each moment a barque glides up with itscymbals, each moment a cavalcade bright with bouquets!
Ah, gathering of brightness! ah, meeting of lustre! why, why are you tobe celebrated by one so obscure and dull as I am? Ye Lady Carolinesand ye Lady Franceses, ye Lady Barbaras and ye Lady Blanches, is it myfault?
O, graceful Lord Francis, why, why have you left us; why, why have youexchanged your Ionian lyre for an Irish harp? You were not made forpolitics; leave them to clerks. Fly, fly back to pleasure, to frolic,and fun! Confess, now, that you sometimes do feel a little queer. We saynothing of the difference between May Fair and Donnybrook.
And thou, too, Luttrell, gayest bard that ever threw off a triplet amidthe clattering of cabs and the chattering of clubs, art thou, too, mute?Where, where dost thou linger? Is our Druid among the oaks of Ampthill;or, like a truant Etonian, is he lurking among the beeches of Burnham?What! has the immortal letter, unlike all other good advice, absolutelynot been thrown away? or is the jade incorrigible? Whichever be thecase, you need not be silent. There is yet enough to do, and yet enoughto instruct. Teach us that wealth is not elegance; that profusion is notmagnificence; and that splendour is not beauty. Teach us that taste isa talisman which can do greater wonders than the millions of theloanmonger. Teach us that to vie is not to rival, and to imitate notto invent. Teach us that pretension is a bore. Teach us that wit isexcessively good-natured, and, like champagne, not only sparkles, butis sweet. Teach us the vulgarity of malignity. Teach us that envyspoils our complexions, and that anxiety destroys our figure. Catch thefleeting colours of that sly chameleon, Cant, and show what excessivetrouble we are ever taking to make ourselves miserable and silly. Teachus all this, and Aglaia shall stop a crow in its course and presentyou with a pen, Thalia hold the golden fluid in a Sevres vase, andEuphrosyne support the violet-coloured scroll.
The four hosts greeted the arrivals and assisted the disembarkations,like the famous four sons of Aymon.
They were all dressed alike, and their costume excited great attention.At first it was to have been very plain, black and white and a singlerose; but it was settled that simplicity had been overdone, and, likea country girl after her first season, had turned into a most affectedbaggage, so they agreed to be regal; and fancy uniforms, worthy of thecourt of Oberon, were the order of the day. We shall not describe them,for the description of costume is the most inventive province of ourhistorical novelists, and we never like to be unfair, or trench uponour neighbour's lands or rights; but the Alhambra button indicated amystical confederacy, and made the women quite frantic with curiosity.
The guests wandered through the gardens, always various, and now aparadise of novelty. There were four brothers, fresh from the wildestrecesses of the Carpathian Mount, who threw out such woodnotes wild thatall the artists stared; and it was universally agreed that, had they notbeen French chorus-singers, they would have been quite a miracle. Butthe Lapland sisters were the true prodigy, who danced the Mazurka inthe national style. There was also a fire-eater; but some said he wouldnever set the river in flames, though he had an antidote against allpoisons! But then our Mithridates always tried its virtues on a stuffedpoodle, whose bark evinced its vitality. There also was a giant in thewildest part of the shrubbery, and a dwarf, on whom the ladies showeredtheir sugarplums, and who, in return, offered them tobacco. But itwas not true that the giant sported stilts, or that the dwarf was asucking-babe. Some people are so suspicious. Then a bell rang, andassembled them in the concert-room; and the Bird of Paradise who to-daywas consigned to the cavaliership of Peacock Piggott, condescended tofavour them with a new song, which no one had ever heard, and which,consequently, made them feel more intensely all the sublimity ofexclusiveness. Shall we forget the panniers of shoes which Melnotte hadplaced in every quarter of the gardens? We will say nothing ofMaradan's cases of caps, because, for this incident, Lord Bagshot is ourauthority.
On a sudden, it seemed that a thousand bugles broke the blue air,and they were summoned to a dejeuner in four crimson tents worthy ofSardanapalus.
Over each waved the scutcheon of the president. Glittering were theglories of the hundred quarterings of the house of Darrell. '_Si non evero e ben trovato_,' was the motto. Lord Darrell's grandfather had beena successful lawyer. Lord Squib's emblazonry was a satire on its owner.'_Holdfast_' was the motto of a man who had let loose. Annesley'ssimple shield spoke of the Conquest; but all paled before the banner ofthe house of Hauteville, for it indicated an alliance with royalty. Theattendants of each pavilion wore the livery of its lord.
Shall we attempt to describe the delicacy of this banquet, whereimagination had been racked for novel luxury? Through the centre of eachtable ran a rivulet of rose-water, and gold and silver fish glanced inits unrivalled course. The bouquets were exchanged every half-hour, andmusic soft and subdued, but constant and thrilling, wound them up byexquisite gradations to that pitch of refined excitement which is sostrange a union of delicacy and voluptuousness, when the soul, as itwere, becomes sensual, and the body, as it were, dissolves into spirit.And in this choice assembly, where all was youth, and elegance, andbeauty, was it not right that every sound should be melody, every sighta sight of loveliness, and every thought a thought of pleasure?
They arose and re-assembled on the lawn, where they found, to theirsurprise, had arisen in their absence a Dutch Fair. Numerous were thebooths, innumerable were the contents. The first artists had arrangedthe picture and the costumes; the first artists had made the trinketsand the toys. And what a very agreeable fair, where all might suit theirfancy without the permission of that sulky tyrant, a purse! All were inexcellent humour, and no false shame prevented them from plunderingthe stalls. The noble proprietors set the example. Annesley offered abouquet of precious stones to Charlotte Bloomerly, and it was accepted,and the Duke of St. James showered a sack of whimsical breloques among ascrambling crowd of laughing beauties. Among them was Miss Dacre. He hadnot observed her. Their eyes met, and she smiled. It seemed that he hadnever felt happiness before.
Ere the humours of the fair could be exhausted they were summoned to themargin of the river, where four painted and gilded galleys, whichmight have sailed down the Cydmus, and each owning its peculiar chief,prepared to struggle for pre-eminence in speed. All betted; and theDuke, encouraged by the smile, hastened to Miss Dacre to try to win backsome of his Doncaster losses, but Arundel Dacre had her arm in his,and she was evidently delighted with his discourse. His Grace's bloodturned, and he walked away.
It was sunset when they returned to the lawn, and then the ball-roompresented itself; but the twilight was long, and the night was warm;there were no hateful dews, no odious mists, and therefore a greatnumber danced on the lawn. The fair was illuminated, and all the little_marchandes_ and their lusty porters walked about in their costume.
The Duke again rallied his courage, and seeing Arundel Dacre withMrs. Dallington Vere, he absolutely asked Miss Dacre to dance. She wasengaged. He doubted, and walked into the house disconsolate; yet, if hehad waited one moment, he would have seen Sir Lucius Grafton rejoinher, and lead her to the cotillon that was forming on the turf. The Dukesauntered to Lady Aphrodite, but she would not dance; yet she didnot yield his arm, and proposed a stroll. They wandered away to theextremity of the grounds. Fainter and fainter grew the bursts of therevellers, yet neither of them spoke much, for both were dull.
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Yet at length her Ladyship did speak, and amply made up for her previoussilence. All former scenes, to this, were but as the preface to thebook. All she knew and all she dreaded, all her suspicions, all hercertainties, all her fears, were poured forth in painful profusion. Thisnight was to decide her fate. She threw herself on his mercy, if he hadforgotten his love. Out dashed all those arguments, all thoseappeals, all those assertions, which they say are usual under thesecircumstances. She was a woman; he was a man. She had staked herhappiness on this venture; he had a thousand cards to play. Love, andfirst love, with her, as with all women, was everything; he and all men,at the worst, had a thousand resources. He might plunge into politics,he might game, he might fight, he might ruin himself in innumerableways, but she could only ruin herself in one. Miserable woman! Miserablesex! She had given him her all. She knew it was little: would she hadmore! She knew she was unworthy of him: would she were not! She did notask him to sacrifice himself to her: she could not expect it; she didnot even desire it. Only, she thought he ought to know exactly the stateof affairs and of consequences, and that certainly if they were parted,which assuredly they would be, most decidedly she would droop, and fade,and die. She wept, she sobbed; his entreaties alone seemed to preventhysterics.
These scenes are painful at all times, and even the callous, they say,have a twinge; but when the actress is really beautiful and pure, asthis lady was, and the actor young and inexperienced and amiable, asthis actor was, the consequences are more serious than is usual. TheDuke of St. James was unhappy, he was discontented, he was dissatisfiedwith himself. He did not love this lady, if love were the passion whichhe entertained for Miss Dacre, but she loved him. He knew that she wasbeautiful, and he was convinced that she was excellent. The worldis malicious, but the world had agreed that Lady Aphrodite was anunblemished pearl: yet this jewel was reserved for him! Intensegratitude almost amounted to love. In short, he had no idea at thismoment that feelings are not in our power. His were captive, even ifentrapped. It was a great responsibility to desert this creature, theonly one from whom he had experienced devotion. To conclude: a seasonof extraordinary dissipation, to use no harsher phrase, had somewhatexhausted the nervous powers of our hero; his energies were desertinghim; he had not heart or heartlessness enough to extricate himself fromthis dilemma. It seemed that if this being to whom he was indebted forso much joy were miserable, he must be unhappy; that if she died, lifeought to have, could have, no charms for him. He kissed away her tears,he pledged his faith, and Lady Aphrodite Grafton was his betrothed!
She wonderfully recovered. Her deep but silent joy seemed to repay himeven for this bitter sacrifice. Compared with the late racking of hisfeelings, the present calm, which was merely the result of suspensebeing destroyed, seemed happiness. His conscience whispered approbation,and he felt that, for once, he had sacrificed himself to another.
They re-entered the villa, and he took the first opportunity ofwandering alone to the least frequented parts of the grounds: his minddemanded solitude, and his soul required soliloquy.
'So the game is up! truly a most lame and impotent conclusion! And this,then, is the result of all my high fancies and indefinite aspirations!Verily, I am a very distinguished hero, and have not abused myunrivalled advantages in the least. What! am I bitter on myself? Therewill be enough to sing my praises without myself joining in this chorusof congratulation. O! fool! fool! Now I know what folly is. But barelyfifteen months since I stepped upon these shores, full of hope and fullof pride; and now I leave them; how? O! my dishonoured fathers! Even myposterity, which God grant I may not have, will look on my memory withhatred, and on hers with scorn!
'Well, I suppose we must live for ourselves. We both of us know theworld; and Heaven can bear witness that we should not be haunted by anyuneasy hankering after what has brought us such a heartache. If it werefor love, if it were for--but away! I will not profane her name; ifit were for her that I was thus sacrificing myself. I could bear it,I could welcome it. I can imagine perfect and everlasting bliss in thesole society of one single being, but she is not that being. Let me notconceal it; let me wrestle with this bitter conviction!
'And am I, indeed, bound to close my career thus; to throw away allhope, all chance of felicity, at my age, for a point of honour? No, no;it is not that. After all, I have experienced that with her, and fromher, which I have with no other woman; and she is so good, so gentle,and, all agree, so lovely! How infinitely worse would her situation beif deserted, than mine is as her perpetual companion! The very thoughtmakes my heart bleed. Yes! amiable, devoted, dearest Afy, I throw asidethese morbid feelings; you shall never repent having placed your trustin me. I will be proud and happy of such a friend, and you shall be minefor ever!'
A shriek broke on the air: he started. It was near: he hastened afterthe sound. He entered into a small green glade surrounded by shrubs,where had been erected a fanciful hermitage. There he found Sir LuciusGrafton on his knees, grasping the hand of the indignant but terrifiedMiss Dacre. The Duke rushed forward; Miss Dacre ran to meet him; SirLucius rose.
'This lady, Sir Lucius Grafton, is under my protection,' said the youngDuke, with a flashing eye but a calm voice. She clung to his arm; hebore her away. The whole was the affair of an instant.
The Duke and his companion proceeded in silence. She tried to hasten,but he felt her limbs shake upon his arm. He stopped: no one, not evena servant, was near. He could not leave her for an instant. There shestood trembling, her head bent down, and one hand clasping the other,which rested on his arm. Terrible was her struggle, but she would notfaint, and at length succeeded in repressing her emotions. They were yeta considerable way from the house. She motioned with her left handto advance; but still she did not speak. On they walked, though moreslowly, for she was exhausted, and occasionally stopped for breath orstrength.
At length she said, in a faint voice, 'I cannot join the party. I mustgo home directly. How can it be done?'
'Your companions?' said the Duke.
'Are of course engaged, or not to be found; but surely somebody I knowis departing. Manage it: say I am ill.'
'O, Miss Dacre! if you knew the agony of my mind!'
'Do not speak; for Heaven's sake, do not speak!'
He turned off from the lawn, and approached by a small circuit the gateof the ground. Suddenly he perceived a carriage on the point of goingoff. It was the Duchess of Shropshire's.
'There is the Duchess of Shropshire! You know her; but not a minute isto be lost. There is such a noise, they will not hear. Are you afraid tostop here one instant by yourself? I shall not be out of sight, and notaway a second. I run very quick.'
'No, no, I am not afraid. Go, go!'
Away rushed the Duke of St. James as if his life were on his speed. Hestopped the carriage, spoke, and was back in an instant.
'Lean, lean on me with all your strength. I have told everythingnecessary to Lady Shropshire. Nobody will speak a word, because theybelieve you have a terrible headache. I will say everything necessaryto Mrs. Dallington and your cousin. Do not give yourself a moment'suneasiness. And, oh! Miss Dacre! if I might say one word!'
She did not stop him.
'If,' continued he, 'it be your wish that the outrage of to-night shouldbe known only to myself and him, I pledge my word it shall be so; thoughwillingly, if I were authorised, I would act a different part in thisaffair.'
'It is my wish.' Sh
e spoke in a low voice, with her eyes still upon theground. 'And I thank you for this, and for all.'
They had now joined the Shropshires; but it was now discovered MissDacre had no shawl: and sundry other articles were wanting, to theevident dismay of the Ladies Wrekin. They offered theirs, but theirvisitor refused, and would not allow the Duke to fetch her own. Off theydrove; but when they had proceeded above half a mile, a continued shouton the road, which the fat coachman for a long time would not hear,stopped them, and up came the Duke of St. James, covered with dust, andpanting like a racer, with Miss Dacre's shawl.