Nineteenth. - In proportion
as Lady Lowborough finds she
has nothing to fear from me,
and as the time of departure
draws nigh, the more audacious
and insolent she becomes. She
does not scruple to speak to
my husband with affectionate
familiarity in my presence, when
no one else is by, and is particularly
fond of displaying her interest
in his health and welfare, or
in anything that concerns him,
as if for the purpose of contrasting
her kind solicitude with my cold
indifference. And he rewards
her by such smiles and glances,
such whispered words, or boldly-spoken
insinuations, indicative of his
sense of her goodness and my
neglect, as make the blood rush
into my face, in spite of myself
- for I would be utterly regardless
of it all - deaf and blind to
everything that passes between
them, since the more I show myself
sensible of their wickedness
the more she triumphs in her
victory, and the more he flatters
himself that I love him devotedly
still, in spite of my pretended
indifference. On such occasions
I have sometimes been startled
by a subtle, fiendish suggestion
inciting me to show him the contrary
by a seeming encouragement of
Hargrave's advances; but such
ideas are banished in a moment
with horror and self-abasement;
and then I hate him tenfold more
than ever for having brought
me to this! - God pardon me for
it and all my sinful thoughts!
Instead of being humbled and
purified by my afflictions, I
feel that they are turning my
nature into gall. This must be
my fault as much as theirs that
wrong me. No true Christian could
cherish such bitter feelings
as I do against him and her,
especially the latter: him, I
still feel that I could pardon
- freely, gladly - on the slightest
token of repentance; but she
- words cannot utter my abhorrence.
Reason forbids, but passion urges
strongly; and I must pray and
struggle long ere I
subdue it.
It is well that she is leaving
to-morrow, for I could not well
endure her presence for another
day. This morning she rose earlier
than usual. I found her in the
room alone, when I went down
to breakfast.
'Oh, Helen! is it you?' said
she, turning as I entered.
I gave an involuntary start
back on seeing her, at which
she uttered a short laugh, observing,
'I think we are both disappointed.'
I came forward and busied myself
with the breakfast things.
'This is the last day I shall
burden your hospitality,' said
she, as she seated herself at
the table. 'Ah, here comes one
that will not rejoice at it!'
she murmured, half to herself,
as Arthur entered the room.
He shook hands with her and
wished her good-morning: then,
looking lovingly in her face,
and still retaining her hand
in his, murmured pathetically,
'The last - last day!'
'Yes,' said she with some asperity;
'and I rose early to make the
best of it - I have been here
alone this half-hour, and you
- you lazy creature - '
'Well, I thought I was early
too,' said he; 'but,' dropping
his voice almost to a whisper,
'you see we are not alone.'
'We never are,' returned she.
But they were almost as good
as alone, for I was now standing
at the window, watching the clouds,
and struggling to suppress my
wrath.
Some more words passed between
them, which, happily, I did not
overhear; but Annabella had the
audacity to come and place herself
beside me, and even to put her
hand upon my shoulder and say
softly, 'You need not grudge
him to me, Helen, for I love
him more than ever you could
do.'
This put me beside myself.
I took her hand and violently
dashed it from me, with an expression
of abhorrence and indignation
that could not be suppressed.
Startled, almost appalled, by
this sudden outbreak, she recoiled
in silence. I would have given
way to my fury and said more,
but Arthur's low laugh recalled
me to myself. I checked the half-uttered
invective, and scornfully turned
away, regretting that I had given
him so much amusement. He was
still laughing when Mr. Hargrave
made his appearance. How much
of the scene he had witnessed
I do not know, for the door was
ajar when he entered. He greeted
his host and his cousin both
coldly, and me with a glance
intended to express the deepest
sympathy mingled with high admiration
and esteem.
'How much allegiance do you
owe to that man?' he asked below
his breath, as he stood beside
me at the window, affecting to
be making observations on the
weather.
'None,' I answered. And immediately
returning to the table, I employed
myself in making the tea. He
followed, and would have entered
into some kind of conversation
with me, but the other guests
were now beginning to assemble,
and I took no more notice of
him, except to give him his coffee.
After breakfast, determined
to pass as little of the day
as possible in company with Lady
Lowborough, I quietly stole away
from the company and retired
to the library. Mr. Hargrave
followed me thither, under pretence
of coming for a book; and first,
turning to the shelves, he selected
a volume, and then quietly, but
by no means timidly, approaching
me, he stood beside me, resting
his hand on the back of my chair,
and said softly, 'And so you
consider yourself free at last?'
'Yes,' said I, without moving,
or raising my eyes from my book,
'free to do anything but offend
God and my conscience.'
There was a momentary pause.
'Very right,' said he, 'provided
your conscience be not too morbidly
tender, and your ideas of God
not too erroneously severe; but
can you suppose it would offend
that benevolent Being to make
the happiness of one who would
die for yours? - to raise a devoted
heart from purgatorial torments
to a state of heavenly bliss,
when you could do it without
the slightest injury to yourself
or any other?'
This was spoken in a low, earnest,
melting tone, as he bent over
me. I now raised my head; and
steadily confronting his gaze,
I answered calmly, 'Mr. Hargrave,
do you mean to insult me?'
He was not prepared for this.
He paused a moment to recover
the shook; then, drawing himself
up and removing his hand from
my chair, he answered, with proud
sadness, - 'That was not my intention.'
I just glanced towards the
door, with a slight movement
of the head, and then returned
to my book. He immediately withdrew.
This was better than if I had
answered with more words, and
in the passionate spirit to which
my first impulse would have prompted.
What a good thing it is to be
able to command one's temper!
I must labour to cultivate this
inestimable quality: God only
knows how often I shall need
it in this rough, dark road that
lies before me.
In the course of the morning
I drove over to the Grove with
the two ladies, to give Milicent
an opportunity for bidding farewell
to her mother and sister. They
persuaded her to stay with them
the rest of the day, Mrs. Hargrave
promising to bring her back in
the evening and remain till the
party broke up on the morrow.
Consequently, Lady Lowborough
and I had the pleasure of returning
TETE-E-TETE in the carriage together.
For the first mile or two we
kept silence, I looking out of
my window, and she leaning back
in her corner. But I was not
going to restrict myself to any
particular position for her;
when I was tired of leaning forward,
with the cold, raw wind in my
face, and surveying the russet
hedges and the damp, tangled
grass of their banks, I gave
it up and leant back too. With
her usual impudence, my companion
then made some attempts to get
up a conversation; but the monosyllables
'yes,' or 'no' or 'humph,' were
the utmost her several remarks
could elicit from me. At last,
on her asking my opinion upon
some immaterial point of discussion,
I answered, - 'Why do you wish
to talk to me, Lady Lowborough?
You must know what I think of
you.'
'Well, if you will be so bitter
against me,' replied she, 'I
can't help it; but I'm not going
to sulk for anybody.'
Our short drive was now at
an end. As soon as the carriage
door was opened, she sprang out,
and went down the park to meet
the gentlemen, who were just
returning from the woods. Of
course I did not follow.
But I had not done with her
impudence yet: after dinner,
I retired to the drawing-room,
as usual, and she accompanied
me, but I had the two children
with me, and I gave them my whole
attention, and determined to
keep them till the gentlemen
came, or till Milicent arrived
with her mother. Little Helen,
however, was soon tired of playing,
and insisted upon going to sleep;
and while I sat on the sofa with
her on my knee, and Arthur seated
beside me, gently playing with
her soft, flaxen hair, Lady Lowborough
composedly came and placed herself
on the other side.
'To-morrow, Mrs. Huntingdon,'
said she, 'you will be delivered
from my presence, which, no doubt,
you will be very glad of - it
is natural you should; but do
you know I have rendered you
a great service? Shall I tell
you what it is?'
'I shall be glad to hear of
any service you have rendered
me,' said I, determined to be
calm, for I knew by the tone
of her voice she wanted to provoke
me.
'Well,' resumed she, 'have
you not observed the salutary
change in Mr. Huntingdon? Don't
you see what a sober, temperate
man he is become? You saw with
regret the sad habits he was
contracting, I know: and I know
you did your utmost to deliver
him from them, but without success,
until I came to your assistance.
I told him in few words that
I could not bear to see him degrade
himself so, and that I should
cease to - no matter what I told
him, but you see the reformation
I have wrought; and you ought
to thank me for it.'
I rose and rang for the nurse.
'But I desire no thanks,' she
continued; 'all the return I
ask is, that you will take care
of him when I am gone, and not,
by harshness and neglect, drive
him back to his old courses.'
I was almost sick with passion,
but Rachel was now at the door.
I pointed to the children, for
I could not trust myself to speak:
she took them away, and I followed.
'Will you, Helen?' continued
the speaker.
I gave her a look that blighted
the malicious smile on her face,
or checked it, at least for a
moment, and departed. In the
ante-room I met Mr. Hargrave.
He saw I was in no humour to
be spoken to, and suffered me
to pass without a word; but when,
after a few minutes' seclusion
in the library, I had regained
my composure, and was returning
to join Mrs. Hargrave and Milicent,
whom I had just heard come downstairs
and go into the drawing-room,
I found him there still lingering
in the dimly-lighted apartment,
and evidently waiting for me.
'Mrs. Huntingdon,' said he
as I passed, 'will you allow
me one word?'
'What is it then? be quick,
if you please.'
'I offended you this morning;
and I cannot live under your
displeasure.'
'Then go, and sin no more,'
replied I, turning away.
'No, no!' said he, hastily,
setting himself before me. 'Pardon
me, but I must have your forgiveness.
I leave you to-morrow, and I
may not have an opportunity of
speaking to you again. I was
wrong to forget myself and you,
as I did; but let me implore
you to forget and forgive my
rash presumption, and think of
me as if those words had never
been spoken; for, believe me,
I regret them deeply, and the
loss of your esteem is too severe
a penalty: I cannot bear it.'
'Forgetfulness is not to be
purchased with a wish; and I
cannot bestow my esteem on all
who desire it, unless they deserve
it too.'
'I shall think my life well
spent in labouring to deserve
it, if you will but pardon this
offence - will you?'
'Yes.'
'Yes! but that is coldly spoken.
Give me your hand and I'll believe
you. You won't? Then, Mrs. Huntingdon,
you do not forgive me!'
'Yes; here it is, and my forgiveness
with it: only, SIN NO MORE.'
He pressed my cold hand with
sentimental fervour, but said
nothing, and stood aside to let
me pass into the room, where
all the company were now assembled.
Mr. Grimsby was seated near the
door: on seeing me enter, almost
immediately followed by Hargrave,
he leered at me with a glance
of intolerable significance,
as I passed. I looked him in
the face, till he sullenly turned
away, if not ashamed, at least
confounded for the moment. Meantime
Hattersley had seized Hargrave
by the arm, and was whispering
something in his ear - some coarse
joke, no doubt, for the latter
neither laughed nor spoke in
answer, but, turning from him
with a slight curl of the lip,
disengaged himself and went to
his mother, who was telling Lord
Lowborough how many reasons she
had to be proud of her son.
Thank heaven, they are all
going to-morrow.
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