October 5th. - My cup of sweets
is not unmingled: it is dashed
with a bitterness that I cannot
hide from myself, disguise it
as I will. I may try to persuade
myself that the sweetness overpowers
it; I may call it a pleasant
aromatic flavour; but say what
I will, it is still there, and
I cannot but taste it. I cannot
shut my eyes to Arthur's faults;
and the more I love him the more
they trouble me. His very heart,
that I trusted so, is, I fear,
less warm and generous than I
thought it. At least, he gave
me a specimen of his character
to-day that seemed to merit a
harder name than thoughtlessness.
He and Lord Lowborough were accompanying
Annabella and me in a long, delightful
ride; he was riding by my side,
as usual, and Annabella and Lord
Lowborough were a little before
us, the latter bending towards
his companion as if in tender
and confidential discourse.
'Those two will get the start
of us, Helen, if we don't look
sharp,' observed Huntingdon.
'They'll make a match of it,
as sure as can be. That Lowborough's
fairly besotted. But he'll find
himself in a fix when he's got
her, I doubt.'
'And she'll find herself in
a fix when she's got him,' said
I, 'if what I've heard of him
is true.'
'Not a bit of it. She knows
what she's about; but he, poor
fool, deludes himself with the
notion that she'll make him a
good wife, and because she has
amused him with some rodomontade
about despising rank and wealth
in matters of love and marriage,
he flatters himself that she's
devotedly attached to him; that
she will not refuse him for his
poverty, and does not court him
for his rank, but loves him for
himself alone.'
'But is not he courting her
for her fortune?'
'No, not he. That was the first
attraction, certainly; but now
he has quite lost sight of it:
it never enters his calculations,
except merely as an essential
without which, for the lady's
own sake, he could not think
of marrying her. No; he's fairly
in love. He thought he never
could be again, but he's in for
it once more. He was to have
been married before, some two
or three years ago; but he lost
his bride by losing his fortune.
He got into a bad way among us
in London: he had an unfortunate
taste for gambling; and surely
the fellow was born under an
unlucky star, for he always lost
thrice where he gained once.
That's a mode of self-torment
I never was much addicted to.
When I spend my money I like
to enjoy the full value of it:
I see no fun in wasting it on
thieves and blacklegs; and as
for gaining money, hitherto I
have always had sufficient; it's
time enough to be clutching for
more, I think, when you begin
to see the end of what you have.
But I have sometimes frequented
the gaming-houses just to watch
the on-goings of those mad votaries
of chance - a very interesting
study, I assure you, Helen, and
sometimes very diverting: I've
had many a laugh at the boobies
and bedlamites. Lowborough was
quite infatuated - not willingly,
but of necessity, - he was always
resolving to give it up, and
always breaking his resolutions.
Every venture was the 'just once
more:' if he gained a little,
he hoped to gain a little more
next time, and if he lost, it
would not do to leave off at
that juncture; he must go on
till he had retrieved that last
misfortune, at least: bad luck
could not last for ever; and
every lucky hit was looked upon
as the dawn of better times,
till experience proved the contrary.
At length he grew desperate,
and we were daily on the look-out
for a case of FELO-DE- SE - no
great matter, some of us whispered,
as his existence had ceased to
be an acquisition to our club.
At last, however, he came to
a check. He made a large stake,
which he determined should be
the last, whether he lost or
won. He had often so determined
before, to be sure, and as often
broken his determination; and
so it was this time. He lost;
and while his antagonist smilingly
swept away the stakes, he turned
chalky white, drew back in silence,
and wiped his forehead. I was
present at the time; and while
he stood with folded arms and
eyes fixed on the ground, I knew
well enough what was passing
in his mind.
'"Is it to be the last, Lowborough?" said
I, stepping up to him.
'"The last but one," he
answered, with
a grim smile;
and then,
rushing back to the table, he
struck his hand upon it, and,
raising his voice high above
all the confusion of jingling
coins and muttered oaths and
curses in the room, he swore
a deep and solemn oath that,
come what would, this trial should
be the last, and imprecated unspeakable
curses on his head if ever he
should shuffle a card or rattle
a dice-box again. He then doubled
his former stake, and challenged
any one present to play against
him. Grimsby instantly presented
himself. Lowborough glared fiercely
at him, for Grimsby was almost
as celebrated for his luck as
he was for his ill-fortune. However,
they fell to work. But Grimsby
had much skill and little scruple,
and whether he took advantage
of the other's trembling, blinded
eagerness to deal unfairly by
him, I cannot undertake to say;
but Lowborough lost again, and
fell dead sick.
'"You'd better try once more," said
Grimsby, leaning across the table.
And then he winked at me.
'"I've nothing to try with," said
the poor devil, with a ghastly
smile.
'"Oh, Huntingdon will lend
you what you want," said the
other.
'"No; you heard my oath," answered
Lowborough, turning away in quiet
despair. And I took him by the
arm and led him out.
'"Is it to be the last, Lowborough?" I
asked, when I got him into the
street.
'"The last," he
answered, somewhat
against my expectation. And I
took him home - that is, to our
club - for he was as submissive
as a child - and plied him with
brandy-and-water till he began
to look rather brighter - rather
more alive, at least.
'"Huntingdon, I'm ruined!" said
he, taking the third glass from
my hand - he had drunk the others
in dead silence.
'"Not you," said I. "You'll
find a man can live without his
money as merrily as a tortoise
without its head, or a wasp without
its body.
'"But I'm in debt," said he
- "deep in debt. And I can never,
never get out of it."
'"Well, what of that? Many
a better man than you has lived
and died in debt; and they can't
put you in prison, you know,
because you're a peer." And I
handed him his fourth tumbler.
'"But I hate to be in debt!" he
shouted. "I wasn't born for it,
and I cannot bear it."
'"What can't be cured must
be endured," said I, beginning
to mix the fifth.
'"And then, I've lost my Caroline." And
he began to snivel then, for
the brandy had softened his heart.
'"No matter," I answered, "there
are more Carolines in the world
than one."
'"There's only one for me," he
replied, with a dolorous sigh. "And
if there were fifty more, who's
to get them, I wonder, without
money?"
'"Oh,
somebody will
take you for
your title;
and then you've
your family estate yet; that's
entailed, you know."
'"I wish to God I could sell
it to pay my debts," he muttered.
'"And then," said Grimsby,
who had just come in, "you can
try again, you know. I would
have more than one chance, if
I were you. I'd never stop here."
'"I won't, I tell you!" shouted
he. And he started up, and left
the room - walking rather unsteadily,
for the liquor had got into his
head. He was not so much used
to it then, but after that he
took to it kindly to solace his
cares.
'He kept his oath about gambling
(not a little to the surprise
of us all), though Grimsby did
his utmost to tempt him to break
it, but now he had got hold of
another habit that bothered him
nearly as much, for he soon discovered
that the demon of drink was as
black as the demon of play, and
nearly as hard to get rid of
- especially as his kind friends
did all they could to second
the promptings of his own insatiable
cravings.'
'Then, they were demons themselves,'
cried I, unable to contain my
indignation. 'And you, Mr. Huntingdon,
it seems, were the first to tempt
him.'
'Well, what could we do?' replied
he, deprecatingly. - 'We meant
it in kindness - we couldn't
bear to see the poor fellow so
miserable:- and besides, he was
such a damper upon us, sitting
there silent and glum, when he
was under the threefold influence
- of the loss of his sweetheart,
the loss of his fortune, and
the reaction of the lost night's
debauch; whereas, when he had
something in him, if he was not
merry himself, he was an unfailing
source of merriment to us. Even
Grimsby could chuckle over his
odd sayings: they delighted him
far more than my merry jests,
or Hattersley's riotous mirth.
But one evening, when we were
sitting over our wine, after
one of our club dinners, and
all had been hearty together,
- Lowborough giving us mad toasts,
and hearing our wild songs, and
bearing a hand in the applause,
if he did not help us to sing
them himself, - he suddenly relapsed
into silence, sinking his head
on his hand, and never lifting
his glass to his lips; - but
this was nothing new; so we let
him alone, and went on with our
jollification, till, suddenly
raising his head, he interrupted
us in the middle of a roar of
laughter by exclaiming, - 'Gentlemen,
where is all this to end? - Will
you just tell me that now? -
Where is it all to end?' He rose.
'"A speech, a speech!" shouted
we. "Hear, hear! Lowborough's
going to give us a speech!"
'He
waited calmly
till the thunders
of applause
and jingling
of glasses had ceased, and then
proceeded, - "It's only this,
gentlemen, - that I think we'd
better go no further. We'd better
stop while we can."
'"Just so!" cried
Hattersley
-
"Stop, poor
sinner, stop and think Before
you further go,
No longer sport upon the brink
Of everlasting woe."
'"Exactly!" replied his lordship,
with the utmost gravity. "And
if you choose to visit the bottomless
pit, I won't go with you - we
must part company, for I swear
I'll not move another step towards
it! - What's this?' he said,
taking up his glass of wine.
'"Taste it," suggested
I.
'"This is hell broth!" he exclaimed. "I
renounce it for ever!" And he
threw it out into the middle
of the table.
'"Fill again!" said I, handing
him the bottle - "and let us
drink to your renunciation."
'"It's rank poison," said he,
grasping the bottle by the neck, "and
I forswear it! I've given up
gambling, and I'll give up this
too." He was on the point of
deliberately pouring the whole
contents of the bottle on to
the table, but Hargrave wrested
it from him. "On you be the curse,
then!" said he. And, backing
from the room, he shouted, "Farewell,
ye tempters!" and vanished amid
shouts of laughter and applause.
'We expected him back among
us the next day; but, to our
surprise, the place remained
vacant: we saw nothing of him
for a whole week; and we really
began to think he was going to
keep his word. At last, one evening,
when we were most of us assembled
together again, he entered, silent
and grim as a ghost, and would
have quietly slipped into his
usual seat at my elbow, but we
all rose to welcome him, and
several voices were raised to
ask what he would have, and several
hands were busy with bottle and
glass to serve him; but I knew
a smoking tumbler of brandy-and-water
would comfort him best, and had
nearly prepared it, when he peevishly
pushed it away, saying, -
'"Do let me alone, Huntingdon!
Do be quiet, all of you! I'm
not come to join you: I'm only
come to be with you awhile, because
I can't bear my own thoughts." And
he folded his arms, and leant
back in his chair; so we let
him be. But I left the glass
by him; and, after awhile, Grimsby
directed my attention towards
it, by a significant wink; and,
on turning my head, I saw it
was drained to the bottom. He
made me a sign to replenish,
and quietly pushed up the bottle.
I willingly complied; but Lowborough
detected the pantomime, and,
nettled at the intelligent grins
that were passing between us,
snatched the glass from my hand,
dashed the contents of it in
Grimsby's face, threw the empty
tumbler at me, and then bolted
from the room.'
'I hope he broke your head,'
said I.
'No, love,' replied he, laughing
immoderately at the recollection
of the whole affair; 'he would
have done so, - and perhaps,
spoilt my face, too, but, providentially,
this forest of curls' (taking
off his hat, and showing his
luxuriant chestnut locks) 'saved
my skull, and prevented the glass
from breaking, till it reached
the table.'
'After that,'
he continued, 'Lowborough kept
aloof from us
a week or two longer. I used
to meet him occasionally in the
town; and then, as I was too
good-natured to resent his unmannerly
conduct, and he bore no malice
against me, - he was never unwilling
to talk to me; on the contrary,
he would cling to me, and follow
me anywhere but to the club,
and the gaming-houses, and such-like
dangerous places of resort -
he was so weary of his own moping,
melancholy mind. At last, I got
him to come in with me to the
club, on condition that I would
not tempt him to drink; and,
for some time, he continued to
look in upon us pretty regularly
of an evening, - still abstaining,
with wonderful perseverance,
from the "rank poison" he had
so bravely forsworn. But some
of our members protested against
this conduct. They did not like
to have him sitting there like
a skeleton at a feast, instead
of contributing his quota to
the general amusement, casting
a cloud over all, and watching,
with greedy eyes, every drop
they carried to their lips -
they vowed it was not fair; and
some of them maintained that
he should either be compelled
to do as others did, or expelled
from the society; and swore that,
next time he showed himself,
they would tell him as much,
and, if he did not take the warning,
proceed to active measures. However,
I befriended him on this occasion,
and recommended them to let him
be for a while, intimating that,
with a little patience on our
parts, he would soon come round
again. But, to be sure, it was
rather provoking; for, though
he refused to drink like an honest
Christian, it was well known
to me that he kept a private
bottle of laudanum about him,
which he was continually soaking
at - or rather, holding off and
on with, abstaining one day and
exceeding the next - just like
the spirits.
'One night,
however, during one of our
orgies - one of our
high festivals, I mean - he glided
in, like the ghost in "Macbeth," and
seated himself, as usual, a little
back from the table, in the chair
we always placed for "the spectre," whether
it chose to fill it or not. I
saw by his face that he was suffering
from the effects of an overdose
of his insidious comforter; but
nobody spoke to him, and he spoke
to nobody. A few sidelong glances,
and a whispered observation,
that "the ghost was come," was
all the notice he drew by his
appearance, and we went on with
our merry carousals as before,
till he startled us all by suddenly
drawing in his chair, and leaning
forward with his elbows on the
table, and exclaiming with portentous
solemnity, - "Well! it puzzles
me what you can find to be so
merry about. What you see in
life I don't know - I see only
the blackness of darkness, and
a fearful looking for of judgment
and fiery indignation!"
'All the company simultaneously
pushed up their glasses to him,
and I set them before him in
a semicircle, and, tenderly patting
him on the back, bid him drink,
and he would soon see as bright
a prospect as any of us; but
he pushed them back, muttering,
-
'"Take them away! I won't taste
it, I tell you. I won't - I won't!" So
I handed them down again to the
owners; but I saw that he followed
them with a glare of hungry regret
as they departed. Then he clasped
his hands before his eyes to
shut out the sight, and two minutes
after lifted his head again,
and said, in a hoarse but vehement
whisper, -
'"And yet I
must! Huntingdon, get me a
glass!"
'"Take the bottle, man!" said
I, thrusting the brandy-bottle
into his hand - but stop, I'm
telling too much,' muttered the
narrator, startled at the look
I turned upon him. 'But no matter,'
he recklessly added, and thus
continued his relation: 'In his
desperate eagerness, he seized
the bottle and sucked away, till
he suddenly dropped from his
chair, disappearing under the
table amid a tempest of applause.
The consequence of this imprudence
was something like an apoplectic
fit, followed by a rather severe
brain fever - '
'And what did you think of
yourself, sir?' said I, quickly.
'Of course, I was very penitent,'
he replied. 'I went to see him
once or twice - nay, twice or
thrice - or by'r lady, some four
times - and when he got better,
I tenderly brought him back to
the fold.'
'What do you mean?'
'I mean, I
restored him to the bosom of
the club, and compassionating
the feebleness of his health
and extreme lowness of his spirits,
I recommended him to "take a
little wine for his stomach's
sake," and, when he was sufficiently
re-established, to embrace the
media-via, ni-jamais-ni-toujours
plan - not to kill himself like
a fool, and not to abstain like
a ninny - in a word, to enjoy
himself like a rational creature,
and do as I did; for, don't think,
Helen, that I'm a tippler; I'm
nothing at all of the kind, and
never was, and never shall be.
I value my comfort far too much.
I see that a man cannot give
himself up to drinking without
being miserable one-half his
days and mad the other; besides,
I like to enjoy my life at all
sides and ends, which cannot
be done by one that suffers himself
to be the slave of a single propensity
- and, moreover, drinking spoils
one's good looks,' he concluded,
with a most conceited smile that
ought to have provoked me more
than it did.
'And did Lord Lowborough profit
by your advice?' I asked.
'Why, yes, in a manner. For
a while he managed very well;
indeed, he was a model of moderation
and prudence - something too
much so for the tastes of our
wild community; but, somehow,
Lowborough had not the gift of
moderation: if he stumbled a
little to one side, he must go
down before he could right himself:
if he overshot the mark one night,
the effects of it rendered him
so miserable the next day that
he must repeat the offence to
mend it; and so on from day to
day, till his clamorous conscience
brought him to a stand. And then,
in his sober moments, he so bothered
his friends with his remorse,
and his terrors and woes, that
they were obliged, in self- defence,
to get him to drown his sorrows
in wine, or any more potent beverage
that came to hand; and when his
first scruples of conscience
were overcome, he would need
no more persuading, he would
often grow desperate, and be
as great a blackguard as any
of them could desire - but only
to lament his own unutterable
wickedness and degradation the
more when the fit was over.
'At last, one day when he and
I were alone together, after
pondering awhile in one of his
gloomy, abstracted moods, with
his arms folded and his head
sunk on his breast, he suddenly
woke up, and vehemently grasping
my arm, said, -
'"Huntingdon,
this won't do! I'm resolved
to have done with
it."
'"What, are you going to shoot
yourself?" said I.
'"No; I'm going
to reform."
'"Oh, that's
nothing new! You've been going
to reform these twelve
months and more."
'"Yes, but you wouldn't let
me; and I was such a fool I couldn't
live without you. But now I see
what it is that keeps me back,
and what's wanted to save me;
and I'd compass sea and land
to get it - only I'm afraid there's
no chance." And he sighed as
if his heart would break.
'"What is it, Lowborough?" said
I, thinking he was fairly cracked
at last.
'"A wife," he answered; "for
I can't live alone, because my
own mind distracts me, and I
can't live with you, because
you take the devil's part against
me."
'"Who - I?"
'"Yes - all
of you do - and you more than
any of them, you
know. But if I could get a wife,
with fortune enough to pay off
my debts and set me straight
in the world - "
'"To be sure," said
I.
'"And sweetness and goodness
enough," he continued, "to make
home tolerable, and to reconcile
me to myself, I think I should
do yet. I shall never be in love
again, that's certain; but perhaps
that would be no great matter,
it would enable me to choose
with my eyes open - and I should
make a good husband in spite
of it; but could any one be in
love with me? - that's the question.
With your good looks and powers
of fascination" (he was pleased
to say), "I might hope; but as
it is, Huntingdon, do you think
anybody would take me - ruined
and wretched as I am?"
'"Yes, certainly."
'"Who?"
'"Why, any
neglected old maid, fast sinking
in despair, would
be delighted to - "
'"No, no," said he - "it
must be somebody that I can
love."
'"Why, you
just said you never could be
in love again!'
'"Well, love is not the word
- but somebody that I can like.
I'll search all England through,
at all events!" he cried, with
a sudden burst of hope, or desperation. "Succeed
or fail, it will be better than
rushing headlong to destruction
at that d-d club: so farewell
to it and you. Whenever I meet
you on honest ground or under
a Christian roof, I shall be
glad to see you; but never more
shall you entice me to that devil's
den!"
'This was shameful language,
but I shook hands with him, and
we parted. He kept his word;
and from that time forward he
has been a pattern of propriety,
as far as I can tell; but till
lately I have not had very much
to do with him. He occasionally
sought my company, but as frequently
shrunk from it, fearing lest
I should wile him back to destruction,
and I found his not very entertaining,
especially as he sometimes attempted
to awaken my conscience and draw
me from the perdition he considered
himself to have escaped; but
when I did happen to meet him,
I seldom failed to ask after
the progress of his matrimonial
efforts and researches, and,
in general, he could give me
but a poor account. The mothers
were repelled by his empty coffers
and his reputation for gambling,
and the daughters by his cloudy
brow and melancholy temper -
besides, he didn't understand
them; he wanted the spirit and
assurance to carry his point.
'I left him at it when I went
to the continent; and on my return,
at the year's end, I found him
still a disconsolate bachelor
- though, certainly, looking
somewhat less like an unblest
exile from the tomb than before.
The young ladies had ceased to
be afraid of him, and were beginning
to think him quite interesting;
but the mammas were still unrelenting.
It was about this time, Helen,
that my good angel brought me
into conjunction with you; and
then I had eyes and ears for
nobody else. But, meantime, Lowborough
became acquainted with our charming
friend, Miss Wilmot - through
the intervention of his good
angel, no doubt he would tell
you, though he did not dare to
fix his hopes on one so courted
and admired, till after they
were brought into closer contact
here at Staningley, and she,
in the absence of her other admirers,
indubitably courted his notice
and held out every encouragement
to his timid advances. Then,
indeed, he began to hope for
a dawn of brighter days; and
if, for a while, I darkened his
prospects by standing between
him and his sun - and so nearly
plunged him again into the abyss
of despair - it only intensified
his ardour and strengthened his
hopes when I chose to abandon
the field in the pursuit of a
brighter treasure. In a word,
as I told you, he is fairly besotted.
At first, he could dimly perceive
her faults, and they gave him
considerable uneasiness; but
now his passion and her art together
have blinded him to everything
but her perfections and his amazing
good fortune. Last night he came
to me brimful of his new-found
felicity:
'"Huntingdon, I am not a castaway!" said
he, seizing my hand and squeezing
it like a vice. "There is happiness
in store for me yet - even in
this life - she loves me!"
'"Indeed!" said I. "Has
she told you so?"
'"No, but I
can no longer doubt it. Do
you not see how pointedly
kind and affectionate she is?
And she knows the utmost extent
of my poverty, and cares nothing
about it! She knows all the folly
and all the wickedness of my
former life, and is not afraid
to trust me - and my rank and
title are no allurements to her;
for them she utterly disregards.
She is the most generous, high-minded
being that can be conceived of.
She will save me, body and soul,
from destruction. Already, she
has ennobled me in my own estimation,
and made me three times better,
wiser, greater than I was. Oh!
if I had but known her before,
how much degradation and misery
I should have been spared! But
what have I done to deserve so
magnificent a creature?"
'And the cream
of the jest,' continued Mr.
Huntingdon, laughing,
'is, that the artful minx loves
nothing about him but his title
and pedigree, and "that delightful
old family seat."'
'How do you know?' said I.
'She told me
so herself; she said, "As for the man himself,
I thoroughly despise him; but
then, I suppose, it is time to
be making my choice, and if I
waited for some one capable of
eliciting my esteem and affection,
I should have to pass my life
in single blessedness, for I
detest you all!" Ha, ha! I suspect
she was wrong there; but, however,
it is evident she has no love
for him, poor fellow.'
'Then you ought to tell him
so.'
'What! and spoil all her plans
and prospects, poor girl? No,
no: that would be a breach of
confidence, wouldn't it, Helen?
Ha, ha! Besides, it would break
his heart.' And he laughed again.
'Well, Mr. Huntingdon, I don't
know what you see so amazingly
diverting in the matter; I see
nothing to laugh at.'
'I'm laughing at you, just
now, love,' said he, redoubling
his machinations.
And leaving him to enjoy his
merriment alone, I touched Ruby
with the whip, and cantered on
to rejoin our companions; for
we had been walking our horses
all this time, and were consequently
a long way behind. Arthur was
soon at my side again; but not
disposed to talk to him, I broke
into a gallop. He did the same;
and we did not slacken our pace
till we came up with Miss Wilmot
and Lord Lowborough, which was
within half a mile of the park-gates.
I avoided all further conversation
with him till we came to the
end of our ride, when I meant
to jump off my horse and vanish
into the house, before he could
offer his assistance; but while
I was disengaging my habit from
the crutch, he lifted me off,
and held me by both hands, asserting
that he would not let me go till
I had forgiven him.
'I have nothing to forgive,'
said I. 'You have not injured
me.'
'No, darling - God forbid that
I should! but you are angry because
it was to me that Annabella confessed
her lack of esteem for her lover.'
'No, Arthur, it is not that
that displeases me: it is the
whole system of your conduct
towards your friend, and if you
wish me to forget it, go now,
and tell him what sort of a woman
it is that he adores so madly,
and on whom he has hung his hopes
of future happiness.'
'I tell you, Helen, it would
break his heart - it would be
the death of him - besides being
a scandalous trick to poor Annabella.
There is no help for him now;
he is past praying for. Besides,
she may keep up the deception
to the end of the chapter; and
then he will be just as happy
in the illusion as if it were
reality; or perhaps he will only
discover his mistake when he
has ceased to love her; and if
not, it is much better that the
truth should dawn gradually upon
him. So now, my angel, I hope
I have made out a clear case,
and fully convinced you that
I cannot make the atonement you
require. What other requisition
have you to make? Speak, and
I will gladly obey.'
'I have none but this,' said
I, as gravely as before: 'that,
in future, you will never make
a jest of the sufferings of others,
and always use your influence
with your friends for their own
advantage against their evil
propensities, instead of seconding
their evil propensities against
themselves.'
'I will do my utmost,' said
he, 'to remember and perform
the injunctions of my angel monitress;'
and after kissing both my gloved
hands, he let me go.
When I entered my room, I was
surprised to see Annabella Wilmot
standing before my toilet-table,
composedly surveying her features
in the glass, with one hand flirting
her gold-mounted whip, and the
other holding up her long habit.
'She certainly is a magnificent
creature!' thought I, as I beheld
that tall, finely developed figure,
and the reflection of the handsome
face in the mirror before me,
with the glossy dark hair, slightly
and not ungracefully disordered
by the breezy ride, the rich
brown complexion glowing with
exercise, and the black eyes
sparkling with unwonted brilliance.
On perceiving me, she turned
round, exclaiming, with a laugh
that savoured more of malice
than of mirth, - 'Why, Helen!
what have you been doing so long?
I came to tell you my good fortune,'
she continued, regardless of
Rachel's presence. 'Lord Lowborough
has proposed, and I have been
graciously pleased to accept
him. Don't you envy me, dear?'
'No, love,' said I - 'or him
either,' I mentally added. 'And
do you like him, Annabella?'
'Like him! yes, to be sure
- over head and ears in love!'
'Well, I hope you'll make him
a good wife.'
'Thank you, my dear! And what
besides do you hope?'
'I hope you will both love
each other, and both be happy.'
'Thanks; and I hope you will
make a very good wife to Mr.
Huntingdon!' said she, with a
queenly bow, and retired.
'Oh, Miss! how could you say
so to her!' cried Rachel.
'Say what?' replied I.
'Why, that you hoped she would
make him a good wife. I never
heard such a thing!'
'Because I do hope it, or rather,
I wish it; she's almost past
hope.'
'Well,' said she, 'I'm sure
I hope he'll make her a good
husband. They tell queer things
about him downstairs. They were
saying - '
'I know, Rachel. I've heard
all about him; but he's reformed
now. And they have no business
to tell tales about their masters.'
'No, mum - or else, they have
said some things about Mr. Huntingdon
too.'
'I won't hear them, Rachel;
they tell lies.'
'Yes, mum,' said she, quietly,
as she went on arranging my hair.
'Do you believe them, Rachel?'
I asked, after a short pause.
'No, Miss, not all. You know
when a lot of servants gets together
they like to talk about their
betters; and some, for a bit
of swagger, likes to make it
appear as though they knew more
than they do, and to throw out
hints and things just to astonish
the others. But I think, if I
was you, Miss Helen, I'd look
very well before I leaped. I
do believe a young lady can't
be too careful who she marries.'
'Of course not,' said I; 'but
be quick, will you, Rachel? I
want to be dressed.'
And, indeed, I was anxious
to be rid of the good woman,
for I was in such a melancholy
frame I could hardly keep the
tears out of my eyes while she
dressed me. It was not for Lord
Lowborough - it was not for Annabella
- it was not for myself - it
was for Arthur Huntingdon that
they rose.
* * * * *
13th. - They are gone, and
he is gone. We are to be parted
for more than two months, above
ten weeks! a long, long time
to live and not to see him. But
he has promised to write often,
and made me promise to write
still oftener, because he will
be busy settling his affairs,
and I shall have nothing better
to do. Well, I think I shall
always have plenty to say. But
oh! for the time when we shall
be always together, and can exchange
our thoughts without the intervention
of these cold go-betweens, pen,
ink, and paper!
22nd. - I have had several
letters from Arthur already.
They are not long, but passing
sweet, and just like himself,
full of ardent affection, and
playful lively humour; but there
is always a 'but' in this imperfect
world, and I do wish he would
sometimes be serious. I cannot
get him to write or speak in
real, solid earnest. I don't
much mind it now, but if it be
always so, what shall I do with
the serious part of myself?
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