October 9th. - It was on the
night of the 4th, a little after
tea, that Annabella had been
singing and playing, with Arthur
as usual at her side: she had
ended her song, but still she
sat at the instrument; and he
stood leaning on the back of
her chair, conversing in scarcely
audible tones, with his face
in very close proximity with
hers. I looked at Lord Lowborough.
He was at the other end of the
room, talking with Messrs. Hargrave
and Grimsby; but I saw him dart
towards his lady and his host
a quick, impatient glance, expressive
of intense disquietude, at which
Grimsby smiled. Determined to
interrupt the TETE-E-TETE, I
rose, and, selecting a piece
of music from the music stand,
stepped up to the piano, intending
to ask the lady to play it; but
I stood transfixed and speechless
on seeing her seated there, listening,
with what seemed an exultant
smile on her flushed face to
his soft murmurings, with her
hand quietly surrendered to his
clasp. The blood rushed first
to my heart, and then to my head;
for there was more than this:
almost at the moment of my approach,
he cast a hurried glance over
his shoulder towards the other
occupants of the room, and then
ardently pressed the unresisting
hand to his lips. On raising
his eyes, he beheld me, and dropped
them again, confounded and dismayed.
She saw me too, and confronted
me with a look of hard defiance.
I laid the music on the piano,
and retired. I felt ill; but
I did not leave the room: happily,
it was getting late, and could
not be long before the company
dispersed.
I went to the fire, and leant
my head against the chimney-piece.
In a minute or two, some one
asked me if I felt unwell. I
did not answer; indeed, at the
time, I knew not what was said;
but I mechanically looked up,
and saw Mr. Hargrave standing
beside me on the rug.
'Shall I get you a glass of
wine?' said he.
'No, thank you,' I replied;
and, turning from him, I looked
round. Lady Lowborough was beside
her husband, bending over him
as he sat, with her hand on his
shoulder, softly talking and
smiling in his face; and Arthur
was at the table, turning over
a book of engravings. I seated
myself in the nearest chair;
and Mr. Hargrave, finding his
services were not desired, judiciously
withdrew. Shortly after, the
company broke up, and, as the
guests were retiring to their
rooms, Arthur approached me,
smiling with the utmost assurance.
'Are you very angry, Helen?'
murmured he.
'This is no jest, Arthur,'
said I, seriously, but as calmly
as I could - 'unless you think
it a jest to lose my affection
for ever.'
'What! so bitter?' he exclaimed,
laughingly, clasping my hand
between both his; but I snatched
it away, in indignation - almost
in disgust, for he was obviously
affected with wine.
'Then I must go down on my
knees,' said he; and kneeling
before me, with clasped hands,
uplifted in mock humiliation,
he continued imploringly - 'Forgive
me, Helen - dear Helen, forgive
me, and I'll never do it again!'
and, burying his face in his
handkerchief, he affected to
sob aloud.
Leaving him thus employed,
I took my candle, and, slipping
quietly from the room, hastened
up-stairs as fast as I could.
But he soon discovered that I
had left him, and, rushing up
after me, caught me in his arms,
just as I had entered the chamber,
and was about to shut the door
in his face.
'No, no, by heaven, you sha'n't
escape me so!' he cried. Then,
alarmed at my agitation, he begged
me not to put myself in such
a passion, telling me I was white
in the face, and should kill
myself if I did so.
'Let me go, then,' I murmured;
and immediately he released me
- and it was well he did, for
I was really in a passion. I
sank into the easy-chair and
endeavoured to compose myself,
for I wanted to speak to him
calmly. He stood beside me, but
did not venture to touch me or
to speak for a few seconds; then,
approaching a little nearer,
he dropped on one knee - not
in mock humility, but to bring
himself nearer my level, and
leaning his hand on the arm of
the chair, he began in a low
voice: 'It is all nonsense, Helen
- a jest, a mere nothing - not
worth a thought. Will you never
learn,' he continued more boldly,
'that you have nothing to fear
from me? that I love you wholly
and entirely? - or if,' he added
with a lurking smile, 'I ever
give a thought to another, you
may well spare it, for those
fancies are here and gone like
a flash of lightning, while my
love for you burns on steadily,
and for ever, like the sun. You
little exorbitant tyrant, will
not that -?'
'Be quiet a moment, will you,
Arthur?' said I, 'and listen
to me - and don't think I'm in
a jealous fury: I am perfectly
calm. Feel my hand.' And I gravely
extended it towards him - but
closed it upon his with an energy
that seemed to disprove the assertion,
and made him smile. 'You needn't
smile, sir,' said I, still tightening
my grasp, and looking steadfastly
on him till he almost quailed
before me. 'You may think it
all very fine, Mr. Huntingdon,
to amuse yourself with rousing
my jealousy; but take care you
don't rouse my hate instead.
And when you have once extinguished
my love, you will find it no
easy matter to kindle it again.'
'Well, Helen, I won't repeat
the offence. But I meant nothing
by it, I assure you. I had taken
too much wine, and I was scarcely
myself at the time.'
'You often take too much; and
that is another practice I detest.'
He looked up astonished at my
warmth. 'Yes,' I continued; 'I
never mentioned it before, because
I was ashamed to do so; but now
I'll tell you that it distresses
me, and may disgust me, if you
go on and suffer the habit to
grow upon you, as it will if
you don't check it in time. But
the whole system of your conduct
to Lady Lowborough is not referable
to wine; and this night you knew
perfectly well what you were
doing.'
'Well, I'm sorry for it,' replied
he, with more of sulkiness than
contrition: 'what more would
you have?'
'You are sorry that I saw you,
no doubt,' I answered coldly.
'If you had not seen me,' he
muttered, fixing his eyes on
the carpet, 'it would have done
no harm.'
My heart felt ready to burst;
but I resolutely swallowed back
my emotion, and answered calmly,
'You think not?'
'No,' replied he, boldly. 'After
all, what have I done? It's nothing
- except as you choose to make
it a subject of accusation and
distress.'
'What would Lord Lowborough,
your friend, think, if he knew
all? or what would you yourself
think, if he or any other had
acted the same part to me, throughout,
as you have to Annabella?'
'I would blow his brains out.'
'Well, then, Arthur, how can
you call it nothing - an offence
for which you would think yourself
justified in blowing another
man's brains out? Is it nothing
to trifle with your friend's
feelings and mine - to endeavour
to steal a woman's affections
from her husband - what he values
more than his gold, and therefore
what it is more dishonest to
take? Are the marriage vows a
jest; and is it nothing to make
it your sport to break them,
and to tempt another to do the
same? Can I love a man that does
such things, and coolly maintains
it is nothing?'
'You are breaking your marriage
vows yourself,' said he, indignantly
rising and pacing to and fro.
'You promised to honour and obey
me, and now you attempt to hector
over me, and threaten and accuse
me, and call me worse than a
highwayman. If it were not for
your situation, Helen, I would
not submit to it so tamely. I
won't be dictated to by a woman,
though she be my wife.'
'What will you do then? Will
you go on till I hate you, and
then accuse me of breaking my
vows?'
He was silent a. moment, and
then replied: 'You never will
hate me.' Returning and resuming
his former position at my feet,
he repeated more vehemently -
'You cannot hate me as long as
I love you.'
'But how can I believe that
you love me, if you continue
to act in this way? Just imagine
yourself in my place: would you
think I loved you, if I did so?
Would you believe my protestations,
and honour and trust me under
such circumstances? '
'The cases are different,'
he replied. 'It is a woman's
nature to be constant - to love
one and one only, blindly, tenderly,
and for ever - bless them, dear
creatures! and you above them
all; but you must have some commiseration
for us, Helen; you must give
us a little more licence, for,
as Shakespeare has it -
However we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and
unfirm, More longing, wavering,
sooner lost and won Than women's
are.'
'Do you mean by that, that
your fancies are lost to me,
and won by Lady Lowborough?'
'No! heaven is my witness that
I think her mere dust and ashes
in comparison with you, and shall
continue to think so, unless
you drive me from you by too
much severity. She is a daughter
of earth; you are an angel of
heaven; only be not too austere
in your divinity, and remember
that I am a poor, fallible mortal.
Come now, Helen; won't you forgive
me?' he said, gently taking my
hand, and looking up with an
innocent smile.
'If I do, you will repeat the
offence.'
'I swear by - '
'Don't swear; I'll believe
your word as well as your oath.
I wish I could have confidence
in either.'
'Try me, then, Helen: only
trust and pardon me this once,
and you shall see! Come, I am
in hell's torments till you speak
the word.'
I did not speak it, but I put
my hand on his shoulder and kissed
his forehead, and then burst
into tears. He embraced me tenderly;
and we have been good friends
ever since. He has been decently
temperate at table, and well-conducted
towards Lady Lowborough. The
first day he held himself aloof
from her, as far as he could
without any flagrant breach of
hospitality: since that he has
been friendly and civil, but
nothing more - in my presence,
at least, nor, I think, at any
other time; for she seems haughty
and displeased, and Lord Lowborough
is manifestly more cheerful,
and more cordial towards his
host than before. But I shall
be glad when they are gone, for
I have so little love for Annabella
that it is quite a task to be
civil to her, and as she is the
only woman here besides myself,
we are necessarily thrown so
much together. Next time Mrs.
Hargrave calls I shall hail her
advent as quite a relief. I have
a good mind to ask Arthur's leave
to invite the old lady to stay
with us till our guests depart.
I think I will. She will take
it as a kind attention, and,
though I have little relish for
her society, she will be truly
welcome as a third to stand between
Lady Lowborough and me.
The first time the latter and
I were alone together, after
that unhappy evening, was an
hour or two after breakfast on
the following day, when the gentlemen
were gone out, after the usual
time spent in the writing of
letters, the reading of newspapers,
and desultory conversation. We
sat silent for two or three minutes.
She was busy with her work, and
I was running over the columns
of a paper from which I had extracted
all the pith some twenty minutes
before. It was a moment of painful
embarrassment to me, and I thought
it must be infinitely more so
to her; but it seems I was mistaken.
She was the first to speak; and,
smiling with the coolest assurance,
she began, -
'Your husband was merry last
night, Helen: is he often so?'
My blood boiled in my face;
but it was better she should
seem to attribute his conduct
to this than to anything else.
'No,' replied I, 'and never
will be so again, I trust.'
'You gave him a curtain lecture,
did you?'
'No! but I told him I disliked
such conduct, and he promised
me not to repeat it.'
'I thought he looked rather
subdued this morning,' she continued;
'and you, Helen? you've been
weeping, I see - that's our grand
resource, you know. But doesn't
it make your eyes smart? and
do you always find it to answer?'
'I never cry for effect; nor
can I conceive how any one can.'
'Well, I don't know: I never
had occasion to try it; but I
think if Lowborough were to commit
such improprieties, I'd make
him cry. I don't wonder at your
being angry, for I'm sure I'd
give my husband a lesson he would
not soon forget for a lighter
offence than that. But then he
never will do anything of the
kind; for I keep him in too good
order for that.'
'Are you sure you don't arrogate
too much of the credit to yourself.
Lord Lowborough was quite as
remarkable for his abstemiousness
for some time before you married
him, as he is now, I have heard.'
'Oh, about the wine you mean
- yes, he's safe enough for that.
And as to looking askance to
another woman, he's safe enough
for that too, while I live, for
he worships the very ground I
tread on.'
'Indeed! and are you sure you
deserve it?'
'Why, as to that, I can't say:
you know we're all fallible creatures,
Helen; we none of us deserve
to be worshipped. But are you
sure your darling Huntingdon
deserves all the love you give
to him?'
I knew not what to answer to
this. I was burning with anger;
but I suppressed all outward
manifestations of it, and only
bit my lip and pretended to arrange
my work.
'At any rate,' resumed she,
pursuing her advantage, 'you
can console yourself with the
assurance that you are worthy
of all the love he gives to you.'
'You flatter me,' said I; 'but,
at least, I can try to be worthy
of it.' And then I turned the
conversation.
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