Tales And Novels, Volume 1 by Maria Edgeworth

M >> Maria Edgeworth >> Tales And Novels, Volume 1

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How many reflections sometimes pass rapidly in the mind in the course of
a few minutes!

"I am weak, ridiculous, and unjust," said Helen to herself. "Because Lady
Augusta won a silver arrow, am I vexed? Why should I be displeased with
Mr. Mountague's admiring her? I will appear no more like a fool; and
Heaven forbid I should become envious."

As this last thought took possession of her mind, she finished dressing
herself, and went with Emma down to tea. The well-wrought-up dignity with
which Helen entered the parlour was, however, thrown away upon this
occasion; for opposite to her mother at the tea-table there appeared,
instead of Mr. Mountague, only an empty chair, and an empty teacup and
saucer, with a spoon in it. He was gone to the ball; and when Mrs. Temple
and her daughters arrived there, they found him at the bottom of the
country dance, talking in high spirits to his partner, Lady Augusta, who,
in the course of the evening, cast many looks of triumph upon Helen. But
Helen kept to her resolution of commanding her own mind, and maintained
an easy serenity of manner, which the consciousness of superior temper
never fails to bestow. Towards the end of the night, she danced one dance
with Mr. Mountague, and as he was leading her to her place, Lady Augusta,
and two or three of her companions, came up, all seemingly stifling a
laugh. "What is the matter?" said Helen. "Why, my dear creature," said
Lady Augusta, who still apparently laboured under a violent inclination
to laugh, and whispering to Helen, but so loud that she could distinctly
be overheard--"you must certainly be in love."

"Madam!" said Helen, colouring, and much distressed.

"Yes; you certainly must," pursued Lady Augusta, rudely; for ladies of
quality can be as rude, sometimes ruder, than other people. "Must not
she, Lady Di.," appealing to one of her companions, and laughing
affectedly--"must not she be either in love, or out of her senses? Pray,
Miss Temple, put out your foot." Helen put out her foot.

"Ay, that's the black one--well, the other." Now the other was white. The
ill-bred raillery commenced. Helen, though somewhat abashed, smiled with
great good humour, and walked on towards her seat. "What is the matter,
my dear?" said her mother.

"Nothing, madam," answered Mr. Mountague, "but that Miss Helen Temple's
shoes are odd, and her temper--even." These few words, which might pass
in a ball-room, were accompanied with a look of approbation, which made
her ample amends for the pain she had felt. He then sat down by Mrs.
Temple, and, without immediately adverting to any one, spoke with
indignation of coquetry, and lamented that so many beautiful girls should
be spoiled by affectation.

"If they be spoiled, should they bear all the blame?" said Mrs. Temple.
"If young women were not deceived into a belief that affectation pleases,
they would scarcely trouble themselves to practise it so much."

"Deceived!" said Mr. Mountague--"but is any body deceived by a person's
saying, 'I have the honour to be, madam, your obedient, humble servant?'
Besides, as to pleasing--what do we mean? pleasing for a moment, for a
day, or for life?"

"Pleasing for a moment," said Helen, smiling, "is of some consequence;
for, if we take care of the moments, the years will take care of
themselves, you know."

"Pleasing for _one_ moment, though," said Mr. Mountague, "is very
different, as you must perceive, from pleasing _every_ moment."

Here the country dance suddenly stopped, and three or four couple were
thrown into confusion. The gentlemen were stooping down, as if looking
for something on the floor. "Oh, I beg, I insist upon it; you can't think
how much you distress me!" cried a voice which sounded like Lady
Augusta's. Mr. Mountague immediately went to see what was the matter. "It
is only my bracelet," said she, turning to him. "Don't, pray don't
trouble yourself," cried she, as he stooped to assist in collecting the
scattered pearls, which she received with grace in the whitest hand
imaginable. "Nay, now I must insist upon it," said she to Mr. Mountague,
as he stooped again--"you shall not plague yourself any longer." And in
her anxiety to prevent him from plaguing himself any longer, she laid
upon his arm the white hand, which he had an instant before so much
admired. Whether all Mr. Mountague's sober contempt of coquetry was, at
this moment, the prevalent feeling in his mind, we cannot presume to
determine; we must only remark, that the remainder of the evening was
devoted to Lady Augusta; he sat beside her at supper, and paid her a
thousand compliments, which Helen in vain endeavoured to persuade herself
meant nothing more than--"I am, madam, your obedient, humble servant."

"It is half after two," said Mrs. Temple, when she rose to go.

"Half after two!" said Mr. Mountague, as he handed Mrs. Temple to her
carriage--"bless me! can it be so late?"

All the way home Emma and Mrs. Temple were obliged to support the
conversation; for Helen was so extremely entertained with watching the
clouds passing over the moon, that nothing else could engage her
attention.

The gossiping old lady's information respecting Mr. Mountague was as
accurate as the information of gossips usually is found to be. Mr.
Mountague, notwithstanding her opinion and sagacity, _had thoughts of
Miss Helen Temple_. During some months which he had spent at his uncle's,
who lived very near Mrs. Temple, he had had opportunities of studying
Helen's character and temper, which he found perfectly well suited to his
own; but he had never yet declared his attachment to her. Things were in
this undecided situation, when he saw, and was struck with the beauty of
Lady Augusta ----, at this archery-ball. Lord George ---- introduced
him to Lady S----; and, in consequence of a pressing invitation he
received from her ladyship, he went to spend a few days at S---- Hall.

"So Mr. Mountague is going to spend a week at S---- Hall, I find," said
Mrs. Temple, as she and her daughters were sitting at work the morning
after the archery-ball. To this simple observation of Mrs. Temple a
silence, which seemed as if it never would be broken, ensued.

"Helen, my dear!" said Mrs. Temple, in a soft voice.

"Ma'am!" said Helen, starting.

"You need not start so, my dear; I am not going to say any thing very
tremendous. When you and your sister were children, if you remember, I
often used to tell you that I looked forward, with pleasure, to the time
when I should live with you as friends and equals. That time is come; and
I hope, now that your own reason is sufficiently matured to be the guide
of your conduct, that you do not think I any longer desire you to be
governed by my _will_. Indeed," continued she, "I consider you as my
equals in every respect but in _age_; and I wish to make that inequality
useful to you, by giving you, as far as I can, that advantage, which only
_age_ can give--experience."

"You are very kind, dear mother," said Helen.

"But you must be sensible," said Mrs. Temple, in a graver tone, "that it
will depend upon yourselves, in a great measure, whether I _can_ be so
much your friend as I shall wish."

"Oh, mother," said Helen, "_be_ my friend! I shall never have a better;
and, indeed, I want a friend," added she, the tears starting from her
eyes. "You'll think me very silly, very vain. He never gave me any
reason, I'm sure, to think so; but I did fancy that Mr. Mountague liked
me."

"And," said Mrs. Temple, taking her daughter's hand, "without being very
silly or very vain, may not one sometimes be mistaken? Then you thought
you had won Mr. Mountague's heart? But what did you think about your own?
Take care you don't make another mistake (smiling). Perhaps you thought
he never could win yours?"

"I never thought much about that," replied Helen, "till yesterday."

"And to-day," said Mrs. Temple--"what do you think about it to-day?"

"Why," said Helen, "don't you think, mother, that Mr. Mountague has a
great many good qualities?"

"Yes; a great many good qualities, a great many advantages, and, amongst
them, the power of pleasing you."

"He would not think _that_ any advantage," said Helen; "therefore I
should be sorry that he had it."

"And so should I," said Mrs. Temple, "be very sorry that my daughter's
happiness should be out of her own power."

"It is the uncertainty that torments me," resumed Helen, after a pause.
"One moment I fancy that he prefers _me_, the next moment I am certain he
prefers another. Yesterday, when we were coming away from the green, I
heard Mrs. Hargrave say to Lady S---- but why, mother, should I take up
your time with these minute circumstances? I ought not to think any more
about it."

"Ought not!" repeated Mrs. Temple; "my dear, it is a matter of prudence,
rather than duty. By speaking to your mother with so much openness, you
secure her esteem and affection; and, amongst the goods of this life, you
will find the esteem and affection of a mother worth having," concluded
Mrs. Temple, with a smile; and Helen parted from her mother with a
feeling of gratitude, which may securely be expected from an ingenuous
well-educated daughter, who is treated with similar kindness.

No one was ready for breakfast the morning that Mr. Mountague arrived at
S---- Hall, and he spent an hour alone in the breakfast-room. At length
the silence was interrupted by a shrill female voice, which, as it
approached nearer, he perceived to be the voice of a foreigner half
suffocated with ineffectual desire to make her anger intelligible. He
could only distinguish the words--"I ring, ring, ring, ay, twenty time,
and nobody mind my bell nor me, no more dan noting at all." With a
violent push, the breakfast-room door flew open, and Mlle. Panache,
little expecting to find any body there, entered, volubly repeating--"Dey
let me ring, ring, ring!" Surprised at the sight of a gentleman, and a
young gentleman, she repented having been so loud in her anger. However,
upon the second reconnoitring glance at Mr. Mountague, she felt much in
doubt how to behave towards him. Mademoiselle boasted often of the
well-bred instinct, by which she could immediately distinguish "_un homme
comme il faut_" from any other; yet sometimes, like Falstaff's, her
instinct was fallacious. Recollecting that Lady S---- had sent for an
apothecary, she took it into her head that Mr. Mountague was this
apothecary. "Miladi is not visible yet, sir," said she; "does she know
you are here?"

"I hope not, ma'am; for I should be very sorry she were to be disturbed,
after sitting up so late last night."

"Oh, dat will do her no harm, for I gave her, _pardonnez_, some excellent
white wine whey out of my own head last night, when she got into her bed.
I hope you don't make no objection to white wine whey, sir?"

"I!--not in the least, ma'am."

"Oh, I'm glad you don't disapprove of what I've done! You attend many
family in dis country, sir?"

"Madam!" said Mr. Mountague, taking an instant's time to consider what
she could mean by _attend_.

"You _visit_ many family in dis country, sir?" persisted mademoiselle.

"Very few, ma'am; I am a stranger in this part of the world, except at
Mrs. Temple's."

"Madame Temple, ah, _oui_! I know her very well; she has two fine
daughters--I mean when dey have seen more of de world. It's a great pity,
too, dey have never had de advantage of a native, to teach de good
pronunciation _de la langue Francaise_. Madame Temple will repent herself
of dat when it is too late, as I tell her always. But, sir, you have been
at her house. I am sorry we did not hear none of de family had been
indisposed."

"They are all now perfectly well, ma'am," replied Mr. Mountague, "except,
indeed, that Mrs. Temple had a slight cold last week."

"But she is re-establish by your _advise_, I suppose? and she--did she
recommend you to miladi?"

"No, madam," said Mr. Mountague, not a little puzzled by mademoiselle's
phraseology: "Lord George ---- did me the honour to introduce me to
Lady S----."

"Ah, Milord George! are you a long time acquainted wid milord?"

"Yes, ma'am, I have known Lord George many years."

"Ah, many year!--you be de family physician, _apparemment_?"

"The family physician! Oh no, ma'am!" said Mr. Mountague, smiling.

"Eh!" said mademoiselle, "but dat is being too modest. Many take _de
titre_ of physician, I'll engage, wid less pretensions. And," added she,
looking graciously, "_absolument_, I will not have you call yourself de
family _apothicaire_."

At this moment Lord George came in, and shook his family apothecary by
the hand, with an air of familiarity which astounded mademoiselle.
"_Qu'est ce que c'est_?" whispered she to Dashwood, who followed his
lordship: "is not dis his _apothicaire_?" Dashwood, at this question,
burst into a loud laugh. "Mr. Mountague," cried he, "have you been
prescribing for mademoiselle? she asks if you are not an apothecary."

Immediately Lord George, who was fond of a joke, especially where there
was a chance of throwing ridicule upon any body superior to him in
abilities, joined most heartily in Dashwood's mirth; repeating the story,
as "an excellent thing," to every one, as they came down to breakfast;
especially to Lady Augusta, whom he congratulated, the moment she entered
the room, upon her having danced the preceding evening with an
apothecary. "Here he is!" said he, pointing to Mr. Mountague.

"_Ma chere amie! mon coeur!_ tink of my mistaking your Mr. Mountague for
such a sort of person! If you had only told me, sir, dat you were Miladi
Augusta's partner last night, it would have saved me de necessity of
making ten million apologies for my stupidity, dat could not find it out.
_Ma chere amie! Mon coeur!_ Miladi Augusta, will you make my excuse?"

"_Ma chere amie! mon coeur!_" repeated Mr. Mountague to himself: "is it
possible that this woman can be an intimate friend of Lady Augusta?" What
was his surprise, when he discovered that Mlle. Panache had been her
ladyship's governess! He fell into a melancholy reverie for some moments.
"So she has been educated by a vulgar, silly, conceited French
governess!" said he to himself; "but that is her misfortune, not her
fault. She is very young, and a man of sense might make her what he
pleased." When Mr. Mountague recovered from his reverie, he heard the
company, as they seated themselves at the breakfast-table, begin to talk
over the last night's ball. "You did not tire yourself last night with
dancing, my lord," said Dashwood.

"No; I hate dancing," replied Lord George: "I wish the ladies would take
to dancing with one another; I think that would be an excellent scheme."
An aunt of his lordship, who was present, took great offence at this
suggestion of her nephew. She had been used to the deference paid in
former times to the sex; and she said she could not bear to see women
give up their proper places in society. "Really, George," added she,
turning to her nephew, "I wish you would not talk in this manner. The
young men now give themselves the strangest airs. Lady S----, I will
expose him; do you know, last night, he was lolling at his full length
upon a bench in the ball-room, while three young handsome ladies were
standing opposite to him, tired to death."

"They could not be more tired than I was, I am sure, ma'am."

"Why, you had not been dancing, and they had."

"Had they, ma'am? that was not my fault. I did not ask 'em to dance, and
I don't see it was my business to ask 'em to sit down. I did not know who
they were, at any rate," concluded his lordship, sullenly.

"You knew they were women, and as such entitled to your respect."

Lord George gave a sneering smile, looked at Dashwood, and pulled up his
boot.

"Another thing--you were in the house three weeks with Miss Earl last
summer; you met her yesterday evening, and you thought proper not to take
the least notice of her."

"Miss, Earl, ma'am; was she there?"

"Yes, close to you, and you never even bowed to her."

"I did not see her, ma'am."

"Mrs. Earl spoke to you."

"I didn't hear her, ma'am."

"I told you of it at the moment."

"I didn't understand you, ma'am."

"Besides, ma'am," interposed Dashwood, "as to Miss Earl, if she meant
that my lord should bow to her, she should have curtsied first to him."

"Curtsied first to him!"

"Yes, that's the rule--that's the thing now. The ladies are always to
speak first."

"I have nothing more to say, if that be the case. Lady Augusta, what say
you to all this?"

"Oh, that it's shocking to be sure!" said Lady Augusta, "if one thinks of
it; so the only way is not to think about it."

"An excellent bon-mot!" exclaimed Dashwood. "It's _thinking_ that spoils
conversation, and every thing else."

"But," added Lady Augusta, who observed that her bon-mot was not so much
admired by all the company as by Dashwood, "I really only mean, that one
must do as other people do."

"_Assurement_," said mademoiselle; "not dat I approve of the want of
gallantry in our gentlemen, neider. But, I tink, Mademoiselle Earl is as
stiff as de poker, and I don't approve of dat, neider--_Je n'aime pas les
prudes, moi_."

"But, without prudery, may not there be dignity of manners?" said the old
lady, gravely.

"_Dignite!_--Oh, I don't say noting against _dignite_, neider; not but I
tink de English reserve is _de trop_. I tink a lady of a certain rank has
always good _principes_ enough, to be sure, and as to the rest
_qu'importe?_--dat's my notions."

Mr. Mountague looked with anxiety at Lady Augusta, to see what she
thought of her governess's notions; but all that he could judge from her
countenance was that she did not think at all. "Well, she has time enough
before her to learn to think," said he to himself. "I am glad she did not
assent to mademoiselle's _notions_, at least. I hope she has learnt
nothing from her but '_the true French pronunciation_.'"

No sooner was breakfast finished than Lord George ---- gave his
customary morning yawn, and walked as usual to the window. "Come," said
Dashwood, in his free manner--"come, mademoiselle, you must come down
with us to the water-side, and Lady Augusta, I hope."

"Ay," whispered Lord George to Dashwood, "and let's settle our wager
about mademoiselle and my blackamore--don't think I'll let you off that."

"Off!--I'm ready to double the bet, my lord," said Dashwood aloud, and in
the same moment turned to mademoiselle with some high-flown compliment
about the beauty of her complexion, and the dangers of going without a
veil on a hot sunny day.

"Well, Mr. Dashwood, when you've persuaded mademoiselle to take the veil,
we'll set out, if you please," said Lady Augusta.

Mr. Mountague, who kept his attention continually upon Lady Augusta, was
delighted to see that she waited for the elderly lady, who, at breakfast,
had said so much in favour of dignity of manners. Mr. Mountague did not,
at this moment, consider that this elderly lady was Lord George's aunt,
and that the attention paid to her by Lady Augusta might possibly proceed
from motives of policy, not from choice. Young men of open tempers and
generous dispositions are easily deceived by coquettes, because they
cannot stoop to invent the meanness of their artifices. As Mr. Mountague
walked down to the river, Lady Augusta contrived to entertain him so
completely, that Helen Temple never once came into his mind; though he
had sense enough to perceive his danger, he had not sufficient _courage_
to avoid it: it sometimes requires courage to fly from danger. From this
agreeable _tete-a-tete_ he was roused, however, by the voice of Mlle.
Panache, who, in an affected agony, was struggling to get away from
Dashwood, who held both her hands--"No! no!--_Non! non!_ I will not--I
will not, I tell you, I will not."

"Nay, nay," said Dashwood; "but I have sworn to get you into the boat."

"Ah! into de boat _a la bonne heure_; but not wid dat vilain black."

"Well, then, persuade Lord George to send back his man; and you'll
acknowledge, my lord, in that case it's a drawn bet," said Dashwood.

"I! not I. I'll acknowledge nothing," replied his lordship; and he swore
his black Tom should not be sent away: "he's a capital boatman, and I
can't do without him."

"Den I won't stir," said mademoiselle, passionately, to Dashwood.

"Then I must carry you, must I?" cried Dashwood, laughing; and
immediately, to Mr. Mountague's amazement, a romping scene ensued between
this tutor and governess, which ended in Dashwood's carrying mademoiselle
in his arms into the boat, amidst the secret derision of two footmen, and
the undisguised laughter of black Tom, who were spectators of the scene.

Mr. Mountague trembled at the thoughts of receiving a wife from the hands
of a Mlle. Panache; but, turning his eye upon Lady Augusta, he thought
she blushed, and this blush at once saved her, in his opinion, and
increased his indignation against her governess. Mademoiselle being now
alarmed, and provoked by the laughter of the servants, the dry sarcastic
manner of Lord George, the cool air of Mr. Mountague, and the downcast
looks of her pupil, suddenly turned to Dashwood, and in a high angry tone
assured him, "that she had never seen nobody have so much assurance;" and
she demanded, furiously--"how he could ever tink to take such liberties
wid her? Only tell me how you could dare to tink of it?"

"I confess I did not _think_ as I ought to have done, mademoiselle,"
replied Dashwood, looking an apology to Lady Augusta, which, however, he
took great care mademoiselle should not observe. "But your bet, my lord,
if you please," added he, attempting to turn it off in a joke: "there was
no scream--my bet's fairly won."

"I assure you, sir, dis won't do: it's no good joke, I promise you. _Ma
chere amie, mon coeur_," cried mademoiselle to Lady Augusta--"_viens_--
come, let us go--Don't touch that," pursued she, roughly, to black Tom,
who was going to draw away the plank that led to the shore. "I will go
home dis minute, and speak to Miladi S----. _Viens! viens, ma chere
amie!_"--and she darted out of the boat, whilst Dashwood followed, in
vain attempting to stop her. She prudently, however, took the longest way
through the park, that she might have a full opportunity of _listening to
reason_, as Dashwood called it; and before she reached home, she was
perfectly convinced of the expediency of moderate measures. "Let the
thing rest where it is," said Dashwood: "it's a joke, and there's an end
of it; but if you take it in earnest, you know the story might not tell
so well, even if you told it, and there would never be an end of it." All
this, followed by a profusion of compliments, ratified a peace, which the
moment he had made, he laughed at himself for having taken so much
trouble to effect; whilst mademoiselle rested in the blessed persuasion
that Dashwood was desperately in love with her; nay, so little knowledge
had she of the human heart as to believe that the scene which had just
passed was a proof of his passion.

"I wonder where's Miladi Augusta? I thought she was wid me all this
time," said she.

"She's coming; don't you see her at the end of the grove with Mr.
Mountague? We have walked fast,"

"Oh, she can't never walk so fast as me; I tink I am as young as she is."

Dashwood assented, at the same time pondering upon the consequences of
the attachment which he saw rising in Mr. Mountague's mind for Lady
Augusta. If a man of sense were to gain an influence over her, Dashwood
feared that all his hopes would be destroyed, and he resolved to use all
his power over mademoiselle to prejudice her, and by her means to
prejudice her pupil against this gentleman. Mademoiselle's having begun
by taking him for an _apothicaire_, was a circumstance much in favour of
Dashwood's views, because she felt herself pledged to justify, or at
least to persist, in her opinion, that he did not look like _un homme
comme il faut_.

In the mean time Mr. Mountague was walking slowly towards them with Lady
Augusta, who found it necessary to walk as slowly as possible, because of
the heat. He had been reflecting very soberly upon her ladyship's late
blush, which, according to his interpretation, said, as plainly as a
blush could say, all that the most refined sense and delicacy could
dictate. Yet such is, upon some occasions, the inconsistency of the human
mind, that he by no means felt _sure_ that the lady had blushed at all.
Her colour was, perhaps, a shade higher than usual; but then it was hot
weather, and she had been walking. The doubt, however, Mr. Mountague
thought proper to suppress; and the reality of the blush, once thoroughly
established in his imagination, formed the foundation of several
ingenious theories of moral sentiment, and some truly logical deductions.
A passionate admirer of grace and beauty, he could not help wishing that
he might find Lady Augusta's temper and understanding equal to her
personal accomplishments. When we are very anxious to discover
perfections in any character, we generally succeed, or fancy that we
succeed. Mr. Mountague quickly discovered many amiable and interesting
qualities in this fair lady, and, though he perceived some defects, he
excused them to himself with the most philosophic ingenuity.

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