Tales and Novels, Vol. V by Maria Edgeworth

M >> Maria Edgeworth >> Tales and Novels, Vol. V

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Mr. Mainwaring smiled, and shook his head--smiled again, and sighed, and
hoped Mr. Vivian was right, and observed that time would show; and that,
at all events, he trusted Mr. Vivian would keep profoundly secret the
hint which his friendship had, indiscreetly perhaps, hazarded.

Scarcely had Mr. Mainwaring retired, when Captain Pickering met and
seized upon Vivian, led to the same subject, and gave similar hints,
that Russell was the happy rival who had secretly made himself master of
Lady Julia's heart. Vivian, though much astonished, finding that these
gentlemen agreed in their discoveries or their suspicions, still
defended his friend Russell, and strongly protested that he would be
responsible for his honour with his life, if it were necessary. The
captain shrugged his shoulders, said it was none of his business, that,
as Mr. Vivian _took it up so warmly,_ he should let it drop; for it was
by no means his intention to get into a quarrel with Mr. Vivian, for
whom he had a particular regard. This said, with all the frankness of a
soldier, Captain Pickering withdrew, adding, as the clergyman passed at
this instant, "There's a man who could tell you more than any of us, if
he would, but _snug's_ the word with Wicksted."

Vivian, in great anxiety and much curiosity, appealed to Mr. Wicksted:
he protested that he knew nothing, suspected nothing, at least could
venture to say nothing; for these were very delicate family matters, and
every gentleman should, on these occasions, make it a principle to see
with his own eyes. Gradually, however, Mr. Wicksted let out his opinion,
and implied infinitely more than Captain Pickering or Mr. Mainwaring had
asserted. Vivian still maintained, in the warmest terms, that it was
impossible his friend Russell should be to blame. Mr. Wicksted simply
pronounced the word _friend_ with a peculiar emphasis, and, with an
incredulous smile, left him to his reflections. Those reflections were
painful; for, though he defended Russell from the attacks of others, yet
he had not sufficient firmness of mind completely to resist the
suggestions of suspicion and jealousy, particularly when they had been
corroborated by so many concurring testimonies. He had no longer the
courage to go immediately to Russell, to tell him of his proposal for
Lady Julia, or to speak to him of any of his secret feelings; but,
turning away from the staircase that led to his friend's apartment, he
determined to observe Russell with his own eyes, before he should decide
upon the truth or falsehood of the accusations which had been brought
against him. Alas! Vivian was no longer in a condition to observe with
his own eyes; his imagination was so perturbed, that he could neither
see nor hear any thing as it really was. When he next saw Russell and
Lady Julia together, he wondered at his blindness in not having sooner
perceived their mutual attachment: notwithstanding that Lady Julia had
now the strongest motives to suppress every indication of her passion,
symptoms of it broke out continually, the more violent, perhaps, from
her endeavours to conceal them. He knew that she was passionately in
love with Russell; and that Russell should not have perceived what every
other man, even every indifferent spectator, had discovered, appeared
incredible. Russell's calm manner and entire self-possession sometimes
provoked Vivian, and sometimes quelled his suspicions; sometimes he
looked upon this calmness as the extreme of art, sometimes as a proof of
innocence, which could not be counterfeit. At one moment he was so much
struck with Russell's friendly countenance, that, quite ashamed of his
suspicions, he was upon the point of speaking openly to him; but,
unfortunately, these intentions were frustrated by some slight obstacle.
At length Miss Strictland, who had lately been very courteous to Mr.
Vivian, took an opportunity of drawing him into one of the recessed
windows; where, with infinite difficulty in bringing herself to speak on
such a subject, after inconceivable bridlings of the head, and
contortions of every muscle of her neck, she insinuated to him her
fears, that my Lord Glistonbury's confidence had been very ill placed in
Lord Lidhurst's tutor: she was aware that Mr. Russell had the honour of
Mr. Vivian's friendship, but nothing could prevent her from speaking,
where she felt it to be so much her duty; and that, as from the
unfortunate circumstances in the family she had no longer any influence
over Lady Julia Lidhurst, nor any chance of being listened to on such a
subject with patience by Lord Glistonbury, she thought the best course
she could take was to apply to Mr. Russell's friend, who might possibly,
by his interference, prevent the utter disgrace and ruin of one branch
of a noble family.

Miss Strictland, in all she said, hinted not at Vivian's attachment to
Lady Julia, and gave him no reason to believe that she was apprised of
his having proposed for her ladyship: she spoke with much moderation and
candour; attributed all Lady Julia's errors to the imprudence of her new
governess, Miss Bateman. Miss Strictland now showed a desire not to
make, but to prevent mischief; even the circumlocutions and stiffness of
her habitual prudery did not, on this occasion, seem unseasonable;
therefore what she suggested made a great impression on Vivian. He
still, however, defended Russell, and assured Miss Strictland that, from
the long experience he had himself had of his friend's honour, he was
convinced that no temptation could shake his integrity. Miss Strictland
had formed her opinion on this point, she said, and it would be in vain
to argue against it. Every new assertion; the belief of each new person
who spoke to him on the subject; the combination, the coincidence of all
their opinions, wrought his mind to such a height of jealousy, that he
was now absolutely incapable of using his reason. He went in search of
Russell, but in no fit mood to speak to him as he ought. He looked for
him in his own, in Lord Lidhurst's apartment, in every sitting-room in
the castle; but Mr. Russell was not to be found: at last Lady Sarah's
maid, who heard him inquiring for Mr. Russell from the servants, told
him, "she fancied that if he took the trouble to go to the west walk, he
might find Mr. Russell, as that was a favourite walk of his." Vivian
hurried thither, with a secret expectation of finding Lady Julia with
him--there they both were in earnest conversation: as he approached, the
trees concealed him from view; and Vivian heard his own name repeated.
"Stop!" cried he, advancing: "let me not overhear your secrets--I am not
a traitor to my friends!"

As he spoke, his eyes fixed with an expression of concentrated rage upon
Russell. Terrified by Vivian's sudden appearance and strange address,
and still more by the fierce look he cast on Russell, Lady Julia started
and uttered a faint scream. With astonishment, but without losing his
self-command, Russell advanced towards Vivian, saying, "You are out of
your senses, my dear friend!--I will not listen to you in your present
humour. Take a turn or two with me to cool yourself. The anger of a
friend should always be allowed three minutes' grace, at least," added
Russell, smiling, and endeavouring to draw Vivian away: but Vivian
stood immoveable; Russell's calmness, instead of bringing him to his
senses, only increased his anger; to his distempered imagination this
coolness seemed perfidious dissimulation.

"You cannot deceive me longer, Mr. Russell, by all your art!" cried he.
"Though I am the last to open my eyes, I have opened them. Why did you
pretend to be my counsellor and friend, when you were my rival?--when
you knew that you were my successful rival?----Yes, start and affect
astonishment! Yes--look, if you can, with _innocent_ surprise upon that
lady!--Say that you have not betrayed her father's confidence!--say,
that you have not practised upon her unguarded heart!--say, that you do
not know that she loves you to distraction!"

"Oh! Mr. Vivian, what have you done?" cried Lady Julia: she could say no
more, but fell senseless on the ground. Vivian's anger was at once
sobered by this sight.

"What have I done!" repeated he, as they raised her from the ground.
"Wretch! dishonourable villain that I am! I have betrayed her
secret--But I thought every body knew it!----Is it possible that _you_
did not know it, Russell?"

Russell made no reply, but ran to the river which was near them for some
water--Vivian was incapable of affording any assistance, or even of
forming a distinct idea. As soon as Lady Julia returned to her senses,
Russell withdrew; Vivian threw himself on his knees before her, and said
something about the violence of his passion--his sorrow--and her
forgiveness. "Mr. Vivian," said Lady Julia, turning to him with a
mixture of despair and dignity in her manner, "do not kneel to me; do
not make use of any commonplace phrases--I cannot, at this moment,
forgive you--you have done me an irreparable injury. I confided a secret
to you--a secret known to no human being but my father and yourself--you
have revealed it, and to whom?--Sooner would I have had it proclaimed to
the whole world than to ----; for what is the opinion of the whole world
to me, compared to his?--Sir, you have done me, indeed, an irremediable
injury!--I trusted to your honour--your discretion--and you have
betrayed, sacrificed me."

"Vile suspicions!" cried Vivian, striking his forehead: "how could I
listen to them for a moment!"

"Suspicions of Mr. Russell!" cried Julia, with a look of high
indignation--"Suspicions of your noble-minded friend!--What wickedness,
or what weakness!"

"Weakness!--miserable weakness!--the sudden effect of jealousy; and
could you know, Lady Julia, by what means, by what arts, my mind was
worked up to this insanity!"

"I cannot listen to this now, Mr. Vivian," interrupted Lady Julia: "my
thoughts cannot fix upon such things--I cannot go back to the past--what
is done cannot be undone--what has been said cannot be unsaid.--You
cannot recall your words--they were heard--they were understood. I beg
you to leave me, sir, that I may have leisure to _think_--if possible,
to consider what yet remains for me to do. I have no friend--none, none
willing or capable of advising me! I begged of you to leave me, sir."

Vivian could not, at this moment, decide whether he ought or ought not
to tell Lady Julia that her secret was known, or at least suspected, by
many individuals of the family.

"There's a servant on the terrace who seems to be looking for us," said
Vivian; "I had something of consequence to say--but this man--"

"My lady, Miss Bateman desired me to let you know, my lady, that there
is the Lady Playdels, and the colonel, and Sir James, in the
drawing-room, just come;--and she begs, my lady, you will be pleased to
come to them; for Miss Bateman's waiting for you, my lady, to repeat the
verses, she bid me say, my lady."

"Go to them, Mr. Vivian; I cannot go."

"My lady," persisted the footman, "my lord himself begged you to come;
and he and all the gentlemen have been looking for you every where."

"Return to my father, then, and say that I am coming immediately."

"Forced into company!" thought Lady Julia, as she walked slowly towards
the house; "compelled to appear calm and gay, when my heart is--what a
life of dissimulation! How unworthy of me, formed, as I was once
pronounced to be, for every thing that is good and great!--But I am no
longer mistress of myself--no soul left but for one object. Why did I
not better guard my heart?--No!--rather, why can I not follow its
dictates, and at once avow and justify its choice?"

Vivian interrupted Lady Julia's reverie by pointing out to her, as they
passed along the terrace, a group of heads, in one of the back windows
of the castle, that seemed to be watching them very earnestly. Miss
Strictland's face was foremost; half her body was out of the window; and
as she drew back, they heard her say--"It is not he!--It is not he!"--As
they passed another front of the castle, another party seemed to be upon
the watch at a staircase window;--the lawyer, the captain, the
clergyman's heads appeared for a moment, and vanished.

"They seem all to be upon the watch for us," said Vivian.

"Meanness!" cried Lady Julia. "To watch or to be watched, I know not
which is most degrading; but I cannot think they are watching us."

"My dear Lady Julia!--yet let me call you dear this once--my hopes are
gone!--even for your forgiveness I have no right to hope--but let me
do you one piece of service--let me put your open temper on its guard.
You flatter yourself that the secret you confided to me is not known
to any body living but to your father--I have reason to believe that
it is suspected, if not positively known, by several other persons in
this castle."

"Impossible!"

"I am certain, too certain, of what I say."

Lady Julia made a sudden stop; and, after a pause, exclaimed--

"Then farewell hope! and, with hope, farewell fear!"

"My lady, my lord sent me again, for my lord's very impatient for you,
my lady," said the same footman, returning. Lord Glistonbury met them in
the hall.--"Why, Julia! where have you been all this time?" he began, in
an imperious tone; but seeing Mr. Vivian, his brow grew smooth and his
voice good-humoured instantly.--"Ha!--So! so!--Hey! well!--All right!
all right!--Good girl! good girl!--Time for every thing--Hey! Mr.
Vivian?--'Que la solitude est charmante!' as Voltaire says--Beg pardon
for sending for you; but interruption, you know, prevents
_tetes-a-tetes_ on the stage from growing tiresome; and the stage, they
say, holds the mirror up to nature. But there's no nature now left to
hold the mirror up to, except in a few odd instances, as in my Julia
here!--Where so fast, my blushing darling?"

"I thought you wished, sir, that I should go to Lady Playdel and
Sir James."

"Ay, ay, I sent for you to repeat those charming verses for them that I
could not clearly remember.--Go up! go up!--We'll follow you!--We have a
word or two to say about something--that's nothing to you."

Lord Glistonbury kept Vivian for a full hour in a state of considerable
embarrassment, talking to him of Lady Julia, implying that she was
favourably disposed towards him, but that she had a little pride, that
might make her affect the contrary at first. Then came a disquisition on
pride, with quotations and commonplaces;--then an eulogium, by his
lordship, on his lordship's own knowledge of the human heart, and more
especially of that "moving toyshop," the female heart; then anecdotes
illustrative, comprising the gallantries of thirty years in various
ranks of life, with suitable bon-mots and embellishments;--then a little
French sentiment, by way of moral, with some philosophical axioms, to
show that, though he had led such a gay life, he had been a deep
thinker, and that, though nobody could have thought that he had had time
for reading, his genius had supplied him, he could not himself really
tell how, with what other people with the study of years could not
master:--all which Vivian was compelled to hear, whilst he was the whole
time impatient to get away, that he might search for Mr. Russell, with
whom he was anxious to have an explanation. But, at last, when Lord
Glistonbury set him free, he was not nearer to his object. Mr. Russell,
he found upon inquiry, had not returned to the castle, nor did he return
to dinner; he sent word that he was engaged to dine with a party of
gentlemen at a literary club, in a country town nine miles distant.
Vivian spent the greatest part of the evening in Lord Lidhurst's
apartment, expecting Russell's return; but it grew so late, that Lord
Lidhurst, who was still indisposed, went to bed; and when Vivian quitted
his lordship, he met Russell's servant in the gallery, who said his
master had been come in an hour ago: "but, sir," added the man, "my
master won't let you see him, I am sure; for he would not let me in, and
he said, that, if you asked for him, I was to answer, that he could not
see you to-night."--Vivian knocked in vain at Russell's door; he could
not gain admission; so he went reluctantly to bed, determined to rise
very early, that he might see his friend as soon as possible, obtain his
forgiveness for the past, and ask his advice for the future.

CHAPTER X.

Suspense, curiosity, love, jealousy, remorse, any one of which is enough
to keep a person awake all night, by turns agitated poor Vivian so
violently, that for several hours he could not close his eyes; but at
last, when quite exhausted, he fell into a profound sleep. The first
image that came before his mind, when he awoke in the morning, was that
of Lady Julia; his next recollection was of Russell.

"Is Mr. Russell up yet?" said Vivian to his servant, who was bringing in
his boots.

"Up, sir! Oh, yes, hours ago!--He was _off_ at daybreak!"

"Off!" cried Vivian, starting up in his bed; "off!--Where is he gone?"

"I can't say, sir. Yes, indeed, sir, I heard Mr. Russell's man say, that
his master was going post to the north, to some old uncle that was taken
ill, which he heard about at dinner from some of those gentlemen where
he dined yesterday; but I can't say positively. But here's a letter he
left for you with me."

"A letter!--Give it me!--Why didn't you give it me sooner?"

"Why really, sir, you lay so sound, I didn't care to waken you; and I
was up so late myself, too, last night."

"Leave me now; I'll ring when I want you."

"TO C. VIVIAN, ESQ.

"I would not see you, after what passed yesterday, because I feared that
I should not speak to you with temper. Lest you should misinterpret any
thing I have formerly said, I must now solemnly assure you, that I never
had the slightest suspicion of the secret you revealed to me till the
moment when it was betrayed by your indiscretion. Still I can scarcely
credit what appears to me so improbable; but, even under this
uncertainty, I think it my duty to leave this family. Had the slightest
idea of what you suggested ever crossed my imagination, I should then
have acted as I do now. I say this, not to justify myself, but to
convince you, that what I formerly hinted about reserve of manners and
prudence was merely a _general reflection_.

"For my own part, I seem to act HEROICALLY; but I must disclaim that
applause to which I am not entitled. All powerful as the temptation must
appear to you, dangerous as it must have been, in other circumstances,
to me, I cannot claim any merit for resisting its influence. My safety I
owe neither to my own prudence or fortitude. I must now, Vivian, impart
to you a secret which you are at liberty to confide where and when you
think necessary--my heart is, and has long been, engaged. Whilst you
were attached to Miss Sidney, I endeavoured to subdue my love for her;
and every symptom of it was, I hope and believe, suppressed. This
declaration cannot now give you any pain; except so far as it may,
perhaps, excite in your mind some remorse for having unwarrantably,
unworthily, and weakly, suffered yourself to feel suspicions of a true
friend. Well as I know the infirmity of your character, and willing as I
have always been to make allowance for a fault which I thought time and
experience would correct, I was not prepared for this last stroke; I
never thought your weakness of mind would have shown itself in suspicion
of your best, your long-tried friend.--But I am at last convinced that
your mind is not strong enough for confidence and friendship. I pity,
but I see that I can no longer serve; and I feel that I can no longer
esteem you. Farewell! Vivian. May you find a friend, who will supply to
you the place of H. RUSSELL."

Vivian knew Russell's character too well to flatter himself that the
latter part of this letter was written in anger that would quickly
subside; from the tone of the letter he felt that Russell was deeply
offended. In the whole course of his life he had depended on Russell's
friendship as a solid blessing, of which he could never be deprived by
any change of circumstances--by any possible chance in human affairs;
and now to have lost such a friend by his own folly, by his own
weakness, was a misfortune of which he could hardly believe the reality.
At the same moment, too, he learned how nobly Russell had behaved
towards him, in the most trying situation in which the human heart can
be placed. Russell's love for Selina Sidney, Vivian had never till this
instant suspected. "What force, what command of mind!--What
magnanimity!--What a generous friend he has ever been to me!--and I--"

Poor Vivian, always sinning and always penitent, was so much absorbed by
sorrow for the loss of Russell's friendship, that he could not for some
time think even of the interests of his love, or consider the advantage
which he might derive from the absence of his rival, and from that
rival's explicit declaration, that his affections were irrevocably
engaged. By degrees these ideas rose clearly to Vivian's view; his hopes
revived. Lady Julia would see the absolute impossibility of Russell's
returning, or of his accepting her affection; her good sense, her pride,
would in time subdue this hopeless passion; and Vivian was generous
enough, or sufficiently in love, to feel that the value of her heart
would not be diminished, but rather increased in his opinion, by the
sensibility she had shown to the talents and virtues of his friend. _His
friend_, Vivian ventured now to call him; for with the hopes of love,
the hopes of friendship rose.

"All may yet be well!" said he to himself. "Russell will forgive me when
he hears how I was worked upon by those parasites and prudish
busybodies, who infused their vile suspicions into my mind. Weak as it
is, I never will allow that it is incapable of confidence or of
friendship!--No! Russell will retract that harsh sentence. When he is
happy, as I am sure I ardently hope he will be, in Selina's love, he
will restore me to his favour. Without his friendship, I could not be
satisfied with myself, or happy in the full accomplishment of all my
other fondest hopes."

By the time that hope had thus revived and renovated our hero's soul; by
the time that his views of things had totally changed, and that the
colour of his future destiny had turned from black to white--from all
gloom to all sunshine; the minute-hand of the clock had moved with
unfeeling regularity, or, in plain unmeasured prose, it was now eleven
o'clock, and three times Vivian had been warned that breakfast was
ready. When he entered the room, the first thing he heard, as usual, was
Miss Bateman's voice, who was declaiming upon some sentimental point, in
all "the high sublime of deep absurd." Vivian, little interested in this
display, and joining neither in the open flattery nor in the secret
ridicule with which the gentlemen wits and amateurs listened to the
Rosamunda, looked round for Lady Julia. "She breakfasts in her own room
this morning," whispered Lord Glistonbury, before Vivian had even
pronounced her ladyship's name.

"So!" said Mr. Pickering, "we have lost Mr. Russell this morning!"

"Yes," said Lord Glistonbury, "he was forced to hurry away to the north,
I find, to an old sick uncle."

"Lord Lidhurst, I'm afraid, will break his heart for want of him," cried
the lawyer, in a tone that might either pass for earnest or irony,
according to the fancy of the interpreter.

"Lord Lidhurst, did you say?"--cried the captain: "are you sure you
meant Lord Lidhurst? I don't apprehend that a young nobleman ever broke
his heart after his tutor. But I was going to remark----"

What farther the captain was going to remark can never be known to the
world; for Lord Glistonbury so startled him by the loud and rather angry
tone in which he called for the cream, which _stood_ with the captain,
that all his few ideas were put to flight. Mr. Pickering, who noticed
Lord Glistonbury's displeasure, now resumed the conversation about Mr.
Russell in a new tone; and the lawyer and he joined in a eulogy upon
that gentleman. Lord Glistonbury said not a word, but looked
embarrassed. Miss Strictland cleared her throat several times, and
looked infinitely more rigid and mysterious than usual. Lady Glistonbury
and Lady Sarah, ditto--ditto. Almost every body, except such visitors as
were strangers at the castle, perceived that there was something
extraordinary going on in the family; and the gloom and constraint
spread so, that, towards the close of breakfast, nothing was uttered, by
prudent people, but awkward sentences about the weather--the wind--and
the likelihood of there being a mail from the continent. Still through
all this, regardless and unknowing of it all, the Rosamunda talked on,
happily abstracted, egotistically secured from the pains of sympathy or
of curiosity by the all-sufficient power of vanity. Even her patron,
Lord Glistonbury, was at last provoked and disgusted. He was heard,
under his breath, to pronounce a contemptuous _Pshaw!_ and, as he rose
from the breakfast table he whispered to Vivian, "There's a woman, now,
who thinks of nothing living but herself!--All talkee talkee!--I begin
to be weary of her.----Gentlemen," continued his lordship, "I've letters
to write this morning.----You'll ride--you'll walk--you're for the
billiard-room, I suppose.----Mr. Vivian, I shall find you in my study, I
hope, an hour hence; but first I have a little business to settle." With
evident embarrassment Lord Glistonbury retired. Lady Glistonbury, Lady
Sarah, and Miss Strictland, each sighed; then, with looks of
intelligence, rose and retired. The company separated soon afterwards;
and went to ride, to walk, or to the billiard-room, and Vivian to the
study, to wait there for Lord Glistonbury, and to meditate upon what
might be the nature of his lordship's business. As Vivian crossed the
gallery, the door of Lady Glistonbury's dressing-room opened, and was
shut again instantaneously by Miss Strictland; but not before he saw
Lady Julia kneeling at her father's feet, whilst Lady Glistonbury and
Lady Sarah were standing like statues, on each side of his lordship.
Vivian waited a full hour afterwards in tedious suspense in the study.
At last he heard doors open and footsteps, and he judged that the family
council had broken up; he laid down a book, of which he had read the
same page over six times, without any one of the words it contained
having conveyed a single idea to his mind. Lord Glistonbury came in,
with papers and parchments in his hands.

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