Tales and Novels, Vol. V by Maria Edgeworth

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

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"Mr. Vivian, I am afraid you have been waiting for me--have a thousand
pardons to ask--I really could not come any sooner--I wished to speak to
you--Won't you sit down?--We had better sit down quietly--there's no
sort of hurry."

His lordship, however, seemed to be in great agitation-of spirits; and
Vivian was convinced that his mind must be interested in an
extraordinary manner, because he did not, as was his usual practice,
digress to fifty impertinent episodes before he came to the point. He
only blew his nose sundry times; and then at once said, "I wish to
speak to you, Mr. Vivian, about the proposal you did me the honour to
make for my daughter Julia. Difficulties have occurred on our side--
very extraordinary difficulties--Julia, I understand, has hinted to you,
sir, the nature of those difficulties.--Oh, Mr. Vivian," said Lord
Glistonbury, suddenly quitting the constrained voice in which he spoke,
and giving way to his natural feelings, "you are a man of honour and
feeling, and a father may trust you!----Here's my girl--a charming girl
she is; but knowing nothing of the world--self-willed, romantic,
open-hearted, imprudent beyond conception; do not listen to any of the
foolish things she says to you. You are a man of sense, you love her,
and you are every way suited to her; it is the first wish of my heart--I
tell you frankly--to see her your wife: then do not let her childish
folly persuade you that her affections are engaged--don't listen to any
such stuff. We all know what the first loves of a girl of sixteen must
be--But it's our fault--my fault, my fault, since they will have it
so. I care not whose fault it is; but we have had very improper people
about her--very!--very!--But all may be well yet, if you, sir, will be
steady, and save her--save her from herself. I would farther
suggest----"

Lord Glistonbury was going on, probably, to have weakened by
amplification the effect of what he had said, when Lady Julia entered
the room; and, advancing with dignified determination of manner,
said, "I have your commands, father, that I should see Mr. Vivian
again:--I obey."

"That is right--that is my darling Julia; I always knew she would
justify my high opinion of her." Lord Glistonbury attempted to draw her
towards him fondly; but, with an unaltered manner, that seemed as if she
suppressed strong emotion, she answered, "I do not deserve your
caresses, father; do not oppress me with praise that I cannot merit: I
wish to speak to Mr. Vivian without control and without witness."

Lord Glistonbury rose; and growing red and almost inarticulate with
anger, exclaimed, "Remember, Julia! remember, Lady Julia Lidhurst! that
if you say what you said you would say, and what I said you should not
say--I--Lord Glistonbury, your father--I, as well as all the rest of
your family, utterly disclaim and cast you off for ever!--You'll be a
thing without fortune--without friends--without a name--without a being
in the world--Lady Julia Lidhurst!"

"I am well aware of that," replied Lady Julia, growing quite pale, yet
without changing the determination of her countenance, or abating any
thing from the dignity of her manner: "I am well aware, that on what I
am about to do depends my having, or my ceasing from this moment to
have, fortune, friends, and a father."

Lord Glistonbury stood still for a moment--fixed his eyes upon her as if
he would have read her soul; but, without seeking to elude his inquiry,
her countenance seemed to offer itself to his penetration.

"By Heaven, there is no understanding this girl!" cried his lordship.
"Mr. Vivian, I trust her to your honour--to your knowledge of the
world--to your good sense;--in short, sir, to your love and constancy."

"And I, sir," said Lady Julia, turning to Vivian, after her father had
left the room, and looking at Vivian so as to stop him short as he
approached, and to disconcert him in the commencement of a passionate
speech; "and I, too, sir, trust to your honour, whilst I deprecate your
love. Imprudent as I was in the first confidence I reposed in you, and
much as I have suffered by your rashness, I now stand determined to
reveal to you another yet more important, yet more humiliating
secret--You owe me no gratitude, sir!--I am compelled, by the
circumstances in which I am placed, either to deceive or to trust you. I
must either become your wife, and deceive you most treacherously; or I
must trust you entirely, and tell you why it would be shameful that I
should become your wife--shameful to me and to you."

"To me!--Impossible!" cried Vivian, bursting into some passionate
expressions of love and admiration.

"Listen to me, sir; and do not make any of those rash professions, of
which you will soon repent. You think you are speaking to the same Lady
Julia you saw yesterday--No!--you are speaking to a very different
person--a few hours have made a terrible change. You see before you,
sir, one who has been, till this day, the darling and pride of her
father; who has lived in the lap of luxury; who has been flattered,
admired, by almost all who approached her; who had fortune, and rank,
and fair prospects in life, and youth, and spirits, and all the pride of
prosperity; who had, I believe, good dispositions, perhaps some talents,
and, I may say, a generous heart; who might have been,--but that is all
over--no matter what she might have been--she is

'A tale for ev'ry prating she.'

Fallen!--fallen! fallen under the feet of those who worshipped
her!--fallen below the contempt of the contemptible!--Worse! worse!
fallen in her own opinion--never to rise again."

Lady Julia's voice failed, and she was forced to pause. She sunk upon a
seat, and hid her face--for some moments she neither saw nor heard; but
at last, raising her head, she perceived Vivian.

"You are in amazement, sir! and I see you pity me; but let me beg of you
to restrain your feelings--my own are as much as I can bear. O that I
could recall a few hours of my existence! But I have not yet been able
to tell you what has passed. My father, my friends, wish to conceal it
from you: but, whatever I have done, however low I have sunk, I will not
deceive, nor be an accomplice in deceit. From my own lips you shall hear
all. This morning at daybreak, not being able to sleep, and having some
suspicion that Mr. Russell would leave the castle, I rose, and whilst I
was dressing, I heard the trampling of horses in the court. I looked out
of my window, and saw Mr. Russell's man saddling his master's horse. I
heard Mr. Russell, a moment afterwards, order the servant to take the
horses to the great gate on the north road, and wait for him there, as
he intended to walk through the park. I thought these were the last
words I should ever hear him speak.--Love took possession of me--I stole
softly down the little staircase that leads from my turret to one of the
back doors, and got out of the castle, as I thought, unobserved: I
hurried on, and waited in the great oak wood, through which I knew Mr.
Russell would pass. When I saw him coming nearer and nearer to me, I
would have given the world to have been in my own room again--I hid
myself among the trees--yet, when he walked on in reverie without
noticing me, taking me probably for one of the servants, I could not
bear to think that this was the last moment I should ever see him, and I
exclaimed--I know not what; but I know that at the sound of my voice Mr.
Russell started, and never can I forget the look--Spare me the rest!
--No!--I will not spare myself--I offered my heart, my hand,--and they
were rejected!--In my madness I told him I regarded neither wealth, nor
rank, nor friends, nor--That I would rather live with him in obscurity
than be the greatest princess upon earth--I said this and more--and I
was rejected--And even at this moment, instead of the vindictive
passions which are said to fill the soul of a woman scorned, I feel
admiration for your noble friend: I have not done him justice; I cannot
repeat his words, or describe his manner. He persuaded, by his eloquence
compelled, me to return to this castle. He took from me all hope; he
destroyed by one word all my illusions--he told me that he loves
another. He has left me to despair, to disgrace; and yet I love, esteem,
and admire him, above all human beings! Admire one who despises me!--Is
it possible? I know not, but it is so--I have more to tell you, sir!--As
I returned to the castle, I was watched by Miss Strictland. How she knew
all that had passed, I cannot divine; perhaps it was by means of some
spy who followed me, and whom I did not perceive: for I neither saw nor
heard any thing but my passion. Miss Strictland communicated her
discovery immediately to my father. I have been these last two hours
before a family tribunal. My mother, with a coldness a thousand times
worse than my poor father's rage, says, that I have only accomplished
her prophecies; that she always knew and told my father that I should be
a disgrace to my family. But no reproaches are equal to my own; I stand
self-condemned. I feel like one awakened from a dream. A few words!--a
single look from Mr. Russell!--how they have altered all my views, all
my thoughts! Two hours' reflection--Two hours, did I say?--whole
years--a whole existence--have passed to me in the last two hours: I am
a different creature. But it is too late--too late!--Self-esteem is
gone!--happiness is over for me in this world."

"Happiness over for you!" exclaimed Vivian in a tone expressive of the
deep interest he felt for her; "Self-esteem gone!--No! Lady Julia; do
not blame yourself so severely for what has passed! Blame the
circumstances in which you have been placed; above all, blame
me--blame my folly--my madness; your secret never would have been
known, if I had not--"

"I thank you," interrupted Lady Julia, rising from her seat; "but no
consolation can be of any avail. It neither consoles nor justifies me
that others have been to blame."

"Permit me, at least," pursued Vivian. "to speak of my own sentiments
for one moment. Permit me to say, Lady Julia, that the confidence with
which you have just honoured me, instead of diminishing my attachment,
has so raised my admiration for your candour and magnanimity, that no
obstacles shall vanquish my constancy. I will wait respectfully, and, if
I can, patiently, till time shall have effaced from your mind these
painful impressions; I shall neither ask nor accept of the interference
or influence of your father, nor of any of your friends; I shall rely
solely on the operation of your own excellent understanding, and shall
hope for my reward from your noble heart."

"You do not think it possible," said Lady Julia, looking at Vivian with
dignified determination, "you do not think it possible, after all that
has passed, after all that I have told you, that I could so far degrade
myself or you, as to entertain any thoughts of becoming your wife?
Farewell! Mr. Vivian.----You will not see me again. I shall obtain
permission to retire, and live with a relation in a distant part of the
country; where I shall no more be seen or heard of. My fortune will, I
hope, be of use to my sister.----My poor father!--I pity him; he loves
me: he loses his daughter for ever; worse than loses her! My mother,
too--I pity her! for, though she does not love me, she will suffer for
me; she will suffer more than my father, by the disgrace that would be
brought upon my family, if ever the secret should be publicly known. My
brother!--Oh, my beloved brother! he knows nothing yet of all this!--But
why do I grieve you with my agony of mind? Forget that Lady Julia
Lidhurst ever existed!--I wish you that happiness which I can never
enjoy--I wish you may deserve and win a heart capable of feeling real
love!--Adieu!"

CHAPTER XI.

Convinced that all farther pursuit of Lady Julia Lidhurst would be
vain, that it could tend only to increase her difficulties and his
mortification, Vivian saw that the best thing he could possibly do was
to leave Glistonbury. Thus he should relieve the whole family from the
embarrassment of his presence; and, by immediate change of scene and of
occupation, he had the best chance of recovering from his own
disappointment. If Lady Julia was to quit the castle, he could have no
inducement to stay; if her ladyship remained, his continuing in her
society would be still more dangerous to his happiness. Besides, he
felt offended with Lord Glistonbury, who evidently had wished to
conceal from him the truth; and, without considering what was just or
honourable, had endeavoured to secure, at all events, an establishment
for his daughter, and a connexion for his family. To the weight of
these reasons must be added a desire to see Mr. Russell, and to effect
a reconciliation with him. The accumulated force of all these motives
had power to overcome Vivian's habitual indecision: his servant was
surprised by an order to have every thing ready for his journey to town
immediately. Whilst his man prepared to obey, or at least to meditate
upon the cause of this unusually decided order, our hero went in quest
of Lord Glistonbury, to pay his compliments to his lordship previous to
his departure. His lordship was in his daughter Julia's dressing-room,
and could not be seen; but presently he came to Vivian in great hurry
and distress of mind.

"A sad stroke upon us, Mr. Vivian!--a sad stroke upon us all--but most
upon me; for she was the child of my expectations--I hear she has told
you every thing--you, also, have been very ill-used--Never was
astonishment equal to mine when I heard Miss Strictland's story. I need
not caution you, Mr. Vivian, as to secrecy; you are a man of honour, and
you see the peace of our whole family is at stake. The girl is going to
a relation of ours in Devonshire.--Sha'n't stay here--sha'n't stay
here--Disgrace to my family--She who was my pride--and, after all, says
she will never marry.--Very well!--very well!--I shall never see her
again, that I am determined upon.--I told her, that if she did not
behave with common sense and propriety, in her last interview with you,
I would give her up--and so I will, and so I do.--The whole is Lady
Glistonbury's fault--she never managed her rightly when she was a child.
Oh! I should put you on your guard in one particular--Miss Bateman
knows nothing of what has happened--I wish Miss Strictland knew as
little--I hate her. What business had she to play the spy upon my
daughter? She does well to be a prude, for she is as ugly as sin. But we
are in her power. She is to go to-morrow with Julia to Devonshire. It
will make a quarrel between me and Miss Bateman--no matter for that; for
now, the sooner we get rid of that Rosamunda, too, the better--she
talks me dead, and will let no one talk but herself. And, between you
and me, all this could not have happened, if she had looked after her
charge properly.--Not but what I think Miss Strictland was still less
fit to guide a girl of Julia's genius and disposition. All was done
wrong at first, and I always said so to Lady Glistonbury. But, if the
secret can be kept--and _that_ depends on you, my dear friend--after six
months' or a twelve-month's _rustication_ with our poor parson in the
country, you will see how tamed and docile the girl will come back to
us. This is my scheme; but nobody shall know my whole mind but you--I
shall tell her I will never see her again; and that will pacify Lady
Glistonbury, and frighten Julia into submission. She says she'll never
marry.--Stuff! Stuff!--You don't believe her!--What man who has seen
any thing of the world ever believes such stuff?"

Vivian's servant came into the room to ask his master some question
about horses.

"Going!--where? Going!--when? Going!--how?" cried Lord Glistonbury, as
soon as the servant withdrew. "Surely, you are not going to leave us,
Mr. Vivian?"

Vivian explained his reasons--Lord Glistonbury would not allow them any
weight, entreated and insisted that he should stay at least a few days
longer; for his going "just at this moment would seem quite like a break
up in the family, and would be the most unfriendly and cruel thing
imaginable." Why Lord Glistonbury so earnestly pressed his stay, perhaps
even his lordship himself did not exactly know; for, with all the air of
being a person of infinite address and depth of design, his lordship was
in reality childishly inconsistent; what the French call _inconsequent_.
On any subject, great or small, where he once took it into his head, or,
as he called it, _made it a point_, that a thing should be so or so, he
was as peremptory, or, where he could not be peremptory, as anxious, as
if it were a matter of life and death. In his views there was no
perspective, no keeping--all objects appeared of equal magnitude; and
even now, when it might be conceived that his whole mind was intent upon
a great family misfortune, he, in the course of a few minutes, became as
eager about a mere trifle as if he had nothing else in the world to
think of. From the earnestness with which Lord Glistonbury urged him to
stay a few days, at least one day longer, Vivian was induced to believe
that it must be a matter of real consequence to his lordship--"And, in
his present state of distress, I cannot refuse such a request," thought
Vivian. He yielded, therefore, to these solicitations, and consented to
stay a few days longer; though he knew the prolonging his visit would
be, in every respect, disagreeable.

At dinner Lord Glistonbury announced to the company that the physician
had advised change of air immediately for Lord Lidhurst; and that, in
consequence, his son would set out early the next morning for
Devonshire--that his daughter Julia wished to go with her brother, and
that Miss Strictland would accompany them. Lord Glistonbury apologized
for his daughter's absence, "preparations for her journey so suddenly
decided upon," &c. Lady Glistonbury and Lady Sarah looked terribly grim
whilst all this was saying; but the gravity and stiffness of their
demeanour did not appear any thing extraordinary to the greater part of
the company, who had no idea of what was going forward. The lawyer, the
captain, and the chaplain, however, interchanged significant looks; and
many times, during the course of the evening, they made attempts to draw
out Vivian's thoughts, but they found him impenetrable. There was an
underplot of a quarrel between Miss Strictland and Miss Bateman, to
which Vivian paid little attention; nor was he affected, in the
slightest degree, by the Rosamunda's declaration to Lord Glistonbury,
that she must leave his family, since she found that Miss Strictland had
a larger share than herself of his lordship's confidence, and was, for
what reason she could not divine, to have the honour of accompanying
Lady Julia into Devonshire. Vivian perceived these quarrels, and heard
the frivolous conversation of the company at Glistonbury Castle without
interest, and with a sort of astonishment at the small motives by which
others were agitated, whilst his whole soul was engrossed by love and
pity for Lady Julia. In vain he hoped for another opportunity of seeing
and speaking to her. She never appeared. The next morning he rose at
daybreak that he might have the chance of seeing her: he begged Miss
Strictland to entreat her ladyship would allow him to say a few words
before she set out; but Miss Strictland replied, that she was assured
the request would be vain; and he thought he perceived that Miss
Strictland, though she affected to lament Lady Julia's blindness to her
own interests and contumacy, in opposing her father's wishes, was, in
reality, glad that she persisted in her own determination. Lord
Lidhurst, on account of the weak state of his health, was kept in
ignorance of every thing that could agitate him; and, when Vivian took
leave of him, the poor young man left many messages of kindness and
gratitude for Mr. Russell.

"I am sorry that he was obliged to leave me; for, ill or well, there is
no human being, I will not except any one but my sister Julia, whom I
should so much wish to have with me. Tell him so; and tell him--be sure
you remember my very words, for perhaps I shall never see him
again--tell him, that, living or dying, I shall feel grateful to him. He
has given me tastes and principles very different from those I had when
he came into this house. Even in sickness, I feel almost every hour the
advantage of my present love for literature. If I should live and
recover, I hope I shall do him some credit; and I trust my family will
join in my gratitude. Julia, my dear sister! why do you weep so
bitterly?--If I had seen you come into the room, I would not have spoken
of my health."

Lord Glistonbury came up to tell them that Miss Strictland was ready.
"Mr. Vivian," cried his lordship, "will you hand Julia into the
carriage?--Julia, Mr. Vivian is offering you his services."

Vivian, as he attended Lady Julia, had so much respect for her feelings,
that, though he had been waiting with extreme impatience for an
opportunity _to say a few words_, yet now he would not speak, but handed
her along the gallery, down the staircase, and across the great hall, in
profound silence. She seemed sensible of this forbearance; and, turning
to him at a moment when they could not be overheard, said, "It was not
from unkindness, Mr. Vivian, I refused to see you again, but to convince
you that my mind is determined--if you have any thing to say, I am ready
to hear it."

"Is there nothing to be hoped from time?" said Vivian. "Your father, I
know, has hopes that----All I ask is, that you will not make any rash
resolutions."

"I make none; but I tell _you_, for your own sake, not to cherish any
vain hope. My father does not know my mind sufficiently, therefore he
may deceive you; but I will not.----I thought, after the manner in which
I spoke to you yesterday, you would have had too much strength of mind
to have rendered this repetition of my sentiments necessary.----Attach
yourself elsewhere as soon as you can.--I sincerely wish your happiness.
Miss Strictland is waiting.--Farewell!"

She hurried forward to the carriage; and, when she was gone, Vivian
repented that he had seen her again, as it had only given them both
additional and fruitless pain.

What passed during some succeeding days at Glistonbury Castle he
scarcely knew; no trace remained in his mind of anything but the
confused noise of people, who had been talking, laughing, and diverting
themselves in a manner that seemed to him incomprehensible. He exerted
himself, however, so far as to write to Russell, to implore his
forgiveness, and to solicit a return of his friendship, which, in his
present state of unhappiness, was more necessary to him than ever. When
he had finished and despatched this letter, he sunk again into a sort of
reckless state, without hope or determination, as to his future life. He
could not decide whether he should go to his mother immediately on
leaving Glistonbury, or to Mr. Russell, or (which he knew was the best
course he could pursue) attend his duty in parliament, and, by plunging
at once into public business, change the course of his thoughts, and
force his mind to resume its energy. After altering his determination
twenty times, after giving at least a dozen contradictory orders about
his journey, his servant at last had his ultimatum, _for London_--the
carriage to be at the door at ten o'clock the next morning. Every thing
was ready at the appointed hour. Breakfast over, Vivian waited only to
pay his compliments to Lady Glistonbury, who had breakfasted in her own
apartment. Lady Sarah, with a manner as formal as usual, rose from the
breakfast-table, and said she would let her mother know that Mr. Vivian
was going. Vivian waited half an hour--an hour--two hours. Lady
Glistonbury did not appear, nor did Lady Sarah return. The company had
dispersed after the first half-hour. Lord Glistonbury began to believe
that the ladies did not mean to make their appearance. At length a
message came from Lady Glistonbury.--"Lady Glistonbury's compliments to
Mr. Vivian--her ladyship was concerned that it was out of her power to
have the pleasure of seeing Mr. Vivian, as she was too much indisposed
to leave her room.--She and Lady Sarah wished him a very good journey."

Vivian went up to his room for his gloves, which he missed at the moment
when he was going. Whilst he was opening the empty drawers one after
another, in search of his gloves, and, at the same time, calling his
servant to find them, he heard a loud scream from an adjoining
apartment. He listened again--all was silent; and he supposed that what
he had heard was not a scream: but, at that moment, Lady Sarah's maid
flung open his door, and, running in with out-stretched arms, threw
herself at Vivian's feet. Her sobs and tears prevented his understanding
one syllable she said. At last she articulated intelligibly, "Oh,
sir!--don't be so cruel to go--my lady!--my poor lady! If you go, it
will kill Lady Sarah!"

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