Tales and Novels, Vol. VII by Maria Edgeworth

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

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"An excellent speech--to the purpose, sir," said Lord Oldborough. "It had
its effect on the house, I understand; and I thank your friend, Mr. Alfred
Percy, for putting it into my hands when I had leisure to peruse it with
attention."

Lord Oldborough thought for some moments, then looked over some official
papers which he had ordered Mr. Temple to draw up.

"Very well, sir--very well. A man of genius, I see, can become a man of
business."

His lordship signed the papers, and, when that was finished, turned again
to Mr. Temple.

"Sir, some time ago a place was vacant, which, I know, you had reason to
expect. It was given to Mr. Shaw, because it was better suited to him
than to you. The manner in which you took your disappointment showed a
confidence in my justice. Have you any objection, Mr. Temple, to the
diplomatic line?"

"I fear--or I should say, I hope--my lord, that I have not the habits of
dissimulation, which, as I have always understood, are necessary to success
in the diplomatic line."

"You have understood wrongly, sir," replied Lord Oldborough. "I, who have
seen something of courts, and know something of diplomacy, am of opinion
that a man of sense, who knows what he is about, who says the thing that
is, who will tell at once what he can do, and what he cannot, would succeed
better as a negotiator in the present state of Europe, than could any
diplomatist with all the simulation and dissimulation of Chesterfield, or
with the tact of Mazarin."

"Indeed, my lord!" said Mr. Temple, looking up with an air of surprise that
almost expressed, Then why did you choose Cunningham Falconer for an envoy?

"Pray," said Lord Oldborough, taking a long inspiration with a pinch of
snuff, "pray with that despatch this morning from Mr. Cunningham Falconer
were there any private letters?"

"One for Commissioner Falconer, my lord."

"None from Count Altenberg to me?"

"None, my lord."

The minister took a walk up and down the room, and then returning to Mr.
Temple, said, "His majesty thinks proper, sir, to appoint you envoy in the
place of Mr. Cunningham Falconer, who is recalled."

"I thank you, my lord--his majesty does me great honour," cried Mr. Temple,
with sudden gratitude: then, his countenance and tone instantly changing
from joy to sorrow, he added, "His majesty does me great honour, my lord,
but--"

"But not great pleasure, it seems, sir," said Lord Oldborough. "I thought,
Mr. Temple, you had trusted to me the advancement of your fortune."

"My fortune! My lord, I am struck with surprise and gratitude by your
lordship's goodness in taking thought for the advancement of my fortune.
But I have other feelings."

"And may I ask what is the nature of your other feelings, sir?"

"My lord--excuse me--I cannot tell them to you."

"One word more, sir. Do you hesitate, from any motives of delicacy with
respect to the present envoy?"

"No, my lord, you look too high for my motive; and the higher I am sensible
that I stand in your lordship's opinion, the greater is my fear of falling.
I beg you will excuse me: the offer that your lordship has had the goodness
to make would be the height of my ambition; but when opposing motives draw
the will in contrary directions--"

"Sir, if you are going into the bottomless pit of metaphysics, excuse me,"
said Lord Oldborough--"there I must leave you. I protest, sir, you are past
my comprehension."

"And past my own," cried Mr. Temple, "for," with effort he uttered the
words, "unfortunately I have formed an--I have become attached to--"

"In short, sir, you are _in love_, I think," said Lord Oldborough, coolly.
"I think I told you so, sir, more than a month ago."

"I have said it! and said it to Lord Oldborough!" exclaimed Mr. Temple,
looking as one uncertain whether he were dreaming or awake.

"It is undoubtedly uncommon to select a minister of state for the confidant
of a love affair," said Lord Oldborough, with an air of some repressed
humour.

"I knew I should expose myself to your lordship's derision," exclaimed Mr.
Temple.

He was too much engrossed by his own feelings, as he pronounced these
words, to observe in his lordship's countenance an extraordinary emotion.
It was visible but for one instant.

With a look more placid, and a tone somewhat below his usual voice, Lord
Oldborough said, "You have misjudged me much, Mr. Temple, if you have
conceived that your feelings, that such feelings would be matter of
derision to me. But since you have touched upon this subject, let me give
you one hint--Ambition _wears_ better than Love."

Lord Oldborough sat down to write, and added, "For one fortnight I can
spare you, Mr. Temple--Mr. Shaw will undertake your part of the business of
office. At the end of the ensuing fortnight, I trust you will let me have
your answer."

Full of gratitude, Mr. Temple could express it only by a bow--and retired.
The antechamber was now filling fast for the levee. One person after
another stopped him; all had some pressing business, or some business which
they thought of consequence, either to the nation or themselves.

"Mr. Temple, I must trouble you to look over these heads of a bill."

"Mr. Temple!--My memorial--just give me your advice."

"Sir--I wrote a letter, three weeks ago, to Lord Oldborough, on the
herring-fishery, to which I have not had the honour of an answer."

"Mr. Temple--the address from Nottingham--Where's the reply?"

"Mr. Temple, may I know whether his lordship means to see us gentlemen from
the city about the loan?"

"Sir--Pray, sir!--My new invention for rifling cannon--Ordnance
department!--Sir, I did apply--War-office, too, sir!--It's very hard
I can't get an answer--bandied about!--Sir, I can't think myself well
used--Government shall hear more."

"One word, Mr. Temple, if you please, about tithes. I've an idea--"

"Temple, don't forget the Littleford turnpike bill."

"Mr. Temple, who is to second the motion on Indian affairs?"

"Temple, my good friend, did you speak to Lord Oldborough about my little
affair for Tom?"

"Mr. Temple, a word in your ear--the member for the borough, _you know_, is
dead; letters must be written directly to the corporation."

"Temple, my dear friend, before you go, give me a frank."

At last Mr. Temple got away from memorialists, petitioners, grievances, men
of business, idle men, newsmen, and dear friends, then hastened to Alfred
to unburden his mind--and to rest his exhausted spirits.

CHAPTER XXXII.

The moment that Mr. Temple reached his friend's chambers, he threw himself
into a chair.

"What repose--what leisure--what retirement is here!" cried he. "A man can
think and feel a moment for himself."

"Not well, I fear, in the midst of the crackling of these parchments,"
said Alfred, folding up the deeds at which he had been at work. "However,
I have now done my business for this day, and I am your man for what you
please--if you are not engaged by some of your great people, we cannot do
better than dine together."

"With all my heart," said Mr. Temple.

"And where shall we dine?" said Alfred.

"Any where you please. But I have a great deal to say to you, Alfred--don't
think of dining yet."

"At the old work!" cried Alfred.

"'You think of convincing, while I think of dining.'"

But, as he spoke, Alfred observed his friend's agitated countenance, and
immediately becoming serious, he drew a chair beside Mr. Temple, and said,
"I believe, Temple, you have something to say that you are anxious about.
You know that if there is any thing I can do, head, hand, and heart are at
your service."

"Of that I am quite sure, else I should not come here to open my heart to
you," replied Mr. Temple. Then he related all that had just passed between
Lord Oldborough and himself, and ended by asking Alfred, whether he thought
there was any chance of success for his love?

"You have not told me who the lady is," said Alfred.

"Have not I?--but, surely, you can guess."

"I have guessed--but I wish to be mistaken--Lady Frances Arlington?"

"Quite mistaken. Guess again--and nearer home."

"Nearer home!--One of my sisters!--Not Caroline, I hope?"

"No."

"Then it must be as I once hoped. But why did you never mention it to me
before?"

Mr. Temple declared that he had thought there was so little chance of his
ever being in circumstances in which he could marry, especially a woman who
had not some fortune of her own, that he had scarcely ventured to avow,
even to himself, his attachment.

"I thought my love would wear itself out," added he. "Indeed I did not
know how serious a business it was, till this sudden proposal was made to
me of leaving England: then I felt that I should drag, at every step, a
lengthening chain. In plain prose, I cannot leave England without knowing
my fate. But don't let me make a fool of myself, Alfred. No man of sense
will do more than hazard a refusal: that every man ought to do, or he
sacrifices the dignity of the woman he loves to his own false pride. I know
that in these days gentlemen-suitors are usually expert in _sounding_ the
relations of the lady they wish to address. To inquire whether the lady
is engaged or not is, I think, prudent and honourable: but beyond this, I
consider it to be treacherous and base to endeavour, by any indirect means,
to engage relations to say what a lover should learn only from the lady
herself. Therefore, my dear friend, all I ask is whether you have reason to
believe that your sister Rosamond's heart is pre-engaged; or if you think
that there is such a certainty of my being rejected, as ought, in common
prudence, to prevent my hazarding the mortification of a refusal?"

Alfred assured his friend, that, to the best of his belief, Rosamond's
heart was disengaged. "And," continued he, "as a witness is or ought to be
prepared to tell his cause of belief, I will give you mine. Some time since
I was commissioned by a gentleman, who wished to address her, to make the
previous inquiry, and the answer was, quite disengaged. Now as she did
not accept of this gentleman, there is reason to conclude that he did not
engage her affections--"

"Was he rich or poor, may I ask?" interrupted Mr. Temple.

"That is a leading question," said Alfred.

"I do not want you to tell me who the gentleman was--I know that would not
be a fair question, and I trust I should be as far from asking, as you
from answering it. But there are so many rich as well as so many poor men
in the world, that in answering to the inquiry rich or poor, what city or
court man do you name? I want only to draw a general inference as to your
sister's taste for wealth."

"Her taste is assuredly not exclusively for wealth; for her last admirer
was a gentleman of very large fortune."

"I am happy, at least, in that respect, in not resembling him," said Mr.
Temple. "Now for my other question--what chance for myself?"

"Of that, my good friend, you must judge for yourself. By your own rule all
you have a right to hear is, that I, Rosamond's brother, have no reason for
believing that she has such a repugnance to you as would make a refusal
certain. And that you may not too much admire my discretion, I must add,
that if I had a mind to tell you more, I could not. All I know is, that
Rosamond, as well as the rest of my family, in their letters spoke of you
with general approbation, but I do not believe the idea of considering you
as her lover ever entered into her head or theirs."

"But now the sooner it enters the better," cried Mr. Temple. "Will you--can
you--Have not you business to do for Lord Oldborough at Clermont-park?"

"Yes--and I am glad of it, as it gives me an opportunity of indulging
myself in going with you, my dear Temple. I am ready to set out at any
moment."

"God bless you! The sooner the better, then. This night in the mail, if you
please. I'll run and take our places," said he, snatching up his hat.

"Better send," cried Alfred stopping him: "my man can run and take
places in a coach as well as you. Do you stay with me. We will go to the
coffee-house, dine, and be ready to set off."

Mr. Temple acceded.

"In the mean time," said Alfred, "you have relations and connexions of your
own who should be consulted."

Mr. Temple said he was sure that all his relations and connexions would
highly approve of an alliance with the Percy family. "But, in fact," added
he, "that is all they will care about the matter. My relations, though
high and mighty people, have never been of any service to me: they are too
grand, and too happy, to mind whether a younger son of a younger son sinks
or swims; whether I live in single wretchedness or double blessedness. Not
one relation has nature given, who cares for me half as much as the friend
I have made for myself."

Sincerely as Alfred was interested for his success, yet he did not let this
friendship interfere with the justice due to his sister, of leaving _her_
sole arbitress of a question which most concerned her happiness.

During the last stage of their journey, they were lucky enough to have the
coach to themselves, and Mr. Temple made himself amends for the restraint
under which he had laboured during the preceding part of the journey,
whilst he had been oppressed by the presence of men, whose talk was of
the lower concerns of life. After he had descanted for some time on the
perfections of his mistress, he ended with expressing his surprise that his
friend, who had often of late rallied him upon his being in love, had not
guessed sooner who was the object of his passion.

Alfred said that the idea of Rosamond had occurred to him, because his
friend's absence of mind might be dated from the time of his last visit to
Clermont-park; "but," said Alfred, "as Lady Frances Arlington was there,
and as I had formerly fancied that her ladyship's wish to captivate or
dazzle you, had not been quite without effect, I was still in doubt, and
thought even your praises of Rosamond's disposition and temper, compared
with her ladyship's, might only be _ruse de guerre_, or _ruse d'amour_."

"There was no _ruse_ in the case," said Mr. Temple; "I confess that when I
first emerged from my obscurity into all the light and life of the world
of fashion, my eyes were dazzled, and before I recovered the use of them
sufficiently to compare the splendid objects by which I found myself
surrounded, I was wonderfully struck with the appearance of Lady Frances
Arlington, and did not measure, as I ought, the immense difference between
Lord Oldborough's secretary, and the niece of the Duke of Greenwich.
Lady Frances, from mere _gaiete de coeur_ likes to break hearts; and she
continually wishes to add one, however insignificant, to the number of her
conquests. I, a simple man of literature, unskilled in the wicked ways of
the fair, was charmed by her ladyship's innocent naivete and frank gaiety,
and all that was

'Strangely wild, or madly gay,
I call'd it only pretty Fanny's way.'

"Fortunately, just as I was in imminent danger of exchanging true sighs
for false smiles, I became acquainted with your sister Rosamond. In the
country, and under circumstances more favourable for the development of
character than any which might occur for months or years in a town-life,
where all the men and women are merely actors, I had leisure to see and
mark the difference and the resemblance between Lady Frances Arlington's
character, and that of your sister. They resembled each other in natural
quickness of intellect and of feeling; in wit, sprightliness, and
enthusiasm, they were also to a certain degree alike. I was amused by Lady
Frances Arlington's lively nonsense, till I heard your sister's lively
sense. Her ladyship hazards saying every thing that occurs to her, and
often makes happy hits; but your sister's style of wit is far superior, and
far more agreeable, because it has the grace, elegance, and, above all, the
infinite variety which literary allusion supplies. I found myself pleased,
not only with what she said, but with the trains of ideas, that, by a
single word, she often suggested. Conversing with her, my mind was kept
always active, without ever being over-exerted or fatigued. I can look
back, and trace the whole progress of my attachment. I began in this way,
by finding her conversation most delightful--but soon discovered that she
was not only more entertaining and more cultivated, but far more amiable
than my idol, Lady Frances, because she had never been an idol, and did not
expect to be adored. Then she was more interesting, because more capable
of being interested. Lady Frances requires much sympathy, but gives little;
and for that enthusiasm of temper which had, at first, charmed me in her
ladyship, I began to lose my taste, when I observed that it was always
excited by trifles, and by trifles that concerned herself more than any
one else. I used to think her--what every body calls her, a perfectly
natural character; and so, perhaps, she is: but not the better for
that--since she is what, I am afraid, we all are naturally--selfish. Her
ladyship, if I may use the expression, is enthusiastically selfish. Your
sister--enthusiastically generous. Lady Frances's manners are caressing,
yet I doubt whether she feels affection for any one living, except just at
the moment when they are ministering to her fancies. It was Miss Percy's
warm affection for her sister Caroline which first touched my heart. I saw
each in her own family. The contrast was striking--in short, by the joint
effect of contrast and resemblance, my love for one lady decreased as fast
as it increased for the other; and I had just wit and judgment enough to
escape from snares that could not have held me long, to chains that have
power to hold me for ever."

To this history of the birth and progress of his love, Mr. Temple added
many expressions of his hopes, fears, and regrets, that he had not five
thousand a year, instead of five hundred, to offer his mistress; he at
length became absolutely silent. They were within view of the Hills, and
too many feelings crowded upon his mind to be expressed in words.

And now we might reasonably contrive to fill

"Twelve vast French romances neatly gilt,"

with the history of the following eventful fortnight, including the first
surprise at the arrival of the travellers--the declaration of Mr. Temple's
love--the astonishment of Rosamond on discovering that she was the object
of this passion--of a passion so generous and ardent--the consequent and
rapid discovery of a hundred perfections in the gentleman which had before
escaped her penetration--the strong peculiar temptation to marry him,
because he had not enough to live upon--the reaction of generosity on the
other side of the question, which forbade to ruin her lover's fortune--the
fluctuations of sentiment and imagination, the delicacies of generosity,
gratitude, love, and finally the decision of common sense.

It was fortunate for Rosamond, not only that she had prudent friends, but
that they had not made her in the least afraid of their superior wisdom, so
that she had, from the time she was a child, told them every idea, as it
rose in her vivid imagination, and every feeling of her susceptible heart;
imprudent as she might appear in her confidential conversation, this never
passed from words to actions. And now, when she was called upon in an
important event of life to decide for herself, she acted with consummate
discretion.

Mr. Temple's character and manners peculiarly pleased her, and his being
a man of birth and family certainly operated much in his favour. Her
parents now, as in Mr. Gresham's case, did not suffer their own tastes or
prepossessions to interfere with her happiness.

Caroline, grateful for the sympathy which Rosamond had always shown her,
took the warmest interest in this affair. Caroline was the most excellent,
indulgent, yet safe confidante; and as a hearer, she was absolutely
indefatigable. Rosamond never found her too busy, too lazy, or too sleepy
to listen to her: late at night, early in the morning, or in the most
hurried moment, of the day, it was all the same--Caroline seemed to have
nothing to do but to hear, think, and feel for Rosamond.

The fortnight allowed by Lord Oldborough having now nearly elapsed, it was
absolutely necessary Rosamond should come to some decision. Mr. Temple's
understanding, temper, disposition, and manners, she allowed to be
excellent--his conversation was particularly agreeable. In short, after
searching in vain for an objection, she was obliged to confess that she
liked him. Indeed, before she had allowed this in words her mother and
sister had made the discovery, and had seen the struggle in her mind
between love and prudence. Mr. Temple's fortune was not sufficient for them
to live upon, and she knew that a wife in his present circumstances must be
a burden to him; therefore, notwithstanding all that his passion and all
that her own partiality could urge, she decidedly refused his proposal of
an immediate union, nor would she enter into any engagement, or suffer him
to bind himself by any promise for the future; but he obtained permission
to correspond with her during his absence from England, and with the hope
that she was not quite indifferent to him, he took leave of her--returned
to town--waited upon Lord Oldborough--accepted of the embassy, and prepared
for his departure to the continent.

Now that there was an approaching possibility and probability of hearing
of Count Altenberg, Caroline felt it extremely difficult to adhere to her
resolution of never thinking of him, especially as her mind, which had been
actively occupied and deeply interested in her sister's concerns, was now
left to return upon itself in all the leisure of retirement. Fortunately
for her, about this time she was again called upon for that sympathy which
she was ever ready to give to her friends. She received the following
letter from Mrs. Hungerford.

LETTER FROM MRS. HUNGERFORD TO MISS CAROLINE PERCY.

"Come, my beloved Caroline, my dear young friend, friend of my family, and
of all who are most near and dear to me--come, and enjoy with me and them
that happiness, which your judicious kindness long since foresaw, and your
prudence promoted.

"My niece, Lady Mary Pembroke, is at last persuaded that she has it in her
power to make Mr. Barclay permanently happy. He has been obliged to take
a considerable length of time to convince her of the steadiness of his
attachment. Indeed, her objection--that he had been charmed by such a
coquette as the lady by whom we first saw him captivated, appeared to me
strong; and I thought my niece right for adhering to it, more especially as
I believed that at the time her affections pleaded against her reason in
his favour, and that, if she had been convinced long ago, it would not have
been against her will.

"Mr. Barclay has behaved like a man of sense and honour. Without disguise
he told her of his former attachment to you. She instantly made an answer,
which raised her high in my estimation. She replied, that Mr. Barclay's
being detached from Lady Angelica Headingham by your superior merit was to
her the strongest argument in his favour. She must, she said, have felt
insecure in the possession of a heart, which had been transferred directly
from Lady Angelica to herself, because she was conscious that her own
disposition was so different from her ladyship's; but in succeeding to the
affection which he had felt for a woman of your character, she should feel
perfect security, or at least reasonable hope, that by similar, though
certainly inferior qualities, she might ensure his happiness and her own.
They are to be married next week. Lady Mary particularly wishes that you
should be one of her bride-maids--come then, my love, and bring all my
_Percys_. I shall not perfectly enjoy my own and my niece's happiness till
you share it with me. My daughter Mortimer insists upon signing this as
well as myself.

"MARY-ELIZABETH HUNGERFORD.

"KATE MORTIMER."

Caroline and _all Mrs. Hungerford's Percys_ obeyed her summons with
alacrity. Lady Mary Pembroke's marriage with Mr. Barclay was solemnized
under the happiest auspices, and in the midst of approving and sympathizing
friends. As soon as the ceremony was over, and she had embraced and
congratulated her niece, Mrs. Hungerford turned to Mrs. Percy, and in a low
voice said, "If it were not too much for one so happy as I am, so rich in
blessings, to ask one blessing more, I should ask to be permitted to live
to see the day when our dear Caroline--" Mrs. Hungerford pressed Mrs.
Percy's hand, but could say no more; the tears rolled down her cheeks
as she looked up to heaven. Some minutes afterwards, following Caroline
with her eyes, "Look at her, Mrs. Percy!" said Mrs. Hungerford. "Did ever
selfish coquette, in the height of triumph over lover or rival, enjoy
such pleasure as you see sparkling at this moment in that dear girl's
countenance?"

The bride and bridegroom set off immediately for Mr. Barclay's seat in
Berkshire. Lady Florence accompanied her sister; and Mrs. Hungerford, after
parting from both her nieces, entreated that Caroline might be left with
her. "It is a selfish request, I know, my dear; but at my age I cannot
afford to be generous of the society of those I love. Allow me to plead my
age, and my--Well, I will not say more since I see it gives you pain, and
since I see you will grant the prayer of my petition, rather than hear my
claims to your compassion."