“Oh love, how are thy precious, sweetest minutes
Thus ever crossed, thus vexed with disappointments;
Now pride, now fickleness, fantastic quarrels,
And sullen coldness give us pain by turns.”—Rowe.
At the expected time, the marquis and his family arrived with great splendor at Ulster Lodge, which was immediately crowded with visitors of the first consequence in the county, among whom were the Kilcorbans, whose affluent fortune gave them great respectability. Mr. Kilcorban wished, indeed, to be first in paying his compliments to the marquis, who had a borough in his disposal he was desirous of being returned for. Disappointed the last time he set up as one of the candidates for the county, this was his only chance of entering that house he had long been ambitious for a seat in. He knew, indeed, his oratorical powers were not very great—often saying, he had not the gift of the gab like many of the honorable gentlemen; but then he could stamp and stare, and look up to the gods and goddesses[B] for their approbation, with the best of them; and, besides, his being a member of parliament would increase his consequence, at least in the country.
[B] Ladies were admitted to the gallery of the Irish House of Commons.
The female part of his family went from Ulster Lodge to Castle Carberry, which they entered with a more consequential air than ever, as if they derived new consequence from the visit they had been paying. Instead of flying up to Amanda, as usual, the young ladies swam into the room, with what they imagined, a most bewitching elegance, and, making a sliding curtsey, flung themselves upon a sofa, exactly opposite a glass, and alternately viewed themselves, and pursued their remarks on Lady Euphrasia’s dress. “Well, certainly, Alicia,” said Miss Kilcorban, “I will have a morning gown made in imitation of her ladyship’s : that frill of fine lace about the neck is the most becoming thing in nature; and the pale blue lining sweetly adapted for a delicate complexion.” “I think, Charlotte,” cried Miss Alicia, “I will have my tambour muslin in the same style, but lined with pink to set off the work.”
“This aunt of yours, my dear,” exclaimed Mrs. Kilcor[Pg 160]ban, “is really a personable-looking woman enough, and her daughter a pretty little sort of body.”
“Oh! they are charming creatures,” cried both the young ladies; “so elegant, so irresistibly genteel.”
“Your ideas and mine, then,” said Lady Greystock, “differ widely about elegance and irresistibility, if you ascribe either to the ladies in question. Mr. Kilcorban,” continued she, turning to Amanda, “feared, I believe, my Lord Marquis would fly across the sea in a few hours; and that he might catch him ere he took wing, never ceased tormenting us, from the time breakfast was over till we entered the carriage, to make haste, though he might have known it was quite too early for fine folks to be visible.
“Well, we posted off to Ulster Lodge, as if life and death depended on our dispatch. Mr. Kilcorban was ushered into the marquis’s study, and we into an empty room, to amuse ourselves, if we pleased, with portraits of the marquis’s ancestors; whilst bells in all quarters were tingling—maids and footmen running up and down stairs—and cats, dogs, monkeys, and parrots, which I found composed part of the travelling retinue, were scratching, barking, chattering, and screaming, in a room contiguous to the one we occupied. At length a fine, perfumed jessamy made his appearance, and saying the ladies were ready to have the honor of receiving us, skipped up stairs like a harlequin. The marchioness advanced about two steps from her couch to receive us, and Lady Euphrasia half rose from her seat, and after contemplating us for a minute, as if to know whether we were to be considered as human creatures or not, sunk back into her former attitude of elegant languor, and continued her conversation with a young nobleman who had accompanied them from England.”
“Well, I hope you will allow he is a divine creature,” exclaimed Miss Kilcorban, in an accent of rapture. “Oh! what eyes he has,” cried her sister; “what an harmonious voice! I really never beheld any one so exquisitely handsome!”
“Lord Mortimer, indeed,” said Lady Greystock—Amanda started, blushed, turned pale, panted as if for breath, and stared as if in amazement. “Bless me, Miss Fitzalan,” asked her ladyship, “are you ill?” “No, madam,” replied Amanda, in a trembling voice; “’tis only—’tis only a little palpitation of the heart I am subject to. I have interrupted your ladyship; pray proceed.” “Well,” continued Lady Greystock, “I was saying that Lord Mortimer was one of the most elegant and engaging young men I had ever beheld. His expressive eyes[Pg 161] seemed to reprove the folly of his fair companion; and her neglect made him doubly assiduous, which to me was a most convincing proof of a noble mind.”
How did the heart of Amanda swell with pleasure at this warm eulogium on Lord Mortimer! The tear of delight, of refined affection, sprung to her eye, and could scarcely be prevented falling.
“Lord, madam,” cried Miss Kilcorban, whose pride was mortified at Amanda’s hearing of the cool reception they had met with, “I can’t conceive the reason you ascribe such rudeness and conceit to Lady Euphrasia; ’tis really quite a misconstruction of the etiquette necessary to be observed by people of rank.”
“I am glad, my dear,” replied Lady Greystock, “you are now beginning to profit by the many lessons I have given you on humility.”
“I assure you, Miss,” said Mrs. Kilcorban, “I did not forget to tell the marchioness she had a niece in the neighborhood. I thought, indeed, she seemed a little shy on the subject; so I suppose there has been a difference in the families, particularly as you don’t visit her; but, at our ball, perhaps, everything may be settled.” Amanda made no reply to this speech, and the ladies departed.
Her bosom, as may well be supposed, was agitated with the most violent perturbations on hearing of Lord Mortimer’s being in the neighborhood. The pleasure she felt at the first intelligence gradually subsided on reflecting he was an inmate, probably a friend, of those relations who had contributed to the destruction of her mother; and who, from the character she had heard of them, it was not uncharitable to think, would feel no great regret, if her children experienced a destiny equally severe. Might they not infuse some prejudices against her into his bosom; to know she was the child of the unfortunate Malvina, would be enough to provoke their enmity; or, if they were silent, might not Lady Euphrasia, adorned with every advantage of rank and fortune, have won, or at least soon win, his affections?
Yet scarcely did these ideas obtrude, ere she reproached herself for them as injurious to Lord Mortimer, from whose noble nature she thought she might believe his constancy never would be shaken, except she herself gave him reason to relinquish it.
She now cheered her desponding spirits, by recalling the ideas she had long indulged with delight, as her residence was[Pg 162] still a secret to the Edwins, whose letters to their daughter were, by Fitzalan’s orders, constantly directed to a distant town from whence hers, in return, were sent. She concluded chance had informed Lord Mortimer of it, and flattered herself, that to avoid the suspicion which a solitary journey to Ireland might create in the mind of Lord Cherbury, he had availed himself of the Marquis’s party, and come to try whether she was unchanged, and her father would sanction their attachment, ere he avowed it to the earl.
Whilst fluctuating between hope and fear, Ellen, all pale and breathless, ran into the room, exclaiming, “He is come! he is come! Lord Mortimer is come!”
“Oh, heavens!” sighed Amanda, sinking back in her chair and dropping her trembling hands before her. Ellen, alarmed, blamed herself for her precipitation, and, flying to a cabinet snatched a bottle of lavender water from it, which s............