“Oh how this tyrant doubt torments my breast! My thoughts, like birds, who frighted from their rest,
Around the place where all was hushed before,
Flutter, and hardly settle any more.”—Otway.
Lord Mortimer, distressed by the indisposition of Amanda, hastened, at an earlier hour than usual (for his morning visits), to Portman Square, and was ushered into Lady Euphrasia’s dressing-room, where she and Miss Malcolm, who had continued with her the preceding night, were sitting tete-??-tete at breakfast. His lordship was a welcome visitor, but it was soon obvious on whose account he had made his appearance, for scarcely were the usual compliments over, ere he inquired about Miss Fitzalan.
Lady Euphrasia said she was still unwell, and had not yet left her apartment. “She has not recovered her surprise of last night,” exclaimed Miss Malcolm, with a malicious smile. “What surprise?” asked his lordship. “Dear me,” replied Miss Malcolm, “was not your lordship present at the time she met Colonel Belgrave?” “No,” said Lord Mortimer, changing color, “I was not present. But what has Colonel Belgrave to say to Miss Fitzalan?” asked he, in an agitated voice. “That is a question your lordship must put to the young lady herself,” answered Miss Malcolm. “Now, I declare,” cried Lady Euphrasia, addressing her friend, “’tis very probable her illness did not proceed from seeing Colonel Belgrave—you know she never mentioned being acquainted with him, though her father was his tenant in Devonshire.”
Lord Mortimer grew more disturbed, and rose abruptly.
Lady Euphrasia mentioned their intention of going that evening to the play, and invited him to be of the party. He accepted her invitation, and retired.
His visible distress was a source of infinite mirth to the young ladies, which they indulged the moment he quitted the room. The circumstance relative to Belgrave, the marchioness had informed them of, as she and Lady Greystock were near Amanda when she met him.
Lord Mortimer was unhappy. The mind which has once harbored suspicion will, from the most trivial circumstance, be[Pg 250] tempted again to give admission to the unpleasing guest—nor was it a trivial circumstance which discomposed the too susceptible heart of Mortimer. The sudden illness of Amanda, her extraordinary agitation, her eagerness to quit the room, the close, though silent attendance of Belgrave—all these, I say, when recalled to recollection, gave an air of probability to Miss Malcolm’s insinuation, that her disorder was occasioned by seeing him. From residing more constantly in England than Sir Charles Bingley had done, he had had more opportunities of learning Belgrave’s real character, which he knew to be that of a professed libertine. It was strange, he thought, that when Amanda informed him she once resided in Devonshire, she should conceal her father being the colonel’s tenant. He began to think her reluctance to a clandestine and immediate marriage might have proceeded from some secret attachment, and not from the strict adherence to filial duty, which had exalted her so much in his opinion.
Yet the idea was scarcely formed, ere he endeavored to suppress it. He started, as if from an uneasy dream, and wondered how he could have conceived this, or any other idea, injurious to Amanda. He felt a degree of remorse at having allowed her, for a moment, to be lessened in his opinion—her tenderness, her purity, he said to himself, could not be feigned; no, she was a treasure greater than he deserved to possess; nor would he, like a wayward son of error, fling away the happiness he had so long desired to obtain.
The calm this resolution produced was but transient. Doubts had been raised, and doubt could not be banished; he was inclined to think them unjust, yet had not power to dispel them. Vainly he applied to the ideas which had heretofore been such consolatory resources of comfort to him—namely, that his father would consent to his union with Amanda, through the interference of his aunt, and the felicity he should enjoy in that union. An unusual heaviness clung to his heart, which, like a gloomy sky, cast a shade of sadness over every prospect. Thoughtful and pensive he reached home, just as Sir Charles Bingley was entering the door, who informed him he had just received a note from Lord Cherbury, desiring his immediate presence.
Lord Mortimer attended him to the earl, who acquainted him, that he had received a letter from Mr. Fitzalan, in which he expressed a warm sense of the honor Sir Charles did his family, by addressing Miss Fitzalan; and that to have her united to a character so truly estimable, would give him the[Pg 251] truest happiness, from the conviction that hers would be secured by such a union. “He has written to his daughter expressing his sentiments,” continued Lord Cherbury. “I have therefore no doubt, Sir Charles, but that everything will succeed as you wish.” “I am sorry, my lord,” cried Sir Charles, with an agitated voice, and a cheek flushed with emotion, “that I ever troubled your lordship in this affair, as I have now, and forever, relinquished all ideas of a union with Miss Fitzalan.” "The resolution is really somewhat extraordinary and sudden,” replied the earl, “after the conversation which so lately passed between us.” “Adopted, however, my lord, from a thorough conviction that happiness could never be attained in a union with that young lady.” Sir Charles’s tenderness for Amanda was still undiminished; he wished to preserve her from censure, and thus proceeded: “Your lordship must allow I could have little chance of happiness in allying myself to a woman who has resolutely and uniformly treated me with indifference. Passion blinded my reason when I addressed your lordship relative to Miss Fitzalan; but its mists are now dispersed, and sober reflection obliges me to relinquish a scheme, whose accomplishment could not possibly give me satisfaction.” “You are certainly the best judge of your own actions, Sir Charles,” replied the earl. “My acting in the affair proceeded from a wish to serve you, as well as from my friendship for Captain Fitzalan. I must suppose your conduct will never disparage your own honor, or cast a slight upon Miss Fitzalan.” “That, my lord, you may be assured of,” said Sir Charles, with some warmth; “my actions and their motives have hitherto, and will ever, I trust, bear the strictest investigation. I cannot retire without thanking your lordship for the interest you took in my favor. Had things succeeded as I then hoped and expected, I cannot deny but I should have been much happier than I am at present.” He then bowed and retired.
Lord Mortimer had listened with astonishment to Sir Charles’s relinquishment of Amanda. Like his father, he thought it a sudden and extraordinary resolution. He was before jealous of Amanda’s love; he was now jealous of her honor. The agitation of Sir Charles seemed to imply even a cause more powerful than her coldness for resigning her. He recollected that the baronet and the colonel were intimate friends. Distracted by apprehensions, he rushed out of the house, and overtook Sir Charles ere he had quitted the square.
“Why, Bingley,” cried he, with affected gayety, “I thought you too valiant a knight to be easily overcome by despair; and[Pg 252] that without first trying every effort to win her favor, you never would give up a fair lady you had set your heart on.” “I leave such efforts for your lordship,” replied Sir Charles, “or those who have equal patience.” “But seriously, Bingley, I think this sudden resignation of Miss Fitzalan somewhat strange. Why, last night I could have sworn you were as much attached to her as ever. From Lord Cherbury’s friendship for Captain Fitzalan, I think her, in some degree, under his protection and mine. And as the particularity of your attention attracted observation, I think your abruptly withdrawing them requires explanation.” “As Lord Cherbury was the person I applied to relative to Miss Fitzalan,” exclaimed Sir Charles, “and as he was satisfied with the motive I assigned for my conduct, be assured, my lord, I shall never give another to you.” “Your words,” retorted Lord Mortimer, with warmth, “imply that there was another motive for your conduct than the one you avowed. What horrid inference may not be drawn from such an insinuation? Oh! Sir Charles! reputation is a fragile flower, which the slightest breath may injure.” “My lord, if Miss Fitzalan’s reputation is never injured but by my means, it will ever continue unsullied.”
“I cannot, indeed,” resumed Lord Mortimer, “style myself her guardian, but I consider myself her friend: and from the feelings of friendship, shall ever evince my interest in her welfare, and resent any conduct which can possibly render her an object of censure to any being.” “Allow me to ask your lordship one question,” cried Sir Charles, “and promise, on your honor, to answer it.” “I do promise,” said Lord Mortimer. “Then, my lord, did you ever really wish I should succeeded with Miss Fitzalan?”
Lord Mortimer colored. “You expect, Sir Charles, I shall answer you on my honor? Then, really, I never did.” “Your passions and mine,” continued Sir Charles, “are impetuous. We had better check them in time, lest they lead us to lengths we may hereafter repent of. Of Miss Fitzalan’s fame, be assured, no man can be more tenacious than I should. I love her with the truest ardor. Her acceptance of my proposals would have given me felicity. My suddenly withdrawing them can never injure her, when I declare my motive for so doing was her indifference. Lord Cherbury is satisfied with the reason I have assigned for resigning her. He is conscious that no man of sensibility could experience happiness with a woman in whose heart he had no interest. This, I suppose, your lordship will also allow.” “Certainly,” replied Lord Mortimer.[Pg 253] “Then, it strikes me, my lord, that it is your conduct, not mine, which has a tendency to injure Miss Fitzalan. That it is your words, not mine, which convey an insinuation against her. You really appear as if conscious some other cause existed, which would have made me relinquish her, without the one I have already assigned for doing so.”
Lord Mortimer was instantly convicted of the justice of what Sir Charles said. He began to fear his warmth would really prove prejudicial to Amanda, betray the doubts that had obtruded on his mind, and communicate them to those who might not be equally influenced by tenderness and delicacy to conceal them.
“You are right, Sir Charles,” said he, “in what you have said; passion, like a bad advocate, hurts the cause in which it is engaged. From my knowledge of your character, I should have been convinced your honor would have prevented any improper conduct. You are going to Ireland. Permit me, Sir Charles, to offer you my best wishes for your future happiness.”
Sir Charles took Lord Mortimer’s extended hand. He respected and esteemed his lordship, and a mutual interchange of good wishes took place between them, as this was the last interview they expected for a long time.
The indisposition of Amanda was more of the mental than the bodily kind, and on the first intimation of a party to the play she agreed to join it, in hopes the amusement would remove her dejection. Her father’s letter, relative to Sir Charles Bingley, had given her some uneasiness; but as he left her free to act, she contented herself with using the negative he allowed her, by a solemn resolution of never acting contrary to his inclinations, and answered his letter to this purpose.
Lord Mortimer and Freelove attended the ladies in the evening to the play. His lordship found an opportunity of tenderly inquiring after Amanda’s health. When they were seated in the house he perceived a lady in another box to whom he wished to speak, and accordingly left his party. This lady offered him a seat by herself, which he accepted. She was a stranger to Amanda, young and extremely beautiful. Amanda, however, had none of that foolish weakness which could make her dread a rival in every new face, or feel uneasiness at Lord Mortimer’s attention to any woman but herself. Assured that his affections for her were founded on the basis of esteem, and that she should retain them while worthy of[Pg 254] esteem, she could, without being discomposed by the agreeable conversation he appeared to be enjoying, fix her attention on the stage; so entirely, indeed, that she observed not from time to time, the glances Lord Mortimer directed towards her. Not so his fair companion. She noticed the wanderings of his eyes, and her own involuntarily pursued their course. She was speaking at the moment, but suddenly stopped, and Lord Mortimer saw her change color. He turned pale himself, and in a faltering voice, asked her, “if she knew the lady she had been long looking at?” “Know her?” replied she; “oh, heavens! but too well.”
Lord Mortimer trembled universally, and was compelled to have recourse to his handkerchief to hide his emotion.
It was by Adela, the lovely and neglected wife of Belgrave, he was sitting. She had been a short time in London, and her acquaintance with Lord Mortimer commenced at a ball, where she had danced with him. He was not one of those kind of men who, when in love, had neither eyes nor ears but for the object of that love. He could see perfections in other women besides his Amanda, and was particularly pleased with Mrs. Belgrave. He instantly perceived that she knew Amanda; also, that that knowledge was attended with pain. The well-known profligacy of her husband intruded on his memory, and he shuddered at the dreadful thoughts which arose in his mind.
Curiosity had directed the eyes of Adela to Amanda, but admiration, and an idea of having somewhere seen her face, riveted them upon her; at last the picture Oscar Fitzalan had shown occurred to her recollection, and she was immediately convinced it was no other than the original of that picture she now saw. Shocked at the sight of a person who, as she thought had stepped (though innocently) between her and felicity, and distressed by the emotions which past scenes, thus recalled, gave rise to, she entreated Lord Mortimer to conduct her from the box, that she might return home.
He complied with her request, but stopped in the lobby, and entreated her to tell him “where she had known the lady she had so attentively regarded.” Adela blushed, and would, if possible, have evaded the question; but the earnestness of his lordship’s manner compelled her to answer it. She said “she had no personal knowledge of the lady, but recollected her face, from having seen her picture with a gentleman.” “And who was the gentleman?” asked Lord Mortimer, with a forced smile and a faltering voice. “That,” replied Adela,[Pg 255] with involuntary quickness, “I will not tell.” “I should apologize, indeed,” cried Lord Mortimer, recollecting himself, “for a curiosity which may appear impertinent.” He led her to a chair, and deliberated whether he should not follow her example in quitting the house.
Miss Malcolm had first made him uneasy: uneasiness introduced doubts which Sir Charles Bingley had increased, and Mrs. Belgrave almost confirmed. He dreaded a horrid confirmation of his fears; the picture, like Othello’s handkerchief, was a source of unspeakable anguish. The agitation that Mrs. Belgrave had betrayed on mentioning it, joined to her concealment of the gentleman she had seen it with, tempted him to believe he was no other than her husband.
Yet, that he might not be accused of yielding rashly to jealousy, he resolved to confine his suspicions, like his pangs, to his own bosom, except assured they were well founded. A little time he supposed, would determine the opinion he should form of Amanda. If he found she encouraged Belgrave, he resolved to leave her without any explanation; if, on the contrary, he saw that she avoided him, he meant to mention the circumstance of the picture to her, yet so as not to hurt her feelings, and be regulated by her answer relative to his future conduct. He returned, at last, to the box, and procured a seat behind her. He had not occupied it long ere Colonel Belgrave (who, from a retired part of the house where he sat with some female friends, had observed Amanda) entered the next box, and made his way to the pillar against which she leaned. He endeavored to catch her eyes, but the noise he made on entering put her on her guard, and she instantly averted her face. Her embarrassment was visible to her party, and they all, Lord Mortimer excepted, enjoyed it. Scarcely could he refrain from chastising the audacity of Belgrave’s looks, who continued to gaze on Amanda, though he could not see her face. Nothing but the discovery which such a step would produce could have prevented his lordship, in his irritable state of mind, from chastising what he deemed the height of insolence.
At last the hour came for relieving Amanda from a situation extremely painful to her. As Lord Mortimer sat next the marchioness, he was compelled to offer her his hand. Freelove led Lady Euphrasia; Lady Greystock and Miss Malcolm followed her, and Amanda was the last who quitted the box. A crowd in the lobby impeded their progress. Amanda was close behind the marchioness, when Belgrave forced his way to her,[Pg 256] and attempted to take her hand at the very moment Lord Mortimer turned to look at her, who heard him say, “Dear, though unkind, Amanda, why this cruel change in your conduct?”
The eyes of Mortimer flashed fire. “Miss Fitzalan,” said he, in a voice trembling through passion, “if you will accept my arm, I will make way for you, or at least secure you from impertinence.” Amanda, though trembling and confounded by his looks, hesitated not to accept his offer. Belgrave knew his words alluded to him. At present, however, he resolved not to resent them, convinced, that if he did, his views on Amanda would be defeated. From that moment her beauty was not more powerful in stimulating his designs than his desire of revenge on Lord Mortimer. He saw he was fondly attached to Amanda, and he believed his proud heart would feel no event so afflictive as that which should deprive him of her.
Lord Mortimer handed Amanda in silence to the carriage; he was pressed to return to supper, but refused. The ladies found the marquis and Lord Cherbury together. Amanda retired to her chamber immediately after supper; the presence of Belgrave had increased the dejection which she hoped the amusements of the theatre would have dissipated; she now indeed longed for the period when she should be entitled to the protection of Lord Mortimer; when she should no longer dread the audacity or stratagems of Belgrave. Lord Cherbury, on her retiring, expressed his regret at her coldness to Sir Charles Bingley, by which she had lost a most honorable and advantageous attachment.
This was an opportunity not to be neglected by the marchioness, for commencing her operations against Fitzalan. A glance to Lady Greystock was the signal to begin.
“To those,” said Lady Greystock, “who are ignorant of Miss Fitzalan’s real motives for refusing Sir Charles, it must appear, no doubt, extraordinary; but ambitious people are not easily satisfied; indeed, I cannot blame her so much for entertaining aspiring notions as those who instilled them into her mind.”
Lord Cherbury stared, and requested an explanation of her words.
“Why, I declare, my lord,” cried she, “I do not know but that it will be more friendly to explain than conceal my meaning. When once informed of the young lady’s views, your lordship may be able to convince her of that fallacy, and prevail on her not to lose another good opportunity of settling herself in consequence of them; in short, my lord, Miss Fitzalan,[Pg 257] prompted by her father, has cast her eyes on Lord Mortimer. Presuming on your friendship, he thought a union between them might easily be accomplished. I do not believe Lord Mortimer, at first, gave any encouragement to their designs; but when the girl was continually thrown in his way, it was impossible not to notice her at last. I really expressed a thorough disapprobation to her coming to London, knowing their motives for desiring the excursion, but her father never ceased persecuting me till I consented to take her under my protection.” “Upon my word,” cried the marquis, who was not of the ladies’ privy council, though if he had it is probable he would not have objected to their schemes, “Captain Fitzalan must have had some such motive as this Lady Greystock has mentioned for sending his daughter to London, or else he would not have been so ridiculous as to put himself at the expense of fitting her out for company she has no right to enter.” “I never thought,” exclaimed Lord Cherbury, whose mind was irritated to the most violent degree of resentment against his injured friend, “that Captain Fitzalan could have acted with such duplicity. He knew the views I entertained for my son, and there is a mean treachery in his attempting to counteract them.” “Nay, my lord,” said Lady Greystock, “you are a father yourself, and must make allowances for the anxiety of a parent to establish a child.” “No, madam,” he replied; “I can make no allowance for a deviation from integrity, or for a sacrifice of honor and gratitude at the shrine of interest. The subject has discomposed me, and I must beg to be excused for abruptly retiring; nothing, indeed, I believe, can wound one so severely as deceit, where one reposed implicit confidence.”
The ladies were enraptured at the success of their scheme. The passion of Lord Cherbury could scarcely be smothered in their presence. On the head of Fitzalan they knew it would burst with full violence. They did not mention Belgrave; relative to him they resolved to affect profound ignorance.
The passions of Lord Cherbury were impetuous. He had, as I have already hinted, secret motives for desiring a connection between his family and the marquis’s ; and the idea of that desire being defeated drove him almost to distraction. He knew his son’s passions, though not so easily irritated as his own wer............