"I can't say particularly, upon my soul," replied Mr. St. George; "for my own part, I was in boots, so you know I was out of the question. But what signifies all that now? Come, come, we had best think of looking after our dinners."

Clarence Hervey, who had very quick feelings, was extremely hurt by the indifference which his dear friends had shown when his life was in danger: he was apt to believe that he was really an object of affection and admiration amongst his companions; and that though they were neither very wise, nor very witty, they were certainly very good-natured. When they had forfeited, by their late conduct, these claims to his regard, his partiality for them was changed into contempt.

"You had better come home and dine with me, Mr. Hervey," said Mr.

Percival, "if you be not absolutely engaged; for here is your physician, who tells me that temperance is necessary for a man just recovered from drowning, and Mr. Rochfort keeps too good a table, I am told, for one in your condition."

Clarence accepted of this invitation with a degree of pleasure which perfectly astonished Mr. St. George.

"Every man knows his own affairs best," said he to Clarence, as he stepped into his hackney coach; "but for my share, I will do my friend Rochfort the justice to say that no one lives as well as he does."

"If to live well mean nothing but to eat," said Clarence.

"Now," said Dr. X----, looking at his watch, "it will be eight o'clock by the time we get to Upper Grosvenor-street, and Lady Anne will probably have waited dinner for us about two hours, which I apprehend is sufficient to try the patience of any woman but Griselda. Do not," continued he, turning to Clarence Hervey, "expect to see an old-fashioned, spiritless, patient Griselda, in Lady Anne Percival: I can a.s.sure you that she is--but I will neither tell you what she is, nor what she is not. Every man who has any abilities, likes to have the pleasure and honour of finding out a character by his own penetration, instead of having it forced upon him at full length in capital letters of gold, finely emblazoned and illuminated by the hand of some injudicious friend: every child thinks the violet of his own finding the sweetest. I spare you any farther allusion and ill.u.s.trations," concluded Dr. X----, "for here we are, thank G.o.d, in Upper Grosvenor-street."

CHAPTER VIII.

A FAMILY PARTY.

They found Lady Anne Percival in the midst of her children, who all turned their healthy, rosy, intelligent faces towards the door, the moment that they heard their father's voice. Clarence Hervey was so much struck with the expression of happiness in Lady Anne's countenance, that he absolutely forgot to compare her beauty with Lady Delacour's. Whether her eyes were large or small, blue or hazel, he could not tell; nay, he might have been puzzled if he had been asked the colour of her hair.

Whether she were handsome by the rules of art, he knew not; but he felt that she had the essential charm of beauty, the power of prepossessing the heart immediately in her favour. The effect of her manners, like that of her beauty, was rather to be felt than described. Every body was at ease in her company, and none thought themselves called upon to admire her. To Clarence Hervey, who had been used to the brilliant and _exigeante_ Lady Delacour, this respite from the fatigue of admiration was peculiarly agreeable. The unconstrained cheerfulness of Lady Anne Percival spoke a mind at ease, and immediately imparted happiness by exacting sympathy; but in Lady Delacour's wit and gaiety there was an appearance of art and effort, which often destroyed the pleasure that she wished to communicate. Mr. Hervey was, perhaps unusually, disposed to reflection, by having just escaped from drowning; for he had made all these comparisons, and came to this conclusion, with the accuracy of a metaphysician, who has been accustomed to study cause and effect--indeed there was no species of knowledge for which he had not taste and talents, though, to please fools, he too often affected "the bliss of ignorance."

The children at Lady Anne Percival's happened to be looking at some gold fish, which were in a gla.s.s globe, and Dr. X------, who was a general favourite with the younger as well as with the elder part of the family, was seized upon the moment he entered the room: a pretty little girl of five years old took him prisoner by the flap of the coat, whilst two of her brothers a.s.sailed him with questions about the ears, eyes, and fins of fishes. One of the little boys filliped the gla.s.s globe, and observed, that the fish immediately came to the surface of the water, and seemed to hear the noise very quickly; but his brother doubted whether the fish heard the noise, and remarked, that they might be disturbed by seeing or feeling the motion of the water, when the gla.s.s was struck.

Dr. X---- observed, that this was a very learned dispute, and that the question had been discussed by no less a person than the Abbe Nollet; and he related some of the ingenious experiments tried by that gentleman, to decide whether fishes can or cannot hear. Whilst the doctor was speaking, Clarence Hervey was struck with the intelligent countenance of one of the little auditors, a girl of about ten or twelve years old; he was surprised to discover in her features, though not in their expression, a singular resemblance to Lady Delacour. He remarked this to Mr. Percival, and the child, who overheard him, blushed as red as scarlet. Dinner was announced at this instant, and Clarence Hervey thought no more of the circ.u.mstance, attributing the girl's blush to confusion at being looked at so earnestly. One of the little boys whispered as they were going down to dinner, "Helena, I do believe that this is the good-natured gentleman who went out of the path to make room for us, instead of running over us as the other man did." The children agreed that Clarence Hervey certainly was the _good-natured gentleman_, and upon the strength of this observation, one of the boys posted himself next to Clarence at dinner, and by all the little playful manoeuvres in his power endeavoured to show his grat.i.tude, and to cultivate a friendship which had been thus auspiciously commenced.

Mr. Hervey, who piqued himself upon being able always to suit his conversation to his companions, distinguished himself at dinner by an account of the Chinese fishing-bird, from which he pa.s.sed to the various ingenious methods of fishing practised by the Russian Cossacks. From modern he went to ancient fish, and he talked of that which was so much admired by the Roman epicures for exhibiting a succession of beautiful colours whilst it is dying; and which was, upon that account, always suffered to die in the presence of the guests, as part of the entertainment.--Clarence was led on by the questions of the children from fishes to birds; he spoke of the Roman aviaries, which were so constructed as to keep from the sight of the prisoners that they contained, "the fields, woods, and every object which might remind them of their former liberty."--From birds he was going on to beasts, when he was nearly struck dumb by the forbidding severity with which an elderly lady, who sat opposite to him, fixed her eyes upon him. He had not, till this instant, paid the smallest attention to her; but her stern countenance was now so strongly contrasted with the approving looks of the children who sat next to her, that he could not help remarking it.

He asked her to do him the honour to drink a gla.s.s of wine with him. She declined doing him that honour; observing that she never drank more than one gla.s.s of wine at dinner, and that she had just taken one with Mr.

Percival. Her manner was well-bred, but haughty in the extreme; and she was so pa.s.sionate, that her anger sometimes conquered even her politeness. Her dislike to Clarence Hervey was apparent, even in her silence. "If the old gentlewoman has taken an antipathy to me at first sight, I cannot help it," thought he, and he went on to the beasts. The boy, who sat next him, had asked some questions about the proboscis of the elephant, and Mr. Hervey mentioned Ives's account of the elephants in India, who have been set to watch young children, and who draw them back gently with their trunks, when they go out of bounds. He talked next of the unicorn; and addressing himself to Dr. X---- and Mr.

Percival, he declared that in his opinion Herodotus did not deserve to be called the father of lies; he cited the mammoth to prove that the apocryphal chapter in the history of beasts should not be contemned--that it would in all probability be soon established as true history. The dessert was on the table before Clarence had done with the mammoth.

As the butler put a fine dish of cherries upon the table, he said,

"My lady, these cherries are a present from the old gardener to Miss Delacour."

"Set them before Miss Delacour then," said Lady Anne. "Helena, my dear, distribute your own cherries."

At the name of Delacour, Clarence Hervey, though his head was still half full of the mammoth, looked round in astonishment; and when he saw the cherries placed before the young lady, whose resemblance to Lady Delacour he had before observed, he could not help exclaiming,

"That young lady then is not a daughter of your ladyship's?"

"No; but I love her as well as if she were," replied Lady Anne.--"What were you saying about the mammoth?"

"That the mammoth is supposed to be------------" but interrupting himself, Clarence said in an inquiring tone--"A _niece_ of Lady Delacour's?"

"Her ladyship's _daughter_, sir," said the severe old lady, in a voice more terrific than her looks.

"Shall I give you some strawberries, Mr. Hervey," said lady Anne, "or will you let Helena help you to some cherries?"

"Her ladyship's _daughter!_" exclaimed Clarence Hervey in a tone of surprise.

"Some cherries, sir?" said Helena; but her voice faltered so much, that she could hardly utter the words.

Clarence perceived that he had been the cause of her agitation, though he knew not precisely by what means; and he now applied himself in silence to the picking of his strawberries with great diligence.

The ladies soon afterwards withdrew, and as Mr. Percival did not touch upon the subject again, Clarence forbore to ask any further questions, though he was considerably surprised by this sudden discovery. When he went into the drawing-room to tea, he found his friend, the stern old lady, speaking in a high declamatory tone. The words which he heard as he came into the room were--

"If there were no Clarence Herveys, there would be no Lady Delacours."--Clarence bowed as if he had received a high compliment--the old lady walked away to an antechamber, fanning herself with great energy.

"Mrs. Margaret Delacour," said Lady Anne, in a low voice to Hervey, "is an aunt of Lord Delacour's. A woman whose heart is warmer than her temper."

"And that is never cool," said a young lady, who sat next to Lady Anne.

"I call Mrs. Margaret Delacour the volcano; I'm sure I am never in her company without dreading an eruption. Every now and then out comes with a tremendous noise, fire, smoke, and rubbish."

"And precious minerals," said Lady Anne, "amongst the rubbish."

"But the best of it is," continued the young lady, "that she is seldom in a pa.s.sion without making a hundred mistakes, for which she is usually obliged afterwards to ask a thousand pardons."

"By that account," said Lady Anne, "which I believe to be just, her contrition is always ten times as great as her offence."

"Now you talk of contrition, Lady Anne," said Mr. Hervey, "I should think of my own offences: I am very sorry that my indiscreet questions gave Miss Delacour any pain--my head was so full of the mammoth, that I blundered on without seeing what I was about till it was too late."

"Pray, sir," said Mrs. Margaret Delacour, who now returned, and took her seat upon a sofa, with the solemnity of a person who was going to sit in judgment upon a criminal, "pray, sir, may I ask how long you have been acquainted with my Lady Delacour?"

Clarence Hervey took up a book, and with great gravity kissed it, as if he had been upon his oath in a court of justice, and answered,

"To the best of my recollection, madam, it is now four years since I had first the pleasure and honour of seeing Lady Delacour."

"And in that time, intimately as you have had the pleasure of being acquainted with her ladyship, you have never discovered that she had a daughter?"

"Never," said Mr. Hervey.

"There, Lady Anne!--There!" cried Mrs. Delacour, "will you tell me after this, that Lady Delacour is not a monster?"

"Every body says that she's a prodigy," said Lady Anne; "and prodigies and monsters are sometimes thought synonymous terms."

"Such a mother was never heard of," continued Mrs. Delacour, "since the days of Savage and Lady Macclesfield. I am convinced that she _hates_ her daughter. Why she never speaks of her--she never sees her--she never thinks of her!"

"Some mothers speak more than they think of their children, and others think more than they speak of them," said Lady Anne.

"I always thought," said Mr. Hervey, "that Lady Delacour was a woman of great sensibility."

"Sensibility!" exclaimed the indignant old lady, "she has no sensibility, sir--none--none. She who lives in a constant round of dissipation, who performs no one duty, who exists only for herself; how does she show her sensibility?--Has she sensibility for her husband--for her daughter--for any one useful purpose upon earth?--Oh, how I hate the cambric handkerchief sensibility that is brought out only to weep at a tragedy!--Yes; Lady Delacour has sensibility enough, I grant ye, when sensibility is the fashion. I remember well her performing the part of a nurse with vast applause; and I remember, too, the sensibility she showed, when the child that she nursed fell a sacrifice to her dissipation. The second of her children, that she killed--"

"Killed!--Oh! surely, my dear Mrs. Delacour, that is too strong a word,"

said Lady Anne: "you would not make a Medea of Lady Delacour!"