"With my poor father," said Ellen; "he has been very ill lately, and we came here on his account."

"Ill!--Old Mr. Elmour!--I'm extremely concerned--but whom have you to attend him?--you should send to town for Dr. Grant--do you know he is the only man now?--the only man Lady Bradstone and I have any dependence on--if I were dying, he is the man I should send for. Do have him for Mr. Elmour, my dear--and don't be alarmed, above all things--you know it's so natural, at your father's age, that he should not be as well as he has been--but I distress you--and detain you."

Our heroine, after running off these unmeaning sentences, pa.s.sed on, being ashamed to walk with Ellen in public, because Lady Bradstone had whispered, "_Who is she?_"--Not to be known in the world of fashion is an unpardonable crime, for which no merit can atone. Three days elapsed before Miss Turnbull went to see her friends, notwithstanding her extreme concern for poor Mr. Elmour. Her excuse to her conscience was, that Lady Bradstone's carriage could not sooner be spared. People in a certain rank of life are, or make themselves, slaves to horses and carriages; with every apparent convenience and luxury, they are frequently more dependent than their tradesmen or their servants.

There was a time when Almeria would not have been restrained by these imaginary _impossibilities_ from showing kindness to her friends; but that time was now completely past. She was, at present, anxious to avoid having any private conversation with Ellen, because she was ashamed to avow her change of views and sentiments. In the short morning visit which she paid her, Almeria talked of public places, of public characters, of dress and equipages, &c. She inquired, indeed, with a modish air of infinite sensibility, for poor Mr. Elmour; and when she heard that he was confined to his bed, she regretted most excessively that she could not see him; but a few seconds afterwards, with a suitable change of voice and countenance, she made an easy transition to the praise of a new dress of Lady Bradstone's invention. Frederick Elmour came into the room in the midst of the eulogium on her ladyship's taste--she was embarra.s.sed for a moment; but quickly recovering the tone of a fine lady, she spoke to him as if he had never been any thing to her but a common acquaintance. The dignity and firmness of his manner provoked her pride; she wished to coquet with him--she tried to excite his jealousy by talking of Lord Bradstone: but vain were all her airs and inuendoes; they could not extort from him even a sigh. She was somewhat consoled, however, by observing in his sister's countenance the expression, as she thought, of extreme mortification.

A few days after this visit, Miss Turnbull received the following note from Miss Elmour:

"MY DEAR ALMERIA,

"If you still wish that I should treat you as a friend, show me that you do, and you will find my affection unaltered. If, on the contrary, you have decided to pursue a mode of life, or to form connexions which make you ashamed to own any one for a friend who is not a fine lady, let our intimacy be dissolved for ever--it could only be a source of mutual pain. My father is better to-day, and wishes to see you. Will you spend this evening with him and with Your affectionate ELLEN ELMOUR?"

It happened that the very day Miss Turnbull received this note, Lady Bradstone was to have a concert, and Almeria knew that her ladyship would be offended if she were to spend the evening with the Elmours: it was, as she said to herself, _impossible_, therefore, to accept of Ellen's invitation. She called upon her in the course of the morning, to make an apology. She found Ellen beside her father, who was seated in his arm-chair: he looked extremely pale and weak: she was at first shocked at the change she saw in her old friend, and she could not utter the premeditated apology. Ellen took it for granted that she was come, in consequence of her note, to spend the day with her, and she embraced her with affectionate joy. Her whole countenance changed when our heroine began at last to talk of Lady Bradstone and the concert--Ellen burst into tears.

"My dear child," said Mr. Elmour, putting his hand upon his daughter's, which rested upon the arm of his chair, "I did not expect this weakness from you."

Miss Turnbull, impatient to shorten a scene which she had neither strength of mind to endure nor to prevent, rose to take leave.

"My dear Ellen," said she, in an irresolute tone, "my dearest creature, you must not distress yourself in this way--I must have you keep up your spirits. You confine yourself too much, indeed you do; and you see you are not equal to it. Your father will be better, and he will persuade you to leave him for an hour or two, I am sure, and we must have you amongst us; and I must introduce you to Lady Bradstone--she's a charming woman, I a.s.sure you--you would like her of all things, if you knew her.

Come--don't let me see you in this way. Really, my dear Ellen, this is so unlike you--I can a.s.sure you that, whatever you may think, I love you as well as ever I did, and never shall forget my obligations to _all_ your family; but, you know, a person who lives in the world, as I do, must make such terrible sacrifices of their time--one can't do as one pleases--one's an absolute slave. So you must forgive me, dear Ellen, for bidding you farewell for the present."

Ellen hastily wiped away her tears, and turning to Almeria with an air of dignity, held out her hand to her, and said, "Farewell for ever, Almeria!--May you never feel the want of a sincere and affectionate friend!--May the triumphs of fashion make you amends for all you sacrifice to obtain them!"

Miss Turnbull was abashed and agitated--she hurried out of the room to conceal her confusion, stepped into a carriage with a coronet, drove away, and endeavoured to forget all that had pa.s.sed. The concert in the evening recalled her usual train of ideas, and she persuaded herself that she had done all, and more than was necessary, in offering to introduce Ellen to Lady Bradstone. "How could she neglect such an offer?"

A few days after the concert, Almeria had the pleasure of being introduced to Lady Bradstone's four daughters--Lady Gabriella, Lady Agnes, Lady Bab, and Lady Kitty. Of the existence of these young ladies Almeria had scarcely heard--they had been educated at a fashionable boarding-school; and their mother was now under the disagreeable necessity of bringing them home to live with her, because the eldest was past seventeen.

Lady Gabriella was a beauty, and determined to be a Grace--but which of the three Graces, she had not yet decided.

Lady Agnes was plain, and resolved to be a wit.

Lady Bab and Lady Kitty were charming hoydens, with all the _modern_ simplicity of fourteen or fifteen in their manners. Lady Bab had a fine long neck, which was always in motion--Lady Kitty had white teeth, and was always laughing;--but it is impossible to characterize them, for they differed in nothing from a thousand other young ladies.

These four sisters agreed in but one point--in considering their mother as their common enemy. Taking it for granted that Miss Turnbull was her friend, she was looked upon by them as being naturally ent.i.tled to a share of their distrust and enmity. They found a variety of causes of complaint against our heroine; and if they had been at any loss, their respective waiting-maids would have furnished them with inexhaustible causes of quarrel.

Lady Bradstone could not bear to go with more than four in a coach.--"Why was Miss Turnbull always to have a front seat in the coach, and two of the young ladies to be always left at home on her account?"--"How could Lady Bradstone make such a favourite of a grazier's daughter, and prefer her to her own children as a companion?"

&c.

The young ladies never discouraged their attendants from saying all the ill-natured things that they could devise of Miss Turnbull, and they invented a variety of methods of tormenting her. Lady Gabriella found out that Almeria was horridly ugly and awkward; Lady Agnes _quizzed_ her perpetually; and the Ladies Bab and Kitty played upon her innumerable practical jokes. She was astonished to find in high life a degree of vulgarity of which her country companions would have been ashamed: but all such things in high life go under the general term _dashing_.

These young ladies were _dashers_. Alas! perhaps foreigners and future generations may not know the meaning of the term!

Our heroine's temper was not proof against the trials to which it was hourly exposed: perhaps the consciousness that she was not born to the situation in which she now moved, joined to her extreme anxiety to be thought genteel and fashionable, rendered her peculiarly irritable when her person and manners were attacked by ladies of quality. She endeavoured to conciliate her young enemies by every means in her power, and at length she found a method of pleasing them. They were immoderately fond of baubles, and they had not money enough to gratify this taste. Miss Turnbull at first, with great timidity, begged Lady Gabriella's acceptance of a ring, which seemed particularly to catch her fancy: the facility with which the ring was accepted, and the favourable change it produced, as if by magic, in her ladyship's manners towards our heroine, encouraged her to try similar experiments upon the other sisters. She spared not ear-rings, crosses, brooches, pins, and necklaces; and the young ladies in return began to show her all the friendship which can be purchased by such presents--or by any presents.

Even whilst she rejoiced at the change in their behaviour, she could not avoid despising them for the cause to which she knew it must be attributed; nor did she long enjoy even the temporary calm procured by these peace-offerings; for the very same things which propitiated the daughters offended the mother. Lady Bradstone one morning insisted upon Lady Gabriella's returning a necklace, which she had received from Almeria; and her ladyship informed Miss Turnbull, at the same time, with an air of supreme haughtiness, that "she could not possibly permit _her_ daughters to accept such valuable presents from any but their own relations; that if the Lady Bradstones did not know what became them, it was her duty to teach them propriety."

It was rather late in life to begin to teach, even if they had been inclined to learn. They resented her last lesson, or rather her last act of authority, with acrimony proportioned to the value of the object; and Miss Turnbull was compelled to hear their complaints. Lady Gabriella said, she was convinced that her mother's only reason for making her return the necklace was because she had not one quite so handsome. Lady Agnes, between whom and her mamma there was pending a dispute about a pair of diamond ear-rings, left by her grandmother, observed, that her mother might, if she pleased, call _jealousy, propriety_; but that she must not be surprised if other people used the old vocabulary; that her mamma's pride and vanity were always at war; for that though she was proud enough to see her daughters _show well_ in public, yet she required to have it said that she looked younger than any of them, and that she was infinitely better dressed.

Lady Bab and Lady Kitty did not fail in this favourable moment of general discontent to bring forward their list of grievances; and in the discussion of their rights and wrongs they continually appealed to our heroine, crowding round her whilst she stood silent and embarra.s.sed.

Ashamed of them and of herself, she compared the Lady Bradstones with Ellen--she compared the sisters-in-law she was soon to have with the friend she had forsaken. The young ladies mistook the expression of melancholy in Almeria's countenance at this instant, for sympathy in their sorrows; and her silence, for acquiescence in the justice of their complaints. They were reiterating their opinions with something like plebeian loudness of voice, when their mother entered the room. The ease with which her daughters changed their countenances and the subject of conversation, when she entered, might have prevented all suspicion but for the blushes of Almeria, who, though of all the party she was the least guilty, looked by far the most abashed. The necklace which hung from her hand, and on which in the midst of her embarra.s.sment her eyes involuntarily fell, seemed to Lady Bradstone proof positive against her.

Her ladyship recollected certain words she had heard as she opened the door, and now applied them without hesitation to herself. Politeness restrained the expression of her anger towards Miss Turnbull, but it burst furiously forth upon her daughters; and our heroine was now as much alarmed by the violence of her future mother-in-law as she had been disgusted by the meanness of her _intended_ sisters. From this day forward, Lady Bradstone's manner changed towards Almeria, who could plainly perceive, by her altered eye, that she had lost her confidence, and that her ladyship considered her as one who was playing a double part, and fomenting dissensions in her family. She thought herself bound, in honour to the daughters, not to make any explanation that could throw the blame upon them; and she bore in painful silence the many oblique reproaches, reflections upon ingrat.i.tude, dissimulation, and treachery, which she knew were aimed at her. The consciousness that she was treating Lady Bradstone with insincerity, in encouraging the addresses of her son, increased Miss Turnbull's embarra.s.sment; she repented having for a moment encouraged his clandestine attachment; and she now urged him in the strongest manner to impart his intentions to his mother. He a.s.sured her that she should be obeyed; but his obedience was put off from day to day; and, in the mean time, the more Almeria saw of his family, the more her desire to be connected with them diminished.

The affair of the necklace was continually renewed, in some shape or other, and a perpetual succession of petty disputes occurred, in which both parties were in the wrong, and each openly or secretly blamed her for not taking their part. Her mind was so much hara.s.sed, that all her natural cheerfulness forsook her; and the being obliged to a.s.sume spirits in company, and among people who were not worth the toil of pleasing, became every hour more irksome. The transition from these domestic miseries to public dissipation and gaieties made her still more melancholy.

When she calmly examined her own heart, she perceived that she felt little or no affection for Lord Bradstone, though she had been flattered by his attentions, when the a.s.siduity of a man of rank and fashion was new to her; but now the joys of being a countess began to fade in her imagination. She hesitated--she had not strength of mind sufficient to decide--she was afraid to proceed; yet she had not courage to retract.

Ellen's parting words recurred to her mind--"May you never feel the want of a sincere and affectionate friend! May the triumphs of fashion make you amends for all you sacrifice to obtain them!"--"Alas!" thought she, "Ellen foresaw that I should soon be disgusted with this joyless, heartless intercourse; but how can I recede? how can I disengage myself from this Lord Bradstone, now that I have encouraged his addresses?--Fool that I have been!--Oh! if I could now be advised by that best of friends, who used to a.s.sist me in all my difficulties!--But she despises, she has renounced me--she has bid me farewell for ever!"

Notwithstanding this "farewell for ever," there was still at the bottom of Almeria's heart, even whilst she bewailed herself in this manner, a secret hope that Ellen's esteem and friendship might be recovered, and she resolved to make the trial. She was eager to put this idea into execution the moment it occurred to her; and after apologizing to the Lady Bradstones for not, as usual, accompanying them in their morning ride, she set out to walk to Miss Elmour's lodgings. It was a hot day--she walked fast from the hurry and impatience of her mind. The servant who attended her knocked twice at Mr. Elmour's door before any one answered; at last the door was opened by a maid-servant, with a broom in her hand.

"Is Miss Elmour at home?"

"No, sir, she left Cheltenham this morning betimes, and we be getting the house ready for other lodgers."

Almeria was very much disappointed--she looked flushed and fatigued; and the maid said, "Ma'am, if you'll be pleased to rest a while, you're welcome, I'm sure--and the parlour's cleaned out--be pleased to sit down, ma'am."--Almeria followed, for she was really tired, and glad to accept the good-natured offer. She was shown into the same parlour where she had but a few weeks before taken leave of Ellen. The maid rolled forward the great arm-chair, in which old Mr. Elmour had been seated; and as she moved it, a gold-headed cane fell to the ground.

Almeria's eyes turned upon it directly as it fell; for it was an old friend of hers: many a time she had played with it when she was a child, and for many years she had been accustomed to see it in the hand of a man whom she loved and respected. It brought many pleasing and some painful a.s.sociations to her mind--for she reflected how ill she had behaved to the owner of it the last time she saw him.

"Ay, ma'am," said the maid, "it is the poor old gentleman's cane, sure enough--it has never been stirred from here, nor his hat and gloves, see, since the day he died."

"Died!--Good Heavens!--Is Mr. Elmour dead?"

"Yes, sure--he died last Tuesday, and was buried yesterday. You'd better drink some of this water, ma'am," said the girl, filling a gla.s.s that stood on the table. "Why! dear heart! I would not have mentioned it so sudden in this way, but I thought it could no way hurt you. Why, it never came into my head you could be a friend of the family's, nor more, may be, at the utmost, than an acquaintance, as you never used to call much during his illness."

This was the most cutting reproach, and the innocence with which it was uttered made it still more severe. Almeria burst into tears; and the poor girl, not knowing what to say next, and sorry for all she had said, took up the cane, which had fallen from Almeria's hands, and applied herself to brightening the gold head with great diligence. At this instant there was a double knock at the house-door.

"It's only the young gentleman, ma'am," said the maid, as she went towards the door.

"What young gentleman?" said Almeria, rising from her seat.

"Young Mr. Elmour, ma'am: he did not go away with his sister, but stayed to settle some matters. Oh, they have let him in!"

The maid stood with the parlour-door half open in her hand, not being able to decide in her own fancy whether the lady wished that he should come into the room or stay out; and before either she, or perhaps Almeria, had decided this point, it was settled for them by his walking in. Almeria was standing so as to be hid by the door; and he was so intent upon his own thoughts, that, without perceiving there was any body in the room, he walked straight forward to the table, took up his father's hat and gloves, and gave a deep sigh. He heard his sigh echoed--looked up, and started at the sight of Almeria, but immediately a.s.sumed an air of distant and cold respect. He was in deep mourning, and looked pale, as if he had suffered much. Almeria endeavoured to speak; but could get out only a few words, expressive of _the shock and astonishment_ she had just felt.

"Undoubtedly, madam, you must have been shocked," replied Frederick, in a calm voice; "but you could not have reason to be much astonished. My father's life had been despaired of some time--you must have seen how much he was changed when you were here a few weeks ago." Almeria could make no reply; the tears, in spite of all her efforts to restrain them, rolled down her cheeks: the cold, and almost severe, manner, in which Frederick spoke, and the consciousness that she deserved it, struck her to the heart. He followed her, as she abruptly quitted the room, and in a tone of more kindness, but with the same distant manner, begged to have the honour of attending her home. She bowed her head, to give that a.s.sent which her voice could not at this instant utter; and she was involuntarily going to put her arm within his; but, as he did not seem to perceive this motion, she desisted, coloured violently, adjusted the drapery of her gown to give employment to the neglected hand, then walked on with precipitation. Her foot slipped as she was crossing the street; Frederick offered his arm--she could not guess, from the way in which it was presented, whether her former attempt had been perceived or not. This trifle appeared to her a point of the utmost importance; for by this she thought she could decide whether his feelings were really as cold towards her as they appeared, whether he felt love and anger, or contempt and indifference. Whilst she was endeavouring in vain to form her opinion, all the time she leant upon his arm, and walked on in silence, a carriage pa.s.sed them; Frederick bowed, and his countenance was suddenly illuminated. Almeria turned eagerly to see the cause of the change, and as the carriage drove on she caught a glimpse of a beautiful young lady. A spasm of jealousy seized her heart--she withdrew her arm from Frederick's. The abruptness of the action did not create any emotion in him--his thoughts were absent. In a few minutes he slackened his pace, and turned from the road towards a path across the fields, asking if Miss Turnbull had any objection to going that way to Lady Bradstone's instead of along the dusty road. She made no objection--she thought she perceived that Frederick was preparing to say something of importance to her, and her heart beat violently.

"Miss Turnbull will not, I hope, think what I am going to say impertinent; she may be a.s.sured that it proceeds from no motive but the desire to prevent the future unhappiness of one who once honoured my family with her friendship."

"You are too good--I do not deserve that you should be interested in my happiness or unhappiness--I cannot think you impertinent--pray speak freely."

"And quickly," she would have added, if she dared. Without abating any of his reserve from this encouragement, he proceeded precisely in the same tone as before, and with the same steady composure.

"An accidental acquaintance with a friend of my Lord Bradstone's, has put me in possession of what, perhaps, you wish to be a secret, madam, and what I shall inviolably keep as such."

"I cannot pretend to be ignorant of what you allude to," said Almeria; "but it is more than probable that you may not have heard the exact state of the business; indeed it is impossible that you should, because no one but myself could fully explain my sentiments. In fact they were undecided; I was this very morning going to consult your sister upon that subject."

"You will not suppose that I am going to intrude my counsels upon you, Miss Turnbull; nothing can be farther from my intention: I am merely going to mention a fact to you, of which I apprehend you are ignorant, and of which, as you are circ.u.mstanced, no one in your present society, perhaps no one in the world but myself, would choose to apprize you.

Forgive me, madam, if I try your patience by this preface: I am very desirous not to wound your feelings more than is necessary."

"Perhaps," said Almeria, with a doubtful smile, "perhaps you are under a mistake, and imagine my feelings to be much more interested than they really are. If you have any thing to communicate to Lord Bradstone's disadvantage, you may mention it to me without hesitation, and without fear of injuring my happiness or his; for, to put you at ease at once, I am come to a determination positively to decline his lordship's addresses."

"This a.s.surance certainly puts me at ease at once," said Frederick. But Almeria observed that he neither expressed by his voice nor countenance any of that joy which she had hoped to inspire by the a.s.surance: on the contrary, he heard it as a determination in which he was personally unconcerned, and in which pure benevolence alone could give him an interest. "This relieves me," continued he, "from all necessity of explaining myself further."