"I am sure I'm exceedingly obliged to Miss Caroline Percy," said her ladyship, adjusting her head-dress. "There, now, all's right again--thank you, Miss Percy--don't trouble yourself, pray."

The heartless manner of these thanks, and her ladyship's preparing to go on again with her exhibition, so displeased and disgusted Mr. Barclay, that he left her to the flattery of Sir James Harcourt, and, sighing deeply, quitted the room.

Lady Angelica, proud of showing her power of tormenting a man of his sense, smiled victorious; and, in a half whisper, said to Mrs.

Hungerford, "Exit Mr. Barclay, jealous, because he thinks I did the shawl att.i.tudes for Sir James, and not for him--Poor man! he's very angry; but he'll ride it off--or I'll smile it off."

Mrs. Hungerford shook her head. When her ladyship's exhibition had finished, and when Sir James had continued repeating, either with his words or his looks, "Charming! Is not she charming?" till the time of dressing, an hour to which he was always punctual, he retired to his toilette, and Lady Angelica found herself alone with Mrs. Hungerford.

"Oh! how tired I am!" cried her ladyship, throwing herself on a sofa beside her. "My spirits do so wear me out! I am sure I'm too much for you, Mrs. Hungerford; I am afraid you think me a strange wild creature: but, dear madam, why do you look so grave?"

"My dear Lady Angelica Headingham," said Mrs. Hungerford, in a serious but affectionate tone, laying her hand upon Lady Angelica's as she spoke, "I was, you know, your mother's most intimate friend--I wish to be yours. Considering this and my age, I think I may venture to speak to you with more freedom than any one else now living could with propriety--it grieves me to see such a woman as you are, being spoiled by adulation."

"Thank you, my dear Mrs. Hungerford! and now do tell me all my faults,"

said Lady Angelica: "only first let me just say, that if you are going to tell me that I am a coquette, and a fool, I know I am--both--and I can't help it; and I know I am what some people call _odd_--but I would not for the world be a common character."

"Then you must not be a coquette," said Mrs. Hungerford, "for that _is_ common character--the hackneyed character of every play, of every novel.

And whatever is common is vulgar, you know: airs and affectation are common and paltry--throw them aside, my dear Lady Angelica; disdain flattery, prove that you value your own esteem above vulgar admiration, and then, with such beauty and talents as you possess, you may be what you admire, an uncommon character."

"_May_be!" repeated Lady Angelica in a voice of vexation. "Well, I know I have a hundred faults; but I never before heard any body, friend or enemy, deny that I _am_ an uncommon character. Now, Mrs. Hungerford, do you know any one of a more uncommon character?"

"Yes," said Mrs. Hungerford, smiling, "I know the thing that's most uncommon,

'I know a reasonable woman, Handsome and witty, yet a friend.'"

"Oh! your friend, Miss Caroline Percy, I suppose. Well! though she is so great a favourite of yours, I must say that, to my fancy, she is as little of an uncommon character as any girl I ever saw--uncommon beauty, I acknowledge, she has, though not the style of face I like."

"And an uncommonly good understanding, without one grain of envy, affectation, or vanity," said Mrs. Hungerford.

"Vanity!--Stay till you see her tried," said Lady Angelica; "stay till she has gone through one winter's campaign in London; stay till she has as many admirers as--"

"As you have," said Mrs. Hungerford, smiling. "She seems to be in a fair way of soon trying that experiment to your satisfaction."

A considerable pause ensued; during which many conflicting pa.s.sions appeared in Lady Angelica's countenance.

"After all, Mrs. Hungerford," resumed she, "do you think Mr. Barclay is really attached to me?"

"I think he _was_ really attached to you, and strongly: but you have been doing all you can to weaken and destroy his attachment, I fear."

"Fear nothing! I fear nothing," exclaimed Lady Angelica, "now you tell me, dear Mrs. Hungerford, that you do not doubt the _reality_ of his love: all the rest I will answer for--trust to me, I know my game."

Mrs. Hungerford sighed; and replied, "I am old, have stood by, and seen this game played and lost so often, and by as able players as Lady Angelica Headingham--take care--remember I warn you."

Miss Caroline Percy came into the room at this instant--Lady Angelica went to her toilette to repair her charms.

CHAPTER XVII.

While Mrs. Hungerford was wasting her good advice upon Lady Angelica, Sir James Harcourt at his toilette received this day's letters, which he read, as usual, while his hair was dressing. Some of these letters were from creditors, who were impatient to hear when his _advantageous marriage_ would be concluded, or when he would obtain that place which had been so long promised. The place at court, as he was by this post informed by a _private, very confidential_ letter, under a government cover and huge seal, from his intimate friend, my Lord Skreene, ministers had found themselves under the unfortunate necessity of giving away, to secure three votes on a certain cabinet question.

Sir James threw the letter from him, without reading the rest of his dear friend's official apologies: "So, the place at court is out of the question--a wife must be my last resource," thought he, "but how to bring her to the point?"

Sir James knew that though he was now in high favour, he might, at some sudden turn of caprice, be discarded or deserted by his fair one, as had been the fate of so many of his predecessors. The ruling pa.s.sion, vanity, must be touched, and the obvious means of awakening jealousy were in his power. He determined to pay attentions to Miss Caroline Percy: his experience in the tactics of gallantry supplying the place of knowledge of the human heart, he counterfeited the symptoms of a new pa.s.sion, and acted "The Inconstant" so well, that Lady Angelica had no doubt of his being what be appeared. She was not prepared for this turn of fate, well as she thought she knew her game, and at this unlucky moment, just when she wanted to play off Sir James against Mr.

Barclay--and in an old castle in the country too, where no subst.i.tute was to be had!

Her ladyship was the more vexed, because Mrs. Hungerford must see her distress. Unused to any thing that opposed her wishes, she lost all temper, and every word and look manifested resentment and disdain towards her innocent and generous rival. In this jealousy, as there was no mixture of love to colour and conceal its nature, it could not pa.s.s for refinement of sentiment--it bore no resemblance to any thing n.o.ble--it must have been detected, even by a less penetrating and less interested observer than Mr. Barclay. His eyes were now completely opened.

In the mean time, Caroline's character, the more it was brought into light, the more its value, goodness, and purity appeared. In the education of a beauty, as of a prince, it is essential early to inspire an utter contempt of flattery, and to give the habit of observing, and consequently the power of judging, of character.

Caroline, on this occasion, when, perhaps, some little temptation might have been felt by some ladies, remembered her own prayer against coquetry--her manner towards Sir James was free from all possibility of reproach or misconstruction: and by simply and steadily adhering to the truth, and going the straight road, she avoided all the difficulties in which she would have been involved, had she deviated but for a moment into any crooked path.

But to return to Lady Angelica Headingham. She was pleased to see Sir James Harcourt disconcerted, and delighted to see him mortified. Her ladyship's disdainful manner towards Caroline was thrown aside,

"And all the cruel language of the eye"

changed at once. Lady Angelica acknowledged that no one could show more magnanimity than Miss Caroline Percy had displayed in her conduct to Sir James Harcourt. This speech was made of course to be repeated, and when Caroline heard it she could not help smiling at the word magnanimity, which sounded to her rather too grand for the occasion.

Sir James Harcourt finding himself completely foiled in his schemes, and perceiving that the parties were closing and combining in a manner which his knowledge of the world had not taught him to foresee, endeavoured with all possible address and expedition to make his separate peace with Lady Angelica. Her ladyship, however, was proud to show that she had too much sense and spirit to accept again the homage of this recreant knight. He had not time to sue for pardon--his adventure might have ended in a jail; so forthwith he took his departure from Hungerford Castle, undetermined whether he should again haste to court to beg a place, or bend his course to the city, there to barter his fashion against the solid gold of some merchant, rolling in his majesty's coin, who might be silly enough to give his daughter, for a bow, to a courtier without a shilling. On one point, however, Sir James was decided--betide him weal, betide him woe--that his next mistress should neither be a wit, nor a beauty, nor yet a patroness.

After the departure of the baronet, the Lady Angelica expected to find her remaining lover at her feet, in transports of joy and grat.i.tude for this haughty dismissal of his rival. No such thing: Mr. Barclay seemed disposed to throw himself at the feet of another, and of the last person in the world at whose feet her ladyship could bear to think of seeing him. Yet if she had even now taken Mrs. Hungerford's friendly warning, she might still have saved herself from mortification; but she was hurried on by her evil genius--the spirit of coquetry.

She had promised to pay a visit this summer to an aunt of Mr. Barclay, Lady B----, who lived in Leicestershire. And now, when every thing was arranged for her reception, Lady Angelica changed her mind, and told Mr.

Barclay that she could not go, that she had just received letters from town, from several of her fashionable friends, who were setting out for Weymouth, and who insisted upon her meeting them there--and there was a delightful Miss Kew, a protegee of hers, who was gone to Weymouth in the hope and trust that her ladyship would _produce_ her and her new novel at the reading parties which Lady Angelica had projected. She declared that she could not possibly disappoint Miss Kew; besides, she had promised to carry Mr. Seebright to Weymouth, to introduce him and his poem to her friends--his subscription and the success of his poem entirely depended upon her going to Weymouth--she could not possibly disappoint _him_.

Mr. Barclay thought more of his own disappointment--and said so: at which her ladyship rejoiced, for she wished to make this a trial of her power; and she desired rather that her reasons should not appear valid, and that her excuses should not be reasonable, on purpose that she might compel Mr. Barclay to submit to her caprice, and carry him off in triumph in her train.

She carelessly repeated that Leicestershire was out of the question at this time, but that Mr. Barclay might attend her, if he pleased.

But it did not please him: he did not think that his aunt was properly treated, and he preferred her to all the bel-esprits and fine ladies who were going to Weymouth--her charming self excepted.

She depended too much on the power of that charming self. Mr. Barclay, whose bands she had gradually loosened, now made one resolute effort, a.s.serted and recovered his liberty. He declared that to Weymouth he could not have the honour of attending her: if her ladyship thought the claims and feelings of her protegees of greater consequence than his, if she held herself more bound by the promises she had given to Mr.

Seebright, Miss Kew, or any of her bel-esprit friends, than by those with which she had honoured his aunt, he could not presume to dispute her pleasure, or further to press Lady B.'s request; he could only lament--and submit.

Lady Angelica flattered herself that this was only a bravado, or a temporary ebullition of courage, but, to her surprise and dismay, Mr.

Barclay continued firm, calm, and civil. His heart now turned to the object on which his understanding had long since told him it should fix.

He saw that Miss Caroline Percy was all that could make him happy for life, if he could win her affections; but of the possibility of succeeding he had great doubts. He had, to be sure, some circ.u.mstances in his favour: he was of a good family, and had a considerable fortune; in a worldly point of view he was a most advantageous match for Caroline Percy, but he knew that an establishment was not the _first_ object, either with her, or with her parents; neither could he wish that any motives of interest should operate in his favour. His character, his principles, were good, and he had reason to believe that Mr. Percy was impressed with a highly favourable opinion of his good sense and general understanding. Caroline talked to him always as if she liked his conversation, and felt esteem for his character; but the very freedom and ease of her manner showed that she had no thoughts of him. He was many years older than Caroline: it did not amount to an absolute disparity, but it was an alarming difference. Mr. Barclay, who estimated himself with perfect impartiality and candour, was sensible that though his temper was good, yet that he was somewhat fastidious, and though his manners were polite, yet they were reserved--they wanted that amenity, gaiety, and frankness, which might be essential to win and keep a lady's heart. The more his love, the more doubts of his own deserts increased; but at last he determined to try his fate. He caught a glimpse of Caroline one morning as she was drawing in the Oriel. Her sister and the two Lady Pembrokes were in the library, and he thought he was secure of finding her alone.

"May I beg the favour of a few minutes?"--he began with a voice of much emotion as he entered the room; but he stopped short at the sight of Lady Angelica.

In spite of all the rouge she wore, her ladyship's change of colour was striking. Her lips trembled and grew pale. Mr. Barclay's eyes fixed upon her for one moment with astonishment, then turning calmly away, he addressed himself to Caroline, his emotion recurring, though he merely spoke to her of a drawing which she was examining, and though he only said, "Is this yours?"

"Yes, Lady Angelica has just given it to me; it is one of her drawings--a view of Weymouth."

"Very beautiful," said Mr. Barclay, coldly--"a view of Weymouth."

"Where I hope to be the day after to-morrow," cried Lady Angelica, speaking in a hurried, piqued, and haughty voice--"I am dying to get to Weymouth. Mr. Barclay, if you have any letters for your friends there, I shall be happy to carry them. Only let them be given to my woman in time," added her ladyship, rising; "and now I must go and say _vivace!