"She never had the first, I can promise you," cried mademoiselle.

"Never," said Lady Augusta. The a.s.sertions had not the power to convince; they were p.r.o.nounced with much vehemence, but not with the simplicity of truth. Mr. Mountague was determined to have the point cleared up; and he immediately offered to ride back to Cheltenham, and return the second volume. At this proposal, Lady Augusta, who foresaw that her falsehood would be detected, turned pale; but mademoiselle, with a laugh of effrontery, which she thought was putting a good face upon the matter, exclaimed,

"Eh! listen to me--you may spare yourself de trouble of your ride," said she, "for the truth is, I have de first volume. _Mon Dieu!_ I have not committed murder--do not look so shock--what signify what I read at my age?"

"But Lady Augusta, your pupil!" said Mr. Mountague.

"I tell you she has never read one word of it; and, after all, is she child now? When she was, Miladi S---- was very particular, and I, of consequence and of course, in de choice of her books; but now, _oder affaire_, she is at liberty, and my maxim is--_Tout est sain aux sains_."

Mr. Mountague's indignation was now strongly raised against this odious governess, and he looked upon her pupil with an eye of compa.s.sion. "So early, so young, tainted by the pernicious maxims of a worthless woman!"

"Eh, _donc_, what signify your silence and your salts?" cried mademoiselle, turning to her.

"If I could be spared this scene at present," said Lady Augusta, faintly--"I really am not well. We had better talk over this business some other time, Mr. Mountague:" to this he acceded, and the lady gained more by her salts and silence than her governess did by her garrulous effrontery.

When she talked over the business with Mr. Mountague, she threw all the blame upon mademoiselle, and she appeared extremely shocked and alarmed at the idea that she had lessened herself by her _folly_, as she called it, in the esteem of a man of superior sense and taste. It was perhaps possible that, at this moment of her life, her character might have taken a new turn, that she might really have been awakened to higher views and n.o.bler sentiments than any she had ever yet known; but the baleful influence of her constant attendant and conductress prevailed against her _better self_. Mademoiselle continually represented to her, that she did not know or exert the whole of her power over Mr.

Mountague; and she excited her to caprice and coquetry. The fate of trifling characters is generally decided by trifles: we must beg leave to relate the important history of a turban.

Mlle. Panache, who piqued herself much upon her skill as a milliner, made up a certain turban for Lady Augusta, which Dashwood admired extremely, but which Mr. Mountague had the misfortune not to think perfectly beautiful. Vexed that he should dare to differ from her in taste, Lady Augusta could not rest without endeavouring to make him give up his opinion: he thought that it was not worth while to dispute about a trifle; and though he could not absolutely say that it was pretty, he condescended so far as to allow that it might perhaps be pretty, if it were put on differently.

"This is the way I always wear it--every body wears it so--and I shall not alter it," said Lady Augusta, who was quite out of temper.

Mr. Mountague looked grave: the want of temper was an evil which he dreaded beyond measure in a companion for life. Smiles and dimples usually adorned Lady Augusta's face; but these were artificial smiles: now pa.s.sions, which one should scarcely imagine such a trifle could excite, darkened her brow, and entirely altered the air of her whole person, so as to make it absolutely disagreeable to her admirer. Lord George, who was standing by, and who felt delighted with such scenes, winked at Dashwood, and, with more energy than he usually expressed upon any subject, now p.r.o.nounced that, in his humble opinion, the turban was quite the thing, and could not be better put on. Lady Augusta turned a triumphant, insulting eye upon Mr. Mountague: he was silent--his silence she took as a token of submission--in fact, it was an expression of contempt. The next day, at dinner, her ladyship appeared in the same turban, put on sedulously in the same manner. Lord George seated himself beside her; and as she observed that he paid her unusual attention, she fancied that at length his icy heart would thaw. Always more intent upon making cages[6], Lady Augusta bent her mind upon captivating a new admirer. Mr. Mountague she saw was displeased, but she now really felt and showed herself indifferent to his opinion. How variable, how wretched, is the life of a coquette! The next day Lord George's heart froze again as hard as ever, and Lady Augusta lightened upon the impa.s.sive ice in vain. She was mortified beyond measure, for her grand object was conquest. That she might triumph over poor Helen, she had taken pains to attract Mr. Mountague. Dashwood, though far beneath her ladyship in fortune and in station, she deemed worth winning, as a man of wit and gallantry. Lord George, to be sure, had little wit, and less gallantry; but he was Lord George, and that was saying enough. In short, Lady Augusta exacted tribute to her vanity without any discrimination, and she valued her treasures by number, and not by weight. A man of sense is mortified to see himself confounded with the stupid and the worthless.

[Footnote 6: Swift]

Mr. Mountague, after having loved like a madman, felt it not in the least inc.u.mbent upon him to love like a fool; he had imprudently declared himself an admirer of Lady Augusta, but he now resolved never to unite himself to her without some more reasonable prospect of happiness. Every day some petty cause of disagreement arose between them, whilst mademoiselle, by her silly and impertinent interference, made matters worse. Mademoiselle had early expressed her strong abhorrence of prudes; her pupil seemed to have caught the same abhorrence; she saw that Mr. Mountague was alarmed by her spirit of coquetry, yet still it continued in full force. For instance, she would continually go out with Lord George in his phaeton, though she declared, every time he handed her in, "that she was certain he would break her neck." She would receive verses from Dashwood, and keep them embalmed in her pocket-book, though she allowed that she thought them "sad stuff."

However, in these verses something more was meant than met the ear. He began with addressing a poem to her ladyship, called The Turban, which her silly mother extolled with eagerness, and seemed to think by no means inferior to the Rape of the Lock. Lady Augusta wrote a few lines in answer to the Turban--reply produced reply--nonsense, nonsense--till Dashwood now and then forgot his poetical character. Lady Augusta forgave it; he, of course, forgot himself again into a lover in prose.

For some time the sonnets were shown to Lady S----, but at length some were received, which it was thought as well not to show to any body. In short, between fancy, flattery, poetry, pa.s.sion, jest, and earnest, Lady Augusta was drawn on till she hardly knew where she was; but Dashwood knew perfectly well where he was, and resolved to keep his ground resolutely.

When encouraged by the lady's coquetry, he first formed his plans; he imagined that a promise of a wedding-present would easily secure her governess: but this was a slight mistake; avarice happened not to be the ruling, or, at least at this time, the reigning pa.s.sion of mademoiselle's mind; and quickly perceiving his error, he paid a.s.siduous court to her vanity. She firmly believed that she had captivated him, and was totally blind to his real designs. The grand difficulty with Dashwood was, not to persuade her of his pa.s.sion, but to prevent her from believing him too soon; and he thought it expedient to delay completing his conquest of the governess till he had gained an equally powerful influence over her pupil. One evening, Dashwood, pa.s.sing through a sheltered walk, heard Lady Augusta and Mr. Mountague talking very loudly and eagerly: they pa.s.sed through the grove so quickly that he could catch only the words "phaeton--imprudence."

"Pshaw! jealousy--nonsense."

"Reasonable woman for a wife."

"Pooh, no such thing."

"My unalterable resolution," were the concluding words of Mr. Mountague, in a calm but decided voice; and, "As you please, sir! I've no notion of giving up my will in every thing," the concluding words of Lady Augusta p.r.o.nounced in a pettish tone, as she broke from him; yet pausing for a moment, Dashwood, to his great surprise and concern, heard her in a softer tone add a _but_, which showed she was not quite willing to break from Mr. Mountague for ever. Dashwood was alarmed beyond measure; but the lady did not long continue in this frame of mind, for, upon going into her dressing-room to rest herself, she found her governess at the gla.s.s.

"_Bon Dieu!_" exclaimed mademoiselle, turning round: "Miladi told me you was gone out--_mais qu'est ce que c'est? vous voila pale_--you are as white--_blanc comme mon linge_," cried she, with emphasis, at the same time touching a handkerchief, which was so far from white, that her pupil could not help bursting out into a laugh at the unfortunate ill.u.s.tration. "_Pauvre pet.i.te! tenez_," continued mademoiselle, running up to her with salts, apprehensive that she was going into fits.

"I am not ill, thank you," said Lady Augusta, taking the smelling bottle.

"But don't tell me dat," said mademoiselle: "I saw you walking out of de window wid dat man, and I know dis is some new _demele_ wid him. Come, _point de secret, mon enfant_. Has not he being giving you one good lecture?"

"Lecture!" said Lady Augusta, rising with becoming spirit: "no, mademoiselle, I am not to be lectured by any body."

"No, to be sure; dat is what I say, and, _surtout_, not by a lover.

_Quel homme!_ why I would not have him to pay his court to me for all de world. Why, _pauvre pet.i.te_, he has made you look ten years older ever since he began to fall in love wid you. Dis what you call a lover in England? _Bon_, why, I know noting of de matter, if he be one bit in love wid you, _mon enfant_."

"Oh, as to that, he certainly is in love with me: whatever other faults he has, I must do him that justice."

"_Justice!_ Oh, let him have justice, _de tout mon caeur_; but I say, if he be a man in love, he is de oddest man in love I ever happen to see; he eat, drink, sleep, talk, laugh, _se possede tout comme un autre.

Bon Dieu!_ I would not give noting at all _myself_ for such a sort of a lover. _Mon enfant_, dis is not de way I would wish to see you loved; dis is not de way no man ought for to dare for to love you."

"And how ought I to be loved?" asked Lady Augusta, impatiently.

"_La belle question!_ Eh! don't every body, de stupidest person in de world, know how dey ought to be love? _Mais pa.s.sionnement, eperdument_--dere is a--a _je ne sais quoi_ dat infailliblement distinguish de true lover from de false."

"Then," said Lady Augusta, "you really don't think that Mr. Mountague loves me?"

"Tink!" replied mademoiselle, "I don't tink about it; but have not I said enough? Open your eyes; make your own _comparaisons_."

Before Lady Augusta had made her comparisons, a knock at the door from her maid came to let her know that Lord George was waiting.

"Ah! milord George! I won't keep you den: _va t'en_."

"But now, do you know, it was only because I just said that I was going out with Lord George that Mr. Mountague made all this rout."

"Den let him make his rout; _qu'importe? Miladi votre chere mere_ make no objections. _Quelle impertinence!_ If he was milord duc he could not give himself no more airs. _Va, man enfant_--Dis a lover! _Quel homme, quel tyran!_ and den, of course, when he grows to be a husband, he will be worserer and worserer, and badderer and badderer, when he grows to be your husband."

"Oh," cried Lady Augusta, s.n.a.t.c.hing up her gloves hastily, "my husband he shall never be, I am determined. So now I'll give him his _coup de grace_."

"_Bon!_" said mademoiselle, following her pupil, "and I must not miss to be by, for I shall love to see dat man mortify."

"You _are_ going then?" said Mr. Mountague, gravely, as she pa.s.sed.

"Going, going, going, gone!" cried Lady Augusta, who, tripping carelessly by, gave her hand to the sulky lord; then springing into the phaeton, said as usual--"I know, my lord, you'll break my neck;" at the same time casting a look at Mr. Mountague, which seemed to say--"I hope you'll break _your heart_, at least."

When she returned from her airing, the first glance at Mr. Mountague's countenance convinced her that her power was at an end. She was not the only person who observed this. Dashwood, under his air of thoughtless gaiety, watched all that pa.s.sed with the utmost vigilance, and he knew how to avail himself of every circ.u.mstance that could be turned to his own advantage. He well knew that a lady's ear is never so happily prepared for the voice of flattery as after having been forced to hear that of sincerity. Dashwood contrived to meet Lady Augusta, just after she had been mortified by her late admirer's total recovery of his liberty, and, seizing well his moment, pressed his suit with gallant ardour. As he exhibited all those signs of pa.s.sion which her governess would have deemed unequivocal, the young lady thought herself justified in not absolutely driving him to despair.

Where was Lady S---- all this time! Where?--at the card-table, playing very judiciously at whist. With an indolent security, which will be thought incredible by those who have not seen similar instances of folly in great families, she let every thing pa.s.s before her eyes without seeing it. Confident that her daughter, after having gone through the usual routine, would meet with some suitable establishment, that the settlements would then be the father's business, the choice of the jewels hers, she left her dear Augusta, in the meantime, to conduct herself; or, what was ten times worse, to be conducted by Mlle. Panache.

Thus to the habitual indolence, or temporary convenience of parents, are the peace and reputation of a family secretly sacrificed. And we may observe, that those who take the least precaution to prevent imprudence in their children are most enraged and implacable when the evil becomes irremediable.

In losing Mr. Mountague's heart, Lady Augusta's vanity felt a double pang, from the apprehension that Helen would probably recover her captive. Acting merely from the impulse of the moment, her ladyship was perfectly a child in her conduct; she seldom knew her own mind two hours together, and really did not foresee the consequences of any one of her actions. Half a dozen incompatible wishes filled her heart, or, rather, her imagination. The most immediate object of vanity had always the greatest power over her; and upon this habit of mind Dashwood calculated with security.

In the pride of conquest, her ladyship had rejoiced at her mother's inviting Mrs. Temple and her daughters to an entertainment at S---- Hall, where she flattered herself that Mr. Mountague would appear as her declared admirer. The day, alas! came; but things had taken a new turn, and Lady Augusta was as impatient that the visit should be finished, as she had been eager to have the invitation sent. Lady S---- was not precisely informed of all that was going on in her own house, as we have observed; and she was, therefore, a little surprised at the look of vexation with which her daughter heard that she had pressed Mrs. Temple to stay all night. "My dear," said Lady S----, "you know you can sleep in mademoiselle's room for this one night, and Miss Helen Temple will have yours. One should be civil to people, especially when one sees them but seldom." Lady Augusta was much out of humour with her mother's ill-timed civility; but there was no remedy. In the hurry of moving her things at night, Lady Augusta left in her dressing table drawer a letter of Dashwood's--a letter which she would not have had seen by Miss Helen Temple for any consideration. Our readers may imagine what her ladyship's consternation must have been, when, the next morning, Helen put the letter into her hand, saying, "There's a paper you left in your dressing-table, Lady Augusta." The ingenuous countenance of Helen, as she spoke, might have convinced any one but Lady Augusta that she was incapable of having opened this paper; but her ladyship judged otherwise: she had no doubt that every syllable of the letter had been seen, and that her secret would quickly be divulged. The company had not yet a.s.sembled at breakfast. She retired precipitately to her own room, to consider what could possibly be done in this emergency. She at length resolved to apply to Mr. Mountague for a.s.sistance; for she had seen enough of him to feel a.s.sured that he was a man of honour, and that she might safely trust him. When she heard him go down stairs to breakfast, she followed, and contrived to give him a note, which he read with no small degree of surprise.

"How to apologize for myself I know not, nor have I one moment's time to deliberate. Believe me, I feel my sensibility and delicacy severely wounded; but an ill-fated, uncontrollable pa.s.sion must plead my excuse.

I candidly own that my conduct must appear to you in a strange light; but spare me, I beseech you, all reproaches, and pardon my weakness, for on your generosity and honour must I rely, in this moment of distress.

"A letter of mine--a fatal letter from Dashwood--has fallen into the hands of Miss Helen Temple. All that I hold most dear is at her mercy. I am fully persuaded that, were she to promise to keep my secret, nothing on earth would tempt her to betray me; but I know she has so much the habit of speaking of every thing to her mother, that I am in torture till this promise is obtained. Your influence I must depend upon. Speak to her, I conjure you, the moment breakfast is over; and a.s.sure yourself of my unalterable grat.i.tude.

"AUGUSTA ----."

The moment breakfast was over, Mr. Mountague followed Helen into the library; a portfolio, full of prints, lay open on the table, and as he turned them over, he stopped at a print of Alexander putting his seal to the lips of Hephaestion, whom he detected reading a letter over his shoulder. Helen, as he looked at the print, said she admired the delicacy of Alexander's reproof to his friend; but observed, that it was scarcely probable the seal should bind Hephsestion's lips.