"How barbarous!" said Lady Davenant, "but let it pa.s.s, I am neither glad nor sorry; contempt is more dignified and safer than hatred, my dear.

"Now to return to Cecilia; soon after, I will not say the D'Aubigny era, but soon after you left us, I fell sick, Cecilia was excessively kind to me. In kindness her affectionate heart never failed, and I felt this the more, from a consciousness that I had been a little harsh to her. I recovered but slowly; I could not bear to have her confined so long in a sick room, and yet I did not much like either of the chaperons with whom she went out, though they were both of rank, and of unimpeachable character--the one English, one of the best women in the world, but the most stupid; the other a foreigner, one of the most agreeable women in the world, but the most false. I prevailed on Cecilia to break off that--I do not know what to call it, friendship it was not, and my daughter and I drew nearer together. Better times began to dawn, but still there was little sympathy between us; my mind was intent on Lord Davenant's interests, hers on amus.e.m.e.nt and admiration. Her conquests were numerous, and she gloried in their number, for, between you and me, Cecilia was, before the reformation, not a little of a coquette. You will not allow it, you did not see it, you did not go out with her, and being three or four years younger, you could not be a very good critic of Cecilia's conduct; and depend upon it I am right, she was not a little of a coquette. She did not know, and I am sure I did not know, that she had a heart, till she became acquainted with General Clarendon.

"The first time we met him,"--observing a quickening of attention in Helen's eyes, Lady Davenant smiled, and said, "Young ladies always like to hear of 'the first time we saw him.'--The first time we saw General Clarendon was--forgive me the day of the month--in the gallery at Florence. I forget how it happened that he had not been presented to me--to Lord Davenant he must have been. But so it was and it was new to Cecilia to see a man of his appearance who had not on his first arrival shown himself ambitious to be made known to her. He was admiring a beautiful Magdalene, and he was standing with his back towards us. I recollect that his appearance when I saw him as a stranger--the time when one can best judge of appearance--struck me as that of a distinguished person; but little did I think that there stood Cecilia's husband! so little did my maternal instinct guide me.

"As we approached, he turned and gave one look at Cecilia; she gave one look at him. He pa.s.sed on, she stopped me to examine the picture which he had been admiring.

"Every English mother at Florence, except myself, had their eyes fixed upon General Clarendon from the moment of his arrival. But whatever I may have been, or may have been supposed to be, on the great squares of politics, I believe I never have been accused or even suspected of being a manoeuvrer on the small domestic scale.

"My reputation for imbecility in these matters was perhaps advantageous.

He did not shun me as he did the tribe of knowing ones; a hundred reports flew about concerning him, settling in one, that he was resolved never to marry. Yet he was a pa.s.sionate admirer of beauty and grace, and it was said that he had never been unsuccessful where he had wished to please. The secret of his resolution against marriage was accounted for by the gossiping public in many ways variously absurd. The fact was, that in his own family, and in that of a particular friend, there had been about this time two or three scandalous intrigues, followed by 'the public brand of shameful life.' One of these 'sad affairs,' as they are styled, was marked with premeditated treachery and turpitude. The lady had been, or had seemed to be, for years a pattern wife, the mother of several children; yet she had long betrayed, and at last abandoned, a most amiable and confiding husband, and went off with a man who did not love her, who cared for nought but himself, a disgusting monster of selfishness, vanity, and vice! This woman was said to have been once good, but to have been corrupted and depraved by residence abroad--by the contagion of foreign profligacy. In the other instance, the seduced wife had been originally most amiable, pure-minded, uncommonly beautiful, loved to idolatry by her husband, Clarendon's particular friend, a man high in public estimation. The husband shot himself. The seducer was, it's said, the lady's first love. That these circ.u.mstances should have made a deep impression on Clarendon, is natural; the more feeling--the stronger the mind, the more deep and lasting it was likely to be. Besides his resolution against marriage in general, we heard that he had specially resolved against marrying any travelled lady, and most especially against any woman with whom there was danger of a first love.

How this danger was to be avoided or ascertained, mothers and daughters looked at one another, and did not ask, or at least did not answer.

"Cecilia, apparently unconcerned, heard and laughed at these high resolves, after her gay fashion with her young companions, and marvelled how long the resolution would be kept. General Clarendon of course could not but be introduced to us, could not but attend our a.s.semblies, nor could he avoid meeting us in all the good English and foreign society at Florence; but whenever he met us, he always kept at a safe distance: this caution marked his sense of danger. To avoid its being so construed, perhaps, he made approaches to me, politely cold; we talked very wisely on the state of the Continent and the affairs of Europe; I did not, however, confine myself or him to politics, I gave him many unconscious opportunities of showing in conversation, not his abilities, for they are nothing extraordinary; but his character, which is first-rate. Gleams came out, of a character born to subjugate, to captivate, to attach for life. It worked first on Cecilia's curiosity; she thought she was only curious, and she listened at first, humming an opera air between times, with the least concerned look conceivable. But, her imagination was caught, and it thenceforward through every thing that every body else might be saying, and through all she said herself, she heard every word that fell from our general, and even all that was repeated of his saying at second or third hand. So she learned in due season that he had seen women as handsome, handsomer than Lady Cecilia Davenant; but that there was something in her manner peculiarly suited to his taste--his fastidious taste! so free from coquetry, he said she was. And true, perfectly true, from the time he became acquainted with her; no hypocrisy on her part, no mistake on his; at the first touch of a real love, there was an end of vanity and coquetry. Then her deference--her affection for her mother, was so charming, he thought; such perfect confidence--such quick intelligence between us. No deceit here either, only a little self-deception on Cecilia's part. She had really grown suddenly fonder of me; what had become of her fear, she did not know. But I knew full well my new charm and my real merit; I was a good and safe conductor of the electric shock.

"It chanced one day, when I was listening only as one listens to a man who is talking at another through oneself, I did not immediately catch the meaning, or I believe hear what the general said. Cecilia, unawares, answered for me, and showed that she perfectly understood:--he bowed--she blushed.

"Man is usually quicksighted to woman's blushes. But our general was not vain, only proud; the blush he did not set down to his own account, but very much to hers. It was a proof, he thought, of so much simplicity of heart, so unspoiled by the world, so unlike--in short, so like the very woman he had painted in his fancy, before he knew too much----. Lady Cecilia was now a perfect angel. Not one word of all this did he say, but it was understood quite as well as if it had been spoken: his lips were firm compressed, and the whole outer man composed--frigidly cold;--yet through all this Cecilia saw--such is woman's penetration in certain cases--Cecilia saw what must sooner or later happen. He, still proud of his prudence, refrained from word, look, or sigh, resolved to be impa.s.sive till his judgment should be perfectly satisfied. At last this judgment was perfectly satisfied; that is, he was pa.s.sionately in love--fairly 'caught,' my dear, 'in the strong toils of grace,' and he threw himself at Cecilia's feet. She was not quite so much surprised as he expected, but more pleased than he had ventured to hope. There was that, however, in his proud humility, which told Cecilia there must be no trifling.

'He either fears his fate too much, Or his deserts are small, Who fears to put it to the touch, To win or lose it all.'

"He put it to the test, and won it all. General Clarendon, indeed, is a man likely to win and keep the love of woman, for this, among other good reasons, that love and honour being with him inseparable, the idol he adores must keep herself at the height to which he has raised her, or cease to receive his adoration. She must be no common vulgar idol for every pa.s.sing worshipper." As Lady Davenant paused, Helen looked up, hesitated, and said: "I hope that General Clarendon is not disposed to jealousy."

"No: he's too proud to be jealous," replied Lady Davenant.

Are proud men never jealous? thought Helen.

"I mean," continued Lady Davenant, "that General Clarendon is too proud to be jealous of his wife. For aught I know, he might have felt jealousy of Cecilia before she was his, for then she was but a woman, like another; but once HIS--once having set his judgment on the cast, both the virtues and the defects of his character join in security for his perfect confidence in the wife 'his choice and pa.s.sion both approve.'

From temper and principle he is unchangeable. I acknowledge that I think the general is a little inclined perhaps to obstinacy; but, as Burke says, though obstinacy is certainly a vice, it happens that the whole line of the great and masculine virtues, constancy, fidelity, fort.i.tude, magnanimity, are closely allied to this disagreeable quality, of which we have so just an abhorrence.

"It is most peculiarly happy for Cecilia that she has a husband of this firm character, one on whom she can rely--one to whom she may, she must, look up, if not always, yet upon all important occasions where decision is necessary, or integrity required. It is between her and her general as it should be in marriage, each has the compensating qualities to those which the other possesses: General Clarendon is inferior to Cecilia in wit, but superior in judgment; inferior in literature, superior in knowledge of the world; inferior to my daughter altogether in abilities, in what is called genius, but far superior in that ruling power, _strength of mind_. Strength of mind is an attaching as well as a ruling power: all human creatures, women especially, become attached to those who have power over their minds. Yes, Helen, I am satisfied with their marriage, and with your congratulations: yours are the sort I like. Vulgar people--by vulgar people I mean all who think vulgarly--very great vulgar people have congratulated me upon this establishment of my daughter's fortune and future rank (a dukedom in view), all that could be wished in worldly estimation. But I rejoice in it as the security for my daughter's character and happiness. Thank you again, my dear young friend, for your sympathy; you can understand me, you can feel with me."

Sympathy, intelligent, quick, warm, unwearied, unweariable, such as Helen's, is really a charming accomplishment in a friend; the only obligation a proud person, is never too proud to receive; and it was most gratifying to Helen to be allowed to sympathise with Lady Davenant--one who, in general, never spoke of herself, or unveiled her private feelings, even to those who lived with her on terms of intimacy.

Helen felt responsible for the confidence granted to her thus upon credit, and a strong ambition was excited in her mind to justify the high opinion her superior friend had formed of her. She determined to become all that she was believed to be; as the flame of a taper suddenly rises towards what is held over it, her spirit mounted to the point to which her friend pointed.

CHAPTER V.

Helen's perfect happiness at Clarendon Park was not of long duration.

People who have not been by nature blessed or cursed with nice feelings, or who have well rubbed off their delicacy in roughing through the world, can be quite happy, or at least happy enough without ascertaining whether they are really esteemed or liked by those with whom they live.

Many, and some of high degree, when well sheltered and fed, and provided with all the necessaries, and surrounded by all the luxuries of life, and with appearances tolerably well kept up by outward manner, care little or nought about the inside sentiments.

But Helen was neither of the case-hardened philosophic, or the naturally obtuse-feeling cla.s.s; she belonged to the over-anxious. Surrounded at Clarendon Park with all the splendour of life, and with the immediate expectation of seeing and being seen by the first society in England; with the certainty also of being tenderly loved and highly esteemed by two of the persons she was living with, yet a doubt about the third began to make her miserable. Whether General Clarendon really liked her or not, was a question that hung upon her mind sometimes as a dead weight--then vibrating backwards and forwards, she often called to mind, and endeavoured to believe, what Cecilia the first day told her, that this reserved manner was natural to him with strangers, and would wear off. But to her the icy coldness did not thaw. So she felt, or so she fancied, and which it was she could not decide. She had never before lived with any one about whose liking for her she could doubt, therefore, as she said to herself, "I know I am a bad judge." She feared to open her mind to Cecilia. Lady Davenant would be the safest person to consult; yet Helen, with all her young delicacy fresh about her, scrupled, and could not screw her courage to the sticking-place. Every morning going to Lady Davenant's room, she half resolved and yet came away without speaking. At last, one morning, she began:--

"You said something the other day, my dear Lady Davenant, about a visit from Miss Clarendon. Perhaps--I am afraid--in short I think,--I fear, the general does not like my being here; and I thought, perhaps, he was displeased at his sister's not being here,--that he thought Cecilia's having asked me prevented his sister's coming; but then you told me he was not of a jealous temper, did not you?"

"_Distinguez_," said Lady Davenant; "_distinguons_, as the old French metaphysicians used to say, _distinguons_, there be various kinds of jealousy, as of love. The old romancers make a distinction between _amour_ and _amour par amours_. Whatever that mean, I beg leave to take a distinction full as intelligible, I trust, between _jalousie par amour_ and _jalousie par amitie_. Now, to apply; when I told you that our general was not subject to jealousy, I should have distinguished, and said, _jalousie par amour_--jealousy in love, but I will not ensure him against _jalousie par amitie_--jealousy in friendship--of friends and relations, I mean. Me-thinks I have seen symptoms of this in the general, he does not like my influence over Cecilia, nor yours, my dear."

"I understand it all," exclaimed Helen, "and I was right from the very first; I saw he disliked me, and he ever will and must dislike and detest me--I see it in every look, hear it in every word, in every tone."

"Now, my dear Helen, if you are riding off on your imagination, I wish you a pleasant ride, and till you come back again I will write my letter," said Lady Davenant, taking up a pen.

Helen begged pardon, and protested she was not going to ride off upon any imagination,--she had no imagination now--she entreated Lady Davenant to go on, for she was very anxious to know the whole truth, whatever it might be. Lady Davenant laid down her pen, and told her all she knew. In the first place, that Cecilia did not like Miss Clarendon, who, though a very estimable person, had a sort of uncompromising sincerity, joined with a _brusquerie_ of manner which Cecilia could not endure. How her daughter had managed matters to refuse the sister without offending the brother, Lady Davenant said she did not know; that was Cecilia's secret, and probably it lay in her own charming manner of doing things, aided by the whole affair having occurred a few days before marriage, when nothing could be taken ill of the bride elect.

"The general, as Cecilia told me, desired that she would write to invite you, Helen; she did so, and I am very glad of it. This is all I know of this mighty matter."

But Helen could not endure the idea of being there, contrary to the general's wishes, in the place of the sister he loved. Oh, how very, very unfortunate she was to have all her hopes blighted, destroyed--and Cecilia's kindness all in vain. Dear, dear Cecilia!--but for the whole world Helen would not be so selfish--she would not run the hazard of making mischief. She would never use her influence over Cecilia in opposition to the general. Oh, how little he knew of her character, if he thought it possible.

Helen had now come to tears. Then the keen sense of injustice turned to indignation; and the tears wiped away, and pride prevailing, colouring she exclaimed, "That she knew what she ought to do, she knew what she would do--she would not stay where the master of the house did not wish for her. Orphan though she was, she could not accept of protection or obligation from any human being who neither liked or esteemed her. She would shorten her visit at Clarendon Park--make it as short as his heart could desire,--she would never be the cause of any disagreement--poor, dear, kind Cecilia! She would write directly to Mrs. Collingwood." At the close of these last incoherent sentences, Helen was awe-struck by the absolute composed immovability and silence of Lady Davenant. Helen stood rebuked before her.

"Instead of writing to Mrs. Collingwood, had not you better go at once?" said her ladyship, speaking in a voice so calm, and in a tone so slightly ironical, that it might have pa.s.sed for earnest on any but an acutely feeling ear--"Shall I ring, and order your carriage?"

putting her hand on the bell as she spoke, and resting it there, she continued--"It would be so spirited to be off instantly; so wise, so polite, so considerate towards _dear_ Cecilia--so dignified towards the general, and so kind towards me, who am going to a far country, Helen, and may perhaps not see you ever again."

"Forgive me!" cried Helen; "I never could go while you were here."

"I did not know what you might think proper when you seemed to have lost your senses."

"I have recovered them," said Helen; "I will do whatever you please--whatever you think best."

"It must not be what I please, my dear child, nor what I think best, but what you judge for yourself to be best; else what will become of you when I am in Russia? It must be some higher and more stable principle of action that must govern you. It must not be the mere wish to please this or that friend;--the defect of your character, Helen, remember I tell you, is this--inordinate desire to be loved, this impatience of not being loved--that which but a moment ago made you ready to abandon two of the best friends you have upon earth, because you imagine, or you suspect, or you fear, that a third person, almost a stranger, does not like before he has had time to know you."

"I was very foolish," said Helen; "but now I will be wise, I will do whatever is--right. Surely you would not have me live here if I were convinced that the master of the house did not wish it?"

"Certainly not--certainly not," repeated Lady Davenant; "but let us see our way before us; never gallop, my dear, much less leap; never move, till you see your way;--once it is ascertained that General Clarendon does not wish you to be here, nor approve of you for the chosen companion of his wife, I, as your best friend, would say, begone, and speed you on your way; then as much pride, as much spirit as you will; but those who are conscious of possessing real spirit, should never be--seldom are--in a hurry to show it; that kind of ostentatious haste is undignified in man, and ungraceful in woman."

Helen promised that she would be patience itself: "But tell me exactly,"

said she, "what you would have me do."

"Nothing," said Lady Davenant.

"Nothing! that is easy at least," said Helen, smiling.

"No, not so easy as you imagine; it requires sometimes no small share of strength of mind."

"Strength of mind!" said Helen, "I am afraid I have not any."

"Acquire it then, my dear," said her friend.

"But can I?"

"Certainly; strength of mind, like strength of body, is improved by exercise."

"If I had any to begin with--" said Helen.

"You have some, Helen, a great deal in one particular, else why should I have any more regard for you, or more hope of you, than of any other well-dressed, well-taught beauty, any of the tribe of young ladies who pa.s.s before me without ever fixing my mind's eye for one moment?"

"But in what particular, my dear Lady Davenant, do you mean?" said Helen, anxiously; "I am afraid you are mistaken; in what do you think I ever showed strength of mind? Tell me, and I will tell you the truth."