LADY BLESSINGTON S
u
CONFESSIONS
ELDERLY
L AD Y
AND
GENTLEMAN
IN TWO VOLUMES,
VOL. I.
PHILADELPHIA:
CAREY, LEA & BLANCHARD.
1838.
*
THE
CONFESSIONS
ELDERLY LADY
BY
THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON.
PHILADELPHIA:
CAREY, LEA & BLANCHARD.
1838.
Philadelphia:
K. & P. G. COLLINS, PrintefS,
No. 1 Lodge Alley.
THE CONFESSIONS
ifoa
V-
ELDERLY LADY.
How interminably long the days are! Though
broken by repasts, visits, airings, and reading,
still they creep on with leaden feet. Heigh-ho!
It was not thus in the days of my youth. Then
the hours seemed to have wings, and flew away
so rapidly, that I often wished to retard their
flight But every thing is changed! The very
seasons are no longer the same; and their pro
ductions bear no more comparison with those
that I remember, than what shall I say?
than the young persons, misnamed beauties, in
these degenerate days, do, with the lovely w r omen
who were my contemporaries. Yes, the flowers
have lost their fragrance, the fruit its flavor,
and the vegetables taste as if created by some
chemical process. The newspapers, too, par
take the general change; and are, for the most
part, filled with the movements of stupid lords and
silly ladies; or the speeches of some demagogue
placarded into notice, by the praise of one party
and abuse of another. Parliamentary debates,
instead of displaying the magniloquent march of
VOL. 1. 2
THE CONFESSIONS OF
:\#or$s/.fhat/ were wont to charm my
youthful earsj rendering ear-h speech worthy of
a place in that excellent work, entitled " Enfiel i s
Speaker," are now reduced to colloquies, quite
as familiar as if the debaters were seated round
their tables, after dinner, and had only their
convivial guests, and not the nation, as audience.
To be sure, people did assert that Dr. Johnson
wrote the reported speeches, but so much the
better, say I: for they will stand as honorable
records of the abilities of my contemporaries,
when the world no longer remembers the rumor
of their Johnsonian parentage, and will form an
admirable contrast to the inflated common places,
or flimsy theories of the present time.
I have but one consolation for the degeneracy
of the age, and that consists in the conviction
that few records of it will descend to posterity.
People seem to lose all respect for the past;
events succeed each other with such velocity
that the most remarkable one of a few years
gone by, is no more remembered than if centuries
had closed over it. The present race seem to
think only of the actual minute. They are pro
digals, who give no thought to their predecessors,
and no care to their successors. People were
not thus heartless in my youthful days but
every thing is changed!
The magazines, too, how they are fallen off !
No longer do two interesting looking heads,
ycleped " A tete-a-teie," or "The fair deceiver
and the enamoured Philander," meet the gaze,
initiating one into some recent mor$eau of amu
sing scandal. No the portrait of some would-be-
beauty, or modern author, stares one in the face;
endeavoring to look handsome, or clever, with
all her, or his, might; but as it is not often that
artists succeed in bestowing either of these ex-
AN ELDERLY LADY. 15
pressions on their subjects, they are, frequently,
as unkindly treated by art, as by nature.
Then the matter of these magazines how in
finitely inferior are they to those of my youth!
Pretentious philosophical disquisitions on recent
discoveries in science sketchy tales, with sha
dowy personages crude reviews on as crude lite
rary productions poems guiltless of thought
and a rechauffee of the events of the past month;
insipid as r&ctiauff&ex generally are.
The editors of the ephemeral productions to
which 1 allude, ambitious to contain in their
pages some attractive article, and knowing the
craving appetites of their readers for personali
ties, dress up a forgotten anecdote, or obsolete
scandal, with the sauce piquant of inuendoes
and exaggerations; or else with tales professing
to treat of fashionable life, with characters that
bear no more resemblance to living ones than do
the figures on which milliners and tailors display
their garments for sale. But their conclusions
satisfy the crowd, who, unable to penetrate the
sanctuaries of aristocratic life, cannot judge of the
coarseness and want of truth of the pretended
representations.
The study of history, I carefully eschew
for moderm historians are all would-be-philoso
phers; who, instead of relating facts as they
occurred, give us their version, or rather per
versions of them, always colored by their
political prejudices, or distorted to establish
some theory, and rendered obscure by cumbrous
attempts to trace effect from cause. They tell
us not only what potentates, heroes, and states
men said, or are imagined to have said, but also,
not unfrequently, favor us with what they
thought; though they do not quite satisfy us as
to the authenticity of the sources whence they
16 THE CONFESSIONS OP
derived their information. Poetry I have heen
compelled to abandon, ever since Byron de
moralised the public taste, by substituting passion
for sentiment; and originated a herd of servile
imitators of all his defects, but who possess not
one ray of tl\e genius that redeemed them.
Dryden, Waller, Pope, were the poets read
in my youth. Their lofty thoughts came to
us in as lofty diction, like the beauties of that
day, attired in their court dresses. Novels
were then an agreeable resource. Sir Charles
Grandison, Clarissa Harlowe how often have
I dwelt on your pages, my sympathy excited,
and my reason satisfied. Yes Richardson s
heroines were not only women, but, with the
exception of Pamela, they were gentlewomen, a
class that seems now to have passed away from
our modern novels, as wholly as they have from
society: a genus ycleped " ladies" being substi
tuted, which no more resembles their dignified
progenitors, than the flimsy draperies of the
modern originals of these meretricious shadows,
do the substantial velvets and brocades in which
my stately contemporaries were attired.
Times are indeed sadly changed ! Fashion,
a nondescript which, like Milton s allegorical
personification of death, has no definite shape,
has now usurped the place of decorum; and,
like death, levels all distinctions. This same
fashion is a monstrous growth of these degenerate
days, which, like the idol of Juggernaut, often
crushes those who prostrate themselves before
her revolving wheel. It is the sworn foe to all
that is good and respectable; and encourages
only the parvenues which spring up beneath its
unwholesome shade, as does the fungus beneath
that of some tree, whose deleterious moisture
gives it birth.
AN ELDERLY LADY. 17
Well 7, at least, have not bowed down and
worshipped this colossal idol. I have not left
the resilience of my ancestors, because fashion
had proscribed its precincts, to become the neigh
bor of some returned nabob, or retired bill-
broker, with no recommendation, save his ill-
acquired wealth. I have not dismantled my
mansion of its cumbrous, but richly carved
furniture, to adopt, at a later period, a com
position in intimation of it. No I saw the rage
for Grecian and Roman decoration pass by, as
calmly as 1 have since seen them replaced by
the angular ameuble.mtnt of the melo-dramatic
Emperor of the French; and have lived to witness
the solid magnificence of the fourteenth Louis,
revived by those who are as incapable of com
prehending, as of emulating the splendor and
abilities of that dignified model for kings. I
smile at beholding the ill-executed imitations in
the mansions of my acquaintance, of the costly
furniture which, from mine, has never been
displaced; while they would gladly purchase
back their ancestral possessions from the brokers
who have collected them to sell again at more
than thrice their original cost.
Yes, it is very satisfactory to my feelings to
witness the restoration of true taste in furniture,
at least; almost as much so as it was to see Louis
XV 111 restored to the throne of his forefathers,
whence his less fortunate brother has been
exiled. We have fallen upon evil days; " the
march of intellect," as they call it, has been in
my opinion a triumphal march over the pro-
strat"d privileges of sovereigns, who dare no
longer consider their subjects as their unalienable
property, nor govern by the good old monar
chical principle of " Je veux."
This is a melancholy and an unnatural state
2*
18 THE CONFESSIONS OF
of things; but I console myself with thinking
that it cannot last, though, alas! it bids fair to
endure my time; conseo^ently, 1 am somewhat
disposed to adopt the philosophy of the fifteenth
Louis, and exclaim " Jlpres nous le deluge."
I wish I had children, for I should in that
case, have had now around me a third genera
tion of scions from the parent stem, who might
have loved me, and whom I might have loved;
at all events, over whose destinies my fortune
would have given me an influence, and next to
loving, and being loved, is the pleasure of gov
erning. But this wearisome, solitude, imposed
by age and infirmities, and uncheered by fond
faces, or affectionate voices, it is hard to bear.
Nature has implanted in every breast the yearning
desire to be an object of sympathy and affection
to its fellow. The young feel it, but they feel
too, the glad consciousness of possessing the
power to excite, and repay the sentiment; while
the old are too well aware how unlovely is age,
not to distrust the appearance of an attachment,
they fear they are incapable of creating. They
become suspicious and peevish from this humi
liating self-knowledge, and consequently less
worthy of the affection for which they yearn.
Every one now writes, and the occupation may
serve to amuse me, even though the fruits fail to
amuse others; and thus 1 who love to live in the
past, may borrow from it the means of rendering
the present less insupportable. Shall 1 then
take courage, make my confessions to the public,
and trust to it for absolution? It is an indul
gent monster after all, which swallows much
that is bad. Why, therefore, should I fear it?
But who xvill read the confessions of an old
woman? and in an age when every thing old,
except furniture, plate, and wine, is exploded?
AN ELDERLY LADY. 19
N^importe, if those only wrote, who were sure of
being read, we should have fewer authors; and
the shelves of libraries would not groan beneath
the weight of dusty tomes more voluminous than
luminous. Yes, I will write my memoirs.
" Did your ladyship speak?" asked that much
enduring woman, my dame de compagnie, one
of the most uncompanionable of that class of
persons denominated companions. My con
science does sometimes reproach me for sundry
pettish reproofs, and petulant phoos and pshaws,
addressed to this modern Griselda, who "assents
to all I will, or do, or say," with a meekness very
trying to a temper like mine. She, however, is
at least ten years my junior, and will, in all
human probability, live to enjoy the comfortable
provision i have secured her in my will; thinking
perhaps that she has well earned it, by a twenty
years daily and hourly practice of that difficult
virtue Patience.
Yes, 1 will write my confessions and " naught
extenuate, or set down aught in malice." As a
proof of my sincerity, I shall record my dialogue
with my dame de compagnie.
" Mrs. Vincent, ring the bell, if you please
here, that will do; you always ring it as if you
imagined the servants to be deaf."
" I beg your ladyship s pardon, but, if you
will be pleased to recollect, you, this morning,
complained that 1 rang the bell so gently that the
servants never heard the first pull."
"Fray don t ask me to be pleased to recollect;
I never am pleased to recollect such puerile
fiddle faddle. Your memory is so tenacious,
that you can quote every syllable I utter in the
course of a week."
It will be perceived by the malicious reader,
that in my petulance I was unconsciously com-
20 THE CONFESSIONS OP
prising my own conversation within the con
temptuous epithet of fiddle faddle. But whether
my unhappy companion was equally acute, I
cannot determine; for she was far too well dis
ciplined to allow any indication of discovery to
be perceptible.
66 Why don t you ring the bell again? you see
no one has answered.
Enter John,
" And so, John, here has Mrs. Vincent been
ringing this last half hour. It really is too pro
voking that none of you will answer the bell."
* Very sorry, indeed, your ladyship; but I
only heard the bell once."
" There, you are convinced, Mrs. Vincent; I
always tell you, that you do not ring sufficiently
loud; I wish you would remember this another
time. Let me consider, what did I want. What
did I require, Mrs. Vincent?"
" Indeed, madam, I do not know; your lady
ship did not inform me."
" There it is, you never remember what I
want; it really is enough to vex a saint."
" I m sure, madam, 1 am very sorry."
" So you always say, I hear nothing but <I
beg your pardon, and I am very sorry, all day
long. Place the easy chair with an extra pillow
before my writing-desk, wheel the desk close to
the window, and put a tabouret for my feet.
There, that will do. See that the pens are good,
the ink not too thick, and lay a quire of foolscap
wove paper on the desk; not that abominable
glazed paper which dazzles my eyes. I intend
to write, Mrs. Vincent, yes, to write a good deal,
unless it should fatigue me; so wipe my specta
cles. You had better remain in the room, to see
that the fire does not go out. You can read, if
you like it; but mind you do not make a noise in
AN ELDERLY LADY. 21
turning over the leaves, you know you have a
trick of doing so. And remember, too, you do
not make that disagreeable sound to which you
are much addicted, a sort of clearing of the tra
chea, which is extremely trying to my nerves.
There again, Mrs. Vincent, have I not told you
a thousand times not to give way to that offensive
habit, of sighing. I cannot bear it."
" I beg your ladyship s pardon, 1 am very
sor "
"Oh! dear Oh! dear, I never can say a word
to you, that you do not forthwith answer me
with I beg your pardon, I am very sorry.
" Indeed, madam"
"Don t say another word, spare my nerves;
you know, or ought to know, that I detest expla
nations."
If my readers are not disgusted with this speci
men of my irritability and egotism, I will proceed
with my task.
My first recollections point to Walsingham
Castle, where my happiest days were passed.
Well do I remember a certain dressing-room in
it that breathed the mingled odors of every
fragrant flower, odors ever since associated in
my mind with the memory of that chamber and
its inmate. Reclined in an easy chair, propped
by pillows, a fragile form draped in muslin of
a snowy whiteness, used to meet my gaze. A
pale but beautiful face, with large lustrous eyes,
whose tender expression is even now remem
bered, used to welcome me with smiles. A soft
delicate hand used to smooth my curls, and draw
me fondly to her heart; and a low sweet voice,
that only uttered words of love, used to greet me.
Never can I forget the warm tears that often
fell on my face and shoulders, when strained in
the convulsive embrace of that lovely being.
22 THE CONFESSIONS OF
" Why does mamma weep when she kisses
me?" demanded I, one day, of the upper nurse.
"You must not ask questions, Lady Arabella,"
was the satisfactory reply: a reply that generally
met all the interrogatories I addressed to the
pragmatical Mrs. Sydenham.
Good Mrs. Mary, as I designated her assistant,
was less taciturn; and to my reiterated demand
of why mamma wept? told me, with a deep sigh
and melancholy shake of the head, that it was
because mamma was going to leave me; and was
sorry.
" But she sha n t go, if she does not like it,"
answered I, with the wilfulness that even then
characterised me; " I won t let her go."
"Poor child," murmured good Mrs. Mary,
and a tear trembled in her eye.
The next time I entered the odorous dressing-
room, mamma appeared to me suffering more
than usual. Papa was sitting by her side, and
held one of her hands in his. She embraced me
fondly, and he took me on his knee. They
looked at me, and then at each other, with an
expression so piteous, that it reminded me of
good Mrs. Mary s explanation of mamma s tears,
and I uttered imploringly, "Do not go away,
dear sweet mam ma, stay with papa, and Arabella."
She burst into a passion of tears, and my
father, too, became greatly agitated.
"Oh! yes," resumed I, "good Mrs. Mary
told me you wept, because you were sorry to go
away."
She sobbed in agony, and caught me to her
breast, and my father pressed us both in his arms.
I saw my mother no more in the fragrant
dressing-room; but was afterwards taken a few
times to her bed-room, whence my father seldom
moved. She looked paler than ever, and her voice
AN ELDERLY LADY. 23
was so low, that it could only whisper; still it ut
tered fond words, and sounded sweetly in my ears.
Every one moved so gently, and spoke so softly
in that room, that my steps only were heard;
the other persons glided about like shadows.
My father looked nearly as pallid as my mother,
and scarcely ever glanced from her; unless when
he turned to conceal the tears, that were conti
nually springing to his eyes.
One day, I was sent for, and found my mother
supported by pillows, and her eyes half closed.
My father had been reading aloud to her; and I
heard her murmur, " Thy will, not mine be done,
Lord!"
He took me in his arms, and held me to her.
She pressed me faintly, but fondly; a few burning
tears fell on my face, and she pronounced, in
accents broken by the approach of death, a mo
ther s last blessing. 1, too, wept, though, alas! I
knew not then what bitter cause I had for tears;
and when my father offered to withdraw me from
her fond embrace, I clung passionately to her.
At this moment, the clergyman was announced:
she relaxed her hold of me, and I was taken from
the chamber violently sobbing.
I remember, that when I reached the door, I
looked back, and caught her tearful eyes strained
to see me to the last. What agony was then in
their expression!
I never saw my mother again, for she died in
two hours after I was torn from her. To this
early bereavement of the truest, tenderest friend
that" youth can ever know, 1 attribute all the
errors of my life.
The next day, and the following one, I asked
repeatedly to be taken to mamma. Mrs. Syden-
ham looked grave, said it could not be; and good
Mistress Mary wept, and, though always affec-
24 THE CONFESSIONS OP
tionate to me, appeared still more so, notwith
standing that Mrs. Sydenham more than once
reprimanded her, and sternly desired her not to
spoil me.
In a week after, I was dressed in black, and
noticed that all the household was similarly clad.
I objected to this change in my dress, and said
that mamma would not like my ugly black frock,
as she was only fond of pretty white ones. This
remark produced a few more tears from good
Mistress Mary, who was again rebuked by Mrs.
Sydenham, for being, as she termed it, always
whimpering. I had an instinctive dislike to the
upper nurse, and a preference to Mary, whose
tears, though I knew not their source, soothed me.
The next day, the sounds of many carriage
wheels, and the champing of steeds, drew me to
the window of my nursery, which overlooked the
court of the castle. 1 clapped my hands in
childish glee, when I saw the cortege decked
with nodding plumes, that moved slowly and
proudly along.
" Where are all these fine carriages going?
asked 1, "and why are so many of them black?"
"They are taking away your mamma," an
swered Mary, as well as her tears and sobs would
allow her.
I, too, began to weep, exclaiming that they
should not take my own dear, sweet mamma
away; but the cortege continued to advance,
until the last nodding plume vanished from my
tearful sight, and I sank on the bosom of good
Mary, exhausted by my sorrow. How silent
w r as the whole castle! Not a sound was heard
save the tolling of the church bell, that came
booming on the ear from the distance, or the
chimes of the great clock, as it marked the flight
of time.
AN ELDERLY LADY. 25
The gloom chilled me, and yet it was in uni
son with my feelings; for, though too young to
comprehend the misfortune that had befallen me,
a mysterious sympathy seemed to render silence
and sorrow congenial to me.
The following day, my father sent for me.
1 found him in the library, so pale and care
worn, that, young as I was, the alteration in his
appearance struck me forcibly. He was clad in
deep mourning, and his eyes indicated that tears
had lately been no strangers to them.
I rushed into his arms and wept as I hid my
face in his bosom, to which I fondly nestled, as I
had been wont to do to the maternal one. He
dismissed the attendant; and as he bent his
head over mine, I felt his tears fall on my hair
and neck, and heard the deep sighs that heaved
his breast.
" You weep, dear papa," said I, "because my
own sweet mamma is gone a way. She, too, wept,
for she was sorry to leave you and me. Do you
remember, papa, how she cried and kissed us
both?"
He clasped me convulsively, called me his last,
his only comfort.
" But won t dear mamma come back to us?"
asked I.
" No, my precious child, never; but we shall
go to her."
"0! I am so glad; I hope, papa, it will be
soon. And shall we too go in that black coach,
with all the nodding feathers? and will the bolls
toll, as when dear mamma went? How glad I
shall be that day; and you, papa, will you not
be glad?"
My poor father sobbed aloud, and I repeatedly
kissed his cheek.
" Look here, my dear Arabella," said he,
VOL. I. 3
26 THE CONFESSIONS OF
opening the miniature case now before me,
" Do you know this lace?"
" Tis my own mamma; my dear, sweet
mamma," answered I. "0 ! let me always have
it to look at."
From this period, I spent a considerable por
tion of every day with my father, who never
failed to show me the cherished miniature, or to
talk to me of its dear and lost original.
A year elapsed before he left the solitude of
Walsingham Castle; during that epoch he made
me comprehend that my mother was dead. How
well I recollect the feeling of awe that crept
through my young heart, as he explained the
nature of this tremendous but inevitable passage
to eternity. Yet, though awed, 1 loved to dwell
on the subject; and death and a union with my
mother, henceforth became an association of ideas
in my mind, that robbed the one of its terrors,
and softened the regret entertained for the other.
My father, never of a robust constitution,
began to show symptoms of confirmed ill health,
in less than a year from the decease of my mother.
So fervent had been his attachment to her, that
time, though it soothed the bitterness of grief,
could not obliterate her image, or console him
for her loss; and I believe, that had he been
childless, he would have hailed death as a release
from an existence which had lost all charm for
him since she had been torn from his arms.
It was solely for my sake that he submitted to a
regime the most abstemious, and to a system of
medical care, which condemned him to the most
monotonous mode of existence imaginable. I was
his constnnt companion; seated on a low tabouret,
by his invalid chair or sofa, I established all my
toys in his library, built card houses on his couch,
accompanied him in all his airings, prattling to
AN ELDERLY LADY. 27
him every thought that passed through my infant
mind, and never leaving him but with sorrow.
A fear that I inherited the malady of my
mother, or his own delicacy of constitution ope
rated continually on his imagination, rendered
morbidly apprehensive, by a degree of sensibility
rarely belonging to the male character, and nur
sed into existence by the loss he had sustained,
and the seclusion in which he lived.
Mrs. Sydenham had been discharged soon
after my mother s death, owing to some symp
toms of dislike displayed towards her by me; and
good Mrs. Mary, in consequence of the partiality
I hadf evinced towards her, was elevated to the
place of upper nurse.
Various and minute were the questions put by
my poor dear father to her, when she brought
me every morning to the library.
" How had I slept had I eat my breakfast
with appetite had I been cheerful?" were in
terrogatories daily made. My countenance was
anxiously examined, and my pulse felt, by the
affectionate and nervous valetudinarian; and a
physician was in regular attendance, to report on
the state of my health.
No wonder, then, that I soon began to dis
cover that I was an object of no little importance
in the house; a discovery almost always danger
ous to the discoverer, whether infant or adult.
Consequently, I speedily displayed some infallible
proofs of my acquired knowledge, by indulging
in sundry caprices and petulancies not peculiarly
agreeable to good Mrs. Mary; and very alarming
to my poor father, when repeated to him, in my
nurse s phraseology, which thus represented my
ebullitions of ill humor: "Lady Arabella had
been a little uneasy all the morning. Her
ladyship had made a good breakfast, it was true,
28 THE CONFESSIONS OF
but she had refused to allow her mouth to be
washed after, which she, good Mrs. Mary, was
afraid was a sign of something feverish in the
habit. Her little ladyship had thrown by all
her dolls in short, she had not been as cheerful
as usual.*
Well did I observe the anxiety this intelli
gence occasioned my too indulgent parent; and
my pride was gratified by it. The bell was rung,
Dr. Warminster, the Halford of his day, sent
for, and all good Mrs. Mary s information, de
tailed to him with scrupulous exactitude. My
pulse was felt, my tongue examined, my eyes
scrutinised; and afler the termination of this
profound investigation, I was pronounced, ex
cathedra, to be in a state of perfect health.
" But, my dear doctor," asked my father,
"how do you account for her uneasiness? Do
you not think it must have proceeded from some
incipient feverish excitement acting on the sys
tem, some nervous derangement eh, my good
doctor?"
" I think, my dear lord/ was the answer,
"that your little girl requires at this period a
governess more than a physician; and advise, by
all means, your lordship s providing her with
one, as soon as a person befitting the situation
can be found."
u A governess, doctor, you surprise me!" re
plied my father; " what can a governess have
to do with the symptoms of uneasiness I have
related?"
"A good one may prevent a repetition of
them, my lord. The truth is, your daughter is
now of an age to stand in need of a more intel
lectual person than Mrs. Mary; one who can
control her temper and direct her pursuits, as
well as attend to her health."
AN ELDERLY LADY. 29
" I assure you, doctor, that her temper is
faultless," said my father; "and with regard to
her pursuits, she is as far advanced as most
children of her age. She can already spell several
words, and is peculiarly intelligent."
" Her intelligence I admit," responded the
doctor, with a peculiar smile, " but her progress
in learning I think not very forward. Why, let
me see, Lady Arabella must be now eight years
old; and 1 do not know a child of that age that
cannot read fluently, and speak two or more
languages."
How attentively 1 listened to this dialogue! and
how cordially did I dislike Doctor Warminster,
who made so light of my acquirements !
My poor father looked distressed, and half
offended; for I believe, that, judging from the
precocious shrewdness of my observations viewed
through the flattering medium of parental affec
tion, he had hitherto considered me a sort of
prodigy. The truth is, that from never having
mingled with other children, and having lived
so continually with my father, my intellectual
faculties had attained a maturity disproportioned
to my age and acquirements. I could think
long before I could read; and now, that for the
first time, I became aware that children of my
age were more advanced in education than my
self, my vanity was cruelly wounded; and 1
determined, with that strong volition that even
then formed a peculiar characteristic of my
nature, to forthwith apply myself to study.
When Doctor Warminster withdrew, I ap
proached my father, and looking in his face,
asked him, in a reproachful tone, why I had not
been taught to read? He appeared embarrassed,
but tenderly embracing me, said that my studies
should forthwith commence.
3*
SO THE CONFESSIONS OF
"What is a governess?" demanded I,
" A lady, my dear," replied my father, " who
undertakes to instruct children in all that it is
necessary that they should know."
"Then let me have a governess directly,
papa; however she must be a nice, pretty go
verness; not an old ugly woman like Mrs.
Sydenham, but one who will teach me to read
very soon, and help me to build card houses on
your sofa."
Never shall I forget the expression of per
plexity which my poor father s countenance
exhibited at this request.
" Why, my child," answered he, "when you
have a governess, you must study your lessons
with her, in another apartment;" and he sighed
deeply as he finished the sentence.
"Bui I won t learn my lessons any where else
but here," rejoined 1 petulantly; "and my
governess shall teach me here!" And 1 burst
into a paroxysm of tears.
This exhibition of my temper convinced my
poor father of the justice of Doctor Warminster s
observations relative to the necessity of having a
governess for me. But it did not suggest to him
the prudence of checking my wilfuiness; for in
stead of reprehending my peevishness, he fondly
embraced and soothed me, promising that I
should have a nice governess; though he was
less explicit as to his intentions respecting her
professional duties, a point which I had deter
mined on exacting, being performed in his pre
sence in the library.
A few letters were next day addressed to the
nearest female relations of my father, stating his
desire of procuring a governess for me. I know
not whether he informed them that good looks
were an indispensable requisite in the lady who
AN ELDERLY LADY. 31
was to undertake the office; but I do know that
the half dozen Mistresses and Misses who came
recommended by them, might have served as
specimens of female ugliness. A glance at me,
who returned it by a look of undisguised dis
approval of the candidates, induced my father to
dismiss each successively, with a polite intimation
that they should hear from him in a few days.
Then came letters of remonstrance from the
ladies who had sent them; each being extremely
surprised that her protege^, Mrs. or Miss Tom-
kins or Thompson, had not been engaged, as
she was precisely the most suitable, desirable,
and appropriate person in existence. All these
letters, of course, my father was compelled to
answer; and the difficulty arid anxiety of invent
ing plausible excuses, which should be satisfac
tory to the patronesses, and yet not unjust or
offensive to the objects of their recommendation,
increased the nervous trepidation of the poor
invalid in no common degree.
I now began to think that a pretty governess
was an unattainable good; and, in proportion to
this belief, became my impatient desire to possess
so precious a rarity. My father, with some
hesitation and embarrassment, informed Doctor
War minster of his wish to procure a young lady
as governess; and added, that his poor dear Ara
bella positively insisted that good looks should
distinguish the person to be selected for the
situation.
I was present when this statement was made;
and could as little imagine why my poor father s
pale cheek became tinged with red, as I could
divine why Doctor Warminster first looked sur
prised, then smiled in a peculiar way, and at
length, rubbing his hands, and positively chuck
ling outright, repeated,
32 THE CONFESSIONS OP
" A young and pretty governess, my lord?
why, bless my soul, youth and beauty are so
generally objected to in teachers, that I am
rather surprised that is, I am somewhat aston
ished that your lordship should consider them as
indispensable requisites."
My father s cheek became still more red, as
he hesitatingly replied,
" You mistake, my good doctor; it is not I,
but my daughter, who entertains this desire; and
my poor Arabella has been so accustomed to be
indulged, that in a point on which she seems to
have set her heart, I do not wish that she should
be thwarted."
" But your lordship is aware, that a young and
pretty woman living in the house of a single man,
may give rise to surmises injurious to her, and
not agreeable to her employer.
My father looked still more embarrassed, but
he falteringly replied,
" My reputation, doctor, ought to be, I should
hope, a sufficient guarantee against all such sur
mises. No one who knows me, could suppose
that 1 could so far forget what is due to my only
child, as to place an instructress over her, of
whose morals 1 had not the best opinion."
" I beg your lordship s pardon; /did not pre
sume to doubt your morals, nor those of the
young lady, whoever she may be, who is to fill
the situation of governess to Lady Arabella; I
only alluded to what the world would be likely
to say on such a subject."
" I won t have an ugly governess, that I
won t," said I, bursting into tears; for I had con
ceived the impression, that Doctor Warminster
was opposed to my having a pretty one.
The doctor smiled spitefully, as I thought;
and my poor father wiped my eyes, and kissed
AN ELDERLY LADY. 33
my cheeks. Encouraged by his caresses, I re
peated, " I will have a pretty governess! a very
pretty governess! sha nt I, dear papa?"
As I thus vociferated, I looked triumphantly
at the doctor, who took his leave, promising to
seek for the sort of person " that would satisfy the
fastidious taste of Lady Arabella."
The following week brought a letter from the
widow of a beneficed clergyman on one of my
father s estates, detailing, that from her scanty
income and large family, she was anxious to
place one of her daughters in some family as
governess; and entreating his lordship to exert
himself with his female relations to procure her a
situation. She added, that she hoped the youth
of her daughter would not be an insuperable
objection, as she was remarkably steady.
" Why, this is the very thing," said my father.
" What, papa?" asked 1.
"I think, my dear," answered he, "that I
have at last found you a governess."
" 0! I am so glad, so very glad, "and I clapped
my hands with joy; "is she very young, clear
papa? and is she very, very pretty?"
" Yes, very young, my dear," replied my
father, "and very good, 1 am sure; for her
father was an exemplary man, and her mother, I
have heard, is an amiable woman."
"But is she very pretty, papa?"
" I don t know, my love, for I have never
seen her; but, dear Arabella, remember what I
have often told you, that it is better to be good
than pretty."
" But 1 will have her pretty, and good too;
for all pretty people are good, and ugly people
are bad and cross."
" Indeed you are wrong, my child."
34 THE CONFESSIONS OP
Doubtlessly he was proceeding to demonstrate
my error; but I interrupted him, by saying,
"No, indeed, papa, I am not wrong; don t
you remember how pretty, how very, very pretty
my own dear sweet mamma was, and you often
told me, no one was ever so good."
He pressed me to his breast, and a tear mois
tened my cheek; but I had not yet finished my
exordium, so continued:
"And you, dear papa, you are very pretty,
and who was ever so good?"
He kissed me again.
" But naughty Mrs. Sydenham, who was al
ways cross and disagreeable, she was ugly, very
ugly, was she not, papa? while good Mrs. Mary
is pretty, though not so pretty as I want my
governess to be. Yes, all pretty people are good,
and ugly people are naughty; so I will have a
pretty governess.
The allusion to my mother, and perhaps the
compliment to himself, silenced, if they did not
convince my too indulgent father; and he deter
mined to write to Mrs. Melville, to send up her
daughter, as he wished to engage a governess
for his little girl. If Miss Melville suited, she
would be retained; and if not, a compensation
would be bestowed upon her for the trouble and
expense of the journey.
I counted the hours until an answer was re
ceived; and shortly after, Miss Melville, attended
by her brother, arrived. How my heart palpi
tated yvhen she was announced! and how I longed
to have the deep bonnet and black veil, which,
though turned back, still shaded her face, re
moved, that I might ascertain if she was indeed
very pretty.
" Fell her to take off her bonnet, dear papa/ 7
whispered I.
AN ELDERLY LADY. 35
" No, not now, my dear," said he, sotto voce.
The sound of her voice pleased me, it was
low, soft, and clear; and there was a timidity in
her manner, that prepossessed me in her favor.
My father kindly desired that her brother
might remain in the house, and ordered an.
apartment to be prepared for him, and good
Mrs. Mary was summoned, to conduct Miss
Melville to hers.
" Let me go with her," said I, influenced by
the curiosity I experienced to behold her face;
and taking her hand, 1 led her up the grand
staircase, though good Mrs. Mary was for con
ducting her by the back stairs. When we had
entered the room prepared for her, I scarcely
allowed her to remove her gloves, before I en
treated her to take off her bonnet; nay, I began
to untie its strings myself, so impatient was I to
examine her face. An exclamation of delight
escaped me as I beheld it; for never did a more
lovely one meet human gaze. A profusion of
chesnut colored silken ringlets shaded a coun
tenance of exquisite beauty, on which candor
and innocence had set their seal; and a figure,
slight but of rounded symmetry, was revealed
when the large cloak in which it had been
enveloped was removed.
Her beautiful face became suffused with blushes
as I exclaimed, clapping my hands all the while,
" yes, she is so pretty, so very very, pretty !
Now, I have a nice pretty governess, I never
will let her leave me!" and 1 kissed her affec
tionately.
I thought, but perhaps it might only be fancy,
that good Mrs. Mary did not seem so delighted
with my new governess as I expected she would
be, for I had already made up my mind that all
who loved me, should love her; consequently,
36 THE CONFESSIONS OF
1 resented this imagined slight to my new
favorite.
I left her, while she prepared to change her
travelling dress for another, and rushed frantic
with joy to my father, vehemently exclaiming,
" Oh! dear papa, she is so beautiful, so very, very
beautiful, that I am sure she must be good!"
I was disappointed by the air of indifference
with which this information was received; and
was disposed to reproach my father with his
insensibility; but I observed that he looked more
pale and languid than usual, and therefore from
an instinct of affection forbore.
Doctor Warminster coming in soon after, pro
nounced that my father had caught a cold, and
manifested a feverish tendency ; consequently,
commanded that he should confine himself to his
chamber for a day or two, and see no one.
How I hated the doctor for this command !
for I had set my heart on astonishing my lather
by the beauty of Miss Melville-, and could not
support with common patience, the idea of any
postponement of the gratification of my impetu
ous wishes.
" Perhaps, my dear doctor, you would do me
the favor of seeing Miss Melville and her bro-
O
ther," said my father. < You will, in a conver
sation with her, ascertain whether she is capable
of discharging the duties of the situation which
I wish her to fill ; for, if otherwise, the sooner
she knows that she cannot retain it, the less
painful will be the loss of it. to her."
" 1 won t have my pretty governesssent away,"
sobbed 1 " 1 love Miss Melville, and I will
have her stay with me always,"
My father gave a look of helpless languor to
the doctor, who in return shrugged up his
shoulders, a favorite movement witli him when.
AN ELDERLY LADY. 37
not pleased, and left the library to see Miss Mel
ville, and report progress.
" I know he won t like my pretty governess,"
said I; "for he wanted me to have an ugly old
cross one, I know he did; and I don t like nasty
ugly Doctor Warminster, that I don t!"
" Really, nay dear Arabella," replied my fa
ther, "you are now unjust, and unreasonable.
Doctor Warminster has been always kind arid
attentive, and you grieve me when I see you
thus obstinate and ungrateful."
" You grieve me," was the severest reproof
I had ever heard from my kind father s lips, and
its power over me was omnipotent. It imme
diately rendered me docile; and, as I kissed
him, I promised never again to designate Doctor
Warminster, as being " nasty," or " ugly;" two
expressions which my father observed were ex
ceedingly unbecoming in the mouth of a young
lady.
I counted the minutes impatiently during the
doctor s absence. At the end of an hour, how
ever, he returned; and confirmed my report as
to the appearance of Miss Melville, by stating
it to be, according to his guarded phraseology,
"peculiarly prepossessing. But what is more
important," continued he, " the young lady ap
pears sensible, modest, intelligent, and well edu
cated; and, notwithstanding her youth, 1 hope
your lordship will have reason to be satisfied
with her. The brother, too, is a well mannered,
gentlemanly person, who wishes to enter the
church, for which he has been brought up."
My father appeared highly gratified by this
account, while I, though greatly pleased at
having my favorable impressions relative to my
pretty governess confirmed, felt abashed at the
VOL. I. 4
38 THE CONFESSIONS OF
consciousness of the injustice I had rendered to
Dr. Warminster.
The indisposition of my poor father proved
more serious than even his physician had first
apprehended. It confined him to his bed-room
for above a fortnight, to which I was prohibited
more than a daily visit of five minutes duration,
perfect quiet being pronounced essential to his
recovery. But even in that limited space I for
got not to repeat the warmest praises of dear,
good Miss Melville, omitting the epithet " pret
ty," which she had requested me never to apply
to her.
"But you are pretty, prettier than any one,"
would I say, in remonstrance to her request on
this subject; "and the truth should always be
spoken, papa has often told me."
" We are all formed by the Almighty," would
Miss Melville answer, " it is His will, that we
should be plain, or otherwise, and we should
never attach any importance to the matter."
The fortnight of my father s illness being spent
entirely with my governess, enabled me to make
a rapid progress in learning. Her gentleness,
and patient attention, were assisted by my ow r n
anxious desire, and I was delighted, when not
at my lessons, to be read to by Miss Melville.
Though the time passed quickly, and agreeably
in my new studies, still I longed for my dear
father s convalescence, that I might enjoy his
society as well as Miss Melville s, and that I
might also witness his surprise and pleasure at
beholding her. He evinced, however, no desire
on this point; on the contrary, he had been
some days in the library, and had resumed his
ordinary routine of life, and yet he still post
poned a compliance with my oft reiterated re
quest to see her.
AN ELDERLY LADY. 39
What he refused to my entreaties, he at length
yielded to my tears; and it was agreed that Miss
Melville should be invited to the library that
evening. 1 watched, anxiously watched his coun
tenance, as she entered the room. But, to my
great surprise and disappointment, I discovered
no symptom of the rapturous admiration I had
childishly anticipated. His reception of her was
polite, nay, kind; and her timidity, which had
no rustic awkwardness in it, but evidently arose
from native modesty, rendered him still more
affable to her.
Vain of the little I had already acquired, I
now displayed all my learning to my delighted,
father, who was as surprised as gratified by my
rapid progress.
Two hours fleeted quickly and happily away:
Miss Melville was requested to give a list, of all
the books required for my scholastic pursuits;
and politely offered permission to use any works
the library contained, for her own perusal. She
then left my father s presence, evidently pleased
with her reception; and my father seemed no
less so with her.
The next day, her brother was received by
my father, who, after a long conversation, found
him so sensible and well informed, that he wrote
a letter to his friend the Bishop of , to
recommend him for holy orders; being fully
determined to bestow on him a small living
in his gift.
This unlocked for good fortune delighted Miss
Melville, who devoted every hour, and I may
add. every thought, to my improvement, which
was as rapid as it was gratifying to my father.
Our evenings were always spent in the library;
where, in a short time, at my request, a piano
forte was installed, from which Miss Melville
40 THE CONFESSIONS OP
drew sounds that answer only to a master hand.
We soon persuaded her to accompany them
with her voice; and it would be difficult to say,
whether the father or daughter listened with
more pleasure to her dulcet tones.
Having heard my father desire Doctor War-
minster to look out for a gentleman to read to
him, an hour or two a day, his own sight being
too weak to permit his studying without pain,
I entreated him to let Miss Melville undertake
this office. At first he declined, but at length
yielded, as he generally did, to my pertinacious
peseverance.
The flexibility, and delicate sweetness of her
voice, the distinctness of her enunciation, and
the correctness of her style, at once surprised
and charmed him. How triumphant was I, at
witnessing this effect, though I longed to be able
to share this new task with her. Two hours a
day were henceforth devoted to this occupation.
The books selected had a reference to my stu
dies. History, travels, and belles lettres were
perused. I soon learned to point out, on the
map, the different places named in the books,
and made no inconsiderable progress in chrono
logy. My mind expanded; every day marked
my improvement, and my father witnessed it
with gratitude and pleasure. His health, too,
appeared to become less delicate, now that he
had a constant and cheerful society, and music,
which always soothed and cheered him.
Six months flew by, and found me each day
more fondly attached to Miss Melville. In her
gentle ear was poured every thought of my
youthful mind, and on her sympathy did I al
ways count, and never in vain in all my plea
sures or pains, and the latter were but " few,
and far between." The manner of my dear
AN ELDERLY LADY. 41
father towards this charming young woman, was
marked by a respectful kindness, that never
varied, a kindness as remote from familiarity as
from hauteur. Hers towards him, was the de
ferential attention of a modest young woman,
who never presumed on his affability, but was
anxious to merit a continuance of it. Doctor
Warminster soon became one of her warmest
friends, and was never tired of commending her
to my father.
We were all happy, when a letter arrived,
announcing a visit from a maiden aunt of my
father, who rarely visited London, but who,
when she came, took up her abode at his man
sion. Young as I was, I could perceive that this
announcement gave him pain; and when he
communicated it to Doctor Warminster, the good
man shook his head and shrugged his shoulders
in a manner that indicated quite as expressively
as words could do, that the expected arrival
afforded him no satisfaction. I had no recol
lection of the Lady Theodosia Conningsby, but
beholding the impression her intended visit con
veyed, 1 began to form a thousand fancies rela
tive to her. I observed that my father became
thoughtful and nervous from the moment her
intention of coming was announced, until she
made her appearance; and this alteration in him
impressed me with no pleasurable anticipations
with regard to the cause of it.
Punctual to the hour she had named, Lady
Theodosia Conningsby s old fashioned chariot,
surmounted by capacious imperials, and high
bonnet-cases, rolled to the door. Two ancient
servitors, in rich liveries, made in a fashion as
obsolete as that of the chariot, slowly descended
from the roomy dicky-box, and as slowly assisted
their mistress to alight, who, followed by her
4*
42 THE CONFESSIONS OP
female attendant, bearing in her arms a lap-dog,
entered the house.
When Miss Melville and I were summoned
to the library in the evening, we found Lady
Theodosia seated vis-a-vis to my father, in a large
arm-chair. Her appearance was remarkably
oulree her dress being that a-lu-mode, some half
a century hefore. She was tall and extremely
thin, her face long and meagre, her nose sharply
pointed, her lips thin and descending at the
corners, and her chin of inordinate length,
and singularly protruded, as if in search of
a view of the rest of her face. But her eyes!
There is no possibility of rendering justice to
them. They were of a light greenish hue, and
were so obliquely placed in their sockets that
when fixed on one object, she seemed to be
regarding some other, in a precisely contrary
direction.
In short, her whole appearance would have
been considered grotesque, had not an expression
of extreme ill-nature and acerbity pervaded
every portion of her physiognomy, and the ob
liquity of her vision increased this repulsive and
sinister character.
" Give me leave to present to you Miss
Melville," said my father politely and Miss
Melville courtesied to Lady Theodosia, who
vouchsafed not the slightest notice in return.
"This is my daughter," continued my father,
who had not observed her ladyship s rudeness to
my governess. " Arabella, go and welcome
Lady Theodosia."
I approached her with reluctance and she
pressed her skinny and parched lips to my fore
head. I was for retreating after this salutation,
but she sternly told me to remain, that she mig;ht
examine my face, and see which of the family I
AN ELDERLY LADY. 43
most resembled. She drew forth a pair of spec
tacles, carefully wiped them, placed them astride
her nose, and then deliberately surveyed me.
" I think, nephew, that she resembles my
grandmother very strongly don t you agree
with me? You, of course, never saw the Duchess,
but her portrait you must remember. I was
considered to bear a verv striking family likeness
to her."
My poor father, to whom I turned an ap
pealing glance, could with difficulty repress a
smile that played about his lips; and Miss
Melville looked intently at the carpet to avoid
meeting my eyes.
* Arabella has the family nose," continued
Lady Theodosia, " yes, we all have that feature
high and prominent, a beauty peculiar to those
of noble and ancient race. The Bourbons all
have it. Her eyes, too, are exactly like those
of my grandmother. Do you not remember the
portrait?"
" I confess the likeness does not strike me,"
replied my father.
<* Whom then do you think she resembles ?"
demanded Lady Theodosia, in an imperious
tone.
" Her dear mother," replied my father and
his lip trembled with emotion, as it never failed
to do when she was alluded to.
" I see not the slightest likeness," answered
she; "on the contrary, I think the child bears a
most remarkable family resemblance to our
family," laying a peculiar emphasis on the word
our.
My father, who detested arguments, refrained
from dissenting. But this tacit admission of her
opinion by no means satisfied the pertinacious
old lady.
44 THE CONFESSIONS OP
" I perceive, nephew, that you do not agree
with me," resumed she.
" I confess we differ," said my father, depre-
catingly, " but every eye, you know, varies in
its perception on these points."
" No, nephew, I can admit no such fallacy.
The eyes must be strange eyes indeed," and
here she squinted most abominably " that do
not discover that Arabella s are as like those of
her grandmother s portrait as it is possible for
eyes to be, and bear a strong resemblance to
mine."
" No they don t do they papa ?" exclaimed
I all my incipient vanity wounded by the as
sertion, and tears starting to the lids of the
libelled orbs. A beseeching look from my father,
and a terrified one from Miss Melville prevented
me from finishing the sentence, which would
have been extremely offensive to Lady Theo-
dosia.
"Upon my word, I cannot compliment the
young person who enacts the part of governess
to your daughter, on her pupil s progress in po
liteness," said Lady Theodosia haughtily and
bitterly. " Had you, nephew, engaged Mistress
Jefferson, whom I recommended, 1 think Lady
Arabella would have been guilty of no such in
stance of ill-breeding as that to which 1 have been
a disgusted witness."
Miss Melville s cheeks were suffused with
blushes, and my poor father felt scarcely less em
barrassed at the unfeeling rudeness of his callous
and acrimonious aunt.
"May T inquire why you did not attend to
my recommendation, and to whom you are in
debted for the young person before me, whose
extreme juvenility and inexperience render her
totally unfit for so grave and important a task?"
AN ELDERLY LADY. 45
Tears now stole clown the fair cheeks of Miss
Melville, which I observing, immediately ran
and embraced her, begging her not to weep at
any thing thut old cross lady said.
" Pon my word, this is too bad, nephew," said
my aunt angrily, " I never beheld such a spoilt
and rude child in my life as your daughter. But
this comes of having young governesses, who
fancy themselves beauties forsooth, and who are,
perhaps, encouraged in the erroneous belief by
those who have the folly to employ them."
" Really, Lady Theodosia, 1 must entreat,"
said my father, agitated beyond measure, " that
you will reserve your strictures for another occa
sion."
" Will your lordship excuse my withdrawing?"
said Miss Melville, with that meekness that ever
characterised her.
" Pray, by all means let her go I always
think that such persons are wholly out of their
place when I see them intruded into the society
of their superiors," observed Lady Theodosia.
I followed Miss Melville from the library,
leaving my poor dear nervous father to support,
as best he might, the continuation of his dis
agreeable aunt s discussion; and tried all my
efforts to sooth Miss Melville, who wept bitterly
at the rudeness to which she had been exposed.
When Dr. Warminster came next day, he
found my poor father confined to bed, and more
indisposed than he had lately been. Miss Mel
ville had been summoned at an early hour of the
morning to Lady Theodosia s dressing-room,
whence a long lecture from her ladyship sent her
back her cheeks crimsoned, and her eyes bath
ed in tears. It was at this moment that Doctor
Warminster entered the school-room.
" Bless me, bless me, what is the matter?"
46 THE CONFESSIONS OP
asked the good man on beholding the agitation of
my governess. Sobs and tears were the only
answer he received for five or six minutes; but
when he had taken from the family medicine
chest some sal volatile, and presented a glass of
water, into which he had poured a few drops of
it, to Miss Melville, she shortly became able to
articulate.
" doctor! you do not cannot believe
the dreadful reports which Lady Theodosia asserts
are circulated relative to me!"
" What reports? I know not even to what
you refer; and I dare be sworn they originate
wholly and solely in her ladyship s own brain,
always prolific in ill-nature."
" She has said such cruel, cruel things to me,
doctor!" and here the poor girl s tears streamed
afresh. " Some of them," and she blushed to
her very temples, " I could not repeat they are
too dreadful. She declares that my residence
beneath the roof of an unmarried man is a gross
violation of all decency, that my reputation is
destroyed for ever, and that I must leave the
house. doctor! my poor mother my sisters
my brother what will they, what can they say,
when they hear this dreadful calumny? But
they know I am innocent!" and she wept bitterly.
I heard no more, for I stole hastily from tne
apartment, ran to that of my father, and mount
ing on his bed, threw myself sobbing into his
arms, exclaiming
"Papa! papa! that nasty cross old lady has
scolded poor dear Miss Melville, and made her
cry, and said she shall not live with you and me.
Do, dear papa, send that cross old lady away,
and do not let my dear pretty governess leave
me!"
My tears gushed plentifully at the dread of
AN ELDERLY LADY. 47
losing Miss Melville, and I declared with sobs,
that I could not be happy, I could not live, with
out my own pretty, dear, good governess. My
poor father appeared greatly agitated, but Doctor
Warminster, who now came to his room, inform
ed him that he had succeeded in soothing the
wounded feelings of Miss Melville.
"As your lordship is too much indisposed to
bear being harassed by any scene with this
very troublesome lady, who has deranged all the
comfort of your house, perhaps it would be as
well for me to seek an interview with her, and
endeavor to make her sensible of the mischief
she has caused."
" How kind of you, my dear friend," replied
my poor father; " do pray see her, and let me
know the result."
In half an hour the doctor returned more dis
composed than I thought he could ever have
been rendered; for he was habitually a calm, dis
passionate man,
"By Jo?e, my lord," said he, "Lady Theo-
dosia is a perfect she-dragon! she maintains that
Miss Melville stands in a relation to your lord
ship which renders it improper, nay, impossible
to countenance her, or submit to remaining be
neath the same roof. She has told the poor inno
cent young lady her opinion, and your lordship
may judge its effect. To talk reason to this ob
stinate old lady is useless; she says that nothing
but Miss Melville s leaving the house, and your
placing some Mrs. Jefferson in her place, can in
duce her to believe the young lady not guilty."
" Good heavens! what shameful conduct!"
observed my father; " what is to be done ?"
" Nothing, that 1 know of," replied the doctor,
" except to let the unmanageable old lady take
48 THE CONFESSIONS OP
herself off, and then the house will again be re
stored to its usual peace."
" I shall write her a few lines resumed my
father, " for it is impossible to let her entertain
so erroneous an opinion of Miss Melville."
The note was written what its contents might
be I know not; but the result was that the old
fashioned chariot conveyed its mistress and suile
next day to the house of another relation, and
we were relieved from her disagreeable presence.
A timidity, painful to witness, and impossible
to dissipate, had now replaced Miss Melville s
former gentle gaiety, and easy, yet respectful,
manners. In a few days, my father received a
letter from his aunt, and another from the female
relative with whom she had taken up her abode;
and the evident discomposure their perusal pro
duced, proved that they were not of a conciliatory
character. But, as he threw them indignantly
into the fire, as soon as read, I never had an op
portunity of judging whether the epistolary style
of Lady Theodosia was as offensive as the con
versational.
In a very brief time after this occurrence came
Mrs. Melville to reclaim her daughter. She,
too, had been written to by Lady Theodosia, and
in terms of such insulting reproach, relative to her
daughter s supposed position in my father s house,
that she immediately thought it necessary to come
in person and remove her. My father learnt
this intention and the cause with real regret, but
I wept in agony and refused to be comforted.
The good Doctor Warminster endeavored to
reason Mrs. Melville out of the scruples she en
tertained as to the propriety of leaving her daugh
ter with me, though of the perfect innocence of
that daughter she never had a doubt; but he
AN ELDERLY LADY. 49
could not prevail on her to alter her determina
tion.
My kind and good father was lavish in his
generosity towards mother and daughter; who
left the house lamenting the necessity of the
measure.
Previous to their departure, and to console me
for it, a portrait was taken of Miss Melville. I
have treasured it ever since, and even now can
not regard it without an affectionate recollection
of the beautiful and amiable original.
Never shall I forget the evening that followed
her leaving the house, where her presence had so
long diffused cheerfulness. Her pianoforte stood
silent, her accustomed chair empty, and her sweet
clear voice was no longer heard reading aloud to
my father, or gently and affectionately checking
my fro ward impatience. Incessant weeping
brought on a violent headache, followed by fever,
during the paroxysms of which I continually
demanded Miss Melville, my own dear good
pretty Miss Melville. My father, who anxiously
watched over me, listened to my entreaties for
my governess with sorrow, but promised, if I
would be calm, and do all that Dr. Warminster
required, that he would take me into the country
as soon as 1 became well, to see dear Miss Mel
ville. This promise cheered me, and from the
moment it was made I began to get better. I
insisted on having her portrait on my bed; how
often was the miniature now before me pressed
to my feverish lips, and bathed with my tears
and how often did I ask my father to repeat to
me his promise that as soon as I was able to
travel, we should go to the country to see Miss
Melville.
In a fortnight more, we were on our route to
Melford, the village where her mother resided,
VOL. I. 5
50 THE CONFESSIONS OF
attended by good Doctor Warminster, who did
not think me sufficiently strong to forego his
care. I could scarcely be kept quiet at the inn,
while the doctor went to announce our arrival,
and to request that Miss Melville should come
to me.
The kind hearted girl burst into tears when
she saw my altered face, on which my recent
malady had leit visible traces; and my father was
evidently touched with this proof of her affection
for me.
Days stole on, and found us still dwelling in
the inn at Mel ford, my health improving, and my
poor father s less suffering than usual. Every
allusion to leaving Miss Melville again brought
tears to my eyes, and an anxiety that alarmed the
fears of my father.
" What is to be done, my good doctor?"
asked he one day after an exhibition of my grief
at a reference to our departure * my child can
not be reasoned out of her feelings in the present
delicate state of her health. She is my only
comfort, my only hope, doctor, the last scion of
the fumily stock; what is to be done? There is
no sacrifice I would not make to secure my poor
Arabella the society and care of this estimable
young lady, but 1 know not how to accomplish
it."
" A mode has occurred to me, my lord,"
replied the doctor, musingly, "it is a singular
one, and 1 should dread naming it to any person
of your lordship s rank, were 1 not acquainted
with the engrossing affection you entertain for
your only child; and emboldened by the phrase
you lately used, that there was no sacrifice you
would not make to secure her the society of Miss
Melville. May I proceed, my lord?"
" Certainly, doctor, though I am totally at a
AN ELDERLY LADY. 51
loss to imagine what sacrifice can secure the ob
ject we wish to obtain."
Your lordship is aware, but probably not to
the full extent, for the young lady in question,
and her mother, with that delicacy which charac
terises them, have concealed it as much as possi
ble, of the injury inflicted on their feelings, and
on Miss Melville s reputation, by the slander
ous reports circulated relative to her position
in your lordship s family, by Lady Theodosia
Conningsby."
" Yes, doctor, too well do I know it; for, from
my female relations, whose protegees I have re
fused to accept as governesses, have I received
letters of recrimination caused by the evil reports
to which you allude."
" Has it never occurred to your lordship, how
Miss Melville s presence beneath your roof might
be secured without a possibility of scandal not
as Miss Melville, but as a married lady in short,
my lord, as Countess of Walsingham!"
" Good God, doctor! you have taken me quite
by surprise. No, I never thought of such a pos
sibility. The affection I entertained for Arabel
la s mother, always precluded the thought of giv
ing her a successor in my heart, or in my house.
My health, too, is so extremely delicate, as you
are aware, that I stand more in need of a nurse
than of a wife."
" But why might not your lordship find the
best of all nurses in a wife? and, surely, a more
gentle and amiable companion could not be found
than Miss Melville. I observed how much her
society solaced your solitude when she was be
neath your roof, and what a [gloom her absence
occasioned. But in the present case, we are to
consider the happiness of your daughter, as you
so will it, even more than your own; and as that
52 THE CONFESSIONS OF
appears to depend on the society of this young
lady, it is for your lordship to reflect whether you
will, or will not, secure this advantage for her, by
the only means in your power."
The result of this conversation, which the
good doctor repeated to me many years after,
was, that he was commissioned by my father, to
make proposals of marriage to Miss Melville;
who, much to her honor, though truly grateful,
was by no means dazzled by them: nay, only
yielded, at length, to the repeated representa
tions of The doctor, that my health would, in its
present delicate state, inevitably fall a sacrifice to
a separation from her, to whom I was so fondly
attached.
The marriage shortly after took place: and
never had my father cause to repent it; for Lady
Walsingham devoted her whole time to the du
ties of her new situation, and proved the truest,
gentlest friend to him, and the most affectionate
guide and monitress to me.
We went abroad for some years, visited the
South of France and Italy; from the mild climate
of which my father s health derived considerable
benefit. But his wishes pointing to home, we
returned to England, and having spent some
months at Walsingham Castle, we took up our
abode in London, that 1 might have the advan
tage of masters in finishing my studies.
And now it was that the malignity of my
father s female relations manifested itself by every
means in their power. Cards from each of them
were left at his door, inscribed for me, lest, by
any chance, the mistress of the mansion should
imagine them to be intended for her. Lady
Theodosia Walsingham had spared neither time
nor trouble in propagating the most injurious
reports against the wife of her nephew, whom she
AN ELDERLY LADY. 53
every where represented as an artful, designing
young adventuress, who had first seduced her
poor, unhappy, weak-minded nephew, and then
inveigled him into marriage. I was stated to be
a victim to the tyranny of my stepmother, and
my father was said to be the slave of her will.
The acquaintances to whom these falsehoods
were repeated, were not slow in giving them
circulation. My mother s family were apprised
of them, and never having ceased to feel the
wound their pride had received, from the selec
tion of a governess as a successor to a scion of
their aristocratic race, they lent a ready credence
to every disadvantageous rumor relative to Lady
Walsingham.
I became an object of general interest to the
female members of both families, who, during
the period of my father s widowhood, had never
evinced the slightest anxiety about me. Letters
were written to my father by them, requesting
that I might be permitted to visit them occa
sionally. He would have returned a haughty,
and decided negative to such requests, for he
felt indignant at the implied insult offered to his
excellent wife, but she entreated so urgently,
that I might be suffered to go to them, that he
at length yielded to her wishes. The good Dr.
Warminster, too, advised a compliance, giving
for reason that a refusal would only serve as a
confirmation to the evil reports in circulation.
Never shall I forget the first visit I paid. I
was then in my twelfth year, but from having
always associated only with persons arrived at
.maturity, my mind was more formed than that
of most children of that age. It was to the
Marchioness of Rocktower, the aunt of my
mother, that this first visit was paid; a cold,
stately, formal being, who looked as if she had
5*
54 THE CONFESSIONS OF
been born an old lady, and never had passed
through the gradations of infancy, or girlhood.
She kissed my forehead, examined my features,
and protested that she was glad to find 1 so
strongly resembled my poor dear mother
"Yes, I was a perfect Oranville, there was no
mistaking the family likeness. How is it that
you are alone, my dear?" she then added.
" I wanted mamma, to come with me," an
swered I; " but she would not."
" What ! do you call her, mamma?"
"Oh ! yes, ever since she has been Lady
Walsingham."
" I wonder they did not exact the epithet
before," murmured she spitefully. "And have
you no governess, Arabella?"
"Mamma is my governess; she teaches me
all my lessons, except dancing, music, and draw
ing, and for these I have masters."
I forgot to state, that the Marchioness had a
lady present at this interview, to whom she
turned with significant glances at each of my
responses to the queries put to me; and who
replied to them with an ominous shake of the
head, or a murmur between a sigh and a groan.
" And who stays with you while you take
your lessons?" resumed Lady Rocktower.
" Mamma. 1 always have my masters early
in the morning, before papa is up, and mamma
rises early to be present."
The two ladies exchanged mournful glances
and sighed aloud.
"Poor child!" ejaculated the Marchioness;
and " Poor child!" echoed her companion.
i And who came with you in the carriage
here; for you surely were not suffered to come
alone ?"
"Mamma came with me to the door, and I so
AN ELDERLY LADY. 55
wished her to come in! but she would not," an
swered I, artlessly.
" How mean ! how unworthy ! what a want of
spirit ! to come to a door, which she knows
never shall be open to her," broke forth the
Marchioness.
" Yes, very mean, quite dreadful !" repeated
the other lady, piously casting up her eyes to the
ceiling.
" Who is mean and dreadful ?" asked I, with
a strong suspicion that these insulting terms,
though totally inapplicable, were by them meant
to apply to Lady Walsingham.
" You must not ask questions, my dear," re
plied the Marchioness; "it is very rude and ill-
bred to do so."
" Yes, very rude and ill-bred," repeated her
echo.
" Are you very happy at home ? Speak the
truth, you may tell me; I am, you know, your
own aunt, my poor dear child."
" I always speak the truth," answered I, red
dening with indignation. " Mamma taught me
always to speak the truth."
" It quite wounds my feelings, to hear her call
that person, Mamma," said Lady Rocktower.
" Oh ! if my lost niece could have imagined it,
she who loved him so much ! It is indeed dread
ful to think of the selfishness of men."
" Very dreadful !" repeated the other lady.
" But you have not told me whether you are
happy at home, my poor child," whined Lady
Rocktower, with a piteous face, and a dolorous
tone of voice; prematurely prepared to condole
on the confession of misery, which her malice
had imagined.
" Happy ?" repeated I, " Oh, ever so happy !"
" Poor child! she is told to say this," exclaim-
56 THE CONFESSIONS OF
ed Lady Rocktower, in a voice that was meant
to be a whisper, but which, owing to her deaf
ness, was louder than she intended.
"Doubtless she is!" groaned her friend, again
casting her eyes up to the group of painted Cu
pids on the ceiling, who seemed maliciously to
smile at the antiquated dames beneath.
" I vvas not told to say so," cried I, angrily;
" I always speak the truth I am happy at home,
and have a fond kind papa and mamma;" and
tears came into my eyes.
The two ladies exchanged glances again, which
glances seemed to say that one of them had gone
too far in her comments. *
" I only meant, my love, that all children,
who have had the misfortune to lose a mother,
that is, an own, real mother, cannot be so
happy as as if they had not lost her," said my
grand aunt, trying with all her might to look
mournful.
" Yes, they cannot be so happy as if they had
not lost her," echoed the toady.
" But you, I suppose," resumed the Mar
chioness, " do not at all remember your own
mother; you, unhappy child, were so young
when she died. What a dreadful blow that was
to me !"
"A dreadful blow, indeed," groaned the echo.
"I wrote to offer to go to Walsingham Castle,
to nurse her during her last illness, though at
that period I vvas anxiously watching the pro
gress of Mr. Vernon s, the celebrated oculist,
treatment of the cataract in the eyes of my poor
dear Jacko; a treatment which, alas ! terminated
so fatally. The poor dear creature sank under
it! That was, indeed, a heavy affliction. "
" Yes, a very heavy affliction, indeed," re
sponded the parasite.
AN ELDERLY LADY. 57
Who was Jacko ?" asked I.
(( What! did you never hear your father speak
of Jacko?" demanded Lady Rocktower, in a tone
of the utmost surprise.
" Never," answered I.
" What hearts some people have !" groaned
her ladyship.
" What hearts, indeed!" repeated her com
panion.
" Mrs. Lancaster, be so good as to bring me
the miniature of my niece; it is on the table in
my dressing-room ; and bring, also, the portrait
of my poor dear Jacko, which is by it."
Mrs. Lancaster bustled off with an activity
really surprising for one of her years, and un-
wieldly size; and quickly returned with the
picture.
" Look here, my dear," said Lady Rocktower;
" this is the portrait of your lovely lost mother.
I dare say you never saw her picture before."
"I have one just like this, in a locket," an
swered I, " with mamma s hair at the back, and
I see her portrait every day in the library, and
in the drawing-room."
"How unfeeling!" interrupted Lady Rock-
tower, which was, like all her phrases, echoed.
" And 1 have a large picture of her in my
school-room," resumed I proudly, "which my
second mamma had hung up there for me."
" How artful!" murmured the Marchioness.
"How artful!" reiterated Mrs. Lancaster.
" What is artful ?" demanded I.
"You must not ask questions, it is very ill-
bred to do so," was the reply of my grand aunt,
and, "Yes, very ill-bred, indeed," was again
murmured forth from the lips of her companion.
The portrait of Jacko was not in the place where
it was supposed to have been; and 1 did not re-
58 THE CONFESSIONS OF
quest Lady Rocktower to have it sought for, lest
I should be told that I was ill-bred.
At length, the carriage was announced; and I
bade farewell to my grand aunt, leaving, probably,
as unfavorable an impression of me on her mind,
as mine retained of her. I scarcely need add, that
1 received no more invitations to visit her, for-
her curiosity had been satisfied, and her malevo
lence disappointed.
What a relief did it seem to throw myself into
Lady Washingham s arms, which I did the mo
ment I entered the carriage.
" Oh! dear mamma, never send me to see that
disagreeable old lady any more. I don t like her
at all, indeed I don t; nor that other fat old wo
man that repeats every word Lady Rocktower
says."
How affectionate were the tones, in which I
was told that I must never dislike any one, but
more especially my relations; and how firmly,
but gently, was 1 checked when I commenced
repeating the questions that were asked of me,
and the comments that were so improperly made
in my presence. Young as 1 was, an impression
that Lady Rocktower disliked my stepmother,
had taken possession of my mind; and I resented
it by entertaining for her ladyship a similar senti
ment.
My father, though he questioned me not,
checked not my communications relative to this
visit, when mamma was absent from the library;
and embraced me fondly, when he heard my art
less remarks, all so indicative of my grateful
affection for Lady Walsingham.
" Who was Jacko, papa," asked I, "of whom
Lady Rocktower was so fond?"
" A huge monkey, and by far the most detesta
ble animal I ever had the misfortune to come in
AN ELDERLY LADY. 59
contact with," was the answer. "He once bit
my hand severely, because I prevented him from
attacking you, when your nurse took you to my
aunt s; and she was highly indignant at my chas
tising him, seeming to think her monkey of much
more importance than my child."
This anecdote, completed my dislike of her
ladyship, which not even the bequest of her for
tune to me some ten years after, could eradicate.
When I visited the female relatives on the
paternal side, they all, and each, discovered that
I was exceedingly like my father s family. I
was, as they asserted, a true Walsingham, and
not at all like my mother s family, which they
seemed to consider as a piece of singular good
fortune.
My father having heard from me the observa
tion made by Lady Rocktower of the meanness,
the unworlhiness, of driving to a door that would
never open to receive the presumptuous loiterer
on the outside of it, fully understood its malice;
and prohibited Lady Walsingham from accom
panying me on any of my future visits. Her
female attendant, a most respectable young per
son, fyr superior to the generality of fenirnes de
chambre, ever afterwards escorted me on these
occasions; and I then heard not a few comments
on the insolence and pride of some people, who
so soon forget themselves, that they forsooth were
too fine to continue to enact the parts, by the
performance of which, they had elevated them
selves from their original obscurity.
Never did I observe a single symptom of
pique or discontent evince itself in my amiable
stepmother, at the conduct of my father s rela
tives. The fulfilment of her duties appeared to be
the source whence her enjoyments were derived.
The comfort of my father, and the improvement
60 THE CONFESSIONS OF
and happiness of myself, were the constant ob
jects of her attention; and such was the sweet
ness of her temper, and the winning gentleness
and cheerfulness of her manners, that her society
diffused a general happiness.
Time rolled on: and at the period I completed
my sixteenth year, no where could be found a
family more fondly united; or, between the
members of which, a better understanding in
variably subsisted. Her brother was the only
member of her family who frequented our house;
for she, with a delicate perception of my poor
father s dislike to an extensive circle of visitors,
never obtruded her relations upon him; though
her correspondence with, and presents to them,
were frequent.
A liberal provision had been made for them,
by my father on his marriage; and her brother,
who was now in possession of the living which
had accrued to him through the same source,
was, I have stated, an occasional inmate of our
mansion, whenever his duties permitted his ab
sence from his flock. Nature never formed a
finer model of manly beauty, than Frederick
Melville, and the heart was worthy of the shrine.
His presence never failed to bestow increased
cheerfulness on our family party. My father
entertained a strong partiality for him, which
was displayed in many a costly gift despatched
to the parsonage, as well as in the marked
gratification his society conferred. Lady Wal-
singham loved him, as only a sister can love an
only brother, ere she has experienced a warmer,
and less pure attachment-; and I loved him,
with all the wild idolatry of a passionate heart,
now first awakened from its childish slumber,
yet still unconscious of the nature of the senti
ment that animated it.
AN ELDERLY LADY. 61
Many are those of my sex, who might have
passed the first years of youth, without a
knowledge of the passion they more frequently
imagine thanyee/, had they not acquired its rudi
ments from female companions, or the perusal
of novels; somewhat in the same manner as
hypochondriacs suppose themselves to expe
rience the diseases of which they either hear or
read. The ephemeral fancies, young ladies
dignify with the appellation of love, no more
resemble the real sentiment, than do the ima
ginary maladies resemhle those for which they
are mistaken: but the effects of both are equally
dangerous. Many a girl has madly rushed into
a marriage, believing herself as madly in love,
who has had to deplore her infatuation through
a long life of consequent penance; and many a
malade imuginaire has sunk under the real re
sults of a supposed visionary disease.
Mine, was not a precocious passion forced
into life by such unhealthy or extraneous excite
ments. 1 had never read of, or conversed on the
subject, till long after its wild dreams haunted
my pillow, and its engrossing tenderness filled
my heart. Weil do 1 remember the suffering I
endured, when Frederick Melville first began
to replace the unceremonious familiarity with
which he had been wont to treat me, during
my childhood, by a more reserved, and de
ferential manner. Filled with alarm, I demanded
of Lady Walsingham how I had offended her
brother, for he no longer behaved to me as
formerly?
" Remember, my dear Arabella, that you are
no longer a child," replied she; "and that there
fore he would err, if he continued to treat you
as one."
1 felt a gleam of pleasure at this acknowledge-
VOL. 1. 6
62 THE CONFESSIONS OF
ment of rny being no longer a child. The truth
was, I had never been treated as one, conse
quently no change was visible in the manners
of those with whom 1 lived; hence, 1 was not
as sensible of my approach to womanhood, as
those young persons are, who impatiently await
their emancipation from the nursery school
room, and its roast mutton and rice pudding
dinners.
" I am sure," said I, and the tears filled my
eyes, " if people cease to like me, or to show
their affection, because I am no longer a child,
I shall regret my infancy, and wish to resume it.
But you have not changed your manner towards
me, neither has my father; why then should
Mr. Melville? I am sure, dear mother, though
your good nature prompts you to conceal the
fact, that this change in his manner has occurred
because he no longer likes me as he did."
And my tears flowed afresh.
The anxiety Lady Walsingham s countenance
displayed, though she endeavored to disguise it,
convinced me that my suspicions were well
founded, and increased my sorrow, in spite of
all her efforts to reason me out of it.
When we met at dinner, I remarked that her
eyes bore evident traces of tears. Frederick too
looked more grave than I had ever seen him;
and my poor father, in general, the least talkative
of the little circle, was now the most so. He
proposed music in the evening, to which we
assented, though little disposed; and I played an
accompaniment, while Lady Walsingham and
her brother sang one of my father s favorite
duos. The tones of his voice, seemed to sink
into my very soul; low, plaintive, and full of
rich melody, their deep pathos excited anew the
AN ELDERLY LADY. 63
tenderness, already but too much developed in
my heart.
The sister and brother sang only sacred
music, to which they had been accustomed from
infancy; and their voices were in such perfect
harmony, that even the most fastidious critic
would have listened to them with delight. For
me, no other voices ever possessed the same
charm; and I thought I had never heard them
breathe forth sounds of such exquisite and
softened melancholy, as on that memorable night.
The duo ended, they paused to hear the ac
customed request to repeat it a minute elapsed
yet no word escaped the lips that had been wont
to applaud them.
"Hush! he sleeps," whispered my mother,
gently approaching with stealthy steps the easy
chair in which my father reclined; but no sooner
had she reached it, than a shriek of horror
burst from her lips, and she fell insensible at his
feet.
We rushed to the spot oh God! never shall
I forget the agony of that moment ! Even now,
after the lapse of more than half a century, the
scene seems present to my imagination.
My father, my dear, kind, indulgent father,
was a corse! the vital spark was extinct for
ever, and his gentle spirit had passed away with
out a groan. Though years, long years, have
since elapsed, leaving many a furrow on my
brow, and inflicting many a pang on my heart,
that fearful evening, has never been effaced from
my memory. Then was the golden veil of
youth, that had lent to Hfe its brightness first
rudely rent asunder. Then came, for the first
time, the soul-harrowing conviction of the un
certainty of life, and the brevity of its blessings;
a conviction that destroys the confidence in hap
64 THE CONFESSIONS OF
piness, which forms so consiclerahle a part of the
happiness itself. Alas ! the dear object, of so
much affection was now a cold and lifeless corse!
snatched from us without a word of warning,
without even a farewell look. I could not at first
believe the fatal truth. No! he could not be gone
for ever he could not thus have left us; and I
clasped my arms around the neck which they
had so often entwined, and pressed my lips to
that dear face, calling him by every fond and
tender name to which my frantic affection could
give utterance; until, exhausted by my agony, I
sank, powerless as an infant, into the arms of my
attendant, and lost, in temporary insensibility,
my sense of the overwhelming affliction that had
befallen me.
Never shall I forget the awaking from that
sleep: the dim, vague recollection of some terrible
event, slowly making itself understood to my
bewildered mind; then, the shudder of intense
agony, with which the fatal truth stood revealed,
and the unutterable pangs which it renewed
in me. No! such a lesson, though only one
among many of those which all must learn, can
never be effaced from the mind.
The shock had produced a nervous fever,
under which I languished for several days, totally
helpless; yet, with a full, an overpowering con
sciousness of the loss I had experienced. Lady
Walsingham never left my bed side. Hers was
the gentle hand that smoothed my pillow, and
gave the cooling beverage to my fevered lip; hers
the sweet voice that whispered mild entreaties
to me to be comforted, even while the tremulous-
ness of its tones betrayed how little she had
acquired the difficult task of conquering her own
grief.
Doctor Warminster attended me through this
AN ELDERLY LADY. 65
malady, with an affectionate interest never sur
passed; all the friendship lie had so long; enter
tained for my lost parent, seemed transferred
to my stepmother and self; and our chief source
of consolation was derived from the assurance
he so frequently gave us, that the life of the
dear departed had been prolonged far beyond
the doctor s hopes, by the calm and cheerful
mode in which it had been passed, owing lo the
indefatigable care, and delicate attentions, of all
those around him.
My poor father had a disease of one of the
arteries of the heart, which had declared itself
soon after my birth; and any sudden or violent
emotion might have produced a fatal result at
any moment. This was the cause of his seden
tary existence and had eventually terminated it;
but the awful fiat found him in readiness to meet
it. For years he knew, that though in the midst
and zenith of life, he might be instantaneously
summoned to leave it; and he prepared himself
for the event with the calmness of a philosopher,
and the resignation of a Christian. Now it was
that 1 first learned that an imprudent disclosure
of his disease, made to my poor mother by Lady
Theodosia Walsingham, shortly after her last
accouchement of a son, who lived but a few
hours, had given her such a shock as to lead to
a total derangement of health, which conducted
her to the grave, in a few months. Dr. War-
minster feared then, that the extreme grief of
my poor father would occasion his death. But
the dying entreaties of my mother, that he would
not give way to regret, but live for their child,
triumphed over the selfish indulgence of his
sorrow; though he never ceased to remember
her, whose dread of losing him, had consigned
her to an early grave.
6*
66 THE CONFESSIONS OF
He determined to do all that could prolong
life for my sake; and, contrary to a resolution
formed over the death-bed of my mother, never
to give her a successor, married to secure me the
society of Miss Melville, when he found it was
considered essential to my happiness. Never was
a husband and father more sincerely mourned,
than was my dear parent; and never did a
human being more deserve to be lamented!
The first time 1 left my room after this
sad catastrophe, my mind softened by grief,
and my frame weakened by illness, I saw
Frederick Melville. He, too, had deeply shared
the general regret, for he was truly attached to
his patron; and the awful suddenness of the
blow rendered it more painful. When he took
my hand his own trembled; and the extreme
palor of my face, seemed to shock him.
" You will not now be cold and distant to me,
Frederick," said I, while tears streamed down
my cheeks, " when I have no longer any one but
my mother and you to love me."
He pressed my hand gently, and assured me,
that he had never felt otherwise than warmly
interested in my happiness; and that I wronged
him, if 1 doubted his affectionate friendship.
These words reassured me for how little does
it require to nourish hope in a youthful breast?
and the softened kindness of his manner, even
still more than his words, tranquillised my feel
ings.
My dear father had bequeathed a handsome
competency to each member of the Melville
family, and a large dower to Lady Walsingham,
who, with her brother, was named my guardian.
The unentailed estates, and personal property to
a large amount, were willed to me, charged with
provisions to the old servants, and a considerable
AN ELDERLY LADY. 67
bequest to good Doctor Warminster. A thou
sand vague hopes sprang up in my mind at finding
I was thus in a manner linked with Frederick
Melville. I was pleased at being, for more than
four years, as it were, dependent on him, and
felt that I would gladly prolong the dependence
for life.
" You are now one of the richest heiresses in
England, my lady," said good Mrs. Mary to me
one day, presuming that her long services licensed
her to be more communicative than English ser
vants generally are. " Your ladyship will marry
some great rich lord, I am sure, and perhaps I
may see you a duchess."
"You will see no such thing, I can tell you,"
answered I, angry even at the supposition. " I
am already rich, and of ancient family. Why,
then, should I marry for the ridiculous purpose
of obtaining that which I already possess ? Why
may I not marry to please myself, and so make
some one 1 love, rich and distinguished ?"
" Lord, my lady, sure your ladyship would
never go to demean yourself by marrying some
one as is not somebody. Every rich and grand
lady likes to marry some one that is richer and
grander than herself, if possible; for then she can
be sure she is married for real love; whereas,
my lady, if she marries some one as is a nobody,
she can never know but what he married her only
because she was a great and rich lady and that
thought would be very vexatious to a woman s
mind."
I stole a glance at the mirror opposite, and the
face 1 there beheld told me that / might hope
to be loved for myself, even though I was a rich
heiress. 1 suppose good Mrs. Mary, who wanted
none of the sagacity of her sex and class, guessed
68 THE CONFESSIONS OF
what was passing in .my mind, for she immedi
ately added,
" To be sure, when ladies are as handsome as
your ladyship, they will always be sure to have
lovers in plenty, even if they had no fortune;
but still, if 1 was a great rich heiress, though ever
so beautiful, I would be afraid to marry a poor
gentleman, from the notion that afterwards the
suspicion would be coming into my head that my
money had some share in making him propose
for me."
Mean and unworthy as this thought was, a
thought that never would have entered my head,
had it not been presented through the medium
of Mrs. Mary, it now made a disagreeable im
pression on me, and I began to think that to be
" a great rich heiress," as Mary called it, was not
after all, so desirable a position as 1 had been dis
posed to think it. How much evil finds access
to youthful minds through conversing with ser
vants; the very best of whom are, by the want of
education, and the narrowness of their ideas,
totally incapacitated from communicating other
than mean and selfish thoughts.
I now began to look on myself as one who
would be an object of general attraction, and I
became inflated with pride; but there was some
thing so peculiarly dignified, as well as gentle,
in the manners of Lady Walsingham and her
brother that no opportunity of evincing this new
defect offered. Nothing could exceed the affec
tionate attention of my stepmother; it seemed
rather increased than diminished since the melan
choly change in our family, as if she would repay
to his child the debt of gratitude she owed to my
father.
The conduct of Frederick was uniformly kind;
but still there was a degree of reserve, if not
AN ELDERLY LADY. 69
coldness, in it, that was far from satisfactory to
me. He had prolonged his stay at the earnest
desire of his sister; but the period now drew near
when he must return to his living, ai.d I counted
the days in \vhich I had yet to enjoy his society,
as those only count them ^ho love for the first
time. Lady Walsingham had a portrait taken
of him by an eminent artist, who succeeded in
rendering it an admirable likeness. The morn
ing on which it was sent home, that desire to
speak of the object of our affection, which is one
of the peculiar characteristics of the passion that
had obtained possession of my young heart,
tempted me to ask Mrs. Mary whether she had
seen Mr. Melville s picture?"
" Yes, my lady, I have; and extremely like it is.
Mr. Melville is a very handsome gentleman,"
(and she looked narrowly at me,) " and much
resembles Lady Walsingham. I was sure her
ladyship would have his picture taken."
" Why so, Mistress Mary?" asked I.
" Oh don t you remember, my lady, how her
ladyship, that is before she was her ladyship, or
perhaps ever expected to be, when she was going
away back to her mother s, had her picture taken
and left with your ladyship?"
"Yes, I remember very well; it was I who
made her sit for it."
" Well, then, my lady, if that picture had not
been made, I think your ladyship would have
got used to Miss Melville s absence; you would
not have had that bad illness; my poor dear
lord would not have taken you down to the
country, nor have married my lady, It all came
of that picture."
And here, good Mistress Mary put on a most
lugubrious countenance, and sighed deeply.
"I shall always rejoice then, at having had
70 THE CONFESSIONS OP
the picture made." answered I, more than half
offended at ihe implied censure Mistress Mary s
observation and sigh conveyed. *< But what can
all this gossiping of yours have to do with Mr.
Melville s portrait?"
" Why, your ladyship must be conscious that
as the brother is as handsome as the sister, some
rich young lady may see the picture; then, per
haps, see him; then, fall in love with, and marry
him; so that he may have as much good luck as
my Lady Walsingham had. r
I felt my cheeks glow at this palpable insinua
tion; I was angry with Mary for presuming to
convey it, and yet, unworthy as I was, I fancied
that the portrait might have been taken with
an intention of keeping his image before me.
Strange as it may appear, I wished Frederick
Melville to love me, ay, passionately wished it;
desired too, that he would demand my hand, and
yet I desired to find in him that consciousness of
the difference between our positions, which should
render his love so timid as to require an act of
heroic generosity on my part, to give him the
hand he fondly aspired to, but dared not demand.
A whole romance was formed in my head, though
as yet I had never perused one; but love is a
magician that can work strange marvels.
While these thoughts were passing in my
mind, good Mistress Mary was fid getting about
my dressing-table, anxious to resume the subject,
vvhich my abstraction had interrupted.
"I would not be at all surprised, my lady/
commenced Mary, "if some rich heiress were
to fall in love with Mr. Melville; for he is
indeed as handsome a gentleman as ever I saw,"
(I felt better disposed towards her,) " and so
sensible and steady too. Well, all I hope is that
if such a thing should happen, it will take place
AN ELDERLY LADY. 71
before he has ever been in love with any one else;
for it s a cruel thing, rny lady, to have either man
or woman crossed in love. And though people
may be tempted by grandeur and riches to give
up their first sweetheart, still they must have an
unhappy mind whenever they think of it: and
some persons do say, but, for God s sake, your
ladyship, don t go for to get me into trouble by
repeating it they do say that Lady Walsingham
broke the heart of as handsome a young gentle
man as any in Sussex, to marry my poor dear
lord."
" Is it possible ?" demanded I, forgetting in
my awakened curiosity the indecorum I was com
mitting, in thus questioning a servant, relative to
the widow of my father, the kindest, truest friend,
save him, I ever knew.
" Oh ! indeed, my lady, it s all true; I saw the
young gentleman myself when we were down
staying at Cuckfield, looking even then as pale as
a sheet, and Mrs. Bateman as keeps the George
Inn, told me the whole story."
" But, perhaps, Mary, Lady Walsingham never
loved the young gentleman you saw, though he
was in love with her."
" Lord, bless your heart, my lady, the whole
village knew as how they were sweethearts, and
engaged to be married, and as loving as two
turtle doves. But when Miss Melville come
to Lonon, and seed this fine house, and all the
grandeur of being a lady, she took to pleasing
your ladyship so much that your little ladyship
couldn t abide no body else; and pleased, too,
his poor dear lordship, as is no more, till he
thought there was no one like her. And then,
when she pleased your ladyship and his lordship
until neither of ye could live without her. then
she gets that beautiful picture taken; and oif she
72 THE CONFESSIONS OP
goes, guessing pretty well, I ll be sworn, that
she d be soon sent for to come back. And so
Mrs. Bateman said, when I told her all about her
pleasing my lord and my little lady so much,
and about the picture/ 7
Mistress Mary s tongue, thus encouraged, ran
on glibly, and I was in no humor to check it.
The truth is, though I blush, old as I am, while
making this avowal, the artful tale, thus related,
had made an impression on me.
"And so, my lady, continued Mary, "Mrs.
Bateman says to me, Mistress Mary, says she,
* it may be all very well for Miss Melville to be
made a countess, and to walk in the coronation
with a gold crown on her head, side by side,
cheek by jowl, as the saying is, with the grandest
in all England. But will that comfort her,
when she knows the green grass is growing over
the grave of her true love, who died all for her
marrying another? Oh! Mistress Mary, says
Mrs. Bateman, / know what it is to cross a
first love, for all you would not think it now,
because I m so changed; but when Mister Bate
man came a courting to me, there was another
lad, a widow s son, with whom I had broken a
tester, and taken many a moonlight walk.
A summons from Lady Walsingham inter
rupted the sequel of Mrs. Bateman s love story,
to the evident discomposure of its narrator, who
appeared unconscious how little interest the ad
ventures of the hostess of the George Inn excited
in my mind.
" 1 sent for you, dear Arabella," said my step
mother, "to consult you about a change I wish
to be made in Frederick s portrait. IHooks too
cold, too severe, and I should like the expression
to be softened. V\ 7 hat do you think ?"
Trifling as this appeal to me was, it bore such
AN ELDERLY LADY. 73
a curious coincidence with Mrs. Mary s obser
vations and surmises, that it struck me as being
a convincing proof of their justice ; and I felt
chilled, if not disgusted, by this seeming cunning.
Wayward and wicked that I was ! to allow the
low suspicions of a menial to prejudice me
against one whose whole conduct towards me
and my father, ought to have left no room in my
breast for aught save implicit confidence and
boundless gratitude ! But such is the inherent
evil of some natures, that an ill founded assertion,
even from an unworthy source, can efface the re
membrance of years of experienced goodness.
" You do not tell me what you think, Arabella,"
resumed Lady Walsingham, as 1 stood, lost in ab
straction.
" 1 like the picture very well as it is at pre
sent," answered I, somewhat coldly, "and your
brother, as a clergyman, ought not to look as gay
as a fine gentleman."
" You mistake, my dear Arabella," rejoined
Lady Walsingham, " I do not wish the portrait
to look gay; that would not be in character with
the profession of the original; but a soft gravity,
that is, a seriousness, devoid of severity, would
please me better."
" Did you ever see so handsome a young man
as your brother, mother?" asked I, urged by an
instinct of irrepressible curiosity; and I looked
steadfastly and scrutinisingly in her face.
She positively turned as pale as marble, faltered
for a moment, and then answered
" Your interrogation is strange; but I did once
know a young man whom I thought quite as hand
some;" and she sighed deeply.
" Who was he, may 1 inquire?" asked I.
" He was a neighbor of ours in Sussex,"
VOL. I. 7
74 THE CONFESSIONS OF
replied Lady Walsingham, " but he is now no
more."
The ashy paleness of her face, ought to have
silenced my unfeeling curiosity: but it did not.
"When did he die, mother? 7 again de
manded I.
" The year I last left my maternal home,"
was the answer; and it was received by me as
* proof strong as holy writ of the truth of all
Mistress Mary s statement.
My stepmother was no longer the pure, the
disinterested, high-minded woman I had from
infancy imagined her to be. She stood before
me shorn of her beams, a cold, calculating, am
bitious person, rending asunder the fond ties of
love, to wed with one she only meanly and
selfishly preferred in consequence of his rank
and fortune. I saw in her, the destroyer of him
who loved her even unto death; and the design
ing plotter, who was now bent on accomplishing
for her brother, the same fortunate destiny she
had achieved for herself. At this moment,
Frederick Melville entered, and for the first
time, I beheld him without pleasure. My mind
was soured, and my imagination chilled, by the
unworthy suspicions that had taken possession
of it. Not that I had determined to resist his
suit, whenever he might proffer it: oh! no, my
affection was too rooted for such an effort of
self-control; though it was not sufficiently strong
or noble, to resist suspicion. But I determined
to torment the brother and sister, for a brief
space, and alarm their cupidity, or ambition, by
the display of an indifference which I was far from
feeling; and. when I had sufficiently tortured
them, I would graciously extend the olive branch,
and bestow on my terrified lover, the hand 1
AN ELDERLY LADY. 75
believed he was passionately longing to possess,
but durst not demand.
How strange is the human heart! here was I,
a woman, and a vain woman, too, who would
have resented with anger any doubt expressed
of the personal attractions I believed mine, now
acting, as if my wealth and station were my sole
charms; yet wanting the self-respect or dignity
that ought under such a belief to have impelled
me to a totally different conduct.
When, however, Frederick Melville took his
leave, without having, by either a look or word,
expressed any thing more than a friendly interest
towards me, I felt deeply mortified; and unbid
den tears, shed in the solitude of my chamber,
proved that though absent, he was not forgotten.
How did 1 now blame myself, for having, as I
imagined, by my coldness restrained the expres
sion of Frederick s attachment. What would I
not have given for one more interview with him,
in which I might, by a renewal of former kind
ness, have elicited some symptom, if not declara
tion of the attachment, of which I so ardently
longed to be assured; and which now, that it was
withheld, appeared doubly essential to my hap
piness. How often did I find my eyes dwelling
involuntarily on the portrait! and yet not half so
frequently as my thoughts reverted to the dear
original. The chairs and sofas on which I had
seen him seated, the inanimate objects that deco
rated the saloons, which I had heard him com
mend, all were now invested with a tender in
terest in my imagination. A rose, which he
had presented to me many months before, 1 had
carefully preserved between the leaves of a book;
and never did a day elapse without my looking
at it, nay more, pressing its faded and withered
leaves to my lips. Ah! none but a woman s
76 THE CONFESSIONS OF
heart can ever feel as mine did then, when in
solitude and silence, occupied solely by one dear
image, 1 created a bright world of mine own, nor
dreamed that he who lent it all its rainbow hues,
would ere long shroud it in sadness and gloom.
Lady Walsingham rarely mentioned her bro
ther s name to me, and when I introduced it,
seemed more disposed to change the topic than
to expatiate on it. But even this reserve on her
part appeared to my prejudiced mind, as the
effect of artifice; and I inwardly smiled at my
detection of it. Yet there were moments, too,
when looking on her fair and open brow, where
candor seemed to have set its seal, that, struck
with her resemblance to Frederick, I longed to
throw myself into her arms, and confess how
dear he was to me. But a sense of modesty,
that guardian angel of female youth, checked
the impulse; and sent me again to the solitude
of my chamber, there to murmur his name, and
breathe those sighs which are half hope, half
prayer, and which never yet emanated but from
a young female heart.
My frequent abstractions and pensiveness,
Lady Walsingham attributed, or seemed to attri
bute, wholly to regret for my dear father. She
would dwell for hours on his virtues, in com
mendation of which she was eloquent; and even
to my prejudiced mind, her praises carried con
viction of the sincerity that dictated them.
The seclusion in which we lived, nourished the
affection that had ursurped rny breast there it
reigned despotic sovereign; and though I deeply,
truly mourned the dear parent I had lost, I
mourned not as those do, who have no engrossing
passion to whisper hopes, that in spite of tender
regret for the past, can make the future bright
and cheering. There is no magician like Love
AN ELDERLY LADY. 77
he had now spread his witcheries around me, and
I saw all, through the brilliant medium of his
spells.
The year of mourning passed slowly away.
We had now been some months without a visit
from Frederick, arid his sister continued the same
system of reserve, avoiding as much as possible
all mention of him. This system increased,
instead of diminishing my attachment: 1 became
pensive, and abstracted, my health began to
suffer, and Lady Walsingham consulted Doctor
Warminster. He, good man, was inclined to
attribute my indisposition to the extreme seclu
sion in which we lived; he advised more air,
more exercise, more society, and dwelt on the
necessity of amusement being taken into our
scheme of cure. Cheerfully, did my affectionate
stepmother enter into all his views, though soli
tude would have been more congenial to her
own taste. Still, 1 did not become better; and
the good doctor began to be alarmed. I observed
that Lady Walsingham and he had frequent
consultations, and that she daily grew more
pensive. She gave up sitting in the room in
which Frederick s portrait was placed, though
that had been, hitherto, her favorite apartment;
and this change I felt as an unkindness, the
motive of which I attributed to a desire of still
more exciting my attachment to him, by thus
seemingly opposing it.
One day, while Dr. Warminster was feeling
my pulse, he suddenly asked Lady Walsingham,
when her brother was to be in town. I felt my
heart throb at the question, and I suppose my
pulse indicated its effect; for the doctor looked
m6re grave than ever, and cast a significant
glance at my stepmother, who answered that she
did not expect him soon. That night while un-
7 *
78 THE CONFESSIONS OF
dressing, I observed that Mistress Mary seemed
big with some intelligence, which she only wanted
a word of encouragement to communicate. Lat
terly, a sense of propriety had induced me to
cheek her loquacity, by avoiding asking her any
questions; but now impelled by a vague curiosity,
1 led her to divulge the news she was anxious to
promulgate.
" And so, your ladyship of course has heard
as how my lady s brother, is soon to change his
condition," said Mary.
Now, strange as it may appear, this figure or
phrase of Mary s, of "changing condition,"
though a frequent and favorite one with per
sons of her class, I had never heard before ; and
imagined it to mean a change of position, or
residence.
"No, indeed," said I, "I have heard nothing
on the subject."
" Well, to be sure, how sly, and secret, some
people can be," resumed Mistress Mary. " Per
haps they think that after all, he may be got to
break his sweetheart s heart, the same as others
broke theirs ; and be the cause of their being
sent to the grave, as that poor young gentleman
in Sussex was. But he is a clergyman, and has
the fear of God before his eyes; and so, will
remain true and constant to his sweetheart, of
which I m glad enough; for, though he is a very
handsome and a very good young gentleman, I
would not like to see a great rich heiress, and a
lady of title too, demean herself by marrying a
poor parson."
" Why, what do you, what can you mean ?"
demanded 1 impatiently.
" Nothing at all, your ladyship, but that the
Rev. Mr. Melville is agoing to be married to a
AN ELDERLY LADY. 79
Miss Laltimer, a great beauty they say, with
whom he fell in love at Cambridge."
I was so wholly unprepared for this intelli
gence, that it fell on me like a painful shock. I
neither screamed, nor fainted, though I felt
nearly ready to drop from my chair; but I be
came so deathly pale, that Mistress Mary grew
alarmed; and poured out a glass of water, of
which I swallowed a portion, saying that I had a
sudden spasm.
I dismissed Mary as soon as possible: for I
longed to be alone, that I might, free from the
restraint of a witness, give way to the agony that
was destroying me.
Never shall I forget that night! when the
rich heiress, the spoilt child of fortune, who
thought she had only to express a wish, to have
it instantly gratified, first discovered that she
loved in vain; that he, on whom she had lavished
all the idolatry of her first affection, preferred
another, and would soon be lost to her for ever.
Fearful was the conflict in my mind, as through
the long night, I counted hour after hour,
sleep still refusing to visit my tear-stained lids.
I wept in intolerable anguish, the destruction of
all my air-built hopes, my fairy dreams of
happiness, my pride, my love, my delicacy, all
rankling beneath the deep wounds inflicted on
them. And he, on whom I doted, even while
I thought, dreamed but of him, he was wholly
occupied by another, totally regardless of me!
There was bitterness, there was agony in the
thought !
Then came the reflection, that I had been de
ceived, yes deceived, and duped; and I unjustly,
ungratefully condemned Lady Walsingham for
not having told me of her brother s love for
another. Now were Mistress Mary s insinuations
80 THE CONFESSIONS OF
explained; Lady Walsingham had long known
of her brother s attachment, and hoped to induce
him to conquer it, and, like her, to sacrifice
love to ambition. How unworthy! and yet
while admitting the cm worthiness, I was weak
enough to wish that her endeavors and hopes
had been crowned with success; and that 1, on
any condition, had become the wife of him I so
fondly, passionately loved. Then came the hu
miliating doubt of my own personal attractions;
a doubt fraught with tenfold chagrin to one who
had hitherto believed herself supremely hand-
tome.
"Oh! why," exclaimed I, in a paroxysm of
tears, * why was I not born beautiful enough to
attract, to win him from my rival ! What avails
my wealth, my station, afid ali the boasted advan
tages I am said to possess, when they could not
attain for me the only heart 1 desire to make
mine; the only being on whom my eyes can
ever dwell with rapture!
JVly mind was in a piteous state, agitated by
various and contending emotions; one moment
governed by jealous rage, and the next, subdued
to melting softness, by the recollections of past
days. Then came the unjust belief, that I had
been deceived, wronged, by my stepmother.
She must have known that he loved another
why then allow me to indulge the dangerous illu
sion that he ever could be any thing to me?
How prone are we to blame others, when we
ourselves only are in fault. I really now felt angry
with Lady Walsingham, and visited on her the
censure that could only apply to myself. J thought
of my dear lost father, and my tears streamed
afresh, when I reflected that had he been spared
to me, how would he have sympathised in this
my first, and cruel disappointment; he, whose
AN ELDERLY LADY. 81
indulgent fondness had ever shielded me from
sorrow. Now was it, that the fatal system of
indulgence, hitherto so injudiciously pursued
towards me, met its punishment; for, in propor
tion to the facility afforded to the gratification of
my wishes up to this period, was the hitterness
with which this disappointment was endured.
The morning found me ill, mentally and
physically ill. My swoln eyes, and pale cheek
alarmed Mistress Mary, and her report quickly
brought my stepmother to my hed-side. To her
anxious inquiries, she met only tears and sullen-
ness; but though evidently surprised at my un
graciousness, it extorted no look or expression of
anger, or impatience from her. Doctor War-
minster was sent for, and he, having adminis
tered a composing draught, seated himself by my
bed-side, to watch its effects. His gentleness
soothed, while it rendered me ashamed of my
own petulance; and in answer to his repeated
interrogatories, I at length admitted that some
thing had occurred to give me pain.
u But why, my dear child, for so you must
permit me to call you, do you evince an unkind-
ness to Lady VValsingham, so unusual, and I
must add, so unmerited. This is not amiable, it
is not grateful, towards one who is so fondly, so
sincerely devoted to you. If you were acquainted
with the total abnegation of self, the uncom
plaining patience, with which your stepmother
has borne the most cruel disappointment that
can befal a female heart, a disappointment where
an aflection of the tenderest nature had existed,
you would, 1 am sure, feel an increased respect
and regard for her; and avoid even the semblance
of ingratitude for the years of solicitude, and
never-ceasing attention, you have experienced
from her."
THE CONFESSIONS OP
"If she have experienced a disappointment of
the heart," answered I, sullenly, "whose is the
fault? Did she not, with cold and calculating
selfishness, break the bonds that united her to the
lover of her choice, in order to become a coun
tess, and to acquire the wealth in which he was
deficient?"
The good doctor s face assumed an expression
of severity, mingled with surprise, that somewhat
moderated the expression of my ill humor.
" Who can have been so wicked, and so unjust,
as to have invented this falsehood, to impose on
your credulity!" demanded he indignantly.
"Was not Lady Walsingham engaged to
marry a young gentleman in Sussex? and did
she not break through her engagement, in order
to wed my father? and did not the poor young
man die in consequence of the disappointment?"
asked I, with the air of one who is convinced of
the truth of what she utters.
"It is true, she was engaged to marry a young
gentleman in Sussex, to whom her affections had
been plighted. But his mother, influenced by the
evil and scandalous reports circulated by Lady
Theodosia Walsingham, insisted on his breaking
off the engagement; and though he, convinced
of the innocence of Miss Melville, was willing,
nay anxious to brave the displeasure of his only
parent, the young lady from a sense of duty,
though fondly attached to him, declined to
become his wife. When your noble, your
generous father, with a view solely to your hap
piness, made her through me the offer of his
hand, she unequivocally declined it; until I
urged that your health, nay, perhaps your life,
depended on her answer. She made your worthy
father acquainted with the real state of her heart;
and he honored her the more for her candor,
AN ELDERLY LADY. 83
while acknowledging that his own affections,
except for his child, were interred with the wife
he had never ceased to love and mourn. A
consumption which was hereditary in the family,
had previously rendered all hope of the recovery
of her rejected lover vain; her acceptance of
his hand could not have retarded his death, and
her union with your excellent father did not
expedite that melancholy event. Lady Walsing-
ham had no reserve with her nohle hushand; he
knew the deep disappointment she had endured,
and the regret she never ceased to feel for the
object of her youthful attachment. Pie was fully
aware, that not to amhition, but to affection for
you, did he owe the hand of Lady Walsingham;
and he honored and esteemed her, for the
exemplary manner in which, concealing every
symptom of sorrow, she devoted her whole
thoughts, her whole time, to her husband and his
child. And this, Lady Arabella, is the person
you could misjudge, and of whom you could
listen to false and evil reports emanating from
some malicious calumniator! I must confess, I am
shocked by the ingratitude you have evinced."
So was I also; and ashamed, as well as shocked.
How did the conduct and motives of my amiable
stepmother thus explained to me, make me
blush for my own! And yet a latent feeling, a
base suspicion, with regard to her reasons for
wishing to engage her brother to wed me, still
lurked in my mind. The good doctor saw that,
though penitent for having believed the tale
against my stepmother, my dissatisfaction had
not yet entirely subsided, though I forbore to
express it.
" I will now, Lady Arabella," continued he,
"give you another proof of the disinterested
conduct of Lady Walsingham. When your
84 THE CONFESSIONS OP
noble father, on your completing your sixteenth
year, aware of the precarious tenure of his exist
ence, and anxious to secure for you a protector,
imagined that Mr. Melville, from his personal
and mental qualifications, might not. he an
unsuitable husband for you, signified his wishes
to Lady Walsingham," (how I felt my heart
beat, and my cheeks blush, at this part of the
good Doctor s discourse!) "her Ladyship imme
diately pointed out the disparity of station and
fortune between you, and her brother; and
urged your claims to a more noble and brilliant
alliance. Lord Walsingham, however, who had
studied the character of Mr. Melville, feeling
persuaded that your happiness might be more se
cure in a union with him, than in a marriage with
one of higher birth, and proportionate opulence,
persevered in his desire of the subject being
proposed to Mr. Melville, by his sister. Well
do I remember the deep regret with which your
good father learned that Mr. Melville s affections
were engaged, to a young and poriionless lady,
the daughter of a clergyman, at Cambridge.
This discovery was made only the last day of
your father s life; and Lady Walsingham, seeing
how much it disappointed her noble-minded
husband, wept for his sorrow; though she could
not do otherwise than respect the disinterested
ness of her brother, in adhering to his first
choice, notwithstanding the great temptation
offered to him."
Now was the delicacy and prudence of my
stepmother s conduct entirely revealed, and the
reserve of her brother explained. And these
were the persons whom I had wronged by my
mistrust! whom I had believed capable of playing
a game to secure me, and my fortune! How
unworthy did I appear in my own eyes, though
AN ELDERLY LADY. 85
my suspicions were happily, as I thought, known
only to myself. Mistress Mary, who had been
the medium of infusing them into my mind, lost
a considerable portion of my favor; for I in
this instance acted with the injustice to which so
many are prone, that of avenging, on the instru
ment of their unworthy curiosity and suspicion,
the blame which they may have incurred, and
almost solely deserve. My vanity too was now
less deeply mortified by discovering that Frede
rick Melville had lost his heart ere I had attained
an age to admit of my being a candidate for it.
How I longed to behold the woman who was
capable of inspiring a passion that could thus
resist the temptation that my poor dear father
had held out. Then came the thought, that
my preference for Frederick Melville had been
detected by the fond eyes of my parent, and that
it was this detection which led to his offering
him my hand. Lady Walsingham, loo, had ob
served the stale of my heart, and tried to wean it
from its first attachment. My soul was pene
trated with a deep sense of the unbounded love
of the parent I had lost, and of the delicacy and
affection of her, to whose care he had bequeathed
me. My sulienness and petulance melted away,
like ice beneath the sun, as I reflected on their
goodness: and 1 was no longer the rich heiress,
who could command love and condescend to
reward it, but the orphan, who was disposed to
be grateful for affection, and once more anxious
to merit it.
The Doctor saw that a salutary change had
occurred in me; and my gentle stepmother was
soon made happy by being permitted to lavish
on me all the demonstrations of that tenderness
which she so truly felt. No word of explanation
ever passed between her and me, relative to my
VOL. I. 8
86 THE CONFESSIONS OP
disappointment with regard to her brother.
With womanly delicacy and tact, she avoided all
semblance of knowing my attachment, though
the softness of her manners indicated a sympathy,
that I was now thoroughly capable of estimating.
When I looked on her still beautiful but pensive
face, and reflected how courageously she had
borne up against the destruction of her youthful
hopes of happiness, I was incited to vanquish
the regret, that, in spite of my best resolves,
still would prey on me. Pride the besetting sin
of my nature, and the most successful adversary
that ever coped with love, came to my aid, and
assisted me, perhaps still more powerfully than
reason, in conquering my girlish passion. To
continue to love one, whose heart was given to
another, was mean, was unfeminine; and I half
vanquished my weakness in feeling it to be one.
Still I heard nothing of Frederick Melville s
marriage. Was it postponed from a fear of my
not being able to support it? There was insult
in the supposition; and I determined to do all in
my power to bring the nuptials to a speedy con
clusion.
Seated, one day, in the drawing-room appro
priated to Lady Walsingham, and in which hung
the portrait of her brother, I made a desperate
effort, and asked her when Frederick was to be
married. She answered, hesitatingly, that the
precise time had never been named.
" Would it not be better, dear mother," said
I, " that the marriage took place at once? Theirs
has been a long attachment, and all who esteem
them must desire to see it rewarded. Would
it not be kind to have a miniature copy made
of Frederick s portrait," and I looked at it with
a steady gaze, " as a nuptial present to his be-
AN ELDERLY LADY. 87
trothed? And, we, dear mother, must send suita
ble gifts to the bride."
All this was said so quietly and naturally, that
Lady Walsingham saw not how much the effort
cost me; but pride instigated it; and what this
despot commands he generally supplies his
votaries with the power of executing. Lady
Walsingham had so little of this leaven of fine
natures in hers, that she now began to think
that she had been in error when she imagined
that I had entertained more than a sentiment of
friendship for her brother; and I did all in my
power to encourage the delusion. She wrote,
therefore, to advise Frederick to have the mar
riage completed; and, at my request, invited the
bride elect and bridegroom, to come to London,
that the ceremony might be celebrated beneath
our roof. I busied myself in preparing wedding
gifts for the bride, and counted the hours until
she arrived. I saw that Lady Walsingham
occasionally feared that 1 was playing a part ;
but so skilfully did I enact it, that at length I
deceived even her.
Miss Lattimer and her father arrived. How
my heart throbbed when I saw her enter ! yet
I had sufficient self-control to conceal every
symptom of agitation, if I could not subdue the
deep emotion. She was exquisitely beautiful.
A Madonna countenance, such as the divine
Raphael loved to paint, in which softness and
modesty lent additional charms to features of the
most delicate proportions, and a complexion of
unequalled brilliancy. But why attempt to de
scribe what a portrait of her, painted at my
request, so much better explains? Here it is;
yet lovely as is the picture, it did not render
justice to the fair original. No longer did I
wonder that Frederick Melville, for her sake,
88 THE CONFESSIONS OP
resisted the temptation offered to him by my
wealth: her beauty alone would have justified
his choice even to the most fastidious critic of
female loveliness ; but her gentle sweetness of
disposition, and unassuming good sense, enhanced
her personal attractions.
When Frederick arrived, no symptom of emo
tion was visible in the frank and cordial greeting
which 1 gave him; while he, imposed on by the
easy cheerfulness of my manner, resumed his
ancient cordiality, and unreservedly manifested,
in my presence, all the tenderness he felt for
his betrothed. The firm resolution to conceal
and vanquish an attachment, is an effectual step
towards the accomplishment of that difficult task:
and the necessity of witnessing the beloved
object s demonstrations of affection for another,
though a painful, is a still more efficacious
remedy.
I accompanied Eliza Lattimerto the altar, and
heard him I loved, plight to her those vows
which 1 once hoped ah ! how vainly hoped
might have been pledged to me; and though this
effort cost me a pang, and a severe one, 1 was
repaid by the salutary effect which this termina
tion of all hope, this positive and eternal barrier
between us, produced. To bestow a thought or
a sigh on him who was now, in the sight of God
and man, and by his own free will and choice,
the husband of another, would have been not
only wicked, but mean ; and I fear pride, more
than reason, or religion, assisted my firm resolve
to subdue every trace of my ill-starred attach
ment.
The new married pair set off for one of my
country seats, to spend the honey-moon; and left
me, if not happy, at least self-satisfied with the
consciousness of having well performed the dif-
AN ELDERLY LADY. 89
ficult role I had imposed on myself. My attach
ment to Lady Walsingham had returned in all
its pristine force. A secret sympathy united
us; and, though never expressed, its influence
was sensibly felt by both. It was perhaps this
bond of union that precluded her from discover
ing the great defect of my character, which was
an ungovernable pride ; or, at least, it might
have prevented her from taking sufficient pains
to eradicate or soften it. Hers was too meek a
spirit to cope with mine: she shrank from op
position, and was more prone to lament errors in
those she loved, or to avoid all occasion of elicit
ing their display, than to exert the necessary
firmness for combating and triumphing over
them.
1 soon saw this sole weakness in her otherwise
faultless character; and availed myself of my
knowledge of it to acquire an undisputed empire
over her. An increased delicacy of health, of
which I had lately shown symptoms, alarmed the
sensitive affection of Lady Walsingham : and
Doctor Warminster, on being consulted, recom
mended that the effect of a milder climate should
be tried for the approaching winter. I eagerly
acceded to the proposal, and in a short time^after,
my stepmother and I, attended by a numerous
suite, left England, for Italy.
I pass over the surprise and pleasure, which
our stay in the French capital, during the first
few weeks, afforded me. I was of an age when
every novelty charms; and I was travelling with
a person whose sole study was to increase my
stock of enjoyments.
While at Paris, we met, at the English am
bassador s, the Marquis of Clydesdale, a young
man remarkable for personal attractions, and
not less so for an amiability of manner and
8*
90 THE CONFESSIONS OF
general information, that rendered his society
peculiarly agreeable to, and universally sought
after, by his compatriots. An expression of
seriousness, amounting almost to melancholy,
pervaded the countenance of Lord Clydesdale,
and, in my opinion, lent it an additional interest;
and an occasional pensiveness and abstraction
detracted not from this feeling. I found myself
unconsciously comparing the countenance of
Lord Clydesdale with that of one still remem
bered, though no longer loved; and I was com
pelled to own, that, for intellectual expression,
that of his lordship possessed the superiority.
The air noble and distinguk, peculiar to, and
only to be acquired by good company, was
strikingly conspicuous in Lord Clydesdale; and
gave a dignified ease to his movements, that im
pressed the beholders with a conviction that he
was no ordinary person.
We had met three or four times after our
introduction, and had only exchanged a few
casual words of common-place civility; until one
day at a dinner at the Ambassador s, happening
to be placed next him at table, we insensibly fell
into conversation. We soon discovered that we
were about to spend the winter at the same place,
in Italy; and this circumstance led to his giving
me many interesting details of that country,
where he had already sojourned some two or
three years before. The originality and justice
of his remarks, and the unpretending frankness
and simplicity with which they were made, im
pressed me highly in his favor. Perhaps they
owed something of their charm, to the handsome
countenance, and dignified bearing of him who
uttered them; for my youthful predilection for
beauty still influenced me, more than I was will
ing to admit, even to myself.
AN ELDERLY LADY. 91
The next day saw the Marquis of Clydesdale
a visitor at our hotel; and each succeeding one
marked the progress of an intimacy that was
gradually formed between us. He lent me books,
conducted Lady Walsingham and myself to the
studios of the different artists of merit, and at
tached himself to us, at the various soirees at
which we met.
I soon became accustomed to his presence; nay,
more, when he was absent I experienced a void
in our circle, that the society of no other man,
however amiable, could fill up. I found myself
impatiently expecting his arrival, at the hour he
was in the habit of coming; and felt my heart
beat quicker as I recognised his well-know step,
or heard the tones of his voice. Those were
happy days! In the course of life there is per
haps no epoch so delightful, as the first hours of
a passion, budding into flower, but not yet full
blown; when hope silences the whispers of doubt,
and security has not destroyed the trembling
anxiety, that lends to love its strong, its thrilling
excitement. I hardly dared to ask myself whe
ther I was beloved; though I was conscious that
my own heart had received an impression that
rendered a reciprocity of sentiment essential to
my peace. Happy in the present, fearing to
anticipate the future, I felt as if in a blissful
dream, from which I dreaded to awaken.
More than one nobleman, of my own country,
had sought to find favor in my eyes, at Paris.
It was in the French capital that I first entered
into general society; for my extreme youth prior
to the death of my dear father, and the seclusion
in which we had lived ever since that melan
choly event, had precluded my presentation at
court,ormy introduction in to the circles in which
iny station and fortune entitled me to take a
92 THE CONFESSIONS OF
place. Consequently, until my arrival at Paris,
I had no opportunity of seeing, or being seen.
My vanity was not a little gratified by ob
serving that I was the principal magnet of attrac
tion, in the re-unions, to which all the English
of distinction flocked. It required some such
balm, to sooth the mortification I had experienced
in my first preference; and though a thought
would sometimes intrude, that perhaps my wealth
was even more seductive, in the eyes of my
admirers, than myself, still my mirror showed
me a face and figure that might, even if unaccom
panied by the powerful adjuncts of broad lands
and funded thousands, have captivated male
hearts. I remarked, and with pain, that as each
suitor approached to win attention, Lord Clydes
dale gave way to them, with the air of a man
who/ having no intentions himself, determined
not to interfere with those of others.
Plow did this conduct, on his part, wound and
pique me! 1 discouraged my admirers, by such a
decided and marked indifference towards them,
that they soon perceived how trifling was their
chance of success; and withdrew, leaving the
field open to Lord Clydesdale, who resumed his
place by me, with an air of satisfaction, but with
no indication of any intention of maintaining it,
against any new pretender to my hand. The
anxiety I now experienced, was far more poig
nant than that which I had known, when
Frederick Melville was the object of my girlish
flame. It was now I began to think that first
love, whatever may be said or sung of it, is not
so arbitrary or durable in its influence, as young
ladies imagine; and that, however unromantic it
may sound, a second love is not inferior in the
hopes, fears, and tenderness, to which it gives
birth. It has only one deterioration, and that is
AN ELDERLY LADY. 93
the humiliating consciousness that it may, like
the former one, subside. Yet, even this con
sciousness, like that of the inevitable certainty of
death, sometimes produces little effect on the
feeling, and as little on the conduct of mortals.
The Due D Entragues, a descendant of one of
the most ancient houses in France, and remarka
ble for good looks, and a certain animation of
manner, and vivacity of mind, peculiar to his
countrymen, which, if it produce not wit, at least,
resembles it so strongly, as often to impose on
those who are not very competent judges, now
paid his court to me. Unlike my English suitors,
he was not to be checked by coldness, or dis
gusted by indifference. The manifestations of
both, which I was not slow in making, as soon as
I discovered that his attentions meant more than
mere polilesse, were received by him as proofs
of the natural gaitckerie of manner, universally
attributed to English ladies, by foreigners. He
was so impressed with a belief of his own fasci
nations, that he could not doubt their effect on
me; and approached me with the air of a man
certain of success, but grateful to the vanquished
for the facility of his victory.
I became provoked by this exhibition of self-
complacency and conceit, and redoubled the
hauteur of my manner. Lord Clydesdale, as
was usual with him, resigned his place by my
side, whenever the Due approached; and this
conduct on his part confirmed the hopes of my
confident admirer. I became piqued and offended
with Lord Clydesdale, and, I fear, often permitted
indications of my displeasure to be visible; but
they produced no change in him, and he still
continued to be a frequent, nay, almost a daily
visitor at our hotel.
One morning Lady Walsingham was surprised
94 THE CONFESSIONS OF
by a letter from the Due D Entragues, requesting
an interview. He came at the appointed hour;
and in a pompous speech, in which, notwith
standing la politesse Fran$aise, he allowed his
sensfe of the honor he was conferring, to be some
what too evident formally demanded my hand.
Lady Walsingham referred him to me; and he
entered the saloon, where I was at work, con
gratulating himself and me, on the agreeable cir
cumstance of not having encountered any resist
ance from Madame ma Mere :
61 Mothers," he added, "being generally de
sirous of preventing their daughters from forming
matrimonial engagements early in life, lest they
should have their seeming age increased by the
circumstance of being prematurely rendered
grandmothers."
I blushed with anger, which he attributed to
mauvaise honie; and attempting to seize my
hand, he poured forth a rhapsody of compliments,
a portion of which he meant for me, but a far
larger part for himself. I could scarcely induce
him to suppress his self-gratulations, in order
that I might explain to him, how misplaced they
were, at least, as far as I was concerned: and the
expression of his countenance became perfectly
ludicrous, as I explicitly, and haughtily gave him
an unqualified refusal.
What! refuse to be a Duchesse, and of one of
the most ancient houses in France? He did not
exactly say this, but he implied something very
like it. Why then had my mother given her
sanction? but, above all, why could 1, as a dutiful
daughter, presume to reject the alliance my
mother had approved. Such a thing never had
been heard of in France, where the hands of sons
and daughters are disposed of by their parents,
AN ELDERLY LADT. 95
without even a reference to the feelings of the
parties most concerned.
It was an amusing scene to behold two people,
under our peculiar circumstances, defending the
customs of their separate countries; the lover, in
the warmth of his defence of the superior wisdom
and propriety of his own national institutions, for
a time losing all sight of the violent passion he
pretended to experience. When, however, he
did recur to it, or rather when he resumed a
repetition of the catalogue of the honors and
advantages which I might inherit as Madame la
Duchesse D Entragues among which, a tabouret
at the chaste court of Louis XV was not omit
ted I, in referring to Lady Walsingham, acci
dentally mentioned the words Belle Mere.
" How !" demanded he, eagerly, " is Madame
la Comtesse de Walsingham not your mother,
your own real mother ?"
"Certainly not," replied 1; " how could it be
possible? she is only twenty-five years old; and
I shall soon be eighteen."
" How very odd," said he, "yes, now that I
remember, though it never struck me before,
Lady Walsingham is not an old woman ; ma
foi, nor a plain one neither. Jiu contraire, she
is good looking: and only twenty-five, did you
not say? C est bien drole, that I never remarked
this before. Permit me to ask whether Madame
la Comtesse has a large fortune?"
I answered in the affirmative, and stated the
amount of her revenue, highly amused at ob
serving the sudden interest excited by my infor
mation in the Due s mind, relative to one whom,
according to his own confession, he had scarcely
even regarded during an acquaintance of some
weeks.
" I never comprehend your English money,"
96 THE CONFESSIONS OP
observed he, thoughtfully; " Six thousand pounds
a year, I think you said ; how much is that in
our money ? How many thousand louis d or
does it make ?"
" You are doubtless, Monsieur le Due, think
ing of transferring the honor meant for me, to my
stepmother."
"Another proof of my homage and tendresse
for you," replied he, bowing low, " when being
so unfortunate as to be rejected by the lovely
daughter, I wish to become in some way or other
connected with her, by addressing my suit to her
amiable relative. Would that you had a sister,
charming Lady Arabella, who at all resembled
you, but who was less cruel;" 7 (and he tried to
look sentimental) "but as, unfortunately you
have not, I must hope for consolation with Ma
rt ci 771 e volre Belle Mere."
Highly diverted by the natural levity, and
assumed sentimentality of my ci-deva n f admirer,
I asked him how he possibly could have believed
that Lady Walsingham could have a daughter of
my age.
"To say the truth," answered he, frankly and
gaily," 1 never thought about the matter. I
heard she was your mother; and we Frenchmen,
when once a lady, and above all an English
lady, has passed her teens, never know whether
she is twenty-four or forty-four; all from your
island are so fair and rosy. However, now that
my attention is called lo the subject, I must
admit that Madame la Gomtesse de Walsingham
is bien, Ires bien, en verite, but the beauty of
Miladi Arabella so far eclipses that of all other
women, that I must be pardoned for overlooking
that of la belle mere. We forget the stars when
the moon is shining, and only remark them when
that bright orb is not visible."
AN ELDERLY LADY. 97
The Due and I parted on more friendly terms
than we had ever met before. His gaiety and
frivolity amused me; and the perfect frankness
with which lie displayed his equal indifference for
her who had rejected him, and for her to whom
he was intending to be a suitor, had something
so irresistibly comic in it, that it was impossible
not to be entertained. When he was leaving the
room, 1 could not repress the desire of telling him
that in case his suit was unsuccessful with my
stepmother, I knew an English lady at Paris who
I thought would have no objection to become
Duchess D Entragues.
"Ah mecliante /" said he, smiling; but, on
observing the gravity I assumed, he returned,
and continued,
" Eh, bien! should I be so unhappy as not to
be accepted by Madame la Comtesse, I will re
member your amiable offer, charming Lady
Arabella, and claim its fulfilment; for, en veriie,
I admire your nation so much, that I am deter
mined to have an English wife"
The Due lost not a moment in laying his
proposals at -the feet, as he gallantly expressed
himself, of my stepmother; who was more sur
prised than gratified by this transfer of his matri
monial intentions. She could scarcely believe it
possible that he could so speedily and unblush-
ingly avow a sentiment for her that little more
than an hour before he had professed to entertain
for me; and he appeared to find it as difficult
to comprehend, that she could refuse his suit;
having nattered himself, from the facility with
which she, as he fancied, received his overtures
for me, that she thought him irresistible.
All the temptations held out to me were re
peated to her, with the additional one, of the
possibility of her rivalling the reigning favorite
VOL. 1. 9
98 THE CONFESSIONS OF
of that day at Versailles, the celebrated Madame
du Barry, and of acquiring an almost regal influ
ence at Court.
The delicacy of Lady Walsingham precluded
her from informing me of this courtier-like in
ducement; but the Due subsequently repeated it
himself to some of my friends, as a proof of the
want of spirit and of ambition of that low-born
Englishwoman. But, what could he expect
from the daughter of a priest the offspring of
sacrilege ? He had not, however, he added,
known this shocking circumstance until after he
proposed, or never would he have offered her
his hand. It was only in such an irreligious
country as England that a priest durst acknow
ledge himself to be a father; or that the daughter
of such an impious source could find a husband.
The Due was in so perfect a state of ignorance
of our religion, customs, and manners, that he
could not comprehend that the ministers of our
church were at liberty to marry; hence he con
cluded Lady Walsingham to be the offspring of
sin and shame.
In two days after his rejection, the fcmme de
chambre of Lady Walsingham, a young English
woman of remarkable beauty, with tears and
blushes, informed her mistress that the French
Due was tormenting her with insulting proposals
and letters. He had accidentally beheld the
pretty Fanny; and, being disappointed in his
offers to the two ladies of the family, addressed
less honorable, but perhaps more sincere vows,
to the maid. She gave his letter to Lady Wal
singham; and 1 begged it of her. The following
is a faithful transcript of it.
" My pretty heart, you have charm me. I
loaf you, and link you much too pretty to be von
femme de charnbre. If you will loaf me, I vill
AN ELDERLY LADY. 99
make you von grande ladi. You shall have von
charmant entre so/, des bijoux, a fe?nrne de
chumbre, and a carriage, and never notings to do
but amuse yourself, and loaf your devoted
"L E Due D E.
" My valet de chambre vil bring me your an-
Vexed as we were at this unprincipled attempt
to corrupt the pretty and innocent Fanny, we
could not resist a smile at the delectable billet-
doux, which made no other impression on her to
whom it was addressed, than indignation.
We quitted Paris in a few days, leaving the
Due D Entragues to look out for new conquests,
and to ridicule the want of taste of English wo
men of all classes. Lord Clydesdale remained at
Paris but a .short time after our departure; and
our next meeting was at Naples. The pleasure
exhibited in his countenance at our rencontre,
again awakened hope in my heart; whence it
had lately been nearly banished, from observing
his avoidance of every thing like marked atten
tion. Our brief separation seemed to have thrown
him off his guard; or, perhaps, it might be, that
knowing the environs of Naples, and witnessing
our desire to explore them, good nature tempted
him to offer himself as our cicerone. No day
passed in which we were not together; and each
one found me still more assured of the deep hold
he possessed over my affections, and less sanguine
of that which 1 longed to obtain over his.
There were so few English travellers, at Na
ples, and the Neapolitans mingled so little with
them, save on occasions of large balls, at which
the English minister had the privilege of present
ing his compatriots, that our habitual circle was
much more circumscribed than at Paris. This
100 THE CONFESSIONS OF
seemed to gratify Lord Clydesdale; and increased
the intimacy between us. We seldom parted at
night without making at) arrangement for some
excursion for the following day; and time flew
with a rapidity known only to those whose hearts
are filled by a passion, which, in presence of its
object, and surrounded by new and exciting
scenery, gives a tenfold power to the wings of
the hoary veteran.
The habitual pensiveness of Lord Clydesdale s
manner seemed gradually to disappear; and to be
replaced by a cheerfulness which, if it amounted
not to gaiety, was more attractive to me. 1 have
remarked that the generality of my sex prefer
those of the other who are of a grave and senti
mental turn; provided always, that the gravity
proceeds not from dulness, but from a reflective
cast of mind, which increases their respect, while
it adds to the interest they experience. I have
known a p;de face and a pensive manner make
impressions on female hearts that had successfully
resisted the attacks of ruddy countenances and
exhilarating gaiety: the possessor of these agre-
mens being more calculated to amuse tha n inte
rest, are rarely remembered when absent. Wo
men seldom forget the man who makes them
sigh; but rarely recur to him who has excited
their mirth, even though a brilliant wit may have
been displayed in his bon mots and good stories.
He, therefore, who would captivate the fastidious
taste of le beau sexe^ must eschew too frequent
smiles, even though he ma} 7 have fine teeth; and
must likewise avoid occasioning or promoting the
exhibition of those pearly ornaments in her he
wishes to permanently please.
The newly acquired cheerfulness cf Lord
Clydesdale, however, gratified me beyond mea
sure, because I attributed it to the effect of my
AN ELDERLY LADY..
iQV
presence on him: and I hailed it as the harbinger
of an explicit acknowledgment of my power, and
a demand for the hand 1 longed to give him; the
heart having already anticipated his solicitation.
While returning from the beautiful and ro
mantic island of Ischia, where we had sojourned
for a few days, and gliding over a moonlit sea,
smooth and polished, as though it were a vast
mirror spread out to reflect the heavens, Lord
Clydesdale first spoke to me of love. Even now,
though age has thrown its snow, not only on my
tresses, but on my heart, that evening is remem
bered, nearly as vividly as if it had lately passed.
Nay! What do I say ? Infinitely more vividly;
for the event-- of recent years seem to me more
vague and indistinct than those of my early
youth. As we approach the grave, our mother s
breast, a second childhood is mercifully granted
us; and we retain only the impressions which
were stamped on the heart by the affections, while
those of reason fade from the brain. Nature
engraved the first; but experience formed the
second. One is felt ; the other has only been
thought.
Yes, even now, in mental vision, I behold
with a clearness to which my dim eyes can no
more assist me, the dark, blue unruffled sea of the
unrivalled Bay of Naples, with the glorious orb
of light, and the thousand brilliant stars reflected
on its glassy bosom. I hear the stroke of the
oars, every movement of which sends forth a
phosphoric effulgence from the surface of the
waters, like a glittering sheet of molten silver. I
hear the plaintive hymn of the peasants returning
in the market boats from Naples; or the gay
barcarole of the fishermen, mingled with the
sounds of guitars and soft voices, that float past us.
I see the island of Procida, in our rear, on the
9*
THE CONFESSIONS OP
left, with Cape Misenum; and on the right, the
fairy island of Nisida rising like an enchanted cas
tle at the touch of some necromancer, from the
bosom, of the deep. Yes, all the scenes are pre
sent to my imagination, with the delicious reverie
to which they gave birth, and the face of him I
loved; on which the beams of the moon shed a
light that increased the intellectual character of
its beauty.
We had been silent some time, each occupied,
or rather abstracted, and softened by the influ
ence of the balmy air of that luxuriant climate,
and the surrounding loveliness of Nature. At
length he spoke
a Such a night and such a scene as this are
rarely granted tons of the cold and sunless north.
There is something soothing, calm, and holy in
its influence; and yet, though sweet and soothing,
it is melancholy too."
His voice was low and musical, and his coun
tenance was in harmony with its tone; for it was
mild, but mournful.
"This repose and beauty of nature," resumed
he, " make one feel increased tenderness for those
dear to us, still spared, with whom we share the
enjoyment: but it also brings back the memory
of those we have loved and lost with whom we
can share it no more. Can you, fair Arabella,
who as yet have known only the cloudless spring
of life, comprehend that while mourning an ob
ject, once inexpressibly dear, and still fondly
remembered, the heart may awaken to another
attachment; may again indulge emotions believed
to be for ever departed; and may dare to hope
to meet sympathy where now all its wishes point?
When I saw you, dear Arabella, I thought I
could never love again; I was so certain that
my heart was dead to that pasMon, and buried
AN ELDERLY LADY. 103
in the early grave of her who first taught it to
throb with tenderness, that I fearlessly trusted
myself in the dangerous ordeal of your society.
I found 1 was in error; such attractions have
proved their irresistible empire; and I love you,
truly, tenderly. May I indulge a hope that you
will be my sweet consoler for past disappoint
ment and sorrow; and that you will teach this
care-worn heart to forget all but you ?"
He paused, and I was speechless from emotion.
At length, then, the certainty of knowing myself
beloved was mine ! a certainty that, previously to
its existence, would, I fancied, have conferred
unutterable happiness upon me. Did it now
produce this etFect! Alas! No! The felicity
such a conviction would have bestowed was de
stroyed by the mortifying fact of ascertaining that
he had loved another; that the bloom and fresh
ness of a first passion could never be mine; and
that I inspired only a second, perhaps a much
less fervent affection than my predecessor had
excited in the heart, where I wished to have
reigned alone! Severe was my disappointment,
as jealousy aye, jealousy of the dead shot its
envenomed arrows through my heart
I could have wept in very bitterness; but
shame, womanly shame, checked this exposure
of the secret feelings of my soul; and silent and
trembling 1 almost feared to trust myself with
words.
" You answer me not, dearest Arabella," re
sumed Lord Clydesdale, his voice -tremulous
with emotion. " Have I then deceived myself in
thinking that I might hope to create an interest
in that gentle heart?"
Tears involuntarily filled my eyes; I longed
to, but dared not tell him that my silence pro
ceeded from no want of the sentiment he de-
104 THE CONFESSIONS OF
sired to create but, alas! rather from an excess
of it, which rendered me wretched at the know
ledge that he had loved before. A thought of
rejecting his suit now that I found with what
bitter feelings an acceptance of it would be ac
companied crossed my mind; but I turned
affrighted from the contemplation of banishing
from my sight, the only being whose presence
was necessary to my happiness. No! I would
accept the portion of his heart that might still be
mine 1 would deign to occupy a small niche
in that temple, dedicated to the worship of the
dead. I, proud and haughty as 1 Was, would try
to be satisfied with the ashes of a fire which
another had kindled; but even this humiliation
was less painful than to lose him altogether.
These thoughts passed rapidly through my mind.
The misery of years was compressed into the
brief period which had elapsed since his avowal
of affection; and already my heart had grown
old in suffering. I gave him my hand, for I
could not speak; and he pressed it fondly to his
lips, while he murmured words of tenderness,
which soothed, though they did not satisfy, the
demon jealousy that was writhing within my
tortured breast. Had any one told rne that I
should thus feel when first assured of his pre
ference, how would I have denied the possibility!
Tears I might have believed would flow; for
joy and grief declare themselves by this dew of
the heart: but I would have asserted that mine
would be tears of joyful tenderness, of grateful,
softened happiness. What were they now? The
waters of bitterness, springing from a fountain
newly opened in the soul, and never again to be
sealed, except by death.
Before we separated on that eventful night,
he asked permission to inform Lady Walsing-
AN ELDERLY LADY. 105
ham that I had not rejected him. The very
terms he used softened me; for they indicated
that lie had remarked, that my manner of re
ceiving his suit was more like a non-rejection
than a positive acceptance of it; a delicate and
discerning homage that gratified my sensitive
ness.
Never did hermit or philosopher reflect more
on the disappointments that await the hopes of
mortals, than did I, through the long and sleep
less night which followed Lord Clydesdale s
declaration of love: that declaration which I
fancied was to have conferred unmingled felicity.
As the whispered words of tenderness he had
breathed in my ear were recalled, the recollec
tion that similar words had been poured into the
ear of another, came to torment me. The soft
glances of love with which he sought to meet
my eyes when urging his suit, had been often
fixed on another, perhaps a fairer and dearer
face; and the gentle pressure of his hand had
often been felt by one who had enjoyed all the
bloom and freshness of his first affections. Had
he ceased to love her? that he had not ceased
to remember and mourn her, he had confessed;
and now my fond and fervent affection was to be
repaid by the comparatively cold and languid
one of a disappointed and exhausted heart.
And yet there were moments in which my
better feelings prevailed moments in which I
pitied the sorrow he had endured, and almost
determined to sacrifice my selfish regrets, and
devote my life to his happiness. Yes, 1 would
be the soother of the traces left by past grief;
and the creator of new hopes, new blessings. I
would generously stifle my own disappointment
in pity to his; I would question him on all that
he had endured, identify myself by the force of
106 THE CONFESSIONS OF
my sympathy with his mournful recollections of
her he had lost; and teach him gently, gradually,
to forget her, in his devoted attachment to me.
How ardently did I long to hear every particular
connected with his former passion. Was the
object beautiful ? How strange is the human
heart ! My vanity led me to wish that she had
been fair in no ordinary degree ; for there is
something peculiarly humiliating to a woman
vain of her own pretensions to beauty, in be
coming the successor of a plain one, in the af
fections of a husband. And yet I had a latent
dread, that if she had been as lovely as I was
disposed to imagine her, the recollections of her
attractions might eclipse the reality of mine. In
short, my ill-governed mind was in such a state
of morbid excitement, that I scarcely knew what
I desired. Only one sentiment stood promi
nently forth above all others, and that was dis
appointment deep and bitter disappointment,
arising in the consciousness that all the wild and
fond illusions of love, which I wished him whom
I adored to have entertained for the first and only
time for me, he had already experienced. Then
came the thought, that I too, had loved before;
and yet in this my second attachment, none of
the fond illusions that characterised the first were
wanting.
There was some comfort in this recollection;
until it was followed by the painful one, that my
first affection, having been unpartaken by him
who inspired it, had never been cemented by the
thousand nameless but powerful associations that
only a mutual tenderness can bestow. Mine
was nothing more than a mere girlish fancy,
never matured by sympathy, or rendered indeli
ble by reciprocity. I forgot in the excitement
of the actual present, all the sufferings of the
AN ELDERLY LADY. 107
less vivid past. The waking dreams, sleepless
nights, and tear-stained pillow, were all forgot-
teH; and the passion which, while it existed, 1
had believed to have been as violent as inde
structible, was now considered to be nothing
more than an evanescent preference. Strange
infatuation! the repetition ot which has induced
some mortals, with susceptible feelings, to regard
their hearts as plants, that, though subject to the
laws of nature in casting off their leaves at cer
tain periods, can always put forth fresh shoots,
and bloom again as genially as before. I even
excused the intensity of my present sentiments
over those of my past, by the superiority of the
object which had given them birth. The graceful,
the dignified Lord Clydesdale, with his noble air
and polished manners, cast into shade the hand
some person, but grave and simple demeanor, of
Frederick Melville. Nay, 1 now wondered how
1 ever could have been captivated by him, and
smiled at my own delusion.
Such are some of the incongruities of that al
most inexplicable enigma a woman s heart.
When Lady Walsingham congratulated me
next day on the prospect of happiness that now
opened to me, and expressed her warm appro
bation of my suitor, 1 could scarcely restrain my
tears; and I looked so little joyous on the occa
sion, that she positively imagined she had been
in error in supposing that Lord Clydesdale had
interested my feelings. Little did she know the
tumult to which my mind was a prey at that
moment! for though I had so often experienced
her sympathising kindness, a latent sentiment, it
might be vanity, or shame, or both, prevented
me from avowing my real sentiments.
When Lord Clydesdale came, the increased
tenderness and animation of his manner re-
108 THE CONFESSIONS OP
assured me. The solicitude with which he
marked my pallid cheek and svvoln eyes, was so
apparent, that hope whispered that Jove alone,
could have excited such interest. I longed, yet
feared, to question him of the past, when we were
alone. I dreaded to revive an image in his recol
lection, which I desired, oh! how anxiously de
sired, might be banished from it forever; and yet
the thought of her whose memory 1 dreaded to
recall, was so predominant in mine, and filled
me with such painful emotions, that I felt that I
could have no peace until he should have reposed
in my breast the mournful tale of his former
attachment. Often did the question hover on my
lips; and as often did it die away, without my
being able to frame words that would elicit his
confidence without betraying the secret jealousy
which was torturing me. There is a conscious
uriworthiness in jealousy, which, if the victim be
proud, makes her shrink from its exhibition.
I felt this powerfully, and added to it, was the
dread of forfeiting his esteem, by the display of
this egotistical passion. I am now surprised
when I reflect on the duplicity with which I
affected a strong sympathy in his regret for her
he had lost; and still more surprised, when I
remember how completely he was the dupe of
this pretended sympathy. His love forme seemed
positively to have been increased tenfold, by the
interest I evinced in the fate of my predecessor.
My generosity, so superior, as he said, to that of
the generality of females, delighted him.
How little did he know the heart of woman!
For though there may be many who might be
gentle enough to regret an unknown individual
of their own sex, who is represented as having
gone down young, beautiful, and good, to an
early grave, while yet love and hope would fain
AN ELDERLY LADY. 109
have bound her to earth, few have sufficient self-
control to conquer her jealous emotions, while
listening to the recapitulation of the perfections
of the lost one; or the grief her loss had excited
in the breast of the object of her own affection.
A man precludes a similar confidence from the
woman he loves, by openly displaying his total
want of sympathy, in any allusion to previous
attachments, even should a woman be so devoid
of tact as to make them; while we of the softer
sex, though pained to the heart by such dis
closures, shrink from checking them, though they
are hoarded in the memory, to be often dwelt
upon, but never without pain.
This peculiar dislike to the belief of a lover
ever having before experienced the tender
passion, has been often ascribed to vanity; but I
believe it originates in a delicacy less repre
hensible, and consequently more entitled to
commiseration. Devoid of refinement and deli
cacy must that woman be, who, having accepted
a suitor, entertains him with lamentations for,
or descriptions of, the one who preceded him:
like the lady, who, when married a second time,
dwelt so fondly and perpetually on the merits of
her poor dear first husband, that she compelled
his successor to declare, that however much she
might regret the defunct, he still more truly
mourned his death. It is this indelicacy that led
a man, who knew human nature well, to assert
that a man should never marry a widow, however
attractive, whose first husband had not been
hanged; as that ignominious catastrophe fur
nished the only security for her not continually
reverting to him.
But to resume the thread of my narrative:
no day elapsed, that Lord Clydesdale did not
inflict a jealous pang on my heart, by some
VOL. I. 10
110 THE CONFESSIONS OF
unconscious reference to past times; until at last
my apparent sympathy lured him into - a more
explicit disclosure of his feelings; and he related
the story of his first love.
It was a simple one; but the intensity of his
emotion in repeating it, the warmth with which
he dwelt on the personal and mental charms of
her he had lost, wounded me to the soul. Yet,
though writhing under the infliction, I so
skilfully concealed my Bufferings, that he was
the dupe to my affected interest about one to
whose death alone I owed his present affection.
There is a great though secret pleasure in
talking of any former attachment, that has not
been dissolved by circumstances humiliating to
vanity. Those broken by inconstancy are sel
dom recurred to, because they are mortifying
to self-love. But to dwell on a love that ended
but with life, and to repeat incidents strongly
indicative of the force of the attachment of the de
ceased, is one of the greatest, though apparently
the least, egotistical gratifications to which our
amour propre can have recourse. One can repeat
how well she loved him, in a thousand varied
ways, without shocking the ears of the confidant,
by his self-eulogiums,- yet each of these examples
of the passion that has been felt for the narrator,
may be considered as indubitable proofs of his
attractions and merits.
Lord Clydesdale s first love was a young and
fascinating creature, born with the germe of a
disease, that seems ever to select the fairest ob
jects for its prey. Consumption, which, like the
Pagans of old, adorns its victims for the sacrifice,
had rendered the beauty of the youthful Lucinda
Harcourt still more dazzlingly bright. The
hectic of her cheek, the lustre of her eye, and
the deep vermillion of her lips, those sure and
AN ELDERLY LADY. Ill
fatal symptoms of the destroyer, which like the
canker-worm in the rose, feeds on its core while
the external petals still wear their fresh hue,
were, considered by her lover, as charms pe
culiarly her own, and not as indications of
incipient disease. Even in relating her lingering
illness, and mournful death, he seemed uncon
scious that she fell a prey to a malady hereditary
in her family, and to which her mother owed her
death in the bloom of youth. No, with the
delusion inherent in mortals, which ever seeks,
even in misfortune some salve from vanity, he
attributed the untimely death of the fair Lucinda
to the unwonted agitation produced by the exces
sive attachment, with which he had inspired her
youthful breast; and the anxiety attending the
period, previous to his formal demand of her
hand; for it appears that he had, though deeply
smitten, taken a considerable period to reflect,
before he proposed for her. He spoke in such
panegyrics of the transparency of her complexion,
and the sylph-like fragility of her form, that I
almost longed to possess these infallible symp
toms of disease; as I dreaded his comparing my
healthful but less attractive bloom, and rounded
figure, with the evanescent charms he so raptu
rously described.
"Have you no picture of her?" asked I,
trembling, lest he should draw forth from his
breast, a treasured miniature carefully concealed
from prying eyes.
" Yes," replied he, " I have an admirable re
semblance of her, which you shall see, and which
has never left my breast since I lost her, until
you, fair and dear Arabella, listened to my suit."
I inv9luntarily placed my hand within his, at
this acknowledgement ; for I felt grateful for the
delicacy of the renunciation of the portrait. Nay,
THE CONFESSIONS OF
in consideration of it I almost forgave the warmth
of his praises of her; for, slight as the circum
stance was, it made a great impression on me.
The next clay, he brought the miniature, and
though I had been prepared to expect beauty of
no ordinary kind, I confess that the extreme
loveliness of the portrait surprised ay, and shall
I own the truth ? displeased me. If I had pre
viously indulged a jealousy of the fair Lucinda,
what were my jealous pangs now, that I beheld
the radiant beauty of her face? The artist had
caught the almost seraphic expression of her
countenance, that fine and elevated expression,
where the purity of the angel seems to have
already descended on the suffering saint. It
wanted only a halo round the head, to be one
of the best personifications of a martyred saint
ascending to heaven; and I, even /, could not
repress the tear that fell on the crystal that
covered it, though the source whence it sprang
was not free from alloy.
This apparent sympathy, while it rendered
me dearer to Lord Clydesdale, lured him into a
still more frequent recurrence to the object of
his first love. He judged more favorably of
me than I deserved, in imputing to me a free
dom from that envy, and jealousy, from which
so few of my sex are exempt; and I had not
courage to risk the forfeiture of this good opinion,
by acknowledging how little it was merited.
Had 1 avowed my weakness, how much unhappi-
ness should I not have escaped! But no, pride,
the most dangerous passion which can approach
love, forbade it; and I yielded to its unwise sug
gestions.
It was agreed between Lord Clydesdale and
myself, that our marriage should not take place
until our return to England. But as we were
AN ELDERLY LADY. 113
considered affianced, we spent the greater part
of every day together; and each day seemed
to cement our mutual affection, as we drew
plans for the future, and built castles in the air.
Life is at best but a shadowy scene, some charm
of which vanishes every day; the actual enjoy
ments, few and far between, often poisoned by
untoward circumstances, or followed by painful
regret. Are we not then wise, in creating for
ourselves the innocent pleasure of fancy build
ing? where Hope, the syren, helps to erect the
structure, and almost cheats Reason into believing
the possibility of its completion. Those were
indeed blissful days ! when beneath the blue skies
of genial Italy, and wandering by the as blue
waters of the Mediterranean sea that mirrored
them, the balmy air of the delicious climate of
Naples, made its influence known by exhilarating
our spirits, and diffusing its softness over our
feelings. And yet the bliss was not unalloyed !
When was that of mortals ever so? though each
believes himself worthy of happiness, and likely,
if not sure, to attain it.
The more tenderness Lord Clydesdale seemed
to evince, and the more warmth I myself expe
rienced, the more susceptible did I become of
the assaults of the fiend jealousy ; each successive
attack lacerating my heart more cruelly. Every
- allusion to the lost Lucinda tortured me; and yet
I had myself at the commencement encouragecl
these allusions. Now that 1 believed myself
beloved, and felt with what passionate tenderness
1 repaid the affection of Lord Clydesdale, a
recurrence to his former passion appeared an
insult, and an injustice, that I was disposed tQ
resent with an anger that required the exertion
of all my reasoning powers to subdue.
At length I took courage, and asked him to
10*
114 THE CONFESSIONS OP
let me have the portrait of Lucinda. He looked
surprised hesitated ; and then demanded why
I wished to possess it ? I acknowledged that I
considered it so exquisitely beautiful, that while
it remained in his keeping 1 should always dread
his contemplation of it might elicit comparisons
highly disadvantageous to my own inferior at
tractions. This avowal drew from him some of
those praises peculiar to love, which, however
exaggerated, are never unacceptable; and he
yielded the portrait, though with reluctance, on
my solemn promise that it should be carefully
guarded and considered a sacred deposit.
The possession of this long coveted treasure
soothed and calmed the demon in my breast for
many days; yet each time I gazed on it, the
angelic softness and beauty of the countenance
reillumined the nearly extinguished spark of
jealousy in my mind. 1 have, after contemplating
it long and attentively, sought my mirror, and
tried to think the image it reflected was not so
very far inferior to this captivating picture, as
jealousy whispered it to be. But, alas ! not all
the suggestions of vanity could blind me to the
immeasurable superiority of the countenance of
Lucinda, that dead rival, who in her grave, as I
fancied, still triumphed over me. It was true,
my finely chiselled features and the perfect oval
of my face might have contested with her the
palm of beauty; but the expression oh! how
infinitely did mine fall short of hers! I forgot
in contemplating my own countenance that the
baleful passions of envy and jealousy which per
vaded my heart at that moment, lent their disfi
guring influence to my face. No wonder, then,
that 1 was conscious of the vast difference between
a physiognomy, expressive only of a heavenly
AN ELDERLY LADY. 115
calm, and that in which worldly and sinful feel
ings were delineated.
The sunshine produced by my lover s re
nunciation of the portrait had made itself mani
fest many days; when, one luckless evening,
while seated on the balcony of the Palazzo we
inhabited, and engaged in that dreamy, tender
conversation into which lovers are prone to fall,
on my expressing some doubt of the depth and
devotion of his love, he passionately seized my
hand, and exclaimed,
" Yes, adored Lucinda! Arabella I would
say "
" You need not complete the sentence," inter
rupted I, coldly; " it is but natural that the
name of the object which is most dearly treasured
in your memory should sometimes escape from
your lips."
" This is unjust and cruel, Arabella," said he;
"you know, or ought to know, how inexpressibly
dear you are to my heart, when all its feelings,
all its regrets, have been bared to your view.
Why have you deceived me by an apparent
sympathy, if you could not bear with an occa
sional, an involuntary recurrence to the past?"
The gentleness of his reproach, which had so
much more of sorrow than of anger in it, dis
armed my displeasure. I felt ashamed of my
petulance, and had an instinctive presentiment
that by this selfish ebullition I had forfeited some
portion of his esteem.
" I should be unworthy of your affection,
dearest Arabella," resumed he, " were I capable
of deceiving you by asserting that I ever could
banish the memory of her who in life was so
beloved. But that memory, mournful though
it be, precludes not the fondest, truest affection
for you. Nay, you should consider the constancy
116 THE CONFESSIONS OF
of my attachment to one in her grave, as a gage
of that which shall bind me to the only being on
earth who could console me for her loss."
I refused not the hand he now pressed to his
lips; a few kind words and gentle tears on my
part marked our renewed amity, and we parted
that night as lovers part after a reconciliation
of their first misunderstanding; for the harsh
name of quarrel I could not give it.
But, though we met in fondness next day,
and every day for many weeks, confidence was
banished between us. The name of Lucinda, or
any reference to her, never escaped his lips; but
this self-imposed silence and constraint tortured
me more than his former lavish praises or tender
regrets had ever done. The demon jealousy
whispered, that though the name was banished
from his lips, her image had become more
tenaciously fixed in his heart; and that an opinion
of my selfishness and want of self-control had
led to this reserve and increased seriousness on
his part This conviction haunted and goaded
me; yet I dared not trust myself to utter a word
of it to him. I feared to sink still lower in his
estimation, or to be hurried into some expression
of harshness that might lead to a serious mis
understanding, perhaps a rupture; and such a
result, even in moments of the greatest mental
excitement, I dared not contemplate, so warm
and fervent was my attachment to him.
How narrowly, and with what lynx eyes, did
I examine his countenanance every day when we
met. A shade of sadness on his brow, or an in
voluntary sigh, angered me, they were received
as incontrovertible proofs that his thoughts were
on my dead rival.
Our tete-u-tetes were no longer marked by
that outpouring of the soul, that boundless con-
AN ELDERLY LADY. 117
fidence, which had formerly existed between us;
and both were conscious of this change, though
anxious to conceal it from each other. His
conversation now referred wholly to the future;
he avoided all reference to his past life, as if it
had been stained by some crime of deep die; and
I felt as if there was a gulf between us that
is, between our souls communion. The con
sciousness of this gulf having been created
by my own waywardness, added to the bitter
ness of my feelings; I became silent and ab
stracted; and though he was never ceasing in
his attentions, the sense of our mutual constraint
now robbed them of their greatest charm in my
estimation.
It was at this period that Sir Augustus Fau-
conberg, an intimate friend of Lord Clydesdale,
arrived at Naples. He established himself in the
same hotel with him, and was presented to us.
He was one or two years senior to Lord Clydes
dale, and remarkably good looking, accomplished
and agreeable. His presence was a relief to us
all; for his vivacity, though finely tempered by
good breeding, never failed to enliven those with
whom he associated. A short time before, I
should have considered the presence of a stranger
in our limited circle as an unwelcome interrup
tion to the frequent t^te-a-teles I enjoyed with
my affianced husband; for Lady Walsingham de
voted much of her time to feminine occupations,
and left us much alone; but now, those tete-h-
teles had lost their chief attraction. The chain
of love si ill bound us, but the flowers that
wreathed and concealed its links had, one by
one, withered and dropped off. Neither of us
wished for freedom, nor dared anticipate division,
but all the sweetness of love had departed; we
118 THE CONFESSIONS OF
were not happy together, and yet we dreaded to
try if we could support separation.
One evening I had remarked, with anger,
blended with sorrow, that Lord Clydesdale ap
peared to be more than usually depressed. In
stead of soothing him by kindness, I maintained
a sullen silence; and even when he bade us adieu
for the night, I returned net the pressure of his
hand, but suffered mine to remain cold and pas
sive within his grasp, as if it had been a lifeless
substance.
My heart reproached me for this unldndness
during the night; and I made good resolves for
the coming day. Indeed, so salutary were my
reflections, that I determined henceforth to con
quer my waywardness; and by resuming my
former confiding tenderness, win back his.
I longed, impatiently longed, for his visit; I
counted the hours that must intervene before the
arrival of that which usually brought him to our
Palazzo ; and attired myself with more than my
accustomed care, that I might appear more attract
ive in his eyes. 1 seemed to awake from a dis
agreeable dream; and the recollection of my own
too frequent fits of silence and sullenness, to
which his forbearing gentleness, and constant
affection, formed a striking contrast, rose up to
reproach me. Yes, 1 would amply repay him
for all my past suspicions and unkindness, and
never more give way to them. In this frame of
mind I left my chamber. My mirror told me,
that never had I looked more attractive. I had
attired myself in his favorite colors, wore a brace
let and ring, his gifts, and, with a throbbing heart,
awaited his coming.
Hour after hour elapsed, and he appeared not;
a thousand vague forebodings of evil haunted me
I could settle to no occupation, but kept con-
AN ELDERLY LADY. 119
tinually walking on the balcony that overlooked
the street by which he must approach, in order
to catch a glance of him.
At length, Lady Walsingham entered the sa-
loori ; and observed that, she had thought Lord
Clydesdale was there. When informed that I
had not seen him, she appeared really uneasy;
for, though she then mentioned not the report to
me, she had that morning heard that an epidemic
disease had, during the last few days, been making
great ravages in the town ; and, consequently,
coupled his unusual absence with this startling
intelligence. A servant was instantly despatched
to the hotel where Lord Clydesdale resided, to
inquire for him : and my fears were excited, and
Lady Walsingham s confirmed, by the informa
tion that Lord Clydesdale had not left his cham
ber that day.
" But here, my lady," said our servant, " is a
letter which the porter forgot to send your lady
ship; and which ought to have been delivered
this morning."
To break the seal and devour the contents of
this billet, was the work of a moment. A few
lines stated, that a slight indisposition would
confine the writer to his apartment for that
day, but that the next would see him at our
Palazzo. An air of constraint pervaded this
note, which 1 instantly attributed to his desire
of concealing the extent of his malady. My
heart died within me as the idea of his danger
presented itself to my mind; and ardently did I
wish that I were his wife, that I might have
the privilege of watching over his sick couch,
as love only can watch. I magnified his danger
until the most painful images were conjured up
to my terrified imagination. I fancied him ill
and 1, though his betrothed, precluded,
120 THE CONFESSIONS OF
by the usages of the world, from alleviating
his sufferings, or receiving his last sigh. How
impatiently did 1 writhe under these bitter
thoughts! how execrate my own folly, for
ever having annoyed him by my petulance, or
wounded him by rny selfish and wayward jea
lousy! What resolutions, instigated by "the late
remorse of love," did I form, never again, should
it please Heaven to restore him to me, to give
him cause for reproach or chagrin. Yes, 1
would conquer my own feelings, and attend
solely to his. Though aware how deeply, how
tenderly I was devoted to him, I knew not until
the thought of his danger took possession of me,
how wholly, how passionately my soul doted
upon him!
I threw myself into a bergere, and covering
my face with my hands, wept in uncontrollable
anguish; heedless of the attempts at consolation,
made by my tender and true friend Lady Wal-
singham. She was suggesting the expediency
of sending an English physician to Lord Clydes
dale, when the door of the apartment was thrown
open, and Sir Augustus Fauconberg entered.
"Tell me, I entreat you, tell me how he is?"
I exclaimed, reckless of betraying my tearful
agitation. He hesitated and looked aghast.
This conduct verified my fears.
" I am prepared for the worst," resumed I;
" I see his danger in your face; it is confirmed
to me by your hesitation. Let me, I implore
you, hear it at once, or this suspense will de
stroy me."
" I really do not comprehend," replied he
with a face of astonishment. " Who is ill, or in
danger? for I am not aware that.. any indi
vidual in whom we lake an interest is in that
predicament."
AN ELDERLY LADY. 121
I viewed this speech as a good-natured subter
fuge, used to avoid declaring the real state of
the case; and it almost maddened me. Lady
Walsingham observing me to be incapable of
articulating another word, so overpowered was
1 by my feelings, here interposed; and stated that
we had heard that Lord Clydesdale was confined
to his chamber by indisposition.
" I assure you I was totally ignorant of it,"
answered Sir Augustus; " but the truth is. 1
told Clydesdale last night that I intended to
proceed to Sorento to-day with some friends of
mine, so that he believes me gone. They
changed their plans, and, as I had risen early, 1
have been making an excursion in the environs.
Still, I think there must be some mistake, for
I saw Clydesdale s valet de chambre this morn
ing, and he said nothing of the circumstance."
k< It is, nevertheless, I fear, but too true,"
replied Lady Walsingham; "for Lady Arabella
received a note from Lord Cl} 7 desdale t which,
though it makes light of his indisposition, refers
to it as the cause for not coming here to-day."
" When did the note arrive?" demanded Sir
Augustus.
" Only a short time before you entered."
" And Lady Arabella has received no other
note from Clydesdale?"
" No other," answered I, still weeping.
"It is strange," resumed Sir Augustus; "for
I saw Clydesdale write you a note last evening,
and heard him give orders that it should be sent
to your palazzo early in the morning."
" And was he then in perfect health?" asked
Lady Walsingham.
< Most certainly," replied Fauconberg; " but
rather more serious than usual, which 1 attri
buted to the recollection that this day was the
VOL. I. 11
122 THE CONFESSIONS OF
second anniversary of the death of a person once
dear to him; every recurrence to whom his
friends avoid, knowing the subject to be fraught
with pain to him."
In an instant, my tears were dried; the burning
blushes of shame and anger, that suffused my
cheek, seemed to effect this operation; and the
fiend jealousy awoke in my breast, to renew the
infliction of a thousand pangs. So, while. I reck
less of observation, exposed my love and anguish,
at the bare thought of his danger, to the gaze of
others, he, having voluntarily excluded himself
from my presence, was weeping over the memory
of another love, and leaving me to endure all the
alarm and wretchedness which his acknowledge
ment of indisposition could not fail to excite.
The subterfuge too, of affecting illness it was
unworthy it was base! The whole current of
my feelings became changed. Such conduct was
not to be borne. No, I would, whatever the
effort might cost me, break with him forever;
and his friend, Sir Augustus Fauconberg, who
had been a spectator of my weakness, when I
believed him ill, should now be a witness of
the firmness with which I could eternally resign
him.
Such were the thoughts that fiitted through
my troubled brain, making my temples throb,
and my heart s pulses beat in feverish excite
ment. I silenced every whisper of love, every
dictate of reason. Pride, ungovernable pride,
and indomitable jealousy, now took entire pos
session of my heart, banishing every gentle and
feminine emotion. If, a short time before, while
suffering agonies at the bare notion of my lover s
illness, any one had told me that the assurance
of his being well could fail to convey to me the
most ecstatic joy, I should have pronounced the
AN ELDERLY LADY. 123
fulfilment of the prediction impossible. There
is nothing to which I would not have cheerfully
submitted to have had this blissful assurance.
But now it only gave me torture, and excited
rage. Such are the revolutions to which evil
passions can lead those who are so unfortunate
as to submit to their empire !
I sought my chamber, and giving way to my
wild and wrathful impulse, seized a pen, and
wrote to Lord Clydesdale to declare that I con
sidered our engagement at an end. I stated
that my determination was irrevocable, and that
any attempt to change it would be as unavailing
as offensive to me.
I despatched this ill-judged and intemperate
letter, proud of this supposed conquest over
self, this triumph of my evil nature over my
better. 1 would not wait for a calmer moment,
lest my heart might relent, and be disposed to
pardon him, who was still dear to it. No, while
mourning a dead mistress, he should have cause
to grieve for a living one; and I was obdurate
enough to take a malicious pleasure in thus over
whelming him with a new affliction, while he
was meditating on a former one.
I never reflected that the excuse of a slight
indisposition, urged by Lord Clydesdale to ac
count for not coming on that day, was only
made to avoid offending me, by candidly stating
the true cause of his absence. It was my in
justice, my petulance, that compelled him to
have recourse to this deception, a deception
adopted only to spare my weakness. I expected
to receive a deprecating answer to my angry
renunciation of him, notwithstanding my pro
hibition; nay more, I was not without hopes
that he would come to plead his cause in person.
But, as hour after hour elapsed, without bring-
124 THE CONFESSIONS OP
ing any tidings of him, I began to tremble at
heart, though 1 affected a careless exterior, at the
probable consequences of my own folly.
Lady Walsingham, with that intuitive percep
tion which belongs exclusively to women, had
penetrated the state of my feelings. She de
plored, but pitied their wilfuiness; and gently
endeavored to sooth them. She dwelt on the
compassion and forbearance due to the regrets of
those who mourn an object beloved, even though
a brighter prospect opens on the bereaved heart,
by a new attachment.
" But, if the former object be still mourned,"
answered I, " why should the mourner seek
another love? Such a course is being unfaithful
to the dead, and unjust to the living."
"You are yet too young, dear Arabella,"
replied Lady Walsingham, " to have fathomed
the secret recesses of the human heart, in which
the desire of happiness is indigenous and inde
structible. If robbed of the object of its affection,
the grief that follows, though deep and some
times durable, is not eternal. The regret, which,
during the first bitterness attending such a cala
mity, was violent and engrossing, becomes by
the operation of time every day mitigated. The
lover is conscious of this gradual change; and at
first shrinks from what he believes to be an
infirmity of his nature. He summons memory,
with all her potent spells, to awaken the grief
that slumbers; he dwells upon all the charms of
the lost one, recalls all her love; and imagina
tion, excited by recollection, supplies the place,
and for a brief space, enacts the part of grief.
Gratitude aids this self-deception, which is pecu
liar to fine natures; the lost are thought of,
talked of, and referred to, with tenderness, long
after the survivor is consoled for their loss: nay,
AN ELDERLY LADY. 125
he frequently perseveres in premeditatedly offer
ing this homage to the manes of the departed,
as an expiation for an involuntary oblivion of
them. You know not, and may you never know,
dear Arabella, the shame, the lender regret, and
self-reproach, with which a sensitive mind first
becomes sensible that it can be consoled for a
loss, the regret for which, when first experienced,
was imagined to be eternal. But when the place
once occupied by the departed, is usurped by a
new, perhaps a dearer object for grief increases
the susceptibility, and tends to make the second
attachment more fond than the former in pro
portion to the eensitiveness of the feelings of the
lover, will be the recollections given to the dead;
recollections that do not rob the living of the
slightest portion of his tenderness, but which
rather originate in his deep consciousness of the
force of his present attachment. He who devoted
not a pensive thought to the memory of a buried
love, will never be capable of fidelity to a living
one. Such regrets are not the offspring of sorrow:
they are the funeral flowers with which, while
animated by hope of happiness, the survivor decks
the grave of one for whose loss he is consoled."
My feelings became softened towards Lord
Clydesdale, as I listened to the mild reasoning
of Lady Walsingham; and when she informed
me that his friend Sir Augustus Fauconberg had
acknowledged to her, that he never imagined
Lord Clydesdale could have loved again, so
tenderly devoted had he been to his first attach
ment, and so fondly was it repaid by its object,
I severely blamed rny own wilful ness in having
inflicted pain, where I should have offered con
solation. Oh, how I longed for him to come, or
write, to deprecate the anger which was now
subdued, that I might convince him of my
126 THE CONFESSIONS OP
repentance and affection! Every noise in the
ante-room made my heart throb, every step that
approached I hoped might be his; and in this
belief I have started from my chair to meet him
with an extended hand, and words of love hover
ing on my lips.
Lady Walsingham, anxious to make an im
pression on me, related all that Sir Augustus
Fauconberg had told her, of the personal charms,
cultivated mind, and angelic disposition of Lady
Lucinda Harcourt. She dwelt on the profound
tenderness of this young and lovely creature for
her betrothed husband; and on the heavenly
resignation with which she prepared herself for
another world, though blessed with all that could
render existence desirable. She related the long
and lingering illness, and the death-bed farewell
of this fair being; and the overwhelming afflic
tion of her affianced husband, who fled from
England, to seek in a strange land the power of
supporting a blow, that seemed to have for ever
destroyed his earthily hopes.
When she described the satisfaction experi
enced by Faueonberg, at discovering from Lord
Clydesdale that his heart had yielded to a second
attachment, in which be looked forward to the
enjoyment of the happiness he had believed to
have been lost to him forever, I could not restrain
my tears; and, as they flowed plenteously down
my cheeks, I felt that I had never loved Lord
Clydesdale so fondly as at that moment. Had
he then entered, yes, proud as I was, I would
have confessed my fault, and atoned for it, by
every future effort to control the waywardness
of my nature, and the petulance of my temper.
Alas! such happiness was not in store for me.
I had madly dashed the cup from my lip : and
AN ELDERLY LADY. 127
it was decreed that it should never more be of
fered !
But let me not anticipate my story. The long
evening wore away, without bringing me any
tidings of my lover. How did I count the weary
hours, on the dial of that pendule, on which I
had so often marked their rapid flight, when,
after a long visit, he rose to depart, and I disbe
lieved that the hour of separation was yet come !
How often during that interminable evening had
I resolved to write to him, and seek a reconcilia
tion: but pride, and it may be, female reserve,
prohibited this concession. Though supported
by the hope that the morrow would see him at
my feet, still my heart was troubled that the sun
should have gone down on our anger; and that
our estrangement should have endured a single
night.
Even now, though half a century has elapsed
since that night, I have not forgotten the tender
remorse, the good resolves, and the overflowing
affection with which I dwelt on his noble quali
ties, and my own unworthiness. For the first
time, my tears flowed for her, who had preceded
me in his heart, as I pictured her to myself in
all her youth and beauty, in all her gentleness
and love, descending to the untimely grave,
whence he could not save her. All that 1 now
experienced of affection for him, she had felt;
and in giving my tears to her memory, I seemed
to be shedding them for myself, such an identity
did my now altered feelings appear to create
between our sentiments. Yes, 1 would for the
future partake his recollections of her; her name
should be a sacred bond of union and sympathy
between us. I would think of her as a dear, a
lost sister, and emulate him in guarding her
sweet memory from oblivion. With these gentle
128 THE CONFESSIONS OP
thoughts I sank into slumber, and awoke to
despair.
Never did the sun shine with greater splen
dor, or on a more lovely scene, than presented
itself to my eyes, on awaking the morning after
my fatal letter to Lord Clydesdale. 1 hailed
the bright sky, as an omen of reconciliation of
happiness; and my spirits rose from the weight
that had oppressed them, as I joyfully anti
cipated an interview with him so dear to me.
1 had only completed my toilette, when a let
ter, bearing a superscription in his well-known
writing, was presented to me, and I pressed it
to my lips before breaking the seal, so impressed
was 1 with the thought that it was to announce
his visit. Alas! I had only perused a few lines,
when the fatal truth stood revealed, and / was
a desolate, a deserted woman. Even while I
was cheating myself with joyful anticipations of
our meeting, nay, chiding the tardy moments
that intervened, he, on whom my soul doted
with all the fervor of youthful love, was hurry
ing from me with cruel haste ! and now was
many, many miles distant. He no longer breatned
the same air with me and yet I was unconscious
of this change !
O prescience ! vainly attributed to the sym
pathy of affection, never more could I put faith
in thee ! when no secret foreboding whispered
me that he was flying from me; when no per
ceptible alteration in my being warned me that
the most fatal hour of my life was at hand \
And he could leave me, without one word of
adieu, one last lingering look of love ! Too,
too well had he obeyed my imperious, my fatal
mandate to see me no more. Why, oh! why,
had he not sought me! one word, one look
would have banished every harsh feeling between
AN ELDERLY LADY. 129
us. But no, he accepted (nay, perhaps, had
eagerly desired) the first opportunity of breaking
the bond that united us. My peevishness and
unreasonable jealousy had wearied and disgusted
him; he foresaw that our union could not tend to
our mutual happiness, and he burst the chain that
my folly and vvilfulness had rendered so galling.
Yes, the fault was wholly mine: and deeply, in
cessantly did I expiate it, by a despair that tolled
the eternal knell of my departed hopes.
In bitterness of spirit, I turned from the bright
sun, whose splendor but an hour before 1 had
blessed as an omen of happiness. Now its bril
liancy was as a mockery to the darkness that
veiled my soul: I shut out its light, and having
secured myself from interruption, by locking the
door of my chamber, I gave way to the poignant
sorrow that filled my breast almost to suffocation,
in a paroxysm of tears. I wept in uncontrollable
anguish until the violence of my emotions had
nearly subilued my physical force. At some
moments, forgetful of all but my love, and de
spair, I determined on pursuing him; on seeking
an explanation, and on beseeching him to let my
recent conduct pass into oblivion. Yes, 1 would
tell him all that 1 had suffered within the last
twenty-four hours; and all the atonement I had
determined on making, for the uneasiness 1 had
caused him. Surely, when he was acquainted
that my unreasonable jealousy was but the effect
of love, he would overlook, he would pardon the
folly and injustice into which it had hurried me.
Such were the thoughts that passed rapidly
through my mind, and as they presented them
selves, I rose from the couch, on which in my
despair I had thrown myself, with the resolution
of communicating my intention of seeking him
to Lady Walsingham. But then came the sug-
130 THE CONFESSIONS OF
gestions of reason, of delicacy, of pride, to my
aid; and, shall I own it, those of the last men
tioned passion were the most potent in guiding
my decision. How could I announce to the
modest, the dignified Lady Walsingham, that,
casting aside the maidenly reserve which befitted
me, I was about to pursue a lover who fled from
me! No, this was impossible; I would not, I
could not, bring myself to such a degradation.
But no sooner had I decided on the utter imprac
ticability of this last delusive whisper of hope,
than despair took possession of my tortured heart,
and I gave way to all its wild, its unholy dictates,
until reason reeled on her throne, and my brain
throbbed in agony,
I perused again and again my lover s epistle;
its gentleness touched me more than the strongest
remonstrances could have done, and rendered
the writer dearer to me than ever. Here is the
letter, which I have carefully preserved, though
some of the words it contains were half effaced
by my tears. It was long ere I could read it
unmoved, but time blunts the arrows of afflic
tion, or else it renders us more callous to their
assaults.
"This letter will be given to you, dear, too
dear Arabella, when I shall be many miles dis
tant. You have commanded me to see you no
more, and I obey; my reluctance being only
vanquished by the belief, that such a step, pain
ful as it is to me, will best secure your future
peace.
" When 1 saw you first, my heart was, as I
imagined, dead to love. Your beauty, your fas
cination, soon convinced me of my error; but
even when I discovered my weakness, I endea
vored to steel myself against the entertainment
of a second affection, lest you, in all the pride of
AN ELDERLY LADY. 131
youth and beauty s first triumphs, should reject
the offering of a heart, that had already expe
rienced for another a deep, a true passion. But
your gentleness, your apparent pity, rivetted the
chains your charms had forged; and I placed my
happiness in your hands, and dared again to in
dulge hope for the future. The consciousness of
the strength of my new attachment, induced me
to reveal to its object the sorrows created by a
former one. I related them as the mariner when,
safe in a haven of rest narrates to the person
most dear to him, the perils he has endured when
absent from her, and for which he looks to her
for consolation. I had no thought, no feeling
concealed from you; and the extent of my con
fidence must have assured you of that of my
affection. When mistress of every sentiment of
my heart, judge of my bitter disappointment at
discovering that your manner towards me be
came totally changed. Coldness and constraint
usurped the place of confidence and sympathy;
and I found myself compelled either to conceal
the fond recollection of the dead, or to offend
the living object of my tenderness. Such was
my attachment to you, that I adopted the first
alternative. I scrupulously avoided speaking of
the past; and this anxiety not to displease you,
led to a restraint that impaired, if it did not de
stroy, all the charm of our intercourse. Day
after day I marked your increasing coldness; yet
still I had not courage to depart; and by my
absence rid you of communion that seemed to
importune, rather than gratify you. You have
broken the bond that united us; you, cruel
Arabella, have pronounced the sentence of sepa
ration, and I leave you with every wound bleed
ing anew, opened by the hand that I once
thought had closed them for ever. Pardon this
132 THE CONFESSIONS OP
intrusion, which you forbade; and may every
happiness be yours.
" CLYDESDALE."
Lady Walsingham had frequently tried to gain
admittance to my chamber during the long hours
that had elapsed since I had shut myself in it;
but I resisted all her entreaties to open the door,
until a late hour in the evening, when, exhausted
by the effects of mental and bodily suffering, I
allowed her to enter.
All the soothing attentions that an affectionate
heart and feeling mind could offer, were showered
on me by this amiable and most excellent
woman; who bore the wayward petulance at
tendant on this my cruel and self-incurred dis
appointment, with a gentleness and patience that
in some degree restored me to a sense of shame
for my want of self-control. I reposed in her
sympathising breast all the circumstances which
had led to the misunderstanding with Lord
Clydesdale, anticipating that she would encourage
the hope that still animated me, by whispering
that he might return, and our union yet take
place. But she held out no such delusive pros
pect ; she had seen enough of him to be con
vinced, that the step he had taken was the result
of a belief, that, however temporarily painful it
might be, the separation was necessary to our
mutual peace; and that therefore his determina
tion would be immutable.
This conduct on the part of Lady Walsingham
was as wise as it was merciful. By destroying
hope, she disarmed love of its most potent ally:
and after a few weeks, I learned to reflect on my
disappointment with less bitterness; though, for
years, it cast a cloud of melancholy over the
sunshine of my young life, and is even still
- ^ f
AN ELDERLY LADY. 133
remembered with sadness. I tried to think that
Lord Clydesdale and I were unsuited to each
other, that our union could not. have been pro
ductive of happiness; but, alas! conscience whis
pered that he was faultless, and that all the error
was on my side.
Pride now reminded me, that, though, with a
bruised heart and wounded spirit, I was still called
on to enact a part in the drama of life. I was a
fair and wealthy heiress, on whom all eyes were
fixed; and must not permit even the most insig
nificant of the herd who sought my society, to
imagine, that an} one who had been known to
have worn my chains, could throw them off.
Lord Clydesdale was universally considered to
be my devoted admirer, but had never been
publicly acknowledged as my accepted suitor;
consequently, his departure was not likely to
lead to any surmises derogatory to my dignity,
unless 1 betrayed by any alteration in my general
demeanor, that it affected me. What sacrifices
does pride exact from her victims! sacrifices
that less unworthy motives have never obtained,
Reason nay, religion itself, have rarely had
such influence in quelling grief, or at least in
checking its external symptoms, as has this un
bridled, this all subduing passion. At its dictates
the tear is dried, the sob is stifled, the sigh is
sent back ere half breathed to the oppressed
heart; the quiver of agony is banished from the
lip, nay it is forced into the indication of a cheer
ful smile, and gaiety is assumed, while the heart
is pining in anguish rendered more intolerable
by the mockery to which its wretched owner is
compelled.
In obedience to this all-commanding power,
I schooled myself to appear more gay and care
less than 1 had ever been at any previous period.
VOL. I. 12
134 THE CONFESSIONS OF
Yet often did I start at the sound of my own
laugh, to which my tortured breast seemed to
render funeral echoes, as even while the smile
played on my lip, my thoughts were far distant,
wandering with him whose image was never
banished from my heart. Frequently have I left
a brilliant re-union, where I seemed to constitute
the magnet of attraction, and retired to my soli
tary chamber to weep over the recollection, of
the past. No, there is no slavery so insupport
able as that which we impose on ourselves to
cheat those who perhaps care little for us, and
for whom we care not.
Many of the persons whose attentions Lord
Clydesdale s presence and assiduities had check
ed, now returned to importune me with them.
Among those whose pretensions to please least
annoyed, though they totally failed to interest
me, were II Principe di Monte Rosso, and his
fidus Achates, II Duca di Carditella. Both
these nobles professed a chivalrous adoration for
me, worthy the days of romance, and displayed
it a la Neapolitan, They sang duets beneath
my balcony at night; their boat followed mine
in the evenings over the moonlit sea; and the
lava of Vesuvius, their native volcano, whose
flames their own for me professed to emulate,
was offered to me in every shape into which the
ingenuity of art could torture it, to remind rne
of their tendresse. Such was their attention to
my comfort, though that was a word as unknown
to their southern ears as the reality was to their
habits, that on one occasion, when Lady Wai-
si ngham observed that the butter provided by
our major domo was of a very objectionable
quality, II Principe declared that the superin
tendent of his villa sold the best butter in all the
neighborhood of Naples, and recommended it
AN ELDERLY LADY. 135
so zealously that we knew not precisely which
he wished most to serve, his farmer or myself.
II Duca di Carditella frequently assured us
that the wine sold by the porter at his Palazzo,
and made from the vines on his estate, was su
perior to all other, and even urged our servant
to give it a trial. I figured to myself an English
Duke puffing his own wine or butter to engage
purchasers, and, above all, to the lady of his
love; and could not resist smiling at the contrast
between such conduct and the sonorous and
ancient titles of the perpetrators. Whenever II
Principe sighed, and this was not seldom, II
Duca echoed: each compliment that one offered
at the shrine of my beauty, and each profession
of the profound sentiment which that beauty
had excited, was repeated nearly verbatim by
the other, without the least apparent embarrass
ment to either.
This modern Py lades and Orestes always
came and departed together; and their mutual
harmony seemed in no way impeded by the
passion they professed to entertain for the same
object. There was something so singular in this
brotherhood in love, that though it failed to in
terest, it succeeded in sometimes amusing me.
One day when II Principe was calling all the
saints in the calendar, even St. Januarius him
self, to witness how perfectly he adored me,
and II Duca was strenuously emulating him in
his vows, I inquired, with as serious a face as I
could assume, how, in case I should, by any
possibility, (though I admitted not the probability
of such an event,) prefer one to the other, the
rejected suitor could support the disappointment;
or the accepted one be so selfish as to enjoy a
boon of which his brother in love had been de
prived.
136 THE CONFESSIONS OF
"Let not such a reflection oppose a single
obstacle to your decision, charming lady," ex
claimed both, nearly in the same words, "for we
have sworn that he who becomes your husband,
shall select the other for your cavalier servente,"
Strange to say, neither of my admirers seemed
to be aware of having said aught that could either
shock or surprise me; and would have considered
any expression of such feelings on my part as a
proof of northern barbarism and prejudice.
After visiting all the principal places of resort in
Italy, and passing above four years in that beau
tiful land, we returned to our own country; with
my notions of happiness considerably changed,
and my hopes of attaining it, oh! how infinitely
diminished; and yet my heart beat quicker too,
when I found myself again on my native shore.
1 concluded that he who was so often and fondly
recalled to memory must be there, that we should
in all human probability meet: and what might
not a meeting accomplish between hearts that still
loved? for, judging his by my owp, I concluded
that I still occupied a place in it. But, even
should we not meet, was it not a blessing to in
habit the same country, breathe the same air, and
knovv that a few hours might bring us together?
Those only who have truly loved will compre
hend this negative sort of happiness; but they
will know that even this is eagerly grasped at,
and will appreciate its effects on me.
I was now of age; and that important epoch
was to be marked byj eles and rejoicings at Wal-
singham Castle, where I was to receive my neigh
bors, and feast my tenantry and dependents.
Previous to going there, Lady Walsingharn and
I accepted an invitation to the rectory of her
brother, who, with his pretty wife and three rosy
cheeked children, we found in the enjoyment of
AN ELDERLY LADY. 137
as much happiness as, perhaps, was ever permit
ted to mortals. I might also add as much health,
if that advantage was not an essential requisite
in the other blessing, there being no happiness
without it. The fact was, the felicity accorded
to this excellent couple had been so wholly free
from anxiety, or any of the trials to which per
sons of susceptible natures are liable, that the re
sult had been an increase of embonpoint to both;
more indicative of rude health than advantageous
to beauty.
On looking at Frederick Melville, the once
pale, interesting, but now lusty and fresh colored
father of a family. I could scarcely forbear a smile
at the recollection of my former girlish predilec
tion for him. How inferior, how immeasurably
inferior was he to Lord Clydesdale, in appearance
as well as in manner. This alteration in his
looks, but still more, the total change in my own
taste and opinions, led me to reflect on the folly
of permitting girls to marry the first object that
attracts their juvenile fancy; without allowing a
reasonable time to elapse, in order that the sta
bility of the sentiment may be ascertained. How
few young women would at twenty select the
admirer as a partner for life who might have cap
tivated them at seventeen? and how many of the
desperate passions, supposed to be eternal, would
fade away like a dream before the influence of
reason, if subjected to the ordeal of a couple, or
of even one year s absence.
The happiness of Frederick Melville and his
wife was much too unimaginative and common
place for my refined notions. The ideal colored
every vision I formed of domestic life, and entered
into every scheme of enjoyment. 1 shrank from
the realities of actual existence to revel in day
dreams; and in the superabundance of my folly
12*
138 THE CONFESSIONS OP
recoiled from the possibility of ever finding my
self reduced to the level of Mrs. Melville, a
homely, busy, but most happy wife. Their daily
occupations and simple pleasures seemed insipid
and tiresome to me. Their intellectual recrea
tions were limited to the utile, rather than to the
exalted and elegant in literature ; and their rou
tine of usefulness, and absence of high thought,
the epithet with which I dignified the sentiments
engendered by study of poetry and belle lettres,
allowed the countenance of both to wear an habi
tual expression of cheerfulness rather than of
sensibility.
In the vanity of self-imagined superiority, I
fancied my mind to be of a too elevated character
to be content with a blameless lot like theirs;
erroneously believing the morbid fastidiousness
of my ill-directed feelings, to be an indubitable
proof of this supposed superiority, when it clearly
indicated precisely the reverse: as the factitious
bodily force sometimes exhibited in delirium,
is, by the ignorant, mistaken for constitutional
strength.
When, after a morning passed in the perusal
of my favorite authors, among whom the most
romantic school of poets were the preferred, I
have found Mrs. Melville, with health glowing
on her cheek, and the vivacity it inspires beam
ing in her eyes, returned from visiting the poor,
or superintending her domestic arrangements, I
have pitied her destiny, and almost despised the
mind that could be happy under it. The vigo
rous discharge of actual duties, I was as indisposed
to comprehend, as unwilling to perform; conse
quently, I undervalued those who did both.
Great sacrifices, I fancied, I should heroically
make; but the minor ones, which we are con
stantly called on to offer, and for which no praise
AN ELDERLY LADY. 139
is given, appeared to me to be beneath my
attention. It is thus that too many people con
sole themselves for leaving unfulfilled the nume
rous duties, the discharge of which cheer and
sweeten life, while the great sacrifice they sup
pose themselves ready to make, is perhaps never
required. To preside over a husband s household,
attend to his personal comforts, nurse his chil
dren, visit the poor, pray with, and work for
them, and receive him always with joyful smiles,
was, in my opinion, to become that most unin
teresting of all creatures, a homely housewife.
Consequently, I deemed that it argued ill for
the taste and refinement of Frederick Mel
ville, that his attachment to his wife seemed
to increase in proportion to her indefatigable
discharge of this dull and vulgar routine of
duties.
I had figured the Parsonage to myself as an
old-fashioned house, modernised into a simple,
but elegant villa, with myrtles, woodbine, and
roses, peeping into each window. The furniture
light, tasteful, and luxurious: no splendor, but
all that persons of refined habits could require.
The picture I formed, comprised a small but
most comfortable drawing-room, opening into^a
conservatory redolent of sweets a library con
taining the choicest authors a boudoir, with all
its fairy elegancies, and an ^Lolian harp placed
in its window, to catch the sighing of the night
breeze on its strings. I fancied all the decora
tions peculiar to female taste, and all the graceful
implements indicative of feminine occupation.
Each apartment was to be filled with rare flowers,
and the presiding deity, simply, but most be
comingly attired, was to languidly, but sweetly,
do the honors of this imaginary little Paradise ;
repaying her husband for a thousand nameless
140 THE CONFESSIONS OF
attentions not by the bustling activity of a
housekeeper, but by the gentle smiles and soft
words peculiar to heroines in novels.
This was the picture my fancy had drawn of
Addlethorp Rectory; though the name had al
ways jarred on my ear, and suggested the neces
sity of bestowing on the spot a more euphonious
denomination. The married lovers must, accord
ing to my notions, in the constant communion of
thought and study, have grown somewhat paler,
and more pensive that palor arising from deep
thought, and that pensiveness which excess of
happiness produces on high-toned minds, by
making them tremble for its duration.
How, then, were my expectations disappointed
by the reality of Addlethorp Rectory and its
owners! Instead of a modernised villa, a square,
red brick, mansion, met my view. No myrtles,
woodbine, or roses, peeped into the windows;
and the green boxes of mignonette which sup
plied their places, odorous though they were,
seemed to me, to be but a sorry substitute. The
garden into which the windows of the principal
rooms opened, might have satisfied even rny
fastidious taste; but those rooms sadly shocked
my notions of elegance and comfort shining oak
pannels, and book cases to correspond, stowed
with volumes of no rich hues. of binding, were
its most conspicuous features. No mirrors were
to be seen, and no silk draperies met the eye;
but white dimity curtains, with chairs, and a sofa
that seemed to have been made before the pos
sibility of reclining in it had been taken into
consideration; for its form and texture defied
such a position. A work table, on which was
placed a basket well filled with non-descript
pieces of linen, ycleped plain work, and all the
AN ELDERLY LADY. 141
homely apparatus of a village sempstress, lay
by it.
To be sure, tbe room was scrupulously clean
and cheerful, and wanted nothing for positive
use, though it contained no article for mere orna
ment. Still, its rustic plainness struck me as
being disagreeable; and the increased plump
ness and gaiety of its owners, shocked my pre
conceived notions. The whole house and its
arrangement were equally plain and simple.
Every thing was perfectly clean, but all of the
cheapest texture and most simple form. I could
have fancied myself in the dwelling of some
primitive quaker, who disdained ornament or
elegance: yet never had I beheld in the most
splendid saloons, rich in all that unbounded
wealth and refined taste could lavish on them,
such happy faces as in the homely parlor of Ad-
dlethorp Rectory.
The conversation of the rector and his wife
was little calculated to excite any interest in a
mind teeming with all the morbid sentiments that
filled mine. To hear that old Farmer Brook-
by s health was much amended; Dame Gateby s
leg not broken, as was supposed; and poor
Martha Dobson s case not so hopeless as was
feared, only excited in me ennui and dissatis
faction, while this intelligence created in Mr.
and Mrs. Melville the most lively interest. The
rapid progress which her pupils at the charity
school were making; the good qualities of the
curate and his wife; and thankfulness to Provi
dence for having placed her lot among such good
people, were the themes most frequently chosen
by Mrs. Melville, while she plied her needle;
little aware how callous a listener she had for
her " short and simple annals of the poor;" but
to which Lady Walsingham lent no cold ear.
142 THE CONFESSIONS OP
" I see no harp here," said I, one day, to Mrs.
Melville, during our short sejour in the parson
age " I remember you excelled on that instru
ment."
" It is an expensive acquisition," replied she;
"and as I have a pianoforte, I thought it more
prudent not to purchase a harp. Besides, the
truth is, I should not have had time to practise;
for what with my household avocations, my
children, my school, my garden, and, though
last not least, my poor, 1 find little spare time
for music."
"But does not all this daily recurrence of
occupation weary and depress you ? 1 should
soon sink under it, I am sure."
"0! dear, no; on the contrary, it keeps me
more cheerful ; for the consciousness of en
deavoring to fulfil one s duties, exhilarates the
spirits."
" But do you not feel very solitary and dull,
when Mr. Melville is compelled to be absent?"
" It is true, I miss his presence very much
at the hours at which we are accustomed to
meet; but I have so many things to attend to,
that I have not leisure to be dull. Besides, I
look forward with such delight to his return,
and have so many little preparations to make
to welcome him, that this occupation alone would
sustain my cheerfulness."
" May I, without being indiscreet, inquire in
what consist these preparations?"
" In a thousand trifling things, which, though
trifling, nevertheless, have a lively interest for
those who are fondly attached to each other."
Come, come, thought I to myself, all the ro
mance of love is not yet over. Here, amid all
the duties, I shall hear of some little schemes of
pleasure, some delicate attentions, such as placing
AN ELDERLY LADY. 143
fresh flowers in his room; or surprising him with
some unexpected little gift of affection. Yes, yes,
housewife as she is, she is still a woman at heart,
and has not forgotten all the sentiment of love.
" But you have not yet* told me your prepa
rations," resumed I.
"Well, then, to commence. Imprimis: I
make some new article of dress for him: shirts,
cravats, bands, gown, or, in short, any thing he
may require; and which I know he will wear
with double pleasure as being made by me. I
teach the baby some new word, and the eldest a
hymn that he will like to hear. I copy out, in a
large hand, some of his sermons; prepare dif
ferent little articles of confectionary to which he
is partial, and endeavor, as well as I can, to supply
his place to his parishioners thus occupied, time
passes imperceptibly."
" But do your thoughts never revert to a more
gay life, to a more brilliant position?"
"Never, I assure you; who would not prefer
happiness to gaiety, and comfort to splendor? I
possess both; and most thankful am I for such
inestimable blessings."
" It has occured to me more than once since
I have been here, dear Mrs. Melville, that your
dwelling might be rendered more elegant more
worthy of its inmates."
" I am sorry you do not like Addlethorp Rec
tory; we are very partial to it; and no wonder,
we have been so happy here" and she looked
around, as if she loved the very walls, and the
clumsy, tasteless furniture.
"You mistake me, dear Mrs. Melville; I do
not dislike your residence; I only wish it pos
sessed more elegance more of those luxurious
comforts that one sees in the generality of houses.
For instance, I would have the red brick front
144 THE CONFESSIONS OF
that makes one hot to look at it, concealed by
parasitical plants. This apartment should be
enlarged by two projecting bay windows, open
ing into the garden. That settee should give
place to a comfortable lounger sofa, well lined
with eiderdown pillows; two bergeres should fill
up the space occupied by yonder straight backed
chairs, that forbid ease; a carpet of such an ample
pile, that no footstep could be heard to fall on it,
should replace this one, and a mirror or two
should reflect back the treasures of the garden,
A sober tinted silk should form the curtains and
covers of the chairs and sofa, instead of that cold
and cheerless looking white dimity; and a few
light and elegant tables and consoles with richly
bound books scattered over them, should give
the finish."
" The room would doubtless gain much by
your proposed change of decoration, dear Lady
Arabella; but would it then be as suitable for
the wife of a minister of the Gospel?"
" Do you then imagine that elegance is incom
patible with religion?"
"By no means; I only think that a clergy
man and his wife should set the example of
humility to those with whom example has more
effect than precept; and that lessons on the ad
vantages of that virtue from the pulpit, might
fail to make the desired impression, if the resi
dence of the preacher was known to abound in
those luxuries against an indulgence in which he
warned his hearers. But, independent of this
motive, the expense of the alterations you sug
gest would offer an insuperable objection."
"I imagined that Mr. Melville s benefice
brought in a considerable revenue."
" So it does; one amply sufficient to gratify
our simple tastes, enable us to ameliorate the
AN ELDERLY LADY. 145
condition of oirr poor parishioners, and lay by a
modest provision for our children. But were
we to indulge in the expensive luxuries you pro
pose, our means, ample as they are, would be
inadequate to these objects; and the fine things
you speak of would only serve to reproach us
for the sacrifice of our duties and principles, at
the shrine of a vanity which in us would he
worldly and culpahle. It is very natural for
Lady Arabella Walsingharn, born and nursed in
the bosom of wealth and splendor, to think the
elegancies of life to which she has ever been ac
customed essentially necessary to her personal
comfort; but for us, their absence is no pri
vation."
" Chacnn a son gout " thought I, by no means
satisfied with the result of my suggestions.
" But you have not told me," resumed I, " why
you do not co-nceal the red brick front of the
house, by parasitical plants?"
" Merely because they engender insects that
fill the rooms and annoy the children."
"What," thought 1, "submit to behold that
fiery looking front, staring one in the face, when
it might be concealed, because the plants breed
insects that annoy children; really this is being
very considerate."
I knew not the heart of a mother: I was un
worthy of such a boon, and in my egotistical
vanity, believed myself, with all my over-ween
ing selfishness, superior to the excellent person
before me.
I left Addlethorp Rectory without regret; and
during my journey to Walsingham Castle, lis
tened silently to Lady Walsingham s occasional
comments on the happiness of her brother and
his family; a happiness so little suited to my taste
as to create no envy in my breast.
VOL. I. 13
146 THE CONFESSIONS OF
Every inn where we stopped to change horses
during the last day of our route poured forth its
inmates to stare at and welcome the owner of
Walsinghatn Castle. At a few miles distance
from it, a cavalcade of the tenantry, headed by
my steward met me; and, notwithstanding my
resistance, unharnessed the horses and drew the
carriage to my paternal home, amid the joyful
acclamations of a vast concourse of people.
I had not seen this abode since my infancy,
and retained no recollection of it, consequently
its feudal splendor now struck me with delight.
A flag emblazoned with the Walsingham arms
proudly floated from the ramparts; the bells of
three neighboring churches tolled merrily, and
the wives and daughters of my tenantry, attired
in their Sunday clothes, stood courtesy ing to the
ground, while they offered bouquets of flowers,
enough to have filled at least a dozen carriages.
A new sense of my own importance was now
added to my other vanities. I looked proudly
around me, acknowledging by dignified bows
the homage that was offered to me.
How easy it is for the rich to make themselves
beloved ! A few gracious smiles had already
won the hearts of those good people, who rent
the air with shouts of applause. \Vhen I entered
the hall, I paused, overcome with delight, at
the grandeur of its appearance. Coats of mail,
helmets, shields, and arms, crowned with the
armorial banners of the family, were ranged
along its lofty walls; and an oriel window of
ancient stained glass, through which the setting
sun threw its bright rays, diffused a variety of the
most gorgeous hues over the polished steel of the
armor, and the marble pavement of the hall.
Here were assembled the gray-headed servitors
of my father, with good Mistress Mary at their
AN ELDERLY LADY. 147
head, all blessing and welcoming me to my home.
I fancied myself invested with an accession of
height, as with a stately assumption of dignity that
would not have shamed La Dame Chatalaine of
a melo-drama, I walked through the long train
of retainers, dispensing nods and smiles around;
and ascended the flight of marble steps that led
to the principal suite of state rooms.
Here new delight awaited me. Apartments
of vast proportions, furnished in a style of unri
valled magnificence, the walls glowing with the
most admirable productions of the Italian school,
met my view. I seemed to be some heroine of
romance, long banished, but at length restored
to her hereditary rights; and, as my glad eyes
gleamed around, I was ready to exclaim, " And
all this is mine really mine! 7
Yet, even at that moment, when, inflated by
pride and vanity, I gloried in my possessions,
memory recurred to him whom 1 once hoped
would have shared with me the possession of this
splendid castle; and I would have almost re
signed it to have had my hand placed in his, and
to have had a right to call him mine. Such
were the thoughts that flashed across my mind,
as I slowly paced through the enfilade, of apart
ments, until I came to one of less vast pro
portion, and of more modern decoration. There
hung the portraits of my father and mother;
and, as my eyes fell on his mild and benevolent
face, which seemed to welcome me to my ancestral
home, a flood of gushing tears relieved the
oppression that impeded my breathing. This
pensive and dear countenance reminded me for
the first time since 1 entered the castle of Lady
Walsingham. I blushed crimson at the recol
lection of this ungracious and egotistical proof of
my negligence; and, turning, I found her pale
148 THE CONFESSIONS OP
and melancholy; her eyes, too, fixed on the por
trait of him who would have welcomed her more
kindly than did the daughter who owed so much
to his widow. I pressed Lady Walsingham to
my heart in silence; and she as mutually dried
her tears, and returned my embrace.
" I have not yet bidden you welcome to our
home, dear mother," said I; " may it ever prove
as happy a one as he would have rendered it;"
and I looked on his portrait.
" When you have selected a Lord for this
castle, dear Arabella," replied she, " I shall seek
another home: until then, your home shall be
mine."
A suite of rooms had been, by my instructions,
prepared for Lady Walsingham, filled with every
object that I thought likely to conduce to her
comfort. Nothing that taste or elegance could
suggest was left undone by the upholsterer that
had taken my orders; nor was he less attentive
to those which related to my own apartments.
All the classical decorations that 1 had ever
admired in Italy or praised in France, joined to
the exquisite neatness and comfort peculiar to
England, were here united; and, as I examined
the details and enjoyed the ensemble, I was not
a little elated.
I stood before a vast mirror, half draped by
the pale blue silk hangings with rich silver
fringes that lined the walls of my dressing-room;
and, as I contemplated my own image, vanity
whispered, that even without the immense wealth
and high nobility which I possessed, that form
and face might well aspire to captivate. As I
gazed on my mirror, I almost questioned the pos
sibility of any man whose heart was not already
occupied, resisting my powers of attraction; until
memory reminded me that he whom alone I
AN ELDERLY LADY. 149
wished to fix had thrown off my chains the
moment they pressed too heavily on him; and
this reflection checked the over-weaning self-
complacency in which I was indulging.
I spent six months at Walsingham Castle;
receiving from and giving a succession of feles
to the whole neighborhood. I found myself
an object of universal attraction, and, as I make
no doubt, of envy; though the demonstrations of
it were so skilfully concealed that I was uncon
scious of the existence of the sentiment. The
young ladies all copied my dress, the most indis
putable proof of female admiration; and the
elderly ones, more especially those who had un
married sons or nephews, plied me with all the
delicate attentions and adroit flatteries with which
match-making dames assail wealthy heiresses.
Never, however, for a moment did I now doubt
that my own personal claims to admiration were
not the cause of the homage 1 received.
My vanity increased with the food continually
administered to its craving appetite; and, in
proportion to this increase, was my astonishment
that Lord Clydesdale had the self control to
free himself from my chains. Yet the knowledge
that he had done so, though it wounded my
amour propre and still rankled at my heart,
impressed me with a high opinion of his strength
of mind, ralher than with any suspicion of my
own weakness.
How I longed to meet him again, and once
more to subjugate his heart; for it seemed a re
proach to my powers of captivation, that he could
fly from me. Every object that pleased, every
point of view that charmed me, were thought of
with a reference to how he would approve them.
I associated his beloved image with every scene
13*
150 THE CONFESSIONS OF
around me; and almost: cheated myself into be
lieving that we might yet be united.
It was this delusive hope that caused me to
rejoice when the time came for leaving Walsing-
ham Castle ; believing that in the metropolis
my encounter with Lord Clydesdale was inevit
able.
With a heart beating with joyful anticipations,
I again found myself in London; and those an
ticipations seemed on the eve of being realised
when I read the announcement of Lord Clydes
dale s arrival in town. When I drove through
the streets, I fancied every tall distinguished look
ing man must be him. I looked for him in vain
at the opera; and never accepted an invitation
without expecting to meet him. Still, day after
day passed away, and I saw him not!
" Where could he be?" was a question I asked
myself every night, as fatigued and dispirited I
sought my couch; but the question was an enigma
beyond my power of solving.
Well has it been said, that " Hope deferred
maketh the heart sick;" mine was sick. But as
my hope of meeting Lord Clydesdale faded away,
my desire to encounter him became more un
governable. It had now grown to be the object
of my daily thoughts my nightly dreams. A
meeting must, as I fancied, inevitably lead to a
reconciliation, and a renewal of our engagement.
One glance would explain all; and no false pride
on my part should prevent a perfect eclaircisse-
ment. Yes, I would avow my faults, and atone
for them; and all would yet be well could we but
meet.
An invitation to dine at the Duchess of Mel-
lincourt s had been, accepted by Lady Walsing-
ham and I. As the day approached, I wished to
find an excuse for declining it, for my spirits
AN ELDERLY LADY. 151
were depressed by the continual disappointment
of not seeing him, whom I alone wished to be
hold. Two days previous to the dinner, I met
the Duchess of Mellincourt at Lady Fothe-
ringay s; when, alluding to the dinner engage
ment, she mentioned that Lord Clydesdale was
to meet us at her house. I found it difficult to
repress the emotion this news excited; I felt in
clined to embrace her in the joy that filled my
heart; and I went home to indulge once more
ia dreams of happiness, and to study a toilette
that should set off my person to the utmost ad
vantage.
Never had I bestowed so much attention on
this, to most women, momentous subject. Long
did I waver between a robe of pale rose or ceru
lean blue; but at length I decided that simple,
but always elegant, white should be the toilette,
with delicate pink and silver bows on the robe
and in my hair, and pearls for my neck and
arms. I thought the time would never arrive,
so slowly did it seem to creep: I went to dress
full two hours before my usual period; repeatedly
changed the arrangement of my hair, and inde-
fatigably consulted my mirror, to be assured that
all was right.
We were among the first guests that arrived
at the Duchess s. I almost feared to raise my
eyes lest they should too suddenly encounter
him whom they languished to behold. Guest
after guest arrived, and, as the groom of the
chambers announced each aristocratic name, 1
listened with painful eagerness to hear his pro
nounced.
When at length the Maitre d Hotel s notice
qite le diner est servi summoned us to table, and
that I saw the guests seated, I looked anxiously
to observe whether there was a vacant place;
152 THE CONFESSIONS OP
and experienced a bitter sense of disappoint
ment at finding every seat occupied. My joy
ful anticipation and recherche toilette were then
all in vain; he who occasioned the one, and to
please whom, the other was studied and adopted,
came not. I could have wept over this cruel
disappointment, but pride came to my aid; and
while my heart was tortured I forced a pmile to
my lips, and compelled myself to answer the
common-place questions addressed to me by the
persons around me.
Talk of Spartan stoicism, what is it compared
to that which a proud woman is obliged to as
sume when in the midst of society she finds
herself "a cynosure for curious eyes," with
the painful consciousness, that were one tear
of those, that are struggling to gush forth,
suffered to be visible, she should become the
object, not of general interest and sympathy,
but of idle or malevolent curiosity, and occa
sion countless false and injurious rumors. Of
how many pangs does this knowledge quell
every external symptom, how many tears are
suppressed and sighs stifled, until in the privacy
of her own chamber, unseen by mortal eye,
a free vent can be given to them. And yet
people call women weak and destitute of self-
control !
When dinner was nearly over Lady Halifax,
who sat opposite to me, observed to one of the
party, that she expected to have met Lord
Clydesdale.
"I saw him yesterday," continued she, "and
he mentioned that he was to dine here to-day.
I told him that he would meet Lady Walsing-
ham and Lady Arabella, who I knew were friends
of his, for Lady Walsingham had told me they
knew him in Italy. But I must not make either of
AN ELDERLY LADY. 153
you ladies blush by repeating the very high eulo-
giums he bestowed upon both, and eulogiums
from Lord Clydesdale are not indiscriminately
given, for he is the most fastidious person pos
sible."
" I received an excuse from him this morning,"
replied the Duchess of Mellincourt, " stating that
he was suffering under a violent headache."
" I fancy he is grown a little hypochondriacal
of late," said Lady Ardenfield; " for he sent
similar excuses to Lady Mordaunt s and to Lord
William Crofts, and I saw him the day after each
dinner in apparently perfect health."
How I writhed while listening to this state
ment; I had dined at both the parties to which
Lady Ardenfield referred; and it now became
obvious to me, that he had absented himself
from them, and also from the Duchess of Mel-
lincourt s to avoid meeting me. Had I then
become an object of such distaste to him that
he could not bear to encounter me; or did his
reluctance proceed from a dread of again ex
posing his heart to the power of my fascinations?
Need 1 tell my own sex which supposition
gained belief in my mind? Yes; I now be
came convinced that he still retained too tender
a feeling towards me, to admit of his trusting
himself in my presence; and this belief con
soled me in some degree for the disappointment
occasioned by his absence. But then came the
reflection, that if thus carefully bent on avoid
ing me, how was I to meet him? and my hopes
became faint, and my spirits again sank at the
prospect of days passed in vain expectation, and
nights in as vain regrets I thought the evening
interminable. The common-place observations
exchanged in the drawing-room, the lacka
daisical compliments by the men, and the sim*
154 THE CONFESSIONS OP
pering complacency with which they were
received hy the women, appeared to me to
be more than usually insipid. 1 offended more
than one of the satellites that hovered round me
by my total inattention to their pet Us soins; and
had I not been an heiress as well as a belle, might
have risked losing my popularity. But heiresses
have been from time immemorial privileged per
sons, and my abstraction and brusquerie were
therefore pronounced to be tres piquant, and
quite delightful when compared with the over
anxious civilities of the portionless young ladies
who abound in every society.
Day after day, and week after week rolled
away, bringing with them the same dull round
of engagements that the upper circles mis-name
amusements ; and yet I never caught even a
passing glance of Lord Clydesdale still his
image occupied my thoughts by day, and my
dreams by night. I longed to question those
acquainted with him, whether he was still in
London; but I feared to betray my emotion,
even while making the demand, and conse
quently refrained from inquiry. His pertinacity
in avoiding me, seemed only to have excited an
increased desire on my part to behold him
again ; and the facility with which 1 accom
plished every other object, rendered my defeat
in this, the dearest of all, more difficult to be
borne. I became daily more imperious, more
capricious, and unamiable. Yet this inequality
of temper and haughtiness of manner, deterred
not a numerous train of suitors from endea
voring to propitiate me. The perfect indif
ference I manifested to all, inspired each indivi
dual with hopes of rendering himself agreeable
by submission and perseverance: but angered by
their want of spirit and tact I severely tested
AN ELDERLY LADY. 155
their powers of forbearance. It was however
proof against all the trials to which I subjected it;
until unqualified rejections left them no room for
hope, and restored to me the peace which their
importunities had ruffled.
Notwithstanding all my vanity, I shrewdly
suspected that my fortune had a greater influence
over these pretenders to my hand, than the per
sonal attractions, relative to which they paid
me such florid compliments. This suspicion
offended my amour propre ; and I avenged its
humiliation by a contemptuous negligence of
manner towards my suitors that might, if it had
been adopted by Penelope of old, have enabled
her to have sooner rid herself of her more
troublesome ones. But my Ulysses came not
to relieve me from mine; so I was compelled
to dismiss them in propria persona. When they
discovered the impartiality I displayed towards
them, they unanimously joined in decrying me.
I was pronounced to be a proud, capricious, and
heartless woman who never had, or never* could,
love any creature but self! and whose fortune,
large as it was, would be insufficient to make
amends for my ill temper. Lady Walsingham
and I heard of their revengeful strictures from
many sources. She wished that I could have
behaved with more politeness to them; adding,
that it was always considered that the highest
compliment a man could pay to a woman, was to
demand her hand.
" Yes, my dear Lady Walsingham," have 1
answered, " provided he does not demand also
the large fortune that appertains to that hand.
A portionless demoiselle has reason to consider
it a compliment when a man solicits to become
her husband, because she must know, that he
can have no pecuniary motive. But those
156 THE CONFESSIONS OF
needy aspirants who seek to prop up their fall
ing fortune by that of an heiress, deserve no
ceremony from her, and no pity from others,
when they are foiled in their mercenary specula
tions."
How infinitely high did Lord Clydesdale rise
in my estimation when I contrasted his conduct
with theirs. Alas! every man who tried to ren
der himself agreeable to me, lost even the claims
he possessed to become so, when judged by a
comparison with him who was my beau-ideal of
perfection.
At length the season drew to a close, and it
became necessary to determine where the autumn
and winter should be passed. I should have pro
posed a return to France and Italy, but that
some spell seemed still to attach me to the coun
try that he inhabited. 1 therefore determined to
remain in England; and to pass the ensuing
months in a round of visits to the various houses
to which we were invited.
About this period, I began to remark the fre
quent visits of Lord Westonville, a nobleman of
an agreeable exterior and gentlemanly manners,
but of reserved habits. He, among all the men
who hovered round me, was the only one who
did not appear to offer homage or make any
effort to -conciliate my favor. This seeming in
difference, while it gave me a better opinion of
him, as compared with my suitors, served also
to excite a certain degree of interest or curiosity
relative to him.
" What then," thought I, " on observing the
frequency of his chills, and " the lingering, coy
delay" with which he continued to prolong their
duration, he, too, like all the others, aspires to
please the rich heiress. Poor man! he, too, will
share their fatej and subject himself to the mor-
AN ELDERLY LADY. 157
tification of a refusal, as soon as he has declared
himself in form."
And yet there was something so amiable ahout
him, that malgre my woman s vanity, I wished
to spare him the humiliation of a rejection, by
preventing him from placing himself in the posi
tion of receiving one. I therefore increased the
coldness of my manner towards him, to the ut
most extent to which politeness permits its vota
ries to go.
Yet, strange to say, his visits continued to be
as frequent as before; and, still more strange, he
appeared wholly regardless of my hauteur. He
seemed perfectly consoled for my taciturnity, by
the unaffected cheerfulness of Lady Walsingham s
conversation; and I concluded, that discovering
my distaste to his attentions, he had transferred
a portion of them towards her, for the purpose of
conciliating her influence in his favor. 1 smiled
internally, at anticipating the disappointment that
awaited him; and expected every day to hear my
stepmother commence a covert plan of attack, by
praising the knight, whose cause she seemed to
encourage, if not espouse. Still she said nothing;
.and my curiosity became more piqued. Unable
to repress it, I one day remarked to her, that
Lord Westonville had now become the most con
stant and assiduous of our visitors.
"I hope his presence is not disagreeable to you,
my dear Arabella," replied Lady Walsingham,
looking somewhat embarrassed.
" Ho, ho," thought I, " now I shall hear what
I have so long been expecting. It is evident
she wishes that I should be favorably disposed
towards him."
" Why, as to being disagreeable to me, ma
chere belle mere," answered I, " as long as he
chooses to confine his attentions to mere friend
VOL. 1. 14
158 THE CONFESSIONS OP
ship, I can have no objection to his visits; but
beyond that, I acknowledge that they would not
be acceptable."
"I rather feared so," said Lady Walsingham;
" and this fear has had great weight with me.
Still I hoped, that when better acquainted with
Lord Westonville, who is really an estimable man,
you might have conquered your repugnance.
Your feelings, of course, my dear Arabella, have
the greatest weight with me. 77
" In a case like the present they are doubtless
of the utmost importance," replied I.
"Am I then to conclude that such a union
would be painful to you?" asked Lady Walsing-
ham; " because, in that case, I would at once put
an end to his hopes."
"Such a union is quite out of the question;
and the sooner you tell him so, the better."
"But, surely some delicacy is due to his feel
ings; his proposals have been so generous, so"
"Really, my dear Lady Walsingham, I cannot
discover the generosity. Ladies, with lara;e for
tunes of their own, can seldom, if ever, expe
rience any great generosity on the part of their
suitors."
" 1 perceive that your dislike to Lord Weston
ville is insurmountable," said ma belle merej
"and therefore I shall not accept his hand."
"Not accept, his hand! good heavens, you
astonish me 1 had no idea you have taken me
quite by surprise," replied I, totally forgetful, at
the moment, what a silly figure I must make by
avowing the error into which my vanity had
plunged me. "Then Lord Westonville s views
are directed to you?"
" I have only lately been aware of his pre
dilection." answered Lady Walsingham; "but I
should never have permitted his attentions, had
AN ELDERLY LADY. 159
I imagined that your feelings were so repugnant
to my accepting him. I never have been, never
can be, unmindful of all that I owe to you and
your excellent father," resumed she; "and ill
would it become me to bestow rny hand on one
who, however irreproachable, had inspired you
with a sentiment of dislike, that might interrupt
the harmony that has ever subsisted between us,
or prevent my acting as hitherto, as your chape
ron, companion, and friend."
When 1 looked at the beautiful woman before
me, I could hardly understand how 1 had been
so blind to her great personal attractions, of
which habit alone could have rendered me for
getful. My own overweening vanity had also
helped towards this obliviousness; and, truth to
say, the idea of her exciting admiral ion, or love,
when I was present, seemed to me to be as
wholly out of the question as if she were old and
ugly, instead of being still young and beautiful.
I felt ashamed to avow the mistake into which
my egregious vanity had hurried me; and Lady
Walsingham, who was occupied with her own
thoughts, appeared not to have observed it.
Making an effort to conceal my embarrassment,
J embraced her, and murmured something about
my repugnance being caused wholly by the dread
of parting from her.
" I expected that you would have felt this
regret, my dearest Arabella; indeed, I should
have been hurt if you had not. Yet, let me
assure you that if my marriage was to separate
me from you, before yours had more naturally
led to this result, I should never have had
courage to contemplate such a measure. But,
with so many suitors, it is impossible that you
should not select some one on whom to bestow
your hand; and when that hour arrives, my
160 THE CONFESSIONS OF
continued residence beneath your roof would
not be necessary; and. certainly, would not be
agreeable to your husband."
" Talk not to me of an event that is now never
likely to occur. You know the cruel disappoint
ment my own folly has occasioned me; a disap
pointment, the effects of which have not yet
ceased to be felt with bitterness. But no more
of that I shall never marry. Yet, I must not,
therefore, permit you to renounce a union that
secures you a protector and companion for life.
No! that would be too selfish."
"I had determined," resumed Lady Walsing-
ham, "on informing Lord Westonville that I
should, with his permission, take a year to con
sider his proposals; not, however, holding him
bound to any engagement, though I should
deem myself excluded from entertaining any
other proposition of a similar nature during that
period. If his attachment be as sincere as I am
willing to believe, he will not object to so rea
sonable a plan; and within that period my
chaperonage for you, dear Arabella, may be no
longer necessary."
"I see by the smile on your lips, ma belle
mere, that you are incredulous with regard to my
determination of leading a life of single blessed
ness. But time will prove that this resolution is
a firm one; and, en attendant, I do not see why
you should compel Lord Westonville to the pro
bation of a year, satisfied as you already are that
he is amiable, sensible, and suitable; in fact, to
exhaust all the panegyrical bles, unexceptionable.
If his lordship will condescend to pass a few
months of every year at my chateau, and receive
me as a guest at his, I may still enjoy all the ad
vantages of your chaperonage, with the addition
and acquisition of his Lordship s protection to
AN ELDERLY LADY. 161
the belle fille of his wife. I promise to be as
amiable a hostess as possible to him, and as little
troublesome a guest as may be. Do pray, dear
Lady Walsingham, adopt my plan; it is much
more reasonable than yours; and 1 am sure Lord
Westonville will thank me for the suggestion."
People are always willing to follow advice
when it accords with their own wishes; Lady
Walsingham s pointed towards the counsel I gave,
and it required only a little perseverance on my
part, and the display of Lord Westonville s im
patience, to determine her to yield.
The truth was, that being still in the bloom of
life, with a natural timidity of disposition which
led her to seek protection and companionship, it
was not to be wondered at, that, finding a man
of high station, prepossessing appearance, culti
vated mind, and agreeable manners, who pre
ferred her to any of the reigning belles of the
day with whom he could not have failed to have
found favor, she was disposed to accept his
hand.
Time, that omnipotent eflfacer of eternal pas
sions, had obliterated the youthful one of ma
belle mere; or, if not wholly obliterated, had left
only a pensive recollection of it, thai could in no
degree interfere with the duties or happiness of
a wedded state. Her position, even in the life
time of my dear father, had never been one of
perfect ease; for, though treated by him with
consideration and kindness, the absence of all
warmer feelings towards her in his heart must
have made her continually sensible that to his
love for me alone she owed the station to which
he had elevated her. This consciousness, ope
rating ou a very timid disposition, served to
render her more like a governess than a mistress
of the house. Indeed, she never acted as such,
162 THE CONFESSIONS OF
exercising no authority, and confining herself to
a scrupulous attention to my poor father s per
sonal comforts and my improvement.
After his death, she sank into the timid and
retiring companion, instead of assuming that
influential dignity to which, as my father s widow,
she was entitled. It was, consequently, but na
tural that she should listen with complacency to
the offer now made to her, the acceptance of
which would secure her a protector and com
panion for life; and he who aspired to her hand
being in every way so unexceptionable & parti,
that few women would have rejected him, or
have felt otherwise than flattered by his pre
ference.
Though no one could be more sensible of
Lady Walsingham s merits and attractions than
myself, still so occupied had my mind lately
been by the conviction of my own supremacy,
that I never expected that any man could bestow
aught more than the tribute of an evanescent
admiration on her inferior charms, when he had
an opportunity of contemplating mine; and,
consequently, when I paused before the mirror,
and complacently gazed on the image it reflected,
I confess that some pity, as well as surprise, was
mingled in the opinion I formed of Lord Wes-
tonville s taste, or rather, according to my
notions, want of taste.
I began, in spite, however, of this egotistical
delusion, again for the first time to believe that
my charms were not so extremely irresistible as
I had hitherto imagined them to be; and this
belief awakened some salutary reflections in my
mind, Would that I had encouraged them!
they might have saved me from some follies and
more regrets. But, like most vain people, I
AN ELDERLY LADY. 163
silenced the admonitions of reason, and continued
to cherish an overweening self-admiration.
Fearing that I had revealed to my step
mother the weakness of having supposed that
1 was the ohject of Lord Westonville s prefer
ence, I anxiously watched to discover to what
extent she had detected me. But such was the
simplicity of mind and singleness of heart of
this excellent woman, that 1 really believe the
circumstance had quite escaped her; or if it had
not, her manner conveyed no symptom of her
having observed it. A vain woman would have
not only quickly discovered my mistake, but
would have as quickly let me see that she had
made the discovery, by resenting the implied
slight to her attractions, and ridiculing the
erroneous estimate of my own.
But Lady Walslngham was not a vain woman;
and, consequently, had no incentive either to de
tect the vanity of others, or to reap a triumph
for her own. How many of our sex, who would
otherwise have been estimable, have had their
noblest qualities sullied by this one, but engross
ing passion, which, " like Aaron s serpent, swal
lows up the rest ;" rendering them eager to
quarrel with the vanity of every other human
being, in order to avenge the jealousy and cxi-
geance of their own. How often do we hear
women exclaim, " I cannot support Lady So and
So, or Mrs. So and So, she is so intolerably
vain;" never recollecting that this anger fur
nishes the most irrefragable proof that they pos
sess in no ordinary degree the very quality they
condemn; for it is an indisputable fact, that only
vain people wage war against the vanity of
others.
, But to quit this digression and return to my
story. It was agreed thai the nuptials of Lord
164 THE CONFESSIONS OP
Westonville with ma belle mere should be so
lemnised at Walsingham Castle in three months;
and that the intervening period should be passed
in a round of visits. When I beheld the regret
with which Lord Westonville quitted his future
bride the morning of our departure from Lon
don, a sentiment almost amounting to envy, took
possession of my mind. She was cared for,
her absence was lamented, and her presence de
sired; while 1 was, as it were, alone in the world,
necessary to no one, and left to support as best I
might, the humiliating consciousness of my iso
lated slate.
Never until Lady Walsingham s engagement
with Lord Westonville had 1 imagined myself as
otherwise than an enviable person. My position,
my beauty and fortune, and the crowd of ad
mirers which these advantages drew around me,
had induced me to believe that I was the magnet
of general attraction; and had only to extend
a gracious smile to any of my adorers in order
to behold him at my feet. But now my feelings
were changed. The homage and respectful
tenderness I saw lavished on Lady Walsing
ham by her accepted suitor, a homage offered
in as seemingly total an obliviousness of my
presence as if 1 were not in existence, wounded
my amour propre so extremely, that 1 was almost
disposed to look favorably upon some one of
the individuals, whose addresses I had so super
ciliously rejected but a short time previously, in
order to secure to myself a similar devotion.
Such is the strange inconsistency of human
nature, verifying the truth of the lines of our in
spired bard
" O, how bitter a thing it is to look into hap
piness through another s eyes."
The first visit we paid, was to the seat of the
AN ELDERLY LADT. 165
Marquis of Doncaster, in the eyes of whose
fastidious Marchioness I had been so fortunate
as to find favor; a distinction rarely accorded
even to the most meritorious, and consequently
sought with greater avidity by those who valued
it as many other worthless objects are valued, for
its rarity.
The Marquis was a dull, pompous, but not an
ill tempered man. Naturally disposed to enter
tain a very high opinion of himself and his pos
sessions, this feeling had been encouraged by the
partner he had selected to share them; until he
had arrived at that happy, though not unfrequent
state of mind, in which people are so wholly en
grossed by self as to become totally oblivious of
others, except in relation to themselves. The
Marchioness of Doncaster never for a moment
forgot that she was of ancient descent, possessed
immense wealth, and arrogated great importance;
neither was she disposed to permit any one else
to forget these distinctions. The slightest symp
tom of a want of recollection on these points pro
duced an increase of hauteur on her part, and
not unseldom, a sententious diatribe on the re
spectful deference which, she considered to be
her due.
Such is the weakness or meanness of the ge
nerality of people, that she found no lack of per
sons willing to propitiate her favor by a system
of subserviency, that served to render her still
more dictatorial; falsely attributing to her own
acknowledged superiority, that which was but
the proof of the unworthiness of her flatterers.
She and her lord lived in a state of complete
illusion, and this illusion constituted their happi
ness. They continually quoted each other s
opinions as if they considered them worthy of
forming a code to regulate the conduct of their
166 THE CONFESSIONS OP
acquaintance ; but never were they kind enough
to defer, or refer to the sentiments of any other
person. If by chance some individual not
versed in the peculiarities of the noble host and
hostess ventured to state the on dits of some
other magnet of the land, they instantly drew
up to the utmost extent of their stateliness,
and silenced the speaker by saying, " Lord
Doncaster and 1 am of a totally diflerent opi
nion," or " the Marchioness and I think other
wise."
These sentences were considered to be con
clusive; and, like the laws of the Medes and
Persians, to admit of no appeal. I was not a
person likely to propitiate the Marchioness by
any undue deference to her opinions, as I had
long indulged in nearly as erroneous a belief in
the infallibility of my own; but the antiquity of
my family, or as she was pleased to term it, my
illustrious descent, aided perhaps by my large
possessions, and an occasional and unamiable
display of jitrtb in my manner, had won her
regard,
To Lady Walsingham she was condescend
ingly polite; but the condescension was so
ostentatiously manifested, as not unfrequently to
render the politeness more disagreeable and of
fensive than the most studied negligence would
have been.
The house bore undeniable demonstrations of
the charac!er of the owners magnificence had
banished comfort; and the very chairs seemed
to have been designed with a reference to the
peculiarities of the Marquis and the Marchioness;
the backs being so unusually perpendicular, that
the slightest approach to a reclining posture was
rendered impracticable. The sofas were so far
removed from the formal circle in which the
AN ELDERLY LADY. 167
chairs were placed that they were useless; and
these last were so cumbrous, that to move one
of them out of its accustomed station was an
Herculean task. The dimensions of the furni
ture were of Brobdignagian proportions, totally
defying any effort of ordinary strength to dis
place them; and 1 have seen the Marchioness
compelled to require the assistance of two of her
footmen to draw the ponderous fire screen to pro
tect her visage from the effects of fire.
The bed and dressing rooms appropriated to
visitors, though containing all that wealth could
place in them, bid defiance to comfort, even still
more obviously than the saloons. No bergere or
sofa on castors to admit of their being wheeled
near the fire, were to be found in them. Heavy
carved and gilded ones were placed formally
against the walls of the vast apartments, from
which it would have required the strength of
half-a-dozen laqueys to have removed them.
The dressing table, with its accessories in mas
sive silver, stood in the centre; and at such a
distance from the windows as to preclude a clear
view in the mirror of the countenance of the
person who used it. This circumstance perhaps,
might account for the undue and unequal distri
bution of rouge that was wont to appear on the
cheeks of the noble hostess; one of which was
generally much more florid than the other. Pro
bably this circumstance too might be cited in ex
planation of the occasional elevation of one of
her eyebrows; the black wax that imparted to
them their raven hue, being not unfrequently
placed above, instead of on, the brow.
The first day of our arrival, the only guests
assembled to meet us were the rector of the
parish, and the doctor, with their respective
wives. The appearance of both these worthies
168 THE CONFESSIONS OF
might have served to convince even the most
incredulous person, of the superior advantages
enjoyed by him to whom was delegated the care
of souls, over him to whom was intrusted the cure
of bodies. The reverend doctor was a man of
extraordinary obesity and rubicund countenance;
while the medical doctor looked as if he had
swallowed half the physic he had prescribed for
others, so thin was his frame, and so pallid his
face. Their help-mates resembled their liege
lords in a remarkable degree, Mrs. Warburlon
being almost as fat as ihe reverend doctor, while
Mrs. Hollingford looked in a state of advanced
atrophy.
Never had I witnessed such extreme obsequi
ousness as that exhibited by these four individuals
to the Marquis and Marchioness of Doncaster.
They assented to every observation uttered by
either, generally adding, " your ladyship is al
ways right," or " your lordship is perfectly cor
rect." They did ample justice to the dinner
which was more remarkable for its copiousness,
than for the talents of the cook. The reverend
doctor united the fastidiousness of an epicure
in his entreaties for the most delicate morsels,
with the gluttony of the gourmand in the rapid
ity with which he caused their disappearance;
while the M.D. positively devoured, like a fam
ished man, determined to make the best use of
his time.
" What is the news, -Dr. Hollingford?" de
manded Lord Doncaster, when the removal of
the soup and fish, allowed a few brief minutes of
repose to that gentleman.
" No news, my Lord Marquis, the country
never was so dull; scarcely a patient amongst
the gentry. But among the poor, nothing but
coughs and sore throats; the apothecary of the
AN ELDERLY LADY. 169
county dispensary declares he never furnished so
much medicine before; and for my part, I do
nothing but ride all over the parish, and write
prescriptions."
" How very strange/ said Lady Doncaster,
" that while the upper classes are so well, the
lower ones should be so unhealthy, notwithstand
ing they live in the same climate. Such a cir
cumstance justifies my hypothesis, that the upper
class are as superior in physical as they are in
mental powers to the lower orders."
" That s just what 1 say, your ladyship," ob
served Mrs. Hollingford; " the wealthy are
rarely ill. Now there s Mr. Goldsworthy, the
retired brewer, who is as rich as a Jew, he has
now been two whole years in the parish, and
never once sent for the doctor. Why it s a per
fect, shame! How does he think doctors are to
live?"
A look of unutterable contempt from Lady
Doncaster, was all the notice taken of this
remark; but the reverend divine continued the
subject, saying, " I don t quite know what to
make of this same Mr. Goldsworthy. He has
never been once to my church since he came
here, which I hold to be very indecorous, and
disrespectful to me."
" The two sins of omission you have both
related, explains the cause of Mr. Goldsworthy s
uninterrupted health," replied the Marquis of
Doncaster, with a species of laugh vulgarly de
nominated a chuckle. "By not going into your
damp church, reverend sir, he escapes cold; and
by not sending for the doctor, he avoids the
necessity of taking physic. Eh, gentlemen, eh,
eh, what do you say to that ?"
" Your lordship is so very droll ; uttered one,
VOL. I. 15
170 THE CONFESSIONS OP
and, "your lordship is pleased to banter," said
the other.
At this moment, a portion of a glass of wine
which Dr. Warburton was gulping down rather
too rapidly, went wrong, and produced all the
symptoms of strangulation. His rubicund face
became of a dark purple hue, his eyes appeared
starting from their orbits, and a convulsive noise
was heard to issue from his throat. Doctor
Hoilingford started from his seat, drew a case of
lancets from his pocket, and prepared to remove.
Dr. Warburton s coat for the purpose of trying
the effects of phlebotomy ; but Mrs. Warburton
rushed to the defence of her husband, and placing
herself between him and the doctor, exclaimed
that he should not be bled. The maitre d?
hotel, more judicious than the doctor or the
suffering man s angry wife, untied his cravat;
and Mrs Warburton, having now succeeded in
sending back the mortified and disappointed Dr.
Hoilingford to his seat, applied her finger and
thumb to the snuff box which she took from her
husband s pocket, and conveyed a large pinch of
the pungent powder into his nostrils.
" Have a care, madam, what you do," said the
angry and baffled doctor; " the consequences
may be attended with great danger; the already
overcharged vessels of the head may not be
capable of resisting the undue excitement of
sternutation, at such a moment."
This reasonable remonstrance produced no
other effect on the enlightened Mrs. Warburton,
than to induce her to administer a still laiger
pinch of snuff to the nostrils of her convulsed
husband, who now, in addition to the hiccup,
began sneezing repeatedly and violently, sending
forth at each effort, most uuseemly aspersions
AN ELDERLY LADY. 171
over the dishes. Lncly Doncaster ordered the
entries within reach of the undesirable irrigation
to be forthwith removed; and looked the very
incarnation of dismay and anger at this untimely
interruption of the repast. Her lord seemed
more disposed to smile at than sympathise with
Dr. Warburton s painful situation; who still con
tinued to sneeze, though he, with one hand man
fully resisted his wife s efforts to force on him
another pinch of snuff.
Doctor Hollingford kept his eyes fixed on the
reverend divine with a glance of such intense
curiosity, that I was uncharitable enough to
think, that he would not have been sorry, had
his prediction of the danger to which Mrs. War-
burton s treatment exposed the life of her hus
band, been verified, and thus established a proof
of his prescience and skill. But he was doomed
to be disappointed ; for. after a quarter of an hour s
suffering, Dr. Warburton was restored to his
usual state of composure. But not so his wife;
who, holding the snuff-box open, while the doc
tor struggled against her administering another
pinch, his hand came in contact with the box,
and sent its contents into her eyes, as she in a
recumbent posture approached him. She bore
not this accident patiently, but uttered piercing
cries, closing her eyes tenaciously, as if to retain
all the pungent powder that they h;id received.
Dr. Hollingford again approached her to offer his
advice, and again was repulsed, with less of ur
banity than decorum warranted.
" Yes, yes, you want to make a job of me,"
exclaimed the fat lady, I know you do, but you
shall have no fee from me, I can tell you."
44 For the matter of that ma am," replied Mrs.
Hollingford, " I d have you to know that my
172 THE CONFESSIONS OF
husband, Dr. Hollingford, is not a man to think
of fees, when a fellow-creature is in peril, as all
the poor in the parish can vouch. But some
people are so very suspicious and stingy, that it
is difficult for other people to escape their cen
sures."
" If by some people, you mean me, ma am,"
answered Mrs. Warburton, still wiping her eyes,
and horribly distorting her countenance, " I can
assure you that"
" Ladies, I beg," said Lady Doncaster, " that
you will remember that Lady Walsingham,Lady
Arabella Walsingham, Lord Doncaster, and my
self can feel very little interest in your local dif
ferences, and therefore I request that you will
restrain the expression of them for a more fitting
occasion."
This was said with the Marchioness most stern
and dignified air, and produced the desired effect;
for Mrs. Wartburton "hoped her Ladyship would
have the goodness to excuse her warmth;" and
Mrs. Hollingford humbly "begged her Lady
ship s pardon."
Peace being restored, though it was evident
that the angry feelings of the ladies of the D. D.
and M. D., were by no means appeased, not
withstanding that a fear of offending the noble
host and hostess, induced them to subdue every
external symptom of irritation, Lady Doncaster
announced that, by letters received that morn
ing from London, she was informed, that their
friend Lord Westonville was shortly to lead to
the hymeneal altar, the Lady Theodosia Fitz
Hamilton.
" A very suitable and proper marriage," re
plied Lord Doncaster, "unobjectionable in every
point of view."
AN ELDERLY LADY. 173
" Yes," said the Marchioness, " Lady Theo-
dosia is a most dignified and high-bred young
woman; one who has a proper consciousness of
her own elevated position, and who will never
permit others to forget it."
ib Lady Doncaster is in this instance, as in all
others, perfectly correct," observed the Marquis;
" Lady Theodosia is precisely the model I should
select to represent the female aristocracy of Eng
land. No weak condescension about her; no
undignified desire to please."
44 1 am highly gratified by the match," resumed
Lady Doncaster, oracularly; " for, as my Lord
observes, Lady Theodosia is indeed a model for
all women, and a union with her must insure the
happiness of Lord Westonville."
" 1 am strongly disposed to disbelieve the re
port," said 1, somewhat maliciously.
" And pray why, Lady Arabella?" demanded
Lady Doncaster, with her most stately air.
Lady Walsingham cast an imploring glance at
me; but I could not resist adding, "simply, be
cause I happen to know, that Lord Westoaville
has proposed to, and been accepted by, another,
and I think more elegible person."
" But, you will excuse me , Lady Arabella, if
I say, that ladies are sometimes prone to insinuate
that gentlemen have proposed to them, who never
entertained any such intention."
"In the present instance, there can be no mis
take," replied I; "for Lord Westonville himself
talked so me of his approaching nuptials with the
lady to whom 1 referred."
"You astonish me," answered the Marchioness,
with an expression that more plainly expressed,
" you enrage me."
"Yes, you reallv surprise me, as Lady Don-
15*
174 THE CONFESSIONS OF
caster justly observed," said her sapient Lord;
"and had you not mentioned that you heard
Lord Westonville himself confirm his intention
of wedding another lady, I should hardly have
permitted myself to credit the assertion; for the
Dowager Duchess of Willmingham, who wrote
the other statement to Lady Doncaster, is ex
tremely accurate in the intelligence she conveys."
"I hope the lady in question is of ancient
descent, for I cannot bear the thought of a mes
alliance; and I trust she possesses the same dig
nified manners that characterise Lady Theo-
dosia?"
Poor Lady Walsingham blushed to her very
temples; but luckily no one observed this betray
al of her keen sense of the illiberal remark of her
haughty hostess.
" The lady is of high rank," answered I,
"and her manners I have always considered
very distinguished and agreeable. To be sure,
she does condescend to please; and never fails
to succeed."
"Then," retorted the hostess, angrily, "she
must be, in my opinion, deficient in the dignity
that ought to appertain to a high-born woman. I
never could tolerate the idea of a lady of rank so
far forgetting what is due to herself and sex, as
to seek to obtain, by propitiation, the homage and
the suffrage which her station ought to command."
" Lady Doncaster speaks my sentiments on
this point," said her lord, looking pompously
and half angrily; "I must say, I never could
tolerate the modern system which, if it degene
rates not into a vulgar familiarity, is at least too
much calculated to make people forget the line
of demarcation which should ever subsist between
a lady of ancient and noble lineage, and the mere
AN ELDERLY LADT. 175
pretenders to fashion; who, by the influence of
wealth, force themselves into a society they are
so little fitted to adorn."
" Lord Doncaster s notions on this subject are
well worth attention and adoption," observed his
lady wife, smiling complacently on him.
" Your ladyship and his lordship s notions on
all subjects, must ever be worth attending to,"
remarked the reverend doctor; " and happy are
those who have an opportunity of being edified
by them.
" Happy indeed," ejaculated Dr. Hollingford,
in a tone partaking of a groan and a thanksgiving.
" Why, no later than yesterday, Sir Gregory
Tomkinson observed to me, that affairs would
never go right until the Marquis of Doncaster
was at their head."
" What signifies the opinion of a city knight?"
retorted Dr. Warburton, " when Sir John Haver-
stoke, one of the most ancient baronets in Eng
land, ay, and a man possessing a clear estate of
twelve thousand pounds a year, told me last
Sunday, after church, (for he makes it a point
never to omit attending divine worship) that his
lordship was the nobleman on whom all eyes
were turned to be prime minister."
" Though the opinions of Sir John Haverstoke
are certainly worth attending to, as representing
those of the landed interest in the county, still
those of Sir Gregory Tomkinson are not to be
despised; for I have observed on more occasions
than one, that he is a sensible and discriminating
man."
This speech was uttered by the noble host
with an affectation of humility and condescension
that was highly amusing; and the approval of
Sir Gregory from so high a quarter carried balm
176 THE CONFESSIONS OP
to the wound inflicted by Dr. Warburton on the
feelings of the worthy M.D.
"But for my part," resumed Lord Doncaster,
"nothing would be more disagreeable to me
than finding myself compelled to accept office.
Indeed, nothing short of a royal command would
induce me to do so; for, as Lady Doncaster
very properly observed, when we talked the
matter over, a person of my high rank and for
tune can gain no accession of dignity by holding
office; and the fatigue and trouble present an
insuperable objection, as 1 stated in a certain
influential indeed, I may say illustrious quar
ter, when certain propositions were more than
hinted at."
" Yes," said the Marchioness, " my lord and
I are placed in a position that precludes us from,
experiencing the temptations of ambition; and I
never could submit to be, as prime minister s
wife, compelled to receive a heterogeneous mass
of people, to whom it would be necessary to
enact the gracious."
The D.D., M D., and their respective xvives,
looked with increased awe and reverence at the
noble host, and hostess; but fortunately, a signal
from the latter led us to the drawing-room, and
released us from the prosy flatteries of the toad-
eating doctors, and the self-complacent replies of
the gratified host.
We found our stjour at Doncaster Castle so
irksome that we abridged it, and proceeded to
wards home, judging by this specimen of country
houses that our own was preferable to any we
might encounter.
The eccentricities of our late host and hostess
furnished abundant subject for my ill-natured
comments during the first day of our route
AN ELDERLY LADY. 177
homewards; notwithstanding that Lady Wal
singham, with the kindness that always charac
terised her, interposed the shield of her good
nature between their defects and the severity of
my animadversions. She censured the too pre
valent habit in guests of violating the rights of
hospitality, by criticising those infirmities which
the confidence of friendship has alone developed,
and which in a less intimate intercourse would
probably have never been revealed.
" But who, my dear Lady Walsingham, would
offer this hospitality, did they not intend to en
liven the tsedium vitse, by detecting the follies of
their guests; the recapitulation of which, after
their departure, serves as an agreeable mode of
varying the monotony of a country-house exist
ence. The guests are generally aware of this
dissecting process, and repay it in kind. Now,
I dare be sworn that at this moment Lord and
Lady Doncaster are pitying that poor dear mild
Lady Walsingham, (who, though, to be sure, a
leetle dull, is nevertheless a very inoffensive good
sort of a person) at being compelled to live with
that flippant imperious Lady Arabella, who seems
to think, forsooth, that because she comes of an
ancient lineage, and is an heiress, she is superior
to the rest of the w r orld."
" How can you, Arabella, be so suspicious and
satirical?"
"And how can you, ma chere belle mere, be
so very unsuspicious and good natured ?"
This was the mode in which Lady Walsing-
hanrs reproofs were made and received. She
was, in truth, the very soul of womanly charity,
ever ready to put the most favorable construc
tion on the actions of others, and to require none
for her own; for they were pure and blameless
178 THE CONFESSIONS OF
as her soul. Yet, strange to say, it was perhaps
this unusual gentleness and benevolence in her
that urged me to a not unfrequent practice of
the contrary qualities. Her extraordinary for
bearance irritated me at times; and led to my
expressing opinions that were not always founded
in justice. She judged the world by the fair
model of human nature best known to herself,
while I drew my conclusions from the unfavora
ble specimen of it offered in my own character.
We were both wrong; but her error was the
more amiable.
On arriving at the Marquis of Cranny Inn,
at Northallerton, where we were to remain for
the night, we afier a light repast sought our
separate chambers After having dismissed my
attendant, I recollected that I had forgotten a
book in the sitting-room, to which I attached a
peculiar value, it having been the gift of Lord
Clydesdale. Fearful of its getting into other
hands, I seized a light, and was hurrying in
search of it, when my foot was caught in a rent
of the. stair carpet, and I was falling to the ground;
but was saved by being caught in the arms of a
person who was ascending.
Flurried and rendered nervous by this acci
dent, I trembled so violently that the person who
had arrested my fall still supported me; fearful
lest I should again be exposed to a similar dan
ger. I turned to thank him, when Oh! merciful
Heaven ! I recognised in the stranger him who
for months and years had occupied every thought,
filled every dream, and was allied to every hope
of my doting heart! A passionate burst of tears
relieved me; and " Do 1 again see you. Clydes
dale? Dear always dear Clydesdale !" broke
from my lips, as clinging to him, and subdued by
AN ELDERLY LADY. 179
the surprise and joy of seeing him, I wept on his
bosom. " Cruel Clydesdale! how could you fly
from me? Ah! if you knew the days of care,
the nights without sleep, that J have passed since
you left me!" And here my tears and sobs
precluded me from finishing the sentence.
All this scene passed on the public stair-case
of a crowded inn; and that there were no wit
nesses of it seems nothing short of a miracle.
He trembled nearly as much as I did, and_bore
me into the sitting room to which I had been,
proceeding when we met, and the door of which
stood open. When he had placed me on a chair,
I fixed my eyes fondly on his face that face
which memory had so often and tenderly recall
ed to my mind. Its paleness and solemnity so
shocked and alarmed me, that, forgetful of the
pride and delicacy of my sex, and awake only to
the dread of again losing him, 1 passionately
poured forth ihe confession of my unchanged,
my unchangeable love; the truth of which the
energy of my manner and the tears that bathed
my cheeks too well attested. He made many
efforts to interrupt me while 1 spoke, but I would
not be checked. The feelings so long pent up
in my heart now burst forth, and could not be
repressed. What, then, was my agony at dis
covering that his countenance became still more
pale and solemn as I proceeded.
" Is it, can it be, Clydesdale," I exclaimed in
deep humiliation, "that you no longer love me?"
" The position in which this fatal rencontre
places us," replied he, and he trembled while lie
spoke, "compels me to avow that, welcome as
would once have been the confession you have
made me, dear Lady Arabella, it now comes too
late; for I, 1 am the husband of another."
180 THE CONFESSIONS OP
Never shall I forget the overpowering agony
of that moment! how I wished it was the last of
my existence! He, even he, the traitor, seemed
to feel for the misery he had inflicted, but the
expression of pity on his countenance nearly mad
dened me.
"Leave me! leave me, forever;" I passion
ately exclaimed. "You shall be obeyed," an
swered he with sadness. " But do not let us part
in unkindness. You have not, believe me, a truer
friend,"
"Leave me!" I again exclaimed, "unless you
would see me driven to some act of insanity."
He slowly left the room, and I stole to my
chamber, to which my trembling limbs could
scarcely bear me, like a degraded and guilty
creature, whose heart was torn between the con
flicting emotions of love and shame. When I
reflected that I had poured into the ear of the hus
band of another, the mad, the immodest avowal
of a passion, which I could no longer enteriain,
or he reciprocate, without guilt and infamy, the
deepest sense of humiliation took possession of
my mind. I writhed in mental torture under
this degrading consciousness of my own folly;
tears of agony flowed down my burning cheeks;
and I dreaded to meet the light of day, descried
and despised, as I now felt myself to be.
Jealousy also added its sharp pangs to those
inflicted by disappointed love and shame. He,
whom alone, I ever really, truly loved, was now
lavishing on another those marks of affection,
which 1 once believed would be mine, and mine
only. Nay, was perhaps, at that moment re
peating to her my indelicate, my inexcusable
conduct.
When had he married, and how had it occur-
AN ELDERLY LADY. 181
red, that the intelligence of his nuptials had not
reached my ears? It was strange; it was unac
countable!!
Never shall I forget the anguish I endured that
night. Sleep deigned not to visit my pillow for
even a few brief moments; and 1 counted the
weary hours as the clock told them, wishing that
each might be the last of an existence now ren
dered hateful to me.
I arose when day had dawned, and endea
vored, by the application of rose water, to
remove from my eyes the redness occasioned by
weeping. My temples throbbed with pain, and
my limbs ached; yet, though severely suffering
from indisposition, I could still think of guard
ing appearances ; and before my maid had en
tered my chamber, I had succeeded in amelio
rating, if not in effacing the symptoms of rny
grief, sufficiently to make the old excuse of " a
severe headache" explain the cause of my altered
looks.
" There has been a new married couple in the
house, last night, my lady," said my femme
de chambre, with that craving desire to commu
nicate intelligence peculiar to her class. " The
Marquis of Clydesdale and his bride. They
were married yesterday morning, your ladyship;
and are on their road to one of his lordship s
fine country seats. The bride is a great beauty,
and is a daughter to the Duke of Biggleswade. I
knew the lady s maid in my last place, and she
told me all about it after her ladyship had gone to
bed."
I dismissed Mrs. Tomlinson for a cup of strong
coffee, anxious to abridge her communications,
every word of which inflicted a fresh pang; and
trembling lest she should prate of the love of the
VOL. I. 16
182 THE CONFESSIONS OF
happy couple, which I had not yet acquired suf
ficient fortitude to hear of, without the risk of
betraying emotions that might give rise to suspi
cions of the state of my heart.
How strange, and oh! how much to be re
gretted, was the coincidence of my finding myself
in the same house with Lord Clydesdale, and on
such an occasion ! Yet this meeting was occa
sioned wholly by own obstinacy in resisting the
entreaties of my late host and hostess to prolong
my stay with them for another day. Had I
yielded, how much of humiliation had I been
spared! But it was fated that through life my
wilfulness was to draw down its own punish
ment.
How was 1 to act towards Lady Walsingham?
Should I confess my interview with my ci devant
lover, and the mortifying position in which I had
placed myself, trusting to her affectionate sym
pathy for an alleviation of the misery I was
enduring? I longed to give a free course to the
pent tears, that were every moment struggling te
start forth; and to weep on that gentle bosom
which had from early youth so often supported
my aching head, when pain or sorrow had as
sailed me.
But pride, ungovernable pride, forbade this
indulgence; and dictated a line of conduct which
added to my chagrin, by rendering deception
and hypocrisy absolutely necessary. Oh! the
martyrdom of smiling when tears are ready to
gush forth; of talking on indifferent subjects when
all thoughts and feelings are concentrated on a
prohibited one; or of speaking on that one with
an assumed carelessness, to support the appear
ance of which, requires a self-control almost
beyond the .reach of woman.
AN ELDERLY LADY. 183
Yet this was the conduct I adopted ; for not
even to Lady Walsingham, dearly as I knew she
loved me, and implicitly as I was aware that I
might confide in her, could my pride permit me
to relate the truth; however soothing might be
the tender sympathy it could not fail to awaken.
No! I would affect a perfect indifference on the
suhject of Lord Clydesdale s marriage ; and
whatever the effect might cost me, no human
being should discover the agony I was enduring.
It is thus that our own defects, and there is not
a more pernicious one in its consequences than
pride, adds new stings to the misfortunes that
assail us. Disappointment loses half its bitter
ness when it is confided to some affectionate
friend who listens with sympathy, and who
shares if she cannot alleviate the sting. Yet of
this consolation did I deprive myself, urged by
that indomitable pride that had so often led me
astray; and which was the severest avenger of
the follies it had occasioned, by rendering me
still more deeply conscious of their humiliating
effects.
When I met Lady Walsingham at breakfast,
no word of hers indicated her knowledge that
Lord and Lady Clydesdale had sojourned be
neath the same roof with us the night before;
that they were in fact still beneath it. I had
risen much earlier than my accustomed hour,
anxious to quit the inn before those 1 so much
wished to avoid had left their chamber. But
my evil destiny still pursued me ; for, while
Lady Walsingham and I stood at the window
impatiently waiting to hear our travelling car
riage announced, that of Lord Clydesdale drove
up to the door to receive its owners. To with
draw from the window would be to expose my
184 THE CONFESSIONS OP
secret feelings to Lady Walsingham; and there
fore I stood, with the semblance of calmness,
though my very heart throbbed with intense
pain. She made some excuse for absenting
herself from the room, and I thanked her for
this delicate attention; though I feared it indi
cated a knowledge of my weakness that I had
hoped sfye had not acquired. I was, conse
quently, left alone, and determined, whatever
pain the effort might cost me, to behold the
wife of him, to whom / had hoped to have
stood in that near and dear relation. I waited
not long, for in a few minutes the bridegroom
led forth his bride, and assisted her to ascend
the carriage. There was an affectionate solici
tude apparent in the performance of even this
trivial action, that indicated a more than ordi
nary tenderness, and therefore inflicted an acute
pang on my heart. There was a time when /
was the object of similar attentions from him;
attentions performed with an earnestness of affec
tion more flattering to her who received them,
than all that mere gallantry ever suggested.
The person of Lady Clydesdale was tall and
graceful, and her face, of which, when she was
seated in the carriage I had a full view, was
one of the most beautiful I had ever beheld. Its
surpassing loveliness too well explained why
mine was forgotten; and as I gazed on it for the
few minutes that intervened ere the servants
were ready to start, 1 fancied that I might have
better borne his marriage had the object of his
selection been less beautiful. Yet perhaps it
was well for me that her loveliness had made
such a forcible impression on my mind; for,
from the moment I had beheld her, I never
could think of him without associating her
AN ELDERLY LADY. 185
image with his. Hence, by slow degrees I
learned to repress the painful recollection of
my unhappy disclosure; but not until many a
bitter thought and sleepless night had expiated
my folly.
Lady Walsingham never recurred to the sub
ject ; and I, though anxious to display my affect
ed indifference by conversing on it with non
chalance, had not resolution sufficient to name
it. Her affectionate attentions to me seemed to
increase daily, and strange to say, not unfre-
quently occasioned me more of pain than plea
sure, as I fancied they originated in the pity
excited by the contrast of our respective pros
pects.
On arriving at Walsingham Castle, the neigh
boring nobility and gentry again flocked to visit
me. Among them was one, whom at my for
mer s&jour in the country I had not seen, though
his name was frequently mentioned. Lord
Wyndermere was then on the continent; and
was represented to me as a man of great personal
attractions and accomplishments, with a highly
cultivated mind. His father had been so extra
vagant as to leave his estate heavily incumbered
at his death; and his successor s income was re
presented as being totally inadequate to the sup
port of his rank and station.
As a boy, Lord Wyndermere had been much
beloved in the neighborhood, and was now
always spoken of with respect and regard. He
had only lately returned to Wyndermere Abbey,
a fine old seat about ^twenty miles distant from
mine, where he was residing with a very limited
establishment; but his society was universally
sought and appreciated in the circle in which
I lived.
186 THE CONFESSIONS OP
We soon met; and I found that report had
not exaggerated his merits. A thoughtfulness
of manner, amounting almost to pensiveness, dis
tinguished him from the common herd of young
men, whose frivolity and gaiety never appeared
to greater disadvantage than when contrasted
with his mild seriousness. This gravity, so un
usual at his age, was generally attributed to the
straitened circumstances in which he found him
self placed; and it served to increase the interest
he excited. His poverty, and the dignified
equanimity with which it was borne, was a pass
port to my favor; which was the more readily
yielded to him, from his making no effort to ac
quire it.
He was polite to all; but there was a reserve
in his very politeness that precluded familiarity;
and to me, he was less attentive though always
scrupulously well bred than to any other of the
ladies who formed our society. I am fully per
suaded, that had Lord Wyndermere possessed
affluence, he would have only created a common
place sentiment of good will in my mind:
but his high birth and scanty means awakened
a thousand of those romantic and commiserating
thoughts and feelings peculiar to women, which
generally terminate in the creation of a warm in
terest in their minds at least, if not in their hearts.
I often detected him gazing on me, and
observed, that on such occasions, he seemed
embarrassed, and avoided looking at me again
for some time. Though I was ready to admit
the superiority of Lord Wyndermere over most
part of the men of my acquaintance, I never
theless considered him immeasurably inferior to
Lord Clydesdale; and the consciousness of this
inferiority, which never forsook me, precluded
AN ELDERLY LADY. 187
me from entertaining any warmer sentiments
towards him, than esteem and pity. Notwith
standing my indifference, after a month or two
had elapsed, during which period we frequently
met, I began to he piqued as well as surprised,
at discovering that he was more assiduous to any
or every woman of our circle than to myself.
His attentions to them, however, never exceeded
that polite gallantry so universally adopted by
all gentlemen at that period; still, to me, he
was more cold, more ceremonious, and avoided,
rather than sought occasions for conversing with
me. Yet when 1 have been talking to others
I have remarked, with a truly feminine vigil
ance, that he invariably ceased speaking, and
listened with a deep interest. This incon
sistency of behavior aroused a certain degree
of curiosity in my mind; and that w r oman is
in danger in whom this sentiment is awakened.
Pity and curiosity are said to be exclusive attri
butes of the female character; the first I do
believe to be a distinctive feature; but the
second, and less amiable quality, appertains
equally to both sexes. I will leave to casuists
to determine which of the two sexes are the
more entirely influenced by it, while I acknow
ledge that 1 was governed by both at this epoch;
even though the wound inflicted on my peace
by the late death-blow to its long cherished
hopes, still bled and rankled.
Lord Westonville now came to claim his
bride, and for the first time of my life, I found
myself de trop, though in my own house. His
brief separation from the object of his affection
served to increase his passion for her. He had
eyes only for her, was never happy when she
was not present; and notwithstanding his good
188 THE CONFESSIONS OF
breeding, it was obvious, that the presence of a
third person was by no means agreeable to him.
He was anxious that the honey moon should be
passed tete-a-tete-, but how was this natural wish
to be accomplished without leaving me unpro
tected? an indecorum not to be tolerated in the
good old times of etiquette and propriety to
which I refer.
1 quickly discovered, by various nameless
trifles, all that was passing in the mind of my
stepmother s future husband; and the discovery
awakened serious reflections in my breast. If
I thus felt the-annoyance of being de trop in my
own house, how much more unbearable would
it become when I found myself in his; and yet
to dwell without a chaperon was impossible.
The few female relatives who might have rilled
this onerous office towards me, were all too per
sonally disagreeable to me, to admit of my sub
mitting to their society.
What therefore was I to do, or where bestow
my person for even a few weeks, while ma belle
mere, was enacting the part of bride ? I was
positively humiliated, as all these puerile annoy
ances presented themselves to my imagination:
-my dependent position galled my vanity, and
led to some sober reflections on the advantages
of a wedded life, which precluded the necessity of
chaperons. Sincere and warm as was my attach
ment to Lady Walsingham, Jxgould not at all tole
rate the idea of forminga tiers in her future domes
tic circle, with the consciousness that my presence
would bean irksome restraint on her lord. Then
to find myself always a secondary object, a conti
nual w itness to the homages offered to another.
No! it was not to be borne; and I almost "wished
that heaven had made me such a man." Yet not
AN ELDERLY LADY. 189
exactly quite such a man; but in short some con-
venable parti, whose presence would relieve me
from all necessity of chaperons; and whose de
voted attentions would convince me, that I too
might be worshipped in my own temple.
While making these reflections, shall I confess
that the handsome, but serious, face of Lord
Wynderrnere more than once occurred to my
mind? He would not have been an unsuitable
husband; for though poor, he, it was quite evi
dent, was no fortune hunter; and his family was
as ancient and noble as my own. It would have
been very desirable also, to prove to those in
general, who might suspect my former attach
ment to Lord Clydesdale, and to that individual
himself in particular, that it never could have
been of a serious character, by my so speedily
following his example in marrying. But it was
useless for me to think of this subject, as it was
quite obvious Lord Wyndermere had never be
stowed a thought upon it. Nevertheless, I did
think of it occasionally, and especially when the
sighs and whispers of the doting Lord Weston-
ville reminded me that my presence interrupted
the impassioned eloquence of his conversation to
his future bride.
One of the nearest of my neighbors was a very
handsome widow, a Mrs. Temple Clarendon,
remarkable for the fascination of her manners,
and the exemplary propriety of her conduct.
Left a widow at twenty-two, with an enormous
jointure, the whole of which was to be forfeited
in case of her contracting a second marriage,
she, now in the fourth year of her widowhood,
appeared to have renounced all thoughts of ma
trimony, and was but lately returned from the
Continent, where she had spent three years, I
190 THE CONFESSIONS OP
quickly formed an intimacy with this lady: con
genial tastes and habits cemented it into friend
ship, and I considered it as peculiarly fortunate,
when, having confided- to her my embarrassment
with regard to accompanying ma belle mere on
her honeymoon expedition, she obviated the dif
ficulty by kindly and warmly soliciting me to
take up my abode with her during the absence
of the future Lady Westonville.
I yielded a ready assent Lord Westonville
looked as if he thought the plan an admirable
one, though he feebly uttered something about
regretting the loss of my society; and Lady Wal-
singham, though really loth to be separated from
me, acceded to a project that seemed to afford me
so much satisfaction.
The nuptials took place a few days after. The
same number of white favors, and the same
quantity of bride-cake, were distributed, as is
customary on such occasions; the same splendid
dejeuner was partaken of. and the quantum of
tears shed. When this established portion of
the performance had been exhibited, the whole
was orthodoxly concluded by a new and tasteful
equipage, with postillions and outriders decked
with wedding favors, whirling the bride and
bridegroom from the door.
I could not see her, who had been my kind
and attached companion for so many years, de
part without deep regret. It brought back to
me the recollection of the days of my youth, and
of that fond father who was in the grave. But
Mrs. Temple Clarendon, who was present, soon
cheered me by her attentions; and, by the time
we had reached her dwelling, my spirits were
restored to their wanted tone.
The next day, we dined at a neighboring
AN ELDERLY LADY. 191
nobleman s and there we met Lord Wynder-
mere, and to my no slight annoyance, Sir Au
gustus Fauconberg, the friend of Lord Clydes
dale ; he whose disclosure of the motive of his
friend s absence on the anniversary of the death
of his first love, had led to our separation. He
was associated in my mind with one of the most
painful events of my life, an event which he, in
a great measure, caused ; and, therefore, I dis
liked him. To this objection to meeting him
again was added the fear that he might disclose
my former engagement to Lord Clydesdale ;
every reference to which 1 detested ever since
he had become the husband of another. I soon
found that Mrs. Temple Clarendon was an old
acquaintance of his; Lord Wyndermere also had
met him on the Continent; and I felt any thing but
gratified when I heard her engage both gentle
men to meet a party at her house the ensuing day.
During the evening I accompanied the Ladies
Percival, the daughters of our host, into a con
servatory that communicated with the suite of
drawing-rooms, and into which the windows of
several of them opened. While admiring some
rare plants on the pyramidal stand, which com
pletely concealed me from those in the drawing-
room, I heard Sir Augustus Fauconberg observe
to Lord Wyndermere, that I seemed to have
quite surmounted my attachment for Lord Cly
desdale. Curiosity rivetted me to the spot; and,
luckily, my companions were too far distant to
hear what was passing.
" Is it possible that Lady Arabella Walsing-
ham ever could have loved in vain?" exclaimed
Lord Wyndermere.
" Why, not exactly that," replied Fauconberg,
and I hated him from that moment, " Clydes-
192 THE CONFESSIONS OF
dale was very much in love with her, and they
were on the point of being married; that is,
they were affianced, and all that sort of thing.
But she took it into her imperious little head,
(and I can assure you a devilish proud head it is,)
that because he had once loved before, and still
retained a mournful recollection of her he had
loved, she, forsooth, was ill-used; and so, (can
you believe such folly?) she wrote a haughly
letter to poor Clydesdale, commanding him to
see her no more. You have no idea how long
and severely he suffered from this capricious
conduct of hers; for he was really attached to
her, and she too, I fancy, liked him extremely."
What were my feeling-sat hearing this!
" How any man that Lady Arabella had once
honored with her preference could think of,
much less bestow his hand on another, appears
to me almost incredible; for she is a woman that
once seen, can never be forgotten," said Lord
Wyndermere.
" Hang me, if you are not a little smitten
yourself," replied Fauconberg. " Why not en
deavor to render the sentiment reciprocal ?
With her vast fortune, and your encumbered
one, it would be the very wisest plan in the
world. 7
I was all ear, and listened with intense anxiety
to this discourse.
" It is precisely because she has a vast for
tune, and 1 an encumbered one, that I must
never think of her. I am too proud to become a
suitor to the heiress, though I could worship the
woman, and< "
Here the Ladies Percival approached ; and,
fearful that they might discover that I had been
an eaves- dropper, 1 quietly joined them, and
AN ELDERLY LADY. 193
sauntered towards another part of the conser
vatory.
This overheard conversation made a deep im
pression on me. Now was the reserve of Lord
Wyndermere explained, and explained in a man
ner most flattering to my vanity, and creditahle
to his feelings. What pride and delicacy did his
sentiments evince! Handsome and agreeahle as
I had hitherto considered him, he was now in
vested with fresh attractions in my mind; and I
felt elated at the conquest I had achieved. Yes,
his was indeed a heart worth captivating; he
could not even imagine that / could love in
vain, nor believe that a person once preferred by
me could ever think of another.
These two concise and simple sentences con
tained a compliment more gratifying to my
amour propre than all the eulogiums that ever
had been poured into my ear; and what woman
forgets, or remains indifferent to the man, who
considers her irresistible?
Anxious to disprove the assertion of my former
attachment to Lord Clydesdale, I now assumed
a more than ordinary gaiety. 1 referred with an
air of perfect indifference to past scenes in
Italy; had even resolution enough to name Lord
Clydesdale, and spoke of his marriage, as if he
had never stood in any other relation to me than
a mere common acquaintance. I stole a glance
at Lord Wyndermere, to observe what effect
this seeming indifference had on him; and was
gratified by remarking that his countenance
betrayed a more than usual expression of satis
faction.
From this evening, I found myself continually
in the society of my new admirer. Invited to
the same houses, we were drawn together without
VOL. I. 17
194 THE CONFESSIONS OP
either of us having the air of seeking any inter
course. By degrees, his reserve wore away, and
his looks and manner assumed more of softness
and tenderness towards me. Still, no word of
love was breathed; and I, to say the truth, began
to fear his objections to an heiress were indeed
insurmountable. It was not that I loved, or even
fancied that I loved him; for the depth and force
of my former unhappy attachment had been such
as to convince me I should never love again. But
the peculiarity of my position, and my dislike to
finding myself en tiers with Lord and Lady
Westonville, led me to think with complacency
of avoiding such a dilemma by rewarding the
romantic and disinterested affection of Lord
Wyndermere with my hand and fortune.
Affairs stood in this position, when the absence
of the new married couple, which, from the
arranged four weeks of its duration, had grown
into twice that length of time, was drawing to a
close: and I was thinking, with no pleasurable
feelings, of enacting the part of witness to their
connubial felicity, when Mrs. Temple Clarendon
asked me whether I had observed how much
smitten with me poor Lord Wyndermere was. I
affected to doubt the truth of tbe statement; and
remarked that a man in love was not likely to be
so reserved and distant with the object of it.
This led to an animated declaration on her
part that she had been aware of his violent and
hopeless passion from its commencement, which
dated from the day he beheld me for the first
-time. She eloquently painted his despair at
feeling an attachment which, from the difference
in our fortunes, must be a hopeless one; but
which, nevertheless, would terminate but with
his existence. His pride and delicacy opposed
AN ELDERLY LADY. 195
obstacles to his avowal of his feelings, which a
belief that they were not repugnant to me could
alone overcome; and she entreated, nay, implored
that I would authorise her, who was the sincere
and disinterested friend of both Lord Wynder-
mere and myself, to give him to understand that
he was not disagreeable to me. The warmth
and earnestness of her pleading won on me; and,
aided by the insidious foe within my breast,
vanity, led me to believe all that she asserted.
She particularly dwelt on the circumstance of
Lord Wyndermere s having hitherto never felt
the influence of the tender passion, a circum
stance, above all others, the most calculated to
gratify my fastidious and jealously disposed
mind; and, as memory reverted to the pangs I
had formerly endured from the knowledge of
my former suitor s prior attachment, I reflected
with complacency that in the present instance no
such painful reminiscences could ever wound me.
I should be the only idol ever worshipped in the
shrine of his heart that heart which proved its
delicacy and refinement by having so long resist
ed all the blandishments of female attractions,
reserving itself for me and me alone!
The consequence of these reflections was, that
I suffered Mrs. Temple Clarendon to whisper
hope to her friend; and, in a few minutes after
he was at my feet. But, though he breathed
vows, whose fervor were well calculated to esta
blish in my mind the conviction of his love, he
left me in doubt whether his pride did not still
oppose an insuperable barrier to our union. He
described the humiliating position of a man de
pendent on a wife, and always subject to the
mortifying, the degrading suspicion, of having
been influenced to marry her by mercenary mo-
196 THE CONFESSIONS OP
lives. So eloquently and feelingly did he speak
on this subject, that it required no inconsiderable
encouragement on my part to reconcile him to
the idea; for, won by the passionate ardor of his
manner, 1 was, or fancied myself, touched by
something approaching to a sympathy with his
sentiments.
In short, when Mrs. Temple Clarendon joined
the conference, and urged that, although an heir
ess, my attractions were too prominent to admit
a doubt of their being the whole and sole charm
in a lover s eyes, Lord Wyndermere s scruples
were vanquished; and I consented to receive
him as my accepted suitor. He was all gratitude
and rapture; and / indulged in that self-compla
cency peculiar to vain people, when their amour
propre has been gratified, and their pride flattered
by conferring an obligation.
I returned to Walsingham Castle in time to
receive Lord and Lady Westonville; who, all
smiles and happiness, offered a perfect picture of
conjugal felicity. Never had two months pro
duced a more complete metamorphosis on any
human being, than in ma belle mere. The ob
ject of unceasing attention and doting love, her
presence conferring delight on her husband, and
her slightest wish a law, she had acquired a
cheerfulness and self confidence that lent her
new charms, without having lost any of that win
ning gentleness which had always characterised
her.
When, during the very first evening of our
meeting. 1 observed the all-engrossing attention
she excited, and the evident gene and constraint
my presence imposed on her husband, I inwardly
rejoiced that in a short time her chaperonage
would no longer be required. She also, sincerely
AN ELDERLY LADY. 197
as she was attached to me, had, during our sepa
ration, learned too well to appreciate the comforts
of a home where she alone was worshipped, not
to experience a restraint at the prospect of be
coming a permanent guest in mine.
This state of their feelings, though both of
them endeavored to conceal it, was thoroughly
visible to my keen perception; and I anticipated
the satisfaction with which they would hail their
freedom from the wearying thraldom of chape-
ronage. I was not disappointed. They listened
to my avowal of my engagement with evident
pleasure, approved my choice, and we all three
appeared to become more attached to each other,
in the anticipation of our mutual release.
The next day brought Mrs. Temple Claren
don, intent on the momentous business of mar
riage settlements. She had many suggestions
to offer, all based on the absolute necessity of
taking measures to avoid wounding the pride and
delicacy of Lord Wyndermere s sentiments. His
poverty, she said, rendered him so susceptible,
that / must place him in a state of perfect inde
pendence ; and that, without consultation or
reference to him. I was as ready to act on this
suggestion as she was to offer it; but I had only
a life interest in my estates, they being strictly
entailed on any children I might have. The
personal property I was at liberty to bequeath;
and I determined on placing it as his disposal.
My guardians offered many objections to this
scheme, but 1 was resolute; and the more so,
from observing the perfect disinterestedness of
my future husband. To be sure, had he even
been disposed to study his own interest, he never
could have more effectually taken care of it than
by trusting to our mutual iriend, Mrs. Temple
17*
198 THE CONFESSIONS OF
Clarendon; who was indefatigable in her exer
tions and counsel on this subject.
In due time, the law s delays having been
abridged of half their tediousness, by the perse
vering endeavors of Mrs. Temple Clarendon, 1
was led to the hymeneal altar, nothing loth ;
but with no warmer sentiment towards him on
whom I bestowed my hand and fortune, than an
admiration of his personal attractions and a sense
of gratitude for his devoted attachment.
Months rolled on, his attention to me unremit
ting, and my affection to him daily increasing,
awakened into life by the constant and impas
sioned demonstrations of his. I was now in that
state in which ladies are said to " wish to be who
love their lords ;" and I looked forward with
feelings of new delight to the prospect of becom
ing a mother: when, one day, Lord Wynde.rmere,
in returning from his accustomed ride, was thrown
from his horse, brought home senseless, and ex
pired in a few hours.
I will not dwell on the affliction into which
this sad event plunged me. For many weeks
my life was in imminent danger: and the hope
of maternity deserted me, now when such a
blessing alone could have consoled me for the
bereavement I had sustained.
Those who have lost a husband, ere he had
ceased to be a lover, ere a frown had ever curved
his brow, or a harsh word escaped his lips, can
alone imagine the grief and desolation of my
heart at this calamity. The very circumstance
of my belief in the passionate fervor of his love,
and the consciousness that mine was of a much
less warm character, being in fact only an affec
tionate friendship founded on a grateful sense of
his devotion to me, added to the poignancy of
AN ELDERLY LADY. 199
my regret. I reproached myself for having pre
viously to my acquaintance with him, exhausted
the energies of my heart in an attachment to
another, while he had reserved all the warmth of
his for me. The soothing attentions of Lady
Westonville, who, with her lord, had flown to
me the moment that intelligence of my bereave
ment had reached her, were ineffectually used to
console me. I encouraged rather than attempted
to subdue my grief; for an oblivion of it appeared
to me nothing short of an insult to the memory
of the dead. How I wished to have Mrs. Tem
ple Clarendon with me; she, who so highly
esteemed the dear departed, could better sym
pathise with my regret than Lady Weston
ville, who had seen too little of him to be
aware of his merits. But unfortunately, Mrs.
Temple Clarendon was absent from England;
having made an excursion to the south of France
two months before for the benefit of her health,
which had lately been in a declining state.
I used to take a melancholy pleasure, when
again able to leave my chamber, in sitting for
hours in the dressing room of my lost husband,
in which 1 had ordered every thing appertain
ing to his toilette and wardrobe to be left as
when he inhabited it. The books he had pre
served and marked, the unfinished letters on
his table were now become dear and precious
mementos of him in my eyes. Why was I
so unfortunate as to be deprived of this con
solation, melancholy though it was ? and why
did my evil stars conduct me to a discovery that
banished all soft regrets, and rendered me for
the rest of my existence, cold, suspicious, and
unloving?
In an unlucky hour, my heart still filled with
200 THE CONFESSIONS OP
fond remembrances of my husband, it occurred to
me to open his escritoir, the key of which hung
to the chain of his watch, which now always
rested on my table as a sacred relic. Its drawers
contained only a few letters of little interest
from friends ; and the billets I had written to
him during the epoch that intervened from my
acceptance of him to our marriage. I bedewed
them with my tears, as I marked how carefully
he had arranged and treasured them ; and my
regret was renewed by this little proof of affec
tion. In replacing them a burst of weeping led
me to incline my head on both arms on the
desk part of the escritoir; and in the action, 1
involuntarily pressed a secret spring, which flew
open, and discovered a cavity in which were
many letters and a large gold medallion.
An indescribable presentiment of evil seized
me at the sight; and 1 almost determined on
closing the escritoir, and never to examine the
contents of the secret cavity. Would that 1
had persevered in this resolution! but curiosity,
or a stronger motive prevailed, and I opened the
medallion.
Never shall I forget the feeling of that mo
ment, when the portrait of Mrs. Temple Claren
don, a most striking resemblance, met my asto
nished gaze. No doubt of the relation in which
the original of the picture stood to him, to whom
such a gift was made, could exist; for a long lock
of hair, and an Italian inscription of the warmest
nature but too clearly explained it.
The medallion fell from my trembling hands,
and my eyes involuntarily closed as if to shut
out the sight that had thrust daggers to my
heart. I shook with the violence of my emo
tions, as my tortured brain recalled a thousand
AN ELDERLY LADY. 201
circumstances, received by me as proofs of an
honorable friendship between my husband and
Mrs. Temple Clarendon, but to which the portrait
and its indelicate inscription now lent a totally
different coloring.
So then, I was their dupe! their weak and cre
dulous dupe ! and all my fond dreams of love and
friendship were destroye-d for ever ! Anger,
violent and powerless anger, arose like a whirl
wind in my breast, blighting and searing every
soft and womanly feeling, and replacing the ten
der sorrow that so lately usurped my thought,
by a jealous and impotent rage, that would have
fain called up the dead from his everlasting sleep,
to wreak on him some mighty vengeance.
Burning tears of passion chaced the soft ones
of grief from my eyes. I vowed to punish the
false and vicious woman whose dupe I had been,
by a public exposure of her shame; and 1 was
almost tempted to imprecate curses on the me
mory of him, whose death I had so lately mourn
ed with anguish. The perusal of the letters
nearly maddened me, for the whole nefarious
plot was revealed in them. Lord Wyndemere
had long been the lover of Mrs. Temple Claren
don; but as the unhallowed liaison had taken
place on the Continent, and appearances were
strictly guarded between them, it had never
been talked of in England. When it first
occurred, it was his intention to have mar
ried her, and with her large fortune repair his
decayed one; but on discovering the clause by
which, in case of her forming a second matri
monial alliance, she was to forfeit her wealth,
he abandoned all thought of adopting this course;
especially as she was as little desirous as him
self to forge chains that would reduce her from
202 THE CONFESSIONS OF
splendor, to comparative indigence. She knew
rny wealth, had heard of the weakness and vanity
of my character, and as their passion was no
longer in its first wild hey-day they agreed to
return to England and concoct a plan to catch
the heiress. How well they had succeeded, my
marriage, and the lavish generosity I displayed
towards my disinterested husband, has proved.
Oh! how I loathed them, and despised myself,
as with burning cheeks, throbbing temples, and
tortured heart, 1 perused the details of their arti
fice and guilt.
"I give you great credit," wrote this shame
less woman, "for your ready tact in taking ad
vantage of Lady Arabella s approach in the con
servatory, when you were conversing with Mr.
Fauconberg. The few sentences you uttered
on that occasion, will lay the foundation of the
superstructure I mean to erect. Such are her
vanity and folly, that it only requires a tenth
part of the address we possess, to secure her, and
her fortune. You must enact the silent, despair
ing, but adoring lover, for a short time, and
success will inevitably crown our efforts. After
all she is handsome, and not a greater fool than
nine-tenths of the girls of her age; therefore,
you are not so much to be pitied as you would
fain have me believe. With regard to pecuniary
matters, leave the arrangement of all them to
me; /can suggest what it would appear merce
nary and indelicate in you to propose. Your
role is, to affect a most romantic love, and a
fierte with regard to fortune, that will, aided
by my advice, compel her to display a lavish
generosity."
Each, and all, of the letters, contained similar
proofs of dissimulation, and wickedness. The
AN ELDERLY LADY. 203
correspondence, subsequently to my ill-fated
marriage, was carried on between the guilty
pair with even an increased warmth, leaving no
doubt of their continued criminality; for the last
letter received from this atrocious hypocrite,
stated, that he was wrong to blame her for going
abroad, as, had she longer remained in England,
her increasing shape must have excited sus
picions destructive to that reputation which she
had hitherto so successfully preserved free from
taint.
For many months, the rage and indignation
to which I was a constant prey, sensibly impaired
my health; and change of air and scene having
been prescribed for me, I left England, attended
by a numerous suite, and passed many years in
visiting Germany, Italy, and Sicily. My in
vincible dislike to encountering Mrs. Temple
Clarendon, prevented me from returning to
Walsingham Castle; for, although I had long
abandoned all thoughts of making her conduct
known, 1 felt that 1 could not meet her without
betraying my contempt and dislike.
I kept up a constant correspondence with
Lady Westonville, who became the mother of a
large family, all of whom she lived long enough
to see happily established: and when, after twenty
years absence from my native land, I returned to
its shores, I experienced from her the same
affectionate friendship that had ever characterised
her conduct to me.
The death of Mrs. Temple Clarendon re
moved my principal objection to returning to
Walsingham Castle. She died, as she had lived,
maintaining, until the last, a hypocritical de
corum, that served to conceal her vices. She
bequeathed a considerable fortune to a young
204 THE CONFESSIONS OF
French lady, whom she had, some twenty years
before, adopted: and whom she represented as
the orphan daughter of a dear friend in the
South of France; but whose remarkable resem
blance to Lord Wyndermere and herself, left no
doubt, on my mind at least, of the relation in
which she had stood to her.
Never shall I forget the feelings I experienced
when, after an absence of above twenty years, I
returned to Walsingham Castle; no longer the
young and blooming creature that had left it,
but the staid, sober, and faded woman of forty-
five; retaining, alas! many of the faults of my
youth, but none of its elasticity of spirits or
hopes.
I had not passed so many years of my life
without receiving several matrimonial overtures,
but they had all been imperiously rejected; for
the deceptive conduct of Lord Wyndermere
had rendered me too suspicious, ever again to
expose myself to the chance of similar treatment.
And yet my heart still yearned for something
to love; some object to lean upon in my descent
to old age, that period in which woman most
needs the support of affection. But if, in the
bloom of youth and beauty, I had been sought
only for my fortune, how could I hope, as these
advantages were fast disappearing, that I could
ever inspire the sentiment so essential to happi
ness? Each year, as its flight stole away some
personal attraction, rendered me still more sus
picious of the professions of regard made to me;
hence, I closed my heart to any new attachment,
though that heart pined for the blessing of sym
pathy and affection.
It was a lovely summer s evening when I ar
rived at Walsingham Castle. A crowd of aged
AN ELDERLY LADY. 205
domestics and retainers pressed forward to wel
come me; and the whole scene so exactly resem
bled that which was presented to me when, nearly
a quarter of a century before, I first visited the
lovely spot, that 1 could almost fancy not more
than a year had elapsed since I last beheld it.
The beauty of the scene, and the joy of those
who welcomed me, encouraged the illusion. My
heart felt lighter than for long years it had been
wont to do; my step became more elastic, as I
again paced the halls of my paternal mansion, and
as I gazed on the well-known objects around,
now tinged by the glowing and golden beams of
the setting sun, some portion of my youth and
its hopes seemed restored to me.
I as -ended to my chamber with nimbler feet
than I had long known; and threw myself into
a bergere, delighted to find myself again in my
ancestral home. The hangings, the tasteful and
elegant furniture, and ornaments of my luxurious
suite of apartments, had been kept carefully co
vered; and now looked as well as in their pristine
freshness. All appeared so exactly as I had left
it, that I was tempted to doubt the possibility
that four-and-twenty years had indeed elapsed
since I had last beheld it.
I removed my bonnet and cloak ; and ap
proached the mirror to arrange my cap, that mir
ror in which I had so often, with pride and plea
sure, contemplated my own image an image
which was still vividly fresh in my recollection.
But when my eyes fell on the one it now reflected,
I drew back affrighted, and all the consciousness
of my altered face for the first time seemed sud
denly to burst upon me. Tears fell from my
eyes yes, weak and foolish as it now appears to
me, I wept for my departed youth; and for that
VOL. I. 18
206 THE CONFESSIONS OF
beauty of which the faithful mirror too plainly
assured me, no remnant existed.
Accustomed to see my face daily, the ravages
that time had made on it had never before struck
me as now. My feelings had grown cold, as my
visage assumed the wrinkles of age; and hitherto
J had scarcely marked the melancholy change in
my aspect ; or if I had remarked, it occasioned
me little regret. But now, when all around me,
looking fresh and unchanged as when first beheld,
brought back the past vividly before me, renew
ing for a few brief moments the joyfulness of
youth, I had been insensibly beguiled into expect
ing to see in the mirror, the same bright face it
had formerly reflected. These were the feelings
that made the sad alteration in my personal as
pect appal me; and I wondered how it had hith
erto caused me so little regret.
It was long ere I could conquer my repugnance
to look in that glass again; but vanity which had
driven me in disgust away, again led me to con
sult it. It whispered that the greater the change
in my face, the greater was the necessity for con
cealing or ameliorating its defects by a studious
attention to dress. Consequently I now devoted
a more than ordinary time to the duties of the
toilette; and in the course of a few months learned
to think, that with the aid of a little art judiciously
applied, I was still what might be called a fine
woman.
A short time afterwards Lady Percival came
to see me, and pressed me to dine at her house.
" You will meet an old acquaintance," said she;
"for Lord Clydesdale is staying with us."
" Is he alone ?" asked 1, in trepidation, my
foolish heart beating with a quicker pulsation.
" Yes," replied Lady Percival, " quite alone;
AN ELDERLY LADY. 207
ever since he lost poor dear Lady Clydesdale,
he comes to us every year to spend a week or
two. "
"What, is Lady Clydesdale dead?" demanded
I, in an agitation that I thought I should never
again experience.
" Is it possible that you did not know it?"
answered she, calmly. Why, she has been
dead these five years; and his only child, a
daughter, has been married above a year to the
Duke of Warrenborough. Poor dear Lady
Clydesdale was a charming person. Do you know,
my dear friend, that many people considered her
to bear a striking likeness to you? It is very
sad and solitary for him to be compelled to live
alone; for, though no longer young, he is still a
very agreeable person."
How many thoughts and hopes did this com
munication awaken ! He, the only man I had
ever really loped, was again free; and a thousand
tender recollections of our former attachment
floated through my mind, as I reflected on his
solitary life so resembling my own. Yes, we
might meet, might again feel some portion of
that affection which once filled our hearts; and,
though in youth we had been separated, we
might now form a union that would enable us to
pass our old age together, released from the
lonely, cheerless solitude in which we both
were placed.
Lady Percival, observing that I had not ac
cepted her invitation, renewed it, adding, u Do
pray come, dear Lady Wyndermere! Lord
Clydesdale will be so disappointed if you do
not; I told him I intended to ask you, and he
said he should be very glad indeed to see you
again."
08 THE CONFESSIONS OF
This sentence decided my acceptance of her
invitation, for it encouraged the fond hopes that
were awakened in my breast; and a thousand
visions of happy days, past and to come, floated
in my imagination.
From the moment that Lady Percival left me,
until the hour, three days afler, that saw me
drive up to her door, I thought of nothing, dreamt
of nothing, but my interview with Lord Clydes
dale. How would he look, how address me,
would he betray any agitation ? were questions
continually occurring to me.
Never had I taken more pains with my dress
than on that momentous day. One robe was
found to be too grave; and another was thrown
aside as not suiting my complexion, half-a-dozen
caps and as many turbans were tried, before the
one deemed the most becoming was determined
on; and I experienced no little portion of embar
rassment, when I observed the astonishment of
my Jemme de ckambre, at this my unusual fas
tidiousness with regard to my toilette. At length,
it was completed; and casting many a lingering
glance at my mirror, I flattered myself that few,
if any, women of my age could have looked bet
ter. If mine was no longer a figure or face to
captivate the young and unthinking, it might
satisfy the less scrupulous taste of the elderly and
reflecting. But above all, he who had seen the
temple in its pristine beauty, would not despise
it now, though desecrated and ravaged by the
hand of time.
As I reflected on the change wrought on my
person by time, that foe to beauty, the thought of
how the destroyer s touch might have operated
on his occurred to me. Was lie very much al
tered? But no! age might have taken from the
AN ELDERLY LADY. 209
graceful elasticity of his step, added some of her
furrows to his brow, and tinged his dark locks
with its silvery hue, but it could not have de
stroyed the noble and distinguished character of
his manly beauty!
How my heart throbbed as I entered the
library of Lord Percival ! I positively felt as if
not more than twenty summers had flown over
my head ; arid dreaded, yet wished to see Lord
Clydesdale. After the usual salutations had
passed, Lady Percival led me to a large easy
chair; reclined in which, with one foot en
veloped in a fleecy stocking, and a velvet shoe
that looked large enough for an inhabitant of
Brobdignag, was an old man with a rubicund
face, a head, the summit of which was bald and
shining, graced by a few straggling locks of snowy
white.
" This, dear Lady Wyndermere, is your old
acquaintance Lord Clydesdale/ 7 whispered Lady
Percival.
I positively shrank back astonished and incre
dulous.
"Ah! I see you do not recognise me," said
the venerable-looking old gentleman before me,
holding forth a hand on each of the fingers of
which were unseemly protuberances, ycleped
chalk stones. "I am such a martyr to the gout,
that I am unable to rise to receive you, but it
affords me great pleasure to see your ladyship in
such good health."
I could scarcely collect myself sufficiently to
make a suitable reply. All the air-built visions
my fancy had formed for the last few days were
dashed to the earth, as I contemplated the infirm
septagenarian before me, and remembered that
he was only some ten or twelve years my senior;
210 THE CONFESSIONS OP
a circumstance which never occurred to me as
disadvantageous before. Not a trace of his
former personal attractions remained; nay, it
would be difficult to believe, judging from his
present appearance, that any had ever existed.
It g;ive me, however, some satisfaction, to ob
serve that he seemed surprised at my having
preserved so much of my former comeliness; and
I will own, that I was malicious enough, as Lord
Percival led me to the dining room, to which
Lord Clydesdale was slowly limping, supported
by his valet dc chambre and a crutch, to affect a
much more than ordinary quickness of pace and
agility.
" And this," thought I, "is the man who has
caused me so many sighs, who has inflicted on
me days of care, and nights without sleep."
" The thing seemed really preposterous, and I
could have smiled at my own illusions; illusions
that might have been indulged even to my last
hour, had not one glance at their object dispelled
them for ever.
I took a spiteful pleasure in recounting during
dinner, the long walks i affected to be in the
daily habit of taking; and attempted to avenge
myself on the unconscious object of my resent
ment, for all the pain he had ever inflicted, by
now making him feel the disparity between us.
I caught his eye more than once fixed on my
face; and fancied that its expression indicated
more of surprise or envy, than of tender remi
niscences. Perhaps it was to punish me that
he talked with evident pleasure of the delights
of being a grandpapa ; the new interest it ex
cited when all others had nearly ceased, and
the refuge it afforded against that dreary and
loveless solitude to which childless old age was
exposed,
AN ELDERLY LADY. 211
This was the last day of my illusions; or of
my being enabled to enact the youthful.
To diminish the ungraceful expansion of my
figure, I had discarded two under draperies, in
the shape of quilted silk petticoats. This impru
dent piece of coquetry exposed me to a severe
cold; from the effects of which I never entirely
recovered: and I now suffer from a weakness of
the lirnbs, that nearly precludes my moving
without assistance. The "childless, loveless"
solitude to which, alas ! I find myself con
demned, frequently reminds me of Lord Clydes
dale s remarks on such a fate: and I am forced
to admit that time would pass more happily in
caressing a race of dear chubby grandchildren,
than in the vain task of correcting the disagree
able personal habits of my poor Dame, de Com-
pagnie. Ay, or than even in committing these
Confessions to paper, in the as vain hope of being
amused, or of amusing; in which last disappoint
ment I fear that my readers will only have too
much reason to sympathise with me.
THE END.
SAM SI.ICK.
Second Edition.
Carey, Lea & Blanchard have just published
the second edition of The Sayings and Doings of
Samuel Slick, of Slickville.
" The cheerful sage, when solemn dictates fail,
Conceals the moral counsel in a tale."
IN ONE VOL. 12mo.
CONTENTS.
Chapter Slick s Letter 1, The Trotting
Horse 2, The Clockmaker 3, The Silent
Girls 4, Conversations at the River Philip 5,
Justice Pettifog 6, Anecdotes 7, Go Ahead
8, The Preacher that wandered from his Text
9, Yankee Eating and Horse Feeding 10, The
Road to a Woman s Heart--The Broken Heart
11, Cumberland Oysters produce melancholy
forebodings 12, The American Eagle 13, The
Lockmaker s Opinion of Halifax 14, Sayings
and Doings in Cumberland 15, The Dancing
Master Abroad 16, Mr. Slick s Opinion of the
British 17 ? A Yankee Handle for a Halifax
Blade IS, The Grahamite and the Irish Pilot
19, The Clockmaker Quilts a Blue Nose 20,
Sister Sail s Courtship 21, Setting up for Go
vernor 22, A Cure for Conceit 23, The Blow
in Time 24, Father John O Shaughnessy 25,
Taming a Shrew 26, The Minister s Horn Mug
27, The White Nigger 28, Fire in the Dairy
29, A Body without a Head 30, A Tale of
Bunker Hill 31, Gulling a Blue Nose 32,
Too many Irons in the Fire 33, Windsor and
the Far West.
14 DAY USE
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