CHAPTER II.
A VISIT TO THE NEW-MADE MINISTER'S WIFE.
When Lord Albert had sent his note of inquiry to Lady Adeline Seymour, he proceeded to Downing-street to meet Lord Glenmore, there to enter on his official duties; and, notwithstanding the agitation of his mind on other subjects, he went prepared to commence his new career with that glow of ardour, which, when tempered by prudence, is so conducive to honourable success. The reports which had so strongly prevailed for the last two days in the great world, of Lord Glenmore's appointment in the ministry, and of Lord Albert D'Esterre's being joined with him in the office which he had accepted, were now confirmed by a public announcement of the changes that had taken place.
Of course there were different opinions as to the eligibility of the measures resorted to, as there always are in similar cases; but which were, for the most part, formed according to the interests and wishes of opposing parties, without any real feeling or care for the public welfare: but, fortunately for the well-being of that public, there are higher powers over-ruling the petty engines of mortal government, and even the evil passions of mankind are sometimes made subservient to the ways of Providence. Henry the Eighth, when he threw off the papal yoke, and became an instrument of mighty and effective operation in the religious and moral destinies of Britain, thought little of any other end than that of securing his own illicit and ambitious projects; but in his day and generation he was the appointed means to bring about that invaluable constitution, which, resting on a firmer basis than mere worldly wisdom could devise, we may be confident will always have able defenders raised up for its support—whether they be those who pursue worldly ends alone, and entertain no other dream in their philosophy, or whether some hand of conscientious and religious principle guide the helm: not that the choice of persons can therefore be indifferent, for human means are still to be employed for human measures; only that in this circumstance, as in all others, there remains a point of confiding refuge to flee to, even when the political horizon appears to good men overcast.
At the present season, when difficulties of an almost insurmountable nature seemed to gather round the minister, and to impede the easy course of government, the accession of such a man as Lord Glenmore, whose character stood too high for any suspicion to attach to his integrity, and whose situation was too independent to admit the surmise of his being influenced by motives of personal interest, was a matter of the last importance: the same might in a degree be said of Lord Albert D'Esterre, with the exception that he was younger, and that this was his first step in the career of his public life.
To Lady Tilney and her political friends, the recent changes were certainly any thing but agreeable; for, so long as Lord Glenmore remained unconnected with party, she considered that he was yet to be gained over to that whose interests she espoused: and Lord Albert D'Esterre having likewise taken the same course, was an additional cause of regret to her; for she had looked upon him as a much easier prize than the other, and one of nearly equivalent value. It was therefore with unqualified disappointment that she heard the confirmation of those fears which the current whisper of the preceding days had not prepared her to receive with calmness.
On Lady Hamlet Vernon, this circumstance acted with a different effect. When she heard the intelligence of the changes in the ministry confirmed, she considered it as an additional circumstance of self-congratulation, superadded to those which had arisen from the occurrence at the Opera and her conversation with Mr. Foley. Lady Hamlet Vernon, though ambitious, was a person attached to no party; and though the love of power was predominant in her nature, it was for the sake of its own exercise, without any reference to any political side of the question: she only saw, therefore, in Lord Albert's appointment, the first step towards a career which would involve him at once in absorbing interests, and leave his mind more easy to be diverted into a channel in accordance with her wishes, and more likely to be drawn off from that attachment which was destructive of them. She thought too, and with some probability, that it was a measure which would be discordant with Lady Adeline's views of private happiness, and might possibly therefore influence the fulfilment of the engagement between her and Lord Albert D'Esterre.
Whilst the parties in question took these two opposite views of the business, there was a third who deplored it in all sincerity of heart, and already sickened under the idea of the protracted absences, and the bustle of the public career, in which she was alternately either to be the sufferer, or be called upon to share: with the sense, however, of submission due in a wife to the interests and views of her husband, she prepared to receive the congratulations of her friends, and to fulfil the duties which she foresaw must attend on her situation, with as much cheerfulness and alacrity as she could command.
Lord Glenmore having told her that concealment was no longer necessary respecting the arrangements now finally adjusted, he bade her in the course of the day acquaint her family with the event; and, on his leaving her, she immediately communicated the intelligence to her parents. The first to congratulate her was Lord Melcombe, who considered the matter as a piece of good fortune, and rejoiced in this addition to his child's happiness. While offering his fond wishes for Lord Glenmore's success, he added, with a smile;
"I think, Georgina, he ought to be satisfied with your first coup d'essai in diplomacy, for you almost persuaded me yesterday that this event was quite as improbable as my own appointment to office."
In the course of the day a host of friends—for what persons in power ever lacked these?—called to pay their compliments to the wife of the newly-created minister: some came from curiosity, some in sincerity, some with envious feelings, and some with views of interest. Among those of the latter class may be enumerated the Leinsengens, the Tenderdens, and the Tilneys, with smiles on their lips and detraction in their hearts; the one not believing Lady Glenmore's indifference to her situation to be real, and the other two, who knew her better, despising her for her childish folly.
"Well, my dear," said the Comtesse Leinsengen, entering her apartment like a figure made of clock-work, that glides into the room on a stand, "let me see how you do look under this changement de decoration; just the same, I declare! est il bien possible?" Staring at her, "Tout cela ne vous fait ni froid ni chaud—dat is impossible. Au reste—you seem de very ting for your poste, et je vous en fait mon compliment; for you will never be at a loss to know vat countenance tenir, as yours does not undergo any change." The beautiful colour which tinged Lady Glenmore's cheek at this speech proved the contrary, as she replied;
"You are mistaken, Comtesse; there are many things which would affect me in a lively manner; and indeed the present subject of your congratulations is far from indifferent to me; but——."
"Allons donc, une confidence; at last we shall know what you do or do not care for," interrupted the Comtesse Leinsengen.
"As far as that confidence goes, certainly. I do not care, for instance, in the least, either for power or place, in as far as regards myself, and I prefer a quiet country life to that of London; but as my husband has considered it right to take this step, I must teach myself to like it too." The announcement of Lady Tenderden and Lady Tilney interrupted this uncongenial tête-à-tête; and the latter, to hide her chagrin and disappointment under an apparent friendly zeal, flew up to Lady Glenmore in her most energetic manner, and assured her, that although she could never agree with Lord Glenmore in politics, yet from personal regard she sincerely wished him joy of his public success, and hoped, that now he had the ball at his foot, he would use it to a good purpose. "It is one thing to be at the bottom of the ladder, and another upon it," she added; "and perhaps we may see Lord Glenmore doing as so many others have done before now, looking down on his old prejudices and mistakes, and taking up quite a different view of the subject."
Lady Glenmore was silent, but received Lady Tilney's expressions of kindness with her usual sweetness and courtesy of manner. Lady Tenderden joined in the congratulation.
"At length, my sweet lady," she said, "you are enthroned, and we all come to do you homage. But how very discreet you were; never betrayed by word, look, or gesture, the secret which you were quite sure of; you are really cut out for the part you have to play. I envy you votre petite air moue et doucereux; don't you, Lady Tilney?"
"Nothing can be better," she replied; "I prophesy that she will play her part well."
"You are all exceedingly obliging," Lady Glenmore replied, "but I have no part to play. My husband, being in the ministry, luckily does not impose any duty upon me, besides that of living more in the world than I might otherwise do."
"Poor lady, I pity you!" said Lady Tenderden ironically.
"You will change your ideas, I foresee that," said Lady Tilney prophetically.
"You will remain just vat you are," said the Comtesse Leinsengen impertinently, when the door opened, and the Duke of Mercington entered.
"I beg you to receive my warmest congratulation, my dear Lady Glenmore," he said, approaching her in his most empressé manner, as if his whole heart was in his words, and bowing to the other ladies slightly as he passed them. "I give you and Glenmore joy alike; him that he has gained his wish, and you in the consciousness that he has done so; for I know that your happiness must be mutual to render it really happiness."
"Oh, duke, I assure you all your compliments are trown away upon dat ladi, on dat subject at least, for she declare not to like to be a minister's wife at all."
"Impossible! she is joking," replied the duke, looking at Lady Glenmore with one of those apparently ingenuous smiles which habit had forced upon his features, and which once were captivating so long as they were natural; "impossible that you who were formed to shine in society should shrink from a situation for which you are so singularly well adapted."
"You are too good, duke, and I accept your flattering judgment upon credit, for I have not been tried yet, and I may disappoint you."
"Oh never, we all know how charming you are; don't we, Lady Tilney?"
"Yes, duke, you know we all bow to your judgment in every thing, and I am sure we shall not begin to differ on this point," she replied, with an air of pique that was ill concealed under an affected bonhommie.
"We are not come here," said the Leinsengen, whispering to Lady Tenderden, "to listen to all his fadaises; c'est le radotage dat we have been used to hear uttered by turns to every object of a fresh engouement for these last ten years." Then gliding up to Lady Glenmore, she added, "I am quite charmed to see you en des mains si sures, persons who vill give you such excellent advice; and now dat I have rendered you mes hommages, I make mes adieus. Monsieur le duc, I hope to see you at my next levée; Lady Glenmore of course; Lady Tilney, au revoir." And then, when she reached the door, "Ah ça, by de way, vill you, Lady Tenderden, go vid me to-night to le théàtre Français?"
"I should be delighted, but I am engaged to Lady Glenmore. Is not this our evening?" turning to the latter.
"Yes; but I beg you will not consider that binding."
"Oh but I do, though, so you must go with me."
"Of course," said the Comtesse Leinsengen contemptuously, "I am extremely sorry, mais il faut se consoler;" and turning, she glided away, but first whispered to Lady Tilney as she passed, "We shall have nothing now but this tiresome petite nouveauté;" and she shrugged her shoulders and departed.
"What is the matter with the comtesse?" asked the Duke of Mercington; "that air d'imperatrice enragée does not at all become her."
"No," replied Lady Glenmore, laughing, "I never knew any one that it did."
"Some persons," rejoined the duke, "some dark beauties, may look well under the effect of a storm, though I confess I had always rather see the lambent flame than the forked lightning;" and he looked his implied admiration of Lady Glenmore.
Lady Tilney did not know exactly what part to play in a scene where she felt she was not the principal, although it is said there have been times and seasons when she thought it politic to kiss even the foot of a person placed in a situation of imaginary greatness, and whose favour she forgot herself so far as to court. She had come, however, to Lady Glenmore with other views than either those of curiosity or congratulation. Lady Tilney felt, that in the situation which Lady Glenmore now held, she might with ease have led a party in society independent of Lady Tilney or any of her coterie; and a fear that she might take this step determined her on endeavouring, by counsel and an assumption of directing how Lady Glenmore should conduct herself in her station, to obtain in the first instance an influence over her, and hold her in subserviency to her own wishes regarding society. She saw, therefore, the Duke of Mercington and several others, who had come and gone on the same errand, take their leave with satisfaction, and seized the first moment when she was alone with Lady Glenmore to say:
"Now, my dear Lady Glenmore, you, I am sure, will believe, that of all who have paid their court to you on this happy event, there is no one more sincere than myself: but I will go a step further than any other of your friends, though perhaps I may be giving you offence; I would counsel, I would advise you; for yours, my dear Lady Glenmore, you will find to be a situation of some delicacy: there will be so many ready to take offence if you do not do all they ask or expect of you; and yet, you know, you must not compromettez yourself, nor our society; you must, in short, be discreet, and not too good-humoured. It will require great tact to please those whom I am sure you wish to please, and to give offence to none. Now Glenmore will be constantly engaged, and you cannot expect him to give due attention to these affaires de société. I really wish, that if ever you feel in any difficulty, you would consider me as your friend, always ready to serve you; apply to me, and I will give you my best advice: there are many, I know, who will be ready to do the same thing by you, but beware of those in whom you repose confidence. For instance, between ourselves, there is the Comtesse Leinsengen, who is very charming, very clever, but not sufficiently aware how our society must be constituted, as indeed no foreigners possibly can or ever will be, and not at all capable of guiding intricate points connected with it: and then, you know, she is diplomate by nature and art; she will of course endeavour to win you to an intimacy. At least, c'est son metiér. But again, I say, beware of this, or you will compromise Lord Glenmore as well as yourself. Against Lady Tenderden, too, though there is nobody I like better, you must also be upon your guard; for she is not altogether to be trusted, and she will betray your secrets from habit."
Lady Glenmore, who had, hitherto, listened to this long harangue in silence, and without showing any emotion, now looked a little surprised at this last caution given by Lady Tilney, for she remembered the opinion her husband had pronounced on Lady Tenderden; but still she said nothing. The expression, however, which played in her countenance, was not unobserved by Lady Tilney, as she added, "Oh, I know what you are thinking; Lady Tenderden is a great favourite with Lord Glenmore; but it's an old friendship, and now he is married, of course all that will be on another footing."
Lady Glenmore blushed, and felt the tears rising to her eyes, at the renewal of an insinuation respecting her husband, which had once before cost her much acute pain. Lady Tilney did not choose to observe the effect which she saw her words had produced on the innocent Lady Glenmore, and proceeded to object, in rotation, to every one whom she thought might become powerful rivals in her influence over her. Then, having proceeded to discuss every point political and influential in society, and having persuaded Lady Glenmore to fix an early day for a cercle choisie at her house, and canvassed the pretensions of the persons who were to be allowed to form it, she at length took her departure, leaving Lady Glenmore perfectly overcome with the torrent of eloquence and advice which she had so gratuitously given.
While these empty insincerities, these crooked policies of polite life, had been passing under Lady Glenmore's roof, and while Lord Albert D'Esterre was busied in the graver but perhaps not less intricate and deceptive details of public affairs, the realities of whose endless mazes he had that morning for the first time entered upon, Lady Dunmelraise, in a far different scene, and on a far other occasion, was preparing for one of the most painful tasks that duty demands of true affection; that of probing the breast of a beloved object, with the moral certainty of its being right so to do, in the hope of protecting it from yet more cruel wounds. These are the heroisms of private life, which pass unknown and unhonoured by the world, although they are noted elsewhere, and are of frequent occurrence in the annals of daily existence; and it was under the pressure of this painful determination that Lady Dunmelraise passed a sleepless night, endeavouring to prepare herself for to-morrow's duty.
When she met her daughter at breakfast, her pale and altered countenance half spoke the nature of her intended counsel before she gave it utterance. Lady Adeline's own feelings were too much in accordance with her mother's, for her not to read the cause of the expression she saw painted on her face; and although she had forced herself to leave her apartment, and to appear at the usual hour, and even endeavoured to wear her own placid smile, in order not to give Lady Dunmelraise unnecessary anxiety, still the very endeavour betrayed the real state of her heart. The business of the breakfast passed mechanically and in silence, with the exception of an interchange of those few kindly monosyllables which convinced them mutually of the participation each took in the other's anguish; and while Lady Adeline was trying to suppress starting tears, Lady Dunmelraise determined to break this cruel silence, and without preamble to come at once to the subject.
"My dearest Adeline, I need not tell you, love, that I feel with you the sorrow and mortification of the occurrence of yesterday evening; and it has come with double force on me, seeing the anguish it has brought upon you. However much I may have been prepared for it by what I have observed in Lord Albert's altered manner, yet I confess I am surprised at the want of openness in his conduct, a want with which I never should have thought he could have been charged. Love, it is true, is easily directed into a new channel, unless religious principle confirm it in its original course; but even where there is no sin, according to the world's acceptation of sin in such change, still, from the opinion I have hitherto entertained of his natural disposition, I thought he would, with that ingenuousness of character for which I have given him unbounded credit, have at least confessed the truth openly; a line of conduct which, had he adopted, I am confident that, however heavily the avowal might have fallen on your heart, there would yet have remained a consolation in thinking that he was still worthy of your esteem, and then an honest pride of the consciousness of self-desert would have come in aid to sustain you to bear up against desertion. I begin, however, to fear that esteem can have no part in our sentiment towards him; for why should concealment be necessary, if, at least, the cause of his estrangement from us were worthy of himself?" Lady Adeline covered her face with her hands, as she rested her arms on the table before her, and her tears trickled through her delicate fingers, but she could not speak. "Calm yourself, my dearest Adeline; for my sake, for your own sake, for resignation's sake, bear up under this heavy affliction: it is a sore and early trial for you, I well know; but if rightly entertained, it will bring its blessing with it, as all our trials do. I do not mean to pretend that you are not to suffer, or give a cold unfeeling philosophy to still the throbbings of a young wounded heart; but I would lead you to sources of consolation, which, although they may seem harsh and bitter at first, will in time, and with God's blessing, have a beneficial effect."
"I know," replied Lady Adeline, making an effort to speak, "I know, dearest mamma, that all you say is meant in love, and is balm to me, but these tears, these sobs, must have their course."
Lady Dunmelraise replied to this natural appeal with answering tears; and having first regained composure, she went on to say:
"Think for a moment, my best child, how hopeless, how truly wretched, would have been your situation, had you, when united to Lord Albert, discovered, when it was too late, that his affections were not entirely yours; and that he had, on his part, either from motives of false delicacy, or, from what was still worse, a desire to possess your fortune, persisted in fulfilling an engagement in which his heart at best had a divided interest;—think, dearest, what would have been your feelings in such a case, and how mercifully you are dealt by in the present suffering, in comparison of the irremediable sorrow which would then have been your portion!
"I need not now recall to your mind what I said on Lord Albert's apparently altered state of feelings on our arrival in town. You, I am certain, saw the change as well as myself, and felt it,—how deeply, I hardly can bear to think; though we both seemed tacitly to agree, that it would be better to await the result, than precipitate it by any premature remarks, either to himself, or between each other. And indeed this conduct, in a great measure, it is still my opinion should be preserved; only, in as far as regards ourselves, my dearest child, neither my sense of duty, nor my sense of sorrow, will permit of longer silence on a subject which, I grieve to confess, judging by appearances, is already settled; and it is with a view to prepare you for such an issue, rather than to direct you to show any alteration in your conduct towards Lord Albert, that I have thus spoken: when I say show no alteration, it is impossible that that advice could be literally followed, after having seen a person avowedly under the most sacred engagement to yourself pass the entire evening in the society of another, whose general character will not authorize the supposition that such attentions were without an especial object, and that too on a day on which he had pleaded important business as his excuse for your not seeing him; but what I mean by your showing no alteration of manner towards him is, that neither our opinions nor our decisions should be made known to him in this stage of the business."
Lady Adeline had now mastered herself sufficiently to listen with calmness to all her mother said; and she had drawn a seat near her, and held Lady Dunmelraise's hand tenderly in hers, replying by a gentle pressure to the sentiments she uttered: and now, when she could again give her thoughts utterance, she said:
"Speak on, dearest mamma, for even my rebel heart is soothed by listening to your gentle voice."
Lady Dunmelraise continued, "There are many reasons, you see, love, for this line of conduct:—
"In the first place, we have only, my sweet child, our own observations and surmises to guide us; and although these, I grant, are strong," (Lady Adeline sighed heavily in answer to this remark) "yet to act upon them would look like forcing Lord Albert to an immediate decision, a step unwise, and unworthy of us, and whichever way it ended would leave a doubt whether the decision were entirely from his heart or not. Besides, as yet he may have erred, and perhaps become penitent; if so, his own spontaneous confession alone could be a surety for his sincerity. Then too, my love, I must also remind you, that by nothing do a young woman's prospects suffer so much, on her first entry into life, as by becoming the object of the world's observation and idle talk, especially on the subject of a disappointment in love or marriage. All that the generality of the world know at present, concerning the existing engagement between yourself and Lord Albert, is, that your dear father and his parents having considered that you were by birth, fortune, and apparently by disposition when children, united to each other; should you grow up, mutually entertaining the same affection which you then evinced, that in such a case your union would be a matter of congratulation to the families of both parties. In short, it was one of those alliances that are often talked of amongst children seemingly adapted to each other, but to be finally dissolved or fulfilled, as circumstances should hereafter decide.
"How far your own affections have become bound up in this engagement, or how far Lord Albert has proved himself worthy or not of the intended union, is hitherto a matter wholly unknown, and uncared for, by the world at large: but now, however, that you are in the scene of London, young, new, and with various extraneous advantages to excite envy, if the affair were made a topic of discussion, the ill-natured part of the community will be too glad to seize upon any esclandre that might answer them for a nine days' novelty; and such a hazard, your own delicacy will point out to you, is therefore carefully to be avoided. Till lately, the happy termination of our wishes had seemed probable, and you, dearest child, have, I fear, given way to the belief that it was impossible it should fail: but, however painful it may be to us both, in the several relations in which we stand implicated in this business, it is, you will allow, some satisfaction to think, that the sacredness of these feelings will not necessarily be broken in upon by a vulgar prying public; and that, in short, the world need know no more of the matter than what I have already stated.
"We have only, therefore, as I before remarked, to await the period when decision must of course be made; that will be when we are in the country, and when we shall escape all the unpleasant remarks which would take place were we actually on the scene. Let me hope also, dearest Adeline, that your eyes being self-opened to the disappointment, you will know where to seek for succour against yourself, and which alone can enable you to bear the blow, come when it may."
"Indeed, dearest mamma," said Lady Adeline, with that under tone of voice that seems to fear its own sound, "whatever pain I endure, I perfectly agree with you in all you have said, and implicitly yield to your counsel; not only because it is my duty and interest to do so, but because I see the matter exactly in the same light. Oh, I could have borne all, had Albert only been more open and honest with me: but why was he so cruel as to deceive me? why was he so tenderly affectionate to me at Dunmelraise, after his return from abroad? why did he write to me so kindly? why has he, since we have been in London even, made such constant allusions to past and future happiness? Why all this, and then so suddenly and cruelly neglect me for another? for I am sure he does love another; mamma, do you not think he does?"
"Alas! what comfort can I give you? You have seen with your own eyes, and I must refer you, love, to your own feelings; who can so well tell all things as they?"
"But, dearest mamma, do you not think, that if he really did love another he would have told me so?"
"Why, dearest, it is difficult to reply to that question. Albert's good feelings and principles could not be overthrown at once. It is never thus. In a vicious career, people become unprincipled and hardened by degrees. He may have found his heart estranged from you, and yet in the first instance have been ashamed to own it, even to himself. The first step to evil is the deceitfulness of sin: with how many subterfuges does it not conceal its true nature: it blinds the eyes, lest, looking upon its native deformity, it should terrify its victim. There is nothing so likely to have this fatal tendency, as the constant society and intercourse with persons whose conduct, if not licentious (though I fear too many of them deserve that epithet), is yet not guided by any fixed or determined principle of action; whose lives at best are spent from day to day without any serious thought, and without regard to any thing but selfish indulgence. Albert has great influence, and there may be more reasons than one why the party with whom he seems at present to associate should wish to entangle him. I augured ill of his happiness from the moment I heard of the circle in which he lived; and it came to me with as much surprise as sorrow, for I never could have thought to find one of his dispositions and habits (setting aside principle) making such a choice of society. This it is which leads me to suppose that some stronger power of evil than a mere love of idle pleasure has lured him into the danger. But let this be your greatest comfort, that you are not his wife, and are not to be thrown among persons of such a stamp as his present associates; for whatever worldly advantages they may possess, I should tremble for you, my dear child, were you cast into a situation of such imminent peril to reason and to virtue. A woman, to a certain extent, must mingle with the associates of her husband; and such as these are, so in time must become, likewise, her own character: for however incongruous they may be to her tastes and feelings at first, yet if she is young, inexperienced, and pliant, the brilliancy and polish of their exterior, and their whole attractions, must dazzle and mislead her better judgment; and from the idea alone of pleasing her husband, in as far as virtue and religion do not seem to forbid it, she will conform herself to the habits and manners of those around her, not being aware how these re-act again upon the general tone of her own character."
"But perhaps," said Lady Adeline timidly, and while a feverish flush of hope and tenderness deepened in her cheek, "perhaps, were I his wife, I might reclaim——."
"Ah, dearest child," interrupted Lady Dunmelraise, "never hazard evil that good may come of it; never rely upon such a precarious contingency, nor upon your own strength; seek not temptation,—that is presumptuous. Were you indeed his wife—as there is every reason at present to be thankful you are not—then would have come the duty of that trial; but now another is appointed you, my love. Let us take what is, and think only of that. We must not wilfully rush into danger, to indulge selfish gratification."
Lady Adeline threw herself into her mother's arms, and wept unrestrainedly. "My dearest child, it has been a painful task to me to give you pain. Soothe this anguish, I beseech you, and assist me in the performance of what I feel is my duty, by regaining as much command over yourself as you possibly can."
While Lady Dunmelraise was yet speaking, a servant brought in a note addressed to Lady Dunmelraise: it was from Lord Albert. She opened, and having read it, gave it to Lady Adeline, who had known by its very twist who it came from, and was in breathless anxiety to see its contents.
"It is worded kindly," said Lady Dunmelraise, "but he could not do otherwise; and at the same time, I dare say, he felt much awkwardness, and did not know how to come in person. I shall answer it, my love, in the same spirit of gentleness; merely saying you are quite recovered, only suffering the remains of languor after the sickness produced by the heat of the Opera last night. And if Lord Albert should call in the course of the day, do, I entreat you, betray no unusual symptoms of agitation."
Lady Adeline, with an aching head and still sobbing breath, promised acquiescence; and in despite of herself, a ray of hope seemed to emanate from the note, which cheered her, she scarce knew why, and enabled her to suppress her emotion. Then retiring to her own chamber, she there sought in prayer that strength and resignation which she knew no earthly comforter could bestow on her.
After the exhaustion of spirits which this conversation with her daughter had produced, Lady Dunmelraise felt the promised visit of her sister would be a cordial to her; nor did she wait long ere Lady Delamere came. As soon as the latter was made acquainted with what had passed, she said, "Dear Adeline! I expected this from her; yet her behaviour is super-eminently amiable on this occasion, and must reward you for all your sorrows. I perfectly agree with you on the policy of the line of conduct you are to adopt with Lord Albert; and in pursuance of this, should you not call upon the Tresyllians? You know they are arrived."
"Certainly I will; for although my health has for many years precluded my mixing with the world, and exonerated me from all visiting, I shall forego my general rule, and call on them without delay."
"Come with me now," said Lady Delamere; "my carriage is at the door, and I will bring you home again." To this proposal the sisters agreed, and they departed together. The Tresyllians were not at home, and Lady Dunmelraise felt glad to escape the meeting. On her return, she learnt from Adeline, whom she found admirably serene and composed, though pale, and with her eyes swollen with weeping, that Lord Albert had not been there. The fact was, that the latter had been in reality occupied the whole day; and it was only on his return to his house, late in the afternoon, that he received Lady Dunmelraise's answer to his note, his mind having been as it were forcibly taken off from the subject nearest to his heart. He had profited by that wholesome constraint which the occupations of men afford them, and prevents that musing of the tenderer feelings which enervates and unfits for useful exertion. Something like reason, and the distinct perception of things which it never fails to bring in its train, had consequently resumed a sway over him; and, when this was the case, his heart could not avoid turning to the object of its first pure and honourable affection with that ineffable sweetness of sensation that attends on innocent and happy love. Then, half forgetting, half scorning, the suspicions he had entertained, and which the scene of the preceding evening had but too plausibly confirmed, he determined to call in South Audley-street to see Lady Dunmelraise at least, if not Adeline; and as he walked along, absorbed in mingled feelings that made him insensible to all the noise and bustle of the busy crowd he passed through, he found himself quickly at the door: his hand was on the knocker, when a cabriolet drove up, and out of it stepped Mr. Foley.
All Lord Albert's philosophy was overthrown by this incident; all his love for and trust in Lady Adeline was destroyed; and his first impulse was to leave a house in which he conceived he had no longer any interest in seeking its inhabitants. But, the next moment, his better judgment, if not his pride in not seeming to yield to a successful rival, determined him to fulfil his first intention; and making rather a cold and haughty return to Mr. Foley's salutation, they both entered the door together.