CHAPTER XIX.
Mr Primrose on the following morning set off for London in a post-chaise, being unwilling to risk his neck a second time in a stage-coach; for he had taken it into his head that a stage-coach must be overturned at the bottom of a steep hill. He travelled alone; and we will for the present leave him alone; though it might be very entertaining to observe how pettishly he brooked the tediousness of that mode of travelling, and how teasing he was to the post-boys, sometimes urging them to drive fast, and then rebuking them for using their horses so cruelly. What the poor man could find to amuse himself with for the long journey, which occupied him nearly three days, we cannot tell. In the meantime, we find it necessary to return to that part of our narrative in which we related that the partial exhibition to which Penelope had been exposed at the Countess of Smatterton’s select little party, had produced an almost serious illness.
Nothing could exceed the kind attentions of the Countess. Every hour was she making enquiries, and all that could possibly be said or done by way of alleviation or consolation did her ladyship say and do for her heart-broken patient. It never for one single moment entered the mind of Lady Smatterton that Miss Primrose could feel the slightest repugnance in the world to the profession which had been chosen for her; nor could her ladyship think that any sorrow or deep feeling was on the mind of Penelope for the death of her uncle, or that there was any harassing anxiety on her spirits at the thought of her father’s probable arrival in England. The Countess of Smatterton might have been a woman of very great feeling; but, from difference of situation, she could not by any means sympathize with Penelope. There is an infinite difference between five hundred acquaintances and an only dear friend. The pleasures of Penelope were not of the same nature as those of the Countess of Smatterton, nor was there much similarity in their pains.
There were also other considerations by which it may be accounted for, that the sympathy of her ladyship was not exactly adapted to the feelings of Penelope. The Countess was a patron, Penelope a dependent. The Countess had but the mere vanity of rank, Penelope a natural and essential pride of spirit; and it not unfrequently happens, that persons in the higher walks of society regard the rest of the world as made to be subservient to their caprices and the instruments of their will. This last consideration, however, is not altogether the fault of the higher classes; much of it, perhaps most of it, is owing to the hungry venal sycophancy of their inferiors,—but there never will be an act of parliament passed against servility, and therefore we need not waste our time in declaiming against it, for nothing but an act of parliament can thoroughly cure it.
Penelope was not sufficiently ill to keep her apartment for any great length of time. The medical attendant thought it desirable that the patient should be amused as much as possible; the air also was recommended, and, if possible, a little change of scene. To all these suggestions prompt and immediate attention was paid. It was fortunate that the Earl of Smatterton had a residence in the immediate vicinity of London, and it was the intention of the family to spend the Christmas holidays there. It would therefore be very opportune to afford the young lady a change of air and scene: for from her childhood Penelope had never wandered beyond the two villages of Smatterton and Neverden. The proposal was made to her to accompany the family, and the proposal was made so kindly, she could not possibly refuse it, even had it not been agreeable.
There was something perplexing to the inartificial and unsophisticated mind of Penelope Primrose, in the wonderful difference between fashionable manners under different circumstances. She had not the slightest doubt that Lord Smatterton and her ladyship were people of high fashion, nor could she have the least hesitation in concluding that the Duchess of Steeple Bumstead was also a woman of high fashion; but she recollected how rudely the Duchess had stared at her, and she had also a general feeling that many more persons of fashion at the select party had appeared, both in their manner towards her, and their deportment towards each other, absolutely disagreeable, unfeeling, and insolent. There also occurred to her recollection, amidst other thoughts of a similar nature, the impertinent and conceited airs which Lord Spoonbill had exhibited when she had formerly met him by accident; and she compared, with some degree of astonishment, his present very agreeable with his past very disagreeable manners.
The day on which Lord Smatterton and his family removed to their suburban villa was the very day that saw Mr Primrose depart from Smatterton on his way to London. And if on this occasion we should, by way of being very sentimental and pathetic, say, “Little did they think, the one that the father was coming to town, and the other that the daughter was leaving it,”—we should be only saying what our readers might very readily conjecture to be the case without any assistance from us: but we should not be perhaps exceeding the limits of truth. For, in truth, it was a thought which actually did enter the mind of Mr Primrose just as he set out on his journey: feeling somewhat angry at the disappointment which he had experienced, he actually said to himself at the very moment that he entered the chaise: “Now I suppose, when I get to town, Lord Smatterton and his family will be gone out of town again.”
It was all very well for the medical attendant to talk about change of air and change of scene: men of science know very well that persons in a certain rank will do what they will, and so it is not amiss that they should be told how very suitable and right it is. Change of scene is pretty enough and wholesome enough for baby minds that want new playthings; but no local changes can reach the affliction and sorrow of heart which sits brooding within. Penelope found that his lordship’s suburban villa, though built in the present taste, furnished with the greatest magnificence, and situated in one of the most delightful of those ten thousand beauteous pieces of scenery which surround the metropolis, was still unable to disperse the gloom that hung upon her mind, and to reconcile her to that profession which the imperious kindness of the Countess of Smatterton had destined for her.
Lord Spoonbill took infinite pains to render the change of scene agreeable to the young lady. The weather was, for the time of year, cheerful and bright, and though cold, not intensely so: and in spite of the numerous hints which the Earl gave him of the impropriety of such excessive condescension, the heir of Smatterton would accompany the plebeian dependent in the chariot, and point out to her the various beauties of the surrounding scenery. A person who can see has a great advantage over one that is blind. Such advantage had Lord Spoonbill over Penelope Primrose. In her mind there did not exist the slightest or most distant apprehension whatever of the design which his lordship had in these attentions. Had there been such apprehension, or such suspicion, vain would have been all his lordship’s endeavours to render himself agreeable to the young lady. As it was, however, Penelope certainly began to entertain a much higher opinion of his lordship’s good qualities than she had before. He did not indeed talk like a philosopher, or utter oracles, but he manifested kind feelings and generous sentiments. On many subjects he talked fluently, though his talk was common-place; and he perhaps might adapt himself to the supposed limited information of his companion. The young lady was also pleased with the apparent indifference which in his conversation he manifested to the distinctions of rank. And as Penelope was pleased with the young nobleman’s attentions, and grateful for the considerate and almost unexpected kindness which she experienced from the Smatterton family, her manner became less constrained, and, even though unwell, she was cheerful, and the gracefulness of gratitude gave to her natural beauty a charm which heightened and embellished it. Thus, the beauty by which Lord Spoonbill’s attention had been first attracted, appeared to him infinitely more fascinating when connected with such mental and moral charms: so that, to use an expression which has no meaning, but which is generally understood, his lordship had fairly lost his heart.
The day after the family had departed from town, the letter which Mr Primrose had sent to his daughter was, with several others, put into the magnificent hands of the Right Honorable the Earl of Smatterton. His lordship did everything with a grace peculiar to himself; even the opening of letters was to him a matter of importance; and his friends have often smiled at the serious and self-satisfied air with which he was accustomed to take up the letters one by one, reading aloud the address before he broke the seal. There seemed to be something pleasant to his ear in the sound of the words, “The Right Honorable the Earl of Smatterton.” His lordship used generally to open his letters in the presence of his family; and as it frequently happened that, under cover to his lordship, there came letters addressed to members of his establishment, he used to make a great ceremony in reading aloud their address also. It was curious, we have been told, to hear the different intonation with which his lordship uttered the names of his domestics from that which he used when speaking of his own great self.
On the present occasion there was only Lord Spoonbill present when the letters were opened. And when his lordship had first pompously read aloud “The Right Honorable the Earl of Smatterton,” he afterwards, in a lower and quicker tone, read—“Miss Primrose.” His lordship then handed the letter to his son, saying, “Charles, this letter, I perceive, is addressed to Miss Primrose; cause it immediately to be delivered to the young woman. At the same time let me give you a caution. Condescension to our inferiors is very becoming, and is one of the brightest jewels in a nobleman’s coronet: but, Charles, while we condescend to our inferiors, we should always recollect, and let them also know, that they are our inferiors. We should always treat our inferiors with kindness, and we may behave to them, when we admit them to our table, with courteous politeness. But we must not, and ought not, by way of shewing our condescension, to let down and forget our dignity.”
Lord Spoonbill thought more of Miss Primrose’s pretty face than he did of his own dignity, and was therefore beginning to grow weary of this right honorable prosing, and to shew symptoms of fidgettiness. But when the Earl of Smatterton had once taken it into his head to administer the word of exhortation to any of his family, he was not easily diverted from his purpose by any expressions or indications of uneasiness on the part of the patient: therefore he proceeded.
“Now, Spoonbill, let me as a friend advise you. I waive my authority and speak to you purely and simply as a friend. Our title is a mere empty sound, unless the dignity of it is properly kept up. You are disposed to be very condescending, and at home it is all well enough; but what I disapprove of is your condescension in public. Yesterday you accompanied this young woman in the chariot, and it is impossible to say who may have seen you thus familiarly associating with a person of inferior rank. There are too many encroachments already upon the higher classes, and we ought not to invite and encourage more. I have done.”
Lord Spoonbill was glad to hear that. But the disobedient one, as if his only object in listening to a sermon had been that he might act directly contrary to its advice, forthwith, instead of causing the letter to be delivered, did himself, with his own right honorable hands, in person present the letter to Penelope.
“Who should write to me?” thought the dependent, as she received the letter with a smile of gratitude and gracefulness from the condescending son of the dignified Earl of Smatterton. Lord Spoonbill thought that Penelope had never before looked so graceful and so beautiful as at that moment. There are some countenances in which peculiar and transient emotions light up a most fascinating expression of loveliness. This peculiarity belonged to Penelope; and that look of loveliness rewarded Lord Spoonbill for his condescension, and made a much deeper impression on his heart than the discourse of the Earl had made on his understanding. So impressive was it that it almost enchained him to the spot, so as to prevent Penelope from immediately gratifying her curiosity by perusing the letter. His lordship, as if to find reason, or to make cause for prolonging his stay, said:
“If this letter requires an answer by return of post, my father will be happy to give you a frank; but the post closes at three, and it is now past twelve.”
“I thank you, my lord,” replied the young lady, looking at the letter and half opening it; “I do not know from whence it comes.”
In a few seconds the letter was opened, and the quick glancing eye of Penelope saw the name of Primrose, and the whole truth rushed into her mind with overpowering violence; and the intense feeling of delight at the thought of being saved from dependence and rescued from a dreaded profession, was too much for her weakened spirits to bear composedly, and exclaiming, with hysteric shriek, “My father, my father!” she would have sunk on the floor had not Lord Spoonbill caught her in his arms and placed her on a sofa. His lordship rang violently for assistance, which was promptly and successfully rendered; and as his presence was no farther necessary, he thought it best to inform the Countess of the situation of Miss Primrose, and of the event which had produced this sudden burst of feeling.
Now, generally speaking, the Countess of Smatterton was a lady of great humanity and considerateness; but when anything occurred to interfere with or interrupt a favourite scheme, her natural tenderness was much abated. It presently came into her mind that the arrival of Mr Primrose in England would prevent the purposed exhibition of Penelope’s musical talents, and this thought afflicted her and made her almost angry. Nevertheless, her ladyship immediately went to Miss Primrose and offered her congratulations on the happy event. These congratulations the young lady, in the simplicity of her heart, believed to be sincere, and she made her acknowledgments accordingly; but she was very much surprised at the manner in which the Countess received these acknowledgments.
Penelope, when left alone, read over her father’s letter with more composed and settled delight, and it was an unspeakable relief to her mind that now, from the language of this communication, she had reason to be satisfied that there was no danger that she should be urged into that dreaded publicity from which she had so timidly but so vainly shrunk. This letter produced a much more powerful and healing effect than any change of air or variation of scenery could accomplish. Now was she full of joy and full of hope, and almost forgot the tears she had shed for her uncle, and the sighs she had heaved for her lover.
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
LONDON:
PRINTED BY C. H. REYNELL, BROAD STREET, GOLDEN SQUARE.