On the last day we passed together we certainly shed a superabundance of tears. Poor Worcester was half blinded with his: and, seriously, a man going to be hanged could not well have appeared more discouraged or dismayed.
"I will write at least a quire of foolscap to you every day," said Worcester, "and may God bless my adored wife, and bless me only just as I am found ready to sacrifice my life for her happiness." In short, but for Lord William Somerset, who absolutely dragged him out of the house a few minutes before the Falmouth mail started, I almost believe he would have preferred love to glory and given old Wellington the slip.
I passed the night entirely without rest, in spite of all the efforts I made to recover my spirits. "He is gone. Nothing can bring him back. Well, should he not be killed, it is a good thing for a young man to see a little service. It wont do for me to lose all my life in fretting." And fifty more such wise remarks did I repeat to myself during the long night, and yet I could not forget poor Worcester's extreme kindness and attachment.
In two days more I was visited by Robinson, who used every argument in his power to convince me of the folly of ever expecting to live with Worcester again.
"Why not act with common sense?" said Robinson. "There is His Grace of Beaufort ready to provide for you in the most comfortable manner possible for your whole life, in short, as I told you before, you may make your own terms, conditionally that you never speak or write to his lordship again."
I begged Mr. Robinson not to lose his time in teasing me when I was out of spirits. "Pray acquaint the duke that Worcester refused to leave England until I had solemnly pledged myself to write to him constantly, and wait for him a year from the day of his departure, and then tell me if the duke commands me to break my written oath and ill-use his son?"
"If he does, will you do it?" Robinson asked; but, considering this an impertinent question I refused to answer it, and again the worthy man went away in very ill-humour, declaring that for his part he could not treat with me.
Fanny was my constant visitor after Worcester had left England, and did all in her power to amuse and enliven me. Worcester had promised to make the acquaintance of Colonel Parker in Spain, and send her word how he went on, whom he made love to, and in short, all the news about him he could possibly scrape together. Fanny was very grateful to his lordship for having himself suggested this plan to her. She was still living with Julia, and Julia was yet beloved and adored by Mr. Napier, who might have been her son in point of age and appearance.
My opera-box had been engaged for that season, and paid for, before Lord Worcester thought of being ordered off to the continent, and Fanny and Julia had each of them purchased a ticket from me; yet I did not like the idea of going there without his lordship. I knew I should feel dull, and that the duke and duchess, whose box was opposite mine, would make their observations on whatever I did, and might report mere nothings in a way to disturb poor Worcester's feelings.
"I will not go to-night," said I, in answer to Julia's pressing entreaties, and I kept my word.