"You know you did once love the Duchess of Beaufort," I replied.
"Never," said Meyler. "Worcester and I, you know, were at Christ Church together," he continued, "and, one day, when I was too young to have ever compassed an intrigue, in any higher line than what boys usually find in the streets of Oxford, he presented me to his mother, who, you know, is a very fine woman of her age: this you will the more readily admit, because there is certainly a very striking resemblance in your picture. No woman in fine clothes would have come amiss to me at that time; and I certainly felt a strong desire for the Duchess; but without entertaining the shadow of a hope, notwithstanding she always distinguished me with unusual attention, as you have heard from others as well as from myself; till, one night, when I was staying at Badminton in the absence of the Duke, I happened to say that the cold had affected my lips and made them sore. It was as late as twelve o'clock. Her Grace desired me to accompany her to her dressing-room, that she might give me some cold cream. When I entered, her night-clothes were hanging to air near the fire. We were alone. I hesitated. In another instant I might have ventured to take this midnight invitation as a hint; but, unluckily, my Lady Harrowby, who probably suspected something improper, entered the room like our evil genius."
Meyler has repeated this story to so many people besides myself, Napier and Sir Harry Mildmay, that it will be folly to affect a denial of it. Meyler's greatest enemy never accused him yet of uttering an untruth.
Meyler led me but an unhappy life during the first year of our living together. His jealousy was downright selfishness; for he would be jealous of my pianoforte, if that instrument amused me. He was in fact always jealous, unless I was counting the minutes of his absence. If I procured a private box to witness a play, tête-à-tête with my sister Fanny, he would send a note by his coachman to this effect:
"DEAREST HARRIETTE,—I send a carriage to convey you to the play, to prove my wish to put no restraint on your wishes; but if for my sake you would stay at home, I should feel both grateful and happy, and will return to you as soon as possible."
He often left me to pass a week with the Beauforts at Badminton, and this never failed to render me completely wretched.
"My God," said Meyler, one day, striking his head violently with his hand, "what am I to do? I would rather blow my brains out than be thus the slave of any woman. Mine is not the passion of a day, or a year. I shall never cease to love you; but I must enjoy a little liberty."
I was much struck with what Meyler said. "This sort of affection may be more lasting than Worcester's late unnatural rapture, which went off all at once," thought I to myself, "and Meyler is so rich, so very, very beautiful, and it would be so shocking to lose him altogether. I will therefore put up with him, in his own way, as long as I have reason to believe him constant to me. I ought to be grateful, since I know that half the women in London would fain tempt him to forget me."
The next day Meyler agreed to dine with me and set off after dinner to Badminton. He came, I know, in fear and trembling, for he expected me to fret, and shed tears as usual at the idea or his going to Badminton. So far from it, I played him all his favourite airs on the pianoforte, gave him an excellent dinner, and drank my proper allowance of champagne with spirit; hoped he might pass a pleasant week at Badminton, and, feeling full confidence in his affection, should make himself happy with my books and music till he returned.
"What is the matter?" I asked, suddenly observing that he could neither eat nor drink. He only sighed.