With this just apprehension of the fact, therefore, he turned the conversation upon the subject of scandal, which he deprecated bitterly; and, as if instancing the effects of it in regard to a person intimately known to himself, gave a totally different, but very plausible, interpretation of the exact story, which Lady Glenmore had heard detailed half an hour before by Comtesse Leinsengen.
Lady Glenmore had listened to this artful language with considerable interest and surprise. From the generosity of her nature, she felt much pleasure in thinking that the evil she had heard, and which made her uneasy even to be in Mr. Leslie Winyard's society, was totally without foundation. Her manner, therefore, gradually relaxed in rigour towards him; she seemed to have suddenly recovered her spirits, and her conversation flowed naturally without any constraint.
The moment the party returned from their walk she flew up to Lady Tenderden, and referring to the previous conversation of Comtesse Leinsengen, repeated that which she had just heard from Mr. Leslie Winyard, and which she conceived to be his interpretation of his own story; commenting, as she related it, on the injurious effects of speaking evil of any person without a thorough knowledge of the fact. Lady Tenderden foresaw, that were all this carried back to Lord Glenmore, many impediments would arise in fitting Lady Glenmore for their exclusive circle, and bringing her down to a moral level with themselves; she therefore said, after a minute's pause, "I make no doubt the Comtesse Leinsengen has been exceedingly misinformed; but at the same time the less that is said of these matters is always best, on every account; and as Mr. Leslie Winyard is my very particular friend, I shall esteem it a favour, my dear Lady Glenmore, that you do not mention this idle story to Lord Glenmore, who might conceive some prejudice against him, which would make me very unhappy. It is, in fact, of no consequence whatever; but when things of that nature pass through various mouths, they accumulate a consequence in their passage which they have not in themselves; and therefore promise me, dear Lady Glenmore, that you will not mention this matter to any one; besides," she added, looking very mysterious, "you know Lord Glenmore's great interests may be much affected by the Leinsengens; and the knowledge of her having retailed that sort of story, and retailed it under a mistaken point of view, might produce some coolness between them; for you know Lord Glenmore is vastly fond of Mr. Leslie Winyard."
Lady Glenmore did not know this, and hardly comprehended any part of the speech; in truth, how should she? But she remembered her husband's having recommended her to take Lady Tenderden's advice, and therefore she determined so to do in the present instance.
Shortly after this conversation, it was put to the vote whether the party should return to town by land or by water; and with the exception of Princess Leinsengen and Lord Baskerville, who preferred a close carriage for fear of damp, the rest agreed to go as they had come. It was soon quite night; but a brilliant moon made the water look very beautiful; and the soft language of Mr. Winyard, as he sat by the side of Lady Glenmore in the boat, fashioned in its phrase to the taste of his hearer, appeared to her in unison with the scene, and she thought him the only one of the party who was at all amusing, or had given a colouring of any interest to the hours she had passed with them.
Arrived at Whitehall, Lady Tenderden proposed their adjourning to her house, where supper was prepared; but Lady Glenmore, uneasy at a longer absence from home and her husband's society, determined for once to be firm in her refusal; and stepping into her carriage, which awaited her, drove at once home. On her arrival there, however, she was doomed to sustain an unexpected disappointment, as she found a note from Lord Glenmore, dated from the House; in which he told her not to be uneasy if he were late, for that the business of the morning was likely to be followed by a protracted debate on an important question. Lady Glenmore sighed over this note as she perused it; and, tired with the day's excursion, yet not sufficiently composed for rest, she experienced that listlessness of mind, which admits not of any active exertion, and yet affords no satisfactory contemplation whereon to dwell.
Lord Glenmore's attention happened to be at this moment directed to a high post under government, which it was more than probable he would attain. But could he have dreamt that in this pursuit he was neglecting the duties of private life, and casting forth an inexperienced young person, unprotected, amid all the dangers of a pleasure-loving world, he would have left all else to guide her through the perils to which he now so frequently left her exposed. How often does it happen, in various instances, that in the blindness of human wishes, we hurry to the goal of our desires—even those which we deem innocent and praiseworthy; but which, when suffered to lead us on, without a reference to a higher power, never fail to mislead, and prove fallacious when obtained. Yes, this is that self-pride of reason, which, confiding too much in its own merits, and not acting under the reliance of a superintending Providence, even when on the point of realizing its fondest hopes, finds it has grasped at a shadow; and to an ideal good, sacrificed a permanent happiness.
Had Lord Glenmore paused to reflect, and had recourse to that unerring light, which never dazzles to betray—his steps would have been guided by unfailing wisdom, and he would have found his chief happiness in his chief duty; whereas he pursued the phantom ambition; he did not consider that the necessary consequence which must follow an official occupation, was his leaving his young wife without a natural protector, amid scenes that were any thing but safe; and he was desirous that she, too, should play her part, and by those graces and influences which have such sway over the destinies of men and of empires, take an interest and acquire a power in that vaulting game of ambition in which he himself delighted to engage. He considered not how often he must leave her through the day, and the greater part of the night, to run this hazardous career, at an age when caution sleeps and passions are awake, and in the midst of a set which, though certainly not wholly devoid of some unblemished characters, was yet, generally speaking, in its whole tendency perilous to the pure and domestic virtues—a woman's only true glory.
Yet on this precipice was Lady Glenmore placed, without one real friend to whom she could look for genuine advice or succour. Her mother's (Lady Melcomb) absence from town prevented that natural tie, and had she been there it would have proved the business of the exclusives to have prevented that free and happy intercourse, both on the principle of not allowing any aged person to mar the brilliancy of their set, as well as that of excluding all those who might see through the drift of the society. On Lady Melcomb's part it was too early in the day to have any suspicion of the work of mischief which was carrying on to separate her from her daughter, and thus was Lady Glenmore like a lovely lamb amidst ravening wolves.
Scarcely had she been received amongst them, when Mr. Leslie Winyard, being at the moment desœuvré, conceived that she was just put in his way as a fit play-thing for the hour, and without the least scruple he determined she should swell the list of his conquests, already as numerous as those of Don Giovanni in all lands. He took no pains to conceal this design from any one save herself, and his intentions served many of the set as a topic of conversation, a fit subject for betting on: "how would Glenmore take the thing; would he be a wise man or a fool—put on the cap which fitted him with a good grace, or make grimaces at it?" Such is the license with which the most serious delinquencies were talked over, and though when set down on paper they may seem exaggerated, yet certainly the fact is not in the least so; only people start at things and actions when called by their right names, which under the title of venial errors, youthful indiscretions, and the sanction of custom and habit, are certainly tolerated, if not commended; tacitly approved, if not openly avowed. Ought not such a desperate system to be analyzed? Ought not language to pourtray in its strongest terms those deeds and those manners which, under the semblance of polite terms, and fictitious representation, and deceptive elegancies, pass current as being harmless or indifferent.