Sir John Wetheral also suffered. He felt a conviction that his own want of firmness had fostered his lady's ambitious turn of mind; and he dwelt upon the melancholy idea that his own hand had bestowed, however unwillingly—that his consent had been extorted, however painful to himself—to give a beloved child to the imbecile Lord Ennismore. It was a thought he never could banish from his memory, and it pained him most when Julia's society became his greatest comfort. It was, however, vain to regret the past. Sir John's mild nature was unequal to contend with the persevering system adopted by his lady, and he could never comprehend efforts to forward her views upon the minds of her children. The Gertrude of his early affections was now severed from his companionship, and he turned to Julia, to receive from her hands the care and attention necessary to his future comfort.
Lady Ennismore fully requited her parent's hope. She sought no society beyond her own family, and the little circle of friends who had ever valued her affectionate heart. Mrs. Spottiswoode, the friend and beloved companion—that solace to earthly tribulations—that gift tendered to few—was near her. Hatton was a home of affection, and Brierly threw open its portals with triumph at her approach. All had respected and honoured the hapless wife, and all surrounded the released widow in silent gratulation. Mrs. Pynsent publicly declared "It was a deep trick of that woman Ennismore, whom she never could endure; and if the poor young Julia Wetheral had not fallen into the hands of two she-Philistines, she never would have married that sickly little chap, whom the mother led about by the nose. Some things which should be nameless were already come to pass, and she hoped Old Nick would fly away with all manœuvring mothers. A certain lady was shorn of her beams, who expected to command the world; and after brandishing her arms, and catching all the prime matches up, she was cut down into a mighty small space, with an evil conscience to chat with. If Lady Ennismore would be advised, she should counsel her to change her name and title, by marrying a comfortable Shropshire lad. There were plenty unprovided for."
But Lady Ennismore declined all thoughts of marriage, and devoted herself to the comforts of her parents. Colonel Neville wrote, at the expiration of her mourning, and he laid claim to her compassion, in consideration of the patience and constancy which had accompanied his involuntary and fervent attachment. He had condemned himself to a perpetual banishment, even from the country which she inhabited. But now that the bar was withdrawn, the hour of disclosure was arrived, and Julia must have respected the love which consumed him. She could bear witness that he had never breathed an unhallowed sentiment, or endeavoured to take advantage of her situation, during their long and constant association in Florence.
Julia sighed as she read the declaration of Neville, but her heart renounced a second engagement. "No," she wrote in reply to her lover's epistle—"no, my heart has suffered too much disquietude to enter upon fresh ties. I feel a calmness and consolation in watching over my father's comfort, and taking charge of my stricken mother, which my married life denied me. That portion of my existence was a period of deep misery, and it has broken down my hopes and my spirits. Be happy, Neville, with a woman who has not been called to suffering, and forget one who will never more trust in man, or in herself. I will not give hope, for you do not deserve to be treated lightly, and I cannot now meet your wishes. May I soon hear you have met with a woman deserving your esteem, and that your days are devoted to her happiness. My own days are consecrated to the father whose counsel I would not heed, and who has suffered so much through my obstinate folly."
And what shall be said of Christobelle? Her portion was not the cup of bitterness, though her patience was severely tested. Lady Wetheral became indifferent to all passing events so gradually, and her mind dwelt so little upon any thing unconnected with her own ease and immediate gratification, that Mrs. Daniel Higgins adventured to touch lightly upon the subject, during one of her visits.
"I am happy, my lady, to be hearing of Miss Chrystal's likelihood, at last, to marry Sir John Spottiswoode. Higgins thinks it a very pretty match, and he has visited Alverton more than once, and admires the place extremely. For ever and a day!—to think of Miss Chrystal's turn being come!"
"I know nothing about it, Thompson, and I don't care. The Worcestershire man shall never enter my room, though he is quite good enough for a young lady who refused a dukedom. If Julia would attract the old Duke of Forfar, now she is at liberty, I should still recover my health; but I am laid on the shelf. No one cares about my health. Lady Ennismore might easily win his Grace; only, I dare say, she would run away from him, as she did from Lord Ennismore."
Christobelle married Sir John Spottiswoode soon after Lady Wetheral's assurance to Mrs. Higgins that she "did not care" about the affair, and no one apprised her ladyship of the actual solemnization. She never asked who was the "Lady Spottiswoode" whom people talked so much about, and always addressed her by the title of Miss Wetheral.
Did Christobelle ever repent her refusal of a dukedom, or experience a repentant feeling that she had given her whole heart to the husband of her choice? No. Life brings too many cares to allow of perfect enjoyment upon earth, but Christobelle never regretted the vows she paid at the altar: she never regretted the hour when she became the bride of Spottiswoode, and exchanged Wetheral Castle for the tranquil groves of Alverton.
THE END.