CHAPTER XII.
Thou yet shalt know how sweet, how dear,
To gaze on beauty's glistening eye,
To ask and pause in hope and fear,
Till she reply.
Montgomery.
Immediately after the departure of Lady Eltondale and Selina from Cheltenham, Sedley had also quitted it, as he could not bear to remain in a place, which had been to him the scene of his fondest hopes—his bitterest disappointment. In fact his having met Miss Seymour there was by no means the effect of accident. When she and the Viscountess had left London in June, he had found such a loss in her society, especially in those particular hours, which he had of late been accustomed to pass in his daily visits to Portman Square, that life appeared a blank, and his regrets for her absence first taught him the extent of his regard. Not however that his mind, tainted as it was by so many of the fashionable follies, if not vices of the day, was capable of truly comprehending all the chaste and simple beauties of hers. His admiration was confined to her personal charms; and though, had she been fated to move in a humbler sphere, he would perhaps have sought her as a substitute for the pretty little opera dancer, that was now under his protection, as it is elegantly termed; yet with all Selina's loveliness, his aversion to matrimony would scarcely have been subdued by any less powerful motives than those suggested by her riches. For, like all spendthrifts, Sedley was avaricious; and these united interests, confirmed by habits of association, and increased by vanity, led him by degrees to feel for her an attachment, of which at first he could scarcely have supposed his heart to have been susceptible. Having once convinced himself, that the possession of Miss Seymour's hand and fortune would contribute to his own individual happiness, (for of hers he did not stop to think,) his next object was to determine how to procure it; nor did he consider her being the destined wife of his friend as any impediment to the accomplishment of his own wishes. He, however, was well aware, that it was of the utmost consequence to him to obtain the countenance and support of the Viscountess; and as he possessed sufficient penetration to discover the master passion of her soul, he took his measures accordingly. Soon after she went to Cheltenham he wrote her a letter, in which he so far betrayed the confidence Frederick Elton had reposed in him, as to communicate to her all he knew of his attachment to the fair Adelina at the villa Marinella; and concluded by proposing, in the most guarded and delicate terms to her Ladyship, that she should befriend him instead of Elton—offering, if she would procure for him Selina's hand, either on the day of their marriage to give her a large sum of money, or to settle an annuity on her for the remainder of her life.
The information thus conveyed to Lady Eltondale of Mr. Elton's attachment to a foreigner did not very much surprise her. She suspected that the reluctance he had expressed about two years before, to accept an honourable and lucrative employment in the diplomatical line, which his father had procured for him, and which had obliged him to leave Catania to reside in Paris—his subsequent return thither, and his protracted stay on the continent, had all proceeded from some such motive.
But on the other hand Mr. Elton had, in his letter to his father, stated explicitly, "that he was not only willing, but anxious, to make every endeavour to gain Miss Seymour's affections, and bestow his own on her; convinced, on mature deliberation, that such an attachment would effectually conduce to his happiness, by filling that void in his heart, which so much militated against it." And as he was expected to return very shortly to England, she hesitated to accept Mr. Sedley's offer, although it was a temptation she could scarcely resist. The result, therefore, of her deliberations was, that she would remain neuter; and whichever of the candidates Selina's unbiassed judgment made choice of, she would endeavour to persuade owed their happiness to her influence. She therefore wrote an equivocal answer to Mr. Sedley, which he construed of course in the sense most favourable to his wishes, and hastened to Cheltenham, where he used all his rhetoric to secure her friendship; and she, with many a subtle argument, endeavoured to persuade him not to propose for Selina till after Frederick's arrival; and as he was by no means confident of the place he held in Miss Seymour's estimation, he probably would have postponed his declaration till time had more matured the regard he flattered himself she felt for him, had he not been irresistibly impelled by circumstances, as has been before related. Her refusal, however, did not entirely extinguish his hopes, although it changed his plans; and as the public prints had, about a fortnight before Lord Eltondale's death, given notice of Mr. Elton's departure from Paris, on his return to England, Sedley determined to repair to London immediately, for the purpose of meeting him, as he knew business would require his presence there. Nor was he disappointed; in about three weeks Lord Eltondale arrived; and Sedley sedulously sought to renew their intimacy, as much then from interested motives, as he had once done from inclination and preference. But though these two young men associated as much as they had been accustomed previous to Lord Eltondale's residence abroad, little remained of their original friendship, except its familiarity of intercourse, which a habit of intimacy will long preserve. Yet Frederick was scarcely conscious of this aberration of regard, which was, on the part of Sedley, produced by a rivalship Lord Eltondale was unsuspicious of; and on his own was principally owing to the gradual change, that had taken place in their characters. Sedley, by the influence of dissipated companions, had converted his natural vivacity of spirits into levity of principle. Lord Eltondale, by the peculiar circumstances which had led him to self-communion, study, and reflection, had turned the energies of his nature to pursuits worthy of the powers of his mind, and of the rank he was by nature and fortune destined to hold amongst the sons, which England proudly boasts as truly noble.
Lord Eltondale had written to the Viscountess, that it was his intention to pay his compliments to her and Miss Seymour immediately on his arrival in England; but he, from one day to another, sought excuses for delaying this visit to Deane Hall; and Sedley was not unwilling to assist in the search, for he still hoped to gain by delay. When he had first met Frederick, he had inquired, with as much indifference as he could assume, whether there was any foundation in the newspaper report of his marriage with Miss Seymour; to which his Lordship replied, in a peremptory tone, "Yes, if she will have me;" and immediately changed the conversation in such a manner, that Sedley had not again the courage to renew it. However, at last his Lordship fixed the day for the commencement of his journey to Yorkshire, and the evening before he as usual spent in his friend's society. They were conversing of far different matters, when Sedley abruptly said, in a tone of marked pique, "Well, Eltondale, so you have at last determined to do Miss Seymour the honour of proposing for her. Upon my soul, a great condescension! Notwithstanding your damned lecturing letters, I knew you would forget your 'charming Sicilian maid, fairer than Proserpine,' and all that pack of metaphysical stuff you used to write to me. I knew well enough from the first it was only an ideal Laura you fancied yourself Petrarch to; and if, while you were dreaming of her, you had lost the incomparable heiress your designing step-mother intended for you, it would only have been what you deserved." "For Heaven's sake, Sedley, what do you mean?" said Lord Eltondale, colouring deeply. "Is the incomparable heiress the Laura of your dreams?" "No, no, my Lord," answered Sedley, with a composure produced alike by envy and mortification, "I leave it to you to play the part of sleeper awakened—I never lost my senses for any Adelina." "Sedley!" replied Lord Eltondale, with the serious energy of deep feeling, "if any spark of our former friendship remains in your bosom, I conjure you never to mention that name again. I can never forget her, but she refused me." "Refused you!" exclaimed Sedley, in a tone of unfeigned surprise; "well, no doubt your pride has cured your love; but upon my soul I almost pity you; for when a man is once fascinated by a pretty woman, it is devilish hard to get out of her toils." "So far from my pride being my cure, her refusal raised my love to a pitch that made my former attachment seem cold in comparison. You may smile, Sedley, but if you have a heart to be moved, it must be touched when I tell you of her noble conduct on that occasion. I believe I told you of my intention of proposing myself to her; but I never could summon fortitude to acquaint you with the result. I had perceived a marked change in her manner to me some time before I wrote you the last letter concerning her; but I attributed it entirely to her father's influence, as I had not come to a direct explanation, and therefore took an opportunity of demanding an interview for that purpose, when I knew him to be absent.
"When she entered the room where I was waiting in breathless expectation of her arrival, she was enveloped in the most icy coldness of manner, which, however, I was not dismayed by, but poured forth my love with all the ardour I felt. She changed colour many times, and was silent for a few moments; but when she did speak, rejected my addresses with such dignified politeness, and with so much calm self-possession, that, mortified to the very soul, I, without reply or remonstrance, walked out of the house. That I might hide my wounded feelings from every eye, I struck into a private path which led through a flower-garden Adelina's sitting-room opened into. I instinctively turned to look in, when I beheld her kneeling, evidently in the act of prayer, her eyes streaming with tears. To see her weep, and retain self-control or resentment, was impossible. I was at her side in an instant;—she started up, and endeavoured to fly, but I forcibly detained her; and as the expression of her countenance was not to be misunderstood as to the cause of her grief, I implored her not to destroy our happiness by harbouring any false impressions of me or my family; entreated her to tell me the impediments to our union, that if it were possible, by any exertion of mine, to do them away, they might cease to exist. She turned aside her head to hide the gushing tears, and in a faltering voice desired me to leave her.—'Leave me,' said she, 'only for a few moments, that I may recover composure to tell you all.'
"I respected her feelings sufficiently to remain in the garden till she made a sign to me to return.