No man could he more disposed than Alfred felt himself at this instant to agree with Mr. Gresham, and to marry immediately—visions of beauty and happiness floated before his imagination; but a solicitor knocking at the door of his chambers recalled him to the sense of the sad necessity of finishing some law-papers instead of going into the country to see his fair mistress. His professional duty absolutely required his remaining in town the whole of this term—Lady Jane Granville’s business, in particular, depended upon him—he gave his mind to it. She little knew how difficult it was to him at this time to fix his attention, or how much temper it required in these circumstances to bear with her impatience. The week before her cause was expected to come to trial, her ladyship’s law-fever was at its height—Alfred avoided her presence, and did her business.
The day arrived—her cause came on—Alfred’s exertions proved successful—and hot from the courts he brought the first joyful news—a decree in her favour!
Lady Jane started up, clasped her hands, embraced Alfred, embraced Caroline, returned thanks to Heaven—again and again, in broken sentences, tried to express her gratitude. A flood of tears came to her relief. “Oh! Alfred, what pleasure your generous heart must feel!”
From this day—from this hour, Lady Jane’s health rapidly recovered; and, as Erasmus observed, her lawyer had at last proved her best physician.
When Caroline saw Lady Jane restored to her strength, and in excellent spirits, preparing to take possession of a handsome house in Spring-Gardens, she thought she might be spared to return to her own family. But Lady Jane would not part with her; she insisted upon keeping her the remainder of the winter, promising to carry her back to the Hills in a few weeks. It was plain that refusing this request would renew the ire of Lady Jane, and render irreconcilable the quarrel between her ladyship and the Percy family. Caroline felt extremely unwilling to offend one whom she had obliged, and one who really showed such anxiety for her happiness.
“I know, my dear Lady Jane,” said she, smiling, “that if I stay with you, you will form a hundred kind schemes for my establishment; but forgive me when I tell you, that it is upon the strength of my belief in the probability that they will none of them be accomplished, that I consent to accept your ladyship’s invitation.”
“Perverse! provoking and incomprehensible!—But since you consent to stay, my dear, I will not quarrel with your motives: I will let them rest as philosophically unintelligible as you please. Be satisfied, I will never more accuse you of perversity in refusing me formerly; nor will I convict you of inconsistency for obliging me now. The being convicted of inconsistency I know is what you people, who pique yourselves upon being rational, are so afraid of. Now we every-day people, who make no pretensions to be reasonable, have no character for consistency to support—you cannot conceive what delightful liberty we enjoy. In lieu of whole tomes of casuistry, the simple phrase, ‘I’ve changed my mind,’ does our business. Do let me hear if you could prevail upon yourself to say so.”
“I’ve changed my mind,” said Caroline, playfully.
“That’s candid—now I love as well as admire you.”
“To be entirely candid, then,” said Caroline, “I must, my dear Lady Jane, if you will give me leave, tell you more.”