Of one thing, however, she was resolved; to avoid, as much as possible, the offensive pity with which she imagined Hargrave regarded her; and this resolution was so well kept that she always, after that night, avoided him with studious shyness.
CHAPTER VIII.
What sadder sight can angels view,
Than self deceiving tears,
Pour'd idly over some dark page,
Of earlier life, though pride or rage,
The record of to-day engage,
A woe for future years.
Christian Year.
Colonel Hargrave rapidly domesticated himself in Sydney Place, and very soon placed himself on terms of intimacy with the Villars family. Still nothing occurred which seemed to bring Caroline nearer her object, and though for some weeks her temper remained unruffled in his presence, nothing betrayed any thing like admiration on his part; nothing could warm into affection the every-day friendship which had been established between them, or induce him to take advantage of his popularity, by choosing a mistress for Aston Manor.
Mrs. Villars was too ready to interpose her powers of contrivance, and took every opportunity of throwing them together; in public, she often succeeded, but in their private circle he was more than a match for all her address, for when the manners of the perfect gentleman failed to secure him from any well-laid scheme to entrap his admiration, he was ready to assume those of the bear.
One great difficulty consisted in dragging him to the balls and evening parties, which began to succeed each other in rapid succession; and sometimes when they had wholly reckoned on his company, he would be found in his morning coat, busily employed in writing letters, which no coaxing could induce him to leave. At these times Caroline would often plead a head-ache, and remain at home, but to very little purpose, as he seemed to believe the excuse, and, probably supposing quiet the best restorative, he would gather up his books, and retire to his own room.
A woman's heart, when regulated by no higher principle than that of its own native impulses, is often piqued into love by the very means which should have restrained it, and Caroline's had been left to the government of vanity and coquetry, habits which insensibly corrode the innate modesty of the female mind. Hargrave's failings, therefore, excited more affection than his virtues—for the necessity of watching his humours, and of courting rather than receiving his attentions, insensibly interested her, and though her feeling was composed of component parts of vanity, self-love, avarice, and, ambition, it could scarcely be affirmed that it did not contain a few grains of genuine affection. She had indeed merely expected some broken down nabob, who would have formed an easy conquest, and she was therefore agreeably surprised by Hargrave's manner and appearance, for his manly bearing and easy air, compensated for any injury an Indian sun might have given his complexion, and called forth the praise of all Caroline's fair friends. Thus, stimulated by opposition, she left no art untried to win him, and watched his movements with secret and constant jealousy; while her mother, with the foolish fondness, which had grown almost to fear of her beautiful daughter, encouraged her to hope, by repeating and magnifying, sometimes even inventing, speeches, which seemed to betray more than Hargrave openly professed.