by Walter Scott
CHAPTER IV.
THE PROPOSAL.
Oh! you would be a vestal maid, I warrant, The bride of Heaven--Come--we may shake your purpose; For here I bring in hand a jolly suitor Hath ta'en degrees in the seven sciences That ladies love best--He is young and noble, Handsome and valiant, gay, and rich, and liberal.
_The Nun._
The morning after a debauch is usually one of reflection, even to themost determined boon companion; and, in the retrospect of the precedingday, the young Laird of St. Ronan's saw nothing very consolatory, unlessthat the excess was not, in the present case, of his own seeking, buthad arisen out of the necessary duties of a landlord, or what wereconsidered as such by his companions.
But it was not so much his dizzy recollections of the late carouse whichhaunted him on awakening, as the inexplicability which seemed to shroudthe purposes and conduct of his new ally, the Earl of Etherington.
That young nobleman had seen Miss Mowbray, had declared his highsatisfaction, had warmly and voluntarily renewed the proposal which hehad made ere she was yet known to him--and yet, far from seeking anopportunity to be introduced to her, he had even left the partyabruptly, in order to avoid the necessary intercourse which must therehave taken place between them. His lordship's flirtation with LadyBinks had not escaped the attention of the sagacious Mowbray--herladyship also had been in a hurry to leave Shaws-Castle; and Mowbraypromised to himself to discover the nature of this connexion throughMrs. Gingham, her ladyship's attendant, or otherwise; vowing deeply atthe same time, that no peer in the realm should make an affectation ofaddressing Miss Mowbray a cloak for another and more secret intrigue.But his doubts on this subject were in great measure removed by thearrival of one of Lord Etherington's grooms with the following letter:--
"My Dear Mowbray,--You would naturally be surprised at my escape from the table yesterday before you returned to it, or your lovely sister had graced it with her presence. I must confess my folly; and I may do so the more boldly, for, as the footing on which I first opened this treaty was not a very romantic one, you will scarce suspect me of wishing to render it such. But I did in reality feel, during the whole of yesterday, a reluctance which I cannot express, to be presented to the lady on whose favour the happiness of my future life is to depend, upon such a public occasion, and in the presence of so promiscuous a company. I had my mask, indeed, to wear while in the promenade, but, of course, that was to be laid aside at table, and, consequently, I must have gone through the ceremony of introduction; a most interesting moment, which I was desirous to defer till a fitter season. I trust you will permit me to call upon you at Shaws-Castle this morning, in the hope--the anxious hope--of being allowed to pay my duty to Miss Mowbray, and apologize for not waiting upon her yesterday. I expect your answer with the utmost impatience, being always yours, &c. &c. &c.
"ETHERINGTON."
"This," said St. Ronan's to himself, as he folded the letterdeliberately, after having twice read it over, "seems all fair and aboveboard; I could not wish any thing more explicit; and, moreover, it putsinto black and white, as old Mick would say, what only rested before onour private conversation. An especial cure for the headache, such abillet as this in a morning."
So saying, he sat him down and wrote an answer, expressing the pleasurehe should have in seeing his lordship as soon as he thought proper. Hewatched even the departure of the groom, and beheld him gallop off, withthe speed of one who knows that his quick return was expected by animpatient master.
Mowbray remained for a few minutes by himself, and reflected withdelight upon the probable consequences of this match;--the advancementof his sister--and, above all, the various advantages which mustnecessarily accrue to himself, by so close an alliance with one whom hehad good reason to think deep _in the secret_, and capable of renderinghim the most material assistance in his speculations on the turf and inthe sporting world. He then sent a servant to let Miss Mowbray know thathe intended to breakfast with her.
"I suppose, John," said Clara, as her brother entered the apartment,"you are glad of a weaker cup this morning than those you were drinkinglast night--you were carousing till after the first cock."
"Yes," said Mowbray, "that sandbed, old MacTurk, upon whom wholehogsheads make no impression, did make a bad boy of me--but the day isover, and they will scarce catch me in such another scrape.--What didyou think of the masks?"
"Supported as well," said Clara, "as such folk support the disguise ofgentlemen and ladies during life; and that is, with a great deal ofbustle, and very little propriety."
"I saw only one good mask there, and that was a Spaniard," said herbrother.
"O, I saw him too," answered Clara; "but he wore his visor on. An oldIndian merchant, or some such thing, seemed to me a bettercharacter--the Spaniard did nothing but stalk about and twangle hisguitar, for the amusement of my Lady Binks, as I think."
"He is a very clever fellow, though, that same Spaniard," rejoinedMowbray--"Can you guess who he is?"
"No, indeed; nor shall I take the trouble of trying. To set to guessingabout it, were as bad as seeing the whole mummery over again."
"Well," replied her brother, "you will allow one thing at least--Bottomwas well acted--you cannot deny that."
"Yes," replied Clara, "that worthy really deserved to wear his ass'shead to the end of the chapter--but what of him?"
"Only conceive that he should be the very same person with that handsomeSpaniard," replied Mowbray.
"Then there is one fool fewer than I thought there was," replied Clara,with the greatest indifference.
Her brother bit his lip.
"Clara," he said, "I believe you are an excellent good girl, and cleverto boot, but pray do not set up for wit and oddity; there is nothing inlife so intolerable as pretending to think differently from otherpeople.--That gentleman was the Earl of Etherington."
This annunciation, though made in what was meant to be an imposing tone,had no impression on Clara.
"I hope he plays the peer better than the Fidalgo," she replied,carelessly.
"Yes," answered Mowbray, "he is one of the handsomest men of the time,and decidedly fashionable--you will like him much when you see him inprivate."
"It is of little consequence whether I do or no," answered Clara.
"You mistake the matter," said Mowbray, gravely; "it may be ofconsiderable consequence."
"Indeed!" said Clara, with a smile; "I must suppose myself, then, tooimportant a person not to make my approbation necessary to one of yourfirst-rates? He cannot pretend to pass muster at St. Ronan's withoutit?--Well, I will depute my authority to Lady Binks, and she shall passyour new recruits instead of me."
"This is all nonsense, Clara," said Mowbray. "Lord Etherington callshere this very morning, and wishes to be made known to you. I expect youwill receive him as a particular friend of mine."
"With all my heart--so you will engage, after this visit, to keep himdown with your other particular friends at the Well--you know it is abargain that you bring neither buck nor pointer into my parlour--the oneworries my cat, and the other my temper."
"You mistake me entirely, Clara--this is a very different visitor fromany I have ever introduced to you--I expect to see him often here, andI hope you and he will be better friends than you think of. I have morereasons for wishing this, than I have now time to tell you."
Clara remained silent for an instant, then looked at her brother with ananxious and scrutinizing glance, as if she wished to penetrate into hisinmost purpose.
"If I thought,"--she said, after a minute's consideration, and with analtered and disturbed tone; "but no--I will not think that Heavenintends me such a blow--least of all, that it should come from yourhands." She walked hastily to the window, and threw it open--then shutit again, and returned to her seat, saying, with a constrained smile,"May Heaven forgive you, brother, but you frightened me heartily."
"I did not mean to do so, Clara
," said Mowbray, who saw the necessity ofsoothing her; "I only alluded in joke to those chances that are neverout of other girls' heads, though you never seem to calculate on them."
"I wish you, my dear John," said Clara, struggling to regain entirecomposure, "I wish _you_ would profit by my example, and give up thescience of chance also--it will not avail you."
"How d'ye know that?--I'll show you the contrary, you silly wench,"answered Mowbray--"Here is a banker's bill, payable to your own order,for the cash you lent me, and something over--don't let old Mick havethe fingering, but let Bindloose manage it for you--he is the honesterman between two d----d knaves."
"Will not you, brother, send it to the man Bindloose yourself?"
"No,--no," replied Mowbray--"he might confuse it with some of mytransactions, and so you forfeit your stake."
"Well, I am glad you are able to pay me, for I want to buy Campbell'snew work."
"I wish you joy of your purchase--but don't scratch me for not caringabout it--I know as little of books as you of the long odds. And comenow, be serious, and tell me if you will be a good girl--lay aside yourwhims, and receive this English young nobleman like a lady as you are?"
"That were easy," said Clara--"but--but--Pray, ask no more of me thanjust to see him.--Say to him at once, I am a poor creature in body, inmind, in spirits, in temper, in understanding--above all, say that I canreceive him only once."
"I shall say no such thing," said Mowbray, bluntly; "it is good to beplain with you at once--I thought of putting off this discussion--butsince it must come, the sooner it is over the better.--You are tounderstand, Clara Mowbray, that Lord Etherington has a particular viewin this visit, and that his view has my full sanction and approbation."
"I thought so," said Clara, in the same altered tone of voice in whichshe had before spoken; "my mind foreboded this last of misfortunes!--But,Mowbray, you have no child before you--I neither will nor can see thisnobleman."
"How!" exclaimed Mowbray, fiercely; "do you dare return me so peremptoryan answer?--Think better of it, for, if we differ, you will find youwill have the worst of the game."
"Rely upon it," she continued, with more vehemence, "I will see him norno man upon the footing you mention--my resolution is taken, andthreats and entreaties will prove equally unavailing."
"Upon my word, madam," said Mowbray, "you have, for a modest and retiredyoung lady, plucked up a goodly spirit of your own!--But you shall findmine equals it. If you do not agree to see my friend Lord Etherington,ay, and to receive him with the politeness due to the consideration Ientertain for him, by Heaven! Clara, I will no longer regard you as myfather's daughter. Think what you are giving up--the affection andprotection of a brother--and for what?--merely for an idle point ofetiquette.--You cannot, I suppose, even in the workings of your romanticbrain, imagine that the days of Clarissa Harlowe and Harriet Byron arecome back again, when women were married by main force? and it ismonstrous vanity in you to suppose that Lord Etherington, since he hashonoured you with any thoughts at all, will not be satisfied with aproper and civil refusal--You are no such prize, methinks, that the daysof romance are to come back for you."
"I care not what days they are," said Clara--"I tell you I will not seeLord Etherington, or any one else, upon such preliminaries as you havestated--I cannot--I will not--and I ought not.--Had you meant me toreceive him, which can be a matter of no consequence whatever, youshould have left him on the footing of an ordinary visitor--as it is, Iwill not see him."
"You _shall_ see and hear him both," said Mowbray; "you shall find me asobstinate as you are--as willing to forget I am a brother, as you toforget that you have one."
"It is time, then," replied Clara, "that this house, once our father's,should no longer hold us both. I can provide for myself, and may Godbless you!"
"You take it coolly, madam," said her brother, walking through theapartment with much anxiety both of look and gesture.
"I do," she answered, "for it is what I have often foreseen--Yes,brother, I have often foreseen that you would make your sister thesubject of your plots and schemes, so soon as other stakes failed you.That hour is come, and I am, as you see, prepared to meet it."
"And where may you propose to retire to?" said Mowbray. "I think that I,your only relation and natural guardian, have a right to know that--myhonour and that of my family is concerned."
"Your honour!" she retorted, with a keen glance at him; "your interest,I suppose you mean, is somehow connected with the place of myabode.--But keep yourself patient--the den of the rock, the linn of thebrook, should be my choice, rather than a palace without my freedom."
"You are mistaken, however," said Mowbray, sternly, "if you hope toenjoy more freedom than I think you capable of making a good use of. Thelaw authorizes, and reason, and even affection, require, that you shouldbe put under restraint for your own safety, and that of your character.You roamed the woods a little too much in my father's time, if allstories be true."
"I did--I did indeed, Mowbray," said Clara, weeping; "God pity me, andforgive you for upbraiding me with my state of mind--I know I cannotsometimes trust my own judgment; but is it for you to remind me ofthis?"
Mowbray was at once softened and embarrassed.
"What folly is this?" he said; "you say the most cutting things tome--are ready to fly from my house--and when I am provoked to make anangry answer, you burst into tears!"
"Say you did not mean what you said, my dearest brother!" exclaimedClara; "O say you did not mean it!--Do not take my liberty from me--itis all I have left, and, God knows, it is a poor comfort in the sorrowsI undergo. I will put a fair face on every thing--will go down to theWell--will wear what you please, and say what you please--but O! leaveme the liberty of my solitude here--let me weep alone in the house of myfather--and do not force a broken-hearted sister to lay her death atyour door.--My span must be a brief one, but let not your hand shake thesand-glass!--Disturb me not--let me pass quietly--I do not ask this somuch for my sake as for your own. I would have you think of me,sometimes, Mowbray, after I am gone, and without the bitter reflectionswhich the recollection of harsh usage will assuredly bring with it. Pityme, were it but for your own sake.--I have deserved nothing butcompassion at your hand--There are but two of us on earth, why should wemake each other miserable?"
She accompanied these entreaties with a flood of tears, and the mostheart-bursting sobs. Mowbray knew not what to determine. On the onehand, he was bound by his promise to the Earl; on the other, his sisterwas in no condition to receive such a visitor; nay, it was mostprobable, that if he adopted the strong measure of compelling her toreceive him, her behaviour would probably be such as totally to breakoff the projected match, on the success of which he had founded so manycastles in the air. In this dilemma, he had again recourse to argument.
"Clara," he said, "I am, as I have repeatedly said, your only relationand guardian--if there be any real reason why you ought not to receive,and, at least, make a civil reply to such a negotiation as the Earl ofEtherington has thought fit to open, surely I ought to be intrusted withit. You enjoyed far too much of that liberty which you seem to prize sohighly during my father's lifetime--in the last years of it atleast--have you formed any foolish attachment during that time, whichnow prevents you from receiving such a visit as Lord Etherington hasthreatened?"
"Threatened!--the expression is well chosen," said Miss Mowbray; "andnothing can be more dreadful than such a threat, excepting itsaccomplishment."
"I am glad your spirits are reviving," replied her brother; "but that isno answer to my question."
"Is it necessary," said Clara, "that one must have actually someengagement or entanglement, to make them unwilling to be given inmarriage, or even to be pestered upon such a subject?--Many young mendeclare they intend to die bachelors, why may not I be permitted tocommence old maid at three-and-twenty?--Let me do so, like a kindbrother, and there were never nephews and nieces so petted and soscolded, so nursed and so cuffed by a maiden aunt, as your
children,when you have them, shall be by aunt Clara."
"And why not say all this to Lord Etherington?" said Mowbray; "waituntil he propose such a terrible bugbear as matrimony, before you refuseto receive him. Who knows, the whim that he hinted at may have passedaway--he was, as you say, flirting with Lady Binks, and her ladyship hasa good deal of address, as well as beauty."
"Heaven improve both, (in an honest way,) if she will but keep hislordship to herself!" said Clara.
"Well, then," continued her brother, "things standing thus, I do notthink you will have much trouble with his lordship--no more, perhaps,than just to give him a civil denial. After having spoken on such asubject to a man of my condition, he cannot well break off without yougive him an apology."
"If that is all," said Clara, "he shall, as soon as he gives me anopportunity, receive such an answer as will leave him at liberty to wooany one whatsoever of Eve's daughters, excepting Clara Mowbray. MethinksI am so eager to set the captive free, that I now wish as much for hislordship's appearance as I feared it a little while since."
"Nay, nay, but let us go fair and softly," said her brother. "You arenot to refuse him before he asks the question."
"Certainly," said Clara; "but I well know how to manage that--he shallnever ask the question at all. I will restore Lady Binks's admirer,without accepting so much as a civility in ransom."
"Worse and worse, Clara," answered Mowbray; "you are to remember he ismy friend and guest, and he must not be affronted in my house. Leavethings to themselves.--Besides, consider an instant, Clara--had you notbetter take a little time for reflection in this case? The offer is asplendid one--title--fortune--and, what is more, a fortune which youwill be well entitled to share largely in."
"This is beyond our implied treaty," said Clara. "I have yielded morethan ever I thought I should have done, when I agreed that this Earlshould be introduced to me on the footing of a common visitor; and nowyou talk favourably of his pretensions. This is an encroachment,Mowbray, and now I shall relapse into my obstinacy, and refuse to seehim at all."
"Do as you will," replied Mowbray, sensible that it was only by workingon her affections that he had any chance of carrying a point against herinclination,--"Do as you will, my dear Clara; but, for Heaven's sake,wipe your eyes."
"And behave myself," said she, trying to smile as she obeyedhim,--"behave myself, you would say, like folks of this world; but thequotation is lost on you, who never read either Prior or Shakspeare."
"I thank Heaven for that," said Mowbray. "I have enough to burden mybrain, without carrying such a lumber of rhymes in it as you and LadyPen do.--Come, that is right; go to the mirror, and make yourselfdecent."
A woman must be much borne down indeed by pain and suffering, when sheloses all respect for her external appearance. The madwoman in Bedlamwears her garland of straw with a certain air of pretension; and we haveseen a widow whom we knew to be most sincerely affected by a recentdeprivation, whose weeds, nevertheless, were arranged with a dolorousdegree of grace, which amounted almost to coquetry. Clara Mowbray hadalso, negligent as she seemed to be of appearances, her own art of thetoilet, although of the most rapid and most simple character. She tookoff her little riding-hat, and, unbinding a lace of Indian gold whichretained her locks, shook them in dark and glossy profusion over hervery handsome form, which they overshadowed down to her slender waist;and while her brother stood looking on her with a mixture of pride,affection, and compassion, she arranged them with a large comb, and,without the assistance of any _femme d'atours_, wove them, in the courseof a few minutes, into such a natural head-dress as we see on thestatues of the Grecian nymphs.
"Now let me but find my best muff," she said, "come prince and peer, Ishall be ready to receive them."
"Pshaw! your muff--who has heard of such a thing these twenty years?Muffs were out of fashion before you were born."
"No matter, John," replied his sister; "when a woman wears a muff,especially a determined old maid like myself, it is a sign she has nointentions to scratch; and therefore the muff serves all the purposes ofa white flag, and prevents the necessity of drawing on a glove, soprudentially recommended by the motto of our cousins, theM'Intoshes."[II-4]
"Be it as you will, then," said Mowbray; "for other than you do will it,you will not suffer it to be.--But how is this!--another billet?--We arein request this morning."
"Now, Heaven send his lordship may have judiciously considered all therisks which he is sure to encounter on this charmed ground, and resolvedto leave his adventure unattempted," said Miss Mowbray.
Her brother glanced a look of displeasure at her, as he broke the sealof the letter, which was addressed to him with the words, "Haste andsecrecy," written on the envelope. The contents, which greatly surprisedhim, we remit to the commencement of the next chapter.
FOOTNOTE:
[II-4] The well known crest of this ancient race, is a cat rampant with amotto bearing the caution--"Touch not the cat, but [_i.e._ _be out_, orwithout] the glove."