Complete Poetical Works of Charlotte Smith

by Charlotte Smith

  ‘I have not discovered,’ replied Somerive, ‘in all I have collected from Orlando, that the aunt is at all privy to their attachment. But that indeed may be her art – She possesses more than almost any woman I ever knew; and had she much less, she must know that the bare suspicion of such an intrigue, on the part of Mrs Rayland, would occasion the disgrace of Orlando – the expulsion of the girl from the house – and perhaps the ruin of herself, if the least idea occurred of her being of their counsel.’

  ‘Upon the whole, then, my friend,’ cried the General, ‘I think that the putting of Orlando into some profession immediately seems the only prudent measure you can take. This will probably ascertain Mrs Rayland’s intentions, if they are in his favour; and, if they are not, will remove him from a situation which appears in my mind a thousand times more likely to ruin him for life, than even those imprudences of which you complain in his brother: for be assured, my dear Sir, a young fellow is never so completely ruined as when he has married foolishly – Every other folly is retrievable; but an engagement of that sort blasts a man’s fortune for ever: and the wisest thing he can do afterwards is to hang himself.’

  Though Mr Somerive, who was not a ‘man of the world,’ and who had experienced many years of happiness with a woman whom he married for love, was by no means of Tracy’s opinion as to marriages of affection in general, he saw the variety of evils such a marriage would bring on Orlando, in as strong a light as his friend could represent them. He therefore entirely acquiesced in the necessity of his being removed from Rayland Hall; and waited with impatience for Orlando’s account of what had passed in that conference which he had undertaken to hold with the old lady, on the subject of his entering the army.

  Just as he parted from General Tracy, who about an hour and a half before dinner retired to his toilet, Orlando appeared on horseback. His father met him; and bidding him join him in the garden as soon as he had put his horse in the stable, he walked thither – Orlando in a moment attended him. ‘Well,’ said Mr Somerive gravely, ‘have you had an opportunity of conversing with Mrs Rayland on this matter? I have it every hour more at heart, and am determined that you shall be removed from your present situation, unless, what is not to be expected, she signifies her positive resolution to make you very ample amends for your loss of time, and gives me assurances of it.’

  Orlando, in this peremptory determination of his father, fancied he saw the machinations of his brother to get him away from the Hall; but, without expressing any part of the pain such a suspicion gave him, he answered, ‘You know, my dear Sir, that in our last conference on this subject, I assured you of what I now desire to repeat, that I live only to obey you: but I have had no opportunity of speaking to Mrs Rayland on this subject; for, when I saw her on the first evening of my return to the Hall, it was with great difficulty I could appease the anger she felt at our having dined with Stockton.’

  ‘She knew it then?’

  ‘Oh, yes! – Lennard and Pattenson take care she shall know every thing. At length, however, I had the good fortune, not only to obtain a remission of my offence, but to engage her to invite our family and the General to dine at her table on Thursday, when the tenants’ feast is to be held at the Hall. Mrs Rayland piques herself on shewing the General, whom she respects as a man of family, a specimen of old English hospitality, in opposition to the modern profusion of the Castle – and her desire to obtain his suffrage in favour of the ancient mode of living at Rayland Hall, has performed what no other consideration would have effected. This unexpected project entered her head the moment I had described our visit; and all yesterday was passed in considering about it, and debating with Lennard whether she should be well enough. To-day it is decided that she shall, and I am sent with the invitation, which certainly you and my mother and sisters will accept; and I suppose General Tracy will oblige us by going also.’

  ‘Of that there can be no doubt,’ replied Mr Somerive.

  ‘I thought, therefore,’ added Orlando, ‘that you and the General might have an opportunity, during the course of the day, of introducing the conversation relative to my entering the army; and that it would be perhaps better than my abruptly disclosing what may, in some of her humours, appear to Mrs Rayland as a desire on my part to quit her.’

  ‘You have certainly given my ancient cousin love powder, Orlando,’ said Mr Somerive smiling; ‘for I never heard that, even in her younger days, she shewed for any body as much affection as she lately has done to you.’

  ‘And yet,’ replied Orlando, ‘I am almost certain that it goes no farther than a little present kindness, or perhaps a small legacy.’

  Mr Somerive, feeling that this was too probable, and was indeed what he had just before been repeating to General Tracy, sighed deeply – and bidding Orlando go with his message of invitation to his mother and sisters, he sent up the card to the General; and then went on his usual circuit round his farm, desiring Orlando to stay dinner.

  CHAPTER VII

  ORLANDO returned to Rayland Hall in the evening, carrying with him the most polite answer from General Tracy; and, from his own family, assurances of the grateful pleasure with which they accepted Mrs Rayland’s invitation for the following Thursday. Poor Monimia too, though she was to have no other part in this festivity than to assist her aunt in preparing for it, heard with satisfaction from Orlando that it was fixed, because she believed that this unusual civility towards his family and their guest was an indubitable mark of Mrs Rayland’s increasing affection for him.

  Orlando, however, who from his father’s last conversation, and from his persuasion that Mrs Rayland would not oppose it, saw that his departure was certain, and would soon happen, thought it cruel to encourage the flattering impressions which the soft heart of Monimia so readily received, and which he had himself taught her to cherish when they were apparently much less likely to be realised. He therefore, when they met this evening, renewed, what he had sometimes distantly touched upon before, the probability that he must soon enter the army, and quit, at least for a time, the spot which, while she remained on it, contained all that gave value to his life. The tender, timid Monimia, in whose idea every kind of danger was attendant on the name of soldier, was thunderstruck with this intelligence: and it was not till Orlando had tried every argument to soothe and console her, that she was able to shed tears. ‘Could we hope, my Monimia,’ said he, when he found her composed enough to listen to him – ‘could we hope to continue as we are, and to converse thus undiscovered for years to come, tell me if there is not too much bitter mingled with the few transient moments of happiness, to make us reasonably wish to continue it? When we meet, is it not always in fear and apprehension? and are we not ever liable to the same alarm as that from which you suffered so cruelly three weeks since? – Alas! even now we are in the power of an unprincipled ruffian, who, though he appeared willing to engage for mutual secrecy, may, in a fit of drunkenness, betray us; or, through mere insolence, tell – because he has the power of telling. He did not see you; but he knows, and indeed so does Pattenson, that somebody was with me; and the very jealousy that misleads the old rogue Pattenson, will perhaps make him watch and discover us. I need not, Monimia, describe all I should suffer for you if that were to happen; nothing would remain for us but to fly together: and surely I need not add, that if I did not fear to expose you, my angel, to the miseries of poverty, I would, without hazarding a discovery, fly to-morrow; but I am, you know, under age, and we could not marry in England. If I was thus to disoblige my father, he would abandon me for ever, and from Mrs Rayland I could expect nothing. Such is the melancholy train of thought I have been compelled to admit in reflecting on our present situation. Perhaps the line of life that is proposed for me is the only one that we can with hope look forward to for the future.’ – He paused a moment: Monimia stifled the sobs that convulsed her bosom; she could not speak, but sat with her handkerchief to her eyes, and her head resting on her hand, while he proceeded – ‘It is certain that I mus
t tear myself from you; that I must enter on a new scene of life, and perhaps encounter some difficulties and hardships; but would you not despise a man of my age, who would not so purchase independence? If I have a profession, I shall have something on which to depend, if Mrs Rayland will not, and my father cannot provide for me; something on which, if I have tolerable fortune, I may in a few years be enabled to support my Monimia. Can I, ought I with such hopes to hesitate?’

  ‘I allow,’ replied Monimia with a deep sigh – ‘I allow that you ought not.’

  ‘While General Tracy lives,’ resumed Orlando, ‘he will be my friend; at least such are his promises to my father. He assures him that he will make a point of my speedy promotion; and his interest is certainly such as leaves no doubt of his having the power to do it.’

  ‘Ah, Orlando!’ said Monimia in a low and broken voice, ‘you speak only of the good, and forget or conceal the evil. What if you are maimed, or killed? What then becomes of Monimia, who could not die too, but must live perhaps the most desolate and miserable creature upon earth?’

  ‘General Tracy,’ replied Orlando, ‘has assured my father, that the regiment in which he means to procure me a commission, and for which they are now recruiting, is about to be immediately recalled from America, where the war must very soon terminate in favour of England, and that therefore I shall certainly not be sent abroad; he even says, that as soon as I have my commission, it is highly probable that I shall be ordered into this country on a recruiting party and may take up my quarters for two or three months in this neighbourhood.’

  These reasonable arguments, joined to the flattering hope that Orlando might, though entered on a profession by which he would, she believed, become independent, still remain in England, and even be occasionally in his native county, added to the conviction that they could not long continue to see each other without being discovered, reconciled Monimia to the thoughts of his accepting the commission offered to him by the General; and she became more calm, and able to talk of it with some degree of composure. Orlando, on their parting for that time, besought her to assure him that she would make herself easy, and learn to think of his destination rather as a matter of satisfaction than apprehension. Monimia promised all he desired: but she was no sooner alone than her apprehensions again returned, and the sad possibilities that she had before enumerated recurred in all their terrors to her imagination. To these many were added, of which she dared not speak to Orlando: the fears that he might forget her; and that when once entered on new scenes, and among all the beauty, elegance, and accomplishments which she read of in magazines and newspapers, the humble Monimia would be remembered no longer. This seemed to her so probable, and was so distressing to her heart, that she thought she could better endure almost every other evil. Sleep refused to banish these cruel ideas from her mind; and the morning broke, and called her from her restless bed to her task of attending on her aunt in the housekeeper’s room, before she could find any comfort in any of her reflections, unless it was the hope that Mrs Rayland might oppose the scheme of sending Orlando away, since Monimia persuaded herself that she every day became fonder of his company.

  Monimia appeared before her aunt so pale, from want of sleep, and from the acute uneasiness she had undergone, that Mrs Lennard, notwithstanding her usual insensibility, took notice of it.

  ‘Hey-day, girl!’ cried she, ‘why what’s the matter now? Why you look, I protest, as if you had been up all night! Pray what have you been about?’

  ‘About, aunt!’ said Monimia, while a faint blush, excited by fear and consciousness, wavered a moment on her check – ‘I have been about nothing.’

  ‘That is what you generally are about, I think,’ replied Mrs Lennard harshly. ‘But I suppose you have been sitting up after some nonsense or other – with your books or your writing. I shall put an end to Madam Betty’s career, I promise you; I know she lets you have candles, and gets books for you out of the Study, though I have time after time forbidden her to do any such thing.’

  Monimia, willing to let it be thought that Betty did do so, rather than excite any other suspicion by denying it, only said mildly – ‘I hope, dear aunt, there is no harm in my trying to improve myself, if I do not therefore neglect what you order me to do?’

  ‘Improve yourself!’ – Yes, truly, a pretty improvement – Your chalky face and padded eyes are mighty improvements: and I’d be glad to know what good your reading does you, but to give you a hankering after what you’ve no right to expect? An improved lady will be above helping me, I suppose, very soon.’

  ‘What I am, my dear aunt,’ answered Monimia, ‘it will be time enough for you to forbid my reading, but till then, pray don’t be angry if I endeavour to obtain a little common instruction.’

  ‘Don’t be impertinent,’ exclaimed Mrs Lennard; ‘don’t be insolent – for if you are, Miss, this house is no place for you. – I see already the blessed effects of your reading – you fancy yourself a person of consequence: but I shall take care to put an end to it; for, if Betty supplies you with candles, I’ll discharge her.’

  ‘She has not indeed, my dear aunt,’ said Monimia, whose generous mind could not bear that another should suffer for her.

  ‘She has not! – what has she not?’ enquired Mrs Lennard.

  ‘She has not lately supplied me with candles,’ replied Monimia.

  ‘How is it then,’ cried Mrs Lennard, fixing on her a stern and enquiring eye, ‘that light is sometimes, aye and very lately too, seen from your window, at hours when your own candle is taken away, and when you ought to be in bed?’

  To this Monimia could answer nothing, but that it was true she had now and then saved a piece of wax candle herself; but, in order to put an end to an enquiry which had already made her tremble with the most cruel apprehensions, she endeavoured less to account for what had happened, and which she could not deny, than to appease her aunt by very earnest assurances that what offended her should happen no more, and that, since she so much disliked her reading of a night, she would never again practise it.

  Mrs Lennard seemed to be somewhat satisfied by these protestations – though, while Monimia was with many tears repeating them, her fierce eyes were fixed on the countenance of her trembling niece with a look of questioning doubt, which made Monimia shrink with dread – for it seemed to intimate that more was suspected than was expressed.

  At length, however, she condescended to appear pacified; and summoning Betty and another of the maid-servants she gave them their employment in preparing for the grand dinner: then ordering Monimia to take her share, and the superintendence of the whole, she returned to the parlour; and poor Monimia glad to be relieved from her presence, proceeded as cheerfully in her task as her melancholy reflections on what had passed with Orlando the preceding night, and her newly-awakened dread of her aunt’s suspicions, would allow her to do.

  Mr Somerive was much at a loss to know how to act in regard to his eldest son: fondly flattering himself that this beloved son had seen the dangerous errors of his former conduct, he could not bear the idea of shewing any resentment at what was passed, or that, by his being left out of the party going to Rayland Hall, he should be considered as an exile from the favour of Mrs Rayland; yet, to let him go without an invitation, he knew, would give offence, and he knew not how to set about obtaining one. Orlando, who passed a few moments with him in the course of the preceding Wednesday, saw his father’s uneasiness, because he had felt something of the same kind himself about his brother; and he generously, though without making any merit of it, undertook to remove this source of vexation, by engaging Mrs Rayland to invite him. This was an arduous task, as the old Lady had not seen him for more than two years, and during that time had heard only evil reports of his conduct. The offence he had given her by associating with the Stockton set, and even joining in those trespasses of which she believed she had so much reason to complain, had embittered her mind against him, even more than his gaieties and extravagance: – yet Orland
o, by assuring Mrs Rayland that he was now sensible of his error, that he was come home with a resolution to remain with his family, and that it would discourage him in the career of reformation if she did not seem ready to forgive, and again consider him as a part of it, so flattered her self-consequence, and soothed her resentment, that she agreed to receive Philip as one of her guests, and commissioned Orlando to carry an invitation to his brother: nor could she, with all her natural severity of temper, and little sensibility to great or generous actions, help being affected by the noble disinterestedness of her young favourite, who thus laboured to reconcile to her a brother who would have been considered by most young men as a formidable rival in her favour, and have been assiduously kept at the distance to which he had thrown himself. This exalted goodness of heart she put down immediately to the account of the Rayland blood; and in praising Orlando to Mrs Lennard, to whom she now often spoke of him with pleasure, she remarked, that he every day became more and more like the Rayland family – ‘What fine eyes the young man has!’ cried she, ‘and how they flashed fire when he was pleading for that sad brother of his with so much earnestness! – And then when I seemed willing to oblige him, what a fine countenance! I could almost have fancied it was my grandfather’s picture walked out of its frame, if it had not been for the difference of dress!’

  Mrs. Lennard assented, and encouraged every favourable idea her Mistress entertained of Orlando; but all this while a mine was proceeding against him, of which the success would inevitably ruin all his hopes.