Collected Works of Frances Trollope

by Frances Milton Trollope

  Lady Elizabeth very unceremoniously made room for her next herself, by desiring a gentleman who occupied the seat beside her, which was on a small sofa filling the recess by the chimney, to leave it.

  “I beg a thousand pardons, sir, but I see no other place in the room where we could hope for space to sit thus tête-à-tête together, and did you know how near and dear she was to me, you would, I am sure, excuse me.”

  The gentleman, though not a young one, assured her with the appearance of much sincerity that to yield a seat to such a young lady could be considered only as honour and happiness by every man. Having thus established her restored favourite at her side, Lady Elizabeth began to whisper innumerable questions about Miss Compton.

  “How came it, my dear,” said she, “that when opening your heart to Emily and me upon the subject of your unfortunate situation with Mrs. Barnaby, you never referred to the possibility of placing yourself under the protection of Miss Compton?”

  “Because my aunt Compton having quarrelled with my aunt Barnaby had refused to take any further notice of me, — Mrs. Barnaby at least led me to believe during the six or seven months I passed with her, that every application on my part to Miss Compton would be vain, ... and it was only the dreadful predicament into which Mrs. Barnaby’s arrest threw me, that gave me the desperate courage which I thought necessary for applying to her. But I have since learned, Lady Elizabeth, that at any time, one word from me would have sufficed to make her leave her retirement, as she now has done, and remove me from my dreadful situation.”

  “But it appears that she is not only a kind aunt, but a wealthy one, my dear child.... Excuse the observation, Agnes, ... situated as we now are together, you cannot deem it impertinent, ... but your dress indicates as great and as favourable a change in pecuniary matters, as your letter, and your happy countenance, announces in all others.... Miss Compton, I presume, is a woman of fortune?”

  “Her fortune is larger than I imagined it to be,” replied Agnes. “She lived with great economy before she adopted me.”

  “And do you know what her intentions are, Agnes?” rejoined the persevering old lady. “It is only as the aunt of Colonel Hubert ... remember this, my dear ... it is only as Colonel Hubert’s aunt that I ask the question.”

  Agnes blushed with most happy consciousness as she replied. “The interest you so kindly take in me confers both honour and happiness, and however averse to boast of the kindness bestowed, and promised by my dear aunt, I can have no wish to hide from you, Lady Elizabeth, all she has said to me. She knows the honour that has been done me by Colonel Hubert, and knows too, that nothing but the fear of your displeasure could have made me hesitate to accept it; ... and she says, that should no such displeasure interfere, she would bestow a fortune on me.”

  “Well, my dear, ... I don’t believe that any such displeasure is likely to interfere. When will you introduce us to her?”

  “To-morrow, Lady Elizabeth!...” Agnes eagerly replied, “if you will give us leave to wait upon you.”

  “Yes, that is right, my dear, quite right.... She must call on me first, ... and yet I am not quite sure of that either.... I rather think the friends of the gentleman should wait upon the friends of the lady, ... and so I will call upon her to-morrow morning, and remember, when you have introduced us to each other, you may go away; we must talk on business. What is her address?”

  Agnes gave the address very distinctly, which was repeated in the same manner by Lady Elizabeth, just as Mrs. Pemberton approached to entreat her permission to lead her to the pianoforte. “You are going to sing, my dear child! Very good.... I shall be delighted to hear you.... And you must get me a place where I can both look at, and listen to her, Mrs. Pemberton,” said Lady Elizabeth.

  Considerably surprised, but much pleased to find that the acquaintance she had condescended to make with Mrs. Peters had led to her having the honour of receiving so intimate a friend and favourite of her most illustrious guest, Mrs. Pemberton rather ostentatiously performed the service required of her, and Agnes once more stood up to sing with Lady Elizabeth’s arm-chair almost as near to her as on the happy night when she first won the old lady’s heart at Cheltenham.

  But where was Colonel Hubert?... He had stood anxiously watching the first few words that passed between his aunt and Agnes; and when he saw her cavalier dismission of her neighbour, and the cordial style of amity with which she pursued her conversation with the beautiful interloper, he almost forgot his doubts and fears in the happiness of seeing one obstacle so decidedly removed, and prudently denying himself the pleasure of being near them, lest his presence might render the conversation less confidential, he withdrew to the other room, and only appeared again before the eyes of Agnes when he took his place beside her to turn over the pages of her song.

  For the first few moments Agnes feared that she was too happy to sing; ... but she tried, and found that her voice was clear, and was determined that it should soon be steady, for she wished ... let youthful ladies judge how ardently ... to renew the impression which she had made on Colonel Hubert on that never-to-be-forgotten morning when she first dared to fancy he loved her.

  Nor were her wishes vain. She sang as well, and he felt as strongly as before. Her pleasure as she watched this was perfect, but his was very far from being so; he saw that she was the centre of attraction, and not only, as before, the admired of every eye, and the enchanter of every ear, but also the most distinguished, fashionable, and important young lady present.

  There was not, however, a shadow of the paltry feeling called jealousy in this; the pang that smote his heart arose from memory, and not from imagination. Could he, as he now saw this elegant girl the centre of fashion, and the petted favourite of his own proud aunt, forget the generous devoted passion of the unfortunate Frederick? Could he forget that he had used all the influence which the young man’s affection to himself had lent him, to make him abandon an attachment so every way calculated to ensure his happiness?... Could he forget that Frederick was now living an exile from his country, the victim of unhappy love, while he, his trusted confidant, but most pernicious adviser, remained to profit by the absence he himself had caused, and to drain the cup of happiness which his hand had dashed from the lips of his wretched friend?

  As long as Mrs. Barnaby continued to hang about her, and in some degree to overshadow her with the disgrace of her vulgar levity, Agnes could not be loved without a sacrifice, and the youth and splendid fortune of Frederick Stephenson, as well as the peculiarly strong feelings of his family on the subject, might have stood as reasons why another, less fettered by circumstances, might have married her, though he could not. But how stood the matter now? Agnes had been snatched from Mrs. Barnaby, and borne completely beyond the sphere of her influence; Stephenson’s proud brother seemed to bow before her, while his wife selected her as a chosen friend; and worse, a thousand times worse than all the rest, he had learnt, while he wandered among the company before the music commenced, that Agnes was the proclaimed heiress of fifteen hundred a-year. This last, however, for his comfort, he did not believe; but there was enough without it, to make him feel that, should he even be so blessed as to teach her to forget the difference of their age, and make her young heart his own, he must, by becoming her husband, appear to the friend who had trusted him, as one of the veriest traitors under heaven.

  Such thoughts were enough to jar the sweetest harmony; and the evening was altogether productive of more pain than pleasure to the unfortunate Colonel Hubert, who having staked his happiness on a marriage, only to be obtained by the consent of his aunt, was now suffering martyrdom from a plethora of success, and would have gladly changed his condition back to what it had been when, regardless of consequences, he had laid his heart at the feet of Agnes by the light of her one tallow-candle in Half-moon Street, while her sole protectress lay imprisoned in the Fleet.

  When the party broke up, Colonel Hubert, leaving his aunt to the care of Sir Edward, escorted Mrs. Peter
s and the four young ladies down stairs, where another shock awaited him on hearing her servant enquire which carriage should be called up first, for before answering, Mrs. Peters turned to Agnes, and said, —

  “To which name are your servants accustomed to answer, my dear? Miss Compton told me you would have your own carriage here, but perhaps this might only be another mode of saying you would have hers. Shall they call Miss Compton’s carriage, or Miss Willoughby’s, Agnes?”

  “They will answer to either, I believe,” replied Agnes, carelessly, for she was waiting for Colonel Hubert to finish something he was saying to her.

  “Call Miss Willoughby’s carriage, then,” said Mrs. Peters to the servants in waiting.... And “Miss Willoughby’s carriage! Miss Willoughby’s carriage!” resounded along the hall, and through the street.

  CHAPTER XIII.

  DEMONSTRATING THE HEAVY SORROW WHICH MAY BE PRODUCED BY A YOUNG LADY’S HAVING A LARGER FORTUNE THAN HER LOVER EXPECTED.

  Miss Compton was not long kept waiting for the appearance of her promised visitor on the following morning, for before twelve o’clock Lady Elizabeth Norris arrived. Agnes very punctually obeyed the commands that had been given her, and having properly introduced the two old ladies to each other, left them together, and hastened at length to satisfy the anxious curiosity of her friend Mary, by giving her a full account of all the circumstances that had led to the happy change in her prospects.

  Her tale was listened to with unbroken attention, and when it was ended Miss Peters exclaimed —

  “Now then, I forgive you, Agnes, and only now, for not returning the love of that very pleasant person Frederick Stephenson; ... for I do believe it is nearly impossible for a young lady to be in love with two gentlemen at once, and I now perceive beyond the shadow of a doubt, that the superb colonel turned your head from the very first moment that you looked ... not up on, but up to him. How very strange it is,” she continued, “that I should never have suspected the cause of that remarkable refusal!... I imagine my dulness arose from my humility; I was conscious myself that I should quite as soon have taken the liberty of falling in love with the autocrat of all the Russias, as with Colonel Hubert, and it therefore never occurred to me that you could be guilty of such audacity; nevertheless, I will not deny that he is a husband to be proud of ... and so I wish you joy heartily.... But do tell me,” she added after a moment’s meditation, “how you mean to manage about Mr. Stephenson?... Your first meeting will be rather awkward, will it not?”

  “I fear so,” replied Agnes, gravely. “But there is no help for it, and I must get over it as well as I can ... fortunately none of the family have the slightest idea of any such thing, and I hope they never will.”

  “I hope so, too, dear. But it would be very unpleasant, would it not? if, upon hearing what is going on, he were to burst in among you, and insist upon shooting Colonel Hubert.”

  This was said playfully, and without a shadow of serious meaning; but it rendered Agnes extremely uneasy, and it required some skill and perseverance on the part of Miss Peters to remove the effect of what she had said. There were, however, too many pleasant points of discourse among the multitude of subjects before them, for her young spirits to cling long to the only one that seemed capable of giving her pain, and on the whole their long and uninterrupted conference was highly gratifying to them both.

  While this was going on in Rodney Place, something of the same kind, but without any drawback at all, was proceeding in the Mall, between the two old ladies, the result of which may be given more shortly by relating what passed between Lady Elizabeth and her nephew afterwards, than by following them through the whole of their very interesting, but somewhat desultory conversation.

  Colonel Hubert was awaiting the return of his aunt with much anxiety; an anxiety, by the way, which proceeded wholly from the fear that what she might have to report should prove his Agnes to be un meilleur parti than he wished to find her. This singular species of uneasiness was in no degree lessened by the aspect of the old lady as she entered the drawing-room in which he was waiting to receive her.

  “This is a very singular romance, Montague, as ever I remember to have heard of,” she began. “Here is this pretty creature, who was introduced to us as niece and adopted child, as I fancied, of the vulgarest and most atrociously absurd woman in England, without money or wit enough to keep her out of jail, and now she turns out to be a young lady of large fortune, perfectly well educated, and well descended on both sides of her house ... and all this, too, without any legerdemain, denouements, or discoveries.... I wish you joy heartily, Montague.... Her fortune is exactly what was wanted to make yours comfortable ... she has fifteen hundred a year, part of which is, by Miss Compton’s account, a very improvable estate in Devonshire; — but I suspect the old lady will like to give a name to your second son, or should you have no second son, to a daughter. Nor can I blame her for this. By her account, Compton of Compton Basett has endured long enough in the land to render the wish that it should not pass away a very reasonable one; especially for the person who holds, and has to bequeath the estate, to which it has for centuries been annexed; so that point, I presume, you will not cavil at. You must take care, however, that the liberal-minded old gentlewoman, in making this noble settlement on her niece, does not leave herself too bare.... She talked of the trifle that would follow at her death.... This ought not to be a trifle, and were I you, Montague, I would insist that the amount settled on Agnes at your marriage should not exceed one thousand a-year.... This, with the next step in your profession, will make your income a very sufficient one, even without the regiment which you have such fair reason to hope for.”

  During the whole of this harangue, Colonel Hubert was suffering very severely; till by the time her ladyship had concluded, his imagination became so morbidly alive, that he almost fancied himself already in the presence of his injured friend ... he fancied him hastening home to be a witness at his marriage, and gazing with a cold reproachful eye as the beauty, the wealth, the connexions of Agnes were all shewn to be exactly what his friends would have approved for him, had not a false, a base, an interested adviser, contrived to render vain his generous and honourable love, that he might win the precious prize himself.

  What a picture was this for such a mind as Hubert’s to contemplate!... Had not Lady Elizabeth been exceedingly occupied by the curious and unexpected discoveries she had made concerning the race and the rents of the Comptons, she must have perceived how greatly the effect of her statement was the reverse of pleasurable to her auditor; but in truth her attention was not fixed upon him, but upon Miss Compton, whom she considered as one of the most remarkable originals she had ever met with, and ceased not to congratulate herself upon the happy chance which had turned her yielding kindness to her nephew into a source of so much interesting speculation to herself.... Receiving no answer to the speech she had made, she added very good-humouredly, —

  “That’s all, Mr. Benedict.... Now you may depart to look for the young lady, and you may tell her, if you please, that upon the whole I very much doubt if the united kingdoms might not be ransacked through, without finding any one I should more completely approve in all ways as the wife of Montague Hubert.... Poor Sir Edward!... How he will wish that all his anxieties respecting his hare-brained brother had been brought to a termination by the young man’s having had the wit to fall in love with this sweet girl instead of you; ... but I doubt if Frederick Stephenson has sufficient taste and refinement of mind to appreciate such a girl as Agnes.... He probably overlooked her altogether, or perhaps amused himself more by quizzing the absurdities of the aunt, than by paying any particular attention to her delicate and unobtrusive niece. It required such a mind as yours, Montague, to overcome all the apparent obstacles and objections with which she was surrounded.... I honour you for it, and so, perhaps, will your giddy-headed friend too, when he comes to know her. She is a gem that we shall all have reason to be proud of.”

  Colonel H
ubert could bear no more, but muttering something about wishing immediately to write letters, he hurried out of the room, and shut himself into the parlour which had been appropriated to his morning use. Without giving himself time to think very deliberately of the comparative good and evil that might ensue, he seized a pen, and wrote the following letter to Mr. Stephenson.

  “Dear Frederick,

  “We parted painfully, and my regard for you is too sincere for me to endure the idea of meeting again with equal pain. I have had reason since you left England, to believe, that notwithstanding the very objectionable manners and conduct of Mrs. Barnaby, her niece, Miss Willoughby, is in every way worthy of the attachment, you conceived for her; nay, that her family and fortune are such as even your brother and sisters would approve. I will not conceal from you that there are others who have discovered (though not so early as yourself) the attractions and the merits of Miss Willoughby; but who can say, Frederick, that if your early and generous devotion were made known to her, she might not give you the preference over those who were less prompt in surrendering their affections than yourself? If, then, your feelings towards her continue to be the same as when we parted at our breakfast table at Clifton ... and this I cannot doubt, for Agnes is not formed to be loved once, and then forgotten ... if you still love her, Frederick, hasten home, and take the advantage which your early conceived and unhesitating affection gives you over those who saw her more than once, before they discovered how important she was to their happiness.

  “Notwithstanding the impatience with which you listened to my remonstrances on the subject of a connexion with Mrs. Barnaby, I believe that they were in truth the cause of your abandoning a pursuit in which your heart was deeply interested; and so believing, I cannot rest till I have told you that a marriage with Miss Willoughby no longer involves the necessity of any personal intercourse with Mrs. Barnaby. They are separated, and probably for ever.