The Weird of the Wentworths: A Tale of George IV's Time, Vol. 1

by Johannes Scotus

  CHAPTER XIII.

  "Beneath the art-embroidered vest Is often hid a weary breast; And gaiety dissembles ill The pangs that make the sad heart chill, When gold and pleasure strive in vain To buy immunity from pain."--_Anon._

  We now claim Ariosto's privilege, and for a while shift our scene to anelegantly furnished boudoir in one of the best houses in a street in theWest End of London.

  In the centre of this apartment stood a rosewood table covered with agorgeous cloth, on which in charming _neglige_ were scattered severalwell-bound volumes--a few ornaments--an ivory fan beautifully carved--apair of white kid gloves, and a bouquet of flowers. In the centre stooda camphine lamp, which shed a soft light, and disclosed sofas, chairs,and ottomans, all of the same expensive wood, and covered with crimsonvelvet cushions. A grand piano stood near the folding doors which openedinto a smaller back room; a harp stood between the windows, one of whichwas slightly opened, for though it was now nearly ten o'clock there wasno need yet of shutting out the soft west wind that blew lightly fromthe park. The bars of the fireplace were garnished with boughs ofmyrtle, and above the mantelpiece was a large mirror, on either side ofwhich hung a miniature painting, the only two pictures in the room. Thewhole air of the room was one of luxury and elegance, and the sweetperfume of some exotic flowers, which breathed from a smallconservatory into which the other window opened, filled the apartment.

  In the smaller, or back drawing-room, the owner of this residence sat ona sofa trying to decipher the letters of the last novel in the gloaming,which the lamp in the outer room could not illumine. When light quitefailed, she rose and entered the boudoir we have just described, andsitting down on an ottoman between the two windows, passed her fingersalong the chords of the harp, and then bent again over the volume sheperused. In appearance this lady was about twenty-two, though perhapsshe looked older than she really was. From time to time JuanaFerraras--for she it was--looked off her book, and raised her dark eyeto the miniature on the right of the mirror, the counterpart of LordWentworth, whilst the other represented the Earl's fair donna. From thepicture she glanced hurriedly at the door, as if she expected somevisitor. When Lord Wentworth, tired of Juana, determined not to do somean a thing as to cast penniless on the cold world one who hadsacrificed so much for him--he gave her a liberal, nay, a handsome yearlyallowance, besides the residence in which she now lived, on conditionshe was never to trouble, or ask after him again. In the Earl's veryfaults there was mingled the high honour that would never desert ahelpless woman, and he readily parted with a large annual sum in orderto leave her happy as he thought. But gold cannot purchase happiness,and this Juana found. She was endowed with strong passions, and hadreally loved the Earl, and keenly felt his growing coldness. She wassensible she had lived a life of duplicity; but she was not withoutglimpses of a better nature, not without desire of living a differentlife, and now the last chances seemed gone! Her very affluence dependedon her never troubling the Earl more, and this made her very sad.

  Juana was exceedingly tastefully dressed; everything about her washandsome without being showy, as everything about her room was elegantand expensive, without being extravagant. She wore a remarkablywell-made black silk dress--the favourite Spanish colour--which showedoff the figure it professed to hide; a black mantilla fell from the combwhich confined her hair, now dressed in the Spanish way, and gracefullydrooped over her white shoulders; she wore a chain of pearls round herneck, from the end of which was suspended a diamond crucifix; andseveral costly rings gemmed her hand, while bracelets in the shape ofserpents with emerald eyes clasped her well-shaped arms. The younggirl's striking beauty was still the same, and the hot evening, andexertion of fanning herself with the fan, which, as Shakespeare says,"seemed to glow the delicate cheek which it did cool," gave a radiantbloom to her Spanish complexion, enhancing her extreme loveliness. Hereye was darkly lustrous still, but there was an air of discontentedpride in her countenance, and a weary dejectedness, that clouded herbright eyes, which had no business there. All that money could give wason, and around her. But what gold could not purchase was lacking--aheart to enjoy them, and a heart to share her delights. Little they knowof woman's nature, who fancy that _every_ young creature who has not themoral courage to resist temptation and falls, loses her heart with hername! Low, indeed, must she be fallen who has no heart! Name--fame--allmay go--the heart never. And though a life of shame may make it growcallous, and apparently dead; though a life of deceit may freeze itsfeelings; beneath its icy exterior some traces of former sensibility areburied. They may be but the feeble tricklings of the stream, which allthe glacier's cold cannot freeze, but are still quick--still living amida mass of external frigidity.

  Juana, as we have already said, had strong feelings towards the Earl:what woman would not under her circumstances? Mingled with thesesentiments were shadows of distrust; and when she compared their love tothat which had once bound her heart in earlier, happier days, she felthow feeble and how dim was its greatest light. Juana had once hadanother lover--of him we may hereafter hear more--suffice to say deathhad severed their tie, and now:--

  "The love where death _had_ set his seal, Nor age _could_ chill, nor rival steal, Nor falsehood disavow."

  She had been left alone, and whilst no future affection could equal herfirst, earliest love, still the nearest akin to it had been that forLord Wentworth; once more she had been thrown off, and this time notdeath, but falsehood had been the severer! She had been driven from herlast resting place, and she was now like the dove flitting over a coldweary waste, which wist not where to rest her feet. The olive branch wasgone, and she was desolate! In this desertion too her ambition had beenstricken--her pride had received a blow! She had fancied her beautywould have been the means and instrument of raising her to this pitch offancied bliss. She had lived to see her beauty despised--lived to seeher power worthless--and now what was all the wealth--what all theluxury--he had given, when the giver cared for her no more? All that shecould wish seemed round her, but in the midst of all the owner was theonly being whose smile belied her heart! The only one of all who praisedher beauty who was in spirit not sad--but miserable! Tossing theunfinished novel aside Juana rose, sighed deeply, and saunteringtowards the open window, which she raised still higher, gazed out on thestreets down which the watchmen were strolling with their lanterns. Shethen returned to the mirror, exclaiming, "Ah! ha! how tired I am--Iwould I were dead--what is all now without thee?"

  For some moments she looked on the Earl's picture with greatearnestness--then she rang the bell, and when the footman appeared,said--"Bring some refreshments, William--you may clear the table, andput them there--and see that the wines are iced."

  "Dear me," she exclaimed half aloud, as a pretty little timepiece on themantelshelf struck ten--"how late they are!--I expected them an hourago?"

  The footman had just spread out a cold collation, served on silverplate, when the door bell rang, and almost immediately afterwardsappeared the expected visitors. Our readers will not be surprised tohear them announced as Captains de Vere and L'Estrange.

  "Well, gentlemen," said Juana, putting on a smile so sweet we couldhardly imagine her so soon capable of assuming, "you are exceedinglypunctual--just one hour and ten minutes after the time."

  "We crave your pardon, fair Juana, but the delay was unavoidable," saidL'Estrange, advancing and shaking hands.

  "You should put that in the singular, L'Estrange. I care little how longI keep people waiting, and in the case of ladies always make up with akiss," said the Captain, bestowing one on the fair Spaniard's cheek.

  "And how do you do when ladies keep you waiting, Captain de Vere?" saidJuana.

  "Never wait for them, or if they be refractory give them something tomend their memory and manners another time! I see you are all prepared,Juana, at any rate. Here, sirrah!" addressing the servant, "is the wineproperly iced?"

  "Yes, your honour. Can I do anything else?"

  "Nothing but
take yourself off as quick as you can? Stay--tell my man tocall for Sir R. Musgrave, and be here at eleven. Let him be punctual, oregad! I'll know why."

  "Now we are by ourselves let us begin and discuss this affair," saidL'Estrange.

  "To the devil with your discussions till we have got something aboard,as Wilson would say. There's your health, my dark-eyed beauty! andluck!" said the Captain, draining a bumper.

  "Now then, L'Estrange, discuss away--I've enough wine in me to settle mybrain; I hate talking on nothing."

  "On the whole, then, Juana, our plans seem to have miscarried not alittle," said L'Estrange. "Who would have thought of his lordship'spensioning you off so soon? I am sure he shows little taste."

  Juana sighed, without answering.

  "Egad! that's true, he does show little taste; but don't you getdiscouraged, my little Juana."

  "That unfortunate meeting of Lord and Lady Arranmore with the young ladyabroad I fear will undo everything," said the Spaniard.

  "It _was_ unlucky! who the deuce would have thought of such a chance?Now, my brother will be swearing about her fidelity, and God knows whatnot."

  "It is these little chances that spoil everything, unless guardedagainst, and after that capital rumour we got afloat it is too bad."

  "You are plural mad to-night," replied the Captain; "'we', it was _I_,sir, that planned the paragraph, and _I_ who prevented old Ravensworthseeing the denial--it would have been long ere it entered your stupidhead!"

  "Well, Captain, you need not wrangle; we will give you all the credit ofbeing wise in evil! I envy not the distinction, I am sure, and am notsorry to get the infamy off my hands."

  "And d--d ready to profit by it," retorted the Captain. "Well, we won'twrangle, but get to business! Now, my Ahithophel! let us hear what youcan counsel."

  "I would send Juana to Scotland, and get a meeting between her and LordWentworth."

  "Curse women, say I--they spoil everything--one is enough; God knowswhat mischief two may work--better keep Juana here."

  "You are _exceedingly_ polite, Captain de Vere.--I think it a very goodplan, and one that ought certainly to be followed."

  "Don't be angry, dear!--don't look so jolly savage! Go, in the fiend'sname, if you like, and lose everything: thank heaven I have yet a stringthat will not break should this fail."

  "And what if I do lose all, Captain de Vere? what is the use of thisloveless grandeur? I would rather see and speak to Wentworth ten minutesthan live a year in guilty, solitary splendour. You know not what awoman's heart is--let me go?"

  "In troth not I; a woman's heart is an enigma not easy to read; but goto the North, or _elsewhere_ if you will, it irks me not! Only don'tcast it in my teeth if it fails. The plan then is for you and I,L'Estrange, to start for the Towers to-morrow--you can call and seeEllen Ravensworth, and tell her how well Wentworth loves his Juana--showher his letters--I have a packet of them! Work on her jealousy, and ifthat doesn't do I know a plan yet."

  "Would to heaven he did love me still," sighed Juana, as she rose andwent to the sofa, on which she threw herself down. "And when do I go toScotland?"

  "You?--why next day after us, or a day later were better; you andMusgrave can travel together--he is a nice fellow--and that will give metime to arrange with Bill Stacy, who has gone north to hire Cessford'sPeel, an old tower in the south of my brother's estates, which will beyour barracks, my fair one, and nice quarters too! And now, Juana, singus a song, whilst we pitch into this iced punch."

  The young lady opened a richly-chased case, from which she took aSpanish guitar, and sitting on an ottoman commenced tuning it--holdingit in the most elegant manner, which showed off the exquisite shape ofher arm and the full contour of her form. Then running her fingers overthe strings, she played a wild prelude to the following song, which shedelivered in a fine contralto voice--

  SONG.

  No, let me smile no more! there are No joys in store for me, And I grow like some erring star In dark profundity; Which, shorn of every ray, Still rolls its wonted course, And, shrouded in remorse, Hangs unseen night and day!

  No, let me smile no more! the hour Of early bliss is past, And I grow like some faded flower That drooped before the blast; Which wears the selfsame form, Although by blight consumed, With which it brightly bloomed Before that withering storm!

  No, let me smile no more! the beam Of joy would be but glassed In the cold bosom of the stream That froze in winter's blast; Which, though it look above, Gains not those starry heights, And but reflects the lights Whose warmth it cannot prove!

  "Very pretty," said L'Estrange,--"but how melancholy all your songsare."

  "How could they be else than melancholy, when the heart is sad?"answered the lady.

  "I must teach you some more lively airs,--for, by Heaven! you have arare voice," said the Captain. "One like this"--but ere he began, a loudring announced the arrival of the carriage with Sir RichardMusgrave--"I'll sing it another time. Ha! old fellow, how areyou?--well, it is all planned, at least L'Estrange has got everythingcut and dried! He and I start for the Towers to-morrow, and you andJuana must follow in two or three days."

  "I am sure I am flattered by being the guardian of this lady," said SirRichard, regarding Juana with undisguised admiration. "This, then, isthe young lady of whom I have heard so much, and hope soon to knowbetter than I do now."

  "I forgot she is a stranger to you," said the Captain. "Juana, let meintroduce you to Sir Richard, the best fellow who ever wooed fair lady!"

  "And now," said Sir Richard, "I will drink success to our plan, and thenwe had better be off."

  After the toast was drunk the three young men left Juana, and proceededprobably to some place of amusement in town. When they were all gone,Juana,--who had held up so well all the evening, and plied her guestswith the brightest of smiles,--threw herself on the nearest sofa,clasped her two hands together, and burst into an unrestrained flood oftears. All her affected gaiety could not cheat the heart, and when aloneshe was but a woman--a fond but deserted woman!