by Walter Scott
CHAPTER XVIII
Talk with a man out of a window!--a proper saying.
Much Ado about Nothing.
We must proceed with our extracts from Miss Mannering's letters, whichthrow light upon natural good sense, principle, and feelings, blemishedby an imperfect education and the folly of a misjudging mother, whocalled her husband in her heart a tyrant until she feared him as such,and read romances until she became so enamoured of the complicatedintrigues which they contain as to assume the management of a littlefamily novel of her own, and constitute her daughter, a girl ofsixteen, the principal heroine. She delighted in petty mystery andintrigue and secrets, and yet trembled at the indignation which thesepaltry manoeuvres excited in her husband's mind. Thus she frequentlyentered upon a scheme merely for pleasure, or perhaps for the love ofcontradiction, plunged deeper into it than she was aware, endeavouredto extricate herself by new arts, or to cover her error bydissimulation, became involved in meshes of her own weaving, and wasforced to carry on, for fear of discovery, machinations which she hadat first resorted to in mere wantonness.
Fortunately the young man whom she so imprudently introduced into herintimate society, and encouraged to look up to her daughter, had a fundof principle and honest pride which rendered him a safer intimate thanMrs. Mannering ought to have dared to hope or expect. The obscurity ofhis birth could alone be objected to him; in every other respect,
With prospects bright upon the world he came, Pure love of virtue, strong desire of fame, Men watched the way his lofty mind would take, And all foretold the progress he would make.
But it could not be expected that he should resist the snare which Mrs.Mannering's imprudence threw in his way, or avoid becoming attached toa young lady whose beauty and manners might have justified his passion,even in scenes where these are more generally met with than in a remotefortress in our Indian settlements. The scenes which followed have beenpartly detailed in Mannering's letter to Mr. Mervyn; and to expand whatis there stated into farther explanation would be to abuse the patienceof our readers.
We shall therefore proceed with our promised extracts from MissMannering's letters to her friend.
SIXTH EXTRACT
'I have seen him again, Matilda--seen him twice. I have used everyargument to convince him that this secret intercourse is dangerous tous both; I even pressed him to pursue his views of fortune withoutfarther regard to me, and to consider my peace of mind as sufficientlysecured by the knowledge that he had not fallen under my father'ssword. He answers--but how can I detail all he has to answer? He claimsthose hopes as his due which my mother permitted him to entertain, andwould persuade me to the madness of a union without my father'ssanction. But to this, Matilda, I will not be persuaded. I haveresisted, I have subdued, the rebellious feelings which arose to aidhis plea; yet how to extricate myself from this unhappy labyrinth inwhich fate and folly have entangled us both!
'I have thought upon it, Matilda, till my head is almost giddy; nor canI conceive a better plan than to make a full confession to my father.He deserves it, for his kindness is unceasing; and I think I haveobserved in his character, since I have studied it more nearly, thathis harsher feelings are chiefly excited where he suspects deceit orimposition; and in that respect, perhaps, his character was formerlymisunderstood by one who was dear to him. He has, too, a tinge ofromance in his disposition; and I have seen the narrative of a generousaction, a trait of heroism, or virtuous self-denial, extract tears fromhim which refused to flow at a tale of mere distress. But then Brownurges that he is personally hostile to him. And the obscurity of hisbirth, that would be indeed a stumbling-block. O, Matilda, I hope noneof your ancestors ever fought at Poictiers or Agincourt! If it were notfor the veneration which my father attaches to the memory of old SirMiles Mannering, I should make out my explanation with half the tremorwhich must now attend it.'
SEVENTH EXTRACT
'I have this instant received your letter--your most welcome letter!Thanks, my dearest friend, for your sympathy and your counsels; I canonly repay them with unbounded confidence.
'You ask me what Brown is by origin, that his descent should be sounpleasing to my father. His story is shortly told. He is of Scottishextraction, but, being left an orphan, his education was undertaken bya family of relations settled in Holland. He was bred to commerce, andsent very early to one of our settlements in the East, where hisguardian had a correspondent. But this correspondent was dead when hearrived in India, and he had no other resource than to offer himself asa clerk to a counting-house. The breaking out of the war, and thestraits to which we were at first reduced, threw the army open to allyoung men who were disposed to embrace that mode of life; and Brown,whose genius had a strong military tendency, was the first to leavewhat might have been the road to wealth, and to choose that of fame.The rest of his history is well known to you; but conceive theirritation of my father, who despises commerce (though, by the way, thebest part of his property was made in that honourable profession by mygreat-uncle), and has a particular antipathy to the Dutch--think withwhat ear he would be likely to receive proposals for his only childfrom Vanbeest Brown, educated for charity by the house of Vanbeest andVanbruggen! O, Matilda, it will never do; nay, so childish am I, Ihardly can help sympathising with his aristocratic feelings. Mrs.Vanbeest Brown! The name has little to recommend it, to be sure. Whatchildren we are!'
EIGHTH EXTRACT
'It is all over now, Matilda! I shall never have courage to tell myfather; nay, most deeply do I fear he has already learned my secretfrom another quarter, which will entirely remove the grace of mycommunication, and ruin whatever gleam of hope I had ventured toconnect with it. Yesternight Brown came as usual, and his flageolet onthe lake announced his approach. We had agreed that he should continueto use this signal. These romantic lakes attract numerous visitors, whoindulge their enthusiasm in visiting the scenery at all hours, and wehoped that, if Brown were noticed from the house, he might pass for oneof those admirers of nature, who was giving vent to his feelingsthrough the medium of music. The sounds might also be my apology,should I be observed on the balcony. But last night, while I waseagerly enforcing my plan of a full confession to my father, which heas earnestly deprecated, we heard the window of Mr. Mervyn's library,which is under my room, open softly. I signed to Brown to make hisretreat, and immediately reentered, with some faint hopes that ourinterview had not been observed.
'But, alas! Matilda, these hopes vanished the instant I beheld Mr.Mervyn's countenance at breakfast the next morning. He looked soprovokingly intelligent and confidential, that, had I dared, I couldhave been more angry than ever I was in my life; but I must be on goodbehaviour, and my walks are now limited within his farm precincts,where the good gentleman can amble along by my side withoutinconvenience. I have detected him once or twice attempting to sound mythoughts, and watch the expression of my countenance. He has talked ofthe flageolet more than once, and has, at different times, madeeulogiums upon the watchfulness and ferocity of his dogs, and theregularity with which the keeper makes his rounds with a loadedfowling-piece. He mentioned even man-traps and springguns. I should beloth to affront my father's old friend in his own house; but I do longto show him that I am my father's daughter, a fact of which Mr. Mervynwill certainly be convinced if ever I trust my voice and temper with areply to these indirect hints. Of one thing I am certain--I am gratefulto him on that account--he has not told Mrs. Mervyn. Lord help me, Ishould have had such lectures about the dangers of love and the nightair on the lake, the risk arising from colds and fortune-hunters, thecomfort and convenience of sack-whey and closed windows! I cannot helptrifling, Matilda, though my heart is sad enough. What Brown will do Icannot guess. I presume, however, the fear of detection prevents hisresuming his nocturnal visits. He lodges at an inn on the oppositeshore of the lake, under the name, he tells me, of Dawson; he has a badchoice in names, that must be allowed. He has not left the army, Ibelieve, but he says nothing of his present views.
'To complete my anxiety, my father is returned suddenly, and in highdispleasure. Our good hostess, as I learned from a bustlingconversation between her housekeeper and her, had no expectation ofseeing him for a week; but I rather suspect his arrival was no surpriseto his friend Mr. Mervyn. His manner to me was singularly cold andconstrained, sufficiently so to have damped all the courage with whichI once resolved to throw myself on his generosity. He lays the blame ofhis being discomposed and out of humour to the loss of a purchase inthe south-west of Scotland on which he had set his heart; but I do notsuspect his equanimity of being so easily thrown off its balance. Hisfirst excursion was with Mr. Mervyn's barge across the lake to the innI have mentioned. You may imagine the agony with which I waited hisreturn! Had he recognized Brown, who can guess the consequence! Hereturned, however, apparently without having made any discovery. Iunderstand that, in consequence of his late disappointment, he meansnow to hire a house in the neighbourhood of this same Ellangowan, ofwhich I am doomed to hear so much; he seems to think it probable thatthe estate for which he wishes may soon be again in the market. I willnot send away this letter until I hear more distinctly what are hisintentions.'
'I have now had an interview with my father, as confidential as, Ipresume, he means to allow me. He requested me to-day, after breakfast,to walk with him into the library; my knees, Matilda, shook under me,and it is no exaggeration to say I could scarce follow him into theroom. I feared I knew not what. From my childhood I had seen all aroundhim tremble at his frown. He motioned me to seat myself, and I neverobeyed a command so readily, for, in truth, I could hardly stand. Hehimself continued to walk up and down the room. You have seen myfather, and noticed, I recollect, the remarkably expressive cast of hisfeatures. His eyes are naturally rather light in colour, but agitationor anger gives them a darker and more fiery glance; he has a customalso of drawing in his lips when much moved, which implies a combatbetween native ardour of temper and the habitual power of self-command.This was the first time we had been alone since his return fromScotland, and, as he betrayed these tokens of agitation, I had littledoubt that he was about to enter upon the subject I most dreaded.
'To my unutterable relief, I found I was mistaken, and that, whateverhe knew of Mr. Mervyn's suspicions or discoveries, he did not intend toconverse with me on the topic. Coward as I was, I was inexpressiblyrelieved, though, if he had really investigated the reports which mayhave come to his ear, the reality could have been nothing to what hissuspicions might have conceived. But, though my spirits rose high at myunexpected escape, I had not courage myself to provoke the discussion,and remained silent to receive his commands.
'"Julia," he said, "my agent writes me from Scotland that he has beenable to hire a house for me, decently furnished, and with the necessaryaccommodation for my family; it is within three miles of that I haddesigned to purchase." Then he made a pause, and seemed to expect ananswer.
'"Whatever place of residence suits you, sir, must be perfectlyagreeable to me."
'"Umph! I do not propose, however, Julia, that you shall reside quitealone in this house during the winter."
'"Mr. and Mrs. Mervyn," thought I to myself.--"Whatever company isagreeable to you, sir," I answered aloud.
'"O, there is a little too much of this universal spirit of submission,an excellent disposition in action, but your constantly repeating thejargon of it puts me in mind of the eternal salaams of our blackdependents in the East. In short, Julia, I know you have a relish forsociety, and I intend to invite a young person, the daughter of adeceased friend, to spend a few months with us."
'"Not a governess, for the love of Heaven, papa!" exclaimed poor I, myfears at that moment totally getting the better of my prudence.
'"No, not a governess, Miss Mannering," replied the Colonel, somewhatsternly, "but a young lady from whose excellent example, bred as shehas been in the school of adversity, I trust you may learn the art togovern yourself."
'To answer this was trenching upon too dangerous ground, so there was apause.
'"Is the young lady a Scotchwoman, papa?"
'"Yes"--drily enough.
'"Has she much of the accent, sir?"
'"Much of the devil!" answered my father hastily; "do you think I careabout a's and aa's, and i's and ee's,? I tell you, Julia, I am seriousin the matter. You have a genius for friendship, that is, for runningup intimacies which you call such." (Was not this very harshly said,Matilda?) "Now I wish to give you an opportunity at least to make onedeserving friend, and therefore I have resolved that this young ladyshall be a member of my family for some months, and I expect you willpay to her that attention which is due to misfortune and virtue."
'"Certainly, sir. Is my future friend red-haired?"
'He gave me one of his stern glances; you will say, perhaps, I deservedit; but I think the deuce prompts me with teasing questions on someoccasions.
'"She is as superior to you, my love, in personal appearance as inprudence and affection for her friends."
'"Lord, papa, do you think that superiority a recommendation? Well,sir, but I see you are going to take all this too seriously; whateverthe young lady may be, I am sure, being recommended by you, she shallhave no reason to complain of my want of attention." After apause--"Has she any attendant? because you know I must provide for herproper accommodation if she is without one."
'"N--no--no, not properly an attendant; the chaplain who lived with herfather is a very good sort of man, and I believe I shall make room forhim in the house."
"'Chaplain, papa? Lord bless us!"
'"Yes, Miss Mannering, chaplain; is there anything very new in thatword? Had we not a chaplain at the Residence, when we were in India?"
'"Yes, papa, but you was a commandant then."
'"So I will be now, Miss Mannering, in my own family at least."
'"Certainly, sir. But will he read us the Church of England service?"
'The apparent simplicity with which I asked this question got thebetter of his gravity. "Come, Julia," he said, "you are a sad girl, butI gain nothing by scolding you. Of these two strangers, the young ladyis one whom you cannot fail, I think, to love; the person whom, forwant of a better term, I called chaplain, is a very worthy, andsomewhat ridiculous personage, who will never find out you laugh at himif you don't laugh very loud indeed."
'"Dear papa, I am delighted with that part of his character. But pray,is the house we are going to as pleasantly situated as this?"
'"Not perhaps as much to your taste; there is no lake under thewindows, and you will be under the necessity of having all your musicwithin doors."
'This last coup de main ended the keen encounter of our wits, for youmay believe, Matilda, it quelled all my courage to reply.
'Yet my spirits, as perhaps will appear too manifest from thisdialogue, have risen insensibly, and, as it were, in spite of myself.Brown alive, and free, and in England! Embarrassment and anxiety I canand must endure. We leave this in two days for our new residence. Ishall not fail to let you know what I think of these Scotch inmates,whom I have but too much reason to believe my father means to quarterin his house as a brace of honourable spies; a sort of femaleRozencrantz and reverend Guildenstern, one in tartan petticoats, theother in a cassock. What a contrast to the society I would willinglyhave secured to myself! I shall write instantly on my arriving at ournew place of abode, and acquaint my dearest Matilda with the fartherfates of--her
'JULIA MANNERING.'
