'Sit down, my dear Colambre—' And she began precisely with her old sentence—
'With the fortune I brought your father, and with my lord's estate, I CAWNT understand the meaning of all these pecuniary difficulties; and all that strange creature Sir Terence says is algebra to me, who speak English. And I am particularly sorry he was let in this morning—but he's such a brute that he does not think anything of forcing one's door, and he tells my footman he does not mind NOT AT HOME a pinch of snuff. Now what can you do with a man who could say that sort of thing, you know—the world's at an end.'
'I wish my father had nothing to do with him, ma'am, as much as you can wish it,' said Lord Colambre; 'but I have said all that a son can with propriety say, and without effect.'
'What particularly provokes me against him,' continued Lady Clonbrony, 'is what I have just heard from Grace, who was really hurt by it, too, for she is the warmest friend in the world: I allude to the creature's indelicate way of touching upon a tender PINT, and mentioning an amiable young heiress's name. My dear Colambre, I trust you have given me credit for my inviolable silence all this time upon the PINT nearest my heart. I am rejoiced to hear you was so warm when she was mentioned inadvertently by that brute, and I trust you now see the advantages of the projected union in as strong and agreeable a PINT of view as I do, my own Colambre; and I should leave things to themselves, and let you prolong the DEES of courtship as you please, only for what I now hear incidentally from my lord and the brute, about pecuniary embarrassments, and the necessity of something being done before next winter. And indeed I think now, in propriety, the proposal cannot be delayed much longer; for the world begins to talk of the thing as done; and even Mrs. Broadhurst, I know, had no doubt that, if this CONTRETEMPS about the poor Berryls had not occurred, your proposal would have been made before the end of last week.'
Our hero was not a man to make a proposal because Mrs. Broadhurst expected it, or to marry because the world said he was going to be married. He steadily said that, from the first moment the subject had been mentioned, he had explained himself distinctly; that the young lady's friends could not, therefore, be under any doubt as to his intentions; that, if they had voluntarily deceived themselves, or exposed the lady in situations from which the world was led to make false conclusions, he was not answerable: he felt his conscience at ease—entirely so, as he was convinced that the young lady herself, for whose merit, talents, independence, and generosity of character he professed high respect, esteem, and admiration, had no doubts either of the extent or the nature of his regard.
'Regard, respect, esteem, admiration!—Why, my dearest Colambre! this is saying all I want; satisfies me, and I am sure would satisfy Mrs Broadhurst and Miss Broadhurst too.'
'No doubt it will, ma'am; but not if I aspired to the honour of Miss Broadhurst's hand, or professed myself her lover.'
'My dear, you are mistaken; Miss Broadhurst is too sensible a girl, a vast deal, to look for love, and a dying lover, and all that sort of stuff; I am persuaded—indeed I have it from good, from the best authority—that the young lady—you know one must be delicate in these cases, where a young lady of such fortune, and no despicable family too is concerned; therefore I cannot speak quite plainly—but I say I have it from the best authority, that you would be preferred to any other suitor, and, in short, that—'
'I beg your pardon, madam, for interrupting you,' cried Lord Colambre, colouring a good deal; 'but you must excuse me if I say, that the only authority on which I could believe this is one from which I am morally certain I shall never hear it from Miss Broadhurst herself.'
'Lord, child! if you would only ask her the question, she would tell you it is truth, I daresay.'
'But as I have no curiosity on the subject, ma'am—'
'Lord bless me! I thought everybody had curiosity. But still, without curiosity, I am sure it would gratify you when you did hear it; and can't you just put the simple question?'
'Impossible!'
'Impossible!—now that is so very provoking when the thing is all but done. Well, take your own time; all I will ask of you then is, to let things go on as they are going—smoothly and pleasantly; and I'll not press you farther on the subject at present, Let things go on smoothly, that's all I ask, and say nothing.'
'I wish I could oblige you, mother; but I cannot do this. Since you tell me that the world and Miss Broadhurst's friends have already misunderstood my intentions, it becomes necessary, in justice to the young lady and to myself, that I should make all further doubt impossible. I shall, therefore, put an end to it at once, by leaving town to-morrow.'
Lady Clonbrony, breathless for a moment with surprise, exclaimed, 'Bless me! leave town to-morrow! Just at the beginning of the season! Impossible!—I never saw such a precipitate, rash young man. But stay only a few weeks, Colambre; the physicians advise Buxton for my rheumatism, and you shall take us to Buxton early in the season—you cannot refuse me that. Why, if Miss Broadhurst was a dragon, you could not be in a greater hurry to run away from her. What are you afraid of?'
'Of doing what is wrong—the only thing, I trust, of which I shall ever be afraid.'
Lady Clonbrony tried persuasion and argument—such argument as she could use—but all in vain—Lord Colambre was firm in his resolution; at last, she came to tears; and her son, in much agitation, said—
'I cannot bear this, mother! I would do anything you ask, that I could do with honour; but this is impossible.'
'Why impossible? I will take all blame upon myself; and you are sure that Miss Broadhurst does not misunderstand you, and you esteem her, and admire her, and all that; and all I ask is, that you'll go on as you are, and see more of her; and how do you know but you may fall in love with her, as you call it, to-morrow?'
'Because, madam, since you press me so far, my affections are engaged to another person. Do not look so dreadfully shocked, my dear mother—I have told you truly, that I think myself too young, much too young, yet to marry. In the circumstances in which I know my family are, it is probable that I shall not for some years be able to marry as I wish. You may depend upon it that I shall not take any step, I shall not even declare my attachment to the object of my affection, without your knowledge; and, far from being inclined to follow headlong my own passions—strong as they are—be assured that the honour of my family, your happiness, my mother, my father's, are my first objects: I shall never think of my own till these are secured.'
Of the conclusion of this speech, Lady Clonbrony heard only the sound of the words; from the moment her son had pronounced that his affections were engaged, she had been running over in her head every probable and improbable person she could think of; at last, suddenly starting up, she opened one of the folding-doors into the next apartment, and called—
'Grace!—Grace Nugent!—put down your pencil, Grace, this minute, and come here!'
Miss Nugent obeyed with her usual alacrity; and the moment she entered the room, Lady Clonbrony, fixing her eyes full upon her, said—
'There's your cousin Colambre tells me his affections are engaged.'
'Yes, to Miss Broadhurst, no doubt,' said Miss Nugent, smiling, with a simplicity and openness of countenance which assured Lady Clonbrony that all was safe in that quarter: a suspicion which had darted into her mind was dispelled.
'No doubt. Ay, do you hear that NO DOUBT, Colambre?—Grace, you see, has no doubt; nobody has any doubt but yourself, Colambre.'
'And are your affections engaged, and not to Miss Broadhurst?' said Miss Nugent, approaching Lord Colambre.
'There now! you see how you surprise and disappoint everybody, Colambre.'
'I am sorry that Miss Nugent should be disappointed,' said Lord Colambre.
'But because I am disappointed, pray do not call me Miss Nugent, or turn away from me, as if you were displeased.'
'It must, then, be some Cambridgeshire lady,' said Lady Clonbrony. 'I am sure I am very sorry he ever went to Cambridge,—Oxford I advised: one of t
he Miss Berryls, I presume, who have nothing. I'll have nothing more to do with those Berryls—there was the reason of the son's vast intimacy. Grace, you may give up all thoughts of Sir Arthur.'
'I have no thoughts to give up, ma'am,' said Miss Nugent, smiling. 'Miss Broadhurst,' continued she, going on eagerly with what she was saying to Lord Colambre—'Miss Broadhurst is my friend, a friend I love and admire; but you will allow that I strictly kept my promise, never to praise her to you, till you should begin to praise her to me. Now recollect, last night, you did praise her to me, so justly, that I thought you liked her, I confess; so that it is natural I should feel a little disappointed. Now you know the whole of my mind; I have no intention to encroach on your confidence; therefore, there is no occasion to look so embarrassed. I give you my word, I will never speak to you again upon the subject,' said she, holding out her hand to him, 'provided you will never again call me Miss Nugent. Am I not your own cousin Grace—Do not be displeased with her.'
'You are my own dear cousin Grace; and nothing can be farther from my mind than any thought of being displeased with her; especially just at this moment, when I am going away, probably for a considerable time.'
'Away!—when?—where?'
'To-morrow morning, for Ireland.'
'Ireland! of all places,' cried Lady Clonbrony. 'What upon earth puts it into your head to go to Ireland? You do very well to go out of the way of falling in love ridiculously, since that is the reason of your going; but what put Ireland into your head, child?'
'I will not presume to ask my mother what put Ireland out of her head,' said Lord Colambre, smiling; 'but she will recollect that it is my native country.'
'That was your father's fault, not mine,' said Lady Clonbrony; 'for I wished to have been confined in England; but he would have it to say that his son and heir was born at Clonbrony Castle—and there was a great argument between him and my uncle, and something about the Prince of Wales and Caernarvon Castle was thrown in, and that turned the scale, much against my will; for it was my wish that my son should be an Englishman born—like myself. But, after all, I don't see that having the misfortune to be born in a country should tie one to it in any sort of way; and I should have hoped your English EDICATION, Colambre, would have given you too liberal IDEARS for that—so I REELLY don't see why you should go to Ireland merely because it's your native country.'
'Not merely because it is my native country; but I wish to go thither—I desire to become acquainted with it—because it is the country in which my father's property lies, and from which we draw our subsistence.'
'Subsistence! Lord bless me, what a word! fitter for a pauper than a nobleman-subsistence! Then, if you are going to look after your father's property, I hope you will make the agents do their duty, and send us remittances. And pray how long do you mean to stay?'
'Till I am of age, madam, if you have no objection. I will spend the ensuing months in travelling in Ireland; and I will return here by the time I am of age, unless you and my father should, before that time, be in Ireland.'
'Not the least chance of that, if I can prevent it, I promise you,' said Lady Clonbrony.
Lord Colambre and Miss Nugent sighed.
'And I am sure I shall take it very unkindly of you, Colambre, if you go and turn out a partisan for Ireland, after all, like Grace Nugent.'
'A partisan! no;—I hope not a partisan, but a friend,' said Miss Nugent.
'Nonsense, child!—I hate to hear people, women especially, and young ladies particularly, talk of being friends to this country or that country. What can they know about countries? Better think of being friends to themselves, and friends to their friends.'
'I was wrong,' said Miss Nugent, 'to call myself a friend to Ireland; I meant to say, that Ireland had been a friend to me; that I found Irish friends, when I had no other; an Irish home, when I had no other; that my earliest and happiest years, under your kind care, had been spent there; and that I can never forget THAT my dear aunt—I hope you do not wish that I should.'
'Heaven forbid, my sweet Grace!' said Lady Clonbrony, touched by her voice and manner—'Heaven forbid! I don't wish you to do or be anything but what you are; for I am convinced there's nothing I could ask you would not do for me; and, I can tell you, there's few things you could ask, love, I would not do for you.'
A wish was instantly expressed in the eyes of her niece.
Lady Clonbrony, though not usually quick at interpreting the wishes of others, understood and answered, before she ventured to make her request in words.
'Ask anything but THAT, Grace. Return to Clonbrony, while I am able to live in London? That I never can or will do for you or anybody!' looking at her son in all the pride of obstinacy; 'so there is an end of the matter. Go you where you please, Colambre; and I shall stay where I please:—I suppose, as your mother, I have a right to say this much?'
Her son, with the utmost respect, assured her that he had no design to infringe upon her undoubted liberty of judging for herself; that he had never interfered, except so far as to tell her circumstances of her affairs, with which she seemed to be totally unacquainted, and of which it might be dangerous to her to continue in ignorance.
'Don't talk to me about affairs,' cried she, drawing her hand away from her son. 'Talk to my lord, or my lord's agents, since you are going to Ireland, about business—I know nothing about business; but this I know, I shall stay in England, and be in London, every season, as long as I can afford it; and when I cannot afford to live here, I hope I shall not live anywhere. That's my notion of life; and that's my determination, once for all; for, if none of the rest of the Clonbrony family have any, I thank Heaven I have some spirit.' Saying this, with her most stately manner she walked out of the room. Lord Colambre instantly followed her; for, after the resolution and the promise he had made, he did not dare to trust himself at this moment with Miss Nugent.
There was to be a concert this night at Lady Clonbrony's, at which Mrs. and Miss Broadhurst were, of course, expected. That they might not be quite unprepared for the event of her son's going to Ireland, Lady Clonbrony wrote a note to Mrs. Broadhurst, begging her to come half an hour earlier than the time mentioned in the cards, 'that she might talk over something PARTICULAR that had just occurred.'
What passed at this cabinet council, as it seems to have had no immediate influence on affairs, we need not record. Suffice it to observe, that a great deal was said, and nothing done. Miss Broadhurst, however, was not a young lady who could be easily deceived, even where her passions were concerned. The moment her mother told her of Lord Colambre's intended departure, she saw the whole truth. She had a strong mind—was capable of drawing aside, at once, the curtain of self-delusion, and looking steadily at the skeleton of truth—she had a generous, perhaps because a strong mind; for, surrounded, as she had been from her childhood, by every means of self-indulgence which wealth and flattery could bestow, she had discovered early, what few persons in her situation discover till late in life, that selfish gratifications may render us incapable of other happiness, but can never, of themselves, make us happy. Despising flatterers, she had determined to make herself friends to make them in the only possible way—by deserving them. Her father made his immense fortune by the power and habit of constant, bold, and just calculation. The power and habit which she had learned from him she applied on a far larger scale; with him, it was confined to speculations for the acquisition of money; with her, it extended to the attainment of happiness. He was calculating and mercenary: she was estimative and generous.
Miss Nugent was dressing for the concert, or, rather, was sitting half-dressed before her glass, reflecting, when Miss Broadhurst came into her room. Miss Nugent immediately sent her maid out of the room.
'Grace,' said Miss Broadhurst, looking at Grace with an air of open, deliberate composure, 'you and I are thinking of the same thing—of the same person.'
'Yes, of Lord Colambre,' said Miss Nugent, ingenuously and sorrowfully.
'Th
en I can put your mind at ease, at once, my dear friend, by assuring you that I shall think of him no more. That I have thought of him, I do not deny—I have thought, that if, notwithstanding the difference in our ages, and other differences, he had preferred me, I should have preferred him to any person who has ever yet addressed me. On our first acquaintance, I clearly saw that he was not disposed to pay court to my fortune; and I had also then coolness of judgment sufficient to perceive that it was not probable he should fall in love with my person. But I was too proud in my humility, too strong in my honesty, too brave, too ignorant; in short, I knew nothing of the matter. We are all of us, more or less, subject to the delusions of vanity, or hope, or love—I—even I!—who thought myself so clear-sighted, did not know how, with one flutter of his wings, Cupid can set the whole atmosphere in motion; change the proportions, size, colour, value, of every object; lead us into a mirage, and leave us in a dismal desert.'
'My dearest friend!' said Miss Nugent, in a tone of true sympathy.
'But none but a coward, or a fool would sit down in the desert and weep, instead of trying to make his way back before the storm rises, obliterates the track, and overwhelms everything. Poetry apart, my dear Grace, you may be assured that I shall think no more of Lord Colambre.'
'I believe you are right. But I am sorry, very sorry, it must be so.'
'Oh, spare me your sorrow!'
'My sorrow is for Lord Colambre,' said Miss Nugent. 'Where will he find such a wife?—Not in Miss Berryl, I am sure—pretty as she is; a mere fine lady! Is it possible that Lord Colambre! Lord Colambre! should prefer such a girl—Lord Colambre!'
Miss Broadhurst looked at her friend as she spoke, and saw truth in her eyes; saw that she had no suspicion that she was herself the person beloved.
The Absentee Page 9
