Barbadoes Girl: A Tale for Young People

by George A. Warren

  CHAPTER XIV.

  Time passed, and the children of either house exhibited those gradualchanges which are scarcely perceptible to a parent's eye, under which theyso constantly remain. The young men exchanged school for college; thegirls, under the protecting guardianship of their mothers, were taken intopublic; and a new sense of care, on a new ground, pervaded those anxioushearts, which beat but for their beloved offspring, and which were perhapsmost solicitous for them, at the time they were indulging the innocent andartless gaiety natural to their age.

  As Edmund Harewood had ever been a thoughtful youth, and possessed talentswhich were likely to render his study of the law beneficial both to himselfand the community, Mr. Harewood changed his opinion as to the profession heintended him to pursue, and directed him to prepare for the bar, to theentire satisfaction of the young man.

  Charles had for some time evinced a great desire to enter the army; but ashis mother could not conquer her feelings, so far as to permit it, he wasat length induced to resign the scheme entirely; but his anxiety to travelcontinuing as strong as ever, Mr. Harewood promised, if possible, toprocure him some situation in life which would allow him to indulge hiswishes, consistent with his duty; but this was conceded on the expressterms of his diligent application to study; and as he perceived himselfthe positive necessity of becoming a good linguist, he applied himself tolearning the modern languages with great assiduity.

  Ellen grew up a pretty girl, but her figure was diminutive, and thegentleness and docility which had been ever her happiest characteristic,diffused a charm of feminine softness over her whole person, which was tomany very attractive, though not striking. The equanimity of her temperhad the effect of perpetuating that smooth and dimpled description ofcountenance which is peculiar to childhood; so that, although a year olderthan Matilda, she appeared younger; and when they were seen together amongstrangers, she was considered as a younger sister, supported by the kindattentions of her superior; for Matilda, although very modest, wasdignified, and her person, being elegant and tall, confirmed the idea.

  In a short time, Mrs. Hanson received several offers from men of fortunefor Matilda, all of which were politely but positively refused; for thepoor girl always showed a decided dread of leaving her mother, and veryjustly observed, that a very intimate acquaintance was necessary betweenpersons who bound themselves to so sacred and indissoluble a connectionas marriage; and although naturally too generous and ingenuous to suspectothers of acting from unworthy motives, she was yet aware that a youngwoman who has a large fortune in her own disposal, and who has neitherfather nor brother to investigate the private character of those whoaddress her, has need of a more than ordinary share of prudence, and willbe wise in delaying a consent which deprives her of all control over thewealth of which Providence has appointed her steward.

  Although thus wise in her decision on this important point, and everassigning reasons which showed how utterly unbiassed her affections weretowards the candidates for her favour, yet Matilda did not always act withequal wisdom; she was excessively fond of dancing, and as she acquittedherself with uncommon grace, perhaps vanity furnished her with anadditional motive for her desire to partake this amusement more frequentlythan it suited her mamma; and once she accepted an invitation to a privateball, when Mrs. Weston was her chaperon. Waltzing was introduced, andMatilda, though by no means pleased with the general style of the dance,was struck with certain movements which she thought graceful, and the dayfollowing began to practise them with her young _protegee_.

  "I think you waltz very well," said Mrs. Weston.

  "I soon should do so, I dare say, if I practised it; but as it was new tome, I durst not venture last night, although I made a kind of half promiseto Sir Theodore Branson, that I would do it the very next time we met."

  "Do you call that waltzing?" said Mrs. Hanson, laying down her netting; "itappears to me to be more the work of the hands than the feet a great deal;and you go round and round, child, very foolishly, till one grows giddy tolook at you--so, so--well, and what, do the gentlemen stand by to growgiddy too?"

  "Dear mamma, the gentlemen waltz with the ladies; I said, you know, thatSir Theodore wished me to do it, but I refused."

  "You did perfectly right; I should have been much hurt if you had waltzedwith any man."

  "It is very fashionable, mother."

  "More the pity; but I am sure I need no argument against it to you,Matilda."

  "Indeed, mamma, I see nothing against it--I think it very graceful; and Iam sure, if you had seen Lady Emma Lovell last night, you would havethought so too."

  "My admiration of her person would not for a moment have changed myopinion of her conduct. I see beautiful women, who expose their persons ina manner I decidedly condemn (as I know, Matilda, you do likewise); lookingat them as fine _statues_, I may admire the work of the great Artificer;but the moment I consider them as _women_ filling a respectable place insociety, the wives and daughters of men of rank and probity, and, what isstill stronger, women professing, at least nominally, to be members of theChristian church, I turn from them with disgust and sorrow; and though Isincerely despise all affectation of more exalted purity than others, I yetwill never hesitate to give my voice against a folly so unworthy of my sex,and which can be only tolerated by women whose vanity has destroyed thatdelicacy which is our best recommendation."

  Matilda applied all her mother said to waltzing, and thought it was equallyjust with the strictures she herself felt true, with regard to the mode ofdress adopted by some whom she met in public. Ellen and herself were everwell, and even fashionably, dressed; but yet they avoided the fault theycondemned: for some time, the sisterly affection which really subsistedbetween them, induced them to appear in similar dresses; but as Matildarose to womanhood, a fear lest Ellen should be induced to expense, addedto some jokes that were passed upon her respecting Charles, induced her toforego this plan, and Ellen had too much good sense to pursue it further;and, as the acquaintance of Mrs. Hanson increased, Matilda was necessarilyled into parties where Ellen could not meet her; so that they became insome degree divided in person, but their attachment remained the same. Mrs.Hanson was desirous that her daughter should take a more extensive view ofsociety than was necessary for Ellen; she dreaded an early marriage forher, although she thought it desirable to bring her into society, beingpersuaded that young women of large fortune too frequently are renderedunhappy in the marriage state, by being dazzled at their first outset inlife by the novelty, and gaiety of the scene around them, which leads themto expect a continuance of the same brilliant career, incompatible with theduties of that state into which they incautiously plunge; whereas a shorttime passed in life, would show them the inefficacy of trifling amusementand splendid show to procure real satisfaction, and lead them toinvestigate those circumstances in the minds and situations of theiradmirers, most likely to ensure their future felicity, and most consonantwith their real wants and wishes. The judicious mother saw, with the truestpleasure, that the well-turned mind of her daughter ever pointed to thescenes of simple enjoyment and virtuous intelligence which illumined herearly years; but, in her peculiar situation, she was aware that Matilda,to a certain degree, should adopt the apostle's advice--"Try all things,cleave to that which is good."

  On the other hand, Mr. and Mrs. Harewood, as the young people advancedtowards maturity, had felt it a point of delicacy, however sincere andardent their friendship might be, in a slight degree to abstain from thatintimate and daily intercourse which had so long and happily subsistedbetween the families. The days were past when Charles could romp with, orEdmund instruct, Matilda; and although they held the same rank in society,yet as the noble fortune of Matilda (increased materially by the retiredway in which her mother lived during her infancy) entitled her to marry anobleman, Mr. Harewood did not choose that the presence of his sons shouldcause reports which might prevent her from receiving offers of this nature.He was attached to Matilda, as if she had indeed been his child, but he wasto
o independent, as well as too honest, to render either his presentaffection, or his past services, the medium of increasing the generalregard Matilda had manifested for both his sons into a decided predilectionfor either: nor was he aware that either of the young men had for her thatpeculiar attachment which a man ought to feel for a wife. Edmund was wrapt_apparently_ in a profession which is in its own nature absorbing, andCharles appeared too eager to travel to have any tendency to earlymarriage.

  About a week after the foregoing conversation had taken place betweenMatilda and her mother, the former went again to a ball, with a lady ofrank, who engaged to be her guardian for the night, as Mrs. Hanson and Mrs.Weston had both caught severe colds, from being out late together.

  Lady Araminta Montague, the conductor of Matilda for the evening, was afashionable and showy woman, who never appeared in public without beingsurrounded by all those who affected to be considered persons of taste, andfitted to move in the first style. She was now sought with more than commonavidity, on account of her attractive companion, whom she endeavoured toshow off in the happiest manner, by leading the light conversation of themoment to subjects familiar to Matilda's observation, or likely to drawfrom her those remarks in which the ability and talent she possessed wouldbe naturally, yet strikingly, displayed. Of this species of kindnessMatilda was wholly unconscious, as it was one which her own friends hadnever adopted; when, therefore, she found herself the universal centre ofattraction in the room, it was no wonder that her spirits were unusuallyelated, and her vanity took the lead; so that when the sprightly danceadded its intoxicating powers, and her mind was entranced by the pleasureof the moment, she forgot the resolutions and opinions formed in a wiserhour.

  When the first two country-dances were over, several parties began, as onthe preceding night, to form into couples for the purpose of waltzing, atthat time a novelty in this country; and while Matilda was looking at them,to her surprise, Sir Theodore Branson just entered the room, and asked thehonour of her hand, which he almost claimed as a promise.

  This young gentleman was considered the handsomest man, and the mostelegant dancer, in the circles of fashion. That he was at once a shallowcoxcomb and an encroaching acquaintance, unfortunately did not prevent manyyoung ladies from desiring him as a partner; and when Matilda perceivedthe leer of envy, and the pause of observation directed towards her, shehalf gave him her hand, being conscious that her own figure and style ofdancing would be superior to any other of the candidates for admirationthat had preceded her; yet she paused, remembering her mother's words, and,with a kind of anxious, fearful gaze, that fell like a veil over theexultation and gaiety of her features, she looked an appeal to the ladywho was her guide, or ought to have been.

  "Really, my dear, I don't know what to say; but as the thing is new, ifyou are not quite _au fait_, you will be pardoned, and Sir Theodore is soadmirable a partner, I really think you may venture to try."

  Matilda, in a calmer moment, would have seen how totally distinct herladyship's fears were from those of her mother; but the flutter of herspirits, the demands of her vanity, and the address of her partner,combined to hurry her forward, and she found herself in the midst of thegroup before she was aware: it was then too late to recede: the motion fora short time restored her spirits; but as the arm of Sir Theodore encircledher waist, deep confusion overwhelmed her, she blushed to a degree that wasabsolutely painful; and though unable, in the hurry of the motion, toentertain a positive reflection, yet a thousand thoughts seemed to pressat once for admittance, all tinged with self-reproach; and at length,unable to endure them, she suddenly laid her hand upon her forehead, andran, or rather reeled, to her seat.

  As it was the nature of the dance to produce the sensation of dizziness,this circumstance excited no particular attention, and her partner merelyrallied her upon it, with that air of _badinage_ young men now-a-dayspretty generally adopt. Every word he uttered was distressing to Matilda,who felt as if she were insulted by his freedom, and had degraded herselftoo far to enjoy the right of resenting it; her native pride, however,contending with her self-condemnation, she removed her hand from her eyes,in order to give him a look which would repel his impertinence, and, to herutter astonishment, saw three gentlemen standing before, and lookingearnestly upon her; two of these were her friends, Edmund and CharlesHarewood.

  The moment she looked up, the first withdrew, but Charles and the strangeradvanced; they did not, however, find it very easy to approach her, guardedas she was by the officious Sir Theodore; but as Charles was not easilybalked in any intention he had formed, he succeeded in inquiring after herhealth, and introducing his friend Mr. Belmont to her.

  "I am very glad--I mean I did not know you were here," said Matildaconfusedly.

  "Mr. Belmont introduced us. We only arrived from Oxford yesterday, andEllen, being very anxious that Mr. Belmont should see you, proposed ourcoming hither."

  A little relieved from observing that Edmund still did not join them, underwhose eye she felt that she should have shrunk, Matilda ventured to look atMr. Belmont, recollecting that she had frequently heard him mentioned asthe friend of both the brothers, during their residence at Oxford, and thathe had been the visitant of the family the preceding winter, when she wason an excursion to Bath; she knew that he was highly esteemed by thefamily, and, aware in what a favourable point of view their affection forher would lead them to represent her, the idea that her first introductionhad taken place at a moment which, of all others, she most regretted, wasreally insupportable to her.

  Lady Araminta endeavoured, by her praise, to remove the chagrin which heringenuous countenance (ever the faithful harbinger of her thoughts)betrayed so plainly--"I assure you, my dear," said she, "that for sometime you performed very prettily; didn't you think so, Mr. Harewood?"

  "Pardon me, my lady, from differing with you--I have seen a country actressdo it much better: indeed I said so at the moment--Belmont knows I did; andmy brother observed that----"

  At this moment the country-dance was recommenced, and Matilda was hurriedaway, although her solicitude to hear what Edmund said amounted to misery;but as Charles was addressing Lady Araminta, not her, it was impossible toask; besides, no small portion of anger at Edmund mingled with heranxiety--he had never yet approached her. She knew indeed that his ideas offeminine decorum were rigid; but still he had no right to resent herconduct, or he might have told her as a friend, as he used to do, whereinshe erred. As these thoughts struck upon her mind, he passed her in thedance, and made her a profound bow of recognition; she watched to thebottom, and perceived him engaged in earnest conversation with a verylovely young person, whom she remembered as one of those who refused towaltz; again her heart smote her, yet her anger was the most predominantemotion, and she felt as if Edmund Harewood had injured her beyondforgiveness.

  The waltzing recommenced, but the very name of it was now hateful toMatilda, and she hastily entreated Lady Araminta to order her carriage.Charles was near; accustomed to read her thoughts, he advanced to offer hishand to lead her down stairs--"You are not well, Matilda," said he,tenderly--"at least not comfortable--I am sure you are not."

  Matilda replied only by a smothered sigh.

  "They tell me," continued Charles, "that you are about to marry SirTheodore Branson?"

  "'Tis false," said Matilda, quickly, her bosom evidently palpitating withshame and anger.

  "Then how could you think of waltzing with him? I am sure neither Edmundnor myself would have dared (brothers as we once deemed ourselves) to havetaken--but--really I beg pardon, Miss Hanson; while I condemn another, Iintrude too far myself."

  Matilda was just stepping into the carriage; she turned her eyes onCharles--they were full of tears, tears such as he had seen in herrepentant eyes in early days; he was affected with them--he felt that thelatter part of his speech had hurt her--that she was not the fashionablebelle, but still the good girl he must love and admire.--"Then," cried he,eagerly, "you will not marry that sprig of a baronet--eh, Matilda
?"

  "I will not _indeed_."

  "And do you not mean to waltz again?"

  "No; I was a fool once, but----"

  The carriage drove off, and Charles returned with a light heart to theball-room; but that of Edmund was very heavy, and the friends shortly leftthe gay scene, and returned to Mr. Harewood's.