Charlotte Smith- Collected Poetical Works

by Charlotte Smith

  Montalbert in confusion quitted the table near which he was standing, and Rosalie, whose cheeks were dyed with blushes, was putting away her drawings; but Mrs. Vyvian, speaking mildly, bade her not disturb herself; then, welcoming her daughters, she said, “My dears, here is your playfellow and acquiantance, the youngest Miss Lessington, your old friend Rosalie.”

  Miss Vyvian, towards whom her younger sister seemed to look, as if to regulate her own behaviour, turned haughtily to Rosalie, and making her a formal and cold curtsey, muttered something in so low a voice, that it could not be heard; then, without taking any further notice, began to tell her mother where she had been, and who she had seen. Miss Barbara, the youngest, took not the least notice of Rosalie, but, as if she had never seen her before, sat profoundly silent.

  Montalbert, who remarked with indigination this insolent behaviour, and who saw a faint blush of grief and regret wavering on the pale cheek of Mrs. Vyvian, was tempted to express some part of what he felt, but he checked himself, and had determined to go, when Miss Vyvian, casting a malicious look at the drawing-table, and then at Rosalie, who sat by it unoccupied, said, “Oh! I see now, Mr. Montalbert, from whence it happens, that your friends in town complain that they never see you —— you have found employment here in teaching some of the fine arts.”

  “If I were capable of teaching them, (replied Montalbert, who could not so command his countenance, but that it expressed his resentment), if I were capable, Miss Vyvian, of instructing, I should think myself highly honoured were that young lady to become my scholar; but, I assure you, she is already so great a proficient, that it would not be in my power to improve the elegance of her execution.”

  “Oh! I dare say, (replied Miss Vyvian); and now I recollect, Miss Lessington, I think you used to be fond of drawing, and had some lessons when you lived with us. But, Mr. Montalbert, since this lady has no occasion for your instructions, do tell me what it is you do with yourself? Do you know, that out of the few people I have seen, at least a dozen have asked me, what is become of my gay and gallant cousin? Some have affected, (added she, with a very significant look), that you are married, and others, that you are become melancholy mad for the love of some rural beauty; but all agree that you are a lost creature.”

  Mrs. Vyvian, however, hurt at such a wild and improper speech, had not time to express, as much as she dared do, her sense of its indecorum, before she was struck with the pale countenance of Rosalie, who seemed ready to faint. Montalbert was about to reply, when Mrs. Vyvian, as if unable to check herself, rose from her seat, and taking Rosalie’s hand, said, in a tremulous voice, “I am sorry, my dear Miss Lessington, that you are so shocked at the unkindnessand rudeness of Miss Vyvian; I will take care that you shall not again be subject to it. My woman shall wait on you home, and I beg you and your mother will accept my apology, thus hastily made, till I can renew it in person.”

  Rosalie, who had never seen Mrs. Vyvian exert so much spirit before, but who was more terrified than ever, least the retort of her daughter should bring on a quarrel of which she would be the cause; alarmed too at the hint given about Montalbert, and almost sinking under her apprehensions of every kind, was glad to quit the room, which she did immediately; but, disabled by the violence of her emotions to go farther than the next, she sat down and burst into tears.

  While she was, however, reasoning herself into some degree of composure, Mrs. Vyvian, whose languid spirits were roused by the ill-behaviour of her daughter, was reproving her in very bitter terms, such indeed as she had never used before; but far from feeling the severity of a remonstrance she so well deserved, she affected to turn off her impertinence with a laugh. “Dear Madam, (cried she), I had no notion of making you so angry. Upon my honour I meant nothing in the way of affronting your fair protogée; and as to behaving as if I had forgotten her, dear, you know one really forgets every body in a year or two.”

  “You have at least forgotten yourself, Miss Vyvian,” said her mother.

  Miss Barbara now fancied it necessary for her to enter into a defence of her sister. “I am sure, Madam, my sister meant nothing; but one must really feel it grating to find that Miss, that country parson’s daughter, preferred to us. People have often said, indeed, a great while ago, that the Lessington family had as much of your favour as your nearest relations. I am sure neither of us, neither my sister or me, had a thought of offending you — but it does seem hard to your own children, to see people, who are comparatively strangers, so much more taken notice of.”

  “It is you and your sister Barbara, (said the unhappy mother, while sobs stifled her voice), who have estranged yourselves from me; it is you and your sister —— — —” She could not go on. Montalbert, shocked by the sight of her distress, approached her, and, tenderly taking her hand, said, “Dearest Madam, do not, I implore you, distress yourself thus. These ladies are young and inconsequent; they may learn, and, I heartily hope, will, to know the value of such a mother.” The agony of Mrs. Vyvian redoubled. “Nay, but I intreat you, (continued he), to be calm. Allow me to send your woman to you.”

  “O no! (cried she with a deep sigh), do not leave me, Montalbert. I have in you all the consolation which is left me, now that my son is sent far from me.”

  “Since you oblige me to speak plainer, Madam, (said Miss Vyvian, who seemed wholly unmoved at her mother’s distress), since you compel me to say disagreeable things, I must tell you that it was quite time my brother was sent, as my Papa sent him; for he too was in danger of becoming too much attached to the same people that have weaned your affections from us. I should never have mentioned it, though, I assure you, if I had not seen that girl here, and been so found fault with for not worshipping her enough; for now my brother is gone, it is a matter of indifference to me who her heart attracts; other people are old enough to take care of themselves — but come, sister, our company does not seem just now to give Mama any pleasure; another time, perhaps, we may be more fortunate.”

  “Before you go, (said Mrs. Vyvian, endeavouring to stifle her convulsive sighs, and to speak distinctly), I conjure you to tell me what you mean about my son.”

  “It is a very unwelcome task, Ma’am, (replied her eldest daughter), and I might not be believed; but if you ask the Abbé Hayward, he, perhaps, may obtain credit, even when he tells you so unwelcome a truth, as that your son, when you thought him engaged in quite another tour, was at Holmwood with one or two of his friends, (she cast a malicious look at Montalbert as she said this), and there was reason to apprehend that this Miss, or some of the Misses her sisters, were the occasion of his paying much more frequent visits at the parsonage house, than even you yourself, perhaps, would have approved of, since, I can hardly think, your friendship would induce you to overlook the shocking disparity between the only son of Mr. Vyvian and such people as those.”

  It seemed as if the unfortunate mother was uttery incapable of answering. She repeated in a faint voice, “The Abbé Hayward! — My son — My son at Holmwood!” — Her daughters, who appeared thus to have plunged a dagger in her heart, left her without any attempt to mitigate the pain they had inflicted, and she remained alone with Montalbert, who, during this conversation, had exhibited symptoms of anger and disquiet, which Mrs. Vyvian was too much affected to observe. It was some moments before she had recovered herself enough to command her voice. “Tell me, dear Montablert, (cried she at length), what does Miss Vyvian mean? — Tell me, when was my Charles at Holmwood? — When did he thus visit Mr. Lessington’s famliy?”

  “Never, Madam, I can venture to assure you, with the least improper design.....It is true, that when we were upon our tour this summer round the coast, the Count and I expressed a wish to see Holmwood. He, as having heard it spoken of as a fine old place; I, because I used to be fond of it when I was a boy, and passed there the most pleasant of my hours during my occasional visits to England. As Vyvian was fond of the scheme as we were, we went thither for four or five days. Charles fatigued himself too much, and was t
aken ill; but he recovered perfectly the next day: for some reason or other, he did not seem to wish you and his father should know he had visited Holmwood. This I only know by his enjoining the Count to secrecy, when, he being obliged to return to London, left us there.”

  “You stayed there then some time?”

  “I cannot be correct, (answered Montalbert hesitating; our stay whether there or elsewhere, seemed to me to be a matter of no consequence at the time — nor could I imagine why it was necesary to keep a man’s visit to the seat of his father a secret. As near as I can recollect, we were there about seven or eight days.”

  “Seven or eight days! (repeated Mrs. Vyvian); and did Charles pass much of his time at the house of Mr. Lessington?”

  “Indeed he did not. I believe I may venture to assure you, he never was there but when I accompanied him: I am sure, I may say, that he went with no design that you could disapprove, and that all Miss Vyvian has thought proper to say orginates in misrepresentation on one side, and malicious jealousy on the other. For Heaven’s sake, dearest Madam, make yourself easy! I am persuaded, that, in regard at least to Charles, you have no reason to be otherwise.”

  A little soothed by these assurances, Mrs. Vyvian became more clam, and at that moment seeing the Abbé Hayward coming up the garden, of which he had a key to let himself in, from his morning walk, Montalbert rang for Nesbit, Mrs. Vyvian’s woman, and leaving her mistress in her care, hastened away to speak to him.

  Their conference was long and serious. Mr. Hayward assured Montalbert, that he would quiet the spirits of Mrs. Vyvian relative to the supposed visits of her son at Barlton Brooks, and recommended it to Montalbert very earnestly to conceal as far as was now possible the disagreeable dialogue which had passed that morning. “You know Mr. Vyvian, (said he), and how violent and unfeeling he is....There is no knowing what rudeness and reproaches he may throw on that excellent lady, if this family dispute goes to any length.......I tremble for her peace.” —— The council this good man gave was perfectly reasonable. Montalbert felt that it was so; yet there was something in his manner, when he spoke of the Lessington family, which gave Montalbert an idea of some mystery that he could not comprehend. He returned, however, no more to the house, but hastened to find Rosalie at that of her mother.

  Mrs. Lessington had gone to London early in the morning, was to go to a play that night, and to an opera the next, a spectacle which she had not seen for many years, and about which she had expressed as much eagerness as a girl. It was in hopes of making his advantage of this absence, that Montalbert had met Rosalie at Mrs. Vyvian’s in the morning. Rosalie, dreading importunity which she had no longer resolution to contend with, had taken her shelter there. Mrs. Vyvian, not at all expecting either Montalbert or her daughters, had engaged her to stay all day; when Miss Vyvian’s jealousy and malice awakened by the sight of Rosalie, whom she had never thought so very handsome before, had, together with some circumstances hitherto concealed or stifled, occasioned the scene of the morning: a scene which did more to accelerate the views of Montalbert, than he could have done in another week with all the eloquence of the most passionate love.

  CHAPTER 10

  There could be but little doubt but that the correspondence between Montalbert and Rosalie was suspected, if not absolutely discovered. Firmly as he thought he could rely on the fidelity of the person he had employed, it was but too evident that he was in some degree betrayed, and Rosalie, whom he found in tears, acknowledged that their situation admitted not of hesitation; that Montalbert must either return immediately to Italy, or risque every discovery in regard to his mother, which he had so many reasons to avoid.

  It was vain to weary themselves with conjectures as to the source from which Miss Vyvian derived the intelligence that she detailed with so much malicious pleasure. On any other occasion Montalbert would have flown into one of those transports of passion to which he was but too subject, and have insisted on an explanation; but the tears and terrors of Rosalie, who saw the discovery likely not only to produce evey kind of mischief they dreaded, but eventually to separate them for ever, now checked every impulse of resentment, and left to Montalbert no other wish than to secure her his, and to return to Italy before the malignity of his cousin should have conveyed intelligence thither, which would embroil him for ever with his mother, and probably deprive him of that affluence to which it was now his delight to think he should raise the woman he adored.

  There now seemed no alternative between resigning Montalbert for ever, depriving him of his inheritance by a discovery, or consenting to sacrifice her own scruples. It is not difficult to forsee that she chose the latter. Another whole day was to pass before the return of her mother; and it was settled that the priest, whom Montalbert had engaged, should call early in the morning on pretence of a messge from Mrs. Lessington to Rosalie; that Montalbert should soon after arive on his way to Mrs. Vyvian’s, of whom he was supposed to be on the point of taking leave — and that the marriage should then be celebrated according the the Romish ritual, in the persence of a friend whom Montalbert was to bring with him. There was, in fact, neigher difficuly nor danger of detection in this arrangement. The country servants of Mrs. Lessington, a maid and a boy, took every thing that was told them for granted. The ceremony was soon over, and a testimony of its performance being given to Rosalie, the priest departed to London with the friend of Montalbert, while he himself went to Mrs. Vyvian’s, where he intended to dine, and where he hoped his aunt would, without any solicitation, send for Rosalie. In this, however, he was mistaken: he found Mrs. Vyvian so much affected by the scene of the day before, that she was confined to her bed. She admitted him to her bed side, and he was shocked to see the havoc which even a few hours acute uneasiness had made in her enfeebled frame. “You see, (said she), how it is with me, Montalbert. I have no longer strength to resist that more corrosive of all miseries, the estrangement and ingratitude of my own children — of my daughters, I ought to say — for Charles, my poor boy, I believe loves me; but what I suffer from them, Montalbert, is indeed ——

  ‘Sharper than the serpent’s tooth.”

  Montalbert endeavoured to sooth her agitated spirits, by representing to her, that her daughters were young and thoughtless, giddy with youth, health, and prosperity, and that a few years would, in all probability, produce a fortunate change in their volatile dispositions. “A few years? (said Mrs. Vyvian, with a melancholy smile); and do you think that a very few years, or more probably a very few months, will not finish all for me in a much more certain manner? — O yes! yes!”......

  She paused a moment as if to recover herself, and then said, in a still lower tone, “But there is one thing, my dear Harry, that I wish to say to you, perhaps — perhaps I may never see you agan, and I would feign —— —”

  Montalbert remained silent in anxious expectation of what she was going to say; but, as if she could not collect resolution enought, she sighed deeply, put her hand to her head, and seemed to suffer great pain there; then, becoming more languid, said, “But I hope I shall see you again, Harry, when I am more able to converse: yet surely you do not mean to prolong much your stay in England?”

  “If my mother would grant me permission, (answered he), to stay till spring, I own it would be agreeable to me.”

  “I should not suppose she would, Harry, (said Mrs. Vyvian). I understood that her last letters expressed great anxiety for your return, and you know she does not very patiently bear contradiction.....But I wonder, Montalbert, what attractions England can have for you. Oh! if it were in my power to go to Italy, how ready would I quit this country for ever; and yet —— —” — Again she hesitated and sighed, and Montalbert, finding no pretence for naming Rosalie, and that it was unlikely he should pass the day with her as he had fondly hoped, assured her he would see her again several times before he left England, since he should await the arrival of his next letters before he fixed the day of his departure, and then took his leave.

  It was b
ut too certain, however, that he had that morning received the most positive commands from his mother to set out immediately, mingled with some severe reproaches for his having delayed his journey, from time to time, so much beyond that which he had originally fixed for his stay. He now thought it more than ever impossible to leave Rosalie, though he had sworn that if she were once irrevocably his, he would go without further hesitation. To invent some plausible pretence for the evasion of this promise was now his object, and so great was the reluctance with which he thought of going, that he sometimes determined rather to brave the displeasure of his mother, and boldy to combat her prejudices, than leave his wife, now more dear to him than ever: but was there no medium between these extremities? was it not possible for him to take her with him? — While he meditated on the practicability of such a project, and the arguments he should use to prevail upon her to consent to it, he found himself before the door of Mrs. Lessington’s house, and was going in, when he was amazed and concerned to observe her and her daugher Maria getting out of a coach, which he had till then imagined had just stopped at the house of one of her neighbours. As he could not retreat without being seen, and his uneasy curiosity was excited by this unexpected and unwelcome return, he advanced towards Mrs. Lessington, and was beginning a speech about Mrs. Vyvian, whose name he meant to use as an exuse for his calling; but, without seeming to attend, she began to apologize for not having it in her power to ask him in, being, she said, in great alarm on account of her daughter.