But what need for all this splendour? this wonderful toilette? this
dazzling neck and shoulders, whereof the brightness and beauty blinded
the eyes of lookers-on? She was dressed as gaudily as an actress of the
Varietes going to a supper at Trois Freres. "It was Mademoiselle Mabille
en habit de coeur," Madame d'Ivry remarked to Madame Schlangenbad.
Barnes, who with his bride-elect for a partner made a vis-a-vis for his
sister and the admiring Lord Rooster, was puzzled likewise by Ethel's
countenance and appearance. Little Lady Clara looked like a little
schoolgirl dancing before her.
One, two, three, of the attendants of her Majesty the Queen of Scots were
carried off in the course of the evening by the victorious young beauty,
whose triumph had the effect, which the headstrong girl perhaps herself
anticipated, of mortifying the Duchesse d'Ivry, of exasperating old Lady
Kew, and of annoying the young nobleman to whom Miss Ethel was engaged.
The girl seemed to take a pleasure in defying all three, a something
embittered her, alike against her friends and her enemies. The old
dowager chaffed and vented her wrath upon Lady Anne and Barnes. Ethel
kept the ball alive by herself almost. She refused to go home, declining
hints and commands alike. She was engaged for ever so many dances more.
Not dance with Count Punter? it would be rude to leave him after
promising him. Not waltz with Captain Blackball? He was not a proper
partner for her? Why then did Kew know him? Lord Kew walked and talked
with Captain Blackball every day. Was she to be so proud as not to know
Lord Kew's friends? She greeted the Captain with a most fascinating smile
as he came up whilst the controversy was pending, and ended it by
whirling round the room in his arms.
Madame d'Ivry viewed with such pleasure as might be expected the
defection of her adherents, and the triumph of her youthful rival, who
seemed to grow more beautiful with each waltz, so that the other dancers
paused to look at her, the men breaking out in enthusiasm, the reluctant
women being forced to join in the applause. Angry as she was, and knowing
how Ethel's conduct angered her grandson, old Lady Kew could not help
admiring the rebellious beauty, whose girlish spirit was more than a
match for the imperious dowager's tough old resolution. As for Mr.
Barnes's displeasure, the girl tossed her saucy head, shrugged her fair
shoulders, and passed on with a scornful laugh. In a word, Miss Ethel
conducted herself as a most reckless and intrepid young flirt, using her
eyes with the most consummate effect, chattering with astounding gaiety,
prodigal of smiles, gracious thanks and killing glances. What wicked
spirit moved her? Perhaps had she known the mischief she was doing, she
would have continued it still.
The sight of this wilfulness and levity smote poor Lord Kew's honest
heart with cruel pangs of mortification. The easy young nobleman had
passed many a year of his life in all sorts of wild company. The
chaumiere knew him, and the balls of Parisian actresses, the coulisses of
the opera at home and abroad. Those pretty heads of ladies whom nobody
knows, used to nod their shining ringlets at Kew, from private boxes at
theatres, or dubious Park broughams. He had run the career of young men
of pleasure, and laughed and feasted with jolly prodigals and their
company. He was tired of it: perhaps he remembered an earlier and purer
life, and was sighing to return to it. Living as he had done amongst the
outcasts, his ideal of domestic virtue was high and pure. He chose to
believe that good women were entirely good. Duplicity he could not
understand; ill-temper shocked him: wilfulness he seemed to fancy
belonged only to the profane and wicked; not to good girls, with good
mothers, in honest homes. Their nature was to love their families; to
obey their parents; to tend their poor; to honour their husbands; to
cherish their children. Ethel's laugh woke him up from one of these
simple reveries very likely, and then she swept round the ballroom
rapidly, to the brazen notes of the orchestra. He never offered to dance
with her more than once in the evening; went away to play, and returned
to find her still whirling to the music. Madame d'Ivry remarked his
tribulation and gloomy face, though she took no pleasure at his
discomfiture, knowing that Ethel's behaviour caused it.
In plays and novels, and I dare say in real life too sometimes, when the
wanton heroine chooses to exert her powers of fascination, and to flirt
with Sir Harry or the Captain, the hero, in a pique, goes off and makes
love to somebody else: both acknowledge their folly after a while, shake
hands, and are reconciled, and the curtain drops, or the volume ends. But
there are some people too noble and simple for these amorous scenes and
smirking artifices. When Kew was pleased he laughed, when he was grieved
he was silent. He did not deign to hide his grief or pleasure under
disguises. His error, perhaps, was in forgetting that Ethel was very
young; that her conduct was not design so much as girlish mischief and
high spirits; and that if young men have their frolics, sow their wild
oats, and enjoy their pleasure, young women may be permitted sometimes
their more harmless vagaries of gaiety, and sportive outbreaks of wilful
humour.
When she consented to go home at length, Lord Kew brought Miss Newcome's
little white cloak for her (under the hood of which her glossy curls, her
blushing cheeks, and bright eyes looked provokingly handsome), and
encased her in this pretty garment without uttering one single word. She
made him a saucy curtsey in return for this act of politeness, which
salutation he received with a grave bow; and then he proceeded to cover
up old Lady Kew, and to conduct her ladyship to her chariot. Miss Ethel
chose to be displeased at her cousin's displeasure. What were balls made
for but that people should dance? She a flirt? She displease Lord Kew? If
she chose to dance, she would dance; she had no idea of his giving
himself airs; besides it was such fun taking away the gentlemen of Mary
Queen of Scots' court from her; such capital fun! So she went to bed,
singing and performing wonderful roulades as she lighted her candle and
retired to her room. She had had such a jolly evening!! such famous fun,
and, I dare say (but how shall a novelist penetrate these mysteries?),
when her chamber door was closed, she scolded her maid and was as cross
as two sticks. You see there come moments of sorrow after the most
brilliant victories; and you conquer and rout the enemy utterly, and then
regret that you fought.
CHAPTER XXXIV
The End of the Congress of Baden
Mention has been made of an elderly young person from Ireland, engaged by
Madame la Duchesse d'Ivry, as companion and teacher of English for her
little daughter. When Miss O'Grady, as she did some time afterwards,
quitted Madame d'Ivry's family, she spoke with great freedom regarding
the behaviour of that duchess, and recounted horrors which she, the
latter,
had committed. A number of the most terrific anecdotes issued
from the lips of the indignant Miss, whose volubility Lord Kew was
obliged to check, not choosing that his countess, with whom he was paying
a bridal visit to Paris, should hear such dreadful legends. It was there
that Miss O'Grady, finding herself in misfortune, and reading of Lord
Kew's arrival at the Hotel Bristol, waited upon his lordship and the
Countess of Kew, begging them to take tickets in a raffle for an
invaluable ivory writing-desk, sole relic of her former prosperity, which
she proposed to give her friends the chance of acquiring: in fact, Miss
O'Grady lived for some years on the produce of repeated raffles for this
beautiful desk: many religious ladies of the Faubourg St. Germain taking
an interest in her misfortunes, and alleviating them by the simple
lottery system. Protestants as well as Catholics were permitted to take
shares in Miss O'Grady's raffles; and Lord Kew, good-natured then as
always, purchased so many tickets, that the contrite O'Grady informed him
of a transaction which had nearly affected his happiness, and in which
she took a not very creditable share. "Had I known your lordship's real
character," Miss O'G was pleased to say, "no tortures would have induced
me to do an act for which I have undergone penance. It was that
black-hearted woman, my lord, who maligned your lordship to me: that
woman whom I called friend once, but who is the most false, depraved, and
dangerous of her sex." In this way do ladies' companions sometimes speak
of ladies when quarrels separate them, when confidential attendants are
dismissed, bearing away family secrets in their minds, and revenge in
their hearts.
The day after Miss Ethel's feats at the assembly, old Lady Kew went over
to advise her granddaughter, and to give her a little timely warning
about the impropriety of flirtations; above all, with such men as are to
be found at watering-places, persons who are never seen elsewhere in
society. "Remark the peculiarities of Kew's temper, who never flies into
a passion like you and me, my dear," said the old lady (being determined
to be particularly gracious and cautious); "when once angry he remains
so, and is so obstinate that it is almost impossible to coax him into
good-humour. It is much better, my love, to be like us," continued the
old lady, "to fly out in a rage and have it over; but que voulez-vous?
such is Frank's temper, and we must manage him." So she went on, backing
her advice by a crowd of examples drawn from the family history; showing
how Kew was like his grandfather, her own poor husband; still more like
his late father, Lord Walham; between whom and his mother there had been
differences, chiefly brought on by my Lady Walham, of course, which had
ended in the almost total estrangement of mother and son. Lady Kew then
administered her advice, and told her stories with Ethel alone for a
listener; and in a most edifying manner, she besought Miss Newcome to
menager Lord Kew's susceptibilities, as she valued her own future comfort
in life, as well as the happiness of a most amiable man, of whom, if
properly managed, Ethel might make what she pleased. We have said Lady
Kew managed everybody, and that most of the members of her family allowed
themselves to be managed by her ladyship.
Ethel, who had permitted her grandmother to continue her sententious
advice, while she herself sat tapping her feet on the floor, and
performing the most rapid variations of that air which is called the
Devil's Tattoo, burst out, at length, to the elder lady's surprise, with
an outbreak of indignation, a flushing face, and a voice quivering with
anger.
"This most amiable man," she cried out, "that you design for me, I know
everything about this most amiable man, and thank you and my family for
the present you make me! For the past year, what have you been doing?
Every one of you! my father, my brother, and you yourself, have been
filling my ears wit cruel reports against a poor boy, whom you chose to
depict as everything that was dissolute and wicked, when there was nothing
against him; nothing, but that he was poor. Yes, you yourself,
grandmamma, have told me many and many a time, that Clive Newcome was not
a fit companion for us; warned me against his bad courses, and painted
him as extravagant, unprincipled, I don't know how bad. How bad! I know
how good he is; how upright, generous, and truth-telling: though there
was not a day until lately, that Barnes did not make some wicked story
against him,--Barnes, who, I believe, is bad himself, like--like other
young men. Yes, I am sure there was something about Barnes in that
newspaper which my father took away from me. And you come, and you lift
up your hands, and shake your head, because I dance with one gentleman or
another. You tell me I am wrong; mamma has told me so this morning.
Barnes, of course, has told me so, and you bring me Frank as a pattern,
and tell me to love and honour and obey him! Look here," and she drew out
a paper and put it into Lady Kew's hands. "Here is Kew's history, and I
believe it is true; yes, I am sure it is true."
The old dowager lifted her eyeglass to her black eyebrow, and read a
paper written in English, and bearing no signature, in which many
circumstances of Lord Kew's life were narrated for poor Ethel's benefit.
It was not a worse life than that of a thousand young men of pleasure,
but there were Kew's many misdeeds set down in order: such a catalogue as
we laugh at when Leporello trolls it, and sings his master's victories in
France, Italy, and Spain. Madame d'Ivry's name was not mentioned in this
list, and Lady Kew felt sure that the outrage came from her.
With real ardour Lady Kew sought to defend her grandson from some of the
attacks here made against him; and showed Ethel that the person who could
use such means of calumniating him, would not scruple to resort to
falsehood in order to effect her purpose.
"Her purpose!" cries Ethel. "How do you know it is a woman?" Lady Kew
lapsed into generalities. She thought the handwriting was a woman's--at
least it was not likely that a man should think of addressing an
anonymous letter to a young lady, and so wreaking his hatred upon Lord
Kew. "Besides, Frank has had no rivals--except--except one young
gentleman who has carried his paint-boxes to Italy," says Lady Kew. "You
don't think your dear Colonel's son would leave such a piece of mischief
behind him? You must act, my dear," continued her ladyship, "as if this
letter had never been written at all; the person who wrote it no doubt
will watch you. Of course we are too proud to allow him to see that we
are wounded; and pray, pray do not think of letting poor Frank know a
word about this horrid transaction."
"Then the letter is true?" burst out Ethel. "You know it is true,
grandmamma, and that is why you would have me keep it a secret from my
cousin; besides," she added, with a little hesitation, "your caution
comes too late, Lord Kew has seen the letter."
"You fool!" scr
eamed the old lady, "you were not so mad as to show it to
him?"
"I am sure the letter is true," Ethel said, rising up very haughtily. "It
is not by calling me bad names that your ladyship will disprove it. Keep
them, if you please, for my Aunt Julia; she is sick and weak, and can't
defend herself. I do not choose to bear abuse from you, or lectures from
Lord Kew. He happened to be here a short while since, when the letter
arrived. He had been good enough to come to preach me a sermon on his own
account. He to find fault with my actions!" cried Miss Ethel, quivering
with wrath and clenching the luckless paper in her hand. "He to accuse me
of levity, and to warn me against making improper acquaintances! He began
his lectures too soon. I am not a lawful slave yet, and prefer to remain
unmolested, at least as long as I am free."
"And you told Frank all this, Miss Newcome, and you showed him that
letter?" said the old lady.
"The letter was actually brought to me whilst his lordship was in the
midst of his sermon," Ethel replied. "I read it as he was making his
speech," she continued, gathering anger and scorn as she recalled the
circumstances of the interview. "He was perfectly polite in his language.
He did not call me a fool or use a single other bad name. He was good
enough to advise me and to make such virtuous pretty speeches, that if he
had been a bishop he could not have spoken better; and as I thought the
letter was a nice commentary on his lordship's sermon, I gave it to him.
I gave it to him," cried the young woman, "and much good may it do him. I
don't think my Lord Kew will preach to me again for some time."
"I don't think he will indeed," said Lady Kew, in a hard dry voice. "You
don't know what you may have done. Will you be pleased to ring the bell
and order my carriage? I congratulate you on having performed a most
charming morning's work."
Ethel made her grandmother a very stately curtsey. I pity Lady Julia's
condition when her mother reached home.
All who know Lord Kew may be pretty sure that in that unlucky interview
with Ethel, to which the young lady has alluded, he just said no single
word to her that was not kind, and just, and gentle. Considering the
relation between them, he thought himself justified in remonstrating with
her as to the conduct which she chose to pursue, and in warning her
against acquaintances of whom his own experience had taught him the
dangerous character. He knew Madame d'Ivry and her friends so well that
he would not have his wife-elect a member of their circle. He could not
tell Ethel what he knew of those women and their history. She chose not
to understand his hints--did not, very likely, comprehend them. She was
quite young, and the stories of such lives as theirs had never been told
before her. She was indignant at the surveillance which Lord Kew exerted
over her, and the authority which he began to assume. At another moment
and in a better frame of mind she would have been thankful for his care,
and very soon and ever after she did justice to his many admirable
qualities--his frankness, honesty, and sweet temper. Only her high spirit
was in perpetual revolt at this time against the bondage in which her
family strove to keep her. The very worldly advantages of the position
which they offered her served but to chafe her the more. Had her proposed
husband been a young prince with a crown to lay at her feet, she had been
yet more indignant very likely, and more rebellious. Had Kew's younger
brother been her suitor, or Kew in his place, she had been not unwilling
to follow her parents' wishes. Hence the revolt in which she was engaged
--the wayward freaks and outbreaks her haughty temper indulged in. No
doubt she saw the justice of Lord Kew's reproofs. That self-consciousness
was not likely to add to her good-humour. No doubt she was sorry for
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