Complete Novels of Maria Edgeworth

by Maria Edgeworth

  Mrs. Harcourt, who now foresaw the probability of Mad. de Rosier’s return to France, could not avoid feeling regret at the thoughts of parting with a friend to whom her whole family was sincerely attached. The plan of education which had been traced out remained yet unfinished, and she feared, she said, that Isabella and Matilda might feel the want of their accomplished preceptress. But these fears were the best omens for her future success: a sensible mother, in whom the desire to educate her family has once been excited, and who turns the energy of her mind to this interesting subject, seizes upon every useful idea, every practical principle, with avidity, and she may trust securely to her own persevering cares. Whatever a mother learns for the sake of her children, she never forgets.

  The rapid improvement of Mrs. Harcourt’s understanding since she had applied herself to literature, was her reward, and her excitement to fresh application. Isabella and Matilda were now of an age to be her companions, and her taste for domestic life was confirmed every day by the sweet experience of its pleasures.

  “You have taught me your value, and now you are going to leave me,” said she to Mad. de Rosier. “I quarrelled with the Duke de la Rochefoucault for his asserting, that in the misfortunes of our best friends there is always something that is not disagreeable to us; but I am afraid I must stand convicted of selfishness, for in the good fortune of my best friend there is something that I cannot feel to be perfectly agreeable.”

  MADEMOISELLE PANACHE. SECOND PART

  The first part is in the Parent’s Assistant

  The tendency of any particular mode of education is not always perceived, before it is too late to change the habits or the character of the pupil. To superficial observers, children of nearly the same age often seem much alike in manners and disposition, who, in a few years afterward, appear in every respect strikingly different. We have given our readers some idea of the manner in which Mrs. Temple educated her daughters, and some notion of the mode in which Lady Augusta was managed by Mlle. Panache; the difference between the characters of Helen and Lady Augusta, though visible even at the early age of twelve or thirteen to an intelligent mother, was scarcely noticed by common acquaintance, who contented themselves with the usual phrases, as equally applicable to both the young ladies. “Upon my word, Lady Augusta and Miss Helen Temple are both of them very fine girls, and very highly accomplished, and vastly well educated, as I understand. I really cannot tell which to prefer. Lady Augusta, to be sure, is rather the taller of the two, and her manners are certainly more womanly and fashioned than Miss Helen’s; but then, Miss Helen Temple has something of simplicity about her that some people think very engaging. For my part, I don’t pretend to judge — girls alter so; there’s no telling at twelve years old what they may turn out at sixteen.”

  From twelve to sixteen, Lady Augusta continued under the direction of Mlle. Panache; whilst her mother, content with her daughter’s progress in external accomplishments, paid no attention to the cultivation of her temper or her understanding. Lady S —— lived much in what is called the world; was fond of company, and fonder of cards, sentimentally anxious to be thought a good mother, but indolently willing to leave her daughter wholly to the care of a French governess, whose character she had never taken the trouble to investigate. Not that Lady S —— could be ignorant that, however well qualified to teach the true French pronunciation, she could not be a perfectly eligible companion for her daughter as she grew up: her ladyship intended to part with the governess when Lady Augusta was fifteen; but from day to day, and from year to year, this was put off: sometimes Lady S —— thought it a pity to dismiss mademoiselle, because “she was the best creature in the world;” sometimes she rested content with the idea, that six months more or less could not signify; till at length family reasons obliged her to postpone mademoiselle’s dismission: part of the money intended for the payment of the governess’s salary had been unfortunately lost by the mother at the card-table. Lady Augusta consequently continued under the auspices of Mlle. Panache till her ladyship was eighteen, and till her education was supposed to be entirely completed.

  In the meantime Mlle. Panache endeavoured, by all the vulgar arts of flattery, to ingratiate herself with her pupil, in hopes that from a governess she might become a companion. The summer months seemed unusually long to the impatient young lady, whose imagination daily anticipated the glories of her next winter’s campaign. Towards the end of July, however, a reinforcement of visitors came to her mother’s, and the present began to engage some attention, as well as the future. Amongst these visitors was Lord George —— , a young nobleman, near twenty-one, who was heir to a very considerable fortune. We mention his fortune first, because it was his first merit, even in his own opinion. Cold, silent, selfish, supercilious, and silly, there appeared nothing in him to engage the affections, or to strike the fancy of a fair lady; but Lady Augusta’s fancy was not fixed upon his lordship’s character or manners, and much that might have disgusted consequently escaped her observation. Her mother had not considered the matter very attentively; but she thought that this young nobleman might be no bad match for her Augusta, and she trusted that her daughter’s charms would make their due impression on his heart. Some weeks passed away in fashionable negligence of the lady on his part, and alternate pique and coquetry on hers, whilst, during these operations, her confidante and governess was too much occupied with her own manoeuvres to attend to those of her pupil. Lord George had with him upon this visit a Mr. Dashwood, who was engaged to accompany him upon his travels, and who had had the honour of being his lordship’s tutor. At the name of a tutor, let no one picture to himself a gloomy pedant; or yet a man whose knowledge, virtue, and benevolence, would command the respect, or win the affections, of youth. Mr. Dashwood could not be mistaken for a pedant, unless a coxcomb be a sort of pedant. Dashwood pretended neither to win affection nor to command respect; but he was, as his pupil emphatically swore, “the best fellow in the world.” Upon this best fellow in the world, Mlle. Panache fixed her sagacious hopes; she began to think that it would be infinitely better to be the wife of the gallant Mr. Dashwood, than the humble companion or the slighted governess of the capricious Lady Augusta. Having thus far opened the views and characters of these various personages, we shall now give our readers an opportunity of judging of them by their words and actions.

  “You go with us, my lord, to the archery-meeting this evening?” said Lady S —— , as she rose from breakfast — his lordship gave a negligent assent.

  “Ah!” exclaimed Mlle. Panache, turning eagerly to Dashwood, “have you seen de uniforme? — C’est charmant; and I have no small hand in it.”

  Dashwood paid he expected compliment to her taste. “Ah! non,” said she, “you are too good, too flattering; but you must tell me your judgment without flattery! Vous êtes homme de goût, though an Englishman — you see I have got no préjugés.” Dashwood bowed. “Allons!” said she, starting up with vast gaiety: “we have got no time to lose. I have de rubans to put to de bow; I must go and attend my Diane.”

  “Attend her Diane!” repeated Dashwood, the moment the door was shut, and he was left alone with Lord George. “Attend her Diane! a very proper attendant.” Lord George was wholly indifferent to propriety or impropriety upon this, as upon all other subjects. “What are we to do with ourselves, I wonder, this morning!” said he, with his customary yawn; and he walked towards the window. The labour of finding employment for his lordship always devolved upon his companion. “I thought, my lord,” said Dashwood, “you talked yesterday of going upon the water; the river is very smooth, and I hope we shall have a fine day.”

  “I hope so too; but over the hill yonder it looks confounded black, hey? Well, at any rate we may go down and make some of them get ready to go with us. I’ll take my black Tom — he’s a handy fellow.”

  “But if you take black Tom,” said Dashwood, laughing, “we must not expect to have the ladies of our party; for you know mademoiselle has an unconquerable an
tipaty, as she calls it, to a negro.”

  Lord George declared that, for this very reason, he would order black Tom down to the water-side, and that he should enjoy her affectation, or her terror, whichever it was, of all things. “I suppose,” said he, “she’ll scream as loud as Lady Augusta screamed at a frog the other day.”

  “I’ll lay you a wager I spoil your sport, my lord; I’ll lay you a guinea I get mademoiselle into the boat without a single scream,” said Dashwood.

  “Done!” said Lord George. “Two to one she screams.”

  “Done!” said Dashwood; and he hoped that, by proposing this bet, he had provided his pupil with an object for the whole morning. But Lord George was not so easily roused immediately after breakfast. “It looks terribly like rain,” said he, going back and forward irresolutely between the door and the window. “Do you think it will rain, hey?”

  “No, no; I’m sure it will not rain.”

  “I wouldn’t lay two to one of that, however: look at this great cloud that’s coming.”

  “Oh! it will blow over.”

  “I don’t know that,” said Lord George, shaking his head with great solemnity. “Which way is the wind?” opening the window. “Well, I believe it may hold up, hey?”

  “Certainly — I think so.”

  “Then I’ll call black Tom, hey? — though I think one grows tired of going upon the water,” muttered his lordship, as he left the room. “Couldn’t one find something better?”

  “Nothing better,” thought Dashwood, “but to hang yourself, my lord, which, I’ll be bound, you’ll do before you are forty, for want of something better. But that’s not my affair.”

  “Where’s mademoiselle?” cried Lady Augusta, entering hastily, with a bow and arrow in her hand: “I’ve lost my quiver: where’s mademoiselle?”

  “Upon my word I don’t know,” said Dashwood, assuming an air of interest.

  “You don’t know, Mr. Dashwood!” said Lady Augusta, sarcastically; “that’s rather extraordinary. I make it a rule, whenever I want mademoiselle, to ask where you are, and I never found myself disappointed before.”

  “I am sorry, madam, you should ever be disappointed,” said Dashwood, laughing. “Is this your ladyship’s own taste?” added he, taking the painted bow out of her hand. “It’s uncommonly pretty.”

  “Pretty or not, Lord George did not think it worth while to look at it last night. His lordship will go through the world mighty easily, don’t you think so, Mr. Dashwood?” Dashwood attempted an apology for his pupil, but in such a sort, as if he did not mean it to be accepted, and then, returning the bow to her ladyship’s hand, paused, sighed, and observed, that, upon the whole, it was happy for his lordship that he possessed so much nonchalance. “Persons of a different cast,” continued he, “cannot, as your ladyship justly observes, expect to pass through life so easily.” This speech was pronounced in a tone so different from Dashwood’s usual careless gaiety, that Lady Augusta could not help being struck with it; and by her vanity, it was interpreted precisely as the gentleman wished. Rank and fortune were her serious objects, but she had no objection to amusing herself with romance. The idea of seeing the gay, witty Mr. Dashwood metamorphosed, by the power of her charms, into a despairing, sighing swain, played upon her imagination, and she heard his first sigh with a look which plainly showed how well she understood its meaning.

  “Why now, was there ever any thing so provoking!” cried Lord George, swinging himself into the room.

  “What’s the matter, my lord?” said Dashwood.

  “Why, don’t you see, it’s raining as hard as it can rain?” replied his lordship, with the true pathos of a man whose happiness is dependent upon the weather. His scheme of going upon the water being now impracticable, he lounged about the room all the rest of the morning, supporting that miserable kind of existence, which idle gentlemen are doomed to support, they know not how, upon a rainy day. Neither Lady Augusta nor her mother, in calculating the advantages and disadvantages of an alliance with his lordship, ever once considered his habits of listless idleness as any objection in a companion for life.

  After dinner the day cleared up — the ladies were dressed in their archery uniform — the carriages came to the door, and Lord George was happy in the prospect of driving his new phaeton. Dashwood handed the ladies to their coach; for his lordship was too much engaged in confabulation with his groom, on the merits of his off-leader, to pay attention to any thing else upon earth.

  His phaeton was presently out of sight, for he gloried in driving as fast as possible; and, to reward his exertions, he had the satisfaction of hearing two strangers, as he passed them, say—”Ha! upon my word, those horses go well!” A postilion at a turnpike gate, moreover, exclaimed to a farmer, who stood with his mouth wide open—”There goes Lord George! he cuts as fine a figure on the road as e’er a man in England.” Such was the style of praise of which this young nobleman was silly enough to be vain.

  “I’ve been in these three quarters of an hour!” cried he, exultingly, as Lady S —— got out of her coach.

  “There has been no shooting yet though, I hope?” said Lady Augusta.

  “No, no, ma’am,” replied Dashwood; “but the ladies are all upon the green — a crowd of fair competitors; but I’d bet a thousand pounds upon your ladyship’s arrows. Make way there — make way,” cried the man of gallantry, in an imperious tone, to some poor people, who crowded round the carriage; and talking and laughing loud, he pushed forward, making as much bustle in seating the ladies as they could have wished. Being seated, they began to bow and nod to their acquaintance. “There’s Mrs. Temple and her daughters,” said Lady S —— .

  “Where, ma’am?” said Lady Augusta: “I’m sure I did not expect to meet them here. Where are they?”

  “Just opposite to us. Pray, Mr. Dashwood, who is that gentleman in brown, who is talking to Miss Helen Temple?” “Upon my word I don’t know, madam; he bowed just now to Lord George.”

  “Did he?” said Lady Augusta. “I wonder who he is!”

  Lord George soon satisfied her curiosity, for, coming up to them, he said negligently, “Dashwood, there’s young Mountague yonder.”

  “Ha! is that young Mountague? Well, is his father dead? What has he done with that old quiz?”

  “Ask him yourself,” said Lord George sullenly: “I asked him just now, and he looked as black as November.”

  “He was so fond of his father — it is quite a bore,” said Dashwood. “I think he’ll be a quiz himself in due time.”

  “No,” said Lord George; “he knows better than that too in some things. He has a monstrous fine horse with him here; and that’s a good pretty girl that he’s going to marry.”

  “Is he going to be married to Miss Helen Temple?” said Lady S —— . “Who is he, pray? I hope a suitable match.”

  “That I can’t tell, for I don’t know what she has,” replied Lord George. “But Mountague can afford to do as he pleases — very good family — fine fortune.”

  “Yes; old quiz made an excellent nurse to his estate,” observed Dashwood; “he owes him some gratitude for that.”

  “Is not he very young to settle in the world?” said Lady S —— .

  “Young — yes — only a year older than I am,” said Lord George; “but I knew he’d never be quiet till he got himself noosed.”

  “I suppose he’ll be at the ball to-night,” said Lady Augusta, “and then we shall see something of him, perhaps. It’s an age since we’ve seen the Miss Temples any where. I wonder whether there’s any thing more than report, my lord, in this conquest of Miss Helen Temple? Had you the thing from good authority?”

  “Authority!” said Lord George; “I don’t recollect my authority, faith! — somebody said so to me, I think. It’s nothing to me, at any rate.” Lady Augusta’s curiosity, however, was not quite so easily satisfied as his lordship’s; she was resolved to study Mr. Mountague thoroughly at the ball; and her habitual disposition to coquetry, joined
to a dislike of poor Helen, which originated whilst they were children, made her form a strong desire to rival Helen in the admiration of this young gentleman of—”very good family and fine fortune.” Her ladyship was just falling into a reverie upon this subject, when she was summoned to join the archeresses.

  The prize was a silver arrow. The ladies were impatient to begin — the green was cleared. Some of the spectators took their seats on benches under the trees, whilst a party of gentlemen stood by, to supply the ladies with arrows. Three ladies shot, but widely from the mark; a fourth tried her skill, but no applause ensued; a fifth came forward, a striking figure, elegantly dressed, who, after a prelude of very becoming diffidence, drew her bow, and took aim in the most graceful attitude imaginable.

  “Who is that beautiful creature?” exclaimed Mr. Mountague, with enthusiasm; and as the arrow flew from the bow, he started up, wishing it success.

  “The nearest, by six inches, that has been shot yet,” cried Dashwood. “Here, sir! here!” said he to Mr. Mountague, who went up to examine the target, “this is Lady Augusta S — —’s arrow, within the second circle, almost put out the bull’s eye!” The clamour of applause at length subsiding, several other arrows were shot, but none came near to Lady Augusta’s, and the prize was unanimously acknowledged to be hers.

  The silver arrow was placed on high over the mark, and several gentlemen tried to reach it in vain: Mr. Mountague sprung from the ground with great activity, brought down the arrow, and presented it, with an air of gallantry, to the fair victor.

  “My dear Helen,” said Emma to her sister, in a low voice, “you are not well.”

  “I!” replied Helen, turning quickly: “why! can you think me so mean as to—”

  “Hush, hush! you don’t consider how loud you are speaking.”

  “Am I?” said Helen, alarmed, and lowering her tone; “but then, why did you say I was not well?”

  “Because you looked so pale.”