Arabella beguiled an hour or so in laughing over these pictorial epigrams, in running her dainty fingers over the keys of the pianoforte, and then in looking at the backs of sundry volumes with as scrutinizing a glance as if she really wanted to ascertain their contents.
Having performed this ceremony, which she very cleverly felt to be appropriate to the place she was in, she suddenly exclaimed, “Where is your dear father, Gertrude?”
“In the breakfast-parlour, I believe,” replied Gertrude. “The newspaper is always taken to him there.”
“Then it is there I will go to look for him,” returned the beauty. “Perhaps he would like to play a game of backgammon? I should be delighted to play with him!”
“Shall I take you to him?” returned the well-pleased Gertrude, whose rapid thoughts immediately suggested the possibility of reading something aloud to Lucy, instead of passing the whole morning in being jocular.
Miss Morrison immediately passed her arm under that of her young hostess, in token of assent; and in this manner they walked together to the breakfast-room, where they found the baron installed in his own particular chair, and with the newspaper on a small table before him; but it was very decidedly evident that his propensities at that moment were more in favour of dozing than reading.
After a most gracious salutation of welcome on the part of the old gentleman, which was quite affectionately received on the part of the young lady, the amiable backgammon proposal was made, and accepted with the best possible grace on both sides. The board was sought, found, and arranged by Gertrude, and then the stately Baron von Schwanberg and the lovely Arabella Morrison were left tête-à-tête.
The lady, certainly, did not appear to know much about the game — but this was of no great consequence; she blundered, and laughed, and looked beautiful; while he corrected, and smiled, and looked benignant.
But when this had gone on for one game, and the baron was arranging the board for another, Arabella suddenly extended her hand, and laying it gently on his, to stop his proceedings, she said, with her very sweetest smile, and in her very sweetest accents, “My dear, dear Baron von Schwanberg, tell me candidly — have I deceived myself in thinking that you feel kindly towards me? If I have, tell me so candidly; but if I have not, I will open my whole heart to you, and ask your opinion, and perhaps your assistance, in an affair upon which the happiness of my future life entirely depends.”
The old gentleman answered, as it is to be hoped the majority of old gentlemen would do, under similar circumstances, that there was nothing which would give him greater pleasure than the being able to promote her happiness in any way.
“I was sure that I could not be deceived in you, my dear Sir,” returned the beautiful young lady, with her eyes imploringly fixed on his; “I was sure that in addressing myself to you, I should find as much kindness of heart as nobleness of feeling. But before I proceed to the matter in which I am bold enough to hope for your assistance, it is necessary that I should explain to you what my situation in life really is. I am not, like your charming daughter, my dear Sir — I am not nobly born.”
This was a fact which the baron was already perfectly aware; but as his very sincere admiration of her did not in any degree rest upon the antiquity of her race, or even upon the rank of her parentage, he was able to assure her, with the most perfect sincerity, that she need feel no scruple in avowing this, for that the really affectionate feelings with which he was disposed to regard her were produced by her own personal merits alone, and could be in no way affected by her pedigree.
She seized one of his hands in both hers, and having pressed it affectionately, ventured to impress a kiss upon it.
“What is there, my dear young lady, that I can do to assist you?” said the gentlemanlike old man, feeling a little embarrassed.
“I am older than my sister, my dear baron, and yet, as you are aware, I am still unmarried,” said Arabella, with a gentle smile.
“Yes, my beautiful Miss Arabella, I am aware of it,” returned the baron; “and as you have mentioned the subject yourself, I will confess to you that it has been a matter of great surprise to me.”
“When you have known me longer, my dear Sir, your surprise will be less; for you will find that it is not in my nature to form hasty attachments, or to be very easily pleased. Quite the contrary, indeed. Few young ladies, I believe, have received as many offers of marriage as I have done. But I think that one reason why I am still single, is that I am aware that my fortune is so unusually large that there may be some danger of my falling into the hands of a mere fortune-hunter, which I assure you, my dear baron, is no small class in our country.”
“Indeed, I have heard so, my dear,” replied the baron; “and a young lady cannot be too much commended for being on her guard against so contemptible and unprincipled a set of wretches.”
“Indeed, I have always said so; and I am sure I would a great deal rather die without being married at all, than bestow my wealth upon any such person,” returned Arabella, with a look of consummate discretion.
“But yet, my dear Sir,” she continued, “now that my younger sister is married, I begin to feel that I want a home of my own; and though nothing can be more kind and obliging than Count Adolphe, I „ cannot help feeling that there is something quite ridiculous in a young lady possessed of a fortune of eighty thousand pounds sterling, haying no home of her own.”
“You are certainly right, my dear,” replied the baron, after a pause of some considerable duration, during which his mind was occupied by an attempt to calculate what the yearly amount of income produced by eighty thousand pounds sterling might be; but this was beyond him. Had he asked his fair companion to solve, the problem, she would have done it as correctly as if, instead of being a banker’s daughter, she had been a banker herself.
“You are certainly right,” he repeated, after this pause; “and anything which it is in my power to do towards making so desirable an arrangement, you may most freely command.”
Arabella thanked him by bestowing another gentle kiss upon his noble hand, not aware that what she intended as a mark of tender and familiar affection, he would interpret as a symptom of profound respect, arising from the imposing difference between her pedigree and his own.
Of such a misconstruction, however, she had not the least suspicion, and had even thrown somewhat of condescension into the expression of her charming eyes, to prevent the poor dear old gentleman from thinking he was a bore.
But this little bit of bye-play being performed, she determined to trifle no longer, but to get over the ground, which, even in her eyes, had some awkward points, as rapidly as possible.
“After what I have already said,” she resumed, “you will probably not be greatly surprised to hear that my choice is already made.”
Had not the young lady kissed his hand after the manner and fashion of his domestic servants, both male and female, the Baron von Schwanberg might at this moment have experienced a painful feeling of alarm, lest his own name should be pronounced by the fair islander’s rosy lips; her beautiful and very graceful respect for him had, however, been too decidedly demonstrated to justify such fear, and he, therefore, ventured to encourage her by saying, “Go on, my dear! Be very sure that you will find an indulgent listener in me.”
Thus encouraged, the beautiful Arabella clasped her hands together, and then raising them as if to hide her blushing face, she murmured the name of “Rupert Odenthal!”
For a few seconds the baron sat silently looking at her; and she began to feel that he was too much shocked by the inequality of rank between herself and the Apollo of his library, to listen to her favourably, notwithstanding all the coaxing she had bestowed upon him.
But this painful state of mind did not last long. A very few minutes had sufficed to suggest to the baron the cause and source of the fascination which had made a beautiful young lady possessed of eighty thousand pounds sterling, fall in love with his librarian.
It was not very
often that the intellectual workings of the baron’s brain were of so active a nature as to break forth in soliloquy, but such was the case on the present occasion, for though his eyes were fixed on his fair companion as he spoke, it was with himself he held parley, and not with her.
“Most extraordinary! Most extraordinary indeed!” he exclaimed. “Gertrude will comprehend the whole affair in a moment!” Arabella was a good deal bewildered, and a good deal disturbed, by this allusion to the young baroness.
Why should she be able to comprehend the whole affair more than anyone else? Though they were apparently on very friendly terms together, she very particularly disliked Gertrude; and she was, perhaps, the very last person in the world to whom she would have wished any reference to be made on the subject of her own attachment.
Under the influence of these feelings, she exclaimed, “Oh goodness, Sir! Do not say anything about it to your daughter.”
The French of Arabella was sufficiently intelligible, though her accent was not very pure; and the baron was at no loss to perceive that the idea of letting Gertrude into her confidence was by no means agreeable to her.
“You mistake me, my dear young lady!” said he, very graciously. “Of course, I should never think of communicating to anybody, what you have confidentially confided to me. My allusion to my daughter, had reference to a totally different subject. Yet, nevertheless, it is a subject which must naturally be interesting to you, and I will explain the matter to you as shortly as I can, my dear young lady. This fortunate and very excellent young man, whom your admirable judgment has led you to distinguish in so generous and flattering a manner, was really little more than a peasant boy, before accident introduced him to my notice, in a manner which induced me to permit his introduction into my family in the capacity in which you now see him. But it was not to that introduction, but to its effect upon him, to which I alluded, when I pronounced the word extraordinary. I really find nothing, in all my experience, more extraordinary than the effect which his daily association with me has had upon him, and, indeed, upon his excellent mother likewise. This effect was first made evident to me, Miss Arabella, by the sort of notice which was taken of them both, by all the most distinguished members of the society to which they were introduced, when I attached them to me as a part of my suite. At first, the tone of equality upon which they appeared to be received, surprised me a good deal; but after my daughter, the Baroness Gertrude, and myself took the trouble of examining the real state of the case, it soon became very clearly evident to us both, that the station which it has pleased Providence I should hold in society, is one of sufficient dignity and importance to enable me to elevate those whom I permit to associate with me, and that I am, in like manner as my sovereign is in a still higher degree, the source of honour to those around me.”
Having said this in the most meek and modest tone possible, and with the aspect of humble piety with which pre-eminently religious people express their submission to Providence when specially exerted for themselves, the baron fixed his eyes upon the ground, and remained silent, as if in the holy recueillement of thanksgiving.
During this picturesque interval, Arabella remained silent also, for she was puzzled.
Had the baron hinted that he paid to Rupert and his mother such an annual income as enabled them to live “like gentlefolks” she would have understood him considerably better, and have thought that the statement accounted very satisfactorily for the position which they appeared to hold; but having given a moment, in vain, to the finding out what he meant, she gave up the attempt, and the next words she uttered were, “Well, then, my dear Sir, you will he kind enough, will you, as you have been so much like a father to the young man, to continue in the same friendly way with him still, and make him understand, in the manner that these sort of things are managed here, that in addition to all the other favours you have conferred upon him, you have found him a wife with a fortune of eighty thousand pounds sterling?”
In justice to the intellect of Miss Arabella Morrison, it must be confessed that no young lady upon her travels could have turned the information she acquired respecting men and manners more practically to account, than she did upon the present occasion. Having been very gravely assured that it was the continental fashion for the friends of the parties concerned to arrange all marriages, without any apparent interference whatever on the part of the lady (all love-making between people of fashion being performed afterwards), she certainly showed very considerable cleverness in having recourse to the baron, whose interference, she thought, would give both dignity and authority to the proposal.
As to the result of the negotiation, no thought in the slightest degree approaching to doubt annoyed her for a moment. She had been so long accustomed to hear herself called an angel, that she very sincerely took it for granted that she must be very like one; and when it is remembered that, in addition to this, she was cheered by the ever-present recollection of her eighty thousand pounds sterling, it may easily be believed that she contemplated the happiest termination to this well-arranged affair.
The shy reserve which she could not but perceive in the manner of Rupert, she attributed wholly to his humility; and she very delicately stated this to her venerable confidant, adding, with a bewitching smile, that she trusted to his influence for the remedy to this.
“And your trust shall not be in vain, my dear Miss Arabella,” he replied. “We should both of us have reason to be much less satisfied with the young man than we are at present, if his conduct had been at all different. When I have spoken to him in the manner which I am now authorised to do, you may be very sure my dear, that this painful reserve will vanish.”
“Yes, I hope it will!” she replied, with a degree of naïveté, which must have produced a smile on any face less sublimely solemn than that of the Baron von Schwanberg.
As it was, however, the important interview proceeded without any such indecorum, and before they parted, it was settled between them, that the young man should receive an intimation of the happiness which awaited him on the following day. “And after this intimation has reached him,” added the old gentleman, with a very gallant bow, “my office will be over, and the happy young man, as we may easily believe, will become his own advocate.”
“Yes, I hope so!” again murmured Arabella; and then the backgammon-board was restored to its place, and the beautiful Arabella returned to the library.
CHAPTER XLII.
ON the following morning the baron condescendingly laid his hand on the arm of his secretary, as he was about to leave the breakfast-room. “I have something to communicate to you, my young friend,” said he, in his most gracious manner, “so you must leave my books to take care of themselves for a little while. Reseat yourself, Rupert, reseat yourself.”
Rupert obeyed. “I think you cannot doubt, my good Rupert,” resumed the stately old man, “that I take a very great, I may say a very affectionate interest in everything which concerns you.” —
Rupert bowed with an air of deep respect, and replied, “Indeed, Sir, I believe it.”
“Then you will believe also, my good friend, that it is with great pleasure I announce to you a piece of good fortune which almost any young man might welcome with joy, and which you, my good Rupert, cannot fail to receive not only with joy, but with the deepest gratitude. I am commissioned by an individual, against whose wishes in the business there can be no appeal, to inform you, that the fair hand of Miss Arabella Morrison, together with her vast fortune of eighty thousand pounds sterling, are blessings not beyond your reach, however much they may have been hitherto beyond your hopes.”
The complexion of Rupert became crimson, which caused the baron to smile, and nod approvingly.
“You are overpowered, my good lad! and it is very natural that you should he so. But you must recover yourself. I shall not have executed the commission with which I have been intrusted in a satisfactory manner, if I can only report as the result of it, that you coloured violently, and looke
d very greatly embarrassed.”
This was said with a smile, and, considering the solemn dignity of the features which produced it, a gay smile. But no answering smile greeted him. Poor Rupert was not only embarrassed, but deeply pained. He fancied that he understood the whole business completely, and that the extremely unwelcome intimation be had now received had come from his friend Adolphe.
The fact that the friends had never discussed together either the good or the bad qualities of the lady, rendered this less improbable than it would have been, if either of them had freely expressed his opinion of her to the other.
Her beauty and her wealth were obvious facts and obvious advantages; and even in the first very painful moment of embarrassment, and almost of dismay, occasioned by the baron’s communication, Rupert felt a movement of affection towards his strongly-suspected friend, as he remembered that it was probably the wish of being brought into closer connection with him, which had led to this deplorable blunder.
His reply, however, being evidently waited for with impatience, must be given immediately; and making a strong effort to recover the composure which had been so painfully shaken, he said, “I trust, my lord baron, that the sincerity with which it is my duty to answer this proposal will not displease you; but not even the fear of doing so must deter me from saying at once, and most decidedly, that the lady in question has not inspired me with any feeling which could lead me to make her my wife.”
If the unlucky Rupert had studied for a month in order to find the mode of expression likely to be most offensive to his patron, he could not have produced a more vehement feeling of indignation.
The old gentleman was for a moment absolutely breathless; but no sooner had he recovered the power of speech, than he poured forth an absolute torrent of mingled contempt and anger.
The situation of the young man was at once too ridiculous and too painful to be endured; and accustomed, as for many years he had been, to the pompous assumption of superiority which formed the staple commodity of all the baron’s harangues, he was too much chafed and vexed at that moment to endure it; and exclaiming, in an accent of more suffering than ceremony, “Excuse me, Sir, excuse me!” he left the room.
Collected Works of Frances Trollope Page 464
