Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2010 with funding from Duke University Libraries http://www.archive.org/details/refusal01wesl THE REFUSAL. BY MRS. WEST, AUTHOR OF THE " TALE OF THE TIMES, " INFIDEL FA- THER," " gossip's story," &c. O, momentary grace of mortal man, "Which we more hunt for than the grace of God! Who builds his hope in air of your fair looks, Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast, Heady with every nod to tumble down Into the fatal bowels of the deep. SHAKESPEARE, THREE VOLUMES IN TWO. VOL. I. PHILADELPHIA : PRINTED FOR M. CAREY, NO. 122, MARKET-STREET. SOLD IX PHILADELPHIA BY BIRCH & SMALL, BRADFORD & IN- SKEEP, EDWARD EARLE, J. & A. Y. HUMPHREY'S, W. W. WOOD- WARD ; IN NEW-YORK, BY INSKEEP & BRADFORD, M. & W. WARD AND D. LONGWORTH; IN BALTIMORE, BY HUNTER & ROBINSON, WARNER & HANNA, AND JOHN KINGSTON. A. SMALL, PRINTER. 1810. CONTENTS OF VOLUME t Introduction by the editor. A tribute from par- tial friendship to departed excellence, without any base mixture of envy or vanity, containing the life and opinions of the late Mrs. Pruden- tia Homespun ... 7 Introduction by Mrs. Prudentia Homespun, a fragment - - - 25 CHAPTER I. Portrait of a military humourist, earlv soured by neglect, and rendered miserable bv prosperity 33 CHAPTER II. • The heroine liberated from a convent to be confi- ned in a castle, where having enchanted her keeper, she prepared for herself imaginary fet- ters - - - - - -.- 43 CHAPTER III. The mountain is labour - - - - 57 CHAPTER IV. The mountain delivered of a Phcenix carved in marble ...... ^q CHAPTER V. Cupid is introduced, who as usual is very knavish and troublesome 89 CHAPTER VI. More wonders ; an old maid loses an opportunity of discovering a love secret for want of curiosi- ty 105 CHAPTER VII. Presents all in the wrong, with a peep behind the curtain - - - - - _ 113 CHAPTER VIII. An instance of Mrs. Prudentia's bad management. Hymen pops into the first volume with very lit- tle pre-arrangerhent, and thus the narrative cea- ses to be interesting - 12F IV CONTENTS. Introductory chapter ... - 144 The right of literary dozing asserted. Mrs. Pru- dentia claims the privilege and exemplifies its advantages - - - - - 145 CHAPTER IX. The polite conversation of sensible women. The roses in Hymen's Paradise are not without thorns - - - - - - 151 CHAPTER X. Mrs. Prudentia sports with the health and repose of her neighbours by telling half a secret 163 CHAPTER XI. The prospect of unravelling the clue of mystery ends in disappointment, and the business seems more perplexed than ever - - - 172 CHAPTER XII. A coterie of fashion enjoying their favourite re- gale, to which is added the portrait of a most valuable husband - - - - 182 CHAPTER XIII. A menagerie of singular animals, patriots, states- men, fine gentlemen, and cicisbeos - 195 CHAPTER XIV. A dramatic critique for the edification of a cox- comb ------ 207 CHAPTER XV. A phcenix, but not from Araby the blest, collects the most precious balms, and fires his funeral pile - - 223 CHAPTER XVI. The malice of a disappointed coxcomb. A caution to young mothers - 232 THE REFUSAL. INTRODUCTION BY THE EDITOR I am afraid of this gunpowder Percy, though he be dead. What if he should only counterfeit ? SHAKESPEARE. AT is with the deepest concern that I announce to the public the demise of that inimitable author, Mrs. Pru- dentia Homespun. Her unrivalled talents and unim- peached celebrity render eulogium impertinent ; other- wise I should observe, that she was matchless in taste, unique in style, and absolutely transcendant in every department of literature. Yet, by a singular felicity of temperament, this lofty eminence in the temple of fame did not in the least injure the engaging simplicity of her character ; and, by a rare concurrence of events, she was courted and respected by her superiors, ad- mired and loved by her equals, and revered by her in- feriors. Slander never tainted her fame, and envy never haunted her steps. So great was her literary reputation, so enchanting were her manners, that I am convinced the highest connections, and the most lucra- tive places and pensions, courted her acceptance ; nay, (though she never told me so) that she absolutely refus- ed many valuable presents. I can only attribute it to some almost blameable peculiarity in her disposition, that she rejected these splendid allurements, and with more than Spartan rigidity spent her life in parsimoni- ous obscurity. I confess, these are conjectures of my j own, but I can no otherwise account for such an author y VOL. I. B 8 THE REFUSAL. remaining in a first floor at D anbury, during an age so distinguished lor its liberal patronage of science and intellect. Probably this mystery will be develop- ed in the next volume of" Public Characters," as that inimitable work is constantly enriched with a profusion of anecdotes, and a disclosure of motives, which ab- solutely astonish the most intimate associates of the parties of whom they are related. To return to my lamented, incomparable friend, I was going to add, but recollecting that such a term might be twisted into an insinuation that I meant to affect reciprocity of character, and knowing that not only humility but also self-abasement is strictly requir- ed in every new adventurer on the ocean of literature, I here proclaim, with blushing consciousness, my to- tal unworthiness of that inestimable title. No: what- ever hereafter I may seem to insinuate, and though for more than twenty years we met every morning to moralize on the increasing faults of our acquaintance ; though we prolonged the painful theme till we frequent- ly spoiled our respective mutton steaks, and only part- ed to meet again in the evening to refresh our harassed spirits with tea, suspend 'our schemes of reformation till the next day, and adjourn to cribbage ; though in talking of human depravity we have grown breathless with virtuous rage, and too indignant to hear each others remarks ; though I was the depository of her secrets, the patient and wakeful hearer of all her ma- nuscripts, the nurse of her geraniums and the protec- tress of her cat during her summer excursions ; — though she respected my opinion next to Betty's, and allowed me to be admitted before she had put on her fly cap in the morning ; — notwithstanding all these proofs of esteem, still I will ever say, (as I know I must) that the only weakness I ever discovered in the illustrious Prudeutia was her kind, partial affection to so stupid, so ignorant, so* unworthy a character, as the poor Eleanor Singleton, whose obscure name has been immortalized by being inserted in the works destined to last M till lime and language arc no more." THE REFUSAL. 9 When my readers and myself have hreathed after this formidable period, I must proceed to remark, that these were not the only indubitable proofs of her at- tach ment. My late friend, (gentle reader, after the above abjuration I am authorised to use an epithet so soothing to my feelings) has appointed me her execu- tor and residuary legatee. A mine of wealth is thus come into my possession, consisting, not of goods and apparel, houses and lands, plate and jewels, but of two scrutoires and five trunks, filled with the unpublished offspring of her prolific pen; all of which, with the unwearied perseverance of a laborious editor, I here- by promise to present successively to an admiring and generous public, being fully convinced that my friend could have consigned any of her lucubrations to oblivion, only through excessive modesty, or culpable inertness ; foibles which it is my duty to counteract. She indeed fell into the common error ol great minds, that of think- ing it more improving and gratifying to study what was excellent, than to devour what was new ; and she used to talk with great pathos of living authors bury- ing themselves under their own works, and of dead ones being exposed by their injudicious friends, in a pillory made of the manuscripts they had themselves devoted to the flames. To justify myself for the steps I mean to take, I shall premise that the conduct of people often differs widely from their avowed opinions. If Mrs. Pruden- tia really dreaded this posthumous assassination, (as she called -it) why did not she destroy every paper in her possession, that being the only certain method of crippling the industry of her editor and bookseller, and disappointing the public, who read nothing with such eagerness as those last words and unfinished frag- ments, which steal into the world under the interdict of their author. Her careful preservation of these multitudinous writings, convinces me she had a high opinion of their intrinsic worth, and as to their being preserved merely for the perus*al of private friends, I confess"' this appears a very fastidious discrimination, 10 THE REFUSAL. which either conveys a bad compliment to our intimates, by appropriating our stupidity to their sole use, or to the work', by withholding our most delectable dainties from their participation. Being myself of a most frank and communicative disposition, I am resolved to draw these " gems of purest ray serene" from the dark mine where their lustre has been long concealed; and (to corne to the point at once) my liberal-minded gen- tlemen of the trade,* who are disposed to purchase se- cret correspondence, biographical memoirs, sketches oi character, ethical fragments, amusing anecdotes, poet- ical effusions, political guesses, circumstantial details on mysterious subjects, elucidations of popular topics, &.C. &c. &c. never intended for publication, and war- ranted originals by a celebrated writer lately deceased, are desired to send their proposals, postpaid, to Mrs. Eleanor Singleton, at Mrs. Pattypan's opposite the Blue Lion, Danbury. I scorn to puff my goods, hut it is hoped that a delicate attention will be paid to the reputation of the dead, and to the feelings of the living, as, for reasons that must be obvious, I have de- termined that the best bidder shall be the purchaser. Certain of receiving numerous applications, and be- ing also well aware of that vile spirit of piracy which prompts surreptitious imitations of the efforts of geni- us, from pomade divine, and invisible petticoats, to gas lights and metallic tractors, I shall be cautious of making such discoveries of my testamentary wealth as may excite fraudulent plagiarism ; I shall only, there- fore, inform the world, that in her posthumous compo- sitions, my friend has fallen into the most popular course of study, I mean a fictitious narrative, adapted to real and well known characters. In these delecta- ble tales, truth and falsehood, calumny and flattery, are blended with such enchanting confusion, that all the world is at once enjoying the exquisite delight of finding out secrets, and hearing scandal, without under- going the fatigue of morning visits, or evening dissi- pation. The equivocation of ambiguous delineation is so charmingly preserved in these compositions, that THE REFUSAL. 11 not only are reputations murdered with impunity, but all parties, though looking at the same magic lan- thorn, see the caricature of their neighbours, without anv one of them perceiving his own. Mrs. Overdo and Lady Fillagree laughed themselves into hysterics at the description of a rout in " A peep behind the Curtain," which each of them with well bred defer- ence assigned to the petit souper of her rival, and Miss Imoinda Screechwell employed four mornings in copy- ing the character of Sir Harmony Scaramouch, from " Views of Fashion," under the persuasion that it was designed for her sister's lover, while unhappily all her acquaintance discovered it to be the invulnerable di- lettante, at whose heart she had long warbled in vain. Never having had a taste for charades and riddles, I fe- licitate the public on the enigmatical novelties thus hap- pily brought in to supply the worn-out amusements of 6uv grandmothers, which at best could only be called innocent to counterbalance their numerous disadvan- tages in putting wit and ingenuity on the stretch. Eve- ry bodv cannot command those qualities, and there- fore somebody's self-love must be wounded by requir- ing it of them. But the whole circle sits down on equal terms at the modern puzzle, nothing being neces- sarv but a knowledge of the world and a disposition to communicate that knowledge, talents which in the present day all possess excepting just those people whom nobody knows. And as to the comparative in- nocence of the occupation, why really, though the au- thors do contrive to catch one leading feature, or one known anecdote of some demirep or black legs of high ton, to do them justice, they generally distort the former so grossly, and add so much of fiction to the latter, that the real parties are no more delineated than Sir Roger de Coverley was by the sign of his friend the inn-keeper. If slander therefore be fiction it is not slander ; and this decision rests upon the same ground as the dictum, that it is truth which constitutes a libel. As then we can only injure our neighbours' i reputation by describing them as they are, authors may // b 2 jo THE REFUSAL. go on making out their winter dainties for summer con- sumption without fear of injuring the minds of their readers, or impugning their own safety. My late friend, (who, amid -a thousand excellent qualities, was unhappily a little too morose and un- complying in her morality) was for a long time decid- edly averse to this mode of diffusing information and amusement, affirming that these mixtures of fiction and truth tended to check the restraining impulses of laudable shame, and to create the demons they des- cribed. .But I suspect that a correspondence with her bookseller, which she never permitted me to see, caus- ed an alteration in her opinions ; and I think they un- derwent a complete revolution about the time of the last modification of the income tax, when the humbler part of the middle classes were so providently remov- ed from all temptation to excess by having every indul- gence placed beyond their reach. I think it was just then that my friend changed her bold style of general declamation to petty detail, and preferred aiming at the vicious with a rifle- barrelled gun to opening a bat- tery against vice, llov/ rich a treat of innuendo and surmise may the public expect when I inform them, that she has since that time collected upwards of twelve hundred anecdotes of public characters with no character at all, gentlemen void of gentility, and ladies of repute notoriously disreputable ? But won- derful as my friend's industry was, she had supple- mentary aids which few others could boast. Besides an extensive correspondence with the most penetrating and active of our sisterhood in every county-town in the kingdom, she was in treaty with the box-keepers at all the theatres, with the most fashionable milliners and tovmen, and the mistresses of lodging-houses at aU public places. Nay, so well known was her thirst for information, that she often received hints from peo- ple in very inferior situations, whom the high orders (from perhaps rather indiscreet generosity) suppose to be deficient in the faculties of seeing and hearing, and whom therefore they allow to witness such venal fail- CHE REFUSAL. J 3 ings as they would shudder to entrust to their equals. However magnanimous this conduct may appear, I must maintain that it is imprudent; and I would cau- tion the beautiful Lady Tremor not to suffer her wait- ing-maid to carry the Colonel's billets-doux, lest by some unlucky mistake they should slide into the hand of her Lord. This I know, Mrs. Prudentia received intelligence of the Duchess of P.'s assignation with Lord X. Y. from the hackney chairman who carried her from, the Argvle rooms, and Mr. Lurcher's butler sent a letter to Banbury, certifying the name of the pawnbroker where the family plate was deposited, two davs before the Morning Post announced what is term- ed his bigwig dinner to the ministry. I own it is a shameful infraction of aristocratical privileges, that confidential servants are not prohibited from making observations and drawing conclusions ; but as these things will happen in the best regulated families, I can only advise masters and mistresses not to do anything which they are ashamed to have spoken of, and to keep out of such company as they do not choose to be known to frequent. Such a restriction on our appe- tites and tempers, though experience proves it to be possible in public, must, I confess, be very difficult in private, aud tend so much to substitute the austere sub- stantial virtue, sincerity, for the easy and agreeable one plausibility, that I cannot expect my advice should be adopted. Besides, I admit that a prime source of private emolument and public amusement would thus be cut off' j for how could private history be divulged if valets, Abigails, and every species of mercenary dependants and retainers in great families, had nothing outre to communicate ? What a want of polish should we soon discover in the humbler classes of life ? Miss Brigetina Trollop, at the green grocer's, would never know that Misses of quality laugh and stare to get lovers, nor could Farmer Breakclod's young Hopeful be aware that when he was stubborn and prophane he shewed the spirit of a gentleman. Perquisites, too, would be cut off, with the long et caetera of secret ser- 14 THE REFUSAL. vice and hush money ; and people who see a vast deal of genteel life would be compelled to live on their wages, which are seldom more than double the amount that supports a Welch clergyman. Indeed, so many inconveniences attend my projects that, like other schemes of reform, I must lay them on the shelf till better times. But I have wandered from the subject for which I assumed my pen, and must now hasten to discharge my duty by giving some account of the life and opini- ons of the ever to be lamented Mrs. Prudentia. Of the early part of her history I can say but little : pro- bably she had some cogent reasons for the inviolable taciturnity she preserved on that head. Nor did she ever entertain us with family anecdotes, which led ma- ny to suppose Homespun was only an assumed name ; especially as she was never visited by any whom she owned as relations. She had reached fifty when she settled at Danbury, where she avowed her determined predilection for the single state by taking her degree as Mrs. and adopting a large calash, black cardinal, and walkingstick, which, her majestic size being consider- ed, gave her rather a formidable appearance. Doubt- less those superior attractions, added to the prevailing taste for antiquities, occasioned many painful conflicts between the solicitations of her lovers and her deter- mination in favour of her celibacy ; but she was too delicate to talk of the offers she received : and though (urged by the tenderest friendship) I once questioned Betty on the subject of her lady's love-letters, the faithful creature affected ignorance. I cannot but recom- mend this conduct to all ladies of Mrs. Prudentia's standing ; for though I know (observe I do not positively say by experience) that one may make conquests when passed the grand climacteric, it is humane to conceal the agonies, and hide the mortifications of our rejected lovers : besides, girls are sometimes so rude as to laugh " when toothless beauty talks of tearing hearts." Our intimacy began about this period, one warm day when we were walking on the south side of Mr. THE REFUSAL. 15 Alsop's shrubberv. I was many years Mrs. Pruden- tials junior, and for face and nymph-like figure — but I will draw no comparisons, my friend had the beau- ties of the mind. A rheumatic attack had given a temporary debility to my appearance, of which the good lady took advantage, and beginning with an ob- liqne sarcasm on my pink bonnet and gauze theresa, somehow in addressing me imperceptibly glided from Miss Nelly to Mrs. Eleanor. I felt a little piqued, but an invitation to attack Captain Target at Tradrille that afternoon at her lodgings restored my native sua- vity ; and as he joined in laughing at the infantine airs and rainbow dresses of some aged girls of our ac- quaintance, and swore he would never marry a woman younger than himself, I discarded pink and gauze, and became Mrs. Eleanor twenty years before the accustom- ed period ; but one had better err on the side of over- decorum. From this time my intimacy with Mrs. Prudentia was what I have above described, and I can bear the fullest testimony to the unblemished purity of her mo- rals and manners. No peeping through the sticks of her fan at officers, no private consultations with spruce barristers and young physicians, no running after hand- some preachers under pretence that their discourses were more edifying, no tete-a-tetes with itinerant lite- rati, no conversations with scientific lecturers ; nothing dubious or coquetish appeared in her manners, but all was discreet, grave, and irreproachable, worthy the adoption of all the pert forward girls, who in their zeal to catch hearts forget that the hook should never be visible. But though, like " the fair vestal throned in the west," Mrs. Prudentia " passed on in maiden medita- tion, fancy free," other parts of her behaviour did a little attract the nibbling malice of puny rivals. She certainly was charged with being an egotist, and too apt to interfere with her neighbours' concerns. It is the duty of friendship to refute calumny, and we all I know that as propriety depends upon circumstances, // 16 THE REFUSAL. so motives justify actions. What was right in Fabius, who had a country to defend, would have been wrong in Alexander, who left his to subdue an empire ; and if Mrs. Tinto had no other view in visiting Lord Claude than to look at Titian's pictures, pray had her husband any right to turn Othello on the occasion ? My friend certainly was a little apt to say u / do this," " This is mij opinion," and somehow or other, however the conversation began, it generally ended in the superiority of her own productions, proceeding from the piteous tale of Gerald ine to her inimitable gingerbread. But then she knew nobody was' so well worth talking of as herself, and happy would it be for society if every egotist were a Prudentia Homespun. Nor did her zeal to regulate the world proceed from censoriousness or impertinence. Her own faults gave her very little trouble, indeed I never could perceive that she knew she had any. Her mind was very ac- tive, and she was exempt from all family cares. Of her patriotism I need not produce a stronger instance than that it prompted her to endure a thousand rebuffs, and to awaken a thousand enmities, rather than she would abandon her resolution of never suffering her acquaintance to commit errors without being told of them. Let not man tenaciously refuse the civic wreath to the exertions of our sisterhood in this department. True, we cannot fight our countries' battles with the hero, nor with the disinterested statesman and daunt- less patriot sacrifice health, peace, and reputation to legislative duties and political conflicts; but do we not defy rheumatisms and cramps, palsies and asthmas, by sallying forth in all sorts of weather to collect, or im- part, intelligence, to inform the ignorant what their neighbours say of their conduct, and to lower sell gratulation by oblique sneers and emphatical inuendos. Neither can the great public characters I have pre- sumed to allude to, triumph over our equally painlul and indefatigable labours, on the pretence that they are unsuccessful ; for I fancy these gentlemen, like our- selves, are often condemned to roll a stone up labour- THE REFUSAL. 1J- in-vain hill, with a noted poetical projector, and only find their pains rewarded by its tumbling down upon them. People have now acquired an inveterate habit of believing themselves to be the best judges of their own affairs ; and though we call upon them in the name of wisdom, and conjure them to listen to our ad- monitions, they doubt whether we bring proper cre- dentials from the goddess, except when we happen to think exactly as they do. Even the exalted character of Mrs. Prudentia could not guard her entirely from these accusations ; and I must ever deplore the effect •of her regulating spirit, as it prematurely deprived the world of its invaluable instructor, and one of the most enchanting of companions, and faultless of friends.' Poor soul ! she never recovered from the illness occa- sioned by her plunging through the snow to tell Betsy Boldface, that Mr. Stanza had made a madrigal on ' her purple elbows. A confirmed cough was the conse- quence, and her knell was rung out the same day that a bridal peal announced, that Miss Boldface had i relieved herself from the terrors of Mr. Stanza's pas- i quinades by making him lord of her person and for- tune. This the Danbury wits call elbowing himself into easy circumstances ; while the happy pair protest that they owe their present felicity to Mrs. Prudentia's kind interference, and Mrs. Stanza came to church more a la mode de Venus than ever : but the honey- moon is not yet over. Another peculiarity in my friend's character was her dislike of contradiction, which was so rooted that it required some degree of courage to dissent from any of her opinions. In tl is, as in all her singulari- ties, I am convinced that she only looked to the im- provement of the world. What virtue is so estimable as humility, what companionable qualities are more attractive than acquiescence and patience ? Can any one hope to rise in the world without these requisites? Could my friend do a greater kindness to her associ- ates than daily to exercise them in those habits which | would fit them for the tables of bashaws of rank and // 18 THE REFUSAL. Xantippes of fashion, rich spinster aunts, and testy bachelor uncles ? Generously lamenting that the ge- nerality of our Danbury beauties were incapacitated from gaining a livelihood by using their hands, she wished to qualify them for that life of dependence to which they seemed partial, by teaching them to hold their tongues. I am sorry to add, that in this instance also her excellent intentions were counteracted by in- gratitude. I have seen the chits laugh when she has taken the trouble to harangue for hours on the advan- tages of silence, and I overheard a pert girl inquire of another tittering flirt, at what age Mrs. Prudentia al- lowed them to practise talking, preparatory to the very hard service which would be required of them when they must, according to that eloquent line, " Chatter chatter chatter chatter still ?" I know so little of literati in general, that I am doubtful whether Mrs. Prudentia's morning lounges and evening conversations were unique in their ar- rangements ? She met us at the door of her drawing room, placed us according to the strictest rules of eti- quette, and if she had no new work to be admired, or opinion to maintain, she proceeded to form a jury 'on lives and characters, and tossing the last f mix pas that had happened in the neighbourhood among us, like her Grace of Stingwell (so forcibly delineated in the pre- sent work by her own inimitable pen)* " Cried ha- vock and let slip the dogs of war." It was only when we were at fault, or gone off on a wrong scent, that she would attempt to set us right, by a smile or a groan as sententious as the " fudge" of Mr. Burchell. Our debates a little differed from those in a certain great assembly, for though we were also permitted * Note by the printer. " This is a mistake of the Editor's. The Duchess of Stingwell is bot slightly mentioned in this work, but she will appear at full length in ' The world of Fashion Unmask- ed/ which Mrs. Eleanor is now editing, and of which it is proposed to print J20,000 copies. THE REFUSAL. 19 to be vituperative, disgressive, elaborate, rhodomon- tade, and ironical, in fine, to say whatever popped into our heads, whether irrelative or appropriate, no one was compelled to wait for general silence, or even for that of the person they addressed ; and it was no un- usual thing to see two declaimers, equally loud, talking to, or rather at, each other. But when the tumult of " Yes, madam, this is my opinion ;" " Nothing ever was so shocking, sir ;" " O moat infamous ! there can be no doubt;" "Only hear what can be said on the other side :" " 'Tis all to no purpose arguing;" " I ne- ver was so sure of any thing in all my life," &c. Sec. resounding from twenty different voices, in different keys, conveyed to our delighted minds the deafening luxury of colloquial enjoyment. Suddenly a noise re- sembling the Euxine sea in full uproar changed to a re- pose, tranquil as the unebbing waves of the Caspian, when our revered hostess, roused from her apparent reverie, politely told us we were all mistaken. On other occasions, when we were invited to be hearers, our tongues had no exercise, except to mur- mur a few acquiescent syllables in admiration of the dictums which were uttered by learning, science, taste, knowledge, genius, virtue, embodied in a Prudentia's form. This exquisite regale lasted till our servants ar- rived with umbrellas and pattens, when, with ten thousand thanks for the pleasure and honour we had enjoyed, we adjourned to our own fire-sides. True, we conversed a little in our way home. Blunt charac- ters yawned out an expression of weariness, the satiri- cal turned Mrs. Prudentia and her lounge into ridi- cule, and people of foresight asked if she had a large fortune at her own disposal: Yet all waited impatiently for the next invitation, for my friend's parties were the most genteel in Danbury, and there was no enduring being left out, as none but people of ton and literati were invited. When the enjoyments of these Attic nights were en- hanced, by Mrs. Prudentia's condescending to read some of her manuscripts, we were raised to the zenith vol. i. c 20 THE REFUSAL. of felicity. Never could any author more truly assure the world that she published at the request of her friends than this lady, for we were not only unanimous in our approbation, but unanimous in begging her to publish her works as soon as she had written them, and in predicting that the success of the new bantling would add still greater honours to her laurelled brow. The suavity of our hostess increased in proportion to the ingenuity and plausibility of our oracular decisions. Betty generally received another summons, and we were intreated to take a second macaroon, and another bumper of Clary wine. For it is the same with the offspring of wit as with our living babies, the youngest brat is always the darling. Conformably, I suppose, to ancient custom, these rites concluded with a sacrifice. Sometimes a rival moralist, gagged and bound, was offered up on the shrine of eulogy: but Mrs.. Prudentia had so much of the esprit du corps in her disposition, that she preferred hunting down that criminal which feeds on the vitals of authors, andthen gibbets their morbid carcases in de- rision, "I mean a critic, to which species my- friend al- ways evinced an antipathy blended with fear and ha- tred ; and, to the eternal honour of Danbury, always declared that our opinion of her compositions was more discriminative, and our encomiums more appro- priate, than the most elaborate critiques of the most acute reviewer. She was very partial to what she called arraigning these gentlemen in their own court; for she denied them the benefit of counsel, and of pleading their own cause, acted herself as jury, judge, •and executioner, and then, like royalty, gave weight to her sentence by publishing it in the plural number. In imitation of their own customs, (so she assured us) she only read such parts of their strictures as would serve for the basis of a charge of high crimes and misdemeanours, and by omitting some passages, and heightening others, she pronounced them' guilty of treason, sacrilege, envy, stupidity, or any other crime, or absurdity, she happened to fix upon: she then de- THE REFUSAL. 21 livered them to run the gauntlet through her delighted auditory, being persuaded that they would find the sen- sation of being laughed at very amusing, since they are generally so assiduous to procure that gratification for others. But I am aware this uninterrupted style of panegy- ric will subject me to the censure which is so common- ly, vet surely unjustly, attributed to editors and bio- graphers, who, I conceive, (whatever may be their in- tention) generally contrive to make their respective authors appear as mere mortals while they hold them up as demi gods. To avert all hazard of this accu- sation, I will bring to light two circumstances which impeded the celebrity, and abridged the quantity, of Mrs. Prudentia's writings. She was a disciple of the old aristocratic school, and she had a higher opinion of public taste than of public candour. At least, she thought that the latter was drawn on so much oftener than die former, that there was danger of the bank be- ing exhausted. As the latter notion prevented her from seizing those glorious golden opportunities, which thousands have found so precious, by rapidly pouring forth their impromptus on those all-engrossing topics which sink into oblivion in eight-and-forty hours, so the former opinion absolutely precluded her from gi- ving that high finish to her portraits of people of quality which is now necessary to complete the like- ness. I am concerned to acknowledge, that she knew so little of high life from personal observation, and was so wretchedly opinionated, that she never would believe worse of the great than that they fell into the offences incident to prosperity, and for want of proper self- command were sometimes incorrect in their morals; in short, that lords and ladies were simplv men and women. She even insisted, that the man of rank might be distinguished from the porter, even when they both wore Satan's livery. In vain was she told, that the love of novelty now predominaets so much that the vices of gentlemen went out with toupies and 22 THE REFUSAL. laced waistcoats, and that the debauchees and bons-vi- vans of the age did not copy from Petronius, Horace, or Lucullus, but, with the profligacy, adopted the mind and manners of pugilists and coachmen; while demireps and beaux-esprits, not content with being li- centious, determined also to be audacious, and thought the deeds of the courtezan not sufficiently disgraceful unless, like them, they bound on impudence as a front- let. No arguments would convince my friend that such was the general cast of manners. She was firmly convinced, that a plot existed to degrade eminence and annihilate rank, but she never would believe that the in- tended victims were active agents in the conspiracy, bu- sily employed in expediting their own destruction, by subverting those buttresses of respect and veneration which prevented popular opinion from undermining the ancient fabric of baronial greatness. The times, she said, had disposed her to credit wondefs, but not impossibilities, and when the newspapers were pro- duced as evidences of the truth of the charge, she wonld either wish the laws against slander were rigid- ly infbrced, or gravely assert, some "night tripping fairy," or rather wet nurse, " had exchanged the chil- dren as they lay," and dropped the pedlar's, or the gip- sies', offspring in the cradle of the Plantagenets. These prejudices, added to her having some scru- ples respecting the lawfulness of blasphemy, and the decency of double entendres (even though not uttered by the author in propria persona, but put into the mouths of some character to shew wit, courage, and knowledge of the world) made many think my friend's writings cold, bigoted, and ill-timed. From these disadvantages her posthumous works will be exoner- ated ; for as I hold it to be the prime business of a writer to secure readers, I will never impede the suc- cess of my labours by fastidiousness about ornaments, over tenacity of principles, or zeal to defend people who shew they care not what the world says of them., " Sail with the tide," shall be my motto ; and though the literary remains of my late friend are to form the THE REFUSAL. 23 vessel in which I embark my fame, I assure the world that I am quite equal to my editorial province of emen- dation, and, perhaps, may occasionally plead authority if I sometimes do a little more than correct and im- prove. At least, I may insert what I think Mrs. Pru- dentia would have said had she been better informed, or had she lived to the present period. New gilt, varnished, and copper-bottomed, under the care of an expert pilot, the old ship Prudentia Homespun shall tack and veer with any light sloop in the service, and, to drop the metaphor, the papers in my possession are so voluminous, that, with the help of a little trans- position of dates, facts, and names, I think I may promise the public to have a novel, satire, elegy, Epi- thalamium, or ode, ready to issue from the press with the first batch on any great event which engrosses the public, be it a naval victory, a barouche race, or the diamond cross of a prostitute of fashion. Whatever possesses celebrity is fair game to an industrious edi- tor, and to avoid all that punctilio and pertinacity which prevented my friend from turning her talents to the best account, I hereby give notice, that as soon as the unsold copies of this novel are consigned to the trunk-maker, I shall commence the new series of Mrs. Prudentia's lucubrations, in which care will be taken to speak softly of every vice in fashion, and to foment all popular discontents. Dashing girls shall no longer have their spirits curbed by frigid councils, nor ancient ladies be thrown into vapours by prosings about mor- tality. The novels I shall hereafter publish iu my friend's name shall either be lullabies or stimuli, suit- ed to the hurricane or vacuum of fashionable life ; and I invite the world to read them, and see how neatly I can dearn tattered reputations when worth mending, or when irreparable give a jaunty enchanting air to mere rags. I shall also take care to disparage such high desert and spotless purity as are offensive to other people. I will prove my liberality by making my he- roine commit a faux pas, and mj knowledge of the world by obliging my hero to love her the better for vol. i. c 2 04 THE REFUSAL. it. In short, whoever wish to have their vices exten- uated, their humours flattered, their rivals ridiculed, and the whole arcana of secret intelligence and court intrigue laid open to their inspection, will be my pur- chasers. In the present work there are very few touches of my pen. But as I am told it will sell better if I add a key, explaining who are meant by the principal cha- racters, I will not omit so important a part of an edi- tor's duty. . Though my friend has owned she did think of some certain people, she never would satisfy my eager inquiries on the subject. The most minute observation has, however, enabled me to develope the mystery, though regard for my own safety compels me to deal in initials. Lady Avondel then is no other than the Countess of X, who was a great fortune, lived with her uncle, and went by the name of good little Emily. A marriage and accouchment actually hap- pened in the Y p family, and I saw the person she describes as Lord Avondel, covered with the in- signia of different orders. I hope I shall not be threat- ened with a prosecution if I whisper, that it was the celebrated Sir K — v — f Q.- m, who died, nobody knows how, in a duel about nobody knows what. Sir Walter Mandeville is the well known German general Baron Shd wgldh ; he wears a Kevenhuller hat, is gouty and asthmatical. It would be dangerous even to_ hint who was meant for Paulina, and every bodv knows Lady Mackintosh. The character of Se- Jina puzzled me, till at last I discovered, that it was intended as a delicate tribute of friendship, being no other than my own. My beauty certainly is faded, and the world has not done justice to my merit. I fear I shall be satirized if I say any more on this subject. I now commend this compendium of secret history to the world with all its imperfections, and I assure the public, that unless some people whom I will not name, make it worth my while to be silent, I shall next time be less careful about personality. I remain the most devoted servant of the public, ELEANOR SINGLETON [ 25 ] INTRODUCTION BY MRS. PRUDENTIA. A FRAGMENT. There, at one passage oft you might survey, A lie and truth contending for the way ; And long 'twas doubtful, both so closely pent, Which first should issue through the narrow vent. At last agreed, together out they fly Inseparable now, the truth and lie. Pope. -Mr. Stanza, in his reply to the doctor, admitted, that the arguments of his reverend oppo- nent would be unanswerable, if history really posses- sed all the advantages to which it pretends ; M for cer- tainlv, my dear Sir," said he, " I am not such a Quixote in polemics as to dispute the self-evident tru- ism, that truth is preferable to falsehood. I only maintain, that those elaborate quartos which affect to contain the lives of eminent men, or the fortunes of empires, have too much of fable, conjecture, and misrepresentation in them to be justly characterized by so abstract and simple a term as truth. And I also assert, that we shall transgress the laws of can- dour if we denominate a well-digested fiction, which copies human actions and passions with force and cor- rectness, by the gross appellation of falsehood. In perusing the pages of Fielding, Richardson, and Gold- smith, we always feel in the company of human be- ings ; nay, sometimes among our own acquaintance. We anticipate their sentiments, we know what they will do, and though occasionally events may be brought about more malapropos, or more adroitly, than we have been accustomed to see in real life, we rather suspect our knowledge of the world is too limited to 26 THE REFUSAL. supply an exact parallel of accidents, than doubt the author's veracity from the improbabilities in his story : I mean while the strong enchantment of genius fasci- nates our judgment, by introducing the aspect of re- ality. But, Sir, does this effect take place when we turn over the works of those historians and biographers who set human nature upon stilts, or degrade it to the standard of a pigmy, commanding us to adore absolute perfection, or to execrate the bestial compendium of all imaginable depravity ? or of those, who, rather aiming to be ingenious than veracious, shew us that they care not what they establish, so they do but over- throw preconceived opinions? The difficulty of dis- covering what is really matter of fact in any event which happens in our own immediate neighbourhood, is obvious. Distance of place increases the danger of .' misrepresentation, and distance of time still more. — Yet, after the lapse of ages, a literary adventurer shall step forth, calling himself an historian, and armed with rhetoric instead of records, give a new turn to facts, and a new colouring to characters, which shall absolutely invalidate the authenticity of contemporary testimony. I will not call Le Sage or Cervantes no- velists, but such authors as 1 ' — " My dear sir," said the doctor, breaking silence with unwonted eagerness, " be careful, no names." u I admire your caution" answered Stanza, " but there is no need of the personal appellative ; to name the qualities which they affect is quite as discrimina- tive. When one acknowledged bias to any particular party, or system, is considered as laudable in an his- torian, you, mv good friend, are I know too candid to look into his labours with an expectation of finding them to be the well in which you may discover truth. The pomp of rhetoric, I am sure, will not convince you that the writer is impartial, when you p-rceive him glossing events to accommodate them to the pre- dominent colour of his work, and omitting those facts which tend to overthrow his darling tenet, and are too stubborn to be moulded into a contrary form. I own THE, REFUSAL. 27 t clt-tcst an argument whose tendency is to defame the memory of a revered character ; and I have equal ob- jections to the exaltation of a villain, when dubious tradition, and strained evidence, are made the sup- porters of his greatness. Nay, I go so far as to think, that our veneration for virtue, and abhorrence of vice, are weakened by having our opinions of past genera- tions so frequently unsettled ; and I am inclined to adopt the opinion of the lively traveller, who pro- nounced history the most bewildering, the dullest, gravest, and most unlikely of all fictions. If Livy be judged to outrage probability, no less in his long ha- rangues than in his prodigies, shall they pass for t-.iith- ful narrators who, without any authentic document to support their assertions, invent motives which very likely never entered into the minds of the personages to whom they ascribe them, or who, on a £a\v detached circumstances, founded on loose testimony, erect a magnificent system of ideal speculations :" Mr. Stan- za then proceeded to quote the well-known lines of Pope, " Ask why from Britain Caesar made retreat ;'' and then finding himself unanswered, continued his Philippic. — " When an historian has any apparent end in view, whether of aggrandisement or defamation, I always degrade him to the rank of a party writer, and mete out my commendations by the same standard as I apply to an ephemeral pamphleteer, or an acknowledg- ed advocate. On the contrarv, when the florid page, unencumbered by references to contemporary authori- ties and established records, seems only devoted to the innocent purpose of shewing the writer's ingenuity, I try the composition as I would the labours of a poet or a romance writer ; and determine its excellence or de- merit by the quantity of wit, fancy, and eloquence, it contains. To be brief, I class what are termed popular well-written histories, with works of mere entertain- ment, and I am convinced that those who build their opinions of past times on these inventions, commit as gross an error as the fair enthusiast lady Arabella, who 28 THE REFUSAL. formed her notions of the court of Augustus from the romance of the empress Julia."* No doubt the learned doctor would have completely refuted the assertions of the poet, whose love for Pe- gasus induced him to maintain that Clio and Calliope -were equally partial to his hobby, and allowed him to practice the same antics and curvets under the manage- ment of each of them. But his good breeding con- vinced him that the company Avere rather over-dosed by Stanza, and as I (hating to see one person engross the whole conversation, or one subject consume an evening) did not give him an encouraging glance, he continued silent, taking care, by a significant shake of his head and a quicker ' evolution of his thumbs,' to intimate, that he held Stanza's sentiments in the most ineffable contempt. Not content with a dubious victory, the triumphant poet continued to throw down the gage of controversy with a wish to provoke his sullen adversary to renew the combat. After having proved that we really knew little or nothing of past ages, and shewn, from the na- ture of things, that little or nothing could be known, he proceeded to question our knowledge of the pre- sent j and the obituary of my old friend Urban (whose labours always lie on my tea-table) served him as a text-book. He first read a warm eulogiuin on Sir Mushroom Treatvvell, who, it was affirmed, died universally regretted by a very numerous and respect- able acquaintance. " Drop the word respectable," said the invidious Stanza, u and there is some truth in the panegyric. The old contractor kept a French cook, and his wines were almost genuine. His house was crowded with needy sycophants, who gave him flattery for his meat, and though they were the sweepings of Grub-street, he really believed that he patronised wit and genius. I went once just to enjoy the singularity of seeing every eye and every word directed to the great man, * The Female Quixote. THE REFUSAL. 29 whose table was furnished like that of Apicius, while his person and conversation exhibited a compound of Scarrori and Midas. I could not address my remarks to a fellow whose three ideas centered in being knavish, avaricious, and ostentatious : nor could I listen to the jests of Joe Miller, translated into the cockney idiom. He courted me, 'tis true, for this full blown buffo had some discernment. But I assure you,. Ladies, I was not one of the respectable acquaintance who deplored the loss of Sir Mushroom." In this satirical style did Stanza run over several columns, proving, to our extreme astonishment, that although you practise every vice, and inherit every meanness, wealth, and an affectation of liberality, will procure you a passable reputation while living, and on your demise give you honourable mention among the records of Britain's true worthies. He then des- canted on the folly of parsimony, and the misfortune of indigence, the one in neglecting, and the other in not being able to secure, that rich though ideal posses- sion, fame, when his unmerciful prosing was interrupt- ed by the following simple paragraph, " On the 27th died, at the house of her nephew, the earl of Avondel, the right honourable lady Selina Delamore." " And is nothing said of her ladyship?" inquired the doctor. " At least," said S:anza, " this abstinence of censure obliges us to confess, that the age is as cha- ritable as it is liberal., O tempora, o mores, that such a woman should be allowed to steal thus silently to the grave !" " I presume," said I, " Lady Selina was a very ex- traordinary character ; I wonder I never heard of her." The sententious doctor turned up his eyes, and ad- mitted it was very wonderful. " My dear Mrs. Prudeutia," observed Stanza, who, with all his flippancv and self-conceit, really is well bred, " I am sure your walls are never contaminated 'by the recital of gross misdemeanours, unaccountable w 30 THE REFUSAL perjuries, breaches of all divine and human laws, of- fences that burst the very bond of society. Should any one of your visitants attempt to entertain you with an account of such outrages, I am confident your doors would be thenceforth barred against him, whom ,you Would consider as a foul defamer of your species, en- deavouring to contract your charity and impugn your candour." " Unquestionably," said I, " the deeds of such mis- creats as you allude to are better concealed from the world, and I exceedingly condemn those who first pro- mulgate them. But though I abhor defamation, when a story is public there is no harm in hearing it. Did you know Lady Selina, Sir?" " No, thank my happier stars," replied Stanza shrugging his shoulders and rising to take leave. " Bless me," resumed I, '• is her story then so very bad ? you might just give one an outline, as there are no young ladies present?" " It would only divert a Sir Mushroom," answered Stanza, " or such people as love to see the world de- graded to their own gross level. You, madam, need no foil to set off your virtues. Celibacy in you shews like the icicle on Dian's temple, and the history of an unhappy spinster who — " At this critical moment the door opened, fresh com- pany entered, and Stanza retired dumb and mysterious as an ancient oracle. I defy the most illiberal of my acquaintance to charge me with an exhuberant share of curiosity, yet, I own, Stanza's complimentary inuendo made me a little uneasy, I mean for the honour of my sisterhood. Nor was the doctor more communicative. That worthy gentleman had acquired a reputation for pro- found learning and wisdom, and he maintained it by reserving these hoards carefully for his private use. He was particularly cautious not to involve himself in any difficulty by hasty communications, and he has been known to lock the door before he imparted intelligence which was printed in that day's gazette. He would not THE, REFUSAL. 31 tell you that the duke of Monmouth was the illegitimate son of Charles the 2d. without the saving clause of " So it was reported ;" and I therefore considered it as an extraordinary mark of confidence, that, after several interviews, and much winding and sifting, (at which I claim some share of adroitness) I induced him to com- mit himself so far as to say, that " Poor Lady Selina had been much talked of, and might be said to have two very opposite characters." I shall not acquaint the world from what source I have since derived such copious and correct informa- tion as will enable me to fill three volumes (allowing for proper margins and amplifications) with the cir- cumstances connected with this extraordinary lady. I am thankful that I am not in the predicament of the historians so severely treated by Stanza. The world has no doubt of my veracity, and they know that when I am barren of materials I dare not invent. Nor will I usher in my story with the pomp of supplicatory in- troduction. My faults and my perfections are equally known. All I shall premise is, that having been pri- vately informed that Stanza is at work upon the same narrative, I have been forced to hurry the publication. For though I am aware that his will no more resemble mine than the lives of the same person by different hands usually do each other, there is a vast advantage in being first at market ; and besides, the Horatian rule respecting the time that manuscripts should lie upon the shelf, will not apply to what is annihilated by keeping ; for after Lady Selina has been dead six months no one will care about her or her history. Moreover, Stanza threatens me with printing from short hand, but I trust the public will be predisposed to prefer an old friend now sinking in the vale of years, who has almost blinded herself in their service. The work itself certainly must excite attention on account of its originality ; for besides that my readers may ex- pect to meet with some of their own acquaintance among the characters it contains, the history of an old VOL. I. D 30 THE REFUSAL. maid, with all the scandal she either circulated or ex- cited during a period of seventy years, must be allowed to be unique. And though I own it is undertaken with a determination of establishing the honour of our sisterhood, I do not despair of occupying a high place among impartial historians. [ 33 ] CHAPTER I. His virtues walk'd their narrow round, Obscurely wise and coarsely kind. Johnson. Emily Mandeville was nineteen years of age when, in the spring of 1778, she exchanged the gloomv solitude of Lime Grove for the magnificent abode of her ancestors, situated in a romantic part of Devonshire. It was at this time the residence of her uncle, Sir Walter Mandeville, the last male heir of an ancient family, in whose person the entail expired. Sir Walter had entered the army in early life, this being one of the common destinations of a younger brother, and had soon become so attached to his pro- fession as to form no wish for such a permanent con- nection with the fair sex as would detach his thoughts from the duties of a soldier* Possibly the scanty pro- vision of a younger brother, and the circumstance that Sir James was married, and had a family, might tend to preserve him from those violent attacks of wealth and beauty which are so generally irresistible. Certain tt is, Colonel Mandeville was suffered to acquire a sort of a misanthropic opinion of the ladies, till, on the death of his nephew, a promising youth of sixteen, he became Sir Walter.' He now, for the first time in his life, re- gretted that his days had been spent in celibacy, since it consigned the name of Mandeville to oblivion, and left himself and a young female orphan the sole inhe- ritors of the blood of that illustrious family. He re- collected that his brother, Sir James, on his deathbed, had appointed him guardian to both his children; but whilst young Sir George lived, Emily was too insignifi- cant to attract so much of his attention as to induce him to remove her from the care of her maternal aunt. 34- THE REFUSAL. Lady Selina Delamore, though he believed that lady to be a most odious character, and was convinced she would quite pervert her niece's disposition. Sir Walter Mandeville was turned of sixty, when the demise of the young baronet first introduced him to the possession of uncontrolled power, and superflu- ous wealth, for the disposal of which no human tribunal could call him to account. He had lived neglected and dependent till the heyday of life was passed. The treatment he had endured gave him a dislike for his species, and it was not removed by observing that, though the poor soldier had been overlooked and de- spised, the wealthy baronet was courted and flattered. He could not believe himself suddenly transformed from something below mediocrity in talent to a gen- tleman of most respectable understanding ; and though the stories which he had told when ensign, without discomposing one countenance, now excited thunders of applause, he had the discernment to perceive, and the humility to acknowledge, that this tribute was paid to his rank, not to himself; and that he certainly was a worse jester now than he had been forty years be- fore. Fortune, therefore; had a very different effect upon his sincere, blunt character, to what she usually exerts, by making him more out of humour with the world, and dissatisfied with himself; and but for his strong attachment to that best part of his species, the lire of Mandeville, his contempt of sycophants^ and his pity of stupid old fellows who are placed in situa- tions where they do nothing but expose themselves, would have induced him to surrender his patrimony to his sovereign, with a request that it might be placed in better hands. Actuated by family pride, without one iota of what was personal, Sir Walter felt it his duty to keep up the Mandeville dignity. He had public days, and presided at his table, sullen through pique, and awkward from a consciousness of inferiority. He distributed charity with a sort of snarling benevolence, and joined in those rural sports for which he had an aversion, and THE REFUSAL. 3j found inconvenient to his personal infirmities, because the Mandevilles were all very bountiful, and kept fox- hounds. With a strong, and sometimes acknowledg- ed, regret for those happy days, when, as an old half- pay officer, he could stroll about master of his own actions, or sun himself upon a bench in martial conver- sation with some other veterans, as Homer describes his Trojan counsellors, he consented to be steward of the assemblies ; and with a persuasion that women were a greater plague than any Pandora carried in her box, he sought out partners for the tittering misses, who suppressed their ridicule of the old beau in his presence only from the hope that he would make them an offer. Indeed, Sir Walter's attachment to his fa- mily soon made all the prudent matrons in the neigh- bourhood point him out as a marrying man; and he often pondered in secret on the eligibility of resigning the comforts of singleness for the chance of giving a legal heir to an ancient and expiring race of worthies. Whoever considers, that though Sir Walter's temper was in a continual state of irritation, he comprized every earthly blessing in the term bachelor, will truly estimate the nobleness of mind which could induce one of the most inveterate of the Benedict order to meditate such a sacrifice. Certainly, his person did not announce a very eligible votary of Hymen. H's features, naturally hard, were bronzed by many a cam- paign in tropical regions ; he had lost one eye at the taking of the Havannah ; and a musket ball had lodged in his shoulder, which brought on infirmities that com- pelled him to quit the service, ^e had too much of the veteran in his character to ascribe to himself ima- ginary graces, and he never contemplated his figure without lamenting the fallen state of his family. I have hinted, that his opinion of the fair sex did i not tend to expedite the design of devoting his future days to their society. In common with men who have been more accustomed to coarse and depraved, than to ! refined and amiable women, he viewed them as har- ^pies, who spoiled every social comfort, rather than D 2 36 THE REFUSAL. Halcyones brooding over the nest of domestic felicity ; and he more especially dressed marriage in those hues v.'hen uxorious infirmity was unequally yoked to reluc- tant levity. He shuddered at the idea of being what he called dandled about by some disguised shrew, or cozening demirep, who submitted to his ill humours for the sake of spending his fortune, of being called Lady Mandeville, and of the reversionary hope of a large jointure. Some few, indeed, of his old compa- nions had bound their grey and scattered locks with Hymen's roses, and were become in their own opinions happy husbands ; but then Sir Walter thought very meanly of their understandings, and cordially sub- scribed to the opinion of those who traced every evil under the sun to female origin. So rigidly did he ad- here to this school of metaphysics, that, exclusively of the glorious scars of honour which he deemed orna- mental, there was not a defect in his frame, or a mis- fortune in his life, that he did not derive from women. He traced his asthmatic attacks to his great-grandmo- ther who died of that disease ; his mother's family be- queathed him the gout ; an aunt humoured him in his indolence till he became'an invincible blockhead ; his sister-in-law made a mere Jerry of her husband, in- jured his fortune, and spoiled Mandeville castle by putting in new furniture, and making what she called improvements ; and lastly, his nephew lost his life by overheating himself with dancing at Exeter races, with a girl who wanted to entrap the poor boy for her hus- band. These reflections were concluded with a lamen- tation, that though women were jilts the world could not go on without them. Whilst balancing the miseries of his intended mar- riage against the supposed duty of contracting such an engagement, he suddenly recollected, that he might sacrifice his peace of mind and freedom without se- curing the perpetuity of his family : he might have no children, or only daughters. In the latter case, how- ever, it would be possible, as he had great parliamen- tary influence, to have the name and title restored in Tlttl REFUSAL. 37 the son of one of these unborn heiresses. Sir Walter was not accustomed to make any very bright discove- ries, but while pursuing this train of thought, he found it to be somewhat improbable that he should live to see his grandsons, and a little while after it struck him, that since the estate was now entirely at his own dis- posal he might as well give it to his brother's daugh- ter as to his own; and as Emily was now marriageable he had a chance of seeing half Mandevilles spring from net stock. Every time he pondered on this scheme it appeared more eligible, and he began to wish to get acquainted with one who was even now his presumptive heiress. If he invited her to come to see him, he could send her away when he found her troublesome, an advantage a wife would not bring with her. Besides, he should not be bound to her for life, for the heiress of the Delamores and Mandevilles would be sure to find a husband enterprising enough to re- lieve him from the arduous task of trying to keep a great fortune out of mischief. But Sir Walter was doomed by fate to be involved in difficulties, especially in his dealings with ladies. Common civility required that he should extend his invitation to the maiden aunt with whom she had re- sided since the death of both her parents. The senti- ments which resolute bachelors entertain toward our sisterhood, resemble the amity of cats and dogs, and I am afraid that the aversion is quite as reciprocal, though every one must allow the provocation is on our side. Sir Walter felt more than the common animosity of a belligerent to Lady Selina. All his little world spoke ill of her. He knew that she had behaved very badly in early life, and she was sister to Lady Hono- ria Mandeville, for whom he had a violent antipathy, though he had never seen her but once. His reasons for this hatred were, that she governed her husband, shewed some contempt for the family heir-looms, in- jured the estate, and produced but one son. How was he to endure, even for a few months, the torment of be- ing circumscribed in his own castle by an old maid, who 38 THE REFUSAL. according to the nature of things, must be whimsical and contradictious. He loved early hours, he detest- ed books, except the Memoirs of Marshal Saxe, and the Campaigns of the Duke of Marlborough ; his in- firmities required hot rooms, and his chief delight was backgammon. Now, he was pre-assm*ed, Lady Seli- na would not touch her dinner till he wanted to go to bed, that she required as constant a supply of air as a windmill, walked about with a Greek Lexicon in her hand, and fell into hysterics at the sound of the dice box. There would be one way of escaping her ; he could let the castle, take lodgings at Bath, put up a tent bed in a closet for Emily, (if he found the aunt had not spoiled her) and then apologize to Lady Seli- na for want of room and ill health, which prevented him from any longer enjoying her company. After various determinations, he at last dispatched the follow- ing letter to Lime Grove. " Dear niece, I condole with you very heartily on poor George's death. He was a fine young man, and would have been a credit to the family, which is very poorly re- presented now. Had he lived, I should not have been so much concerned about you, for managing this estate is quite affliction enough for me, and more than I can well bear, never having been used to business. Be- sides, I am old and infirm, .and that makes me peevish. But if you think a visit to me will be any treat to you, I shall be glad of your company for a few months, though I have never seen you since you were christen- ed, when I stood god-father. I had promised to do so, expecting you would have been a boy, so I could not well get off. Give my best respects to Lady Selina Delamore, and thank her for all the trouble she has had with you ; I dare say it has been a great deal. I hope she has not per- mitted you to get any odd ways, or taught you to be disagreeable. I should have been glad to see her la- dyship with you, but my old castle is so much out of re- THE REFUSAL. 39 pair, I have but one comfortable room to live in, and we have no card assemblies in the neighbourhood. Be- sides, it always disagreed with vour mother, who said she caught her death here. Had poor George lived, most likely he would have rebuilt it, but it will do well enough tor me, as I am the last of the Mandevilles. So we shall all go to ruin together. I suppose you will soon pick up a husband, as your fortune is too large for any woman, even if I don't leave you mine ; the more is the pitv. However, it is our duty to submit, and make the best defence we can, when the campaign goes against us. I remain Your affectionate uncle, Walter Mandeville." Among the few comforts which Lady Selina enjoy- ed, the society of young Emily held a distinguished pre-eminence. It reconciled her to life, at a time when the world appeared a disgusting void, and the task of informing her niece's mind and modelling her manners, greatly tended to dissipate a melancholy, which, as no one could clearly explain its cause, was charitably ascribed to a splenetic disposition. But though an old maid, and confessedly an unhappy one, Lady Selina was not so entirely self-devoted as to re- strain Emily from accepting her guardian's invitation. On the contrary, she rejoiced that he seemed at length inclined to execute the duties of his office ; and though from having once lived in the World, she well knew that happiness does not always ride about in a vis-a-vis with affluence, she was not displeased to find Sir Wal- ter least thought it possible that Emily might eventual- ly prove the heiress of the Mandeville, as she already was of the Delamore family. She had long foreseen her separation from her amiable charge. Lime Grove, although well adapted for the purposes of a nursery and a school, was an improper residence for a young- lady of high expectations; and she was endeavouring to subdue her own reluctance to appear again in the 40 THE REFUSAL- world, which the sudden death of Sir George Mande- ville opened such vast views to her niece, that she felt bewildered in what manner to act, or how to secure her from those disadvantages which might result from an introduction under her own immediate auspices. While she was thus perplexed as to the mode of pro- ceeding she should adopt, Emily's age convincing her that no more time must be lost, they received Sir Wal- ter's letter. The propriety of restoring the young la- dy to her father's family, was indisputable. 'Tis true, he only invited her for a short time, and she had heard too much of his singularities, to suppose that the un- cle and niece would become so much attached as to deprive her forever of the society of her adopted daughter; but there were great advantages annexed to this transitory emigration from Lime Grove, as it would be the means of introducing her to society, to which in every form she was yet a stranger. As to herself, the summer was approaching, the severe in- firmities from which she had so long suffered, general- ly relaxed their fury at that season, when, though she could not be said to enjoy health, pain yielded to the softer term indisposition. Her garden afforded her great amusement, and a few charitable institutions which she had formed in the village, satisfactorily employed her time and thoughts. She fancied she could live without Emily, at least she knew it to be a duty to endeavour to do so : and after giving her let- ters of introduction to the few ladies whom she knew in the vicinity of Mandeville Castle, the fair Emily was dismissed with many a blessing, and a few ill- concealed tears, on what proved an eventful expedi- tion. Certainly there appeared nothing very reprehensible in this part of Lady Selina's conduct ; but as morose ill-principled people will occasionally act in a credita- ble manner, and as one part of the moral which I mean to enforce is, the folly and danger of drawing- hasty conclusions, I still intreat my readers to suspend .their opinions of this mysterious recluse. I have ac- THE REFUSAL. 41 knowleclged that melancholy threw a pensive shade over her character, and does not this circumstance alone, of her being unhappy, intimate that she had been criminal ? I leave this question to be discussed by those writers, who, in describing the lot of inno- cence, seem to consider calamity as no longer one of , the trials that virtue is doomed to undergo in this pro- bationary state. Among the oblations which we daily offer to the god Prosperity, we now sacrifice the repu- tations of the miserable, and we not only say with Young, " Look into those we call unfortunate, And closer view'd, we find they were unwise," — but with Pope's dealer in judgments, we often so far misapply the doctrine of a particular Providence, as to believe " the nodding temple is suspended, to crush the head of Chartres." When youth is uncontaminated by affectation or duplicity, its feelings are always acute. Emily thought, as the carriage drove from Lime Grove, that she and happiness had bidden adieu till they should be again restored to each other in the society of her dear aunt, in the little cedar parlour. At this moment, she for- got that she had ever felt the sameness of their unva- ried days ; that she had wished to see a little more of life than their neighbouring market-town afforded, or was supplied by the rector and apothecary, and two Dr three quiet country neighbours, to modernize her vunt's antiquated description of her own times. Like Dther girls of her age, she next wished, that as she was separated from her dear and only friend, the horses lad taken the road to London ; but her sorrow in leav- ng Lady Selina, was at last absorbed by painful con- ectures respecting the manner in which she should ■pend her time among strangers, and in a sumptuous tyle of living to which she was quite unaccustomed. She had gained a few particulars of her guardian's paracter from her brother ; his own letter confirmed 42 THE REFUSAL. the impression of singularity ; and Lady Selina's part- ing precepts, conjuring her to be assiduously attentive, seemed to intimate that the task was difficult. She had hitherto pleased every body, but it was without any studied effort, and she greatly feared that her powers of fascination were not so inherent as to exempt her from the awkwardness of forced exertion. Again she wished the summer over, and as her aunt had hinted that her introduction to the great world must take place the ensuing winter, her anticipation of the un- known delights of London made her still more indif- ferent to catch the first glance of the turrets of Man- deville castle. [ 43 j CHAPTER II. High rising- in baronial pride, Near a swift river deep and wide, With battlements and turrets crown'd, The castle in stern grandeur frown'd. It stood upon a wooded hill Shelter'd from tempests strong" and chill, Grey were its mossy walls, jet time Had spar'd the pomp of early prime ; And the arch'd gate and stately tower, Could still a stern defiance lower, Had not a mild and peaceful age Bcnumb'd the arm of feudal rage. Yet tho' around the martial keep Thick clematis and ivy creep, And where the archers stood in rows, Profuse th' untrodden wall-flower blows. This lofty fabric still retains The homage of the native swains ; And they whose sires were wont to arm, When its red beacons gave alarm, Now with pure hearts, contrite audmeek, The solace of its chapel seek. Or at its owner's friendly call Joyous frequent the crowded hall : For duly at each holy time The bells were rung in solemn chime, And still the village poor were fed, The social banquet still was spread. And as the tale or jest went round, His honour's health the goblet crown'd Hoping the line would ne'er run out, And next year's cyder be as stout. Manuscript. WHEN Emily's carriage had passed the avenue leading to the castle, the decriped owner, dressed in his Kevenhuller hat and scarlet roquelaure, advanced to the porter's ward to meet his trembling visitor. He I first, with somewhat of an alarmed aspect, inquired // after Lady Selina's health, and being assured that it |. VOL. I. E 44 THE REFUSAL was too delicate to permit her to undertake a long journey, he pressed Emily's hand affectionately, told her she was a good girl to come by herself, and led her through a double line of servants dressed in state liveries, to a spacious, but ill-furnished saloon. Here he presented her to a lady clad in the deepest sables, whom he announced by the name of Lady Mackin- tosh, of Dunswood, by whose discreet conduct and amiable manners, he wished Emily to form her own behaviour. Though the young lady did not remem- ber this name among the number of those with whom her aunt wished her to be intimate ; the presence of a female companion was a wonderful relief to her mind, and she returned her ladyship's embrace with a warmth almost equally affectionate j but she found herself very deficient in volubility when she attempted to express, with the same rapture as Lady Mackintosh had evinc- ed, the ecstacy she felt at this interview, and her con- viction that it was the commencement of a permanent friendship. When- dinner was announced, Sir Walter, with a ceremonious bow, led his niece to the head of the ta- ble, and desired her to consider herself as mistress of the mansion, while she honoured it with her residence. A transient cloud passed over Lady Mackintosh's face during this address, and on their return to the saloon, she redoubled her efforts to conciliate Emily's esteem. She at first made a slight inquiry after Lady Selina, but finding it answered in a tone of the warmest affec- tion and gratitude, she grew lavish in her praises. — " I was but a child," said she, " when I saw her at Mandeville castle. Beauty and grace were blended in her person, and her manners were so very captivat- ing, that I protest I never saw her equal. She had the goodness to shew me her wadding clothes ; such taste and magnificence ! How often did I wish that I had been Lady Selina Delamore! Poor soul, and to think how it all ended ! I suppose you know the full particulars ?" THE REFUSAL. 45 Emily protested that she was utterly ignorant of her aunt's early history. " Astonishing !" returned Lady Mackintosh, " but she really is the most singular wo- man I know, singularly discreet I mean ; and indeed, my dear little Emily, you are very like her. Such prudence at your age is wonderful. But I hope you will repay your uncle's kindness by fixing at Mande- ville castle. How I shall exult in acting as chaperon to so much beauty and virtue." She then proceeded to exculpate herself from what Emily's unsuspicious mind had not discovered to be an impropriety, I mean her own intimacy with Sir Wal- ter. Rivers of tears ran down her cheeks while she described the warm friendship that had subsisted be- tween Sir Walter and her ever-beloved, her ever-la- mented husband. " Sir Jeremiah," said she in plain- tive accents, " bequeathed me to the care of his se- cond self, and since that event which I cannot name, Sir Walter Mandeville is the only gentleman whose society I can support. My heart is wedded to the ; ashes of my lamented partner ; and if the sweet at- tractions of your ingenuous manners should draw mc frequently to Mandeville castle, let not your prudence suspect that any sinister design harbours in this sad bosom. But I forget, you know not my historv and the noble frankness of your countenance invites my confidence." The history of Lady Mackintosh would have con- tained nothing extraordinary, had it not been for the style in which she adorned it. She was born a beauty, with small fortune, attracted more lovers than offers of i marriage, and, when the roses of youth had faded, se- cured herself a small jointure by becoming the filth wife of Sir Jeremiah Mackintosh, and mother-in-law i to four sets of children. To the happiness of this con- nection, her flowing crape and streaming tears now bore witness ; and she protested her frequent visits to Mandeville castle had no other motive than to con- verse about the dear man with one who knew all his fA-irtues, or to implore the counsel and protection of Sir 46 THE REFUSAL. Walter for a poor woman who had now lost her only friend. Though Emily had seen nothing of the world, all the ingenuousness of innocents could not prevent her from perceiving that her uncle's attentions were pecu- liarly grateful to this lady, and that, on his side, they much exceeded the strained politeness which the habits of military gallantry usually extorted from this pro- iessed woman hater. In truth, Sir Walter had hitherto considered the fair widow as the only exception to fe- male craft and female folly, which the experience of sixty years, and a residence in many different countries, had supplied ; and when he pondered on the dire ne- cessity of contracting a matrimonial alliance, he some- times regretted that Lady Mackintosh was too incon- solable to allow him a hope of success, and too old to produce him a son. Indeed, he could scarcely think it right to attempt the subversion of the virtue he re- vered, for his admiration of her was founded on the deep affliction with which the loss of her husband ap- peared to overwhelm her. This regret he considered the more generous, from" having been often called upon to arbitrate between them, when their disputes ex- ceeded that sort of quiet bickering and well-bred sar- casm, which is thought very wholesome in the married state. Here, however, the case was different to what he found it in other families, the lady was always right; and after proving herself to be so, by her sub- mission to the domination of an obstinate wayward husband, she made even Sir Walter regret, that the only woman who knew how to govern a family was pushed into the back ground by a surly Petruchio ir.i.ch below her in talents. I do not mean to refer this whimsical decision to the god of love. When Cu- pid is fast asleep Caprice often steals his arrows, and c xeroises pertinacious veterans, and designing adven- turers, in a ridiculous game of archery. If the reader will not believe that a desire of talking of dead Sir Je- remiah, or a love for the living Emily, occasioned Lady Mackintosh to be a constant guest at the castle THE REFUSAL. 47 of Sir Walter, they must try to account for her con- duct from the circumstance of her having a small jointure and a great soul. Like many other ladies, she discovered that she was fit to move in an exalted sphere, and knowing she was capable of spending eight thousand a year, who could condemn her for wishing to obtain the means ? Scheming ladies, like skilfull ge- 1 nerals, are anxious to carry on their operations remote from the observation of the hostile party. Lady Mackintosh had opposed the introduction of Miss Mandeville to the castle, with a steadiness that almost shook Sir Walter's opinion of her extreme pliability, but no sooner was the young lady arrived than, with the most graceful versatility, she veered into a positive conviction of the propriety of her residing with her uncle, and was all gratitude and transport at the ac- quisition of such a companion. One reason for this alteration was her perceiving, that suspicion was not a •predominant feature in the character of her young 1 friend ; who was so little inclined to draw uncandid conclusions that the blooming widow often carried on her lines of circumvallation in the presence of the ex- pectant niece, without stimulating her to undertake the relief of the beleagured fort. Indeed, Emily had all that sovereign contempt of wealth, arid that abhor- rence of mercenary motives, which exist in those who have never found their enjoyments circumscribed by the want of means to procure them. She was the in- heritrix of all her grandfather Lord Montolieu's for- tune, except a small annuity settled upon her aunt Seli- na ; yet, with that perfect ignorance of the value of money, and disregard of self, which, when annexed to a good heart and a sound judgment, often ripen into true liberality, she never troubled herself to inquire how many thousands were inscribed upon her rent- -oll. She was only anxious to_ be of age, that she might make a splendid addition to the scanty incomev of her dearest friend. She however once ranked the possibility of being Sir Walter's heiress among the ^.igreeable contingencies of her future life, nor, while 7 E 2 43 THE REFUSAL. she felt the inconveniences attached to the immense damp rooms and stone galleries in the castle, did she lay any plan for its future improvement. Had she even been assured that all the widows and spinsters in the kingdom were assembled in full council, to debate on the expediency of attacking this same redoubtable fortress, and had actually named formidable generals to head the design, such was her opinion of the imprac- ticability and folly of the attempt that she would have remained quiet ; careless of the event, except as it might affect the happiness of her guardian. But though Miss Mandeville was thus, may I not say nobly, indifferent to the artifices of others, and in- capable of practising any herself, there was an engag- ing frankness and gentle tenderness in her manners and temper which soon insinuated into Sir Walter's good graces, maugre all the resistance of spleen ,and prejudice, or even the more dangerous commendations of Lady Mackintosh, could oppose. Emily sincerely valued her uncle's good qualities, and she pitied with equal sincerity the disadvantages and infirmities which fostered his caprices. Thus an internal feeling go- verning her expressions and looks, the former were always affectionate and the latter attentive. True, she never reached the hyperbolical praise which Lady Mackintosh liberally bestowed : but if she never was officiously solicitous, she never was negligent ; and so powerful is the charm of calm, uniform, patient ten- derness, to those who have never experienced any thing but the cold servility of mercenary attendance, or the wily cant of flattery, that Sir Walter very soon laid all his matrimonial schemes aside, and declared his gentle r.iece the heiress of his fortunes. In a few months, he found her accommodating temper, and anticipating at- tentions, so necessary to his infirm frame, that instead of being anxious to' rid himself of so troublesome a tharge as he had imagined a girl in the bloom of youth must prove to a worn out soldier, totally igno- rant of female wiles, his wish was to die in her arms. And he determined, that residence in Mandeville Cas* THE REFUSAL. 49 tie should be the first condition he would require of the man whom he entrusted with so great a treasure as he unexpectedly discovered his dear little niece really was. Tis true, he still thought female mischievous- ness should not only be circumscribed within the pale of wedlock, but be absolutely submitted to the rule of man. But general rules bend to particular occasions, and with such bright examples as Emily and Lady Mackintosh to enlighten his understanding, it is no wonder that he wished his niece's future consort would sometimes allow her to have her own way, as in that case he was sure she would be good to him. Thus, without any extraordinary endowments of na- ture, or any borrowed aids from art, the simplicity and affectionate sweetness of Miss Mandeville re- stored her uncle to his natural self, and from a peevish misanthrope, whose very benevolence and mean opi- nion of himself made him unhappy, and prepossessed him with the idea that he was a useless blank in the creation, the jest of wise men and the prey of knaves, the single circumstance of his having excited an inte- rest in one grateful heart reconciled him to himself and the world. " I only did my duty," said he, " in sending for my brother's orphan girl, and see what a blessing she is to me. My fortune was her's by right, and she is as thankful to me for saving she shall have it as if she were a charity girl. No, no, Emily is no cheat ; in my last fit of the asthma, when they thought me insensible and dying, I heard all that passed. Lady Mackintosh asked if I had made a will, and to be sure that was very considerate and good in her ladyship ; but I never shall forget how Emily sobbed over me, and said her dear, dear uncle was gone for ever." The few months for which Emily was invited to Castle Mandeville were passed, and Lady Selina be- gan to remind her niece that she ought not to press upon her uncle's hospitality. But Sir Walter's reluct- ance to part with his young companion had increased to such a height, that he privately sent that lady word that he would not give up his fair ward. When he had the 50 THE REFUSAL. gout no one placed his footstool in so happy a position, or roasted the orange for his night potion with such adroitness. . Her simple plaintive songs often charmed away both pain and peevishness, and he discovered that since she had presided at his table the conversa- tion improved, and the guests seemed happier, though he displayed less state, and they drank less wine. In, some few instances, he had not his own way so much as before Emily's arrival, but he almost thought the alterations she had imperceptibly introduced were im- provements, and so happy did he find himself with his lovely niece in the reciprocal exercise of acquies- cence and indulgence, that he began to suspect nature had really designed him for the fond husband and the tender father, and that his apparent moroseness was but the accidental incrustation of a benevolent heart, petrified at not having its own susceptibility met with equal warmth and frankness. But while he solaced himself with the thought, that without doing any ridi- culous action in his old age, or compromising his liber- ty or his < reputation, he had secured the society and affection of a sweet young woman, he never allowed himself to think of the deprivation Lady Selina must endure, who had reared the rose he now cherished on his bosom, and was compelled to surrender it when it became most valuable. His aversion to this lady still continued, and he considered Emily's virtues and graces as inherent qualities derived from the Mande- ville blood, which her bad example could not annihi- late. He onlv allowed this affectionate aunt the nega- tive praise of having made Emily's temper so sweet and compliant by the early trials to which she subjected it. Gratitude to her uncle for his affection and libera- lity induced Emily, with some reluctance, to inform her aunt, that she could not resist his wish to stay with him a little longer, that she really felt contented, and should be quite happy if she could hear her dear ma- ternal guardian had found some substitute for her so- ciety during the long dull evenings which were now approaching. If she could spend this one winter with- THE REFUSAL. Jl out her, she hoped in spring to find a little cottage near them, and that her aunt would permit herself to be removed from her cold gloomy habitation to the warm air and pleasant society of Devonshire. She also pledged her own reputation for veracity, that (whatever odd tales they had mutually heard of each other) she and Sir Walter would be the best of friends in a fortnight after they should become personally ac- quainted. Anxious to acquit my sisterhood of the charge of selfishness, so strongly urged against them by bashaw Benedicts, I must observe, that Lady Selina in her an- swer spoke largely of her o"-vn comforts and improved health. She rejoiced in the partiality of Sir Walter for Emily, and in her own satisfaction in his protec- tion ; and reminded her that she was now residing with her natural guardian, to whom her father had trans- I ferred his claim of duty. Without absolutely rejecting the plan of her own removal, she spoke of it as pro- blematical, and concluded with saying, that instead of i regarding him with prejudice, she felt warm admira- tion for Sir Walter. This business being adjusted, the winter amuse- ments of Mandeville Castle commenced, and as the state of the roads, and the migrations of the inhabi- tants to London, allowed a less frequent routine of vi- sits, back-gammon and reading took a larger share. The latter (except when Sir Walter was absent) was entirely limited to military studies; and as every re- corded siege or battle brought to the baronet's mind some similar incident in his own campaigns, and en- gaged him in a long detail of the corresponding cir- cumstances under which he had seen fields lust or won, Emily perceived that there was little prospect of finish- ing the thick folio which contained the triumphs of the great Duke of Marlborough, and lamented her want of relish for what was likely to prove a lasting entertain- ment. She had made herself complete mistress of back- i gammon, but Lady Mackintosh was infinitely the better ^commander, and could talk about ravelins, bastions. 52 THE REFUSAL. and counterscarps, and the method of drawing an ene- my into an enfilade, marshalling an army, storming a fort, and covering a retreat, with a precision which in- creased Sir Walter's admiration of her vast abilities. To say the truth, Lady Mackintosh was inclined to exercise her generalship upon poor Emily, who feeling a desire not to appear ignorant of what her uncle thought essential knowledge, sometimes attempted to quote Marshal Saxe, or to describe the battles of Cae- sar and Xenophon, but she knew so little about draw- ing up her forces that she fell into the first ambuscade her antagonist prepared for her, and lost the battle, at the instant she was describing how it was won. The good natured Sir Walter, often endeavoured to check her ladyship's laugh of triumph, with a " Pho, pho, well the child was mistaken ;" but her unaptness to comprehend a science in which he condescended to be her instructor, would soon have lowered his opinion of his young pupil's understanding, had it not been for one circumstance which is of importance to my narra- tive. I have premised, that "these military studies were il. lustrated by anecdotes, chiefly drawn from Sir Wal- ter's own observation ; and as in talking over the fields he had fought, the recollection of a strong attachment he then formed, forcibly rushed on his mind, and gave energy to his language, he soon fixed his niece's atten- tion, which, ever wandering from Churchill's anteda- ted wars, turned with so ardent a gaze on his counte- nance while he recited the engagements he had wit- nessed on the banks of the Elbe, and Scheldt, that she would next day give a clear account of the whole transactions. It never occurred to him that, in those martial representations, he generally introduced one portrait, Sydney earl of Avondel, whose then youth- ful arm rescued him at the battle of Minden from the sword of a Bavarian officer. He was under, lying, his feet unhorsed and wounded, in the momentary expec- tation of the exterminating blow, when the gallant Avondel, who acted as a volunteer in his companv, tUe refusal. 53 rushed upon the enemy, and preserved the life of his officer at the imminent peril of his own. Nor was this the only action in which the young earl had evinced his prowess and magnanimity. At least the gratitude and affection of Sir Walter trans- formed him into a hero equal to that of an heroic poem, who performs every important action in his own proper person. Was a redoubt carried with peculiar circumstances of gallantry, Lord Avondel command- ed the detachment. Were the intended measures of the enemy so clearly pointed out to the general that he was able to post his advanced guard so as to counter- act their designs j this only happened when Lord Avondel went on the reconnoitering party. He also uniformly took the standards, and led the pursuit. — The most distinguished prisoners that were taken had submitted to him, and his urbanity to the vanquished was always equal to his skill in gaining the victory. — Even when misfortune clouded the lustre of the Bri- tish arms, the name of Avondel continued to shine pure and resplendent, for Sir Walter described him as diminishing the horrors of a retreat, parting with every personal convenience to relieve the anguish of his sick and wounded soldiers, comforting the indigent widow, and protecting the destitute orphan. To these enco- miums the baronet added the praise of every gentle- manlike accomplishment and civic virtue. " I always was a blockhead," he would say ; " my aunt Dorothy never suffered me to be whipt when I was an idle lub- ber and tore my Accidence. Take me out of a camp and I know nothing, but Avondel is learned enough to be archbishop of Canterbury. He had too much sense to be a courtier, or no finical fop among them could match him for fine breeding. He has shone in the House of Lords, and when he was sent as am- bassador to any court he always did his errand. He had no business to turn soldier to hack and hew his way to a scanty maintenance, for he was the only son |of a noble family and I still hope, after all he has suffered these twenty years, he will, if he lives to 54 THE REFUSAL. come back to England, marry some worthy woman, and bring up heroes like himself." Miss Mandeville once asked her uncle to explain what sufferings Lord Avondel had undergone, but after expressing some surprise that she had never heard of his base usage, declared himself unable to tell the particulars, but added that it was a very infamous affair. An incident happened at Lime Grove the day be- fore Miss Mandeville left it which strongly impressed her youthful imagination. Anxious to present her niece with some token of remembrance before they separated, Lady Selina unlocked her casket of jewels, which were remarkably magnificent, in her presence, and the young lady's eye was instantly attracted by the portrait of a gentleman richly set with cliamonds. — The features beamed with the noble expression of dig- nity and beauty, and the costly enchasing intimated that it was the gift of peculiar attachment. Turning her eyes on her aunt, Emily discovered that the faint tinge of carmine which ill health had left in her coun- tenance was faded to the most deathlike paleness, while her lips quivered with concealed emotion. The only answer which she could articulate to her niece's ques- tion, as to the name of the gentleman, was, u that he was the first and best of men." " Is he dead," in- quired Miss Mandeville. " Perhaps he is," was Lady Selina's reply, while, with a trembling hand and averted eyes, as if she feared to indulge herself with a look, she restored the picture to its envelope, and adding, that he had been long absent from England, locked the casket and left the room. At their next meeting, Emily perceived her aunt's eyes were in- flamed with weeping, and she resolved never more to revive the painful subject. It so happened that Sir Walter Mandeville, in one of his .warm eulogiums on Lord Avondel, used the same exclamation of admiration that had burst Irom Lady Selina on Emily's discovering the mysterious picture, and with all that warmth of imagination which teaches young people to believe that to be true which THE REFUSAL jj is only possible, and also, that the object which occu- pies their own thoughts is the only one in the world worth contemplating, the amiable girl persuaded her- self, that this most distinguished of human beings, the celebrated Lord Avondel, was equally esteemed and loved by her two nearest relations, and was some- how connected with the melancholy of her dearest aunt. His eminent success in the East Indies had long filled the pages of the Gazette, and cheered the drooping spirits of the nation, depressed by the ad- verse and afflicting circumstances which attended the American war. One circumstance militated against the conclusion she had formed, the portrait was not dressed as an officer ; and surely a hero of such emi- nence would choose to have his likeness taken in the costume which he wore so honourably to himself and advantageously to his country ? If her uncle would but tell her all he knew respecting the -early history of his friend, the point of identity might soon be deter- i mined. Her utmost address, however, could discover no more than that Lord Avondel embarked in the pursuit of military fame in consequence of a severe disap- pointment, and most scandalous usage from a woman .to whom he was much attached. His debut in arms was marked with circumstances of peculiar splendour, and he rose rapidly to the highest honours. After the peace of Aix la Chapelle, he was entrusted with a special commission to a foreign state, and concluded a treaty highly beneficial to his country. He resided many years in Florence as ambassador at the court of the Grand Duke, and from thence went to one of our principal Indian settlements in the capacity of gover- nor, where his skill and courage in war, his justice and wisdom in the civil departments, and his univer- sal benignity and amiable manners, conciliated the na- tives, appalled the enemy, and raised the glory of his country to such a height as consoled her well-wishers, , and silenced the murmurs of faction, ever prone to If'mk heroic actions, while it loves to dwell on the mis- VOL. I. F 56 THE REFUSAL. deeds of those who scandalize the British name by in- justice and treachery. All this corresponded with Lady Selina's confession, that he had been long absent; but who could the lady be to whose baseness England might be said to owe her hero ? Certainly it was not her beloved aunt ; she was all honour and fidelity. It was impossible for her to behave scandalously to any one, and as she admitted Lord Avondel's excellence it was evident there could be no mistake on this occa- sion. Probably then (for when complete information was denied, Emily could only reason upon probabilities) Lady Selina was the chosen friend of Lord Avondel, and as such treasured his memory, and lamented his wrongs, though her own resignation of the world pro- ceeded from some other cause. True, it was singular, that among the many anecdotes of distinguished peo- ple with which she enlivened their evening tete-a-tetes she had never told her the history of this injured wor- thy ; especially as it was of such publicity that her uncle seemed to wonder she had never heard it. — Doubtless her dear aunt .had excellent reasons for her silence, yet, whatever they were, Emily felt all know- ledge was vain and unattractive compared to the nar- rative of the wrongs which " this first and best of men" had suffered from a woman. [ 57 ] CHAPTER III. " Tis not the dress or mien my soul adores, " But the rich beauties of a British mind." Shenstone. THOUGH Miss Mandeville had by this time dis- covered, that, either owing to forgetfulness, or, as some would say, to great poetical powers, (for a cer- tain coarse word must never be applied to the commu- nications of a lady) the narratives of Lady Mackin- tosh were not strictly correct, not always so much alike as to enable one to discover she was talking of the same people whose adventures she had painted a week before in different colours, she could not help apply- ing to her, as an historian would to old Geoffry Mon- mouth when every other author was silent. But here her ladyship also was dumb, though she pleaded igno- rance in such a manner as convinced Emily " she could a tale unfold." Her ladvship was one of those won- der-makers who are so often met with in society, and who seem to consider conversation, " not as the feast of reason or the flow of soul," but as the celebration ot an ancient game, where every one contends who shall shoot his arrows and hurl his quoits farthest. — Like the giants of old, they consider truth as a Jupi- ter, and pile Pelion on Ossa, and Ossa on Olympus till they erect a pile to defy its omnipotence. If, to avoid sinking into total insignificance in such companv, you venture to sport what you think a Patagonian bouncer, they instantly create a full grown Brobdig- nag monster to oppose it, and your pigmy marvel at last looks only like Gulliver on the lap of Glumdal- clitch. With the propensity to deal in prodigies, and with such an untold mystery to relate, as the story of Va man of sense and courage seriously affected by love, 58 FHE REFUSAL. what influence ' more potent than the rod of Hermes could chain the voluble tongue of Lady Mackintosh ? They know little of the disposition of youth who suppose its imagination is circumscribed by meeting with difficulty and opposition. Sir Walter h;;d begun to expatiate in praise oi his friend .dining the first week of his niece's residence with him, but it was not till the inundation of company had subsided, and Emily discovered that there was something in the story which she could not know, that she gave up her whole thoughts to muse on Lord Avondel. The interest she took in his glory was highly grateful to her guardian, who, by applying to her, received correct intelligence when the overland despatches were expected. It had had lately been whispered, that in consequence of a change in administration, letters of recal had been sent to India, and Sir Walter consoled the feelings of the patriot by indulging those of the friend. "lie will certainly visit me," said the veteran, " if he Uvea to come home, and these old walls shall ring with joy when he enters my gate. I'll have an ox roasted, and we will tap the pipes of cyder saved for poor George's coming of age. All the country shall be called in, and we will go out to meet him with such a cavalcade as has never been seen since my grandfather met and feasted the king's army after it had beaten the duke of Monmouth at Sedgemoor. Girl, you shall see such bonfires and hear such rejoicing's ! That's the way we old soldiers welcome our brave comrades. We shall talk over our campaigns, but pray don't you put in with foolish speeches, for I can tell you my lord has an utter aversion to ignorant people." Roasting an ox, broaching pipes of cyder, calling in the tenants, and talking over campaigns, do not sound like amusements which a girl would prefer to Rane- lagh and the Opera : but Emily's education had given her somewhat of a romantic turn, and it is certain the chance of seeing Lord Avondel was one unacknow- ledged motive for her continuing so perfectly satisfied with her present residence. The probability- of that THE REFUSAL. 59 desired pleasure was regularly discussed in the family- party after the arrival of the newspapers, but these faithful registers, or rather let me say predictors, of events, never suffered hope and fear to hang long in equipoize. One day Miss Mandeville read with ex- ulting hope, " The cabinet council sat yesterday till a very late hour. The subject in deliberation is kept a profound secret, yet we have learnt from high authority that the Earl of Avondel is recalled, in consequence of an arrangement which the premier has made with Lord Lurcher Rackrent. A frigate is prepared to take his lordship to the settlement, and the ministerial influence in the lower house will be strengthened by the addition of six boroughs. The displaced noble- man is to have the vacant blue ribband to bind up the wounds of honour." The next day's post brought the following intelli- gence. " We hear the arrangements respecting Lord Avon- del's removal from his viceroyalty are suspended in consequence of strong representations having been sent over by the principal inhabitants, intreating the continuance of a nobleman whose conduct has reflected the highest honour on his country and himself, and in- creased the resources of that important colony to au incredible degree. We must enter our protest against bartering the safety of the empire for ministerial pre- ponderance, and the infamous system of close bo- roughs. If the events of the Savoir vivre are unpror pitious, Lord Lurcher has still some unfelled woods, and timber sells well." The next week's intelligence took a shorter form, " Lord Avondel's recall has long been determined upon. A magnificent house has been taken for his lordship in Grosvenor square, which is preparing for his immediate reception." In a few more posts appeared an alarming article : " Great fears are entertained for the safety of the St. ' George East Indiaman, on board of which the Earl of $ F 2 60 THE REFUSAL. Avondel and suite are known to have taken their pas- sage for England." The terrors of the Mandevilles only lasted till the next day, when fear subsided into disappointment on reading, " We are anxious to relieve the apprehensions of those whose friends or relations embarked on board the St. George, by announcing the safe arrival of that ship in the Downs, after an expeditious and prosper- ous voyage. She brings no intelligence of Lord Avondel." It was on the 11th of January, 1779, that Miss Man- deville read with indescribable rapture the following imposing paragraph : " Yesterday, at a late hour, Sydney Earl of Avon- del arrived at *the Hummums, after an absence of twenty years from his native country. A vast con- course of people assembled to testily their admiration of his eminent services, and to gratify their curiosity by gazing on so distinguished a personage. But with that elevated modestv which always accompanies su- perior merit, his lordship eluded observation, and after gracefully bowing to the -populace, who greeted him with three cheers, he retired to an inner apartment. The hotel was watched till a late hour, but his lordship was not visible, and it is suspected he is gone into the country to avoid those distinctions which his deserved popularity must acquire in an age so destitute of really great men. We were fortunately near the carriage when his lordship alighted, and are happy to report that the fatigues and dangers he has undergone have not injured his personal appearance. His fine figure and elegant deportment enabled us tb recognize him at the first glmce. Without meaning to reflect upon our contemporaries we must do ourselves the justice to say, that disregarding all floating surmises and vague reports we have given the earliest and most correct information concerning the course which ministers in- tended to pursue with this celebrated nobleman." As Emily was hastening to announce, that at last the truth was known, she met her uncle, whose couu- THE REFUSAL. §1 tenance was illuminated with a flush of extraordinary ijoy which he had great difficulty in restraining, while Emily read the above paragraph. Before she had con- i eluded, he snatched the paper out of her hand, and with a hearty curse on the lying dog of a printer who :flew from India to England backwards and forwards i faster than a cannon ball, vowed such trumpery should i never enter his doors again. He then gave his niece ; a letter with this exclamation, " See girl, this from himself, 'tis the very writing of the real Avondel." u Falmouth, January 9th, 1779. " Dear Mandeville, " The inquiries of an alienated exile on revisiting I his native country, generally suggest the most painful | sensations. The wandering life I have long led has of Hate years prevented me from forming strong attach- ments and I now find most of my early friends either i dead, or changed in situation and character in a degree that must prevent me from renewing those dear con- nections the image of which has so often solaced mv 'wounded mind. Amid the melancholv or disgraceful details which I have heard since my arrival of those I I once loved, it has given me infinite satisfaction to find i that my brave friend and companion in arms, Colonel Mandeville, now sees his well-earned laurels flourish in the venerable mansion of his ancestors, and still re- tains all his native warmth of heart, his unpretending integrity and benevolence. Convinced it is your first wish to make others happy, I congratulate you on pos- sessing the power. " You are the same Mandeville as when first you won my confidence and esteem, but I am only the iwreck of Avondel. I landed at this place ten days ago, with a determined resolution to devote the re- imainder of my eventful life to privacy and reflection. II have seen enough of public measures and public ;men to confirm the sentence, that vanity and vexation jever attend high desires. Shall I accuse the species, ipi which I form a part, of universal ingratitude and 52 THE REFUSAL. treachery, or shall I say that some malignant fatality has ever haunted my steps, and taught me to seek for my reward in the feelings of conscious rectitude, ra- ther than in the attainment of those objects on which I had fixed my ardent wishes ? " Do not, Mandeville, call this frank avowal of my present sentiments, a muffled drum sounding a dead march over defunct ambition. The greatest favour administration could confer upon me was my recall. I love retirement, my health requires serious attention to recover the injuries it has suffered from unwholesome climates. I have been overwhelmed with ceremony, deafened with adulation ; henceforth I shall live to myself. I trust I shall be excused from personal at- tendance in London. My secretary can tell ail I have done, if the state in which I have left the settlement I governed requires any comment. He also can deve- lope my future plans, should my successor deign to inquire what they were. The formality of a court life is insupportable, and I scorn to accept any reward. You, honest, noble-minded Walter, will not blame me if I own, that though my patrimonial estate was very inadequate to my rank, I close my active career in the sinie honourable poverty in which it was commenced. I have not despoiled the golden musnuds of India, the mines of Golconda have not soiled my hands, nor will I now barter the riches of an independent soul for wealth purchased by unprincipled submission to the transient pageants of power, or by a similar opposition to the measures of those who direct the helm of state. That steady integrity which has hitherto directed my course, shall ever be my leading star. I have enough for honourable privacy, for philosophical ease, for cir- cumspect benevolence. An unconnected man must be avaricious if he desires more. " I find, Mandeville, you still continue one of that free and happy fraternity, who, being accountable to no tribunal but the laws of their country and the re- bukes of conscience, laugh at the long stories of hopes and fears, promises and rebukes, doubts and disap- THE REFUSAL. 63 pointments, which compel married men to be fortune- i hunters and levee-hunters, blind idolaters of insolent .importance, or dumb slaves to female caprice, vanity, and folly. The subject animates me, for it recalls to imy mind the evening previous to the glorious day of JVIinden, when we mounted guard together, and when vou relieved the anxious tediousness of that night by i« lively euiogium on the superior advantages of our idestiny compared with those who felt the immortal ! longings of the hero repressed by apprehensive terrors (for indigent widows and destitute orphans. If, while preparing our minds for a speedy termination of our mortal career in the field of honour, we felt it as an alleviation of our lot to consider, that we had no near i connections to suffer for us, should we turn cowards inow and shrink from the idea of a life passed in soli- Itude, without one being to stimulate our exertions, ex- cite our hopes, or mitigate our woes ? Have we de- voted our youth, strength, health, and talents, to be- come insulated creatures, of whom fame talks largely, but affection is silent ? If there was error in the choice, rrepentance comes too late. We will preserve ourselves from ridicule by never believing that we can excite af- fection, and if we are not happy we will assume the decency of content. ** I know not, Mundeville, whether the vacant life of a country gentleman have made you as much a philosopher, as confinement on ship-board, and six months of inaction, have made me a misanthrope, or whether you still continue the cheerful blunt fellow you were when I visited vou in the hospital at Ravensburg ? Without allowing me to mention your own sufferings, ■you then only asked me the fate of your comrades, and the movements of the enemy after that successful effort of British courage. If time has done much to chill the noble ardour of your heart, fortune has been equally busy in deepening the susceptibilities of mine. I shall winter at Bath, having been advised to try the teffect of those salutary waters. I trust you will soon fjoin me there. We shall meet as fellow soldiers used- '64 THE REFUSAL. to hard conflicts, and still called to contend, not with the enemies of our country, but those domestic ty- rants that invade the little kingdom of man ; I mean those proud regrets and keen sensibilities which tell us we deserved a happier lot. Farewel much respected Mandeville. " Believe me, "faithfully your's, " Avondel." There are young ladies, pretenders, too, to preci- sion, enthusiasm, and tenderness, who would have found all their admiration of a returning hero subside on perusing such an indubitable testimony of his being poor, neglected, ill, and unhappy. But Miss Mande- ville was not one of those who require the nodding plumes and velvet train of prosperity to designate me- rit. Her compassionate tears fell over those bursts of wounded feeling which reluctantly spoke a dejected heart. And grasping Sir Walter's hand, she exclaim- ed, " dear uncle, what can be done to reconcile Lord Avondel to the world?"" "i^h," exclaimed the sympathizing veteran, drawing his hand over his moistened eyes, " you cannot make the world good enough to satisfy such a mind as his. I wish you had seen him, Emily, when he rode up to Lord Granby's quarters, and asked leave to use his sword in the allied army. He was the finest looking gentleman I ever beheld ; but there was much of deep thought and melancholy in his countenance. He sup- ped with Prince Ferdinand that night; we had him af- terwards at our mess. Sometimes he would sit quite silent, and the'n burst out in such a manner! No man ever had so much wit, and when h- ry and diplomatic orders. An air nobly majestic, a manner peculiarly graceful, and a countenance which, notwithstanding the cadaverous hue of sickness, spoke ■with sublime expression a feeling and exalted soul, announced that this was the earl of Avondel. His introductory address to Emily was equally flat- tering and refined. He spoke of his impatience to thank her for her goodness to his most valued friend: nor did he then hurry from her with the air of one who has said a fine thing. He seemed to wait her re- ply, and it was not till he perceived she was incapable of making one, that he left her to recall her scattered thoughts, and moved round the circle shewing himself to be as expert in versatile politeness as in the more energetic language of peculiar esteem. He then plac- ed Ills chair near Emily, and conversed with that res- pectful ease and general attention which soonest van- quish too timid delicacy. Sir Walter rubbed his hands in ecstacy, nodded significantly to his old neighbours, and smiled at their wives and daughters with a sort of silent bustle which indicated the difficulty he had to restrain his own raptures,- and his unwillingness to di~ \ crt the attention of the company from the wonder he had introduced. Admiration soon succeeded to terror in the mind of Emily, while she considered how dif- ferent Lord Avondel's manner was from any she had ever been accustomed to. " Other men," thought she, "by officious gallantry, study to display their <;wn attainments, but the compliments of Lord Avon- del inspire* me with self-respect. Certainly he is the first and best of men. O shame upon an unthankful world that he is not the happiest." The ease of general conversation which this " king of courtesy" contrived to substitute for that apprehen- sive reserve, which thirty years ago predominated in country parties, gave Miss Mandeville new opportuni- ties of" admiration. As his attentions were every thing but oppressive or presumptuous, she had ventured to observe his features, as well as his words. Time had THE REFUSAL. f$ given his appearance all the grandeur of manly digni- ty, but slightly marked with symptoms of approaching decay. His eyes beamed with the keenest intelligence, and they seemed to derive additional lustre from the furrows of reflection deeply engraven on his brow.— The general expression of his countenance was thought- ful majesty, but a smile lighted it up into ineffable be- nignity. She fancied he often suppressed a sigh from a kind determination not to check the hilarity his pre- sence inspired, or abate the delight of his host, whose looks continually repeated with exultation, " This is the man who saved my life." " I wonder," thought Emily, " how with so much innate grandeur he has contrived to infuse so much frankness and vivacity into our party. We were all trembling with awe before he entered, and now all but myself are quite comfortable. I wish I durst speak to him, he will think me an absolute fool. Surely he cannot be uncandid, he cannot put such harsh con- structions on the effect of true simplicity as my uncle intimates." The day closed, and Emily still continued wishing but unable to remove the unfavourable impressions which she felt assured her reserve must make on her noble guest. Indeed, if she could have subdued her own terrors, the fixed attention of Lady Mackintosh would have chilled her presumption. Even when she retired to her own apartment, hoping to ruminate at leisure, that mirror of propriety, faithful to her duty of duenna, glided after her to develope her sentiments concerning the stranger, " This is extremely imperti- nent," thought Emily, " but I will be guarded." " I hope, my love," inquired her ladyship, " your expectations concerning our noble inmate are quite an- swered ?" " Perfectly so," returned the young lady, with an air of nonchalance to mislead sagacity. " And you do think him the most wonderful won- der of wonders that ever was wondered at ?" " Yes, the very greatest." 1/ 74 • THE REFUSAL. " What a discerning young creature," said her la- dyship laughing. " But Sir Walter has seen very little of the world, and is so fond of the extraordinary." " I quite agree with your ladyship." " The earl is very high, but a phoenix you know is allowed to be proud. Do you think him so very, that is, superlatively handsome ?" " Proud, handsome ! I did not much observe him, madam." " O, Miss Mandeville, is this candour and since- rity ?" A bright thought shot into Emily's mind to turn the tables on her persecutor. " If I did look at him often," said she, " you must abide the result of a severer scrutinizer than I am, for I protest he was always gazing on your ladyship." " Piqued, by all that is fretful," thought the fair widow, not much displeased at having the observation she had already made thus confirmed by the jealousy of a rival. " My love," said she, pressing Emily's hand, " you know he might as well be gazing on the cold splendour of the watery moon. Come, you only rally ; I heard the elegant compliments he addressed to you." " As the relation of his fellow soldier, madam ; I am not the vain self-important girl to suppose, that so awkward a novice as I know I appeared to day could have any independent claim to the compliments of a man like Lord Avondel. He saw me the niece of Sir Walter Mandeville, and every mark of respect he paid me was a delicate tribute to friendship." u Delicate tribute to friendship ! Such a man as Lord Avondel ! This young creature's heart is in a fine way," thought Lady Mackintosh ; " ladies of her stamp of character always grow more kind in their expressions as they intend to be more provoking." " Why, I confess my dearest love," said she, " I nev- er saw you appear to so little advantage, nor so ill dressed, as to day. You coloured, and stammered, and fluttered your fan, instead of carelessly playing THE REFUSAL. J" 5 with it, thus. And, as the poet said, the feast was sold not given, for instead of twice pressing the guests to eat, had it not been for me every body would have sat with empty plates. I don't mean to distress you, but indeed you never answered Mr. Cheerly when he asked you to take wine, and you sent turtle to Sir Humphrey Cramwell without one morsel of green fat. I was very sorry for the poor girls, knowing he would go home out of humour, and one of them said she was sure you were not well. But I will go there with you to-morrow and make an apology. " It will save him one oath," returned Emily, " when the gout pays him its next visit. But indeed you must bear the blame. Your manner and appear- ance so struck Lord Avondel, that he was continually taking up my attention with questions about you, and, to frustrate any hope he might have formed. I at last told him, that though in compliment to the day you had cast off your weeds of woe, and appeared all ease and gaiety, you were absolutely inflexible on the point / of a second attachment." 11 Oh," said Lady Mackintosh, relapsing into the do- lorous, " I could not help thinking as I sat at table, how different Sir Walter's present idol is from that friend I shall ever deplore. Sir Jeremiah's was true humility, true good nature. He had no artifice, no stately hauteur. He never strove to seem above every body else. Good night, sweet Emilv, peaceful be thy slumbers. Alas ! my thoughts will be in the mauso- leum." Miss Mandeville almost wished her person there also, as she secured her door against any further intru- sion than the very unpleasant reflections her faithful friend had introduced respecting her embarrassment. It grieved her that it had actually been observed by the company. Yet none but very illiberal people could think it extraordinary, that a young lady bred in re- tirement should feel distressed at playing the hostess on so public an occasion, and for the avowed purpose ft of doing honour to a man of Lord Avondel's celebrity 76 THE REFUSAL. and nice discernment. If the hero of the day still pos- sessed great personal attractions, he was at least old enough to be her father ; and is a man of forty-two, neither gay nor fortunate, so very irresistible, or was she so prompt to love, that no cause but a wish for conquest could be assigned for the confusion of a girl of twenty, heiress to many thousands ? For the first time in her life she wished to know how many, and whether they were equal to the support of a very splendid establishment ? She then veverted to the remainder of Lady Mack- intosh's observations. , Were pride and craft so con- spicuous in Lord Avondel as to be discerned by a shal- low observer, and yet appear to her in the commenda- ble form of dignity and wisdom ? His superiority was so indisputable that it seemed not even to require the support of defensive warfare. It was evident he could not receive information from any of the company, yet occasionally he played the listner's part with a grace which proved he saw no danger in condescension. He introduced no topic with a view to self aggrandizement or display, and highly grateful as his attentions were to those who received them he seemed more anxious that no one should be pained by his disregard. Proud men are fond of flattery. If Lord Avondel were proud how abundant was his caution and self com- mand, for he received every compliment with such noble negligence, that neither his words, look, nor manner showed he regarded praise. Emily however remarked, that whoever had been very particular or happy in their eulogiums received from him in the course of the evening some appropriate and elegant re- turn, or was allowed an opportunity of appearing in a favourable point of view. What discrimination and discernment did such behaviour evince ? Compare him to Sir Jeremiah Mackintosh, absurd ! 'Twas plain such a woman's remarks were not worth regarding. " And yet," said Emily, " he is not happy, 'lis rankling grief, not time, that has engraven those deep furious on his awful brow. With every amiable. THE REFUSAL. 77 every exalted quality he is wretched. What must the ■world be, if even an Avondel could not pass through it without enduring the shipwreck of his peace ? My dear aunt Selina, too, with all her virtue and goodness, is unhappy. Is sorrow the unavoidable lot of great talents and strong feeling? O that I could shelter my orphan head in safe obscurity ! What wretched com- panions shall I find ignorance and susceptibility." She now recollected the picture she had seen at Lime Grove, her view of it was very transient ; it represent- ed a man in the bloom of youth, ruddy with health, and animated with joy and hope. Time and change of circumstances, added to indisposition, must have made such an alteration that the picture could no longer re- semble the original. The expression in the eyes, however, was similar, and so peculiar, that she more than ever wished to know her aunt's early history. Sir Walter's exuberant joy was as troublesome to him as her perplexity was to Emily, and alike indis- posed him for sleep. They met early in the breakfast room. The enthusiasm of the baronet acted as a pow- erful panacea to cure all his maladies, and he fought over his old battles with unusual vivacity. He soon came to the never wearying tale of his own preserva- tion, and had just lifted the sword of the Bavarian of- ficer when his champion entered. Emily's eyes were filled with tears, and her uncle was not sufficiently at- tentive to the scruples of delicacy to avoid explaining their source. But the polished earl spared her blushes, by not perceiving anv compliment to himself, while he warmly commended the piety which made her thus af- fected at recollecting the danger of her guardian. He intreated Sir Walter to avoid a subject which her ten- derness could not bear. To overcome the cry of " No, no, 'tis not so," which the good baronet loudly vociferated, he entered into military details which soon engrossed the attention of his old companion in arms. The Havannah was taken, and the heights of Quebec scaled, in description, till the war-worn soldiers forgot \ / that they had any female auditors j and Lady Mack- 78 THE REFUSAL. intosh, provoked that the battery of a new morning dress, mounted for the occasion, had done no execu- tion, whispered Emily, that it would look improper if they staid too long with the gentlemen. But Sir Wal- ter had no mind that they should retire. A project had taken possession of his imagination, and with him, the very "firstlings of his thoughts always became the firstlings of his hand." " Why, my lady, why, Emily, you are not going to run away from us, so pleased as you are to hear about battles and sieges ? I assure you, Avondel, that girl is in her heart a soldier. She has listened for hours to my account of the campaign of 59, when you had a command in the second brigade, and she can repeat by heart the despatch you sent to England at the conclu- sion of the Mahratta war." " I highly respect the patriotic spirit of the ladies," returned Avondel, " but if they honour our pursuits with their attention, justice requires we should not be so self-engrossed as to trespass on their social claims. May I have the happiness, Miss Mandeville, of at- tending you on your morning excursion." Emily, recollecting her uncle's interdiction against trotting a hero round the plantations, or parading him among the neighbours, was silent. "My sweet friend," said Lady Mackintosh, "suf- fers from the recollection of some minute oversight yesterday, and proposes calling on the friends she has displeased by way of concession." She then, in the kindest manner imaginable, informed Sir Walter of his niece's mistakes and negligencies. Unquestionably she had no intention to check his exuberant good hu- mour, and she owned it was conjectured that her dear love was dying with the head-ach. But the hospitable Baronet was peculiarly irritable on this subject ; for as one of his grand objections to the society of ladies was, that they limited good cheer and circumscribed conversation, by expecting it to be addressed to them- selves, so he tolerated their company when they were frank and unassuming, and not only covered the board THE REFUSAL. 79 with plenty, but pressed "the mantling goblet and the rich repast" on the diffident. " And has Emily affronted any of my friends ?" in- quired Sir Walter. " Not absolutely affronted. Come, you must not be so warm ; the dear timid creature is sufficiently pained by her own feelings." Lord Avondel observed, that in an affair so truly arbitrary, it was much to be lamented an ingenuous mind should abandon itself to the impression 'of pain- ful feelings. ** The conclusion I drew from Miss Man- dev die's behaviour," said he, " was, that the style of hospitality I so much admired at the European courts I have visited had happily been imported into England during my absence, and banished that ostentatious im- portunity which for ever reminds us that we are visi- tors. In the first circles on the continent you sit with the same ease as by your own fire-side. The only dan- ger is, that as you enjoy all the comforts of home, it is possible you may omit some of those expressions of gratitude to your entertainer which the ceremonious intreaties of some English ladies continually remind you are expected by way of payment." Sir Walter looked at Lady Mackintosh, and observ- ed there was good sense in my lord's observation. Her ladyship answered, that she could not assent to a sys- tem which condemned the mistress of the house to act the part of nobody in her own family. " Much depends en the manner in which a case is stated," said Lord Avondel." Suppose we sav she sits with the benignant serenity of. a goddess, and re- ceives the voluntary homage of those who enjoy her bounty." " Is it an unfair inference," inquired the lady, " to ask, if your lordship means to represent Miss Man- deville as the Goddess of Devonshire r" •* My creed," rejoined the earl, " rejects all local divinities, it equally abhors all undue humiliations and painful penances; and I deny the necessity of Miss \/ Mandeville's practising supererogatory acts of conde- I . vol. 1. 11 80 THE REFUSAL. scension. I flatter myself that such friendship and sensibility as you possess must be gratified by hearing, that what your fears deemed an omission really was a happy refinement." Lady Mackintosh doubted whether the earl was a man of superior discernment, or only ironical; while Emily thought she should in time be quite at ease in his company. " He is all benignity, all goodness to me," was the remark which she made on this con- versation. " He takes care that I shall not be oppress- ed, either by his own commendations or the unkind- ness of others. Would I had such a protector ! how safe should I be under the guidance of so much wis- dom and goodness." Sir Walter took an early opportunity of sounding his friend on the project to which I have already alluded. He determined to lead the conversation to Emily in rather an oblique way, and expressed his gratitude for the verv great care and affection which Lady Mackin- tosh shewed her. Lord Avpndel answered dryly, that their attachment did indeed seem very extraordi- nary. "• But Emily is a very extraordinary girl," was Sir Walter's reply. " Considering how few opportunities she has had of improving herself, I assure you she is very clever. She knows nothing but what she has learned from me and her ladyship. Her fortune is now four thousand a year: besides, I have declared her my heiress." Lord Avondel continued silent. " We think her tolerably handsome," said Sir Walter. The earl only said he did not consider himself a good judge of beauty. The baronet resumed. u She has however the beau- tics of the mind, and I am certain she will make a ve- rv valuable wife ; for I must own I am an altered man since she has lived with me, and a happier too, though she limits me to a pint of wine, and has the ragouts spoiled that I may not eat of them. She has almost broken me too of being in a passion, for I cannot bear THE REFUSAL. 81 to see her look miserable. I begin to think you and I were too harsh when we gave up women to the devil without any exceptions." " Don't make me a party in your imprecations, Man- devilie." " Well, well, you looked what I spoke. But I was thinking as you now mean to fix in England I should advise you to marry." " Nothing would so much enforce your advice as your setting me the example." " Pshaw, I am not in jest, you are twenty years vounger than I am, and neither maimed nor crip- pled." " Except in my mind and fortune." " Well, a good-tempered wife with an ample dower would repair those maladies. I tell you again I am serious, and I wonder a man of your good sense and courage should never have sufficient resolution to" "What?" 4< Tear a worthless woman from your heart." Avondel started; he struggled for self-command, yet could only say, " Avoid that subject." A pause ensued ; the well meaning Mandeviile blamed his own temerity, and pressing the eari's hand, begged his pardon. " You have taken me by surprise," said the earl. " It is not my heart but my memory which prevents me from enjoying peace. I am not the puling, slave oi love, but keenly sensible of my early wrongs. As a proof, I have forborne to make any inquiries after the person to whom you allude. I know not whether she exist. I hope never more to hear her name ; yet I owe her an obligation. She shewed me her fickle sex in its most consummate duplicity, and thus taught me to avoid their snares; I have never been deceived since." ** She was the only woman in the world who could have used vou basely." " And also the onlv one whose conduct could rive 82 THE REFUSAL. me pain. But she had many advantages to second her innate power of tormenting. I was young, sanguine, credulous. It was a first attachment; I had a thou- sand romantic ideas of paradisaical bliss. Mercenary match-makers would have said I conferred an obliga- tion. There was a simplicity, a purity, an aln'iost su- pernatural sweetness — Walter, I cannot bear to think — I am not always thus puerile. My return to England has suggested ideas of happiness, of domestic bliss"— 41 Which might still be yours r" " Say how ? you think my fortunes desperate, but I never can consent to espouse 'One of those archetypes of idiotism or deformity, whom fortune perches on a golden pedestal, to attract the mercenary devotees, who call avarice love, and then wonder that they are wretched.. My wife must have many recommenda- tions besides possessing sufficient acres ior my mainte- nance. She must have generosity to approve my frankness, for if ever I form an honourable connec- tion, the basis on my side must be the most unreserv- ed and unqualified confidence." " Weil, blow yourself up if you please, only suppose yourself a lover." u You must first find me a woman with such wealth as mv wants require, and sufficient merit to engage me in the task of wooing her with some wish of being successful." " I think all this very possible." " Suppose me then giving a decent air to my bank- rupt fortunes and shattered figure, the shadow of my former self. Conceive me studying to be agreeable, and courting her society till we were sufficiently ac- quainted for me to hazard my proposals, without ap- pearing impertinent." Sir Walter rubbed his hands. " All- very well, my dear Lord, now for your proposal." "■ It requires some effrontery to state the prelimina- ries even to you. The lady must possess youth, wealth, personal agreeableness, elegant manners, a placid temper, a superior understanding, (rated on the THE REFUSAL. 33 female scale) an improved taste, and a liberal heart. She must also have a decided preference for me. I will then tell her, that I have encumbered mv patrimo- nial estate by heedless acts of private partiality and public munificence, by which I have made myself many implacable enemies, who hate the giver and deny the gift. I will tell her loo, that as nature has unfitted me for the tool of a minister, or the herald of faction, my fortunes are, as respects myself, irremediable. I will tell her the fatigues I have undergone and the in- salubrious climes I have inhabited ; that I have engen- dered many diseases which, though thty do not indi- cate early death, presage a more insupportable evil, a joyless, unthankful, unvalued life. And I will finish my recommendatory address with saying, that the soul to which this fabric is attached is fretted by a long un- availing contest with injury and neglect, that I am dis- gusted with the world and dissatisfied with myself. I shall doubtless succeed in persuading this young, amia- ble, affectionate imaginary to pass a life of solitude, chagrin, and solicitude with such a misanthrope. The scheme is feasible, Mandeville. Find me the woman who will be proof to this, and I will make her the faithful partner of all mv cares." The blank look of disappointment which Lord Avondel gradually introduced into Sir Walter's coun- tenance deepened into despair before he finished his description, and with a peevish " pshaw" the baronet added, that he would reconcile any old maid in the kingdom to celibacy by such a style of courtship. u But," said he, 4< Avondel, you never shall persuade me that this is your right and true self. Who that saw you the other day all life and spirits, when the room rang with your praises, and the heads of all you spoke I to were turned, would suppose you to be a bankrupt bashaw, a melancholy humourist, a crustv invalid." Lord Avondel assured his friend that this was really 1 his every-day garb, and that whenever he w r as pleasant he had a masquerade suit on. H 2 // 84 THE REFUSAL. " The disguise," added he, " is painful, and I rejoice, my good old friend, that you promise we shall live in a quiet domestic way. I shall lounge over your grounds., look at your pictures, study the architecture of your castle, and enjoy that indolent delight which I have long sacrificed to the vain hopes of doing good to others." The office of Cicerone was allotted to Emily, who now resolved to summon sufficient courage to convince her illustrious guest that she was not that rara avis, a lady dumb from choice. But she soon found herself in a most polite manner sent back to her original mo- nosyllables. Her slender knowledge of the fine arts was lost in the superior intelligence which she address- ed, and while his lordship seemed to acquiesce in her criticisms, he introduced opinions which corrected her mistakes. In compliance with her uncle's commands, she one day seated herself at her harpsichord and attempted a canzonet, but the conviction that she was a very indif- ferent performer, exhibiting her talents to a connois- seur, made her fingers weaker and her voice more tre- mulous. Yet Lord Avondel appeared to listen, leaned on her chair, turned over the pages of the music, prais- ed her taste in selecting from the most approved mas- ters, and asserted that when she had acquired more self-confidence she would be a very pleasing periormer. How kindly encouraging, and yet how nobiy sincere. She rose with exultation to oiler her seat to Lady Mackintosh, who, with coy reluctance, and all that prettv affectation which attends superior skill, suffered herself to be overcome by the intreaty of the company* and attempted " Love's a gentle generous passion.'' But die difference between real and pretended timi- dity is, that as the former always supposes itself capa- ble of exercising more self command than at on emer- gency it finds possible, so the latter is apt to forget its disguise from the eagerness with which it listens to commendation. Lady Mackintosh warbled, quavered, mounted, sunk, flourished, and introduced every grace, THE REFUSAL. 85 till she was interrupted by a violent fit of coughing which unfortunately seized Lord Avondel. Water was called for, but the best specific was the silence of the syren. Every attempt to speak renewed his Lord- ship's danger, and to avoid suffocation he was obliged to change his intended compliment into a most courtly bow. But the paroxysm had been so oppressive, that it was not till the conversation turned to something very different from music that Lord Avondel recovered his powers of utterance ; and I presume a man of his high breeding would have thought it indecorous to revive a subject that had been so fully discussed. Time only served to confirm Miss Maude ville's ve- neration for their guest. She saw elegance in all his actions ; honour, dignity, and profound wisdom, in his sentiments. With equal wonder and delight she per- ceived a hero condescend to trifle, and adopt that style of small talk which is very unjustly called lady's con- versation. But though Hercules held the distaff at the court of Omphale, the lion's skin lay ready to be put on, while the demi-god gracefully reclined on the sofa, discussing the propriety of female ornaments or criticising the exercise of female ingenuity. She ob- served with pleasure, that though every common-place civility and trite compliment was addressed to Lady Mackintosh, his more refined attentions were paid to herself. Master of every modification of polite de- portment, he was never reduced to the degrading ne- cessity of being unpolite to avoid being insincere. She was convinced he saw her duenna's foibles : she was persuaded he must dislike a character so opposite to his own ; but he made no insidious attempts to betray her to behave ridiculously, a popular species of wit since known by the name of quizzing. The effulgence of his own social talents needed no foil to increase their lustre. He looked on envy and affectation with the pity of a superior mind, and he scorned to extort that preponderance to which he deemed himself entitled, by proving the bankrupt state of mental poverty. Emily believed herself a more important being from 86 THE REFUSAL. having spent a fortnight under the same roof with Lord Avondel ; yet she could not recollect any proof of his attention which age, dependence^ or deformity, would not have received from so complete a gentle- man, if placed in her situation. " And what," said she to herself, " should I wish for more. Weak, vain, confident girl ; did I suppose Lord Avondel likely to be susceptible of my faint at- tractions ! He who his travelled from court to court, and seen whatever is great and fascinating in every climate, was he to preserve his heart from the charm of elegance and the lure of beauty to surrender it to a poor ignorant country girl, awkward and unformed in mind and person ; one who blunders whenever she tries to be grateful, and even renders herself more disgusting when (actuated by that preference which would else do honour to her judgment) she attempts to be very agreeable ? True, Lord Avondel never laughs at me, but then he is too well-bred to laugh at any one. If he thinks me more to be tolerated than Lady Mackintosh it is because he prefers natural ab- surdity to artificial." Sir Walter's conclusions were very different. He narrowly observed Lord Avondei's behaviour to his niece, and to his own mind determined it to be so very lover-like as to promise success to his project of -uniting the preserver of his life with the heiress of his for- tune. I must admit, the respectable veteran was so much of a novice in the laws of gallantry, that the common decorums which the habifs of polite life then required from polite gentlemen to ladies, seemed to him quite courtship enough to win the Empress Queen* TIk reader will also renumber, that I am speaking of those obsolete times when beauty had not been so well trained and disciplined by male nonchalance as to start up at the beckon of a distant partner, who dumbly signified that he condescended to endure the fatigue of lounging by her side down twenty couple, without dis- concerting the fixed stupor of his high-bred melancholy by one speech or smile. Thirty years ago it was not THE REFUSAL. 87 expected that the leading men of fashion should loll on the ottomans with the self-contemplating quiescence of an eastern sovereign, while ladies of the first dis- tinction declared they were dying to sit down ; nor did women of real character allow these bashaws, when they broke silence, to accost them with language fit only for the haram. It did not forward the success of a virtuous amoroso to talk of former scrapes and de- bauches, and a wife would not send compliments to her husband's chere amie without being thought sple- netic instead of pleasant and obliging. And though Lord Avondel did not adopt the then country fashion of flying alter the lady with a chair for fear she should not be able to see one, or overturning the mandarins, and maiming the lap-dogs, through extreme eagerness to prevent a beauty from deranging the architecture of her tete by stooping to pick up her fan, he certainly shewed as many attentions to Emily as would furnish enough of the tender for a dozen modern marriages, and to convince her uncle that the sly girl had capti- vated the noble soldier. As Sir Walter had not formed his military tactics by the system of Fabius, it is not surprizing that his domestic arrangements always marched in quick time. No sooner had he persuaded himself that Lord Avon- del was as much in love as became a man of his under- standing, than he resolved to try if his niece meant to play the very woman by starting a few whims. He might indeed have trusted to his own penetration, for he read enough of her heart to discover her preference, without extorting from her the confession of a predi- lection, which (however commendable) is always cruelly distressing to female delicacy to acknowledge. Miss Mandeville's character was frank and ingenuous, equally ardent and steady in her attachments, and ti- unicl from inexperience and want of self-confidence. ' Little address was necessary to extort its bosom secret jfrotn a heart thus fashioned, especially when the in- Lquirer, her respected guardian, told her he knew iLord Avondel admired her, and their union was the 88 THE REFUSAL. favourite wish of his heart. Sinking on her uncle's shoulder, she welcomed the intelligence with tears of surprise and joy, and after expressing some fears that she never should deserve such good fortune, confessed the whole happiness of her life depended on Lord Avondel. Then recollecting herself, she shrunk with terror from the discovery she had made, and extorted a solemn promise from her uncle not to inflict an incu- rable wound on her delicacy by a premature discovery of her affection to its revered object ; a promise which he readily gave, and they parted mutually satisfied with each other. [ 89] CHAPTER V. " It is most just "When women sue, they sue to be denied. " You hate me, you despise me ! you do well. " For what I've done I hate and scorn myself. " O night fall on me ! I shall blush to death." Young. THOUGH Sir Walter was resolved to abide by the promise which he had given to Emily, he thought there would be no harm in just sounding Lord Avon- del, to know how he stood affected. A cautious lover might want a little stimulus, but as to his niece's se- cret he knew women always made a parade about those things, and therefore he would be very guar- ded. He soon found a good opportunity for making his attack, as they enjoyed the sunshine of a fine frosty morning in one of the southern apartments. " I don't mean, my lord," said he, u to ask for compliments, but I must say you are grown at least twenty years younger since you have been with us." u My health," replied the earl, " is wonderfully improved, thanks to your early hours, salutary springs, relaxation from bu- siness, the absence of physicians, and those tempe- rate habits which you sav your Emily has intro- duced." " Your Emily has introduced !" Very good, indeed, thought Sir Walter. " And I hope" said he, contin- uing his attack, " that our society has done you no harm ; you seem to enjoy it. This you know is li- berty castle, but I observe that instead of sta\ ing in the library, which you would have all to yourself, or stroll- > ing about alone, you are generally with the ladies. //Talk of turning hermit on vour own estate, indeed! 90 THE REFUSAL. why you are more cut out for a family-man than any one I ever saw. I always told you, though I was an ass in company, you were born for society." " Will you always insure me such society as I find in Mandeville castle V? " Yes," replied the abrupt baronet, " if that would make you happy." Lord Avondel sighed, and was silent. " On my soul, my lord," continued his warm-heart- ed friend, u I wish the castle were yours. I never should have lived to possess it but for you. You have won it by your sword, and by heaven it shall be yours." " Sir Walter, how rash and unjust !" " No, not unjust, I tack a little incumbrance to it." " My generous friend, I will not affect to miscon- ceive your purpose ; but as you are a man of sense and principle, subdue this extravagant impulse of gra- titude. It is unworthy of you in every point of view. Any common trooper would have rendered you the same service which my situation enabled me to per- form, and you put an undue value upon a chance ben- efit to require a young lady to reward it with such a sacrifice." " A sacrifice, Avondel ?" " Yes ; recollect what I have before told you of my circumstances and temper." u But if the girl thinks differently r" " I will not hear such a suggestion. If I were such a coxcomb as to believe it possible that the young lady was interested in my favour, I would quit the castle immediately. I equally .abhor taking advantage of your romantic generosity, and of the inexperience of an amiable heiress. My enemies shall never have the opportunity of saying, that having vainly tried the path of ambition, I found female susceptibility a surer guide to opulence, especially when a sybil of twenty held the golden bough." " Fine talking," said Sir Walter, swinging his foot with a discontented air, " who is romantic now t — Keep yourself poor and miserable, indeed, to please THE REFUSAL. ijl the world, who if you were rich and gay would be very fond of you ! I want to know, sir, what objec- tions you have to my Emily l n " None. The point between us is, she ought to make strong objections to me." " Pshaw ! What if I were to say — Well suppose she makes no objections ?" " Again I must peremptorily forbid you to use such language. The delicacy of her manners convinces me that she would never volunteer her affections, and the disparity of our years and habits makes it impossible I should be her choice if she had the liberty and the power of selection. I perceive your drift, my friend : the whole proposal springs from your partiality, with which Miss Mandeville esteems it her duty to com- ply. She is a prize to which most men, circumstanc- ed as I am, would direct their attention ; but by the untarnished honour of a soldier I swear, I have be- haved to her with the same sacred chariness of affec- tion as if she had been my daughter. I have attempted neither to inflame her fancy, nor to warp her judg- ment. I have neither disguised my own faults, nor magnified her attractions. I have never asked myself if her fortunes would repair the waste of mine, and her sympathy heal the wounds of my excoriated heart. I have beheld her as an insulated being, fenced round by every bond of hospitality, honour, and regard for her future good ; — as one with whom I could never form any tie but that of friendship ; and my wishes for her happiness are as pure from any intermixture of self as your own. I again repeat, if the riches of her ancestors were trebled in her portion, I would not renounce the gratifying integrity of my present feelings, for the degrading consciousness that I had taken advantage of your attachment to me to make those riches mine." Sir Walter, who felt very indignant at what he con- strued into a contempt for his niece, was softened by 1 this explanation ; and holding out his hand as a sign U VOL. I. I 92 THE REFUSAL. of reconciliation exclaimed, " you are a noble fellow Avondel j I don't know what to make of you." " You shall make any thing of me," replied the earl, " but an avaricious doating coxcomb, who persuades himself that a lovely girl is grown enamoured of his sallow visage and formal figure. If I have now con- vinced you, that it is not the variable opinion of the million but the lasting reproaches of my own heart, that I fear, I will not order my chariot, which I was on the point of doing a few minutes ago." The gentleman separated, Sir Walter, much dis- concerted, at perceiving his favourite plan suspended by an objection which, had it been started by any one else, he would have called an artifice ; and Lord Avon- del, fully resolved upon taking an early opportunity to leave Castle Mandeville. The alteration in the behaviour of the gentlemen soon became apparent to Emily. Sir Walter had lost his exuberant good humour and hilarity ; the dinner became ill-dressed, the claret tasted of the cork, he rated his" butler, and kicked his old spaniel from the hearth-stone. Avondel" was silent, and absent, or talked to Lady Mackintosh. " I am betrayed," thought Emily, " and rejected; I never can survive this degradation." She took the earliest opportunity to ask her uncle, if any thing had passed between him and Lord Avondel ? Sir Walter at first answered, " nothing to the purpose ;" and then owned that he had sounded him, but could make no- thing out of him. " How cruel," said Emily, " has been your kind- ness, but I will shut myself from the world forever. You have taught Lord Avondel to despise me." Moved at this unusual emotion in the gentle Emily, Sir W T alter intreated her to be patient, and assured her Lord Avondel had a high respect for her. " No, Sir," continued she, " I will not be beholden to his pity. Proud and magnanimous as he is, I will not have him persuaded to accept me." THE REFUSAL. 93 " No fear of that," said Sir Walter, " the man is as stubborn as a mule. He will not be persuaded." " And have you stooped to intreat him ?" said Emi- ly, " have you offered me, sir? have you acknowledg- ed my folly ?" The baronet grew warm, " a pretty scrape have I got into here to be rated on both sides ! Plague on your fine feelings and nice notions, say I. What had I to do with them ; I did not want to marry myself ; and here one raves because I want to force your in- clinations, and the other because I cannot manage him. I tell you, girl, Lord Avondel likes you well enough, I can see that, but he wont marry you." " Dear sir, but you have not discovered my attach- ment?" " If I had, I tell you it would have done no good. The world would say he married you for your fortune, and you would see somebody you liked better, and a vast deal of high-flown trumpery, and no sound rea- sons." Sir Walter p?.l*sed, and at last exclaimed, " 'tis a noble fellow after all." Emily, 'vh°se indignation had hitherto suppressed her tenderness, now burst h?*» tears. Her uncle felt for her distress, but like manv impetuous people, his way of shewing compassion -was by being out of humour. To comfort her, he assured her that she had acted very imprudently ; that women ought to wait till men declared their intentions ; and he concluded with lamenting the dilemma in which he was placed, adding such an encomium on his friend as almost justified Emily for indulging a premature attachment. " If," said she to herself, " my passion be but con- cealed from the object of it, or if he have but great- ness of soul enough not to despise me for mv venera- tion of whatever is noble and good, I will' not only submit to his rejection with patience, but I will feel a sort of elevation on account of that preference, which ' I will ever cherish. My dear aunt's fears for me on ''my introduction into the world are now obviated 94, THE REFUSAL. She need not dread the mazes and allurements of the rake or the worldling. The heart that is devoted to an Avondel'is guarded against every wile, and proof to every temptation. From principles of exalted ho- nour, he may refuse to partake my fortunes, but in wish, in purpose, in entire devotedness of affection, I will ever be united to his." She now considered what would be the best method of confirming his delicate: generosity, and at first re- solved to assume a more cold and distant manner, but though she was unread in tales of love, her heart told her this was the behaviour which strong affection fell into so naturally that it could not be called a disguise. She then determined to be very gay, and to flirt with all the male visitors ; but recollecting that she 'was ill at deceit, she feared her laughs would become hysteri- cal, and her flirtations end in tears. Besides, was it possible to impose upon a man of the earl's penetra- tion ? Could she bear to degrade herself in his eyes, or to lose the good opinion he professed to entertain of her sense -and delicacy, by levitv. f^ 11 r-^uetrv ? No, she would trnc* - - . '_"-*"*/' , .,, Y 1 "" -« , r U:i. ■ L •— . «-o nature only, and if she could Zl c xcite love would not deserve contempt. > Affairs continued in this state a few days, which happhy being devoted to company, relieved the irk- someness of Emily's situation. It gave her, too, an opportunity of observing Lord Avondel's behaviour when he mixed in society, which presented the same bold but correct outline. Whether the learned, the polished, the upright, or the worthy came in contact with him, he still appeared better informed, more ele- gant, more disinterested, more benevolent. He has lefused me," said Emily, * yet still he is the first and best of men." . . c The family-party, were standing round the fire one evening, discussing the events of a visit from which they had just returned, when Lady Mackintosh blunt- ly asked Lord Avondel's opinion of the master of the house ; and not satisfied with a general answer, inquir- ed if he considered him to be a man of penetration. THE REFUSAL. 95 " Certainly," replied the earl, " he is shrewd and sagacious." " And did your lordship remark what he said was the best way of supporting falling fortunes?" " It was unlucky," replied the earl, " that I should be inattentive to what I might have found useful infor- mation." " O, I can repeat it. He said, when a gentleman was quite worn out by disappointments with one sex, it was right to direct his attention to the other. No- thing is in general so easy as a matrimonial specula- tion." The remark was sufficiently easy to be under- stood, but she pointed it by a significant glance at Emily. For the first time since he had resided at the castle, Lord Avondel was embarrassed. He had long dis- covered Lady Mackintosh's latent maliciousness, but the superior effrontery of this attack roused his resent- ment, and excited his surprize. He was too generous to look at the blushing and almost fainting Emily ; re- collecting his wonted self-command he turned a firm and indignant eye on her tormentor. M And did he not proceed to name the star that would guide a diffident wooer to certain success ?" " He left that to the penetration of the person for whom his advice was designed." " Trusting, I presume, that he was acquainted with the story of the Ephesian matron. I will trouble you, madam, to return my compliments with many thanks." " My dear Emily," said Lady Mackintosh, recover- ing from that sort of hysterical laugh with which she always affected to conceal boiling anger, " you don't seem to relish raillery." " 'Tis because, said his lordship, still avoiding to look on the trembling girl, " Miss Mandeville fasti- diously requires some requisites in humour with which your ladyship dispenses. But I recollect why you are thus severe upon me. I promised you a song this morning, and I hope discharging my debt will restore to you your wonted attribute of mercy." Emily's harp 12 96 THE REFUSAL. stood in the room ; he flung his hand over the chords with a minstrel's fire, which he accompanied with the following stanzas. Woman, dost thou seek to gain A captive worthy of thy sway, List the minstrel's holy strain, It breathe's not flattery's preans vain, But truth's severer lay. Warp not beauty's angel form By affectation's vile grimace, A temper free from passion's storm, A heart with gentler virtues warm, Must fix the triumphs of thy face. Tho' that face like Hebe's glow, Tho' in each act the grace's beam, Tho' o'er thy lands Pac'tolus flow, Tho' India's di'monds gem thy brow ; Nor wealth nor beauty wakes esteem. She asserts her sex's power Who scorns by borrowed aids to shine, The woodland lily's pensile flower Transported from its native bower. Shall round the crest of glory twine. Lord Avondel bowed to Emily, and contriving that the same obeisance should civilly glide to Lady Mackintosh, retired the moment he had finished his song. Emilv was incapable of conversation, and Lady Mackintosh too much mortified to sanction Sir Wal- ter's encomium on his friend's vocal powers.- He had been engrossed by the old bachelor privilege of knock- ing out the fire by way of improving it, and did not attend to the previous altercation, therefore he did not discover any peculiar meaning in the song. Miss Mandeville's reflections this night were pecu- liarly soothing. The earl's manner of supporting her from Lady Mackintosh's coarse raillery was as delicate as prudery could exact, as warm and generous as love could require. " Surely," she began to think, " he cannot be quite indifferent to me. If compassion to THE REFUSAL. 97 me, or a keen sense of indecorum, prompted his se- vere rebuke to Lady Mackintosh, he need not to have obliquely complimented me as the drooping lily. He is superior to the pitiful arts of male coquetry. I think he does not dislike what he has seen of my cha- racter, but wishes to investigate it more clearly before he commits his honour and happiness to my trust. 'Tis mine to shew him that I can be as firm as I have been precipitate, and that I silently model my manners according to his ideas of excellence, in time he must love me as the reflection of himself, at least he will if he resembles other men. But how difficult is it to win a heart which is proof to all the snares of selfishness, whether they assume the shape of avarice or vanity ?" Emily met Lord Avondel with unusual familiarity in the morning, but found him stiffened into more in- vincible reserve. Lady Mackintosh recollected that she had been defeated, and resolved to attack her ene- my now he seemed less able to dispute the victory. " I hope, my lord," said she, handing him the cho- colate, w you did not suffer from your extraordinary exertions last night. I fancy you combined the old characteristic of the minstrel ; poet and musician, I mean." " I only sung a translation of one of Lady Paulina Monthermer's canzonets, madam." " Indeed, but you gave it a most superior effect by your expression and look." " Again I must be just to the author, and affirm, that I am not able to give even a faint idea of the commanding influence this [composition received from that lady's voice, manner, and person, when she spoke it as an impromptu at the Marchesa Cagliani's conver- zatione." " And pray who is this extraordinary lady ?" M An Italian improvvisatrice, madam, but not a professed one. 'Tis a talent she occasionally exercise* to delight her friends. Her father was a noble Flo- rentine, and she is now the wife of general Monther- mer, head of the military department, and member of 98 THE REFUSAL. the supreme council, at the settlement of which I was governor." " Young and handsome, I suppose ?"- " Her appearance is still very youthful. Her mother was a Greek lady, and Paulina's features and person exhibit that symmetry and commanding beauty which one may suppose inspired a Phidias and an Apelles." if Bless me, my lord, and accomplished too?" " In the highest degree ; upon the whole, complete mistress of every art of fascination." " I am afraid," said Lady Mackintosh, " we must say, poor General Monthermer ; such a wonderful wife must be hard to manage, and I think we English ladies ought to feel piqued at this decided superiority being given to a foreigner." The earl declared he was ready to be judged by Emily, whether he had said any thing to pique a truly English lady. Emily replied, that they ought to respect his lordship for being just to merit of every description. " If," said she, "we may judge of Lady Paulina by the specimen you have given us of her sentiments, she claims even higher commendations than those you have afforded her." Breakfast being over Emily rose to retire. Avondel pressed her hand to his lips, and with an air of grave respect thanked her for all her goodness to him. How unusual was this address. Confused and silent, she followed Lady Mackintosh, who had already left the room. " I have a pu'-nful part to perform, my good friend," said the earl to Sir Walter. " It is to thank you for your noble hospitality, and to bid you farewel." " Impos " returned the baronet, "you shall not stir." " My carriage waits at the gates. I durst not trust myself to your importunities, till I had arranged every thing for my departure. When I tell you that impe- rious duty calls me hence, and whm I most truly assure you that the weeks I have spent here have been the THE REFUSAL. 99 happiest I have long known, you will only say, go and do what you ought." M Is it public or private business that calls you from us?" " A mixture of both. I received a despatch la?t night. You must not urge me." " But when will you return ?" " That depends upon circumstances I cannot com- mand. My affairs at Avon park call for immediate inspection, and I fear they will long require my pre- sence." Sir Walter paused, and then exclaimed, " what shall I do with my poor little Emily." Though he uttered this rather as an ejaculation than by way of asking ad- vice, Lord Avondel took occasion to point out an error in his treatment of that young lady. " She will be one of the first fortunes in the kingdom," said he, " and she is now arrived at an age when it is proper to form a suitable establishment. Do not therefore con- fine her from the society in which she ought to mix." " Whv, don't I take her every where ?" resumed the baronet. " The Mandevilles 'always lived splen- didly, and I keep open house. I give dinners to the hunt, and invite all the officers. We visit every body within twenty miles, and she goes to all the concerts, races, and balls, my four horses can drag her to. And to jell you the truth, one reason why I have my Lady Mackintosh here is to go out with her, for she has very good health, and is not afraid of having her neck brok- en over our hills by moonlight." Lord Avondel smiled. "Transplant your fair charge," said he, " to London : that is the sphere in which the heiress of two illustrious families must in future move. Let me add, suffer her to shine without her attending satellite." " Why Lady Mackintosh knows the world." " The' world is a vague phrase, my good friend, and often intimates a narrow limit. Of this I am persuad- ed, Lady Mackintosh's world affords no attractions for f your good little Emily." 100 THE REFUSAL. " I observe," Said Sir Walter with a sigh, " you and her ladyship seldom agree in your opinions." " We have moved in different circles," replied the earl coldly, " but let us confine ourselves to a subject infinitely more interesting, the happiness of Miss Man- deville." " Pshaw ! Avondel, that cannot be interesting to you, or you would not behave as you have done." " Sir Walter," returned the earl, would you not think it unjust to persuade your niece to sign a deed which transferred her estate to a stranger, without fully ap- prizing her of the legal consequences ? It would be still more unjust to entrammel her person by an indis- soluble connection, before she had ascertained the ex- tent of her pretensions, or exercised the powers of discriminating between various pretenders. A fox- hunting debauchee, or an adventurer in a red coat, wil- ling as they might be to wed your acres, cannot offer your niece a heart worthy her acceptance. Even such such a one as myself may deserve her preference, op- posed to such rivals. Shew her men of rank and fa- shion, of years, tempers, and fortunes suitable to her own, and suffer her unbiased judgment to decide. When a chaperon is wanted choose one who has dis- cretion and address, not an incumbrance in the shape of a protectress. The dowager of our iate general, the Marquis of Glenvorne, strikes me as one who would be a real friend and able adviser. I knew her and her son at Florence ; you can need no introduc- tion to her, and Miss Mandeville will soon gain her favour." " Why our estates join," exclaimed the baronet. " Indeed," replied Avondel, and suppressing a sigh added, " that is fortunate, the young man is worthy and amiable." Sir Walter now silently contemplated the figure he should make in London parties, and wishing for some further inducements to reconcile him to his own outre appearance, asked if he should see Lord Avondel in town r THE REFUSAL. 101 " Nothing can be more uncertain than my destina- tion,' 1 replied the earl. " But cheer up, my brave ve- teran. No one is ridiculous who walks uprightly in the path of duty. You have not feared balls and bul- lets, you have stormed camps and castles, and are you appalled at the shafts of ridicule, or afraid of the mis- sile deaths which lurk in the frowns of an incensed dowager at a card-table when you have lost the odd trick ? " I remember the time," said sir Walter brightening at his friend's raillery, " that this very Marchioness told her friends, I might if I chose be a very fine gen- tleman." " I fear," said the earl, rising, " 'tis too late in life for either of us to change our characters, let us then endeavour to preserve them untainted." He sighed deeply as he spoke, and wringing his friend's hand em- phatically exclaimed ; " Fareweli may Miss Mande- ville's sun rise auspiciously and your's set with tran- quillity." " You will lenve us, then ?" said Sir Walter.— " Stay till I call Emily." " I have taken leave of her," replied Avondel, and hastily threw himself into the chariot. This sudden departure produced universal dismay ; but if Miss Mandeville read in it the destruction of her newly excited hopes, she also received from it a confirmation of her long-cherished passion. His part- ing advice, which, with his wonted frankness, the baronet communicated to her, exalted his character to an eminence which almost seemed fabulous. She could no longer hope, and scarcely wished her attach- ment to be concealed from its object, for she felt that her delicacy was safe in his guardianship. The adroit- ness with which he had avoided a formal adieu, which must have made her partiality more conspicuous, the concern he expressed for her welfare, the care he had taken to preserve her from those improprieties which i attend inexperience at its first introduction into the // world, by recommending her to an adviser of such X02 THE REFUSAL. untainted reputation and fashionable celebrity as the Marchioness of Glenvorne, all argued such disinte- restedness and magnanimity, that she almost wished every sentiment of her heart were entrusted to his consummate generosity. " Surely," said she, " he is an exception to the proverb, that men always des- pise an easy conquest." Though her former expectations of the pleasures a London winter affords, had changed to indifference, not to say disgust, for any scene in which Lord Avondel did not appear, she determined to urge her uncle to exe- cute the plan he had advised, with a secret hope that this compliance with her hero's advice would intimate her entire devotion to his will. She sometimes thought this excursion was proposed merely as a trial of her constancy, and she was willing to stake the future hap- piness of her life on the durability of her attachment. If any thing agreeable was connected with the idea of her journey, it was being delivered from the so- ciety of Lady Mackintosh, who had been more desi- rous to secure herself a future establishment and pre- sent accommodation than to prevent Emily from forming improper connections. Her zeal to prevent the young lady's introduction to her uncle had, indeed, apparently changed to violent professions of attach- ment, but she always saw in the acknowledged heiress a Hushai come to defeat the counsels of Achitophel. The attractions of real gentleness and sincere tender- ness are never so strongly felt, as when they are con- trasted with plausibility and over-strained suavity. — Sir Walter soon shewed a preference for his good lit- tle girl, and the former favourite, discovering that the present could only be displaced by a permanent con- nection, craftily endeavoured to betray her into one which would eventually degrade her in her uncle's eyes. The characters which Lord Avondel alluded to in his speech to Sir Walter, were therefore encouraged to become bold pretenders to the heiress of Castle JMandeville, though their manners were too common- place, and their mode of attack too mean, to deserve THE REFUSAL. jqj being recorded in this narrative. Suffice it to observe, that even diffidence possesses some degree of con- scious dignity, and simplicity is not quite destitute of discernment. The manner in which Emily treated Lady Mackintosh's worthy friends was not unnoticed by Lord Avondel, than whom no one better under- stood, or more strictly enforced the laws of female de- corum. Disappointed in her own views of matching her friend to some worthless fortune-hunter, who would reward her for the introduction, Lady Mackintosh next considered if she could turn the young lady's visible predilection for Lord Avondel, and Sir Walter's anxie- ; ty to accomplish a union between his niece and friend, ( to her own advantage. This event, she knew, must considerably diminish the golden harvest of which she had once entertained such sanguine hopes, but she thought that by narrowly watching the marriage writ- ings she might secure to Sir Walter the power of making a good settlement. To this purpose, in all her tete-a-tetes with him, she pathetically lamented the evil consequences of present possessors fettering them- selves with such legal ties as prevented them from im- proving future contingencies. No one, she said, knew how a match would turn out. Manv people were not what they seemed to be. There was no tolling what at some future time we might want ourselves ; and lastly, uncles and fathers were never so respected as when they kept the staff in their own hands. The uncommon turn of Lord Avondel's character prevented Sir Walter from profiting by these sige con- clusions. He had absolutely declined opening his arms to receive a charming girl who adored him. Emily then was doomed to singleness, ot course would never quit her uncle : and Lady Mackintosh must di- rect her artillery to some less-guarded citadel, as she was not one of those who are willing to waste their lives in a hopeless siege. It happened, fortunately, that a lady of her acquaint- [\ ance was in momentary expectation of the arrival of VOL. I. K 10 4 THE REFUSAL. her son, who, having long possessed a lucrative appoint- ment in India, was desirous of enjoying the fortune he had acquired by taking a wife and forming a splen- did establishment. It is well known that a dowager can- didate for hymenial advancement, who, like Addison's widow, means to have a settlement in every county in England, somewhat resembles an universal philanthro- pist. " Rutilians, Trojans, are the same to her," and her heart can vibrate from soldier to sailor, from the landed to the mercantile interest. She had heard that Mr. Caddy intended to marry as soon as he got to Eng- land, and she resolved she would no longer waste her Circassian bloom, or frizzle her auburn caxon, among the insensibles. The day after Lord Avondel's departure, she in- formed Sir Walter how much she regretted, that she was not able any longer to deny Mrs. Caddy's request of meeting her long absent son. The baronet, thus happily relieved from the difficulty of intimating to a lady, that she must shift her quarters, declared. his vex- ation at finding he must remove too, as business had called him and Emily to London. Lady Mackintosh now offered to defer her visit till his return, as her physican had prescribed London to her this spring to restore the elasticity of her nerves, which had been un- braced by sorrow and confinement. No hint was given that a trio would be acceptable to the Mandevilles ; and though she also recollected, that the world might think it indecorous in her to throw herself in the Na- bob's way, Emily never assisted her delicacy with one request that she would continue to act as her guardian. The friends therefore separated, but I must record Lady Mackintosh's parting benediction : " Conquest attend you, my dear love, and may you find the jessa- mines less impenetrable than the greybeards."'' [ 105 ] CHAPTER VI. " I blush to think what I have said. " But fate has wrested this confession from me ; " Go on and prosper in the paths of honour, " Thy virtue will excuse my passion for thee." Addison. MISS Mandeville recollected that her correspond- ence with her aunt had been suspended during Lord Avondel's residence at the castle, and she resolved to renew it previous to her departure on her London ex- pedition ; she accordingly addressed to her the follow- ing letter. " To Lady Selina Delamore. " Castle Mandeville, February 18th, 1779. " Our plans are again altered, my dearest aunt. Sir Walter is determined to shew me London. He has taken a house in Berkky square, where we are to con- tinue till the end of May. I must not think of leav- ing him, but I hope to be allowed to spend part of next summer at Lime Grove. " We have had a most interesting visitor at the cas- tle, of whom, when we meet, I shall have much to say. If the world resembled him, it would not be that intri- cate and dangerous labyrinth which all who have trod- den its mazes describe. For myself, the first wish of my soul is retirement. I know I am unequal to the busy conflict of public life ; the envious and malicious will wound my heart, the confident will oppress me. I know not which I shall most feel, the sarcasms of others, or the self-reproach which my errors and inad- vertencies will perpetually excite. I wish this Lon- ' y don introduction were over, and that I were again un- 106 THE REFUSAL. der your kind protection. Of one thing, however, be assured, my. heart is perfectly safe from- the assaults of fops and libertines. It has aimed highly, my dearest aunt, and now it is invulnerable ; and who that has had an opportunity of observing you can attach ridicule and discontent to the single state, or uselessness to re- tirement? True, you are dejected, but I will never be- lieve your sorrows are the result of folly or miscon- duct. I will not press you upon a point on which I have often heard you say you could not be communica- tive, but the hard treatment which you and other wor- thy people meet with, is one reason why I hate the world. " But I shall forget one principal reason for writing to you. It is to ar,'c if you know the Marchioness of Glenvornc ? I am to solicit her protection. I have lately taken a dislike to chaperons and female friends : I mean such as one generally meets with, not to siu h a friend as she who took me into her care, a wayward, sickly, neglected orphan, who cherished me with in- cessant attention, and to whose wisdom and goodness I owe the few commendable qualities I possess. " My uncle lives in too hospitable a style to allow me to cultivate accomplishments. I send you the only drawing I have been able to finish, but I must explain its history. A gentleman was praising the lily of the valley, and said it was worthy to twine round the crest of glory. It was only in a song, my dear aunt, so there was nothing in it ; but I thought the idea was elegant, and I wished to embody it. But pray don't suppose the figure of glory like this gentleman ; in- deed it has not the most distant resemblance. The performance is wretched, but you will value it as mine. « Write to me, my dearest aunt, and inform me most particularly of yout own health and spirits. Re- member me to the two doctors, to Wilson, and all your little suite. I am afraid they would not now call me the sprightly columbine. It is this excursion which so depresses my spirits ; yet I must go. My uncle's af- fection for me increases every hour, and I revere his THE REFUSAL. 107 integrity and untutored worth. Yet, my best friend, I now more particularly need the soothing tenderness with which you always treated your ever gi-ateful and affectionate " Emily Mandeville." There needed no ghost to tell Lady Selina, that the medium through which her niece now looked at the world was a mist raised by that knave Cupid ; or to connect the interesting visitor with the figure of glory, which, though laboured with all Emily's little skill, was not sufficiently like Lord Avondel to be recognised by an old acquaintance. Lady Selina's anxiety for her beloved girl was, however, much relieved by hearing that she had aimed highly, and she trusted there was so much meaning in the allusion to the lily, that her dear Emily would soon find she lived in a very tolerable sort of a world. She was convinced of her rectitude, pru- dence, and delicacy, and highly approved the wisdom, as well as the kindness, of Sir Waiter's intention of introducing her to the circles in which she was born to move. It was a scheme which she had long meditat- ed, nor were ill health and broken spirits the only ob- stacles to its execution. Years of seclusion had robbed her of almost all her early connections, and from the few by whom she was remembered Emily would reap no advantage by appearing under her auspices. Knowing that there is no surer method of confirm- ing an attachment than to argue against it, Lady Selina took no farther notice of her niece's chagrin than to ascribe it to some little perplexity arising from Lady Mackintosh, ol whose impertinence Emily had for- merly complained. " London air, my love," said she, " is an excellent specific for the spleen, which is en- gendered by associating with country gossips, and I am convinced Lady Glenvorne will soon remove your disgust to chaperons. You will find her the true wo- man of fashion ; polite, liberal, correct in her princi- ples, av.d engaging in her b« haviour. I will not depre \ ciate the advantages, disguise the inconveniencies, or 108 THE REFUSAL. deny the duties of celibacy, or retirement, but the very circumstances of our existence tells us, that few people can live entirely lor themselves. At your age, Emily, I little thought I should have passed through life unconnected. With gratitude to Providence, I acknowledge the many comforts I have experienced, but, as far as temporal felicity is considered, my lot has been much less enviable than lady Glenvorne's, who was once my intimate companion. Nor can I, in the fulness of my affection, wish }'ou better fortune, than to be united to a man who resembles the deceased Marquis in every thing but his early death. " You are not wrong, Emily, to aim highly, in every sense of the word ; for though rank and fortune are not synonymous with happiness, if we are. born in an elevated station we cannot innocently submit to self-degradation without some most urgent reasons. We ought not, then, to indulge ourselves in using common-place invectives against the infelicities which we discover in our lot. It has been chosen for us by a Being Infinitely good and wise, who does not expect from the prince the mechanical industry of the manu- facturer, or from the children of rank and affluence the contemplative exercises of a recluse. The fortune of your ancestors has devolved to you to call you to a life of benevolence, generosity, and exertion, and in choosing your future partner you are bound, not mere- ly to consider, whether he be pleasing to yourself, but also, whether he be disposed, to act as a righteous steward of those valuable talents which you will trans- mit to his trust? We are not, I conceive, at liberty to point out the situation in which we should have been happier, unless it be one that we have forfeited through our own vice or folly, and then we may allude to it as a humiliating source of self-reproach, not as a topic of discontent. Every class in society, and every indivi- dual in each class, has his peculiar trials and tempta- tions, virtues and vices, jovs and sorrows. The pee- vish wordling, and the religious enthusiast, looking only at a part, falsely determines the world to be the THE REFUSAL. 109 don of misery, and its inhabitants a mass of depravi- ty. The liberal and the devout see much of real en- joyment in this life, and in their fellow creatures many remains of that original perfection in which their spe- cies was created. We indulge our passions, my love, till nothing but uninterrupted happiness will suit our craving appetites. We set out in life expecting others to pay us the same attention which self love tells us is our due. Our fellow travellers are instigated by simi- lar motives. Competitors for fame or fortune justle, and then become enemies, and we afterwards quarrel with our contemporaries because they too much resem- ble ourselves. " Do not, my dearest Emilv, dislike the world from a supposition that it has injured me. I am in most perfect charity with every creature ; nor do I take to myself any merit in this ; for I have nothing to com- plain of. My lot has been singular. I have been called to sustain hard trials. I have fallen far short of the submission which I ought to have exercised, and yet I have been commended for patience. I have of- ten too been accused of misdeeds of which I am inno- cent. If my story were known, I should appear in a very different light, and must give up the credit in one instance which I should acquire in another. I believe we are much oftener mistaken in our opinion of our neighbours, than censorious through malice. That in- nate attachment to what is perfect, fair, and good, which is still discernible in fallen man, impels us spon- taneously to condemn error and depravity, and in our eagerness to pay what we feel to be an easy homage to virtue, we do not wait to be fully acquainted with those minute particulars which would enable us to be correct in our decision. Indeed, our finite faculties disqualify us for the office of censor, for the grave closes on many a concealed excellence and many an undiscovered crime. " Your drawing certainly is not above mediocrity, but I am not anxious to have you excel in mere accom- plishments. It is no misfortune or disgrace to wa»t 110 THE REFUSAL. what is termed genius, it is a dreadful offence to mis- apply it; for correct taste and a capacious intellect must at least affect pure moral feeling,- and the artist who embodies, or the poet who conceives, what is truly beautiful and sublime, must be a practical hypo- crite if he be a slave to gross or mean passions, I may further add, they must have broken through more barriers than unenlightened common-place characters; for the acute sensations which teach us to execute or to imagine what is most exalted and attractive, are all in- tended as preservatives from vice. " This long letter, my dear child, is the most satis- factory proof I can give that I am well and cheerful ; for you know I never prose but when my little com- monweal is in perfect order. This amended state of health prevents me from feeling uncomfortable at re- linquishing your society to him who has a natural as well as a legal right to require it. You are bound to repay his fond affection for you by making all can- did allowances for his infirmities, and ministering to the wants of his declining years. If, consistently with your other duties, you can devote a few weeks to me, they shall be weeks of festival. Till then let your pen faithfully delineate your sentiments to your ever affectionate and faithful friend, " Sei.ina Delamore." " The doctors (as you choose to call my medical and clerical visitors) will not recognize you under any other character than sprightly Columbine. Like the rest of my suite they continue fondly attached to you." It is foreign to my purpose to relate all the particu- lars of Miss Mandcville's London excursion. I may safely trust the imagination of every reader to supply the necessary quantity of operas, routs, balls, plays, and masquerades; beaux and belles, lords and citi- zens, vulgar talkers and vulgar thinkers. Ol course, so great a fortune as my voung heroine t ouid ;iot go out without gaining some heart, which, by est; Wished rule, was the lawful property of some less rich or less THE REFUSAL. HI beautiful girl, who had long been dying for the very- Adonis whom the merciless Emily vanquished with a look. The reader will conceive (especially if that reader be a young beauty) how wretched Miss Man- deville's murderous attractions made her, and how, notwithstanding her sincere determination never to disturb the peace of mankind, she went on slaughter- ing like the French Invincibles. Or should the eye which glances over these pages dart its unlustrous beams over the faded cheek of some love-lorn damsel, let her be consoled bv my assuring her, that, at the end of this historv, when I have married Emily to my satisfaction, I shall oblige all her discarded swains to find out the ladies who have long secretly adored them, and lead them to the hymeneal altar in succes- sion ; because all novelists and dramatists are compel- led to enrich the world with a large colony of happy pairs a little inferior to the hero and heroine in wealth, virtue, and felicity. But being at this instant busy with my principal plot, I will not (though I know it is the custom) introduce long episodes, but will faithfully promise, if I should happen to fill my prescribed num- ber of sheets without the aid of supplementary matter, that the thirteenth edition of this work shall be en- riched with many new personages, all, like the chief character, copied from real life. I am, however, compelled to mention one conquest which Miss Mandeville made soon after her arrival in London, the young Marquis of Glenvorne ; an event which has perhaps been anticipated, as I have already premised that their estates joined, and that Emily really was an engaging, unassuming, unaffected, young woman. The Marchioness very cheerfully accepted the office which she had been requested to assume, of guiding the inexperienced fair through the maze of what is so emphatically and justly called life ; and this gave the young nobleman an opportunity of observing that the Devonshire heiress possessed more sweetness, delicacy, and ingenuous modesty, than he had ever ''met with. He soon grew enamoured, and anxious to secure the prize from a host of competitors he hazard- 112 THE REFUSAL. cd an early declaration. Finding a common rejection would not discourage him from perseverance, or satis- fy his mother, who (equally anxious for the connec- tion) begged to know what objections could be made to her son, Emily frankly pleaded a pre-engagement. The marquis was staggered at this avowal. He knew the young lady had passed her early years in almost total solitude ; he also knew the neighbourhood round Mandeville Castle, and judged it contained no rival formidable enough to extinguish his hopes. There was no dangerous-looking visitant who frequented Berkley square ; and would any one who had preten- sions to such a treasure be so heedless as to leave it unguarded! Surely, there was something Jesuitical in the lady's apparent frankness ? She had conceived some prejudice against him, which not choosing to avow, she pleaded an objection that most men would admit was insurmountable. He felt sincerely attached to her, and he trusted a more intimate knowledge of his character would remove her distaste. He there- fore begged to be still considered as a friend, and as- sured her that though he would nevtr pain her by his solicitations, he must secretly cherish hopes, and would never attempt to subdue his attachment, till he saw her in the possession of another, or heard the enviable man she so highly honoured assert his prior claim. Indeed, the Marquis had many rea- sons to feel confidence in the valadity of his own pretensions. He was young, rich, agreeable in his person, lively and polished in his manners, and irre- proachable in his conduct. He was enough in love to gratify femaie vanity, and yet not so desperately attached to a woman who rejected his offers as to bring any imputation on his good sense. He was also an affectionate, attentive son, and was generally spoken of as so likely to convey happiness with rank and for- tune, that the offer of his hand would not have been rejected except by one who had romantically pondered on the faultless image of perfection till she fell in iove with Lord Avondel, C 113 ] CHAPTER VII. u Indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition, that this goodly frame the earth seems to me a sterile promontory ; this most ex- cellent canopy the air, look you, this brave o'er-hanging firma- ment, this majestic roof, fretted with golden fire, why it appears no other thing to me than a foul pestilential congregation of va- pours. Man delights not me, — nor woman neither." Shakespeare. BEING, like my heroine, much attached to what is mysterious and sublime, I must now abandon all other characters and attend Lord Avondel to his pa- ternal mansion. Nature had formed the mind of this nobleman in one of her most capacious moulds, and all who saw him early in life pronounced him born alike for honoura- ble celebrity and domestic felicity. He had just obtain- ed possession of his estate when he became attached to a lady, whose merit and beauty counterbalanced the the objection which his friends might form to the smallness of her fortune ; and this was still further ob- viated by her prudence and retired habits. Their union was determined upon, the day was fixed, and the earl set out for Avon Park to prepare for the recep- tion of his bride. The separation was to be very short, and the intended bridegroom indulged in all those dreams of perfect felicity which a marriage, con- tracted under the happiest auspices, could suggest to a sanguine temper, animated by a strong attachment to a lovely amiable object. Such was Lord Avondel's situation, when he received a letter from the woman he thus idolized, to tell him this dream of happiness was at an end, that she was imperiously compelled to renounce him for ever; and that as she should never . see or hear from him more, she called upon him, as he valued his honour and his peace, to forget her, and 114 THE REFUSAL. from that moment consider himself liberated from a most unhappy engagement. He hastened to her resi- dence ; it had been only a temporary one. She and her servants were gone, and had left no clue to discover her retreat. Her letter seemed to be dictated by the deepest anguish of mind, but whether it were the an- guish of guilt or of sorrow he knew not. It was a dreadful mystery, but ft still remained an undiscovered one, as from that moment he had neither seen nor heard of her proceedings or abode. A disappointment so unexpected, so inexplicable, stamped an indelible impression on Lord Avondel's character. To petryfying surprise succeeded the deep- est dejection. Somewhat of indignation, however, mingled with his regret. Among the various unfound- ed conjectures to which this incident gave birth, envy and censoriousness circulated a report, that passion had transgressed the bounds of virtue, and compelled the lady to a temporary retirement. Conscious of inno- cence, Lord Avondel silently left the improbable ca- lumny to refute itself. But a thought shot across his mind : — could that angel countenance, where purity seemed to sit blushing at her own attractions, be in- deed the vizor of specious blandishment, the treacher- ous appendage of a polluted person and contaminated soul ? and was this obscure elopement the impulse of contrition, or the stern injunction of necessity, shud- dering at impending discovery, and fearing to plunge into aggravated guilt ? Away with the unworthy thought ! If fiends can speak and look like the holy inhabitants of heaven, what avails discernment. Lord Avondtl was not one of those meek, tranquil characters-, who can fold the arms of patience over a bosom throbbing with anguish. Domestic life was now a vacuum, England was a desert. His country's ban- ners were flying on the continent, and under their mar- tial shade he might forget the lover in the soldier. Impelled by a powerful desire of sacrificing that life nobly which he had ceased to value, he joined the al- lied army, while his wrongs and sorrows furnished THE REFUSAL. 115 conversation for every tea-table in London, and re- busses and acrostics no longer pretended to involve the polite world in superlative perplexity. I have alreadv stated, that his merit soon obtained the distinctions which he sought, but his bright career had nearly been interrupted. After supper one even- ing in the mess-room, when the bottle had circulated freely, an officer mentioned the name of the mother of Lord Avondel's recreant bride among the disreputable characters of her time. The enthusiasm of an unsub- dued attachment urged him to defend the lady's repu- tation. High words ensued ; they ended in a chal- lenge, but the consequences were prevented by their general's ordering them both under an arrest. He re- moved it next morning, and told Lord Avondel, in friendly confidence, that the cause he meant to have espoused was indefensible. The horrid suggestion I have before alluded to, now returned with tenfold vio- lence. The lady who had deserted him had certainly been educated under the immediate auspices of this infamous mother. If he had subsequently associated with those women who blend the characters of good and beautiful, his native candour would have resisted the injurious suspicion, in spite of the irritation inci- dent to such deep sorrows and unprovoked wrongs. But a camp rarely exhibits any trait of female excel- lence. His next residence was in a dissipated Italian court, and there he finished that dark outline of treache- ry, folly, licentiousness, and caprice, to which his proud and lacerated heart affixed the name of woman. The man who has quarrelled with one half of his species is seldom on very good terms with the other, especially if he has allowed himself to believe that he is himself a being of a superior order. In reality, Lord Avondel's merit was duly appreciated by the government he served, and the society with which he associated ; but his early disappointment had made him one of those not uncommon characters in high // life, who, with great apparent gentleness and urbanity, i are really hard to please. He measured human na- VOL. I. L 116 THE REFUSAL. ture by the standard of perfection, and whatever fell below it he beheld with pity, indifference, or contempt. He was, however, prevented by a regard for his own character, from exposing those sentiments. " He would be great, was not without ambition," and having obtained the reputation of being the best bred man in Europe, he took care to restrain every expression which would invalidate his title to that distinction. Though pride was his ruling passion, it was not pure from the mean alloy of vanity, and with all his affected preference for retirement, he was born for a public life. Its difficulties exercised his great qualities, and his noble avarice pointed not at wealth but at fame. Though apparently indifferent to his own praises, no music was so grateful to his ear, and his dislike of others was always disarmed by flattery, or a conviction that the offender was attached to his person. So insa- tiable was his thirst of distinction, that it often counter- acted his self-esteem, and the passion of being first in every company so far possessed him, that had some extraordinary chance placed him in a group of rustics, like " mighty Csesar he would have been the best wrestler on the green," rather than have passed unre- garded. Conscious of his weakness in this particular, he was scrupulous in the choice of his companions. He formed few friendships ; he distrusted the world too much to have anv confidant, and having been early robbed of those blessings which would have softened his high indignant spirit, his chief aim through life was to seek and guard " the bubble of reputation." In pursuit of this fancied good, he had sacrificed much of his paternal fortune to munificent, patriotic and splendid actions. He had by this incurred the common lot of obliging some worthy and grateful peo- ple, he had also armed ingratitude and knavery with the power of doing him injuries. He suffered this latter circumstance to dwell too much upon his mind, without considering that those who aim at popularity should be prepared to encounter rebuffs. The emolu- ments of his appointments proved inadequate to the THE REFUSAL. 117 largeness of his soul, and as he felt equally incapable of checking the impulse of policy or beneficence, he saw for himself no future alternative but poverty or dependence. To the latter he could not submit; re- putation, honour, truth, attachment to his beloved country, all forbade his becoming the tool of power. The former he fancied he could bear — indeed, his per- sonal wants were few : plain in his habits, temperate in his enjoyments, and utterly void of all expensive vices, he only wanted to be transported to those times when eulogists, content with cameleon's food, crowded the bare halls of honourable poverty, to have been per- sonally contented with " the hermit's maple dish and beechen bowl unstained with wine," to laugh at all the wants and to despise all the enjoyments of luxury. In this disposition he landed in England, disgusted with the world, though it had paid him for his waste of time and fortune by a large return of the coin he most valued ; disgusted with ministry, but not on account of his recall ; for the deranged state of his finances compelled him to wish to be removed from that station, where the grandeur of his views and the steady integrity of his principles made him act rather like a guardian angel, devoted to the service ol others, than as a mercenary adventurer bent on securing his own emolument. Neither did his dissatisfaction at government arise from disapprobation of their mea- sures, nor yet from their not having given him some lucrative sinecure as a reward for his services. On the contrary, he approved of their general plans, and as he scorned to avow his wants, so he estimated his services too highly to believe they couid be repaid by a pecuniary reward. His resentment arose from some breach of etiquette in the letters of recal, which spoke less of his deserts than he expected. He had experienced the probity and fidelity of Sir Walter Mandeville, in some verv trying incidents i, in his early life, and when his conduct had been re- > cently censured in the house of commons, the good baronet had so far combatted his natural shyness and 118 THE REFUSAL. acquired indolence, as to hurry to London, with a view of influencing all his connections to unite in the defence of his friend. Certainly, his motives were more honourable than his services were apparent, but grati- tude was a predominant feature in Lord Avondel's mind, and his attachments, though few, were indelible. The ennui which ill health and want ot occupation had considerably increased during his voyage, was much dissipated by his residence at Mandeville Castle. He saw there characters widely different from those he had lately mixed with ; they required no study and little precaution. He had only to appear amiable and agree- able, and to drink largely not merely of the draught of adulation but also of the more grateful beverage of admiration and love. For let it not be supposed that a man of Lord Avondel's penetration could long mis- take the language of Emily's downcast eyes, or not feel gratified at a conquest so flattering to self-esteem. Yet the paeans of triumphant vanity could not make him insensjble to the claims of honour. He knew his character would suffer in the estimation of the world, if he were suspected of having surreptitiously stolen the affections of an inexperienced, wealthy heiress, who, when she gave him her heart, seemed as much circum- scribed as Eve was in her choice of Adam. He revolt- ed from the idea of injustice to the young lady, from stooping to mean expedients to repair his fortune, and from the danger of entrusting his honour and his peace to the guardianship of a fair novice, whose extreme simplicity of mind and manners might change into levity or folly when she mixed with the world. He determined, therefore, whatever might be the issue, to avoid all self-reproach, by preserving a manner rather paternal than amatory. Still, however, her society pleased, and her partiali- ty soothed, him. None of his perfections were over- looked ; his exalted sentiments were never uttered to the winds if Miss Mandeville was present. She re- corded all his opinions, she wept for his past dangers, she felt for all his wrongs. This really was very capti- THE REFUSAL 119 vating in a woman who could give not only competen- cy but affluence to her husband. This woman too was young, docile, gentle, almost even to his fastidious fancy beautiful. There were traits in her countenance which reminded him of one he wished he could forever forget. He regretted he had discovered a resemblance, and now believed it only consisted in the same general expression of sensibility and delicacy. Insensibly he grew happier. All men were not unjust, perhaps all women were not faithless, wayward, and capricious. He was awaked from this agreeable reverie by Sir Walter's proposal, and Lady Mackintosh's hinting that he was publicly suspected of a design on Emily. He no longer allowed himself to consider what was sooth- ing to his own feelings, but what his own fame and her advantage required ; and his parting advice to Sir Walter was dictated by that disinterestedness which ever marked his conduct. Nor were the praises of Lady Paulina Monthermer accidentally introduced ; he was persuaded that Emilv ought to forget him, and he fancied piqued vanity would be a strong auxiliary to induce a young lady to withdraw her heart from one who would be thus copious in the praise of another. The objects which Avon Park presented to his view excited the most soul-harrowing recollections. The last time he had been there was the day he received the mvsterious letter that had given such a dark co- louring to his mind. He walked over his grounds, and saw the plantations he had formed when hope buoyed him up with the most flattering expectations. " Not a shrub that he heard her admire but he hasted and planted it there." They grew and flourished as ra- pidly as his own joys had faded. The buds were just swelling with all the luxuriant promise of early spring; he viewed their stately growth, and then contemplated himself a ruin tending earthward, never more to be attired in the cheerful colours of joy and hope. |' But where was she for whom he had formed this //paradise of rural bliss, the Eve who should have walk- I ed in these groves ? He blamed himself for conform- L2 120 THE REFUSAL. ing to that rigid injunction of offended honour which had forbade him to enquire her fate. She might be innocent, faithful, wretched ; requiring his assistance, bewailing his neglect. If the strange impediment to which he had alluded were removed — No, impossible ! Her letter told him the bar was eternal. Wandering through his plantations he endeavoured to believe the soothing predictions of Shenstone ; The shrub and the bower and the tree, "Which I reared for her pleasure in vain, In time may have comfort for me. He returned to the saloon, threw himself on a sofa, gazed on the border which she had painted, and the chimney-piece which had been executed according to her design. To stay the tide of reflection was impos- sible. He allowed himself to expatiate on the visions of his early life, while all his subsequent experience deepened -the conviction, that they were indeed visions of bliss worth far more than whatever ambition pre- sented u to crown the hero's and the patriot's toils." Could they be realized ? No, the bar was eternal. Poor little Emily ! she was an amiable girl, but there was a sublimity, a nobleness of mind, in her who once possessed his heart. Besides, could he offer himself to the fair heiress while labouring under the weakness of a pre-attachment ? " No," said Avondel, " I may be wretched but I cannot be base, and I will continue to hope that she will soon forget me." Doubtless his lordship was very sincere in that wish, and it was only an unaccountable start of peevishness which made him exclaim, " Frailty thy name is woman," on being in- formed by one of his London correspondents, that the town was in daily expectation of Lord Glenvorne's being married to Miss Mandeville. If Lord Avondel were really mortified at this intel- ligence, he had an opportunity of experiencing the comforts which are derived from conscious rectitude, and to abate his chagrin he had cause to congratulate THE REFUSAL. 121 himself on his escape from a woman of so much le- vity. His energetic mind did not long remain supine, and he struggled to subdue his regrets. Renouncing every view of improving his fortune by faction, court attendance, or matrimonial alliance, he determined to gather up the wrecks and subdue his desires, to be con- tent with what remained. Probably Lord Avondel is not the first nobleman who, returning to his estate af- ter a long absence, discovers that his steward has pro- vided him with a vast deal of employment. The earl found he had to settle embarrassed accounts, to redress the wrongs of many of his tenants, to restrain the pe- culations of others, to rescue his manorial rights from poachers, to establish order and impartial justice among his dependents, and to cultivate the good opinion of his neighbours. He applied himself with avidity to these pursuits, and soon made two agreeable discove- ries, namely, that his affairs were rather intricate than desperate, and that wherever he went his manners would gain popularity and his character enforce re- spect. Refined and upright minds only can duly appreciate the exquisite satisfaction of knowing, that they depend not on the forbearance or bounty of others for the means of existence. The satisfaction derived from this noble consciousness, was too congenial to the feel- ings of Lord Avondel to permit his undivided atten- tion to ruminate on the festering wounds of love or re- sentment. With all the dignity of a Cincinnatus, he turned his mighty mind to rural occupations. Much as he affected to renounce hope, he was in fact the con- stant dupe of expectation, being ever in pursuit of what the world did not afford, a felicity commensurate with his vast desires ; and he always saw in some unattain- able desideratum or future possibility, those ideal phantoms which increased his disrelish of his present enjoyments. This turn of mind had indeed one ad- vantage, it animated him to perpetual exertion. He now resolved " to bend the stubborn genius of the plain, to form his quincunx, and to rank his vines," 122 THE REFUSAL. not without an expectation of being admired as the Palemon '•' who led the rural life in all its joys and elegance, such as Arcadian song transmits," though without the most distant wish of meeting with a La- vinia. This metamorphosis was however prevented by the arrival of two letters from London ; the first was from Sir Walter Mandeville, and contained many dolorous circumstances. " This London journey," said he, "which I undertook to please you, turns, out very ill. Not that I dislike town more than I expected, for I have found great benefit from a quack medicine for my asthma, and if people do laugh at me they are too ci- vil to let me see them ; but Emily don't seem contented, and she is so pale and thin that you would hardly know her. Her pbvsician talks of ordering her to her na- tive air, and I believe they never prescribe air till they have tried every thing else. She's a very good girl, and if she dies I hope I shall soon follow her, for La- dy Mackintosh was married last week. I never thought she could have overcome -her grief for my old friend Jeremiah, but women are strange creatures, even the best of them." The letter concluded with several in- vectives and mournful prognostics, accompanied with a wish to see Lord Avondel once more before he died. The other letter was from a leading member of ad- ministration, acquainting the earl, that by his Majes- ty's command, he informed him of the royal wish to call him to his councils, by nominating him to an ho- nourable and efficient situation in the management of public affairs. Lord Avondel decided that each of these despatches required a pei-sonal replv. The cha- racter of Palemon was laid on the shelf, the toils of Cincinnatus were suspended, and he alighted from his travelling chariot in Berkley square sooner than an ex- press could have announced his intention of so do- ing. He found Sir Walter anxious and agitated, but not so infirm and declining as he supposed ; and from this THE REFUSAL. 123 evident exaggeration of his fears for himself he au- gured favourably with respect to Emily, to whom he immediately turned the conversation. u Report, my good friend, 1 ' said he, " led me rather to expect a bri- dal summons. Lord Glenvorne's attachment is no se- cret, and we have fixed the happy day, and drawn the settlements, in Cumberland." " Report," returned Sir Walter, " is the same lying gossip she was three thousand years ago. Lord Glen- vorne certainly is in love with Emily, nor will he take a denial, though he has been told she is engaged." " Engaged ! Sir Walter," said the earl, starting. " Yes, my lord," resumed the baronet, with much apparent coolness, "to a whimsical perverse fellow, who seems to have neither love nor gratitude." " It is impossible," resumed the nobleman, " that Miss Mandeville can devote her affections to a man of this description. Allow me to converse with her on the subject." " With all my heart," answered Sir Walter, ringing the bell ; " I tell you she saw him in a masquerade domino, and all the plain suits in the world won't drive him out of her head again." {t I cannot," said Lord Avondel, " affect to doubt intelligence so flattering; and if Miss Mandeville still believes my character deserves such a preference, I have only to assure her that gratitude and love are as much inmates of my heart as honour and rectitude. But I hear her step, I must not wound her delicacy by taking her by surprize. Inform her I will do my- self the honour of waiting on her this evening." " By the lord Harry, it shall be settled directly," returned Sir Walter, chuckling with heart-felt satisfac- tion. " You are caught, general, the enemy is at the door and your retreat is cut off. All you can do is to throw yourself into that fort, while I hold a parley and treat for your surrender." Lord Avondel had indeed scarcely time to withdraw 124 THE REFUSAL. to a recess ere Miss Mandeville entered, and asked her uncle. the reason of this sudden summons. " You will be the death of me," said he, affecting to look terribly furious, while the broad grin of delight distended his rough features. " By Jove, I will make you marry directly. So much about love and lovers, they will twirl my head off my shoulders." " My dear sir," said Emily, with a faint smile, " you know my answer to Lord Glenvorne." " Yes," returned her guardian, " but that will not do any longer. The man in the moon must come forth. You must say xvho ) 7 ou are engaged to V " Who has a right to call upon me for such an avowal ?" • y " Come, come, no high-flying. People, I tell you, have begun to guess. There has been a fellow with me this morning, who has found you out, and he tells me Lord Avondel is old, proud, discontented, a bank- rupt in his fortunes> given up to ill humour, resolved to make you miserable." " How could you, sir, listen to such scurrility. — Why did you not order your footman to turn the low impertinent out of doors ?" " Hey-day, Emily, why you are riding post ! Who but Lord Avondel himself dares to speak thus of his character ?" " Lord Avondel in London!" said Emily, shrink- ing with terror, " and visited you this morning ?" " Certainly," returned her uncle. " What if he is come to prevail on you to marry his friend the young marquis, would you refuse him, girl'?" She looked round witli astonishment, and met the respectful glance of Avondel, who, unable to see her thus tormented, advanced from his retreat, not with the proud con- sciousness of success, but with that graceful affectation of doubt which would have reassured a mind less in- genuous and susceptible than the timid Emily ; who found it impossible not to feel overwhelmed with con- fusion, though in the presence of him without whom THE REFUSAL. 125 the world had appeared a dreary void. Lord Avondel hastened to relieve her distress. " I am," said he, " indeed a suitor, but not in the cause of another. Sanctioned by your guardian's ap- probation, I have the presumption to ask you to forget your brighter prospects for one who pleads no desert, but a deep sense of your goodness, and a determina- tion to devote to you that life which vour favour would render worthy the name of existence." Emily trembled, wept, leant on her uncle's bosom, and seemed only anxious to conceal her emotion, which the effort made more visible. " Take her, my lord," said Sir Walter, " and thank you for ridding me of a great trouble. But, in my con- science I do think, if you knew the plague of these girls you would never undertake to manage them." Lord Avondel respectfully pressed the hand which Emily silently permitted her uncle to bestow, and as- sured him he so well knew the excellence of his man- agement as to be convinced he received from him an inestimable blessing. " Somehow or other she has made me of that opin- ion," returned the baronet, folding his niece to his heart with warm affection. Then resuming an air of humorous asperity, " but come, Emily, now give us a little of your sex. Play the hypocrite, and tell my lord you detest the sight of him." Lord Avondel interposed to divert Sir Walter's rail- lery. " I must," said he, " exercise the happy right you have conferred upon me, to insist that Miss Man- deville may be suffered to follow her own unbiassed judgment. I will only be indebted to herself for my future happiness. I invite myself to be your guest this evening, and till then will be confident of nothing but that you are my warm-hearted advocate." Sir Walter could only murmur, that Avondel was the most positive man in the world ; but Emily raised i her eyes and gave him a look of bashful gratitude, as I, he retired, while she felt that had this been their first 126 THE REFUSAL. interview the delicacy of his behaviour would have inspired a permanent attachment. " So," said the earl to himself, " I am again in the high road to wedlock. Once I dreamt of congenial minds, of according habits, tempers, tastes, and ages. ' Time, who has thinned my flowing hair,' and bade the grey somewhat mingle with my manly brown, has kindly taught me lessons of moderation and prudence. I must now meditate on making provision for a proper establishment. Yet, if administration expect me to make any undue compliances as a return for their fa- vours, I will sooner beg my wife to settle on me an equivalent for pin-money than hold an ostensible situ- ation without the power of acting as I wish. Emily is docile and affectionate. She possibly would prefer retirement ; but it is not every woman who possesses sufficient powers of mind to make retirement palata- ble. He then ruminated on the prospects which his early attachment presented, and did not rouse himself from that train of thought till he arrived at the pre- mier's. A long conference terminated in his consent- ing to accept the proposed office ; and thus, after years of disappointment and chagrin, love, wealth, and am- bition, united to choose one auspicious day to shower upon him unexpected favours. [ 127 ] CHAPTER VIII. " For you, I would be trebled twenty times myself, A thousand times more fair ; ten thousand times More rich ; that to stand high in your account, I might in virtues, beauties, riches, friends, Exceed account : but the full sum of me Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractis'd : Happy in this, she is not yet so old But she may learn ; more happy that in this She is not bred so dull but she can learn ; Happiest of all, is, that her gentle spirit Commits itself to you to be directed As from her lord, her governor, and king." Shakespear MISS MANDEVILLE received her uncle's con- gratulations on her good fortune, mixed with reproach- es {or having welcomed it with so bad a grace, and retired to her chamber almost afraid of trusting to the reality of the scene which had just past. " Is this,''' said she, " indeed the happiest hour of my life ? have I every reason to look with exultation on my future prospects ? Then why these tears ? why this self- abasement ? Is love so humiliating an associate to female modesty, that it is impossible for it to receive any exaltation from the dignity of its object ? Had I volunteered my affections to a coxcomb I might have trembled at the idea of being sacrificed to his vanity, and becoming the mark of public ridicule ; but Lord Avondel is incapable of so far abusing a generous pas- sion as to make it minister to his self-love. He will respect the peace and honour of her w dvrew her- self on his protection, without another but to | promote his happiness, and to be guided by hi ill. // And wh:.t an infinite advantage is it to a young orphan, |. beset with the dangers incident to prosperity, to have VOL. I. M 128 ™ E REFUSAL. such a protector, such a guide. Shielded by such wisdom and goodness no dangers can- assail me. How enviable is my lot ! a life of elegant, liberal retirement, passed with a companion who will inform my mind and direct my conduct ! Away reserve, 'tis girlish fastidiousness, not womanly decorum. I will not add disingenuousness to any other unworthiness. Lord Avondel shall know how entirely his image occupies my heart ; and while I submit all my weakness to his correc- tion, he shall see it is my first ambition to copy his excel- lencies and to form my mind by his perfect model." Emily spent the day in building fairy bowers of ru- ral happiness and domestic tranquillity : and in con- firming her resolution of being perfectly unreserved to her noble lover at their next interview. But the stability of her resolution was shaken by the earl's apologizing, with more ceremony than their present situation required, for obtruding his company that evening, without inquiring if she had a pre-engage- ment. Could she tell him with what infinite satisfac- tion she would make every plan give way to his wishes, when he so plainly intimated that he thought the laws of female decorum inviolable ? She could only say that she had no engagement. Lord Avondel said something in praise of domestic habits, but ad- ded, that our social comforts must sometimes yield to the sterner obligations of public duty. He then stated the arrangements he had made with ministry, and the necessity which he felt of complying with the call of loyalty and patriotism ; and he painted the satisfaction which attended vast designs and fair achievments in such pleasing colours, that though Emily saw her fairy bowers of rural happiness and domestic tranquillity completely overturned, and the gargeous palaces of ambition erected in their stead, .still, as the elegant improving companion who walked by her side through the grove was only exchanged-.ior thejjiero with whom she would stand on the pedesta^QT^gJory, s ' le contin- ued infinitely satisfied with her lot, aYid with all the pliant: versimilitude of youth believed "Agrippina par- the refusal. 129 taking the renown of Germanicus, was quite as happy as an Arcadian shepherdess listening to the pipe of her beloved. After thus giving her to understand that she must not expect a great public character to dwindle into an uxorious puppet, governed by the fears and fancies of a woman, he entered on a brief review of his own his- tory. He expressed his hope that he should not pre- judice himself in her good opinion by owning, that when very young his heart had received a deep, nay an incurable, wound. Deep, as he never could forget the person who had inflicted it ; incurable, as it had cankered his temper, transformed his character, and compelled him to be suspicious and often unjust. He re- lated the history I have already recorded, but his nar- rative cast so much odium on the perfidious lady, that Emily was ashamed of herself for even supposing it could be her aunt Selina. From this subject he turned to his fortune, and own- ed that a title was a troublesome appendage to one whose estate would barely supply the wants of a pri- vate gentleman. Of the emoluments of his future of- fice he spoke like one who knew his own failing too well to make them sufficient for their incidental ex- penses ; and he told her he should ever consider them as the mere appendages of his station, not as a fund to assist the deficiencies of his private purse, being re- solved not to remain in place one hour after honour and conscience called upon him to resign. He told Emily that he durst not promise her the fond solicitude, the unruffled tenderness, which a mind less occupied would pay to her deserts. Would she be contented with his considering her as the spotless sacristry where he enshrined all his comforts, the part- ner of his glorv and success, or the secure asvlum to which he should flee when pursued by envv, calumny, or disgrace ? Was she content to renounce the advan- tages which her happier fortunes and blooming years might command, to divert ennui, to soften acrimony, to nurse indisposition ? All those evils had haunted him, 130 THE REFUSAL. and though he felt a delightful persuasion that the charming Emily would prevent their return, he knew his own fallibility, and he must warn her that even sweetness and tenderness like hers were not endued with omniscient power to annihilate these foul fiends, whose nature was unhappily composed of imperishable materials. If some part of this portrait resembled the dark shades oi a Rembrandt ; others boasted the divine ex- pression of a Carlo Dolci ; and how much praise was due to the ingenuousness of the painter, who seemed more studious to exhibit defects than excellencies. She was not sufficiently acquainted with the world to know, that though the blazing meteor of distinguished talent dazzled every distant beholder, the steady lamp of cheerful good-humour was a more agreeable inmate. Summoning all her courage, she told Lord Avondel that a disposition which abhorred all disguise, and a lortune which derived no support from base compli- ances, had been from her earliest youth the objects of her profound veneration. Her acquaintance with him had confirmed this predilection, and her friends knew that her fears of being unworthy of his regard had preyed upon her spirits. ~ " Disguise, my lord," she continued, " is therefore impossible. But, I conjure you, do not in future suppose, that because you have found me easy to win, mine is a light and wanton mind. You shall find my constancy as inviolable as my preference was precipitate. At least, never dread a rival till you can find a man like yourself, noble, disin- terested, with every quality which might inspire self- esteem, yet generously refusing to take any advantage of that inexperienced heart which you must have dis- covered has long since been yours." The misery which Lord Avondel had suffered from female fickleness induced Miss Mandeville to be thus frank in her declaration, and the warmth and elegance of Lord Avondel's acknowledgements prevented her from reproaching herself for having gone too far. " Suffer me, my Emily," said he, " to plead the right THE REFUSAL. 131 of a long attachment, by urging you to name an early clay to confirm my title to so great a treasure. I have been used to celerity in the arrangements of important transactions, and I will undertake to expedite even' ne- cessary preparation. As to settlements, my part is easv. I have only to sign such deeds as your counsel will think fit to prepare. If, however, they are dictated by your generous uncle, I shall claim a right to object to them, should they lay me under too oppressive obliga- tions." Emily was too humble a mistress to wish to prolong the reign of female power. She referred her lover to Sir Walter, with a confidence, she said, that her honour and fortune were safe in their care. One of the happy circumstances which resulted from this conversation was, that Miss Mandeville felt herself at liberty to unbosom her whole heart to Lady Selina, to whom an unaccountable connection of impro- babilities had lately made her be reserved. She imme- diatelv took her pen, and called for her aunt's con- gratulations on her approaching marriage to a man of rank and birth superior to her own, and superior also to the whole world in every noble, estimable, and en- gaging quality. " Can you," said she, " believe that your little foolish, fearful niece, destitute of every shin- ing talent, and only made remarkable by the adventiti- ous gifts of fortune, has really secured to herself for the protector and guide of her future life, a nobleman on whose mind avarice and vanity never made the least impression ; who has seen the beauties of every court and climate without being made a slave by their blan- dishments, and who really thinks an artless, well-inten- tioned girl a suitable alliance to unparalleled magnani- mity and unblemished fame. Yes, my dear aunt, this is the object on whom I told you my affections Avere highly set. He has proved the reality and strength of my affection, but he has proved it in a manner equally honourable to his generosity and soothing to my deli- cacy. I feel dignified by the preference which I che- rished, and his esteem has given me an importance in my own eyes which I never before possessed. If you M 2 132 THE REFUSAL, have ever seen the object of my attachment you will know him by my description, if not, I will tell you that my destined husband, in whom every good, every noble quality, is centered, is the Ear^ of Avondel. And my uncle confirms my choice with an enthusiasm equal to my own. " But do not, my dearest aunt, suppose that my pre- sent attachment absorbs all those claims duty and early tenderness have inscribed so indelibly on my soul. It shall be inserted in my marriage articles, that 1 will spend some weeks every year at Lime Grove, I mean if the united requests of myself and my lord cannot prevail upon you to renounce your solitude, and live with us in London, where my lord's duty, as an effici- ent member of administration, will oblige us chiefly to reside. You shall not deny my request on pain of my employing a resistless pleader, who has governed courts and animated senates, guided the statesman to wisdom and the soldier to victory. Nor will I allow that your resolution of hiding your virtues from the wond ought to be more_durable than my determina- tion of continuing single, and living with you at Lime Grove, never allowing any one to dispute your claim to the first place in the affections of your still fondly at- tached and ever grateful niece, Emily Mandeville." By the way of breaking the tedium of uninterrupted narrative, and to shew die world what epistolary trea- sures are in my possession, I shall chiefly fill this chap- ter with some of the correspondence which passed on this occasion. The next letter is from the Marquis of Glenvorne. " To Miss Mandeville. (l - Madam, " As my attachment to you was too ardent to allow me to attempt to subdue it while a hope remained that respectful perseverance might render it successtui, so it is too disinterested to wound your generosity by per- sisting in a suit which I know to be desperate. The Earl of Avondel has just convinced me of the futility THE REFUSAL. 133 of every pretension which disputes his prior claim to your regard. I resign you, madam ; but the pang of relinquishing what has long been the first wish of my heart is absorbed by the conviction that there has been a peculiar felicity in your fate. You have had an op- portunity of selecting the worthiest, and you have also had the judgment to discern who that person was whose congenial mind and superior virtues are best adapted to your own deserts. Nor shall my congratu- lations be less sincere because I fancy that my own lot might have been happier had you never seen him with whom I own contention would be vain. It is my boast to possess the friendship of Lord Avondel, and my mother joins me in requesting a place in your esteem through his intercession. As the wife of mv friend you will ever command the lively respect and faithful service of, madam, " Your most devoted servant, " Glenvorne." I think it is observed, that in the disease called the calenture the seaman's earnest desire for those green fields and shady bowers which he fancies would relieve his sufferings takes such possession of his perturbed mind, that he sees nothing roand him but those de- lightful objects. Thus in the respectful farewel of Lord Glenvorne, the enamoured Emily only saw the merits and praises of her Avondel. " How carefully," said she, " does he guard my character from indeco- rum. He urges a prior claim to Glenvorne, founded on our meeting at Mandeville Castle. His prudence and delicacy will thus ever shield my indiscreet preci- pitation. The winds of heaven can never visit my face too roughly. Surely, I am transported into some paradise. Can this be the world's chequered maze ? Can this be the labyrinth in which virtue toils and suf- fers ? I fear my delirium of full content cannot last long ; I feel I am too happy I" A few days (during which the nuptial preparations went on with equal eclat and celerity) brought her a 134 THE REFUSAL letter from Lime-Grove, which is of importance to the history. " May every blessing attend the nuptial engagement of my dearest Emily; I would say, complete as her own impassioned fancy paints, but as romantic expec- tation is often a source of disappointment and misery, I will not mislead my beloved girl, but will say, perfect as the chances of this state of mutability and the weak- ness of human virtue w.ill afford. I have seen the earl of Avondel, my child, and I subscribe to your high but just encomium. Sir Walter fulfils the part of a faithful guardian by committing you to the care of a husband of such unblemished worth. " Be not alarmed at the shortness of this letter, I have had a slight return of my complaint, and am now so nervous that I am forced to have recourse to my old recipe of perfect quietness. You know at such times I could not even bear your company. " Let me, however, intreat you to observe my pre- cautionai:v injunctions. Do not stipulate for an annual visit to Lime Grove, nor even mention my name to Lord Avondel till you have been his wife long enongh to discover ever}- peculiarity in his temper. Even the best and wisest are not free from shades of error, and my long knowledge of the world has enabled me to discover, that very sensible men are often most averse to their wives having any very strong female friendships or confidential intimacies. Besides, I was once much talked of, and I have cause to fear Lord Avondel has imbibed the general prejudice against me. He might, therefore, even think less favourably of you, if he knew the ties which subsisted between us. I do not require you to subdue your affection for me ; it is the consola- tion of my life, and I know our love is so deeply root- ed that it may silently subsist in our hearts till a fit op- portunity permits us to exercise its duties and assert its rights. When you have long observed Lord Avondel in that near point of view which your intimate connec- tion permits, when time and trial have convinced him, of my dear child's intrinsic worth, when your inclina- THE REFUSAL. 135 tions and pursuits are become similar from habit, and your rooted affection rests upon a basis which cannot be subverted, it will be time enough to introduce such a friend as you, my dearest Emily, will ever find in your faithful Selina Deiamore." This letter somewhat interrupted Miss Mandeville's dr >ms of unruffled felicity. I do not say that it took her out of her hymeneal paradise, but it certainly led her to the mount of vision, and gave her a view of the perplexities and vexations with which the world abounds. Lord Avondel, her all-perfect lover, to conceive a prejudice against her all-perfect aunt ; the two dearest and best of beings to dislike one another ; — It was very astonishing : and, really, independent- ly of the conviction that this mutual enmity would in- terrupt her own happiness, it would be a most chris- tian office to attempt to reconcile them. At least, every principle of justice, regard to her lord's character, and attachment to his person, required her to combat her aunt's opinion, that his abhorrence of her was so root- ed as to be even capable of shaking his affection for his young bride, when informed of her having been educated under Lady Selina's auspices. She could on- ly ascribe this notion to the effects of that infirmity of which her aunt complained. Indisposition clouds the serenest mind with phantoms of spleen, and when our bodies are in snch a state that the soul quarrels with its companion, she is very apt to extend her animosity to the rest of her species, at least to believe that we are as disagreeable to others as we are to ourselves. In this persuasion Miss Mandeville addressed Lady Selina. " My dearest aunt, " Had you not informed me that you are unwell I should have discovered it in the style of a letter so evidently dictated by languor and dejection ; and, in- . deed, I am now convinced of the truth of the obser- w vation which I have often heard you make, that the most elevated minds, and the happiest tempers, are 136 THE REFUSAL. not always able to resist the depression and dissatisfac- tion which results from a life of total seclusion. This makes me more anxious that you should change your plan ; and though I dare do no other than obey your in- junctions, I must hope you will soon cancel them, and bless me with seeing the two people I best love united in that strict friendship which all whoknotv them must believe them born to cherish for each other. " My dearest aunt, you are above listening to the idle reports of tale bearers ; whence then comes this con- viction, that my lord is prejudiced against you ? I am now assured you have only seen him ; for if you knew his worth you would conclude, that candour, liberality, and a wise disdain of mean suspicions, are his ruling qualities. Even when he has been basely used, or in cases wherein he has witnessed very censurable beha- viour, this admirable disposition does not forsake him. I can mention two instances. He will scarcely allow the extreme malevolence of Lady Mackintosh's cha- racter, though, since I have had the courage to speak to him freely, I have told him how cruelly she used me on his account. The other case is still stronger. He has told me, that in early life he experienced a most cruel disappointment from a lady to whom he was fondly attached. The day was fixed, the settlements finished ; every point was arranged, when, without any alleged misconduct on his part, or the least con- sciousness of having acted reprehensibly, this fickle, treacherous woman renounced him forever. He has suffered so much from this event, that he calls it the sera of misery, pi'oducing a complete change in his temper and habits. Yet will he not divulge the name of the unworthy creature, and he assures me he has avoided making any inquiry after her, because he will not gratify the impressions of resentment by hearing of the misery which must be her portion. " Can you believe that a man who thinks and acts in this manner is capable of cherishing an unfounded prejudice against you? and that of so strong a kind as even to affect the artless girl who owes every laudable THE REFUSAL. 137 quality to your care? No, indeed: the black fiend me- lancholy, whom I and the doctors used to scare, has again been flapping her bats wings over Lime Grove. You have been living by yourself, my dearest aunt. Humility has read you too many homilies. You want me to put you in mind of your virtues and talents. In- deed, I will soon see you, and I hope you will allow me to be better qualified for your eulogist now I have lived in the world, and seen virtues indisputably of a superior cast. In every thing Lord Avondel realizes those ideas of magnanimity and honour which many fancy are fabulous. He has refused the nuptial settle- ment which our counsel say is always made by heiresses on their bridegrooms. He says he is become unexpect- edly wealthy by felling some timber which really en- cumbered his estate, and by compelling his steward to disburse his peculations. He hinted somewhat of in- decorum in such an arrangement, and that word always silences me. But he has intreated me to place my name as patroness of two charities, one in the north, the other in London, and to accompany my signature with magnificent donations. He only permits himself to enjoy the income of my fortune. He will allow of no contingent settlements, to vest the perpetuity in him, and he has angrily forbidden my uncle to act upon his intention of bequeathing him the Mandeville estate. He assigns as his reason, that such a perversion of pro- perty would only give his enemies an opportunity of scandalizing his honour, as it would compel him to do an ostentatious, and therefore equivocal, act of jus- tice, by immediately restoring it to the lineal heirs. " Even in comparatively trivial arrangements, Lord Avondel acts by the same loftv principles. He has presented me with his mother's jewels. He calls me his Emily now, " My Emily," said he, " they are a parsimonious gift considered as the present of a nabob, but I had no passion for diamonds, and you will value these as coming from unsoiled hands, and from their having adorned women of illustrious birth and un- tainted honour. Their last possessor was eminently 138 THE REFUSAL. graced with all the passive virtues." His eyes shone with tears as he spoke. How admirable is filial piety, how does it confirm all my hopes of happiness ! " He told me they were new set about twenty years ago for an event which never happened. He had then exercised his own taste, he wished me now to consult mine in alterations. I shall wear them as they are, for the style is extremely elegant ; and among them are an aigrette and solitaire so like those worn by you in the miniature you gave me at Lime Grove, that I must preserve what will make me fancy I resemble you, ere indisposition and sorrow anticipated the ravages of time in your fiae countenance. " My uncle (worthy man) is almost frantic with ec- stacy. He says he can live without me, as joy has cured the gout and asthma, and almost removed the cannon ball from his shoulder. He gives up his house in Berkley square to my lord, and retires to Mande- ville Castle immediately after the ceremony. We are to make. an excursion to the north to introduce me to my lord's connections, but we must not be long absent, as the winter will call him to the active discharge of the important duties of his high office. I sometimes doubt my own capability of appearing with propriety as the wife of a great public character ; but I shall have such a supporter as few can boast. Perhaps you will smile when I tell you, that I am already exalted into a very sublime dignified personage. The respect and deference with which my lord treats me, makes my acquaintance consider me in a different point of view from what they used to do, and I really feel that I am no longer an unimportant romantic girl. Lucy Selwyn objected to the dress I had chosen to be pre- sented in, and recommended one with a fuller pattern. She applied to my lord as umpire, and insisted that carnations on a lilac ground looked nobler than lilies of the valley on pale blue : ' lis a point,' said he, ' of which I cannot judge, yet sure innate nobleness is best contrasted by simplicity.' He smiled when I said I was very partial to woodland lilies. THE REFUSAL 139 " The other evening Captain Brazely made some impertinent remarks on my veneration for wisdom and experience. I knew how much the maxims of false honour are obeyed, and I trembled lest my lord should hear him. But true courage is not ostentatiously que- rulous. ' Miss Mandeville,' said he, 'the captain pays you a compliment, but it requires a little explanation. It implies that, as you are certain of being most va- lued by those who have seen and reflected most, so you shew a just confidence in yourself by endeavouring to secure their approbation.' He then conversed with the greatest ease with the captain about his own affairs, and the coxcomb now boasts that he is in high favour with Lord Avondel, whom he styles the best bred man in Europe. " I know custom requires common-place gallantry from lovers, but in my absence he speaks of me with a sort of holy reverence, as if all I did or said was in truth ' wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best.' He thus gives me an elevation of character which I fear I shall never support, I mean when he is not present, and the world has too many claims upon him to allow me his uninterrupted society. Thus am I led back to the wish with which I commenced this epistle. My dear- est aunt, come and guide the orphan your tenderness saved from an early grave. You cherished my feeble frame, you corrected my early errors ; come and ren- der me worthy of the affection, and certain of securing the esteem, of the faultless Avondel. Such, in spite of your intimations, I know I shall ever consider the aftan who in a few days will be the husband of your ever grateful and happy Emily Mandeville." I am now forced to acknowledge, that the something which nobody liked, which every body saw, and which no soul could account for, in Lady Selina, induced her to behave in a most singular way on receiving -his let- ter ; and as I am not bound to write a chapter of te^rs and sighs, or to analyze all her feeiings, I must give vol. 1. N 140 THE REFUSAL her up to those who assert, that the tidings of a happy marriage operate on an old maid exactly like vinegar poured upon nitre. As I wish her, however, to pre- serve some small portion of esteem, I will not have it supposed, that though she might long be a countess herself, she actually hated Emily, or wished her the future evils which single sybils are always said to dis- cover on these occasions, by a faculty similar to second sight. Her niece's letter determined Lady Selina in two points, first to avoid the earl of Avondel, and next to take the earliest opportunity of urging the fair bride to restrain her exhuberant sensibility- If my readers can ascribe these resolutions to any other motive than ill-nature, envy, or obstinacy, I will compliment them for possessing an extraordinary share of candour and discernment. I pass over the bridal ceremony, to which only the pen of a Richardson could do justice. Suffice it to say, as long a string of carriages attended, and those carri- ages filled with as many noble lords and beautiful la- dies, as accompanied Sir Charles Grandison and his interesting Harriet to the altar. After as elegant a de- jeune as ever the Morning Post immortalized, the happy pair were bound in the indissoluble bond, and, according to immemorial custom, set off in a chariot and six, with four out-riders stuck round with white fa- vours, no matter whither. The event was announced in all the public prints. The bride's paraphernalia were exhibited at the most celebrated milliner's, nuptial pre- sents were distributed, and cards sent out in due form. Thus far Lord Avondel proved a strict conformist to the manners of the world, for he thought it unwise to provoke hostility by a pointed disobedience to its es- tablished forms. [ 141 ] INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. A pleasing land of drowsy-head it was ; Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye ; And of gay castles in the sun that pass, For ever flashing; round a summer sky ; There eke the soft delights that witchingly Ins-til a wanton sweetness through the breast, And the calm pleasures always hover'd nigh ; But what'ere smack'd of noyance or unrest Was far, far orfcxpeil'd from this delicious nest. Thomson. THE experience of near six thousand years has fully proved the advantages of occasional repose to all the tribes of animated nature, and it would be equally hard and singular if that class of beings denominated authors should be denied the benefit of occasional slumber, without peril of being indicted for high crimes and misdemeanors at the tribunal of criticism, and sentenced to endure that species of literary fla- gellation which is at least sure to remove all inclination to somnolency. I know not whether it be determined that we are lusus natures^ and, on that account, form- ing an exception to those general laws of creation which require that exertion should be followed by re- pose ? or whether a desire for those refreshments which in other creatures conduce to the health and comfort of animal life, be with us a real indication of disease and danger, on account of which our skilful censors, like wise physicians in some species of fever, ward of drowsiness, as the harbinger of death. The critics indeed reply, that they have no objections to natural slumbers, or to allow authors to wish their readers good night, and lay themselves up till they are in ab- solute possession of their faculties ; but that, if they will continue to write, and protest they are awake, when 'tis evident to every observer that they are under 142 THE REFUSAL. the influence of Morpheus, they ought to be treated like other sleep-walkers, and be blistered and physick- ed into the habit of lying quiet. The fallaciousness of this observation is apparent to all who have paid any attention to the anatomy and constitution of an author, (a modern one I mean,) to whose existence constant writing is as necessary as con- tinual breathing is to other people, and who may be said to cease to live the moment they lay down their pens. For as she whose offspring die in the first month of their existence must continue to produce or else relinquish the name of a mother, so the parents of those mouldering carcases that lie entombed in the back warehouses of circulating libraries, preserve the frail tenure of their own reputation rather by what is expected from them than by what they have actually brought forth, and find a literary accouchement every season the only way of being reckoned among living- authors. Formerly, indeed, when, owing either to the profoundness of authors or the stupidity of read- ers, a second or third perusal was necessary before a book could be undertood, and its valuable contents clearly transfused into the mind of the student, the the pen was not pledged to this unremitting labour. But a still severer task was then imposed upon eve- ry instructor of the public ; all were expected to bring positive credentials of science or talent ; and as the intervals of writing was expected to be devoted to thinking and reading. I protest our condition seems improved by our emancipation from this harsh law. — We are now only required to fill a certain number of sheets for each migration of fashion ; that is, for the world coming up to London, or for the world's going down to the summer bathing places ; for the former, something that may be read in a hurry for the first season, and for the latter, something that will keep them awake under the soporific influence of driving over the same sands or lounging at the same booksel- lers'. If we succeed in this latter, our business is complete. THE REFUSAL. 143 The astonishing enlargement of the human capacity whidi we old Grecians in literature have lived to be- hold, proves the vast utility of this perpetual succes- sion of novelties. Formerly, no one ventured to talk of a book on which they had not deeply pondered, now, though every body sets up for an universal judge as well as reader, few do more than skim the cream of every production, which, thanks to the perspicuity of the writer and printer, may be done as rapidly as we cut the leaves. A friend of mine, who has the cha- racter of a hard student, and writes the literary de- partment of a magazine, limits herself to the perusal of six volumes a morning, which she gets through with such ease, that she assures me she could cut up as many more only she is afraid of injuring her eyes. — She misses very little except the natural philosophy and morality, which she says is always of the same sort. Considering the rate at which she travels, I must do her the justice to say she is extremely fortunate in her guesses, rarely misunderstanding her author so much but that, when you read her criticism, you will find as near a resemblance as between some eminent public characters and their caricatures in a print shop, which I admit to be a sufficient likeness. Unless, therefore, we belong to that enviable class of our community who write books of riddles, analyse popular games, or compose songs for new music, we must never presume to answer the continual demand for something new by requesting the world to pick out a few morsels from among the undigested fragments of our last regale. The insult would be as gross as to place hashed mutton and broiled drumsticks before a gourmand, or to present a rural belle with a last year's turban. Without adverting to hard times and heavy taxes, or descending to the trite inapplicable jests of Tuinger and poverty (so ill suited to the present race of writers, who shew by their works that they con- verse with no one below the rank of a baronet, and are versed in all the nice arcana of polite life) this voraci- ous appetite in readers binds us, who cater and cook N 2 144 riIE REFUSAL. for the public, like Ixion, to a never-resting wheel , and as we are absolutely forbidden to stand still, I trust we may have permission to plead the infirmity of our nature, and be allowed to publish our dreams. — Nay, we hope the frequency of our naps will rather be ascribed to our extreme avidity to gratify our read- ers, than to indifference to their approbation. Having thus asserted the right, by proving the ne- cessity, of an author's dozing, I might enlarge upon the various advantages resulting from that practice, but shall confine myself to one, which is in such high estimation as to swallow up ail others, I mean expedi- tion. I do not refer to the inconceivable celerity of thought and imagination when we are actually enjoy- ing bodily repose ; the benefit I allude to results from a total absence of those faculties, and simply means the mechanical velocity with which the pen is known to move when the writer is entirely disburthened of ideas, and unrestrained by judgment ; and the rapi- dity with which a reader gets through a book after he has discovered that the author really has no .meaning. Under these circumstances, it may be hoped that we shall yet see a thicker harvest of literature. A fine gentleman might compose a farce without injuring his constitution, and a lady of fashion write a sonnet with- out bringing on a nervous fever ; and as gaping in company is known to be infectious, may we not hope that works composed under a soporific influence will reunite the two-fold attributes anciendy ascribed to Apollo, and induce physicians, instead of proscribing study to recommend it as one of their infallible narco- tics, so that hereafter we may hear of two pages of poetry and three of prose being ordered as a night draught instead of paregoric or laudanum ? What infinite advantages will not the public derive from hav- ing mischievous activity thus innocently employed, and how much must parents and masters rejoice at seeing a choice spirit or a bel esprit thus charmed into quietness? What a golden aerA too will this be for myself and all the humbler votories of the muse, when, THE REFUSAL. 145 besides the public being compelled to take our works, certain gentlemen who have lately made much noise in the world will absolutely be ruined. For let people say what they please about their verses, 'tis certain, like Macbeth, " they murder the innocent sleep," and, however distilled or disguised, can never be used as lullabies. I might here say something respecting the antiquity of the practice of literaiy dozing, and prove, that in those venerable remains which have descended to us uninjured by the lapse of ages, we may discover in- dubitable proofs, that the poppy was always permitted to hold a place in the garland of bays. But it is not very prudent for us moderns to put our readers in mind of the ancients, who seem to have been an austere race of people, and if ever they indulged in a little drowsiness it was only, like the halt of a race-horse, that they might recover their breath and rouse their faculties to more vigorous exertion. I do not advise my contem- poraries to nod like Homer, who wakens with his own Jupiter, and lays about him in such a manner as to harrow the nerves of his readers ; nor would I have them dream with Livy, who puts so much of the ter- rible into his visions, that one is as much agitated by them as by waking truths. When people read to gain information, or to lighten the toils of business, these stimuli were necessary, but now, since we only want a book to kill time, to fill up the pauses of dissipation, or (if it be a work of repute,) to say we have read it, every thing which impedes despatch, or fixes atten- tion, should be avoided. We should therefore manage the transitions from sleeping to waking with such per- fect equanimity of style, and glide from dreaming to prosing with such quiet movements, that we may never disturb the repose of our readers, nor afford them a criterion to judge of the duration of our own. I am aware I give the critics great advantage by my ingenuousness, and I anticipate a thousand such trite witticisms as that, my works are written to exemplify and my rules fabricated to put off my works. I will 146 TIIE REFUSAL allow them to say, " poor old Mrs. Prudentia confesses she has fallen into a lethargy," and that a they heartily wish her a long good-night." I only beg to assure them, that my partiality for my own productions has not made me unjust to their lucubrations, and that I should not have dared to recommend somnolency to authors had I not detected their worships nodding upon the bench, and not only passiflg sentence when they knew not what they were about, but actually continu- ing in such a profound trance, that all the remonstrances of an infuriated author clamouring for justice could not dissolve it, nor restore them to such a limited use of their faculties as to say why they put words into his mouth which he did not utter, or drew conclusions from his arguments which he pointedly disavowed. I know the enemies of these disciples of Zoilus say, that, like morose husbands when they feign themselves asleep, they are only suiky ; but as I am a staunch ad- vocate for these gentlemen, in gratitude for their mark- ed liberality to me, I must insist, that it is impossible to analyze modern literatm'e in the gross without re- ceiving as much injury from its soporific effluvia as chymists do from preparing opium. Besides this, a reviewer is subject to many indigenous diseases pecu- liar to the soil on which he is bred, especially that la- mentable complaint, a party fever, which is not only ac- companied with an inversion of the optic nerves, unac- countable nauseas, frantic, delirious incoherent ravings, and other dreadful symptoms, aggravated by total in- sensibility to his own situation, but often ends in a coma or morbid sleepiness which no admonitions, hu- man or divine, nor even the crush of nature and the fall of worlds, could terminate. Now, as writing is found to have the same effect upon this disorder as copious perspiration has upon most febrile cases, and as the unhappy sufferers can continue to use their pens to the last stage of the disease, and even find some re- lief to their sufferings by recording their delirious con- jectures, I think we ought to look with more compas- sion than indignation on those lucubrations which tend THE REFUSAL. 147 to shew the advantages of despotism, and the honour and generosity of Napoleon : which teach us that the best wav of acquiring habits of laborious research and dispassionate investigation is to devote our time to dis- sipation, and instruct us to submit our minds to pre- judice till we discover that kindness to our adulterous connections is sublime virtue, and that he is the most rational of all philosophers who endeavours to weaken the faith of others without having allowed himself time to examine the evidences of the religion he la- bours to subvert. Such decisions require pity rather than argument, and surely I may hope for an eulogium on my candour when I declare, that they must have been uttered while the reviewer was light-headed, or labouring under the insensibility of party fever, which, whether it rage against church or state, public charac- ters, or private individuals, is a calamity truly tremen- dous and stupifying. I have now only to state in what part of their work authors may most advantageously indulge in repose. The commencement is not adviseable, because there they ought to appear smart upon the principle of the old adage concerning the efficacy of new brooms j and I strongly adjure them, if they would escape the im- mediate ravage of the trunk-maker, to be wide awake when they draw up their title page, especially if they belong to the class of novel writers. Who, for in- stance, would select for the companion of their after- noon siesta, " a Winter in Wisbeach Fen," " Adven- tures in Dunstable," or " Characters from White- chapel ?" Let them also continue to rub their eyes till they have named all their principal characters, and fixed their residences ; for as no one can care about Miss Molly Muggleton of the Minories, or Peter Per- kins of Pimlico, so there is some inconvenience in per- petually recurring to the Harlowes, Byrons, Delvilles, and other classical families, as it may produce compa- risons, which are truly odious. After the title and the names are happily chosen, and expectation excited by 148 THE REFUSAL. a promise of some bustle and some scandal, the author may compose herself, and trust to the works of her contemporaries for incidents and characters, which, with a little neat patch-work and a few slight sketches of embroidery, will never be found out. This recipe for making a novel will always answer, and an old dish tossed up with new sauce will furnish collops and ra- gouts for successive entertainments. 'Tis true, there are times when both author and reader must be somewhat on the alert. I do not mean at the catastrophe ; we know by the first four pages whether the heroine is to die or to be married, and no other conclusion is admissible, because one of these events always happens to beautiful young women. But when we gratify malevolence and excite curiosity by some strong touches of personality, it is proper to ex- ercise consideration sufficient to preserve a striking likeness, and to avoid running into the net of justice. For though a prosecution for slander gives eclat, it is now so trodden a path to renown, that libelling is thought to be an unprofitable and consequently declin- ing trade. I would therefore advise my kindred of the quill, when they would traffic with the cant phrase of some celebrated wit, describe the shrug of a well known fine gentleman, or remodel the irregularities of a popular duchess, to be a little careful not to strew thehr vices and follies too thickly. And if, for the sake of effect, they find that they must make the wit a swin- dler, the fine gentleman a coward, and the great lady a courtezan, let them take care to introduce some dissi- militude, which may enable them to creep out of those trammels with which judges and juries are apt to ham- per the exuberances of fancy. I own it is difficult to adopt our periods of vigilance and indulgence so as to render them congenial to the feelings of our different readers. A young hoyden sympathetically goes to sleep at the commencement of a parental lecture, or admonitory letter from a maiden aunt, and a lady of fashion finds the yawning propen- THE REFUSAL. 149 sity increase with each preparation for removing the he- roine into the country. Indeed, unless there be an ab- solute necessity for a bower-scene between two lovers, an elopement at the garden gate, or an insuperable want of moonlight and nightingales for a ready-made sonnet, I would not recommend going into the country at all. Very little can be made of a picquet engage- ment with the curate, and when we have puzzled our brains to arrange and describe the whole posse comita- tus of a rustic neighbourhood they are people whom nobody knows, and unless we do the thing by sheet work they will not earn us a shilling. Maiden aunts and rigid grandmothers employed in spreading plais- ters and scolding forward misses, were tolerable when Juliet looked through a lattice, and Romeo " with love-light wings o'erleap'd the garden wall." But as my aunt and my grandmother are now fixed at their card-table in the assembly-room of Bath or Margate, pray let them chaperon Juliet to the ball, and give her an opportunity of looking at Romeo while he lounges gracefully against the wainscot, too indolent even to use his opera-glass, overwhelmed, not with admiration but fatigue, and vowing not eternal fidelity, but that; dancing is a bore and the girls are troublesome. But of all literary dozing the moral nap is most de- lightful, because it may be enjoyed with the most com- plete security from interruption, and with the certainty of diffusing the same divine oblivion of " low-thought- ed care" over the minds of our readers. This ad- mirable soporific is thus easily composed. To one grain of Johnson add a pound of Sterne, melt them in a crucible till they perfectly amalgamate ; this is the only difficult part of the process, for the particles are extremely heterogeneous. You must pour in a little tincture of religion, which you may procure either from the " Economy of Human Life," the " Essay on Man," or any German treatise on divinity. Sweeten it with a great quantity of Voltaire's liberality, beat it to a froth, then swallow it while in a state of efferves- 150 THE REFUSAL. cence, and begin to write immediately. I only know one narcotic more infallible. Gentle reader, wouldst thou be immortalized like the sleeping beauty, and completely " shrouded in a suit of moral spleen ?" read the whole four and twenty volumes composed by the elaborate Mrs. Prudentia Homespun, and then it may be said of thee, requiescat in pace. «* / 4 Jm>: [ 151 J CHAPTER IX. " Indeed my nature's easy, I'll ever live your most obedient wife, Nor ever any privilege pretend Beyond your will." Otway. FROM the preliminary steps which are already re- corded, the history of these august nuptials passed to their next stage of celebrity, and furnished conversa- tion for routs and morning calls. It will be always ne- cessary to observe, that I am speaking of old times, when the entertainment of conversation really existed, before all the world was in such a hurry that not hav- ing a moment to lose every body talked at the same time, like the inhabitants of a rookery in the building season. As it was not necessary to make fifty calls in a morning, or to assemble five hundred people at your evening party, there was time to hear replies, and any very interesting event might be talked of a week after it happened. Such was Lord /ivondel's matrimonial connection. Some termed it an exceedingly proper union, others a very nabob-like speculation on the part of his ci-devant excellency, a sort of Othello and Des- demona story, only they hoped it would end better. Lastly, at best it was Hebe waiting upon Jupiter, for all agreed Jupiter's nod would be decisive, and the pretty young Hebe would soon sink into a mere cup- bearer. In order to exemplify these opinions, and to give a little relief to my leading characters, let us suppose Lady Mackintosh (now changed into Lady Caddy, by her husband's receiving the title of Sir Joseph) meeting the Marchioness of Glenvorne at a masquerade, the former, dragging her happy baronet from the supper vol. i. o 152 THE REFUSAL. table to introduce him to the coui't lady, who, with much polite affectation of interest, was showering her congratulations, and lamenting the length of time which had elapsed since she met Lady Caddy in De- vonshire, where Sir Joseph had just secured consider- able parliamentary interest by the purchase of a large estate. After a thousand thanks, a thousand protesta- tions of the indescribable transport of this interview, we will seat the ladies side by side, and place some pine apple ice before the gentleman during the following dialogue. Lady Caddy. " So, this extraordinary match has at last taken place. I am happy to see Lord Glenvorne is not inconsolable, he has been supporting the charac- ter of Mr. Pentagon with infinite: humour." Marchioness of Glenvorne. " I find, my dear Lndy Caddy, you continue to be intimately acquainted with whatever passes in the great world*" Lady Caddy bowing. " I happened to be at Mande- ville Castle when Avondel made his conquest. I used often to look in on poor old Sir Walter, a worthy man, Lady Glenvorne, but terribly ignorant. Good little Emily had never seen a creature, so fell in love imme- diately, and my lord managed so admirably that Sir Walter actually believed he h<;d violent objections to a young heiress with lour thousand a year, and twice as much in reversionary expectations. He! he! he! Such repugnance would have been singular." Marchioness of Glenvorne. " It does not often oc- cur, but we must not judge Lord Avondel by common rules." Lady Caddy. " No, certainly. He is a being of a higher order, splendid talents, first-rate capav ity, uni- versal information. This makes me fear they never can be happy, for my good young friend is an every- day character. Merely a well-meaning girl without mental energy. But I say this in confidence. I >\ ould not breathe a syllable to her disadvantage, only your ladyship's discretion is so unquestionable." THE REFUSAL. 153 Marchioness of Glenvorne. " Your fiat, my dear madam, is too flattering. I sincerely hope Lord Avondel will reward the attachment of his lovely bride." Lady Caddy. " Ah, that's my fear after all we know : and I find it is fixed that Lady Selina Dela- more is to reside with them. 'Tis downright shock- in s-" Marchioness of Glenvorne. " I am inclined to doubt the authenticity of that report. I believe Lady Selina is too much wedded to her habits of seclusion to renew her intercourse with a world she so willingly re- signed." Lady Caddy. "Your ladyship rejoices my heart; for even supposing her to be quite correct nozv, and that all that was said was not quite true, she would be a most improper companion for the countess." Lady Glenvorne. " My dear Lady Caddy, to what do you allude . ? " Lady Caddy. " Oh, I never attempt to explain that mysterious business. My dearest Sir Joseph, I really must interdict that amazing quantity of ice. You know the opinion of your phvsicians. The best of creatures, only such delicate health. The last sen- tence was uttered in a whisper to the Marchioness, who observed that Lady Caddy was the happiest woman in the world to have had two such charming husbands, adding she was well acquainted with Sir Jeremy. " Were you, indeed," returned Lady Caddv, " I thought I never should have survived him. My dear- est Sir Joseph, I really must take you from the side- board, you will certainly bring an a spasmodic atcack, and then only think what I shall endure." The ladies now curtsied and parted, Lady Caddy satisfied with the eclat of being seen in close conversation with a Marchioness, and Lady Glenvorne happy that she had done her duty in making a little sacrifice to support her son's parliamentary importance. The honey-moon had now expired, and the Avon- dels were re-settled in Berkley-square, whence Sir !54 THE REFUSAL. Walter, gratified by the fulfilment of all his earthly wishes, had removed to Mandeville castle. Emily was by this time quite convinced that she had not overrated the virtues of htr lord, and that she had obtained a complete knowledge of his temper, though uniform habits of whatever is great and good could not rightly be described by a term which implies caprice and infir- mity. She t hevefore continued wrapped in bright and blissful visions, somewhat clouded however by her re- gret, that she must often be deprived of her lord's so- ciety, and her fear that she should be unequal to fill the public station his ministerial connections required her to occupy. The society and advice of her aunt became therefore the only remaining desideratum that was wanting to crown her bliss, and she was particu- larly anxious to secure it during her noviciate in life, well knowing that the errors and awkwardness of a de- but are remembered by the uncandid when graceful ease has supplanted trembling ignorance, and the fine polish of- self-respecting politeness has rubbed off the irregularities of careless, sincerity. On re-perusing Lady Selina's letters, she discovered a suggestion that the separation was not meant to be perpetual, but was only to last till she was Lady A vondel, and had made herself perfectly acquainted with her lord's tem- per and secure of his affections. The interdict was therefore in her opinion removed, as these events had taken place ; she accordingly resolved to communicate her wishes to her husband, and engage him to over- come her aunt's reluctance. She felt convinced that mistake and causeless pique, combining with exube- rant delicacy, had been her motive for declining an invitation, which probably she would readily accept were it communicated in proper form, and sanctioned by the request of him from whom it ought to ori- ginate. The countess determined not only to press her suit immediately, but to heighten the certainty of success by a little romantic effect. She took care to be surprized by her lord in the act of kissing her aunt's picture, and THE REFUSAL. 155 to hurry it away with a mock embarrassment, which indicated a desire to be thought detected in a fault. Avondel gaily proclaimed himself of a jealous disposi- tion, and protested that a regard for his own honour made it necessary he should discover all her intrigues. Emily frankly avowed her guilt, told him he had a ri- val whom she must ever love, on whom she had doated from her infancy, and without whom she could not be happy. " It was the person who first taught me to love you," said she, playfully holding up the picture he attempted to force from her. Supposing it the mi- niature of her uncle, the earl threw over it a vacant glance, which soon settled in a glare of horror. He shuddered, staggered against a chair, his hand still holding Lady Avondel, but it was with a cold convul- sive grasp. The pale and morbid expression of his countenance alarmed the countess. " You are ill, my dearest Lord," said she. " No, not ill," was his re- ply. He attempted to walk across the room, but his emotion was too violent for disguise. After a sort of gasping pause, he asked his young bride how long she had possessed that picture ? The terrified Emily an- swered that it was given her by her deai'est aunt, Se- lina D<4amore, the friend and guide of her infancy, and next himself her best protector and friend. ** She your friend," exclaimed the earl, " she the guide and protector of your infancy! the worthless wo- man who perjured herself to make ma wretched !" In- dignation diffused a burning glow over his countenance while he confessed how poignantly he felt his well-re- mtmbered wrongs. Emily sunk involuntarily upon her knees, and bathed her lord's hand with tears. " O forgive me," she cried. " If you forbid I will not desire her society > but indeed I must ever love her." " Do you then," said the earl, fixing an eye of stern regard upon his wife, justify her, and believe I provoked the treatment I endured?" " Never, never," returned the countess, alarmed be- yond measure at the first harsh expression she had o 2 156 THE REFUSAL. ever heard from the god of her idolatry. " Till now I never knew who had wronged you. But my aunt is so good, so just, so consistent, I must believe some strange mistake, some calumnious misrepresentation." " Go on, madam, if you suppose that even had the whole world preferred an accusation against me she would have been justified in discharging me unheard, circumstanced as we then were." " O my lord, call me still your Emily. Indeed, I should have believed you against the whole world." " Hear me, my Emily," said the earl, raising her, "this posture becomes neither you nor me. I am con- vinced that I have not a second time embarked my peace where perfidy or guilt threatens me with instant shipwreck. I never practised disguise to you, I told you I had loved. My present distress so overpowers my fortitude that you must perceive mine was no com- mon passion. You say Selina educated you from in- fancy, did .she ever explain to you the motives for her conduct?" " Never." " Yet you say she taught you first to love me ?" Lady Avondel then related the circumstances attend- ing the opening of the casket, and added, though her aunt's behaviour on that occasion excited some suspi- cions of their early attachment, yet when she heard the story of her lord's wrongs she deemed it impossi- ble they could originate from a woman whose virtue and wisdom she had so long known and so deeply revered. " Listen to me, Emily," said the earl : " Selina De- lamore was exquisitely beautiful, (his eye glanced on the miniature which lay upon the table, and then re- volted as from the sight of a basilisk). She was ex- quisitely beautiful," he repeated in a faultering accent, while the strong recollection of her attractions bewil- dered his discourse. " She had at least the appear- ance of innocence, truth, superior delicacy, correct judgment"— THE REFUSAL. 157 " O she possesses the reality," interrupted the coun- tess, " she is a pattern of piety, goodness, and benevo- lence." " Tell me," said the earl, sighing and pressing the hand of his wife, " You certainly resemble her ; tell me where does she live ?" " At Lime Grove, my lord, in — — shire ; she leads a life of most perfect retirement and sanctity." " And does she know of our union ?" " O yes, I correspond with her frequently. In all her letters she does the fullest justice to your high de- serts, and instructs me to deserve you." " Shall I," said the earl, " too severely task your acquiescence by requesting you to tell me what you know of Selina's history r" Emily readily complied. It was interwoven with her own. She just recollected the death of her mo- ther, who fell an early victim to a life of dissipation. She remembered being wayward, sickly, and neglected, when her aunt removed her from an unprincipled go- verness, who despised the unvalued girl, and flattered the promising heir, till the pitiable orphans increased their misfortunes by mutual enmity. She depicted the infantine establishment at Lime Grove, where they grew healthy, happy, and affectionate. Her first afflic- tion was the loss of her bi-other's society when her uncle removed him to Mandeville Castle. The rest of her narrative, except what the reader already knows, was a description of Lady Selina's manners and habits. As her limited fortune restricted her expenses, she was ra- ther uniformly benevolent than liberally beneficent, and whoever knows the lower orders knows also that they who are most lavish are generally most admired. The neighbouring society was not much to her taste. Ill health often forbad her to cultivate it. She had many resources within herself, and necessity obliged her to retrench all superfluous expenses ; she was therefore seldom seen beyond her own precincts, except when called abroad by the dictates of piety, charity, or ge- neral good will. For though she was indifferent to the 158 THE REFUSAL. applause of the million, she was most conscientious in the discharge of every duty that charity, justice, or compassion imposed. As a mistress, the serenity of her temper made her adored by her domestics, and indeed all who knew her well were unanimous in her praise ; but these were too few to remove the general impressions which Lady Avondel admitted were dis- advantageous to her aunt's character. A seclusion, chosen and persevered in from concealed motives, of whose propriety no one could judge, a frugality impo- sed by circumstances of which she never complained, and which she never discovered, lest she should seem to throw an odium on those who left her in difficulties so unsuited to her birth, and a melancholy arising from many untold sorrows ; were often denominated pride, ill-nature, and covetousness, by the sons and daughters of vulgar jollity, who rank perpetual festivity among the duties of life, and plead their aversion to commun- ing with their own hearts, in proof that they are very sociable," pleasant characters. Lady Avondel knew too little of the importance of wealth, and the inconveniences which her aunt suffered from the want of that passport to favour, to explain as fully as I have done the general impression which the neighbourhood entertained of Lady Selina. She chiefly dilated on her piety, her meekness and resigna- tion, which were all of a sublime and beatific cast. It was not the self-accusing submission of a contrite Magdalen, that appeared in this holy recluse, but the devotedness and calm expectation of a Madona. The tears which occasionally filled her eyes seemed not to spring from self-reproach. " I have often," said the countess, " while I looked at her, thought she had much to complain of, but that she was too good to murmur, and indeed merely by her sufferings from ill health she has endured a martyrdom. Above twenty years ago she broke a blood vessel ; since which her lungs have been so very weak that she is generally con- fined to her chamber in severe weather. There she reads, prays, and meditates, prepares medicines for the THE REFUSAL. 159 sick, works for the poor, or fabricates remembrances for her friends. She gives little trouble, and I never heard her complain. She smiles when pale with dis- ease, or exhausted with anguish, and while I have wept over her she only talked of her many blessings, and the inexpressible comfort of that 'peace of mind which passes all understanding.' " Lord Avondel's eyes were filled with tears at Emily's artless narrative. It did not paint the Selina he once knew, the pure though playful and affectionate idol of his youthful heart. The smiles of silent fortitude and christian resignation were different from those with which hope, love, and joy, irradiated her enchanting visage when she talked of a life of felicity with her adored Avondel ; yet, surely, she was just what he might expect her to become, when wounded by incura- ble affliction. In one point the resemblance was exact. She discovered the same anxiety to act rightly rather than to be much admired. Praise was not at all times necessary to her content. Selina, satisfied with the ap- probation of her own heart, awaited the decision of that tribunal which reviews motives as well as actions. Avondel felt what he termed a noble avarice for fame. Selina indulged no proud contempt for the opinions of her fellow creatures, but the applause of the world was insufficient for one, who, in the silent dictates of her own heart, anticipated the judgment of Omniscience. The earl now asked his young bride, why her inti- mate connection with her aunt had been thus late and reluctantly discovered ? Emily, after explaining her uncle's injunctions, and what she esteemed his unfound- ed aversion to Selina, put into his hands the correspon- dence which is contained in the eighth chapter. Lord Avondel retired to ruminate, and Emily had now lei- sure to reflect on her own impatience in not quietly sub- mitting to the wise restrictions which her aunt had imposed. But curiosity still continued to be a power- ful stimulus. The mystery was only in part develop- ed, and while she felt gratified in having her own opi- nion of Selina's worth confirmed by so powerful an 160 THE REFUSAL. attestation as the fixed attachment of such a man as Lord Avondel, her utter inability to guess at the ob- stacles which could separate these congenial minds caused a very painful emotion. For herself, she felt that her honoured aunt was the onlv person to whom she could allo^ 1 a preference in her husband's affections, and she still hoped such a disclosure might be made as would re-unite those in friendship who had been dis- joined in love. Meantime, Lord Avondel, with tremulous impati- ence, ran over the well-known characters of the belov- ed of his soul. Kis heart swelled with anguish at every allusion to her own situation, and every testimony which she gave to his deserts. He sometimes blamed the proud resentment which had prevented him from making any inquiry after her, and had even caused him to cherish a hope that she was no more. He knew that Lady Honoria Mandeville was heiress to the house of Delamore, and consequently sister to Selina, but Sir Walter's dislike of his brother's wife occasioned a general reserve at Mandeville Castle respecting every branch of the house of Montolieu ; and Lady Selina had kept up but a slight intercourse with her own fa- mily. From these reasons, added to a lapse of time, and the intervention of other objects, Lord Avondel did not call to mind the connection till Emily's resem- blance of her aunt brought it to his recollection at the time that he discovered in the young lady the symp- toms of a growing attachment. Whether from unex- tinguished love or cherished resentment, certainly this near relationship to his first choice was one motive for his wishing to avoid a permanent connection with a fa- mily which he thought honour required him to re- nounce for ever. But imperious circumstances had prescribed a dif- ferent conduct. His wife was not only the niece of Selina, but formed and fashioned under her auspices. " She had been the guide of her infancy, her protector, without whose society she never could be happy, the person who had taught her to love him, and whom she THE REFUSAL. 161 must ever tenderly regard." These were words he never could forget. How great and alarming was the influence which they implied, especially if exercised by an artful and treacherous, or even by a rash mis- guided woman. Had she not renounced him confess- edly without any provocation ? to what extravagance might she not impel his wife ? and how dangerous a fomenter of family quarrels might such a woman prove ? Inadvertencies would become crimes, and differences sweil into disgusts. W.is there in the whole train of possibilities any combination of circumstances which could justify Selina's conduct to him, or reconcile it to the rules of honour and pood sense ? and till this was done, must not her protegee, her adopted child, whose mind she had formed and avowedly governed, be viewed with more of dread than confidence ? True, she had all the appearance of artless innocence and chaste attachment, but so hod Selina the evening he left her to prepare Avon park for the reception of its future mistress. . Painful recollection ! Innocence and fidelity assumed in her at that well-remembered inter- view a higher character than in the quiet passive Emi- ly. The latter had the unoffending simplicity, and indiscriminate attachment, of an amiable girl ; the enlarged understanding and exalted sentiments of Se- lina conveyed an idea of seraphic purity and affection. The love ot Selina was like that of a superior being, acting as a watchful guardian to some beloved charge, Emily was a weak timid creature clinging to him for protection, conscious of inferiority, fearful of offend- ing him, and willing to sacrifice, even his character to gratify his inclinations or allay her own terrors. The reader will easily discover, which of these ladies Lord Avondei thought best adapted to him for a wife, but I would not have him from thence conclude that he formed a right judgment. The result of these reflec- tions was, that Emily should urge her aunt to explain her reasons for writing the letter of May 175", and , on her answer the correspondence between them was 162 THE REFUSAL. positively to depend. The young countess eagerly un- dertook the task, convinced that the mystery would be so explained as fully to justify Selina's conduct, and produce that perfect reconciliation, which she now found wanting to complete the bliss of her conjugal paradise. [ 163 ] CHAPTER X. O let thy soul Remember, what the will of heaven ordains Is ever good for all, and if for all, Then good for thee. Not only by the warmth And s jothing sunshine of delightful tilings, Do minds grow up and flourish. AKEKSIDE. A FEW posts brought Lady Avondel the following letter. " My dearest Lady Avondel, " Your happiness being the first wish of my heart, I willingly renounce every consideration immediately connected with myself, and though I might briefly answer your letter by acknowledging rnat I tr>ve given your lord most just cause to hate and despise me, I khink myself called upon to satisfy (as far as my con- science will permit) the anxiety which your mind must feel, and which I can well appreciate. " My history is melancholy, but it is connerted with what yon wish to know. About the tine of my birth, so' e unh..ppv reasons occasioned mv mother to S' pa- rat" from Lord Montolieu. Mv sister, Ladv Hono- ria Mandeviile, continued with her father, and I re- mained with my mother, who received a separate maintenance, till the death of her husband put her in possession of her jointure. She then return ■ d to the world from which she had long been exiled. She procured for me the best masters, and introduced me to the first circles, though she knew mv fortune was onlv a small annuity, ad the Deia.nore estates having been consigned to your mother, who was the declared favourite of \our grandfather. My poor mother at- tempted to renew her long-interrupted intercourse with VOL. i. p 164 THE REFUSAL. this child, but it was cold and formal, unlike the warm affections which result from family harmony. She soon after married Sir James Mandeville, without asking the approbation of her surviving parent and even the forms of civility were then suspended. " Lady Montolieu, became disgusted with the world, and resolved to bury herself in retirement. — The motive which she assigned for this change of plan was to save a fortune for me, but I believe some mor- tifications aud neglects from her former friends occa- sioned that resolution. Her health was then good, and seemed to promise success to her maternal exertions in my favour ; and certainly it was a painful sacrifice in one who was still young, beautiful, and fitted to fill a conspicuous place in the first circles. A country so- litude presented no charms to her imagination, and her temper, which had never been corrected in her vouth, now became extremely burthensome to herself and others. I hope I was not materially wanting in my duty, but my hours passed very painfully. I murmured sometimes in secret, for I was very young, Emily, and passionately attached to the world. I had acquired a strong relish, for its pleasures without dis- covering that they were interspersed with cares and dangers. I fancied innocence had a right to happi- ness ! Ah ! my child, how many useful lessons are taught by adversity. " I was thus situated, when I received an invitation from a friend of my mother's to pass the winter with her in London. The countess, though she sometimes reproached me with causing all her wretchedness, ten- derly loved me, and perceiving my health and spirits injured by a close attendance on her, she consented to relinquish my society for a few months. I returned to London with every sanguine hope a young and ardent mind could form, delighted at the prospect of renew- ing an intercourse with many beloved companions, above all with the Marchioness of Gienvorne, who had recently formed a most happy and honourable alli- ance. An important event signalized this excursion. THE REFUSAL. 165 I engaged the affections of the Earl of Avondel, then in the bloom of youth, universally admired and uni- versally beloved. I will not expatiate on my feelings when assured that I was the object of his choice. Ask your own heart, my Emily ; mine was as attached to his person, and as sensible of his virtues. " But I must tell you, for probably his delicacy will not, the circumstances under which he avowed his passion. It was only by his frequent visits to Mrs. Spencer's, and his refined attentions to me, that I was induced to hope I had attracted his regard, since a man of his honour and good sense would abhor the mean triumph of misleading inexperience. It was in his presence Mrs. Spencer received a letter from Ur. R. informing her, that he had been sent for to attend the Countess of Montolieu, whom on his arrival he found dead, after an illness of a few hours. Mrs. Spencer spoke with great concern of mv friendless, unprovided situation ; and it was then Avondel generously declar- ed his wish to engraft me on his noble stock. The two-fold intelligence was communicated to me at the same time. Emily, I will open to you my whole heart. It was said I bore my mother's death with for- titude, but I never loved her. I trust I performed my duty, but her wayward temper and extreme seve- rity repressed affection. I knew not that her soul was pierced with incurable sorrows, and I too much con- sidered, that through her misconduct I had been de- prived of the protection of my father, and the love of my kindred. Her death therefore rather inspired a selfish apprehension for my own future lot, than the tender emotions of filial regret. To know at that mo- ment that I was not to be thrown upon the world, a friendless orphan with a scanty provision, inadequate to the claims of my birth, and insufficient to extort that respect to my youthful attractions which would awe the licentious from attempting to ensnare my in- experience : to be invited to partake the fortunes of a man whose personal merits conferred honour on his high dignity and ancient house ; to be offered the pro- 166 THE REFUSAL. tection of one of the first characters in the kingdom, and thus be -held forth as an object of envy instead oi commiseration ; — Wonder not, my child, that the re- membrance oi my early sorrows faded like the recol- lection of a distressing dream, when our eyes open to the beauty of a summer morning ; or that I surrender- ed my whoie soul 10 the delight of inspiring and che- rishing virtuous and happy love. " It was at this time that I first discovered the ver- satility of the world. The future Countess of Avon- del was as much courted and admired, as the indi- gent Selina Delamorehad been dreaded and neglected. I received numerous invitations, every matron of rank offered to be my chaperon. I was the glass of fashion and the ornament of societ\ . The most agreeable cir- cumstance connected with this inundation of good will was my restoration to the countenance of my family. I received an invitation to Mandeville Castle, and was • civilly treated by your father and mother ; yet, as I did r.ot experience that full cordiality which I had hoped for, I shortened my visit, and resolved not to introduce Lord Avondel to them till as his wife I should feel myself elevated above the mortification of perhaps undesigned negligencies. "The day, my Emily, as" you have heard, was fixed; the nuptial attire purchased; the settlements drawn according to the liberal plan dictated by his ge- nerous heart. He left me in order to prepare Avon park for my reception, and I returned to my mother's late residence to make the small arrangements in my province. We met no more ! — 1 wrote the letter which I am required to explain: — I had motives for it — im- perious motives, which I cannot divulge: nor would the discovery contribute to lord Avondel's peace ; on the contrary, I am convinced it would overwhelm him with horror. " As concealment now became my duty, I fled where no one knew me and she who but a few hours before looked forward to bridal happiness, title, for- tune, every desirable good which is ranked in the cata- THE REFUSAL. 167 logue of earthly blessings, became a dubious wander- er, an unknown stranger, who, like a proscribed cri- minal, sought concealment under a borrowed name ; and at the moment when she most wanted consolation and support, estranged herself from all she loved. In the morning of my life, I looked forward to my future existence as to a cheerless void, unvisited by hope, unillumined by the endearing sympathy of social affec- tion ! " Do not, my beloved Emily, compliment my forti- tude. It consisted merely in enabling me to live through the early period of my trial. You must not suppose that, when the blow was first struck, I sup- ported my disappointment with the equanimity you have been accustomed to see me exert in those happier hours, when the playful prattle of yourself and your brother made me feel that there was something worth living for. I brought into the agonizing confines of affliction a heart strongly attached to sublunary good, and proportionably cold to those better prospects our high calling enjoins us to prefer. I am now one of those who, with resigned humility and grateful content, can enumerate the advantages, nay the blessings, of calamity. You have heard of the accident which has occasioned me so much bodily suffering ; it was caused by the stormy emotions of rebellious grief. During the state of extreme weakness to which it reduced me, terrestrial happiness assumed a very different aspect to that it exhibited when youth, health, hope, and love taught me to forget I was merely a pilgrim and sojour- ner on earth. Stretched on the bed of infirmity, and, as I believed, of death, the forlorn Selina Delamore escaped those pangs which the beloved wife of Avon- del must have felt. If I wanted the support and com- fort of sympathizing tenderness, I did not endure the miserv of witnessing the anguish of a heart whose peace was dearer to ine than my own. I mused upon his glories, I prayed Heaven to shield him in the day of danger, but the ties which bound him to a wretch p 2 168 THE REFUSAL, like me, were dissolved, and thus death had lost half its terrors. " Yet, I was not bereft of all external consola- tions. I had the assistance of a faithful servant, the confidential attendant on my mother. Notwith- standing the mysterious air of my concealment, my appearance interested strangers, who, in my extreme sufferings, forgot the suspicions they had en- tertained of .my character, and showed to an unknown stranger all the offices of christian charity. Among the rest, I most gratefully acknowledge the services of a skilful physician, and a judicious pious divine. The former so assisted my naturally vigorous constitution as to prevent me from falling a premature victim to grief and despair, and preserved (under providence) what I thought a valueless life, to be useful to you. The latter told me that, as the immoderate indulgence of grief argued an unsanctified rebellious spirit, so de- spair could never find the wa)' into a heart which had rot broken the injunction against placing our affections on things beneath. As my body gained strength from the restorative quality of those medicines which ' dis- played the power of art without the shew,' my mind derived energy front submission, and fortitude from meekness. I no longer proudly asked, why I was called to ibis hard trial ? what I had done to forfeit such brilliant hopes : nor why the bolt of Heaven passed by the more guilty to crush me to the earth ? In the events which had dissevered me from the object I idolized, and dissolved the fascinating visions of sublunary bliss, I recognized the mercy that substituted an omniscient and unchangeable Iking to my affections, and an eter- nal and infinite happiness to my hopes. I rose from the couch of infirmity languid and delicate in health, but strong in mird, duly appreciating the brevity of human life, anxious to secure the immortality for which it was meant to prepare me, ready to fulfil the unknown duties which inscrutable wisdom had preserved me to discharge, and so sensible that I was in the hands of one who would dispose of me in the way which would THE REFUSAL. 169 ultimately tend to my advantage, that I was able, with the most entire acquiescence, to say, ' The will of Hea- ven be done !' " I continued in obscurity some years, till the death of my sister again summoned me to the performance of active duties. She knew of my retreat, and its motives. It was necessary she should, as I received from her the annuity which was my support. She led a gay, and, as it was termed, a happy life, till she sunk under the fatigue of continual pleasure. I attended her in her last illness, and received her orphan children as a solemn trust. Sir James, who died a few months before her, had appointed his brother to be their guar- dian, but as General Mandeville was on the continent, I was for some time allowed the delightful employment of nursing and educating you both. On his return, he took George from me ; he was then of an age to re- quire being removed from female superintendance. The same prudent concern for your welfare induced him to take you also, when your time of life gave you a claim to an establishment suited to your birth and fortune. " And now, my love, you must perceive I had suffi- cient reason to decline residing with you : nor will I even expect the indulgence of your company at Lime Grove. A load of obloquy has been thrown on my character, which, as my story will not be told, I cannot remove. The wife of the Earl of Avondel must, like Caesar's, be as untainted in her fame as in her person. My misfortunes are now almost forgotten, my person is known to few. Why should the censorious, the curious, and the tattling, be invited to rake up the ashes of my mysterious history, and to cast them on your untainted for- tunes? Why should it be proclaimed, that you were educated by one who had forfeited every pretence to principle and honour? Calumny has been busy with my name, and I have never stepped forward to refute its slanders. You want no companion but your husband, no director, nor adviser, but him. 1JX) THE REFUSAL. If, however, circumstances should arise which might make a reference to an unprejudiced umpire desi- rable, any casts of decorum best submitted to fe- male indulgence and delicacy, the pen may be a faithful expositor of our reciprocal sentiments. I allude to the scarcely probable event of any differ- ence of opinion arising between you and your lord, or of your finding yourself exposed to those temp- tations from which your rank and the reputation of your husband, if attended by discretion and exemplariness of manners on your part, will most probably secure you. Yet, alas ! I too well know, that neither high birth, re- putation, nor purity of intention, can prevent the daring seducer from attempting to contaminate matronly chas- tity and virgin innocence. Beware, then, my Emi- ly, lest you invite his approaches. You shudder at the suggestion; yet I must proceed. Hundreds, innocent as you, have fallen. Bury in your own bosom, I charge you, those petty differences, those shades of dissatisfaction, which (such is human in- firmity) will interrupt the "felicity of the happiest pair. Never let the world perceive that you discover im- perfections in your Avondel. Never let a word or a look intimate that you conceive yourself less nobly treated than you deserve. The licentious and the designing will build the ruin of your fame or your peace on such an intimation. The honour of a wife is seldom attempted till she shews her seducer that she may be wrought upon to hate or despise her hus- band. " I have laid open my whole heart, Emily, not knowing whether this letter is to be submitted to your lord's perusal. If the affection he bore ine have so far subdued the keen sense of injury, which his lofty mind must feel, as to induce him to forgive me, his generous heart will rejoice to hear, that his once beloved Selina is happy ; that she is so happy, so contented with her lot, and so convinced that it was a meet cor- rection of a disposition which had cultivated refine- ment of sentiment and sensibility of feeling to a de- THE REFUSAL. 171 gree that unfitted her for the conflicts of life, that she would not change her present portion even for yours, my darling child, whom she esteems the most enviable of all human beings next herself. You possess and enjoy all the good this world, can bestow, I. am still happier in having ceased to regret its loss. "Selina Delamore." [ m ] CHAPTER XL Thy oaths I quit, thy memory resign, Forget, renounce me, hate whate'er was mine. Fair eyes, and tempting looks (which yet I view) Long-lov'd, adored ideas all adieu ! Oh grace serene ! Oh, virtue, heavenly fair ! Divine oblivion of low thoughted care ! Fresh blooming hope, gay daughter of the sky ! And faith, our early immortality ! Enter, each mild, each amicable guest ; Receive, and wrap me in eternal rest ! Pope. THE young countess did not hesitate how to dis- pose of this letter. She presented it to her lord, and asked him. if it did not appear like the composition of a beatified spirit ? Such indeed it seemed to that no- bleman. Was he once so near possessing this trea- sure, did she still exist, might he never call her his, nor even know why the ties which bound her to him were dissolved ? On repeated perusals, several of Selina's expressions struck him as tending to darken rathrr than elucidate the mystery. She " knew too well the arts and the effrontery of the seducer, she was conscious of having incurred a load of obloquy, which she could not re- move. She thought her niece's fame might suffer from being intimate with her, she chose to remain in obscurity ; she acquitted him of having provoked her rejection, and she refuted the excuse he had sometimes formed of her having heard some unfounded and af- terwards disproved slander on his reputation, by own- ing that her first pangs at this separation were aggra- vated by a full conviction of his worth." Her letter told nothing but the severity of her sufferings, yet her conscience would not permit her to be more explicit ? THE REFUSAL. 173 What conclusion could he draw ? Had she after their last interview fallen a victim to brutal violence or dia- bolical fraud ? He determined to write to her himself, and urge her to entrust this fatal secret to his unques- tioned honour. Yes, he resolved to write to his Selina, but the hand even of Avondel trembled while performing the task. His last letter to her was written from Avon Park, and breathed the soul of tenderness and fond expectation. He was now the husband of another, while with vestal fidelity she still fed the never dying lamp of her early love. Ashamed of this trepidation, which unmanned the hero and degraded the statesman, he blamed his weakness, and resolved after this one act of submis- sion never more to be the puppet of a woman, but to brace his nerves by referring to her acknowledgment that she had given him cause to hate and despise her. With this determination he commenced a correspon- dence which it is my duty to give entire, especially since it passed without the knowledge of Lady Avon- del. " To Lady Selina Delamore. " Madam, " Emily availed herself of your permission to shew me your letter, and it has excited the liveliest compas- sion for your sufferings and admiration of your pre- sent composed sad devout state of mind. But as vou have not explained the motives that induced you to re- nounce your vows to me, I still know not whether I ought to condemn or applaud the principles on which they were grounded, and which caused you to sacrifice your own happiness and cloud my brightest hopes. I cannot assume that language of distant respect which a keen remembrance of my wrongs might seem to de- mand. It is you I address, the adored associate of my happiest days, and I lose in that thought all vindic- tive recollection of the pangs you have occasioned me. By ail the confidence you once placed in my veracity, / 174 THE REFUSAL. in my inviolable secrecy, and untainted honour, trust me, I conjure you, with your whole story. You inti- mate, that it would overwhelm me with horror ; no- thing can be more exquisitely painful than the sus- pense which I have suffered for three and twenty years, during which your image has daily passed before me in the successive forms of an angel of light and a de- mon of darkness. Art thou injured and innocent, or perfidious and detestable, sporting with the keen sen- sibility of a heart which only thou couldst torture ? Tell me if the years of anguish thou hast suffered were designed as a commutation for guilt. Instruct me how to assuage thy sorrows, or where to direct the vindictive enmity which shall avenge thy wrongs. — Above all, tell me, (though I tremble to ask) might the bar, which the fatal letter that now lies before me terms insuperable, have been removed, had not I re- cently created an insurmountable impediment ? My once ingenuous Selina, resume thy former self, and as this letter again shews thte all the undisguised weak- ness, so relieve the perplexities which corrode the peace of the husband of thy gentle Emily, yet still most truly thy devoted " Avondel." " To the Earl of Avondel. " My lord, " I most readily comply with your last request. The impediment which separated us still exists, nor could it ever be removed, even if you were not now the plighted protector of an amiable affectionate creature, who lives but for your sake, and who, I trust, will prove your blessing and reward. " For myself, I am neither of those characters which your troubled fancy has often painted. I am your fel- low creature, my lord, conscious of many errors, and patiently submitting to the evils incident to a distem- p.n d body, broken spirits, and contracted fortunes, not in commutation of my offences, but because it is my THE REFUSAL. 175 Father's will to call home his wandering child by the ministry of affliction. Yet, as far as relates to my con- nection with you, I have been more sinned against than sinning. But vengeance belongs not to frail mis- judging man. No human tribunal could take cogni- zance of my wrongs, and the offenders are removed to another audit. You know not, my lord, what you asked when you offered to become my champion. " You adjure me by our past loves, by the never to be erased remembrance of that holy attachment ; I also adjure you, love my innocent Emily. Let not my misfortunes corrode your peace, for on that depends the felicity, I might say the life, of the gentle being to whom I owe the happiness of my later years. She has no faults but such extreme susceptibility and timid diffidence, as are painful to the possessor, and require the support of every generous heart. " You ask me if you can assuage my sorrows ? If, without breach of that high sense of decorum which I know you to possess, you would sometimes allow me the society of my dear adopted child at Lime Grove, I should receive every addition of joy of which my lot is capable. I submit this request to your judgment, and better knowledge of the opinion which is enter- tained of me. Emily shall never know I have formed this wish, nor will I owe its fulfilment to her tender- ness, but to your discretion. My incessant prayers are offered for your mutual happiness. Selina Delamore." " To Lady Selina Delamore. w Madam, <( Had you honoured me with the confidence I re- quested, my acquiescence with your wishes would have been guided by that clear knowledge of every cir- cumstance which now unhappily is denied me. I can therefore only repeat your own expressions, " my wife must be as untainted in her fame as in her person." Yourself, madam, must be the fittest judge, how far an intercourse with you is consistent with my honour. VOL. I. Q_ 176 THE REFUSAL. " I cannot close this soul-harrowing correspondence in the language of unforgiving resentment. Cold and distrustful as you are, I cannot divest myself of a lively interest in your fortunes. Among other evils you enu- merate that of a contracted income ; this must not be while I possess affluence. You have a natural, if not a legal right to the moiety of Emily's estate ; for Lord Montolieu's unjust preference of his eldest daughter is indefensible. Since it is your determination to conti- nue in retirement I should only encumber you by in- sisting on your taking your full share ; but, unless* jou are resolved to disregard every proposal I can make, you must allow your niece to remit you your present annual stipend every quarter, and the inclosed deed se- cures the perpetuity of this settlement. I blush to dis- cover how cruelly your liberal spirit has hitherto been circumscribed. If there be any other method by which I can alleviate your -.lifricuities, command the services of him who is ever your faithtul friend. " AVONDEL." : " EXTREME solicitude overshoots the mark." — » This adage cannot be too often repeated to those who mistake nervous susceptibility for virtue, and value the ever toiling effort as highly as the beneficial effect. — Lord Avondel's approbation was so necessary to Emily's repose, that she never could listen to those remarks which pointed at her behaviour with that state of feel- ing which promises improvement. In the agony of knowing she deserved severer censure, she lost sight of those delicate delineations of manner which would have insured his future approbation. " Did not you," said he to her, " the other night decline Lord Glenvorne's assistance at the opera, and immediately after desire Sir Joseph Caddy to conduct you to your carriage :" " Indeed I did ; it was extremely silly, but at the moment I recollected Lord Glenvorne's former pre- tensions, and I thought it would be more delicate to have a married chaperon." " I am amazed," replied the earl, " that with so much genuine delicacy you have not more of that mo- dest confidence which it tends to inspire. Lord Glen- vorne is my friend. In that capacity he offered you the common attentions of a gentleman. You started at his appearance, threw an alarmed eye round the lobby, and at last hurried off with the little nabob as THE REFUSAL. 1 8 3 if he had actually rescued you from a Sir Hargrave Pollexfen." " Did you observe me, my Lord ? I thought you were engaged in the next box." " Be assured, Emily, that wherever my attention may seem to be fixed, you are ever the most interest- ing object. I must add, I hope no one else observed you. Uncandid people might think you declined the Marquis's civilities because he was too interesting, or they might degrade me with the imputation of being an austere suspicious husband." Who durst be so ungenerous as to form such ground- less conclusions ?" said Emily, her eyes swimming with tears. u Common observers, the numerous tribe of gos- sips, those pests of every clime, from whose inventive facukies I have deeply suffered. 'Tis the occupation of the idle to watch your terrified looks, and they de- termine never to be ignorant of the secret cause of every casual, action. Let me ask you, if such ob- servers are now present would thev not be justified in reporting me to be a stern forbidding master, school- ing my trembling pupil into perfect obedience." " No," said Emily, energetically ; " they would see a generous husband bearing with the weakness of a heart which he knows to be all his own, and endea- vouring to make his wife acquire that distinction on her own account which now she only borrows from the eminence of his character." Lord Avondel acknowledged this grateful compli- ment with a smile, which seemed to say, " Whatever your faults are certainly you do not want penetration." Emily determined that next time she saw Lord Glenvorne the censorious should not quote her avoid- ance of him in proof that he was too interesting. They met at the drr. wing-room. He bowed slightly and passed on. *' Doubtless/' thought the countess, " he is piqued; now thev will determine us to be lovers. I must go and speak to him immediately." 184 THE REFUSAL. She followed him with an anxiety that prevented her from considering what she should say. She found him conversing with several gentlemen, and accosted him by his title ; but the fear of being impertinent now seized her: every subject of conversation fled from her recollection, and she could only ask if he had seen her lord. " I have the honour of presenting him to you," said the Marquis, turning to one of his campanions, " and of congratulating you, my lord, on your singu- lar felicity. In this large circle Lady Avondel only looks for vou." He bowed and retired. w Did you want me ?" said Lord Avondel, in a low tone. " No," returned Emily : " only as I was so rude to Lord Glenvorne at the opera I thought I would speak to him first." " And was there no other topic of conversation but inquiring after me ? I had but just left you : have you been spoken to r" « Yes." fi Then there is but one way to silence the invidi- ous." He laid her trembling hand upon his arm and led her to her chair. " When," said Emily, '< shall I learn to acquit my- self in public with such propriety as will preserve you from being embarrassed by my folly." " When you are content to improve those opportuni- ties of civility which spontaneously offer, without dis- tressing yourself and others by attempting to do too much. I must now go back, and apologise for the Secretary of State's being ferreted out of the diploma- tic circle by his lady. Prepare yourself to answer cards of inquiry, for I must insinuate that you were overcome by the heat of the apartment." " Would I could add I was entirely recovered from my habitual awkwardness. Seriously, my lord, I can never dare appear in public under this continual terror of disgracing you." THE REFUSAL. 185 " You use a strong and improper term. Disgrace attends guilt, and honour presides in the tribunal which jusdy banishes real criminals from society. There is, however, an inferior court governed by ridicule, and though here inflictions are allowed to be often arbitrary and unjust, I must deprecate the idea of your being exposed to her censures. As to the court of honour, Emily, never had husband less fear of seeing his wile amenable to its jurisdiction." " You are ever kind and conciliatory, my lord, and I am encouraged by thinkir.g thai" only petty trespasses come under the jurisdiction of ridicule." " I have never found," answered the earl gravely, " that persons long continued respectable after they had become ridiculous." k ' Then," said Emily, " I must as usual take shelter under your wing, and defy the shafts of undiscerning wit." " Rather learn to be self dependent. When you are alone in your own dressing room act and think as if you had hundreds observing you, and when you move in a crowded circle maintain that self-respect which will make you feel as recollected as if 3'ou were at borne." u Surely," thought Lord Avondel, as he answered the numerous inquiries after his countess on his reiurn to the drawing room, " if posterity does not recognize me as the first of statesmen, I deserve to be immortal- ized as the best of husbands!" Whoever is acquainted with the temperature of the fashionable world knows, that to keep its atmosphere in a state tit for respiration frequent agitation is neces- sary, and if routs, elopements, masquerades, and new operas, (which may be termed the hurricanes of this climate) do not succeed each other with suihcient velo- city to ward off die dangers of stagnation, some patri- otic characters contrive to prevent the morbid evils at- tendant on a dearth of conversation by inventing and calculating a lie. Now it happens in this region, as in some ottv. r parts of the world, that the medical de- partment is filled by old women, who, from time im- 186 THE REFUSAL. memorial, have been appointed to watch where the health of the community required the -animating cor- dial of a falsehood, and to drug the charmed bowl with a proper quantity of stimulating ingredients. Probably such institutions may not now subsist, but at the time I am speaking of an old cat party (as it was called) met every evening at the Duchess of Stingwell's, to talk over the events which either had happened, or were adjudged probable. The president of this divan was a woman of talent, who, with an affectation of contempt for the world, nourished a secret grudge against it for not having paid her sufficient homage, and having failed in her early years to dazzle as a beauty, she determined when she grew old to alarm as a wit. Her coterie embraced all who were seldom in- vited to other parties ; dowagers who could not afford to play deep, and spinsters whose scanty portions for- bade their taking the lead in fashion. All who were destitute of those credentials which allowed them to mix in the world, and yet wanted sufficient quietness of disposition to bid it willingly adieu. Her grace, who had been once complimented on her talent for sar- casm, was equally celebrated for cutting up the censors and the censured. Yet, though from htr keen reproofs to the former she seemed to intimate that she abhorred the innuendos which her guests circulated, she was in reality one of those splenetic valetudinarians who find both food and physic in a spirited slander. Her guests too well knew her secret propensity, and were too much gratified by being admitted to her converzasio- nes, and having a card from a carriage with a ducal coronet occasionally left at their door, to be piqued at the disdainful air with which she often received their communications, or to believe her sincere in her vindi- cation of the devoted victims they chose to asperse. On the day on which Lord Avondel felicitated him- self on having played the part of an attentive husband in the most dexterous manner, the Duchess of Sting- well held one of her attic evenings. V THE REFLSW,. 187 Mrs. Caudle introduced the subject. " I know," said she, " your grace is deeply interested in the pros- perity of the noble house or Avondel, and I have great pleasure in assuring you that an heir may be ex- pected. The countess tainted in the presence to dav, and his lordship was so alarmed and assiduous — I hear he makes a most tender husband? — " To rather an affected sill)' wile, 1 ' continued Mrs. Bloomwell. " Whether the fainting was artificial, I cannot determine, but I am sure there was some art in the rase ; for I heard her colour was quite carnation as she was carried down the great staircase." " Carried down the great staircase ?" resumed Mrs. Caudle, "• I did not hear that. Bless me, how verv shocking in her situation ! but I remember once before I was confined — " "• The fainting was not artifice, I assure your grace," observed Miss Hecatissa Gorgon ; " but I much doubt its arising from the cause Mrs. Caudle supposes. — ■ There actually Mas a most unpleasant altercation in public. Lady Auricle heard the earl vehemently scold her as he put her into the chair, and " " Poor, sweet, pretty young creature ;" exclaimed a lady, who, though past her grand climacteric, still wrote Miss Dizen upon her cards, and trembled lest Hymen should one day entrap her in his cast net ; " what dreadful creatures men are ! But Sir Walter Mandeville made up this match, and sacrificed the dear love before she knew how to act. You Lady Caddy know the whole story, for I think you almost lived at Castle MandtviUe." " No, Madam, I assure you," returned the nabob's lady colouring, " I now and then looked in on the old baronet, and punished myself with listening to his vale- tudinarian complaints. As to Lord Avondel, he never was a favourite of mine." " Nor of mine either," returned Miss Dizen. " If he had made proposals to me 1 wouid not have marri- ed him for fifty worlds. O, Lord Gienvorne was a thousand times the best connection." VOL. I. R 188 THE REFUSAL. " But," inquired the duchess, " what caused the dis- pute between the earl and countess ?" " I meant to inform your grace, if the company will permit," resumed Miss Hecatissa, significantly look- ing at Miss Dizen with the affectionate air common to rival beauties. " Lord Glenvorne and Lady Avondel were lounging against the window saying no harm in in the world ; but just chit chat, as, Lord how hot — What a quiz — I think that head tolerable — Pray do you like that architectural trimming all frieze and pilas- ter, but the wearer seems of the composite order — As I live the German baroness in her yellow satin — Well the sight of an old acquaintance is comfortable — " Miss Hecatissa stopped for the exhilerating charms of laugh, the company chimed in and she proceeded. " In the midst of these innocent remarks up stalked Lord Avondel. Your grace knows how ; stiff as a drill serjeant, and extending his right arm, said very solemnly, u Your ladyship had better go home." The poor lady, fainted away directly, and my lord followed muttering down the great staircase." The company observed, it was the most shocking affair they ever heard, and the duchess inquired if Lady Auricle heard all that passed ? " Every sen- tence," replied Miss Hecatissa. " Really," said the duchess, " her powers of hear- ing are astonishing. Was she placed in the drawing room or in the court ?" Miss Hecatissa paused, and then added, Lady Au- ricle was so kind as to follow the countess, thinking she might want assistance. " It would have been still kinder if she had been a silent assistant," resumed her grace. Lady Caddy now fanned the embers of slander which the duchess's mal-a-propos observations threatened to extinguish, by expressing her fears it was too true. — " I hope," said she, " it will not draw Lord Glenvorne into any embarrassment. His mother is the best friend I have in the world. The worthiest, most exemplary THE REFUSAL. 189 creature ! If any thing happens to her son it will break her heart ; I hope she knows nothing of it." " I don't say," continued Miss Hecatissa, that the world goes so far as to call Lord Avondel jealous, or to hint at any thing wrong about Lord Glenvorne ; but we all know she is dreadfully distressed in the mar- quis's company." Every body owned they had observed it, though in fact Lady Caddy was the only person who was autho- rised to speak on the subject by having actually wit- nessed their interviews. She alone was silent, but shook her head in a manner more impressive than the most sententious observation. She again hoped the affair was quite a secret. " It is in admirable hands to remain so," said the duchess, surveying her myrmidons. They all agreed, that since the happiness of a newly married pair, and the reputation of a lady, were most tender points, it was excessively wrong to talk of such strange proceed- ings. The assembly broke up about one o'clock, and for twelve hours very little was said upon the subject, ex- cepting to humble cousins and confidential Abigails. About noon the next day. Lady Caddy made an early call on her friend the marchioness to inquire if she had heard any thing of the young countess ? " No," returned Lady Glenvorne, " my son dined there ves- terday after the drawing-room, and escorted her to an evening party." u Was the earl at home r" " Certainly." " Was not that singular ?" u Not in the least ; for a statesman his habits are quite domestic. I perceive you have heard of Emi- ly's hurrying out of the drawing-room, be so kind as to tell me what the -orld has made of that incident." Among the daughters of discord, none are more active than the very good-natured people who always think it right to tell their acquaintance what they know will give them uneasiness. Lady Caddy was of this 190 THE REFUSAL. order. With much affected reluctance, and many hopes it would not distress her, she repeated the con- versation which passed at the duchess's, and affirmed it was the general opinion that Lord Glenvorne caused all the unhappiness ot the Avondeis. " Scarcely a day has passed," returned the marchi- oness, " without my seeing my young friend, and it is quite extraordinary news to me, to hear that she and her lord are unhappy ?" " Then," said Lady Caddy, " I do trust that the other affair is a secret." " To me, at least, it is," re- plied Lady Glenvorne; nor will I press you to di- vulge any more painful mysteries." u O, my dearest madam, I place implicit confidence in your honour. I know you will not utter a syllable, as it might ruin my informant." Then drawing her chair close, in a low whisper she assured the marchion- ess, that she knew Avondel had settled an annuity on Lady Selina Deiamore, and corresponded with her at that moment. She added, u It is too .bad. Candour cannot sug- gest an apology, to employ the poor young woman's fortune this way." Lady Glenvorne inquired, if she was sure of the fact ? and Lady Caddy vowed she could produce a person who knew her writing, and could name the so- licitor who drew up the deed of settlement. Then mustering her whole stock of inquisitorial significance, " As we have gone so far," said she, " pray do you know if the child is alive ?" " You have infinitely the advantage of me," said the Marchioness, " for I am compelled to ask you, what child ?" u Nay, my dear Lady Glenvorne, now you are too cautious. You must remember why Selina disappear- ed. Mrs. Caudle suspected her shape three months before she became invisible." " The report you allude to," replied the Marchion- ess, " was discredited by all well-informed people at the time ; and as you could then be only in your in- THE REFUSAL. 191 fancy, I must blame the convenient memory of some dealer in antiquated scandal for not telling you, that though Lord Avondel's enemies attempted to promul- gate a silly story, it was too absurd to be credited. Lady Selina was one of my earliest and dearest friends. We still occasionally correspond, and I know enough of her history to justify her character. I cannot under- take to prove a negative, but if there be any depend- ence on moral evidence, if it be fair to draw conclu- sions from an unbroken chain of circumstances, I may assert, that neither Lord Avondel nor Lady Selina ever have had cause to blush at an attachment, singularly unfortunate, I own, but not disgraceful." " You rejoice my heart," returned Lady Caddy. " My warm affections really torment me. I take too lively an interest in the distresses of those I love." " I honour sensibility," answered Lady Glenvorne, " and to make you quite happy let me assure you, even yourself and Sir Joseph are not more perfect patterns of domestic felicity than our friends in Berkley-square. Glenvorne's pretensions to Emily were well known, and I most anxiously wished to embrace her as my daugh- ter. It required, therefore, no common merit in her husband to reconcile us to an event which compelled us to renounce such cherished hopes. Glenvorne was a generous lover, he wished for the happiness of the be- loved object even if it were distinct from his own. From the ease with which he meets her, now she is Lady Avondel, and his warm admiration of her lord, I am convinced love with him has subsided into friend- ship. The extreme delicacy of the young countess, still creates an awkward reserve in her manner to my son, and she seems to suppress her affectionate attach- ment to her lord in his presence from a fear of giving pain to her rejected admirer. This will abate in time, and the motive is so refined that even her reserve and apprehensive shyness increase our respect for her cha- racter." Lady Caddy doubtless heard this valuable informa- tion with rapture, but as she drove to her other morn- r 2 192 THE REFUSAL, ing calls, she recollected, that since the Marchioness had not desired her to contradict the rumours that were afloat it would be taking a great liberty to publish her private sentiments, and at this moment she determined to abide by the decision of that cabinet council of vir- tue and prudence assembled at the Duchess of Sting- well's, and to say nothing of such strange proceedings. It may seem extraordinary, that a woman of Lady Caddy's avowed candour and general philanthropy, and one too who was so tenderly attached to the dear little Emily, at least during the siege of Castle Mande- ville, did not voluntarily undertake what seemed a friendly action. But ladies do not always measure their own characters with such mathematical exactness, as to avoid taking credit for a large quantity of those virtues of which in fact they have not a scruple. Be- sides, though the plant of female friendship seems to grow upon every soil, its roots frequently only spread over the surface, and thus either wind or sun absolutely destroys it. Indeed, Lady Avondel had not behaved quite correctly to so susceptible and refined a person as Lady Caddy, or to use plain English, to a woman so engrossed with her own perfections, and so apt to take offence. The combined attractions of youth, modesty, gentleness, and simplicity, gave the fair countess that degree of eclat which the looms of Lyons or the mines of Golconda were in vain employed to secure to the maturer charms of the bridal widow. Emily had moreover inconsiderately refused to profit by the taste and judgment of her friend in choosing her iurniture and arranging her parties ; and, worse than all, she had been guilty of the unparalleled ingratitude of never ap- propriating a plate at the head table at her gala suppers to a person who had been so very kind to her when she was quite a raw girl. But Lady Caddy knew the world, and was not surprised at this treatment irom one whom she had noticed when she was nobody. Her dislike of Lord Avondel was publicly avowed, and as it originated from his inherent qualities, there V) as no hope of its being subdued. If it were true, as she THE REFUSAL. 193 protested, that she saw in her own husband the stand- ard of excellence, her looking with repugnance on a man who exhibited an exact contrast to her adored spouse was accounted for. His tall graceful figure, his majestic aspect, large expressive eyes, and "voice clear as a trumpet with a silver sound ;" his manners polish- ed into elegance, not ground down to foppishness or unreflecting acquiescence ; his high birth, his lofty aims, his capacious views, his superiority to mean pas- sions and criminal gratifications, his disdain of wealth and all the low advantages and selfish enjoyments it could procure ; presented so strong a dissimilitude to a little square man whose person resembled a well cram- med rouleau, and whose broad flat features were ren- dered yet mere vapid and insignificant by being dis- tended with a constant grin, that they scarcely seemed of the same species. Sir Joseph said nothing about his parentage. Fortune found him a sutler in the British camp, when, at the battle of Plassey, she rained pago- das on the lucky adventurers, who revenged the mise- ries of the suffering victims in the prison at Calcutta on the perfidious and wantonly cruel Surajah Dowla. Sir Joseph lost a brother in that scene of indescribable distress, but he always spoke of the circumstance as a good thing, because it introduced him to the considera- tion of the officers, and the plunder of a Rajah's tent, which was awarded him, made him what he called a good man. Soon after, he obtained a contract and thus became a very good man indeed, and being appointed a permanent commissioner, he was found in that situa- tion by Lord Avondel, with whom he formed an official acquaintance. As he was very punctual in performing his engagements, he acquired respect as an industrious steady character, sufficiently alert at making bargains. All other talents, excepting those which are requisite in accumulating and managing money, Sir Joseph de- spised as useless, and nourished a secret contempt for Lord Avondel, who, with fine opportunities, returned from India poorar than he went, and thus was forced 194 THE REFUSAL. to marry a wife to maintain him instead of choosing one to his fancy, like himself. Ey.en in minute particulars these gentlemen were oppotites. For as Lord Avondel had practised tem- perance till excess became distasteful rather than an indulgence, so Sir Joseph, who saw in wealth no other delight than as it ministered to animal enjoyment, led a life of misery from the diseases attending repletion, and the torment of self-denial. Thus, let selfishness embark in whatever vessel it pleases in search of hap- piness, it is sure to get entangled among rocks and quicksands. Sir Joseph cared for no public calamities while the Bank of England was safe. He felt no anx- ieties from sympathy ; for even if Lady Caddy died he could get another wife. Domestic disappointments did not trouble him ; for if his pines rotted he had money to buy some at Covent Garden. Yet, he too found, that " man was made to mourn." Agony perched upon the turtle soup, vexation hovered over the under-done venison, gout was mixed in his sauces and ragouts, and phthisic lurked in his West India sweetmeats. Thus, while Lord Avondel felt his soul wounded by some national loss or disgrace, vainly struggled against the tide of faction, or deplored the imbecility of his friends and the active malice of his enemies, Sir Joseph Caddy was grumbling that a man cannot eat what he likes without suffering pain, and devoted his time to the study of what good things were wholesome, and how nature might be assisted to throw off her accumulation of undigested humours without submitting to too severe a discipline. He, however, found a little time between his cook and his physician to join his lady in laughing at Lord Avondel, as a man whose talents were rather shewy than substan- tial, as was proved by his having spent his life to very little purpose. [ 195 ] CHAPTER XIII. O wherefore with a rash impetuous aim Seek ye those flowery joys with which the hand Of lavish fancy paints each flattering scene, Where beauty seems to dwell : nor once inquire "Where is the sanction of eternal truth, Or where the seal of umleceitful good To save your search from folly. Akenside. AMONG the nominal colleagues of Lord Avon- del's political career was the youthful Lord Norbury. His father had so distinguished himself on the opposi- tion benches as to convince the uninitiated, that if ever the good genius of England should so far prevail as to bring him into office he would make the most uncor- rupt and enlightened minister ; but adepts thought he would be an adroit active coadjutor, useful in holding out lures adapted to the characters he had to contend with, in dressing up a bad cause, and in practising that most dexterous part of state machinery, the appearing perfectly plausible and communicative and at the same time not disclosing one iota but what was publicly known. He had no other objection to putting on the court livery than the difficulty of finding a suit that would fit him ; and as soon as his measure was exactly taken he vaulted from his oratorical tribune into the treasury bench, and commenced Baron Norbury with a pension fit to support his honours. He was, howe- ver, soon found to be an incumbrance rather than an assistant, for in moving the machine of government it is necessary to draw altogether at a steady pace and with determined strength. But Lord Norbury was for curveting, prancing, or standing still, biting at one of his yoke fellows, and kicking another, gallopping off after the casual game that crossed the road, and falling 196 THE REFUSAL. down in the first slough he encountered. In fine, he was a man of wonderful invention, amazing projects, and inexhaustible resources, but destitute of decision, coolness, and arrangement. After despatching various expeditions, .and devoting the resources on which their success depended to other purposes ; after planning several improvements in legislature and finance, and introducing new corruptions into every department, Lord Norbury discovered that his health was unequal to the fatigues of public life. He therefore retired with some valuable sinecures, and devoted his time to the education of his son, who, he determined, should be a still more celebrated statesman than himself, and unite the qualities of Lycurgus, Pericles, and Demos- thenes. Though we are all ready to allow, that culture fails to produce the perfection which parents expect from its application, yet few who have been long and deep- ly occupied in instructing their own children are will- ing to acknowledge, that thev have spent their time in twisting a rope of sand. Lord Norbury saw in his son all the latent properties of a cot-summate states- man, while every discerning friend discovered pro- pensities which would be insuperable impediments to his acquiring renown. The young Tuily was found to be like his father, brilliant rather than solid, and more desirous " that the club should hail him master of the joke," than that wondering senates should hang on all his words. The world is sometimes so good- natured as to credit bills which are drawn upon its admiration by an established firm, without examining whether they are fictitious drafts or securities of real value. So much was said of the astonishing talents and premature wisdom or' Mr. Davenant, son of the great Lord Norbury, that expectation stood on tiptoe to witness the parliamentary debut of this phenome- non. His maiden speech was extremely admired as something out of the common line, classical, spirited, and profound. I admit, if you sifted the eulogist nar- rowly, they began to talk of his youth, allowed he was THE REFUSAL. J 97 not well acquainted with the powers of his own voice, that his action might be improved, and that his argu- ments, though ingenious, had been all used by the former speakers on the subject. His phraseology too was rather crowded by a too frequent return of those unlucky M Mr. Speaker, I beg pardon Sir, my own ir- resistible feeling," 8cc. which are apt to be strewn on the harangues of novices. Yet still the speech was a capital speech, that is, for a young man who was heir to a title, and new to the forms of the house. In fine, according to the newspapers, it excited very powerful sensations in all who heard it : and since smiling, wink- ing, coughing, and gaping, are natural expressions of powerful sensations, the newspapers said no more than what is truth, which is a very high commendation. Mr. Davenant took his seat at the board, where he was to learn the routine office before he realized his father's expectations, and rushed forth mighty to go- vern and to guide. But ere that period arrived, the impenetrable veil of death dropped on the eyes of Lord Norbury, and if (indulging in poetical imagina- tion) I attend his shade to the Elysian fields, where, as in a city coffee-house, the heroes of classical antiquity walk about and ask what news, I could not with correct- ness introduce the parallel of Ulysses in the shape of a a modern quidnunc telling the enraptured sire the speeches and measures of his illustrious son. From the period of his taking possession of his fortune to the time I am treating of, the world kept inquiring what Lord Norbury was about. Much had been said of his talents and patriotic principles, surely envy, intrigue, treachery, and a thousand similar hindrances must have united to confine so wonderful a young statesman behind the scenes, and to deprive his injured country of the grand specific which he had been preparing for all her disorders. But Lord Norbury was all this time very busy, stu- dying tin; baser parts of society preparatory to his go- verning the better, as Warwick described Prince Hal, to sooth the sorrows of his disappointed father. His 198 THE REFUSAL. lordship drank, intrigued, and frequented the two lead- ing gaming houses, for he was too liberal to be a party man at dice or billiards. He became a member of the Savoir vivre, and the leading demireps toasted him at their coteries as a divine feliovv. I do not mean that he studied or practised divinity, or possessed what very orthodox writers now call the divinity of talent, but di- vine was the indefinable cant word of the year, and was applied to divine dresses, divine masquerades, a divine run of good luck, and a divine eclaircissement ; I am not sure that there were not divine elopements, in which case I hope the husband had divine damages. The character of Lord Norhury in the world of gal- lantry was that of a male coquet. He kept off other offers by persuading the unmarried ladies he meant to make them an honourable proposal ; and he whispered away the reputation of wives by insinuating, that, though renowned for secresy, he was more admired by ladies and hated by husbands than any man of his age. His fair auditors blessed themselves when he talked in ' this style; called him a wicked creature, vowed they did not believe a word he said, and pu- nished him with violent blows with their fans, whis- pering each other at the same time "That he was a divine fellow after all." But though Lord Norbury was thus studying the world for his future improvement, he did not forget his present duties. He regularly attended the sittings of the board to which he belonged, that is, he came in just as the business ended, nrdded his assent to what he was told they had been doing, and while the minutes of their transactions were read pro forma, he enlivened the fiat routine of labour by some inimitable jests on two or three of the humble members, who submitted to be his buts, as in that character they had free access to hib table. Lord Norbury, like some other great men of that age, (Heaven forbid I should allude to the pre- sent) fancied that as the Roman capitol had been saved by geese, monkies might eventually prove the best guardians of the Lritish empire : he therefore always THE REFUSAL. 199 preferred a jest to a reason, and antic gestures to wise suggestions. Nothing to him was so intolerable as a dry discussion of a dry subject; and whenever he condescended to argue, he confuted his adversary with sarcasms and defended his own opinion by flights of fancy. Thus, when his natural indolence could be roused, he became extremely useful to his party ; for, in all intricate questions, I believe-, it is reckoned, that not more than one convert is gained by conviction .or twenty who have been completely pu2zled or laughed out of their opinions by an adept in the science of ca- villing, armed with the irresistible weapons of rhodo- montade and irony. Such was the situation which this phcenix held, not without a secret consciousness that he was fitted to mount higher, whenever he could be content to resign the plumes oi wit, spirit, and humour, for the civic Wreath of the plodding man of business, a character which, though much below his own, he one day intend- ed to assume. The embarrassments which Lord Nor- burv's irregular habits had introduced into this depart- ment, first suggested co the premier the necessity of recalling Lord Avondel into public life ; and it was at this board he was appointed to preside to counteract the genius of disorder in the shape of a town wit turn- ed statesman. The firmness and promptitude of the noble eari, seconded by his high reputation, produced a complete revolution. Whoever has had tne honour of sitting between two very great men of opposite charac- ters, whom he was alike desirous of propitiating, and has felt the difficulty of preserving his face in a proper equilibrium while one great man was very facetious, and the other profoundly grave, may guess the mise- ries of the humbler coadjutors of these two noblemen while the senior kept recommencing attention to busi- ness, an; 1 the junior was persuading one of the com- missioners, who mighc have sat for a frontispiece to Butler's Sir Hudibras, to get a lilac coat embroidered with roses for the birth-day. riut the influence of J\Io- niiis gradually decreased. I do not mean that Lord VOL. I. S 200 THE REFUSAL. Norbury's facetious powers were diminished, but be- sides that Lord Avondel daily seemed more hostile to jesting, he dismissed two subalterns for being negli- gent, and as his influence was known to gain ground in a quarter where worth is sure to be esteemed, the earl was suspected of being prepared to bring out a very intelligible comment on the texts which assert, " that there is a time to laugh and a time to weep, a time to keep silence and a time to speak." It seemed imprudent to irritate the testy statesman beyond the act of biting his nails or dashing his pen on the table. By the secession of laughers at his jokes, Lord Nor- bury found himself either compelled to be merry alone, which is the dullest of all undertakings, or to transport his mirth to a more eligible situation. A few month's observation convinced him, that, as the earl was not to be trifled with, the price of non-attendance or inatten- tion would be dismission, and though it was now crowd- ed with what was disagreeable, like Bobadil, he found the " cabin convenient." He was therefore compelled to put on the man of business, and at least to be pre- sent and silent while Lord Avondel exercised his great mind in arranging the minutiae of those plans which his wisdom had suggested, with the persevering atten- tion of a mechanic fixed in his loom to a daily task. Whatever road we happen to choose to conduct us to reputation, self-attachment makes us feel peculiarly susceptible of any rebuff or impediment in our passage, even though it should be the means of diverting us into a more respectable path, or one better adapted to our talents. Lord Norbiiry was designed by nature for something better than a rattle, but he cherished a strong dislike to a man who had compelled him to af- fect those sedate qualities which he was ever ready to sacrifice to the applause of the moment. Dislike soon grew into irreconcilable enmity, when he perceived that though he could rival or even excel Lord Avontkl in pointing a repartee, or relating an anecdote, he could never eclipse him in a debate, suggest wiser expedi- ents, or penetrate into the characters of men, or the THE REFUSAL. 201 designs of foreign courts, with such masterly discern- ment. Driven from the seat where he had been ac- customed to exercise sovereign power, and compelled to sit on the stool of inferiority in another's kingdom, he was left without hope of humbling the prepondera- ting greatness which had made him kick the beam. An attempt to impugn Lord Avondel's integrity and disinterestedness would but discover his own foulness, like the crawling of a slug on a tablet of alabaster: and he might as well have attempted to answer the Sphinx as to refute his rival's arguments, or render his propo- sals ridiculous. Was Avondel then invulnerable to the shafts of malice ? or, as Norbury would have put the question, could not just resentment teach him to feel the pain of being mortified, and the vexation of sub- mitting to the loss of some valued acquisition, or the consciousness of degradation ? How untainted must be that virtue in which revenge, assisted by wit and talent, could find nothing base or contemptible^ But though invincible in his own person, Avondel had a young wife, whom his public duties compelled him to trust chiefly to her own discretion ; and if Nor- bury allowed him pre-eminence on the stage of busi- ness, surely, in the field of gallantry, his youthful competitor must be the Caesar who would " come, see, and conquer." He had met the countess ; she inte- rested him just as much as any other woman of fashion, that is to say, she would serve to trifle with, and was handsome enough to justify him for pretending an at- tachment. As the wife of the haughty Earl of Avon- del she became a most desirable conquest ; but then as he could not suppose this man of loftv aims and high desires had ever submitted to the bondage of Cupid, he doubted if he would keenly feel the infidelity :md disgrace of the insignificant girl who shared his coro- net. Norbury had never been a witness of connubial happiness. He fancied Avondel, like his own father, had been content " to wive it wealthily ;" and as he supposed Emily must have been a reluctant votress at the shrine of Hymen, he thought the victory would be 202 THE REFUSAL. too easy to give eclat to the conqueror. For compare the stilt sententious solemn spouse with the airy graces, the infinite humour, the everflowing small talk, of the gallant, forty three with twenty iour, Count Osmond, Lord Constable of Sicily, with the gay Lothario, the u dear deceiver," with the best dressed beau in London, the chiet of cicisbeos, the phcenix of phaeton drivers, the pattern of every polite art and happy invention : — Pshaw ! it was too ridiculous. She would be fascinated at the first glance, vanquished by one compliment, and ready to elope before he could order a chaise and four, and bribe the Abigail. He doubted whether diaboli- cal revenge (1 use the proper phrase, Norbury called it a counterplot on Avondel) could be a sufficient stimu- lus to persuade him to undertake such a stupid intrigue. Emily's extreme modesty and gentleness gave her such a 1 a^hlul appearance in public, that he, like many others, unjustly under-rated her understanding. Every feeling of her soul was spontaneously imprinted on her ingenuous countenance, and as she oitcn felt confused, embarrassed, and vexed with herself, this very pecu- liar quality of self-condemuation was generally con- strued to imply unhappiness in her wedded lot. Of all intrigues an attempt on a discontented simpleton is the dullest, and, had she not been Countess of Avon- del, she affected so little eclat, and was so retired in her habits, that Lord Norbury would never have thought of her a second time. On further enquiry into the history of the married pair whose comforts he meant to poison, he found with amazement that Emily was fondly attached to her lord's person and an idolater of his fame. This im- plied thc»t she was one of the few women who really had what might be termed some character. He heard also she had always lived in the country, had seen verj lit- tle, and had been romantically educated. This came of course, and would make her a pleasant relief to the vapid sameness of town ladies. Hut she had rejected a higher title, a younger man, and a better fortune than Lord Avondel's. True, but Glcnvorne was a solemn THE REFUSAL. 203 fop, as dull as Avondel, and not so much talked of. The young lady had shewn she was captivated by re- putation ; what attractions had the renown of a gene- ral, an ambassador, a statesman, or a governor, for a young woman? at least when compared with the glory of chaining to her car the most invincible rover, and most formidable seducer who had appeared since beau- ty formed so strict a league with her sister chastity, that the Lovelaces and Pollexfens of the times were formed to brave the gallows ere they could establish their claim to the honour of an amour ? To the no small gratification of Lady Caddy, Lord Norbury's name was inscribed on her visiting list, and the acquaintance was a mutual convenience. For be- sides that Sir Joseph kept the best cook in London, he had no objection to the world's loan and premium, and her ladyship played very ill, and liked a high stake. On the other hand, though in what related to sound sense and sterling goodness she could place Sir Joseph on a par with Lord Avondel without making her audi- tors violate the rules of politeness further than by a smile, she could not compare them as parallels in wit and taste without urging the risible muscles of her friends beyond all power of retention. Here Lord Norbury became very useful, and he might be describ- ed as better bred, better dressed, a finer figure, a more liberal patron of the fine arts, a more entertaining com- panion ; and, in fine, her friend Lord Norbury, who took his mutton with them twice a week, and never missed her parties, was in all respects superior to Lord Avondel, who rarely left a card at her door, took little pains to disguise his dislike of her, and was just civil to Sir Joseph. On that accommodating principle which induces pub- lic characters to be on good terms with every body, Emily complied with her lord's desire, and kept up a slight acquaintance with her Devonshire duenna ; and the title of countess sounded too well through the anti-room on a gala night, especially where there was a scarcity of that commodity, to allow Lady Caddy to s2 204 THE REFUSAL. be as angry with the Avondels as she wished. It was at her house, therefore, that Lord Norbury met his in- tended prey at a morning visit. Contrary to her usual style of conversation, Lady Caddy introduced politics, and expatiated on a public measure, which she said was generally agreed to be more beneficial than any that had been brought forward for half a century. It was difficult to know what she was about, till she turned to Lord Norbury and observed, that the world would owe this blessing to his patriotism. " The world, madam," answered he, "bestows on me a degree of fame which I do not deserve, for I assure you, upon my honour, the bill you so justly commended originat- ed with Lord Avondel." Emily, who w r ith the depressed composure of exalted meekness had dropped her pensive head during this ebullition of ill-will, which she knew was pointed at her lord, suddenly felt her face glow with delight. She darted a look of inexpressible satisfaction and grati- tude at Lord Norbury. She roused from what might be termed a stupor, but what really was the lively emo- tion of sensibility, conscious of injury, yet too gentle to contend, and viewing the champion of her lord's honour with more than common approbation, she en- tered into a spirited conversation with the young lord ; who, while handing her to her carriage, observed, that the warmth of her connubial attachment at once adorn- ed and ennobled her beauty. " I detest invidious peo- ple," said she, " as much as I honour candour ;" and then in the gaiety and sincerity of her heart, kissed her hand, bowed to Norbury, and drove home to tell her lord how generously he had behaved. Lord AvondePs love of praise rendered the cup of flattery always grateful provided the ingredients were well mixed, and offered with an air of gracefulness. *' I think," said he, " I have been unjust to this young man; I fancied him vain and frivolous, and thought he regarded me with peculiar animosity." " He did you noble justice," replied Emily. " But, my dearest lord, you always leave me to hear of your THE REFUSAL. 205 renown from strangers. Why did not you tell me that your sleepless nights and thoughtful days were employ- ed in perfecting this plan ? I should not then have been terrified, sometimes with thinking I had offended you, at others with fearing you were indisposed." " I would cure you of your solicitude in this respect, Emily, by giving you opportunities of discovering its unreasonableness. Amid a hundred causes which may account for my being serious or absent, will you never allow yourself to fix on any that may neither impeach my affection for you nor wound your own feelings ? But with respect to Norbury, he has done me more than justice, for he really threw out the original idea on which I laboured till I gave it consistency and practi- cability ; he is therefore justly entitled to share the re- putation." " He concealed all this," replied the countess, " and spoke of you with such warmth of esteem that I quite fell in love with him." " 'Tis a pity he is so dissipated," resumed the earl ; " he certainly has talents and penetration, and I now hope principle. I have treated him too cavalierly, pos- sibly a little regular society might correct his morals." The next time they met at the office, Lord Avondel returned Lord Norbury's bow with a less formal air. The members were not assembled : " We punctual men," said the earl, " may derive an advantage from our early hours, since it will allow us an opportunity of cultivating more than an official acquaintance." u So," thought Norbury, " the bait has taken. Charming little soul ! I see she can move this mighty machine at pleasure, and the destined cornuto is as tractable as I could wish." He then protested he was the worst in the world at grave speeches, or he should say it was his highest ambition to possess the private as well as the political friendship of the Earl of Avondel. " We have lost too much time," said that nobleman, " to waste any more in mere formality ; you must dine with me to-day." 206 THE REFUSAL. " I have but one objection, my lord, my heart is very vulnerable, and the charms of your countess'' — " Are defended by my entire confidence, and her unswerving discretion," returned the earl with an air of gravity. " I am not such a determined coxcomb," answered Norbury, u as to attempt vanquishing such invincible guardians. My lord, I'll put a bandage on my eyes and wait upon you*" " Your lordship, I presume, has been too much ac- customed to the beams of beauty to be dazzled by its brightness. I therefore conceive the precaution you propose unnecessary, unless when it is required by the great susceptibility of the lady, or the jealous irritabi- lity of the husband." The man of intrigue was inclined to laugh at the proud confidence this speech manifested, but recollect- ing that conciliation was his cue, he answered, that waving those reasons still the bandage would be neces- sary, as it would prevent him from seeing his own in- feriority, " which," said he, " is the only inconveni- ence people can suffer in the company of the earl of Avondel." The commissioners now entering prevented further conversation. " 'Tis a pity," thought the president, as he walked to the chair, " this young man should not allow himself leisure to be consistent and persevering. Certainly he is a very agreeable companion." [ 207 ] CHAPTER XIV. I am as true as truth's simplicity, And simpler than the infancy of truth. Akenside. " AGAIN" in the penitentials, Emily," said the earl to his j'oung countess on his return to Berkley-square. " Come, relieve yourself by confession, and receive absolution." " I shall exhaust your patience by my foily," said she ; " nay 'tis not mere folly, I have been quite cul- pable." " Only in your own estimation. I shall indeed be surprized if I discover anv criminal err ;rs." " I know not by what other name to call my thought- lessness." "■Suppose we call it thinking too much, only not in the right place ?" " Well, i will admit your liberal definition. I thought so much of Lord Norbury's magnanimity to you that this morning, hearing him spoken of in a comtemptu- ous. manner, I vindicated him with all my power, and even asserted that the bill which has gained so much eclat was rather his measure than yours, though he endeavoured to give you the entire credit. I saw Lady Caustic bridle, and the Duch j ss of Stingwell said, "very candid indeed," with such a significant smile, that I knew I was wrong. The moment they were gone, my :xcellent friend Lady Glenvorne told me, that Norbury is a notorious libertine, one who boasts of his vices. O, my Led, I shall sink with contusion ; I have been vindicating a man ot infa- mous character." . "Well, Emily?" 208 TIIE REFUSAL. " To think what suspicions I have excited, I have committed myself to the most dangerous set in Lon- don." " The story is but half completed, I must furnish the catastrophe ; for, like a most accommodating good man, I have invited this dangerous gallant to dinner. Will not these dragons ol virtue forget your indiscre- tion in my imprudent negligence ?" "Surely," replied Emily, turning still paler, and trembling with horror, " you have not commenced an acquaintance with Lord Norburv ?" " Indeed, I have, but not upon your account. We meet too often to be neutrals, the question is, shall we be enemies or friends ?" " I can never feel at ease in the company of a man of his character. I know he will misconstrue all my words and looks, and I detest a vicious person too much even to assume towards him, civility." "It is painful," said Lord Avondel, "to correct such an ingenuous temper, yet, my Emily, I .must tell you, common civility is- a tribute which all who have not personally offended you may demand. Neither will an outrageous vindication of your sex's wrongs be half so mortifving to a bold r-.nd boasifai iibertine, as the calm indifference, the unimpassioned ease, of conscious virtue, too confident of its own strength to provoke hostility, and too insensible of the boastful at- tractions of a coxcomb to feed his vanity by treating him as a dangerous being. As for Lord Norbury, he dares not meditate your dishonour. Let him not sus- spect that you are so indelicate as to believe he thinks you vulnerable." Emily gratefully assured her husband that he was born to be her counsellor, her friend, and her protector. The earl answered, " I need not tell you that your reputation is dearer to me than my life. Bat though the laws of honour require our sex to be the avengers of your wrongs, I have ever thought women the best guardians of their own honour, and I have always THE REFUSALr. 209 imost admired that discretion which rather avoids diffi- culties than vanquishes presumption. " He comes too near who comes to be denied," is an invaluable adage. I have seen viragos in delicacy fall an easy prey, but I never yet knew a woman ensnared whose chastity, as well as her manners, was ' not obvious, not obtrusive, but retired.' " Lord Avondel sighed as he uttered these remarks. He recollected the incident which first led him to ob- serve those superior graces of mind and mien that had so firmly engraved the charms of Selina Delamore on his heart. He saw her at a masquerade exposed to those freedoms which the licence of the place seemed to justify, buc which her extreme beauty and unpro- tected dependent situation rendered peculiarly offen- sive. His sword was ready to start from its scabbard to avenge any insult she might endure, but with quie£ dignity she repelled insolence, and awed the most li- centious, even without the intervention of his inter- dicting frown. He" remembered, too, that never from that hour did she expose herself to be again offended by him who had so far thrown off the gentleman as to suppose a beautiful and noble child of poverty might be insulted with impunity. A formal courtesy, a cold monosyllable, or a distant smile, was all that even an acknowledgement of his fault could obtain. " In such a situation," thought Lord Avondel, "Emily's tears and terrors would have drawn me into a dispute. The business would have got wind, and the delicacy of fe- male fame always suffers by discussion. Emily would have exposed hserelf, risked her lover's life, and con- firmed the coxcomb in h.s impertinence by giving him notoriety. Selina Delamore, — but why do I talk of Selina Delamore i she has renounced me and bidden me think of the amiable affectionate creature who lives but for me." Lord Norbury was determined to mnke his debut in stvle, and accordingly appeared in Berklev-square dressed for conquest. He resolved that his person, manner, and conversation, should compel Emily to 210 THE REFUSAL. regret her precipitate and eccentric choice. He did not come attired like our present Adonises, in a jock- ey's livery, a coachman's iong coat, or /he round frock and Belcher handkerchief, of .. pugilist. Nor did he talk oi exercises which violate law and outrage hu- maniiy, or introduce the language and behaviour of the stable to the festal board oi an hereditary legit. a- tor of the British empire. Neither did he ruth u,to the room during the removal of the first course, thrust his chair between two women of fashion, give a holt bow to the lady hostess, violate the ceconon., of the table, make the cook swear and the butler per- spire, while the more civil part oi the company won- dered at his voracious appetite, and the perfect non- chalance with which he vowed he was notorious for being an hour beyond his time, and had won a wager bv never being known to see fish except at his own ta- ble. Doubtless, as a " divine fellow," Norbury would have done all this, had coarse freedom at that period been voted tonish, and guests not being required to oe well-bred and to wea* the exterior of gentlemen. Lord Norbury, therefore, had to exhibit his gra( ,1 boM s in the drawing room; he was expected to h . d Lady Avondel to her seat, to assist her in perform g the honours of hospitality, to appear delighted ■ ith the entertainment, and to be respectful to the giver and the guests. This last rule could never b< viol ited with impunity, unless when some humble retainer or starved genius, was permitted to wield his knive and fork m silence, and being overlooked by my lord and my lad)', was allowably neglected by the company. Such lorlorn beings never displayed their piteous i es at Lord Avondel's b nquets. I do not mean to say thev were interdict! d, bm when admitted beneath his truly hospitable roof, they appeared in such a style that the most accurate observer oJ high life could not discover them either b) the negligence oi the earl and countess, the insolence of the servants, or their own THE REFUSAL. 211 solicitude to pay their commons with acquiescence and flattery. Behold, then, the gay and gallant Norbury reflect- ing splendor from the rich silver embroidery on his waist-coat, and, like a blooming orange tree, diffusing fragrance with every motion of his well-powdered head ! Hear him criticise fiddlers and opera dancers, delineate the sons and daughters of Thespis, explain the initials in the scandalous magazine, and detail the particulars of the last crash at the Savoir vivre ; above all, hear him satirize Lady Overdone's city rout, and cut up Mrs. Phantom's pines at her gala supper, a privilege denied to her guests. " Wax, upon my re- putation," said he, " exhibited in a tall Epargne be- yond the reach of the king of Brobdingnag. Besides, there were some dozens of fossil peaches, an immense quantity of potted saw dust, painted entrements, and a stupendous plateau furnished from her daughter's baby-house. To complete the farce, there was a starved poet whetting our hunger by reciting an ode descriptive of a plentiful repast, and Dr. Dry bones moving our spleen by enlarging on the physical ad- vantages of abstinence over a goblet of Seltzer water. The rascal was bribed, for Phantom started from the supper table, hoped we were all sufficiently refreshed, and marched us back to the ball room shivering and exhausted like the famished family of Ugolina, or Holbein's dance of death." " O horrid," exclaimed an expectant young beautv, who had long thought Norbury a divine title. " But do tell us more about the Overdones . ? " " O, there I was crammed and stuffed to suffoca- tion. ' Do eat some more chickens and asparagus, they are the first I have seen this year. Take another piece of blanc mange, I made it myself, and I know it is good. You cannot get such cream any were as mine is ; I had it from my own dairy at Ka^kney.' * No, nor such rack punch neither,' adds the lull-form- ed India director, ' and the ingredients come from my VOL. I. T 212 THE REFUSAL. own farms too, across the great herring pond, haw, haw, haw !" " Dreadful," again ejaculated Miss Blandish. " My dear Lady Avondel, did you ever hear any thing so monstrously shocking." " I beg pardon," said Emily, turning round at this appeal, " I really have been talking with Mr. Classic. I fear I have lost something important. Would it be very unreasonable to ask Lord Norbury to repeat his remarks ?" " She tops her part," thought Lord Avondel. " That was spoken in the very spirit of Selina." By way of encouraging the crest-fallen Norbury, he ask- ed his assistance to detail what passed in the house on the third reading of his bill, immediately after the op- position made a motion of adjournment. " Don't," exclaimed Lord Norbury, '* impose two Herculean labours upon me at once. The ladies have just required me to repeat all I have said to entertain them while I fancied they did me the honour of at- tending to me." " We have been more just to your merits at this end of the table, my lord," said Avondel, " forneither of us has w T anted one of Gulliver's flappers while your lordship's legislative talents were discussed." " O, you wicked man," said Miss Blandish ; " I declare, Lord Avondel, you quite deserve scolding; you have deserted us, and now you want to nif.ke Nor- bury as wise and as formidable as yourself. I do so hate politics." " Be merciful, dear Miss Blandish, I merely wished to display all Lord Norbury's excellencies, that you might not suppose he had taken refuge among you be- cause he was banished from us. You now see he has it in his power to make an honourable retreat to those who will always think him worthy their attention." " I mean," said Norbury, " to apply to you, Lord Avondel, for as you reign alike in politics and wit you can tell me which is the pleasantest soil to live in." THE REFUSAL. 213 A glowing smile lighted up the countenance of Emi- ly, while, lifting the glass to her rosy lips, she bowed to Lord Norbury, and with bewitching sweetness wish- ed he might be happy and honoured in both. " So," thought the gay Lothario of the day, " what with the husband's politeness, and the wife's impene- trability, I shall be metamorphosed into a good quiet creature, and I presume shall be invited to stand god- father, be admitted to enliven a conjugal tete-a-tete, as a safe witness of my lord's hypochondriacs, or my la- dy's head-aches ! Pretty piece of apathy ! Can nothing light up thy frigid features but the unction of flattery poured on the head of thine own good man? Pie, wor- thy soul, finds the balsamic oil supple his stiff joints most delightfully. Every man has his price, and, thank my stars, Avondel, I have discovered yours." The next time Lord Norbury saw the countess was at the theatre. He opened the box-door, and asked if she would admit him to join her party ? " Certainly," said Emily, rising with grave civility: " Lady Glen- vorne, will you have the goodness to admit Lord Nor- bury between us ?" " The princess of decorum and her duenna," said Norbury to himself, as he stepped over the benches. " I must stand a little ridicule for this. Hah ! Jack Outline, with his crayons, in the pit ! Success to thy labours, high-priest of slander ; my visage and the fair countess's caricatured, but sufficiently like to throw a jest on the originals is all the triumph I desire, to pu- nish the presumptuous security of Avondel." " Peace to this blessed retreat," said Norburv to Emily, " how inestimable are the charms of mild re- serve, and complacent delicacy. I have been hunted round the house by various bevies of loud talkers and invincible gigglers. Your ladyship can scarcely sup- pose the misery and persecution from which I have fled." The countess quietly answered, ;t Indeed ! we have been very happy." 214 THE REFUSAL. " And Avondel not here ! Surely it rarely happens that you are very happy in his absence !" " My Lord," returned Emily, who always had somewhat of grandeur in her look and manner when she spoke of her husband, " expected your assistance this evening in the debate. His whole heart is in the measure which is coming on, and he fears he shall need the support of all his friends." " Numbers, madam, will flock to his standard ; but I have determined to shew my friendship for the noble Avondel by protecting that attractive loveliness, which the severe impositions of public duties compel him to hazard abroad without a guardian." " I must not," returned Emily, " allow myself to be considered as an impediment to my lord's important designs. We are in no want of a protector, are we Lady Gienvorne ?" " I cannot," replied Norbury, " submit this ques- tion to a female judge, however respectable. My lady marchioness cannot have penetrated into the secrets of libertinism, nor can she judge what nefarious designs t! e unprincipled will entertain, to which, unhappily, the licence oi the age gives an alarming sanction." " Come, Lord Norbury," returned Lady Gien- vorne, " we must not allow you to turn king's evi- dence, or if you will criminate your fraternity, we must take you before a magistrate, and have your de- position made out in form, and published for the be- nefit of all tender-hearted fair ones. You will unsay all you confess to us without this precaution." The voung nobleman, who fancied he had adopted the precise expressions which would have won the good opinion of such strict ladies, felt so repulsed by this sarcasm, that he could only suppress an imprecation against old women, and assure Lady Gienvorne that the world had formed a most erroneous judgment of his real character. " The play was " the School for Scandal," then re- cent from the pen of genius, and possessing the advan- tage of having its poignant humour and forcible deli- THE REFUSAL. 2I5 neation of character elucidated by a constellation of dramatic talent, happily adapted to its respective parts. As in those days mere bustle and practical jokes were not admitted as substitutes for incident and wit, actors were not influenced by the perverted ambition of sa- crificing nature and their author to stage trick and grimace. Emily, herself a child of nature, entered into the representation with such fixed attention, that she almost forgot she was sitting in public with one of the most dissipated men of the age at her elbow ; and Norbury was forced, in his own language, to do pen- ance, by poring over the volume of antiquitv to avoid the mortification of addressing his conversation to the flaxen locks which fell redundantly over the shoulders of the countess, while her averted face was turned to the stage. Piqued by her disregard, he at length ask- ed her. if the gW~ ~' Q;. Eeter had so rivetted her attention i " Surely," said she, with an ingenuous air, " there is much respectability in his character." " And yet," returned Norbury, in a soft despond- ing accent, " when we contemplate the youth, the beauty, and the sprightly ease, of his blooming con- sort, must we not say, what a sacrifice ?" " I admit," said Lady Glenvorne, " youth is the quality which men most admire in our sex, and in compliment to your taste we are successively content to slide into the character of the time past at an early period, and to lie upon the shelf like a last year's Ephemeris ; but do not so much undervalue your own superior sex as to suppose your durable virtues fade like our roses. The oak, you know, is perfected by centuries, but a few years destroys the beauty of the woodbine which twines around it." U Your ladyship," answered Norbury, " deserves to be panegyrized by every club of odd fellows in the kingdom ; but for us unhappy Ganymedes, whom you deprive of what we thought our exclusive right, the young and the fair, on the principle of congeniality, we have only to wait till time has proved our virtues t 2 216 THE REFUSAL. to be durable, or else make an excursion to Bath in despair, and select from its virgin coteries one of the last aspiring Ursulas for our future partner." " Are the times become so rigid," inquired the mar- chioness, " that you men of wit and gallantry can find no expedient but becoming despairing bachelors, or husbands of old maids ? What, does your lordship think of commencing cicisbeo, on the Italian plan, and persuading young wives that there is nothing obligato- ry in a vow given to an odd fellow ?" " I should think," said Lord Norbury, " that it was the most hopeless of all undertakings ;" his eyes met Emily at that instant, and with the airy confidence of a fashionable effrontery, he asked her to correct him if he was mistaken. The countess declared herself so much engrossed \ta >->lr»t. ^i--- — — * nwt iiit tuiiU or> wliirH her gment was required. . " It is connected with the plot," said his lordship; Lady G envorne inquires, whether the denouement would not have been different had the author given Lady Teazle a spirited, engaging lover, instead of that sentimental drone ?" " No," said Emily, « for the plot does not turn upon the character of Joseph Surface, but on Lady leazles, whom he describes as credulous, volatile, and dissipated, but not positively infamous. I grant her situation is very critical. She is not onlv voun Rt beautiful, and exposed to adulation, but she seems virtuous rather from habit than reflection ; and, till towards the conlusion of the play, she wants that in- vincible support, affection for her husband, founded on ajust estimation of his worth. You smile, Lady Glenvorne, but indeed this defence is invulnerable.— A thousand admirers, with differ. Ht attractions and pretensions, would not seduce an whose hearf with due forethought and ard , accompanies her man i: ge v< . s. ? " l larchioaess, " it was pour sentiments. Pra THE REFUSAL. 217" u But may not this rich treasure of love be wasted by an unthrifty possessor ?" inquired Norbury. — " Suppose the husband turns morose, suspicious, un- kind, alters his behaviour, renounces his good quali- ties — is the lover's case then so desperate, or is the lady very culpable if she seeks consolation in a sym- pathising friend ?" " This case," said Emily, " is very hypothetical An entire change of character, a dereliction of prin- ciple) a renunciation of habitual virtues, are surely very rare. As for venial errors, or transient wayward- ness, true affection will either not perceive such faults, or they will seem as spots in the sun. Or, perhaps, love may exert its magic, and convert defects into excellencies. At all events, a fond and faithful wife will never ask for pity at her husband's expense, nor solicit advice which may make him wretched and con- temptible. I grant Lady Teazle does this, but though not abandoned, she is very far from correct. Hers was a match of convenience ; the unweighed engage- ment of a flippant girl, tired of restraint, and panting for expensive pleasures. In this point of view, her visit to Joseph Surface, and her complaints of ill usage, argue no greater guilt than petulence and indis- cretion ; and I admire the moral art of the poet in reclaiming her, by making her an undesigned witness of her hus'> .nd ; s generous affection and integrity.— Honour and gratitude are thus made active principles, instead of love ; and indeed, Lord Norbury, I should look with horror on a lady Teazle in real life, who, after she had thus been roused to a sense of duty, aftervvards listened to the blandishments of a lover, though every possible attraction were combined in his character. Lord Norbury was silent. The malicious marchi- oness i-xpr^ssecl her fear that he was quite weary of such a moral performance. He started, endeavoured to recollect himself, srowed he had never passed two hours more peasantry ; that he was edified and im- proved, and had learnt more than from ten volumes of 218 THE REFUSAL. divinity. He then intreated Lady Avondel to allow him to escort her to Berkley-square, that he might enjoy the protracted advantage of her verv just cri- tique. Without waiting for her reply, Lady Glen- vorne answered, that the countess was engaged to be her guest that evening. " Had I power to command you," said Emily, " I would conjure you to hasten and support my lord. — He has been of late entirely engrossed with business, and was extremely fatigued when he went to the house, expecting a long debate. You may assist him, at least you will be in time for the division." " What reward am I to expect from obedience ?" inquired the young lord, as he conducted the ladies to th'eir carriage. The marchioness bowed with ironical gravity, and answered, " a second dissertion on Lady Teazle." " Malicious crone," muttered Norbury, as he drew back among the link-boys ; " 'tis misery enough to be the fool of ■ a young woman, but to be the jest of an old one is worse than the tortures of Mezentius." The lively marchioness now told her young friend, that she presumed their adventure that evening had given pain to many hearts ; and on Emily's inquiring for what reason, she protested she would punish her indifference by claiming the conquest of the dear Ado- nis herself. " Are you unconscious," said she, " that you fixed the gay and fascinating Norbury the whole evening?" " 'Twas accident," returned the countess, " or, perhaps, respect to my Lord. His presumption never could be so blind as to suppose, even if I were the basest of women, that he could ever rival the Earl of Avondel. O heavens, what a falling off would there be, setting honour and conscience aside. This man of wit is very frivolous, dear Lady Glen* vorne. He and my lord are beings of a very different order." " Most undoubtedly they are ; yet, for one woman who has sufficient elevation of mind to value the sted- THE REFUSAL. 219 fast regard of a man of sense and honour, hundreds sigh for the whisper of a coxcomb, who conceives he distinguishes them by a momentary attention ; and this induces me to repeat my observation, that you will excite much envious observation by your flirtation this evening." " Flirtation ! Lady Glenvorne, you alarm me. Yet, now I recollect, I was too familiar. I rested my fan on his shoulder in the heat of my argument ; I talked also much too freely. He had the audacity to press my hand as he led me out. The known licence of his character will take advantage of my inconsidera- tion."