I van aiBRAHY OF THE U N I VLRSITY OF 1 LLI NOIS 823 v.l cop. 2. ISABELLA. A NOVEL. BY THE AUTHOR OF "RHODA," &c. 44 Take if you can, ye careless and supine, Counsel and caution from a voice like mine. Truths that the theorist could never reach, And observation taught me, 1 teach." C'OWPER. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. i LONDON: PRINTED FOR HENRY COLBURN AND CO. 1823. LONDON MINTED BY J. NICHOLS AND s-ON, PARLIAMENT-STREET. ?Z3 •-■< z> ISABELLA. CHAP. I. " Oh ! these deliberate fools !" Shakespeare. " Example draws where Precept fails ; And Sermons are less read then Tales.' ' It is advisable, therefore, that Tales should supply the place of Sermons ; but it is not therefore necessary that they should resemble them. These little Volumes do not, then, contain an illustration of myste- VOL. I. b 2 ISABELLA. ries, which, if they could be illus- trated, would be no longer myste- ries. Nor do they pretend to argue the plea of Faith versus Works — nor Works versus Faith. No! we leave such high and inscrutable mat- ters to those who prefer the means to the end. We deal in simple facts ; and present you with the veritable, and, as we trust, the delightful HISTORY OF ISABELLA HASTINGS. Isabella was the eldest daughter of Lady Jane Hastings, a widow, whose purposed web of life had been broken to pieces by the unexpected accident of her husband dying before his father. By this untimely, and, as Lady Jane always called it, unnatural event, the title and fortunes which had deter- mined her choice in a companion for ISABELLA. 3 life, had eluded her hopes, and had rested with a younger brother of her husband's. The several sons which had blessed the first period of the marriage had all died in their infancy; and several years having elapsed be- tween the death of the last, and the quick succession in which she had presented Mr. Hastings with the three daughters who survived him, Lady Jane found herself, on his death, in the wane of life, without having made one ascending step from the rank in which she was born, with a limited income, and three girls, who, if they were to be countesses, baronnesses, or even splendidly - established commoners, could only hope to be so by the fa- vours bestowed upon them by Nature, or from the reputation imposed upon them by education. In the minute features of the loveliest babe ever born, it is beyond the skill of the b 2 4 ISABELLA. most practised eye to ascertain whe- ther the expanding form will be that of ugliness or beauty. Lady Jane was resolved to leave nothing to chance ; she determined to inflict on the power- less victims every accomplishment that could adorn beauty, if such should be their happy lot, or which would most effectually countervail the want of it, were she destined to be the unfortu- nate creature who was to bring out to observation a train of Misses whom no one would wish to look upon. From these motives Isabella had received w T hat Lady Jane called, " the best of all possible educations." Not, indeed, in one particular, resembling those of the present day ; where au- thority seems to have changed hands, and the child rules the parent. " Sic volo" was Lady Jane's motto : and, as her maternal feelings were not of a nature to lead her to sacrifice the fu- ISABELLA. 5 ture well-being of her offspring to the indulgence of the present moment, she was not deterred by any harshness in the process from pursuing the end which she had in view. But who shall arraign the motives of parental fond- ness ? She could only design the good of her children ; and her indefatiga- ble labourings to promote this good were so evident to all, that the least candid of her acquaintance could not but allow that the Misses Hastings were contracting a debt of obligation to their mother, that the most implicit obedience in their disposal in life, and their most devoted affection through the course of it, would but inade- quately discharge. Does any one ask upon what foun- dation so extensive a claim was rested? the answer is easy. No one could ac- cumulate a greater variety of dancing and drawing, of singing and language C ISABELLA. masters for their daughters than Lady Jane Hastings had done ; no one could have poured into their tender minds a greater portion of premature know- ledge, and no slave-master could more rigorously have enacted the fulfilment of every successive task than had Lady Jane. Nor let it be supposed that the mo- ral of education had escaped the acuteness of her intellect. She well knew, when properly modified, how it might tend to enhance the merit of the more essential parts of her system ; the additional brilliancy which the set- ting might give to the stone. Her moral was not indeed conveyed in the antiquated phraseology of the aposto- lic age, but she had many, if not un- answerable, reasons to prove, that it meant the same thing. If she dropped the motive u for letting their light to shine before men," she enforced the ISABELLA* 7 duty. No one could instil into the tender minds of the pupils a higher respect for the u world's good opi- nion," nor a greater dread of its cen- sure ; nor could more eruditely instruct them in all the mysteries of a " digni- fied pride," nor better inforce the sa- credness of the duties that we owe " to ourselves." If in the spirited acting up to the full sense of such in- structions the confines of another's pride were trespassed upon, or the du- ties that we owe " to others" were for- gotten, the fault was not Lady Jane's. Inconveniences must happen to indi- viduals, but each ought to take care of themselves. So she had been in- structed ; by the rule which she now gave she had acted ; and she imagined that she could plead her own success as a proof of the solidity of its founda- tion. As the master architect, Lady Jane « ISABELLA. attended herself to the great outlines of her daughters' education ; the mi- nor parts she left to be filled by the assistant governess. Her own time being fully occupied by seeing that the expensive attendance of the various accomplishment masters was not thrown away, or that the person dur- ing their absence lost not the ply which it had been the result of so much trouble to give it, she committed to Mrs. Obrien all the cares of religious instruction. Having made it an in- dispensable part of her recommenda- tion that she should be " a member of the Established Church," she mo- destly said, that she considered her as a person better fitted than herself to ISABELLA. Lady Charlotte's consciousness that they did not exist, or for the purpose of keeping the object of them in good humour, as a froward child is bribed to behave well in company. In all their driving or riding parties Lady Charlotte laid claim to Mr. Wil- loughby, while she would consign Isa- bella to Mr. Dunston, with " do, dear Isabella, accompany Mr. Dunston, you are such a favourite with him !" — but Isabella would not be so consigned ; and there were others who would have disputed the consignment, had she been willing to have submitted to it. There was the young and mirthful Burghley, — the companion of her childhood, the nephew and heir to her never-failing friend Lord Burffhlev ; — there was Sir Charles Seymour, the well-bred, the fashionable Sir Charles Seymour ; whose civilities, always well- placed, were never obtrusive ; who ISABELLA. 55 outraged no decorum, affected no su- periority, was at the disposal of every body, and passed for the best-tempered and most obliging person in the world. With such aids-de-camp Isabella found no difficulty in eluding the awk- ward attempts of Mr. Dunston to esta- blish himself as her professed attend- ant. She had always to plead a prior engagement to Sir Charles Seymour ; or some wild trick of the boyish Burghley threw him so intirely out of his play, that, as he sometimes ob- served, with mingled resentment and surprise, " Mrs. Willoughby had ne- ver, no not once, tried his curricle, though he might say, without a boast, that it was the first curricle going, and so said his friend the Duke ; and Lord L. ■ absolutely could not conjecture how he could get such a one : nobody else had any thing like it;' — and no doubt that was the simple truth ; for 56 ISABELLA. i> nobody but himself knew how to give proper directions about such things ; few people indeed would or could go to the expence necessary to have such a complete thing; — if Mrs. Willoughby would but once try it, she would soon see the difference ; for, certainly, though every thing that Mr. Wil- loughby had was elegant, fashionable, and dashing enough, the ease of the thing was what he did not understand, indeed he might repeat it, that nobody did but himself." " Happy Lady Charlotte !" cried Burghley, in a tone which made Lady Charlotte frown, and every body else laugh. But although Ladv Charlotte had the mortification to see that Mr. Dun- stan was more truly appreciated by her simple cousin than she had hoped might have been the case, and that, still worse, this cousin was also more ISABELLA. 57 highly estimated by others than her invidious praises, and the air of pro- tecting superiority which she assumed towards her, were likely to have al- lowed, yet she was sufficiently suc- cessful in drawing almost the whole of Mr. Willoughby's attention to her- self. The field was, indeed, entirely open to her. Isabella was, by all the laws of fashion and hospitality, quite out of the question ; and her sisters were the sisters of Mr. Willoughby also ; so that, farther than, " Pray, Burghley, take care of Isabella," — " George, you must be Harriet's beau," it could not be expected that his gallantry would extend in that di- rection. And thus, as Lady Charlotte was left the undisputed property of Mr. Willoughby in every morning ex- cursion, so she became the paramount object of his care, that the evenings should pass in the way most agreeable d 5 58 ISABELLA. to her. A word from her decided be- tween music, dancing, or cards. The latter she usually left to those whom she designated as invalids ; amongst which number her husband was inva- riably one. " Heaven knows," would she say, " he has no music in his soul." 46 His knowledge in that delicious science was not one of the good parts for which she suffered love for him." " It was a treat to her to sing and play to one who could understand her." She seized therefore generally on the instrument, and calling Mr. Wil- loughby to her side, sometimes em- ploying him in turning over the leaves of the music-book, and sometimes in- ducing him to join his voice to hers, she would keep possession of him for hours. In vain would Mr. Burghlev declare that Isabella could sing the song better, or Sir Charles Seymour gently inquire, if there were not an- ISABELLA. 59 other instrument ? Lady Charlotte was equally deaf to both. " Let us go on/' would she say to Mr. Willough- by ; and she would say it with so ex- pressive a tone, and a look of so much favour, that it was not in man to say no. Isabella was too modest even to wish to enter the lists with her ; and Lady Jane, who was rather an ambi- tious than a vain mother, more proud of her own management than pleased with her daughter's acquirements, was careless whether or no Isabella spread her nets, now the fish was caught ; and as for her other two daughters, there was no one of the present party whom she could either wish or hope that they would attract. Mr. Burghley she thought too young, and too dependant ; Sir Charles was too wary ; and cousin George Stanton was poor, and a gamester. GO ISABELLA. Nor was there any thing more hopeful in the fleeting guests, who came and went, tarrying but a day. Lady Jane, therefore, let every thing go on with- out any interruption from her, pro- vided only that she had her rubber at whist. This Isabella always took care to arrange as much to her satis- faction as she possibly could. George Stanton would rather play a half- crown game than none at all, espe- cially as he was- sure to find a ready acquiescence from Mr. Willoughby to any bet he could propose ; and Mr. Dunstan, who played whist well, and who was not unversed in any of the accumulating advantages of small gains, was always to be had ; but Mr. Burghley and Sir Charles Seymour were equally immovable whenever she talked to them of the card table, ex- cept she would make one of the party. To this nothing but the necessity of ISABELLA. 61 securing Lady Jane her favourite amusement ever induced her to do ; for though she could sacrifice her own pleasure to that of her mother, yet she had in fact but one point of attraction in the whole circle by which she was surrounded. Of Mr. Willoughby's various ways of pleasing, all were equally new to Isabella. Before marriage she had seen him handsome, gay, acquiescent ; she had known him since as a pas- sionate and doating lover; and perhaps in this, the nonage of her reason, she might have been best pleased had she never advanced one step farther in her knowledge ; — but there is nothing stationary under the moon. Mr. Wil- loughby must be something more or less than a lover. Isabella must know him in all the various lights that soci- ety throws upon the character. She must see him abide the touch-stone of 62 ISABELLA. moral feeling, — she must hear him re- cognize the obligations of a responsi- ble being, before she could judge whe- ther or no " her lot was cast in a fair ground," whether, indeed, she had " a goodly heritage." Of all this, at pre- sent, she knew nothing ; but she hourly gained some light on subjects so interesting; the social qualities were now under her observation ; and Isa- bella proudly compared her destiny with that of Lady Charlotte's. Could there, indeed, be a greater contrast than between the gay, good- humoured, and accommodating AVil- loughby, and the solemn, morose, and immovable Dunston ? — between the intelligent good-breeding of the for- mer, and the pedantic civility of the latter? between him who estimated himself by his personal qualities alone, and him who valued himself only on the weight of his purse? — in a word. ISABELLA. 63 between the gentleman by birth and education, and an upstart who held his place in society by the money he spent there ? It was not, however, necessary that Mr. Willoughby should have had so deep a relief to have brought all his engaging qualities to bear full on the mind of Isabella. Without comparing him with any other, her eye followed him with delight through all the va- rious exercises of the day; — she could have wished herself the object of every civility, or act of good-will, that he showed to each of his guests ; and in the evenings she sat intently listening for the sounds of his voice as they sometimes mingled with Lady Char- lotte's, or made audible some gay re- mark, or acute observation ; but no- thing of jealousy or mistrust made a part of her feelings. To her he was never wanting in a kind word or look, 64 ISABELLA. a gentle pressure of the hand as he passed her, or a fond caress when no eye was upon them. All the time that he gave to Lady Charlotte Isabella knew to be no more than it is custo- mary for the master of the mansion to dedicate to the female guest of the most distinction, yet she could not but wish that all this would come to an end, that the festivities of the joyous Christmas should cease, that they should repair to town, — where, as she knew, they might live much more to themselves if they wished it, so she had not a doubt but that Mr. Wil- loughby did wish it, as earnestly as she did herself. CHAP. VI. " Oh! how the spring of love resembleth well Th' uncertain glory of an April day, Which now shews all the glory of the Sun, And by and by, a cloud takes all away." Shakspeare. At last the desired moment arrived. The party at Beechwood broke up, and Isabella took possession for the first time of her town house : that house which had made so prominent a feature in the enumerated advan- tages of her projected marriage. Two months before, it is possible that she would not have thought its conse- 66 ISABELLA. quence overrated ; but the novelty of having servants and carriages at her command, of being surrounded by costly mirrors and silken draperies, all her own property, as had been so often emphatically insisted upon, was al- ready worn off; her eye was satiated with them, and her ear weary of hear- ing of their omnipotency. Her heart had spoken, and it required as the sine qua non of her happiness, that she should be the first, the declared, the undisputed object of her husband's affections. We are again alone, thought she. Again we shall be every thing to each other. But the days of Hertfordshire re- turned no more ! Mr. Willoiiffhbv had morning occu- pations and evening engagements, in which Isabella had no share. There was certainly nothing extraordinary in ISABELLA. 67 this, and they were also not unfre- quently together ; but they were also often apart, and apart when it ap- peared to Isabella that it only de- pended upon Mr. Willoughby's wish that they might have been together. But Isabella would not allow herself to believe that there was any thing wrong in a creature who was to her so charming : she was rather inclined to doubt the force of her own attractions. She was unused to flattery, and the rigid manner in which all that she had been taught had been invariably judged, made her more alive to her own imperfections than to the points in which she really excelled others. How little, she thought, could she hope to be sufficient in companionship to such a man as Mr. Willoughby ! She half envied the volubility of Lady Charlotte. He was all kindness ! all goodness! and if more variety was 68 ISABELLA necessary to him than to her, it pro- ceeded only from the superiority of his acquirements, his more extended occupations, the larger number of hu- man beings to whom he could give pleasure, or from whom he could re- ceive it, and the ever-recurring oppor- tunities of such communication. But if she had less of his company than during the first weeks of their resi- dence in Hertfordshire, if she had not so much of it as even in London she thought might have fallen to her share, other proofs of his love seemed to arise, to supply the place of those which she, perhaps, too sensibly re- gretted. Her entrance into the fairy palace of which she was henceforth to be the deity, had been hailed by the most gay and splendid festivities, professed- ly given to celebrate the event of her nuptials. Nor was the feast that was ISABELLA. 69 spread beforeher the feast of Tantalus. Her kind, her fashionable husband, had said, "pluck, and eat;" and in the unbounded indulgence, and the exuberance of pleasure, that Mr. Wil- loughby pressed upon Isabella, she still persuaded herself that she recog- nised the fervor of that passion which it so much flattered her heart and her vanity to believe that she had excited. She felt, however, something of dis- appointment, when she observed that she was more unrestrained, than fos- tered — more allowed to please her- self, than the object of pleasure to her husband ; and that, provided he met her u well-dressed" and " good-hu- moured," amidst a score of " his friends," at his own, or some other festive board, he seemed little to con- cern himself how she disposed of her- self in the interim. She could not now wholly solve this mystery by any 70 ISABELLA. doubt of her own powers of charming. She was now come forth into open day, and she had hourly proofs that the more she was seen the more highly was she appreciated. There were countenances that brightened with delight whenever she appeared ; there were those who hung with rapture on every word that she uttered. She made dangerous comparisons : she might have felt dangerous regrets, had she not fortunately entertained in re- ality that passion for her husband, that she so mistakenly imagined that he must feel for her. It was this sacred feeling which, like the charmed gift of some benignant fairy, bore Isabella safe through the dangers by which she was surrounded : for as yet Isa- bella had no principles. Between the worldly maxims of Lady Jane, and the "grand sentiments" of la Gover- nante, Isabella felt herself perpetually ISABELLA. 71 impelled different ways. Her morality was a " chateau en Espagne," — beau- tiful in its parts, but destitute of the proportions of virtue, or the stability of truth. Without one evil propensity, with a vague notion that nothing was lovely but what was right, her good name below, and her eternal happi- ness above, were at the mercy of the accidents of the day, — of the forbear- ance of others, rather than secured by any guardianship of her own. The perils of her situation seemed to increase hourly. Isabella could no longer conceal from herself that she was the last object on whom the attentions of Mr. Willoughby were bestowed ; that her approval or admiration was the approval or admiration that he was the least solicitous to secure. It was no longer to her that the eye of Mr. Willoughby was directed in the hope of being understood; it was not to her 72 ISABELLA. that the half-word which implies mu- tual understanding was addressed; the smile of intelligence had ceased to pass between them ; nor did it seem that either her gaiety or her gravity re- tained any influence over the feelings of Mr. Willoughby. Could this grow- ing indifference proceed from satiety, or preference to another? Each al- ternative was nearly equally painfid ; and the state of mind which the con- tinual debating this anxious point pro- duced in Isabella, was peculiarly fatal to her interests ; it robbed her of her gaiety, and induced such a mistrust of her power to please as gave a timidity and reserve in her intercourse with her husband, which led Mr. Willough- by to the falsest conclusions as to the extent of her understanding, and the feelings of her heart. Although a wife she scarcely dared to express an opi- nion; and she ventured not to obtrude ISABELLA. 73 her love. The change was strange and direful ; and Isabella drooped un- der it until she seemed almost to realize the imputation of coldness and apathy which Lady Charlotte industriously laboured to affix to her character. vol. 1. CHAP. VII. " Then she plots, then she ruminates, then she de- vises; and what they think in their heart they may effect, they will break their heart but they will effect." Shakspeare. It was now that the bold game of that daring and unprincipled woman began to display itself. All of either fear or hatred that the rivalry of their childhood and youth had engendered in the breast of Lady Charlotte, was mild to what she had felt when at the moment that she believed she had secured to herself the hand of Mr. ISABELLA. 75 Willoughby, she saw it wrested from her by the machinations of Lady Jane Hastings, and given to the person in the world over whom she most desired to triumph. His distinction had not only excited her ambition, and flat- tered her vanity, but it had engaged her fancy; and had she had a heart to have been touched, it might probably have reached even that. She almost persuaded herself that this had really been the case ; and willingly mistook the rage of disappointed pride for the mortification of slighted love. What vengeance could be too great for of- fences so atrocious ? According to her own statement of the case, she had a heavy account, indeed, to adjust with Mr. Willoughby, and she promised herself most solemnly that he should not escape from her toils till he had paid the uttermost farthing ; — but it was not with Mr. Willoughby alone e 2 76 ISABELLA. that she had to reckon. If he had to account to her, she had to account to the world. She had given the pledge of superior charms, and superior pre- tensions, not very modestly veiled, that she " would not be one of the common herd of young ladies, who flutter and glitter for a few seasons, and are heard of no more." — To continue Lady Char- lotte another winter would be annihila- tion! — to behold Isabella established before her would be distraction! and vet she was conscious that a few more passing months, and these double hor- rors of her fate would be realized. At this agonizing moment Mr. Dunstan appeared like a guardian angel. Lady Charlotte paused not an instant. As- sured of the reality and extent of his wealth, and confident of her own power to make it take whatever form would please her most, she thought not of his birth, his manners, or his ISABELLA. 77 mind. To prove to the world that she had not looked up to Mr. Willoughby with a hope that had been disap- pointed, and to precede Isabella in the matrimonial career, engrossed all the powers of her understanding, and con- troled every feeling of her soul. Motives so interwoven with all that she felt, made the distinctions of life, — could even suspend her natural character, — could make the fiery Lady Charlotte mild, — the disdainful daughter of an Earl smile upon the son of a manufac- turer! On this occasion Mr. Dunstan could smile too ; for he was not only ena- moured of the beauty of Lady Char- lotte, but he also was going to gratify the ruling passion of his soul, if a soul he had — he was going to be allied to nobility ! — It was not therefore to be wondered at, if, with such incitements on each side, that Mr. Dunstan and Lady Charlotte pressed forward with 78 ISABELLA. such eagerness to the goal of matri- mony, as to distance the more methodi- cal and philosophical pace of Mr. Wil- loughby, who was only " going to be married." Lady Charlotte was a bride three whole months before Isabella became so, and so ably did she know how to turn the tables on Mr. Willoughby, that her friends boldly asserted, that it was her refusal of his hand that had given it to Isabella. Isabella also had her partisans, and her flatterers. The fact was as stoutly denied on the one side, as asserted on the other. The advantage of the vic- tory was not sufficient without the glory of it ; and that botli belonged to Isabella, the matrimonial destiny of Lady Charlotte was appealed to as an undeniable proof. It could not be the result of choice ; — " what judgment could step from this to that T — " it was a dernier resort" — ISABELLA. 79 a "pis alter" — a fiat acknowledgment that Lady Charlotte had been rejected, and Isabella taken. Lady Charlotte was not so destitute of friends as to be left in ignorance that such unplea- sant truths were abroad. She tossed her lofty head on high, and affected to despise them, but they shed fresh ve- nom upon the already rankling wounds of mortified vanity ; and while she felt herself compelled to rebut such de- grading insinuations, by putting a strong rein on the contempt and dislike that she felt for Mr. Dunstan, her ha- tred to Isabella, and her desire of vengeance upon Mr.Willoughby, were multiplied tenfold. To shew him how ill he had chosen, and to sting him to the heart, became the master move- ment of her soul, and provided that he was miserable, and Isabella de- graded, she cared not at what price or evil to herself. 80 ISABELLA. Living in the same society, and as- sociating with the familiarity of rela- tions, there was scarcely a day in which Lady Charlotte had not the means to mortify Isabella, or to spread her al- lurements before Mr. Willoughby. Isabella felt that she was held down in her presence ; yet all was done with so much apparent carelessness and free- dom from design, that she knew not of what to complain — all seemed to pro- ceed from her rival's superiority in the art of charming — and this superiority seemed to be hourly establishing itself more firmly in the only place where it would have given Isabella much pain to have allowed it. This was, however, a new feeling. Isabella had hitherto felt herself strong in the preference that had been given to her over Lady Charlotte by Mr. Willoughby, and it was not likely that she would, in the present circumstances, yield to her ISABELLA. 81 whatever she might have done to ano- ther, without a struggle. ! Something beyond the general satis- faction that her self-love had experi- enced on being chosen by so distinguish- ed a person as Mr.Willoughby, had been felt by Isabella, from believing that she had been deliberately and particularly preferred to Lady Charlotte — her flat- terers had not left her ignorant of the fact, and the triumph had been boasted of by others, until poor Isabella had been too much a partaker of it. On this weak side, her boasted education had not only left her vulnerable, but had even been calculated to lay low all those defences that the natural recti- tude of her mind might have furnished her with. To excel Lady Charlotte was a precept : — to take pleasure in seeing her humbled was a natural con- sequence which had not been guarded against. e 5 82 ISABELLA. She knew that she had always ex- celled her in all their youthful compe- titions, and she considered her own su- periority as no longer to be disputed, when, in the question who was most worthy to charm a man of taste and refinement, Mr. Willoughby had de- cided in her favour. — Of all her ac- quaintance Lady Charlotte was perhaps the last of whom Isabella could have been persuaded that she should have become jealous. How acute was then the pang that wrung her heart, when from wonder- ing, doubting, fearing — she could no longer withstand the conviction, that although the conversation of other fe- males might be preferred to her own, that of Lady Charlotte was preferred to all the rest ? The vanity, the pride, the ambition, and the selfishness, that the mode of education to which Isabella had been ISABELLA. 83 subjected is so peculiarly fitted to en- gender, were on this conviction called into action in a moment j — and as quickly did the injunction, which she had so often received, " not to be want- ing to herself'' occur to her recollec- tion. " What is this potent charm, thought she, that is to sink me into nothing- ness ? Lady Charlotte has known my superiority, and she shall again know it ! — It shall be seen whether I cannot rival her in all that seems to make her so charming in the eyes of him who no longer sees any charms in me. — My dress may be as studied — my taste as fastidious as hers ; — like her I can be capricious — and like her I can prove my right to homage by encouraging numerous worshippers. Oh Willough- by ! — and can this be the woman you prefer ? — as a wife you rejected her ; for what do you now seek her ? " 84 ISABELLA. The uncontrolable tears of bitter anguish rolled down the cheeks of the miserable Isabella ; the hasty sparks of anger and revenge were extinguish- ed — she trembled at her own thoughts, she shrunk from her own purposes — the rectitude of her heart revolted from the maxims by which she had been taught to regulate her conduct. It cannot be right, thought she, to do wrong ; — and would it not be wrong to do that from resentment, which my softer feelings condemn ? yet what can be wrong that shall appear acceptable to my husband ? what can be unfair that can aid me to preserve a heart so justly due to me ? CHAP. VIII. " The Devil can cite Scripture for his purpose." Shakspeare. Isabella's carriage was at the door ; she was going out. " Drive," said she, " to Mrs. Nesbit's." " She is the best woman in the world, thought she, as the carriage moved on. I have heard Mamma say so a hundred times ; and she knows what is right, and what the world will think to be right. And then she loves me so well, and is so ready to enter into all that concerns 86 ISABELLA. me. And she does not love Lady Charlotte. And she is so acute, that I shall have no occasion to say three words before she will see into the bot- tom of the grievance. How often has she penetrated, nay, even anticipated my thoughts. I cannot have a better counsellor." Again tears filled the eyes of Isabella. " What am I about to do? thought she. Shall I confess that I fear Lady Charlotte's influence over my hus- band? Shall I complain of that hus- band ? I ought better to co?isult my own dignity : or rather, I ought better to consult my own heart. I will call upon Mrs. Nesbitt, but I will not say a word of my unhappiness ; it may not be so confirmed as I think. Yet last night ! Well, I will see farther." As Isabella made this wise resolu- tion, she entered Mrs. Nesbitt's bou- doir, and was received by that friend- ly lady with a violent exclamation — ISABELLA. 87 " My dearest Mrs. Willoughby! how pale you are ! And there are tears ab- solutely in your eyes ! You, my dear ! can you have any thing to afflict or vex you i" "Why should you suppose that I have either?" said Isabella: "I was up late; and the high wind — <6 Don't tell me of being up late, and the high wind," interrupted Mrs. Nesbitt, with the familiarity which her age and her intimacy gave her a right to assume in her intercourse with Isabella. " My dear child, I have known you too well and too long not to read your very soul in that in- genuous countenance of yours. I know what is the matter. Yes, yes, I saw it all ; although I was resolved not to say a word till you mentioned it to me. Never was there such a flirtation scene ! It was quite abomi- nable ! And that passive husband to 88 ISABELLA. stand by and bear it all ! as if ail earl's daughter could not do wrong. But the eccentricities of the beautiful Lady Charlotte, I suppose, are to be the excuse for all. She is to be judged by no common rules, I presume. " Isabella burst into tears. "And was it indeed so evident? And did you indeed see what I thought that no one but myself had seen — that is, had observed ?" " We must live in a better-natured world than we do for that to have been the case," returned Mrs. Nesbitt. "Yes, it was evident enough; that must be confessed ; but perhaps not so much noticed by any one as me, because there can be few w r ho take so much interest in you as I do, my love." " And were you not surprised, my dear madam, that the very woman whom — " ISABELLA. 89 " Your husband refused six months ago," interrupted Mrs. Nesbitt, "should be the object of so much gallantry to that very husband ? That is your question, my dear. And my answer is, no : not in the least. Nay, never lift up those beautiful blue eyes in such astonishment. What man, with one grain of understanding, would have made Lady Charlotte his wife ? And what man, who has his five senses, but must admire her ?" " Was it then only Mr. Willoughby's understanding that chose me ?" said Isabella mournfully. " Look in the glass, my love," re- plied the obliging Mrs. Nesbitt, "and answer yourself, even though you do look pale." " Ah ! madam,'' said Isabella, blush- ing, " I have heard such flattery be- fore, from lips even more persuasive than yours ; but what avail charms, JX) ISABELLA. the influence of which is so fleet- ing ?" " The influence will not be fleeting, if you know how to make use of it," — returned Mrs. Nesbitt. "Oh, teach me," cried Isabella, " that most valuable of secrets, and take my everlasting blessing with you!" " Why, my little novice in the ways of the world, and in the ways of the lords of it," said Mrs. Nesbitt, * can it be necessary that you should come to me, though I were as wise as Ethan and Heman, and Chalcol or Darda, or even Solomon himself, for what any woman who has been married four months could tell you ? — Is there in- deed so little of the female in that dear heart, unhackneyed as it is, as not to tell you the weapons with which you ought to fight such a warfare as this ?" " I am afraid," said Isabella con- sciously, " that there may have arisen ISABELLA. 91 some such thoughts as those to which you allude ; but I endeavoured to re- press them. Would not the weapons be unholy ones ? — could I expect a fortunate issue from their use ?" " Why not ?" said Mrs. Nesbitt. " Will not the end sanctify the means? If you mean no harm, can you do any ?" " I don't know," said Isabella. " You don't know !" replied Mrs. Nesbitt. " Why then, my dear, I must tell you, that your boasted edu- cation has left you ignorant of the science of life." 11 But, my dear madam," said Isa- bella, " I do not perfectly understand you. What would you have me do?" " Out-dress, out-shine, out-talk Lady Charlotte," replied Mrs. Nesbitt. " Let Mr. Willoughby see that in the eyes of others you are her superior ; — let him hear you talked of for the ele- 92 ISABELLA. gance of the parties you give, — of the charm that you throw over every soci- ety into which you enter; — let him see that others can fall in love with you, and he will fall in love too." " I thought," said Isabella, with great simplicity, " that he had already fallen in love with me." <; Nothing like it, my dear," re- turned Mrs. Nesbitt. " He knew that there was no occasion to be at that trouble; — he negociated with mamma; he did not woo the daughter." " But he has known me since," said Isabella meekl-v. " Yes, my dear," returned Mrs. Nesbitt ; " he knows you to be one of those excellently good wives who can see nothing wrong in whatever their husbands do, and therefore do not fear to do whatever they chuse." " I do not know that Mr. Wil- loughby does any thing that is wrong," ISABELLA. 93 said Isabella ; " and I am quite sure that he does not mean any thing that is so. If he find other people more amusing than I am, that is my fault perhaps, not his." " It is your fault, my dear," replied Mrs. Nesbitt, " but it is a fault that you may easily amend. — Mr. Wil- loughby with all his faults" "With all his faults!" interrupted Isa- bella, " I was told before I married that Mr. Willoughby had no faults, and I know not that he has any now ; he is indulgence itself, and I have not a complaint to make, except — but I know you will laugh at me — except that he leaves me too much at liberty to please myself." " I do, indeed, believe," returned Mrs. Nesbitt, " it is a fault of which not another wife in the liberties of London and Westminster would com- plain except yourself." 94 ISABELLA. " And shall I not love such a man?" said Isabella, fervently. " To be sure, my dear!'* said Mrs. Nesbitt. " Who would say to the con* trary ? — I beg I may not be misunder- stood ; — do not conceive that I am counselling you to rebellion, or witch- craft, or any other such crying sin ! I think you know me better; — you know that I am quite religious. There are people who call me methodistical ; — but I do not mind that ; — I go on in the way which I know to be right, and let people think and talk as they please. I assure you, my dear, I live to myself, and my own notions ; and to shew you that I am right I can quote Scripture for every thing that I advise ; for I shall advise nothing but what shall be for the good of your hus- band, and your happiness ; and you will see in twenty instances that I can quote you out of the Bible, that ISABELLA. 95 where the end is righteous, the means become so too ; and in your case they will be strictly so ; for what do I advise ? — Nothing in the least wrong in itself! — only to let your hus- band know that you have it in your power to do wrong if you please, that he may look about him, and make him lock up his jewel in his own bosom, lest it should be worn on the finger of another." " Oh ! my dear, dear madam," cried Isabella, " don't make such supposi- tions. I cannot bear them." " Poo!" said Mrs. Nesbitt. "When he sees that you don't like to do wrong, will he not love you the better? Besides, all stratagems are fair in war; there would be no living in this world but for these little detours ; — yes, de- tours. I am really forced to use the word, though you know that I am a true John Bull, and hate the French, 96 ISABELLA. all but their gloves and their silks, and their fashions ; yes, I hate their very language ; but roundabouts is jso vulgar ! Who could say roundabouts? But there is no harm in the thing, my dear. Witness the good Rebecca's in- genious little plan. She knew that the elder was to serve the younger; but all things are done by means in this world, and so she was quite right to make use of what she thought would succeed best. But don't be alarmed ; I am not going to wrap you up in the skins of beasts. My very first mea- sure, if it cannot be said to be as open as daylight, shall at least be as bril- liant : you shall give a ball." "Nay now, my dear madam, I am sure that you are laughing at me," said Isabella. " What can my giving a baTl have to do with making me ac- ceptable to Mr. Willoughby ? He does not love balls. I have heard him ISABELLA. 97 say that he is too old for them ; and I wished at that moment that I did not love dancing so well, lest he should think himself too old for me too." " He is not too old," replied Mrs. Nesbitt, "to admire the pretty fancies of a pretty woman in the decorations of a ball, my dear. I saw that pretty plainly when Lady Charlotte, like the old woman in the fairy-tale, turned all her tradesman husband's eggs and nuts into pearls and diamonds, and asto- nished the whole world by the taste and splendour of her debut in fite making. Deuce take the French ! their words are always on one's tongue, I think, when one is talking of the nothings of life. Yet balls that can fix wavering husbands, or that can keep doubtful ones from wavering, are not nothings ; and I saw with half an eye how your fickle swain bowed be- fore the creative powers of the goddess VOL. I. F 98 ISABELLA. of the scene. Nay, I heard it too : for, my love, for your sake, I think it no shame to lend an attentive ear to what otherwise would pass without notice. Much good may come from such attentions sometimes. You know that Gideon was sent to listen to what was passing in his enemy's camp, and was encouraged by what he heard there, and so got the victory. Well, as I was saying, it so happened, that just as I had slipped behind some of that magnificent drapery which, while it served to conceal the awkward junc- tion of two of the rooms, was equally an ornament to both, I heard — " " Pray, my dear, Mrs. Nesbitt, do not tell me what you heard," said Isabella. " I do not wish you to listen for my sake; and I am sure that such results as you seem to have met with can never encourage me." "Oh! my dear, I heard no harm," said Mrs. Nesbitt : " nothing, I dare ISABELLA. 99 say, but what Mr. Willoughby would have said in the hearing of the whole assem- bly ; merely some pretty-turned com- pliments on the taste and imagination of the fair contriver, but quite enough to convince me that the wisdom of man can be flattered by the elegant follies of the woman whom he happens to call his wife. Something was said of how proud Mr. Dunstan must be of such talents. I marked it, my dear, because — if you will pardon me — I have thought that you have been a little careless that way — only care- less — mind the word, for you can, if you will, outshine Lady Charlotte in this respect, as well as in every other. But in all the things that you have given since you were married, you have never seemed to interest your- self; provided you had your friends about you, and you had dancing enough, all went well. All was very f 2 100 ISABELLA. proper, all was done by rule — all verv well — perfectly well — critically well — but nothing creative, nothing that bespoke the master-hand which you might have put forth if you would have given yourself the trouble, and which you really must take, for you shall give a ball." " I fear I have none of those talents upon which you compliment me," said Isabella, "for really I did not disco- ver that there was anything wanting in the ball and party that Mr. Wil- loughby so kindly spared no expence in giving, to make as many others as he could, as he flatteringly said, share in the happiness that he felt. I am sure I was very happy ; and I thought that everybody else was so also." " Oh ! certainly," replied Mrs. Nes- bitt, "there was nothing wanting to others, but I was afraid that so far it was a cost manque, as it did not seem to ISABELLA. 101 have reflected any honour upon you. Whole columns were filled with a description of the marvels of Lady Charlotte's feast, of the charms of the fair enchantress, of her wit and her talents. One should have thought that she was the only person in the room worth looking at, and there might have been no Mr. Dunstan in the world. But you were dismissed with, ' On Monday evening Mr. Willoughby gave a splendid enter- tainment to his numerous friends, and other distinguished fashionables, at his house in Grosvenor-street, in ho- nour of his nuptials.' Not a word of you, my dear ! Nothing said of your beauty, of your taste! Not a word as if you had had any share in the busi- ness. Mr. Willoughby's entertain- ment, not Mrs. Willoughby's : it might as well have been the celebra- tion of your funeral as your marriage." 102 ISABELLA. " Not quite as well ;" said Isabella, smiling, " I remember reading the pa- ragraph, and being pleased that the only circumstance was noticed that could reflect honour upon me." " Oh, you would not have thought so," said Mrs. Nesbitt, " if you had heard what Mr. Willoughby said to Lady Charlotte, as they stood shaded from the general eye by the crimson and gold drapery. And I am sure you will not think so when I tell you that this ball, which you hold so lightly, is to be the first step in the plan that I have formed for your reforming your husband." " Reforming my husband !" ex- claimed Isabella, " Good God, madam ! does Mr. Willougby want reforming?" " Yes, my dear," returned Mrs. Nes- bitt, coolly, "and so do all other men who have lived unmarried till two or three and thirty — now don't agitate ISABELLA. 103 yourself — don't suppose that I am going to charge Mr. Willoughby ' with trea- sons, stratagems, and spoils.' He is the last man in the world that would betray any body, though he may be betrayed. — And as for spoils, poor Willoughby ! — he is more likely to fur- nish, than to gain them ; but, my dear, 4 the full soul loatheth the honey comb,' as the wise man says ; and there are certain habits that a length- ened celibacy gives men, and certain notions not very favourable to our sex that it generates, which it is for the wife's good to have broken and rooted out. It is a sublime idea, that a beau- tiful young creature, scarcely eighteen, should be able to work such a reform — a labour of love we may call it ; but it cannot be done by a coup de main, — French again ! I declare. — We must proceed by sapping. " I have heard Mrs. Obrian talk of 104 ISABELLA. such sublimities," said Isabella, with something of indignation in her tone, " but I never could understand her : it always appeared to me that the end could have been better attained bv going directly to the proposed point." " Oh, indeed, you are mistaken , my dear," returned Mrs. Nesbitt. " We must, as the Bible says, some- times ' fetch a compass,' — a little cir- cumlocution. There ! — I have escaped both detour and roundabouts this time. I always say that the English language has as many words as the French, though I cannot always think of the right word just when I want it." Isabella, depressed by Mrs. Nesbitt's observations, and wearied with her lo- quacity, sat pensively silent, wholly uninterested in the comparative rich- ness of the French and English lan- guage, and puzzled between the sanc- tity of the end that she had in view, ISABELLA. 105 and the unworthiness of the means, as it seemed to her, that was proposed for the accomplishment of it. " What ! ' Sweeting, all a mort F " said the eternally quoting Mrs. Nes- bitt. " These grave looks will never stand against the eternal enjouement of Lady Charlotte. — Now promise me, you must absolutely promise me, that you will give this ball, and then, as we proceed, I will open my whole plan to you." w I will promise you," said Isabella, M that I will ask Mr. Willoughby to give me leave to give it." u Now, my dear, this is a tone that will never do," said Mrs. Nesbitt; you have a good foundation in that pretty notion of subserviency to your lord and master, and I know that sub- mission to a husband is a duty. — God forbid that I should say otherwise ; and I am sure I always practised it, hard f 5 106 ISABELLA. as I have sometimes found it ; but m for those supererogatory works, of ne- ver acting without his concurrence, and of rather suffering offence than giving it, they are all, as the apostle speaks, c but straw and stubble ;' rub- bishy notions fit only to be burnt. What would have become of that surly brute Nabal, — Nabal was his name, and folly was with him ; " that man of Belial,' as the discreet Abigail calls him, if the ' woman of the beautiful countenance and good understanding,' had thought it necessary to have asked his consent, before she had taken the loaves, and the sheep, and the wine, and the raisins and figs, and the corn with which she loaded so many asses, that she gave to the hungry David, and by appeasing his hunger, and his anger, saved the life of her churlish husband? — I am sure that was a sub- lime act, if ever there was one — why ISABELLA. 107 are such things recorded, but for ex- amples, my dear ? — You are of a beau- tiful countenance, you are of a good understanding, my dear child, and why should you not act as seems good in your eyes, for the good of your hus- band ?" " Because, my dear Madam," said Isabella, " Mr. Willoughby is no Na- bal, — he can act for himself; and I can have all I wish, and more than I wish, for simply asking for it ; and I have no scruple but that I shall not encroach upon so much indulgence." tc Very true, my dear, very true ;" said Mrs. Nesbitt. " Willoughby has ' a hand open as day to melting cha- rity ;* so ask and have — ask and have." CHAP. IX. " Yet he is soft of voice and aspect ; Indifferent, not austere." Byron. The conference with Mrs. Nesbitt had lasted much longer, and had taken a much more serious and consequen- tial turn, than Isabella had anticipated. It had entirely disinclined her from prosecuting any other of her intended morning avocations. She returned home immediately, her head and her heart full of new thoughts and feelings, which she did not understand, and ISABELLA. 109 which she feared to analyze. The sim- ple sorrow of being rivalled in the ad- miration of her husband, and which she had been doubtful whether she might not owe rather to her own imperfec- tions, than his fault, was swelled to an apprehensive fear lest this husband, whom she had been taught to consider as perfect, and whom her imagination idolized, was not regarded in the world as tainted by its errors, and duped by its follies ;— what was this reform which she was to work in Mr. Wil- loughby ? How was she to effect it ? and how strange that she should hear only of its necessity from one who had been the warmest eulogist, the most enthusiastic admirer of his virtues and his talents, at a time when a little pru- dent doubt, and a little rational discri- mination, might have been as guides to her conduct, or as preservatives from disappointment. — Isabella wished 110 ISABELLA. that she could hear more. — Isabella wished that she had not heard so much. — Mrs. Nesbitt could mean nothing but what was kind, but she might be mistaken. Yet she was not mistaken in one point ; it was too evident, that if Isabella were to possess her hus- band's heart, she must conquer it. — How to complete this conquest became her most serious consideration. ?.Irs. Nesbitt asserted, that it could not be done by the beaten road of obedience, forbearance, passiveness. She must make herself felt, that she might be beloved ; she must shew that she might be lost, that her value might be known. — Isabella was not unaware of the slippery ground that she was urged to tread. One false step, and she was undone! — Yet she a little wished to try the experiment ; she more than a little wished to triumph over Lady ISABELLA. Ill Charlotte, and she resolved to follow the advice of Mrs. Nesbitt. I have rights, thought she, I have affections. Alas ! I even love ! — what can Lady Charlotte oppose to such claims ? Is she indeed so pre-emi- nently charming that all must sink on the comparison? what is Lady Char- lotte that I cannot be ? and what would I not be to excel her in the eyes of Mr. Willoughby ? While Isabella was lost in thoughts such as these, and in a variety of plans conceived and rejected in the same moment, how she could best effect her purpose, Mr. Willougby entered the room — a consciousness of error tinged her cheek with crimson, and gave a little flutter to her manner of receiv- ing him. u You look as if you were thinking of your lover," said Mr. Willoughby laughing. 112 ISABELLA. " I was" returned Isabella, play- fully. " And what was your thought ? " said Mr. Willoughby. " I thought that I would make him a request," said Isabella. " Name it, and take it," returned Mr. Willoughby, in gay good humour. " I should like to give a ball," said Isabella. " A ball?"— said Mr. Willoughby, with a tone of some surprise, — "I was not aware that your talents lay that way, my dear." " Does it require much talent to give a ball?" asked Isabella. " To give it with effect it does — and without it is done in a way that is distinguished, one had better save one's money, and one's trouble, and amuse oneself at the expense of other people." " You would rather then that I ISABELLA. 113 thought no more about the matter ? " said Isabella, with a feeling that she had been repulsed* " Oh, by no means,'* returned Mr. Willoughby, — " if giving a ball will give you the least pleasure, I am sure that / shall wish for no other effect. I had only conceived from the indif- ference which you shewed as to taking any management in the little that we have done of this sort, that you had no taste for such things ; and although I admire the talents that can give novelty and grace to so common an occurrence as a ball, yet I acknow- ledge that they are wholly feminine — I have neither imagination nor ac- tivity for such a performance ; but I shall rejoice to find that you have." — " If I am at a loss," returned Isa- bella, " you know I can call in a pow- erful coadjutrix." 114 ISABELLA. " Lady Charlotte ? "—said Mr. Wil- loughby with quickness. The lucid fairness of Isabella's com- plexion became instantly suffused with the colour of the rose." " I thought of mamma," said she — and they were both silent for a minute. "You could not have a better," — said Mr. Willoughby, recovering him- self — " and when shall this great gala be ? now you have named it, I feel quite an inclination for the thing." Isabella had lost hers ; but she could not now draw back, and the mighty when was soon settled — but if to fix the ivhen did not require much consultation, this was by no means the case with the how. — Mrs. Nesbit was no sooner ac- quainted that the bill had received the assent of the sovereign, than the whole of her little soul was in a bustle ; her brain became a chaos of contrivances, ISABELLA. 115 — there was not a room or a closet in Mr. Willoughby's house that did not, in her imagination, undergo an entire change ; partitions were removed and erected ; boudoirs were transformed into temples ; and dressing rooms into conservatories, while columns and arches arose on every hand w T ith a fa- cility that would have done honour to Aladdin's lamp. Every angle was to her mind's eye shaded with the most beautiful drapery ; every recess hung with the most magnificent canopies : there were also to be so many inge- nious surprises: so many witty secrets, which were to come to light so a pro- pos ! that Isabella was alike bewilder- ed by such a labyrinth of metamor- phoses, and sickened by so much de- ception. Nor was she much relieved by the more solemn and profound eru- dition with which the matter was treat- ed by Lady Jane, to whom she had 116 ISABELLA. recourse a little to stem the tide < Mrs. Nesbitt's destructive, or as she called them, creative powers. Lady Jane, as much a pedant in the arrang- ing an entertainment as in educating a daughter, overlooked the solid foun- dation of " simplicity" in the one, as she did of " religious obligation" in the other, and gave all her attention to details that could have no value but in the eyes of the upholsterer, or the passing moral of the day. The shade of a drapery, or the affixing of a chan- delier, cost her as much consideration, and brought forth as deep a train of reasoning, as might have been suffici- ent to have settled the various inte- rests at the Congress of Vienna. The Misses Hastings also added to the perplexity of poor Isabella ; they had each their favourite plan, which, how- ever, varied with every successive hour, and the continual intreaty of " Do, ISABELLA. 117 dear Isabella, let it be so," — " Now pray, Isabella, indulge me," — and the violent condemnation, or praise of their several fancies, — " Oh, that would be hideous, shocking!" — " Oh, that would be delightful, delicious, exquisite ! " — " quite new ! " ~ " common place ! " et cetera, et cetera, so exhausted the spirits and so puzzled Isabella's desire to oblige each, that she knew not what to decide ; and acknowledging that she had no talents for the decoratious of a ball, she would most willingly have resigned the whole management into the hands of Lady Jane and Mrs. Nesbitt, had not the latter continually reminded her, that it was not only " the giving a ball," in which she was engaged, but a trial of skill with her rival ; and that it would not avail how Ci nouvelle," or "unique," the enter- tainment was, if Mr. Willoughby were 118 ISABELLA. not made sensible that it was the off- spring of her genius. — Under this spur, Isabella laboured on to accomplish that which her real good taste and good sense told her could be of no use whatever to the interests of her heart. Experience confirmed the dictates of these two infallible guides ; for she soon found, that although Mr. Willoughby bore with unwearied good temper the eternal discussions, the accumulated notes and callings that this business produced from Mrs. Nesbitt and Lady Jane ; and that he even seemed to have pleasure in all from which she appeared to derive any, yet that in fact he took no more interest in the details in which she was hourly en- gaged, than he would have done if they had regarded the furnishing of a baby-house. He smiled upon the importance that seemed to be attached ISABELLA. 119 to the various alterations that were going forward, as a mother does on the delight that her infant shews in dressing a doll ; but Isabella could see no symptom how all this display of " taste " was advancing her one de- gree in his love, esteem, or admiration. She began heartily to repent of having engaged in such an enterprise ; and thought of nothing but how to get over it with the least trouble : and to forget it when it was over as soon as she could; — but Isabella knew not yet the slippery path of emulating vanity ! — she knew not the hateful passions that are involved in the single word rivalship. CHAP. X, " Yet I see Thy honourable metal may be wrought From that it is disposed." — Shakspeare. The important day at length arrived ! Mrs. Nesbitt had invited herself to dine with Isabella, that she might assist in overlooking all the preparations, and in ascertaining that all was in or- der, and every one at their post. She also promised herself the reward of witnessing Mr. Willoughby's delighted approbation on such a display of his ISABELLA. 121 wife's imaginative talents, for as Mrs. Nesbitt herself had been the master- wheel of the whole machine, she had not a doubt but that its movements would secure the most animated ap- plause. For these, the first fruits of this so confidently anticipated triumph, she was, however, obliged to wait longer than she had reckoned upon. Mr. Wil- loughby had no taste for the restricted space and scanty attendance which generally belongs to the lords and ladies of the most extended mansions upon such days of gala. He had been out the whole morning ; had returned only to dress, and without having once walked through the decorated rooms, had gone out again to dinner. " Tant mieux! tant mieux !" said the mortified Mrs. Nesbitt, — " I like it the better. His surprise and admira- tion will only be the greater when he VOL. I. G 122 ISABELLA. sees the apartments lighted up, and every thing in its highest glory. Yes, yes, his heart will die within him, like good old Jacob's, when he heard of the wealth and honours of his son. Your triumph will then be complete." " I wish I had more spirit to enjoy it," said Isabella, " but I feel sad." " Nothing in the world, my dear, but anxiety and fatigue," said Mrs. Nesbitt.— " We will dine, and that will refresh you ; and then to the important labours of the toilette." " Labour, fatigue, and anxiety, are but indifferent elements to form plea- sure from," said Isabella. " Oh, there is no rose sans picque^ replied Mrs. Nesbitt. " Joseph you know, my dear, was taken from a dun- geon to be governor of Egypt." " I wonder," said Isabella, smiling, " how you happen to be so well read ISABELLA. 123 in Scripture, as to be able to quote its authority on every occasion." " No wonder at all, my dear !" re- turned Mrs. Nesbitt. " I was brought up by an old grandmother, and was forced to learn chapter after chapter by rote, on pain of her displeasure, which was by no means a non-entity, I can assure you, and thus it is all in my head" " And never reached your heart," said Isabella, laughing, u but will any of your Scripture learning assist Adams to decide between the dresses that have been sent home for me to choose from ? for I have really been so worried for the last week between te bleu ce- leste' and u bleufoncde" between the " elegant" and the " superb," that I have not a clear idea left upon the sub- ject, and Adams is quite in despair at my stupidity." « Oh/' said Mrs. Nesbitt, " I de- g 2 124 ISABELLA. clare for the superb, without any hesi- tation upon this occasion ; and, indeed, I think I could give some authority for it. You remember how gorgeously Judith and Esther arrayed themselves when their purpose was to catch the hearts of those they feared ; — but I cannot say that all my grandmother's gettings off helped me forward much in the article of dress. We read, in- deed, of a party-coloured garment, but that is now become the appropriate mark of a fool ; and also a great deal about needle-work and embroidery, but not a word to enable one how to apply them to the modern modes ; so, my dear, we must think more of Ma- dame Lambert in these matters, than of the Bible. And now let us sro to your dressing-room, and decide be- tween the " bleu celeste'' and the " bleufoncde." In this decision Isabella took little ISABELLA. 1&5 part, and Mrs. Nesbitt and Adams carried all before them, and Isabella descended from her toilette, to use Mrs. Nesbitt's expression, " extrima- merit parte" She descended also with a heavy heart ; although not able to tax Mr. Willoughby with actual unkindness in so long delaying his return from his dinner party, she felt a consciousness of being neglected, and while she sug- gested a thousand excuses for the negligence, she felt her eyes fill with tears, and her heart tremble with ap- prehension. Mrs. Nesbitt saw nothing of all this, so wholly was she engrossed with admiring her own performances, and in anticipating the wonderful ef- fects that they were to produce on the wandering affections of a fickle hus- band. The apartments now began to fill, but Isabella was scarely conscious that 126 ISABELLA. she was not alone — with her eyes fixed upon the entrance, she thought only of Mr. Willoughby, and not see- ing him, she saw nobody. When her attention for a few moments had been forcibly diverted from this only point of interest, on recovering the power of renewing it, she cast an eager glance on the accumulating crowds, to disco- ver if, among the multitude, she could discern that single countenance which she so longed to see. Her feverish im- patience magnified minutes into hours, and to her it seemed as if half the evening was gone, and she had nearly consigned herself to despair, when at length Mr. Willoughby appeared. He came, and he came with Lady Charlotte ! his dinner engagement had been with Mr. Dunstan, and the groupe that now entered was composed of the company who had been guests at his table. Never did Lady Charlotte look ISABELLA. 127 more commandingly beautiful ; and as if she had disdained to owe any of her attractions to external ornament, she was this evening, contrary to her usual custom, dressed with a marked simpli- city — a simplicity, which, if it were unsuited to the splendour of the gala where she was to make her appearance, rendered her the most distinguished figure there, and formed a striking contrast to the display and magnifi- cence of Isabella's dress. Isabella's heart smote her ! how willingly would she have deposited her jewels in their boxes, and have exchanged her gor- geous robe for the simplest garment ever worn by village maiden ! How vain ! how ostentatious will Willoughby think me — this odious ball has occasioned me nothing but mortification ! — were the painful thoughts that passed through her mind as the gay and happy party led by 128 ISABELLA. Lady Charlotte and Mr. Willoughby approached her. " My dear Isabella," said Mr. Wil- loughby, " you must have thought me a sad truant." " But it is /whom you must put into the corner," said Lady Charlotte, gaily; " it is all my fault. I protest I do not know how the hours flew ; but my goods friends here were all so agreea- ble that I had no notion that it was so late — it was quite abominable not to remind me \ and now I recollect, this naughty Willoughby was worse than any body, for he would have another song, another air, till I am half dead with squalling." The covert impertinence of this pre- tended apology was of use to Isabella ; instead of humbling her, it gave her spirit to reply. "You do yourself injustice; it is not so late as you seem to imagine ; ISABELLA. 12 ISABELLA. much, as she thought, beyond all na- tural attainment. But there was no mystery in the instruction that Lady Rachel had to give; yet she seemed to Isabella to be a setter-forth of "strange doctrine," when she talked of lowliness of mind, " whence each esteemed others better than themselves ;" of " charity that seeketh not her own," as the only sure foundation of " peace of mind/' of "joy unfeigned," and of M rejoicing evermore." Yet all was easy of comprehension, compared with her absolute prohibition that she should hate Lady Charlotte. " Dear, dear Lady Rachel, how can I help it ?" said Isabella. " By pitying her," replied Lady Rachel ; " and there is not a more pi- tiable object to be seen than Lady Charlotte. The favourite of nature and of fortune, she wants nothing but goodness to be as happy as consists ISABELLA. 275 with mortality ; and yet be assured that your eye scarcely ever rests on a more miserable creature. To be revenged on a man, who had not, however, in- jured her, she has made herself the property of another, whom she equally hates and despises ; — torn by passions, which are but the more ravenous the more they are fed, she subsists on poison, and nourishes a worm within, which is even now corroding her beauty, her good name, her temporal and eternal felicity." Isabella shuddered. " And I was about to have engaged in the same career !" said she, with anguish in her tone. " You were," replied Lady Rachel, " but with less excuse than Lady Charlotte. She is by nature ardent and daring, — you gentle and diffident; — in her first transgressions she fol- lowed but the impulses of an impe- 276 ISABELLA. tuous temperament ; when you began to go wrong you had to struggle against the restraints of timidity, the shackles of modesty; — all within, pushed her forward in the course ; with you all withheld you ! Learn to pity Lady Charlotte, and to be grate- ful for yourself." H I shall certainly be more happy if I can pity Lady Charlotte," replied Isabella ; " for certainly I have not had an easy moment since I first tried to excel her. My mind has been in such tumults, my temper has been so easily ruffled ! I have felt so vehe- mently ! I really think that I have hated Lady Charlotte more than I have loved Mr. Willoughby." " Pour the oil of humility on the raging waves of vanity and envy," said Lady Rachel, u and you will find that a virtuous love, even when unrequited, is a source of pleasure. It will enable ISABELLA. 277 you to look down (to use a phrase of your old school) upon Lady Charlotte; it will give you dignity in your own eyes ; it will make you less diffident ; and all this lofty structure will be grounded on humility." " Ah ! dear Lady Rachel," said Isa- bella, " do you not speak parables ? How can I be less diffident when I am more humble ?" " Diffidence is not humility," said Lady Rachel. " You were diffident because you were anxious to excel : you will be humble because you will be content to be excelled." All this was new to Isabella, but it was very soothing. The tumult of her mind abated ; and, without the change of any one outward circumstance in her favour since she had quitted her own house, she returned to it calmed, at peace with herself, and hopeful, even beyond what Lady Rachel had 278 ISABELLA. encouraged her to be, that the day would come when she should be as dear to Mr. Willoughby as he was to her. CHAP. XVII. '• This affliction has a taste as sweet As any cordial drop." Shakspeare. From this day the course of Isa- bella's life was changed. Hitherto she had sought to attain the first object of her wishes by assimilating her man- ners and her character to whatever she conceived was liked by the viti- ated taste of her husband ; from this time she pursued the same end, by endeavouring to lead his taste to ap- 280 ISABELLA. prove of the character and manners naturally her own. Without lessen- ing her attachment, she had received the impression that the being which had appeared so perfect in her eyes, and in whose praise she had believed that every suffrage united, was not so spotless as she had conceived; not even so praiseworthy as he had once been ; not so excellent as she was con- fident that he might become. The world had then misled him : it should be her care to restore him to himself; to restore him to the good opinion of Lady Rachel; to be happy herself — happy, perhaps, as no other human creature had ever been ! Such were the visions of youthful hope. If they were unsubstantial, they were not unuseful ; thev did not dazzle to betray ; on the contrary, they came in aid of Lady Rachel's moral, and the conviction of her own understand- ISABELLA. 281 ing. Every day's experience con- firmed the truth both of one and the other ; and Isabella rose in her own estimation, the less she struggled for superiority over others. But it was not only to herself that Isabella appeared to be another per- son. With little apparent alteration in her course of life, the spirit from which she acted was wholly changed ; and this alone gave a freedom and dignity to all she did, that converted the timi- dity of a lovesick girl into the modest confidence of an affectionate wife. The effect of such a conversion was felt by all who approached her. Mrs. Nesbitt, with uplifted hands and eyes, wondered what had hap- pened to her dear Mrs. Willoughby ! There were no complaints now ! no consultings how to counteract Lady Charlotte ! and yet, for her part, she saw no difference in the abominable 282 ISABELLA. ways of going on between that odious woman and Mr. Willoughby. But no doubt Mrs. Willoughby had begun to find that she had better enjoy what she could get, than cry for what was not to be had. Yet if she had not been so tame-spirited she might have had all. She had been listening to some mighty good sort of a person, she supposed ; while, if she had followed her advice, she might have trampled her rival under her feet. But it was not the first time that the wisdom of Ahitophel had been baffled by the cun- ning of a Hushai ; and if dear Mrs. Willoughby was happy, she should be content. It was no longer necessary for Isa- bella to seek the assistance of any one to repress the impertinence of Lord Thomas Orville. A word, a look, would awe him into silence ; and, as he recoiled defeated from her pre- ISABELLA. 288 sence, he cursed the pride which so well aped virtue. But Isabella's newly- assumed powers were felt most by Sir Charles Seymour. There was no marked withdrawal on the part of Isabella from the familiarity and good understanding that had been between them. It would have been im- possible for any indifferent observer to have seen any change in their inter- course ; but Sir Charles felt the ground he was losing in every word that passed between them. There was a publicity and unconcernedness in all she said, that threw him back into the common multitude of those who called them- selves her friends, which, while it left him nothing to complain of, convinced him that she was no longer the dupe of his treacherous pity for herself, or his perfidious friendship for her hus- band. Isabella could not but be sensible 284 ISABELLA. of the eminence that she had attained in society, by simply doing right ; by being less solicitous for the immediate effect, than for the peace of mind which such conduct would ultimately afford her — she thought it wonderful ! — al- most miraculous ! She talked of it to Lady Rachel as a kind of fairy-gift that she owed to her supernatural science. Lady Rachel referred her to the book of all wisdom for a solution of the mystery ; and Isabella, the more she studied the sacred volume, the more she blessed the hour when she had submitted herself to the guidance of lady Rachel. Isabella could now endure to seat herself by Lady Charlotte, and by so doing she came oftener into contact with Mr. Willoughby than she would otherways have done. She had lost a degree of that unwholesome sense of his superiority, which had so fre- ISABELLA. 285 quently closed her lips when he was within hearing. This circumstance no longer kept her silent. There had sprung up between herself and Lord Burghley an intimacy and freedom of conversation, arising from her gratitude for his guardianship, and his desire to promote her interests, that made him an almost constant attendant upon her steps. The seat that he was al- ways most eager to secure for her was that in the closest vicinity to Mr. Wil- loughby ; and there, seated by her side, or resting on the back of her chair, he would engage her in dis- course upon every topic that he could imagine would engage the attention of her careless husband. Isabella, no longer afraid to give utterance to her thoughts or her feelings, shewed that she had opinions and tastes ; and she had sometimes the exquisite pleasure of hearing Mr. Willoughby say, as he 286 ISABELLA. listened to what passed, and some- times joined in the conversation, "that is so true, as Isabella observed!" — " I dare say Isabella can tell us !" — " Oh ! that is a matter that Isabella knows better than I do !" Isabella, upon such occasions,was in danger of falling back into the error of thinking Mr. Willoughby nothing less than a demi-god, and nothing per- haps kept her true to her newly awaken- ed sense that he was but too wholly mortal, except the connection which continued to subsist between him and Lady Charlotte. There was nothing however, in this connection that vio- lently outraged the customs of the world in which they all lived ; nothing that fixed the stigma of guilt on either of the parties. There was a careless- ness and openness in the attentions of Mr. Willoughby towards Lady Char- lotte that seemed to say there w T as no- ISABELLA. 287 thing between them that shunned the light. He was the constant inmate of Mr. Dunstan's house, and Lady Char- lotte was reputed to live well with Mr. Dunstan. She certainly disposed of his fortune as she pleased, arid lent her attractions to those parties where the distinguishing feature was high play. Her partiality for Mr. Willoughby, and her delight in his conversation, was by her audaciously avowed. He was her " cicisbeo" her " cher ami /" — the per- son to whom she could apply in all the little wants and difficulties that beset the life of a fine lady. By him she procured the earliest and the finest flowers, and the first fruits of all the conservatories and fruit-houses in the vicinity of London ; and she thought that she had fully paid the price of all these rarities and dainties, when she assured him that " he was the most useful person in the world ;" or held 288 ISABELLA. out her fair hand, with a declaration that " lie was the best friend she had. :> In all this there was nothing secret ; she rather seemed to take a pleasure, and triumph in displaying the power that she had over him, and more espe- cially when Isabella was present — she continued, notwithstanding, to treat her with the affectation of fondness, and at the same time an evident pre- tension to superiority. It was, how- ever, no longer that she was gratified by the shrinking of Isabella from the one, or that she found herself able to chase the rose from her cheek by the other. Isabella received the pretended fondnesses with a cold civility, which shewed that she truly estimated their value, and by the impassiveness both of her countenance and manner when she attempted to throw her into shade, she ISABELLA. 289 left her nothing but her own impotent malice to rejoice in. There were, indeed, moments when Isabella thought, in spite of strong ap- pearances to the contrary, that the game was not wholly in the hands of her rival. She had seen, and it would be too much for the frailty of human nature to believe, that she had seen without pleasure, the workings of Lady Char- lotte's countenance, and the quickened pulsation of her bosom, on the slight- est symptoms that indicated a chance that her captive might escape her. Upon these occasions it was that Isabella more particularly acknow- ledged the solidity of the principles upon which she had so new r ly been taught to act. She saw Lady Char- lotte, through the rebellious contests of unholy passions, ground, to use the expression of Lady Rachel, as it were, vol. i. o 290 ISABELLA. between two mill-stones ; consumed with rancour even where she tri- umphed ; stormy and agitated as the boisterous ocean, when thwarted in her purposes — while she, the sufferer, could say, to her aching bosom, " be still ;" — and could wear on her unruf- fled countenance the peace of resigna- tion ! It had happened that Isabella had been suddenly taken ill, when Mr. Willoughby was in another room, dancing with Lady Charlotte. The bustle occasioned by this circumstance caught Mr. Willoughby's ear. Lady Charlotte was instantly deserted, stand- ing in the midst of those, before whom she had but the previous mo- ment been displaying her triumph ; while Mr. Willoughby flew to Isabella, supported her drooping head on his shoulder, and on her recovering the powers of motion, conveyed her to her ISABELLA. 291 carriage with one arm round her waist, while he held one of her hands in his. Isabella, indisposed as she was, had not failed to observe the pale and dis- figured countenance of Lady Charlotte as they passed her, nor the rage which further disturbed her beautiful fea- tures, when, to her demand of " will you not return ?" Mr. Willoughby had replied, " certainly not ! f — in a tone which Isabella would not have ex- changed for the music of the spheres. Isabella, however, in general enjoy- ed too good health, to make many de- mands upon the sense of propriety, the good nature, or the still tenderer feel- ings of Mr. Willoughby ; and her equable temper, her even spirits, and the apparently quiet enjoyment which she had in all around her, were so little the symptoms of outraged affec- tion, or wounded feelings, to which Mr. Willoughby was accustomed, that he o 2 292 ISABELLA. found it not difficult to lull to sleep any suspicion that his conscience might sometimes awake, that he was using her ill ; or that while he treated her with unvaried kindness, and unlimited indulgence, he had any thing for which to reproach himself, or that she could have any thing to wish. And it was true, that Isabella had learnt so well to regulate her own mind, and lived at this period in so much hope, that she was less aware than at any former one of her married life, how much was in fact wanting to the completion, or the stability of her happiness. She was soon to become a mother ; and the interest that Mr. Willoughby took in the expectation of his offspring was to Isabella a pledge that, in be- coming a father, he would become all that she could wish as a husband. The smiles of a wife, though she may not be powerful enough to thaw ISABELLA. 293 the ice with which, Lady Rachel says, the world has encrusted his heart, but the smiles of his infant will cause it to melt away as before a meridian sun. When I hold my child in my arms, I think I may defy all the machinations of Lady Charlotte. Isabella went no more into publick; but her two kind friends, Lady Rachel and Lord Burghley, took care that she did not therefore remain in solitude. The friendship of the latter had been peculiarly useful to her. Lady Ra- chel's chamber counsel, might some- times have been forgotten, had she not had almost perpetually at her elbow so skilful a commentator on the text as was Lord Burghley. It was from his eye that she took the lesson which upheld her in the even course that she wished to tread, and from which she might otherwise have been in danger of swerving, as the insolence 294 ISABELLA. of Lady Charlotte, or the indifference of Mr. Willoughby, at times awakened her resentment, or sunk her into sad- ness. She owed to his apropos anec- dote, or ludicrous remark, the rallying moment, which gave her power to laugh when others laughed, and to be gay when Sir Charles Seymour would still attempt to make her sentimental. Lord Burghley gave the word that there was nothing so delightful \ "the Soirees" of Mrs. Willoughby ; and Lady Rachel had sanctioned the opi- nion, by having broken through her general rule, and establishing herself almost every evening in Isabella's drawing-room. As Isabella was un- derstood to be always " at home,'' all who were upon her visiting list might present themselves between the hours of nine and twelve ; and even of the gayest and the busiest, there were few who, from curiosity to see "what son. ISABELLA. 295 of a thing it was," did not sometimes find their wav thither. But the more habitual party was of such who, not being overwhelmed by engagements from home, or who, finding no attrac- tions at home, eagerly seised this escape from solitude, and the tedium of conversing with their own thoughts, and this substitute for dissipation, which from various causes they could no longer partake of elsewhere. To this part of her visitors, Isabella furnished the resource of the card table ; while she found her own amusement amongst the few of supe- rior intellect, and cultivated taste, whom Lady Rachel and Lord Burghley had drawn around them. The group, of which Isabella formed the centre, as- sumed from hence something of a literary aspect, and gave a colour to the sarcasms of Lady Charlotte, that " Mrs. Willoughby was become a blue 296 ISABELLA. stocking." To pick up anecdotes to which she could give a ludicrous turn, and to ascertain as well as she could what was really passing in Isabella's mind, Lady Charlotte not unfre- quently passed ten minutes or a quar- ter of an hour at Mrs. Willoughby's, on her progress to gayer scenes, and more interesting parties. If she found Mr. Willoughby at home, she would offer to set him down at his evening's engagement \ or she would sometimes enter with him and some hanging-on female companion, at the latest period of Isabella's assembly, and tell her, with an insolent air, " see, I have brought your wanderer home." Patiently as Isabella had brought herself to bear these impertinencies, she was not sorry to have an active defender, and sometimes an avenger, in her young friend Mr. Burghley. — He was one of her most certain vi- ISABELLA. 297 sitors ; and he had no greater delight than to make himself a torment to Lady Charlotte. As he was consi- dered merely as a good-natured rattle, though felt at times to be a sharp one, it would have been beneath the dignity of Lady Charlotte to have been of- fended by what she called "his into- lerable nonsense ;" but the buzzing bee would often make her feel his sting, and then fly off to enjoy the ho- ney of Isabella's smile. At other times he would attach himself so closely to Lady Charlotte, that she could not shake him from her,andhewouldoblige her to carry him away in her carriage, that he might be at hand, he said, " to amend her report," which he gravely assured her " was often very faulty, from her not at all understanding what had been passing under her eyes " — thus instituting himself both as a spy, and a restraint upon Lady Char- o 5 298 ISABELLA. lotte, by which he not unfrequently rendered Isabella the most essential service, in bringing over the laugh to his side ; which, had it remained on Lady Charlotte's, might have found its way in a graver form to the apprehen- sions of Mr. Willoughby. But the most indefatigable and assi- duous of Isabella's visitors was Sir Charles Seymour. Do what she would to put him out of his play, lie was too experienced a gamester to be foiled by so truly ingenuous and artlesss an op- ponent. She could not but bow to the opinion that she knew Lady Ra- chel entertained of him ; but now that she had no weaknesses of her own to make her afraid of him, she was not able to discover any thing in the man- ners of Sir Charles that could distin- guish his attentions to her from those of any other well-bred man whom the constant intercourse of society allowed ISABELLA. 299 to call himself her friend. There were now no insidious remarks to alarm her, no affected compassion to soften her, no pretended zeal to interest her ; she saw him but as an amusing companion, and a good-natured well- wisher ; and Sir Charles congratulated himself on having laid not only her prudence asleep, but the much more formidable suspicions of her friends, and was content, like the crafty beast, of a less savage nature, to remain quiet in his lair until he could rush out and seize his defenceless prey. All these different aims and chica- neries appeared to be matters of no concern to Mr. Willoughby, feeling himself secure in the innocence and integrity of Isabella, and seeing no- thing in her conduct but what must be the result of the purest modesty, that she should amuse herself in these hours of restraint in the best manner 300 ISABELLA. she could, appeared to him but as a thing of course, — "what all the world did," and " what it would be very foolish not to do." He sometimes made a part of her society ; but he felt no call upon himself to sacrifice the more vivid pleasures that awaited him elsew 7 here, and contented himself with believing that she was so sur- rounded by friends that she could not want him. n The ice has not yet begun to melt !" said Isabella, with a sigh. " It must be broken up by storms," replied Lady Rachel. The tenderness of the wife, how- ever, still clung to gentler methods ; and the moment now arrived when Isabella believed herself in the posses- sion of all that she most wished for. CHAP. XVIII. " Magdalen, hitherto, has only known The name of sorrow." Wilson. The evening meetings were given up j the parties were dissolved \ Isa- bella presented a son to her husband ! It may be doubted whether Isabella could have been persuaded to believe that there was a bliss beyond what she experienced, when, after having been supported by Mr. Willoughby through hours of agony, she beheld the tears 302 ISABELLA. flow in currents down his cheeks, when he embraced first herself, and then her child, — when she heard him thank her, again and again, for the courage that she had shown, and for the treasure that she had given him, — and when she heard him exclaim that he had never known a real plea- sure until that moment. But the enthusiasm of the hour passed away, and with it much of that glowing hope and vivid joy which had made Isabella assure herself, and as- sure Lady Rachel, that " henceforth she should have nothing to wish/ Yet Mr. Willoughby passed many hours with Isabella whenever he could be admitted into her apartment, and felt no attraction powerful enough to withdraw him from his boy ; by the side of whose little resting-place he would remain silent and contempla- tive until the nurses grew weary of his ISABELLA. 303 presence. Nothing could exceed his anxious cares for the one, or the lively pleasure he took in the other ; and Mr. Willoughby in these virtuous and happy hours recognised the feel- ings and the principles that had once ■ made him equally beloved by others, and contented with himself. From this hour, thought he, I will be what once I was! The time lost shall be redeemed ! — I will live for my boy ! — too happy, if my most assiduous cares can guard him from the follies of his father ! How natural to the heart of man the wish to be virtuous ! — how difficult to accomplish that wish ! To retread the faulty steps of twelve years was not to be done by a wish! " As soon as you are sufficiently re- covered, my love/' said Mr. Willough- by to Isabella, " we will go to Brigh- ton. Bathing will strengthen you, 304 ISABELLA. and the sea air will blow roses into my boy's cheeks." " I understood/' said Isabella, "that we were to go into Westmorland. You have not been there for a long time ; and I should like to see the place where you passed the first years of your life." and it did not escape her that he contemplated without reluct- ance the possibility that she would fix herself wholly at Eagle's Crag. That her doing so, provided he could per- suade himself that she preferred it to any other residence, would not be any restraint upon his more vagrant fan- cies ; and though his natural genero- sity and indulgent temper made him urge her to deny herself nothing which she could desire to have, yet she could not forget that he had said, that he 328 ISABELLA. " thought it nonsense to spend money upon what gave him no pleasure, when he had so many uses for it that did/ His observation, on even the passing shadow on her countenance, told her that he would ill brook any interfer- ence in his own pursuits, and would hold himself little obliged to her for a prudence that reproached his want of it, or for any sacrifices exacted by his want of consideration. Nor could she fail to be struck by the incon- gruity between his first dissuasion from her going to Eagle's Crag at all, and the readiness with which he now accelerated her departure, and for a tarriance to which there did not ap- pear to be, in his mind, any definite end. These reflections took even a deeper tinge, when, two days afterwards, he returned to the subject, with u I have been thinking, Isabella, that it will not be unadvisable to take ISABELLA. 329 this opportunity of making some little alteration in our household. Here we are at the latter end of August ; our Northern summer is a late one ; you will probably not be disposed, should it happen that you really do fall in love with fells and rocks, to think of quitting Westmorland much before Christmas ; and that would be an awkward time for you and Godfrey to encounter so long a journey. Per- haps it may be latish in the Spring before you would think of returning to town, especially if I should dispose of the Hertfordshire house, where you might otherwise have been until Lon- don had anybody in it. Now, all this taken into the account, will it not be as well to get rid of the cook ? I have not been satisfied with him for some time ; he is not what he was when I first took him ; he is very expensive and very insolent; and I do not think 330 ISABELLA. our Westmorland neighbours would much relish his cuisine. And then there is your housekeeper : she and Evans would never understand one another ; and there would be such lifting up of hands at the extrava- gance of the one and the parsimony of the other, that you would not know what to do between them. I think, if you have no objection, I should ad- vise that Le Clare and Thompson march off together : between them they would be likely to overset all the Median laws of Eagle's Crag, and would drive poor Roberts and Evans out of their wits. No doubt we can find damsels in Westmorland who can scour floors and dust furniture ; so that I would propose to part w T ith the whole of our present establishment of that kind, and trust to Evans to col- lect a household over whom she would have the undisputed control ; with ISABELLA. 831 the exception, however, of your per- sonal attendant and the nurses ; of course, none of these can be dis- placed. Have you any objection to this plan ?" Isabella knew so little of the detail of anything that went on in her own house, and would have thought so little of personal inconvenience, if she had foreseen any, that she gave a prompt and cheerful acquiescence ; and the whole matter would have passed as a thing of no consequence, had it not been for the intimation that she had received from Lady Rachel ; but with this clue in her hand she could not but trace, in what was represented merely as a temporary arrangement, and as arising from the unforeseen circumstance of the pro- jected visit to Eagle's Crag, a purpose of making a permanent change in their way of living, and a retrenching of 332 ISABELLA. expense, which she well knew could only arise in the mind of Mr. Wil- loughby from a sense of the most im- perative necessity for such a measure. She was, however, more cheered by seeing the readiness with which he had anticipated her own purposes, than alarmed by any deprivation that might eventually fall on herself. She had no distinct idea either of the re- sources or the expenditure of Mr. Willoughby. She had been told, when she married him, that his fortune would allow of every indulgence that her heart or her fancy could require ; and she had experienced so liberal a supply of money, and saw herself sur- rounded by such a superfluity of lux- ury, that she could not but think that much might be parted with, and yet more remain than was essential to everything that she could want. She was too well acquainted with the mo- ISABELLA. 333 difying jargon of the "necessity of some arrangement" — " some little dif- ficulties" — " what happens to every- body," to be much alarmed by such designations, or to suspect how fre- quently they denominated bankruptcy and disgrace. The word " beggary," indeed, from the mouth of Lady Rachel, had smote upon her heart ; but she knew Lady Rachel's unshaded way of speaking ; and she was rather inclined to indulge the hope that Lady Rachel had ad- mitted, that the evil might be averted, than to adopt her fear that it was irre- trievably incurred. Yet the whole face of the purposed visit to Eagle's Crag had changed ; instead of a few weeks residence in a place where the novelty and the magnificence of the objects around her might well supply the want of her usual society, and which she could quit at any moment 334 ISABELLA. when she grew weary of it ; and where, while she remained, there would be no falling off in any of those circum- stantial accommodations to which she was accustomed, she now could not but perceive that her removal into Westmorland might be the commence- ment of a banishment from all that had hitherto made the pleasure of her life ; from her usual haunts ! from her usual companions ! — from her family ! — that the economy of all around her was about to be changed, and that she was too likely to find herself alone in a si- tuation at once new, strange, and dif- ficult. Lady Rachel had indeed told her that good sense and probity were sufficient for the exigency, but she felt herself ignorant, and she suspected that she might find herself weak. Of all that passed in her mind, it was not possible that Isabella could disclose any part to Mr. Willoughby. ISABELLA. 335 No communication had ever been be- tween them respecting what was in- deed the mutual interest of both. " Spend, and I will supply," had been the only financial regulation where she was concerned, that Mr. Willoughby had ever made ; and she was fully aware that she would be the last person to whom he would unbosom himself, ei- ther as to the evils to which his indis- cretion might have exposed him, or respecting the means by which they might be remedied. To be "good humoured and well dressed," had been his first admonition; and she could not but see that he gave her little credit for any qualities that were beyond those necessary for the fulfilling it. Under these impressions Isabella made her farewell visits to the remain- ing few of her friends who still conti- nued in town. — Lady Jane and her daughters had already gone to their 336 ISABELLA. summer mart, where attractions could be best exchanged for settlements, or where the chance was the greatest, that the flirtations of the Spring might be finished up by the marriage of the Autumn. Isabella would have been glad to have taken one of her sisters with her into Westmorland, but Lady Jane had put her negative upon any such wish, by observing, that her sisters could not be allowed to bury themselves with her in so remote a country residence till they had secured one for themselves — and to this Isabella knew she had no- thing to reply. The kindness of friendship might however have supplied the companion- ship, which the calculation of relation- ship had refused. Mrs. Nesbitt de- clared herself ready to go any where with her dear Mrs. Wilioughby — even to that Westmorland ! — but it ISABELLA. 337 had happened, that in a full persua- sion of the power which she sup- posed that she still held over the mind of Isabella, she had been loud and ve- hement in her remonstrances against any such scheme ; and had represented it as little less than exile from all that bore the name of humanity ; had fore- told the certain death of Isabella, at once from rushing torrents, impassa- ble mountains, and moping solitude ; and had farther denounced, that should she escape as by a miracle from all these, that the still greater evils of tri- umphant rivalship, and galling neglect, would fall upon her head ; with many hints that she would deserve all that she so brought upon herself if she ob- stinately persisted in a plan so prepos- terous. Having thus incautiously de- clared her opinion of the step that Mr. Willoughby was going to take, it was not difficult for Isabella to escape vol. 1. Q 338 ISABELLA. from all the wishes and offers of Mrs. Nesbitt to accompany her in her ba- nishment. She did this by a peremp- tory and explicit declaration that she would not involve any one in such horrors as Mrs. Nesbitt had predicted, for any selfish consideration whatever, and that therefore there was no more to be said or done, but to remain obliged to Mrs. Nesbitt for the sacri- fice that she offered her. Mrs. Nesbitt thus having overshot her mark, could only repent her former authoritative tone ; and indemnify her- self the best she could for the present disappointment, by declaring to all who would hear her, that Isabella was the most obstinate and ungrateful young person with whom she ever had to deal. Lady Rachel was the single person, in parting from whom, Isabella felt any real sorrow ; but the separation ISABELLA. 339 from her was bitter. She was become to her like a second conscience, and as an oracle whose dictates she impli- citly followed — it was to cut off a right hand to be without her. Nor were her regrets wholly selfish — in spite of Lady Rachel's self-control, Isabella perceived the unusual work- ings of her mind as she bad her fare- well. " You are going to Eagle's Crag !" said she, and her lips quivered. " You are going to tread in the footsteps of those whose path has led to Heaven ! Emulate their ways ! You will be- hold scenes where once there was bliss exceeded only by that known to our first parents before they fell! You may not be able to restore this para- dise ; at least deserve to have it re- stored to you ! You will behold the spot where all that constitutes human happiness was blasted with the sudden- 340 ISABELLA. ness of the lightning's flash ! Learn hence, that here below, the battle is not to the strong, nor the race to the swift ; but look beyond this * visible diurnal sphere,' and behold the crown that has been trodden in the dust bv mortal feet, shine in bright effulgence around the immortal brow ! — Fare- well 1" CHAP. XXI. " A man may smile, and smile, and be a villain." Shakspeare. The emotion of Lady Rachel's parting words had impressed a so- lemnity on the feelings of Isabella, which appeared to Mr. Willoughby as the token of regret in the choice that she had made. " Do you repent your selection of your summer residence ?" asked he. " If you do, for Heaven's sake, don't go. Nothing is so foolish as to do a 342 ISABELLA. thing because it has been determined upon, when one has lost the relish for it. I don't half like the scheme my- self j I begin to feel that I shall be very uncomfortable to have you and Godfrey at such a distance from me. Had we not better all go to Brighton together T* u If you really wish that we should do so," replied Isabella, " I am ready to give up the Westmorland scheme ; but I have not repented of my choice, and the less as you tell me that you shall not be easy to be absent from — from — from us. I flatter myself that I shall scarcely have time to put all things into the order which I know you like, before you are with me ; but if you really wish me not to go" — "No, no!" interrupted Mr. Wil- loughby. " Provided the matter is your own choice, I do not know any arrangement that will do better for the ISABELLA. 343 remainder of the summer than spend- ing it at Eagle's Crag ; but I would not have you go reluctantly." u I do not go reluctantly," replied Isabella. " Well, then things may remain as they have been fixed. But I must set you on your way. Don't hurry your- self in the morning. If you will make your first night's resting place not more than twenty miles from London, I will accompany you ; and the next morning, after seeing you all well packed up, turn off to Beechwood, where I have appointed a person upon business." Isabella's eyes sparkled at this pro- posal. " How kind, how good you are!" said she. " I shall now, indeed, begin my journey under auspices which must make it prosperous." In fact Mr. Willoughby felt an un- 344 ISABELLA. willingness to part from Isabella that he had not anticipated, and he could not contemplate her as left to the care of servants only, without a feeling of fear, which yet appeared to him too ridiculous to be avowed. He had made something of a truce with his uneasiness by determining to escort her on her first setting out ; and he thought that he could see her depart from the inn the next morning without any return of so unusual a sensation. But he was mistaken. As he was putting her into her coach, his heart suddenly smote him for thus leaving the creature in the world over w T hom he was most bound to watch, with the sedulous care of love, to the protection of a common footman only. Hastily calling to his own personal servant, — " Edwards," cried he, " mount the dickey, and attend Mrs. Willoughby to ISABELLA. 345 Eagle's Crag, and return by the first coach. " " Oh no, no !" said Isabella : " in- deed there is no occasion ; and I am sure you will want Edwards." " Isabella," said Mr. Willoughby, with an impressive earnestness, which made her heart both beat and glow, " I have at this moment no wish so ur- gent as that you shall have every at- attention, — every accommodation. I ought to have accompanied you my- self; but as that could not be, I should not have a moment's rest if Edwards were not with you. So pray say no more about it. When he brings me word that you and Godfrey are safe and well, I shall be the happiest man in the world ; that is, as happy as I can be till I rejoin you." Isabella burst into tears; and Mr. Willoughby, pressing her to his heart, Q5 346 ISABELLA. put her into the coach, and bad her farewell. If I am parted from with so much reluctance, why am I parted with at all ? thought Isabella. But the uneasiness which this thought involved was quickly lost in the evidence that she had just received that Mr. Willoughby could not part from her without pain. The time may come, thought she, when we shall not part at all ! Soothed with this hope, and occu- pied with the care of her boy, Isabella did not advert to the solitariness and newness of her situation ; never before had she felt herself at her own disposal without guidance, and without pro- tection. The short excursions which Lady Jane had ever made from her only re- sidence in London were made upon ISABELLA. 347 such beaten roads, and ways so tra- versed by all who formed Isabella's world, that she could not change horses, or stop for refreshment, but the chances were that she fell in with some acquaintance ; and even from almost every passing carriage she had a nod, or a smile of recognition. But she was now got fifty miles from Lon- don, in a direction that she had never gone before ; and although she still looked for some familiar face in the few carriages that she met, she looked in vain ; — she even thought that Eng- land must be depopulated, so few ap- peared its inhabitants. She travelled with her road book in her hand, that she might at least make acquaintance with names ; and if she had not been ashamed of her curiosity, she would have stopped the postilions to inquire after the designation of every village through which she passed, and of every 348 ISABELLA. decent looking house that she saw from the road. Her anxiety for her boy made her day's journey short ; and when she had put him to bed at an early hour, and found herself left to her own re- sources for the rest of the evening, she felt all the dreary unusualness of her situation. I wish I durst write to Mr. Wil- loughby, thought she. But he did not desire that I would write ; and then ; — he alwavs so ridicules letter- writing! He would think me silly. Yet I would say nothing of myself; I would only talk of Godfrey. But per- haps I had better not. — I will, how- ever, write to Lady Rachel, I know that she will be glad to hear from me ; and she will be pleased to know how sorry Mr. AVilloughby appeared to be to part from me. This occupation beguiled a part of the tediousness of the evening; and ISABELLA. 349 having slept well, she arose with reno- vated spirits, and with a degree less of the feeling of being deserted, than she had had the day before. It had been Mr. Willoughby's in- junction that she should not travel more than fifty miles a day. This multiplied the days of travelling, and would have made the journey very te- dious to any one less a novice than Isabella ; but she observed the succes- sive places and counties through which she passed with the curiosity and in- terest that she would have done had she been in a foreign country : and had she had the art of book-making, she might have furnished two ele- gantly-printed and hot- pressed vo- lumes, with the views of the costumes and the wonders that she saw in her travels from London to Eagle's Crag. That which is performed daily, as a thing of the most common occurrence, 350 ISABELLA. by persons of all descriptions, in mail- coaches and out, was a real epoch in the life of Isabella. As she approached the loftier fea- tures of the Northern parts of the Island, her interest increased. Her eye dwelt with rapture on the grand inequality of form in all by which she was surrounded ; and although she clasped her infant closer to her breast, as she beheld the tremendous risings and fallings over which she was about to pass, she felt for herself nothing but pleasure. In this pleasure she found no sympathy from her compa- nions. Mrs. Adams declared, " It was monstrous shocking!" And the nurse was sure that u Master would be shook to death.'* But the tender nerves of the one still stood every succeeding horror, and the apprehensions of the other were not realized. Isabella was now arrived at her last ISABELLA. 3,51 sleeping place ; when, as she alighted from her carriage, her eye fell on Sir Charles Seymour. With a delight lit- tle short of what might have been felt in the deserts of Arabia on recognis- ing a countryman, she exclaimed, "Is it possible ! Sir Charles Seymour ! Oh, how glad I am to see you !" Nor had she reason to doubt that she communicated less pleasure than she felt. Sir Charles, who had been drawn to the window by the rattling of her carriage wheels, had been as quick in acknowledging to whom it belonged, as Isabella had been in recognising her old acquaintance. Sir Charles was already at the door of the coach ; al- ready his hand was stretched out to assist her in stepping from it, and his arm ready to support her into the house. But not even the tumult of this un- expected meeting could make Isabella 352 ISABELLA. withdraw her attention from her boy for a single moment. " No, no, Sir Charles," said she, M you must not hurry me aw r ay so. Nurse, give me Godfrey. There — take care — I will keep him quiet till everything is ready for him. And pray make haste ; it is later than it should be, and the poor little fellow is tired." So saying, she received the baby into her own arms ; and having no hand for Sir Charles, and being deaf to his desire that he might " bear her lovely burthen for her," she made her way into the room that was appointed for her, followed by Sir Charles, who, in the newly-awakened affections of a mother, saw another barrier raised be- tween him and his prcsuniptuoushope>. " But where is Willouffhbv ?" asked Sir Charles. ISABELLA. 353 " Detained by business," replied Isabella. " Well, but he is intending to follow you ; is he not ?" " Undoubtedly — undoubtedly," re- plied Isabella, whose whole attention was given to her boy, who had now begun to cry. " You must excuse me, Sir Charles ; I can think of nothing but Godfrey, till I have seen him fed and asleep." And the nurse appear- ing at the same moment at the door, " I come, I come," said she. " But you mean to return, I hope,*' said Sir Charles. " May I not have the honour of drinking tea with you ? It is rather too early an hour to think of supper." " Is not that your carriage which is coming to the door now?" said Isa- bella. "What a blunderer that fellow is," said Sir Charles : " I told him, as plain 354 ISABELLA. as I could speak, that I should not go farther to-night. I had anticipated a solitary evening ; but I hope you will have too much charity to let me pass it alone." Cl And for myself too," said Isabella. " I will return in half an hour, and we will drink tea together." Isabella was even better than her word, for she returned within the half hour, unconscious how the desire of society had shortened the caresses and the solicitudes which she usually be- stowed upon her infant. Sir Charles had much to ask, and Isabella much to tell, of what had passed in their mutual world since last they had met. He had also to communicate his feats in the destruc- tion of grouse ; and to raise her ima- gination on the scene of the " Andes vast and deserts wild" over and through which she was to pass. And ISABELLA. 355 yet, it was not any of all this that was uppermost in Sir Charles's thought. Diverging from the last topic, to that which was really so : " I cannot but admire Willoughbys courage," said he. " I durst not have suffered even a sister to have made such a journey alone." " Do you call it being alone?" said Isabella, whose fondness for her hus- band, and Lady Rachel's remarks, made her quick to observe any impro- priety that involved a reflection on him : " do you call it being alone, to travel with such a suit as I have with me ? I can assure you that I am half ashamed of the trouble 1 give ; and I think myself much obliged to Mr. Willoughby, who, to gratify my impa- tience to visit the mansion of his an- cestors, has got over all his scruples of letting me stir without him. And he has done this too at the personal in- 356 ISABELLA. convenience of letting me have his own servant to attend me." " But why did he not come with you himself?" said Sir Charles, press- ing the subject. "For very good and substantial reasons, take my word for it," re- turned Isabella ; u but with which I should never think of troubling you, my good friend." There was something of archness in her smile and accent, as she said these words, that could hardly be misunder- stood. " Oh, I see you think me imperti- nent," returned Sir Charles. " But Heaven knows how little I am really so. And I could tell you, my dear Mrs. Willoughby — " " Nothing/' interrupted Isabella, u that I shall like to hear so much, as everything about Westmorland. You say that you have been in the very ISABELLA. 357 heart of its deserts. Pray tell me all their secrets. Let me hear of the height of its mountains ; of the depth and clearness of its lakes. I expect to be enchanted with all these : and I cannot become too soon acquainted with their charms." " I wish their charms may compen- sate for their solitude," replied Sir Charles. " But of course you don't mean to make a very long stay in this savage region ?" " Not if I find it savage," said Isa- bella. " I am come to be sovereign of the castle, not its prisoner." " Have you seen Eagle's Crag," said Sir Charles. " No," replied Isabella ; " have you seen it? Pray what kind of place is it ?" " The place in the world where I should like to pass my life with the woman I loved," said Sir Charles 358 ISABELLA. Isabella felt painfully at this mo- ment her unprotected state, and it struck her that Sir Charles having re- mained all night at the same inn with herself had not been his original pur- pose, but had arisen from his unex- pected meeting with hei. Her heart beat quicker, yet she replied compos- edly, " You give me no distinct notion of what I may expect at Eagle's Crag, with those we love all places are the same." As she uttered these words she rang the bell, and on the appear- ance of Edwards, who had received Mr. Willoughby's orders personally to wait on Isabella, she said, " Pray tell Adams that I am coming up stairs directly — you will excuse me, Sir Charles ; but as I keep nursery hours in the morning, I am obliged to con- form to them at night." Sir Charles was surprised, confound- ISABELLA. 359 ed, picqued. He attempted in vain, by entreaty, and by raillery, to make her change her purpose ; not the grouse which he had ordered his own servant to superintend the dressing of, nor the char that was to be cooked with all the intelligence of those best used to its excellencies, could make her alter her design ; she bade the in- siduous tempter good night, nor was she aware how deeply her perseverance had wounded his pride and disap- pointed his hope, until she saw, as she withdrew, his features reflected in a glass, where his looks, " alien from Heaven," shewed plainly that it was not merely a few hours of social or friendly conversation that he sought for in detaining her. How fast I grow in experience ! thought Isabella, and how careful ought those to be in guarding them- 1 360 ISABELLA. selves, who have no other to guard them ! Sir Charles made also his reflections on this little incident. He would wil- lingly have believed that Isabella's prudence arose from a consciousness of weakness; but his w r as not a heart to be moved to softness, by virtue, even when arrayed in so much loveliness. — He was not accustomed to be foiled ; and to be so by a child, who had no- thing but good sense and honesty to defend her, moved his spirit more to revenge than it excited his admiration or his love. " If I cannot make her love me," said he, " I shall hate her! and she may find my hate even more baneful than my love." Isabella, satisfied with herself, and not even resentful to Sir Charles, whose offence, in the world to which she was accustomed, was but of too common ISABELLA. 361 occurrence, was soon sunk in the bliss- ful repose so justly the due of inno- cence : but Sir Charles lay tossing even on a bed of down, and stung too sharply by the malignancy of his own thoughts to find repose in any posture. Reasoning more from a consciousness of his own designs, than from any pro- bability that they had been penetrated by Isabella, he concluded therefore that she would no more return into his com- pany ; and when he sent a respectful message, expressive of a hope that they might breakfast together before each proceeded on their separate way, he looked for nothing but a flat re- fusal, or an equivocating excuse. But Isabella had been only prudent, not angry ; and felt no reason in her own mind why the half-hour that was to be passed at the breakfast table should not be passed with Sir Charles. His imagination had magnified a sim- VOL. I. R 36% ISABELLA. pie act of defensive propriety into a premeditated offence. She gave, there- fore, a ready assent to his invitation ; and by so doing suggested a doubt in his double mind, whether her with- drawal the night before was fear of herself or anger against him, or, what was worse than either, perfect indiffe- rence. The latter appeared most likely to be the case, from the ease and serenitv with which she rejoined him. All was open and careless. The fineness of the morning, the beauties of the sur- rounding country, found them topics of conversation until Isabella was in- formed that her carriage was ready, and the nurse stood waiting for her ladv's orders, with the infant in her arms. Sir Charles lost not this opportunity of leaving, if possible, the two impres- sions on Isabella's mind which he most earnestly wished to fix there. ISABELLA. 363 He hung, with well dissembled rap- ture, over the baby, declared him the loveliest little creature he had ever seen ; examined his tiny hands, and peeped under his eye-lids to see if the mother's eye would look out from thence. What a fond father would Sir Charles make — was the inference in- tended to be given. " Had I such a boy," exclaimed he, " I would not, for ' a day of kings' en- treaties, sell him one hour from my embracing j" and can Willoughby — oh ! I will scold him roundly for such insouciance ! How negligent a father is Mr. Wil- loughby — was the consequence which he here wished to have drawn. Isabella, soon " moved with the touch of blame " imputed to her hus- band, drew the wrapper gently over the child's face, and, without one re- ference to the pleasure of their having r c 2 364 ISABELLA. met, coldly bad Sir Charles good morning ; and Sir Charles felt for the moment that he had nothing to hope either from resentment to the husband, or approbation of himself. Well then, thought he, if I cannot make her love, I shall know how to make her fear me ! CHAP. XXII. " Strait my eye hath caught new pleasures, While the landscape round it measures ; Russet lawns and fallows grey, Where the nibbling flocks do stray j Mountains, on whose barren breast The lab'ring clouds do often rest." Milton. Isabella had hastened her depar- ture, that she might arrive as early in the day as possible at Eagle's Crag ; and she soon lost every thought of what had passed between herself and Sir Charles during the last few hours, in anticipating what she should rind in those that were coming ; every 566 ISABELLA. object which she now saw, might have reference to Eagle's Crag. Her inquiries were incessant. M Not yet — not yet, madam — you cannot see it yet," was the constant answer. " It lies quite down there ; but that great mountain — the greatest of all — that with the strange shape and the high top ; that — that's Eagle's Crag ; the house and lake lie just under it." Isabella looked until her eyes ached, to see that which was not to be seen. At length, as she reached the top of a moderate ascent, the voices of the postillions, and her own sagacity, as- sured her that she did then indeed behold the object so ardently desired to be seen. But it was seen from the pinnacle of a mountain, down which wound a road, steep, rugged, and nar- row, — the most tremendous that Isa- bella had yet encountered, and to the bottom of which she thought it impos- ISABELLA. 367 sible she should ever arrive with an unbroken carriage and whole bones. But the drivers and the horses were alike accustomed to such passes ; and to Isabella's exclamation, " Surely this is not the road !" she received the encouraging admonition of, w Don't be afraid, my lady : I'll warrant you we'll soon bring you safe to the bot- tom." And which she soon found was justified by the ease and safety with which she descended. A few seconds only were given to what she thought the peril of her situation. Every suc- ceeding moment was occupied in ex- amining the objects that lay before her ; and there could scarcely be found, in nature or art, any more cal- culated to fix the attention. The gigantic mountain of Eagle's Crag raised its huge form in strangely grotesque features innumerably varied. Here a ponderous mass of unshapen 368 ISABELLA. stone ; there the light minaret of Sa- racenic architecture ; the sacred ca- thedral, in all its Gothic magnificence, here carried up the thoughts to hea- ven : while there, the meek appear- ance of the shepherd's lowly hut re- called them to the scanty comforts of human existence. Towers of every shape — gateways — arches — all were there pourtrayed by the hand of Na- ture, or arose under the plastic power of imagination. At the foot of this mighty work of the great Creator, stood the mansion of the ancient family of the Wil- loughbys ; a turreted stone building of irregular form, and extended dimen- sions, largely occupying with its gar- dens and appendages parts of the ca- pacious basin which was formed on three sides by the surrounding heights. To the South spread a lake, clear as crystal, with its deeply indented out- ISABELLA. 369 line, and its banks gay with autumnal flowers and tufted brushwood. Be- yond the lake lay a park, which stretched away to the South far as the eye could reach ; the branching heads and elegant forms of its numerous herds of different kinds of deer were seen reposing on the banks of the lake, or reflected from its surface. The whole scene was lighted up by the dazzling brilliancy of a declining sun ; and Isabella, enraptured and enchant- ed, breathless with delight and wonder, could not find words in which to ex- press her feelings. Oh ! here indeed, thought she, I could live for ever ! if Mr. Willoughby would live with me! The if sobered her ecstacy. Without him, thought she, even this paradise would be a dreary waste ! She embraced her boy ; she dropped a tear on his cheek, nor was her own B.5 370 ISABELLA. dry when the carriage stopped, and she saw herself surrounded by a group of domestics who were assembled to re- ceive her, and to obey her orders. In every face she beheld respect and duty, but there was no affectionate gratula- tion, no recognition of past kindness. She came amongst them as a stranger, — and a stranger unsupported, and unaccompanied by the only individual from whom she could have derived a right to their attachment, or who could have recommended her to their favour. Even in entering her own house she felt herself an intruder. Why did Lady Rachel send me here? thought she ; and the sadness of her heart communicated itself to her counte- nance, and gave an air of languor and fatigue to every movement. "Our rough hills have tired you, ma- dam ," said a respectable looking person - age, whom Isabella had no difficulty in ISABELLA. 371 assuring herself could be no one but Mrs. Evans ; and she said it with a voice of so much kindness that Isa- bella felt that she had already a friend. " Yes," said she, " I do feel tired ; but I am sure that I shall find every thing here that I can wish or want." The good- will became instantly re- ciprocal ; for the mild obligingness of Isabella went to Mrs. Evans's heart in a moment. " If Mr. Roberts or myself, madam, had left any thing undone that we could do to make every thing as it ought to be, I am sure we should be very wrong, and should have done very contrary to my master's orders. I hope, madam, my master is well?" Isabella's full heart would hardly al- low her to answer in the affirmative. She diverted the current of her thoughts by saying, " that is Mr. Ro- berts, I am sure ; and presently I must z' 372 ISABELLA. learn from you two who all these good people are. I have no doubt but that we shall be very happy together." As she said this, she entered a large and highly ornamented hall, " bedight" with painted windows and full-length pictures of a long line of ancestry. Isabella stopped to gaze. She was surprised at the perfect order and pre- servation in all that she saw. " It all looks," said she, " as if Mr. Willoughby had only quitted it yes- terday 1" " Ah, madam !" said Mrs. Evans, " it is a long time since my master was here ; but we shall soon see him now, I am sure, and it will be a joyful day to all when he comes." Isabella's heart glowed within her, on this testimony to the character of her husband. " I see so much to ad- mire," said she, as she ascended the stairs, " that I forget that I ought to ISABELLA. 873 lose no time in putting ray little boy to bed. Pray shew me where he is to sleep. " " I hope you will like the room I have prepared for him, madam," re- turned Mrs. Evans.