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MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS; 
 
 A TALE OF THE YEAR 1830. 
 
 What gay ideas crowd the vacant brain, 
 
 Wlisa Peers, and Dukes, *nd all their sweeping train 
 
 Garters, and Stars and Coronets appear. 
 
 And in soft sounds " Your Grace " salutes the earl 
 
 RAPB OF THF l.OfK. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON : 
 HENRY COLBURN AND RICHARD BENTLEY, 
 
 NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 1831. 
 
V.I 
 
 C« Whiting, Beaufort House, Strand. 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 EitpMnion. — II aura mes biens aujourd'hui ; 
 Et son aine n'aura pour tout partage 
 Que le courroux d'un pere qu'il outrage 
 n le merite ; il fut denature. 
 
 Rondon. — Ah ! vous I'aviez trop longtems endur^. 
 L'autre du nioins agit avec prudence, 
 Mais cet aine, quels traits d' extravagance ! 
 
 V Enfant Prodigue. 
 
 Lady Maria Willingham was a person 
 who, with indifferent features, had always ma- 
 naged to be called pretty ; with very moderate 
 abilities, had maintained the reputation of being 
 extremely clever; and with a narrow selfish 
 heail, was continually cited as the most excel- 
 lent woman in the world. The tact which had 
 thus universally enabled her to assume a virtue 
 where she had it not, was of course a qualifica- 
 tion of no feeble force. Early in her fashion- 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
2 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 able career it had whispered to her, that a dress 
 of the last new Parisian mode was an admi- 
 rable mask for the body ; an earnest, and deli- 
 berate, and mysterious tone of conversation, a 
 most imposing cloak for the deficiencies of the 
 mind : and she was well aware that the heart is 
 usually taken upon the trust of these preceding 
 and more ostensible endowments. She there- 
 fore confined the demonstrations of her virtue 
 to a refrainment from all sins unrecognised as 
 of the highest ton ; and to a pathetic vibration 
 of the head and elevation of the eyes, whenever 
 the delinquencies of other people came under 
 discussion. 
 
 In one respect Lady Maria had appeared to 
 rise superior to her own failings, and to have 
 suffered a remission of her callous egotism ; — 
 she had made what is called a love match. But 
 love, like other sad dogs with an ill name, is 
 rejidered responsible for many a crime, in addi- 
 tion to his own unjustifiable criminalities ; and 
 if ever Cupid could have proved his innocence 
 by an alibi, it was most assuredly in the in- 
 stance of Charles Willingham's elopement with 
 Lady Maria De Vesci ! I have already asserted 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 3 
 
 that she was neither handsome, clever, nor 
 amiable. At the period of what was termed 
 her " rash marriage/' she was nearly five and 
 twenty, with a portion of three thousand pounds, 
 Irish currency ; and attached, as a Bath and 
 Cheltenham appendage, to a deaf mother, the 
 dullest Dowager extant throughout the united 
 realms of Great Britain. 
 
 At Ramsgate, where, through her qualifica- 
 tion of " ladyship," Lady Maria maintained a 
 very creditable degree of ball-room precedency, 
 the De Vescis became acquainted with Mr. 
 Willingham, the eldest son of a family of 
 opulence and county antiquity. He was fresh 
 from college, or rather, he had still a term and a 
 degree in prospective endurance; being three 
 years younger than the fair tactician from Bru- 
 ton-street, who had brought the faded looks 
 and blighted hopes of another infructuous season 
 to be repaired by the breezes of the Isle of 
 Thanet, After dancing, riding, walking, and 
 flirting together, with the assiduity becoming a 
 watering place, Charles Willingham very pro- 
 perly fell in love, and Lady Maria very natu- 
 rally fell into a fit of musing. She considered 
 
 B 2 
 
4 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 that her lady-mother was paralytic, that her 
 lordly brother and his wife were far gone in 
 severe evangelism, that her prospects were ex- 
 tremely precarious, and her means most un- 
 aristocratically limited ; and in consequence of 
 these lamentable coincidences, she thought it 
 on the whole advisable to sigh and grow senti- 
 mental in honour of poor Charles and his 
 honest passion ; and to sanction with her smiles 
 his application to his father for a maintenance, 
 and to her own maternal Countess Dowager for 
 her hand. 
 
 Unfortunately the replies of both were un- 
 propitious. Sir Claude Willingham, having a 
 favourite second son, was by no means anxious 
 for the early marriage of his heir apparent, and 
 consequently restricted his promise of an in- 
 come for the young couple to a thousand a 
 year ; and on the receipt of this almost interdic- 
 tory intelligence, the Dowager, whose head had 
 been shaking for years past with the palsy, re- 
 doubled its movement in negative vehemence. 
 " Her consent to such a miserable match for 
 her dear Maria ? Never !" She could not hear 
 of it with patience. 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 5 
 
 Like other stupid old women, poor Lady De 
 Vesci, however, contrived to defeat her own 
 views on the subject. At all times a bore of 
 the most stupendous magnitude, she grew thrice 
 doubly tiresome under the irritations of the 
 disaster which threatened her domestic peace. 
 She concentrated all her prose into ceaseless 
 diatribes against the folly and wickedness of 
 improvident marriages, and the thriftless frivo- 
 lity of the young men of the age ; and she in- 
 sisted on keeping her superannuated kitten per- 
 petually under her own eye, in a stifling Rams- 
 gate parlour — enlivened only by an elaborate 
 effort in lambswool knitting, and the daily lec- 
 ture of the Globe newspaper. Lady Maria had 
 been long compelled to evening casino ; — it was 
 now hinted as a morning recreation, by way of 
 sedative. In vain did Charles Willingham 
 languish on the pier, and mope upon the cliiFs ; 
 her Ladyship was secluded as strictly as a nun 
 of any sisterhood in Spain. He fixed his gaze 
 upon the daily airings of the Dowager's chariot* 
 and indited a sonnet thereupon ; then thought 
 of the Cambridge horrors of his ensuing term, 
 until his grief absolutely expanded itself into 
 
6 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 elegiac stanzas! Both effusions, accompanied 
 by an epistle in simple prose far more to the 
 purpose, he bribed towards the dressing table 
 of Lady Maria; who, having no feelings of 
 filial reluctance to subdue, finally ceded to the 
 united influence of three such tender missives ; 
 and to escape from a dreary home and beggarly 
 prospects, ran away with him on the following 
 morning, and was always said to have perpe- 
 trated a love-match! — So much for the judg- 
 ment of the world ! — 
 
 The young couple did not long persist in 
 their undutiful alienation from the heads of 
 their respective and respected houses ; for they 
 had not a guinea wherewith to maintain the 
 dignity of their " truant disposition." Lady 
 Maria, an expert and insinuating pen-woman, 
 soon prompted an exculpatory, but veiy sub- 
 missive epistle from her husband to Sir Claude ; 
 and despatched another from her own fair hand 
 to the Dowager, such as would have done 
 honour to the sensibilities of any Araminta or 
 Adeliza in any novel throughout the lachrymose 
 range of Lane and Newman's shelves; yet in 
 defiance of the epistolary eloquence of both, no 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 7 
 
 answer was returned to either ! Affairs now 
 became pressing. Even Charles Willingham's 
 buoyant spirits failed to sustain themselves 
 against the depressing spectacle of an empty 
 purse and an increasing file of bills ; and Lady 
 Maria, by no means prepared to endure with 
 patience the exigencies commonly consequent 
 upon " a love match/' considerately proposed 
 that their sole remaining five pound note should 
 convey them in a chaise and pair to Bruton- 
 street. 
 
 According to the most approved precedents, 
 the butler and footman were bribed — the for- 
 bidden door clandestinely opened — and the 
 " penitent wanderer," with disordered tresses, 
 rushed to the feet of the purblind Dowager, 
 who was obliged to put on her spectacles ere 
 she could recognize the discarded offspring of 
 her bosom. Lady Maria Willingham delivered 
 her tale — whether unvarnished or not — with her 
 accustomed plausible deliberation. She wept 
 much, and expostulated not at all; dilating 
 upon the deep remorse of her self-accusing 
 filial tenderness ; and including Lady De Vesci's 
 favourite maid, her asthmatic pug — ay ! — and 
 
8 MOTHEES AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 even her Penelope's web of lambswool, among 
 the affecting reminiscences of her repentance. 
 The Dowager, touched by so intimate a com- 
 bination of domestic images, contented her 
 righteous rage by the bitterest vituperation 
 against the seducer of her innocent child ; and 
 before six o'clock the trio was seated at dinner 
 together, in the friendly intimacy of her Lady- 
 ship's stuffy boudoir — a reeking sudatorium, past 
 the ascertainment of Reaumur or Fahrenheit. 
 
 Fortified by this encouragement, Mr. Wil- 
 lingham addressed a second letter to Heddeston 
 Court; and Sir Claude was at length moved — 
 and if by the spirit, by a very angry one — to 
 favour his penitent heir with a definitive answer; 
 acquainting him that the allowance of a thou- 
 sand a year originally promised, would be 
 limited to five hundred, in consequence of the 
 indecent disregard he had shown to public opi- 
 nion, and to the long established respectability of 
 his family. Sir Claude then digressed into a 
 confession of his own political and religious 
 faith, and an ohligato flourish in honour of 
 Church and State, with which he was so much 
 in the habit of embellishing his county addresses 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 9 
 
 and electioneering clap-traps, that he found it 
 difficult to put pen to paper without indulging 
 in its cut-and-dried pomposities. 
 
 " Good heavens ! what is to be done 1" ex- 
 claimed Lady Maria, as she thrust the epistle 
 into its franked envelope, and threw it on the 
 dressing-table. " This letter is the announce- 
 ment of our ruin !" 
 
 " Nay ! dear Maria, do not let us look upon 
 the dark side of things. Your mother has press- 
 ingly invited us to make her house our home, 
 and we need therefore consider this niggardly 
 allowance as only present pocket money." 
 
 " A home ! Yes ! and a charming home it is ; 
 stifled with sick lap-dogs, a tribe of toad eaters, 
 and their nightly card table, — and stunned from 
 morning till night with the monotonous shrieks 
 of a peevish parrot !" 
 
 " Dearest Maria ! recollect for a moment the 
 affectionate interest with which you used to talk 
 to me at Ramsgate of the attractions of your 
 beloved home !" 
 
 Lady Maria shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 " And of your duties towards the declin- 
 ing age of an excellent parent ! All these may 
 
 B 3 
 
10 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 be now fulfilled ; and lightened — may I not say- 
 so, dearest love ? — by the companionship of a 
 person faithfully and fondly attached to you." 
 
 ^' And even suppose, Charles, that we do 
 resign ourselves to the slavery of boring on with 
 mamma, she cannot live for ever ; and I know 
 Liniment has long thought her in a very declin- 
 ing way." 
 
 Young Willingham was rather shocked by 
 this light allusion to the death of a parent, 
 who, despite her foible for sick lap-dogs and 
 loo-playing toadies, was still a parent ; — but it 
 was uttered by the lips of his dearest Maria, and 
 he forgave it. 
 
 '^ Liniment may be mistaken ; and whenever 
 the melancholy event really takes place, you 
 will of course derive some slight advantages 
 from Lady De Vesci's will, to replace her pre- 
 sent kindness and generosity." 
 
 " Advantages ! you are quite mistaken. Ad- 
 vantages ! not a shilling ! My mother has no- 
 thing but her jointure — has not saved a guinea, 
 to my certain knowledge ; and my brother will do 
 nothing for me beyond the regular payment of 
 my miserable pittance. What a prospect !" 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 11 
 
 ^' You have always told me," said Willing- 
 ham, unwittingly, " that you were totally igno- 
 rant of the state of Lady De Vesci's affairs, and 
 that your brother had often spoken of increasing 
 your provision." 
 
 " Did I ? You take things so literally ! At 
 all events nothing can be more literal and posi- 
 tive than your father's letter ; and nothing more 
 certain than that till the death of Sir Claude, 
 we have nothing to do but to starve on six hun- 
 dred a year." 
 
 " Certain ? By no means ! We must con- 
 trive, dearest Maria, that he should see youj 
 that he should become acquainted with all your 
 excellent and endearing qualities, and I am con- 
 vinced that he will not persist in his opposition. 
 My father, although a valetudinarian, was for- 
 merly esteemed one of the most polished men in 
 England, and he is quite capable of appreciat- 
 ing your elegant mind and manners. Besides, 
 love, supposing our income to be limited for a 
 time, our ultimate prospects are secured by a 
 strict entail; and then, how often have you 
 assured me that competence with the man you 
 love—" 
 
12 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS, 
 
 '' Competence ? — absurd ! — Charles, Charles, 
 do not deceive yourself with set phrases. What 
 you call competence, I call penury. However, 
 it is too late to think about it now. Six hun- 
 dred a-year ! — Heigho ! " 
 
 And " heigho ! " echoed the mortified Wil- 
 lingham, as he left the room, and consoled him- 
 self with the companionship of Lady De Vesci's 
 fretful parrot ; whose " set phrases" he began to 
 think, for the first time, preferable to those of 
 his own dearest Maria. 
 
 Her Ladyship's prognostications, however, 
 whether couched in set or random phrases, were 
 strictly fulfilled. Lady De Vesci gradually 
 dowagered away ; every east wind filled her af- 
 fectionate daughter with alarm ; and not Pope 
 himself could have " rocked the cradle of de- 
 clinino- ag^e" with a more tremulous solicitude 
 than that which was instigated by Lady Maria's 
 dread of forfeiture of her mother's handsome 
 estabhshment and comfortable table. She was 
 held up as a mirror of filial imitation to their 
 remiss offspring by every Dowager throughout 
 the parishes of St. George and St. James. No- 
 body, indeed, could be more assiduously expert 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS, 13 
 
 in placing the gorgeous Indian screen impervious 
 to a draught ; nobody more accurately versed 
 in the mysteries of chicken-panada! But all 
 would not do. In spite of her watchful vigi- 
 lance, in spite of Liniment's co-operative care, 
 poor paralytic Lady De Vesci died in the 
 agitation of her first grandchild's first tooth. 
 I say grandchild in all its neutral indefinity ; 
 because I am unwilling to admit, that a person 
 so provident as Lady Maria Willingham, could 
 have been guilty of producing a daughter in 
 utter disregard of the Heddeston Court entail ! 
 A daughter, however, it was ; and before its 
 discontented mother had recovered the horrible 
 crisis of her ejection from the comfortable do- 
 micile of Bruton-street, which now, by a remi- 
 niscent figure of speech, became once more " her 
 beloved home ; " before she had tamed down 
 her endurance to her damp cottage at Chiswick, 
 and the tough roast mutton which forms the 
 legitimate nutriment of a love match, a second 
 came to magnify the sum total of her disasters ! 
 Two little Miss Willino^hams in less than three 
 years ; — and Charles pretending to be so fond of 
 them too — just by way of contradiction ! 
 
14 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 The budding of this second female olive 
 branch, meanwhile, determined Mr. WiUing- 
 liam to make a second appeal to his father's li- 
 berality ; but as he had formerly prospered so 
 ill in his written manifesto of misfortune, he 
 resolved, in the present instance, to try the effect 
 of viva voce solicitation. Having considerably 
 improved in familiar tactics under Lady Maria's 
 tuition, he had become aware that it is much 
 easier to write " no " than to say it, particularly 
 to one's own and eldest son. He put himself 
 accordingly into the mail ; and just as daylight 
 began to glimmer over the goodly hop-grounds 
 of the county of Kent, he alighted at the Three 
 Fiddlers, the highly unpoetical ensign of the 
 inn at Heddeston, the family at the court being 
 much too ancient, and loo highly established, 
 to seek or endure the vulgar propitiation of 
 '* the Willingham Arms " in their own especial 
 and feudal village. 
 
 Poor Charles had many sufferings to undergo 
 in this retreat of rural indulgence, besides the 
 company of the exciseman and tax-gatherer, 
 the perfumes of punch and tobacco, and the 
 gritty tenure of a sanded floor, which he had 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 15 
 
 patiently anticipated. After a due encounter 
 with the respectful recognition of the tap-room 
 and its presidency, he had to learn that he was 
 pretty universally regarded as a disgraced and 
 exherited member of the house of Willingham ; 
 while his younger brother, who, by a precipitate 
 union with the daughter of his private tutor, had 
 certainly " defied the opinion of the Vvorld, and 
 outraged the prejudices of his family," in a 
 degree far more flagrant than that of his own 
 delinquencies — was comfortably settled under 
 his father's roof-tree, with a full and unlimited 
 dominion over park and chase, cellar and but- 
 tery, treasury and rent-roll, throughout the li- 
 berties of Heddeston and its court ! Mine host 
 of the Fiddlers naturally accompanied this 
 advertisement of mischance with the ancient 
 and appropriate saw, which forbids one man 
 to look over a gate, and permits another to ab- 
 duct the steed from its pasture ; and poor 
 Charles was fain to admit the plausibility of the 
 dictum. 
 
 But Mr. Willingham had not journeyed sixty 
 miles to content himself with the philosophy of 
 a village hostel. It is written that '* there are 
 
1^ MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 more things in heaven and earth than are 
 dreamed of in " even that of the Danish Ho- 
 ratio ; and Charles earnestly trusted that there 
 might be consolations in store for him in his 
 father's mansion, beyond the conjectures of the 
 tap-room of the Fiddlers. Accordingly, after 
 the performance of certain tonsorial, lavatorial, 
 and masticator! al duties, he set forward upon 
 his humiliating errand ; and arrived at the lodge 
 of Heddeston Court in a plight but ill becoming 
 the heir of all its dignities. He found himself, 
 however, warmly, and even affectionately, wel- 
 comed by the old retainers of the house; to 
 whom the remembrance of his boyish inconsi- 
 deration remained the more precious, from the 
 contrast it afforded with Mr. Joseph's parsimo- 
 nious habits and chilling reserve. Dependents 
 are more frequently attached to us by our fail- 
 ino'S than by our virtues. 
 
 Charles Willingham was conscious of a pain- 
 ful thrill of reminiscence on entering the old 
 hall. It was very early; none but the do- 
 mestics were yet astir ; yet, even among these, 
 he found himself greeted by a far more eager 
 burst of sympathy than had been personally 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 17 
 
 bestowed upon him since his departure from his 
 hereditary home. Lady Maria was an iceberg, 
 compared with the old housekeeper who had for- 
 merly officiated as his nurse ; and the tears which 
 graced the eyes of the old steward, the butler, and 
 the body coachman — who had been the eques- 
 trian professor of his youth — fairly put him out of 
 conceit with the refrigerated hospitality of Lord 
 and Lady De Vesci, his solemn brother and sister- 
 in-law. He almost wished, for a moment, that 
 he had brought his two little girls with him. 
 He felt that perhaps even they might be loved 
 and caressed at Heddeston ! 
 
 But this visionary triumph was not destined 
 to endure ; the breakfast-hour and Joseph Wil- 
 lingham soon arrived to disenchant his imagi- 
 nation, and all was Spitzbergen again ! Joseph 
 received his brother with a very sincere and 
 cordial demonstration of displeasure at his ar- 
 rival. The interest of every pathetic history 
 requires that it should have a villain to boast 
 of; but although the younger Willingham's 
 was a decidedly villainous position ; although 
 he was in truth " the mildewed ear blighting 
 his wholesome brother," yet he had not the 
 
18 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 energy, the stamina, the character of which 
 villains are composed. He was a miserable be- 
 ing — strong only in selfishness — and incapable 
 of injuring a fellow-creature, unless his personal 
 interests were influenced by the deed. Unfor- 
 tunately those of Charles stood in immediate 
 competition with his own, and they w^ere 
 therefore pre-ordained to sacrifice. 
 
 For the preservation of all those who might 
 be exposed to a similar warfare on the part of 
 Joseph Willingham, Providence had gifted him 
 with a singular tendency to the garrulous ex- 
 pounding of his own tactics. He was so pleased 
 with his own prudence, so enamoured of his 
 own plans, so persuaded of the excellence of his 
 own theory of domestic management, that he 
 could not refrain from the betrayal of all its 
 littleness, and all his own egotism. " I certainly 
 should not have closeted myself in such an in- 
 active profession as the church," he would say, 
 "only it would have been a thousand pities to let 
 such a fine family living as Heddeston go to 
 my cousin John." Or in an October sale of a 
 horse to a particular friend, he would acknow- 
 ledge, " I am aware that you get it five pounds 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 1^ 
 
 too cheap ; but you see it would have eaten its 
 head off during the winter." 
 
 In his fraternal colloquy with Charles, he was 
 scarcely less explicit of his views and feelings. 
 They breakfasted tcte-a-tete ; for Sir Claude 
 habitually, and Mrs. Joseph incidentally, were 
 too much indisposed to leave their chambers; 
 and Charles Willingham, as he cast his eyes 
 upon the redundant repast and its rich acces- 
 sories, could not but mentally revert to the 
 scanty frugality of his dampery at Chiswick. 
 
 " You are anchored in comfortable moorings, 
 Joseph," said he, mournfully, as the heavy 
 cream rolled slowly from its gilt ewer into his 
 steaming cup. 
 
 '^ It may seem so — the world probably thinks 
 so — and even you, with a narrow income, may 
 fancy that my position is an enviable one. But 
 when you have seen my father, half-doting, and 
 peevish, and whimsical as he is, you will form 
 a better judgment of all we have to put up 
 with. He is incapable of managing his own 
 affairs, yet jealous of the least interference; he 
 requires the sacrifice of our whole time, yet is 
 irritated by conversation, and will not hear of a 
 
20 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 visitor so much as dining in the house. He 
 does not spend the eighth of his income, yet he 
 is always on the imaginary verge of pauperism 
 — always fancying he shall be ruined ! — and 
 60 he would, if Sophia and I did not keep 
 an eye on the estabhshment. The Heddeston 
 servants are quite enough to waste the whole 
 estate ; he has been ruled by them these fifty 
 years, and it really requires a third power in the 
 state to see justice done to all parties. Now, 
 as my father does not choose to have yow, 
 Charles, it is just as well that he should have 
 ns. I have the interests of the whole family far 
 more at heart, you know, than a stranger." 
 
 " Very true ; and, in some points of view, it 
 certainly is a sacrifice on your part. The rec- 
 tory is a lovely spot, and you might keep j'our 
 hunters there, and do as you liked ; and I sup- 
 pose my father maintains his old antipathy to 
 Lord Carmychael and the hounds." 
 
 " Worse than ever ; he allows me nothing but 
 a shooting pony, and grudges me that." 
 
 *' By Jove ! I could not stand a privation on 
 that score ! Were I rector of Heddeston with — 
 what shall I say ? — fifteen hundred a year — I 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 21 
 
 would not give up the enjoyment of the field, 
 and the credit of having a good horse in my 
 stable, no ! not for the advantage of living here 
 at rack and manger !" 
 
 " My dear Charles ! you miscalculate strangely. 
 Fifteen hundred a year, did you say ? — The first 
 year I scarcely made up thirteen ; and even last 
 year, the balance of my tithe-book and glebe 
 did not stretch beyond fourteen hundred and 
 seventy-five ! Believe me, you miscalculate 
 strangely ! As to living here at Hoddeston, I 
 have solely my ultimate interest in view. As I 
 often observe to Sophia, the entail is so strict, 
 that / can only hope to benefit by the person- 
 alty; so you see it becomes my business to 
 watch over the economy of the house, and keep 
 an eye to the accruing funds of the estate." 
 
 " Humph !" growled poor Charles, between 
 the pauses of his buttered roll. " I perceive 
 that my intervention is considered altogether 
 superfluous in the family." 
 
 "Why, to say the truth, I could wish that 
 you had postponed your journey, were it only 
 for a week or so. When my father read in the 
 Kentish Chronicle an account of the birth of 
 
22 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 your last girl, he was in such a towering 
 passion, that — as I observed to Sophia at the 
 time — I think he would have gone any lengths 
 to bribe you to cut off the entail ; and — and" — 
 
 " Place you, Joseph, in my shoes." 
 
 " Why not exactly — that is, not immediately ; 
 — -but perhaps eventually dispose of the property 
 where there was the most promising succession 
 of heirs male." 
 
 " Humph !" reiterated Charles Willingham, 
 pushing away his plate v^ath a gesture of des- 
 pair. 
 
 " You see he had fixed his sangniine expecta- 
 tion on my having a son ; and about a fortnight 
 ago, when Sophia presented me with a little 
 girl " 
 
 " A little girl ! aha ! " 
 
 " He grew more peevish and indignant than 
 ever. He has scarcely had half an hour's acces- 
 sion of good humour since that time; and I 
 verily believe that were there a young lady in 
 the country fool enough to have him. Sir Claude 
 would marry again, for the sole pleasure of 
 spiting us both !" 
 
 " Tool enou2:h !" a2:ain reiterated Charles, 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 23 
 
 with his thoughts reverted to his own experi- 
 ence of the interested selfishness of womankind. 
 ** As if there were not abundance of fools to be 
 found in any county of the United Kingdom, 
 ready to jump at a jointure on the Heddeston 
 estates." 
 
 " That is just Sophia's remark ! and I have 
 profited by the suggestion to decline the proffered 
 visit of two of her own younger sisters, whom 
 her cunning mother was anxious to foist upon 
 us during her confinement. No, no ! I was 
 quite up to that manoeuvre, thank heaven !" 
 
 *' You do not seem to entertain a very flatter- 
 ing opinion of your wife's relations." 
 
 *^ Who does? — one always knows them so 
 much too well ! However, to return to Sir 
 Claude ; — I really wish, Charles, you had not 
 happened to time your visit so inauspiciously ; 
 for your arrival will only revive the remem- 
 brance of his mortification, and without benefit- 
 ing you. He had almost got over his disap- 
 pointment: he even asked me yesterday after 
 dinner how the baby was getting on, and when 
 Mrs. Joseph would be churched ! To be sure 
 he added one of his usual ungracious observa- 
 
24 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 tions about the expense of maintaining so many 
 nurses in the house ; as if I and Sophia would 
 keep a supernumerary servant one day longer 
 than was necessary !" 
 
 " Mr. Joseph !" said the rubicund butler, 
 slowly intruding his portly person into the 
 breakfast-room, " my master has asked for you 
 twice. He has taken his chocolate and half a 
 square of dry toast, and complains of being 
 very bilious." 
 
 " Well, well, never mind, Dickinson. Dr. 
 Dodderwell will be here at two ; and between 
 the newspaper, and the weather — the glass, and 
 the almanack — we shall get him on veiy well 
 till then. Did you propose an Abernethy bis- 
 cuit ?" 
 . " Sir Claude took five or six, sir, before he 
 
 was up.'* 
 
 " Humph !" again exclaimed Charles Wil- 
 lingham, " bilious ! — poor old man !" 
 
 ** I will go and acquaint him with your 
 arrival," said the Rector of Heddeston, rising 
 deliberately from the discussion of a final cut- 
 let. ** For since you are come, he must know 
 it ; and the sooner we ascertain the effects of 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 25 
 
 the shock, the better. I quite tremble for poor 
 Sophia's feelings on the occasion ; her maternal 
 solicitudes will naturally point out the very- 
 serious disadvantage your visit may prove to 
 our poor little destitute girl." 
 
 " And miner ejaculated Charles. But Mr. 
 Joseph had already departed on his pious errand ; 
 and Dickinson, the roseate butler, alone re- 
 mained in audience of his pathetic apostrophe. 
 
 " Ah ! Master Charles !" responded the old 
 man, with a sympathetic wheeze, and a pro- 
 longed vibration of his powdered head. 
 
 It was a shake which, like Lord Burghleigh's, 
 was destined to supersede a world of eloquence ; 
 and Mr. Willingham interpreted, from the ges- 
 ture, a thousand unutterable things. " Dick- 
 inson !" said he, " times are sadly altered at the 
 Court." 
 
 VOL, I, 
 
26 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Un liomme partial est^expose a de petltes mortifications ; 
 car, comme il est egalement impossible que ceux qu'il favorise 
 soient toujours heureux, et que ceux contre qui il se declare, 
 soient toujours en faute, ou malheureux, il nait de la qu'il 
 lui arrive souvent de perdre contenance ou par le mauvais 
 Bucces de ses amis, ou par la gloire de ceux qu'il n'aime 
 point. [ La Bruyere, 
 
 " Joseph, pray take your feet off the fender," 
 said poor peevish Sir Claude, as they were all 
 three sitting together on the following evening, 
 " You fidget me to death." 
 
 The submissive Joseph obeyed. 
 
 " And pray don't balance your chair in that 
 tiresome manner, you are enough to give one a 
 nervous fever." 
 
 Again Joseph was obedient: and Charles 
 Willingham began to think that the dampery at 
 Chiswick, with its freedom of action, was in 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 27 
 
 truth preferable to the splendid slavery of 
 Heddeston Court. 
 
 " Has any one been down to the lodge ? Are 
 the evening papers come yet?" 
 
 " No, Sir." 
 
 " I really think the Highflyer grows slower 
 and slower every day. Don't they talk of 
 starting a new coach?" 
 
 " Yes, Sir." 
 
 " Ay, ay ! but it will be some time before the 
 old county families bestow their patronage upon 
 an upstart city-speculation." 
 
 " Very true, Sir." 
 
 " And pray. Sir, why do you suppose that 
 we are greater fools than the rest of the world ?" 
 
 " I, Sir ? — I suppose nothing." 
 
 " No, truly," muttered Sir Claude ; " be- 
 tween indolence and caution, there is no pump- 
 ing an opinion out of you. An't you going to 
 visit your lady this evening, Joseph ?" 
 
 " I was just thinking of moving, Sir ; and as 
 it is late, perhaps you will allow me to see you 
 up to bed first." 
 
 "By no means. Your brother Charles's com- 
 pany enlivens me. I have got a great deal to 
 
 C 2 
 
28 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 ask him about what has been going on in town 
 this session, and you may profit by the oppor- 
 tunity to amuse yourself with the squaUing of 
 your bantling — your young lady ! — the first that 
 has graced, or disgraced, poor Heddeston Court 
 these fifty years. Thank God, I never cursed 
 myself with any thing but so7isJ* 
 
 " You were in luck. Sir," said Charles, at- 
 tempting to laugh away his brother's embar- 
 rassment, and to conceal his own vexation. 
 
 " There — there — good night, Joe," resumed 
 Sir Claude, fretfully. " Take care to turn the 
 handle of the door, instead of slamming it ; and 
 pray don't stalk along the passages over-head, 
 as if you were ascertaining the stability of the 
 rafters." 
 
 " No, Sir, no !" said Joseph, with humiliated 
 forbearance ; and as he left the room he cast a 
 resentful look upon his brother, as being both 
 the witness and the cause of all this extraor- 
 dinary irritation. 
 
 Charles Willingham had never at any period 
 of his life been a favourite with his father. Sir 
 Claude was a jealous, narrow-minded man, who 
 had been equally disgusted by the popularity 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS, 29 
 
 and by the liberal expenditure of his heir. 
 That he was his heir, indeed, was a sufficient 
 motive for distrust ; he looked upon the deed 
 of entail which secured his son's inheritance, 
 as an injurious act committed by his ances- 
 tors in favour of his posterity. Joseph was 
 the object of his bounty — ^the martyr of his 
 caprices ; but, as to Charles, the only way in 
 which he could exert a paternal authority over 
 himy was by rendering the period of his own 
 life a period of penance to his son ; he knew 
 that he had no post obit powers of tyrannical 
 oppression. 
 
 And then his wilful marriage had proved a 
 fresh stumbling-block of offence in the path of 
 this peremptory parent. Sir Claude Willing- 
 ham was a proud man, and was anxious that 
 his successors should form suitable alliances; 
 but not by connecting themselves with a degree 
 of rank superior to his own — ^he was extremely 
 tenacious of his supremacy in his clan. At 
 the time when the maritime provinces of the 
 south were infected with the invasion-fever, 
 with all its malignant symptoms of fencibles 
 and volunteers, the Heddeston yeomanry corps 
 
30 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 had well nigh brought down the honours of the 
 peerage upon its founder and commandant; 
 and in that case, Sir Claude would have made 
 no objection to the union of either of his sons 
 with a nobleman's daughter — provided always 
 that the nobleman were a baron, and dating 
 from no very ancient creation : — any reference to 
 Magna Charta or Domesday-book, would have 
 been sufficient to forbid the banns. 
 
 But Lady Maria De Vesci was descended 
 from a whole dynasty of antediluvian earls ; she 
 must necessarily be proud ; she was confessedly 
 poor : and the measure of Sir Claude's antipa- 
 thies rose beyond all just bounds. He there- 
 fore avenged his sense of domestic injury on 
 occasion of Charles's filial rebellion, by increased 
 affection and redoubled liberality towards Joseph. 
 He installed him in the family-living, domesti- 
 cated him under his own roof; and offered but 
 a very transient and trifling opposition to an 
 alliance which would have revolted him at any 
 other time by its plebeian associations. 
 
 *'You see. Sir," observed Joseph, after having 
 cautiously revealed his long and secret engage- 
 ments with Miss Sophia Bodham, " a clergyman 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 31 
 
 should neither expect nor desire to form a very 
 briUiant connexion ; he must look to the com- 
 forts and respectability of his future home : fine 
 ladies make but a sorry figure at the head of 
 an economical glebe-house establishment. Now 
 Sophia is an excellent manager — has been ac- 
 customed all her life to clerical habits ; and the 
 fortune she does not bring me, she will save by 
 her prudence/' 
 
 "Of two bad choices, Joe, I own you have 
 made the best : this affair does not vex me half 
 so much as Charles's cursed folly. Two Lady 
 Marias in the family would have been the death 
 of me at once." 
 
 *' I am persuaded, Sir, you will be enchanted 
 with my Sophia ! — such a modest sense of her 
 own inferiority, and of her strange good fortune 
 in matching into the Willingham family !" 
 
 "The daughter of a country parson — of a 
 schoolmaster — may well be proud of such an 
 alliance." 
 
 " Not exactly a schoolmaster y Sir ; — a respect- 
 able clergyman preparing a few young men of 
 condition for college, can scarcely be called a 
 schoolmaster !" 
 
32 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 *^ There is only a bunch of birch to choose 
 between the two — no mighty distinction V 
 
 "So excellent a housekeeper as Sophia, I 
 suppose never existed. You have often heard 
 me speak of the bread at Ilverstone ; the second 
 course at the parsonage was positively equal to 
 Mrs. Frangipane's ; and Sophia, to my certain 
 knowledge, presided over every thing. We never 
 Bat down to dinner that her mother did not 
 mention it !" 
 
 " I wonder what Lady Maria knows of the 
 mysteries of the oven !" exclaimed Sir Claude, 
 feebly chafing his wasted hands with an air of 
 triumph ; although he secretly despised all these 
 details, and would, under any other circum- 
 stances, have seen through and resented the 
 whole plot. 
 
 "Oh, you must be well aware. Sir, that / 
 have no pretensions to consort with lords and 
 ladies ; the respectability of my own family-con- 
 nexions is sufficient for me. Where the estates 
 are bound by an entail so strict as ours, a 
 younger brother, who incurs the risk of a 
 numerous offspring by an early marriage, is 
 bound to consult their interest by selecting a 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 33 
 
 mother who has been carefully and frugally 
 educated." 
 
 A numerous offspring ! — new projects unfolded 
 themselves to the imagination of Sir Claude 
 at the mere sound ! Lady Maria had already 
 produced a daughter ; and might yield no future 
 heir-male to the property; while Mrs. Joseph 
 would probably enable him to baffle the hopes 
 of his own prodigal son; — Mrs. Joseph would 
 probably prove a Hecuba, and supply the Hedde 
 ston entail with a score or two of young Trojans 
 On this hint he spoke his sentence of paternal 
 approval ; and within a few weeks, the young 
 couple were united by his cordial sanction, and 
 settled irrevocably at the Court. It was said in 
 the county, that he was a most placable and 
 liberal father. — So much, again, for the opinion 
 of the world ! 
 
 During many months the establishment flou- 
 rished surprisingly under the new administra- 
 tion ; Sir Claude had never thought the Hedde- 
 ston poultry so fat, the Heddeston cheeses so 
 rich, nor the Heddeston apricots so transparently 
 clarified, as since Mrs. Joseph's accession to the 
 throne of domestic management. She was in- 
 
 C3 
 
34 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 defatigable in wiping his spectacles, reading the 
 newspapers, chiding the retardment of the High- 
 flyer, and ringing the bell for Dr. Dodderwell's 
 horse, on the conclusion of his daily visit to the 
 valetudinarian of the Court. Sir Claude ob- 
 served to every successive visitor that his daugh- 
 ter-in-law was a most superior young woman ; 
 and as Lady Maria's second child had proved 
 to be another daughter, the prospects of Sophia's 
 promised increase to the family soon afforded 
 the engrossing interest of his selfish and frac- 
 tious existence. But when Miss Willingham 
 the third was announced to her ungracious 
 grandsire, the prestige formed by his anticipa- 
 tions vanished in a moment. He now began to 
 despise Mrs. Joseph as cordially as he had ever 
 detested Lady Maria ; she had been the instni* 
 ment of disappointing his malice ; — she had been 
 the means of proving him in the wrong ! 
 
 " Well, Charles, and what do you think of 
 your brother's wife?" demanded the old man, 
 with a sneer, when due time had been accorded 
 for the stealthy progress of Joseph's footsteps 
 above. '* I think you visited her this morning?" 
 
 " I did. Sir ; and your previous information 
 
it 
 u 
 
 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 35 
 
 concerning her had been so unfavourable, that 
 I was rather agreeably disappointed." 
 
 " Humph ! Why you don't mean to tell me 
 that you did not find her deucedly ugly?" 
 
 Youth is a veil that covers so many defects !" 
 Aye, and worse than ugly — mean-looking 
 contracted ; an upstart in every feature, every 
 gesture, every tone ! — I hate a vulgar voice." 
 
 " So do I, Sir; but Mrs. Joseph employed her's 
 in the utterance of so many kind expressions 
 concerning my brother and his whole family, 
 that—" 
 
 *' A mere hypocrite — a very crocodile ! " 
 
 *' That I had no leisure to think of any thing 
 but his good fortune in having secured so acqui- 
 escent and domestic a companion," continued 
 Charles ; who, for his brother's sake, was willing 
 to give the most favourable character to his opi- 
 nions. His feelings had been, in fact, consi- 
 derably mollified towards Joseph by the spectacle 
 of his humiliating and uneasy position in his 
 father's house ; his own nature, too, was so 
 amiable and conciliatory — he had been so much 
 touched by the art with which his sister-in-law 
 had exhibited her baby, and her maternal aflfec- 
 
36 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 tions to captivate the young father, parted for 
 the first time since his marriage from his own 
 home and his own children — that he was very 
 sincere in his admiration of the discretion of 
 Joseph's choice. He could not but contrast it 
 with his personal predicament ; he could not 
 but compare Sophia's caudle-cup sensibility 
 with, the callous and unmotherly fiue-ladyism 
 of Lady Maria. Sir Claude's ill-nature, how- 
 ever, was not to be so silenced. 
 
 " Acquiescent and domestic truly ! Why, I 
 suppose you know who she was ?k^I suppose 
 you know that your brother brought his bride 
 home to Heddeston Court with her plebeian 
 fingers covered with the paste of the dumplings 
 she had been kneading all her life ? " 
 
 ^' I have a great respect for dumplings and 
 their artificers, Sir," said Charles, laughing ; " a 
 narrow income makes a man acquainted with 
 strange fare.' 
 
 " Charles, replied his father solemnly, with- 
 out noticing this running commentary, " if ever 
 you should have a son — ^which I begin to doubt 
 — ^never send him to a lonely parsonage in a 
 marshy country, where there are four cunning 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 37 
 
 unmarried daughters, open-mouthed, to decoy 
 his boyhood into a premature engagement. What 
 signifies any scholarship he may possibly acquire, 
 compared with the low-born, low-bred wife with 
 which he is sure to hamper himself." 
 
 '' Ml/ son (I acknowledge with you, Sir, that 
 he begins to appear a very apochryphal per- 
 sonage) will probably inherit his father's predi- 
 lections ; and had you sent me parsonaging into 
 the marshes instead of Joseph, I should have 
 been far more likely to return to Heddeston 
 with an ague caught in snipe-shooting than with 
 a vulgar wife caught in " 
 
 " Aha ! the truth is out then ; you do think 
 her vulgar ! " interrupted the old man with glee, 
 spitefully chafing his lean hands. " Pray now, 
 Charles, is Lady Maria dark or fair, tall or short ? 
 When I expressed my original disapprobation of 
 your marriage with a poor nobleman's daughter, 
 I certainly had not dreamt of your brother's 
 matching with a poor clergyman's.'^ 
 
 This was the first inquiry Sir Claude had ever 
 hazarded touching his aristocratic daughter-in- 
 law, and the opening appeared to her husband 
 highly propitious. " Maria is a remarkably 
 
38 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 graceful, elegant woman, Sir, without being 
 strictly beautiful. She has great refinement of 
 mind, and a degree of judgment highly valuable 
 to a hair-brained scape-grace like myself. I can 
 accuse her but of one failing, my dear father — 
 that of sharing your unkind antipathy to little 
 girls. She was deeply concerned by the birth 
 of a second daughter.'* 
 
 *^ Was she, by Jove ? " exclaimed Sir Claude, 
 brightening ; " I'm glad to hear it — very glad 
 to hear it. Well, well ! she must come down 
 to Heddeston, and freshen herself up with 
 Kentish fare and Kentish breezes, eh, Charles ? 
 Ay ! and she can bring the girh — the two girls 
 — with her. I suppose they will not look 
 uglier, or squall louder than Mrs. Joseph's ?" 
 
 *' Little Claudia, Sir, is a perfect beauty ; 
 and " 
 
 " You have named your eldest after me, eh ? '* 
 
 " I took that liberty vvithout troubling you 
 by a probably unwelcome request for your sanc- 
 tion \ and Eleanor, the baby " 
 
 *' Well, don't let me hear any more about 
 them. Go back to town to-morrow, Charles, 
 and bring them down with you as soon as you 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 39 
 
 can. I suppose you have a carriage. I sup- 
 pose that, had you been limited to one hundred 
 a-year, a Lady Maria would have required an 
 equipage ? " 
 
 " Lady De Vesci's was bequeathed to us by 
 her will; but poor Maria found the common 
 comforts of life so much beyond our reach, that 
 she insisted upon having it sold, as well as some 
 family jewels, which were far more precious to 
 her. But the sacrifice w^as made to pay ??2y 
 debts, and she has never appeared to lament 
 it." 
 
 Sir Claude, who was little aware that this 
 latter part of the statement was a veiy amiable 
 and palliative view of the fact, on the part of 
 his hen-pecked sou, was prodigiously ashamed. 
 " Then you had better take up the carriage 
 with you ; mi/ daughter-in-law must not be seen 
 in a hack chaise. You did wrong to part with 
 your wife^s property, Charles ; you should have 
 applied to me for assistance." 
 
 " If you remember. Sir, the Christmas before 
 last " 
 
 ** Pshaw — pshaw ! " — what is the use of re- 
 yerting to old grievances ? All that is over 
 
40 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS." 
 
 now, and had better be forgotten. You must 
 prepare Lady Maria to overlook the past, and 
 to enjoy her visit to Heddeston/' 
 
 " It is an event to which she has looked as 
 an unattainable pleasure." 
 
 "At all events," said old Willingham, pur- 
 suing the train of his own reflections, "Aer 
 faults will be those of a gentlewoman. Now 
 you have no conception of the low, vulgar 
 structure of Mrs. Joseph's mind ! For the first 
 six months of her residence here, she used to 
 harass me to death vnth her eternal details of 
 the peculations of my servants. She spoke so 
 plausibly, that she even persuaded me to insti- 
 tute a stable-allowance for my horses; and I 
 wish you had seen the old set of bays at the 
 end of two months ! — It cost me twice the 
 money saved, in farrier's bills, and beans, to 
 make up for lost time ! You must have observed 
 yourself, a thousand paltry alterations in the 
 minutiae of the household. I trust you did not 
 attribute them to me ? " 
 
 " I hardly imagined. Sir, that my brother and 
 his wife would presume to act without your 
 sanction." 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 41 
 
 Sir Claude was ashamed to confess to his 
 elder son, how thoroughly he had been cajoled 
 into delegating his authority into their hands. 
 "Now just look at this cursed grate," said he, 
 taking up the poker, by way of cover to his 
 own confusion. " Rumfordized ! you see — Rum- 
 fordized to the standard of her own parsonage- 
 experience ! As if a handful of coals could be 
 coaxed into giving out the genial warmth of a 
 full, glowing mass of ignited matter ! — and at 
 Heddeston, too, where the woods are groaning 
 to be cut down ! By Jove ! I don't wonder that 
 this chafing-dish of cinders sometimes provokes 
 Joseph to put his long thin legs upon the fen- 
 der ! Till that woman was shut up in her own 
 room, I was wholly unsuspicious of the innova- 
 tions she had introduced among my old servants. 
 But their complaints have reached me now : I 
 have found her out ; and as soon as she gets 
 down stairs and about again, I shall take care 
 to let her know, that if she cannot repress her 
 ardour for minor domestic reformation, she must 
 practise it at Heddeston Rectory, and not at 
 Heddeston Court. I do not intend eithei' of 
 my sons' wives to regulate my establishment." 
 
42 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 Charles Willingham, who, as I have before 
 observed, was considerably brightened in his 
 perceptions by the constant companionship of 
 Lady Maria, was wise enough to discover that 
 this rapid change of feeling, and explosion of dis- 
 pleasure towards Mrs. Joseph, arose solely from 
 the sex of her recent offspring ; and therefore ex- 
 ulted very moderately over the prospects it af- 
 forded to himself. The object of his visit, how- 
 ever, was already more than attained ; and he 
 was more deeply touched by his father's kindness, 
 more gratified by his invitation to his family, 
 than its real motives deserved. He listened with 
 respect to the old and well-known effusions of 
 Protestant loyalty with which Sir Claude could 
 not refrain from closing the evening ; and on 
 Dickinson's arrival with the ten o'clock tray, he 
 patiently spnpathized with his father's long- 
 established murmurs against the inconsistency 
 of his gruel, and the tenuity of his dry toast. 
 
 On the following evening, the scene was duly 
 recounted and re-recounted by the fire-side of 
 the dampery at Chiswick ; and it was with a 
 sentiment of the most elated surprise that 
 Lady Maria found herself, and her parapher- 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 43 
 
 nalia of daughters, nurses and bandboxes, rolling 
 through the county of Kent, in a carriage bear- 
 ing the emblazonments of the family of the 
 Willinghams towards its ancient inheritance. 
 She had already pre-determined that it should 
 be long enough before the horses' heads were 
 turned, with the same burden, in an opposite 
 direction. She had very little intention of ever 
 finding* her way back to Chiswick. 
 
44 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ^When Greek meets Greek — then comes the tug of war. 
 
 ShaJcspeare. 
 
 Three days had necessarily elapsed between 
 the departure of Charles Willingham from his 
 father's mansion, and the arrival of Lady Maria 
 and her children among the men of Kent ; and 
 three days afford a sufficient period for wonder- 
 ful manoeuvres to an active commander of the 
 forces. Mrs. Joseph, under the excitement of 
 her opponent's advance towards the field of 
 action, had defied both doctor and nurse — 
 ancient axiom and modern experience, and, 
 armed in a panoply of flannels, had made Sir 
 Claude's tea, and shared his dry toast and gruel 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 45 
 
 in his own particular parlour, on two successive 
 evenings. 
 
 " Salt seasons dainties," sings Lord Byron ; 
 " Tea seasons scandal," sings the wooden cuckoo 
 of every maiden coterie ; and it was miraculous 
 with how abundant a proportion of envenomed 
 breath Mrs. Joseph contrived to accompany the 
 preliminary two cups, and supplementary " small 
 half quarter of a dish," which formed the nightly 
 stint of Sir Claude. She did more than " hint 
 a fault and hesitate dislike," towards her coming 
 sister-in-law. She boldly affirmed that poor 
 Charles was sadly changed since his marriage j 
 that his brother, in their private conversations, 
 had found him dreadfully low ; that it was to 
 be hoped Lady Maria might be induced to alter 
 her mode of conduct towards her husband and 
 innocent babes during their visit to Heddeston ; 
 but that really after her ingratitude in deserting 
 the aged and infirm parent, who had proved so 
 affectionate a mother to her, for the sake of a 
 dissipated young man, with whom she had been 
 only a few weeks acquainted, it would be ab- 
 surd to expect much, either from her feelings 
 or her principles. No ! it was very plain that 
 
46 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 Lady Maria had no heart! Mrs. Joseph be- 
 lieved, indeed, that family affection was no 
 longer in vogue among the circles of high life ! 
 
 Now Sir Claude, although he detested the 
 traces of low life manifest in herself, and was 
 somewhat on his guard against the interested 
 motives prompting her malicious insinuations, 
 could not, from habit, divest himself of a certain 
 degree of faith in her gossiping narratives. At 
 all events, the favourable picture traced by his 
 elder son of his wafe and home, faded under the 
 disparaging light thus thrown upon its ob- 
 scurities : the whole day on which Lady Maria 
 was expected at the Court was passed in the 
 most feverish restlessness; in wandering from 
 chamber to chamber in fretful inspection of their 
 preparations; which, through the officious in- 
 tei-position of Mrs. Joseph, were rendered as 
 expensive and as troublesome to every member 
 of the extensive household, as the utmost re- 
 finement of ill nature could instigate. Perhaps 
 she desired to extend, to their latest limit, those 
 privileges of domestic supremacy which her pre- 
 sentiments assured her were rapidly verging 
 towards abrogation. Meantime poor Sir Claude, 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 47 
 
 in spite of an extraordinary indulgence in anti- 
 spasmodic tinctures, and an extra spoonful of 
 white mustard-seed, was as nervous and un- 
 happy as heart could wish : — already he repented 
 of his supei'fluous complaisance towards his 
 eldest son's family, as bitterly as though it were 
 not among the first instances of good-nature 
 which he had exercised during the sixty-eight 
 years and a half of his mortal existence ! 
 
 But Mrs. Joseph little knew with whom she 
 had to deal ! As well might she have attempted 
 to " drink up Eisel — eat a crocodile," as cope 
 with the profound finesse of Lady Maria. Her's 
 was the mere raw material — the mere brute 
 quality of cunning; but Lady Maria w^as en- 
 dowed with the same natural qualifications, 
 polished into tact by an early encounter with 
 the friction of the world. For nine-and-twenty 
 years she had been a spectator or actor in the 
 intrigues of society at large ; for nine-and- 
 twenty years she had been dexterously adminis- 
 tering to the weaknesses and vices of others, and 
 for a considerable portion of that time she had 
 been busied in managing her mother, who made 
 up in obstinacy and perverseness what she 
 
48 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 wanted in intellect and the power of self-govern- 
 ance. She had already decided that Sir Claude 
 would form by comparison a docile victim : to 
 hamper him with bit and bridle would be mere 
 play-work ; and as to Mrs. Joseph herself, she 
 felt that it would be a waste of tactics to em- 
 ploy any thing but the most straightforward 
 measures, in discomfiting and discountenancing 
 the obscure daughter of a web-footed dominie, 
 whether M. A. or B. A. or LL.D. — Mrs. Joseph, 
 indeed ! — Lady Maria scarcely condescended to 
 think of her as a rival. Like Napoleon, she had 
 already prematurely prepared the bulletin, pro- 
 claiming her sister-in-law's " total defeat, with 
 an immense loss." 
 
 But the carriage was scarcely disencumbered 
 of its multitudinous imperials, and she had not 
 listened fifteen minutes to Sir Claude's minute 
 catechization concerning the state of the roads, 
 and the promptitude of attendance insured by 
 the sight of the Willingham equipage, through- 
 out all the varieties of White Lions and Blue 
 Boars between Camberwell and Heddeston, 
 before she found occasion to alter her opinion. 
 There is a sort of freemasonry among the artful, 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 49 
 
 revealing them to each other at first sight. 
 Like the Cartouche and Mandrin of the French 
 Vaudeville, who mutually disencumber their 
 pockets of watch and purse during an introduc- 
 tory dialogue, the sisters instantly recognised 
 the masterly adroitness visible in the efforts of 
 each ; and Lady Maria was really delighted by 
 the discovery. She was something of an ama- 
 teur in her vocation ; and her hand had been so 
 long out — to employ finesse in her intercourse 
 with Charles would have been so like advancing 
 en echelon to attack an undefended stone wall — 
 that she quite congratulated herself upon her 
 fiiture prospects of finding occasion to rub the 
 rust from her obsolete weapons of offence and 
 defence. As to the reverend Joseph himself, it 
 was astonishing how quickly and how com- 
 pletely her dislike subsided into contempt. A 
 man whose loquacity prompted him to place 
 his plan of attack in the hands of a rival gene- 
 ral, was despicable indeed ! 
 
 Mrs. Joseph Willingham had sufficient dis- 
 cernment to be perfectly aware of the superiority 
 of her opponent's strength in the contest ; but the 
 mere apprehension of defeat, by depriving her 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
60 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 of her presence of mind, soon threw all her ma- 
 noeuvres into confusion, and effectually exposed 
 her weak points to the enemy. Deeming any 
 thing like defiance, or even bold defence, to be 
 unavailing, she affected a new mode of interest- 
 ing the sympathy of Sir Claude. She assumed 
 the modesty of conscious insignificance, and at- 
 tempted to become " poor dear Mrs. Joseph." 
 This was a dead failure ! While she toiled and 
 tugged, sighed, talked, and insinuated. Lady 
 Maria defeated her labours by the well-main- 
 tained semblance of perfect unconsciousness; 
 like a snake she glided, with noiseless gesture, 
 hither and thither — piercing every auger-hole 
 she wished to penetrate. No sooner did she 
 find her sister-in-law take refuge in an amiable 
 humility, than she elevated her own head with 
 graceful dignity and overlooked her altogether; — 
 sending her to Coventry with the most cour- 
 teous and urbane indifference. 
 
 Possessed of none but the common-place 
 principles of her art, Mrs. Joseph meanwhile 
 continued to employ them as the forlorn hope 
 of her ambition. She persisted in addressing 
 her flagrant adulation to Sir Claude, uncon- 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 51 
 
 scious that, although he had been contented to 
 swallow its flattery while no spectator stood by 
 to satirize the meanness of both, he was by no 
 means anxious to betray his corrupt appetite to 
 his new inmate. She had instructed her nurse 
 to angle for his favour with the usual grand- 
 father's bait — the marvellous likeness of her 
 jaundiced infant to himself; and to contrive 
 that its daily walks should cross his daily air- 
 ings, and its ascent and descent of the great 
 stairs coincide with his own periodical hours of 
 rising and setting. But it had never occurred 
 to her plebeian taste to feminize the Christian 
 appellation of the touchy Baronet ; and while 
 she became fidgeted to agonies by his frequent 
 inquiries after little Claudia, she was amazed 
 by the rigid tenacity with which Lady Maria 
 persisted in secluding her children from his ob- 
 servation. On her first arrival she had pru- 
 dently selected for their use the hereditary 
 nursery of the house ; which, as is usually the 
 case in respectable old family mansions, was 
 elevated beyond all risk of intruding its cla- 
 mours on the rest of the family ; and was un- 
 disturbed itself by aught save the cawing of 
 
 D £ 
 
52 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 rooks on the chimney tops, or the eaves-drop- 
 ping companionship of the swifts and swallows. 
 
 The two unwelcome Miss Willinghams, there- 
 fore, were neither seen, nor heard of, nor thought 
 of in the family. Lady Maria had the sense to 
 resist all the old man's courteous overtures for 
 their appearance in the drawing-room ; and no 
 sooner did he commence his daily inquiries 
 concerning " poor little Claudia," than she im- 
 mediately led him to incidentalize on his own 
 " life and times," by some adroit allusion to 
 Lord North's administration (the epoch of his 
 maiden speech) ; or by some inquiry touching 
 the beauty of Lady Sarah Bunbury, who was 
 the cousin and court-rival of his first love. She 
 possessed a divining rod, at whose touch the 
 rock-spring of his latent eloquence failed not to 
 burst forth ; and a mental stop-watch, by which 
 she could exactly ascertain and limit the dura- 
 lion of its flow. 
 
 Now of Lord North and Lady Sarah, Mrs. 
 Joseph was wholly innocent ; nor did the ex- 
 perience of her marsh seclusion suggest a single 
 question by which she could mark an assumed 
 interest in the topic, or prolong the debate. 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 63 
 
 Besides, Lady Maria possessed another vantage 
 ground of unquestionable supremacy. Consti- 
 tutionally trained from her earliest youth by 
 the thermometer of a Dowager's temperament, 
 she could not only preserve an unheightened 
 complexion amidst the feverish excitements of 
 the atmosphere of Sir Claude's valetudinarian 
 parlour, but could actually luxuriate in the 
 breathlessness of his hermetically-sealed cha- 
 riot; — an enclosure which Mrs. Joseph, whose 
 experience was limited to the parsonic modesty 
 of a gig, never encountered without peril of epi- 
 lepsy. Her Galenic maxims, too, were culled 
 from the exploded pages of Buchan, while those 
 of Lady Maria recorded the viva voce wisdom 
 of Sir Walter Farquhar and Dr. Baillie ; and 
 could run through an extempore scale of fashion- 
 able nostrums, including every " anti " that ever 
 enriched the stamp-office, or the columns of the 
 Morning Post. 
 
 Sir Claude Willingham became insensibly 
 entranced by the influence of all these domestic 
 accomplishments. Weeks passed away like 
 days, and months like weeks ; and although 
 Lady Maria refrained not from periodical allu- 
 
54 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 sions to the charms of Chiswick, to the cording 
 of trunks, and the epistolary importunities of her 
 London friends and relatives for their return, 
 she was delighted to perceive that the old gen- 
 tleman was obstinately pre-determined against 
 sanctioning their further domiciliation at the 
 dampery. No sooner had she satisfied herself 
 that her society w^as vitally important to his 
 comfort, than she resolved to retain an absentee 
 tenure upon that much-abhorred dw^elling, as an 
 admonitory rod to be held, in terrorem, over the 
 head of her father-in-law ; and the very name 
 of Chiswick became converted into a sort of 
 spur wherewith to rouse his flagging affections* 
 
 With the valetocracy of Heddeston Court, in 
 the mean time, Lady Maria entertained a tacit 
 alliance, after the fashion of the unjust steward : 
 giving them no personal trouble, and graciously 
 overlooking peculation and peccadillos wherever 
 they confronted her eye. Moreover, she pos- 
 sessed over Mrs. Joseph, in the estimation of 
 the ancient servants of the house, the superla- 
 tive charm of patrician rank ; she was not only 
 the wife of the heir apparent of all its honours, 
 but, by birthright, herself a Ladyship ! If pride 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 55 
 
 were banished from the earth, it would be found 
 safely sheltered in the steward's room of some 
 family mansion ! — the last temple dedicated to 
 its altars. 
 
 The neighbours, too, were all on the eldest, 
 or inheriting side of the question. The grandi- 
 osities, from a dread of plebeian intrusion into 
 their mystic circle ; and the mediocrities, from a 
 jealousy of seeing Mrs. Joseph promoted over 
 their own heads. 
 
 *' It must be a great bore to poor Lady Maria 
 Willingham, who has always been accustomed 
 to such good society, to find herself forced into 
 association with that vulgar schoolmaster's 
 daughter,'^ said Lady Monteagle to her own 
 four tall spinsters, each and all of whom had 
 formerly attempted, without success, to under- 
 mine the fidelity of the staunch Joseph towards 
 his heroine of the marshes. 
 
 ** It must, indeed, mamma," replied Miss 
 Marian, the eldest of the maiden squadron, 
 '* A younger brother's wife, too, to set herself 
 up as an authority — and such an authority! 
 She had actually contrived to persuade that 
 poor silly old man to shut himself up in his for- 
 
56 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 lorn dungeon, and convert himself into a recluse ! 
 However, since Lady Maria's arrival, things 
 have found their way back into their old chan- 
 nel. We have dined at Heddeston four or five 
 times since Christmas ; and although one sel- 
 dom meets any one there but the old humdrum 
 county set — people one knows by heart in all 
 their samenesses of dress, equipage, and opi- 
 nions — still it is better than having the house 
 of our nearest neighbour barred up, like the 
 County Lunatic Asylum." 
 
 " True, my dear ; and although, as you wisely 
 observe, we never meet any thing new there — 
 any thing available'' — she looked significantly 
 at her four unmarried daughters — " yet the 
 house is a very good resource whenever we have 
 a party staying with us. Heddeston Court, 
 and a luncheon, form an excellent object for a 
 ride, when your brother and his college friends 
 are here. It looks suspicious, you know, to 
 keep young men sauntering about the shrub- 
 beries, or lounging in the music-room all the 
 morning ; and it is far more agreeable, and more 
 useful too, to find the honours done by a woman 
 of the world, like Lady Maria, than by such a 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 57 
 
 prim, underbred, overbred, ceremonious per- 
 sonage as that Mrs. Joseph." 
 
 " To be sure it is," exclaimed Margaret, the 
 youngest of the quartette. " She might have 
 done very well to preside over the baked meats 
 of the smoky vicarage parlour ; but I never saw 
 any one more miserably misplaced than she used 
 to look in that grand old hall, among the family 
 plate and family pictures. It was entirely Mrs. 
 Joseph, by-the-bye, who put a stop to our pro- 
 ject of a bow-meeting in Heddeston Vale." 
 
 " Yes, Margaret," rejoined her sister, " and 
 don't you remember when she planted Lord 
 Stapylford next mamma that morning at lun- 
 cheon ? — and having placed you and me together, 
 desired her own stupid bore of a husband to 
 ' take care of the young ladies ;* — as if he knew 
 how to do any thing but take care of himself t 
 Such ignorance of the world ! Now, Lady 
 Maria has 50 much tact ! " 
 
 " I must say," observed Mrs. Darnham, the 
 wife of the curate of Heddeston, to her mild 
 spouse, *' that Lady Maria's arrival at the Court 
 has been a very fortunate event. This is the 
 second haunch we have had this season, be- 
 
 D 3 
 
58 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 sides constant supplies of fruit, and the loan of 
 the pony ! Now it would have been long enough 
 before the Joseph Willinghams thought of show- 
 ing us any such attention. She had been so 
 long accustomed to the saving line, that she 
 seemed even to grudge the poor creatures from 
 the village every stick they were allowed to 
 gather in the avenue ! As to ourselves, con- 
 sidering who she was J and what we are, I think 
 it was incumbent on her to be more considerate 
 and more respectful: but fine feathers make 
 fine birds; and since she so successfully em- 
 ployed hers in lining her nest, she has quite 
 forgotten you and me, Damham !" 
 
 ** Ay ! my dear ! and herself too. Now it 
 was only last Sunday three weeks that " 
 
 *' For my part," interrupted Mrs. D, who was 
 far from tolerant of any prolixity but her own, 
 *^ I do most sincerely hope that Lady Maria 
 will give an heir to the estate, and establish her- 
 self at Heddeston Court, if it be only to spite 
 Mrs. Joseph. Her Ladyship is so vastly con- 
 descending ! She lent me the pattern of Miss 
 Claudia's frock last week for my little Milicent ; 
 and she seldom comes here without going over 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 59 
 
 the poultry yard. I have no doubt I shall get 
 a brood of the Heddeston game-bantams before 
 the summer is over; and Mrs. Joseph, you 
 know, refused me, point blank, last year." 
 
 I know not whether the Destinies w^ere pro- 
 pitiated by the anxieties of Mrs. Darnham, or 
 by the secret invocations of the Lady Maria 
 herself; but before the close of the second year 
 of her settlement in Kent, its County Chronicle 
 announced, with becoming paragraphic honours, 
 that the family tree of Heddeston Court was 
 graced with fresh glory in the birth of a son ! 
 and all the preparation, expectation, and exulta- 
 tion which had long awaited the event, fell far 
 short of the universal triumph bestowed on its 
 realization. The bells of Heddeston Tower 
 were well nigh chimed to powder — the woods 
 of Heddeston Chase were all but reduced to 
 ashes by a mighty conflagration of bonfires ! 
 Torrents of ale that might have floated the 
 yacht club, poured their amber tides through 
 the clamorous village ; and its weekly dole was 
 daily repeated between Sabbath and Sabbath 
 for the space of a calendar month. As to Lady 
 Maria, she oppressed her agonized sister-in-law 
 
60 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 on the occasion with a martyrdom of prosperous 
 condescension ; and it was diverting to observe 
 the spasmodic twist of countenance which Mrs. 
 Joseph attempted to convert into a congratu- 
 latory smile, PS she bent over the cradle of an 
 heir apparent, as eagerly coveted as ever was a 
 Dauphin of France ! 
 
 Charles Willingham himself, although of the 
 family far the most interested in the event, re- 
 joiced with becoming moderation in his fortu- 
 nate paternity. He loved little Claudia and 
 Eleanor, in fact, as well or better than the little 
 fair white mass of human imbeciUty, displayed 
 by the head-nurse as his " princely boy ;" and 
 since he had been admitted by his whimsical 
 parent to share in the comforts of his brother^s 
 prosperity, he was neither anxious to provoke 
 liis envy, nor supersede his expectations. He 
 was good-naturedly fond of Joseph, and selfishly 
 satisfied to insure his daily companionship in 
 riding, driving, shooting, fishing, and hunting 
 over the estate. So long as Joseph and his wife 
 remained at Heddeston, he did not feel himself 
 a peremptoiy fixture at his father's tea-table; 
 or compelled to economize with the bailiff, ^or 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 61 
 
 prose with the steward. Leave him the legisla- 
 tion of the body corporate of game-keepers, and 
 the persecution and prosecution of all the poach- 
 ers throughout the property, and Charles cared 
 but little in whose hands the budget of the 
 financial department was deposited by his 
 father. 
 
 But of all the personages affected by this 
 important family catastrophe. Sir Claude was 
 at once the most elated and the most actively 
 malicious. It seemed impossible that he should 
 forgive Mrs. Joseph for having been the passive 
 means of disappointing the projects he had 
 formed for his favourite son ; and in good truth 
 he laboured to drug her cup of bitterness with 
 fourfold wormwood. He insisted upon leaning 
 on her arm in all his visits to the exulting Lady 
 Maria; upon consulting her taste in all his 
 presents to his auspicious grandson; and he 
 continually signified in her reluctant ears his 
 intention of making an immediate settlement in 
 favour of the female branches of Lady Maria's 
 offspring. He scarcely knew, he said, in what 
 more flattering manner to mark his esteem and 
 gr^atitude : and from that hour the little girls 
 
62 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 were peremptorily withdrawn from their elevated 
 solitude, and promoted from their companion- 
 ship with the solitary sparrow on the house- 
 top, to that of the stately peacocks spreading 
 their lavish glories among the beautiful lawns 
 of Heddeston Court. Their Lady mother, on 
 her re-descent into the saloon, found Claudia 
 established on grandpapa's knee, and Eleanor 
 busy with his spectacle case ; but she was pas- 
 sive under the innovation. She even began to 
 agree with worthy Mrs. Darnham, that they 
 were the prettiest little girls in the world, and 
 to forgive her husband's predilection in their 
 favour ; for they no longer marred the prospects 
 of her ambition ! 
 
 Meantime poor Mary Willingham, Mrs. 
 Joseph's unlucky babe, remained strictly exiled 
 to her own apartment. Lady Maria, with pro- 
 voking patronage, insisted that she should share 
 the favour and indulgence lavished upon her 
 own two graceful sprites. But it might not 
 be ! the malicious old man willingly tolerated 
 her admittance into their pleasures ; while, by 
 his sneers of comparison, he contrived to con- 
 vert the concession into a chastisement. 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 63 
 
 Mrs. Joseph's heart had long been bursting 
 with mortification. She saw that her own sun 
 had set for ever at the Court — that her hopes 
 of domestic rule were at an end — that she must 
 confine the future triumphs of her pride to her 
 own family ; where the parade of having mar- 
 ried a Baronet's son would still count for some- 
 thing. Poor thing ! she was left to the miser- 
 able consolation of her precedence over her 
 neighbours, Mesdames Darnham and Pilking- 
 ton, and of saying spiteful things to Lady 
 Maria whenever occasion offered. Nor in truth 
 washer fair sister-in-law slow at a rejoinder; 
 she was far better skilled to envelop her re- 
 torts in a provoking display of courtesy; but 
 they were not the less bitter nor the less biting. 
 Whenever this war of words occurred between 
 them — and it w^as generally after Sir Claude 
 had droned himself to sleep for the evening in 
 his easy chair — their respective husbands, like 
 the owners of two angry dogs, were fully occu- 
 pied in patting them into mutual submission. 
 Occasional growls or snarls from their several 
 retreats, would still give tokens of suppressed 
 ill-will ; tokens which were as constantly soothed 
 
64 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 by " Sophia ! pray recollect yourself ! " or 
 " Dearest Maria ! for my sake forbear !*' from 
 the appeasing lips of the perplexed brothers. 
 Sophia, indeed, appeared to be the only person 
 towards whom dearest Maria did not deem it 
 necessary, or find it her policy, to assume a 
 show of courtesy. In her presence she wore 
 all her failings with undisguised defiance — 
 snapt at her husband, scolded her children, 
 sneered at Sir Claude. She seemed determined 
 to mark her contempt, by an exhibition of her 
 utter indifference concerning Mrs. Joseph's opi- 
 nion. 
 
 So long as the balance of domestic power 
 remained in any degree suspended, this state 
 of things had endured, and might endure : but 
 from the moment that Sir Claude's partiality 
 threw an undue weight into the scale — from the 
 moment that victory, perched on his little grand- 
 son's cradle, decided in favour of Lady Maria, 
 the conflict was no longer to be borne. A few 
 weeks afterwards, as Charles Willingham and 
 his brother were riding home together from a 
 coursing meeting, Joseph unfolded his intended 
 removal to his Rectory. Much did he say of 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 65 
 
 the duties of his profession, which required his 
 stationary residence in the village: but that 
 sort of cant phraseology did not impose upon 
 the kind-hearted Charles, who had long sympa- 
 thized in his mortification. 
 
 " Duties of your profession ? And pray why 
 is Darnham a less efficient representative than 
 he was last year ? He understands the people 
 and their ways far better than you do ; and at 
 a distance of two miles, you are always within 
 reach of a consultation when difticulties arise. 
 No, no ! Joseph ! you really must not think of 
 leaving my father." 
 
 "You do not consider the solemn engage- 
 ments into which I have entered towards my 
 parishioners. The parish becomes more po- 
 pulous every year; and the farmers are be- 
 ginning to hint at something about a third 
 service; at which Darnham very reasonably 
 demurs." 
 
 " Well, then ; — increase his salary ; give him 
 the pasturage of the home field and the right 
 of common he has asked you for so often, and 
 the bargain will easily be made. I have a very 
 good opinion of Darnham. He got that thorn 
 
66 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 out of Don's foot, which puzzled us all so terribly 
 the first day of pheasant-shooting last year." 
 
 " But even were an arrangement effected — 
 and I really must consult my own interests first 
 in such a case — I consider it my duty " 
 
 *' Come, come, Joe ! — you know as well as I 
 do that all this sudden change of plan arises 
 solely from my father's slights to little Mary 
 and your wife ; which, I do assure you, vex me 
 at least as much as yourself. But you know 
 his whimsical temper; and it is just as likely 
 that next week he may take it into his head to 
 banish Nell and Claudia." 
 
 *' No, brother, no ! — not while i/ou have a 
 promising boy to become the head of the family. 
 To speak openly, however, it is our mutual 
 change of prospects which has influenced me 
 about removing to the Rectory. As long as our 
 chances were equal, my father being as you 
 observe so very whimsical, there was no saying 
 what his partiality might have induced him to 
 do about the entail." 
 
 *' Humph ! " muttered Charles, switching off 
 the head of a tall thistle in the hedge, to the 
 great discomfiture of his favourite mare. 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 67 
 
 " But now, you know, all that is over. My 
 father hates the sight of us ; and if we irritate 
 him by outstaying our welcome — why, we may 
 lose our chance of even the personalty, which 
 at present I consider as good as settled on us. 
 He signed his will the day before your arrival." 
 
 '* Humph ! " repeated Charles — sacrificing a 
 second aspiring weed to his resentment of his 
 brother's selfishness. 
 
 *' Now — as Sophia very sensibly says — if we 
 settle at the Rectory during my father's life- 
 time, he will be obliged, in common decency, 
 to do something for us in the way of furniture, 
 and plate, and all that; which will cost him 
 little, and be every thing to us : whereas, if we 
 wait until his death, all the Heddeston pro- 
 perty, which is heirloom — " 
 
 *' But with your living, and allowance, you 
 must makeup, even now, three thousand a year? " 
 
 " True ! but an increasing family ! " 
 
 ** Well ! well ! settle it in your own and your 
 wife's way," rejoined Charles Willingham, 
 somewhat nettled, as he turned his remem- 
 brances back upon Chiswick's moistened shades. 
 " Be assured, Joseph, that no brotherly affec- 
 
68 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 tion will be wanting on my part, to improve 
 your future situation." 
 
 " We think of removing in May ; for Sophia 
 vnW be confined sometime in August." 
 
 In May, accordingly, they did remove : in 
 August, Mrs. Joseph presented her husband with 
 a very superfluous son ; and poor peevish Sir 
 Claude, in the midst of his exultation at finding 
 his honourable name thus doubly armed against 
 extinction, caught cold in his very first visit of 
 inspection to the Rectory. With the assistance 
 of a physician or two, he contrived to aggravate 
 his disorder into danger; and before Joseph 
 and Sophia had found time to re-elevate their 
 drooping crests, or to form new projects about 
 the entail, a pompous achievement affixed over 
 the entrance of Heddeston Court, announced 
 the final defeat of their unreasonable expecta- 
 tions, and the accession of Sir Charles WiUing- 
 ham to his title and estates. 
 
 Happy Lady Maria ! How gratefully did she 
 attach herself to the active Dr. Dodderwell ! 
 How smilingly attire herself in a second suit of 
 filial sables ! 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 69 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Death having preyed upon the outward parts 
 Leaves them insensible ; his siege is now 
 Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds 
 With many legions of strange fantasies. 
 
 Shakspear«. 
 
 Sir Charles and Lady Maria Willingham had 
 now attained a very elevated point of human 
 prosperity. They were in the enjoyment of a 
 splendid income and an ancient title ; they pos- 
 sessed an almost baronial mansion in the very 
 garden of England ; and a house in Grosvenor- 
 place, which might have fairly tasked one of 
 George Robins's florescent advertisements to 
 describe its merits ; — Sir Charles had his hunters 
 and a seat in Parliament — Lady Maria her opera- 
 box and the family diamonds. The father la- 
 vished his tenderness upon two lovely little 
 girls — and the mother wasted her solicitudes 
 
70 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 upon the future heir of his house. Nor were 
 these manifold advantages derived under ordi- 
 nary circumstances of inheritance. By the special 
 favour of destiny, the WiUinghams had been 
 sentenced to attain their flowery Eden by a 
 brieiy path ; they had been seated in the lavish 
 lap of luxury by the admonitory hand of Penury 
 herself. 
 
 It has been said that Providence marks its 
 contempt of prosperity in the personages on 
 whom it showers the gifts of fortune ; but this is 
 a vulgar error. Prosperity is too important a 
 medium of human probation to be unwittingly 
 conferred; and Satan, "grown wiser/' quoth 
 Pope, " than in the days of Job," 
 
 Tempts more by making rich than making poor ! 
 
 Sir Charles and Lady Maria, although sinking 
 under the weight of wealth and station, were 
 the most discontented mortals in the world ! I 
 question whether their Chiswick murmurs had 
 ever risen to such a clamorous pitch as that 
 which marked their indignation on finding the 
 claim of the Joseph WiUinghams to all the 
 Bank stock, consols, long annuities, India bonds 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 71 
 
 (East and West), canal shares, and tontines, 
 standing in the name of the late Sir Claude — 
 an unimpeachable right ! Even Charles, who 
 was a liberal-minded man and a generous bro- 
 ther, confessed that he considered his father's 
 will an infamous document, reflecting equal 
 discredit upon the testator and his legatee. 
 
 " Sir Claude must have been well aware of 
 the nature of the entail," he observed to his 
 equally irritated wife. " He was therefore 
 perfectly acquainted with my incapability to 
 make the smallest settlement on my poor girls, 
 or to increase the dower of my wife beyond the 
 paltry pittance assigned centuries ago to the 
 Dowagers of theWillingham family. The rent- 
 roll makes a splendid show, to be sure ; but in 
 these days of agricultural distress, a rent-roll 
 is a piece of empty pomp, good only to decoy a 
 man into an expenditure beyond his means. 
 Heddeston Court, too, is so wretchedly out of 
 repair, that I must instantly take up money to 
 keep it from falling over our heads — and** 
 
 " Yes, yes : Joseph, with his views on the 
 personalty, knew better than to let a mason, or a 
 carpenter, or a plumber, come within sight of 
 
72 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 the house. I was persuaded, Charles, when he 
 insisted so strenuously on that fall of timber 
 last autumn, that your father's will had passed 
 through his hands, and that he was looking to 
 the land-steward's balance.'* 
 
 " Oh, he never made any secret of his expec- 
 tations ; and had he been content to leave me a 
 decent share of ready money, just to grease the 
 wheels of this crazy old machine of an estate and 
 keep us going, I should not have grudged my bro- 
 ther a becoming competence. However, he will 
 find my feelings strangely altered towards him 
 now; — if he thinks to play the Great Mogul at 
 Heddeston any longer, he is plaguily mistaken. 
 Terms of decent civility are all I wish to main- 
 tain with the Rectory. I dare say, now that I 
 am in Parliament, he will be applying for my in- 
 terest to advance his professional views. So 
 great and so rich a man as Joseph, will not care 
 to be addressed as anything less than Mr. 
 Dean:' 
 
 " Dear Sophia would be a precious article for 
 a Bishop's wife ! Turning up her ruffles to 
 carve the mutton, as if she were still at the head 
 of her father's academical table ! Your Par- 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 73 
 
 liamentary interest! — when you are literally 
 obliged to maintain it by hiring a house in town 
 at fifty per cent., which the least consideration 
 on your father's part, or moderation on Joseph's, 
 would have enabled you to make your own by 
 a trifling purchase. — No, no ! Mr. Joseph ; I 
 shall take care that our terms of civility with 
 the Rectory are as cool as your own conduct." 
 
 To do Lady Maria justice, she maintained 
 this declaration with unvarying consistency; 
 but Sir Charles, although he still continued to 
 grumble, could by no means coax his excellent 
 disposition into any thing like a malicious ran- 
 cour against his brother. He always contrived 
 to find his way to the Rectory twenty minutes 
 after his arrival at Heddeston; and although, 
 with the terror of his wife before his eyes, he 
 dared not openly convey to little Mary and little 
 Charles any London tokens of their uncle's affec- 
 tion, he took care that the Highflyer should be 
 put in requisition to deposit certain square brown 
 compact paper parcels in their nursery, bearing 
 the auspicious names of Edlin or of Izzard ! 
 
 In one respect, indeed, he seemed resolved to 
 disappoint his own anticipations ; he never per- 
 
 VOL. I. E 
 
74 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 mitted Joseph to make an application for his in- 
 terest with the powers that were ; and long before 
 the immortal Nash had withdrawn from the 
 modernized quadrangle of the Court the dapper 
 clerk of the works delegated to inspect the pro- 
 gress of its architectural degradation, Archdea- 
 con Willingham had found his way thither on 
 the old shooting pony — for his five thousand 
 a-year had afforded no addition to his stock — 
 to moralize over his brother's profligate expendi- 
 ture, and thank him for the unsolicited patron- 
 age which had already caused the Rectory to be 
 visited with the dignities of the church. 
 
 But Lady Maria, although in the undisturbed 
 possession of every luxury and joy of life which 
 might be supposed to mollify the human heart 
 towards its fellow creatures, was never known 
 to repress a single iota of the detestation she 
 had originally conceived against her sister-in- 
 law : the best of patriots never hated so cor- 
 dially as she did ! A very trifling share of mag- 
 nanimity, however, might have served to mode- 
 rate her malice ; for nature seemed to delight in 
 confirming her triumph over Mrs. Joseph, and 
 success should have secured her indulgence. 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 75 
 
 She saw her own daughters growing up into 
 tall, elegant, accomplished girls, while Mary 
 Willingham expanded into a gawkey, ungainly 
 being, bearing singular corroboration, in per- 
 sonal appearance, of her Bodham descent ; and 
 the young heir of the Court was not more dis- 
 tinguished by his beauty and graceful demeanour, 
 than was the unhappy Charles of the Rectory 
 by his sneaking air and contracted countenance 
 
 » 
 
 The cousins, indeed, were seldom together ; but 
 when occasionally brought into comparison, it 
 was " Hyperion to a satyr" in favour of the 
 youthful beauties of the elder branch. 
 
 Fortune at length appeared to grov/ disgusted 
 by the ungracious manner in which her benefits 
 were acknowledged, and to desert the altars on 
 which the incense of gratitude was so scantily 
 offered. Lady Maria, who was exceedingly 
 anxious for the birth of a second boy, became 
 the mother, a year after her husband's accession 
 to his title, to a third girl ; and her only conso- 
 lation under the disappointment was, that at the 
 same time a similar dispensation was inflicted 
 upon the Rectory. In truth, the grand motive 
 for her anxiety to produce a younger son, was 
 
 62 
 
70 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 to preclude the possibility of the rich living of 
 Heddeston descending to Joseph's representa- 
 tives. She vv^as a thorough Graspall ; and, like 
 Napoleon, w^ould scarcely have consented to be- 
 come King of England, unless she could have 
 been anointed Archbishop of Canterbury at the 
 same time. 
 
 Sir Charles was, as usual, provokingly patient 
 under the misfortune. He was satisfied that 
 his new daughter would grow up as lovely and 
 as intelligent as her sisters ; and, choosing to 
 fancy that she already bore a remarkable re- 
 semblance to her mother (whom, by a wonderful 
 stretch of the imagination, he firmly believed to 
 be the best of wives), he resolved that she should 
 be christened Maria. The appellatioiv was 
 soon found to be productive of family confusion ; 
 and, in defiance of her baptismal rights, the 
 youngest Miss Willingham was very soon en- 
 dowed with the pet name of Minnie. 
 
 The next disaster, however, which befel the 
 inmates of Heddeston Court, was of a far more 
 serious nature; for it affected the most amiable 
 member of the family, and the vital source of 
 its united prosperity. Sir Charles, who had not 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 77 
 
 been deterred, by his senatorial honours or by 
 his paternal gravity, from the indulgence of his 
 original predilection for field sports, and " the 
 credit of having a good horse in his stable," be- 
 came at length a martyr to his passion. In the 
 course of the autumn follov^^ing the birth of his 
 last daughter, a desperate fall in hunting sent 
 him home senseless on the shoulders of four of 
 his tenants ; and although, for a long time, the 
 Dodderwells of the country, and Sir Henrys 
 from town, simultaneously pronounced his reco- 
 very to be impossible, he v^^as reserved for a far 
 more terrible destiny — he became a cripple for 
 life ! — ^To a " hunter of the hills," lingering 
 years of sofas and inclined planes, liniments and 
 friction, vials and decoctions, form but a prolon- 
 gation of earthly torment ! 
 
 It was fortunate for the amiable Sir Charles 
 Willingham that the physical injury which pro- 
 duced this fatal effect upon his mortal frame 
 was of a description equally calculated to en- 
 feeble the mind. Extending its influence from 
 the spine to the intellectual organs, his disorder 
 finally reduced him to a state bordering on im- 
 becility; and thus he was spared the bitter 
 
78 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 mortification of seeing the adulatory attentions 
 of his beloved Maria transferred to his son and 
 heir ; and the affections of his favourite girls 
 bestowed upon that more efficient parent, who 
 had become the sole arbiter of their pleasures 
 and indulgences. But his powers of obser- 
 vation were materially weakened, and his taste 
 for conversation of a rational kind so much im- 
 paired, that — provided little Minnie were left to 
 spread her playthings beside his couch — he gave 
 but trifling heed to the negligence of the rest of 
 his family. It was a melancholy spectacle to 
 look upon a man in the prime of life thus mise- 
 rably reduced ; and the more so, because, in 
 spite of his excellent qualities and attaching cha- 
 racter, the selfishness of his nearest relatives 
 rendered them disgracefully indifferent about 
 the matter. Everything at Heddeston Court 
 went on as before ; the same parties were in- 
 vited, the same enjoyments prevailed. Lady 
 Maria alternately audited the accounts, and pre- 
 sided over the festivities of the scene : — it was a 
 bad example to show her son and heir ; a de- 
 testable school to open to her daughters ! 
 
 One of the few persons who cared to loiter in 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 79 
 
 the abandoned chamber of the gentle invalid, 
 was Joseph Willingham's awkward son, who 
 could not bring himself to forget the former 
 kindness and encouragement he had received 
 from his uncle ; and which he now requited with 
 such tokens of gratitude as a boy might offer — 
 with patient society, fruit and flowers from his 
 own garden, and a ready ministry to the whims 
 and fancies of the motionless sufferer. Poor 
 Sir Charles would lay his hand upon the urchin's 
 sandy head with a vague consciousness of plea- 
 sure in his presence ; and, next to little Minnie, 
 it is probable that he loved him better than any 
 thing in the world. 
 
 The young Claude, meanwhile, in all the in- 
 temperance of his youthful spirits, was destined 
 to become aware, in a most irksome degree, of 
 his rising importance in the family. The most 
 eminent medical counsellors of the metropolis 
 had decided that Sir Charles would remain for 
 many years secure in his present state of semi- 
 existence ; during which period, Lady Maria, as 
 guardian to the interests of her son, was fully 
 justified in assuming the helm of state. She 
 was well aware, however, that, should any dis- 
 
80 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 aster interpose to deprive the family tree of this 
 flourishing branch, the Archdeacon — I beg his 
 pardon, he was now a Dean — would naturally 
 assume the vigilance and authority of an heir pre- 
 sumptive : and Lady Maria, partial as she was, had 
 never properly appreciated the value of her son, 
 until such a contingency occurred to her mind. 
 
 From that hour the boy was doomed to a 
 life of misery and privation. He might not 
 ride, he might not bathe, he might not swing, he 
 might not eat, he might not drink, save accord- 
 ing to his mother's vigilant sanction ; and, inhe- 
 riting all his unlucky father's active propensities, 
 these restrictions became insupportable. Ac- 
 cording to Lady Maria's nervous admonitions, 
 waters were only made to drown, the earth to 
 dislocate, the air to refrigerate into hopeless 
 catarrhs. Food was a source of indigestion, 
 sleep of apoplexy ; there was no safety, save in 
 universal self-denial and self-seclusion; and 
 all the ills that flesh is heir to appeared, by her 
 account, to concentrate their hostility against 
 an eldest and an only son ! — 
 
 The grave did gape 
 For liim thrice wider than for other men. 
 
MOTHEHS AND DAUGHTERS. 81 
 
 His worthy uncle, the Dean, compassionating 
 her maternal solicitude, or perhaps anxious to 
 propitiate the future head of his house, was 
 moved to an extraordinary exertion of genero- 
 sity in favour of poor Claude. He actually 
 bestowed upon him the old original shooting 
 pony, which, in its foalhood, eighteen years 
 before, had been appropriated by his father to 
 his own use. " It was the steadiest old creature 
 in the world." 
 
 Lady Monteagle, who was now — thanks to 
 her daughter Margaret, and to Lady Maria's 
 friendly intervention in her cause — the grand- 
 mother of a young Stapylford, and consequently 
 somewhat versed in boyish sports and boyish 
 perils — forewarned her amiable neighbour that 
 the beast was lame, and that a stumbling pony 
 was as dano'erous as a restive horse. Mrs. Darn- 
 ham even suggested, that the Very Reverend 
 had his own ultimate views in the donation. 
 But in fact, Joseph Willingham, with his usual 
 explicit candour, had announced • the " whole 
 truth and nothing but the truth." " The pony," 
 said he, " is no longer strong enough to carry 
 me. I do not wish my son to contract a taste 
 
 E 3 
 
82 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 for the stable — and it is therefore useless at the 
 Rectory. Now at Heddeston Court, my dear 
 Lady Maria, it will have the run of the park, 
 and cost you little or nothing. And when it is 
 too old for any thing else, why it will do to carry 
 sand for the gardener." 
 
 King William the First, and King William 
 the Third, of English history, are recorded to 
 have been severally victims to stumbling horses ; 
 but another fate was reserved for young Claude 
 Willingham. His mother's injudicious mode of 
 training had not only redoubled his ardour for 
 all the perilous sports of boyhood, ^ut had 
 debarred him from that very experience which 
 might have diminished their dangers. He was 
 no less sanguine than imprudent, and as un- 
 skilled as his very sisters could have been to 
 enjoy the emancipation of a public school ; and 
 although by nature a vigorous, manly boy, he 
 unfortunately became the victim of foolish ma- 
 ternal terrors ! Before he had been two months 
 at Eton, an accident in a boating party con- 
 signed him to a watery grave ! — for Lady Maria 
 had never been prevailed on to sanction his 
 learning to swim ! 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 83 
 
 Poor woman ! Her heart was profoundly 
 touched by this first chastisement of her pride ! 
 Independently of his heirship, she loved her son 
 more than she had ever been tempted to love any 
 breathing mortal but herself ; and even old Lady 
 Monteagle, could she have witnessed her first 
 burst of maternal agony on the arrival of the 
 fatal express, would have refrained from the 
 selfish folly with which she exulted in her own 
 superior wisdom, and in the frequent warnings 
 she had bestowed upon her neighbour's injudi- 
 cious precautions. " She always saw me give 
 young Stapylford the run of the gamekeeper's 
 lodges, and the command of my stable; but 
 Lady Maria would take neither example nor 
 advice." 
 
 Sir Charles appeared, at first, to be spared 
 the worst consciousness of the loss he had sus- 
 tained ; for he listened to its announcement with 
 that vague smile of imbecility, so awful on the 
 countenance of a strong man in the prime of 
 life. But when little Minnie came weeping to 
 his arms in her black weeds, and when he saw 
 himself surrounded by his accustomed atten- 
 dants in their sable vesture, he gave a piteous 
 
84 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 half-infantine shriek, which seemed to mark a 
 sudden sensibiHty to the event. He asked no 
 questions, however, and uttered no further 
 lamentations. But he never held up his miser- 
 able head again ; and within a month after the 
 untimely death of his son, he was laid beside 
 him in the family vault of the Willinghams ! 
 
 If any thing could tend to increase the 
 wretchedness of a wife and a mother thus sud- 
 denly bereaved, that of Lady Maria might very 
 reasonably be aggravated by the knowledge that 
 her three daughters were unprovided for — that 
 she had nothing to expect from the liberality of 
 Sir Joseph — and that her own jointure did not 
 exceed twelve hundred a year ! Her immediate 
 anxiety was to quit the scene of her past glories 
 and present mortification. Claudia was nearly 
 thirteen, and Eleanor scarcely a year her junior. 
 Both might derive considerable advantage by 
 completing their education on the Continent; 
 and she felt that she should escape the spectacle 
 of Sophia's accession to the throne of Heddes- 
 ton, by a temporary residence abroad. Now 
 this proposition was a most unexpected relief to 
 the mind of Sir Joseph ; and partly moved bv 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 85 
 
 gratitude, and partly by some natural feelings of 
 regard towards his worthy brother's memoiy, he 
 actually proposed to take charge during her 
 absence of little Minnie, who was too young to 
 be a pleasant travelling companion ; and went 
 the still further length of presenting his three 
 nieces with a deed of annuity for a hundred 
 pounds per annum apiece ! Three hundred a year 
 was an immense concession from a man like 
 Joseph ! 
 
 All these favours were reluctantly but gra- 
 ciously accepted by the humbled Lady Maria. 
 Two months afterwards, she sailed for France 
 with her two beautiful girls, deeply intent upon 
 projects for their future aggrandizement; but 
 thinking little of the child she left behind, or 
 of the grave of that husband of her youth, who 
 had loved and valued her so much beyond her 
 deserts. 
 
S6 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 EUe n'aime ni sa patrie, ni ses enfans, ni ceux qui lui ont 
 donne le jour ; elle ne connoit d'autre parente que la fortune. 
 
 Caractcres de Dion Chrysostome, 
 
 It is astonishing with what facihty selfish 
 people can transfer such affections as they have 
 to bestow, to the objects best calculated to 
 advance their interests and favour their views, 
 I have already acknowledged that, for twelve 
 long years, Lady Maria Willingham had main- 
 tained an extraordinary insensibility towards 
 her daughters ; and that, without reference to 
 their prior claim upon her maternal tenderness, 
 she had remained indifferent to the expansion of 
 Claudia's surpassing loveliness, and Eleanor's 
 brilliant abilities. But scarcely had the grave 
 closed upon her noble boy — upon the mainspring 
 of all her hopes, and all her ambition — when the 
 word " connexion," whispered in her ear by 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 87 
 
 old Lady Monteagle in the course of her first 
 neighbourly visit of condolence, produced a 
 singular revolution in the worldly mind of the 
 calculating mother. 
 
 " I trust to your prudence, my dear Lady 
 Maria," the sagacious Dowager had observed, 
 *' not to remain abroad too long. In four years 
 your eldest girl will be presentable ; and with 
 her beauty, and the accomplishments she will 
 acquire in her residence abroad, think what 
 a connexion she may form in England — think 
 what an advantage her early marriage may 
 prove to the rest of her family.'' 
 
 It was Lady Maria's vidual cue to be silent 
 
 and pensive; and howbeit she listened with 
 
 startled consciousness, she continued to shake 
 
 her well-frilled head, and to fix her downcast 
 gaze upon her own weepers. 
 
 " For the sake of your helpless children, my 
 dear friend," resumed Lady Monteagle, " you 
 must learn to moderate your amiable sensibility, 
 and to exert yourself. When I lost poor dear 
 Lord M. — it is full thirty years ago, but I re- 
 member it as well as yesterday — I got into a 
 sad, moping, nervous way ; and my family phy- 
 
88 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 sician, who saw the disadvantage it must be to 
 four grown up daughters to have the spectacle 
 of my hypochondriacism always before their 
 eyes, ordered me to Bath, and prescribed a pint 
 of mulled claret every evening before going to 
 bed. My recovery was miraculous." 
 
 " Oh ! my dear Lady Monteagle ! you have 
 never knovni what it is to be driven like an out- 
 cast from the scene of all your wedded happi- 
 ness. Heaven knows that, with my children's 
 society, a cottage and competence is all I re- 
 quire; but to forsake the spot where I have 
 enjoyed the perfection of worldly felicity — where 
 — where — " a white pocket-handkerchief, well 
 applied, superseded a w^orld of eloquence. 
 
 " Nay,»my dearest Lady Maria — my excel- 
 lent friend," remonstrated the Dow^ager, laying 
 a skinny grasp upon her arm, " I cannot allow 
 you to indulge in these fruitless reminiscences. 
 It is true that your present trial is deeply afflict- 
 ino" — she thought of her own comfortable joint- 
 ure and comfortable dower-house, as she spoke 
 — " but you must look forward to better times. 
 What would have been your feelings, had you 
 been left with three or four unprovided younger 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 89 
 
 sons hanging upon you, instead of those lovely- 
 girls? — I consider a handsome daughter as a 
 sort of provision for the rest of her family." 
 
 " Alas ! my dear friend, you have such a 
 sanguine, active mind ! — such a masculine un- 
 derstanding ! — ^while I ! — " 
 
 " You must rally yourself, and assume the 
 fortitude becoming your position. Why now, 
 just look at my Margaret; she was nothing 
 compared with your girls, and see what a match 
 she has made ! She is at the head of London 
 society — quite a leader of fashion — a first-rate 
 establishment in town, and a palace you know 
 in Northamptonshire. My girls had not a 
 shilling ; they had nothing but birth, and the 
 devil's beauty — youth ; but before Margaret had 
 been married a year she managed to get off her 
 eldest sister, who had forfeited even that claim 
 to admiration — persuaded poor old gouty Sir 
 Cecil Dynevour that she was the best manager 
 in the world ; and Marian is now a widow with 
 twelve thousand a year at her own disposal. 
 The other two girls, to be sure, have hung on 
 hand ; but as far as / am concerned they are as 
 good as settled. Lady Stapylford has only that 
 
90 MOTHEHS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 one wild boy to occupy her attention; and when- 
 ever her Lord goes to Paris — which is pretty 
 often — or forms a shooting-party on his fenny 
 Cambridgeshire estates, Margaret has her sisters 
 to keep her company daring his absence. The 
 rest of the year they usually make out with 
 Lady Dynevour. Since my first daughter made 
 so excellent a connexion,- I do assure you that 
 I have never once found myself obliged to pass 
 a season in town at my own expense ; and I pre- 
 dict that a day will soon come when yozt will find 
 yourself profiting by the same advantages." 
 
 '^ Excellent connexion — good match — hang 
 on hand — get off — make out — devil's beauty — 
 leader of ton — jointure and settlements." Clau- 
 dia and Eleanor Willingham, who had been 
 loitering unperceived over an embroidering frame 
 at the other end of the room, were considerably 
 puzzled by these mysterious phrases. Neither 
 the recollected precepts of their discarded gover- 
 ness, nor the folio edition of Johnson's Dic- 
 tionary — to which they speedily applied for en- 
 lightenment — tended to develop the enigma. 
 They little imagined the long apprenticeship 
 they were about to serve to the horrible calling, 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 91 
 
 of which these words may be regarded as the 
 initiatory cabala; they little suspected that 
 their future destiny was comprehended in the 
 rapid impression produced on the mind of their 
 mother by Lady Monteagle's seemingly incom- 
 prehensible harangue. When she rang for her 
 carriage, they simply but silently hailed her 
 departure as a relief from a bore ; they knew 
 not to what future bitterness of heart they had 
 been devoted by her prospective counsels. For 
 the present, indeed, they felt only grateful to 
 her for her friendly promises ; for she had un 
 dertaken to keep an inquisitorial eye upon little 
 Minnie's position in the household of her uncle, 
 and to report progress in a close correspondence. 
 They loved their sister dearly ; — every one loved 
 Minnie ! (except her mother.) But she was only 
 five years old — was already extremely attached 
 to her cousins Charles and Mary; and they 
 felt that she would probably be happier, and 
 certainly far better off by remaining in her 
 early home, with her own nurse, and pets, and 
 garden to amuse her, than by rambling over 
 France and Italy in search of economy and 
 education with the rest of the family. 
 
92 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 With this impression on their minds, the 
 adieus of the elder sisters were as httle tinc- 
 tured with pain or apprehension as those of 
 Minnie herself; who found in their promise of 
 a speedy return all the consolation her little 
 heart required for its first transient tears. Suc- 
 ceeding days, and weeks, and months fortu- 
 nately tended to confirm their flattering antici- 
 pations of her welfare : eveiy letter which reached 
 the travellers from the county of Kent — includ- 
 ing the tall straight formal Italian specimen of 
 Dowager penmanship, which emanated from 
 Monteagle Park — the diffuse and minute epis- 
 tles in which Sir Joseph set forth his proceed- 
 ings towards his niece, his estate, and the world 
 in general — and the well-sprawled sheet of fools- 
 cap over which the good-natured hand of Charles 
 Willingham was wont to guide that of his little 
 cousin into sundry details respecting nurse Wor- 
 ley's rheumatism, and her own favourite dor- 
 mice — bore witness to Minnie^s happiness, and 
 to the kindness of her uncle and aunt. 
 
 With Lady Willingham — for Miss Bodham 
 had now progressed into that sublime supre- 
 macy — this kindness was at present exhibited 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 93 
 
 in a passive form. She was at present equally 
 debarred from interfering with Minnie's plea- 
 sures, and from enjoying those which her new 
 dignities might have been supposed to heap 
 upon her head. The daughter whose birth 
 had been coeval with that of Lady Maria's last 
 rejected pledge, proved to be a most unfortunate 
 object; miserably deformed, and scarcely less 
 deficient in the powers of the mind than of the 
 body. Yet such is the merciful influence of 
 nature upon a mother's heart, that all the 
 maternal solicitudes of Lady Willingham ap- 
 peared concentrated in her tender watchfulness 
 over this helpless little being. She had wisely 
 counselled her husband to give up the lease of 
 that splendid mansion in Grosvenor Place, which 
 she regarded as an unappeasable Mammoth 
 that had swallowed up what ought to have been 
 appropriated to savings for daughters' portions 
 by his predecessor. 
 
 But the advantages of London medical advice 
 soon prompted her to suggest the purchase of ano- 
 ther. The first time that the mighty family wag- 
 gon — on whose frontal the christian name of Jo- 
 seph had been freshly interposed instead of that of 
 
94 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 Charles, between Sir and Willinghamy Bart. — 
 rumbled with its well-hayed burden along the 
 London road, its unwieldy progress originated no 
 longer in Parliamentary duties, orin projects of fri- 
 volous pleasure. Lady Willingham would have 
 cared little for the London season, had it not af- 
 forded her an opportunity of placing her little 
 afflicted child in the hands of one of those bar- 
 barous charlatans, who do not hesitate to affix 
 their torturing irons upon limbs already wasted 
 by the approach of death ; or to promise " the 
 benefits of their system" to a frame on which 
 the work of mortal decomposition is already 
 half begun. A sanguine mother is easily de- 
 luded by promises so specious; and any one 
 who had looked upon Sophia's eager counte- 
 nance as it became irradiated by the flattering 
 declarations of the impostor, would have in- 
 stantly forgiven her all her vulgarity and all her 
 meanness. A good and tender mother is a 
 glorious being. Yes ! the ex-Bodham was 
 worth fifty Lady Marias ! 
 
 It was probably to her cotemporaneous s>ym- 
 pathy with the dying child, that Minnie was 
 principally indebted for her aunt's extraordinary 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 95 
 
 partiality and indulgence. I have said, indeed, 
 that every body loved her : she was one of those 
 buoyant, joyous beings whose presence — like the 
 irradiation of a living sunbeam — confers an in- 
 definite consciousness of pleasure ; whose smile 
 and voice and endearments find an unerring 
 way to the heart. She was lovely, it is true, 
 and graceful and intelligent as a child might 
 be ; but it was neither her beauty, grace, nor 
 talent which wrought the spell ; it was all these, 
 combined with an utter guilelessness of soul — 
 with a total absence of that selfishness which 
 so often deteriorates the caresses of childhood. 
 But she had still another and a surpassing 
 charm in the eyes of Lady Willingham. Ac- 
 customed, through her infant companionship 
 with her own father, to the sight of physical 
 misfortune, and to the task of soothing its irri- 
 tations, her little gladsome footsteps became 
 insensibly moderated u^ she approached the 
 sick chamber of her cousin, and her little voice 
 hushed into the gentleness becoming its stag- 
 nant atmosphere. She would devise a thousand 
 inventions for the amusement of the invalid, or 
 fiit for hours in watchful tranquillity beside her 
 
96 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 couch, while the mother permitted herself to 
 snatch some hasty interval of repose or refresh- 
 ment ; and of all the persons ministering to her 
 aid or comfort, it was Minnie alone whom the 
 sufferer appeared to recognize with grateful 
 pleasure. 
 
 Mary Willingham, the elder daughter, was a 
 personage wholly incapable of these kindly de- 
 monstrations. She was a girl of singular en- 
 dowments, of a reflective turn of mind, of strong 
 principles and excellent disposition; but her 
 faults were those of undeniable inheritance. 
 She was demure — calm even to apparent insen- 
 sibility — and reserved beyond the sanguine 
 prompting of her girlish years. Sharing the 
 general predilection in favour of the adopted 
 inmate of her father's house, she had eagerly be- 
 stowed her protection and solicitude and instruc- 
 tion upon little Minnie ; — but without endear- 
 ing the gift by a single fond expression. She 
 would have considered such an indulgence of 
 her feelings as indelicate and unbecoming. She 
 was, in short, a formal, matter-of-fact kind of 
 girl; fulfilling the duties of her education — 
 reverencing her parents, and obeying her 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 97 
 
 governess; but beyond this automatous mode 
 of existence, she did not appear to cherish a 
 single natural impulse. 
 
 Her brother Charles, the heir expectant to all 
 the dignities of Heddeston — dignities which, 
 under the present dynasty, were reinforced by 
 the command of considerable monied indepen- 
 dence — appeared to be only a refrigerated edition 
 of his impassive sister. In a boy, too, this de- 
 fect of feeling — this moral ossification of the 
 heart — showed with thrice double deformity; 
 it amounted to an air of sullen selfishness : and 
 the apparent indiflference with which both the 
 one and the other withheld their participation 
 from Lady Willingham's anxious exertions in 
 favour of her crippled child, was pretty gene- 
 rally attributed to a mean jealousy of her mater- 
 nal partiality. Mrs. Darnham even went so far 
 as to insinuate to her confidantes of the neigh- 
 bourhood, that Mr. Charles's unusual devotion 
 to his little cousin, arose from an amiable desire 
 to pique and retaliate upon the absurd predilec- 
 tion of his mother. 
 
 At length, as might have been reasonably de- 
 sired by all parties, the afflicted child was re- 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
98 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS 
 
 leased from its mortal thraldom ; and Mary and 
 Charles addressed themselves to the task of 
 soothing Lady Willingham's grief with amiable 
 and unostentatious, but ill-directed sympathy. 
 Sir Joseph made divers prolonged harangues to 
 his family upon the duty of submitting, vdthout 
 a murmur, to the dispensations of Providence, 
 which might have suited the birth of the little 
 cripple better than its decease ; with every other 
 possible variation of common-place, peculiar to 
 this species of domestic calamity. He assured 
 them that he felt the loss of his daughter to be 
 a sort of counterbalance to the prosperity of his 
 worldly affairs ; and having assembled all the 
 domestics of the family, he favoured them with 
 a long and pertinent address upon the brevity 
 and uncertainty of human existence. As Sir 
 Joseph uttered his moralities in a serious and 
 measured voice, and was attired in a customary 
 suit of solemn black, even the foolish, fat scul- 
 lion herself regarded it as subordinate and duti- 
 ful to melt into tears. But certain of the grey- 
 headed coadjutors of Dickinson and Co. could 
 by no means persuade themselves to take warn- 
 ing by the premature fate of their master's un- 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 99 
 
 fortunate babe ; and many of the matrons of 
 the family secretly determined that the brevity 
 of human existence could not have been more 
 satisfactorily exemplified than on the present 
 occasion. 
 
 His son and daughter endured his prolixity 
 with their usual respectful submission ; and 
 Lady Willingham, long accustomed to his dif- 
 fuse platitudes, refrained not from her tears at 
 the instigation of Sir Joseph's homily. But 
 little Minnie did much towards her consolation. 
 She would sit with her, book on knee, in silent 
 companionship within the lonely chamber en- 
 deared by so many mournful remembrances ; or 
 stroll out with her, hand in hand, towards Hed- 
 deston church, the sight of which refreshed with 
 renewed tears the memory of her child. 
 
 Nor did the lapse of years weaken or destroy 
 this intimate association ; she still remained in 
 Lady Willingham's eyes a living memento of 
 what little Sophia could, or should, or might have 
 become ; and although, as Mary slowly outgrew 
 the authority of the governess, her little cousin 
 was duly consigned to the place she had vacated, 
 Minnie Willingham remained the especial dar- 
 
 f2 
 
100 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 ling and protegee of her aunt. Her own daugh- 
 ter was seventeen, and Charles had already risen 
 to some eminence at Eton ; yet neither of them 
 had proved or exhibited one moment's envy of 
 the favour bestowed upon their cousin. 
 
 From Lady Maria, meanwhile, the most satis- 
 factoiy letters were periodically received ; and 
 nothing could be more plausibly devised than 
 the motives suggested for the prolongation of 
 her residence on the Continent. Financial fore- 
 sight — an anxiety to accomplish her daughters 
 under the hands of the first masters at an incon- 
 siderable cost — a desire, by present economy, to 
 render their future debut in England more bril- 
 liant than her available means might command — 
 induced her, she wrote, to forego the company 
 of her beloved little Maria, and to trespass thus 
 unreasonably upon the hospitality of Heddeston 
 Court in her favour. She depicted herself as a 
 martyr to maternal duty ; as renouncing her be- 
 loved country, the society of her nearest relatives, 
 the sight of a spot associated with hallowed 
 reminiscences of conjugal happiness, for the sake 
 of her elder girls ; pathetically lamenting, at the 
 same time, that her nan'ow income debarred her 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 101 
 
 from the valued privilege of bestowing upon 
 them that solid English education, those excel- 
 lent principles — instilled and actively exempli- 
 fied — of rigid English morality, which so well 
 become, and so powerfully sustain, the domestic 
 firesides of our own happy island ! " 
 
 Sir Joseph, from a fellow-feeling, warmly ap- 
 plauded this well-worn clap-trap. But Lady 
 Willingham, naturally lynx-eyed, and sharpened 
 into fierce acuteness by feelings of rivalry and 
 personal aversion, permitted herself to compare 
 the tendency of these pathetic Jeremiades, with 
 a more natural statement of the case as it flowed 
 from the undesigning pens of Claudia and 
 Eleanor, in their letters to their little sister and 
 their cousin Mary. 
 
 On their first arrival at Paris, these letters, 
 indited in a flowing English hand, and with an 
 exuberance of girlish spirits, set forth nothing 
 but their ecstasies at the enchanting novelties 
 by which they were surrounded ; and it might 
 plainly be discerned that Lady Maria, despite 
 her widow's weeds of only six months' standing, 
 by no means suffered either herself or her 
 daughters to be overwhelmed with the mono- 
 
102 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS, 
 
 tony of woe. She was either unconscious of, 
 or indifferent to, the strict formalities observed 
 on such occasions in France; where it is es- 
 teemed a violation of all decorum for a person 
 in family mourning to be seen at any public 
 place. 
 
 By degrees, the flowing caligraphy of English 
 penmanship became cramped with the perpen- 
 dicularity, and curly-tailed z, and s, and r, of 
 the minute handwriting of France; while the 
 style it served to convey — began to expand into 
 that luxuriant fervency of address which charac- 
 terizes the epistolary correspondence of our ar- 
 dent neighbours. In another year, it grew de- 
 formed with Gallicisms ; in another, it found its 
 way into downright French ; and, in the course 
 of a fourth, their residence of a few months in 
 Italy enabled both Claudia and her sister to 
 aflect something of a polyglot text. 
 
 Still their letters remained extremely amusing, 
 and lively, and natural. It was clear that in spite 
 of the toils of their education — in spite of the 
 music, singing, painting, and Babel-like confu- 
 sion of tongues of which they complained as a 
 daily infliction — they were made the constant 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 103 
 
 companions and excuse of all their mother's dissi- 
 pation. Thirty thousand francs per annum form 
 a respectable income on the Continent ; and dur- 
 ing a season at Florence, and two winters at 
 Naples, Lady Maria found herself enabled to 
 maintain both an equipage and a table, after the 
 fashion of the place. During the Carnival, they 
 spoke of their gaieties as unceasing. At one 
 time there was a masked ball, from which the 
 English Ambassadress would not hear of their 
 absence ; at another, their Mamma had been 
 prevailed on to let them fill some juvenile parts 
 in amateur theatricals. Their Parisian expe- 
 rience was of such high account in proverbes, 
 charades, and tableaux, that on such occasions 
 they could not be spared. In short, upon some 
 plea or other, they appeared to have found their 
 way into society at an age when the nursery or 
 the school-room should have been the shelter of 
 their inexperience ; and they anticipated being 
 presented and " coming out " in England, while 
 it was evident that for some time past they had 
 never been in. 
 
 At length, the long-appointed period arrived ! 
 Claudia, who was now eighteen, and who had 
 
104 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 conditioned that her sister should make her first 
 appearance in London the same season with her- 
 self, wrote to announce their immediate arrival. 
 A house was taken for them in a third-rate situa- 
 tion, such as Lady Maria's hmited income might 
 justify; and Minnie, who had accompanied her 
 uncle and aunt to their own formal mansion in 
 Grosvenor-square, to await the event, had at 
 length the gratification of a picturesque em- 
 brace from her long absent mother, and a thou- 
 sand fervent and tearful caresses from her two 
 lovely sisters. 
 
 Lady Willingham w^as duly and appropriately 
 thanked ; Mary was presented with her set of 
 Roman mosaic and Neapolitan coral ; and Sir 
 Joseph's hand was affectionately squeezed by 
 the grateful Lady Maria. As she looked round, 
 however, upon the humble comforts of an abode 
 which the recent habitation of an Italian palace 
 and a Parisian hotel endowed with a somewhat 
 homely air, she could not but think that her 
 brother-in-law might have seized on so auspi- 
 cious an occasion as that of the entrte of his 
 nieces into society, to expand into something of 
 a more liberal vein. It would have been so easy 
 
JMOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 105 
 
 for him to engage, on his own account, a house 
 for the season more becomino; to the name of 
 Willingham, and more advantageous to the 
 views of the fair debutantes. There is nothing 
 so injudicious as to fight in a matrimonial skir- 
 mish under ensigns of poverty. 
 
 I' 3 
 
106 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS, 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 What are these wondrous civilizing arts— 
 
 This Roman polish ? ^ 
 
 Addison. '. 
 
 "Well, dear Mamma ? " exclaimed Claudia 
 to Lady Maria, having elevated her glass to take 
 a deliberate survey of the apartments, imme- 
 diately on the departure of Sir Joseph and his 
 family. 
 
 " Well, my dear girls ! can you conceive any 
 thing more mortifyingly beggarly than the whole 
 affair?'' 
 
 "And this," obseiTed Eleanor, drawing her 
 chair towards the fire-place, and establishing 
 her feet after a fashion which might have evoked 
 the shade of her grandsire from the Heddeston 
 vault — " And this is the sea-coal fire — the com- 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 107 
 
 fortahle chimney-corner — for which I have so 
 often heard you sigh in Italy ! — These are the 
 snug rooms I have heard you regret! — This 
 blanket of dingy woollen is the capital carpet, 
 the remembrance of which rendered our clean 
 and well-waxed parquets insupportable ! I wish 
 you joy, dear Mamma, of your inauguration 
 among all these blessings ; but not without feel- 
 ing some little surprise at the preference." 
 
 " Oh ! you must not compare the attractions 
 of dirty London lodgings with those of our ex- 
 cellent mansion in Grosvenor-place, or with the 
 comforts of Heddeston. All this I acknowledge 
 to be detestable ; and did I imagine, my dear 
 girls, that you were likely to find your permanent 
 homes of the same degraded and miserable cha- 
 racter, I should not hesitate to fly back to Paris 
 with greater speed than that which brought us 
 hither. Mediocrity in England is a worse than 
 insupportable destiny; and the luxuries assigned 
 to poverty itself on the Continent, offer a far 
 preferable alternative. But believe me also, 
 that there exists no station in life, from one end 
 of Europe to the other, which will bear compari- 
 son with the splendour and refinement of the 
 
108 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 highest class of English society; — in which, 
 before long, I trust to see you both advan- 
 tageously placed.'* 
 
 " I fear you are too sanguine. At Paris and 
 in Naples, success in society is far more easily 
 attained than I can believe it to be in this wide 
 wilderness of London, where there are so many 
 formidable competitors." 
 
 " My dear Eleanor ! — every thing will depend 
 upon yourselves. With a little management on 
 your parts, and vigilance on mine, there is every 
 probability that you will both make excellent 
 matches. Your connexions on both sides are 
 excellent; — you have just as much beauty and 
 accomplishment as is requisite for attraction ; — 
 the English connexions and friendships you 
 have formed abroad are all in your favour ; — and 
 you have been preceded here by the reputation 
 of having refused several good matches in Italy." 
 
 " Thanks to your generalship. Mamma ! — I 
 am convinced that both the Duca di Alcastora, 
 and Claudia's Piedmontese Prince, were satis- 
 fied by your style of living that we had very 
 tolerable fortunes ; and that, on their enlighten- 
 ment, the preliminaries of either marriage would 
 
.MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 109 
 
 not have proceeded far. On the profit-and-loss- 
 alliance-system of the Continent, we could never, 
 in fact, have formed even a respectable con- 
 nexion among foreigners." 
 
 " A principal motive for my return to England 
 — ^the only European land of disinterested love ! 
 In France you must have expected, at best, to 
 be chosen by vv^ay of * mmagtres* — to inspect the 
 lessive and cori/itures.'^ 
 
 " I really feel at present," observed the indo- 
 lent Claudia, looking round the dingy and 
 dismantled chamber, " as if I should prefer the 
 lessive, and all its domestic accompaniments of 
 joyous gaiety, to the atmosphere of this desolate 
 England. I am positively chilled into a moral 
 ague." 
 
 " Patience ! my dear child ! patience ! — To- 
 morrow every thing will wear a different aspect. 
 A few flowers placed about the room will enliven 
 it beyond your recognition ; then we can strew 
 all these unmeaning tables with your ttrermes of 
 the year — with our new caricatures — and a 
 few Neapolitan novelties, which will attract the 
 gaping curiosity of our visitors — and will serve, 
 like a showy domino on an ugly woman, to dis- 
 
110 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 guise the nakedness of the land. Oh ! it will all 
 do veiy well in a day or two ; — before I send 
 round my cards, and sound my tocsin to the 
 little circle of exclusive fashion by which I intend 
 to surround myself, all will go well/' 
 
 '^ Don't you think Minnie is growing very 
 pretty. Mamma ? " inquired Claudia with a 
 yawn. 
 
 " You must remember, my dear, that you saw 
 her in contrast with Mary Willingham ; who 
 remains, as she ever was, a flagrant instance of 
 the awkwardness of "nature's journeymen." 
 When Minnie is once settled at home, depend 
 on it, we shall find her full of awkward Missish- 
 ness : she only looked pretty to-nigh t> because 
 she was flushed and animated by our arrival." 
 
 " Oh ! pardon me ! " interrupted Eleanor. 
 "Her features are extremely delicate, and her 
 figure slight, and well-turned, and graceful. I 
 was most agreeably surprised; and could not 
 refrain from expressing the feeling to Mary, who 
 replied that she was the most interesting little 
 girl in the world. I almost forgave her own 
 awkwardness, she seemed so unaflfectedly fond 
 of poor Minnie." 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS, 111 
 
 " I detest interesting little girls ! " exclaimed 
 Lady Maria pettishly ; " and I am only too sure 
 that we shall find her miserably de trop in our 
 arrangements ; for she is too old to be left with 
 the servants, and I cannot afford a governess. 
 However, even if theWillinghams were inclined 
 to keep her — which evidently they are not — 
 it would have a very strange appearance were I 
 to leave her longer in their hands. Therefore, 
 all things considered, I think I shall look out 
 for a school on a limited scale, where I can 
 send her to be safe, and out of the way." 
 
 Poor Minnie ! And it was to the return of 
 relations such as these she had looked with 
 such confiding affection ; — it v/as of the caresses 
 of this calculating mother, of these critical sis- 
 ters, she had been dreaming for months, and 
 only waking to anticipations of a yet more 
 fervent reality. — Poor little Minnie ! — Her dis- 
 appointment was great indeed ; and when she 
 returned home from her first chilling interview 
 with her nearest relations, her sleepless pillow — - 
 and seldom is the pillow of childhood sleep- 
 less — was visited by sore misgivings for the 
 future, by many self-rebukings for the ingrati- 
 
112 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 tude which had hitherto withheld her unquaUfied 
 affection from those, under whose fosterhood 
 her recent years had passed so happily, so 
 fearlessly away. She had scarcely allowed her 
 little heart to indulge, to the full extent of its 
 wishes, her love for Charles and Mary, her 
 gratitude towards Sir Joseph and her aunt. She 
 had checked herself repeatedly by those watch- 
 words of duty, "My own mother — my own 
 sisters ; " and now, when she found that mother 
 and those sisters so moderately inclined to 
 sanction her eager claims, she could no longer 
 venture to bestow her rejected affections upon 
 the objects from whom she had previously 
 laboured to estrange the gift. 
 
 Minnie was. only fourteen years old, and was by 
 no means endowed with a precocity of worldly 
 wisdom; but she had sense and sensibility enough 
 to regard with terror her approaching removal 
 from a home wherein she had been so long and so 
 indulgently domesticated. She had too just and 
 too amiable a sense of things to interrogate 
 Charles and Mary — on all other occasions her 
 oracles and bosom counsellors — touching their 
 opinion of the conduct of her ovrn family, or 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 113 
 
 her prospects of happiness ; she was fully con- 
 scious that the topic should remain sacred to 
 her hps and ears. 
 
 A single week, passed in Seymour-street, 
 served but to confirm Minnie Willingham's ap- 
 prehensions and painful recoil upon herself. 
 She experienced the daily and vexatious trial of 
 hearing the friends she so tenderly esteemed, 
 and who had in fact so worthily won the grati- 
 tude of her heart, held up to the most unspar- 
 ino; ridicule. Her sister Eleanor was an ad- 
 mirable mimic; and her delineations of Lady 
 Willingham's prim self-concentration, of Sir 
 Joseph's diffuse and common-place prose, ap- 
 peared to form the sole amusement of their dull 
 family re-union. Even this, Minnie might 
 have taught herself to endure; but when she 
 saw Mary — her dear and indulgent cousin 
 Mary — ^pomtrayed with all the twitchings of 
 her habitual nervousness, with the miraculously 
 awkward gait which her timidity assumed be- 
 fore strangers, and with the blush and strug- 
 gling speech which had prefaced her replies to 
 the invidious questions of her cousins — she 
 could not repress her honest indignation. It 
 
114 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 was in vain, however, that she put forth a claim 
 to forbearance, in Mary's affectionate protection 
 of herself; it was in vain she urged against 
 their satires that Mary, in spite of her gaucherie, 
 was in truth remarkably accomplished and well- 
 infoimed. 
 
 " II se pent qu^elle ne manque pas (TinstntC' 
 tioriy^ replied Eleanor ; " but the word accom- 
 plishment embraces a wide field; and I tell 
 you the poor girl is a mere savage. I have no 
 doubt she has been brought up according to 
 the most approved system of the Bodhamites ; 
 but I tell you she is a savage." 
 
 " Mary has had the best masters in London, 
 for several years past. She is a scientific musi- 
 cian, paints in oils, is mistress of French and 
 
 German " 
 
 "All which tends to justify my declaration — 
 that she is a savao^e ! Science in amateur music 
 is decidedly barbarous ; oil-painting is an un- 
 seemly and impertinent pretension on the part 
 of a' female artist ; and as to her qualifications 
 as a linguist, 
 
 She speaks the French of Stratford school, by Bow— 
 The French of Paris she did never know , 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 115 
 
 and a woman of fashion might as well talk 
 Iroquois as German. Yes, Mary Willingham 
 is decidedly, and upon the most approved prin- 
 ciples — a savage. 
 
 " Poor cousin Maiy ! had she passed a year 
 or two in the land where poodles are taught to 
 dance, and cooks and hair-dressers are termed 
 artists, no doubt she would have a better title 
 to your approbation," cried Minnie, stung to 
 the quick by the malicious comments of her 
 sisters. But this imprudent sally sealed her 
 own destiny. Lady Maria affected to be 
 shocked by her flippancy and insubordination ; 
 and within a week, the seminaiy " on a limited 
 scale" was hastily selected; Minnie and her 
 trunks were securely deposited there as animate 
 and inanimate lumber, which might very well 
 be spared from Seymour-street ; while her mo- 
 ther and sisters began to enjoy, unmolested, 
 their own witty enmity against her former bene- 
 factors. 
 
 Lady Willingham, meanwhile, was particu- 
 larly gratified by this apparent alteration in her 
 young protegee's destiny. Despite the icy list- 
 lessness of her middle age, she was not an un- 
 
 <»,; 
 
 £ 
 
116 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 observant woman ; prosperity and adversity had 
 equally tended to soften her heart; the bril- 
 liancy of her position in life had served to ex- 
 pand the original narrowness of her mind ; the 
 faults of her youthful temper were somewhat 
 moderated, and she had already detected so 
 much that was mischievous in the character of 
 her sister-in-law, so much that was objection- 
 able in the acquired tone of her nieces, that she 
 rejoiced to know her little favourite was secure, 
 for the present, from the evil influence of their 
 example. 
 
 Maiy, however, w^as more charitable, or 
 less discerning. She was wonderfully im- 
 pressed with the elegance and graces of her 
 travelled cousins ; and was herself of so ino'e- 
 nuous and liberal a disposition, that it never 
 occurred to her to suspect the existence of infe- 
 rior qualities beneath so specious a surface. 
 Modestly, though silently, conscious of her own 
 personal defects, she admired their beauty, their 
 foreign graces, their trifling accomplishments, 
 nor deemed it possible that they could have 
 been left wholly ignorant, in all those unavail- 
 ing branches of education which were likely to 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 117 
 
 remain inostensible. Eleanor, indeed, who was 
 gifted with brilliant abilities, had contrived to 
 pick up some curious stores of general informa- 
 tion in an unchecked course of desultory read- 
 ing; but Claudia, with her music and her 
 miniatures, her melting Roman intonation, and 
 her polished Parisian idiom, remained a dunce 
 of the first water. As to moral principle, both 
 were equally in a state of mental darkness. To 
 form good connexions, maintain a good appear- 
 ance in society on small means, and obtain the 
 greatest portion of amusement for the least pos- 
 sible quantity of sordid expenditure, were the 
 only duties hitherto inculcated by the maternal 
 instnictions of Lady Maria. 
 
 " I really wonder," observed Sir Joseph Wil- 
 lingham to his lady, as he sat sipping a fiery vi- 
 nous decoction called Port, some weeks after the 
 arrival of his late brother's family, " that Lady 
 Maria, with her very limited income, should 
 have made up her mind to settle in London. I 
 can understand her finding herself thoroughly 
 tired of the dirty comfortless ways of the Con- 
 tinent ; but I should really have thought that 
 Bath or Brighton, or Cheltenham, or some 
 
118 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 cheap watering place, where amusement may- 
 be had at a reasonable rate, and no horses are 
 required, would have far better suited her pur- 
 pose: but, as I always say, it is useless to 
 attempt deciding on the views of other people." 
 
 " Oh ! as to Lady Maria's views, they are 
 far more evident than easy to influence. Lon- 
 don is the most profitable matrimonial market, 
 and London must therefore for\vard her specu- 
 lations, at any cost." 
 
 " But my nieces might have made a very 
 comfortable match at Brighton. She herself 
 picked up my brother at Ramsgate." 
 
 " Considering her moderate jointure, and her 
 daughters' want of fortune, I doubt whether 
 Lady Maria considers her own marriage a fa- 
 vourable precedent. For her girls, at all events, 
 she entertains much higher pretensions; and 
 she is so far justifiable, that they certainly boast 
 a degree of beauty and elegance such as, in her 
 best days, never fell to her share. I suspect 
 she intends them to form very splendid alli- 
 ances ; to effect which, she has certainly chosen 
 the most advantageous ground." 
 
 " Why yes/' said Sir Joseph, looking com- 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS, 119 
 
 placently round his gloomy dining-room, " all 
 men of distinction may certainly be fomid in 
 the metropolis at one time or other of the year : 
 and they are right — they would otherwise exile 
 themselves beyond the limits of the spread of 
 knowledge and the march of intellect. Do you 
 know, my dear Sophia, if I were to remain at 
 Heddeston myself all the year round, I really 
 think I should end with becoming a very dull 
 fellow." 
 
 Lady W. sneered over her dried cherries; while 
 Mary, after playing with her spoon a minute or 
 two, to disguise her embarrassment, observed, 
 " And Lady Maria has so many personal con- 
 nexions in town, so many noble relatives, who 
 will of course assist in forwarding her views ! '* 
 
 " When her little girl was left isolated in 
 England, I never perceived that any of her 
 Ladyship's illustrious clan troubled themselves 
 to show her the least civility, unless it were old 
 General De Vesci and his somniferous wife ; 
 and I am sure, during poor Sir Charles's time, 
 HeddestonJ Court used to be filled from Sep- 
 tember till March with nothing but De Vescis 
 and Lorimers." 
 
120 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 " Lorimers V 
 
 *' Old Lady De Vesci was a Lorimer/' 
 
 " Any relation to Charles's Eton friend ?" 
 
 '' Grand aunt, I believe." 
 
 " Ah ! I dare say she will find all these peo- 
 ple civil enough as far as occasionally chaperon- 
 ing her daughters, or giving them opera tickets, 
 or the pattern of a dress," said Sir Joseph. 
 
 " Or lending their carriage to Lady Maria," 
 significantly interposed Lady Willingham, with 
 an interrogatory glance at her husband. 
 
 " If you mean, Sophia, that her Ladyship is 
 likely to consider mine at her disposal, I beg to 
 observe that she deceives herself altogether. 
 If she chooses to gratify her own vanity by 
 settling in London on fifteen hundred a year,, 
 (for I leave her the full allowance for my three 
 nieces, although I undertake Minnie's school- 
 expenses as if she were a child of our own) " 
 
 " And so she 2*5," said both Lady W. and 
 Mary, in a low tone. 
 
 " Why it is solely her own affair. In that 
 three hundred a year she must be aware that I 
 have done my utmost — ay ! and as the father 
 of a family, more than many would have done, 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 121 
 
 considering the slights she marked towards us 
 all during Sir Claude's and Sir Charles's life- 
 time. I trust I understand my duty towards 
 the widow of my brother," continued Sir Joseph, 
 solemnly, " and I trust I have strength of mind 
 faithfully to fulfil it ; but as to having my horses 
 out night and day to please her, it is a thing I 
 will never do — never ! I consider it incumbent 
 upon every man — more especially one who has 
 officiated as a Christian minister — ^to be un- 
 ceasing in his tender mercies towards the brute 
 creation. What is it Cowper says " 
 
 " Never mind what Cowper says ; in this 
 instance your own opinions and determination 
 are far more to the purpose." 
 
 " Well, my dear ! mt/ determination is that 
 you may take Lady Maria or my nieces out 
 shopping whenever it suits you (except into the 
 City or the Strand of a Monday, on account of 
 scratching the carriage against the market 
 waggons); but if she should ever take the 
 liberty of applying for my equipage as an in- 
 dependent loan, you will have the goodness to 
 reply, that it is entirely against my principles to 
 distress my horses : and you may add, Sophia — " 
 
 VOL. I. G 
 
'1» 
 
 122 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 he looked askance over his wine glass to see 
 how the assertion took with his spouse — " that 
 I am tolerably positive in my opinions, when 
 they have been once seriously formed. You 
 know I refused Mary and yourself the grati- 
 fication of the Wenster archery meeting last 
 year, because Anthony thought the horses 
 wanted physicking, and that the pull was too 
 great. ^' 
 
 '^ Very true," replied Lady Willingham mildly, 
 and with a full remembrance that the objection 
 had arisen entirely on her own part. " But 
 you need not make yourself prematurely uneasy, 
 my love, for the De Vescis have taken a house 
 in Portman-square to be near Lady Maria ; and 
 you know the General has a superb set of 
 horses, and several carriages, and " 
 
 " Mighty absurd ! for his fortune at the 
 utmost is ten thousand a year ! which does not 
 go far, where there is a place in the country, a 
 borough, and a house in town to be kept up. 
 To be sure the General is not a family man, 
 which I find to my cost makes a considerable ' 
 difference in one's calculations." 
 
 " Then old Lady Monteagle is in town this 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 123 
 
 year, with her daughter Lady Dynevour. They 
 have both carriages, and can occupy but 
 one." 
 
 *' Ay, ay ! But you will find that neither of 
 them will be very solicitous to lend the other 
 to Lady Maria Willingham. You women under- 
 stand one another's manoeuvres so well; — you 
 know so perfectly what it is to keep a pair of 
 wretched horses shivering in the cold, while 
 you are tumbling over drawers of ribbons which 
 you never intend to buy, and matching silks 
 which you Lave already purchased at some 
 other shop ; — to say nothing of hearing them 
 cough in the street half the night, while you 
 are finishing your toilet, or engagea with a 
 last half hour of scandal at some Dowager's 
 rout." Sir Joseph chuckled, for he felt that 
 he had been more than commonly witty and 
 eloquent. 
 
 " And then, you know, Sophia, an old wo- 
 man like Lady Monteagle is always under the 
 dominion of a parcel of grey-headed servants ; 
 and you are well aware that her ladyship no 
 more dare ask either of her drunken footmen, or 
 her fat coachman, to go out at night, than she 
 
 G 2 
 
124 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 dare venture herself. It is not every one who is 
 so thoroughly the master of his establishment 
 as / am." 
 
 " Very true, my dear. By the wo-y, Mary, 
 what did your brother's last letter say about 
 young Stapylford ? — How has he got out of his 
 last scrape ? — I met Lady Monteagle this morn- 
 ing in Seymour-street, who was very anxious to 
 leam how her grandson had escaped." 
 
 " As usual, no doubt, upon other people's 
 shoulders," observed Sir Joseph. 
 
 " I fancy papa is right," replied Mary, mildly. 
 " Charles's account of the business is so very 
 confused, so different from his usual clear style 
 of letter-writing, that I am persuaded Mr. Sta- 
 pylford was rescued in this instance, as he 
 has often been before, by my brother and Lo- 
 rimer uniting to pay the damage. Lord Sta- 
 pylford is so very shabby with his son, that it 
 would be useless to apply at home on such 
 occasions." 
 
 " I wonder what Charles, or any one else, sees 
 to like in that young man ? " 
 
 " It often surprises me," said Mary. " He is 
 continually disgracing himself by some mad-cap 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 125 
 
 folly or other; and yet the wisest and most 
 amiable of his companions always appear willing 
 to become a sacrifice for him." 
 
 " I am glad to hear you talk so of Mr. Sta- 
 pylford, my dear Mary/* said Sir Joseph, with 
 an air of paternal authority. " I have some- 
 times doubted whether I were quite wise in 
 having such a wild young man so much at Hed- 
 deston.'* 
 
 " Young man! my dear papa!" exclaimed 
 Mary, with a blush; " Stapylford is a year 
 younger than my brother, and two years younger 
 than Lorimer or myself. I do not believe he is 
 sixteen till next year. If there is any thing to 
 fear, it is for poor Minnie ; you know he always 
 calls her his little wife." 
 
 " Yes, while he provokes her by cutting off 
 her dolFs head, or her spanieFs ears." 
 
 " I think the ' little wife ' system a very bad 
 one," said Sir Joseph solemnly. "If the aUiance 
 is really eligible, that sort of premature notice is 
 always sure to put a stop to it ; and it only serves, 
 when the girl and boy are grown up, to embarrass 
 them in each other's presence. I remember, when 
 I was a stripling. Lady Monteagle always per- 
 
126 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 sisted in calling her daughter Margaret my little 
 wife; and long after I was engaged to you, 
 Sophia, my father used to make Miss Margaret 
 and myself stand up together, to see which of 
 the young couple was the tallest. Now, do you 
 know, I cannot help fancying that Lady Stapyl- 
 ford blushes whenever I speak to her to this 
 very day." 
 
 Lady Willingham, who was w^ell aware that 
 the fair Margaret — a thorough-going Almack's 
 woman of fashion — had not blushed for twenty 
 years, to be visible through her rouge, and who 
 was by no means fond of hearing her own clan- 
 destine engagement alluded to in her daughter's 
 presence, took this historiette as a cue for re- 
 moval to the drawing-room, leaving Sir Joseph 
 to deposit his long thin legs on the marble 
 chimney-piece, in a meditative attitude, be- 
 coming the anxious after-dinner solitude of " a 
 father of a family." At present his thoughts 
 were exclusively occupied in conjecturing by 
 what means Lady Maria Willingham and her 
 daughters had become so extremely intimate 
 with the Duke of Lisborough as to be invited 
 to Calmersfield for the ensuing Easter holi- 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 127 
 
 days ; — with an occasional stray digression to- 
 wards the choice of a private tutor for his son 
 Charles, who had recently removed from Eton 
 to Oxford, 
 
128 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 It is one thing to understand persons, and another thing to 
 understand matters ; for many are perfect in men's humours, 
 that are not greatly capable of the real parts of business, 
 "which is the constitution of one who hath studied men more 
 than books. ^ Bacon's Essays. 
 
 In the Duke of Lisborough's intimacy with 
 the family of his late brother, there was, how- 
 ever, nothing that need have puzzled the com- 
 prehension of so sagacious a person as Sir Joseph 
 Willingham. His Grace was a frequent tra- 
 veller; had sojourned repeatedly in Paris, 
 Florence, Rome, and Naples, during Lady 
 Maria's settlement in those cities. He found 
 her current in the very best society of each ; he 
 knew her to be as well connected as himself, 
 and, in some remote degree, with himself; and, 
 moreover, during their more recent acquaint- 
 
WOTHJSRS And DAiiGtiTERg. 129 
 
 ance, he had discovered her to be the mother of 
 two lovely girls — elegant, accomplished, fasci- 
 nating — every thing in short which his bachelor 
 predilections could desire. It was very natural 
 that he should rejoice to hear they were about 
 to settle in their native country; it was still 
 more so that he should express a hope of seeing 
 them frequently at Calmersfield Park. He had, 
 in short, a long arrear of hospitality to repay to 
 Lady Maria. 
 
 But the worthy proprietor of Heddeston 
 Court was by no means the only person to 
 whom the ensuing Easter visit afforded matter 
 of surprise and speculation. The Duke of 
 Lisborough had a married brother and a 
 widowed sister, who kept vigilant watch and 
 ward over the female arrivals at Calmersfield ; 
 and as both were equally British fixtures, and 
 equally unversed in the fashionable currency of 
 the Continent, neither Lord Robert Lorton nor 
 Lady Grayfield were at first prepared to admit 
 Lady Maria's justifiable claims to the attentions 
 of their illustrious kinsman. No sooner had 
 they managed to discover that she had two 
 daughters, very handsome and very poor, than 
 
 G3 
 
130 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 some degree of indignation mingled with their 
 astonishment j but, as they had ascertained at 
 the same time that Lady Maria was a De Vesci, 
 their owti distant kinswoman, they perceived 
 that it would be impossible, or indecent, to 
 manoeuvre her out of her invitation. The poor 
 Duke very naturally, but very superfluously, 
 believed himself to be master of his own house. 
 But this is a domestic point on which others, 
 besides Sir Joseph Willingham, are apt to de- 
 ceive themselves. 
 
 Meanwhile, Lady Maria, unsuspicious of the 
 consternation excited by her approach, pro- 
 ceeded to weave her plots in utter unconscious- 
 ness of the Argus eyes which waited on their 
 development. At the appointed period, Made- 
 moiselle Celine contrived to adjust in a capa- 
 cious imperial the berets and chapeaux parts de 
 Miladi, without infringing on the more impor- 
 tant claims of the young ladies' ball-dresses and> 
 canezQus — exquisite in their elaborate simplicity. 
 I'heir newest music, including a Romance a, 
 deux voiXf composed for them by Blangini, and 
 a Mazurka, with an impossible name, forwarded 
 to them at Paris by some Polish Count—- their 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 131 
 
 eX'Cavaliere of a former season — was duly de- 
 posited in its golden-hinged morocco portfolio ; 
 while their mother-of-pearl work-boxes were 
 furnished with unfinished specimens of broderie, 
 whose delicacy might have brought down on 
 either fair Arachne the vengeance of Minerva ; — 
 unless the suggestions of one of their most be- 
 loved and confidential friends were correct — 
 that these chef d'auvres of the needle had been 
 purchased of an indigent hrodeuse of the Rue 
 Vivienne, 
 
 Certain it was, that during their residence 
 at Calmersfield, not a single leaf, not the 
 petal of a flower, was added to the perform- 
 ance ; but then the Miss Willinghams were in 
 such popular request! They were always 
 wanted in the music-room, or the ball-room, or 
 the billiard-room -, to-day the Duke insisted 
 upon driving Claudia through the neighbouring 
 villages in his droski; to-morrow Eleanor was 
 selected as the companion of a " capability" 
 walk, to decide upon the site of a kiosk, which 
 it was his intention to construct in an elevated 
 position of the gardens. Sometimes he had a 
 cabinet of cameos to display — for what English 
 
132 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 nobleman escapes from Rome unbitten by epi-' 
 demic connoisseurship, and unduped by the cog- 
 noscenti ? — Sometimes, on a rainy day, a new 
 cotillon was to be practised in the dancing-gal- 
 lery ; and one or other of Lady Maria's daughters 
 was sure to be selected as his partner. 
 
 The girls themselves, with all that sanguine 
 expectation and fearless enjoyment of passing 
 pleasure, which is co-existent only with extreme 
 youth, valued his preference solely for the 
 amusement and variety it insured to them in 
 their daily pursuits ,* and even Lady Maria pre- 
 sumed not to hazard a hope that all this favour 
 and intimacy would tend to any further advan- 
 tage than a dehut in London of especial bril- 
 liancy. She was well aware that Calmersfield 
 'had long been regarded as a sort of conserva- 
 toire of fashion — an university of ton, wherein 
 young ladies might take degrees, calculated to 
 inaintain their future reputation in the beau 
 Tmonde ; and she was duly anxious that the 
 honours thus attained by her accomplished 
 daughters, should be of the highest order. 
 But neither Lady Grayfield nor Lord Robert 
 gave her credit for this compulsory modera- 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 133 
 
 tion ; they believed her to be intent on crowning 
 her fair offspring with strawberry-leaves rather 
 than with laurel ! 
 
 Claudia and Eleanor, meanwhile, even had 
 they been aware of the mistrustful and angry 
 feelings thus excited against them, would have 
 still maintained that courteous and buoyant ani- 
 mation which constituted the principal charm 
 of their character and demeanour. Among the 
 numerous arts they had learned on the Conti- 
 nent — and among them all it was, perhaps, the 
 only one conducive to their personal happiness — 
 was that of utter indifference to les miseres — or 
 those trifling grievances which form the daily 
 and delightful grumbling-block of so many of 
 our countrywomen. " Pour porter legtrement 
 la vie/' says a French proverb, " il faut savoir 
 glisser sur Men des chases !" Even frivolity has 
 its axioms of philosophy ; and strives to replace, 
 by a degree of pococurante levity, the more 
 humble Christian virtue of patience. 
 
 " I suspect Lady Grayfield does not like us," 
 observed Eleanor Willingham to Lady Robert 
 Lorton. " But what does her approbation sig- 
 nify ? With the Duke's engouement in our 
 
134 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 favour, and your friendship, dear Lady Robert, I 
 am perfectly careless what that animated matter- 
 of-fact feels towards us, or thinks about us." 
 
 "You do yourselves justice," replied Lady 
 Robert — the most fascinating little coquette in 
 the w orld. " At your age you have no right to 
 distract yourself with plans, and projects, and 
 worldly foresight ; leave them to Lady Maria as 
 her own especial province; and enjoy the sun- 
 shine of life as long as its clouds will let you. 
 Lord Robert and his sister delight in perplexing 
 the brightest moments of existence by all the 
 agonies of second-sight ; and are quite indig- 
 nant when they find my sympathy waiting the 
 actual occurrence of evil. I hate to turn back 
 my head towards the dark shadow that follows 
 me ; or direct my telescope towards a coming 
 storm." 
 
 " And I," said Eleanor, " have at present seen 
 so little of the miseries of hfe,.that I trouble 
 myself as lightly with apprehension as with my 
 last night's dreams." 
 
 " My dear child, one season of English fogs 
 will refonn your sin of light-heai-tedness alto- 
 gether : I fear you will find, by dreary expe- 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 135 
 
 rience, that cheerful animation is regarded 
 among us as a very malignant symptom. In 
 other countries, virtue is depicted as a smiUng 
 nymph, with frank joyous eyes and gladsome 
 footsteps j in Great Britain, she is typified as a 
 doughty spinster, tricked in antique ruff and 
 bonnet, starched pinners, and a rueful and mor- 
 tified countenance." 
 
 " Her eloquence must be mighty indeed, if, 
 under such a guise, she can continue to increase 
 her train of proselytes." 
 
 " Oh ! we blindfold our children in their in- 
 fancy, and stimulate them by the hope of re- 
 ward — by the sugar-plums of selfishness — to 
 walk uprightly over the burning ordeal. My 
 girls, like their foolish mother, are blest by na- 
 ture with a very merry temperament ; but they 
 are not allowed to laugh after they are five 
 years old. The Duke, and Lord Robert, and 
 Lady Grayfield, assure me that to be amused is 
 a plebeian privilege ; and they have provided a 
 governess for my urchins, who is careful to train 
 them up in fitting habits of well-bred solemnity. 
 As to the dear Duke, he has ventured somewhat 
 nearer to the equator, indeed, than the rest of 
 
136 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS, 
 
 his frozen family ; and has Neapolitanized him- 
 self into a taste for guitars and smiling faces — 
 the Carnival and the Willinghams ; but it costs 
 Robert and his sister a world of pains to refrige- 
 rate him, on his return, into the dulness of phleg- 
 matic indolence becoming the head of the house 
 of Lisborough." 
 
 "But why does not Lady Grayfield satisfy 
 herself wdth drilHng her own children, and Lord 
 Robert with training up his — not in the way 
 they should go — but in the way they should 
 stand still ? — ^W^hy cannot they allow the Duke 
 to amuse himself according to his own fancy, 
 or as they J perhaps, may choose to consider it — 
 his folly?" 
 
 " In the first place, it is the mania of the 
 Lisborough family to believe that the eyes of 
 the whole earth are fixed upon their proceed- 
 ings ; and that, from the days of Noah until now, 
 their illustrious dynasty has remotely influenced 
 the destinies of every quarter of the globe. Then 
 Robert — who really persuades himself that he 
 is very anxious his brother should marry — frets 
 himself into a fever of consternation whenever 
 he fancies that the wish is threatened with 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 137 
 
 realization, by any thing approaching to a real 
 flirtation on poor Lisborough's part ; and as to 
 Lady Grayfield — although it evidently matters 
 very little to her eldest son whether Calmers- 
 field be ever menaced with a Duchess and an 
 heir apparent — she has been so long accustomed 
 to manage her brother, and do the honours 
 of himself and his possessions, that she enter- 
 tains an instinctive hatred towards all the young 
 ladies vnth whom he dances, and all the Dowa- 
 gers with whom he dines. I was apprehensive 
 that her Gorgon brow would have petrified poor 
 Lady Maria last night, when the Duke took the 
 second to your Notturno,'* 
 
 " She may calm all her alarms on my ac- 
 count," said Eleanor scornfully. " I do not 
 deny my predilection in favour of the splendours 
 and luxuries of Calmersfield, and his Grace's 
 many treasures of magnificence ; but not for all 
 these, and more, would I encounter the life of 
 solemnity which will befal his wife. There is 
 so much of ttte a tete in English matrimony, 
 that it cannot be measured by emblazoned 
 parchments — ^by a golden balance, and diamond 
 weights, as we manage such matters on the 
 
138 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 Continent ; the disposition and qualities of the 
 future husband must be thrown into the scale." 
 
 *' Oh ! Lisborough has excellent qualities ; 
 he is good-tempered, and generous, and honour- 
 able, I am very fond of him, except on state 
 occasions, when he acts the gr^and Seigneur, 
 and grows a bore." 
 
 " Claudia thinks him the wonder of the cen- 
 tury. If Lord Robert has any thing to appre- 
 hend for his son, it is from he?' ; but for me, he 
 is much too formal. And now tell me, dearest 
 Lady Robert, how is it that Lady Grayfield, 
 who you say is so tenacious of her influence, 
 and so jealous of the Duke's regard, chances 
 to be fond of youy who are his favourite beyond 
 all rivalship?" 
 
 *' Oh ! all Charlotte's loves and courtesies 
 are calculated by the most approved tables of 
 
 interest. I was an heiress, you are to know, 
 and as well descended as herself; so she spared 
 neither effort nor blandishment to secure my 
 marriage with her younger brother. She thought 
 me a good match for Robert, and it was quite 
 diverting to see how desperately she fell in love 
 with me. After my marriage, without pretend- 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 139 
 
 ing to any skill in sorcery, I very soon found 
 her out ; and not being of a mysterious temper, 
 made no secret of the discovery. But not 
 angrily — I only laughed at all her little ma- 
 noeuvres, which she did not like; and made 
 Lisborough laugh— which she liked still less." 
 
 " And thus you proceeded to open warfare V* 
 
 " On the contrary ; I remained as pacific as 
 a herald ! Charlotte has her weaknesses like 
 the rest of us ; but in common with all the 
 Lorton family, she has sterling qualities to form 
 the counterbalance. So when I saw her vexed 
 by my persifiagCy I left off laughing, both 
 actively and reflectively ; for I only keep this 
 sort of irony in reserve, as the most efficient 
 weapon of defence practicable against the 
 solemn high mightinesses of the earth." 
 
 " Then you still believe that it is fear which 
 makes her so loving?" 
 
 " No ; I give her credit for a better feeling 
 on the present occasion. She is extremely 
 attached to Robert, as belonging to the Lis- 
 borough dynasty ; and to my children, as being 
 Lortons by right of inheritance ,• and seeing that 
 they all love me, and that I make them all 
 
140 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 happy, she honours me with a sort of colla- 
 teral affection herself. But I am persuaded 
 Lady Grayfield's original motive for preferring 
 me as a sister-in-law, and tolerating Lis- 
 borough's partiality, was her observation of my 
 indifference to the distinction. She saw that I 
 would not be at the trouble of a manoeuvre to 
 secure a diadem; and that I left the coveted 
 task of managing the Duke and his civil list 
 entirely at her disposal; — ^that all the little 
 dirty patronage of trinkets from Rundell's, 
 presentations to livings, seats in parliament or 
 seats in opera-boxes, was a matter of indiffer- 
 ence to my indolent nature ; and, satisfied that 
 she has nothing to lose by my rivalship, she 
 allows Lisborough to like me as much as he 
 pleases. I am one of the few people, you know, 
 whom it is quite impossible for him to marry. 
 And now let us commence our toilet ; for you 
 are to understand that among the deadliest sins 
 of omission and commission, according to his 
 Grace's estimate, is that of being too late for 
 dinner." 
 
 The whole of this edifying conversation was 
 duly unfolded by Eleanor to her sister, when 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 141 
 
 the hair had been curled, and Mademoiselle 
 Celine dismissed that very night. But Claudia 
 was in high spirits; intoxicated with the in- 
 creasing homage of the Duke of Lisborough, 
 she would listen to no remonstrances. She 
 was neither inclined to suspect Lord Robert, 
 nor to dread Lady Grayfield. 
 
 " Depend on it, dear Eleanor," pleaded the 
 sanguine girl, " brothers and sisters have a veiy 
 moderate influence in such cases. The Duke 
 may consult Lady Grayfield about new furnish- 
 ing his saloon at Calmersfield, or Lord Robert 
 about the equipage which he tells me Adams is 
 building for him ; but it is precisely because he 
 has no wife to whose better taste to refer. If 
 his heart were once really touched, be assured 
 that it would speak too loudly to admit of their 
 further interference." 
 
 " If his heart were really touched ! But 
 consider for a moment the difficulty of touching 
 a heart that has been concentrated and wrapped 
 up in long years of selfish independence ! The 
 Duke has been so accustomed to find his plea- 
 sures and inclinations regarded as a first object, 
 and to hear the attentions of unmarried women 
 
142 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 pointed out to his mistrust, that those instances 
 of personal regard and preference, which might 
 flatter and attach another man, must have 
 become disgusting to himself." 
 
 " Nevertheless," said Claudia, looking com- 
 placently round the gilded panels and refulgent 
 mirrors of their dressing-room — '^ nevertheless, 
 dear Nelly, 'tis a stake worth playing for. I 
 like the Duke better than any one of the Cal- 
 mersfield guests ; he shares in our modes of 
 thinking and feeling, and enjoys all our favourite 
 pursuits. I am persuaded he prefers me to any 
 of the girls here who are so vehemently intent 
 on devouring him ; and at all events I shall lose 
 nothing by encouraging his attentions." 
 
 " Unless it be your own heart, which you 
 seem to account but lightly throughout the 
 affair." 
 
 " My heart !— oh ! if I thought the Duke of 
 Lisborough's heart as secure as I know my own 
 to be,. I should become hopeless indeed ! If he 
 is selfish and mistrustful, what are we ? — If he 
 is forewarned and forearmed ao;ainst a matri- 
 monial ambuscade, ichat is Claudia Willing- 
 ham?"— 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 143 
 
 " A woman! — a name including a general 
 confession of sensitive weakness. However, if 
 not forearmed, dearest Claudia, you are at least 
 forewarned ; and once more believe me, that, did 
 any chance of success exist for your views, 
 mamma would have been the very first to pro- 
 ject and forward them; believe me, you have 
 no hope of escaping the manoeuvres of the Gray- 
 field and her brother." 
 
 If any thing could excuse the obstinate infa- 
 tuation of Claudia Willingham, it was the con- 
 duct of the Duke himself. Among all his 
 successive engouemens, none had ever appeared 
 to possess him with half the intensity which now 
 actuated his attention towards her. In their 
 riding parties, he suffered no arm but his own 
 to lift her to the saddle ; in their evening dances 
 he constantly claimed her hand, and would not 
 hear of a change of partners. He insisted upon 
 lingering by her side in the sculpture gallery, 
 that he might point out his own favourite busts 
 as subjects for her pencil; and he would no 
 longer allow her to walk, drive, sing, or work, 
 except in compliance with his own especial 
 whims and fancies. True it was, that never did 
 
144 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 the lovely Claudia appear so beautiful, or so 
 graceful, as when blushing under his gaze, or 
 turning away from his animated whispers ; for 
 her whole heart — her whole being — was inspired 
 with an ardour to please, such as she had never 
 felt before. 
 
 Even Lady Maria found herself compelled, 
 by the jealous comments of the various mammas 
 assembled at Calmersfield, to turn her attention 
 towards these mutual symptoms. But although 
 gratified beyond measure, and not altogether 
 -without hope of a favourable result, she was 
 discreet enough to abstain from personal inter^ 
 ference. Apparently altogether occupied with 
 her darling Eleanor, who was sufficiently oblig- 
 ing to be afflicted with a singularly well-timed 
 cold, she contrived to shut herself up with her 
 second daughter, wraps, lozenges, and arra- 
 root, so as to remain in seeming ignorance of 
 the general proceedings of Calmersfield, and the 
 nervous irritation of Lord Robert Lorton, 
 
 But poor Lord Robert, in pursuance of his 
 fatal birthright of younger brotherhood, had al- 
 ready undergone more than one matrimonial 
 crisis of this tr}ang description, and was grow- 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 145 
 
 ing an experienced tactician against the allied 
 forces of his female adversaries. He had long 
 since discovered that it v^^as utterly useless to 
 engage his light-headed, but true-hearted wife, 
 in the affray, and that his sole reliance must 
 rest upon the machinations of his " dear Char- 
 lotte." But even with her he had many diffi- 
 culties to encounter. He found it an arduous 
 task to tame down her feminine susceptibilities 
 into the moderation essential to political move- 
 ments — into that calm politeness towards the 
 offenders, which might alone enable him to meet 
 their mischievous advances on an equal footing. 
 In vain did he remind her that it was the frac- 
 tious insolence of Madame Henriette towards 
 the mistress of Louis XIV. which had procured 
 her Duchy and distinction at court ; in vain did 
 he urge, that Lisborough, notoriously the most 
 obstinate of men, once roused by any ungracious 
 dealing towards his reigning princess to say 
 " / idlly" would be thenceforward lost to them 
 for ever ! 
 
 " God knows it would be a most gratifying 
 event for us both to see the dear Duke happily 
 married ; but then the daughter of such an in- 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
146 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 trigante as Lady Maria Willingham would at 
 once mar the future happiness of our family- 
 circle. No, no — my dear Charlotte ; Lisborough 
 must select a kind, amiable, domestic being, 
 such as his sister, or farewell to all comfort at 
 Calmersfield." 
 
 " Whereas the Willinghams would fill the 
 house, and engross all the Duke's attention with 
 a set of riff-raff foreigners, of whom, in my opi- 
 nion, we have more than enough as it is. Fo- 
 reigners are very well in a sprinkling, to enliven 
 a party with all their mopping, and mowing, 
 and grimacing ; but what have they to give in re- 
 turn for all the trouble we lavish upon them, even 
 should we ever chance to visit their own bes:- 
 garly castles of desolation ? — Heaven grant us a 
 sister-in-law, my dear Robert, who has been 
 respectably educated in England, in the midst of 
 respectable English connexions." 
 
 " To effect which most desirable consumma- 
 tion, let me implore you, Charlotte, to imitate my 
 courtesy towards these Willinghams. I often 
 prevent Lisborough from dancing with Miss 
 Claudia by the assiduity with which I claim her 
 hand myself — and she dare not refuse me. 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 147 
 
 Now, it is your cue, dearest Lady G — , to affect 
 a violent friendship for them all. Insist upon 
 driving and walking, on all occasions, with Miss 
 Willingham, and there is an end at once of 
 those abominable, those dangerous tete-a-ietes ; 
 as to all the rest, leave it to my exertions, and I 
 Avill engage to dislodge the whole tribe from 
 Calmersfield vv^ithout any permanent mischief." 
 
 Lord Robert Lorton's promised manoeuvres 
 on this occasion, although extremely efficient, 
 were by no means either new or original ; the 
 ancient policy of the borrowed paw and the hot 
 chesnuts, availed with him as well as with the 
 cunning ape of the fable. To a " great house " 
 like Calmersfield, a body-guard of toad-eaters 
 forms an inevitable appanage ; and the Duke of 
 Lisborough was fortunate in somewhat more 
 than the usual apportionment of soiiff re-do uleiirs, 
 doubles, billiard-blocks, living-hunters — younger 
 brothers to talk to the young lady-nieces, cou- 
 sins, and guests — to fill up the charades and co- 
 tillons, and improvisate epigrams for the pon- 
 derous albums of the Dowagers ; — and middle- 
 aged bores, with heads bald without, and pam- 
 phlet-stuffed within, to talk politics on public 
 
 H 2 
 
148 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 days to the country gentlemen ; the said poHtics 
 being importantly authenticated by incidental 
 allusions to " my friend, the Home Secretary," 
 or " my brother, the late President of the Board 
 of Control." Among these, Lord Robert, as 
 heir-presumptive to the lands and tenements 
 around, was tolerably secure of finding ready 
 instruments for his plans. 
 
 Polished into discernment by the whetting- 
 stone of selfish jealousy, the wily brother was 
 in possession of a correct tariff of the degrees 
 of influence maintained by this respectable 
 chorus of followers over the mind of the Duke ; 
 and he had no hesitation in selecting for the 
 furtherance of his present purpose, Mr. Bentley, 
 a young clerical dependent, whose lay waistcoats 
 were apt to figure somewhat uncanonically in 
 the hunting-field, and the evening quadrille ; and 
 a certain plausible, silver-tongued Pylades of a 
 certain age, whose arm was always at the Duke's 
 service to ascend the steps towards White's, and 
 whose white teeth formed a sort of visible echo 
 to his Grace's wit, whenever he chanced to 
 wax jocose. Mr. Russell was a remarkably well- 
 bred man; never hazarded a request, and seldom 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 149 
 
 spoke above his breath, or smiled beyond a 
 given angle of satisfaction — a degree of modera- 
 tion which insured him a distinguished place in 
 the solemn friendship of the Duke of Lisbo- 
 rough ! " Some people think Russell mono- 
 tonous," his Grace was wont to say, " and some 
 call him a bore : but / like him ; he never takes 
 liberties." 
 
 On occasion of the Willingham conspiracy, 
 however, the cautious Russell hazarded an 
 attempt such as he had never perilled on any 
 previous temptation. Approaching the Duke in 
 the pauses of a battue, and having, as he ima- 
 gined, wrought him to a favourable mood of 
 audience by a flourishing overture in honour of 
 his Grace's favourite Nock, and its unparalleled 
 feats of the morning, he ventured a slight skir- 
 mish against Lady Maria and her daughters. 
 **They were lovely girls, certainly; but ??za- 
 7utree — decidedly manitrce. They had too much 
 of the jargon of a particular clique; and that, 
 perhaps, not of the highest order. For after all, 
 the Neapolitan set was by no means of the most 
 exclusive class." 
 
 I am thoroughly tired of exclusives," replied 
 
 i( 
 
150 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 the Duke, as he stalked away over the stubble. 
 '^ There is nothing so wearisome as lending an 
 eternal ear to the mere echoes of an echo. Give 
 me a new oracle, even if its inspiration be of 
 doubtful authenticity." 
 
 Half of this peevish reply being " by the Gods 
 dispersed in empty air/' Mr. Russell did not 
 immediately discover that he was voting with 
 the minority. 
 
 " Did you ever happen to see the caricature," 
 he persisted, " which Lancaster circulated at 
 Paris, of Lady Maria Willingham in the cha- 
 racter of JLa vedova something or other, out 
 of one of Goldoni's comedies ? vdth her daugh- 
 ters represented as " 
 
 " I have not seen it yet. But Claudia was 
 mentioning it to me last night, and promised to 
 get it for me to complete my set of Lancaster's 
 sketches — his domestic treacheries as / call 
 them. I detest his system altogether, and I 
 have determined that nothing shall induce me 
 to re-admit him within my doors." 
 
 A tremendous dilation of the nostrils — an un- 
 failing demonstration of Lisborough ire — now 
 convinced Mr. Russell that he had missed his 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 151 
 
 mark. Nay, so enormous a proportion of toads 
 were administered by the Duke to his digestion, 
 during the remainder of the day, that even Ids 
 patient appetite turned restive. On the follow- 
 ing morning, Mr. Russell's well-packed phaeton 
 and well-furred valet drew up beneath the por- 
 tico of Calmersfield; and he, to whom the 
 remote prospect of contingent ejection from its 
 hospitalities, in case of a Willingham Duchess, 
 had been a sufficient motive for a first attempt 
 at tracasserie, found himself compelled to an 
 immediate cession of his bachelor-tenure. Lord 
 Robert, meanwhile, who saw through the whole 
 affair, beheld his departure without one struggle 
 of remorse. He cared not whether the paw of 
 his cat were reduced to cinders ; saving as a 
 horrible thermometer-evidence of the fury of the 
 Lisborough furnace ! 
 
 The clerical dandy was the next victim des- 
 tined by the merciless Lord Robert to encounter 
 the perils of the Willingham pitfall ; and poor 
 Bentley having been duly primed for mischief 
 by Lady Grayfield's unceasing representations 
 during two rainy mornings, of the poverty of 
 Lady Maria's innumerable connexions, as well 
 
152 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 as of the large proportion thereof destined to 
 wrestle with the ills of life in surplices and 
 black coats, he rushed fearlessly to the ordeal. 
 During the sleepless nights, or night-mared 
 repose, following those days of atmospheric 
 moisture, his mind's eye had rested upon the 
 identical parochial church of the county of D. 
 which he had long pre-appropriated as his own ; 
 while his mind's ear became deafened into 
 horror, by the reading-in of a Willingham or a 
 De Vesci. He became desperate; and like 
 other desperate men, urged on the failure of his 
 own fortunes. 
 
 Much has been said respecting the treasons 
 hatched in female society during the solitary 
 hour abandoned to their debates between dinner 
 and coffee ; but more, far more, might be added 
 touching the reprisals practised by mankind, 
 their natural enemy, in that fatal half-hour 
 V hich succeeds the arrival of the groom of the 
 chambers and his wax-lights. Scarcely has the 
 last "good night" sounded in the last anti- 
 room — scarcely has the fair Viscountess, in her 
 dressing-room, abandoned her perfumed locks 
 to the delicate fingers of her French maid, and 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 153 
 
 the worthy Viscount in the saloon beneath 
 ensconced himself in a Skelmersdale chair, with 
 a copy of the last Edinburgh Review in his 
 hands — when every woman of the party, who 
 chances to possess neither father, brother, hus- 
 band, nor acknowledged lover, among the group 
 of loungers retaining possession of the saloon, 
 falls successively under the lash, and is finally 
 sacrificed to the merciless scandal of their ill 
 nature. 
 
 " How very well the Miss Willinghams 
 waltz," observed Mr. Ducie, a good-natured 
 and gentlemanlike young Oxonian. "A cousin 
 of theirs, a Christ-church man and old Etonian, 
 who is a great friend of mine, told me they were 
 considered the best dancers in Paris ; and they 
 at least excel any thing one sees at Almack's.'* 
 
 "Yes ! quite JiguranteSy as you observe," said 
 Bentley, delighted with the cue. "Eleanor, 
 failing a better vocation, would make an admi- 
 rable Columbine, and Claudia " 
 
 The Duke, who was drinking a glass of iced 
 water, stopped short and investigated the hap- 
 less speaker from head to foot. "Well, Bentley, 
 pray proceed. You are so admirable a judge 
 
 H 3 
 
154 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 of les usages du grand monde — so versed in le 
 manuel des hienstances — so exquisite a critic of 
 female accomplishments — ^pray proceed. What 
 of Miss Willingham and her waltzing ? " 
 
 Bentley, who was out of sight of the dilated 
 nostril, and not sufficiently acquainted with the 
 vocal intonations of Lisborough fuiy to discover 
 that the Duke was boiling with indignation, 
 simply enough complied with the request. 
 
 " Why, as to Claudia Willingham and her 
 w^altzing, my lord, I must fairly avow that I 
 should be very sorry to see a wife or sister of 
 my own put forth the same attractions in a 
 similar manner. ^ II y a des plaisirs si doux 
 quails nous sont defendusj said La Bruyere. 
 IN'ow I will just show you the lovely Claudia's 
 notion of pleasure, and notion of decency." 
 And seizing Sir William Vavasor, a remarkably 
 shy young man, round the waist, he com- 
 menced an extravagant mimicry of Miss Wil- 
 lingham's style of dancing, perverted into a 
 tone of voluptuous freedom, which the strug- 
 gles of his reluctant and involuntary partner 
 rendered still more ridiculous. 
 
 " Admirable !" exclaimed the Duke, his eyes 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS, 155 
 
 flashing fire as he spoke, while he strove to 
 attract the attention of the whole party to the 
 scene. " My friend here is really impayahle ! 
 Not satisfied with assuring you, gentlemen, that 
 he would not accept Lady Maria Willingham^s 
 daughter as a Mrs. Bentley, in any shape — 
 (poor girl ! I trust no malicious person will 
 petrify her by the intelligence !) — not satisfied 
 with reprobating a lady, one of my most es- 
 teemed Calmersfield guests, as vulgar and indis- 
 creet, he literally presumes to adventure the 
 chastisement of Archbishop, Bishop, and the 
 diocese at large, by exhibiting in his own person 
 all the indecent contortions of some de2:raded 
 opera dancer. My good Bentley, I trust you 
 may render your contrition available to the 
 
 Dean and Chapter, at ; but you will find 
 
 it difficult to excuse yourself to me for insulting 
 my female friends in my presence." 
 
 The Duke took a candle from the chiffo- 
 nier and stalked out of the room ; a movement 
 of dignity which was followed by the ominous 
 silence of the rest of the party. Those who 
 had been reading, looked up from their books 
 contemptuously at the disconcerted Bentley — 
 
156 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 compassionately at the despairing Lord Robert. 
 The young men shrugged their shoulders as 
 they adjourned to the billiard-room; and the 
 elder ones hastened up stairs, that they might 
 gossip with their wives over the promised 
 change in the politics of Calmersfield. Mr. 
 Ducie alone had courage to observe aloud, 
 " The Duke of Lisborough in love ! — so much 
 the better. A pretty and agreeable Duchess 
 will be a great addition to the neighbourhood." 
 
 Meanwhile, having counselled the unhappy 
 Bentley to pack up his portmanteau, and avoid 
 the angry aspect of the morrow's breakfast- 
 table, Lord Robert Lorton sought refuge from 
 his woes in the sympathy of Lady Grayfield's 
 dressing-room. 
 
 " It is all over, Charlotte ! the thing is quite 
 irremediable. Lisborough is evidently engaged 
 to that artificial, hollow, odious girl. Poor 
 little Robert !" 
 
 " Are you quite certain ?" 
 
 " Oh ! he has committed himself by so vehe- 
 ment a defence of his idol, that I have every 
 reason to believe them engaged. I give up 
 the case as hopeless." 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 157 
 
 " Retreat insures defeat. No, no ! take 
 nothing for granted — do not despair — fight on 
 to the last gasp. Trust to me to second your 
 efforts ; and if we do not foil the Willinghams 
 at last, why — ^ I will burn my crutch.' " 
 
158 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 J'ai fait en peu de terns d'assez belles conquetes, 
 Je pourrois me vanter de fortunes honnetes ; 
 Et nous sommes courus de plus d'une beaute, 
 Qui pourroient de tout autre enfler la vanite. 
 
 Voltaire, 
 
 It is astonishing with what velocity, accord- 
 ing to the amiable modification of modern 
 society, incidents and opinions are made to 
 travel to the knowledge of persons, for whose 
 ears, of all others, they were the least intended. 
 Before noon on the following day, Lady Maria 
 Willingham was perfectly acquainted with 
 every domestic fact preceding the departure of 
 Messrs. Russell and Bentley. But on this 
 occasion the treachery of the clandestine in- 
 formant was less flagrant than is commonly the 
 case. 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 159 
 
 Lady Robert Lorton enjoyed too keenly the 
 discomfiture of an interested manoeuvre of any 
 kind, to care whose character was compromised 
 by its detection, or to w^sh to preserve the in- 
 telligence for her solitary amusement ; and no 
 sooner had her dispirited lord mounted his 
 hack to ride to covert, than she sent for Elea- 
 nor to share her chocolate in her dressing-room ; 
 where, without exaggeration or reserve, she 
 proceeded to detail the whole story. " But re- 
 member," added she, in conclusion, " remember 
 my warning, and do not let Claudia order her 
 trousseau on the strength of the Duke^s passing 
 enthusiasm — for passings believe me, it really is. 
 I have seen him in love and out of love six 
 dozen times ; his heart is worn so threadbare 
 with the mean adulation of young ladies and 
 their mammas, that he has learned to mistrust 
 himself and them. He gives himself up to 
 momentary intoxication, only to re-assume a 
 still more frigid sobriety ; and were your sister, 
 for whom last night he put lance in rest and 
 was eager to engage in a crusade, to appear 
 to-day at dinner in an ugly gown, or with 
 her hair in ringlets, farewell to all Lisbo- 
 
160 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 rough's sentiment. It would not cost him a tear 
 were she to be impaled to-morrow at sun-rise." 
 
 The fact and the comment were simulta- 
 taneously communicated by Eleanor to her 
 mother. But Lady Maria was either too much 
 elated bv the Duke's ea2:er defence of her 
 daughter, or was too habitually on her guard 
 against deception, to look upon Lady Robert's 
 qualifying notes on the tale, as any thing more 
 than an artful feint. Cunning people are apt 
 to see so much more than the truth, that they 
 regard the actual visage as a mask, and expose 
 themselves accordingly. 
 
 Nor did the events of the evening tend to 
 diminish her fallacious self-congratulation. 
 Lord Robert Lorton returned from the hunting- 
 field with a visage lengthened like that of a 
 prime minister who has divided on a minority ; 
 he was, in fact, at the lowest ebb of despair, 
 touching the matrimonial tendencies of his 
 brother. 
 
 The covert of an English rendezvous de chasse 
 has been christened, not unaptly, " the Coffee- 
 room ;" there is scarcely a hunting county in 
 which the forthcomino; deaths and marriasres. 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS, 161 
 
 politics and scandal, are elsewhere manufac- 
 tured. Now Lord Robert, who had unfortu- 
 nately lingered in his Calmersfield dressing- 
 room for the purpose of unfolding his budget of 
 grievances to his lady, had arrived so late at 
 the appointed spot, that the Russell and Bent- 
 ley history had preceded his hack ; and before 
 he had time to reach his groom and sleek 
 hunter, twenty different county voices had 
 congratulated him upon the approaching nup- 
 tials of the Duke of Lisborough. Vainly did 
 he attempt to escape — to turn a deaf ear to 
 their insinuations — to interest himself with the 
 huntsman and kennel politics : his friends 
 readily perceived that he was agonized even 
 unto martyrdom, and would not spare him a 
 single sentence of their rapture ! 
 
 Poor Lady Maria pondered all these things 
 in her heart till she was well nigh demented ' 
 All dinner-time she fancied that the Duke 
 would whisper his proposals in the course of a 
 cotillon or a game of tcartt ; but she was dis- 
 appointed. She then flattered herself that his 
 Grace would demand a private audience when 
 she retired for the night; and again she was 
 
162 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 disappointed ! N^importe ! — he had very signi- 
 ficantly expressed his intention of breakfasting 
 with them previous to their departure on the 
 following morning ; and as this was many hours 
 before the levte en masse of the Calmersfield 
 guests, there could be little doubt that he would 
 seize on that auspicious moment for his decla- 
 ration. But alas ! just as the coffee and dry 
 toast were smoking in his hand, in rushed Lady 
 Kobert in her deshabille of the night ! declarin^j 
 she would see the last of her dearest Eleanor, 
 and placing herself with the greatest naivete 
 between Claudia and the Duke of Lisborough. 
 Lady Maria could willingly have boiled her to 
 death in the hissing coffee-pot ! 
 
 The post-horses were punctual, and the Wil- 
 linghams were compelled to avow themselves 
 ready ; yet not one word verging upon a pro- 
 posal had escaped the lips of his Grace. The 
 travelling-carriage rolled with barbarous rapi- 
 dity along the Macadamized roads of Calmers- 
 field Park, and poor Claudia's bosom began to 
 heave with suppressed sobs. At present, how- 
 ever. Lady Maria saw no cause for despair. Lady 
 Robert's mal-a-propos arrival was accused as the 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 163 
 
 origin of all the evil, and as a premeditated 
 piece of mischief; and they might still look 
 forward to the arrival of the post — that second 
 providence which, like its prototype, 
 
 Sends letters to some wretch's aid ! 
 
 On the strength of this forlorn hope, poor 
 Claudia, who had travelled down bodkin, was 
 ensconced in a comfortable corner of the car- 
 riage as a Duchess-expectant; and when they 
 paused for the night. Lady Maria — the tactician 
 — ^not only called her " her dearest child," but 
 for the first time in her life was singularly 
 curious touching the airing of her bed. 
 
 It must be owned that on their arrival at 
 home, the lodging-house m Seymour-street wore 
 a miserably lugubrious appearance, after the 
 gilded saloons of Calmersfield; and that the 
 " tough and scorched mutton" became at least 
 as distasteful to their palates as after their first 
 estrangement from the cotelettes and salmis of 
 Paris. There is a vulgarity of sound and scent 
 inseparable from a small house and small esta- 
 blishment, which her (future) Grace found at 
 the present moment extremely repulsive to her 
 
164 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 nerves ; and she began to listen with yet more 
 feverish eag^erness for the bi-sonorous matin 
 knock, w^hich excites so interesting a sensation 
 in London among all persons correspondentially 
 inclined. At length, after an interval of six or 
 seven endless days, a frank from Calmersfield — 
 *' Free — Lisborough," was placed upon the 
 breakfast-table; and, as it was addressed to 
 Miss Willingham, Claudia, without a pause 
 and vaih. a beating heart, tore open the envelope ! 
 A voluminous inclosure fell to the ground ! 
 Lady Maria grew pale and Eleanor red, with 
 the intensity of their emotion ,* nor dared they 
 hazard a single comment until Claudia, burst- 
 ing into tears and tossing the epistle into her 
 sister's lap, exclaimed, " Take it, Nelly ! — 'Tis 
 only a bundle of embroidery patterns from that 
 odious Lady Robert Lorton." 
 
 Lady Maria, unpossessed of a single spark 
 of generosity of mind, instead of sympathizing 
 with her daughter's disappointment, began to 
 vent the expression of her own in a thousand 
 bitter sarcasms ; taxing the two girls with the 
 failure of her favourite scheme, and straightway 
 charging them with having formed it them- 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 165 
 
 selves, and on the most absurd premises. In 
 a day or two, however, the Duke himself 
 arrived in town, and all her expectations were 
 revived by the sight of a card for the first ball 
 at Lisborough House. From that moment no- 
 thing could be too good for Claudia ,* and grow- 
 ing suddenly discontented with all their Parisian 
 finery. Lady Maria ventured on an order for 
 three splendid new dresses to Triaud ; an order 
 which, by the bye, before the day was over, she 
 contrived by various hints and suggestions to 
 fasten as a present upon her poor old uncle, 
 General De Vesci ! 
 
 Meanwhile Mr. Russell had taken up his 
 snug abode in his Albany Chambers for the 
 season; and whereas, among the numerous 
 dowager-houses and dinner-houses, where he 
 was in a manner an habitual guest, and appa- 
 rently as inevitable to the turbot as its lobster- 
 sauce and cucumber — that of the Duke of Lis- 
 borough formed a highly important and agree- 
 able addition, he felt himself deeply aggrieved 
 by the premature abridgment of his holiday visit 
 to Calmersfield, and cruelly menaced by the 
 matrimonial projects of its noble proprietor. 
 
166 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 Especially attached to the bachelor ttat 
 major of his Grace, he had found it ex- 
 tremely convenient, on many occasions, to ac- 
 cept a corner of his carriage to Paris, and a 
 jpied a terre in his apartments in the Place 
 Vendome ; and at Baden and Spa he had more 
 than once achieved the genuine honours of 
 European vogue, by forming part of the Lis- 
 borough party. He v^^as well aware that the 
 distinoTiished favour with which he was received 
 at the mansions of half the Lord A.s and B.s 
 and C.s of the Peerage, on five days of the 
 week, borrowed its cordiality from the certainty 
 that he had formed part of the thrice hallowed 
 circle of Lisborough House on the other two ; — 
 that his scandal was looked upon as an authentic 
 echo, and his political intelligence as a dawning 
 truth, because emanating from that fountain 
 head of fashionable gloiy. And to resign all 
 this ! — to find himself degraded into a mere 
 independent, respectable Mr. Russell, with two 
 thousand a year and a wig, was more than he 
 could think upon with common patience. He 
 was certain that Claudia did not like him ; — 
 that, being older than the Duke, she would re- 
 
MOTIIETIS AND DAUGHTERS. 167 
 
 gard him as likely to maintain his Grace in all 
 his fidgety old-bachelor ways, and to vote for the 
 exile of the loves and graces from their little 
 circle. Already he imagined himself compelled 
 to cede his place at table as an hahitut of the 
 house, to some young Hussar Viscount, flaunt- 
 ing vvith raven mustachoes; already he saw 
 himself dislodged from his long-tenanted suite 
 at Calmersfield, in favour of some incipient 
 Baronet-witling from White's : — and as to Paris 
 or Pisa, the future Continental excursions of 
 the Lisboroughs would of course be shared by 
 the coronetted or landed interest — ^by young- 
 heirs affording the promise of a good match to 
 the Duchess's younger sisters. 
 
 Unhappy Mr. Russell ! after cogitating him- 
 self into a near approach towards a fit of the 
 jaundice, he resolved, with most heroic energy, 
 that the field should not be lost for lack of 
 defence ; so stepping into his phaeton, he con- 
 trived, in the course of thirteen morning visits, 
 systematically selected among the most gossip- 
 ing widows and maidens of his acquaintance, 
 to spread a report of the Duke of Lisborough's 
 ensuing marriage with Claudia Willingham. 
 
168 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 He was a sufficiently experienced tactician to 
 be aware that a premature alarum of this de- 
 scription, sounded in the ear of the public, is 
 an almost peremptory bar against the consum- 
 mation of the event. 
 
 On this occasion, indeed, the London public 
 had nothing to say in reply. With all its school- 
 boy partiality for negation — all its terrier-like 
 tendency to a snarl — it could find neither argu- 
 ment nor motive against the alliance. Lady 
 Maria Willingham was forgotten in London so- 
 ciety ; her daughters were at present unknown; 
 and as she had been careful to inscribe their ar- 
 rival [" In Se}Tnour-street from Calmersfield 
 Park,"] among the locomotive and most men- 
 dacious records of the Morning Post, the 
 world could form no reasonable conjecture 
 against the probability of the case. 
 
 By the result of this little manoeuvre, how- 
 ever, poor Lady Maria became thoroughly mys- 
 tified in her turn. She found herself suddenly 
 elevated to the hig-hest honours of fashionable 
 popularity ; smothered by the sudden caresses of 
 every human thing boasting the most distant 
 consanguinity to the houses of De Vesci or Lori- 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 169 
 
 mer, and overwhelmed by successive showers of 
 visiting and invitation cards from all the 
 Duchesses, Marchionesses,Countesses, Viscount- 
 esses, and Baronesses, to whom she had ever 
 been allied through the social link of a formal 
 bow or curtsey. She was amazed to find how 
 much every body loved her, and how deep was 
 the anxiety of all her former acquaintance to 
 become introduced to her charming daughters. 
 " My dear Eleanor," she exclaimed, " how for- 
 tunate that I resolved to settle in London. We 
 have not a single day disengaged for three 
 weeks to come ; and I see no chance of our 
 being obliged to dine at home during the whole 
 of the season. As to horses, Lady Dynevour 
 insists upon my using her's, as if they were my 
 own, and my uncle assures me, that at his club 
 he is pestered to death by applications for an 
 introduction here. By the w^ay, my dear girls, 
 in all this success, you must not neglect your 
 aunt, De Vesci ; although she is never more 
 than half awake, and might be easily persuaded 
 that you have been sitting with her an hour 
 every day since you came to town, yet your 
 uncle is very acute about such matters, and very 
 
 VOL. I. I 
 
170 MOTHEES AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 tenacious that every attention should be paid 
 to Mrs. De Vesci." 
 
 " Yes ! he hinted to me yesterday that we 
 were grown very fine at Calmersfield ; and that 
 we had not dined in Portman-square since our 
 return," said Claudia. 
 
 " Who can dine there ? " exclaimed Eleanor; 
 nothing but a salamander could be nourished 
 without excruciation, upon that eternal series 
 of mulligataw^ney, currie, cabobs, cayenne, and 
 preserved ginger. My uncle's bill of fare 
 positively requires one's throat to be Macadam- 
 ized." 
 
 " Oh, that might easily be remedied by an- 
 ticipating with a bouillon.'^ 
 
 " Yes, dear Mamma," said Claudia. " But 
 the society — the odious set of men one meets 
 there ! What could neutralize the horrors of 
 the De Vesci circle ? " 
 
 " My dear, your uncle cannot get rid of his 
 government-house ways. He cannot yet divest 
 himself of the idea that he is the representative 
 of majesty. He shakes hands with all his guests 
 by way of being affable, and addresses all his 
 morning visitors with, ' 1 trust you will take 
 
MOTHEKS AND DAUGHTERS. 171 
 
 your dinner here to-day.' — Take your dinner! 
 How thoroughly colonial ! " 
 
 " And unfortunately these morning visitors 
 of his are exclusively wretched denizens of the 
 army and navy-list — atrocious monsters belong- 
 ing to the Commissariat — or official animalculi ; 
 so that he has no chance of finding them pre- 
 engaged. xA^t seven o'clock the whole cono-re- 
 gation of beasts throngs back to the De Vesci 
 ark." 
 
 " Very true, my dear. But although the 
 guests in Portman-square are persons whom it 
 is your duty to cut if you meet them the next 
 morning, remember, Eleanor, that your uncle 
 has ten thousand a-year still unsettled, and has 
 no relations nearer than ourselves. So go and 
 put on your hat, and inquire after Mrs. De 
 Vesci." 
 
 For this time, however, they were redeemed 
 from the impending calamity, by the arrival of 
 Mary Willingham " on hospitable thoughts 
 intent." Sir Joseph, having caught a remote 
 whisper of Claudia's approaching advancement, 
 had become suddenly impressed with the urgent 
 necessity of inviting his sister-in-law and nieces 
 
 I 2 
 
172 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 to a family dinner; and as Sophia and him- 
 self were enduring the agonies of the annual 
 influenza, inevitable in London to April and east 
 winds, he had dispatched his daughter with all 
 the excuses and compliments he could muster 
 between the pauses of his ipecacuanha lozenges. 
 Mary, however, proved an admirable ambas- 
 sadress ; for, instead of these formal civilities, 
 she graced her errand with so earnest an ex- 
 pression of pleasure at seeing her cousins, and 
 so inimitable a blush of cordiality, that no one 
 could doubt her regret on finding them already 
 bespoken. Lady Maria, indeed, howbeit she 
 excused herself with courtesy, was secretly in- 
 dignant that she had been supposed to be at 
 the command of an impromptu invitation. She 
 felt that her day of " family dinners" was over ; 
 and that the tide of fashion now flowing in her 
 favour, would land her high and dry among 
 vessels of far greater magnitude than a paltry 
 provincial, ex-clerical, Sir Joseph and Lady 
 Willingham. 
 
 " I am sorry to find Mr. Willingham has re- 
 turned to Oxford '* observed Lady Maria to 
 her niece. " It is so many years since I have 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 173 
 
 seen him, that I am becoming very anxious to 
 renew our acquaintance." 
 
 " Charles went with us to visit Minnie pre- 
 vious to his departure, and regretted to learn from 
 her that the length of your stay at Calmersfield 
 would deprive him of the pleasure of being pre- 
 sented to you for some time.'* 
 
 " By the way, Mary," observed Eleanor, 
 ** your brother's bosom friend was of the party, 
 and one of its most agreeable members." 
 
 " Mr. Lorimer is very lively — has very great 
 and varied talents," replied Mary Willingham, 
 blushing still deeper than before. 
 
 *' Lorimer ! — Mr. Lorimer ! — you must surely 
 be speaking of one of our own cousins, while / 
 was alluding to a Mr. Ducie." 
 
 " Mr. Ducie is only a schoolfellow of 
 Charles's ; Frederick Lorimer is his dearest and 
 most intimate friend. I conceived that you 
 must be aware of the fact, as I have always un- 
 derstood him to be nearly related to Lady Maria : 
 he is Lord Lorimer's second son." 
 - " Oh ! we never plead guilty to a relationship 
 to younger sons," replied Eleanor, laughing. 
 " It does not answer to extend one's connexions 
 
174 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 below the heir apparent ; otherwise we might 
 incur the stigma of being seen with a Mr. John 
 or a Mr. William for a partner, an infamy 
 scarcely inferior to that of the ' Travaux Forces * 
 of the branding iron." 
 
 Mary saw that her cousin intended to be 
 witty, and rewarded the effort with an obliging 
 smile ; but she was utterly in the dark as to 
 Eleanor's meaning. Lady Maria, who had been 
 diligently inditing a flummering note of apo- 
 logy to Lady Willingham, now came forward 
 with her inquiries. 
 
 " I think I heard you mention a son of my 
 cousin Lord Lorimer's, Mary ; what is he like, 
 and what are his pretensions ? — Is he a rising 
 young man ?" 
 
 " I scarcely know how to answer you," replied 
 her niece, timidly. '' Mr. Lorimer is remark- 
 ably handsome, and distinguished himself very 
 much at Eton ; but Lord Lorimer, who has an 
 elder son in Parliament, and a younger one who 
 is intended for the church, has decided that he 
 cannot afford to give Frederick an university 
 education, and Mr. Lorimer is sentenced to 
 finish his at some college on the Continent." 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 17S 
 
 " So much the better ! — he will escape being 
 stupified with the classics and mathematics, 
 and all such unavailable learned lumber : and 
 will acquire what Jouy calls ' les talens iitiW — 
 music, dancing, languages, and fencing. I pre- 
 dict that this boy will become the most civilized 
 of his family — who are vieille-cour people, and 
 stupid enough. Eleanor ! remind me when I call 
 on Lady Lorimer to inquire about this son 
 Frederick of her's." 
 
 " At present," observed Maiy, " Mr. Lorimer 
 appears to have very little genius for ' les talens 
 utils ;' he is almost as grave as my brother, who 
 is almost as dull as myself," she continued, 
 smiling, as she addressed her adieus to her 
 cousins. " But I hope you will visit us more 
 frequently, and assist in polishing and enliven- 
 ing us both." 
 
 " Really that girl is not so frightful, after all," 
 observed Claudia, who was arranging her owa 
 hair in a little mirror insinuated into the lid of 
 her work-box. 
 
 '* Not frightful, my dear ! — she is marked 
 with the small-pox." 
 
176 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 " So slightly that it is scarcely perceptible.** 
 
 " And then," said Eleanor, " her teeth are so 
 exquisitely beautiful, that her smile quite illu- 
 minates her countenance. I wonder if her bro- 
 ther is like her.'* 
 
 " He was the most miserable, meagre, yellow 
 boy in nature," exclaimed Lady Maria, peevishly. 
 " I have never seen him since I lost my poor 
 dear Claude !'* (by no possible chance did she 
 ever revert thus lamentingly to the death of her 
 husband,) " and I hate the very thoughts of him. 
 I always regard Charles Willingham as the 
 usurper of my son's rights.'* 
 
 " You must marry him to Minnie," said 
 Eleanor, " some six or seven years hence, and 
 so restore Heddeston to the right line." 
 
 '^ Oh, my dear child," exclaimed the tenderest 
 of mothers, " for the love of pity, do not remind 
 me that I have a third daughter to renew my 
 martyrdom of chaperonage ; at all events, let 
 tne dispose of you both before I am obliged to 
 form any plans on Minnie's account. When 
 my little Claudia here becomes Duchess of Lis- 
 borough, she will assist in getting j/ow, Eleanor, 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 177 
 
 off my hands ; and I shall depend upon you 
 both to bring out Sir Joseph and Lady Willing- 
 ham's protegee with fitting eclat. '^ 
 
 " Here is Lady Monteagle come to drive us 
 to Colville*s, to order our bouquets for Monday 
 night. Who mtends to accompany the tire- 
 some old woman? — Claudia?'* 
 
 " Oh, no ! my dear Eleanor, by no means : I 
 cannot think of allowing Claudia to leave the 
 house while this east wind continues ; it is fatal 
 to a fair complexion like hers — besides the Duke 
 might call. And on second thoughts, Eleanor, 
 I will go with you myself ; for I must manage 
 to coax the Dowager out of her carriage for 
 Lisborough House. The hammercloth has not 
 been put on mine yet ; and one would not appear 
 there you know in a horrible hired carriage." 
 
 " Oh, you might have left that piece of diplo- 
 macy in mj/ hands. I can persuade old Mont- 
 eagle to any thing by listening to her opodeldoc 
 stories, and her Jeremiades over young Stapyl- 
 ford's wildness." 
 
 " Well, good bye, my dear Claudia ! Here 
 is a book to amuse you while we are away — 
 those French memoirs which the Comtesse 
 
 I 3 
 
178 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 Manfroni lent me at Calmersfield. But put 
 them under the cushion of the sofa if any one 
 comes in ; for I have found them un pen — un 
 pen — UH peu ! And pray, my dear, do not sit 
 too near the fire while you are reading; the 
 glare of sea-coal is as bad for a delicate skin as 
 the east wind. Monday night approaches, Clau- 
 dia! — and in neglecting your personal attrac- 
 tion, you forfeit all chance to the Duke of Lis- 
 bcrough." 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 179 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Combien d'esprit, de bonte de coeur, d'attachement, de ser- 
 vices, et de complaisance dans les amis, pour faire en plusieurS 
 annees bien moins que ne fait quelquefois en un moment, un 
 beau visage, ou une belle main I 
 
 ha Bruytre> 
 
 I TRUST I have contrived to insinuate into 
 the mind of the experienced reader — and what 
 modern novehst is cursed with any other? — some 
 suspicion of an existing attachment on the part 
 6f the gentle Mary WilUngham towards Frede- 
 rick Lorimer. The attachments of young ladies 
 in general should never be more than hinted until 
 sanctioned by banns or a special license ; and 
 Mary's was at present peculiarly entitled to this 
 degree of deUcate consideration ; being unsoli- 
 cited — uncertain of return — bestowed on a 
 younger brother, the son of an avaricious and 
 
180 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 pompous sire — and presenting a tremendous pro- 
 mise of disappointment to the secret projects of 
 her own parents. 
 
 The mere existence, indeed, of an unsolicited 
 affection in the bosom of a female of delicacy, 
 is a fact that would be carefully concealed by 
 any other biographer ; but for my own part, I 
 feel no scruple in initiating the world into Mary's 
 secret, being morally and demonstratively per- 
 suaded, that, from the palace to the cottage, 
 there exists not throughout England a girl of 
 purer feelings, or of more exquisite womanly 
 modesty. Mr. Lorimer had been from childhood 
 her beloved brother's beloved friend ; had spent 
 his holidays on more than one occasion at Hed- 
 deston Court ; had grown up insensibly from 
 the blue-jacketed schoolboy into the tall strip- 
 ling of fashion ; and no wakening consciousness, 
 no recoil of feeling, had yet prompted her to 
 withdraw from him the confidential appellation 
 of Frederick ; or to resent that of Mary from 
 his own lips. She loved him ; — but at present 
 she knew it not herself. 
 
 Lord Lorimer was a formal, well-intentioned, 
 mouthy, frothy man, of the old school. He 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 181 
 
 had married late in life ; and accordingly found 
 himself called upon to direct and govern the 
 wild animation of three fine young men, and 
 two giddy young women, at a period of exis- 
 tence when elderly gentlemen are generally 
 fonder of their night-gown and slippers than of 
 the more active paths of society. Had not his 
 Lordship entertained a singular degree of predi- 
 lection for petty authority and minor legislation, 
 he might have divested himself with ease of these 
 uneasy cares of the parental estate ; for Lady 
 Lorimer was not only some thirty years his 
 junior, but was equally distinguished by the 
 solidity of her understanding and the excellence 
 of her heart ; she was a bright example of 
 womanly virtue throughout the various duties 
 and obligations of her sex. But she was neither 
 addicted to moral harangues, nor prone to dwell 
 with emphasis upon the minutiae of social dia- 
 logue; and Lord Lorimer necessarily regarded her 
 as deficient in acuteness and energy. He per- 
 suaded himself that had it not been for his own 
 anxious interposition, his children would have 
 been neither reared nor educated ; and that, but 
 for his exertions, his whole household would have 
 
182 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 fallen into a most lamentable state of disorga- 
 nization. 
 
 Mr. Lorimer, the heir apparent, unfortunately- 
 inheriting his mental and moral qualifications 
 rather from his father than his mother, was 
 somewhat empty and very solemn. He was 
 vain of his birth, his person, and his acquire- 
 ments; and fully intended to render them 
 all available in the acquirement of still higher 
 honours. Frederick Lorimer, on the contrary, 
 was one of the most unassuming, cordial, frank- 
 hearted beings in the world. Beyond the wish 
 of being happy and rendering others so, he had 
 not a single earthly desire ; he was liable to 
 strong and sudden impressions, but fortunately 
 for his happiness, they were prompted by the 
 same amiable and disinterested spirit which 
 was the origin of his actions. He had all his 
 mother's goodness of heart ; but it was at pre- 
 sent unregulated by the sterling common sense 
 that formed the basis of Lady Lorimer's charac- 
 ter. The daughters were good-humoured, lively 
 girls; fond of finery and fashion — miserable 
 at the loss of a ball, and enchanted by the 
 adulation of every new partner. Their mother 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 183 
 
 loved them with true maternal tenderness ; and 
 strove to moderate their girlish folUes with so 
 much judicious kindness, that she never terri- 
 fied them into reserve or hypocrisy. Lady 
 Lorimer was their most confidential friend ; and 
 being the first person admitted on all occasions 
 behind the scenes of their wild plans and vehe- 
 ment attachments, she was enabled to do far 
 more by persuasion than their father by all his 
 pompous authority. 
 
 To a woman of this amiable disposition, Mary 
 Willingham's gentle character offered, of course, 
 a far greater attraction than to her daughters • 
 who were rapt into an ecstacy of admiration 
 by the brilliant accomplishments of the more 
 fashionable cousins, and never failed to vent 
 their sarcasms upon the unattractive and un- 
 graceful address of poor Mar}^ Vainly did Lady 
 Lorimer attempt to equalize their prejudices 
 and quali fy their enthusiasm. She too, perhaps, 
 was somewhat partial in her judgment ,• for with 
 motherly penetration she had already discovered 
 the timid girl's predilection in favour of her 
 own Frederick. A mother is always indulgent 
 towards the attachments created by her off- 
 
184 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 spring ; and more particularly towards a disin- 
 terested passion for her second son. Now, 
 among the persons who were the most vehement 
 in their sympathy with the reported engage- 
 ment between Claudia Willingham and the 
 Duke of Lisborough, the Lorimer family in 
 general particularly distinguished themselves. 
 His Lordship, who was the cousin of Lady Maria, 
 and a prodigious stickler for the maintenance 
 of a family connexion, was highly gratified by 
 the prospect of such a splendid collateral addi- 
 tion to his family tree. Mr. Lorimer, whose 
 mind was bewildered by borough-interest and 
 laudable Parliamentary ambition, already pro- 
 jected nothing less than a junction with the 
 Lisborough party ; and the girls out-ecstasied 
 their usual animation, in their triumphant anti- 
 cipation of bridal balls and unnumbered partners 
 at Lisborough House. Even Lady Lorimer 
 rejoiced. She knew it was the first wish of 
 Lady Maria's worldly heart to form an advan- 
 tageous establishment for her daughters; and 
 she was always satisfied that other people should 
 be made happy in their own way. Frederick 
 alone remained indifferent on the occasion ; he 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS: 185 
 
 had never yet seen his friend Charles's beauti- 
 ful cousins ; and a mariage de convenance was 
 an occurrence claiming no sympathy from his 
 honest bosom. He was destined, however, to 
 alter his opinion on the subject. 
 
 It chanced that by some strange miscalcula- 
 tion or oversight on the part of the Miss Lori- 
 mers. Lady Lorimer's cards for an assembly had 
 pointed out the express evening selected for the 
 first ball at Lisborough House. His Grace, 
 pre-assured of the most fashionable crowd in 
 London, or to speak more correctly, finding the 
 whole of London society open to his fastidious 
 selection, was always late in his invitations ; so 
 that there remained no time for the circulation 
 of a postponement on Lady Lorimer's part. His 
 Lordship, her husband, indeed, was indignant 
 at the bare suggestion of such an humiliation. 
 " He flattered himself,'' he said, " that Lady 
 Lorimer was secure of forming her own distin- 
 guished circle, let however many Dukes appoint 
 their entertainments for the same evening." He 
 even insinuated a hope that his Grace of Lisbo- 
 rough might not find cause to lament his own 
 temerity. His daughters began to find their 
 
186 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 secret consolation in anticipating the accession 
 of brilliancy which the simultaneous ball would 
 confer upon the toilets of their female guests ; 
 and Frederick needed no consolation. He had 
 privately determined to slip away " unknowiist " 
 in the thickest and dullest of his mother's un- 
 eventful party, and to be the first to join in the 
 first waltz of the rival festival. 
 
 The important night arrived. The candles 
 and sinumbras blazed, the liveries glittered, and 
 the street resounded with oaths and flagellation. 
 A crash of panels, and an unintermitting plunge 
 of imtated steeds, deafened the neighbourhood. 
 In the midst of this noisy overture. Lady Maria 
 and her daughters ascended Lord Lorimer's 
 illuminated staircase, unprepared for the sensa- 
 tion excited by the annunciatory reiteration of 
 their name throuo;hout the moving^ mass of white 
 satin and diamonds in the crowded suite above. 
 They had very little suspicion of the vehemence 
 with which a thousand disappointed rivals 
 thronged towards the reception-door, to catch 
 the earliest glimpse of the favoured beauty who 
 was about to monopolize the most coveted of 
 British coronets. Lady Maria, indeed, became 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 187 
 
 agreeably conscious of an universal buzz of ad- 
 miration following their entrance ; but this she 
 very naturally attributed to the loveliness of the 
 two dtbutantes, on whose adornment neither 
 labour nor expense had been spared. She dis- 
 covered with delight that the result was emi- 
 nently successful; Claudia and Eleanor Wil- 
 lingham were, beyond comparison, the most 
 beautiful girls in the room. 
 
 Scarcely had they struggled through the 
 outskirts of the crowd, when ten, twenty, 
 thirty different persons were pleading to Lady 
 Lorimer for an introduction ; and among those 
 to whom a Continental acquaintance, or an inti- 
 macy of " auld lang syne," afforded any plea 
 for familiarity, Lady Maria was quite amazed 
 to find what a very strong anxiety existed to 
 learn how she bore the change of cUmate— how 
 she liked her new house — how she ate, drank, 
 slept, moved, thought, and felt. Not Shak- 
 speare's Crook-back, after his successful suit 
 to the Lady Anne, could be more smitten with 
 astonishment at the discovery of his own un- 
 suspected attractions. Dinner parties! — she 
 might have dined for five hundred days to 
 
188 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 come at the expense of the Peerage in general. 
 Horses and carriages ! — she might have tra- 
 velled on borrowed wheels to the Cataracts of 
 Upper Egypt, without the expenditure of a single 
 feed of corn. She heard honourable mention 
 made of a long-forgotten bilious fever which 
 had nearly exterminated her in her teens; and it 
 was astonishing what a number of intimate 
 friends now reminded her of their former visits 
 to the obsolete dampery at Chiswick ; — " visits 
 she had probably never heard of, as it appeared 
 a mere matter of ceremony to leave a card." 
 
 Lady Maria was wise enough to take things 
 as she found them, without instituting an in- 
 quiry into motives and contingencies. It was 
 premature to affect the dignity of offended 
 majesty; and it would be quite time enough to 
 profit by the lavish offers of her profuse con- 
 gregation of friends, in case of the failure of 
 her mighty matrimonial expectations. She 
 was all courtesy, all bland and smiling grati- 
 tude ; " to beguile the time," she looked like 
 the time ; and was already as affably dignified 
 as though she were mother to all the Duchesses 
 of the whole coronation-pageant. 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 189 
 
 There was one person, at least, in that bril- 
 liant assemblage, who was as disinterested in 
 her admiration of Claudia's loveliness, as she 
 was painfully affected by that bestowed from 
 another quarter upon Eleanor's animated graces ; 
 and this was the modest daughter of Sir Joseph 
 Willingham. 
 
 " I am dying to get near you, Mary V ex- 
 claimed Frederick Lorimer, addressing her over 
 the capacious shoulder of a stationary Dow- 
 ager. " I want you to tell me the name of the 
 beautiful .creature who kissed her hand to 
 you just now — there ! — she is smiling at you 
 still.'' 
 
 " The young lady with the white flowers in 
 her hair?" 
 
 " Young lady ? vile, frigid distinction ! No, 
 no ! — the goddess — nymph — fairy queen — what 
 you will — any thing but young lady !" 
 
 " It is my cousin, Eleanor Willingham. " 
 
 " Lucky dog that I am, for she is mine ulso ! 
 I will fly to claim my relationship. Or stay, 
 Mary; you who stand in an intermediate de- 
 gree of consanguinity to both, i/ou shall be my 
 mistress of the ceremonies." 
 
190 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 " Willingly, if you will lend me your arm to 
 get through the crowd. Mamma is in the 
 midst of a rubber, and I must ask her permis- 
 sion before I leave her side." 
 
 But before she could obtain the sanction of 
 tlie dehberate Lady Willingham, Frederick was 
 gone again. His impatience had carried him 
 towards one of his own sisters, whose services 
 he knew he could command ; and Maiy, 
 wedged in between the rubber and the Dowager, 
 had to endure the gradual torture of observing 
 his animated advance towards Lady Maria's 
 party ; his presentation and flattering reception ; 
 his flushed cheek in addressing Eleanor, and 
 her smiling elegance in listening to his irrepres- 
 sible adulation. By and bye, while still im- 
 movably clutched in the gripe of the crowd, 
 she saw him present his arm to lead the blush- 
 ing beauty into the refreshment-room ; and as 
 they vanished from her view, the chamber in 
 which she stood became an undistinguishable 
 chaos of glimmering lights and rocking walls ; 
 and the conversation around her was gene- 
 ralized into a hollow murmur, like the voice of 
 a chafing sea. During her progressive recovery 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 191 
 
 from this first shock of incipient jealousy, a 
 country neighbour, a Kentish Baronet, who had 
 long loved her for the patience with ^hich she 
 endured his profuse gift of tediousneSPpressed 
 his services on her acceptance for a similar 
 journey; an offer which Mary, in the restless 
 hope of witnessing the conclusion of the affair, 
 readily accepted. Their progress through the 
 crowded rooms, however, was slow. The pro- 
 vincial Baronet was no adept in the polite ail 
 of inserting his elbows into the shrinking sides 
 of the stationary matrons ; and poor Miss Wil- 
 lingham was much too gentle and too courteous 
 to rush forward through the opposing tides 
 with the insolent defiance of a girl of many 
 seasons. 
 
 As she passed through the door at which 
 stood Lady Lorimer, a patient sentinel keeping 
 watch and ward over the interests of her ar- 
 riving and retreating guests, her pale face 
 attracted the attention of the kind hostess. 
 
 " My dear Mary ! you are indisposed — ex- 
 hausted by the heat! Can I get you any 
 thing ? or shall I let Lady Willingham know 
 that you are unwell?" 
 
192 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 " Thank you, dear Madam, I have just quitted 
 Mamma. SirWiUiam Wyndham is so good as 
 to take me in search of a glass of cold water ; 
 and when I have left this crowded room, I 
 shall be well in a moment." 
 
 " Go then, my love ! I will not detain you," 
 whispered Lady Lorimer, kindly accompanying 
 her to the head of the stairs, and remaining 
 there a moment to watch her progress. She 
 had however detained her; and just as Mary 
 reached the hall, she experienced the peculiar 
 satisfaction of seeing Frederick Lorimer, hat 
 and cane in hand, escort the well cloaked 
 figure of Eleanor through a file of footmen 
 towards the street — Lady Maria and Claudia 
 having already preceded them to the carriage. 
 Apparently there already existed an excellent 
 understanding between the parties ; for having 
 deposited Eleanor, he jumped in afterwards ! 
 The footman, in slamming both steps and 
 door, shouted " Lisborough House!" and away 
 they drove in a moment. " After all, Fre- 
 derick is their cousin!" thought Mary. But 
 the recollection, and the scene, and the rela- 
 tionship altogether, renewed her dizziness, 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 193 
 
 and her urgent inclination for a glass of cold 
 water ! 
 
 It was the first time poor Mary had ever 
 grieved over her own and her parents' deficiency 
 of ton — it was the first time she had ever envied 
 an admission into the enchanted halls of the 
 Duke of Lisborough — it was the first time she 
 had ever become painfully conscious of her own 
 personal inferiority to her favoured cousins ! 
 They were sprung from the same parent-stock : 
 in fortunes her destiny rose far above their own; 
 her education and acquirements equalled theirs ; 
 her heart and mind raised her immeasurably 
 above their level. Her attire on the present 
 occasion had been richly selected; nor could 
 any reasonable or tangible superiority be alleged 
 in their favour. Yet Mary felt at once that she 
 had no business with the ball at Lisborough 
 House; that she had no air of fashion; no 
 currency in the heau monde to sanction her 
 admittance ; no style to adorn the Galoppe or 
 the Mazurka; no tournure, no brilliancy of 
 beauty to fascinate the attention of the mercurial 
 Frederick Lorimer. — It was a hopeless case : — 
 and Mary was obliged to have recourse to a 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
194 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 second glass of water, before she could nerve 
 her courage to re-encounter the affectionate 
 inquiries of his xmsuspecting mother, or to plant 
 herself once more beside the critical interest of 
 the concluding rubber. 
 
 But if Mary's emotions were painfully excited 
 by the events of the evening, what was the 
 tremoui' of Lady Maria's fi*ame, on joining the 
 long line of carriages which heralded their ap- 
 proach to the purlieus of the ducal mansion ! 
 There is nothing more perplexing both to body 
 and mind than the rocking and jerking motion 
 which accompanies a fashionable progress of 
 this description, and mocks the impatience of 
 the feverish denizens of the crowded carriages. 
 Eleanor, who sympathized feeUngly in the agi- 
 tation of her sister, silently pressed the trembling 
 Claudia's hand ; but their mother was too much 
 elated by recent homage, and by the confirma- 
 tion she had received at Lady Loiimer's of the 
 general belief in his Grace's attachment to her 
 daughter, to dream of any thing but an approach- 
 ing triumph, and Claudia's glorious distinction 
 as queen of the ball. She was persuaded that 
 before they left Lisborough Hall that night, the 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 195 
 
 proposal would be made, and the strawberry- 
 leaves already budding over the brow of the 
 future Duchess. 
 
 The gateway was happily navigated, and the 
 circle of the court-yard achieved, amid the un- 
 noticed compliments and witticisms of Mr. 
 Lorimer. The marble hall, the vestibule, the 
 laurel-wreathed staircase, the perfumed anti- 
 chamber were quickly passed; and already at 
 the door of a gallery leading to the blazing 
 ball-room, they caught a glimpse of their noble 
 host. Claudia, who was leaning on her sister's 
 arm, trembled as she pressed it to her side: 
 she was almost breathless ; for being intimately 
 versed in his Grace's habits and demeanour, she 
 discerned in a moment that he had assumed 
 his grandest aspect of dignity to do the honours 
 of his house. 
 
 The mechanical groom of the chambers now 
 whisperingly announced the names of " Lady 
 Maria and the Miss Willinghams — Mr. Fre- 
 derick Lorimer ; " but his Grace did not advance 
 the breadth of one flower of the Toumay carpet. 
 He gently extended the tip of his hand, grace- 
 fully inclined his head, and suffered his lips to 
 
 K 2 
 
196 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 express a courteous but listless smile of general 
 welcome. A fresh whisper was breathed in his 
 ear — new guests were arriving, and the Wil- 
 linghams passed on without further notice. 
 
 Eleanor, perceiving that her sister was dread- 
 fully pale, contrived to lead her behind the 
 crowd of the ball-room, and place her on a 
 seat ; while Lady Maria, on Mr. Lorimer^s arm, 
 proceeded into the midst of the fray, to conceal 
 her mortification in affected volubility ; to fan 
 herself, exclaiming against the heat of the room ; 
 and to look anxiously around her for some of her 
 Neapolitan or Calmersfield acquaintance. 
 
 But it would not do ! Mr. Russell stood 
 bowing and displaying to her, from an awful 
 distance, the double range of his pearly 
 teeth; the reinstated Mr. Bentley, who was 
 flirting to desperation with a highly rouged 
 foreigner, remarkable from her very bare shoul- 
 ders, gave her the recognition of a familiar nod 
 as she passed ; and half a dozen Ladyships in- 
 terrupted their gossipry to lisp, " My dear 
 Lady Maria, how long have you been in town? — 
 what an insufferable crowd !" but no anxiety — 
 no homage — no eager inquiries — no allusion to 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 197 
 
 her charming daughters : — they evidently cared 
 for her as little as if Claudia were already 
 married to a stock-broker, and settled in 
 Bedford-square, 
 
 Frederick Lorimer meanwhile, who was utterly 
 unsuspicious of her Ladyship's schemes, and 
 their frustration, and who was tolerably un- 
 versed in the conventional value of a Duke in 
 Dowager estimation, calculating his Grace of 
 Lisborough's importance rather according to 
 his battues and stud of hunters, than to hia 
 family diamonds and hereditary precedence, 
 became extremely anxious to get rid of hia 
 loquacious companion, in order that he might 
 obtain Eleanor's hand for the first quadrille, 
 preparations for which were now audible from 
 the orchestra. After sundry manoeuvres, he 
 managed to settle Lady Maria into an arm 
 chair, and an unavoidable prose with the De 
 Vesci wife of an Irish Archbishop ; and instantly 
 flew in search of her daughters. 
 
 Claudia and Eleanor were now seated in 
 view of the whole room, on either side of Lady 
 Robeit Lorton, who was striving to entertain 
 them with her most graceful and affectionate 
 
198 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 attentions. Although unsuspicious of the full 
 extent of Lady Maria Willingham's presump- 
 tuous expectations, she felt convinced that her 
 young friends must have been mortified by the 
 manner of their reception. She had a personal 
 partiality for both, and was, moreover, of too 
 generous a spirit to bear with patience that any 
 one's feelings should be sacrificed to a family 
 manoeuvre. But while Frederick was forming 
 his engagements with Eleanor, who declined 
 dancing so early in the evening. Lady Gray- 
 field herself came up to the little group with 
 the utmost cordiality; and relaxing from her 
 usual habits of dignity, insisted that Claudia 
 should take her arm, and parade the whole 
 suite of state apartments, to which they were 
 now introduced for the first time. Her sister 
 remained with Lady Robert and her new ad- 
 mirer; and as she noticed the affectionate 
 patronage with which Lady Grayfield ushered 
 Claudia through the throng, introducing her to 
 this person and that, and pointing out to her 
 attention the principal objects oivirtil adorning 
 the saloon, she became satisfied that her Lady- 
 ship had dismissed all jealous apprehensions 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS, 199 
 
 from her mind. She saw, in a moment, that 
 Claudia's chance of Duchesship was over. 
 
 In a very few minutes the whole mysteiy 
 was explained. The burst of Michau's well- 
 accorded band resounded from the gallery, and 
 in a moment the Duke of Lisborough was 
 seen leading the waltz with a very fair, young, 
 timid, simple-looking girl — decidedly English in 
 her air and attire — totally devoid of pretension, 
 and with symptoms of the nursery still clinging 
 to her personal appearance. She danced ill, and 
 appeared embarrassed by the publicity of her 
 situation; yet, when they paused, the Duke 
 '* hung over her enamoured " — whispered in her 
 ear — and treated her with all those tender dis- 
 tinctions which he had recently bestowed upon 
 Claudia Willingham. The thing was evident 
 enough. She was his last engouement ! 
 
 " Who is that very interesting girl? " inquired 
 Eleanor, assuming an air of candour, and some- 
 what ungraciously interrupting Lady Robert in 
 her details of a fall from her horse, which she 
 had either had, or expected to have, or been 
 apprehensive of having, in the park that morn- 
 ing. 
 
200 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 " Which interesting girl ? — I am looking upon 
 a legion of angels in blonde and white satin." 
 
 '* With whom the Duke of Lisborough is 
 dancing ? " 
 
 " Let me see — let me see ; who has he se- 
 lected for his partner ? " said Lady Robert, lift- 
 ing her glass to her listless eye, and advancing 
 her graceful head through an interstice of the 
 crowd ; " Oh, that is Lady Anastasia Burgoyne, 
 a niece of the late Lord Grayfield's* Extremes 
 meet, you know, my dear Eleanor : by which 
 rule Lisborough — having been in love last week 
 with your sister, and her tact, and elegance, and 
 accomplishments — is just now desperately cap- 
 tivated by yonder little ladyship's girlish niai- 
 serie, which he chooses to call 7ia'ivetL He talks 
 about her uncontaminated mind and beautiful 
 simplicity, and the charm of being a first object 
 of attachment to such a spotless heart ! '* 
 
 " And what says' our friend. Lady Grayfield, 
 to all this ? " inquired Eleanor, after having 
 ascertained, by a furtive glance, that her new 
 adorer had been tempted from her side by the 
 excitement of the music, and the scene, and the 
 circling waltz. 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 201 
 
 " Why, I rather suspect that Charlotte cun- 
 ningly let slip this new quarry in his path, 
 purposely to give a novel impulsion to his 
 feelings." 
 
 " She would, then, approve his union with 
 Lady Anastasia ? " 
 
 " She would approve his union with no one : 
 she chooses herself to play Queen Margaret ta 
 his Francis the First. No, no ! Lady Anastasia 
 is notoriously engaged to her young cousin. Lord 
 Vallerhurst, or she would not be permitted to 
 whisper unmolested in Lisborough's ear, as she 
 is doing at this very moment." 
 
 " Engaged!'* thought Eleanor ; "then, after 
 all, there may yet remain some hope for poor 
 Claudia." 
 
 " Last night," resumed Lady Robert Lorton, 
 *' at a little impromptu ball at the Ducie's, 
 Charlotte was congratulating me that the Duke 
 had formed so safe an attachment; which would 
 preserve him, she said, from other perils. I 
 am pretty sure she alluded to your sister; but 
 I affected not to understand her ; and, by way 
 of affronting her and the Burgoynes, who are 
 nearly akin to her late husband, I assured her 
 
 K 3 
 
202 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 there was a report at the clubs that Lord Bur- 
 goyne had sent over a commission to Torlonia, 
 the banker at Rome — where Lord Vallerhurst is 
 completing his education — to hire bravos, and 
 waylay him in the Campagna." 
 
 " And stiletto him in due process ? ** 
 
 " In order that the old betrothment might 
 not interfere with his silly little daughter's 
 present views of becoming Duchess of Lisbo- 
 rough.'* 
 
 " At which insinuation Lady Grayfield 
 laughed, of course ? " 
 
 " By no means ; she looked extremely serious 
 for half an hour ; and at length only comforted 
 herself with the reflexion that she should be 
 able to manage her own step-niece, Anastasia, 
 far better than a Claudia Willingham. Poor 
 Charlotte! she is pursued by the furies like 
 Orestes — perpetually haunted by the phantom of 
 dear Lisborough's marriage ! And now tell me 
 who was that tall, dark-eyed admirer of your's, 
 to whom you were so barbarous just now ? " 
 
 " A second son of Lord Lorimer's. And 
 even with i/our romantic enthusiasm, dearest 
 Lady Robert, I trust you will sanction any de- 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTEKS. 203 
 
 gree of barbarity I may put in force against a 
 paltiy younger brother." 
 
 " Certainly, love ! certainly ! unless he chance 
 to have a sister as vigilant as Charlotte Gray- 
 iield, who will take care that the head of the 
 family never anchors, or wrecks himself upon 
 the sunken rock of matrimony." 
 
 Mr. Russell, perceiving that the Willingham 
 dynasty was not yet wholly degraded, and that 
 Eleanor appeared to be very high in the graces 
 of the exclusive yet popular Lady Robert Lorton, 
 now approached to tender his tardy compliments 
 of inquiry; to utter his sentimental reminis- 
 cences touching the musical soirees of Calmers- 
 field, and his anticipations of archery meetings 
 there for the ensuing summer. Even the Duke 
 of Lisborough proved himself to be sensible of 
 the influence of general admiration, by follow- 
 ing the outstretched finger of the crowd. Clau- 
 dia Willingham's loveliness, even with the draw- 
 back of an unusual air of languor and vexation, 
 had excited the strongest interest, as she passed 
 through the rooms on Lady Grayfield's arm; 
 and no sooner had he found all the young lord- 
 lings of the day crowding around him to solicit 
 
204 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 the honour of a presentation to the new beauty, 
 and discovered, by fatal experience, that Lady 
 Anastasia waltzed detestably, and conversed 
 with more ingenuousness than ingenuity, than 
 he condescended to claim the honour of Miss 
 Willingham's hand. 
 
 He addressed her, however, neither as a 
 bridegroom nor a lover, but " talked of opera, 
 park, and play" after the most approved 
 fashion of partnership commonplace; and by 
 this conduct, poor Claudia was more hurt and 
 more mortified than if he had withdrawn his 
 notice altogether. She might, in that case, 
 have believed him to be offended ,* — as it was, 
 she could only recognize him as indifferent, or 
 insultingly capricious. 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS, 205 
 
 CHAPTER X, 
 
 Her lore — like violets breathing 'neatli a thorn- 
 Seems but the sweeter for companionship 
 With aught so dark — so harsh — so cruel ! Love 
 Which, like Eastern gums by pilgrims offered ; 
 Upon a holy shrine, yields its soft odours 
 With an expiring breath, ,, 
 
 Marlow, 
 
 Mary Willingham, who had already entered 
 her twentieth year, had nevertheless remained 
 guiltless up to that fatal sixth of May, of all the 
 ordinary manoeuvres of young ladies of her age ; 
 and unmolested by the sweet sensibilities which 
 render the pillow sleepless, and the common 
 business of life importunate. On returning from 
 Lady Lorimer's party, however, she had some- 
 
206 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTEES. 
 
 what prematurely dismissed her maid — whose 
 care in disposing the satin folds within the ward- 
 robe and the necklace in the trinket-box, had 
 never before appeared so superfluous — in order 
 that she might moisten her papillotes with a few 
 tears; while the officious attendant, who had 
 already ascertained from the footman the care 
 with which Sir William Wyndham had handed 
 her young lady to the carriage, and who, with 
 waiting-maid sagacity, had immediately disco- 
 vered her discomposure, retreated to her own 
 aerial donnitory, under the satisfactory convic- 
 tion that Miss Willingham had returned home 
 with a proposal still echoing in her ears. 
 
 Meanwhile, poor Mary wept, even while she 
 blushed at her own tears. She accused herself 
 of a very indecorous weakness in this iiTepres- 
 sible emotion ; she reviled herself as mean, en- 
 vious, and contemptible; and after forming a 
 praiseworthy resolution, to think no more of 
 Frederick Lorimer, and to cherish no unkind 
 feeling against her cousin Eleanor, she retired 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS, 207 
 
 to rest, and dreamt of him till morning ; when 
 she awoke in the hysteric agony of tearing the 
 white wreath from her rival's snowy brows ! 
 
 Unfortunately, she had to encounter a stormy 
 breakfast-table. Lady Willingham was fretting 
 Under the reminiscent afflictions of two lost rub- 
 bers of the night before ; and Sir Joseph, who 
 had been perusing two descriptive columns in 
 the Morning Post, illustrating the Duke of Lis- 
 borough's ball, and enumerating his partners, 
 could scarcely smother his vexation that '^ the 
 fascinating and lovely Miss Willingham," who 
 had such honourable mention in the recital, was 
 not a daughter of his own. He could not for- 
 give Lady Maria, with her paltry twelve hun- 
 dred a-year — and, moreover, as his own pen- 
 sioner to a still meaner amount — for having 
 achieved a distinction unpurchaseable by his 
 annual thousands ! 
 
 Mary perceived their peevishness in a mo- 
 ment ; but it only urged her to a double effort 
 in conquering her own secret despondency. She 
 
208 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 possessed that exquisite art — but, no ! it was 
 not an art — nothing in Mary was an art — that 
 exquisite impulse of nature, which teaches the 
 suggestion of every image and every association 
 most capable of affording pleasure to an auditor. 
 She pointed out to her mother's notice the beau- 
 tiful flowers — the firstlings of summer, which 
 had been forwarded that morning from the Hed- 
 deston conservatory ; she asked her father's per- 
 mission to share his afternoon ride, and pro- 
 posed a visit to Minnie, as an object for their 
 expedition; and she spoke with such gentle 
 submissiveness, and endured with such silent 
 forbearance their fractious negatives, that Sir 
 Joseph and his lady rose from their third cup 
 of tea, with brows less ruffled, and with hearts 
 less biliously sensitive to the minor woes of life. 
 A thorn still rankled, indeed, in poor Mary's 
 bosom; but she was little accustomed to in- 
 dulge in pondering over her own personal griev- 
 ances. 
 
 " Here is that tiresome old Lady Monteagle," 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 209 
 
 exclaimed Lady Willingham, as she left the 
 breakfast-table. " If Dowagers will take early 
 airings, at least they might refrain from prema- 
 ture morning-visits. Mary, my dear, come with 
 me into the drawing-room : I cannot deny my- 
 self, for I am sure she caught a glimpse of my 
 cap.'* 
 
 " I dare say Lady Monteagle saw my cousin's 
 name among the guests at Lisborough House; 
 and fancying it to be mine, is come to inquire 
 if Stapylford were there." 
 
 ''Stapylford ! You are dreaming; — Mr. Sta- 
 pylford is at Oxford.*' 
 
 "Nominally, dear Mamma. But Charles 
 writes me word he retains his rooms at Mivart's, 
 and runs up to town for all the best fetes and 
 fashionable races. His mother is now confined 
 at home by Lord Stapylford's illness ; and I am 
 persuaded she often commissions Lady Mont- 
 eagle to cross-examine me concerning her son, 
 whose proceedings she imagines we must learn 
 from my brother." 
 
210 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 ''And bad as those proceedings are, she has 
 nobody but herself to thank for his irregulari- 
 ties. Stapylford has a good disposition, and 
 had he been brought up as Charles has been, 
 might have turned out an honour to his family." 
 
 On reaching the drawing-room, they found 
 that the Dowager was not unaccompanied. 
 Lady Maria was with her, and began express- 
 ing to Mary her extreme regret that her daugh- 
 ters had found themselves too much fatigued 
 by their ball, to leave home so early ; her own 
 principal motive, indeed, for such an untimely 
 visit had been to inquire after her niece, whom 
 she announced to have been looking very pale 
 and ill the night before. 
 
 Lady Willingham, rather startled by this intel- 
 ligence, fixed her eyes upon her daughter's face; 
 which was now dyed of so deep a crimson that 
 she abandoned her momentary intention of send- 
 ing for Sir Henry Halford. Lady Maria's ostensible 
 motive of politeness being thus fairly disposed of, 
 she proceeded, under its screen, to the real busi- 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 211 
 
 ness of her singular pre-animation ; to discover, 
 namely — whether Lady Willingham purposed 
 attending the drawing-room ,• a measure which, 
 when she found it had been previously deter- 
 mined, she very strongly recommended. The 
 fact however was, that she had long intended 
 to present her daughters, and had fully in- 
 tended to borrow Sir Joseph's equipage for the 
 occasion. She was secure of the loan of Lady 
 Monteagle's or Mrs. De Vesci's ; but she had 
 persuaded herself that the family carriage, 
 bearing the Willingham liveries and aims, 
 would appear more exclusively her own. 
 
 But she had still another latent intention; 
 and as soon as the Dowager had engaged Lady 
 Willingham's attention with one of her run- 
 ning-pattern monologues upon the costume, 
 equipages, entertainments, habits, and customs 
 of the last century — upon Ranelagh, Garrick, 
 Delpini, Sir Joshua, and the riots of eighty — 
 Lady Maria affected to be fascinated by the 
 beauty and variety of Mary's collection of heaths ; 
 
212 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 and drawing her to the marble table on which 
 they stood, began to require all sorts of botani- 
 cal explanations. 
 
 *' And this lovely plant, you say, is the Erica 
 Latifolia ? — and this the Gracilis ? My girls 
 were quite vexed, Mary, that they could not 
 procure half an hour's gossip with you ; but they 
 are nursing themselves for to-night — Lady Ko- 
 bert Lorton chaperones them both to the opera. 
 Pray let me attempt to decypher the tiny label 
 upon this beautiful plant — ' the Erica Si-n-en- 
 sis/ Young Lorimer, I find, is an intimate 
 friend and schoolfellow of your brother's ? (And 
 you tell me these heaths should only be watered 
 twice or thrice a week ?) Pray is he Lord Lori- 
 mer's second or third son ? — and what sort of a 
 young man is the eldest?" 
 
 *' Frederick is a second son ; and Mr. Lori- 
 mer is expected to become a very distinguished 
 man, as I believe I mentioned to you before ; he 
 took a brilHant degree, and came into Parlia- 
 ment this very session. Independently of his 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 213 
 
 rank and fortune, he will probably make a great 
 figure in public life." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it; for they are near 
 connexions of my own, and a family which I 
 highly respect. Lady Lorimer appears to be a 
 mere good sort of woman ; and her husband one 
 of those stately machines of courtly wood, made 
 to do honour to a star and garter. My dear 
 Maiy, your conservatory at Heddeston must be 
 considerably increased to display these lovely 
 exotics. But, in fact, it requires the eye of the 
 master, or rather, the eye of the mistress, to 
 produce any thing creditable in the way of 
 flowers ; and in my time, we never had a gar- 
 dener of sufficient science to engage my atten- 
 tion in the business. Frederick Lorimer has, 
 of course, no expectations beyond his father's 
 interests, and a younger brother's portion?" 
 
 " Not that I am aware of." 
 
 " There is very often a maternal grandfather, 
 or a bachelor uncle, or an old maiden god- 
 mother, who takes pity on those wretched mar- 
 
214 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 tyrs of the creation ; but in that case a double 
 surname generally forewarns one. I thought it 
 augured ill when I heard this young man pre- 
 sented as only Mr. Frederick Lorimer. Had I 
 been blest, or oppressed, with such a supernu- 
 merary appendage as a second son, I certainly 
 would have had him christened Mr. Howard 
 Willingham, or Mr. De Vesci Willingham, by 
 way of helping him through his undeserved 
 misfortunes. It is inflicting an unnecessary 
 degree of infamy upon a poor young man to call 
 him Mr. John, or Mr. Thomas." 
 
 Her Ladyship again adverted to the stand of 
 heaths, as she made her way back to the 
 scene of dialogue between the Dowager and 
 the dummy; and Mary was so utterly unpre- 
 pared to suspect the existence of artifice, or 
 to imagine the necessity of manoeuvring where 
 no field of action courted conquest, that she 
 actually fancied her aunt had been smitten 
 with a genuine admiration of her plants ; and 
 immediately proceeded to dismember them 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 215 
 
 of their choicest flowers in order to form a 
 bouquet for her cousins' appearance at the 
 Opera. 
 
 " What an absurd thing/* exclaimed Lady 
 Maria to Lady Monteagle, as they drove back 
 to Seymour-street, settling the fragrant nose- 
 gay in the pocket of the carriage as she spoke ; 
 " what a very unnecessary exertion on the 
 part of Lady Willingham to go to the drawing- 
 room ! With an ugly and unfashionized daugh- 
 ter, obscure connexions, and bad health, I 
 think she might spare herself the attempt; 
 which, after all, will gain her nothing. She 
 has not the least chance of being included 
 in any royal invitation ; nor has she any family 
 relationship to keep up, or to maintain her own 
 dignity." 
 
 ** The Willinghams are a very ancient Kent- 
 ish family,'* replied Lady Monteagle, who, 
 being herself a Baronet's daughter, rebelled 
 against the suggestion ; " and belong to a class 
 which has always been found a main support 
 
216 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 to the Sovereign and the Constitution. Charles — 
 my grandson Stapylford's friend — will probably, 
 one day, represent the county." 
 
 " Possibly ! but they are not going to pre- 
 sent him at the drawing-room. And as to 
 poor Mary, she is quite a Bodham in coun- 
 tenance and gesture. I should recommend her 
 to marry some clergyman with a good living, 
 within distance of Heddeston; for she will 
 never make a creditable match. She is totally 
 unfit for London society." 
 
 " Our neighbour, Sir William Wyndham, 
 has proposed for her twice ; and he has twenty 
 thousand a-year, and the reversion of a peerage." 
 
 " Indeed ! and she had the imprudence to 
 refuse such an offer ! I remember Wyndham 
 Park; I have a very great respect for the 
 family; the present Baronet was a charming- 
 boy, but I have quite lost sight of him. You 
 must make us acquainted, my dear Lady 
 Monteagle; old neighbours you know should 
 never cease to be friends. The first time we 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 217 
 
 dine in Hereford-street, pray oblige me by 
 persuading Lady Dynevour to invite Sir Wil- 
 liam Wyndham/' 
 
 " He has dined with us twice this year, 
 and we never exceed a given number of invi- 
 tations to the Whig interest. It might look odd 
 in the county, you know; and make people 
 talk. And now, my dear Lady Maria — pray 
 tell me — you were at Lisborough House last 
 night, and of course saw Stapylford ? '* 
 
 " I do not know Mr. Stapylford, by sight." 
 
 " My dear Ma'am, he is the constant com- 
 panion of your nephew." 
 
 " I should not know my nephew, were I to 
 meet him in any place of public amusement. 
 Your Ladyship forgets how long I have been 
 abroad, and how much young men alter." 
 
 " Well, had you chanced to see Montague 
 Stapylford, I think you could not have failed 
 to ask his name. He is certainly the finest 
 young man in town, and the most fascinating ; 
 and if he is not ruined, or shot in a duel 
 
 VOL. I. L 
 
218 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 before he comes of age, I venture to predict that 
 he will turn half the heads in London. It is a 
 grievous thing — a very grievous thing, my dear 
 Lady Maria ! — that young man, you know, 
 is heir to an ancient peerage and a clear thirty 
 thousand a year; but he is already in the 
 hands of the Jews; and if his father should 
 die, there can be little doubt that he would 
 be ruined in a month; ay, and break his 
 poor mother's heart into the bargain." 
 
 " My dear Lady Monteagle ! You see things 
 too much on the dark side ! Pray how old is 
 Mr. Stapylford?" 
 
 " Just eighteen ; but he has been as good or 
 rather as had as his own master, these tv/ o vears 
 past — has already exposed himself in a thou- 
 sand ways ; — ^indeed I must say, that had it not 
 been for Charles Willingham, he would have 
 been already expelled both Eton and Oxford." 
 
 ''Very much to my nephew's credit.'* 
 
 " Oh ! if Charles were not rather too much 
 of a saint, and dreadfully ugly, he would be a 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 219 
 
 charming young man. Stapylford has lived 
 so much with me, that they have been brought 
 up together more like neighbours' children than 
 any thing else ; but the fact of the matter and 
 the true secret is, that vounai: Willins^ham has 
 nothing to gain by my grandson — wants nothing 
 from Stapylford, you know, my dear Lady 
 Maria : whereas the young men with whom he 
 chiefly associates are considerably older than 
 himself, and look upon him as a sort of natural 
 prey. They negociate for him with the Jews, 
 because they are aware they shall profit by the 
 produce of the loan ; — they arrange the purchase 
 of his horses, because they know they shall ride 
 them; — and urge him to give dinners at the 
 Clarendon, with an eye to the reduction of their 
 own coffee-house bills. Now there is young 
 Tichborne, the Duke of Arlington's" nephew, 
 who, to my knowledge, has only an allowance 
 of a hundred and fifty pounds a-year; upon 
 which he keeps five hunters, and indulges in a 
 thousand expensive vices. He is just so much 
 
 L 2 
 
220 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 older than Stapylford, and so much favoured in 
 society, as to form his model ; and, by way of 
 gratitude, I suppose, Montague defrays the cost 
 of his follies as well as his own." 
 
 "Well — well! my dear Lady Monteagle," 
 replied Lady Maria with an air of vague ab- 
 straction, for she could interest herself in none 
 but her personal distresses; "all that sort of 
 thing will work its own cure. His father, you 
 know, was very wild till he married Miss Mar- 
 garet." 
 
 " Till he married ? Ah ! my dear Madam, 
 few people know what my daughter Margaret 
 has had to go through ! She has been a victim 
 to Lord Stapylford's dissipation." 
 
 Lady Maria, who had known her for fifteen 
 years as the most fashionable flirt and deter- 
 mined ball-giver in London, tried to look cre- 
 dulous and sympathising. 
 
 "A husband on the turf, and half a dozen 
 executions in the house, form a considerable 
 bar to domestic happiness ! " 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 221 
 
 '* Half a dozen executions ! why, then, Mr. 
 Stapylford — ^between his own extravagance and 
 his father's — will come into a veiy limited 
 inheritance ! " exclaimed Lady Maria, in whose 
 mind a remote plan had already begun to form 
 itself on the young Oxonian's account. 
 
 " Pardon me, my dear Madam ! Montague 
 is in the entail of his uncle Lord Waterville's 
 property ; — to say nothing of any little pittance 
 I may have it in my own power to bequeath 
 him," replied the Dowager, swelling with im- 
 portance. " But here we are in Seymour-street, 
 I protest. I was going to ask you, as this is 
 Saturday and an idle evening, if your Ladyship 
 and the young ladies would favour me by taking 
 a cup of tea in Hereford-street? " 
 
 Lady Maria, who had as much taste for the 
 operation called " taking a cup of tea " as for 
 taking a cup of hellebore, was delighted to feel 
 herself handsomely provided with an excuse. 
 " A thousand thanks, dearest Lady Monteagle ! 
 you are always so kind and considerate; — 
 
222 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 and nothing would have given the girls so much 
 pleasure as to pass a snug comfortable evening 
 with you. But most unfortunately they have 
 engaged themselves to accompany Lady Robert 
 Lor ton to the Opera/' 
 
 "Humph ! " ejaculated the Dowager, with a 
 lowering brow. *^ Lady Robert Lorton ! — now 
 you know, my dear Lady Maria, you and I are 
 old neighbours and friends ; and I have, there- 
 fore, no hesitation in savins; a word or two to 
 you in the way of confidential advice. Be- 
 ware of that Lady Robert Lorton ! She is a 
 very — very — unsafe companion for your daugh- 
 ters.^' 
 
 " You really alarm me ! — any thing affecting 
 her character ? " 
 
 " Character ? Why not exactly ; but she is 
 one of the most giddy, inconsiderate, frivolous 
 little creatures in the world ! The habits of 
 her house are extravagant beyond all belief, 
 and will render your girls extremely discon- 
 tented with home. And then, although she 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 223 
 
 does not commit herself by any gross breach of 
 decorum, she has acquired the character, in 
 gentlemen *s society, of being so vastly agreeable 
 and fascinating, that we know she must have 
 purchased her popularity by certain sacrifices 
 to a certain extent ! " 
 
 Lady Maria knew no such thing; but she 
 did know that Lady Robert was the successful 
 rival of Lady Stapylford in the heau monde, and 
 that she had declined Lady Dynevour's visits as 
 being a bore of unequalled magnitude; — and 
 formed her conclusions accordingly. 
 
 ^* How thoughtful — ^how obliging of you to put 
 me on my guard ! Depend on it, my dear Lady 
 Monteagle, I will keep my eye upon all this ! 
 My poor unsuspecting girls have taken a prodi- 
 gious fancy for her ; and it would be imprudent 
 to irritate either her or them by a premature rup- 
 ture ; by degrees, however, I shall wean them 
 from her society. Farewell ! I shall look in and 
 inquire after your Ladyship's rheumatism to- 
 morrow, in returning from church.'* 
 
224 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 Lady Maria Willingham ti.pped gaily from 
 the carriage, and flew to her daughters' dressing- 
 room J where, after recounting the ill success of 
 her mission, and the impertinence projected by 
 Lady Willingham of appearing at the drawing- 
 room in her own carriage, she passed full half 
 an hour in demonstrating to them the value of 
 Lady Robert Lortoii's acquaintance. " Putting 
 the Duke quite out of the question, my dear 
 Claudia — and although Lady Grayfield's plan 
 is a mere feint, I am convinced we shall make 
 nothing of him — but putting the Duke of 
 Lisborough wholly out of the question, I am 
 convinced Lady Robert's friendship will form a 
 most important resource to you. You see, my 
 dears, she has no daughters to interfere with 
 your interests; she is a little giddy woman,- 
 whose agreeable society attracts a circle of the 
 best men ; and she is wise enough to know that 
 two very pretty lively girls will materially 
 enhance the charm of her coterie, without 
 prejudicing her own influence. The sort of men 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 225 
 
 who flirt with married women have nothing to 
 say to young ladies; and regular, heir-appa- 
 rent, ten-thousand-a-year, domestic men — such 
 as of course you would wish to ally yourselves 
 with — may be found in Lady Robert's circle, 
 although they would never entangle themselves 
 in any silly affair of mere gallantry." 
 
 " Lady Robert has written since you have 
 been out, Mamma, to beg that Claudia and I 
 will dine with her to-day without ceremony; 
 and, as she has offered to call for us, we have 
 accepted the invitation." 
 
 " Quite right — quite right ! I will take the 
 opportunity to pay off a bore-debt by dining 
 with the General. Quite right ! under all the 
 circumstances it will be extremely creditable to 
 us to be seen on an intimate footing with the 
 Duke's sister-in-law ; besides she would scarcely 
 invite you, unless some advantageous men were 
 of the party ; and there is no occasion on which 
 a girl may make herself appear to so much 
 advantage in the eyes of a marrying man, as a 
 
 L3 
 
226 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 dinner. In the style of your conversation, my 
 dear girls, always keep in mind the tone which 
 ?«iight be supposed to suit a liberal country 
 Household — the tone which might give a man 
 an idea of your being calculated to do justice 
 to the honours of his house, without neglecting 
 his own domestic comfort." 
 
 " Yes, Mamma !" said Claudia mildly. " And 
 always to ask his opinion instead of giving our 
 own." 
 
 " Oh ! v/e are tolerably versed in our lesson," 
 exclaimed Eleanor, half sarcastically. " We 
 always talk of the happiness of our little fire- 
 side circle, and the difficulty of tearing our- 
 selves away from home. Home /" she reiterated 
 in a bitter tone, gazing round the shabby 
 limits of their little chamber. " But while we 
 are discussing these tactics, we forget that it 
 is time to dress ; and if we neglect that im- 
 portant ceremony, all these fine sentiments will 
 turn to very poor account !" 
 
 And so saying, she proceeded to entwine 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 227 
 
 Mary Willingham's heaths into her glossy black 
 hair; with due deference to Frederick Lori- 
 mer's decision in favour of the form of Grecian 
 heads. 
 
228 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Vous, infidele, avec votre air Sucre, 
 Vous m'avez fait ce tour premature ; 
 De votre cceur I'inconstance est precoce, 
 
 Voltaire. 
 
 Lady Robert Lorton's coterie was of a 
 description more rare in London than in Paris ; 
 and perhaps more rare in modern Paris than 
 in that of the ancien regime. Possessed of a 
 character of elegance and refinement essentially 
 different from the stately splendours of Lis- 
 borough House, it was distinguished by a cer- 
 tain tone of freedom and independence wholly 
 untainted by dissoluteness ; — by a slight tinge 
 of literary taste utterly distinct from pedantry; — 
 and by a degree of exclusiveness and selection 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 229 
 
 SO superior to the common-place affectation of 
 finery y that it created no offence even among 
 the excluded. It was formed, in short, by 
 some half a dozen women of fashion, chiefly 
 married ones — and somewhat more than twice 
 that number of the opposite sex. These were 
 selected neither from their rank, fortune, 
 beauty, nor wisdom, but from a happy and 
 moderate combination of all such qualifica- 
 tions; — or, to define the talismanic requisite 
 for admission in one comprehensive word, they 
 were valued in proportion to their power of 
 being agreeable. 
 
 Persons of the most eminent virtue are often- 
 times extremely tiresome ; persons both wise 
 and learned are frequently ill-tempered and 
 peevish in their disposition; and persons dis- 
 tinguished by the length of their parchments — 
 whether of pedigree or rent-roll — are occasion- 
 ally remarkable from their vulgarity of mind 
 and address. An agreeable personage is one 
 incapable of these faults ; — one who, if wanting 
 
230 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 in the primar}^ qualities recorded, is possessed 
 of good gifts which atone for the deficiency. 
 Lady Robert herself was noble, rich, lovely, 
 witty, amiable, and eminently agreeable; and 
 each among her numerous friends, if less uni- 
 versally qualified, was endowed with the latter 
 gift, and at least one among the former. Even 
 Lord Robert appeared to moderate his faults on 
 entering the magic circle of his home ; he was 
 aware that his selfishness would meet with no 
 sympathy or encouragement, and he wisely 
 exerted his better powers to suppress or at 
 least to conceal the defect. 
 
 In society of this description, Claudia and 
 Eleanor Willingham found ready acceptance ; 
 their beauty, and elegance, and accomphsh- 
 ments were duly appreciated ; and as they were 
 cunning enough to keep their pretensions out 
 of sight, they provoked neither envy nor oppo- 
 sition. There was not one of this chosen set 
 who would not have rejoiced at Claudia's union 
 with the Duke of Lisborough ; — first, to mortify 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 231 
 
 Lady Grayfield, who was regarded as mean and 
 intractable and narrow-minded; and next, to 
 attach his Grace more particularly to their own 
 circle, with all his mighty capabilities of in- 
 creasing its stock of pleasures and enjoyments. 
 They were well aware of his dulness and solem- 
 nity ; but then his unique mansion in town — his 
 beautiful country-seat and delicious villa — con- 
 ferred even upon him the power of being agree- 
 able. His high-breeding and goodnature were 
 also qualities of no mean account in the calcu- 
 lation. 
 
 Lady Robert's dinner-party was confined to 
 two or three men ; — not advantageous men, as 
 specified by Lady Maria's maternal solicitudes — 
 but middle-aged personages, with a certain in- 
 come to maintain a position in society, and leave 
 the vulgar cares of life out of sight; — ^who, 
 from their currency in the fashionable world, 
 had always a fund of novelties to contribute to 
 the joint stock of general discourse, without 
 affecting the odious colloquial displays of what 
 
232 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 is called a conversation-man; — whose good 
 breeding was powerful to disguise, where it 
 could not repress, ill-temper ; — who were always 
 ready, in short, to amuse and to be amused. 
 Her opera-box was visited, but not crowded, 
 by several of the younger male members of 
 her own coterie ; men of rank and fashion and 
 elegance, who came without undue eagerness, 
 and departed without ceremony ; — not to flirt — • 
 not to affect elaborate efforts of wit and gaiety — 
 but to recount their own observations of the 
 day, and to interest themselves in those of Lady 
 Robert Lor ton. It was evident, from their ease 
 of mind and manners, that the society to which 
 they belonged was well organized — matched in 
 mouth after the fashion of the hounds in 
 Theseus, 
 
 Like bells each under each. 
 
 The loss of a single member of this little knot 
 of associates must manifestly have become the 
 origin of discord. 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 233 
 
 " We shall sup with Lady Barringhurst," 
 whispered Lady Robert to her young friends, 
 as they were waiting the arrival of the carriage, 
 shortly after the commencement of the ballet. 
 
 " We have not the pleasure of knowing her," 
 replied Eleanor, with some degree of hesitation. 
 
 " She saw you last night at the Duke's, and 
 begged me to bring you. I mentioned the 
 scheme to Lady Maria, who gave her august 
 consent ; and thus I shall have the pleasure of 
 presenting you at once to all my friends." 
 
 Arrived at the scene of action in New Norfolk- 
 street, the Willinghams began to congratulate 
 themselves on the invitation. An elegant, but 
 unostentatious supper-table was prepared with 
 about five-and-twenty covers, and the room was 
 soon filled with the tlite of the elite of London. 
 Lady Barringhurst herself was a woman of 
 about thirty; extremely lovely, but singularly 
 calm and undemonstrative in her countenance 
 and address. 
 
 " I call her my consolation," said Lady Robert 
 
234 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 to Eleanor Willingham. " She has one of 
 those happy dispositions which cannot be per- 
 suaded that any thing wrong or gloomy exists 
 in the world. She sees every thing on its bright 
 side ! Without being insensible or undiscrimi- 
 nating, she is endowed with so gentle a tem- 
 perament, as to be incapable of suspicion or 
 despondency. Whenever I am cross or un- 
 happy, I contrive to seek Lucy Barringhurst's 
 society; and without boring me with persuasions, 
 or arguments, or harangues, she makes me feel 
 that I am to blame, and puts the whole instru- 
 ment in tune in half an hour. After this pre- 
 amble, you will readily believe that her husband 
 and children are the happiest people in the 
 world. Lord Barringhurst is chained to the 
 galley of politics; and being blest with a 
 somewhat clumsy intellect, he is always getting 
 into some public scrape or other, and making 
 himself the badger of the House. Any other 
 man would have been worried into his coffin 
 ten years ago ; but Lucy smooths down his 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 235 
 
 ruffled feathers with so gentle and so unosten- 
 tious a hand, that he scarcely recognizes his 
 misfortunes." 
 
 "A charming character!" observed Eleanor, 
 gazing upon Lady Bamnghurst's swan-like 
 grace and dazzling fairness, as she glided from 
 friend to friend, breathing to each, with invo- 
 luntary discrimination, some surprisingly ac- 
 ceptable phrase or comment. " She appears a 
 most lovely and loveable creature." But Elea- 
 nor's admiration was secretly lavished rather 
 on the charms of her Ladyship's diamond neck- 
 lace than upon those of her disposition ! 
 
 " The bright brunette who has just nov7 
 entered the room," continued Lady Robert, 
 " forms a strange contrast with Lucy's tranquil 
 sweetness. Lady Barringhurst soothes me when 
 I am unhappy; — Mrs. Grandison diverts me 
 when I am dull. She is a living sunbeam — 
 sparkling, and evanescent — a very meteor of 
 brilliant irregularity; — neither her words nor 
 her actions are amenable to calculation; and 
 
236 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 her indifference to public opinion constantly 
 incurs the stigma of levity. She has the kindest 
 heart in the world; yet her sarcastic wit in 
 fastening upon general follies, has often been 
 resented as conveying personal satire. I am 
 rather afraid of her myself; but I confess that 
 no one amuses me half so well. Ah ! here is 
 Sir George Wolryche — that newest and best 
 edition of the Scandalous Chronicle. He tra- 
 duces us all to our very faces, and makes us 
 lauo-h at caricatures of our individual selves." 
 
 " Claudia, I perceive, has met with some of 
 her Calmersfield friends. Is the Duke himself 
 a member of your set ? " 
 
 " Occasionally ; — he would bore us if he 
 came often, and we should bore him ; for poor 
 Lisborough is accustomed to a degree of exclu- 
 sive homage, such as we are very little accus- 
 tomed to pay to any one. I suspect he is 
 coming to-night ; for the set of young men who 
 now surround your sister are the mere pages to 
 our own true knights and esquires ; a tribe of 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 237 
 
 younger brothers, who are too poor to be fine- 
 gentlemen-proper, and are therefore fine-gen- 
 tlemen-reflective. They ape and toady Lisbo- 
 rough, and dine and drive with him accordingly. 
 Henry Mulgrave has a delicious voice, and 
 sings romances; — Sir Comyne Wallace dances 
 like Mercury; — and Lord Cosmo Somerset is 
 the wittiest and readiest of epigrammatists. 
 But stay ! I see a new man among them — 
 Mr. Lorimer — your admirer of last night, I 
 protest! I wish you joy, my dear Eleanor; 
 for although I fear he is a mere objectionable, 
 yet it always gives a girl a certain vogue in her 
 first season to have a presentable man of good 
 family dying for love of her." 
 
 " Mr. Lorimer, however, appears exceedingly 
 disposed to live ; he is at present as animated 
 as your friend, Mrs. Grandison." 
 
 " I beg, my dear, that you will reduce him to 
 Iceland moss without further delay. It is a most 
 impertinent thing in a younger brother to look like 
 a thriving suitor. He is coming this way, and 
 
238 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 I shall go and make my own recognitions at the 
 other end of the room, in order to leave ample 
 space for the massacre." 
 
 Claudia, meanwhile, who was receiving the 
 incense of all the juvenile members of the so- 
 ciety, and looking as surpassingly lovely as a 
 beauty, courted and flattered, generally locks, 
 was astonished to perceive that the entrance of 
 the Duke of Lisborough produced little or no 
 sensation in the room ; that at Lady Barring- 
 hurst's he was only oiie of the party! This 
 singular indifference proceeded from the absence 
 of all manceuvring mammas. From the little 
 coterie, besides herself and her sister, there 
 was but one unmarried woman present; and 
 that one — Lady Barbara Desmond — was her- 
 self so superior — so exquisitely the fashion — so 
 pretty, and animated, and distinguished — that 
 she had nothing to gain from his Grace's at- 
 tentions. She had every possible pretension 
 and qualification to be selected as his Duchess ; 
 and moreover, it was pretty evident that such a 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 239 
 
 selection would have been requited with con- 
 tempt by the most elegant and enjouee little elf 
 that ever wandered from faii*yland ! As to 
 Lady Desmond, she was too fond, both of her 
 daughter's society and of her own amusement, to 
 occupy herself with any matrimonial scheming. 
 
 Mrs. Grandison, who was eminent for that 
 species of lively naivete, which the old and ugly 
 generally translate into coquetry, scon peremp- 
 torily monopolized his Grace's attention, and 
 placed him next to herself at supper ; but by a 
 fortunate coincidence, Claudia Willingham and 
 Sir Comyne Wallace were stationed exactly 
 opposite ; and although the Duke knew that he 
 was too poor to be a marrying man, he also 
 knew that he was accounted the greatest con- 
 noisseur in female beauty among those whose 
 oracles are omniscient in the memorable bay- 
 window in St. James 's-street ; and that the 
 young Baronet was almost as powerful as him- 
 self in conferring the immortalities of fashion 
 upon the object of his adoration. Sir Comyne 
 
240 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 smiled, and the Duke became inattentive to 
 Mrs. Grandison's arts; — Sir Comyne sighed, and 
 his Grace found himself obliged to swallow a glass 
 of iced maraschino; — Sir Comyne whispered, 
 and Claudia blushed in her turn — and the fas- 
 tidious Lisborough was visited by a symptom 
 of jealousy, of rare occurrence to his unsuscep- 
 tible frame; — that burning thrill through the 
 head, which is instantly followed by a chilly 
 and aguish shiver throughout the whole person. 
 The poor Duke was as perplexed as Othello 
 himself ! 
 
 Unversed in similar casualties — wholly un- 
 accustomed to find the object of his choice 
 engrossed by another, Lisborough played but 
 an awkward part in the pageant ; — he had re- 
 course to the obsolete and common-place ma- 
 noeuvre of retaliation. But the stars were in 
 combination against him ; and on turning to- 
 wards his other female neighbour, Lady Bar- 
 bara Desmond, with the intention of a desperate 
 flirtation, such as might prove more alarming 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 241 
 
 to Claudia's pride than his little skirmishes of 
 unmeaning gallantry with Mrs. Grandison, he 
 found the garrison already invested. Her 
 Ladyship was not only engrossed by the unob- 
 trusive adulation of the most enteilaining of 
 younger brothers, Henry Mulgrave, but received 
 his Grace's solemn advances, and ponderous 
 compliments, with an air of the most supercilious 
 indifference. Claudia was avenged ! — and she 
 had the spirit to pursue her advantage, by lis- 
 tening, with her sweetest smiles, to the whis- 
 pered flatteries distilled, on either side, into her 
 ears. She carefully averted her observation 
 from the fickle Duke ; but she suspected, and 
 with justice, that he was equally dissatisfied 
 with her, with Sir Comyne, and with himself. 
 
 Frederick Lorimer, in the mean time, had 
 dexterously secured a chair next to that of 
 Eleanor Willingham; and as she had been 
 conducted to the supper-table by Lord Robert 
 Lorton, he at least had nothing to fear from a 
 rival. 
 
 VOL. I. M 
 
242 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 " Do you often join Lady Barringhurst's par- 
 ties ?" inquired Eleanor. 
 
 '* This is my first appearance here ; and I in- 
 sist upon it that you bestow your patronage on 
 me, in order that I may appear very lively and 
 agreeable, and be invited again. I have given 
 you out as my cousin ; your reputation is, there- 
 fore, in some degree implicated in my suc- 
 cess." 
 
 "I see nothing here to justify any violent 
 effort either on your part or mine. Lady Robert's 
 set of friends is, at least, ten years too old for 
 us ; — no dancing — no music — no animation." 
 
 '^ I have not time to spare for fastidiousness. 
 In a month I shall leave England for a consi- 
 derable period ; and my immediate business is 
 to crowd as much happiness into that space of 
 time as I possibly can. Lady Robert Lorton is 
 your friend ; — at her house, and in her little 
 circle, I shall be secure of seeing youy and I 
 have consequently no happiness to seek else- 
 where." 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 243 
 
 "To what part of the Continent are you 
 bound ? — ^We have friends established in divers 
 countries— can our letters be of any service to 
 you V 
 
 "Do not ask me ! I have already forgotten 
 whither I am going. Three nights ago, I could 
 have enlarged surprisingly upon my tour, its 
 views, and intentions ; — but from last night I 
 date the period of a new existence ; and now I 
 remember nothing but that I am a miserable 
 hopeless younger brother." 
 
 " Your words sound very despondingly ; and 
 yet I see nothing but triumph in your coun- 
 tenance." 
 
 " Indeed !-^how shall I account for the hy- 
 pocrisy of my face which does so little justice 
 to my feelings ?" 
 
 ^* Allow me to unravel the mystery. Your 
 sensations have no twofold power. You are 
 Very happy just now. You have an excellent 
 supper before you ;— ^your Champagne is well- 
 iced ; the society around you is in good humour; 
 
 M 2 
 
244 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 the room is brilliantly lighted and of a comfort- 
 able temperature. — What can you desire more ? 
 By anticipating the penalties of the steam- 
 packet and the dirty inns you are about to en- 
 counter, you would only render yourself uneasy 
 and tiresome ; and / should only have to re- 
 member you as a disagreeable selfish cousin; 
 and rejoice to see Mr. Frederick Lorimer's name 
 announced in the departure list of the Morning 
 Post." 
 
 '^ Thank you — thank you ! I rejoice that 
 you have left me no excuse for being melan- 
 choly — I rejoice that you command me to ' live 
 while I live ;' for, to say the truth, I have no 
 genius for a gentlemanlike despondency. And 
 now will you tell me where you are going next 
 week ; — and whether you will dance with me at 
 Almack's, and at Lady Castleville's ball on 
 Thursday?" 
 
 " At both with pleasure. Men under sen- 
 tence of execution, you know, are always in- 
 dulged in their few last whims. As you are 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 245 
 
 going away, we must do our best to make you 
 regret England." 
 
 General silence was now enjoined ; for the 
 celebrated Taafe — a bard whose vocal, and 
 poetic, and satiric powers would singly suffice 
 to insure his immortality — had been prevailed 
 upon to breathe one of those exquisite melodies 
 which form a distinguishing branch of our na- 
 tional music. This faultless effort was followed 
 by a duet between the poet and Henry Mul 
 grave ; a performance which spoke far more fer 
 vently to the feelings of the audience than any 
 laboured professional exhibition ; and the little 
 party separated with the impression of a most 
 delightful evening to swell the store of their 
 social remembrances. 
 
 Mr. Lorimer, enveloped in his mantle, walked 
 homewards with a lighter step than ever wore 
 out the everlasting granite of London ; mur- 
 muring to himself the last stanza of Mr. Taafe's 
 enchanting ballad; and concealing within his 
 bosom a sprig of heath from Eleanor's nosegay, 
 
246 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 a relic of poor Mary Willingham's good-natured 
 sacrifice. He was as much in love as a young 
 man in his twenty-first year ought always 
 to be. 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 247 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Prenons le maintien d'un homme en place ? 
 
 Picard, 
 
 General DeVesci, the opulent uncle of 
 Lady Maria Willi ngham, was one of those 
 empty, pompous, good-looking, well-intentioned 
 men, who make excellent Governors of Colonies 
 under the influence of a shrewd secretary and 
 learned judge ; provided they have sufficient in- 
 terest in the Cabinet at home to varnish over 
 an occasional blunder; and sufficient tempe- 
 rance of mind to bear with a ministerial reproof 
 or two, conveyed in a private letter. 
 
 The General was a worthy, upright man, in- 
 capable of an ignoble action ; but he had been 
 
248 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 accustomed for so many years to have his move- 
 ments and measures suggested to him by a 
 beetle-browed, quill-in-hand man, whose dis- 
 course was strengthened by inexhaustible argu- 
 ments and precedents, and legal admonitions, 
 that he felt himself exceedingly puzzled on his 
 return to England, after a colonial exile of forty 
 years, to order his own boots or discharge his 
 own butler. 
 
 Under these circumstances, it would have 
 been a merciful interposition had the des- 
 tinies bestowed upon him an active, intelli- 
 gent, managing wife — such, for instance, as 
 his own niece. Lady Maria. But one of those 
 strange inconsistencies, so prevalent in the as- 
 sortments of human wedlock, had matched him 
 with one of the most inert, lazy, dozy, amiable 
 nonentities in the world. It was seldom that 
 poor Mrs. De Vesci appeared thoroughly awake; 
 and if such an appurtenance as a mind had 
 originally been allotted to her, she had certainly 
 mislaid it in her childhood, and passed the re- 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 249 
 
 mainder of her life in learning to dispense with 
 its influence. With her easy-chair, however, 
 her fat lap-dog, and her vinaigrette, she was as 
 happy as a soulless body can be. 
 
 Now this total deficiency of energy was the 
 more remarkable, inasmuch as the sleeping 
 beauty was sprung from a race of human 
 fidgets, who regarded tranquillity, whether moral 
 or physical, as a state of most demoralized 
 stagnation. The Westlands were a very nume- 
 rous family, who were not only in perpetual 
 motion, but all their movements had an ascend* 
 ing impetus. Place a Westland in the pro- 
 found darkness of some bucketless well, and 
 you would have found him in ten minutes 
 standing high and dry beside the brink ; — to use 
 an expression of that sarcastic traveller, Jeffer- 
 son Hogg, " they were always knocking their 
 foreheads against the sky." It was " my 
 brother, the Commissioner" — " my cousin, the 
 Chairman" — " my uncle, the Director" — " my 
 nephew, the Secretary" — it was Sir Thomas 
 
 G 3 
 
250 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 Westland — Sir Robert — Sir Arthur — Sir Hew ! 
 — After these explanations, it is unnecessary to 
 add that the Westlands were a Caledonian 
 clan; that they had risen on each others* 
 shoulders; that the Commissioner underwrote 
 the Director, and the Chairman endorsed the 
 Secretaiy. The legend of the French coin, 
 " Ufiion et Force/' had elevated them into the 
 highest public consideration. 
 
 In allying himself with such a family, Major 
 De Vesci — ^he was then only a poor honourable 
 — had overlooked the temptations of birth and 
 beauty, in favour of those of interest and 
 shrewdness. He felt persuaded that Miss 
 Westland's uncles, cousins, and nephews, would 
 push him on in his profession, and in this he 
 was not disappointed; and that Miss West- 
 land's comely self would prove a stirring, ma- 
 noeuvring, aspiring woman, ready and willing 
 to scold his servants and legislate his affairs. 
 But in this he decidedly reckoned without his 
 hostess. It was fortunate for his love of ease 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 251 
 
 that his rise was sufficiently rapid to afford him 
 the succour of aides-de-camp during the war, 
 and secretaries, clerks, registrars, and particu- 
 larly privy-councillors, during the piping times 
 of peace. Notwithstanding his connexion with 
 the Westland dynasty, government took very- 
 good care that he should have neither oppor^ 
 tunity nor excuse for acting or judging for 
 himself; but he wore his regimentals on public 
 days with a very good grace ; and sat at the 
 head of his table in a manner which proved 
 highly conciliatory to the whole colony. 
 
 Like every human thing beside connected 
 with the house of Westland, General De Vesci, 
 without anxiety and without exertion — nay ! 
 almost insensibly, fou^xd that he had acquired a 
 very handsome fortune by eating currie and 
 drinking salt-petred claret. For forty years 
 these avocations, and the catastrophic curtail- 
 ment of his military pigtail, had been his only 
 exertions; yet, through some error authorized 
 by the genius of finance, he had become pos- 
 
252 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 sessed of vested funds to the amount of ten 
 thousand a-year. The Lieutenant-Governor 
 assured him that it was impossible he could 
 have accumulated so large a sum of money, 
 without at the same time acquiring a liver com- 
 plaint; and having lent, with officious and 
 official cunning, " A Treatise on blue pill,'* to 
 Mrs. De Vesci, the devoted couple soon began 
 to see visions of Cheltenham, and to dream 
 dreams of Portland-place. In process of pur- 
 ser's despatches, the worthy Governor's resig- 
 nation was received and accepted in Downing- 
 street ; and Colonel Document, C. B. — the pro- 
 prietor of the treatise — was appointed to reign 
 in his stead I 
 
 On the arrival of " the good teak country- 
 built ship, the Harry Inglis," in the docks, 
 poor General De Vesci, like most Colonial 
 exiles of forty years standing, found that he 
 had outlived all his family and half his con- 
 temporaries ; and it was not until he had 
 imbibed several ton of the Cheltenham waters. 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 253 
 
 and hailed the return of his niece, Lady Maria, 
 from the Continent, that he could be prevailed 
 upon to bestow his hearty forgiveness upon 
 himself for having followed the crafty Docu- 
 ment's advice. Yet even with this solitary 
 scion of his family tree, he did not feel com- 
 pletely satisfied. He had been so long accus- 
 tomed to the slumberous indolence of Eastern 
 ladies, and to the still more somnolent self- 
 extinction of his domestic partner, that he 
 found Lady Maria's Gallic anhnation fatiguing, 
 and the liveliness of her daughters extremely 
 unbecoming. There were many domestic points 
 too which he could not immediately reconcile 
 to his feelings. Lady Maria had never been 
 able to give a very distinct account of the final 
 destination of a certain yellow parrot which he 
 had formerly sent over to his sister-in-law, her 
 dowager parent ; — and Claudia and Eleanor had 
 taken the liberty, in his presence, of pronounc- 
 ing Atar of Roses to be a plebeian and insup- 
 portable perfume ! 
 
254 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 He was too cordial-hearted, however, to 
 cherish any mahce against the offenders ; and 
 excepting that he could not bribe them to waste 
 as much time as he desired in his gilded desart 
 in Portman-square, he had very little fault to 
 find with the Willinghams. I have said that 
 he was a tall, showy, fine-looking man; and 
 as many of his droppers-in and habitual diners 
 found it their interest to assure him that his 
 handsome nieces exactly resembled him, he 
 soon grew nearly as fond of them as of him- 
 self. As he interfered very little in their per- 
 sonal diversions, and was always prompt to 
 adorn them with a new dress or new necklace 
 for a new fete, Claudia and Eleanor were very 
 well satisfied, meanwhile, to re-pay the General's 
 kindness by walking or riding with him, or by 
 singing Mrs. De Vesci into her habitual even- 
 ing doze. At length, however, as uncles — and 
 particularly rich uncles — will do, he took it into 
 his well-powdered head to grow officious and 
 disagreeable. 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 255 
 
 It were unjust to dlow the responsibility of 
 such a change to rest solely upon his own 
 ex-governatorial shoulders. Although he boast- 
 ed no longer of secretary, or judge advocate, to 
 supply him with motives, yet extrinsic influence 
 was not wanting. He had the whole tribe of 
 Westland to prompt him into action; and as 
 they dined in Portman-square often enough to 
 strengthen their collateral connexion with the 
 Willinghams, they were sufficiently obliging to 
 inscribe the names of his nieces in their own 
 family catalogue ; and to calculate upon Clau- 
 dia's charms among their own ways and means 
 of rising in the world. 
 
 ^' My dear General," observed Sir Hew 
 Westland, the Major General and K.C.B. of 
 the omniscient gang, " are you aware that all 
 London is talking of a marriage between the 
 Duke of Lisborough and the eldest Miss Wil- 
 lingham ? " 
 
 " Mere rumour ! my dear Sir, mere idle 
 rumour, you may rely upon it. My niece 
 
256 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 Lady Maria has been passing the holidays at 
 Calmersfield Park — an occurrence of no espe- 
 cial moment — since the rank of the De Vesci 
 family, and an ancient alliance with the house 
 of Lorton, absolutely entitle her Ladyship to 
 association with his Grace; and this slight 
 coincidence has been magnified by the gossips 
 of London, and the prying impertinence of the 
 newspapers, into a matrimonial connexion.'* 
 
 " Ah !'* interrupted Sir Thomas, the Director, 
 filling his glass with claret as he spoke, " we 
 know how to receive i/our diplomatic explana- 
 tion, General. But the fact is, my dear Sir, 
 the thing is no longer a mystery; and you 
 must therefore allow me to offer my congratu- 
 lations." 
 
 "It is, at least, a mystery to me,'* rejoined 
 the General pompously ; "and if you will inter- 
 rogate your sister, I think she will satisfactorily 
 confirm my explanation. Annabella, my dear ! '* 
 elevating his voice with a view to penetrate 
 poor Mrs. De Vesci's impracticable ears ; " have 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 257 
 
 you any reason to suppose that either of my 
 nieces is under any sort of matrimonial engage- 
 ment?" 
 
 " My dear, did you speak to me ? " 
 
 " The General inquires, sister, whether you 
 are aware that Miss Willingham is going to be 
 married to the Duke of Lisborough ? " 
 
 " I should not be much surprised if she were 
 going to be married to somebody." 
 
 "Certainly not, my dear sister. So lovely 
 a girl — what could be more natural? — But 
 what is your particular reason for expecting 
 such a thing just now ? " 
 
 '^ I beg your pardon." 
 
 "What makes you think that Claudia is 
 engaged ? " inquired the General, very loud, 
 and somewhat angrily. 
 
 " Oh ! nothing, my dear, nothing ! Only 
 she was here this morning, and I was telling 
 her how very uneasy I was all day yesterday 
 about my Angola cat." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
258 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 "And she said— I forgot what it was she 
 said — bat she did not seem to care the least 
 about poor Minette." 
 
 Sir Robert pushed the ponderous decanter im- 
 patiently towards his cousin the Commissioner, 
 who was busy with a very long pinch of snufF. 
 
 ' Seriously, my dear De Vesci, were Jin your 
 place, I should think it my duty to inquire a 
 little into this business. After all, you stand, 
 as it were, m loco parentis to these young 
 women. Lady Maria is a very estimable per- 
 son, but it may be doubted whether she have 
 stamina enough to conduct a negociation of so 
 much delicacy and moment. Women, you 
 know. General — women are too easily swayed by 
 their passions to proceed to business with fitting 
 deliberation ; — and considering the importance 
 of an alliance with the Duke of Lisborough, I 
 think it would have been only respectful and 
 becoming on her Ladyship's part, had she 
 referred herself, in the first instance, to your 
 opinion." 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 259 
 
 "And so she does refer herself to her uncle's 
 opinion," drawlingly interrupted Mrs. De Vesci, 
 who was soaking sponge biscuits for her fat 
 lapdog, " It was but yesterday she was consult- 
 ing him about laying in a stock of East India 
 Madeira ; and the General sent her in twelve 
 dozen this morning — didn't you, General ? " 
 
 " Macclesfield announced half an hour ago, 
 that the candles were lighted in the drawing- 
 room, Annabella," observed the ex-Governor 
 emphatically ; — so emphatically, that Sir Hew 
 arose and opened the dining-room door for the 
 egress of his portly cousin's rustling lustring 
 dress ; while Mrs. De Vesci, with a wine-glass 
 in one hand, and a collection of almonds for her 
 parrot in the other, rolled herself, as if upon 
 castors, out of the room. 
 
 " I certainly consider the matter worth at- 
 tending to," resumed the General, stretching 
 himself, and considerably relieved by her exit. 
 *' Sir Joseph Willingham is a very respectable 
 man. God forbid that I should disparage the 
 
260 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 intellect of a dignitary of the church and an 
 ancient Baronet." (He loved to have a fling at 
 the new-fangled honours of his stupid wife's 
 relations.) *' But after all, Sir Joseph Willing- 
 ham is by no means a man of the world — is a 
 mere provincial ; and it is therefore no undue 
 assumption on my part, I trust, to assert that I 
 am far better qualified myself to bring an aflair 
 of this kind to a crisis." 
 
 "Certainly, certainly! — I have very little 
 doubt that a little judicious interference on your 
 part, would bring his Grace's intentions to a 
 decision." 
 
 '^ I shall give my unbiassed attention to the 
 business," said the General, frowning himself 
 into a reflective air; "for in all probability the 
 Duke of Lisborough is only waiting for some 
 overture from the head of Lady Maria Wil- 
 lingham's family. My nephew, Lord De Vesci, 
 is still in Ireland, and I am therefore authorized 
 in considering myself as pro tempore the head 
 of the house." 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 261 
 
 The conversation now turned upon the high 
 importance of the Lorton family, whether finan- 
 cially or parliamentarily considered; and the 
 Duke was praised — as opulent Dukes are gene- 
 rally praised — for all those universal minor 
 virtues which can be easily fitted on to every 
 human character. The Westlands decided that 
 his Grace was very superior to the ordinary run 
 of young men of the day ; and that it would be 
 Miss Willingham's own fault if she did not 
 become, before the close of the season, the 
 liege lady of himself and Lisborough House. 
 
 On the following morning, long before the 
 exterior residue of its eggs and French rolls 
 had been removed from the breakfast-table in 
 Seymour-street, the General entered the room 
 with a very admonitory air. He listened impa- 
 tiently to Lady Maria's account of a dinner at 
 Lord Lorimer's the day before; and in the 
 midst of her anticipation of Mrs. Grandison's 
 ball that evening, he burst forth into a precon- 
 certed harangue, admitting of no interruption. 
 
262 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 So widely, indeed, did its arguments extend — 
 so much did he say of the claims of kindred, 
 of personal affection, family alliances, and his 
 own especial predilection for herself and her 
 daughters — that Lady Maria immediately de- 
 cided her uncle was come to announce the sig- 
 nature of his will ; — and even the girls, who 
 were in sanguine expectation of a morning visit 
 from the Duke of Lisborough, and who were 
 therefore in an agony of anxiety to go and put 
 the finishing stroke to their toilet, judged it advi- 
 sable to assume a sentimental air, and linger 
 patiently over their coffee-cups. 
 
 Words, therefore, are insufficient to depict 
 the consternation which pervaded the counte- 
 nances of the three, when General De Vesci 
 unexpectedly diverged into the views he had 
 recently imbibed from the Westland clan ; set- 
 tine forth his intentions of immediate interfer- 
 ence, and insinuating some trifling displeasure 
 that his opinions on the subject had not been 
 already consulted. 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 263 
 
 Claudia and Eleanor telegraphed a look of 
 despair across the table, while Lady Maria 
 mildly attempted to moderate the excess of his 
 zeal. 
 
 " My dear Sir," she exclaimed, '^ can you 
 for a moment suppose, that had the Duke's 
 attentions to my daughter assumed any thing 
 beyond the form of conmfion courtesy, you 
 would have been permitted to remain in igno- 
 rance of the affair ? Oh ! my dear, dear uncle ! 
 you must surely be too well persuaded of my 
 poor girFs grateful affection towards you to 
 indulge in such an illusion. The Duke of 
 Lisborough has done no more than pay us 
 ordinary attention in requital of former hospi- 
 tality j — but the world is so jealous — so ill- 
 natured ! " 
 
 " I perceive nothing jealous or ill-natured in 
 projecting an alliance between the Duke and 
 Miss WiUingham." 
 
 " You, my dear General, you, who know so 
 much of the world — of the great world — cannot 
 
264 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 fail to recognize that this sort of premature 
 report is almost prohibitory of the event; and 
 that the most delicate forbearance is requisite 
 in conducting an affair, which the interest of 
 so many different persons is leagued to cir- 
 cumvent." 
 
 " That is the very consideration, my dear 
 Maria, which induces me to come forward at 
 the present juncture. I believe I may say it 
 without compliment to myself, that I, who have 
 so long been engaged in a diplomatic career — 
 I, who have had the responsibilities of govern- 
 ment — ^his Majesty's representative government 
 — hanging upon my hands — can pretend to the 
 adjustment of a negociation of this description 
 far better than even yourself" 
 
 " But no negociation has been yet thought of, 
 dear uncle," impatiently interrupted Eleanor. 
 
 The General waved an angry negative with 
 his ungloved hand. 
 
 '^ Nor will ever be. Miss Eleanor, without 
 some effort on my part. As your nearest male 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 265 
 
 relative, it becomes a duty incumbent on myself to 
 see that no improper trifling in the Duke of Lis- 
 borough's conduct throws a slur upon any female 
 connected, however remotely, with the family 
 of De Vesci. I shall therefore take some strong 
 and immediate measure towards an explana- 
 tion." 
 
 Claudia and Eleanor silently hazarded a 
 glance of sympathy towards each other. 
 
 " Or perhaps I should acknowledge — for we 
 official men" — with a self-important smile — 
 " we official men are not in the habit of hanging 
 fire on such occasions — perhaps I should can- 
 didly avow — that I have already taken it." 
 
 " Good Heavens, Sir ! " ejaculated the usually 
 impassive Claudia, suddenly rising and clasping 
 her hands, " what have you done ? " 
 
 " And without so much as consulting us," 
 added Eleanor, with indignation. 
 
 " My dear nieces, I trust I require no sug- 
 gestion from yourselves, or aiiy one, relative to 
 the line of conduct to be pursued on an occasion 
 
 VOL. I. N 
 
266 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 involving a point of family honour. — I have 
 simply done my duty ! " 
 
 "Well, Sir?" faintly inquired Lady Maria. 
 The General drew himself up with an air of 
 considerable dignity. " I have invited the 
 Duke of Lisborough to dinner on the 4th of 
 next month ! " 
 
 Relieved by this very unexpected announce- 
 ment, the girls gazed upon each other with a 
 smile of mutual congratulation. Still, although 
 the evil was of a very minor kind, they felt 
 that it was an evil. They w ere well aware that 
 the Duke was by no means in the habit of wan- 
 dering from his own orbit ; or rather, that living 
 as the centre of attraction to a little sphere of 
 his own, and possessing the power of command- 
 ing pleasure and amusement, according to the 
 suggestion of his personal whims, he seldom 
 placed himself at the mercy of other people's 
 invitations. But regrets were vain — the deed was 
 done ; and it only remained for them to qualify, by 
 their own ingenuity, its appalling consequences. 
 
KOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 267 
 
 " But my dear General ! " observed Lady 
 Maria, with as much courtesy as she could 
 assume, while boiling with indignation ; '* your 
 acquaintance in town is at present so very 
 limited — you have as yet taken so little trouble 
 towards the renewal of your former connexions, 
 that I cannot conceive how you will ever make 
 out a party to meet the Duke of Lisborough. 
 You must be aware that he confines himself to 
 a very exclusive set." 
 
 " In honouring my dinner-table with his 
 presence, he extends it for the occasion to my 
 guests, whoever they may be ; and I trust they are 
 never of a class to reflect discredit on his Grace.*' 
 
 " Discredit ! oh ! dear no, Sir ! But fashion 
 you know, my dear uncle, fashion is a most 
 arbitrary, a most peremptory code." 
 
 " I conceive. Madam, that a certain rank in 
 life is sufficient to elevate one wholly above its 
 influence. Fashion, Lady Maria, may become 
 a badge of distinction to an upstart such as a 
 Mr. Brummell ; but I presume to imagine that 
 
 N 2 
 
268 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 persons of rank, such as the Duke of Lis- 
 borough and General de Vesci, are exempted 
 from so contemptible a tax/' 
 
 Eleanor shrugged her shoulders, and left the 
 table in despair. 
 
 '^ Besides, your Ladyship appears to forget 
 that his Grace is as closely my relative as your 
 own." 
 
 " I am well aware that there is some remote 
 connexion between the Lortons and De Vescis ; 
 but our acquaintance with the Duke arose from 
 frequent meetings on the Continent, where we 
 moved in the same circle." 
 
 " Remote connexion? Surely you are not 
 io-norant that James, the thirteenth Duke of 
 Lisborough, was son to Lord Adolphus Lorton, 
 by Mildred the daughter of John, fourth Earl 
 of Chesterville, whose grandmother was a De 
 Vesci? — Remote connexion! — I was explain- 
 ing the whole affair the other morning at 
 Brookes's to Lord Robert Lorton; by whose 
 air and address, by the way, I was by no means 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 269 
 
 captivated. He has all the coldness and list- 
 lessness of the late Duke, without any of his 
 graceful dignity. While I was talking to him, 
 there came up a very elegant young man, who 
 requested his Lordship to present him to me 
 as a near relative of your late mother, Lady de 
 Vesci's; — a Mr. Lorimer, a very respectful, 
 agreeable, modest young gentleman. He spoke 
 of having recently made your acquaintance ; 
 and I invited him to visit me in Portman- 
 square.'* 
 
 " I consider Mr. Frederick Lorimer a very 
 forward person," said Lady Maria pettishly, 
 while Eleanor re-seated herself at the table. 
 " I have no idea of younger brothers presuming 
 upon family connexion to push themselves into 
 one's society. There is nothing so disadvanta- 
 geous as to have a parcel of detrimentals loiter- 
 ing and lounging about a house frequented by 
 young ladies of a marrying age. But to return 
 to your dinner. General. Whom do you think of 
 inviting to meet the Duke ?" 
 
270 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTEHS. 
 
 . " Yourselves, of course; and the ladies 
 of a party once settled, the men become of 
 minor impoitance. I can easily fill up my 
 table." 
 
 " Pardon me, dear Sir — ^the male guests of a 
 dinner-party are by far the most difficult to 
 adjust to the taste of their own sex. To form 
 an unpleasant female acquaintance is an affair 
 of minor moment ; — but to be forced into colli- 
 * sion with a vulgar or obscure man, would be 
 martyrdom to a person so fastidious as the 
 Duke." 
 
 <^ I flatter myself Mrs. De Vesci's family id 
 neither vulgar nor obscure. I shall invite all 
 the Westlands." 
 
 " Good God ! you surely do not think of 
 such a thing ! Men who were never dreamt of 
 on the southern side of Oxford-street V 
 
 " Lady Maria Willingham, you forget your- 
 Belf. Sir Hew Westland is a distinguished 
 
 •pfficer in his Majesty's service " 
 
 " Of whom one never hears, except in the 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 271 
 
 newspaper-list of a Uvte — or on occasion of a 
 frame-breaking at Nottingham." 
 
 *' Sir Thomas Westland, Madam, is a Director 
 of the Honourable East India Company." 
 ' Lady Maria groaned. 
 
 " Sir Philip is a banker of considerable emi- 
 nence, and is, moreover, married to the niece of 
 the late Attorney General." 
 
 " My dear uncle," interrupted Eleanor, who 
 was less in awe of the General than either her 
 mother or sister ; " what are all these people to 
 the. Duke ? He never heard of them, nor will 
 ever hear of them in the course of his exist- 
 ence ! Except in such places as Bedford-square, 
 or Devonshire-place, the Westland family rank 
 among the nonentities of the earth. Invite 
 them to meet your stock-broker, your solicitor, 
 or your physician, and they will pass for High 
 Mightinesses; — ^their names and designations 
 will maintain them. But in a certain set, to be 
 imknown is to be infamous. The Duke of 
 Lisborough never finds himself among strangers ; 
 
272 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 and he would consider it an affront to be in- 
 vited among a tribe of Hottentots like the 
 Westlands." 
 
 " Upon my word, Miss Eleanor," the General 
 began 
 
 '' Dearest Nelly ! how can you be so impru- 
 dent?" interrupted Claudia. 
 
 " It is much better to speak out, in such a 
 crisis," persisted Eleanor Willingham bluntly. 
 " My uncle's only wish on this occasion is to 
 benefit ourselves ; he is not aware of the Duke's 
 fastidious and supercilious ways ; and it is much 
 more candid to forewarn him of the truth." 
 
 General De Vesci, who was really a kind- 
 hearted man, appeared pacified by this expla- 
 nation, and inclined to treat the whole business 
 jocosely. 
 
 " Well — my fair counsellor ! — and you^ who 
 are so well versed in the art and science of din- 
 ner-giving — what amendment do you suggest ? 
 Who, of all my acquaintance, are fine enough 
 to be admitted into our scheme ?" 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 273 
 
 <( 
 
 Oh ! you must give Mamma carte blanche, 
 and she will arrange it all with Mrs. De Vesci." 
 
 "In the mean time, you will allow me to 
 learn the names of my future guests." 
 
 " Oh ! there is the new Neapolitan ambas- 
 sador, Prince Agostino Sciarrha, on whom you 
 called yesterday. The Princess is our particu- 
 lar friend, and a very charming woman. They, 
 I am sure, will be delighted to come ; and they 
 will bring one of their attaches, who is a great 
 protege of the Duke of Lisborough's, the Duca 
 di Villa Armagnano." 
 
 The General, who was a great lover of great 
 names, became somewhat appeased by this eu« 
 phonious promise. " And your relations, the 
 Lorimers, Lady Maria ? — Lord Lorimer left his 
 card on me at the beginning of the season, and 
 her Ladyship and Mrs. De Vesci have exchanged 
 visits ; — only Annabella is so unobservant that 
 she never can be made to distinguish Lady 
 Lorimer from her daughters. How many of 
 
 N 3 
 
274 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 the family ought I to include in the invita- 
 tion?" 
 
 " The Lorimers ! They are as mauvais ton 
 as the Westlands ! — They belong to a class of 
 the nobility who are utterly unknown in the 
 fashionable world ; — who lend themselves out 
 as stars, to all the vulgar second-rate parties ; 
 and affect to be too wise or too good for the 
 bean mojide, which despises them. If you like, 
 you can invite the eldest son. He lives very 
 little -vv^ith his own family, and will probably 
 achieve better things ; — he is considered a rising 
 young man.'* 
 
 " And Mr. Frederick V 
 
 " A younger brother who is not in Parlia* 
 ment, and who neither writes books, nor is con- 
 sidered attached to some leading woman of 
 fashion, is a mere blank," said Lady Maria, 
 angrily. " Pray, Sir, spare us the infliction of 
 any such Mr. Johns and Mr. Thomases. You 
 are acquainted with Mr. Russell — Beau Rus- 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 275 
 
 sell, I mean. Ask him, arid Sir Comyne Wal- 
 lace, whom I presented to you at the Opera. 
 Old Lord Hopemell is not a bad style of man, 
 although rather out of date ; — and I should think 
 the Duke would not object to meet Lord Mas- 
 terton, the ex-Governor-General, although they 
 differ so widely in politics. But, at all events. 
 Sir, you can wait till you receive the Duke's 
 answer ; — it is by no means certain at present 
 that he will accept your invitation." 
 
 " By Heavens ! you are all Lisborough mad 1" 
 exclaimed the General, closing his snuff-box 
 with an irritable jerk, and taking up his hat in 
 a pet. " I might have invited half the Royal 
 Family, with a quarter the fuss." 
 
 "The Royal family! I should think so," 
 reiterated Eleanor, flippantly. " Who ever 
 thought of comparing the Royal family in point 
 ofyasAiow with the Duke of Lisborough?" 
 
 " Stark mad !" muttered the General, pulling 
 his hat over his brows, and leaving the house. 
 '* Poor unfortunate girls ! Their residence on 
 
276 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 the Continent has deprived them of even the 
 moderate portion of understanding they received 
 as their birthright. His Grace, in marrying 
 Claudia, will do well to provide strait-waistcoats 
 for the whole family !'* 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 277 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Voila de jeunes gens qui ont fait trop t6t le tour de leur 
 planete. Senac de Meilhan. 
 
 "What did you lose after I left the table 
 last night, Stapylford ?'' inquired Sir Comyne 
 Wallace of Lord Stapylford 's son, who was 
 lounging on the down sofa of his apartment at 
 Mivart's. "Any thing heavy ?" 
 
 " On my soul ! I forget," replied the yawning 
 Stapylford, passing a white hand through his 
 perfumed curls, and crumpling with the other 
 the Morning Post into a toss-ball. " Tich- 
 borne !" said he, elevating his drawl to address 
 a particular friend, who, dressed as his double, 
 
278 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS, 
 
 was busily engaged at the breakfast-table, with 
 the wreck of a patt defoie gras. " Tichborne ! 
 what did I lose ? I saw you booking it all." 
 
 " Don't destroy my small relic of appetite by 
 adverting to the subject, there's a worthy fellow. 
 We lost last night — for we played together — 
 more than it is pleasant to think of this mom- 
 ing." 
 
 Sir Comyne went to the window, and began 
 to polish Mr. Mivart's plate-glass with the tas- 
 sel of his cane, by way of concealing a smile. 
 Both, from the active evidence before him, and 
 from his certain knowledge that Tichborne had 
 not a shilling of his own, either to spend or to 
 hazard, he thought it improbable the young 
 gentleman's appetite would suffer on the present 
 occasion. 
 
 '^ Why were you not both at Mrs. Grandison's 
 ball ? Your family were all there, Tichborne ; 
 and you know, Stapylford, I oifered to get you 
 a card." 
 
 " Oh ! curse balls !" replied the double, ring- 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 279 
 
 ing for a glass of Curagoa or Scubac, to qualify 
 the unctuous patL " We looked in at the 
 Opera for an hour, and saw all Mrs. Grandison^'s 
 set in their ball finery ; but except Lady Robert 
 Lorton, who was sparkling like an ill-set dia- 
 mond in a hideous hat, and the two pretty 
 Willinghams, there was nothing to tempt a man 
 to forget himself into the milk-and-water com- 
 mon-place of a ball-room." 
 ' '' That Lady Barringhurst, your cousin, is a 
 very lovely piece of human nature," said the 
 boy-voluptuary, who was busy with his ball ; 
 *'she looks like a swansdown-mufF, or my 
 poodle, after he has been washed in milk of 
 roses." 
 
 Tichborne echoed the witling with the ready 
 laugh of a double ; but his cheek w^as flushed, 
 and his eye sparkled with an angry glance. 
 " And what had you new at Mrs. Grandison's, 
 Wallace?" 
 
 *' Oh ! nothing new. But a thousand old 
 things which might have amused you better 
 
280 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 than losing your money at Crockford's. In 
 the first place a supper, the very recollection of 
 which might have superseded the necessity of a 
 further breach upon that ruined patL^* 
 
 " We did not sup ill at Crocky's/' said young 
 Stapylford, swallowing a glass of Scubac with 
 leisurely enjoyment. 
 
 " One never does ; but having paid for those 
 gratuitous suppers at the rate of a rouleau a 
 mouthful, they always give me a fit of indiges- 
 tion. Now, at Mrs. Grandison's I felt the cost 
 to be at the expense of a rich banker's vanity. 
 I believe they had the President of the Royal 
 Society to inspect the cooling of the wines — no 
 ice ! — it was all a chemical operation ; — and the 
 strawberries were brought to table growing in 
 China saucers, that we might hail them in all 
 their horticultural freshness." 
 
 *' Well imagined ! — that Mrs. Grandison is 
 not destitute of genius," observed Tichborne. 
 " But what made her give a ball ? — it is con- 
 trary to the system of her circle." 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 281 
 
 " Oh ! I fancy she is rather breaking out 
 of Lady Robert Lorton's set ; she is too viva- 
 cious, and not sufficiently well-bred for their 
 indolent easy mode of happiness. She likes 
 a little tracasserie — a little mischief to keep 
 her alive; — and her present mania is to. achieve 
 the legislation of Lisborough House ; she 
 vv^ants to get that overgrown baby into leading- 
 strings." 
 
 " Absurd ! She has all the influence which 
 beauty — and all the enjoyments which money 
 can give ; — besides the adoration of a husband 
 who would pave Portland-place with rubies to 
 please her ! Vv^hy cannot she be satisfied with- 
 out throwing away her reputation?" 
 
 " La belle Grand ison has a very active 
 spirit, which cannot exist without the exertion 
 of manoeuvring. A difficulty to overcome is a 
 great temptation to a genius like her's." 
 
 " But where's the difficulty of winning the 
 attentions of a person so fickle as the Duke of 
 Lisborough ?" 
 
^82 MOTHEKS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 " None, I grant you; — but to retain them?" 
 " More trouble than they are worth." 
 *' Than they are worth. But you omit from 
 the balance the dear delight of giving pain ; 
 — the pleasure of irritating Our Lady of the 
 farthingale — the austere Lady Grayfield — and 
 baffling the manoeuvres of the lovely Claudia 
 Willingham." 
 
 "Or making that simple little daisy, Lady 
 Anastasia Burgoyne, shut up its leaves and 
 die.^' 
 
 " By heavens ! it was quite exquisite to see 
 the Duke the other night at Lord Monmouth's 
 concert. You know he is a furious amateur, 
 and cannot endure to be flirted with, within 
 scrape of an orchestra ; so when Mrs. Grandison 
 grew too kind, and too tiresome, Lisborough 
 went and took refuge behind the skirts of 
 Lady Grayfield*s clothing, by way of not 
 knowing her, and of being shocked at her pro- 
 ceedings." 
 
 *' The advantage of having a virtuous sister!" 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 283 
 
 exclaimed Sir Comyne. " It is really lucky 
 that the Duke has such a buckler of defence 
 against his fair friends ; for upon my soul it is 
 disgusting to see the manner in which he is 
 invaded on all sides. And yet, faith ! I should 
 not dislike playing II Tiirco for a few weeks 
 after his Grace's fashion — letting all the fair 
 Odalisques come and kiss the dust of my 
 sublime feet. Your turn will come soon, 
 Stapylford. When you inherit your uncle's 
 fortune, and put on your coronet, you will 
 find yourself obliged to assume a spiked collar, 
 a la bull-dog, to escape being worried." 
 
 " I detest women,'' drawled the youthful 
 Alcibiades. " They are so cursedly selfish. 
 The strongest affection never surmounts their 
 egotism, while from us they expect every possi- 
 ble sacrifice." 
 
 Tichbome laughed heartily, and Sir Comyne 
 Wallace ironically, at this sally, 
 
 " You know them, at present, through their 
 worst representatives. I am persuaded, my 
 
284 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 dear fellow, you never found courage to enter 
 into conversation with any thing in the shape 
 of a lady, except that frightful sister of Charles 
 Willingham's, at Heddeston." 
 
 " Whom old Monteagle, my grandmother, 
 seriously advised me to marry! By way of 
 frightening the ancient soul into an apoplexy, 
 I told her I was already engaged to little 
 Minnie, who will never have a shilling " 
 
 '^ Hush ! here comes Lorimer ! he is some- 
 how or other connected with those Willing- 
 hams. Lorimer, my fine fellow — how are 
 you?" 
 
 " Why looks your Grace so heavily to-day ?" 
 inquired Stapylford. 
 
 *^ Because he is in J/sgrace," said Tichborne, 
 laughing at his own wit. " Its papa has pro- 
 tested a bill — or its mamma " 
 
 " My dear Tichborne," said Frederick Lori- 
 mer, sarcastically, " be satisfied with quizzing 
 your own parents ; mine must remain my espe- 
 cial property." 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 285 
 
 " But you have really a most woe-begone 
 and indignant air/* said young Stapylford. 
 " Out with it, man ; — swear a little at somebody 
 or other, and you will be better. Who has 
 affronted you? — which of your friends here 
 present is to be your ' friend V Who stands 
 first to be your second ?" 
 
 A waiter now entered the room with certain 
 despatches from Mr. Stapylford's head groom 
 to Mr. Tichborne ; on the strength of which, 
 having swallowed two consecutive glasses of 
 liqueur, drawn his waistcoat and black stock 
 into their respective and relative positions be- 
 fore the looking-glass, and filled his morocco 
 cigar-case from Stapylford 's tin-treasury, he 
 announced his intention of proceeding to the 
 stables; where some mysterious operation was 
 going on, which was said by Irish Bob to 
 necessitate his inspection. There was nothing, 
 indeed, particularly degrading to Lord Heni-y 
 Tichborne 's son in the office of stud-groom, 
 which he thus appeared to arrogate to himself; — 
 
286 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 the horses which bore Mr. Stapylford's name 
 being far more his own property. He rode them 
 all the winter at Melton — all the summer in 
 the Park ; and whatever money was won upon 
 them in the course — at Hampton, or Good- 
 wood, or Croxton Park — all found its way into 
 Mr. Tichborne's pocket. 
 
 " I am come to inquire whether you have 
 any message to Charles Willingham, or any 
 commands to Oxford at large?" said Lorimer, as 
 soon as the double had sworn his way out of 
 the room. " I am off bv the mail this even- 
 ing." 
 
 " And what says the fair Eleanor to your 
 scheme of departure?" said Sir Comyne, appa- 
 rently as much relieved as Frederick Lorimer 
 by the absence of their dear friend's dear friend. 
 '' Methought I saw you whispering her some- 
 what closely in Mrs. Grandison's Abyssinian 
 tent-room last night ; and it seemed to me that 
 she turned neither a deaf nor an angry ear." 
 
 " What can a wretched younger brother like 
 
JHOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 287 
 
 myself find to urge that is likely io win the 
 attention of a lovely girl like herself V^ 
 
 " That which pleases most lovely girls ; — • 
 that you are madly in love with her ; and are 
 hesitating between Prussic acid and oxalic, to 
 put a period to your woes; — just such tmsli as 
 I talked the other night to her fair sister Claudia, 
 by way of exasperating that leather-and-pru« 
 nella automaton, Lisborough; — who, by the way, 
 takes the liberty of trifling with women's affec- 
 tions in a manner that often induces me to wish 
 I had a pretty sister of my own, for the pros- 
 pect of calling him out." 
 
 '^ And yet you jestingly recommend me to 
 trifle in a similar manner with Eleanor Wilhng- 
 ham's V 
 
 " / recommend any measure in jest? Believe 
 me, my counsels were as grave as if they had 
 been uttered by the Lord Chancellor in the 
 most erudite of all his wigs. I advised no 
 feigniiigy but a simple confession of feeling 
 which I knew to exist." 
 
288 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 '' With a view to obtain some such conces- 
 sion in my turn? — a concession which must 
 inevitably insure the misery of both !" 
 
 *' You seem bursting with magnanimity this 
 morning ; but you will not, at least, deny the 
 fact of your being desperately in love ?" 
 
 '' Like a fool, or a madman ! — Eleanor is a 
 sort of cousin of mine, although we have never 
 met till lately; — and this connexion has advanced 
 our intimacy with such miraculous facility, that 
 I have seen her more in ten days than one sees 
 of girls in general during a London-month. 
 Knowing that my stay in England was so 
 limited, I felt that I had a right to make it as 
 happy as I could, without calculating that the 
 misery of my residence on the Continent would 
 thereby become increased a thousand fold." 
 
 ^^ Misery? pho ! pho !'' exclaimed Stapylford. 
 " Make the best of your way to Paris, an^ y^^^ 
 will forget her in a month." 
 
 " You judge me, my dear Stapylford, by 
 your own feelings." 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 289 
 
 " Not I, by Jupiter ! — a week, or even a day, 
 if passed according to my own good liking, 
 would do the business for meT 
 
 " But unfortunately I am bound not to Paris, 
 but to Leyden ; where I fancy I should find thq 
 Waters of Oblivion more difficult of attain- 
 ment.'* 
 
 " But I do not understand what takes you 
 to-night to Oxford, a place which it costs me 
 so much pains and hazard to keep away from. 
 Is it your passion, or your prudence — eh ! 
 Frederick ?" 
 
 " Both ! — I want to inquire of Charles Wil- 
 lingham whether his cousin is ever likely to be 
 in possession of a shilling, before I presume to 
 offer her my own younger brother's eighteen- 
 pence ; — I think it decent, in respect to both 
 our families, that we should make up half-a- 
 crown between us !'* 
 
 " A considerable waste of time and trouble," 
 observed Stapylford, arranging the amadou of 
 his cigarette^ which Tichborne had politely 
 
 VOL. I. o 
 
290 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTEHS. 
 
 thrown open on the chifibnier. "Why don't 
 you run away with her at once ?" 
 
 " Run where — in what — with w^hat?" 
 
 *' I will lend you my travelling-carriage ; and 
 you can go to Gretna Green first, and Botham's, 
 at Salt Hill, afterwards." 
 
 " And the King's Bench in the third place ! — 
 But who is to pay the cost of the expedition ? — 
 I have nothing but my dressing-box and a 
 brace of greyhounds to raise money upon." 
 
 '' My last loan is not exhausted, notwith- 
 standing my last night's losses ; — and five hun- 
 dred are much at your service," said Stapyl- 
 ford listlessly. " I will give you a draft on my 
 banker — and you can be off this evening." 
 
 " My dear Stapylford," exclaimed Lorimer, 
 " you are so accustomed to find Tichborne and 
 Co. dipping into your purse, as if it were their 
 own, that you have forgotten scruples can even 
 exist on such a subject. But Brook-street is 
 not the Rue de la Paix, therefore I have no 
 immediate excuse for the annihilation of memoiy 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 291 
 
 which you predicted just now. — I cannot con- 
 trive to forget that I am a beggar — or a cadet 
 — (synonimous terms, you know) — not for to- 
 day or to-morrow, or till I came of age ; but 
 for the remainder of my hang-dog days. You 
 must therefore excuse me from borrowing mo- 
 ney which it will remain wholly out of my 
 power to return at any future period — and " 
 
 '' I wish Tichborne were here to extend his 
 ears, eyes, and lungs at such an extravagant 
 declaration," observed Sir Comyne in a paren- 
 thesis. 
 
 — " And from running away with a pretty 
 cousin of my own, who deserves a more honour- 
 able death than starvation on the Surrey side 
 of the bridges." 
 
 " As you please," said Stapylford. " But 
 since you are so economically inclined, let me 
 still recommend you to reta,in the Oxford jour- 
 ney as the last resource of your despair." 
 
 '^ I have resolved upon speaking to my father 
 before I go abroad -, and it will be necessary to 
 
 O 3 
 
292 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 provide myself with particulars previous to the 
 explanation." 
 
 '' A very rational precaution ! — ^but you are 
 going fifty superfluous miles in search of them. 
 I can inform you, on the best authority, that 
 your goddess is as portionless as you can desire. 
 She has a little fairy of a sister living at Hed- 
 deston Court, with old Melchisedec Willing- 
 ham, with whom I have been half in love my- 
 self ever since she has been out of leading- 
 strings ; — and the Dowager, my Monteagle gran- 
 dame, has duly forewarned me every holidays, 
 ' Montague — Montague — beware how you en- 
 tangle yourself with that child ! — Fall in love 
 with her cousin and welcome ! — but Minnie 
 will be a beggar to the end of her days.'" 
 
 " Minnie ! '' exclaimed Lorimer, starting from 
 the sofa on which he had thrown himself in a 
 very lover-like attitude. " Is that little girl 
 the daughter of Lady Maria? — How strange 
 that Eleanor should never mention her ! — But 
 now you remind me that, without referring to 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 293 
 
 Melchisedec, as you obligingly * denominate 
 Charles Willingham's respected sire, I can ga- 
 ther all the particulars I wish to know from 
 my friend Mary; — I will be off directly to 
 Grosvenor-square." 
 
 ^' But you will find that armadillo, her sen- 
 tentious Ladyship, stationed in the drawing- 
 room," said Stapylford. 
 
 " Oh, she will be busy reading the Book of 
 Martyrs, or the Pilgrim's Progress, and she 
 never disturbs herself on my account. As 
 Charles's friend, I am looked upon as the friend 
 of the whole house. Or I will persuade Mary 
 to come and walk with me in the square." 
 
 " You are a lucky dog to be trusted in tete^ 
 a-tete walks with young ladies," said Wallace, 
 taking up his hat. 
 
 *' Melchisedec knows that his daughter and 
 her fifty thousand pounds are as safe with me 
 as with her grandfather," said Lorimer. 
 
 " On her mother's side I believe she never 
 had a grandfather," observed Stapylford. " But 
 
2S4 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTEES. 
 
 she is ugiy enough to be safe any where, with, 
 any body. 
 
 " No strictures on Mary Willingham ; — she 
 is the best creature breathings and I love her 
 like a sister/' replied Frederick Lorimer. 
 
 " I have a great regard for Mary myself," 
 said Stapylford, extending his finger in adieu, 
 as they were leaving the room ; " but I think / 
 love her more like my grandmother. My com- 
 pliments to her, Fred. — but you need not tell 
 her so. And now I must go and see what 
 Tichborne is doing." 
 
 " Stapylford is a fine fellow," observed Sir 
 Comyne Wallace to Frederick Lorimer, as they 
 sauntered arm-in-arm up Brook-street. " A 
 gentleman in every pulse and every feeling; — 
 I wish he were in better hands than Tichbome's 
 — who is ruining him at an immoderate pace, 
 and without allowing the poor boy to take out 
 his ruin's-worth in pleasure." 
 
 " Tichborne is an enigma to me," replied 
 Lorimer. " Knowino^ him to be such another 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 295 
 
 Squire Lackland as myself, I cannot make out 
 how he gets on." 
 
 " He was an enigma to me five years ago; 
 but now I know London better, and Tichborne 
 only too well." 
 
 "His uncle, the Duke of Arlington, allows him 
 two hundred a-year ; on the strength of which he 
 dresses better than any man in town — has the 
 best equipage, the best valet; — ^belongs to all 
 the clubs, and lives in the most exclusive so- 
 ciety. Now, Lord Henry, his father — who is 
 one of the respectable old pig-tail and Boodle 
 school — ^has not a doit to bestow on him, and 
 has several daughters to marry — or maintain.^' 
 
 " All very true ! and as soon as Tichborne — * 
 who is a gross sensualist, and as unprincipled as 
 a horse-dealer — became aware of all his here- 
 ditary deficiencies and misfortunes, he struck 
 out a new profession for himself, and became a 
 spendthrift-leech ; — a middle-man between the 
 boy-lords and the Israelites ; — and it is astonish- 
 ing how many estates he has already disabled 
 
296 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 into nursing-trim. — Tailors, jockeys, coach- 
 makers, jewellers, and all the avant couriers of 
 Banco Regis, are ready to kneel for his custom 
 —that is for his orders ; — and poor Stapylford 
 and Co. become tacitly sacrificed to the com- 
 pact." 
 
 *' By Heavens ! it is too bad ! " 
 
 " True ; but were they not in his hands, or 
 some other of his illustrious confraternity, they 
 would fall into those of sharpers, without even an 
 *^ Honourable " prefaced to their names, and out 
 of the pale of amenability to a hair-trigger ; — 
 fellows to whom a horse-whipping, more or less, 
 would appear of no account, and who would 
 cheat ad infinitum accordingly. Your Tich- 
 bornes, on the contrary, are within pistol retri- 
 ution." 
 
 " I, you know, am too small game for such a 
 kite to fly at,'* said Lorimer. *' But I re- 
 member, last year, he joined me as I was saun- 
 tering down Bond-street to Hoby's, where he 
 concluded I was about to give an order ; and 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 297 
 
 when he saw me take out my purse and ask 
 for a stamped receipt, I shall never forget his 
 air of consternation. — ' My dear fellow, what 
 in Heaven's name are you about?' said he, 
 drawing me aside. ' For God's sake consider 
 how scarce money is in London just now !' — 
 As if I were making the bootmaker a gratuitous 
 present! — But who is that beautiful woman 
 bowing to you, Wallace ? " 
 
 *' In that green carriage ? — Oh ! a fair par^ 
 venue /" 
 
 *' A Countess, by the emblazonments." 
 
 *' I mean a parvenue-YfOvn^cn. of fashion. Al- 
 though she must be verging on forty, she only 
 commenced her vocation last year; having 
 been hitherto satisfied with provincial nonen- 
 tityism ; coming to town for a change of nurses 
 and a visit to the Exhibition ; and returning to 
 the lilacs and nightingales early in May." 
 
 " She is very handsome." 
 
 " Tolerably handsome, certainly; — but she 
 disfigures herself by adopting every last ultra- 
 
 O 3 
 
298 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS, 
 
 extravagant mode ; and renders herself odious ' 
 by running after all the fine people, like a 
 banker's wife." 
 
 " Her rank ought to place her above such 
 a degradation.'' 
 
 '* She adores me just now — because I am in 
 Lady Robert Lorton's set, who will have no- 
 thing to say to her ; and as to Lisborough — she 
 would lay foot-cloths of velvet from her house to 
 his, if he would only step over them to visit 
 her. Poor Lady Radbourne passes three hours 
 a day in inditing little solicitation notes, trying 
 to get here, and there, and every where, where 
 she is not wanted. Good bye ! — here we are at 
 Sir Joseph's ; — and Lady Monteagle's carriage, 
 on the roll for departure, announces that the 
 family are at home. — I wish you joy." 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 299 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Peste, soit la sincerite ! c'est un mauvais metier. Desor- 
 mais j'y renonce, et je ne veux plus dire un mot de vrai. 
 
 Molitre, 
 
 The event was, however, no source of joy to 
 Frederick; for, as the Monteagie equipage 
 rumbled from the spot, an ethereal smile glanced 
 upon him from its window, and a fair hand was 
 so courteously kissed in his honour, that his 
 heart-quake of the morning returned upon him 
 more vehemently than ever; and by the time 
 he was ushered by a gouty butler — the grand 
 son of the departed Dickinson — to the door Ox 
 Lady Wiilingham's formal drawing-room, the 
 divine Eleanor, and her matchless charms of 
 mind and person, had thoroughly repossessed 
 
300 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 themselves of his imagination. His counte- 
 nance was sentimentahzed by a thousand tender 
 emotions — but he was spared the perils of a 
 scrutiny ; — for her Ladyship was thoroughly en- 
 grossed by worthy Mrs. Darnham, and another 
 equally respectable village-neighbour, enveloped 
 in an equally comprehensive woollen shawl; 
 whose matronly details had been of so medical 
 a character as to drive poor Mary to a distant 
 table — where she was hanging over her palette 
 and an exquisite group of flowers. Mr. Lori- 
 mer, after the usual compliments to the three 
 destinies who were so mysteriously laying their 
 heads together in awful conclave, proceeded 
 towards Miss Willingham's retreat, and seated 
 himself by her side. 
 
 " What beautiful hyacinths, Mary! — they 
 seem starting from the vellum ; and how your 
 group has advanced since I saw it last !" 
 
 "It is almost a fortnight since you were 
 here," replied Mary, without raising her eyes 
 from her drawing. 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 301 
 
 '* Can it be possible ! — I should scarcely have 
 thought it a week ! — indeed it appears only a 
 day ! — a dear, delightful, dreamy, midsummer- 
 day.- 
 
 Mary's curiosity was now excited to lift her 
 observation towards the countenance of the 
 enthusiast; and in doing so she discovered that 
 her own was somewhat pale, and that all its 
 bloom appeared concentrated in the eyelids. 
 Frederick instantly decided these effects to 
 arise from the perfume of the flowers she was 
 copying, and the arduous delicacy of her task. 
 He had very little suspicion of his own share 
 in the disfigurement; — he had very little idea 
 how far his own attractions had influenced 
 poor Mary's letter of refusal that morning to 
 Sir William Wyndham ; and the lecture of two 
 hours and twenty minutes from her father, 
 which had followed its dispatchal ; — that since 
 breakfast she had been compelled to listen to 
 a recital (first and second edition, paternal and 
 maternal) of the rentroll of the Wyndham Park 
 
o02 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 estate; and to her cousin Eleanor's private 
 recapitulation of all the tender nothings whis- 
 pered to her by Frederick Lorimer in the course 
 of Mrs. Grandison's ball and supper. Eleanor, 
 it is true, had insisted quite as much on the 
 general charms of the ball — upon the variety 
 and fashion of her partners, and upon the Duke 
 of Lisborouo'h's renewed devotion to her sister 
 Claudia ; — Lorimer, and his attachment, had 
 appeared to excite a very minor degree of 
 interest among the pleasures of the evening; 
 but she avowed herself conscious of its exist- 
 ence; — and to be loved by him and remain 
 indifferent to the distinction, was a stretch of 
 philosophy utterly beyond poor Mary's com- 
 prehension ! It is miraculous that the bou- 
 quet of hyacinths was not utterly effaced by 
 the flood of silent and bitter tears which had 
 signalized Lady Monteagle's departure, and the 
 cessation of Eleanor Willingham's confidences. 
 But he was by her side again ; and she could 
 not feel t'cry unhappy in Frederick's presence. 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 303 
 
 '* Mary ! " said he, " you must bestow that 
 little painting upon me as a bouquet d' adieu. — I 
 have only a week longer to remain among you ; 
 and when I am far away " 
 
 Mary bent still closer over her work, and was 
 guilty of several random touches. 
 
 — "When I am far away, it will serve to 
 remind me of the few last happy days I spent 
 in England ! " 
 
 " Is Charles aware that so early a period is fixed 
 for your departure ? " said she in a low voice. 
 
 "Do not s?iyjixed. — I cannot bear that odious 
 word. — When I think of all the dangers of 
 absence, Mary — vv^hen I consider the admiration 
 with which the world will environ your lovely 
 cousin, I can hardly believe that my courage 
 will be equal to the effort of separation. So 
 sweet a creature — so playfully, yet so harm- 
 lessly witty — so original, so naive, so enjoute. 
 in her manners and ideas — so superior to the 
 common-place routine of Missy girls one meets 
 with in London ! — Eleanor Willingham com- 
 
304 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 bines all the sprightly grace of a Parisian, with 
 the modesty and solid understanding of a true- 
 born Englishwoman. How happened it, Mary, 
 that you never mentioned nor described her to 
 me in all the walks and conversations we have 
 had together at Heddeston ? " 
 
 The gentle Mary saw nothing overcharged 
 in Frederick Lorimer's description of her cousin; 
 it was enough that he thought her an angel to 
 sanctify the beatification in Mary's eyes; nor 
 did she testily vindicate herself from the charge 
 of "unlawfully concealing." — " You forget," said 
 she mildly, " that we were mere children when 
 we parted, Eleanor was always esteemed a very 
 lovely and promising girl; but I remember once 
 reading to you and my brother a passage from 
 her letters, describing the Neapolitan carnival — 
 which appeared to me a masterpiece of lively 
 elegance — and you both said so much of its tone 
 of flippancy and levity, that I closed the letter 
 and never mentioned my cousin's name to you 
 a^ain." 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 305 
 
 ** English school-boys are such pudding- 
 brained oafs ! — Dear Eleanor ! — ^what would I 
 give to see one of her graceful effusions now ! — 
 I have learned to render her justice; and how 
 delightful to think that my two most esteemed 
 friends are her own nearest relatives — ^that if 
 I ever have the happiness to call her mine, I 
 shall also attain the privilege of naming you, 
 dearest Mary — you and Charles — my cousins ! " 
 
 " Have you — have you any probable chance 
 of such an accomplishment of your wishes ? " 
 faltered Mary Willingham, not daring to look up. 
 
 " That is exactly the question I am come to 
 ask of yourself." 
 
 " Of mCf Lorimer ? " 
 
 " You are in Eleanor's confidence. — She re- 
 gards you far more highly than any other 
 member of her family, — she has too much dis- 
 cernment not to do you ample justice, dear 
 Mary. Now tell me truly — has she not spoken 
 to you of me? — And tell me truly again — 
 have I any hope that she will deign to accept 
 
306 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 the devotion of my whole life — of my whole 
 heart?" 
 
 Mary was conscious of a painful struggle 
 between the agony of her feelings, and the 
 determination to be perfectly candid ; — and the 
 heroism of honesty lent so fervid a flush to her 
 cheek, and so intense a glance to her brow, that 
 for a moment she appeared as lovely as the 
 subject of their debate. 
 
 <* She has spoken of you to me several times, 
 Frederick ; — with partiality — vn\h preference — 
 but nothing further. Had she said more, indeed, 
 than thftt she thought you agreeable, gentle- 
 manly, and well-informed, I should have consi- 
 dered myself bound, as a woman, to keep her 
 secret. But although Eleanor has deposited 
 no secret with me implying confidence — I have 
 every reason to believe she has not formed any 
 other attachment." 
 
 " Thank God ! " exclaimed Frederick Lori- 
 mer fervently ; " and thank you, my dear kind 
 Mary, for " 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTEES.. 307 
 
 He was not permitted to give a full term to 
 his importunate gratitude ; for Dickinson, junior, 
 again throwing open the drawing-room door — 
 announced " Lord Lorimer." Poor Lady Wil- 
 lingham, who saw in the arrival of the pompous 
 and somewhat tedious peer, only an unwelcome 
 interruption to her gratifying flannel-and-caudle 
 colloquy with her village gossips, received him 
 with cold and deliberate equanimity ; but when 
 in throwing his large gray cod-like eyes round 
 the room, they finally rested upon Miss Wil- 
 lingham, blushing and trembling — with his own. 
 son Frederick — his younger son — hanging over 
 her chair — his Lordship puckered his leathern 
 visage into a very peculiar smile, and drew 
 himself up into an extra-elevation of gratified 
 pride. Certain projects, which had more than 
 once glanced across his mind, became con- 
 densed into stability by the relative position 
 of the parties; and in the course of his stately 
 strut towards the table to inquire after Miss 
 Mary's health, and interest himself in her avo- 
 
308 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 cation, it occurred to his parental foresight that 
 his third son George might be more conveniently 
 forwarded to Leyden ; and his second son, Fre- 
 derick, entered at Cambridge, with a view to 
 orders and the reversionary chance of the 
 living of Heddeston : — including, of course, the 
 daughter of the patron, and her fifty thousand 
 pounds. 
 
 Lord Lorimer was at all times a most pom* 
 pously urbane man; deeply sensible of the 
 mercy of Providence in making him a peer, and 
 elevating him above the sordid uses of the 
 vulgar; and smitten with a most overflowing 
 sjrmpathy with all those of his own calling and 
 degree. To be a nobleman was with him to be 
 a vicegerent of Heaven ; — to be a baronet was 
 at least something : — had he lived in the days 
 when the heads of the traitor-lords were ex- 
 posed on Temple-bar, it is probable that he 
 would have dwindled into a nervous atrophy ; — • 
 or had he attained years of discretion when 
 Lord Ferrers was hanged, it is certain that he 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 309 
 
 would have gone into mourning. The ulterior 
 object of his present visit to Grosvenor-square 
 was to offer his felicitations on the reported 
 marriage between Claudia Willingham and his 
 Grace of Lisborough — a catastrophe which he 
 regarded as conferring honour upon her kindred 
 even unto the remotest generation. 
 
 " I trust your Ladyship is persuaded," said 
 Lord Lorimer, " of the deep interest with which 
 Lady Lormier and myself have watched the 
 progress of an event so flattering to a family 
 which has for many years honoured us with 
 its friendship. Lady Maria Willingham is by 
 birth my cousin, and I rejoice in her prosperity; 
 but Sir Joseph and Lady Willingham are by 
 choice my friends, and every incident involving 
 their honour and happiness is important in my 
 estimation." 
 
 Mary, who had deserted her drawing-table 
 in order to assist in entertaining her mother's 
 guests, could not but consider this a singular 
 mode of reasoning ; but her Lady-mother was 
 
310 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTEES. 
 
 still less inclined to accept Lord Lorimer's 
 absurd plausibilities. Thoroughly out of hu- 
 mour with love and matrimony on Sir William 
 Wyndham's account, she could not bear any 
 allusion to her niece's prospects, and would not 
 hear of being congratulated. 
 
 " If your Lordship have any serious reason 
 for believing Sir Joseph's niece to be engaged 
 to the Duke of Lisborough, I can only say 
 that you are more fortunate in obtaining Lady 
 Maria's confidence than we have been. She 
 was here this morning, and I beg to say that 
 not a word passed on the subject." 
 
 " Come — come, my dear Madam ; — this is 
 scarcely using me like a friend — like an old 
 friend. It is no^v eight yeai's — or faith — I 
 believe nine — eh ! Frederick ? — since you taught 
 that young gentleman of mine to prefer a home 
 at Heddeston Court, to a home at Lorimer 
 Hall. His ow^n motives for the preference I 
 leave him to account for to your Ladyship; 
 but I am not ashamed to acknowledge that 
 
.MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 311 
 
 from the period in question — (yes ! it was cer- 
 tainly nine years ago) until now — I have never 
 ceased to regard the second parents of a beloved 
 son as my own first friends ! " 
 
 Lord Lorimer paused, as when expecting the 
 cheers of the House; or of his ovv-n county 
 meetings after a clap-trap ; — and Lady Willing- 
 ham, utterly at a loss to conjecture the motives 
 of all this grandiloquent courtesy, filled up the 
 pause vrith a bow of vague acknowledgment, 
 
 " I am fully aware that young ladies are 
 extremely tenacious of having these little affairs 
 prematurely discussed — eh ! Miss Mary ? — ^but 
 although lovers — like ostriches — fancy that in. 
 hiding their heads they escape notice alto- 
 gether, still suspicions tvill arise — the world 
 will talk ! — And why not ? — ^What can be more 
 honourable than the marriage estate, when 
 affording creditable prospects of worldly pros- 
 perity, and blessed by the sanction of an approv- 
 ing family ? " 
 
 Lady Willingham looked spitefully towards 
 
312 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 her daughter, to point out the confirmation 
 contained in this impressive exordium to her 
 own maternal homily of the morning. Poor 
 Mary blushed at the implication ; — she was sick 
 of the very thoughts of Sir WilHam Wyndham, 
 and would gladly have dispensed with all 
 matrimonial allusions for the remainder of her 
 days. 
 
 Lord Lorimer, observant of these symptoms 
 of general consciousness, and reading in them 
 confirmation strong of his previous suspicions, 
 now resumed his oration. 
 
 "On this point indeed — (and to you, my 
 dear Lady Willingham, I need not scruple most 
 unfashionably to acknowledge — on most others) 
 Lady Lorimer and myself entertain a perfect 
 unanimity of opinion. We are not only satis- 
 fied, but deeply anxious, that our children 
 should settle early in life; an advantage to 
 their permanent prospects which we are even 
 willing to secure by personal sacrifices, and 
 by " 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 313 
 
 " My dear father ! " exclaimed Frederick 
 Lorimer, unable to repress his feelings of ex- 
 ultation on this most new and unexpected 
 announcement. " My dear Sir ! — This kind- 
 ness adds a thousand-fold to all our former 
 obligations towards my mother and yourself." 
 
 Lord Lorimer tried to muster a little emotion, 
 and to appear properly affected, for he sus- 
 pected that an explanation was coming ; but 
 Lady Willingham, who felt that her own hearth- 
 rug and the presence of Mesdames Darnham 
 and Dodderwell formed a very singular scene 
 for the display of the domestic sensibilities of 
 a father and son so remotely connected with 
 the family as Lord Lorimer and Frederick, 
 began to twitch her shawl, and evince divers 
 symptoms of impatience. She was herself a 
 very undemonstrative woman, and regarded a 
 sceme of any kind as superfluous and imperti- 
 nent. But she became still more vexed and 
 still more indignant when, on glancing a second 
 time towards Mary, she perceived that her 
 
 VOL. I. p 
 
314 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 blushes had given place to a death-like pale- 
 ness, and that the poor girl could scarcely keep 
 her seat. Miss Willingham had been harassed 
 during five successive hours with every variety 
 of trial that could assail a delicate mind and 
 feeling heart; and even her moral courage — - 
 great as it v^^as — could no longer maintain her 
 through the struggle. 
 
 " You are ill, dear Mary," said Mr. Lorimer 
 going towards her. " Lady Willingham, will 
 you give me leave to open a window ? — the 
 heat of the weather — the flowers — the " 
 
 " I believe, Frederick, we had better retire," 
 said Lord Lorimer, looking significantly towards 
 the mother of his future daughter-in-law. " A 
 little crisis of this description is better con- 
 signed to female management.'' 
 
 Lady Willingham wishing both him and his 
 son at Lorimer Hall, or any other remote point 
 of the United Kingdom, bade them a hasty 
 and sullen good bye ; and when they arrived 
 together at the foot of the stairs. Lord Lorimer 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 315 
 
 courteously invited his son to accompany him 
 in his low elderly phaeton as far as the House 
 of Commons ; where the hopeful head of the 
 family was to plead the cause of his constituents, 
 in an explosion of preconcerted verbosity, ex- 
 tremely well calculated to pair off the house 
 into the respectful silence of solitude. 
 
 " My dear father," exclaimed Frederick, as 
 they rounded the corner of Charles-street, 
 "how shall I express my gratitude for what 
 has fallen from your lips this morning ; or my 
 surprise that you should have so quickly pene- 
 trated my sentiments !" 
 
 " Old heads, Fred. !— old heads"— 
 
 — " Are not often connected. Sir, with so much 
 disinterested warmth of heart. I had appre- 
 hended that nothing would be more displeasing 
 to you than the prospect of my marriage so 
 early in life." 
 
 " The respectability of the Willingham family, 
 and the rare merits of the young lady you have 
 selected, form a strong argument in your favour." 
 
 P 2 
 
316 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 ** In point of fortune, howeyer, my dear 
 father — ' 
 
 " Frederick I I never was esteemed a merce- 
 nary man ; — ^fortune is, in my opinion, a very 
 secondary consideration, when compared with 
 hirth and moral character. Of course, I shall 
 immediately relinquish my Leyden plan ; — ^you 
 must get through the univeraty with as httle 
 delay as possible ; — and I have no doubt Sir 
 Joseph will set every thing straight by present- 
 ing you to the living of Heddeston." 
 
 " I wish I had any reason to hope, Sir, that 
 this would be the case ; but I suspect that very 
 httle real cordiahty subsists between him and 
 Lady Maria-''' 
 
 '' Lady Maria ! — and why should he consult 
 that silly woman about his church preferment ? 
 Let her content herself with marrying her own 
 vain, frivolous, fine-lady daughters, without in- 
 terfering in the disposal of has.'* 
 
 Mr. Lorimer was thoroughly mystified ; but 
 it was only for a moment. He scarcely dared, 
 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 317 
 
 however, stammer forth his preface to an ex- 
 planation. 
 
 " I fear, my Lord, some fatal misunderstand- 
 ing exists between us on this subject."' 
 
 " I think not, Fred.," replied his Lordship, 
 with a self-complacent smile, clumsily touching 
 his wheeler on the flank. " I am not much in 
 the habit of being mistaken in my personal con- 
 jectures. I have long seen that you were des- 
 perately in love." 
 
 " I do not deny it, Sir." 
 
 "With my respectable friend, Mr. Joseph 
 Willingham's amiable daughter." 
 
 " With Mary Willingham, my Lord ? — Good 
 God ! — how unfortunate ! — What can have pos- 
 sessed you with such a mistaken — such a fatal 
 idea?" 
 
 " Who then, Mr. Frederick Lorimer, if I may 
 presume to ask — who is the real object honoured 
 by your flattering preference ?" said his Lord- 
 ship, with dawning consciousness. 
 
318 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 
 
 " My dear father — pray excuse me from dis- 
 closing her name juvSt now." 
 
 " Upon my word, Sir !" — 
 
 *'■ Yet what have I to hope from delay ? — You 
 assure me that fortune is a minor consideration; — 
 that birth — that virtue — " 
 
 " Damn it, Sir ! speak out — what is the girl's 
 name ? — who the devil is she ?" 
 
 " Lady Maria Willingham's second daugh- 
 ter!" replied Frederick, in accents of despair. 
 
 " Eleanor Willingham ! ! '' shouted Lord Lori- 
 mer, in a lone of indignation ; *^ a beggar, by all 
 that is horrible." 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 C. WHITING, BJSAUFORT HOUSE, STRAND. 
 
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