CHAPTER IX.
THE greater part of them seemed to be charmed with his presence.
MACKENZIE: _The Man of the World_.
IT was with the greatest difficulty that Evelyn could at last be
persuaded to consent to the separation from her mother; she wept bitterly
at the thought. But Lady Vargrave, though touched, was firm, and her
firmness was of that soft, imploring character which Evelyn never could
resist. The visit was to last some months, it is true, but she would
return to the cottage; she would escape, too--and this, perhaps,
unconsciously reconciled her more than aught else--the periodical visit
of Lord Vargrave. At the end of July, when the parliamentary session at
that unreformed era usually expired, he always came to Brook-Green for a
month. His last visits had been most unwelcome to Evelyn, and this next
visit she dreaded more than she had any of the former ones. It is
strange,--the repugnance with which she regarded the suit of her
affianced!--she, whose heart was yet virgin; who had never seen any one
who, in form, manner, and powers to please, could be compared to the gay
Lord Vargrave. And yet a sense of honour, of what was due to her dead
benefactor, her more than father,--all combated that repugnance, and left
her uncertain what course to pursue, uncalculating as to the future. In
the happy elasticity of her spirits, and with a carelessness almost
approaching to levity, which, to say truth, was natural to her, she did
not often recall the solemn engagement that must soon be ratified or
annulled; but when that thought did occur, it saddened her for hours, and
left her listless and despondent. The visit to Mrs. Merton was, then,
finally arranged, the day of departure fixed, when, one morning, came the
following letter from Lord Vargrave himself:--
To the LADY VARGRAVE, etc.
MY DEAR FRIEND,--I find that we have a week's holiday in our do-nothing
Chamber, and the weather is so delightful, that I long to share its
enjoyment with those I love best. You will, therefore, see me almost as
soon as you receive this; that is, I shall be with you at dinner on the
same day. What can I say to Evelyn? Will you, dearest Lady Vargrave,
make her accept all the homage which, when uttered by me, she seems half
inclined to reject?
In haste, most affectionately yours,
VARGRAVE.
HAMILTON PLACE, April 30, 18--.
This letter was by no means welcome, either to Mrs. Leslie or to Evelyn.
The former feared that Lord Vargrave would disapprove of a visit, the
real objects of which could scarcely be owned to him; the latter was
reminded of all she desired to forget. But Lady Vargrave herself rather
rejoiced at the thought of Lumley's arrival. Hitherto, in the spirit of
her passive and gentle character, she had taken the engagement between
Evelyn and Lord Vargrave almost as a matter of course. The will and wish
of her late husband operated most powerfully on her mind; and while
Evelyn was yet in childhood, Lumley's visits had ever been acceptable,
and the playful girl liked the gay and good-humoured lord, who brought
her all sorts of presents, and appeared as fond of dogs as herself. But
Evelyn's recent change of manner, her frequent fits of dejection and
thought, once pointed out to Lady Vargrave by Mrs. Leslie, aroused all
the affectionate and maternal anxiety of the former. She was resolved to
watch, to examine, to scrutinize, not only Evelyn's reception of
Vargrave, but, as far as she could, the manner and disposition of
Vargrave himself. She felt how solemn a trust was the happiness of a
whole life; and she had that romance of heart, learned from Nature, not
in books, which made her believe that there could be no happiness in a
marriage without love.
The whole family party were on the lawn, when, an hour earlier than he
was expected, the travelling carriage of Lord Vargrave was whirled along
the narrow sweep that conducted from the lodge to the house. Vargrave,
as he saw the party, kissed his hand from the window; and leaping from
the carriage, when it stopped at the porch, hastened to meet his hostess.
"My dear Lady Vargrave, I am so glad to see you! You are looking
charmingly; and Evelyn?--oh, there she is; the dear coquette, how lovely
she is! how she has improved! But who [sinking his voice], who are those
ladies?"
"Guests of ours,--Mrs. Leslie, whom you have often heard us speak of, but
never met--"
"Yes; and the others?"
"Her daughter and grandchild."
"I shall be delighted to know them."
A more popular manner than Lord Vargrave's it is impossible to conceive.
Frank and prepossessing, even when the poor and reckless Mr. Ferrers,
without rank or reputation, his smile, the tone of his voice, his
familiar courtesy,--apparently so inartificial and approaching almost to
a boyish bluntness of good-humour,--were irresistible in the rising
statesman and favoured courtier.
Mrs. Merton was enchanted with him; Caroline thought him, at the first
glance, the most fascinating person she had ever seen; even Mrs. Leslie,
more grave, cautious, and penetrating, was almost equally pleased with
the first impression; and it was not till, in his occasional silence, his
features settled into their natural expression that she fancied she
detected in the quick suspicious eye and the close compression of the
lips the tokens of that wily, astute, and worldly character, which, in
proportion as he had risen in his career, even his own party reluctantly
and mysteriously assigned to one of their most prominent leaders.
When Vargrave took Evelyn's hand, and raised it with meaning gallantry to
his lips, the girl first blushed deeply, and then turned pale as death;
nor did the colour thus chased away soon return to the transparent cheek.
Not noticing signs which might bear a twofold interpretation, Lumley, who
seemed in high spirits, rattled away on a thousand matters,--praising the
view, the weather, the journey, throwing out a joke here and a compliment
there, and completing his conquest over Mrs. Merton and Caroline.
"You have left London in the very height of its gayety, Lord Vargrave,"
said Caroline, as they sat conversing after dinner.
"True, Miss Merton; but the country is in the height of its gayety too."
"Are you so fond of the country, then?"
"By fits and starts; my passion for it comes in with the early
strawberries, and goes out with the hautboys. I lead so artificial a
life; but then I hope it is a useful one. I want nothing but a home to
make it a happy one."
"What is the latest news?--dear London! I am so sorry Grandmamma, Lady
Elizabeth, is not going there this year, so I am compelled to rusticate.
Is Lady Jane D----- to be married at last?"
"Commend me to a young lady's idea of news,--always marriage! Lady Jane
D-----! yes, she is to be married, as you say--_at last_! While she was
a beauty, our cold sex was shy of her; but she has now faded into
plainness,--the proper colour for a wife."
"Complimentary!"
"Indeed it is--for you beautiful women we love too much for our own
happiness--heigho!--and a prudent marriage means friendly indifference,
not rapture and despair. But give me beauty and love; I never was
prudent: it is not my weakness."
Though Caroline was his sole supporter in this dialogue, Lord Vargrave's
eyes attempted to converse with Evelyn, who was unusually silent and
abstracted. Suddenly Lord Vargrave seemed aware that he was scarcely
general enough in his talk for his hearers. He addressed himself to Mrs.
Leslie, and glided back, as it were, into a former generation. He spoke
of persons gone and things forgotten; he made the subject interesting
even to the young, by a succession of various and sparkling anecdotes.
No one could be more agreeable; even Evelyn now listened to him with
pleasure, for to all women wit and intellect have their charm. But still
there was a cold and sharp levity in the tone of the man of the world
that prevented the charm sinking below the surface. To Mrs. Leslie he
seemed unconsciously to betray a laxity of principle; to Evelyn, a want
of sentiment and heart. Lady Vargrave, who did not understand a
character of this description, listened attentively, and said to herself,
"Evelyn may admire, but I fear she cannot love him." Still, time passed
quickly in Lumley's presence, and Caroline thought she had never spent so
pleasant an evening.
When Lord Vargrave retired to his room, he threw himself in his chair,
and yawned with exceeding fervour. His servant arranged his
dressing-robe, and placed his portfolios and letter-boxes on the table.
"What o'clock is it?" said Lumley.
"Very early, my lord; only eleven."
"The devil! The country air is wonderfully exhausting. I am very
sleepy; you may go."
"This little girl," said Lumley, stretching himself, "is preternaturally
shy. I must neglect her no longer--yet it is surely all safe? She has
grown monstrous pretty; but the other girl is more amusing, more to my
taste, and a much easier conquest, I fancy. Her great dark eyes seem
full of admiration for my lordship. Sensible young woman! she may be
useful in piquing Evelyn."
