CHAPTER XXII
October 5th. - My cup of sweets is not unmingled: it is dashed
with a bitterness that I cannot hide from myself, disguise it as I
will. I may try to persuade myself that the sweetness overpowers
it; I may call it a pleasant aromatic flavour; but say what I will,
it is still there, and I cannot but taste it. I cannot shut my
eyes to Arthur's faults; and the more I love him the more they
trouble me. His very heart, that I trusted so, is, I fear, less
warm and generous than I thought it. At least, he gave me a
specimen of his character to-day that seemed to merit a harder name
than thoughtlessness. He and Lord Lowborough were accompanying
Annabella and me in a long, delightful ride; he was riding by my
side, as usual, and Annabella and Lord Lowborough were a little
before us, the latter bending towards his companion as if in tender
and confidential discourse.
'Those two will get the start of us, Helen, if we don't look
sharp,' observed Huntingdon. 'They'll make a match of it, as sure
as can be. That Lowborough's fairly besotted. But he'll find
himself in a fix when he's got her, I doubt.'
'And she'll find herself in a fix when she's got him,' said I, 'if
what I've heard of him is true.'
'Not a bit of it. She knows what she's about; but he, poor fool,
deludes himself with the notion that she'll make him a good wife,
and because she has amused him with some rodomontade about
despising rank and wealth in matters of love and marriage, he
flatters himself that she's devotedly attached to him; that she
will not refuse him for his poverty, and does not court him for his
rank, but loves him for himself alone.'
'But is not he courting her for her fortune?'
'No, not he. That was the first attraction, certainly; but now he
has quite lost sight of it: it never enters his calculations,
except merely as an essential without which, for the lady's own
sake, he could not think of marrying her. No; he's fairly in love.
He thought he never could be again, but he's in for it once more.
He was to have been married before, some two or three years ago;
but he lost his bride by losing his fortune. He got into a bad way
among us in London: he had an unfortunate taste for gambling; and
surely the fellow was born under an unlucky star, for he always
lost thrice where he gained once. That's a mode of self-torment I
never was much addicted to. When I spend my money I like to enjoy
the full value of it: I see no fun in wasting it on thieves and
blacklegs; and as for gaining money, hitherto I have always had
sufficient; it's time enough to be clutching for more, I think,
when you begin to see the end of what you have. But I have
sometimes frequented the gaming-houses just to watch the on-goings
of those mad votaries of chance - a very interesting study, I
assure you, Helen, and sometimes very diverting: I've had many a
laugh at the boobies and bedlamites. Lowborough was quite
infatuated - not willingly, but of necessity, - he was always
resolving to give it up, and always breaking his resolutions.
Every venture was the 'just once more:' if he gained a little, he
hoped to gain a little more next time, and if he lost, it would not
do to leave off at that juncture; he must go on till he had
retrieved that last misfortune, at least: bad luck could not last
for ever; and every lucky hit was looked upon as the dawn of better
times, till experience proved the contrary. At length he grew
desperate, and we were daily on the look-out for a case of FELO-DE-
SE - no great matter, some of us whispered, as his existence had
ceased to be an acquisition to our club. At last, however, he came
to a check. He made a large stake, which he determined should be
the last, whether he lost or won. He had often so determined
before, to be sure, and as often broken his determination; and so
it was this time. He lost; and while his antagonist smilingly
swept away the stakes, he turned chalky white, drew back in
silence, and wiped his forehead. I was present at the time; and
while he stood with folded arms and eyes fixed on the ground, I
knew well enough what was passing in his mind.
'"Is it to be the last, Lowborough?" said I, stepping up to him.
'"The last but one," he answered, with a grim smile; and then,
rushing back to the table, he struck his hand upon it, and, raising
his voice high above all the confusion of jingling coins and
muttered oaths and curses in the room, he swore a deep and solemn
oath that, come what would, this trial should be the last, and
imprecated unspeakable curses on his head if ever he should shuffle
a card or rattle a dice-box again. He then doubled his former
stake, and challenged any one present to play against him. Grimsby
instantly presented himself. Lowborough glared fiercely at him,
for Grimsby was almost as celebrated for his luck as he was for his
ill-fortune. However, they fell to work. But Grimsby had much
skill and little scruple, and whether he took advantage of the
other's trembling, blinded eagerness to deal unfairly by him, I
cannot undertake to say; but Lowborough lost again, and fell dead
sick.
'"You'd better try once more," said Grimsby, leaning across the
table. And then he winked at me.
'"I've nothing to try with," said the poor devil, with a ghastly
smile.
'"Oh, Huntingdon will lend you what you want," said the other.
'"No; you heard my oath," answered Lowborough, turning away in
quiet despair. And I took him by the arm and led him out.
'"Is it to be the last, Lowborough?" I asked, when I got him into
the street.
'"The last," he answered, somewhat against my expectation. And I
took him home - that is, to our club - for he was as submissive as
a child - and plied him with brandy-and-water till he began to look
rather brighter - rather more alive, at least.
'"Huntingdon, I'm ruined!" said he, taking the third glass from my
hand - he had drunk the others in dead silence.
'"Not you," said I. "You'll find a man can live without his money
as merrily as a tortoise without its head, or a wasp without its
body.
'"But I'm in debt," said he - "deep in debt. And I can never,
never get out of it."
'"Well, what of that? Many a better man than you has lived and
died in debt; and they can't put you in prison, you know, because
you're a peer." And I handed him his fourth tumbler.
'"But I hate to be in debt!" he shouted. "I wasn't born for it,
and I cannot bear it."
'"What can't be cured must be endured," said I, beginning to mix
the fifth.
'"And then, I've lost my Caroline." And he began to snivel then,
for the brandy had softened his heart.
'"No matter," I answered, "there are more Carolines in the world
than one."
'"There's only one for me," he replied, with a dolorous sigh. "And
if there were fifty more, who's to get them, I wonder, without
money?"
'"Oh, somebody will take you for your title; and then you've your
family estate yet; that's entailed, you know."
'"I wish to God I could sell it to pay my debts," he muttered.
'"And then," said Grimsby, who had just come in, "you can try
again, you know. I would have more than one chance, if I were you.
I'd never stop here."
'"I won't, I tell you!" shouted he. And he started up, and left
the room - walking rather unsteadily, for the liquor had got into
his head. He was not so much used to it then, but after that he
took to it kindly to solace his cares.
'He kept his oath about gambling (not a little to the surprise of
us all), though Grimsby did his utmost to tempt him to break it,
but now he had got hold of another habit that bothered him nearly
as much, for he soon discovered that the demon of drink was as
black as the demon of play, and nearly as hard to get rid of -
especially as his kind friends did all they could to second the
promptings of his own insatiable cravings.'
'Then, they were demons themselves,' cried I, unable to contain my
indignation. 'And you, Mr. Huntingdon, it seems, were the first to
tempt him.'
'Well, what could we do?' replied he, deprecatingly. - 'We meant it
in kindness - we couldn't bear to see the poor fellow so
miserable:- and besides, he was such a damper upon us, sitting
there silent and glum, when he was under the threefold influence -
of the loss of his sweetheart, the loss of his fortune, and the
reaction of the lost night's debauch; whereas, when he had
something in him, if he was not merry himself, he was an unfailing
source of merriment to us. Even Grimsby could chuckle over his odd
sayings: they delighted him far more than my merry jests, or
Hattersley's riotous mirth. But one evening, when we were sitting
over our wine, after one of our club dinners, and all had been
hearty together, - Lowborough giving us mad toasts, and hearing our
wild songs, and bearing a hand in the applause, if he did not help
us to sing them himself, - he suddenly relapsed into silence,
sinking his head on his hand, and never lifting his glass to his
lips; - but this was nothing new; so we let him alone, and went on
with our jollification, till, suddenly raising his head, he
interrupted us in the middle of a roar of laughter by exclaiming, -
'Gentlemen, where is all this to end? - Will you just tell me that
now? - Where is it all to end?' He rose.
'"A speech, a speech!" shouted we. "Hear, hear! Lowborough's
going to give us a speech!"
'He waited calmly till the thunders of applause and jingling of
glasses had ceased, and then proceeded, - "It's only this,
gentlemen, - that I think we'd better go no further. We'd better
stop while we can."
'"Just so!" cried Hattersley -
"Stop, poor sinner, stop and think
Before you further go,
No longer sport upon the brink
Of everlasting woe."
'"Exactly!" replied his lordship, with the utmost gravity. "And if
you choose to visit the bottomless pit, I won't go with you - we
must part company, for I swear I'll not move another step towards
it! - What's this?' he said, taking up his glass of wine.
'"Taste it," suggested I.
'"This is hell broth!" he exclaimed. "I renounce it for ever!"
And he threw it out into the middle of the table.
'"Fill again!" said I, handing him the bottle - "and let us drink
to your renunciation."
'"It's rank poison," said he, grasping the bottle by the neck, "and
I forswear it! I've given up gambling, and I'll give up this too."
He was on the point of deliberately pouring the whole contents of
the bottle on to the table, but Hargrave wrested it from him. "On
you be the curse, then!" said he. And, backing from the room, he
shouted, "Farewell, ye tempters!" and vanished amid shouts of
laughter and applause.
'We expected him back among us the next day; but, to our surprise,
the place remained vacant: we saw nothing of him for a whole week;
and we really began to think he was going to keep his word. At
last, one evening, when we were most of us assembled together
again, he entered, silent and grim as a ghost, and would have
quietly slipped into his usual seat at my elbow, but we all rose to
welcome him, and several voices were raised to ask what he would
have, and several hands were busy with bottle and glass to serve
him; but I knew a smoking tumbler of brandy-and-water would comfort
him best, and had nearly prepared it, when he peevishly pushed it
away, saying, -
'"Do let me alone, Huntingdon! Do be quiet, all of you! I'm not
come to join you: I'm only come to be with you awhile, because I
can't bear my own thoughts." And he folded his arms, and leant
back in his chair; so we let him be. But I left the glass by him;
and, after awhile, Grimsby directed my attention towards it, by a
significant wink; and, on turning my head, I saw it was drained to
the bottom. He made me a sign to replenish, and quietly pushed up
the bottle. I willingly complied; but Lowborough detected the
pantomime, and, nettled at the intelligent grins that were passing
between us, snatched the glass from my hand, dashed the contents of
it in Grimsby's face, threw the empty tumbler at me, and then
bolted from the room.'
'I hope he broke your head,' said I.
'No, love,' replied he, laughing immoderately at the recollection
of the whole affair; 'he would have done so, - and perhaps, spoilt
my face, too, but, providentially, this forest of curls' (taking
off his hat, and showing his luxuriant chestnut locks) 'saved my
skull, and prevented the glass from breaking, till it reached the
table.'
'After that,' he continued, 'Lowborough kept aloof from us a week
or two longer. I used to meet him occasionally in the town; and
then, as I was too good-natured to resent his unmannerly conduct,
and he bore no malice against me, - he was never unwilling to talk
to me; on the contrary, he would cling to me, and follow me
anywhere but to the club, and the gaming-houses, and such-like
dangerous places of resort - he was so weary of his own moping,
melancholy mind. At last, I got him to come in with me to the
club, on condition that I would not tempt him to drink; and, for
some time, he continued to look in upon us pretty regularly of an
evening, - still abstaining, with wonderful perseverance, from the
"rank poison" he had so bravely forsworn. But some of our members
protested against this conduct. They did not like to have him
sitting there like a skeleton at a feast, instead of contributing
his quota to the general amusement, casting a cloud over all, and
watching, with greedy eyes, every drop they carried to their lips -
they vowed it was not fair; and some of them maintained that he
should either be compelled to do as others did, or expelled from
the society; and swore that, next time he showed himself, they
would tell him as much, and, if he did not take the warning,
proceed to active measures. However, I befriended him on this
occasion, and recommended them to let him be for a while,
intimating that, with a little patience on our parts, he would soon
come round again. But, to be sure, it was rather provoking; for,
though he refused to drink like an honest Christian, it was well
known to me that he kept a private bottle of laudanum about him,
which he was continually soaking at - or rather, holding off and on
with, abstaining one day and exceeding the next - just like the
spirits.
'One night, however, during one of our orgies - one of our high
festivals, I mean - he glided in, like the ghost in "Macbeth," and
seated himself, as usual, a little back from the table, in the
chair we always placed for "the spectre," whether it chose to fill
it or not. I saw by his face that he was suffering from the
effects of an overdose of his insidious comforter; but nobody spoke
to him, and he spoke to nobody. A few sidelong glances, and a
whispered observation, that "the ghost was come," was all the
notice he drew by his appearance, and we went on with our merry
carousals as before, till he startled us all by suddenly drawing in
his chair, and leaning forward with his elbows on the table, and
exclaiming with portentous solemnity, - "Well! it puzzles me what
you can find to be so merry about. What you see in life I don't
know - I see only the blackness of darkness, and a fearful looking
for of judgment and fiery indignation!"
'All the company simultaneously pushed up their glasses to him, and
I set them before him in a semicircle, and, tenderly patting him on
the back, bid him drink, and he would soon see as bright a prospect
as any of us; but he pushed them back, muttering, -
'"Take them away! I won't taste it, I tell you. I won't - I
won't!" So I handed them down again to the owners; but I saw that
he followed them with a glare of hungry regret as they departed.
Then he clasped his hands before his eyes to shut out the sight,
and two minutes after lifted his head again, and said, in a hoarse
but vehement whisper, -
'"And yet I must! Huntingdon, get me a glass!"
'"Take the bottle, man!" said I, thrusting the brandy-bottle into
his hand - but stop, I'm telling too much,' muttered the narrator,
startled at the look I turned upon him. 'But no matter,' he
recklessly added, and thus continued his relation: 'In his
desperate eagerness, he seized the bottle and sucked away, till he
suddenly dropped from his chair, disappearing under the table amid
a tempest of applause. The consequence of this imprudence was
something like an apoplectic fit, followed by a rather severe brain
fever - '
'And what did you think of yourself, sir?' said I, quickly.
'Of course, I was very penitent,' he replied. 'I went to see him
once or twice - nay, twice or thrice - or by'r lady, some four
times - and when he got better, I tenderly brought him back to the
fold.'
'What do you mean?'
'I mean, I restored him to the bosom of the club, and
compassionating the feebleness of his health and extreme lowness of
his spirits, I recommended him to "take a little wine for his
stomach's sake," and, when he was sufficiently re-established, to
embrace the media-via, ni-jamais-ni-toujours plan - not to kill
himself like a fool, and not to abstain like a ninny - in a word,
to enjoy himself like a rational creature, and do as I did; for,
don't think, Helen, that I'm a tippler; I'm nothing at all of the
kind, and never was, and never shall be. I value my comfort far
too much. I see that a man cannot give himself up to drinking
without being miserable one-half his days and mad the other;
besides, I like to enjoy my life at all sides and ends, which
cannot be done by one that suffers himself to be the slave of a
single propensity - and, moreover, drinking spoils one's good
looks,' he concluded, with a most conceited smile that ought to
have provoked me more than it did.
'And did Lord Lowborough profit by your advice?' I asked.
'Why, yes, in a manner. For a while he managed very well; indeed,
he was a model of moderation and prudence - something too much so
for the tastes of our wild community; but, somehow, Lowborough had
not the gift of moderation: if he stumbled a little to one side,
he must go down before he could right himself: if he overshot the
mark one night, the effects of it rendered him so miserable the
next day that he must repeat the offence to mend it; and so on from
day to day, till his clamorous conscience brought him to a stand.
And then, in his sober moments, he so bothered his friends with his
remorse, and his terrors and woes, that they were obliged, in self-
defence, to get him to drown his sorrows in wine, or any more
potent beverage that came to hand; and when his first scruples of
conscience were overcome, he would need no more persuading, he
would often grow desperate, and be as great a blackguard as any of
them could desire - but only to lament his own unutterable
wickedness and degradation the more when the fit was over.
'At last, one day when he and I were alone together, after
pondering awhile in one of his gloomy, abstracted moods, with his
arms folded and his head sunk on his breast, he suddenly woke up,
and vehemently grasping my arm, said, -
'"Huntingdon, this won't do! I'm resolved to have done with it."
'"What, are you going to shoot yourself?" said I.
'"No; I'm going to reform."
'"Oh, that's nothing new! You've been going to reform these twelve
months and more."
'"Yes, but you wouldn't let me; and I was such a fool I couldn't
live without you. But now I see what it is that keeps me back, and
what's wanted to save me; and I'd compass sea and land to get it -
only I'm afraid there's no chance." And he sighed as if his heart
would break.
'"What is it, Lowborough?" said I, thinking he was fairly cracked
at last.
'"A wife," he answered; "for I can't live alone, because my own
mind distracts me, and I can't live with you, because you take the
devil's part against me."
'"Who - I?"
'"Yes - all of you do - and you more than any of them, you know.
But if I could get a wife, with fortune enough to pay off my debts
and set me straight in the world - "
'"To be sure," said I.
'"And sweetness and goodness enough," he continued, "to make home
tolerable, and to reconcile me to myself, I think I should do yet.
I shall never be in love again, that's certain; but perhaps that
would be no great matter, it would enable me to choose with my eyes
open - and I should make a good husband in spite of it; but could
any one be in love with me? - that's the question. With your good
looks and powers of fascination" (he was pleased to say), "I might
hope; but as it is, Huntingdon, do you think anybody would take me
- ruined and wretched as I am?"
'"Yes, certainly."
'"Who?"
'"Why, any neglected old maid, fast sinking in despair, would be
delighted to - "
'"No, no," said he - "it must be somebody that I can love."
'"Why, you just said you never could be in love again!'
'"Well, love is not the word - but somebody that I can like. I'll
search all England through, at all events!" he cried, with a sudden
burst of hope, or desperation. "Succeed or fail, it will be better
than rushing headlong to destruction at that d-d club: so farewell
to it and you. Whenever I meet you on honest ground or under a
Christian roof, I shall be glad to see you; but never more shall
you entice me to that devil's den!"
'This was shameful language, but I shook hands with him, and we
parted. He kept his word; and from that time forward he has been a
pattern of propriety, as far as I can tell; but till lately I have
not had very much to do with him. He occasionally sought my
company, but as frequently shrunk from it, fearing lest I should
wile him back to destruction, and I found his not very
entertaining, especially as he sometimes attempted to awaken my
conscience and draw me from the perdition he considered himself to
have escaped; but when I did happen to meet him, I seldom failed to
ask after the progress of his matrimonial efforts and researches,
and, in general, he could give me but a poor account. The mothers
were repelled by his empty coffers and his reputation for gambling,
and the daughters by his cloudy brow and melancholy temper -
besides, he didn't understand them; he wanted the spirit and
assurance to carry his point.
'I left him at it when I went to the continent; and on my return,
at the year's end, I found him still a disconsolate bachelor -
though, certainly, looking somewhat less like an unblest exile from
the tomb than before. The young ladies had ceased to be afraid of
him, and were beginning to think him quite interesting; but the
mammas were still unrelenting. It was about this time, Helen, that
my good angel brought me into conjunction with you; and then I had
eyes and ears for nobody else. But, meantime, Lowborough became
acquainted with our charming friend, Miss Wilmot - through the
intervention of his good angel, no doubt he would tell you, though
he did not dare to fix his hopes on one so courted and admired,
till after they were brought into closer contact here at
Staningley, and she, in the absence of her other admirers,
indubitably courted his notice and held out every encouragement to
his timid advances. Then, indeed, he began to hope for a dawn of
brighter days; and if, for a while, I darkened his prospects by
standing between him and his sun - and so nearly plunged him again
into the abyss of despair - it only intensified his ardour and
strengthened his hopes when I chose to abandon the field in the
pursuit of a brighter treasure. In a word, as I told you, he is
fairly besotted. At first, he could dimly perceive her faults, and
they gave him considerable uneasiness; but now his passion and her
art together have blinded him to everything but her perfections and
his amazing good fortune. Last night he came to me brimful of his
new-found felicity:
'"Huntingdon, I am not a castaway!" said he, seizing my hand and
squeezing it like a vice. "There is happiness in store for me yet
- even in this life - she loves me!"
'"Indeed!" said I. "Has she told you so?"
'"No, but I can no longer doubt it. Do you not see how pointedly
kind and affectionate she is? And she knows the utmost extent of
my poverty, and cares nothing about it! She knows all the folly
and all the wickedness of my former life, and is not afraid to
trust me - and my rank and title are no allurements to her; for
them she utterly disregards. She is the most generous, high-minded
being that can be conceived of. She will save me, body and soul,
from destruction. Already, she has ennobled me in my own
estimation, and made me three times better, wiser, greater than I
was. Oh! if I had but known her before, how much degradation and
misery I should have been spared! But what have I done to deserve
so magnificent a creature?"
'And the cream of the jest,' continued Mr. Huntingdon, laughing,
'is, that the artful minx loves nothing about him but his title and
pedigree, and "that delightful old family seat."'
'How do you know?' said I.
'She told me so herself; she said, "As for the man himself, I
thoroughly despise him; but then, I suppose, it is time to be
making my choice, and if I waited for some one capable of eliciting
my esteem and affection, I should have to pass my life in single
blessedness, for I detest you all!" Ha, ha! I suspect she was
wrong there; but, however, it is evident she has no love for him,
poor fellow.'
'Then you ought to tell him so.'
'What! and spoil all her plans and prospects, poor girl? No, no:
that would be a breach of confidence, wouldn't it, Helen? Ha, ha!
Besides, it would break his heart.' And he laughed again.
'Well, Mr. Huntingdon, I don't know what you see so amazingly
diverting in the matter; I see nothing to laugh at.'
'I'm laughing at you, just now, love,' said he, redoubling his
machinations.
And leaving him to enjoy his merriment alone, I touched Ruby with
the whip, and cantered on to rejoin our companions; for we had been
walking our horses all this time, and were consequently a long way
behind. Arthur was soon at my side again; but not disposed to talk
to him, I broke into a gallop. He did the same; and we did not
slacken our pace till we came up with Miss Wilmot and Lord
Lowborough, which was within half a mile of the park-gates. I
avoided all further conversation with him till we came to the end
of our ride, when I meant to jump off my horse and vanish into the
house, before he could offer his assistance; but while I was
disengaging my habit from the crutch, he lifted me off, and held me
by both hands, asserting that he would not let me go till I had
forgiven him.
'I have nothing to forgive,' said I. 'You have not injured me.'
'No, darling - God forbid that I should! but you are angry because
it was to me that Annabella confessed her lack of esteem for her
lover.'
'No, Arthur, it is not that that displeases me: it is the whole
system of your conduct towards your friend, and if you wish me to
forget it, go now, and tell him what sort of a woman it is that he
adores so madly, and on whom he has hung his hopes of future
happiness.'
'I tell you, Helen, it would break his heart - it would be the
death of him - besides being a scandalous trick to poor Annabella.
There is no help for him now; he is past praying for. Besides, she
may keep up the deception to the end of the chapter; and then he
will be just as happy in the illusion as if it were reality; or
perhaps he will only discover his mistake when he has ceased to
love her; and if not, it is much better that the truth should dawn
gradually upon him. So now, my angel, I hope I have made out a
clear case, and fully convinced you that I cannot make the
atonement you require. What other requisition have you to make?
Speak, and I will gladly obey.'
'I have none but this,' said I, as gravely as before: 'that, in
future, you will never make a jest of the sufferings of others, and
always use your influence with your friends for their own advantage
against their evil propensities, instead of seconding their evil
propensities against themselves.'
'I will do my utmost,' said he, 'to remember and perform the
injunctions of my angel monitress;' and after kissing both my
gloved hands, he let me go.
When I entered my room, I was surprised to see Annabella Wilmot
standing before my toilet-table, composedly surveying her features
in the glass, with one hand flirting her gold-mounted whip, and the
other holding up her long habit.
'She certainly is a magnificent creature!' thought I, as I beheld
that tall, finely developed figure, and the reflection of the
handsome face in the mirror before me, with the glossy dark hair,
slightly and not ungracefully disordered by the breezy ride, the
rich brown complexion glowing with exercise, and the black eyes
sparkling with unwonted brilliance. On perceiving me, she turned
round, exclaiming, with a laugh that savoured more of malice than
of mirth, - 'Why, Helen! what have you been doing so long? I came
to tell you my good fortune,' she continued, regardless of Rachel's
presence. 'Lord Lowborough has proposed, and I have been
graciously pleased to accept him. Don't you envy me, dear?'
'No, love,' said I - 'or him either,' I mentally added. 'And do
you like him, Annabella?'
'Like him! yes, to be sure - over head and ears in love!'
'Well, I hope you'll make him a good wife.'
'Thank you, my dear! And what besides do you hope?'
'I hope you will both love each other, and both be happy.'
'Thanks; and I hope you will make a very good wife to Mr.
Huntingdon!' said she, with a queenly bow, and retired.
'Oh, Miss! how could you say so to her!' cried Rachel.
'Say what?' replied I.
'Why, that you hoped she would make him a good wife. I never heard
such a thing!'
'Because I do hope it, or rather, I wish it; she's almost past
hope.'
'Well,' said she, 'I'm sure I hope he'll make her a good husband.
They tell queer things about him downstairs. They were saying - '
'I know, Rachel. I've heard all about him; but he's reformed now.
And they have no business to tell tales about their masters.'
'No, mum - or else, they have said some things about Mr. Huntingdon
too.'
'I won't hear them, Rachel; they tell lies.'
'Yes, mum,' said she, quietly, as she went on arranging my hair.
'Do you believe them, Rachel?' I asked, after a short pause.
'No, Miss, not all. You know when a lot of servants gets together
they like to talk about their betters; and some, for a bit of
swagger, likes to make it appear as though they knew more than they
do, and to throw out hints and things just to astonish the others.
But I think, if I was you, Miss Helen, I'd look very well before I
leaped. I do believe a young lady can't be too careful who she
marries.'
'Of course not,' said I; 'but be quick, will you, Rachel? I want
to be dressed.'
And, indeed, I was anxious to be rid of the good woman, for I was
in such a melancholy frame I could hardly keep the tears out of my
eyes while she dressed me. It was not for Lord Lowborough - it was
not for Annabella - it was not for myself - it was for Arthur
Huntingdon that they rose.
* * * * *
13th. - They are gone, and he is gone. We are to be parted for
more than two months, above ten weeks! a long, long time to live
and not to see him. But he has promised to write often, and made
me promise to write still oftener, because he will be busy settling
his affairs, and I shall have nothing better to do. Well, I think
I shall always have plenty to say. But oh! for the time when we
shall be always together, and can exchange our thoughts without the
intervention of these cold go-betweens, pen, ink, and paper!
22nd. - I have had several letters from Arthur already. They are
not long, but passing sweet, and just like himself, full of ardent
affection, and playful lively humour; but there is always a 'but'
in this imperfect world, and I do wish he would sometimes be
serious. I cannot get him to write or speak in real, solid
earnest. I don't much mind it now, but if it be always so, what
shall I do with the serious part of myself?
