CHAPTER IX.

Gentil parlar, in cui chiaro refulse Con somma cortesia, somma onestate; Fior di virtù; fontana di beltate; Ch' ogni basso pensier del cor m'avulse.

Petrarca.

Lady Westhope's praises of Mr. Wroxholme, and her intimation of his early intimacy with Captain De Molton, led Lady Blanche to talk to him with more satisfaction than to any one else. When in conversation with him, her countenance resumed some of its former animation; and they frequently met, and always met with pleasure.

One evening Mr. Wroxholme had been recounting to Lady Blanche some boyish prank at school, in which he had contrived to let her know that De Molton had been engaged; she had been listening with an expression of amusement, which had been succeeded by a look, half confusion, half tenderness, on the incidental mention of De Molton's name, when Mr. Stapleford remarked to Lady Westhope, "I think the conversation in that recess seems to justify the report I heard yesterday."

"What report?" inquired Lady Westhope.

"Why, that Wroxholme might succeed in consoling Lady Blanche for the loss of her penniless, as well as of her wealthy, lover."

"Oh, what an idea!" exclaimed Lady Westhope.

"I assure you the report is very general, and I think there can be no doubt but that Wroxholme is very much in love."

"There never was so unfounded a notion! What could put it into anybody's head?"

"Though no blue-stocking, I presume Lady Westhope knows enough of optics to be aware that the rays of light reflected from objects actually before us, passing through the different lenses of the eye, are impressed upon the retina, and are, by some process beyond the comprehension of us poor mortals, thence communicated to the brain: in plain English, Lady Westhope has heard the old adage, that seeing is believing."

His eyes, when he began to speak, were fixed upon Lady Blanche, who was diligently picking to pieces the bouquet she held in her hand; (Mr. Wroxholme was telling her what a good-hearted fellow Frank De Molton was at school, and how kind he had been to a poor boy who had been run over by a cart;) but as he finished his sentence, he withdrew his most penetrating and disagreeable eyes from the couple, whose feelings he, for once, misinterpreted, and let them fall gently and fixedly on Lady Westhope.

"I can assure you, you are perfectly mistaken in this instance," Lady Westhope replied with some quickness. "Lady Blanche is only likely to be perseveringly, foolishly, constant; and as to Mr. Wroxholme's being in love with her, it is quite out of the question."

"Why out of the question?" asked Mr. Stapleford, with the most provoking matter-of-fact coolness.

Lady Westhope did not very well know why it was so; but she answered--

"Oh, he is not the sort of man to fall in love with Blanche."

"He is an odd sort of man, then, if it is out of the question for him to fall in love with one of the handsomest girls in London, who plucks off every leaf of a beautiful camellia while he is talking to her! A prepossession in another quarter might steel a man's heart even against such attractions as those I have alluded to; and I have no doubt Lady Westhope is better versed in the mysterious workings of the human heart than I can pretend to be. I must bow therefore to her superior knowledge of the state of Mr. Wroxholme's affections;"--and, with a supercilious bow, he joined a knot of politicians.

Lady Westhope felt prodigiously annoyed. She could not tell why she disliked so much to hear that Mr. Wroxholme was in love with Lady Blanche. There was no harm in it if he was. She looked upon him as a man with whom a woman might be very happy; and, although not rich, he had a competency. Why was she so certain he entertained no particular preference for her friend? and why did she feel aggrieved at the suspicion? It could not be that, at her age, after having passed unscathed through all the trials of her youth, her own heart was in any danger? What a humiliating, what a degrading surmise! She felt almost ashamed of suspecting herself of such a weakness; one that she would always have thought criminal, but that now would be ridiculous as well as criminal. It was evident, however, that Mr. Stapleford did suspect her of harbouring so ridiculous a prepossession, and she scrutinized her own feelings with resolute accuracy.

The truth was, that she had been accustomed for some months to feel herself the first object with Mr. Wroxholme; and although no words ever passed which expressed, or implied, that such might be the case, it was that consciousness which made her find his society so agreeable. She had felt so secure that she was past the age when she need guard her heart from tender impressions, that she had relaxed in her former watchfulness; she had felt so strong in her virtue, that she had not taken heed lest she might fall; and it was with a sense of deep humiliation and self-abasement that she awoke to a conviction of her weakness. She thenceforth resolved to keep strict watch and ward over her inward feelings, as well as over her outward actions.

These resolutions were more easily taken than carried into effect: she had no right to assume coldness towards a person who had never given her the slightest cause of offence, who had never presumed upon the intimate footing to which he had been admitted in the house.

How difficult is it, with the very best intentions, for a woman who lives in the world to steer entirely clear of suspicion, or misinterpretation, unless there exists between her and her husband a frank and cordial understanding! If, with all her knowledge of the world, Lady Westhope did not find it easy to shape her conduct so as to be discreet without prudery, and cool without unkindness, it is not surprising that the inexperienced should, without really deserving it, occasionally lay themselves open to blame.

The subject of love is one which young ladies are not allowed to discuss; at least, not with their elders. But how much have parents to answer for, who, by their avoidance of the subject, leave the responsibility of forming their daughters' minds on a point of such vital importance, to the man whom they may chance to marry! How much has the husband to answer for, who, by his neglect, his sternness, or his profligate notions, fails to become the guardian of the virtue he is bound to protect! Yet, by light conversation, by reporting gossiping anecdotes, and witty though immoral jokes, how frequently does he treat with levity, and make the subject of mirth and ridicule, errors, nay crimes, which hitherto the girlish matron has scarcely ventured to contemplate! Is it wonderful that the young mind should sometimes, when it fancies it only throws off the shackles of old-fashioned prejudice, discard at the same time the restraint of rigid principle? And the husband who has thus contaminated the fountain whence the actions flow, is surprised and indignant that the purity he once admired should have given place to notions more resembling his own! Is it surprising that a young creature, whose mind is thus deprived of ballast and of rudder, should in the voyage of life fail to steer clear of shoals and hidden reefs?

Fortunately, Lady Westhope had withstood the first trial,--that of being early united to an unprincipled man; and she had now acquired knowledge of the world, which enabled her to meet her present difficulty.

She debated within herself whether talking to him freely concerning marriage, and advising one, who appeared to entertain such exalted notions of the happiness to be found in the wedded state, to enter into it himself, might not be a good mode of proving how completely she considered herself in the light of a friend, though of a kind friend deeply interested in his welfare; but, upon the whole, she decided that it was entering upon a dangerous topic. It might be construed into the common artifice of coquettes to pique, or to lead to sentimental conversation; and if, unknown to himself, he did entertain for her the feelings she more than suspected, it might open his eyes to the true nature of them, as Mr. Stapleford's insinuations had opened hers.

In her early youth she had made to herself a rule never to admit male visitors in the morning: but, since she had approached the middle age, she had gradually relaxed in the strictness of her prohibition; and gentlemen now lounged on her sofas, and whipped their boots before her fire, as freely as in any other house in London; and no one more frequently than Mr. Wroxholme. These visits, in the first place, she resolved to check; but she knew that an explanation was always a thing to be most scrupulously avoided. By remaining late in her boudoir, and denying herself to all persons equally, on the plea of not being dressed; by seizing every opportunity of taking an early drive into the country; she for some time succeeded in her object, without wounding one whose only fault consisted in regarding her with respectful partiality. When he did find her at home, she received him cordially, and he was for the moment re-assured that she had not intentionally avoided his society. When they met in public, though she spoke to him but little, she carefully preserved the tone of friendliness and intimacy.

Still, in the long run, gently and gradually as the change was made, Mr. Wroxholme perceived that there was a change. He could not but become aware that he was less frequently invited to dinner; and when invited, that it was to large set parties, and not to the hasty repast before the play, the friendly gathering of a few intimates; and he could not but be struck with the numerous avocations and engagements which so often prevented his finding Lady Westhope at home of a morning.

In the course of time, he became hurt and half angry. He had always heard that fine ladies were apt to be capricious, and his pride was wounded: he was a gentleman in mind, in manners, and in birth; and his spirit rose at the bare suspicion of having been so sported with. He, in his turn, avoided Lady Westhope, and this was the severest trial she had yet met with.

They still, however, occasionally met; for both parties wished to preserve the same demeanour towards the other. Mr. Wroxholme took an opportunity of expatiating upon the meanness of those men who could condescend to be toad-eaters and hangers-on of the great: "He had no notion how any one with the feelings of a gentleman could endure being take up, and set down, at pleasure;" and asserted, "that a man who could submit to such treatment, amply deserved to meet with it!" There was a tone of asperity in his mode of speaking which proved that his was not a general observation on men and manners, but that he spoke from personal feeling. She was inexpressibly hurt, and she determined she would, by some means, let him know she was not one of the heartless fine ladies to whom he alluded.

The evening before their departure for the country, she invited a few friends to meet at her house; and, among others, Mr. Wroxholme. She had formed no distinct plan; and yet she vaguely hoped she should be able to undeceive him, and to correct the impression he had so erroneously received of her late conduct.

Notwithstanding his wounded pride, he could not resist the temptation to pass one more evening in her society.

The party was small, the conversation general: subjects of literature were discussed; the novels of the day were naturally mentioned. From them she easily led the discourse to the French novels of the day that is passed, and she took the opportunity of remarking how just were the little observations and reflections with which they were often interspersed. Mr. Wroxholme added, that in knowledge of the smaller workings of the human heart, he thought Madame de Genlis was scarcely inferior to Madame de Staël.

"But none of Madame de Genlis's are equal in power to Delphine," replied Lady Westhope.

"Are you a great admirer of Delphine?" inquired some one.

"A great admirer of the eloquence and fire with which it is written; and if the motto at the beginning is borne in mind, the truth of which is forcibly exemplified by the fate of both the hero and heroine, I think a great moral truth may be extracted from it; though I grant that the charm thrown around immoral feelings might render it a dangerous book for the young."

"And what is the motto?"

"'Que l'homme doit braver l'opinion, la femme s'y soumettre.' All the miseries of Leonce and Delphine arise from their neither of them following the maxim contained in the motto. How fortunate it is for us women, that the opinion of the world, and virtue, always prescribe the same line of conduct! There are many occasions in which it is praise-worthy, nay, admirable, in a man to risk the censure of his fellows; many in which he may act ill without risking it. But with us it is quite different: it is seldom that we incur the condemnation of our own consciences, or the disapprobation of others, if we avoid not only what is really wrong, but that which may bear the semblance of wrong."

"Well," interrupted a young man present, "I think it is enough for man, or woman, to do what is right, and to leave appearances to take care of themselves."

"I am glad it is a man, not a woman, who says so," resumed Lady Westhope, smiling. "I am always grieved and alarmed when I hear a woman speak with contempt of the opinion of the world: it argues in her neither good feeling, cleverness, nor true courage. True courage (in woman) consists in at once giving up what may be agreeable and innocent in itself, rather than risk having one's good name called in question."

Mr. Wroxholme had listened with interest, for his attention had been arrested by the earnestness with which Lady Westhope spoke. He suddenly understood all that had previously puzzled him in her conduct. He admired and respected her; and his wounded pride, his offended vanity, were soothed.

When she bade him adieu, she expressed a hope that he would join their Christmas party at Cransley; she did not invite him for partridge-shooting in September, as she had done the previous year. He felt that she meant to be kind, yet firm; and although the intervening six months appeared to him immeasurably long in perspective, he had too much principle himself to blame her, or to repine.

There was a cordiality in the respectful devotion with which Mr. Wroxholme took his leave, which convinced Lady Westhope that he no longer looked upon her as a capricious fine lady, but as a woman of rigid, uncompromising virtue.

She felt, however, lowered in her own estimation when she could not disguise from herself how great an effort it cost her to exercise this same virtue; and she was indignant, almost disgusted, with herself when she found her home cheerless, and her time unoccupied, upon her arrival in the country. This very feeling roused her to shake off the disgraceful weakness; and she resumed her wonted employments, and strove to make to herself new ones.