CHAPTER X.

And words of small import, but tinged with gall, Jar on the sense by their unkindly tone. The morning greeting may sound harsh withal, The evening benison a curse may own; While oft a smile--a kindly look alone-- Born of compunction, falls right soothingly On the sick heart, the past offence t' atone, Ere word be spoke at all. As violets shy, By their sweet breath betray where they are lurking nigh.

_Unpublished Poems._

The events of the last few weeks in London had also awakened Mr. Wroxholme to the state of his own affections; and he no sooner admitted to himself that he had been in danger of liking Lady Westhope too well, than he rejoiced in the prudence and discretion with which she had checked his growing preference, and felt grateful that he had been preserved from the danger which beset him.

During the period when London is nearly deserted, and that the few who are still detained in its dreary and dirty streets are naturally drawn into habits of closer intimacy, he was much thrown with the daughter of an eminent lawyer, with whom he often had professional intercourse.

He fancied a considerable resemblance to Lady Westhope's in the profile of her nose: her complexion was of the same tone; and he perceived a decided likeness in the setting on of the head.

When Christmas arrived Mr. Wroxholme wrote an excuse to the Westhopes, informing them that he was on the eve of marriage with the daughter of Sir H. B----, and that the arrangements attending this happy event must detain him in London. He told Lady Westhope that his future bride bore a strong resemblance to herself in outward appearance, and that he only hoped she might take her as a pattern in more essential qualifications.

How did Lady Westhope feel upon the reception of this letter? She felt exceedingly surprised, for experience only can teach woman how short a time love can survive hope in the heart of man; but she felt satisfied, nay relieved. She had for six months devoted herself to the performance of her duties,--she had repelled every weak emotion. She rejoiced that Mr. Wroxholme should be happy, she rejoiced that she would no longer be called upon to keep strict watch and ward over her own heart, and she was gratified by the manner in which he spoke of herself. The likeness which he professed to discover in Miss B. was a balm to her vanity, and prevented its obscuring her reason. She was therefore able to rejoice, as her principles pointed out she ought to do, that they had escaped all further trial.

While Lady Westhope was thus regaining tranquillity and self-esteem, Blanche toiled through a long summer of very fine weather and the usual country occupations,--through a long autumn and its shooting-parties. She had to listen to the number of head of game killed at battues, or to the merits of the young hounds or of the new huntsman; and she conscientiously danced through the winter balls at the county town.

In some respects she gave great satisfaction to the neighbours. No one could accuse her of showing the slightest preference for the most distinguished young heir apparent over the most Tony Lumpkin-like son of the most humble country 'squire, or the most penniless young curate, who might summon courage to ask Lady Blanche De Vaux to dance. Indeed, the more out-of-the-question the partner, the more gracious was Blanche; so that the popularity of the house of Falkingham was greatly on the increase. Unfortunately there was no son, or his chance of being returned for the county would have been considerably augmented: Lord Falkingham's family consisted only of daughters, among whom his personal property would be divided; while his whole landed estate would descend, with the title, to a nephew.

A second spring arrived. To London they went again. The brilliancy of Lady Blanche's complexion was gone; her step had lost its elasticity, her figure something of its roundness. The last month or two had been to her a period of much uneasiness, much mortification.

She had calculated that the intelligence of her marriage having been broken off, must have reached De Molton, and by this time she might have received from him a passionate expression of his joy and his devotion. Day after day elapsed and no letter arrived. It is impossible to say whether, suffering the pangs of (as she imagined) unrequited affection, she might not have found a remedy, as it were, in the very excess of the disease, had not a circumstance occurred which again excited hope.

Even in woman, love can seldom exist if completely deprived of aliment, though it thrives upon the very smallest portion of sustenance imaginable.

Blanche frequently met Lady Cumberworth and her daughters in society: the very sight of De Molton's mother caused a tremor and an agitation which roused her from the state of apathy into which she had fallen. Moreover, she often perceived Lady Cumberworth's eyes fixed upon her with a kind and motherly expression; and she even fancied she looked as if she longed to speak to her, although they had never been regularly introduced. Lady Falkingham watched with a jealous eye every symptom of intercourse with Lady Cumberworth; and if they found themselves within speaking distance of De Molton's mother, never failed to move to the other side of the room.

One morning Lady Falkingham complained of a cold, and promulgated at breakfast that she should not go to Mrs. Baltimore's party that evening. Now Mrs. Baltimore was a relation and a particular friend of Lady Cumberworth's. Blanche quickly replied, "Oh, do not run any risk on my account, dear mamma! You know Lady Westhope can chaperon me."

"Bless me, Blanche!" exclaimed her father; "you, wishing to go out, and your mother to stay at home! I am delighted to find young and old are resuming their natural characteristics."

"Really, Blanche," said Lady Falkingham, "I think you are the most perverse girl I ever knew. Every evening I am obliged to urge you to go and dress, to drive you by force to the best parties in London; and the one only night I would rather stay at home, you are seized with such a fury of dissipation, that you wish to send all over the town to find a chaperon! Nothing I dislike so much as that a girl should be hawked about, one night with one person, and the next night with another!"

"But surely, mamma, sending to Lady Westhope is not sending all over the town; and I was so long with her at Paris, that it is not like going out with a stranger."

"Don't talk to me of Paris, Blanche, if you wish me to be able to eat any breakfast; the sample she gave of her chaperonage there, is not calculated to make me anxious to entrust you to her again!"

"Really, my dear, I think it is you who are rather perverse: you often find fault with Blanche for wishing to shut herself up, and for not exerting herself to recover her spirits, and now you check her when she attempts to do what you so often urge. I have some business with Lord Westhope this morning, and if I find Lady Westhope at home, I cannot see any objection to my asking her to take Blanche to-night."

Lady Falkingham could say no more: she could not, before Blanche, explain her objections to Mrs. Baltimore's party. She resolved, however, to risk a fit of rheumatism, rather than allow her daughter to elude her vigilant eye.

Lord Falkingham quickly settled the evening arrangements with Lady Westhope, and as quickly took his leave, to avoid the formality of a wedding visit from Mr. and Mrs. Wroxholme, who had just returned from passing their honeymoon in the country.

Lady Westhope was exceedingly surprised to find Mrs. Wroxholme small and slender, whereas she herself was tall, and was altogether a fine woman rather than a pretty one. She was also surprised to find that her mouth was wide, (though her teeth were so bright, and her smile so sunny, that no one who spoke to her would be disposed to criticise it too severely,) whereas Lady Westhope's was peculiarly small, and classical in its form. The setting on of the head was concealed by the winter apparel; and Lady Westhope was not sufficiently well acquainted with her own profile, to be struck with any resemblance in Mrs. Wroxholme's. She scarcely knew whether or not to be flattered at Mr. Wroxholme's having fancied a likeness where so little existed; and yet it proved that she had been present to his thoughts, and that he could not admire any one without trying to discover in her a resemblance to the person he had fixed upon as the type of female perfection.

Mr. Wroxholme looked the happiest of the happy. Mrs. Wroxholme was modest without being awkward, and did not seem to be indisposed towards her husband's friend, as is so frequently the case when the husband has injudiciously praised, or the woman has a narrow mind or a jealous disposition. On the contrary, she seemed disposed to take it upon trust, that the person of whom her husband approved must be deserving of esteem.

Lady Westhope was much pleased with all she saw of the bride in this morning visit; and she was gratified by her evident inclination to like, and her desire to be liked. When they were taking leave, she took an opportunity of expressing to Mr. Wroxholme, how much she was flattered at his having found any resemblance between so charming a person as his young wife, and herself. Mr. Wroxholme looked surprised, and wholly unconscious to what she could allude; then suddenly recollecting himself--"Oh yes, so I did! I thought Emma very like you when first I knew her; but I have not been so much struck with the likeness of late."

The truth was, that since he had become so exceedingly in love with his wife, as he now was, he had utterly forgotten what had at first been to him her greatest attraction. With the generality of men, love, when once over, leaves not a trace behind. With women, on the contrary, a person whom they have once loved, or even one by whom they once believed themselves to be sincerely loved, remains to them an object of interest, though the sentiment itself may long have ceased to exist.

Lady Westhope felt almost abashed when she replied in an explanatory tone--"I should not have had the vanity to make such a remark, if, in announcing your marriage, you had not yourself mentioned the resemblance."

Mrs. Wroxholme, who caught what was passing, said with such an air of honesty, that she was "really distressed at hearing the comparison made," and looked as if she sincerely thought Lady Westhope so much handsomer than herself, that Lady Westhope felt gratitude towards the wife, mixed with a momentary (it was but a momentary) emotion of pique towards the husband.

To Lady Falkingham's infinite annoyance, her cold increased towards the evening--she was threatened with the tooth-ache--the night was extremely cold; she could not, without openly saying she would not trust her daughter out of her sight, insist upon accompanying her to Mrs. Baltimore's; neither was her illness such that she could make it a pretext for keeping Blanche at home.

Meanwhile Blanche looked unusually animated at dinner, and her father rejoiced exultingly to see her dark hazel eyes sparkle once more with the rich lustre which was natural to them. Lady Falkingham, on the contrary, was suffering, and uncomfortable, both in body and mind. Her tone was querulous; and she found it impossible to agree either with her husband or daughter upon any subject, whether of literature, society, or politics. She felt provoked and oppressed by the unaccountable spirits of both father and daughter.

Lord Falkingham had been trying to talk his wife into good-humour, and, nothing daunted by the ill success which had as yet attended his efforts, he proceeded: "I find Mapleton is quite sure of the county if he stands next election."

"That is very odd!" said Lady Falkingham: "Mr. Evans told me that Mr. Talpoys had eight hundred votes to spare."

"Well! Mapleton himself told me he had more than fifteen hundred to spare."

"I do not believe Mr. Mapleton knows anything at all about the matter. He believes what his agents tell him; and they wish him to persist in his opposition to Mr. Talpoys, that they may make their own perquisites."

"Mapleton must be a great fool if he is so taken in."

"I never heard he was clever," answered Lady Falkingham, with a sarcastic smile.

"How pretty the new lamps look!" remarked Lady Blanche, who knew that her father had a regard for Mr. Mapleton, and did not like to hear him spoken of slightingly. "I think they give a most agreeable, soft light,--do not you, mamma?"

"I cannot say I agree with you, my dear. To my mind, they are not near so pretty as the old ones."

Lord Falkingham, who always felt a vague uneasiness whenever he saw his wife look out of spirits, as he amiably termed and thought what others might have deemed being out of humour, made another attempt to say something agreeable.

"Is that pretty cap the handiwork of your new maid, my dear? If it is, I think she is likely to suit you."

"My dear Lord Falkingham, you mean to be very complimentary, I dare say; but it would be infinitely more complimentary if you had recognised the old friend you have seen me wear half the winter at Temple Loseley."

This was another failure; but he laughed at his own mistake, said he evidently was not born to be a milliner, and remarked what a good _vol-au-vent_ he was eating.

"I am glad you like it. I thought it very bad, I must confess, and had meant to speak to the cook about it; but I will tell him you approve."

Lord Falkingham was provoked at last. He piqued himself upon his taste in gastronomy, and did not at all like any one presuming to have a more refined palate than his own. Little more was said.

Blanche counted the moments till Lady Westhope called for her, with something of the same eagerness she would have done had it been De Molton, instead of De Molton's mother, whom she expected to meet.

To her great joy, the first person she saw on entering the room was Lady Cumberworth; and she felt, she knew not wherefore, that this evening was big with events of the utmost importance.