CHAPTER XIV.

Lordly gallants, tell me this: Though my safe content you weigh not, In your greatness what one bliss Have you gain'd, that I enjoy not?

You have honours, you have wealth,-- I have peace, and I have health; All the day I merry make, And at night no care I take.

George Wither.

The honeymoon was spent at Sir Frederick Vyneton's villa; whose man-cook and whole establishment were devoted to the new-married couple, while the good-natured proprietor was making a tour in the Low Countries.

When Captain and Lady Blanche De Molton entered the dark-green travelling chariot which Lord Falkingham had given them, and drove from the portico of Sir Frederick Vyneton's villa, on their way to Cransley to pass a fortnight with the Westhopes, Lady Blanche exclaimed, "How strange it is that there should exist people who can sell themselves for money, or for an establishment! Should we be happier, Frank, if we possessed the mines of Golconda, than we are now?" She threw her beaming eyes upon him with an expression of joyous tenderness which made him indeed feel himself the happiest of men; yet he trembled to think how little she knew the details of that poverty with which he was already acquainted, although only in the limited degree experienced by a single man, whose wants, and consequently whose privations, are merely personal.

"Dearest Blanche," he replied, "you know nothing of poverty yet. Repeat what you have just said, two years hence, and I shall indeed esteem myself the most blessed of human beings. I hold it a matter of duty and of conscience to live within one's means whatever they may be; and if, when you really have learned what is the life of a soldier's wife, you still say you despise worldly wealth, I shall be happier--yes, still happier--than I am at this moment; for I now feel as if you had engaged yourself in a fate you are not prepared for. But I have warned you, dearest Blanche--I have not won you under false pretences!"

"We shall see," replied Blanche, smilingly. "I think I am made for a poor man's wife; for nobody can more heartily detest everything appertaining to pomp and splendour, and that odious thing called money."

Blanche expected a rapturous glance of gratitude from De Molton, and was surprised at hearing him sigh. The truth was, they knew little of each other's dispositions when they became irrevocably engaged. Blanche was warm, enthusiastic, inconsiderate; she followed her impulses, without looking forward beyond the present moment. De Molton was not without enthusiasm, but his was of a more thoughtful and serious cast. A high notion of honour was in him paramount to all other considerations. It enabled him to leave Paris when he found his friend was in love with Blanche,--it enabled him to quit England when he discovered that she was in love with himself,--it enabled him to stay in India while there was any military duty to be performed,--it prompted him to throw himself at her feet when he found her still free, although by so doing he scarcely hoped for anything but a contemptuous refusal on the part of her parents. It now made him resolve that his love for his beautiful wife should not lead him into any expenses which his limited income could not meet; and that, however painful he might find it to see her deprived of the luxuries to which she had been accustomed, he would never be tempted to run into debt, or to be a burthen upon his father, who was neither able nor willing to assist him.

But when he made this resolution, he did not look forward with unmixed pleasure to installing her in the temporary home which he should be able to procure for her, near M * * *. She watched the serious expression of his countenance; and she admired that expression, though she wished at this moment to dispel it;--nor was it long before she succeeded in driving away all traces of care from his countenance.

Several agreeable visits succeeded that to Cransley; and at last, when they approached the neighbourhood of M * * *, he left her for a few days at the house of a cousin, while he preceded her to his quarters, for the purpose of preparing some comfortable habitation for her reception.

He was fortunate enough to find a very pretty cottage, with a veranda and a garden, to be let, within a mile of the town. He arranged the furniture so as to make it look as little like a lodging-house as possible; he unpacked all the presents which had, at a considerable expense, been forwarded to M * * *; and before Blanche joined him, he had so disposed the buhl clock, the ink-stands, the paper-cutters, the letter-pressers, the Persian table-covers, and the low, luxurious, well-cushioned arm-chair which Lady Cumberworth insisted should form part of the camp equipage, as to give the room a look of home.

De Molton hastened to receive Blanche at the door, and ushered her, with more complacency and satisfaction than he had anticipated, through the narrow entrance, into the treillaged drawing-room.

It was a lovely evening! The flowers had not yet all faded,--the little garden was bright in the western sun. The view was enchanting!--rich varieties of luxuriant trees clothed the undulating slope to the sea-shore, and the clear blue sea, at a little distance, which from their elevated situation reflected to their eye the azure of the heavens, formed as it were a background to the wooded bank.

Blanche was enchanted. "How lovely, how beautiful! Oh, what are castles, halls, abbeys, parks, or palaces, to such a home as this, with the person one loves?"

De Molton was indeed happy--too happy for utterance. A tear gathered in his eye, which he was almost ashamed should be seen even by his wife,--and yet he could not avert his eyes from hers when she looked up so tenderly in his face. He gently drew her arm within his own, and they walked forth to enjoy in the fulness of their hearts the beauties of nature, and the delight of enjoying them together.

Thanks to the snow-white table-cloth, the handsome plate, the presents of Lord Falkingham; the pretty dinner service, that of Lord Cumberworth; the lovely dessert service, that of Lady Cumberworth; the cut-glass bottles, that of the eldest Miss De Molton; the tea-things, that of Miss M. De Molton; the breakfast-things, that of Miss J. De Molton; the silver urn, that of one of Blanche's married sisters; and the silver coffee-pot, that of another; the first four-and-twenty hours of Blanche's life as the mistress of her own house, passed in a state of rapture and of constant exclamations at the uselessness and contemptibility of money.

She forgot that she was all this time enjoying money's worth, and that indifference to worldly advantages is not put to the test while a person possesses every luxury, every elegance, though on a small scale,--at the moment of all others, too, when married lovers wish only for the enjoyment of each other's society.

One of the soldiers, who had been trained by De Molton to act as his valet, served as footman. His horses were, of course, taken care of in the barracks; and as he had a gig, they were able to drive every day in different directions, exploring new parts of the delightful country around. Blanche's life was a day-dream of delight--her rich hazel eyes sparkled with feeling and gaiety--her rosy lips smiled joyously whenever De Molton entered the room: to her

"This earth was all one beautiful dream."

Still, De Molton felt that Blanche had not steadily and dispassionately weighed the advantages and disadvantages of their present situation, and that it was not with a thorough knowledge of what she was undertaking that she had made choice of poverty with him.

Too much reliance must not be placed on those who, having never had a wish ungratified in the way of worldly conveniences, profess to despise them. If those who have already experienced privation deliberately form a poor marriage, we may conclude that they will know how to abide by the selection they have made, and we need not anticipate for them mortification and disappointment.

De Molton, from his early youth, had had many opportunities of seeing the real details of a married officer's life; and though, for the sake of the woman he loved, he gladly encountered the difficulties which he knew awaited him, he was thoroughly aware what they were, and he regretted that she should be exposed to them. He almost trembled at her exuberant happiness, knowing that he might not always procure for her a pretty cottage orné in the neighbourhood of his barracks, and that they should not always be quartered in so cheap a country as Devonshire.

He would rather have seen her more soberly contented; and when she, proud as it were of being so happy, looked towards him for applause, she was half-mortified at the flatness with which her unworldly sentiments were received.

These sentiments were not so frequently expressed as the season advanced. The flowers were all gone; the little garden was very damp; the veranda kept out the sun, and the windows did not keep out the wind; the roof did not always exclude the rain; and black beetles abounded on the ground floor, and sometimes a stray one mounted to the bed-rooms. The walks were muddy, the drives were windy, the trees had lost their foliage, and the chimneys smoked.

One evening, as they left the little dining-room, and entered the small drawing-room, they were half-stifled with smoke.--"Oh, dearest Frank! make haste and open the window, or we shall be smothered." But the window was a French window, and the wind set that way. There was no fastening it open so as not to run the risk of breaking it, or letting in a perfect hurricane. They agreed to open door, and window, and to return to the dining-room till the atmosphere was once more fit for respiration.

This desirable result was soon accomplished, as small rooms are soon filled with smoke, soon cleared, soon warmed, and soon cooled. Accordingly, when they re-entered their snug apartment, they might as well have established themselves under the veranda, for any benefit they derived from the fire, which was only now beginning to burn. "This is the only objection to small rooms!" exclaimed Lady Blanche. "If one keeps the doors shut, they become oppressively hot; and if one opens a door or a window, they are as cold as if they had never been inhabited."

"It is very true indeed," rejoined De Molton: "shall I fetch you a shawl, dearest Blanche?"

"Thank you, dearest Frank, I think it would be comfortable:" and she drew her chair close to the fire, and placed her feet upon the fender, when a great puff of black smoke turned back from the chimney, as if to fly in her face. She quickly pushed back her chair. "How stupid that Devonshire girl is--she always will heap the grate with small coals. Surely a housemaid's business is to know how to light a fire!"

"It is, indeed; but I am afraid a raw Devonshire girl is not likely to be an accomplished housemaid." And De Molton hastened out of the room to seek his dear Blanche's shawl.

"Now, Frank, you must read to me while I work: that will be so comfortable! and I have a great deal of work to do. I shall show you what a good poor man's wife I am!" She took out of her delicate ivory work-box a small cap of tiny dimensions, which she was beginning to embroider with the most intricate patterns.

De Molton looked really pleased, and smiled upon her with the gentle sentimental smile which had always appeared so bewitching.

The room became warmer, the fire clearer; the shawl was very tenderly arranged by De Molton himself; and they sat down to pass a comfortable, domestic, and rational evening.

"What book shall I read to you?" inquired De Molton. "Some of your own youthful library, which your mother so kindly sent after us?"

"Oh no! I know all those books by heart; but you have some of your own upon that shelf. I dare say they will be quite new to me."

"I dare say they will, dearest, for they are all upon military tactics, engineering, and fortification,--Vauban, Coehorn, and Jomini, &c."

"Oh, that will never do," rejoined Blanche. "But there are some novels from the circulating library at M * * *, which I have not yet looked at. I dare say that you will find something to amuse, though it may not instruct us."

He turned over the volumes--the usual trash of a country town library--Lady Evelinas and Altendorfs, and Cecilias and Mortimers, Albertinas and Ildelheims, Eleanoras and Miraldinis, by the dozen. They attempted one or two, but could not proceed beyond the first three pages.

"Dearest Frank, why would you not subscribe to a London library, as I begged you to do? You see these books are not readable."

"The expense of the carriage, dear Blanche, as well as that of the original subscription, made me very unwilling to do so. Moreover, even the London libraries do not supply one with very good books, when one is at such a distance in the country."

"Well! we will return these horrors, and you shall see what you can procure to-morrow. By the by, do send for the mason, or the bricklayer, or whoever the man may be, who does chimneys, and let him try to prevent the smoke. Look, again! now we have had fresh coals."

"I will send about it to-morrow; but I am afraid we shall not be able to effect much good in a lodging-house."

The next day "the man who did chimneys" came, and he proposed new setting the grate, contracting the sides, and altering the flue. Blanche said, by all means, if these measures would secure the absence of smoke. De Molton inquired what would be the cost of the alteration, and found that it would be nearly a third of the house-rent for the year. He paused, dismissed the man, and explained to Blanche, that as they were to pay her father and mother a visit in the spring, and as a great part of the winter was over, and as they would probably be quartered in some different part of the world the following winter, it would not be wise to spend much money upon this chimney; and he advised their sitting in the dining-room when the wind happened to blow from the smoky quarter.

To this she assented, but it was with an effort; and she evidently did so, to prove that she was indeed the good poor man's wife she had professed to be.

Colonel Jones, the colonel of the regiment, and his wife, on their return from a short absence among their friends, waited upon Lady Blanche. As she could not, in this remote corner of the world, enjoy the best society, Blanche would much have preferred living in complete seclusion. But De Molton, who thought any slackness on their part would be a want of attention from an inferior to a superior officer, did not allow her to put off the visit of propriety.

The weather was fine, though cold; and they walked to call on Colonel and Mrs. Jones, who lived in the town, close to the barracks.

As they entered the door, their noses were assailed by the smell of roast mutton and rice pudding; and they were ushered into a dark two-windowed country-town drawing-room, with a dirty green paper, and a high dado, which had once been painted white; while remarkably smart bell-ropes rendered the dinginess of the rest more conspicuous from the contrast.

Nine rosy children and the governess were seated at dinner; Mrs. Jones officiating as carver, and the head nurse assisting the youngest to guide its food safely to its mouth. A smell of pudding and of small beer pervaded the apartment, and greatly annoyed Lady Blanche.

De Molton introduced her to the Colonel's lady, who, relinquishing the carving knife to the governess, retired from the scene of action to the sofa with Lady Blanche, and apologised for her children being so late at dinner, saying, "The colonel had taken the boys out with him to see the itinerant menagerie in the market-place, and had kept them beyond their usual dinner-hour; or else," she continued, "I always make it a point to be fit to be seen at visiting hours, for when one lives in the world, one can never tell who may drop in."

The little Joneses, who, having always lived "in the world," were not shy, and were not more awed by the De Moltons than by Mr. and Mrs. M'Vining, or Mr. and Mrs. Green, or any of the other misters and mistresses who "dropped in," proceeded with their repast somewhat noisily: they were healthy, and there were nine of them!

Blanche could hardly hear herself speak, but she was too well-bred to be fine; and she contrived to look as if she heard all Mrs. Jones said, and as if she was quite accustomed to noisy children and clattering plates.

Dinner was over; grace was said in French by the eldest girl; they rose simultaneously; and, after being kissed by their mamma, were dismissed to have their faces washed, and their brown holland pinafores taken off, preparatory to the afternoon walk.

Mrs. Jones was an excellent woman, who was devoted to her domestic duties, and she considered the whole proceeding as so completely in the common course of things, that she made no apologies; and was so far from being distressed or annoyed by the bustle, the ferment, and the clatter, that she was scarcely aware a noise had existed, or that when the door closed upon the last child a calm succeeded to the storm.

When the De Moltons took their leave, Mrs. Jones good-humouredly ran to the top of the stairs and called aloud for John, at the same time complaining how troublesome it was that neither of the bells in the drawing-room would ring. John was not forthcoming; and a dirty housemaid appeared in his stead, hastily tying a clean apron over the very dirty one beneath: she opened the street-door, and Blanche squeezed past her into the welcome open air.

"Oh, Frank!" she exclaimed, "how can people submit to live in so wretched and vulgar a manner! Mrs. Jones is not so dreadful herself, but her _entourage_!"

"My dear Blanche, Colonel Jones is very poor: and he has nine children."

"But there is no occasion to have things about one so dirty, so untidy, so uncomfortable. We are poor, but how different!"

"Our cottage would not contain one ninth of Colonel Jones's children."

"But why have no bell? And why such bell-ropes?"

"Poor people cannot afford to furnish every temporary lodging-house with elegancies."

"But why have all the Master and Miss Joneses dine in one's drawing-room?"

"I dare say all the other rooms are pre-occupied as sleeping apartments for said Master and Miss Joneses."

"Now you are resolved to be provoking, and I could beat you for not agreeing with me."

"I am afraid, Blanche, that poverty is not a pretty thing in reality, though it sounds pretty in a book."

De Molton looked serious; he could not joke upon the subject. Blanche also looked serious, for she thought he was rather over solemn, and she firmly resolved she would not be poor after Mrs. Jones's fashion.

Blanche worked very diligently at the little cap; and when she had finished the cap, she embroidered the body of a little frock, and showed them exultingly to her husband. Still these preparations did not go far towards providing the expected scion of the house of De Molton with the necessary wardrobe, and Blanche feared she should be obliged to procure many articles ready-made in the town.

"Why should not your maid work at them, my dear?" suggested De Molton, as he found her considering, and wondering, and calculating what plan she had best pursue.

"Why, perhaps she would undertake the caps for me; but she has never been used to anything but dress-making. Mamma never expected her to do anything else."

"You have been working so much yourself, surely you must have done a great deal."

"Oh yes!--this cap and this body. Look, how beautiful they are!"

Blanche's distresses on this score were however soon relieved by learning from Lady Cumberworth that her good-natured sisters-in-law had amused themselves by making and providing everything she could want, and that a lovely set of baby-linen would meet her at Lord Falkingham's, where she was to pass some time previous to her confinement, in order that she might be under her mother's eye.

She was not sorry when the time came for leaving the pretty smoky cottage. The March winds did not agree with the chimney, and she was not well enough to be able to roam among the dells and dingles, the shaws and the banks, in search of violets and primroses; and she thought it would certainly be more desirable to enact the invalid, with all appliances and means to boot, in her father's luxurious mansion, than in the windy, smoky, creaking lath and plaster cottage, which looked so pretty in the beginning of September.

In London, Blanche would have been perfectly happy with her kind father,--her mother who loved her, though not with the usual melting tenderness of a mother,--with her husband, who was as handsome and interesting in appearance, and if possible more affectionate in his attentions than ever,--and with her husband's family doting upon her,--if it had not been that Lady Falkingham treated De Molton with a shade of superciliousness. She always spoke of her daughter as "poor Blanche," wondered to see her look so well after the terrible winter she had passed in a house scarcely weather-tight, alluded constantly to the great change that had taken place in her situation, and almost ridiculed the notion of the Miss Be Moltons having presented her with such pretty worked caps and embroidered frocks for the "poor little creature" that was expected!

These speeches, although they contained some undeniable truths, were extremely galling to De Molton, and very unpleasant to Blanche, for his sake, as well as for her own.

Blanche found herself infinitely happier with her husband's family, where, instead of being treated as a person who was now to be looked down upon by those who were once her compeers, she was considered the most charming of her sex; adored by Lady Cumberworth for having loved her son so disinterestedly; made a fuss with by the Miss De Moltons because they were good-humoured girls, by nature inclined to like rather than dislike any fine, natural, affectionate creature of their own age; and very much admired by Lord Cumberworth, who thought she was an exceedingly fine woman, and that Frank was a very lucky fellow, for the present at least, however the marriage might turn out in the long-run.