Tales and Novels Volume V Part 22

"Not till next year."

"Of age last month. I have the parish register," said Captain Lightbody.

"Go on, sir, if you please."

"Good Heavens! Miss Hunter, can you bear," said Lady Hunter, "to be the object of this indecent altercation? Retire with me, and only let me speak to you, I conjure you!"

No--the young lady stood her ground, resolute to be a bride.

"If there is any lawful impediment, your ladys.h.i.+p will please to make it at the proper response," said the chaplain. "I am under a necessity of proceeding."

The ceremony went on.

Lady Hunter, in high indignation, retired immediately to the vestry-room with her bridegroom. "At least," cried she, throwing herself upon a seat, "it shall never be said that I countenanced, by my presence, such a scandalous marriage! Oh! Sir John Hunter, why did you not interfere to save your own sister?"

"Save her! Egad, she did not choose to be saved. Who can save a woman that does not choose it? What could I do? Is not she your ladys.h.i.+p's pupil?--he! he! he! But I'll fight the rascal directly, if that will give you any satisfaction."

"And he shall have a lawsuit too for her fortune!" said Lady Hunter; "for she is not of age. I have a memorandum in an old pocket book. Oh!

who would have thought such a girl could have duped me so!"

Lady Hunter's exclamations were interrupted by the entrance of her son and daughter, who came to offer what consolation they could. The brilliant congregation poured in a few minutes afterwards, with their mingled congratulations and condolence, eager, above all things, to satisfy their curiosity.

Captain Lightbody, with invincible a.s.surance, came up just as Lady Hunter was getting into her carriage, and besought permission to present his bride to her. But Lady Hunter, turning her back upon him without reply, said to her son, "If Captain Lightbody is going to Beaumont Park, I am not going there."

Mrs. Lightbody, who was now emanc.i.p.ated from all control, and from all sense of propriety, called out from her _own_ carriage, in which she was seated, "That, thank Heaven! she had a house of her own to go to, and that nothing was farther from her thoughts than to interrupt the festivities of Lady Hunter's more mature nuptials."

Delighted with having made this tart answer, Mrs. Lightbody ordered her husband to order her coachman to drive off as fast as possible.

The captain, by her particular desire, had taken a house for her at Brighton, the gayest place she could think of. We leave this amiable bride rejoicing in the glory of having duped a lady of Mrs. Beaumont's penetration; and her bridegroom rejoicing still more in the parish register, by the help of which he hoped to obtain full enjoyment of what he knew to be his bride's most valuable possession--her portion, and to defy Lady Hunter's threatened lawsuit.

In the mean time, Lady Hunter, in her point lace and beautiful veil, seated beside her baronet, in his new barouche, endeavoured to forget this interruption of her triumph. She considered, that though Miss Hunter's fortune was lost to her family, yet the t.i.tle of countess, and the Wigram estate, were _secure_: this was solid consolation; and recovering her features from their unprecedented discomposure, she forced smiles and looks suitable to the occasion, as she bowed to congratulating pa.s.sengers.

Arrived at Beaumont Park, she prepared, without appet.i.te, to partake of the elegant collation, and to do the honours with her accustomed grace: she took care to seat Mr. Palmer beside her, that she might show the world on what good terms they were together. She was pleased to see, that though two younger brides sat near her, she engaged by far the largest share of public admiration. They were so fully content and engrossed by their own feelings, that they did not perceive that they were what is called _thrown into the shade_. All the pride, pomp, and circ.u.mstance of these glorious hymeneals appeared to them but as a dream, or as a scene that was acting before them, in which they were not called to take a part. Towards the end of the collation, one of the guests, my Lord Rider, a n.o.bleman who always gave himself the air of being in a prodigious hurry, declared that he was under the necessity of going off, for he expected a person to meet him at his house in town, on some particular business, at an appointed day. His lords.h.i.+p's travelling companion, who was unwilling to quit so prematurely the present scene of festivity, observed that the man of business had engaged to write to his lords.h.i.+p, and that he should at least wait till the post should come in.

Lady Hunter politely sent to inquire if any letters had arrived for his lords.h.i.+p; and, in consequence of his impatience, all the letters for the family were brought: Lady Hunter distributed them. There was one for Captain Walsingham, with a Spanish motto on the seal: Lady Hunter, as she gave it to him, whispered to Amelia, "Don't be jealous, my dear, but that, I can tell you, is a letter from his Spanish incognita." Amelia smiled with a look of the most perfect confidence and love. Captain Walsingham immediately opened the letter, and, looking at the signature, said, "It is not from my Spanish incognita,--it is from her aunt; I will read it by and by."

"A fine evasion, indeed!" exclaimed Lady Hunter: "look how coolly he puts it into his pocket! Ah! my credulous Amelia, do you allow him to begin in this manner?" pursued she, in a tone of raillery, yet as if she really suspected something wrong in the letter; "and have you no _curiosity_, Mrs. Walsingham?"

Amelia declared that she had none; that she was not one of those who think that jealousy is the best proof of love.

"Right, right," said Mr. Palmer; "confidence is the best proof of love; and yours, I'll venture to say, is, and ever will be, well placed."

Captain Walsingham, with a grateful smile, took his letter again out of his pocket, and immediately began to read it in a low voice to Amelia, Lady Hunter, and Mr. Palmer.

"DEAR SIR,

"Though almost a stranger to you, I should think myself wanting in grat.i.tude if I did not, after all the services you have done my family, write to thank you in my niece's name and in my own: and much I regret that my words will so ill convey to you the sentiments of our hearts.

I am an old woman, not well accustomed to use my pen in the way of letter-writing; but can say truly, that whilst I have life I shall be grateful to you. You have restored me to happiness by restoring to me my long-lost niece. It will, I am sure, give you satisfaction to hear, that my niece--"

Captain Walsingham stopped short, with a look which confirmed Lady Hunter in all her suspicions,--which made Mr. Palmer take out his snuff-box,--which startled even Mr. Beaumont; but which did not raise in the mind of Amelia the slightest feeling of doubt or suspicion. She smiled, and looked round at her alarmed friends with a manner which seemed to say, "Can you suppose it possible that there can be any thing wrong?"

"Pray go on, Captain Walsingham," said Lady Hunter, "unless--unless you have particular, very particular reasons."

"I have particular, very particular reasons," said Captain Walsingham; "and since," turning to Amelia, "this confiding lady does not insist upon my going on--"

"Oh!" said Lady Hunter, gaily, s.n.a.t.c.hing the letter, "I am not such a credulous, or, as you call it, confiding lady."

"I beg of your ladys.h.i.+p not to read it," said Captain Walsingham, in an earnest tone.

"You beg of me not to read it, and with that alarmed look--Oh!

positively, I must, and will read it."

"Not at present, then, I entreat you!"

"This very instant," cried Lady Hunter, affecting all the imperious vivacity of a young bride, under favour of which she determined to satisfy her malicious curiosity.

"Pray, Lady Hunter, do not read it," repeated Captain Walsingham, laying his hand over the letter. "It is for your own sake," added he, in a low and earnest voice, "it is for your own sake, not mine, that I beg of you to forbear."

Lady Hunter, imagining this to be only a subterfuge, drew the letter from beneath Captain Walsingham's hand, exclaiming, "For _my sake!_ Oh, Captain, that is a charming _ruse de guerre_, but do not hope that it shall succeed!"

"Oh! mother, believe him, believe him," cried Amelia: "I am sure he tells you the truth, and he speaks for your sake, not for his own."

Amelia interceded in vain.

Mr. Palmer patted Amelia's shoulder fondly, saying, "You are a dear good creature."

"A dear credulous creature!" exclaimed Lady Hunter. She had now undisturbed possession of the letter.

Captain Walsingham stood by with a face of great concern; in which Amelia and Mr. Beaumont, without knowing the cause, seemed to sympathize.

The contest had early attracted the attention of all within hearing or view of her ladys.h.i.+p, and by this time had been pointed out and accounted for in whispers, even to the most remote parts of the room; so that the eyes of almost every individual in the a.s.sembly were now fixed upon Lady Hunter. She had scarcely glanced her eye upon the letter, when she turned pale as death, and exclaimed, "He knew it! he knew it!" Then, recollecting herself, she made a struggle to conceal her dismay--the forced smile quivered on her lip,--she fell back in a swoon, and was carried out of the room by her son and daughter. Sir John Hunter was at another table, eating eel-pie, and was the last person present who was made to understand what had happened.

"It is the d.a.m.ned heat of the room, I suppose," said he, "that made her faint;" and swallowing the last morsel on his plate, and settling his collar, he came up to Captain Walsingham. "What's this I hear?--that Lady Hunter has fainted? I hope they have carried her into the air. But where's the letter they say affected her so?"

"In my pocket," said Captain Walsingham, coolly.

"Any thing new in it?" said Sir John, with a sulky, fas.h.i.+onable indifference.

"Nothing new to you, probably, Sir John," said Captain Walsingham, walking away from him in disgust.

"I suppose it was the heat overcame Lady Hunter," continued Sir John, speaking to those who stood near him. "Is any body gone to see how she is now? I wonder if they'll let me in to see her."

With a.s.sumed carelessness, but with real embarra.s.sment, the bridegroom went to inquire for his bride.

Good Mr. Palmer went soon afterwards, and knocked softly at the lady's door. "Is poor Lady Hunter any better?"

"Oh! yes; quite well again now," cried Lady Hunter, raising herself from the bed, on which she had been laid; but Mr. Palmer thought, as he saw her through the half-opened door, she still looked a deplorable spectacle, in all her wedding finery. "Quite well again, now: it was nothing in the world but the heat. Amelia, my love, go back to the company, and say so, lest my friends should be uneasy. Thank you, kind Mr. Palmer, for coming to see me: excuse my not being able to let you in now, for I must change my dress. Sir John sends me word his barouche will be at the door in ten minutes, and I have to hurry on my travelling dress. Excuse me."