Emmeline Part 8

'You have not only taught me, my dear Mrs. Stafford,' said she, 'to dread more than ever being thrown back into such company; but you have also made me fear that I shall never relish the general conversation of the world. As I disliked the manners of an inferior description of people when I first knew them, because they did not resemble those of the dear good woman who brought me up; so I shall undoubtedly be disappointed and dissatisfied with the generality of those acquaintance I may meet with; for I am afraid there are as few Mrs. Staffords in your rank of life as there were Mrs. Careys in hers. However, there is no great likelihood, I believe, at present, of my being convinced how little they resemble you; for it is not probable I shall be taken from hence.'

'Perhaps,' answered Mrs. Stafford, 'you might be permitted to stay some months next winter with me. I shall pa.s.s the whole of it in the country; the greatest part of it probably alone; and such a companion would a.s.sist in charming away many of those hours, which now, tho' I have more resources than most people, sometimes are heavy and melancholy. My children are not yet old enough to be my companions; and I know not how it is, but I have often more pain than pleasure in being with them. When I remember, or when I feel, how little happiness there is in the world, I tremble for their future destiny; and in the excess of affection, regret having introduced them into a scene of so much pain as I have hitherto found it. But tell me, Emmeline, do you think if I apply to Lord Montreville he will allow you to pa.s.s some time with me?'

'Dear Madam,' said Emmeline, eagerly, 'what happiness do you offer me!

Lord Montreville would certainly think me highly honoured by such an invitation.'

'Shall I answer for Lord Montreville,' said a voice behind them, 'as his immediate representative?'

Emmeline started; and turning quickly, beheld Mr. Delamere and Fitz-Edward.

Delamere caught her hands in his.

'Have I then found you, my lovely cousin?' cried he.--'Oh! happiness unexpected!'

He was proceeding with even more than his usual vehemence; but Fitz-Edward thought it necessary to stop him.

'You promised, Frederic, before I consented to come with you, that you would desist from these extravagant flights. Come, I beg Miss Mowbray may be permitted to speak to her other acquaintance; and that she will do us both the honour to introduce us to her friend.'

Emmeline had lost all courage and recollection on the appearance of Delamere. Mrs. Stafford saw her distress; and a.s.suming a cold and distant manner, she said--'Miss Mowbray, I apprehend from what this gentleman has said, that he has a message to you from Lord Montreville.'

'Has my Lord, Sir,' said Emmeline to Delamere,--'has my Lord Montreville been so good as to honour me with any commands?'

'Cruel girl!' answered he; 'you know too well that my father is not acquainted with my being here.'

'Then you certainly ought not to be here,' said Emmeline, coolly; 'and you must excuse me, Sir, if I beg the favor of you not to detain me, nor attempt to renew a conversation so very improper, indeed so cruelly injurious to me.'

Mrs. Stafford had Emmeline's arm within her own, from the commencement of this conversation; and she now walked hastily on with her.

Delamere followed them, intreating to be heard; and Fitz-Edward, addressing himself on the other side to Mrs. Stafford, besought her in a half whisper to allow his friend only a few moments to explain himself to Miss Mowbray.

'No, Sir, I must be excused,' answered she--'If Miss Mowbray does me the honour to consult me, I shall certainly advise her against committing such an indiscretion as listening to Mr. Delamere.'

'Ah! Madam!' said the colonel, throwing into his eyes and manner all that insinuation of which he was so perfect a master, 'is it possible, that with a countenance where softness and compa.s.sion seem to invite the unhappy to trust you with their sorrows, you have a cruel and unfeeling heart? Lay by for a moment your barbarous prudence, in favour of my unfortunate friend; upon my honour, nothing but the conviction that his life was at stake, would have induced me to accompany him hither; and I pledge myself for the propriety of his conduct. He only begs to be forgiven by Miss Mowbray for his improper treatment of her at Mowbray Castle; to be a.s.sured she is in health and safety; and to hear that she does not hate him for all the uneasiness he has given her; and having done so, he promises to return to his family. Upon my soul,' continued he, laying his hand upon his breast, 'I know not what would have been the consequence, had I not consented to a.s.sist him in deceiving his family and coming hither: but I have reason to think he would have made some wild attempt to secure to himself more frequent interviews with Miss Mowbray; and that a total disappointment of the project he had formed for seeing her, would have been attended with a violence of pa.s.sion arising even to phrenzy.--Madness or death would perhaps have been the event.'

Mrs. Stafford turned her eyes on Fitz-Edward, with a look sufficiently expressive of incredulity--'Does a modern man of fas.h.i.+on pretend to talk of madness and death? You certainly imagine, Sir, that you are speaking to some romantic inhabitant of a Welch provincial town, whose ideas are drawn from a circulating library, and confirmed by the conversation of the captain in quarters.'

'Ah, madam,' said he, 'I know not to whom I have the honour of addressing myself,' (though he knew perfectly well;) 'but I feel too certainly that madness and death would be preferable to the misery such coldness and cruelty as your's would inflict on me, was it my misfortune to love as violently as Delamere; and indeed I tremble, lest in endeavouring to a.s.sist my friend I have endangered myself.'

Of this speech, Mrs. Stafford, who believed he did not know her, took very little notice; and turning towards Emmeline, who had in the mean time been listening in trembling apprehension to the ardent declarations of Delamere, said it was time to return home.

Delamere, without attending to her hint, renewed his importunities for her friends.h.i.+p and interest with Miss Mowbray; to which, as soon as he would allow her to answer, she said very gravely--'Sir, as Miss Mowbray seems so much alarmed at your pursuing her hither, and as you must be yourself sensible of it's extreme impropriety, I hope you will not lengthen an interview which can only produce uneasiness for you both.'

'Let us go home, for heaven's sake!' whispered Emmeline.

'They are determined, you see, to follow us,' replied her friend; 'we will however go.'

By this time they were near the door; and Mrs. Stafford wis.h.i.+ng the two gentlemen a good morning, was hurrying with Emmeline into the house; but Fitz-Edward took hold of her arm.

'One word, only, madam, and we will intrude upon you no farther at present: say that you will suffer us to see you again to-morrow.'

'Not if I can help it, be a.s.sured, Sir.'

'Then, madam,' said Delamere, 'you must allow me to finish now what I have to say to Miss Mowbray.'

'Good heaven! Sir,' exclaimed Emmeline, 'why will you thus persist in distressing me? You are perhaps known to Mrs. Watkins; your name will be at least known to her; and intelligence of your being here will be instantly sent to Lord Montreville.'

Emmeline, by no means aware that this speech implied a desire of concealment, the motives of which might appear highly flattering to Delamere, was soon made sensible of it's import by his answer.

'Enough, my adorable Emmeline!' cried he eagerly, 'if I am worthy of a thought of that sort, I am less wretched than I believed myself. I will not now insist on a longer audience; but to-morrow I must see you again.--Your amiable friend here will intercede for me.--I must not be refused; and will wish you a good day before you can form so cruel a resolution.'

So saying, he bowed to Mrs. Stafford, kissed Emmeline's hand, and departed with Fitz-Edward from the door.

CHAPTER VIII

The two fair friends no sooner entered the house, than Emmeline threw herself into a chair, and burst into tears.

'Ah! my dear madam,' said she, sobbing, 'what will now become of me?

Lord Montreville will believe I have corresponded with his son; he will withdraw all favour and confidence from me; and I shall be undone!'

'Do not thus distress yourself,' said Mrs. Stafford, tenderly taking her hand--'I hope the rash and cruel conduct of this young man will not have the consequences you apprehend. Lord Montreville, from your former conduct, will easily credit your not having encouraged this visit.'

'Ah! my dear Mrs. Stafford,' replied Emmeline, 'you do not know Lord Montreville. He hastily formed a notion that I made an appointment with Mr. Delamere at Mowbray Castle, when I had not even seen him above once; and though, from my eagerness to leave it, I believe he afterwards thought he had been too hasty, yet so strong was that first impression, that the slightest circ.u.mstance would, I know, renew it as forcibly as ever: for he has one of those tempers, which having once entertained an idea of a person's conduct or character, never really alters it, though they see the most convincing evidence of it's fallacy. Having once supposed I favoured the addresses of Mr. Delamere, as you know he did, at Mowbray Castle, the present visit will convince him he was right, and that I am the most artful as well as the most ungrateful of beings.'

Mrs. Stafford hesitated a moment, and then said, 'I see all the evil you apprehend. To convince Lord Montreville of your ignorance of Delamere's design, and your total rejection of his clandestine addresses, suppose I were to write to him? He must be prejudiced and uncandid indeed, if after such information he is not convinced of your innocence.'

To this proposal, Emmeline consented, with a.s.surances of the liveliest grat.i.tude; and Mrs. Stafford returning to her lodgings, wrote the following letter to Lord Montreville:

_Swansea, June 20._

'My Lord,

'A short abode at this place, has given me the pleasure of knowing Miss Mowbray, to whose worth and prudence I am happy to bear testimony. At the request of this amiable young woman, I am now to address your Lords.h.i.+p with information that Mr. Delamere came hither yesterday with Mr. Fitz-Edward, and has again renewed those addresses to Miss Mowbray which she knows to be so disagreeable to your Lords.h.i.+p, and which cannot but be extremely prejudicial to her.

Circ.u.mstanced as she is at this place, she cannot entirely avoid him; but she hopes your Lords.h.i.+p will be convinced how truly she laments the pain this improper conduct of Mr. Delamere will give you, and she loses not a moment in beseeching you to write to him, or otherwise to interfere, in prevailing on him to quit Swansea; and to prevent his continuing to distress her by a pursuit so unwelcome to you, and so injurious to her honour and repose.

I have the honour to be, my Lord, your Lords.h.i.+p's most obedient servant, C. STAFFORD.'

This letter being extremely approved of by Emmeline, was put into the next day's post; and the two ladies set out for their walk at a very early hour, flattering themselves they should return before Delamere and Fitz-Edward (who was lately raised to the rank of lieutenant-colonel) were abroad. But in this they deceived themselves. They were again overtaken by their importunate pursuers, who had now agreed to vary the mode of their attack. Fitz-Edward, who knew the power of his insidious eloquence over the female heart, undertook to plead for his friend to Emmeline, while Delamere was to try to interest Mrs. Stafford, and engage her good offices in his behalf.

They no sooner joined the ladies, than Delamere said to the latter--'After the discouraging reception of yesterday, nothing but being persuaded that your heart will refuse to confirm the rigour you think yourself obliged to adopt, could make me venture, Madam, to solicit your favour with Miss Mowbray. I now warmly implore it; and surely'----

'Can you believe, Sir,' said Mrs. Stafford, interrupting him, 'that _I_ shall ever influence Miss Mowbray to listen to you; knowing, as I do, the aversion of your family to your entertaining any honourable views?

and having reason to believe you have yourself formed those that are very different?'