The Mother's Recompense Volume I Part 5

"You here, Grahame!" exclaimed his friend, as he approached. "I thought you had forsworn such things."

"I make an exception to-night," he answered. "I wished to see my fair friend Caroline where I have longed to see her."

"You are honoured, indeed, Mrs. Hamilton," Lady Helen could not refrain from saying. "He was not present at the _entree_ even of his own daughter."

"And why was I not, Lady Helen? because I would not by my presence give the world reason to say I also approved of the very early age at which Miss Grahame was introduced. If I do not mistake, she is four months younger than Caroline, and yet my daughter is no longer a novice in such scenes as these."

Lady Helen shrunk in terror from the stern glance of her husband, who little knew the pain he inflicted; and Mrs. Hamilton hastily, but cautiously drew her away to enter into conversation with the Marchioness of Malvern, who was near them, which little manoeuvre quickly removed the transient cloud; and though soon again compelled to seek the shelter of the quiet little room she had quitted, the friendly kindness of Mrs.

Hamilton succeeded in making Lady Helen's evening end more agreeably than it had begun.

"Are you only just released, Grahame?" demanded Lord Alphingham, who still remained near Mr. Hamilton.

"You are less fortunate than I was, or perhaps you will think, in parliamentary concerns, more so; but as the ball was uppermost in my thoughts this evening, I was glad to find myself at liberty above an hour ago."

"Is there nothing, then, stirring in the Upper House?"

"Nothing; I saw many of the n.o.ble members fast asleep, and those who spoke said little to the purpose. When do you gentlemen of the Lower House send up your bill? it will be a charity to give us something to do."

"We shall be charitable then on Friday next, and I much doubt if you do not have some warm debating work. If we succeed, it will be a glorious triumph; the Whigs are violent against us, and they are by far the strongest party. I depend greatly on your eloquence, Alphingham."

"It is yours to the full extent of its power, my good friend; it carries some weight along with it, I believe, and I would gladly use it in a good cause."

"Did you speak to-night, Grahame?" Mr. Hamilton asked, evincing by his animated countenance an interest in politics, which, from his retired life, no one believed that he possessed. Grahame eagerly entered into the detail of that night's debate, and for a little time the three gentlemen were absorbed in politics alone. The approach of Caroline and her mother, however, caused Grahame suddenly to break off in his speech.

"A truce with debates, for the present," he gaily exclaimed. "Hamilton, I never saw Caroline's extraordinary likeness to you till this moment.

What a n.o.ble-looking girl she is! Ah, Hamilton, I could pardon you if you were much prouder of your children than you are."

An involuntary sigh broke from his lips as he spoke, but checking it, he hastened to Caroline, and amused her with animated discourse, till Lord Alphingham and Eugene St. Eval at the same instant approached, the one to claim, the other to request, Caroline as his partner in the last quadrille before supper. The shade of deep disappointment which pa.s.sed over the young Earl's expressive countenance as Caroline eagerly accepted the Viscount's offered arm, and owned she had been engaged to him some time, at once confirmed to her flattered fancy the truth of Lord Henry's words, and occasioned a feeling near akin to pleasure in the equally observant mother. Mrs. Hamilton shrunk with horror at the idea of introducing her child into society merely for the purpose of decoying a husband; but she must have been void of natural feeling had not the thought very often crossed her mind, that the time was drawing nigh when her daughter's earthly destiny would, in all probability, be fixed for ever; and in the midst of the tremblings of maternal love the natural wish would mingle, that n.o.ble rank and manly virtue might be the endowments of him who would wed her Caroline, and amongst those n.o.ble youths with whom she had lately mingled, she had seen but one her fond heart deemed on all points worthy of her child, and that one was the young Earl Eugene St. Eval. That he was attracted, her penetrating eye could scarcely doubt, but farther she would not think; and so great was her sensitiveness on this head, that much as she admired the young man, she was much more reserved with him than she would have been had she suspected nothing of his newly dawning feelings.

St. Eval did not join in the quadrille, and after lingering by Mrs.

Hamilton till she was invited to the supper-room, he aroused the increased merriment of his tormentor, Lord Henry, by offering her his arm, conducting her to supper, and devoting himself to her, he declared, as if she were the youngest and prettiest girl in the room.

"Playing the agreeable to mamma, to win the good graces of _la fille_.

Admirable diplomacy; Lord St. Eval, I wish you joy of your new talent,"

maliciously remarked Lord Henry, as the Earl and his companion pa.s.sed him. A glance from those dark eyes, severe enough to have sent terror to the soul of any less reckless than Lord Henry, was St. Eval's only reply, and he pa.s.sed on; and seldom did Mrs. Hamilton find a companion more to her taste in a supper-room than the young Earl. The leaves of the Walking Cyclopaedia were indeed then opened, Henry D'Este would have said, for on very many subjects did St. Eval allow himself that evening to converse, which, except to his mother and sisters, were ever locked in the recesses of his own reflecting mind; but there was a kindness, almost maternal, which Mrs. Hamilton unconsciously used to every young person who sought her company, and that charm the young and gifted n.o.bleman never could resist. He spoke of her sons in a manner that could not fail to attract a mother's heart. The six months he had spent with them at college had been sufficient for him to form an intimate friends.h.i.+p with Percy, whose endeavours to gain his esteem he had been unable to resist; while he regretted that the reserved disposition of Herbert, being so like his own, had prevented his knowing him so well as his brother. He spoke too of a distant relative of Mrs. Hamilton's, the present Lord Delmont, in whom, as the representative of her ancient family, she was much interested. St. Eval described with eloquence the lovely villa he occupied on the banks of Lago Guardia, near the frontiers of the Tyrol, the health of his only sister, some few years younger than himself, not permitting them to live in England; he had given up all the invitations to home and pleasure held out to him by his father-land, and retiring to Italy, devoted himself entirely to his mother and sister.

"He is a brother and son after your own heart, Mrs. Hamilton," concluded St. Eval, with animation, "and that is the highest compliment I can pay him."

Mrs. Hamilton smiled, and as she gazed on the glowing features of the young man, she thought he who could so well appreciate such virtues could not be--nay, she knew he was not--deficient in them himself, and stronger than ever became her secret wish; but she hastily banished it, and gave her sole attention to the interesting subjects on which St.

Eval continued to speak.

For some few hours after supper the ball continued, with even, perhaps, more spirit than it had commenced; but St. Eval did not ask Caroline to dance again. He fancied she preferred Alphingham's attentions, and his sensitive mind shrunk from being again refused. Caroline knew not the heart of him over whom she had resolved to use her power, perhaps if she had, she would have hesitated in her determination. The least encouragement made his heart glow with an uncontrollable sensation of exquisite pleasure, while repulse bade it sink back with an equal if not a greater degree of pain. St. Eval was conscious of this weakness in his character; he was aware that he possessed a depth of feeling, which unless steadily controlled, would tend only to his misery; and it was for this he clothed himself in impenetrable reserve, and obtained from the world the character of being proud and disagreeable. He dreaded the first entrance of love within his bosom, for instinctively he felt that his very sensitiveness would render the pa.s.sion more his misery than his joy. We are rather sceptics in the doctrine of love at first sight, but in this case it was fervid and enduring, as if it had risen on the solid basis of intimacy and esteem. From the first hour he had spent in the society of Caroline Hamilton, Eugene St. Eval loved. He tried to subdue and conquer his newly-awakened feelings, and would think he had succeeded, but the next hour he pa.s.sed in her society brought the truth clearer than ever before his eyes; her image alone occupied his heart.

He shrunk, in his overwrought sensitiveness, from paying her those attentions which would have marked his preference; he did not wish to excite the remarks of the world, nor did he feel that he possessed sufficient courage to bear the repulse, with which, if she did not regard him, and if she were the girl he fancied her, she would cheek his forwardness. But his heart beat high, and it was with some difficulty he controlled his emotion, when he perceived that Caroline refused to dance even with Lord Alphingham on several occasions, to continue conversing with himself. How his n.o.ble spirit would have chafed and bled, could he have known it was love of power and coquetry that dictated her manner, and not regard, as for the time he allowed himself to fancy.

The evening closed, the n.o.ble guests departed, and daylight had resumed its reign over the earth by the time Mr. Hamilton's carriage stopped in Berkeley Square. Animatedly had Caroline conversed with her parents on the pleasures of the evening during their drive; but when she reached her own room, when Martyn had left her, and she was alone, she was not quite sure if a few faint whisperings of self-reproach did not in a degree alloy the retrospection of this her first glimpse of the gay world; but quickly--perhaps too quickly--they were banished. The attentions of Lord Alphingham--heightened in their charm by Miss Grahame's positive a.s.surance to her friend that the Viscount was attracted, there was not the very slightest doubt of it--and the proposed pleasure of compelling the proud, reserved St. Eval to yield to her fascinations, alone occupied her fancy. To make him her captive would be triumph indeed. She wished, too, to show Annie she was not so completely under control as she fancied; that she, too, could act with the spirit of a girl of fas.h.i.+on; and to choose St. Eval, and succeed--charm him to her side--force him to pay her attentions which no other received, would, indeed, prove to her fas.h.i.+onable companions that she was not so entirely governed by her mother, so very simple and spiritless as they supposed. Her power should do that which all had attempted in vain. Her cheek glowed, her heart burned with the bright hope of expected triumph, and when she at length sunk to sleep, it was to dream of St. Eval at her feet.

Oh! were the counsels, the example, the appeal of her mother all forgotten? Was this a mother's recompense? Alas! alas!

CHAPTER IV.

Numerous were the cards and invitations now left at Mr. Hamilton's door; and the world, in its most tempting form, was indeed spread before Caroline, although, perhaps, compared with the constant routine of pleasure pursued by some young ladies who attend two or three a.s.semblies each of the six nights out of the seven, her life could scarcely be called gay. Mr. Hamilton had drawn a line, and, difficult as it was to keep, he adhered to his resolution, notwithstanding the entreaties of his friends, and very often those of his daughter. A dinner-party and a ball he would sometimes permit Caroline to attend in one day, but the flying from house to house, to taste of every pleasure offered, he never would allow. Nor did he or any member of his family ever attend the Opera on Sat.u.r.day night, however great might be the attractions. To Emmeline this was a great privation, as poetry and music had ever been her chief delights, and the loss of even one night's enjoyment was felt severely; but she acquiesced without a murmur, appreciating the truth of her father's remark, that it was impossible to pay attention to the Sabbath duties when the previous evening had been thus employed. She knew, too, how difficult it was to attend to her studies (due regard for which her parents required amidst every recreation) on the Wednesday, with every air she had so delighted in the previous night ringing in her ears. Those who were eager to condemn Mrs. Hamilton whenever they could, declared it was the greatest inconsistency to take Emmeline to the Opera, and permit her to appear so often in company at home, and yet in other matters he so strict; why could she not bring her out at once, instead of only tantalizing her? but Mrs. Hamilton could never do anything like anybody else. Her daughters were much to be pitied; and as for her niece, she must pa.s.s a miserable life, for she was scarcely ever seen. They had no doubt, with all Mrs. Hamilton's pretensions to goodness, that her poor niece was utterly neglected, and kept quite in the background; because she was so beautiful, Mrs. Hamilton was jealous of the notice she might obtain.

So thought, and so very often spoke, the ill-natured half of the world, who, in reality, jealous and displeased at being excluded from Mr.

Hamilton's visiting list, did everything in their power to lessen the estimation in which the family was held. In this, however, they could not succeed, nor in causing pain to those whom they wished to wound.

Such petty malice demanded not a second thought from minds so well-regulated as those of Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton. Mrs. Hamilton, indeed, turned their ill-natured remarks to advantage, for instead of neglecting or wholly despising them, she considered them in her own heart, and in solitary reflection pondered deeply if she in any way deserved them. She knew that the lesson of self-knowledge is never entirely learnt; and she knew too, that an enemy may say that in ill-will or malice which may have some foundation, though our friends, aided by self-love, may have hidden the truth from us. Deeply did this n.o.ble woman think on her plan of conduct; severely she scrutinized its every motive, and she was at peace. Before entering upon it she had implored the Divine blessing, and she felt that, in the case of Emmeline and Ellen, her prayers for guidance had not been unheeded. Perhaps her conduct, with regard to the former, might have appeared inconsistent; but she felt no ill-will towards those who condemned, knowing the disposition of her child, and certainly those who thus spoke did not.

Although there was little more than fourteen months difference between the age of the sisters, Emmeline was so much a child in simplicity and feeling, that her mother felt a.s.sured it would neither be doing her good nor tending to her happiness to introduce her with her sister; as, from the little difference in their ages, some mothers might have been inclined to do. Yet she did not wish to keep her in such entire seclusion as some, even of her friends, advised, but permitted her the enjoyment of those innocent pleasures natural to her taste. Emmeline had never once murmured at this arrangement; however it interfered with her most earnest wishes, her confidence in her parents was such, that she ever submitted to their wishes with cheerfulness. Mrs. Hamilton knew and sympathised in her feelings at leaving Oakwood. She felt there were indeed few pleasures in London that could compensate to a disposition such as Emmeline's for those she had left. She had seen, with joy and thankfulness, the conquest of self which her child had so perseveringly achieved; and surely she was not wrong to reward her, by giving her every gratification in her power, and endeavouring to make her as happy as she was at Oakwood. Emmeline was no longer a child, and these pleasures interfered not with the attention her parents still wished her to bestow on the completion of her education. With all the innocence and quiet of a young child she enjoyed the select parties given by her mother with the same zest, but with the poetic feelings of dawning youth. She absolutely revelled in the Opera, and there her mother generally accompanied her once a week. An artist might have found a pleasing study in the contemplation of that young, bright face, as she sat entranced, every sense absorbed in the music which she heard, the varying expression of her countenance reflecting every emotion acted before her. At such moments the fond mother felt it to be impossible to deny the young enthusiast the rich treat these musical recreations afforded. A smile or look of sympathy was ever ready to meet the often uncontrolled expressions of delight which Emmeline could not suppress, for in thus listening to the compositions of our great masters, even those much older than Emmeline can seldom entirely command their emotions. Natural as were the manners of Caroline in public, they almost resembled art when compared with those of her sister. Mrs. Hamilton's lesson on self-control had not been forgotten. Emmeline generally contrived to behave with perfect propriety, except in moments of excitement such as these, where natural enthusiasm and almost childish glee would have their play, and her mother could not, would not check them.

With regard to Ellen, the thoughtless remarks of the world were indeed unfounded, as all who recollect the incidents detailed in former pages will readily believe. Her health still continued so delicate as frequently to occasion her aunt some anxiety. Through the winter, strange to say, she had not suffered, but the spring brought on, at intervals, those depressing feelings of languor which Mrs. Hamilton hoped had been entirely conquered. The least exertion or excitement caused her to suffer the following day, and therefore, except at very small parties, she did not appear even at home. No one could suspect from her quiet and controlled manner, and her apparently inanimate though beautiful features, that she was as enthusiastic in mind and in the delights of the Opera as her cousin Emmeline. By no one we do not mean her aunt, for Mrs. Hamilton could now trace every feeling of that young and sorrowing heart, and she saw with regret, that in her niece's present state of health, even that pleasure must be denied her, for the very exertion attendant on it was too much. Ellen never expressed regret, nor did she ever breathe even to her aunt how often, how very often, she longed once again to enjoy the fresh air of Oakwood, for London to her possessed not even the few attractions it did to Emmeline.

She ever struggled to be cheerful, to smile when her aunt looked anxiously at her, and strove to a.s.sure her that she was happy, perfectly happy. Her never appearing as Emmeline did, and so very seldom even at home, certainly gave matter for observation to those who, seeking for it, refused to believe the true reason of her retirement. Miss Harcourt, though she steadfastly refused to go out with her friend--for Mrs.

Hamilton never could allow that she filled any situation save that of a friend and relation of the family--yet sometimes accompanied Emmeline to the Opera, and always joined Mrs. Hamilton at home. Many, therefore, were the hours Ellen spent entirely alone, but she persevered unrepiningly in the course laid down for her by the first medical man in London, whom her aunt had consulted.

How she employed those lonely hours Mrs. Hamilton never would inquire.

Perfect liberty to follow her own inclinations she should enjoy at least; but it was not without pain that Mrs. Hamilton so frequently left her niece. She knew that the greatest privation, far more than any of the pleasures her cousins enjoyed, was the loss of her society. The mornings and evenings were now so much occupied, that it often happened that the Sabbath and the evening previous were the only times Ellen could have intercourse of any duration with her. She regretted this deeply, for Ellen was no longer a child; she was at that age when life is in general keenly susceptible to the pleasures of society; and reserved as was her disposition, Mrs. Hamilton felt a.s.sured, the loss of that unchecked domestic intercourse she had so long enjoyed at Oakwood was pain, though never once was she heard to complain. These contrary duties frequently grieved the heart of her aunt. Often she accompanied Caroline when her inclination prompted her to remain at home; for she loved Ellen as her own child, and to tend and soothe her would sometimes have been the preferable duty; but she checked the wish, for suffering and solitary as was Ellen, Caroline, in the dangerous labyrinth of the world, required her care still more.

There are trials which the world regards not--trials on which there are many who look lightly--those productive of no interest, seldom of sympathy, but with pain to the sufferer; it is when health fails, not sufficiently to attract notice, but when the disordered state of the nerves renders the mind irritable, the body weak; when from that invisible weakness, little evils become great, the temper loses its equanimity, the spirits their elasticity, we scarcely know wherefore, and we reproach ourselves, and add to our uneasiness by thinking we are becoming pettish and ill-tempered, enervated and repining; we dare not confess such feelings, for our looks proclaim not failing health, and who would believe us? when the very struggle for cheerfulness fills the eye with tears, the heart with heaviness, and we feel provoked at our peevishness, and angry that we are so different now to what we have been; and we fancy, changed as we are, all we love can no longer regard us as formerly. Such are among the trials of woman, unknown, frequently unsuspected, by her nearest and dearest relations; and bitter indeed is it when such trials befall us in early youth, when liveliness and buoyancy are expected, and any departure therefrom is imagined to proceed from causes very opposite to the truth. Such at present were the trials of the orphan; but they were softened by the kindness and sympathy of her aunt, who possessed the happy art of soothing more effectually in a few words than others of a less kindly mould could ever have accomplished.

It is in the quick perception of character, in the adaptation of our words to those whom we address, that in domestic circles renders us beloved, and forms the fascination of society. Sympathy is the charm of human life, and when once that is made apparent, we are not slow in discovering or imagining others. Some people find the encouragement of sympathy disagreeable, for they say it makes them miserable for no purpose. What care they for the woes and joys of their acquaintances?

Often a tax, and never a pleasure. Minds of such nature know not that there is a "joy in the midst of grief;" but Mrs. Hamilton did, and she encouraged every kindly feeling of her nature. Previous to her marriage, she had been perhaps too reserved and shrinking within herself, fancied there was no one of her own rank at least who could understand her, and therefore none with whom she could sympathise. But the greater confidence of maturer years, the example of her husband, the emotions of a wife and mother, had enlarged her heart, and caused her, by ready sympathy with others, to increase her own enjoyments, and render herself more pleasing than perhaps, if she had remained single, she ever would have been. It was this invisible charm that caused her to be admired and involuntarily loved, even by those who, considering her a saint at first, shrunk in dread from her society, and it was this that rendered the frequent trials of her niece less difficult to bear.

"Does my Ellen remember a little conversation we had on the eve of her last birthday?" demanded Mrs. Hamilton of her niece one evening, as she had finished dressing, to attend her daughter to the Opera, and Martyn, at her desire, had obeyed Caroline's impatient summons, and left to Ellen the task of fastening her lady's jewels.

Whenever nothing occurred to prevent it, Ellen was generally with her aunt at dressing-time, and the little conversation that pa.s.sed between them at such periods frequently rendered Ellen's solitary evening cheerful, when otherwise it might have been, from her state of health and apparently endless task, even gloomy. Mrs. Hamilton had observed a more than usual depression that evening in the manners of her niece, and, without noticing, she endeavoured to remove it. Ellen was bending down to clasp a bracelet as she spoke, and surprised at the question, looked up, without giving herself time to conceal an involuntary tear, though she endeavoured to remove any such impression, by smiling cheerfully as she replied in the affirmative.

"And will it cheer your solitary evenings, then, my dear Ellen?" she continued, drawing her niece to her, and kissing her transparent brow, "if I say that, in the self-denial, patience, and submission you are now practising, you are doing more, towards raising your character in my estimation, and banis.h.i.+ng from remembrance the painful past, than you once fancied it would ever be in your power to do. I think I know its motive, and therefore I do not hesitate to bestow the meed of praise you so well deserve."

For a minute Ellen replied not, she only raised her aunt's hand to her lips and kissed it, as if to hide her emotion before she spoke, but her eyes were still swelling with tears as she looked up and replied--"Indeed, my dearest aunt, I do not deserve it. You do not know how irritable and ill-tempered I often feel."

"Because you are not very well, my love, and yet you do not feel sufficiently ill to complain. I sometimes fancy such a state of health as yours is more difficult to bear than a severe though short illness, then, you can, at least, claim soothing consolation and sympathy. Now my poor Ellen thinks she can demand neither," she added, smiling.

"I always receive both from you," replied Ellen, earnestly; "and not much submission is required when that is the case, and I am told my health forbids my sharing in Emmeline's pleasures."

"No, love, there would not be, if you felt so ill as to have no desire for them; but that is not the case, for I know you very often feel quite well enough to go out with me, and I am quite sure that my Ellen sometimes wishes she were not so completely prohibited such amus.e.m.e.nts."

"I thought I had succeeded better in concealing those wishes," replied Ellen, blus.h.i.+ng deeply.

"So you have, my dear girl, no one but myself suspects them; and you could not expect to conceal them from me, Ellen, could you, when Emmeline says it is utterly impossible to hide her most secret thought from my mystic wand? Do not attempt more, my love; persevere in your present conduct, and I shall be quite satisfied. Have you an interesting book for to-night, or is there any other employment you prefer?"

"You have banished all thoughts of gloom, my dear aunt, and perhaps, instead of reading, I shall work and think on what you have said,"

exclaimed Ellen, her cheek becoming more crimsoned than it was before, and exciting for the moment the attention of her aunt. She, however, soon permitted it to pa.s.s from her thoughts, for she knew the least emotion generally had that effect. Little did she imagine how those solitary hours were employed. Little did she think the cause of that deep blush, or guess the extent of comfort her words had bestowed on her niece, how they cheered the painful task the orphan believed it her duty to perform. Spite of many obstacles of failing health, she perseveringly continued, although as yet she approached not the end of her desires. No gleam of light yet appeared to say her toil was nearly over, her wish obtained.

The limits of our tale, as well as the many histories of individuals these memoirs of the Hamilton family must embrace, will not permit us to linger on the scenes of gaiety in which Caroline now mingled, and which afforded her, perhaps, too many opportunities for the prosecution of her schemes; Miss Grahame's task was no longer difficult. Her confidence once given to another, she could not recall to bestow it upon her mother, from whom, the more she mingled in society, the more she became estranged; and Annie became at once her confidant and adviser. Eager to prove she was not the simple-minded being she was believed, Caroline confided her designs, with regard to St. Eval, to Miss Grahame, who, as may be supposed, heightened and encouraged them. Had any one pointed out to Caroline she was acting with duplicity, departing from the line of truth to which, even in her childhood, in the midst of many other faults, she had beautifully and strictly adhered, she might have shrunk back in horror; but where was the harm of a little innocent flirtation?

Annie would repeatedly urge, if she fancied a doubt of the propriety of such conduct was rising in her friend's mind, and she was ready with examples of girls of high birth and exemplary virtues who practised it with impunity: it gave a finish to the character of a woman, proved she would sometimes act for herself, not always be in leading-strings; it gave a taste of power, gratified her ambition; in short, flirtation was the very acme of enjoyment, and gave a decided _ton_ before and after marriage.

St. Eval was not sanguine. But it was in vain he tried to resist the fascinations of the girl he loved, he could not for an instant doubt but that she encouraged him; he even felt grateful, and loved her more for those little arts and kindnesses with which she ever endeavoured to draw him from his reserve, and chain him to her side. Could that n.o.ble spirit imagine she only acted thus to afford herself amus.e.m.e.nt for the time, and prove her power to her companions? Could she, the child of Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton, act otherwise than honourably? We may pardon Lord St.