Book: Alice, or The Mysteries, Book V
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Edward Bulwer Lytton >> Alice, or The Mysteries, Book V
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BOOK V.
"FOOLS blind to truth; nor know their erring soul
How much the half is better than the whole."
--HESIOD: _Op. et Dies_, 40.
CHAPTER I.
Do as the Heavens have done; forget your evil;
With them, forgive yourself.--_The Winter's Tale_.
. . . The sweet'st companion that e'er man
Bred his hopes out of.--_Ibid._
THE curate of Brook-Green was sitting outside his door. The vicarage
which he inhabited was a straggling, irregular, but picturesque
building,--humble enough to suit the means of the curate, yet large
enough to accommodate the vicar. It had been built in an age when the
_indigentes et pauperes_ for whom universities were founded supplied,
more than they do now, the fountains of the Christian ministry, when
pastor and flock were more on an equality.
From under a rude and arched porch, with an oaken settle on either side
for the poor visitor, the door opened at once upon the old-fashioned
parlour,--a homely but pleasant room, with one wide but low cottage
casement, beneath which stood the dark shining table that supported the
large Bible in its green baize cover; the Concordance, and the last
Sunday's sermon, in its jetty case. There by the fireplace stood the
bachelor's round elbow-chair, with a needlework cushion at the back; a
walnut-tree bureau, another table or two, half a dozen plain chairs,
constituted the rest of the furniture, saving some two or three hundred
volumes, ranged in neat shelves on the clean wainscoted walls. There was
another room, to which you ascended by two steps, communicating with this
parlour, smaller but finer, and inhabited only on festive days, when Lady
Vargrave, or some other quiet neighbour, came to drink tea with the good
curate.
An old housekeeper and her grandson--a young fellow of about two and
twenty, who tended the garden, milked the cow, and did in fact what he
was wanted to do--composed the establishment of the humble minister.
We have digressed from Mr. Aubrey himself.
The curate was seated, then, one fine summer morning, on a bench at the
left of his porch, screened from the sun by the cool boughs of a
chestnut-tree, the shadow of which half covered the little lawn that
separated the precincts of the house from those of silent Death and
everlasting Hope; above the irregular and moss-grown paling rose the
village church; and, through openings in the trees, beyond the
burial-ground, partially gleamed the white walls of Lady Vargrave's
cottage, and were seen at a distance the sails on the--
"Mighty waters, rolling evermore."
The old man was calmly enjoying the beauty of the morning, the freshness
of the air, the warmth of the dancing beam, and not least, perhaps, his
own peaceful thoughts,--the spontaneous children of a contemplative
spirit and a quiet conscience. His was the age when we most sensitively
enjoy the mere sense of existence,--when the face of Nature and a passive
conviction of the benevolence of our Great Father suffice to create a
serene and ineffable happiness, which rarely visits us till we have done
with the passions; till memories, if more alive than heretofore, are yet
mellowed in the hues of time, and Faith softens into harmony all their
asperities and harshness; till nothing within us remains to cast a shadow
over the things without; and on the verge of life, the Angels are nearer
to us than of yore. There is an old age which has more youth of heart
than youth itself!
As the old man thus sat, the little gate through which, on Sabbath days,
he was wont to pass from the humble mansion to the house of God
noiselessly opened, and Lady Vargrave appeared.
The curate rose when he perceived her; and the lady's fair features were
lighted up with a gentle pleasure, as she pressed his hand and returned
his salutation.
There was a peculiarity in Lady Vargrave's countenance which I have
rarely seen in others. Her smile, which was singularly expressive, came
less from the lip than from the eyes; it was almost as if the brow
smiled; it was as the sudden and momentary vanishing of a light but
melancholy cloud that usually rested upon the features, placid as they
were.
They sat down on the rustic bench, and the sea-breeze wantoned amongst
the quivering leaves of the chestnut-tree that overhung their seat.
"I have come, as usual, to consult my kind friend," said Lady Vargrave;
"and, as usual also, it is about our absent Evelyn."
"Have you heard again from her, this morning?"
"Yes; and her letter increases the anxiety which your observation, so
much deeper than mine, first awakened."
"Does she then write much of Lord Vargrave?"
"Not a great deal; but the little she does say, betrays how much she
shrinks from the union my poor husband desired: more, indeed, than ever!
But this is not all, nor the worst; for you know that the late lord had
provided against that probability--he loved her so tenderly, his ambition
for her only came from his affection; and the letter he left behind him
pardons and releases her, if she revolts from the choice he himself
preferred."
"Lord Vargrave is, perhaps, a generous, he certainly seems a candid, man,
and he must be sensible that his uncle has already done all that justice
required."
"I think so. But this, as I said, is not all; I have brought the letter
to show you. It seems to me as you apprehended. This Mr. Maltravers has
wound himself about her thoughts more than she herself imagines; you see
how she dwells on all that concerns him, and how, after checking herself,
she returns again and again to the same subject."
The curate put on his spectacles, and took the letter. It was a strange
thing, that old gray-haired minister evincing such grave interest in the
secrets of that young heart! But they who would take charge of the soul
must never be too wise to regard the heart!
Lady Vargrave looked over his shoulder as he bent down to read, and at
times placed her finger on such passages as she wished him to note. The
old curate nodded as she did so; but neither spoke till the letter was
concluded.
The curate then folded up the epistle, took off his spectacles, hemmed,
and looked grave.
"Well," said Lady Vargrave, anxiously, "well?"
"My dear friend, the letter requires consideration. In the first place,
it is clear to me that, in spite of Lord Vargrave's presence at the
rectory, his lordship so manages matters that the poor child is unable of
herself to bring that matter to a conclusion. And, indeed, to a mind so
sensitively delicate and honourable, it is no easy task."
"Shall I write to Lord Vargrave?"
"Let us think of it. In the meanwhile, this Mr. Maltravers--"
"Ah, this Mr. Maltravers!"
"The child shows us more of her heart than she thinks of; and yet I
myself am puzzled. If you observe, she has only once or twice spoken of
the Colonel Legard whom she has made acquaintance with; while she treats
at length of Mr. Maltravers, and confesses the effect he has produced on
her mind. Yet, do you know, I more dread the caution respecting the
first than all the candour that betrays the influence of the last? There
is a great difference between first fancy and first love."
"Is there?" said the lady, abstractedly.
"Again, neither of us is acquainted with this singular man,--I mean
Maltravers; his character, temper, and principles, of all of which Evelyn
is too young, too guileless, to judge for herself. One thing, however,
in her letter speaks in his favour."
"What is that?"
"He absents himself from her. This, if he has discovered her secret, or
if he himself is sensible of too great a charm in her presence, would be
the natural course that an honourable and a strong mind would pursue."
"What!--if he love her?"
"Yes; while he believes her hand is engaged to another."
"True! What shall be done--if Evelyn should love, and love in vain? Ah,
it is the misery of a whole existence!"
"Perhaps she had better return to us," said Mr. Aubrey; "and yet, if
already it be too late, and her affections are engaged, we should still
remain in ignorance respecting the motives and mind of the object of her
attachment; and he, too, might not know the true nature of the obstacle
connected with Lord Vargrave's claims."
"Shall I, then, go to her? You know how I shrink from strangers; how I
fear curiosity, doubts, and questions; how [and Lady Vargrave's voice
faltered]--how unfitted I am for--for--" she stopped short, and a faint
blush overspread her cheeks.
The curate understood her, and was moved.
"Dear friend," said he, "will you intrust this charge to myself? You
know how Evelyn is endeared to me by certain recollections! Perhaps,
better than you, I may be enabled silently to examine if this man be
worthy of her, and one who could secure her happiness; perhaps, better
than you I may ascertain the exact nature of her own feelings towards
him; perhaps, too, better than you I may effect an understanding with
Lord Vargrave."
"You are always my kindest friend," said the lady, with emotion; "how
much I already owe you! what hopes beyond the grave! what--"
"Hush!" interrupted the curate, gently; "your own good heart and pure
intentions have worked out your own atonement--may I hope also your own
content? Let us return to our Evelyn. Poor child! how unlike this
despondent letter to her gay light spirits when with us! We acted for
the best; yet perhaps we did wrong to yield her up to strangers. And
this Maltravers--with her enthusiasm and quick susceptibilities to
genius, she was half prepared to imagine him all she depicts him to be.
He must have a spell in his works that I have not discovered, for at
times it seems to operate even on you."
"Because," said Lady Vargrave, "they remind me of _his_ conversation,
_his_ habits of thought. If like _him_ in other things, Evelyn may
indeed be happy!"
"And if," said the curate, curiously,--"if now that you are free, you
were ever to meet with him again, and his memory had been as faithful as
yours; and if he offered the sole atonement in his power, for all that
his early error cost you; if such a chance should happen in the
vicissitudes of life, you would--"
The curate stopped short; for he was struck by the exceeding paleness of
his friend's cheek, and the tremor of her delicate frame.
"If that were to happen," said she, in a very low voice; "if we were to
meet again, and if he were--as you and Mrs. Leslie seem to think--poor,
and, like myself, humbly born, if my fortune could assist him, if my love
could still--changed, altered as I am--ah! do not talk of it--I cannot
bear the thought of happiness! And yet, if before I die I _could_ but
see him again!" She clasped her hands fervently as she spoke, and the
blush that overspread her face threw over it so much of bloom and
freshness, that even Evelyn, at that moment, would scarcely have seemed
more young. "Enough!" she added, after a little while, as the glow died
away. "It is but a foolish hope; all earthly love is buried; and my
heart is there!"--she pointed to the heavens, and both were silent.
CHAPTER II.
QUIBUS otio vel magnifice, vel molliter, vivere copia era
incerta pro certis malebant.*--SALLUST.
* "They who had the means to live at ease, either in splendour or
in luxury, preferred the uncertainty of change to their natural
security."
LORD RABY--one of the wealthiest and most splendid noblemen in
England--was prouder, perhaps, of his provincial distinctions than the
eminence of his rank or the fashion of his wife. The magnificent
chateaux, the immense estates, of our English peers tend to preserve to
us in spite of the freedom, bustle, and commercial grandeur of our people
more of the Norman attributes of aristocracy than can be found in other
countries. In his county, the great noble is a petty prince; his house
is a court; his possessions and munificence are a boast to every
proprietor in his district. They are as fond of talking of _the_ earl's
or _the_ duke's movements and entertainments, as Dangeau was of the
gossip of the Tuileries and Versailles.
Lord Raby, while affecting, as lieutenant of the county, to make no
political distinctions between squire and squire--hospitable and affable
to all--still, by that very absence of exclusiveness, gave a tone to the
politics of the whole county; and converted many who had once thought
differently on the respective virtues of Whigs and Tories. A great man
never loses so much as when he exhibits intolerance, or parades the right
of persecution.
"My tenants shall vote exactly as they please," said Lord Raby; and he
was never known to have a tenant vote against his wishes! Keeping a
vigilant eye on all the interests, and conciliating all the proprietors,
in the county, he not only never lost a friend, but he kept together a
body of partisans that constantly added to its numbers.
Sir John Merton's colleague, a young Lord Nelthorpe, who could not speak
three sentences if you took away his hat, and who, constant at Almack's,
was not only inaudible but invisible in parliament, had no chance of
being re-elected. Lord Nelthorpe's father, the Earl of Mainwaring, was a
new peer; and, next to Lord Raby, the richest nobleman in the county.
Now, though they were much of the same politics, Lord Raby hated Lord
Mainwaring. They were too near each other,--they clashed; they had the
jealousy of rival princes!
Lord Raby was delighted at the notion of getting rid of Lord
Nelthorpe,--it would be so sensible a blow to the Mainwaring interest.
The party had been looking out for a new candidate, and Maltravers had
been much talked of. It is true that, when in parliament some years
before, the politics of Maltravers had differed from those of Lord Raby
and his set. But Maltravers had of late taken no share in politics, had
uttered no political opinions, was intimate with the electioneering
Mertons, was supposed to be a discontented man,--and politicians believe
in no discontent that is not political. Whispers were afloat that
Maltravers had grown wise, and changed his views: some remarks of his,
more theoretical than practical, were quoted in favour of this notion.
Parties, too, had much changed since Maltravers had appeared on the busy
scene,--new questions had arisen, and the old ones had died off.
Lord Raby and his party thought that, if Maltravers could be secured to
them, no one would better suit their purpose. Political faction loves
converts better even than consistent adherents. A man's rise in life
generally dates from a well-timed _rat_. His high reputation, his
provincial rank as the representative of the oldest commoner's family in
the county, his age, which combined the energy of one period with the
experience of another,--all united to accord Maltravers a preference over
richer men. Lord Raby had been pointedly courteous and flattering to the
master of Burleigh; and he now contrived it so, that the brilliant
entertainment he was about to give might appear in compliment to a
distinguished neighbour, returned to fix his residence on his patrimonial
property, while in reality it might serve an electioneering
purpose,--serve to introduce Maltravers to the county, as if under his
lordship's own wing, and minister to political uses that went beyond the
mere representation of the county.
Lord Vargrave had, during his stay at Merton Rectory, paid several visits
to Knaresdean, and held many private conversations with the marquess: the
result of these conversations was a close union of schemes and interests
between the two noblemen. Dissatisfied with the political conduct of
government, Lord Raby was also dissatisfied that, from various party
reasons, a nobleman beneath himself in rank, and as he thought in
influence, had obtained a preference in a recent vacancy among the
Knights of the Garter. And if Vargrave had a talent in the world it was
in discovering the weak points of men whom he sought to gain, and making
the vanities of others conduce to his own ambition.
The festivities of Knaresdean gave occasion to Lord Raby to unite at his
house the more prominent of those who thought and acted in concert with
Lord Vargrave; and in this secret senate the operations for the following
session were to be seriously discussed and gravely determined.
On the day which was to be concluded with the ball at Knaresdean, Lord
Vargrave went before the rest of the Merton party, for he was engaged to
dine with the marquess.
On arriving at Knaresdean, Lumley found Lord Saxingham and some other
politicians, who had arrived the preceding day, closeted with Lord Raby;
and Vargrave, who shone to yet greater advantage in the diplomacy of
party management than in the arena of parliament, brought penetration,
energy, and decision to timid and fluctuating counsels. Lord Vargrave
lingered in the room after the first bell had summoned the other guests
to depart.
"My dear lord," said he then, "though no one would be more glad than
myself to secure Maltravers to our side, I very much doubt whether you
will succeed in doing so. On the one hand, he appears altogether
disgusted with politics and parliament; and on the other hand, I fancy
that reports of his change of opinions are, if not wholly unfounded, very
unduly coloured. Moreover, to do him justice, I think that he is not one
to be blinded and flattered into the pale of a party; and your bird will
fly away after you have wasted a bucketful of salt on his tail."
"Very possibly," said Lord Raby, laughing,--"you know him better than I
do. But there are many purposes to serve in this matter,--purposes too
provincial to interest you. In the first place, we shall humble the
Nelthorpe interest, merely by showing that we _do_ think of a new member;
secondly, we shall get up a manifestation of feeling that would be
impossible, unless we were provided with a centre of attraction; thirdly,
we shall rouse a certain emulation among other county gentlemen, and if
Maltravers decline, we shall have many applicants; and fourthly, suppose
Maltravers has not changed his opinions, we shall make him suspected by
the party he really does belong to, and which would be somewhat
formidable if he were to head them. In fact, these are mere county
tactics that you can't be expected to understand."
"I see you are quite right: meanwhile you will at least have an
opportunity (though I say it, who should not say it) to present to the
county one of the prettiest young ladies that ever graced the halls of
Knaresdean."
"Ah, Miss Cameron! I have heard much of her beauty: you are a lucky
fellow, Vargrave! By the by, are we to say anything of the engagement?"
"Why, indeed, my dear lord, it is now so publicly known, that it would be
false delicacy to affect concealment."
"Very well; I understand."
"How long I have detained you--a thousand pardons!--I have but just time
to dress. In four or five months I must remember to leave you a longer
time for your toilet."
"Me--how?"
"Oh, the Duke of ----- can't live long; and I always observe that when a
handsome man has the Garter, he takes a long time pulling up his
stockings."
"Ha, ha! you are so droll, Vargrave."
"Ha, ha! I must be off."
"The more publicity is given to this arrangement, the more difficult for
Evelyn to shy at the leap," muttered Vargrave to himself as he closed the
door. "Thus do I make all things useful to myself!"
The dinner party were assembled in the great drawing-room, when
Maltravers and Cleveland, also invited guests to the banquet, were
announced. Lord Raby received the former with marked _empressement_; and
the stately marchioness honoured him with her most gracious smile.
Formal presentations to the rest of the guests were interchanged; and it
was not till the circle was fully gone through that Maltravers perceived,
seated by himself in a corner, to which he had shrunk on the entrance of
Maltravers, a gray-haired solitary man,--it was Lord Saxingham! The last
time they had met was in the death-chamber of Florence; and the old man
forgot for the moment the anticipated dukedom, and the dreamed-of
premiership, and his heart flew back to the grave of his only child!
They saluted each other, and shook hands in silence. And Vargrave--whose
eye was on them--Vargrave, whose arts had made that old man childless,
felt not a pang of remorse! Living ever in the future, Vargrave almost
seemed to have lost his memory. He knew not what regret was. It is a
condition of life with men thoroughly worldly that they never look
behind!
The signal was given: in due order the party were marshalled into the
great hall,--a spacious and lofty chamber, which had received its last
alteration from the hand of Inigo Jones; though the massive ceiling, with
its antique and grotesque masques, betrayed a much earlier date, and
contrasted with the Corinthian pilasters that adorned the walls, and
supported the music-gallery, from which waved the flags of modern warfare
and its mimicries,--the eagle of Napoleon, a token of the services of
Lord Raby's brother (a distinguished cavalry officer in command at
Waterloo), in juxtaposition with a much gayer and more glittering banner,
emblematic of the martial fame of Lord Raby himself, as Colonel of the
B-----shire volunteers!
The music pealed from the gallery, the plate glittered on the board; the
ladies wore diamonds, and the gentlemen who had them wore stars. It was
a very fine sight, that banquet!--such as became the festive day of a
lord-lieutenant whose ancestors had now defied, and now intermarried,
with royalty. But there was very little talk, and no merriment. People
at the top of the table drank wine with those at the bottom; and
gentlemen and ladies seated next to each other whispered languidly in
monosyllabic commune. On one side, Maltravers was flanked by a Lady
Somebody Something, who was rather deaf, and very much frightened for
fear he should talk Greek; on the other side he was relieved by Sir John
Merton,--very civil, very pompous, and talking, at strictured intervals,
about county matters, in a measured intonation, savouring of the
House-of-Commons jerk at the end of the sentence.
As the dinner advanced to its close, Sir John became a little more
diffuse, though his voice sank into a whisper.
"I fear there will be a split in the Cabinet before parliament meets."
"Indeed!"
"Yes; Vargrave and the premier cannot pull together very long. Clever
man, Vargrave! but he has not enough stake in the country for a leader!"
"All men have public character to stake; and if that be good, I suppose
no stake can be better?"
"Humph!--yes--very true; but still, when a man has land and money, his
opinions, in a country like this, very properly carry more weight with
them. If Vargrave, for instance, had Lord Raby's property, no man could
be more fit for a leader,--a prime minister. We might then be sure that
he would have no selfish interest to further: he would not play tricks
with his party--you understand?"
"Perfectly."
"I am not a party man, as you may remember; indeed, you and I have voted
alike on the same questions. Measures, not men,--that is my maxim; but
still I don't like to see men placed above their proper stations."
"Maltravers, a glass of wine," said Lord Vargrave across the table.
"Will you join us, Sir John?"
Sir John bowed.
"Certainly," he resumed, "Vargrave is a pleasant man and a good speaker;
but still they say he is far from rich,--embarrassed, indeed. However,
when he marries Miss Cameron it may make a great difference,--give him
more respectability; do you know what her fortune is--something immense?"
"Yes, I believe so; I don't know."
"My brother says that Vargrave is most amiable. The young lady is very
handsome, almost too handsome for a wife--don't you think so? Beauties
are all very well in a ballroom; but they are not calculated for domestic
life. I am sure you agree with me. I have heard, indeed, that Miss
Cameron is rather learned; but there is so much scandal in a country
neighbourhood,--people are so ill-natured. I dare say she is not more
learned than other young ladies, poor girl! What do you think?"
"Miss Cameron is--is very accomplished, I believe. And so you think the
Government cannot stand?"
"I don't say that,--very far from it; but I fear there must be a change.
However, if the country gentlemen hold together, I do not doubt but what
we shall weather the storm. The landed interest, Mr. Maltravers, is the
great stay of this country,--the sheet-anchor, I may say. I suppose Lord
Vargrave, who seems, I must say, to have right notions on this head, will
invest Miss Cameron's fortune in land. But though one may buy an estate,
one can't buy an old family, Mr. Maltravers!--you and I may be thankful
for that. By the way, who was Miss Cameron's mother, Lady
Vargrave?--something low, I fear; nobody knows."
"I am not acquainted with Lady Vargrave; your sister-in-law speaks of her
most highly. And the daughter in herself is a sufficient guarantee for
the virtues of the mother."