Book: Marriage

S >> Susan Edmonstone Ferrier >> Marriage




"Undoubtedly," said her Ladyship.

"But for you, it appears that she would not have known--certainly never
would have acknowledged that her husband had an aunt?"

"Certainly not," said Lady Juliana, warmly.

"It is a most admirable plan," continued Lady Emily in the same manner,
"and I shall certainly adopt it. When I have children I am determined
they shall be answerable for my making a foolish marriage; and it shall
be their fault if my husband has a mother. _En attendant,_ I am
determined to patronise Edward's relations to the last degree; and
therefore, unless Mary is permitted to visit her aunt as often as she
pleases, I shall make a point of bringing the dear Aunt Grizzy here. Yes"
(Putting her hand to the bell), "I shall order my carriage this instant,
and set off. To-morrow, you know, we give a grand dinner in
honour of Adelaide's marriage. Aunt Grizzy shall be queen of the feast."

Lady Juliana was almost suffocated with passion; but she knew her niece
too well to doubt her putting her threat into execution, and there was
distraction in the idea of the vulgar obscure Grizzy Douglas being
presented to a fashionable party as her aunt. After a violent
altercation, in which Mary took no part, an ungracious permission was at
length extorted, which Mary eagerly availed herself of; and, charged
with kind messages from Lady Emily, set off in quest of Aunt Grizzy and
the green door.

After much trouble, and many unsuccessful attacks upon green doors and
balconies, she was going to give up the search in despair, when her eye
was attracted by the figure of Aunt Grizzy herself at full length,
stationed at a window, in an old-fashioned riding-habit and spectacles.
The carriage was stopped and in an instant Mary was in the arms of her
aunt, all agitation, as Lochmarlie flashed on her fancy, at again
hearing its native accents uttered by the voice familiar to her from
infancy. Yet the truth must be owned, Mary's taste was somewhat
startled, even while her heart warmed at the sight of the good old aunt.
Association and affection still retained their magical influence over
her; but absence had dispelled the blest illusions of habitual
intercourse; and for the first time she beheld her aunt freed from its
softening spell. Still her heart clung to her, as to one known and loved
from infancy; and she Soon rose superior to the weakness she felt was
besetting her in the slight sensation of shame, as she contrasted her
awkward manner and uncouth accent with the graceful refinement of those
with whom she associated.

Far different were the sensations with which the good spinster regarded
her niece. She could not often enough declare her admiration of the
improvements that had taken place. Mary was grown taller, and stouter,
and fairer and fatter, and her back was a straight as an arrow, and her
carriage would even surprise Miss M'Gowk herself. It was quite
astonishing to see her, for she had always understood Scotland was the
place for beauty, and that nobody ever came to anything in England. Even
Sir Sampson and Lady Maclaughlan were forgot as she stood riveted in
admiration, and Mary was the first to recall her recollection to them.
Sir Sampson, indeed, might well have been overlooked by a more accurate
observer; for, as Grizzy observed, he was worn away to nothing, and the
little that remained seemed as if it might have gone too without being
any loss. He was now deaf, paralytic, and childish, and the only symptom
of life he showed was an increased restlessness and peevishness. His
lady sat by him, calmly pursuing her work, and, without relaxing from it,
merely held up her face to salute Mary as she approached her.

"So I'm glad you are no worse than you was, dear child," surveying her
from head to foot; "that's more than _we_ can say. You see these poor
creatures," pointing to Sir Sampson and Aunt Grizzy. "They are much about
it now. Well, we know what we are, but God knows what we shall
be--humph!"

Sir Sampson showed no signs of recognising her, but seemed pleased when
Grizzy resumed her station beside him; and began for the five hundredth
time to tell him why he was not in Lochmarlie Castle, and why he was in
Bath.

Mary now saw that there are situations in which a weak capacity has its
uses, and that the most foolish chat may sometimes impart greater
pleasure than all the wisdom of the schools, even when proceeding from a
benevolent heart.

Sir Sampson and Grizzy were so much upon a pair in intellect, that they
were reciprocally happy in each other. This the strong sense of Lady
Maclaughlan had long perceived, and was the principal reason of her
selecting so weak a woman as her companion; though, at the same time, in
justice to her Ladyship's heart as well as head, she had that partiality
for her friend for which no other reason can be assigned than that given
by Montaigne: "Je l'amais parceque c'etoit _elle,_ parceque c'etoit moi."

Mary paid a long visit to her aunt, and then took leave, promising to
return the following day to take Miss Grizzy to deliver a letter of
introduction she had received, and which had not been left to the chance
of the carrier and the snow.




CHAPTER XXIII.

"This sort of person is skilled to assume the appearance of all virtues
and all good qualities; but their favourite mask is universal
benevolence. And the reason why they prefer this disguise to all others,
is, that it tends to conceal its opposite, which is, indeed, their true
character--an universal selfishness."

--KNOX'S _Essays._

ALTHOUGH, on her return, Mary read her mother's displeasure in her
looks, and was grieved at again having incurred it, she yet felt it a
duty towards her father to persevere in her attentions to his aunt. She
was old, poor, and unknown, plain in her person, weak in her intellects,
vulgar in her manners; but she was related to her by ties more binding
than the laws of fashion or the rules of taste. Even these
disadvantages, which, to a worldly mind, would have served as excuses
for neglecting her, to Mary's generous nature were so many incentives to
treat her with kindness and attention. Faithful to her promise,
therefore, she repaired to Milsom Street, and found her aunt all
impatience for her arrival, with the letter so firmly grasped in both
hands, that she seemed almost afraid to trust anyone with a glance at
the direction.

"This letter, Mary," said she, when they were seated in the carriage,
"will be a great thing for me, and especially for you. I got it from
Mrs. Menzies, through Mrs. M'Drone, whose friend, Mrs. Campbell's
half-sister, Miss Grant, is a great friend of Mrs. Fox's, and she says
she is a most charming woman. Of course she is no friend to the great
Fox; or you know it would have been very odd in me, with Sir Sampson's
principles, and my poor brother's principles, and all our own
principles, to have visited her. But she's quite of a different family
of Foxes: she's a Fox of Peckwell, it seems--a most amiable woman, very
rich, and prodigiously charitable. I am sure we have been most fortunate
in getting a letter to such a woman." And with this heartfelt
ejaculation they found themselves at Mrs. Fox's.

Everything corresponded with the account of this lady's wealth and
consequence; the house was spacious and handsomely furnished, with its
due proportion of livery servants; and they were ushered into a
sitting-room which was filled with all the 'wonders of nature and
art,--Indian shells, inlaid cabinets, ivory boxes, stuffed birds, old
china, Chinese mandarins, stood disclosed in all their charms. The lady
of this mansion was seated at table covered with works of a different
description: it exhibited the various arts of woman, in regular
gradation, from the painted card-rack and gilded firescreen, to the
humble thread-paper and shirt-button. Mrs. Fox was a fine,
fashionable-looking woman, with a smooth skin, and still smoother
address. She received her visitors with that overstrained complaisance
which, to Mary's nicer tact, at once discovered that all was hollow; but
poor Miss Grizzy was scarcely seated before she was already transfixed
with admiration at Mrs. Fox's politeness, and felt as if her whole life
would be too short to repay such kindness. Compliments over--the
weather, etc., discussed, Mrs. Fox began:

"You must be surprised, ladies, to see me in the midst of such a litter,
but you find me busy arranging the works of some poor _protegees_ of
mine. A most unfortunate family!--I have given them what little
instruction I could in these little female works; and you see," putting
a gaudy work-basket into Grizzy's hands, "it is astonishing what
progress they have made. My friends have been most liberal in their
purchases of these trifles, but I own I am a wretched beggar. They are
in bad hands when they are in mine, poor souls! The fact is, I can give,
but I cannot beg. I tell them they really must find somebody else to
dispose of their little labours--somebody who has more of what I call
the gift of begging than I am blest with."

Tears of admiration stood in Grizzy's eye; her hand was in her
pocket. She looked to Mary, but Mary's hands and eyes betrayed no
corresponding emotions; she felt only disgust at the meanness and
indelicacy of the mistress of such a mansion levying contributions from
the stranger within her door.

Mrs. Fox proceeded: "That most benevolent woman Miss Gull was here this
morning, and bought no less than seven of these sweet little
pincushions. I would fain have dissuaded her from taking so many--it
really seemed such a stretch of virtue; but she said, 'My dear Mrs. Fox,
how can one possibly spend their money better than in doing a good
action, and at the same time enriching themselves?'"

Grizzy's purse was in her hand. "I declare that's very true. I never
thought of that before; and I'm certain Lady Maclaughlan will say the
very same; and I'm sure she will be delighted--I've no doubt of that--to
take a pincushion; and each of my sisters I'm certain, will take one,
though we have all plenty of pincushions; and I'll take one to myself,
though I have three, I'm sure, that I've never used yet."

"My dear Miss Douglas, you really are, I could almost say, _too_ good.
Two and two's four, and one's five--five half-crowns! My poor
_protegees!_ you will really be the making of their fortune!"

Grizzy, with trembling hands, and a face flushed with conscious virtue,
drew forth the money from her little hoard.

But Mrs. Fox did not quit her prey so easily. "If any of your friends
are in want of shirt-buttons, Miss Douglas, I would fain recommend those
to them. They are made by a poor woman in whom I take some interest, and
are far superior to any that are to be had from the shops. They are made
from the very best materials. Indeed, I take care of that, as" (in a
modest whisper) "I furnish her with the material myself; but the
generality of those you get to purchase are made from old materials.
I've ascertained that, and it's a fact you may rely upon."

Poor Grizzy's hair stood on end, to hear of such depravity in a sphere
where she had never even suspected it; but, for the honour of her
country, she flattered herself such practices were there unknown; and
she was entering upon a warm vindication of the integrity of Scotch
shirt-buttons, when Mrs. Fox coolly observed--

"Indeed, our friend Miss Grant was so conscious of the great superiority
of these buttons over any others, that she bespoke thirty-six dozen of
them to take to Scotland with her. In fact, they are the real good
old-fashioned shirt-buttons, such as I have heard my mother talk of; and
for all that, I make a point of my poor woman selling them a penny a
dozen below the shop price; so that in taking twelve dozen, which is the
common quantity, there is a shilling saved at once."

Grizzy felt as if she would be the saving of the family by the
purchase of these incomparable shirt buttons, and, putting down her five
shillings, became the happy possessor of twelve dozen of them.

Fresh expressions of gratitude and admiration ensued, till Grizzy's
brain began to whirl even more rapidly than usual, at the thought of the
deeds she had done.

"And now," said Mrs. Fox, observing her eyes in a fine frenzy rolling
from her lapful of pincushions and shirt buttons, to a mandarin nearly
as large as life, "perhaps, my dear Miss Douglas, you will do me the
favour to take a look of my little collection."

"Favour!" thought Grizzy; "what politeness!" and she protested there was
nothing she liked so much as to look at everything, and that it would be
the greatest favour to show her anything. The mandarin was made to shake
his head--a musical snuffbox played its part--and a variety of other
expensive toys were also exhibited.

Mary's disgust increased. "And this woman," thought she, "professes to
be charitable amidst all this display of selfish extravagance. Probably
the price of one of these costly baubles would have provided for the
whole of these poor people for whom she affects so much compassion,
without subjecting her to the meanness of turning her house into a
beggar's repository." And she walked away to the other end of the room
to examine some fine scriptural paintings.

"Here," said Mrs. Fox to her victim, as she unlocked a superb cabinet,
"is what I value more than my whole collection put together. It is my
specimens of Scotch pebbles; and I owe them solely to the generosity and
good-will of my Scotch friends. I assure you that is a proud reflection
to me. I am a perfect enthusiast in Scotch pebbles, and, I may say, in
Scotch people. In fact, I am an enthusiast in whatever I am interested
in; and at present, I must own, my heart is set upon making a complete
collection of Scotch pebbles."

Grizzy began to feel a sort of tightness at her throat, at which was
affixed a very fine pebble brooch pertaining to Nicky, but lent to
Grizzy, to enable her to make a more distinguished figure in the gay
world.

"Oh!" thought she, "what a pity this brooch is Nicky's, and not mine; I
would have given it to this charming Mrs. Fox. Indeed, I don't see how I
can be off giving it to her, even although it is Nicky's."

"And, by-the-bye," exclaimed Mrs. Fox, as if suddenly struck with the
sight of the brooch, "that seems a very fine stone of yours. I wonder I
did not observe it sooner; but, indeed, pebbles are thrown away in
dress. May I beg a nearer view of it?"

Grizzy's brain was now all on fire. On the one hand there was the glory
of presenting the brooch to such a polite, charitable, charming woman;
on the other, there was the fear of Nicky's indignation. But then it was
quite thrown away upon Nicky--she had no cabinet, and Mrs. Fox had
declared that pebbles were quite lost anywhere but in cabinets, and it
was a thousand pities that Nicky's brooch should be lost. All these
thoughts Grizzy revolved with her usual clearness, as she unclasped the
brooch, and gave it into the hand of the collector.

"Bless me, my dear Miss Douglas, this is really a very fine stone! I had
no conception of it when I saw it sticking in your throat. It looks
quite a different thing in the hand; it is a species I am really not
acquainted with. I have nothing at all similar to it in my poor
collection. Pray, can you tell me the name of it, and where it is found,
that I may at least endeavour to procure a piece of it."

"I'm sure I wish to goodness my sister Nicky was here--I'm certain she
would--though, to be sure, she has a great regard for it; for it was
found on the Glenfern estate the very day my grandfather won his plea
against Drimsydie; and we always called it the lucky stone from that."

"The lucky stone! what a delightful name! I shall never think myself in
luck till I can procure a piece of your lucky stone. I protest, I could
almost go to Scotland on purpose. Oh, you dear lucky stone!" kissing it
with rapture.

"I'm sure--I'm almost certain--indeed, I'm convinced, if my sister Nicky
was here, she would be delighted to offer-- It would certainly be
doing my sister Nicky the greatest favour, since you think it would be
seen to so much greater advantage in your cabinet, which, for my own
part, I have not the least doubt of, as certainly my sister Nicky very
seldom wears it for fear of losing it, and it would be a thousand pities
if it was lost; and, to be sure, it will be much safer locked up--nobody
can dispute that--so I am sure it's by far the best thing my sister
Nicky can do--for certainly a pebble brooch is quite lost as a brooch."

"My dear Miss Douglas! I am really quite ashamed! This is a perfect
robbery, I protest! But I must insist upon your accepting some little
token of my regard for Miss Nicky in return." Going to her
charity-table, and returning with a set of painted thread-papers, "I
must request the favour of you to present these to Miss Nicky, with my
kind regards, and assure her I shall consider her lucky stone as the
most precious jewel in my possession."

The whole of this scene had been performed with such rapidity that poor
Grizzy was not prepared for the sudden metamorphose of Nicky's pebble
brooch into a set of painted thread-papers, and some vague alarms began
to float through her brain.

Mary now advanced, quite unconscious of what had been going on; and
having whispered her aunt to take leave, they departed. They returned in
silence. Grizzy was so occupied in examining her pincushions and
counting her buttons, that she never looked up till the carriage stopped
in Milsom Street.

Mary accompanied her in. Grizzy was all impatience to display her
treasures; and as she hastily unfolded them, began to relate her
achievements. Lady Maclaughlan heard her in silence, and a deep groan
was all that she uttered; but Grizzy was too well accustomed to be
groaned at, to be at all appalled, and went on, "But all that's nothing
to the shirt-buttons, made of Mrs. Fox's own linen, and only five
shillings the twelve dozen; and considering what tricks are played with
shirt-buttons now--I assure you people require to be on their guard with
shirt-buttons now."

"Pray, my dear, did you ever read the 'Vicar of Wakefield?'"

"The 'Vicar of Wakefield?' I--I think always I must have read it:--at
any rate, I'm certain I've heard of it."

"Moses and his green spectacles was as one of the acts of Solomon
compared to you and your shirtbuttons. Pray, which of you is it that
wears shirts?"

"I declare that's very true--I wonder I did not think of that sooner--to
be sure, none us wear shirts since my poor brother died."

"And what's become of her brooch?" turning to Mary, who for the first
time observed the departure of Nicky's crown jewel.

"Oh, as to the brooch," cried Grizzy, "I'm certain you'll all think that
well bestowed, and certainly it has been the saving of it." Upon which
she commenced a most entangled narrative, from which the truth was at
length extracted.

"Well," said Lady Maclaughlan, "there are two things God grant I may
never become,--an, _amateur_ in charity, and a collector of curiosities.
No Christian can be either--both are pickpockets. I wouldn't keep
company with my own mother were she either one or other--humph!"

Mary was grieved at the loss of the brooch; but Grizzy seemed more than
ever satisfied with the exchange, as Sir Sampson had taken a fancy for
the thread-papers, and it would amuse him for the rest of the day to be
told every two minutes what they were intended for. Mary therefore left
her quite happy, and returned to Beech Park.




CHAPTER XXIV.

"He either fears his fate too much,
Or his deserts are small,
Who dares not put it to the touch,
To gain or lose it all."

_Marquis of Montrose._

TIME rolled on, but no event occurred in Grizzy's life worthy of being
commemorated. Lady Juliana began to recover from the shock of her
arrival, and at length was even prevailed upon to pay her a visit, and
actually spent five minutes in the same room with her. All her
Ladyship's plans seemed now on the point of being accomplished. Mr.
Downe Wright was now Lord Glenallan, with an additional fifteen thousand
per annum, and by wiser heads than hers would have been thought an
unexceptionable match for any young woman. Leaving his mother to settle
his affairs in Scotland, to which she was much more _au fait_ than
himself, he hastened to Beech Park to claim Mary's promised hand.

But neither wealth nor grandeur possessed any sway over Mary's
well-regulated mind, and she turned from that species of happiness which
she felt would be insufficient to satisfy the best affections of her
heart. "No," thought she, "it is not in splendour and distinction that I
shall find happiness; it is in the cultivation of the domestic
virtues--the peaceful joys of a happy home and a loved companion, that
my felicity must consist. Without these I feel that I should still be
poor, were I mistress of millions;" and she took the first opportunity
of acquainting Lord Glenallan with the nature of her sentiments.

He received the communication with painful surprise; but as he was one
of those who do not easily divest themselves of an idea that has once
taken possession of their brain, he seemed resolved to persevere in his
quiet, though pointed attentions.

Lady Juliana's anger at the discovery of her daughter's refusal it
is needless to describe--it may easily be imagined; and poor Mary was
almost heartbroken by the violence and duration of it. Sometimes she
wavered in her ideas as to whether she was doing right in thus resisting
her mother's wishes; and in the utmost distress she mentioned her
scruples to Lady Emily.

"As to Lady Juliana's wishes," said her cousin, "they are mere
soap-bubbles; but as to your own views--why, really you are somewhat of
a riddle to me. I rather think, were I such a quiet, civil,
well-disposed person as you, I could have married Lord Glenallan well
enough. He is handsome, good-natured, and rich; and though 'he is but a
Lord, and nothing but a Lord,' still there is a dash and bustle in
twenty thousand a year that takes off from the ennui of a dull
companion. With five hundred a year, I grant you, he would be
execrable."

"Then I shall never marry a man with twenty thousand a year whom I would
not have with five hundred."

"In short, you are to marry for love--that's the old story, which, with
all your wisdom, you wise, well-educated girls always end in. Where
shall I find a hero upon five hundred a year for you? Of course he must
be virtuous, noble, dignified, handsome, brave, witty. What would you
think of Charles Lennox?"

Mary coloured. "After what passed, I would not marry Colonel Lennox;
no"--affecting to smile--"not if he were to ask me, which is certainly
the most unlikely of all things."

"Ah! true, I had forgot that scrape. No, that won't do; it certainly
would be most pitiful in you, after what passed. Well, I don't know
what's to be done with you. There's nothing for it but that you should
take Lord Glenallan, with all his imperfections on his head; and, after
all, I really see nothing that he wants but a little more brain, and as
you'll have the managing of him you can easily supply that deficiency."

"Indeed," answered Mary, "I find I have quite little enough for myself,
and I have no genius whatever for managing. I shall therefore never
marry, unless I marry a man on whose judgment I could rely for advice
and assistance, and for whom I could feel a certain deference that I
consider due from a wife to her husband."

"I see what you would be at," said Lady Emily; "you mean to model
yourself upon the behaviour of Mrs. Tooley, who has such a deference for
the judgment of her better half, that she consults him even about the
tying of her shoes, and would not presume to give her child a few grains
of magnesia without this full and unqualified approbation. Now I flatter
myself my husband and I shall have a more equitable division; for,
though man is a reasonable being, he shall know and own that woman is so
too--sometimes. All things that men ought to know better I shall yield;
whatever may belong to either sex, I either seize upon as my
prerogative, or scrupulously divide; for which reason I should like the
profession of my husband to be something in which I could not possibly
interfere. How difficult must it be for a woman in the lower ranks of
life to avoid teaching her husband how to sew, if he is a tailor; or how
to bake, if he is a baker, etc.

"Nature seems to have provided for this tendency of both sexes, by
making your sensible men--that is, men who think themselves sensible,
and wish everybody else to think the same--incline to foolish women. I
can detect one of these sensible husbands at a glance, by the pomp and
formality visible in every word, look, or action--men, in short, whose
'visages do cream and mantle like a standing pond;' who are perfect
Joves in their own houses--who speak their will by a nod, and lay down
the law by the motion of their eyebrow--and who attach prodigious ideas
of dignity to frightening their children, and being worshipped by their
wives, till you see one of these wiseacres looking as if he thought
himself and his obsequious helpmate were exact personifications of Adam
and Eve--' he for God only, she for God in him.' Now I am much afraid,
Mary, with all your sanctity, you are in some danger of becoming one of
these idolatresses."

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