The Absentee (33 page)

'And pray, my lord,' said her ladyship, 'order the carriage to the
door; for, as soon as you have my signature, I hope you'll let me off to
Buxton.'

'Oh, certainly—the carriage is ordered—everything ready, my dear.'

'And pray tell Grace to be ready,' added Lady Clonbrony.

'That's not necessary; for she is always ready,' said Lord Clonbrony.
'Come, Colambre,' added he, taking his son under the arm, and carrying
him up to Miss Nugent's dressing-room.

They knocked, and were admitted.

'Ready!' said Lord Clonbrony; 'ay, always ready—so I said. Here's
Colambre, my darling,' continued he, 'has secured your fortune to you to
my heart's content; but he would not condescend to come up to tell you
so, till I made him. Here's the bond; put your hand to it, Colambre; you
were ready enough to do that when it cost you something; and now, all I
have to ask of you is, to persuade her to marry out of hand, that I
may see her happy before I die. Now my heart's at ease! I can meet Mr.
Salisbury with a safe conscience. One kiss, my little Grace. If anybody
can persuade you, I'm sure it's that man that's now leaning against
the mantelpiece. It's Colambre's will, or your heart's not made like
mine—so I leave you.'

And out of the room walked he, leaving his poor son in as awkward,
embarrassing, and painful a situation, as could well be conceived. Half
a dozen indistinct ideas crossed his mind; quick conflicting feelings
made his heart beat and stop. And how it would have ended, if he had
been left to himself, whether he would have stood or fallen, have spoken
or have continued silent, can never now be known, for all was decided
without the action of his will. He was awakened from his trance by these
simple words from Miss Nugent—

'I'm much obliged to you, cousin Colambre—more obliged to you for
your kindness in thinking of me first, in the midst of all your other
business, than by your securing my fortune. Friendship—and your
friendship—is worth more to me than fortune. May I believe that is
secured?'

'Believe it! Oh, Grace, can you doubt it?'

'I will not; it would make me too unhappy. I will not.'

'You need not.'

'That is enough—I am satisfied—I ask no farther explanation. You are
truth itself—one word from you is security sufficient. We are friends
for life,' said she, taking his hand between both of hers; 'are not we?'

'We are—and therefore sit down, cousin Grace, and let me claim the
privilege of friendship, and speak to you of him who aspires to be more
than your friend for life, Mr.—'

Mr. Salisbury!' said Miss Nugent; 'I saw him yesterday. We had a very
long conversation; I believe he understands my sentiments perfectly, and
that he no longer thinks of being more to me than a friend for life.'

'You have refused him!'

'Yes. I have a high opinion of Mr. Salisbury's understanding, a great
esteem for his character; I like his manners and conversation; but I do
not love him, and therefore, you know, I could not marry him.'

'But, my dear Miss Nugent, with a high opinion, a great esteem, and
liking his manners and conversation, in such a well-regulated mind as
yours, can there be a better foundation for love?'

'It is an excellent foundation,' said she; 'but I never went any
farther than the foundation; and, indeed, I never wished to proceed any
farther.'

Lord Colambre scarcely dared to ask why; but, after some pause, he
said—

'I don't wish to intrude upon your confidence.'

'You cannot intrude upon my confidence; I am ready to give it to
you entirely, frankly; I hesitated only because another person was
concerned. Do you remember, at my aunt's gala, a lady who danced with
Mr. Salisbury?'

'Not in the least.'

'A lady with whom you and Mr. Salisbury were talking, just before
supper, in the Turkish tent.'

'Not in the least.'

'As we went down to supper, you told me you had had a delightful
conversation with her—that you thought her a charming woman.'

'A charming woman!—I have not the slightest recollection of her.'

'And you told me that she and Mr. Salisbury had been praising me A
L'ENVIE L'UNE ET L'AUTRE.'

'Oh, I recollect her now perfectly,' said Lord Colambre; 'But what of
her?'

'She is the woman who, I hope, will be Mrs. Salisbury. Ever since I have
been acquainted with them both, I have seen that they were suited to
each other; and fancy, indeed I am almost sure, that she could love him,
tenderly love him—and, I know, I could not. But my own sentiments, you
may be sure, are all I ever told Mr. Salisbury.'

'But of your own sentiments you may not be sure,' said Lord Colambre;
'and I see no reason why you should give him up from false generosity.'

'Generosity?' interrupted Miss Nugent; 'you totally misunderstand me;
there is no generosity, nothing for me to give up in the case. I did not
refuse Mr. Salisbury from generosity, but because I did not love him.
Perhaps my seeing this at first prevented me from thinking of him as
a lover; but, from whatever cause, I certainly never felt love for Mr.
Salisbury, nor any of that pity which is said to lead to love; perhaps,'
added she, smiling, 'because I was aware that he would be so much better
off after I refused him—so much happier with one suited to him in age,
talents, fortune, and love—"What bliss, did he but know his bliss,"
were HIS!'

'Did he but know his bliss,' repeated Lord Colambre; 'but is not he the
best judge of his own bliss?'

'And am not I the best judge of mine?' said Miss Nugent; 'I go no
farther.'

'You are; and I have no right to go farther. Yet, this much permit me
to say, my dear Grace, that it would give me sincere pleasure, that is,
real satisfaction, to see you happily—established.'

'Thank you, my dear Lord Colambre; but you spoke that like a man of
seventy at least, with the most solemn gravity of demeanour.'

'I meant to be serious, not solemn,' said Lord Colambre, endeavouring to
change his tone.

'There now,' said she, in a playful tone, 'you have SERIOUSLY
accomplished the task my good uncle set you; so I will report well of
you to him, and certify that you did all that in you lay to exhort me
to marry; that you have even assured me that it would give you sincere
pleasure, that is, real satisfaction, to see me happily established.'

'Oh, Grace, if you knew how much I felt when I said that, you would
spare this raillery.'

'I will be serious—I am most seriously convinced of the sincerity of
your affection for me; I know my happiness is your object in all you
have said, and I thank you from my heart for the interest you take about
me. But really and truly, I do not wish to marry. This is not a mere
commonplace speech; but I have not yet seen any man I could love. I like
you, cousin Colambre, better than Mr. Salisbury—I would rather live
with you than with him; you know that is a certain proof that I am not
likely to be in love with him. I am happy as I am, especially now we are
all going to dear Ireland, home, to live together: you cannot conceive
with what pleasure I look forward to that.'

Lord Colambre was not vain; but love quickly sees love where it exists,
or foresees the probability, the possibility of its existence. He saw
that Miss Nugent might love him tenderly, passionately; but that duty,
habit, the prepossession that it was impossible she could marry her
cousin Colambre—a prepossession instilled into her by his mother—had
absolutely prevented her from ever yet thinking of him as a lover. He
saw the hazard for her, he felt the danger for himself. Never had she
appeared to him so attractive as at this moment, when he felt the hope
that he could obtain return of love.

'But St. Omar!—Why! why is she a St, Omar!—illegitimate!—"No St.
Omar SANS REPROCHE." My wife she cannot be—I will not engage her
affections.'

Swift as thoughts in moments of strong feeling pass in the mind without
being put into words, our hero thought all this, and determined, cost
what it would, to act honourably.

'You spoke of my returning to Ireland, my dear Grace. I have not yet
told you my plans.'

'Plans! are not you returning with us?' said she, precipitately; 'are
not you going to Ireland—home—with us?'

'No—I am going to serve a campaign or two abroad. I think every young
man in these times—'

'Good heavens! What does this mean? What can you mean?' cried she,
fixing her eyes upon his, as if she would read his very soul. 'Why? what
reason?—Oh, tell me the truth and at once.'

His change of colour—his hand that trembled, and withdrew from
hers—the expression of his eyes as they met hers—revealed the truth to
her at once. As it flashed across her mind, she started back; her face
grew crimson, and, in the same instant, pale as death.

'Yes—you see, you feel the truth now,' said Lord Colambre. 'You see,
you feel, that I love you—passionately.'

'Oh, let me not hear it!' said she; 'I must not—ought not. Never,
till this moment, did such a thought cross my mind—I thought it
impossible—oh, make me think so still.'

'I will—it is impossible that we can ever be united.'

'I always thought so,' said she, taking breath with a deep sigh. 'Then
why not live as we have lived?'

'I cannot—I cannot answer for myself—I will not run the risk; and
therefore I must quit you—knowing, as I do, that there is an invincible
obstacle to our union, of what nature I cannot explain; I beg you not to
inquire.'

'You need not beg it—I shall not inquire—I have no curiosity—none,'
said she, in a passive, dejected tone; 'that is not what I am thinking
of in the least. I know there are invincible obstacles; I wish it to
be so. But, if invincible, you who have so much sense, honour, and
virtue—'

'I hope, my dear cousin, that I have honour and virtue. But there are
temptations to which no wise, no good man will expose himself. Innocent
creature! you do not know the power of love. I rejoice that you have
always thought it impossible—think so still—it will save you from—all
I must endure. Think of me but as your cousin, your friend—give your
heart to some happier man. As your friend, your true friend, I conjure
you, give your heart to some more fortunate man. Marry, if you can feel
love—marry, and be happy. Honour! virtue! Yes, I have both, and I will
not forfeit them. Yes, I will merit your esteem and my own—by actions,
not words; and I give you the strongest proof, by tearing myself from
you at this moment. Farewell!'

'The carriage at the door, Miss Nugent, and my lady calling for you,'
said her maid. 'Here's your key, ma'am, and here's your gloves, my dear
ma'am.'

'The carriage at the door, Miss Nugent, said Lady Clonbrony's woman,
coming eagerly with parcels in her hand, as Miss Nugent passed her and
ran downstairs; 'and I don't know where I laid my lady's NUMBRELLA, for
my life—do your Anne?'

'No, indeed—but I know here's my own young lady's watch that she
has left. Bless me! I never knew her to forget anything on a journey
before.'

'Then she is going to be married, as sure as my name's Le Maistre, and
to my Lord Colambre; for he has been here this hour, to my certain Bible
knowledge. Oh, you'll see, she will be Lady Colambre?

'I wish she may, with all my heart said Anne; 'but I must run
down—they're waiting.'

'Oh no,' said Mrs. le Maistre, seizing Anne's arm, and holding her fast;
'stay—you may safely—for they're all kissing and taking leave, and all
that, you know; and my lady is talking on about Mr. Soho, and giving a
hundred directions about legs of TABLES, and so forth, I warrant—she's
always an hour after she's ready before she gets in—and I'm looking for
the NUMBRELLA. So stay, and tell me—Mrs. Petito wrote over word it was
to be Lady Isabel; and then a contradiction came—it was turned into
the youngest of the Killpatricks; and now here he's in Miss Nugent's
dressing-room to the last moment. Now, in my opinion, that am not
censorious, this does not look so pretty; but, according to my verdict,
he is only making a fool of Miss Nugent, like the rest; and his lordship
seems too like what you might call a male COCKET, or a masculine jilt.'

'No more like a masculine jilt than yourself, Mrs. le Maistre,' cried
Anne, taking fire. 'And my young lady is not a lady to be made a fool
of, I promise you; nor is my lord likely to make a fool of any woman.'

'Bless us all! that's no great praise for any young nobleman. Miss
Anne.'

'Mrs. le Maistre! Mrs. le Maistre! are you above?' cried a footman from
the bottom of the stairs; 'my lady's calling for you.'

'Very well! very well!' said sharp Mrs. le Maistre; 'very well! and
if she is—manners, sir!—Come up for one, can't you, and don't stand
bawling at the bottom of the stairs, as if one had no ears to be saved.
I'm coming as fast as I conveniently can.' Mrs. le Maistre stood in the
doorway, so as to fill it up, and prevent Anne from passing.

'Miss Anne! Miss Anne! Mrs. le Maistre!' cried another footman; 'my
lady's in the carriage, and Miss Nugent.'

'Miss Nugent!—is she?' cried Mrs. le Maistre, running downstairs,
followed by Anne. 'Now, for the world in pocket-pieces wouldn't I have
missed seeing him hand Miss Nugent in; for by that I could have judged
definitively.'

'My lord, I beg pardon!—I'm AFEARD I'm late,' said Mrs. le Maistre, as
she passed Lord Colambre, who was standing motionless in the hall. 'I
beg a thousand pardons; but I was hunting high and low, for my lady's
NUMBRELLA.'

Lord Colambre did not hear or heed her; his eyes were fixed, and they
never moved.

Lord Clonbrony was at the open carriage-door, kneeling on the step,
and receiving Lady Clonbrony's 'more last words' for Mr. Soho. The two
waiting-maids stood together on the steps.

'Look at our young lord, how he stands,' whispered Mrs. le Maistre to
Anne, 'the image of despair! And she, the picture of death!—I don't
know what to think.'