The heiress of Haughton; or, The mother's secret
Marsh-Caldwell, Anne, 1791-1874
% Kr. -<s THE HE-IHESS OF HAUGHTON; OR, THE MOTHER'S SECRET. BY TBDE AUTHOR OF "EMILIA WTNDHAM," "TWO OLD MEN'S TALES," &c. As gentle As zephjTs, blomng below the %'iolet, Not wagging Ms sweet head CrUBELINjE. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. n. LONDON: HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN, 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 1855. FEINTED BY CHARLES SEVAN AND 80N, STEEET'S BUn^DINGS, CHAPEL STREET, GB08VBN0B SQTTAEE. •g23 .- Z THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. 'Tis only noble to be good. Kind hearts are more than coronets, And simple faith than Norman blood. Tennyson. I WILL now pass over a few years ; and, bring- ing my party together, introduce them to you as I became first acquainted with them all, in the year 18 —. Sir John Faulconer, of Drystoke, the father of Albert, whom I have introduced to you, at VOL IL B 2 THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. the opening of this story, as the pride of Eton School, lived at a distance of about fifteen miles from Haughton-Hall. His wife, Lady Faulconer, was still living, and they had one son and two daughters. The family at Haughton-Hall had led so unsociable a life since William Aubrey and Lady Emma took possession of it, that only distant and formal visits had been exchanged with the inhabitants of Drystoke; but. Lady Faulconer, ever desirous to improve her stock of acquaintance in the right direction, had let no opportunity escape for cultivating the acquaint- ance, and we may have observed Sir John Faul- coner's carriage was by Nurse remai'ked as among those that followed her master's funeral. Noted by Nurse for two reasons — first, that she thought it a long way to come, and, therefore, a particular compliment for the car- riage to be there ; and, secondly, because the Faulconers — for no reason that I could ever exactly discover, to account for the fact — were cei'tainly very much considered in the neigh- THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. 3 bourhood. The acquaintance between the families would, however, in all probability have continued upon the old languishing terms, if it had not been for an event which took place after William Aubrey's death, and which necessarily drew them into a closer intimacy. This was nothing less than the mamage of Lord ITlick, one of Lady Emma's brothers, with a younger sister of Lady Faulconer's. We have heard nothing of the Marchioness of Hurstmonceaux, or of Lady Emma's bro- thers and sisters, since her marriage. We left them all tolerably easy and comfortable, through William Aubrey's assistance, and as they had no further concern with the story, no more was related about them. The situation of the family had been con- siderably altered since then. The Marquis was dead, and the title and estate had descended to the eldest son, who was so nearly an idiot, that his affairs \yere put into the care of Chancery ; and, except a moderate allowance to the Marchioness Dowa- B 2 4 THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. ger, and for the maintenance and establishment of the brothers and sisters, nothing was to be obtained from that quarter. The Marcliioness, therefore, had recourse to the usual expedient for making a limited income answer the demands of fashionable necessities, by going abroad, and had been for five or six years settled with her daughters at Florence. — The sons had been provided for in various ways, by the exertions of William Aubrey and other friends. Lord Ulick had followed his elder brother Algernon's profes- sion, and had entered the Navy. This, indeed, had been done some years before Lady Emma's marriage ; so that, with the interest he en- joyed, and a very competent portion of profes- sional merits, he was now captain and com- mander ; — or rather, commander, and, by cour- tesy, captain of a nice little vessel. Captain Lord Ulick Sidney came to Ports- mouth ^o be paid off. — Lady Faulconer was with ]\er children at Southsea. She was a woman that never lost an opportunity or overlooked THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. 5 an advantage ; — but she was not without her good points, any more than the rest of the world. She took care fii'st of herself, — then of those neai'est and dearest ; and when, after having done this, anytliing in the way of advantage remained to be bestowed, why then she did not, as many selfish people do, — let it fall neglected to the ground, but she began to look about, to discover whom next she could profit. She was the most active person in forwarding schemes for the interest of every one, according to these degrees of precedence that I ever met with in my life, — and yet, everybody called her selfish, and nobody liked her. Well, then, her daughters being too young for such things to be thought of; and a couple of months at a watering place, so near a ganison town and sea-port, like Portsmouth, being an advantage not to be lightly thrown away, Lady Faulconer invited one of her younger sisters to come and pass the time with 6 THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. her. There were a good many o»f these sisters, younger and older, who had lived at Bath, since the death of their father, General Boycott, upon the pensions from government, and the slender remains of the General's fortune. In vain, however, had they lived there, I am sorry to say, so far at least as the main object, settling in the world, was concerned ; — and in spite of all that Lady Faulconer (when she had time to think about them) could do, — in sending them some of her own half-worn fine dresses, bonnets, and cloaks, and lending them her numbers of the Petit Courrier des Dames, when she had done with them — the Misses Boycott remained upon hand. Therefore, as her own girls were at pre- sent too young for her to be thinking of such things as regarded them. Lady Faulconer, according to her usual system of social economy, began to consider who had best profit by the opportunity which it would be a shame and a sin to waste; and after some weighing and considering, whether it were best to endeavour THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. 7 to get the oldest and ugliest off fet — or to try the far better chance with a younger and a prettier one — she decided, that the proba- bilites of effecting the first were so small as really not to be worth striving for ; and finally, in spite of the murmurs of the rest of the sisterhood, invited the youngest and prettiest, Lucy, — really a very pretty girl, — to join her. Captain Lord Ulick Sidney, having nothing much else to do, and being in want of amusement, wandered often to Southsea, and here he fell into acquaintance with Lady Faulconer ; and the weather being fine, and he having plenty of leisure, as the saying is, he, in no very long time, fell in love with Miss Lucy Boycott. The progress from an idle inclination, to a regular passion, being completed by the well directed offices of Lady Faulconer, who was a perfect adept in such affairs, as well as in sundry others, the successful conduct of which requires that peculiar knowledge of the world, which consists in a very just appreciation of human weaknesses. 8 THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. To help a love affair over that gulph, deep and wide, which lies between a passion and a proposal, was, indeed, the triumph of skill, upon which she piqued herself. — She had succeeded in her own case ! she had succeeded in that of many others, and an unwary seaman, like Lord Ulick, was not a very difficult personage to manage. It is true, he had little or nothing but his commission, and Miss Lucy had little or nothing but her face ; but he was a noble- man's son — his sister was rich beyond calcula- tion, he was lively and good-humoured ; Lucy was accustomed to make a little go a great way ; — the connection would be an advantage to all. Sir John Faulconer would do some- thing, if Lady Emma would do something — so the marriage was brought to bear. — For Sir John Faulconer, with his usual careless good nature, and Lady Emma, with her usual gener- osity, lent their aid to make up a tolerable income, so the young people were married, and were as happy as other young people of their THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. VJ sort are, with a little establishment of their own. — There was enough for the present, and no disposition to look anxiously forward to the future. — " Guarda e passa," however, for with them, except so far as this con- nection brought the two famihes at Haughton Hall and Drystoke, into closer connection, we have little to do. In fact, it was this closer intimacy with Haughton Hall, which was the part of the affair, to which Lady Faulconer looked as her own share of the good to arise from her exertions and the allowance she had permitted, rather than persuaded, Sir John Faulconer to grant, — for he, whatever his other qualities, good or bad, might be, was liberal to a fault in all that regarded money. Lady Faulconer was provident and calcula- ting ; she settled it with herself, that there was nothing but advantage to be reaped from a family connection with Haughton Hall ; for to be allied, even somewhat remotely, with great wealth is, as times go, a very positive advan- 10 THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. tage. Moreover, Lady Emma Aubrey led so recluse a life, that one, who had a certain sort of right to intimacy, would profit by such ad- vantages almost without competition. There was no rival to be dreaded. Mrs. Birchell was gone, — and Lady Faulconer trusted, and not without reason, to her own savoir faire^ to enable her to insinuate herself into the place left vacant — of bosom friend and counsellor. Looming in the distance, were flattering visions of immense possible contingencies, — but whether or not such visions were destined to assume a more substantial form, the advan- tages to result from the friendly intercourse, which was thus to be established, were certain. It was three or four years after the death of William Aubrey, that I was first made ac- quainted with the group, in which I, since that time, have taken so much interest. Imogene's birth-day was approaching, and was to be kept, — as, by the care of Mr. Glenroy, every one of the young heiress's birth- days had been kept, since she came into possession — THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. 11 by a feast, given to the dependants, and specially to the inhabitants of Armidale, The state of the population was already very much ameliorated; and Mr. Glenroy, with a just perception of the duties he owed to them, and to her on whom they would, in course of time, descend, had persevered in the plan which you have seen he adopted from the first. He made the woman-child, young as she was, understand and participate, as far as possible, in all his views for the improvement of those dependent upon her. These were days before the advancement of the morals and condition of our manufac- turing classes was becoming the object af general interest and attention, as is — thank God for it ! — ^the case in our time. The efforts of the proprietors of the Lanark Mills, were, I believe, the first movement in tliis blessed course, and they were for many years little attended to, and little imitated upon our side the Cheviot. In Scotland, however, among the wise and benevolent, they excited 12 THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. much attention, and Mr. Glenroy was quite one to estimate the full value of the example, and deeply to feel the responsibility which lay upon one, entrusted with a charge of a somewhat similar nature — to endeavour at imitating the good work, which was there being carried out. The enthusiasm in the cause which he was enabled to awaken in the child's mind, was a rich reward for all his exertions. Hers was, as you will have seen, one of those happy natures which responds to every thing which is kind, compassionate, and good. A sense of justice the most uncompromising was the basis of a character, whose very heart was made up of tenderest pity for suffering, united to a spirit and activity in endeavouring to relieve it, with which tempers so soft and sympathising, are not always gifted. The child could never be made to understand why conditions should be so unequally cast. — She seemed ashamed of the possession of her own great wealth, and of all the luxury wliich surrounded her, and painfully contrasted it THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. 13 with the condition of those inhabitants of that black, dreary Armidale, which to her, possess- ing such hvelv enthusiasm for natural beauty, appeared so gloomy and dreary a wilderness. In her to whom the sight of a knot of primroses under the bursting green of a hawthorn hedge, dripping with the dew of a May morning, was rapture — these dark and barren hills — these stunted bushes, perishing in the sooty fumes which defiled the air — these long, long rows of blackened houses, unrelieved by the slightest approach to the picturesque — the wretched and barren aspect of all things, excited a mingled feeling of intense compassion and repulsive horror. She would have hated going there, would have shunned the sight so distressing to her, had not Mr. Glenroy laid hold of that young mind, and taken the way to guide and bend it in the proper direction. He spoke to this cliild from the first, as if she had been no longer a child. He appealed to that sense of duty and natural justice, which lies, I believe. 14 THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. in all human hearts, however much it may be overlaid or distorted, — but which was in her so remarkably strong. He taught her that the difference in ranks and conditions was a dis- pensation of God, the reasons of which she was too young in the least to comprehend — but that one thing she could understand, as well as any grown person, and that was, that God expected every one to do their duty in the state of life to which it had pleased him to call them. He told her that she was not put there merely to enjoy the fine things with which she was surrounded, but to do good. That to every one, a task in which pain and difficulty had a share was allotted ; — that if the chil- dren of Armidale had to bear many hardships, pains, and privations, she had her share appor- tioned, too. And that her «hare was the pain of witnessing distress, that she might relieve it. — That it was her duty to leave — -and very frequently, too — those sweet walks and shrub- beries, in which she loved to wander and play with Eugene, in order to pass lier time in THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. 15 these smoky, dirty places she hated, in com- pany with himself or Mr. Elmsley (of whom more hereafter), not only that she might know herself what want, and misery, and dirt, and naughtiness were, and how best to relieve them, but because it did these people a great deal of good, merely to see her come. The reason of much of this she might be too young to understand, but she must take it on trust from him, who was so much older, and had seen so much more than herself, and she must do it You do not think such simple reasoning was thrown away upon the child. The heart of Mr. Glenroy throbbed with pleasure, and his countenance quite glowed, when he marked the readiness, the warmth approaching to enthusiasm, mth which the little creature responded to every word. But her greatest joy was the annual school- feast — ^for the annual school-feast was given at Haughton Hall, in a large and beautiful mea- dow at the foot of the hill, round which the 16 THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. noble woods came feathering down; and above which the noble mansion, and its rich planta- tions, towered. It was- crossed by a shallow, pebbly trout stream, which emptied itself into the lake which, at one end, terminated the meadow. Here her love of beauty, all her imagina- tions, and rich childish fancies, and all her kind and generous sympathies were gratified at once. She was queen of the day; but it was no vain pride that made her eyes so bright, the colour of her cheek so fair, and her step so gladsome and elastic. Not one touch of pride or vanity ever stained that honest heart. No, it was simply the generous delight in being the conscious spring of all this happiness — that gave her such intense pleasure. If the feel- ing were partial and blameworthy, that was the extent of her imperfections. But enough of this general description ; I am now about to relate my own adventures, feelings, and observations, upon occasion of the first visit I made to Haughton Hall. THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. 17 Albert Faulconer, and I, John Lenham, happened to be at a preparatory school to- gether, which we had both quitted about two years before, for Eton. I do not think there would have been any very strong liking, upon Albert's side, for the slow, sapping Lenham, if it had not been for the violent fancy I took to him. I was a boy of few affections, excessively fas- tidious myself; though under an appearance so quiet and slow, that few guessed the nicety, shall I call it, of my perceptions, or the very great difficulty I found in liking anybody at all. It seemed as if I possessed a sort of perverse moral microscope in my mind, and that defects were magnified by it, till slight blemishes assumed the aspect of insufferable deformities. Everybody seemed to have such hig faults. Pity, you will say, the microscope was not turned inwards — perhaps it might be so at times, for I do not think I liked myself much better than I liked other people. One or two excep- tions, however, to this general disgust, I found; V^OL. II, c 18 THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. and Albert Faulconer was the most distin- guished of them. My devotion to him was in proportion to its exclusiveness. No boy with an atom of heart could resist such partiality; and coming, as it did, from the sullen, cold, reserved Lenham, he was probably the more flattered, as well as touched ; — ^briefly, I was admitted among his friends, frequently invited to visit him at his father's house, and this par- ticular summer had been asked to spend the Midsummer holidays with him, and accom- pany the party from Drystoke to the fete at Haughton Hall. I was but too happy to accept the invita- tion. I loved to be with Albert, better than any other enjoyment in the world. Drystoke, his father's place, I delighted in; for my father, though a very wealthy man, was a Bristol merchant, and we passed much of our time in that city, or its very near neighbour- hood, which, in spite of its beauty, was too much be-built and be-peopled for my taste. I always received a most cordial welcome from THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. 19 Lady Faulconer, who seemed never better pleased than when she saw her eldest daughter and myself engaged at chess together — the only game I much affected. I thought it very good natured of Miss Faulconer to bore herself in order to amuse me, and very polite of her mother to encourage her so to do. In short, I was always happy at the Faul- coners, where I met with all sort of kind attentions. c 2 20 THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. CHAPTER II. She, Dryad like, shall wear Alternate leaf and acorn fall In wreath about her hair. Tennyson. I WAS a quiet-tempered boy, as I said, but I had my own amusement, and one of the greatest was, the observing the play of the cha- racters about me ; — which play was, in truth, exposed to my observation, in a manner so careless, that with, I hope, the gi'eatest abhorrence for anything like an improper curiosity, it was impossible for me to avoid seeing a great deal of what was going on. The family at Drystoke, consisted, as I think THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. 21 I have said, of Sir John and Lady Faulconer, one son, and two daughters. The eldest daughter, Charlotte, being the eldest of the family, and her sister Laura, the youngest ; my friend Albert coming between them. Sir John Faulconer was a gay, careless- tempered man of the world, or rather had been a man of the world, for he now lived almost en- tirely at Drystoke, spending his time in visiting, dawdling, and hunting, and more than enough of his money, — which, go where he would, or do what he would, he always continued to do. Of Lady Faulconer I have already spoken ; of Charlotte, the eldest daughter, I will only say, that she was more sensible than sweet- tempered ; of Laura, the youngest, that she was extremely pretty ; for the rest, they shall speak for themselves. Lord and Lady Ulick Sidney, were at this time, staying at Drystoke, and their proceedings, and Lady Faulconer's proceedings, with regard to them, were amusing enough. 22 THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. I was a studious boy, and a devourer of books, of all descriptions ; and, in the old de- serted library at Drystoke, I found plenty of food for my curiosity ; I loved to rummage among the old volumes, and Lady Faulconer allowed me to bring into the drawing-room, any that I wished regularly to peruse, as this library, in general neglect as a reading-room, had become a sort of general business room for the whole house. Here, Lady Faulconer gave audience to her housekeeper, and Sir John to his steward or groom — ^here the young ladies took their lessons in dancing, and German, &c., &c. — so that I was driven, perforce, to make my sitting-room the drawing-room, which was, indeed, the general rendezvous. It was the day before we were engaged to Haughton Hall, I was employed in copying a portrait for Lady Faulconer — for, to the other accomplishments, I added that of being a very tolerable draughtsman and colourist; — this was a portrait of Lord Ulick, painted for Lady THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. 23 Ulick, of which Lady Faulconer begged to have a copy. I was placed at the table on the large bay- window — oriel, I ought, perhaps, to call it, — which commanded a view of the grounds belong- ing to dear, enchanting, Dry stoke, — all my materials were about, and Charlotte, seated not very far from me, was engaged in preparing a drawing for her master, when Lady Faulconer came in, and without seeming to notice my presence, took a chair by the table. — She looked somewhat annoyed. " Charlotte, your father says he shall not go to Haughton to-morrow.'^ — Charlotte just lifted up her head from her occupation, and only answered by an indifferent —^' Well !"— " It vexes me," said her mother, " because of the everlasting bother about the horses." — " What about the horses?" asked Charlotte, dabbling her brush in the glass — "We shall have the large britschka and four, of course." 24 THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. ^'Not of course, at all, as your father is not going himself, — you know he detests slow travelling — but any creep-mouse pace is good enough for women, you understand ; however, I do not think it either convenable, or proper, that we should appear at Haughton Hall, upon such an occasion, with a wretched pair of posters, di^agging themselves to death, up that tremendous hill. — Why laill people pitch their houses in such places ? They ought to have one of their own windlasses from Armidale, to haul one up." " But why won't papa go ?" ^^ Oh ! its hunting morning, and the meet is at Cloverly, and he says excellent sport is expected, and the ftillest field of the year, and everybody will be there, and he don't choose to be absent, only for the pleasure of seeing a parcel of dirty colliers munch roast beef, and plumb pudding, — and hurrah, and so on." He's right enough there, for, as regards that, its a horrible bore — as all these fine philan- thropic proceedings, in my opinion, are — and THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. 25 worse, too, if one dare to speak out, but; revmons a nos moutons — drag up that hill with a pair of posters, and come to the door with the poor beasts looking ready to expire, — to be the laughing stock of the servants' hall at Haughton, — and I must say, I think Lady Emma's butler the most intoler- able piece of plate-cleaning arrogance, I ever saw — ^is what I won't do, — but your father is inexorable. — He says we are spending too much already — as if such candle-end savings were of any consequence, — drops in the ocean! I wish he would look to his hunting stables ; but I will tell you what I have been planning, Charlotte. — The UHcks intend, of course, to go in their own carriage, and they must have posters, having no horses of their own — nor chance of any, this many a long day, bless 'em. — So I think to propose that we should, all go together. — The open carriage, you know, will be so much pleasanter for Lucy and Lord Ulick, than a stifling chariot — and then they can put their posters to our horses, as leaders." 26 THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. "We shall be horridly crowded," interrupted Charlotte — "and, for my part, I think nothing so bad as a family machine loaded in and out as fiill as it can stuff.'' " There^ give me leave to to tell you, you are quite mistaken ; with four horses you may put who you please in, and all right — with a pair, more than two are almost inadmissi- ble." " I don't think so." " Only imagine us dragging up the hill at Haughton, with a pair ! — ^how shall you like that?" " I wish papa was not always so unreason- able." " There is no use wishing — I know where he has planted himself ; and its mere waste of power to attempt to move him, then. — My plan is the only one possible." " Why I how many shall we be ? " " Not such a dreadful number, — most of you are children — you are but a child yourself, Charlotte. I should put Lord Ulick and THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. 27 Albert on the box, — Lenbam, Laura, and yourself, may sit in the back seat — Lady Ulick and I, in our proper places. — As your father does not go, we shall want only Lord Ulick's man-servant and my maid — they can go in the dickey behind ; — and your Aunt Ulick's maid may find her way by coach." " I'm sure Aunt Ulick won't like that." "Well, my maid, then — ^but that will be very inconvenient to me^ " Well," said Charlotte, resuming her pamt- ing — " I think it is a horrid scheme — crowding and bothering." " Suggest a better, then." To which reasonable demand, Charlotte, like many another frondeur, had no very ready reply, so she went on with her drawing, and said nothing, — and Lady Faulconer presently left the room. " I am afraid I shall be in the way," I said to Charlotte. "I am just the one too many for the scheme — Pray have the kindness to step after Lady Faulconer, and tell her that I 28 THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. will either give up going altogether, or find my own way in the coach." "Oh, dear! don't think of such a thing; I am certain mamma would never hear of you're not going with us — only she has such a way of blurting out things at the wrong time — ^but she would be quite hurt, if you were to make any difficulty/' I did not think the fault of blurting out things at the wrong time, was exactly the one to be charged upon Lady Faulconer. I rather imagined this blurting out, as Charlotte called it, as I had once or twice suspected before, was a little stroke of policy, which, under the mask of a certain want of caution, let out, as if inadvertently, what she wished to make known. Charlotte, however, proved to be right, so far as her mother's wishes about my place in the carriage were concerned ; for when, upon the first opportunity, I mentioned the subject to Lady Faulconer, she would not hear of any other plan, and showed so much vexation at THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. 29 the idea, that I was forced at once to aban- don it. Albert laughed loud when he heard of the intended arrangement. ''As if Aunt Ulick would not like to go majestically in her own spick and span new carriage," cried he — '' No — ^my mother will never persuade her to come into that scheme." But he said no more. He was an exception to the evil habit which prevailed in this, as it does in so many other families — and which is so fatal to real harmony and sincere affection; — he never criticised the sayings and doings of his relations, behind their backs. He fearlessly spoke out, when he thought anything amiss, but only to the individual concerned, — and then only when he thought he was bound to interfere. He adhered, from a sort of native delicacy and honour, to Wesley's golden rule, which he had certainly never heard of — never to speak of the faults of our neighbours — or if we think it our duty to mention them, to let it be before their faces. 30 THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. I was a silent and amused spectator of Lady Faulconer*s method of effecting her object. I was sitting readmg upon one side of the same large oriel window of the drawing-room, the leaves of which were all thrown wide open, and Lady Faulconer and Lady Ulick were lounging upon a settee on the opposite side of it. " How dreadfully hot it is, Lady Ulick ! — ^not a breeze stirring — I hope to heaven it will not be so stifling to-morrow — or the sight of the ox, roasted whole, will make one faint.^' Lady Ulick — (who, since her accession of dig- nity, had changed the somewhat pert affecta- tion of a second-rate beauty for what she thought the languid elegance of a true member of the aristocracy) — Dear me, no — really, it makes one quite ill. — ^What shall you go in, Lucy? — A silk dress will be insupport- able ; — I was thinking of that muslin with the worked flounces and pink ribbons, you know : — I am sure I shall die of heat — and an THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. 31 OX roasted whole! — what a beastly sight; — how can they think of it ! Lady Faulconer — Oh, I don't mean literally that — for I know nothing about it. I never was at one of these doings before — It's because we are all one family, I believe, that they have us now — One or two very near and very inoffensive neighbours is all Lady Emma admits. — She is a strange creature ! — I wonder how you get on with her, Lucy ! Lady TJlick (affectedly) — Oh, we get on vastly well, together, I assure you — I think she takes to me — something about me seems to suit her — I am sure I can't guess what it is, for I am afraid I am a horrid, stupid creature ! Lady Faulconer (laughing) — Don't fish for compliments — I never let them be angled out of me ; but one thing I will say, and no one can gainsay me — Lady Ulick is a very pretty creature, indeed, when she looks her best, and doesn't get that provoking flush upon her face, from being overheated, which it vexes me sadly 32 THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. to see. I wish the weather would be a little cooler — Lord Ulick will be sadly mortified if you don't look your best upon this sort of occasion. There is Mr. Glenroy to be there — the monstrous rich Scotchman, who is as proud as if he were Duke of Argyle, and as biting as if he were the Edinburgh Review in person. Lady Ulick — Oh, goodness me ! — I shall be so frightened, I am sure — dear me ! I wish I wasn't so dreadfully shy — I shan't be able to look up. Lady Faulconer — Never mind whether you look up or not — only look pretty — ^that's the main thing. Lady Ulick — But this horrid heat — and I do flush so Lady Faidconer — Of course you'll go with your carriage open ? — Nothing heats one's face like sitting in a close carriage. Lady Ulick — Open ! — but it won't open Lady Faulconer — Won't it, really — I had THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. 33 quite forgotten — that is really provok- ing Lady JJlick — ^Isn't it — I wish Lady Emma had thought of that when she bought it for us. Lady Faulconer — Oh! dear Lady Emma! — She's a sweet woman, to be sure — and there was something particularly kind in her giving you a carriage. Many people might have thought, that, in your position, it was rather a superfluity — relations, in general, are so fond of keeping one down ; but, I dare say, it never struck her how mucli nicer a landaulet would have been than a chariot — or — chariots are made to open now, but they are more expensive, so; — and dear Lady Emma, with all her generosity, never loses sight of the main chance, I am told — making a purse out of her income. I wish it may be for Lord U lick, I am sure, but I hope he don't count upon it. Poor Lady Emma ! — Well, she's a dear, sweet creature, there's no doubt about that! — but I quite hate the thought of your poking your- self into that horrid close carriage — you'll VOL. II. D 34 THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. come out of it as if you had been in the oven ; you'd better put one of the boys in and come with me. Lody TJlick (with dignity) — I like to go in my own carriage. Lady Faulconer (laughing, with much ap- pearance of good humour) — Oh, to be sure ! When one has an own carriage for the first time in one's life, one does love to ride in it, even if one should come out as red as a full-blown peony. Lady Ulick — But you don't really . .. Lady Faulconer — But / do really — But what matters that — it shall ride in its own coach, shan't it ?" Lady Ulick (scornfully) — As if /cared. Lady Faulconer — Why, you don't really believe I think you so silly as to care — Caring how you look is one thing upon such an occa- sion— it is a matter of importance — Caring whether Lady Emma s footman, John, and her page. Kit, see you get out of your carriage or mine, is really a matter beneath contempt^ — THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. 35 and they, depend upon it, will be the only people in the secret. Lady Emma will never know, or care to know — ^but she will care that her brother's bride, by her appearance, should justify his choice, especially to Mr. Glenroy, the proudest man in all Scotland. LadyUlich — Well, if you would be so kind — but I shall crowd you. LaclyFaulconer — ^TVTiyto be sure — ^but never mind that — I am sure the gii'ls won't — and you know I shall not — The only difficulty is the weight. — Sir John is in his economics to- day, and won't allow us four horses. We shall creep along at a snail's pace. — Stay — let me see — one, two, three, four — I have it — you shall put your posters to my carriage, which is light for its size— we shall fly like the wind, — the fresh air will blow upon us deliciously, as it does when one goes fast, and we shall come in fresh and sweet as roses. Lady TJUck — Dear sister — you are so kind. Lady Faulconer (kissing her) — Don't men- tion it, my sweet bird — it's only that I look d2 36 THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. upon you as my eldest daughter, and have a mother's anxiety about your first appearance upon these boards. Lady Ulick — But the servants — LadyFaulconer — Oh, we'll manage that — I will do without a footman — ^Lord Ulick's man and your maid, will go upon the dickey behind. — You know we have one which we put on when we drive four — as for Carnaby, my maid,- she must go by coach — she won't like it, poor thing, but she must submit. Lady Ulick — I'm sure Wilson would rather throw up her place, than not travel with me. Lady Faulconer — When you have been used a little longer to the possession of a maid, they won't venture to be such very great bodies — but really, dear, I think this is the best plan for you. Lady Ulick — Yes,* I suppose so — but I think I must ask Lord Uhck. Lady Faulconer — Oh ! by all means — good little dear ! — Don't venture to go in sister's carriage, without husband's leave. THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. 37 Lady Ulick — He never refuses me any- thing— but I think he ought to be asked about it. Lady Faulconer (recollecting herself) — Seriously, my dear, I think you a thousand times right — so pray, find him, and ask him — Don't say anything, however, about your fear of crowding us — ^for I assure you, we shall not think a moment of that — only tell him your natural fears for your face breaking out into red — he will, I am sure, be of your opinion. And so he was, or rather of no opinion all. He had rather set his heart, it seemed, upon going in his own brougham, with his own servants, and his own wife ; but, with a sea- man's easy good-nature, he readily gave way. He was, moreover, certainly as anxious, as it was his nature to be about anything, that his wife should look her best of beauty on the en- suing occasion. So all was settled, as the presiding genius of the party intended, and the following morning we set out in the large britschka, with four horses, — Lord Ulick" and 38 THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. Albert upon the box, the two ladies occu- pying the front seat of the carriage ; and I, with ray fair young friends, with our backs to the horses. We travelled at a good speed, and the air blew fresh in the faces of those who sat opposite to us, though we in front were stifling. Ladies Ulick and Faulconer ex- changed congratulations upon this charming coolness and freshness. The conversation, as we journeyed along, amused, though it irritated me ; and I could not help listening, comfortably leaning back in my corner of the carriage, in spite of Miss Charlotte's attempts to engage in a whispering conversation on our own side. I hate talking in a carriage ; I prefer listen- ing to speaking upon most occasions, but especially there. The discourse ran, as usual, upon the de- linquencies of neighbours. It is a strange THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTQN. 39 tk, I think, more peculiarly belonging to our English nation, that criticism almost invariably assumes the character of censure. We seem to regard the detection of blemishes as the only criterion of a just discernment into cha- racter, or appreciation in the arts — that higher walk of criticism of which, Madam de Stael has left us so beautiful a specimen in her book upon Germany, and which belongs to the finest and most delicate of our perceptions — namely, the pointing out those hidden beau- ties which escape the eye of the many, a process by which the general taste is essen- tially refined and elevated, we seem not to appreciate. We forget that in most human characters, as in most human performances, the defects necessarily attendant upon all mortal things lie mostly upon the surface — apparent to any one ; to point out the beauties, most often requu^es a finer power of discrimination. Some of these, indeed, are obvious, and escape no one ; but a thousand hidden charms and 40 THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. graces are to be discovered in the characters of men, as well as in the works of genius, unobserved by those who are too dull of com- prehension to perceive their existence, or too indifferent to beauty to search them out. The anatomist discerns all the fine hidden relations, adaptations, and perfections, of the bodily frame — the botanist dives into the sweet recesses of nature, and finds a beauty of system and plan, which escapes even the loving poet — and, yet, the poet! what delights he discovers and displays to our imagination ! which other- wise were lost to the observer. It is his part to clear the eye of the mind, and teach us how to see, and adore, and love; and it ought to be the part of a just, discriminating criticism, to aid the generous task. But enough of this. I wish, at least, I could see more of the spirit I am describing, when people are discussing their neighbours ; and that one could now and then hear a little word put in about the merits, as well as the demerits, of individuals. THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. 41 In this way, however, things certainly did not go on in the carriage where I was sitting. The talk was at first of one person, then another, whose names, even, were strangers to me, but at last I began to be interested. The inhabitants of Haughton Hall were brought upon the carpet, and the conversation thus going on, which, for brevity and convenience sake, I shall arrange in the play-making fashion. Lady Faulconer — I wonder how you'll get on there ? Lady UUck — Oh! I shall do very well with Ulick's help. Lady Emma seems good- natured enough. Lady Faulconer — Yes, so I believe — ^but it is so disagreeable to have to deal with odd people — and she is so monstrously original. 