Display : a novel
Maberly, Mrs. (Catherine Charlotte), 1805-1875
■^ Wt^^^^:}^^- -jr , ^^fm-7jrj:p^^^^^r^-~ mk<^W^^Mi^M^^M^^^- -^4 Bj^iS^JIgpgSI^ i P^'^^^^fo^^^ -^^ LIBRARY ^- OF THE U N IVERSITY Of ILLINOIS 623 MII3<1 v.3 DISPLAY. A 1^0 YEL. _ BY B c r MKS. M ABE ELY. . AUTHOR OF " LEOiS^TINE," « THE LADY A]^D THE PEIEST," &c., &c. ^Tiat will this come to?"— Tmox of Athens. U THREE VOLUMES VOL. m. LONDON: HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN, 13, GREAT MAELBOROUGH STREET. 1855. PRINTED BY CHARLES BEVAN AND SON, STUEKT'S UUILDINGS, CHAPEL STREET, GROSVENOF. SQUARE, MI)3J V.3 DISPLAY CHAPTER I. It was just two days after the eventful ball, which had, as it were, formed the line of demarcation between the child-life of Genevieve and her more womanly pursuits, that, as she was sitting with her father in the drawing-room of their hotel, and deeply occupied with a drawing she had just begun, a visitor was announced, and Lord St. Clare entered the room. The surprise of Mr. Malcolm at this un- expected event was not near so great as that of Genevieve. In her close com VOL. III. B 2 DISPLAY. panionship with Lady Windermere and her friends, she had not failed to hear it de- clared over and over again that "it was a known fact that Lord St, Clare, among other peculiarities, had taken a violent dislike to all his own countrymen, and declined asso- ciating with them." And this was coupled with the most minute and exaggerated de- scription of the character, manners, and thoughts of a person of whom, in reality, they knew nothing. A bowing acquaintance was all that any one of the party could claim, and yet they did not hesitate to pro- nounce a verdict of the most extraordinary precision upon every point connected with him. One said he was mad — another that he was certainly known to be very odd, w hile a third affirmed that he was exceedingly ill- tempered, and a fourth insisted that to a positive certainty they knew that an uu- DISPLAY. 3 happy attachment was the cause of his never going out. The truth of any one of these allegations Genevieve had never thouo^ht of seekinir, for the particular quahties of Lord St. Clare were a matter of great indifference to her ; but the variety of rumours of which he was the subject had left a strong impression on her mind, and certainly not one of an agreeable nature She had, it is true, known Lord St. Clare at Florence, but that was more than two years before, and two years at the age of Genevieve made a great difference. She could not remember much about him, except that he was a tall dark man, who used to ride a beautiful black horse, which was a much greater attraction to her than the merits or graces of the owner. When she heard of his being at Baden, she neither felt glad nor sorry, and had it not been for the eternal conversation of B 2 4 DISPLAY. Lady Windermere about him, she would probably have scarcely remembered that he was an inhabitant of the same place in which she resided. As it was, however, a feeling of curiosity was mingled with the surprise she felt at his unexpected visit, and, as after the first greeting, lie sat at a little distance from her, talking to Mr. Malcolm, she ventured to take a critical survey of the man of whom she had heard so many extraordi- nary rumours. Lord St. Clare, certainly, neither looked mad, nor odd, nor ill-tempered. His figure was good and his face handsome, but not possessing the regular outline of feature which so distinguished the beauty of Mr. Malcolm and Laura. Accustomed to these almost faultless faces, Genevieve was not at first struck witli the beauty of Lord St. Clare ; but when, upon some DISPLAY. 5 slight observation on her part, he turned round and answered her with a smile, she acknowledged that there was some- thing remarkable in his look. She could not exactly define the impression they made upon her, but she felt that she could not meet the glance of those large soft eyes with the calmness with which she viewed the rest of the world. They seemed to look through her, and her own hastily sought the paper on which she was engaged. She bent her head over her drawing, in order to hide her confusion. There was, however, nothing so very terrible about Lord St. Clare. He laughed and talked very like other people, only that his voice was sweeter, and his remarks to her seemed not quite the same as those she had been accustomed to hear. He talked more of things than of people, and 6 DISPLAY. several times he said exactly what she was thinking herself. In a little while, she began to be less afraid of him, and when he came up to the table where she was sitting, and asked leave to look at her drawing, his manner was so good-natured and simple, that she began to wonder why she had thought him so dis, agreeable at first. Genevieve drew beautifully, particularly in landscape. She had a real love for the art, and had already taken several of the most striking views of the adjacent country. Lord St. Clare, who, with the same talent, had attained a much higher degree of excel- lence, carefully examined the drawing which she had committed to him, admired its beauties, which indeed were numerous, and quietly pointed out some trifling defects, all with so gentle and friendly a manner, exactly as if he had known her his whole DISPLAY. 7 life, that Genevieve soon found herself talk- ing to him nearly as gaily as she would have done to her father, and quite forgot those great eyes which had so alarmed her at first. Lord St. Clare stayed a long time, and when he was gone, all the faults he had found in her drawing were instantly cor- rected, and a very masterly performance was the result. She worked all day, in order to bring up her old castle, with the torrent rushing over the rocks at its base, to the highest possible degree of finish. She wondered whether Lord St. Clare would ever ask to see it again. But he did ilot ask, for he came again the next morning, at the very same hour ; and when Gene- vieve came into the room, she found him sitting before the easel, where the drawing, in a very forward, though still incomplete state, had remained since the day before. 8 . DISPLAY. And so it happened every day. Lord St. Clare, with the simplicity that distinguished all his actions, made no fuss about his visits. He went and came as though it had been the habit of his whole life ; but Genevieve remarked that, whenever she was joined by any one, except Laura or her father, he instantly disappeared. He rode out with her whenever he had ascer- tained that Mr. Malcolm was to be her only companion, and the careful father soon con- trived that the daily peregrinations of his daughter, to one or other of the most roman- tic spots in the neighbourhood, should not be*disturbed by any unnecessary number of attendants. With what delight did he watch the growing intimacy of Lord St. Clare with himself and Genevieve. He scarcely dared to form a hope, and much less a plan, but visions of great glory shone before his eyes. DISPLAY. y This feeling, however, was not shared by all who pretended to take a deep inte- rest in the welfare of Gene vie ve. Little as she was aware of it, before long a viru- lent jealousy towards her had sprung up in the heart of her sworn friend and protec- tress, Lady Windermere. It seemed an absurdity, but such was the fact. Genevieve — ^lonely, motherless, and unaided — was a charming object for the showy patronage of her noble Mend ; but sought for, supported by the evident admi- ration of a man in the position of Lord St. Clare, she was raised to an equality with herself, and at once became a rival ^- ceedingly to be dreaded. It did not require a very great length of time to change the heart of Lady Winder- mere towards any of her female friends. A day, an hour was enough; for the smallest appearance^ of success, except through her 10 DISPLAY. means, was an unpardonable crime. She had professed to be very anxious to do a great deal for Genevieve ; but she did not choose that she should be able to do any- thing without her. It may be imagined what a sensation the news of the first visit of Lord St. Clare to Mr. Malcolm and his daughter, excited in the somewhat worn-out coterie^ which every evening was bound to assemble round the table of the great Lady Winder- mere. At first it was hailed with delight, both by her and Mrs. Beaumont ; for they looked upon it as an undoubted omen of his iiffention of attaching himself to their party — and a great accession of consequence was therefrom joyfully anticipated; but, when day after day passed over, and no Lord St. Clare appeared, the wrath of the two friends began to grow more fierce. Of course, Genevieve had been instantly DISPLAY. 11 desired to " bring him ;" and Lady Winder- mere as fully expected to see him walk into her room as if he had been an habitual visitor ; but it was not so easy a matter ''to bring" Lord St. Clare to do anything he did not choose to do, as persons unac- quainted with his character might have sup- posed. He had duly received the invitation from the lips of the unembarrassed Genevieve, who had not yet arrived at that pitch of young ladyism which could make her sus- pect that he would think that she gave it unauthorised, or with any design of attract- ing him towards herself; but he had met it at once with a gentle, but very decided, re- fusal ; and Genevieve, who instinctively felt that, for some reason or other, the society of her friends was distasteful to him, forbore to make any inquuies as to the cause of his decision. 12 DISPLAY. Matters became worse after the next weekly ball. Lord St. Clare not only went there, but danced with Genevieve, both a waltz and quadrille ; but in vain the snowy shoulders of Mrs. Beaumont were constantly displayed close to him, he took not the slightest notice of her, except once, to say, " that the room was very hot," an observa- tion, which might have been intended as an apology for the scantiness of her clothing ; while to Lady Windermere, who was not dancing, he merely bowed. This evening, completely exhausted the small amount of endurance possessed by these two ladies, who feeling themselves thus quietly slighted, made common cause against poor Genevieve, the imaginary cause of their misfortune. Of course, nothing very open could have been at- tempted, but a series of petty annoyances and contradictions, and unmistakeable small DISPLAY. 13 words of spite, soon proved to her, that her monopoly of the attentions of Lord St. Clare, was an unpardonable offence to her married friends. Their anger could scarcely be concealed, and even Laura, who was perfectly innocent of the whole thing, was forcibly included in their displeasure. Genevieve, who did not want for intelligence in reading the hearts of those around her, was excessively an- noyed, especially as she had scarcely yet be- g-un to consider the society of Lord St. Clare so inseparable from her idea of happi- ness, as to make her dread losing it, as the worst misfortune which could befal her. This division in the camp, although studiously concealed, did not tend much to enliven the sojourn of Lady Windermere at Baden, and having exhausted all its gaieties, she began to talk seriously of arranging her plans for returning homewards. 14 DISPLAY. The announcement of her intention, appeared to be the signal of a general break up of the society which had so long held togetlier, and if it had not the effect of de- priving Genevieve of one of her admirers, was at least the means of bringing another to a decision, which had been for some time agitating his mind. Baron Eegnier, who ever since the de- parture of Count Bergensdorff, had re- doubled his assiduities towards Genevieve, having, as he considered, expended a suffi- cient number of bouquets, and danced as many waltzes and polkas, as would satisfy the most inveterate follower of Terpsichore, made his proposals in due form ; and in a very long and elaborate letter, condescended to explain to her, that it was in her power to bestow the most perfect happiness on the most imperfect of mortals, and that all he had to offer in return, was hhnsell and his DISPLAY. 1 5 auburn curls, and the possible reversion of a very small estate in iS"ormandy, provided he outlived a certain number of relations. This was the substance of the very con- fused communication which Genevieve, with a blushing cheek, laid before her father. With a smile upon his lip, and triumph on his brow, Mr. Malcolm pressed his daughter to his heart; and the laughing observation of '^ So Genevieve, here are your love affairs beginning already," did not tend much to calm the agitation which this first idea of her marriage, however unwelcome, had na- turally caused. Mr. Malcolm, however, kindly undertook to communicate her refusal to the Baron, who utterly discomfited, and quite aware of the habits of the coterie to which he be longed, did not choose to stay and expose himself to then- vulgar gossip, and with a sigh of adieu to Genevieve and his golden 16 DISPLAY. dreams, started the same evening for Paris. Another gap was thus left in the circle of Lady Windermere, but though the cause was pretty nearly divined, it was not dis- tinctly ascertained, for the Baron had never actually confided his intentions to any one, and Mr. Malcolm and Genevieve were equally discreet. The surmise of the matter was, however, sufficient for Lady Windermere. She began to look upon Genevieve in the light of a dangerous rival ; and even the long lank figure of Mr. Bolton, who always looked like a consumptive greyhound, found more than its original favour in her sight, when she considered the dangerous proximity of a being, who could thus carry off" admirers from the whole world, and that Avithout altering for a moment a smgle habit of her life. DISPLAY. 17 There must be some peculiar charm about her, . and, as Lady Windermere never acknowledged any but her own, she decided that it was the reputation of Gene- yieve's fortune that thus brought every one to her feet. Bitterly did she then regret her own exaggerated statements upon this point, but the harm was done, and there was no remedy for it. She resolved to be more cautious in future ; and confine h6r protection to those whose \vant of attrac- tions would be her safeguard against the desertion of her friends. In the meantime, her stay at Baden was drawing to a close. In another week her course of water-drinking would conclude, and if she and Mrs. Beaumont did not mean to remain there — reduced to their original adorers, Sir Henry Perceval and Mr. Bolton — they must make up their minds to depart. VOL. III. C 18 DISPLAY. Every one was going, or talking of going. Sir Aubrey Mannering, having heard from his friend, Count Bergensdorff, that his return that season to Baden was impossible, had actually fixed the day, leaving his losses, but, unfortunately ! not his evil qualities behind him. The departure of Lord Eardley, of course, would follow. There would be no one then left, except Mr. Malcolm and Genevieve, who were too much occupied with their own pursuits, to devote themselves to her. Lady Winder- mere, therefore, resolved that, at the end of the week, she would close her most unsatis- factory sojourn, and bid adieu to" Germany, and with it alas ! to all hopes of Lord St. Clare. DispjAr. 19 CHAPTER 11. With rage in his heart, Sir Aubrey pro- ceeded upon his road homewards. After many struggles, he had at length torn him- self away from Baden, for he was forced to be in England by a particular day, on ac- count of business. He had given no reason for his depar- ture, and Laura had asked for none. Sad and dispirited, she leaned back in the car- riage, and tiid not utter a word. Of what was she thinking, as her eye wandered list- lessly over the romantic beauty of the Ber- genstrasse, as they glided swiftly along ? c 2 20 DISPLAY. Was she thinking of her father and sweet sister, whom she had left behind ? of her former happy home, or her own home, still more splendid, to which she was hastening? or, more dangerous far, did her mind go back to the hours she had lately spent, with the young Lord Eardley at her side, listening, if not to words of openly awowed affection, yet to language too nearly ap- proaching them — soothing in its kindness, and fearfidly comforting to the heart that was desolate and chilled — thrown back from where it should have clung, to wander where it might ? Laura thought of none of these. At that moment, there was but one impression upon her mind — it was that of intense dislike and disgust to the being at her side — to the man whom she had sworn to honour and to love. It could scarcely be called a new feeling, for it was long since she had attempted to DISPLAY. 21 deceive herself into the idea that she could love a man so different from all that she admired ; but it was new in its intensity, for latterly her eyes had been more opened to the character of her husband, than they had ever been before. She had long despised him, as meau — she now dreaded him, as wicked. From some hints he had let fall, when goaded into desperation by his losses at play, she had become possessed of part of his secret, inasmuch as she was aware that some seri- ous disagreement either had, or was about to take place between him and Mr. Mal- colm, and that money was the cause of it. Further than this, she had not been able to discover, for, to her very natural inqui- ries, Sir Aubrey opposed a solemn silence. The little information, however, that she had gained, filled her heart with fore- bodings, for which, even to herself, she 22 DISPLAY. could not account ; but she had unfor- tunately learned, from the manner of her husband, that, when most disposed to ven- geance, he generally appeared most calm. It was, therefore, with a cold, trembling sensation that, as she sat beside him, she watched the imperturbable countenance which he contrived to maintain, and for the time her minor griefs were hushed before the overwhelming fear of danger or distress to those she loved. -. Full of these sad thoughts and myste- rious forebodings, Laura, having safely accomplished her irksome journey, which had been passed without a word ' of more than ordinary interest having been ex- changed between her and her husband, once more re-entered the gates of Mannering Park. It Avas astonishing, even to herself, to note the change which had^ taken place in DISPLAY. 2^ her feelings since last she had been there. At that time the splendour of the place, the consciousness of power and riches, had been, if not her boast, at least the source of infi- nite delight to her — for Laura was vain, and, like most people, fond of luxury and show. But, now a feeling of dire import had arisen in her breast — a feeling, not only of indifference, but of actual dislike. The very beauty of the place, and the state by which she was surrounded, had become odious to her. Of what use was all the gorgeousness around, when she had not one shilling she could call her own. The conduct of her husband to her about money, had impressed itself so indelibly upon her mind, that a feverish anxiety took possession of her every time she was in his presence. She felt as if he actually grudged her the very food she ate. Nothing seemed to her, her own. 24 DisrLAr The consequence of this state of feeling was certainly not beneficial to the interests of Sir Aubrey, for a listless indilFc^rence had taken the place of her former brilliant vivacity — her duties were neglected, and she seemed to live like a stranger in the house. That well-ordered house, however, could not be very speedily deranged, although rendered comparatively comfortless by such conduct. The indefatigable Mrs. Pringle was, as usual, at her post, and, to the in- effable disgust of Laura, as busily engaged as ever, in the prosecution of her petty economies. With what a malicious pleasure Laura took the first opportunity of imparting to her as full an account as she was abla to give, of the losses of her husband at play. It was her only pleasure to gaze upon the utter dismay with which this news was DISPLAY. 25 received ; but she also had the mortification to perceive that, after a little while, it ceased to make the same impression. Delighted to have found anything dis- agreeable to say, Laura constantly returned to the charge ; but, latterly, Mrs. Pringle had borne the attack with wonderfully- increased composure. She had ceased to take off her spectacles, and lay down her knitting, every time Lady Mannering began the history of her husband's gambling pro- pensities. She now went quietly on with her work, only answering by an occasional monosyllable. The fact was, that she had made up her mind not to believe one word of all that Laura said upon the subject. She had questioned Sir i.ubrey about it, but as he was exceedingly tenacious of his character in the country, he chose simply to deny the fact 'j and Mrs. Pringle, relieved of her 26 DISPLAY. suspicions, went tranquilly on with her knitting, collecting the scraps for Bruce's dinner as usual, and settled in her own mind that Lady Mannering had not bene- fited much by her residence abroad, since she could come back and wilfully traduce so kind and so liberal a husband. The knowledge of Sir Aubrey's passion for play was, however, not the only informa- tion which Laura had acquired lately. The impression of his harshness towards her on the subject of money, had been so vivid, that she had lost no time in making herself thoroughly well informed upon her actual rights in that respect. She had found out that not only was Sir Aubrey liable for her debts, but also that he was bound to pay her the allowance for pin-money, that had been settled upon her at her marriage. Stung by the continued perseverance of her husband in refusing her the most ordi- DISPLAY. 27 nary indulgences in the way of private ex- penses, she resolved to make one more at- tempt at some amicable adjustment of her difficulties, before proceeding to the extreme measures which she had been so unhesi- tatingly counselled to employ by her un- thinking and unprincipled friends. So many dissertations had passed upon the subject, and she had allowed it to dwell so constantly upon her mind, that it had taken complete possession of it ; and she now contemplated, with the greatest cool- ness imaginable, measures from which at first she would have shrunk with horror. The sage advice of Lady Windermere and her friends had not been thrown away. Between their society, and Sir Aubrey's mismanagement of her mind and feelings, Laura was now an altered being. Her disposition seemed to have undergone a total change. The natural impetuosity of 28 DISPLAY. her temper — formerly counterbalanced bj the goodness of her heart — had now de- generated into violence, and a spirit of reta- liation had awakened within her. The opinion of other people, so recklessly expressed, had fatally blinded her natural better judgment, and supported all the new- born evil leanings of her mind. The conti- nued repetition of the wise and lady-like expression of Mrs. Beaumont, '' I am sure, if it was me, I wouldn't live with the man one hour," eternally rang in her ears. If others, better informed and more ex- perienced than herself, thought her case so desperate, why was she to endure it in si- lence and submission? There would be cowardice, meanness, in the act. She thought of this so long, that the idea became fixed in her mind ; but the indefinite notions of what she must do, if driven to extremity, were not of any great comfort to her. DISPLAY. 29 She had no one to whom she could apply as intercessor with Sir Aubrey. Her father she had carefully avoided entangling in the dispute. Mrs. Pringle was out of the ques- tion. Indeed, the close companionship of a person she so disliked, only aggravated every uncomfortable feeling in her mind, until her sensations became perfectly un- bearable. She had endured this state of irritation some considerable time, before she made up her mind what would be her best course for relieving herself from the embarassment under which she was suffering. Her position rendered it still more difficult to bear, for her conduct she knew, could not fail to attract attention. As mistress of a large establishment, she had many duties to perform, but, to her dis- grace, they were all utterly neglected. A passive indifference had taken the place of 30 DISPLAY her former vivacity. She ceased to occupy herself about anything, the routine of the house went on as usual, visitors went and came, hut she made no eifort to overcome the state of apathy into which she had fallen. She would pass hours by herself, shut up in her own room with Blanche, her little King Charles upon her knee. It loved her, and watched her, and was happy near her, and she felt she was of no im- portance to anything else in the world. At length, after many reflections, she re- solved once more to humble herself in her own eyes, and appeal, if not to the generosity, at least to the justice of Sir Aubrey,' against the petty annoyances and inconveniences which his strict adherence to the parsi- monious rules he had laid down, every day increased. Repugnant as such a course was to her feelings, she resolved no longer to delay. DISPLAY. 31 and one morning taking advantage of the entrance of Sir Aubrey into the drawing- room, she resolved to speak to him upon the subject she had so much at heart. She was sitting, as usual, in one of the large arm-chairs by the side of the fireplace, with an open book on a table beside her, and her little dog upon her lap. It was a very wet day, and Sir Aubrey, when he came in, of course took up his position upon the heartli rug, with his back to the fire. He was dressed in his shooting jacket, and looked very cold and very gloomy, but not much more so than usual, so Laura ventured to begin ; and playing with the long silken ears of Blanche, she said, in a tone from which she endeavoured to banish all symptoms of irritation or iU- humour. ^' I wish Aubrey, if it is not too expen- sive, you would let me have a new gown — 32 DISPLAY. Mine are all quite spoiled — I have nothing left but black ones, and I don't like black when I am out of mourning." '^ I don't wonder they are spoiled," replied Sir Aubrey, looking sulkily at Blanche, ^'with that dirty dog always in your lap." " Indeed she is not dirty — poor Blanche is never dirty — She is washed regularly every morning," said Laura, gently, as with a nervous feeling, she passed her hand round the neck of the dog. '^ It is not Blanche's fault that I am condemned always to wear a black gown." ^' I don't see any hardship in wearing black," said Sir Aubrey, "and it is very economical — Mrs. Pringle always wears it." " Yes — but I am not Mrs. Pringle," said Laura, sitting erect in her chair, and with something of her former hauteur, " I wish you were anything the least like her," replied Sir Aubrey; and with this DISPLAY. 33 civil reply, he walked slowly to the window with his hands in his pockets, and began to look out at the rain, which was now SAveep- ing like a cloud across* the beautiful valley, in front of the house. The colour of Laura deepened in an instant, and, with a convulsive motion, she pressed her little dog to her breast, as she looked indignantly after the retreating form of her husband; but it seemed that his contem- plation of the rain was not very amusing, for he soon returned and resumed his position opposite the fire : Laura, who had recovered from her irritation, immediately saying — "I fear I am a great plague to you Au- brey ; but I do wish all this wrangling about money was settled — I am so very uncom- fortable." " Then, I should like to know why you can't do ]ike other women ?" said her hus- band, looking still more sulky than before. VOL. in. D 34 DISPLAY. " But that is just what I want," cried Laura, joyfully ; ^' it is all I ask. Other women have their allowances, and need not torment their husbands for every trifle. Lady Windermere told me . . . .'/ " Lady Windermere may go to the devil," said Sir Aubrey, actually growing livid with rage, ^' T don't want her to meddle in my affairs, or have anything to say to me." " I should not think she would wish it," replied Laura, sarcastically, "but," she con- tinued, in no wise daunted by the visibly in- creasing anger of her husband, " she told me, and a great many other people that I have asked, told me the same thing, that I have a positive right to my allowance for pin money, if it was settled on me at the time of our marriage — now you know it was settled, Aubrey." And Laura fixed her fine .eyes upon the face of her hearer, as if watching the effect her words might have produced. DISPLAY. 35 "Settled," repeated Sir Aubrey, musingly, but he did not add another word. "Yes, settled — it was in the marriage settlements. I remember papa telling me about it, *but I had forgotten it. I did not think you would have been so particular about money," and the voice of poor Laura trembled a little. Alas ! she could with great difficulty have imagined the train of ideas which her few words had called up. Sir Aubrey made no reply, but he stood apparently in deep thought, his hands be- hind his back, his brow bent, and his thin lips firmly compressed. It was not an ex- pression which boded any good to Laura, but to her infinite surprise, after a few minutes passed in dead silence, he resumed: "I think, after all, you are right, and that it would be better you should buy your own things; you shall, therefore, receive D 2 36 DISPLAY. your allowance of pin money, according to the settlement." " Oh, thank you, Aubrey," began Laura, joyfully, and scarcely daring to believe what she heard. "You need not thank me," replied Sir Aubrey, bitterly, " I always take care peo- ple shall have from me what they have deserved." The severe tone in which this was uttered quite destroyed all the pleasant feelings of Laura, especially when he continued — " At all events, I shall not be plagued about all the gowns you choose to spoil with your dirty dogs." This second attack upon poor Blanche, put the finishing stroke to the painful im- pression which the manner of her husband conveyed to the heart of Laura. It was strange that he should choose the moment of compliance with her request, to add ten- DISPLAY. 37 fold bitterness to the usual cold and con- temptuous demeanour he now invariably adopted towards her. She felt frozen as she sat, and could not JGind words to reply to his last observation. After waiting a considerable time, ap- parently for her answer, he resumed the conversation by saying, in a tone, somewhat as if he were speaking to a tradesman, whose honesty he suspected — " Then you understand, you are to re- ceive the arrears of your allowance until I have time to look over the settlement. Am I to understand, on my side, that you agree to this r "Yes," replied Laura, mechanically; and she could not utter another word. " My papers are in London," continued Sir Aubrey, in the same tone, " but I shall send for them. In the mean time, I will make out your account." 38 DISPLAY. " My account !'^ echoed Laura, in a low voice, and following her husband with her eyes, as with creaking shoes he stalked out of the room. DISPLAY. 39 CHAPTEE III. " My account," repeated Laura to her- self, as she once more found herself alone. " He speaks to rae as if I were a shopkeeper trying to cheat him ;" and the tei^rs, which her pride had long kept from faUing, now followed each other down her pale cheek. She leaned her head upon her hand, and wept bitterly. Alas ! was it worth while, for the odious love of gold, thus severing from its natural ties, a hsart that, with gentle care and fos- tering, might have become a treasure worthy of the most exalted love ? 40 DISPLAY. Poor Laura, as she sat weeping thus alone, in the midst of her splendour, felt, and with justice, that it was to the positive love of money in her husband, that she owed her present grief — her future danger. Had she at the first outset shown herself as mean and as parsimonious as Mrs. Pringle, she might, she doubted not, have obtained an equal influence over the man who now dared to spurn her as though she had defrauded him of his all. But Laura was no hypocrite. She had married Sir Aubrey Mannering without the slightest acquaintance with any one of his defects or vices, and upon discovering them she had never endeavoured to conform to his peculiar views, or correct the pro- pensities in herself which warred so vio- lently against them. This might be honest, but it was neither politic nor dutiful. A little forbearance on DISPLAY. 41 her part — a desire to comply with his wishes, might, perhaps, have weaned her husband from some of his most sordid ways, and increased her respect for him, if it could not command her love ; but she had shown none. She had resolutely set herself against all his pre-conceived notions upon the score of expense, and was now reaping the bitter reward of her thoughtless and selfish conduct. In the state of irritation, however, in which she was at that moment, she certainly did not look upon the matter in this point of view. The injury done to her feelings, the injustice practised against her, when compared to the lot of other women in her position, was all that she thought of — and her sorrow was very great. She had nobody in whom she could confide except those who were at a distance ; and even they did not seem to enter into her griefs with the 42 DISPLAY. warmth of affection which she felt was necessary to bring any comfort to her. Since her return home, she, of course, had kept up a very animated correspondence with her friend Lady Windermere, in which every event of her domestic Hfe was duly chronicled, for such were the habits of confi- dence in which these ladies thought it neces- sary to indulge. It struck her, however, that the letters of Lady Windermere were not of that intensely affectionate nature which she had hitherto been in the habit of receiving — and, above all, that in them was studiously avoided any very unqualified opinion as to the treat- ment by her husband, of which Laura com- plained. This reserve, on the part of so trusted a confidante, and one whose advice she had so constantly followed, was very galling to Laura. She began to take alarm, and DISPLAY. 43 fancied the whole world was against her. How she longed once more to have the company of Genevieve and her father. Even if they should not know her grief, yet their kindness would bring balm to her heart. She pined for the sweet voice of Genevieve, and her gay girlish ways — and prayed, that she might never know a lot so cheerless as her own. But Genevieve was far away. There was no chance of their coming just then, for her father had seemed so undecided in his plans, that nothing had been settled when they parted, as to when they were to meet again. Mr. Malcolm had talked of coming over for a few days, and then re- turning to Paris ; but all appeard so uncer- tain, that Laura did not even, at that mo ment, know where they were. The last letters had reported them still at Baden, from which place Lord St. Clare 44 DISPLAY. had just taken his departure for Italy, hav- ing to attend upon the steps of a widowed mother, who could not be persuaded to un- dertake the journey homewards, except un- der the guidance of her son. This was another disappointment to Laura, who had settled in her own mind, that the attentions of Lord St. Clare to Genevieve had a more serious meaning than apparently was the case. Poor Laura ! It was rather early in life to lose all hope ; but, in the excitement of her own vexations, she already began to believe that the only interest she could feel, was in the welfare and happiness of others. Her spirits daily gave way, and the prospect of increasing comfort from the readily-made promise of Sir Aubrey, did not bring with it the great accession of pleasure she had expected. It was, however, something ; and, as she DISPLAY. 45 felt that the grievance under which she had so long laboured, was about to be partially removed, the more generous qualities of her heart began again to assert their power, and she endeavoured, from gratitude, to infuse a little more life into her now listless manner, as if unwilling to show resentment for the past. There seemed, however, very little inten- tion, on the part of Sir Aubrey, to perform the promise which he had made with such apparent alacrity. He had never recurred to it, and took not the slightest notice of the amended manner of his wife, but went on hunting and shooting in the mornings, and playing at whist in the evenings with Mrs. Pringle and the Doctor, exactly as if Laura had never existed. So cutting a neglect began again to rouse the dormant fire of her nature. After several weeks passed in this manner, she 46 DISPLAY. ventured once more to remind Sir Aubrey of what he had promised her, when last she spoke to him on the subject of her allow- ance. It was also on a wet day that she preferred her second petition, for on no other did Sir Aubrey ever condescend to honour her with his presence. She met him in the hall, just going into the billiard-room, where Dr. Kadcliffe and an- other gentleman were awaiting his coming. His only answer to her application was a solemn smile ; and drawing from his pocket a thick, sealed letter, he placed it in her hand, and, turning from her, entered the room. In another instant the click of the bil- liard-balls announced his occupation. Laura, surprised beyond measure at this treatment of her request, hastened with the packet to her room, hoping that, at least, it would elucidate the mystery which seemed to hang DISPLAY. 47 over the movements of her husband. Her astonishment may be more easily conceived than described, when she perceived that the letter contained nothing but an enormous bill. It was written on long paper with ruled lines, all in the most approved fashion of such things. More and more bewildered, she turned to the end, when a large array of figures met her eye, and underneath all was written, " Balance, sixteen pounds one shilling and sixpence ;" and a little square packet was pinned by the side of the words, which, on examining, she found to contain exactly the sum specified. She was not qvite so ignorant as not to see in a moment the significance of the extraordinary document which she held in her hand. It was headed " Lady Manner- ing's expenditure of her allowance up to the present day;" and then followed the date 48 DISPLAY. of her marriage, and the day of the month in which, apparently. Sir Aubrey had drawn up this interesting statement. This, therefore, was '^ her account," which he had so ominously announced. A look of such intense dissatisfaction passed over the beautiful features of Laura, that for a momen* it completely changed and distorted her face. She pushed the paper from her with a vio- lent jerk, holding it between her finger and thumb, as if something that she loathed to touch ; and it fell upon the floor on the opposite side of the table near which she was standing. And long she stood there, stiffened — pe- trified, as it were — by the shock her feel- ings had received ; the changing colour of her cheek alone giving her a look of life. At length she raised her head ; and then came across her face another look— more like one of her old looks than any that had DISPLAY. 49 been seen upon her countenance for a long time. There was a curl upon her lip, and a light in her eye, that did not speak much of submission to her fate ; and she moved suddenly to the other side of the table, and took up the important missive from the floor. It was very long ; and, after once open- ing it, to see the number of pages it con- tained, Laura quietly drew a chair to the fire, and sat down to examine it. In a few moments, apparently, the violence of her ex- citement had passed away ; for she very leisurely stirred the fire, and drew a screen before her face ere she began to read. Had it not been a matter which might in- volve such serious consequences, it would have afibrded her considerable amusement to note the extreme ingenuity with which Sir Aubrey had contrived to fill up the ac- count so as to reduce her allowance to VOL. in. E 50 DISPLAY. nothing. Not only were all her jewellers' bills, which had fallen into his hands in Lon- don, included in it, but the name of Made- moiselle Virginie Deschamps appeared in large letters, as demanding payment for the identical articles sent by her to Baden, and which Laura had never been permitted to see. To these were added every description of expenses, all mixed up together — whole ca- talogues of things of which, of course, Laura had never thought at all. Boxes at the theatres, bills for flowers, doctors' ac- counts, post-horses for races, lady's maids' wages, saddles and bridles, dentists, painters, sweeps, glaziers, upholsterers, and a host of minor bills, all interwoven with sundry expenses for millinery, hair-dressing, and a variety of items more properly belonging to her, were set down to the account of the unfortunate Laura. " No wonder he was so long making out DISPLAY 51 his account," said Laura to herself, as she laid down the paper by her side, with a bitter and melancholy smile. And then she sat where she was, melancholy and silent. Her mind was full of miserable thoughts ; but amongst them all, one con- tinued to rise above the rest. — " Is it pos- sible that I am married to such a man ? " These were the words she repeated over and over again to herself, and they seemed to burn into her very brain. It was too true — She was married to a man, who, now that she knew his real cha- racter, she could not do otherwise than despise — a man in whom the love of money outweighed every other feeling. It was too late to retract, though all her life she might repent ; for was she not also, in some degree, to blame ? — was she entirely free from all taint of the very same fault which she so justly reprobated in her husband ? LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 52 DISPLAY. 