Not daring to go on without her troublesome little charge, the approach of a carriage made her hasten to a garden-seat, upon which, though she could not be hidden, she might be less conspicuous.
The carriage, familiar to her from having frequently seen it at Miss Matson’s, was that of Sir Jaspar Herrington. Not satisfied, though she had no right to be angry, at the so measured politeness which he had shewn her the preceding day, when further notice would have softened her mortifying embarrassment, she was glad that he had not remarked her in passing.
She heard him enquire for Mrs Ireton’s party, which he had promised to join; but, affrighted at the sound of the citadel, he said that he would alight, and wait upon some warm seat in the grounds.
In descending from his chaise, one of his crutches fell, and a bonbonniere, of which the contents were dispersed upon the ground, slipt from the hand of his valet. It was then, and not without chagrin, that Juliet began further to comprehend the defects of a character which she had thought an entire composition of philanthropy and courtesy. He reviled rather than scolded the servant to whom the accident had happened; and treated the circumstances as an event of the first importance. He cast an equal share of blame, and with added sharpness, upon the postilion, for not having advanced an inch nearer to the stone-steps; and uttered invectives even virulent against the groom, that he had not come forward to help. Angry, because vexed, with all around, he used as little moderation in his wrath, as reason in his reproaches.
How superficially, thought Juliet, can we judge of dispositions, where nothing is seen but what is meant to be shewn! where nothing is pronounced but what is prepared for being heard! Had I fixed my opinion of this gentleman only upon what he intended that I should witness, I should have concluded that he had as much urbanity of humour as of manners. I could never have imagined, that the most trifling of accidents could, in a moment, destroy the whole harmony of his temper!
In the midst of the choleric harangue of the Baronet, against which no one ventured to remonstrate, the little dogs came sporting before him; and, recollecting Bijou, he hastily turned his head towards the person upon the garden-seat, whom he had passed without any attention, and discerned Juliet.
He hobbled towards her without delay, warmly expressing his delight at so auspicious a meeting: but the air and look, reserved and grave, with which, involuntarily, she heard him, brought to his consciousness, what the pleasure of her sight had driven from it, his enraged attack upon his servants; which she must unavoidably have witnessed, and of which her countenance shewed her opinion.
He stood some moments silent, leaning upon his crutches, and palpably disconcerted. Then, shrugging his shoulders, with a half smile, but a piteous look, ‘Many,’ he cried, ‘are the tricks which my quaint little imps have played me! many, the quirks and villainous wiles I owe them!—but never yet, with all the ingenuity of their malice, have they put me to shame and confusion such as this!’
Rising to be gone, yet sorry for him, and softened, the disapprobation of Juliet was mingled with a concern, from her disposition to like him, that made its expression, in the eyes of her old admirer, seem something nearly divine. He looked at her with reverence and with regret, but made no attempt to prevent her departure. To separate, however, the dogs, or induce the spaniel to go further, she still found impossible; and, not daring to abandon Bijou, was fain quietly to seat herself again, upon a garden-chair, nearer to the house.
Sir Jaspar, for some minutes, remained, pensively, upon the spot where she had left him; then, again shrugging his shoulders, as if bemoaning his ill luck, and again hobbling after her, ‘There is nothing,’ he cried, ‘that makes a man look so small, as a sudden self-conviction that he merits ridicule or disgrace! what intemperance would be averted, could we believe ourselves always,—not only from above, but by one another, overhead! Don’t take an aversion to me, however! nor suppose me worse than I am; nor worse than the herd of mankind. You have but seen an old bachelor in his true colours! Not with the gay tints, not with the spruce smiles, not with the gallant bows, the courteous homage, the flowery flourishes, with which he makes himself up for shew; but with the grim colouring of factious age, and suspicious egotism!’
The countenance of Juliet shewing her now to be shocked that she had given rise to these apologies, that of Sir Jaspar brightened; and, dragging a chair to her side, ‘I came hither,’ he cried, ‘in the fair hope to seize one of those happy moments, that the fates, now and then, accord to favoured mortals, for holding interesting and dulcet discourse, with the most fascinating enchantress that a long life, filled up with fastidious, perhaps fantastic researches after female excellence, has cast in my way. Would not one have thought twas some indulgent sylph that directed me? that inspired me with the idea, and then seconded the inspiration, by contriving that my arrival should take place at the critical instant, when that syren was to be found alone? Who could have suspected ’twas but the envious stratagem of some imp of darkness and spite, devised purely to expose a poor antiquated soul, with all his infirmities, physical and moral, to your contempt and antipathy?’
Peering now under her hat, his penetrating eyes discerned so entire a change in his favour, that he completely recovered his pleasantry, his quaint archness, and his gallantry.
‘If betrayed,’ he continued, ‘by these perfidious elves, where may a poor forlorn solitary wight, such as I am, find a counsellor? He has no bosom friend, like the happy mortal, whose kindly star has guided him to seek, in lively, all-attractive youth, an equal partner for melancholy, all revolting age! He has no rising progeny, that, inheritors of his interests, naturally share his difficulties. He has nothing at hand but mercenary dependents. Nothing at heart but jealous suspicion of others, or secret repining for himself! Such, fair censurer! such is the natural state of that unnatural character, an old bachelor! How, then, when not upon his guard, or, in other words, when not urged by some outward object, some passing pleasure, or some fairy hope,—how,—tell me, in the candour of your gentle conscience! how can you expect from so decrepit and unwilling a hermit, the spontaneous benevolence of youth?’
‘But what is it I have said, Sir,’ cried Juliet smiling, ‘that makes you denounce me as a censurer?’
‘What is it you have said? ask, rather, what is it you have not said, with those eyes that speak with an eloquence that a thousand tongues might emulate in vain? They administered to me a lesson so severe, because just, that, had not a little pity, which just now beamed from them, revived me, the malignant goblins, who delight in drawing me into these scrapes, might have paid for their sport by losing their prey! But what invidious little devils ensnare me even now, into this superannuated folly, of prating about so worn out an old subject, when I meant only to name a being bright, blooming, and juvenile—’
The recollection of his nearly complete neglect, the preceding day, in presence of Mrs Ireton, and her society, again began to cloud the countenance of Juliet, as she listened to compliments thus reserved for private delivery. Sir Jaspar soon penetrated into what passed in her mind, and, yet again shrugging his shoulders, and resuming the sorrowful air of a self-convicted culprit, ‘Alas!’ he cried, ‘under what pitiful star did I first begin limping upon this nether sphere? And what foul fiend is it, that, taking upon him the name of worldly cunning, has fashioned my conduct, since here I have been hopping and hobbling? I burned, yesterday, with desire to make public my admiration of the fair flower, that I saw nearly trampled under foot; and I should have considered as the most propitious moment of my life, that in which I had raised its drooping head, by withering, with a blast, all the sickly, noxious surrounding weeds: but those little devils, that never leave me quiet, kept twitching and tweaking me every instant, with representations of prudence and procrastination; with the danger of exciting observation; and the better judgement of obtaining a little private discourse, previous to any public display.’
Not able to divine to what this might be the intended prelude, Juliet was silent. Sir Jaspar, after some hesitation, continued.
‘In that motley assembly, you had two antique friends, equally cordial, and almost equally admiring and desirous to serve you; but by different means,—perhaps with different views! one of them, stimulated by the little fairy elves, that alternately enlighten and mislead him, not seeing yet his way, and embarrassed in his choice of measures, was lying in wait, cautiously to avail himself of the first favourable moment, for soliciting your fair leave to dub himself your knight-errant; the other, urged solely, perhaps, by good-nature and humanity, with an happy absence of mind, that precludes circumspection; coming forward in your defence, and for your honour, with unsuspecting, unfearing, untemporising zeal. Alas! in my conscience, which these tormenting little imps are for ever goading on, to inflict upon me some disagreeable compliment, I cannot, all simple as he is, but blush to view the intrinsic superiority of the unsophisticated man of nature, over the artificial man of the world! How much more truly a male character.’
Looking at her then with examining earnestness, ‘To which of these antediluvian wights,’ he continued, ‘you will commit the gauntlet, that must be flung in your defence, I know not; either of us,—alas!—might be your great grandfather! But, helpless old captives as we are in your chains, we each feel a most sincere, nay, inordinate desire, to break those fetters with which, at this moment, you seem yourself to be shackled. And for this I am not wholly without a scheme, though it is one that demands a little previous parleying.’
Juliet positively declined his services; but gratefully acknowledged those from which she had already, though involuntarily, profited.
‘You cannot, surely,’ he cried, ‘have a predilection for your present species of existence? and, least of all, under the galling yoke of this spirit-breaking dame, into whose ungentle power I cannot see you fallen without losing sleep, appetite, and pleasure. How may I conjure you into better hands? How release you from such bondage? And yet, this pale, withered, stiff, meagre hag, so odious, so tyrannical, so irascible, but a few years,—in my calculation!—but a few years since,—had all the enchantment of blithe, blooming loveliness! You, who see her only in her decline, can never believe it; but she was eminently fair, gay, and charming!’
Juliet looked at him, astonished.
‘Her story,’ he continued, ‘already envelopes the memoirs of a Beauty, in her four stages of existence. During childhood, indulged, in every wish; admired where she should have been chidden, caressed where she should have been corrected; coaxed into pettishness, and spoilt into tyranny. In youth, adored, followed, and applauded till, involuntarily, rather than vainly, she believed herself a goddess. In maturity,—ah! there’s the test of sense and temper in the waning beauty!—in maturity, shocked and amazed to see herself supplanted by the rising bloomers; to find that she might be forgotten, or left out, if not assiduous herself to come forward; to be consulted only upon grave and dull matters, out of the reach of her knowledge and resources; alternately mortified by involuntary negligence, and affronted by reverential respect! Such has been her maturity; such, amongst faded beauties, is the maturity of thousands. In old age,—if a lady may be ever supposed to suffer the little loves and graces to leave her so woefully in the lurch, as to permit her to know such a state;—in old age, without stores to amuse, or powers to instruct, though with a full persuasion that she is endowed with wit, because she cuts, wounds, and slashes from unbridled, though pent-up resentment, at her loss of adorers; and from a certain perverseness, rather than quickness of parts, that gifts her with the sublime art of ingeniously tormenting; with no consciousness of her own infirmities, or patience for those of others; she is dreaded by the gay, despised by the wise, pitied by the good, and shunned by all.’
Then, looking at Juliet with a strong expression of surprise, ‘What Will o’the Wisp,’ he cried, ‘has misled you into this briery thicket of brambles, nettles, and thorns? where you cannot open your mouth but you must be scratched; nor your ears, but you must be wounded; nor stir a word but you must be pricked and worried? How is it that, with the most elegant ideas, the most just perceptions upon every subject that presents itself, you have a taste so whimsical?’
‘A taste? Can you, then, Sir, believe a fate like mine to have any connexion with choice?’
‘What would you have me believe, fair ?nigma? Tell me, and I will fashion my credulity to your commands. But I only hear of you with Mrs Maple; I only see you with Mrs Ireton! Mrs Maple, having weaker parts, may have less power, scientifically, to torment than Mrs Ireton; but nature has been as active in personifying ill will with the one, as art in embellishing spite with the other. They are equally egotists, equally wrapt up in themselves, and convinced that self alone is worth living for in this nether world. What a fate! To pass from Maple to Ireton, was to fall from Scylla to Charybdis!’
The blush of Juliet manifested extreme confusion, to see herself represented, even though it might be in sport, as a professional parasite. Reading, with concern, in her countenance, the pain which he had caused her, he exclaimed, ‘Sweet witch! loveliest syren!—let me hasten to develope a project, inspired, I must hope, by my better genius! Tell me but, frankly, who and what you are, and then—’
Juliet shook her head.
‘Nay, nay, should your origin be the most obscure, I shall but think you more nearly allied to the gods! Jupiter, Apollo, and such like personages, delighted in a secret progeny. If, on the contrary, in sparkling correspondence with your eyes, it is brilliant, but has been clouded by fortune, how ravished shall I be to twirl round the wheels of that capricious deity, till they reach those dulcet regions, where beauty and merit are in harmony with wealth and ease! Tell me, then, what country first saw you bloom; what family originally reared you; by what name you made your first entrance into the world;—and I will turn your champion against all the spirits of the air, all the fiends of the earth, and all the monsters of the “vast abyss!” Leave, then, to such as need those goaders, the magnetism of mystery and wonder, and trust, openly and securely, to the charm of youth, the fascination of intelligence, the enchantment of grace, and the witchery of beauty!’
Juliet was still silent.
‘I see you take me for a vain, curious old caitiff, peeping, peering and prying into business in which I have no concern. Charges such as these are ill cleared by professions; let me plead, therefore, by facts. Should there be a person,—young, rich, à la mode, and not ugly; whose expectations are splendid, who moves in the sphere of high life, who could terminate your difficulties with honour, by casting at your feet that vile dross, which, in fairy hands, such as yours, may be transmuted into benevolence, generosity, humanity,—if such a person there should be, who in return for these grosser and more substantial services, should need the gentler and more refined ones of soft society, mild hints, guidance unseen, admonition unpronounced;—would you, and could you, in such a case, condescend to reciprocate advantages, and their reverse? Would you,—and could you,—if snatched from unmerited embarrassments, to partake of luxuries which your acceptance would honour, bear with a little coxcomical nonsense, and with a larger portion, still, of unmeaning perverseness, and malicious nothingness? I need not, I think, say, that the happy mortal whom I wish to see thus charmed and thus formed, is my nephew Ireton.’
Uncertain whether he meant to mock or to elevate her, Juliet simply answered, that she had long, though without knowing why, found Mr Ireton her enemy; but had never forseen that an ill will as unaccountable as it was unprovoked, would have extended so far, and so wide, as to spread all around her the influence of irony and derision.
‘Hold, hold! fair infidel,’—cried Sir Jaspar, ‘unless you mean to give me a fit of the gout.’
He then solemnly assured her, that he was so persuaded that her excellent understanding, and uncommon intelligence, united, in rare junction, with such youth and beauty, would make her a treasure to a rich and idle young man, whose character, fluctuating between good and bad, or rather between something and nothing, was yet unformed; that, if she would candidly acknowledge her real name, story, and situation, he should merely have to utter a mysterious injunction to Ireton, that he must see her no more, in order to bring him to her feet. ‘He acts but a part,’ continued the Baronet, ‘in judging you ill. He piques himself upon being a man of the world, which, he persuades himself, he manifests to all observers, by a hardy, however vague spirit of detraction and censoriousness; deeming, like all those whose natures have not a kindlier bent, suspicion to be sagacity.’
Juliet was entertained by this singular plan, yet frankly acknowledged, after repeating her thanks, that it offered her not temptation; and continued immoveable, to either address or persuasion, for any sort of personal communication.
A pause of some minutes ensued, during which Sir Jaspar seemed deliberating how next to proceed. He then said, ‘You are decided not to hear of my nephew? He is not, I confess, deserving you; but who is? Yet,—a situation such as this,—a companion such as Mrs Ireton,—any change must surely be preferable to a fixture of such a sort? What, then, must be done? Where youth, youth itself, even when joined to figure and to riches, is rejected, how may it be hoped that age,—age and infirmity!—even though joined with all that is gentlest in kindness, all that is most disinterested in devotion, may be rendered more acceptable?’
Confused, and perplexed how to understand him, Juliet was rising, under pretence of following Bijou; but Sir Jaspar, fastening her gown to the grass by his two crutches, laughingly said, ‘Which will you resist most stoutly? your own cruelty, or the kindness of my little fairy friends? who, at this moment, with a thousand active gambols, are pinning, gluing, plaistering, in sylphick mosaic-work, your robe between the ground and my sticks; so that you cannot tear it away without leaving me, at least, some little memorial that I have had the happiness of seeing you!’
Forced either to struggle or to remain in her place, she sat still, and he continued.
‘Don’t be alarmed, for I shall certainly not offend you. Listen, then, with indulgence, to what I am tempted to propose, and, whether I am impelled by my evil genius, or inspired by my guardian angel—’
Juliet earnestly entreated him to spare her any proposition whatever; but vainly; and he was beginning, with a fervour almost devout, an address to all the sylphs, elves, and aeriel beings of his fanciful idolatry, when a sudden barking from Bijou making him look round, he perceived that Mrs Ireton, advancing on tiptoe, was creeping behind his garden-chair.
Confounded by an apparition so unwished, he leant upon his crutches, gasping and oppressed for breath; while Juliet, to avoid the attack of which the malevolence of Mrs Ireton’s look was the sure precursor, would have retreated, had not her gown been so entangled in the crutches of Sir Jaspar, that she could not rise without leaving him the fragment that he had coveted. In vain she appealed with her eyes for release; his consternation was such, that he saw only, what least he wished to see, the scowling brow of Mrs Ireton; who, to his active imagination, appeared to be Megara herself, just mounted from the lower regions.
‘Well! this is really charming! Quite edifying, I protest!’ burst forth Mrs Ireton, when she found that she was discovered. ‘This is a sort of intercourse I should never have divined! You’ll pardon my want of discernment! I know I am quite behind hand in observation and remark; but I hope, in time, and with so much good instruction, I may become more sagacious. I am glad, however, to see that I don’t disturb you Miss Ellis! Extremely glad to find that you treat your place so amiably without ceremony. I am quite enchanted to be upon terms so familiar and agreeable with you. I may sit down myself, I suppose, upon the grass, meanwhile! ’Twill be really very rural! very rural and pretty!’
Juliet now could no longer conceal her confined situation, for, pinioned to her place, she was compelled to petition the Baronet to set her at liberty.
The real astonishment of Mrs Ireton, upon discovering the cause and means of her detention, was far less amusing to herself, than that which she had affected, while concluding her presumptuous protegée to be a voluntary intruder upon the time, and encroacher upon the politeness of the Baronet. Her eyes now opened, with alarm, to a confusion so unusual in her severe and authoritative brother-in-law; whom she was accustomed to view awing others, not himself awed. Suggestions of the most unpleasant nature occurred to her suspicious mind; and she stood as if thunderstruck in her turn, in silent suspension how to act, or what next to say; till Selina came running forward, to announce that all the company was gone to look at the Roman Catholic chapel; and to enquire whether Mrs Ireton did not mean to make it a visit.
If Sir Jaspar, Mrs Ireton hesitatingly answered, would join the party, she would attend him with pleasure.
Sir Jaspar heard not this invitation. In his haste to give Juliet her freedom, his feeble hands, disobedient to his will, and unable to second the alacrity of his wishes, struck his crutches through her gown; and they were now both, and in equal confusion, employed in disentangling it; and ashamed to look up, or to speak.
Selina, perceiving their position, with the unmeaning glee of a childish love of communication, ran, tittering, away, to tell it to Miss Brinville; who, saying that there was nothing worth seeing in the Roman Catholic chapel, was sauntering after Mrs Ireton, in hopes of finding entertainment more congenial to her mind.
The sight of this lady restored to Mrs Ireton the scoffing powers which amazement, mingled with alarm, had momentarily chilled; and, as Miss Brinville peeringly approached, to verify the whisper of Selina, exclaiming, ‘Dear! what makes poor Sir Jaspar stoop so?’ his loving sister-in-law answered, ‘Sir Jaspar, Miss Brinville? What can Sir Jaspar do? I beg pardon for the question, but what can a gentleman do, when a young woman happens to take a fancy to place herself so near him, that he can’t turn round without incommoding her? Not that I mean to blame Miss Ellis. I hope I know better. I hope I shall never be guilty of such injustice; for how can Miss Ellis help it? What could she do? Where could she turn herself in so confined a place as this? in so narrow a piece of ground? How could she possibly find any other spot for repose?’
A contemptuous smile at Juliet from Miss Brinville, shewed that lady’s approbation of this witty sally; and the junction of Mrs Maple, whose participation in this kind of enjoyment was known to be lively and sincere, exalted still more highly the spirit of poignant sarcasm in Mrs Ireton; who, with smiles of ineffable self-complacency, went on, ‘There are people, indeed,—I am afraid,—I don’t know, but I am afraid so,—there are people who may have the ill nature to think, that the charge of walking out a little delicate animal in the grounds, did not imply an absolute injunction to recline, with lounging elegance, upon an easy chair. There are people, I say, who may have so little intelligence as to be of that way of thinking. ’Tis being abominably stupid, I own, but there’s no enlightening vulgar minds! There is no making them see the merit of quitting an animal for a gentleman; especially for a gentleman in such penury; who has no means to recompense any attentions with which he may be indulged.’
Juliet, more offended, now, even than confused, would willingly have torn her gown to hasten her release; but she was still sore, from the taunts of Mrs Ireton, upon a recent similar mischief.
They were presently joined by the Arramedes; and Mrs Ireton, secure of new admirers, felt her powers of pleasantry encrease every moment.
‘I hope I shall never fail to acknowledge,’ she continued, ‘how supremely I am indebted to those ladies who have had the goodness to recommend this young person to me. I can never repay such kindness, certainly; that would be vastly beyond my poor abilities; for she has the generosity to take an attachment to all that belongs to me! It was only this morning that she had the goodness to hold a private conference with my son. Nobody could tell where to find him. He seemed to have disappeared from the whole house. But no! he had only, as Mr Loddard afterwards informed me, stept into the Temple, with Miss Ellis.’
Sir Jaspar now, surprised and shocked, lifted up his eyes; but their quick penetration instantly read innocence in the indignation expressed in those of Juliet.
Mrs Ireton, however, saw only her own triumph, in the malicious simpers of Miss Brinville, the spiteful sneers of Mrs Maple, and the haughty scorn of Lady Arramede.
Charmed, therefore, with her brilliant success, she went on.
‘How I may be able to reward kindness so extraordinary, I can’t pretend to say. I am so stupid, I am quite at a loss what to devize that may be adequate to such services; for the attentions bestowed upon my son in the morning, I see equally displayed to his uncle at noon. Though there is some partiality, I think, too, shewn to Ireton. I won’t affirm it; but I am rather afraid there is some partiality shewn to Ireton; for though the conference has been equally interesting, I make no doubt, with Sir Jaspar, it has not had quite so friendly an appearance. The open air is very delightful, to be sure; and a beautiful prospect helps to enliven one’s ideas; but still, there is something in complete retirement that seems yet more romantic and amicable. Ireton was so impressed with this idea, as I am told; for I don’t pretend to speak from my own personal knowledge upon subjects of so much importance; but I am told,—Mr Loddard informs me, that Ireton was so sensible to the advantage of having the honours of an exclusive conference, that he not only chose that retired spot, but had the precaution, also, to lock the door. I don’t mean to assert this! it may be all a mistake, perhaps. Miss Ellis can tell best.’
Neither the steadiness of innate dignity, nor the fearlessness of conscious innocence, could preserve Juliet from a sensation of horrour, at a charge which she could not deny, though its implications were false and even atrocious. She saw, too, that, at the words ‘lock the door,’ Sir Jaspar again raised his investigating eyes, in which there was visibly a look of disturbance. She would not, however, deign to make a vindication, lest she should seem to acknowledge it possible that she might be thought culpable; but, being now disengaged, she silently, and uncontrollably hurt, walked away.
‘And pray, Ma’am,’ said Mrs Ireton, ‘if the question is not too impertinent, don’t you see Mr Loddard coming? And who is to take care of Bijou? And where is his basket? And I don’t see his cushion?’
Juliet turned round to answer, ‘I will send them Madam, immediately.’
‘Amazing condescension!’ exclaimed Mrs Ireton, in a rage that she no longer aimed at disguising: ‘I shall never be able to shew my sense of such affability! Never! I am vastly too obtuse, vastly too obtuse and impenetrable to find any adequate means of expressing my gratitude. However, since you really intend me the astonishing favour of sending one of my people upon your own errand, permit me to entreat,—if it is not too great a liberty to take with a person of your unspeakable rank,—permit me to entreat that you will make use of the same vehicle for conveying to me your account; for you are vastly too fine a lady for a person so ordinary as I am to keep under her roof. I have no such ambition, I assure you; not an intention of the kind. So pray let me know what retribution I am to make for your trouble. You have taken vast pains, I imagine, to serve me and please me. I imagine so! I must be prodigiously your debtor, I make no doubt!’
‘What an excess of impertinence!’ cried Lady Arramede.
‘She’ll never know her place,’ said Mrs Maple: ”tis quite in vain to try to serve such a body.’
‘I never saw such airs in my life!’ exclaimed Miss Brinville.
Juliet could endure no more. The most urgent distress seemed light and immaterial, when balanced against submission to treatment so injurious. She walked, therefore, straight forward to the castle, for shelter, immediate shelter, from this insupportable attack; disengaging herself from the spoilt little boy, who strove, nay cried to drag her back; forcing away from her the snarling cur, who would have followed her; and decidedly mute to the fresh commands of Mrs Ireton, uttered in tones of peremptory, but vain authority.
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