Love and Life: An Old Story in Eighteenth Century Costume
must not stand in the way of her good.”
“If I were only sure it is for her good!”
“Why, child, there’s scarce a wench in the county who would not go down
on her knees for such a chance. See what Madam Duckworth would say to it
for Miss Peggy!”
Betty said no more. The result of her cogitations had been that since
Aurelia must be yielded for the sake of her father and Eugene, it was
better not to disturb him with fears, which would only anger him at the
moment and disquiet him afterwards. She was likewise reassured by Mrs.
Dove’s going with her, since that good woman had been nurse to the
little Belamour cousins now deceased, and was well known as an excellent
and trustworthy person, so that, if she were going to act in the same
capacity to my Lady’s second family, Aurelia would have a friend at
hand. So the Major cheated his grief by greeting the church-goers with
the hilarious announcement--
“Here’s great news! What says my little Aura to going London to my
Lady’s house.”
“O Sir! are you about to take us.”
“Not I! My Lady wants pretty young maidens, not battered old soldiers.”
“Nor my sisters? O then, if you please, Sir, I would rather not go!”
“Silly children cannot choose! No, no, Aura, you must go out and see the
world, and come back to us such a belle that your poor old father will
scarce know you.”
“I do not wish to be a belle,” said the girl. “O Sir, let me stay with
you and sister.”
“Do not be so foolish, Aura,” put in Harriet. “It will be the making of
you. I wish I had the offer.”
“O Harriet, could not you go instead?”
“No, Aurelia,” said Betty. “There is no choice, and you must be a good
girl and not vex my father.”
The gravity of her eldest sister convinced Aurelia that entreaties would
be vain, and there was soon a general outburst of assurances that she
would see all that was delightful in London, the lions in the Tower, the
new St. Paul’s, the monuments, Ranelagh, the court ladies, may be,
the King and Queen themselves; until she began to feel exhilarated and
pleased at the prospect and the distinction.
Then came Monday and the bustle of preparing her wardrobe. The main body
of it was to be sent in the carrier’s waggon, for she was to ride on
a pillion behind Mr. Dove, and could only take a valise upon a groom’s
horse. There was no small excitement in the arrangement, and in
the farewells to the neighbours, who all agreed with Harriet in
congratulating the girl on her promotion. Betty did her part with all
her might, washed lace, and trimmed sleeves, and made tuckers, giving
little toilette counsels, while her heart ached sorely all the time.
When she could speak to Mrs. Dove alone, she earnestly besought that old
friend to look after the child, her health, her dress, and above all to
supply here lack of experience and give her kind counsel and advice.
“I will indeed, ma’am, as though she were my own,” promised Mrs. Dove.
“O nurse, I give my sweet jewel to your care; you know what a great
house in London is better than I do. You will warn her of any danger.”
“I will do my endeavour, ma’am. We servants see and hear much, and if
any harm should come nigh the sweet young miss, I’ll do my best for
her.”
“Thank you, nurse, I shall never, never see her more in her free artless
childishness,” said Betty, sobbing as if her heart would break; “but oh,
nurse, I can bear the thought better since I have known that you would
be near her.”
And at night, when her darling nestled for the last time in her arms,
the elder sister whispered her warnings. Her knowledge of the great
world was limited, but she believed it to be a very wicked place, and
she profoundly distrusted her brilliant kinswoman; yet her warnings took
no shape more definite than--“My dearest sister will never forget her
prayers nor her Bible.” There was a soft response and fresh embrace at
each pause. “Nor play cards of a Sunday, nor ever play high. And my Aura
must be deaf to rakish young beaux and their compliments. They never
mean well by poor pretty maids. If you believe them, they will only
mock, flout, and jeer you in the end. And if the young baronet should
seek converse with you, promise me, oh, promise me, Aurelia, to grant
him no favour, no, not so much as to hand him a flower, or stand
chatting with him unknown to his mother. Promise me again, child, for
naught save evil can come of any trifling between you. And, Aurelia, go
to Nurse Dove in all your difficulties. She can advise you where your
poor sister cannot. It will ease my heart if I know that my child will
attend to her. You will not let yourself be puffed up with flattery,
nor be offended if she be open and round with you. Think that your poor
sister Betty speaks in her. Pray our old prayers, go to church, and
read your Psalms and Lessons daily, and oh! never, never cheat your
conscience. O may God, in His mercy, keep my darling!”
So Aurelia cried herself to sleep, while Betty lay awake till the early
hour in the morning when all had to be prepared for the start. There was
to be a ride of an hour and a half before breakfast so as to give the
horses a rest. It was a terrible separation, in many respects more
complete than if Aurelia had been going, in these days, to America;
for communication by letter was almost as slow, and infinitely more
expensive.
No doubt the full import of what he had done had dawned even on Major
Delavie during the watches of that last sorrowful night, for he came out
a pale, haggard man, looking as if his age had doubled since he went to
bed, wrapped in his dressing gown, his head covered with his night-cap,
and leaning heavily on his staff. He came charged with one of the long
solemn discourses which parents were wont to bestow on their children
as valedictions, but when Aurelia, in her camlet riding cloak and hood,
brought her tear-stained face to crave his blessing, he could only utter
broken fragments. “Bless thee my child! Take heed to yourself and your
ways. It is a bad world, beset with temptations. Oh! heaven forgive me
for sending my innocent lamb out into it. Oh! what would your blessed
mother say?”
“Dear sir,” said Betty, who had wept out her tears, and was steadily
composed now, “this is no time to think of that. We must only cheer up
our darling, and give her good counsel. If she keep to what her Bible,
her catechism and her conscience tell her, she will be a good girl, and
God will protect her.”
“True, true, your sister is right; Aura, my little sweetheart, I had
much to say to you, but it is all driven out of my poor old head.”
“Aura! Aura! the horses are coming! Ten of them!” shouted Eugene. “Come
along! Oh! if I were but going! How silly of you to cry; _I_ don’t.”
“There! there! Go my child, and God in His mercy protect you!”
Aurelia in speechless grief passed from the arms of one sister to the
embrace of the other, hugged Eugene, was kissed by Nannerl, who forced
a great piece of cake into her little bag, and finally was lifted to her
pillion cushion by Palmer, who stole a kiss of her hand before Dove put
his horse in motion, while Betty was still commending her sister to his
wife’s care, and receiving reiterated promises of care.
CHAPTER VI. DISAPPOINTED LOVE.
I know thee well, thy songs and sighs,
A wicked god thou art;
And yet, most pleasing to the eyes,
And witching to the heart.
W. MACKWORTH PRAED.
The house was dull when Aurelia was gone. Her father was ill at ease
and therefore testy, Betty too sore at heart to endure as cheerfully
as usual his unwonted ill-humour. Harriet was petulant, and Eugene
troublesome, and the two were constantly jarring against one another,
since the one missed her companion, the other his playmate; and they
were all more sensible than ever how precious and charming an element
was lost to the family circle.
On the next ensuing Sunday, Eugene had made himself extremely obnoxious
to Harriet, by persisting in kicking up the dust, and Betty, who had
gone on before with her father, was availing herself of the shelter of
the great pew to brush with a sharp hand the dust from the little
legs, when, even in the depths of their seclusion, the whole party were
conscious of a sort of breathless sound of surprise and admiration, a
sweep of bows and curtsies, and the measured tread of boots and clank of
sword and spurs coming nearer--yes, to the very chancel. Their very door
was opened by the old clerk with the most obsequious of reverences, and
there entered a gorgeous vision of scarlet and gold, bowing gracefully
with a wave of a cocked and plumed hat!
The Major started, and was moving out of his corner--the seat of
honour--but the stranger forbade this by another gesture, and took his
place, after standing for a moment with his face hidden in his hat. Then
he took an anxious survey, not without an almost imperceptible
elevation of eyebrow and shoulder, as if disappointed, and accepted the
Prayer-book, which the Major offered him.
Betty kept her eyes glued to her book, and when that was not in
use, upon the mittened hands crossed before her, resolute against
distraction, and every prayer turning into a petition for her sister’s
welfare; but Eugene gazed, open-eyed and open-mouthed, oblivious of his
beloved hole, and Harriet, though keeping her lids down, and her book
open, contrived to make a full inspection of the splendid apparition.
It was tall and slight, youthfully undeveloped, yet with the grace of
personal symmetry, high breeding, and military training, upright without
stiffness, with a command and dexterity of movement which prevented the
sword and spurs from being the annoyance to his pew-mates that country
awkwardness usually made these appendages. The spurs were on cavalry
boots, guarding the knee, and met by white buckskins, both so little
dusty that there could have been no journey that morning. The bright
gold-laced scarlet coat of the Household troops entirely effaced the
Major’s old Austrian uniform; and over it, the hair, of a light golden
brown, was brushed back, tied with black ribbon, and hung down far
behind in a queue, only leaving little gold rings curling on the brow
and temples. The face was modelled like a cameo, faultless in the
outlines, with a round peach-like fresh contour and bloom on the fair
cheek, which had much of the child, though with a firmness in the lip,
and strength in the brow, that promised manliness. Indeed there was
a wonderful blending of the beauty of manhood and childhood about the
youth; and his demeanour was perfectly decorous and reverent, no small
merit in a young officer and London beau. Indeed Betty could almost have
forgotten his presence, if gleams from his glittering equipments had
not kept glancing before her eyes, turn them where she would, and if Mr.
Arden’s sermon had not been of Solomon’s extent of natural philosophy,
and so full of Hebrew, Greek, and Latin that she could not follow it at
all.
After the blessing, the young gentleman, with a bow, the pink of
courtesy, offered a hand to lead her out, nor could she refuse, though,
to use her own expression, she hated the absurdity of mincing down the
aisle with a fine young spark looking like her grandson; while her poor
father had to put up with Harriet’s arm. Outside came the greetings, the
flourish of the hat, the “I may venture to introduce myself, and to beg
of you, sir, and of my fair cousins to excuse my sudden intrusion.”
“No apology can be needed for your appearance in your own pew, Sir
Amyas,” said the Major with outstretched hand; “it did my heart good to
see you there!”
“I would not have taken you thus by surprise,” continued the youth, “but
one of my horses lost a shoe yesterday, and we were constrained to halt