BOOK VII. Every man should strive to be as good as possible, but not suppose himself to be the only thing that is good. --PLOTIN. EN. 11. Lib. Ix. C. 9. CHAPTER I. "Deceit is the strong but subtle chain which runs through all the members of a society, and links them together; trick or be tricked is the alternative; 'tis the way of the world, and without it intercourse would drop. " /Anonymous writer/ of 1722. "A lovely child she was, of looks serene, And motions which o'er things indifferent shed The grace and gentleness from whence they came. " PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. "His years but young, but his experience old. "--SHAKESPEARE. "He after honour hunts, I after love. "--/Ibid. / LUMLEY FERRERS was one of the few men in the world who act upon aprofound, deliberate, and organized system--he had done so even from aboy. When he was twenty-one, he had said to himself, "Youth is theseason for enjoyment: the triumphs of manhood, the wealth of age, do notcompensate for a youth spent in unpleasurable toils. " Agreeably to thismaxim, he had resolved not to adopt any profession; and being fond oftravel, and of a restless temper, he had indulged abroad in all thegratifications that his moderate income could afford him: that incomewent farther on the Continent than at home, which was another reason forthe prolongation of his travels. Now, when the whims and passions ofyouth were sated; and, ripened by a consummate and various knowledge ofmankind, his harder capacities of mind became developed and centred intosuch ambition as it was his nature to conceive, he acted no less upon aregular and methodical plan of conduct, which he carried into details. He had little or nothing within himself to cross his cold theories bycontradictory practice; for he was curbed by no principles and regulatedbut by few tastes: and our tastes are often checks as powerful as ourprinciples. Looking round the English world, Ferrers saw, that at hisage and with an equivocal position, and no chances to throw away, it wasnecessary that he should cast off all attributes of the character of thewanderer and the /garcon/. "There is nothing respectable in lodgings and a cab, " said Ferrers tohimself--that "/self/" was his grand confidant!--"nothing stationary. Such are the appliances of a here-to-day-gone-to-morrow kind of life. One never looks substantial till one pays rates and taxes, and has abill with one's butcher!" Accordingly, without saying a word to anybody, Ferrers took a long leaseof a large house, in one of those quiet streets that proclaim the ownersdo not wish to be made by fashionable situations--streets in which, ifyou have a large house, it is supposed to be because you can afford one. He was very particular in its being a respectable street--Great GeorgeStreet, Westminster, was the one he selected. No frippery or baubles, common to the mansions of young bachelors--nobuhl, and marquetrie, and Sevres china, and cabinet pictures, distinguished the large dingy drawing-rooms of Lumley Ferrers. Hebought all the old furniture a bargain of the late tenant--tea-colouredchintz curtains, and chairs and sofas that were venerable and solemnwith the accumulated dust of twenty-five years. The only things aboutwhich he was particular were a very long dining-table that would holdfour-and-twenty, and a new mahogany sideboard. Somebody asked him whyhe cared about such articles. "I don't know, " said he "but I observeall respectable family-men do--there must be something in it--I shalldiscover the secret by and by. " In this house did Mr. Ferrers ensconce himself with two middle-agedmaidservants, and a man out of livery, whom he chose from a multitude ofcandidates, because the man looked especially well fed. Having thussettled himself, and told every one that the lease of his house was forsixty-three years, Lumley Ferrers made a little calculation of hisprobable expenditure, which he found, with good management, might amountto about one-fourth more than his income. "I shall take the surplus out of my capital, " said he, "and try theexperiment for five years; if it don't do, and pay me profitably, why, then either men are not to be lived upon, or Lumley Ferrers is a muchduller clog than he thinks himself!" Mr. Ferrers had deeply studied the character of his uncle, as a prudentspeculator studies the qualities of a mine in which he means to investhis capital, and much of his present proceedings was intended to actupon the uncle as well as upon the world. He saw that the more he couldobtain for himself, not a noisy, social, fashionable reputation, but agood, sober, substantial one, the more highly Mr. Templeton wouldconsider him, and the more likely he was to be made his uncle'sheir, --that is, provided Mrs. Templeton did not supersede the nepotalparasite by indigenous olive-branches. This last apprehension died awayas time passed, and no signs of fertility appeared. And, accordingly, Ferrers thought he might prudently hazard more upon the game on which henow ventured to rely. There was one thing, however, that greatlydisturbed his peace; Mr. Templeton, though harsh and austere in hismanner to his wife, was evidently attached to her; and, above all, hecherished the fondest affection for his stepdaughter. He was as anxiousfor her health, her education, her little childish enjoyments, as if hehad been not only her parent, but a very doting one. He could not bearher to be crossed or thwarted. Mr. Templeton, who had never spoiledanything before, not even an old pen (so careful, and calculating, andmethodical was he), did his best to spoil this beautiful child whom hecould not even have the vain luxury of thinking he had produced to theadmiring world. Softly, exquisitely lovely was that little girl; andevery day she increased in the charm of her person, and in the caressingfascination of her childish ways. Her temper was so sweet and docile, that fondness and petting, however injudiciously exhibited, only seemedyet more to bring out the colours of a grateful and tender nature. Perhaps the measured kindness of more reserved affection might have beenthe true way of spoiling one whose instincts were all for exacting andreturning love. She was a plant that suns less warm might have nippedand chilled. But beneath an uncapricious and unclouded sunshine shesprang up in a luxurious bloom of heart and sweetness of disposition. Every one, even those who did not generally like children, delighted inthis charming creature, excepting only Mr. Lumley Ferrers. But thatgentleman, less mild than Pope's Narcissa, -- "To make a wash, had gladly stewed the child!" He had seen how very common it is for a rich man, married late in life, to leave everything to a young widow and her children by her formermarriage, when once attached to the latter; and he sensibly felt that hehimself had but a slight hold over Templeton by the chain of theaffections. He resolved, therefore, as much as possible, to alienatehis uncle from his young wife; trusting that, as the influence of thewife was weakened, that of the child would be lessened also; and toraise in Templeton's vanity and ambition an ally that might supply tohimself the want of love. He pursued his twofold scheme with masterlyart and address. He first sought to secure the confidence and regard ofthe melancholy and gentle mother; and in this--for she was peculiarlyunsuspicious and inexperienced, he obtained signal and complete success. His frankness of manner, his deferential attention, the art with whichhe warded off from her the spleen or ill-humour of Mr. Templeton, thecheerfulness that his easy gaiety threw over a very gloomy house, madethe poor lady hail his visits and trust in his friendship. Perhaps shewas glad of any interruption to /tetes-a-tetes/ with a severe andungenial husband, who had no sympathy for the sorrows, of whatevernature they might be, which preyed upon her, and who made it a point ofmorality to find fault wherever he could. The next step in Lumley's policy was to arm Templeton's vanity againsthis wife, by constantly refreshing his consciousness of the sacrificeshe had made by marriage, and the certainty that he would have attainedall his wishes had he chosen more prudently. By perpetually, but mostjudiciously, rubbing this sore point, he, as it were, fixed theirritability into Templeton's constitution, and it reacted on all histhoughts, aspiring or domestic. Still, however, to Lumley's greatsurprise and resentment, while Templeton cooled to his wife, he onlywarmed to her child. Lumley had not calculated enough upon the thirstand craving for affection in most human hearts; and Templeton, thoughnot exactly an amiable man, had some excellent qualities; if he had lesssensitively regarded the opinion of the world, he would neither havecontracted the vocabulary of cant, nor sickened for a peerage--both hisaffectation of saintship, and his gnawing desire of rank, arose from anextraordinary and morbid deference to opinion, and a wish for worldlyhonours and respect, which he felt that his mere talents could notsecure to him. But he was, at bottom, a kindly man--charitable to thepoor, considerate to his servants, and had within him the want to loveand be loved, which is one of the desires wherewith the atoms of theuniverse are cemented and harmonised. Had Mrs. Templeton evinced love tohim, he might have defied all Lumley's diplomacy, been consoled forworldly disadvantages, and been a good and even uxorious husband. Butshe evidently did not love him, though an admirable, patient, providentwife; and her daughter /did/ love him--love him as well even as sheloved her mother; and the hard worldling would not have accepted akingdom as the price of that little fountain of pure and ever-refreshingtenderness. Wise and penetrating as Lumley was, he never couldthoroughly understand this weakness, as he called it; for we never knowmen entirely, unless we have complete sympathies with men in all theirnatural emotions; and Nature had left the workmanship of Lumley Ferrersunfinished and incomplete, by denying him the possibility of caring foranything but himself. His plan for winning Templeton's esteem and deference was, however, completely triumphant. He took care that nothing in his /menage/ shouldappear "/extravagant/;" all was sober, quiet, and well-regulated. Hedeclared that he had so managed as to live within his income: andTempleton receiving no hint for money, nor aware that Ferrers had on theContinent consumed a considerable portion of his means, believed him. Ferrers gave a great many dinners, but he did not go on that foolishplan which has been laid down by persons who pretend to know life, as ameans of popularity--he did not profess to give dinners better thanother people. He knew that, unless you are a very rich or a very greatman, no folly is equal to that of thinking that you soften the hearts ofyour friends by soups /a la bisque/, and Johannisberg at a guinea abottle. They all go away saying, "What right has that d----d fellow togive a better dinner than we do? What horrid taste! What ridiculouspresumption. " No; though Ferrers himself was a most scientific epicure, and held theluxury of the palate at the highest possible price, he dieted hisfriends on what he termed "respectable fare. " His cook put plenty offlour into the oyster sauce; cod's head and shoulders made hisinvariable fish; and four /entrees/, without flavour or pretence, wereduly supplied by the pastry-cook, and carefully eschewed by the host. Neither did Mr. Ferrers affect to bring about him gay wits and brillianttalkers. He confined himself to men of substantial consideration, andgenerally took care to be himself the cleverest person present; while heturned the conversation on serious matters crammed for theoccasion--politics, stocks, commerce, and the criminal code. Pruninghis gaiety, though he retained his frankness, he sought to be known as ahighly-informed, painstaking man, who would be sure to rise. Hisconnections, and a certain nameless charm about him, consisting chieflyin a pleasant countenance, a bold yet winning candour, and the absenceof all /hauteur/ or pretence, enabled him to assemble round this plaintable, which, if it gratified no taste, wounded no self-love, asufficient number of public men of rank, and eminent men of business, toanswer his purpose. The situation he had chosen, so near the Houses ofParliament, was convenient to politicians, and, by degrees, the largedingy drawing-rooms became a frequent resort for public men to talk overthose thousand underplots by which a party is served or attached. Thus, though not in parliament himself, Ferrers became insensibly associatedwith parliamentary men and things, and the ministerial party, whosepolitics he espoused, praised him highly, made use of him, and meant, some day or other, to do something for him. While the career of this able and unprincipled man thus opened--and ofcourse the opening was not made in a day--Ernest Maltravers wasascending by a rough, thorny, and encumbered path, to that eminence onwhich the monuments of men are built. His success in public life wasnot brilliant nor sudden. For, though he had eloquence and knowledge, he disdained all oratorical devices; and though he had passion andenergy, he could scarcely be called a warm partisan. He met with muchenvy, and many obstacles; and the gracious and buoyant sociality oftemper and manners that had, in early youth, made him the idol of hiscontemporaries at school or college, had long since faded away into acold, settled, and lofty, though gentle reserve, which did not attracttowards him the animal spirits of the herd. But though he spoke seldom, and heard many, with half his powers, more enthusiastically cheered, hedid not fail of commanding attention and respect; and though no darlingof cliques and parties, yet in that great body of the people who wereever the audience and tribunal to which, in letters or in politics, Maltravers appealed, there was silently growing up, and spreading wide, a belief in his upright intentions, his unpurchasable honour, and hiscorrect and well-considered views. He felt that his name was safelyinvested, though the return for the capital was slow and moderate. Hewas contented to abide his time. Every day he grew more attached to that true philosophy which makes aman, as far as the world will permit, a world to himself; and from theheight of a tranquil and serene self-esteem, he felt the sun shine abovehim, when malignant clouds spread sullen and ungenial below. He did notdespise or wilfully shock opinion, neither did he fawn upon and flatterit. Where he thought the world should be humoured, he humoured--wherecontemned, he contemned it. There are many cases in which an honest, well-educated, high-hearted individual is a much better judge than themultitude of what is right and what is wrong; and in these matters he isnot worth three straws if he suffer the multitude to bully or coax himout of his judgment. The Public, if you indulge it, is a most damnablegossip, thrusting its nose into people's concerns, where it has no rightto make or meddle; and in those things, where the Public is impertinent, Maltravers scorned and resisted its interference as haughtily as hewould the interference of any insolent member of the insolent whole. Itwas this mixture of deep love and profound respect for the eternalPEOPLE, and of calm, passionless disdain for that capricious charlatan, the momentary PUBLIC, which made Ernest Maltravers an original andsolitary thinker; and an actor, in reality modest and benevolent, inappearance arrogant and unsocial. "Pauperism, in contradistinction topoverty, " he was wont to say, "is the dependence upon other people forexistence, not on our own exertions; there is a moral pauperism in theman who is dependent on others for that support of morallife--self-respect. " Wrapped in this philosophy, he pursued his haughty and lonesome way, andfelt that in the deep heart of mankind, when prejudices and enviesshould die off, there would be a sympathy with his motives and hiscareer. So far as his own health was concerned, the experiment hadanswered. No mere drudgery of business--late hours and dullspeeches--can produce the dread exhaustion which follows the efforts ofthe soul to mount into the higher air of severe thought or intenseimagination. Those faculties which had been overstrained now layfallow--and the frame rapidly regained its tone. Of private comfort andinspiration Ernest knew but little. He gradually grew estranged fromhis old friend Ferrers, as their habits became opposed. Cleveland livedmore and more in the country, and was too well satisfied with hisquondam pupil's course of life and progressive reputation to trouble himwith exhortation or advice. Cesarini had grown a literary lion, whosegenius was vehemently lauded by all the reviews--on the same principleas that which induces us to praise foreign singers or dead men;--we mustpraise something, and we don't like to praise those who jostleourselves. Cesarini had therefore grown prodigiously conceited--sworethat England was the only country for true merit; and no longerconcealed his jealous anger at the wider celebrity of Maltravers. Ernest saw him squandering away his substance, and prostituting histalents to drawing-room trifles, with a compassionate sigh. He soughtto warn him, but Cesarini listened to him with such impatience that heresigned the office of monitor. He wrote to De Montaigne, who succeededno better. Cesarini was bent on playing his own game. And to one game, without a metaphor, he had at last come. His craving for excitementvented itself at Hazard, and his remaining guineas melted daily away. But De Montaigne's letters to Maltravers consoled him for the loss ofless congenial friends. The Frenchman was now an eminent and celebratedman; and his appreciation of Maltravers was sweeter to the latter thanwould have been the huzzas of crowds. But, all this while, his vanitywas pleased and his curiosity roused by the continued correspondence ofhis unseen Egeria. That correspondence (if so it may be called, beingall on one side) had now gone on for a considerable time, and he wasstill wholly unable to discover the author: its tone had of latealtered--it had become more sad and subdued--it spoke of the hollownessas well as the rewards of fame; and, with a touch of true womanlysentiment, often hinted more at the rapture of soothing dejection, thanof sharing triumph. In all these letters, there was the undeniableevidence of high intellect and deep feeling; they excited a strong andkeen interest in Maltravers, yet the interest was not that which madehim wish to discover, in order that he might love, the writer. Theywere for the most part too full of the irony and bitterness of a man'sspirit, to fascinate one who considered that gentleness was the essenceof a woman's strength. Temper spoke in them, no less than mind andheart, and it was not the sort of temper which a man who loves women tobe womanly could admire. "I hear you often spoken of" (ran one of these strange epistles), "and Iam almost equally angry whether fools presume to praise or to blame you. This miserable world we live in, how I loathe and disdain it!--yet Idesire you to serve and to master it! Weak contradiction, effeminateparadox! Oh! rather a thousand times that you would fly from its meantemptations and poor rewards!--if the desert were your dwelling-placeand you wished one minister, I could renounce all--wealth, flattery, repute, womanhood--to serve you. * * * * * "I once admired you for your genius. My disease has fastened on me, andI now almost worship you for yourself. I have seen you, ErnestMaltravers, --seen you often, --and when you never suspected that theseeyes were on you. Now that I have seen, I understand you better. Wecan not judge men by their books and deeds. Posterity can know nothingof the beings of the past. A thousand books never written--a thousanddeeds never done--are in the eyes and lips of the few greater than theherd. In that cold, abstracted gaze, that pale and haughty brow, I readthe disdain of obstacles, which is worthy of one who is confident of thegoal. But my eyes fill with tears when I survey you!--you are sad, youare alone! If failures do not mortify you, success does not elevate. Oh, Maltravers, I, woman as I am, and living in a narrow circle, I, evenI, know at last that to have desires nobler, and ends more august, thanothers, is but to surrender waking life to morbid and melancholy dreams. * * * * * "Go more into the world, Maltravers--go more into the world, or quit italtogether. Your enemies must be met; they accumulate, they growstrong--you are too tranquil, too slow in your steps towards the prizewhich should be yours, to satisfy my impatience, to satisfy yourfriends. Be less refined in your ambition that you may be moreimmediately useful. The feet of clay after all are the swiftest in therace. Even Lumley Ferrers will outstrip you if you do not take heed. * * * * * "Why do I run on thus!--you--you love another, yet you are not less theideal that I could love--if ever I loved any one. You love--andyet--well--no matter. " CHAPTER II. "Well, but this is being only an official nobleman. No matter, 'tis still being a nobleman, and that's his aim. " /Anonymous writer of 1772/. "La musique est le seul des talens qui jouissent de lui-meme; tons les autres veulent des temoins. "*--MARMONTEL. * Music is the sole talent which gives pleasure of itself; all theothers require witnesses. "Thus the slow ox would gaudy trappings claim. "--HORACE. MR. TEMPLETON had not obtained his peerage, and, though he had met withno direct refusal, nor made even a direct application to headquarters, he was growing sullen. He had great parliamentary influence, not closeborough, illegitimate influence, but very proper orthodox influence ofcharacter, wealth, and so forth. He could return one member at leastfor a city--he could almost return one member for a county, and in threeboroughs any activity on his part could turn the scale in a closecontest. The ministers were strong, but still they could not afford tolose supporters hitherto zealous--the example of desertion iscontagious. In the town which Templeton had formerly represented, andwhich he now almost commanded, a vacancy suddenly ocurred--a candidatestarted on the opposition side and commenced a canvass; to theastonishment and panic of the Secretary of the Treasury, Templeton putforward no one, and his interest remained dormant. Lord Saxinghamhurried to Lumley. "My dear fellow, what is this?--what can your uncle be about? We shalllose this place--one of our strongholds. Bets run even. " "Why, you see, you have all behaved very ill to my uncle--I am reallysorry for it, but I can do nothing. " "What, this confounded peerage! Will that content him, and nothingshort of it?" "Nothing. " "He must have it, by Jove!" "And even that may come too late. " "Ha! do you think so?" "Will you leave the matter to me?" "Certainly--you are a monstrous clever fellow, and we all esteem you. " "Sit down and write as I dictate, my dear lord. " "Well, " said Lord Saxingham, seating himself at Lumley's enormouswriting-table--"well, go on. " "/My dear Mr. Templeton/--" "Too familiar, " said Lord Saxingham. "Not a bit; go on. " "/My dear Mr. Templeton:/-- "/We are anxious to secure your parliamentary influence in C------ tothe proper quarter, namely, to your own family, as the best defenders ofthe administration, which you honour by your support. We wish signally, at the same time, to express our confidence in your principles, and ourgratitude for your countenance. /" "D-----d sour countenance!" muttered Lord Saxingham. "/Accordingly, /" continued Ferrers, "/as one whose connection with youpermits the liberty, allow me to request that you will suffer our jointrelation, Mr. Ferrers, to be put into immediate nomination. /" Lord Saxingham threw down the pen and laughed for two minutes withoutceasing. "Capital, Lumley, capital--Very odd I did not think of itbefore. " "Each man for himself, and God for us all, " returned Lumley, gravely:"pray go on, my dear lord. " "/We are sure you could not have a representative that would, morefaithfully reflect your own opinions and our interests. One word more. A creation of peers will probably take place in the spring, among whichI am sure your name would be to his Majesty a gratifying addition; thetitle will of course be secured to your sons--and failing the latter, toyour nephew. / "/With great regard and respect, "Truly yours, "SAXINGHAM. /" "There, inscribe that 'Private and confidential, ' and send it expressto my uncle's villa. " "It shall be done, my dear Lumley--and this contents me as much as itdoes you. You are really a man to do us credit. You think it will bearranged?" "No doubt of it. " "Well, good day. Lumley, come to me when it is all settled: Florence isalways glad to see yon; she says no one amuses her more. And I am surethat is rare praise, for she is a strange girl, --quite a Timon inpetticoats. " Away went Lord Saxingham. "Florence glad to see me!" said Lumley, throwing his arms behind him, and striding to and fro the room--"Scheme the Second begins to smileupon me behind the advancing shadow of Scheme One. If I can but succeedin keeping away other suitors from my fair cousin until I am in acondition to propose myself, why, I may carry off the greatest match inthe three kingdoms. /Courage, mon brave Ferrers, courage!/" It was late that evening when Ferrers arrived at his uncle's villa. Hefound Mrs. Templeton in the drawing-room seated at the piano. Heentered gently; she did not hear him, and continued at the instrument. Her voice was so sweet and rich, her taste so pure, that Ferrers, whowas a good judge of music, stood in delighted surprise. Often as he hadnow been a visitor, even an inmate, at the house, he had never beforeheard Mrs. Templeton play any but sacred airs, and this was one of thepopular songs of sentiment. He perceived that her feeling at lastoverpowered her voice, and she paused abruptly, and turning round, herface was so eloquent of emotion, that Ferrers was forcibly struck by itsexpression. He was not a man apt to feel curiosity for anything notimmediately concerning himself; but he did feel curious about thismelancholy and beautiful woman. There was in her usual aspect thatinexpressible look of profound resignation which betokens a lastingremembrance of a bitter past: a prematurely blighted heart spoke in hereyes, in her smile, her languid and joyless step. But she performed theroutine of her quiet duties with a calm and conscientious regularitywhich showed that grief rather depressed than disturbed her thoughts. If her burden were heavy, custom seemed to have reconciled her to bearit without repining; and the emotion which Ferrers now traced in hersoft and harmonious features was of a nature he had only once witnessedbefore--viz. , on the first night he had seen her, when poetry, which isthe key of memory, had evidently opened a chamber haunted by mournfuland troubled ghosts. "Ah! dear madam, " said Ferrers, advancing, as he found himselfdiscovered, "I trust I do not disturb you. My visit is unseasonable;but my uncle--where is he?" "He has been in town all the morning; he said he should dine out, and Inow expect him every minute. " "You have been endeavouring to charm away the sense of his absence. Dare I ask you to continue to play? It is seldom that I hear a voice sosweet and skill so consummate. You must have been instructed by thebest Italian masters. " "No, " said Mrs. Templeton, with a very slight colour in her delicatecheek, "I learned young, and of one who loved music and felt it; but whowas not a foreigner. " "Will you sing me that song again?--you give the words a beauty I neverdiscovered in them; yet they (as well as the music itself), are by mypoor friend whom Mr. Templeton does not like--Maltravers. " "Are they his also?" said Mrs. Templeton, with emotion; "it is strange Idid not know it. I heard the air in the streets, and it struck me much. I inquired the name of the song and bought it--it is very strange!" "What is strange?" "That there is a kind of language in your friend's music and poetrywhich comes home to me, like words I have heard years ago! Is he young, this Mr. Maltravers?" "Yes, he is still young. " "And, and--" Here Mrs. Templeton was interrupted by the entrance of her husband. Heheld the letter from Lord Saxingham--it was yet unopened. He seemedmoody; but that was common with him. He coldly shook hands with Lumley;nodded to his wife, found fault with the fire, and throwing himself intohis easy-chair, said, "So, Lumley, I think I was a fool for taking youradvice--and hanging back about this new election. I see by the eveningpapers that there is shortly to be a creation of peers. If I had shownactivity on behalf of the government I might have shamed them intogratitude. " "I think I was right, sir, " replied Lumley; "public men are oftenalarmed into gratitude, seldom shamed into it. Firm votes, like oldfriends, are most valued when we think we are about to lose them; butwhat is that letter in your hand?" "Oh, some begging petition, I suppose. " "Pardon me--it has an official look. " Templeton put on his spectacles, raised the letter, examined the address and seal, hastily opened it, andbroke into an exclamation very like an oath: when he had concluded--"Give me your hand, nephew--the thing is settled--I am to have thepeerage. You were right--ha, ha!--my dear wife, you will be my lady, think of that--aren't you glad?--why don't your ladyship smile? Where'sthe child--where is she, I say?" "Gone to bed, sir, " said Mrs. Templeton, half frightened. "Gone to bed! I must go and kiss her. Gone to bed, has she? Lightthat candle, Lumley. " [Here Mr. Templeton rang the bell. ] "John, " saidhe, as the servant entered, --"John, tell James to go the first thing inthe morning to Baxter's, and tell him not to paint my chariot till hehears from me. I must go kiss the child--I must, really. " "D--- the child, " muttered Lumley, as, after giving the candle to hisuncle, he turned to the fire; "what the deuce has she got to do with thematter? Charming little girl--yours, madam! how I love her! My uncledotes on her--no wonder!" "He is, indeed, very, very, fond of her, " said Mrs. Templeton, with asigh that seemed to come from the depth of her heart. "Did he take a fancy to her before you were married?" "Yes, I believe--oh yes, certainly. " "Her own father could not be more fond of her. " Mrs. Templeton made no answer, but lighted her candle, and wishingLumley good night, glided from the room. "I wonder if my grave aunt and my grave uncle took a bite at the applebefore they bought the right of the tree. It looks suspicious; yet no, it can't be; there is nothing of the seducer or the seductive about theold fellow. It is not likely--here he comes. " In came Templeton, and his eyes were moist, and his brow relaxed. "And how is the little angel, sir?" asked Ferrers. "She kissed me, though I woke her up; children are usually cross whenwakened. " "Are they?--little dears! Well, sir, so I was right, then; may I seethe letter?" "There it is. " Ferrers drew his chair to the fire, and read his own production with allthe satisfaction of an anonymous author. "How kind!--how considerate!--how delicately put!--a double favour! Butperhaps, after all, it does not express your wishes. " "In what way?" "Why--why--about myself. " "/You!/--is there anything about /you/ in it?--I did not observe/that/--let me see. " "Uncles never selfish!--mem. For commonplace book!" thought Ferrers. The uncle knit his brows as he re-perused the letter. This won't do, Lumley, " said he very shortly, when he had done. "A seat in parliament is too much honour for a poor nephew, then, sir?"said Lumley, very bitterly, though he did not feel at all bitter; but itwas the proper tone. "I have done all in my power to advance yourambition, and you will not even lend a hand to forward me one step in mycareer. But, forgive me, sir, I have no right to expect it. " "Lumley, " replied Templeton, kindly, "you mistake me. I think much morehighly of you than I did--much: there is a steadiness, a sobriety aboutyou most praiseworthy, and you shall go into parliament if you wish it;but not for C------. I will give my interest there to some other friendof the government, and in return they can give you a treasury borough!That is the same thing to you. " Lumley was agreeably surprised--he pressed his uncle's hand warmly, andthanked him cordially. Mr. Templeton proceeded to explain to him thatit was inconvenient and expensive sitting for places where one's familywas known, and Lumley fully subscribed to all. "As for the settlement of the peerage, that is all right, " saidTempleton; and then he sank into a reverie, from which he brokejoyously--"yes, that is all right. I have projects, objects--this mayunite them all--nothing can be better--you will be the nextlord--what--I say, what title shall we have?" "Oh, take a sounding one--yon have very little landed property, Ithink?" "Two thousand a year in ------shire, bought a bargain. " "What's the name of the place?" "Grubley. " "Lord Grubley!--Baron Grubley of Grubley--oh, atrocious! Who had theplace before you?" "Bought it of Mr. Sheepshanks--very old family. " "But surely some old Norman once had the place?" "Norman, yes! Henry the Second gave it to his barber--Bertram Courval. " "That's it!--that's it! Lord de Courval--singular coincidence!--descentfrom the old line. Herald's College soon settle all that. Lord deCourval!--nothing can sound better. There must be a village or hamletstill called Courval about the property. " "I am afraid not. There is Coddle End!" "Coddle End!--Coddle End!--the very thing, sir--the very thing--clearcorruption from Courval!--Lord de Courval of Courval! Superb! Ha! ha!" "Ha! ha!" laughed Templeton, and he had hardly laughed before since hewas thirty. The relations sat long and conversed familiarly. Ferrers slept at thevilla, and his sleep was sound; for he thought little of plans onceformed and half executed; it was the hunt that kept him awake, and heslept like a hound when the prey was down. Not so Templeton, who didnot close his eyes all night. --"Yes, yes, " thought he, "I must get thefortune and the title in one line by a prudent management. Ferrersdeserves what I mean to do for him. Steady, good-natured, frank, andwill get on--yes, yes, I see it all. Meanwhile I did well to preventhis standing for C------; might pick up gossip about Mrs. T. , and otherthings that might be unpleasant. Ah, I'm a shrewd fellow!" CHAPTER III. "/Lauzun. /--There, Marquis, there, I've done it. /Montespan. /--Done it! yes! Nice doings!" /The Duchess de la Valliere/. LUMLEY hastened to strike while the iron was hot. The next morning hewent straight to the Treasury--saw the managing secretary, a clever, sharp man, who, like Ferrers, carried off intrigue and manoeuvre by ablunt, careless, bluff manner. Ferrers announced that he was to stand for the free, respectable, opencity of C------, with an electoral population of 2, 500. A very showyplace it was for a member in the old ante-reform times, and wasconsidered a thoroughly independent borough. The secretarycongratulated and complimented him. "We have had losses lately in /our/ elections among the largerconstituencies, " said Lumley. "We have indeed--three towns lost in the last six months. Members dodie so very unseasonably. " "Is Lord Staunch yet provided for?" asked Lumley. Now Lord Staunch wasone of the popular show-fight great guns of the administration--not inoffice, but that most useful person to all governments, an out-and-outsupporter upon the most independent principles--who was known to haverefused place and to value himself on independence--a man who helped thegovernment over the stile when it was seized with a temporary lameness, and who carried "great weight with him in the country. " Lord Staunchhad foolishly thrown up a close borough in order to contest a largecity, and had failed in the attempt. His failure was everywhere citedas a proof of the growing unpopularity of ministers. "Is Lord Staunch yet provided for?" asked Lumley. "Why, he must have his old seat--Three-Oaks. Three-Oaks is a nice, quietlittle place; most respectable constituency--all Staunch's own family. " "Just the thing for him; yet, 'tis a pity that he did not wait to standfor C------; my uncle's interest would have secured him. " "Ay, I thought so the moment C------ was vacant. However, it is toolate now. " "It would be a great triumph if Lord Staunch could show that a largeconstituency volunteered to elect him without expense. " "Without expense!--Ah, yes, indeed! It would prove that purity ofelection still exists--that British institutions are still upheld. " "It might be done, Mr. ------. " "Why, I thought that you--" "Were to stand--that is true--and it will be difficult to manage myuncle; but he loves me much--you know I am his heir--I believe I coulddo it; that is, if you think it would be /a very great advantage/ to theparty, and /a very great service/ to the government. " "Why, Mr. Ferrers, it would indeed be both. " "And in that case I could have Three-Oaks. " "I see--exactly so; but to give up so respectable a seat--really it is asacrifice. " "Say no more, it shall be done. A deputation shall wait on Lord Staunchdirectly. I will see my uncle, and a despatch shall be sent down toC------ to-night; at least, I hope so. I must not be too confident. Myuncle is an old man, nobody but myself can manage him; I'll go thisinstant. " "You may be sure your kindness will be duly appreciated. " Lumley shook hands cordially with the secretary and retired. Thesecretary was not "humbugged, " nor did Lumley expect he should be. Butthe secretary noted this of Lumley Ferrers (and that gentleman's objectwas gained), that Lumley Ferrers was a man who looked out for office, and if he did tolerably well in parliament, that Lumley Ferrers was aman who ought to be /pushed/. Very shortly afterwards the /Gazette/ announced the election of LordStaunch for C------, after a sharp but decisive contest. Theministerial journals rang with exulting paeans; the opposition onescalled the electors of C------ all manner of hard names, and declaredthat Mr. Stout, Lord Staunch's opponent, would petition--which he neverdid. In the midst of the hubbub, Mr. Lumley Ferrers quietly andunobservedly crept into the representation of Three-Oaks. On the night of his election he went to Lord Saxingham's; but what therehappened deserves another chapter. CHAPTER IV. "Je connois des princes du sang, des princes etrangers, des grands seigneurs, des ministres d'etat, des magistrats, et des philosophes qui fileroient pour l'amour de vous. En pouvez-vous demander davantage?"* /Lettres de Madame de Sevigne/ * I know princes of the blood, foreign princes, great lords, ministersof state, magistrates, and philosophers who would even spin for love ofyou. What can you ask more? "/Lindore. / I--I believe it will choke me. I'm in love * * * Nowhold your tongue. Hold your tongue, I say. "/Dalner. / You in love! Ha! ha! "/Lind. / There, he laughs. "/Dal. / No; I am really sorry for you. " /German Play (False Delicacy)/. * * * "What is here? Gold. "--SHAKSPEARE. IT happened that that evening Maltravers had, for the first time, accepted one of many invitations with which Lord Saxingham had honouredhim. His lordship and Maltravers were of different political parties, nor were they in other respects adapted to each other. Lord Saxinghamwas a clever man in his way, but worldly even to a proverb among worldlypeople. That "man was born to walk erect and look upon the stars, " isan eloquent fallacy that Lord Saxingham might suffice to disprove. Heseemed born to walk with a stoop; and if he ever looked upon any stars, they were those which go with a garter. Though of celebrated andhistorical ancestry, great rank, and some personal reputation, he hadall the ambition of a /parvenu/. He had a strong regard for office, notso much from the sublime affection for that sublime thing, --power overthe destinies of a glorious nation, --as because it added to that vulgarthing--importance in his own set. He looked on his cabinet uniform as abeadle looks on his gold lace. He also liked patronage, secured goodthings to distant connections, got on his family to the remotest degreeof relationship; in short, he was of the earth, earthy. He did notcomprehend Maltravers; and Maltravers, who every day grew prouder andprouder, despised him. Still, Lord Saxingham was told that Maltraverswas a rising man, and he thought it well to be civil to rising men, ofwhatever party; besides, his vanity was flattered by having men who aretalked of in his train. He was too busy and too great a personage tothink Maltravers could be other than sincere, when he declared himself, in his notes, "very sorry, " or "much concerned, " to forego the honour ofdining with Lord Saxingham on the, &c. , &c. ; and therefore continued hisinvitations, till Maltravers, from that fatality which undoubtedlyregulates and controls us, at last accepted the proffered distinction. He arrived late--most of the guests were assembled; and, afterexchanging a few words with his host, Ernest fell back into the generalgroup, and found himself in the immediate neighbourhood of Lady FlorenceLascelles. This lady had never much pleased Maltravers, for he was notfond of masculine or coquettish heroines, and Lady Florence seemed tohim to merit both epithets; therefore, though he had met her often sincethe first day he had been introduced to her, he had usually contentedhimself with a distant bow or a passing salutation. But now, as heturned round and saw her, she was, for a miracle, sitting alone; and inher most dazzling and noble countenance there was so evident anappearance of ill health, that he was struck and touched by it. Infact, beautiful as she was, both in face and form, there was somethingin the eye and the bloom of Lady Florence, which a skilful physicianwould have seen with prophetic pain. And, whenever occasional illnesspaled the roses of the cheek, and sobered the play of the lips, even anordinary observer would have thought of the old commonplaceproverb--"that the brightest beauty has the briefest life. " It was somesentiment of this kind, perhaps, that now awakened the sympathy ofMaltravers. He addressed her with more marked courtesy than usual, andtook a seat by her side. "You have been to the House, I suppose, Mr. Maltravers?" said LadyFlorence. "Yes, for a short time; it is not one of our field nights--no divisionwas expected; and by this time, I dare say, the House has been countedout. " "Do you like the life?" "It has excitement, " said Maltravers, evasively. "And the excitement is of a noble character?" "Scarcely so, I fear--it is so made up of mean and malignantmotives, --there is in it so much jealousy of our friends, so muchunfairness to our enemies;--such readiness to attribute to others thebasest objects, --such willingness to avail ourselves of the pooreststratagems! The ends may be great, but the means are very ambiguous. " "I knew /you/ would feel this, " exclaimed Lady Florence, with aheightened colour. "Did you?" said Maltravers, rather interested as well as surprised. "Iscarcely imagined it possible that you would deign to divine secrets soinsignificant. " "You did not do me justice, then, " returned Lady Florence, with an archyet half-painful smile; "for--but I was about to be impertinent. " "Nay, say on. " For--then--I do not imagine you to be one apt to do injustice toyourself. " "Oh, you consider me presumptuous and arrogant; but that is commonreport, and you do right, perhaps, to believe it. " "Was there ever any one unconscious of his own merit?" asked LadyFlorence, proudly. "They who distrust themselves have good reason forit. " "You seek to cure the wound you inflicted, " returned Maltravers, smiling. "No; what I said was an apology for myself, as well as for you. Youneed no words to vindicate you; you are a man, and can bear out allarrogance with the royal motto /Dieu et mon droit/. With you deeds cansupport pretension; but I am a woman--it was a mistake of Nature. " "But what triumphs that man can achieve bring so immediate, so palpablea reward as those won by a woman, beautiful and admired--who finds everyroom an empire, and every class her subjects?" "It is a despicable realm. " "What!--to command--to win--to bow to your worship--the greatest, andthe highest, and the sternest; to own slaves in those whom men recogniseas their lords! Is such a power despicable? If so, what power is to beenvied?" Lady Florence turned quickly round to Maltravers, and fixed on him herlarge dark eyes, as if she would read into his very heart. She turnedaway with a blush and a slight frown--"There is mockery on your lip, "said she. Before Maltravers could answer, dinner was announced, and a foreignambassador claimed the hand of Lady Florence. Maltravers saw a younglady with gold oats in her very light hair, fall to his lot, anddescended to the dining-room, thinking more of Lady Florence Lascellesthan he had ever done before. He happened to sit nearly opposite to the young mistress of the house(Lord Saxingham, as the reader knows, was a widower and Lady Florence anonly child); and Maltravers was that day in one of those felicitousmoods in which our animal spirits search and carry up, as it were, tothe surface, our intellectual gifts and acquisitions. He conversedgenerally and happily; but once, when he turned his eyes to appeal toLady Florence for her opinion on some point in discussion, he caught hergaze fixed upon him with an expression that checked the current of hisgaiety, and cast him into a curious and bewildered reverie. In thatgaze there was earnest and cordial admiration; but it was mixed with somuch mournfulness, that the admiration lost its eloquence, and he whonoticed it was rather saddened than flattered. After dinner, when Maltravers sought the drawing-rooms, he found themfilled with the customary snob of good society. In one corner hediscovered Castruccio Cesarini, playing on a guitar, slung across hisbreast with a blue riband. The Italian sang well; many young ladieswere grouped round him, amongst others Florence Lascelles. Maltravers, fond as he was of music, looked upon Castruccio's performance as adisagreeable exhibition. He had a Quixotic idea of the dignity oftalent; and though himself of a musical science, and a melody of voicethat would have thrown the room into ecstasies, he would as soon haveturned juggler or tumbler for polite amusement, as contend for thebravos of a drawing-room. It was because he was one of the proudest menin the world, that Maltravers was one of the least /vain/. He did notcare a rush for applause in small things. But Cesarini would havesummoned the whole world to see him play at push-pin, if he thought theplayed it well. "Beautiful! divine! charming!" cried the young ladies, as Cesariniceased; and Maltravers observed that Florence praised more earnestlythan the rest, and that Cesarini's dark eye sparkled, and his pale cheekflushed with unwonted brilliancy. Florence turned to Maltravers, andthe Italian, following her eyes, frowned darkly. "You know the Signor Cesarini, " said Florence, joining Maltravers. "Heis an interesting and gifted person. " "Unquestionably. I grieve to see him wasting his talents upon a soilthat may yield a few short-lived flowers, without one useful plant orproductive fruit. " "He enjoys the passing hour, Mr. Maltravers; and sometimes, when I seethe mortifications that await sterner labour, I think he is right. " "Hush!" said Maltravers; "his eyes are on us--he is listeningbreathlessly for every word you utter. I fear that you have made anunconscious conquest of a poet's heart; and if so, he purchases theenjoyment of the passing hour at a fearful price. " "Nay, " said Lady Florence, indifferently, "he is one of those to whomthe fancy supplies the place of the heart. And if I give him aninspiration, it will be an equal luxury to him whether his lyre bestrung to hope or disappointment. The sweetness of his verses willcompensate to him for any bitterness in actual life. " "There are two kinds of love, " answered Maltravers, --"love andself-love; the wounds of the last are often most incurable in those whoappear least vulnerable to the first. Ah, Lady Florence, were Iprivileged to play the monitor, I would venture on one warning, howevermuch it might offend yon. " "And that is--" "To forbear coquetry. " Maltravers smiled as he spoke, but it was gravely--and at the same timehe moved gently away. But Lady Florence laid her hand on his arm. "Mr. Maltravers, " said she, very softly, and with a kind of faltering inher tone, "am I wrong to say that I am anxious for your good opinion?Do not judge me harshly. I am soured, discontented, unhappy. I have nosympathy with the world. These men whom I see around me--what are they?the mass of them unfeeling and silken egotists--ill-judging, ill-educated, well-dressed: the few who are called distinguished--howselfish in their ambition, how passionless in their pursuits! Am I tobe blamed if I sometimes exert a power over such as these, which ratherproves my scorn of them than my own vanity?" "I have no right to argue with you. " "Yes, argue with me, convince me, guide me--Heaven knows that, impetuousand haughty as I am, I need a guide, "--and Lady Florence's eyes swamwith tears. Ernest's prejudices against her were greatly shaken: he waseven somewhat dazzled by her beauty, and touched by her unexpectedgentleness; but still, his heart was not assailed, and he replied almostcoldly, after a short pause: "Dear Lady Florence, look round the world--who so much to be envied asyourself? What sources of happiness and pride are open to you! Why, then, make to yourself causes of discontent?--why be scornful of thosewho cross not your path? Why not look with charity upon God's lessendowed children, beneath you as they may seem? What consolation haveyou in hurting the hearts or the vanities of others? Do you raiseyourself even in your own estimation? You affect to be above yoursex--yet what character do you despise more in women than that which youassume? Semiramis should not be a coquette. There now, I have offendedyou--I confess I am very rude. " "I am not offended, " said Florence, almost struggling with her tears;and she added inly, "Ah, I am too happy!"--There are some lips fromwhich even the proudest women love to hear the censure which appears todisprove indifference. It was at this time that Lumley Ferrers, flushed with the success of hisschemes and projects, entered the room; and his quick eye fell upon thatcorner, in which he detected what appeared to him a very alarmingflirtation between his rich cousin and Ernest Maltravers. He advancedto the spot, and, with his customary frankness, extended a hand to each. "Ah, my dear and fair cousin, give me your congratulations, and ask mefor my first frank, to be bound up in a collection of autographs bydistinguished senators--it will sell high one of these days. Your mostobedient, Mr. Maltravers;--how we shall laugh in our sleeves at thehumbug of politics, when you and I, the best friends in the world, sit/vis-a-vis/ on opposite benches. But why, Lady Florence, have you neverintroduced me to your pet Italian? /Allons/! I am his match inAlfieri, whom, of course, he swears by, and whose verses, by the way, seem cut out of box-wood--the hardest material for turning off that sortof machinery that invention ever hit on. " Thus saying, Ferrers contrived, as he thought, very cleverly, to dividea pair that he much feared were justly formed to meet by nature--and, tohis great joy, Maltravers shortly afterwards withdrew. Ferrers, with the happy ease that belonged to his complacent, thoughplotting character, soon made Cesarini at home with him; and two orthree slighting expressions which the former dropped with respect toMaltravers, coupled with some outrageous compliments to the Italian, completely won the heart of the poet. The brilliant Florence was moresilent and subdued than usual; and her voice was softer, though graver, when she replied to Castruccio's eloquent appeals. Castruccio was oneof those men who /talk fine/. By degrees, Lumley lapsed into silence, and listened to what took place between Lady Florence and the Italian, while appearing to be deep in "The Views of the Rhine, " which lay on thetable. "Ah, " said the latter, in his soft native tongue, "could you know how Iwatch every shade of that countenance which makes my heaven! Is itclouded? night is with me!--is it radiant? I am as the Persian gazing onthe sun!" "Why do you speak thus to me? were you not a poet, I might be angry. " "You were not angry when the English poet, that cold Maltravers, spoketo you perhaps as boldly. " Lady Florence drew up her haughty head. "Signor, " said she, checking, however, her first impulse, and with mildness, "Mr. Maltravers neitherflatters nor--" "Presumes, you were about to say, " said Cesarini, grinding his teeth. "But it is well--once you were less chilling to the utterance of my deepdevotion. " "Never, Signor Cesarini, never--but when I thought it was but the commongallantry of your nation: let me think so still. " "No, proud woman, " said Cesarini, fiercely, "no--hear the truth. " Lady Florence rose indignantly. "Hear me, " he continued. "I--I, the poor foreigner, the despisedminstrel, dare to lift up my eyes to you! I love you!" Never had Florence Lascelles been so humiliated and confounded. Howevershe might have amused herself with the vanity of Cesarini, she had notgiven him, as she thought, the warrant to address her--the great LadyFlorence, the prize of dukes and princes--in this hardy manner; shealmost fancied him insane. But the next moment she recalled the warningof Maltravers, and felt as if her punishment had commenced. "You will think and speak more calmly, sir, when we meet again, " and sosaying, she swept away. Cesarini remained rooted to the spot, with his dark countenanceexpressing such passions as are rarely seen in the aspects of civilisedmen. "Where do you lodge, Signor Cesarini?" asked the bland, familiar voiceof Ferrers. "Let us walk part of the way together--that is, when youare tired of these hot rooms. " Cesarini groaned. "You are ill, " continued Ferrers; "the air willrevive you--come. " He glided from the room, and the Italianmechanically followed him. They walked together for some moments insilence, side by side, in a clear, lovely, moonlight night. At lengthFerrers said, "Pardon me, my dear signor, but you may already haveobserved that I am a very frank, odd sort of fellow. I see you arecaught by the charms of my cruel cousin. Can I serve you in any way?" A man at all acquainted with the world in which we live would have beensuspicious of such cordiality in the cousin of an heiress, towards avery unsuitable aspirant. But Cesarini, like many indifferent poets(but like few good ones), had no common sense. He thought it quitenatural that a man who admired his poetry so much as Lumley had declaredhe did, should take a lively interest in his welfare; and he thereforereplied warmly, "Oh, sir, this is indeed a crushing blow: I dreamed sheloved me. She was ever flattering and gentle when she spoke to me, andin verse already I had told her of my love, and met with no rebuke. " "Did your verses really and plainly declare love, and in your ownperson?" "Why, the sentiment was veiled, perhaps--put into the mouth of afictitious character, or conveyed in an allegory. " "Oh, " ejaculated Ferrers, thinking it very likely that the gorgeousFlorence, hymned by a thousand bards, had done little more than cast aglance over the lines that had cost poor Cesarini such anxious toil, andinspired him with such daring hope. "Oh!--and to-night she was moresevere--she is a terrible coquette, /la belle Florence/! But perhapsyou have a rival. " "I feel it--I saw it--I know it. " "Whom do you suspect?" "That accursed Maltravers! He crosses me in every path--my spiritquails beneath his whenever we encounter. I read my doom. " "If it be Maltravers, " said Ferrers, gravely, "the danger cannot begreat. Florence has seen but little of him, and he does not admire hermuch; but she is a great match, and he is ambitious. We must guardagainst this betimes, Cesarini--for know that I dislike Maltravers asmuch as you do, and will cheerfully aid you in any plan to blight hishopes in that quarter. " "Generous, noble friend!--yet he is richer, better-born than I. " "That may be: but to one in Lady Florence's position, all minor gradesof rank in her aspirants seem pretty well levelled. Come, I don't tellyou that I would not sooner she married a countryman and an equal--but Ihave taken a liking to you, and I detest Maltravers. She is veryromantic--fond of poetry to a passion--writes it herself, I fancy. Oh, you'll just suit her; but, alas! how will you see her?" "See her! What mean you?" "Why, have you not declared love to-night? I thought I overheard you. Can you for a moment fancy that, after such an avowal, Lady Florencewill again receive you--that is, if she mean to reject your suit?" "Fool that I was! But no--she must, she shall. " "Be persuaded; in this country violence will not do. Take my advice, write an humble apology, confess your fault, invoke her pity; and, declaring that you renounce for ever the character of a lover, implorestill to be acknowledged as a friend. Be quiet now, hear me out; I amolder than you; I know my cousin; this will pique her; your modesty willsoothe, while your coldness will arouse, her vanity. Meanwhile you willwatch the progress of Maltravers; I will be by your elbow; and betweenus, to use a homely phrase, we will do for him. Then you may have youropportunity, clear stage, and fair play. " Cesarini was at first rebellious; but, at length, even he saw the policyof the advice. But Lumley would not leave him till the advice wasadopted. He made Castruccio accompany him to a club, dictated theletter to Florence, and undertook its charge. This was not all. "It is also necessary, " said Lumley, after a short but thoughtfulsilence, "that you should write to Maltravers. " "And for what?" "I have my reasons. Ask him, in a frank and friendly spirit, hisopinion of Lady Florence; state your belief that she loves you, andinquire ingenuously what he thinks your chances of happiness in such aunion. " "But why this?" "His answer may be useful, " returned Lumley, musingly. "Stay, I willdictate the letter. " Cesarini wondered and hesitated, but there was that about Lumley Ferrerswhich had already obtained command over the weak and passionate poet. He wrote, therefore, as Lumley dictated, beginning with some commonplacedoubts as to the happiness of marriage in general, excusing himself forhis recent coldness towards Maltravers, and asking him his confidentialopinion both as to Lady Florence's character and his own chances ofsuccess. This letter, like the former one, Lumley sealed and despatched. "You perceive, " he then said, briefly, to Cesarini, "that it is theobject of this letter to entrap Maltravers into some plain and honestavowal of his dislike to Lady Florence; we may make good use of suchexpressions hereafter, if he should ever prove a rival. And now go hometo rest: you look exhausted. Adieu, my new friend. " "I have long had a presentiment, " said Lumley to his councillor SELF, ashe walked to Great George Street, "that that wild girl has conceived aromantic fancy for Maltravers. But I can easily prevent such anaccident ripening into misfortune. Meanwhile, I have secured a tool, ifI want one. By Jove, what an ass that poet is! But so was Cassio; yetIago made use of him. If Iago had been born now, and dropped thatfoolish fancy for revenge, what a glorious fellow he would have been!Prime minister at least!" Pale, haggard, exhausted, Castruccio Cesarini, traversing a length ofway, arrived at last at a miserable lodging in the suburb of Chelsea. His fortune was now gone; gone in supplying the poorest food to acraving and imbecile vanity: gone, that its owner might seem what naturenever meant him for: the elegant Lothario, the graceful man of pleasure, the troubadour of modern life! gone in horses, and jewels, and fineclothes, and gaming, and printing unsaleable poems on gilt-edged vellum;gone, that he might not be a greater but a more fashionable man thanErnest Maltravers! Such is the common destiny of those poor adventurerswho confine fame to boudoirs and saloons. No matter whether they bepoets or dandies, wealthy /parvenus/ or aristocratic cadets, all equallyprove the adage that the wrong paths to reputation are strewed with thewrecks of peace, fortune, happiness, and too often honour! And yet thispoor young man had dared to hope for the hand of Florence Lascelles! Hehad the common notion of foreigners, that English girls marry for love, are very romantic; that, within the three seas, heiresses are asplentiful as blackberries; and for the rest, his vanity had been sopampered, that it now insinuated itself into every fibre of hisintellectual and moral system. Cesarini looked cautiously round, as he arrived at his door; for hefancied that, even in that obscure place, persons might be anxious tocatch a glimpse of the celebrated poet; and he concealed his residencefrom all; dined on a roll when he did not dine out, and left his addressat "The Travellers. " He looked round, I say, and he did observe a tallfigure wrapped in a cloak that had indeed followed him from a distantand more populous part of the town. But the figure turned round, andvanished instantly. Cesarini mounted to his second floor. And aboutthe middle of the next day a messenger left a letter at his door, containing one hundred pounds in a blank envelope. Cesarini knew notthe writing of the address; his pride was deeply wounded. Amidst allhis penury, he had not even applied to his own sister. Could it comefrom her, from De Montaigne? He was lost in conjecture. He put theremittance aside for a few days; for he had something fine in him, thepoor poet! but bills grew pressing, and necessity hath no law. Two days afterwards, Cesarini brought to Ferrers the answer he hadreceived from Maltravers. Lumley had rightly foreseen that the highspirit of Ernest would conceive some indignation at the coquetry ofFlorence in beguiling the Italian into hopes never to be realised, andthat he would express himself openly and warmly. He did so, however, with more gentleness than Lumley had anticipated. "This is not exactly the thing, " said Ferrers, after twice reading theletter; "still it may hereafter be a strong card in our hands--we willkeep it. " So saying, he locked the letter up in his desk, and Cesarini soon forgotits existence. CHAPTER V. "She was a phantom of delight, When first she gleamed upon my sight: A lovely apparition sent To be a moment's ornament. "--WORDSWORTH. MALTRAVERS did not see Lady Florence again for some weeks; meanwhile, Lumley Ferrers made his /debut/ in parliament. Rigidly adhering to hisplan of acting on a deliberate system, and not prone to overratehimself, Mr. Ferrers did not, like most promising new members, try thehazardous ordeal of a great first speech. Though bold, fluent, andready, he was not eloquent; and he knew that on great occasions, whengreat speeches are wanted, great guns like to have the fire tothemselves. Neither did he split upon the opposite rock of "promisingyoung men, " who stick to "the business of the house" like leeches, andquibble on details; in return for which labour they are generally votedbores, who can never do anything remarkable. But he spoke frequently, shortly, courageously, and with a strong dash of good-humouredpersonality. He was the man whom a minister could get to say somethingwhich other people did not like to say: and he did so with a frankfearlessness that carried off any seeming violation of good taste. Hesoon became a very popular speaker in the parliamentary clique;especially with the gentlemen who crowd the bar, and never want to hearthe argument of the debate. Between him and Maltravers a visiblecoldness now existed; for the latter looked upon his old friend (whoseprinciples of logic led him even to republicanism, and who had beenaccustomed to accuse Ernest of temporising with plain truths, if hedemurred to their application to artificial states of society) as acold-blooded and hypocritical adventurer; while Ferrers, seeing thatErnest could now be of no further use to him, was willing enough to dropa profitless intimacy. Nay, he thought it would be wise to pick aquarrel with him, if possible, as the best means of banishing a supposedrival from the house of his noble relation, Lord Saxingham. But noopportunity for that step presented itself; so Lumley kept a fit ofconvenient rudeness, or an impromptu sarcasm, in reserve, if ever itshould be wanted. The season and the session were alike drawing to a close, whenMaltravers received a pressing invitation from Cleveland to spend a weekat his villa, which he assured Ernest would be full of agreeable people;and as all business productive of debate or division was over, Maltravers was glad to obtain fresh air, and a change of scene. Accordingly, he sent down his luggage and favourite books, and oneafternoon in early August rode alone towards Temple Grove. He was muchdissatisfied, perhaps disappointed, with his experience of public life;and with his high-wrought and over-refining views of the deficiencies ofothers more prominent, he was in a humour to mingle also censure ofhimself, for having yielded too much to the doubts and scruples thatoften, in the early part of their career, beset the honest and sincere, in the turbulent whirl of politics, and ever tend to make the robusthues that should belong to action "Sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought. " His mind was working its way slowly towards those conclusions, whichsometimes ripen the best practical men out of the most exaltedtheorists, and perhaps he saw before him the pleasing prospectflatteringly exhibited to another, when he complained of being toohonest for party, viz. , "of becoming a very pretty rascal in time!" For several weeks he had not heard from his unknown correspondent, andthe time was come when he missed those letters, now continued for morethan two years; and which, in their eloquent mixture of complaint, exhortation, despondent gloom and declamatory enthusiasm, had oftensoothed him in dejection, and made him more sensible of triumph. Whilerevolving in his mind thoughts connected with these subjects--and, somehow or other, with his more ambitious reveries were always mingledmusings of curiosity respecting his correspondent--he was struck by thebeauty of a little girl, of about eleven years old, who was walking witha female attendant on the footpath that skirted the road. I said thathe was struck by her beauty, but that is a wrong expression; it wasrather the charm of her countenance than the perfection of her featureswhich arrested the gaze of Maltravers--a charm that might not haveexisted for others, but was inexpressibly attractive to him, and was somuch apart from the vulgar fascination of mere beauty, that it wouldhave equally touched a chord at his heart, if coupled with homelyfeatures or a bloomless cheek. This charm was in a wonderful innocentand dove-like softness of expression. We all form to ourselves some/beau-ideal/ of the "fair spirit" we desire as our earthly "minister, "and somewhat capriciously gauge and proportion our admiration of livingshapes according as the /beau-ideal/ is more or less embodied orapproached. Beauty, of a stamp that is not familiar to the dreams ofour fancy, may win the cold homage of our judgment, while a look, afeature, a something that realises and calls up a boyish vision, andassimilates even distantly to the picture we wear within us, has aloveliness peculiar to our eyes, and kindles an emotion that almostseems to belong to memory. It is this which the Platonists felt whenthey wildly supposed that souls attracted to each other on earth hadbeen united in an earlier being and a diviner sphere; and there was inthe young face on which Ernest gazed precisely this ineffable harmonywith his preconceived notions of the beautiful. Many a nightly andnoonday reverie was realised in those mild yet smiling eyes of thedarkest blue; in that ingenuous breadth of brow, with itsslightly-pencilled arches, and the nose, not cut in that sharp and clearsymmetry which looks so lovely in marble, but usually gives to flesh andblood a decided and hard character, that better becomes the sterner thanthe gentler sex--no; not moulded in the pure Grecian, nor in the pureRoman, cast; but small, delicate, with the least possible inclination toturn upward, that was only to be detected in one position of the head, and served to give a prettier archness to the sweet flexile lips, which, from the gentleness of their repose, seemed to smile unconsciously, butrather from a happy constitutional serenity than from the giddiness ofmirth. Such was the character of this fair child's countenance, onwhich Maltravers turned and gazed involuntarily and reverently, withsomething of the admiring delight with which we look upon the Virgin ofa Rafaele, or the sunset landscape of a Claude. The girl did not appearto feel any premature coquetry at the evident, though respectfuladmiration she excited. She met the eyes bent upon her, brilliant andeloquent as they were, with a fearless and unsuspecting gaze, andpointed out to her companion, with all a child's quick and unrestrainedimpulse, the shining and raven gloss, the arched and haughty neck, ofErnest's beautiful Arabian. Now there happened between Maltravers and the young object of hisadmiration a little adventure, which served, perhaps, to fix in herrecollection this short encounter with a stranger; for certain it isthat, years after, she did remember both the circumstances of theadventure and the features of Maltravers. She wore one of those largestraw-hats which look so pretty upon children, and the warmth of the daymade her untie the strings which confined it. A gentle breeze arose, asby a turn in the road the country became more open, and suddenly waftedthe hat from its proper post, almost to the hoofs of Ernest's horse. The child naturally made a spring forward to arrest the deserter, andher foot slipped down the bank, which was rather steeply raised abovethe road. She uttered a low cry of pain. To dismount--to regain theprize--and to restore it to its owner, was, with Ernest, the work of amoment; the poor girl had twisted her ankle and was leaning upon herservant for support. But when she saw the anxiety, and almost thealarm, upon the stranger's face (and her exclamation of pain hadliterally thrilled his heart--so much and so unaccountably had sheexcited his interest), she made an effort at self-control, not common ather years, and, with a forced smile, assured him she was not muchhurt--that it was nothing--that she was just at home. "Oh, miss!" said the servant, "I am sure you are very bad. Dear heart, how angry master will be! It was not my fault; was it, sir?" "Oh, no, it was not your fault, Margaret; don't be frightened--papasha'n't blame you. But I'm much better now. " So saying, she tried towalk; but the effort was in vain--she turned yet more pale, and thoughshe struggled to prevent a shriek, the tears rolled down her cheeks. It was very odd, but Maltravers had never felt more touched--the tearsstood in his own eyes; he longed to carry her in his arms, but, child asshe was, a strange kind of nervous timidity forbade him. Margaret, perhaps, expected it of him, for she looked hard in his face, before sheattempted a burthen to which, being a small, slight person, she was byno means equal. However, after a pause, she took up her charge, who, ashamed of her tears, and almost overcome with pain, nestled her head inthe woman's bosom, and Maltravers walked by her side, while his docileand well-trained horse followed at a distance, every now and thenputting its fore-legs on the bank and cropping away a mouthful of leavesfrom the hedge-row. "Oh, Margaret!" said the little sufferer, "I cannot bear it--indeed Icannot. " And Maltravers observed that Margaret had permitted the lame foot tohang down unsupported, so that the pain must indeed have been scarcelybearable. He could restrain himself no longer. "You are not strong enough to carry her, " said he, sharply, to theservant; and the next moment the child was in his arms. Oh, with whatanxious tenderness he bore her! and he was so happy when she turned herface to him and smiled, and told him she now scarcely felt the pain. Ifit were possible to be in love with a child of eleven years old, Maltravers was almost in love. His pulses trembled as he felt her purebreath on his cheek, and her rich beautiful hair was waved by the breezeacross his lips. He hushed his voice to a whisper as he poured forthall the soothing and comforting expressions which give a naturaleloquence to persons fond of children--and Ernest Maltravers was theidol of children;--he understood and sympathised with them; he had agreat deal of the child himself, beneath the rough and cold husk of hisproud reserve. At length they came to a lodge, and Margaret eagerlyinquiring "whether master and missus were at home, " seemed delighted tohear they were not. Ernest, however, insisted on bearing his chargeacross the lawn to the house, which, like most suburban villas, was buta stone's throw from the lodge; and, receiving the most positive promisethat surgical advice should be immediately sent for, he was forced tocontent himself with laying the sufferer on a sofa in the drawing-room;and she thanked him so prettily, and assured him she was so much easier, that he would have given the world to kiss her. The child had completedher conquest over him by being above the child's ordinary littleness ofmaking the worst of things, in order to obtain the consequence anddignity of being pitied;--she was evidently unselfish and consideratefor others. He did kiss her, but it was the hand that he kissed, and nocavalier ever kissed his lady's hand with more respect; and then, forthe first time, the child blushed--then, for the first time, she felt asif the day would come when she should be a child no longer! Why wasthis?--perhaps because it is an era in life--the first sign of atenderness that inspires respect, not familiarity! "If ever again I could be in love, " said Maltravers, as he spurred onhis road, "I really think it would be with that exquisite child. Myfeeling is more like that of love at first sight than any emotion whichbeauty ever caused in me. Alice--Valerie--no; the /first/ sight of themdid not:--but what folly is this--a child of eleven--and I verging uponthirty!" Still, however, folly as it might be, the image of that young girlhaunted Maltravers for many days; till change of scene, the distractionsof society, the grave thoughts of manhood, and, above all, a series ofexciting circumstances about to be narrated, gradually obliterated astrange and most delightful impression. He had learned, however, thatMr. Templeton was the proprietor of the villa, which was the child'shome. He wrote to Ferrers to narrate the incident, and to inquire afterthe sufferer. In due time he heard from that gentleman that the childwas recovered, and gone with Mr. And Mrs. Templeton to Brighton, forchange of air and sea-bathing.