No More Learning

Poor Reginald was beyond measure concerned to see his fair friend in
such distress, and watched her with so much tender solicitude, that I,
who occasionally caught her observing his countenance with exultation,
was quite out of patience. This pathetic representation lasted the whole
evening, and so ostentatious and artful a display has entirely convinced
me that she did in fact feel nothing. I am more angry with her than ever
since I have seen her daughter; the poor girl looks so unhappy that my
heart aches for her. Lady Susan is surely too severe, for Frederica
does not seem to have the sort of temper to make severity necessary.
She looks perfectly timid, dejected, and penitent. She is very
pretty, though not so handsome as her mother, nor at all like her. Her
complexion is delicate, but neither so fair nor so blooming as Lady
Susan's, and she has quite the Vernon cast of countenance, the oval face
and mild dark eyes, and there is peculiar sweetness in her look when she
speaks either to her uncle or me, for as we behave kindly to her we have
of course engaged her gratitude.

Her mother has insinuated that her temper is intractable, but I never
saw a face less indicative of any evil disposition than hers; and from
what I can see of the behaviour of each to the other, the invariable
severity of Lady Susan and the silent dejection of Frederica, I am
led to believe as heretofore that the former has no real love for her
daughter, and has never done her justice or treated her affectionately.
I have not been able to have any conversation with my niece; she is shy,
and I think I can see that some pains are taken to prevent her being
much with me. Nothing satisfactory transpires as to her reason for
running away. Her kind-hearted uncle, you may be sure, was too fearful
of distressing her to ask many questions as they travelled. I wish it
had been possible for me to fetch her instead of him. I think I should
have discovered the truth in the course of a thirty-mile journey. The
small pianoforte has been removed within these few days, at Lady Susan's
request, into her dressing-room, and Frederica spends great part of the
day there, practising as it is called; but I seldom hear any noise when
I pass that way; what she does with herself there I do not know. There
are plenty of books, but it is not every girl who has been running
wild the first fifteen years of her life, that can or will read. Poor
creature! the prospect from her window is not very instructive, for that
room overlooks the lawn, you know, with the shrubbery on one side,
where she may see her mother walking for an hour together in earnest
conversation with Reginald. A girl of Frederica's age must be childish
indeed, if such things do not strike her. Is it not inexcusable to give
such an example to a daughter? Yet Reginald still thinks Lady Susan the
best of mothers, and still condemns Frederica as a worthless girl! He
is convinced that her attempt to run away proceeded from no, justifiable
cause, and had no provocation. I am sure I cannot say that it HAD,
but while Miss Summers declares that Miss Vernon showed no signs of
obstinacy or perverseness during her whole stay in Wigmore Street, till
she was detected in this scheme, I cannot so readily credit what Lady
Susan has made him, and wants to make me believe, that it was merely
an impatience of restraint and a desire of escaping from the tuition of
masters which brought on the plan of an elopement. O Reginald, how is
your judgment enslaved! He scarcely dares even allow her to be handsome,
and when I speak of her beauty, replies only that her eyes have no
brilliancy! Sometimes he is sure she is deficient in understanding, and
at others that her temper only is in fault. In short, when a person is
always to deceive, it is impossible to be consistent. Lady Susan
finds it necessary that Frederica should be to blame, and probably has
sometimes judged it expedient to excuse her of ill-nature and sometimes
to lament her want of sense. Reginald is only repeating after her
ladyship.

I remain, &c. , &c. ,

CATHERINE VERNON.





XVIII


FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME


Churchhill.


My dear Mother,--I am very glad to find that my description of Frederica
Vernon has interested you, for I do believe her truly deserving of your
regard; and when I have communicated a notion which has recently struck
me, your kind impressions in her favour will, I am sure, be heightened.
I cannot help fancying that she is growing partial to my brother. I so
very often see her eyes fixed on his face with a remarkable expression
of pensive admiration. He is certainly very handsome; and yet more,
there is an openness in his manner that must be highly prepossessing,
and I am sure she feels it so. Thoughtful and pensive in general, her
countenance always brightens into a smile when Reginald says anything
amusing; and, let the subject be ever so serious that he may be
conversing on, I am much mistaken if a syllable of his uttering escapes
her. I want to make him sensible of all this, for we know the power
of gratitude on such a heart as his; and could Frederica's artless
affection detach him from her mother, we might bless the day which
brought her to Churchhill. I think, my dear mother, you would not
disapprove of her as a daughter. She is extremely young, to be sure,
has had a wretched education, and a dreadful example of levity in her
mother; but yet I can pronounce her disposition to be excellent, and her
natural abilities very good. Though totally without accomplishments, she
is by no means so ignorant as one might expect to find her, being fond
of books and spending the chief of her time in reading. Her mother
leaves her more to herself than she did, and I have her with me as much
as possible, and have taken great pains to overcome her timidity. We
are very good friends, and though she never opens her lips before her
mother, she talks enough when alone with me to make it clear that, if
properly treated by Lady Susan, she would always appear to much greater
advantage. There cannot be a more gentle, affectionate heart; or more
obliging manners, when acting without restraint; and her little cousins
are all very fond of her.

Your affectionate daughter,

C. VERNON





XIX


LADY SUSAN TO MRS. JOHNSON


Churchhill.


You will be eager, I know, to hear something further of Frederica, and
perhaps may think me negligent for not writing before. She arrived with
her uncle last Thursday fortnight, when, of course, I lost no time in
demanding the cause of her behaviour; and soon found myself to have been
perfectly right in attributing it to my own letter. The prospect of
it frightened her so thoroughly, that, with a mixture of true girlish
perverseness and folly, she resolved on getting out of the house and
proceeding directly by the stage to her friends, the Clarkes; and had
really got as far as the length of two streets in her journey when
she was fortunately missed, pursued, and overtaken. Such was the first
distinguished exploit of Miss Frederica Vernon; and, if we consider that
it was achieved at the tender age of sixteen, we shall have room for
the most flattering prognostics of her future renown. I am excessively
provoked, however, at the parade of propriety which prevented Miss
Summers from keeping the girl; and it seems so extraordinary a piece of
nicety, considering my daughter's family connections, that I can only
suppose the lady to be governed by the fear of never getting her money.
Be that as it may, however, Frederica is returned on my hands; and,
having nothing else to employ her, is busy in pursuing the plan of
romance begun at Langford. She is actually falling in love with Reginald
De Courcy! To disobey her mother by refusing an unexceptionable offer
is not enough; her affections must also be given without her mother's
approbation. I never saw a girl of her age bid fairer to be the sport
of mankind. Her feelings are tolerably acute, and she is so charmingly
artless in their display as to afford the most reasonable hope of her
being ridiculous, and despised by every man who sees her.

Artlessness will never do in love matters; and that girl is born a
simpleton who has it either by nature or affectation. I am not yet
certain that Reginald sees what she is about, nor is it of much
consequence. She is now an object of indifference to him, and she would
be one of contempt were he to understand her emotions. Her beauty is
much admired by the Vernons, but it has no effect on him. She is in high
favour with her aunt altogether, because she is so little like myself,
of course. She is exactly the companion for Mrs. Vernon, who dearly
loves to be firm, and to have all the sense and all the wit of the
conversation to herself: Frederica will never eclipse her. When she
first came I was at some pains to prevent her seeing much of her aunt;
but I have relaxed, as I believe I may depend on her observing the rules
I have laid down for their discourse. But do not imagine that with all
this lenity I have for a moment given up my plan of her marriage. No; I
am unalterably fixed on this point, though I have not yet quite decided
on the manner of bringing it about. I should not chuse to have the
business brought on here, and canvassed by the wise heads of Mr. and
Mrs. Vernon; and I cannot just now afford to go to town. Miss Frederica
must therefore wait a little.

Yours ever,

S. VERNON.





XX


MRS. VERNON TO LADY DE COURCY


Churchhill


We have a very unexpected guest with us at present, my dear Mother: he
arrived yesterday. I heard a carriage at the door, as I was sitting with
my children while they dined; and supposing I should be wanted, left the
nursery soon afterwards, and was half-way downstairs, when Frederica,
as pale as ashes, came running up, and rushed by me into her own room.
I instantly followed, and asked her what was the matter. "Oh! " said
she, "he is come--Sir James is come, and what shall I do? " This was no
explanation; I begged her to tell me what she meant. At that moment we
were interrupted by a knock at the door: it was Reginald, who came, by
Lady Susan's direction, to call Frederica down. "It is Mr. De Courcy! "
said she, colouring violently. "Mamma has sent for me; I must go. "
We all three went down together; and I saw my brother examining the
terrified face of Frederica with surprize. In the breakfast-room we
found Lady Susan, and a young man of gentlemanlike appearance, whom she
introduced by the name of Sir James Martin--the very person, as you may
remember, whom it was said she had been at pains to detach from Miss
Mainwaring; but the conquest, it seems, was not designed for herself,
or she has since transferred it to her daughter; for Sir James is now
desperately in love with Frederica, and with full encouragement from
mamma. The poor girl, however, I am sure, dislikes him; and though his
person and address are very well, he appears, both to Mr. Vernon and
me, a very weak young man. Frederica looked so shy, so confused, when
we entered the room, that I felt for her exceedingly. Lady Susan behaved
with great attention to her visitor; and yet I thought I could perceive
that she had no particular pleasure in seeing him. Sir James talked a
great deal, and made many civil excuses to me for the liberty he had
taken in coming to Churchhill--mixing more frequent laughter with his
discourse than the subject required--said many things over and over
again, and told Lady Susan three times that he had seen Mrs. Johnson
a few evenings before. He now and then addressed Frederica, but more
frequently her mother. The poor girl sat all this time without opening
her lips--her eyes cast down, and her colour varying every instant;
while Reginald observed all that passed in perfect silence. At length
Lady Susan, weary, I believe, of her situation, proposed walking; and
we left the two gentlemen together, to put on our pelisses. As we went
upstairs Lady Susan begged permission to attend me for a few moments in
my dressing-room, as she was anxious to speak with me in private. I led
her thither accordingly, and as soon as the door was closed, she said:
"I was never more surprized in my life than by Sir James's arrival,
and the suddenness of it requires some apology to you, my dear sister;
though to ME, as a mother, it is highly flattering. He is so extremely
attached to my daughter that he could not exist longer without seeing
her. Sir James is a young man of an amiable disposition and excellent
character; a little too much of the rattle, perhaps, but a year or two
will rectify THAT: and he is in other respects so very eligible a match
for Frederica, that I have always observed his attachment with the
greatest pleasure; and am persuaded that you and my brother will give
the alliance your hearty approbation. I have never before mentioned the
likelihood of its taking place to anyone, because I thought that whilst
Frederica continued at school it had better not be known to exist;
but now, as I am convinced that Frederica is too old ever to submit to
school confinement, and have, therefore, begun to consider her union
with Sir James as not very distant, I had intended within a few days to
acquaint yourself and Mr. Vernon with the whole business. I am sure, my
dear sister, you will excuse my remaining silent so long, and agree
with me that such circumstances, while they continue from any cause
in suspense, cannot be too cautiously concealed. When you have the
happiness of bestowing your sweet little Catherine, some years hence, on
a man who in connection and character is alike unexceptionable, you
will know what I feel now; though, thank Heaven, you cannot have all my
reasons for rejoicing in such an event. Catherine will be amply provided
for, and not, like my Frederica, indebted to a fortunate
establishment for the comforts of life. " She concluded by demanding
my congratulations. I gave them somewhat awkwardly, I believe; for, in
fact, the sudden disclosure of so important a matter took from me the
power of speaking with any clearness. She thanked me, however, most
affectionately, for my kind concern in the welfare of herself and
daughter; and then said: "I am not apt to deal in professions, my
dear Mrs. Vernon, and I never had the convenient talent of affecting
sensations foreign to my heart; and therefore I trust you will believe
me when I declare, that much as I had heard in your praise before I knew
you, I had no idea that I should ever love you as I now do; and I
must further say that your friendship towards me is more particularly
gratifying because I have reason to believe that some attempts were made
to prejudice you against me. I only wish that they, whoever they are,
to whom I am indebted for such kind intentions, could see the terms on
which we now are together, and understand the real affection we feel
for each other; but I will not detain you any longer. God bless you, for
your goodness to me and my girl, and continue to you all your present
happiness. " What can one say of such a woman, my dear mother? Such
earnestness such solemnity of expression! and yet I cannot help
suspecting the truth of everything she says. As for Reginald, I believe
he does not know what to make of the matter. When Sir James came, he
appeared all astonishment and perplexity; the folly of the young man and
the confusion of Frederica entirely engrossed him; and though a little
private discourse with Lady Susan has since had its effect, he is still
hurt, I am sure, at her allowing of such a man's attentions to her
daughter. Sir James invited himself with great composure to remain here
a few days--hoped we would not think it odd, was aware of its being very
impertinent, but he took the liberty of a relation; and concluded by
wishing, with a laugh, that he might be really one very soon. Even Lady
Susan seemed a little disconcerted by this forwardness; in her heart I
am persuaded she sincerely wished him gone. But something must be done
for this poor girl, if her feelings are such as both I and her uncle
believe them to be. She must not be sacrificed to policy or ambition,
and she must not be left to suffer from the dread of it. The girl whose
heart can distinguish Reginald De Courcy, deserves, however he may
slight her, a better fate than to be Sir James Martin's wife. As soon
as I can get her alone, I will discover the real truth; but she seems to
wish to avoid me. I hope this does not proceed from anything wrong, and
that I shall not find out I have thought too well of her. Her
behaviour to Sir James certainly speaks the greatest consciousness and
embarrassment, but I see nothing in it more like encouragement. Adieu,
my dear mother.

Yours, &c. ,

C. VERNON.





XXI


MISS VERNON TO MR DE COURCY


Sir,--I hope you will excuse this liberty; I am forced upon it by the
greatest distress, or I should be ashamed to trouble you. I am very
miserable about Sir James Martin, and have no other way in the world of
helping myself but by writing to you, for I am forbidden even speaking
to my uncle and aunt on the subject; and this being the case, I am
afraid my applying to you will appear no better than equivocation, and
as if I attended to the letter and not the spirit of mamma's commands.
But if you do not take my part and persuade her to break it off, I shall
be half distracted, for I cannot bear him. No human being but YOU could
have any chance of prevailing with her. If you will, therefore, have the
unspeakably great kindness of taking my part with her, and persuading
her to send Sir James away, I shall be more obliged to you than it is
possible for me to express. I always disliked him from the first: it is
not a sudden fancy, I assure you, sir; I always thought him silly and
impertinent and disagreeable, and now he is grown worse than ever. I
would rather work for my bread than marry him. I do not know how
to apologize enough for this letter; I know it is taking so great a
liberty. I am aware how dreadfully angry it will make mamma, but I
remember the risk.

I am, Sir, your most humble servant,

F. S. V.





XXII


LADY SUSAN TO MRS. JOHNSON


Churchhill.


This is insufferable! My dearest friend, I was never so enraged before,
and must relieve myself by writing to you, who I know will enter into
all my feelings. Who should come on Tuesday but Sir James Martin! Guess
my astonishment, and vexation--for, as you well know, I never wished him
to be seen at Churchhill. What a pity that you should not have known
his intentions! Not content with coming, he actually invited himself to
remain here a few days. I could have poisoned him! I made the best of
it, however, and told my story with great success to Mrs. Vernon, who,
whatever might be her real sentiments, said nothing in opposition to
mine. I made a point also of Frederica's behaving civilly to Sir James,
and gave her to understand that I was absolutely determined on her
marrying him. She said something of her misery, but that was all. I have
for some time been more particularly resolved on the match from seeing
the rapid increase of her affection for Reginald, and from not feeling
secure that a knowledge of such affection might not in the end awaken
a return. Contemptible as a regard founded only on compassion must make
them both in my eyes, I felt by no means assured that such might not be
the consequence. It is true that Reginald had not in any degree grown
cool towards me; but yet he has lately mentioned Frederica spontaneously
and unnecessarily, and once said something in praise of her person.
HE was all astonishment at the appearance of my visitor, and at first
observed Sir James with an attention which I was pleased to see not
unmixed with jealousy; but unluckily it was impossible for me really
to torment him, as Sir James, though extremely gallant to me, very
soon made the whole party understand that his heart was devoted to my
daughter. I had no great difficulty in convincing De Courcy, when we
were alone, that I was perfectly justified, all things considered,
in desiring the match; and the whole business seemed most comfortably
arranged. They could none of them help perceiving that Sir James was no
Solomon; but I had positively forbidden Frederica complaining to Charles
Vernon or his wife, and they had therefore no pretence for interference;
though my impertinent sister, I believe, wanted only opportunity for
doing so. Everything, however, was going on calmly and quietly; and,
though I counted the hours of Sir James's stay, my mind was entirely
satisfied with the posture of affairs. Guess, then, what I must feel at
the sudden disturbance of all my schemes; and that, too, from a quarter
where I had least reason to expect it. Reginald came this morning into
my dressing-room with a very unusual solemnity of countenance, and after
some preface informed me in so many words that he wished to reason with
me on the impropriety and unkindness of allowing Sir James Martin to
address my daughter contrary to her inclinations. I was all amazement.
When I found that he was not to be laughed out of his design, I calmly
begged an explanation, and desired to know by what he was impelled, and
by whom commissioned, to reprimand me. He then told me, mixing in
his speech a few insolent compliments and ill-timed expressions of
tenderness, to which I listened with perfect indifference, that my
daughter had acquainted him with some circumstances concerning herself,
Sir James, and me which had given him great uneasiness. In short, I
found that she had in the first place actually written to him to request
his interference, and that, on receiving her letter, he had conversed
with her on the subject of it, in order to understand the particulars,
and to assure himself of her real wishes. I have not a doubt but that
the girl took this opportunity of making downright love to him. I am
convinced of it by the manner in which he spoke of her. Much good may
such love do him! I shall ever despise the man who can be gratified by
the passion which he never wished to inspire, nor solicited the avowal
of. I shall always detest them both. He can have no true regard for
me, or he would not have listened to her; and SHE, with her little
rebellious heart and indelicate feelings, to throw herself into the
protection of a young man with whom she has scarcely ever exchanged
two words before! I am equally confounded at HER impudence and HIS
credulity. How dared he believe what she told him in my disfavour! Ought
he not to have felt assured that I must have unanswerable motives for
all that I had done? Where was his reliance on my sense and goodness
then? Where the resentment which true love would have dictated against
the person defaming me--that person, too, a chit, a child, without
talent or education, whom he had been always taught to despise? I
was calm for some time; but the greatest degree of forbearance may be
overcome, and I hope I was afterwards sufficiently keen. He endeavoured,
long endeavoured, to soften my resentment; but that woman is a
fool indeed who, while insulted by accusation, can be worked on by
compliments. At length he left me, as deeply provoked as myself; and
he showed his anger more. I was quite cool, but he gave way to the most
violent indignation; I may therefore expect it will the sooner subside,
and perhaps his may be vanished for ever, while mine will be found still
fresh and implacable. He is now shut up in his apartment, whither I
heard him go on leaving mine. How unpleasant, one would think, must be
his reflections! but some people's feelings are incomprehensible. I have
not yet tranquillised myself enough to see Frederica. SHE shall not soon
forget the occurrences of this day; she shall find that she has poured
forth her tender tale of love in vain, and exposed herself for ever
to the contempt of the whole world, and the severest resentment of her
injured mother.

Your affectionate

S. VERNON.




XXIII


MRS. VERNON TO LADY DE COURCY


Churchhill.


Let me congratulate you, my dearest Mother! The affair which has given
us so much anxiety is drawing to a happy conclusion. Our prospect is
most delightful, and since matters have now taken so favourable a turn,
I am quite sorry that I ever imparted my apprehensions to you; for the
pleasure of learning that the danger is over is perhaps dearly purchased
by all that you have previously suffered. I am so much agitated by
delight that I can scarcely hold a pen; but am determined to send you
a few short lines by James, that you may have some explanation of what
must so greatly astonish you, as that Reginald should be returning to
Parklands. I was sitting about half an hour ago with Sir James in
the breakfast parlour, when my brother called me out of the room. I
instantly saw that something was the matter; his complexion was raised,
and he spoke with great emotion; you know his eager manner, my dear
mother, when his mind is interested. "Catherine," said he, "I am going
home to-day; I am sorry to leave you, but I must go: it is a great while
since I have seen my father and mother. I am going to send James forward
with my hunters immediately; if you have any letter, therefore, he can
take it. I shall not be at home myself till Wednesday or Thursday, as I
shall go through London, where I have business; but before I leave you,"
he continued, speaking in a lower tone, and with still greater energy,
"I must warn you of one thing--do not let Frederica Vernon be made
unhappy by that Martin. He wants to marry her; her mother promotes the
match, but she cannot endure the idea of it.
Be assured that I speak
from the fullest conviction of the truth of what I say; I know that
Frederica is made wretched by Sir James's continuing here. She is a
sweet girl, and deserves a better fate. Send him away immediately; he is
only a fool: but what her mother can mean, Heaven only knows! Good bye,"
he added, shaking my hand with earnestness; "I do not know when you will
see me again; but remember what I tell you of Frederica; you MUST make
it your business to see justice done her. She is an amiable girl, and
has a very superior mind to what we have given her credit for. " He then
left me, and ran upstairs. I would not try to stop him, for I know what
his feelings must be. The nature of mine, as I listened to him, I need
not attempt to describe; for a minute or two I remained in the same
spot, overpowered by wonder of a most agreeable sort indeed; yet it
required some consideration to be tranquilly happy. In about ten minutes
after my return to the parlour Lady Susan entered the room. I concluded,
of course, that she and Reginald had been quarrelling; and looked with
anxious curiosity for a confirmation of my belief in her face. Mistress
of deceit, however, she appeared perfectly unconcerned, and after
chatting on indifferent subjects for a short time, said to me, "I find
from Wilson that we are going to lose Mr. De Courcy--is it true that
he leaves Churchhill this morning? " I replied that it was. "He told
us nothing of all this last night," said she, laughing, "or even this
morning at breakfast; but perhaps he did not know it himself. Young men
are often hasty in their resolutions, and not more sudden in forming
than unsteady in keeping them. I should not be surprised if he were to
change his mind at last, and not go. " She soon afterwards left the room.
I trust, however, my dear mother, that we have no reason to fear an
alteration of his present plan; things have gone too far. They must have
quarrelled, and about Frederica, too. Her calmness astonishes me. What
delight will be yours in seeing him again; in seeing him still worthy
your esteem, still capable of forming your happiness! When I next
write I shall be able to tell you that Sir James is gone, Lady Susan
vanquished, and Frederica at peace. We have much to do, but it shall
be done. I am all impatience to hear how this astonishing change was
effected. I finish as I began, with the warmest congratulations.

Yours ever, &c. ,

CATH. VERNON.





XXIV


FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME


Churchhill.


Little did I imagine, my dear Mother, when I sent off my last letter,
that the delightful perturbation of spirits I was then in would undergo
so speedy, so melancholy a reverse. I never can sufficiently regret that
I wrote to you at all. Yet who could have foreseen what has happened?
My dear mother, every hope which made me so happy only two hours ago has
vanished. The quarrel between Lady Susan and Reginald is made up, and we
are all as we were before. One point only is gained. Sir James Martin is
dismissed. What are we now to look forward to? I am indeed disappointed;
Reginald was all but gone, his horse was ordered and all but brought
to the door; who would not have felt safe? For half an hour I was in
momentary expectation of his departure. After I had sent off my letter
to you, I went to Mr. Vernon, and sat with him in his room talking over
the whole matter, and then determined to look for Frederica, whom I had
not seen since breakfast. I met her on the stairs, and saw that she was
crying. "My dear aunt," said she, "he is going--Mr. De Courcy is going,
and it is all my fault. I am afraid you will be very angry with me, but
indeed I had no idea it would end so. " "My love," I replied, "do not
think it necessary to apologize to me on that account. I shall feel
myself under an obligation to anyone who is the means of sending my
brother home, because," recollecting myself, "I know my father wants
very much to see him. But what is it you have done to occasion all
this? " She blushed deeply as she answered: "I was so unhappy about Sir
James that I could not help--I have done something very wrong, I know;
but you have not an idea of the misery I have been in: and mamma had
ordered me never to speak to you or my uncle about it, and--" "You
therefore spoke to my brother to engage his interference," said I, to
save her the explanation. "No, but I wrote to him--I did indeed, I got
up this morning before it was light, and was two hours about it; and
when my letter was done I thought I never should have courage to give
it. After breakfast however, as I was going to my room, I met him in the
passage, and then, as I knew that everything must depend on that moment,
I forced myself to give it. He was so good as to take it immediately. I
dared not look at him, and ran away directly. I was in such a fright I
could hardly breathe. My dear aunt, you do not know how miserable I
have been. " "Frederica" said I, "you ought to have told me all your
distresses. You would have found in me a friend always ready to assist
you. Do you think that your uncle or I should not have espoused your
cause as warmly as my brother? " "Indeed, I did not doubt your kindness,"
said she, colouring again, "but I thought Mr. De Courcy could do
anything with my mother; but I was mistaken: they have had a dreadful
quarrel about it, and he is going away. Mamma will never forgive me,
and I shall be worse off than ever. " "No, you shall not," I replied;
"in such a point as this your mother's prohibition ought not to have
prevented your speaking to me on the subject. She has no right to
make you unhappy, and she shall NOT do it. Your applying, however, to
Reginald can be productive only of good to all parties. I believe it
is best as it is. Depend upon it that you shall not be made unhappy any
longer. " At that moment how great was my astonishment at seeing Reginald
come out of Lady Susan's dressing-room. My heart misgave me instantly.
His confusion at seeing me was very evident. Frederica immediately
disappeared. "Are you going? " I said; "you will find Mr. Vernon in his
own room. " "No, Catherine," he replied, "I am not going. Will you let
me speak to you a moment? " We went into my room. "I find," he continued,
his confusion increasing as he spoke, "that I have been acting with my
usual foolish impetuosity. I have entirely misunderstood Lady Susan, and
was on the point of leaving the house under a false impression of
her conduct. There has been some very great mistake; we have been all
mistaken, I fancy. Frederica does not know her mother. Lady Susan means
nothing but her good, but she will not make a friend of her. Lady Susan
does not always know, therefore, what will make her daughter happy.
Besides, I could have no right to interfere. Miss Vernon was mistaken in
applying to me. In short, Catherine, everything has gone wrong, but it
is now all happily settled. Lady Susan, I believe, wishes to speak to
you about it, if you are at leisure. " "Certainly," I replied, deeply
sighing at the recital of so lame a story. I made no comments, however,
for words would have been vain.

Reginald was glad to get away, and I went to Lady Susan, curious,
indeed, to hear her account of it. "Did I not tell you," said she with
a smile, "that your brother would not leave us after all? " "You did,
indeed," replied I very gravely; "but I flattered myself you would be
mistaken. " "I should not have hazarded such an opinion," returned she,
"if it had not at that moment occurred to me that his resolution of
going might be occasioned by a conversation in which we had been this
morning engaged, and which had ended very much to his dissatisfaction,
from our not rightly understanding each other's meaning. This idea
struck me at the moment, and I instantly determined that an accidental
dispute, in which I might probably be as much to blame as himself,
should not deprive you of your brother. If you remember, I left the room
almost immediately. I was resolved to lose no time in clearing up those
mistakes as far as I could. The case was this--Frederica had set herself
violently against marrying Sir James. " "And can your ladyship wonder
that she should? " cried I with some warmth; "Frederica has an excellent
understanding, and Sir James has none. " "I am at least very far from
regretting it, my dear sister," said she; "on the contrary, I am
grateful for so favourable a sign of my daughter's sense. Sir James is
certainly below par (his boyish manners make him appear worse); and had
Frederica possessed the penetration and the abilities which I could have
wished in my daughter, or had I even known her to possess as much as she
does, I should not have been anxious for the match. " "It is odd that
you should alone be ignorant of your daughter's sense! " "Frederica never
does justice to herself; her manners are shy and childish, and besides
she is afraid of me. During her poor father's life she was a spoilt
child; the severity which it has since been necessary for me to show
has alienated her affection; neither has she any of that brilliancy
of intellect, that genius or vigour of mind which will force itself
forward. " "Say rather that she has been unfortunate in her education! "
"Heaven knows, my dearest Mrs. Vernon, how fully I am aware of that; but
I would wish to forget every circumstance that might throw blame on the
memory of one whose name is sacred with me. " Here she pretended to cry;
I was out of patience with her. "But what," said I, "was your ladyship
going to tell me about your disagreement with my brother? " "It
originated in an action of my daughter's, which equally marks her want
of judgment and the unfortunate dread of me I have been mentioning--she
wrote to Mr. De Courcy. " "I know she did; you had forbidden her speaking
to Mr. Vernon or to me on the cause of her distress; what could she do,
therefore, but apply to my brother? " "Good God! " she exclaimed, "what an
opinion you must have of me! Can you possibly suppose that I was
aware of her unhappiness! that it was my object to make my own child
miserable, and that I had forbidden her speaking to you on the subject
from a fear of your interrupting the diabolical scheme? Do you think
me destitute of every honest, every natural feeling? Am I capable of
consigning HER to everlasting misery whose welfare it is my first
earthly duty to promote? The idea is horrible! " "What, then, was your
intention when you insisted on her silence? " "Of what use, my dear
sister, could be any application to you, however the affair might stand?
Why should I subject you to entreaties which I refused to attend to
myself? Neither for your sake nor for hers, nor for my own, could such
a thing be desirable. When my own resolution was taken I could not
wish for the interference, however friendly, of another person. I was
mistaken, it is true, but I believed myself right. " "But what was this
mistake to which your ladyship so often alludes! from whence arose so
astonishing a misconception of your daughter's feelings! Did you not
know that she disliked Sir James? " "I knew that he was not absolutely
the man she would have chosen, but I was persuaded that her objections
to him did not arise from any perception of his deficiency. You must
not question me, however, my dear sister, too minutely on this point,"
continued she, taking me affectionately by the hand; "I honestly own
that there is something to conceal. Frederica makes me very unhappy! Her
applying to Mr. De Courcy hurt me particularly. " "What is it you mean
to infer," said I, "by this appearance of mystery? If you think your
daughter at all attached to Reginald, her objecting to Sir James could
not less deserve to be attended to than if the cause of her objecting
had been a consciousness of his folly; and why should your ladyship,
at any rate, quarrel with my brother for an interference which, you must
know, it is not in his nature to refuse when urged in such a manner? "

"His disposition, you know, is warm, and he came to expostulate with
me; his compassion all alive for this ill-used girl, this heroine in
distress! We misunderstood each other: he believed me more to blame than
I really was; I considered his interference less excusable than I
now find it. I have a real regard for him, and was beyond expression
mortified to find it, as I thought, so ill bestowed. We were both warm,
and of course both to blame. His resolution of leaving Churchhill is
consistent with his general eagerness. When I understood his intention,
however, and at the same time began to think that we had been perhaps
equally mistaken in each other's meaning, I resolved to have an
explanation before it was too late. For any member of your family I must
always feel a degree of affection, and I own it would have sensibly hurt
me if my acquaintance with Mr. De Courcy had ended so gloomily. I have
now only to say further, that as I am convinced of Frederica's having
a reasonable dislike to Sir James, I shall instantly inform him that he
must give up all hope of her. I reproach myself for having, even though
innocently, made her unhappy on that score. She shall have all the
retribution in my power to make; if she value her own happiness as much
as I do, if she judge wisely, and command herself as she ought, she may
now be easy. Excuse me, my dearest sister, for thus trespassing on your
time, but I owe it to my own character; and after this explanation I
trust I am in no danger of sinking in your opinion. " I could have
said, "Not much, indeed! " but I left her almost in silence. It was
the greatest stretch of forbearance I could practise. I could not have
stopped myself had I begun. Her assurance! her deceit! but I will not
allow myself to dwell on them; they will strike you sufficiently. My
heart sickens within me. As soon as I was tolerably composed I returned
to the parlour. Sir James's carriage was at the door, and he, merry
as usual, soon afterwards took his leave. How easily does her ladyship
encourage or dismiss a lover! In spite of this release, Frederica still
looks unhappy: still fearful, perhaps, of her mother's anger; and though
dreading my brother's departure, jealous, it may be, of his staying. I
see how closely she observes him and Lady Susan, poor girl! I have now
no hope for her. There is not a chance of her affection being returned.
He thinks very differently of her from what he used to do; he does her
some justice, but his reconciliation with her mother precludes every
dearer hope. Prepare, my dear mother, for the worst! The probability of
their marrying is surely heightened! He is more securely hers than ever.
When that wretched event takes place, Frederica must belong wholly to
us. I am thankful that my last letter will precede this by so little, as
every moment that you can be saved from feeling a joy which leads only
to disappointment is of consequence.

Yours ever, &c. ,

CATHERINE VERNON.





XXV


LADY SUSAN TO MRS. JOHNSON


Churchhill.


I call on you, dear Alicia, for congratulations: I am my own self, gay
and triumphant! When I wrote to you the other day I was, in truth, in
high irritation, and with ample cause. Nay, I know not whether I ought
to be quite tranquil now, for I have had more trouble in restoring
peace than I ever intended to submit to--a spirit, too, resulting from
a fancied sense of superior integrity, which is peculiarly insolent! I
shall not easily forgive him, I assure you. He was actually on the point
of leaving Churchhill! I had scarcely concluded my last, when Wilson
brought me word of it. I found, therefore, that something must be done;
for I did not choose to leave my character at the mercy of a man whose
passions are so violent and so revengeful. It would have been trifling
with my reputation to allow of his departing with such an impression in
my disfavour; in this light, condescension was necessary. I sent
Wilson to say that I desired to speak with him before he went; he came
immediately. The angry emotions which had marked every feature when we
last parted were partially subdued. He seemed astonished at the summons,
and looked as if half wishing and half fearing to be softened by what I
might say. If my countenance expressed what I aimed at, it was composed
and dignified; and yet, with a degree of pensiveness which might
convince him that I was not quite happy. "I beg your pardon, sir, for
the liberty I have taken in sending for you," said I; "but as I have
just learnt your intention of leaving this place to-day, I feel it my
duty to entreat that you will not on my account shorten your visit here
even an hour. I am perfectly aware that after what has passed between
us it would ill suit the feelings of either to remain longer in the same
house: so very great, so total a change from the intimacy of friendship
must render any future intercourse the severest punishment; and your
resolution of quitting Churchhill is undoubtedly in unison with our
situation, and with those lively feelings which I know you to possess.
But, at the same time, it is not for me to suffer such a sacrifice as it
must be to leave relations to whom you are so much attached, and are so
dear. My remaining here cannot give that pleasure to Mr. and Mrs. Vernon
which your society must; and my visit has already perhaps been too long.
My removal, therefore, which must, at any rate, take place soon, may,
with perfect convenience, be hastened; and I make it my particular
request that I may not in any way be instrumental in separating a
family so affectionately attached to each other. Where I go is of
no consequence to anyone; of very little to myself; but you are of
importance to all your connections. " Here I concluded, and I hope you
will be satisfied with my speech. Its effect on Reginald justifies some
portion of vanity, for it was no less favourable than instantaneous. Oh,
how delightful it was to watch the variations of his countenance while I
spoke! to see the struggle between returning tenderness and the remains
of displeasure. There is something agreeable in feelings so easily
worked on; not that I envy him their possession, nor would, for the
world, have such myself; but they are very convenient when one wishes
to influence the passions of another. And yet this Reginald, whom a
very few words from me softened at once into the utmost submission, and
rendered more tractable, more attached, more devoted than ever, would
have left me in the first angry swelling of his proud heart without
deigning to seek an explanation. Humbled as he now is, I cannot forgive
him such an instance of pride, and am doubtful whether I ought not to
punish him by dismissing him at once after this reconciliation, or
by marrying and teazing him for ever. But these measures are each too
violent to be adopted without some deliberation; at present my thoughts
are fluctuating between various schemes. I have many things to compass:
I must punish Frederica, and pretty severely too, for her application to
Reginald; I must punish him for receiving it so favourably, and for the
rest of his conduct.