CHAPTER XX.
"How singularly those brothers resemble each other!" said Lord Wentworthdale to Mr. Palmer; "you appear to know them well; pray does the likeness run through their minds as well as their persons?"
"I know little of them for the last ten years, which I should consider the forming time of a man's life, my lord, but I think it does not; in all that may be called principles and opinions, I dare say they are as much alike as the high forehead and the smiling mouth we are observing; but in other respects they differ, and each forms a most admirable specimen of the class to which they belong as elder and younger brothers."
"So I should think; Meersbrook, desultory as his education must have been, is evidently a man of abilities, and most gentlemanly in manners (indeed, the Persians and Turks are graceful people, amongst whom he has spent much time), whilst the other is a brave, dashing fellow, who will seize fortune by the forelock, as his father did, and leave a name behind that will rival the title. Pray who is the pretty, intelligent-looking girl just led away to the dance?"
"Lady Anne's youngest unmarried daughter Geogiana."
"Has Glentworth, then, married a girl younger than that?"
"He has, my lord; but, though two years her junior, Mrs. Glentworth being dark, looks older; she is, also, somewhat the taller, I think."
"I suppose the match was of Lady Anne's making?"
"That Lady Anne wished Mr. Glentworth to marry one of her daughters cannot be doubted, but she expected the eldest would have been his choice, but poor Mary herself never thought of such a thing (God help her! she has neither heart nor eye for any man since one man misled her). In this affair, I must say Isabella was left to her own council entirely, for Lady Anne was as much surprised as I was, I really believe."
"So young, and so ambitious!" said the marquis, musingly.
"Not one of those young ladies can be called ambitious; they are innocent of all worldly and selfish passions. Isabella was almost in the nursery, as it were; Mr. Glentworth, though not young, was a handsome man, still in his prime, intelligent and very kind; no wonder she was charmed with him, poor thing!"
"And do you really believe, my good sir, the girl married him for love?"
"Upon my honour I do, my lord; and, as the father of three girls, all married to men of their own choice, I count myself pretty learned in symptoms."
At this moment there was a movement towards the instrument, Mrs. Penrhyn and Mrs. Gooch being about to sing,and, of course, the father could not forbear pressing towards his daughter, who was well dressed, radiant with smiles, and capable of performing her task to the satisfaction of "ears polite." Short as the conversation had been between the marquis and Mr. Palmer, it had important consequences. It implanted a dagger in the heart of one nobleman, who was a hearer by mere chance, and awoke a tender desire in the breast of another, after so long a period of old bachelorship, that mothers of every description had given him up some time ago. Little thought the good-natured vindicator of Lady Anne's offspring (to all of whom he was sincerely attached) that he had drawn upon one that which she held to be the great misfortune of her life a short time afterwards.
Poor Georgiana had heard, with great interest, the remarks of the marquis on the interesting brothers, more especially what was said of Arthur; and the pleasant smile which lighted up her countenance at the moment when he inquired "who was she?" was imputed to her admiration of his eloquence, when he found that "such things were," as young ladies feeling a preference, nay, as it appeared, a passion, for men twenty years older than themselves. There was no mistrusting Mr. Palmer; his countenance was a book, in which honesty of purpose and soundness of under standing were legibly written.
Every body was delighted with the singing; and, in paying his compliments to the performers, more especially the bride, the marquis took occasion to converse with her as far as was possible, and convince himself that the daughter of a selfish, extravagant, and sophisticated mother might be artless and modest, sensible and upright. Helen, Georgiana, and two other young ladies sung also; and it appeared that everybody was much more pleased than people are in general with any lions, who are also exotics, to whom they condescend to be attentive, but refuse to be friendly; rejoicing when any little conventional informality reduces the genius, whose patent of nobility the Creator himself has bestowed, below the level of fashion, and substituting ridicule for admiration, the smile of the scorner for the approval of veneration.
"Know thy own worth, and reverence the lyre,"
is a line that should be as a fillet bound round the brow—a philactory embroidered on the garments of every son and daughter of Adam distinguished by the possession of that sacred gift, which, whether used or abused, applauded in itself or derided in its possessor, is the highest and the most inalienable distinction humanity ever has or ever can be gifted with, whether bestowed on the highest or the humblest being, in the great mass to which we all belong. We by no means mean to say that Lady Anne's happy and pleasant little party would not have received a new impetus if a Moore, a Bulwer, a Hook, or those monopolists of beauty and wit, Mrs. Gore and Mrs. Norton, or those daughters of Apollo, ycleped Mitford, Pardoe, and Strickland had been mingled with her "blue spirits and grey;" but we do mean to say that they were very happy without them, and that much, perhaps all, of the "feast of reason and the flow of soul," for which these distinguished individuals are loved, and sought, and honoured, would have been lost in the melée of dancing, singing, chattering, and flirting, to which the major part of the visitants were devoted.
But it was at her supper-table Lady Anne's talents and the good taste of her daughters were most happily displayed: every one pronounced it "the prettiest thing they had seen," and very pretty it was, considering the size of the rooms, nor was any good thing wanting, for Mr. Palmer's cook was as good a hand at white soup as jellies, and "my son Penrhyn" had sent in the Champagne which Lord Penrhyn (when he arrived on the house breaking up) pronounced to be excellent, glancing towards his lady, who had now succeeded in chaining the Russian prince to her ear approvingly, whilst to her brother was directed a withering look, until he saw that the marquis of Wentworthdale was paying his bride the most de-voted and respectful attention, when the current of his pride took another turn, and he determined to restore Charles to favour, seeing his wife was the fashion. He cast his eye around to find any of the sisters; one of them was with Lord Allerton, the other with a stranger, whose high white forehead and bronzed cheeks told that, young as he was, he had braved "the battle and the breeze" in various climates.
The fact was, that poor Georgiana had been particularly anxious to avoid the young sailor, whose conduct had touched her heart so nearly; but, as she was not the less so ready to see him, she had on several occasions took an earnest look from behind any group which happened to be conveniently placed for the purpose. This attracted the notice of Lord Meersbrook, who, even in this gay assemblage, the first he had mixed with in Europe, looked more upon his brother at this time than any other person. He had heard much of the slights passed on younger brothers in English re-unions, and sent jealous glances around in quest not of a knight-errant, but a damsel, who should dare to be shy to the object of his pre-eminent affection. Whispers had reached him of "don't mistake, it is the lesser one who is the viscount; they are exactly alike, but his lordship much the handsomest."
Under the influence of his present sensations, the stolen, and, in fact, the admiring looks of Georgiana were so grateful to his feelings, that if a high and generous purpose had not so entirely possessed him, that the power of beauty and the charm of sympathy were suspended, he might perhaps have loved her who looked so curiously on the brother of his love. In the course of the evening he mentioned the circumstance to Arthur (who had made one in a quadrille from the moment dancing was started) saying, "she is a very pretty girl, and disengaged, I think. Mr. Palmer will introduce you."
The advice was not lost; the quadrille lasted till supper-time, and the two young people were soon gone ages in love, without having any suspicion of such a thing taking place. With the chicken in the fable, the lady might have said—
"I ne'er had been in this condition,
But for my mother's prohibition."
The gentleman might also owe his penchant in part, at least, to the blushes and embarrassment displayed by Georgiana, following the information given by his brother; in him it was both professional and natural to be warmly grateful for the approving smile of a "fair ladye;" and when she was so pretty, so like the bride, her sister, whom every body was praising, no wonder that he was absolutely charmed, and sensible of emotions different, but not less sweet than those he enjoyed on welcoming his brother to the life his own prowess had won.
There was more dancing and singing up stairs, more wit and conversation below; all were at liberty, and all stayed late; and all talked so much of the happiness they had enjoyed, that Lady Anne felt herself exceedingly tempted to give another party before the season finally closed. She had been even bespattered with praise, so abundantly had it been showered upon her; and, like Lord Byron, she "awoke and found herself famous," not like him, for doing great things, but little ones; for it was certain that, in her day of power, she had made scores of grand entertainments, which really merited talking of, but were passed by with little comment; whereas, now, it was evident that all the world envied the few who had been "at home" with Lady Granard.
When she talked of a second, however, even her young daughters, much as they had enjoyed the first, looked blank, for Louisa and Charles were positively alarmed at the first hint she gave; and Mrs. Palmer absolutely protested against "turning the house out of the windows again; at least," she added, "till there is another wedding in the family—not a wedding like poor Louisa's, where the bride is a fugitive one week and fêted another, but a regular approved marriage, which would justify the outlay."
The Marquess of Wentworthdale had called on Lady Anne, as it so happened, at a time when her daughters were gone to Mr. Palmers, with an intention of assisting to restore the china closet to that state of propriety which they had unavoidably disarranged; in consequence of which a tête-à-tête occurred of the most interesting nature, containing a promise for the future far exceeding the meet brilliant visions which had ever occupied either her waking or her sleeping dreams. The vision was, however, so wiredrawn, it was so evident that the nobleman had not got his own consent to the vague something floating in his "mind's eye," that he left her in the dark as to his wishes and intentions beyond the belief that he was determined to seek, in the matrimonial state, that happiness which had hitherto eluded his pursuit, "but that her charming family could alone supply a female suited to his fastidious taste; it was to him a great trouble that he had never till now been aware that the world contained such treasures. Glentworth was, undoubtedly, the happiest of men."
"Had Mary been at home, I do really think the marquess would have made her an offer—as he has never seen her, he may be thinking of Helen: it was evident, he admired Louisa, who did look very well last night; surely, he cannot be thinking of Georgiana, who is growing very like her, but is so mere a child. Yet, I have been told that old bachelors are fond of young girls, under the idea that they can manage them the best, and they may be right. The marquess has been a fine man, and he wears well; but yet, the world would call such a match preposterous, and blame me; whereas, there would be nothing to remark if he took Mary. By the way, Lord Allerton looks nearly as ill as she does, and his wife is at once a flirt and a vixen, yet by no means happy; she wore rouge last night, I am confident; it is taking to art very early in life, and proves something is wrong. Be it so; she brought misery enough on me and mine."