October 9th. — It was on the
night of the 4th, a little after tea, that Annabella
had been singing and playing, with Arthur as usual
at her side: she had ended her song, but still
she sat at the instrument; and he stood leaning on
the back of her chair, conversing in scarcely audible
tones, with his face in very close proximity with
hers. I looked at Lord Lowborough. He was
at the other end of the room, talking with Messrs.
Hargrave and Grimsby; but I saw him dart towards his
lady and his host a quick, impatient glance, expressive
of intense disquietude, at which Grimsby smiled.
Determined to interrupt the TETE-E-TETE, I rose, and,
selecting a piece of music from the music stand, stepped
up to the piano, intending to ask the lady to play
it; but I stood transfixed and speechless on seeing
her seated there, listening, with what seemed an exultant
smile on her flushed face to his soft murmurings, with
her hand quietly surrendered to his clasp. The
blood rushed first to my heart, and then to my head;
for there was more than this: almost at the moment
of my approach, he cast a hurried glance over his
shoulder towards the other occupants of the room, and
then ardently pressed the unresisting hand to his
lips. On raising his eyes, he beheld me, and
dropped them again, confounded and dismayed.
She saw me too, and confronted me with a look of hard
defiance. I laid the music on the piano, and
retired. I felt ill; but I did not leave the
room: happily, it was getting late, and could
not be long before the company dispersed.
I went to the fire, and leant my head
against the chimney-piece. In a minute or two,
some one asked me if I felt unwell. I did not
answer; indeed, at the time, I knew not what was said;
but I mechanically looked up, and saw Mr. Hargrave
standing beside me on the rug.
‘Shall I get you a glass of wine?’ said
he.
‘No, thank you,’ I replied;
and, turning from him, I looked round. Lady Lowborough
was beside her husband, bending over him as he sat,
with her hand on his shoulder, softly talking and smiling
in his face; and Arthur was at the table, turning
over a book of engravings. I seated myself in
the nearest chair; and Mr. Hargrave, finding his services
were not desired, judiciously withdrew. Shortly
after, the company broke up, and, as the guests were
retiring to their rooms, Arthur approached me, smiling
with the utmost assurance.
‘Are you very angry, Helen?’ murmured
he.
‘This is no jest, Arthur,’
said I, seriously, but as calmly as I could —
‘unless you think it a jest to lose my affection
for ever.’
‘What! so bitter?’ he
exclaimed, laughingly, clasping my hand between both
his; but I snatched it away, in indignation —
almost in disgust, for he was obviously affected with
wine.
‘Then I must go down on my knees,’
said he; and kneeling before me, with clasped hands,
uplifted in mock humiliation, he continued imploringly
— ’Forgive me, Helen — dear Helen,
forgive me, and I’ll never do it again!’
and, burying his face in his handkerchief, he affected
to sob aloud.
Leaving him thus employed, I took
my candle, and, slipping quietly from the room, hastened
up-stairs as fast as I could. But he soon discovered
that I had left him, and, rushing up after me, caught
me in his arms, just as I had entered the chamber,
and was about to shut the door in his face.
‘No, no, by heaven, you sha’n’t
escape me so!’ he cried. Then, alarmed
at my agitation, he begged me not to put myself in
such a passion, telling me I was white in the face,
and should kill myself if I did so.
‘Let me go, then,’ I murmured;
and immediately he released me — and it was
well he did, for I was really in a passion. I
sank into the easy-chair and endeavoured to compose
myself, for I wanted to speak to him calmly.
He stood beside me, but did not venture to touch me
or to speak for a few seconds; then, approaching a
little nearer, he dropped on one knee — not
in mock humility, but to bring himself nearer my level,
and leaning his hand on the arm of the chair, he began
in a low voice: ’It is all nonsense, Helen
— a jest, a mere nothing — not worth a
thought. Will you never learn,’ he continued
more boldly, ’that you have nothing to fear from
me? that I love you wholly and entirely? — or
if,’ he added with a lurking smile, ’I
ever give a thought to another, you may well spare
it, for those fancies are here and gone like a flash
of lightning, while my love for you burns on steadily,
and for ever, like the sun. You little exorbitant
tyrant, will not that -?’
‘Be quiet a moment, will you,
Arthur?’ said I, ’and listen to me —
and don’t think I’m in a jealous fury:
I am perfectly calm. Feel my hand.’
And I gravely extended it towards him — but
closed it upon his with an energy that seemed to disprove
the assertion, and made him smile. ‘You
needn’t smile, sir,’ said I, still tightening
my grasp, and looking steadfastly on him till he almost
quailed before me. ’You may think it all
very fine, Mr. Huntingdon, to amuse yourself with
rousing my jealousy; but take care you don’t
rouse my hate instead. And when you have once
extinguished my love, you will find it no easy matter
to kindle it again.’
’Well, Helen, I won’t
repeat the offence. But I meant nothing by it,
I assure you. I had taken too much wine, and
I was scarcely myself at the time.’
‘You often take too much; and
that is another practice I detest.’ He
looked up astonished at my warmth. ‘Yes,’
I continued; ’I never mentioned it before, because
I was ashamed to do so; but now I’ll tell you
that it distresses me, and may disgust me, if you go
on and suffer the habit to grow upon you, as it will
if you don’t check it in time. But the
whole system of your conduct to Lady Lowborough is
not referable to wine; and this night you knew perfectly
well what you were doing.’
‘Well, I’m sorry for it,’
replied he, with more of sulkiness than contrition:
‘what more would you have?’
‘You are sorry that I saw you,
no doubt,’ I answered coldly.
‘If you had not seen me,’
he muttered, fixing his eyes on the carpet, ‘it
would have done no harm.’
My heart felt ready to burst; but
I resolutely swallowed back my emotion, and answered
calmly,
‘You think not?’
‘No,’ replied he, boldly.
’After all, what have I done? It’s
nothing — except as you choose to make it a subject
of accusation and distress.’
’What would Lord Lowborough,
your friend, think, if he knew all? or what would
you yourself think, if he or any other had acted the
same part to me, throughout, as you have to Annabella?’
‘I would blow his brains out.’
’Well, then, Arthur, how can
you call it nothing — an offence for which you
would think yourself justified in blowing another man’s
brains out? Is it nothing to trifle with your
friend’s feelings and mine — to endeavour
to steal a woman’s affections from her husband
— what he values more than his gold, and therefore
what it is more dishonest to take? Are the marriage
vows a jest; and is it nothing to make it your sport
to break them, and to tempt another to do the same?
Can I love a man that does such things, and coolly
maintains it is nothing?’
‘You are breaking your marriage
vows yourself,’ said he, indignantly rising
and pacing to and fro. ’You promised to
honour and obey me, and now you attempt to hector
over me, and threaten and accuse me, and call me worse
than a highwayman. If it were not for your situation,
Helen, I would not submit to it so tamely. I
won’t be dictated to by a woman, though she be
my wife.’
’What will you do then?
Will you go on till I hate you, and then accuse me
of breaking my vows?’
He was silent a. moment, and then
replied: ’You never will hate me.’
Returning and resuming his former position at my feet,
he repeated more vehemently — ’You cannot
hate me as long as I love you.’
’But how can I believe that
you love me, if you continue to act in this way?
Just imagine yourself in my place: would you
think I loved you, if I did so? Would you believe
my protestations, and honour and trust me under such
circumstances? ’
‘The cases are different,’
he replied. ’It is a woman’s nature
to be constant — to love one and one only, blindly,
tenderly, and for ever — bless them, dear creatures!
and you above them all; but you must have some commiseration
for us, Helen; you must give us a little more licence,
for, as Shakespeare has it —
However we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and won
Than women’s are.’
’Do you mean by that, that your
fancies are lost to me, and won by Lady Lowborough?’
’No! heaven is my witness that
I think her mere dust and ashes in comparison with
you, and shall continue to think so, unless you drive
me from you by too much severity. She is a daughter
of earth; you are an angel of heaven; only be not
too austere in your divinity, and remember that I
am a poor, fallible mortal. Come now, Helen;
won’t you forgive me?’ he said, gently
taking my hand, and looking up with an innocent smile.
‘If I do, you will repeat the offence.’
’I swear by — ’
’Don’t swear; I’ll
believe your word as well as your oath. I wish
I could have confidence in either.’
’Try me, then, Helen:
only trust and pardon me this once, and you shall
see! Come, I am in hell’s torments till
you speak the word.’
I did not speak it, but I put my hand
on his shoulder and kissed his forehead, and then
burst into tears. He embraced me tenderly; and
we have been good friends ever since. He has
been decently temperate at table, and well-conducted
towards Lady Lowborough. The first day he held
himself aloof from her, as far as he could without
any flagrant breach of hospitality: since that
he has been friendly and civil, but nothing more —
in my presence, at least, nor, I think, at any other
time; for she seems haughty and displeased, and Lord
Lowborough is manifestly more cheerful, and more cordial
towards his host than before. But I shall be
glad when they are gone, for I have so little love
for Annabella that it is quite a task to be civil
to her, and as she is the only woman here besides
myself, we are necessarily thrown so much together.
Next time Mrs. Hargrave calls I shall hail her advent
as quite a relief. I have a good mind to ask
Arthur’s leave to invite the old lady to stay
with us till our guests depart. I think I will.
She will take it as a kind attention, and, though
I have little relish for her society, she will be
truly welcome as a third to stand between Lady Lowborough
and me.
The first time the latter and I were
alone together, after that unhappy evening, was an
hour or two after breakfast on the following day,
when the gentlemen were gone out, after the usual
time spent in the writing of letters, the reading of
newspapers, and desultory conversation. We sat
silent for two or three minutes. She was busy
with her work, and I was running over the columns
of a paper from which I had extracted all the pith
some twenty minutes before. It was a moment
of painful embarrassment to me, and I thought it must
be infinitely more so to her; but it seems I was mistaken.
She was the first to speak; and, smiling with the
coolest assurance, she began, —
‘Your husband was merry last
night, Helen: is he often so?’
My blood boiled in my face; but it
was better she should seem to attribute his conduct
to this than to anything else.
‘No,’ replied I, ‘and
never will be so again, I trust.’
‘You gave him a curtain lecture, did you?’
’No! but I told him I disliked
such conduct, and he promised me not to repeat it.’
‘I thought he looked rather
subdued this morning,’ she continued; ’and
you, Helen? you’ve been weeping, I see —
that’s our grand resource, you know. But
doesn’t it make your eyes smart? and do you
always find it to answer?’
‘I never cry for effect; nor
can I conceive how any one can.’
’Well, I don’t know:
I never had occasion to try it; but I think if Lowborough
were to commit such improprieties, I’d make him
cry. I don’t wonder at your being angry,
for I’m sure I’d give my husband a lesson
he would not soon forget for a lighter offence than
that. But then he never will do anything of the
kind; for I keep him in too good order for that.’
’Are you sure you don’t
arrogate too much of the credit to yourself.
Lord Lowborough was quite as remarkable for his abstemiousness
for some time before you married him, as he is now,
I have heard.’
’Oh, about the wine you mean
— yes, he’s safe enough for that.
And as to looking askance to another woman, he’s
safe enough for that too, while I live, for he worships
the very ground I tread on.’
‘Indeed! and are you sure you deserve it?’
’Why, as to that, I can’t
say: you know we’re all fallible creatures,
Helen; we none of us deserve to be worshipped.
But are you sure your darling Huntingdon deserves
all the love you give to him?’
I knew not what to answer to this.
I was burning with anger; but I suppressed all outward
manifestations of it, and only bit my lip and pretended
to arrange my work.
‘At any rate,’ resumed
she, pursuing her advantage, ’you can console
yourself with the assurance that you are worthy of
all the love he gives to you.’
‘You flatter me,’ said
I; ’but, at least, I can try to be worthy of
it.’ And then I turned the conversation.