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 tête-
`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 with drew. 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 forever.'
`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 upstairs 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 shan'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 sunk into the
easy-hair 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 bad 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--
`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 Low borough
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 anyone 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.
`Do you mean by that, that your fancies are lost to me, and won by
Lady Lowborough?'
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and won
Than women's are."
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