Every thing was so new in this life at Brentham to Lothair, as well as so agreeable, that the first days passed by no means rapidly; for, though it sounds strange, time moves with equal slowness whether we experience many impressions or none. In a new circle every character is a study, and every incident an adventure; and the multiplicity of the images and emotions restrains the hours. But after a few days, though Lothair was not less delighted, for he was more so, he was astonished at the rapidity of time. The life was exactly the same, but equally pleasant; the same charming companions, the same refined festivity, the same fascinating amusements; but to his dismay Lothair recollected that nearly a fortnight had elapsed since his arrival. Lord St. Aldegonde also was on the wing; he was obliged to go to Cowes to see a sick friend, though he considerately left Bertha behind him. The other son-in-law remained, for he could not tear himself away from his wife. He was so distractedly fond of Lady Montairy that he would only smoke cigarettes. Lothair felt it was time to go, and he broke the circumstance to his friend Bertram.
These two old fellows, as they mutually described each other, could not at all agree as to the course to be pursued. Bertram looked upon Lothairs suggestion as an act of desertion from himself. At their time of life, the claims of friendship are paramount. And where could Lothair go to? And what was there to do? Nowhere, and nothing. Whereas, if he would remain a little longer, as the duke expected and also the duchess, Bertram would go with him anywhere he liked, and do any thing he chose. So Lothair remained.
In the evening, seated by Lady Montairy, Lothair observed on her sisters singing, and said, I never heard any of our great singers, but I cannot believe there is a finer voice in existence.
Corisandes is a fine voice, said Lady Montairy, but I admire her expression more than her tone; for there are certainly many finer voices, and some day you will hear them.
But I prefer expression, said Lothair very decidedly.
Ah, yes! doubtless, said Lady Montairy, who was working a purse, and thats what we all want, I believe; at least we married daughters, they say. My brother, Granville St. Aldegonde, says we are all too much alike, and that Bertha St. Aldegonde would be parallel if she had no sisters.
I dont at all agree with Lord St. Aldegonde, said Lothair, with energy. I do not think it is possible to have too many relatives like you and your sisters.
Lady Montairy looked up with a smile, but she did not meet a smiling countenance. He seemed, what is called an earnest young man, this friend of her brother Bertram.
At this moment the duke sent swift messengers for all: to come, even the duchess, to partake in a new game just arrived from Russia, some miraculous combination of billiard-balls. Some rose directly, some lingering a moment arranging their work, but all were in motion. Corisande was at the piano, and disencumbering herself of some music. Lothair went up to her rather abruptly:
Your singing, he said, is the finest thing I ever heard. I am so happy that I am not going to leave Brentham to-morrow. There is no place in the world that I think equal to Brentham.
And I love it, too, and no other place, she replied; and I should be quite happy if I never left it.
CHAPTER 5
Lord Montairy was passionately devoted to croquet. He flattered himself that he was the most accomplished male performer existing. He would have thought absolutely the most accomplished, were it not for the unrivalled feats of Lady Montairy. She was the queen of croquet. Her sisters also used the mallet with admirable skill, but not like Georgina. Lord Montairy always looked forward to his summer croquet at Brentham. It was a great croquet family, the Brentham family; even listless Lord St. Aldegonde would sometimes play, with a cigar never out of his mouth. They did not object to his smoking in the air. On the contrary, they rather liked it. Captain Mildmay, too, was a brilliant hand, and had written a treatise on croquetthe best going.
There was a great croquet-party one morning at Brentham. Some neighbors had been invited who loved the sport. Mr. Blenkinsop a grave young gentleman, whose countenance never relaxed while he played, and who was understood, to give his mind entirely up to croquet. He was the owner of the largest estate in the county, and it was thought would have very much liked to have allied himself with one of the young ladies of the house of Brentham; but these flowers were always plucked so quickly, that his relations with the distinguished circle never grew more intimate than croquet. He drove over with some fine horses, and several cases and bags containing instruments and weapons for the fray. His sister came with him, who had forty thousand pounds, but, they said, in some mysterious manner dependent on his consent to her marriage; and it was added that Mr. Blenkinsop would not allow his sister to marry because he would miss her so much in his favorite pastime. There were some other morning visitors, and one or two young curates in cassocks.
It seemed to Lothair a game of great deliberation and of more interest than gayety, though sometimes a cordial cheer, and sometimes a ringing laugh of amiable derision, notified a signal triumph or a disastrous failure. But the scene was brilliant: a marvellous lawn, the duchesss Turkish tent with its rich hangings, and the players themselves, the prettiest of all the spectacle, with their coquettish hats, and their half-veiled and half-revealed under-raiment scarlet and silver, or blue and gold, made up a sparkling and modish scene.
Lothair, who had left the players for a while, and was regaining the lawn, met the duchess.
Your grace is not going to leave us, I hope? he said, rather anxiously.
For a moment. I have long promised to visit the new dairy; and I think this a good opportunity.
I wish I might be your companion, said Lothair; and, invited, he was by her graces side.
They turned into a winding walk of thick and fragrant shrubs, and, after a while, they approached a dell, surrounded with, high trees that environed it with perpetual shade; in the centre of the dell was apparently a Gothic shrine, fair in design and finished in execution, and this was the duchesss new dairy. A pretty sight is a first-rate dairy, with its flooring of fanciful tiles, and its cool and shrouded chambers, its stained windows and its marble slabs, and porcelain pans of cream, and plenteous platters of fantastically-formed butter.
Mrs. Woods and her dairy-maids look like a Dutch picture, said the duchess. Were you ever in Holland?
I have never been anywhere, said Lothair.
You should travel, said the duchess.
I have no wish, said Lothair.
The duke has given me some Coreean fowls, said the duchess to Mrs. Woods, when they had concluded their visit. Do you think you could take care of them for me?
Well, Grace, I am sure I will do my best; but then they are very, troublesome, and I was not fortunate with my Cochin. I had rather they were sent to the aviary, Grace, if it were all the same.
I should so like to see the aviary, said Lothair.
Well, we will go.
And this rather extended their walk, and withdrew them more from the great amusement of the day.
I wish your grace would do me a great favor, said Lothair, abruptly breaking a rather prolonged silence.
And what is that? said the duchess.
It is a very great favor, repeated Lothair.
If it be in my power to grant it, its magnitude would only be an additional recommendation.
And this rather extended their walk, and withdrew them more from the great amusement of the day.
I wish your grace would do me a great favor, said Lothair, abruptly breaking a rather prolonged silence.
And what is that? said the duchess.
It is a very great favor, repeated Lothair.
If it be in my power to grant it, its magnitude would only be an additional recommendation.
Well, said Lothair, blushing deeply, and speaking with much agitation, I would ask your graces permission to offer my hand to your daughter.
The duchess I looked amazed. Corisande! she exclaimed.
Yes, to Lady Corisande.
Corisande, replied the duchess, after a pause, has absolutely not yet entered the world. Corisande is a child; and youyou, my dear friendI am sure you will pardon me If I say, soyou are not very much older than Corisande.
I have no wish to enter the world, said Lothair, with much decision.
I am not an enemy to youthful marriages, said the duchess. I married early myself, and my children married early; and I am very happy, and I hope they are; but some experience of society before we settle is most desirable, and is one of the conditions, I cannot but believe, of that felicity which we all seek.
I hate society, said Lothair. I would never go out of my domestic circle, if it were the circle I contemplate.
My dear young friend, said the duchess, you could hardly have seen enough of society to speak with so much decision.
I have seen quite enough of it, said Lothair. I went to an evening party last seasonI came up from Christchurch on purpose for itand if ever they catch me at another, they shall inflict any penalty they please.
I fear it was a stupid party, said the duchess, smiling, and glad to turn, if possible, the conversation into a lighter vein.
No, it was a very grand party, I believe, and not exactly stupidit was not, that; but I was disgusted with all I saw and all I heard. It seemed to me a mass of affectation, falsehood, and malignity.
Oh! dear, said the duchess, how very dreadful! But I did not mean merely going to parties for society; I meant knowledge of the world, and that experience which enables us to form sound opinions on the affairs of life.
Oh! as for that, said Lothair, my, opinions are already formed on every subject; that is to say, every subject of importance; and, what is more, they will never change.
I could not say that of Corisande, said the duchess.
I think we agree on all the great things, said Lothair, musingly. Her church views may be a little higher than mine, but I do not anticipate any permanent difficulty on that head. Although my uncle made me go to kirk, I always hated it and always considered myself a churchman. Then, as to churches themselves, she is in favor of building churches, and so am I; and schoolsthere is no quantity of schools I would not establish. My opinion is, you cannot have too much education, provided it be founded on a religious basis. I would sooner renounce the whole of my inheritance than consent to secular education.
I should be sorry to see any education but a religious education, remarked the duchess.
Well, then, said Lothair, that is our life, or a great part of it. To complete it, here is that to which I really wish to devote my existence, and in which I instinctively feel Lady Corisande would sympathize with methe extinction of pauperism.
That is a vast subject; said the duchess.
It is the terror of Europe and the disgrace of Britain, said Lothair; and I am resolved to grapple with it. It seems to me that pauperism is not an affair so much of wages as of dwellings. If the working-classes were properly lodged, at their present rate of wages, they would be richer. They would be healthier and happier at the same cost. I am so convinced of this, that the moment I am master, I shall build two thousand cottages on any estates. I have the designs already.
I am much in favor of improved dwellings for the poor, said the duchess; but then you must take care that your dwellings are cottages, and not villas like my cousins, the Duke of Luton.
I do not think I shall make that mistake, replied Lothair. It constantly engages my thought. I am wearied of hearing of my wealth, and I am conscious it has never brought me any happiness. I have lived a great deal alone, dearest duchess, and thought much of these things, but I feel now I should be hardly equal to the effort, unless I had a happy home to, fall back upon.
And you will have a happy home in due time, said the duchess; and with such good and great thoughts you deserve one. But take the advice of one who loved your mother, and who would extend to you the same affection as to her own children; before you take a step which cannot be recalled, see a little more of the world.
Lothair shook his head. No, he said, after a pause. My idea of perfect society is being married as I propose, and paying visits to Brentham; and when the visits to Brentham ceased, then I should like you and the duke to pay visits to us.
But that would be a fairy-tale, said the duchess.
So they walked on in silence.
Suddenly and abruptly Lothair turned to the duchess and said, Does your grace see objection to my speaking to your daughter?
Dear friend, indeed, yes. What you would say would only agitate and disturb Corisande. Her character is not yet formed, and its future is perplexing, at least to me, murmured the mother. She has not the simple nature of her sisters. It is a deeper and more complicated mind, and I watch its development with fond, but anxious interest. Then, in a lighter tone, she added, You do not know very much of us. Try to know more. Everybody under this roof views you with regard, and you are the brother friend of our eldest son. Wherever we are, you will always find a home; but do not touch again upon this subject, at least at present, for it distresses me. And then she took his arm, and pressed it, and by this time they had gained the croquet-ground.
CHAPTER 6
One of the least known squares in London is Hexham Square, though it is one of the oldest. Not that it is very remote from the throng of existence, but it is isolated in a dingy district of silent and decaying streets. Once it was a favored residence of opulence and power, and its architecture still indicates its former and prouder destiny. But its noble mansions are now divided and broken up into separate dwellings, or have been converted into chambers and offices. Lawyers, and architects, and agents, dwell in apartments where the richly-sculptured chimney-pieces, the carved and gilded pediments over the doors, and sometimes even the painted ceilings, tell a tale of vanished stateliness and splendor.
A considerable portion of the north side of the square is occupied by one house standing in a courtyard, with iron gates to the thoroughfare. This is Hexham House, and where Lord Hexham lived in the days of the first Georges. It is reduced in size since his time, two considerable wings, having been pulled down about sixty years ago, and their materials employed in building some residences of less pretension. But the body of the dwelling-house remains, and the court-yard, though reduced in size, has been retained.
Hexham House has an old oak entrance-hall panelled with delicacy, and which has escaped the rifling of speculators in furniture; and out of it rises a staircase of the same material, of a noble character, adorned occasionally with figures; armorial animals holding shields, and sometimes a grotesque form rising from fruits and flowers, all doubtless the work of some famous carver. The staircase led to a corridor, on which several doors open, and through one of these, at the moment of our history, a man, dressed in a dark cassock, and holding a card in his hand, was entering a spacious chamber, meagrely, but not shabbily, furnished. There was a rich cabinet and a fine picture. In the next room, not less spacious, but which had a more inhabited look, a cheerful fire, tables covered with books and papers, and two individuals busily at work with their pens; he gave the card to a gentleman who wore also the cassock, and who stood before the fire with a book in his hand, and apparently dictating to one of the writers.