Authors: George W. M. Reynolds,James Malcolm Rymer
CHAPTER CXXII.
A CHANGE OF FORTUNE
IT was about three o'clock in the afternoon that the Earl of
Warrington alighted from his horse at the door of Mrs. Arlington's residence in
Dover Street.
Giving his horse in charge to his mounted groom, the
nobleman entered the dwelling.
The Enchantress received him in the drawing- room; but, to
her surprise, the air of the earl was cold and formal.
He seated himself in a chair at a distance from the sofa
which Diana occupied; and for some moments he uttered not a word.
A sentiment of pride prevented her from saying anything to
elicit an explanation of his ceremonial manner, because she was not aware that
she was guilty of a fault meriting such treatment.
At length that silence, most embarrassing to both, was
broken by the earl.
"Diana," he said, "we must separate. You have
conducted yourself in a manner that has made me the laughing-stock of all who
know me."
"My lord!" exclaimed Diana, perfectly astonished
at this accusation; "you must have been misinformed; or you are bantering
me."
"Neither the one nor the other," replied the earl.
"You may probably conceive whether I am inclined to
jest, when I state that your kind consideration towards Sir Rupert Harborough
has reached my ears."
"Indeed, my lord!" cried Diana. "I do not
attempt to deny that I forwarded, anonymously, to Sir Rupert Harborough a sum
of money to extricate him from a fearful embarrassment."
"It would be unmanly in me to do more than remind you
whence came that money which you could afford to fling away upon an
unprincipled profligate," said the Earl of Warrington; "at the same
time, you cannot suppose that it is pleasant to my feelings to learn that the
world makes itself merry at my expense."
"Your lordship is aware that I am the last person in
existence to do aught to occasion you the slightest uneasiness. Perhaps I was
wrong —"
"You cannot, with your good sense, think otherwise. But
let us not dispute upon the point: the thing is done, and cannot be recalled;
but its effect is fatal to our connexion."
"Your lordship does not mean —"
"I mean that we must separate, Diana," interrupted
the nobleman, firmly.
"Is my fault irreparable in your eyes ?" asked the
Enchantress, tears trickling down her cheeks.
"No man can endure ridicule - and I am particularly
sensitive in that respect."
"But where did you learn that such was the result of my
foolish kindness," said Diana, almost bewildered by the suddenness with
which this blow had come upon her.
"I will give you every explanation you require, as in
duty bound," replied the earl. "Captain Fitzhardinge, an officer in
the Grenadier Guards, is an acquaintance of mine. He is a visitor at the house
of Sir Rupert Harborough; and last evening Lady Cecilia Harborough told him
what she called a capital anecdote of how she had cheated her husband out of a
thousand pounds. Then, it appears, they laughed heartily at this
excellent joke
; and Lady Cecilia proceeded to
inform him that she had discovered whence the handsome subsidy emanated. She
concluded, in terms more galling then polite, by ridiculing the Earl of
Warrington, who was foolish enough to supply Mrs. Arlington so munificently
with money, that she was enabled to spare some for her ancient lovers. You have
asked me for the plain truth, and I have told it, as Captain Fitzhardinge
stated it to me."
"And thus a trivial indiscretion on my part has created
all this mischief," sobbed the Enchantress.
"You have acted most unwisely, Diana: I will not go so
far as to say that you must have had some particular motive in forwarding that
money to one who —"
"Heaven knows the purity of my motive!" exclaimed
Diana, wiping away her tears, and glancing proudly towards the nobleman.
"The world will scarcely admit that purity of motive in
such a case was possible. Consider the inferences that must be drawn
—"
"And do you, my lord, believe that any unworthy reason
of that kind led me to assist Sir Rupert Harborough ?" demanded the
Enchantress.
"If I may judge by your outward conduct towards me, I
should give a decided negative in reply to your question. But we should no
longer be happy in each other's society, while the least ground for unpleasant
suspicions existed. We will, then, separate - but separate as good
friends."
"Be it so, my lord," said Diana, the flush of injured
pride dyeing her cheeks, while she conquered the emotions that rose in her bosom.
"The lease of this house, and everything it contains,
are yours," continued the earl, after a moment's pause: "in this
pocket-book there is a cheque —"
"No, my lord," interrupted Diana; "your
bounty has already done much for me - more than you seem to think I have
deserved: I cannot accept another favour at your lordship's hands."
The Earl of Warrington was struck by this answer, which
proved that his mistress was not selfish; and for a few moments he was upon the
point of making overtures for a reconciliation.
But the dread of ridicule - the fear of being laughed at as
a man who kept a mistress for the benefit of others - the horror of being made
the laughing-stock of all the rakes and demireps in London, smothered the
lenient feelings that had awoke in his breast.
"You refuse to accept this token of my friendship,
Diana ?" he said.
"I must beg most respectfully to decline it, my lord -
with fervent gratitude, nevertheless, for your generosity."
Again the earl wavered.
He looked at that beautiful woman who had been so charming
and fascinating a companion,-who had advised him as a faithful friend in
various matters upon which he had consulted her, - and who, to all appearance,
had conducted herself so well towards him, save in this one instance ; - he
gazed upon her for a few moments, and his stern resolves melted rapidly away.
"Diana, he said, "we —"
At that moment the sounds of voices in the street caused him
to turn his head towards the window; and he perceived Captain Fitzhardinge and
another gentleman riding by on horseback.
They were laughing heartily, and gazing towards the house.
The Earl of Warrington's sensitive mind instantly suggested
to him the idea that the anecdote of the thousand pounds was being again
retailed, and most probably accompanied by the intimation that
that was, the house of the
complaisant Earl of Warrington's mistress!
The Enchantress, with that keen
perception that characterises woman, had seen all that was passing in the earl's
mind, - had observed him waver twice, and had felt convinced on the second
occasion that he would court a reconciliation.
But when these voices and that hearty laughter from the
street fell upon her ears, and when she saw the blood rush to the earl's
countenance as he glanced in that direction, she knew that all was over.
The earl rose and said, "Give me your hand, Diana: we
will part, as I said, good friends; and remember that I shall always be ready
to serve you. Farewell!"
"Farewell, my lord," returned Mrs. Arlington,
extending her hand, which the nobleman pressed with lingering tenderness.
Then, afraid of another access of weakness, the Earl of
Warrington wrung her hand warmly, and precipitated himself from the room.
The Enchantress hurried to the window, concealed herself
behind the curtain, and watched him as he mounted his horse to depart.
He did not glance once upwards to the window: perhaps he
knew that she was there!
And yet her pride prompted her to conceal herself in that
manner.
When he was out of sight, she threw herself upon the sofa
and wept.
"Oh! if I had but said one word when his hand pressed
mine," she exclaimed, "I might still have retained him! He is gone !
- my best, my only friend!"
But Diana was not a woman to give way to grief for any
length of time. She possessed great mental fortitude, which, though subdued for
a short space, soon rose predominant over this cruel affliction.
Then she began to reflect upon her position. She had a house
beautifully furnished; and she possessed a considerable sum of ready money. She
had therefore no disquietude for the present, and but a little apprehension for
the future; for she knew that her personal beauty and mental qualifications
would soon bring another lover to her feet.
But she seriously thought of renouncing the species of life
to which she had for some years been devoted: she longed to live independently
and respectably.
In this frame of mind she passed the remainder of the day,
pondering upon a variety of plans in accordance with her new desire.
She retired early to rest; but, not feeling an inclination
to sleep, she amused herself with a book. The candle stood upon a table by the
side of the bed; and Diana, luxuriously propped up by the downy pillows, culled
the choicest flowers from Byron's miscellaneous poetic wreath.
An hour elapsed; and at length she grew sleepy. The book
fell from her hand, and her eyelids closed.
Then she remembered no more until she was suddenly aroused
by a sensation of acute pain she started up, and found the bed enveloped in
flames.
She sprang upon the floor; but her night dress was on fire :
- she threw herself on the carpet, and rolled over and over in terrible agony,
piercing screams issuing from her lips.
Those screams were echoed by loud cries of "Fire!"
from the street, and then there was a rush of footsteps upon the stairs.
The door of the chamber was forced open, and Diana was
caught up in the arms of a policeman, who had effected an entry to the house
through the ground-floor windows.
She was carried in a state of insensibility down into the
parlour, where a cloak was hastily thrown over her, and she was conveyed to a
neighbouring hotel. Fortunately a medical man was passing at the moment; and he
tendered his aid.
Meantime the fire spread with astonishing rapidity. The
servants were extricated from the burning pile; but little property was saved.
A considerable time elapsed before the engines arrived; and
when they did reach the spot, an adequate supply of water could not be
procured, as the springs were ice-bound by the frost.
An immense crowd collected in the street; and all was bustle
or curiosity.
The broad red flames shot upward with a roar like that of a
furnace: the scene for a good distance round was as light as noon-day; and the
heavens immediately above appeared to be on fire.
At one time the neighbouring houses were endangered; but
suddenly the roof of the burning tenement fell in with a terrific crash; and
then the conflagration seemed smothered.
But in few minutes the flame shot upwards once more; and
another hour elapsed ere it was completely subdued.
The newspapers announced next morning that
Mrs. Arlington's property was not
insured, and that the lady herself lay in a most precarious state at the hotel
to which she been conveyed.
CHAPTER CXXIII.
ARISTOCRATIC MORALS.
IT was still dark, though pest seven
o'clock, on the morning which succeeded the fire, when a somewhat strange scene
occurred at the house of Sir Rupert Harborough in Tavistock Square.
The baronet, in his slippers and dressing-gown,
cautiously descended the stairs, guiding himself with his left hand placed upon
the balustrade, and conducting a young female with his right.
They maintained a profound silence, and stole down so
carefully that it was easy to perceive they were fearful of alarming the
household.
But while he was still descending the stairs, leading
the young female, who was fully dressed, even to her bonnet and shawl, the
following thoughts passed rapidly through the mind of the baronet.
"After all, it is absurd for me to take this
trouble to get my new mistress secretly out of the house. Why should she not
walk boldly in and out, night or day, I wonder? 'Pon my honour, I have a great
mind that she should! But, no - whatever agreement exists between me and Lady
Cecilia, a certain degree of decency must be observed before the servants, and
for the sake of one's character with the neighbours. After all, prudence is
perhaps the best system."
His thoughts were at this moment interrupted by steps
upon the stairs, which evidently were not the echoes of those of himself and
his paramour.
He paused and listened.
Those steps were descending with great apparent
caution, and yet a little more heavily than was quite consistent with entire
secrecy.
The baronet led his mistress hastily after him,
crossed the hall, and then drew her along with him into an obscure corner near
the front-door.
"Silence, Caroline - silence," he whispered:
"it is most likely the housemaid."
The baronet and his mistress accordingly remained as
quiet as mice in the corner where they were concealed.
Meantime the steps gradually grew nearer and nearer; and
now and then a low and suppressed whisper on the stairs met the baronet's ear.
A vague suspicion that some adventure, which those who
were interested in it were anxious to conduct with as much secrecy as possible,
was in progress, now entered the mind of Sir Rupert Harborough. He accordingly
became all attention.
And now the steps ceased to echo upon the stairs, but
advanced towards the front-door.
The hall was pitch-dark; but the baronet was satisfied
that two persons - a male and female - were the actors in the proceeding which
now interested him; and all doubt on this head was banished from his mind when
they halted within a few feet of the corner where he and his mistress were
concealed.
Then the whispering between the two persons whose
conduct he was watching re-commenced.
"Farewell, dearest Cecilia," said the low
and subdued voice of a man.
"Farewell, beloved Fitzhardinge," answered
the other voice, with whose intonation, in spite of the whisper in which it
spoke, the baronet was full well acquainted.
Then there was the billing murmur of kisses, which
continued for some moments.
"When shall we meet again, dearest ?"
demanded Fitzhardinge, still in the same low tone.
"To-night-at the usual hour I will admit
you," returned Lady Cecilia. "Sir Rupert goes to France to-night with
his splendid friend Chichester."
"Thank heaven for that blessing!" said the
Grenadier Guardsman. "And now, adieu, sweet Cecilia, until this evening!
But, tell me, before I depart - shalt I always find you the same warm, loving,
devoted, fond creature you now are?"
"Always-always to
you,
"
was the murmuring reply.
Then kisses were exchanged again.
"And am I indeed the first whom you have ever
really loved? am I the only one who has ever tasted the pleasures of heaven in
your arms, save your husband ?" continued the officer, intoxicated with
the reminiscences of the night of bliss which he had enjoyed with his paramour.
"Oh! tell me so once again - only once!"
"You know that you alone could have tempted me to
weakness, Fitzhardinge," answered the fair, but guilty patrician lady:
"you alone could have induced me to forget my marriage vows!"
"Now I shall depart happy, my beloved
Cecilia," said the officer; and again he imprinted burning kisses upon the
lady's lips.
He then turned towards the front-door, and endeavoured
to remove the chain: but it had become entangled with the key in some way or
another; and he could not detach it.
"What is the matter ?" inquired Cecilia,
anxiously.
" This infernal chain is fast," answered the
officer; "and all I can do will not move it."
"Let me try," said the lady; but her attempt
was as vain as that of her lover.
"What is to be done?" asked Fitzhardinge.
"God knows!" returned Cecilia; "and it
is growing late! In half-an-hour it will be daylight.. Besides, the servants
will be about presently."
"The devil!" said the officer, impatiently.
"Stay," whispered Lady Cecilia: "I will
go to the kitchen and obtain a light. Do not move from this spot: I will not be
a moment."
She then glided away; and the officer remained at his
post as motionless and as silent as a statue, for fear of alarming the inmates
of the house. His thoughts were not, however, of the most pleasurable kind; and
during the two minutes that Lady Cecilia was absent, his mind rapidly pictured
all the probable consequences of detection-exposure, ridicule, law-suit,
damages, the Queen's Bench prison, the divorce of the lady, and the necessity
under which he should labour of making her his own wife.
This gloomy perspective was suddenly enlivened by the
gleam of a candle at the further end of the ball, and which was immediately
followed by the appearance of Lady Cecilia, with a light.
Still the corner in which Sir Rupert and his paramour
were concealed was veiled in obscurity; while the baronet obtained a full view
of the tall Guardsman, dressed in plain clothes, standing within a couple of
yards of his hiding-place, and also of Lady Cecilia, attired in a loose
dressing-gown, as she advanced rapidly towards the place where her lover
awaited her.
But when Cecilia reached the immediate vicinity of the
front-door, the gleam of the candle fell upon
that nook which had hitherto remained
buried in obscurity.
A scream escaped the lady's lips, and the candle fell
from her hands.
Fortunately it was not extinguished : Sir Rupert
rushed forward and caught it up in time to preserve the light.
Then, at a single glance, those four persons became
aware of each other's position.
A loud laugh escaped the lips of the baronet.
"Sir," said the officer, advancing towards
him, "for all our sakes avoid exposure: but if you require any
satisfaction at my hand, you know who I am and where I reside."
"Satisfaction!" exclaimed Lady Cecilia,
ironically; for she had recovered her presence of mind the moment she had
perceived the equivocal position in which her husband himself was placed in
respect to the female who stood quivering and quaking behind him: "what
satisfaction can Sir Rupert Harborough require, when he admits such a creature
as that into his house ?"
And she pointed with a disdain and a disgust, by no means
affected, towards her husbands paramour.
"Creature indeed!" cried the young woman,
now irritated and excited in her turn : "I think I am as honest as you, my
lady, at all events."
"Wretch!" murmured Cecilia between her teeth, as
if the sight of the
creature
filled her with abhorrence and loathing.
Ah! haughty lady! thou could thyself sin through lust:
but thou couldst not brook the sight of one who sinned for bread!
The young woman, over-awed by the air of insuperable
disgust which marked the proud patrician at that moment, recoiled from her
presence, and burst into tears.
"Come, enough of this folly," said Sir
Rupert, impatiently: "we shall have the servants here in a moment. Perhaps
you and this gentleman," he continued, "will step into that room for
a moment, while I open the door for my little companion here."
Lady Cecilia tossed her head disdainfully, darted a
look of sovereign contempt upon the abashed Caroline, and beckoned Captain
Fitzhardinge to follow her into the adjacent parlour.
Sir Rupert retained the light. He opened the door, the
chain of which had only become entangled round the key, and dismissed his
paramour, who was delighted to escape from that house where the terrible looks
of the lady had so disconcerted her.
The baronet then repaired to the parlour, and, having
locked the door to prevent the intrusion of the servants, threw himself upon
the sofa.
"Well, on my honour!" he exclaimed,
bursting into a loud fit of laughter, "this is one of the most pleasant
adventures that ever I heard or read of - 'pon my honour!"
"Have you requested me to wait here in order to
contribute to your hilarity, sir?" demanded Captain Fitzhardinge,
indignantly.
"My dear fellow," returned the baronet,
"let us laugh in concert! Oh! I can assure you that you need fear no
law-suits nor pistols from me!"
"
Fear,
sir!" ejaculated the Guardsman: "I do not understand the
word."
"Well
- expect,
then, if that will suit you better, my dear captain,"
continued Sir Rupert Harborough. "You see that my wife and myself act as
we please, independently of each other."
"Sir Rupert!" exclaimed Cecilia, who was by
no means anxious that her lover should be made acquainted with the terms of the
agreement into which she and her husband had entered a short time previously,
and the nature of which the reader will remember.
"My dear Cecilia," observed the baronet,
"is it not much better that your
friend
should be made acquainted with the grounds on which you have
admitted him as your sworn knight and only love ?"
"Cease this bantering. sir," cried Captain
Fitzhardinge "Have I not already said that I am willing to give you any
satisfaction which you may require ?"
"And must I again tell you, my dear fellow,"
returned the baronet, with an affectation of familiarity, which only made his
words the more bitter, -" must I again tell you that I have no
satisfaction - that I have none to ask, and you none to give? But I cannot
allow you to consider me a grovelling coward:- I must explain to you the
grounds on which my forbearance is based."
"Proceed, sir," said Captain Fitzbardinge,
coolly.
"You will then allow me to retire to my own room
?" exclaimed Lady Cecilia, rising from the chair in which she had thrown
herself.
"No, my dear," said the baronet, gently
forcing her back into her seat: "you must remain to corroborate the truth
of what I am about to state to this gentleman."
Lady Cecilia resumed the chair from which she had
risen, and made no reply.
"In one word, Captain Fitzhardinge,"
continued if the baronet, "there is a mutual understanding between my wife
and myself, that we shall follow our own inclinations, whims, and caprices,
without reference to the ties which bind us, or the vows which we pledged at
church some years ago. All this may seem very strange: it is nevertheless true.
Therefore, I have no more right to quarrel with Lady Cecilia on
your
account, than she has to abuse me on account of that young person
whom you saw in the house just now. Now, then, my dear captain," continued
the baronet, his tone again becoming bitterly ironical, "you may at your
ease congratulate yourself upon being the only person that Lady Cecilia has
ever loved, and the only one on whom she has ever bestowed her favours with the
exception of her husband."
"Then I am to understand, sir," said the
officer, perfectly astounded at the turn which the affair had taken, "that
you do not consider yourself offended or aggrieved by the - the —"
"Not a whit!" ejaculated the baronet.
"On the contrary - I have no doubt we shall be excellent friends in
future."
The captain bowed, and rose to depart.
Sir Rupert unlocked and opened the door for him, and then
ushered him, with affected politeness, out of the house.
When he returned to the parlour, he found Lady Cecilia
red with indignation.
"What means this scene, Sir Rupert," she
said, "after our mutual compact ?"
"My dear," answered tine baronet, calmly,
"you treated my little friend in a most unpleasant manner, and I thought
myself justified in retaliating to a certain extent. Besides, I was compelled
to give an explanation to a man who would have otherwise looked upon me as a
coward for failing to demand satisfaction of him."
"But did you not consider that you have rendered
me contemptible in his eyes?" demanded Lady Cecilia, burning with spite.
"Never fear, said the baronet.,
"Confiding in your sweet assurances that be alone has ever possessed your
love, and that he alone, save your husband, has ever been blessed with the proofs
of that affection, he will return ere long to your arms. Besides, am I not
going to France to-night with my splendid friend,
Chichester ?"
"This is cruel, Sir Rupert. If an accident made
you acquainted with the conversation which passed between us —"
"An accident, indeed !" interrupted Sir
Rupert Harborough, laughing affectedly. " 'Pon my honour, the entire
adventure is one of the drollest that ever occurred! But let us say no more
upon the subject!
Adhere to the compact on your
side, and do not insult
my
friends —"
"But a prostitute in my house!" ejaculated
Lady Cecilia, still loathing the idea.
"And my wife's paramour in my house!" cried
Sir Rupert.
"Oh, there is something refined in an amour with
one's equal," said Lady Cecilia; but a wretch of that description —"
"Enough of this I cried the baronet. "The
servants are already about: let us each retire to our, own rooms."
And this suggestion was immediately adopted.