University of Virginia Library

25. CHAPTER XXV.

They returned to the lodge at an early
hour, and Mrs. Wilson, after meditating upon
the course she ought to take, resolved to
have a conversation with her brother that
evening after supper; accordingly, as they
were among the last to retire, she mentioned
her wish to detain him, and when left by
themselves, the baronet taking his seat by her
on a sofa, she commenced as follows, willing
to avert her unpleasant information until the
last moment.

“I wished to say something to you, brother,
relating to my charge, and other matters;
you have, no doubt, observed the attentions of
Mr. Denbigh to Emily?”

“Certainly, sister, and with great pleasure;
you must not suppose I wish to interfere with
the authority I have so freely relinquished to
you, Charlotte, when I inquire if Emily favours
his views, or not?”

“Neither Emily or myself, my dear brother,
wish ever to question your right, not
only to inquire into, but control the conduct
of your child;—she is yours, Edward, by a
tie nothing can break, and we both love you
too much to wish it. There is nothing you
may be more certain of, than that, without
the approbation of her parents, Emily would

accept of no offer, however splendid or agreeable
to her own wishes.”

“Nay, sister, I would not wish unduly
to influence my child in an affair of so much
importance to herself; but my interest in
Denbigh is little short of what I feel for my
daughter.”

“I trust,” continued Mrs. Wilson, “Emily
is too deeply impressed with her duty to
forget the impressive mandate, `to honour
her father and mother;' yes, Sir Edward,
I am mistaken if she would not relinquish
the dearest object of her affections, at your
request; and at the same time, I am persuaded
she would, under no circumstances,
approach the alter with a man she did not
both love and esteem.”

The baronet did not appear exactly to understand
his sister's distinction, as he observed,
“I am not sure I rightly comprehend the difference
you make, Charlotte.”

“Only, brother, that she would feel, a
promise made at the altar to love a man she
felt averse to, or honour one she could not
esteem, as a breach of a duty, paramount to
all earthly ones,” replied his sister; “but
to answer your question—Denbigh has never
offered, and when he does, I do not think he
will be refused.”

“Refused!” cried the baronet, “I sincerely
hope not; I wish, with all my heart,
they were married already.”

“Emily is very young,” said Mrs. Wilson,

“and need not hurry; I was in hopes she
would remain single a few years longer.”

Well,” said the baronet, “you and Lady
Moseley, sister, have different notions on this
subject of marrying the girls.”

Mrs. Wilson replied, with a good-humoured
smile, “you have made Anne so good a husband,
baronet, she forgets there are any bad
ones in the world; my greatest anxiety is,
that the husband of my niece may be a
christian; indeed, I know not how I can
reconcile it to my conscience, as a christian,
myself, to omit this important qualification.”

“I am sure, Charlotte, both Denbigh and
Egerton appear to have a great respect for
religion; they are punctual at church, and
very attentive to the service;” Mrs. Wilson
smiled, as he proceeded, “but religion may
come after marriage, you know.”

“Yes, brother, and I know it may not
come at all; no really pious woman can be
happy, without her husband is in what she
deems the road to future happiness himself;
and it is idle—it is worse—it is almost impious
to marry with a view to reform a husband;
indeed, she greatly endangers her own safety
thereby, for few of us, I believe, but what
find the temptation to err as much as we can
contend with, without calling in the aid of
example against us, in an object we love;
indeed, it appears to me, the life of such a
woman must be a struggle between conflicting
duties.”

“Why,” said the baronet, “if your plan
were generally adopted, I am afraid it would
give a deadly blow to matrimony.”

“I have nothing to do with generals, brother,
I am acting for individual happiness,
and discharging individual duties; at the same
time I cannot agree with you in its effects on
the community. I think no man who dispassionately
examines the subject, will be other
than a christian; and rather than remain
bachelors, they would take even that trouble;
if the strife in our sex was less for a husband,
wives would increase in value.”

“But how is it, Charlotte,” said the baronet
pleasantly, “your sex do not use your
power and reform the age?”

“The work of reformation, Sir Edward,”
replied his sister, gravely, “is an arduous
one indeed, and I despair of seeing it general,
in my day; but much, very much, might be
done towards it, if those who have the
guidance of youth, would take that trouble
with their pupils, that good faith requires of
them, to discharge the lesser duties of life.”

“Women ought to marry,” observed the
baronet, musing.

“Marriage is certainly the natural and
most desirable state for a woman,” rejoined
his sister; “but how few are there who,
having entered it, know how to discharge its
duties; more particularly those of a mother.
On the subject of marrying our daughters, for
instance, instead of qualifying them to make

a proper choice, they are generally left to
pick up such principles and opinions as they
may come at, as it were by chance; it is
true, if the parent be a christian in name,
certain of the externals of religion are observed;
but what are these, if not enforced by
a consistent example in the instructor?”

“Useful precepts are seldom lost, I believe,
sister,” said Sir Edward, with confidence.

“Always useful, my dear brother; but
young people are more observant than we are
apt to imagine, and are wonderfully ingenious
in devising excuses to themselves for their
conduct. I have often heard it offered as an
excuse, that father or mother knew it, or
perhaps did it, and therefore it could not be
wrong; association is all-important to a
child.”

“I believe no family of consequence admits
of improper associates, within my knowledge,”
said the baronet.

Mrs. Wilson smiled as she answered, “I am
sure I hope not, Edward; but are the qualifications
we require in companions for our
daughters, always such as are most reconcilable
with our good sense or our consciences;
a single communication with an objectionable
character is a precedent, if known
and unobserved, which will be offered to excuse
acquaintances with worse ones; with
the other sex especially, their acquaintance
should be very guarded and select.”

“You would make many old maids, sister,”
cried Sir Edward, with a laugh.

“I doubt it greatly, brother; it would rather
bring female society in demand. I often
regret that selfishness, cupidity, and a kind of
strife, which prevails in our sex, on the road
to matrimony, have brought celibacy into
disrepute; for my part, I never see an old
maid, but I am willing to think she is so from
choice or principle, and although not in her
proper place serviceable, by keeping alive
feelings necessary to exist, that marriages
may not become curses, instead of blessings.”

“A kind of Eddystone, to prevent matrimonial
shipwrecks,” said the brother gayly.

“Their lot may be solitary, baronet, and
in some measure cheerless, but infinitely preferable
to a marriage that may lead themselves
astray from their duties, or give birth
to a family, which are to be turned on the
world—without any religion but form—without
any morals but truisms—or without even
a conscience which has not been seared by
indulgence. I hope that Anne, in the performance
of her indulgent system, will have
no cause to regret its failure.”

“Clara chose for herself, and has done
well, Charlotte; and so I doubt not will
Jane and Emily; and I confess I think it is
their right.”

“It is true,” said Mrs. Wilson, “Clara
has done well, though under circumstances of
but little risk; she might have jumped into

your fishpond and escaped with life, but the
chances are she would drown; nor do I dispute
their right to choose for themselves;
but I say their rights extend to their requiring
us to qualify them to make their choice. I
am sorry, Edward, to be the instigator of
doubts in your breast of the worth of any
one, especially as it may give you pain.”
Here Mrs. Wilson took her brother affectionately
by the hand as she communicated what
she had overheard that evening. Although
the impressions of the baronet were not as
vivid or deep as those of his sister, his parental
love was too great not to make him
extremely uneasy under the intelligence; and
after thanking his sister for her attention to
his children's welfare, he kissed her, and
withdrew; in passing to his own room, he
met Egerton, that moment returned from
escorting the Jarvis ladies to their lodgings;
a task he had undertaken at the request of
Jane, as they were without any male attendant.
Sir Edward's heart was too full
not to seek immediate relief, and as he had
strong hopes of the innocence of the colonel,
though he could give no reason for his expectation,
he returned with him to the parlour,
and in a few words acquainted him with the
slanders which had been circulated at his expense;
begging him by all means to disprove
them as soon as possible. The colonel was
struck with the circumstance at first, but assured
Sir Edward, it was entirely untrue—he never
played, as he might have noticed, and that
Mr. Holt was an ancient enemy of his—he
would in the morning take measures to convince
Sir Edward, that he stood higher in the
estimation of his uncle, than Mr. Holt had
thought proper to state. Much relieved by
this explanation, the baronet, forgetting that
this heavy charge removed, he only stood
where he did before he took time for his inquiries,
assured him, that if he could convince
him, or rather his sister, he did not gamble,
he would receive him as a son-in-law,
with pleasure. The gentlemen shook hands
and parted.

Denbigh had retired to his room early, telling
Mr. Benfield he did not feel well, and
thus missed the party at supper; and by
twelve, silence prevailed in the house. As
usual, after a previous day of pleasure, the
party were late in assembling on the following,
yet Denbigh was the last who made his
appearance. Mrs. Wilson thought he threw a
look round the room as he entered, which
prevented his making his salutations in his
usual easy and polished manner; in a few
minutes, however, his awkwardness was removed,
and they took their seats at the table.
At the moment the door of the room was
thrown hastily open, and Mr. Jarvis entered
abruptly, and with a look bordering on wildness
in his eye—“Is she not here?” exclaimed
the merchant, scanning the company
closely.

“Who?” inquired all in a breath.

“Polly—my daughter—my child,” said
the merchant, endeavouring to control his
feelings; “did she not come here this morning
with Colonel Egerton?”

He was answered in the negative, and he
briefly explained the cause of his anxiety—
the colonel had called very early, and sent
her maid up to his daughter, who rose immediately;
they had left the house, leaving
word the Miss Moseleys had sent for her to
breakfast for a particular reason. Such was
the latitude allowed by his wife, that nothing
was suspected until one of the servants of the
house said he had seen Colonel Egerton and
a lady drive out of the village that morning
in a post-chaise and four. Then the old gentleman
first took the alarm, and proceeded
instantly to the lodge in quest of his daughter;
of their elopement there now remained
no doubt, and an examination into the state
of the colonel's room, who had been thought
not yet risen, gave assurance of it. Here
was at once sad confirmation that the opinion
of Mr. Holt was a just one. Although
every heart felt for Jane, during this dreadful
explanation, no eye was turned on her excepting
the stolen and anxious glances of her
sister; but when all was confirmed, and nothing
remained but to reflect or act upon the
circumstances, she naturally engrossed the
whole attention of her fond parents. Jane
had listened in indignation to the commencement

of the narrative of Mr. Jarvis, and
so firmly was Egerton enshrined in purity
within her imagination, that not until it was
ascertained that both his servant and clothes
were missing, would she admit a thought injurious
to his truth. Then indeed the feelings
of Mr. Jarvis, his plain statement, corroborated
by this testimony, struck her at
once as true; and as she rose to leave the
room, she fell senseless into the arms of
Emily, who observing her movement and
loss of colour, had flown to her assistance.
Denbigh had drawn the merchant out, in
vain efforts to appease him, and happily no
one witnessed this effect of Jane's passion
but her nearest relatives. She was immediately
removed to her own room, and, in a
short time, in bed with a burning fever; the
bursts of her grief were uncontrolled and
violent. At times she reproached herself—her
friends—Egerton:—in short, she was guilty of
all the inconsistent sensations that disappointed
hopes, accompanied by the consciousness
of weakness on our part, seldom fails to give
rise to; the presence of her friends was irksome
to her, and it was only to the soft and
insinuating blandishments of Emily's love,
that she would at all yield; perseverance
and affection at length prevailed, and as
Emily took the opportunity of some refreshments
to infuse a strong soporific, Jane lost
her consciousness of misery in a temporary
repose. In the mean time, a more searching
inquiry had been able to trace out the
manner and direction of the journey of the
fugitives.

It appeared the colonel left the lodge immediately
after his conversation with Sir Edward;
he slept at a tavern, and caused his
servant to remove his baggage at day-light;
here he had ordered a chaise and horses, and
then proceeded, as mentioned, to the lodgings
of Mr. Jarvis—what arguments he used with
Miss Jarvis to urge her to so sudden a flight,
remained a secret; but from the remarks of
Mrs. Jarvis and Miss Sarah, there was reason
to believe that he had induced them to
think from the commencement, that his intentions
were single, and Mary Jarvis their
object; how he contrived to gloss his attentions
to Jane, in such a manner as to deceive
those ladies, caused no little surprise; but it
was obvious it was done, and the Moseleys
were not without hopes his situation with
Jane would not make the noise in the world
such occurrences seldom fail to excite. In
the afternoon a letter was handed to Mr. Jarvis,
and by him immediately communicated
to the baronet and Denbigh, both of whom
he considered as among his best friends:—it
was from Egerton, and written in a respectful
manner; he apologised for his elopement,
and excused it on the ground of a wish to avoid
the delay of a license, or the publishing of
bans, as he was in hourly expectation of a
summons to his regiment; with many promises

of making an attentive husband, and
an affectionate son;—they were on the road to
Scotland, whence they intended immediately
to return to London, and wait the commands
of their parents. The baronet, in a voice
trembling with emotion at the sufferings of
his own child, congratulated the merchant
that things were no worse; while Denbigh
curled his lips as he read the epistle, and
thought settlements were a greater inconvenience
than the bans—for it was a well known
fact, a maiden aunt had left the Jarvises
twenty thousand pounds between them.