CHAPTER CXL.
[Chapter 149]
THE ENTRANCE INTO BATH. —A NEW SCENE. —THE HOTEL AND THE LODGINGS. —THE
ATTENTIONS OF SIR FRANCIS VARNEY.
After Sir Francis Varney had left the place where the Frasers were
sitting, there was a long silence, in which each of the party appeared to be
engaged in meditating deeply upon something or other, and yet each shrunk from
expressing them. The first who broke the silence was Captain Fraser, who
said, —
"Well, my dear, what do you think of our new acquaintance?"
"I think he is a most amiable man."
"Very courtly," observed his his sister.
"Yes; a sure sign of good breeding—of good company."
"He is that," said Captain Fraser. "I never met with one in whom
dignity, ease, and complete and unceremonious courtesy were so blended."
"And he appears to be a very kind and amiable man."
"But," said Miss Stevens, "he is also a very strange and a very singular
man—a very singular man indeed! I never saw such a man before, or any one
approaching him. What a strange complexion!"
"He has a singular complexion, and it strikes me he is well aware of it,
and that is the reason why he prefers a country to a town life; and his
solitariness, together with his manners, all indicate that his peculiarity in
this respect causes him much annoyance."
"I dare say it may," said Captain Fraser.
"I never saw anything so truly terrible!" said Charles.
"Hush! do not speak in that way, Charles; it is ungrateful."
"I hope not; it is merely the truth. I never saw a corpse so pale!
Indeed he is just such an one as you might imagine to have started out of a
grave with an unwholesome life, and whoever had resuscitated him had forgotten
to warm his blood, or to put blood into his veins."
"How very absurd you are, Charles! I am sure Sir Frances Varney deserves
better of you than that. You are under a great obligation to him. I feel
assured he feels the peculiarity of his complexion—I mean it has an effect
upon his mind; and, if we knew the cause of it, it is possible some
disinterested action, terminating in evil to himself, has been the cause of
it."
"Well, sister, I do not mean to say that you can admire such a visage;
but you ought not to say I am ungrateful, for I am not; and, moreover, I never
saw any gentleman whom I liked better—his conversation is quite superior;
but then, gratitude, surely, does not prevent one noticing so glaring a
circumstance."
"Certainly not," said Captain Fraser; "though I fancy it would be better
to remain silent upon such topics, if we cannot commiserate them."
"I think you are quite right, Fraser," said Mrs. Fraser; "he deserves
respect at our hands, and the less that is said in regard to his misfortunes
the better."
"I think the evening is getting very cool," said Miss Stevens; "will you
remain here any longer? —I shall return to the house."
"We may as well all go—especially if you feel chilly."
"I do."
"Then come along; to-morrow we shall be in Bath. Come, sister, you must
be quite well to share in the gaieties of the place. You know you said you
should have the greatest pleasure there—you have been anticipating it all
along."
"I did," said her sister.
"Well, but you will do so now. Why should your expectations not be
fulfilled? I can see no reason why they should not. Bath is a gay place, and
a city apparently made soley for the amusement of those who can pay for them."
"I have been so alarmed and terrified, sister."
"I know that, my dear; but you have had now two days' constant change of
scene, and lived, I may say, almost wholly in the open air, so that you ought
not now to be very nervous, sister."
"I might have been worse under other treatment," replied Miss Stevens;
"but at the same time you can have no idea of what it is to suffer from such
an outrage; you cannot conceive anything like it."
"I dare say not; I am sure it must have been dreadful."
"It must," said the captain; "but we will not say anything about a matter
so disagreeable and so inexplicable."
"Suppose we go in."
"With all my heart; we shall be in Bath to-morrow, and you will have
nothing to fear; how does your arm feel now?"
"Sore, but much of the inflammation has gone down; that I think will soon
be well, and then I shall be able to use it as I used to do; I don't think it
will leave any permanent injury of evil behind."
"I am glad of it," said the captain.
They now all returned to the inn, while the whole of the party passed the
remainder of the evening in company, retiring at an early hour with the view
of rising early for the purpose of getting into Bath in the afternoon, or
before the evening set in, at all events.
* * * * *
The next morning came, and with it a cloudless sky. They were all in
high health and spirits, and sat down to a breakfast that was especially
prepared for them.
"What has become of your protege?" said Mrs. Fraser to Sir Francis.
"I have not seen her this morning. I have not risen long, and I have had
no time to spare, but intend to see her before I go, and see that she has
means to reach Portsmouth in safety."
"Will you send for her here, Sir Francis?"
"Certainly, if you wish it," said Sir Francis; "I will tell the waiter to
inquire if she be ready, and, before she goes, to send her up."
"That will be the best."
This accordingly was done, and in about a quarter of an hour the poor
woman came up to the room; there were several alterations for the better in
her appearance, and she did not look so careworn and cast down as she had
done; she appeared thankful, and refreshed with rest and food.
"You are now ready to start, my good woman?" said Sir Francis.
"I am, sir, thanks to you."
"I wish you all possible success in your mission, and I hope your son may
be living, and prove grateful to you, as his mother."
"If living, I am sure he will, sir; and I do not doubt now but I shall be
able to meet with him, thanks to your bounty."
"I hope you may. Have they treated you well in the house, below?"
"Yes, very well, sir, and kindly."
"I am glad of it. Have you any food given you to carry you on your
road?"
"I have, thank you, sir."
"Then there remains now nothing to be done, but to give you some silver
to enable you to provide lodgings, and now and then a lift on the road."
"Thank you, sir," said the unfortunate widow, as she took the silver
which Sir Francis held out to her. She could only shed tears of gratitude;
and Miss Stevens added some to it from her own pocket.
"You have our best wishes," said Sir Francis Varney. "Go now; we have
done all we can for you—good day."
"God bless you," said the woman; "may you never experience misfortune, or
ever know the want of even luxuries; you who can give, deserve to have. The
poor and unfortunate have few such as you, sir, for benefactors."
"That will do," said Sir Francis. "Good day to you."
"Good day, ladies and gentlemen," said the woman, curtseying low, and
then turning round, she left the apartment.
"Poor thing," said Sir Francis, "she has a long journey before her. A
temporary aid given to poor people, often lifts them above want, and places
them in a decent position in society.
"So it does," said Mrs. Fraser.
"Yet, you see, people disclaim charity, and say private charity is
pernicious in its effects. But are there not two sides to any picture? An
individual might as well say it was pernicious to take medicine because people
sometimes poison thmesleves with some of the ingredients. Besides that, it
does good to the state; for it often prevents such a one from coming to the
state, and being a burthen upon society at large. I am really of opinion that
much temporary distress might by aid be avoided; while, without that aid, it
would, in all probability, become permanent."
"There is much wisdom in what you have said, Sir Francis; though you must
be aware that it opens a door to much abuse and reliance upon the charity of
others, which can scarcely be credible."
"Oh, yes; I expect there is an abuse of everything; but we do not, from
that, argue its total cessation."
At that moment the landlord entered the room, saying the carriage was
ready, as it had been ordered.
"Then we may as well at once proceed to the carriage, which is waiting,
and we are ready to depart."
"And," added Sir Francis, "I am ready too."
They once more left the house they had slept in, and the carriage again
bore them onwards towards the city of Bath, which was now only three short
stages from them; and where they could arrive at almost any hour they pleased,
if they chose rapid travelling; but this they did not, because it deprived
them of much of the pleasure of travelling —the views and beauties on the
road.
There were many gentlemen's seats on the road, which called forth comment
and admiration; as well as many smaller estates and houses, that were often
picturesquely situated, as well as lonely.
At length they came within sight of the famed city; and, each moment they
neared it, saw fresh evidences of a large and populous place. However, they
stopped not; but the closer they came to the town the faster they went, until
they were really within the city.
"Here we are in Bath at length," said Sir Francis. "It is a fine city,
and much of fashion and talent may be found here."
"I am glad we have arrived here at last," said Captain Fraser.
"And so am I," said Mrs. Fraser; "for I am almost tired of riding every
day. I begin to want rest; I want to stop for a time in one place."
"We get fatigued, even with a change," said the captain, "after a time;
and yet our lives are a complete round of change."
"Yes; if you consider the character of time."
They now stopped at one of the principal hotels, into which they all
entered, and ordered their dinner; and, while the ladies arranged themselves
for the occasion, Sir Francis Varney and Charles walked out into the town,
where they amused themselves with looking at the different objects which were
presented to the gaze of the stranger. In all these things Sir Francis
appeared to be well versed —knew what was now, and what had been formerly.
* * * * *
Two days had passed by, and there had been but little time lost, so far
as the visiting of one part of the city and another was concerned, and they
gradually became acquainted with and visited the different places of amusement
—at least, so many of them as could be visited by them in the time.
Sir Francis Varney was the chaperon; and, as he obtained attention and
consideration wherever he went, he was a valuable aid and assitance, and the
family had now got quite used to him, and he to the family.
The peculiarity of his countenance or complexion wore off, his pleasing
manners producing an effect that acted as an antidote to that, which was
likely to cause some peculiar feeling in all who looked at him; but his
courtly manners completely took from any one with whom he came in contact the
power and the desire to exhibit any dislike or aversion.
However, there was not one among all those who looked upon him who did
not look upon him with various emotions; but they were only such as result
from a source that acted upon their feelings and tastes, without producing any
deep or permanent emotion in any one.
Great care was taken by Sir Francis in dress, and his display was
altogether good, but there was no ostentation; his manners were those of a man
who was used to the position and sphere above what he even then moved in.
There was no mistake in the matter at all, and the Frasers were well
convinced that he was what he appeared to be; and there was, moreover, an
evident partiality for Miss Stevens manifested by him, which had already been
more than once remarked by the captain and his lady, who tacitly approved of
the honour, though nothing was broached on either side.
"Sir Francis appears to be a very gentlemanly man," said the captain.
"Very," said the lady —"very. I never saw one whom I could find so
little fault with; indeed, I may say he had none."
"That is a very extensive compliment, at all events," said the captain.
"No fault is a thing you can say of but very few people indeed."
"I mean, as far as personal behaviour is concerned. Of course I know
nothing more; his demeanour appears perfectly unexceptionable. I am sure I
never saw any one at all his equal in that respect."
"Perhaps not. He appears to be very attentive to your sister; indeed, I
should say he appears to be very partial."
"I think so too. What do you say to Sir Francis Varney, Mary," inquired
Mrs. Fraser, "as a lover, eh?"
"I cannot think of him in such a light," said Miss Stevens.
"And wherefore not?" inquired the captain.
"Because I could not bear the idea. I don't know why—I can't tell you;
but I could not do so—it would be against my nature to accept of such a
lover. It would much pain me to refuse one who had done so much for me; but I
could not accept of him."
"Upon my word you appear to feel strangely upon this matter," said the
captain; "but I think you might think twice before you answered thus."
"No; think how much I might, it could make no alteration in my mind; for
the more gratefully I think, and the more I endeavour to be, yet the stronger
would be my repugnance to have such a man for a lover."
"Dear me, Mary! how can you say so?"
"I do indeed."
"Ah, well! girls will be girls; but he has not done you the distinguished
honour to ask you, so you must not refuse in anticipation. You may consider
the grapes are sour because they hang so high."
"You ask me a question, to which I have given you the best answer I can
upon the moment. Besides, we know nothing of Sir Francis."
"We know enough of him, I think, to speak and think with the utmost
gratitude of him. Not that that should make any of us overlook the
precautions that are usual on such occasions. And as for your opinion, why,
that might be amended by time; and I am sure that what we do know of him is
enough to cause us to respect him, and to have confidence in him. He has not
sought our acquaintance, and that is one guarantee in his favour."
"So it is."
"But all this is useless. Sir Francis appears very sensitive. He is of
retired habits and tastes, and, perhaps, something of that may result from the
disadvantage under which he lies, which he may feel severely."
"So he might; and, therefore, I would never, if I could help it, make any
personal allusion of any character before him, even though I were speaking of
some one else, and it had no reference to him, as he might apply it to
himself."
"That is quite right, and just what [i]t ought to be."
—