Page images
PDF
EPUB
[blocks in formation]

Catherine Danvers was an orphan, left when scarcely ten years old to the guardianship of her father's friend, Mr. Sibley; under whose roof she was henceforth domiciled, and educated with his only daughter, a girl of about the same age. When Catherine and Laura Sibley were about fourteen, they were sent to a "finishing" school, for private instruction was in those days less common than it is at present, and there it was that a youthful friendship was formed between aunt Jessy and themselves. She was a year or two their senior, and doubtless was at first looked up to with becoming deference and respect; but every month lessened the apparent difference in their age, and when all left school, a great intimacy between the families ensued, though aunt Jessy remembers she was always called "Catherine's friend."

How pretty a thing to mark is that same girlish friendship! How beautiful to watch are all youthful emotions! But alas! how often do they prove though "sweet not lasting!" A girl's first friendship partakes something of the character of her first love; there is the same blind devotion, the same enthusiasm, the same warping of different minds to a fancied point of resemblance, the same trusting faith that is often so bitterly requited. Yet as love is sometimes found to be-first, last, and onlyand to exist elsewhere besides in the "turtle's nest," so is friendship sometimes found to be more than "a name.'

Aunt Jessy married when little more than twenty, and left London to reside in Devonshire. It had been agreed that her bridesmaids, Catherine and Laura, should each pass three months with her, and it was settled that Laura should pay the visit first. Catherine was left at home with Mr. and Mrs. Sibley, to whom she was almost as dear as their own child, and it was immediately after the departure of the latter that she first saw Arthur Vane. In Catherine's letters to aunt Jessy, she named him at first in terms of high admiration as a most delightful acquisition to the circle of their acquaintances; gradually she ceased mentioning him, even in answer to the interrogations she had drawn on herself; then her letters became shorter, more confused, or laboured in style; and at last contained little else than the most commonplace topics, except strong expressions of regret at her separation from her dear Jessy. But it is time to describe both Catherine and Laura, for they were as dissimilar in mind as in person.

The portrait of Laura Sibley represents a tall, fine-looking girl, with bright dark eyes, and a profusion of raven tresses, arched brows, and finely chiselled nose, with lips that would have been beautiful if they had not contracted, as if in opposition to their natural form a certain expression of indecision. I believe she was a coquette by nature, but many of her faults were those of education.

Though wavering and inconstant, she was for the time-being self-willed and obstinate, and above all intensely selfish. And yet there was something in her manner and conversation, that something which can only be expressed by the word fascination, that took hearts by storm; and though it must be owned they were often re-captured by a humbler beauty, she had always a troop of lovers at her feet.

I have seen a miniature of Catherine Danvers, the delicate and highly-finished painting of which seems the proper style in which to represent fea tures cast in so truly feminine a mould. The hair is the rich brown of a chesnut, and the eyes of a deep violet blue, somewhat sunken, though beautiful in expression, and impressing one with an idea, perhaps, of reserve and timidity, but certainly of deep thought and feeling. It is a poet's ideal of a being to be loved, protected, and cherished :—

"A spirit, yet a woman too ;"

66

not to be worshiped, because she is a woman; and if not to be obeyed, only because the "spirit" within is too wise and too gentle to command. And faithful interpreters both countenances were. Laura was already a petted and capricious spoiled child, unaccustomed to yield where it was possible to govern, when little Kate became the inmate of her father's house. As is too often the case, the generous simple-hearted child, with a mind more con templative than acute, easily yielded to the shrewd, clever, worldly girl, whom she never dreamed of thwarting. It is not true that in the social intercourse of life, the superior mind always controls the weaker; the reverse is indeed a dreadful subjection, but it is a common one. Take, for example, the highest degrees-does not genius slowly struggle forward, while talent, or mere cleverness, gallops?

Indeed, it must be owned that as they grew up, Laura was the more generally admired, a homage which Kate seemed willingly to yield her as a matter of right. The one gloried in universal admiration, the other desired the entire devotion of a single heart; and oh, how rich a jewel would she have bartered in return! It may be argued that it is fair to use her own weapons with a coquette; but even she is a woman, and therefore, at some point, her heart is vulnerable: and to trifle with such a nature as that of Catherine Danvers, is a cruel sin, and he who does so deliberately is a destroyer of earthly peace, a wretch that should be shunned as a loathsome pestilence. I do not say that Arthur Vane so acted, for he was young and thoughtless, not vicious or unfeeling. Had Laura been at home, it is probable he would have joined her crowd of worshippers, and Kate, unsought, unwooed, would have remained still "fancy free." As it was, she loved as woman often loves. She had formed an idol by her own pure and rich imagination, and having found a living shrine, endowed it with the attributes of her self-created deity. For three months Arthur Vane seemed to live but in her presence; actions, looks, and manners proclaimed "I love you." Yet those words had never passed his lips; and thus, accord

ing to his code of honour, there was no wrong in his fickleness.

| he then account for his new sensations? The truth was, that like three-fourths of his sex, he was very accessible to flattery, provided of course that it was carefully prepared and judiciously administered. I would advise all bunglers in the art of flattery to refrain entirely from the exercise of it, for they only appear ridiculous, and themselves become dupes instead of rulers. But in as a fairy's wand, and one, on the uses, abuses, and moral influence of which, a very instructive essay might be written. Laura had an intuitive knowledge of the science, which she had greatly enlarged by practice; and she would have underher own power, had she for a moment doubted of success.

Catherine came to pay her promised visit in Devonshire, and Laura Sibley returned to London. Her friends observed that Catherine was thinner and paler, though a hectic flush now and then lent an uncertain bloom to her fair complexion. The eye of affection soon detected that she was not happy, and aunt Jessy-herself a youthful bride-the hands of the skillful it is as mighty a sceptre guessed nearly the truth. It was on a summer evening, when twilight was spread like a mantle round the earth, and had grown dark enough to hide her tears and blushes, that Kate leaned her head on her friend's shoulder, and poured forth the secret of her soul. When love is mutual-rated prosperous smiled on by fortune-approved by friends-when all is drawn into one "knot of happiness," it is too proud and joyous a thing to ask the sympathy of friendship. But with Kate, distrustful of herself, and looking up to her idol as a star above her, her mind torn asunder by hope and fear, to lay open to her dearest friend the wounds of her heart was to soothe if not to heal them. Alas! if she had possessed that fabled mirror which had power to shadow forth the absent, she would have beheld the following scene. At that very moment Laura Sibley was the observed and admired of a ball-room. Her hand had been sought for the dance by many, though she seemed to pay exclusive attention to one only among them. She had adopted, on that occasion, a sentimental air, and was resting languidly in her chair, over the high back of which leaned Arthur Vane. A faint smile was on her lip, but her eyes were cast down, apparently observing the painting on her fan, which she was restlessly unfurling. The ears, however, sometimes remain open, though the eyes are busily engaged; and assuredly Laura lost not one word that was whispered, rather than spoken, by her new adorer. He quoted poetry, at which she sighed gently; for though she never read poetry herself, she felt instinctively that a sigh, accompanied by an exclamation of "beautiful !" or "how true!" was both a safe and an orthodox rejoinder. Altogether it was a scene very like those which are nightly witnessed in a modern ball-room, with this difference, that "Lalla Rookh" and the "Beauties of Byron," are now text books which are usually preferred to the elder poets.

On Laura's arrival in London she had been introduced to Arthur Vane, but it piqued her vanity to find that he did not immediately join her train of admirers. With the pitiable weakness which was common to her character, she determined to bring him to her feet. Not that her heart was concerned in the triumph-no, her heart, or as much as she possessed of one, had already been given to another; but that other, one too who was in all points the inferior of Arthur Vane-that other had recently slighted her, and those who know anything of a coquette's nature will easily divine the workings of her mind. She had a double motive to will a conquest, and gifted with a witchery of manner, before alluded to, with her to will was to achieve. Arthur Vane was dazzled and bewildered; he had thought himself interested in, almost in love with Kate, how could

No one can have passed a few years in society without remarking that persons like Laura are precisely those, who, in the conventional phrase, “make the best matches;" but I do not use best in its literal and real sense. I grant it must be difficult to discover the hidden qualities of heart and mind, which, like the richest gems, lie deepest-but like these they are worth the seeking. How different had been Arthur's intercourse with Kate Danvers! The words of praise or of encouragement trembled on her lips, or half of them were driven back unuttered; the very truth and strength of her love, and yet more, that innate modesty which it is marvellous to think is often mistaken for coldness, deprived her, like poor Cordelia, of the power of eloquent speech. It would, perhaps, be doing him injustice to say that he was aware, to the full extent, of the havoc he had caused, though, indeed, in two or three instances he had acted in a similar manner. If his mind reverted to them at all, it was only to consider his time as pleasantly and harmlessly spent; for he held himself perfectly blameless, and prated about “* honour," like a hundred others, who, in one sense at least, show a terrible ignorance of its meaning. On the night of the ball referred to, believing himself deeply in love with Laura Sibley, and his vanity being gratified by her seeming preference, he proposed to her in due form. The lady affected to be surprised and agitated, and demanded a week to deliberate. At that moment she intended to reject him; but she received intelligence in the course of the evening which altered her determination.

She had believed that the fact of Arthur Vane's offer, the tidings of which she intended pretty widely to circulate, would bring him, the really loved, to her feet. Not so-her coquetry had long since cured him, and when Laura carelessly asked of a mutual friend, who was the fair young creature with whom he was dancing-she was answered that it was one to whom his vows were already plighted. She did not faint, she did not scream, for feelings of anger mingling with an unconquerable pride, prevented anything so disagreeable as "a scene;" but assuming as much composure as was possible, she took her place in the set which was just forming. The figure was one in which partners were exchanged, and for a few moments her hand rested in that of her sometime lover. There was not on his part the slight

est emotion, and he even addressed her on some common-place topic. She felt that she was scorned, and determined in her turn to enjoy a triumph. Arthur Vane was handsome, well born, and rich; it would be easy again to lead the conversation to the subject of his hopes-she resolved she would do so, and accept him at once. The next day it was buzzed about in the coterie to which all parties belonged, that Laura Sibley was engaged to Arthur Vane.

For once rumour's many tongues told truth. The consent of parents was asked and obtained, preliminaries arranged, and the period of further probation, after a little while, reduced to three months. Mrs. Sibley wrote to aunt Jessy, on whom devolved the task of breaking the intelligence to poor Kate; and the tears were in the dear old lady's eyes while she related the manner in which it was received. Not a word of reproach escaped the lips of Catherine Danvers; but she upbraided herself for what she called her unwomanly feelings, and sinking on her knees, as if she were some guilty thing, implored her friend to respect her secret. Aunt Jessy had sufficient strength of mind to feel, despite the prejudices of education, that Kate was a victim-not a culprit; and as the sincere are always the eloquent, she in some measure succeeded in moderating Kate's self-condemnation. The poor girl entreated to remain with aunt Jessy instead of returning to town, where she had been invited to be present at the wedding; but the canker wound of a blighted heart was beyond a cure, however much the voice of reason and friendship might eventually restore self-respect.

Meanwhile the courtship of the betrothed was not, at least to Arthur Vane, by any means so happy a period as he had anticipated. Even during that time of proverbial mental blindness, he had a glimmering of Laura's real character; as "charm by charm unwound, which robed his idol," he perceived that she was vain and selfish; he more than suspected her acquirements to be superficial, and he felt certain that her temper was far from perfect. But he had asked her to be his wife-in the world's eye they were pledged; and though, if he could have purchased his freedom by the sacrifice of half his fortune, he would willingly have done so he held it as a point of honour that he must fulfil his engagement.

From the experience of a long life, aunt Jessy is a firm believer in moral retribution, and she always maintained that the wretchedness of Arthur Vane's marriage was a just punishment for his conduct to Kate. If the happiest existence be that which is most calm and serene, so I should think the most miserable must be that which is made up of constant petty annoyances. There is generally a sort of dignity connected with great calamities, which, while it lifts the sufferer above common sympathy, places him in some measure beyond the need of it. Besides, such events usually come to chequer a life that has bright and happy days between; but the victim of domestic infelicity knows only one sombre and cheerless existence; and there is a kind of shame connected with his grievances, which shuts him out from the

solace of talking about them. I do believe that such an existence wears down health, spirits, and temper, just as the dropping of water will wear away a stone; and that it has hurried hundreds to a premature grave, who would have endured what are called great afflictions with courage and fortitude.

I cannot call to mind any clever pen that has yet delineated in language as far removed from affectation as from satire, the minute detail of the common every-day misery of an ill-assorted union; but, if I dared venture on such untrodden ground, the limit of these pages would not admit it. Enough that Arthur Vane and Laura very soon approached and passed the rubicon of indifference, and advanced with hasty strides to a feeling of positive mutual dislike. Once, a few months after their marriage, Kate Danvers summoned courage to accept their invitation, and she passed a week with them. But it was a trial to her own feelings, which she resolved never again to inflict on herself; and soon afterwards a new era opened in her life, and circumstances placed her for a time beyond the probability of their meeting.

On coming of age, it was found that the trustees who had had the charge of her moderate fortune, instead of improving, had made use of a great portion of it; and when the amount of her education was deducted, there remained only a few hundred pounds, instead of the competence she had been taught to expect. Kate Danvers, albeit so gentle and feminine a character, had too proud and independent a spirit to remain a burden on any of the kind friends who volunteered to assist or receive her; though happily, most happily, however much she afterwards endured, she was at that time too ignorant of the world to anticipate the crushed and blighted existence which generally awaitsthe governess! And to undertake the task of tuition is the only alternative that remains for the well-born, well-educated woman, when thrown for support on her own resources.

What a strange and disgraceful anomaly is it in English society, that the very step which ought to entitle a gentlewoman to additional admiration and respect, on the contrary, entails on her the loss of caste. This is an incontrovertible fact, though one which is often reluctantly admitted. As a class, I believe, governesses may be considered extremely estimable and deserving, yet they are among the most oppressed. If the reader doubt this, I would call his attention to a startling evidence; namely, that in lunatic asylums an amazing proportion of the patients consists of this class. Again, I would ask him to look round the circle of his acquaintance, and comparing the governess with her more fortunate contemporaries, decide if her wrongs have not added, in health and personal appearance, the weight of many years: Nay, compare her with the actress, whose life is acknowledged to be of all the most wearing, and the result will be in a degree the same. But better days are coming, thanks to the generous talented writers who have thrust the subject forward. Their advent is near, and there will be a time when the governess shall take her proper station in society; when she shall be treated as the

and

honoured and welcome guest, instead of the hired member of an establishment; when her days shall not all be passed either in solitude, with those among whom her presence seems tolerated rather than desired; or in the constant society of children, compelled to lower thoughts and conversation to their standard, or to pursue, even in the hours misnamed of relaxation, an unprofessed course of instruction, by raising their thoughts to hers. The first alternative is by comparison the brightest-the last, the most wearying and depressing. And above all, the days are coming when it will need no moral courage for the well-born, well-bred "gentleman" to hear it said, "his wife was a governess."

I must ask the pardon of my readers for this long digression, but I wish them to sympathize with Kate Danvers, and to understand and appreciate her character. In her new position there must have been many temptations to regain her former station by marriage; and though Kate was never guilty of the meanness of boasting of her conquests, there can be no doubt that she had the opportunity of marrying more than once. However this might be, the friend who knew her best declared that she was true to the sentiment of her early love. She had loved, "not wisely, but too well;" and though some there be who would rail at a constancy that was indeed to be regretted, they should remember that the greatest of mankind-that those to whom the mysteries of the human heart have been unfolded like a scroll-that they it is, those master spirits of the earth, who have bequeathed to us, on the glowing pages of genius, the records of undying love. And if there be sceptics who would doubt such authority, on what soil of this great globe can they have lived, if they have not, in their own experience, met with some evidences at least of woman's lasting love? There are many reasons why love is more absorbing in a woman's nature than a man's; indeed it should be so. Scarcely more distinct are the orbits of the planets, than the duties of the sexes; and the jarring elements of society warns us, as would the convulsions of nature, when they diverge from their allotted paths. And it would be wise for a high-minded woman to feel content with a love, deep, unswerving and sincere, and not to demand of the object of her adoration-yes, adoration is the proper word-not to ask that his heart, mind, and intellect should be, as her own are, saturated by the affections.

The heart, mind, and intellect of Kate Danvers had been thus saturated by her love for Arthur Vane, and perhaps it was only the necessity for exertion which aroused her in some measure from her mental sufferings. Gradually the intensity of her feelings ebbed like a tide away, leaving, indeed, a wreck behind, but restoring also some degree of tranquillity to her heart, and a mind made wiser by the experience of misery-which is indeed the dearly-bought knowledge of good and evil. Settled in the north of England, she passed several years without visiting London, though she heard occasionally from Laura, whose letters revealed the fact that she was anything but happy in her married life. Latterly Mrs. Vane had requested Kate to become the instructress of her only child,

but it was declined. Kate could now have been content to witness their happiness, but she would not inflict on herself the trial or temptation of be holding their mutual dissensions. Still she felt a strong interest in the unseen daughter, and the promise that she should become her pupil was an inducement for her to embark the money she possessed in forming a partnership with the proprietress of a school in the environs of town. This was in every respect a change for the better. It is true the arduous duties of tuition still remained, but these she had never considered as a trial, and she had now a freedom of will and action, and, above all, little Ellen Vane on whom to lavish her warmest affections. By degrees the child became attached to her, and began infinitely to prefer school to home; no wonder, for with parents who disagree, and among an ill-assorted household, children are always neglected, or at least ill-managed and unhappy.

Years passed on-but age seldom improves the temper, or makes the heart more sincere or generous. The Vanes were less united than ever. Ellen, however, was idolized by her father; and when he listened to her prattle, that told how good, and kind, and clever Miss Danvers was, memory perhaps flew back to days gone by, with sighs of regret for the choice he had made. As for his own character, the good that was in it had been slowly drawn forth, and he was now a far more estimable person than he had been in his youth. From many circumstances aunt Jessy was certain that he looked back on his conduct to Kate with the self-condemnation it deserved. Once when she was the subject of conversation, he spoke of her in the highest and most respectful terms; and though they met but seldom, he always treated her with a marked deference.

Ellen Vane was by this time a tall, graceful girl of fourteen, with mind informed, tastes refined and cultivated, and more than all, principles implanted, and the best feelings of her nature properly directed. Her doating father believed he saw in her the shadow of Kate's character, and fancied even that the tone of her voice and the choice of her expressions resembled those of her instructress. Ellen, with a beauty of person equal to her mother's, was indeed a being for that mother to love and cherish, to watch over and hope for. But Laura acted no such part; she was too innately selfish to endure that another should elicit admiration in her presence, even though that other were her daughter; and she felt supremely jealous of the child's love for Kate. But it must have been the mingling of many bad passions which led to her last guilty act. If principles she had never had-if womanly feelings had all flown-how could she crown that pure, innocent creature with a garland of shame? how could she leave her beautiful, her only child, for ever?

Kate Danvers and her pupil were together. It was not during regular school hours, but they sat in one corner of a large drawing-room, where a French window opening on to the lawn, admitted the rich perfume of the garden flowers. Ellen was kneeling before a large folio which she had placed on a chair near her friend; with one hand

she held back the clustering ringlets which would have overshadowed the page, and with the other eagerly pointed out the beautiful specimens of plants it contained (for she had just begun the study of botany), looking up every now and then for information or explanation, and then with sparkling eyes and flushing cheek, exhausting her own little stock of knowledge. There is something sweet and holy in the contemplation of youth and innocence; it steals over the senses like the odour of flowers, the summer breeze, or the sound of music. It is a sweet picture, when simplicity is not folly, and beauty is unconscious of itself!

It was at that moment that a letter was delivered to Miss Danvers. On breaking the seal, she found an enclosure, beneath the superscription of which were the words "To be read when you are alone." With a feeling of terror she withdrew to ascertain its contents. The letter was from Arthur Vane, to tell her that his wife had left her home-had eloped with almost a stranger, a young man half a dozen years her junior! He told her that the few hours which had elapsed had been sufficient time for him to determine that Ellen's heart should not be blighted by the knowledge of her mother's shame. To her she was henceforth dead; and he implored Kate to be guilty of one act of deception, and to break to his daughter the awful intelligence as if she were really so. He desired that she might immediately assume deep mourning, as he, for her sake, would do, and concluded by repeating his opinion that such a belief would be to Ellen, both now and hereafter, a lesser pang than the knowledge of the truth.

Kate felt stunned. It was one of those events which cannot be believed on the instant-which the reason is dull at comprehending. At last a flood of tears relieved her, and she sank sobbing on her couch. She was aroused by Ellen Vane kissing her forehead, and twining her arms round her neck; and then and there, pointing to the black seal of the letter Kate yet under some faint pretence withheld, Ellen was told that her only remaining parent would be with her in a few hours -that he would come to console her-that her mother was lost to her for ever-that she no longer lived. Surely if falsehood might ever be excused, this was pardonable.

Whether busy or idle, whether happy or sad, time still passes steadily on, yet every one can remember some epoch at which events succeeded one another so rapidly, as to leave over a certain space of time a crowded chronicle, seeming to stretch, on memory's scroll, far beyond its proper limits. Such a space of time was the next year in the life of Catherine Danvers.

Arthur Vane was too proud a man to desire a pecuniary recompence for his wife's dishonour, but still he had recourse to the only means by which he could obtain a divorce. Perhaps he felt pity for Laura, and was willing to afford her the opportunity of receiving the only reparation in her seducer's power; perhaps he had thought or hoped of forming another union himself, or possibly he was unconscious of the combined motives which influenced his conduct. But I must

pause for a moment, to follow the guilty woman. Deceived and deserted, in a few months she was reduced to the most degraded and friendless condition. She did not apply to one of the many who had formerly courted or admired her, or to those who had mixed in the same giddy vortex as herself: she knew that such would shrink from her, as from a pestilence, even some among them who were but a few shades less guilty than herself. But she remembered that Kate Danvers had never, in the pride of her own excellence, spoken harshly or unfeelingly even of the most vicious; and on the desolate bed of sickness, in misery, and poverty that had almost deprived her of the necessaries of life, she wrote to her early playmate, imploring that she might see her once more. Kate hastened on her charitable errand; but in the daily visits which followed, she did more than relieve those wants which her purse could remove. led an erring fellow creature to repentance, and smoothed her passage to the grave.

She

It was on her return from one of these visits that she found Mr. Vane waiting to see her. She was glad of the circumstance, for she had been for some time seeking an opportunity to break to him the situation of Laura. It was the wish nearest her heart that she might be the messenger of forgiveness to the dying woman. But Arthur Vane had come on a very different mission. Free, by his country's laws, to make a second choice, and now loving Catherine Danvers with a stronger, deeper, truer passion than he had ever dreamed of in his youth, he felt unable to endure the suspense which silence imposed. He was determined to hear his doom from her own lips.

Absorbed in sorrow for Laura's shame and misery-accustomed for fifteen years to consider Arthur Vane as the husband of another, she had not noted many things which might have declared his sentiments to her. The memory even of her early and misplaced love had been kept like a buried treasure strewn over by the ashes of those youthful feelings which itself had kindled; but it could not be disinterred on the moment. listened to his protestations like one stricken with astonishment, till, at last, mistaking her silence for coldness or indifference, he threw himself before her more like a raving boy than one whom years at least should have sobered-exclaiming, “Kate, you scorn me, and are avenged!"

She

But she made no gesture of triumph; a convulsive sob was her only rejoinder, and she did not instantly withdraw the hand he had clasped, but suffered him to press it to his heart, and to cover it with passionate kisses. Then seeming suddenly to regain her self-possession, and to awake to the consciousness of the truth, she raised her eyes to his, and said in a low firm voice, "We can be only friends while she lives!"

It is not worth while further to describe that most important interview. Enough, that though the unhappy Laura lingered several months, no word of love was again murmured to Kate until the grave had closed over the guilty wife. The gradual approach of death gave her time for repentance, and almost her last act was to join the hands of Kate and Arthur. She yearned to see

« PreviousContinue »