“thine honour is my life, both grow in one,
take honour from me and my life is done!”
shakspeare.
the earl of dashleigh had suffered more acutely from the departure of his wife, than annabella or the world believed. he missed her presence in his home more painfully than even to himself he would own. the nobleman was, as i have said, not of a hard disposition, and by nature was of a sociable temperament. pride had indeed drawn around him an icy barrier which greatly shut him out from friendly intercourse with his neighbours, but this very isolation made him the more dependent upon the few with whom he could stoop to associate. dashleigh had scarcely been aware of how much pleasure he had derived from his wife’s wit and lively conversation, till he found himself suddenly thrown on his own resources which were limited, and his own reflections which were unpleasant. he wandered listlessly through his long suite of apartments; their splendid decorations made them but appear to their[141] owner more empty, desolate, and dull. yet dashleigh dared not quit them for more cheerful scenes, for he felt, with the instinctive shrinking of a shy, proud, sensitive man, that his domestic concerns were now the theme of a thousand tongues and that he could appear in no place where he would not be an object of observation and remark. solitude was hateful to the peer, but society would have been yet more distasteful.
and dashleigh was not satisfied with himself. the words of augustine aumerle, pleading for an inexperienced girl doing a foolish thing from a sudden ebullition of temper, often recurred to the mind of the husband. a thousand times the questions would force themselves on his mind. “have i not been harsh to annabella? might i not have overlooked a fault? would not a little indulgence have touched a warm heart like hers, and have made her destroy with her own hand what she knew must have given me offence? was not the entrance of the duke at that most unfortunate moment when i myself had given way to passion, sufficient to irritate beyond all power of self-control a woman—a wife—and a peeress!” there was much of candour, much of generosity in the spirit of dashleigh, and so strong did his self-reproach become, that the earl felt greatly disposed to pass a sponge over the past, and exchange mutual forgiveness with his wife. but then the first advance must be on her side; pride[142] peremptorily insisted on that. if annabella were penitent, reginald would be generous, but never would he degrade himself by suing for reconciliation, however fervently he might desire it.
thus day passed after day, each more intolerable than the last, reginald always hoping that the pride of his young partner might give way, and yearning for the supplicating letter which might give him an excuse for forgiving.
one morning, as the earl of dashleigh sat at his solitary breakfast, he listlessly took up the last number of the —— magazine, which the footman had, according to custom, placed beside the plate of his master. light reading was that to which the earl could alone now bend his attention, and his thoughts often wandered as he glanced carelessly down the page. he was however instantly attracted by the name “dashleigh” in capital letters on the sheet of advertisements, and read with a surprise which almost mastered even his indignation,—
now in the press.
the fairy lake: a romance. by the
countess of dashleigh.
“this is indeed throwing away the scabbard; this is indeed making a parade of insolent disregard of my wishes and commands! i hardly expected this from annabella!” such was the nobleman’s muttered exclamation, as he pushed back his chair from the table. but his feelings received a far ruder shock[143] when he examined the periodical more closely. he gazed on “the precipice and the peer,” as it seemed to glare upon him from the close-printed column, as if he scarcely could believe the evidence of his senses! could it be,—yes—the initial and the dash could not deceive him, could deceive no one who knew him! annabella had held him up to the ridicule of the world, as a poor, nervous, spiritless wretch,—it was revenge, mean, despicable revenge, a blow aimed at the most vulnerable point!
the earl did not tear the periodical, and scatter its fragments on the wind, he knew that it was spreading at that hour through the halls and even cottages of the land; that it was lying on the tradesman’s counter, in the servant’s hall; that schoolboys were laughing over the peer’s adventure during the intervals of more active sport! dashleigh laid down the magazine quietly, but with something resembling a groan! bardon had said that he would wince,—he did more, he actually writhed under the torture inflicted by the hand of his wife!
the servants, wondering at the delay of the accustomed ring, came at length unsummoned, and bore away the untasted breakfast. dashleigh felt annoyed at the jingling sound, but scarcely comprehended its cause, and only experienced a sense of relief when the room became silent again. his reflections were bitter indeed; he was almost too wretched to be angry. was he not a disgraced, an insulted man?—did[144] not his very rank make him only a more prominent mark for ridicule? could he ever show his face again in circles which he had once deemed honoured by his presence? the time-darkened portraits of deceased earls of dashleigh seemed to scowl down from their heavy gilt frames on the first of the name who had ever been branded with the imputation of fear!
a servant brought a letter on a salver; the earl mechanically broke open the seal. it was from the vicar, lawrence aumerle, and had been written in the first impulse of his indignant surprise on the appearance of the obnoxious article which he could not doubt had been written by his niece.
the clergyman, with instinctive delicacy, avoided all direct reference to the piece so indiscreetly composed by annabella; but he expressed the extreme distress felt by both his family and himself at the position in which she had placed herself. he entreated her husband to believe that if he gave the lady the protection of his home, it was not because he sanctioned or even palliated her more than imprudent conduct, but that he feared that harshness might drive her from a place where unceasing efforts were made to bring her to a sense of her duty.
“lawrence aumerle is a good man,” said the earl, passing his hand across his brow, and leaning thoughtfully back in his chair. “since all connexion between me and her is broken now for ever—for ever,[145] better that the wretched girl should remain under the protection of her mother’s relations. it were worse, far worse that her pride and folly should be pampered by intercourse with the world,—that world to which she has sacrificed her husband!”
dashleigh arose and paced slowly the length of the room, but returned with a more rapid step. the name of aumerle had suddenly suggested to him a course by which he could fling from himself the opprobrium which attaches to the name of a coward. he grasped at the new idea with the energy of a drowning wretch. the world should have no cause to laugh at the man whose nerves had failed him on the heights of a mountain; he would do that which should from henceforth effectually silence such reproach. taking up writing materials, dashleigh with rapid hand traced the following note to augustine:—
“dear aumerle,—you mentioned to me that a balloon is to ascend from your grounds on the 12th. i should feel greatly obliged by your reserving a place for me in the car, as it is my particular wish to make one in the excursion.—ever yours,
“dashleigh.”
the brief note written and despatched to aspendale, the nobleman breathed more freely. he could meet the eye of his fellow-men. pride rendered the effort needful; pride roused his spirit to make it, and dashleigh would not now pause to consider how great that effort might be to one of his nervous[146] frame. he felt that his honour was at stake. the earl was somewhat in the position of the knight of old, whose lady flung her glove into the arena where a fierce lion and tiger were contending, and before a circle of noble spectators, bade him bring it back to her hand. the knight dreaded the laugh of the audience more than the yells of the furious beasts, and dashleigh shrank from the sneer of the world more than the untried perils of the air. annabella had put her husband on his mettle; she had incited him to wrestle down nature; but it remained to be seen whether she had cause to triumph in the effect produced by her satirical pen.
