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 BIRTHS, 
 DEATHS, AND MARRIAGES. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 SAYINGS & DOINGS ;" « MAXWELL ;' " JACK BRAG ;' 
 
 &c. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. 1. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 
 1839.
 
 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 AND 
 
 MARRIAGES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " You are a very wise gentleman! — and a 
 very fine gentleman ! — at least in your own 
 conceit : nevertheless, ' Pride will have a fall,'' 
 and you and your daughter will live to repent 
 what you are doing : that you may rely upon. 
 However, it is no affair of mine : I don't care, 
 it won't hurt me." 
 
 So said Mr. Jacob Batley to his brother 
 John, during one of many discussions in which 
 they were in the habit of indulging, touching 
 their worldly pursuits. Jacob was a merchant 
 who had made a fortune and retired. John, a 
 younger son, had entered life in a Government- 
 
 VOL. I. B 

 
 2 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 office, had held place under a feverish admini- 
 stration, and had for some time represented one 
 of those select but judicious constituencies to 
 which the nation is indebted for its final know- 
 ledge of tlie merits and powers of such men as 
 Pitt and Fox, Burke, Sheridan, Brougham, 
 Romilly, and indeed of all men of genius and 
 ability, against whom the doors of the House 
 of Commons would have been closed if each of 
 their discriminating patrons had not chanced 
 to have a private key of them in their pockets. 
 The different courses which the brothers had 
 pursued had naturally produced a wide and 
 striking difference in their habits and man- 
 ners, their modes of thinking and of acting. 
 Jacob, who had stuck to the shop till it grew 
 into a warehouse and he himself was trans- 
 formed from a trader to a merchant, was one 
 of tliose men who are coiled, as it were, within 
 themselves, and, like that little animal which is 
 classically known and delicately called the Onis- 
 cns Armadillo^ roll themselves up out of harm's 
 way the moment anything like trouble or dan- 
 ger approaches.
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 3 
 
 John, on the contrary, was polished, politic, 
 and plausible: he could promise with fluency, 
 and refuse with grace and elegance. He had 
 flirted, and loved, and married a beauty, who 
 had left him a widower with one daughter. 
 All he had to live upon was the well-merited 
 pension which his services had secured him ; 
 nor had he, in more profitable times, done any- 
 thing in the way of what Jacob called " laying 
 by something for a rainy day," so that his 
 beautiful and accomplished child, besides her 
 face, figure, and accomplishments, had nothing 
 in the way of fortune except that which her 
 uncle Jacob at his death might bequeath her. 
 
 Hence the frequent invitations of Jacob to 
 John's house ; hence the passive submission with 
 which John heard the lectures of his wealthy 
 relation, feeling at the same time for all his 
 worldly maxims and prudential recommenda- 
 tions the most sovereign contempt. 
 
 Jacob was perfectly aware of the induce- 
 ments which actuated John in all his proceed- 
 ings towards him, and chuckled at his own 
 
 perception, and perhaps at the anticipation of 
 
 b2
 
 4- BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 the disappointment of his brother's expecta- 
 tions, which, after all, might occur. 
 
 " I tell you, Jack," continued Jacob, " you 
 are wronff : — it is nothing to me; but it's all 
 nonsense fillino; the girl's head with notions of 
 high connexions and titles, and all such trump- 
 ery — your carriages and your horses, and your 
 dinners — psha ! — you can't afford it ; and 
 what 's worse, you sin with your eyes open — 
 you knoto you can't afford it." 
 
 " ]My dear brother," said John, who seldom 
 ventured to call his impracticable relation by 
 his Christian name, " I really do nothing more 
 than is expected of a man holding a certain 
 place in society." 
 
 " Expected by whom ?" said Jacob. 
 
 " The world," replied John. 
 
 " The world !" said Jacob — " uniph ! You 
 mean the two or three hundred families that 
 live up in this part of the town, not one of 
 whom would care if you and your daughter 
 were barred-up in Newgate. The world! — 
 what would the world do for your child if you 
 were to die in debt, as you will ? You are
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 5 
 
 insolvent now, and you know it. All these 
 trumpery things about your rooms that have 
 cost you mints of money, wouldn't fetch five- 
 and-twenty per cent, of their prime cost at 
 auction whenever you break-up or die." 
 
 " Nay, but " 
 
 " ' Nay, but,' " said Jacob—" that 's it : you 
 won't hear reason. Have you insured your life.''" 
 
 " Why, there 's a difficulty," said John 
 
 " To be sure," interrupted Jacob : " you 
 have ruined your constitution by early dissi- 
 pation, and now your life 's not worth a 
 farthing." 
 
 " But, my dear brother," said John, " it 
 would be impossible to bring Helen forward if 
 I did not indulge a little in the gaieties of the 
 world." 
 
 " There goes * the world ' again," said Jacob : 
 " I 'm sick of the word." 
 
 " When my girl is established," said John, 
 " I shall, of course, alter the whole establish- 
 ment, and live quietly." 
 
 "But how is she to be established.'*" said 
 Jacob. " She has no money ; and where are
 
 6 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 you to find the man who will take her as he 
 would buy a doll, without a dump ? She might 
 marry one man I know of, and he right well to 
 do. To be sure, he is rather old, blinking a 
 little as to his eyes, and a bit gone in his mind, 
 — but that's just it. The alderman, I do 
 think" 
 
 " The alderman !" said John, casting a 
 withering look at his brother — " Helen marry 
 an alderman !" 
 
 " Yes, and jump to get him," said Jacob. 
 " What better do you propose ?" 
 
 " Why,"" said John, looking carefully round 
 the room, and finally closing one of the doors 
 which stood half-open, " she has two lovers at 
 this very moment — both capital matches. You 
 see them here constantly, — one, Lord Elles- 
 mere, and the other. Colonel Mortimer. The 
 genuineness of her character, and the openness 
 of her disposition, render the concealment of 
 her feelings a very serious effort ; and, as I 
 leave her free and uncontrolled in the exercise 
 of her judgment in such matters, it is not diffi- 
 cult for me to pronounce that Mortimer is her 
 favourite."
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 7 
 
 " Colonel Mortimer," said Jacob, " is the 
 man, I think, who ran away with somebody's 
 wife — plays a good deal, runs horses, sails 
 yachts, and all that sort of thing, eh ?" 
 
 " It is the same Colonel Mortimer," said 
 John, " who did all these things, but so en- 
 tirely changed, that not a vestige of his former 
 character remains. He married the lady, who, 
 in point of fact, ran away with him : they sub- 
 sequently lived happily together, in the most 
 domestic manner, and he nearly died of an 
 illness brought on by the loss of her." 
 
 " Very fine — very fine indeed !" said Jacob : 
 " that 's j/otir version of the history, is it ? 
 He runs away with his friend's wife ; they live 
 domestically — that is, because * the world' won't 
 visit her ; she dies — perhaps of a broken heart, 
 — and he is near going off the same way from 
 remorse: mayn''t that be true ? It's all nothing 
 to me ; nothing will ever break my heart ; and I 
 never mean to run away with anybody's wife : 
 only, if / had a daughter, I would sooner cut 
 her legs off than let her marry such a man." 
 
 " I assure you," said John, " that I have
 
 8 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 spoken upon this very subject to one or two 
 women of the world "" 
 
 " ' The world !' — there you go again." 
 
 " Well, but what I mean is, women who 
 really understand the ways of society, and they 
 all agree in the eligibility of the match ; and 
 since you doubt the possibility of Helen, with- 
 out a fortune, marrying a rich man, I may as 
 well say at once that Mortimer has at least 
 ten thousand a-year unincumbered." 
 
 " That 's it," said Jacob — " there it is. 
 Now I see ; you sell your daughter for her 
 share of ten thousand a-year." 
 
 " Nay, but," said John, " if Helen is attach- 
 ed to him — if the affection be mutual, surely 
 the ten thousand pounds per annum are not 
 objections to her marrying the man who has 
 them." 
 
 " Not if the man were wliat a girl ought 
 to love," said Jacob. " Now, Alderman Had- 
 dock is a man" 
 
 " My dear brothei'," said John, " if you are 
 not joking, do not talk of such a thing."" 
 
 " A quiet, comfortable establishment, —
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 9 
 
 everything her own way," said Jacob : " a 
 capital house in Bedford Square, with a nice 
 garden behind, and a beautiful villa close by 
 Hornsey Wood." 
 
 " Your picture is tempting, I admit," said 
 John ; " but I fear the pursuits of such a life 
 would not be congenial." 
 
 "Congenial, — pah!" said Jacob: "I've 
 done. / can't marry a rake, and have my 
 heart broken : of course, it ""s nothing to me. 
 I don't care three straws for anybody in the 
 world ; only, if I could have got the girl out 
 of harm's way, and settled her snug and com- 
 fortable, it would have been a good job. How- 
 ever, that 's over ; let her marry the Colonel. 
 I know no ill of him ; he never cheated me 
 out of my money — never shall : not to be had. 
 I have no daughter — that's another good thing : 
 however, I '11 tell Haddock he has no chance.*' 
 
 " What !" said John, " did he ever think he 
 had?" 
 
 " Think !" said Jacob, " what should an 
 alderman who has passed the chair, think ? — 
 why, exactly as I do — that she would not have 
 
 b5
 
 10 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 hesitated a moment. However, it 's nothing 
 to me : / can't marry an alderman, so I don't 
 care ; only" 
 
 Now, the truth is, that the younger of the 
 two middle-aged Messrs. Batley would infinitely 
 rather have seen his daughter starve than marry 
 her to this Alderman Haddock ; and of this the 
 elder of the Messrs. Batley was perfectly aware : 
 and another truth is, that Helen herself parti- 
 cipated most cordially in her father's feelings. 
 Jacob, however, felt it his duty to himself to 
 express his opinion and make his suggestions, 
 inasmuch as the manner in which the one was 
 treated and the others were received would 
 fully justify him in doing as he pleased with 
 the fortune which he had himself acquired by 
 his industry. 
 
 Her uncle Jacob was no great favourite of 
 Helen's. His rough, almost uncouth manners 
 ill-agreed with her notions of society ; and his 
 appearance in the domestic circle, when it liap- 
 pened to be enlivened by any of her more 
 worldly acquaintances, was extremely disagree- 
 able. Nor did the constant efforts of her well-
 
 AND MARRIAGES. H 
 
 bred father entirely succeed in concealing this 
 feeling from Jacob himself: it was therefore 
 doubly important to him, if possible, to secure 
 a parti for the young lady, whose fortune 
 might enable him to remove her from the 
 chance of becoming dependent upon his worthy 
 brother. Every day convinced him more and 
 more of the importance of such an arrange- 
 ment, inasmuch as every day, as it passed, 
 threw some new light upon his daughter's dis- 
 inclination towards her uncle, from whom, it 
 should be observed, not a syllable or mono- 
 syllable in the way of promise, or even hint at 
 the probable disposition of his great wealth, 
 had ever dropped. 
 
 The period then had arrived when the love- 
 ly Miss Batley found at her feet two pretend- 
 ers to her hand — and heart. Lord Ellesmere 
 was dull, heavy, and, if he had not been a 
 lord, would most probably have been reckoned 
 stupid. He had, however, as all dull, heavy 
 lords have, his admirers, his puffers, his toad- 
 ies, and his followers ; but, whatever they 
 might say of his morals and his virtues, it went
 
 12 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 but a very little way to counteract the move- 
 ments of the gay and gallant Colonel Morti- 
 mer. It is true, the title and coronet were in 
 one scale, and nothing but a commoner's for- 
 tune in the other ; still the fortune was consi- 
 derable, and thus it was that Helen lived in 
 a state of perpetual agitation, expecting every 
 day to be called upon to decide between their 
 comparative attractions. 
 
 Batley was a AVhig — Lord Ellesmere a vio- 
 lent Tory. The Colonel sympathized in politics 
 with Batley, and this was an additional claim 
 in his favour ; besides which, his agreeable 
 manners and conversational qualities rendered 
 him particularly acceptable as a son-in-law. In 
 short, Batley had more than implied to Helen 
 which way his prepossession lay ; and even if 
 he had not, the warmth with which he uniform- 
 ly received her untitled suitor must have con- 
 vinced her, as, in fact, it had convinced every- 
 body of their- acquaintance, that he was the 
 husband elect, as far as the future father-in- 
 law was concerned. 
 
 And now for Helen herself: — she was beau-
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 13 
 
 tiful, highly accomplished, and naturally gift- 
 ed. Constantly associated with her father since 
 her mother's death, her mind had naturally 
 received its impressions from him : her views 
 of " the world," as her uncle Jacob would 
 sneeringly have said, were in perfect accordance 
 with his ; and the result of this sympathy and 
 similarity of feeling was, the acquirement of a 
 tone of thought and conversation which, to 
 strangers who did not know the excellence of 
 her heart, gave her an air of what might be 
 colloquially called, " off-handishness." But be- 
 low the surface lay the precious metal of which 
 her character was really formed. She was kind, 
 generous, liberal, and good, in the fullest sense 
 of all these words ; but her playfulness and 
 gaiety of manner, generally delighting and cap- 
 tivating as they were, not unfrequently met with 
 the reproof of some, while they dazzled the 
 eyes of many, even to a blindness to the mild 
 radiance of her innate merits and virtues. 
 
 Helen had, before she was eighteen, been 
 flattered, praised, and almost beatified. Odes 
 had been written on her eyes, and sonnets
 
 14 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 addressed to her eyebrows: ponderous lines 
 " To Helen Dancing," and elaborated extern- 
 pores " On Hearing Helen Sing," had graced 
 the Annuals. Helen had been painted by 
 Lawrence, drawn by Chalon, enamelled after 
 Lawrence by Bone, engraved after Chalon by 
 Finden, mezzotinted by Cousins, and litho- 
 graphed by Lane. Dances had been dedicated 
 to her, and collections of poems inscribed to 
 her : in short, all that could have well been 
 done to turn the head of a young lady of her 
 time of life had been tried, — and yet Helen 
 remained, in fact, unspoiled. 
 
 It was quite clear to " the world," about the 
 period at which Jacob and John maintained the 
 conversation with which this volume begins, 
 that the suspense in which they, as well as the 
 two parties more intimately concerned, were 
 kept with regard to INIiss Helen's selection, 
 must very speedily be terminated. For once 
 " the Avorld" was right : the initiative was taken 
 by the young lady some three nights after- 
 wards at an assembly, where Lord Ellesmere 
 became so " very particular" in his manner and
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 15 
 
 conversation to Helen, that she was compelled 
 to convince him, in the most unequivocal man- 
 ner, of the hopelessness of his case, — a deter- 
 mination on her part which was formally ratified 
 the next morning by her fond parent, who thus 
 saw the last obstacle to the consummation of 
 his wishes with regard to Mortimer removed. 
 It is not often that a father, especially one of 
 such pretensions as Mr. John Batley, rejoices 
 in the rejection of a lord by a " gentle belle" 
 who happens to be his daughter ; personal 
 esteem, however, and the belief that Helen's 
 happiness would be more unequivocally secured 
 by her union with his lordship's rival, were the 
 bases upon which his satisfaction was founded : 
 and when the disconsolate Baron drove from the 
 door for the last time, Mr. John Batley kissed 
 Helen's flushed cheek in a manner perfectly in- 
 dicative of his full sanction of, and entire con- 
 currence in, the line of conduct she had adopted. 
 Strange to say, that on the day in which 
 this eventful rejection took place. Colonel Mor- 
 timer did not call in Grosvenor Street. Helen 
 waited, and lingered. The horses were at the
 
 16 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 door, — her father ready to accompany her : — 
 she declined riding, insinuating something about 
 an apparent indelicacy in showing herself so im- 
 mediately after having broken a heart. Dress- 
 ing-time came : — no INIortimer ! Dinner-time : 
 — no INIortimer ! What could have happened ? 
 Surely she could not have deceived herself into 
 a false belief of his affection for her : surely 
 Papa (a man of the world) could not have so 
 widely miscalculated as not to have assured liim- 
 self of the seriousness of his intentions. Had 
 his absence anything to do with Lord Elles- 
 mere's rejection, or with her conduct the pre- 
 ceding evening? That Lord Ellesmere was 
 rejected, seemed to be the only certainty in the 
 midst of all these speculations — that was, of 
 course, irrevocable — but if INIortimer should 
 really intend nothing ? — what else could it 
 mean.? — Helen began to think that she had 
 been hasty. Lord Ellesmere, to speak consi- 
 derately, was not so very stupid a companion 
 — nor so very violent a politician ; and, at all 
 events, he uas a Peer, and his wife would be 
 a Peeress : — and Helen was out of spirits, and
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 17 
 
 even went the full length of crying for vexation 
 at what had happened. 
 
 Mr. John Batley most assuredly did not cry, 
 — but Mr. Jolin Batley was particularly uneasy: 
 still, Colonel Mortimer never could have gone 
 so far in his attentions, and even professions, as 
 
 he had, unless And yet, — to be sure, there 
 
 might still remain a dash of the rotte in his 
 character. He had the reputation of being a 
 lady-killer, — and it certainly looked odd : — it 
 might have happened that he had heard of 
 what had occurred in the family, and had 
 thought proper to retire as soon as he found 
 the field his own. In short, it was altosether 
 an unaccountable, and by no means an agree- 
 able circumstance. No man alive was more 
 likely to feel deeply the frustration of his de- 
 signs in such a matter than Batley : the mor- 
 tification of being deceived by appearances, 
 would of itself be a deadly pang, — for Batley 
 was, at least in his own opinion, extremely like 
 Ben Johnson's Bias, 
 
 " The very agate 
 Of State and Policy ; cut from the quar' 
 Of Machiavel, a true Cornelian
 
 18 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 As Tacitus himself; and to be made 
 
 The brooch to any true State-cap in Europe. 
 
 He is unvaluable. All tlie Lords 
 
 Have him in that esteem, for his Relations, 
 
 Corrants, Avises, Correspondences 
 
 With this Ambassador, and that Agent. He 
 
 Will screw you a secret from a Statist 
 
 So easie as some Cobbler worms a dog." 
 
 To have been out-manoeuvred by the Colonel 
 would naturally lie heavy on his heart ; and 
 such were the irascible feelings by which he 
 was agitated, that the night closed upon him 
 with a determination on his part to demand an 
 explanation of conduct which seemed so en- 
 tirely irreconcileable with honour and the ways 
 of " the world." 
 
 Poor Helen's thoughts were differently di- 
 rected. Her affection for Mortimer was warm 
 and sincere ; the extraordinary evidence of his 
 neglect, so suddenly inflicted, agitated her 
 dreadfully ; and the womanly mortification, 
 which in the day had been excited by wounded 
 pride, was transformed before the next morn- 
 ing into an agonizing conviction that she had 
 eternally lost the only man she had ever loved.
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 19 
 
 After a restless, wretched night, came on an- 
 other day, — but not Mortimer ; and neither 
 Helen nor her father, (both equally anxious on 
 the subject,) ventured to propose to the other, 
 any measure calculated to relieve their sus- 
 pense : even Batley himself, having slept off 
 his ciiivalrous resolution of the preceding even- 
 ing, began to consider the inexpediency, if not 
 absurdity, of making an appeal to Mortimer 
 on a subject with regard to which he had made 
 no kind of declaration ; and Helen, whose 
 heart beat ra})idly during the ceremonial of 
 breakfast, would have suffered it to break be- 
 fore she would consent to take any step which 
 could, by the remotest possibility, be supposed 
 by " the world" to arise from a wish to recall 
 her truant lover. 
 
 The suspense, however, which was so irk- 
 some, was very speedily converted into a cer- 
 tainty, which was something worse. The ar- 
 rival of that invaluable record of all " worldly" 
 proceedings, " The Morning Post " newspaper, 
 settled the question. In its fashionable co- 
 lumns appeared the following paragraph, the
 
 20 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 perusal of which, in spite of all efforts at 
 repression of feeling, drove INIr. Batley into an 
 agony of rage, and threw Miss Helen into 
 something very like a fit of hysterics. 
 
 " Colonel Mortimer left London yesterday 
 for Brighton, on his way to Dieppe, from 
 which place he proceeds on a lengthened tour 
 through the continent of Europe." 
 
 This of itself would have been (juite suf- 
 ficient to produce even more serious effects, 
 but, as the French say, " Mol/ieur ne vient 
 jamais seul ;'"" and just as Jack had soothed 
 his daughter into a state of consciousness, and 
 resolved to re-read the " extremely disagree- 
 able" announcement previously to discussing 
 it, his eyes, missing their aim at the particular 
 passage, just glanced upon another which was 
 about half a superficial inch lower down in the 
 column, and read — 
 
 " It is confidently reported that Lord Elles- 
 mere is immediately to be created an Earl." 
 
 This was something beyond endurance — 
 beyond belief, indeed ! Tiic first impression 
 upon Batley's mind was, that the circumstance
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 21 
 
 could not be accidental — that some malicious 
 demon had placed the two articles of intelli- 
 gence in juxta-position, and perhaps invented 
 them both. Ay, — if that were true : — the 
 drowning man caught at the straw — but it 
 saved him not ; — both the recorded facts were 
 incontrovertible. 
 
 " Did you see this^ Helen ?" said Batley to 
 his daughter. 
 
 " See it ! — yes," said Helen, believing that 
 her excited parent alluded to the defection of 
 the Colonel. 
 
 " The idea of making him an earl !" said 
 Batley — " what will they do next .f"' 
 
 " What ! — who an earl?" said Helen. 
 
 " Your discarded friend Ellesmere," was the 
 reply, and " The Morning Post " was handed 
 to Helen, in order that she might satisfy her- 
 self upon that point ; her tear-dimmed eyes, 
 however, rested instinctively upon the one 
 loved word : with Isabel she could have said — 
 
 " Walk forth, my loved and gentle Mortimer, 
 And let these longing eyes enjoy their feast." 
 
 But, alas ! /ier " loved and gentle Mortimer"
 
 22 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 was now beyond her reach — beyond recall ; and 
 when she came in time to read the announce- 
 ment of his rival's approaching elevation in 
 the peerage, she felt no pang of regret like that 
 her father had endured, at the loss of rank she 
 had sustained by her rejection of his lordship ; 
 for, had he been a Prince, and the competitor for 
 her heart with Mortimer, Jiis fate and her deci- 
 sion would have been the same as it had been. 
 
 " It seems, Helen, that something strange 
 has happened," said Batley : — " have you and 
 Mortimer quarrelled ?" 
 
 *' On the contrary," said Helen, who talked 
 fluently in his praise as a friend ; " I never 
 saw him in better spirits, or in better temper, 
 than on Wednesday morning when he was 
 here." 
 
 " Did you see him at Lady Saddington's?"" 
 said Batley. 
 
 " No," replied Helen : " he said he should 
 be there, and perhaps was ; but, you know, I 
 came away early, and he is generally very late." 
 
 " Yes," said Batley. " I begin to wish 
 that you had not been quite so decisive : Elles-
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 23 
 
 mere is a man not to be rejected — and 
 
 but, however, we certainly were not aware of 
 this." 
 
 " My dearest father," said Helen, " let what 
 may be the result, I never shall, — never can 
 repent the course I have adopted. You have 
 taught me to speak to you frankly upon all 
 topics affecting my happiness, and I have no 
 disguises from you, I never could have altered 
 the sentiments I at this moment entertain for 
 Lord Ellesmere, and I am sure it would have 
 been unkind, as well as indelicate, to have per- 
 mitted him to continue in doubt upon the sub- 
 ject one moment longer, after what occurred at 
 that party." 
 
 " I find no fault, Helen," said Batley ; " I 
 have always desired you to think for yourself: 
 but still it appears to me, that however sincere 
 you may have been in the expression of your 
 feelings towards the man who is indifferent to 
 you, you have been less candid with regard to 
 him who, if I know anything of " the world " 
 generally, and of you particularly, occupies a 
 very different place in your estimation."
 
 24 BIRTHS^ DEATHS, 
 
 *' Equally sincere, believe rae, my dear 
 father," said Helen. " I never disguised, — in 
 fact, there was no reason why I should disguise 
 the pleasure I derived from the society of Colo- 
 nel Mortimer. From all you had said, I con- 
 cluded that you had no objection to his con- 
 stant visits here, and therefore, so far from 
 affecting an indifference which I did not feel, 
 I have treated him in a manner perfectly con- 
 sistent with the opinion I entertained of him." 
 
 " And now, tell me, Helen," said Batley, — 
 "in the course of your numerous conversations 
 has he ever alluded, — seriously, I mean, — to 
 the probable result of your intimate acquaint- 
 ance.'* — has he, in fact, led you to believe that 
 that result would be a proposal of a similar 
 nature to that of Lord Ellesmere.'' — or" 
 
 " Why, my dear father," said Helen, " Mor- 
 timer's manner, and conversation, and accom- 
 plishments, are all so exceedingly unlike those 
 of Lord Ellesmere, tiiat it is impossible for 
 me to establish a comparison between them in 
 my mind. Mortimer, as far as I am concerned, 
 has never practised what ' the world,' I be-
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 25 
 
 lieve, calls making love. He is extremely 
 agreeable — delightful! — and 1 tell you very 
 honestly, I never saw anybody I liked so much ; 
 
 — and I — am In fact, my dear father, you 
 
 have seen the progress of our intimacy, — and 
 I — admit the—" 
 
 And here Helen, who had endeavoured with 
 all her energy to keep up this description of 
 her feelings with every possible gaiety, and had 
 so far, to a certain extent, succeeded, fell into 
 a second hysteric fit, the aggravated symptoms 
 of which, rendered it necessary to ring for her 
 maid, with whose assistance and that of her 
 father she was removed to her room. 
 
 When Batley had assured himself of his 
 daughter's convalescence, and that rest and 
 quiet only were essential to her restoration, he 
 proceeded to his library, to think over what 
 had happened, and, if possible, decide upon his 
 future course of proceeding. The marriage 
 of his daughter to Mortimer was the great ob- 
 ject of his ambition, and he had now for some 
 time so perfectly satisfied himself that things 
 were en train^ and going on as well as possible, 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 26 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 that the sudden shock occasioned by the depar- 
 ture of the lover, as he had considered him, was 
 not at all alleviated by Helen"'s description of 
 the nature and character of his attentions, and 
 he began to apprehend that the tender feeling 
 in the affair was confined to Helen. That 
 would, and did, naturally account for her de- 
 cided rejection of Lord Ellesmere ; — might it 
 not equally account for the disappearance of 
 Mortimer ? Might he not, seeing the marked 
 attentions which the noble lord was paying to 
 Helen, with an evident, and, in all probability, 
 avowed object in view, consider himself, hav- 
 ing no such intentions, bound in honour to 
 withdraw ? 
 
 Batley began to fear that, for once, his know- 
 ledge of " the world " had failed him, and that 
 he ought himself earlier to have brought Mor- 
 timer to some definite point ; now, it seemed 
 wholly impracticable : he had no ground, no 
 plea for asking him a single question touching 
 the matter, — except, indeed, that the quitting 
 London without either mentioning his intention, 
 or calling to take leave of the family, putting
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 27 
 
 all lover-like considerations out of the question, 
 might justify his writing him a friendly letter 
 of inquiry into the reason of his abruptness, 
 in which Helen should only be mentioned inci- 
 dentally. This seemed a bright thought, and 
 the diplomate resolved to act upon it imme- 
 diately ; and in order to begin his operations 
 scientifically and in good order, he proceeded 
 forthwith, after hearing a favourable account of 
 his daughter's progress towards recovery, to 
 call at the hotel whence Colonel Mortimer had 
 taken his departure the preceding day. 
 
 The reader will please to recollect that he 
 has been introduced to the diplomatic Mr. 
 Batley under very peculiar circumstances ; that 
 he has been domesticated with him in the 
 first instance ; and that, as the proverb says, 
 "No man is a hero to his valet-de-chambre," so 
 no man is, as he is in " the world" while en- 
 gaged in family-affairs with his own connexions 
 and relations. Once out of his own house, — 
 once afloat in the full tide of London-life, 
 Batley was a diflFerent creature altogether ; and 
 those of his acquaintance whom he chanced to 
 
 c2
 
 28 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 meet on his way to Mortimer's hotel, every 
 one of whom would have been too happy to 
 take his arm and enjoy his conversation, could 
 by no possibility form an idea of the real state 
 of his mind, or of what was passing in it, 
 while he, with smiles upon his countenance, and 
 an air of gaiety and playfulness of manner, was 
 positively distracted at the idea of losing such 
 a prize as a husband for his daughter, who, by 
 one of those singular coincidences that rarely 
 occur in " the world," was equally agreeable 
 to father and child. 
 
 Arrived at the hotel. Jack made his inqui- 
 ries after the Colonel, as if he expected to find 
 him at home. 
 
 " The Colonel left town yesterday, sir," was 
 the answer. 
 
 " That 's very odd," said Batley. " What 
 time ?" 
 
 " About half-past one, sir,"" said the waiter. 
 
 " Leave any letters or messages, or " ? 
 
 " None, sir," said the waiter. 
 
 " Gone to Brighton ?" said Jack.
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 29 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied the man — " gone to 
 Brighton first, and then to France." 
 
 " When do you expect him back ?" said 
 Mr. Batley. 
 
 " I don't think, sir, the Colonel will be back 
 for some time," said the waiter. 
 
 " His servants all gone ?" asked Batley. 
 
 " No, sir," said the waiter, " his groom and 
 the boy are not gone yet : they stay with the 
 saddle-horses, 1 believe." 
 
 " Ah !" said Batley — " where are they — 
 here ?" 
 
 " At the stables, I fancy, sir," said the man. 
 
 "Umph!" said Batley, pausing for a moment 
 to consider what advantage was probably de- 
 rivable from any inquiries in that quarter, — 
 for Jack was of that school which has for an 
 axiom, the justification of the means by the 
 attainment of the object — " Ha — well — 
 then I '11 write. — Does not go immediately to 
 France ?" 
 
 " I think not, sir," said the waiter, " for a 
 day or two."
 
 30 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 " Oh !" said Jack — " thank you — thank 
 you !"" — and away he went, leaving the waiter 
 deeply impressed with the urbanity of his man- 
 ners and the extreme politeness of his beha- 
 viour. And whither went he ? — the reader 
 anticipates, I am sure : — to the stables ! — from 
 the inmates of which he felt a hope that he 
 might derive the most authentic information 
 on the subject nearest his heart. 
 
 Thither he repaired, and amidst the washing 
 of carriages, the clatter of pail-handles, and 
 the auxiliary hissings of sundry harness-clean- 
 ers, the anxious parent ascertained that Colo- 
 nel Mortimer had ordered that his horses 
 should be sent down to his country residence, 
 Sadgrove House, in Worcestershire; that the 
 carriage-horses were already gone, and that 
 the saddle-horses were to follow the next day. 
 
 Hence did the diplomatist discover that 
 Mortimer's absence was not likely to be a 
 temporary one, and that, for once, the news- 
 papers were correct in their statement, the 
 reason probably being that the Colonel's own 
 man had furnished it, leaving " the world ""' to
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 31 
 
 wonder what could so suddenly have caused the 
 occultation of so bright a planet in the hemi- 
 sphere of Fashion. The conclusion discover- 
 able from this intelligence was of the most dis- 
 agreeable kind ; but it nevertheless strengthen- 
 ed, and before he reached home confirmed him 
 in his determination of not losing a friend so 
 estimable, and a companion so agreeable, as 
 the Colonel, without one effort either to regain 
 him or ascertain the cause of his defection. 
 Accordingly, the diplomate sat himself down, 
 and wrote him the following letter. 
 
 " My dear Mortimer, Grosvenor Street. 
 
 * I had a dream, which was not all a dream ; 
 The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars 
 Did wander, darkling, in the eternal space, 
 Rayless and pathless.' 
 
 " ' The world ' is in ' amazement lost !"* — 
 all London is wondering whither you are gone, 
 and why. We are, in fact, in a total eclipse : 
 some folks surmise that you have not gone 
 alone: for myself, I cannot comprehend the 
 matter, ' or its suddenness. Surely, if some
 
 32 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 fancy had struck you on the minute, you would 
 not have gone without saying ' farewelF to us. 
 We cannot have offended you, even if any one 
 else has done so; and I cannot suffer you to 
 go farther than you have already gone, without 
 endeavouring to catch some little account of 
 your plans for the future, and of the cause — 
 that is, if you are not resolved to mystify the 
 metropolis altogether — which has produced so 
 surprising an cff'ect. 
 
 " To me the news of your departure seemed 
 incredible. One reason for my incredulity was, 
 the account of its appearing somewhat autJiori- 
 tatively in the newspapers; and the other was, 
 our not having received the least intimation 
 of it from yourself, which, as Helen and I were 
 vain enough to think ourselves somethino; like 
 favourites with you, has given us both a great 
 deal of uneasiness. 
 
 " Pray write, even if it be but five lines, 
 to let us hear what you propose doing, and 
 whilher, in fact, you are going. I admit that 
 I am extremely anxious, because 1 honestly 
 confess that I feel deeply interested in your pro-
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 33 
 
 ceedings ; and trust that your strange depar- 
 ture is not in any way connected with the dis- 
 agreements among the trustees of your Welsh 
 property, about which you were good enough 
 to consult me. In fact, we miss you, and want 
 exceedingly to know why. Even poor little 
 Fan seems to inquire after you as earnestly 
 as Italian greyhound well can ; and Helen 
 declares that something must have affronted 
 you. For our parts, neither I nor Helen, 
 nor even the affectionate Italian, are conscious 
 of having done so, and therefore those of the 
 trio who think and recollect, are most anxious 
 to know the real cause of your disappearance. 
 If there should be anything in which my hum- 
 ble services can be made available, do not hesi- 
 tate to let me know, and I will put myself at 
 your disposal immediately. , 
 
 " Helen desires her best remembrances, and 
 adds her request to mine, that you should 
 write by return of post, to give a true and 
 faithful account of yourself. Pray do, and 
 believe me, dear Mortimer, 
 
 " Yours, faithfully and sincerely, 
 
 " J. Batley." 
 c 5
 
 34 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 " P. S. — I see ministers are going to create 
 Ellesmere an Earl : — what will they do next ? 
 He is no longer a visitor here ; so that not 
 having seen him in the course of the day, I 
 am not certain whether the rumour is correct." 
 
 This letter having been first submitted to 
 Helen, who saw nothing unreasonable, remark- 
 able, or indelicate in its contents, and who 
 especially admired, if she did not actually ori- 
 ginate, the postscript, was despatched in the 
 evening to Brighton, which place in due course 
 it reached the following morning. The effect 
 produced by it upon the gallant Colonel remains 
 to be seen.
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 35 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Helen Batley, whose career is likely to 
 occupy a considerable portion of the reader's 
 attention, was singularly situated in society. 
 From a combination of circumstances, connect- 
 ed in some degree with her father's wifeless 
 condition, she possessed few, if any, female 
 friends of her own age. She had been con- 
 fided to the care of chaperons, who were either 
 unmarried elderlies, or widows without fami- 
 lies ; and her father's house, ungraced and un- 
 cheered by the presence of a mistress, seemed 
 to serve rather as a temporary retreat from the 
 gaieties of " the world," than a home, under the 
 roof of which might be associated companions 
 of her own sex likely to sympathize with her, 
 and become the recipients of the unreserved 
 communication of her thoughts and feelings.
 
 36 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 Neither were those to whom her volatile and 
 restless father entrusted her, exactly the sort of 
 persons to whom such a trust could advan- 
 tageously be delegated ; and certainly, of the 
 whole coterie, the one least likely to do her good 
 was the one whose society she most preferred. 
 This, perhaps, was natural, inasmuch as she 
 was never troubled by her favourite maternal 
 friend with anything in the shape of advice, ex- 
 cept as to the colour of a riband, or the texture 
 of a dress. Lady Bembridge was a woman of 
 " the world," as uncle Jacob would have said, 
 who lived but for such pleasures as it could 
 still afford to a widow of sixty. A good join- 
 ture without children, an excellent house, and 
 a turn for ostentatious hospitality, combined to 
 procure for her a constant round of gaiety and 
 entertainment, in running which, her great ob- 
 ject was to be universally popular. She was 
 always a flatterer, and never, by the remotest 
 accident, dealt in personalities : she always 
 spoke hypothetically, and generally hypocriti- 
 cally. To be everything to everybody was 
 her object, and therefore it is not to be ima-
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 37 
 
 gined that she would even hazard the favour- 
 able opinion of Helen by intruding anything in 
 the shape of corrective observation upon her. 
 Advice, like medicine, is never palatable ; and 
 Lady Bembridge was like the fashionable phy- 
 sician who first ascertains what his patient 
 would like to eat or to drink, or what part of 
 the world he would like to visit, before he 
 prescribes, and then prudently directs the un- 
 conscious sufferer to do the very thing he him- 
 self wishes to do : a course of proceeding ren- 
 dered more beneficial to the invalid by con- 
 vincing him that his own views of his com- 
 plaint, of course always favourable, are in strict 
 accordance with those of Sir Gregory Galen, 
 or Sir Peter Paracelsus, as the case may be. 
 
 On the morning of Bailey's visit to Morti- 
 mer's hotel and stables. Lady Bembridge, 
 much as usual, called on Helen, in order to 
 " make arrangements," as her phrase went, for 
 the day. In a moment she saw that Helen 
 had been crying ; she knew that Mortimer was 
 gone, — therefore did her ladyship affect not 
 to perceive the tear-marks in her eyes, or to
 
 3S BIRTHS^ DEATHS, 
 
 own her knoM'ledge of the Colonel's sudden 
 departure. 
 
 "It seems to me, Helen dear," said her lady- 
 ship, " as if this evening would be a very good 
 opportunity for the play. We have no engage- 
 ment ; we might dine early, and if a comfort- 
 able box were to be let, probably it might 
 be agreeable."" 
 
 " INIy dear Lady Bembridge," said Helen, 
 " I could not go to the play if you were to 
 give me the world !" 
 
 " I am sure," said Lady Bembridge, " I am 
 not going to ask why ; but I did think, that 
 when young ladies avow themselves admirers 
 of certain authors, there could be no great ob- 
 jection to their indulging themselves in seeing 
 their best works well acted." 
 
 " Plays," said Helen, " are all very well ; 
 they interfere, however, with everything else : 
 and — I don't know — tlie men who act Comedy 
 are so vulgar ; and, — as — as for Tragedy, one 
 has enough of that in real life, without going 
 to a theatre for it." 
 
 " I am sure, my dear Helen," said Lady
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 39 
 
 Bembridge, " I am the last person in the 
 world, as you know, to inquire how much of 
 tragedy mingles in the occurrences of your 
 life; but I should really think, dear, if any- 
 thing unpleasant were to occur to any young 
 friend of mine, placed in ' the world ' as you 
 are, it must be — I know, Helen, you will par- 
 don me, love ! — it must be her own fault." 
 
 " Oh ! my dear Lady Bembridge," said 
 Helen, " indeed, indeed it is not so ! No : 
 what has happened is not ray fault. Dear 
 Lady Bembridge, I will tell you all : I am 
 unhappy — and unhappy without having done 
 any one single thing in the world justly to 
 make me so. Mortimer is gone to France — 
 gone on a tour !" 
 
 *' You do not really mean that !" said Lady 
 Bembridge, with an expression of surprise 
 which would have done credit to the talents of 
 a professional actress. 
 
 *' True, — quite true !"" said Helen : " isn't 
 it strange ! — isn't it wonderful !" 
 
 " Why, my love," said Lady Bembridge, 
 " one cannot, you know, form an opinion hast-
 
 40 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 ily upon an individual case: but — now, dear- 
 est, you will see what I mean in a minute — if a 
 very lovely girl, of about your age, — in fact, 
 just such a girl as yourself, — encourages two 
 men, — at least, when I say encourages, I mean, 
 suffers the attentions of two men, — one a noble- 
 man much distinguished in society, and the 
 other a commoner equally celebrated in ' the 
 world,' without coming to a decision, is it not 
 possible that patience may wear out ? and — 
 I don't mean to say"— — 
 
 " No, no, — I know you don't, dear!" said 
 Helen, who, when she became animated or 
 impassioned, so called the dowager ; " but I 
 did no such thing. You know all about it ; 
 you know every turn of my mind ; you know 
 that I did decide about Lord Ellesmere ; else, 
 my dear Lady Bembridge, why did I implore 
 you to come away from Lady Saddington's?"' 
 
 " jNIy dearest !"' said her ladyship, taking 
 Helen's hand between her's, " I didn't know 
 anything about it. Sometimes girls have head- 
 aches, or are tired ; and when I am chaperon^ 
 I never ask why they wish me to stay late or
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 41 
 
 come away early. When one sees an avowed 
 lover, such as Lord Ellesmere has been of 
 yours, making one of the retiring party, it is 
 impossible to know." 
 
 " What could I do ?" said Helen : " he luould 
 offer me one of his arms, and you the other : 
 I could not make a scene in Lady Sadding- 
 ton's ante-room. But I told you, my dear 
 Lady Bembridge," 
 
 " No, Helen dear," said Lady Bembridge, 
 " you told me nothing. A young lady who 
 tells me that she has been very much flurried, 
 and in a state of agitation so peculiar that she 
 wishes to go home, only tells me that something 
 particularly interesting to her, has occurred, and 
 1 am left to conjecture of what particular sen- 
 timent the agitation has been indicative. I never 
 knew, till this moment, the real truth of the 
 story : — so, then, Ellesmere is discarded." 
 
 " Yes," said Helen — " but then Mortimer 
 is gone ! — and oh ! my dear Lady Bembridge, 
 if I have lost him by my own want of decision, 
 — my own missishness rather, in liking to have 
 lovers in order to teaze them and please my-
 
 42 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 self, I never can liave a moments happiness 
 for the rest of my life !" 
 
 " My dear Helen," said the old lady, " you 
 must not talk in this way : I am quite sure 
 you have nothing to reproach yourself with. 
 To be sure, a man like Colonel Mortimer, taken 
 even with all his imperfections on his head, 
 is not to be found every day ; and when a 
 young lady feels conscious that she has secured 
 the heart of such a man, not to speak of his 
 fortune, which, I am sure, is the last thing in 
 the world such a girl as you would think about, 
 she ought not to risk her own happiness and 
 his by apparent indecision : but this does not 
 apply to your case, dear !" 
 
 " I cannot help thinking it does," said Helen, 
 ** nor can I help reproaching myself with a 
 thousand little coquettish tricks of which I 
 ought to have been ashamed. You know, my 
 dear Lady Bembridge, this must have been the 
 case, or how could Lord EUesmere have, to 
 the very last, fancied himself the favourite ?" 
 
 " You must not agitate yourself," said Lady 
 Bembridge. " Rely upon it, if a man like
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 43 
 
 Colonel Mortimer were really attached to such 
 a young lady as Miss Batley, and had with- 
 drawn himself only because he thought a rival 
 preferred, he would, on ascertaining that that 
 rival was dismissed, instantly return, and kneel 
 to receive his fetters again : he couldn't help 
 himself." 
 
 " Not," said Helen, " if he had by any chance 
 discovered that the young lady had been play- 
 ing a double game. — And that / should be that 
 young lady, whose leading faults in ' the world' 
 have hitherto been sincerity and frankness ! I 
 never was reproached with anything very wrong, 
 except speaking my mind too freely ; and yet 
 — yet — here I have not been sincere." 
 
 " You see this matter in a wrong point of 
 view," said Lady Bembridge. " Follow my 
 advice ; come and take a drive. Let us en- 
 gage the box, and let us go to the play. A 
 young lady whose avowed admirer has sud- 
 denly left town on a tour, ought not to permit 
 ' the world' to suppose that she is affected 
 by it." 
 
 " But I am affected by it," said Helen, and
 
 44 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 the tears ran down her cheeks, " and I cannot 
 conceal my sorrow, even if I wished it !" 
 
 Lady Beni bridge looked at her young friend 
 with a half-serious, half-comic worldly look, 
 and pressing her hand, said archly, as dow- 
 agers sometimes will say things — 
 
 " * The boy thus, when his sparrow's flown, 
 The bird in silence eyes ; 
 But soon as out of sight, 'tis gone. 
 Whines, whimpers, sobs, and cries.' '" 
 
 " Lady Bembridge !" said Helen, starting 
 from her chair, " you know I cannot bear to be 
 laughed at !" and in the next instant she was 
 out of the room, leaving the chaperon as much 
 surprised at the rapidity of the young lady's 
 movements, as at the ill-success of her ex- 
 tremely ill-timed attempt at pleasantry. 
 
 Helen, however, was seriously wounded by 
 what had occurred, and upon a mind like hers, 
 the con)bination of feelings, — some perhaps 
 not quite so amiable as others which the cir- 
 cumstance had excited, — operated violently. 
 She had lost the lover of her choice, and she 
 had discarded his rival whose peerage was at
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 45 
 
 her feet ; and, as has been already observed, 
 beyond and over-and-above the one deep grief 
 which the former of these circumstances cre- 
 ated, Avas the worldly regret that she should 
 have thrown away the advantages of the match 
 with Lord Ellesmere for the sake of the man who 
 had evidently abandoned her. All this worry 
 and excitement produced an accession of fever ; 
 and after Lady Bembridge, who followed her to 
 her room, had obtained pardon for her endea- 
 vour to laugh off her sorrows and remorse, she 
 took her leave, promising to send her own 
 favourite physician to visit her, observing as 
 she went, " that however incompetent the 
 doctors might be to ' minister to a mind dis- 
 eased,'' still they were of great service in 
 checking bodily illness caused by mental ex- 
 citement." 
 
 Helen, for the first time in the course of 
 their acquaintance, rejoiced at her ladyship's 
 departure. The silence of her room which 
 succeeded to the voluble hypotheses of her 
 " worldly"" companion was of itself soothing and 
 calming, and the poor victim to her own inde-
 
 46 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 cision uninterruptedly indulged in an ecstasy 
 of tears. 
 
 It was during this time that another scene 
 in tlie domestic drama was being enacted in 
 Mr. John Batley''s library, where brother Jacob, 
 havingheard the history of Mortimer's flight 
 and Lord Ellesmere's rejection, made not a 
 second, nor a third, but at least a twentieth 
 effort to induce Jack to listen to Alderman Had- 
 dock's proposals for the dear deserted Dido. 
 
 " Psha, Jack !" said Jacob, " 1 told you so : — 
 cat in a tripe-shop ; — Jack-ass between two 
 bundles of hay: — didn""! know where to choose. 
 No difference to me ; thank God ! I have no 
 daughter : I care for nobody : but you '11 see 
 the end on't, that's all I say, — and a pretty 
 kettle of fish you '11 make of it !" 
 
 It was during such discussions as these, that 
 Jack, the brilliant and polished, had to exer- 
 cise the most rigid control over his temper, 
 and submit with apparent patience to the dicta 
 of the uneducated Croesus from whom he hoped 
 to derive eventual independence. 
 
 " My dear brother,"" said Batley junior.
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 4*/ 
 
 " you are altogether misinformed. Colonel 
 Magnus, Mortimer''s particular friend and in- 
 timate acquaintance, told me this very morn- 
 ing that he doubted the fact of Mortimer's 
 intended absence, and hinted to me — this, of 
 
 course, is entre nous "" 
 
 " Of course," said Jacob, '* whatever that 
 
 means." 
 
 " Means, Jacob," said John, " why, that it 
 goes no farther. He hinted to me that he 
 rather thought Mortimer had an affair upon 
 his hands, and had given out the history of his 
 tour to mystify inquirers." 
 
 " An affair !'' said Jacob — " Oh ! that means, 
 I suppose, another duel — not that it necessa- 
 rily follows. An affair of honour ! — an affair 
 of gallantry. Ah ! — well, you are safe with 
 me ; I sha'n't say a syllable about it. I don't 
 care a fig if Colonel Mortimer is killed half a 
 dozen times over; — wh}'^ should I? Pm not 
 going to fight, and haven't insured his life ; it 
 cannot make any difference, you know, to me."" 
 
 " No," said Jack, " but it would make a 
 very serious difference to Helen."
 
 48 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 " Why," said Jacob, " I don't see that. 
 She has contrived to catch two fools already, — 
 why shouldn't she do the same thing again ?" 
 
 " My dear brother," said Jack, " you speak 
 of female affections as if they were as easily 
 transferred as so much stock." 
 
 " Stock, John !" said Jacob — " no, no : you 
 don't catch me comparing the fly-away fancies 
 of a giddy girl with the four per cents, or the 
 three and a-half reduced." 
 
 "But the sentiment, — the feeling!" said 
 John. 
 
 " Sentiment, my eye !" said Jacob ; " I 
 don't understand what it means : I never knew 
 what it was to be in love — never shall, now. 
 I admit that I once took a fancy to a widow at 
 Wapping, in regard of sundry ships. Class A, 
 lying in the London Docks, of which she was 
 mistress ; but I found it wasn't all clear and 
 above-board, — and tliat she had a nephew, 
 and there was a will to be disputed ; so I left 
 the widow and the craft : — but as for senti- 
 ment, — Lord bless vour heart ! she was old 
 enough to be my grandmother, and so big that
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 49 
 
 one of her own puncheons would have made 
 her a tight pair of stays." 
 
 " That's it,"" said Jack; " you have never 
 felt the sort of passion to which I refer, and 
 therefore cannot appreciate its power." 
 
 " I suppose I haven't !" said Jacob : " no 
 matter ; I shall never want for anybody to 
 love as long as I live — always sure, too, of 
 what you call a return — I love myself. As I 
 say, of all the houses in the street give me 
 Number One — eh ? — that 's my maxim." 
 " You say so," said John. 
 " Never say what I don't mean," replied 
 Jacob ; — " and another thing I never do : — 
 never try to jump higher than my legs will 
 carry me — d'ye mark me, Jack ? There isn't 
 a man, woman, or child to whom I owe ten- 
 pence on my private account : I never drink 
 my port till it 's paid for : — no running over 
 head and ears in debt, — as you do. Jack : — 
 however, as I 've said a hundred times before, 
 it 's nothing to me." 
 
 " Only, as a brother,'' said Jack, " you 
 might perhaps take some interest." 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 " Not I,"" said Jacob, "■' I never take any in- 
 terest — except for my money : — and as for a 
 brother, — why, we are all brothers, if you 
 come to that : — and hang me if I know one 
 of the family, large as the world is, who would 
 stoop to pick up a pin to save my life; — I 'm 
 sure I wouldn't, to save any one of theirs." 
 
 " But, surely," said Jack, " Helen deserves 
 some of your affection : she is truly attached 
 to ?/ou, and " 
 
 " Fudge, Jack !" said Jacob, rattling all the 
 shillings in his breeches-pocket — " attached to 
 me I — no, I'm not after her fashion — I don't 
 live in ' the world ' — hey ? She may be at- 
 tached to me as Peter Post-Obi t in the play 
 is attached to his friends, in the hopes of what 
 she may catch at my death : — but it won't do; 
 I 'm not to be had ! No, — if she were a staid, 
 sensible sort of body, and would marry Had- 
 dock, I should say something to her : — but, 
 no — the alderman, like myself, is not a man of 
 ' the world ' — not that I care three dumps for 
 him, if you come to that." 
 
 « Why," said Jack, " Helen's habits and
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 51 
 
 manners are different from those of the alder- 
 man ; and an accomplished girl " 
 
 " Accomplished fiddle-stick !" said the mer- 
 chant. " What are accomplishments ? You 
 over-educate your girls — teach them the learn- 
 ed languages — make them dance like figure- 
 girls, — what d'ye call 'em there, — all up and 
 down the sides of the stage at the playhouse, 
 with a fringe to their stays which they call pet- 
 ticoats ? — make them play and sing till their 
 hearts ache : — and what for ? — to catch hus- 
 bands : that 's it, — isn't it ? — And more fools 
 they who are to be so trapped." 
 
 " I don't see that," said Jack. " Accom- 
 plishments in which amateurs now excel the 
 professors of twenty years since, are" 
 
 " Accomphshments," said the merchant, 
 " stufP ! What are the accompHshments ? — 
 all very fine as baits — lures — temptations : 
 but once let the accomplished girl be married 
 — see, then, what happens. The husband is 
 gained ; a family is coming ; and she thinks 
 just as much of twanging her harp, tinkhng 
 her guitar, rattling her piano-forte, or colly- 
 
 1)2
 
 52 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 wobbling with her voice, as she docs of flying : 
 it 's all pretence — fighting under false colours. 
 If Helen married Haddock "" 
 
 " My dear Jacob," again interrupted Batiey 
 junior 
 
 " And, my dear Jack," said Jacob, " if you 
 come to that. — I say, even if she married 
 this Mortimer — which, in course, she won't 
 now, — she would never sing or play after- 
 wards ; nor would he ask her. Everything is 
 very fine till you have got it. A singing wife 
 is like a piping bullfinch ; great fun for your 
 friends, — deuced tiresome to yourself. Now, 
 as I am all for myself, and nothing for my 
 friends, I only speak as I think." 
 
 " My dear brother," said Jack, " upon one 
 point I really wish to undeceive you, because, 
 in your blunt, off-hand way of speaking, you 
 may unintentionally do Helen and me a very 
 serious piece of mischief, by representing the 
 marriage between her and Mortimer as off. 
 Colonel Magnus, his particular friend, as I 
 have already told you " 
 
 " Psha !" said Jacob, " Colonel Magnus !—
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 53 
 
 that ""s another man of ' the world ;' a Brag in 
 good society ; a fellow I saw through the first 
 day I met him here: — not but he is clever in 
 his way, for he never brags straightforward, 
 — all his infernal conceit comes out as if by 
 chance, and he leaves you to draw your own 
 conclusions ; all his boasting is by implication : 
 but he ""s an empty-pated fellow, and as con- 
 ceited as a man-milliner, and not very unlike 
 one." 
 
 " Magnus like a man-milliner !"" exclaimed 
 Jack, " why, my dear brother, he is absolutely 
 the pattern-man of the day." 
 
 " Yes," said Jacob, " that will do ; a ' pat- 
 tern-man !' — just so — so is a man-milliner ; — 
 and the bosom friend of Mr. Mortimer ! — I 
 know — I understand. I feel what comes of 
 friendships ; I never had a friend in my life, 
 thank God ! I don't care a farthing about it ; 
 but, mark me, that Colonel Magnus is most 
 likely to be the man to persuade Mortimer to 
 have nothing to do with Helen," 
 
 " On the contrary," said Jack, " he is loud 
 in her praise."
 
 54 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 " Loud in her praise !" repeated the brother ; 
 " and do you give any man in this world cre- 
 dit for what he says ? — psha ! The world is 
 full of cheats ; — it's a cheat, — a great huge big 
 cheat, itself; — it is that makes me stand aloof 
 from everybody : everybody who makes pro- 
 fessions — lies; no man, let him talk as he may, 
 cares one straw for anything but self, — that I 
 know. But I 'm even with them : I 'm like 
 the dusty chap that lived on the river Dee ; " I 
 care for nobody,'" — not " if nobody cares for 
 me," as the miller says it, but because I know 
 nobody does care for me : — so much the better 
 — ^who wants them ?" 
 
 It is true that Mr. Jacob Batley had a some- 
 what forcible manner of expressing his ex- 
 tremely unamiable feelings and principles, but 
 he was a shrewd observer of " things in gene- 
 ral," and the estimate he had formed of the 
 merits and virtues of Colonel Magnus was not 
 very far from being a correct one. The Colo- 
 nel had been long the intimate friend of Mor- 
 timer : they had been in the same battalion of 
 Guards, — had lived very constantly together.
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 55 
 
 Magnus was the coiifidant of Mortimer in 
 that affair to which reference has already been 
 made ; he was his adviser in council, and had 
 been his friend in the field : to Magnus, there- 
 fore, every incident connected with Mortimer's 
 past life was familiar, and Mortimer would in 
 vain have attempted concealment with him : — 
 moreover, he certainly did think that JNIortimer 
 might do better than marry the beautiful yet 
 flighty Helen ; and perhaps fancied that the 
 blissful retirement to his place in Worcester- 
 shire, of which he spoke in raptures as a bower 
 of connubial happiness, might, more than was 
 either agreeable or convenient, separate him 
 from a companion in whose society he very 
 much delighted, and whose London hospitality 
 was particularly agreeable to him. 
 
 As to the particular feeling to which Jacob 
 alluded, Jacob was perfectly right. Magnus 
 had but a small fortune, but he had a fine 
 place in the country, in which he could not 
 afford to live ; still, he was a man of station, 
 and, (to a certain degree,) of property, however 
 much it might be encumbered. The general 
 
 VOL. I. D 4
 
 56 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 tone of his conversation was such as never 
 to betray him into anything verging upon a 
 falsehood, but to leave his hearers, as Jacob 
 said, to imply and infer that he was really 
 something to be looked-up to. This style 
 of language, combined with a fine person, 
 Antinous-like features, pallid cheeks, an im- 
 moveable steadiness and almost scornfulness 
 of countenance, gave him a kind of swagger- 
 ing importance in general society, in which, 
 it must be owned, he mightily rejoiced. How 
 far his influence over Mortimer, superadded 
 to his knowledge of his foregone indiscre- 
 tions, contributed to the events hereafter to be 
 detailed, is not at present to be ascertained; 
 suffice it to say, that Colonel Mortimer seldom 
 acted in any important case, without having 
 first asked and received the advice of Colonel 
 Magnus. 
 
 It was quite in the natural order of things 
 that nothing like congeniality should exist be- 
 tween the two colonels and such a person as Mr. 
 Jacob Batley. The old citizen, always on the 
 alert, was by far too quick and discerning not
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 57 
 
 to discover the precise place which he held in 
 their estimation, and this knowledge gave in- 
 creased force to his natural feelings of misan- 
 thropy, or rather self-love, — for the fact is, 
 he did not so much hate other people as love 
 himself. 
 
 "Well," said the worthy citizen, " I wish 
 you well out of it. You are in what I call a 
 mess — but you won't take advice, and I can't 
 afford time to waste it upon you if you would : 
 — no, — go your own way, it's nothing to me : 
 I don't care whether she marries either, both, 
 or neither. I know I have got a deuced good 
 dinner to eat at Haddock's at six, and a capi- 
 tal bottle of Port to drink after it, and a snatch 
 of supper if I want it, and a glass of punch, 
 beyond that ; and a comfortable bed to go to 
 afterwards, in as snug a house as ever was 
 built — that 's enough for me. I have put 
 myself out of harm 's way — sunk enough in 
 Annuities to keep me safe for the rest of my 
 life ; and as that 's the case. Jack, blow high, 
 blow low, all 's one to Jacob : — wherefore, good 
 morning ! I shall look in to-morrow or next 
 
 D 5
 
 5S BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 day. I suppose I shall hear how you get on 
 — not that that's what I come for, only, I like 
 an object when I want a walk, and so I come 
 to inquire — ha, ha ! Good b'ye t'ye, Jack — 
 good b'ye !" 
 
 "Strange, unaccountable creature!" mutter- 
 ed Jack, as he rang the bell for the servant to 
 let his brother out. "Is it the possession of 
 wealth that steels the heart against mankind, 
 or is it the knowledge, gained by that posses- 
 sion, of the greedy rapacity of the world, which 
 puts the rich man on his guard against its im- 
 positions? I, if I ever had a guinea in the world 
 that I could call my own, was never easy till it 
 was gone; and often have I shared it with a 
 poorer friend, or even given it all away to some 
 deserving object, — at least, as I fancied; — and 
 here is this brother of mine, rolling in riches, 
 a perfect callosity as far as sympathy, compas- 
 sion, or feeling go. Well, I would not change 
 with him even now." 
 
 This being spoken in a soliloquy, Jack's effu- 
 sion, so favourable to himself, will pass uncen- 
 sured on the score of vanity or vain-boasting :
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 59 
 
 he said little more than the truth, although the 
 pecuhar callosity, as he called it, of Jacob, as 
 far as he himself was concerned, was in some 
 degree attributable to frequent applications for 
 assistance, which Jacob sometimes responded 
 to favourably, because he was afraid his own 
 name might be implicated or disgraced in any 
 exposure of Jack's embarrassments : so, even 
 in any particular exception to his general rule 
 of action, it will be always found that self 
 was still the ruling principle. 
 
 In the state of mind into which Mr. John 
 Batley had worked himself during the last six 
 and thirty hours, the sound of an approaching 
 visitor was dreadfully exciting ; and just as 
 Jacob had quitted him, his nervous system was 
 violently acted upon by the arrival and an- 
 nouncement of no less a personage than the 
 subject of the recent conversation, Colonel 
 Magnus himself. 
 
 " My dear Colonel," said Jack, " I am too 
 glad to see you." 
 
 " Why,'' said the Colonel, " I have called 
 rather to ask your advice, than to bring any
 
 60 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 intelligence of our friend, from whom, how- 
 ever, I expect to hear every hour. The fact 
 is, that I have heard you express a wish to be 
 again in Parliament : — now I think I have an 
 opportunity of, — I won't say, returning you, 
 — not actually that, — but of putting things 
 so favourably en train^ that little doubt can 
 be entertained of success." 
 
 " Why,""' said Jack, his eyes brightening at 
 the prospect of again sitting in the Wittenage- 
 raote of the empire, " I admit that I should be 
 disposed to enter into any negociation that way 
 tending, not from any personal vanity, but be- 
 cause I think, — of course what I say is entirely 
 private and confidential, — that I miglit be of 
 use: — I have been behind the curtain, and 
 might perhaps turn the experience I have gain- 
 ed to some account in just picking holes in the 
 coats of the — eh ! — you understand." 
 
 " Perfectly," said the Colonel : " I will state 
 the fact. A large proportion of the electors of 
 Mudbury, the town in the neighbourhood of 
 which a good deal of my Wiltshire property 
 lies, have been long anxious to show any little
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 61 
 
 attention to me in their power. About a week 
 or ten days ago, some sixty or seventy of them 
 came over to my place, — a thing quite unex- 
 pected on my part, — in twenty or thirty car- 
 riages; and my man, who announced that they 
 were actually arrived, was the very first person 
 who told me anything at all about it. I im- 
 mediately said, ' Hawkins,' — my man's name is 
 Hawkins, — I said, ' sixty or seventy of them, — • 
 oh! — show them into one of the small draw- 
 ing-rooms, and immediately have luncheon, or 
 something of the kind, put down in the large 
 dininff-room."' I thought that was not a bad 
 precaution : that class of people have a high 
 regard for their personal comforts, and as it is 
 said, by way of national reflection, that English- 
 men can finish nothing satisfactorily without a 
 dinner, so I have observed, that they can begin 
 nothing at all comfortably without a luncheon." 
 
 " I see," said Jack, " you are quite ahve to 
 the little imperfections of our noble country- 
 men." 
 
 " Aufait,'" said Magnus; " else why have I 
 lived so long amongst them, contrary to my
 
 62 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 taste and inclination? N''impoite, these fel- 
 lows came, and I found that they were merely 
 a deputation from a vast proportion of the 
 electors of Mudbury, pressing rae to come for- 
 ward. Now, the fact is, my dear Batley, you 
 know I have a certain position to maintain, 
 and as far as any of the necessary labours, as I 
 call them, of one's station are concerned, I am 
 quite ready. As high sheriff, why, of course, 
 with a certain degree of influence and pro- 
 perty, and all that, in a county — it's a duty 
 to — to — uphold the office properly, which is, 
 in fact, unavoidable : but the House of Com- 
 mons, the heat, and the smell, and the late 
 hours which one must keep to be really useful, 
 and the odd sort of hats the people wear — in 
 fact, to me — I declare I could not, in justice, 
 undertake the thing ; — I love my ease too 
 much." 
 
 *' Ah !" said Jack smilingly and bowingly, 
 " there it is : that is precisely the reason why 
 things are going to ruin." 
 
 " No, Jack," said Magnus, "a vote's a vote, 
 and I could give no more ; — so, feeling that I
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 63 
 
 was very much obliged to my dirty-faced friends, 
 I gave them a sort of impromptu dejeunei', and 
 made them a speech. They begged me to ex- 
 press myself before the main body of their party 
 at the Town Hall. 1 immediately ordered my 
 carriage — I happened luckily to have some of 
 my own horses down at the time — put four to, 
 
 — outriders and that sort of thing, — and went 
 over to Mudbury. Of course, my coming wa§ 
 a thing looked at, and to be talked of; and I 
 think the affair went off remarkably well. I 
 repeated my declaration of ill-health, and all 
 that ; and then I was solicited to name a friend : 
 
 — there is the fact. The thing struck me as 
 likely to be agreeable to you, and — so" 
 
 " 'Gad," said Batley, " you are extremely 
 kind. I really am infinitely obliged."" 
 
 " I thought, perhaps, it might be agree- 
 able," said the Colonel ; " I, therefore, told 
 several of my Wiltshire tenants — for, in other 
 counties where I have property, my influence 
 is more decided — that, of course, moving in 
 society as I did, I must know a considerable 
 number of eligible persons to bring forv/ard.
 
 64 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 and that I would consult some of those people 
 best qualified to judge with regard to my 
 choice ; but, just as I was stepping into my 
 travelling carriage, it struck me that you, per- 
 haps, were the best person in the world for 
 the purpose ; I desired Mr. Wilkinson, my 
 honime d'affaires, who is quite in my confi- 
 dence, and who gets through a world of busi- 
 ness in the shortest possible time, not to write 
 to the Marquess of Pimlico till I had seen vou 
 upon tlie subject. In fact, I thought it would 
 please you, and I knew it would please Mor- 
 timer."" 
 
 The last observation puzzled Batley a good 
 deal. It seemed quite clear, that if Mortimer 
 had decidedly broken off all connexion with 
 his family, his being either in or out of the 
 House of Commons must be a matter of perfect 
 indifference to him ; still, he liked the notion, 
 and looked upon Magnus as a man very little 
 inferior, in fact, to what he was in his own 
 opinion. There was still a point to be touched 
 upon and discussed, the settlement of which 
 was yet wanting to confirm the exalted opinion
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 65 
 
 which Jack had so suddenly formed of his 
 friend. What that was, may be easily guessed : 
 Was the return to be made free of expense ? 
 — or was it expected by the magnificent Colo- 
 nel that Jack was to secure the favourable 
 opinions of the free and independent electors 
 of Mudbury by any outlay of his own ? 
 
 Little did Jack, with all his penetration and 
 knowledge of the world, think that the magni- 
 ficent Colonel's only reason for not sitting him- 
 self for that ancient and highly respectable 
 town was, the impossibility of getting elected 
 upon his personal influence alone, and the equal- 
 ly disagreeable impossibility of raising, on his 
 part, a sufficient sum of ready money for the pur- 
 pose, without making some dreadful sacrifices. 
 
 " With regard to the expense," said the 
 Colonel, " it will be a mere flea-bite — three thou- 
 sand pounds will be the outside — so you must 
 be quite sure that my disinclination does not 
 arise from that cause; and, in fact, having a 
 good deal of East-India Stock, and West- 
 Indian property, — all that sort of thing, — I 
 ought to be in the House to look after my
 
 66 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 varied interests, independently of the stake I 
 have in the country itself, — but — I cannot 
 endure it : so, you see, my dear Batley, the 
 offer of secession in your favour is, in point 
 of fact, no compliment.'" 
 
 " Why,"" said Jack, his face considerably elon- 
 gated, and his countenance expressing a mix- 
 ture of surprise and disappointment — " I — 
 I — that is — I — think — that no difficulty can 
 arise upon that point." (Hereupon his san- 
 guine imagination darted rapidly towards his 
 brother's teeming coffers.) " I think that I 
 can manage that" 
 
 " Manage !"" said Magnus interrupting him, 
 — " of course. 'Gad, the idea of not managing 
 three thousand pounds, I suppose, never entered 
 the head of mortal man. I merely mentioned 
 the sum, because, upon my life ! the thing 's 
 dog-cheap. In fact, these matters have be- 
 come much more reasonable and more certain 
 since we carried the Reform Bill." 
 
 " True," said Jack, — " anything better cal- 
 culated for the advancement of bribery I never 
 recollect, although I did vote for it."
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 67 
 
 " Excepting always the ballot,"" said Mag- 
 nus. " Now, of course, with the number of 
 tenants I have in different parts of the king- 
 dom, it would be difficult and dangerous open- 
 ly to tamper with them ; but if the ballot 
 could be really established, and for which, if 
 you accept my offer, of course, you will do 
 me the kindness to vote, the system is infi- 
 nitely easier, — clearer, — plainer, and utterly 
 beyond the reach of detection. Par exem- 
 pie, if I say to any one of the three or four 
 hundred of the people I have in Wiltshire, 
 for instance, ' I will give you ten pounds for 
 your vote, or I will abate ten pounds of your 
 rent ' — the case is flagrant ; Thessiger, or 
 Wrangham, or any of the leading Conserva- 
 tive parliamentary lawyers, (and, entre nous. 
 Jack, the legal talent is all Tory,) — these fel- 
 lows would knock us over ; but with the ballot, 
 where nobody knows anybody, and a bet does 
 not consequently invalidate a vote, I say to 
 Hawkins, or Jenkins, or Watson, or Jackson, 
 or Taylor, or Tomkins, as the case may be, 
 ' Are you going to ballot ^'' — ' Yes,' says Tay-
 
 G8 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 lor, or Jenkins, or Watson, or Tomkins, ' I 
 am.' — ' Well,' don't you see? — with the vast 
 spread of influence I have, I say — ' I tell you 
 what, Watson,' or Tomkins, or as the case 
 may be, ' I '11 bet you ten pounds the Tory 
 candidate comes in.' — ' Done !' says Watson, 
 or Taylor, or Tomkins — and away he goes, 
 and does his possible to keep the Tory out." 
 
 " A good notion," said Jack, " and I believe 
 generally understood by our party ; however, 
 with respect to our immediate negociation, will 
 you give me till to-morrow to think it over ?" 
 
 " To be sure," interrupted Magnus, " the 
 thing is an affair of not the slightest impor- 
 tance to me. I make you the offer, because, 
 knowing your principles, I do not in the 
 slightest degree compromise ray own, and the 
 fact is, that having a good deal of interest in 
 other places, our dear friend Spoony — you 
 know whom I mean — has been good enough to 
 offer me a baronetcy, if, — don't you see ? — not 
 that I wish for it, or indeed would accept it, — 
 it is now too common a reward, — so, entre nous, 
 take your time and let me know at your leisure.
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 60 
 
 whether my proposition is agreeable and likely 
 to suit your purpose." 
 
 Batley bowed an acquiescence, and cast " a 
 longing lingering look behind," " with his 
 mind's-eye," on his brother and his fortune, but 
 knowing how very thick the coat of that excel- 
 lent pine-apple-like relation was, he almost des- 
 paired of being able to avail himself of the not 
 too liberal offer of his friend the Colonel. 
 
 " Well, my dear Batley," said Magnus, " I 
 have now opened my budget, — I think you 
 ought to be in Parliament, — as I say, you 
 don't care for the smell and the heat and all 
 that: — to a man accustomed to perfect ease 
 and well ventilated rooms, it is quite another 
 thing, — my greatest care, by Jove ! in all my 
 houses, is about the ventilation ; and, I de- 
 clare to you, I find a vast difficulty, — my rooms 
 are so large — small rooms, by the way, are 
 worse, — so hot in summer, and so cold in win- 
 ter, — that, upon my life, half my time is passed 
 with those architect people and builders, who, 
 in point of fact, know nothing about the mat- 
 ter, in trying to keep myself at a proper tem-
 
 70 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 perature. Don't put yourself out of the way 
 about the offer ; I dare say we shall either see 
 or hear from Mortimer to-morrow, and then we 
 can talk it over."" 
 
 And so ended this dialofrue, which, as I have 
 already observed, completely mystified Jack 
 Batley, who, although prepared for the mortifi- 
 cation of being obliged to decline the seat, in- 
 asmuch as he shrewdly suspected that Jacob 
 would have seen him safely lodged in one of 
 the new-fangled parish Bastiles before he would 
 either give or lend him the quantum sufficit 
 for the seat, was, nevertheless, elevated to a 
 great extent by the continued attentions and 
 affections of such a man as Colonel Magnus, 
 considering above all that he was the intimate 
 personal friend of the much-desired Colonel 
 Mortimer.
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 71 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The ambition of Mr. John Batley having 
 been fired by the offer of his friend the Colonel, 
 he began to consider the more probable means 
 of raising the sum required to conciliate the 
 affections of his future free and independent 
 constituents; and having revolved the matter in 
 his mind in every shape and way, he at last 
 came to the resolution of applying to Jacob, 
 having worked himself into the hope, and even 
 belief, that upon such an occasion his heart 
 might be moved and his purse-strings opened. 
 An invitation to dinner was the preliminary 
 step, John having invariably found that his 
 amiable relation was much more accessible after 
 having made a hearty meal well washed down 
 with generous wine, than at any other period 
 of his existence.
 
 72 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 These periodical fits of amiability were not 
 peculiar to Jacob Batley ; it is upon record that 
 a certain curmudgeonly money-lender would 
 never turn a favourable ear to the applications 
 of his thoughtless customers, until he was con- 
 siderably more than half-tipsy. One of his 
 most constant clients used to declare, that, 
 when he first knew him, two glasses of port- 
 wine produced the desired effect ; but that 
 from the long habit of borrowing by the one, 
 and of drinking by the other, before the witty 
 spendthrift had concluded his connexion with 
 him, two bottles at least were necessary to bring 
 him to the lending state. 
 
 Jacob, who was a cunning trader, was per- 
 fectly conscious of the character of Jack's invi- 
 tations, and looked for a financial application 
 of some sort, as a sequel to the bidding, as 
 naturally as he expected to hear thunder after 
 seeing a flash of lightning ; nevertheless, he 
 uniformly went, and, kind as he might appear, 
 comparatively, towards the close of the even- 
 ing, it was not once in twenty times the object 
 of his solicitous host and brother was realized ;
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 73 
 
 and when it was, as has been already hinted, 
 it was because the refusal would have brought 
 discredit upon his own name. 
 
 Other matters, however, arose in the course 
 of the day, which were of deep interest to Jack. 
 More important was the return of Colonel Mor- 
 timer to London, than his own return for Mud- 
 bury. Return, however, he did ; and the first 
 house he went to after his arrival in town, was 
 that of Mr. John Batley. 
 
 There is no doubt but that this event was 
 considered by Jack, as indeed it proved even- 
 tually to be, the deciding move of Helen's life ; 
 and it was with unaffected warmth and plea- 
 sure he welcomed the accomplished gentleman 
 to his house. 
 
 " What did you think had become of me ?'"* 
 said Mortimer with an archness of expression 
 which implied that he perfectly well knew, from 
 the cautious style of the letter he had received 
 from him, his real opinion of his abrupt depar- 
 ture. 
 
 " Why," said Batley, " to tell you the truth, 
 I was apprehensive that some fighting business 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 had called you so suddenly away, and I began 
 to get nervous and fidgety." 
 
 " No," said Mortimer, " my fighting days 
 are over ; all I now look forward to is quiet, 
 peace, and retirement. I am sick, dead sick of 
 the vanities of the world, of its heartlessness, of 
 its unprofitableness; and if I can find a really 
 true, sincere, ingenuous creature, who will con- 
 fide her destinies to me, and second my resolu- 
 tions to become a good man, I am prepared to 
 surrender my freedom into her hands." 
 
 The lyre of Calliope's son never sounded 
 more melodiously in Pluto's ear than did these 
 words on that of John Batley, Esq. Here was 
 no equivocation as to the actual intentions and 
 disposition of the gallant gay Lothario ; and, 
 although he affected still to be searching for 
 such a partner in life as he depicted, still he 
 would not have continued " harping upon my 
 daughter," as Jack thought, unless she was 
 in fact the object of his ambition and affec- 
 tion. 
 
 " I should think," said Mr. Batley, " that 
 there is no young lady of common intelligence
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 75 
 
 who would not be too happy to strengthen you 
 in such admirable resolutions." 
 
 " Faith ! I don't know," said the Colonel. 
 *' If I were poor and needy and found favour 
 in the eyes of a woman who would make sacri- 
 fices for me and share my pittance whatever 
 it might be, I should feel a confidence in her 
 afiection ; but the worst of it is, I have been 
 so perfectly a man of ' the world,' have seen 
 so much evil, have done so much wrong my- 
 self, that I cannot conquer my doubts, sus- 
 picions, and apprehensions, nor make my- 
 self believe that I can be loved for myself 
 alone." 
 
 " This is a diffidence," said Batley, 
 " which" 
 
 " No, no," interrupted Mortimer, " it has 
 nothing to do with diffidence ; it is mistrust. 
 And since we are upon the subject, let me be 
 candid at once — is Helen at home ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Batley. 
 
 " Now, Batley," said the Colonel, " we are 
 both men of the world, — we understand each 
 other ; — you are no more blind than I am,^ 
 
 c 2
 
 76 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 you know what I feel towards your daughter, 
 — yes, you do." 
 
 " I admit," said Batley, " that I think she 
 is honoured by your favourable opinion." 
 
 " I have watched her," said Mortimer, " care- 
 fully and attentively. Her mind is pure and 
 ingenuous — her manners frank and attractive ; 
 but — I will be candid with you — she was the 
 sole cause of my abrupt departure from town ; 
 nor should I have returned for months had it 
 not been for one line in your letter which an- 
 nounced the cessation of Ellesmere's visits here."" 
 
 Batley, with a civil inclination of his head, 
 listened to the Colonel, congratulating himself 
 inwardly upon the eminent success of his diplo- 
 macy. 
 
 " That line brought me back," said the 
 Colonel, " because it not only imparted a wel- 
 come fact, but proved to me that you knew I 
 considered Ellesmere a rival, and therefore 
 used the bit of intelligence as a hint that the 
 coast was clear," 
 
 Batley remained listening, but not quite so 
 well satisfied with tlie dexterity upon which
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 77 
 
 he piqued himself, and feeling even foolish at 
 the detection of his real purpose. 
 
 " I will be frank and free with you, my 
 dear friend," continued Mortimer ; " and if 
 Helen smiles, and you sanction it, she shall 
 be the guardian angel of my future destinies. 
 Think, Batley, on what small matters great 
 things turn ; her final rejection of EUesmere 
 one day longer delayed, would have separated 
 us for ever." 
 
 " My dear Mortimer," said Batley, " what- 
 ever Helen decides upon, I sanction ; she is 
 my only child, — the dearest object of my ex- 
 istence : her choice is mine. The rejection of 
 poor dear good-natured EUesmere was her own 
 act, unadvised by me ; if it had its origin in 
 any tender feeling towards another, I know 
 nothing about it." 
 
 " Well then," said Mortimer, " I have your 
 permission to make the attempt." 
 
 " Most assuredly," answered the happy 
 father ; " and more than that, my best wishes 
 for your success." 
 
 It was not unamusing to see these two great
 
 78 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 masters in the art oi finesse playing each other 
 ofF, each fancying that he was out-manoeuvring 
 the other. Mortimer's propositions of reform 
 and retirement were as much sneered at by 
 Batley, as Batley's affected ignorance of Mor- 
 timer's feelings, and his anxious desire that the 
 match should take place, were pooh-pooh\l by 
 Mortimer; nor were Mortimer's opinions and 
 views of the subject rendered less striking by 
 the knowledge which he had gained upon his 
 return to the hotel, touching the ardent anxiety 
 expressed by Batley, with regard to the place 
 of his destination, when he paid not only the 
 house, but the stables, his precautionary visit 
 of inquiry. 
 
 But a different scene was about to be enacted 
 in the boudoir, where Helen and her friend 
 Lady Bembridge were seated, the third person 
 of the party being a certain Captain Stopper, 
 against whom Mortimer entertained the most 
 unconquerable antipathy, and for whom Helen 
 felt not much greater admiration. Helen, 
 however, a\ hose eyes had been red with tears, 
 and whose heart had been aching ever since
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 79 
 
 Mortimer's departure, no sooner heard of his 
 return (which event had been communicated 
 by the Captain to both the ladies) than her 
 sorrow converted itself into anger, and when 
 Mortimer entered the boudoir, she received 
 him with a marked and studied coldness, which 
 threw her father into a fit of agony and per- 
 plexity. 
 
 In a piquant little book of rare merit, 
 ycleped " Maxims and Hints for an Angler^'''' 
 — speaking of a trout, the author says, "Ne- 
 ver mind what they of the old school say about 
 * playing him till he is tired ;' much valuable 
 time, and many a good fish, may be lost by 
 this antiquated proceeding: — put him in your 
 basket as soon as you can." 
 
 This advice, as regards fishing, coming from 
 an able and experienced pen, as it does, seem- 
 ed to anxious Jack perfectly applicable to the 
 affairs of humanity ; and, accordingly. Miss 
 Helen's disposition for playing with her fish 
 after having hooked him was particularly an- 
 noying to him. 
 
 Mortimer felt the alteration in her manner
 
 80 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 quite as much as she intended he should, and 
 at the moment when her bosom palpitated with 
 delight at his return, she turned from him, 
 after having permitted him to shake her hand, 
 in order to ask Captain Stopper which of the 
 new Murillo's he admired most, — the Cap- 
 tain being of that particular order of persons 
 who are not able to distinguish the difference 
 between a sign-board and a Sir Joshua. 
 
 " I thought you were out of town, Colonel 
 Mortimer," said Helen, after having received 
 a convenient " I don't know which I like 
 best," from Captain Stopper, touching the 
 pictures. 
 
 *' I have been, as you might have guessed 
 by my not having presented myself at your 
 door," said Mortimer. 
 
 " Well, my dear Helen,'' said Lady Bem- 
 bridge, who saw in a moment that a crisis was 
 at hand, and felt, by the restrained tone of 
 Helen's conversation, and the restlessness of 
 her father's manner, that she was de trop, " I '11 
 run away. If a person have a great many 
 commissions to execute for country cousins
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 81 
 
 and wishes to get through her shopping, the 
 best way is to begin early." 
 
 " Good morning !" said Helen, — " not that 
 I see any reason for your hurry. Perhaps I 
 shall see you again by-and-by." 
 
 " It is not impossible," said Lady Beoi- 
 bridge, still bustling to get away, and not only 
 to get away herself but to disturb Captain 
 Stopper, who appeared perfectly satisfied to 
 remain where he was, having been highly pleas- 
 ed by the peculiar kindness of Helen's manner 
 upon this special occasion. This, however, 
 was too much for Batley's patience, who felt 
 as if he were on the edge of a precipice, and 
 resolved, even at the risic of apparent rude- 
 ness, to get rid of the gallant soldier. 
 
 " Have you five minutes to spare ?" said 
 Jack. 
 
 " Five hours,"" replied Stopper, " if I can 
 be of use to ?/om." 
 
 " Then, come and look at a young horse," 
 said Jack, — " that I bought yesterday: I should 
 like your opinion."" 
 
 " Why," said Stopper, " giving an opinion 
 
 E 5
 
 82 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 of a horse after a man has bought him, is like 
 advising a friend in the choice of a wife after 
 he is married." 
 
 " Come then," said Jack, '* never mind, — 
 I sha'n't be offended if you abuse him." 
 
 " Shall you be at Lady Sandown's to- 
 night ?" said Stopper to Helen. 
 
 " Are yoii going ?" said Helen, with appa- 
 rent interest. 
 
 " Yes," said Stopper. 
 
 " Are you quite sure you mean to go ?" said 
 Helen. ^ 
 
 " Positive." 
 " Come !" said Jack. 
 
 " I see I must consent to be the judge," said 
 Stopper, who was actually dragged from the 
 paradise of Miss Helen's sanctum by her im- 
 patient parent. " Adieu ! — Good morning, 
 Mortimer !"" 
 
 And so they went their way, Jack having 
 no horse to show, but perfectly satisfied that 
 having once got his plague out of the house, 
 he could Jinesse some excuse for not visiting 
 the stables.
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 83 
 
 " Well, Colonel Mortimer," said Helen, as 
 soon as they were left alone, " you are an ex- 
 tremely polite person. I see you one evening 
 at dinner — you are full of news, and anecdotes 
 of ev erybody in the world — except yourself, 
 as it seems, — for the next morning off you go, 
 without one word of preparation, and leave 
 all your friends to wonder and surmise. I 
 believe you do this sort of thing to make 
 yourself interesting." 
 
 " Why, Miss Batley," said Mortimer, " if 
 I could have fancied, uj^er all the circum- 
 stances, that my staying in London or going 
 to the country could in any degree have ex- 
 cited your interest, I should certainly have 
 made a point of announcing my departure; 
 but it so happened, that when I sat next you 
 at dinner I had not formed the intention of 
 leaving town ; and when I did form it, what 
 I saw at Lady Saddington's did not at all tend 
 to make me think that anything I might do 
 could be of the slightest importance to ^om." 
 
 "What you saw!" said Helen — "what, 
 were my actions watched "i""
 
 84 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 " They were, Helen," said Mortimer, '* and 
 were the cause of my sudden flight from the 
 scene of my unhappiness." 
 
 " Colonel Mortimer !" said Helen 
 
 " Yes, Helen, — yes V sighed Mortimer. 
 " I went late ; the crowd was, as you know, 
 immense, and I was lost in the general confu- 
 sion ; but my eye rested where my heart was, 
 and I saw that the envied place in the room 
 was filled by Lord EUesmere. I saw his 
 earnestness of manner — his entire devotion to 
 you. I saw you and Lady Bembridge leave 
 the room before supper, and saw EUesmere 
 your companion in the departure. He did 
 not return, and I felt the pang of knowing 
 that his society was preferred by you to the 
 general gaiety of the scene, — or even to the 
 certainty of meeting me.*" 
 
 " But, Colonel Mortimer," said Helen, 
 " how — why — or for what reason should you 
 feel displeased with me for leaving a hot room 
 when I was tired, or for accepting the arm of 
 an intimate friend of my father's ?" 
 
 " Helen," said Mortimer, " the time is past
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 85 
 
 for dissimulation. You know why I felt as I 
 did : you know my thoughts, my hopes, my 
 wishes, as well as I know them myself. You 
 know, Helen, that I love you, — love you fond- 
 ly, tenderly, sincerely ! Could I endure the 
 sight of you flying from the place where you 
 were sure I should come to meet you, with a 
 man whose attachment to you is notorious ?" 
 
 *' Oh, Colonel Mortimer !'' said Helen, " do 
 not charge me with dissimulation ! Forgive 
 me : think no more of that evening : it is 
 past — over for ever !" 
 
 " I know, dear Helen !" said Mortimer, fond- 
 ly pressing her unresisting hand : " had not 
 that been certain, I should have returned to 
 Italy, and have tried, by a recurrence to the 
 mad pursuits of my earlier life, to dissipate 
 the recollection of the happy hours I had 
 passed with you ; but, thanks to Providence ! 
 that mystery is solved, and you — yes, you, 
 dearest Helen — will form the happiness, the 
 pride of my future existence !" 
 
 Helen spoke not, but big tears rolled down 
 her flushed cheek, and she trembled like a leaf.
 
 86 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 " Calm yourself, beloved girl," said Mor- 
 timer : " speak not — I feel that I am blessed. 
 Do not, for worlds, break the charm which is 
 over me ; — I am neither rejected nor despised !" 
 
 The look which Helen gave, confirmed his 
 happiness ; and before Batley returned from 
 not looking at his horse, Colonel Mortimer 
 and his future wife had calmed themselves into 
 something like rationality ; and when he arrived, 
 his eyes were blessed with beholding the man 
 whom of all others he desired for his son-in- 
 law, sitting tete-a-tete with his darling Helen. 
 
 " Give me joy, Batley!" said Mortimer, 
 " she consents ! " 
 
 " I do give you joy," said Jack, " and I 
 give her joy too. Come here, Helen : — here 
 she is, ray friend ; take her, and assure yourself 
 that you possess a treasure." 
 
 This appeared to " the world," as well as 
 it did to Mr. Batley, a brilliant match : and 
 most brilliant, because it blended true love with 
 wealth and station. Helen herself felt at once 
 relieved of a weight of pain and anxiety, aris- 
 ing out of the various circumstances of her
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 87 
 
 father's life. No longer was that cautious 
 course of conduct which he was so perpetually 
 inculcating required or called for. There was 
 now no secret, no mystery ; she loved Morti- 
 mer, and had owned it ; she might now speak 
 of him as she thought, and listen to his 
 praises by others, without either deteriorating 
 them, or denying his merits altogether : and 
 yet it was a step of unusual importance to take. 
 
 Mortimer was her senior by nearly twenty 
 years. His wild career had been run either 
 before she was born, or while she was yet an 
 infant : with the details and particulars of his 
 moral offences she was unacquainted : she heard 
 him generally set down as a rout ; she had read 
 in the peerage the record of his leading crime, 
 but she attentively watched his conduct and 
 listened to his conversation, without seeing or 
 hearing anything confirmatory of what she con- 
 sidered the malicious hints thrown out about 
 him. He was, however, himself sensitively alive 
 to any allusion to his youthful follies, and most 
 particularly so, if the slightest hint at them
 
 88 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 was thrown out in her presence. This sen- 
 sitiveness rendered the society of Mr. Jacob 
 Batley (who Avas certain every moment to 
 make some remark that way tending) exces- 
 sively disagreeable to him ; and unfortunately, 
 as has just been stated, the said Jacob had 
 been invited to dine with the family that 
 very day, — a circumstance which would most 
 assuredly not have taken place, had Jack 
 known that Mortimer would have dined with 
 them also ; or had he been aware of the cha- 
 racter in which he was to appear for the first 
 time in the family circle, and of the conse- 
 quent probability of getting him to furnish 
 means for the attainment of the much desired 
 seat in parliament, without troubling his bro- 
 ther on that very interesting topic. As it 
 was, and having constantly before his eyes the 
 hope of eventually possessing the said brother's 
 worldly wealth, and the consequent fear of 
 offending him, he thought the best thing he 
 could do would be, to ask Colonel Magnus to 
 join the party, and desire Helen to try and 
 get Lady Bembridge also, on her return from
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 89 
 
 shopping, to stay and dine sans fafon, hoping 
 by this means to prevent as much as possible 
 any dialogue between Jacob and Mortimer, 
 and, by rendering the conversation more gene- 
 ral, hindering the former from doing what he 
 called " giving Master Mortimer a touch-up 
 as to morality." 
 
 All these proposed arrangements were satis- 
 factorily completed ; Mortimer was separated 
 at dinner from Jacob by Lady Bembridge and 
 Colonel Magnus ; and between the constant 
 exercise of Jack's volubility on one hand, and 
 the whispering conversation which was carried 
 on by Helen and her avowed lover on the other, 
 any collision between that " hero of many a 
 tale" and his future connexion was prevented. 
 But just as Helen and Lady Bembridge were 
 on the point of leaving the dinner-room, the 
 worthy citizen, leaning forward so as com- 
 pletely to command Mortimer's attention, said, 
 apropos to nothing, and in the midst of a mo- 
 mentary lull — 
 
 " Pray, Colonel, how long have you been 
 a widower ?"
 
 90 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 The question seemed to paralyze every one 
 of the party ; and no reply being made to it, 
 he continued — 
 
 " I don't ask for mere curiosity ; — in course 
 it 's nothing to me ; — but my friend Haddock 
 and I were talking over you and your affairs 
 yesterday, and we differed as to your age ; and 
 he said — 
 
 " My dear Mr. Batley," exclaimed Lady 
 Bembridge, rising from her seat, " the moment 
 ages become the subject of conversation, ladies 
 invariably run away/* 
 
 This dexterous movement was instantly taken 
 advantage of by Helen, who also made a step 
 towards the door. 
 
 " Perhaps," said Mortimer, who turned dead- 
 ly pale with anger and confusion, " perhaps, 
 as mine appears to be the particular age 
 about to be discussed, you will permit me 
 to partake of your flight ;" saying which, and 
 having received a gracious look from Helen, 
 the offended Mortimer left the room and its 
 inhabitants in company with the retreating 
 beauties.
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 91 
 
 "What! is he gone with the women?" 
 said Jacob. 
 
 " 'Gad !" said Magnus, " you did not expect 
 him to stay ?" 
 
 " My dear brother," said Jack, " how could 
 you think of asking him such a question, and 
 so abruptly, — and before Helen ?" 
 
 " Question !" said Jacob : " Why, I asked 
 him the question, because I wanted to know. 
 As for abruptness, I don't know what you 
 mean. I don't care who asks me a question, — 
 nothing worries me." 
 
 " No, but," said Colonel Magnus, " there 
 are so many peculiar circumstances and recol- 
 lections connected with his former marriage, 
 that his feelings — ■ 
 
 " Feelings ! " said Jacob contemptuously, 
 " psha ! what are feelings ? — the woman's dead, 
 and crying won't bring her back again : and 
 if it could, I suppose, as he's dangling after 
 Helen here, he Avouldn't wish it could. I 
 never lost a wife, — took good care I wouldn't 
 — never had one — too much trouble to look 
 after."
 
 92 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 " But, my dear brother," said Jack, " you 
 are not aware, for I have had no opportunity 
 of telling you, that Colonel Mortimer has pro- 
 posed to Helen, and been accepted." 
 
 " Whew," whistled Jacob, " then she's 
 settled; — that accounts for his starting and 
 staring when I asked about his widowhood. 
 I don't care, that's one good thing: if he is 
 angry, he must get pleased again." 
 
 " Yes, only," said Jack hesitatingly, " there 
 are points in a man's life, to which it is not 
 always agreeable to refer ; and " 
 
 " Whose fault's that.?" said Jacob: " the 
 man's own ; he shouldn't have done anything 
 to be ashamed of; — as for me, I never pity 
 anybody; — /have never done anything I care 
 for talking about — that 's mj/ comfort." 
 
 " Truly it may be so," said Magnus, " but 
 Mortimer's case is a singular one : his youth 
 at the time — he was in fact entrapped by an 
 artful woman considerably his senior — in truth, 
 a thousand circumstances of extenuation dis- 
 tinguish that affair from many others of a simi- 
 lar nature."
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 93 
 
 " I dare say they do," said Jacob, " but 
 fact 's fact : he ran away with her, old as she 
 was. And as for trapping, — I should like to 
 see the woman that could trap me : — no. Colo- 
 nel, no ; what 's right 's right, what 's wrong 's 
 wrong, and wrong never comes right : that 's 
 my maxim, — no swerve — straight path. I 
 never make allowances ; nobody ever would 
 make allowances for me, that 's all I know," 
 
 '•' I trust," said Jack, " that the results of 
 his marriage with Helen may agreeably disap- 
 point you." 
 
 " il/e.'" said Jacob, — " disappoint me ! — not 
 a bit of it. It's all the same, as far as I am 
 concerned : I sha'n't trouble my head one way 
 or the other. I have my opinion, but that I 
 shall keep to myself." 
 
 " Well," said Magnus, wishing to divert the 
 current of conversation into some other and 
 less ticklish channel, and addressing himself 
 to Jack, " have you thought over what I said 
 on the subject of the borough .'^'" 
 
 This subject, as far as it went, was nearly 
 as " ticklish '^ as the other. Jack had had no
 
 94 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 opportunity of broaching the business to his 
 brother, and sat upon thorns during the open- 
 ing of the topic. 
 
 " No," said he, " no : — that is to say, I 
 have thought it over, but I have had no oppor- 
 tunity — of — that is " 
 
 " Oh !" said Magnus, giving a significant 
 nod, " I understand. My reason for ask- 
 ing is, that I find time presses. With re- 
 gard to my own tenants and immediate de- 
 pendents, of course, the thing is safe, gene- 
 rally speaking ; but when one has three or 
 four hundred tastes and fancies to consult, why, 
 even if they are one's tenants, it is difficult to 
 ensure unanimity. As for myself, as I can- 
 didly said, I wouldn't walk across my drawing- 
 room to be returned : — my drawing-room ! 
 — 'gad, no, — seven-and-thirty feet is a po- 
 sitive journey : — but I mean, that I wouldn't 
 stretch out my hand to secure their ' sweet 
 voices.' " 
 
 " What !" said Jacob, " are you talking of 
 elections ? — umph ! A man of talent, and 
 what I call up to the mark, might do a good
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 95 
 
 deal for himself and others in the House of 
 Commons just now. I know of a point to be 
 gained merely by being noticed ; a blot — a 
 regular blot to be hit, by which any calfs- 
 head, served up with brains and tongue, would 
 get both profit and popularity/' 
 
 '* Then," said Jack, " my dear brother, the 
 opportunity offers : three thousand pounds will 
 do the job, and the Colonel will secure the 
 
 return." 
 
 " Positively," said Magnus, — " as safe as 
 if the first letter were franked." 
 
 " Indeed," said Jack, " I was going to speak 
 to you about it, as the Colonel knows." 
 
 " To me /" said Jacob ; — " why, to me ?" 
 
 " Why," said Jack, " knowing the kindness 
 you have always shown me, and the confidence 
 I have in your brotherly feeling, I thought, 
 perhaps, you might be induced to afford me 
 the opportunity of again sitting, and that" 
 
 " Psha, Jack !" said Jacob; — " what a no- 
 tion ! What in the world should you be in 
 Parliament for ? — you are nothing of a de- 
 bater, and you have nothing to back you. You
 
 96 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 have got your pension, and what you would 
 say would go but for little : you might talk 
 against time, — do the duty of a division bell : 
 — stuff' !^' 
 
 " Well," said Jack, " I certainly do not 
 mean to press either my talents or claims upon 
 your attention, but it would be, I admit, a 
 great object with me to avail myself of my 
 friend's offer." 
 
 " All I can say,"" said the Colonel, " is, that 
 it is as safe, secure, and snug as Sarum senior 
 used to be " 
 
 " Umph !" said Jacob. 
 
 " Think of that," said Jack, elated by the 
 considering mood into which he saw Jacob had 
 fallen. 
 
 " It might, to be sure," said Jacob, " be a 
 good thing, looking at it in one way."" 
 
 " All I can say," said Jack, " is, that if you 
 are disposed to assist me upon this occasion, 
 it shall be the last time I ever will mention 
 the word money to you ; and I am sure you, 
 my dear Magnus, will forgive me for talking of 
 private matters in this manner before you, at
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 97 
 
 the same time that you may s^rve as a witness 
 to my declaration." 
 
 " Three thousand pounds !"" said Jacob ; — 
 " two years of the session over." 
 
 " Yes," said Magnus ; " but, understand 
 me, — I am prepared to guarantee " 
 
 " Stop, Colonel, stop V said Jacob ; " this 
 bargaining may get us into scrapes. I take 
 care of Number One. Jack is my brother ; 
 but if I talk upon this matter, and if I may 
 be inclined to go further into it, we must be 
 alone : nothing like caution. Nobody would 
 pity me if I was clapped-up in Newgate under 
 the Speaker's warrant — hah ! — well, thank 
 God ! nobody will ever try to make me wear 
 such a wig as he does — no. Three thousand 
 pounds isn't much for such a point: — but is 
 it all certain ?"" 
 
 " All plain-sailing," said Magnus. " You 
 know, amongst the people with whom I live, 
 of course, a man is obliged to be cautious, 
 as you say, and sure of his card. I might, 
 perhaps, throw my influence into another scale, 
 but I prefer a sort of independence. Con- 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 ne.cted as I am with so many interests, and 
 with such a variety of duties to perform, I wish 
 to niaintuia a perfect personal neutrality ; and 
 therefore, certainly not wishing to make such 
 an offer to anybody politically opposed to my 
 party, I prefer delegating my vote to some- 
 body who, taking the same views as myself, 
 can afford from all the various engagements of 
 society, time, — and, I may add, health and 
 constitution, — sufficient for an adequate and 
 conscientious exercise of his duties," 
 
 " Three thousand pounds," again repeated 
 Jacob. 
 
 " It is not so very large a sum !"" said Jack ; 
 " and under the guarantee, as to the period 
 of sitting " 
 
 «« No," said Jacob, " no." 
 
 " I see," said his delighted brother, — " I 
 see by the twinkle of your eye that you like 
 the notion. Need I say, again and again, how- 
 grateful I shall be." 
 
 " Grateful !" said Jacob, " what d'ye mean 
 by grateful ? — you will be grateful when you
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 99 
 
 get the money — for a week perhaps ; and 
 then, once in the seat — psha ! — there 's no such 
 thing as gratitude in the world. Nobody ever 
 was grateful to me ; — I suppose I never did 
 anything to make anybody grateful. I'm sure 
 I never was grateful to anybody ; I don't want 
 to be grateful. I work my way ; what I get, 
 I earn : I don't know what gratitude means." 
 
 " But," said the Colonel, " in this case, a 
 fraternal feeling " 
 
 " Fraternal fiddlestick !*' said Jacob. "What 
 difference does it make to me whether Jack is 
 your brother or mine ? — we are all brothers. 
 Why, if I had indulged in fraternal feeling 
 towards him, I should have been in jail long 
 before now ; and he knows that his anxiety 
 about this very affair arises out of the ques- 
 tion between a seat in the Commons or a room 
 in the King's Bench." 
 
 " My dear Jacob !" said Jack. 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha !" said the Colonel. 
 
 " Laugh, my lads !" said the merchant : — 
 " many a true word is spoken in jest. No, — 
 
 F 2
 
 100 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 if the seat is certain for three thousand pounds, 
 I think, with a guarantee such as you speak 
 of, the thing isn't dear."" 
 
 " Why," said Magnus, " you speak of it as 
 a regular bargain — a kind of purchase and 
 sale ; now, that is by no means the case. My 
 people are all perfectly independent, only 
 there are certain contingencies which "" 
 
 " Well," interrupted Jacob, " I am ready 
 to listen to all the contingencies and condi- 
 tions, but not with a third person present : 
 now that 's flat. I trust nobody, and I will 
 not get myself into a scrape." 
 
 " My dear Jacob," said Jack, " you are 
 kindest of the kind ; your prudence is perfectly 
 praiseworthy. The invalidation of the whole 
 thing, and personal difficulty to yourself, might 
 result from the possibility of my being called 
 upon hereafter as evidence to the transaction." 
 
 " That 's what I say, Jack," said Jacob, 
 finishing his bumper of port, and knocking 
 the foot of the glass upon the table. 
 
 " Well, then," said Jack, giving the Colonel 
 a signal with one of his eyes that matters
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 101 
 
 were evidently going on well, " I will leave 
 you two to talk the affair over. I tell you 
 my feeling on the business — I know that of 
 the Colonel ; and whatever sacrifice you may 
 be kind enough to make, in spite of your 
 
 views of gratitude, I"' 
 
 " There," interrupted Jacob, " no speeches. 
 I never believe a word a man says when he 
 tries to flatter; it's all humbug! — no man 
 means what he says. You go and look after 
 the arrangements up-stairs ; Colonel Magnus 
 and I will discuss the other concern."" 
 
 " Thank you, thank you, my dear brother !" 
 said Jack. " Here, Magnus," (delivering the 
 bell-rope into his custody,) — *' ring for wine 
 when you want it, and make yourselves com- 
 fortable." 
 
 This delegation to the Colonel was upon 
 the principle already noticed, of mollifying 
 the merchant by a progressive exhibition, as 
 the doctors call it, of red port ; and Jack, 
 satisfied that between the ebriety of the dandy, 
 and the inebriety of his respectable relative, 
 he should in less than an hour be the member
 
 102 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 elect for Mudbury, proceeded up-stairs to join 
 his darling daughter and her distinguished 
 intended. 
 
 " Well," said Jacob, as soon as his brother 
 was fairly out of the room, drawing his chair 
 close to the Colonel, " now, we are alone — 'gad, 
 I think, as I have said, that a good deal is to 
 be done in the next session by a practical man 
 who knows his ground. As to our Colonies and 
 the trade, and the Slave Emancipation, and 
 that — I deal rather largely in that line, and 
 know a thing or two." 
 
 " A.y," said the Colonel, " you mean the 
 Apprenticing question .?" 
 
 " Yes," said Jacob—" that, you know, is, in 
 my mind, all stuff— nonsense ! As I say, a 
 black is a black ; and, as Lord Brougham writes, 
 till you can make the black man white, why, 
 you can't give him a white man's feelings — 
 that 's my view. Well, they want to emanci- 
 pate these blacks — talk of humanity — what 
 does that mean? — why, don't you see, — call 
 the slave ' slave,' or call him ' 'prentice,' he '11 
 still be black ; and, as Brougham says, (I always
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 103 
 
 stick to him,) ' if he isn't whipped he won't 
 work.' Well, now, they want to set these 
 fellows free — good: — we say no ; but if they 
 will, why, we ask twenty millions of money 
 — a goodish lump out of a poor country — 
 not to change the nature of the cretur — not 
 to make him white — not to turn his wool 
 into hair — not to stop flogging him, — but to 
 call him a ' 'prentice'', and not to flog him un- 
 less his flogging is permitted by a sort of jus- 
 tice, who is to be paid for seeing how the flog- 
 ging is done. Now, my idea is, that although 
 this thing mayn't be carried for three, or four, 
 or five years, still, a man with a notion of 
 what 's what, as I say — might make a hit in 
 the House, and" 
 
 " — Benefit the cause of philanthropy," said 
 the Colonel. 
 
 " Philanthropy !" said Jacob, " fiddlestick 
 philanthropy; not a bit of it; — do good to 
 himself." 
 
 " Very probably," said the Colonel ; " but, 
 my dear sir, do you think that Mr. Batley has 
 considered the subject sufficiently — quite out
 
 104 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 of his line — to secure that advantage to him- 
 self or the cause ?" 
 
 *' Mr. Batley," said Jacob, filling his glass, 
 " is up to every bit of it : — has all the Alder- 
 manbury secrets at his command, and can show 
 up the whole system, ay, to the very bottom." 
 
 " I had no idea that he" 
 
 *' He ! " said Jacob, looking intently at the 
 Colonel, " who d 'ye mean hy he? I never 
 talk of he's or she's, — I am speaking of my- 
 self." 
 
 "Oh!" said Magnus, "but I understood 
 that our worthy host was to be the person to 
 represent Mudbury under your patronage."" 
 
 " Patronage ! " said Jacob, " I never pa- 
 tronize anybody, nor anything — why should 
 I ? Who ever patronized me ? Nonsense ! 
 You tell us of an opening at the House of 
 Commons: of what use would Jack be ? — none. 
 All he says is gabble gabble gabble — stuff! 
 — very fine in diplomacy — bows, and smiles, 
 and all that, — but no weight in Parliament. 
 All his cherry-clappery rattle with a pension 
 in his pouch, will go no way there, com-
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 105 
 
 pared with what I may think fit to say upon 
 subjects with which I am perfectly conversant, 
 having a hundred and fifty thousand pounds 
 in my pocket into the bargain." 
 
 " You, sir !" said the Colonel. 
 
 " I, sir !" said Jacob, " I speak for myself — 
 whom else should I speak for ? You tell me, as I 
 have just said, that there is a seat in the House 
 of Commons which you can command : well, I 
 should like to sit in the House of Commons, — 
 especially for a borough which returns only one 
 member — have it all to myself — no partnership, 
 no colleague, no bother, I, all alone. Well, you 
 offer it to Jack, — of what use can it be to him ? 
 and if it is of use, what do I care ? he never 
 would put himself out of his way for me. We 
 are alone — I know the world : — he wants 
 me to give him three thousand pounds to put 
 him again into parliament ; I want to be in 
 parliament myself: now, if that can be done, 
 I '11 make the three thousand, four ; and that 
 — pass the wine. Colonel — that will cover all 
 contingencies." 
 
 Colonel Magnus stared with astonishment at 
 
 F 5
 
 106 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 his companion. He was prepared to admit all 
 his failings and all his selfishness, still, the 
 present exhibition far exceeded his most san- 
 guine anticipations. But this selfishness, hate- 
 ful as it appeared even to Magnus, came quali- 
 fied through that " golden mean," which gives, 
 like the less valuable tint of jealousy, a colour to 
 everything it falls upon : — the words " make the 
 three thousand four, to cover all contingencies," 
 rang in the ears of the Colonel so loudly, as to 
 drive out everything that had preceded them ; 
 and all he said at the moment was — 
 
 " Then you would hke to sit yourself.'*" 
 " To be sure," said Jacob, " who else .'' Why 
 there are half a dozen whipper-snappering shop- 
 keepers in parliament — paupers, — beggars, 
 — who flourish about, and frank, and look 
 fine, and do jobs. "Why shouldn't I, who care 
 for no man, — with a business better than the 
 Bank itself, — why shouldn't I sit there too ? If 
 you choose, therefore, I 'm your man, and four 
 thousand the sum ; — only, no bother — no con- 
 test — no rotten eggs and poll-cats — understand 
 that. Reform has done wonders — makes tlie
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 107 
 
 thing easy when it is snug. I stand no non- 
 sense : if I thought my little-finger nail was 
 to be jammed against a door-post, I wouldn't 
 stir." 
 
 " Rely upon it," said Magnus, " there will 
 be no opposition : I only wish Mudbury sent 
 two members instead of one, so certain is my 
 interest." 
 
 " If it did," said Jacob, " as I said before, 
 I wouldn't have it. I hate community of in- 
 terests: — never had a partner — never had a 
 wife — and hang me if I believe I ever had a 
 friend." 
 
 " Then," said Magnus, who with equal 
 magnanimity threw over his dear friend Jack 
 in consideration of the additional thousand 
 pounds, " I am to consider what you propose 
 final as to this." 
 
 " Done and done," said Jacob, " that I be- 
 lieve is what you say at Newmarket ; it is what 
 we say when we bet hats in the city ; and 
 whenever and wherever to-morrow you like to 
 settle definitively, I 'm your man, and the 
 stumpy down, upon the prescribed conditions."
 
 108 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 " I will call on you at your counting-house,"'"' 
 said the Colonel. 
 
 " Do," said Jacob, " that ""s business-like ; 
 -^but how are you to find out Lillypot Lane?" 
 
 " Leave me alone,"" said the Colonel ; " I 
 know London pretty well : — so, now, shall we 
 go to the ladies?" 
 
 " You may. Colonel," said Jacob, " but not 
 I ; I think I am rather in disgrace with your 
 friend Mortimer. I suppose the wound will 
 heal — no matter whether it does or not : — how- 
 ever, I shan't try to-night. Give me another 
 glass of port, and I will toddle homewards, 
 and if I am not too late, perhaps get one glass 
 of hot punch and a cigar at ' The Horn.' " 
 
 " The what ?" said Magnus. 
 
 " ' The Horn' in Doctors' Commons," said 
 Jacob. 
 
 " A most ominous sign for that particular 
 neighbourhood," said Magnus. 
 
 " And a capital place for a chop and a 
 bottle of black-strap," said Jacob. " You fine 
 gentlemen don't know half the good places in 
 this world."
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 109 
 
 " Well," said Magnus, " if you are really 
 going, I think I shall retire also. I have no 
 carriage here, and, if you have no objection, I 
 will walk with you : I am going to Crocky's 
 for my whist, — sober, sedate, and calcu- 
 lating." 
 
 " Ah!" said Jacob, " as it's dark, you 
 don't mind taking my arm — eh ! Never mind, 
 Colonel, the member for Mudbury may be 
 better worthy notice ; — not that I mind ; — 
 let every tub stand on its own bottom ; and, 
 you mark we, if I sit in that House till I grow 
 to the benches, I '11 never pair off : no com- 
 munity for me, even if the interests are differ- 
 ent. Come along." 
 
 And thus did these two worthy gentlemen 
 quit the house of Mr. John Batley : the af- 
 fectionate solicitude of his brother (for him- 
 self) being almost equalled by the Colonel's 
 philosophical abandonment, for the sake of one 
 additional thousand pounds, of his dear friend 
 and Amphitryon. 
 
 Ainsi va le monde, as Jacob would have said 
 if he had spoken French.
 
 110 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 It was perhaps fortunate for the tranquillity 
 of the Batley family, and even as regarded the 
 final issue of Mortimer's connexion with it, 
 that Uncle Jacob, wisely considering discretion 
 the better part of valour, had effected his re- 
 treat from Grosvenor Street without exhibit- 
 ing his comely person in the drawing-room. 
 Certain it was, that the Colonel was bitterly 
 offended by the question he had put at the 
 dinner-table; indeed, he had taken an oppor- 
 tunity, soon after Mr. John Batley joined the 
 ladies, of drawing him aside and complaining of 
 his brother's abruptness and want of feeling, 
 
 " The circumstances," said Mortimer, *' con- 
 nected with that marriage, and the death of 
 my poor Amelia, are of a nature not to be 
 alluded to without wringing my heart to its very
 
 AND MARRIAGES. Ill 
 
 core. Heaven knows that, if repentance and 
 self-reproach can atone for vice and folly, my 
 sufferings since her defection and subsequent 
 death must have gone far to wash out the 
 stain that fell upon my earlier life. A refer- 
 ence to it made by another, drives me almost 
 mad ; and when made in a tone such as that 
 adopted by your brother, the feeling is still 
 stronger : — do, pray, put him on his guard, and 
 explain to him that the occurrences of my youth- 
 ful days are interdicted subjects in my presence." 
 " It is wonderful," said Batley, " how to- 
 tally impracticable he is. He has no intention 
 to offend, but he has no feeling by which he 
 can appreciate the feelings of other people, and 
 I fear he is now too old to mend." 
 
 " Only save me from the recurrence of such 
 a thing," said Mortimer ; " and above all, beg 
 him not to notice what occurred to-night in 
 the way of explanation or apology, if he should 
 express any wish that way ; let it be forgotten 
 — buried for ever." 
 
 " 1 '11 manage him, rely upon it," said Batley. 
 " Batley," said the Colonel, after having
 
 112 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 looked at him earnestly for nearly half a 
 minute, " do you think — do you believe — do 
 you know — whether Helen is acquainted with 
 any of the circumstances of that affair ?" 
 
 Batley knew that she was to a certain extent 
 aware of it, as indeed it seemed impossible she 
 should not be, inasmuch as her curiosity (interest 
 is perhaps a better word) naturally had led her 
 to enquire whom Mortimer's former wife was; 
 and moreover, as has been already insinuated, 
 she, like many other young ladies in the world, 
 was not unfrequently in the habit of consulting 
 that important book of fate " The Peerage," 
 and there, as we have already heard, she had 
 seen recorded and registered tlie divorce of 
 Lady Hillingdon, and her subsequent marriage 
 to Mortimer : but Batley, who wished to prove 
 Helen infinitely more innocent and ignorant 
 touching that affair than Helen really was, ex- 
 pressed considerable doubt whether she knew 
 anything at all about it. 
 
 A smile which curled upon Mortimer''s lip 
 sufficiently expressed his incredulity upon 
 that point, as he said with impressive earnest-
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 113 
 
 ness, " She ought to know the history — she 
 ought not to marry such a man as I have been 
 without a perfect knowledge of his early faults 
 and follies." 
 
 This puzzled Batley : it seemed as if Morti- 
 mer himself felt that a girl of right feeling, 
 delicacy of mind, and purity of heart, might 
 feel a repugnance to unite herself with such a 
 man. If this should be started, and if Helen 
 should be frightened into refusing to complete 
 her engagement to her now accepted lover 
 upon that ground, everything would be lost, 
 the match broken off, and Helen, in all proba- 
 bility, doomed to a continued state of single 
 unblessedness. 
 
 Batley, as was not unfrequently the case, 
 was beaten by his own ingenuity; and all that 
 Mortimer could extract from him was, a sort 
 of equivocal kind of stammering of, " Why, 
 I, — really, I, — upon my word, I,"' in which he 
 dealt for about half a minute — time quite suf- 
 ficient to assure the Colonel that Helen did 
 know the whole history, and did not see in it 
 any ground for objection.
 
 114 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 " Come," said Mortimer, " Helen does know 
 the story — I liope she does — my heart will 
 then be at rest : tell her it myself I cannot ; 
 but if she is already informed of it, there ends 
 one of my great difficulties, — for, Batley, bad as 
 I may have been, I could not now find it in my 
 heart to deceive or mislead such a girl as your 
 daughter, even upon the most trifling point." 
 
 " Why then," said the sensitive parent, " I 
 vpill honestly tell you that I believe she does 
 know the leading facts of the case ; indeed, you 
 may rely upon it, the very cause and origin of 
 this conversation, my tough-skinned brother, 
 would take care she should not die uninformed 
 of them." 
 
 " Heaven defend me from him .'" said Mor- 
 timer, " though he is your brother. It seems 
 quite extraordinary that Nature can form men 
 of such opposite and varied characters and tem- 
 peraments as we see every day in the world. 
 Mr. Jacob Batley would discuss and descant 
 for an hour, without flinching, upon a subject 
 the slightest allusion to which would throw me 
 into agonies."
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 115 
 
 a 
 
 A rough diamond," said John. 
 
 " Which, as far as I am concerned," said 
 Mortimer, " requires cutting." 
 
 " I don't mean," said Batley, " to press him 
 upon you, I assure you ; but there is a great 
 deal of good in him." 
 
 " Of that I have no doubt," said the Colo- 
 nel ; *' and it seems but reasonable there 
 should be, for, as far as my experience goes, 
 very little comes out of him. No : I know 
 you are too much a man of the world to be 
 offended about it; but I must beg, — at least 
 when Helen is present, — that he may not be of 
 our parties. You have no idea of the misery 
 in which I live during his presence : I feel 
 like a fellow on the tight-rope expecting every 
 minute a rude push from the clown which is 
 to topple him over." 
 
 " I assure you," said Batley, who would 
 willingly have sacrificed fifty vulgar brothers, 
 if he had had them, on the shrine of the ele- 
 gant Colonel whom he worshipped, " it shall 
 not occur again. Indeed, to be candid with 
 you," — and when Batley was candid, his in-
 
 IIG BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 genuousness was quite overwhelming, — " he 
 would not have dined here to-day if I had 
 anticipated the pleasure of your company, nor 
 if I had not had an object to gain — a point to 
 carry — very near my heart." 
 
 " And what may that be ?" said Mortimer. 
 
 Now came the moment. Mortimer had 
 made the expulsion of Jacob a sort of condi- 
 tion in the treaty of alliance between them : 
 Jacob's assistance to further the parliamentary 
 scheme was therefore not to be gained by any 
 more of that social hospitable conduct which 
 his brother, as we have already seen, was in the 
 habit of observing towards him whenever he 
 happened to require his aid pecuniarily ; and, 
 consequently, Mr. Batley jun. thought he 
 might most reasonably and seasonably sound 
 his intended son-in-law as to his disposition 
 with regard to the three thousand pounds re- 
 quired by his friend Magnus for the seat. If, 
 thought Jack, he hates my brother so much 
 as to exile him from my house, he must be 
 aware that I cannot expect him to assist me in 
 the enterprize against the worthy people of
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 117 
 
 Mudbury ; and, as money is no object with 
 him, he will not hesitate to secure himself 
 against the intrusion of a person whom he so 
 much dislikes by an outlay of this sort, which, 
 while it guarantees peace of mind to himself, 
 gives him the additional gratification of serving 
 and pleasing me. 
 
 " Why,"" said Batley, having made up his 
 mind and screwed his ' courage to the stick- 
 ing-place,' " the fact is, I am anxious to be 
 in Parliament again ; — and — I — perhaps you 
 are aware that our friend Magnus has the 
 power of meeting my wishes." 
 
 " I know," said Mortimer, " that Magnus, 
 who is, as the phrase goes, ' hard-up,' is hawk- 
 ing about a Wiltshire borough, which he be- 
 lieves he can command, but I do not : besides, 
 you don't mean to pay for coming in, I presume?" 
 
 " Why," said Batley, " I did think of it. 
 Since the Reform Bill has passed, I see no 
 other chance except standing a contest in one 
 of the large boroughs, which I am not up to ; 
 as for counties, they are out of the question for 
 any of us : and so, you see, I naturally directed
 
 118 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 my views towards my brother Jacob. Now, as 
 I know by experience that nothing but the 
 soothing system is likely to succeed with him, 
 I had begun a series of invitations in order to 
 win him over ; and, in fact, the one w hich he 
 accepted to-day has had some effect, for I got 
 him to talk upon the subject with the Colonel 
 this evening, and left them discussing it when 
 I came up-stairs." 
 
 " I think," said Mortimer, " you could 
 either lay out your money more wisely, or, 
 perhaps more wisely still, not lay it out at 
 all. All I can say is, if a seat in Parliament 
 were an object with me, and I was sure of 
 obtaining it by the process you propose to 
 adopt, I should give it up in despair. — Come, 
 let us join the ladies." 
 
 This cut-short did not quite please Batley, 
 who found that, however generous, liberal, or 
 noble a man's sentiments may be, the moment 
 the word money is mentioned, he sinks to 
 the common level of humanity. Jack con- 
 gratulated himself that he had not gone the 
 entire length of asking Mortimer's assistance.
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 119 
 
 which, it was quite clear, he would not have 
 afforded him ; and with the elasticity of mind 
 for which he was pre-eminent, he fell back 
 upon Jacob as his only hope. 
 
 Mortimer left his future father-in-law some- 
 what abruptly it must be confessed, and re- 
 turned to the front drawing-room, where Helen 
 and Lady Bembridge were still ttte-a-tete; but 
 his manner was subdued, the smile which had 
 previously played so agreeably on his mouth had 
 vanished, and a dense cloud of care seemed to 
 hang on his brow. He had decided, — his course 
 was chosen, — and the beaming, blushing Helen 
 was his own : — but, could he see her without a 
 recollection of the past ? — could he forget those 
 scenes and passages of his life of the details of 
 which he devoutly hoped she was ignorant ? No : 
 — let the man of the world be ever so harden- 
 ed ; let him fancy himself callous to the appeals 
 of feeling or conscience, his vaunted courage 
 fails him when his looks rest upon confiding 
 innocence like Helen's. He was wretched in 
 the midst of his happiness, and gazed upon bis 
 treasure, as her father justly called her, with
 
 120 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 a feeling of doubt and distrust. " When she 
 knows me, she will despise me," said to himself 
 this wealthy, worldly man : his love for her, 
 devoted as it was, was devoid of that freshness 
 and singleness of heart which is so essential to 
 earthly happiness. The besetting evil of his 
 life was mistrust, not only in himself but others. 
 He had himself triumphed over the confidence 
 of a fond husband — he had been wooed and 
 won by a fair and lovely creature, strange to 
 say, not unlike Helen personally ; and as he 
 sat, abstracted and away from her, gazing 
 on her bright eyes, her snow-white forehead, 
 and her jetty curls, — curls blacker than the 
 raven's plumage, — instead of contemplating 
 the bright vision with satisfaction and delight, 
 a deep-fetched sigh from his inmost heart was 
 mingled with the thought that such had once 
 been his loved, — his lost Amelia ! 
 
 The associations which lead men to cer- 
 tain actions of their lives are unaccount- 
 able, their effects extraordinary, and some- 
 times absurd — pre-eminently absurd. In this 
 case most true and certain is it, that the sym-
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 121 
 
 pathy which first attracted Mortimer to Helen 
 was her resemblance to the unhappy Lady 
 Hillingdon, his former wife. And yetj if the 
 likeness could have led to any conclusion, it 
 might have reminded him of her misconduct 
 and miserable fate. And so in point of fact it 
 did. Whilst he sat that very evening, contem- 
 plating her beauty — unquestionable beauty too 
 — he pictured to himself the perils of her 
 future life ; married to a man much older 
 than herself, and consequently more exposed 
 to the arts and attentions of flatterers, who, 
 like the Mortimer of other days, would no 
 doubt be found in her train, pursuing exactly 
 the course which he had followed, even before 
 she was born. 
 
 " No," said Mortimer to himself, " she must 
 live great part of the year at Sadgrove ; there, 
 her influence will be truly beneficial to me; 
 there, in a calm and quiet retreat from the 
 giddy world, she will exert a mild and genial 
 influence over our neighbourhood ; benevolence 
 and charity will be the leading attributes of 
 her character ; and there, she will eternally 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 bind my affections, draw me from this idle 
 town and its associations, make me happy here, 
 and," added he, with a sigh of mistrust, " here- 
 after." 
 
 All this, right and reasonable as it might be, 
 was not what was to be expected from an ardent 
 and devoted lover. Nor was Mortimer ardent, 
 however devoted he might be ; that was most 
 certain. Helen saw that he was not entirely at 
 ease, — not happy as she would have wished 
 to see him ; and of course, as perfectly unac- 
 quainted with what had recently passed between 
 him and her father, as with that which was 
 passing in his mind at the moment, she quitted 
 Lady Berabridge, and, throwing down some 
 absurd sort of work upon which she fancied 
 she was employing herself, she crossed the 
 room, and, seating herself beside him, said — 
 
 " Dear Francis, what is the matter? — you 
 look ill, —you look melancholy, — nay, you 
 look cross ; rely upon it, frowns do not become 
 you." 
 
 Mortimer smiled, and took her hand. It 
 was the first time she had called him Francis ;
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 123 
 
 it was the first time she had ventured to dis- 
 cuss the character of his countenance, or give 
 an opinion as to what became it, or what did 
 not. The smile was one of doubtful import, — 
 the pressure of the hand was tremulous. 
 
 " I will smile, Helen, if you wish it," said 
 Mortimer. 
 
 " Not if you are not in a smiling humour," 
 said Helen ; " I hate anything that is not natu- 
 ral, — as my thoughts are, so are my looks,— 
 my face is, I am sure, the index of my mind, 
 -»-I couldn't smile if I were not pleased. And 
 yet I have seen women in parties look as lively 
 as I do now, while their hearts were breaking." 
 
 " Why really," said Lady Bembridge, " it 
 must be confessed, if a woman have any do- 
 mestic grief rankling in her bosom, it is a 
 very difficult task to gild the countenance with 
 a mirthful expression." 
 
 " And," said Mortimer, " what made you 
 think the hearts of those laughinor ladies were 
 breaking, Helen ? " 
 
 " Oh !" said Helen, " because I knew their 
 little private histories, and have seen all 
 
 G 2
 
 124 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 through their conduct ; — nay, I have heard a 
 husband in a crowded room speak as rudely, 
 and nearly as loudly to his wife, as he would 
 have done with the same disposition if they 
 had been alone, — and I have seen the patient 
 beauty, pale with fear at the violence of her 
 lord and master, her cheek pale as a lily, and 
 her lips blanched with fear, force an expression 
 into her countenance, not only placid, but gay 
 when spoken to by another unconscious person 
 at the same moment. I have wondered as I 
 watched, and loved her for hiding from the 
 world the harshness of the man, whose ill- 
 humour, as a devoted wife, she would not 
 betray." 
 
 " Well then," said Mortimer, half whisper- 
 ingly, " if we ever do quarrel in public, you 
 will, I hope, emulate the example you so much 
 extol." 
 
 " Quarrel I" said Helen, gazing on his fine 
 countenance, " what should we quarrel about .'*"" 
 
 ♦' I am sure I don't know," said Mortimer ; 
 *' I am only providing against the most un- 
 pleasant contingencies."
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 125 
 
 "No," said Helen, " let us go into the coun- 
 try, — let us leave this noisy town, — I am get- 
 ting heartily tired of it: — I am, Francis," — this 
 last asseveration was caused by a sort of incre- 
 dulous shake of Francis's head, — " all I ask is 
 peace and quiet, and the society of those I love." 
 " I think," said Mortimer, " you will like 
 Sadgrove, — it is a nice place. It wants the 
 addition of a few more rooms, which we will 
 give it, Helen. The Severn runs its silvery 
 stream at the foot of the knoll on which the 
 house stands ; and I assure you, though not 
 very extensive, the park is as prettily thrown 
 about, and as richly wooded, as the best land- 
 scape gardener in the world could desire." 
 
 " I am sure I shall like it," said Helen : — 
 " you like it .? " 
 
 *' Yes," said Mortimer, " I used to delight 
 in it." 
 
 " When were you there last, Francis ?''"' said 
 Helen. 
 
 " Last !'' said Mortimer, — and his counte- 
 nance resumed the gloomy expression which 
 the conversation of the last few minutes had
 
 126 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 in a great measure dispelled, — " last ! — I 
 haven't been there much lately, — I, — that is 
 — not for four or five years." 
 
 " It is a delightful neiglibourhood," said 
 Helen. 
 
 " A remarkably fine country," said Morti- 
 mer. 
 
 " Aye !"" said Helen, " but I mean a de- 
 lightful neighbourhood for society. I have a 
 cousin living not above twenty miles from 
 Sadgrove, and he says nothing can be more 
 sociable." 
 
 Mortimer made no answer. When he lived 
 at Sadgrove with Amelia, Sadgrove was a de- 
 sert. This fact never occurred to him, when 
 he looked forward to the solitude of Sadgrove 
 as a most delightful passage of his future life, 
 in which, like another Adam, he might enjoy 
 his paradise with one sole companion : — the 
 expression " delightful neighbourhood" used 
 by Helen, brought to his ardent and sensitive 
 mind an entirely new picture of his former 
 retirement. Neighbours, — neighbourhood, — 
 what did it mean ? When he lived there, the
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 127 
 
 gates of Sadgrove Park rusted on their hinges, 
 and the grass grew on the sills of the lodges ; 
 it was then indeed a retirement, and he still 
 looked to it as one ; nor till this moment had 
 he anticipated any difficulty in reconciling a 
 young creature, who possessed a desire for the 
 pleasures of the country and the enjoyments 
 of rural life, to a seclusion which is the lot of 
 those who, by the gratification of some unholy 
 passion, purchase a perpetuity of solitude, even 
 in the midst of the multitude. 
 
 Helen's abstract notion of a country life 
 (having been on visits with her vivacious pa- 
 rent to various country-houses) was, the trans- 
 ference of London into the country. A greater 
 ease, and more perfect sociability, rendered 
 her happier when away from the trammels 
 of town society ; but, of the enjoyments to 
 which Mortimer looked forward, — the quiet 
 stroll by moonlight ; the tete-d-tete in which 
 the husband was to read while the wife was 
 to draw ; or the morning during which the 
 husband was to shoot and the wife to do 
 what she could to amuse herself; the visits to
 
 128 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 cottages; the inquiries after sick old women; 
 the superintendence of Infant Schools, and 
 " all such," as the worthy Wadsford hath it, 
 she had no idea. The windows of a drawing- 
 room looking over the Yale of Llangollen or 
 the rails of Grosvenor Square, were still the 
 windows of a drawing-room; and a boudoir 
 well muslined-up, whether it were blinded 
 from the glare of Park Lane or sheltered 
 from the bright sun beaming on the wide 
 sea, was still a boudoir ; and, therefore, 
 Helen's idea of a charming country was, where 
 she might do exactly as she did in London, 
 only in a purer atmosphere for a certain part 
 of the year : and it was for this reason that 
 she was glad to get away from a routine 
 of society of which towards the end of the 
 season she grew tired, to that which, as she 
 felt, she might in her new capacity choose for 
 herself. 
 
 Old Flint, in " The Maid of Bath,'' when 
 endeavouring to win the consent of Miss Lin- 
 nett to their marriage, asks the young lady if 
 she is fond of the country ; to which she mere-
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 129 
 
 \y replies by a repetition of the question. 
 " Aye," says Flint, " because why, I think it 
 is the most prettiest place for your true lovers 
 to live in — something so rural. For my part, 
 I can''t see what pleasure pretty misses can 
 take in galloping to plays and to balls, and 
 such expensive vagaries ; there is ten times 
 more pastime in fetching walks in the fields 
 and plucking the daisies." Whereupon Miss 
 Linnett observes, " that even in this happy 
 state, where the most perfect union prevails, 
 some solitary hours will intrude, and the time 
 now and then hang heavy on our hands." 
 
 " What, in the country ! my dear miss," 
 says Flint, — "not a minute; you will find 
 all pastime and jollity there: for what with 
 minding the dairy, dunning the tenants, pre- 
 serving and pickling, nursing the children, 
 scolding the servants, mending and making, 
 roasting boiling and baking, you won'^t have 
 a minute to spare ; you will be merry and 
 happy as the days they are long.'* 
 
 Upon this point Miss Linnett ventures a 
 doubt, but expresses a hope, that as Mr. Flint's 
 
 g5
 
 130 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 pleasures are chiefly domestic, his home is as 
 convenient as can be : — " You have good gar- 
 dens," says the young lady, " no doubt ?" 
 
 " Gardens ! " says the venerable lover, — 
 " why, before the great parlour window there 
 grows a couple of yews, as tall as a mast and 
 as thick as a steeple ; and the boughs cast so 
 delightful a shade that you can't see your 
 hand in any part of the room ; and in them, 
 there constantly roosts a curious couple of 
 owls, which I won't suffer our folks to disturb, 
 they make so rural a noise in the night. As 
 for my mansion, you may stretch your legs 
 without crossing the threshold : — why, we go 
 up and down stairs in every room in the house. 
 To be sure, it 's a little out of repair at pre- 
 sent ; not that it rains in, where the casements 
 are whole, at above five or six places at 
 present." 
 
 " Your prospects are pleasing ?" says Miss 
 Linnett. 
 
 •' From off the leads," replied Flint ; " for 
 why, I have boarded up most of the windows 
 to save paying the tax ; but, to my thinking,
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 131 
 
 that which will be our bedchamber, miss, is 
 the most pleasantest place in the house." 
 
 " Oh !" replied Miss Linnett, colouring like 
 crimson, " you are too polite !" 
 
 " No, miss," said Flint, " it isn't for that^ 
 — but, you must know, there is a large bow- 
 window facing the East, which does finely for 
 drying of herbs : it is hung round with the 
 hatchments of all the folks that have died in 
 the family: — and then the pigeon-house is 
 right over our heads, and we shall be waked 
 at daybreaking with their billing and cooing, 
 that will make it as fine as can be." 
 
 To these allurements Flint adds a list of the 
 neighbours who are to enliven them when they 
 require a little stimulus. " The Widow Kil- 
 derkin, who keeps the ' Adam and Eve ' at 
 the end of the town, quite an agreeable body, 
 — indeed, the death of her husband has driven 
 her to tipple a bit ; Farmer Dobbins's daugh- 
 ters ; and Dr. Surplice, the curate, and wife, 
 a vast conversable woman if she wasn't alto- 
 gether so deaf." 
 
 Now, although most assuredly no two ani-
 
 132 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 mals of the same species could be so different in 
 genus as Flint and the elegant Colonel Morti- 
 mer, the inducements which the graceful rout 
 was iiolding out to Helen, as to Sadgrove, 
 were, with all her professed love of rurality, 
 not much more congenial with her taste than 
 those which Foote''s admirable miser suggested 
 to the celebrated Maid of Bath. 
 
 Mortimer's thoughts had been driven into a 
 new channel by the observations of Helen, and 
 in a moment a new prospect opened to his view. 
 This vaunted retirement of Sadg-rove — what 
 would it be? — in point of fact, no retirement 
 at all. Sadgrove was no apt or fitting theatre 
 whereupon to enact the drama of his reformed 
 life : within a few miles of Worcester, one of the 
 gayest and handsomest cities in the empire ; in 
 the midst of thickly-studded country houses, 
 with Malvern at hand, and a thousand rural 
 gaieties surrounding, his system of seclusion 
 and reform was little likely to be carried into 
 effect. 
 
 "What then.?" thought he. "Helen has 
 gone the round of London society for three or
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 133 
 
 four seasons ; if she still retain her taste for 
 
 the amusements incidental to a country life in 
 
 our station, why should she not enjoy them ? 
 
 To me the very difference of our position at 
 
 Sadgrove to that in which I was placed by 
 
 circumstances during my last residence there, 
 
 will so far alter the character of the place, 
 
 that the recollections which I so much dread 
 
 will perhaps not haunt me. Helen is right ; 
 
 we ivill be gay, — we will receive and entertain ; 
 
 and whenever we get tired of visitors and wish 
 
 to fall back upon our own resources, we can." 
 
 These anticipations first inspired by Helen's 
 
 artless observation cheered him, and his face 
 
 resumed that expression the absence of which 
 
 Helen had lamented to perceive. 
 
 It is not necessary, in the present stage of 
 Mortimer's association with Helen, to repeat 
 at length or in detail the various conversations 
 in which they indulged with regard to their 
 future plans. Mortimer soon ascertained the 
 extent of her admiration of the country ; and 
 upon the principle which suggested itself on 
 the first evening upon which she had expressed
 
 134 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 her sentiments and opinions that way tending, 
 he resolved to make Sadgrove, in spite of its 
 lugubrious name, everything that was lively 
 and cheerful. 
 
 The time "progressed," as our Trans- Atlan- 
 tic friends have it. The marriage of Morti- 
 mer and Miss Batley was the talk of the world; 
 and paragraphs anticipatory of the splen- 
 dour of the trousseau, and all other matters 
 connected with so distinguished a union, filled 
 the fashionable newspapers. Batley himself 
 seemed to " ride on a whirlwind," and if he 
 did not " direct the storm," anybody, to have 
 seen him, sparkling and chattering in the high- 
 est possible spirits, would have imagined that 
 he himself was on the eve of marrying an heir- 
 ess with a fortune twice as large as that of his 
 future son-in-law. 
 
 Meanwhile Jacob, excluded by command of 
 Mortimer, and therefore decidedly affronted, 
 pulled up iiaughtily, and declared that he 
 never would set foot in Jack^'s house as long as 
 he lived : and it unfortunately having occur- 
 red that his volatile brother was obliged to
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 135 
 
 give him the hint to abstain, the very morning 
 after his tete-a-tete with Colonel Magnus, Jacob, 
 lest his return for Mudbury should be of use 
 to that gentleman, wrote to cry " off" as to 
 his negotiations for the seat, merely because 
 Jack, in pressing upon him his own anxiety to 
 sit, happened to repeat Mortimer's statement 
 with regard to the state of the Colonel's affairs. 
 Hence, in order not to relieve the embarrass- 
 ments of any man who was a friend of Morti- 
 mer's, arose the relinquishment of his personal 
 object ; and hence, of course, resulted his posi- 
 tive refusal to advance one single farthing to 
 advance the views of poor Jack. 
 
 It must be evident that the younger Batley, 
 powerfully acted upon by Mortimer's expressed 
 desire, that the bear should not come to his 
 steak in Grosvenor Street, had sealed his own 
 fate, and that of Helen's, as far as regarded 
 the worthy of Lilypot Lane, by making him 
 understand how very desirable just for the 
 present his absence was. It is true that Jack 
 softened down the harshness of the suggestion, 
 by throwing out hints as to the love of retire-
 
 13G BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 ment and quiet so much desired by two persons 
 on the eve of marriage, and the embarrassment 
 which they felt in the presence of strangers, 
 the various matters they had to arrange and 
 consult about, and concluded his qualifications 
 of the " warn off,"" by assuring him that the 
 exclusion was not personal to him, but that 
 there would be no visitors admitted until the 
 wedding took place. 
 
 " You are quite right, Sir," said Jacob ; — " a 
 brother is seldom considered a stranger, — but 
 no matter, — the day will come, — mark my 
 words, — when you, and the fine young lady 
 whom you have taught to despise me, because 
 you want her to marry a rake without princi- 
 ple or character, may be down on your mar- 
 rowbones begging at my feet: — wait till that 
 day comes, and then you will hear me sav, 
 * When you were gay and great, as you thought, 
 and in prosperity and pride, you drove me 
 from your door — it's my turn now:' and, 
 mark you, brother, don't call me hard-hearted 
 if I do ; for if the thing happens, do it I will." 
 And so went Jacob his way, his brother not
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 137 
 
 quite unmoved at the last appeal : — nay, 
 Jack, although neither awed nor acted upon 
 by Jacob's threat in case of a contingency 
 which as he felt confident never could occur, 
 felt a pang at what had happened, and an 
 anxiety to follow and appease him : " but it 
 would be of no use," said Jack, " it might 
 only irritate him the more, and it were best to 
 let him take his course." 
 
 It might have been better not, — but that 
 time will show. 
 
 Now it was that Jack''s anxiety to secure 
 Mudbury raged with double ardour ; — Morti- 
 mer could not be applied to ; the repulse he 
 had already met with settled that question, 
 and any recurrence to the subject would pro- 
 bably alarm the nice feelings of his proposed 
 son-in-law. Was there no other channel through 
 which he might obtain the means ? This spe- 
 culation engaged all his thoughts, and, as he 
 felt, demanded all his energies. The vacancy 
 would be declared in ten days, and that was 
 but a limited period in which to make any 
 arrangements : for, as Jacob had truly said,
 
 138 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 *' John Batley had been in the money market 
 before," and the advantageous marriage of his 
 daughter seemed to him not unlikely to add to 
 his facilities in again applying to his friends, 
 who had, for considerations equivalent there- 
 unto, previously afforded him that aid which 
 his nearest relation had denied. 
 
 About this period in our history, the happy 
 day was fixed for the celebration of the nup- 
 tials : every preparation was making to render 
 Sadgrove worthy the presence of its future 
 mistress ; the settlements were drawn ; and 
 the fair Helen, with eight hundred pounds per 
 annum as pin-money, and a jointure of two 
 thousand five hundred a year, was accordingly 
 congratulated by her elderly female friends, 
 and proportionably envied by her young ones. 
 Mortimer's kindness and attention were of the 
 tendercst and most assiduous character : the 
 bright prospect of his future happiness had 
 driven away the gloomy reminiscences which, 
 until his heart had been again engaged, and 
 his thoughts devoted to a new and lovely ob- 
 ject, had haunted and distracted his mind. He
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 139 
 
 was an altered man ; the thought that he was 
 loved, really and sincerely loved, raised him in 
 his own estimation, and if happiness be attained 
 in this lower world, Mortimer may be said to 
 have been, at the present juncture, happy. 
 
 The state of nervousness in which Batley 
 existed during this trying period, cannot be 
 described ; his life was, as has already been 
 stated, one continued flurry : but little was 
 either he, or Colonel Magnus, prepared for 
 the course which brother Jacob thought pro- 
 per to pursue. Suffice it to say, that within 
 about six days of the declaration of the vacancy 
 at Mudbury, made by the appointment of the 
 sitting member to an office with which the seat 
 was untenable. Colonel Magnus informed Jack, 
 that his blunt and impracticable brother had 
 gone down to the borough, and was canvassing 
 for himself. The name of the rich Batley 
 worked wonders, and it became pretty evident 
 to Magnus, by the letters which he received 
 from his agent, that Jacob's straightforward 
 principle of buying the votes for himself, 
 instead of trusting to the gallant officer's
 
 140 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 agency, was likely in the most triumphant 
 manner to take Mudbury out of his delicate 
 hands. 
 
 The instant diplomatic John had, in all the 
 confidence of fraternal affection, permitted Jacob 
 to understand, that Magnus was in the first 
 instance to buy, while in the second he was 
 to sell, Jacob said to himself, — if that be the 
 position of affairs, it is quite clear, tenants 
 of the Colonel's or not, in his circumstances, 
 I may as well outbid him in the market at 
 first hand, as give him a premium for his 
 agency. The Colonel wrote strong letters of 
 remonstrance to his dear friends at Mudbury, 
 and declared his intention of bringing down 
 a gentleman of weight, consequence, and no- 
 toriety, to contest the borough against any 
 other candidate who might be proposed. But 
 the independent reformers knew their man : 
 they knew that the Colonel's influence was 
 what they called " moony," produced only by 
 reflected light ; that in point of fact, whatever 
 his nominal extent of property in the neighbour- 
 hood might be, he had no solid claims upon
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 141 
 
 them, and therefore, with long leases in their 
 possession, they prudently resolved, in order 
 to support the purity of election, to rebel 
 against what might be supposed an undue in- 
 fluence, and pocket the cash of Jacob Batley, of 
 whom they had previously known nothing, and 
 had never before heard, in order to evince to 
 the country at large that independence of their 
 immediate superior, which is at once a charac- 
 teristic of the party to which they adhered, 
 and so brilliantly illustrative of that glorious 
 march of intellect in which the British Empire 
 so singularly rejoices.
 
 142 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 It becomes necessary for the better under- 
 standing of our history, that the reader should 
 now be introduced to a personage of whom as 
 yet no mention has been made, but whose cha- 
 racter and conduct may perhaps deserve more 
 of his commendation, than the attributes of 
 certain others of the family party would be 
 likely to command. 
 
 Mrs. Farnham was the sister of Colonel Mor- 
 timer ; she had married young, and for love, 
 but neither imprudently nor without the con- 
 sent and approbation of her parents. Her 
 husband was sufficiently wealthy to enjoy and 
 afford her all the rational comforts of the 
 world, without any of the dazzle and glare of 
 society by which so many young and lively 
 women are fascinated, but which had no charms
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 143 
 
 for Emily Mortimer. Her career as a wife 
 was as happy as she could wish it to be ; but, 
 in less than six years after her union with Mr. 
 Farnham, she became a widow, and had never 
 since the death of her husband returned to 
 England. In the society of an early attached 
 female friend, who like herself had lost an af- 
 fectionate husband, she seemed resolved to pass 
 the remainder of her days on the Continent ; 
 and although childless, the two daughters of 
 her companion had so much engaged her affec- 
 tions, that, in point of fact, they appeared to 
 constitute one family of love. 
 
 When Mortimer's affair with Lady Hilling- 
 don became matter of public notoriety, his sis- 
 ter was absent from England ; and, after the 
 death of her husband, and that of the unfortu- 
 nate partner of her brother's criminality, Mor- 
 timer paid his sister a visit. Then it was he 
 earnestly entreated her to come to England 
 with her friend and her children, and make 
 Sadgrove a home not only for herself and them 
 but for him : but Emily strenuously refused. 
 She, although nearly and dearly connected with
 
 144 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 him, could not bring herself to make those al- 
 lowances for his conduct, which his less sincere 
 but more worldly friends were quite ready to 
 concede ; and his stay at Florence, where she 
 was then residing, was not rendered sufficiently 
 agreeable to him, to induce him much to pro- 
 tract it. He quitted her only to seek, in scenes 
 less beneficial to his mind and morals, an obli- 
 vion which he sought in vain ; and, when he 
 returned to England worn out with hoping 
 for ease and tranquillity, his eyes fell upon the 
 beautiful Helen, and, as we have already seen, 
 he devoted himself to the attainment of hap- 
 piness by an union with youth and innocence. 
 
 It was now his great object to induce his 
 sister to come to England to grace and sanction 
 this second marriage with her presence and 
 countenance ; and he accordingly renewed his 
 entreaties that she would accede to his wish 
 and quit Naples, (whither she had removed,) 
 and greet his lovely Helen as a sister. 
 
 " My dear Francis," wrote Mrs. Farnham 
 in answer to his repeated letters, " forgive me 
 for still adhering to my determination to re-
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 145 
 
 main here until my excellent friend thinks it ne- 
 cessary to take her daughters finally to England. 
 I find the climate agree with me — I dehght in 
 the purity and brightness of an Italian sky — 
 you know how warmly I enter into all matters 
 of art and virtii, and how ample the resources 
 here are for the gratification of a taste which I 
 could nowhere else so well afford to cultivate. 
 
 "If I could imagine that my being present at 
 your marriage would either increase the chance 
 of your future happiness, or give pleasure to 
 your youthful bride, I would gladly make any 
 sacrifice to do as you wish ; but, really and 
 truly, I have grown so unworldly, and, above 
 all, know so little of English manners of the 
 present day, that I think my society would 
 rather gene you and Mrs. Mortimer, (when 
 she is Mrs. Mortimer,) than be agreeable: and 
 as to my remaining with you permanently, I 
 am convinced, by experience acquired from 
 looking at the domestic circles of others, that 
 there must be no divided power in a family, 
 and that the intervention of a mother, or 
 a sister, or an aunt, in the dominion which 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 oufrht alone to belong to the wife as mistress 
 of her house, is invariably destructive of do- 
 mestic happiness. Your picture of the future 
 is bright and delightful ; — God send the reality 
 may be equally so. It has been for years the 
 prayer and wish of my heart to see you reclaim- 
 ed from irregularities which have been induced, 
 1 know, rather by a readiness to give in to the 
 indiscretions of others, than by any inlierent 
 disposition of your own. The opportunity 
 seems, by your own account, now to present 
 itself, and I do fervently hope you will avail 
 yourself of it, and become all I ever wished 
 you to be. 
 
 " Ten years' difference in our ages, Francis, 
 permits me to write gravely, and upon one 
 point I write most earnestly. If Miss Batley 
 be the person you represent her, leave her 
 none of your earlier failings to find out, — be 
 candid, explicit, and honest with her in paint- 
 ing the indiscretions of your youth. So may 
 you expect candour and openness from her. 
 Trust a woman by halves, and you make her 
 doubtful, suspicious, restless, and jealous ; tell
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 147 
 
 her all, and she becomes your friend, your 
 confidential friend, whose faith no temptation 
 will break. 
 
 " If you should bend your steps hitherward, 
 I shall, indeed, be delighted to greet you, and 
 to prove to your wife how cordially I rejoice in 
 calling her sister. Do not, therefore, imagine 
 that my disinclination to do all you wish, arises 
 from any cause but a dislike to returning to 
 England at present. You are fond of Italy — 
 why not come? You will move here as stars 
 of the first magnitude; and I think we can 
 make up a little agreeable society which will de- 
 light your Helen. I have no doubt we shall see 
 you here before many months are over. Pre- 
 sent my warmest congratulations and good 
 wishes to her, and press my invitation with all 
 your wonted eloquence." 
 
 More, much more, did Mrs. Farnham write 
 to her brother, which he read with his usual 
 misffivins and distrust. " No, no," said he to 
 himself, " she has no objection to come to Eng- 
 land — why should she have any ? The objec- 
 tion she has to being present at my marriage 
 
 h2
 
 148 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 arises from her sensitive delicacy, and the re- 
 collection of how I was situated when I last 
 knelt before that altar. Her evasion is trans- 
 parent ; her motives and feelings are evident 
 to me through the thin veil of pretences with 
 which she tries to cover them. She foresees 
 unhappiness in my marriage — at least, she 
 doubts when she speaks of my future comfort, 
 and hopes that my prospects may not be illu- 
 sory. I am not good enough to be honoured 
 with her countenance^ — well! — I could have 
 wished it otherwise — but no matter — so be 
 
 it." 
 
 Mortimer, always alive to his own un wor- 
 thiness, and conscious how obnoxious his cha- 
 racter was to censure from those who knew his 
 history, was seriously annoyed by Mrs. Farn- 
 ham"'s letter ; and such, with all his experience 
 of the world and its ways, was his sensitiveness, 
 that he was unable to rally for hours, some- 
 times for days, from the effect of any sudden 
 shock to his feelings. He had made up his 
 mind to having his sister present at his mar- 
 riage ; he had spoken of her coming to Helen
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 149 
 
 with something like certainty, and had delayed 
 the ceremony expressly for the purpose. He 
 fancied that her refusal, couched even as it was 
 in the kindest terms, would lower him in the 
 esteem of his future wife, and stamp him as a 
 man to be avoided even by his nearest relation 
 on earth. 
 
 The disappointment to his hopes upon this, 
 in point of fact, unimportant subject, preyed 
 upon him so much as to produce a serious ill- 
 ness, not unfrequently the result of those dread- 
 ful struggles which it required to stem the 
 violence of his temper ; and when, after the 
 lapse of five or six days, he was restored to the 
 society of his betrothed, there hung about him 
 a gloom which even Helen herself thought 
 somewhat inappropriate to the season and to 
 the event which was so near at hand. 
 
 While this dull period was passing, Mr. 
 Jacob Batley was labouring in his agreeable 
 task, not only of frustrating his brother's hopes 
 as to Mudbury, but in that of undermining 
 the interest of the gallant Colonel himself. 
 Sharp, shrewd, and active, he had no sooner
 
 150 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 renounced all connexion with Colonel Magnus, 
 whose name, like that of his friend, had been 
 not unfrequently in the money market, than 
 he proceeded to the London banking-house 
 in correspondence with the Mudbury Bank ; 
 and, being on terms of intimacy with one of 
 the partners, commenced a series of enquiries 
 touching the real value of the Colonel's in- 
 fluence, and what sort of people he might expect 
 to have to deal with. The result of which 
 conversation was, a resolution to proceed di- 
 rect to the scene of action, first sending down 
 what is termed a good electioneering attorney, 
 as his agent and councillor, to examine the 
 ground ; and, in order to make a favourable 
 impression in advance as he called it, he paid 
 a considerable sum into the London house on 
 account of their provincial clients, without 
 giving any reason to anybody for so doing: 
 well convinced that the tacit lodgement of a 
 thousand pounds more than he had proposed 
 to " stump," as he called it, to the Colonel, 
 would make a sensation in the place — where 
 it was sure to be spoken of — not calculated to
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 151 
 
 damage his interests when he announced him- 
 self, as he intended to do in a day or two after- 
 wards, as a free and independent candidate 
 come amongst them to rescue them from ty- 
 ranny, oppression, and slavery. 
 
 To further this design, the lawyer whom 
 he had engaged was one whose activity and 
 sharpness were proverbial in the particular line 
 of business for which Jacob had retained him ; 
 and, as in love, horse-dealing, and electioneer- 
 ing, it is held that " all is fair," Mr. Brimmer 
 Brassey, of Barnard's Inn, was considered one 
 of the most desirable acquisitions for a well- 
 disposed active candidate in a contest that 
 could be made. 
 
 Mr. John Batley's efforts to procure the 
 means of facilitating his introduction to the 
 " free and independent" vassals of Colonel Mag- 
 nus were by no means successful, and the day 
 drew near when it was absolutely necessary 
 for him to give a definitive answer to the soi- 
 disaiit patron. The reply, however, became 
 infinitely less important to the Colonel, when 
 his agent at Mudbury wrote him word that a
 
 152 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 gentleman of the name of Brassey was actively 
 canvassing the electors for a candidate to be 
 proposed whenever the vacancy should be de- 
 clared, whose "appliances and means"" were such 
 as already to have prejudiced a decided ma- 
 jority of the electors in favour of the " great 
 unknown." 
 
 However disagreeable this intelligence was to 
 the Colonel, it was by no means a surprise ; the 
 fact being, that the influence which he pro- 
 posed to sell he must first have bought ; his 
 personal weight in the borough ensuring him, 
 under the provisions of the Reform Bill, no- 
 thing more than a priority of purchase. The 
 sound straightforward sense of Jacob Batley 
 hit this point in a moment, and before he had 
 walked half-way down Davies Street with the 
 Colonel, on his way from brother John's to 
 Crockford's, on the night of the bargain, his 
 sharp business-like mind had worked itself 
 through the eloquent sophistry of Magnus, 
 and by the time he reached " The Horn," 
 where, as he anticipated, he took his punch 
 and his cigar, he had come to the conclu-
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 153 
 
 sion that the Mudburyites were a disposable 
 herd, and that he might just as well buy the 
 flock himself in the field as employ a sales- 
 man. To it he went, delighted, as we have 
 already seen, to beat his brother, who had sacri- 
 ficed his fraternal affection to his zeal for his 
 daughter's interests, and to jockey the Colonel, 
 who was the friend of the man upon whose 
 suggestion his brother had so acted. 
 
 Brimmer Brassey was a stirring person, and 
 likely to make hiniself and his principal po- 
 pular amongst the Radicals. He was always 
 over-smartly dressed ; his countenance was flo- 
 rid, edged with much black whisker ; he wore 
 his hat — a silk hat — on one side of his head ; a 
 coloured handkerchief round his neck ; a chain, 
 questionable as to metal, by way of guard to an 
 equivocal watch, over a velvet waistcoat. He 
 was well able to drink punch weak or strong, 
 hot or cold, as the case might be, at any time, 
 and in any quantity ; smoked cigars if desired, 
 and went the whole length of pipes if neces- 
 sary; was upon intimate terms with several of 
 the actors of the minor theatres ; sang songs 
 
 h5
 
 154 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 whicli were not in print ; told anecdotes of men 
 and things which astonished the natives ; had 
 a friend who benevolently lent money to any- 
 body who wanted it, upon the least imagin- 
 able security ; and in fact was the most accom- 
 modating person in his peculiar line of the 
 profession to which he did not do too much 
 honour. At Mudbury, he was all in all; the 
 way he talked, — the way he sang, — the way 
 he dressed, — the way he drank, — and the 
 way he paid, — were the theme of universal ad- 
 miration ; and, if the mere representative of 
 the coming candidate did all this, what would 
 the candidate himself do when he became the 
 representative of them all ? 
 
 When Magnus read his agent's accounts of 
 this unexpected invasion of an enemy, and the 
 evident defection of his friends, who, as parlia- 
 ment may reform parliament but has no power 
 over human nature, were humanly weak enough 
 to prefer performances to pledges, and pence to 
 promises, had, with a /.eal and eagerness known 
 scarcely in any other than a political pursuit, 
 welcomed the stranger, and, as it appeared.
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 155 
 
 most readily " taken him in," he was, as may 
 be imagined, a little " put out." Who the 
 stranger was, he had not yet discovered ; but 
 he was not long in obtaining the information ; 
 and the reader may pretty well ascertain, not 
 only the feelings of the still dangling dabbling 
 John Batley, who could not leave nibbling at 
 the bait, although he felt he had not sufficient 
 strength to bite, but of the Cohmel himself 
 when he found that Jolin's brother, having 
 taken advantage of a knowledge of the carte du 
 pays extracted from, rather than afforded by 
 him, had, having well-paved his way, been an- 
 nounced as a candidate whenever the vacancy 
 was declared. 
 
 Magnus would have made it a personal mat- 
 ter with anybody else, and have called out the 
 man who could so conduct himself; but, besides 
 not wishing to have any such affair with such 
 a person, especially being Helen's uncle, he 
 felt perfectly assured that the opening letter 
 of a correspondence, that way tending, would 
 have been legally and technically replied to by 
 Mr. Brimmer Brassey, whose name had become
 
 156 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 painfully familial- to his ears through the com- 
 munications of his now desponding emissaries 
 at Mudbury. 
 
 To describe our volatile friend John Batley's 
 feelings, when he heard the name of the pro- 
 bably successful candidate, would be difficult. 
 Not only was he agitated and excited by find- 
 ing Jacob thus positively and pointedly op- 
 posed to him, but because he felt perfectly 
 assured, that this decided declaration of hosti- 
 lities was occasioned by his having, at Morti- 
 mer's desire, " shut his doors'" upon him. All 
 the hopes of his life were exploded ; and, in 
 the present practical manifestation, he beheld 
 the total annihilation of the expectancy upon 
 the ulterior realization of which he had been 
 for the last ten or twelve years living. Still 
 Helen was settled — the great care of his life 
 was off his shoulders ; and, come what mie-ht, 
 he should never want for anything so long as 
 the Pension List lasted. 
 
 During the progress towards the completion 
 of the contract between Helen and her way- 
 ward lover, for such he unquestionably was,
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 157 
 
 she felt gradually and day by day less enthu- 
 siasm, and even less hope of perfect happiness 
 with the man of her choice. Now that the 
 doubts and difficulties incidental to a lover's 
 life had subsided into a certainty of securing 
 the object of his affections, it seemed to her as 
 if he already treated her with a sort of autho- 
 ritative superiority which, wuth her natural in- 
 tellect and animated disposition, she was by no 
 means likely to be satisfied with. There was no 
 deference in his manner towards her ; while it 
 was but too evident that he expected an agree- 
 ment on her part in all his suggestions, and, 
 in fact, something like implicit obedience to his 
 dictations. Since his recovery from his illness, 
 he seemed to have become watchful of her looks, 
 and even of her smiles ; and betrayed a rest- 
 lessness of manner, which she had never before 
 observed, if she lingered for a moment be- 
 hind in conversation with even the old chape- 
 rons to whom she had been so long entrusted. 
 Nay, when Captain Stopper, with whom the 
 reader may recollect Helen thought fit to act 
 a little scene in the boudoir the day Mortimer
 
 J 58 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 returned, presuming, naturally enough, upon 
 her extreme good-nature upon that occasion, 
 and the interest she appeared to take in his 
 proceedings for the evening, spoke to her at 
 the door of Howell and James's, as she was 
 quitting the shop, Mortimer hastily and sud- 
 denly withdrew her from the tile-d-tete, and 
 exclaiming in no sweet tone " Come, Helen, we 
 are keeping other people from getting up ! " 
 handed her, not too gently, into the carriage ; 
 having done which, he walked away, without 
 too kindly taking his leave, till dinner-time. 
 
 "Dear Lady Bembridge," said Helen, " what 
 is the matter with Francis? — surely something 
 must have happened to put him out of temper. 
 Perhaps his late indisposition has left some 
 little irritability in his constitution. Did you 
 see how cross he looked, and how harsh his 
 manner to me was ?" 
 
 " There arc things," said Lady Bembridge, 
 " which are never seen or felt except by the 
 person who is particularly interested in the 
 conduct and manner of the other person of 
 two. It is quite impossible to form an opinion
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 159 
 
 of the conduct of any existing being without 
 being previously aware of his motives to ac- 
 tion : — if indeed a young lady engaged to one 
 man does think fit to bestow an encouraging 
 
 smile upon another " 
 
 " What other, Lady Bembridge ? " said 
 Helen. 
 
 " My dearest, I meant no personal allusion 
 to anybody in the world," said her ladyship ; 
 " I only meant generally to observe, that as 
 lovers' love cannot exist without a due propor- 
 tion of jealousy, anything like marked civility 
 to a remarkably good-looking captain in the 
 Guards might perhaps induce the intended 
 husband of the young lady, being, as it should 
 happen, by a few years the senior of the cap- 
 tain, to ruffle the serenity of a temper not 
 naturally too serene at the best of times." 
 
 " Am I to understand," said Helen, " that 
 my speaking to that silliest of all simpletons 
 Captain Stopper, merely to answer a common- 
 place question, is to put Colonel Mortimer 
 out of humour .'''" 
 
 " Dear Helen," said Lady Bembridge, " who
 
 160 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 mentioned those names? I was merely sup- 
 posing a case by way of accounting for a 
 strange brusquerie which might somehow be 
 conjured up." 
 
 Helen felt herself colour deeply, and rejoiced 
 rather that the rapid pace at which she and her 
 companion were driven hindered her chaperon 
 from fixing her penetrating eyes upon her 
 countenance, the flush of which, she was con- 
 scious, was followed by a sort of shudder which 
 she could not control A world of thoughts 
 rushed into her mind. It seemed that Mor- 
 timer felt it no longer necessary to gild over 
 the weaknesses of his character, and that even 
 before marriage he began to display a restless- 
 ness not very dissimilar from jealousy of his 
 young intended wife. Helen gave her head a 
 toss unconsciously, and said something to herself 
 which it was quite as well nobody heard: — had 
 the words reached Mortimer's ears, the chances 
 are that their marriage, even near at hand as 
 it was, would never have taken place. 
 
 Helen was, as Mortimer told her father he 
 knew she was, noble-minded, generous-hearted.
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 161 
 
 and good, — purely and integrally good : no 
 one who could have read her inmost heart, and 
 have reviewed her most secret thoughts, would 
 have questioned or doubted it for a moment: 
 but she was high-spirited, and when conscious 
 that she was right, fully prepared to act upon 
 that consciousness, and treat with indignation 
 and contempt the slightest suspicion cast upon 
 her truth and sincerity. As she herself has 
 said, her great fault was her candour, — her 
 want of caution in the use of words, — what she 
 thought, she spoke : so that however much 
 she might have prej udiced some people against 
 her, by such a course of conduct, nobody 
 could charge her with deception or dissimu- 
 lation. That she accused herself of a want of 
 decision in the case of Lord Ellesmere, and 
 attributed to herself a mode of proceeding 
 not altogether reconcilable with the principles 
 upon which she had always acted, merely 
 proved how quick she was to perceive her own 
 failings, and how ready to acknowledge them 
 when discovered. The truth is, and it may be 
 summed up in a few words, — Helen might be
 
 162 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 led, but Helen was not to be driven : trust 
 her, and she was fidelity itself ; suspect her, 
 and her pride predominated over every other 
 feelingr. 
 
 On the day in question, the dinner in Gros- 
 venor Street was not what the domestic din- 
 ners there generally were. Mortimer conti- 
 nued gloomy ; Helen remained reserved ; Bat- 
 ley was out of spirits about Mudbury ; Lady 
 Bembridge was out of sorts about nothing; 
 and, notwithstanding all this, the wedding was 
 fixed for the following Friday.
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 163 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 " That connexion of yours," said Colonel 
 Magnus to Mortimer, " has played the very 
 deuce with me at Mudbury: I am completely 
 undermined and blown up." 
 
 " Connexion of mine !" said Mortimer ; " do 
 me the kindness to permit the fact, that he is 
 the uncle of my future wife, and bears her 
 present name, to die and be lost in oblivion." 
 
 " Jack," said Magnus, " he has contrived 
 to make good his footing where I felt myself 
 quite secure ; and, as I am at this time advised, 
 has reduced his return to a certainty." 
 
 " Did you not," said Mortimer, " reckon 
 somewhat too securely upon your influence ?" 
 
 " Influence !" said the Colonel — " you know 
 the fact — you know how I stood : I had the 
 electors in hand, but I could not come to their
 
 164- BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 terms impromptu. It was, I confess, complete- 
 ly out of my calculation that this fellow should 
 work his way into my labyrinth by dint of the 
 clue I gave him myself, and actually supersede 
 me on my own ground." 
 
 " Never mind," said Mortimer ; " let him 
 get into the House of Commons, or any other 
 house, save mine ; and the trifling mortification 
 of being foiled at Mudbury will be admirably 
 outbalanced by reading of his absurdities in 
 Parliament, if his impudence should ever really 
 be adequate to the making a speech." 
 
 "As for Mudbury," said Magnus, "of course 
 to me, having so small a part of my property in 
 its neighbourhood, I care nothing about losing 
 it ; in fact, it is hardly worth the trouble of 
 keeping; but having actually come to an un- 
 derstanding with the ' free and independent 
 electors*' for fifteen pounds a head, (the Reform 
 price of the Buckinghamshire borough I told 
 you of,) and upon which tariff I had ground- 
 ed the bargain, it is deucedly hard, after the 
 fellow's having promised four thousand, which 
 would just have put about twelve hundred
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 165 
 
 pounds clear into my pocket, and have given 
 me the eclat of patronage, to find him not 
 only trading on his own bottom, but spoiling 
 the market by giving the " great unwashed " 
 nearly twice as much as they had consented to 
 take from me. However, we will get up a 
 petition if he is returned, and if we can prove 
 a case or two against him, let him look out." 
 
 " Ah ! Magnus," said Mortimer, " would I 
 could interest myself in such matters. I al- 
 most regret that I hadn't turned politician, 
 and endeavoured to employ my mind in some 
 engrossing pursuit, — something that might 
 have kept from my memory thoughts of other 
 days." 
 
 *' Frank," said the Colonel, " your mind 
 should be stored with thoughts of other days, 
 — not of days that are gone, but of those 
 bright days that are to come. As for memory, 
 take a sponge — out with all the records. 
 Look forward, man ! — you are about to marry 
 one of the loveliest girls in London, and are, 
 consequently, an object of universal envy."" 
 
 " Envy !" said Mortimer, " do they envy
 
 16G BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 me the possession of Helen ? Ay, ay, there 
 it is: — that envy will change its character. 
 Helen — well — well, well — the die is cast, and 
 we must hope for the best. I wish now — but 
 it is too late — that we had arranged so as 
 not to go to Sadgrove immediately after our 
 
 marriage." 
 
 « 'Gad, I don't see why, Frank," said Mag- 
 nus : " what can be more lovely, — what more 
 bright, more verdant, or more gay ? I should 
 say it was of all places in the world the best 
 adapted for the scene of a honey-moon." 
 
 " True," said Mortimer, " it is gay and 
 bright and green. All the charms of Nature 
 combine to make it delightful — but — Amelia 
 lived there — died there! I dread visitinfj it 
 with Helen for the first time since her death." 
 
 " Come, come," said Magnus, " you must 
 get over this ; recollect how intimately I am 
 acquainted with all the facts of that case. Your 
 false delicacy, for so I must call it upon this 
 occasion, is much on a par with the sensibility 
 of a sentimental lady, who having lived with 
 her husband what they call a cat-and-dog life,
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 167 
 
 when she becomes a widow, and the worthy 
 gentleman is six feet under ground, begins to 
 weep and wail and look back upon her past 
 existence as something exquisitely delightful, 
 and talks with enthusiastic veneration of the 
 man whom, when alive, she quarrelled with 
 every day of her existence, laughed at, ridi- 
 culed, and even" 
 
 " Stop, stop," said Mortimer, " the cases are 
 not parallel." 
 
 " They are so far parallel, Frank," said 
 Magnus, " that no man on this earth could 
 have behaved better or more honourably, more 
 gallantly, more generously, than you did in 
 that unfortunate affair of your comparative 
 youth. It is quite true that Lady Hillingdon 
 died at Sadgrove, but everybody must die 
 
 somewhere, and " 
 
 « My dear friend," said Mortimer again in- 
 terrupting him, " I cannot, intimate as we 
 have been for so many years, inspire you with 
 one particle of my feeling upon such subjects. 
 It is all useless to say why, or why not, I am 
 affected by returning to Sadgrove ; the senti-
 
 168 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 ment is, I dare say, undefinable : — so it is — 
 so let it be : but, problematical as the whole 
 history is, I am miserable in my happiness." 
 
 Magnus, who (for often do friendships arise 
 and subsist between men, apparently from a 
 love of opposition of temper and character) 
 could not in the slightest degree assimilate 
 with Mortimer on certain points — he who, 
 with his iron nerves and immovable coun- 
 tenance, went straightforward through what- 
 ever he undertook with a resolution not to be 
 daunted by circumstances, and a firmness which 
 no minor consideration could shake, was per- 
 fectly at a loss to comprehend why the recol- 
 lection of Lady Hillingdon, so intimately asso- 
 ciated with Sadgrove, should, now that she 
 was dead and gone, at all interfere with the 
 enjoyment of new pleasures and new pursuits 
 there, the locale being quite as agreeable as it 
 was during her life-time, and affording, by the 
 change of circumstances, every prospect of in- 
 creased gaiety and cheerfulness. 
 
 " My dear fellow," continued Magnus, " if 
 your principle were to be acted upon, there is
 
 AND MARRIAGES. If 9 
 
 not an heir in the empire who would rejoice in 
 the death of his parent. The whole of our 
 nobility, our monarchs themselves, are only 
 tenants for life ; and, if this repugnance to oc- 
 cupy the castles and palaces of their departed 
 predecessors were to affect their minds, we 
 should have all the chateaux and mansions in 
 the empire shut up or converted into Work- 
 houses or County Hospitals. The highest dig- 
 nities of the nation, like the foggy sovereignty 
 of the City of London, are all transferable. 
 My Lord INIayor Sniggs on the ninth of No- 
 vember steps into the state coach, out of which 
 My Lord Mayor Figgs stepped on the eighth, 
 and finds himself bowed to by all the same 
 people, sword-bearer, mace-bearer, train-bearer, 
 liveried lacqueys, "postilion and all," who four 
 and twenty hours before kootooed to the then 
 Lord Mayor; — the reign there is certainly short, 
 but certain. Li loftier circles the same things 
 happen, and the same unconscious coach and 
 horses, driven by the same coachman, and 
 swarmed upon by hanging clusters of the same 
 gilded footmenj draw through the thronged 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 no BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 Streets to-day, amidst the shouts and cheers of 
 the people, the Monarch who succeeds to him 
 that "died but yesterday,"" and who in one week 
 finds himself precisely in the place of the one 
 "just gone before," inhabiting the same rooms, 
 attended by the same servants, eating off the 
 same plate, drinking the well-stored wine from 
 the same cellar, and hearing the same strains of 
 music which so recently another loved to listen 
 to ; dispensing honours which erst flowed from 
 other hands, and receiving the sweet adula- 
 tion which so shortly previous had greeted 
 other ears. If recollections like yours were to 
 
 interfere with this " 
 
 " Aye, aye," interrupted Mortimer again, 
 " all that is different ; succeeding to the estates 
 and houses of one's ancestors is quite another 
 affair ; custom makes that nothing ; no more 
 than a man's sitting in his church under his 
 father's monument, and over his grave, with 
 the full conviction that, when the time comes, 
 his bones are to moulder beneath the crimson 
 cushion on which he slumbers out the sermon. 
 Sadgrove is different. It was to Sadgrove
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 171 
 
 Amelia first came to me from her home. Soli- 
 tary as was our after-life, she was the star that 
 brightened its gloom. Charles," said INIorti- 
 mer, with a tremulous agitation which startled 
 his friend, " she lies buried there, — how can I 
 bear to visit it with Helen? — poor girl, poor 
 girl ! — with such feelings ought I to marry 
 her?" 
 
 " This is a burst of passion," said Magnus, 
 " for which I confess I was not altogether pre- 
 pared, Frank. If your feelings are really so 
 strong upon this point, if I were you, I should 
 most certainly not go to Sadgrove ; — why not 
 go down to my place, — stay Mere, — I will put 
 everything en train this very day." 
 
 " No," said INIortimer, " thanks, thanks ! 
 but no, I must live in my own house sooner or 
 later, and I will make the plunge at once, — 
 gaiety shall be my resource, — my plan of re- 
 tirement, as I have before foreseen, must be 
 relinquished, and I will endeavour to destroy 
 all the recollections I (;lread, by making Sad- 
 grove as unlike what it was in other days as 
 possible." 
 
 I 2
 
 172 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 Those who read this evidence of the un- 
 settled state of IMortimer's mind, the recollec- 
 tions with which it was teeming, the mingled 
 repentance of his past faults with the lingering 
 regrets for her who was the sharer of them, the 
 doubts by which he was agitated, and the fears 
 by which he was assailed, cannot shut their 
 eyes to the difficulties of Helen's position — dif- 
 ficulties of which she herself was wholly uncon- 
 scious. To those who could have known the 
 real truth it must have been evident, that her 
 career as Mortimer's wife would be little else 
 than a struggle between certain imhappiness 
 and the uncertain experiment of reclaiming a 
 man of the world, not only from its present at- 
 tractions but from the memory of the past. 
 
 That Batley was altogether blind to the dif- 
 ficulties of the case is not to be believed. Bat- 
 ley had been much in the habit of associating 
 with Mortimer when Mortimer was younger, 
 and Batley was not older than INIortimer was 
 at the time of his offer to Helen. Their inter- 
 course had been that which, as society goes, 
 was the intercourse of men of the same time of
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 173 
 
 life. Frank Mortimer at seven and twenty, 
 and Jack Batley at seven and thirty, were, in 
 common acceptation, contemporaries; and in 
 their various associations, long before any 
 idea existed, on the part of either, that a 
 nearer tie would bind them. Jack had seen 
 enough of the character, and knew enough of 
 the opinions and sentiments of his friend, to 
 have questioned, had such a thought come 
 into his head, his qualifications as a quiet do- 
 mestic husband. 
 
 It was after the period of Jack's greatest 
 intimacy with him, that the affair with Lady 
 Hillingdon occurred ; a circumstance not parti- 
 cularly well calculated to increase an admira- 
 tion for his morals, although, in point of fact, 
 the view which his friend Colonel Magnus took 
 of the case was that which was generally re- 
 ceived. During the life of Lady Hillingdon 
 Mortimer was out of the world ; on her death 
 he launched into all sorts of excesses on the 
 Continent, until, palled with various devices 
 to which he had recourse in order to dissipate 
 his grief for her loss, he returned home thirst-
 
 174 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 ing for ease and retirement, and the sober com- 
 forts of a quiet life; his near approach to 
 which rekindled the memory of those which 
 he had enjoyed before, and created for him, in 
 the confusion of his feelings, something nearly 
 bordering upon misery in the midst of his 
 happiness. 
 
 And in this mood he was destined to lead 
 the beautiful Helen to the altar on the follow- 
 ing Friday fortnight. 
 
 As to the change in his determination with re- 
 gard to his " manner of life" in Worcestershire, 
 it is but fair to state, that he was first induced 
 to think doubtingly of the seclusive system by 
 the manner in which Helen had received the 
 programme of their proceedings in the country, 
 with which, as the reader will recollect, he had 
 a few evenings before favoured her. His an- 
 nouncement of the alteration of his plans was 
 received by the young lady in a very different 
 way. When he talked of balls, and fetes, and 
 parties, her bright eyes sparkled, and she felt 
 gayer than she had for some time, not more 
 on account of the prospect which opened to
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 175 
 
 her view, than because Mortimer himself seemed 
 gayer tlian it had recently been his wont. 
 
 Looking at the state of society, abstractedly, 
 all this reminds us very much of the story of 
 the old gentleman and the young lady, which, 
 on account of its prolixity, it is impossible to 
 repeat. Its pleasures and amusements are but 
 " the same thing over again," and nothing can 
 be more unquestionably true than that, in a 
 certain sphere of life, one party, one ball, one 
 anything, is the alpha and omega of all ; and 
 what makes this monotony the more obvious is 
 the fact that, since politics have asserted their 
 influence over society, the nature of the amuse- 
 ment, whatever it may be, is not only unva- 
 ried, but the characters of the drama are un- 
 changed. It is true that some, in the high- 
 er grade of political life, who having either 
 retired from the arena, or grown wiser as 
 they grew older, mingle, together, with their 
 families, in the coteries of those ladies who, 
 most honourably clinging to the politics of 
 their husbands, maintain principles of a dia- 
 metrically opposite character; but, generally
 
 176 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 speaking, during the season it is only the scene 
 of gaiety which is changed, the actors are the 
 same ; and even if the performances happen to 
 be occasionally enlivened by the introduction 
 of three or four new personages, they are so 
 little diversified by the accession as to exhibit 
 no remarkable change upon the surface. 
 
 The anticipation, therefore, of mixing with 
 an entirely new community — of being herself 
 a brilliant novelty to a fresh crowd of admirers, 
 was exciting, and, to use her own phrase, 
 " charming." 
 
 " That ^vill be delightful," said Helen, with 
 all her native frankness ; "" tired to death of 
 the same faces, night after night worried be- 
 yond endurance with the same nonsense, talked 
 to by the same people, it will be ' charming' to 
 get into a new sphere ; and even if the change 
 be not for the better in a worldly sense, it will 
 be a change, and that is something." 
 
 " The change," said Mortimer, " will not 
 be so marked as you seem to expect. Several 
 of our neighbours in the country are friends 
 of yours in town : it is true that there are some
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 177 
 
 eight or ten families who seldom come to Lon- 
 don, or mingle in its gaiety ; but to those I 
 am afraid you will not be disposed to devote 
 your time and attention." 
 
 " Well, then, dear Francis," said Helen, 
 " they will serve us to laugh at, at any rate." 
 
 " Why," said Mortimer, " not exactly that. 
 They are people of rank, station, and consider- 
 ation ; looked up to and loved by their tenants 
 and dependants; and, although their names 
 do not figure frequently in those oracles of 
 fashion, the ' Morning Post," or the ' Court 
 Journal,' they do not think so little of them- 
 selves as you seemed disposed to think of 
 them." 
 
 " Oh!"' said Helen, " if they are stiff, 
 starchy people, that will soon wear off. Do 
 these ' natives' come much to Sadgrove ?"" 
 
 " When they are invited," said Mortimer, 
 looking rather confused, " by so kind a hostess 
 as you will, I am certain, prove, they will, no 
 doubt, be too happy to accept the invitation." 
 
 To this little complimentary speech Morti- 
 mer added, in an under tone, something which 
 
 1 5
 
 178 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 had no defined meaning, but which he mut- 
 tered to himself for the purpose of mystifying 
 the end of his answer, and getting rid of the 
 subject ; Sadgrove, during his residence there, 
 not having been a place to which, what Miss 
 Helen Batley was pleased to call " stiff starchy 
 people," were particularly likely to go. To 
 the infliction of such questions and remarks, 
 the " gallant gay Lothario" felt he must make 
 up his mind, and the only consolation which 
 he permitted himself, under the circumstances, 
 was, that they were proofs either of Helen's in- 
 nocence of the ways of the world, or ignorance 
 of the worst points of his particular case. 
 
 " Oh, rely upon it," said Helen, " I will do 
 the honours entirely to your satisfaction ; and, 
 as for popularity, you will see that we shall be 
 the most popular people in the county." 
 
 " It depends entirely on yourself, Helen," 
 said Mortimer ; " they are not in the habit of 
 often seeing such a person as you are. All 
 you have to guard against is a disposition to 
 ridicule the peculiarities which, to a mind like 
 yours, offer, I admit, some strong temptations.
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 179 
 
 However, I shall not point out their oddities, 
 but leave you to discover them, trusting to 
 your caution after you have enlightened your- 
 self." 
 
 Whether Mortimer would have given Helen 
 a catalogue raisonrie of his country neighbours, 
 or not, it is impossible to say ; for their con- 
 versation was interrupted by the arrival of Mr. 
 John Batley with the intelligence that the 
 member for Mudbury was that day gazetted 
 for the foreign appointment which vacated his 
 seat, and that a new writ had been moved for 
 in the House ; and this information he gave 
 Mortimer, still in the hopes of something like 
 encouragement, even at the eleventh hour, to 
 start, and make an effort upon Magnus's in- 
 terest. 
 
 The Colonel had left town for his place near 
 this independent borough, a.nd,faufe de mieux., 
 resolved upon opposing Jacob Batley, him- 
 self; not with any hope of defeating him, but 
 for the special purpose of running him to all 
 the possible expense which a contest might in- 
 volve. But, when he reached the scene of
 
 180 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 action, no Mr. Jacob Batley was there ; he 
 
 had quitted the field ; but, nevertheless, the 
 
 canvassings of the gallant Colonel were by no 
 
 means successful ; even they of the deputation 
 
 who 
 
 " Swarming like loaclies. 
 
 Had made their approaches 
 
 In ten hackney-coaches,"' 
 
 to solicit hiin to represent them in Parliament, 
 bowed coldly, and kept aloof in a manner suf- 
 ficiently marked to convince the Colonel that 
 his fate was sealed. As soon as the writ was 
 sent down to the sheriff, the walls in and about 
 Mudbury were covered with placards announ- 
 cing to the free and independent electors that 
 a candidate of truly constitutional principles 
 would offer hiniself on the day of nomination, 
 and entreating them to make no promises. 
 
 These placards were imported from London 
 by Mr. Brimmer Brassey himself, who arrived 
 at " The Royal Oak" late in the evening, and 
 forthwith summoned his friend the native at- 
 torney, and the select few who were aware of 
 the course of proceedings, in order to organize 
 the plan of attack. Colonel Magnus announced
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 181 
 
 his intention of coming forward without fail ; 
 and the inhabitants of the pure and patriotic 
 borough were in raptures at the thought of 
 the contest. 
 
 The Blues, however, secret as were their 
 machinations, and cautious as their proceed- 
 ings, could not baffle the activity of the Colo- 
 nePs agent. It was clear that the majority- 
 was safe, bought at so much per head ; but, it 
 was also clear, that Jacob Batley was not the 
 man to represent the borough. Who the can- 
 didate would be, was still a profound mystery ; 
 and all that could be extracted from Mr. Brim- 
 mer Brassey, when questioned either in joke or 
 earnest as to whom the gentleman might be, was 
 — "You'll see — I say nothing — you'll find 
 I'm right— rank, character, and money, — that's 
 the thing gentlemen; — next Tuesday will en- 
 lighten you all — till then — I don't let the cat 
 out of the bas :" — a bit of smartness, on the 
 part of Mr. Brassey, which entailed upon the 
 highly respectable individual who actually did 
 come forward, the sobriquet of " Tommy," 
 which he never lost ; it being applied to him
 
 182 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 by the electioneering wags of the place, as a 
 suitable appellation for Mr. Brassey's cat which 
 was not to be let out of the bag till the day of 
 nomination. 
 
 The day of nomination did come, but with 
 it no INIr. Jacob Batley. The Town Hall 
 was thronged. Colonel Magnus made his ap- 
 pearance, and was loudly cheered, a circum- 
 stance which did not produce the slightest 
 perceptible change in the expression of his fine 
 countenance. Conscious that his friends had 
 been bought, and certain of defeat, these mani- 
 festations of approbation sounded most dis- 
 cordantly ; but, if he had been torn with burn- 
 ing pincers, or subjected to any other of the 
 pious inflictions of the Holy Inquisition, not 
 a muscle would have moved, not a cry would 
 have escaped him. 
 
 The business of the day having been opened, 
 a call for the candidates was raised, and Colo- 
 nel Magnus stepped forward and addressed 
 the assembled throng in a short speech, which 
 was attentively heard, and loudly cheered at its 
 conclusion : whereupon Mr. Stambury of Balls-
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 183 
 
 mere proposed, and Dr. Bulch of the High 
 Street seconded, Colonel Magnus " as a fit and 
 proper person to represent the independent 
 borough of Mudbury." 
 
 When the equivocal noises which this an- 
 nouncement excited had in some degree sub- 
 sided, Mr. Hogthorpe of Cackley rose and ad- 
 dressed the electors. Every period of his ad- 
 dress was received with enthusiasm ; every 
 pause was filled up with cheering ; and a tre- 
 mendous shout of ecstasy rang through the 
 Hall when, in conclusion, the honourable gen- 
 tleman proposed Sir Christopher Hickathrift, 
 Baronet, of Tipperton Lodge, as a candidate 
 for their suffrages. This proposition being se- 
 conded, Sir Christopher, who had been sitting 
 by the side of Mr. Brassey, rose up, and was, as 
 the reader, after what he has heard, may natu- 
 rally expect, saluted not only with loud cries of 
 " Tom, Tom," — " Puss, Puss," and such-like 
 familiarities, but with some abominable imi- 
 tations of the different noises in which cats in 
 general delight, under the varied circumstances 
 of their manifold lives.
 
 181 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 Sir Christopher Hickathrift bore this per- 
 secution from the yet faithful friends of his 
 ill-used opponent with infinite good-humour, 
 although, as he confessed himself perfectly 
 ignorant of the cause of the vocal performance 
 with which he found himself greeted, he ab- 
 breviated his scarcely audible address, and 
 when, after he had finished and the names of 
 the candidates were proposed to the assembly, 
 the show of hands was declared to be immense- 
 ly in his favour. 
 
 Now came the Colonel's turn to be mag-na- 
 nimous : up he rose, and stated to the meeting 
 that his object in presenting himself to them, 
 and in permitting himself to be proposed as a 
 candidate for their suffrages, was, to preserve 
 the borough from being mis-represented by an 
 individual whose name had been very freely 
 mentioned as intending to offer himself to their 
 notice that day. To avert that, which he could 
 not but consider a calamity to the borough, 
 he was ready to make every personal sacri- 
 fice. He need not disguise from gentlemen, so 
 many of whom were aware of the fact, that
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 185 
 
 neither his health nor his pursuits were of a 
 nature to render a seat in Parliament desir- 
 able. It was on their account, and with a 
 deep regard for their interests, which he never 
 could cease to feel, that lie had come forward ; 
 and he would have persevered to the last vote 
 on the register in fighting their battle. — (Ijoud 
 cheers.) As it was, the case was entirely dif- 
 ferent — (cheers and me wings) : — a most honour- 
 able and respectable gentleman of their own 
 county had been proposed to them, — (more 
 cheering and moi'e mewing,) — and feeling 
 assured that their interests could not be placed 
 in better hands, he begged leave most respect- 
 fully to decline any further opposition to the 
 honourable baronet's return, and to withdraw 
 from the contest, begging, in retiring, to return 
 his heartfelt acknowledgments to those gentle- 
 men who had done him the honour to support 
 him on the occasion. 
 
 After this came chaos, and after chaos the 
 chairing of Sir Christopher Hickathrift, a cere- 
 mony which was rendered the more interesting 
 by being performed during one of the heaviest
 
 186 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 storms of wind and rain that had been known 
 in those parts for fifty years. 
 
 It is riffht that the reader should be inform- 
 ed how it came to pass that this triumph was 
 decreed to lawyer Brassey's cat instead of Jacob 
 Batley, although it is probable he guesseth at it 
 already. Sir Christopher had long been looking 
 wistfully at the seat, but a want of resolution 
 on his part had left it out of his reach. The 
 promptitude and liberality, as it was called, 
 of Jacob, startled the waverers, and when Sir 
 Christopher's man of business in Mudbury as- 
 certained from Mr. Brimmer Brassey the real 
 state of the case as far as his influence went, 
 he next proceeded to find out whether the man 
 who possessed that new and pure influence was 
 particularly anxious to sit for the borough him- 
 self. Jacob certainly did wish to sit, but that 
 was not his main object ; it was to defeat others 
 that he was labouring ; and as the electors 
 could by no possibility entertain any personal 
 regard for Jacob, and as Jacob felt no personal 
 regard for anybody on the face of the earth, 
 a hint conveyed from Sir Christopher's attor-
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 187 
 
 ney, through Brassey, that he might put four 
 or five hundred pounds into his pocket by 
 transferring his newly-bought friends to him, 
 had its effect. Sir Christopher's lawyer and 
 Brassey settled the arrangement, and Jacob, 
 instead of being carried about the streets, and 
 made to give a splendid entertainment at " The 
 Royal Oak," in addition to all other charges 
 and expenses thereunto incidental, gladly pock- 
 eted somewhere about four hundred and seven- 
 ty pounds by the bargain, and on the day of 
 the election dined alone at his favourite tavern, 
 '' The Horn," and finished his bottle of port pre- 
 vious to the imbibition of his accustomed glass 
 of hot punch, chuckling with satisfaction at hav- 
 ing defeated Mr. Mortimer's particular friend 
 at a rate so extremely advantageous to himself. 
 On the Friday following this return, Gros- 
 venor Street was enlivened by the appearance 
 of various carriages at or about the door of the 
 residence of John Batley, Esq., whence Francis 
 Mortimer was to lead the blushing Helen to 
 the altar in — it need not be mentioned — the 
 church of St. George's, Hanover Square. The
 
 188 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 proceedings upon such occasions, being always 
 very similar, have been too often described to 
 need a line of explanation here : — the same 
 tears, the same lace-veils, the same dejeuner^ the 
 same dressing for church and undressing for 
 the journey, the same congratulations, the same 
 elegant travelling carriage, — all, all over again 
 for the ten thousandth time. On this impor- 
 tant day, Mortimer received from the hands 
 of his father-in-law the treasure which he had, 
 amidst a thousand conflicting feelings, won, 
 and from which was to be derived his future 
 stock of earthly happiness. Some of his pre- 
 vailing gloomy doubts and recollections flitted 
 across his mind as he knelt before the clergy- 
 man who performed the ceremony, nor was the 
 last occasion upon which he had plighted his 
 faith to one who had broken her''s, absent from 
 his memory; but these were 
 
 " Too slight alloys for all tliose grand 
 Felicities by marriage gained, 
 For noUiing else has power to settle 
 The interests of Love perpetual : 
 An act and deed tliat makes one heart 
 Become another's counter-part,
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 189 
 
 And passes fines on Faith and Love 
 IiiroU'd and register'd above, 
 To seal the slippery knot of vows 
 Which nothing else but death can loose." 
 
 As far as Mortimer was concerned, the last 
 line was not altogether applicable. However, 
 married he was, and the party at the break- 
 fast was gay and numerous ; Mr. Jacob Batley 
 was of course not one of it, at the which 
 John Batley was much vexed, and Helen, who, 
 repulsive as were her uncle's manners, could 
 not forget their relationship, was greatly pain- 
 ed ; but his exclusion was a condition of Mor- 
 timer's, and so, excluded he was. Colonel 
 Magnus was, of course, a guest, and perform- 
 ed his part in the play with all becoming 
 dignity: he spoke but little, but what he did 
 say was emphatic and solemn. 
 
 When the travelling carriage was driven up 
 to the door, Mortimer beckoned Magnus to 
 the back drawing-room. 
 
 " Well,"' said he, " you haven't enquired 
 where we are going ; and as you only arrived 
 last night, perhaps you won't guess."
 
 190 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 " Going !" Scaid the Colonel, " I conclude to 
 Sadgrove." 
 
 " No," said Mortimer, <' I found it would 
 not do : I couldn't bear it. We are eoins: to 
 Paris for a month or six weeks." 
 
 " Then," said Magnus, " I know exactly 
 how that will end : you will go on to Florence 
 or Naples, wherever your sister is, and not 
 return for months." 
 
 " On the contrary," said Mortimer ; " I am 
 not in such good-humour with my sister, for 
 refusing to come to we, as to think of going to 
 her. If she had done as I entreated her, and 
 come over to this country with her friend and 
 her family, she would have been here now; 
 she would have changed the whole character 
 of Sadgrove ; she and those whom she loves 
 would have made a little domestic circle of our 
 own, and with her principles and character she 
 would have made an adnn"rable companion for 
 Helen, who, strange to say, is not quite spoiled 
 by the world's adulation, but who still requires 
 a woman of strong mind and correct views 
 to regulate her conduct. My sister Jane is
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 191 
 
 that woman : — but no — she recoils from me — 
 she despises me. I am unworthy of her ; of 
 that she has succeeded in making me conscious: 
 further I do not intrude upon her. In Paris 
 we may get rid of all but present thoughts : 
 there is much good English society there, and 
 there we may with propriety emerge from the 
 ridiculous solitude to which custom dooms a 
 newly-married couple for a certain time in 
 England. We shall make it out there till 
 shooting begins, when Sadgrove will be bear- 
 able; for the promise of plenty of birds will 
 bring down plenty of friends, and we shall 
 then, I trust, go on admirably." 
 
 Magnus, who, as usual, heard unmoved all 
 the details of his dear friend's intended pro- ' 
 ceedings, satisfied himself that the ceremony 
 which had just taken place was not to be con- 
 sidered as unquestionably productive of hap- 
 piness to the parties concerned. The necessity 
 of creating an artificial gaiety which Mortimer 
 evidently found, the absolute importance of 
 stifling old recollections, in short, the struggle 
 which he was making merely to try an experi-
 
 192 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 meiit upon his own character and disposition, 
 seemed to the immovable Colonel an affair re- 
 plete with hazard ; for it was quite clear that, 
 added to the grief which still preyed upon 
 him, and the mistrust which he had of himself, 
 he had certain misgivings with regard to the 
 steadiness of Helen, and the desire that some- 
 body dear to him should be near her to direct 
 her course through life, was no trifling evidence 
 of the real state of his apprehensions. 
 
 " You have nothing to do," said Mortimer, 
 " come over to us at Paris; we shall probably 
 make some excursions during our stay — let us 
 make a little party — what do you say ?"" 
 
 " I can say nothing," said Magnus, " for I 
 am a creature of circumstances. I have a 
 good deal of money locked up in those infernal 
 Spanish bonds, and I do not like to leave them, 
 for, with the game the brokers are playing in 
 conjunction with the foreign news-writers, not 
 to speak of the despatches written at Falmouth 
 and forwarded to town by the Spanish packets, 
 a man may be ruined before he knows where he 
 is. But write to me— let me hear from you ;
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 193 
 
 and, upon my honour, if business permits, I 
 will run over with the greatest possible pleasure." 
 Even in this last request Magnus saw an- 
 other instance of Mortimer's anxiety not to be 
 left, as lovers ordinarily wish to be, altogether 
 alone with his bride, and of a restlessness 
 which auffured ill for the future. He, how- 
 ever, pressed Mortimer's hand warmly, and 
 permitted his features to assume an expression 
 of mingled solicitude and congratulation, but 
 it relapsed into its former rigidity, when Mor- 
 timer, on leaving him, said, " Charles, you 
 have been with me once before upon an occa- 
 sion like this." 
 
 Magnus playfully pushed him forward to- 
 wards the drawing-room, where the bridal party 
 were waiting his return to witness the depar- 
 ture of the happy couple. That Helen looked 
 beautiful nobody could deny ; that she looked 
 happy is another affair. The entire change of 
 character effected by the ceremony which had 
 so recently been performed, the entire altera- 
 tion of the duties of life produced by that sa- 
 cred rite, the vast futurity opening to her view, 
 VOL. 1. K.
 
 194 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 SO different in its nature from the days that 
 were passed ; the entire surrender of herself 
 to an authority which the day before she did 
 not acknowledge, and the abandonment, to 
 a certain extent, of that exclusive obedience 
 which a few hours previously she implicitly 
 yielded to her father ; the whole combination 
 of circumstances, the balance between perfect 
 happiness and something less than happiness, 
 the apprehension, the doubt, the dread, the 
 joy, the sorrow, — for they all mingle in the 
 heart of a bride at the moment when she hears 
 the carriage-door close upon herself and her 
 husband, and finds herself, for the first time in 
 her life, confided to the care, the protection, 
 and the love, of an alien to her blood, Helen 
 deeply and intensely felt ; and the pang which 
 rent her heart as she received her fond father's 
 parting kiss, the last of those kisses of devoted 
 affection which were hers while she alone was 
 all his care, and while she had none other to 
 look to or love but him, was one of the bitter- 
 est she had ever endured. It seemed like the 
 tearing asunder of a thousand tender ties, the
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 195 
 
 abandonment of home, and all its associations. 
 She was gently forced from his embrace by 
 the imperturbable Colonel, who led her to the 
 door while she sobbed bitterly. 
 
 Mortimer was scarcely less affected ; indeed 
 the whole party seemed to sympathise so deeply 
 in feelings which very few of them exactly 
 comprehended, that the crying became general, 
 and a much more melancholy scene was enact- 
 ed than a man of the world would, in these 
 times, expect to see at a funeral. Magnus, 
 alone, remained calm, firm, and placid, and 
 having deposited his charge in one corner of the 
 travelling-chariot, and Mortimer having taken 
 possession of the other, and pulled down the 
 blind to avoid the gaze of the gaping crowd, 
 the word was given to the postilions, and Mr. 
 and Mrs. Mortimer were on their way to Dover 
 at the rate of twelve miles an hour. 
 
 Batley made his excuses to his friends for re- 
 tiring to his room, and shortly after three o'clock 
 the house was deserted, and looked duller and 
 more dismal than it had appeared during the 
 whole time it had been in Batley''s occupation. 
 
 k2
 
 196 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Few were the days that elapsed after Helen's 
 wedding before Mr. John Batley presented 
 himself at Jacob's counting-house in Lilypot 
 Lane ; but vain were his attempts to obtain 
 admission upon his first application. The re- 
 quest to see him, on the part of his brother, 
 was pressed upon him by a confidential clerk : 
 " Well,"" groaned Jacob, " if it must be so, it 
 must. I may, for all I know, commit an act 
 of bankruptcy by denying myself, considering 
 I never dine here: let him in then — not that / 
 want to see him ; and I don't suppose I should 
 if he did not want something of me. Show 
 him in." 
 
 *' My dear Jacob," said Batley, as he enter- 
 ed the counting-house in a sort of theatrical
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 197 
 
 pace, his lips smirking and his eyes twinkling, 
 " I am delighted to " 
 
 " That '11 do, sir,— that '11 do !" interrupted 
 Jacob. " I know : the quality folks are gone, 
 and now Jacob is suddenly becoming very de- 
 lightful. If you have anything to say on busi- 
 ness, be short ; I have little time to lose upon 
 talk." 
 
 " I merely came to say, my dear brother," 
 said Jack, " that now I have cleared my house 
 of the only man that ever objected to your 
 society, I shall be too happy to see you again 
 under my roof. What say you to to-day — 
 only four of us — at a quarter past seven ?"" 
 
 " Psha !" said Jacob. " You know what 
 Mr. Pitt said to the Duchess of Gordon when 
 she asked him one day to come and dine with 
 her at nine. — ' Very sorry he couldn't, for he 
 was engaged to sup with the Bishop of Lincoln at 
 eight.' — Quarter past seven ! — no : by that time 
 /shall have dined, and had my port, my punch, 
 and perhaps my pipe, ay, even before you think 
 of sitting down. Why, d'ye suppose when I go
 
 198 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 to your fine banquets in Grosvenor Street that 
 I haven't dined before I come ? What do the 
 women do ? — I have caught them at it when I 
 was let into your house : — they eat like alder- 
 men at luncheon : don't care a button for an 
 old fogey like me — no: — before me, at it they 
 go ; cutlet after cutlet ; a little bit of this, and 
 a little bit of that ; and eh ! — psha ! — heavy 
 luncheons make delicate dinners. I'm up to 
 that ! No, Jack, — if I am not good enough for 
 your company, I am better left out altogether."" 
 
 " Nay," said Jack, " but you should do me 
 justice : I am always delighted, as you know, 
 to see you ; and whether you dine before you 
 come, and make my dinner, like Mr. Pitt's, a 
 supper, I care not. You must know, Jacob," 
 — looking at him with a marked expression of 
 affection, " you must know that to me you are 
 always welcome. Colonel Mortimer is a man 
 of the world, but he is peculiarly circum- 
 stanced ; he is nervous, — sensitive, — and " 
 
 " Yes," said Jacob ; " that is to say, he has 
 done a great heap of things of which he is 
 naturally ashamed. He is all over irritability,
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 199 
 
 and plain speaking won't do : it never does 
 with that sort of man: — and yet, the sort of 
 man who cannot hear plain truth without win- 
 cing, is the sort of man you have chosen for a 
 son-in-law ! I could tell you something more 
 about him and his^ but I sha'n't. It is nothing 
 to we, and I don't want to get into any worry ; 
 but I know what I know, — and what I know, 
 Master Johnny, I keep to myself." 
 
 " Still," said Jacob, " you will come and 
 dine with me." 
 
 " I won't now, and that 's flat," said Jacob. 
 " You fancy your invitations are favours ; 
 they are worries. Why should I, living in 
 Lilypot Lane, take the trouble to dress myself 
 up with silk stockings and pumps, as they 
 call them, to go pottering up to Grosvenor 
 Street to eat, or rather look at, for I never 
 eat, a parcel of what you call entries or en- 
 trays, or something — meat made nasty; dishes 
 with poor honest turkeys smothered with 
 dabs of pudding, and suiFocated with chestnuts 
 and cray-fish, which never were meant to be 
 near them ; salmon pelted with capers ; or
 
 200 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 fowls bedeviled with lumps of nastiness — truf- 
 fles you call them — lumps of fungus that dogs 
 rout out of the ground under trees with their 
 noses, and all that ; tongues varnished like 
 pictures ; and a paw-about mess that you 
 call pitchamele, or something, and all the rest 
 of it ? No, no : I am glad to see you, be- 
 cause I like you as well as I like anybody 
 else ; but all the green and yellow smish- 
 smashery that you fancy fine, and get the gout 
 by eating, I look upon with sovereign con- 
 tempt. Give me a plain, clean, wholesome din- 
 ner at four o"'clock, and no luncheon ; — as to 
 your fine feeds, keep them." 
 
 " Well," said Jack, " if you like plain 
 cookery" 
 
 " If !" exclaimed Jacob — " why, what cook- 
 ery did you like when you were young ? — you 
 didn't care much about it then. Rely upon it, 
 the best sauce for a dinner is a good appetite ; 
 but you have spoiled yours. I would bet you 
 a guinea that I would make you eat more, if 
 you would dine with me at * The Horn,' at 
 five say, — I Ul give you an hour, five, — than
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 201 
 
 you have eaten for a year, barring luncheon — 
 provided always that you pay your share. I 
 never give dinners at a tavern, and I never 
 dine at home. — You see, Jack : every tub on 
 its own bottom." 
 
 " I should be very glad," said Batley, " to 
 dine with you anywhere, and upon any terms, 
 but to-day, as I have already said, I have a 
 few friends to dine with me.'''' 
 
 " Friends, have you .'"" said Jacob : " small 
 party, I take it. What was the man's name 
 that lived in the tub, and walked about with 
 a lantern to look for a man ? If you lived in 
 a tub, you might walk your legs off before 
 you found a friend ; but as you occupy a house, 
 and keep a table that you can't afford, the 
 smooth-faced hypocrites come at your call, and 
 do you the honour to eat your victuals and 
 drink your wine, and then go away and laugh 
 at you. I suppose that tom-foolery is nearly 
 now at an end ; having married Helen, I con- 
 clude you will get rid of your house." 
 
 " Why," said Batley junior, " that would 
 
 look strange. The world would wonder" 
 
 K 5
 
 202 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 " There you go again,"" exclaimed Jacob. 
 
 " The world ! — why " 
 
 " But," said John Batley interrupting his 
 brother, " I have another object in view." 
 
 " Oh !" said Jacob in a tone expressive of 
 the utmost indifference upon any subject con- 
 nected with his gay relative, who, strange to 
 say, with all his knowledge of the world, never 
 despaired of interesting the merchant in his 
 affairs, and rarely did anything without con- 
 sulting him — " and what may that be — more 
 wild geese, or more wild oats ?" 
 
 " Neither,"" said John, " but the fact is" — 
 
 " Ah ! " said Jacob, " that is what you 
 
 generally begin with, before you bring out a 
 
 bouncer. I know ' facts ' are not always 
 
 truths : but go on, because I have business of 
 
 consequence to do, and " 
 
 " I will be brief,'' said Batley. " The fact 
 is, brother, that when a man has been used 
 to a home and female society, he feels a loss 
 when deprived of it, which nobody, dissimilarly 
 situated, can properly appreciate. I lived 
 happily with my poor dear wife, and at her 
 death Helen was sufficiently grown up to be
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 203 
 
 a companion to me, and to rally round me 
 female friends. She is now gone. I antici- 
 pate nothing but misery and wretchedness in 
 the life I am destined to lead, and having long 
 foreseen this, have for some time resolved upon 
 marrying again." 
 
 " Marry again !" said Jacob, — " well, that is 
 something to talk about. I never married once." 
 
 " And therefore are insensible to the de- 
 lights of a home cheered by the presence and 
 influence of an amiable woman," said Jack. 
 
 " Psha !" replied Jacob. " You have con- 
 trived to do remarkably well for a long time 
 without ' the presence and influence of an 
 amiable woman:' what's the use of beeinnino; 
 again now ?"" 
 
 " Pardon me !*" said John — " not exactly ; 
 while, as I have just said, Helen was with 
 me, I felt that I had a home, — an agreeable 
 home, where her presence ensured that sort of 
 society in which, I admit, I rejoice ; and now 
 she is gone, it will be a blank." 
 
 '* And yet," said Jacob, " you never were 
 easy till she went." 
 
 " Can't you conceive it possible, my dear
 
 204 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 brother,*' said John, " that a father may sacri- 
 fice his own personal comforts for the advan- 
 tage of his child?" 
 
 " I can't enter into all that," said Jacob, 
 " I never had a child. However, if you choose 
 to marry, you will marry, I suppose, to please 
 yourself; and as I can have nothing to do with 
 it, I really don't want to hear anything about 
 it. Here, Mr. Grub, bring me the letters ; I 
 can't waste my time." 
 
 " And you won't come i^" said John insinu- 
 atingly. 
 
 " Psha ! no," replied Jacob shaking his head ; 
 and John took his leave, not at all pleased 
 with the tone of his brother's observations on 
 his marriage, yet still hoping that time would 
 soften all asperities, and that when he did die, 
 if his death should precede his own, he should 
 find in his will a striking proof of the affec- 
 tion which he had never discovered in his beha- 
 viour while alive. 
 
 That John Batley should feel disposed to 
 marry again does not seem so extraordinary. 
 Jolm had married young, — was a young father,
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 205 
 
 — and, as he truly said, the relative ages of 
 himself and Helen had, in some degree, alle- 
 viated the grief which he felt for the loss of 
 her mother, by placing her in the position of 
 mistress of his house, at a somewhat premature 
 age, perhaps, — but there she was, — and, as 
 he vainly endeavoured to impress upon Jacob's 
 mind, — there was female society ; and John 
 liked female society : he had been a sort of 
 male coquette all his life, and loved dangling 
 at fifty-four as much as he did when he was less 
 than half that age ; and it is astonishing (per- 
 haps not, because the case is so common) that 
 a habit of that sort does not wear off with time 
 as might be expected. The man of fifty-four 
 flirts, and is not ill received ; but he does not 
 appreciate the mode of his reception ; he does 
 not feel himself much older than he was, five- 
 and-twenty years before ; he scarcely sees an 
 alteration in his own person ; all that he won- 
 ders at is, the extraordinary flippancy and for- 
 wardness of boys of five-and-twenty, forgetting 
 that when he was of their age he considered an 
 old fellow of fifty-four a " regular nuisance."
 
 206 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 Wonderful, however, have been the changes 
 in society within the last half century : the 
 march and influence of age have been neutral- 
 ized to an extent which our grandfathers could 
 not have believed, and certainly never antici- 
 pated. Fifty years ago, the idea of a man of 
 sixty in a black neckcloth, with curls and 
 trousers, and a fancy waistcoat, with amethyst 
 studs in his shirt-bosom, dancing quadrilles, 
 never would have entered into the head of a 
 human being. The dress might have been as 
 gay, or gayer, but it would have been made 
 up of pomatum and powder and a bag or a 
 club, with shorts, and shoes and buckles. At 
 one period, the pig-tail, which superseded the 
 club-knob which had previously succeeded to 
 the bag, would have been indispensable ; nay, 
 there are at this moment half a score matured 
 gentlemen, who thirty years since sported tails, 
 knobs, and pigs, with powder and pomatum, 
 aforesaid, walking the assemblies of London in 
 picturesque-coloured wigs, fancy waistcoats, 
 and symmetrically-cut pantaloons. 
 
 The question was, what sort of woman Batley
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 207 
 
 would marry ? and the question again resolved 
 itself into another, what sort of woman would 
 marry Batley ? One of the cleverest of her sex 
 said, that the most dangerous part of a man 
 was his tongue ; and no doubt what her 
 ladyship said was true ; for when the mind 
 is won, the heart and everything else follow. 
 To those who knew Batley best, it would, 
 no doubt, have appeared most probable that 
 he would have sought for noble blood ; but 
 when a man of Batley's standing takes that 
 line, he must not expect to have it young. 
 Lady Angelim, and Lady Seraphina are, no 
 doubt, to be gotten hold of under such circum- 
 stances ; but they must be poor and elderly ; 
 and it remained with Batley to decide, whether 
 to flourish amidst " the sublime and beautiful " 
 in Burke's Peerage, with a sort of negative re- 
 ception in the family of the lady, were of suffi- 
 cient importance to outweigh the attractions of 
 a younger bride of less pretension. What he 
 did in this momentous affair a little time and 
 patience will show. 
 
 Finding all efforts to interest his brother in
 
 208 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 any of his projects or propositions useless, he 
 left him to the enjoyment of money-getting, 
 which seemed the absorbing passion of his life, 
 and resumed, or rather increased in brillian- 
 cy, a career of gaiety, by which he hoped to 
 dispel the gloom of his desolate home, and 
 bring himself into notice in his new character 
 of a disposable widower. 
 
 The days and the weeks wore on, and the 
 honey-moon of Mortimer and his beautiful 
 Helen was over, and yet no symptoms ap- 
 peared of their return to Sadgrove. Helen, 
 tired of Paris, and the praise which was lavish- 
 ed on her beauty and accomplishments, sought 
 for change ; but, whenever she touched upon 
 home, Mortimer interposed some very good rea- 
 sons why they had better wait a little ; and this 
 was repeated so often as to protract their stay 
 in Paris for nearly seven weeks, during which 
 period Mortimer received several letters from 
 his sister, to which he duly returned answers ; 
 but Helen observed that he never made the 
 slightest reference, in his conversations with her, 
 either to their object or contents. She thought
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 209 
 
 he seemed more gloomy than usual after receiv- 
 ing one of them — for he had relapsed into gloom 
 very soon after his marriage ; and although she 
 did not like to make any enquiries about the 
 correspondence, she still felt uneasy at perceiv- 
 ing what she considered a want of confidence 
 in her, in the conduct of her husband. 
 
 This feeling induced her to write, as was her 
 wont, a letter to her father, from which the 
 reader may infer that the harmony of their 
 union was not altogether so sweet as might 
 have been expected. I am able to submit it. 
 
 " Dear Father, Paris. 
 
 " Your kind letter was most welcome, 
 and I vvill take care of the commissions you 
 speak of, although a little puzzled as to the 
 person or persons for whom the gaieties are 
 designed. I speak sincerely to you when I tell 
 you that I am tired to death of this Paris, one 
 lives so constantly abroad, so constantly before 
 the world. I don't know how the French 
 themselves feel, but I do think there is nothing 
 like home in Paris, — and Paris is France.
 
 210 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 " I am a good deal vexed by Mortimer"'s 
 manner ; I do not know why, but he seems to 
 me to have something constantly weighing up- 
 on his mind. He is as kind to me as any hu- 
 man being can be to another, and I enjoy his 
 society beyond all description, but I do think 
 something worries him constantly. I would 
 give the world to go to Sadgrove, as he origi- 
 nally proposed, but whenever I mention it, he 
 always interposes some objection which I sup- 
 pose is good, but which does not always appear 
 to me sufficient. He has been writing a great 
 deal to his sister, and seems very much to wish 
 me to be known to her; but, from all I can ga» 
 ther, she declines the honour; why, I cannot ex- 
 actly imagine. Colonel Magnus, as you know, 
 has been staying with us for the last ten days, 
 and, somehow, I begin to dislike him more than 
 ever. He and Francis talk about matters of 
 which I am wholly ignorant, and they laugh, 
 and look grave by turns ; and I believe the pro- 
 crastination of our return to England is some- 
 how connected with Mrs. Farnham's answer to 
 Francis's last letter. I wish I were at home
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 211 
 
 with all my heart. I do not, because I must 
 not, mean my own dear home with j/om, but I 
 mean Sadgrove, which is my home now. 
 
 *• You cannot think, dear Pappy, how strange 
 it seems to be treated with a sort of formality 
 and restraint by one whom one loves. You 
 always told me when you came home all that 
 you had heard and seen. You expressed your 
 wishes, imparted your thoughts, and all with- 
 out reserve or constraint ; but Francis does not 
 treat me so. If anybody speaks to me civilly, 
 I mean any of these gay Parisian dandies for 
 whom I care nothing, of course, but to whom 
 one must in pure good breeding be commonly 
 civil, he looks grave and almost angry ; and 
 when I, seeing that, (for, as you know, I can 
 see as quickly as my neighbours,) entreat him 
 to take me to England and to his favourite 
 place in Worcestershire, he knits his brows, 
 and even — don't be shocked, Pappy — swears, 
 and then begins to talk of his sister, and her 
 disinclination to visit it. Whatever the cause of 
 this agitation may be, I am certain that Colo- 
 nel Magnus knows what it is. I know, Colonel
 
 212 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 Magnus is a great favourite of yours. I 
 never could like him, and I must own my 
 feeliners towards him have not assumed a more 
 favourable character since he has joined us 
 here. 
 
 " During our excursion to Tours, Francis 
 visited some old friends of his, a Count and 
 Countess St. Alme ; they returned with us 
 here, and we have seen a good deal of them 
 since. She is an Englishwoman, but not ex- 
 actly to my taste, — handsome, and somewhat 
 apt to do what you have sometimes scolded, 
 at least as much as you were in the habit of 
 scolding me, for doing, — I mean saying off-hand 
 things. I certainly do not pretend to equal 
 her in that sort of talent or in knowledge of 
 the world ; whether I am grown fastidious, or 
 whether, being married, I have become graver, 
 I do not exactly know, but I cannot quite like 
 her ; she seems, however, a great favourite with 
 Francis. She has one son, of whom she appears 
 dotingly fond, and I do not wonder, for he is a 
 remarkably engaging boy. 
 
 " I wish, my dear Pappy, you would write
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 213 
 
 to Francis and urge his return to England ; I 
 am sure we should be much happier — at least, 
 I know I should — there, than here. Francis 
 has bought me some beautiful china, and 
 some trinkets that will dazzle you ; but what 
 are trinkets if the heart is not at ease ? 
 
 " Colonel Magnus brings accounts of your 
 being particularly gay, and says that your lit- 
 tle dinners are quite the rage. I am glad to 
 hear of this, for although, dutiful as I am, I 
 did not flatter myself that the loss of my so- 
 ciety would be fatal to your happiness, still, 
 we are such creatures of habit, that even so 
 dull a companion as I must have been, may be 
 missed. I even miss the flirting and barking of 
 poor dear little Fan, and should jump for joy 
 to hear her welcome me to Grosvenor Street — 
 I hope she is well. 
 
 " I have written to-day to Lady Bembridge, 
 but I have only heard from her once since we 
 have been here. I wrote also to poor dear un- 
 cle Jacob, but not a word of answer. I wanted, 
 if possible, to soothe his angry feelings towards 
 Francis — as for Francis's feelings towards
 
 214 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 him, I fear tliey are beyond my healincr art. 
 I have tried once or twice to introduce the 
 subject, but have been stopped on the in- 
 stant. I believe if there is anybody uncle 
 Jacob cares for, it is me, although I have 
 never experienced any farther mark of his af- 
 fection than the negative advantage of not 
 being spoken to by him quite so roughly as 
 everybody else. 
 
 " Thank you very much for your kind letter 
 of the 8th, and for the little bit of news it con- 
 tained. I was telling Francis some of the gos- 
 sip, but he did not seem to like it ; and, when 
 I was setting forth the extraordinary indiscre- 
 tion of poor Mrs. Z., he took me up rather pa- 
 rentally, I thought, and said ' Helen, we all 
 have our failings, — let us be sure we are more 
 perfect ourselves than our neighbours before 
 we remark upon them,' — so I held my tongue 
 like a good and dutiful girl, and determined 
 for the future to avoid being snubbed. Write, 
 however, like a dear good Pappy as you are, 
 and be assured I shall be most grateful for 
 anything you can tell me ; for, next to being in
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 215 
 
 England, and with those whom I have so long 
 known and loved, my greatest pleasure is hear- 
 ing from them ; and so adieu, dear Pappy, and 
 believe me truly and sincerely 
 
 " Your affectionate child, 
 
 " Helen Mortimer."" 
 
 Batley read this letter with mingled yet op- 
 posite feelings. The affection of the daughter 
 which it displayed pleased and delighted him, 
 but he was not quite satisfied with the tone 
 which she assumed in the character of the wife. 
 It was evident that the reserve which charac- 
 terized the conduct of INIortimer had generated 
 something like distrust on the part of Helen ; 
 and it even appeared to Batley, from the total 
 absence of any reference to his name as " uniting 
 in kind regards," or joining in remembrances 
 to his father-in-law, as if he had been in no 
 degree a party to her writing. It was clear 
 too that Helen was not so happy as she had 
 expected to be ; and it was equally clear to 
 Batley that he remembered some story of an 
 old attachment of Mortimer, older than that
 
 216 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 of Lady Hillingdon, and of a subsequent mar- 
 riage of the lady to a foreigner ; and, if he 
 had not himself been in full pursuit of his pre- 
 sent matrimonial object, he would have taken 
 instant steps to ascertain the precise facts of 
 this nearly forgotten historiette ; as it was, he 
 had scarcely time to think over his daughter's 
 letter, although its perusal left upon his mind 
 a sort of nervousness and anxiety which quali- 
 fied the whole of his day's occupation, and of 
 the real cause of which he was himself scarcely 
 conscious. 
 
 At this period of our history, in which some 
 new mystifications begin to arise, it may not 
 be altogether amiss to let the reader glance his 
 eye over a letter, one of a series which Morti- 
 mer received at the period to which Helen re- 
 ferred in her's to her father. It may be con- 
 sidered, as the housekeeper in Morton's excel- 
 lent comedy of " Speed the Plough" says, 
 " vastly ungenteel " to betray confidences, and 
 above all, expose a lady's correspondence; but, 
 considering that the recipient of the letters was 
 her brother, and that we shall get more satis-
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 217 
 
 factorily at facts than we could by any other 
 means, we must waive ceremony and put upon 
 record one of the missives with which the 
 exemplary Mrs. Farnhara favoured, or rather 
 troubled, Colonel Francis Mortimer. An ex- 
 tract, however, will suffice. 
 
 " I cannot," says this exemplary lady, " bring 
 myself yet to believe what I am positively told 
 is true. Francis, my brother, my beloved err- 
 ing brother, you already anticipate what I am 
 going to say ; let me be right in my anticipa- 
 tions of what you will answer. I hear that 
 you and your young wife are living upon terms 
 of the greatest intimacy with the Count and 
 Countess St. Alme. I am sure this must be 
 calumny, it can not be true — no, no, my dear 
 Francis, until you admit the fact yourself I 
 will not believe it. Truly, indeed, has it been 
 said, that the world is prone to form its esti- 
 mate of a man's character from the early indis- 
 cretions of his youth ; and, thence dating, it is 
 a difficult task to work upwards against the 
 stream which runs fast against him ; but, for- 
 give me as you know how I love you, a recur- 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 rence to what in youth were indiscretions ren- 
 ders the case hopeless. Francis, recollect I am 
 old enough to remember all the anxieties of 
 our poor fatlier ; recollect that you, the idol of 
 both your parents, were the constant object of 
 their care, the constant theme of their conver- 
 sation to me. Recollect how much you con- 
 fided in your only sister : let me not believe the 
 history they tell me: — the Countess St. Alme 
 the associate of your young wife ! — no, Francis, 
 no, — they libel you. 
 
 " Your repeated invitations to England, I 
 tell you, are useless ; I have already given you 
 my reasons. But do not yourself delay return- 
 ing to your proper home, — take there your 
 innocent bride, — be good, — be happy : — let me 
 entreat, implore you, do this; and this I ear- 
 nestly urge upon you, convinced that all I 
 hear of this Countess is groundless. If it 
 should be true ! — but no, it cannot be : — if it 
 should, let me, with all the power I may have 
 over you, press your instant removal from 
 Paris. Surely, what you have already suflPer- 
 ed, — the torture that you have endured, — the
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 219 
 
 misery you have experienced, — must of them- 
 selves act as incentives to such a step : — if 
 not, Francis, let a sister's prayers, — prayers 
 breathed to Heaven by one who, through a 
 life now past its zenith, never has wilfully or 
 willingly offended the sacred power to which 
 she appeals, move your heart and fix your 
 resolution. Go, my brother ! — do not expose 
 yourself, and the young creature whom you 
 have taught to love you, to trials which may, 
 in their results, destroy her happiness, and for 
 ever ruin your still redeemable character." 
 
 From this we gain something like an insight 
 into matters of which poor Helen was evidently 
 ignorant ; and yet she had seen enough in the 
 boldness of the Countess, and the subserviency 
 of the Count, to feel a decided distaste to the 
 society of the favourite associates of her 
 husband. 
 
 Mortimer's answer to his sister admitted the 
 fact of a renewal of his acquaintance with the 
 Countess, but denied either the impropriety or 
 indelicacy of it. The Count and Countess St. 
 Alme were a most amiable couple, univer- 
 
 l2
 
 220 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 sally esteemed, and generally visited, — and 
 why should they not be ? The Countess was 
 an English lady of birth and station, and had 
 married an elderly gentleman of the name of 
 Blocksford, who, some eighteen years before, 
 had died, and left her with one son, which son 
 was, as Helen had stated, his mother's idol, 
 and naturally so, for, as she says in her letter, 
 he was " a remarkably engaging boy." 
 
 After leading an irreproachable life as a 
 widow for three or four years, she married the 
 Count St. Alme, a smallish French gentleman 
 with a particularly long red-tipped nose and 
 thin legs, by whom she had in the first year of 
 her marriage a daughter. The child, born 
 somewhat prematurely, died, and since that 
 period the Count and Countess had had no 
 farther increase to their family. 
 
 That, as Helen saw, the Countess talked, 
 and laughed, and even flirted, nobody denied, 
 — and what the harm ? 
 
 " Where Virtue is, tliese are most virtuous." 
 
 Although Helen herself, young as she was, 
 had already suffered not a little, for a gaiety.
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 221 
 
 and even forwardness of manner, of which 
 she admits herself, in her letter to her father, 
 to be conscious; still people only said, "What 
 a lively creature !" — " What an odd crea- 
 ture ! " — " What a pleasant creature ! " — 
 " What extraordinary things she does say !' 
 — for upon a principle not unfrequently re- 
 cognized, that a free tongue is the safety- 
 valve for exuberant spirits, and that the " si- 
 lent stream runs deepest," voluble volatile 
 ladies of this school generally escape the graver 
 imputations which those who, as Horace Wal- 
 pole says, 
 
 " Know the country well," 
 
 are apt to cast upon the quieter and more cal- 
 culating of their own sex. 
 
 Something, however, it was too clear, had 
 occurred (what, nobody can surmise) in Mor- 
 timer's youthful days, which rendered the re- 
 newal of his intimacy with the Countess St. 
 Alme extremely objectionable in the eyes of 
 the exemplary Mrs. Farnham ; and the cir- 
 cumstance coming to her knowledge just as she 
 had admitted to her friend and associate at
 
 222 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 Naples that her heart was beginning to melt, 
 and that she really thought she might be in- 
 duced to visit Sadgrove, put an end to all 
 further hopes, or even negotiations, upon that 
 particular point. 
 
 We have already seen, and the reader has 
 already perhaps appreciated, the difficulty 
 which Mortimer felt in revisiting the former 
 scene of his equivocal happiness and certain 
 misery It must be clear — at least if Mrs. 
 Farnham be supposed to know the truth, — 
 as regarded the Count and his lady, that the 
 attraction, which even Helen saw the latter 
 possessed for her husband, acted still more 
 powerfully as a repellent from Sadgrove ; but 
 perhaps even the reader is not prepared to 
 hear, that failing in his sister, and greatly dis- 
 turbed by her lecture, the St. Almes were in- 
 vited to supply her place, and to form three of 
 the family circle at his paternal home. 
 
 *' I have been endeavouring to persuade the 
 Count and Countess," said Mortimer, with a 
 carelessness of manner well calculated to dis- 
 guise the deep interest he took in Helen's
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 223 
 
 reply, "to go over and pass a month or six 
 weeks with us at Sadgrove." 
 
 " Then you are really going to England, 
 Francis," said Helen, exactly as he anticipated. 
 
 " Of course, love," said Mortimer : " where 
 should a man live but in his own house ?" 
 
 " No," said Helen, — " there we perfectly 
 agree; only by prolonging your stay here, 
 you give no practical proof of your disposition 
 to go."" 
 
 *' I hoped," said Mortimer, " that my sister 
 would have come to us and gone with us, but 
 she throws me over ; and I really think — you 
 know, dear Helen, a country-house, quite alone, 
 is not delightful." 
 
 Is it not extraordinary that Sadgrove, and 
 the solitude imposed upon him during his resi- 
 dence there by circumstances, were so strongly 
 fixed in his mind, that he could not imagine 
 the possibility of rallying round him and his 
 charming wife all that he chose of society ? 
 He dreaded the recollection of what it had 
 been ; and in order to render himself secure 
 from a repetition of what had happened there.
 
 224f BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 endeavoured to secure, by way of enliveners, 
 two j)ersons who, if what Mrs. Farnham im- 
 plied was true, would not have objected to make 
 it agreeable even under the former regime. 
 
 " Not quite alone," said Helen. " But why 
 should we be quite alone ? — there are whole 
 crowds of people who would be too happy to 
 come to us." 
 
 " I see," said Mortimer, " you dislike the 
 St. Almes." 
 
 " Not I, indeed, dear Francis," said Helen, 
 — (which, having glanced over her confidential 
 letters, we happen to know was not entirely 
 truth.)—" I think he is rather dull and prosy, 
 — and odd, — and queer ; but" 
 
 " And the Countess ?" said Mortimer — " is 
 she too lively ? — are her bon-mots too fre- 
 quent i^ — does she startle you by her repartees ? 
 I should think not, Helen ; for having your- 
 self been, like Britannia in Thomson's sonsr — 
 
 ' The dread and envy of them all,' — 
 I mean of all the beaux, belles, and blues of 
 London, for two or three seasons, you must 
 understand the play of such artillery, and know
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 225 
 
 that the brightest wit is not incompatible with 
 the purest heart." 
 
 Helen paused, and felt herself colouring up ; 
 her pure heart didheat : — Mortimer had shot his 
 bolt beyond the mark. Who had even insinu- 
 ated that the heart of the Countess St. Alme 
 was not pure ? Who had complained of the 
 gaiety of her conversation ? Why did Morti- 
 mer recur to the manners and conduct of his 
 wife, by which he had been captivated ? — or 
 why lay a peculiarly strong emphasis on the 
 words " two or three seasons ?"" 
 
 *' I am sure," said Helen, 
 
 " With a smile that was half a tear," 
 " anybody, dear Francis, that you like, I like." 
 
 " No, Helen," said Mortimer, " I really do 
 not require any such implicit obedience as 
 that ; I never could myself afford it. You 
 love your uncle Jacob — I hate him ; and how- 
 ever much I love ^/ou, I never could bring 
 myself to endure him. What I meant, dear 
 girl, was, to consult you v/hether it would be 
 agreeable to you to have the St. Almes with us 
 for a few weeks." 
 
 L 5
 
 226 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 " Oh ! quite agreeable," said Helen, — 
 " quite."" And she was again near bursting 
 into tears. 
 
 " Well then," said Mortimer, " I will ask 
 them, — or at least you shall — it will look bet- 
 ter: and, to tell you the truth, I think, — and 
 indeed that was one of my motives for speak- 
 ing to you about it, — I think the Countess 
 fancies you do 7iot like her ; so an invitation 
 this evening, in one of your most winning 
 ways, will convince her to the contrary, and we 
 will start for England in two or three days." 
 
 Poor Helen was now completely trapped. 
 She saw by Mortimer"'s manner that he had 
 made up his mind that these odious people 
 should accompany them to England, and re- 
 main on a visit with them. She felt such 
 an awe, — not of Francis, but of the Count- 
 ess, — that she dared not venture even to re- 
 monstrate against the proceeding, although she 
 was aware that, for a certain time at least, it 
 would be fatal to her own comfort : — besides, 
 taking it upon other grounds, the admission 
 made by Mortimer, that the enjoyment of
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 227 
 
 his young wife's society, without some other 
 adjuncts, would not ensure his happiness, was 
 by no means either gratifying or consolatory. 
 
 Nobody can duly appreciate the state of 
 Helen's feelings during; the interval between 
 the conversation with her husband and dinner- 
 time. Her whole mind was occupied with the 
 duty she was forced to perform, when she and 
 the Countess should be left alone ; for Mortimer 
 and Magnus had drilled the Count into the 
 social but extremely ungallant English cus- 
 tom of " sitting and sipping" a little wine, after 
 the ladies, according to the manner of the 
 house, had retired. At dinner she was pale 
 and flushed by turns : she reflected upon all 
 the plans and scliemes she had suggested for 
 the employment of her time at Sadgrove ; and 
 perhaps (for as to any sinister motives on the 
 part of Mortimer, even if there had been any 
 just cause to doubt him, she never suspected 
 them) — perhaps she did not feel altogether 
 pleased with the idea of taking possession of her 
 little sovereignty associated with a lady, whose 
 maturer age gave a greater confidence in her
 
 228 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 intercourse with the world, and who already 
 began to treat her rather as a promising young 
 woman, than as Helen had been treated " for 
 a season or two," as one of the first class of 
 London beauties. 
 
 The task was to be performed, and so en- 
 tirely did Mortimer rely upon Helen's implicit 
 obedience to his wishes on the subject, that 
 he communicated to the Count, shortly after 
 the ladies went, the fact that Mrs. Mortimer 
 was most anxious that he and the Countess 
 should accompany them to England. Lucky, 
 therefore, was it, — or unlucky, as the case 
 may be, — that Helen did as she was bid ; and 
 dressing her fine face in smiles the sweetest, 
 made her request to her vivacious visitor, who, 
 however pleased she might be with the invi- 
 tation, did certainly not appear so much sur- 
 prised as a lady might naturally be expected 
 to be at an impromptu of that sort. The 
 Countess said, — That she should be delighted, 
 if the Count would agree to it, there could be 
 no doubt; and it would above all be such a 
 charming: Opportunity for Francis Blocksford
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 229 
 
 to see a little English society. " Oh, you are 
 so good, Mrs. Mortimer !"" 
 
 The Count had not been in the salon five 
 minutes before the announcement was made to 
 him, — his permission asked, and granted ; and 
 so much having been achieved, Helen resolved 
 
 o 
 
 to settle herself into a course of beginning to 
 like the Countess, to see the bright side of her 
 character, to endeavour to appreciate her odd- 
 ity, and laugh at her liveliness. But Helen, 
 who was as quicksighted as her neighbours, 
 felt a sort of check when her eye glanced over 
 the persons of Mortimer and Colonel Magnus, 
 who were standing in a window sipping their 
 coffee, and evidently talking over the arrange- 
 ment ; and she saw upon both their counte- 
 nances an expression which conveyed to her 
 mind that in some way, or for some reason 
 which she could not exactly define, they were 
 enjopng the triumph Mortimer had obtained 
 over her wishes and feelings, and that in the 
 features of the Colonel there was depicted a 
 kind of exultation at having made the sugges- 
 tion himself.
 
 230 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 As time will develope all the effects of these 
 proceedings, it is scarcely necessary here to 
 say more than that orders were forthwith des- 
 patched to have Sadgrove prepared for the 
 reception of its master and mistress ; that in- 
 vitations were forwarded to several of the 
 friends of both to join the circle ; and that 
 every sort of gaiety that could be devised for 
 the purpose of welcoming the party should 
 be displayed : in fact, all the doubts and de- 
 lays which previously served to cloud the mind 
 of Mortimer seemed to have vanished, and in 
 less than ten days the Mortimers, INIagnus, 
 the St. Almes, Master Francis Blocksford, and 
 all, were on their way to the 
 
 " Fairest Isle! — all isles excelling.''
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 231 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 The arrival of Mortimer and his bride at 
 Sadgrove was celebrated by a kind of fete, 
 prepared, to be sure, under his own directions, 
 and paid for out of his own pocket ; but it 
 had, or was intended to have, the eifect of 
 a spontaneous ebullition of popular feeling, 
 with which Helen was to be gratified and flat- 
 tered, — flattered, as far as her share of the 
 attention went, — and gratified by seeing how 
 much her husband was esteemed by his tenants 
 and neighbours : — and there were sheep roast- 
 ed, and barrels of ale broached ; and there were 
 music and dancing, and flowers and fire-works, 
 and every available display of rural festivity. 
 
 The poor neighbours did, in truth, rejoice ; 
 not, perhaps, that Mortimer had returned, — 
 for he had lived, during his former residence
 
 232 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 there, in a manner and under circumstances 
 not likely to render him so popular as he wish- 
 ed both to fancy himself and make them be- 
 lieve he actually was, but because the shutting 
 up of the " great house " of a small place is al- 
 ways a misfortune to the humbler neighbours ; 
 one of whom was heard to say upon the pre- 
 sent occasion, " It does my heart good to 
 see the great kitchen-chimney smoke again !" 
 
 These and other " external "" manifestations 
 of gaiety might perhaps have been somewhat 
 consolatory to Mortimer, but it must be con- 
 fessed, that after two or three, or three or 
 four, or four or five days had elapsed, and he 
 did not find the drive from the lodges to 
 the house ploughed up by carriage-wheels, he 
 beffan to feel the restless anxiety which uni- 
 versally characterises a man of doubtful re- 
 putation. The clergyman of the parish had 
 called without his wife and daughters, and 
 the attorney had tittuped up on his cob ; but 
 the Muffledups of Wigsbury, the Bigstuff'ems 
 of Dogsford, the Cattletons of Lapsworth, 
 the Stiffgigs of Snapsworth, and the Peeps-
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 233 
 
 burys of Littleworth, came not ; and these 
 people, although to be found nowhere but in 
 their native county, and in Burke's " History 
 of the Commoners," were something : in fact, 
 they combined in themselves the principal 
 landed interest of that part of the country, 
 and were, moreover, the " stiff, starchy" peo- 
 ple of whom Helen had such a constitutional 
 horror. Bores they would unquestionably have 
 been had they come, but to Mortimer their 
 not coming was infinitely more painful than 
 their society. Deeply imbued, as they were, 
 with the primitive simplicity of their rural 
 ancestors, they did not consider the gaiety and 
 innocence of Helen adequate to the purification 
 of the atmosphere of Sadgrove, nor think the 
 libertinism of Mortimer sufficiently qualified 
 by the change in his condition which had 
 taken place before his return to the scene of 
 his former indiscretions. 
 
 This was a serious blow to Mortimer. For 
 the Muffledups, the Stiffgigs, the Peepsburys, 
 and all the rest of their tribes, he entertained 
 the most sovereign contempt, but therefore
 
 2S4f BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 did he the more deeply feel the disinclination 
 which they evinced from his acquaintance — 
 not as far as himself was concerned, but be- 
 cause the manifestation of such a sentiment 
 might produce an effect upon Helen likely to 
 degrade him in her estimation. 
 
 This marked inattention, to call it by no 
 more positive name, could not long escape the 
 notice of Helen ; but short as had been the 
 period during which she had been Mortimer's 
 wife, there was something in his look and man- 
 ner which, to a being all quickness and percep- 
 tion, checked her from making any enquiries into 
 the cause of the absence of the promised visitors. 
 
 Mortimer absented himself from church on 
 the first Sunday after their arrival at Sad- 
 grove : there might have been more reasons 
 than one for this omission of duty. The asso- 
 ciations of circumstances connected with the 
 dead might have kept him aloof from a trial 
 which would probably have proved too strong 
 for even his firmness ; while the circumstances 
 of his non-association with the living miglit 
 have induced him not to provoke any exhi-
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 235 
 
 bition of a positive refusal of intercourse with 
 him or his family. Helen regretted his ab- 
 sence ; but when she and the Countess St. 
 Alme returned, she remarked to her hvisband 
 that he was not singular in his determination 
 of not going, for that there was scarcely any- 
 body in the church except the humbler parish- 
 ioners and neighbours — two of the non-juring 
 families having pews therein. 
 
 *' Magnus," said Mortimer to his Fidus 
 Achates, " I am by no means pleased with 
 my reception in the home of my ancestors : 
 something tells me that I am not welcomed 
 as I Gught to be here." 
 
 " My dear fellow," said Magnus, " rely upon 
 it, it is the reputation of your lovely wife that 
 keeps these timid rustics away — they are afraid 
 of her : her sarcastic turn is known, and as 
 you have yourself told me of your fears that 
 she might scare a whole herd of them by one 
 observation, so they, depend upon what I say, 
 are terrified lest she should annihilate them : — 
 nobody likes to be laughed at." 
 
 " Nay," said Mortimer, " but, after all.
 
 236 ' BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 they are not so decidedly obnoxious to ridicule 
 as all that comes to : they are certainly not 
 of the world, worldly, — in the acceptation of 
 that word as implying fashionable, or gay, or 
 easy, — but they are only correctly dull and 
 eminently respectable :— no ; the truth is, that 
 they are of my sister''s school of morality, and 
 poor Helen will suffer for my earlier trans- 
 gressions." 
 
 " She seems," said Magnus, " to have over- 
 come the disinclination from the Countess St. 
 Alme which you suspected her to have felt in 
 the outset of their acquaintance." 
 
 " So I perceive," said Mortimer ; " and I 
 begin to be as desirous that their intimacy 
 should stop where it is, as I before was that 
 it should exist. The Countess is one of my 
 earliest acquaintances ; and although I most 
 solemnly assure you that my sister's hints and 
 suspicions about any closer connexion are 
 groundless, I own that I was glad to meet her 
 again, and was pleased with her society at 
 Paris ; but I am not quite sure that I ought 
 to have acted upon the impulse of a moment.
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 237 
 
 and have made her an inmate here, especially 
 at starting : the daylight rouge, to say nothing 
 of the arched brows not altogether Nature''s 
 own, are not calculated to melt the ice of 
 Helen's ' stiff, starchy' people; and, if I had 
 reflected, I should have anticipated the disad- 
 vantages of such an association. However, it is 
 done, and by way of truism, Charles, ' What 
 is done cannot be undone :' the course now to 
 pursue is, to render the circumstances less 
 remarkable by filling the house with London 
 friends ; amongst a crowd of tigers, my viva- 
 cious hyaena will not shine out so remarkably." 
 The reader will perceive by this bit of con- 
 fidential conversation between Magnus and 
 Mortimer, that the suspicions of Mrs. Farn- 
 ham, with regard to the Countess St. Alme, 
 were groundless as far as her brother was con- 
 cerned : and, if the reader will take the trouble 
 to sift every suspected liaison of a similar na- 
 ture to the bottom, he will probably find that 
 ten out of twelve of all such histories are 
 equally groundless. Under the circumstances, 
 the prudence of Mortimer's conduct in in-
 
 238 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 viting her to Sadgrove was, as far as society 
 was concerned, exceedingly questionable : but 
 it is as well for us to set him right with regard 
 to conduct which, had his sister's views been 
 correct, would have assumed a deeper colour- 
 ing: than that of a mere want of consideration. 
 
 In pursuance, however, of his new determi- 
 nation, invitations were sent off to the most 
 agreeable of Mortimer's friends ; and Lady 
 Bembridge and Mrs, Delaville, and one or two 
 more very proper ladies, were bidden, by way 
 of " ballast" to the gayer portion of the party. 
 Jack Batley was of course amongst the chosen, 
 and every preparation was made to gratify the 
 sporting propensities of the men in the morn- 
 ing, and secure the gayer and more graceful 
 amusements for the ladies in the evening. 
 
 There seemed to INIortimer but one of two 
 courses to pursue. The neighbours certainly 
 " fought shy" of him, therefore his only line 
 was to withdraw within his own circle, and 
 exclude all those who did not seem to wish to 
 be included, while he contrived to make Sad- 
 grove celebrated for the gaiety and agreeable-
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 2S9 
 
 ness of its parties, the varied character of its 
 amusements, and so pique the " puritans" into 
 a regret that they had been so extremely fas- 
 tidious in the outset. 
 
 Helen certainly was not so much enchanted 
 with her rural position as she had anticipated ; 
 her natural disposition for sly satire and ridi- 
 cule found no materials to work upon, nor did 
 her mind exhibit any congeniality with those 
 pursuits which Mortimer had hoped might 
 render her an object of esteem and veneration 
 with the poorer neighbours. The oddness of 
 manner, the strangeness of accent, the mispro- 
 nunciation of words, or their misapplication 
 to any subject under discussion, into which 
 any of the poor people might be betrayed, 
 were beyond her power of resistance, and she 
 laughed outright, much to the discomfiture of 
 the rustics. In fact, her's was a London mind ; 
 and all her fancy for the country, mixed up as 
 it was with marriage and settlement, was little 
 else than an anxiety for change of place and 
 station, blest with the society of the man of 
 her heart.
 
 240 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 The clergyman of Sadgrove, a most exem- 
 plary man, was amongst those who had paid 
 a visit to the " hall." But, with all his piety 
 and all his zeal for doing good, he was no 
 beauty, and this fact destroyed all his merits 
 in Helen's eyes. It must be confessed that 
 he was what the people call an " object ; " and 
 so much did this operate to his disadvantage 
 with Mrs. Mortimer, that she could not trust 
 herself to discuss with him sundry matters 
 relative to Sunday schools and Infant schools, 
 and other establishments in the maintenance 
 of which he was particularly active, lest the 
 extraordinary cast of his countenance and the 
 peculiar tone of his voice should betray her 
 into some inadvertent breach of decorum most 
 unseemly under their relative circumstances. 
 
 Mortimer, however, considered it highly im- 
 portant to be extremely benevolent, and to be 
 seen frequently going about the village with the 
 reverend doctor, to consult him as to the best 
 mode of providing for both the spiritual and tem- 
 poral wants of his parishioners, and, by a mode- 
 rate sacrifice of time and money, acquire a good
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 241 
 
 name in his neighbourhood, or at all events to 
 do his possible to get rid of a bad one. 
 
 It ought not, however, to be concealed from 
 the reader that this life of effort and self- 
 reproach was one of anything but happiness 
 to Mortimer ; every word uttered by his friend 
 the Countess, which had reference to " other 
 days," grated upon his ears ; and his repent- 
 ance for having brought her into such imme- 
 diate contact with his young wife encreased 
 hourly, from the second or third day after their 
 domestication in Worcestershire. 
 
 Francis Blocksford, the lady's son, remained 
 only a short time at Sadgrove. His object being 
 to see England previous to entering at Oxford, 
 of which university he was destined to become 
 a future ornament, he proceeded, after a brief 
 sojourn, to London, where his uncle was resi- 
 ding, and to whose care he was consigned. 
 Ridiculous as it may appear, and unaccountable 
 as it may seem, Mortimer felt pleased at his 
 departure. He was a graceful, handsome fel- 
 low, and, although not more than seventeen, 
 a French education had given him the air of 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 the " world," and Helen was pleased with him 
 and liked him, and his high spirits made them 
 all laugh, and his good humour made them 
 enjoy his conversation ; but the affection and 
 admiration of Colonel Mortimer were not 
 altogether unqualified by a restlessness which, 
 if he had not been ashamed of the admission, 
 he might almost have fancied jealousy. 
 
 He was gone, however, leaving his " dear 
 Mrs. Mortimer" two of his drawings — for as an 
 artist, intei' alia, he excelled ; — and they were 
 framed and hung up in her boudoir. One was 
 a view of Sadgrove ; the other a view of the 
 Chateau de St. Alme, near Blois, the seat of 
 his most amiable and domestic father-in-law, 
 which the Mortimers had visited during their 
 excursion to Tours. 
 
 Upon what little things great things turn. 
 These drawings, and their hanging up, were 
 not much in themselves, but — 
 
 Well ! the answers to the numerous invi- 
 tations to shooting and all other sports M^ere 
 received, and all in the affirmative: the house 
 would be thronged, and gaiety would reign
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 243 
 
 universally, the spirit to invigorate and enliven 
 the hall being, as the wine-merchants say of 
 Madeira, all " London particular ;" and Mor- 
 timer rejoiced while he felt not only that the 
 dulness of Sadgrove but the particular inti- 
 macy of his wife and the Countess St. Alme 
 would be broken in upon. 
 
 One answer which was received to these bid- 
 dings we ought to give, inasmuch as it may 
 serve to let the reader into another portion of 
 our story, for which, however, he has in some 
 degree been prepared. Ecce ! 
 
 Grosvenor Street. 
 " Dearest Helen, Oct. 18— 
 
 " Nothing in this world can give me 
 greater pleasure than accepting your and Mor- 
 timer's invitation to Sadgrove. Tell him, I 
 like flint guns still ; I may be wrong, but I 
 tried caps and they brought on a degree of 
 deafness : the sharp snap produces this. I will, 
 however, not inflict upon him a poker, which, 
 as you know but little of the country, I may 
 be permitted to tell you such gentlemen as 
 your husband call a single-barrelled gun. 
 
 m2
 
 244 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 " But now, Helen ; — this entre nous — our 
 confidences have lasted long, and have never 
 been broken ; — what do you think ? — I want 
 you to ask two other persons besides myself — 
 inseparable from me now — Lady Melanie Thurs- 
 ton and her daughter — you remember them 
 everywhere. Lady Melanie posted upon every 
 sofa in the world with a sort of tiara on her 
 brow, looking like the figure-head of His 
 Majesty's ship ' Fury,' — enough to make one 
 sick, — pray, ask her, — she longs to go to you, 
 — she lives at 136, Harley Street: — her daugh- 
 ter is nice — very nice — make Mortimer pleased 
 with her. The old lady has a sort of western 
 circuit of friends, and it would suit her very 
 well ; and I really do not see why we might 
 not all go down together : — manage this. 
 
 *' I was delighted, after your letter from 
 Paris, to find that you were so soon coming 
 home, and I hope you find Sadgrove all you 
 expected and wished. I remember the Count- 
 ess St. Alme as Mrs. Blocksford ; she was 
 extremely handsome, and was a daughter of 
 an East-India Director, whose name I at this
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 245 
 
 moment forget — rather satirical — sharp — 
 and so on ; but if I don't mistake my Helen, 
 she is a match for her, at that sort of play. 
 
 " I am vexed to hear that you don't think 
 Mortimer well: as to his spirits, they fluc- 
 tuate with the weather ; naturally so, the more 
 mercurial they are. As for what you say 
 about shutting out the neighbours, let Mor- 
 timer do as he likes. 
 
 " I met poor Ellesmere the day before yester- 
 day. I really believe you did him a mortal in- 
 jury by refusing him : he seems an excellent per- 
 son, and has been very much distinguished by 
 a vote of thanks from some great county meet- 
 ing: for somethino; wonderful that he has done. 
 He is certainly not a Liberal in politics, but I 
 believe he spends five or six thousand a year in 
 doing good. I hope Magnus is agreeable, as I 
 hear he is all in all with Mortimer : the affair 
 at Mudbury has damaged him considerably 
 in his importance, and, as I am told, stops a 
 great deal of the swagger of his conversation ; 
 — he was certainly overreached there. 
 
 " As to uncle Jacob, he is unapproachable :
 
 246 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 not one bit will he advance towards reconcili- 
 ation ; and I fear that all my expectations of 
 an improvement in my affairs at his death, 
 which, according to the law of Nature, how- 
 ever much I may lament the event, will pro- 
 bably take place before mine, will vanish into 
 the ' levis aura/ However, dear child, you are 
 well placed, and put beyond any difficulty of 
 worldly circumstances — lucky for you. All 
 I speculate upon is, what Jacob will eventu- 
 ally do with his wealth. To give it to any- 
 body seems contrary to his principle, and to 
 leave it to any great national establishment 
 equally at variance with his love of self. One 
 thing is quite clear — neither you nor I, nor 
 Mortimer above all, have the slightest chance. 
 
 " Now then, Helen, do not forget Lady 
 Melanie Thurston and her daughter. The 
 infliction of a mother-in-law upon a lady who 
 is herself a wife is not much : — and so the 
 secret is out. You may tell it to Mortimer, 
 and the world will know it before long : — and so 
 recollect 1 cannot go to you without my friends. 
 
 " The enquiries after you by the few peo-
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 247 
 
 pie in London are really affectionate and kind ; 
 but, of course, we are but few at this time of 
 the year. There are, I believe, about four or 
 five hundred thousand nobodies jostling one 
 another in the City every day, doing what they 
 call ' business. "* Brother Jacob amongst the 
 number. But in these parts humanity is ex- 
 tremely scarce. Adieu ! dear Helen : best re- 
 gards to Mortimer, and believe me 
 
 " Affectionately yours, 
 
 " J. Batley." 
 
 " As I suspected," said Helen to herself — 
 " my dear Pappy is going to marry again. 
 Well, all my consolation is, that he did not 
 favour me with a commander-in-chief while / 
 was under his roof. Now we shall see what his 
 choice is; and as I could by no possibility re- 
 member my own dear mother, that choice will 
 give me an opportunity of judging of his taste. 
 Thank Heaven ! my chaperon. Lady Bern- 
 bridge, is not the apple-getting goddess ; for, 
 knowing what I do of her, my poor Pappy, 
 I am sure, would have been bored to death."
 
 248 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 To Mortimer the contents of this letter were 
 imparted, so far as concerned the special invi- 
 tation, but the letter itself was not thrown 
 down frankly and freely for his uncontrolled 
 perusal : — such was the restraint which thus 
 early in their union had been established, — 
 only by manner, — over the young wife's 
 conduct. 
 
 " Ask them?" said Mortimer, — '• to be sure, 
 my dear Helen. You know Lady Melanie 
 Thurston and her dauf^hter — have them down : 
 — let your father be pleased and he pleases 
 me: — besides that, Miss Thurston plays the 
 harp exceedingly well — the only fault of which 
 excellence is, her never knowing when to leave 
 off. However, as music is always a charming 
 excuse for general conversation, she will make 
 it lively: — have them, by all means." 
 
 Everything promised gaiety, and Mortimer 
 himself was gay, which was everything to 
 Helen. The presence of Magnus, she felt, was 
 a sort of weight upon her : he engrossed a 
 good deal of her husband's society, and the 
 solemn pomposity of his manner, and a sort of
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 249 
 
 command he evidently had over his host, acted 
 as, what is generally understood in the world to 
 be, a wet blanket. This, and a certain degree 
 of assumption on the part of the Countess St. 
 Alme, kept Helen in a kind of fever, although 
 as Magnus, who was a great ally of the Count- 
 ess, said, she had not only begun to bear with 
 her, if not to like her, but was really amused 
 by her vivacity, — all of which, be it recollect- 
 ed, (and it is never too early to date a feel- 
 ing destined to rankle,) Mortimer attributed 
 rather to her being the mother of the stripling 
 Blocksford, than the friend of his earlier days. 
 The mind is mysteriously framed ; and as 
 no two countenances (which are the indices of 
 minds) are alike, so no two minds exactly re- 
 semble each other. Mortimer, the once fol- 
 lowed and worshipped idol of his day — Jietri 
 to a certain extent — and, being at forty-five 
 or thereaway, a bridegroom, handsome beyond 
 dispute in person, his manly beauty mellowed 
 by time with tints which gave even better 
 effects to his classical features, shrank with 
 diffidence and suspicion from the bright beam- 
 
 M 5
 
 ^J 
 
 2o0 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 ing countenance of a handsome young man 
 who was his own godson ! Ay, there it was ! 
 — the affection which he could not fail to feel 
 for the son of the old and favourite friend of 
 his youth, was " sullied o"'er " with an envious 
 jealousy of the personal attractions of that 
 very individual, and in his mind the seed was 
 sown. He heard Francis Blocksford talk of his 
 own contemporaries as "old fellows of five-and- 
 forty " — and " old chaps of fifty " — and this 
 before his vivacious Helen, whose eyes, inno- 
 cently enough, God knows ! were fixed upon 
 the ingenuous countenance of the young Frank, 
 while he was unconsciously planting daggers 
 in the heart of the more matured Mortimer. 
 Ridiculous as this prejudice, — this littleness 
 may appear, it was registered in the heart of 
 the master of Sadgrove, and lay hidden smoul- 
 dering under the heap of anxieties which swel- 
 led it, ready to burst into a flame upon the 
 slightest provocation. 
 
 This incubus was removed, — this imaginary 
 peril was gone, but even then, Mortimer seem- 
 ed restored only to a negative degree of com-
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 251 
 
 placency. Magnus and he roamed about with 
 gloom upon their countenances, and St. Alme 
 in vain endeavoured to mingle in their morn- 
 ins: strolls, before the time arrived for shoot- 
 ing. There was something altogether uncom- 
 fortable in the menage; and what seemed to 
 render it most uncomfortable of all was, as 
 we have already seen, Mortimer's growing dis- 
 like of the perpetual association of his wife 
 and the Countess. 
 
 " I don't think," said the Countess St. Alme 
 to Helen upon one of these occasions, " that 
 Mortimer seems as happy as he ought to 
 
 be" 
 
 The calling him Mortimer did not quite 
 please Helen. 
 
 — " With you^ my dear Helen."" 
 
 That was not entirely agreeable. 
 
 — " He ought to be the happiest of men — 
 his fortune adequate to every luxury of the 
 world, and this place one of the nicest in the 
 kingdom — and with a wife " 
 
 " Oh ! Countess," said Helen. 
 
 " I am perfectly sincere, my dear Mrs. Mor-
 
 252 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 timer," said the Countess ; " I cannot imagine 
 anything wanting to make this place a perfect 
 paradise."" 
 
 " It is lovely,"" said Helen ; " and I am so 
 glad beyond all other things that we are not 
 worried by the visits of the people about the 
 county ; they would bore me to death : and then 
 their visits would be to be returned; and then 
 we should have to have them here at dinner, 
 and then have to go ten or fifteen miles through 
 dark nights and bad roads to dine with them. 
 I thought, before I was married, I should like 
 to have them to go to, for the sake of laughing 
 at them ; but I am ten times better pleased as 
 it is, especially as Francis is anxious to shut 
 them out.''"' 
 
 The Countess listened and looked, and won- 
 dered whether Helen were, in truth, uncon- 
 scious of the real state of the case, at the same 
 time half-inclined to enlighten her : upon this 
 point, however, she thought better ; and re- 
 solved to let her remain in a state of blissful 
 ignorance, into which she could not but choose 
 to wonder she had been left so long.
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 253 
 
 A few days, however, brought down the 
 town-bred guests, and very soon all Sadgrove 
 was filled with les braves convives^ Lord Wil- 
 liam this, Sir Harry that, Colonel one thing, 
 and Captain t'other thing, besides the Dowagers 
 and the Misters, and the Honourable Mis- 
 tresses, and the Lady Marys, and the Lady 
 Janes, and the guns and the valets, and the 
 maids and the men. Such a gathering never 
 had been seen there, since the death of the late 
 respected Algernon Mortimer, Esq., who slum- 
 bered in the family vault in the close-adjoining 
 church, and whose sporting performances in 
 other days were carried on in an extremely 
 different manner, and whose domestic arrange- 
 ments were wholly at variance with the present 
 free and easy proceedings of his most amiable 
 son and heir, now keeping " wassail " in the 
 ancient hall of his ancestors. 
 
 And then to see how the neighbours turn- 
 ed up their eyes and lifted up their hands 
 at the madcap pranks which the goodly com- 
 pany played. The boys of the village were 
 delighted with the skill and agility of the
 
 254 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 dandies, and the girls, especially the pretty 
 ones, amazed at their condescension. The 
 ladies made friends of all the cottagers, and 
 pets innumerable were found amongst the 
 neighbouring children. Everything was gaiety 
 and benevolence, good-humour and hilarity, 
 and nothino; could be more charmino: than 
 such gay doings at the mansion. But in the 
 midst of all this there were eyes watching, and 
 minds full of thought ; and however gay and 
 thoughtless the motley group of guests might 
 be, the master of Sadgrove was still ill at 
 ease. 
 
 " Mortimer," said the Countess St. Alme as 
 Francis was driving her in a phaeton to see 
 some coursing, " I am sure of one thing, and 
 you ought to be ashamed of yourself." 
 
 The abruptness of her manner startled her 
 companion, who almost hated her for being 
 the mother of his namesake. 
 
 " And why .^" said Mortimer. 
 
 " You are jealous of your young wife," 
 replied the vivacious lady, — " groundlessly 
 jealous — but jealous you are ; and besides
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 255 
 
 the ungenerous character of such a feeling, 
 consider its consequences." 
 
 " Jealous I" said Mortimer — " ridiculous ! 
 And who is the cause of this dreadful excite- 
 ment ?" — and he trembled for her answer ; so 
 thoroughly did he despise himself for harbour- 
 ing a feeling which he could not overcome, and 
 yet dared not to avow. 
 
 " Oh ! nobody in particular," said the 
 Countess, " your Helen will never give you 
 cause for that sort of jealousy : but you are 
 jealous of the whole world — of every man that 
 comes near her. I know every turn of your 
 mind; you watch her when she speaks — when 
 she looks. If she is talking to the most indif- 
 ferent person in the room, you seem to haunt 
 the spot where they are seated ; if she stroll out 
 of sight, even with my poor dear little ugly old 
 husband, out you go and follow them : — now 
 this is all wrong, Mortimer- If anything in 
 the world can spoil a fine ingenuous character, 
 such conduct as yours is sure to do it. Con- 
 scious of no ill intention, a young woman of 
 high spirt and candid disposition cannot fail
 
 256 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 to feel degraded and affronted by an implied 
 suspicion of her conduct, implied too in a 
 manner made evident to everybody with whom 
 she happens to come in contact." 
 
 " You mistake me, Countess," said Morti- 
 mer. " I admit that I feel a strong anxiety 
 about Helen in society, but not jealousy. She 
 has a habit of saying things which cut and 
 vi^ound, and this half unintentionally : in fact, 
 she does not know how to restrain herself — 
 vi'hat she thinks she speaks ; and now that she 
 is mine, I feel a certain degree of responsi- 
 bility : — I — in short, I am afraid of her com- 
 mitting herself." 
 
 " No, Mortimer," said the Countess, " ' lay 
 not that flattering unction to your soul."' Her 
 frankness and ingenuousness were, as you have 
 told me, what won you : it is not a fear that 
 they should offend, but a dread lest they might 
 please too much, that agitates you and keeps 
 you like a troubled spirit hovering near her; — 
 take my advice, — we have known each other 
 long enough to give me that privilege, — do not 
 let her fancy herself watched and suspected.
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 257 
 
 Poor Mr. Blocksford was addicted to some- 
 thing extremely like the course you are now 
 pursuing, — it never answers, Mortimer." 
 
 The conclusion to which the Countess came, 
 after citing her own case as one in point, was, 
 to say the least of it, whimsical ; and Mortimer 
 could not resist observing that, since the 
 Countess argued from experience, he would 
 endeavour to check a habit of which she ac- 
 cused him, but of the existence of which he 
 did not admit himself to be conscious. 
 
 To a man mistrustful of himself, rather than 
 of his young and fascinating wife, nothing is 
 so annoying as even the most frivolous allu- 
 sions to the most trifling circumstances made 
 by the early friends of the lady, they being 
 persons who, for all the husband knows, might 
 have been in other days aspirants for her hand. 
 
 " Do you remember," said Lord William, 
 <' my dear Mrs. Mortimer, that joke one even- 
 ing at Lady Summerville's, about you and the 
 pine-apple and the bouquet." 
 
 " Oh, perfectly," replied Mrs. Mortimer, "and 
 you on your knees like Romeo in the garden."
 
 258 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 " And the Ascot day," cried Sir Harry, 
 " when three hearts were broken at one blow." 
 
 " I never shall forget that ;" answered Mrs. 
 Mortimer, laughing exceedingly, " and to see 
 poor Lord Robert after the eclaircissement.'''' 
 
 " That was altogether a most agreeable ex- 
 cursion, Helen," said the Honourable Mrs. 
 Petherton, " I wonder you ever gave up blue 
 ribands after those verses — don't you remem- 
 ber.^" 
 
 " Oh ! perfectly," replied Mrs. Mortimer, 
 " I assure you I have got them perfectly safe, 
 — forj to say truth, they were very pretty." 
 
 " Is poor Tom dead, Mrs. Mortimer .?" 
 pathetically asks Sir Harry. 
 
 " Oh dear no ! " replies Mrs. Mortimer, 
 " on the contrary he is in Italy, married, and, 
 as the people say, well to do." 
 
 Now all these references to long by-gone 
 nothings kept Mortimer upon the rack ; the 
 ease and gaiety with which Helen, who of 
 course knew (which he did not) the real nature 
 and character of the circumstances and inci- 
 dents of which her friends were speaking, ap-
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 259 
 
 peared to him misplaced levity, and evidence 
 of a frivolity which pained him ; and then the 
 whole scene between his avowed rival Elles- 
 mere at Lady Saddington's, and Batley's letter 
 of recall after he had taken his departure for 
 the Continent recurred to his mind, and then, 
 gazing with a mingled feeling of delight and 
 doubt upon his laughing wife, he muttered 
 to himself Lord Tovvnley"'s opening question 
 in the play, "Why did I marry P" 
 
 The arrival of Helen's father and his friends 
 the Thurstons (mother and daughter) seemed 
 a favourable epoch at which Mortimer should 
 begin the correction of this scrutinizing habit ; 
 inasmuch as if, although Helen were yet un- 
 conscious of it, it were sufficiently evident to 
 attract the notice of others, Batley would in 
 all probability himself observe it. He, there- 
 fore, determined, for the next week at least, to 
 banish all solicitude, and enjoy if possible the 
 gaiety with which he had surrounded himself. 
 
 Batley, luckily, was in particularly high 
 spirits, and seemed to be in the highest degree 
 of favour with his ladies ; and when Mr. John
 
 2G0 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 chose to make the agreeable, nobody could bet- 
 ter succeed : — as he was now avowedly on his 
 promotion, there could be little doubt of the 
 activity of his exertions. 
 
 " Do you think her pretty, Helen ?" said Jack 
 to his daughter, speaking of Miss Thurston. 
 
 " Ye-es!" said Helen, "pretty, but gauche; 
 she seems always straining after effect; — her 
 harp is agreeable, but there is no feeling — none 
 of that soul-fraught energy which gives music 
 and everything else its real value to me.'''' 
 
 " Come, come, Helen," said Batley, " recol- 
 lect in her you see your future belle mere, and 
 I must insist upon your duty." 
 
 " Rely upon me," said Helen. " And when 
 is it to be, Pappy." 
 
 " Why the matter has not gone that length 
 yet," said the matured lover ; " I should say 
 a few days now would settle it." 
 
 "But you are accepted, I presume," said 
 Helen, with a kind of mock dignity and a pa- 
 
 tronising air. 
 
 " Oh !" said Jack, " that part of the story
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 261 
 
 is all understood. I have put the case hypo- 
 thetically, and Laura and her mother are, as 
 the people say, ' quite agreeable.' I think 
 that our domestication here for the next week 
 will afford the most favourable opportunity 
 imaginable of concluding the negotiations, and 
 it would be particularly agreeable to me to 
 receive the hand of so amiable a person under 
 the roof of her who has been so many years my 
 companion and my delight ; — entre nous^ Helen, 
 — not that I am worldly, — the young lady has 
 forty thousand pounds, besides the reversion 
 of Mamma's jointure when she dies." 
 
 " Why, you will be the envy of all the for- 
 tune-hunters in London !"" said Helen. 
 
 " Lady Bembridge is in her airs about it," 
 said Batley ; " she fancied herself the object 
 of my solicitude, but, as I say, Helen, a man 
 is so much younger for his years than a wo- 
 man, that it is but fair to make a due allow- 
 ance. Mortimer and you, for instance, are 
 admirably suited; — I, — to be sure, there is a 
 difference between Mortimer's age and mine,
 
 2()2 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 and I have what is erroneously called the ad- 
 vantage, but still Laura is older than ^om, and " 
 so that brings the matter all right." 
 
 " I wish," said Helen, " I could see Morti- 
 mer more lively ; as I wrote to you, he seems 
 to have something preying on his mind which 
 affects him more particularly here." 
 
 " Shall I tell you, Helen .?" said Jack : " I 
 have always made your confidence with an im- 
 plicit reliance on your natural good sense, and, 
 in what I am going to say, I only afford an . 
 additional proof of my estimation of your cha- 
 racter. You must not notice, nor care for, and 
 especially not notice to him, or let him see 
 that you do care for, the gloom about which 
 you speak ; it is connected with circumstances of 
 other days: — tell me, — has he been to church 
 yet.?" 
 
 " No!" said Helen, opening her bright 
 black eyes with an expression of wonder at the 
 question which was so unexpected and yet so 
 pertinent, " no ! but what of that.? — he has had 
 a cold ; besides, he went last week to Welsford 
 church, — and last Sunday "
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 263 
 
 " Hush, hush, ray Helen!" said Batley, 
 " never mind what other church he visits : I 
 speak only of tliis. You know, for I told you be- 
 fore you married him, all the circumstances of 
 his unfortunate affair with Lady Hillingdon ?" 
 
 " Ah!" said Helen, and those fine eyes 
 which erst brightened with surprise were raised 
 to heaven with an expression of painful regret, 
 " I thought of that, but—" 
 
 " Do not agitate yourself, my child," said 
 Batley, " nor fancy that any recollection of 
 Lady Hillingdon is to interfere with your en- 
 tire happiness and comfort ; all will be well in 
 time; but I know (for Magnus has told me) 
 the dread that Mortimer has of first visiting 
 the church here, — under the family pew of the 
 Mortimers lies buried the woman who sacri- 
 ficed everything for him. In the human mind 
 some one single circumstance of a long life 
 stands registered deeply and firmly, from which 
 the heart revolts as soon as it recurs. All the 
 wrongs Mortimer did, all the sacrifices he 
 made, all the punishment he has undergone, 
 all the sorrows he has felt, are summed up and
 
 264 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 concentered in that one spot, that one object. 
 If he could muster sufficient resolution once 
 to revisit that tomb, the spell would be broken, 
 and by degrees he would even derive conso- 
 lation from his visits to it." 
 
 " But, father," said Helen, " when you tell 
 me this, do you expect me to derive consola- 
 tion from tlie intelligence, or that my anxiety 
 about Mortimer is likely to be decreased by 
 knowing that his grief arises from the loss of 
 one to whom I am the unworthy successor?"" 
 
 " No, Helen, no !" said Batley, " you mis- 
 take the point of my observation upon his con- 
 duct. The struggle now going on in his mind 
 is not between regret for his former wife and 
 affection for you ; the conflict is merely with 
 regard to the one particular fact of what, in 
 common parlance, is called ' breaking the ice.' 
 Time will do this, but, as I tell you, I know 
 the state of his feelings upon this particular 
 point, and know also the dread he has of 
 making a scene before the congregation which 
 might result from an inconsiderate effort to 
 master these feelings prematurely."
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 265 
 
 It must be confessed that Helen after this 
 conversation was by no means more assured of 
 the transient nature of Mortimer's grief than 
 she was before it took place. In fact, she was 
 conscious of an absence of that entirety of af- 
 fection which, with all her characteristic enthu- 
 siasm, she had anticipated in marrying the 
 man of her heart ; and, although her father 
 might have arrived at a time of life when mere 
 worldly considerations are supposed to in- 
 fluence what the Morning Post would call the 
 " votaries of Hymen," she felt rather sorry 
 than pleased that her vernal parent had given 
 her so sad a clue to the abstraction of her 
 absent husband. 
 
 Batley, however, rallied her into a smiling 
 humour, and left her to dress, with an injunc- 
 tion not to take the slightest notice of Morti- 
 mer's melancholy or its cause ; and, added he, 
 as he whisked himself out of his daughter's 
 boudoir, " Don't make a particular cojifidante 
 of the Countess St. Alme." 
 
 This last hint, coupled with the tone of the 
 Countess's innuendoes as to Mortimer, sent 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 Helen to her dressing-room with thoughts and 
 feehngs which ought not to fill the bosom of 
 a noble-minded girl less than three months 
 
 niarr 
 
 ied.
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 267 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The conversation which Helen had held 
 with her animated parent was by no means 
 calculated to tranquillize her mind. As far as 
 expounding to her the cause of Mortimer''s 
 gloom and restlessness, it was, however, to a 
 certain extent, satisfactory ; for although a 
 knowledge of the strength of his feelings for 
 another, might not be particularly gratifying, 
 still it relieved her from all apprehension that 
 she was herself the cause of his melancholy 
 and disorder. 
 
 Her father''s caution about the Countess 
 troubled her : she had, to please and gratify 
 Francis, forced herself to like her; she had 
 become familiarized with the hrusquerie and 
 abruptness of her manner ; and if she had not 
 made her a confidante, she felt no dislike to her 
 
 n2
 
 268 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 society. Once or twice, when speaking of Mor- 
 timer, Helen thouglit she perceived a desire 
 on her part to refer more particularly to the 
 history of his early life than was either neces- 
 sary or agreeable, and an expression of won- 
 der why he should permit the recollection of 
 the past to mar the brightness of the present. 
 
 "iVJy course," said Helen to herself, " is 
 clear : doing no wrong, what have I to appre- 
 hend .'' This sadness of Mortimer's will wear 
 off in time : I will neither question him about 
 it, nor even appear conscious of its existence, 
 but endeavour, by making everything around 
 us as gay and cheerful as possible, to rescue 
 him, as 1 hope, from its influence.'" 
 
 This admirable and wise determination, 
 however, was more difficult of execution than 
 Helen, in the innocence of her heart, imagined. 
 Even the vivacious society of her father, which 
 was particularly agreeable to Mortimer, failed 
 of producing its wonted effect ; his mirth seem- 
 ed misplaced ; his " gallant, gay " proceedings 
 now appeared to Mortimer almost ridiculous ; 
 and he felt an awkwardness, — a difference.
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 269 
 
 in fact, — in the mode and topics of their con- 
 versations, which, unlike their intercourse in 
 other days, were seldom reduced to a ttle-a- 
 tke. Jack, who was sufficiently quick and 
 alive to passing circumstances, saw the change, 
 and felt it ; but attributing it to the one 
 " great cause" which he had established in 
 his mind, and communicated to Helen, it had 
 but Httle effect upon him, and he rattled and 
 flirted and fluttered away, with more than his 
 usual activity. 
 
 " Pray, Helen," said Mortimer, " as I pre- 
 sume you to be in your father's confidence, 
 which of the two ladies down here under his 
 patronage is the object of his ambition — the 
 mother or the daughter ?" 
 
 " How can you ask, my dear Francis ?" said 
 Helen. " If my dear Pappy were to hear you 
 imatjine a doubt, he would die of the shock : 
 — the daughter, to be sure." 
 
 " Oh !" replied Mortimer — " then he is not 
 so wise a person as I supposed : — true, the 
 mother's jointure reverts to Miss Laura at her 
 death, but ■ "
 
 270 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 *' Laura," said Helen, " is not so young as 
 she looks, and I think will make a very respect- 
 able mother-in-law." 
 
 " I think her detestable !"" said Mortimer. 
 '• Flippancy and pertness in a woman are qua- 
 lified in a certain degree by youth and beauty ; 
 but when the one is past, and the other does 
 not exist, an ofT-hand tone of superiority, such 
 as Miss Thurston thinks proper to assume, is, 
 at least to we, exceedingly offensive." 
 
 " Her mistake is excusable, Francis, even 
 upon your own principle," said Helen ; " for 
 she does not consider herself old, nor think 
 herself plain." 
 
 " Well," said Mortimer, " self-deception is 
 a vice, or folly, — whichever you please, — of 
 a most extensive character, if a woman of her 
 age and appearance can still believe herself 
 what she so decidedly is not. I confess, if 
 for my sins I were condemned to be chained 
 to either of them, the dowager would be my 
 choice." 
 
 " Papa," said Helen, " prefers the lesser 
 evil."
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 271 
 
 " Evil, indeed !" said Mortimer with a sigh, 
 and then relapsed into one of those fits of 
 abstraction, from which Helen did not venture 
 to awaken him. 
 
 " I shall not shoot to-day," said Francis 
 after a pause of a few minutes ; " Magnus 
 and I are going to ride over to Worcester. I 
 will go, however, before we start, and make 
 arrangements for those who like to go out, and 
 you will make your party for the morning as 
 you please." 
 
 " Are you going on business, Francis ?'' said 
 Helen. 
 
 " Why, yes," replied Francis, " partly on 
 business, — but we shall be back long before 
 dinner ; so try and live without me for a few 
 hours." 
 
 These words, accompanied as they were by 
 a " chaste salute," were delivered in a tone by 
 no means agreeable to Helen's ear ; and what 
 made them still less acceptable was, that by an 
 almost unconscious feeling they became mys- 
 teriously associated in her mind with the con- 
 versation she had had with the Countess St.
 
 272 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 Alme, as to Francis's insensibility to the value 
 of the treasure which he possessed in Aer." 
 
 " I will try," said Helen ; " but, dear Fran- 
 cis, it will be a trial, for when can I be so 
 happy here as when you are here too." 
 
 " Ha, ha !" said Francis, " you are a dear, 
 good girl, and, if the world does not spoil you, 
 will mellow down into a most domestic wife : 
 — only," added he, "don't cry; don't dim 
 those bright black eyes by weeping, even if 
 Magnus and I should be too late for dinner. 
 I should have felt some compunctious visitings 
 in leaving you to manage the wide world of 
 a country-house ' all alone by yourself,' but 
 as ' Pappy,' as you call him, is here, he will 
 relieve you from all that embarrassment ; he 
 can make himself ' at home' anywhere." 
 
 And the tone in which these words were 
 spoken was not harmonious. The remarks of 
 the Countess again flashed into her mind. — 
 " What on earth has made him dissatisfied 
 with me or my father ?^'' thought Helen. " My 
 father is a cleverer man than Francis ; my 
 father is"
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 273 
 
 Hold, temper, hold ! Has the adored Mor- 
 timer, the admired of all admirers, already 
 sunk thus in the estimation of his wife? It is 
 not doubt of his affection that has produced 
 all this ; it is, first, an air of command which 
 he has assumed, a superiority which a woman 
 of ardent mind and feelings cannot brook ; 
 this combined with his abstraction and grief 
 — and ail this again with the Countess's ob- 
 servations — and all this again and again with 
 her father's injunction, not to make a confidante 
 of the Countess. AVell ! 
 
 '* Yes, Francis," said Helen, " my father is a 
 very agreeable person, and you always thought 
 him so; and I believe your first beginning to 
 like me was, because you esteemed and admired 
 him ; that is my pride and pleasure." 
 
 " Who upon earth, Helen, said or thought 
 I did not !"" said Mortimer. " I merely ob- 
 served, — and unless you were disposed to 
 quarrel, my observation would have passed 
 unnoticed except by a laugh, that your father 
 made himself at home everywhere. I meant 
 nothing offensive ; and certainly, if there be 
 
 N 5
 
 274 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 any house in England where he may do that 
 most effectively, it is in this, where his daugh- 
 ter is mistress, and rules all hearts."" 
 
 Again, the sneering manner of Francis wor- 
 ried Helen, but she felt herself above the in- 
 fluence of anger — she never fiad felt anger 
 towards Francis — and above the reach of any- 
 thing, strange to say ! except the observation 
 of the Countess St. Alme, — " He does not 
 value you ; he does not know the worth of 
 the treasure he possesses." 
 
 Poor Helen ran over in her mind all the 
 things she had said and done which could have 
 ji^ been likely to excite Mortimer's ill-temper, of 
 
 which she began to fear he possessed some- 
 what more than an average quantity, but she 
 could tax herself with nothing. Did her live- 
 liness offend him ? — impossible ! because he 
 himself had spoken, if not harshly, at least 
 strongly, as to his suspicions that the liveliness 
 of the Countess St. Alme was objectionable to 
 her. She had been civil to his friends and 
 guests ; she had, and he knew her motive, 
 endeavoured to make the place gay ; nor did
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 275 
 
 he exhibit anything but the greatest kindness 
 to her in company, — as we have already said, 
 perhaps a somewhat too watchful kindness in 
 its way. The real misfortune of the match 
 was, — and she began to discover it thus soon, 
 however much too late it might be, — that Mor- 
 timer, who as a " dandy" of some twenty years 
 before had established a character for talent and 
 accomplishment, founded chiefly upon buoyant 
 spirits and a fine person, did not, in point of 
 fact, however much he might deceive himself 
 into the belief that he did, possess one single 
 attribute likely to attract or chain a mind 
 like Helen's. 
 
 Well then, when to this unfortunate incon- 
 gruity and want of sympathy were superadded 
 the gnawing regret and cankering remorse, on 
 the part of Mortimer, for deeds of other days, 
 it did not seem very unnatural that he — 
 also too late — discovered that his project for 
 reform and regeneration, into a new life of 
 domestic happiness and respectability, was not 
 so likely to turn out well as he had antici- 
 pated. There certainly was something in his
 
 276 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 manner as he left Helen upon this occasion 
 which was painful in the extreme to her. 
 
 What still increased this feeling, — al- 
 though she dreaded to inquire or know more 
 of the cause of his strange behaviour than 
 developed themselves so disagreeably on the 
 surface, — was, the admonition of her father 
 as to the Countess, who certainly had excited 
 a feeling in Helen's breast, not perhaps a 
 strong one, by throwing out hints that Mor- 
 timer was not so happy as he ought to be in 
 his domestic circle. Helen resolved to dress 
 her bright beautiful countenance in smiles; 
 and when she rejoined the party nobody could 
 have guessed what was passing in her mind, 
 unless perhaps it was the Countess St. Alme 
 herself, who, when the mistress of the mansion 
 announced that its master was going on an ex- 
 cursion that morning, accompanied by Colonel 
 Magnus, and that she should be sole monarch 
 of the day, gave her a look which she felt was 
 understood, and which implied that even with 
 a host of friends about him there was some- 
 thing more attractive out of Sadgrove than in
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 277 
 
 it. Helen saw the glance, and felt its import 
 and influence; but dashing away the black ring- 
 lets from her snowy forehead, as if typical of 
 casting from her mind all dark thoughts, she 
 turned from the scrutinizing eye of the more 
 than half Frenchwoman to the smiling coun- 
 tenances of her other visiters, in order to make 
 the essential arrangements for putting them all 
 into motion in the most agreeable possible 
 manner to themselves. 
 
 Batlev, as far as he was concerned, proposed 
 having the negative satisfaction of remaining 
 " at home ;" for, according to Mortimer's just 
 view of his character, so did he designate Sad- 
 grove. Helen soon discovered his reason for 
 this announcement of his domestication ; Laura 
 Thurston had got the head-ache, — Lady Mela- 
 nie would stay with her. Batley saw in the 
 head-ache a ruse, because, Batley's own ways 
 being tortuous, he never believed that anybody 
 ever said or did anything without a motive. 
 He had expressed a sort of half intention at 
 breakfast of not shooting, — Laura after break- 
 fast had a head-ache, — " put that and that
 
 278 BIRTHS^ DEATHS, 
 
 together," (as the wicked woman said to the red- 
 nosed Justice, it makes something,) and, accord- 
 ingly, Batley, the Evergreen Batley, found, in 
 the sudden announcement of the young lady's 
 (young perhaps by courtesy) painful malady, 
 more of sympathy than sickness, and that she 
 had merely fashioned her complaint to the 
 purpose of the moment, and having, as he 
 conceived, previously given sundry indications 
 of a desire to come to an explanation of his 
 views and intentions, considered that day, when 
 he was not to be out, a fitting opportunity 
 for him to make his declaration. 
 
 There is nothing in the world so curious to 
 look at as the mind of a cunning man, — not a 
 conjurer, but a man who thinks he is carrying 
 on his schemes, and manoeuvring and keeping 
 everybody else in the dark as to his designs and 
 intentions. Addison says that *' cunning is 
 only the mimic of discretion, and may pass 
 upon weak men, in the same manner as vivacity 
 is often mistaken for wit, and gravity for wis- 
 dom." When Batley heard of the head-ache, 
 his cunning made him certain of his point, and
 
 AND MARRIAGES, 279 
 
 he smirked and simpered proportionably ; al- 
 though, in fact, whatever might have been 
 Miss Thurston's opinion of, and feelings to- 
 wards him, the poor thing had a real bona 
 Jide head-ache. Batley's own constant prac- 
 tice of the art in which he thought himself an 
 adept, and in the exercise of which he preferred 
 getting at an easily attained object by a cir- 
 cuitous road than by a short one, convinced 
 him that this was a plan, that the heart of the 
 lady was more affected than the head, and that 
 this day was to be the day " big with the fate'' 
 of himself and Laura. 
 
 What the object of Mortimer's visit to Wor- 
 cester might be, Helen no further sought to 
 know ; nor would she have cared about it, but 
 for the look of that Countess who became a 
 greater object of interest in her eyes since 
 Pappy had warned her not to make a friend 
 of her. 
 
 There is an old story, which has been very 
 often told, of a man, probably something like 
 Mortimer, who had married a girl something 
 like Helen, and who had a friend probably
 
 280 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 something like Magnus, and the friend was 
 sceptical somewhat as to the obedient tendency 
 of the young wife's disposition, much to the 
 dissatisfaction of the Benedick, who strongly 
 asserted and warmly asseverated that his will 
 Avas law, and that she never by any chance dis- 
 obeyed any wish or injunction of his. 
 
 " Have you ever tried her temper in that 
 respect ?" said the friend : " have you ever 
 positively desired her not to do any particular 
 thing ? for that is my point, since you tell me 
 she never refuses to do whatever you desire 
 her to do." 
 
 " No ! ■" said the affectionate husband, " I 
 never have found occasion to desire her not to 
 do anything, but — " 
 
 " That 's it ! as the old women say,'' cried 
 the friend, " female obedience is proved by 
 negatives ; tell her not to do any particular 
 thing, give her no particular reason why, and 
 see if she does not do it." 
 
 " Ridiculous !" says the husband. 
 
 " Try !" says the friend. 
 
 " Well," replies the husband, " agreed !
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 281 
 
 we are both going away for the day :'* — just 
 as Mortimer and Magnus were, — " what proof 
 shall I put her to ? what shall I tell her not to 
 do ? may she not play her harp ? must she not 
 sing, or draw ? or, in fact, tell me what you 
 want me to prohibit her doing, and I stake my 
 life she does it not." 
 
 " Oh no!" said the friend, " drawing, and 
 singing, and playing the harp are things which 
 she might abstain from without a murmur, or, 
 what is more essential to the affair, a wonder ; 
 because she has sung, and played, and drawn 
 a thousand times; it is an injunction not to do 
 something she never has done before, — for in- 
 stance, tell her when we go, not to climb some 
 particular hill, for particular reasons which 
 you do not choose to give her ; or, by way of 
 carrying the principle out to its fullest extent, 
 warn her not to attempt to ride on Neptune's 
 back." 
 
 " Neptune's back !" said the husband. 
 " Yes !" replied the friend, " on the back 
 of this most valued Newfoundland dog, the 
 bravest and faithfullest of his breed."
 
 282 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 " Ride on a dog's back !" exclaimed Be- 
 nedick, " how can you be so absurd ? — as 
 if " 
 
 " Ah ! there it is," said the friend, " as if, 
 — now, take my word for it, if you issue the 
 injunction without giving her any reason, 
 Harriet will break it." 
 
 The most incredulous of men rejoiced at 
 the idea, which he felicitously ridiculed, and 
 resolved upon trying the experiment in order 
 to establish his Harriet's superiority of mind, 
 and his friend's exceeding silliness. 
 
 He parted from his Harriet, and with tender 
 fondness she clung round his shoulder, as he 
 said in quitting her, 
 
 " Harriet, dearest, we have seldom been 
 separated since our marriage, — I shall be 
 back soon — take care of yourself, love, — but, 
 just attend to one thing I am going to say 
 dear, don't try to ride upon Neptune's back 
 while we are away." 
 
 " What!" said the laughing Harriet, " ride 
 upon Neptune, — ha, ha, ha ! what an odd idea ! 
 — is that all you warn me against .'' — why, what
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 283 
 
 a ridiculous notion ! why should you tell me 
 that? What nonsense !"" 
 
 '* That, my dear,"" said the husband, " is a 
 secret ; all I beg of you is, not to ride upon 
 Neptune.*' 
 
 " Ride upon Neptune !" repeated the lady, 
 and she laughed again, and they parted. 
 
 When Benedick and his friend returned to 
 dinner, the laughing Harriet did not as usual 
 present herself to receive them ; there was a sort 
 of gloom pervading the house; the footman who 
 opened the door looked dull ; the butler who 
 came into the hall looked as white as his waist- 
 coat ; the lady''s own maid rushed down stairs 
 evidently to prevent a scene. 
 
 " Where is your mistress?" said Benedick. 
 
 " Up-stairs, sir !" said the maid, " there is 
 nothing the matter, sir, — nothing in the world, 
 sir, — only my mistress has had a fall, — quite a 
 little fall on the walk in the flower garden, — 
 and has cut her face, the least bit in the world, 
 sir ; all will be well in a couple of days. 
 
 « A fall !" said Benedick. 
 " Humph !" said his friend.
 
 28 i BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 And up-stairs ran the anxious husband. 
 
 " What has happened ? "" exclaimed he, 
 catching her to his heart, and seeing her beau- 
 tiful countenance a little marred, — " how did 
 this happen ?" 
 
 Harriet cried, and hid her face. 
 
 The explanation never came altogether clear- 
 ly before the friend or the family ; but the acci- 
 dent was generally thought to have arisen from 
 Harriet's havino; endeavoured to take a ride 
 upon Neptune's back. 
 
 The Countess St. Alme was the Neptune of 
 Sadgrove ; the warning Helen had received, 
 coupled with the other odd circumstances 
 which have been already noticed, excited the 
 fated lady of the mansion to increase rather 
 than diminish the intimacy which already exist- 
 ed between them ; and, resolving to lose no 
 time in ascertaining the justice of the paternal 
 admonition, proposed, as one of the arrange- 
 ments of that very morning, to drive the 
 Countess in the pony phaeton herself. 
 
 Thus while the daughter had determined 
 to try the temper of her friend, the father
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 285 
 
 had decided to essay his fortune with the ob- 
 ject of his choice ; and a very nice morning"'s 
 work it was, all things considered. 
 
 There is an axiom, for the perfect truth of 
 which every living man and many living wo- 
 men can safely vouch ; and this axiom says 
 quaintly enough "• Wrong never comes right." 
 No community in the known world could be 
 better cited in illustration of its wisdom than 
 the little circle at Sadgrove ; the errors and 
 indiscretions of foregone days cast their bale- 
 ful influence over even the healthiest branches 
 of the family tree ; and as it is invariably the 
 case that one falsehood begets ten thousand, so 
 the delicacies and difficulties connected with the 
 occurrences of Mortimer's earlier life led to a 
 series of little tricks and unworthy manoeuvres 
 which were considered necessary to keep the 
 blemishes out of sight. 
 
 The drive, however, took place ; and Mrs. 
 Mortimer, having parcelled out her party, and 
 paired those who wished to be together, with 
 all the bienseance of London life, started with 
 her friend on their little expedition.
 
 ■"J 
 
 286 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 " What," said the Countess, " has taken 
 Francis to Worcester ?"" 
 
 The recurrence of her husband's christian 
 name in the conversation of her fair friend at 
 all times sounded harsh and discordant, and 
 to-day particularly so ; probably, because the 
 time and manner in which the question was 
 put seemed almost indescribably to tally with 
 the spirit and expression of Mortimer's remarks 
 upon her father previous to his departure. 
 
 *' I have not an idea," said Helen ; " I never 
 presume to enquire into his proceedings." 
 
 " I suppose he and his friend*'' (with a par- 
 ticular emphasis) " have some very interesting 
 engagement." 
 
 " I believe they are gone on business," said 
 Helen, wishing to stop the course of the en- 
 quiry, which, although she disdained to show 
 it, agitated and annoyed her. 
 
 " What business they can have at Worces- 
 ter," said the Countess, " except to buy you a 
 service of porcelain, a packet of gloves, or a 
 pocket of hops, I cannot guess : perhaps they 
 are gone to visit some friend of other days. By
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 287 
 
 the way, dear — did Francis ever show you 
 his picture of Amelia ? — it was a wonderfully 
 fine likeness. 
 
 " No ! " said Helen, and her voice faltered, — 
 she thought the question rather extraordinary, 
 and strangely timed ; she was not surprised 
 that he never had shown it to her, and yel now 
 she felt discontented that he had not, since he 
 knew she was aware of all the circumstances 
 connected with his first marriage. 
 
 " You have seen her monument, Helen," 
 said the Countess. 
 
 " No!" said Helen. 
 
 " It is immediately at the back of your 
 pew," said the Countess ; " I wonder you 
 never noticed it." 
 
 " I seldom notice anything at church, Count- 
 ess," said Helen. 
 
 " Oh !" replied the Countess, " I am quite 
 aware of your devotion, of the abstraction 
 which it induces, and all that ; but I should 
 have thought you would have felt an interest 
 irt looking at that, apart from idle curiosity :•— 
 shall we go there now ? — do, — I should like
 
 S8S BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 you to see it ; it is in the best possible taste, 
 and I think Francis will be pleased to know 
 that you liave seen it."" 
 
 Helen was extremely puzzled how to act ; 
 she felt a dread of complying with her compa- 
 nion's suggestions, and a fear of opposing them. 
 She thouoht she should like to see the monu- 
 ment, but she thought that Francis would be 
 displeased by her visiting it with the Countess, 
 or rather, without Jiim, since he had never 
 referred to the subject which, nevertheless, she 
 was told, was nearest his heart. 
 
 " No!" said Helen; " 1 differ with you 
 there Countess ; if Mortimer w ished me to see 
 the monument, he would either have spoken of 
 it to me, or shown it me himself." 
 
 " He would give the world to do so," said 
 the Countess, " but he cannot muster sufficient 
 resolution to look at it ; if once that struggle 
 were over, he would again visit the church as 
 usual, his absence from which is not calculated 
 to allay the ])rejudice which exists against him 
 in the neighbourhood. 
 
 " Is there a prejudice against hims"' said
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 289 
 
 Helen, listening with fearful anxiety to her 
 companion, who seemed of late to take especial 
 pleasure in detracting from Mortimer's merits. 
 
 " Prejudice !" said the Countess ; " why, my 
 dear Helen, you are not blind to that ? what 
 else makes Sadgrove as much a desert as it was 
 in the time of its late mistress ? not one of the 
 county people come near it." 
 
 " No!" said Helen, " because Mortimer 
 declines their society, which bores him, and 
 prefers that in which he delights." 
 
 " And does he really make you believe all 
 this ?■" said the Countess : " ptay, my dear girl, 
 how has he manifested his disinclination to 
 receive them in his house ? have they ever made 
 any advances for him to repulse ?" 
 
 " As for my part," said Helen, " I hate 
 neighbours, and I hate travelling about to dull 
 distant dinners and dowdy dances, — so I have 
 told him, and for that reason "" 
 
 " — He would no doubt decline the civilities 
 of the county people," said the Countess, " if 
 they were offered; but no — even the family of the 
 clergyman, so much here as he is on business with 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 290 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 Francis, have confined their attentions to a call 
 when they were certain you were out, which you 
 and I returned when they were not at home." 
 
 " I know," said Helen, " Francis told me, 
 he thought it best not to invite them here." 
 
 " — Because," said the Countess St. Alme, 
 " he could not have borne the mortification of 
 
 a negative answer." 
 
 " Not the least !" exclaimed Helen, in a vin- 
 dicatory tone ; " they would be too happy to 
 come, but he thought it better to postpone the 
 invitation till some of our London guests were 
 gone, and that, partly at my suggestion ; for 
 I declare, good as he is, and all that sort of 
 thing, there is something so eminently absurd 
 in the countenance of the worthy doctor, that I 
 dread a day of them."*"' 
 
 "Well, then!" said the Countess, "you 
 will not go to see the tomb this morning .?" 
 
 " No!" said Helen, " on Sunday after 
 church I will look at it, and will tell Francis 
 that I have looked at it ; I have no disguises 
 from Aim." 
 
 " Poor dear girl !" said the Countess, in a
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 291 
 
 tone which could not be mistaken : — " here, 
 I declare, is 3'our most excellent parent and the 
 Thurstons taking a particularly domestic-look- 
 ing ride, after all the history of the head-ache 
 and staying at home, — it would be the height 
 of barbarity to join them, therefore turn short 
 to the left, down this lane, and leave them to 
 their interesting conversation." 
 
 Helen did as she was bid, not that she would 
 have been at all sorry if the interesting conver- 
 sation in which she herself was engaged with 
 her companion had been put an end to. As, 
 however, she felt that it would, " under exist- 
 ing circumstances," be more agreeable to her 
 father to be left with his companions to pur- 
 sue their ramble, the ponies were wheeled round 
 and trotted away as fast as they could patter 
 along a beautifully wooded road which Helen 
 had never before traversed. Emerging from the 
 trees which shaded the first part of it, they came 
 upon a sort of terrace cut along the side of a 
 gently rising hill and overhanging the Severn, 
 which rippled and glittered at their feet most 
 beautifully . 
 
 o2
 
 292 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 " What an extremely pretty drive !" said 
 Helen. " I think our meeting papa was quite 
 a fortunate event, since it sent us in this 
 direction," 
 
 " Have you never been this road before ?" 
 said the Countess. 
 
 " No," replied Helen, " I seldom attempt 
 to explore ; I keep the beaten tracks." 
 
 " — But did Francis never bring you this 
 way ?" said the Countess. 
 
 " No," replied Helen. 
 
 " You surprise me,"" said the Countess ; — 
 " but, to be sure, it is all part of the same 
 delusion. Drive on, and when we come to 
 that gate on the left you must turn in, and you 
 will see one of the prettiest spots in the whole 
 of Sadgrove." 
 
 Helen again obeyed the instructions of her 
 guide ; and when they reached the gate, and 
 the servant rode forward to open it, the Count- 
 ess, whose free and easy manner in command- 
 ing every member of the household was more 
 remarkable than agreeable to Mrs. Mortimer,
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 293 
 
 enquired of the man, " if he knew where the 
 key was ?" 
 
 " They keep it, my lady,"" said the man, 
 " at Willis's farm-house." 
 
 " Go forward then and get it," said the 
 Countess, " and we will drive round by the 
 shrubbery and meet you." 
 
 A touch of the brim of his hat was Ste- 
 phens's practical reply, and off he cantered 
 towards Willis's farm. 
 
 " What place are we going to ?"" said Helen, 
 who saw directly that it must be some very 
 well known endroit, from the manner in which 
 its key was spoken of, and the knowledge 
 which the man possessed as to the place of its 
 keeping. 
 
 " I '11 not tell you till you see it, dear," 
 said the Countess ; " I like to surprise people 
 sometimes. Go on — drive gently — and here 
 to the right, into that copse, and down this 
 tonnelle — it is rather steep : — but is it not 
 charming, — those little glimpses of the river 
 shining through the underwood.'' — Now, now
 
 294> BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 to the left — and there !" exclaimed the Count- 
 ess in a tone of ecstasy, as the little phaeton 
 stood in front of a picturesque building which 
 she announced to Helen as " The Fishing- 
 House." 
 
 So well did the Countess know the country, 
 that Stephens, and an old woman from Willis's 
 farm with the key of this Fishing-House, reach- 
 ed the spot at the moment of their arrival. 
 With curtsies most respectful, and that flurry 
 which an unexpected visit always causes in 
 humble life, the poor old body, with trembling 
 hand, applied the key to the door. 
 
 " I am so sorry, madam," said she : " this 
 is almost the only day this year I haven't 
 regularly opened the Fishing-House in the 
 morning; but to-day — dear, dear me — lam 
 so sorry ! I won't be a minute opening the 
 shutters, — deary me !" 
 
 " Oh !" said the Countess, who always took 
 the lead, " don't hurry yourself, we will get 
 out of the carriage and walk round to the ter- 
 race, and by that time you will have got it 
 all ready for us. Come, Helen, dear, — let us
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 295 
 
 leave the phaeton here, and I will take you 
 through the prettiest flower-garden in all the 
 world." 
 
 Helen wondered, but almost instinctively 
 obeyed her guest. 
 
 " How extremely beautiful this is !"" said 
 Helen. 
 
 " I thought you would admire it," said the 
 Countess. " Come — this way." 
 
 And she led her through one of the sweetest 
 and gayest parterres that ever bloomed, to a 
 straight terrace-walk of no great extent, but 
 which led to what might be considered the 
 front entrance of the building. By the time 
 they had reached it, the poor old body had got 
 the shutters opened, and was assiduously em- 
 ployed in dusting this and putting right that, 
 labouring under all the horrors of an imputa- 
 tion of neglect of duty. 
 
 The Fishing-House consisted of a circular 
 room divided into six compartments, in three 
 of which were windows overhanging the river. 
 In the one opposite to the centre window was a 
 fire-place, on either side of which, occupying
 
 296 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 the remaining two compartments, was a door ; 
 one led to a kitchen and offices, and the other 
 to a suite of apartments containing a sleeping- 
 room, and a boudoir or dressing-room, as the 
 case might be. The view from it was exqui- 
 site, and there was a brightness and a clearness 
 sparkling around it, and a stillness and sere- 
 nity within it, which might have made the 
 greatest and gayest sigh and say, 
 
 " If there 's peace to be found in the world, 
 
 A heart that is humble might hope for it here." 
 
 But no: — the repose and tranquillity which 
 its natural attributes offered to its visiters 
 were destined neither for humble hearts nor 
 proud ones. The thatch which covered this 
 " gentility-aping " cottage, as Mr. Southey has 
 it, was a mere superficial coating to its well- 
 slated roof, and as little indicated the resi- 
 dence of happiness within, as the humble bear- 
 ing of its master towards his dependents exhi- 
 bited the real temper of his mind. The place 
 was lovely — the furniture and decorations, 
 though appropriate, elegant and convenient;
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 297 
 
 and as Helen cast her eyes around it, the 
 
 Countess whispered- 
 
 " Is it not strange that you should not 
 have been here before ?" 
 
 " Does it belong to Francis ?" said Helen. 
 " Belong to him !" said the Countess, " why, 
 my dear love, it used to be his principal resi- 
 dence when " 
 
 " — I understand," said Helen, who thought 
 she observed the old woman somewhat atten- 
 tively listening to the remarks of the Countess. 
 " I concluded you had been here,"" said the 
 amiable lady, " or I should have proposed a 
 drive hither a week ago." 
 
 " No," said Helen, feeling her cheeks burn 
 with humiliation that she should have been 
 indebted to her friend for the induction into so 
 lovely and so popular a portion of her domain. 
 The Countess saw what was passing in 
 Helen's mind. 
 
 " Why, my dear," said she, " this used to be 
 the favourite retreat of her who is gone ; and 
 here Francis and she passed, during the sum- 
 mer months, the greatest portion of their time : 
 
 5
 
 298 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 indeed, the view which it commands is so much 
 more beautiful and extensive than that from the 
 house, that to one to whom seclusion was na- 
 tural it must have been extremely agreeable." 
 
 *' It is beautiful !" said Helen. 
 
 " Since you were here last, ma'am," said the 
 old woman addressing the Countess, " mt/ old 
 man has cut down them two larches there at 
 the end of the walk, which lets in the view of 
 the church tower, as you said it would." 
 
 " Yes," said the Countess, looking remark- 
 ably confused, " Yes — I recollect — yes — it is a 
 great improvement." 
 
 " We did not expect to see you so soon 
 again, ma'am," continued the unsophisticated 
 rustic, " or we would have had that hedge-row 
 clipped, as you desired." 
 
 " Oh !" said the Countess, " it looks very 
 well as it is."" 
 
 " What !" said Helen, " have you been here 
 lately .?" 
 
 " About — how long is it since ?" said the 
 Countess to the old woman.
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 299 
 
 " Thursday-week, I think, ma'am," replied 
 the rustic : — and had she gone no farther, all 
 might have been extremely well ; but the rus- 
 tic added, — " and then Mr. Mortimer said, 
 he did not think he should be here again till 
 next Saturday." 
 
 Helen heard all this, and felt her head whirl, 
 her eyes swimming, and her tongue clinging to 
 the roof of her mouth. What ! had Mortimer, 
 who dared not venture to take her to this 
 favourite retreat of his former wife, brought 
 the Countess hither, and not one syllable said 
 of the visit, — no, nor even of the existence 
 of the Fishing-House itself. 
 
 " — But," continued the old body, " if you 
 wish, ma'am, to have those curtains which I 
 showed you, put up, instead of the crimson 
 ones, they can be done in three or four 
 days." 
 
 What ! ordering furniture — making arrange- 
 ments — giving directions! — Helen could bear 
 this no longer : the spirit was roused. 
 
 " Pray," said Helen, firing up, her cheeks
 
 300 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 dyed with the hot blood of indignation, — 
 " pray, for whom do you take this lady ?" 
 
 " Mrs. Mortimer — my master's wife," said 
 the simple body, who, although she had par- 
 taken of the roasted sheep, and of the flowing 
 ale, on the festive day, had never — probably 
 from the potency of her imbibitions of the lat- 
 ter article — made herself sufficiently acquaint- 
 ed with the person of the squire's new lady to 
 recognize her on her second appearance, and 
 who, being one of those humble grubs who 
 in the midst of their work have no time left 
 to be vivacious, considered as a matter of 
 course that the lady who came in Mr. Morti- 
 mer's phaeton to Mr. Mortimer's Fishing-House 
 so soon after his return to Sadgrove with his 
 new wife, was that happy individual. 
 
 " How very ridiculous !" said the Countess : 
 — " why, my good woman, this lady is Mrs. 
 Mortimer !" 
 
 " Dear, dear, deary me !" said the poor old 
 body, looking at the Countess with an expres- 
 sion in her countenance indicating a sort of fear 
 that she had made some most serious blunder.
 
 AND MARRIAGES, 301 
 
 " I wonder, as you see us at church," said 
 the Countess, " that you should not have 
 known." 
 
 " — Dear, dear, dear !" said the old woman, 
 " I 'ra sure, ma'am, I beg a thousand pardons ! 
 — I hope, ma'am, you won't be offended with 
 me." 
 
 " Not in the least," said Helen with a toss 
 of her head ; " the mistake seems to me the 
 most natural in the world." 
 
 " There," said the Countess, *' you may go; 
 — we will walk round the terrace." 
 
 The Countess saw that the fire had been 
 kindled, which it would take some time to 
 deaden ; and as she did not wish even so hum- 
 ble a personage as the old body from Willis's 
 farm to be a spectator of the scene she anti- 
 cipated, she despatched her as speedily as 
 possible. 
 
 Helen said nothing, but she felt as if she 
 were dying, — and die she would, she resolved, 
 before one single symptom of what was pass- 
 ino; in her mind should exhibit itself. 
 
 " What a curious contretemps,^' said the
 
 302 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 Countess, — " it always happens so : now, I 
 am sure, Helen dear, it must seem extremely 
 odd to you that Francis and I should have 
 been here together, and that you should not 
 even know of the existence of this beautiful 
 retreat : the truth is, we had a design upon 
 you, and it is my fault that it has failed. We 
 came here to give directions that it should be 
 all put in nice order to surprise you ; and my 
 impression was, that all the arrangements had 
 
 been made, but these stupid people " 
 
 " Countess," said Helen, shaking the tear- 
 drops which, spite of her resolution, stood 
 upon her long black lashes, " I am not pleased 
 with surprises like this. If Francis could not 
 bear to revisit this favourite retreat with me, 
 what circumstances rendered it less irksome 
 to come hither with you ? Of what use was 
 the concealment which kept from my know- 
 ledge the very existence of such a retreat ? The 
 place has no charms for me except those which 
 it derives from Nature, and the fact that it 
 belongs to my husband. I could have felt no 
 difficulty in visiting it ; no painful associations
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 303 
 
 in my mind were connected with it ; and no- 
 thing but common delicacy could have been 
 necessary to have kept me from thinking of it 
 as my own loved place of rest. 
 
 *' Dear Helen," said the Countess, " I am 
 quite aware how easy it is to render by a com- 
 bination of circumstances the simplest and most 
 innocent of our actions suspicious if not odious. 
 It was I, who rallied Francis upon his gloom, 
 and told him how much better it would be if 
 he at once resolved to familiarize himself with 
 the scenes of other days, and visit those favour- 
 ite spots in which he had passed so much of 
 his time : — this was one — he declared the utter 
 impossibility of his ever seeing it again. I 
 persuaded, — entreated him for your sake to 
 come hither, and at last succeeded in prevail- 
 ing upon him to do so. I further gave such 
 directions to the woman here as might as much 
 as possible alter its general appearance from 
 what it formerly was, and hence at his own 
 suggestion the change of furniture and other 
 arrangements : why this poor woman should 
 have mistaken me for you, it is impossible for
 
 304 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 me to surmise, except that she happens to be 
 particularly stupid." 
 
 " I am quite satisfied," said Helen ; " only 
 I do think that if the task of obliterating past 
 recollections were to be assigned to any one, 
 the wife of him who "" 
 
 " — No !" interrupted the Countess, " not in 
 this peculiar case. Mortimer's mind is a very 
 curious one ; I have known it from his youth. 
 To you he feels he cannot speak on this mat- 
 ter: he is even ignorant how far your know- 
 ledge of the circumstances connected with the 
 affair extends. He considers it impracticable — 
 impossible to touch upon the question ; most of 
 all upon its details, all of which must have 
 been involved in your conversation with him if 
 you had visited this place together without 
 some preparation." 
 
 " Could he not have come hither alone.'"' 
 said Helen. 
 
 *' He never would have come hither alone," 
 replied the Countess; " and you are indebted, 
 my dear Helen, to me for the recovery of this 
 lovely bower."
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 305 
 
 " I could have lived without it," said Helen 
 mournfully, — " and better so, than have reco- 
 vered it thus." 
 
 " I have but one condition to make with 
 you," said the Countess, — " that you will not 
 mention one word to Francis of our visit here 
 to-day." 
 
 " Why so .'"' said Helen, — " more disguises, 
 more hypocrisy ! why, Countess, why am I 
 doomed to live a life of dissimulation which 
 I abhor and detest ? " 
 
 " You do not know his temper," said the 
 Countess ; " if he knew that I had anticipated 
 the arrangements we proposed, and frustrated 
 his design, he would be outrageous." 
 
 " Then why, why," said Helen, " did you 
 bring me hither .^ If ray husband, to whom my 
 heart is open as the day, can keep so closely 
 hidden from me^ thoughts and actions having 
 reference to comparatively trifling matters like 
 these, what confidence — what security can I 
 have that I am trusted at all .''" 
 
 " What then," said the Countess, " if every- 
 thing goes on smoothly and the days pass hap-
 
 306 BIRTHS, DEATHS, 
 
 pily, it matters little whether you know all 
 that occupies your husband's mind !" 
 
 " Oh, Countess, Countess ! " said Helen, 
 " if that had been my creed, I never would 
 have become a wife. I am sure," added she, 
 " that in all that has happened about this 
 place, which, beautiful as it is, I now shall 
 hate, you are not to blame ; but I think / 
 should be very much to blame if I permitted 
 this evening to pass over my head without 
 telling Mortimer that I had been here, and 
 all I know upon the subject." 
 
 " Do as you like, my dear Helen," said the 
 Countess: "judge for yourself; I only spoke 
 of expedience, and from a fear of irritating 
 Mortimer." 
 
 " — How can he be irritated," said Helen, 
 " by my coming hither if he were so anxious 
 to prepare the cottage for my reception ? " 
 
 " I repeat, dear Helen," said the Countess, 
 " I have done. I think I might have been 
 indiscreet in anticipating him in the pleasure 
 he proposed to himself in showing you the 
 place; it remains entirely for you to adopt
 
 AND MARRIAGES. 307 
 
 whatever course you think proper ; only acquit 
 nie of any unfair motives. I only say, I have 
 known Mortimer longer than you have, and 
 have hoped since I have been here to restore 
 him to himself and you, from whom he seems 
 to me so much estranged." 
 
 The conversation here subsided into a calm ; 
 but Helen's heart was bursting. The Countess 
 appeared at once to dismiss the whole affair 
 from her mind ; and, after a kind of restless 
 nervous walk, or rather saunter along the ter- 
 race, the ladies remounted the phaeton and 
 returned to the " Hall," not much having been 
 said on the road homeward by either, as to 
 the adventure of the Fishing-House, or indeed 
 anything else. What had been doing at Sad- 
 grove during their absence we shall see here- 
 after. 
 
 END OP THE FIRST VOLUME.
 
 LONDON : 
 PRINTED BV SAMUEL BENTLEV, 
 
 Dorset Street, Fleet Street.
 
 1
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
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 h803 Births, deaths, 
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